Just as in the 1930s, the atrocities of the Holocaust did not emerge in a vacuum – nor did they appear overnight. They were preceded by a slow, insidious unravelling: the stripping away of rights, the demonetisation of Jews in public discourse, boycotts of Jewish businesses, restrictions on Jewish participation in civic life, and relentless propaganda that normalised hate. Bit by bit, what once seemed unthinkable became reality. Today, we in Australia and across the Western world must ask ourselves – honestly and urgently – where are we headed?

Had someone told me two years ago that Australia, of all places, would be a country where Jews would fear waving their own flag, Jews would have to hide anything identifying them as Jewish, where synagogues would require armed guards or be vandalised or firebombed, and where antisemitism would be excused under the banner of ‘social justice’, I would have laughed. But today, I no longer can.

October 7 was a day of terror and heartbreak. The massacre carried out by Hamas left the world reeling. But it was what happened just two days later – on October 9 – that exposed something equally chilling. On the steps of the Sydney Opera House, crowds chanted ‘Gas the Jews’ and ‘F- the Jews’ without fear or consequence. We all know they didn’t chant ‘Where are the Jews!’ despite what this government tries to downplay. That moment, broadcast around the world, left a permanent mark on this country’s soul. It is now part of our history – a stain that no ‘light show’ can ever wash away.

And yet, the response from our leadership has not been to unequivocally condemn, correct, or confront. Instead, it has been to appease, to equivocate, and in many cases, to enable and embolden. Since the May 3 election, which handed Albanese’s Labor government a majority, we’ve seen the antisemitism dial turn up sharply. This is no longer just a fringe problem – it is being further reflected in government policy.

Visa cancellations for Israeli nationals have begun, including the revocation of entry for Hillel Fuld – a prominent Israeli speaker and tech entrepreneur – who was scheduled to deliver keynote speeches at fundraising events for Magen David Adom (MDA), Israel’s equivalent of the Red Cross. These events were not about politics. They were about saving lives – building a new emergency response centre in southern Israel. MDA is a humanitarian organisation, employing Jews, Arabs, Druze, and Christians side by side. If that’s apartheid, then the term has lost all meaning.

Founded in 1930, MDA has grown into one of the most vital components of Israel’s emergency medical infrastructure. In 2024 alone, it responded to over 3.6 million emergency calls – from daily emergencies to mass casualty incidents caused by war, terrorism, and natural disasters. It is Israel’s largest volunteer organisation and a model of multi-ethnic cooperation. Furthermore, MDA has sent dozens of humanitarian aid missions to help victims of natural disasters all over the world and are often the amongst the first on the scene to help victims of earthquakes and drought, air-crashes and terrorist attacks, fire, and famine. From Haita and Nepal to Panama and Turkey. And yet, Fuld was denied entry over an unfounded fear about how others would react – a claim made without evidence, and without regard to context.

Meanwhile, Australia has joined other Western governments – the UK, Canada, New Zealand, Norway – in sanctioning two Israeli Cabinet Ministers, Itamar Ben-Gvir and Bezalel Smotrich, accusing them of ‘inciting violence against Palestinians in the West Bank’. They now face travel bans and frozen assets. Penny Wong, in justifying the decision, spoke of a ‘steadfast commitment to a two-state solution’. But these symbolic gestures do nothing to bring peace – instead, they signal to the world that demonising Israel is fair game, even fashionable and now normalised.

Where are the sanctions on the leaders of Hamas or Hezbollah, who are on Australia’s own list of terrorist organisations? Where is the accountability for those who incite actual violence, who indoctrinate children, who use civilians as human shields, and who have stolen billions in aid while their people suffer?

The double standard is glaring. We now live in a world where Jews are told they must condemn Israel to be accepted in polite society. Where universities tolerate open support for Hamas but muzzle Jewish voices. Where ‘From the river to the sea!’ – a call for the eradication of Israel – is excused as ‘free speech’ but displaying an Israeli flag is considered ‘provocative’.

Even UNRWA – a UN agency long accused of links to terrorism – continues to receive funding from Australia, despite overwhelming evidence that its employees participated in or supported the October 7 atrocities. The Albanese government reinstated this funding with barely a pause for reflection.

The social cost is profound. Jewish students are afraid to go to class. Jewish businesses are being targeted. Schools and synagogues are on constant alert. Jewish Australians are feeling alienated, abandoned, and betrayed by a country they have contributed to for generations. Holocaust survivors told their children and grandchildren how fortunate they were to grown up in Australia, free of the antisemitism they grew up with.

We are watching history repeat itself – not in identical form, but in familiar patterns. The silencing. The scapegoating. The normalisation of hate. The claim that Jews are ‘too powerful’, ‘too privileged’, or ‘too connected’ to be considered a vulnerable minority. These are not new ideas. They are old poisons in new bottles.

To those who say ‘it’s just criticism of Israel’ – that may once have been a fair point. It no longer is. This is not just about policy – it’s about identity. It’s about the Jewish right to exist in peace, in safety, and with dignity.

I could say more – about the blatant hypocrisy, the selective outrage, the demonetisation of Israeli self-defense while excusing terror as ‘resistance’. But I think the point is clear.

Australia is at a crossroads. So is the West. The choices we make now – in politics, in media, in public discourse – will shape the kind of society we become. We can remain silent, and watch hate grow. Or we can stand up, reject double standards, and say clearly: never again doesn’t come with an asterisk.

And if you think this can’t get worse – remember: neither did they.