I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and it left me feeling shocked, deeply shaken and overwhelmingly sad. Images of festival goers attempting to escape but being manhandled by Hamas terrorists. Young men and young women, like Noa Argamani, shoved, like stock, into the back of vehicles and utes. Fear and horror printed all over their faces. Blood spattered all over their clothes. I could only but try to imagine the terror they must have been experiencing in that moment. I remember turning on the news and seeing coverage coming from the Nova music festival and nearby Kibbutz Re’im for the first time. In Perth, Western Australia, it was a sunny but cool day; nothing to suggest the horrendous events unleashed on the other side of the world.
A few days later and while still digesting the true nature of these heinous crimes, some Facebook messages and other social media comments started trickling in. Comments from close friends expressing sympathy and compassion but sprinkled among these messages of support were the occasional comments that were laced with a subtle but insidious barb such as desperate people are dangerous people and that if the Jewish State doesn’t facilitate a homeland for Palestinian people, this will keep on happening. A lot of these comments were from women. Well-meaning women. Hadn’t they comprehended the true nature of what happened to those poor young women and children who were murdered and taken as hostages? This was not a political statement but an act of terrorism.
The blood had not yet dried on the paving stones in the kibbutz before the banner of moral equivalence was being waved at me, implying that Jewish people were responsible for what had happened. This soon degenerated even further, painting the Jewish people as being the real aggressors. Things plummeted rapidly and, even before Israel launched its first missile to defend its homeland, there were rallies outside the Sydney Opera House in which protestors shouted Kill the Jews, Gas the Jews (although there was some debate about the wording of this chant with some suggesting that it was actually Where’s the Jews). In an instant, all Jews were cast as zealous Zionists who no longer deserved to live and who no longer had the right to defend themselves.
I was still reeling from the horror newsreels which reported the rape and mutilation of hundreds of women, including pregnant women whose stomachs were cut open, as well as the burning of babies in their houses along with their mothers and grandparents, some of whom who had survived the Holocaust only to find themselves in a new Holocaust all over again. And, yet, I was being told that there was some justification for these horrifying acts and that they were almost inevitable. I felt like I was thrust into an alternative universe in which the deliberate targeting of women and the mutilation of their bodies was just one of the consequences of war. An obfuscating sense of moral equivalence to explain away barbarism. Hamas was described as a militant group fighting for Palestinian rights and not the highly sophisticated terrorist organisation that they were, bent on the annihilation of Israel, the Jewish race and a Caliphate dominion. Indeed, positioning the Jewish people as the terrorists, and even likening them to the Nazis – there could be no greater insult for a Jewish person than to be described in this way — while re-casting the brutal and barbarous acts of Hamas as a legitimate form of Palestinian resistance against their oppressors. As a woman, I felt personally assaulted. As a Jewish woman, I felt insulted as well as assaulted.
I have always believed in the right of self-determination for the Palestinian people and advocated for a two-state solution as long as both parties were committed to living in peace and harmony. But I don’t believe that what happened on the 7thOctober did anything to advance the Palestinian cause but, rather, was more about the singular purpose and obsession of Hamas to conquer the whole of Israel and wipe out the Jewish nation in the process.
Relatively immune from personal attacks in my isolated community in Western Australia, it was a completely different situation when I arrived in Melbourne. My daughter lives in one of the Northern suburbs and suddenly I was surrounded by fences, walls and shopfronts plastered with antisemitic, hateful depictions and stereotypic tropes of Jewish people. The Palestinian flag was more popular in people’s front gardens than its Australian counterpart and some Jewish businesses were receiving death threats and continual vandalism and damage to their properties. When I went for a walk around the University of Melbourne campus in early February, expecting it to be a neutral site of advanced learning, I felt a sense of unease and impending threat once again by Palestinian flags being proudly displayed in window fronts. This was before all the encampments took place. However, the reality was that while I recognised that everyone has the right to display flags in support of different nations, it felt quite confronting that this was happening in an educational venue and I no longer felt comfortable walking around the university grounds. I lodged a complaint to campus security a few days later but was reluctant to leave my name in case of retribution. On another visit, my husband caught a tram to the city and was lucky to exit the city on one of the last trams out for the evening before a violent and angry rally took over the streets. Even a trip to the airport meant delays because of yet another demonstration in the northern suburbs. While I support the rights of citizens to demonstrate in a peaceful and respectful manner, many of these demonstrations depicted hateful symbols and messages, bordering on being aggressive.
