Now that you mention it, prime minister, I did have a twinge of sympathy for Raoul Moat the other day. Two, actually, though I didn't post them on Facebook.
As you say, he did horrible things out of self-pitying and uncontrolled anger, but no one likes to see a human being hunted in that way.
Clearly Moat was dangerous and had to be captured – one murder and two life-threatening attacks, one of which cost PC David Rathband his sight – but the scale and media-frenzied tone of the police hunt made me uncomfortable.
Then there was that 47-page letter he wrote, the one the newspapers printed at length. No father that he knew of, at odds with his mother, estranged from his kids and the girlfriend he had abused but decided was the one for him, it was a mess.
But Moat came across as an intelligent man trying to make sense of life without the right tools at his disposal and an unhelpful dose of paranoia.
I imagine a lot of people can identify with much of that – mainly misogynistic men by the sound of it – and that's why they left flowers at the spot where he died and left messages which I have no desire to read on Facebook, a 30,000-strong tribute group, according to the Mail's account: "RIP Raoul Moat, You Legend".
Not nice and the usual suspects rushed to demand that Facebook take down the page. At PMQs yesterday, where I thought David Cameron sounded in need of his holiday, the Tory MP Chris Heaton-Harris wound the boss up.
It prompted Cameron's "callous murderer, full stop, end of story" reply which so offended Tanya Gold in today's Guardian. Watching in the press gallery I thought, "that's tomorrow's splash story in the Daily Mail". And so it was. Us regular readers know our product and one thing we know is that the Mail's impassioned defence of good old British liberty is a highly selective one (though it's not alone in that).
But the Mail – and Cameron – miss the point of Facebook and the wider online community, much as Tony Blair and Gordon Brown did when they encouraged voters to run campaigns on the No 10 site to change the law. What did they expect? Flower arranging classes?
Alas, if things aren't illegal – no one has the free speech right to shout "fire" in a crowded theatre and cause a panic – then we should all be allowed to say them, even if they're not very nice. Facebook apparently told complaining MPs that the expression of views may be therapeutic.
That's what I say when commenters on the blog abuse me in rabid or ignorant terms – though I must admit it seems to be quite a slow form of therapy that does not yield results overnight.
Like all prime ministers, Cameron has discovered the power he has to say a few remarks – possibly crafted in advance – that will generate headlines. So do No 10 spokesmen. It is a power to be used sparingly and responsibly – as Blair and Alastair Campbell discovered to their cost – because voters quickly tune out of motor-mouth stuff.
When Gus O'Donnell was No 10's man I used to admire his refusal to play that game. Gus is now Sir Gus and head of the civil service: GO'D to the troops.
By the same token I respect Facebook's refusal to be pushed around by child sex grooming panic buttons and other fashionable alarms. It's a wonder kids grow up at all these days, they are surrounded by such anxiety. Yet most of them are quite safe from the Raoul Moats of this world, who tend to be within the family – not out there on the street.
Today's Mail accuses Facebook of "displaying a shameful record of moral indifference to its contents", a spot of kettles and pot calling if ever I read one. The paper is brilliant at packaging up prurient filth which, alas, I rarely have time to read, but suspect impressionable teenagers do whenever mum forgets to hide it on top of a high cupboard.
A brawny working man with whom I shared an exchange yesterday remarked as we both watched TV photos of PC Rathband's shotgun-peppered face that he "couldn't care less if the police used unauthorised Taser guns to bring Moat down. They could have used a pick axe as far as I'm concerned".
I sympathised with the sentiment, even as I felt sorry for Moat, the hunted man living, as he put it, in a dream-like state where nothing was reality except the likelihood of his own death. We all recognise conflicting feelings. The police had a difficult job, made harder by the enthusiasm for the hunt displayed by 24/7 media which is routinely unforgiving of operational failure – except its own. When did you last read an apology for building up England's World Cup hopes in South Africa?
But sharpshooters, armoured cars from Belfast, heat-seeking aircraft, the police certainly did not enter into the Cameron-led coalition's spirit of restraint in their efforts. A pity that Moat may well have been in a culvert beneath their feet, but these things happen and the hunt ended with no more innocents dead or injured.
The figure who comes out of this conspicuously well is PC Rathband. Despite life-changing injuries he says he harbours no hatred and is keen to get back to work. Lucky indeed is the man who can rise to cruel adversity in such a way. Moat was not such a man and – despite everything he did – surely deserves a little pity.
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