Political defections, commonly known in Westminster parlance as ‘Crossing the Floor’, have been a phenomenon in Parliament since at least the 17^th century. This has either happened en masse, as part of major schisms within pre-existing parties (such as the establishment of the Liberal Unionists in the late 19^th century, or the Social Democratic Party in 1981 and The Independent Group/Change UK in 2019), or on an individual level, motivated either by political issues of national significance, or as a result of local contexts. In the History of Parliament’s Oral History archive, multiple former MPs have recounted their decision to ‘cross the floor’ and change party affiliation. These were frequently extremely difficult decisions, often at huge personal cost, in some instances causing the end of long-term friendships or associations. They also frequently reflected major changes in British politics happening well beyond their immediate experiences.

Some MPs took the difficult decision to leave their party because of local issues, typically involving conflicts with their constituency parties. In 1973, Dick Taverne, the moderate Labour MP for Lincoln (1962-74), resigned the whip after his local party deselected him due to his pro-European views, particularly for voting in favour of the UK joining the European Economic Community (EEC).

Taverne would subsequently resign his seat to trigger a by-election, which he won under the ‘Democratic Labour’ label. It was the first time a candidate other than the Conservatives, Labour or the Liberals had won an English by-election in the post-war era. While Taverne’s parliamentary career after Labour was brief (he was defeated at the October 1974 general election by Labour’s Margaret Beckett), it anticipated later political events, most notably the defection of Labour’s ‘Gang of Four’ and the establishment of the Social Democratic Party (SDP) in 1981. Taverne himself would join the SDP, and later stand again for Parliament (in Dulwich, unsuccessfully) in 1983, before becoming a Liberal Democrat peer in 1996. In 1977, Reg Prentice (Newham North-East, formerly East Ham North, 1957-79; Daventry, 1979-87) left the Labour Party due to similar local conflicts, but took the far more controversial decision of defecting directly to the Conservatives. He would later change constituencies and serve as a minister in Margaret Thatcher’s first government. Once again, Prentice’s defection partly showcased the various political divisions emerging within the Labour Party at the end of the 1970s.

Other defections were directly motivated by national political issues. In 1976, Scottish MPs Jim Sillars (South Ayrshire, 1970-79; Glasgow Govan, 1988-92) and John Robertson (Paisley, 1961-79) both resigned from Labour to set-up the ‘Scottish Labour Party’ (SLP). They were motivated by the issue of devolution, and frustration with the failure of the incumbent Labour government to establish a devolved Scottish Assembly with substantial economic powers.

While Sillars never regretted his decision to leave Labour and set up the SLP, he did admit that it was a ‘rush to the head’ and not fully thought through.  

Nevertheless, though the SLP ultimately enjoyed little electoral success, and was dissolved by 1981, Sillars and Robertson’s defections reflected the growing influence of Scottish nationalism in British politics, and anticipated the left-wing, pro-European form it would take in the following decades. In 1988 Sillars was returned to Parliament following a by-election in Glasgow Govan, this time standing as a candidate for the Scottish National Party (SNP), on a platform designed to outflank Labour from the left

Like other defections, Nicholson’s departure from the Conservatives reflected wider developments, but was also of notable personal significance, being the member of a very prominent Conservative family.  

Our interviews with both Sillars and Nicholson emphasise the emotional cost of leaving their parties. Party membership is more than a collection of people with shared political outlook; very deep relationships are made and it can be a key part of a politician’s identity.  For Sillars, leaving the Labour Party was ‘like a Catholic leaving the church […] it’s a tremendous trauma, personal trauma’ and the pressure really affected his health (he developed ulcers), his family and marriage. Nicholson described being ‘extremely angry’ with the Conservatives before she left. In part her defection was her response to feeling ‘bullied’ by the whips and a determination to resist that behaviour. Yet it was a decision she reached ‘very sadly, because I am intrinsically a Conservative.’

One of the most unusual political defections recounted in our project was that of Andrew Hunter. Having sat as the Conservative MP for Basingstoke since 1983, Hunter resigned the party whip in 2002, before joining the Northern Irish Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) in 2004. This was the first time an MP for a mainland British constituency represented a Northern Irish party since T.P. O’Connor, the Irish Nationalist MP for Liverpool Scotland (1885-1929). Hunter’s decision was motivated by conflicts with the Tory leader Iain Duncan Smith, particularly over the party’s controversial links to the right-wing Monday Club (which Hunter supported), disillusionment with the Westminster system, and a desire to pursue a political career in Northern Ireland, owing to his long-standing connections to the DUP and wider unionist community, particularly the Orange Order.  

Unsurprisingly, many of these defections sparked outrage among their former colleagues. Sillars would describe the ‘vicious’ reaction he received, while others would describe being accused of opportunism, cowardice or treason. In some instances, the defectors’ new political allies were not always entirely welcoming either. Interestingly, in many cases these defections were explained as not due to any significant change in the views of the MPs themselves, but out of discontent with their former party’s trajectory. Versions of the phrase ‘I didn’t leave the party, the party left me’ was commonly used by Labour defectors to the SDP in the 1980s, as well as by Emma Nicholson in 1995. Indeed, while some of these defections proved permanent, such as in the case of the SDP or Sillars, others were ultimately temporary. In 2016, Emma Nicholson rejoined the Conservative Party ‘with tremendous pleasure’ (BBC News, 10 September 2016), while more recently, Luciana Berger, who left Labour to form The Independent Group/Change UK in 2019 and later joined the Lib Dems, now sits in the Lords as a Labour peer. Both instances suggest that while defections have often been dramatic and bitterly divisive, reconciliation has also occasionally been possible.

Ultimately, stories from our Oral History Project reveal that political defections are often highly personal decisions and experiences, but can also reflect wider political developments, and even play a role in shaping subsequent events.

A.S. & E.P.

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Further Reading

Andy Beckett, ‘Emma Nicholson: Not her sort of party’, Independent, 31 December 1995.

Tom Chidwick, ‘“Return Taverne”: 50 years on from the Lincoln by-election’, Mile End Institute blog, 1 March 2023

Ivor Crewe and Anthony King, SDP: The Birth, Life and Death of the Social Democratic Party (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995).

Geoff Horn, Crossing the Floor: Reg Prentice and the Crisis of British Social Democracy (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2016).

