It seems that Chris Huhne is an unpleasant and flawed man. His public image was of a preening, arrogant politician. Just re-read his speeches as the energy secretary, and especially his ludicrously overblown promises around the so-called ‘Green Deal’.  Just a couple of years ago Huhne claimed the Green Deal would transform our lives and put Britain at the forefront of the fight against global warming. Today, I bet you’re struggling to remember what the Green Deal actually is.

It is the painful revelations about his private activities which put Huhne the man in the dock. The anger felt by his teenage son, expressed in those awful emails. The fury of Vicky Pryce, whose revenge on her unfaithful husband precipitated his downfall. The evidence in court that he coerced her into an abortion she didn’t want, because a baby would hold back his political career. These are the things that paint the picture of a man so self-absorbed, ambitious and messianic in his self-belief, that he was prepared to sacrifice everything for self-advancement. In prison, Huhne will have the time to reflect on whether it was worth it.

It might be comforting to think that Huhne is a one-off, cut from cloth different from other politicians. The truth is that our political system creates such monsters. For every MP who makes a success of their marriage, who will be remembered by their children as a kind and loving mother or father, there are ten absent parents and adulterous spouses. The system breeds them. If you read the diaries of some of the political greats, you can read between the lines of the perennial guilt at missed children’s birthdays, parents’ evenings and anniversaries.  Think of the relationship between Margaret Thatcher and Carol and Mark. Or the disastrous relationship between Winston Churchill and his son Randolph. Or the lines in Tony Benn’s book Letters to my Grandchildren which seek his own children’s forgiveness for not being there. Or Richard Crossman’s son Patrick, who hanged himself, aged 17, in the family kitchen.

In our own times, I can think of endless numbers of MPs whose relationships have broken down after their election to parliament, or elevation to the Lords. I know plenty who look back at the their time as ministers, and just hope that their constant absence has not damaged their children too much.

There is, of course, an unwritten rule that every political article must mention Borgen. Season one saw the prime minister’s husband leave her, citing the pressures of her job and her prolonged absences. At the centre of the dramatic arc of season two, is the mental breakdown of the prime minister’s teenage daughter. Even Birgitte Nyborg, who is portrayed as nice, normal and moderate, pays a terrible personal price to serve in high office.

Why do so many politicians make such poor parents and spouses? Partly it is a product of the long hours and enclosed atmosphere of Parliament. MPs are cocooned for long periods within Pugin’s walls, away from the everyday humdrum of school runs and trips to the supermarket. The thrill of an affair is part of the thrill they feel at being part of such an exclusive club, I imagine.

Partly it is because the opportunities for infidelity are legion. Alan Clark famously said the lobby of the House of Commons, along with the departure lounge of Milan airport, was the easiest place to pick up women. When John Major conducted his affair with Edwina Currie (both of whom were, and still are, married to other people) it was because of the opportunity as much as the motive. Lots of MPs enjoy success in the romantic field which would not be obviously suggested by their physical appearance, if you know what I mean.

But partly it is because politicians, the more senior they become, are more driven by self-belief. Blair has called it a vocation. It is indeed a calling, but based on arrogance not humility. Many senior politicians believe that they alone can do the job right. All prime ministers believe that only they can lead the nation. It becomes self-fulfilling. Only those willing, like Huhne, to risk everything end up making it. Anyone plagued by self-doubt, or seeking some balance between their career and their loved ones, tends to fall by the wayside.

The answers to all this are complex: family-friendly working hours for MPs; the end to the regular 20-hour ministerial working day; candidates drawn from a broader range of ‘normal’ backgrounds, not merely the obsessives and nerds; a relaxation of the whipping system, so MPs can attend a parents’ evening or tenth birthday party; an acceptance that MPs will employ their partners as political aides, as the only way to see them every day; maybe even better allowances so MPs’ families can live near them during the week, if they choose to. Something needs to give. Chris Huhne provides this month’s Shakespearean tragedy, but he is not alone.

Right now in Westminster there are MPs doing much worse.

—————————————————————————————

Paul Richards writes a weekly column for Progress, Paul’s week in politics. He tweets @LabourPaul

—————————————————————————————

Photo: Alberto Garcia