One December afternoon, Jewish families came together at Sydney’s Bondi Beach to mark the first night of Hanukkah—a holiday centered on light, joy, and resilience. Amid the festivities, armed of the peaceful crowd. At least 16 people lost their lives, and dozens more were hurt. The attack was vicious and intentional. Officials have since confirmed it was both a terrorist act and a targeted antisemitic assault.

It’s easy to use terms like “senseless” or “shocking.” Yet the true surprise is that anyone still considers this surprising.

The incident at Bondi Beach is not a standalone occurrence. It is the grim outcome of the , the acceptance of conspiracy theories as normal, the warping influence of algorithms, and a continuing failure to address hatred aimed specifically and repeatedly at Jews.

Antisemitism is no longer limited to fringe groups or little-known online forums. It now flourishes in lecture halls, on city streets, and in public discussion. Jewish students face harassment on college campuses. Synagogues need armed security. A Hanukkah celebration has now become a war zone.

When a synagogue, Jewish museum, or school is attacked, some still look for subtlety and disclaimers. They widen the focus by asserting that all hate is wrong. They highlight the risks of racism in general, as though calling out the problem specifically would weaken solidarity. It does not. Failing to name antisemitism directly and acknowledge it as a unique, age-old, and evolving hatred is not a mark of balance—it’s a form of denial.

This denial has real effects. It lets antisemitism mutate and spread, fueled by populist rhetoric and selective outrage. As governments debate definitions, mobs carry out atrocities.

The Bondi incident is what happens when hatred goes unchallenged.

Yet, in the middle of the chaos, a Muslim bystander put his life on the line to stop one of the attackers—a brave act that saved lives and reminded us of the moral clarity that can transcend identity.

When leaders are ambiguous, moral clarity gives way to tribal thinking, and targeting Jews is treated as an unfortunate side note rather than an urgent crisis.

Hanukkah is a story of surviving against overwhelming odds and rekindling light in the darkest hour. But no community should have to become experts at survival. It is the responsibility of governments, institutions, neighbors, and tech leaders to ensure public celebrations are met with joy—not gunfire.

If we have any moral clarity left, it must start with a simple, unvarnished truth: This was an antisemitic massacre. Preventing the next one will take more than statements. It demands action across law enforcement, education, public discourse, and the digital spaces shaped by the companies and algorithms that influence what billions of people see and believe.

This is not only a test for Australia—it’s a test for all of us.