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Well done, Australia. We managed to pull together on a wintry Tuesday night to declare, in the national census, our sexual identities and whether we’re practising or nominal Jedis. Now that we’ve proven our ability to answer mildly invasive questions under bureaucratic pressure, it seems logical to expand the project into tracking our emotional and social intelligence. An adults-only NAPLAN, anyone?
It makes sense – we’re so busy worrying about the next generation’s declining literacy and numeracy levels, we’ve forgotten to track our own brain rot. The kids will be all right. They’ll probably have AI plugged into their skulls as superintelligent, planet-saving beings whose only weakness will be forgetting to charge themselves overnight like an EV.
It’s we, the adults, who doomscroll through TikTok uninhibited, knowing full well it’s turning us into Neanderthals. Here’s a sample question that could be included in the adult NAPLAN, inspired by a recent Macca’s drive-thru with my kids:
When greeting a customer in a retail scenario, the correct salutation is: a) “Are you using the MyMaccas app today?” b) “Hi there! How are you?” c) “I can’t hear you, speak louder”, or d) “Are you ready to order?”
Or try these for size.
A stranger strikes up a conversation in the supermarket line. You: a) Respond politely for 20 to 30 seconds; b) Give a one-word response before turning back to your phone; c) Panic internally and pretend you didn’t hear them; d) Panic internally and overshare something deeply personal about your brother-in-law’s recent gallbladder surgery and subsequent spiritual awakening.
You receive some mildly critical feedback at work. The best response is to: a) Consider it calmly and professionally; b) Feel a surge of rage, then post a long rant on social media about “toxic workplaces” and the need to “protect your peace”, accompanied by a sunset shot you took in Bali in 2019; c) Immediately consult ChatGPT for reassurance about why you’re the only emotionally intelligent person in the building; d) Immediately consult ChatGPT to help write your resignation letter using a “diplomatic” but “passive-aggressive” tone.
It would be useful to track how we’re going with our devices.
You’re watching a 12-minute explanatory video for work. You should: a) Speed it up 1.5x so that you can get to your lunch break faster; b) Watch the first 30 seconds so you “get the gist”; c) Watch it all the way through and pat yourself on the back for being a meditative medieval monk; d) Keep it playing in the background while you open another three tabs and compare the nutritional information for competing brands of oat milk, which spirals into the ethics of oat farming.
You find yourself sitting in a doctor’s waiting room with no Wi-Fi. The mature response is: a) Mentally compose a blog for LinkedIn titled “What a Waiting Room Without Wi-Fi Taught Me About Being Present”; b) Sit quietly and tolerate mild boredom; c) Take an obscene interest in the infomercial on a nearby TV, showing a detailed simulation of the benefits of a new fungal cream (and wonder if you could have gotten into medical school); d) Acknowledge the dawning realisation that you’re about to embark on a very public existential crisis.
Or we could even focus on something a little more recent. You are filling out the 2026 census form. Do you: a) Answer factually and accurately before getting on with another episode of The Traitors; b) Google whether underreporting the number of bedrooms in your house will be noted by the ATO; c) Put your religion as Pastafarian while muttering about government overreach; d) Consult ChatGPT about whether listing your dog as a dependent could result in a fine. (Name: Gary. Occupation: Emotional support. Highest level of education: Can sit.)
If the 2026 census has shown us anything, it’s that we can still be collectively mobilised as a nation. Filling out forms was and always will be a national pastime. But rather than asking for absurdly mundane details about our lives, we should use that precious half-hour to answer more pressing questions about the state of adulthood in 2026. Can you pay attention for longer than 47 seconds? Can you engage in ordinary social interactions without panicking? Can you handle criticism without consulting ChatGPT? Can you respond to bureaucratic questions without jumping to conspiracy theories?
The results would be far more revealing than the current national tally of practising Jedis. Unless, of course, you are one. In which case: may the Force be with you.
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