PARLIAMENTARY REPRESENTATION

Senator DUNIAM (Tasmania—Manager of Opposition Business in the Senate) (17:01): Well, thank you, President. What a segue! It's always a big job to follow Senator McGrath—what can I say—but what a wonderful introduction.

Ten years, one month and 13 days ago, I stood not here in this place but somewhere over there and I delivered my first speech to the Senate. In that first speech, I finished up by quoting my late grandmother, a former Labor candidate—and of course everyone has their flaws! She was a super mum and also Burnie councillor, Iris Graham OAM, whose motto for life was 'deeds, not words'.

For the last 10 years, that expression has stayed with me and has been a guide on how I hoped to conduct myself as a senator for the state of Tasmania. And, while of course it will be for others to judge—and I'm sure they will—whether or not I've done that, I can say today that I've actually given this job everything I have. Nonetheless, it seems only fair that the words of my grandmother that she lived by should be the test against which I am judged.

I should point out that, in preparing for today and looking back at my first speech those years ago, it was clear to me just how very little I knew about life on the day I arrived, how ill-prepared I was for what awaited me. Still, as I reflected, I think my north star was right and my hopes for my country and the people I was going to represent remained the right ones.

In trying to sum up my time in this place and bring it to an end, I'm not sure my words will ever adequately cover the many reflections, the thoughts and feelings I have as I prepare to leave. To represent one's fellow Australians in this place is a serious role, and it is truly the honour of a lifetime. If you take it seriously, it in turn will take most of you.

And that is indeed what actually puts a use-by date on this job. When a new senator arrives, you never know what to expect—what challenges you'll confront, what opportunities will present themselves, how difficult some days will be or, indeed, how satisfying it is when you get things done for your community. Indeed, when I arrived 10 years ago, I could not have predicted the twists and turns or the challenges our country would face during my time here.

I should have known, though, because when I came in I came in as part of that upheaval that was the double dissolution election. I should have known right then that nothing was going to be straightforward. It was only about a year later that, of course, we had the massive change through our parliament as a result of the constitutional and citizenship crisis that turned our parliament on its head.

We then had the seismic events of COVID that changed how we lived and how our country functioned. Some of the scars of that time I don't think many Australians will ever heal from. Indeed, along this journey there have been challenges we face globally, including conflict overseas and international economic challenges that we can't hide from, no matter how well insulated we think we are.

There of course has also been the odd leadership change too, just in case anyone was bored with Australian politics at any given point; they certainly do spice things up! I, for one, can't forget the events of the end of last year, when 15 innocent people lost their lives simply because of who they were. The road that led to those events and the pain felt since that time—the most significant terror attack on our shores in our nation's history—has left a mark on our nation forever.

All of this has been against the backdrop of a media landscape that is very different to how it was when I arrived. At an ever-increasing pace, we have a vociferously hungry press gallery needing updates and answers to questions 24 hours a day. While I've enjoyed having my weekends interrupted by my friends in the press gallery, I'm not so sure I'm going to miss your Sunday morning calls anymore.

Social media, too, has become a hungry beast that needs to be fed lest the void be filled by others who may not share your views or interests. Challenge and change have been a hallmark of recent times in Australian politics, like never before, and how we handle these tests is how we will be judged. Right now, the challenges that face us are many and varied, and it doesn't matter where you sit on the political spectrum; there is generally an acceptance of what the problems are.

The difference comes in how we respond, which, in our adversarial parliamentary system, is what writes our political epitaph. I've long said that there are three parts to being a politician: (1) travel, which sucks, (2) politics, and I don't mean the good kind, and (3) being a problem-solver, which I think is the best part of the job. The most important role any of us will ever have, no matter where we actually sit in this chamber, is that of problem-solver—perhaps for an individual constituent, a community group, a part of the economy or maybe the entire nation.

Sometimes I think that role does get lost in the work that we do here, but it's important to remind ourselves of that essential anchor in elected life. I've had the tremendous blessing of being appointed to various leadership, ministerial and shadow ministerial roles over my decade here, and I do thank the leaders of my party for entrusting me with these roles over time.

I certainly did become a jack-of-all-trades while I was here, whether it was forestry, fisheries, tourism, industry development, education and early learning, Home Affairs or immigration. All those different portfolios always required the same discipline and the same KPI: understand your portfolio, identify the problems, find a solution, communicate it to the electorate and hope it translates into trust.

Then, hopefully, people will cast a vote for you and your party. While I've prided myself on my own work ethic and on abiding by those rules, that pattern has obviously only worked to a limited degree, given I find myself in opposition. I'm not going to rattle off a mundane list of things I've done or policies or projects I've been a part of delivering; they stand for themselves.

