Bill Shorten (Maribyrnong, Australian Labor Party, Minister for the National Disability Insurance Scheme) Share this | Hansard source

In the 123 years of the storied history of the parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia there are 1,244 individuals who've been elected to the House of Representatives. Each of those introduced themselves in their first speech, but only 216 ever got the chance to say goodbye, to give a valedictory. Political life is indeed tough. Election defeat, scandal, illness—section 44! I stand here neither defeated nor disposed, lucky to have served, fortunate to be able to say goodbye and thank you.

My first thank you is to my greatest good fortune—my family. To Chloe: you cast everything around you in a golden light. I love you with all my heart—your gift with people, the way you leave every room with five new friends, no baby left uncuddled and a promise to follow up on at least three new policy initiatives. It's not a learned skill; it's an innate quality. It's exactly who you are. And you've passed that on to our three beautiful children. Rupert, Gigi and Clementine: you've been conscripts for the rallies, the speeches, the branch meetings, the polling places—me after polling numbers!—and every community event imaginable, always quick to lift me up when I'm down and even quicker to bring me back to earth when I've needed it. You've given me so much more than I can ever give you, and I don't tell you this enough but I'm so incredibly proud of each of you.

To the McGrath and Bryce clans: I'm sorry that you've had such a shy and retiring relative.

And I cannot leave off my family thankyou list my faithful British bulldog, Walter. Thank you, buddy, for your unconditional loyalty and being the best listener I've ever met.

Mr Speaker, the first role of a member of the House of Representatives is as a local member. I am exceptionally grateful to the voters of Maribyrnong for electing me on six consecutive occasions to this place. When Barry Humphries dreamed up Dame Edna, he based her character on Moonee Ponds, the epitome and epicentre of post-war suburban Australia and the epicentre of my electorate. Today, walking down Puckle Street is to glimpse cultures and traditions from every part of the world. And, for all the diversity, the people are united by a common pride in our community. Gee it's been an honour to represent some superb family businesses: Lee and Tony at Fresh on Young, Ali at Dan Dan's, Cameron at Ascot Saddlery, Olga at Paulene Maree, and so many, many more. You've been the studio for countless live crosses, street walks and Today shows.

A big shout-out to my neighbours—Josefina, Rob and his late wife, Katie—and to the Travancore brigade. You've had to put up with the giant buses, the stalkers, the staffers, the journalists and other undesirables.

I thank the great people of Maribyrnong for putting their trust in me.

You don't have to sit in the parliament to serve the parliament or our nation. I thank all the outstanding Commonwealth public servants I've worked with over many years in Treasury, the ATO, Education, Workplace Relations, the ADF, Hearing Australia, Services Australia, the NDIA, DSS and many more. I thank all the people who make this building tick—the clerks; the security guards; Dom and his team at Aussies; the cleaners, who are graciously here today. You are all indispensable. To my Comcar drivers, Steve, Smokey and Peter, and your wives: thank you for making the trip up from Melbourne. You flatter me very much.

Then there are the people that Ryan Liddell used to call my 'paid friends'—that hurt! Behind every politician, all of us, there are dedicated personal staff. Through my 17 years in parliament, 196 have worked for me. The magnificent Sandra Papasidero, who's held my diary, my travel and my life together for 11 years, knows this because she has spoken with nearly all of them in the lead-up to today. There is the remarkable Rod Gurry, who's been my eyes and ears in Maribyrnong right the way through; he's seen them all come and all go. It's a bedrock convention in this place that we don't name all the staff; they don't seek the spotlight, and we don't put it on them. I wanted to up-end that, and name them all. Sadly, the central agencies, as they do, briefed against me in ERC! So I've compromised, and I'll table a list, a roll call, of 196 really great Australians.

Honourable members: Hear, hear!

