Watching the governor-general’s swearing in, I found myself deeply unsettled as an advocate for an Australian head of state — and also, more than a little bit proud.
What did we see on Monday? After a smoking ceremony by Ngunnawal-Wiradjuri Elder Aunty Serena Williams, then a brief military salute from the Australian Federation Guard, “the commission from his majesty the king appointing Ms Samantha Joy Mostyn AC to be the governor-general of the Commonwealth of Australia”. Appointed, that is, with the words of Charles III: “By the grace of God” and “during our pleasure … according to such instructions as our governor-general for the time being may have received, or may in future receive from us, and according to such laws as are from time to time enforced.”
This is the premise of Australian democracy. What happened next, however, was quite moving.
Mostyn rose to address the Parliament, immediately reframing our colonial context as contemporary, ethical and feminist.
Because it was also a feminist event: just as Australia’s first female prime minister had been sworn in by Australia’s first female governor-general, Australia’s second female governor-general was smoked in by a female Elder, and greeted with a military salute conducted under female command.
Mostyn began by honouring First Peoples and First Nations. She quoted Guugu Yimithirr Elder Noel Pearson’s three epic stories that make Australia: 65 millennia of First Nations, British institutions, and our contemporary and future multiculturalism. The words care, unity, kindness and respect repeated throughout her speech, and she committed to being “an optimistic, modern and visible governor-general”, seeing the role “not simply to be an observer of an Australian life, but to be a participant.”
As she did so, Mostyn spoke with a welcome grace — and I use the word not only for its feminine connotations but also for the power of its elegance. Mostyn was gracious in recounting what she’s learnt from speaking with people across Australia as well as with former governors-general and current state governors. We expect an elegance of articulation from someone so accustomed to governance roles: offering strategic direction and giving advice as a board member, articulating the institution’s ethics and being their standard-bearer.
In doing so, Mostyn expressed the effortless, normalised feminism that no doubt Julia Gillard wishes she had been able to articulate in her early days to set the most healthy and respectful tone for her leadership – as opposed to, a decade later, regretting not speaking out against misogyny.
What, then, of royal instructions and the grace of God?
Democracies don’t tend to make the head of state role a religious one: that leader’s ultimate allegiance remains with the higher power of their personal belief. And yet Australia once appointed a clerical governor-general – with distressing consequences. Peter Hollingworth’s 2003 resignation from the role continues to set an instructive example of the risks when decision-making elevates that higher power above the public good. Australia’s king, however, is also defender of the faith and supreme governor of the Church of England: an ever-present reminder that that distinction does not exist at the apex of our democracy.
Nor do democracies tend to devote the head of state role to the citizen of a foreign power — but Australia is a constitutional monarchy, and won’t truly achieve democracy until that head of state is appointed democratically. Meanwhile, Australians holding dual citizenship are ineligible for election to the Commonwealth Parliament. On election, those who are eligible join the governor-general in expressing allegiance not to this nation, but to a foreign monarch whose actions always prioritise their United Kingdom and not Australia.
Which brings us back to Mostyn’s words. First Nations first. Kindness and care. A participant, not just an observer.
When, as governor-general, Dame Quentin Bryce dared imagine a future Australian republic back in 2013, it made global headlines. Bryce had expressed her hope for an Australia “where perhaps, my friends, one day, one young girl or boy may even grow up to be our nation’s first head of state.” It seemed then, as it seems today, an entirely natural aspiration.
Today’s governor-general serves in a politically fractious time, with politicised conflict often trumping dignity and fairness. Addressing this, Mostyn said: “I believe that these testing times call for an unstinting focus on kindness, on care, and on respect.” We need a head of state who meaningfully oversees the machinations of Australian democracy, working hard to hold politicians to a higher standard.
Being a vice-regal participant and not just an observer of Australian life does have, of course, one particularly damaging precedent: the dismissal of a prime minister and his government, under circumstances never fully revealed to Australians, causing a constitutional crisis. What Mostyn described, however, is the grace of listening with care defined as “that gentle thought and outstretched hand that Australians have always been ready to share when great challenges present themselves”. Care as “the better part of ourselves”.
We need a governor-general of genuine curiosity and care. Someone who asks pertinent questions of the people she meets, truly coming to understand them. We need a head of state who — in Mostyn’s words, echoing the prime minister’s invitation — serves the nation as “a modern, optimistic governor-general, capable of uniting and celebrating the very best of Australia”. Now that’s a vision to be proud of.
Let’s see Sam Mostyn AC set the bar so high that no one else could possibly reach it. Here’s to Mostyn not only being among our finest governors-general — but also, our last.
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