But I do want to thank the hundreds, maybe thousands, of amazing Australians I've met, over time, who've driven change and innovation and were the inspiration behind the projects that I've supported. Not wasting time and getting the most out of the time we have here, which is limited for all of us, is paramount. Indeed, right up until my last day, I've been making the most of the time I have.

Last week, I was proud to be a part of the work led by Angus Taylor on the coalition's immigration policy. While not everyone will agree with our approach or the intended outcome, I'm proud of the work and the professional, robust policy that the opposition has put forward. The problem our country is facing is patently clear, and now we've offered our solution for Australians to consider ahead of the next election.

Earlier, I mentioned the unexpected nature of the challenges and opportunities we confront over time. As my time as a member of this parliament draws to a close, we are presented with one of the most capacious opportunities I believe we will see in our lifetimes, and that is the rise and proliferation of artificial intelligence. It is coming whether we like it or not, and, to some extent, it is already here.

The choice we have is whether we take the opportunity that AI is presenting on our terms or have those terms dictated to us. It is my ardent belief that we as a nation must chart our course this year—lay down the rules, structures, policies and arrangements to facilitate the best possible outcome for AI take-up in our country. The work I've been able to help lead on the multipartisan committee examining AI has provided a blueprint for us to follow, and I want to thank the Prime Minister's Office for spellchecking my work and for leaving track changes on.

I'm also grateful to a certain crossbench senator for picking up on the PMO's work picking up my typos. Seriously, though, the economic opportunities and the national security imperative depend on us getting this right. That was the aim of the committee's letter.

We should not be distracted from that. If we don't get it right, we will not only miss the boat on enormous potential, but we will also be exposed to our adversaries who will, with malevolent intent, take advantage and equip themselves with the power of AI. This is not a call for a blank cheque but a call to recognise the urgency to get this done on our terms.

Good friends are essential in this place and—contrary to popular belief—there are good people here. Indeed, in my view, they are the majority. It's impossible to be friends with everyone, and indeed anyone who tries is a fool, though it's not impossible to seek to find ways to get along despite the differences that may exist.

Of course, we all have our trusted friends and colleagues, people we confide in, people we turn to for advice and those we can vent to at the end of a long day. Having a war cabinet you can rely on is essential, and I want to turn to my Canberra family. Matt O'Sullivan and Andrew Hastie have been brothers that have given me a boost and helped me grow in ways that are hard to describe.

Your godly counsel and friendship will remain a cornerstone for me in life well beyond parliament. Though I have to say it remains one of life's great mysteries: how did two men with full heads of hair—I'm exhibit A—end up sharing a bathroom when the man with no hair got a bathroom of his own? To what is left of that original grouping of formerly younger senators, soon to be known as the G4, James Paterson, Claire Chandler, who is soon to be a mother, and Slade Brockman, thank you for your friendship.

I look forward to supporting you from outside this place. Indeed, I spoke earlier about the unknowns and uncertainties when you come into this place. All of this has been softened and made easier by those who sit around me.

My colleagues from the Liberal and National parties have very much become family, from mad uncles to annoying cousins through to siblings you look forward to seeing. This team of whom I'm proud to be a part has helped me get the most out of every day here and actually enjoy it more than I otherwise would have. I say thank you to my team for your grace when I stuff up, for laughing at my jokes on cue, but importantly for making up the fantastic team that works so well together.

I'd love to name all of you, but I think, given our bond, you know how special you are all to me. Of course to my friends who ventured to the rarefied air of the Senate from the other place—while at times we speak different languages, your friendship and support have been invaluable. To my own leadership team here in the Senate—Michaelia Cash, whose source of energy still mystifies me.

For someone who has limited caffeine intake and doesn't drink wine, you amaze me. Your leadership has been tremendous in the Senate. To Anne Ruston, Jane Hume and our whips team led by Maria Kovacic and of course formerly by Wendy Askew, thank you for the roles you've played in keeping this train on the rails.

To Matt Canavan and Bridget McKenzie, I'm sorry I never joined the Nats. I think I would have fitted in, though the only downside is that cowboy hats ruin my hair. To Angus Taylor, I want to thank you for entrusting me with the important work that you asked me to do and for being so very supportive of me in my decision to leave when I know it is probably not what you wanted.

Thank you. People tune into question time—I'm not sure how many, but some do—and they see a fair degree of acrimony. It's only fair that people would assume that no-one in this place is friends, especially when it comes to the party divide.

