All talk, much inaction

Australia Fair. This is Canberra, the new capital of a young nation, yet thirled to the simple nonsense of an ancient system of hereditary monarchy, still bowing the knee to an old idea.

Australia has been independent since 1901 but like other Commonwealth nations it continues to recognise the British monarch as sovereign head of state. Yesterday's opening of a constitutional convention to debate whether the country should become a republic should, then, be a shoo in. Even the staunchly monarchist Prime Minister has conceded that the symbolism of Australia sharing its legal head of state with a number of other Commonwealth nations is no longer appropriate. Not if but when and how to cut the 210-year tie would, you might think, be the logical outcome.

With polls showing that 67% of those questioned supported a republic, and republican sympathisers holding the majority among the elected delegates to the convention, the outcome might seem as sure as the plot of Neighbours. Cling to a decrepit, anachronistic system of subjection or snip the final tie that binds a new secure and growing nation to an old mother country: where's the contest, Bruce? To which the answer might be that, like the devil, it is in the detail.

Many politicians are seriously worried that squabbles within the republican ranks, all intent on pursuing so many incidental issues, will mean failure to agree a republic constitution.

Even if they do manage to agree on the fine print and come up with a workable republican model, it will have to be put to a referendum which produces an overall majority in most states. Only the government of the day will be able to decide the date of transition.

Few Australians, even those of immigrant descent, profess affection for the monarchy. Not now. Not since that day. In the way that people remember where they were when Kennedy died or they heard the news of Diana's death, so Australians recall the day 22 years ago when the Queen's representative, the Governor General of Australia, sacked the Prime Minister.

Sir John Kerr used his reserve

powers to break a deadlock between Gough Whitlam's Labour government and the Senate over the budget.

Gough Whitlam had gone to Government House to demand an election and was instead curtly dismissed. The Governor General's action, proclaimed from the steps of Parliament House by his private secretary, left Australia stunned. Its legacy was to inspire republican fervour in many who, until then, had cared little about constitutional niceties.

Although it later became known that the Queen had not stepped in to sack Mr Whitlam and had not been consulted ahead of the coup, still it wounded her name.

There were, though, still many of British descent who clung to their old roots. Now, all commentators seem to agree, Britain and the British monarchy are of little more than nostalgic interest. Politically, commercially, in diplomatic and in defence terms, Britain is of much less significance to Australia than the US, the Pacific Rim countries, China, and Japan. The country has filled with immigrants from other countries than Britain, with no generational ties to its monarchy. The legacies of colonialism are kept alive only in the everlasting flames of war memorials to the dead of wars fought in the name of old loyalties.

But it may be that the singing of the national anthem yesterday will prove

to be the last moment of consensus at the convention.

It is not that the monarchists will win on argument. They argue for stasis with the only weapon they have: knowing that the republican factions are deeply split on how a new head of state system should evolve.

Gough Whitlam, now in his eighties, has no doubt the republic will come and favours the ''minimalist'' model, which would simply give the Governor General a new name, appointing him as president and head of state.

But the public mood seems to favour a directly elected president. This, it is claimed, would stop conniving politicians from stitching up the presidency.

At least 78 of the 152 delegates to the convention are pro-republican. Some 39 are monarchists while 35 are un-declared. But proposals for a republic range from a powerful US-style

public elected executive presidency down to the minimalist option where parliament would appoint the ceremonial head of state.

Prime Minister John Howard has promised a national referendum if the convention decides a uniform plan. If delegates do not come up with a preferred plan, the country would be asked after the next election to vote on a series of options.

Howard's address to the opening of the convention made play of the constitution's success in binding Australia's colonies into a nation almost 100 years ago: ''I oppose Australia becoming a republic because I do not believe that the alternatives so far canvassed will deliver a better system of government than the one we have,'' he said.

Labor opposition leader Kim Beazley said the architects of Australia's constitution had set a republican

agenda which should now be comp-leted. Despite being written when Australia saw itself as part of the British empire, the constitution contained a republican direction: ''The opposition's view is that we should now complete the founders' agenda. Our nation is a republic in all but name.''

Fear that the internecine squabbles between rival republican factions might lead to the convention turning into a

big talk-fest has been voiced by

many involved in the convention, including its deputy chairman and

president of the pro-republican Labor Party, Barry Jones.

''My concern is that by putting 57 things on the agenda, you may finish up by not achieving any of them.'' If the convention stuck to a very narrow agenda it might well deal with its main aim, but he added:

''On the other hand, if you lean too far in the other direction and say let's have 10 days of glorious oratory, there's a grave danger we might finish the fortnight merely having had a marvellous time talking.''

Some sceptics believe Prime Minister Howard proposed the convention hoping exactly that would happen.