James Kirkup

Despite – or perhaps because of – the fact that I’ve spent most of my adult life writing and talking about politics and politicians, there are still things about politics that I just cannot, on a fundamental level, understand. Top of the list is tribalism, the “my party right or wrong” stuff that reduces public policy to the level of football chants. (Yes, football is another thing I don’t get. Surprising, I know.) Apart from anything else, taking the view that the people and ideas of the other side are automatically bad is surely utterly self-defeating? Politics is about persuading the greatest number of people to agree and support you, whether at elections or during day-to-day governing.

MPs have been talking about gender and sex and the law. This is a good thing. That’s the job Parliament is there to do, after all: debate complicated, contested issues in order to decide how and if to make laws, and to make sure the country is a place where differing views and arguments can be tested. So well done to David T.C. Davies, who brought about today’s debate in Westminster Hall, and well done too to MPs such as Layla Moran, Hannah Bardell and Lilian Greenwood who took part in the debate. Some of the things that were said in the debate were sensible and thoughtful, some were not. But in a sense, that doesn’t matter; the same is true of all parliamentary debates, which are inevitably a mixture of insight and cobblers.

Many things about the politics of Brexit are mystifying. Some are minor puzzles: Why don’t people read the documents they say they’re angry about, for instance? And some are major enigmas: Why don’t politicians talk about the economic and social problems that drove the Leave vote instead of fixating on misunderstood abstractions like sovereignty? Yet here we are, staggering into the 'endgame' of the most consequential negotiations in our postwar history and the debate has come down to a pair of Old Etonians talking about vassalage. I wonder how many people of Sunderland thought that’s what they were voting for in June 2016.

Tracey Crouch has resigned as a minister at the Department of Culture, Media and Sport, over the Government’s handling of reforms to the rules around fixed-odds betting terminals. I don’t know much about the policy or the events that preceded this, but I know enough about Tracey Crouch to be confident that this is exactly what it seems to be: a minister resigning on point of principle because she could no longer defend the Government’s position on an important issue. If that sounds unusual and perhaps even a bit old-fashioned (politicians don’t do that sort of thing these days, do they?

What are MPs thinking? It’s easy to assume, in the age of Twitter, that we know more about the positions our politicians take than ever before: quite a few of them, after all, spend rather too much time online telling us what they think about stuff. That has changed political journalism, but not always to the improvement of public understanding of politics. Journalism-by-Twitter, after all, runs the risk of missing  the thoughts and opinions that MPs don’t put online. One of the issues that most MPs don’t tweet about is trangenderism and the laws and rules around gender. Indeed, that’s one of the reasons I write so much about those things here.

Your 13-year-old daughter tells a teacher that’s she’s uncomfortable with her body. She prefers trousers to skirts, football to ballet. She says she thinks she’s a he and wants to be treated as a boy at school. Would the teacher tell you your daughter wants to change gender? Your 11-year-old granddaughter comes home from school upset. Changing after gym, another girl stood watching her undress and playing with her penis. (The girl in question is transgender, so yes, she has a penis.) When your family complains to the school, what happens? In the first case, no, the teacher wouldn’t tell you.

As so often these days, if you want real political insight, go to Mumsnet. In a web chat there today, John McDonnell has offered extensive proof that – whatever you think of his politics and policies – he is an extremely professional and skilful political communicator. Mumsnet, as Gordon Brown, Nick Clegg and countless others will remember, is about the toughest gig out there: you’re faced with a bombardment of questions ranging from traditional political analysis to deeply personal issues and of course humour, much of it biscuit-related. Striking the right tone is very, very hard. These days, Mumsnet is even harder for politicians because an awful lot of users there are (quite reasonably) very angry with politicians over transgender issues.