YOU could almost see Emily Maitlis’s fingerprints on Theresa May’s face after the stinging Friday night slap was administered. Across the country viewers cheered, some were stunned. At the very least, a very curious eyebrow was raised.

We’re speaking figuratively of course of Maitlis’s Newsnight interview in the wake of the Kensington fire tragedy, but the moment made its mark.

The usual deference given to PMs went out the window faster than a disturbed burglar. Rarely has the nation seen a journalist attack a senior politician armed not just with a list of demanding questions but a searing contempt.

Maitlis pushed relentlessly for answers; “Where were you for two days? Why didn’t you speak to the locals? Where was the army? When will people be re-housed?” All valid questions, which were deaf-eared, TM returning time and time again to her press release line.

Then came the stinger. “They shouted coward at you when you left St Clements, Prime Minister.”

This wasn’t a question; it was a public shaming. And while it was not the expected comment it was apposite; Maitlis’s question refracted popular feeling. “Did you misread the public mood?” demanded the Newsnighter, her eyes focused, if slightly tremulous.

The interviewer’s tone, her rawness, suggested she was taking it all very personally. But it begs the question; should journalists allow emotion to come into play during an interview? Can there still be objectivity when such obvious subjectivity is revealed? And in revealing emotion, do journalists make themselves part of the story?

The BBC recently ran a report containing details of a new survey which suggested young people don’t wish to see balance in journalism. Clearly influenced by social media they want strong, singular opinion, not anodyne see-sawing from journalists who are more neutral than Belgium.

There’s little doubt reporting is changing in style. ITV anchor Tom Bradby, for example, has altered news presentation with his drop-intros casualness which often leads to a more personal commentary. Indeed, his editorialising has attracted criticism from traditionalists such as Sir Trevor MacDonald. In America, Fox News offers up a Tea Party ethos and Trump support. Meanwhile, the Washington Post has no qualms about labelling its President a liar.

Where do newspapers stand in taking sides? Given the fact news emerges from so many disparate sources these days there is more of a need for unique voices, (even if the voice is the often rabid in the form of commentators such as Katie Hopkins).

You could argue journalism has long unleashed the howling wolf. Gonzo reporting in the Sixties, offered up by the likes of Hunter S. Thompson and Tom Wolfe, set new styles and standards in which the individual’s perspective not only coloured but formed content.

But if there is editorialising, or if we can see the contempt in the eyes of the interviewer, can we trust the process? Jeremy Paxman was famous for being dogged and often insouciant and at times dismissive of his subjects, as was Sir Robin Day. Andrew Neil can be aggressive and reveal a battling quality that reflects his Paisley upbringing. Yet, they’ve never looked as though they wanted to crush the interviewee underfoot.

Well, we can. If Maitlis were arguing her own case she would contend that few journalists have ever been faced with a politician so seemingly removed from the responsibility that goes with such a tragedy.

After 9:11, New York’s Mayor Guiliani said: “I had to communicate with the public to do whatever I could to calm people down and contribute to an orderly and safe evacuation of lower Manhattan. While mayor, I made it my policy to see with my own eyes the scene of every crisis so I could evaluate it first-hand.”

The PM didn’t follow Rudy Guiliani’s example. Theresa May may well have felt major grief at the news of the Grenfell fire but she didn’t show it.

Maitlis clearly picked up on this. You could see anger, frustration in her face. But it didn’t mean she wasn’t doing her job. Her voice was representational. If anything, she could have gone further and demanded; “Prime Minister, why do you refuse to answer the questions I’m putting to you and in effect worsening your position?”

Maitlis’s questioning was laced with emotion, but it was measured. Her questions distilled a nation’s anger, gave it an outlet. She was uncompromising and ultimately the result was revealing.

And you could argue it was necessary. This is an era of fake news. The media is constantly be harangued by politicians, in an attempt to shape and control, to set the agenda, to set parameters for discussion. To get the answers, the journalist has to pull out all the stops, even if the result is an unleashing of raw emotion.

French writer Marguerite Duras once declared; “Journalism without a moral position is impossible. Every journalist is a moralist.” Maitlis is a moralist. And as such, the face slap was well deserved.