While the nation settles into for a customary Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of coast and scorching heat accompanied by the background of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the country’s summer atmosphere feels, unfortunately, like none before.
It would be a dramatic oversimplification to describe the national temperament after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of simple discontent.
Across the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tone of initial shock, sorrow and horror is shifting to fury and deep division.
Those who had previously missed the often voiced fears of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, energetic official fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the right to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.
If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in humanity is so deeply depleted. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the animosity and dread of faith-based targeting on this land or anywhere else.
And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the trite hot takes of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but no sense at all of that terrifying fragility.
This is a period when I regret not having a stronger spiritual belief. I lament, because having faith in people – in mankind’s potential for kindness – has let us down so painfully. Something else, something higher, is needed.
And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – police officers and medical staff, those who ran towards the gunfire to help others, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unheralded.
When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of social, religious and ethnic solidarity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and tolerance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a moment of targeted violence.
Consistent with the meaning of the Festival of Lights (light amid darkness), there was so much fitting reference of the need for hope.
Unity, light and compassion was the essence of faith.
‘Our shared community spaces may not appear exactly as they did again.’
And yet elements of the Australian polity responded so disgustingly quickly with fragmentation, blame and accusation.
Some elected officials gravitated straight for the pessimism, using the atrocity as a cynical opportunity to question Australia’s migration rules.
Observe the harmful message of division from longstanding agitators of Australian racial division, capitalizing on the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the statements of leadership aspirants while the investigation was ongoing.
Government has a formidable job to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and scared and seeking the light and, importantly, explanations to so many questions.
Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as probable, did such a large open-air Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully inadequate security presence? Like how could the accused attackers have six guns in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and consistently warned of the threat of antisemitic violence?
How quickly we were treated to that cliched line (or iterations of it) that it’s people not guns that cause death. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s feasible to at the same time pursue new ways to stop violent bigotry and prevent guns away from its possible perpetrators.
In this metropolis of profound splendor, of pristine blue heavens above ocean and shore, the ocean and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not look entirely familiar again to the many who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific violence.
We yearn right now for comprehension and significance, for family, and perhaps for the solace of beauty in culture or nature.
This weekend many Australians are cancelling Christmas party plans. Reflective solitude will feel more appropriate.
But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these times of fear, anger, melancholy, confusion and loss we need each other more than ever.
The reassurance of community – the human glue of the unity in the very word – is what we likely need most.
But sadly, all of the portents are that cohesion in politics and society will be elusive this extended, enervating summer.
A passionate photographer and educator with over a decade of experience in capturing life's moments through the lens.