The Nightly On Leadership: Kellie Sloane, leader of the NSW Liberal Party, on her pivot to politics

Kellie Sloane is, by her own admission, someone who “likes to jump in the deep end”.

But when the former journalist and recreational surfer entered politics in 2022, she had no way of knowing that within the space of four years, she would be elected leader of the New South Wales Liberal Party.

Three days before Sloane took the reins on November 21 last year, Jess Wilson had been announced as the new leader of the Victorian Liberal Party. And on December 8, Ashton Hurn would assume the same role in South Australia.

For a political party that has come under intense scrutiny about how it supports women and attracts female voters, the fresh wave of female leaders was a positive step change for the Liberals.

Not surprisingly, the trio were quick to reach out and form a group chat to support one another.

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“Behind every woman who does something big is a tribe of other women supporting her,” Sloane declared in her first speech to Parliament.

Wilson and Hurn, the two individuals who can best understand what Sloane is going through, form part of that tribe, despite the fact their group chat has gone quiet as the demands of their respective roles chew into whatever free time they once had.

Sloane, 53, Wilson and Hurn, both 35, are all first-term politicians whose parties elevated them to the top job during tough times for oppositions.

Liberal Party elder Pru Goward wrote at the time that there was more to boosting female representation than picking women as leaders, but doing so “makes it harder for the Left to argue that the Liberal Party is a misogynistic cabal”.

They’ll each fight an election over the next year, starting with South Australia in March then Victoria in November.

Sloane’s battle in NSW in March 2027, against a popular first-term Labor government led by Chris Minns, is the final one.

Sloane is determined to use her time wisely.

“I believe you can be a strong leader, you can lead from opposition, and that’s exactly what we’ve been doing,” she says.

“Strong opposition is absolutely critical not just to holding the Government to account, but making sure that every time they develop a policy, they’re going to be saying, ‘How’s Kellie going to respond? How’s the Opposition going to respond?’ and sharpening their pencils and making sure that it’s right.”

She acknowledges her optimism about the power of opposition may be a function of not having been in government — “I don’t know what I’m missing out on yet” — but she is determined to change that.

“I don’t want to be in this role and never be in government,” she says from her office on the 10th floor of the Macquarie Street parliament building.

“But in the meantime, I’m not going to waste a moment sitting on the Opposition benches wishing for something we don’t have.”

Goward says it is hard to gauge whether the Liberals under Sloane could snatch government back with a year to go until the election, but she is “certainly going to save the furniture”.

“The times have suited governments with big crises, and it’s hard for oppositions to get their heads up,” Goward says.

But the former MP says Sloane has started well and shown good judgement.

“She has extraordinary presence — and she has the confidence to use it,” Goward says.

That presence has helped Sloane achieve what can only be described as a meteoric rise.

She was elected to the NSW Parliament at the March 2023 poll that saw the Coalition turfed out of office after its longest period in government.

Mark Speakman immediately elevated her to the shadow cabinet, initially in the environment portfolio, then health.

And when disquiet among the ranks about his leadership grew too loud to ignore, Speakman stepped aside and endorsed Sloane as his successor. She was elected unopposed as Opposition Leader.

It was also the culmination of a “slow burn” over decades that saw her transform from a journalist fascinated with politics to a practitioner.

Sloane grew up in South Australia (coincidentally, she and Hurn attended the same high school in Barossa Valley town Nuriootpa, although not at the same time) to parents who were steeped in community and service.

Her father Bob held a variety of community leadership positions, including four years as mayor of the Barossa council, while her mother Robyn was part of sports and arts clubs and groups such as Apex and Rotary.

A career in journalism beckoned and Sloane’s first interview, in the same week she turned 18, was with then South Australian premier John Bannon. It was the spark that lit the fire.

“From that moment, I was hooked on politics, I guess, in terms of being an observer and watching the impact that members of parliament can make, the power they have for good and for bad, and how the decisions they make impact communities and people’s lives,” she says.

Life as a reporter took her to nearly every Australian broadcaster and she covered everything from bushfires, floods and terrorist events to the antics of politicians and celebrities.

“I covered the Oscars and danced with John Travolta in his private jet . . . I bet that not too many people say that in their inaugural speech,” she told her new colleagues in the NSW Parliament. The shift from journalism to politics was driven by a desire to have a more active role in positive change.

“It was a privilege to be able to tell those stories, but increasingly I was frustrated about not being able to have an active role in the change that I wanted to see in communities,” she says.

“I care more about making a difference, about having influence, than I do about the power of the position, and so I’m very centred when it comes to what I’m here for and what I want to deliver.”

Initially, she scratched that itch with a shift into the not-for-profit space, working for Life Education in NSW, then as its national chief executive.

