Milton Dick (Speaker) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

The question is that the address be agreed to. Before I call the honourable member for Bennelong, I remind the House that this is the honourable member's first speech and I ask the House to extend to them the usual courtesies. I give the call to the honourable member for Bennelong.

Jerome Laxale (Bennelong, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I begin by acknowledging the traditional custodians of the land we meet on today, the Ngunnawal and Ngambri peoples, and pay respect to their continuing culture and their ongoing contribution to this region.

I also acknowledge Bennelong's traditional custodians, the Wallumedegal, who lived for generations in a rich environment of river flats, mangrove swamps and creeks. Their land is called Wallumetta and it is a rich sandstone basin oasis. The Wallumedegal fished with pronged spears and handlines; they gathered shellfish and hunted birds and small game. Wallumetta was their home—until it wasn't. European settlement dispossessed the Wallumedegal, while an earthwork fort at Parramatta forced them to move down the river to The Flats, located near Meadowbank.

In 1789, a devastating smallpox epidemic swept through Sydney and Wallumetta. Many deaths, particularly senior knowledge-holders and women, caused an unprecedented demographic upheaval. It is believed that the epidemic killed so many of the Wallumedegal that there are now no known descendants left.

Invasion and dispossession destroyed the Wallumedegal. As we acknowledge them, their tragic history must be known as we continue along the path of reconciliation and truth-telling.

Bennelong is also home to its namesake. Woollarawarre Bennelong is buried locally with his wife, Boorong. He is remembered as courageous, intelligent and good with children.

There's something special in the fact that, both times Labor has held Bennelong, we have worked with the Indigenous community to deliver long-overdue action and reform. In 2007, it was the Apology to the Stolen Generations, and, in this term, a referendum on an Indigenous Voice to Parliament.

Modern-day Bennelong is home to those who wish to be welcomed and those who want to contribute. It is home for those who love our country and want it to succeed. It's a melting pot of stories, cultures and people who collectively want to make our nation better, stronger and safer. Bennelong is home to the modern Australia. We are a vibrant, culturally diverse, entrepreneurial community that strives for success. We want it for our families and our friends, for our local economy and for our nation.

Bennelong is the Lane Cove River to the north and the Parramatta River to the south. It is the bustling town centres of Eastwood, West Ryde, Ermington, Putney, Gladesville, Epping and Carlingford, and it is the economic powerhouse of Macquarie Park, Australia's eighth-largest economy and home to some of the most innovative businesses in the country and the world. It's the tranquil cul de sacs, our new vertical suburbs, the pockets of protected urban forests and the weekend whistles at netball courts and soccer fields.

And, for the last 16 years, Bennelong has been my home. It's where my kids go to school, where I live with my partner, Jo, and where I work. It's where I go to the pub to grab a beer and where I choose to treat myself when I decide to go out for dinner. Bennelong is where I've lived the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. My connection to Bennelong and its community defines who I am. You've heard it all before, but to be here, in this place, representing my home, is something that I'll forever be thankful for.

Special thanks to my predecessor, John Alexander, for his 12 years of service to the parliament and to Bennelong. He is a good man and was a great local member. I had the pleasure of working with Mr Alexander in my former capacity as Mayor of the City of Ryde. We shared a common interest in sport, high-speed rail and the delivery of affordable housing.

I also pay tribute to former member Maxine McKew, who paved the way for Labor to believe it could win Bennelong. Her campaign was the very first federal campaign I volunteered for, alongside the member for Reid, and it's such an honour to repeat her extraordinary feat 15 years on. And, of course, thank you to the people of Bennelong for their faith in me and their trust in our new Prime Minister.

Here's a little bit of trivia for you, Mr Speaker: there have been more former members of Bennelong called John than there have been members from the Labor Party. Bennelong only chooses Labor in the most exceptional of circumstances. Colleagues, I recognise the magnitude of our win and acknowledge the weight of my community's expectations on me to deliver. And I'll deliver for them. My priority throughout my time in this place will be to do as I have done in my 10 years in public office. I will work hard and be available to my community.

