I had exposure to local politics from an early age, when my father, Brian, sat on St Peter Port Douzaine. He was subsequently selected as a parish representative to sit in the then 57-member States Assembly.
My observations from that time were of a role serving the public in a very hands-on manner, with the odd paper Billet arriving in the post, and more often than not an early evening phone call from parishioners. Many more of them dropped in for a chat or discussed the issue of the day while being measured up in the family businesses in Fountain Street and I thought I had gained a good perception of local politics and knew what to expect.
Fast forward to my immediate expectations when I declared my intention to stand for election in August 2020. Having also served a form of probation by sitting on St Peter Port Douzaine for a full four-year term, I knew my way around a Billet and the discussions expected on it. I also expected this type of civility, healthy debate and collaboration, open communication and cajoling to extend to the Assembly. Indeed I had seen some of it displayed while sitting in the public gallery in the last States term.
I was confident that the job would be different, though, and not the usual 9-5, which was one of the many reasons why I stood – to better serve the public and not just be an ‘office job’.
It is a definitely a full-time job and more on occasions. I gave up employment to be a States member, and in my mind, it is essential that a candidate goes into the role with their eyes fully wide open. This role cannot be carried out at the level expected while in other employment.
I also knew that committee work would add to the interesting nature of the role and offer variety, as designing or amending policy to guide operational delivery was very much removed from the operational roles I had previously occupied during my time in the civil service and private sector.
What I didn’t expect was that the committee papers supporting weekly meetings would involve hours and hours of reading. I knew that reading the Billet ahead of debates would take up some time, but not as much as the committee work.
Some people may think that deputies sit in Sir Charles Frossard House while they are doing all this reading and States meeting preparation, collaborating with each other around the water cooler or coffee machine. In my view, nothing could be further from the truth. I rarely see my colleagues from one States meeting to the next, unless at a pre-arranged briefing or third-sector launch.
Most of my time is spent reading at home and drafting speeches or questions for when I’m sitting in the States, while balancing other commitments, including requests from members of the public which can be either very specific around a current issue or more general.
I’d feel really confident that I had interpreted the Billet and prepared a speech through hours of research which would get my points across and then, during the States meeting as I stood diligently in my place waiting for the Bailiff to call me to speak, other members would speak before me and make points which matched my thoughts in full or in part. Rather than reiterate their points, I’d sit back down, knowing with a mixed sense of frustration and validation that my ideas and values were strong enough to inspire others and to be successfully replicated. I suppose that is recognition of the quality and impact of our joint values. On occasion this can feel isolating, especially for an outgoing character whose previous work environment had mainly been interacting with colleagues or customers.
All that aside, though, this is the most enjoyable role I’ve ever had. It gives me satisfaction while contributing to our island, which is borne out of a sense of duty and pride in our island.
What I expected, but sadly it has not materialised, is contact about local parish-type issues, as unfortunately island-wide voting has killed this off. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of phone calls I’ve personally received about issues, whereas at times we have been inundated by messages sent to the ‘all deputies’ group email address. This blanket email approach from members of the public often results in either numerous similar responses or very few, depending on the question’s specificity or committee direction. Poor email etiquette, such as some deputies ‘replying all’, was another unexpected challenge and tends to clog the inbox.
I also didn’t expect that many of the interactions would be about knowledge sharing and signposting. Some members of the public are virtually at the end of their tether with an issue affecting them or their family, and putting them in touch with the correct sections of the vast civil service or third-sector support can be very rewarding. These type of cases sometimes require a very simple solution which allows people access to services they didn’t know existed. Of course, others can be much more complex and convoluted, but all the same rewarding, knowing that you are assisting in some way even by listening or by being a supportive friend in meetings or interactions.
The life of a people’s deputy certainly isn’t always the same or predictable, and the work embraces a number of roles. These include parliamentarian, legislator and community figure. Many people, no matter what interaction you have with them, will either know that you are a deputy or soon discover this, which can then lead to a discussion and on occasion healthy debate about the issue of the day. I really enjoy and welcome these interactions, but it can make a trip to the supermarket or garden centre a lengthy one. Once elected, always buy ice cream at the last minute when at the supermarket, otherwise it is likely to be melting in your trolley while you are chatting away.
I remember a quick trip to buy groceries turning into an hour-long discussion with a small-business owner about roadwork disruption and the policies in place to ensure collaboration and coordination. I always welcome this type of interaction – they are part of being a people’s deputy.
Being a States member is all-encompassing and, as policy makers and legislators, far reaching. What I hadn’t appreciated, though, was the impact on my direct and indirect family members. On occasion, when a difficult issue has been debated and you have voted one way or another, your decision will have a trickle-down effect on your partner, parents or children, merely by their association with you. Often the attention on social media can be upsetting to some family members. In this role you’re expected to have a thick skin – we are, after all, put in these positions to make difficult decisions for the island. I didn’t expect that they would be impacted to the extent they are, however I’m lucky in that I have a supportive and understanding family and in the main they agree with my decisions and voting pattern and, if not, they understand my reasoning.
If re-elected, I would encourage partners of States members to get together to share each other’s thoughts and support each other in their strange club by association. I’m also lucky that most of my peers and friends, even if they don’t agree with a decision made, understand that we all need to de-stress and wind down over our mutual friendship.
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