Richard Marles (Corio, Australian Labor Party, Minister for Defence) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

If the contribution that Graham Richardson made to public life was simply measured by what he achieved as a minister in the Hawke and Keating governments, then that alone would mean his legacy was one of titanic proportions.

As the minister for social services, he sought to make life fairer for pensioners by increasing the earnings on their savings, by making their pharmaceutical medicines more accessible. As the minister for sport, he oversaw an inquiry into drugs in sport, which led to the establishment of the Australian Sports Drug Agency in 1990. And, of course, as the minister for the environment he put in place protections for the Kakadu National Park and saw the inscription of the Daintree Forest on the World Heritage List, which guaranteed its protection. That achievement alone is one which will last long after all of us have left and are forgotten. It is an achievement of the most enormous proportions.

That Graham was so successful as a minister spoke to his intelligence, his passion, his drive but also to his fundamental ability to get things done in this place. Yet, of course, we all know that Graham Richardson was much bigger than all of that. Politics is about the exercise of power, and that exercise is a competitive business. Thankfully in our nation that competition is peaceful, but it is competition nonetheless, and it happens at every level between parties—within parties: competition to become preselected, competition to sit on the frontbench.

There are those who are involved in the organisation of that power, and it is far and away the most difficult task which is undertaken in political life. Graham was a person who performed that role. Now, all of us in our journeys have known those who have sought this role for all the wrong reasons. So to have a person who comes to it with the right motives and the right interests makes their place all the more precious. Graham was empathetic, he cared about the Labor Party first and foremost, he was intelligent in the way in which he went about his business and, most of all, he was willing to do hard things and make difficult decisions—quite often to his own personal detriment. But his performance of that role, with the likes of the former senator Robert Ray and others, underpinned the entirety of the Hawke-Keating government, the longest serving Labor government in our nation's history and the great peacetime government in the Australian story. It means that in addition to his own personal contributions as a minister, his name is rightly connected with the achievements of that government as a whole.

As a person growing up and coming into young adulthood, the Hawke-Keating government was for me the definition of the very best of Labor. It defined for me what I hoped my life would be about. It was a government that was filled with heroes, and amongst them from where I sat at that age, I saw Graham Richardson as a giant. Later in life, as I came to be in this place and to walk these same corridors, it was clear that, for all of us, we are on a pursuit of understanding—understanding how the Labor Party works, understanding how power works, understanding how broader politics is pursued, understanding how Australia fundamentally runs. And it occurs to me that, when Graham Richardson left this place back in 1994, his understanding of all of that was as great as anyone who has ever lived. And it meant that, in his postparliamentary life, when Graham went into the media, he was incredibly successful. He knew what he was talking about and he had an ability to cut to the heart of an issue, to understand its essence and to be able to convey that to a much broader audience and to do so with humour.

It was in his role in the media where I first met Graham personally. In fact, Graham in many ways reached out to me simply to offer his wisdom and his counsel if ever I needed it—and need it I did. I found myself speaking to Graham frequently. As all of us come across problems in this place which feel at times completely intractable, Graham was a source of advice, and, more often than not, he offered a way through. He was really clear about what needed to be done. He didn't pull any punches if that involved doing difficult things, but he was deeply encouraging in the ability for us to achieve it. It was a counsel and a wisdom and a friendship which mattered to me greatly. And of course I was not unique. There are so many others of us who have been a beneficiary of Graham's wisdom. What it means is that, in the current generation of Labor politicians in this place, Graham's mark is very much amongst us on this very day, and I'm deeply grateful for it.

When I take a step back from all of that, what strikes me is the generosity of it, because Graham was already a giant. He had every reason, having left here, to walk off into the sunset, not busy himself with the difficulties of this place and to simply enjoy life. But he loved the Labor Party. He cared about us. For those of us who were the beneficiaries of his wisdom, we very much felt that sense of care. And so, the Graham Richardson I knew is a person who was characterised as a man with a giant heart. Graham demonstrated that mostly in his relationship with his family, Graham had a former wife, Cheryl, and children Mathew and Kate, but in the time I knew Graham it was in his raising of D'Arcy and his marriage to Amanda where I really saw this on display. Graham loved both of them so, so much.

