The COVID-19 pandemic is upending life as we know it. Social gatherings are prohibited, public spaces closed. Governments around the world are instructing their citizens to stay home. In Australia, state premiers have told parents to keep children home from school where possible, and it’s likely that in Term Two, teachers will deliver all classes online.
But, for now, schools remain open, to the chagrin of many who believe they should be shut for the safety of students, teachers and the wider community. Classes can be taught online, they argue, and, in an era of advanced remote technology, it’s true — they can.
As a freelance journalist, I’ve worked from home for years. While sometimes I complain about our Internet speed, I’ve successfully interviewed people from all over the world from my dining room table. Now, thanks to COVID-19, life has taken an unexpected turn, and I find myself attempting to home-school my seven-year-old daughter. Yesterday, she did her weekly music lesson via Zoom. This morning, I downloaded a lesson plan provided by her teacher, which includes a link to a workout uploaded to YouTube by an energetic PE teacher in the UK. Later, she’ll do an art lesson on Instagram and learn French via an iPad app.
So far, so good — but, of course, all of the above relies on access to a laptop or tablet and the internet, luxuries not universally available to Australian students. In 2016-17, 1.25 million Australian households lacked the home internet connection that’s required to make full use of online learning platforms like Class Dojo, where my daughter’s class is congregating during the coronavirus lockdown.
According to the Australian Digital Inclusion Index (ADII), digital inclusion — whether a person can access, afford and have the digital ability to connect and use online technologies effectively — is influenced by differences in income, age, education levels, employment and geography. Digital exclusion often goes hand in hand with other forms of social disadvantage. Indigenous Australians, people who have a disability, have low incomes, or live in rural and remote locations are among the most digitally excluded groups in the country. ‘In general,’ notes the report, ‘Australians with low levels of income, education, and employment are significantly less digitally included,’ which creates ‘a substantial digital divide between richer and poorer Australians.’
Tellingly, it was private schools that led the way in sending students home to learn online, perhaps safe in the knowledge that their students’ affluent households would have ready access to the internet. In the public system, where students are more likely to have parents who earn below-average incomes or who have had a limited education, that’s not a reliable assumption to make. If we close schools completely, what happens to those students who don’t have digital access? Or, for that matter, to those students for whom school is a refuge from a dangerous or unstable home?
The digital divide is evident not just in education. Internet access is a prerequisite to participating in the digital economy. It’s also essential for completing many of the tasks modern life requires. For years, we have seen the gradual shift of everyday services like welfare and banking to the internet. In a matter of weeks, we’ve seen the Coronavirus pandemic effectively shut the door to the offline world.
'As we retreat to the relative safety of the online world to work, learn and socialise, we must think about who we are leaving behind — vulnerable people of all ages.'
This is a particular problem for people aged over 65 — the group that is most at risk of COVID-19 and the most digitally excluded in the country. According to the ADII, digital inclusion diminishes with age. Digital inclusion is about access and affordability, but it’s also about ability. Many people aged 65 and over lack the digital skills required to navigate the online world without assistance, and it is at public libraries — all closed due to the pandemic — where they typically seek help. For many elderly Australians who are now cut off from both face-to-face and virtual interactions, ‘social distancing’ looks and feels a lot like loneliness.
As we retreat to the relative safety of the online world to work, learn and socialise, we must think about who we are leaving behind — vulnerable people of all ages. Now, more than ever, it’s clear that the digital divide further entrenches inequality — something we must address post-pandemic.
Nicola Heath is a freelance journalist who writes about the workplace, social affairs, sustainability, and the arts and entertainment. She tweets at @nicoheath.
Main image: Computers sitting empty at a library (Getty images/Andersen Ross Photography Inc)