Strong Ambitions Loosely Held; or, Why I'm No Longer Seeking to be an MP

How I realised I didn't want to be an MP.

Throughout most of my late teens and university years I assumed I was going to a scientist. I liked science, was good at science and it was the natural career of choice - I'd never harboured ambitions of being a doctor, or becoming a millionaire.

But in my final years of university I started understanding what being a scientist actually involved, and it turned out it wasn't for me. The very high degree of specialism (particularly within a PhD), the painstaking attention to incredibly specialised points of detail, the isolated nature of the career (and frequent poor management), and so on. Although I loved reading about science, I had less of a penchant for spending six months finding out for myself a tiny fact I could find out in six minutes by reading about someone else's discovery. Indeed, I finally made the decision after an otherwise fairly wonderful ten week research placement at Arecibo Observatory in Puerto Rico: if being at one of the world's top observatories on a tropical island couldn't convince me I wanted to do the actual science itself (fun for ten weeks, a nightmare for three years), it probably wasn't for me..

So while I still harboured - and indeed, still do harbour - a soft-spot for being a scientist: a distinguished, bearded individual¹ who would appear on BBC documentaries to opine about the finer points of black holes, and occasionally teach the odd student - I realised I didn't actually want to do the day-to-day reality of what being a scientist involved.²

This is the first in a series of slightly more personal posts, to mark turning forty. They will appear every couple of months over the next year, in between the more standard posts. The first in this series, Whatever happened to my Fast Stream cohort, can be found here. And before we go on, if your own strong ambitions, loosely held or otherwise, are to read more from this blog, you can sign up to receive an update every time I post by entering your email address into the subscription form below. You can also help by sharing what I write (I rely on word of mouth for my audience).

In a similar way, this summer I recognised that I was more enchanted by the idea of being an MP than the realities of what being an MP entailed.

I've written previously about leaving the civil service³, in large part du to wanting to stand up more for what I believed in, rather than being impartial. At the time, I had the world divided into a somewhat binary division, for those involved in public policy formation: either one was a civil servant, committed to impartiality and all that that entailed, or else one was an MP.

In retrospect, that was kind of dumb.

Accordingly, I decided that I wished to be an MP, and began to plan how to do this, including - of course - leaving the civil service, getting involved in my local association. None of those were bad things: it was a great experience standing for the local council (even though I didn't win) and I might well choose to do that again one day. And the path it took me on has taken me to many interesting places, including three years as a special adviser, or SpAd⁴, to a fantastic role in a think-tank. In fact, if one considers the last five and a half years, and compare them to what I might reasonably expect to have happened in the civil service⁵, leaving has been an unmitigated success: whether that is measured in interestingness, excitement of experiences, financial reward, impact on public policy or any other measure. So I do not for one moment regret it.

However, at the same time as realising there were many other interesting roles in public policy beyond MP and civil servant, I also came to realise more just quite what being, and becoming, an MP would mean - and, in particular, the extraordinarily high toll it takes on family life. The defining moment came this summer, after getting to the interview stage for the safest seat in Hertfordshire, located about 2 miles from my house. After being defeated⁶, after about 24 hours of disappointment my overwhelming feeling was one of relief. About six weeks later I took myself off the candidates' list and haven't felt a moment of regret since.

Rather like the research placement on a tropical island, when one realises one doesn't want the best possible version of the thing on offer, it brings it hope that one is pursuing the wrong goal.

I have two children aged between 5 and 10. The last thing I want to be doing right now is spending every weekend and many evenings tramping the streets, attending community functions or schmoozing association members. I want to spend Remembrance Day watching Eldest in the parade, or the Coronation at the neighbourhood street party, not apart from them attending some function. I'd realised I'd been thinking, if I had got selected, how little I could get away with doing and still win: when one applies for a job with that attitude that's never a good sign.

And then there's what it takes to get selected. Being on the list means pressure to go and campaign in a never-ending series of hopeless by-elections, often hours drive away, meaning more time away from family. And when one looks at who local associations are choosing, it is overwhelmingly those who have already become Chairs or Deputy Association Chairs, experienced local councillors and/or held senior ranks in national Conservative voluntary organisations. I should emphasise that it is entirely reasonable for associations to be making these choices: particularly in the current climate, picking someone who has proven their worth and commitment at winning votes at local level may make the difference between keeping the seat or not. But it involves a further vast outlay of commitment and time away from family.

And, of course, there is no guarantee of success. There are many brilliant people on the candidates list - Olympic athletes, former officers in the military, successful entrepreneurs, head teachers - who have never won a seat. And in this, it is different from taking other long-hour jobs (like being a SpAd) in that there, the commitment and impact is certain, and for the length of the job, and is thus manageable, but to become an MP it is ongoing and open-ended. One significant moment was when I was having a drink with a friend, who had come second in a (winning) seat in 2019. He'd had a child since then, and his wife said, 'You not getting that seat was the best thing that ever happened to us.' And, of course, to really have a chance of being successful one has to be willing to move - a further, and major, blow to family, all of whom are extremely happy in our house, our neighbourhood, our town and our local school.

I hope that none of this is taken as a criticism of the candidate process. While like anything, I have the odd grumble, overall I found it to be pretty fair and reasonable. This is a highly competitive job that a lot of good people want to do - and the features they select on are core parts of actually doing that job. I would never say never: perhaps in ten years time, when the kids are older, I might put my hat in the ring again. But for now, family comes first.

I could talk about other parts of the job of an MP that are less than ideal. The vituperative online personal abuse, in particular, is not appealing. One MP I know has had to have police intervene when a stalker was prowling near their house - a hugely offputting incident for the whole family. But at the end of the day, I am still inclined to believe, to paraphrase Trollope, that having the letters MP after one's name is one of the highest honours on earth⁷. To be a Minister would be amazing - and if it were possible, magically, to have a position in Cabinet, of course that would be fantastic, just as it would be to be the aforesaid Emeritus Professor holding forth learnedly about singularities and the Higgs boson. But a career is about more than its highest summit and the joy must be in the journey. There are many other ways to be involved in public policy.

Which takes us back to the title of this post, and strong ambitions loosely held: good motto for living one's life by. The fact that one cannot know how one's desires will change over a decade should not prevent one being ambitious for it. It is the ambitions that drive you on.

Ambitions to be a scientist took me to Cambridge, and to a first class degree. Ambitions to be a top civil servant took me into the Fast Stream, and into a varied, enjoyable and fulfilling career in the civil service. Ambitions to be an MP launched me into an adventure involving foreign travel, SpAddery and more, that is still ongoing. The fact that I didn't ultimately achieve those specific ambitions didn't stop them from propelling me onwards and upwards to new and better things. The joy is in the journey, and while ambitions are vital, they should never be a straitjacket: one should always have the courage to recognise when what one wants most has changed.

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Those waiting for the results of the Alignment Survey: I am halfway through writing these up and will post the results later this week.