Polls. Think about it.

Of course

“Almost half (48%) of Leave voters told the survey of 5,578 adults that they ‘almost never’ trust the government to put the needs of the country above those of their party, up 23 points since 2020.” (The Guardian newsletter, 13 June 2024, referencing the British Social Attitudes Survey.)

Image: Harold Pinter

A year ago, my doorbell rang. Standing there was a man with a tablet device. “Good morning, I’m conducting a survey and wondered whether you’d care to take part.” Interesting, but I really had no time. “No problem, I can come back if you wish.” Such is the worth placed on a ready participant: they’re so rare that pollsters will arrange their diaries around you. “Not before the weekend,” I replied. It was noted and I closed the door.

On Saturday, the doorbell went again, and there was the same gentleman as had been there during the week. My time pressures had not let up, but I felt a pang of guilt. Not before the weekend had, in my mind, implied not at the weekend either. More after the weekend. Armed with this belated clarification, the pollster retreated and reappeared during the ensuing week. “Come in,” I said, “Let me make you some tea.”

He explained what the survey was about, it was a general overview of satisfaction and concerns in the field of government, by the state and by the European Union. The survey was comprehensive, regarding many areas of business, social life, governance, trust, future prospects and aspirations. It was detailed. In each case, he called up the question on his tablet device and, after the first few, for which he read out the possible answers, I just read them for myself and then chose a response.

What struck me with some of the questions, especially where they succeeded each other within a certain section, was that the wording of a subsequent question seemed almost to anticipate a given answer to the previous question in that section. I cannot remember the exact wording, but this would not be far off the mark:

1. Do you mistrust politicians? Yes / No

2. Is this because of recent scandals headlined in the newspapers? Yes / No

Clearly, question 2 only makes any sense if I answered “yes” to question 1 (unless the implication was that I might trust politicians because they get involved in scandals). Things like that. There were even points at which the questioning became facile and useless, simply because, for instance, I didn’t think that a certain factor had an effect on a certain aspect of my life. Does painting the ceiling affect the way in which you view how drains are cleaned? Er, no.

Well, okay, not that facile, but parts of the questionnaire were clearly crafted in order to provoke a response of a nodding head and the words, “Why, of course!” Which suggests to me that whoever was asking the questions already knew the answers, but still retained a shred of honour in not actually wanting to make up the numbers of people who answered a particular question in a particular manner.

When we had finished, the pollster thanked me for my time (and for the tea and biscuits). At one point, my house mate had come in, politely greeted the gentleman, made his dinner and eaten it in the kitchen, washed up and returned to his room, and we’d still been busy with the survey. It was dark by the time we finished. We had been sat at my dining table for about two-and-a-half hours. Luckily the gentleman did not have far to go. Only about five miles up the road. I went to show him out.

“This must be very tiring for you. Two-and-a-half hours! Tell me, how long does the average response time take?”

“Twenty-three minutes.”

He’d not measured it, clearly: it’s what the polling organisation had told him. His face was not what I’d call hostile, but it was dead pan. Mine bore a look of surprise. Well, he turned up three times for the session; I didn’t want him going home without getting his money’s worth.

It was true, having palmed him off twice at the door, I’d thought If we’re going to do this, let’s do it properly. But I’d also thought Doing it properly means understanding the question, and giving an answer that is true and accurate. A lot of them concerned matters that I had a view on, but which I hadn’t actually contemplated in order to express that particular view. They needed thinking about. Some of the options had been cannily similar, with only slight differences. If it’s any excuse, the whole thing was conducted in Dutch, which is only a second language to me. Perhaps that’s why my survey took so long.

Or perhaps I thought too much about the questions. However, I suppose it’s just possible that I thought precisely as long about the questions as the questions needed thinking about. Perhaps the survey was conducted not to elicit considered, rationalised answers, but to get the automatic responses that lie on the tips of everyone’s tongues. Like some ink-blot test, or a word-association game: European. Union. Carbide. Gas. Jews. Gaza. Genocide. ICJ. Finkelstein. Finkelstein?

Norman Finkelstein had absolutely no confidence that Israel might be called to account for itself before the International Court of Justice. When, still in October 2023, the possibility was mooted, he dismissed it as a fantasy. With something akin to of course not!, if not those precise words. You can find the expression of course in my writings elsewhere on this blog. I tend to use it ironically. Of course, I do. Or to explain the blindingly obvious. That means something you really ought to have subliminally understood, of course. But I never use it as a straight answer to a straight question. I don’t believe there are straight answers to straight questions (and, even if you give one, the other guy will inevitably ask himself What does that mean?). To answer a question with of course is to demean the questioner. It carries a suggestion of how else could it be? and even of what a fool you are.

Professor Finkelstein was therefore astounded when South Africa lodged its action against Israel before the ICJ and, what is more, he freely admits he was wrong. There is a hint of him bragging that he was right to be wrong, but we’ll sweep that under the rug. The simple conclusion is that it has taken seven months for his view to settle on what his view now is. And he knows he was wrong in his initial assessment.

When a body like the National Centre for Social Research conducts a survey like the British Social Attitudes Survey, they will—of course—publish the results. But what they don’t publish—likely because they don’t know—is with what conviction each answer was given. How quickly the answer tripped off the respondent’s tongue. Whether two-and-a-half hours elapsed before the respondent’s responses were responsibly recorded.

Any actor who has ever played Harold Pinter knows that a good proportion of the text in that writer’s plays is silence. They even have a name for it: Pinterian pauses. By Harold Pinter’s way of it, the time you take to ponder a response

…

can be almost as important as the response itself.

…

…

…

Of course.