Events this week have been a salient reminder of this, as the personal and previously private details of Labour leader Chris Hipkins and his former wife were thrashed over in social media.
This is the sort of news story which might well not have run in mainstream media in the past, as reporters in the Press Gallery operated under an unwritten code that MPs’ personal lives were off-limits unless they began to overlap with their public role.
While some disapproved of that, accusing the media of being too cosy with those in power and suppressing information MPs did not want to be public, it also served to offer some informal protection for those unelected spouses and children who might otherwise have faced taunting, or worse.
The strength offered by the internet for freedom of expression is also its great weakness. Any ethical media outlet, when presented with an accusation, approaches the accused to check the veracity of the claim and seek a response . . . but someone posting or sharing on the internet has no such professional boundaries to abide by.
That, in turn, then creates issues for the media, as this situation clearly demonstrates.
If this story had centred on one briefly public then since deleted post, which contained nothing of an unlawful nature, it is quite possible it would not have been a story at all.
But that deleted post quickly took on a life of its own as various people, for whatever reason, made sure that it was shared as widely as possible, as rapidly as possible.
Few on Facebook were concerned with Mr Hipkins’ response — which was a swift denial.
This is a sin which afflicts all side of politics — the left was equally as quick to share memes about Prime Minister Christopher Luxon allegedly asking to be bestowed with a matai title, a claim which was later conclusively denied.
But what makes this situation different is that partners, parents and especially children are now in a glaring spotlight when they never sought to be, and under which they should not have to live their lives.
Mr Hipkins had to rush home from Australia to deal with a matter that should not have been on his to-do list but not for the first time and not for the last, social media had created a mountain where once a molehill barely stood.
He was candid, saying that the whole incident had made him question whether he wanted to stay in politics or not, and who can blame him? Scrutiny for a day or two by the media will be nothing compared to the relentless hounding Mr Hipkins will receive in cyberspace and on the campaign trail in the weeks and months ahead.
His predecessor as Labour leader, Jacinda Ardern, who was dogged by myriad false claims by trolls both when prime minister and still to this day, can testify to that. So can prominent politicians from all sides of the House who will have had to fend off catcalls or queries about the popular internet rumour of the day.
Compounding matters, such stories do not become tomorrow’s fish and chip wrapping. They persist and regularly resurface.
There is no easy answer to this. The rapidity with which the original post was spread by people who dashed to repeat it to make their own various political points would easily have defeated any existing legal avenues to have suppressed it. In this modern era there is no hope that people might demonstrate restraint, judgement, or think of the wider ramifications of their actions.
The great intangible in all this is what effect, if any, it will have on the general election in November.
This should be a contest between ideas and ideals, but it has the potential to descend into a clash of ideologies and perceived personal imperfections.
At a time of great global upheaval and domestic economic turmoil, is it personality or policies which should be driving political discourse?
While the former has always played a part in electoral politics, it feels like it is now clearly dominant over the latter. At a time of deep concerns, politics is becoming ever more shallow.
