While it is a given state and territory leaders must make the hard decisions to protect their citizens against the coronavirus, there is a growing fear that in some cases they have gone too far.
Unless leaders back up their tough measures by releasing the "best possible medical advice" on which they were said to be based, they are actually giving oxygen to the small, but vocal, minority of "sovereign citizens" and the like, who preach civil disobedience.
One reason why so many Australians have shown such a commendable willingness to comply with business closures, restrictions on movement, lockdowns and even curfews in the past six months is because they accept what they are being told to do is also the best, and most rational, thing to do.
That belief is starting to wear thin in some places. Many Melbourne residents, understandably grappling with lockdown fatigue, and who deserve our thanks for tolerating very onerous restrictions in order to contain the virus, are now trying to get their heads around the fact the 8pm curfew was not based on medical advice.
Meanwhile, in both Canberra and Sydney, ordinary citizens and political leaders - including the Prime Minister - have been stunned by the lack of compassion Queensland has shown in dealing with applications for humanitarian exemptions to quarantine provisions.
The case that grabbed national attention this week involved Canberra's Sarah Caisip who, after being prevented from seeing her terminally ill father before he died, was stopped from attending his funeral, and was only able to view his body wearing full personal protective equipment.
Queensland Premier Annastacia Palaszczuk stopped well short of apologising to Ms Caisip for the failure of compassion during a tense press conference on Friday morning. She couldn't pass the buck on responsibility for the call fast enough.
"It's not my decision, those decisions are made by the (state's) chief medical officer," she repeatedly told the Queensland media pack.
Palaszczuk, who would have had the authority to intervene in both this case, and that of four Sydney children who will effectively have to draw straws to see which one is permitted to visit their dying father in a Brisbane hospital, may be starting to realise she has pushed her "iron lady" act too far.
The decision to prevent Ms Caisip from seeing her dad is problematic for Palaszczuk and her team given the ACT would not qualify as a COVID-19 hotspot under any reasonable definition of the word. It's almost two months since there has been an active case here. Ms Caisip is far more at risk of infection in a Brisbane quarantine facility than she would be at home.
Palaszczuk's case is further weakened by the decision to open the gate to the AFL leadership, and all its hangers-on last weekend, and the decision to admit actor Tom Hanks.
Ms Caisip was never a serious health risk. Her treatment was all about the fact Palaszczuk is fighting for her political life with Queensland going to its tightest election in years in less than 50 days.
With only two seats in it for an absolute majority, three of her ministers have chosen not to contest because of the introduction of four-year terms and health reasons. And, as is the case in the ACT, the ALP is facing fierce competition from the Greens in inner-city seats.
Decisions of this nature should be informed by common sense, human decency, and a sense of compassion. This is about the stuff of people's lives; not shoring up political support.