The constitutional reform project to which Anthony Albanese has committed Australia will prove steeper than the cosmopolitan consensus assumes.
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With admirable purpose, the new Prime Minister has staked his premiership on securing this worthy change and with it, the cohesion of an expansive modern Australia.
Conceding there is a chance of failure, he argues the greater risk comes from not trying at all.
On offer is a national wholeness that has hitherto eluded us. Fall short though and longstanding grievances could well deepen.
Constitutional referenda require committed, and ideally uniform, cross-party support. Even then, less than one in five of the 44 questions proposed, has succeeded.
Tellingly, only once has the country carried a proposal put up by a Labor government and that was 76 years ago.
Still, Albanese and Indigenous Australians Minister Linda Burney speak to a gathering urgency asking, "if not now, when?"
This certainly conveys the referendum's clear moral impetus, casting delay as denial. But how true does it ring in the ears of those not yet alive to the gift of the Uluru Statement from the Heart? Let alone, those whose current answer is "not now, not ever".
What would be the take-out from a determined refusal to acknowledge the original inhabitants and the cultural negation their violent dispossession caused? What would it do to First Nations morale?
Where would a deliberate exclusion from the modern state's birth certificate leave Australia's moral standing? These are big risks.
Many forget that in 1999 the republic question was one of two changes put that day. The other proposed a preamble for the constitution which listed inter alia, "honouring Aborigines and Torres Strait Islanders, the nation's first people, for their deep kinship with their lands and for their ancient and continuing cultures which enrich the life of our country".
It failed even more decisively than the republic idea, with fully 60 per cent of voters opposing it.
Even the ACT voted "no" despite being the only jurisdiction to vote "yes" on the republic.
Have we matured over the intervening years? Perhaps, but the anger of social media and the tantrum populism of the pandemic should give pause for thought.
So, along with the uncomfortable questions above, another arises: How long would it be before anything similar is attempted again? Another quarter of a century, or twice that?
Inherently, reform is hard. Partly this is because, as my dad Ted used to say, there are countless ways to change something, while among those defending the status quo, perfect unity is a given.
Remember the split between the direct election populists and the constitutional minimalists accused of proposing a "politician's republic".
The monarchists entered the debate behind, and won in a canter.
It's the simplest play in the reactionary handbook and reformers get aced by it time and again. On climate, race, human rights, gender equity, tax and transfer reform, you name it.
Despite all the goodwill, the push for constitutional enshrinement of a Voice to Parliament is no different.
The no case will enjoy smooth sailing, propelled by trade winds of simplicity, nostalgic myth, and undercurrents of racism and fear.
The yes case will present as divided from within, complicated and unsettled. Even now, the Greens party is yet to decide its stance.
A further danger arises if the two sides come to align with the two broad political encampments such that identifying with yes or no becomes a proxy for other identifications. This left-right taxonomy neutered climate progress.
There is nothing inherently left wing in the recognition push, yet many of the flag-waving conspiracists and self-styled outsiders who marched against doctors, vaccines, masks, and infection control, could line up against the Voice if only in response to its strong support among urban elites.
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There will be red herrings too. Opponents will claim they want to see practical solutions to First Nations disadvantage, not symbolism.
This despite the reality that most have not lifted a finger to further these "practical" outcomes and react aggressively when their own symbolism is questioned.
The point is, this cohort, which is impervious to reasoned argument and exists beyond the established channels of media discourse, is probably wider than appreciated in elite circles.
When Trump won in 2016, few in the professions thought it possible. It was a similar story with Brexit that same year.
These upsets reflected disaggregated and thus under-measured outsider resentment. Brexit was secured outside London. Trump came through without winning any of the major US cities.
Nobody much saw it coming.
- Mark Kenny is The Canberra Times' political analyst and a professor at the ANU's Australian Studies Institute.