What Does Indigenous Constitutional Recognition Actually Mean?

Constitutional Recognition stems from the crazy idea that even before Captain Cook's disastrous contiki tour deposited him in Botany Bay, people were already living on the Australian continent.

It doesn't sound like a particularly contentious notion, given nobody really debates this fact. And yet in a society whose laws and system of government are based pretty much exclusively on that of the invading force, there is very little recognition of the land's original inhabitants. With infant mortality rates in Victoria nearly twice as high among Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders, Indigenous youth suicide making up an astonishing 80 percent of total Australian suicides in 2011, and Indigenous adults 13 times more likely to be imprisoned than non-Indigenous adults, the ripple waves from the First Fleet's landing are still clearly being felt today.

Constitutional Recognition, in practice, simply means holding a public vote to make some changes to the Australian Constitution. These changes will remove the surprisingly antiquated and discriminatory Section 25, which allows states to ban people from voting based on race, and introduce some new sections highlighting the significance and autonomy of Indigenous and Torres Strait Islanders as Australia's first people. Examples include the addition of a new section 127A, which will recognise that English wasn't the country's first language.

No it's not groundbreaking stuff, and isn't going to magically fix everything, of course, but it will at least acknowledge the idea that there were people and a culture here for thousands of years. Acknowledgement and recognition may be symbolic, but it's an important symbol.

Why is it an important symbol?

Because Tony Abbott, former Prime Minister and future Not Prime Minister, still says stuff like this:

"I guess our country owes its existence to a form of foreign investment by the British government in the then-unsettled, or scarcely settled, Great South Land."

And this:

"(regarding remote Aboriginal communities) What we can't do is endlessly subsidise lifestyle choices."

And this:

"We all know back in the 60s, Aboriginal people didn't have much money, they didn't always receive the respect they deserve, but they were in the real economy and they did have pride."

What's the process to make this happen?

The target date for the report was late June, but government sources told the ABC that it's unlikely they'll make that deadline. Given the likelihood of a double dissolution election happening before then, it's an issue that's probably not going to be ready by the time we all reluctantly head to the polls to reward one group of wankers for being slightly less perceptively awful than another set of wankers. Democracy.

But this would mean a special referendum would have to be held, and some are pushing for 27 May 2017. The significance of that date? It would mark the 50th anniversary of the 1967 referendum that successfully removed some remarkably racist constitutional language against Aboriginal people.

Not everyone is keen for this date. Jackie Huggins, National Congress of First Peoples co-chair, has pointed out that the historical impact of that date could be diminished by doubling up with another referendum, "especially if we get a no vote. I mean, what is that going to do to that date? It might tarnish it forever."

Is there likely to be a no vote?

Very unlikely. A recent poll had voter support for the amendment at 80 percent. That's a level of positive response that not even "Okay, who wants ice cream?" enjoys.

Is all of this just tokenism?

This depends on who you ask. Nayuka Gorrie recently made clear for VICE that she certainly thinks it is, and it's difficult to not see her point. As she wrote:

Right now, I just want to yell, "Fuck your recognition." I know you think "it's the right thing to do" but I don't want it and we don't need it. I want a treaty. A treaty forces you to see me as an equal with a separate identity, history, and culture that has existed for tens of thousands of years. Recognition forces me to ask to be seen by you in a colonial system that I don't want to legitimise. Fuck that.

Gorrie makes it clear she's only speaking for herself, but she's not alone.

In February, the Victorian Government held a meeting at Federation Square to consult with Aboriginal people from around the state on this issue. Early on in the meeting, a motion was raised—"We as Sovereign People reject Constitutional Recognition"—and passed. Natalie Hutchins, Victoria's Minister for Aboriginal Affairs, later said that she has met with many communities distrustful of constitutional recognition.

Kevin Rudd's historic 2007 apology to the Stolen Generation finally acknowledged at least one part of our abhorrent past policies. But given the lack of significant improvement in these communities—it's less than a fortnight after a ten-year-old Western Australian indigenous girl apparently committed suicide—it also feels, in retrospect, a little toothless. No wonder so many in these communities are suspicious of more lip service.

How will all of this effect Andrew Bolt?

Good question. This is a question all governments must consider before moving forward with any policy.

"I am an indigenous Australian," wrote Bolt in January 2014, with what sources tell us was no sense of self-awareness whatsoever. "I was born here, I live here and I call no other country home. I am therefore indigenous to this land and have as much right to it as anyone."

Bolt argued that to single out any group of people for special recognition would itself be discriminatory, and the people fighting for constitutional recognition are the real racists.

You can test this theory for yourself. If you like the look of Bolt's house, you can move in, make yourself at home, and help yourself to all his stuff. Sure, you'd probably wind up in court, but obviously Bolt would insist that you both be defendants, because frankly it would be unfair to single one of you out.

Follow Lee on Twitter.