Traditionally, a week is a long time in politics. In the time of the coronavirus, however, an hour goes by so fast. And where a leader’s missteps might once have threatened only their career, maybe an election, now they threaten lives and livelihoods. The stakes are unfathomably high.

In this all-encompassing health and economic crisis, everyone needs to be acting on health advice, communicating the issues and the decisions with clarity, and to be seen to be doing everything possible to protect lives and cushion the economic blow – especially politicians.

That there are now so many questions, contradictions and concerns demonstrates not only the gravity of the situation but the foolishness of politics based on fear and punchy slogans, the erosion of trust in experts and institutions, the unintended impacts of digital disruption and a modern class structure based on age and job security. This is the reckoning and it will continue well beyond 2020.

Only a few short weeks ago, Queensland Premier Annastacia Palaszczuk was on the front foot over the looming pandemic. She was one of the first to demand the federal Coalition Government impose travel restrictions, which it did in spectacular fashion. Queensland’s health response led the nation.

Palaszczuk continued to demand disaster payments, as would occur in a flood or drought, and for better information out of Canberra. Prime Minister Scott Morrison did not always respond positively, but that did not undermine the state Labor leader in any way: Queenslanders at least knew Palaszczuk had their back.

Now, for better or for worse, Palaszczuk is lock-step with Morrison. The political tension that Australians are accustomed to – between state and federal governments, between Labor and the Coalition – is suddenly gone. New national Cabinet arrangements have given leaders the confidence to act with apparent consensus, speaking as one. Yet their failure to promptly and properly explain their differences – and the inherent uncertainty around this pandemic – is easily mistaken for disunity. And that may undermine the whole rescue effort.

On Sunday night, Morrison criticised those who kept gathering in large numbers in public, or stockpiling groceries, instead of taking advice to distance themselves. That, he said, had prompted the forced closure of various businesses from today. But the Prime Minister should also take some blame for his poor messaging, for failing to lead people to safety and then lecturing them for not showing up. He is, after all, the former tourism chief who approved a campaign centred on a bikini-clad Aussie asking ‘Where the bloody hell are you?’ and then tried to defend its limited appeal overseas.

If Morrison stuck to the facts, and spoke sincerely about the uncertainties, he would have the nation in a stronger position. Maybe he will today. Indeed, at various times during this crisis, people have commended him for doing just that – only for the Prime Minister to then be slammed as a hectoring dad-like figure not across the detail and ignorant to community concerns.

Palaszczuk and her state and territory counterparts echoed the Prime Minister today, and seem to find a more receptive audience. But there are still mixed messages, particularly on the fate of schools. The pubs and clubs are closing indefinitely from today, to limit the spread of coronavirus, yet the schools are staying open. There are reasons for all this – evidence-based pandemic plans lay out the difficult balancing act – but they should have been outlined weeks ago, and repeated every day since. Governments had been warned to prepare for a pandemic.

To many Queenslanders, Palaszczuk has been the friend they need, through this and other rough periods. The woman willing to speak up when things aren’t right, to applaud someone doing a good job, to explain things in a simple, no-nonsense way. But there comes a point when people turn on leaders like this and ask what they are doing about it. That point has come, and her government’s answer will come in the next economic response, to be announced tomorrow.

Here, again, is a contrast between federal and state government. The Morrison Government has long focused on cutting spending, to balance the Budget and achieve the political glory of a surplus. Now, it is spending billions to help Australians make it through.

The Palaszczuk Government came to power on the back of concerns over the state Coalition having cut spending, and has since boosted services and left the budget deep in debt. Now, faced with falling revenues, Palaszczuk and Treasurer Jackie Trad may be left without many options – and in Queensland’s darkest hour, too.

There are benefits in incumbency but not always. Council mayors will likely be re-elected this weekend – if the polls stay open – but things are changing rapidly.

Opposition leaders Anthony Albanese and Deb Frecklington should be lock-step with the leaders, ready to contribute, but may also see political benefit in distancing themselves. To date, some celebrities have had a bigger impact than these shadows.

As Palaszczuk points out, Queensland is accustomed to natural disasters, which often require a bushfire to burn out, or a flood to subside, for the real work to begin. In a pandemic, millions of people form that fire front, that flood peak, and politicians can rally them to be the saviour or the danger. Communication, and trust, is key.

Unfortunately, too many politicians have seen short-term benefit in polarising society, giving power to shock jocks or social media rallies, making people angry and dismissive and all too keen to take sides. They have put slogans above sincerity, drama above detail, and now we are all paying the price.

This rot began long before the climate change debate, long before the border wars, long before the GFC and every effort to manipulate voters. It began with politicians simply not understanding people and their very real concerns.

Remember all those election campaigns where an FM radio host would trip up a politician by asking the price of a loaf of bread? Remember a former leader’s televised demise when he could not explain how the GST applied to a birthday cake? It is mid-March, in a pandemic that will last all year, and the combined might of federal, state and territory government leaders is still struggling to explain the macro let alone the micro. There is no bread, no cake, and no reason to celebrate.