Walking between two different Australias

This week I walked between two Australias.

In one, a visiting President addressed a Jewish community still raw from trauma, still grieving, still watchful. The room was full but not fevered. It carried the weight of history rather than the heat of rage. Elderly Holocaust survivors sat beside teenagers in school blazers. There were accents from Warsaw and Baghdad and Johannesburg and Caulfield. Some people sang softly under their breath; others stood in silence, hands clasped. When applause came, it came not as frenzy but as affirmation – measured and grateful.

The flags of both Australia and Israel were flown.

That detail matters. Two democracies, two imperfect states, side by side. Not as rivals. But as homes.

And we were ringed by police standing guard outside, protecting us. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder around the venue and in the streets nearby. Their presence was calm, professional, untheatrical. Inside the hall, when they were acknowledged, we cheered them. As we entered and left, I heard it again and again: “Thank you for protecting us.” Not whispered. Not muttered. Said clearly with eye contact and genuine feeling.