In 1858, Abraham Lincoln challenged Americans to forge consensus for the national good in the face of enduring divisions around the issue of slavery. Lincoln understood that unity of purpose, grounded in shared understanding of present and past, was key to overcoming crises. ‘A house divided against itself cannot stand,’ he declared, but ‘If we could first know where we are, and whither we are tending, we could then better judge what to do, and how to do it.’1 Lincoln’s urging did not avert the civil war, but his narrative informed subsequent understandings of its causes and lessons.
The advice remains relevant. A crisis can be galvanising, but forging opportunity and prosperity out of calamity calls for cooperation, resolve and unity. It requires a unifying national narrative; an articulation of shared history, values and aspirations to instil hope and rally Australians to a common cause. Discussions of constitutional reform, including a republic, afford opportunities for articulation of where we have come from, where we are now, and where we want to get to. When as a country we become clearer about who we are and what we want, we will be better able to work together to solve the challenges we face.
After the pandemic, the opportunity for fortifying national unity and independence should not be squandered. The importance of national sovereignty has been confirmed: we cannot rely solely on other countries for production of essentials. We must be self-reliant. The importance of independent, efficient decision-making in the national interest is clear—in responding to the virus, our leaders did not founder like those of the United Kingdom and the United States, and many Australian lives were saved. We must have full authority over our own affairs. The importance of national solidarity, including protecting the vulnerable, is evident. We must look after each other.
Emerging from isolation, there will be opportunity and need for nation-building reforms that affirm our values and unite Australians. First, by establishing a First Nations voice in the Constitution. This must be the top priority. Second, by formalising and finalising our independence, by becoming a republic. Third, by enacting a symbolic, extra-constitutional Declaration of Australia, to bring together the three stories that make us one: the Indigenous, the British and the multicultural. A declaration to unite Australians.
Seven ideas for a revised republican strategy
If Australia is to become a republic, fresh thinking is needed. The lessons of the failed 1999 republic referendum must be understood, and a new approach devised. Here I offer seven preliminary ideas to stimulate discussion.
1. Republicans need a united strategy
In the 1990s, despite the Constitutional Convention producing a compromise model (two-thirds parliamentary appointment of the head of state), the campaign faltered because of divisions among republicans. Key direct electionists joined forces with the monarchists to run a republican ‘No’ case, and a significant portion of Australians who voted ‘no’ preferred direct election rather than parliamentary appointment. The model was also attacked by minimalists such as Richard McGarvie. It was derided both by republicans who thought it was too radical and by republicans who thought it was not radical enough.
The convention did not help in this regard. It was adversarial and included monarchists, which, as Benjamin T Jones describes, was like ‘a coach inviting opposing players to discuss team tactics before a grand final’.2 It consolidated divisions rather than fostering solidarity.
This mistake must not be repeated. Republicans must unite to achieve success. Republican consensus on the model and strategy should be the first step. This requires a different, internal consensus-building process, to enable republicans to come to a considered view on what to advocate and how to proceed, then execute their strategy in a united and disciplined way.
In 2020, the Australian Republic Movement resolved to form republican consensus on the model instead of pursuing advisory public plebiscites.3 This seems sensible. While Labor policy is to hold a plebiscite before working out the model4, this may defer difficult questions. The groundwork should be done now to consolidate republican consensus on the model and devise a strategy to achieve it.
2. A republic must be progressive and conservative
Constitutional reform requires a ‘double majority’ referendum,5 and only eight out of forty-four Australian referendums have succeeded. In deciding the preferred model and devising an appropriate strategy, republicans must bear in mind that bipartisanship is usually considered a prerequisite for referendum success. This ingredient was missing in 1999. While Labor supported a republic, the Liberal government was split. Then-prime minister John Howard was a monarchist: a referendum has never succeeded in Australia without solid prime ministerial support.
The republic was criticised as a progressive and elitist agenda. In 1999, more Labor supporters voted ‘yes’, Liberals were split, and more Nationals voted ‘no’. High-income, urban, tertiary-educated Australians tended to vote ‘yes’, while low-income, less educated, rural and regional Australians tended to vote ‘no’. After the May 2019 election, this is a familiar fault line: the republic appealed more to post-materialist progressives.
To succeed, republican arguments must speak to progressive and conservative values. For conservatives, inherited institutions and traditions are important and should not be lightly disregarded. Yet, as Thomas Keneally reflected on the 1999 campaign, republicans tended to ‘buoyantly and exuberantly’ dismiss monarchist ‘pleas for constitutional stability’ as meritless and archaic, which was not the best way to win a referendum.6
To win wide consensus, conservative concerns cannot be dismissed; they should be reconciled with republican aims. This means transcending our usual tribalisms and collaborating across political divides. The next campaign for a republic must go beyond left and right.
