Last weekend, Alan Kohler flagged an alternate universe to the panic-stricken one run by the timorous politicians and their health officer bureaucrats who see no problem in sending the engine room of the country over the cliff (see previous post).
In the same paper, Adam Creighton reviewed the priorities of the left, of which he says 'a common theme is now sanctimony, and vast reservoirs of it', quoting the UN:
David Beasley, executive director of the UN's World Food Program, warned in April that millions could starve as a result of the economic slump induced by the hysterical response to the coronavirus by advanced countries.
Creighton pointed the finger at bureaucrats and politicians:
... the university-educated bureaucrats, teachers, public health advocates, consultants and executives dependent on government contracts, et cetera, whose incomes are more stable (than the poor, itinerant workers, small business owners and independent professionals).
More stable? Public servants are complaining about lower pay rises while small business people are losing their roof over their heads. Creighton expanded on entrenched advantage:
Lockdowns have enriched this class financially and socially. ... As it becomes clearer that COVID-19 is not as lethal as feared, calls for tough public health measures look as if they are more about hurting the private economy to pave the way for a fattened-up clerisy than to save lives.
The 'fattened up clerisy' metaphor brings to mind medieval imagery of serfs and the overlord class. Indeed, there are now two classes in society – woke and broke. Add in a little medieval-style book-burning and you get today's picture.
A day after the Kohler and Creighton stories went to press, the Victorian Premier uttered the following staccato panic-inducing idiocy: 'Don't visit friends and family. Don't go on holiday. Don't go to work. Stay home'.
It's Wednesday. Two days before the school holidays commence, with thousands of families planning the break they didn't have during the lockdown, queues are forming outside supermarkets with panicked shoppers once again stocking up, like demented squirrels, on toilet rolls. Virus-testing stations are overloaded with wait times of up to four hours. Businesses are refusing to serve customers from supposed 'hot-spot' areas. Holiday venues are sending cancellation notices to clients who have made bookings, some threatening to call police if anyone from a particular postcode turns up.
Australia's current death toll? 103. Patients currently in intensive care? 6.