If you've ever found yourself between jobs, in student poverty, disabled or in any other way requiring assistance, you will share this familiar experience: a trip to Centrelink is one of the most dehumanising experiences our nation has to offer its people. The people who need its help the most.
We’re greeted with a half-smile. We’re asked for our numbers – an identity more powerful than our names. We’re ordered to take a seat. And then we wait, sometimes for hours, until our moment comes and we’re called to show a stranger how much debt we’re really in.
In theory, my own process should be simple: I'm between jobs - a comparatively short stint in the system, a little help with my rent, before I am on my way again. Others aren't so lucky, checking in regularly as they spend years in their studies or trying to find a job.
We’re asked for our numbers – an identity more powerful than our names
And while a little financial assistance during rough times sounds like it's too good to be true, when it comes to Centrelink, it usually is.
Writing from the waiting area (I know I'll have enough time to spend with you from here), I reflect on the 159 missed calls to Centrelink I made in the past fortnight to try to speed up my claim, which hasn't been processed in the two months since leaving my job at a modestly paid not-for-profit.
After conflicting requests for information from Centrelink staff, I was told my claim was sent to the wrong processing centre - or some other bureaucratic jargon to this effect - and the days of waiting soon turned into weeks.
I’m no stranger to Centrelink, having spent a couple of my full-time university years on student allowance. I recall my mental groans which occasionally materialised into verbal complaints, but the dominant feeling was that the benefits outweighed the cost of inconvenience. Now, I’m not so sure the Centrelink experience can be trivialised as a mere inconvenience.
I’m still in my 20s, having worked hard to build a promising career in the arts. It’s an industry that already carries with it a great deal of stigma. Not only are the arts dismissed by our leaders as “a lifestyle choice” despite generating a positive impact on our economy; but its practitioners suffer anxiety at 10 times the rate of the general population, with rates of depression five times higher. So when it comes to artists like me claiming social welfare between often-temporary jobs in this highly competitive, poorly funded field – it doesn’t look pretty. We unwillingly help to perpetuate the “starving artist” stereotype while simultaneously donning the hat of “dole bludger”.
The dominant feeling was that the benefits outweighed the cost of inconvenience. Now, I’m not so sure
But industry and economics aside, it’s the stigma surrounding all welfare benefit claimants that needs to be challenged. And it needs to start from the dehumanising bureaucracy of its source: Centrelink. My story of unemployment and a systemic struggle is tame in comparison to others I’ve heard in recent times. I’ve known a friend who was told he owed $5000 to Centrelink and spent months proving he didn't; another who was taking his semester's final exams by the time he'd received his first student allowance payment - numerous technical errors in the system left him unable to pay several fortnights of rent at all.
A Senate inquiry committee acknowledged the psychological distress that the system can cause, with one in five debt notices issued incorrectly since mid-last year. (It’s no wonder Centrelink tweeted several referrals to Lifeline for those forced to experience further suffering on top of already harsh situations.)
On top of this, a recent Senate estimates hearing revealed that even if the government contracted 250 additional Centrelink staff, it would still not be achievable for them to catch up on the 42 million missed phone calls that are occurring over a ten month period (with the average wait time at 38 minutes for those who are lucky enough to connect). And as for why Australians need to call Centrelink in the first place - technical errors, poor communication, and an inefficient system are most certainly to blame.
Senate estimates hearing revealed that even if the government contracted 250 additional Centrelink staff, it would still not be achievable for them to catch up on the 42 million missed phone calls
With acknowledgement of a government system causing its innocent, flat-broke and disadvantaged citizens psychological harm, what will be done? How can we assure there will be help for these people?
Well, with a competitive job market, skyrocketing rental costs, and a government welfare agency that ignores the advice it pays for, things are not looking good.
As I attempt to repress my frustration at being caught in this broken system, with its errors and delays causing me to chew through my savings and land in the harsh world of financial hardship, I am still thankful that I won’t need to continue on this road for very long.
As for the rest of you?
Well, tough luck.
*Update: the author has returned to the workforce since the time of writing. Stephanie currently works as an academic writing tutor and freelance editor.
