The history of the most contentious day in the life of the Australian Federation has been jolted forward in ways that are both jarring and inconclusive.

This is not the last word on events that scarred the country’s political landscape, nor should they be.

Indeed, the revelation that Governor General Sir John Kerr did not advise the Queen on the day he was sacking a popularly-elected prime minister begs as many questions as it answers.

The Queen may not have been privy to the actual timing of the dismissal, but she was certainly aware this was one of the options under Kerr’s consideration.

She had known for some time, as had Prince Charles, heir to the throne, that her representative had been calculating the consequences of sacking Whitlam before he got in first and asked the Queen to remove his own commission.

Kerr’s paranoia about this possibility is on display in these letters.

In other words, Australia’s titular head of state was aware of machinations that might lead to Prime Minister Gough Whitlam’s removal and yet she kept her counsel

She removed herself from the affairs of one her dominions except insofar as Martin Charteris, her private secretary, her representative, her confidant acted as a facilitator and sounding board for a constitutional ambush that eventually took place.

If this is not an argument for the need to revisit the issue of an Australian Republic in which Australia maintains ultimate control of its destiny, I don’t know what is.

The Queen may well be well-meaning, she may quite properly have wanted to remain well above Australia’s political turmoil, but the fact remains the popularly elected prime minister of the country was sacked by her representative without direct reference to her, and in her name.

If you wanted to make a corporate comparison it would be a bit like the representative of the chairman of a corporate board getting rid of the chief executive without telling the chairman.

Charteris’s observation in a communication with Kerr a week after the sacking says it all, really -- in the language of a palace courtier.

I believe that in NOT informing the Queen what you intended to do before doing it, you acted not only with perfect constitutional propriety but also with admirable consideration for Her Majesty’s position.

Well, of course, someone who had not deflected Kerr from exploring the sacking option would say that wouldn’t he!

It might be relevant to mention here that in the Westminster system the House of Lords, unlike the Senate in Australia, cannot force an election by denying supply. That prerogative was removed in 1911.

In a comparison of the UK and Australian Westminister systems what is good in the UK for the goose is not good in Australia for the gander, apparently.

Meanwhile, citizens of Australia were left to wonder in 1975 and subsequently what really happened in communications between Yarralumla and the Palace. Now we know – part of it, not all of it, part of it.

What Kerr’s letters do not reveal is the extent to which, if at all, he communicated with, or colluded with, Malcolm Fraser, or those close to him, in the last days before the Dismissal.

This remains an unanswered and important historical detail. Did Kerr relay his intentions to Fraser, either directly or indirectly? We may never know, but tactically, in the circumstances, it would have been an immense advantage to the Opposition to have been made aware of Kerr’s thinking.

In a game of brinkmanship that was played out at the time Fraser was having trouble maintaining discipline over his senate numbers. There was no certainty his senators – among whom were more than a few nervous nellies -- would hold to enable him to continue to block Supply and thus provide the pretext for Whitlam’s sacking.

Perhaps I should note here an enduring interest in the Dismissal as a consequence of having, quite literally, a front row seat. As the ABC reporter immediately to Whitlam’s left on the steps of Old Parliament on 11 November, 1975 I was caught in a downdraft of history – and an updraft of Whitlam outrage.

Later that day at a contentious press conference with the newly sworn in Prime Minister Fraser I asked this question: “Mr Fraser, how do you think history will judge this action of yours’’. That question survives in various reconstructions.

Forty-five years later that remains a question. Release of the Palace Letter -- courtesy of the efforts of Monash University professor Jenny Hocking, the wise judgement of the High Court and the valuable pro bono efforts of Bret Walker -- we are now closer to the Truth of the Matter, not there yet, but closer.