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Support for a republic in Australia has dropped to 46 per cent.Credit:Getty Images

That’s true even with the absurdity of Australia having a foreign head of state,determined by hereditary rules. Vanishingly few Australians probably believe the official lore that our monarch is appointed by God,and rules by divine right. Only slightly more would consciously affirm that our head of state is also the head of a Protestant Church. But far from energising republicans,these things should sound a warning. If the monarchy endures in spite of all these apparent absurdities,perhaps it’s offering something you’re not registering. Any republic debate therefore cannot be purely about what’s wrong with the monarchy. It has to deal with what commends it.

That involves taking people seriously when they explain why this period of mourning has moved them. And hereabouts,certain themes have rung particularly clearly:constancy,dignity,a sense of belonging to something greater than themselves,and tellingly,a realm of public life that exists outside of politics,around which people can gather.

It is true much of this affection attached to Elizabeth II herself,and her unusually long reign,but when we see people already transferring some of that warmth to Charles III,something more than the merely personal must be at play. My best summary is that the monarch becomes the personification of the nation itself. Every nation needs a “we”. Some symbol that stands in for the whole. For monarchists,the monarchy is the best available.

Its magic therefore derives from it being the opposite of our politics. Where democracy delivers frequent changes in leadership and a constant drum beat of antagonism and discord,monarchy delivers appointments for life and a distant silence on issues of widespread disagreement. Where democratic chaos means we never really know who the next prime minister – or,say,American president – might be,monarchy gives us a predictable line of succession.

The coffin of Queen Elizabeth II passes Buckingham Palace on Monday.Credit:Getty

In a time of hypersonic change,the monarchy is unchanging,draped in history,tradition,ritual,placing us in a bond with those past and those yet to come. In short,monarchy becomes a kind of foil to government. It works specifically because it is undemocratic. And it imposes relatively little on citizens. It’s powerful precisely because it has no real power.

The Queen was loved because she was so frequently silent,so often a blank canvas. Indeed,the most strident criticisms of the Queen,and the monarchy more broadly,come from those who see them as deeply,irredeemably political:as symbols of colonisation or unconscionable privilege. But that only underscores the point:your attitude towards the monarchy is probably directly correlated to how political you perceive it to be. King Charles’ challenge is that he was an outspoken prince,who must now find a place more akin to his mother’s,somewhere above the fray.

The republican objection is mainly that this monarchy is the wrong symbol of the “we”. That argument is sharpest coming from Indigenous Australians for whom the Crown isn’t merely foreign,but dispossessing. These are powerful objections,and in the Indigenous case,I think they’re elemental. But with the republic debate,critique is not enough. If you’re going to ask Australians to forgo the monarchy,you’re going to have to replace it with something more fitting,but still magical.

As someone with republican sympathies,I’m forced to confess that so far,we haven’t. It’s fine to say we want an Australian president as our head of state,but a figure that changes regularly with no vaguely predictable line of succession doesn’t offer the sense of constancy,history or ritual we’d be replacing. If we’re going to do this,we’re going to have to draw on our own resources of history,tradition,ceremony,even spirituality. And hereabouts,I had an idea.

What if,instead of a monarch or a president,we had an Australian Elder? That is,a recognised Indigenous elder,appointed as our head of state for life. This figure already comes anchored in a long history,and a culture replete with ceremony. But one of the great things about some Indigenous ceremonies – like,say,welcomes to country – is that they are often endearingly informal.

This extraordinary mix of ceremony and informality,history and improvisation,captures something unique and charming about the Australian character – Indigenous and not. We could even call our Elder “Uncle” or “Aunty”. And when our Aunty dies,deep rituals of mourning would already exist,ready for us to embrace as a nation.

Obviously,this office is racially closed. But so is the monarchy,which is always going to be white,and doesn’t even extend to white Catholics. It is also undemocratic,which replicates precisely one of the monarchy’s virtues.

Sure,I can see problems. How would the Elder be chosen from among the hundreds of First Nations? Does it rotate in a predetermined way? Our head of state has to be an apolitical figure,confining itself to speaking on areas of near total agreement. Would the Elder face too much pressure to become an activist? Would this all fall apart in 100 years when the Elder has to dismiss a government?

It’s rough,and not fully thought through,I admit. But it captures something of the richness and magic of monarchy,while being indisputably ours. And beneath everything that’s wrong with it,there might just be the material for a good idea better minds than mine can fashion. Feel free to be one of them.

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