Mal Fletcher comments on how the British public treat high profile figures.

While a restless undercurrent of wariness and weariness undergirds our attitudes to political elites, Jo Cox was one MP who clearly knew how to connect with and impact even casual acquaintances.

There is, of course, an added sadness within this story - that the alleged killer appears to have a history of mental health issues. Whether or not he shouted "Britain first" before slaying Ms Cox, as some witness reported, it appears at the time of this writing that Tommy Mair's alleged actions cannot be associated with any recognised political position. Neither the EU referendum nor political debates in general are, as far as we are aware, the central narratives here. This is about a human and national tragedy, not a political statement.

Yet Mr. Mair's alleged actions, driven though they apparently were by illness, might serve as an extreme example of what can happen if we build too close a link between personal grievances, real or imagined, and public figures whom we've never met.

In the UK, complaining about politicos and their dearth of problem-solving skills is a national pastime. Doubtless the criticism is often deserved.

Yet ours is no longer a world in which national effects are almost always directly related to decisions made by people in easily identifiable positions of power.

The forces of globalisation are at work in politics, economics, business, trade and much more. They bring undoubted benefits, but they also muddy the waters when it comes to who is politically responsible for what.

This is, of course, largely what the EU referendum debate is about - political, legal and economic sovereignty. The EU is one manifestation of globalisation and trans-nationalism.

On one side, globalisation is a boon to national and personal progress and aspiration. It creates global markets and opportunities for mass innovation, travel and dialogue. Its flip side, however, can create in an electorate feelings of powerlessness beyond which be the dragons of frustration and fury.

We elect officials to carry out our wishes. They set out to achieve those wishes - or whatever version of their party's manifesto most closely resembles them.

Over time, though, individual politicians and party collectives find that regional and global forces often push things in a different direction. To us their electors, this looks at the very least like abject failure on their part. At worst, it smacks of an arrogant disregard for our intentions. In fact, the reasons are usually more complicated.

In the sound-of-mind, anger with political outcomes can be a helpful emotion, helping us to push back against injustice. But if we're unwilling to manage our emotions and to act with self-awareness and control, fury can lead to a careless lashing out at the softest or most convenient targets.

In a nation where, thankfully, political and other leaders can still move freely among us, public figures are among the softest of soft targets. What could be easier than venting a sometimes ill-defined rage against members of a class many see as cynical manipulators, self-promoters and moral vacuums?

What's more, in a globalised village of social media, where the mob assumes guilt before innocence, public figures can be vilified without cause, without end and without an opportunity for recourse.

The online bile thrown at parliamentarians - particularly women - is indicative perhaps of a sizeable micro-culture that's now emerging. It is a milieu within popular culture in which anyone in public life is assumed to have willingly foregone his or her rights to respect or common decency.