It’s Referendum day here in Australia.

I was offered the opportunity to work on the poll for the Australian Electoral Commission, and I opted out because you had to give an undertaking that you would not do anything to promote one case or the other, and that included even minor social media slactivism. I feel pretty strongly about the issue, so I didn’t think it was an undertaking I could give. There has been so much vitriol about the topic, however, that in reality, I’ve posted very little. It’s been a protective mechanism, and I recognise that our Indigenous brothers and sisters have probably found it infinitely harder to protect themselves from the noise.

Here’s the question: To alter the Constitution to recognise the First Peoples of Australia by establishing an Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Voice. Do you approve this proposed alteration?

That’s it. Nothing more.

You would think this would not be overly contentious. Australia is home to the oldest continuous culture, and I think we’re one of the last former-British colonies to acknowledge the First Peoples in our constitution. As for establishing a “Voice,” it’s to be elected Indigenous representatives who form an advisory body with whom the government has to consult on policy that impacts them.

This is not a radical idea, either; we’ve had a few bodies like this. All have them were legislated and were subsequently abolished by a change of government. So the idea here is that the *concept* is enshrined in the Constitution; the detail follows in legislation. So the form could legislatively be changed, but we can’t be left without an advisory body for years (or worse, decades, as has happened in my living memory); there has to be something. Folks who get to have a discussion, alongside the public service, when a Minister is making a decision that impacts on them specifically.

Now, if you happen to be an Indigenous Australian, people of a different culture have been making these decisions on your behalf for most of your lifetime. I think our last three Indigenous Affairs ministers have actually been Indigenous, which is great. But Australia became a federated nation in 1901, so the last three is what we might call a good start. And in the meantime, the “gaps” we agreed to close–around education, mortality, childhood illness, poverty–are not closing or even narrowing. Some key indicators have even gone in the wrong direction. To me, there are two key ideas here: First, what we’ve been doing hasn’t really been working, so it’s probably a good time to try something else. Second, it’s just good manners to include people in the conversation if they are the ones who have to live with the consequences. The Voice will have about as much power as the average P & C – they can share their input, they will be consulted, but ultimately, the existing power structures of the day will still make the decisions. Our democratically elected power structures of the day.

So, why am I getting so agitated about this? As a white woman with significant privilege, the impact on me is non-existent. Literally. There are folks out there clutching their pearls and predicting reparations and lost back yards, but the actual question is not about reparations or land rights–issues that could be discussed by a Voice to Parliament, sure, but the parliament would ultimately make the decisions, and I reckon they’ll be as unlikely as they ever were to commit political suicide by entertaining such radically scary ideas.

The voice I hear in my head as this debate goes on, and the face I see, is that of Uncle Sam Watson. Uncle Sam was an activist, a legal advocate, a writer, and, in my opinion, an all-round good human. Sam wrote The Kadaitcha Sung, a book that was the focus of half of my PhD project. It’s a disturbing, violent book, but its author most definitely was not. I interviewed him many years ago, when my kids were small. He bent down and had a long chat with them before Tony took them away and distracted them so Sam and I could chat. I got the distinct impression that he would have preferred to play with the kids than do an interview with a PhD student! I don’t recall the conversation, and I doubt they do either, but he definitely made an impression. For years afterwards, I’d be at the computer or in the kitchen when the 7 o’clock news was on, and one child or the other would hear that distinctive voice and yell, “Mum, come quick! Uncle Sam’s on!”

When I completed my PhD, I sent Uncle Sam a copy. I didn’t really expect him to read it; that’s the nature of academic texts, you pretty much assume that no one will. But in due course there arrived at our home a personal note, from Sam, congratulating me on the completion of the project and saying how honoured he was that I had shared my thoughts about his “humble little book.”

Uncle Sam was part of the original Tent Embassy movement which began in 1972. He did not see the kind of meaningful change he hoped for in his lifetime. He was (marginally) younger than my parents; one of his children was born the same year as me. And yet, my parents are still in robust good health, and Uncle Sam passed into the Dreaming several years ago. He was 67. The average for an Australian male is 83.

That’s the kind of gap we’re trying to close.

This morning, I took my 85-year-old Scottish father-in-law to vote. He asked about the question, and we explained that “Yes” meant you were agreeing that a group of Aboriginal people should get to have a discussion about issues affecting them, before the parliament voted on them.

He paused and thought for a minute.

“Well, I reckon that sounds fair enough,” he said.

And that, at its core, is what it’s about. The Voice is not a panacea and it likely won’t fix everything. It may not even move the needle fast enough for many of us. But on the balance of probabilities, it would probably be fairer than what we’ve been doing.

So I’m sitting here nervously hoping that the polls are spectacularly wrong. I have to believe good manners and human decency has a chance of winning out.