By Wendy Harmer
Watching Monday's Q&A exchange between Australian Human Rights Commission President, Gillian Triggs and Speaker Bronwyn Bishop, I had one eye on the screen and the other on Twitter's #qanda feed as so many viewers do.
It didn't take long for the insults to start rolling in.
Illustration: Simon Bosch
Ms Bishop copped it. "A passive aggressive old aunt", "sour old fossil", "spitting venom", "superannuated gargoyle", "frightful old fogey". On and on it went. She had dementia, was a stunt-double for Cruella De Vil and there was the inevitable insult of "witch".
When I was moved to wave a feeble yellow flag and say I was enjoying the dialogue between the two well-credentialled women, or as one tweep put it: "Massive duelling brains, awesome", the reply was that Ms. Bishop was being a bully. Never mind that Twitter users were doing quite a lot of bullying themselves.
No doubt Ms Bishop sowed poisonous seeds by standing in front of that "Ditch the Witch" poster aimed at PM Julia Gillard with the then MP Sophie Mirabella and opposition leader, Tony Abbott. The infamous image will forever remain one of the lowest points in Australian politics. We're still reaping that bitter harvest.
However, at risk of sounding like one of those lecturing old aunts: "Just because Bronwyn did it, doesn't mean you have to do it too."
No point in wagging the finger, I guess. Twitter can be an awful rabble and I'm guilty of some robust exchanges, but on Q&A nights the forum descends to the level of a schoolyard brawl behind the shelter sheds.
I thought that, in the end, Ms Triggs gave an excellent account of the work of the commission and the point of its statutory independence was well made in the face of Ms Bishop's criticism. No insults required from the peanut gallery.
It's odd that in 2012 I also found myself sticking up for the other woman standing in front of that nasty poster, Ms Mirabella.
You'll recall the night on Q&A when Get Up! Boss Simon Sheikh collapsed and she sat, rooted to her seat, as Greg Combet rushed to help.
Twitter hyperventilated. Ms Mirabella was totally lacking in compassion was the instant, harsh condemnation. Later she said she'd been in shock and hadn't realised the gravity of the situation and Get Up! defended her stunned reaction.
I sometimes wonder why, as a tragic lefty, I've been moved to come to the aid of those on the other side of the political street. Not that I'd expect them know, nor care and rush to my side anytime soon if I were the victim of a similar pile up.
In 2002, I hosted the Logies and endured a mighty bollocking (I thank my lucky stars social media wasn't invented back then), and after that most public humiliation I remain inexorably drawn to any "stacks on the mill" rush to judgement.
I'm fairly resilient, but I always worry for the mental health of those caught in the eye of a media storm. Even high-profile people who you'd imagine to be bulwarked by money and minders, are glad for the message that asks: "So, how are you weathering it all?"
The latest rubbernecking is at the accident site of the sexist utterances of Nobel laureate British scientist, Tim Hunt. Fellow scientist and broadcaster, Professor Brian Cox, whilst agreeing Hunt's comments about women in science were "ill-advised", lamented "the wider problem of trial by social media."
Hunt was, said Cox " a good person and a great scientist," although at the age of 70, "slighty unreconstructed". High-profile feminists are now reversing the bandwagon, acknowledging that, this time, the reaction from the baying mob has been way over the top, resulting in Hunt's forced resignation from University College, London.
In his recent book So You've Been Publicly Shamed, British journalist Jon Ronson catalogued the experiences of those who've found themselves in the vortex, particularly on Twitter.
Critics of Ronson's book point out that a mere 100 million people worldwide log on to Twitter daily. Not much of a comfort because you'll most likely also end up on Facebook too which, if it were a country, would have as big a population as China.
You may, eventually, drop off Google's top search results, but the algorithm never forgets. It's sobering to reflect that we're all just a few idiotic words away from immortal ignominy.
In a review of Ronson's book in the Guardian, Rachel Cooke said of Twitter: "…it can be a terrifyingly blunt instrument, a cudgel not a scalpel. Wield it too enthusiastically, and the collateral damage is likely to be both grave and enduring."
She concludes: "A great renaissance of public shaming is sweeping our land. Justice has been democratised…We are using shame as a form of social control."
Back to Bronny and Sophie and my attempt to intervene as they were being mercilessly flogged on Twitter. Of course they're politicians and should be used to it, shouldn't they?
This was my second motivation for standing in the traffic. My father always wanted me to go into politics, and, after long consideration, I realise I just don't have the ticker for it, especially now. I admire all those women who do.
Maybe I'm one of those asylum seeker "compassionistas" so reviled by the right: "… the type you see in Q&A audiences and all too often on its panels."
A little more #compassion could go a long way.