Linda White (Victoria, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Hansard source

Thank you, President. I acknowledge the Ngunnawal and Ngambri people, who have called this place home for tens of thousands of years. I acknowledge their unbroken connection to this land and give my deep respect to community members and elders past, present and emerging. Sovereignty was never ceded. I am immensely proud to be a part of a government that is seeking to change the Constitution to create a First Nations Voice to Parliament.

Getting justice for people has dominated my working life. How that happened and why it happened goes to a series of experiences, decisions and opportunities, some within my control and some not, which have determined the life I have led to date. Like many people, there were things I could not change or affect, and sometimes there were sliding-door moments when my values or history guided me down a particular road or took me to places I could never have imagined. For some people, their pathway in life is determined by the circumstances of their birth. Governments, however, have the power to open up new choices and opportunities that would otherwise remain out of reach. The power we have in this place to change lives is significant. For many this power came into sharp focus during our COVID years, but the reality is that this power is there all the time. Not a day will go by here when I won't reflect on the consequences of our actions for those we represent.

I've had the responsibility for the wellbeing of others before, as a union delegate, as a lawyer and as an elected union official, but the responsibilities we have here are definitely next level. As a union official, there is nothing as bad as finding out that 4½ thousand of your members have lost their jobs in the one day. Twenty-one years ago, next week, 16,000 Australians at Ansett lost their jobs and a further 60,000 in companies that relied on Ansett lost theirs. It remains one of the biggest corporate collapses in Australia's history. The social and economic harm it caused is beyond words. Suicides, marriage breakdowns, the loss of homes and security—the Ansett collapse broke many people. It was a brutal reminder that markets don't prioritise the wellbeing of workers. That is not their purpose and never has been. They are vehicles to create wealth, not ensure justice. It was a lesson in how decisions a government makes not to intervene also change lives. I will never forget the cruelty inherent in the Howard government's response at that time. It was left to union members to take up the fight for these Australians, and that's what we did. We won back nearly all of the $760 million owing to the Ansett workers. It took 10 years, but we got there. The resilience, bravery, leadership and collective action of the ASU's Ansett members in the midst of adversity made this possible and remain an inspiration to this day.

As I see it, one of our main jobs here in parliament is to make all forms of justice less dependent on money, connections and class. When I say 'justice', I don't mean legal representation in a courtroom but the broader notion of social and economic justice, which is the measure we should test the outcomes of our policies against, whether it be in education, health, workplace laws or intervention in markets. This is difficult to achieve at the best of times, but now trust in governments, politics and politicians is at a low point. One of the hardest jobs that the Albanese government has ahead is to show people what governing in the public interest looks like. The creation of a national anticorruption commission will be an important part of what I see as a new compact with the Australian people. There is more to do beyond that, but it is a good start.

I learnt about workplace justice pretty early on. Like many students, I worked at McDonald's to pay my way through uni. It was there I first felt the power of union organising and collective action. Our franchise was being bought back by the parent company, which had a reputation for not offering shifts to casual adult workers. I was 20 years old. Someone—not me—organised a clandestine night meeting in their home in downtown Camberwell with a union organiser from what is now the United Workers Union. We all joined the union that night and, I don't know how, I became the delegate. I didn't really understand what a delegate was but soon realised that it meant collecting union dues in cash and sending them to the union, talking to my workmates and, of course, dealing with management. We had little to lose, so our union membership was no secret. In the end, we kept our jobs longer than we would have otherwise, but the expensive staff like me were eventually rostered off. It was an early lesson about insecure work and the perils of casualisation. I also learnt that you don't always win, and winning doesn't always look the way you thought it would, but being brave and standing up for your rights is always important. I felt the power of collectivism for the first time, and it has been my driving force ever since.

The experience at McDonald's made we want to work for a union, but despite my significant experience in remitting union fees I couldn't quite land a union job. It turned out to be easier to become an articled clerk at one of Australia's premier Labor law firms than to get a job at a union.