I would not be here without the support of a village. There are too many to name them all, but, naturally, I'd like to single out a few. First to the Prime Minister—no, I'm not sucking up. I genuinely would not have been here if it were not for him. He persisted and persisted and on his third attempt convinced me to run. At one stage, I believe, he was the only person in Australia that believed I could win Bennelong—turns out he was right. Thank you, Mr Prime Minister, for this fantastic opportunity to serve in the government you lead.

To my wonderful campaign team—to Michael Butterworth, James Gibson, Madelaine Knight, Jananie Janarthana and Oliver Plunket—thank you for your help throughout my time in public life and for tirelessly managing our ever-growing team during our 56-day campaign and sprint to the finish line.

Thank you to my mentor, former New South Wales Deputy Premier and member for Ryde John Watkins. When I was a first-time candidate, he gave me advice that I still use to this day: 'Stay active and be yourself; you never know what surprises politics will serve up.' How right he was.

Thanks also to Evan Hughes; Gerard Hayes at the Health Services Union; Mel Gatfield and the United Workers Union; and Julia Angrisano and Nik Singh from the Financial Services Union for their support.

To my good friend and colleague George Simon, a self-confessed 'Bennelong agnostic': thank you for your guidance and support and for trusting the polling.

To our local party and branch members: your support over the last decade has been unflinching. From the ups and downs, the wins and the losses, thank you for your loyalty to the party and for continuing to support me as your local candidate.

Special thanks to my parents, Alain and Roselyne; their partners, LC and Allen; and my step-siblings, Julyanne and Eric.

To my partner, Jo, and her wonderful kids, Alfie and Will, thank you for welcoming me into your home and for letting me store A-frames in your garage. Jo, after a few rough years for us both, I'm so happy that you're here as my partner.

Lastly, to my amazing and wonderful children, Madeline, Amelie and Harry—over there, give a wave—thank you for being you and for reminding me every day to live life to its fullest. I'm sorry that my face ends up plastered on your school fence every now and then. I'd like to use the floor of parliament to let you all know how much you mean to me and that my life is made better because of you all. I'm truly grateful for your love and support, and I hope that during my time in this place I can make you proud.

Few people see or understand the toll marginal seat candidacy takes on those closest to us. It is, and has been, incredibly difficult. The late nights, the way that this job consumes the everyday and, of course, the unbelievable public scrutiny have all left scar tissue on my family. This is not the politics that I believe Australia values, and it is terrible that it's what we have come to expect. I'll do all I can in the decisions that I make to drag politics out of the gutter and into the real world.

Recently, I celebrated 10 years in public life: first as a councillor, then as Labor's only second ever Mayor in the City of Ryde—and, for five years, its longest-serving. I cherished my time in local government as we transformed a sleepy conservative council into a progressive powerhouse. We set a 100 per cent net renewable energy target by 2030 and achieved it eight years early, in 2022. We led the way with a compassionate and visionary affordable housing policy, delivering, in a few short years, around 30 homes owned by the council in perpetuity and leased at affordable rates to key workers. Ryde is projected to own 600 affordable rental homes due to this policy. And, of course, we implemented huge investments in parks and playgrounds for a growing and changing city. I thank my colleagues Councillors Penny Pedersen, Charles Song, Katie O'Reilly and Bernard Purcell for their support over the years on the council and for their hard work to get me here today.

Throughout my public life and my years in the private sector, I've been asked two questions: 'Why politics?' and, 'Why the Labor Party?' I think about these questions a lot.

Like 66 per cent of those who live in Bennelong, both my parents were born overseas. When they moved to Australia, they didn't speak a word of English. My father, originally from Mauritius, a small island off the eastern coast of Africa, came here at 13 years old. The Laxale family, all nine of them, crammed into a two-bedroom home in Darling Street in Balmain. Balmain back then was a bit different from how it is now! My grandfather ran a fruit shop, and my grandmother became a nurse. Dad never went to school in Australia. At the age of 13, he began a life of work and continues to have a work ethic that astounds me to this day. My mother, from Ile de la Reunion, a French department and an even smaller island off the eastern coast of Africa, met my father on a holiday. She settled here in the eighties, and my parents set up a home in Western Sydney.

