On Winter Chills and Federal Elections

It’s almost winter in this part of the world and that means head colds and flu. Both my partner and I have come down with the latter at the same time. As I put on my Facebook page, it’s sniffles in stereo around here and I can’t make up my mind which is worst;  suffering alone from a bad cold (as my daughter, who lives interstate, did last week) or suffering at the same time as your partner. I mean, in both cases, who fixes the hot drinks, picks up supplies from the store, cooks the meals?

We’ve decided to take turns as our colds are mild and our needs few. We’ve spent the morning sitting in the family room, where a weak sun occasionally peeks in at us past the clouds and through the windows. We’ve shared snippets of information from Facebook, sneezed together and gently commiserated with each other. We’re planning to watch a couple of DVDs this afternoon, or maybe just snooze; there’s not a lot can be done about a cold except wait it out, drink plenty of fluids, and rest.

It just occurred to me, as I wrote the first two paragraphs, that my entire country has a head cold at the moment, otherwise known as a general federal election. The symptoms are similar; Australian’s collective heads are  pounding with the clichés, slogans and promises made and broken from the last election. After only three weeks, and with five more to go, our energy is depleted, our political antibodies, while still fighting the good fight, need help. Check this link, for example, to see the effect last night’s ‘great debate’ had on Laura Tingle, one of Australia’s perceptive and respected journalists.

Australia is suffering. It needs to stock up on paracetamols laced with ‘beta blockers guaranteed to eliminate polli speak.’ Even a few of the candidates are starting to sound husky, the result of too much talking and not enough thinking. Many of us hope they’ll soon see sense and stop talking altogether. It will be better for them and a bonus for us. It’s also apparent that most of our candidates have misdiagnosed our ailments; ‘Fix the economy,’ they insist, forgetting that a human’s hopes, dreams and needs are not column entries on a financial spread sheet. Some of us reckon the problem goes deeper, that the real source of our malaise is Australia’s soul. Our collective health is poor because we imprison the innocent (our ‘solution’ for refugees) and decimate arts funding. Maybe it’s my sore head, but my poor country is ailing; we used to pride ourselves on being the land of the ‘fair go’, we believed in giving those worse off a helping hand. Then again, we failed too many times to heal the damage we did to original custodians of this beautiful country.

Maybe Australia needs antibiotics, a good dose of statesmen and stateswomen to flush the politicians out of our system and make room for people of principle: creative thinkers; leaders who recognise our strengths as well as our weaknesses; problem solvers who believe every Australian is a valued member of society no matter their religious beliefs, gender alignment, race, class or education level. We need leaders who listen, not functionaries who think they know who we are and what we want. We need to strengthen our immune system so we can right the wrongs made in our name. It’s the people who wield the syringe that will deliver the medicine; it’s called an election. We have five more weeks before it’s ‘roll up your sleeves, Messers Turnbull and Shorten. Time to take your medicine’.

You have to love democracy; if nothing else, it’s a chance to play doctor to what, or who, ails us.

And now I’m off to make some soup while my partner dozes on the couch.