INAUGURAL SPEECH
Member for Huon– Hon Clare Glade-Wright MLC
Tuesday, 11 August 2026
Taken from the draft Hansard
Ms GLADE-WRIGHT (Huon) - I acknowledge the motion as moved by the member for Launceston. It is a worthwhile motion and I support it. But with your indulgence, I turn now to offer my first words in this Chamber as the member for Huon, and I will return to the motion at the end.
To stand in this Chamber is an extraordinary privilege, and I do so mindful that this seat belongs to the people of Huon, noting their contributions to its thriving communities. The Huon electorate is relatively new. The area has been represented in the Legislative Council since 1856 and first became an electorate in 1900. But in the scheme of things, this is only a recent slice of history, because this area was originally inhabited by the Muwinina people, the Lylequonny people, the Melukerdee people and the Nuenonne people. These people cared for the lands and waters not just for 200 years, but thousands and thousands of years. They were the first leaders responsible for sustaining their communities. They were the first teachers, hunters, fishers, the first doctors, midwives, scientists, chefs, homemakers, the first land and water managers, artists, dancers, musicians, storytellers, architects, innovators, navigators, boat builders, bushfire managers and custodians. I have utmost respect for the thousands of years of knowledge that has been passed down over time, the knowledge that lives on past a terrible invasion and exists today in the Palawa people. I acknowledge the Palawa people and I acknowledge the important work of Weetapoona Aboriginal Corporation and South East Tasmanian Aboriginal Corporation, both of which have a direct presence and role in the Huon.
In my opinion, true recognition requires more than just acknowledgement, it requires action. Our shared future will be stronger when the Palawa are not merely consulted and acknowledged but respected as partners in shaping the future of our conservation, land use, planning, water management, heritage protection and natural resource management, and most of all, their ongoing quest for self-determination and their right to shape decisions that affect their communities, culture and future.
In more recent times, the Huon has been shaped by an extraordinary network of people. The people of the Huon are remarkably active and engaged, as evidenced by the many groups and organisations that contribute to the strength of our region. There are progress associations and hall committees, community and volunteer organisations, service clubs, Landcare and Coastcare groups, community gardens, friends' sheds, women's groups, neighbourhood houses, markets and crop swaps, historical societies, sporting clubs, youth and senior citizens groups, business and tourism associations, emergency service volunteer brigades, wildlife rescue and multicultural organisations, disability advocacy groups, LGBTIQA-plus groups, churches and faith-based community groups, school associations and parent and friends committees. On top of all of that there is an abundance of art galleries, artists, musicians, writers and theatre groups.
I would like to show off my scarf, which was made by a Cygnet local, Debra Weiss, who creates these beautiful fabrics featuring beautiful endemic species - don't make me try and say the botanical name of this particular endemic species because it's quite difficult, but it's also known as the red seaweed, so we will go with that - I wear this as a gesture of support for our local artists and in recognition of the vital role that art plays in our community.
The Huon is known for its rich agricultural heritage, particularly its apple orchards, cherries, berry farms and premium food production. There is a strong maritime history that continues today with skilled boat builders, and the iconic Huon Pine is a timber central to the region's identity. The Huon hosts the Cygnet Folk Festival, the Huon Show, A Taste of the Huon, the Mediaeval Festival and Renaissance Fair, Huon Valley Midwinter Festival and Dover Sea Fest. The region is renowned for breathtaking natural beauty and attracts visitors to Bruny Island, the Huon River, Tahune Airwalk, Hastings Caves and Thermal Springs, Cockle Creek, the Far South wilderness and to experience food and wine tourism.
As you can see, and I know that Section 99(8) of the Standing Orders says that I can't start a quarrel, but I clearly represent the best electorate in Tasmania. That brings me to Chapter 2, which is my story. I was born and raised in southern Tasmania in a family of artists. My dad is here today. As a teenager, I was convinced Tasmania was the daggiest place on earth and I couldn't wait to leave. I dreamed of becoming a famous actress. After school I studied stage acting at BAPA, the Ballarat Academy of Performing Arts.
