Jane Roberts
Losing political office
Acknowledgements
Most of the fieldwork for this research was undertaken while
the author was an Associate Fellow at Warwick Business
School, and the remainder of the fieldwork, the analysis and
the writing is being done while the author is a Visiting Fellow
at The Open University Business School.
I would like to thank all my interviewees for their time and
reflectiveness; the Local Government Association (LGA)
for fieldwork funding; Raj Chada, former leader of the
London Borough of Camden, Dr Doug Naysmith, former
MP, Phil Hope, former MP, and Charles Walker, MP, for their
comments on the protocol; Professor Jean Hartley for her
unstinting support and supervision; and members of the
Advisory Group for this research project for their valuable
contribution:
Professor Jean Hartley, Professor of Public Leadership,
The Open University Business School
Biographical note
Jane Roberts
Jane Roberts is a Visiting Fellow at The Open University
and a member of the Leadership Research Discussion
Group at The Open University Business School. She has
a professional background in medicine and healthcare
management and has worked as a Consultant Child and
Adolescent Psychiatrist for the National Health Service for
over 20 years. She was a member of the London Borough
of Camden for 16 years and Leader of the council from 2000
to 2005. She was awarded a DBE in 2004 for services to
local government. She chaired the Councillors Commission
for the Department for Communities and Local Government
(2007–2009) and she chairs the think tank, New Local
Government Network.
roberjane@gmail.com
Christina Dykes, adviser on political leadership
development
Professor Paul t’Hart, Professor of Public Administration,
Utrecht University
Lucy de Groot, former local authority and charity
chief executive and former senior civil servant, HM Treasury
Phil Hope, former MP and Minister of State
Karen Izod, Visiting Research Fellow, Faculty of Health and
Applied Sciences, University of the West of England
Professor Tina Kiefer, Professor of Organisational
Behaviour, Warwick Business School
Sir Michael Lyons, Chair of the Lyons Inquiry
Rt Hon Peter Riddell, Director, the Institute for Government
Joe Simpson, Director, Leadership Centre
Annette Stansfield, doctoral candidate,
The Open University Business School
Professor Kevin Theakston, Professor of British
Government, Leeds University
Department of Public Leadership and Social Enterprise
The Open University Business School
The Open University
Milton Keynes
MK7 6AL
United Kingdom
I thank Karolina Larusdottir for permission to reproduce her
etching, ‘Setting Off’ on the front cover of this report.
Copyright © 2015 The Open University. All rights reserved.
Losing Political Office
Aims of this report
This report summarises key findings from the research study about the loss of political office
by UK elected politicians at both national and local government level, through voluntary
stepping down or through defeat at the ballot box.
This is a timely moment to reflect on losing political office. With a general election nearly upon
us, and with concurrent council elections in many localities, some sitting MPs and council
leaders will face dramatic change in their roles and responsibilities, their lives and their
identities within six months. Understanding what that experience is like by those who have
fairly recently undergone that loss and transition can be helpful, not only to those politicians
themselves, but also to our society as it strives to sustain a healthy democracy.
The findings are relevant beyond this immediate timescale as well, given the potential impact
on our democratic system. The research is a contribution to understanding the ‘flows’ of
politicians into and out of office. If there are problems with or disincentives to standing down,
this has an impact on what elected politicians do in office and how they relate to the publics
they serve. While the research is set in the UK, there are, potentially, implications for other
democratic systems.
The report presented here is a first step in generating a wider debate about losing political
office, which is of relevance to politicians themselves, but also political parties and political
institutions such as Parliament and the Local Government Association, as well as civil society
groups and the wider public.
The fuller findings and discussion will be available in a book that is currently being prepared.
I am keen to hear from individuals and groups with perspectives on these matters of losing
office and of how we can improve the experience, so that society is able to both make the
transition smoother for those standing down and ‘recycle’ their talents and skills in ways
that benefit society. Please add your comments and challenge my arguments via my blog
losingpoliticaloffice.wordpress.com
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Losing Political Office
Summary
Representative democracy depends on politicians exiting office. It is part and parcel of our
democratic system. There is considerable interest in who stands for and gains office, but
curiously little about the leaving of political office: What is the experience like? What happens
to politicians as they make the transition from office? What is the impact on their partners
and family? Does it matter to anyone other than those immediately affected? Are there any
wider implications?
A detailed and systematic study was conducted to examine these questions. A sample
was constructed of former council leaders and former MPs (to cover both local and national
elected politicians), and, where possible, they and, separately, their partners were interviewed
about the experiences of leaving political office, following either choosing to stand down or
an electoral defeat. The impact of leaving office on the individual, the partner and family
was explored. In addition, some current council leaders and MPs were interviewed about
their thinking about their intended duration of their time in political office, in order to inform
a consideration of any wider implications from the research findings. The interviews were
equally balanced between local and national government, and participants represented a
variety of constituencies, wards or divisions in the UK and in varied demographic contexts.
The sample covered all three main political parties.
In total, 41 confidential interviews were conducted, most lasting about an hour and a half,
but some considerably longer. All interviews were audio-recorded and the tapes were
transcribed, ready for analysis.
Turning to the key findings,
Most interviewees – whether they had chosen to go or not – had grieved the loss of political
office in some way, often intensely. In adjusting to a very different life, most had experienced
a sense of dislocation. They had initially struggled to find a new narrative about who they
were and what they did, and a number had struggled to find employment. Many of those
who had been defeated at the ballot box described emotional devastation and a profound
sense of personal failure at the loss of their position at the time of the defeat. For a number,
this was still the case when I interviewed them well over a year later. Many who had been
defeated – and especially their partners – felt deeply hurt and angry at the thoughtlessness of
the political parties that they had served so loyally, often over many decades. There had often
been little or no acknowledgement from the party of their tireless contribution over the years.
They had simply been cast out. They lamented that their skills, knowledge and experience
had not been made use of, and they conveyed a deep sense of frustration that there was so
little interest in what they still had to offer.
