Julian Leeser (Berowra, Liberal Party, Shadow Minister for Indigenous Australians) Share this | Hansard source

Jim Molan loved Australia. He served and fought for Australia wholeheartedly. Jim began his service to Australia eight years before I was born. He entered Duntroon in 1968. He entered parliament half a century later, at an age when he could have been enjoying his military pension. Instead, he sought to serve again.

For many of us, when elected to the parliament, we seek to be worthy of making a contribution to it. Jim entered the Senate already worthy. Jim was, in every sense, a giant when he arrived. He'd been deployed in Papua New Guinea, Indonesia, Timor-Leste, Malaysia, Germany, the United States and, of course, Iraq. No Australian soldier served in a more senior role in the Iraq war. As the multinational chief of operations in Iraq, it's said that Jim had more personnel under his operational command than any Australian general since World War II. No parliamentarian in this building had the lived experience and deep working knowledge of complex military strategy that Jim Molan had.

When Jim entered the Senate, it had been almost 60 years since a person of two-star rank had served in this place. In the history of the Commonwealth, 11 major-generals and one air vice-marshal have entered the parliament, including eight who served in the Great War. One of those was the great Pompey Elliott, and I see some similarities between Jim Molan and Pompey Elliott. They both chose the Senate. They both had huge grassroots followings. They both saw politics as a way of arguing for their passions. For Pompey, it was the advancement and support of the men he'd served with. For Jim, it was Australia's defence and security preparedness. In many ways, Pompey looked back—understandable, given the trauma of the Great War—but Jim was always looking forward. Though a wholehearted supporter of our alliance with United States, Jim believed in Australian self-reliance and in an Australian Defence Force and security agencies that were properly funded, equipped and prepared.

Every part about Jim was brave. He was willing to put himself on the line. On one occasion in East Timor, Jim transported half a dozen nuns to the airport. They were pursued by a gunman on a motorbike. The gunman had a rifle. In a scene that almost sounds like a movie, Jim hit the brakes and the gunman slammed into the back of the vehicle. Jim got the nuns to the airport safely and then continued with further evacuations.

And Jim was brave here. On entering parliament—and, indeed, on his death—he faced disgraceful slurs. Keyboard warriors and populist politicians on the extreme green left chose the disgraceful path of blaming a soldier for the decisions and strategy of an elected government. The Australian soldier should never be dishonoured. Sadly, the toxicity of some meant that they tried but failed. But Jim Molan had their measure. As he said when he entered this place, if opponents don't speak against you, you're probably not standing up for enough.

To those who sought to skirmish his good name: you only brought dishonour on yourself. He wore the uniform that you didn't, and you have no right to attack his service.

Jim always spoke clearly. He wrote many columns. The headline was always the crux: 'Are we in this war to win it?' or 'Army needs to commit to victory', 'We can win the Afghan war but we are being led by donkeys', 'Disruption of Gulf fuel is a scenario we must prepare for', and 'End the pussyfooting in Afghan war'. 'Pussyfooting'—that's such a Molan word! He never took a step backwards.

My first association with Jim was through the Menzies Research Centre, where he was an active participant, both in uniform and in retirement, in the defence and security roundtables that the centre ran. He also agreed to contribute a really thoughtful and forward leaning chapter to the Menzies Research Centre book Don't Leave Us with the Bill: The Case Against an Australian Bill of Rights, where he demonstrated the possible unintended consequences of a bill of rights to Australians on active service. In his chapter, he prefaced an argument with some words that seemed to summarise the approach that Jim took to almost every defence and security issue. He wrote:

I fear that the unforeseen will occur, as it normally does …

Jim Molan always expected the unforeseen, and that required him to walk a lonely path. Despite his eminence, his status and his many other commitments, Jim made the effort to come to the launch of the book in almost every state capital. It demonstrated a strong commitment to the issue but, even more, his commitment to me as a friend.

I enjoyed working closely with Jim on the Parliamentary Joint Committee on Intelligence and Security, where he brought his years of thinking about strategy and national security. He also brought a particular knowledge about defence technology to the table, and I want to say I think Jim was right about the need for a national security strategy for this country. I hope, as a memorial to Jim, that Australians pursue this issue, because he was ahead of his time in reminding us of the importance of having a national security strategy.

In fairness, I have to admit that occasionally Jim and I disagreed over party matters. Jim was a change agent in our party. He believed in democracy, in grassroots power—so much so he took on the factions and sought change. Why, he was asked. It was because—and I quote—'As a soldier I have accompanied five separate nations down the road to democracy.' Democracy was his guiding light.

It says something of Jim that after being diagnosed with cancer he accelerated his efforts and completed Danger On Our Doorstep. Quoting Sun Tzu, he wrote:

Strategy without tactics is the slowest route to victory. Tactics without strategy is the noise before defeat.

Our country is better and, indeed, safer because of the service of Major General and then Senator Jim Molan. To Jim's wife Anne, his children, and his grandchildren I send my love and prayers. May the memory of this truly great Australian be a blessing.

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