🔗 Share this article

While Australia winds down for a customary Christmas holiday across languorous days of beach and blistering heat accompanied by the background of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the nation's summer mood seems, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a significant understatement to describe the collective disposition after the anti-Jewish terrorist attack on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of mere discontent.

Across the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tone of immediate shock, sorrow and terror is shifting to fury and deep polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the often voiced concerns of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are attuned to balancing the need for a far more urgent, energetic official crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the right to peacefully protest against genocide.

If ever there was a moment for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in humanity is so deeply depleted. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the hatred and fear of faith-based persecution on this land or elsewhere.

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

This is a period when I lament not having a greater faith. I lament, because believing in people – in mankind’s capacity for compassion – has let us down so acutely. Something else, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme examples of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and paramedics, those who charged into the danger to help others, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.

When the police tape still waved wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of community, religious and cultural unity was laudably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

In keeping with the symbolism of Hanukah (illumination amid darkness), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for lightness.

Togetherness, light and compassion was the essence of faith.

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

And yet segments of the political landscape reacted so disgustingly swiftly with fragmentation, finger-pointing and accusation.

Some politicians gravitated straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a calculating chance to challenge Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the harmful message of disunity from longstanding agitators of societal discord, capitalizing on the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the investigation was ongoing.

Politics has a daunting job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and scared and seeking the hope and, not least, explanations to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as likely, did such a large public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly insufficient protection? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the residence when the security agency has so publicly and consistently alerted of the threat of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that cliched argument (or versions of it) that it’s people not guns that cause death. Of course, each point are true. It’s feasible to at the same time seek new ways to stop hate-fuelled violence and prevent guns away from its possible perpetrators.

In this city of profound splendor, of pristine azure skies above ocean and shore, the ocean and the coastline – our communal areas – may not seem quite the same again to the multitude who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

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

This weekend many Australians are calling off holiday gathering plans. Quiet contemplation will feel more appropriate.

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these days of fear, anger, sadness, confusion and grief we require each other more than ever.

The reassurance of community – the binding force of the unity in the very word – is what we probably need most.

But sadly, all of the indicators are that cohesion in politics and society will be elusive this long, draining summer.