Richard Nixon once said, ‘Politics would be a helluva good business if it weren’t for the goddamned people.’ For Pilgrim the evidence for this lies in a bulging MP’s mailbag and surgery appointment book. Last month’s Pilgrim column argued casework traduces the lofty ideals of democracy and political representation, cutting into the time politicians have in office to change the world and so changing them from ‘representatives and legislators into social workers’.
As a councillor and having worked for an MP, I have some sympathy for the sentiment; for the sense of numbness which overcomes those of us who have answered an unknown number from the constituency only to receive a three hour lecture about the state of the bins/ bias in housing allocations/ the aliens who have landed in the school playing fields. Yet the truth is that not every resident who comes to a surgery clutches five plastic bags of papers and begins ‘well you see, it all started in 1975.’ And whilst Pilgrim aspires to sit in an intellectual haze on the green benches of parliament pontificating how to change the world, the rest of us relish the challenge that is presented by engagement with those you are elected to represent.
To see casework as incidental rather than integral to political representation is to ignore the way it plugs politicians into reality. Casework teaches you humility, for most casework is people who are failed by the very system that you, as the elected representative, have put in place. From being stuck in poor quality housing to mistakes made by our policing services, there is nothing more frustrating or overwhelming than knowing that the distress and misery the individual in front of you is suffering is ultimately your responsibility. It is a moment, which gives you clarity both of the impact of the decisions you have taken in the town hall or parliamentary chamber and also of the problems you have yet to solve. A good representative learns from casework so that in the future the service structures you put in place mean no one else has to experience the same difficulties. So, casework can open your eyes to policy problems in ways that think-tank publications can only dream. The work I do as a councillor on improving support services for victims of domestic violence springs from the experience I gained through a piece of casework, which showed me first hand an issue which had never made it into our cosy debates in the town hall.
There is also often a social equity aspect to casework. Many areas that Labour representatives are responsible for are not hotbeds of the chattering classes, well versed in complaining about public services and getting a fair deal. Yes, sometimes casework is simply assisting those who don’t know how to ‘kick up a fuss’ and who would otherwise suffer in silence. But let us not think helping those people and learning from their experiences is somehow beneath our politicians; our representatives should be judged not just by the speeches they give but also by their actions on the ground for the people they serve and sometimes that means getting stuck in at the front line. Pilgrim is right to call for MPs to be advocates for the communities they represent, but this isn’t possible from a distance. You have to be there, to listen to the people who elected you, to argue with them and for them, showing day in day out how Labour is working for them and a better future for all residents. A surgery full of angry and confused citizens shows you why politics matters. After all, if you can’t get things right on your own doorstep what hope do you have of getting it right across the country?