On Bondi

The Bondi Beach terrorist attack on Sunday claimed the lives of 15 people and injured many others. Mass shootings and terrorist attacks are both rare in Australia. So the combination of a mass shooting, a terrorist attack, the targeting of a Jewish gathering attended by families celebrating Hanukkah, and the location of the iconic Bondi Beach — all make this tragedy deeply felt.

While the physical attack was localised, the flow on effects continue to spread.

The fear for safety and grief of the Jewish community. The way blame is being spread. The grasping for explanations. The proliferation of misinformation. The impact of seeing such violence every time you open a social media app or news site. The scapegoating of migrants and Muslims.

The speculation. The politicisation. The weaponisation. The fear.

No one should be made to feel unsafe or that they don’t belong in Australia.

Not Jewish people gathering with their community.

Not Palestinians advocating for their community.

Not people protesting the actions of an authoritarian government.

Not people opposing genocide.

Not First Nations people.

Not Muslims.

Not Christians.

Not women.

Not migrants.

Not refugees and asylum seekers.

No one deserves to feel unsafe here.

It should be antithetical to our national identity, to our values, to the way we interact with one another.

I cannot pretend to know the deep pain, fear and grief the Jewish community is experiencing and has experienced. The Jewish community deserves to feel safe and not be targeted for their identity. I am also not surprised by what happened.

Antisemitism is persistent and often overlooked.

So, too, is Islamophobia.

Both have increased. Both must be addressed.

We cannot let a response to one fuel a rise in the other.

We cannot weaponise one prejudice to silence critique of another.

Terrorism isn’t an ideology. It is a tactic. A strategy.

To create fear in the targeted group.

To shake our sense of safety.

To create division and blame.

To sow seeds of doubt, misinformation, confusion, and suspicion.

To attack at the core elements of our identity and values.

And to provoke harsh responses from the State.

We saw the worst of humanity in the individuals who perpetrated this crime. But we have also seen some of the best of humanity amid this violence and tragedy.

Countless people who responded, protected, supported, intervened. Many at great personal risk or cost to themselves.

The police, the lifeguards, the first responders — those who found themselves at work that day serving their community in ways they never could have imagined.

And then there are those people who aren’t trained professionals, but who acted in the moment to make a difference. To confront and disarm a shooter. To shield a child. We call them heroes, and praise their bravery. And rightly so.

But truthfully, the ordinariness of these people and their actions is the thing I find most praiseworthy and comforting.

The instinct to protect, to care, to come together with others. How easily it is reached for. How it is a reminder that the goodness within people isn’t remarkable or rare. It is who we are. That goodness, generosity, selflessness, kindness, care…they all are far bigger and far more common than the hate that drove the terrorists.

When we see ourselves as part of community, as part of something bigger than ourselves, that is where the strength is. Our communities and connections are stronger than we think. And those who would seek to destroy us are weaker than they think.

We can respond to acts of terrorism by refusing to allow the terrorists to get what they want. Refuse to allow them to create cracks or division. Refuse to allow their hatred to infect our society. Refuse to offer up one community under the guise of protecting another. Refuse to participate in spreading hate speech and misinformation.

Questions will — and must — be asked about how this terrorist act was able to occur. But investigations into intelligence, into motive, into failures or weaknesses of policy takes time. Weaponising emotional responses for political point-scoring or moral high ground does nothing productive, and does nothing to address the issues or prevent it from happening again. Blame in the moment is easy and attractive. But once false narratives, later disproven, gain a foothold — they are hard to eradicate.

We have a responsibility to be mindful of the words we use, the stories we share, the actions we encourage.

What we can, and should, do is centre the victims — the innocent lives cut too short by this act of violence — and the bystanders caught in this tragedy who showed the very best of our humanity and our values. To talk to the people in our lives. To listen to those most affected. To show up for our communities.

And not allow this calculated act of terror to tear us apart.