by Rachel Stewart

“Incompetent” and “inadequate” is how Winston Peters described the latest Covid Inquiry report to RCR’s Paul Brennan this week. It’s a good watch, not least because he’s even more definitively pissed off than usual.

Now, I could go on ad infinitum about everything in that report. But it’s fair to say that my media outlet – RCR – has been across this like Vaseline on nappy rash. You don’t need the details from me about why the Inquiry had the decidedly wrong parameters from the start, and what naughty little Chippy is lying about. You already know he is. It’s irrefutable.

Nor do you need to hear about the sheer negligence involved around the advice Ministers completely ignored from health officials. They knew better, of course, because they’re from the Government.

You also don’t need me to opine on the legacy media’s intentional failures throughout the last six years and how, right now, it’s just another whitewash. The headlines have told you nothing of any consequence basically, and that’s how they want it to roll. The less you know the better. They know best.

So what do I want to talk about? Something I’ve never talked about publicly before. My own personal experience with the jab, lockdowns, and mandates. It’s taken me this long to get my head around it. Or even want to go there. Not that it’s terribly dramatic. It’s not. It’s entirely pedestrian actually, which I think it was for many of us. And that’s a perspective worth sharing.

I clearly remember saying to my partner at the time that something was brewing in China, and it looked to be a big deal. She shrugged it off saying it’ll turn out to be nothing, but I had my doubts. Sure enough, we were soon forced to jump into the collective waka of fear except we didn’t really feel any. We didn’t panic buy toilet paper or rush out to buy masks. Nor did we line up to get the jab.

My recollection is that we thought we’d watch and wait. We weren’t particularly for or against vaccines, but something felt off. Like many, the whole scene was rapidly unfolding, the pressure to comply was insane, and we initially relied on our gut.

My job was in media, and my partner’s was science-based – as in ecologist. So I kept watching the media like a hawk who hasn’t eaten in a week, and she kept watching the science. For me, the media was trying to sell us something so hard that I knew in my bones it was wrong. For her, she kept saying that the data set just wasn’t there.

Then there was the daily unfunny stand-up comedy act. The Podium of Truth was worth watching if only for the almost ritualistic sight of sanitised handwringing and stage-managed unpeeling of masks all done before pews filled with reverent, compliant, and, as it turned out, paid off media. It was a spectacle of acquiescence, and fake solemnity. They were the pious and the worthy.

Weeks and months went by and both of our positions solidified. We would regularly compare notes. And then the rubber really started hitting the road when the mandates that we were promised would never happen happened. I was self-employed and wasn’t forced to decide. But my partner worked for the Government and could only drift along unvaxxed for so long before the whip came out.

I had no idea which way she would go. I was stunned when in the office they separated her, and a handful of others into what the other employees colloquially called the “departure lounge”. She was more sanguine about it than I was, but she never wavered. I’m fairly sure that the ill-treatment by her employers towards a few non-compliant, and clearly intelligent staff, made her even more sure about her decision. The whole thing was indecent and inhumane.

After a few weeks of that, the office shut down and everyone was required to work from home. I can’t remember the timeline exactly, but the bosses needed her to explain why she wouldn’t get the vax.

She prepared for days what she was going to say to these various non-scientist overlords and did so over a Zoom call. It was a stressful and anxious time – not least because she had worked for the organisation for over 30 years and was reduced to making the case for her job due to choosing what to do with her own body.

In the meantime, close friends and neighbours were in full judgement mode. I had two nieces who didn’t speak to either of us for two years. All of those relationships have never fully recovered. The pressure was growing every day.

Then there were the people we knew who were having undeniable side effects from the vaccine. Except every day we were being gaslit by the media that we were “cookers” and “anti-science”.

I remember seeing my dentist on the street after one of the lockdowns ended and he was aghast when I told him I hadn’t had the jab. He straight-faced said, “Rachel, you’re intelligent. You must follow the science” and I said, “Do you mean follow the money?” He’s never looked in my mouth again.

Back at home my partner was waiting to hear her fate. Was her stellar, unblemished career over? Did her perfectly coherent stance mean no second chance? Saved in the nick of time, her bosses delayed their decision for months, and then the mandates were lifted. No apologies, no discussions. Life carried on and here we all are today.

New Zealand is broke, still divided in a myriad of ways, and our mainstream media has never been worse. Certain politicians have been found out, but there will be no consequences. What a world!

So that’s my story. It’s unremarkable. Bland even. Just an ordinary story of ordinary people in extraordinary times.

Listen to the full episode of Riding Shotgun.