On the first night of Hanukkah, Jews gathered at Bondi Beach to do what Jews have always done in moments of pressure: bring light into the public, insist on life, and refuse to shrink. Families came to sing, pray, be visible, and affirm continuity in a world that increasingly urges Jews to disappear quietly. Instead, that gathering was met with terror and murder, shattering a sacred moment into another entry in a growing record of antisemitic violence.
We should grieve without hesitation, pray for the wounded, and hold the families of the murdered in our hearts. But grief alone is not enough, and prayer alone is not protection.
Bondi Beach was not an anomaly. It was the end of a long fuse that had already been lit in full view of the nation. After October 7, I watched crowds outside the Sydney Opera House chanting “death to the Jews” and “gas the Jews.” I am not relying on rumor or social media hearsay; I saw it with my own eyes, in real time, as did many others. The most damning detail is not which words were used, but that such incitement crossed from the fringes into one of Australia’s most iconic public spaces without decisive consequence. When a society debates syllables instead of enforcing boundaries, it signals that hatred will be tolerated until it becomes operational.
Just days before Bondi, I had a private briefing with the Australian Jewish Association about Hebraization and Jewish self-defense. The mood was neither theoretical nor alarmist. People on that call believed deeply that violence could happen soon and that the community was unprepared. There was also a shared sense of betrayal by a government that had been warned repeatedly about rising antisemitism but failed to update security measures with the urgency the situation required.
That conversation did not predict Bondi; it identified the conditions that made it possible. What Australia faces is not only a Jewish issue. Antisemitism has always been a warning sign of whether a society is willing to defend itself. When Jews are targeted, and responses are ambiguous, delayed, or aimed at public relations, it reveals a deeper failure of deterrence and moral clarity. History clearly shows that when the boundary against Jew-hatred weakens, it does not stop with Jews. Bondi is therefore not just a tragedy for one community but a warning about the health of the entire nation.
We are also seeing the development of what I will call, frankly and without apology, the red–green–brown convergence. This isn't a conspiracy theory about secret meetings but an analysis of incentives and outcomes that are clear across Western democracies. The radical progressive left, Islamist movements, and neo-Nazi or ethno-nationalist groups differ in culture and language, yet they converge on a shared obsession with Jews and the Jewish state. One attacks Jews through moral inversion and anti-colonial rhetoric, another through religious absolutism, and the third through racial mythology. Different origins, same target, same result.
This convergence thrives in environments where governments hesitate to enforce norms and leaders are afraid of appearing strong. When incitement is tolerated as “speech,” when calls for violence are dismissed as “anger,” and when law enforcement hesitates to draw clear boundaries, extremists learn quickly. They realize that intimidation works, that escalation is safe, and that public space can be seized through fear. Bondi was not spontaneous; it was operationalization.
Borders and immigration policies matter here, not because migration itself is the enemy, but because ideology without enforcement is a failure of national security. A serious nation distinguishes between welcoming newcomers and importing violent doctrines that reject civic order. Compassion without screening, and inclusion without assimilation into a shared ethic, is not virtue; it is negligence. When governments fail to make that distinction, minorities become the first victims of collapse. Jews, as always, are the canary in the coal mine.
Facing uncomfortable truths for Jewish leadership
Jewish leadership must also face uncomfortable truths. For too long, our institutions have prioritized fundraising, optics, and access over readiness and protection. We have organized galas instead of guardians, statements instead of systems, and conferences instead of capabilities. The result is learned helplessness hidden as prudence, a stance that assumes the state will always arrive in time. Jewish history teaches the opposite, and Bondi confirms it once again.
Jewish self-defense is not extremism. Preparedness is not provocation. Training, situational awareness, reinforced facilities, and responsible community security are acts of caring for human life. A Jew who knows how to protect his family carries himself differently, and a community that can defend itself becomes harder to terrorize. The goal of self-defense is not to fight, but to prevent fighting by maintaining deterrence. The Maccabees did not argue about optics; they defended life.
This brings us to Israel, where clarity is crucial. Criticizing Israel’s shortcomings in leadership and preparedness does not mean weakening the country during wartime. It means demanding that the Jewish state accept responsibility for the global challenges Jews now face. Since October 7, Israel mishandled key parts of the information war and failed to develop a clear, worldwide strategy for Diaspora security. At the same time, it has not built the infrastructure needed to support a sudden surge of Jewish immigrants if conditions worsen elsewhere. Legitimacy is not in question; capacity is.
This gap creates a strategic risk. If Western governments continue hesitating and Jewish communities feel increasingly vulnerable, people will leave. That is not ideology; it is human nature. Housing, jobs, and infrastructure do not appear out of nowhere, and pretending otherwise is irresponsible. Israel must be ready to welcome Jews if it is to remain the refuge it was meant to be, and Diaspora leaders must prepare their communities instead of relying on hope for survival.
Australia’s government, including the prime minister, must also be held accountable without euphemism. After October 7, the failure to decisively suppress incitement sent a message that boundaries were negotiable. Subsequent diplomatic signals regarding recognition of a Palestinian state, amid a rise in domestic antisemitism, worsened the problem by prioritizing symbolism over safety. Intent is not the issue; sequence and consequences are. A government that promotes international gestures while failing to protect its own citizens against ideological violence is showing confusion at the highest level.
This is not a partisan argument. It is a civilizational one. States exist to enforce order, protect minorities, and draw lines that prevent violence from becoming normalized. When they fail to do so, communities adapt or perish. Jewish communities are not rejecting the role of government by investing in self-defense; they are responding to a vacuum created by governmental delay. Responsibility shared is responsibility strengthened.
Hanukkah is more than a story about oil. It is a story about will, discipline, and the duty to fight for life when it is under threat. It marks a moment in Jewish history when pikuach nefesh—enshrined in Jewish law—prioritized saving lives over ritual observance, tradition, and even Shabbat. The Maccabees fought when necessary, including on Shabbat, because Jewish law is not a theology of martyrdom but a guide for survival. Hanukkah teaches that light does not defend itself, that miracles are active, not passive, and that holiness without guardianship risks destruction.
Bondi Beach illustrates what happens when visibility exceeds security, when courage replaces preparation, and when denial masks calm. The lesson now is not symbolic; it is practical. Jewish communities must rekindle their Hebrew roots—grounded in language, identity, discipline, and the unwavering right to defend Jewish life wherever it is at risk. Hebraization is not nostalgia; it is restoring a national stance that modern Zionism aimed to give the Jewish people after two thousand years of vulnerability.
Jewish self-defense must become as routine as lighting candles, as expected as teaching children their history, and as essential as the duty to save a life. We will never again confuse passivity with virtue, silence with safety, or politeness with protection.
The candles will be lit—but this time, guards will stand ready, because the Jewish people have remembered what the Maccabees gave us, and remembrance has become resolve.
Adam Scott Bellos is the Founder and CEO of the Israel Innovation Fund. He is a writer, speaker, and Zionist strategist focused on Jewish self-defense, Hebrew revival, and rebuilding Jewish communal strength in the Diaspora and Israel. His work centers on Hebraization—the restoration of Jewish language, identity, and sovereignty—as the foundation for Jewish continuity in the 21st century. He has lived in Israel for over 15 years, served in the IDF, and writes frequently on antisemitism, Jewish leadership, and the future of Zionism.