Sussan Ley (Farrer, Liberal Party, Leader of the Opposition) Share this | Hansard source

I rise with a heavy heart to speak on behalf of the opposition to join with all members of this parliament in expressing our deepest condolences and sorrow for the 15 innocent lives taken by the horrific terror attack at Bondi Beach on 14 December 2025. I acknowledge victims-survivors and families in the gallery today. This deadly and deliberate attack on Jews on Australian soil was on the first night of Hanukkah, the festival of lights—the night that should have been filled with joy and hope, not darkness and hate. Many never imagined such a horror could take place on our shores, but it did.

People who were there told me their stories—covering their children with their bodies, running to safety, screaming and searching for loved ones while a part of them felt no surprise, just the cold weight of expectation realised. 'We somehow knew it would come to this,' they said. But how? Surely this is something that happens elsewhere, not in Australia, the land of the fair go—the Australia that opened its arms to Jewish parents and grandparents as they fled the horrors of the Holocaust, where Jewish Australians have embodied our core values of service, duty, mateship and humanity. We honour those we lost by answering this question: how did this happen, and how can we make sure it never happens again?

Fifteen precious lives. Boris and Sofia Gurman—Boris, 69, and his wife, Sofia, 61, had been married for 34 years. Rabbi Eli Schlanger, 41 years old, was a devoted rabbi and chaplain, and father of five. Edith Brutman, 68, was a beloved member of the Sydney Jewish community and a woman of great principle. Adam Smyth, 50, was a local Bondi resident, a loving husband to his wife, Katrina, and father of four children. Boris Tetleroyd, 68, was a gentle soul and a gifted musician, and there was 10-year-old Matilda, whose parents named their firstborn, in their words, 'with the most Australian name that could ever exist'. Marika Pogany, 82—known lovingly as Omi—was a mother, grandmother and pillar of her community; Peter Meagher, 61, a retired New South Wales police detective sergeant, who spent 34 years of his career protecting others; and Dan Elkayam, 27, a young man in the prime of his life. Reuven Morrison, 62, was a businessman, philanthropist and patriarch of his family; and Tibor Weitzen, 78, a father, grandfather and great-grandfather. Alexander Kleytman was an 87-year-old Holocaust survivor, who managed to survive the worst tragedy in human history, where six million Jews were murdered, but could not survive Australia's antisemitism crisis. Rabbi Yaakov Levitan, 39, was a deeply-committed religious and community leader and Tania Tretiak, 68, a much-loved member of the Randwick community.

I know that no list of qualities or achievements can capture the full lives that were lived, nor the pain now felt by those left behind. In the past weeks I have attended funerals and memorials. I was with those who sat shiva with families in their deepest grief, and I have held the hands of mothers who lost children, children who lost parents, husbands and wives who lost their beloved partners.

Amid the horror of that evening, we also witnessed the very best of the Australian spirit—the selflessness, bravery and love emerging from the darkness. Ordinary people became heroes. Among them was Ahmed al-Ahmed, a father of two, who'd brought his own family to the beach that evening. Amid the chaos, he acted. Unarmed and alone, he disarmed one of the gunmen, disrupted the killing and gave others precious seconds to escape. It is clear that many Australians are alive today because of what he did. And there was Boris Gurman who, with his wife Sofia by his side, confronted one of the attackers with his bare hands, holding onto the weapon for several seconds before they were both killed. Reuven Morrison, too, ran towards the gunfire. He picked up a brick and hurled it at the attacker to try to halt the carnage, drawing fire away from others and saving lives. Gefen Bitton, another bystander, ran towards danger as well and was shot multiple times. He's still recovering from his injuries, and we offer him our gratitude and our prayers. Rabbi Leibel Lazaroff, visiting from Texas, played a quiet but vital role, helping shepherd dozens of people to safety, tending to those in shock and offering spiritual support amongst the trauma.