Graham had real difficulties with his health. He was a long-time sufferer from cancer, and in 2016 he had a very well publicised and very appalling decision to make. His pathway forward was to have radical surgery which involved the removal of much of his gastrointestinal tract, and it promised a future which would be one where there would be a very, very long recovery, much pain and a very different life that would be led afterwards. It was not an obvious choice to make, actually. But I remember talking to Graham about it, and he made it clear to me that, by the time he was 23, he'd lost both of his parents, and that had impacted him greatly. As his son D'Arcy was growing up, he was absolutely determined not to leave D'Arcy without a father in his childhood. He was determined to see D'Arcy achieve adulthood in his lifetime. And so he made that decision, and it was all of those things. It was painful, there was a long recovery and life afterwards was very different. But he did return to the media. He gave his insightful commentary. He continued to be a mentor to me and to so many others, but most importantly he was there as D'Arcy's father and Amanda's husband.

You know, in those years I looked at what Graham was doing and thought it was utterly heroic. It was such an incredible thing that he was doing for his family. When Graham passed away last Saturday fortnight, he did so after D'Arcy had turned 18 and he did so within 48 hours of D'Arcy completing his last final-year exam. He did indeed live to see D'Arcy complete his schooling and for his boy to become a man. Amidst the grief that I know that D'Arcy and Amanda are feeling right now, amidst the grief that we all feel right now, there is a solace in that, because it is such an incredible gift that Graham has given to D'Arcy and to Amanda. For all of us who had the privilege of seeing that, it is an extraordinary inspiration. Graham Richardson very much will live on in his family. Graham will live on in what so many of us take from his counsel and in the way in which we go about our work in this place. He is a man who is much loved, who will never be forgotten and who will be deeply, deeply missed. Vale, Graham Richardson

Michael McCormack (Riverina, National Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

Fine words by the Deputy Prime Minister from another, former deputy prime minister. I love Richo. I really did, and he was so good to me. You can only take people as you find them. You can only take people as you see them, as you have experiences with them, and Graham Frederick Richardson AO was so very, very good to me—unusually so, because, as you just heard from the Deputy Prime Minister, the member for Corio, Richo was a Labor man through and through. He loved the Labor Party—he did—but he loved his politics more, and he wanted Australia to be the best possible place it could be. I think he also loved the fact that he could help and defend somebody who was being kicked, somebody who was down.

I have to say during my time as DPM there were times when there was a pile-on, and you knew that when there was a pile-on most of the media, most of those in politics, would also pile on. They would kick and they would kick hard. Richo was somebody who would come across and put his hand out. He would defend you. And, when I met Richo the first time in a political sense, he was there defending me. He came to my wife Catherine's and my house, our home, and he had Amanda with him. He had D'Arcy with him—what an impressive young man D'Arcy was and is. You could tell there was this deep bond between those three, that close-knit family.

Richo interviewed me for Sky, and he did a special on me which was cut short by one Alan Jones. Richo was horrified at the fact that Alan Jones—it was his show—stepped in and, you know, nipped the interview in the bud. But, whilst the show was on air, you could sense this friendship that was forming between Graham and I, and it was a friendship that endured and endured to the day that he passed.

I was very, very upset when I learnt that he had died, not just because I didn't get to experience that long lunch that we'd been promising to do for some time but because I'd lost a very true and dear friend, and Catherine had too. I wasn't aware of how close Catherine and Amanda were, but they were texting on the day. I saw Amanda in the corridor the other day. I know she was in the parliament this week for the Prime Minister's and the Leader of the Opposition's fine eulogies and fine memories of Graham. But I have to say Australia has lost one of its brightest beacons with the death of Graham Richardson. He was always so very supportive and encouraging. He happily gave his wise counsel. I'm from the National Party—go figure this. You've got a Labor doyen, somebody who is entrenched in—call it for what it is—the union movement, the labour movement, who reaches out across the aisle, across the political divide, and wants to help and support a National Party person at a time when that National Party person was having a pile-on against them.

