Patrick Carlyon: Preparations for second wave seem excessive when we barely had a first
COVID-19 safety co-ordinators are popping up everywhere, but are the rules they’re enforcing even necessary? Has anyone stopped to wonder how you seek to suppress a second wave when, statistically, you have barely suffered a first, asks Patrick Carlyon.
Opinion
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Go to any major beach and you are greeted with signs explaining what you cannot do. No jumping. No diving. No dogs.
Australia likes rules. They have flourished in the wake of the COVID-19 threat, and no matter that they are generally unenforceable and unnecessary. Much like the beach signs, which by their prominence imply that people generally should not be trusted.
Victoria leads the nation for sticking to the rules. We have had triple the fines for breaching virus restrictions than any other state, in part because the culprits have been reported by fellow citizens.
Why have local laws or police officers when ordinary citizens do the job for them? Is it time for a new licence plate logo? Victoria: The Dibber Dobber State.
The dimming of the virus has accelerated the rise of such petty tyrannies.
In the suburbs, jumped-up parade ground corporals go disguised as well-meaning, helpful people who like to pretend that the rules they enforce are just as silly as everyone thinks they are.
Junior sport has long been an unchecked nursery for their kind. Australians have fought wars with fewer rules of engagement than the under 9s Canterbury Cobras v Park Orchards Sharks clash.
About half of parents at each game, or so it seems, must wear a bright bib that designates their duties. Ground managers unite with water carriers and umpire escorts to ensure that the game is, well, fun.
There are also Chief Hand-holders, Deputy Chief Hand-holders and Morale Incentivisers. They may not have official titles yet. Give it time. They will.
This virus threat has complicated an already tangled pursuit. An eastern suburbs local netball association edict earlier this week began: “Approved return to netball protocols – if these are not followed, Council will close down the entire Association, including our Power and VNL teams!!!!!”.
It then sets out an involved set of guidelines. No spectators and no toilet breaks – although you can visit the exe-loo outside.
The netball association has taken its cues from the Australian Sports Commission COVID-19 checklist. This runs to 17 pages of pseudo military jargon, as if aimed at choking the spirit of the most devoted parent.
It seems that every club and association must have a dedicated “COVID-19 Safety Co-ordinator” to monitor wayward players and their dodgy entourages. The sinister kicker lies in the onus of responsibility:
“(W) here an action in this checklist is not undertaken, the organisation should be able to justify that decision to relevant sport stakeholder groups, including government and public health authorities, on an ‘if not, why not?’ basis.”
The checklist includes advice on possible sanctions against those who does not abide by social distancing. But should you call the cops if a curious three-year-old strays too close when he tries to pat a dog?
Players should “shower with soap” before turning up. Will COVID-19 co-ordinators smell the armpits of players before writing down their name and number on a Body Odour compliance form?
Witches hats and footballs should be disinfected after changes of play. Presumably, a new bib emblazoned with “Spray n’ Wipe Chief Operating Officer” is being mass produced as we speak, although it remains unclear if the newfangled officials get a hard hat with their name on it.
“Isolation areas” are to be set aside for sudden outbreaks of illness. Sick people must be taken to this zone, where personal protective equipment should be stationed. Precisely who dons the gear, and what they are expected to do once they have done a Darth Vader impersonation, is not spelled out.
I know one football COVID-19 co-ordinator who has figured out that a pool noodle is about 1.5 metres long. She plans to use the noodle to allocate space, and merrily belt the non-compliant around the legs.
Sport is an obvious hotspot. Other misplaced restrictions are also doomed to endure.
State border controls make no difference, according to the best health advice. But Queensland is determined to keep them, anyway. Just ‘cos.
There has been no evidence of virus spread through a supermarket or the sharing of a Sherrin. It seems unlikely there will be, especially among kids who generally don’t suffer the contagion.
Yet it doesn’t matter. A cottage industry in petty power has been born. It will thrive, even though it serves no purpose.
Has anyone stopped to wonder how you seek to suppress a second wave when, statistically, you have barely suffered a first? Isn’t the enemy “invisible” because the enemy is mostly elsewhere?
We’ve been here before. The Y2K bug, ultimately, had to be treated as real, not because haywire computers were likely to black out entire countries, but to justify so much effort against the perceived threat.
Still, many questions about COVID-19 protocols remain unanswered. Such as the tricky role of football umpire escorts. How do the escorts protect an umpire if they must maintain 1.5 metres from both the umpire and a wannabe assailant?
If, in doing their duty, an escort breaches virus guidelines, who will be the first to dob them in?
PATRICK CARLYON IS A HERALD SUN COLUMNIST