By the time I graduated, however, I realised that acting wasn't my calling, so I headed off to La Trobe University to do a law degree, but after completing 2 university degrees, a sense of adventure had come over me, and I booked a ticket to Africa. For a year I travelled through Africa with an overland expedition company, visiting 26 African countries.
In West Africa, I wandered the souks of Morocco, crossed the Sahara, I visited Timbuktu, I saw the coffin makers in Ghana, I trekked the Dogon trek in Mali, and I saw the voodoo culture in Togo. The next leg of the journey was Cairo to Cape Town, top to bottom down the East Coast. I saw the ancient wonders in Egypt and Sudan. I explored the rocky churches of Lalibela in Ethiopia. I skydived over the Namibian desert, I whitewater rafter down the Zambezi River and I saw remarkable places and unforgettable wildlife.
The warmth of the people of Africa is something you can never forget. Inspired by those experiences, I applied to become a tour leader myself. After obtaining a medium rigid truck licence and completing training in England, including some basic truck mechanics, I spent the next two years leading expeditions through South America. Along with my passengers, we trekked the Andes, explored Patagonia, we partied at Rio Carnival, we kayaked around icebergs, tobogganed down live volcanoes, trekked glaciers, and visited ancient sites.
I experienced countless adventures that challenged and shaped me. I have a few great stories to tell probably another time about surviving countless border crossings with corrupt border officials and one time even finding myself face down in the sand on a beach at night with a gun to my head while the truck was being ransacked. Another time.
It was a pretty adventurous time in my life. Between Europe, Africa and South America, I spent four years travelling, visiting 52 countries in total, navigating unfamiliar places, solving problems on the run, managing groups of people. I was good at that and adapting to whatever circumstances arose. My Spanish was getting pretty good at that time as well. Those experiences taught me resilience. They gave me a broader perspective on the world and opened my eyes to the different ways that other cultures organise themselves and make their decisions.
Eventually, I left my life of adventure and returned home to start a family, only to discover that Tasmania, this little island that I had once been so eager to escape, was in fact an extraordinarily special place. Travelling the world gave me a much deeper appreciation for the beauty of Lutruwita/Tasmania and the strength of its communities. My children, Priya, who's 11 and little Xander, who's now 8, became the focus of the next stage of my life and I made sure that I taught them just how special our island is.
I've built and operated an award-winning eco-tourism business, the Hobart Hideaway Pods, which received 6 different tourism awards, including for sustainability. One of my proudest achievements was incorporating sustainability and education into the business, including an Aboriginal plant trail in the native gardens, developed with guidance from the wonderful Trish Hodge.
At that point in time, politics was the furthest thing from my mind, and I certainly had no plans to enter public life. But that brings me to the next chapter, which is Chapter 3: Getting Elected.
This chapter begins in 2019 during the federal election. Climate change had become one of the defining issues and I remember feeling deeply concerned when Scott Morrison was returned as Prime Minister who was not much short of a climate change denier.
Around that time, I came across a social media post that would ultimately change the course of my life. Its message was simple, it said: rather than being overwhelmed by the global problems, instead just focus locally on where you can make a difference. Taking that advice to heart, I became involved with the community group Sustainable Living in Kingborough. Together we undertook a range of community initiatives from tree giveaways to hosting film screenings. We won a grant to install a Fogo bin outside a local cafe, where we noticed their efforts to provide compostable coffee cups were ending up in landfill bins, and much, much more.
As I learned more about the environmental impacts of organic waste going to landfill, I successfully petitioned Kingborough Council to introduce the Fogo bins - the green waste bins with the green lids. To see that petition debated, I attended my very first council meeting and I was fascinated. Before long, I was attending council meetings regularly and in 2021 I was elected to Kingborough Council through a by-election. Eighteen months later, I was elected Deputy Mayor.
In 2024, I unsuccessfully put myself forward at a state election. It was an invaluable experience, but it felt a little bit like a dress rehearsal. I returned to my role as Deputy Mayor, committed to serving my community at the local level.