Ben Jackson, ‘From British Labourism to Scottish Nationalism: Jim Sillars’ Journey’, Scottish Affairs 31:2 (2022), pp.233-239.

Rebecca McKee and Jack Pannell, ‘MPs who change party allegiance’, Institute for Government blog, 12 March 2024.

Emma Peplow and Priscilla Pivatto, The Political Lives of Postwar MPs (London: Bloomsbury, 2020).

Since 2011, the project has interviewed over 250 former members of parliament, creating, in collaboration with the British Library, a unique sound archive of British politics since 1945.

To fill some regional gaps in our collection, the project is specifically looking for volunteer interviewers based in, or able to travel to, either Wales or the North East of England.

Our project could not exist without our fantastic volunteers who, armed with the research we provide, head out to homes and offices of ex-MPs to discuss their childhood memories, inspiration to enter politics, first experiences of Westminster, significant political events and much more.

All volunteers will be provided with expert training in oral history methodology, with our next training session planned for 2-3 June, as well as frequent feedback and advice from the project’s manager, Alfie Steer, and the head of the History of Parliament’s Contemporary History section Dr Emma Peplow. Ideally those who volunteer will undertake at least two interviews a year. Experience in oral history techniques and an interest in modern British politics would be really useful, but are not essential.

Prospective volunteers should get in touch with our project manager, Alfie Steer at asteer@histparl.ac.uk.

A.S.

Since 2012, the History of Parliament has been interviewing former members of the House of Commons in order to capture personal reflections of lives lived in parliament. Including participants from across the three major parties, and ranging in both period of service and length of tenure, findings and insights from this landmark research project have already been showcased in journal articles, a book, and numerous articles for the History of Parliament website. 

Now, for the first time, we have collated clips and excerpts from these interviews into a six-part podcast series. 

Hosted by Dr Emma Peplow, Head of Contemporary British History at the History of Parliament Trust, and Dr Alex Lock, historian and curator at the British Library, this podcast spotlights some of the brilliant interviews within our 200+ strong archive, using never before heard clips and highlighting the unique insights that oral history interviews provides.

These insights cover not only the various milestones of a political career, such as the motivation to get involved in politics, joining a party, finding a seat and encounters with the Whips Office, but also the emotional effect political careers can have on personal lives, as well as the experience of historically underrepresented MPs who have found their way onto the green benches. 

Featuring clips from our interviews with Ann Widdecombe, Michael Heseltine, Chris Smith, Helene Hayman and more, this podcast offers a unique insight into life in Parliament at the end of the twentieth century and beginning of the twenty-first. What drove these individuals to enter political life? How did they secure their seat or win an election? And what impact did this job have on their personal life? Find out in ‘Tales from the Green Benches: An Oral History of Parliament’. 

Listeners can subscribe in advance and listen to a trailer for the series on our webpage here, or search for ‘Tales from the Green Benches’ wherever you get your podcasts. 

Arthur Latham’s journey to parliament was a relatively conventional one for a Labour politician. Growing up in a working-class family, his father a trade unionist, Latham joined the Labour Party after the 1945 election. A councillor in Romford by 21, he rose through the ranks of local politics on Romford and later Havering Council, eventually becoming leader of the Labour Group. While personally uncomfortable with the self-promotion that came with seeking a parliamentary seat, he was selected to fight the safe Tory seat of Woodford in 1959, given the daunting task of challenging Sir Winston Churchill. In his 2014 History of Parliament oral history interview with Andrea Hertz, Latham describes the strange experience of spending a few hours with Churchill and his wife Clementine, at the election count.

While his political beginnings were similar to many Labour politicians in the post-war era, Latham’s later activism reflected the emergence of new radical energies within the party and British politics more widely. Radical movements in 1960s Britain, typified by the student protests of 1968, the campaign against the American war in Vietnam, and new social movements around feminism, black radicalism and gay rights, frequently came into conflict with Harold Wilson’s Labour government. While some activists sympathetic to these energies left the Labour Party in disillusionment, others formed grassroots pressure groups to challenge the Wilson government from within. One of these activist groups, Socialist Charter, was believed to play a direct role in securing Latham’s victory in the 1969 Paddington North by-election, his campaign reportedly bolstered by the ‘help of 200 to 300 activists’ from the group [Kogan & Kogan, 13]. From then on Latham’s career frequently intersected with the fortunes of the party’s so-called ‘hard left’. His entry into parliament was both directly helped by left-wing activists, and formed an early part of a much wider change in the House of Commons’ factional composition.

Latham’s election was part of  an influx of new left-wing Labour MPs, mostly coalescing around the Tribune Group, a faction within the Parliamentary Labour Party founded in the early 1960s by  supporters of left-wing newspaper Tribune,  which had grown significantly towards the end of the 1970s.  Further, this new generation were considered far more willing to rebel, even if it meant defeating the government on the floor of the Commons. A self-described ‘rebel in the House’ and considered by others ‘a thorn in the side’ of the 1974-79 government, Latham became chairman of the Tribune Group in November 1975, then at the height of its rebelliousness [Telegraph, 22 Dec. 2016].

While Latham was prepared to often be a lonely minority on matters of principle, there were some major disagreements between the government and backbench MPs during his time in Parliament. This was revealed through the whipping system, which privileged the top-down leadership of the government, rather than the collective view of the parliamentary party. This was in complete contrast to Latham’s experience of local government decision-making and was illustrated particularly clearly when it came to parliamentary votes on joining the European Common Market. 

Latham’s frustration reflected the growing disconnect between the Labour government and its backbenches, and anticipated the internal divisions that would plague the party into the 1980s. Yet there were still limits to the Tribune Group’s rebelliousness. Latham describes how the group had to strike a ‘delicate balance’ between exerting pressure on the government without bringing it down entirely. At times, this meant that the Tribune Group was mobilised to support the government rather than rebel against it.

The period not only saw conflict between the Labour government and backbench MPs, but also a ‘crisis of legitimacy’ [Randall, 215] between the party’s parliamentary leadership and its grassroots membership. Once again Latham played a part in this internal conflict.

