Protecting people and getting the law right

By Archbishop Anthony Ireland

The Tasmanian Greens have introduced the Conversion Practices Prohibition Bill 2026 into the House of Assembly. The Bill was introduced by Dr Rosalie Woodruff MP on 10 September and has received its first reading.

Most Tasmanians will never read the Bill. They will hear its title and understandably assume that it prohibits what are commonly called ‘conversion therapies’.

If that were all it did, there would be much on which we could agree.

Practices which are coercive, abusive, or degrading, directed at a person because of sexual orientation or gender identity, should have no place in Tasmania. No person should be humiliated, manipulated, or subjected to harmful treatment intended to force a change in who they are. Where existing laws do not adequately protect people from such practices, those gaps should be addressed.

The concern is that this Bill goes considerably further.

It creates a new definition of a ‘conversion practice’ which includes conduct directed towards a person for the purpose not only of changing sexual orientation or gender identity, but of “suppressing” it.

The word suppressing is important because it is not adequately defined. What conduct amounts to suppression? How is the purpose of an ordinary conversation to be determined? Must suppression be the principal purpose of the conduct, or merely one of several purposes?

When legislation carries serious civil and criminal consequences, people should be able to understand where the boundary lies.

There is another unusual feature. The consent of the person concerned does not prevent conduct from falling within the legislation. This means that a competent adult may freely seek counselling or other support, yet the person providing what has been requested could potentially still be exposed to the operation of the Bill.

Whatever our views about sexuality or gender, there is an important practical question here. Adults ordinarily choose the counsellors they consult and the kind of assistance they wish to receive. Legislation intended to prevent coercion should be careful not to remove agency from the very people it seeks to protect.

I am particularly concerned about what this could mean in schools. This is not simply a Catholic schools’ issue.

Young people bring complicated questions to school. They talk to teachers, psychologists, counsellors, social workers, chaplains, and wellbeing staff. Sometimes a student is certain about what he or she is experiencing. Sometimes the student is uncertain. Sometimes sexuality or gender is only one part of a much more complicated story.

Good counselling begins by listening.

A student may ask whether feelings experienced today will necessarily remain the same. Another may be struggling with family circumstances, relationships, anxiety, or questions about identity. Someone else may simply want time to work things out.

These are not conversion practices. They are normal and healthy conversations which occur every day in schools.

The Bill provides particular protection for some conduct by health practitioners. The problem is that not everyone providing counselling or pastoral support is necessarily covered by that protection. A registered psychologist may therefore find himself or herself in a different legal position from a counsellor, social worker, chaplain, or wellbeing officer doing closely related work.

That distinction needs more careful thought.

Good counselling cannot operate properly if the conclusion must effectively be known before the conversation begins. A counsellor needs to be able to ask questions. A young person must be allowed to say, “I don’t know.” There must be room for uncertainty and accompaniment.

This should concern all schools, social service agencies and the unions to which staff members belong.

The danger is not simply that someone might eventually be prosecuted. The more immediate danger is defensive practice. Faced with uncertainty, a teacher may decide not to have the conversation. A counsellor may avoid asking a reasonable question because it could later be interpreted as an attempt to “suppress” something.

We have spent years encouraging young people who are struggling to speak to trusted adults. We should be very careful about creating legislation which makes trusted adults nervous about listening.

The law should make clear how schools and social service agencies are expected to navigate those responsibilities.

Parents themselves face a similar problem. The Bill protects a parent “discussing” sexual orientation or gender identity with a child. But parents do more than discuss a topic once. They make decisions about healthcare and counselling. They decide whether something should happen immediately or whether it might be prudent to wait and seek further advice.

There are also questions about grandparents, guardians, foster parents, and others who may have substantial responsibility for a child’s care.

Particularly serious is the Bill’s interaction with child-safety legislation. Conduct which falls within the definition of a conversion practice may have consequences under Tasmania’s reportable-conduct and child-safety frameworks.

Abuse must be reported. Children must be protected. On that there should be no disagreement.

But the legislation must distinguish clearly between abuse and a good-faith conversation with a child or adolescent. It should not depend upon uncertain definitions which could leave teachers, counsellors or parents wondering whether legitimate care may later be characterised as abuse.

There are other provisions which require close scrutiny.

The Bill creates new crimes relating to conversion practices, however it does not set a specific penalty for those crimes. The Criminal Code’s general sentencing provision could therefore permit a court to impose a sentence of up to 21 years’ imprisonment, depending on the circumstances of a case. When Parliament creates offences carrying consequences of that magnitude, definitions and fault elements must be exceptionally clear and penalties proportionate.

The Bill also imposes a positive duty upon every person to take reasonable and proportionate measures to eliminate conversion practices. Yet it is far from clear what an ordinary Tasmanian is expected to do to discharge that duty.

A new Commissioner would have extensive powers to investigate, require the production of documents, and compel people to attend. The interaction of those powers with confidential counselling records and other professional relationships requires much greater clarity.

The Bill also reaches into health and aged care by proposing amendments to the Health Complaints Act. This is significant because the legislation is not confined to a narrowly defined prohibited therapy. Its definitions and regulatory mechanisms intersect with healthcare, education, child safety, anti-discrimination law, and civil liability.

That breadth is precisely why careful drafting matters.

I remain concerned that such a broad regulatory structure could become a stalking horse for quite different disputes about health and aged-care provision in Tasmania. This is not a claim about anyone’s motives. It is a concern about the architecture of the legislation itself. Once broad definitions and regulatory mechanisms are placed across several areas of law, their effects may extend well beyond the immediate issue Parliament intended to address.

There is a straightforward way to approach this.

Identify the harmful practices which need to be prohibited. Define them carefully. Protect people from coercion and abuse. Make penalties proportionate to the harm involved. Ensure that professional counselling can remain genuinely exploratory. Give parents and schools clear guidance about their responsibilities. Make certain that child-protection laws catch abuse without capturing ordinary care.

Tasmania can prohibit harmful conversion practices.

The question Parliament must ask is whether this Bill does that with sufficient precision—or whether, in attempting to solve one problem, it creates several others.