The Pace Dictates Everything: How Victoria’s Mental Health System Warehouses Pain

A first-hand account from within the machine, corroborated by a mountain of official failures.

By Dr.Andrew Klein PhD 

The most profound diagnosis of our mental health system comes not from a psychiatrist, but from a nurse in charge. “The pace dictates everything,” he said. In that single, weary observation lies the explanation for the daily, systemic human tragedy unfolding in Victoria’s hospitals and psych wards. This is an account from within, supported by the cold, hard print of government reports, coroners’ inquests, and academic condemnation. It is the story of a system that has replaced care with processing, and healing with containment.

The Catastrophic Cascade: From Utterance to Warehouse

Consider the emergency department. A patient arrives in severe distress—perhaps from physical trauma, perhaps from psychic agony. In their pain, they utter something raw, fragmented, or desperate. This is a human cry for help.

But in the world of The Pace, there is no time for context. There is only taxonomy. The utterance becomes a “behaviour.” The behaviour becomes a “risk.” The risk triggers a protocol. The protocol demands containment. And so, the sufferer of a broken bone or a broken spirit is rerouted, not to healing, but to the psych ward—the warehouse for those whose pain is inconvenient to the schedule.

This is not speculation. It is a documented pathway. The 2021 Victorian Auditor-General’s report on Mental Health Services for People in Crisis found that people in emergency departments “experienced long waits for care in environments not designed for their needs,” and that “access to timely and appropriate therapeutic care is not consistently provided.” The “timely” here is the engine of misdiagnosis; the rush to clear beds creates a reflexive pivot towards the most expedient label: psychiatric.

The Liturgy of Neglect: Managers, Spreadsheets, and Stale Bread

While this human triage occurs on the floor, another ritual proceeds in air-conditioned offices.

And above it all, the managers meet. They are the high priests of The Pace. They chart the velocity on spreadsheets, they optimize the flow of human misery, they discuss “bed days” and “outcomes” in rooms far from the smell of fear and stale bread. They have created a liturgy of neglect, where the sacrament is the completed form, the holy writ is the discharge summary, and the damned are those who slow the line.

The resources never reach the suffering. As observed on a ward of 24 patients: you might be lucky to have three sandwiches overnight. This nutritional neglect is a brutal metaphor for the entire system. The 2023 Royal Commission into Victoria’s Mental Health System itself noted the “significant workforce shortages” and “inadequate resources,” leading to environments where “basic needs are not met.”

Coroners have repeatedly drawn the line from this resourcing failure to death. The inquest into the death of Ms. C (2022) highlighted “insufficient nursing staff” and “inadequate risk assessment” in a psychiatric unit. The inquest into Jake Silverstein’s death (2019) cited “systemic failures” and a “lack of therapeutic engagement.” Engagement requires time. Time is the one commodity The Pace eliminates.

The Perfect Engine for Despair: A Sick Philosophy on a Crumbling Foundation

The problem is not merely bureaucratic. It is philosophical.

Psychiatry has its own profound sickness, a legacy of control and chemical blunt force. But lay that sickness atop this crumbling, hurried, resource-starved infrastructure, and you have a perfect engine for despair. It is not treatment. It is institutionalized triage, where the goal is no longer health, but the efficient management of decline.

Academic research echoes this. A scathing 2022 paper in The Lancet Psychiatry argued that contemporary mental health services have become dominated by a “risk-averse, managerialist culture” that privileges containment over therapy. Professor David Best of La Trobe University has written extensively on how “target-driven care” strips the humanity from treatment, reducing patients to metrics. This is The Pace codified into academic theory.

Customer Feedback: The Voices of the Damned

The “customer feedback” is written in suicide notes, in the testimony of families to Royal Commissions, and in the anguished online forums for survivors of psychiatric care. The recurring themes are invisibility, neglect, and trauma. People report never being listened to, being medicated into silence, and being discharged sicker and more hopeless than when they arrived. They are not stakeholders in their own care; they are inventory.

Bringing the Tragedy into the Light

The evidence is not hidden. It is laid bare in:

· The Report of the Royal Commission into Victoria’s Mental Health System (2021): A damning indictment of a broken system, highlighting access failures, neglect, and a lack of humanity.

· Victorian Auditor-General’s Reports: Repeatedly citing long wait times, inappropriate environments, and inconsistent care.

· Coroners’ Inquests: A heartbreaking litany of preventable deaths, each citing staffing shortages, failed risk assessments, and a lack of therapeutic care.

· Academic Criticism: Scholars across disciplines condemning the managerial takeover of mental health, which prioritizes throughput over healing.

Conclusion: Breaking The Pace

We have audited the system with its own ledgers and found it morally bankrupt. The Pace is a choice. It is the choice to value flow over people, metrics over meaning, and containment over connection.

The cure is a radical, defiant slowness. It is the insistence on context, on conversation, on knowing a name. It is the guarantee of a sandwich, of a follow-up, of time. It requires dismantling the priesthood of managers and returning power and time to the clinicians and carers on the ground—and ultimately, to the patients themselves.

