We need to care, and pay the cost

Australians are world champions at providing a poor service at a criminally high price. Brace yourselves for a brutal reality check.

The aged care inquiry will reveal as much about us as it does about a sector. It should make us look in the mirror.

An English art deco grandfather clock stands in our upstairs hallway close to all the bedrooms. It keeps good time and chimes rather loudly every 15 minutes, day and night. Because of the tone of the chime, we named the clock Winston Churchill, and most of our visitors find his pronouncements inhibit sleep. So, when people stay over, we offer to stop Winston and, if this happens, when they leave we start him and rejoice because the chimes, for us, mean that life continues its rhythms.

Downstairs from Winston, in the front room, a French and extremely rare, scarlet Chinoiserie wall clock named Aunty Madeline pings every half-hour. She never wants to be wound and has to be kept perfectly level or she will refuse to work. She is temperamental but the most beautiful clock, even with her age-related damage.

In the bookcase adjacent to Aunty, a mid-century black marble mantel clock named Margaret Thatcher holds court, pinging unpredictably whenever and however she wants — the actual time be damned. It doesn’t seem appropriate or necessary to have her repaired; her word is accepted as law.

On the shelf below Margaret, a tiny, brass and wizened leather carriage clock named Bertie sits in total silence. Bertie has never worked for us and never will, he is just too old, but it doesn’t matter — he is welcome anyway. In the back hall, though, a giant Black Forest cuckoo clock carved out of walnut, named King Henry, makes a great contribution, ticking loudly and bellowing on the hour. He must be wound twice a day or his solid brass weights hit the floor with a loud thump.

All of our clocks are old, quite redundant, yet without them our house would not be a home. Others may see our house as a nursing home for useless old clocks, but we find their presence a comfort — an antidote to modern life.

It is said that old things, particularly heirlooms, tie us to our ancestors and anchor us to our past. They remind us of who we are, individually or collectively, and where we stand in the world. Yet in this country, old objects generally don’t have a high value: old furniture, old clocks, old china, old silver and old people.

In September last year, when announcing the Royal Commission into Aged Care Quality and Safety, Scott Morrison told us all to “brace ourselves for some pretty bruising information” about the way aged-care residents are treated. Clearly, this royal commission is going to shock, horrify and devastate.

It will be tempting to place all the blame on the care providers and their staff, and in some instances this will be justified. But before we all start baying for blood and making demands of “bizness” and “gummint”, let’s look inward.

Brace yourselves for what this royal commission will tell us about Australian culture. It will reveal as much about us as it does about a sector. It should make us look in the mirror and examine our attitudes towards the elderly, the strength of our families and our expectations of everyone else, via government.

As a society, do we venerate our seniors? Speak to a newcomer and they will likely say that Christmas is the one day of the year that Australians remember they have a family. They will say we expect the government to look after our children while we go to work, and our parents when they get old, and that we will be the first to complain when the care is substandard, even though we are not prepared to provide the care ourselves.

This is not to say that there are not strong families out there, or that all residents in aged care have been disregarded. Many have no option but to place their parents in aged care, and they make great efforts to watch over them, and have helped bring this royal commission about.

Still, according to Senior Australians and Aged Care Minister Ken Wyatt, up to 40 per cent of aged-care residents receive no visitors, ever. Let’s account for all those with no living relatives and those who have been terrible parents and, still, 40 per cent seems a large number.

This royal commission will result in the display of another unfortunate Australian mindset — that something will be done to fix a problem, and hang the cost because, after all, someone else can be taxed to pay.

After it all blows over, be prepared for the cost of aged care to rise exponentially. Increased regulation, more medical staff, pay rises for workers, staff-to-patient ratios, improvements to facilities, greater monitoring by government — all of this won’t come cheap.

Think of childcare — er sorry, early childhood education — and what it cost a decade or two ago, and think of the cost now, and then you may have an inkling. Aged care is the new childcare, and the elephant in the room is the family home and whether it will remain financially quarantined from the equation.

Finally, this royal commission may cause us to reflect on another issue. Australians are world champions at providing a poor service that ignores the consumer’s needs and wants, for a criminally high price. We need to understand why in this country it is beyond our capacity to deliver a fantastic consumer-focused service, of excellent standard, quickly, efficiently and cost effectively, even when our most vulnerable are the ones at stake.