That the recent visit of King Charles to Australia – his first as the country’s sovereign – attracted protests will have come as a surprise to very few people.

The right-wing press in the UK anticipated some kind of snub to Charles from republican, “woke leftist” Australians. The palace had prepared the ground for the visit in a letter to the non-partisan independence group the Australian Republican Movement which repeated its longstanding position that, as with any of the other Commonwealth realms, the question of whether the country became a republic was “a matter for the Australian public to decide”.

But the message from the most prominent protester was, perhaps, less expected. At the end of a speech by the king at Parliament House in Canberra on October 21, he was heckled by Lidia Thorpe, an independent senator of Aboriginal (Djab Wurrung, Gunnai and Gunditjmara) origin.

She told him: “You committed genocide against our people. Give us our land back. Give us what you stole from us – our bones, our skulls, our babies, our people.”

Earlier in the day, Thorpe had issued a statement outlining her position. In it, she claimed:

As First Peoples, we never ceded our Sovereignty over this land. The crown invaded this country, has not sought treaty with First Peoples, and committed a genocide of our people. King Charles is not the legitimate sovereign of these lands. Any move towards a republic must not continue this injustice. Treaty must play a central role in establishing an independent nation. A republic without a treaty must not happen.

Historic treaties

The recognition of the rights of Aboriginal peoples through a formal treaty has been a demand of Australian indigenous rights campaigners for decades. Indeed, Australia is unusual among British settler colonies in the failure of the crown to forge treaties with Indigenous peoples in the process of imperial occupation. In New Zealand and Canada these treaties continue to be invoked as an historical underpinning of indigenous rights.

The 1840 Treaty of Waitangi between Māori leaders and the crown as well as the rights and principles that followed from it are certainly politically contentious in New Zealand. Yet the Treaty is still widely regarded as the country’s founding document and a key symbolic basis for inclusion and reconciliation.

In Canada, the treaties signed by the crown with First Nations peoples are explicitly referenced in the country’s 1982 constitution and are cited by the Canadian government as “a framework for living together and sharing the land Indigenous peoples traditionally occupied.”

It should not come as much of a surprise that the issue of the the absence of similar treaties in Australia has been raised during the king’s visit. The rather dull itineraries of royal visits provide activists with a perfect opportunity to have their voices heard by journalists desperate for something interesting to write about. There is a history of Aboriginal protesters using them in this way.

In 1972, the Larrakia people, the traditional owners of the Darwin region in the Northern Territory, used a visit by Princess Margaret to draw attention to a petition asking Queen Elizabeth II to assist them in their demand for land rights and political representation.

The palace and the governments of the Realms are keenly aware of these sensitivities and plan royal tours accordingly. During his visit to Canada in 2022, for example, while he was still Prince of Wales, Charles made a point of meeting the survivors of the country’s notorious residential schools where thousands of indigenous children suffered abuse.

Ironically, indigenous treaties with the crown have complicated the republican issue, forcing campaigners for a republic in both New Zealand and Canada to offer assurances that the rights and obligations in those treaties would not be lost if the monarchy was to be abolished.

The question of reparations

Charles has followed his Australia visit by flying to Samoa for the summit of the Commonwealth Heads of Government. Again, the UK press sensed trouble ahead, predicting that as head of the Commonwealth Charles might be caught up in a row between the British government and Caribbean nations over the call for reparations for slavery.

The UK is not the only government in the Commonwealth having to wrestle with colonial legacy issues. But there is no avoiding them.

Britain has a monarchy steeped in imperial history, with a king who is quite separately sovereign of 14 other realms. Its government continues to profess a belief in the value of the Commonwealth, when its members have little else in common except that most of them were colonised by Britain.

A recent report by the UK thinktank Policy Exchange, which imagined the Commonwealth playing a greater role in British diplomatic, defence and trade policy, seemed blithely unaware of the tensions within the organisation and the barriers to collective action.

In a similar vein, UK prime minister Keir Starmer has claimed that he wants to “look forward” and focus on issues such as climate change and boosting prosperity rather than reparations.

But the Commonwealth is simply not a logical framework for the discussion of these matters. On the other hand, it is uniquely qualified to debate the impact of colonialism and the question of reparatory justice. And even if Britain doesn’t want to have that conversation, other Commonwealth countries certainly do.