Donald Trump demands the resignation of Federal Reserve Chairman Jerome Powell
US President Donald Trump has demanded that Federal Reserve Chairman Jerome Powell 'resign immediately'.
Mr Trump appointed Mr Powell, who leads America's equivalent of our Reserve Bank, during his first term, but has since soured on him. He's repeatedly expressed frustration at the Federal Reserve for not cutting interest rates.
In remarks at a conference in Portugal this week, Mr Powell suggested Mr Trump's own policies had influenced the Fed's decisions.
'I think that's right,' he said when asked whether the President's tariffs were to blame.
'In effect, we went on hold when we saw the size of the tariffs, and essentially all inflation forecasts for the United States went up materially as a consequence of the tariffs.'
Mr Trump continues to insist the tariffs are not inflationary.
President Donald Trump disembarking from Air Force One. Picture:via AFP
Federal Reserve Chairman Jerome Powell. Picture: Mark Schiefelbein/AP
Having stated yesterday that 'anybody would be better' as Fed Chairman than Mr Powell, now the President has escalated the (mostly one-way) feud further.
Posting on social media, Mr Trump shared an article from Bloomberg, which reported on an accusation that Mr Powell lied to Congress during a Senate committee hearing last week.
Bill Pulte, head of the Federal Housing Finanace Agency, called Mr Powell's testimony about expensive renovations to the Fed's headquarters in Washington D.C. 'deceptive'.
'This is nothing short of malfeasance,' said Mr Pulte, adding that Mr Powell should be fired.
'Too Late, should resign immediately!!!' Mr Trump commented while sharing the story.
Earlier in the week, during one of her media briefings, White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt read out a note the President had written to Mr Powell.
The message was written on a list of the lowest central bank rates around the world.
'Jerome. You are, as usual, Too Late'. You have cost the US a fortune – and continue to do so – you should lower the rate – by a lot!' Mr Trump had scrawled using his usual Sharpie.
'Hundreds of billions of dollars being lost! No inflation.'
Mr Trump also shared an image of the note on social media.
At the aforementioned conference in Portugal, an annual forum hosted by the European Central Bank, Mr Powell said a US rate cut in July was neither 'on or off the table'.
'July will depend on the data. We will go meeting by meeting,' he stressed, adding that the Fed makes its decisions 'in a completely non-political way'.
'We are carefully watching the labour market ... I have a little more than ten months in office. All I want to deliver is an economy with price stability, maximum employment and financial stability. That is what keeps me awake at night. I want to hand over, to my successor, an economy in good shape.
Mr Powell's term ends next year. Clearly, however, Mr Trump wants him gone sooner.
Congress ponders Trump's 'Big, Beautiful Bill'
Meanwhile, tensions are simmering within MrTrump's Republican Party as he lobbies members of Congress to pass his much-hyped, and contentious, 'Big Beautiful Bill'.
The massive piece of budget legislation includes multiple elements of Mr Trump's domestic political agenda, including the extension of tax cuts, funding for immigration enforcement, and cuts to Medicaid, the government program that provides health insurance to lower-income Americans.
It has already passed through the Senate, and is now being considered by the House of Representatives. Mr Trump's party controls both chambers.
US President Donald Trump. Picture: Andrew Caballero-Reynolds/AFP
Yet the legislation's passage is no sure thing. Multiple Republicans have expressed opposition to it, citing forecasts that it will swell America's already considerable national debt by trillions more dollars.
The President, supported by Vice President J.D. Vance, spent a chunk of his day today personally lobbying members of Congress to vote for it.
'He's been working the phones pretty consistently,' an administration official told Politico.
'He is going to get it over the finish line.'
The stakes are high, and so are the tensions, as evidenced by some rather bad-tempered remarks from multiple members of Congress.
Exhibit A: Republican Congressman Derrick Van Orden, who represents a district in Wisconsin. He took umbrage at the suggestion, from a reporter, that House Republicans were being 'led by the nose' by Mr Trump.
