The Commons, still sensitive about the "sleaze'' scandals that dogged the Major administration, was anxious to be seen to clean up its act. Under the new self-policing procedure introduced on the advice of the Nolan inquiry into parliamentary standards, Mrs Filkin was the second Commissioner. Her predecessor, Sir Gordon Downey, was a quiet, courteous figure respected by MPs but, while no pushover, not renowned for fierce interrogations. He was also low profile and little known, even in the Palace of Westminster.Mrs Filkin has many of Sir Gordon's qualities.
She is considerate, intellectually rigorous, measured and softly spoken. But she is more of a terrier, less respectful of MPs (she will say she is not, but she is), less inclined to take them at their word. She is also confident in dealing with the press, and enjoys sparring with journalists.And she is a woman. It is hard to judge how much of her predicament stems from her gender.
The Commons is a deeply sexist place; in the bars, tea rooms and cafeterias where predominantly male MPs gather, powerful and decisive men are heroes and powerful, decisive women are bitches. Self-important men do not take kindly to being hauled over the coals by a woman They can't bully her, can't treat her as they would a man. An old-fashioned courtesy tells them to bite their lip, to comply. All the time they are seething, their macho pride deeply wounded.Something like this has undoubtedly occurred in the Commons. MPs will not admit it, but there is no doubt her sex has not helped. Mrs Filkin has succeeded, where Sir Gordon did not, in antagonising a large body of MPs. "She's more thorough than Gordon Downey but Downey had something she hasn't got – political nous,'' said one former member of the Standards and Privileges Committee.A curious loyalty binds MPs together.
