It's a great honor for me, personally, and to my family, to be considered as your speaker today.

I am typical of the majority of Australians: the child – or descendent – of immigrants.

In my case, my parents came from the ancient land of Cyprus in 1951, to an Australia that had only just reached middle age as a nation.

This was a time when Australia was a place for opportunity for all: despite its isolation, or perhaps because of it, visitors were treated with that quaint Australian form of respect – they allowed newcomers to do their own thing.

The European way was, and is, much more about collectives, of working together for a common goal: my parents sensed this difference, and went their own way, no doubt watched curiously by the locals of Coburg .

What else could my parents do?

Theirs was an arranged marriage, they were thrust together in a new land, in a new culture, with a different language, and with little or no family to support them.

The beauty of the time was that although they weren't overtly embraced, they were allowed to be whatever they wanted to be, without prejudice, without any sense of superiority: the Australians of the fifties wondered aloud about the strange habits of all these newcomers from Europe , but they let them be themselves, and this is a wonderful thing.

This was the start of a period of great diversity and cross-fertilisation and challenge; a period in which new met old. A period which brought enormous change to the way we are, the way we think – a period, through my parents, which has had such an enormous impact on me, and the way I look at the world.

In the 50s it was almost uniquely a European invasion. Today we are a mix of so many cultures, and nationalities, from Europe still, but masses of newcomers from Asia, from the Middle East, and from Africa , still pouring in – despite much tougher, and harder entry conditions – adding to what we are as a country.

I wonder whether today's newcomers are allowed to be themselves, as were my parents: do we trust them like did the Europeans of the post-war years?

We trusted them in those days because we were sympathetic to their needs, because we had fought their war, and lost so many of our own in those battles. Many newcomers had come from war ravaged states; most from poverty, or minimal opportunity.

Is that so different from what we see today? It isn't, but I'm afraid we have a more wary approach to newcomers than we did when my parents came.

I can't quite work out why this is, but I suspect it's an indication that the whole world is less trusting of the unknown than it has been in its modern history.

Terrorism has played a huge part in this lack of trust, but so too has localised violence, and predatory behaviour.

Few, if any modern parents would consider letting their children walk to school alone during their primary years.

All this builds up into a community, regional, state, and national mindset. It impacts in strange ways.

We have become wary, looking inward rather than looking out. We have closed down, rather than opened up.

How do we change that?

First we have to identify it as a problem, and if we do, find a solution.

In that regard, I am glad that we have days like Australia Day, even though so many think of it as just another holiday.

It is so important to have days of reflection, of challenge – a mature nation, like a mature business, must have points of reference: if we don't, how can we maintain our culture, our personality, our national character?

How life works can be complex, can be simple: on days of reflection it gives us a great opportunity to go back to basics, and work out if we're on the right track, or we've taken the wrong turn, or we've reached the T-intersection.

In business we do it at budget time, in family we do it at various anniversaries, personally we might do it on New Year's Day; as a country we SHOULD do it on our national days … on Australia Day, and in a different way, on Anzac Day.

Reflection is based on a simple set of principles: where are we now? What brought us here? And where do we want to go?

Add to that a few other givens: to get where we want to go, who can help us?

It's fascinating to apply those principles to the Australia we have today.

We have just come through a terrible time – the Tsunami of December 26.

But that disaster has brought out the best of us as a nation.

We have been, and continue to be, the most generous of nations, giving so much to support the massive task of rebuilding communities ripped apart by a freak of nature.

As that renowned philosopher Ron Barassi said: “We have played well above our weight.”

This is the Australia I love: instantly reacting to the needs of others. We asked no questions, we reacted immediately, we provided everything we could – money, expertise, people, ideas – everything we could.

But does this outpouring represent what we really are as a nation?

I'm not sure if it does.

Despite our response to the Tsunami, we remain the conservative country we have become in recent years.

When we, as a country, reflect on where we came from we look narrowly, inwardly, rather than considering all the influences that have made us the country we are.

Notwithstanding the massive support we have given to the Tsunami appeal, we are more inclined to self-interest than sharing; more interested in surpluses than what we do with them, more interested in the stock market than the state of education, and equality of opportunity.

I make this point because I believe the current thinking of our nation is too narrowly based: it does not seem to think of what is possible, but how do we maintain our status quo?

We seem to have lost our sense of adventure, our sense of backing ourselves, our sense of looking towards tomorrow, preferring to worrying about today.

I believe it's time to ask ourselves some key questions, as we reflect on what sort of country we are today.

The first flows directly from that: What sort of nation are we building for the future?

Can we continue to believe we are a just and sharing and inclusive society?

Where to with reconciliation? Why isn't it at the top of our agenda?

How does the rest of the world see us?

And so on …

Before I provide my personal answers, I want to pause and give you an insight into the way the AFL works, and has worked. It's relevant to so many of these issues.

I've been at the AFL only a few years, CEO for just one.

