Authority can be strengthened when it’s shared. 

In the theatre of politics, we—the audience—have a tendency to fixate on the lead. In Queensland, that’s the Premier. The one in the spotlight. The man in the hot seat.

After all, heavy is the head, and Premier David Crisafulli has become known for sharing the crown around—particularly with his Terry Mackenroth–style counterpart, Deputy Premier Jarrod Bleijie.

Many of you might remember the perfect tango between Premier Peter Beattie and Deputy Terry Mackenroth that helped them successfully win a third term. I don’t. I was just born then. But from what I hear, Premier David Crisafulli’s waltz with Mr Bleijie is quite reminiscent of the Beattie–Mackenroth partnership.

Why a waltz and not a tango? You heard the Treasurer’s budget: the Premier is determined to lead his government to a second term, and he’s acutely aware that he needs to distance himself from Campbell Newman’s slice-and-dice style of politics—which means he needs to take it slow in this first term.

When Mr Crisafulli won the election, he and his newly formed government knew they were in for a herculean task, having had zero access to the books in 11 years. The Adult Time, Adult Crime agenda was a saving grace in this regard. The then Opposition’s narrative on crime had cut through—so much so that Queensland voted Mr Crisafulli in because he seemed like a stabilising force against the backdrop of a chaotic, ‘disintegrating’ state.

But you can’t be the steady hand and be seen to destabilise the Opposition at the same time. That’s where Jarrod Bleijie’s roguish smile comes in. Mr Bleijie can take the heat, so Mr Crisafulli can stay above the fray.

And it’s working—quite well, actually. 

When Peter Beattie was Premier, he mastered retail politics. He was the people’s Premier—always accountable, the one you could picture at your BBQ or in your lounge during a crisis. But behind him, holding the map and calculator, was Terry Mackenroth. The ‘Silver Fox’ Treasurer. Fixer. Party elder. Unlike Mr Bleijie, the man was not flashy. But that didn’t matter. Beattie trusted Mackenroth to do the hard, often unpopular work of managing the books, negotiating with the unions, and steering policy through Cabinet.

That wasn’t just delegation—it was intentional dispersion of power. And it was effective. Voters saw stability. Ministers felt empowered. The party functioned.

That’s what makes the Crisafulli–Bleijie waltz more than just political choreography—it’s a deliberate strategy to strengthen authority through trust.

On Wednesday night, the government passed the Planning (Social Impact and Community Benefit) and Other Legislation Amendment Bill—a wide-ranging piece of legislation that fast-tracks the delivery of Olympic infrastructure and removes several planning and heritage hurdles.

The Olympics is a tectonic plate in Queensland politics—one wrong move could bring the house down on the LNP. So far, the broken election promise has played in its favour. But no one could have sold the recent ‘override at all costs’ clause better than the Deputy Premier, who basically told stakeholders, we build the stadiums, with or without you. Why? Because in the LNP’s political play, he is the antihero. So, who better to push a policy agenda forward for middle Queensland—even at the expense of other stakeholder groups? 

In fact, just yesterday we saw the Deputy Premier sign a federal funding agreement with the Minister for Infrastructure, Catherine King. But the dominant headline was Jarrod Bleijie’s sensational ultimatum to the International Olympic Committee: If it refuses to allow rowing to be held in Rockhampton’s Fitzroy River, it can foot the bill itself. Don’t get me wrong—the punters would have loved it. But true to form, the Deputy Premier stood stoic and defiant in the face of unrest. That’s why he was there.

That’s what makes the Crisafulli-Bleijie dynamic so effective. 

So much of what makes a good government comes down to public perception. You could have a revolutionary idea, but if you can’t sell it to the Queensland public—or they just don’t like you—your policy fails anyway. But if you’re able to distribute the weight of the eyes on you, the easier it is for any leader to work on the actual business of government and get policy through the door. 

It’s a leadership approach we haven’t seen in state politics for at least a couple of decades – where Premiers and Opposition Leaders dominate our screens, every debate and every announcement. But Mr Crisafulli seems to recognise the fruits of Mr Beattie’s approach: that leadership is a team sport, and that trust in your 2IC pays dividends. 

When the next election rears its head, Mr Crisafulli doesn’t want Queenslanders to just vote for him—his goal is that they vote for his government. It’s not about stepping back. It’s about knowing when to step aside so others can step up.