A small number of interviewees, all MPs who had stood down, had been relieved to leave
office, finding the role increasingly unattractive and wanting a more fulfilling professional and
personal life elsewhere.
From my interviews, it was clear that current politicians mostly had given little thought to
when and how they might leave political office. MPs, by and large, were reluctant to think
about it. Council leaders tend to be in office for a shorter time than MPs, but, even so, few
had given much thought to when and how they might leave it.
Stories are often powerful. And so it is the case here. There are many powerful narratives in
this research: about the experiences of holding political office; about how carelessly dismissed
the individuals feel on leaving that office; and about how what former office holders may still
have to offer is so little recognised.
I argue that not only do we, the public, do a disservice to those who leave political office
and their families, but we do ourselves a disservice by failing to make use of their valuable
skills and experience. Furthermore, I make the case that the conditions into which we elect
our representatives and the smoothness or otherwise with which they can leave office have
wider implications for our representative democracy.
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Losing Political Office
This report is not about special pleading for politicians. Politicians must lose office. We must
be able to kick them out – our representative democracy depends on us doing precisely
this. They ought to be able to choose to leave and return to Civvy Street with some risk but
without heavy penalties, both professionally and personally. But our democratic system does
not depend on treating politicians with so much less thought than that accorded those in
other occupational roles; it does not depend on laying waste their accumulated skills and
knowledge; and it does not depend on a voyeuristic salaciousness. This report is not arguing
for money to be spent to address these issues: it argues merely for some thought and better
design of the transitions from political office-holding to other roles.
How politicians gain office, their experience of holding office, and how they exit office all
contribute to a fluidity between those who are elected to represent and those whom they
represent – essential to any healthy system of representative democracy. There is much
debate about routes into political office, and some about the experience of office. But there
is little debate about routes out of office, when and how to relinquish political office and what
conditions facilitate politicians to leave, should either they or the electorate deem that it is
time.
This report demonstrates that exiting political office matters a great deal to those who are
both directly and indirectly affected. That may well be unsurprising. But how the exit is
managed and what happens subsequently matters to us all. The transition from political
office is a transition of considerable significance – and not just for those making it.
The report therefore finishes with recommendations to a range of individuals and bodies
who can take steps to ease the inevitable transition which will occur for all politicians at
some stage – the politicians themselves, their families, their political parties and institutions
such as Parliament and the Local Government Association. I argue that more thoughtful and
empathic actions on exit will lead to a healthier democracy.
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Why bother about losing political office?
Why bother about the leaving of political office? Why the fuss? Surely, it’s a transition much
as any other and can be informed by the considerable amount that we already know about
redundancy, retirement or indeed life transitions in general. Moreover, politicians know the
score when they enter the fray; why single them out for any consideration at all?
While politicians share elements of their role with other occupations – many occupations are
just as intensely and relentlessly demanding, for example – I argue that it is the combination
of factors associated with the political role and the leaving of it that is distinctive:
olitical office as an MP or a council leader is immensely hard work that intrudes upon
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family life, is unconfined to any normal hours of work, requires working in more than one
locality and more than one arena and entails continual shuttling between constituency and
political chamber.
he attraction of politics for many is all consuming, not only of time but of identity and
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deeply held beliefs: personal and occupational identities are often deeply intertwined.
ublic expectations of access to their elected representative are higher now than they ever
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have been. There is often little time for the office holder to develop or maintain interests
beyond politics.
ontinuous media scrutiny and sometimes public exposure are now part of the package,
C
often edged with cynicism, distrust and sometimes contempt.
et seeking positive constituents’ perceptions and opinions is a legitimate and intrinsic
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element of a politician’s role. On these perceptions rest votes and thus both the individual
and their political party gaining office.
hen the time in office comes to an end, involuntarily or not, the cliff edge is often very
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steep: loss of office may be sudden and unexpected, and can be entirely unrelated to
individual poor performance in some situations (one’s party is out of favour, for example).
Council leaders experience ice-cold turkey: they are out immediately after a defeat with no
redundancy pay, not even the statutory minimum.
nlike senior managers who can move to another organisation or another part of the
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country without loss of status, politicians mostly have to build up support in a locality to be
elected, and therefore cannot move on so quickly, even if they wish to.
In common with others made redundant, politicians may lose office at any age, and often
well under retirement age. But, unlike many facing redundancy or retirement, there is little
in the way of anticipation of a significant transition, let alone a package of support (such
as coaching or career management) on exit for politicians. Quite the reverse: a politician’s
demise may be greeted with glee.
inally, politicians are private individuals, but they are in public office as elected
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representatives. Their leaving of office is not just a private affair; they are subject to the
expectations of their constituents. Politicians cannot help but be the recipients of a wide
range of emotions projected on to them by others. Anger, guilt, anxiety and disappointment
are just some of the powerful emotions that the public may commonly bring to the encounter.
Such emotions may be internalised, and politicians thus have to cope with both these
projected feelings as well as their own expectations, responsibilities and sense of duty.
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Losing Political Office
What is known about losing political office?
In essence: not much.
There is an extensive review of the academic literature on the loss of political office in my
forthcoming book. What follows here is a brief summary.
Research on leaving political office began in the 1920s in the United States, and gathered
pace later in the twentieth century with explorations of the lives and activities of US presidents
after they had left the White House. Even so, there is little that has probed presidents’
lived experience of transition from office and their adjustment to post-presidential life. US
presidents, of course, if they are re-elected for a second term, not only know when they
will be leaving office four years before it happens, but the transition itself is two months
or so, before the inauguration of their successor. This is very different from UK politicians’
experience.
There is a more recent literature emerging this century on what happens to heads of
government from nations other than the USA, mostly Western-style democracies, once they
have left office (Theakston and de Vries, 2012). This literature on political sunsets has focused
on what such leaders have gone on to do – what roles they may take on and their degree
of influence after office. All are at risk of ‘relevance deprivation syndrome’ (coined by Gareth
Evans, former Australian foreign minister, and cited by Keane, 2011, p. 284). Theakston and
de Vries’ case studies demonstrate that success or failure in high office does not predict
the success or otherwise of what comes later. They suggest that there are increasing
opportunities for former national government leaders to play a role on the international stage,
but both personal and broader contextual factors will influence their ‘afterlife’.
