“What animal does this politician remind you of?” “Which of these future prime ministers would you go for a drink with?” “What item of clothing is this person?” The questions posed to focus groups would really tell voters, if they cared to listen, what the so-called metropolitan elite thinks of them. That they’re idiots.
This isn’t to say that there is no point talking politics to regular people. You can learn really useful things when you actually listen, especially when multiple voices spontaneously make the same point. But the process generally lacks the trust and patience. Why wait for people to have their own ideas, when you could get to your weird destination much faster by asking which candidate’s nose looks more leaderly?
Anyway, the most recent adventure in temperature-taking was with 10 swing voters who all voted Conservative in 2019. According to the Times, Rishi Sunak reminds people of a ferret; Liz Truss is a budgie, but also a bunny rabbit and Jemima Puddle-Duck. Some of it just sounds like free association (lame duck to puddle-duck). Some comparisons sound a bit panicked, as you would be if someone asked for a quick answer to a dumb question: Sunak, what does he remind you of, with his funny pointy teeth? Er … What else has teeth? Other times, it’s just blatantly sexist: budgies, rabbits, these are no more than classic cartoon chatterers, silly aunts. All people are really saying with these comparisons is: “I prefer women when they’re not talking.”
Besides, what is a politician supposed to do with this information? So the public comes back and says you remind them of an otter; what next? Do you lean in and be more otter? Do you try to create subliminal associations with a sea lion?
The “Who would you go for a drink with?” question, known in the US as “the beer question” (here, the beer is implied) is meant to be definitive: it’s a test of likability, and whoever is most liked always wins. It is often criticised for being culturally skewed towards a drinking culture, and (in the US, at least), implicitly sexist because you’re more likely to find men in bars. A way bigger problem is, what can this possibly tell us, when you would rather die of thirst than go for a drink with any of them? Sunak edged it on this particular occasion, even though he is teetotal and more likely to buy himself a swimming pool than buy you so much as a scampi-flavoured fry, and, judging from their other, less structured answers, the panel was aware of this.
So, the interesting thing was Sunak not in one-word answers, but in people’s own words. If you go to a building site in £490 suede shoes, it makes you look so rich that you’ve “no respect for money”, said one. Another participant – different age, different income bracket, different gender – said: “If you are going to an area where … people are on the minimum wage, don’t wear £500 shoes.” Commentators have been pounding these streets since the contest began, telling everyone that there’s no such thing as “too rich to be PM”, that wealth is just another strand of identity and as such has to be approached neutrally, like race or sexuality. Turns out you can lead the “red wall” to the Kool-Aid but you cannot make it drink. They’re trying to tell you something, pollsters. But, will you listen, or will you just add a new formula for next time: “What shoes can you imagine this person wearing to a building site?”
The Conservative party has been delivered to this fix by groupthink and overconfidence. They are pretending to present to the membership: a Boris-continuity candidate, Liz Truss; and a clean skin, Rishi Sunak. But, Truss is nothing like Boris Johnson. She is nothing like him politically, because he had no politics and hers are batshit, and she’s nothing like him personally, which is more or less the only thing you can say to her credit. Sunak, meanwhile, has been chancellor for three years; ain’t nobody need a vampire to tell them that’s not fresh blood. But, never mind all that; does either of them remind you of a lion?
Zoe Williams is a Guardian columnist