Then, towards the end of 2025, which wasn't so long ago actually, the community group Voices of Franklin approached me about standing for the Legislative Council seat of Huon. My initial response was an emphatic no. However, they persisted and ultimately convinced me that I had something worthwhile to offer.
At this point in time, I will give a shout-out to the Voices of Franklin Group, Luca's behind me, who are dedicated to grassroots community consultation and the processes set out by the community independence movement right across Australia as spearheaded by Cathy McGowan in Victoria which was then followed by the Teals.
Once selected as their community-endorsed candidate, a remarkable group of volunteers came together to build the campaign. Some of them are here today, but lots of them are actually watching online. Michael Digby, Luca, Lara Wynn, Kathy, Ant, just to name a few. They're a whole army of volunteers, including my two children, but everyone knows who they are and I remain profoundly grateful for their support. Luca, I acknowledge your tremendous effort and support. You're such a powerhouse and I am forever grateful.
I'm also grateful for the support from Climate 200. With the shared values of integrity in politics, gender equality and climate action, their endorsement was another proud achievement of my campaign.
But what struck me most about the campaign was that it was never really about me. Even though I have a university degree in stage acting, I still get a little bit nervous public speaking and being in the spotlight. So instead, we made sure that the campaign's modus operandi was about elevating the community's voices and ensuring that they were being heard.
That brings me to the next two chapters of my story, because the two things that I heard loud and clear from the community was the desire for healthy waterways and tiny homes. I'd like to speak to both of these things now as I promised that if elected, I would champion these two things for my community, and I want to set the tone for my advocacy moving forward.
Chapter 4: healthy waterways. For many in my electorate, the health of the Huon Estuary and the D'Entrecasteaux Channel is a defining issue, hosting 85 per cent of Tasmania's aquaculture. These beautiful waterways, with their striking views and quiet serenity are part of what draws people to live there. There are hundreds of kilometres of coastlines, bays, beaches and coves where families fish from jetties, children learn to swim and paddle, and people boat, walk, dive, kayak and gather with friends.
The Huon also has a strong community of cold-water swimmers. They know the waters intimately and they speak to me about the importance of the waterways for their mental health and social connection. Their close observation is a form of citizen science which I value. Many of these people express concerns about what they are observing, with seagrass beds disappearing and shellfish becoming less prevalent. I heard, too, of the noise and light disturbances that anyone living near an aquaculture facility experiences on a daily or nightly basis.
One of the things that I learned over time is that public debates around environmental issues can often become highly polarised. On one side, there can be a tendency towards alarmism. On the other side, there can be a tendency for dismissal. Neither of those approaches are particularly useful.
I've spent a considerable amount of time speaking with various scientists to try and understand what's actually going on. What was explained to me is far more nuanced than what is often being presented. The evidence certainly does not support the idea that the Huon waterways are some kind of ecological wasteland. There are many indicators that continue to show resilience within the system but equally, however, the science does not support the view that there is nothing to worry about. Many scientists are concerned about the risk of a sudden ecosystem collapse. The concern is that there are multiple pressures that are acting simultaneously on an ecosystem that is already facing the additional challenge of a rapidly changing climate, resulting in the frequency and severity of marine heatwaves. On top of that, there's agricultural land run-off, an ageing septic system and ageing wastewater infrastructure and aquaculture, all of which contribute nutrient load into the marine environment.
A healthy system can absorb stress. A resilient system can adapt to change but as the pressures accumulate, there is a growing risk that the ecosystem can approach a tipping point beyond which recovery becomes increasingly difficult.
I like to think about it like a little fish tank, when you get a little fishy and it's swimming around in the fish tank and it's all clean and nice and everything's fine, and then suddenly it's green. That is the sign of an ecosystem collapse, and that is what is at risk in the waters of my electorate.
