The Initial Shock and Terror of the Bondi Shooting Is Transitioning to Rage and Division. We Must Seek Out the Light.

As the nation settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of coast and scorching heat set to the soundtrack of Test cricket and insect sounds, this year the country’s summer atmosphere feels, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a dramatic understatement to characterize the national temperament after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Australian Jews during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of simple discontent.

Throughout the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tone of initial surprise, sorrow and horror is shifting to fury and bitter division.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are attuned to balancing the need for a much more immediate, energetic government and institutional fight against antisemitism with the freedom to demonstrate against genocide.

If ever there was a moment for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in humanity is so deeply depleted. This is particularly so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the hatred and fear of religious and ethnic persecution on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the trite hot takes of those with blistering, divisive views but little understanding at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a time when I regret not having a stronger faith. I lament, because having faith in people – in mankind’s potential for kindness – has failed us so painfully. A different source, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have seen such extreme instances of human decency. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – law enforcement and paramedics, those who ran towards the danger to aid others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still fluttered in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of community, religious and cultural unity was laudably promoted by faith leaders. It was a call of compassion and acceptance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (light amid darkness), there was so much fitting evocation of the need for lightness.

Togetherness, light and love was the message of belief.

And yet segments of the Australian polity reacted so nauseatingly swiftly with fragmentation, blame and accusation.

Some politicians gravitated straight for the darkness, using tragedy as a cynical chance to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Witness the harmful message of division from veteran agitators of Australian racial division, exploiting the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the words of leadership aspirants while the investigation was ongoing.

Politics has a daunting job to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and scared and seeking the light and, importantly, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the official terror alert was judged as probable, did such a significant public Hanukah event go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and consistently warned of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were subjected to that tired argument (or iterations of it) that it’s people not guns that kill. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s feasible to at the same time pursue new ways to prevent violent bigotry and keep firearms away from its possible actors.

In this city of immense splendor, of clear blue heavens above ocean and sand, the ocean and the beaches – our communal areas – may not seem quite the same again to the many who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We yearn right now for understanding and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in culture or the natural world.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling Christmas party plans. Quiet contemplation will seem more appropriate.

But this is perhaps somewhat counterintuitive. For in these days of anxiety, outrage, sadness, confusion and grief we need each other now more than ever.

The reassurance of togetherness – the human glue of the unity in the very word – is what we probably need most.

But sadly, all of the indicators are that unity in public life and the community will be elusive this extended, draining summer.