Mr TURNBULL (Wentworth—Prime Minister) (14:00): I move: That the House record its deep regret at the death, on 18 May 2018, of the Honourable Sir John Leslie Carrick AC KCMG, a Senator for the State of New South Wales from 1971 to 1987, place on record its appreciation of his long and meritorious public service, and tender its profound sympathy to his family in their bereavement. Across the divides of this parliament, Sir John was one of the most influential and admired men in Australian politics. He walked alongside the political giants of our nation, but he was never in their shadow. He was a humble man who lived simply, wore second-hand clothes and gave much of his money away. Before he died, he told his family he did not want a state funeral. As a prisoner of war, Sir John had attended far too many funerals, and none of the friends he had buried were afforded any such fanfare—no family, no headstones, no ceremony. And in solidarity with his fellow soldiers, John Carrick wanted to be farewelled as simply as possible. It tells us so much about the man we remember today. He was born in Sydney in 1918, just a few months before the end of the Great War. He went on as a man to defend our nation in its darkest hours, fighting with the Australian Army's Sparrow Force in Timor during World War II. He was captured and spent more than three years in prisoner of war camps, including the infamous Changi Prison. He endured the brutality and inhumanity of working on the Burma-Thailand railway. Despite this terrible hardship, the life John Carrick made when he came home showed that his searing experiences had not buried his love of humanity. 'It's not people who create the savagery,' he said, 'but the systems of government … Human nature depends upon the political and social environment in which it finds itself.' Sir John's faith in our better nature gave him optimism and purpose, and he dedicated his life to its cause, strengthening our political system and ensuring that education fulfilled it's potential as the ultimate instrument of individual improvement. He mastered Japanese because he wanted to build bridges. He refused to testify at war crimes trials because he believed in forgiveness. And he and his fellow Sparrows funded scholarships for doctors and nurses because they wanted to repay the villagers who had helped them as prisoners of war. Like his fellow POW on the other side of politics, Tom Uren, he was determined to lead a life of public service when he returned. After the war, John began work as a research assistant with the Liberal Party, hand-picked by Robert Menzies, before accepting a temporary job, general secretary of the New South Wales Liberal Party. He later joked, 'Like a damned fool, I accepted the temporary job, which lasted 23 years.' Generations of Liberals, including myself, have benefitted from his good counsel. Sir John's famous reminder that you can't fatten the pig on market day spoke of the importance of having a plan, sound long-term policy and delivery founded on enduring Liberal values. He entered elected politics in 1971 as a senator and held a number of ministerial positions, including education minister from 1975 to 1979. Education was his lifelong passion. He described it in his maiden speech as his one great hope for society. As a minister, his many reforms included promoting choice in education and supporting funding for Catholic and non-government schools. It's an enduring policy that has bipartisan support to this day. His work in office and afterwards, after he left office, served to modernise our schools and recognise the critical role of parents and great teachers in education. In February, the New South Wales Liberal Party state council meeting coincided with the funeral of Lady Angela Carrick, Sir John's great love and steadfast partner for 66 years. On Saturday, when we next gather, we do so on the day of Sir John's funeral. The timing is poignant but appropriate. Sir John spent his final days saying goodbye to those he loved. His daughter Jane told me that he had one last request of his daughters. He asked them that they hold him while he died. In those prison camps the prisoners of war, deprived of all dignity, so far from their families and those they loved at home, had a pact between them that no-one would die alone. And so those brave men who had endured so much were held until they died. And so Sir John Carrick died in the arms of those he loved. Jane says he died magnificently, and he deserved that, having lived a truly magnificent Australian life. On behalf of the House and of our nation, I extend our deepest condolences to Sir John's daughters—Diane, Jane and Fiona—and to the extended Carrick family. May he rest in peace. Lest we forget.