I aspire to the concept of doughnut economics developed by an economist, Kate Raworth. I find it compelling because it asks us to rethink the way we define success. Too often when discussing industries and environmental management, we reduce the conversation to economic output. We ask: How many jobs is it creating? How much revenue is it generating? We ask what contribution it makes to exports or gross state product. These are important questions, but they're not the only questions. Doughnut economics proposes that the purpose of an economy is not just endless growth.
The idea is simple. Imagine a doughnut. The hole in the middle represents where people are missing out on the basics they need for a good life: health, housing, work, things like that. The outside edge of the doughnut is the limit of what the natural world can cope with before the environment starts to decline. Between those two boundaries, within the doughnut shape, lies what Raworth describes as a safe and just operating space for humanity. When viewed through that lens, I believe there is a strong argument that the future of aquaculture in Tasmania should move further out to sea and into deeper waters. The community just want their beaches back.
This view is reinforced by the upper House inquiry into finfish farming which recommended removing aquaculture from shallow waters.
I want to be absolutely clear: this is not an argument against aquaculture. Aquaculture provides employment and economic benefits to many regional communities. I recognise that and I respect that. Rather, it is an argument about location and long-term sustainability.
If we can find ways for aquaculture to continue prospering in deeper, more exposed offshore environments, it would restore amenity, reduce the conflict, allow greater public enjoyment of beaches, and coastal environments, and, most importantly, it would reduce the risk of ecosystem collapse. Surely that represents a positive outcome. That would be consistent with the principles of doughnut economics, rather than simply focusing on the lowest possible cost of production.
Regardless of one's views about aquaculture, I believe there is one thing on which we should all be able to agree. We need a far better understanding of those cumulative pressures that I mentioned before. At present, there is significant monitoring occurring, but much of that work remains fragmented.
For nearly three decades, the award-winning Derwent Estuary Program has brought government councils, scientist, industry and community together to understand and improve the Derwent's health. Through public reporting, trend-tracking, and evidence-based decision-making, it has built trust and transparency. A similar program in the waterways of my electorate, could help us move beyond arguments about individual sources of impact, and instead focus on the health of the system as a whole. It could provide the independent, transparent, and accessible information, that communities have repeatedly told me that they want. In fact, during my campaign I launched a petition calling on the government to implement a Healthy Waterways Program, and it was signed by the Weedy Seadragons, and the D'Entrecasteaux Dippers who swim in the channel, the Channel Aquaholics from Woodbridge, the Conningham Cormorants, and the Conningham Cephalopods from Conningham - these are all cold-water swimming groups, by the way, I didn't say that - the Dunking Southern Rites from Dennes Point, the Cygnet Sea Urchins from Randalls Bay, and the Franklin Frosties from Franklin. Along with over 500 individual signatures. There's an appetite, definitely, for a healthy waterways program.
The challenge before us is not choosing between the environment and the economy. The challenge is ensuring that both can thrive together, and that is the test that matters, and that is why I believe a doughnut economics approach, combined with the Derwent Estuary-styled program, and moving aquaculture further out to sea, offers the most constructive path forward for my community, and for the waterways.
Our job in this place is to keep ideas alive, and available, until the politically impossible, becomes the politically inevitable, and that is what I intend to do. That brings me to my next chapter, which is about tiny houses. Again, applying the doughnut economics model, whereby we must not overshoot the Earth's resources, we too should not leave vulnerable people behind.
Chapter 5. Tiny Houses. What is a tiny house? A tiny house is a movable dwelling on wheels. Unlike caravans, a tiny house is built for long-term living with greater storage, comfort and amenity. They are generally heavier and more house-like than a caravan, which is designed just for travel, but they offer a pathway to homeownership when owning land is out of reach. A professionally built tiny house on wheels can cost as little as $90,000. While even a really high-spec fancy one can be built for under $200,000.
