The power Alan Jones wielded had less to do with respect than with fear, according to investigative journalist Chris Masters whose bestselling biography, Jonestown: The Power and the Myth of Alan Jones, was published in 2006.
Speaking after the former Sydney radio host was charged over alleged historic indecent assault and sexual touching offences spanning two decades, Masters said when he saw Jones’ abuse of political power and manipulation of powerful figures he couldn’t look away.
“In journalism we confront abuse of power wherever we see it,” the former award-winning Four Corners reporter told Guardian Australia. “I was seeing it in my own industry in Jones.”
Researching an ABC Four Corners program Masters witnessed the influence Jones had on New South Wales politics up close.
Jones had “all manner of princes and premiers bowing before him”, Masters wrote in Jonestown; and everyone from prime minister John Howard to NSW premier Bob Carr down appeared to serve in the court of Alan Jones. Major corporations lined up to advertise on 2GB, buying “some of that influence and market share”.
So influential was Jones, Howard was famously said to have appointed a dedicated go-between known as the Minister for Alan Jones. Many on both sides of politics believed Jones’ breakfast radio show could influence elections.
“I think that they thought that there was no upside in opposing him,” Masters said. “If you fought him, then you weren’t winning before his audience. His audience was so loyal, he had a kind of evangelical following.”
One of the politicians who did stand up to Jones was Malcolm Turnbull. “Turnbull’s experience is instructive in the sense that, yes, Turnbull bested him on air, but it didn’t pay Turnbull in the long run,” Masters says.
“It used to bother me because I wanted to see them fighting him more often. They all learned that it really wasn’t worth it. So it told me a lot about my own industry, about how much power broadcasters can have.”
In May 2020 Jones took his first step away from the platform which was to render him so much clout. The then-79-year-old surprised everyone by announcing his retirement after dominating breakfast radio in Sydney for 35 years.
Then on a $4m salary, Jones had recorded an unequalled 226 survey wins, but a series of on-air scandals had led to the radio station losing advertisers and haemorrhaging revenue.
Jones had escaped many a scandal before, including cash for comment and inciting hatred against Lebanese people ahead of the Cronulla riot, but the loss of advertising revenue meant he was now a liability.
Despite these scandals – which included misogynist attacks on Julia Gillard and Jacinda Ardern – when Jones announced his retirement politicians lined up to congratulate him on his career, including then opposition leader Anthony Albanese.
Scott Morrison called in: “You’ve always spoken your mind to everyone, including me, and we’ve had one or two disagreements, but you’ve always done the right thing for your country.”
Then NSW premier Gladys Berejiklian wished him well, and the former prime minister Tony Abbott told Jones “it was a significant day”.
In December last year the Sydney Morning Herald’s investigative reporter Kate McClymont reported historical allegations against Jones of indecent assault. In response Jones denied all wrongdoing and said he was planning legal action against Nine newspapers for the “demonstrably false” allegations.
Masters says the alleged victims and witnesses began to emerge after Jones lost his gig with 2GB, then with Sky News Australia which dumped his TV program after one year amid multiple complaints about his coverage of Covid-19.
“The difference, of course, is as soon as he finished broadcasting and he lost the bully pulpit, the widespread fear that kept him in power dissipated,” Masters said.
“It was about fear. It wasn’t about respect. It was about fear.”
Masters says Jones’ audience, largely the over-70s, was loyal and forgave him for his inconsistencies and his lengthy sermons. “He could beat up Bob Carr right and left, but on the day before the election, when he realised that Carr was going to win, he would suddenly endorse Carr,” Masters says.
“He had a kind of cultist following. He was an evangelical broadcaster. He was a politician who broadcast. He was unhesitant about playing politics.”
Masters says while Jones claimed to speak for the listeners he dubbed “Struggle Street” he used his power to advocate for his wealthy mates.
“He had unusual power,” he says. “Most of the politicians have a bit of a sense of responsibility, but not Alan. The power was for him, and there’s the hypocrisy there, that he leveraged those people, loyal followers, in order to advocate for his wealthy mates, a bit like Donald Trump.”
On his final show, One Nation leaders Pauline Hanson and Mark Latham gushed over him, Abbott and Latham turned up to his farm where he recorded his last show and Australian actors Nicole Kidman and Russell Crowe appeared happy to be associated with him. Sports stars Darren Beadman and Mark Bosnich called and Hugh Jackman said Jones was one of the “kindest, most supportive” people he knows.
“We don’t always agree with our politics,” Crowe told Jones, “But the thing that I know about you, Mr Jones, is the size of your heart.
“You’re an incredible man, Alan. Thank you very much for all of the incredible things that you’ve done.”
Masters says he feels no sense of satisfaction from Jones’ charges, despite the criticism and legal threats his book attracted 18 years ago, but he is wondering what Jones’ high-flying supporters are feeling now.
“I mean, the interesting thing now is to look across that horizon, all the people who supported Jones for all those years … I wonder what they’re saying to themselves right now.”
