This fear is understandable. Veterans policy remains one of the few areas immunised against hyperpartisanship. Some issues must be above politics, and the support we as a nation owe to our service men and women is rightly one of them.

But automatic bipartisanship can be bad for transparency and corrosive for democracy. What happens when there is a credible risk of systemic policy failures spanning decades and governments? In this scenario, unthinking bipartisanship can start to look a lot like a protection racket, putting political self-interest ahead of the public interest.

As a third-generation veteran, I was immensely proud this month that Labor backed calls by 268,000 Australians for a royal commission into the veteran suicide crisis. Labor responded to the inspiring, and desperate, calls by parents, siblings and mates of veterans who had committed suicide.

It's not political games that motivated Labor's support for a royal commission. It's empathy. It's not partisan to expect that mothers shouldn't have to bury their serving sons and daughters in peacetime. It's not partisan to demand that our government do everything within its power to reverse this crisis.

Like too many, I've lost a close veteran mate to suicide. Enough is enough.

But some who agree up to this point ask the legitimate question: why a royal commission in particular? Why should we spend money on this rather than directly funding services?

This pragmatic view has some traction in the defence community. Defence is biased towards action and outcomes, breeding a culture of gritting your teeth through hardship. This is exactly what we need our armed forces to do in wartime. But this culture reaches its limits when the enemy is within and invisible, occupying not a gun pit but the heart and mind.

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Reflecting this pragmatism, The Canberra Times asked the Prime Minister to "demonstrate there will be tangible benefits for veterans" from a royal commission before it is called.

It's unclear why exactly, but critics of a royal commission have set up many such impossible tests. I don't recall previous royal commissions facing the same "show us the outcome first" argument. I can only wish we already had the answers to halting the appalling rate of veteran suicide.

What is currently in place is clearly not working, but the unnamed defence sources paraphrased by The Canberra Times seem to ask for an absurdly high evidentiary burden from late veterans' families: prove to us a royal commission can prevent suicides and we'll support it. In a catch-22, proponents are asked to produce the results of a process that hasn't begun. It's impossible.

DVA and Defence are not the bad guys. DVA's veteran-centric reforms are important, long-term changes. But we can walk and chew gum at the same time. And since nothing else has slowed the veteran suicide rate, we need to consider all available options.

A royal commission is the heavy artillery of inquiries. It is the most powerful tool we have to ask the hard questions and find answers. By sitting outside Defence and DVA, it can bust bureaucratic silos and avoid cultural and institutional pressures. It can be free and frank.

This paper's editorial echoed fears that a royal commission could do more harm than good. A common variant of this claim is that, by investigating the suicide crisis, a royal commission might inspire more suicides. But in fact, medical research has found that talking about it may actually help to defuse suicidal ideations.

Bipartisanship does not mean staying silent on veteran suicides. It's about joining forces to do everything we possibly can to stop them.