Jane Hume (Victoria, Liberal Party, Shadow Minister for the Public Service) Share this | Hansard source

Today the chamber pays its respects to a lion of the Liberal Party in Tony Staley. I am both sad and very proud to stand here today to mark, on the indelible record of Hansard, a tribute to his life. But I have a confession to make before I do: I am hopelessly biased because Tony Staley was my 'Tuesdays with Morrie' guy. That is a rather crass referral to an airport novel that's rather unfit for a man so well versed in the classics, but, indeed, it is the best description I could come up with.

I met Tony eight or nine years ago at a group dinner, knowing only the legend of him. He inadvertently left that dinner early without paying his bill. To avoid embarrassment, I picked up the cheque for him and quietly covered his share, but clearly somebody knew, because about a fortnight later he called me and asked me to lunch to thank me. I went to lunch, and we hit it off and we've been having regular lunches ever since then. At first, it was always the same. It was at the Bamboo House, and we had Peking duck at his regular table. When he moved into an aged-care facility about three years ago—his mind still very sharp, just his body giving way—I would bring the takeaway Peking duck to him. It was over these lunches that I got to know a truly great man; a man of extraordinary achievement; a man of love for his family and passion for poetry, of charm and erudition; a man of strength of will and determination in the face of adversity; a man of character and patriotism and a commitment to service; a man with a cheeky sense of humour and a healthy sense of the ridiculous; and a man of enormous conviction and deep humanity. He brought all of these things to his life and to his politics. I took great joy in learning from him and about him.

His life was one that was well lived—a race well run from the start. He was born in Horsham and educated in Melbourne, and he went on to Melbourne university, where things could have gone in a very, very different direction. It wasn't until his funeral that I realised—because much was said about it—his original plans were to in fact join the church. But it was not to be. Apparently, two days into a theology degree, he told the Reverend Davis McCaughey that he had come to the conclusion that man created God and not the other way around. Needless to say, law and politics were clearly a better fit.

One of Tony's childhood friends was Sam Holt, and Sam spoke so beautifully and eloquently, and with such affection, at Tony's funeral. One can only imagine just how profound the effect of the disappearance of Sam's father, Prime Minister Harold Holt, at the Portsea Back Beach was to be on both men, as well as on the psyche of a nation—because just three years later, at the age of 31, Tony Staley won the seat of Chisholm in a by-election and increased the Liberal Party's primary vote. He went on to serve in the many capacities that have already been spoken about, most notably as Minister for the Capital Territory and Minister for Post and Telecommunications.

It was in this particular role that Tony took his Liberal values to the airwaves. Through the reforms that he introduced to our broadcasting legislation, he provided the basis for local and community-focused radio stations through the establishment of new broadcasting stations. In introducing the changes, he told the parliament:

… the main reason for setting up new broadcasting stations is to provide better programs. The Government sees public broadcasting as a force for diversity. Its role is to provide Australians with a range of choices which the national and commercial sectors are not able to provide.

He was also the minister when the long-held ambition of the SBS came to be a reality.

These are extraordinary achievements in themselves. But Tony Staley was not a minister that was only delivering changes in order to receive accolades or create announceables. In his time in parliament Tony Staley was central—he was instrumental—in the rise of Malcolm Fraser as leader and the downfall of the Whitlam government and the Dismissal.

Unbelievably, after an extraordinary career, he left parliament by choice after 10 years at the age of 41. I once asked him why he chose to leave politics at such a young age at the height of his political influence. 'You could have become leader,' I said to him. He said back to me in his deep melodious voice—one that usually quoted poetry or said words that I later had to look up in a dictionary—in that beautiful rich timbre: 'Jane, I just wasn't enough of a'—and for the sake of Hansard I won't reveal that final word, but I will say that I responded, 'Tony, that's not what I've heard.'

As a member of this parliament he served a brief but still very remarkable period. It was made even more remarkable for the fact that this was not the culmination of his contribution to public life but just the beginning of it. Reflecting on some of the harder moments he faced and difficult decisions he confronted in public life, he turned to poetry as his source of courage. An oft quoted favourite was Australian poet James McAuley—a warrior for his beliefs, according to Tony. His musings on the human condition contrasted by the value of lived conviction was indeed a compelling theme. Tony said it was a McAuley poem entitled Liberal or innocent by definition that helped him to decide to resign his shadow ministry and begin the campaign to elect Malcolm Fraser as leader. In it McAuley calls out the empty life of the virtuous neutral without beliefs or the courage to commit to them—'Unbiased between good and evil they can never be convicted. They have no record of convictions.' I just love that.

