Youth Parliament changed my life, because I left that week-long nerd camp knowing my ideas can stand alongside anyone else’s. So next time parliament makes you roll your eyes, don’t change channels. Get up, and change the debate instead.
TASMANIAN YOUTH PARLIAMENT
On sitting days, the Tasmanian House of Assembly chamber is an imposing place. We see fiery clashes in Question Time, the same party lines trotted out again and again. It’s a mostly white, male-dominated, place, stale with deadlocks and a pint-sized budget. We turn down the radio, or flick over from the news, letting them get on with it.
But in June each year, it’s filled with a very different assembly. Whereas the average age is usually 50, no-one here is older than 19. Some members haven’t spoken in public before. The chamber is full of laughter, of the passion of teenagers, none of whom are here because they knew the right people or the right deals to make, but because they are united by a passion to make their futures better.
This is a way to do politics that isn’t mired by corporate interests, lobby groups, drained of vigour by bureaucracy.
The bells ring. Seats are filled. The orders of the day: the Public Education Bill 2024.
Boldly, funding for public schools would be indexed to inflation. A board would be established to secure stable funding, with any shortfall levied from the private sector – a particularly scandalous proposal.
The speaker clears his throat. “The question is that the Bill now be put to the first reading. Those of that opinion, say Aye… to the contrary, No … I think the Ayes have it.”
The No voters are reminded that this is a procedural vote – not to worry, they’ll get the hang of it.
During the second reading, everybody gets their say. Some members jump at the chance to speak, some still shrinking in the high-backed swivel chairs, polished school shoes scuffing the deep green carpet. Either way, no-one’s talking with a distant, bird’s eye view of ”constituents”. They talk about their friends on their school’s psychologist waitlist. About the classrooms that don’t have air-conditioning. About great teachers stretched to breaking point, in a public system starved of funds. They tell the House why this bill should pass, because they know first-hand what a difference it would make. The House then resolves itself into Committee, to consider the Bill in detail. Amendments are proposed. The Bill is assessed with a fine-tooth comb.
It’s at the third reading that the Bill comes down to the final vote. It seems like the Ayes have it, until someone calls a division. Ayes to the right of the Chair, Noes to the left.
“The result of the division is: Ayes, 17. Noes, 5. Therefore … the Ayes have it.”
The chamber erupts in cheers. The Public Education Bill is now on its way to an imaginary upper house, but the triumph is real enough, ringing out like the division bells.
Call it naïve, call it idealistic or reckless. Either way, it’s a breath of fresh air in this chamber’s stale air.
. . .
Youth Parliament recently celebrated its 20th year in Tasmania, inviting students from years 10-12 to immerse themselves in the law-making process, combatting the perception of youth disengagement and showing young people that there is a place for us in politics.
For a week, I was immersed in the processes of bill drafting, debate, speakers’ panels and workshops, having the privilege to debate and pass our bills in the House of Assembly chamber itself. At the end of the week, our bills were passed on to the relevant government departments for their consideration in combatting some of Tasmania’s greatest challenges today: housing inequality, education attainment rates and criminal rehabilitation, to name a few.
Youth engagement can seem as though it’s at an all-time low in Tasmania. According to Youth Network of Tasmania (YNOT), in 2022 only 53 per cent of Tasmania’s Year 12 students completed their studies, fewer than 60 per cent of eligible young people up to the age of 25 are actually enrolled to vote, and “young Tasmanians want greater involvement in local government, increased understanding of, and training in, civic and political processes”.
With almost 30 participants from all around the state this year, Youth Parliament has provided the engagement and empowerment that young Tasmanians are calling for. And thanks to the generous support of YMCA Tasmania, and politicians and the community, every participant who requested financial assistance was able to be provided with a full bursary. This ensured that the 2024 Youth Parliament was diverse, representative and accessible to all, as all places of law-making should be.
As well as financial assistance, many parliamentarians offered their time to chair debates, meet the Youth Parliamentarians and deliver speeches. In a world where “youth engagement” is often no more than tokenism, members including Vica Bayley and Tabatha Badger demonstrated a genuine commitment to the future of myself and my peers, not only as our representatives but as our mentors, chairing our debates and engaging with our arguments.
A few months after Youth Parliament, I tuned into an Australia Institute webinar featuring climate activist George Monbiot. Now that I had a taste for policy and politics, I wanted more. “Election does not give you a mandate,” he said, “to do whatever you please with your time in office.”
When we fill out our ballet papers every few years, do we assume that our politicians know what’s best for us? Trust them to take the reins and keep things ticking while we go about our usual business? Or is their ability to represent us hemmed in by party lines, the weight of an opinion poll balanced by a corporate donation? It’s particularly marked in Tasmania. Politics ticks along in the background.
That’s often how we like it – but have you ever thought to run for office? How many of your peers, friends, grandchildren, can picture themselves running? More than likely, you can’t fit yourself into what you envisage: the easy smile, the suit, maybe elocution lessons. You didn’t go to the right school. Your resume’s worth barely a glance. What do you know about public speaking?
We have forgotten that the only qualification you need to sit in that chamber, is the mandate of your peers. Young people especially want more people like them, representing them. There is real power in lived experience. Our politicians have many vested interests, and the younger you are, the more likely one of them is fairer education, better social mobility and a liveable planet in the future.
The Youth Parliamentarians have had the grandeur and the myths stripped away. We’ve written bills, amendments, we’ve cajoled and convinced. We’ve sat in the chairs with their timber-panelled armrests, fiddled with the drawer desks, and put fingerprints on the Huon pine tabletops. We’ve called divisions, driven clerks and Speakers mad, been called to order while brimming with tension and ideas.
We’ve lived the lives of politicians. We now know that most of those barriers are artificial. Youth Parliament has shown us that politics is a real career pathway.
What we also witnessed in Youth Parliament was faith in us. The MPs who volunteered as acting speakers engaged candidly with our ideas, received the final copies of our Bills, listened to our debates with genuine interest. In his book But What Can I Do?, aimed at young activists, former Labor advisor Alastair Campbell addressed his own generation: “We are preparing to pass on the baton, knowing we have to let it go, though we know the spotlight, the power, then moves on with them.”
We need more of this in Tasmania, both inside and outside of politics, to teach young people the tools to make a difference in their home state. So many newly graduated students leave the state for the mainland because they can’t see a future for themselves here. They don’t feel consulted, seen, or valued. Our Youth Parliamentarians know this can be changed, and I have no doubt we’ll be seeing them running for office in the years to come – and sooner than you might expect.
Hopefully, they usher in a new kind of politics, more direct than representative.
Youth Parliament changed my life, because I left that week-long nerd camp knowing my ideas can stand alongside anyone else’s. So next time parliament makes you roll your eyes, don’t change channels. Get up, and change the debate instead.
For more information on the Tasmanian Youth Parliament, see tasyouthparliament.org
For more information on the Youth Network of Tasmania, see ynot.org.au
Erin Coull is a nipaluna/Hobart-based writer and editor. She is studying a Bachelor of Laws and Economics at the University of Tasmania, but clinging to her creativity through slam poetry, personal essays and short stories. She has a passion for social justice and helping young people shape their own lives.
