Labour MPs for Trident

A list of the Labour MPs who voted 'yes' for Trident

Following are names of the 235 Labour MPs voted on 14 March in favour of an amendemnt to renew the Trident nuclear missile system.

Nick Ainger
Bob Ainsworth
Douglas Alexander
Graham Allen
David Anderson
Janet Anderson
Hilary Armstrong
Ian Austin
Adrian Bailey
Vera Baird
Edward Balls
Celia Barlow
Kevin Barron
John Battle
Margaret Beckett
Hilary Benn
Clive Betts
Liz Blackman
Roberta Blackman-Woods
Tony Blair
Hazel Blears
Bob Blizzard
David Blunkett
David Borrow
Ben Bradshaw
Kevin Brennan
Gordon Brown
Nick Brown
Russell Brown
Des Browne
Chris Bryant
Andy Burnham
Stephen Byers
Liam Byrne
Richard Caborn
David Cairns
Alan Campbell
Ian Cawsey
Ben Chapman
Paul Clark
Tom Clarke
David Clelland
Vernon Coaker
Ann Coffey
Rosie Cooper
Yvette Cooper
David Crausby
Mary Creagh
Jim Cunningham
Tony Cunningham
Claire Curtis-Thomas
Alistair Darling
Wayne David
John Denham
Parmjit Dhanda
Brian H Donohoe
Jim Dowd
Angela Eagle
Maria Eagle
Louise Ellman
Natascha Engel
Paul Farrelly
Frank Field
Jim Fitzpatrick
Robert Flello
Caroline Flint
Barbara Follett
Michael Foster
Hywel Francis
Mike Gapes
Barry Gardiner
Bruce George
Linda Gilroy
Paul Goggins
Helen Goodman
Andrew Gwynne
Peter Hain
Mike Hall
David Hanson
Harriet Harman
Tom Harris
John Healey
Doug Henderson
Mark Hendrick
Stephen Hepburn
John Heppell
Stephen Hesford
Patricia Hewitt
Keith Hill
Meg Hillier
Margaret Hodge
Sharon Hodgson
Geoff Hoon
Phil Hope
George Howarth
Kim Howells
Lindsay Hoyle
Beverley Hughes
Joan Humble
John Hutton
Brian Iddon
Eric Illsley
Adam Ingram
Huw Irranca-Davies
Brian Jenkins
Alan Johnson
Diana Johnson
Helen Jones
Kevan Jones
Martyn Jones
Tessa Jowell
Eric Joyce
Gerald Kaufman
Sally Keeble
Barbara Keeley
Alan Keen
Ann Keen
Ruth Kelly
Fraser Kemp
Jane Kennedy
Piara S Khabra
Sadiq Khan
David Kidney
Jim Knight
Ashok Kumar
Stephen Ladyman
David Lammy
Bob Laxton
Tom Levitt
Ivan Lewis
Martin Linton
Andrew Love
Ian Lucas
John MacDougall
Khalid Mahmood
Shahid Malik
John Mann
Rob Marris
Eric Martlew
Thomas McAvoy
Stephen McCabe
Kerry McCarthy
Sarah McCarthy-Fry
Ian McCartney
Siobhain McDonagh
Patrick McFadden
John McFall
Anne McGuire
Shona McIsaac
Rosemary McKenna
Tony McNulty
Gillian Merron
Alun Michael
Alan Milburn
David Miliband
Edward Miliband
Andrew Miller
Anne Moffat
Laura Moffatt
Chris Mole
Madeleine Moon
Elliot Morley
Kali Mountford
Meg Munn
Jim Murphy
Paul Murphy
Dan Norris
Mike O'Brien
Edward O'Hara
Bill Olner
Albert Owen
Nick Palmer
Ian Pearson
James Plaskitt
Greg Pope
Bridget Prentice
John Prescott
Dawn Primarolo
James Purnell
Bill Rammell
Nick Raynsford
Jamie Reed
John Reid
John Robertson
Geoffrey Robinson
Terry Rooney
Frank Roy
Christine Russell
Joan Ryan
Martin Salter
Alison Seabeck
Jonathan R Shaw
Barry Sheerman
Jim Sheridan
Siôn Simon
Andrew Slaughter
Angela Smith
Angela Smith
Jacqui Smith
John Smith
Anne Snelgrove
Helen Southworth
John Spellar
Phyllis Starkey
Howard Stoate
Jack Straw
Gisela Stuart
Gerry Sutcliffe
Mark Tami
Dari Taylor
Gareth Thomas
Stephen Timms
Paddy Tipping
Don Touhig
Neil Turner
Derek Twigg
Kitty Ussher
Keith Vaz
Lynda Waltho
Claire Ward
Tom Watson
Dave Watts
Malcolm Wicks
Alan Williams
Michael Wills
Rosie Winterton
Shaun Woodward
Phil Woolas
David Wright
Iain Wright
Tony Wright
Derek Wyatt

Hana Bieliauskas is a junior at Ohio University majoring in magazine journalism. She is currently studying in London.
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The age of loneliness

Profound changes in technology, work and community are transforming our ultrasocial species into a population of loners.

