Laughter, tears and applause – a fitting tribute to Tony Benn

The first thing you noticed arriving in Westminster this morning were the crowds. All around Parliament Square they stretched, from the exit to the tube station, around past monuments to the greats of Parliamentary democracy, around past the Commons where Benn served for twenty years, and on to the entrance of St Margaret’s Church. Banners sprang up throughout the crowd marking just some of the causes championed by the late giant of Labour politics. CLPs where he had spoken in the past were represented too.

The call had gone out to line the route of Benn’s final journey, and many of the people who loved and been encouraged by him had answered the call.

And then inside the church, a veritable who’s who of Labour figures from the past forty years. The Shadow Cabinet, trade unionists, generations of political friends and others from political traditions outside of the British Labour movement who had known Benn. Michael Heseltine, Andrew Mitchell, George Young, Gerry Adams, Martin McGuinness. To name only a handful of those who were there does little justice to the depth and breath of those assembled to give Benn a fitting send off. And not just politicians either. Benn was a great parliamentarian but also a campaigner who rallied those in the arts, journalism and all manner of different activist groups behind him and the causes he believed in. All were represented there today.

And yet those outside today played just as big a role in today’s proceedings as those inside the rarified confines of this ornate Westminster church. The applause from outside for Benn’s cortege as it came towards the church sent a tingle down the spine – and then it was there in the aisle, carried aloft, a huge array of roses ontop of the coffin. The 11am chimes of Big Ben – the metronome of British life as well as Westminster life – rang in the background, mingling with the choir as the coffin was carried through the church. A fitting way for Benn, a parliamentarian for half a century, to make his entrance.

Hymns were sung, and verses were read. Speaker Bercow delivered a reading from Corinthians (“And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.”), more choral music and then the Dean of Westminster.

He spoke of a quote that hung in Benn’s office, one that has been repeated many times in recent weeks “Dare to be a Daniel, dare to stand alone”. And yet Benn, even when he was ‘the most hated man in Britain’ never stood alone. That was clear from today’s tributes. Ed Miliband, who worked for Benn as a teenager, read a powerful passage from Pilgrim’s Progress (“So he passed over, and all the Trumpets sounded for him on the other side.”).

And then the emotional centrepiece of the day – the tributes from Benn’s family.

Thanks were made to those outside, and their cheers punctured the relative silence indoors. The emotional floodgates were well and truly open.

Brother David recounted how Tony was radicalised by two things – public school (“which he loathed”) and his time in Africa with the RAF, which turned him into a lifelong anti-colonialist and anti-racist. And then his children, each as moving and powerful as the last. Hilary – whose voice, like his brother Stephen’s, shares some of the familiarity of his father – spoke with great humour about his father crashing a car whilst campaigning in 1945, and exclaiming “Sir, you have just been hit by the Labour candidate”. Hilary too noted that his father “taught us that another world is possible”.

Daughter Melissa focussed on the mischevious Tony, who would prank call Tony Crossland pretending to be a constituent (“Alastair McAlastair”), be drawn into protracted debates at Boots and once ate so many bananas he was admitted to hospital with suspected pottasium poisining.

Eldest son Stephen regaled the audience with tales of driving Barbara Castle home from dinner, without knowing where to take her. She didn’t know either, it transpired, and she was the Transport Secretary. But after all of the laughter, Stephen ended his tribute on a powerful note, that the last words Benn heard on this earth were his children telling him that they loved him.

The laughter turned to tears, and the incredible sadness of an incredibly close family came to the fore.

After the tributes came more hymns, more prayers and more painfully beautiful choral pieces. And then the cortege was carried out of the church, and the organ began to play The Red Flag. The words were printed in the programme, but no-one needed them.

Yet the words never came.

Instead, a wonderul and spontaneous round of applause echoed throughout the church, continuing long after Benn’s coffin had departed. As the guests began to leave the church, the Red Flag rose again from the audience, this time without music, but with passion and sadness – and a little defiance too. A smattering of fists were raised aloft, others dried their eyes as the tears flowed.

And then back outside into the daylight and the crowds. The contrast between the two was fitting, as it brought to mind the sides of Benn’s life in politics. Inside, the great parliamentarian who spoke with passion in the rarified and often sedate confines of Parliament. Outside, the great campaigner Tony Benn, who spoke with passion to crowds up and down the country and drew their laughter, applause and gratitude.

Both sides of Tony Benn were well served by today’s send off. It was a fitting tribute. There was laughter and tears, but also applause. He will be missed by all who knew him and many more besides.

Because he encouraged us.