We have come to expect many things from public figures in Western democracies. We make many demands of them, perhaps more than any previous civilization has ever done. We want our politicians to tell self-deprecating jokes as well as deliver inspiring speeches. We want our Presidents to show emotion in the face of tragedy as well as bravery in the face of danger. We want our political celebrities, like our entertainment celebrities, to reveal details of their lives so intimate that we would not demand as much of our closest friends. We follow their activities on television and via the Internet 24 hours a day. We know when their marriages are failing, when their children are in trouble and when they have financial difficulties. And if they happen to die, suddenly or tragically, we react with the kinds of emotions that we would normally reserve for people we know extremely well. Because we do know them extremely well, or at least feel as if we do.

Twice in my life, I have found myself close to the tragic death of a public figure, once as a journalist and once as a politician’s wife. The first tragedy was the car crash that killed the Princess of Wales in Paris in 1997. Although I did not know her, at the time of her death I was a political columnist for the London Evening Standard, an afternoon tabloid whose editors had a lively interest in royal affairs, and who duly threw themselves into coverage of the mass mourning in London.

The second tragedy, more recent and more serious, was the death of the President of Poland and several dozen other Polish politicians this past April in a plane crash in Smolensk, Russia. This time I did know many of the 94 victims. Some were friends, and almost all were colleagues and acquaintances of my husband, who is the Polish Minister of Foreign Affairs.

At the most obvious level, these two events are not remotely alike. At the time of her death, Princess Diana held no official status in Britain. She was divorced from Prince Charles and had been deprived of her royal title. She was better known for her clothes than for her political views, and she did not die while undertaking any form of public service. She was in Paris with her new boyfriend, Dodi Fayed, the son of the owner of Harrods, and was speeding away from paparazzi when her car crashed.