Police and crime commissioner elections: all you need to know

Where they're being held, who's standing and why we're electing commissioners at all.

If, like most people, you still haven't got round to finding out what this Thursday's police and crime commissioner elections are all about, here's a Staggers guide to everything you need to know.

Why are we electing police and crime commissioners (PCCs)?

The coalition argues that the introduction of elected commissioners, who will replace local police authorities, will improve police accountability, free up officers for frontline duties and increase public confidence in the service. Commissioners’ duties will include appointing and dismissing chief constables, agreeing budgets and setting local policing priorities.

The brainchild of the Conservatives, who first proposed elected commissioners in their 2010 manifesto (Steve Hilton was a notable champion), the policy was included in the Coalition Agreement, which pledged to "introduce measures to make the police more accountable through oversight by a directly elected individual". The commissioners will face re-election every four years.

Where are the elections being held?

In 41 of the 43 police areas in England and Wales. The two exceptions are the Metropolitan Police Area, where the Mayor of London acts as the police and crime commissioner, and the City of London Police Area, where the Court of Common Council fills the role.

In Scotland and Northern Ireland, policing has been devolved to the Scottish Parliament and the Northern Ireland Assembly respectively.

What does Labour think?

Labour voted against the policy in Parliament on the grounds that it would end "a 150 year tradition of keeping politics out of policing" and cost the government tens of millions at a time of police cuts.

The party considered boycotting the elections but eventually announced that it would stand a full slate of candidates, who would campaign against cuts and the privatisation of policing.

Ed Miliband said: "We didn't seek these police commissioner elections. We thought that if you were spending £125m most people would want that money spent on the police, not on new elections.But if these elections do go ahead - if the government insists on them going ahead - we, Labour, are determined to make the best of a bad job."

Labour's policy on commissioners is currently being examined by former Metropolitan police commissioner John Stevens as part of his review of policing for the party.

Who’s standing?

Labour and the Tories are fielding candidates in all 41 force areas, but, in a sign of the party’s current woes, the Liberal Democrats are only standing in 24, the same number as the UK Independence Party. The Green Party is fielding one candidate, the English Democrats five and the British Freedom Party (the political wing of the English Defence League) one. Plaid Cymru is boycotting the elections in Wales on the grounds that the police force "should be run by experienced professionals, not elected members with an agenda to serve their own party’s interests".

The most high-profile candidate is John Prescott, who is standing in Humberside, which includes the seat of Hull East, where he served as MP from 1970-2010. Other notable Labour candidates include former Welsh First Minister Alun Michael, who is running in South Wales, Tony Lloyd, the former chairman of the Parliamentary Labour Party (whose decision to run triggered a byelection in Manchester Central, to be held on the same day), former Solicitor General Vera Baird, who is Labour’s candidate in Northumbria, and Jane Kennedy, the former Labour MP for Liverpool Wavertree, who defeated Peter Kilfoyle in the nomination process.

Tory candidates include former minister Michael Mates, who has been accused by rival candidate Don Jerrard of the Justice and Anti-Corruption Party of misrepresenting his place of residence, Graham Bright, the former MP for Luton South and Craig Mackinlay, the former deputy leader of the UK Independence Party.

Why have some candidates been forced to withdraw?

Due to rules barring anyone convicted of an imprisonable offence from standing, regardless of whether they were jailed or not. Bob Ashford, Labour's candidate in Avon and Somerset, was forced to withdraw after he was revealed to have been convicted of trespassing and being in possession of an offensive weapon when aged 13 in 1966. He was fined £2, 10 shillings for both offences.

Falklands war veteran Simon Weston withdrew from election in south Wales after concerns were raised over a conviction for being a passenger in a stolen car when he was 14.

Lee Barron sought to withdraw as Labour's candidate in Northamptonshire after he was suspended by the party over an unspecified offence committed when he was 19, but was told that he had missed the deadline (24 October) to do so. Should Barron be elected, an acting PCC will be appointed by the Police and Crime Panel until a by-election is held at least 35 days later.

Which voting system will be used?

The Supplementary Vote, a variant of the Alternative Vote, which allows voters to give two preferences. If no candidate wins a majority of first preference votes, all bar the top two candidates are eliminated and a second count is held. The second preference votes of those who supported the eliminated candidates are then allocated among the remaining two and the candidate with the most votes is elected.

The system is currently used to elect all directly-elected mayors in England and Wales, most notably the Mayor of London.

What’s turnout likely to be like?

Terrible. The Electoral Reform Society has estimated that just 18.5 per cent of eligible voters will take part, while a poll by Ipsos MORI suggested a figure of 15 per cent. Either number would be the lowest in British polling history; the ignominious record is currently held by the 1999 EU Parliament election in which just 23 per cent voted.

Critics have warned that the date of the elections (people are disinclined to vote on dark winter nights) and the lack of information provided to the public will hinder participation. Ministers refused to fund a mail-shot for candidates on the grounds that it would add £35m to the £75m bill for the elections, but the helpline set up to offer information to the seven million potential voters without internet access has been described as "useless". A spokesperson for the Electoral Commission said it had received "hundreds of calls" about problems with the helpline.

Despite warnings that the commissioners will lack legitimacy if elected by so few people, the Home Secretary, Theresa May, has rejected calls for a minimum turnout threshold. She said: "I never set a turnout threshold for any election and I'm not going to do it now. The people elected as police commissioners will have something that the current police authorities do not have, which is a democratic mandate."

Conceding that turnout is likely to be disappointing, David Cameron has argued that "first elections" are always difficult and that turnout is likely to grow as "people realise the elected PCC is an important job."

But after voters rejected the introduction of directly-elected mayors in nine of the ten city-wide referendums held in May (the exception being Bristol, which holds its first mayoral election on Thursday), a derisory turnout would be another blow to the coalition's localism agenda.

Who's going to win?

Based on recent polling data, Labour is likely to win the majority of the 41 contests. In addition to those being held in the north and Wales, a strong performance would see the party win in areas like Bedfordshire, Derbyshire, Leicestershire and Warwickshire, where the Conservatives outpolled them at the last general election. But the unprecedented nature of the elections means the result is hard to predict and the Tories, who regard crime as one of their strongest suits, hope that they could yet exceed expectations.

How much will PCCs be paid?

Commissioners will be paid a salary of between £65,000 and £100,000, depending on the size of their area and their "policing challenges". Those overseeing the West Midlands and Greater Manchester forces will be paid the top rate, while those responsible for the five smallest forces - Cumbria, Dyfed-Powys, Gloucestershire, Lincolnshire and Warwickshire - will receive the lowest rate.

Former deputy prime minister John Prescott is standing as Labour's police and crime commissioner candidate in Humberside.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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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