In the shadow of a
religious celebration undone by racist gunfire, let us resolve to speak
fiercely, act boldly, and love without borders.
By Fareed Khan
A version of this article can be found on Substack.
As the sun hung low on the horizon over Sydney, Australia’s iconic
Bondi Beach on December 14, 2025—the first night of Hanukkah—joyous
families and friends gathered for a public celebration of light,
resilience, and Jewish heritage. Laughter mingled with the crackle of
menorah flames, as the salty ocean breeze carried a symbol of hope, of
light pushing back the darkness. Then, in an instant, the unthinkable
shattered the moment. Two gunmen opened fire on the crowd, turning an
occasion of unity into a scene of unimaginable horror. As the hours
passed the death toll had climbed to 15, including one of the attackers,
with 40 more wounded, and a community forever scarred.
This was no random act of violence. Australian authorities swiftly declared it a terrorist attack explicitly targeting the Jewish community, a brazen assault on people simply for being who they are. The images emerging from Bondi are gut-wrenching--bloodied sidewalks where families once strolled, survivors clutching each other as first responders arrived to help those injured and count the dead. As more details pour in the weight of this tragedy presses upon us all. It’s a stark reminder that hate doesn’t lurk in shadows, it marches boldly into our public spaces, emboldened by those who amplify its venom.
This atrocity didn’t erupt in isolation. Hate festers in fertile soil cultivated by demagogues with megaphones—politicians who stoke division for votes, influencers who peddle conspiracy theories for clicks, and tech titans who prioritize profits over people. Platforms once hailed as connectors now serve as echo chambers for extremism, where algorithms reward outrage and shield the architects of division. In Australia, as elsewhere, we’ve watched anti-Jewish hate surge, often linked with geopolitical flash points, but rooted in ancient prejudices. The gunmen, likely radicalized online, didn’t act alone. They were enabled by a digital ecosystem that normalizes the dehumanization of Jews, Muslims, and anyone deemed “other.”
We need only look at places like Canada, the US and New Zealand to see the pattern repeat with devastating familiarity. On January 29, 2017, a white supremacist stormed the Islamic Cultural Centre in Quebec City, gunning down six Muslim worshippers in prayer, injuring 19 more in a hail of bullets fuelled by hate. On October 27, 2018 a man attacked the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh during Shabbat morning services, killing 11 and wounding six. On March 15, 2019 a white supremacist gunman walked into two mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand spraying the worshippers with gunfire killing 51 Muslim worshippers and injuring another 40. And in June 2021, in the quiet streets of London, Ontario, a white supremacist plowed his truck into the Afzaal family who were out for a walk, killing four representing three generations and leaving a nine-year-old orphaned.
These weren’t isolated incidents. They were symptoms of a rising tide of hate, where extremists find validation in unchecked online vitriol and political dog-whistling. We reflexively call such violence “senseless,” a word that absolves us of deeper scrutiny. But to the perpetrators and their enablers, it makes perfect sense. For them, it’s a twisted fulfillment of ideologies that paint entire communities as threats—Jews as puppet-masters, Muslims as invaders. These prophets of poison sow seeds in forums, feeds, and rallies, watching them bloom into real-world carnage. And too often, our leaders respond with platitudes—”thoughts and prayers,” task forces producing recommendations in reports that gather dust, funding for security that feels like a band-aid on a gaping wound.
Meanwhile, tech billionaires, those self-anointed visionaries, tweak algorithms not to curb hate but to keep users scrolling, turning outrage into revenue. They are joined by right wing political figures, chasing populist applause, flirting with conspiracies that embolden the fringes. The result? No corner of our world—no beach side festival, no house of worship, no quiet neighbourhood walk—is safe from the creeping cancer of hate.
Make no mistake, the massacre at Bondi Beach transcends borders and politics. Regardless of one’s stance on Israel, Zionism, or the genocide in Gaza, the victims were targeted for their Jewishness alone—lighting candles, sharing stories, embracing life. It’s no different from the carnage unleashed in Pittsburgh in 2018 or what happened in Christchurch in 2019. These were people gunned down for their faith. Hate unites against minority communities, whether on a beach in Sydney or a London, Ontario suburb.
We’ve seen parallel horrors in anti-Palestinian attacks in the West Bank, attacks against Muslims in North America and Europe, anti-Jewish attacks in the US and France. Each echoes the same refrain—sowing division and hate begets carnage.
Yet herein lies our power—and our peril. If hate thrives on silence, it crumbles under a collective roar. Therefore, it is incumbent on each of us, as individuals and communities, to dismantle this poisonous machinery before it claims more lives. As individuals we can start small but we must start now. We must call out the casual racism we witness in our lives, and in our social media feeds. We must amplify those voices that speak out against hate of any sort, and demand accountability from social media platforms that do nothing to shut down hate speech. We must urge leaders to fund not just security but public education, and promote empathy-building programs that inoculate youth against extremism.
As communities, we must weave safety nets of solidarity through cultural sensitivity training, and schools that teach media literacy alongside math, workplaces that enforce zero-tolerance for prejudice. Governments can’t legislate hearts, but we as individuals and communities can model change—voting for politicians and parties that commit to investing in immigrant integration, promoting digital ethics, and investing in public education programs that show the benefits of diversity. And let’s reject the false comfort of “it can’t happen here,” because it already has, from Bondi to Christchurch to Pittsburgh to Quebec City, and it will again unless we act.