'The President of the United States didn't give us an assignment,' Mr Van Orden said.
'We're not a bunch of little b**ches around here, OK? I'm a member of Congress. I represent almost 800,000 Wisconsinites.'
That said, Mr Van Orden's office later issued a statement stressing that 'President Trump is the leader of the GOP', and the Congressman 'looks forward to passing' the bill.
Exhibit B: Congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene, a MAGA favourite, who described the efforts to pass the 'Big Beautiful Bill' as a 's***show' and predicted there was 'no way' it would get enough votes.
Marjorie Taylor Greene. Picture:via AFP
'It is really a dire situation,' Ms Greene told the podcast War Room, hosted by Mr Trump's former senior White House adviser Steve Bannon.
'We're on a time clock that's been really set on us, so we have a lot of pressure.
'And then also, given the fact that there's 435 members of Congress and it's hard for us to get to an agreement on anything. So this whole thing is – I don't know what to call it. It's a s***show. And I'm sorry for saying that. I know we're not supposed to say that on the air, but that's truly what it is.'
Mr Trump wants the bill to be passed before the symbolic date of America's Independence Day, which falls on Friday.
He will need almost universal support from the Republican caucus, given the Democratic Party's seemingly unshiftable stance.
'This bill is a deal with the devil,' one of the opposition party's loudest voices, Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, said on the floor of the House.
'It explodes our national debt. It militarises our entire economy. And it strips away health care and basic dignity of the American people. For what? To give Elon Musk a tax break.
'We cannot stand for it, and we will not support it. You should be ashamed.'
Originally published as Donald Trump demands the resignation of Federal Reserve Chairman Jerome Powell
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Perth Now
38 minutes ago
- Perth Now
'We're here': Australia joins the race for US academics
Australia hopes to bring America's brightest minds Down Under as Donald Trump's research cuts spark a US brain drain. The US president has taken a chainsaw to science funding, slashing thousands of government grants and transforming the global state of research. Former Labor leader Bill Shorten, now vice-chancellor of the University of Canberra, said efforts by the Australian Academy of Science to attract American talent was good national co-ordination. "I'm very pro-American, but if their current government doesn't want some of their best to brightest minds, why should we let them go to Europe or Asia?" he told AAP. "We haven't invented this challenging environment for American higher education ... but that doesn't mean that we should sit back and watch the French, the Germans, the Asian nations, recruit these clever people without at least Australia saying 'we're here too'." The academy has designed a relocation package which includes research funding, access to facilities, family relocation support and visa acceleration in a bid to recruit leading US scientists and Australians returning home. About 70 people have already indicated interest. Some were directly impacted by the Trump administration's budget cuts and lost either their positions or support for their areas of research. Though there have been cuts across a range of disciplines, some of the more significant slashes have been applied to areas such as virology and immunology, alongside cuts to the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration which enables researchers to forecast weather and model climate change. Other interested researchers have seen the havoc wreaked on American academia and become "disillusioned or despairing" of their ability to pursue their interests in the US, Australian Academy of Science chief executive Anna-Maria Arabia said. By comparison, Australia's research landscape is more stable and less politically driven. "Whilst it's a volatile situation and quite an unfortunate one that we are experiencing, there is a tremendous opportunity for Australia," she told AAP. By bringing more to Australia, they can contribute to research and development which can eventually open up new economic sectors, new trade potential and a plethora of other benefits, Australian Academy of Technological Sciences and Engineering chief executive Kylie Walker said. "You're looking at a decade or more to show benefits from that investment, but when they come - my goodness - they come," she told AAP. Australia isn't the only nation hoping to capitalise on Mr Trump's attack on academia. His cuts have ignited a "global race" for science and technology talent, and Australia's universities, research organisations and agencies such as the CSIRO are all trying to attract them. Almost half of the academy's fellows, which are Australia's most distinguished scientists, were born overseas and many had a multiplier effect when they arrived in Australia as they trained the next generation and helped seed industries. "This is the Australian story, this is what science is in Australia," Ms Arabia said. "It's multicultural, it's of the highest standard, it's undertaken in a supportive environment and in a democratic environment where we nurture science and our scientists."