We also pay tribute to the surf lifesavers and local lifeguards, who rushed to the scene even while the attack was ongoing. They used surfboards as makeshift stretchers, tore through their supply of first aid bandages and sheltered around 250 people inside the surf club. Our emergency service personnel—police, paramedics, doctors, nurses and firefighters—all responded with extraordinary professionalism and courage. New South Wales police officers confronted the attackers, shooting one dead and critically wounding the other, ending the massacre and saving lives. Hospitals across Sydney were put on alert. Thanks to the skill of medical teams, many of the wounded survived. We've heard harrowing accounts of first responders performing CPR, of off-duty doctors in the crowd who sprang into action to tend to the injured, and of bystanders comforting strangers in shock. To all those who helped in those dark moments, we say 'thank you'. The whole country is grateful for your selflessness. This attack showed us the worst of humanity, but, in its wake, we have truly seen the best of Australia.

Antisemitic hate fuelled the terrorists on 14 December, but it came out of the shadows in October 2023. It walked our streets. It marched over our bridges. It took over our landmarks. It camped in university quadrangles. It painted graffiti on our buildings. It firebombed our places of worship. It sent children to school behind locked gates and armed guards. Like a slow, creeping disease, it festered in plain sight. Jewish Australians do not feel safe, and if Jewish Australians do not feel safe then no Australian feels safe. You warned of this menacing storm, and you said you felt unheard. The coalition heard you.

We must unite as a parliament to confront and defeat this evil. To do so, we must face uncomfortable truths. Radical Islamist extremism caused this. I repeat: radical Islamist extremism caused this. Leaders need to be able to express this clearly, because if you can't name the problem you can't possibly defeat it. For too long, many in our society, especially in positions of authority, have failed to act decisively. It should not have taken the murder of 15 people for us to open our eyes to the dangers of antisemitism in Australia. As leaders, we have a sacred responsibility to protect our citizens from such hate-fuelled violence. We owe it to the memories of those we lost and, more than anything, we owe it to the nation's children, who are born without hate in their hearts.

Victims' families, eminent Australians and millions of ordinary Australians called for a Commonwealth royal commission. Through anguish and heartache and grief and horror, those calls intensified. Now that the royal commission has been established, we must make sure that it's free to do its work independently, without fear, favour or interference. But I say to the families here today: you are owed an apology for how long it took. You should never have had to juggle grieving your lost ones with national advocacy for the royal commission you so understandably wanted and deserved.

In the days following the attack, something remarkable happened. Across Australia, people of all faiths and backgrounds lit candles and placed them in their windows. In cities and towns far from Bondi, people held prayer vigils and gathered in quiet shared sorrow. At Bondi Beach itself, a sea of flowers bloomed outside the pavilion where the attack took place.

I was there every day for a week. You had to be present to actually feel the grief, the pain, the bewilderment and, yes, the anger—because there has been anger through the heartache. So many times, we heard: 'I don't want your words. I want something to be done.' At funerals and on the streets, I saw strangers weep for someone they never knew and watched volunteers embrace survivors they had only just met. I spoke with a young woman who survived the attack and saved others. She said: 'I'm not a hero. Any Aussie would have done the same.' I sat with a lady in her 70s weeping on a park bench. 'We had a tough time when we came here as migrants,' she said, 'but nobody wanted to kill us.'

Today, this parliament mourns for the families lost from this lethal act of terror and with those on the long, uncertain road to recovery. We say to them: you are not alone. Your pain is shared by an entire nation. We cannot fully comprehend the depth of your grief, but we will walk beside you in the days and years to come. We will remember your loved ones not just as victims of a terrible crime but as vibrant individuals who lived, loved and contributed enormously to our country.

In the aftermath of this tragedy, we must strive to ensure that the memories of those 15 beautiful souls truly become a blessing—a blessing that inspires us to build a more cohesive and compassionate Australia, one where we meet this moment of truth and respond with moral courage and moral clarity. There's no better legacy for the future than the message of strength I heard delivered by Rabbi Ulman at Rabbi Schlanger's funeral to the next generation of Jewish Australians, and I echo that message today. Lift your eyes and stand tall. Be brave. Be proud of your Jewish heritage and your Jewish faith. You should never have to hide who you are or what you believe in. We will fight every single day for an Australia where you are loved, valued and safe.

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