Following parliament, Tony's convictions were lived, not forgotten. He was the president of the Public Broadcasting Foundation and attended the Community Broadcasting Association of Australia's conference for over 40 years. As a result, the Community Broadcasting Association of Australia honours community broadcasting organisations or programs that actively promote the values of community broadcasting with the Tony Staley Award. When he was asked what community radio meant to him he responded, 'The voice of the people.' This is typical of how Tony lived his time beyond politics—the continued pursuit of those values and projects that in public life he believed in. Convictions for Tony were never performative.

When the Liberal Party was facing the 10th year of Labor in power in Canberra, despite his permanent and profound injury from a car accident three years earlier Tony Staley put himself forward to serve his party again as federal president. This wasn't an easy decision. He had to defeat Malcolm Fraser, the man he had campaigned for the Liberal leadership 20 years prior. But, having beaten his former leader and Prime Minister, he didn't rest.

No-one was left wondering whether he would be an active and activist party president when he took the step to remove his support from John Hewson as leader. Together with Andrew Rob, Graham Morris, Ron Walker and Mark Texta, Tony Staley devoted his time to rebuilding the Liberal Party's machinery and movement. That dedication delivered victory for the first time in 13 years and the election of John Howard in 1996. The work that Tony and others had undertaken established the foundation for electoral success over the next decade and beyond.

For those of us who may have been too young to be in Canberra for the Whitlam dismissal but had the privilege of knowing Tony later in life, he was always gracious and always generous with his wit and with his wisdom. Those regular lunches—first at the Bamboo House and later by his bedside—we are very important to me. They were a source of inspiration. They gave me perspective. They gave me context. Tony gave me advice and encouragement. In him I found someone I could trust completely. He saw my potential, pushed me to be braver and wished me nothing but good things—a rare thing, indeed, in this game.

I loved the stories of his family, who he loved so desperately. Stories came thick and fast from his time in politics and the characters that he knew on both sides of the political divide. Some were fantastical, but they were all true. At his funeral I heard one that I hadn't heard before. It was told by one of his five adored children. Apparently in the early 1980s Tony was sitting on a plane and found himself next to Wendy Wier, the wife and collaborator of film director Peter Weir. Somehow, as most conversations with Tony go, a poem was quoted, this one by Tasmanian poet Gwen Harwood. So taken with the poem was Wendy Weir that she asked Tony to write it down on a Qantas napkin. A few years later, Tony received a phone call from Peter Weir, letting him know that the poem was a source of inspiration for his new film that was about to be released, Dead Poets Society. Apparently the director gave each of the young actors a copy of Gwen Harwood's poem in a frame at the conclusion of filming. That frame can still be seen on the wall behind Ethan Hawke in interviews and documentaries.

I found out that Tony was unwell and only had a short time to live via a text message written on his behalf by his son Sam. Even his texts, even when dictated to somebody else, were poetic. Among other things, he said that he faced death with no fear whatsoever and greatly supported by his beautiful family and friends. He said he counted me as one of those and hoped I would give us a better world.

I wouldn't let him get away with that. I went to visit him the next day. Sure enough, there he was, still holding court, surrounded by family, talking about—very matter-of-factly—his funeral: who would do the eulogy, which hymns would be sung and where it would be held. I suggested to him that there would need to be space for his many friends and admirers. 'Definitely not St Paul's,' he said, 'Too small for a cathedral, too large for a church.' His funeral at St John's was one of the loveliest I have ever been to: full of family, full of friends, full of love, full of admiration and full of gratitude.

Tony's life will not be judged as being unbiased. He wasn't a fence-sitter. He wasn't a bystander. It was a public life with conviction, and for many neutral observers that might have pushed him between the columns of good and evil. But he was never deterred. He was all in, feet first. Just as the Dead Poets Society quoted Thoreau, Tony Staley wished to live life deliberately. As parliamentarians reflecting on a former servant, we can only hope to deliver on our beliefs to the extent of Tony Staley.

For some of us, our time here will be the conclusion of our public service and the beginning of a return to a life that is more private and more personal. Tony's convictions burned too bright for that. His love for life and for those around him and his devotion to service of his nation will forever be an inspiration to me, as they should be to us all. I will miss our lunches. I will miss sharing Peking duck. I will miss my friend. Vale Tony Staley, go well and God bless.