I say to my staff and former staff: thank you for your patience and your sacrifice for going one day longer. Thank you for always being prepared to craft bold policy—and to tell me when to stop crafting bold policy! Thank you for taking, or faking, an interest in the Roman Empire and Napoleon—toy soldiers are not toys; they're miniature history—and dioramas. And thank you for dealing with the other servants of our democracy—yes, the press gallery. I should note that ever since I announced with the Prime Minister that I was leaving politics, I've never had better coverage and my opponents have never been nicer!

I've worked with some outstanding people through the years—Amit, Sam, James, Fiona, Antonia, Maree, Shawn and many more. I'm pleased, in fact, that three of my former staff now sit here in the chamber as members of parliament. Indeed, many of my staff have gone on to great things. I'm sort of okay if some of you don't mention me on your CV—but only sort of! All of you will always be able to find your name in Hansard on this day, with my gratitude.

On an occasion like this, a measure of nostalgia is impossible to resist. But I don't want to merely reflect on my past; I want to talk about our nation's future—about the better, smarter and more prosperous destination we can reach, and about the people and the institutions which will take Australia there. It is said that humanity's capacity for justice makes democracy possible but its inclination to injustice makes democracy necessary. Right now, around the globe, democracy is under greater challenge than at any time since the Second World War. We cannot dismiss these things just because we are the fortunate possessors of an island continent far away, hoping our distance makes us immune from troubles elsewhere. We have to jealously guard and nourish our democracy and safeguard our pluralist society. I'm proud to have served in three institutions essential to this endeavour: the Australian Workers Union, the Australian Labor Party and the Commonwealth parliament.

I got my MBA from the Melbourne Business School, but it was the members of the first great democratic institution I served, the Australian Workers Union, who taught me about the economy through the privilege of representing them: steelworkers, shipbuilders, fruit pickers on the Murray, tow operators on our ski fields, greenkeepers, winery workers, chicken growers, embalmers and coffin makers, stablehand shearers, aluminium operators, civil construction, and netballers and jockeys too—champion athletes who had won everything finally winning the right to decent pay and conditions.

These members were my school, and they taught me about people too. Across the diversity of Australia's locations, occupations and circumstances, when you scratch the surface we Australians share the same aspirations and nurture the same hopes. We Australians by and large are a pragmatic bunch. We don't tend to think in terms of 'isms' or 'ologies'. We don't have time in our day for every new outrage and shock. Most Australians focus on the fundamentals: family, health, home and community.

The AWU took me from oil rigs in Bass Strait to farms and factories all over Australia, and it took me to Beaconsfield—the fortnight that began with a fatal, catastrophic rockfall and ended in a man-made miracle. I'll never forget that when Larry Knight's body was found on the Friday, after the rockfall of the Tuesday night, management talked about stopping the rescue so the coroner could take control of the site. I was witness outside the superintendent's office when a salt-of-the-earth AWU miner, Garth Bonney from Rocky Cape, looked at everyone—the police and the coroner—and he said: 'This is not a recovery operation, it's a rescue mission. Until we know different, there are men down there who are still alive.' So a group of modest heroes dug through hard rock and saved their mates, and when Brant and Todd emerged from that mine shaft and tagged out I certainly made sure they got paid for every day that they were trapped down there.

I'll also never forget the faces and the names of members who were let down by the system. I remember the explosion at the Esso gas plant in Longford. Two men were killed; two others were badly burned, including Heath, whose wife gave birth while he was on that fateful shift, and the baby didn't see him without bandages for months, and months and months. There was Graham, a mechanic I had signed up one week, who was crushed to death under a bobcat the next. There was Allan, a fitter, whose arm was severed and amputated in a conveyor belt that was neither properly guarded nor immobilised. There was Mario whose lungs were scarred in a single breath after an explosion from a non-ferrous furnace. And Owen—I can still see him at the Caulfield rehab, sitting on his bed, one leg amputated at the hip and the other at the knee, because of a trench collapse. These are all reminders of the most fundamental workplace right of all: the right to come home safely.

