Someone asked if I had ever thought of standing for parliament and the truth is that I did think about it once in Australia only to dismiss the idea. I’ve told the story before before but it bears repeating.

I was treasurer of our local branch of the Australian Labor Party (ALP) when our secretary Steve stood as our candidate in the New South Wales election. We lost by such a narrow margin that we demanded a recount but it wasn’t just a matter of one seat, another marginal seat was just as close, and if Labor had won those two seats we’ld have had a Labor government in NSW!

So you can imagine my annoyance when Steve stood down from his candidacy for the federal election, no doubt under pressure from head office, in favour of a candidate who had stood against him in the state election and split the vote – costing us not only the seat but the government of NSW! He should have been disqualified under party rules, which are pretty much the same as UK Labour but can be ignored if the party finds them inconvenient – he hadn’t been a member of the ALP for a year, as I had, and had actually cost us an election by splitting the vote!

I was livid, and actually considered putting myself forward for selection, but I decided that I had little chance of winning where Steve failed. I wasn’t well known beyond my immediate circle, except as a skid row alcoholic who had somehow managed to earn a BA in philosophy. This is where the “What if…” comes in. What if, beyond all expectations, I were elected?

I subscribe to Plato’s view that the best leaders are those who accept the role from a sense of duty rather than personal ambition – people like Jeremy Corbyn and Chris Williamson. I don’t agree with Plato that philosophers should become rulers or at least teach the rulers. His pupil Aristotle was more successful as tutor to Alexander the Great. Marcus Aurelius espoused Stoicism but his philosophical views had little impact in the years following his death.

John Stuart Mill is my model for a philosopher who became an MP and wasn’t very good at it. If, against all odds, I were to be elected my maiden speech would probably be my last. I wouldn’t be able to refrain from calling out conventions that require an MP to refer to a member of their own party as “my honourable friend” when they shown they’re neither. I’ld be lying if I said someone was “inadvertently misleading the house” if I know they’re deliberately misleading the house, but calling an MP a liar gets you banished from the House for the remainder of the day – just ask Dawn Butler MP!

I was travelling home from university one day and met a comrade from my Labor Party branch who asked me what I was studying. When I told her it was Political Philosophy she asked how I reconciled my studies with party politics. I replied that I don’t, I regard them as quite separate. Philosophy is about asking the right questions but I don’t intend to hang around until someone comes up with the right answer.

I think the best compliment that I’ve ever received was in a handwritten reference from my mentor who said I was not a ivory tower philosopher but one with lived experience as a recovering alcoholic. He also mentioned me in the acknowledgments section of his book* as one of his students from whom he had learned a lot. A signed copy is one of my prized possessions that I’m considering auctioning for a worthy cause.

I proposed at one branch meeting that we set some time aside the following week to debate the privatisation of the Commonwealth Bank. We did have a Labor government then and our MP was present, so I opened the debate and he closed it. There was some lively debate in which my main point was completely lost. I didn’t object to the privatisation itself, although I was opposed, as to the manner in which the decision had been made. I did say that Eric, our MP, should not be there to justify a decision that had already been made and it was unfair on him to be put in that position. He should have been there explaining the government proposal and allowing members to have a say.

I joined the Australian Labor Party for the same reason I quit UK Labour, I didn’t like the direction in which the party was headed. Voting is compulsory in Australia and I always voted Labor except once when I cast a protest vote for an independent. Like many others I hoped Labor would be returned with a reduced majority, but it backfired and we ended up with a Lib/Nat government. They thought they had won when in fact Labour had lost and the result was reversed at the next election but it showed me the futility of a protest vote. I decided that if I wanted to help shape policy I needed to become a member of the party, but I was quickly disillusioned. Grassroots members have as little influence on policy as an NCO on the battlefield has on strategy, our role is to muster the voters and we do that to the best of our ability. We might make a difference in small ways but it’s quite naive to expect us to more.

I joined the Labour Party on the day Jeremy Corbyn was elected as leader, having voted for him as a member of Unite Community. I have now resigned from both the party and the union for the same reason I joined the Australian Labor Party – I don’t agree with the direction they’re going but I’m not so naive as to think I can change things from within.

My Lakota name Mani Isna La translates literally as ‘he walks alone’ and reflects my belief that it’s better to walk alone than to follow a crowd going in the wrong direction. I’m neither a leader or a follower but I welcome comrades who walk beside me for part of the way.

My education taught me how to think, not what to think. What if I had chosen a different path?

• What if I’d stayed in Australia and worked towards a masters degree instead of returning to a precarious livelihood in the UK?
• What if I hadn’t left school at 16 and gone on to university then instead of doing so as a mature student.
• What if my father hadn’t been flying that V-bomber?
• What if I had married when I was young instead of emigrating?
• What if I had married later after graduating at the age of 40?

Our lives are full of ‘what ifs…’ Some are beyond our control, others are choices we make but they all shape the person we become. When it comes to making a personal decision, the road not taken that can make all the difference.

* AW Sparkes Talking Politics: A Wordbook Routledge 1994