There is little information, however, examining the experience of transition from office of
politicians who have not achieved the highest office, although the literature from Canada
is richer than elsewhere. For example, Shaffir and Kleinknecht (2005) powerfully describe
the intensity of the trauma of an electoral defeat, based on interviews with former Canadian
federal and provincial parliamentarians. There are also reflections from autobiographies, but
they make little mention of the emotional and psychological consequences of leaving office
or of the impact on partners and wider family impact. There is not a great deal of work in the
UK, but the work by Kevin Theakston and colleagues from Leeds and by Ashley Weinberg
in Salford has been particularly useful. The Leeds University group surveyed Westminster
MPs who left Parliament in 2005, exploring reasons for standing down where MPs had
chosen to go, the practicalities of leaving the House of Commons, and what happened next
(Theakston, Gouge and Honeyman, 2007). A study by Weinberg (2007) sent questionnaires
to a number of Westminster MPs before and after a general election, looking at measures
of well-being in those still in office, and those who had left office either by standing down or
having been defeated. Weinberg highlighted the merits of MPs preparing in advance for life
after Parliament.
With regard to what happens to leading local government figures, however, I have not been
able to find any work, despite a persistent search.
There is a wealth of literature studying other transitions that may have relevance to the
experience of loss of political office. Most relevant are redundancy, unemployment, retirement,
bereavement, and loss and change more generally (e.g. Jahoda, 1982; Beehr, 1986; Hartley,
1987; Marris, 1993; Vickers, 2009; Gabriel, Gray and Goregaokar, 2013; Wang, 2013),
which demonstrate that each transition is a process and a journey over time, with multiple
meanings and impact beyond the immediate financial and practical, and affecting families,
not just the individual. There is also some interest in what happens to specific post-holders,
for example chief executive officers, or people in specific occupations, such as top athletes
(Lally, 2007) or members of the armed forces, once they exit their role. None of these roles
and occupations, however, carries the same representative function as does a politician.
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Losing Political Office
An understanding of the possible impact of the loss of political office may be informed by
Ebaugh (1988), who provides rich insights into the experience of ‘exes’. A former nun turned
academic, Ebaugh became interested in ‘role exit’, that is ‘the process of disengagement
from a role that is central to one’s self-identity and the re-establishment of an identity in a
new role that takes into account one’s ex-role’ (Ebaugh, 1988, p. 1). She was curious that
so little scholarly attention had been paid to the area, in contrast to the interest paid to role
entrance. She did not, however, interview ex-political office holders. Based on interviews with
a number of other ‘exes’, such as ex-nuns, divorcees and ex-doctors, most of whom had
left their previous role voluntarily, she has devised a four-stage model of role exit: beginning
doubts; seeking alternatives; a turning point; and creating an ‘ex-role’. She has called for
further studies that compare voluntary and involuntary role exits.
Overall, there are significant gaps in our understanding of the experience of transition from
political office. Keane, who has argued for a ‘politics of retreat’, has described the area as:
‘Under-theorized, under-researched, under-appreciated, and – in many cases – underregulated.’ (Keane, 2011, p. 282–3).
There is little from a sociological or a psychological perspective, little analysis on the experience
of transition itself from interview data in the UK, and there is relatively little literature on the
experience of transition from political office at a ministerial or parliamentary level. The transition
from local government leadership has not, to my knowledge, been analysed. Furthermore,
the implications of the experience of transition from political office for our democratic system
have been little debated.
It is intriguing that so little is discussed and written on what is after all an integral part of our
democratic system.
Research questions
Given the gaps in the literature, I set out to explore what happens to politicians who have not
been heads of government but who have occupied prominent political positions. I examined,
therefore, the experiences of MPs and council leaders of large local authorities.
I asked the following research questions:
What is the experience of losing elected political office for the office holder?
What are the consequences of the loss of political office for individuals and their families?
What, if anything, can be done to mitigate any negative consequences?
hat can current politicians tell us about the period prior to exit and how the matter is
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(or is not) approached while in office?
Are there any wider implications from the data for our democratic system?
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Losing Political Office
The research design and methods
I chose to focus on UK MPs in the Westminster Parliament and council leaders of unitary
or county authorities because of the relative lack of attention to politicians at this level of
governance exiting office.
Semi-structured interviews were conducted with three groups of politicians or ex-politicians:
Ten former MPs and council leaders who had chosen to stand down from political office;
Ten former MPs and council leaders who had been defeated electorally; and
Ten current MPs, council leaders and directly elected mayors.
Given that directly elected mayors are a relatively recent introduction to local government
political structures, very few have left office; including any former directly elected mayors,
therefore, may have compromised confidentiality. I only sought, therefore, to include directly
elected mayors in my group of current politicians.
In addition, I interviewed:
The partners of those in the first two groups where possible.
The study was designed to ensure that former and current politicians came from all three main
political parties and that they had represented geographically diverse constituencies. Some
MPs had been ministers, in either a junior or a senior position, while others had remained
on the backbenches. By design, all the MPs interviewed had to have lost office at the 2010
general election to ensure that the experience was still fairly recent. Former council leaders
were selected for the study where they had lost both their leadership position and their seat.
This ensured they had fully lost office. Very few council leaders had lost their position and
seat in 2010, and therefore the span of years was widened, from 2008 to 2012. Only two
of those contacted declined to participate (one former MP and one current MP), and three
others did not reply (one former leader and two current MPs).
Permission to contact a partner and their contact details were sought from each interviewee.
The two groups of former politicians, 20 in total, included council leaders who had left office
at different times in the four-year period 2008 to 2012, but half had left in 2011. The time that
had elapsed between their leaving office and my interview ranged from 12 months to just
under four years, with most interviewed between 12 and 18 months after they had left office.
All the former MPs were interviewed about two years after they had left office following the
May 2010 general election. Eleven partners were interviewed: not all of the former politicians
were currently with the partner that they had had at the time of leaving political office; and
some did not wish to be interviewed.
