David Miliband to guest-edit next week's New Statesman

Issue to focus on shifts in world power.

A special issue featuring essays, columns and interviews ­— with
Hillary Clinton, Kevin Rudd, Richard Branson, Michael Semple interview with Taliban leader, Tony Blair, Kwame Kwei-Armah, Russell Brand, Ed Miliband, David Walliams, Jonathan Coe, Jo Brand, Ozwald Boateng and many others

For this 80-page edition, David Miliband has commissioned a series of articles around the theme of shifts in world power.

David Miliband said:

“For many years I have wanted to tell New Statesman readers what really matters — so when Jason Cowley asked me to guest-edit an issue it was a challenge I couldn’t resist!

“This is an extraordinary time of economic and political change around the world that is immensely challenging for the west and for the left. So I have produced an issue that tries to explain the big drivers of change in the world, and how the west and the left should react.

“The issue reflects what I care about — from South Shields to human rights to what makes me smile or laugh. And I have tried to produce an issue that is passionate without shouting and uses reason without being technocratic.”

Jason Cowley, editor of the New Statesman, said:

“I asked David to guest-edit because we wanted to produce an issue exploring the great challenges facing the world in what is a period of profound and uneasy transition as power shifts from west to east and the old European social-democratic model becomes unsustainable. As a former foreign secretary and one of our most intellectually capable politicians, he was ideally placed to gather together leading thinkers and politicians in one issue of the New Statesman.

“Our guest-edited issues have proved hugely popular with our readers as well as being great journalistic successes. This one will be no different.”

The issue, cover-dated 16 July, will be on sale in London on Thursday 12 July and in the rest of the country from Friday 13 July. International buyers can obtain copies on our website at www.newstatesman.com.

NOTES FOR EDITORS

David Miliband is the New Statesman’s seventh guest editor, after Alastair Campbell, Ken Livingstone, Melvyn Bragg, Jemima Khan, Rowan Williams and Richard Dawkins.

Exclusives:

Melvyn Bragg’s guest edit on 11 October 2010 featured “Last Letter”, a newly discovered, previously unpublished poem by Ted Hughes about the night that his wife Sylvia Plath committed suicide.

Jemima Khan’s guest edit (11 April 2011) featured her agenda-setting interview with the Deputy Prime Minister, Nick Clegg – in which he declared “I’m not a punchbag” – as well as Hugh Grant’s undercover interview with a former News of the World executive which became a worldwide media sensation.

Rowan Williams’s guest edit on 13 June 2011 dominated the news agenda for several days in response to his bold leader article criticising the coalition. He wrote, "We are being committed to radical, long-term policies for which no one voted.”

Richard Dawkins’s guest edit (19 December 2011) contained the last interview with the writer and polemicist Christopher Hitchens.

Artwork by Hvass & Hannibal @ Pocko
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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