In June 1973, the Campaign for Labour Party Democracy (CLPD) was formed. Made up largely of former Socialist Charter members, the pressure group was launched in reaction to Harold Wilson’s vetoing of radical policies endorsed by party conference. To ensure similar such flagrant rebuffs of conference sovereignty did not happen again, CLPD advocated a series of major reforms to the party’s constitution, ensuring that the party’s parliamentary elites were more accountable to the grassroots membership. This included making it mandatory for incumbent MPs to go through a re-selection process, and widening the franchise for the election of party leader to include ordinary members and trade unionists, as well as MPs. It was Latham who booked the room in the House of Commons where CLPD met for the first time. In this small act he played an early facilitating role in the formation of a campaign that would eventually achieve major changes in Labour’s constitution, decisively altering the relationship between the party’s grassroots membership and its parliamentary elites.

Latham’s career  reflected a wider reconceptualization of what an MP’s role could be. The new generation of left-wing MPs were not only less deferential to the party leadership, but also ascribed greater importance to activism outside parliament. Latham spent little time in the Commons chamber and made few speeches, describing it in the 2014 interview as ‘not a good investment of time’. Instead, he was ‘extremely busy’ outside, both with constituency work and in supporting extra-parliamentary movements. A lifelong peace activist, Latham was a member of the British Campaign for Peace in Vietnam, the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament and the Movement for Colonial Freedom. In 1977 Latham was elected Executive Chair of the Greater London Labour Party. While ostensibly an administrative position, his election again reflected a wider shift to the left in London politics, which culminated in Ken Livingstone’s radical administration on the Greater London Council (GLC) from 1981 to 1986. Latham returned to local government himself in 1986 and became leader of Havering Council in 1990. He would eventually briefly resign from the Labour Party in response to the Iraq War, once again reflecting a common experience of left-wing disillusionment within the party, and a period of dramatic decline in the party’s membership.

Arthur Latham’s career was therefore frequently a bellwether for the progress of Labour’s ‘hard left’ from the 1960s onwards. His parliamentary career intersected the left’s rise in influence and his later trajectory frequently emulated the experience of other left-wing activists across the country. Studying the political activism of Arthur Latham provides not only an enlightening insight into the experience of a committed left-wing politician, but also reveals the contours of much wider political changes in Britain in the second half of the Twentieth Century.

A.S.

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Further reading
David Kogan and Maurice Kogan, The Battle for the Labour Party second edition (London: Bloomsbury, 2018).

Ken Livingstone, If Voting Changed Anything, They’d Abolish It (London: Collins, 1987).

Hugh Pemberton and Mark Wickham-Jones, ‘Labour’s Lost Grassroots: The Rise and Fall of Party Membership’, British Politics 8:2 (2013), pp.181-206.

Nick Randall, ‘Dissent in the Parliamentary Labour Party, 1945-2015’ in Emannuel Avril and Yann Béliard (eds.), Labour United and Divided from the 1830s to the Present (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2018), pp.193-220.

John E. Schwarz, ‘Attempting to Assert the Commons’ Power: Labour Members in the House of Commons, 1974-1979’, Comparative Politics 14:1 (1981), pp.17-29.

Rhiannon Vickers, ‘Harold Wilson, the British Labour Party, and the War in Vietnam’, Journal of Cold War Studies 10:2 (2008), pp.41-70.

With access to the British Library sound archive still unavailable, a full catalogue of our oral history project and details with how to access interviews is available on our website. 

Find more blogs from our oral history project here.

Alfie Steer is a historian of modern and contemporary Britain, currently studying for a DPhil at the University of Oxford. His research focuses on the history of the Labour Left from the end of the miners strike to Jeremy Corbyn’s election as Labour leader in 2015. His most recent article was published in Contemporary British History, and has written book reviews for Twentieth Century British History and the English Historical Review. Outside of academia he has written for popular publications such as Tribune.

Alongside the organisers, a distinguished panel of historians and political scientists, Professors Sarah Childs, (University of Edinburgh), Helen McCarthy (University of Cambridge), and Rainbow Murray (Queen Mary University of London) gathered at Portcullis House to reflect on the changes in the lives of women parliamentarians entering parliament in or just before 1997. Drawing on a range of interviews from the History of Parliament’s Oral History Project, the panel questioned whether the increase in women MPs has altered the culture and working practices of parliament. They also reflected on whether the presence of more women at Westminster has made a difference to how women talk about their lives as parliamentarians.

Dr Grace Heaton looks back on the event and what the new cohort of female MPs might be able to take from their predecessors…

In 2018, the Women and Equalities Committee described parliament as ‘a manly place’. In the 100 years since the first woman, Nancy Astor, took her seat in parliament in 1919, women have never been equally represented.

In the 1979 General Election, in which Margaret Thatcher became Britain’s first female Prime Minister, only 3 per cent of all MPs were women. Prophesising the impact more women MPs would have on parliament, in 1987 Labour MP Clare Short argued in her Briefing for MPs that: ‘Increasing women’s representation in parliament is essential if we are to build a House of Commons which more truly represents the whole population. As more women come into the Commons, the culture will change, the agenda of politics will broaden, and the institution itself will be transformed’. That same year, 41 women were elected to parliament and Diane Abbott became the first Black woman to serve as an MP.

During the 1990s, the Labour Party sought to increase the number of female MPs via the controversial practice of All Women Shortlists for candidates chosen to fight the 1997 General Election. Despite a legal challenge temporarily halting the measure (during which two Labour activists accused their party of sexual discrimination), the increase in women candidates combined with a Labour landslide led to a breakthrough. 120 women MPs (18 per cent of all MPs) were elected in 1997 and began to seriously challenge Westminster’s culture. This number has slowly increased in recent years to 22 per cent in the 2010 General Election, and 34 per cent in 2019. In the 2024 General Election a record-breaking number of female MPs were elected, now sitting at just over 40 percent.

As the History of Parliament Trust’s rich Oral History Project demonstrates, experiences of parliamentary life varied hugely. Yet, when discussing their lives, interviewees touched on remarkably similar themes: of what drew them into politics and how they practically entered politics; how they felt about the Chamber and how they experienced the social life and culture of parliament; and how they combined politics with their lives outside parliament. Led by these testimonies, the panel’s discussion was split into three sections: Becoming an MP; Experiences of Parliament; and Balancing Politics and Family Life.

Becoming an MP:

One of the benefits of the life-story approach used by volunteers working with the History of Parliament Trust is that rich insights are gained into the family backgrounds and political heritages of MPs. These formative years often shaped their decisions to enter politics in later life. As Helen McCarthy noted, family members (and often specific relatives) inspired, taught, and encouraged political engagement.