I'll tell you the other person who did this as well—it was Simon Crean. Simon Crean and I were very, very close, and I cried the day I learnt that he had passed, and I don't cry very easily. But when my wife, Catherine, just after Easter last year had open-heart surgery, Richo reached out. He sent a beautiful bunch of flowers. That was special. He would be the first on the phone to ring and to offer his advice but also to pep you up when he thought you needed it, and that's rare in politics. I know the Deputy Prime Minister and I have a good relationship, and I admire the job that he's doing, although I'd never admit it publicly—I think I just did!—and I know the Attorney-General and I have a very close relationship. You form these friendships across the aisle, and you do it because you want the best for our nation. I hope the member for Dickson and I can, eventually in the future, as well. We're only custodians of the job for as long as the people who get to vote us in decide that we are still the person for the job.

Richo gave his all when he was the health minister and other portfolios as well. Yes, it was whatever it took. Yes, he was a rogue. Let's call it for what it was. He was a bit of a rogue in his younger years, but who isn't? None of us are perfect—absolutely none of us are perfect. But he gave so much to this nation. He gave so much to politics and to the Labor movement. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and I understand and know full well that he was one of Labor's powerbrokers, numbers men. He was ruthless when he needed to be, but he got on well with people across the political spectrum, and that's the important thing. He loved his country—there's no doubt about it.

You didn't have to second guess Richo, because he was a plain talker. He was upfront and he was honest. He was straight to the point. He meant what he said and he said what he meant each and every time. I know that he gave that promise to D'Arcy—lovely, smart, intelligent, beautiful, young D'Arcy—that he would live until D'Arcy had completed his Higher School Certificate, and he did. He kept his word. You know why he kept his word, Deputy Speaker? It's because he was a man of his word, and he was. If he said he was going to do something, then he jolly well did it.

As the Deputy Prime Minister has just said, he had so many surgical procedures. He had so much going wrong with his health, but he didn't complain. You didn't know about it; he just got on with the job. He was mortified as to his inability to do the normal daily everyday things that most of us just take for granted, but he was mortified as to what he was doing to Amanda or asking her to help him in every possible way of life. That was the Richo we know and loved. His articulate thoughts in the media—and they were articulate—always cut through. Even when Scott Morrison went on his little overseas trip—and I know; I was the DPM at the time!—and the whole nation was on top of Scott for doing that, Richo defended him. Richo was in there, and he was saying: 'Well, prime ministers need holidays too. They need a break.' The one thing that he fell upon in that argument defending the then prime minister was the fact that it was about family. Richo believed in family. He believed in core values.

I'll be a little bit political here. Even though he was a former environment minister and we can thank him for what he did to preserve, save and protect the Daintree rainforest, he also believed in—wait for this—coal. He did! I remember he texted me one day, and he said, 'Only idiots think we can do without that black stuff.' He was sensible, and he was pragmatic—unusually so for this place. I say 'this place' across the aisle because he didn't always go with what you would expect him to go with. He didn't always just go with the grain and fall into line because that was the party political position. And that's what I liked about him most. He was a little bit maverick. But when Graham Richardson spoke, not only did the parliament listen, but the nation did as well. And, as I say, I loved the bloke. He was so, so good, and for somebody from the National Party to be saying this in a condolence motion about somebody from the Labor Party—it boils down to the fact that we're all just human. We all just have the same desires, the same hopes, the same ambitions and the same aspirations.

The thing that Richo and I shared was a love of this nation. And I know we all do, but I will never forget the support and encouragement that he gave me. It was when you were at your lowest ebb—and I'm sure that goes for other people too—that you could always expect a call out of the blue from Richo. I say 'always expect', but it was out of the blue. He'd send a text, he'd give you a call and he'd say, 'Keep on going.' He would be there to support you when the party political way would be, 'Let's get stuck into him, and let's ruin this bloke forever.' No—that wasn't the Richo way, and that shows the deep love that he had for this nation, for his fellow human beings. Yes, we have lost a combative person from the halls of parliament, but we've also lost a beautiful man who had so much more to give. And I know he gave all he had.

To Amanda and D'Arcy, and to the Labor Party, the Labor family: my and Catherine's deepest condolences. I will miss him greatly. I loved him dearly. Vale, Graham Richardson.

Michelle Rowland (Greenway, Australian Labor Party, Attorney-General) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I rise today to pay tribute to the extraordinary life of Graham Richardson, a stalwart of the New South Wales Labor Party and someone many, from all sides of politics and the commentariat, regarded as a mentor and friend. I pay my condolences to his family, particularly his wife Amanda and their son D'Arcy.