So many of those questions, in one form or other, were posed to the AFL, and by the AFL, in previous administrations.

Some of them were posed angrily: when Essendon champion Michael Long, a leader of the Aboriginal race – accused another player of racial abuse on the field of play.

How did the AFL respond? It responded, as you would hope any major political organization would respond.

It did not retreat.

It did not employ spin.

The AFL confronted the issue, created a solution for the moment, and developed a strategy to change the way its players interacted on the field.

It took that moment into the broader community: the AFL became an organization at the forefront of cultural change and the recognition of equality.

I am proud of that process: we saw a fault, and we took the repair not just to the local panel beaters for a makeover, but we fixed the model, and took it far and wide.

We continue that pathway today: I am so excited at the potential of the AFL influence on indigenous Australia .

So many of our initiatives have had fantastic results, beyond all expectations.

If we can gain support from the Federal Government to leverage our programs to all parts of the country, we will continue to make an enormous positive impact on the quality of life of indigenous Australians.

I am well aware of the strength of the AFL Brand, and all it means, in all parts of Australia .

In many ways, it's daunting to think that leadership of the AFL is not just about football leadership, but about how we can influence community thinking, how much our values can be transmitted to the broader world in which the AFL is such a powerful citizen.

We can change the way the game is played: that's our charter. But we also can have huge impacts on the way all Australians relate with indigenous Australia (i.e. reconciliation), on the health and well-being of our children (the obesity challenge), on the concept of team before individual (the opposite of self-interest).

We understand our strength, and we are keenly aware of our responsibilities to be more than a sporting body.

The AFL model – the way we approached on-field racism is a good example of the way we work – is the model I would love to see for Australia – let's not apply spin or empty rhetoric, but think about what's best for the nation.

So how can Australia again become an adventurous, far-thinking, generous nation, one which always plays beyond its weight?

We do it with leadership: not leadership from the prime minister down, but the community up. A groundswell for change.

I was fascinated this morning, after I had completed the broad outline of this address, to come across an interview with Tom Peters, the renowned challenger of the way the corporate world works. His comments are directly relevant to the concept of leadership from the community up.

This is what he said: “When I talk to 5000 people, I know there might be 10 in the audience who really get it, and have the guts to make something happen. Out of that 10, probably three will go ahead and make radical change – that's OK – because those three can ultimately change things for the other 5000.”

This is the legacy we must give to our children, the leaders of 2030.

We must all be leaders.

Leadership, in this sense, is not about being in charge: it's about allowing yourself to ask – or allowing others to ask – whether what you're doing is right, can you do more, can you ask more questions, can you seek assistance when in doubt?

The next decade is a watershed for us as a country.

It will see the transition from the Howard era to another era: what will come after John Howard?

Who can know?

All I can do is hope that the next generation of our leaders – whether Liberal or Labor – will think broadly, and challenge their values and our values, rather than building barriers between us and a world in need.

One example: if a Tampa suddenly appeared on our borders today, I'd like to think we might ask how do we embrace the people on board, rather than how to rid ourselves of the problem.

I'd like to think we'd respond as we did when the Tsunami struck, rather than how we did when the Tampa arrived, uninvited, on our shores.

That's just part of a long list of wants and wishes I have for Australia : all connected to one overriding philosophy: to think beyond the moment, and beyond self-interest.

• I want a government that constantly challenges itself, and applies our riches fairly to all;

• I want the generosity we have shown during the Tsunami crisis to be part of our daily lives;

• I want young people to be selfless, rather than selfish, to seek the best of themselves, rather than expect support from others;

• I want us to be an integral, respected, sharing part of our regional and world community. Not subservient, not arrogant – the neighbour you love, the old friend you need;

• I want our boundaries to be open, and our welcome without prejudice;

• I want our flag to be our flag, and our country to be our country.

• I want Australia 's natural joy of life, our sceptical approach, our team ethos, to be driven further by a search for excellence and achievement.

• I want us to be adventurous again.

And I want all that for the AFL as well.

It's a long list, but every part of it is achievable, if we have the mindset of leadership for ourselves, and we think for tomorrow, not today.

My parents had a long list when they arrived more than 50 years ago.

They might not have articulated that list, but they acted upon it.

They thought big, and they achieved big.

They never thought of themselves, but their children and their new country of opportunity.

That's their legacy, that's what they gave me.

I hope it's the same legacy that the parents, and community leaders of 2005, will be referred to by the generation of 2060.

Finally, all this gave me a time to reflect on what I want for my twin daughters, Francesca and Alexandra, just 15 months old, with their whole lives ahead of them.

This is what I want for them, and it comes from the last thing the great Australian writer Morris West wrote before he died.

He wrote: “My hope for the future is that we Australians may become a family, reconciled by mutual understanding and forgiveness, respectful of our differences in origin, race and creed, proud of our unity as a free nation, careful of each other and of this vast, by fragile continent, which we are privileged to inhabit.”

Thank you.