Ann Cryer, a Labour MP for Keighley 1997-2010, for example, recalled her grandmother’s involvement in the women’s suffrage movement; Baroness Angie Bray, a Conservative MP for Acton and Ealing 2010-2015, reflected on being taught how to debate by her father; and Susan Elan Jones, a Labour MP for Clwyd South recalled taking part in her uncle’s election campaign for the Conway constituency in 1979:

From here, the panel reflected on the controversial practice of All Women Shortlists. As you heard above, All Women Shortlists galvanised contradictory responses.

Susan Elan Jones explained that:

‘Until the time of the All Women Shortlists in Wales, Wales had only ever had four female MPs. It was pathetic. […] It took the women-only shortlists to shake things up a bit in Wales’.

In contrast, Ann Taylor, a Labour MP between 1974-79 and 1987-2005, was less convinced by the impact of All Women Shortlists and others like Sylvia Heal, Labour 1990-92; 1997-2010, changed their opinion on All Women Shortlists over time.

Listening to these testimonies, Sarah Childs encouraged a reframing of the way that All Women Shortlists are conceptualised. She noted that whether you like All Women Shortlists or not is irrelevant, the worldwide evidence suggests that quotas systems provide an effective method for increasing female representation and participation in public life.

Experiences of Parliament:

While a striking level of continuity can be deciphered in the importance of familial networks galvanising political interest, experiences of parliament (and particularly the Chamber) varied significantly.

Jackie Ballard, Liberal Democrat MP 1997-2001, highlighted the sexist comments women MPs endured during her time in parliament; other members, like Baroness Angie Bray and Susan Elan Jones did not mention instances of overt misogyny, but rather focused on the gravity and experience of speaking in the Chamber:

Commenting on these clips, McCarthy drew attention to the emotions which underscored these testimonies. Noting that Jackie Ballard’s use of words like ‘loath’ and ‘detest’, and her visceral ‘ugh’ at the end of the clip, provide immersive insights into the experience of being an MP and how difficult it can be. Drawing on her own research, Rainbow Murray made a fascinating comparison to the spatial dynamics of the French parliament. Murray noted that the physical space of the French parliament was overtly unwelcoming to women – reminding the audience that for a long time the only artwork representing women were the erotic images which adorned the walls of the parliamentary bars.

Family and Political Life:

During the final segment, the panel considered the interactions between political and family life. Alongside balancing the demands of a constituency with commitments in Westminster, many female parliamentarians also had to navigate being the primary care giver in their families.

Olga Maitland, Conservative 1992-1997, recalled campaigning for the 1983 election and balancing her familial duties; Sylvia Heal acknowledged the sense of guilt that was also very prominent among female parliamentarians; Ann Taylor, Labour 1974-83; 1987-2005, was adamant that parliament should be a place where women, from whatever familial situation, can easily work:

Reflecting on these testimonies, Rainbow Murray highlighted three coping mechanisms women frequently adopt whilst trying to navigate parliamentary and home life: 1. You don’t get pregnant. 2. You wait until your children have grown to stand as a parliamentary candidate. 3. You delegate childcare – often to other women e.g. your own mother. Murray therefore urged that to address gender inequality in parliament, it is vital to address gender inequality in the home.

As the dust settles on a new parliament, with a record-breaking number of female Members, questions posed by Sarah Childs during the ‘A Manly Place?’ event provide us with much food for thought: Are MPs making a difference? Is the institution changing or are MPs changing? Do we want to change the institution based on what MPs want? When change does happen, which changes stick? And has parliament, in the aftermath of the referendum on Brexit and the pandemic, experienced a ‘remasculinisation’?

After a stimulating discussion, the event closed with the words of Jackie Ballard:

‘Less than a thousand woman have been Members of Parliament. It is an incredibly privileged thing to have done, isn’t it? As a woman, you’ve made, you know, some impact and some mark, and you hope that over generations people are not still sitting here saying how few mothers have been Members of Parliament or something because it’s more commonplace.[…] Being a woman who comes to prominence is important, and I wasn’t a woman from a privileged background, I wasn’t a woman who had a nanny, or a husband even. So, I think it’s important’.

G.H.

Further Reading

Karen Celis and Sarah Childs, Feminist Democratic Representation (Oxford, 2020).

Helen McCarthy, Double Lives: A History of Working Motherhood (London, 2020).

Rainbow Murray, ‘Linear Trajectories or Vicious Circles? The Causes and Consquences of Gendered Career Paths in the National Assembly’, Modern and Contemporary France, 18:4 (2010), pp. 445-459.

Emma Peplow and Priscila Privatto, The Political Lives of Postwar MPs: An Oral History of Parliament (London, 2020), Chapter 8.

Today most of the UK’s election candidates will be racing around their constituencies trying to make sure their supporters go to vote. But this is just the start of a very long day which will only end with a returning officer’s declaration in the early hours of the morning. This crucial moment for any MP is often discussed in great detail in our oral history interviews: the moment when, one way or another, their lives changed completely.

Most candidates told us they had a good feel for how the wind was blowing on their patch long before polling day. Conservative David Sumberg explained how in 1997 he had already given up any hope of winning and moved all his belongings out of his constituency house the day before polling! For others, the day might be spent as the figurehead whilst supporters knocked on doors. Labour’s Phyllis Starkey spent election day in 1997 driving around Milton Keynes on the back of a lorry with D:Ream’s Things will only get better played on a loop in a loudspeaker. She was joined at times by party dignitaries: ‘which really scared people rigid when they suddenly heard John Prescott’s voice coming out the loudspeaker.’

Most candidates only arrived at the count when their agent – the person with the legal responsibility for the election campaign – told them to do so. This is often another stage-managed affair, a chance to come in to cheering supporters if all looks promising, or to rally worried troops if not. Labour’s Gordon Banks had played the role of agent too many times to be told what to do himself, however:

Despite the crucial moment coming at the end of the night, campaigns and candidates can often get a really good idea how things have gone as the counting is taking place. Observers for each candidate are allowed to oversee the process and make sure everything is fair – but they are also making swift early judgements about their chances, as Phyllis Starkey explained:

After officials check that the number of votes tally with the numbers of ballot papers issued, all the votes from around the constituency are mixed together before being counted. The next time parties are able to get an indication of how they are doing is by looking at the piles of bundles, of 25 or 50 votes for each candidate, and how each side lines up. When it is going well, as it was for Starkey in 1997, you can ‘actually see how far ahead you are, and you can see that lead growing or shrinking as different boxes come in.’

