Is Australia still the Lucky Country?

It wasn’t a blip, still isn’t. It didn’t rebound. No new normal either. But if we look around, we can see what we still have.

Illustration by Glen Le Lievre

At night, the quiet is lovely even in its strangeness. The passage of cars, buses, bikes and people, all stopped. By 10pm mostly. The only sounds are of night animals.

It’s like the 1950s, maybe like the 19th century. Hard to say if it’s our past or our future.

The world is in a liminal space.

Seeing the end but not there yet. Knowing the end, no, hoping the end of it is near. Knowing, hoping to know, knowing not to hope too much.

An emotional scar lies on all. All 7.8 billion of our species. And all ages.

This isn’t like a war that affects mainly adults in some countries or a depression borne by workers.

This has been carried by children who saw their playground equipment roped off, schools close and their parents walk with them in masks. By teenagers who saw a year of fun, flirting and naughtiness disappear. The young couples who thought, not yet. Maybe next year. By the workers who sat on couches with video work; the service workers who showed up, wondering if this was the day. The old people – at home or in homes – fearing that this way of living would be their last way of living.

At times, you forget. At home, with the cooking, gardening, too much TV, games on phones, the dog, the chores.

Not for long though. As soon as you look too far ahead, too far outside, it looms again.

A holiday? A new job? A course? An outing? A something. Dare we hope. The cafe stayed open. Ah, coffee.

It wasn’t a blip, still isn’t. It didn’t rebound. No new normal either. Not yet. The year will repair but we know the healing will take time now. A gentle re-entry to what lies ahead. And who knows what that will be.

But we are lucky. We are here. Here now and here in Australia. And, if we look around, we can see what we still have, what we always had. Like fresh and clean food, lots of it. Vegies, fruit, lamb, fish, cattle, milk, wine, beer, cheese, bread and bloody great coffee. Ah, coffee.

We grow and make all of what we need here. And do a good job of it.

We have a health system. One that’s healthy. With smart people running it and kind people delivering it. Knowledgeable and diligent. Happy to look after our health before asking for our wallet.

We have public institutions that are strong and prepared to be of service to us. To work overtime making sure our systems are still working and we are still working with them. An ethos of public service. Glitchy at times but they too can pivot.

And politicians, who are not mad. And, mostly, not bad. Sure, they can be glitchy too but they put away their pettiness for the period. To focus on what’s important, even to say what’s important. To speak plainly – hallelujah. To lead. Wow, who knew.

Every day the news from other places reveals how lucky we are. And on our national day this year, we can claim it. Declare it. Celebrate it. Not with hubris or flag draping or podium thumping but with relief and humility.

That’s what we might take out of all this. A sense of humility.

Of realising that our world — sorry, the world is not ours for the taking but ours for the sharing. Of realising that society counts, more than the individual or even the economy.

What would a former president say today if he was on our shores? It’s the society, stupid.

Yes, we are a Lucky Country. But this time we’re smart too.