My family always remind me of quirky stories of fitting into a new way of life and how their cultures would sometimes clash with that of their new home. The nights that Dad and his Mauritian mates played dominos while Mum and her friends played cards, which would then turn into a party with nearly everyone dancing the sega, which is a popular Mauritian folk dance—look it up—were all part of my experience growing up. My father told me that his father, upon his arrival in Australia, was greeted at the airport by an Aussie customs officer. When asked, 'Did you come here today?' my grandfather paused, then replied, sheepishly, 'To day? No, I came here to live.'

I pay tribute to all those families who left their home, a place with cultures and accents they understood, to set up a new life here in Australia. May Australia always be a destination that welcomes those who are seeking to unlock the hope and promise of this land and our people.

Like 58 per cent of families in Bennelong, our household spoke a language other than English at home. We spoke a mixture of French and Mauritian Creole. While Dad quickly learned English on the job, my mum learned how to speak English by watching game shows on TV. And, though I was born here, I'm told that when I started school I didn't know a word of English. Des foix, quand je veux garder quelque chose un peu prive, je parle en francais avec mes parents et de temps en temps mo ca pav parler un tigit Kreole Moricien. You'll need to translate that if you want to know what I said!

Schooled in Seven Hills, then Parramatta, I made friends with people of all backgrounds. I'd spend my weeknights and weekends at homes where a different language was spoken in nearly every setting: Mauritian Creole in one room, French and English in the other; Cantonese and Mandarin at a friend's place; and a fruit salad of languages when I was out and about at the shops. Every day at school and every weekend at home, I lived in the multicultural miracle that is Australia. It broadened my mind, it taught me to embrace the different and it has instilled in me an understanding of the value that diversity brings to our nation. Australian multiculturalism is truly magical. The way we live alongside one another and respect each other is our defining characteristic as a young federation.

Like many migrant families, my parents not only brought their language, cuisine and culture to Australia; they also brought their hunger to succeed. They worked so hard—firstly for others, then for themselves. Dad borrowed $1,000 from my grandfather and set up a small business from the back of a van. Both my parents worked incredibly long hours, growing their business and providing for their family.

What is fascinating about Bennelong is that, despite it being a community of incredible diversity, you'll hear strikingly similar stories. Just like the Lims, whose family started a small business in Eastwood 30 years ago—they too made sacrifices and worked hard for their family and their loyal customers. Then there are the Lees, who risked it all to set up Eastwood's first Chinese supermarket in the 1990s. It is now a hive of local activity, employing scores of locals and supporting the local economy in the now transformed Eastwood town centre. Then there's Karma, an extraordinary local businesswoman and a proud member of Bennelong's local Persian community: a hard worker, a strong mother and someone who I know to be fiercely pro small business.

What I find extraordinary about these three and so many I've met in my 16 years living in Bennelong is that we are a community that seeks and values personal success but also one that yearns for good government and a country that cares for its people. In the Bennelong I know, compassion is always in fashion. Bennelong is full of families who work hard for their personal success but who also want success for our community and nation. This mentality has defined who I am. It's the reason why I'm here and it's the reason why I'm a member of the Labor Party. I'm here because I want our tradies, IT technicians, frontline workers and small-business owners to have success. But I'm also here because I don't believe that personal success should be at the expense of others.

There aren't many professions where one decision can help transform someone's life. A decision to build and invest in affordable housing can change the trajectory of someone's life forever. A cheap, safe, warm roof over your head means just so much. It can break the shackles of generational poverty and inequality that still exist in our nation. The decision to take action on climate change and to put the environment back as a priority will save lives, create jobs, create certainty for emerging industries and protect species across our nation. Decisions to drive wage growth, to provide a First Nations voice to parliament, to fund cheaper child care, to boost skilled immigration, to allow more people to become citizens and permanent residents, to fix the National Disability Insurance Scheme, to make it easier to see a doctor, to make new medicines affordable, to embrace the latest in medical technology, to repair our international relationships, and to fix aged care are all decisions that will transform the lives of people throughout our nation. And some said we had a small-target strategy! Well, like many of you, I'm not here to be part of a small-target government.

