On Monday night (Indonesian local time) another tsunami, caused by a 7.7 magnitude quake, devastated the coastal villages of Sumatra, in Indonesia. At this stage at least 113 people are dead, over 500 missing and according to local government sources 10 villages have been destroyed - which means that in the days to come the death toll will rise, and the cost to the local communities will only begin to be realised as the emergency subsides.
Here in Australia though, you could be forgiven for wondering if there were any casualties at all! Having read the local (Melbourne) papers and listened to the local news reports, it appears, as one reporter said, "there were no significant casualties". Apparently what is meant by 'significant' is that there were no Australians killed or injured. The search for 9 Australians missing after the tsunami has finished with the Herald Sun newspaper claiming a "Great Escpae". (Don't get me wrong, I am glad they are okay!)
Do the editorial staff of our largest newspapers really believe that their readers consider all other nationalities, (in this case Indonesian Muslims) as insignificant? Are their editorial decisions based on any genuine data? If so then we are a sorry people.
It would appear (acording to our news reports) that for the cost of a humanitarian disaster to matter to Australians an Australian needs to be affected - or unfortunately killed!
Wednesday, 27 October 2010
Tuesday, 19 October 2010
Offices of Shame
I would consider myself a fairly averagely educated Aussie bloke able to understand most concepts and navigate my way through most of life’s application forms. But, when it comes to Centrelink (an Australian Government Assistance Office) forms and dealings, I am filled with dread.
Recently, Centrelink made a mistake! And when I rang to discuss this, the officer admitted it was their mistake, "but", he said, "we cannot override the computer, you will need to start the whole process of justifying yourself again, Sir."
I couple of days later I received a 27 page application in the mail. These forms are hard work, they are ambiguously worded, they are repetitive, they are (necessarily) personal, they are confusing; they are exhausting and frightening, because if you make a mistake you can be prosecuted! And that's how a "fairly averagely educated Anglo Aussie" feels. I can only imagine how a new Australian, a person desperately trying to fit in and be 'normal' would feel.
And then it got worse. Instructed to appear at my nearest Centrelink office I walked into a large building were the first person I saw was a security guard. There were long lines of people with their eyes down to the floor and heads bowed. Most people didn't look at each other, they either stood in line, waiting to approach the high counter were an officer waited, or sat and waited in impersonal waiting areas staring at a large plasma screen.
There was a tangible heaviness in the air; it felt like any life and joy had been sucked out, (reminiscent of a scene with Dementors from Harry Potter). There was nothing about the place, or the people working, that made this office anything but a place where I felt like I was on trial. People were ashamed to be here – and nothing or no one attempted to mitigate that reality.
I felt desperately ashamed of what we make people go through to receive assistance – I felt like I was being challenged to beat the system if I could and if I dared.
Let me add quickly that I am not criticizing all the staff – when I did see an officer she was lovely, helpful and, miraculously – she agreed that it was their mistake and the computer could be overridden!
There has to be a better way Centrelink – just making the waiting areas a little less sterile and unfriendly would help. But maybe in the meantime we need to get some people to conduct stealth missions. Maybe we could get some people to infiltrate Centrelink waiting rooms and see if they can inject some hope and, whatever the opposite of shame is, into these offices of shame.
Recently, Centrelink made a mistake! And when I rang to discuss this, the officer admitted it was their mistake, "but", he said, "we cannot override the computer, you will need to start the whole process of justifying yourself again, Sir."
I couple of days later I received a 27 page application in the mail. These forms are hard work, they are ambiguously worded, they are repetitive, they are (necessarily) personal, they are confusing; they are exhausting and frightening, because if you make a mistake you can be prosecuted! And that's how a "fairly averagely educated Anglo Aussie" feels. I can only imagine how a new Australian, a person desperately trying to fit in and be 'normal' would feel.
And then it got worse. Instructed to appear at my nearest Centrelink office I walked into a large building were the first person I saw was a security guard. There were long lines of people with their eyes down to the floor and heads bowed. Most people didn't look at each other, they either stood in line, waiting to approach the high counter were an officer waited, or sat and waited in impersonal waiting areas staring at a large plasma screen.
There was a tangible heaviness in the air; it felt like any life and joy had been sucked out, (reminiscent of a scene with Dementors from Harry Potter). There was nothing about the place, or the people working, that made this office anything but a place where I felt like I was on trial. People were ashamed to be here – and nothing or no one attempted to mitigate that reality.
I felt desperately ashamed of what we make people go through to receive assistance – I felt like I was being challenged to beat the system if I could and if I dared.
Let me add quickly that I am not criticizing all the staff – when I did see an officer she was lovely, helpful and, miraculously – she agreed that it was their mistake and the computer could be overridden!
There has to be a better way Centrelink – just making the waiting areas a little less sterile and unfriendly would help. But maybe in the meantime we need to get some people to conduct stealth missions. Maybe we could get some people to infiltrate Centrelink waiting rooms and see if they can inject some hope and, whatever the opposite of shame is, into these offices of shame.
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