All but one of the council leaders interviewed had undertaken the role on a full-time basis
with no other paid employment; this is not a requirement of the post, although it is expected
of directly elected mayors.
The ten current politicians interviewed had been elected to their current position for widely
varying times, from two to over 30 years. They were interviewed over a period from the
end of 2013 to May 2014. In addition to questions about their experience of holding office,
interviewees were asked about how long they were thinking of seeking to remain in office, the
factors that influenced their thinking, and what they may have learnt from seeing colleagues
move on from elected office.
All interviews were audio-recorded at a location chosen by the interviewee. A thematic
analysis of the fully transcribed interviews was undertaken.
All those whom I interviewed gave generously of their time, for which I am very grateful. They
showed politicians at their best – reflective, thoughtful and, for the most part, brutally honest.
Even if they had had a rocky course after leaving office, as many had, not an ounce of selfpity was displayed. Instead they readily accepted the democratic deal and had entered into
the political fray with their eyes open.
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Losing Political Office
In introducing myself, I outlined that I worked part-time at a university for this study. While
I said very little about my own background, I generally explained that I had a professional
background as a child psychiatrist, and many interviewees knew that I had previously been
leader of a London local authority. I did not refer at all to my own experience, but, for a
number of the interviewees, it may have been reassuring that they were talking to a former
fellow traveller from the political world, whichever party they came from. The research was
supervised by an experienced academic, who provided guidance and support and ensured
high research standards.
Key themes in the research interviews
I turn now to give some of the key elements of the rich material gained from the detailed
interviews. It is not possible to do full justice to this material in a short report, but there is
sufficient scope here to get an overview and to stimulate debate about losing political office.
Current politicians: Views about future exit
Current politicians were reluctant to dwell long on how long they might seek to remain in
office, particularly the MPs. One MP made clear it was:
‘Something I prefer not to think about. I just hope that when the moment … my preferred life
course is one where I wake up one morning dead.’
The one exception was an MP who had previously lost her/his seat some years before;
for her/him, the experience had been deeply scarring and had affected her/his view of the
present role.
Duration of council leadership is, on average, likely to be shorter than that of an MP (though
this depends on the political culture of the authority). But, in general, even for council leaders/
directly elected mayors, vague thoughts about when to step down had been put back and
little consideration had been given to how and when they might relinquish office. One thought
that the prospect was:
‘Horrible, absolutely horrible.’
S/he recalled how a predecessor with a national role in local government had:
‘Never been the same person since … he lost that standing … and to go from that to nothing
… in a way, it broke him.’
There is no recognised path that council leaders can take once their time of office ends, let
alone any information about what happens to former council leaders. A number raised this
issue, with one commenting:
‘There’s no programme for decommissioning a leader and there should be, especially
for those who are suddenly ejected from office: we all pay the price for our colleagues in
Westminster. You know, they do stupid things and we lose our seats.’
In the sample, most council leaders/directly elected mayors were not attracted to becoming
an MP as a next step. The House of Lords was seen as rather more attractive, but recognised
to be out of reach for all but the very chosen few.
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Losing Political Office
Former office holders
I now turn to the central part of this report, which examines the experience of former political
office holders in the period coming up to the loss of office and as they make the journey of
transition from that office. I start first with an exploration of what interviewees felt that they
had lost.
What was lost?
The experience of exiting political office cannot be understood without first having some
understanding of what was lost, the experience of holding office, so this is briefly explored
here from the perspective of the former council leaders and MPs. Experiences of holding
office ranged from intensely negative (for some MPs) to, more commonly, exhilaratingly
positive.
The experience of holding office was overwhelmingly positive for all the former council leaders
interviewed, without exception, while there was more of a mixed picture from the former
MPs. Four MPs had come to dislike the role intensely and had decided to stand down. Other
MPs, who had either stood down or been defeated, were more positive. All, whether former
council leader or MP, had been motivated by the possibility of bringing about change and
making a difference. A number likened their pull into politics to a vocational calling.
One former council leader, who had held a number of different senior professional roles,
reflected the views of many, summing up the experience of holding office as leader:
‘It was a bit like a roller coaster. It was unremitting, interesting, challenging. It was sort of
utilising all of me.’
For many MPs, there was a similar exhilarating sense of the potential for influence, being
in the centre of things, and, perhaps especially, the joy of mattering. One described the
seductiveness of the role:
‘The huge addiction to being where it’s happening, particularly if you think you’re part of it.
So you’re making it happen, you’re not just an observer of it.’
For those MPs for whom the experience of office was far less congenial, there were a number
of different factors that had hastened their exit: the intensity of the media intrusion into their
personal lives; the heavily encroaching demands on family life; a sense of powerlessness in
the role; and concerns about the role of an MP having become increasingly professionalised.
Said one, the role of an MP had become:
‘Immeasurably less attractive’, with too high a personal price to pay.
Another:
‘The powerlessness, which is really key to why I stopped, all came from the media. That’s
the great power in the land.’
Overall, the experience of political office was enormously enjoyed and valued, but a small
number of MPs, not council leaders, were eager to get out. One can see how much there is
to give up for most in leaving political office, not only work, but identity, influence and passion.
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What were the experiences of losing political office?
In terms of individuals’ handling of thoughts, emotions and behaviour, there were both
some commonalities of experience of leaving political office, and, inevitably, given the widely
differing personalities, backgrounds and experiences, many differences. The manner of exit
– voluntary or involuntary – accounted for some of the differences, but by no means all. The
picture was more mixed.
While a few of the politicians in this study were only too pleased to be relieved of the chains
(for that is what they were felt to be) of office, most, even many of those who had chosen to
go, indicated that they grieved in some way. Even if the decision to go was felt to be the right
one, all missed some aspects of the role, and most missed what came over as the intoxicating
brew of being in the centre of things: having some influence; the ability to effect change at
some level; making a contribution to thinking on policy; being seen to be on the national or
local stage; and even simply being busy and in demand, the less definable ‘buzz’. Former
council leaders, more than former MPs, missed the camaraderie and the friendship groups.
