Vikki Campion: Kimberley Kitching’s death has exposed truth about bullying in parliament

If realistic measures aren’t taken to address the bullying in parliament only narcissists and psychopaths will survive there, writes Vikki Campion.

“Deliver us Lord from every evil,” Senator Kimberley Kitching would grasp her rosary beads and murmur in Parliament House offices with Catholics across party lines.

The weekly prayers that started with a Hail Mary and finished with a cup of tea offered her and others a short refuge during brutal sitting weeks, where 6am media starts stretch into long nights and the week is a blur determined by the bells.

Privately, Senator Kitching was revered for her caring nature and mending bridges with the politically wounded, but often found sanctuary in Senate offices across the divide.

When your tormentors are on your side, you have to find respite in other places.

Labor Senator Kimberley Kitching will be remembered for her talent, care, bravery and contribution to the Labor movement. Picture: AAP Image

She’ll be as missed from morning tea toasties in Pauline Hanson’s Senate office and from parliamentary suites in the bipartisan rosary group, as she will from Otis Group dinners, where Labor members who understand we need mining to pay pensions come together.

Her friends believe heartache contributed to the stress she was under before her tragic early passing.

Kitching was a lawyer who took a substantial pay cut to do what was right for her country.

Her talent far exceeded those in her party who had a problem with her — and who had that problem because her talent threatened them.

When Senator Kitching asked PricewaterhouseCoopers — in its training sessions to tackle parliament’s culture — about how they could address the bullying she claims she experienced, (and which those accused have denied) the response would have been a big fat zero.

The tick-a-box sessions rolled out online used case studies that were fancifully black and white, hardly reflective of the reality, which is that MPs and senators who are bullied by other MPs and senators have no recourse.

Being bullied by senior colleagues comes with the maliciousness of the guards being the perpetrators of pain.

Politicians know how to co-ordinate the attack against their foe. They know how to make it hurt.

Parliament House is home to a toxic workplace culture, writes Vikki Campion.

When I asked PwC in an MP training session about the prevalent behaviour of parliamentarians insidiously bullying other parliamentarians, the response was an awkward shrug.

What is the point of having this charade of rules if they can never be enforced?

Bullying isn’t one fight or incident. It’s an ongoing campaign.

MPs and senators can’t report it to a superior because there isn’t one. Elected officials are accountable only to and by their electorates.

If they were wealthy enough, a target could take it to court, but MPs and senators have litigation insurance paid for by the taxpayer.

PwC staff training used fanciful case studies, such as a young man who went to a ministerial office, was ostracised after a mistake on his first day, outcast, and resigned after six weeks. Lucky guy had no mortgage, bills, or children.

The parliamentarian training did not take into account that MPs and senators suffered too.

Those subject to workplace bullying do not stay out of some misplaced masochism; they do so because they cannot simply quit. Malevolence resides in the building and is agnostic as to which political party a person belongs to.

There’s no end to conversations with overworked people on the brink, with red-rimmed eyes and downcast stares, dredging up the inner strength from a well of faith, some even passing around Valium to make it through a sitting week.

Failing to address this won’t bode well for the country if the only people who can stomach to be in parliament for any stretch are textbook narcissists preoccupied with an inflated view of their personal success or psychopaths incapable of compassion or empathy.

Lousy behaviour in the ALP by key perpetrators does not end at Senator Kitching, and she was not the first.

Her friends are doing what she would have done, they say. She wanted a change so those still there do not continue to endure the same treatment.

This final chapter will not define Senator Kitching’s legacy.

She was no weak victim and will be remembered for the bills she advocated for — which the Coalition liked so much they took for themselves — her talent, care across the chamber, bravery, and contribution to a movement that, frankly, did not deserve her.

When the rosary group next says: “To thee we send out our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears”, there will be an empty seat where Senator Kitching should be.

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