I WAS 20 years old when I decided that I wanted to devote my life to politics. For me that didn’t just mean having the ambition to be elected one day as an MP; it meant wanting to make a contribution to the benefit of my country.

That sounds pompous, doesn’t it? I agree, it does. But it was and is true, so I don’t care.

The men and women I work with, people from different parties, are some of the best individuals I’ve ever had the privilege to meet or work with. Some of those people, the ones I describe as among the “best”, were fingered in the Great Expenses Scandal of ‘09. Nevertheless, my and others’ respect and liking for them remains. Many who were caught up in that exposé have decided to call it a day at the next election, as have many others who emerged from the episode relatively or entirely unscathed.

That is a matter of great regret, for me as well as, I suspect, for them. The House of Commons is not a den of thieves, of “troughers”, to use one of the less imaginative and attractive epithets in common usage. I can put it no better than Tony Blair did in his last appearance at the despatch box on 27 June, 2007:

Some may belittle politics but we who are engaged in it know that it is where people stand tall. Although I know that it has many harsh contentions, it is still the arena that sets the heart beating a little faster. If it is, on occasions, the place of low skulduggery, it is more often the place for the pursuit of noble causes.

Those comments, of course, were made before this year’s expenses scandal. I wonder if Tony would still have made them if the scandal had come first? I hope he would have, because they are as true today as they ever have been.

There is no shortage of those who want to disparage politicians and politics. They are wrong. But it is difficult to make a case for politics in the current climate. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t.

Because politics is a noble and honourable pursuit. It was so at other times in our history when the public and the media held us in contempt. As I’m fond of reminding interviewers, when the Houses of Parliament burned to the ground in 1834, a crowd gathered on the other side of the Thames and cheered. Colleagues who fret that public esteem of politicians is at a dangerous low should bear in mind that, although it’s necessary to try to improve public opinion, they should manage their expectations; politicians have always been despised. We will always be despised. Sometimes the degree of contempt waxes and wanes throughout the years and through events. But we will never be loved. That is not why we’re in public life.

We are in public life because, as I said at the start, we want to make a contribution to the benefit of our country, to the condition of our fellow citizens. Every single MP I know does that in his or her working life every week; we communicate, we ask questions (of our constituents as well as of ministers), we lobby on behalf of the people we represent, and, on far more occasions than we’re ever credited for, we help people. We make a positive difference. We do good, and we work hard doing it.

Those are the realities of life as an MP. We’re not saints, nor should we be. Neither are we villains. We’re ordinary people who have been given an extraordinary opportunity.

There have been points in recent weeks when MPs have felt less than proud of our vocation (or profession, if you prefer). I’ve even felt the need to apologise to those who ask me what I do for a living. And I was wrong, because there is no reason to apologise for the fact of being an MP, of being chosen by your party and then your constituents to perform an important job.

One colleague, the day before the House rose for the recess, asked some of us, in all seriousness, how we would respond if asked by people we might might meet on holiday what we do for a living. It was his genuine concern about the anticipated negative reactions to his mumbled, apologetic confession of “I’m an MP” that inspired me to write this post. Because my colleague is a good guy. He should be proud of who he is and what he does.

I will never again be reluctant to advise young people in my local schools to go into politics. If you want to make that difference in people’s lives, in the life of our nation, there’s no better way — there’s no alternative, in fact — to taking a deep breath, holding your nose (if you feel you must) and taking the plunge into party politics. I will, however, advise them to avoid it unless they know they can develop a thick skin.

There. That’s what I think. I should have said it long ago. Do your worst.