However, I do want to spend the balance of my contribution today reading into Hansard a tribute by someone who knew Graham for more than four decades. The following are the reflections of Mr David Tierney on the life of Graham Richardson:

I, David Tierney, have known Graham Frederick Richardson, or 'Richo' for over 42 years. In 1983, when Graham first got elected to the Senate, he hired me as his researcher. I was 21 and it was my first time in a suit.

Later, I served as his chief-of-staff and for decades was the behind-the-scenes "number cruncher" or scrutineer on those election night coverages from 1984 onward.

We pioneered election night coverages—well before the AEC did two party counts on the night.

And it is those coverages that first exposed the public to the young brash senator with the bouffant hair.

While we are very different people—with different personalities and priorities, we immediately clicked from day one.

And so, it was from boss to mentor, election guru to lunch and footy buddy, to a dear friend.

Even though we disagreed on many things, we only ever had one argument in 42 years.

I apologised, even though I was right, and we moved on.

Although I formally stopped working for him in 1990, at times over the years I think Graham never accepted that resignation. At times, I felt I was still his chief-of-staff in perpetuity.

…   …   …

It has been well documented that Graham was the consummate, and sometimes, ruthless political dealmaker. He often forged those lasting friendships over a meal. Many deals, friendships and plots were forged over meals, the most famous being "the night of the long prawns," where he brokered a deal between Michael Knight and John Coates to end an AOC/Government financial stalemate.

So, when it came to fighting political battles—Graham's weapon of choice was the Chopsticks!

He was a master of the dark art of "lazy Susan diplomacy".

Nothing much got past Graham and certainly not the lazy Susan at Sydney's Golden Century.

…   …   …

Graham—of course—had a reputation for being a hard political operator and tough negotiator.

When it came to negotiating, there was often a nuance to Graham's tactics, taught to him by his political mentor, the legendary Bruvver John Ducker.

A nuance but not subtle: you just openly tell the person what you would actually do, and then just do it.

…   …   …

Whenever there is discussion about Richo's ministerial career and legacy—a great legacy—the commentary often reflects the day that he, along with fellow staffer Simon Balderstone and myself, got manhandled a little in Ravenshoe, North QLD.

We were there prosecuting the case to World Heritage List the Wet Tropics—often shorthanded to—"the Daintree".

As it is well reported, I won't recount the story (suffice to say it was a bit scary), but rather describe its instructive postscript.

At the airport on the return from the rainforests, we reflected on how we had been ambushed and roughed up by outside timber workers.

Graham said that was not a fair hearing for himself NOR for the people of Ravenshoe. They weren't heard either. So, Graham said "we're going back!"

And two weeks to the day that we were bashed, we were all back in Ravenshoe in the Town Hall. Although this time we had four federal police with us. We still got booed and they ended up turning their backs on us.

But it reinforced the message that Graham repeatedly told his staff: "you must always show up".

That is, if you make decisions that directly impact people's lives and livelihoods, they have a right to hear from you, and you have a duty to explain your decision to them 'face-to-face'.

And so, in all his portfolios, and party roles, he always showed up to defend his position, argue his case and often cop a return serve.

…   …   …

Graham's most recognised Ministerial achievements focus on his work protecting Australia's most precious natural environmental assets like the Daintree, Tasmanian Forests, more of Kakadu and the Great Barrier Reef.

But, he made some other major significant contributions to public policy.

He drove through the largest funding package for initiatives to improve health outcomes for Indigenous peoples; programs that made a real difference to people's lives.

He rewrote the model of sports funding and super charged sports funding in Australia. He reformed the AIS; directly funding coaches for the first time and reorganising funding priorities to focus on the 10 key sports. All those measures significantly improved Australia's overall sports scene and our Olympic Games results then, and in the decades that have followed.

Australians have long held a fascination and love for the Antarctic. It conjures up images of adventures and wilderness. But, our Antarctic expeditions had been poorly serviced. Graham developed the business model to build Australia's first, and only, icebreaker supply and scientific vessel to service our Antarctic bases.

