Jo Cox remembered in Parliament tributes: 'Jo understood that rhetoric has consequences'

MPs are left in tears as Parliament is recalled to pay tribute to Jo Cox

Stephen Kinnock tells MPs Jo Cox would have been 'outraged' (PA)

In the cloisters below Big Ben, Chuka Umunna placed his arm round Stephen Kinnock, and squeezed him firmly on the shoulder as the two men turned left into central lobby.

Most days these are the last steps Members of Parliament walk in a frantic hurry when the division bell has rung and a vote has been called.

On Monday afternoon, but for the white roses on the lapels, it was no different to the sad but familiar scene we have probably all seen before. Dark suits. Stricken faces. One young man, steeling another for that unenviable task of finding the words and holding your nerve to honour a young friend gone too soon.

Parliament is no stranger to tributes. Never a week goes by without it pausing briefly to record the passing of some poet or rockstar, or in relatively recent times, a fallen soldier in some corner of a foreign field. Never before has it been recalled to hold what carried every outward symbol of a funeral for one of its own, murdered in the street just for being one of their own.

A white rose of Yorkshire and a red rose of Labour were pinned to the seat where Jo Cox had become used to sitting, next to the aisle on the third row back, next to Jess Phillips, and a couple down from Stephen Kinnock, her friend of twenty years and Westminster office co-habitor of one.

In the public gallery, a little boy and a little girl bounced with restless energy on the laps of assorted family members. As Jeremy Corbyn spoke of a life that was “a demonstration against despair” Brendan Cox briefly turned away, keeping his children occupied with a large colouring book. “We must tolerate a little more,” Mr Corbyn said. “And condemn a little less.”

As Rachel Reeves told of her visits to the Cox family houseboat, thinking she had had too much wine when in fact, “It was the boat that was swaying,” Jo’s sister Kim’s grief-blotched face split into a broad smile.

“The people of Batley and Spen will elect a new MP, but no one can replace a mother,” she said, as her composure finally gave way. The Prime Minister and the Chancellor wiped away tears.

The Conservative MP Andrew Mitchell, who had co-chaired the all party parliamentary group on Syria with her, recalled an incident in which he had witnessed, “This five foot bundle of old fashioned Yorkshire common sense dressing down the Russian ambassador for his country’s cruelty in Syria.”

He called on those present to, 'Redouble their efforts on the biggest human catastrophe our age.' A reminder that Jo Cox had been drawn to this place for its power to change, to do good. It has let her down.

Mr Mitchell's was a common theme. “I was in awe of Jo,” said Stephen Doughty, who before the pair both became MPs had worked together at Oxfam. “If I’m honest I was a bit envious. She was never satisfied with platitudes. She wanted action. Jo never asked, ‘What do you think?’ but ‘What should we do?’”

He was right. It is actions, not words, that have plunged a political family and a real one into mourning. But anyone in politics knows that words matter.

“Jo understood that rhetoric has consequences,” said Stephen Kinnock, amid tales of ‘dinosaur drawings’ brought in the office the two of them shared, a present from her young children.

“When insecurity, fear and anger are used to light a fuse then an explosion is inevitable. On Thursday Jo was assassinated for what she was and for what she stood for. But out of the deep darkness of Jo’s death, must come the shining light of her legacy.”

He spoke of the Ukip’s notorious ‘Breaking Point’ poster, unveiled with the now traditional Ukip fanfare of theme from The Great Escape.

“Jo would have responded with outrage,” he said. “And with a robust rejection of a calculated campaign of cynicism, division and despair that it represents.”

As he sat down, a hand reached over her from the direction of the white and red rose, Wes Streeting’s this time.

“She was not the easiest person to whip,” said Holly Lynch, MP for Halifax, another of the 2015 intake. “She knew that certain late night votes were not as important as tucking her children into bed. She was the heart and soul of these benches. And we are heartbroken.”

It lasted just under an hour, before the Serjeant-at-Arms arrived and picked up the mace, formally re-suspending Parliament. As the MPs processed out in pairs, applause broke out. On the labour benches first, then the SNP, then the Conservatives, before it spread to the public gallery and the press, the entire room up on its feet.

High in the far corner, two small pairs of hands flashed against the railing. They were waving, and there on the floor of the house was Mr Kinnock waving back.