Perhaps until this week, you’d forgotten that Westminster has been plagued by questions about its working culture. It would be understandable: between Brexit, Trump and the implosion of the Labour party, it takes something exceptional for news editors to care again about gropy MPs or bullying lords (“It’s too much of a 2017 story,” an editor friend sighed to me about a harassment case her boss chose not to cover).
This week, two more major reports about harassment in Westminster have been published: one by Naomi Ellenbogen QC into bullying and harassment of House of Lords’ staff, the other by Gemma White QC into that of MPs’ staff. Perhaps some of the content will still shock you: 20% of Lords staff have been bullied in the past year, before you even add sexual harassment into the stat; MPs’ staff repeatedly use the word “career suicide” when discussing why they don’t make complaints. But to those of us who have made complaints, it is all too familiar.
The report from the Lords, in particular, sounds like a summary of behaviour at a public school that only recently admitted girls to its sixth form (Ellenbogen notes that the membership of the Lords is 75% male). The report suggests improvements that would cause outrage from the Daily Mail if they were needed to protect girls at a comprehensive school: CCTV in “hotspot” areas that lords favour for groping women, offices rearranged to make it harder for lords to look down the shirt of a female employee. There is plenty of bullying reported here that does not constitute sexual harassment, and plenty of same-sex sexual harassment in Westminster, as well as harassment by women of men. But the peculiarly male nature of the House of Lords is clearly part of the problem, as is the routine belittling in both houses of those with working-class accents or from racial minorities. You can keep installing CCTV until the Lords looks like a borstal in Texas – this behaviour won’t change until its membership changes.
We’ve seen many reports already, across political parties and parliamentary bodies (the Labour party has refused to publish the findings of the independent report it commissioned from Karen Monaghan QC – one wonders why). They have all made suggestions about structural change, especially to grievance processes. What we haven’t yet found is a way to change the culture. That is a particularly difficult task when society has low expectations of Westminster – and when, since the expenses scandal and with rising levels of abuse hurdled at MPs themselves, parliamentarians in turn have developed a deep siege mentality.
One standout quote from White’s report that is getting a lot of air is from a young political staffer who says: “As long as getting political jobs in parliament are dependent on who you know and who you’re related to, sexual harassment will be a necessary evil for ambitious young people like me who will choose our careers over our comfort every time.” It’s a line that disturbs, but will also delight some news editors, because it reinforces prejudices about victims.
During my encounter with Damian Green, it was clear that keeping quiet was an expected part of getting help with my career – something that became even clearer when I talked to friends to seek their advice. But look at the phrase this complainant uses to describe their situation: “a necessary evil for ambitious young people”. Those of us who have made public complaints, particularly women, have all been criticised for our perceived “ambition”. It’s a dirty word, a tag for people who invite consequences.
But everyone in politics or media is ambitious. Ambitious to make an impact on the world; to promote the causes we care about; and yes, often for personal recognition, too. That’s true of perpetrators and victims. It doesn’t mean it is acceptable to work in a field where we’re expected to giggle politely at groping bosses. Nor is it constructive when it encourages those of us with integrity to take our perfectly healthy ambitions elsewhere.
Neither the Ellenbogen nor the White inquiries name names – even though the latter speaks of hearing allegations “which can only be described as very serious sexual assault”. Their scope is to expose the culture – and in reports such as these, anonymity protects complainants as well as perpetrators. But to make real change, that is never enough. Those of us who named names in 2017 did so because we knew that change only happens when individual politicians are held accountable in public.
It is too early to see the long-term impact of the #MeToo movement. But one clue that change may not come as quickly as many of us originally hoped is the lack of consequence and accountability for men who stand accused of harassment. It was heartbreaking to read Ellenbogen’s contributors describe the “chilling effect” of the Lords’ refusal to punish their colleague Lord Lester, after its privileges and conduct committee found he tried to pressure a woman into having sex with him by promising to make her a baroness.
Meanwhile Michael Fallon mysteriously resigned in 2017, a few days before we began to learn about harassment allegations against him. Yet over the past two days, Fallon has been doing the media rounds to defend Boris Johnson, with a cabinet return mooted as a reward. I find it hard to imagine Johnson would make such a political blunder. The continuing questions about Fallon’s behaviour - how exactly had he, in his own words, “fallen below the high standards” that his post required, and why was he allegedly unable to reassure Theresa May that there would be no further such stories - would seriously undermine a new cabinet, especially under a prime minister who has struggled to convince voters of any feminist credentials. But the fact such an idea is even floated shows how little Westminster has learned. White and Ellenbogen have published important reports, but unless we ensure individuals are brought to justice, nothing will change.
• Kate Maltby writes about theatre, politics and culture
