This is not who we are

I’m seeing a lot of media and social media posts calling the perpetrators of the act of terrorism that at current count has killed 16 people in Bondi Beach on Sunday 14^th December 2025 ‘evil’.

Calling this act ‘evil’ puts a distance between us and the people doing the harm. It makes them into a caricature, almost an archetype rather than us being able to see it for what it really is.

They’re not ‘evil’.

They’re distressingly ordinary and predictable.

This violence and terrorism is the result of a concerted campaign by right-wing media and politicians that’s been running in this country for years. It plays on the ignorance of people who are exposed to their divisive lies, lies that depend on fear of the ‘other’, anti-immigration rhetoric and the belief that only the whitest of white people are true Aussies.

Let me be as clear as possible: antisemitism is evil. It has killed millions of people worldwide, and remains a clear terrorist threat.

Does that mean I excuse Israel for its actions in Gaza? No. Never. It’s possible to condemn a genocide by a government using self-defence as an excuse and still abhor antisemitism. It’s possible to say ‘never again’ to fascism and be pro-Palestine/anti-genocide. It’s possible to be horrified and also know that our Australian and global Jewish and Muslim communities are not represented by these violent acts.

People are capable of monstrous acts, but they’re just people. The banality of their ordinariness is what gobsmacks us, and makes us want to make them scarier. That’s why we call them evil and build them up to be looming, almost mythical figures: so we can justify our feelings of fear that their acts engender.

The language we use when talking about these things matters. Using ‘evil’ to stir up fear in our community is to create a bogeyman for people to aim their fear at. It fuels hatred of the religion and community these individuals belong to, and that is what creates the conditions that get innocent people hurt.

The vast majority of Australians are feeling a mixture of disbelief, numbness, grief and pain at the awful events on Bondi Beach last night.

I’ve seen many TikToks made by young white Aussie blokes in their utes (trucks, for the US-dwelling amongst us), reminding us that this is not who we are. Saying we need to remember what makes us Australian: coming together to honour our multiculturalism, our diversity and our community spirit.

I agree: we look after each other when crises happen, like the multitude of helping humans who did everything from disarming one of the gunmen (thank you to Ahmed Al-Ahmed), to sprinting from nearby Tamarama with medical supplies, to filming so there’s ample evidence for the police to work with, and to opening houses nearby to shelter people running from the scene.

Our collective grief and flags at half-mast across the nation today remind us of who we are. We’re a nation more similar than different, of caring citizens who might not always understand others’ way of life, but who care more deeply for the right to live peacefully than about condemning each other for being different.

I know in saying that that it doesn’t always feel like we’re an accepting community, especially if you’re disabled, brown, black, immigrant or in some other way not as privileged as white or white-passing Australians. And it definitely doesn’t feel that way when some of our very vocal but not very powerful politicians get given a microphone by the media to drive views and clicks.

It’s really important that while we’re heartened by looking for the helpers, coming together as a community, and paying tribute to those we’ve lost that we don’t forget to look at the mechanisms that caused this to happen. The ongoing tolerance for hate speech under the guise of ‘free speech’. The ongoing whipping up of support for anti-immigration sentiments, the sleight of hand with which the media moguls, billionaires and others who benefit from outrage and hatred use as clickbait, to ratchet up their profits. We must look at the ways in which we fail to recognise our algorithmic biases and the slippery slopes of conspiracy theory sentiments that sneak in undetected until it’s too late to save anyone.

Ordinary people do ordinary, horrifyingly evil acts. But they’re a symptom of a greater issue, one that needs addressing as a matter of urgency in our country.

But the immediate outpouring of support, love and shared grief for our Jewish community also sends a clear message. As we proved at the last Federal election where the right-wing candidates not only lost by a landslide but also lost their seats completely, division and hate have no place here.

We don’t want it, we don’t like it, and we’d like to think it’s not who we are.