Patrick Carlyon: Why can’t Daniel Andrews just say sorry?
Daniel Andrews may project commitment, yet his rigour seems hollow in the absence of an apology to show he accepts blame for the greatest political catastrophe in living history. And while hope is growing about falling virus numbers, the anger has not dimmed, writes Patrick Carlyon.
Patrick Carlyon
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Sorry doesn’t always mean much any more. Almost everyone is saying it, from Ellen DeGeneres for being unkind to her staff, to Brisbane Lion Mitch Robinson for his unkind assessment of Richmond’s Tom Lynch.
Making an apology can be a strategy, as opposed to a feeling, a tactic as much as a show of contrition. Sincerity sometimes seems like an optional extra.
Yet an apology can mean a lot when the alternative is denial and bluster.
It’s months since Premier Dan Andrews first discovered he was supervising a systemic own goal. Yet his government continues to express little contrition for the greatest political catastrophe in living history.
Andrews may project hardness and commitment, yet his rigour seems hollow in the absence of three little words to show he accepts the blame.
There is optimism about dropping case numbers. Some idealists are already making plans for reduced restrictions. For me, I pine for a late-night Macca’s run, even though I have never made a late-night Macca’s run.
Yet the anger has not dimmed.
Many Victorians tune in to the daily press conference. It’s grown to be a ritual. In the sameness of lockdown, in couches now moulded to the contours of their behinds, they watch the presser to scowl, swear and bitch.
As a close friend wrote yesterday, much as he writes every day: “We are being fed bulls...”.
Or as a nurse wrote: “Through no fault of the community, this situation has escalated due to failings of incompetence by the current serving Victorian government. In my profession, if I had allowed this situation to occur, I would have been suspended from duty, pending an inquiry and charged with negligence.”
These voices are being overlooked. Their numbers, in the torpor of stage four’s third week, grow every day. Yet government ministers, like children, appear to be squeezing their eyes shut tightly in the crazy hope that if they cannot see us then we cannot see them.
Health Minister Jenny Mikakos said she felt “unlucky” the other day. A once-in-a-century pandemic had befallen her time in the portfolio. There’s a tin-eared misunderstanding here.
Observers might identify the dearly departed who died because of her government’s bungling as “unlucky”. The ministers tackling the issue, poorly, are instead bathed in adjectives once reserved for the British generals of World War I.
Mikakos hasn’t said sorry, apart from some odd late-night tweets. She and Andrews stand apart from Prime Minister Scott Morrison, who is “deeply sorry” for aged care, and NSW Premier Gladys Berejiklian, who this week apologised for the Ruby Princess calamity.
Neither, in doing so, has fixed the problems or even admitted that they are their fault. Yet there is kudos in candour. A gesture of regret at least acknowledges that the issue exists and that people are hurting.
Andrews has not been candid. He has airily accepted responsibility for the hotel quarantine bungles, but he doesn’t want to talk about them. Look ahead, not back, he says. I’m too busy. We can’t change the past.
It’s a jaundiced approach, some call it brazen, and it has had a demoralising effect. Andrews and Victorians don’t appear to be on the same team. For all the rhetoric in togetherness, it sometimes seems unclear whose side Andrews is on.
The bar isn’t high for politicians in Australia. Many people assume that chicanery and lies are the first two bullet points for any political resume. Yet people still want to trust their leaders. They need to in times of crisis.
Andrews undermines his own authority every day he delivers his press conference. By seeking to compartmentalise the past and the present, he has surrendered his credibility.
One begot the other, after all. They cannot be separated as mutually exclusive. Many Victorians scoff at Andrews’ invocations. Instead, they sit poised to pounce when Andrews dismisses questions about his government’s failings.
Andrews’ fumbled attempts at allaying blame have compounded the rage. He has condemned his government to a slow-motion reckoning.
We now know for certain that the second wave was caused by institutional incompetence. Ninety-nine per cent of cases trace to hotel quarantine and the inexplicable decision to use private guards instead of the army and police.
It grates that Andrews knew this months ago, and didn’t bother to share, in a choice that smacks of a politically craven disregard for the perception of transparency.
Andrews has doubled down on his claim that the ADF did not offer assistance, despite overwhelming evidence that they indeed did. He is being condemned to the political death of a thousand “buts”.
It’s not like Andrews is out of options. Why won’t he short-circuit the Victorian surge of impotent rage? Why won’t he say sorry?
Patrick Carlyon is a Herald sun columnist