Winning over the "strivers" is key to the next election

Thatcher and Blair both understood the importance of aspirational voters - but do any party leaders

The battleground for the next election is already becoming clear. The decisive electoral map involves more seats in the North of England and the key voters at the next election will be the aspirational working class and lower middle class voters. Politicians need to do more to appeal to these voters if they are to have any chance of winning an overall majority in 2015.

In the last 50 years, 11 general elections have resulted in a party gaining an overall majority. Three politicians were responsible for nine of these 11 victories and all were successful because of their appeal to the "strivers". Margaret Thatcher, Tony Blair and Harold Wilson were all unique in their ability to appeal to aspirational voters, or those voters clumsily referred to by market research jargon as C1s and C2s. The other two leaders to have won overall majorities - Edward Heath and John Major - also had a unique aspirational appeal.

According to his biographer, the secret of the electoral success of Harold Wilson was that he was: "a reflection of what many people... were seeking: an image... of self-help, energy, efficiency and hostility to upper-class pretension and privilege. It was an image of virtue, endeavour and just reward."

Thatcher, who came from a similar aspirational background to Wilson, appealed to the same set of voters, albeit in different ways to match different times. Her appeal, based on spreading home ownership, share ownership and a belief in meritocracy chimed with the "strivers" of her time.

Blair didn't share the background of Wilson or Thatcher but did share their feel for the aspirational electors. In 2005, he argued that: "New Labour is today the party of aspiration, for middle-class and poorer families; for all. Every time we have ceded that ground in politics, we have lost. Every time we have occupied it, we've won."

Successfully appealing to aspiration is so often the key to delivering election victory in the UK, especially in key marginal seats. It was clear that neither Party at the last election had convinced sufficient numbers of aspirational voters in order to win a majority. According to Ipsos MORI, in her three election victories, Thatcher claimed an average of 40 per cent of the C2 vote (increasing the Tory share by 15 per cent in 1979). Blair averaged 46 per cent of the C2 in his three election victories, increasing the Labour share amongst C2s by 10 per cent between 1992 and 1997.

By contrast, at the last election, the Conservatives could only poll 37% of the C2 vote - only 4 per cent up on 2005. Although Labour's vote amongst the C2s had plummeted from 40 per cent at the previous election to 29% in 2010, not enough of them had turned to the Tories. "Mondeo man" didn't turn out for the Conservatives in 2010 in the same way that he had turned out for Thatcher or Blair.

Both political parties are facing different challenges in appealing to hard-working, aspirational voters. Polls show that the Conservatives are seen by a large number of respondents as "the party of the rich", who don't understand ordinary working people or people from the North of England or Scotland. The same polls, show that Labour are overly identified with trade unions, the poor and public sector workers and don't understand ambition or aspiration.

Crucially, research for Policy Exchange has shown that the country is more aspirational than ever and that appealing to this ingrained belief in meritocracy and aspiration will be a key determinant of the result of the next election. In the research, we asked what people believed that the best conception of "fairness" was. The idea that, "in a fair society, people's incomes should depend on how hard they work and how talented they are" was supported by some 85 per cent of respondents. This was a considerably greater proportion than those who supported either a free market (63 per cent) or egalitarian (41 per cent) conception of fairness.

The findings illustrate the centrality of aspiration to being successful in British politics. The aspirational lower middle class and working class, who are ambitious for themselves and their children, and willing to work hard in order to succeed, remain fundamental to electoral success in the UK. Ed Miliband, with his concept of the "squeezed middle" has begun to understand the importance of aspirational voters.

Appealing to the "strivers" will, of course, require workable policy as well as rhetoric. Issues including developing a quality state education system, reforming welfare and housing policy will be central themes.

Only by tapping in to the aspirational "strivers" will either party be able to win a majority at the next election. So far, neither party has shown itself entirely able to tap in to the aspirational feeling that meant Wilson, Thatcher and Blair could achieve electoral success.

David Skelton is deputy director of Policy Exchange.

David Skelton is the director of Renewal, a new campaign group aiming to broaden the appeal of the Conservative Party to working class and ethnic minority voters. @djskelton

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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