Assumptions may be made that those politicians who had chosen to go had planned and
prepared themselves for life after elected office, but, in many cases, curiously, this turned
out not to be so. And even when plans had been made, the actual experience of no longer
being in office was not necessarily as had been expected. The experience of the process of
transition from office had, by and large, been given little thought.
Four MPs found that the experience of transition from office was unequivocally positive.
Two had been able to return to their previous profession, each in its way a ‘club’ in terms of
close collegiate working, while another was young, able enough and with fewer domestic
commitments to be justifiably more excited than anxious about the future. One other had
come to find the role uncomfortable, but only after a number of years and changed personal
circumstances, and had subsequently felt fortunate to have a suitable berth. All described a
sense of relief at no longer being in office. For example:
‘It was a horrendous life … an overwhelming sense of relief … it was just so devastatingly
awful to be an MP.’
Most of the former politicians, however, whether they had been defeated or had stood
down, had much more ambivalent experiences: a rational and ready acceptance of the
consequences of what had been chosen or dealt by the electorate, but a yearning and sense
of dislocation at the same time. Most acknowledged a profound loss – a loss not only of what
had been but, just as importantly, of what might have been, a future as well as a past. The
partner of one former MP remarked of her spouse:
‘Lost a sense of who he was ... lost a sense of having a future ahead, a political future …
somebody whose past was now sealed off … the death of a future.’
Even if they had chosen to go, some admitted a sense of grief. No longer did it matter to
others what they thought, what they did: no one knew, much less cared. The buzzy world
of which they had been a part had moved on without them. The sense of irrelevance and
impotence was hard for some to deal with, and a small minority seemed depressed.
One former council leader who had stood down with initial equanimity after what s/he had
termed ‘a reasonable innings’ was surprised some months later to find that the transition was:
‘Much less simple than I thought. The emotional impact is a lot less simple than I thought.’
This former leader, despite a highly successful career in a number of senior positions,
acknowledged feeling more uncomfortable in the area where s/he had been leader rather
than elsewhere as there:
‘I was somebody and I’m now not.’
A former MP, also standing down at a chosen time, recognised that leaving office was:
‘Still a huge loss because, you know, it’s what I loved doing and had always wanted to do,
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and there was also a sense of I will never again have such a big job.’
S/he had dreamt of an even more senior post and, despite knowing that this was far from the
case, occasionally s/he still found her/himself thinking:
‘Of course, my life is over.’
Yet, of those standing down, only one had given any consideration to the immediate process
of transition itself. While most others who had chosen to go had thought and planned to
some extent for the future, surprisingly not all had done so, even if they had known and
publicly announced that they were going well in advance of the election.
Those who had been defeated had other issues to contend with as well: shock often at
an unanticipated event; a crushing sense of failure, humiliation; and, for some, shame. The
turbulence of defeat comes at a vulnerable time when losing candidates will be exhausted:
they will have run themselves ragged for months – relentlessly canvassing, mobilising
supporters, motivating their team, speaking and debating – prior to the election.
All described a bravura performance at the count at which they were defeated. Surrounded
by family, friends and colleagues who had supported them over the years, in the full glare of
the media spotlight, they were determined to keep themselves together:
‘I just put on a show. Inside I was smashed to pieces … I had to carry the party through it and
that was incredibly difficult and it took every ounce of emotional strength … but you’ve got
to hold it together and you know the second the mask slips, it’s flashlight, flashlight, flashlight
all over the place.’
Whether the former office holders had been defeated at the hands of an electorate or, worse,
not re-selected by the party, feelings – sometimes sheepishly acknowledged – of betrayal,
hurt and anger were common. Both defeated council leaders and MPs simply disappear: the
former have little opportunity to say goodbye to trusted staff; belongings have to be quickly
bundled away; and, nowadays, even e-mail addresses can be instantly disconnected. As
one former council leader memorably put it:
‘It was like a bereavement, and it was, but there was no funeral.’
Many former office holders likened the experience, often with some awkwardness and
diffidence, to bereavement, recognising that, as bad as they had found the experience of
defeat, they had not in fact lost someone close. But the experience was, nevertheless, one
of powerfully intense loss. Two former MPs sought to avoid their former constituencies – it
was just too raw, too painful. And a few described others avoiding them, not knowing what
to say. For example:
‘People who obviously knew me, but didn’t know what to say to me. It’s one of those weird
things like death, isn’t it, where nobody wants to say anything to you.’
Former council leaders cannot get away in the same way, living as they virtually always do in
the local authority area. But even so, one former leader avoided going back to County Hall
for many months and deeply regretted not being able to say goodbye to those with whom
s/he had worked closely.
Many, whether having been defeated or having stood down, had received little or no
acknowledgement of their diligent, immensely committed work over many years, further
rubbing salt into the wound. The unnecessary carelessness with which they were treated
was striking: often there was no communication at all from the national party or the party
leader. This was true across the three main political parties. One former council leader, who
had stood down but in contentious circumstances, was contemptuous of the national party
and commented:
‘There was no acknowledgement from the party at all – not even a letter or an email. Nothing,
which did hurt, and looking back on it, I think that’s outrageous.’
11
Losing Political Office
When genuine and personal letters had been sent or an event organised to mark the
contribution made by the former council leader or MP, such acknowledgements were long
and most gratefully remembered. Even subsequently, being recognised in the street, a form
of acknowledgement, was said by one partner to have bolstered the much-diminished
feelings of self-worth of a former MP.
In the longer term
For those who had stood down 18 to 24 months before I interviewed them, most had
adjusted well to their change in circumstances over the longer term. They had found other
sources of employment, interests and social networks, although they still missed the ability
to have significant influence, to matter politically. There was more time for partners and family,
often much welcomed. At least a couple of interviewees had, however, struggled greatly, one
with finding work as well as the emotional aftermath. The one interviewee who had planned
both the transition from office and the future with care had flourished in both her/his working
and personal life – but still could acknowledge the profound life changes.