Our dominant ideology is based on a lie. A series of lies, in fact, but I’ll focus on just one. This is the claim that we are, above all else, self-interested – that we seek to enhance our own wealth and power with little regard for the impact on others.

Some economists use a term to describe this presumed state of being – Homo economicus, or self-maximising man. The concept was formulated, by J S Mill and others, as a thought experiment. Soon it became a modelling tool. Then it became an ideal. Then it evolved into a description of who we really are.

It could not be further from the truth. To study human behaviour is to become aware of how weird we are. Many species will go to great lengths to help and protect their close kin. One or two will show occasional altruism towards unrelated members of their kind. But no species possesses a capacity for general altruism that is anywhere close to our own.

With the possible exception of naked mole-rats, we have the most social minds of all mammals. These minds evolved as an essential means of survival. Slow, weak, armed with rounded teeth and flimsy nails in a world of fangs and claws and horns and tusks, we survived through co-operation, reciprocity and mutual defence, all of which developed to a remarkable degree.

A review paper in the journal Frontiers in Psychology observes that Homo economicus  might be a reasonable description of chimpanzees. “Outsiders . . . would not expect to receive offers of food or solicitude; rather, they would be fiercely attacked . . . food is shared only under harassment; even mothers will not voluntarily offer novel foods to their own infants unless the infants beg for them.” But it is an unreasonable description of human beings.

How many of your friends, colleagues and neighbours behave like chimpanzees? A few, perhaps. If so, are they respected or reviled? Some people do appear to act as if they have no interests but their own – Philip Green and Mike Ashley strike me as possible examples – but their behaviour ­attracts general revulsion. The news is filled with spectacular instances of human viciousness: although psychopaths are rare, their deeds fill the papers. Daily acts of kindness are seldom reported, because they are everywhere.

Every day, I see people helping others with luggage, offering to cede their place in a queue, giving money to the homeless, setting aside time for others, volunteering for causes that offer no material reward. Alongside these quotidian instances are extreme and stunning cases. I think of my Dutch mother-in-law, whose family took in a six-year-old Jewish boy – a stranger – and hid him in their house for two years during the German occupation of the Netherlands. Had he been discovered, they would all have been sent to a concentration camp.

Studies suggest that altruistic tendencies are innate: from the age of 14 months, children try to help each other, attempting to hand over objects another child can’t reach. At the age of two, they start to share valued possessions. By the time they are three, they begin to protest against other people’s violation of moral norms.

Perhaps because we are told by the media, think tanks and politicians that competition and self-interest are the defining norms of human life, we disastrously mischaracterise the way in which other people behave. A survey commissioned by the Common Cause Foundation reported that 78 per cent of respondents believe others to be more selfish than they really are.

I do not wish to suggest that this mythology of selfishness is the sole or even principal cause of the epidemic of loneliness now sweeping the world. But it is likely to contribute to the plague by breeding suspicion and a sense of threat. It also appears to provide a doctrine of justification for those afflicted by isolation, a doctrine that sees individualism as a higher state of existence than community. Perhaps it is hardly surprising that Britain, the European nation in which neoliberalism is most advanced, is, according to government figures, the loneliness capital of Europe.

There are several possible reasons for the atomisation now suffered by the supremely social mammal. Work, which used to bring us together, now disperses us: many people have neither fixed workplaces nor regular colleagues and regular hours. Our leisure time has undergone a similar transformation: cinema replaced by television, sport by computer games, time with friends by time on Facebook.

Social media seems to cut both ways: it brings us together and sets us apart. It helps us to stay in touch, but also cultivates a tendency that surely enhances other people’s sense of isolation: a determination to persuade your followers that you’re having a great time. FOMO – fear of missing out – seems, at least in my mind, to be closely ­associated with loneliness.

Children’s lives in particular have been transformed: since the 1970s, their unaccompanied home range (in other words, the area they roam without adult supervision) has declined in Britain by almost 90 per cent. Not only does this remove them from contact with the natural world, but it limits their contact with other children. When kids played out on the street or in the woods, they quickly formed their own tribes, learning the social skills that would see them through life.