I'm in this place because I want it to be the home of good government. I'm here to make decisions that will help industry grow, while also ensuring that workers and their wages are not left behind. I'm here to make sure every government protects communities from racial vilification and discrimination, instead of playing politics with national security in the search for cheap votes. I'm here because I want to push the government to be ambitious on matters that matter to Bennelong and to the nation.

Whilst I'm incredibly proud to be in a parliament that has finally taken action on climate change, I know the science tells us that we need to go further. The drivers of climate change must be acknowledged frankly and fearlessly. We need to work with the big emitters, but we cannot be a government that delivers their talking points and presents their solutions in response to our climate crisis. I would like to use what precious time we have in government to continue to drive down emissions over and above the 43 per cent that this House legislated. This isn't a small ask, but it's very achievable. As we did during the pandemic, on climate change and emissions reduction, we need to trust the experts and we need to trust the science.

We also need to grow our economy so that my kids and their kids aren't burdened with repaying the former government's debt. Businesses big and small right across the nation are not operating at capacity due to a mixture of low unemployment, once-in-a generation skills shortages, and outdated migration policies that do not meet the needs of our modern, agile and diverse economy. I'm so proud that our government has already used the levers it has to skill up local workers and has shifted the conversation from temporary to permanent migration. The Australian economic miracle was built on the back of successful, skilled and permanent migration. We should encourage workers to come here, to contribute to growing our economy and to become Australian citizens, just like my parents did.

I also think we need to have a conversation about how the Commonwealth funds schools. I proudly send my kids to amazing local public schools, but I'd like to share with you today that I went to one of the country's most prestigious private schools. Yes, believe it or not, even these types of schools can produce Labor MPs! Recently I asked my dad why he sent me there, and he said, 'Son, I left school at 13 and I've been working my whole life. I drove past this school, saw its grandeur and prestige and said, "I want the best education for my family.''' He confessed that when he enrolled me he didn't earn enough money to pay for the fees. My parents both worked incredibly hard and made extraordinary sacrifices to send me to that school, and I don't begrudge them for doing it. That's what parents do. It was a great school, and I received an excellent education. Private and faith based education should and will always be part of our system, but they should not be the sole choice when someone aspires for the best education. The best education should be available to all at all schools, public and private, and, to that end, the Commonwealth funding must be fair and it must have strings attached. We now have public schools that are scrambling to fix old toilets, where some private schools are scrambling to build new pavilions. I find this to be unfair, unsustainable and not in the national interest.

I'm proud to be here as the first member for Bennelong with a non-English-speaking background and a funny-sounding name. I'm here as someone with small business in my blood, as someone who is entrepreneurial and aspirational, just like those in my electorate. And I'm here as a proud member of the Australian Labor Party.

Having a dig at party politics is all the rage right now, and, while I concur that there's always room for improvement, I'm one of those that believe in the potential of a united, disciplined and strong political party. I mean, just take a look at this side of the chamber. We're a collective of workers, doctors, economists, academics, engineers, unionists, frontline workers and shooters. We represent some of the richest electorates across the nation and some of the most disadvantaged. We are a party that is increasingly more diverse, with a growing cohort of First Nations MPs and senators.

I've learnt in my years in public life and in the Labor Party that you do not need to be a Greens to care for the environment or a Liberal to care about economic growth, nor do you need to be an Independent to be a true voice for your community. I'm here because I care about the environment. I'm here because I want our economy to grow. And I'm here because Bennelong needs a strong voice in Canberra.