3. Transcending the culture wars: An affirmational republic?
In Australia, debates about national symbols—be it a republic, flags, monuments or the date we celebrate Australia—tend to ignite vicious culture and history wars. Republicans must therefore consider how to defuse this polarising dynamic. Can we prosecute a republic in a way that positively affirms, rather than rejects, Australia’s British inheritance while equally affirming Indigenous and multicultural contributions?
Some republican rhetorical flourishes are not conducive to consensus. Characterising Australia as ‘a small, white, colonial outpost’7 clinging to a monarch whose retention legitimises the ‘racist and xenophobic attitudes of white Australians’,8 for example, may not win many white votes in rural Australia. Similarly, arguing for a republic as a way of demonstrating that ‘we are no longer white supremacists afflicted with delusion’9 may turn some people off. Regardless of one’s views on factual accuracy, such framing positions Australian republicanism unhelpfully on one side of contemporary culture wars.
We must focus on what unites, rather than on what divides. We can’t just preach to the converted. Noel Pearson’s insight that Australian affinities for Britain should be reconciled with republicanism10 is bolstered by the evidence. Many direct electionists who voted ‘no’ in 1999 were found to ‘mildly favour change, but not at the risk of undermining Australia’s traditional symbols of nationhood and … British heritage’.11 They tended to be more ‘conservative on constitutional ties with Britain and the Queen’,12 which shows that Australians with republican leanings may nonetheless feel affection for Britain.
It should not be either-or. We can become a republic and affirm our British inheritance. We can do this structurally and symbolically. Structurally, we should not reject all the language and forms of Britain, which are part of our institutional inheritance and could be incorporated into an Australian republic. Symbolically, we can affirm the equal importance of the Indigenous, the British and the multicultural for Australia’s national identity through an inclusive Declaration of Australia.13
4. The practical problem is small: Updating constitutional machinery
Before deciding about models, republicans must get clear on what they are trying to achieve. No coherent strategy can proceed without answering the preliminary question of purpose: what problem does a republic seek to fix? Unless a clear answer to the ‘why’ question can be articulated, agreement on the ‘how’ strategy will remain confused.
As a concept, the republic is notoriously ‘elastic and emotional’,14 largely because republicans consistently articulate a primarily symbolic, rather than structural, purpose. As John Hirst explained:
Our dissatisfaction is not with the working of our present Constitution. Our dissatisfaction is with the British monarchy as a symbol of the Australian nation. We need to deal with the Constitution only as a consequence of the removal of that symbol.15
Yet the symbolic framing lends itself to confusion once advocates take the next logical step in the conversation—into the technical weeds of models and their practical implications for Australian governance. A better approach is to identify the dual, separate but connected purposes driving republican reform. The first problem is practical, and it is smaller and simpler than grand republican rhetoric usually suggests. The second problem, however, is symbolic. For conceptual clarity, these dual purposes should be separated. Each driving purpose may logically require a different solution.
The practical problem is small, because Australia has already evolved into an independent nation. In 1977 we abandoned ‘God Save the Queen’ as our national anthem. Citizenship oaths have evolved to reflect our independence. The 1986 Australia Acts severed most remaining legal links with the United Kingdom. The governor-general is now appointed by the Queen on the advice of the Australian prime minister instead of British ministers. The Queen’s involvement in Australian affairs has diminished, while the functions of her domestic representatives have expanded and become Australianised.
Once the independent character of our nation is understood, the scope of the required constitutional reform logically becomes narrower. Australia is already almost, but not quite, a republic. The final, small step to full independence lies in removing the (now minor) role of the Queen from Australia’s constitutional arrangements. In practice, her role now involves only the appointment and removal of the governor-general (on the advice of the prime minister).
Removing the Queen’s role in these procedures would be a minor but necessary constitutional closure: a final, formal tick-off. This is the practical problem that needs to be solved. The Constitution still requires that we ask the British Queen to appoint and dismiss our Australian governor-general, which is outdated, inefficient and impractical for an independent nation. We should not have to ask the British Queen to approve any domestic decisions.
It is a simpler and smaller pitch, calling for minor updating of constitutional machinery. Yet this approach may prove more persuasive. The history of constitutional reform shows Australians vote ‘yes’ to solve practical issues of government, which fits with the practical nature of the Constitution. To succeed, republicans need to explain the small, practical problem that needs to be fixed and why it is worth fixing.
5. The symbolic problem is big: We need an extra-constitutional declaration!
The secondary problem, however, is symbolic, and its resolution can be as expansive and ambitious as our imaginations allow. A republic should affirm and declare our nation in a way that unites Australians. In 1999, Howard put to the people a symbolic preamble alongside the republic referendum. Many Indigenous leaders opposed it, various legal scholars raised concerns, and Australians voted ‘no’—only 39.34 per cent approved of it.