Local Melbourne and Sydney councils were no longer putting forward motions about constructing safer roads but were demanding action on the Middle East and putting motions forward about boycotting Israeli products and recognising a Palestinian State, matters completely out of their jurisdiction. When a Jewish man tried to attend one of these Council meetings, the police ushered him away, saying that they were trying to protect him as it was no longer safe for him to be there, given the anger and hatred of the demonstrators outside the Council chambers. Again, I had that feeling that I was living in a universe tipped upside down where the haters and the aggressors had free reign and more rights than innocent civilians.
I began to feel that nowhere was safe anymore and my identity as a Jewish person and as a Jewish woman was under attack. I had spent my early life hardly ever acknowledging my Jewish heritage, always fearing racial slurs. I was the second generation of Holocaust survivor relatives and parents who had lost most of their family in the Holocaust, so even as a child I recognised that there was an inherent danger in owning my Jewishness. But as I grew older and more confident, I embraced my Jewish identity and wrote about it because, after all, Australia was a safe place and Jewish people were integral members of our society. But, post-October 7th, all of this changed, and I no longer felt safe owning up to and acknowledging my heritage. I started saying that I was presenting at literary festivals instead of calling them for what they were: Jewish literary events for fear of reprisals in the workplace and I quickly disengaged from conversations that began with the Middle East when it was plain to see that people were going to make divisive and biased comments. I also grieved for my aunt who was a child survivor from the Holocaust and who was now re-living past traumas in her own home city of Melbourne. She had believed that she would never have to endure this trauma again but now found herself surrounded by hate-filled rhetoric.
The one group that I felt safe in: an online Jewish academic and creatives WhatsApp group which provided support, information and compassion to its members was doxed earlier in the year, and I was left with the sickening feeling of being publicly identifiable and vulnerable. I stayed in the group because I believed in its intrinsic value and it gave me a much-needed connection to other Jewish people who were suffering in a similar way to me.
When a female relative started using words to describe Israel as ‘colonialist, genocidal and apartheid-like’, instead of calling out the acts of barbarism by Hamas on other women, I felt hurt. This same relative proudly described herself as being on the right side of history. There are no parallels between a sovereign state trying to defend its right to exist and a terrorist homicidal organisation that spends millions of dollars, not in protecting its people or bettering their livelihoods, but in building a massive underground tunnel system in which to store munitions. There is no moral equivalence or comparison when this same terrorist organisation deliberately targets women and children in a murderous rampage and yet uses its own women and children as human shields, to a democratic state which sends out leaflets warning of impending attacks, encouraging women and children to leave before launching its missiles.
As a woman and, particularly, as a Jewish woman, the events of October 7th made me feel particularly fearful and vulnerable. It so easily could have been me there at the time. The women who were kidnapped and who suffered the most unspeakable crimes were my Jewish sisters. Their violation had nothing to do with an act of warfare or resistance. Their violation was about the sheer hatred that Hamas had towards Jewish people living in the State of Israel. They chose to target women who were the most vulnerable of targets. This was not an act of courage but of cowardice. How would these acts of vengeance and violence going to improve the lives of Palestinian women and children who are often the most downtrodden in their own society and whose rights are so heavily restricted?
Has my life changed since 7 October 2023? Irrevocably. Totally and completely. I measure what I say now, weighing up my words against what I have to lose. I choose not to argue with people who live in an echo chamber instead of embracing a more holistic understanding. I ask myself, as a writer, am I not included in a festival or event because of my Jewish background? I find myself fighting against polarities and binary notions in a world that has become more polarised and divisive.