As one voice, I might have influence, but, with 76 voices, I'm part of a government, and I know that this government won't waste a day. During my time here, I'll try to help individuals succeed, while ensuring that fairness and equality remain rooted in our national fabric. I'll work hard, be accessible and be ambitious for our nation. And, while I do, I hope you see in me, my history and how those closest to me have helped me get here. In me you'll see my father, Jean-Marc Yvan Alain, who taught me to work hard and to never give up. You'll see in me my mother, Reine-Marie Roselyne, who taught me to be unassuming, patient and to always dress well. You'll also see in me my partner, Joanne Mary, who has taught me to be passionate, caring and committed. And I hope in me you'll see me my kids, Madeline, Amelie and Harry, who are a constant reminder to me not to take myself too seriously and to make sure I have fun along the way.

Colleagues, I'm here for my family and for my community. And, for as long as I am in this place, I'll do my very best. I thank the House.

Milton Dick (Speaker) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

Before I call the honourable member for Flinders, I remind the House that this is the honourable member's first speech, and I ask the House to extend to her the usual courtesies.

Zoe McKenzie (Flinders, Liberal Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I rise to give my first speech to the 47th Parliament, representing the great electorate of Flinders. Like those who proceeded me, my speech takes the form of a reply to the opening address by the Governor-General. When His Excellency gave that address on 26 July in the other place, he did so on behalf of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II. Unlike most of my colleagues in the class of 2022, I stand here at the dawn of the new Carolean era, in the early days of the reign of King Charles III. As a parliament, we have spent the last weeks reflecting on the second Elizabethan age, the only age any of us here has ever known. Queen Elizabeth's reign was a time of great stability, constitutional fortitude and decency. She demonstrated a pure and enduring loyalty to her people, even in places which turned away from the monarchy during her reign. Those of us who stand here in this place at this time will have influence over the continued success or otherwise of the constitutional monarchy of Australia, which has served us so well for over a century.

As one of the first to speak in the Carolean era, I am honoured to join the 1,240 Australians who have become a member of this House of Representatives. But I feel I am by far the luckiest, for I come here with my pockets and my socks filled with the sand, the sea salt, the twigs, trees and rich soils of Victoria's Mornington Peninsula. I come here with her grapes and green vegetables in my belly; the squeals of her soccer, netball, basketball and footy teams in my ears; the endeavours of her small and family businesses and her tradies in my heart; and the breathtaking beauty of her hills, her beaches and her waters in my eyes.

As those of you who have been fortunate enough to visit the electorate of Flinders will know, it is a remarkably special place. I still have to pinch myself every time I drive from one end to the other, as I do most days, from my office in Somerville to my home in Sorrento—a place so good that my friend, the great Australian Tina Arena, wrote a song about it. I thank the good folk of Flinders for the privilege they have bestowed on me, the trust they have placed in me, in sharing their stories, their hopes, their fears and their needs to preserve the remarkable quality of life in such a precious part of this great nation.

Like so many in this place, I am the product of my parents or, in my case, my parent—my mother, Ann Shanahan. A cardiothoracic surgeon and later also simultaneously a practising lawyer, Mum brought me up on stories of politics and history rather than fairytales. On the weekends, as I accompanied her on her patient rounds, she would tell me the stories of the Russian Revolution and the rise of Nazi Germany. She would talk to me of her political heroes: Margaret Thatcher, Robert Menzies, Malcolm Fraser and above all John Howard, always John Howard—a man I would later come to know well and now call a friend.

Yet Mum's leitmotif was borrowed from Fraser: 'Life wasn't meant to be easy.' When she said it to me, as she often would, she did not mean it in a cruel or miserly way. She meant, 'You better get ready to work hard, young lady, because it is in being useful to others that you will find life's greatest satisfaction.' Mum led by example and feared nothing and no-one, and it is her values and work ethic which underpin my approach to this place.

Mum's life wasn't particularly easy, but her hard work meant that my childhood, relatively, was. She grew up in Gippsland, completed high school in Melbourne and placed second in her medical degree to the man she married after graduation, whose name I proudly carry. Between them, they won almost every scholarship and bursary on offer at the time and undertook postgraduate study and practice in North America in a period of enormous political turmoil.