Sydney Morning Herald
2 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
Iran's latest decision reveals flaw in Trump's big plan
If before the strike Iran seemed able to race for a bomb but was not yet quite ready, after the strike it is dependent on playing a giant game of nuclear three-card monte. Iran will keep shuffling its nuclear assets around, as the Mossad, US intelligence agencies and the banned UN inspectors will constantly be looking for human intelligence or satellite evidence of the tunnels and caves where the projects might be hidden. 'After the strike the old problem remains: Iran has enriched uranium, it has centrifuges and there are no inspectors,' said Jake Sullivan, who helped refine strike plans against the Iranian program when he served as national security adviser under president Joe Biden, who decided against using them. 'With mowing the lawn, you have uncertainty, instability and continued military action,' he said. 'Yet if you try to do a deal, President Trump will confront the same problem he had before: Do you insist on complete dismantlement, which Iran probably won't agree to even now? Or try to contain the program,' allowing for some form of low-level, highly inspected enrichment, 'in a way that gives you confidence they can't go for a nuke?' The Pentagon is not exactly encouraging that confidence. Its chief spokesperson, Sean Parnell, said on Wednesday (Thursday AEST) that he believed Iran's nuclear program had been pushed back 'probably closer to two years' – an assessment that, if accurate, would mean that Trump bought less time with the attack than president Barack Obama did when he signed the 2015 accord that froze Iran's program. With their main production facilities buried beneath the rubble, the only leverage the Iranians have these days is the suggestion – with no proof – that their stockpile of 10 or so bombs' worth of fuel survived, and their surviving nuclear scientists have access to it. Maybe they are bluffing. But it is the best card they have to play. And the only way to be sure, Sullivan noted, is 'with a deal, one that ensures every inch of the program is inspected'. Other experts agree. 'We can't yet judge how likely the covert nuclear weapons production scenario really is,' said Robert Einhorn, a former US diplomat and Brookings Institution nuclear expert who dealt with the Iranian program a decade ago. But, he noted, 'it is a potential pathway for Iran building a small nuclear arsenal relatively soon, and so we must do what we can to block it', chiefly getting International Atomic Energy Agency monitors back into the country's widely distributed nuclear facilities, including two suspected new enrichment centres. Iranian officials have accused the agency's director-general, Rafael Mariano Grossi, of complicity in the attacks. Grossi says he had no involvement or advance warning. Early talk of a meeting between Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi and Trump's special envoy, Steve Witkoff, to reach a post-strike nuclear deal – presumably a more restrictive one than was on the table before the attack – has melted away, at least for now. The Iranians insist they want assurances they will not be attacked during negotiations again. It is unclear that they would believe such a commitment even if it is offered, since Trump declared in mid-June that he was giving them two weeks to respond to a final US offer. The B-2 bombers were over their targets two days later. With Iran's leaders portraying the end of the conflict with Israel as a victory, and downplaying the damage done by US strikes, experts see little hope of an accord that would satisfy both sides. 'They are not going to agree to unconditional surrender next week or even next month,' said Karim Sadjadpour, an Iran scholar at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, using the term Trump employed before he ordered military action. 'I think that's a process which plays out the more we tighten the economic grip on their ability to export oil.' The central question, of course, is what lesson the Iranians emerge with as they survey the damage done. Trump and Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth have declared there is only one lesson for the Iranians: their nuclear program is over. That is why Trump and Hegseth are so invested in the narrative that the program was 'obliterated', suggesting it could never be revived. Loading Most experts expect Iran to come to a different conclusion; that countries that inch toward a nuclear weapon – but stop short of crossing the line, as Iran did – get bombed. In contrast, countries that race for an arsenal do not. The Israelis bombed the Osirak reactor in 1981 to keep Iraq from getting the bomb, though Saddam Hussein resurrected the program before the first Gulf War, only