The cloud of moral outrage descended over Ireland faster than one of the storm fronts which feature all too often on RTÉ's evening weather reports. It obscured the most significant rugby result of last weekend – Italy's historic home win over a South Africa side that has dramatically lost its way – and allowed the Australians to set up base in Ireland all but ignored.

Over the course of 80 minutes, after an exceptional, riveting game of rugby between Ireland and New Zealand and a few choice words and insults which ricocheted around the interested sections of the globe within minutes, a war of mutual contempt had broken out between the rugby fraternities of both countries.

The Aussies must have been tickled pink. When the dust settled and the cloud cleared and attention gradually began to return to today’s Test against the Australians, nothing had been proven except what we already know: when rugby is played at full tilt by elite athletes, it is a compelling spectacle. And it’s also prone to unaccountably dangerous – even life-threatening – moments. The game itself – its laws and its officiating – takes a gamble on the welfare of its participants.

If you look at the body language of the New Zealand players in the seconds after the final whistle, it’s clear that they are relieved and fairly happy with themselves. They didn’t behave like athletes who felt as if they had conceded to cheap shots – to illegal violence – in order to suppress the Irish effort. They had redeemed what they obviously regarded as a catastrophic systems failure against Ireland over in Chicago and had done so without allowing their try-line to be breached.

It's one of the first thing coach Steve Hansen alluded to in his post-match interview with RTÉ's Clare McNamara. "We had to get our defence right and stop them scoring five tries against us," he said when asked about the lessons New Zealand had taken from that defeat in Chicago. "So it was nice to keep them scoreless and I guess that was the difference in the game – three tries to none."

There is something old world about Hansen as a coaching figure: in his customary black tie and white shirt and formal black coat, he has the look of an empathetic but no-nonsense undertaker. He is polite but the clipped bluntness of his answers makes it clear that there is a line over which he expects the conversation not to cross. He is the record-winning coach of arguably the most formidable unit in team sports: that gives him an aura.

So he was clearly irritated by the fearless and fair line of questioning he received from McNamara. In Chicago, Hansen said the right things about the Irish win and repeated them when he came to Dublin. Now, minutes after a vital win in Dublin, he was being asked not about the virtues of the All Blacks spellbinding final try or the stunning speed with which Beauden Barrett has made the world forget about the Carter guy who used to wear number 10. Instead, he found himself fielding questions about New Zealand’s penalty count and about whether there was a “dangerous” element to some of the All Black tackles.

The next minute was wonderful television because Hansen was provoked and engaged into departing from the sort of post-match analysis he could deliver in his sleep, immediately justifying the tackles on Robbie Henshaw and Simon Zebo. When further pressed, he himself chose to ask the rhetorical question which, in a way, made it open season on questioning New Zealand's approach to the game. "Do you want me to say we're a dirty side or something? Is that what you're saying?"

McNamara wasn’t, but all over the country, in pubs and on living-room sofas and in the Aviva stadium and on social media, people were saying all that and more. The reason that the interview was so significant is that it stood on the fault line of the wildly varying perspectives of the competing countries. The Irish rugby commentariat and fan base was understandably disheartened and concerned to see a procession of Ireland’s marquee players leaving – and in one case carried – from the field of battle.

The match was shockingly intense from minute one and the engagement from both sides just deepened from there. By minute 60, it was difficult to know how many of them had the energy left to remain standing. Rugby is, as Hansen reasoned, “a shifting game”. The ball-handling is getting better by the year and the use of strike-runners coming at speed from unexpected angles is the only way to break through the hard-hitting, highly organised defences.

Rugby players are paid to make tackles. It’s their job to hit. Both Ireland and New Zealand did it brilliantly at the weekend and with a level of commitment that went far beyond the required demand of mere professionalism: the contest was encased in an atmosphere of primal, national pride. The rationale and intent behind the controversial tackles can be argued all day long. Only the players concerned know what they meant and didn’t mean to do.

If Ireland and New Zealand share any trait, it’s that they are prickly-sensitive when it comes to how they are perceived. It’s understandable: both are small countries. All Black rugby is New Zealand’s international badge of identity. To question its honour – as has happened all week in Ireland– is to guarantee an outraged response.

Supposing it had been the other way around: had Ireland beaten the All Blacks and in doing so had one of their players carried off with concussion and two more going through concussion protocols, would the Irish players in question have been criticised here? Not in a million years. Instead, the language would have been different – “not condoning but the level of commitment”, “laying their life on the line” etc etc.

In the chorus of accusation and counter-accusation, the greater point has been lost. Rugby, as a professional sport, is a business and an entertainment. In its amateur era, it tolerated and even romanticised an undertone of violent conduct which has largely been eradicated in the professional age. But the tackling is becoming more and more ferocious. Some of the high-speed collisions are thrilling when they are perfectly executed but make you wince when they don’t.

It’s only when a strong, supremely conditioned athlete is laid out cold on the pitch that all of us remember that the players out there are just flesh and bone: that they have their limits. Rugby is a game fussy when it comes to rules but it is governed by interpretation. The burden of expectation placed on referees – often the most talked-about participants in post-match analysis – has become ridiculous.

The players are getting stronger and faster and the worst/best of the tackles are becoming uncomfortable to watch. It may be true that rugby has never been more exciting. But when rugby takes its brightest and best into the place that last week’s game took us all, you have to ask if the players are being exploited by the game and if the rest of us are complicit by cheering them on.