When I was young, summer holidays meant camping at Warrnambool’s Surf Side 1 or 2 caravan parks with the entire extended family, getting rolled in the ocean and snorting salt water out of the way for hours a day.

Or taking trips down the Great Ocean Road with my friends, ignoring the prospect of bumper to bumper traffic to play and stay in the iconic bush/beach settings.

As I moved into emergency management, summer filled me with adrenalin and dread. What consequences would fire bring; what impact to community members and emergency services; what issues and what long hours did we have ahead in trying to plan the communication required for communities.

As I left emergency management, the summer focus was on heat health and the potential for power outages against the backdrop of fire and storms.

Right now, this minute, summer means planning around the bushfire smoke and whether we can go outside and for how long.

Sometimes, just sometimes, holed up safely in inner Melbourne, you can be forgiven for forgetting for a moment the threat that fire brings to regional areas and our metro urban fringes. In the middle of a smoke haze where the City disappears in the distance and you feel the wheeze of usually dormant asthma, it’s a stark and apt reminder of far-reaching potential consequences.

In early January, the ABC’s The Conversation ran an article by fire researcher David Bowman in which he says:

“As we contemplate a future where catastrophes like the one currently engulfing Australia becomes increasingly frequent, there’s an idea to which I keep returning: maybe it’s time to say goodbye to the typical summer Australian holiday”.

The emergency management communications specialist in me considered it. The summer holiday child in me reacted with horror.

What he actually put forward was an idea of rearranging the peak holiday period to March or April, instead of December and January. His consideration was the absurdity of the business-as-usual approach that sees thousand of holidaymakers heading directly into forests and national parks in the middle of peak bushfire season.

Watching the unfolding, days-long and frightening evacuation of Mallacoota, and of holidaymakers and communities more broadly, my mind agreed.

During summer, we always used to say that the mindset of people on holiday was different; you’re in unfamiliar areas, if you ever had a plan at home, you don’t at your new destination, you’re focussed on a day at the beach and not the fire risk if you even read a paper or listen to the radio. It’s a real risk, no doubt, and one the emergency management agencies do plan for. But still…..

In the article, researcher Bowman acknowledged his idea was a confronting one. He said the benefits of having main holidays in the cooler months as potentially less loss of life, more certainty and opportunity for businesses and holidaymakers, and potentially smoother handling of fire crises as they emerge, with less of a transient population to deal with.

I appreciated his thinking, controversial or not. I can’t come at the idea itself. My reaction to it is viscerally emotional. Even while under the heavy pall of smoke in the City, I would consider that failure, beyond adaptation to climate change, a lift instead to acceptance of failure.

But Bowman’s consideration is right; the consideration of what future life is like under changing conditions. Big picture and personally, living with what we now have; preventing it from getting worse, mitigating the consequences currently in play, and yes absolutely, adapting where we have to.

In the meantime, we have in your face hazy summer days instead of lazy summer days.

https://mobile.abc.net.au/news/2020-01-06/bushfire-season-holidays-converge-goodbye-typical-summer/11843312?pfmredir=sm

 

You wake up smelling bushfire. It’s on the wind, in almost inner city Melbourne. In the distance the city has disappeared under a fog of smoke that doesn’t belong to it either. It complements in a tiny, miniscule way the apocalyptic photos coming out of eastern and north east Victoria under those blood red, smoke-choked skies.

I haven’t been in a bushfire. I don’t ever want to be in a bushfire. Ten years in the sector has given me a healthy respect for it, but also a massive fear of it. I’ve been on the ground as a journalist, reported on them, skirting safely round the fiery bits. I’ve listened to the harrowing tales of some of Victoria’s most senior and experienced operational firefighters.

I’ve stood in the State Control Centre crying because I thought my parents were going to be trapped in a bushfire, listening to the air desk supervisor tell me it would be okay, they had as many water bombing aircraft on it as they could. I’ve taught my mum to use the Vic Emergency App and I do the anxious “I’m far away and they live in the country” dance each time the fire danger rating hits Extreme.

