A Pandemic amongst the Sandstone

During the late 2nd century, the Antonine Plague crippled the Ancient Roman Empire at the very peak of its power. Believed to have been brought back by Roman legions from military campaigns along the Silk Road, the Antonine lasted over 15 years and killed around a third of the population in certain areas. Some historians have marked the pandemic in antiquity as the beginning of Rome’s famous decline. Others prefer to view it as evidence of the Roman people’s resolve, foregrounding the Empire’s rebirth and ability to rule beyond the plague for another two and a half centuries. While interpretations of the pandemic may differ, historians concur on one key point: life after Antonine for the Roman people was never the same.

Like Antonine, the COVID-19 pandemic of 2020 will undoubtedly be remembered throughout history. It is now clear that the virus has not only created a historical global health crisis, but also an economic one. From a legal perspective, we have seen major disruptions to both the commercial industry as well as the courtroom, lawyers were asked to work from home and hearings moved to online platforms, both with varied degrees of success. The classroom has been no different.

As a law student at the University of Sydney, I can attest to the drastic changes that have been made to way students are ‘learning the law’ during the pandemic. In March, as the virus continued to spread, the University of Sydney effectively closed its campus; facilities like libraries and gyms were shut and all lectures and tutorial classes were substituted for online recordings or live video calls. With these changes, many students like myself found it more difficult to maintain motivated study, exacerbated by stress induced by the pandemic and a less tangible link to University life. Not only were students no longer attending classes, catching up with friends (both on and outside of campus) was prevented by social distancing requirements, suppressing the enjoyable, social side of University life. International and inter-state students were faced with the additional complexity of border closures and travel restrictions. For me, it was an ultimatum between packing a bag and rushing to the Queensland border or hunkering down and waiting out an unforecastable storm in Sydney!

As someone who prefers routine face-to-face learning, the new laissez faire online approach was a challenge, though not without its perks. Online learning certainly provided students with more flexibility, specifically, the freedom to complete content in their own time, study from the convenience of their own homes and, a personal favourite, wake up 10 minutes before their online classes (which I had certainly been guilty of on occasion even prior to the pandemic). Gone was the Monday 10:30–10:35 race across campus between International Law and Financial Valuations classes! However, I soon realised that the online classroom was imperfect, even if I could take part in it from the comfort of my own PJs. I missed participating directly with my tutors and fellow classmates. I missed asking questions without having to press the unmute button and interrupt awkwardly. I missed a certain sense of engagement I could seemingly only find on USYD campus. While I admit I was impressed by the ability of technologies like Zoom to facilitate a classroom-like environment, a certain ingredient of the learning process was lacking, leaving me ‘full’, yet never satisfied. Slowly, online classes began to lose their initial charm.

However, as I (like others) grew more familiar with the online environment I began to adapt. I learned to accept that digital learning was never going to be the same as it was in person, and I stopped focusing so much on its limitations. It was clear that the University was making the most of a bad situation to which there was no better alternative. Indeed, some of my friends studying more practical-based disciplines such a physiotherapy or electrical engineering surely had it worse. Perhaps I was just being too harsh. The frictions involved with online learning were unpopular, but certainly not intolerable.

It was with this gradual adjustment to online learning that my peers and I came to contemplate important questions surrounding the value of digital education more seriously. Questions that are becoming increasingly relevant against the backdrop of the education industry’s shift toward more flexible online learning over the past decade. However, as technologies continue to advance, could COVID-19 serve as a catalyst for the further adoption of online learning platforms? I find the prospect as intimidating as it is exciting. Clearly, digitalisation has both benefits and limitations. Online learning may have the potential to provide more flexible education, with greater reach at lower costs but I have found it comes with a trade-off in personal development and interpersonal relationships. For me, exclusively online learning lacks the required balance between both.

Ultimately, it seems in the current climate there is extraordinarily little we can be sure of. However, if we are to heed the teachings of antiquity, one thing we can be certain of is change. Indeed, it is safe to forecast that as we begin to emerge into the post-COVID environment, of which the details are still blurry, our workplaces, our courtrooms and our classrooms, like those of the Romans, will never be the same.

I think the writings of Marcus Aurelius, ruler of the Roman Empire during the Antonine, are be particularly pertinent. Aurelius described change as a ‘river’, with a ‘strong current’ in which much of the old is eventually ‘swept away’. COVID-19 has caused a tidal-wave’s worth of changes. Yet the elements of our classrooms, workplaces and courtrooms which will remain in place once the water subsides is yet to be determined. I think if we are to ensure that our ‘new world’ following COVID-19 leads not to a Romanesque decline but instead a progressive rebirth we must carefully chose the things we allow to be swept away.

Oscar Pursey

Third Year Commerce and Law student,

University of Sydney