And he convinced his colleagues to spend a little extra so that the icebreaker—the Aurora Australis—was built by Carrington Slipways in Newcastle. Launched by Hazel Hawke, it dutifully served Australia from Hobart for more than 30 years.

…   …   …

Graham served at a time when there were great orators.

Wran in NSW. Hawke and Keating, a young Kim Beazley, and a long list of very impressive and articulate Federal Ministers.

Graham was not quite in the same league as those. While Graham spoke very well, especially to the Party faithful—he COULD sell a message.

People could, and did, relate to him.

He would walk down the street and people would yell 'give it to them Richo'.

I'm not sure today of the exact reasons why people identified with him. Maybe a factor was that people got to know him through his election night coverages, where he would cut through the white noise—even chiding his own side sometimes. But I think of greater importance was that he used simple language to explain complex things. He cut through political spin and called a spade a spade.

Because as he often said: "the mob will always work you out".

…   …   …

While Graham had humble beginnings, it has been a long time since he could be considered a battler. Killara, Paddington and finally Dover Heights are not exactly worker enclaves. Not many worker cottages in the Heights and certainly no revolution is ever going to start from there.

However, no description of Graham is complete, without reference to his life-long commitment to helping those that struggle. As he told us and his son D'arcy as well… "When you are someone, remember always look out for the little people".

And he did. Both in office and his private life.

The best example is told by my fellow staffer, Morris Iemma. He recalls how a group of young sole-parent mums came to visit Graham with their kids when he was the Social Security Minister.

As they told their story of how hard life was, with many of them not having proper meals, Graham noticed that the kids just wore sandals and had blisters on their feet from ill-fitting shoes.

Graham then picked up the phone to the PM, Bob Hawke, and said 'Mate, what are you doing for lunch?'

Richo didn't wait for a reply, he said 'You are now having lunch with a group of young women and their kids as they haven't had a decent feed in a while and you need to hear what they've got to say. And then you are going to fix it.'

Again, not your regular Senator. And this was not an isolated case.

So contrary to his image, Graham championed the causes of those that were doing it tough—a trait best summed up by the ever-astute John Della Bosca who said, 'Graham's reputation suffered from a misinterpretation of his well-known "whateverittakes" motto. But in reality, he was a compassionate, public-spirited man whose sympathy was always with the underdogs.'

…   …   …

It surprises many that Graham was actually a 'details' man. His reputation was sometimes shortened to being just a short-term political opportunist. The reality was, as most insiders and the more astute journalists, and certainly all staffers knew, he worked hard to get across the details. He also had the inquisitive mind—always asking the right questions.

For instance, on the decisions to protect Tasmania's South West Forests, he was up against some powerful forces. The major economic and resource departments of the Government were monstering the much smaller Environment Department throughout the assessment process. They were pro-industry.

Graham read the draft and final cabinet papers and studied the maps four or five times. So, when he went into the detailed Cabinet discussions he knew the names, numbers and values of every forest coope in South West Tasmania.

That's why over 20% of Tasmania is now world heritage-listed.

Ditto the protection of the Daintree and the Wet Tropics.

Ditto Kakadu.

…   …   …

No reflection on Graham Richardson would be complete without mentioning that he was a devoted Head Office loyalist. All his life he supported the machine he helped create—sometimes to his own detriment.

He believed in the role of Head Office in campaigning, in managing party affairs, managing the factions and in advising governments.

He was close to every General-Secretary except one, since he left the role in 1983.

He provided counsel and advice to all party officials—whether they wanted it or not!

For Party Secretaries taking a call from Richo was often like mowing the lawn. Something you didn't want to do, but you knew you had to.

I think that even up to the day he died, he would consider himself the General Secretary in absentia.

…   …   …

Finally, one last reflection. No matter what your opinion of Richo was—Graham actually got to live the life he wanted.

He wanted to be involved in politics.

He wanted to be a player in government.

He wanted to make changes to society and above all, he wanted to help people.

So, for someone to be able to actually live the life they wanted is a good thing.

' So, m ate, my last duty is , for one last time , I doff my hat ( my titfer ) to you. Well played, son. Rest in peace. '

Vale Graham Frederick Richardson.