Not only has the world become more divided, I was shocked to see how quickly the Australian landscape changed from being a tolerant and safe place for people from all walks of life to becoming a hotbed of antisemitism with regular acts of violence against Jewish citizens. Businesses having no connection whatsoever to Israel were targeted because they were owned by Jews, flags and cars were set alight and antisemitic slogans and chants were directed at the Jewish community in numerous uncontrolled and often violent rallies in Melbourne and Sydney. While there was some support from the rest of the community who bravely stood up and challenged these acts, there has also been a resounding silence at times from the general populace and our leaders. Encampments at universities went on for months simply because university leaders failed to contain or curtail them, resulting in many Jewish students failing to attend their lectures and tutorials because they no longer felt safe. How had institutions of education, which were meant to foster analytical thinking and debate, become so insular and prejudicial to the point where even academic staff who had research links with Israeli universities were threatened within their own offices?
Demonstrations in Melbourne regularly brought the city to a standstill on weekends because Victorian law did not stipulate that permits were required to stage rallies. With increasing violence at these demonstrations, Jewish people were often asked to leave the area for their own safety, once again putting the onus of safety on the victims instead of the arm of the law arresting the perpetrators and shutting down the rallies altogether. No surprise, then, that emboldened perpetrators went one step further: firebombing a synagogue in the heart of the Jewish community in Melbourne while worshippers were inside. It was at this point that I began to wonder how long it would be before Jewish people were actively hunted down and murdered. I remember too well that the Holocaust started with the burning of books, businesses and synagogues before the burning of people.
The harsh reality is that Jewish people are now being targeted in Australia simply for being Jewish. Their political and nationalistic allegiances no longer matter in a world of rising antisemitism. Any outward display of their Jewish identity often leads to directed slander and occasionally open abuse. This has permeated all corners of what was once our tolerant society. Even places that had not seen many public displays of antisemitism before, such as Perth, were now witnessing similar incidents. Just before Christmas, a Jewish American tourist wearing a Magen David (Star of David) was publicly abused and threatened in the middle of the day in Kings Park. For the majority of Jewish people living in Australia, no place feels completely safe anymore. We are constantly looking over our shoulders and monitoring our words and actions.
What does it take for the laws to change to protect victims? The first discussions about introducing a demonstration permit system in Victoria commenced when antisemitic rallies disrupted the opening ceremony for the Myer Christmas window display. It took this event for ordinary Australians to realise that their Judeo-Christian way of life was in danger and that treasured family traditions aimed at children were being scaled back and altered because of the protesters. It took a synagogue to burn down before politicians finally chose to act. Victorian legislation will now restrict the number and nature of demonstrations permitted. It has taken a long time and much heartbreak but finally policies are shifting, outlawing hate speech, the display of Nazi symbols and other terrorist slogans. However, one of the consequences of putting the genie back into the bottle long after it has been allowed to run rampant for so long is that antisemitism has flourished in what was previously a mostly tolerant and harmonious multicultural society. Furthermore, I fear that, even with the new laws, underlying antisemitism, which had been simmering below the surface of our civil society may not be so easily dispelled.
And, make no mistake, while it may have started with the Jewish people, it won’t end with them. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. A society is only as robust as its most vulnerable. A nation that fails to protect its minorities jeopardises the safety of all.
Not only have I felt more vulnerable in this rising cesspool of antisemitism but, ironically, I have also felt more Jewish. This is my identity whether I own it or not. It is my destiny. And if the world turns against my people as historically it has done time after time, then I will stand with them. It has made me more determined to fight against racism of any kind and it has made me more passionate about working towards a more inclusive society. A world where the vulnerable are protected. Where an innocent civilian can exercise their democratic rights to attend a council meeting without being asked to leave for their own safety. A world where hate speech and public displays of terrorist organisations are eradicated. Ripped out by their roots and not allowed to grow. Only then can our society be truly cohesive again. Only then can we all look forward to a future of harmony and peace.
