Bondi attack must prompt a reflection on antisemitism in the arts

Shortly after the Bondi massacre, I joined an informal gathering of Jews who came together to share in our shock and grief.

We were broad in age, ranging from toddlers to people in their mid-70s and mostly progressively minded. You don’t have to ask twice for guests to offer an opinion at a Jewish function.

So when the convenor asked if anyone wanted to speak their mind, there was no shortage of volunteers. Speakers expressed devastation, dismay and a determination to continue living openly Jewish lives, among many emotions.

But I was most struck by a young woman who described attending a friend’s wedding, shortly before the Bondi atrocity, where she was chatting to a man in his late 20s. Somehow the topic of her Jewish identity came up.

The man asked if he could pose a question but stressed he did not want to cause offence. This young woman braced, anticipating a difficult discussion about the war in Gaza or stereotypes about money and power. Instead, she was shocked when he said: “Do you think the Holocaust actually happened? Because it sounds like a really convenient storyline for a film.”

A collective gasp swept our room as the young woman recounted this experience. Her story weighed on me for days afterwards.

Something fundamental has shifted in the lives of Jewish Australians since Hamas terrorists invaded Israel, murdering 1200 people on October 7, 2023, and the subsequent military response from the Israeli Defence Forces that has claimed the lives of more than 70,000 Palestinians.

The young woman’s experience is consistent with something I have seen myself: the proliferation and enabling of antisemitism particularly in the creative, intellectual and cultural spheres.

There has been widespread condemnation of the hate-filled massacre perpetrated by the two gunmen at Bondi. Gun laws will change. There is a focus on hate speech. But this moment calls for much more than that.

We need deep introspection from the creative and cultural communities that, for too long, have sidelined and created a hostile landscape for Australian Jews.

The murders of many young women rightfully prompted widespread reflection about disrespect for women and entitlement of men across the Australian community. Political leaders urged men to call out bad attitudes. Commentators and activists thrust gender inequality back into the spotlight. Now we need a similar far-reaching reflection about antisemitism.

Last year, I returned to university to start an oral history and creative nonfiction project about my 102-year-old grandmother – a Holocaust survivor from Berlin. It brought me into contact with many other Jewish writers.

I loved talking about our different projects, but these conversations almost always came with a warning from those more experienced than me: the creative industries have become increasingly unwelcoming, if not outright hostile, to Jewish projects.

There is evidence to support this assertion. A report released in August by the Australian Centre for Jewish Civilisation at Monash University uses the term “ambient antisemitism” to describe this phenomenon.

It describes antisemitism in the creative and cultural industries as a systemic issue exposing contradictions in the values of cultural inclusion, diversity and the importance of lived experience.

“Many stakeholders attributed their experiences to ‘unconscious antisemitism’, which is a lack of understanding that certain views are harmful or damaging, resulting in the perpetuation of harm without anticipating the consequences,” the report said.

The research documents how social media platforms have become sites of political mobilisation and harassment within creative communities. I have seen too many people suffer from it.

The report is based on 95 research participants, including artists, philanthropists and arts industry representatives who attended one-on-one interviews or a group workshop.

It found many Jewish artists had withdrawn from former creative networks or public roles after experiencing “professional cultural homelessness”.

The problem with ambient antisemitism is it is difficult to pin down and harder to prove. Often, conversations about scrapped shows or nixed book deals are held verbally, leaving no digital trail. But for those experiencing it, the consequences are real and life changing.

For two years Jewish artists and writers have raised the alarm about concerts being cancelled, book deals withdrawn, and art galleries targeted.

Acclaimed documentary maker Danny Ben-Moshe has completed shooting a film on antisemitism in the Australian arts. He says Jewish artists often feel the arts community just isn’t interested in their experiences of antisemitism.

“Lived experience is supposed to be believed, except for us [Jews],” he says.

I know a singer whose gig was canned at the last minute after the venue took issue with them expressing grief on social media about the deaths of Israelis on October 7.

One writer who had already published successful books told me they scrapped a manuscript after their publisher suggested it was not a good time for Jewish stories. Another published writer said they considered writing Jewish characters out of an upcoming story so it may have some chance of making it to bookstores. How heartbreaking.

I have spoken to many artists and writers about the isolation they have felt within their creative communities. I agreed to keep them anonymous because they fear speaking up will damage their careers.

If that sounds far-fetched, consider the experiences of nearly 600 Jewish artists and academics in a private WhatsApp group last year whose details were leaked on a spreadsheet by activists.

Artists I have spoken to feel strongly that Palestinians have a right to self-determination. Many abhor the settlements in the West Bank. Some joined mass rallies in Israel protesting the Netanyahu government’s policies.

Despite their yearning for a peaceful two-state solution in the Middle East, many Jewish creatives have felt disavowing Israel and their Zionism was the cost of re-entry into the spheres where they once belonged. It is a price they are unwilling to pay, considering many have strong familial, cultural and religious ties to Israel.

For millennia, Jews have made enormous contributions to the arts. Our works have often dealt with the pain that comes with centuries of persecution.

Many Jews in my community want to keep creating art and music and writing stories, searching for understanding about their place in an increasingly unfriendly world. Now, more than ever in the history of Australian Jewry, these stories should be heard. They are so much more than convenient story lines.

Benjamin Preiss is The Age’s regional editor and a postgraduate student at the Australian Centre for Jewish Civilisation.

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