I was elected to the leadership of the AWU at a very tough time in its history—falling membership and neglected awards were the fruit of a poisoned amalgamation. At the 1997 ACTU congress, in Brisbane, there was only one thing on the mind of delegates: whether to dismember the mighty AWU and divvy up its membership to rival unions or not. But the state AWU leaders—some of whom are here today—our members and I reinvigorated the show. We held true to its best traditions as a modern, moderate, honest democratic union.

In this colossal task, and often since, I've benefited from the wisdom of Bill Kelty, who's here today: the understanding that the right of workers to organise for fair wages and decent conditions must move in concert with the imperative for employers to create the wealth that pays the fair wages of the workers' jobs. Modern, honest democratic trade unions should always seek to work with good employers. There should be no dividing line any longer in this parliament between those who are pro- or anti-employer and those who are pro- or anti-union. This country no longer has the time to waste on that false choice. We can work together, and our nation needs this. It is what I've always sought to do.

There is a degree of irony.

With all the effort I put into ensuring that both workers and companies could benefit from negotiating better agreements, my reward was to be asked a thousand questions for two whole days at the now discredited trade union royal commission—more questions than any CFMEU official; although, to be fair none of them were Leader of the Labor Party! Genuinely, it's a bit easier for me to see the funny side now, and I'm sure the incomparable Sharon McCrohan would agree, as would Leon Zwier, known to many as 'Mr Fixit' and to me as just a great friend.

The second important democratic institution I have served is the Australian Labor Party. In fact, serving as the Labor leader for nearly six years was the great privilege of my public life. Our party is indeed a grand and enduring national institution, but its life and strength have always been its people upon whose shoulders I have stood—from the rank-and-file members of the Maribyrnong Labor Party to true believers like George Wright, Neil Pope, Judy Maddigan and the late senator Kimberley Kitching, to name a few. Then there are my perennial comrades in arms, Earl and Luke, Andrew and JP, Michael and Silky, Mocca and Craig: thank you!

But all of us in the parliamentary party are merely the tip of the spear. We march at the head of a movement. We carry the hopes and aspirations of millions of working people who want better for their families and our country, and we champion the cause of the most vulnerable. These are the values and policies that the Albanese government will take to the next election—and this is the work I am confident that my colleagues will continue in government after the next election.

Serving the Labor Party gave me a rare honour to work with one's heroes. I got to work with Gareth Evans and Robert Ray, with Simon Crean and Barry Jones—and, of course, Paul Keating, who when I became leader I invited back to the caucus room for the first time since 1996. It remains a source of enduring pride that the last act of collaboration between Paul Keating and Bob Hawke was their joint opinion piece advocating for the platform that we took to the 2019 election. It's just a shame more people didn't read it!

Through my time as Labor leader I was proud to lead not just a strong opposition but a genuine, positive alternative. I think it's a fitting time to thank my deputy, Tanya Plibersek, in particular for the unwavering support she offered me in those moments. When those of us who were here after 2013 look back after that defeat, we'd been reduced to 54 seats, and I recall—to borrow a phrase from Tony Abbott—the battlelines we drew. They united us, defined us, rebuilt us.

Labor is always at its best when we know who and what we are fighting for. We stood against the cuts and austerity of 2014. We stood for Medicare, education and pensioners. We stood against the abolition of ARENA and we stood for real ambition and action on climate. We stood against the entrenchment of inequality and trickle-down economics and we stood for genuine tax reform. We stood against everyday Australians being ripped off. We stood for a banking royal commission. We stood against a harmful, unnecessary, lazy taxpayer funded opinion poll inviting strangers to vote on other people's relationships. We stood for marriage equality.

I know we didn't win every battle. I know perhaps some of my ideas were ahead of their time—if there ever is a time for them! But some, such as new incentives for electric vehicles, more Australian manufacturing, new investments in TAFE, and childcare worker wages, are becoming a reality under this government. And there are others I hope can be picked up in the future, in particular the 2019 policy to ensure that all forms of cancer treatment are fully covered by Medicare. When you're in the fight of your life, Medicare should be there with you. Cancer may make you sick, but it shouldn't make you poor.