I’ve seen the beautiful before pictures as I’ve travelled Victoria. And I’ve seen the aftermath. I’ve walked the pitted land, seen the twisted wrecks of houses and the saves, smelt the death of livestock and listened to the camaraderie and grief of community members and emergency services personnel who have either seen this before or have been pushed to breaking point.

I’ve supported traumatised community members through media engagement. I’ve advised leaders through same. I’ve been privileged to work in coordinating, developing, supporting and implementing communication around new policies, procedures and education.  I’ve supported the introduction of new systems, and led new initiatives designed to better coordinate whole of government information.  I’ve learned what recovery looks like and it’s very, very long tail.

Yet so many challenges as a sector we’ve never really overcome. How to “convince” community members they need to know what they’ll do in a bushfire (will that ever happen to me?), how to convince them to leave before a fire (what does leaving before a fire even mean?), to have them understand the physical and mental capacity required to stay with a property (I can do it, I have it under control).

Greater minds than mine have been tackling this for years using research, experience, education, awareness. And yet, in a way, the current blanket media coverage is the best advertising campaign.  A horrific way to look at it, I know, and I don’t mean it as such.   But it is that reality that is so hard to convey in any messages, in any campaign, in any social media post, in any engagement activity when people are busy with life-stuff, families, paying bills, working and being.

As I watch the coverage, I won’t be alone in wondering what lessons will come out of this horror. Is there something different that could have been done? Is there something else that will be done? I know the answer will be yes, because we can never sit still, and never accept that this is the way it is now.

Can we?

Leadership is a funny thing. You don’t need to be a Leader to be a ‘leader’.

Sometimes you don’t know it’s being done well until it’s not there any more. Sometimes you don’t know you’re leading because you’re ‘just doing your job’. And sometimes leadership comes from unexpected quarters because someone has an opportunity to show what they are capable of.

On Twitter, Brendan from Mallacoota, who is sending out information by live tweeting, is an interesting example of an unexpected community leader now representing his community in international media. However, we do have certain expectations of our elected and paid Leaders.

We expect compassion, empathy, decisions and action.  We expect them to be there. In some way at least.

Forgetting about climate change as a hot button topic for a moment, the actions of the PM can barely be seen as leadership. Not when the country is burning, and the deaths are mounting. Not when people need some hope. No matter what’s going on behind the scenes, he’s been absent.

Sure, as a country we need someone to blame for this horrific situation.  That’s very Australian, and in emotional times, that’s understandable. Rest assured the fingers of that blame will spread once the response for the fires is more controlled, and community and media have time to question more fully what’s occurred. But if you’re not there, physically present, you can’t feel it and you can’t see it.

The PM’s flippant comment about not picking up a fire hose is nonetheless correct. In an operational sense, you don’t want interference. But in my experience, feeling and hearing what’s happening on the ground and what people need is one of the best ways to be informed.

You have to pick your time. I’ve seen it done brilliantly during the Hazelwood Mine Fire in 2014, and the Wye River/ Kennett River fires in 2015 with the former Emergency Management Commissioner. Currently, the RFS Commissioner is, day after day, seen to be operationally present at State level and on the ground in New South Wales.

Victoria’s Premier and Minister Emergency Services are seen to be steady, informed and interested. The insights they gain will help further inform the decisions they are being asked to make by government agencies, departments and communities.  At a more basic level, communities can see they are listening.

I’ve seen the media clips with the PM being abused on the ground. His interest is too late and these communities feel betrayed. It doesn’t feel authentic and Aussies hate that.  You must be authentic and know what you’re talking about. Now more than ever, our leaders across the nation have to rally behind our communities and show a collective, united and genuine leadership.  Our communities need it. And they won’t stop needing it for a very long time now.

https://www.smh.com.au/national/people-are-looking-for-someone-to-blame-and-right-now-the-pm-s-their-sights-20200102-p53obw.html