There was a more mixed picture still in the longer term for those who had been defeated.
Social networks had almost inevitably changed, for some, very significantly. A number felt
isolated, forgotten and shunned. For example:
‘Ex-MPs are like rotting fish. Failed politicians are the worst of the worst. That’s what I feel
and there’s an unspoken feeling that the failure is contagious. I don’t think people say it but
… it’s not de rigueur to hang about with politicians who have lost because it’s a fish without
gills.’
One felt utterly bereft, as though s/he had lost her/his family. Most of the former council
leaders missed the friendships and camaraderie within local government.
On the other hand, two former MPs reported better physical health and more time to attend
to themselves.
Two former council leaders had, however, flourished – personally and with a range of political
and civic activities – after an initial period of devastation. Some others had struggled far
more, both to move on in their personal lives and in finding employment, while two others
were only just coming out of a period of profoundly low self-esteem and were finding their
feet. A couple of others remained in a very unhappy, fairly withdrawn and angry state, one,
for example, describing their state as:
‘I’m a wreck. I’m unemployable.’
Even if they had adjusted well to leaving political office, many interviewees felt that there had
been little interest in what they had to offer from their knowledge and experience. One former
leader talked wistfully of how:
‘Nobody seems to want to know you after and you just like fade away … there are those skills
that could be used to encourage other people.’
One former MP remarked on the irony of there being so little advice or signposting available to
exiting MPs when the House of Lords, immediately adjacent, contained many peers whose
experiences and talents might have been directly informative and helpful.
12
Losing Political Office
The partners
The impact on partners, both of their spouses being in political office and of leaving it, was
profound. Whether positive or negative, all described significant changes at home. For
example:
‘It was just finding a pattern to our lives that was different from the one we had before, which
I don’t think we did.’
Ripples often spread throughout the family, beyond the immediate household. A couple of
participants were no longer with their previous partners, separations triggered by the loss of
office.
Partners had all been very involved with a decision to stand down or with support in the
aftermath of defeat. It was often the partner, not the politician, who had held the anxiety
about possible electoral defeat and had acted to contain the often very intense emotions
as their political spouses left office, whether by standing down or defeat. The effect on the
couple relationship when the politician stood down was largely very positive, even if this
meant on one occasion a refocusing on the marital relationship and it coming to an end.
The couple dynamic in one other case had become more unsettled with one partner now at
home alone so much more.
Where the politician had been defeated, the effect on the couple’s relationship seemed to be
more complicated. All the partners had been very supportive up to and through the election.
Some of those who had lost at the ballot box felt guilty and a deep sense that they had failed
their partners as a result of having been defeated. With more time available to the couple,
some found that there were unexpected benefits for the relationship between them, while
there were a number where the couple dynamic had become much more difficult – with
impatience and resentment coming to the fore – usually where the former office holder had
remained very troubled.
Partners themselves often expressed a rawness and intensity about the experiences that
they and their politician spouses had undergone. Whereas the former politicians themselves
were sometimes somewhat coy about what they perceived to be negative feelings, their
partners were much less restrained about their fury and rage – mostly towards the local
and/or the national political party – at the abandonment of their spouse. A number – often
activists themselves – had left the political party as a consequence. There was fury at the
lack of recognition and use of their partners’ skills and knowledge – that they had been so
needlessly discarded and left to waste. As one put it, frustrated by the carelessness that her/
his partner’s manifest skills had not been made use of:
‘All those years of experience, knowledge, expertise particularly in a party that’s in opposition
but hasn’t got the sense to use it for free … the individuals concerned would feel so much
more self-worth that they haven’t got all these years that are just dumped and finished.’
13
Losing Political Office
A word or two of explanation
These findings can be understood using both a psychological and a sociological perspective.
I will briefly highlight some key points here, and I will develop these themes in the book being
prepared.
For those MPs who had disliked the role and fled from office, leaving Parliament was a
welcome release, and the transition was smoothly negotiated. For the others, the majority,
leaving political office, whether voluntarily or involuntarily, was a profound personal loss. We
know from studies on mourning that the loss of anything that is held very dear provokes a
reaction akin to grief. Grief is not evoked by bereavement alone. For many, holding political
office brings purpose, meaning, identity, status and social networks to lives. It is often an
all-consuming affair. Its loss brings a period of dislocation, a struggle to create new meaning
about oneself as an individual and in relation to the world. In such changed circumstances,
the psychological task is to re-organise, re-integrate and find a new narrative (Marris, 1993).
Or, from Ebaugh’s sociological perspective, ‘to create an ex-role.’
Marris (1993) suggests four conditions that facilitate the process of psychological reintegration:
past experiences of relationships that influence how we interpret the world and our emotional
resilience; the degree to which the meaning of what was lost is conflicted; time to prepare
for the loss; and events after the loss that may either support or frustrate the process of reintegration. Marris includes both the ability to feel in control of one’s destiny after the loss and
the ability to find common endeavour with others in his fourth condition. I consider these in
the context of this study.
14
Losing Political Office
What may help or hinder transition from office?
The manner of exit – having chosen to stand down or having been defeated – made some
difference to the experience of leaving political office, but it was far more nuanced than this
alone. Indeed, two former office holders, both unexpectedly and narrowly defeated, had
adjusted well and flourished within a relatively short time, while two who had stood down,
albeit with some degree of involuntariness, had struggled for a long time subsequently. The
picture is evidently more complicated.
Any degree of involuntariness in the loss of political office – whether because of deselection,
electoral defeat or a wish to avoid personal or political embarrassment – will complicate and
make more ambivalent the meaning of what has been lost. Feelings of anger, hurt, betrayal
or guilt may all cloud the picture.
Although it was not explored in any depth, personal resilience did seem to influence the
journey of transition from office among my interviewees. Those whose identities were almost
entirely wrapped up in their political role and whose social networks were exclusively centred
around politics had suffered most.
Family support made a great deal of difference to those leaving political office in this study,
but it was not always available: family relationships might not have been tended to as they
might have been owing to the demands of office; the effects of the loss of office might have
brought about significant difficulties in the couple relationship; or the ‘family’ of most value
was the political party that the politician felt most abandoned by.
