Ann Widdecombe:
Faith, Public Service and Her Friendship with Hull

The death of Ann Widdecombe has brought tributes from people across the political divide. That seems fitting. She was never a politician who slipped quietly through a room, careful not to disturb the furniture. She spoke plainly, argued vigorously and was quite prepared to stand alone. People might disagree with her — sometimes profoundly — but very few were left wondering what she believed.

For Catholics, however, there was another side to Ann Widdecombe’s public life. Her politics and her faith were not separate compartments, brought out according to the occasion. She became a Catholic in 1993, after years of reflection and dissatisfaction with the direction of the Church of England. Whatever judgement people made about her political conclusions, nobody could reasonably doubt that her Christian convictions were serious.

She defended the dignity of human life, opposed abortion and assisted dying, and spoke openly about the importance of religious belief in public life. In 2013 Pope Benedict XVI appointed her a Dame of the Order of St Gregory the Great, recognising her service to politics and public life. She was also sometimes a reader at the Sunday evening Mass in Westminster Cathedral. The formidable television personality, the sharp parliamentary debater and the familiar figure from Strictly Come Dancing was also a woman who stood at the lectern and proclaimed the Word of God.

Hull had its own connection with her. During the mid-1990s she served for about three years as the Government’s designated Minister for Hull. It was not the same as being one of the city’s MPs, but it gave her a particular government responsibility for Hull at a time when the city faced serious economic and social challenges. Although Hull’s civic leadership was largely Labour, she gained respect from political opponents who recognised her commitment to the role. In a city not known for being easily impressed by visiting politicians, that was no small achievement.

Patrick Doyle, a Saint Charles parishioner who was then leader of Hull City Council and Chair of the partnership City VIsion, remembers attending a conference in Liverpool called by the Bishops of England and Wales for Catholics of all political parties who were public representatives. His colleague, Councillor Des Montgomery, another member of the congregation at St Charles, was also there.

By then Patrick knew Ann well, and she joined the Hull table for meals. Their politics were different, but their faith was the same. That connection says something valuable in an age when political disagreement too easily becomes personal hostility. Catholics have never all belonged to one political party, nor should they. The Church is not a party headquarters with a crucifix over the door. Catholic social teaching challenges every political tradition: the right on poverty and solidarity, the left on the sanctity of life and the family, and all of us on the dignity of those we find inconvenient.

What Catholics can share, even amid strong disagreement, is the recognition that public life ought to be a form of service. Politics matters because people matter: the child not yet born, the prisoner, the unemployed worker, the elderly person fearful of becoming a burden, and the family struggling to keep its head above water. Ann Widdecombe’s answers were not everyone’s answers, but she did not treat such questions as mere lines in a briefing paper. She believed that moral choices were real and that politicians would one day answer for them.

There was humour too. Her years after Westminster revealed a willingness to be laughed at and, more importantly, to laugh at herself. Her partnership with Anton Du Beke on Strictly was unlikely, frequently chaotic and strangely endearing. She once observed that life was not a dress rehearsal and that we get only “one go this side of eternity”. Behind the joke was a thoroughly Christian understanding: earthly life is precious, purposeful and brief.

The shocking violence of her death must not be allowed the final word. For Christians, death never has the final word. Our response is not simply to praise a public career, but to pray for a soul: to commend Ann Widdecombe to the mercy of God, to pray for those who mourn her, and to ask that hatred may not poison our public life.

Ann was forceful, sometimes controversial, often funny and unmistakably herself. Patrick’s memory of meeting her across political differences offers a fitting image: two Catholics in public life, not necessarily voting alike, but standing on common ground before God.

May she rest in peace.

by Johannes. July 2026