A new constitutional preamble is not the best way to achieve a symbolic declaration of our country. The words would be whittled down to pointlessness in constitutional drafting discussions because of concerns about legal implications. This was a problem the First Nations dialogues understood in considering Indigenous constitutional recognition, which is why the Referendum Council in 2017 recommended an extra-constitutional declaration instead of a preamble.16
A declaration outside the Constitution could more expansively articulate our history and aspirations, without concerns about constitutional implications. It could poetically bring together the three parts of our national story—the Indigenous, the British and the multicultural. The declaration could be drafted and agreed by all Australian governments, with the assent of the First Nations Voice, for added historic gravitas. That would be more inspiring than a preamble. Such a document could be Australia’s Declaration of Independence.
6. We should interrogate the instinctive popularity of ‘direct election’
Returning to the practical question of constitutional models, the direct election conundrum must be carefully considered. Direct election of the head of state was most favoured by the public in 1999. Yet this view may be an instinctive rather than an informed preference. It may have been prompted by use of the word ‘president’ and lack of detailed consideration of the constitutional implications. Deliberative polling suggests that, while support for a republic increases with information, support for direct election decreases once participants have an opportunity to consider potential problems, including the risk that the head of state may become politicised.17 Support may therefore dwindle under scrutiny and debate, in line with usual referendum patterns.
In determining models, it’s important to begin from first principles. The method of choosing the head of state should be consistent with Australia’s form of government. Unlike the US president, the Australian governor-general does not wield political power. The founders considered that election would be inappropriate as it may politicise the office and create conflict, and the push for an elected governor-general was defeated during the nineteenth-century constitutional conventions.18 In the 1990s, most experts and leaders similarly opposed direct election,19 probably because of their knowledge of the Australian constitutional system and the nature of the office.
In parliamentary systems like Australia’s, the political and the ceremonial power of the executive are separated. The prime minister and ministers wield political executive power; the Queen and governor-general wield mostly ceremonial power. This separation prevents excessive accumulation of political power and symbolic prestige in one person or office, providing a useful ‘check on the egomania of politicians’.20 The crucial question is do we want our head of state to be politicised, or do we want to protect the role’s neutrality?
Many submissions to the 2004 Senate inquiry favoured the Australian head of state maintaining the same powers to the current governor-general and fulfilling an apolitical role.21 Most felt the position should be an unbiased ‘guardian’ or ‘umpire’ of the Constitution.22 A neutral umpire role is inconsistent with politicisation. This is why direct election should not be pursued, even if it may be instinctively popular. Leaders should not just pursue what might be popular. They must also pursue what is good for the country and Constitution while safeguarding constitutional stability and continuity, and guide the public in the right direction.
Advocates consistently emphasise that a republic does not mean far-reaching structural transformation. As noted above, it is a formal, final tick-off. As Paul Keating put it, a republic is not a ‘radical undertaking’; rather, it is a ‘small but important step’ involving ‘very limited implications for the design of Australia’s democracy’.23 If this is the aim, then direct election does not seem a good solution.
7. Can we keep the governor-general?
In approaching constitutional reform, we should change that which needs to be changed, but we should not pursue change for change’s sake.
The governor-general is Australia’s de facto head of state. Under a republic, he or she could become Australia’s actual head of state. Australia could keep the title ‘Governor-General’. It is instructive that in 1999, most wanted the new president to carry basically the same powers as the current governor-general.24 So if the powers and functions remain the same, why adopt the distracting and misleading title of ‘President’?
‘President’ conjures an image of a US-style executive presidency, which most do not want for Australia. It unhelpfully creates expectations of direct election, a common assumption in 1999.25 Keeping ‘Governor-General’ could be a way of affirming our British institutional inheritance rather than repudiating it, and maintaining constitutional continuity. It may also help to alleviate confusion about the appropriateness of direct election.
To achieve constitutional reform, we cannot just preach to the converted. We must unite rather than divide. We must be prepared to meet in the middle.
Australia can undertake the modest constitutional reform necessary to finalise and formalise Australia’s independence. I think Australians would approve this reform if its practical necessity were properly explained: it is inefficient and inappropriate to ask the British Queen to tick off our domestic affairs. This needs to be fixed.
And Australians could rally around an inclusive Declaration of Australia, celebrating the equal importance of the Indigenous, the British and the multicultural in our national story. In affirming these three stories we may finally transcend the culture wars that have for too long prevented us from achieving our full potential. Along the way we may learn to be better Australians.