The Initial Shock and Fear of the Bondi Shooting Is Giving Way to Anger and Discord. It Is Imperative We Seek Out the Hope.

As the nation settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of beach and blistering heat set to the background of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the nation's summer mood feels, sadly, like no other.

It would be a dramatic oversimplification to characterize the collective disposition after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah festivities as one of simple ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of the nation's urban centers – a tone of immediate surprise, grief and horror is shifting to anger and bitter polarization.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed fears of the Jewish community are now acutely aware. Similarly, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a much more immediate, vigorous government and institutional fight against antisemitism with the freedom to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a time for a countrywide dialogue, it is now, when our faith in humanity is so sorely depleted. This is particularly so for those of us lucky never to have endured the animosity and dread of religious and ethnic targeting on this land or anywhere else.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the banal instant opinions of those with inflammatory, polarizing views but no sense at all of that profound fragility.

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger faith. I lament, because having faith in humanity – in our potential for compassion – has failed us so acutely. Something else, a greater power, is required.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have witnessed such profound instances of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. First responders – law enforcement and paramedics, those who ran towards the gunfire to aid others, some recognised but for the most part unnamed and unheralded.

When the barrier cordon still waved wildly all about Bondi, the imperative of community, religious and cultural unity was admirably promoted by religious figures. It was a message of love and tolerance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a moment of targeted violence.

In keeping with the symbolism of Hanukah (illumination amid darkness), there was so much appropriate reference of the need for lightness.

Togetherness, hope and love was the essence of faith.

And yet elements of the Australian polity responded so disgustingly swiftly with fragmentation, finger-pointing and recrimination.

Some politicians moved straight for the pessimism, using the atrocity as a cynical chance to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the dangerous rhetoric of division from longstanding fomenters of societal discord, exploiting the massacre before the site was even cold. Then consider the statements of political figures while the investigation was ongoing.

Government has a formidable task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is grieving and frightened and seeking the light and, not least, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as probable, did such a significant open-air Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a grossly inadequate security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have multiple firearms in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so openly and repeatedly warned of the danger of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were subjected to that tired argument (or iterations of it) that it’s people not guns that kill. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s feasible to at the same time pursue new ways to prevent hate-fuelled violence and prevent firearms away from its possible perpetrators.

In this metropolis of immense beauty, of pristine azure skies above sea and sand, the water and the beaches – our communal areas – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We yearn right now for understanding and significance, for loved ones, and perhaps for the consolation of aesthetics in art or the natural world.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling holiday gathering plans. Reflective solitude will feel more appropriate.

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these days of anxiety, anger, melancholy, bewilderment and loss we require each other more than ever.

The reassurance of togetherness – the human glue of the unity in the very word – is what we probably need most.

But tragically, all of the portents are that cohesion in politics and society will be hard to find this extended, draining summer.