Tragedy at the highest level, amplified in the public domain by a ravenous media or by a great artist, can, in response, make us feel a little more humble.
In recognising the bad behaviour — and the consequences — we can be mindful of our own.
The ancient Athenians, who invented tragic drama, also understood that the bloodletting and conflict on stage, shared by the audience as an event once removed, reinforced a sense of community.
To those not involved, it is a public spectacle that can be gossiped about, debated and "appreciated" for the understanding it might bring us.
As the story around Jami-Lee Ross unfolded, my own political views were soon sidelined. What was happening transcended left or right. Any gleefulness at National's possible fall in the polls was quickly replaced by sadness, for everyone involved.
It's the kind of sadness felt after watching a particularly good movie or reading a compelling novel where things don't turn out well for the main characters.
Afterwards, I usually want to connect with my partner, my kids, the dog even. I appreciate what I have. A sense of peace descends on me that contrasts with the drama I've emotionally invested in.
Tragic theatre can remind us of the happiness and small pleasures we can derive from our ordinary lives. It's what it does for me, anyway.
Rather than tallying political points won or lost, I'll end by wishing everyone contentment in their domestic lives far from the public drama of politics and personal tragedy made public.
■ Vaughan Gunson is a writer and poet interested in social justice and big issues facing the planet.
