Jo Cox is not the first MP to be murdered, only the most recent. Her murder was shocking, almost unbelievable. Until I thought back a bit.
While my own MP, hunger striker Bobby Sands, was dying I was learning in school about Spencer Perceval, the Prime Minister murdered in Westminster. I saw the plaque marking the spot on my day trip to that there London last year.
I remembered Airey Neave, but I forgot Robert Bradford, Anthony Berry and Ian Gow. Lost in the thousands of deaths from the ‘Troubles’. I forgot them because they were people I didn’t know. I may have thought them old if I thought of them at all. I was young, finding a life, and political murder was commonplace.
I’m not proud of this. Democratically elected people died, working for us all, and I simply forgot. Did I really not care? Did I consider that I hadn’t killed them, I didn’t support those who did, and so it was nothing to do with me?
Politicians are younger than me now, and are not anonymous men in grey suits. They are people doing the job we asked them to do. It is no surprise that I don’t agree with all of them, but that’s a different thing- that’s part of the process. If I wanted to kill all the people I disagree with, I’d be a psychopath & mass murderer. And I’m not. Yet.
Brendan Cox made a remarkable statement last evening:
She would have wanted two things above all else to happen now. One, that our precious children are bathed in love, and two, that we all unite to fight against the hatred that killed her. Hate doesn’t have a creed, race or religion – it is poisonous.
Jo believed in a better world and she fought for it every day of her life with an energy and a zest for life that would exhaust most people. Jo would have no regrets about her life. She lived every day of it to the full.
I don’t want to forget Jo Cox. We should not forget Jo Cox. Nor should I have forgetten Airey Neave, Robert Bradford, Anthony Berry, or Ian Gow. Sorry, chaps.
Go, bloggy buddies, and live every day to the full.