The murder of Sir David Amess will change the nature of British democracy

SIR DAVID AMESS was the quintessential local MP. When party whips whispered that he might become a minister if he voted the right way, he laughed. When his invitation to the Leigh Duck Race, where the local scout group ceremonially released hundreds of rubber ducks, went missing, his staff turned his office upside down. His relentless campaign to have Southend-on-Sea, the town in his constituency, recognised as a city is the stuff of parliamentary legend.

It was while attending a constituency surgery, where MPs meet locals to hear their problems, that he was stabbed to death on October 15th, in an apparent Islamist terrorist attack. The murder was the latest in a grim series. Jo Cox, MP for Batley and Spen, was killed on her way to a surgery by a far-right extremist in 2016. Stephen Timms, MP for East Ham, was stabbed at one in 2010. Nigel Jones, MP for Cheltenham, was attacked at one in 2000. His assistant, Andrew Pennington, died protecting him.

Speeches in the House of Commons attract more attention, but all MPs have a second job akin to that of a social worker: supporting asylum claims, dealing with benefit enquiries, looking into anti-social behaviour and so on. When the system works, the latter informs the former. Appalled by the death of an elderly constituent who died in a cold house, Sir David introduced legislation to tackle fuel poverty. Campaigns he ran to ban the cruel tethering of animals and to raise awareness of endometriosis also sprung from local concerns.

The constituency surgery is at the heart of this job. It is up to MPs to decide how to arrange them: some insist that people book in advance; others, like Sir David, prefer to be more relaxed, allowing anyone to drop by. Yet this sort of openness is becoming difficult to maintain. The majority of MPs report facing “aggressive or intrusive” behaviour as part of their job. After Ms Cox’s murder, parliamentarians were advised by police to screen appointments more carefully and to avoid meeting constituents on their own. Spending on security, such as CCTV and alarm buttons, has risen.

Priti Patel, the home secretary, has now asked police to review MPs’ security arrangements, to see whether more can be done to protect them. The National Police Chiefs Council will contact every MP to discuss security precautions. Many are resistant to anything that would put distance between them and their constituents. Jess Phillips, a Labour MP, said she would disregard measures that did: “You can’t put me behind a screen when I’m walking my kids to a café. I’m not the pope.”

But the direction of travel is clear. Tobias Ellwood, a Tory MP, has urged fellow parliamentarians to put face-to-face meetings on hold; Diane Abbott, a Labour one, has said she would prefer a screen. Necessary or not, it is a trend Sir David would have lamented. “We are advised to never see people alone, we must be extra careful when opening post and we must ensure our offices are properly safe and secure,” he wrote in a guide to life as a politician published last year. “In short, these increasing attacks have rather spoilt the great British tradition of people openly meeting their elected politicians.” After his murder in a Methodist church, meeting his constituents and hearing their problems, that tradition is under even greater threat.