Tributes to Jo Cox

Stephen Doughty Excerpts

Monday 20th June 2016 Commons Chamber

[Stephen Doughty (Cardiff South and Penarth) (Lab/Co-op)]

In a tale of another Yorkshire tragedy that led to action and hope in the midst of sadness, we are told:

“The flowers of Yorkshire are like the women of Yorkshire. Every stage of their growth has its own beauty, but the last phase is always the most glorious.”

And it was glorious, Jo.

I was in awe of Jo. To be honest, I was always a bit envious. She was energetic, brave, dynamic, fit, beautiful and passionate. I cannot ever recall seeing her sad, negative or without hope. She once told me, in a one-to-one meeting as my manager at Oxfam, that she did not do touchy-feely, that I was being too emotional, that we needed to “get on with it” and sort out the campaign we were working on.

Jo believed in building bridges. She was fiercely Labour to her core, but when we thought our party was on the way out of government, she knew there were bigger things at stake. We had to reach out to others: we had to convince them of the case for tackling global poverty and for standing up for civilians in conflict and crisis and for women and girls. She was never satisfied with platitudes. She wanted action. We have all been overwhelmed over the last few days with just how many lives she touched, from the refugee camps of Darfur to the mountains of Pakistan, but she was not some do-gooder jetting in to hand out alms. She wanted to know why, who was responsible and what we could do about it.

Jo had a remarkable mind and an incredible ability to multi-task. I once met her to go to lobby some very senior officials in the Foreign Office about various crises. She turned up, typically, in a rush with her climbing kit hanging out of her bag. We sat on the floor in King Charles Street, where she then jumped straight into reading a briefing. She knew exactly what the key points were within minutes and then delivered the crucial information to the decision makers with utter confidence and assuredness. It was brilliant. That brilliance was universally felt by all those she worked with. Moira described her as a

“fearless, compassionate professional with such an impish streak.”

Vicky said that Jo had smarts and spirit. Conor, who worked closely with her, said that she taught him

“how to get stuff done … with passion and professionalism”.

Our friend Ben, who spent a famous night on a mountain with her in Pakistani Kashmir, reminded our friends in recent days that everyone assumes that in NGOs people must all be really kind. He said:

“But the truth is we are not ... we can be vain, arrogant and mean… not Jo. Not just did everyone like Jo. More impressively Jo liked everyone. She was furious at injustice … but saw no one as a permanent enemy, and everyone as a potential ally.”

Though Jo was kind, she was a steely edged campaigner. Our friend and colleague Phil Bloomer said that she was

“one of the most kind, caring and committed people I have had the privilege to know … but she could also make herself a right royal pain in the back-side if she profoundly disagreed with you: a lesson many political leaders learnt too late, and to their cost.”

He reflected on Jo’s years influencing Peter Mandelson when she headed Oxfam’s Brussels office at a young age. He had to quickly adapt his approach. But most of all, Phil hit the mark. He said:

“Jo loved justice ... Jo loved Love”.

Adrian, our friend, told me of the time he saw Jo just a few months ago over a sandwich. He told me that he

“saw again the bravery and determination as she figured out how to hold feet to the fire—in her own party as well as her opponents—over Syria and the good we failed to do.”

Our close mutual friend and campaigner Kirsty summed Jo up perfectly for me. She said that Jo

“never just asked ‘what do you think?’ always ‘what should we do’. This is what we should do. Act. Love. Unite.”

That was the Jo I knew. Kind, caring, passionate, principled, thoughtful—an intellect, but most of all focused on doing for others, not just being for ourselves.