You can see it in the facial expressions of our political leaders and hear it in the tenor and tone of their voices.
People across Westminster and beyond are stunned at the news of the murder investigation into the death of Ann Widdecombe. The sadness at the loss of a friend to many, magnified by the horror of what we were to later learn about its horrific circumstances.
The police have said they have “no information” to believe it is a “politically motivated crime”.
Nonetheless, in moments like this those in public life are reminded of their prominence and sense of vulnerability, not least after the murders, in the last decade, of the Labour MP Jo Cox and the Conservative MP Sir David Amess.
Widdecombe was an extraordinary character.
Sure, people would have strong views about her strong views – those strongly in agreement and strongly in disagreement.
When I presented Any Questions on Radio 4, which alongside the job I do now was the biggest privilege I have ever had professionally, she was one of my favourite panellists.
Every weekend, in front of a live audience in school halls, village halls, church halls and lecture theatres, I would get a sense of those guests – across the full spectrum of political views – who could connect with an audience.
Those who could provoke, challenge, engage and occasionally enrage; those who would compel people in the room to sit up and hold their gaze.
In other words, those most skilled in prosecuting what public life in a democracy is all about – being able to articulate, with clarity and conviction, what they stand for; to represent the essence of a listener’s own worldview, or perhaps the essence of its polar opposite.
Few of her words would wash over anyone – they would splash a listener in the face and demand a reaction.
Widdecombe was pugnacious, charismatic, barbed and yes, she had a sense of silliness too.
And she answered the question. I couldn’t, in all honesty, credit every guest with doing that.
