By rights, the referendum to grant the nation’s First Peoples meaningful recognition should have been embraced by the Australian people.

Instead, they said yeah, nah.

And now we are stuck in a political purgatory.

The voice proposal had been decades, some might say more than a century, in the making. It was born in the ashes of the decision by the former prime minister John Howard, backed by the Mark Latham-led ALP, to abolish the flawed but retrievable Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission.

Without Atsic’s input, the Northern Territory intervention soon followed, then the former prime minister Tony Abbott’s demolition of Indigenous programs.

It is little wonder that older First Nations people, who had lived with the consequences of bad policy all their lives, wanted a way of being assured that their families would not always be subject to political whim in a nation where race-baiting is a go-to political tool. They and their advisers thought – wrongly, as it turned out – that the Australian people would be more empathetic than their political leaders.

In the land of yeah, nah, change is hard won.

Many welcomed the boldness of victorious prime minister Anthony Albanese’s promise to implement the Uluru statement from the heart “in full”.

We then watched with increasing concern as he failed to build more robust foundations for the undoubtedly difficult task of constitutional change. Rather than explaining how the voice would not only respond to an entreaty, but benefit all of us – how it would correct historical wrongs and provide a pathway forward, by building bipartisan support, or introducing legislation that would put muscle on the bones of an idea – the first memorable event was a photo op with the towering American basketballer Shaquille O’Neal. Not Patty Mills or Ash Barty, not Adam Goodes or Johnathan Thurston, not Deborah Mailman, Ernie Dingo or Evonne Goolagong Cawley – stars Australians know and admire. Stars for whom it was personal.

If you are going to put a match to your political capital, you need to make sure, as Tim Walz says, that the fire is so big that something better emerges, like a phoenix from the ashes.

Instead, as the embers of the uncontrolled burn still spark, we are stuck in retreat. Nothing substantial has happened for First Nations people, the republic has been jettisoned, and the consequences of inequality at home and geopolitical uncertainty escalate.

It’s not helped by an opposition leader who channels his inner toddler to say nah to everything despite parental reasoning. To give him the right of veto by demanding bipartisan support for any initiative is a recipe for sinking deeper into the mud.

These are complex problems. Resolving them demands hard work and analytical, rhetorical and political skill. And imagination, informed by a knowledge of history.

Those in Canberra work hard, are analytical and politically tactical, but miss on the other markers. The prime minister was mistaken when he said there was nothing to be gained by raking over the ashes of the referendum. There are lessons to be learned from its failure and from the past on how to turn the land of yeah, nah into a nation that embraces meaningful progress.

When in 1889 the New South Wales governor Lord Carrington challenged premier Henry Parkes to create a single nation from the six antipodean colonies, Parkes thought it could be done within a year. It took 11, and two referenda in each colony before yeah, nah became nah, yeah. By then Parkes was dead.

We tend to downplay federation and ignore its lessons. But earnest debate across the continent proceeded for a decade. It showed how persistence, argument and a willingness to compromise could produce results.

For more than a decade after 1901, even with the race-based policies we now reject, Australia was otherwise a global poster child for democratic innovation. Politicians, thinkers and journalists took the long sea journey and then travelled extensively to see what lessons could be learned and applied elsewhere. Universal franchise, living wages, pensions for men and women, compulsory free secular education.

Recapturing that sense of possibility is what we now need.

Prof George Williams’ proposal for a standing constitutional commission, outlined in his book People Power co-written with David Hume, is a good place to start.

In the spirit of the 21st century this can no longer be left to constitutional lawyers and former politicians but must embrace the nascent models of democratic reform – deliberative democracy, citizen juries, community and internet-enabled consultation – as well as regular conventions and parliamentary feedback.

Make it exciting, inclusive and transformative, informed by but not captive to political parties. A standing commission that reaches wide and builds its own authority.

Political leaders and academics like to point to the Australian Electoral Commission as a model for best practice democracy, and it does an admirable job, although many Australians are still remarkably ignorant about the political system. To transform Australia there is a need for more energy, more engagement and education, less room for ignorance and prejudice.

An energetic constitutional commission could do this – appealing like the Uluru statement directly to the Australian people. It is unconscionable to think Australia should be constrained indefinitely by a 19th century document. A nation without meaningful recognition of the First Peoples and subservient to the Crown; a place where embracing a bill of rights and equal political opportunities for dual citizens, are off the table.

A nah, yeah ethos ready to embrace change would make this a much more exciting, prosperous, independent, and inclusive nation, a better fit for the troubled 21st century. Like federation, it will need leaders and people willing to dream.