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10 reviews for:
Mean Streak: A Moral Vacuum, a Dodgy Debt Generator and a Multi-billion Government Fraud
Rick Morton
4.34 AVERAGE
10 reviews for:
Mean Streak: A Moral Vacuum, a Dodgy Debt Generator and a Multi-billion Government Fraud
Rick Morton
4.34 AVERAGE
challenging
dark
informative
medium-paced
challenging
informative
medium-paced
What could be a dry account of the robodebt is actually a very engaging exploration of the people, processes and decisions involved. I think this is an important book for anyone that votes to read and understand.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Suicide
challenging
dark
informative
medium-paced
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
A meticulous and uncompromising account of robodebt — from its conception to execution to coverup to investigation to the (lack of) consequences. Morton writes wittily and humorously — but also with palpable anger. But who could criticise him for that sin? He followed this case of utterly neglectful public maladministration like nobody else. This account is thorough, explanatory where needed and damning. It will stay with me for a long time. 4.5 stars.
challenging
dark
reflective
sad
slow-paced
challenging
informative
medium-paced
challenging
emotional
informative
tense
medium-paced
I couldn't put this book down. I knew about Robodebt from the news, but to learn about its inception was eye opening. Morton goes into an astounding amount of detail, and importantly weaves in the stories of some of the victims of Robodebt that didn't make it out of the scandal alive.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Mental illness, Suicide
challenging
emotional
informative
sad
medium-paced
challenging
informative
sad
medium-paced
challenging
informative
reflective
medium-paced
Mean Streak is not a dry book to read. Morton's sentences slash with sarcasm, drip with disdain and set up punchline after punchline. He turns a tale of bureaucracy into a thriller, with villains whose actions get ever more outrageous until the final, reassuring fall from grace. This is cathartic, rage-fuelled writing. he frequently pulls in tangential background, from Milgrim to several references to the novel Piranesi, but quickly returns to his central narrative.
But the thing is, he has earned this, and the story deserves it. For a long time, with some familiarity with such things, I would reassure people that Robodebt was almost certainly more incompetance than malice. But it turns out there were bucketloads of both to go around. And while the incompetence is expected, the malice is a little breathtaking.
Morton demonstrates convincingly that many of those involved in the decision-making knew that this money that was being collected was not debt at all. This system, he contends, was established to steal, both to rescue a deficit and to do so by demonising and humiliating some of our most vulnerable people. Morton understands the dynamics of welfare, the way shame saturates life and his white hot anger largely stems from how this was weaponised, with multiple known victims spiralling into suicidal ideation, and some ultimately dying.
And behind this is a senior public service that is so absorbed into politics that to object is unthinkable - even to fail to protect the politicians intent is a crime worthy of ostracism. It is junior staff who are heroes here (as well, of course, as activists and the victims themselves and their families). Frontline staff on entry level wages who haven't caught on that the public service part of the job is now just an Orwellian title. The section at the end, in which named individuals statements all contend to explain how whatever went wrong, they didn't know anything, is a depressing shitshow. In a scheme in which every lawyer initially noted it as obviously illegal, in which every test indicated that most of the 'debts' that would be claimed did not exist, in which every experience in the pilot held up that people were not able to 'correct' the arbitrary claims before they were charged, not knowing is just as unconscionable as it is unbelievable.
What happened at DSS and DHS is not I believe typical of the public service. But it is a warning bell, and not just about the integrity of the Australian Public Service. Underneath this is a fascist-style disregard for truth and a desire for a group of victims to blame, to unite society in whipping people who "damage us all". We are not so far from this reality as we think.
I read this book in a week where I also read Paul Hardisty's book on the failures around the Great Barrier Reef and Carl Elliot's really engaging Occasional Human Sacrifice about medical malpractice whistleblowers, and taken together, it was all a bit much. But also, it highlighted that the exposure of this scheme was a monumental achievement and that every victory counts. In the end, this is a story of something beaten back, not just one dodgy program, but the right of government to lie, obscure and demonise. So let's take the win.
But the thing is, he has earned this, and the story deserves it. For a long time, with some familiarity with such things, I would reassure people that Robodebt was almost certainly more incompetance than malice. But it turns out there were bucketloads of both to go around. And while the incompetence is expected, the malice is a little breathtaking.
Morton demonstrates convincingly that many of those involved in the decision-making knew that this money that was being collected was not debt at all. This system, he contends, was established to steal, both to rescue a deficit and to do so by demonising and humiliating some of our most vulnerable people. Morton understands the dynamics of welfare, the way shame saturates life and his white hot anger largely stems from how this was weaponised, with multiple known victims spiralling into suicidal ideation, and some ultimately dying.
And behind this is a senior public service that is so absorbed into politics that to object is unthinkable - even to fail to protect the politicians intent is a crime worthy of ostracism. It is junior staff who are heroes here (as well, of course, as activists and the victims themselves and their families). Frontline staff on entry level wages who haven't caught on that the public service part of the job is now just an Orwellian title. The section at the end, in which named individuals statements all contend to explain how whatever went wrong, they didn't know anything, is a depressing shitshow. In a scheme in which every lawyer initially noted it as obviously illegal, in which every test indicated that most of the 'debts' that would be claimed did not exist, in which every experience in the pilot held up that people were not able to 'correct' the arbitrary claims before they were charged, not knowing is just as unconscionable as it is unbelievable.
What happened at DSS and DHS is not I believe typical of the public service. But it is a warning bell, and not just about the integrity of the Australian Public Service. Underneath this is a fascist-style disregard for truth and a desire for a group of victims to blame, to unite society in whipping people who "damage us all". We are not so far from this reality as we think.
I read this book in a week where I also read Paul Hardisty's book on the failures around the Great Barrier Reef and Carl Elliot's really engaging Occasional Human Sacrifice about medical malpractice whistleblowers, and taken together, it was all a bit much. But also, it highlighted that the exposure of this scheme was a monumental achievement and that every victory counts. In the end, this is a story of something beaten back, not just one dodgy program, but the right of government to lie, obscure and demonise. So let's take the win.