to have it discovered and dismantled. (He famously did not build it anew before the US-led invasion in 2003.) A little more than two decades later, Muammar Gaddafi gave up his nascent nuclear program, before many of the components were unboxed, a move he may have regretted as he was chased across Libya and killed eight years later. In 2007, Israeli jets took out a Syrian nuclear reactor that was being constructed with the help of North Korea, to prevent the Assad government from going down the nuclear road. In all three cases, the countries had not yet made it to the cusp of a bomb. Loading Iran may conclude from the events of the past 10 days that its wiser choice for the future is to follow the path of North Korea. Rather than walk up to the nuclear line, it stepped over it, conducting its first nuclear test in 2006, when president George W. Bush was in office. Since then, North Korea has developed an arsenal of 60 or more nuclear weapons, experts say, and it is creeping up on a capability to reach the United States with its missiles – one of the reasons Trump is pushing so hard for a 'Golden Dome' defensive shield. One former senior intelligence official noted that if Iran already had nuclear weapons, rather than inching toward them, neither Israel nor the United States would have taken the risk of attacking. It is a mistake, he added, that the Iranians are not likely to make twice.
The Advertiser
4 hours ago
- The Advertiser
Does Sir Joh remind you of someone else?
Joh - the Last King of Queensland MA 15+, 98 minutes, Stan 4 Stars What was it about Joh Bjelke-Petersen, the outlandish state premier who drove a tractor through the democratic process in Queensland and then made a move on Canberra? The string of colourful, catchy phrases that people use to nail his outsize personality in this new documentary profile range from force of nature to corrupt bastard, with one standout. That Joh wrote the playbook for Trump. That's it. As we keep asking ourselves, as though in the grip of OCD, how the US could have come up with such a president, twice, this film is particularly timely. While it's unlikely Trump noted the remarkable success Down Under of the state's National Party leader from 1968 to 1987, it seems fair to say that these two men, similar in typology, share a political mindset that developed while they built their business empires with free rein. This is a timely political documentary, replete with archival footage, interviews with members of the Bjelke-Petersen family, and a wide range of expert opinion. Director Kriv Stenders, who shares screenwriting credits with author and journalist Matthew Condon, offers a portrait of a politician whose influence was long-lasting, and polarising. A touch of docudrama appears every now and then in scenes with actor Richard Roxburgh as Joh, reminding us of his commanding personality, his fumbling speaking style and slight limp. These scenes reimagine Joh's final days in power, inspired by the fact that he actually did lock himself in his office, refusing to accept that he had been stood down. It is very effective, as Roxburgh prowls the stage in declaratory mode, justifying his character's actions, insisting on the value of his legacy. The opening sequences didn't need to be so emphatic but the tone quickly fades, in the transition to interviews with Joh's son and daughters providing insight into the family man. A rural upbringing in tough circumstances when he helped his father with the milking before school, had developed a work ethic and approach to problem-solving. He left school early anyway and forged a thriving business in clearing bushland across the Downs. There was some peanut farming on the side, but it was his bush clearing business with tractors and anchor chain that made him a wealthy man. From sun-up until sundown and into the night, it was a solitary life until his 30s, when he married. Some more on his wife Flo, who became a politician in her own right, would have been a further interesting dimension. There is an impressive line-up of expert opinion assembled here. There are contributions from journalists Quentin Dempster and Chris Masters, political analyst Amy Remeikis, lawyer Terry O'Gorman, psephologist Antony Green, historian Frank Bongiorno and fellow Queensland politicians Bob Katter and David Littleproud. It is almost a surfeit of material for a feature of standard running time. A limited series would have also worked well. The reflections on Bjelke-Petersen's influence on Queenslanders in how they were encouraged to see themselves are intriguing. Authoritarian towards opposition forces in its own community, his regime polarised the Queensland community for decades. The gerrymander, by which country votes were worth more than city votes, kept him in power while he fanned hostility