I have the very good fortune of being able to say that I leave this place with friendships with a number of people who disagree with me on nearly everything. I look down the government frontbench, and I see people I would call friends despite being formidable opponents, like the government leader, Senator Wong, who of course—and I'm going to let the cat out of the bag now—colluded with me to rein in and almost kill off formal business motions.

Sorry, crossbench! There's my Tasmanian colleague Carol Brown, who conspired with me to get funding for Foodbank in Tasmania a couple of elections ago. I don't think we ever told our headquarters that we did that!

Well done! I look down to the Greens there and I see my opposite number, Senator Hanson-Young, with whom I found much in common, mainly through trying to outwit the government, sometimes with success. Some people say that the Senate is like a French film.

It seems like it makes sense, but then it doesn't—even to us. However, a functioning Senate is an important thing, and I think people often overlook how important we actually are. In trying to make this place function, there is one person from the other team I've come to build a tremendous friendship with, and that is Katy Gallagher.

You wouldn't read about it—a left-wing Labor lady and a right-wing Liberal bloke striking up a great relationship. When difficult discussions were to be had between warring parties, your humanity has made the difference. None of us admit this until our valedictory speeches—and I'm not going to be any different here—but the fact is that staff make this place tick and frankly save us from ourselves most of the time.

To my staff team over the years, I want to thank you. To John Polack, John Klonaris, Jono Maran—yes, we had some name variation in my office—Mary Seselja, Danielle Fontane, Claire and Nick Dunham, Will Calvert-Jones, Bec Dunham, Danielle McKay, Jack Morgan and the many wonderful people who have done their best to make me not look like a fool over the last decade, I want to thank you.

I'm grateful for the patience you've all shown me, the hard work you've put in and your willingness to take my late night, early morning and weekend phone calls, which often don't have a point. But I'm especially grateful that you all realise that too many cooks spoil the broth. Of course, for most of us, we don't get here without our parties—the organisations we believe in and that we unite behind as we go to the people seeking their trust.

The Liberal Party in Tasmania means a lot to me and has given me all I have. The gratitude I have for every role I've fulfilled by virtue of my great party is immeasurable. Indeed, I would never have been able to contribute as a senator but for my Tasmanian Liberal Party.

That includes our party president, Michael McKenna, who made some extremely difficult decisions to strengthen our party; our treasurer, Jackie Martin; our state director, Sam McQuestin; and the many members who supported me and our party in a number of ways over so many years, including and especially people like Dorothy Dehais and, of course, my first boss, Paul Calvert, former president.

To every single member of the Tasmanian Liberal Party who pay their fees each year because they love and want to advance Tasmania, thank you for what you do for our state, our country and our great party. We all have tutors in life, and I want to single out a few people here tonight. Don Morris, Darcy Tronson and Brad Stansfield are three political professionals who've imparted to me great knowledge and who've been some of the greatest assets to the Tasmanian division of the party.

My parents-in-law, Tina and Zekri Palushi, imparted to me the stories and lessons arising from a life without freedom and democracy. Their support and wisdom—and, of course, sharing with me the story of my wife's great-grandfather, Fran Mirakaj, who I referred to in my first speech, who was martyred for his stance on democracy and Christianity in Albania—have all helped me to fight the good fight for freedom in this place.

Of course, also, to Abby, Ben and Endrit, thank you for your love and support and for being here today as well. To my own family—my mum, Mary, who is a force of nature and who incidentally is also retiring from public life this month, so there are going to be a lot of Duniams with spare time on their hands; my dad, Roy, who has been the most steady and tremendous support to all of us in all that we do; and my siblings, Matt, who is here and thank you for coming, and my sister, Paula, who can't be here—thank you for your love and good humour through the last decade of this journey.

When I entered this place, my sons were just young boys. I remember looking up, and I could barely see them poking over the edge of the barrier there. In fact, my youngest, Spencer, was so young that he was in care on the other side of the building in the early learning centre during my first speech.

But, as usual, time did what time does. Today, one of them, my son Hugo, is an adult, and my middle son, Henry, is well on the way. Along with my wife, Anisa, my boys are the joy of my life.

They are three young men of whom I am proud and who I dearly love. My family are the biggest blessing from God that any man could ever ask for. For 10 years, boys, I've been doing this—plus all the time prior.

You've been missing out on holidays with dad, time at home with him and all the normal things that many of your friends got. You've done it all with grace and maturity. I am grateful for the support that you've shown me through how you've handled this, and I know it hasn't been easy.

But it's over now. For 10 years I've given this everything, but I dedicate the rest of my life to supporting you, nurturing you and helping you as you go on to your own adult lives. Now, for anyone who's worried, my boys were not left alone at home.

