Allegra Spender (Wentworth, Independent) Share this | Hansard source

Bondi Beach was perfect that Sunday: hot, clear skies, cool waves and people excited for the coming holidays. Around the country, and especially in Wentworth, Jewish Australians were coming together for the start of Hanukkah. Chabad Bondi had celebrated Hannukah at Bondi Beach for years—a joyous, open celebration of music, face-painting, donuts, games and light. I left Bondi Beach with my family just an hour before the horror began.

Sunday 14 December was one of the darkest days in modern Australia. One part of our community—Jewish Australians—was murderously targeted. It was an attack on them and an attack on our Australian values. Our country will never be the same, nor should it be. The question is who we become now—how we honour the memories of the 15 beautiful people we lost and how we honour and care for the dozens who are physically injured, the countless who can never forget the trauma and bloodshed of the day, and the families who will live with the scars forever.

Every person we lost that day was a precious gift to their family and their community. Simple words are inadequate to express their light. But saying the names of those we have lost has a special place in Jewish culture. People are not gone if we continue to say their names and remember them. Rabbi Yossi Friedman tirelessly led the reading of names for 30 days at Bondi Beach, and I'll continue that here.

Cherished community member Edith Brutman; adventurous young traveller, Dan Elkayam; Boris Gurman and Sofia Gurman, who instinctively and courageously tried to stop this atrocity; Alex Kleytman, who survived the Holocaust but died in the country where he sought refuge; Rabbi Yaakov Levitan, who chose a life of devotion; former police officer and community stalwart, Peter Meagher; Reuven Morrison, who lost his life courageously challenging the gunmen; caring grandmother Marika Pogany, who delivered meals to those in need; Rabbi Eli Schlanger, a giver, and someone I was lucky enough to know personally, whose goodness and warmth I experienced firsthand; Adam Smyth, a local father, husband and friend; Boris Tetleroyd, a gentle, much-loved man and gifted musician; Tania Tretiak, who died shielding a child from gunfire; Tibor Weitzen, a great-grandfather who gave out lollipops at Bondi Chabad; and, finally, 10-year-old Matilda Britvan, a light.

May their memories be a blessing. In the words of the poet Zelda:

Each of us has a name given by God and given by our parents.

As parents, we often name our children for our hopes. The hope for Australia captured in Matilda's name is heartbreaking. How badly we have let down her parents and her family. How badly Australia failed the Jewish community that day.

When I think about the terrorists who attacked that Sunday, it's easy to despair. But then I think of the other stories of the day. I think of Boris and Sofia, a couple in their 60s who tried to stop the gunmen with their bare hands, whose courage leaves me in awe; of Reuven, who took on the terrorists only armed with a brick; of Ahmed al-Ahmed, a Syrian refugee who saved many lives by disarming one of the attackers; and of Chaya, a child herself, who put her body in front of other children.

I think of so many who risked their lives to protect others: locals, surf lifesavers and guards, young CSG guards, police, first responders, Hatzolah and tireless healthcare workers. Some of those people are in the galleries here today. Thank you, each and every one of you, for what you did when it really mattered.

Many recount the long-ago stories of Gallipoli as exemplifying the Australian spirit. I believe the stories of Sunday 14 December deserve to be cherished equally. That is the modern Australian spirit, one of courage and care. I saw that care in the quiet procession of thousands of people—locals and people who had travelled for hours, schoolchildren, sports teams, people alone and in groups, people of all faiths—laying flowers to say: 'We are devastated too. You are not alone.' I saw the care in the Paddle Out of Thousands, with the beach lined by surf lifesavers, strangers hugging, and local businesses giving coffee to first responders and flowers to mourners. I saw the care in the tears and stories that we shared at the memorial and our mitzvas. I saw our kind, melting-pot Bondi community trying to process the destruction with care for one another. One Jewish woman told me that the light she found in the darkness was that people she had not heard from in decades reached out simply to say, 'I am with you.'

We will not let the terrorists win. Australia promises that your safety and acceptance do not depend on your religion, your ethnicity or who you love. I am proud of that promise. But we must make it real for Jewish Australians, who belong here too. There have been Jews in this country since the First Fleet. Their contribution across our institutions and endeavours is boundless. They are our friends, our neighbours and our colleagues, yet many of them no longer feel safe or welcome. Security fences and guards around Jewish schools and synagogues are normalised. When I attended the bat mitzvahs of my school friends, we walked straight through the front door. Now, as a local MP, I encounter guards and barriers at almost every Jewish school or synagogue I visit.

When I think of how we must change, I look to an Australia where we don't need those guards. We don't know how long it will take, but it violates our Australian compact when a community has to pray, congregate or educate behind security. We must not tolerate it, and we must not tolerate the violent extremism that makes it necessary.

Antisemitism has become normalised in this country in a way I never thought I would see. This includes a friend of mine being sworn at as a South African Jew when asking someone to inch their car forward, and an eight-year-old girl being abused at the lights because she's holding the hand of her Orthodox father. As one mum said to me, 'How do I explain to my kids that so many people hate them?' When Jewish Australians tell me they are thinking of leaving this country, where they were born, it is a tragedy for all Australians.

As a parliament and as a country, we need to be both strong and soft right now—strong in confronting the hate that drove the attack, resolute against violent Islamic extremism and all types of violent extremism, and clear eyed and fact based about what it will take to keep the Jewish community safe; and soft so that we do not lose our common humanity in our strength. If we meet difference with suspicion rather than with curiosity, the terrorists will truly win. This work belongs to all of us, in all our workplaces, universities, schools and home and online spaces. It is not the work of weeks but of years. My commitment to the families of Bondi is that I won't move on from this when other people do.

Australia is one of the most diverse societies in human history. It is remarkable, but it is not easy. Social cohesion must be consciously built. Each of us, including everyone in this House, must personally reflect on how we contribute to that cohesion, and each of us must do better. We will disagree passionately, but we owe it to one another to disagree well. We must not dehumanise one another. We cannot fight hate with hate. As Rabbi Ulman reminded us on the last night of Hanukkah at the vigil on Bondi Beach:

Darkness is not defeated by anger or force. Darkness is transformed by light …

People are angry now, and rightly so. But, in his words, Australia must become a nation 'where kindness is louder than hate, where decency is stronger than fear'.

This was the most violent attack of hatred in modern Australia. I do believe that we as a country can emerge more united, more steadfastly committed to our common values and our shared humanity, than ever before. The stories from Bondi show us the way. The courage and the care of those Australians show us the way. This is what we owe those we have lost. This is how we honour their blessed memories. As Rabbi Ulman reminds us, this work is urgent. Let us not wait for tomorrow. Let us start today. I thank the House.

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