Just as Mum was about to start her thoracic training, she conceived me. Finding herself in a career from which it was impossible to step aside and retain one's professional standing, she enticed the head nurse at the Royal Children's Hospital to become my mothercraft nurse, a profession long lost to the Australian vocabulary. Basically, she was someone employed to make sure I didn't die while Mum worked a 12-hour day—a task my mothercraft nurse, Molly, performed to perfection.

I didn't realise it then, but Mum and Molly were a formidable team in a changing time. It was only a decade or so ago that I learnt there had been a practice of removing newborns from single mothers which continued in this country well into the 1980s. Mum was technically married, but from the word 'go' she was fiercely determined to raise me on her own, and that put us precariously close—even if only in her anxious imagination—to an ongoing practice of facilitated, encouraged and in some cases forced adoption of so-called 'fatherless children'.

So Molly was my second parent, and she was with me every day until I turned five, whereupon she went on with her own life. And despite all my efforts to find her, she only reappeared a few years ago, in the last stages of advanced melanoma—a cancer I too had developed but had survived a few years earlier. I spent hours with Molly in her final weeks, hearing the glorious stories of my 1970s upbringing, including the one experience I will lord over all others who come to this place and try to tell me that they had a blessed childhood. You see, Molly took me to the ABBA concert at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl in 1977!

But there was something else that that reunion with Molly gave me: how proud she was of my mum and how thrilled she was to be part of a professional female super-duo raising a largely unaware little girl. One afternoon, Molly shared a shoebox of photos from my childhood that she had carried through her life for over 40 years. Flicking through them, I shrieked at one photo of me as a two-year-old, dressed in a hideous psychedelic orange-and-purple jumpsuit that looked a lot like a moving sleeping bag with some protruding feet. 'Your mum made that for you,' Molly said. When I quizzed her further she added, 'Didn't you know your mum would get home from work at 8 pm, she'd bathe and put you to bed and then she'd start making your clothes?' Finding Molly in those last months of her life gave me a whole new understanding of what it meant for my mother to raise me as a single parent while ascending to the top of her career. You will have noticed, Mum, since Molly told me that story that I no longer chastise you for not knowing how to make fairy bread.

But the story of my parenting would not be complete without my other 'parents' on the other side of the world, where, as a schoolgirl, mum sent me in stonewash jeans and an impossibly new and unquestionably ridiculous Akubra hat to live with a family in rural France. My French 'parents', Guy and Ginette Allard—profoundly socialist, schoolteachers in science, alpinists, scuba divers, cross-country skiers, cave explorers and overall planetary adventurers—gave me new eyes through which to see life. With my French 'sister', Catherine, and 'brother', Julien, they taught me what it means to be part of a family—training which came in handy when I landed in my own instant family when Rodrigo, Estela, Rafael and Gabriel came into my life.

Guy and Ginette can't be here with us today, but they are represented by my dear friend Francois Romanet, who recently walked up their cobbled driveway in their tiny village in Ardeche to check in and tell them how much I miss them and wished they could be here today. Et pour ca, je te remercie de tout mon coeur mon cher ami, Francois.

In preparation for this moment I looked back over previous maiden speeches to see how the great men of Flinders who precede me approached their first words in this place. They all captured a moment in Australia's history and the spirit of the good folk of Flinders. While it is unfair to summarise those contributions in a sentence or two, I will.

I was taken with Greg Hunt's love letter for the people of Flinders with whom he grew up; Peter Reith's plea for an easier life for those whose industriousness he saw as frustrated by unnecessary red tape; and, indeed, Bob Chynoweth's forecast of the Cold War cascading into nuclear conflict and his fear of 'the decaying and rotting corpses' across the beautiful countryside of Flinders. Phillip Lynch, who came to this place in 1966, described his time as 'an age of revolutionary change, rapid, radical and cumulative, in which the rate of change itself has accelerated faster than men had ever dreamed possible'. I cannot help but see my generation of parliamentarians perched above a similar precipice of accelerated change for the reasons I will go on to explain.

