The real reasons Boris won and Ken lost

Both sides have drawn the wrong lessons from the result.

“His message, tone, strategy and agenda was wrong. This should not have been close” tweeted one Blairite critic of Ken Livingstone as it became clear he had lost. “It's not a victory for the Tories, it’s a victory for The Evening Standard and their relentless anti-Ken propaganda” tweeted one of Livingstone’s supporters, whilst Ken lashed out at “media bias” during his concession speech.
 
In reality both analyses contain some truth but fundamentally miss the mark. It is true that the coverage of this campaign, especially from the Evening Standard was unremittingly hard on Ken and easy going on Boris. As the results came in last night, even one of Boris’s biggest supporters told me privately how surprised they’d been at the sheer scale of fawning the paper has done over Johnson in the past few weeks.
 
But after four decades in politics, Ken should not be surprised at being attacked by newspapers. At every election he has stood in, the right-wing press has attacked him and at most of those elections, Ken has won. That he failed to do so this time is not because of what he describes as the “smears” against him, but because he was simply no longer able to overcome them.
 
Similarly the Blairite’s claim that Ken’s agenda had turned off voter’s does not stand up to much scrutiny. In all the polling that was done, Ken’s policies of lower fares and his measures to reduce the cost of living, were overwhelmingly supported by the public, with Johnson’s main policy of small cuts to council tax barely registering.
 
The problem was not Ken's agenda, but the fact that it was Ken calling for that agenda. The sad truth is that after 41 years in London politics, too many Londoners have simply stopped listening to him. Every politician has a shelf life, a point where voters look at them and coldly decide to give another product a go. For Ken that happened in 2008 and he has spent the past four years failing to come to terms with it.
 
However much we might like London Mayoral elections to be about the future of the city or “a referendum on the government”, they have never been about policies or political parties. They have always been about personalities. In 2000 Labour were running high nationally, and Tony Blair was still very popular. Yet the Labour candidate he imposed on London came a humiliating third in that election whilst Ken came first, even with a split Labour vote.
 
Similarly in 2004, Labour had a disastrous set of local and European election results and the Tories did well. Yet in London, Ken managed to romp home for the second time against the Conservative candidate Steven Norris. In both cases it wasn’t the political party of the candidate that decided the result, but the personalities of the candidates themselves.
 
In a personality contest between Ken and Norris, Ken won both times. In a personality contest between Ken and Boris, Ken lost both times. If you keep on asking the same question, then the chances are you will keep on getting the same answer.
 
The Conservative Party are also showing signs of taking all the wrong lessons from last night’s election results. Already the case is being built by many Tory-supporting commentators and politicians that Boris won because he is a “real Conservative” in favour of tax cutting, personal freedom and an aggressive attitude towards Europe.
 
But what this fails to grasp is that while Boris preached all of these things to Daily Telegraph readers, he has not practised any of them in his main job as London Mayor. Far from being a radical Conservative reformer, Boris has almost entirely accepted the settlement left for him by Ken Livingstone at City Hall.
 
Under Boris, spending on infrastructure, and the wages of Tube workers has risen whilst the mass bureaucracy at Transport for London has barely been touched. The multicultural festivals, diversity agendas and environmental projects have all continued whilst Boris has stretched every sinew to persuade Londoners that he is not the mad swivel-eyed Tory that Labour had tried to persuade them he was.
 
Some of the more unhinged elements of the Tory party believe that David Cameron’s support for gay marriage has cost them at this week’s elections. Yet in the one election where the party has done well, they have done so with a candidate who has not only championed gay rights but who actually led London’s Gay Pride march whilst wearing a pink Stetson.
 
If the Conservatives use these election results as an excuse to drift even further right then they will suffer far worse results in the years to come. Similarly if Labour use Ken’s loss as an excuse to follow the Tories in the same direction, then they too will suffer at the polls.
 
Boris Johnson did not win last night because of any “real Conservative” agenda and Ken Livingstone did not lose because of a failure to sign up to the Blairite cause. Boris won because Londoners saw him as the most charismatic and likeable candidate. Ken lost, because after 41 long years too many Londoners have simply had enough.
 
Ken Livingstone, Green Party candidate Jenny Jones and Boris Johnson listen to the results of the London mayoral election. Photograph: Getty Images.

Adam Bienkov is a blogger and journalist covering London politics and the Mayoralty. He blogs mostly at AdamBienkov.com

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The Tinder dating app isn't just about sex – it's about friendship, too. And sex

The lines between sex, love and friendship are blurrier than ever, as I found out quickly while using the app.