An ageing population, family and community breakdown, the decline of institutions such as churches and trade unions, the switch from public transport to private, inequality, an alienating ethic of consumerism, the loss of common purpose: all these are likely to contribute to one of the most dangerous epidemics of our time.

Yes, I do mean dangerous. The stress response triggered by loneliness raises blood pressure and impairs the immune system. Loneliness enhances the risk of depression, paranoia, addiction, cognitive decline, dem­entia, heart disease, stroke, viral infection, accidents and suicide. It is as potent a cause of early death as smoking 15 cigarettes a day, and can be twice as deadly as obesity.

Perhaps because we are in thrall to the ideology that helps to cause the problem, we turn to the market to try to solve it. Over the past few weeks, the discovery of a new American profession, the people-walker (taking human beings for walks), has caused a small sensation in the media. In Japan there is a fully fledged market for friendship: you can hire friends by the hour with whom to chat and eat and watch TV; or, more disturbingly, to pose for pictures that you can post on social media. They are rented as mourners at funerals and guests at weddings. A recent article describes how a fake friend was used to replace a sister with whom the bride had fallen out. What would the bride’s mother make of it? No problem: she had been rented, too. In September we learned that similar customs have been followed in Britain for some time: an early foray into business for the Home Secretary, Amber Rudd, involved offering to lease her posh friends to underpopulated weddings.



My own experience fits the current pattern: the high incidence of loneliness suffered by people between the ages of 18 and 34. I have sometimes been lonely before and after that period, but it was during those years that I was most afflicted. The worst episode struck when I returned to Britain after six years working in West Papua, Brazil and East Africa. In those parts I sometimes felt like a ghost, drifting through societies to which I did not belong. I was often socially isolated, but I seldom felt lonely, perhaps because the issues I was investigating were so absorbing and the work so frightening that I was swept along by adrenalin and a sense of purpose.

When I came home, however, I fell into a mineshaft. My university friends, with their proper jobs, expensive mortgages and settled, prematurely aged lives, had become incomprehensible to me, and the life I had been leading seemed incomprehensible to everyone. Though feeling like a ghost abroad was in some ways liberating – a psychic decluttering that permitted an intense process of discovery – feeling like a ghost at home was terrifying. I existed, people acknowledged me, greeted me cordially, but I just could not connect. Wherever I went, I heard my own voice bouncing back at me.

Eventually I made new friends. But I still feel scarred by that time, and fearful that such desolation may recur, particularly in old age. These days, my loneliest moments come immediately after I’ve given a talk, when I’m surrounded by people congratulating me or asking questions. I often experience a falling sensation: their voices seem to recede above my head. I think it arises from the nature of the contact: because I can’t speak to anyone for more than a few seconds, it feels like social media brought to life.

The word “sullen” evolved from the Old French solain, which means “lonely”. Loneliness is associated with an enhanced perception of social threat, so one of its paradoxical consequences is a tendency to shut yourself off from strangers. When I was lonely, I felt like lashing out at the society from which I perceived myself excluded, as if the problem lay with other people. To read any comment thread is, I feel, to witness this tendency: you find people who are plainly making efforts to connect, but who do so by insulting and abusing, alienating the rest of the thread with their evident misanthropy. Perhaps some people really are rugged individualists. But others – especially online – appear to use that persona as a rationale for involuntary isolation.

Whatever the reasons might be, it is as if a spell had been cast on us, transforming this ultrasocial species into a population of loners. Like a parasite enhancing the conditions for its own survival, loneliness impedes its own cure by breeding shame and shyness. The work of groups such as Age UK, Mind, Positive Ageing and the Campaign to End Loneliness is life-saving.

When I first wrote about this subject, and the article went viral, several publishers urged me to write a book on the theme. Three years sitting at my desk, studying isolation: what’s the second prize? But I found another way of working on the issue, a way that engages me with others, rather than removing me. With the brilliant musician Ewan McLennan, I have written a concept album (I wrote the first draft of the lyrics; he refined them and wrote the music). Our aim is to use it to help break the spell, with performances of both music and the spoken word designed to bring people together –which, we hope, will end with a party at the nearest pub.

By itself, our work can make only a tiny contribution to addressing the epidemic. But I hope that, both by helping people to acknowledge it and by using the power of music to create common sentiment, we can at least begin to identify the barriers that separate us from others, and to remember that we are not the selfish, ruthless beings we are told we are.

“Breaking the Spell of Loneliness” by Ewan McLennan and George Monbiot is out now. For a full list of forthcoming gigs visit:

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood