Dropsy is a puff. It is not the first time he has done it. I can bring a witness who will swear that he got ten bob from a black fellow that stuffed him. I knew what he wanted when he went up the stairs so I followed him … there are plenty of others in Brisbane who do it besides us mob, so I am not the first.

— Conversation between Albert McNamara and Police Constable Lipp, Brisbane, 1905

This paper provides a comparative perspective on the development of tourism in Queensland through analysing the history of tourism in Hawaii. Both Queensland and Hawaii are heavily dependent on tourism, with the future of tourism being a constant focus of public debate in each case. Since Hawaii embarked on tourism development decades before Queensland, the history of Hawaiian tourism may present some important lessons for tourism in Queensland. Also, Hawaii is Queensland's most important competitor for the Japanese and emerging Asian markets (such as South Korea, Taiwan and mainland China) in sun-and-surf tourism.

In Queensland today, a class action is being considered against the state government to recover and return to Aboriginal control, cash and assets which were acquired from Aboriginal earnings by the Aboriginal affairs department over a period of 60 odd years. In the process of three years' research into the workings of Queensland's Aboriginal department I have accumulated a range of information relevant to this matter. This summary provides a historical context within the constraints of incidental material which was available to me. I will canvass two separate, but interlocking, issues: the department's control of wages and savings accounts; and the government's handling of the trust funds built up from the accumulated, and compulsorily acquired, earnings of thousands of Aboriginal men and women.

The early development of Queensland's musical culture has only been partly documented. Despite a number of general surveys and a few specialist publications in recent decades, the largest body of research, dating mostly from the 1970s and 1980s in the form of academic dissertations, remains unpublished. As I demonstrated in a recent article for this journal, the narrative of Queensland's music can be traced in various ways, including focusing either on a specific organisation or ‘cause’ – phenomena that in turn interface with the efforts of countless individuals. An alternative strategy is to survey a specific genre of music-making, where likewise a diverse range of performers, repertoire, venues and events are part of the mix. This article endeavours to trace the development of chamber music in colonial Queensland as an important subset of an active concert life that included numerous popular entertainers, touring artists and musical-theatrical troupes. Support of chamber music, a so-called ‘high-class’ genre, was also viewed by some colonists as an emblem or barometer of increasing cultural self-worth, particularly in the two decades leading up to Federation.

Letizia de Rosa's father first arrived in Melbourne in the late 1940s as a ‘runaway’, disembarking from a ship where he was working as a bartender. According to Letizia, the working conditions on the ship were exploitative and his father's decision to leave the ship was an act of protest and perhaps even activism. Soon he found himself in a country whose language he could not speak, alone and worried about being found by the authorities:

While food historians have begun to focus attention on world's fairs, Vaccaro's detailed study of food at the 1904 World Fair in St Louis (2004) is at the vanguard of publishing in this area. Similarly, although the intense interest in culinary matters that is now identified as ‘foodie’ culture was developing in Australia in the 1980s, little attention has concentrated on this aspect of Brisbane's World Expo '88 (also widely known simply as ‘Expo '88’), which was staged from April to October 1988 as part of the national Bicentennial celebrations. Expo '88 dominated local headlines and became a part of the national imagination during the bicentennial year but, although commentators at the time predicted that it would ‘doubtless be a focus of research for a long time to come’ (Day 1988: iv), other matters have since dominated reflection about this period of recent Australian history. Yet food was specified in the ‘Cultural and Entertainment’ category of one of the three exposition's official sub-themes of ‘Leisure: The Universal Pastime’, and did play a number of important roles in and at Expo '88. Moreover, Robinson has identified Expo '88 as one of the ‘plethora of social, economic, cultural and political determinants’ that explains the diversity of cuisines available in Brisbane today (2007: 71).

The articulation of a ‘Smart State’ strategy by the Beattie and Bligh governments since 1998 represents, in large part, the continuation of a long Queensland tradition, in which governments have secured legitimacy by fostering economic growth and employment. For Queensland Labor, however, ‘Smart State’ programs also represented a key survival strategy as Labor's historic base among workers employed in agriculture, mining and manufacturing shrank into political insignificance. By 2009–10, these three sectors together employed only one worker in seven (Queensland Treasury 2010, p. 16). For this reason, in coming to office in September 2007, Anna Bligh sought both to continue and transcend the ‘Smart State’ strategy of her predecessor. In a series of policy documents launched with considerable fanfare in 2008–09 — ‘Towards Q2’, the ‘Smart Industry Policy and Decision Making Framework’ and the ‘Queensland Renewable Energy Plan’ — Bligh outlined her own vision for Queensland. Central to this vision was the embracing of a ‘green’ agenda — one that tapped into concerns shared by many of Queensland's growing cohort of middle-class professionals. In her first two years in office, Bligh pledged to continue the $9 billion Water Grid in the state's south-east corner, reduce greenhouse gas emissions by one-third, spend $300 million on ‘clean coal’ power generation and provide rebates for households installing solar hot water systems. All of this added considerably to the budget commitments made under Beattie. In highlighting its program for Queensland in 2008, the Bligh government proudly declared that it was ‘set to invest $17 billion’ in the ensuing year (Department of Premier and Cabinet 2008, p. 10).

Queensland's 2017 state election resulted in Annastacia Palaszczuk's Labor government being returned with a slim majority. While not a resounding victory, the result seemingly vindicated the premier's decision to head to an early election, and reinforced her standing in a succession of opinion polls as ‘preferred premier’ for most voters. The result also halted the short sequence of Queensland governments being voted out of office in no uncertain terms by a supposedly volatile electorate. The extent to which Labor's recent electoral success in Queensland — and the quelling of that volatility — can be attributed to Palaszczuk's leadership is still open to debate. It is instructive, though, to note the differences in leadership and campaigning styles between Palaszczuk and her opponents, which saw her drag a decimated Labor Party back to office after a single term in opposition, then saw it returned with a working parliamentary majority. This article highlights those differences over the last term of government, contrasting the performance of the two major parties in Queensland in terms of their leadership and election campaign approaches. The analysis helps to explain some of the reasons for the respective parties’ recent electoral showings.

SoundSurfers is a youth-led program of Foróige Ireland that provides a safe, dynamic and creative environment for young people aged from ten to eighteen years to empower themselves through music technology, practice and public performance. This article analyses young people's experiences of SoundSurfers within the context of recent research on effective youth programs. It demonstrates how the program engages young people from disadvantaged backgrounds and describes how national education organisations such as Camara Education Ireland and its TechSpace program can successfully equip skilled youth workers for this work. By fostering a diverse community of participants supported by skilled youth workers, young people can develop mutual respect and share common interests through peer-supported activities. The authors illustrate how offering mainstream creative provision enables a process that builds interdependence and empathy in young people. The SoundSurfers inter-agency approach is also highlighted to emphasise the positive opportunities and outcomes that can arise from this approach.

When a history of the Australian environment movement was published several years ago, the joke that went around the environment movement was that the first (and sometimes the only thing) purveyors of the book would read was the index to check whether their names were there. If some of the reports we have heard from around the bookshops of Brisbane are true, Radical Brisbane has received a similar response. We feel for Ray Evans and Carole Ferrier, the editors of Radical Brisbane, because everyone who has been around the activist scene in Brisbane over the last 40 years will want to see themselves, or at least their organisations, represented. Inevitably, given the limitations of such publications, many have been disappointed. The point of this review essay is not to critique the inclusions and omissions in order to assuage individual egos, but to further an understanding of the basis of radical politics and to interpret why Brisbane has been the seat of dissent as much as of development in this state.

Throughout the history of British colonies, the intermingling of commerce and ‘civility’ produced the kinds of colonies that Britain (like other imperial nations) most needed — colonies which not only produced raw materials or space for recalcitrant criminals, but also spaces in which imperialist discourses could educate, convert, and expand what was known of human consciousness. The imperial ‘duty’ was to civilise and conquer the unknown non-Western world for imperial consumption and ‘native’ edification. Through education, both religious and secular, European missionaries sought to inculcate native minds and bodies with the tenets of Western Christianity and culture. Whilst many recent studies have examined the ways in which imperial discourses conquered and codified ‘other’ cultures and peoples, the history of the missionary movement exemplifies a particularly overt form of the dissemination of imperial/Christian discourses. Through Christian teachings, which not only codified religious thinking but also appropriate social behaviour, imperial discourses shaped the manner in which life was experienced under Christian and imperial rule. This paper will explore the ways that missionary activity assisted and effected colonial control.

It has become a commonplace to note that women writers in Australia have historically produced their work in a literary and social context that has largely been regarded as a male domain. Second wave feminism in the wake of the counter-cultural movements of the sixties and seventies, together with the developments in poststructuralist theories have contested this privileged intellectual space and triggered new ways of looking at literary history, the relations between production and consumption, and the significance of gender, race and class in literary analysis (Ferrier 1992:1). This chapter deals with a number of texts written by Queensland women in the latter part of the twentieth century, and thus is concerned principally with the many ‘configurations of female subjectivity’ (Ferrier 1998:210) and self-definition that Elaine Showalter saw as belonging to the third phase of women's writing. However as this is a chapter about women writers writing in and about Queensland, it will also be interested in narrative representations of women's experiences of the local place and culture, in which gendered relationships are always implicated.

The cultural association of Queensland with a condition of imagination or unreality has a strong history. Queensland has always ‘retained much of its quality as an abstraction, an idea’, asserts Thea Astley in her famous essay on the state's identity (Astley 1976: 263). In one of the most quoted descriptions of Queensland's literary representation, Pat Buckridge draws attention to its ‘othering’, suggesting that Queensland possesses ‘a different sense of distance, different architecture, a different apprehension of time, a distinctive preoccupation with personal eccentricity, and . . . a strong sense of cultural antitheses’ (1976: 30). Rosie Scott comes closest to the concerns of this present article when she asserts that this so-called difference ‘is definitely partly to do with the landscape. In Brisbane, for instance, the rickety old wooden Queenslanders drenched in bougainvillea, the palms, the astounding number of birds even in Red Hill where I lived, the jacarandas, are all unique in Australia’ (quoted in Sheahan-Bright and Glover 2002: xv). For Vivienne Muller, Buckridge's ‘cultural antitheses’ are most clearly expressed in precisely this interpretation of Queensland as a place somewhere between imagined wilderness and paradise (2001: 72). Thus, as Gillian Whitlock suggests, such differences are primarily fictional constructs that feed ‘an image making process founded more on nationalist debates about city and bush, centre and periphery, the Southern states versus the Deep North than on any “real” sense of regionalism’ (quoted in Muller 2001: 80). Queensland, in this reading, is subject to the Orientalist discourse of an Australian national identity in which the so-called civilisation of the south-eastern urban capitals necessitates a dark ‘other’. I want to draw out this understanding of the landscape as it is imagined in Queensland women's writing. Gail Reekie (1994: 8) suggests that, ‘Women's sense of place, of region, is powerfully constructed by their marginality to History.’ These narratives do assert Queensland's ‘difference’, but as part of an articulation of psychological extremity experienced by those living on the edges of a simultaneously ideological and geographically limited space. The Queensland landscape, I argue, is thus used as both setting for and symbol of traumatic experience.

Despite the current preoccupation with globalisation, literary criticism remains heavily focused on national cultures. In the context of Australian literature, comparisons are regularly made with the literatures of other British Commonwealth nations, but surprisingly infrequently with that of Britain's first and most successful colony, the United States. This article explores thematic and cultural connections between the work of American-born modernist poet and novelist H.D. (1886–1961) and the Australian-born postmodern novelist Janette Turner Hospital (born 1942). It suggests that the transnational phenomenon of ecstatic Protestantism, which originated in northern Europe and was disseminated widely around the globe along the channels of commerce and colonisation, has been a key influence in shaping the literary imaginations of these writers. Indeed, Protestantism – far from being a spent or reactive force – continues to generate new forms of modernity as its emphasis on transformation is exported from somewhat inward-looking religious communities into broader cultural domains.

In the late 1970s, Carden Wallace was at the beginning of her lifelong exploration of the Great Barrier Reef — and indeed, reefs all over the world. For Wallace, who is now Emeritus Principal Scientist at Queensland Museum, the beginning of her Reef career coincided with the emergence of both feminist and environmental movements that meant her personal and professional lives would be entwined with a changing social, cultural and political milieu. In this article, we couple the story of Wallace’s personal life and her arrival in coral science to identify the Reef as a gendered space ripe to explore both feminist and conservation politics. The article is part of a broader Women of the Reef project that supports a history of women’s contribution to the care and conservation of the Reef since the 1960s. In amplifying the role of women in the story of the Reef, we find hope in the richness of detail offered by oral history to illuminate the ways discourse on the Reef and its women sits at the intersection of biography, culture, politics and place. In these stories, we recognise women’s participation and leadership as critical to past challenges, and to current and future climate change action. By retelling modern Reef history through the experiences and achievements of women, we can develop new understandings of the Reef that disrupt the existing dominance of patriarchal and Western systems of knowledge and power that have led us to the brink of ecological collapse.

This article explores the totemic 2020 Queensland state election, at which a two-term government plagued by a deteriorating economy and widely criticised travel restrictions amid the COVID-19 pandemic was returned with an increased majority. The article posits three arguments: that COVID-19 created a new ‘lens’ through which electors evaluated public policy and that allowed voters to frame public health and safety over the more usual measures of economic performance; that Queensland voters drew on their traditional political culture – especially their predilection for strong leadership and state chauvinism – to evaluate the Palaszczuk Labor government’s pandemic management favourably compared with contemporaneous events in Victoria; and that Queensland voters expressed similar confidence in a Labor economic recovery plan that contrasted favourably with the LNP’s economic platform. In sum, this article argues that Queenslanders in 2020 cast a ‘gratitude vote’ for a government they saw as being in control of both public health and economic recovery.

This special issue of Queensland Review is focused on the long history of migration in regional Queensland. It integrates analysis by historians and social scientists to explore the continuities and changes that have characterised Queenslanders’ lives outside the metropolitan centre of Brisbane. Together, the articles reveal how mobile populations and cultural belonging have been negotiated, and continue to be negotiated, in regional Queensland.

This paper explores the rise of adoption as a cultural phenomenon by examining some crucial changes in Queensland law.

The objective of this paper is to analyse key elements of the development strategy of Singapore since the mid–1960s. The paper describes the economic challenge faced by Singapore in the mid–1960s, overviews contemporary world trends in foreign direct investment, and uses competitiveness constructs developed by Michael Porter (1985) to clarify key stages in the evolution of Singapore's development strategy. The paper argues that the strategy has been successful because of unremitting top priority given to it by Singapore's political leadership and because the political leaders charged a single organisation, the Economic Development Board (EDB), with absolute authority to develop and implement the strategy. The paper concludes with implications for Queensland's Smart State initiatives.

From their foundation at the turn of the twentieth century, the remoteness from large population centres of Queensland's reserves for Aboriginal and Islander people was a key factor in maintaining them. Activism by the people themselves, reports and commentary by journalists, and research by historians like Charles Rowley, Raymond Evans, Henry Reynolds and Ros Kidd have raised the public's awareness of past and present reserve conditions. Although important in itself, the tide of events may seem to be of only marginal professional concern to students of literature, yet a question worth considering is whether textual analysis can contribute usefully to the reform process. In this essay I demonstrate a form that such a contribution might take, by examining an unofficial canon of texts associated with Palm Island. In some respects a representative place of confinement for Aboriginal and Islander people, Palm Island has been described as ‘the largest and historically most punitive of Queensland's reserves’ (Watson 1993: ix). I explore the texts for the insights they provide into the changing attitudes and understanding of whites and blacks, as the forces of repression and resistance have wrestled for dominance. My aim is to contribute to the conversations among Indigenous and non-Indigenous people that are presently shaping Palm Island's future.