Again, I'll reiterate: the defining element of a tiny house is the ability to own your own home without needing to own land. A tiny house-owner will find a land host, and they can lease a small parcel of land which gives the ability to move somewhere else when required. Therefore, tiny houses really are only suitable to rural areas, which is mostly my electorate in which there are lots of rural areas. While I was out campaigning, I had the pleasure of meeting the tiny house community. There are many, many people, living in tiny houses, but unfortunately most are opting to fly under council's radar because there is no easy way to get approval as it stands. Because tiny houses are a relatively new typology, they don't fit neatly into existing legislative frameworks. If a tiny house is road registrable, it's usually treated as a caravan and doesn't require building or planning approval. But as soon as you live in it permanently, or you connect to services, or you add a little deck, anything like that, it must be assessed as a dwelling. Permanent dwellings in Tasmania must comply with the National Construction Code, and most tiny houses on wheels struggle to meet this code because they're built as a lightweight structure rather than a fixed standalone house. Which means that tiny house-owners go around in circles in the compliance journey and often never come out with a legal solution.
The question before us is whether Tasmania should create a sensible regulatory pathway that allows this form of housing to be used safely, legally and appropriately. Tiny houses on wheels certainly aren't for everyone. I mean, really, you can't fit a family of six in a tiny house. They're more for singles or a couple. But what they do have the potential for is to form a part of a solution which would free up other housing stock for those people who do want a standalone house. Once I started talking about tiny homes in the community, I was overwhelmed with people reaching out. Many builders called me telling me that they could churn tiny houses out very quickly, and there was just an unbelievable amount of people got in touch saying that they wanted to live in them.
So why has this issue resonated so strongly? This won't be lost on anybody here, but Tasmania is in the grip of the housing affordability crisis. Homeowners are under immense financial pressure, also known as mortgage stress, while renters are facing some of the highest rental rates in the country.
The scale of the problem is reflected in the social housing wait list. As of January, more than 5300 applications were waiting for social housing, including more than 4100 people who were homeless or living in temporary accommodation. The wait list is not simply a measure of housing need, it is evidence that we do not have enough homes to house people who want them. Beyond those official figures are many more Tasmanian sleeping in cars, couch surfing or doing whatever they can to keep a roof over their head.
Housing is a human right. We need a human rights act in this state, but that's a topic for another day. If that came to this place, I would support that, but for right now, the scale of the crisis demands practical, creative and innovative solutions to housing supply.
One of the strongest arguments for tiny home reform is the range of people who could benefit. For older Tasmanians, a tiny house on wheels could support intergenerational care with an ability to live close to family. They could also offer older women, which is one of the fastest growing groups experiencing housing insecurity, a more achievable housing option. For younger Tasmanians, down the other end of the spectrum, a tiny house could provide an affordable path to independence while they save a deposit for a house. A tiny house could also help the people in the middle, also known as the 'missing middle', people who do not quite qualify for social housing but cannot afford conventional homeownership.
There are many facing financial hardship after a relationship breakdown or fleeing domestic violence, or later in life when securing a long-term mortgage becomes much harder. Did you know that once you're in your fifties you can't get a standard 30-year loan? When speaking with the tiny house community, Sally told me that after returning to Tasmania, and despite having a sizeable deposit, she could not secure a standard 30-year mortgage due to being in her early fifties. This effectively locked her out of the traditional housing market, but a tiny home gave her an affordable place to call home.
Cherie, a mother who spent much of her life renting, told me that a tiny home was her pathway to housing security after her children had grown up. Tony and Deb shared how retrenchment, ill-health and the prospect of carrying a mortgage into their seventies led them to embrace tiny living so they could retire with dignity and lower living costs. While Sabrina and her husband, unable to afford local land, built a modest $90,000 home on wheels and now live happily on a retired woman's property, providing companionship, security and practical help to their landlady while freeing up a conventional rental home for someone else.
These stories show how a well-regulated framework for tiny houses on wheels could create housing opportunities across every stage of adult life. Reform would also benefit rural landowners by earning modest supplementary income and making productive use of underutilised land. Tiny houses have a smaller environmental footprint than a conventional home and they're effortless to heat and cool, making them great for the environment too, and they present economic opportunities for builders. Importantly, councils are not resisting this conversation. I haven't spoken to other councils, but along with both Kingborough and Huon Valley Councils, I'm sure there are other councils who are supportive or actively advocating for reforms that would provide a compliance pathway.
