The latest gossip in Westminster is that the prime minister may be taking a course of anti-depressants. Columnists and bloggers have alleged that Gordon Brown is taking ‘heavy duty antidepressants known as MAOIs (Monoamine Oxidase Inhibitors)’ to stabilise and lift his mood. This rumour, along with other comments on the prime minister’s personal conduct, has led many in the press to suggest or imply that Brown’s leadership is inherently undermined by his alleged mental health difficulties, as well as by the medication he supposedly takes for those difficulties.

That implication is untrue. There is currently no way of substantiating the rumours, but if Brown were taking anti-depressants he should be applauded for it, rather than condemned. If the prime minister of Britain is suffering from depression or some other mental health condition, then I’m glad he’s getting treatment for it. I’m glad he’s strong enough to admit that he might need help.

Anti-depressants are used by millions of people in this country, although the stigma attached means that many of us don’t talk about it. In almost all cases, the process is both voluntary and helpful. As a person with mental health difficulties, I know that it takes immense courage to seek help, even if you’re not a leading political figure who is constantly in the public eye.

I only wish more politicians would follow Brown’s example – after all, it’s not as if mental health difficulties in government are unheard of. Last year, an All-Party Pharmacy Group investigation found that large numbers of politicians and staff were forced to hide mental health problems, with 19% of MPs, 17% of peers and 45% of staff reporting personal experience of mental health difficulties. 86% of MPs say that their jobs are stressful, and at a recent Depression Alliance event Laura Moffat MP bravely told guests that her own experience of depression was a direct result of her valuable and ongoing work in politics.

Despite the stigma attached, being open about mental health problems does not spell doom for a political career: Alastair Campbell, who has written widely about his experience with depression, is still active in politics, and in 2001 Kjell Magne Bondevik, the Norwegian prime minister, outed himself as a person with depression, and was subsequently elected for a second term. More and more politicians are proving that, like any health condition, mental health difficulty does not make one unfit for political office – especially not if the condition is properly treated and managed.

Attacking the prime minister for possibly taking anti-depressants is particularly nonsensical when one considers that some of the greatest leaders the western world has ever seen had serious mental health difficulties. Winston Churchill was plagued by crippling depression, which he referred to as ‘black dog’ and treated with that much less effective anti-depressant, booze. Lincoln was also chronically depressed and anxious. If Gordon Brown is a poor leader, then his opponents should criticise him on that basis, rather than resorting to unhelpful gossip about his mental health.

So, does the prime minister have mental health problems? Possibly. If he did, would that make him unfit to lead the country? Absolutely not. Mental health does not affect one’s morals or one’s ability to lead. Any flaws in Brown’s leadership style have as little to do with the prime minister’s mental health as David Blunkett’s eyesight has to do with his policymaking. By contrast, this country has seen plenty of perfectly mentally healthy politicians who have been immoral, corrupt or simply bad at their jobs.

The prime minister’s opponents are free to attack him on charges of cronyism, aggression, and lack of charisma; they are free to point out that the electorate did not vote for Brown as their leader. But to suggest that Gordon Brown’s mental health – good or bad, medicated or unmedicated – has anything to do with the success of his leadership is both disingenuous and demeaning to the urgency of debate on the future of British politics.