Patrick Gorman (Perth, Australian Labor Party, Assistant Minister to the Prime Minister) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I last saw Graham at the desk of the 2024 election coverage for the Queensland state election. We had a great chat together in the Sky studios. We compared notes. We sat and had a bit of a bite as we fuelled up for some six hours on air. We admired the fight that Steven Miles and the Labor team had put into their election effort, but we agreed that the likely outcome was pretty clear for all to see. We did have some highlights during that night. We shared some smiles across the desk, as we watched the Greens struggle and then go backwards throughout the night. And there I was, admiring his determination to be a blunt, sometimes painfully honest, Labor champion, despite all of the health challenges he'd been so open about. His wife, Amanda, was there with him, supporting him and sharing her insights as well.

To Amanda and to Graham's son, D'Arcy, I share my deepest condolences. Any family that shares a family member with the public spotlight pays an additional price, and I think we all know that Amanda and D'Arcy have lost someone who had so much more depth and so much more love than the 'whatever it takes' persona that many know of Graham in public.

As the Attorney-General just referenced, Graham didn't mind picking up the phone to give some advice to various party officials. He didn't just do it for the New South Wales branch. When I was secretary of the Western Australian branch of the Labor Party, he was happy to reach both across the continent and across the factional divide with some at the time very welcome advice on how to defeat the Liberals in WA, as we did.

If I think back to having read about the start of his engagement in politics, I can imagine the Monterey branch that Graham Richardson first joined. It's been described in many of the reports as 'sleepy'. I think we can all imagine that sort of dull party meeting that he must have walked into and thought, as a 17-year-old, 'I'm here to make a difference', and everyone's there to, probably, whinge about head office. But, just a few years later, there he was in New South Wales Labor headquarters himself. And before too long he was running what then became known as the New South Wales Labor machine. That was part of the passion and pragmatism that defined him.

Despite being passionately from New South Wales and passionately from the right of the Labor Party, Richo was an Australian, first and foremost. The blistering opening to his first speech left you in no doubt of where he stood with a view that he was here to act in Australia's interests. He said:

The rejection of Supply by the Senate in 1975 finally debunked all of the myths about this being a States House.

And he went on then to reflect on the core Labor belief of ensuring employment for all who wanted to work, saying:

The last election was won by the Australian Labor Party on the issue of unemployment.

And then, some 11 years later, he gave his valedictory—an excellent contribution after many fine arguments in that Senate. But it was with humour, flair, honesty and a very proud plug for his forthcoming book, trying to encourage senators to go and buy a copy, he said:

… Senator Faulkner and I had some … disagreements. I want you to know, Senator Faulkner that, for all the appalling things you have done, I forgive you. I want you to know … I harbour no grudge and that within 30 or 40 years they will all be forgotten. But, if I were you, I would be the first to buy the book in September, and I would look up the index, because I have got to tell you that you are there in large lumps.

Which confirms, I think, what the Prime Minister said in his obituary, which was:

Richo's life was often colourful, and sometimes controversial, but what lay at the heart of it was his sense of service, underpinned by his powerful blend of passion and pragmatism. He gave so much to our party, to our nation and to the natural environment that future generations will cherish.

That passion and pragmatism gave us both Prime Minister Hawke and Prime Minister Keating—election wins that, in retrospect, looked easy and certain outcomes but were nothing like that at the time. They were very hard fought, earned and won.

But it was in the environment portfolio, as many have reflected, that a man who loved politics and the political battle in all its dimensions really demonstrated his love for Australia itself. 'The greening of Graham Richardson' was the Sydney Morning Herald headline that would define his time in the portfolio, and in that they quote Graham as saying:

Trees are the sexiest issue of the '80s.

I'd like to say that some of those trees might be a little bit older now, in 2025, but those trees are equally as sexy today. And, if we think about those forests and the natural environment which he preserved—Kakadu, the Daintree—they are uniquely Australian locations forever attached to his legacy.

The Leader of the House, who worked for then senator Richardson, shared an obituary for his friend, and he outlined that the 'whatever it takes' headline was not just about power. The Leader of the House said:

I know the title of his book will always lead people to conclude everything was about power. I saw, up close, a fiercely loyal man try to drive a better health system and invest his capital before he left parliament in obtaining what was back then the largest ever investment in Indigenous Health.

