Today the column inches will stretch to feet, yards, miles – infinitely longer than a single water balloon or brick can fly. The airwaves will crackle.
There will be news, there will be comment, there will be analysis on the collapse of democracy that occurred at the anti-water charge protest that hindered Joan Burton’s car in Jobstown at the weekend.
Despite their fleeting appearances, the brick and the water balloon will feature heavily.
Just one question to all of those breathless hacks painting dark pictures of the End of Days, caused by a violent mob of working and non-working class people in a Dublin suburb.
How many of you were actually there?
Because if you’re going to pontificate about the death of Irish democracy for thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, of readers or listeners, then I expect you to have dropped everything and headed for Jobstown.
It’s not that hard to find. There are busses, and failing that the taxi company on your speed dial will take you there swiftly.
But such is the laziness and insular nature of the long-distance columnist that it is easier to make pious declarations about democracy from a safe distance rather than take the risk of talking to people for whom “th” in any word is an optional extra.
In truth, there is no need for any journalistic foundation to a column about certain areas of the country – after all, what are they going to do? Complain?
But for me the front line is the only place to start.
Because if I see a man throwing a brick, my instinct is not to ascribe a motive to him, or to find out what a well-to-do person in Dublin 6 thinks.
My instinct is to ask him why.
Then my instinct would be to find out if he is representative of the greater mass of people.
And my instinct is, in this case, that he wasn’t.
If I was in Jobstown, the ultimate journalistic bounty that day would have been an interview with the brick-thrower – after all, who better to explain his actions than the man himself?
I’d ask him how he felt.
I’d ask him what he thought of the fact that his brick was likely to do more damage to the peaceful protestors than it ever was to the Garda car he aimed at.
I’d ask him if his slip as he made his getaway was a fitting metaphor for something else.
But based on his actions, the instinct of virtually everyone else in Irish media this weekend seems to have been to scream “MOB!!” and write long, pretentious articles about democracy that are completely without any sense of nuance, understanding or first-hand experience of the situation.
But that’s OK, because what are they going to do? Complain?
Write a letter to the editor that will never be published?
Call the radio show that screens out exactly the prevalent accent used in that part of the city?
During the riots here in Stockholm last year, more people were injured in the rush to condemn the violence than were ever in danger from the riots themselves.
Such condemnation serves nothing but the ego of the politician or journalist already well-served by the democracy they claim to be upholding – the one that depends on the votes and the purchases of working-class people, and then abandons them as soon as power is secured.
The kind of people who live in places like Jobstown, Neilstown, Coolock, Ballymun and Darndale.
The kind of people who voted for Joan Burton – who sat in that car – and then saw her completely betray the mandate they had given her.
If you want a real story about the collapse of democracy, it was sitting in the car, not rocking it or shouting at it.
That story is how an unelected four-person “economic management council” has, with the support and full active participation of Labour, set aside Ireland’s parliamentary democracy until further notice.
No, the only thing that ran riot in Dublin yesterday was the middle-class sensibilities of journalists and politicians confronted by the dawning realisation that it is too late, and the proles have had enough.
For the hacks, there is no point back-pedalling now.
So do not start with your own answers and then tailor the facts to fit, as currently seems to be best practice at the Irish Water Meter and on Water Meter FM.
Instead, put aside your pointless pontificating, go back to your basic journalistic training and ask the five Ws and one H that we all learned on our first day in class.
And of all those questions you should be asking, right now “why?” is the most important.
And from what I’ve seen in this morning’s papers and online, not one of you has asked it yet.