The 'wonderful' life of Sir David Amess – a friend and human rights campaigner pays tribute

When I first heard the news of the knife attack on Sir David Amess MP, I was in St Andrew’s in Scotland, preparing to leave my hotel, having spoken in a debate on UK relations with China at the university debating society the night before. Shocked, I emailed and messaged friends – and urged them to pray. By the time I got on the train to London half an hour or so later, news broke that he had died. My eyes filled with tears. I had known David Amess for about 26 years.

I first met David when he came at my invitation to speak to the Conservative Students at Royal Holloway, University of London, which I chaired. I had just been banned from the Student Union on completely fabricated charges designed specifically to prevent me from running for Student Union president. Upon hearing this in conversation, David was outraged and demanded to visit the Student Union building.  He said he just wanted to get a first-hand feel for the institution that had banned me.

It was a Friday night, so after the Conservative Students reception ended, a group of us trouped off to the Student Union to give him a tour. I had to remain outside, while my friends took him in to the throbbing disco and crowded bar. After a quarter of an hour or so they emerged. I am not sure if he was any more enlightened as a result of the visit about the reasons for the injustice that had befallen me, but he said he had found the opportunity to mingle with undergraduates on the dance floor an educational experience.

That was so David. Always up for engaging people, of whatever persuasion; always up for seeing things first-hand; always up for going to the frontlines of society. 

As a result of that night, we formed a bond. I helped in his campaign in Southend West in the General Election of 1997. I went several times to Leigh-on-Sea, the town where he was murdered on Friday, and knocked on doors and delivered leaflets. 

Ever since then, we worked together often on different international human rights issues. I brought North Korean escapees to meet him, we discussed human rights in China, we collaborated on Hong Kong and we compared notes on the Maldives. He served on the board of reference of the human rights group CSW, which I have worked with in various capacities for almost as long as I have known him. When Myanmar’s Cardinal Charles Bo (who inspired and received me into the Church in 2013) visited the UK a few years ago as a guest of CSW, Missio, Aid to the Church in Need and the Catholic Bishops Conference, David attended our reception in Speaker’s House, and was always a supporter of our work in Myanmar.

Over the past two decades or so we met periodically, sometimes for a specific cause, sometimes just to catch up. And my experience of him matches precisely what everyone else who knew him has said about him: I remember him for his humour, his smile, his vivaciousness, his kindness. There was an eccentricity, a cheekiness and a sense of fun about him that was unique, but it was mixed with a profound sense of public service and commitment to helping people. As others have said, he never took himself too seriously, but he always took the issues he engaged with very seriously indeed.

In addition to being in ally in the international human rights causes I pursue – and especially the cause of freedom of religion or belief – David was a persistent encourager of my own political prospects. Every time I sat down with him, or bumped into him in the street, his first question was always: “Have you got a seat yet?” When I told him I had not, he was outraged. “The Conservative Party should be fast-tracking you into a seat – they don’t know what they’re missing,” he would say. “I’ll talk to Conservative Party headquarters.” I never got a winnable seat, but his encouragement always made me feel good. 

David’s parliamentary office was like no other MP’s that I have ever been in. Inherited from Ann Widdecombe, his Parliament Street room was dominated by a huge fish tank, surrounded by pictures of Margaret Thatcher. After he was knighted in 2015, his office door was covered with a coat of armour. I always knew that a meeting with David would never be dull.

A devout Catholic, David was passionately pro-life and stood up against new orthodoxies where they were at odds with his faith and values. As such, he won affection and admiration from people across the board, whether they agreed with him or not. People respected him for being a man of convictions, not someone who would simply follow the party machine to climb the greasy pole. Indeed, he never did climb the ministerial ladder, but instead developed a vocation over almost 40 years as one of the best parliamentarians, who pursued legislation in support of causes he championed, and served his constituents with devotion and hard work. 

Just ten days before his murder, I bought David’s new book – his memoirs, titled Ayes and Ears – at the Conservative Party Conference. About a week before he was killed, I emailed him about a China human rights matter and to suggest we catch up some time. I was looking forward to him signing my copy of his book. It was not to be.

As the tributes from people across the political spectrum show, David was much loved by many. And for entirely the same reasons. He was one of a kind, who was fun to be around, kind to everyone, made you smile and was an extraordinarily dedicated public servant. He died doing what he loved and what is at the heart of every MP’s job: meeting constituents and trying to help them. 

When Jo Cox was murdered just over five years ago, I wrote a tribute to her. I never knew her in person, but we shared many causes, and friends, in common. In so many ways David and Jo were very different from each other. But they had two things very much in common: a commitment to the common good and a conviction that transcended their party machines. Their shared humanity is even more apparent after their tragic murders. And their respective murders are not only a tragedy for their families, though they are that first and foremost – but they are also a direct assault on our democracy and way of life. The contact between an MP and their constituent is at the heart of our democracy. To make that more difficult, put it in jeopardy, by threatening the lives of elected representatives is extremely dangerous and utterly heartbreaking. We must find a way to ensure MPs’ security without cutting them off from the people they represent.

David Amess will be remembered not only for the horrific way he died, but more importantly for the wonderful way he lived. His smile will live on and inspire us to pursue causes dear to us and serve our communities. And that’s what he would have wanted.

Benedict Rogers is the co-founder and Chief Executive of Hong Kong Watch, Deputy Chair of the Conservative Party Human Rights Commission and Senior Analyst for East Asia at CSW.