Graham Richardson was blunt about the realities of politics. He was equally blunt about the possibilities of what can be achieved, and only achieved, by Labor governments. He also realised that the time for members and senators in this place is always limited but the impact of their decisions can last forever. As the Prime Minister quoted in question time yesterday, Graham said: 'My memory won't be around for very long, but the rainforests of North Queensland will be around forever.' I extend my condolences to all who knew Graham Richardson, especially to those from the New South Wales branch of the Australian Labor Party and, most importantly, to Amanda and D'Arcy. Vale, Graham Richardson.

Matt Burnell (Spence, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

Today we pause to remember a towering figure in the Australian Labor Party—a strategist, a fighter and a loyal servant of the movement—Graham 'Richo' Richardson. Richo was many things over his long public life: a senator, a minister, a commentator. But, more than anything, he was Labor to his bones. He understood the party not as an institution but as a living thing carried forward by people, by values and by the promise of a better life for working Australians. He dedicated every waking hour of his career to that mission.

Born in 1949 and raised in a family steeped in Labor tradition, Richo was shaped early by the stories of struggle and solidarity that define our movement. He joined the party as a teenager, not for prestige but because he believed in something bigger than himself. By his 20s, he was already deep in the engine room of the New South Wales branch, learning, negotiating, persuading and doing whatever he had to do to keep Labor competitive, united and capable of governing. And then came his extraordinary career in the Senate, where he quickly became one of the most influential political thinkers of his generation.

As Minister for Social Security and then as minister for the environment, he carried the same unwavering purpose of improving people's lives. The preservation of our natural heritage, of Kakadu and the Daintree, bears his fingerprints to this day. He understood something profound: working people deserve not only economic security but a country worth passing on to their children. In the great tradition of Labor reformers, he fought hard and sometimes fiercely to make that vision real.

Richo was known for many things: his sharp political instincts, his unmatched ability to read a room, his blunt humour and, yes, his famous willingness to do whatever it takes for the party he loved. But beneath all of that was a deep loyalty to colleagues, to friends, to the labour movement and to the ordinary Australians he believed Labor existed to serve. He never drifted from those roots. Even after leaving parliament, his voice remained unmistakeably Labor, on television, in commentary, at party events and in quiet conversations with leaders seeking his counsel. People listened to him not because he demanded it but because he understood politics the way few ever will and because his advice was always grounded in purpose, not ego.

Richo was not a saint, nor would he want to be remembered as one. He was a human—imperfect, fiery, passionate and utterly committed to his cause. But that is what makes a political life real. He believed in government as a force for good, he believed in the power of solidarity and he believed in the idea that no Australian should be left behind, and he fought for those beliefs with a seriousness and intensity that shaped a generation of Labor thinking.

In the electorate of Spence, in the northern suburbs of Adelaide, where working-class traditions run deep, there would be many who remember Richo not as a distant political figure but as a symbol of Labor's determination to keep fighting for ordinary families. He spoke in a language people understood. He didn't hide behind jargon or niceties. He cut through. And, whether you agreed with him or not, you always knew where he stood. That clarity and that conviction are rare.

Richo's passing marks the end of an era for Labor—an era defined by bold reform, tough decisions and unwavering belief in the transformative power of government. But his legacy lives on in the environmental protections he helped deliver; in the electoral victories he helped secure; in the culture of strategy, loyalty and purpose he instilled in the party; and in the countless Labor MPs, staffers and members who learned from him, formally or informally, what it means to serve. Richo faced significant health battles over recent years, yet even in illness he remained engaged, insightful and committed. His courage in those final years was immense. He continued to write, to analyse, to mentor and to speak his mind. He continued to give back to the movement that had given him purpose.

Condolence motions remind us that politics is not just policy or contest; it is the people, people who dedicate their talents, their energy and, at times, their health to the service of others. Graham Richardson was one of those people. He lived a big life. He leaves a big legacy. To his family, his friends, his colleagues in the Labor Party and all who mourn him today: I offer my deepest sympathies. May they find comfort in knowing his work changed this country for the better, and may they know that his contribution will be remembered not only in the history books but in the lives of Australians who benefit from his determination and his belief in a fairer nation. Vale, Richo. May you rest in peace.

Debate adjourned.