With this feel for how things are going, candidates and agents are able to give clues to their supporters on their performance. As the former Chair of the Conservative 1922 Committee, Sir Edward du Cann, told us, when he was first elected his agent promised to give him an idea of his progress by either saying ‘I hope you’ve had a cup of tea’ or instead offering to make him one. However, when he called and completely forgot to mention tea at all du Cann was left ‘assuming it was a disaster’! Similarly, Conservative Robert Hayward was able to wink at his supporters to let them know things were going well in 1983, and Gordon Banks described scratching either his left or right ears to pass on news to his activists.

As the night goes on a close race will lead to a very tense atmosphere. At Gordon Banks’ 2005 count he kept a close eye on his rivals in the SNP, with his spirits buoyed as theirs started to lower. David Sumberg watched the national picture in 1992 to see if he would hold on in his seat:

Matthew Morris, now Lord Naseby’s, first elections in 1974 were extremely close and both went to tense recounts. He remembers being told in the February election by a town clerk to make sure his observers insisted bundles of votes were opened during the process. After the first recount he was ahead by just four votes, before the final tally gave him a majority of 179. At times national parties might add to the tension, as Liberal Democrat Jackie Ballard told us when she lost her seat in 2001:

Ballard’s quotation gets to the heart of perhaps the biggest factor for all the candidates – sheer exhaustion! Former Conservative/Lib Dem MP Emma Nicholson described her team all ‘stumbling around like zombies’ and she could ‘barely keep [her] eyes open’ as the count went on.

The emotions intensify as the crucial moment draws nearer. Conservative John Sykes, who expected to lose in 1997, remembered trying extremely hard to keep a brave face:

So there followed four hours of trying to smile through it, trying to make sure there were no bad photographs and trying to make sure that you bore it with grace, bore it as best you could for the sake of your own self-respect and so on.

We do have stories, sadly, of times when not all candidates manage that. For the winners, the overwhelming emotion was joy. Banks told us in 2005 after his acceptance speech his campaign ‘went and partied, quite frankly. Because you’re on an emotional high of – it’s an immense emotional high.’ Winning against the odds in 1992 gave Conservative David Sumberg a real sense of confidence returning to parliament. He even formed a dining club with other Conservatives who held on unexpectedly, complete with a tie. Few extracts from our archive however match this sense of elation from Labour’s Eileen Gordon in 1997:

More memories are sure to be made tonight.

EP

When the HIV/AIDs epidemic arrived in the UK in the early 1980s it was a frightening, confusing time. Little was known about this new disease, other than it appeared to be deadly to all who caught it. As in other countries it spread quickly in certain communities in the UK: haemophiliacs, who relied on blood products, drug users and gay men. The last two groups were already marginalised. As recounted heartbreakingly in the BBC/British Library documentary series based on oral history testimony, Aids: The Unheard Tapes, those living with the disease, and those who loved them, faced discrimination and fear from wider society.

The lack of knowledge about how AIDs spread and how to treat the disease, alongside this marginalisation, made tackling the subject politically a difficult issue. Although homosexuality had been decriminalised in the UK in the 1960s, discrimination against the gay community was widespread and, at times, political debate was homophobic. The MPs we have spoken to as part of our Oral History Project who spoke out about AIDs in Parliament believed other MPs would stay quiet because they could find the whole debate ‘distasteful’, in the words of Labour’s Gavin Strang. This of course made introducing legislation to record and prevent the spread of HIV, as well as support those living with the disease, all the harder.

Some MPs though were determined to address this crucial public health issue. Chris Butler, for example, remembers speaking about HIV in Parliament at a time when its spread felt ‘unstoppable’. Edwina Currie became junior health minister in 1986, partly, in her words, to help front then Health Secretary Norman Fowler’s public campaign on HIV.

The ‘Don’t Die of Ignorance’ government campaign, and Currie’s inappropriate public comments about AIDS, have been criticised then and after as only encouraging the stigma of those suffering with the disease. The image of a tombstone and the apocalyptic tone of the TV advert in particular were seen by many as ‘demonising’ them as the victims of the disease. However, the campaign has also been lauded for sharing better information, its frank language, and in particular for the attempt to reach the entire country. Fowler remembered in a Guardian interview that Margaret Thatcher had wanted a campaign more targeted to specific communities, and with less direct language. This battle, as shown from the archives, was won by Fowler and the Health Department. The advert and information leaflet reached most of the country, made it clear that anyone could catch HIV, and promoted safe sex. Fowler later remembered that one of his main motivations was to prevent attacks on the gay community, arguing that better information about HIV would help undermine discrimination. He has since continued to be involved in campaigning for both the LGBTQ+ community and for those suffering with HIV.

Others out of government also worked hard within parliament to do what they could to stem the epidemic. For example, Gavin Strang introduced a Private Members’ Bill in 1987, the AIDS (Control) Act, which required reporting on numbers of cases across the country. Neil Gerrard joined, and later chaired, the All Party Parliamentary Group on HIV/AIDs because he had friends diagnosed with the disease and others who worked with AIDs patients. He later sat on an Inter-Parliamentary Union working group advising parliaments across the world on HIV policy.

Of course there were others in Parliament deeply affected by the illness. Robert, now Lord, Hayward, was not publicly out at the time but remembered how ‘frightening’ it felt on the gay scene, how ‘awful’ it was to lose good friends to this disease. Chris, now Lord, Smith – the first MP to choose to come out – was diagnosed with HIV in 1988. He chose to keep this information secret at the time. Smith was at first treated with the more experimental AZT, which he believes may have given him enough ‘breathing space’ to be able to receive better therapy later on.

Here he describes how he reacted to his diagnosis:

Lord Smith describes his ‘determination to fit everything in come what may’ kept up his motivation to continue sitting on Labour’s front bench: ‘If I’m not here in 5 years’ time I want to make the most of what I’ve got.’ Even for a MP though, the discrimination around HIV remained. Lord Smith decided much later to make his diagnosis public and to talk about his experiences. He has since featured in campaigns demonstrating that a HIV diagnosis no longer means a death sentence.

