I’m an Australian Jew: Your Support, and Support From Around the World, Really Matters to Us

Last Sunday, on the Bondi Beach beachfront, something broke in Australian society.

Two Jihadi terrorists — a father and son — decided to “Globalize the Intifada,” actualizing the chant so many anti-Israel demonstrators have been repeating in Australia over the past two years.

They did it by launching a murderous attack on innocent men, women, and children celebrating the first night of Hanukkah.

And by the time they were finally stopped, 15 people lay dead, their blood staining the grass and sand amidst the petting zoo and face painting booths.

It was both the deadliest terror attack in Australian history and the greatest loss of Jewish life since the October 7 massacre.

But as shocked as we are, and as traumatized as we feel, every Jew in Australia will tell you the same thing: we are not surprised.

In the pages of The Algemeiner itself, I had warned about this exact scenario for years.

This massacre had been building ever since the sickening displays of open Jew-hatred in Australia on the very evening of October 7. Even as the Hamas attack was still taking place, firebrand imams were standing in the street of Sydney and screaming to a joyous crowd, “This is a day of celebration! This is a day of courage!”

Just two days later, on the steps of the Sydney Opera House, chants of “F the Jews” echoed around Australia’s most famous icon, as thousands of people celebrated the “success” of the Hamas terror spree in southern Israel.

The failure of the police authorities, the state government, and the federal government to snuff out that hatred right there and then meant a green light was tacitly given for the greatest increase in Jew-hatred in Australian history.

From that moment, antisemitic graffiti popped up everywhere. Anti-Israel demonstrations that often descended into violence and chaos were held weekly, intimidating the Jewish community. Soon after came the torching of vehicles in Jewish neighborhoods. Then attacks on businesses and houses of worship.

Schoolchildren were subjected to antisemitic assaults on buses. In the virtual world, Jewish creatives were doxed by online groups, leading to many artists and musicians losing their livelihoods. In the physical world, they were attacked in the streets. Worshipers were forced to evacuate synagogues during Friday night Shabbat services. And one synagogue was burnt down in an arson attack, while others were similarly targeted.

Each escalation added to the mounting pressure on the social cohesion of our multicultural society until it finally gave way, with disastrous consequences, last Sunday.

So how does the Australian Jewish community feel right now, knowing that the attention of much of the world has been focused on this small community of 120,000 people in this far-flung island, making up less than half a percent of the population?

Well, we feel worried. We feel vulnerable. We feel abandoned. We feel devastated and traumatized. We feel isolated and alone. And we feel an overwhelming sense of grief and sadness.

It is a feeling that most Jews felt right after October 7. A deep and aching numbness in which the joy of life had been taken from us, leaving just empty vessels struggling to feel anything, unable to eat, to smile, to laugh.

Many Australian Jews believed we were in the lucky country, far from those places in the old world like France, Belgium, or the UK, where Jews were forced to hide their identity and violence was never far.

But that illusion has been shattered, along with a realization that has hit Australia — and hit it hard. We now know that the hatred we once believed belonged to distant places is now firmly entrenched in our own soil — and in our own lives.

However, we also feel something else.

Last evening, I attended a Hanukkah candle lighting at another beachfront in Melbourne to celebrate our identity and show solidarity with our community. While there was a strong police contingent and I never felt unsafe, I nevertheless instinctively couldn’t help scouring the buildings and the surroundings, trying to assess if there were any visible threats lying in wait. It sounds crazy, yet this is how many Jews feel right now — extreme vigilance is now part of our existence.

However, seeing the support from not just the Jewish community but from the wider community has been overwhelming. I, along with many other Australian Jews, have received messages of support and love from around the world, from America and from Israel and from South Africa and from the UK. Ordinary Australians have been donating blood in huge numbers and laying floral tributes at the massacre site and at synagogues and public menorahs around Australia.

Just as Australian Jews held vigils for the victims of October 7, so now are Israeli Jews holding vigil for the victims of the Bondi Beach terror attack.

Never underestimate the power of standing with someone who is hurting, and the impact that support has, because I know that we all feel it deeply down under in this far corner of the world.

So how do I feel now? Still wounded, bewildered, horrified and angry — but  what I can say is that with the heartfelt support we have received, I feel a little less lonely than I did before.

Justin Amler is a policy analyst at the Australia/Israel & Jewish Affairs Council (AIJAC).