The first time I met someone using Tinder, the free dating app that requires users to swipe left for “no” and right for “yes” before enabling new “matches” to chat, it was an unqualified success. I should probably qualify that. I was newly single after five years in a committed relationship and wasn’t looking for anything more than fun, friendship and, well, who knows. A few weeks earlier I had tried to give my number to a girl in a cinema café in Brixton. I wrote it on a postcard I’d been using as a bookmark. She said she had a boyfriend, but wanted to keep the postcard. I had no date and I lost my page.

My Tinder date was a master’s student from Valencia called Anna (her name wasn’t really Anna, of course, I’m not a sociopath). When I arrived at the appointed meeting place, she told me I was far more handsome IRL (“in real life”) than my pictures suggested. I was flattered and full of praise for the directness of continental Europeans but also thought sadly to myself: “If only the same could be said about you.”

Anna and I became friends, at least for a while. The date wasn’t a success in the traditional sense of leading us into a contract based on exclusivity, an accumulating cache of resentments and a mortgage, but it had put me back in the game (an appropriate metaphor – people speak regularly of “playing” with the app).

According to Sean Rad, the co-founder who launched Tinder in late 2012, the service was invented for people like me. “It was really a way to overcome my own problems,” he told the editor of Cosmopolitan at an event in London last month. “It was weird to me, to start a conversation [with a stranger]. Once I had an introduction I was fine, but it’s that first step. It’s difficult for a lot of people.” After just one outing, I’d learned two fundamental lessons about the world of online dating: pretty much everyone has at least one decent picture of themselves, and meeting women using a so-called hook-up app is seldom straightforwardly about sex.

Although sometimes it is. My second Tinder date took place in Vienna. I met Louisa (ditto, name) outside some notable church or other one evening while visiting on holiday (Tinder tourism being, in my view, a far more compelling way to get to know a place than a cumbersome Lonely Planet guide). We drank cocktails by the Danube and rambled across the city before making the romantic decision to stay awake all night, as she had to leave early the next day to go hiking with friends. It was just like the Richard Linklater movie Before Sunrise – something I said out loud more than a few times as the Aperol Spritzes took their toll.

When we met up in London a few months later, Louisa and I decided to skip the second part of Linklater’s beautiful triptych and fast-track our relationship straight to the third, Before Midnight, which takes place 18 years after the protagonists’ first meet in Vienna, and have begun to discover that they hate each others’ guts.

Which is one of the many hazards of the swiping life: unlike with older, web-based platforms such as Match.com or OkCupid, which require a substantial written profile, Tinder users know relatively little about their prospective mates. All that’s necessary is a Facebook account and a single photograph. University, occupation, a short bio and mutual Facebook “likes” are optional (my bio is made up entirely of emojis: the pizza slice, the dancing lady, the stack of books).

Worse still, you will see people you know on Tinder – that includes colleagues, neighbours and exes – and they will see you. Far more people swipe out of boredom or curiosity than are ever likely to want to meet up, in part because swiping is so brain-corrosively addictive.

While the company is cagey about its user data, we know that Tinder has been downloaded over 100 million times and has produced upwards of 11 billion matches – though the number of people who have made contact will be far lower. It may sound like a lot but the Tinder user-base remains stuck at around the 50 million mark: a self-selecting coterie of mainly urban, reasonably affluent, generally white men and women, mostly aged between 18 and 34.

A new generation of apps – such as Hey! Vina and Skout – is seeking to capitalise on Tinder’s reputation as a portal for sleaze, a charge Sean Rad was keen to deny at the London event. Tinder is working on a new iteration, Tinder Social, for groups of friends who want to hang out with other groups on a night out, rather than dating. This makes sense for a relatively fresh business determined to keep on growing: more people are in relationships than out of them, after all.

After two years of using Tinder, off and on, last weekend I deleted the app. I had been visiting a friend in Sweden, and took it pretty badly when a Tinder date invited me to a terrible nightclub, only to take a few looks at me and bolt without even bothering to fabricate an excuse. But on the plane back to London the next day, a strange thing happened. Before takeoff, the woman sitting beside me started crying. I assumed something bad had happened but she explained that she was terrified of flying. Almost as terrified, it turned out, as I am. We wound up holding hands through a horrific patch of mid-air turbulence, exchanged anecdotes to distract ourselves and even, when we were safely in sight of the ground, a kiss.

She’s in my phone, but as a contact on Facebook rather than an avatar on a dating app. I’ll probably never see her again but who knows. People connect in strange new ways all the time. The lines between sex, love and friendship are blurrier than ever, but you can be sure that if you look closely at the lines, you’ll almost certainly notice the pixels.

Philip Maughan is Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 26 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit odd squad