towards the federal system. Long years in power seemed to go to Bjelke-Petersen's head as he quelled the anti-apartheid protesters during a tour by the Springboks declaring a state of emergency. The footage of the police crackdown show how vicious their response was. Over an impressive career, filmmaker Stenders has shown considerable range, from the lovable family favourite Red Dog to the recent menacing political drama The Correspondent. The same can be said of Condon, author of a biography of Terry Lewis, a former Queensland commissioner of police under Bjelke-Petersen who was jailed for corruption. If the doco has insufficient detail on how Joh and his supporters were able to maintain a rigged state electoral system to stay in power, it is completely clear about the culture of police corruption that had taken hold in Queensland. Joh was never found legally responsible for the rot, but it's hard to accept that he was unaware of it and didn't manipulate it for his own purposes. As someone observes, Joh's concept of democracy was that he'd been voted for, so he could do what he wished. Sounds familiar. Joh - the Last King of Queensland MA 15+, 98 minutes, Stan 4 Stars What was it about Joh Bjelke-Petersen, the outlandish state premier who drove a tractor through the democratic process in Queensland and then made a move on Canberra? The string of colourful, catchy phrases that people use to nail his outsize personality in this new documentary profile range from force of nature to corrupt bastard, with one standout. That Joh wrote the playbook for Trump. That's it. As we keep asking ourselves, as though in the grip of OCD, how the US could have come up with such a president, twice, this film is particularly timely. While it's unlikely Trump noted the remarkable success Down Under of the state's National Party leader from 1968 to 1987, it seems fair to say that these two men, similar in typology, share a political mindset that developed while they built their business empires with free rein. This is a timely political documentary, replete with archival footage, interviews with members of the Bjelke-Petersen family, and a wide range of expert opinion. Director Kriv Stenders, who shares screenwriting credits with author and journalist Matthew Condon, offers a portrait of a politician whose influence was long-lasting, and polarising. A touch of docudrama appears every now and then in scenes with actor Richard Roxburgh as Joh, reminding us of his commanding personality, his fumbling speaking style and slight limp. These scenes reimagine Joh's final days in power, inspired by the fact that he actually did lock himself in his office, refusing to accept that he had been stood down. It is very effective, as Roxburgh prowls the stage in declaratory mode, justifying his character's actions, insisting on the value of his legacy. The opening sequences didn't need to be so emphatic but the tone quickly fades, in the transition to interviews with Joh's son and daughters providing insight into the family man. A rural upbringing in tough circumstances when he helped his father with the milking before school, had developed a work ethic and approach to problem-solving. He left school early anyway and forged a thriving business in clearing bushland across the Downs. There was some peanut farming on the side, but it was his bush clearing business with tractors and anchor chain that made him a wealthy man. From sun-up until sundown and into the night, it was a solitary life until his 30s, when he married. Some more on his wife Flo, who became a politician in her own right, would have been a further interesting dimension. There is an impressive line-up of expert opinion assembled here. There are contributions from journalists Quentin Dempster and Chris Masters, political analyst Amy Remeikis, lawyer Terry O'Gorman, psephologist Antony Green, historian Frank Bongiorno and fellow Queensland politicians Bob Katter and David Littleproud. It is almost a surfeit of material for a feature of standard running time. A limited series would have also worked well. The reflections on Bjelke-Petersen's influence on Queenslanders in how they were encouraged to see themselves are intriguing. Authoritarian towards opposition forces in its own community, his regime polarised the Queensland community for decades. The gerrymander, by which country votes were worth more than city votes, kept him in power while he fanned hostility towards the federal system. Long years in power seemed to go to Bjelke-Petersen's head as he quelled the anti-apartheid protesters during a tour by the Springboks declaring a state of emergency. The footage of the police crackdown show how vicious their response was. Over an impressive career, filmmaker Stenders has shown considerable range, from the lovable family favourite