WHEN Australia does a big post-mortem of its response to the COVID pandemic, what will we see?
Will we look back with pride at limiting deaths related to the virus? Or shame for sacrificing our humanity and compassion to achieve that end?
Will we wonder how we even allowed it all to happen? Or question what choices did we have as mere mortal voters in the process?
Right now, many Australians feel very powerless, which has a profoundly deep effect on our national psyche.
Divided states, mixed messaging, disproportionate responses and political posturing have broken down our trust and sense of what it is to be Australian.
In the fight against the virus, to say we’ve sacrificed our humanity and compassion along the way is no headline-grabbing exaggeration.
The stories are everywhere and continue on an almost daily basis more than 15 months since the pandemic began.
Our political leaders simply haven’t evolved or been agile in this space. If anything, they’ve become more rigid. More ruthless.
From cancer patients denied potentially life-saving treatment due to border closures, to parents being unable to be with their critical ill children, to limiting the funeral of a boy who drowned to 10 people in a country town that hadn’t seen a case of COVID for many months, the list goes on.
Even this week, I read the story of a dying father in a Queensland hospital bed being so tormented by the endless tangle of bureaucracy that he says it might be more convenient to be cremated in NSW.
Mark Kilian, who lives in the US, flew back to Sydney with his wife Anneli Gericke last week so they could spend precious last moments with Kilian’s dad Frans, an 80-year-old with pancreatic cancer.
NSW Health and the Department of Home Affairs granted them exemption to enter the country because the circumstances outweighed the risks to the community.
But Queensland Health refused the exemption to allow Kilian and Gericke into the state, meaning Frans faces the prospect of dying alone.
Mark is fully vaccinated, as is his wife. They’ve offered to wear masks 24/7. They’ll wear hazmat suits and tracking devices if need be. They’ve had three negative Covid tests in five days.
But no. Queensland Premier Annastacia Palaszczuk is standing tough. How utterly cruel.
Sadly, this sort of scenario has played out time and again for heartbroken families through this pandemic and the impacts will be long-lasting.
I have tried to place myself in the shoes of these people, but simply cannot.
If it is frustrating to try and deal with a telecommunications company, imagine the torture of being on the phone to multiple bureaucrats trying to navigate the ever-changing rules around exemptions to see your critically ill child? Or any other loved one? To feel so completely helpless. Powerless.
When Australia looks back on this chapter in our history, one learning we must take away is that we never allow power to again be at the expense of our humanity and compassion.
For those values are at the core of who we are. They can’t become who we were.