Like my predecessors, I am focused on the times in which we live. The COVID-19 pandemic has thrown much of life in Flinders into chaos. Our businesses are crying out for staff, our supply chains are frustrated and our children have missed the better part of two years of their education. As in the city, many of our local businesses are in mutation, and no-one knows what the workplace will look like when the pandemic music finally stops.

I come to this place as a former industrial relations lawyer. While I haven't practised for a while, I do know that trying to shoehorn today's workplaces into a 1983 framework is not the approach we need now. For some time I have been watching a new Labor government laud the ways of the past—facilitating heavy-handed union input into IR reform, even though that movement represents no more than 15 per cent of Australia's workers today, as opposed to 50 per cent in the 1980s.

The recent push to provide paid leave for casual staff at both state and federal levels will weigh heavily on the shoulders of small business in my electorate, many of whom have been keeping their doors open by increasing the home mortgage and putting the family to work. The reintroduction of pattern bargaining—or multi-employer bargaining, as we're now supposed to call it—suggests a rapid return to the industrial wars of my childhood: weeks and months of strikes, costing billions of dollars for business.

My party's own efforts to modernise the industrial relations system have failed in recent years. Our party room is now surprisingly short on IR lawyers and practitioners, but Australia's business community, particularly its small-business community, needs us to step up and fight for common sense, especially as concerns the digital economy. The modern and rapidly evolving Australian economy requires a flexible workplace, and those who work in it highly value choice and independence.

In an excellent piece of work undertaken in 2019 by AlphaBeta, led at the time by my classmate the member for Parramatta, the need for regulatory freedom was highlit. The report said:

Around 1.2 million Australians want more flexible work … Many of these people are juggling study, parenting or caring responsibilities. Others may have side-businesses, health constraints, second jobs or travel plans. All of these workers value flexibility; many could not work without it.

AlphaBeta put it simply: 'The modern workforce wants more flexibility, not less.' It is important to remember that this report was completed before the pandemic which demonstrated to us all just how flexible and digitally facilitated work can be.

Our current IR system is no longer fit for purpose, neither for the nature of modern work nor for the way our current or future generations want to work. The increasingly digitally native workforce want many careers, sometimes at the same time, to suit their ambitions for travel, hobbies, rest, wellness and family. This parliament should be concerned with ensuring minimum standards, a safety net, for such adaptable work, rather than trying to stifle it with heavy-handed prescription and the straitjacket of one-size-fits-all pattern bargaining.

Our future workplaces will be manned by an increasingly digital generation. As my much-loved but overly interrogated stepchildren will tell you, I am obsessed with the differences between their digital generation that has grown up with a smartphone beside the stroller and my generation, so imbued with deferred gratification. After all, it was a seven-day wait between episodes of Countdown. My kids' generation is intrinsically digital. Their social lives are lived online, their activities are scheduled online, their next shift at the local cafe is rostered and remunerated online, footy and rugby is watched online, their Friday dinner is ordered online and their homework is communicated and corrected online. Their access to information is limitless. The world's knowledge sits at the edge of the keyboard in their back pocket. In physical terms, their digital life is one of relative safety. They are injured less. They get drunk and smoke cigarettes less. They fall pregnant as teenagers less. They are careful drivers—that is, if they ever get their drivers licence.

The 262 days of lockdown in metro Melbourne, in which the Mornington Peninsula found itself bafflingly included, further embedded their generation's relationship with screens, social media and other online content. Whatever systems our households had in place to balance online time with offline time in the form of study, sports, sleep or social activity collapsed during the COVID-19 pandemic. Worse still, the school system became the dealer of the digital drug, putting laptops and tablets into every lounge or bedroom.

This may seem a strange digression from someone who spent the last three years as the director of the NBN; however, I was the only parent of teenage children within the board and, as such, I viewed the product through fundamentally different eyes. Like so many women of my age, my lockdown fantasy was not a trip to Fiji but a broadband service which prioritised the download speed to my work devices and throttled the datapipe to my children's devices and their daily diet of YouTube, Netflix, Disney+, Snapchat, Instagram and TikTok. We could not live without technology. We will not progress without technology. I could not give this speech without technology. But, increasingly, data shows us that today's adolescents, 24/7 connected to devices, addled by algorithms and autoplay, are showing signs of stress and, indeed, in some cases, distress. Self-control difficulties, impulsivity, family conflict, sleep disturbance, inactivity, concentration impairment and poor language development are often observed among those children whose technology use is above the recommended two hours a day. Of highest concern is the well-documented epidemic of anxiety and depression in teenage girls, which we know correlates with high use of social media.

