Education is key to countering antisemitism

For 15 years, I’ve called the leafy streets of Caulfield home. I have found life in Melbourne’s bagel belt welcoming, family-oriented, and safe—a place where well-dressed families walk freely to synagogue on Friday evenings, and where Jewish culture is visible in shops and streets. Yet, after the October 7 attacks on Israel, that sense of safety—for me, as a non-Jewish Australian—has shifted.

Walking south along Hawthorn Road, I pass the empty premises of a Burgertory restaurant, firebombed in 2023. No evidence links the attack to the Jewish community, yet it sparked pro-Palestine protests at a nearby park and synagogue. Two non-Jewish men have since been arrested, and the rebuilt shopfront is a reminder of escalating violence and how quickly misinformation can inflame prejudice.

The Beth Weizmann Centre, a library and community hub, has become fortress-like. It is almost unrecognisable from the place where I met Holocaust survivors Masha and Avram Zeleznikow over a decade ago. The former owners of Melbourne’s Café Scheherazade taught me about resilience and community, with Masha becoming a cherished mentor until her 2016 passing. I think of them often—about their post-war contributions to Melbourne and their view of education as a path to peace.

Heading north along Hawthorn Road, I pass the firebombed remains of shops believed to be a hate crime target. Local synagogues and schools have been vandalised, and security measures have visibly increased. Walls have gone up, and I know of Holocaust survivors in nursing homes hiding their faith out of fear. Despite this, Jewish-owned businesses have relocated to Caulfield from across Melbourne after being doxed online.
This is not the Australia I know. But it is increasingly the Australia its Jewish community feared—long before fifteen people were murdered at our nation’s most iconic beach in an antisemitic attack.

That the Jewish community repeatedly warned governments of emerging risks—and was repeatedly ignored—is a legacy those in office will eventually have to confront. Laws and policies around protest rights and responsibilities, freedom of speech, gun ownership, and community safety will inevitably form part of that conversation.
But so, too, must education.

A 2022 Gandel Foundation survey found that a quarter of Australian adults had little to no knowledge about the Holocaust (https://gandelfoundation.org.au/gandel-holocaust-survey/). Yet those with higher Holocaust awareness hold warmer feelings not only toward Jewish people but toward other minorities as well. This demonstrates the transformative power of education in nurturing understanding and the necessity of strong Holocaust education in schools.

More concerning is students’ lack of knowledge about Australian democracy. A 2025 ACARA report found only 28% of Year 10 students demonstrated a proficient grasp of Civics and Citizenship (https://www.acara.edu.au/docs/default-source/media-releases/media-release-civics-and-citizenship-2024-report-18-2-25.pdf). The McKinnon Index, an independent annual survey about the health of Australian democracy, also suggests it is not as healthy as we might hope (https://mckinnon.co/index). Only 60% of Australians aged 18–24 believe they understand how democracy works, and nearly 9% think violence is justifiable for a political cause.

These results should be a wake-up call about the necessity of compulsory national Civics and Citizenship education. Fortunately, Australia already has a strong national curriculum that aims to equip students with the skills to investigate civic issues, analyse government processes, and evaluate multiple perspectives—capacities fundamental for a diverse, tolerant, and democratic nation. Such skills are vital if we are to counter extremist views and remind young Australians of democracy’s fragility. But a strong curriculum is meaningless unless state and federal education officials mandate its delivery.

In 2022, I helped develop Victoria’s Holocaust curriculum, a collaborative effort among Jews and Gentiles, universities, museums, government officials and teachers—the first of its kind in Australia. Many assume that Holocaust education in Victoria is now compulsory. The reality is more complex.
While Holocaust education is required in Year 9/10 History, how it is taught remains a school choice. Depending on enrolments, timetables, or curriculum pressures, it may last an hour, a week, a fortnight, or a term. It may be a lecture, a film, an elective, or part of a human rights unit. It is entirely possible for Victorian students to leave school without ever learning about the Holocaust. And it should go without saying—the knowledge that Australian students have about Jews should not start and end with the Holocaust.

Year 7 students study at least one Ancient European civilisation. Jewish communities were part of Rome, Greece, and Egypt—rich contexts for teaching injustice, power, and human rights. Year 8 covers the Medieval World, potentially covering Jewish persecution and expulsion during the Black Death and the Crusades, yet Jewish history must not be framed solely as tragedy.

Year 9 offers opportunities to teach Australia’s multicultural foundations. At least 12 Jews arrived on the First Fleet in 1788. Jews contributed to the goldfields as merchants, traders, publicans, watchmakers, and bakers. The 1854 Eureka Stockade saw 13 men arrested: Jacob Sorenson, a Norwegian Jew; John Joseph, an African American; Raffaello Carboni, an Italian; and many Irish miners. Eureka’s 170th anniversary went largely unrecognised in 2024, yet it is the pivotal story that showcases the founding of modern Australian democracy as one of multicultural collaboration. Australia must reclaim Eureka—and our values of mateship, diversity, tolerance, and a fair go that predate the ANZAC legend.

World War I provides other examples of multiculturalism. Over 2,300 Jewish Australians served as ANZACs, alongside over1,000 First Nations Australians and approximately 20 Muslim Australians.

Sir John Monash—arguably the greatest Australian to have lived—was Jewish. Knighted on the Western Front for his bravery and leadership, he returned to champion a national place of mourning we now call the Shrine of Remembrance. He oversaw the transport of returning soldiers, and has a university, buildings, and roads named in his honour. Yet his faith is rarely acknowledged.

Museums also matter—Jews make up less than 1% of Australia’s population, yet we often place an unfair burden on Jewish institutions to educate on the dangers of hate. Other state and national institutions—libraries, museums, archives, and galleries—must also play a role. They already have relevant artifacts about Australia’s Jewish heritage. Making them visible to Australian students via educational programs, exhibitions, and teachable resources requires federal leadership to establish policies and secure funding to enable collaborative development.

But we mustn’t forget the Holocaust. The 2022 Gandel Foundation Holocaust Awareness survey shows that the majority of Australians support Holocaust education, and that those who learn about it have warmer feelings towards not just Jewish people but all minorities. I know the impact this education can have because, in 1991, as a high school student, I met Holocaust survivor, the late Avram Goldberg. A wonderful man, his message—that the sun might not always shine, but it will shine again—has never been more important.

Education is the bridge between fear and understanding, ignorance and inclusion, hate and tolerance. By teaching Australian students a Jewish history beyond the Holocaust, alongside a national mandate for Civics and Citizenship, we can aspire to build a more informed, compassionate, and inclusive future.

Natalie Baker is an award-winning Victorian teacher and a 2012 recipient of a Gandel Foundation Scholarship for Australian Holocaust Educators.