By Barbara Perry
Some lives are measured in positions held or honours received. Others reveal themselves in the tenderness of a handwritten note or shared meal, moments forever remembered by those around them.
The recently-deceased Dame Marie Bashir was blessed with both kinds of legacy: public service of the highest order, and a profound, personal generosity of spirit.
I first encountered Marie in the early 1990s when I was a young lawyer working at Legal Aid. Then Dr Bashir, a highly respected psychiatrist, she gave expert evidence in the Family Court relating to children experiencing trauma.
At a time when mental health was too often marginalised, Marie spoke with clarity, compassion and an unwavering commitment to justice, particularly for the most vulnerable.
She understood that the wellbeing of children was not a side issue, but foundational to the health of families and society. Her voice carried weight, not because it was loud, but informed, principled and humane.
In 2001, our paths intersected again in a more public way. In March, Marie was appointed Governor of NSW – the first woman, and first woman of Lebanese heritage, to hold the office.
Just months later, in September, I was elected to the NSW Parliament as the first woman of Lebanese heritage, and the first woman, to represent Auburn.
For our families and communities, these milestones carried a quiet but powerful significance.
I vividly recall the day Marie visited Punchbowl. She was welcomed as Governor in the traditional Lebanese way, with drums, ululation and unmistakable warmth. After moving through the crowd, greeting families and young people, she remarked to me how touched she had been. The community had recognised her as one of their own.
When I was sworn in as a NSW cabinet minister a few days after Easter 2007, she presided over the ceremony at Government House.
My grandmother, Siti Mazzel Farhart – who was born in Lebanon – was present. On that day, Marie spoke warmly with her and mentioned Kibet el Rahib (monk’s soup), a traditional dish eaten on Good Friday.
She shared that she and her husband, Sir Nicholas Shehadie, had been asking Lebanese restaurants whether they made it but could not find one.
My grandmother later sent Marie Kibet el Rahib. Marie responded with a beautiful handwritten note of thanks, saying the dish had stirred memories of her beloved grandmothers.
Upon her retirement in 2014, The Sydney Morning Herald observed that Marie was “her own Governor – and a Governor for everyone”.
While cherishing her heritage, she recognised that she held a role that belonged to all Australians. She understood instinctively that belonging is central to human dignity, and she had the rare gift of making people feel seen.
Marie believed in the value of education to humanise, once remarking that “the three most important vocations in this state are teachers, nurses and plumbers”.
Raised in a family where every child was expected to make the most of their schooling, her belief was that learning should cultivate mind and heart, nurturing curiosity, empathy and wonder. Knowledge alone was not enough; the formation of the whole person was essential.
This insight informs our very vision at Sydney Catholic Schools today – that parents and families are the first teachers, fostering these virtues through early example, encouragement and conversation, long before children enter the classroom.
As Governor, Marie used her responsibilities to encourage compassion, justice and change. Meeting with her at Executive Council was special. She brought grace to the work of government, reminding us that our decisions affect real lives.
And then there were fond memories of sharing breakfast with Marie once official business was done: tea and toast at Government House, conversations that ranged from family to social justice and mental health. I always valued her counsel, advocacy and consistent concern.
I write these reflections on Australia Day, a time when we are invited to consider our national story and the people who have shaped it.
Supported by her loving and distinguished husband Sir Nicholas, Marie was in every sense a great Australian because she embodied the values we hope define us as a nation.
In her public and private life, she was profoundly Christ-like: reaching out to those on the margins, listening with patience, and gently challenging society to recognise the dignity of every person.
Marie Bashir would likely shy away from praise. It remains for us, as a community, to honour a life of service, lived with grace, humility and purpose.