The third great democratic institution I've served is the parliament. From time to time politicians declare that a particular issue is 'above politics'. Now, that sentiment does come from a good place. The parliament has the responsibility to make democracy work.

The idea is that we shouldn't let big, important questions be caught in the quicksand of name-calling, gotchas and sloganeering that we are all prone to. But we all know this is not the totality of politics, any more than do the first salvos of question time reflect the business of a sitting day. And—no shade on you, Mr Speaker—I'm not proud to say that sometimes during question time we are pretty ungovernable, although you should count yourself lucky you're not in the Senate.

I want to be clear, though, that we do have, and I support, an adversarial system to test ideas. The potential for disagreement or argument or the proper interrogation of ideas should never be avoided nor averted. That does nothing to build trust in politics or democracy. This place must rise to the big issues and engage with them thoughtfully and respectfully. Let us not just be a stage for noisy actors talking at each other, over each other and past each other. Parliament has a responsibility to ensure that the extremes of the left and the right do not set the terms of engagement of ideas in this country, otherwise ideological trenches become deeper and the centre ground becomes no-man's-land.

I am a proud moderate. My goal has always been to turn ideas into outcomes. I reject outright the argument that being moderate is a sign of conservatism or apathy. You can be in the centre of Australian political life and be a reformer, be a humanitarian and, indeed, be radical in the terms of your ambition to get things done for the Australian people. I think being a moderate is an acknowledgement that Australians hold broad and diverse and competing views. But the majority in the middle should never be held hostage to the few on the zealous fringe.

Personally, I know what good this parliament can do. I think back to the terrible times after the Black Saturday fires of 2009, where 173 of our fellow Australians perished. I saw our investments, informed by more than 50 of my own visits to communities devastated by Black Saturday. And I think back to the class action that spelled the end of robodebt, together with the royal commission to make sure that it can't happen again; better flood insurance definitions, when we listened to Queenslanders who explained how they were dudded in the 2011 floods; our FOFA reforms, shaped by people who'd been ripped off by unethical advice; and an asbestos safety agency and laws against workplace bullying, delivered because we listened to the victims and talked to the experts and examined the evidence.

Sometimes progress in parliament takes time. When I was Assistant Treasurer in about 2012 or perhaps 2013, I moved, and we passed, legislation to increase superannuation from nine to 12 per cent. I'm pleased to say that on 1 July, 13 years later, we have reached that milestone. Slowed down by successive governments, it was initiated and has been delivered now by Labor.

But closest to my heart, and I know to the hearts of many members here, is the National Disability Insurance Scheme. When I became Parliamentary Secretary for Disabilities and Children's Services in 2007, I thought I'd seen hardship and disadvantage, but nothing prepared me for the way that literally thousands—hundreds of thousands—of Australians with disability and the people who love them were sentenced to a second-class life of lesser opportunity, or for the midnight sleepless anxiety of parents in their 80s wondering who will look after and love their adult child when they no longer can.

Together with Bruce Bonyhady, John Walsh, Rhonda Galbally, Kirsten Deane, Bronwyn Morecomb, Jenny Macklin and many others, we created and organised and animated an army of everyday Australians determined to change this. I think the result was the most significant social reform in this century for Australia. But it is something that the whole parliament should take ownership of and pride in. The NDIS belongs alongside Medicare and superannuation as an example of Australian exceptionalism in building the fair go. In creating the NDIS, we didn't look to international precedent but, instead, we created a global precedent, because, at our best, we in this parliament know that the best in the world is only just good enough for the Australian people.

The NDIS gives dignity and agency to people with disability. It is by no means perfect, but it is changing hundreds of thousands of lives.

Choice and control—its great strength comes from putting people with disability at the centre, trusting them to make decisions. All of this underpinning the NDIS derives from the best of modern Australian values: kindness in another's trouble. The understanding that disability could affect anyone of us or someone we love at any time therefore matters to all of us.