Red Dog to the recent menacing political drama The Correspondent. The same can be said of Condon, author of a biography of Terry Lewis, a former Queensland commissioner of police under Bjelke-Petersen who was jailed for corruption. If the doco has insufficient detail on how Joh and his supporters were able to maintain a rigged state electoral system to stay in power, it is completely clear about the culture of police corruption that had taken hold in Queensland. Joh was never found legally responsible for the rot, but it's hard to accept that he was unaware of it and didn't manipulate it for his own purposes. As someone observes, Joh's concept of democracy was that he'd been voted for, so he could do what he wished. Sounds familiar. Joh - the Last King of Queensland MA 15+, 98 minutes, Stan 4 Stars What was it about Joh Bjelke-Petersen, the outlandish state premier who drove a tractor through the democratic process in Queensland and then made a move on Canberra? The string of colourful, catchy phrases that people use to nail his outsize personality in this new documentary profile range from force of nature to corrupt bastard, with one standout. That Joh wrote the playbook for Trump. That's it. As we keep asking ourselves, as though in the grip of OCD, how the US could have come up with such a president, twice, this film is particularly timely. While it's unlikely Trump noted the remarkable success Down Under of the state's National Party leader from 1968 to 1987, it seems fair to say that these two men, similar in typology, share a political mindset that developed while they built their business empires with free rein. This is a timely political documentary, replete with archival footage, interviews with members of the Bjelke-Petersen family, and a wide range of expert opinion. Director Kriv Stenders, who shares screenwriting credits with author and journalist Matthew Condon, offers a portrait of a politician whose influence was long-lasting, and polarising. A touch of docudrama appears every now and then in scenes with actor Richard Roxburgh as Joh, reminding us of his commanding personality, his fumbling speaking style and slight limp. These scenes reimagine Joh's final days in power, inspired by the fact that he actually did lock himself in his office, refusing to accept that he had been stood down. It is very effective, as Roxburgh prowls the stage in declaratory mode, justifying his character's actions, insisting on the value of his legacy. The opening sequences didn't need to be so emphatic but the tone quickly fades, in the transition to interviews with Joh's son and daughters providing insight into the family man. A rural upbringing in tough circumstances when he helped his father with the milking before school, had developed a work ethic and approach to problem-solving. He left school early anyway and forged a thriving business in clearing bushland across the Downs. There was some peanut farming on the side, but it was his bush clearing business with tractors and anchor chain that made him a wealthy man. From sun-up until sundown and into the night, it was a solitary life until his 30s, when he married. Some more on his wife Flo, who became a politician in her own right, would have been a further interesting dimension. There is an impressive line-up of expert opinion assembled here. There are contributions from journalists Quentin Dempster and Chris Masters, political analyst Amy Remeikis, lawyer Terry O'Gorman, psephologist Antony Green, historian Frank Bongiorno and fellow Queensland politicians Bob Katter and David Littleproud. It is almost a surfeit of material for a feature of standard running time. A limited series would have also worked well. The reflections on Bjelke-Petersen's influence on Queenslanders in how they were encouraged to see themselves are intriguing. Authoritarian towards opposition forces in its own community, his regime polarised the Queensland community for decades. The gerrymander, by which country votes were worth more than city votes, kept him in power while he fanned hostility towards the federal system. Long years in power seemed to go to Bjelke-Petersen's head as he quelled the anti-apartheid protesters during a tour by the Springboks declaring a state of emergency. The footage of the police crackdown show how vicious their response was. Over an impressive career, filmmaker Stenders has shown considerable range, from the lovable family favourite Red Dog to the recent menacing political drama The Correspondent. The same can be said of Condon, author of a biography of Terry Lewis, a former Queensland commissioner of police under Bjelke-Petersen who was jailed for corruption. If the doco has insufficient detail on how Joh and his supporters were able to maintain a rigged state electoral system to stay in power, it