🔗 Share this article

As Australia winds down for a traditional Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of coast and scorching heat accompanied by the background of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer mood seems, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a significant understatement to characterize the collective disposition after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah celebrations as one of simple ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tenor of initial shock, grief and terror is shifting to anger and bitter division.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are attuned to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, vigorous government and institutional crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a moment for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in mankind is so sorely depleted. This is especially so for those of us lucky never to have endured the hatred and fear of religious and ethnic persecution on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the algorithms keep churning out at us the banal hot takes of those with blistering, polarizing views but no sense at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a time when I lament not having a stronger faith. I mourn, because having faith in humanity – in our potential for compassion – has failed us so painfully. A different source, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such extreme instances of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and medical staff, those who ran towards the danger to aid others, some publicly hailed but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of community, faith-based and cultural unity was admirably promoted by faith leaders. It was a message of compassion and acceptance – of unifying rather than dividing in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (light amid darkness), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for hope.

Togetherness, hope and love was the message of faith.

‘Our public places may not appear exactly as they did again.’

And yet segments of the political landscape responded so nauseatingly swiftly with division, blame and accusation.

Some elected officials moved straight for the pessimism, using the atrocity as a cynical chance to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the dangerous message of disunity from longstanding agitators of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the massacre before the site was even cold. Then consider the words of political figures while the probe was ongoing.

Government has a daunting task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and frightened and seeking the light and, not least, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as likely, did such a significant open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and repeatedly alerted of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched line (or versions of it) that it’s people not guns that cause death. Naturally, each point are valid. It’s possible to at the same time pursue new ways to prevent hate-fuelled violence and keep firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of profound splendor, of pristine azure skies above sea and shore, the water and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not look entirely familiar again to the multitude who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We yearn right now for understanding and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in culture or nature.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling Christmas party plans. Reflective solitude will feel more appropriate.

But this is perhaps counterintuitively against instinct. For in these times of fear, anger, melancholy, confusion and loss we require each other more than ever.

The comfort of community – the human glue of the unity in the very word – is what we likely need most.

But tragically, all of the portents are that unity in public life and society will be hard to find this long, enervating summer.