I am forever grateful to Kevin Rudd and Julia Gillard for the privilege of serving as disability spokesperson and for recognising an idea that's time had come. I want to thank the Prime Minister for the opportunity he gave me to serve in his cabinet to get the NDIS back on track. At its birth and in its repair, I must acknowledge as well, though, that the overwhelming majority of the parliament, the opposition and the government, wanted to make sure of the scheme. Whilst the NDIS was a Labor government initiative, it is not a Labor government issue. This has been parliament at its best.

In opposition, I took the same view on national security. We worked constructively with prime ministers Abbott, Turnbull, Morrison. But it was not unquestioning bipartisanship. For example, I think that my decision to oppose the Australia-China extradition treaty has stood the test of time. But I always understood, as did Labor, that dealing with threats of terrorism, foreign interference and homegrown extremism depends on us putting the national interest first.

I understand now in a way I never could at the start of my 17 years of service that the party political process is important, but the parliament is even more so. This is the place where the national interest should be pre-eminent over partisanship and ideology. I've mentioned that in regard to industrial relations, to national security and to the NDIS, and I want to talk about some other areas where I think parliament can do better in the future, how future parliaments can best serve the next generation of Australians.

This begins with the unfinished business for the nation: climate. Climate change is not a Labor issue or a Liberal issue or a Greens party issue or a teal issue. It's the world we live in, and it's the country we pass on to our grandchildren. It concerns every Australian.

So too does the unfinished business of tax reform. At the beginning of this year, the government created fairer income tax cuts for all working Australians, but I still remain convinced our system still taxes property preferentially and lightly and income heavily. As a result, young Australians carry a disproportionate share of the tax burden. Not only do they pay more tax now than others did a generation ago; they also pay more for their education than ever before, and that's why I was so pleased with our government's announcement to help erase some of the burden. And it is harder than ever for young Australians to save for a first home. The government understands increasing supply is the essential part of solving our problem. It's why we're building more homes. We must not become a society where the best predictor of a young person's future likelihood of owning a home is their parents' current bank balance.

We also have unfinished business on defence and foreign policy as our world changes. The government has made significant advances in our relationships with old allies and important trading partners, but we need to continue to develop even further our own defence capabilities within the bonds of existing alliances and prioritise even more Australian foreign policy with an Australian accent. There are big nations that threaten our small and close neighbours. The Pacific is not an empty ocean we fly over, rather a blue continent of diverse cultures.

And, on the subject of enduring cultures, parliament has unfinished business with our First Nations people. The Uluru process proposed a voice to parliament to help this process. It was a novel idea. Sadly, recognition in our Constitution has become a toxic issue. I remain hopeful that, with good faith on all sides, we can achieve recognition of Indigenous Australians in our nation's birth certificate and genuine empowerment for our First Nations people, including the work of treaties. The traditional owners of this land don't actually ask much from this parliament, but they do ask for recognition of 65,000 years of continuing connection to this continent that we're all lucky to call home.

Finally, our parliament and our nation most definitely have unfinished business on the march to the equal treatment of women in Australia, and there is no more shocking indictment or measure of inequality between men and women than violence against women.

In this job, in my life, in every battle I've fought and in all the causes I've championed so far, my strength has come from having people believe in me—having people on my side. Now, in my new role as Vice-Chancellor of the University of Canberra, I choose the side of young people. I choose to be on the side of the people who will nurture their inquisitive minds: their lecturers and tutors. I choose to be on the side of the phenomenal researchers whose work impacts our society. I choose to be on the side of the knowledge keepers and the knowledge seekers because they are instrumental to our future. I choose young Australians—their aspirations, their dreams and their education. I choose those who embrace lifelong learning.

I'm excited to have new horizons to strive towards in the national interest, consistent with the values that have animated me my whole working life and to give something back to the city of Canberra, which has been, for many of us, our second home for so long. Canberra gets a bad rap, usually because people associate it with us. But its role as the host of our parliament gives it a 'main character' energy—a welcoming and clever community, a culture and arts hub and a magnificent natural environment. It has 447 iconic bus stops. It has more roundabouts than any other city in the world.