EP

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Emma Nicholson’s childhood was defined by growing up in a political family. Her father was Sir Godfrey Nicholson, Conservative MP for Morpeth (1931‒1935) and Farnham (1939‒1966) and her mother’s family were also politicians: “rafts of politicians going back a very large number of generations indeed. […] a large number of politicians rolled in and out of the house from time to time […] it was a small house and we just ran in and out and listened.” [Track 1, 00:10:32‒00:11:27]

That last sentence is misleading, for Nicholson’s childhood was also defined by both visual and hearing impairment. “My life went into a black hole when I was 11 or 10 when my eyes went wrong, but in that sense I was rescued by music because that was the only thing I could do that wasn’t reading … it’s just peculiar because it was also something that was also difficult because of my ears. [Track 2, 00:00:00‒ 00:00:17]

She goes on to explain that as a teenager she was diagnosed as having 90 per cent hearing loss.

For those people listening to the recording, and indeed as the person who conducted the interview, it is difficult to understand the nature of Nicholson’s hearing loss and how her sensory perceptions operate. Nicholson refers to this as being a common reaction from those she meets, giving as an example an account of a visit to the Mary Hare School, the largest school for deaf children in the UK, of which she is a Vice President. “Some of the parents complained to the head teacher that I obviously wasn’t deaf, that I was just a politician using it to get publicity, that I couldn’t be deaf because I behaved so normally. [….] I’m neither fish, fowl nor good red herring in a curious sort of way.” [Track 1, 00:28:17‒00:29:04]

The following exchange during the interview about Nicholson’s musical abilities (she studied at the Royal Academy of Music) reminds us of descriptions given by percussionist Evelyn Glennie about the physical sensations she experiences while performing.

Both accounts refer to dimensions of sensory perception that are beyond the grasp of people with unaffected hearing capacity.

On leaving the Royal Academy Nicholson was taken on by International Computers Ltd (ICL) to train as a computer programmer, where she applied her musical aptitude to the tasks they were given: “After about two weeks I suddenly realised that what they were trying to do was to write a fugue and they didn’t know how to write a fugue so I turned their language into my language and addressed it differently … I just turned it into music.” [Track 1, 00:43:20‒ 00:43:56]. Following ICL, Nicholson joined the Save the Children Fund, and it was during her time there that she embarked on the lengthy process of running for Parliament. Her first election campaign was in 1979 as the Conservative candidate in the safe Labour seat of Blyth, and this anecdote about speaking at a public meeting illustrates the difficulties encountered by disabled politicians in the political arena:

Academic studies show that disabled people seeking office are often hesitant to disclose their disabilities, corroborated by Nicholson’s comment that “it’s very difficult for many people […] but because disability is then used against you politically, people don’t want to admit. Why should they? It’s been very difficult admitting to being deaf.” [Track 2, 00:27:05‒00:27:23] However she goes on to say that after she was elected as an MP, “I made it plain immediately on about the first BBC programme that I could so people would be aware that I wasn’t hiding anything, the constituents particularly, I didn’t want to hide anything.” [Track 1, 00:26:30‒00:26:42].

She describes working in the Commons as “impossible, really, really, really difficult.” [Track 2, 00:25:22]. Similarly Jack Ashley (MP for Stoke-on-Trent South, 1966‒1992), wrote about the difficulty of adjusting to parliamentary life after suffering total hearing loss within two years of being elected: “[The Chamber] was transformed into a mysterious, menacing arena where I could be trapped into misunderstanding the arguments and passions which swiftly ebbed and flowed. […] Understanding debates was important, but other occasions, previously taken for granted, would now present major problems. To check a point made in debates I could always read Hansard, but there is no report of those informal discussions in corridors and tea-rooms which are as important to political understanding as formal debates.”

Just as Ashley’s deafness had a huge impact on his ability to navigate certain political spaces, so too did Nicholson’s hearing loss dictate how she operated politically.

After leaving the Commons, Nicholson became a Member of the European Parliament, describing why she was able to work much more effectively in Brussels than in the Westminster. “First of all because of the way the room is presented is different, you’re in a semi-circle so you can see people’s faces much more, not everyone but you can see an awful lot, and secondly because they made me vice-chair of the biggest committee [Foreign Affairs] so I could see people’s faces from the front up on the platform, and thirdly because there is simultaneous translation and so the head of the translation unit came to see me, I asked for him … so he then took the English section very seriously and trained them to fit me, it was hugely helpful, so I had a really good ten years there.” [Track 2, 00:25:52‒00:26:40].

In the interview Nicholson remembers the difficulties she encountered due to her deafness during internal party discussions about forming a coalition government following the May 2010 general election.

She goes on to reflect on her track record as an MP: “Undoubtedly I could have done better but that was almost 100 per cent dependent upon my hearing. I could have done much better had I been able to hear, but had I been able to hear I would have been a different person anyway and I’m not able to hear so within that I did loads.” [Track 5, 00:47:18‒00:47:41]

The History of Parliament’s oral history collection is enriched by Nicholson’s accounts of her disability and its impact on her capacity to operate in different political environments, yet as a deaf person Nicholson is limited in how she can access recordings such as these. This highlights one of the challenges for us as oral historians, making our collections as accessible as possible to users and researchers with hearing loss and other disabilities.

EL

Download ALT text for all audio here.

Find more voices of our archive on the British Library.

Find more blogs from our oral history project here.

Further reading:

Jack Ashley, Journey into Silence (The Bodley Head: 1973).

Elizabeth Evans & Stefanie Reher, ‘Disability and political representation: Analysing the obstacles to elected office in the UK’, International Political Science Review, 43 (5), (2022), pp. 697‒712. https://doi.org/10.1177/0192512120947458

Emma Nicholson, Secret Society: Inside – and Outside – the Conservative Party (Indigo: 1996).

Brad Rakerd, ‘On Making Oral Histories More Accessible to Persons with Hearing Loss’, The Oral History Review, 40 (1), (2013) pp. 67‒74. https://doi.org/10.1093/ohr/oht022

Over the past few years I’ve worked as a researcher on the BBC Radio 4 series Prime Ministers’ Props, presented by Sir David Cannadine and produced by Melissa Fitzgerald. By the end of the third series we’ll have discussed how fifteen different prime ministers, for various reasons, became associated with a prop (usually a physical object, hobby or nickname) in the public conscience.

