Mr MORRISON (Cook—Prime Minister and Minister for the Public Service) (14:02): I move: That the House record its deep regret at the death, on 12 September 2020, of the Honourable John Joseph Fahey AC, a Member of this House for the Division of Macarthur from 1996 to 2001, place on record its appreciation of his long and meritorious public service, and tender its profound sympathy to his family in their bereavement. As we heard at his funeral service in Sydney at St Mary's, John Fahey had three lifelong passions: his family, his faith and the Canterbury Bulldogs. These three loves came together in 1993, the year when he led the successful Olympics bid. It was the year that the Canterbury Bulldogs were looking for a patron. The former state member for Canterbury, who is known to those opposite, Kevin Stewart described the selection process. He said: 'When John Fahey's name was fed into the Bulldogs's computer the green light went on at "Irish", again at "Catholic" and again at "former Canterbury-Bankstown player". It then went into meltdown when the word "Liberal" flashed up instead of Labor.' Much to John's delight, they picked him anyway, but you can understand why the computer was in such a state of shock. John's parents came from Ireland. They had 25 siblings between them. He was introduced to rugby league by Sister Kevin at St Anthony's at Picton. She was his first coach. In those days the grounds were not watered and the summer concrete pitch was covered over with a fine coating of dirt. In those early years John lost a fair bit of skin playing the game that he loved. After school John spent a year in the seminary in the Blue Mountains. Near the end of that time he approached the rector to tell him that he wasn't cut out for the priesthood. 'Funny you should say that,' said the rector, 'I've been thinking the same thing.' As John later accounted, 'I couldn't commit to a life without sport and women.' So for the next few years John focused on those pursuits. He played senior rugby league for Canterbury, Camden and Oakdale and he met a young woman from Oakdale named Colleen McGurren. They were married for 52 years—an absolutely beautiful, lifelong love story. Eventually John realised he couldn't play Rugby League forever. He chose law over sport—and, in time, politics. So, why did the Irish Catholic, Rugby League playing, working class lawyer, a bloke who loved a beer and smoked like a chimney, become a Liberal? He said he believed in a hard head but a soft heart. And in what wonderful Irish vernacular he proclaimed, 'And I got the'—I've deleted the expletive—'with Whitlam.' You can work out the missing word. John entered the New South Wales parliament in 1984. He was a minister within four years and a premier within eight. In particular, his achievements as minister for industrial relations were groundbreaking at the time. He became premier after Nick Greiner was forced to resign in 1992. But, for John, becoming what was known as the accidental premier in those circumstances wasn't something to celebrate. His view was that his ascension was the result of a travesty of justice. After being sworn in, he said, 'Today is probably the saddest day of my life.' Still, he took on the role with enthusiasm and authenticity—a trademark for John—and people loved him for it. At public events he was notoriously slow at working the room. In the days of election street walks, he'd talk to four people in about an hour—he'd have made four new friends, though—and say to his eye-rolling staff, 'Well, that went well'! But he wasn't slow on his feet the night we won the bid for the Sydney Olympics. His leap would have made even an AFL player blush. In our history I don't think there has ever been a leap more glorious than John's, and he gave bid chief Rod McGeoch such a ferocious embrace that I'm surprised he survived it. It looked more like a Rugby League tackle than a hug. On Australia Day the following year he did it again, when a young man fired a starter pistol at the Prince of Wales. He leaped again, helping tackle the man to the ground. His Royal Highness made a point of sending a letter that was read out at John's funeral in which he recounted that day and remembered John fondly. That is what John did: he ran towards problems when others might have ducked. One of my most enduring images of John was when Sydney was surrounded by bushfires—not leaping in the air, not shaking hands but on his knees at St Mary's, praying for the welfare of his people, of his city and of his state. Despite narrowly losing government in 1995, John wasn't done with politics. Within a year he was right here and was Minister for Finance in the incoming Howard government. Working with Peter Costello he delivered a dramatic turnaround, and he set in train a telecommunications revolution in Australia by commencing the privatisation of Telstra. But in 2001 he faced cancer. It took a lung. He had a one-in-four prognosis of survival. He left this House to focus on his recovery. John said: 'I want to do some more things. I want to continue to give to the community, and I intend to continue to work.' And he got that wish. He went on to be a director of the Royal Flying Doctor Service, chancellor of the Australian Catholic University and Chairman of the Rugby League development board. And he took that law degree back into the world of sport and became the president of the World Anti-Doping Agency, one of the most significant sporting administrative roles in the world. It was a role John was made for. He said sport is based on certain ethical principles, including respect for the rules, respect for one's fellow competitors, respect for the officials and ultimately self-respect—principles John lived by. John Fahey—like, indeed, Bob Hawke and Tim Fischer—was an Australian original. He mastered state politics, federal politics and world sport, always grounded by a rugged faith that understood the human condition. That's why he could never quite extricate himself from a conversation. During difficult moments John had a habit of putting his hand into his right pocket. He said, 'In my tough moments, my hand always went into my pocket, to put my fingers around my soldiers rosary beads.' John's faith taught him that suffering ultimately finds us all. On Boxing Day 2006 he lost his loved daughter Tiffany in a car accident when she was just 27. I don't know whether or not his world view made his grief easier, but I suspect it did. When asked why he'd been so lucky to survive cancer he said, 'Not long after, we inherited two grandchildren from my youngest daughter. I often ask, "Why me? Why was I given a second chance?" I think to care for them.' And that is exactly what he and Colleen did. To John's wife, Colleen, to their children, Matthew and Melanie, and to their grandchildren, we send our deepest condolences and our greatest of respects. John Joseph Fahey was an Australian original. May he rest in peace. May God remember his soul. He was a blessing to all of us.