Soon after the 2019 election loss, I was chatting to some English relatives—well after I'd rescinded my English citizenship. There's scar tissue. They gave me a remarkable dose of perspective. They reminded me that my great-grandfather William Menzies Cameron was a dockworker in Tyneside—perhaps not surprisingly to some, chairman of the shop stewards at the Swan and Palmer dockyards. His daughter—my grandma—was a cleaner, a barmaid and, indeed, an air raid warden during the Blitz. She lived in council housing. Her son—my father—trained as a fitter and turner. He was a seafarer for more than 20 years. He then worked in the definite rough and tumble of the Melbourne ship repair industry. In fact, the family history of seafaring is one of the reasons why I, like the Prime Minister, have always championed a strategic merchant marine fleet, and I acknowledge the work that Minister King is doing on that.

My English relatives said to me that my grandma could not have imagined a world where her grandson could be a member of parliament, let alone run for Prime Minister not once but twice. They could not wrap their mind around this country. And, ultimately, it's not a reflection on me. It's a tribute to us, and it's a tribute to our country. Our nation has flourished as the home of the second chance, the land of the fair go—a place where every generation can hope for better for the next. More than anything else, education is what makes that possible. Education is the hope of the world. It has lifted literally millions out of poverty. It has been a force for progress and equality. It is the most reliable path from disadvantage to advantage, and it teaches the critical thinking crucial to preserving our democracy.

This is my mother's story. My mother loved the power of education. She loved university. She was the first in her family to attend. Her stock—and I'm surprised the royal commission missed this—were convicts. It was 1831; there's probably a statute of limitations. Her stock were unsuccessful gold prospectors, Eureka rebels and trouble-making left-wing tradies in the mid-20th century. But the first time my twin brother, Robert, and I were at university with mum, we were four years old at the kindergarten while she was lecturing in the education faculty. The next time, Rob and I were in first-year law, and mum was a mature-age law student who, that year, won the Supreme Court Prize. So I actually see this next phase in my life as a chance to pick up some of the threads of what my mother taught my brother and me all those years ago. She used to say: 'Never forget where you come from. Never judge a person by how much money they have or what possessions they own. Instead, everyone has merit. Everyone has value. Everyone deserves the chance to fulfil their potential.'

That's what this parliament has been about for me. It's what the next chapter of my life is about.

When I announced I would not be contesting the next election, I quoted 'Ole Blue Eyes', Frank Sinatra:

Regrets, I've had a few, but then again too few to mention.

You do regret your mistakes; you don't forget your failures. Oh, what I would give to go back to election day 2016 and turn that sausage in bread and eat it a different way. Some of your failures become the best of you.

I have known in this place extraordinary highs and some painful lows. Good days and hard days and sleepless nights. I would not hand back a single minute of a single hour of a single day that I've spent in this place or in this job. I leave here full of gratitude to all those who've made it possible. I leave here full of optimism for the future of the movement and the party I love, the people we serve and the country we are so fortunate to call home.

I have always been and remain ambitious for Australia. This flows through my faith in our people, my optimism in the future, and my deep and abiding love of our nation. I encourage future parliaments to carry this sense of ambition forward. Be ambitious and mature on climate. Be ambitious to be a good neighbour in the Pacific. Be ambitious for Australian foreign policy to have an Australian accent. Be ambitious on tax reform. Be ambitious for a fairer relationship with our First Nations people. But perhaps most of all, be ambitious for the young people of this country who currently feel disenfranchised, disengaged and dismissed by the political process. Be ambitious for what you all can accomplish here.

It is a privilege to serve this great democratic institution. It is a privilege to be part of the power to forge a path for a more productive, moderate, compassionate and inclusive Australia. My final advice to future parliamentarians: our time here is finite. Fill every unforgiving minute with 60 seconds of distance run. I and the Australian people will be urging you on and wishing you well. For the last time, I thank the House.

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