My problem with the polls

Chasing the polls hobbles the leadership we really need.

Jean Kabasomi

Jean is a consultant working with financial and Christian organisations. She also writes and broadcasts.

A graphic shows two political opinion poll questions and bar graphs.

Political opinion polls.

YouGov.

Recently reviewing the media’s coverage of the riots in the UK, I came across an article in The Telegraph that both surprised and annoyed me. It outlined an opinion poll conducted on the government’s response to the riots. It claimed that 49 per cent of the population were unhappy with the Prime Minister’s response to the riots.

Now, you might be wondering why I was annoyed by the article. For me, IF opinion polling is to be used it has three principal applications. First, it might be used to understand how people intend to vote in an upcoming election. Secondly, polling might be used to inform governments or public organisations. They might want to understand how a policy could impact the general populus or a specific group of people. Or measure whether a policy is having its intended impact or not. Lastly, polling might be used by a government to gauge how its overall programme is being received by the population it was elected to serve.

Polling, in my view, is not supposed to be used to ask the general public about the day-to-day functioning and decision-making of a recently elected government. Again, you might wonder - why does this matter?

Well, you don’t need to be a polling expert to know that trust in politicians in developed democracies around the world is at an all-time low. The prevailing view is that politicians are out for themselves, lack integrity, do not believe in anything in particular. They are happy to provide their opinion based on whichever way the wind is blowing.

The blame for this is often placed at the feet of those politicians. The argument is that the calibre of people choosing politics is far lower than it has been in previous generations. As such we have a group of leaders who do not believe in what they tell us. Others argue the toxic culture of social media, the overall decline in moral standards in Western democracies and the rise of the culture of the individual, also contribute to fewer common norms on moral expectations.

All of these are true and do intensify the situation we find ourselves in. But I think there might be a more fundamental problem that is rarely addressed. Instead of politicians getting on with the job they have been elected and therefore delegated to do, they are constantly trying to please people instead of serve people.

Politicians are having to constantly try and not say the wrong thing on social media or in a tough interview. They are, more and more being urged to respond to polls (often commissioned by the media) and the resulting stories about the day-to-day functioning of government. In any sphere of life, it is virtually impossible for any leader to make a good decision if they are constantly forced to question whether they are making the right decision not because it might harm the people they are leading or serving but because it might not be received well.

If we want the calibre of our politicians to improve, our current crop needs the freedom to govern, oppose and lead without the need to please us.

Both Jesus and St Paul spoke of the contrast in pleasing people instead of being led by God (or your convictions). Jesus said that you cannot serve two masters. You will either hate one and love the other or be devoted to one and despise the other. Here, the contrast in question is between money and God. But the principle remains the same. Politicians cannot govern effectively if they are trying to win a popularity contest at the same time.

This does not mean that politicians should not be held accountable. They should be able to explain and justify the policies and decisions they make within the confines of the system that they have been elected into. In the UK, this includes Parliament, engagement with constituents, in-person surgeries and meetings, party management, and dialogue and examination by the media. It should not include weekly polling data which seems to serve the purpose of generating cheap content and fleeting headlines. It prevents the politicians from taking difficult but necessary decisions and stifles debate on challenging topics.

If we want the calibre of our politicians to improve, our current crop needs the freedom to govern, oppose and lead without the need to please us. They need to feel compelled to serve us. Not only will this lead to better decision making but it will also encourage ‘stronger’ candidates to enter politics knowing that they have the freedom to contribute to a better society for all.

Snippet

America

Comment

Trauma

12 September 2025

3 min read

Why Charlie Kirk’s murder shook me so much

When violence hits close to home, we search for answers

Will Fagan

Will Fagan serves as a minister in the Episcopal Church in Birmingham, Alabama.

Mourning students at a vigil hold a sign about Charlie Kirk.

Students at Texas Tech hold a vigil for Charlie Kirk.

X.com/OldRowOfficial.

Unless you've managed to avoid all news this week, you’ll have heard of a series of unconnected violent attacks in the United States, the most recent being the assassination of 31-year-old conservative political activist Charlie Kirk during a speaking engagement at a university in Utah.

Every time there is a shooting in my country – whatever the motives – I become physically sick and had a similar reaction this week. I cannot watch the news; I delete social media and avoid the topic in conversation as much as possible. Our present and public culture of violence coupled with the resultant news cycle is simply too much, too fear-inducing, and leaves one with the helpless thought of, “what would happen if I was in a situation like this?” I’m sure I’m not alone in this response.

I do not agree with Kirk’s politics (though as an ordained minister, I wouldn’t tell you if I did), yet what I can tell you is that his death has gripped me in a way I couldn’t have foreseen, nor expected, becoming strikingly close to home. Kirk was 31 with a three- and one-year-old child. I am 32 with a three- and one-year-old. The idea that this could happen, period, followed by the thought of a prospect of never seeing my own children grow up completely undoes me.

This is undoubtedly a common response to when tragedy strikes individuals with whom we can readily identify. I doubt I have to list examples (were you 37 years old when Princess Diana died?; etc). because you’re probably thinking of certain instances right now in times where tragedy has hit, even metaphorically, quite close to home.

As I write this not from a gun control perspective, nor a political one at all, what is the theological answer to why events like this continue to happen? It is a question that I have been asked, unprovoked, by three young fathers (of diverse political persuasion) this week who have been gripped similarly to me.

What continues to come to mind is a blanket statement written by the Apostle Paul in his first century letter to the Galatian churches in which he calls the backdrop of our lives, “This present evil age.” It is a harsh statement, and it is unpleasant, but I also think it is true. How, you ask, can I apply this first century statement to 21st century life?

For one, Paul is writing about the time before Jesus Christ returns, a time that Christian teaching states that we presently occupy, so the statement does apply. But perhaps more importantly, when I look around, I confess that, especially in weeks like this one, “this present evil age” is an existence that I recognize. It is an existence that tragically we can largely expect, an existence that cannot be fixed politically, personally, or corporately as much as we would like to.

Rather than depressingly stripping us of agency, how is this helpful? I find it helpful in two key ways: First, this present evil age as a descriptor is helpful because it helps answer, “Why?” to my despondency, confusion, and nausea at senseless tragedy. It helps me put those feelings somewhere and begins to, if only slightly, give the nonsensical a name.

More than that, though, it forces me to look beyond this world, and to a power greater than the seen forces here – a power that I cannot see, a power that is good, merciful, and just, a power that will one day, and hopefully soon, make all things new.

Of course, we cannot make sense of senseless and violent and sickening tragedy. We weren’t meant to, and that is grievous. So might we only call on the name of the one who has come to this present evil age before, and that he might come again – soon.

Support Seen & Unseen

Since Spring 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,500 articles. All for free.
This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?

Do so by joining Behind The Seen. Alongside other benefits, you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing my reading and reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

Graham Tomlin
Editor-in-Chief

Pledge now.