Barnaby Joyce (New England, National Party, Shadow Minister for Veterans' Affairs) Share this | Hansard source

I second the motion. Deputy Speaker, when we go to a war memorial, we see names. We see your name; we see Chesters. We see the names Leigh, Buchholz and Pearce. We see the names of people of Czech descent. We see the names of so many people—McCormack. They're just names, but they're so much more. They represent people. They represent people who walked down your street. They represent people who took shade under your tree, who swam in your river and who went to your local primary school. They were people who were loved. They were people who had wives and people who had girlfriends, people who had mates and, later on, people who had husbands.

They were not superhumans. They had all the reasons not to go to war. They had all the reasons to stay at home, where it was safe. But nonetheless they did. They went and they fought, and so many of them gave their lives. That was it. There was nothing more for them. They were dead. Others came back maimed or psychologically disturbed. And then, beyond that, some came back and the marriage was over—no more marriage. Or they came back and they were just forgotten about, to later die and be buried in a pauper's grave, unmarked. Or life had just gone on without them, their careers left behind.

For so many, all that is left is their name on that memorial. That is it. And, for that, in the Australian context they are sacred. They are sacred. For so many of us, it is your grandfather, your great-grandfather, your granduncle, your son, your daughter, your mum or your dad. It's the connection to that. 'That's all I've got. All I've got left is that name.' I had seven granduncles killed—seven. Every one of my grandmother's brothers—dead. They were English; they weren't Australian. The desecration is abominable.

My father wouldn't even let you draw a swastika. You were not allowed to—not on a German plane; nothing—because symbols matter. Symbols matter. What you draw matters. He was a returned serviceman. He was repatriated. He was smashed up. These are the things where we have to make a stand.

On those war memorials are the names of Catholics, Protestants, Jews and gentiles, Christians and people of the Islamic faith. Every name is there. My grandfather fought with innumerable people of the Islamic faith, absolutely, at Gallipoli—surrounded by them.

When we think about this, a person decided to sneak out in the night with a can of spray paint. Do you know why they sneaked out in the middle of the night? Because he or she was scared. That is why they sneaked out. Scared of what—the police? What would the police do? They would arrest you. And then he or she sprayed the anarchy sign, in most instances, on our war memorials for these people. But guess what they went out against? They faced the fire coming the other direction. They had real fear they could die—die at Gallipoli, die on the Western Front, die at Guadalcanal, die in Papua New Guinea, die in Korea, die in Afghanistan, die in Vietnam. They had real fear, and they would have felt that fear; they would not have been immune from it. And their families will mourn their loss forevermore. The only thing left for those families is that piece of brass with their families' names on it. And someone—some piece of filth—has decided that their issue allows them to desecrate it.

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