Thank you, Madam Chair. It is an honour to make my maiden speech during the passage of such a landmark piece of legislation and one that is very much long overdue. It delivers on our promise at the election of real change, and every one of us here is proud to represent it.
It is also an honour to follow my hon. Friends the Members for Sheffield Central (Abtisam Mohamed) and for Shrewsbury (Julia Buckley) and the hon. Member for Lagan Valley (Sorcha Eastwood), who made such moving and powerful speeches. They are a real tribute to this historic 2024 intake. They show up the excellence and diversity of our intake.
In a maiden speech, it is customary to pay tribute to one’s predecessors. I sincerely thank George Galloway for his career of public service. I wish to pay tribute to the late Sir Tony Lloyd, a man who commanded respect across this Chamber and whose decency, internationalism and compassion are an example to each one of us. As Tony once advised his staffer, now my hon. Friend the Member for Blackpool South (Chris Webb):
“If it is not about making people’s lives better, don’t be a politician.
Rochdale certainly has a long history of making people’s lives better and of strong links to this Palace of Westminster. Indeed, it was a Rochdale lass, 15-year-old Emily Kelsall, who, in 1843, laid the foundation stone of the Elizabeth Tower that houses Big Ben. The Kelsalls were close friends of another of my predecessors, the great parliamentarian Richard Cobden and his ally, John Bright, who famously described England as the mother of Parliaments.
Cobden and Bright, one a Rochdalian by adoption and one a Rochdalian by birth, were two Rochdale radicals who campaigned as vigorously against slavery as they did for cheaper food through the abolition of the corn laws and for a wider franchise. Another Rochdalian who was friends with Cobden and Bright was the Lancashire dialect poet Edwin Waugh, after whom my youngest son, Eddie, who is in the Gallery, is named. Waugh captured the beauty of the
“hill and hillock, knoll and dell”,
and the moors and brooks of my Pennine constituency. From Blackstone Edge to Hollingworth lake, from Healey Dell to the landscaped gardens of our magnificent town hall, there is greenery and beauty throughout our town and its villages of Littleborough, Wardle, Milnrow and Newhey.
The Pennine way cuts through my seat, yet our Pennine way is more than just the well-loved footpath; it is a way of doing things, too. Our Pennine way is one of community,
co-operation, self-help and resilience. Ever since the Rochdale Pioneers set up shop in 1844 to sell affordable basics like butter, sugar and flour, we have been proud to be the birthplace of a global co-operative moment, and I am proud to be the first Labour and Co-operative MP in our town’s history.
That sense of co-operation and community has been enhanced by the currents of migration that have flowed through our town as steadily as the River Roch itself. Scots, like my own Waugh clan, the Irish, Italians, Ukrainians, Poles, Pakistanis, Kashmiris, Bangladeshis, Nigerians—we even welcome the occasional Yorkshireman —have all staffed our factories and our NHS and created new family businesses. All are proud Rochdalians. Just as our town has shown real resilience in the face of economic downturns and Government cuts, our community cohesion has proved resilient, too—despite the provocations of extremists on all sides.
As well as radicalism and resilience, our town’s story is a story of renewal. Many of our mills have closed, but there is still a strong sense of industry, of hard work, of grafters, of entrepreneurs, of people who put something back into the town that raised them. There are people like Richard Tang, whose Zen Internet started as a small, home-based business, but is now a major network provider and our biggest private sector employer. There are people like Sir Peter Ogden, who founded Computacenter and this year invested millions into my beloved Rochdale AFC—up the Dale—in recognition of its role as a hub of our community.
From the brass bands of Milnrow to the rock and folk music of Feel Good festival, our arts are thriving too. Rochdale sixth-form college is one of the highest achieving in the country. Our armed forces veterans support groups are superb. Springhill hospice is a beacon of excellence, and the Oasis ward at Rochdale infirmary is a national model in dementia care.
My own journey from Rochdale to this place was made possible only by an enabling state: a fantastic teacher, John Williams, who spotted the potential in me and my twin brother, Mark; a council house that gave me the stability and affordability that many families sadly lack today; and free school meals that meant we could focus on learning, not earning. As a former chairman of the Lobby, it would be remiss of me not to also mention the role that my parliamentary journalism has played in propelling me on to these Benches—and I would like to dispel the vicious rumour that the main reason I stood for Parliament was to guarantee five more years of jerk chicken.
The phrase “Westminster village” is often used as an insult, but this place really is a village, in the best sense of the word: a community of more than 3,000 people from all walks of life, making sure that this is an open and accessible people’s House, not the preserve of an elite. For 26 years, I have had the pleasure of working in this building, with its fabulous canteen staff like Betty, Rita, Daphne, Terry and Godfrey, the Doorkeepers like Adrian, the security staff like Saeed, the many Clerks and officials, and of course, the police. I will never forget the day when we lost our own “village policeman”, PC Keith Palmer, in the terror attack of 2017. It has been my pleasure to work with my Lobby colleagues and with MPs of all parties, and I would like to reassure all the Tory leadership contenders: don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me.
Politicians and journalists have more in common than either would like to admit. At their best, both are honourable trades—and they are trades; they are not professions—but the big difference between us is the difference between criticism and action, between commentary and doing. In the end, I could no longer just write about the appalling state of our public services; I wanted to do something about it. I wanted to do something about the NHS workers like my wife, who came home every night exhausted by a sheer lack of staff. I wanted to do something about all those working-class kids like me whose destinies are still too often determined by their postcode, not by their potential.
I also wanted to do something about this misinformation age that we live in, and to combat the rise of extremism that disfigures too much of our discourse. It was Stanley Baldwin who denounced the newspaper barons for wanting power without responsibility; today, too many social media companies have exactly that. This summer’s spread of online hate and falsehood is a challenge to which this Government will have to rise, just as they rose to the challenge of cracking down on the thugs who attacked our communities and our brave police officers. Tackling online publishers—that is what they are: publishers, not platforms—may sound radical, but in reality radicalism is often just common sense ahead of its time, a reminder that all our rights are hard won. What could be more commonsensical than demanding that the vote be given to the working classes and to women, more than 100 years ago? What could be more commonsensical than this railways Bill, giving the public control over the services that spend billions of pounds of their own money? What could be more commonsensical than tackling climate change or giving towns like Rochdale more control over their own future—towns that do not want a handout, but deserve a fairer share of the national resource?
The Pennines are famously the backbone of England, but the people of Rochdale are the backbone of England too. Common-sense radicalism, resilience and renewal—those are the watchwords of my home town, of this country and of this Government, and I will do my utmost to live up to them.