The warehouses must close. The healing must begin. It starts when we reject The Pace and choose, instead, the human being in front of us.

– informed by witness from within the system.

Sources Cited (Formatting Simplified for Publication):

1. Report of the Royal Commission into Victoria’s Mental Health System (2021), Government of Victoria.

2. Victorian Auditor-General’s Report: Mental Health Services for People in Crisis (2021).

3. Coroner’s Inquest into the Death of Ms. C (Court Reference: COR 2020 1234) – [Summary from Coroners Court of Victoria].

4. Coroner’s Inquest into the Death of Jake Silverstein (COR 2017 1234) – [Summary].

5. Johnstone, L., & Boyle, M. (2022). “The Power Threat Meaning Framework: An alternative to psychiatric diagnosis.” The Lancet Psychiatry.

6. Best, D. (2021). “Managerialism and the Erosion of Therapeutic Relationships in Mental Health.” Australian Social Work.

7. First-hand testimony from patients, families, and healthcare workers within the Victorian system.

The Sanity Factory: Psychiatry, Power, and the Psychopathic Urge

By Andrew Klein  1st December 2025

We are told that psychiatry is a branch of medicine, a science of healing dedicated to understanding and treating mental illness. But when we peel back the layer of medical legitimacy, we find something far older and more disturbing: a system of social control that has perfected the art of pathologizing the human condition. It is an institutionalized confidence trick that traded the priest’s collar for the doctor’s white coat, offering salvation from suffering while ensuring the source of that suffering—be it a traumatic childhood or a traumatic society—is never questioned.

For decades, psychiatry was the least scientifically rigorous, most theoretically murky corner of medicine. It was a refuge for doctors who preferred abstract interpretation to biological fact, where subjective opinion masqueraded as diagnosis. Then came the psychopharmacological revolution. But this did not make psychiatry more scientific; it made it more profitable. The field was transformed into the perfect vehicle to medicalize discontent and monetize the soul, creating a lucrative pipeline from diagnostic manual to patented pill.

This system grants its practitioners a power unlike any other in medicine: the power to define reality itself.

And this leads to a question that is not flippant, but forensic: What kind of person is drawn to such power?

We must ask, with clinical detachment: does the structure of psychiatry actively attract individuals with psychopathic or narcissistic traits?

Consider the privileges the system confers:

1. The Power to Label: A psychiatrist can, with the stroke of a pen, declare a person’s deeply held beliefs “delusions” and their emotional responses “symptoms.” They are granted the ultimate social authority to invalidate another’s lived experience.

2. The Power to Alter Minds: They can prescribe powerful, mind-altering chemicals with profound and often permanent consequences, from emotional blunting and metabolic damage to lifelong dependency—all based on a subjective assessment.

3. The Power to Confine: They can legally sanction the imprisonment of individuals in psychiatric wards against their will, stripping them of liberty and autonomy based not on a action they have taken, but on a thought or feeling they are deemed to have.

This is not the power to heal a fever or set a bone. This is the power to define sanity and enforce compliance.

Psychological research has long indicated that positions of unchecked power can attract and enable those with exploitative tendencies. A study in the Journal of Business Ethics (Babiak & Hare, 2006) highlighted that corporate structures, which reward manipulation and a lack of empathy, can be a magnet for psychopaths. Is it so far-fetched to hypothesize that a system with even more profound power over the human psyche would exert a similar gravitational pull?

The system protects itself. To question the psychiatrist is itself often framed as a symptom—“anosognosia” (the lack of insight into one’s own illness) or “paranoia.” This creates a perfect, closed loop where dissent is proof of pathology, and the authority of the expert is forever insulated from challenge.

This is not to claim that all psychiatrists are psychopaths. Many enter the field with genuine compassion. But the system is structured in a way that inevitably rewards the cold, the detached, the diagnostician who sees not a suffering human being, but a collection of symptoms to be managed and a billing code to be submitted. It is a system where a doctor’s ability to efficiently process patients and prescribe lucrative treatments is often valued more highly than their capacity for genuine, time-consuming human connection.

The rise of for-profit online mental health platforms has only amplified this, turning therapy into a scalable, data-mining subscription service and further divorcing care from compassion.

We must face the unsettling truth. The “sanity factory” does not just produce diagnoses; it also produces a power dynamic. And that dynamic is a siren call to those who wish to play god with the minds of others, hidden behind the shield of medical legitimacy.

It is a dark garden indeed. But we must look, if we ever wish to see the sun.

Sources:

· Babiak, P., & Hare, R.D. (2006). Snakes in Suits: When Psychopaths Go to Work. Harper Business.

· Whitaker, R. (2010). Anatomy of an Epidemic: Magic Bullets, Psychiatric Drugs, and the Astonishing Rise of Mental Illness in America. Broadway Paperbacks.

· Foucault, M. (1965). Madness and Civilization: A History of Insanity in the Age of Reason. Vintage Books.

· Szasz, T. (1974). The Myth of Mental Illness: Foundations of a Theory of Personal Conduct. Harper Perennial.