That someone was of retirement age or beyond did not necessarily mean in this study that
they would adjust more easily to the transition from office. The imperatives for younger
former politicians to find alternative employment and build a new narrative were undoubtedly
stronger: if and when they did find a new role, then the opportunity to build a new narrative
was that much more straightforward. However, older ex-politicians also spoke about finding
a narrative (though not always in those terms). Nor did length of tenure seem to make much
difference: leaving political office was exquisitely difficult for both some who had been in
office a relatively short time and those who had been in office for much longer. There was
just a hint in this study that women had adapted better to their exit from office, but numbers
are too small to be confident about this.
Planning for both the immediate transition from office and the future had helped considerably.
This is not surprising: Bridges (2011, p. 8), resonating with Weinberg (2007), states clearly:
‘The failure to identify and get ready for endings and losses is the largest difficulty for people
in transition.’
Planning for a very different life – a different status, different social networks, a different identity,
no longer mattering to others in the same way, and a different purpose in life, as well as the
practicalities of income and structuring time – is a challenge. But it is important. Just ‘waiting
to see what happens’, as one interviewee in this study had done, is a dangerous strategy.
The one former MP who had planned leaving office with assiduous care had flourished, while
s/he was still able to acknowledge how much the loss of office had meant personally.
Planning was, of course, much more difficult for those who were defeated, perhaps
unexpectedly. There was little, if any, time to prepare for the loss of office. Not only were
candidates in marginal seats consumed by campaigning in the months before an election,
but, psychologically, it was very difficult to admit to themselves, let alone to others who were
campaigning hard on their behalf, that defeat was even possible – hence the importance of
partners holding the pessimism.
While planning was indeed very important, there was a suggestion that inflexibility about the
future was unhelpful. One interviewee had struggled to move on with her/his life, having only
one set and very determined goal that s/he would regain political office. Conversely, another
had been able to find more equanimity after a very difficult period, having set up a small
business in a very different sphere than the one s/he had originally envisaged.
15
Losing Political Office
Acknowledgement of the contribution that the former council leader or MP had made was
enormously valued by those who had experienced it. And its absence made things very
significantly worse. Letters and/or events to mark their transition from office had meant
a great deal: not quite a funeral, but something akin to it, and certainly a significant rite
of passage in the journey of transition. It helped the ex-politician to have recognition and
appreciation of their contribution. This is known from research on transitions to help in the
longer term.
Over half the former MPs in Theakston’s study stated that they did not feel that enough
use was being made of their experience (Theakston, Gouge and Honeyman, 2007). In this
study, similar views were expressed. That the skills and experience of both former MPs and
council leaders were little recognised, much less used, compounded the diminished sense
of confidence and self-worth of a significant number.
Recognition by others, perhaps even members of the public, that an individual had previously
been in political office and a public figure can be helpful to strengthen a new narrative about
who they are, of which having been an MP or a council leader is a key part. As Ebaugh (1988)
makes clear, an ‘ex’-role is very different from a ‘never’, not having ever been in political
office.
Meeting others in the same position did help some. Many interviewees had taken solace
from meeting with others in a similar situation, whether a group of deselected or defeated
councillors, former Labour MPs (the ‘PLP-in-exile’), or the Association of Former Members of
Parliament. In the early days, however, some had not felt robust enough even to meet; they
needed first to have begun to find their feet, to construct a new narrative about who they
were and what they would do.
Notably, those who had found the transition from political office particularly troubling had not
felt able to voice how they had been feeling, either privately or more widely. It was simply not
a subject that they felt could be comfortably raised. Politicians are, after all, supposed simply
to accept the democratic deal, with no whingeing allowed. But at a human level, why is it not
possible simply to acknowledge and empathise with the personal turbulence that may be
provoked for many? Leaving political office involves a profound, irreplaceable loss for most,
whether they have stood down or been defeated. As one former MP reflected:
‘The power to really decisively change things goes with political power … and that is what
you can’t replace by some other thing.’
Practical steps that could make a difference
It is not difficult to do better. Doing better does not mean that we have to compromise in any
way the fundamental tenets of our democracy.
We all could usefully:
imply acknowledge and talk openly about the human consequences of politicians leaving
S
office. Leave salaciousness aside. We should normalise the sense of dislocation and
understand the need to find a new narrative over time.
Individual politicians could usefully:
efore exiting office, think about and plan – not always possible – for the future. But take
B
care about whom you confide in, given the political risks.
If you are standing down, plan for the time leading up to leaving, the immediate transition
and the longer term, accustomising yourself as far as possible to a different life.
16
Losing Political Office
ven if contesting a marginal seat, get someone else to do some planning on your behalf,
E
just in case. Better something than nothing.
If someone else doesn’t organise an event suitably timed (if stepping down, at the time of
exit; if defeated, later) to mark your leaving, do it yourself – or again, get someone else to.
You need a rite of passage.
ecognise that this is a journey, maybe over two years at least, in which your task is to craft
R
a new narrative of who you are and what you do. In the early stages, especially, it is entirely
understandable that you might feel uncertain, bewildered and disorientated.
ecognise the many skills that you have acquired in office. Seek support with writing a CV/
R
being interviewed. Ask others for advice, even if you do feel so much less confident than
you did.
Be flexible. Try different avenues. Don’t hold out for only one thing.
on’t hold back from talking with others in the same predicament, if that would help you.
D
You don’t have to be all sorted before you go – they’ve been there.
Partners and family could usefully:
nticipate and understand what may be coming with the loss of office, including its intensity,
A
both the direct and indirect impact on you.
our partner will need support – but anticipate that your life, and possibly those of others in
Y
your family, is likely to change significantly, too.
Political parties (local and national) could usefully:
cknowledge – in timely and personalised manner – the contribution made by the departing
A
politician and their family. This needs to be thought about in advance so that someone has
the time, space and thoughtfulness to write genuinely and meaningfully.
