I'm nauseated by the media orthodoxy that demands a sepulchral voice and near-to-tears mien in all public discourse on death. Geoff Robinson on Morning Report has it down perfectly. I've posted before on Kathryn Ryan's aptitude to it. 

When it extends to the "tragedy" of boozed young men killing themselves in street racing, or in the course of escaping from the Police, it cries out for mockery. When the sympathy extends to those killed while committing crimes where there are real victims, there must still be thousands of New Zealanders not yet infected with the maudlin germ, who want to bawl "good riddance!".

I keep meaning to ask broadcaster friends whether they see affecting grief as simply a professional skill and requirement, or do they manage to emote themselves into feeling as maudlin as they sound.

Whatever the case, what a relief to find in Chris Trotter's blog his wonderful essay on stoicism, prompted by reactions to the  recent Iroquois crash. Indeed Chris seems to be in a lush patch at the moment, with penetrating reflections on the new wowserism, and National's engagement with Maori Party racism. His last three essays (up to 29 May) are all worth reading.

Chris seems to me to be a walking Manichean dilemma. His penetrating mind, love of history and ability to avoid the piffling emotional incontinence of many of his  struggle comrades makes him acutely aware of their failings and dishonesties.

That 'outsider' consciousness may in part spring from youthful hyper-sensitivity to class. The habit of  looking behind every curtain and questioning every orthodoxy, including those of his nasty leftist mates, may be the unavoidable (for him) consequence of long practice. I think that for many leftists the habit of 'outsider' objectivity starts as envy or even rage at feeling shut out by what they think is a gilded in-crowd who would never let them in.  

Class envy has generated the energy to propel many on the left into a life-long compensating battle to get even. By the time they find out that there is always entry if you are sufficiently amusing or smart, the habit has formed.

But Chris can not quite take the risky last step of the many others who start on the left but eventually see the unavoidable connection between collectivist fantasy and tyranny. He is no Paul Johnson.

When he sees where his own intelligence is leading him, he runs back home, to the comfort of "knowing" that deep down the noble convictions of his youth still provide the comfort of a compass he can not afford to lose, even if it has no magnetism left and the others who still follow it spin wildly in the presence of any stray electricity.