We know that people from every stage of life want to live in them; we know that builders want to build them; we know that land hosts want to host them; we know that councils want to approve them. They're good for business, they're good for the environment, and we're in a housing crisis: seems like a no‑brainer to me. Other jurisdictions around Australia have already begun the task of establishing approval pathways. In Western Australia, the Shire of Capel approved a tiny home community by treating the proposal as a 'use not listed' within its planning framework, allowing the local authority to assess the merits of the development: very creative.
In New South Wales, Shell Harbour City Council has adopted a two‑year tiny homes pilot program. The proposal allows one registered tiny house on wheels per residential lot, so you've got no issue with slums, just one little tiny house on each rural property, subject to conditions relating to servicing, setbacks, bush fire protection, flood risks and safety requirements. These examples demonstrate that governments and councils across Australia are finding ways to adapt existing frameworks to accommodate new housing models. The housing crisis requires us to think differently and consider new and emerging forms of housing that can safely, affordably and sustainably meet people's needs. Tiny houses on wheels will not solve the housing crisis on their own; however, they could provide older Tasmanians with security, young people with independence, families with flexibility, land owners and builders with opportunities, and communities with additional housing supply. The challenge before us is not whether we can regulate them; the challenge is whether we have the courage and imagination to do so. Political will is all it will take.
I think I better wrap up now, because I've laid down the two things that I want to champion on behalf of my electorate. I'm looking forward to working constructively with you all in this House, and I would like to finish by giving some thanks. Firstly, I would like to thank Michael Roberts, who has been my mentor for the last six years. Michael, thank you for your guidance and for your wisdom and sharing this journey with me.
I would like to acknowledge my predecessor, Dean Harriss, and thank him for his service to the people of the Huon. I'm well aware of how fond the members of this council are of Mr Harriss. I acknowledge the hard work of all the candidates who contested the Huon election. Electors were lucky for choice, I thought. The campaign was conducted respectfully with debate focused on ideas rather than personalities. I hope that standard continues in future elections, especially in the upcoming local government elections.
A shout out to my friend, Lara, whose support during the first eight weeks of my election was invaluable, as I found myself jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire; and thank you to my family - my dear dad is here - for all of your support, and to all of the volunteers and electors who got behind me. I really see my role as being the vehicle for the voices of my community; and lastly, I thank the members of this Council and the parliamentary staff for the warm welcome that everybody has extended to me. I've never felt like I've had a silly question, and that, in my opinion, is a credit to this institution. Thank you.
Finally, I want to briefly address the motion before the house on speaking time limits. I support the motion moved by the member for Launceston, and I do so because I believe it speaks to the way this Chamber can best use its time. This motion is not about gagging debate, nor is it about discouraging members from making a full contribution. It's about recognising that the time of this House is valuable and that our work is best served when contributions are clear, focused and effective. When there is a substantial legislative workload before us, overly lengthy speeches can prevent us from completing the work Tasmanians expect of us, especially given that we only have 28 days of the year to debate government business: we can actually debate government business for less than 8 per cent of the year.
In the Australian Senate, a senator may speak for a maximum of 20 minutes in any general debate, with an additional 10‑minute extension. Is our work very different from theirs? The skill of parliamentary debate is not measured by how long we can hold the floor, but how clearly we can make our case and respond to the matter before us and, where possible, persuade our colleagues. If the central points of an argument cannot be made within an hour, then perhaps the task before us is to sharpen the argument itself. We've all heard speeches where the strongest point is made early and then returned to again and again. Repetition does not necessarily strengthen an argument; often, it simply makes it harder for the audience to remain engaged. Time limits can encourage all of us to prepare a little bit more carefully, choose our words deliberately, and make our contributions in a way that respects both the Chamber and the public that we serve. For those reasons, I commend the motion to the House.