Organise an event to celebrate their contribution. It will help.
ut to good use the departing politician’s knowledge, experience and skills to energise and
P
build the party at the grassroots and coach less-experienced politicians. It will help them
and you.
hink about ‘flow’ not only into but out of political office. Political parties should engage –
T
and be seen to engage – with the conditions that may make our democratic system more
robust.
Parliament, Local Authorities and the Local Government Association (LGA) could
usefully:
Recognise the potential difficulties for politicians leaving office.
cknowledge – in a timely and personalised manner – the contribution of the departing
A
politician. Do this even if there has been a change of political control.
ignpost former MPs and former council leaders who need it to helpful employment and
S
career advice.
ecognise the increasing impact of the loss of office that will face full-time council leaders
R
and directly elected mayors and its potential consequences.
rack what happens to former leaders. The LGA could do this. Currently we have no
T
overview.
ut to good use former MPs’ and council leaders’ knowledge, experience and skills, e.g.
P
incisively condensing complex material; ruthless priority setting; political judgement and
decision-making; and effective communication in a wide range of settings.
17
Losing Political Office
Why losing political office matters to all of us
Other than those immediately affected by the loss of political office, are there any wider
implications? Other than at a human level, why should we care?
Politicians themselves lose out. They may be fearful of stepping down, seeing colleagues
struggle, or they may be uncertain about possible choices ahead. They may end up staying
too long as a result, which can affect democratic performance and lead to a closing down
of personal options.
Political parties lose out. By their dismissive and thoughtless treatment of those who have
been defeated especially, they may lose the goodwill, membership and activism of committed
and knowledgeable people. At a time when most political parties are in a parlous state, this
is careless at best.
Employers may lose out. By failing to recognise and value the skills that former parliamentarians
and council leaders may bring, employers may lose out on using valuable skills. MPs’
responsibilities may not be well understood, and those of council leaders even less so. Yet,
they all perform a complex task. Council leaders have intimate local knowledge and are
ultimately responsible for a budget of hundreds of millions (at least) and the commissioning
and provision of hundreds of varied functions; they have to forge relationships with a myriad
of different individuals, groups and institutions and come to decisions, balancing the different
interests of many. It is delicate orchestration.
Civic society loses out. By failing to harness and make use of the knowledge, skills and
experience of people who have been elected representatives, we waste a valuable resource.
At a time when there is a very patchy understanding of our democratic system and, as
Stoker convincingly argues, of how politics is designed inevitably to disappoint, this appears
foolishly wasteful. It is not just that former political office holders know the mechanics of how
our system of representative democracy works, but, by virtue of no longer being in office,
they can see the system from both sides: as an elected representative and back again as an
ordinary citizen. This gives them an insight into the perspective of both, and an unparalleled
ability to speak the language of both. They have had to both make difficult compromises in
office and understand how those compromises are felt and experienced as ordinary citizens.
Coleman (2005) and Wright (2013) have written of how wide the gulf appears to be between
citizens and representatives, almost as if each inhabited a different planet. Yet, in former MPs
and council leaders, there is a cadre of people who are in pole position to bridge the chasm.
Yet they scatter to the wind.
We all lose out. Any healthy system of representative democracy in the modern day depends
on a reasonable degree of fluidity between those who are elected to serve in political
office and those whom they represent. Ordinary citizens should have a reasonable chance
of gaining political office should they be motivated, and not be precluded from doing so
by disproportionate risks that might be encountered. This thinking underlay one of the
core principles for effective representation that was agreed in the work of the Councillors
Commission (Department for Communities and Local Government, 2007). As one of my
interviewees put it, ‘Everyone should do a bit of politics.’ But if the difficulties of gaining
political office, holding that office and leaving political office are too great, we narrow the
group of people who will be able and motivated to stand to represent us. And we lose out: a
relatively closed political class serves its citizens less well (Riddell, 1996), whether at local or
national level. A political class distant from its electorate risks being less effective in terms of
the perceived authenticity of its conversation and communication, and in terms of its political
judgements.
Yet we know, for example, from the Social Mobility and Child Poverty Commission (Milburn,
2014) that there is a narrowing of access into political office, and that the chances of
coming back into the Westminster Parliament are likely to be fewer than they once were
(Riddell, 2013, personal communication). The stakes get raised. We know that pressures
on parliamentarians have increased (Weinberg, 2012) such that perhaps only those with
18
Losing Political Office
defences that are most adaptive to these pressures may be able to withstand them. The
stakes get raised still further. And this study suggests that we make it more difficult than it
needs to be for people to leave political office.
With the rise of the ‘career politician’ (King, 1981) or even ‘a political class’ (Oborne, 2007),
politicians who can stand, or even thrive in, the heat of office increasingly may not want to
go. Keane (2011) similarly describes office holders as at risk of suffering from the malady of
‘office dependency’, while one of my interviewees more prosaically described them as ‘bed
blockers’.
There has always been a proportion of parliamentarians who may be described as career
politicians. It is the balance of committed, full-time politicians at Westminster, however, that
has been changing (Riddell, 1996). Local government, with the changes brought in by the
Local Government Act 2000 (including directly elected mayors and cabinets, increasingly
full-time positions), is hurtling fast down the same path – but with little thought about the
consequences. Is this wise?
In his essay on why politicians are so disliked by the public, Wright (2013) argues that we
should focus more on ‘the nature and composition of the contemporary political class itself’.
The exit from political office – how it is viewed by those holding office, how it is experienced
and managed by those making the transition, and what happens subsequently – may be
only a tiny part of a much wider, more complex landscape, but it may have some bearing on
the nature and composition of the political class.
Concluding thoughts
Political mortality is not a comfortable subject to discuss. We shy away from lingering long
over exits of any kind. The nature of political office and its intoxicating allure for many makes
contemplating its end deeply painful. That politics is all about the promise of the future, that
political parties exist to fight elections, to win and to stay in power makes it all the more
difficult for any space to be made for thinking about politicians going in the reverse direction.
I argue here that there are compelling reasons that we should do so for them on a human
level and perhaps also for ourselves.
19
Losing Political Office
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