The show has tried to provide listeners with an accessible and engaging introduction to many of the UK’s nineteenth- and twentieth-century prime ministers. We’ve covered the obvious stories of Thatcher’s handbag, Wellington’s boot and Churchill’s cigar, as well as lesser known premiers (and their props) such as Anthony Eden and his Homburg hat and Lord Rosebery and his racehorses.

One of our favourite episodes this series is about the cars used by Clement Attlee, Labour prime minister between 1945 and 1951, and his wife, Violet Attlee, to tour the country during the 1945, 1950, 1951 and 1955 elections. During each campaign Violet drove Clement (I’ll refer to both by their first names in this blog) throughout England and Scotland in their family car.

Touring in the family car, with Violet at the wheel, was an active electioneering strategy. The Attlees hoped to present themselves to the public as an ‘unostentatious’ middle-class family, in contrast to the chauffeur-driven Winston Churchill, who until 1955 was leader of the Conservative party.

The episode has also been one of the most interesting to research, as identifying the cars driven by the Attlees at each election has proved surprisingly complex. Frustratingly as far as the 1945 election is concerned, the matter remains unresolved. It has also been a heartening experience, as it has put us in touch with politicians, historians, curators, archivists and car experts, all of whom have generously offered their expertise and displayed a common enthusiasm for solving an unexpected historical mystery.

Confirming the cars used by the Attlees at the 1950, 1951 and 1955 elections was relatively straightforward, thanks to press, photo and video archive of the elections. In February 1950 Clement and Violet were pictured leaving Downing Street for that month’s election tour in a 1937/8 Hillman 14. The Coventry Evening Telegraph reported that the Attlees arrived at a rally at Coventry Central Hall ‘driving their Hillman 14’. And a British Pathé newsreel captured Violet driving a Hillman 14 on a last-minute visit to their Walthamstow constituency on election day.

During the October 1951 general election the Attlees toured the country in a new, slightly smaller, ‘beige’ Humber Hawk, probably that year’s MKIV model. Press reports and photographs confirmed this, as well the registration of the car: KYX 690. As a sign of how central the Attlee family car was to their campaign, in one picture, Clement can be seen speaking to his Walthamstow constituents from in front of the car, with Violet knitting at the wheel.

The Humber Hawk was used again at the 1955 election, when Violet drove Clement throughout their nine-day election tour at characteristic speed. The Huddersfield Daily Examiner reported that ‘KYX 690’ was driven by Violet ‘with considerable dash’ and that ‘police escorts sometimes had difficulty keeping up with her’.

This was the last election that Clement fought prior to his elevation to the peerage as Earl Attlee in December 1955. Earlier that month he had retired as leader of the Labour party, when newsreel footage captured him departing the Palace of Westminster in a new family car – a Hillman Minx (probably a MKVII model).

Over the following four years Violet, or Lady Attlee as she was now formally known, was involved in multiple crashes in the Minx, including a fatal accident in September 1959, when a passenger in another car died. Violet was cleared of any responsibility in a widely reported court case, after which she continued to drive Clement in their new Fiat 600, and then an Austin Cambridge until her death in 1964.

Identifying the car used by the Attlees during the 1945 election has been a more frustrating story. This was particularly because we wanted to include precise details of the ‘small car’, or ‘smart little car’, that Violet is reported to have driven into Buckingham Palace on 26 July 1945, when Clement accepted an invitation from George VI to form the post-war Labour government.

As well as a paucity of visual or written contemporary sources revealing details of the Attlee family car in 1945, the task has been compounded by an array of conflicting historical or contemporary accounts. There are plenty of pictures of Churchill in his custom Humber limousine during the 1945 election, but none that we have so far discovered of the Attlees in their car.

The only car that the Attlees are pictured next to during the election is a two-door Morris 8 series 1. This picture was taken on 26 July 1945 before Violet drove Clement to Buckingham Palace to ‘kiss hands’ with the King. The picture is hardly conclusive though, as their actual car might have been parked on the opposite side of the street. We know that Clement’s brother owned a Morris 8, and that the Attlees’ first family car in the 1920s was a ‘bullnose’ Morris Oxford. But the association of Sir William Morris with Oswald Mosley and British Fascism during the early 1930s, and Morris’s fiercely anti-union business practices, makes a Morris an unlikely car brand for the leader of the Labour party.

Some writers have used images of Attlee in official government-allocated cars before and after the 1945 election to suggest that the family car in 1945 was a Humber Pullman or an Austin Six. One account suggests the Attlees owned an Austin Seven, which may have been based on a 2015 BBC recreation of the election. Anthony Eden recalled ten years after the 1945 election that the Attlees had driven a Standard Eight. And another account suggests the Attlees drove a ‘Hillman Standard Eight’, a car that never existed.

In his interviews with Violet and Clement’s second daughter, Felicity Attlee, the author and historian Francis Beckett was told that the family car around that time was a Hillman Minx. However, a lack of any other evidence to confirm this and factoring in the potential that Felicity was blurring her memories with the family’s later Hillman Minx, raises doubt as to whether this was the case.

Amidst all of this contradictory information, the closest we’ve got to confirming the 1945 car was Violet’s own recollection in an interview for Time in 1950, which suggested that she drove the same ‘vintage Hillman’ during the 1945 election as she did in 1950. This would indicate that the 1945 Attlee family car was a Hillman 14. However the interview also suggests the car used by the Attlees ‘back in the 1930s’ was ‘a trim 1936 Hillman sedan’, and the Hillman 14 was not manufactured until September 1937. Maybe the Time journalist misreported the year of manufacture, or Violet mis-remembered it. Either way the smoking gun (or car) remains elusive.

Ultimately, when scripting the show we had to settle for saying that Violet drove Clement to Buckingham Palace on 26 July 1945 in their ‘family car’. If you have any information to confirm otherwise, please get in touch.

Dr Martin Spychal

‘Clement Attlee’s Family Car’ will be broadcast on BBC Radio 4 on 8 November 2023 at 09:45. It is also available to stream on iPlayer

We’d like to thank the following for their help identifying the Attlee family cars (in alphabetical order): 3^rd Earl Attlee; Francis Beckett; Andy Bye (Rootes Archive Centre Trust); Thomas Chidwick (Queen Mary University London); Florence Dall (Queen Mary Archives and Special Collections); Prof. Peter Hennessy (QMUL); Dr Luca Hoare (Haynes Motor Museum); Dr Lyndsey Jenkins (QMUL); Nick Kinnie (Haynes Motor Museum); Steve Lewis (Post Vintage Humber Car Club); Steve Mytton (Haynes Motor Museum); Dr Philip Salmon (History of Parliament); Nick Thornhill; Debbie Smith and all the staff at Tower Hamlets Local History Library and Archives.

