The Immediate Impact and Fear of the Bondi Shooting Is Giving Way to Rage and Discord. We Must Look For the Light.

As Australia settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday during languorous days of beach and scorching heat set to the background of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer atmosphere seems, unfortunately, like no other.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to describe the national temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of mere ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most iconically beautiful of the nation's urban centers – a tenor of initial surprise, grief and horror is shifting to anger and deep polarization.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed concerns of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Just as, they are sensitive to balancing the need for a far more urgent, energetic official crackdown against antisemitism with the freedom to demonstrate against genocide.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our belief in mankind is so sorely diminished. This is especially so for those of us fortunate enough never to have endured the animosity and fear of faith-based persecution on this land or anywhere else.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the trite hot takes of those with inflammatory, divisive views but little understanding at all of that profound vulnerability.

This is a period when I lament not having a greater faith. I mourn, because having faith in people – in our capacity for kindness – has let us down so painfully. Something else, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such extreme instances of human goodness. The courageous acts of ordinary people. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – police officers and paramedics, those who charged into the gunfire to help fellow humans, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of social, faith-based and ethnic solidarity was laudably promoted by religious figures. It was a message of love and tolerance – of unifying rather than dividing in a time of targeted violence.

Consistent with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (light amid darkness), there was so much appropriate reference of the need for lightness.

Togetherness, hope and love was the message of faith.

And yet segments of the political landscape responded so nauseatingly quickly with division, blame and accusation.

Some elected officials moved straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a calculating opportunity to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the harmful message of division from longstanding fomenters of societal discord, capitalizing on the massacre before the site was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the investigation was still active.

Politics has a daunting task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is mourning and frightened and looking for the light and, not least, answers to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as probable, did such a significant open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a woefully inadequate protection? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the residence when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and consistently alerted of the danger of targeted attacks?

How quickly we were treated to that tired argument (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not guns that kill. Of course, both things are true. It’s possible to at the same time seek new ways to prevent hate-fuelled violence and keep guns away from its potential actors.

In this metropolis of immense splendor, of clear azure skies above ocean and sand, the ocean and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not seem quite the same again to the many who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We long right now for understanding and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in art or nature.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling Christmas party plans. Quiet contemplation will feel more in order.

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these times of fear, outrage, sadness, confusion and grief we need each other now more than ever.

The reassurance of togetherness – the binding force of the unity in the very word – is what we likely need most.

But tragically, all of the indicators are that unity in politics and the community will be hard to find this long, draining summer.