Tanya Plibersek (Sydney, Australian Labor Party, Shadow Minister for Education and Training) Share this | Hansard source

I rise today in memory of Susan Ryan. Susan was a senator, a feminist, a mentor, a hero and a friend. She lived a great Australian life, of which we are all beneficiaries. I know I certainly am. She was born in Camperdown but spent her childhood in Maroubra, among the surf and the sun and the Catholic Church. She was educated by the Brigidine nuns, and I know a lot of girls that were educated by the Brigidine nuns—good feminists, all of them. They taught the girls to be confident and unconventional, proving their service through action. According to Susan, there was a clear link between her time at the convent school and her feminism. She said:

If convent girls did what the nuns told them—examined their consciences, tried to find the truth, stood up for themselves, strove for altruistic ... motives—it is no wonder they took to the second wave of feminism like ducks to water.

Susan's absolute passion for justice was deeply influenced by that time with the Brigidine sisters. You could see it, even as she was what my godmother would have called 'a lapsed Catholic'. She was culturally Catholic throughout her life. She was someone who believed passionately in the fundamental truths of not just Catholicism but any religion—what we owe to each other; the service that we owe to each other.

At a time when only five per cent of young women went to university, she won a scholarship to the Sydney Teachers' College. She had to actually pay back the scholarship when it was discovered that she was engaged. From there, she became a teacher, a mother, a publisher, an activist, an academic and, finally, a parliamentarian. Her decision to take the plunge into politics was motivated by her frustration at the limits of activism. Susan was a founding member here in the ACT of the Women's Electoral Lobby, but she concluded that, while lobbying was absolutely vital and critical, women would never achieve full equality without direct representation in the rooms where the decisions are being made. She said:

How much more efficient, I thought, how much more effective, if we were in there making the decisions, instead of knocking on the doors trying to attract support.

In 1975, there was not a single female member of the House of Representatives. It really seems impossible to think of that in our lifetime—my lifetime and yours, Mr Deputy Speaker Zimmerman. Susan ran for the Senate that year as a 33-year-old single mum, with her remarkable slogan, 'A woman's place is in the Senate'. It was revolutionary then and it is iconic today. Susan's politics were always clear. She could never tolerate discrimination of any sort—not against the old, not against the poor, not against women. This simple idea shaped everything that Susan Ryan did as a senator and everything that she did as Labor's first female cabinet minister. Her crowning achievement—what she called the most useful thing she did in her life—was the Sex Discrimination Act. She'd originally developed it in opposition as a private member's bill before having the opportunity to legislate it when Labor came to government. This is a very important point for parliamentarians who would hope to learn something from Susan Ryan's legacy: she didn't treat opposition as a time to relax and cruise. She was working every day, preparing for the opportunity and the honour of governing.

It seems completely uncontroversial now for us to say that it's unacceptable for an employer to advertise 'I want to a man to fill this job,' or, 'I want a woman to fill this job,' or, 'No-one who's pregnant need apply, and, if you get pregnant, you're able to be sacked,' but it was certainly not uncontroversial when Susan Ryan introduced the Sex Discrimination Act; it was incredibly controversial. I remember a little bit of it as a child. Looking back on the history books, Fred and Elaine Nile and organisations like Women who Want to be Women organised protests and accused Susan of, 'Making men eunuchs in their own kingdom.' One of the things that is extraordinary about this is that it wasn't just Susan's political opponents on the other side of the chamber who were critical of this; it was many of her own colleagues, fighting hard in marginal seats, saying: 'Susan, please. Why do we have to do this? It's so controversial. Can't we just let it drop?' I think it's such a tribute to Susan Ryan's clarity of vision, her commitment to change and her courage but also her courtesy and her light touch. She was prepared to fight this as hard as it took, but she did it with such good spirit and good grace.

We look back now deeply grateful for these changes. It took all of her willpower and all of her skill and experience to take this one idea—that gender based discrimination should not be allowed in our workplaces—and make it reality. We owe her a great debt for that, because it's never easy being the first. It may seem easy in hindsight, but it's not. People will criticise you, they will ridicule you and, when you win, they'll claim that they agreed with you from the very beginning. Susan is celebrated now, but she walked through fire to do what she did.

I want to finish this condolence with a reflection on Susan Ryan as a person and a mentor in the Labor Party. I could talk all day about her professional achievements. She did so much in the education, in the aged care and in the disability rights portfolios, but even if I spent the whole afternoon talking about all of those achievements, what you would miss is her vitality and her warmth. She was enormous fun. She loved literature, she loved music, she loved nature, she loved life, she was deeply proud of her Irish heritage and she was the absolute opposite of a snob.

I remember going to Labor Party conferences as a young activist, long before I was elected to parliament. Susan would fight all day on the conference floor, and then she would sit long into the evening with any of the young activists who wanted to talk to her—never too busy to give a word of advice or have a laugh, a drink or a chat. She was encouraging and she was supportive. Even after her extraordinary success in public life, she had time for people. We remember Susan for her amazing life, for all she did to make a career like mine possible and for all she did for Australian women. Her loss is immense for her family, for her partner Rory, for Justine and Benedict, for her grandchild, Amir, for our party and for this country.

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