is completely clear about the culture of police corruption that had taken hold in Queensland. Joh was never found legally responsible for the rot, but it's hard to accept that he was unaware of it and didn't manipulate it for his own purposes. As someone observes, Joh's concept of democracy was that he'd been voted for, so he could do what he wished. Sounds familiar. Joh - the Last King of Queensland MA 15+, 98 minutes, Stan 4 Stars What was it about Joh Bjelke-Petersen, the outlandish state premier who drove a tractor through the democratic process in Queensland and then made a move on Canberra? The string of colourful, catchy phrases that people use to nail his outsize personality in this new documentary profile range from force of nature to corrupt bastard, with one standout. That Joh wrote the playbook for Trump. That's it. As we keep asking ourselves, as though in the grip of OCD, how the US could have come up with such a president, twice, this film is particularly timely. While it's unlikely Trump noted the remarkable success Down Under of the state's National Party leader from 1968 to 1987, it seems fair to say that these two men, similar in typology, share a political mindset that developed while they built their business empires with free rein. This is a timely political documentary, replete with archival footage, interviews with members of the Bjelke-Petersen family, and a wide range of expert opinion. Director Kriv Stenders, who shares screenwriting credits with author and journalist Matthew Condon, offers a portrait of a politician whose influence was long-lasting, and polarising. A touch of docudrama appears every now and then in scenes with actor Richard Roxburgh as Joh, reminding us of his commanding personality, his fumbling speaking style and slight limp. These scenes reimagine Joh's final days in power, inspired by the fact that he actually did lock himself in his office, refusing to accept that he had been stood down. It is very effective, as Roxburgh prowls the stage in declaratory mode, justifying his character's actions, insisting on the value of his legacy. The opening sequences didn't need to be so emphatic but the tone quickly fades, in the transition to interviews with Joh's son and daughters providing insight into the family man. A rural upbringing in tough circumstances when he helped his father with the milking before school, had developed a work ethic and approach to problem-solving. He left school early anyway and forged a thriving business in clearing bushland across the Downs. There was some peanut farming on the side, but it was his bush clearing business with tractors and anchor chain that made him a wealthy man. From sun-up until sundown and into the night, it was a solitary life until his 30s, when he married. Some more on his wife Flo, who became a politician in her own right, would have been a further interesting dimension. There is an impressive line-up of expert opinion assembled here. There are contributions from journalists Quentin Dempster and Chris Masters, political analyst Amy Remeikis, lawyer Terry O'Gorman, psephologist Antony Green, historian Frank Bongiorno and fellow Queensland politicians Bob Katter and David Littleproud. It is almost a surfeit of material for a feature of standard running time. A limited series would have also worked well. The reflections on Bjelke-Petersen's influence on Queenslanders in how they were encouraged to see themselves are intriguing. Authoritarian towards opposition forces in its own community, his regime polarised the Queensland community for decades. The gerrymander, by which country votes were worth more than city votes, kept him in power while he fanned hostility towards the federal system. Long years in power seemed to go to Bjelke-Petersen's head as he quelled the anti-apartheid protesters during a tour by the Springboks declaring a state of emergency. The footage of the police crackdown show how vicious their response was. Over an impressive career, filmmaker Stenders has shown considerable range, from the lovable family favourite Red Dog to the recent menacing political drama The Correspondent. The same can be said of Condon, author of a biography of Terry Lewis, a former Queensland commissioner of police under Bjelke-Petersen who was jailed for corruption. If the doco has insufficient detail on how Joh and his supporters were able to maintain a rigged state electoral system to stay in power, it is completely clear about the culture of police corruption that had taken hold in Queensland. Joh was never found legally responsible for the rot, but it's hard to accept that he was unaware of it and didn't manipulate it for his own purposes. As someone observes, Joh's concept of democracy was that he'd been voted for, so he could do what he wished. Sounds familiar.