What happens next is dependent on how we respond. Silence is complicity, inaction is an invitation to more horrific events like Bondi Beach and Christchurch. In the shadow of a religious celebration undone by racist gunfire, let us resolve to speak fiercely, act boldly, and love without borders. For in unity, we don’t just mourn the lost—we honor them by ensuring their light continues to shine. The prophets of hate may howl, but our chorus of compassion will drown them out because there are more of us. The time to act is now. The duty to act is ours. So what are we waiting for?
© 2025 The View From Here. © 2025 Fareed Khan. All Rights Reserved.
This was no random act of violence. Australian authorities swiftly declared it a terrorist attack explicitly targeting the Jewish community, a brazen assault on people simply for being who they are. The images emerging from Bondi are gut-wrenching--bloodied sidewalks where families once strolled, survivors clutching each other as first responders arrived to help those injured and count the dead. As more details pour in the weight of this tragedy presses upon us all. It’s a stark reminder that hate doesn’t lurk in shadows, it marches boldly into our public spaces, emboldened by those who amplify its venom.
This atrocity didn’t erupt in isolation. Hate festers in fertile soil cultivated by demagogues with megaphones—politicians who stoke division for votes, influencers who peddle conspiracy theories for clicks, and tech titans who prioritize profits over people. Platforms once hailed as connectors now serve as echo chambers for extremism, where algorithms reward outrage and shield the architects of division. In Australia, as elsewhere, we’ve watched anti-Jewish hate surge, often linked with geopolitical flash points, but rooted in ancient prejudices. The gunmen, likely radicalized online, didn’t act alone. They were enabled by a digital ecosystem that normalizes the dehumanization of Jews, Muslims, and anyone deemed “other.”
We need only look at places like Canada, the US and New Zealand to see the pattern repeat with devastating familiarity. On January 29, 2017, a white supremacist stormed the Islamic Cultural Centre in Quebec City, gunning down six Muslim worshippers in prayer, injuring 19 more in a hail of bullets fuelled by hate. On October 27, 2018 a man attacked the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh during Shabbat morning services, killing 11 and wounding six. On March 15, 2019 a white supremacist gunman walked into two mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand spraying the worshippers with gunfire killing 51 Muslim worshippers and injuring another 40. And in June 2021, in the quiet streets of London, Ontario, a white supremacist plowed his truck into the Afzaal family who were out for a walk, killing four representing three generations and leaving a nine-year-old orphaned.
These weren’t isolated incidents. They were symptoms of a rising tide of hate, where extremists find validation in unchecked online vitriol and political dog-whistling. We reflexively call such violence “senseless,” a word that absolves us of deeper scrutiny. But to the perpetrators and their enablers, it makes perfect sense. For them, it’s a twisted fulfillment of ideologies that paint entire communities as threats—Jews as puppet-masters, Muslims as invaders. These prophets of poison sow seeds in forums, feeds, and rallies, watching them bloom into real-world carnage. And too often, our leaders respond with platitudes—”thoughts and prayers,” task forces producing recommendations in reports that gather dust, funding for security that feels like a band-aid on a gaping wound.
Meanwhile, tech billionaires, those self-anointed visionaries, tweak algorithms not to curb hate but to keep users scrolling, turning outrage into revenue. They are joined by right wing political figures, chasing populist applause, flirting with conspiracies that embolden the fringes. The result? No corner of our world—no beach side festival, no house of worship, no quiet neighbourhood walk—is safe from the creeping cancer of hate.
Make no mistake, the massacre at Bondi Beach transcends borders and politics. Regardless of one’s stance on Israel, Zionism, or the genocide in Gaza, the victims were targeted for their Jewishness alone—lighting candles, sharing stories, embracing life. It’s no different from the carnage unleashed in Pittsburgh in 2018 or what happened in Christchurch in 2019. These were people gunned down for their faith. Hate unites against minority communities, whether on a beach in Sydney or a London, Ontario suburb.
We’ve seen parallel horrors in anti-Palestinian attacks in the West Bank, attacks against Muslims in North America and Europe, anti-Jewish attacks in the US and France. Each echoes the same refrain—sowing division and hate begets carnage.
Yet herein lies our power—and our peril. If hate thrives on silence, it crumbles under a collective roar. Therefore, it is incumbent on each of us, as individuals and communities, to dismantle this poisonous machinery before it claims more lives. As individuals we can start small but we must start now. We must call out the casual racism we witness in our lives, and in our social media feeds. We must amplify those voices that speak out against hate of any sort, and demand accountability from social media platforms that do nothing to shut down hate speech. We must urge leaders to fund not just security but public education, and promote empathy-building programs that inoculate youth against extremism.
As communities, we must weave safety nets of solidarity through cultural sensitivity training, and schools that teach media literacy alongside math, workplaces that enforce zero-tolerance for prejudice. Governments can’t legislate hearts, but we as individuals and communities can model change—voting for politicians and parties that commit to investing in immigrant integration, promoting digital ethics, and investing in public education programs that show the benefits of diversity. And let’s reject the false comfort of “it can’t happen here,” because it already has, from Bondi to Christchurch to Pittsburgh to Quebec City, and it will again unless we act.
What happens next is dependent on how we respond. Silence is complicity, inaction is an invitation to more horrific events like Bondi Beach and Christchurch. In the shadow of a religious celebration undone by racist gunfire, let us resolve to speak fiercely, act boldly, and love without borders. For in unity, we don’t just mourn the lost—we honor them by ensuring their light continues to shine. The prophets of hate may howl, but our chorus of compassion will drown them out because there are more of us. The time to act is now. The duty to act is ours. So what are we waiting for?
© 2025 The View From Here. © 2025 Fareed Khan. All Rights Reserved.
No comments:
Post a Comment