At a funding announcement for Life Education with then NSW premier Gladys Berejiklian, education minister Rob Stokes asked Sloane if she’d ever thought about going into politics.

“That was the first time someone in politics had asked me that question,” Sloane says.

It proved pivotal.

Sloane, a Theodore Roosevelt fan — her golden retriever Teddy is named in his honour — had earlier stuck a quote by the US president to her fridge to inspire her three sons, who are now aged 20, 18 and 14. It read: “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena.”

She realised those words could be applied to her own life, and decided to put her hand up for preselection to run in Berejiklian’s former seat of Willoughby in the 2022 by-election.

That tilt was unsuccessful, but it drew the attention of another former premier, Mike Baird, and senior Liberals.

The following year, she contested and won the seat of Vaucluse, which covers Sydney’s eastern suburbs including Bondi, Watsons Bay, Point Piper and Woollahra.

“Here I am in the arena — or the bearpit — trying to not be a sideline critic,” she said in her first speech.

When she was asked again to step up, to become the leader, she did that, too — though not without some trepidation.

“I knew I was about to go on a rollercoaster ride. And there was that feeling in my stomach of ‘hold on’,” she laughs, “but that I really wanted to do it.”

The full extent of what she’d signed up for hit home in the most horrible way three weeks later.

Sloane was at a Chanukah event in Dover Heights on December 14 when the news came in that there was shooting at nearby Bondi Beach.

She was told her security was at risk so she jumped into the nearest car — a Jewish community ambulance.

There were two points when she could have bailed: when driver Rabbi Mendy Litzman asked if she was sure she wanted to accompany him to the shooting site, and again when they arrived.

She stayed, helping the first responders give first aid.

“It was a very live situation,” she says.

“When you see people seriously injured, and there were dozens of them when I came in, there’s no way I could turn my back on that. There’s no way I was going to sit in that ambulance and wait to be evacuated. It was not a decision I even contemplated for a moment.”

Sloane’s voice changes when she recalls the horrific evening. The images of that night will haunt her forever, she says, but she wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

For her, there is no distinction between Kellie Sloane, Leader of the Opposition, and Kellie Sloane, Bondi local; even while pivoting from providing first aid and care to taking a police briefing and facing the media.

“No one could imagine that situation. To be leaving people and leaving that scene and having to walk out and face the TV cameras, when, quite honestly, I thought I could barely breathe,” she says.

“How on earth could I articulate what had just happened and the message I wanted to give to the community?

“It felt like an impossible thing for a person, for the local member, let alone being the Opposition Leader in that moment as well.”

Sloane says as soon as she feels there is a separation between who she is as a person and as a politician is the day “I need to walk out of here”.

Calm and charismatic, Sloane fills her rare downtime by “jumping in the surf at Bondi” or scuba diving — “a passion of mine but I’m doing it less and less lately”.

She also enjoys walking Teddy, catching up with girlfriends or watching her sons play sport.

“And that’s enough for now,” she says.

While there is no denying the demands of the job, she admits it suits her personality.

“I can’t sit still,” she says. “My mind ticks the whole time, and this is a job where you really can’t switch off. So it is just as well that I love that.”

She agrees that women too often wait to be asked to step into leadership roles.

“You think so often, should I, could I, can I? And we don’t think about why we should and why we must,” she says, adding that she asked herself the same things about taking on the Liberal Party leadership.

Ultimately, she thinks, this means that when women do step up they are “more than ready . . . to have a red-hot crack”.

“They’ve been around the block a few times. They’ve been tested. They’ve been determined to improve their capacity and their capability. They’ve formed groups of support and advisers,” she says.

After her own introspection, she realised that she did have something to contribute and needed only to believe in herself as her colleagues believed in her.

“You don’t get to choose your timing in politics — people tell me that over and over — sometimes the timing chooses you and this is the moment where I’m supposed to be here making the contribution I really was keen to make,” she says.

“I’ve always been someone who has jumped in the deep end, but made sure I was prepared. That self-critique, that self-examination, has always helped me be successful in the roles I’ve decided to take on.

“So rather than that being a flaw, I think that trepidation has given me the self-reflection and made me do my homework.

“Now that I’m here, I feel this is where I’m supposed to be right now.”

Her influences are varied, ranging from her grandmothers and great-grandmothers, who were Depression-era small business owners, to Dame Marie Bashir, who exemplified leadership with grace and compassion, and died days before Sloane spoke with The Nightly On.

She admires Margaret Thatcher’s resolve, determination and passion to change her country. And yet she is also inspired by Jacinda Ardern’s model of leadership that showed there was space for kindness and compassion.

Sloane hopes that others see her as someone who is authentic and kind, “a breath of fresh air”, but also strong, someone who won’t back down from fighting for the interests of people right across NSW.

“If I can make a big difference and leave with integrity, that’s the most important thing to me,” she says.