I had a dream run as an articled clerk at Maurice Blackburn and Co. My first day was instructing two top barristers on a manslaughter trial, and that was followed by many more interesting criminal trials. I was hooked. My strike rate for acquittals was far higher than in the legal system generally. Maybe I just represented a disproportionate number of innocent clients, or maybe the fact that my clients had the money to pay for top-dollar legal representation had something to do with it. Whilst we are all equal before the law, justice comes at a cost, and results are all too often related to the quality of the representation you can afford.

Maurice Blackburn also brought me into contact with people during the hardest times of their lives. I am forever grateful to the many dedicated lawyers who shared their knowledge and impressed on me the need to listen and understand what is going on for clients, both legally and personally. Learning how to give people straight advice about their prospects has held me in good stead ever since.

Near the end of my time at Blackburn, my focus was on acting for people who had been sexually assaulted by members of the clergy. Countless people came forward and shared their stories with me. Some had never told their families and loved ones of their experiences. I was honoured to have had this trust. Now that I'm in this place, I look forward to seeing the National Redress Scheme in operation, while also recognising that full redress is just not possible. Money can never give a kid their childhood back or undo their trauma.

Working at Blackburn allowed me to practice my newfound union organising skills. I recruited around 70 new members to the union in the then un-unionised workplace. A couple of the foundation members, George Georgiou and Sabine Wakefield, are here today. I treasure the fun and friendship we have shared both at and since leaving Blackburn. A shout-out, too, to your partners, Julie Spring and Lindsay Wakefield, who are also great friends.

Unsurprisingly, my organising success brought me to the attention of Lindsay Tanner, who was in the process of changing the course of the Federated Clerks Union, now known as the Australian Services Union. I joined the Tanner team and was elected to state council. I became heavily involved as a rank-and-file member. I was someone who could be relied on to show up when needed. That was when my political education really began. My wrangler back then was David Leydon, who became a very dear friend and who is one of the most committed unionists I know.

After a decade of working in a law firm, I finally got that union job and joined the Victorian Clerical and Administrative Branch of the ASU. This move gave me the chance to work with three of the best union leaders I have known: Gaye Yuille, Martin Foley and Ingrid Stitt. These are three people I would always want beside me in a fight. Gaye has been a mentor to many women and taught me that if you are a successful woman you have a duty to bring other women along with you—something I try to do as often as I can, because if I don't do it, who will?

With the support of Gaye, Martin, Chris Woods, John Gazzola and Anne McEwen, a year later I moved to the ASU National Office as Assistant National Secretary. My work with the ASU has given me an up-close and personal view of corporate Australia. I've met CEOs and chairs and heard them explain how they operate and, more importantly, how they see the people who work for them. I've campaigned alongside thousands of ASU members and delegates during those years. I've also seen how work has been changing. These changes—casualisation, outsourcing, the growth of the gig economy and the constant political attacks that undermine pay, conditions and the ability to collectively bargain—remain.

Industrial relations is not a 'fair fight', and any new laws must take this uneven power balance into account. Workers are not just a line item on a balance sheet. They are partners in the success of a business and deserve to be treated as such. I was in the fight against Work Choices, just as I've been against many other ideological attacks on workers, their families and the nation over the years. We didn't always win, but we lived to fight another day.

I want to recognise the Australian Council of Trade Unions and its affiliated unions. All strength to your arms, Sally and Michele! The movement could not have two better leaders at this important time. I've already mentioned a number of people who worked with me at the ASU and in my union career, but can I also thank Emeline Gaske, Imogen Sturni, Abbie Spencer, Scott Cowen, Joseph Scales, Julie Bignell, Irene Monro, Jo Justo, Gillian Strong, Fouzia Aden and Jody Miles. We did some amazing work together, and you always made me look good.

