When hatred crosses oceans, so must responsibility
Antisemitism has reemerged in ways that are both all too familiar as well as newly emboldened.
The other day I arrived in Australia. My first trip in ten years. And while I am thrilled to be back, I find myself wishing the circumstances were different.
In December 2025, during what should have been a moment of light and celebration, the Bondi Beach Chanukah massacre shattered a community. Families that gathered for a joyful celebration were instead forced to confront terror. The images and stories from that night do not fade. Not with the Australian Jewish community and not for me.
Within hours of the attack, a small team of United Hatzalah volunteers boarded planes bound for Sydney. Not to speak. Not to stand before cameras. But to sit quietly with families, to listen, and to offer what comfort they could in the face of unbearable loss. They met parents who could not yet process what had happened, children who struggled to understand why their world had changed so suddenly, and a community searching for a sense of safety that no longer felt certain.
What they encountered was not only grief. It was something deeper. A quiet and persistent fear. The kind that does not disappear when the news cycle moves on. The kind that leads people to ask a question no society should ever force its citizens to consider. Are we still safe here?
That question has not gone away.
In the weeks leading up to my arrival, a billboard advertising an event in Melbourne where I am scheduled to speak was vandalized. It is easy to dismiss such acts as minor when compared to the horrors of Bondi. That would be a mistake. These moments are not isolated. They are signals. And when signals are ignored, they do not fade. They fester.
Across continents, in cities that once felt secure, antisemitism has reemerged in ways that are both all too familiar as well as newly emboldened. It is thinly veiled as “antizionism” a PC term to mask age-old antisemitism. It appears rampant in public discourse, news cycles and in online social media spaces. It’s hateful rhetoric, acts to intimidate and incite violence.
This is how dangerous realities take shape. Not in a single moment, but over time. Quietly at first. Then all at once.
For decades, I have worked in emergency response. I have learned that the most dangerous situations are rarely the ones that come without warning. They are the ones where the warning signs were visible but not taken seriously. The cost of hesitation in those moments is measured in lives.
Hatred follows a similar path.
This is the atmosphere that I wish was different. Yet there is hope, in the form of the historic Royal Commission on Antisemitism and Social Cohesion. This is an important step that reflects an understanding of something deeper at stake. It acknowledges the fear that has taken hold and the responsibility to address it.
My visit to Sydney and Melbourne is not only about standing with the Jewish community. It is about engaging with those who understand that what is at stake extends far beyond one group. It is about a shared responsibility to protect the values that allow diverse societies to function and to flourish and most importantly feel protected.
In Israel, we respond to emergencies without asking who the patient is. Every life is treated with equal urgency. That principle is simple, but it carries a profound truth. A society is judged by how it protects its people, all of its people.
Australia stands at such a moment.
Jews around the world are watching, not with criticism, but with expectation. Expectation that Australia’s leadership will act with courage and hopefully other nations will follow their lead.
That is why I am in Australia now and why the Royal Commission is so critical. We simply can’t afford to ignore the problem anymore.
Eli Beer is the Founder & President of United Hatzalah. He is a leading expert in the field of emergency medical services and is an innovator advancing and expanding the scope of EMS services.