Or I sympathise with him, at least.

I’ve been thinking a lot over the past week the impact of our words upon the people we write about, and accordingly is and isn’t prudent to publish.

We’ve all bashed out an online diss at one point or another — snark is a core part of the currency by which we build relationships with one another online, amuse ourselves and others with our own cleverness, and engage in genuine arguments over our likes, dislikes and beliefs.

There can be good in that. But you’re an idiot if you think you can bitch about someone online these days without them finding out about it. And you’re an emotional dunce if you don’t think your words are going to have some impact on the person you’re writing about.

I’m not a Pollyanna by any means. Back in my student politics, I remember telling a highly diplomatic friend that I was sick of him saying everyone was “lovely” all the time, because sometimes people were just assholes, and he shouldn’t be afraid to acknowledge that. Similarly, sometimes websites or books or songs or magazine articles are crap, and pretty much everything and everyone has its strengths and weaknesses.

Should we hold back the truth simply because it might make someone a little sad?

Professionally, I’ve gone with “no”. It’s my job to write what I perceive to be true — sometimes diplomatically, other times not — and it’s also part of my job to accept that people will tear apart what I have to say in that capacity on the internet.

In my other online interactions (and I decided this before Jakob’s departure), I going to veer the other way, though — or at least sticking to attacking arguments rather than people, even if those people are anonymous internet users on the other side of the world who I’ll never meet.

Because, well, they’re still people, and I don’t want to be the cause of someone else’s pain.