Politics

Ruth Davidson’s resignation should change how we talk about mothers in politics

For people up and down the country, career decisions are influenced by what’s best for our families as well as our jobs. So why are we so bad at talking about it when it comes to politicians?

August 29, 2019
Ruth Davidson's move is politically savvy as well as good for her young family. Photo: PA
Ruth Davidson's move is politically savvy as well as good for her young family. Photo: PA

Ruth Davidson’s resignation as leader of the Scottish Conservatives has so far been largely viewed through the prism of Brexit. Having campaigned for Remain—and repeatedly clashing with Boris Johnson during the run up to the referendum—it is hardly surprising that she decided to step back from the frontline as we teeter ever closer towards a no-deal.

She didn’t back Johnson to become PM, and she certainly doesn’t agree with his “do or die” rhetoric. Perhaps his prorogation of parliament was a step too far?

Quite possibly. But any parent reading her resignation letter, or watching the subsequent press conference, would be in no doubt as to the truth of the other reason given.

The main change in the last year, she said, was starting a family.

The popular 40-year-old kickboxing lesbian, who looked as comfortable on Have I Got News For You as she did driving a tank, talked of “dread” at the prospect of spending time away from her baby Finn, who was only born last October.

This powerful, biological feeling will be recognised by parents up and down the country. Most of us only have to be away from our infant children for a few hours in the day and still, if we think about it, it hurts. The thought of spending weeks at a time on the road—missing first steps, first words, even the first night of sleeping through—is like a kick in the gut.

Can we be honest and admit that becoming a parent fundamentally changes a person? Where once we were happily dead inside, now we are chock-full of emotions. Songs take on a different resonance. TV shows with children in danger suddenly make us cry or shout out. Even adverts that once left us cold reduce us to quivvering wrecks.

But it’s not just your emotions. Your priorities shift, and with them your willingness to put up with shoddy treatment, to shut up, and to take whatever your boss is giving you because it might lead to a promotion.

Suddenly, staying late to get a pat on the back seems less important than racing across the city for a kiss before bedtime.

This is not exclusive to mothers. The more we move towards a world in which shared parental leave is the norm, the more fathers feel it, too. The more time dads spend with their children when they’re very young, the more they feel that dread when they are away. It’s something we should recognise, particularly in professions like Davidson’s, where the job demands top billing over family.

Expectations are that mothers are “there” for their children. In heterosexual couples, they are still most often the ones who are called out of work when their child is sick, the ones who are judged more harshly if they miss an important milestone. There is a reason why so many of our female leaders do not have children, either through accident or design.

Perhaps if we could talk more openly about how parenthood can make you reassess your priorities, we could find a way to address the disappearance of new mothers from public life.

This has started in parliament, which is currently trialling a temporary proxy voting system—but even this seemingly simple step took powerful pleas from MPs like Jess Phillips and Tulip Siddiq, who delayed her own C-section so she could vote down Theresa May’s Brexit deal.

Still, parliament has a long way to go before it fosters a welcoming environment for young parents. Working in the lobby you see parents having to make tough calls all the time—often at the cost of family life.

Davidson is passionate both about her family and the future of the country. Indeed, she had a message for Siddiq and others in Westminster. She bemoaned the “three golden opportunities” that MPs had squandered to avoid the looming cliff edge, and told them not to mess up the next one.

If they want to avoid a no deal Brexit, they must vote for a deal “for God’s sake.”

Clearly, if Davidson had seen value in her remaining in position, and if she still had faith in the direction the PM was taking the country, she may have stuck with the role. But having to do all that and grit your teeth through an outcome you hate but have to defend, then smile through it all in the subsequent elections, was a step too far for someone who also wants to prioritise their family. It’s smart as a Tory Remainer in Scotland to step away from the nexus of Johnson too, because when she returns—when not if—she will be able to wash her hands of whatever the end result will be.

Because this feeling does not last forever. When Finn is older, and that dread sense of leaving him has died down. When Britain is perhaps out of, but probably still in trade discussions with, the EU. When things are perhaps a little less muddy in both her professional and personal life. That is when Davidson will be back, kickboxing, wisecracking and tank-driving her way into the limelight.