They benefited from the care and love of their mother, my wife, Anisa. The reality is, as everyone in this place who has children knows, that the absence means it falls to the other parent to do family—to raise, to correct, to educate, to discipline, to run around, to feed, to do everything. When things go wrong, that parent is on their own.

It is difficult. Politicians' families are just like every other family. There are problems.

There's illness. There are things that need dealing with. In our case, it was Anisa who kept the home fires burning bright and made sure everyone had what they needed when they needed it.

Being able to contribute at all in public life for me would not have been possible without Anisa's support and her fearless and extremely frank feedback, which has certainly aided in my personal and professional growth, shall we say. Anisa, as I said in my speech 10 years ago, I will be thanking you for the rest of my life. And I think that's right, although I have this sneaking suspicion that those thankyous are going to become more expensive as time goes on.

Speaking of famous Albanian women, Mother Teresa, in her 1979 Nobel Prize acceptance speech, reflected on where goodness and love start in the world, from a Christian perspective. She said, and I quote: And if we really believe, we will begin to love. And if we love, naturally, we will try to do something.

First in our own home, our next door neighbor, in the country we live, in the whole world. That is a reminder to me that first getting it right at home, having the love in a family, is where change in the world really does begin. So, to that question that I've been asked more times than I care to remember, 'Why are you going,' I think the answer for you all tonight is abundantly clear.

But, President, I can tell you I'd rather have people asking me why I'm going than when I am going to go! Although, given it's been four months since I announced my retirement, it is getting a bit to that time! Everyone likes free stuff, so I thought I'd throw in some free advice today.

Our adversarial system of politics is a breeding ground for division, where points of difference and argument are increasingly the only way to cut through. That's necessary and healthy in a contest of ideas, but it shouldn't be at the expense of resolving issues in the national interest. It's incumbent upon all of us to find ways to resolve issues that confront Australia.

We will and we should always have our counterarguments. But Australians are looking for mature debate, where Australia's best interests come first. Former US prosecutor Roy Cohn from the McCarthy, reds-under-the-bed era, is credited with coming up with the 'three nevers' rule: never apologise, never admit, and never back down.

With trust in politics at a low ebb, his advice could not be a bigger bum steer. There is nothing wrong with admitting when we get something wrong. And, in fact, I think it should be applauded.

I note, though, I say this from opposition, where of course it's an art form to seize on admissions of failure and defeat. But I believe it is in the country's interest to admit when things don't work and change course if needed. As part of this free advice, it wouldn't be complete without at least one Bible reference from me.

Jesus said in the Parable of the Faithful Servant in Luke 12, 'To whom much is given, much is expected.' To all of us in this place, much has been given, without exception. Therefore, from all of us much is expected by our community and by our country. And I hope every day those who go on to occupy this place remember this and live it out in whatever form they can.

As I conclude, I must acknowledge that the challenge for my party is real, and no-one can deny that. But this challenge is not insurmountable. I come from a proud party with strong foundations.

The Liberal heritage, the legacy and the record are all things to be proud of. Having just handed down our methodically crafted and strong immigration policy, I've been reflecting on the legacy of our party when it comes to strong borders. I've been reflecting on how we've been the only party in the past to end the people-smuggling trade and fix a broken migration system.

I've been reflecting on how my party remains the party of fiscal prudence and strong economic management. One doesn't have to cast their mind back too far to recall the debt the Howard government was left with, which they paid off and turned into the Future Fund money set aside for the advancement of our country. We have a history, and we should be proud of it.

My party can give Australians what they need, not by pretending to be someone else or seeking to appease certain actors but by returning to our roots—by backing in with conviction our values framework the We Believe statement offers and explaining why it is better than the alternative. We should never wave the white flag. We should always put forward our plan and make the case for people to vote for us.

My party has been around for decades. It isn't populist. It isn't flash in the pan.

It is here to stay. And, sure, we may have spent some time in the wilderness, but we have our bearings now, and I know we will be able to get back over there into government. I commenced by quoting my late grandmother.

I conclude by quoting my great-great-grandfather Tasman Underhill Duniam I—I'm a history buff—who, when being asked by a committee of the Tasmanian parliament in 1882 about the success or otherwise of his farming venture in the new farming district of Mount Hicks in north-west Tasmania, having given up the comfort of his paid employment, said: 'People said I would starve.

I have not yet starved'—and, to be clear, he never starved, otherwise I wouldn't be here today! People can choose to do what is comfortable forever or they can challenge themselves and go on to do new and different things. I don't know what awaits me outside this chamber, but they do tell me that there is life after politics.

Whatever it is, I'm very much looking forward to it. It's time for me to go now, President. I thank the Senate.