It's time to get angry.
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There was never any doubt that coronavirus would arrive - that much was certain. What the government could control was what happened next. Two simple paths lay open: look tough or be tough. So which response did our politicians choose, almost without exception, at the federal and state level? The worst choice possible: a little bit of each.
You don't need to be an epidemiologist or forensic scientist to understand just how this disease has not simply spread, but become embedded in the fabric of the country.
COVID-19 was always on its way to the airport. The big bonus, which lasted for months, was that it hadn't booked a ticket or found its way to a seat on a plane. This offered a wonderful chance to staunch and control the inevitable spread of the virus. A simplistic approach - like that taken in China, where people were simply locked in their houses - was never going work here. Something else would be needed. The key was to capitalise on our huge advantage: time to prepare.
Arresting COVID-19 would depend, critically, on three things. Combating the spread of the disease with accurate information, encouraging individuals to act responsibly and then, when necessary and only as a last resort, taking action to protect the community. So what happened?
Both federally and at the state level, governments are revealing an incompetence almost breathtaking in scope. Their responses are informed by gut feeling and driven by spin. How else could an intellectual response to a serious public health issue get trashed until it's nothing more than a puerile debate about how a doctor (whose daughter happens to be a music star) treats his patients and whether a health minister should resign? Watching a state government in action is never pretty - it is human nature at its most raw and venal level, egoism unencumbered by intellect and powered by the unconscious urges of the playground.
Incredibly, we're still maintaining a ban on Chinese students, even though Italians (and Americans) from infected areas are free to visit.
Instead of acting to protect us, our politicians have engaged in something entirely novel: the public relations response to disaster management. No danger is too acute; no problem so great it can't be harnessed for momentary advantage.
What's shocking is that everything had seemed to begin so well. What we didn't understand, as news of the virus spread from Wuhan, was that the seeds of the government's eventual botched response would be buried inside the government's actions.
COVID-19 was on its way to the airport, even though it hadn't booked a ticket. The disease would, eventually, land. What was needed was a breathing space; time to erect barriers so we could trace the spread of the virus, time to prepare defences for the most vulnerable, and finally time to get the message out so people would be ready for the challenge.
Instead our immediate response was informed by a deep, almost unconscious, racism.
Chinese visitors were banned. This was understandable, even if they weren't from Wuhan and hadn't been exposed to the virus. The same with Iranians. But then the virus spread to Italy, and suddenly the politicians said this was, somehow, different. Incredibly, we're still maintaining a ban on Chinese students, even though Italians (and Americans) from infected areas are free to visit.
Then there's wilful medical ignorance. We know the virus usually takes more than 24 hours to demonstrate symptoms, so when a schoolkid comes down with the disease you'd expect an environment where people are constantly touching each other to close. Not, however, in NSW. There, the Education Department has made only the most ineffectual, token effort to halt the spread of COVID-19. After just a brief, one-day shutdown, everyone gets the chance to come in, share the bubblers, and spread germs all over again. And this in an institution of learning! The incompetence is breathtaking.
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Thirdly, there's a failure to take even the most minimal civil defence precautions to slow the spread of the virus. Where is the massive government advertising campaign, so we all know exactly what the symptoms are, what steps we should take to minimise transmission, and who is most at risk? It only took minutes for Scott Morrison to boast of his prowess in calling out troops to fight bushfires (for which he's been rightly called out by Defence Chief Angus Campbell), so where's the up-to-date information about the coronavirus? Instead our televisions are filled with vision of unedifying squabbling and punch-ups over toilet paper.
When people instinctively feel they can't trust government to ensure that even something as basic as this keeps unrolling, it's obvious the country has a much bigger problem than just halting the virus. Then, yesterday, when the government finally shook itself out of its torpor of inaction, what did it do? It spent money, lots and lots of it. It won't save anyone from the virus, but at least voters who survive will feel good.
It didn't have to be this way. Compare our response to Singapore's. That island also has porous borders, the mass movement of people, and cultural affinity with practices that led to the original outbreak. It should have become an epicentre for the spread of the disease. Instead, intelligent restrictions have served to minimise the spread of the virus and now the city-state is becoming an exemplar in showing how to control the disease. Here, we've been so busy showing how cleverly we're closing the front gate that nobody's noticed what's happening in the backyard. It's a failure striking at the heart of our society, and its leadership.
Politics is often considered a "soft" skill: desirable, but not critical. The government's failures have almost guaranteed, however, that the spread of disease will be faster than it needed to be - and, as a result, there will be more deaths than necessary. The moral is: protect yourself and your loved ones. This government can't be trusted.
- Nicholas Stuart is a Canberra writer and a regular columnist.