MATTERS OF PUBLIC IMPORTANCE
Mr TIM WILSON (Goldstein) (15:44): On the morning of 7 October 2023, young men and women danced at sunrise at the Nova dance festival and farmers awoke at the kibbutzim in southern Israel. But the peace was broken by Hamas terrorists who abused the trust of those they had deliberately built that trust with to launch attacks, horrific attacks, that are now counted as the biggest loss of Jewish life since the Holocaust.
Women, men, children and babies were murdered. Women were raped, mutilated and paraded. Two years on, 48 hostages remain in Gaza.
Among them is a 19-year-old woman; others are as old as 85. It's quite simple: bring them home. October 7 should never have happened.
It certainly should have been the end, but it was the beginning. On 8 October, we had protests on the steps of the Sydney Opera House celebrating the attacks. Shortly after that we had intimidation in Princes Park outside Central Shule in the Goldstein electorate.
Left unchecked, the crisis of antisemitism has spread across Australia and is lived by Jewish Australians—from abuse and graffiti to firebombings. There's no place for antisemitism in Australia, nor should international conflicts become the basis for targeting our fellow citizens. Since then, we have had an aggressive and, we need to acknowledge, at times successful global propaganda effort to delegitimise Israel defending its national security and defending the interests of its citizens from the terrorist organisation Hamas.
Many Australians of good intention, of course, are looking at the situation overseas and are disgusted at the rise of antisemitism at home, struggling to understand these events and the impact they've had. To those Australians, I recommend reading the book Ruptured: Jewish Women in Australia Reflect on Life Post-October 7, edited by Lee Kofman and Tamar Paluch.
I recommend it because so many people are trying to make sense of these events and understand the impact that they've had on Australians. It brings home how our fellow Australians have felt in the months and years since October 7. In her chapter 'In case I ever get kidnapped', Tamar Paluch wrote: I have never felt my identities as a mother and a Jew activated as powerfully and urgently as in these times.
The world in which I was once fluent and comfortable feels alien and untrustworthy. Jemima Montag wrote in 'Nana's bracelet': … I had made an active decision to conceal my Jewish identity to protect my safety and mental health … Other contributors, like Noa Gomberg, wrote: Frankly, I'm still not sure why or how the queer community grew so vulnerable to Hamas propaganda—considering they routinely slaughter us in Gaza—or how it has become popular to accessorise keffiyehs with pride pins.
There is this deep sense of betrayal. In addressing some of the issues of re-traumatisation, particularly from the Holocaust, Dani Valent wrote in her chapter 'Open hiding': I used to feel the same as my brother: we did not suffer intergenerational trauma. But I have realised it was waiting in my blood.
My cells seized with it and they have not eased. The rhetoric around the Hamas attacks and the Israeli response has been like screams in my face … In her chapter 'North of the river', Siana Einfeld wrote explicitly about the betrayal she has experienced. She wrote: On December 18 2023— shortly after the attacks— Darebin City Council, which has never once passed a motion about any other foreign conflict, pushed through a motion solely condemning Israel for the war it did not start. … The motion did not once mention the killing spree of October 7.
It did not acknowledge the plight of the hostages nor the mass sexual violence perpetrated by Hamas against Israeli girls and women. In her chapter 'The crack and the light', Melinda Jones wrote: It was particularly painful to see how the feminist movement, including many of my friends, responded to October 7. They took two inconsistent positions, one involving justification of what happened and the other denial. … Men were the violators; women were the victims of horrific sexual violence.
It was not so long ago that rape in war was recognised as a war crime, as the world is reminded annually on the International Day for the Elimination of Sexual Violence in Conflict. But, according to some of my feminist ex-friends, 'rape is resistance'. Somehow the women who were abused, deserved it.
In her chapter 'The woman in the arena', Simonne Whine wrote of how it has inspired her. She wrote: One thing I have realised is that the true arena isn't a place you enter deliberately, for glory. The arena chooses you. … I will continue to fight, not just for myself, but for my children, for my people, for our future in Australia.
Because history has shown us, time and time again, the cost of silence. Rabbi Jacqueline Ninio in 'And still we dance' said: It takes great courage to believe that there will be a better tomorrow, that we will dance again in freedom. (Time expired)