Albo has tried desperately to tone down and shed his image of an unwashed, far left socialist and inner city rabble rouser with bad teeth, to something more reasonable and appealing to suburban and small town mum and dads and rural folk, with his snivelling, lip quivering, weepy and misty eyed blubbering about a mere “𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞” to the constitution and appeal to common decency and the Australian fair go, as he tries to drop the sledge hammer of guilt and shame.
For total context and understanding, instead of cutting and pasting an extract, I’ve copied the entire piece by Janet Albrechtsen and bolded what I consider to be the stand out passages.
As you will read below this is the dark underbelly of the voice.
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“….Australians will discover that if they vote Yes, the constitutionally entrenched Indigenous voice is not the conclusion of the intended makeover of our national governance arrangements. It is but the first step.
𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐣𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬’ 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐈𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞.
𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞-𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐲.
That is because the voice does not in itself give ATSI people the two things activists really want: namely, sovereignty and a form of self-government, and reparations. Only a treaty can do that. That’s why voters should realise that a Yes vote will likely guarantee many more years of agitation and division until, and perhaps even after, a treaty is achieved.
Anthony Albanese can be expected to do his usual Chicken Little routine, accusing those who are curious about what comes next as fearmongerers.
The shame is that 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐛𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐨, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐚𝐲.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭. 𝐈𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 “𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐕𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧” 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
As the statement says, “Makarrata is the culmination of our agenda … we seek a Makarrata Commission to supervise a process of agreement-making between government and First Nations and truth-telling about our history”.
Given Albanese said in his election victory speech “on behalf of the Australian Labor Party, I commit to the Uluru Statement from the Heart in full”, Australians need to understand clearly what this treaty – the end point of the Uluru statement – means.
The definitive description of what the treaty means can be found in the 2020 edition of the book Treaty by George Williams and Harry Hobbs. Williams is a prominent legal academic from the University of NSW and was a member of the constitutional expert group that advised the government on the drafting of the proposed constitutional amendment. Hobbs is also a Sydney legal academic.
Sovereignty, the first aim of a treaty, raises fundamental questions about how the country will be governed in the future. As the Uluru statement shows, those pushing for treaty, including Williams, Hobbs and other members of the academic legal movement, do not accept the traditional view that we have in Australia a single sovereign entity in whom exclusive legal and political power is vested.
The High Court in Coe v Commonwealth in 1993 made clear that the Mabo decision does not support “the notion that sovereignty adverse to the Crown resides in the Aboriginal people of Australia. The decision is equally at odds with the notion that there resides in the Aboriginal people a limited kind of sovereignty.”
Williams’ and Hobbs’ response to this is to question Australia’s very legitimacy, saying the “reality” requires us to recognise that “the Australian nation-state has a legitimacy problem that remains unresolved”.
With that as their starting premise, it is not surprising that Williams and Hobbs call for a treaty which meets three conditions: “First, it must recognise Indigenous peoples as a polity, distinct from other citizens of the state on the basis of their status as prior self-governing communities. Second, the agreement must be reached by a fair negotiating process conducted in good faith and in a manner respectful of each participant’s standing as a polity. Third, the agreement must settle each party’s claims … (t)his must include the state recognising or establishing some form of decision making and control for the Indigenous people that amounts to a form of self-government.”
The first element requires us to accept that Australia is not one indivisible nation. It has two polities. The first and third elements call for some form of self-government by Aboriginal people.
While Williams and Hobbs are not prescriptive about what form that takes, they quote the UN Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples which says Indigenous peoples have the “right to autonomy or self-government” in relation to their “internal and local affairs”.
As an example of what this might mean, Williams and Hobbs quote Canada’s treaty with the Nisga’a people which recognises the Nisga’a right “to exercise self-government over a range of local and internal affairs, including lands, language, culture, education, health, child protection, traditional healing practices, fisheries, wildlife, forestry, environmental protection and policing.”
There is a proviso, that says in the case of an inconsistency, federal or provincial laws prevail. But even with that, a similar treaty in this country would carve out for one group, based on race, a separate set of laws and policies that other groups do not have open to them. In other words, a treaty would divide Australia, not unify it.
What about reparations? In the foreword to Treaty, Mick Dodson says there must be a recognition “that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders have been injured and harmed through the colonisation process, and just recompense is owed”. Williams and Hobbs have a stab at estimating the size of possible financial settlements by referring first to the precedent of the settlement between Western Australia and the Noongar people in 2016 that gave the Noongar a package valued at $1.3bn consisting of “a sizeable land base, non-exclusive rights to resources over an extended area, a large and sustained financial contribution from the state government, and enhanced cultural heritage protection”.
More expensively, they point to the Timber Creek decision in 2019 in which “the Ngaliwurru and Nungali peoples were awarded about $2.53m for 53 acts carried out on 1.27sq km of native title land. As there are about 2.8 million sq km of native title holdings across the country, the potential total amount of liabilities will likely be in the billions of dollars.”
𝐈𝐟 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐲, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩? 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐲.
𝐘𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐨, 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐢𝐧 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 “𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞” 𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.
𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐨’𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. “𝐖𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐞’𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞,” 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫.
“𝐖𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐬 𝐧𝐨; 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞. 𝐖𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.”
Even if the government has no legal duty to consult the voice in the absence of a request to do so, the voice can easily create a duty to consult by the simple device of asking to make representations.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 “𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐈𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬”. 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲.
𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐰. 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐰 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝐈𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧, 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬, 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐭.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 – 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 “𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭” – 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐲.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐀 𝐘𝐞𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.