OECD analysis reveals the vast majority of boys and almost half of our girls only read if they have to. In 2018 nearly 40 per cent of boys admitted, 'For me, reading is a waste of time.' A study conducted by the University of Melbourne last year found lockdown dislodged books in favour of devices, especially among teenage boys, so our reading and literacy results in the OECD's Programme for International Student Assessment, PISA, are likely to be worse next year, not better, despite record spending on education at federal and state levels. Everyone here should be concerned for a generation which will one day take its place on these green leather benches without having read The Lord of the Flies, 1984, If This is a Man and To Kill a Mockingbird.

Outside this place, we should be even more concerned by a generation a quarter of whom will be insufficiently literate to participate effectively and productively in life by 2030, according to Learning First. We are charged with making public policy to suit the needs and capabilities of this deeply digital generation. We must ensure technology contributes to their fitness for life, not detracts from it. We must help parents who are parenting in digital darkness. We must help educators understand how to support children and adolescents as they engage with the ever-increasing array of highly stimulating devices and social platforms.

In this parliament, I will work with technology companies, designers and educators to ensure these tools and innovations can be applied to help young people become productive and purposeful, independent and critical thinkers, and lead contributive lives, sustaining and building the prosperous nation which we have the good fortune to call home.

On my journey to this spot, I have so many people to thank. I have worked with many great Liberal minds in this place who have shown me:

There is no limit to what a man can do or where he can go if he does not mind who gets the credit.

I thank those I have worked with in this place in another time, especially George Brandis, Andrew Robb and Brendan Nelson, from whom I have learnt so much about friendship and leadership in this place. I express my deep gratitude to those who have been a source of good judgement, guidance and inspiration over many years, to whom I owe so much: Mathias Cormann and Greg Hunt.

I thank my friends who serve or have served on the opposite side of this chamber, who have helped me to see and appreciate their priorities and their world view and have remained my friend even though I steadfastly hope, for the sake of the nation, that you lose all future elections!

I am grateful for the unrestrained good advice of Senator James Paterson, Senator Jane Hume, Tony Nutt, Andrew Hirst, Mark Textor, Justine Sywak, Simon Berger, Michael Kapel, Aldo Borgu and, of course, David Luff. I thank Deb Kwasnicki, Kate Fielding, Anna Campbell, Perry Sperling and Sue Robertson for their towering lioness wisdom and golden friendship through life.

I am in awe of the best campaign team a candidate could ever have, led by the Great Georgie Silverwood, together with James Radford, Julia Doyle, Andrew Barrett, Kathy Casey, Marshall Grande, Jan Hazell and Tom Burgess. They were complemented by the technical expertise of David Kitchen and the formidable fundraising team of Will Morgan and Lucy and Emma Nicholson. To them, together with the members and supporters of the Liberal Party in Flinders, led by my friend Martin Dixon, I attribute much of our outcome achieving an improved margin against a ferocious tide.

I thank our donors, those who believe in us and our potential to shape this nation, from the most generous to the person who gave me $5. She was so furious my campaign car had been defaced with foul graffiti and she thought it might help. It may not have covered the costs of cleaning the car, but by golly she made a huge deposit in my faith in humanity.

But above all, I say thank you to the most remarkable and brilliant man I know, Rodrigo Pintos-Lopez. A magnificent strategic mind, more importantly, Rodrigo is my co-adventurer in life, my best friend above and below the water, the person who has taught me to see my country and my contribution to it through different eyes and who, above everyone else, put me here by knowing me better than I know myself, believing in me when I was exhausted and standing beside me throughout it. Te quiero Guapo, hasta el cielo.

I thank the House for its indulgence.