To many, the actions of Neil Parish, married and grandfather of two, as well as the former MP for Tiverton and Honiton, who confessed to watching pornography twice in the House of Commons, may appear to be an isolated ‘moment of madness’. His actions, according to his tearful interview with the BBC, were as follows: the first time, he claimed, Parish had been looking at tractors before he, “did get into another website sort of a very similar name and I watched it for a bit.” However, Parish’s “most biggest crime,” was to deliberately watch adult material while, “sitting waiting to vote on the side of the chamber.” The only way to understand why an elected MP felt sufficiently comfortable to behave like a hormonal teenager in their bedroom while in the Commons chamber, is to consider that this incident is one of a multitude which reflects an underlying culture of misogyny and sexual misconduct, and that both the hesitation of Parish’s identification, and the internal reaction to his actions suggest a further sense of immunity from accountability in the Commons.
Parish’s incident is not isolated. Anne Marie-Trevelyan claims that many male MPs in Westminster behave as though they were “God’s gift to women,” claiming female experiences of suffering sexual misconduct in the Commons are commonplace, with Parish’s case reflecting this described sense of entitlement in the Commons. Furthermore, in 2008, while under investigation for other allegations of sexual harassment, Damian Green, MP for Ashford since 1997, and First Secretary of State under Theresa May, was alleged to have pornography on the computer in his office. Despite Bob Quick, the police detective computer forensics expert responsible for examining the computer in question, claiming: “The computer was in Mr Green’s office, on his desk, logged in, his account, his name… it was ridiculous to suggest anybody else could have done it,” Green still insisted that such claims were ‘political smears’. Thus, it is hard to consider Parish’s actions as an outlying ‘moment of madness’, in Westminster’s seemingly embedded culture of misogyny among many MPs.
The cases of Green and Parish are similar not only in the sense of both having viewed pornography at work, but also in their apparent belief in immunity from accountability. Though, unlike Green, Parish did ultimately confess to his actions, his confession was hardly forthcoming. There was a three-day gap between accusations of an MP watching adult material in the Commons and Parish’s identification as the culprit, in which time he went on GB News to audaciously encourage an investigation into who the guilty ‘anonymous MP’ was. In doing so, Parish allowed his colleagues to be investigated for his crime in the silent knowledge of his own guilt, evidently in the assumption that either he would not be caught, or if he was, face little to no accountability for his obscene actions. In this respect, Parish’s case is similar not only to Green’s, but to the Prime Minister’s actions in the aftermath of the ’party gate’ scandal, whereby he was found to have broken his own lockdown laws and hosted multiple ‘parties’ in Downing Street. Both publicly welcomed investigations into their own actions instead of admitting their guilt, which is demonstrative of how widespread the belief of exception from accountability, both from the very front to the back benches, and across a range of forms of parliamentary misconduct.
This inherently raises questions over the best way to remove this belief of political invincibility which is currently present. Sky News political correspondent Rob Powell’s analysis of Trevelyan’s aforementioned claim suggested that the lack of real disciplinary measures present in parliament appears to almost encourage MPs’ ‘wandering hands’, questioning “If you’re an MP, who’s your boss?” The framing of his question means he only addresses part of the problem with parliamentary misogyny. Powell is insightful in recognising the neglectful impact that the absence of having a more direct chain of command, and all of the inherent increases in disciplinary observations this entails has on parliamentary conduct, and also acknowledging this element of disconnect between the Commons’ and more ‘regular’ employment structures. However, considering why the pre-existing disciplinary structures are so reluctant to discipline such conduct may be more constructive than his implied assumption that the answer lies purely in greater supervision of individual MPs. For example, considering why the Tory whips took more than 48 hours to suspend Parish after a female MP and parliamentary aide had identified him, and address at the root why they felt it better to continue to institutionalise such behaviour than expel it.
Powell’s view even appears to reflect a wider expectation that such behaviour in parliament is inevitable, as is reflected in many answers given by MPs in Westminster to questions surrounding the toxicity of the Commons’ culture. For example, in an interview with Ben Wallace, Secretary of State for Defence, on the topic of Parish’s resignation and the parliamentary culture of sexual misconduct, he stated: “We all know what happens when you mix long hours, drink, and pressure environment.” This comment entails a crucial shift in where the blame lies for such problems, as Wallace appears to suggest that, a combination of hard work and alcohol makes sexual misconduct inexorable, and that male MPs are unable to control themselves if both apply. While a majority of the electorate would almost certainly prefer and expect less frequent mixing of alcohol and national policymaking, it is difficult to see how fewer pints and earlier sitting times would remove the institutionalised extent of unprofessionalism, misogyny, and sexual misconduct present. Such a viewpoint only accentuates the lack of accountability that is plainly so rife in Westminster, by suggesting that the inappropriate actions of MPs such as Parish and Green were the inevitable products of a hard-working, alcohol-driven environment, and further demonstrates the extent to which the normalisation of misogyny has become embedded in Westminster’s culture.
To conclude, it is apparent that the Parish incident is clearly one of multiple ‘moments of madness’ continuing to occur in Westminster, which when considered in the broader light of wider sexual-misconduct allegations, the ‘party gate’ scandal, and the internal reaction to these events, would all suggest that Parish’s actions part of a wider culture of misogyny and lack of accountability, the ultimate evidence of which lies in an MP feeling sufficiently comfortable to watch pornography while waiting to vote in the Commons chamber, and the subsequent initial refusal to identify him, both by Parish and his whips for days after allegations of his actions emerged.