Coronavirus: the end of narcissism?

From the pandemic’s earliest days, glib forays into social media by celebrities seeking attention and yet further adulation have been met with stony disapproval.

Viewed in hindsight, calamitous events such as the first and second world wars were pivotal points after which Australia, and other nations, changed direction. Following the Great War, the 1920s was a liberating decade filled with new sounds of jazz, crazy dances and daring fashion. The six years of World War II, on the other hand, created a longing for traditional male and female roles in the bright new world of suburbia in Australia and America.

The worst of the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic in Australia could be limited to the autumn of 2020, a long way short of the five to six years that so changed life at the time of the world wars. But there is an important difference between the effects of calamities then and now: the way the immediacy and universality of social and other media has supercharged our responsiveness to the idea of social change.

Australia in the early 20th century was isolated. We received information from afar in filtered bits and pieces, and most certainly didn’t know in real time what was happening overseas. In some ways I think waiting and wondering would have been more painful than information overload. What would have been the effect on five million Australians in July 1916 had they known in real time that 1230 Diggers died in a single day during the Battle of Fromelles?

Our current experience with adversity will be much briefer, but it will be more universal and therefore disproportionately galvanising. We’re all being swept along together, exposed to the same threats and responding with relief to the same victories. An entire nation focused on a single sustained crisis involving life and death, replete with heroes and villains, sacrifice and hardship, will surely result in social shifts as powerful as those in the ’20s and ’50s.

“We’re all in this together” has become a popular refrain among the leadership during the corona wars. Its purpose is to remind us to work together. Could it presage a new era marked by the diminution of narcissism?

I think we’ve been re-evaluating the entire contribution/reward equation since the summer bushfires and now, with the added experience of the pandemic, we can see the shallowness of the so-called glamour professions – the celebrities, the influencers. We appreciate the selflessness of volunteer firefighters, of healthcare workers and supermarket staff. From the pandemic’s earliest days, glib forays into social media by celebrities seeking attention and yet further adulation have been met with stony disapproval. Perhaps it’s best that they stay offline while our real heroes do the heavy lifting.

The work-from-home movement means we’re getting our jobs done without the need to dress up – at least on the bottom half. TV interviews showcase medical and other experts at home, often with lived-in backgrounds, imperfect lighting, crackly sound and a less than perfect camera angle. We no longer care about such matters. Our expectations have shifted; in no time we have come to value substance over style. Families are hunkering down, cooking, working, laughing, squabbling in each other’s personal space and without the prospect of a visitor to judge the mess. In some ways we’re rediscovering the joys of the tribe.

I am sure that in due course the pure self-interest of “me” will resurface but not in the short-term, not after this year, Australia’s year of drought then rain, bushfire then relief, pandemic then (presumably) deliverance. In 2021, in the shadow of all that has happened, I hope we Australians will create a society more focused on “we” than “me”.