This is the age of accusation, in which finger-pointing is the point of everything. No longer is it sufficient that the public sees a transgressor getting his just deserts before the law - his sin must be examined from every angle, and the sinner shamed in every conceivable manner, writes John Waters
We must have close-ups of the faces of wrongdoer and victim, to enable us to shudder at the pain of one and the shame of the other, and feel self-satisfied because we, being touched by neither, are free to judge. Much of what we read and hear in the media is concerned with unearthing some scapegoat, someone who has lied, evaded or drunk too much, or failed to show the correct level of remorse for lying, evading or drinking too much.
Why this is troubling is not that people are being punished, but that the public gaze, which once observed the wrongs and mistakes of others with an attitude of there-but-for-the-grace comprehension, now perceives such matters in terms only of blame. There is a sense, too, that due process has become secondary to the court of public opinion, officiated over by the media.
"Who's to blame?" has been the subtext of coverage of the Hutton Inquiry in London for two months. I stated before that it is a childish question, though this may be unfair to children. Understandings once normal in a seven-year-old can no longer be counted on in society at large.
Once, public opinion might have surveyed the events under scrutiny by Lord Hutton and concluded that life is sometimes very hard on people, for no particular reason. It might have been possible simultaneously to feel sympathy for both Andrew Gilligan and Alastair Campbell, two men whose extravagant egos have led them to a point where one, the other or both stand to be blamed for something neither could have foreseen.
The Hutton Inquiry, whatever its collateral benefits in drawing forth some of the pus that has gathered as a consequence of the changed nature of public life, was established because of the impossibility of addressing, with logic or coherence, the clamour for scapegoats arising from the fallout of the Iraq war and the death of David Kelly.
It was established by a prime minister accused of having Dr Kelly's blood on his hands. This was a preposterous charge, but, in the age of blame, the invocation of reason is not enough, and so the inquiry was established with a brief "urgently to conduct an investigation into the circumstances surrounding the death of Dr David Kelly", i.e. to demonstrate to public opinion something already obvious. Finger-pointing nothwithstanding, Lord Hutton's brief took as read that nobody was to blame for Dr Kelly's death.
The evidence has all been circumstantial. This does not render it invalid - there is room for common sense. But the common sense of the living is of limited use in divining the mindset of one who has ended his life.
Other than by indicting the imperfections of the human condition, Lord Hutton will be unable conclusively to link any of the evidence he has heard to the death of Dr Kelly.
He can decide that the MoD acted in a cold and cavalier manner, but what employer can claim always to do otherwise?
He may decide that Andrew Gilligan is a woeful journalist, but there is a club he must join. And so on.
And while the inquiry has been fascinating about many aspects of British public life, it has told us almost nothing about the central question: what went on in the mind of Dr Kelly as he embarked on his final, fatal walk? Lord Hutton can track the events of Dr Kelly's last days and hours only up to a point, and then can only gaze into the mystery of another man's pain.
We know virtually nothing about the final day David Kelly was alive.
It is possible that the events of the previous two months had minimal direct impact on the implosion of his soul.
His last e-mail to a colleague, a short time before he left home for the last time, said: "If all blows over I will be in Baghdad next Friday. Hope to see you shortly after that."
Prof Hawton, the consultant psychiatrist who gave evidence concerning his likely state of mind, believed that, when Dr Kelly was sending his last e-mails he had not yet formed the intention to kill himself.
Mr Dingemans, counsel for the inquiry, concluded last week: "Mrs Kelly's evidence was that Dr Kelly 'shrunk within himself' and her evidence related to their lunch together. In the early afternoon Dr Kelly decided to take his walk."
We end as wise as we began. Dr Kelly reached a point at which the terrors of life exceeded the terrors of death.
He killed himself. The rest is mere history.