You may have seen those online questionnaires which calculate where on the political spectrum you are – not the fun ones, where you can find out which eighteenth century faction you’d have been in (High Church Tory, obviously), but the ones that gather your responses to a series of dogmatic assertions, generally about American politics.
You may not have seen – because I’m guessing the algorithm only pitches thus to single people – their latest adverts, which suggest that you should require potential partners to use this service before you meet. Why waste time on a coffee date with someone to whom you are not politically aligned? The questionnaire then performs the same function as civism certificates during the French Revolution, where a surveillance committee would make sure that you were politically orthodox, and were not guilty of moderatism or expressing sympathy for those who had been cancelled, whether Louis C.K. or Louis XVI.
It never used to be like this. Of course, political extremism has always been a red flag – although only extremism on the right. (Singing ‘The Red Flag’ is not a red flag.) Women have always been wary of men who know more about the Second World War than is normal for a straight Englishman, which is, admittedly, quite a high bar. I once went on a date with a girl who told me her birthday was 20 April, and immediately said ‘Like Hitler!’ I then had to spend the next ten minutes explaining that it was my father’s birthday as well, which was how I knew, and I didn’t, in fact, go to Führergeburtstag celebrations every year.
But now the political has become the personal. A recent survey showed that 60 per cent of young people would not date someone with different politics – only a third of those over 60 said the same. Even ‘non-political’ on a dating profile is a potential dealbreaker: it is seen (usually correctly) as code for ‘Conservative, but doesn’t want to limit his options’. You don’t necessarily have to send him a link to a questionnaire – even young Democrat women in the US seem to think this is a bit much – but you can do your research by seeing who he follows on social media or asking him for a recommendation for a podcast for your commute. Coffee dates now involve a more rigorous vetting process than becoming a Reform Party candidate.
To some extent, this is a reflection of people making connections online – instead of meeting people, you are filtering for a profile that satisfies as many of your criteria as reasonable, and so setting the criteria takes on a disproportionate importance – but that doesn’t explain why some issues have become dealbreakers. Last weekend, I was invited to stay at a girl’s flat – it was a third date (I’d taken her on two picnics), and she’d asked me to take an STD test, so I was pretty sure about the outcome. And then at one point she raised the subject of Israel; she could never, she said, be in a relationship with a Zionist. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t think about lying; but on the other hand, it was the week of my son’s Bar Mitzvah. I am not going to sell out the Jewish people just to get some action – I’m not Zack Polanski.
Coffee dates now involve a more rigorous vetting process than becoming a Reform Party candidate
To be fair to her – or perhaps unfair, I’m not sure – she didn’t really know what Zionism was. When I explained my position in simple terms – that yes, I think the state of Israel has the right to exist – she said, oh yes of course, but that’s not what people mean by Zionism. There appears to be Good Zionism – it’s quite nice if Jews have a place where they aren’t killed – and Bad Zionism, which is where Jews do horrible nasty things (to ensure they have a place where they aren’t killed). I did try telling a table at Friday Night Dinner that the ‘Zionism is Racism’ motion was about Bad Zionism and not Good Zionism; they were not convinced either.
There are philosophical differences which are difficult to overcome: I once dated a vegan, which meant I had to go to vegan restaurants because normal restaurants only ever have one plant-based option. Vegan restaurants, it turns out, never return the favour and have a solitary, depressing meat option at the bottom of the menu, which I always thought was dreadfully unfair. But your views on the Gaza conflict are never going to have any concrete effect on your life in the UK – which is perhaps why it has become such a litmus test. When there are no consequences to your beliefs – save perhaps choosing a different brand of hummus in the supermarket – they can function as signals. Is this online profile a Good Person or a Bad Person? Which of course you could work out in ten minutes if you met them for coffee – but who’s got time for that?
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