One of the wins I will always hold dear is the 2012 equal pay case for over 200,000 non-government social and community services workers across Australia. It took a relentless campaign from union members and officials who lobbied the then Labor government without mercy, standing strong behind the dignity of women's work. My current Senate leader, then finance minister, was one of those who bore the brunt of that lobbying. Our disagreements were more about style than substance, and it is my hope that all has been forgiven. We won pay rises of between 27 and 43 per cent plus safety net increases delivered over eight years. It took over six years of continuous campaigning, a change in the equal pay laws and a long and detailed Fair Work Commission case to get that result. It shouldn't have taken that much time and that much work, but it did. Still, the reality is it wouldn't have happened at all without the support of federal and state Labor governments. The equal pay case predominantly changed the lives of women workers in the community sector forever. Some extremely underpaid people saw increases of $700 per week. That case narrowed for gender pay gap, but shamefully it is the only case that has ever been won federally. The commitment of this government to address the pay gap and the value of women's work is something I want to be a part of. Australian women deserve no less.

Superannuation is yet another area where women get a raw deal. The gap between the retirement savings of women and men is greater than the gender pay gap. Australians' retirement savings have too long been an ideological plaything of the government, unconcerned about real outcomes for women and more about who is on the board of an industry super fund. Instead of focusing on making super work for women and others who need it in retirement, opponents of superannuation constantly tried to undermine our system. Superannuation, which provides dignity in retirement for people who have worked hard their whole lives, should be above petty partisan politics.

For many of us, our families set our values and shape our lives from the start. Mine was a small family from the beginning, but now it's only me, my dear brother, Michael, and Michael's wife, Julie. I want to acknowledge the support Michael and Julie have given me over some difficult times. Michael and I often discuss politics and world affairs and occasionally motorsport. As voters in a marginal seat, your opinion and views not only influence my thoughts; your vote also has, on occasion, determined government, including in the last election. Thank you for being my very own marginal seat focus group.

Neither of my parents, John and Freida, went to university. It wasn't even a consideration for my smart parents, who worked incredibly hard all their lives. They believed strongly in public education; Michael and I were the first in our family to go to university. Both my parents left school and started work at the age of 16; my mother in clerical work and my father as a delivery boy for the company Gestetner. He worked there his whole life and eventually became managing director. One of my first memories is of my mother on the parents' committee of my kindergarten. Over their lives, my parents got involved in the golf club, the arial motorbike club, Rotary, Probus, and even the calligraphy society, being office bearers, writing newsletters and talking to people. That was our home life, getting involved.

Knowingly and unconsciously, I follow that example. At Melbourne uni I was a member of the law students society, the commerce students society, the symphony orchestra, the uni revue, the netball club and probably many more things. It's amazing I had time to study! Since being elected to the Senate, I have had congratulatory messages from people from those days, which is surely a testament to getting involved. My involvement with boards and committees has committed throughout my life, right up until my election to the Senate. I have loved learning about community and public institutions and their work along the way. Needless to say, I've spent many, many, many hours on Labor Party committees—those stories I will save for my memoirs.

My paternal grandfather, grandmother, aunt and mother came to Australia in the 1930s to give their family a better future. My grandfather was a skilled glass blower. Despite this economic contribution, the family were interned during World War II. My paternal grandparents lived and worked in Marrickville, and life for them was often difficult. Neither set of grandparents owned their own homes. They hoped that their hard work would give their children a chance to own their own homes, and it did. Sadly, housing affordability is far worse now than it was then. Working hard doesn't guarantee you will ever be able to afford a house—another critical policy area to work on in this place.

I am forever grateful that my parents introduced us to the arts. From a very young age I went to live theatre, to galleries and to exhibitions like the Archibald prize. I had the chance to learn the viola at school, which was a smart choice as it turns out. There was always a place for a second-rate player like me in orchestras. Violinists are a dime a dozen and have a much harder time getting a gig! It didn't really hit home that the exposure to the arts I had as child did not happen for everyone until I was on the board of the Australian Centre for the Moving Image. Like many public arts organisations, ACMI runs programs for schools. One program provides fully subsidised travel for children from Melbourne's west to come to the museum. Many of the kids had never been to the city before, let alone to a museum. The delight, wonder and surprise of discovering a new world of possibilities at institutions like ACMI is an experience no child should miss out on.

