I think of Frank Field in Birkenhead, the constituency he served with distinction between 1979 and 2019. In 1989, in a pub by Hamilton Square, where Frank lived, a member of the far-left Socialist Organiser began to harangue him. The group had deselected Frank as Birkenhead’s Labour candidate, prompting Neil Kinnock’s office to order that the corrupt process be rerun. This activist was angry, and it seemed I was the only thing standing between a rather meek MP and physical pain. Whereupon a group of refuse collectors, drinking at the next table, stood as one and, in complete silence, encircled Frank to protect him.
Frank Field had given me my break, and in my first job in Birkenhead I saw the two sides of the Labour Party: a majority of good people blighted by a hostile, ideologically intoxicated minority. In a long career in public service, Field has stood for goodness in politics. He has embodied both the virtues and the flaws of deep moral commitment in a practical art. That career is sadly now in its final chapter because Frank has announced he is dying.
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