Further reading:

J. Bew, Citizen Clem: A Biography of Attlee (2017)

F. Beckett, Clem Attlee (2000)

T. D. Burridge, Clement Attlee, a political biography (1985)

J. Hannam, ‘Attlee [née Millar], Violet Helen, Countess Attlee (1895–1965)’, DNB (2018)

K. Harris, Attlee (1982)

N.T. Symonds, Attlee: A Life in Politics (2010)

R. Whiting, ‘Attlee, Clement Richard, first Earl Attlee (1883–1967)’, DNB (2004)

Recent interviews I have conducted for the History of Parliament Trust Oral History Project remind us that UK parties are ‘broad churches’ encompassing a range of views. Commentators have regularly referred to the ‘wings’ or ‘factions’ within the Labour and Conservative parties centred on an individual (Corbynites), ideological disposition (One Nation), membership of an interest group (Manifesto or Bow) or stance on an issue (the European Research Group). However, if one digs a little deeper one can see that all the principal British political parties are the product of mergers that have happened at one point or another. This is a consequence of the UK’s first past the post system which militates against a proliferation of mid-sized parties, unlike continental Europe where government is more usually exercised through coalitions of independent parties giving them an incentive to continue as separate entities.

The LibDems are the most obvious product of a merger. The Social Democratic Party founded in 1981, largely as a break-away from the Labour Party, formally joined with the Liberals in 1988 having previously been in an electoral alliance. The distinct origins and traditions of the two parts of the party were evident to David Howarth (LibDem MP for Cambridge, 2005- 2010) at the time of the LibDem merger, but over time have blurred. The personalities of key actors (such as David Owen and David Steel) were as important as ideology in shaping the party’s political direction at its foundation and have continued to do so.

The Conservative Party is still officially the ‘Conservative and Unionist Party.’ The ‘unionist’ part of the title is less used these days, but reflects the fact that the Conservative party took on its modern form following a merger: in 1912 the Liberal Unionist Party (itself a splinter group from the Liberal Party breaking away over Irish home rule) joined with the Conservative Party.

Then there is the Labour Party which absorbed the Independent Labour Party in 1975 having been in various arrangements with ILP from its inception. Similarly, Labour has been in an electoral alliance with the Co-operative Party, the political wing of the cooperative movement, from 1927. Founded in 1917, the Co-operative Party decided to join forces with Labour because its political aims were so similar. The Co-operative Party states that it is ‘committed to building a society in where power and wealth are shared.’ Although the Labour and Co-operative parties are autonomous institutions, the joint designation is registered with the Electoral Commission. There are currently 26 MPs with this affiliation, down from a high point of 38 in 2017. For the Oral History Project, I interviewed one of these ‘Labour Coop’ MPs, David Lepper, who represented Brighton Pavilion from 1997 to 2010.

David Lepper’s connection with the cooperative concept started with his parents shopping at the London Co-op stores, from where I remember getting those blue dividend saver stamps as a child. Later he began to understand that there was a political component to the movement applicable to the workplace, schools and education: ‘a national Cooperative movement that meant more than simply buying something in the Co-op shop.’ (Lepper 3 20:10) He had a growing interest in popular participation in local decision making ‘about the things that influenced their lives’ (Lepper 3 22:45). He saw how housing could be improved and business enterprise stimulated through the application of cooperative principles. He was able to pursue these aims as a councillor in Brighton. Cooperative ideals flourished in the city where the cooperative movement began in ‘West Street in 1820’ and with the setting up of a Benevolent Fund and Trading Association in 1827.

At a practical level, being nominated by the Co-operative Party meant getting extra money for political campaigning, including the sponsorship of events, and obtaining the support of Coop MPs in making constituency visits. It also offered a chance to influence local political challenges through selection as a Co-operative Party delegate to the Brighton party committee. One such challenge occurred in the late 1970s and early 1980s when the Co-operative Party delegates proved to be important in delivering a counterweight to the growing influence of the Militant Tendency in the Labour Party.

Although he had long been a party member, Lepper had to go through a selection process to be placed on the Co-operative Party parliamentary candidates’ national panel.

When Lepper was elected in the Labour landslide of 1997 he was arriving at a time of high hopes among Co-operative Party MPs who thought that through Labour’s success they could further their social and economic causes. These were detailed in a wish list given to the incoming Labour government, presented as an adjunct to its own plans. Lepper believes much was achieved through small amendments to other bills passing through the House of Commons or through private members’ bills, rather than through major pieces of legislation. He believes more progress was made on furthering cooperative business initiatives (for example establishing Community Interest Companies or credit unions) than on other causes such as cooperative housing or education.

Much of what the Co-operative Party was seeking was politically uncontentious. Indeed, many of its ambitions were shared by other parties. David Howarth, another of my interviewees, is a case in point. Both he and Lepper started their political careers in local government seeking improvements in housing, transport and the environment. Both were disposed to work on a cross-party basis. Lepper, for example, valued the All Party Parliamentary Groups which made cross party work on specific issues or policies easier. He describes how he was happy to join forces with opponents on leaseholder reform, urban business development and environmental issues, such as wildlife or countryside protection. Howarth gives depoliticising crime and limiting exemptions to Freedom of Information requests as topics where he had worked on a bipartisan basis. They, however, differed on some fundamentals of political ideology. Howarth explained how as a teenager he started objecting to the ‘authoritarianism’ of state socialism and the conflictual role trade unions played in society, favouring a programme of ‘industrial democracy.’

Lepper, for his part, saw the Labour Party as the only plausible, national vehicle for achieving social change of the sort he was seeking. With the electoral system limiting the number of viable political parties, he did not have much choice in deciding how to express his views in partisan terms. Yet Lepper was lucky in being able to combine the complimentary but different traditions of the Labour and Co-operative parties.

PR

Find more voices of our archive on the British Library.

Find more blogs from our oral history project here.

Download ALT text for all audio here.