That is the power of the arts and the creative process. The arts let us delve into other worlds and see ourselves and our society reflected back, for better or worse. They allow us to imagine new possibilities and better ways of doing things. People like to talk about the economic value of the arts, but their true value goes far beyond dollars and cents. Artists and creative professionals are talented, clever and possess the power to impact lives through their skill. I stand in awe of the things they do. I am proud that in Victoria we have led the nation in recognising the power of our creative industries. I am very glad that, after nearly a decade, we have an arts minister, in Tony Burke, who takes these things seriously. Getting cultural policy right changes how we come to know ourselves, how we come to know others and how the world comes to know Australia

Before I conclude I want to pay tribute to my predecessor Senator Kim Carr, a titan of the left in Victoria whose contribution both as a minister and as a senator has been widely recognised. It is fair to say many are looking forward to his forthcoming book—not all with trepidation. I also pay tribute to Senator Kimberley Kitching, who was taken from us far too early.

It is worth reflecting briefly on the fact that I have had a long career before joining this parliament. I like to say that you are never too old to learn new things and that there are opportunities in everything. You never know where that road you choose might lead. Occasionally it leads you to the Senate! I thank Lisa Darmanin and the mighty ASU, Alan Griffin, Mat Hilakari, Matt Norrey, Jo Briskey and the United Workers Union, Susie Byers and Tim Ayres for their support of my latest career step. Margaret Beattie and Greg Peacock: your enthusiasm for this new adventure was also very important to me. To Gavin Jennings: thanks for your support and wise council over many years. Thanks to the many people who have come from Melbourne to watch my speech, in particular the members of my book club. Our discussions, no doubt, will continue to be a mixture of politics and literature.

I would like to thank Prime Minister Anthony Albanese for many years of friendship and support. It is an honour to be part of the team. I also acknowledge my new staff team, Mark, Ben, Ekta and Jess, for all their hard work in establishing the office. It is my hope that together we will achieve a lot and have a bit of fun on the way. Finally, thank you Marita and Rachel for the pre-speech start treatment!

I am not here to make my name or build my career. I am immensely proud of the battles I have fought, the things I have achieved and the comrades I have made. That is not to say that I don't have anything to prove. One promise I can make is that no-one here will die wondering what I think. People will always know where I stand, and already know that I'm not afraid of saying what's on my mind. I am not about to change the habits of a lifetime. Just as I have in other arenas, I will fearlessly and, some may say, relentlessly pursue action that will make our national community and the state of Victoria a better place for all of us.

Australian democracy is more fragile than we realise. It has suffered damage in recent years, and I think everyone in this parliament has an important role in restoring the public's trust in the political process. We must remain able to consider turning points in our thinking. We might not agree with each other or those who are advocating to us, but not listening is always a mistake. In lobbying training, I always told our ASU members to remember that the politicians they meet are no better than they are and that they know far more about their own issues than the politicians they are meeting do. I still believe this and will not forget that advice. I'm pretty sure, though, that there are a few people here in the gallery who wouldn't let me forget if I tried, anyway!

There's no doubt in my mind that governments change lives, that strong progressive Labor governments change them for the better. But sometimes governments need a helping hand to stay on track. As I often say, sometimes we need someone else to show us our best selves. In thinking about how to conclude this speech I thought of my mother and her love of jigsaw puzzles that covered our dining room table at home, sometimes for weeks on end. In many ways my career has been like a series of jigsaw puzzles, each more complex than the last but building on the skills learnt before to reveal a new picture each time. This may or may not prove to be the hardest puzzle I attempt in my career, but the level of complexity and the picture of a fairer and more just nation that I hope to reveal is a challenge that I'm very much looking forward to tackling head-on, always alongside my colleagues, comrades and the community. I thank the Senate.