‘Modern antisemitism strikes on our ability to live openly as Jews’

But the capacity in which I am here tonight is very different to previous years and the reason for my attendance is altogether more important and solemn.

I come on behalf of His Majesty’s government of the United Kingdom and the prime minister, Sir Keir Starmer. I come to express our outrage at the terrorist attack at Bondi Beach, to offer our condolences to the families of those killed and those injured to express our profound friendship and solidarity with the Jewish community of Australia as you come to terms with the horror of the attack and face the challenge of tackling modern antisemitism.

Earlier today, not long after I arrived in Australia, I went to Bondi and stood on the green, and reflected on the horror of what had taken place there.

Although I was appointed attorney general only 18 months ago, tragically, this is not the first time that I have spoken at Friday night services following an antisemitic terrorist attack.

As you will know, last Yom Kippur, the Heaton Park shul in Manchester was the subject of a dreadful terrorist attack – two people were murdered and others injured.

On the following Friday night I gave a D’var Torah at my own shul in North London. I spoke on behalf of the prime minister, offering our condolences to the victims and to the British Jewish community and expressing our determination to address the rise of antisemitism.

But I also spoke as a Jew, as a member of the congregation – trying to make sense of the senseless, to articulate what this meant me, my family, my community as Jews in modern Britain – and I spoke as part of a Shabbat community the natural place to come together as one, to work through the pain, bewilderment and anger together, just as communities did across the world after October 7.

Hearing the news of the attack on Yom Kippur I imagine that I went through the same range of emotions as many of you felt on December 14 here in Sydney. The first reaction is almost primal – are our family and friends safe? Your mind spins through the list of your loved ones. My eldest child is a student in Manchester and I knew she was planning on going to shul – I was being rushed to a national security meeting whilst trying to track her down.

Many of you, no doubt, were having the same agonising reactions here as the news of the horror broke. Then immediate reaction is replaced by the flood of fear, anger and outrage at what has taken place – and the knowledge that, for many families, there was no reassurance that loved ones were safe, but rather calls that went unanswered and unimaginable loss.

One sentiment that I also anticipate was shared by our two communities was the sense that, although utterly shocking, neither event was completely unexpected. They gave cruel expression to our long-standing fear of the inevitable. I have grown up in the UK, normalising that our shuls, schools and venues are by necessity protected by security for a good reason.

The attacks at Heaton Park and at Bondi Beach took place at the other side of the globe within weeks of each other. This reflects the unacceptable reality that there are very few places on this planet in which Jewish life exists without physical risk – it demonstrates the reach of modern antisemitism that strikes on our ability to live openly as Jews, to worship without fear and to belong wherever in the world we live, in the north, south, east or west.

But yet, Jewish history, like the Jewish calendar, is marked by the juxtaposition of not only sadness but joy, what has been called our dialectical dance, represented in myriad ways – for example, how we smash the glass under the chupa at weddings.

As the late Rabbi Sacks wrote, in an essay that typically for him referenced Aristotle, Kierkegaard and Robert Louis Stevenson: “In Judaism joy is the supreme religious emotion. Here we are, in a world filled with beauty. Around us is the love that moves the sun and all the stars. The soul that celebrates, sings.”

So permit me, if short of expressing joy in this moment of solemnity, at least to seek to offer some optimistic reflections about where we find ourselves.

The first is to remind ourselves that, even though our communities have been forced to endure these terrorist outrages, seen in our historical context, this remains an extraordinary time to be Jewish in our societies.

For centuries of Jewish existence, attacks on Jews would have been perpetrated by states, directly, indirectly or at best with atrocities committed whilst states and their institutions turned a blind eye. The contrast in our era is profound – every arm of the state employed to track down and prosecute those involved in terrorist crime, a determination to root out antisemitism and to protect our communities.

The genuine heartfelt expression of solidarity of our fellow citizens. A few hours after the events in Manchester, the prime minister, chancellor of the exchequer and foreign secretary attended the neilah service at West London Synagogue to show their solidarity with the Jewish community. Last week, for the first time in British history, our Cabinet meeting was addressed by a Holocaust survivor, Mala Tribich, producing tears around the table.

And I also know from conversations with colleagues in both state and federal government in Australia of our shared sense of endeavour to tackle antisemitism at home and overseas and ensure that our societies are safe for Jews to simply be Jews, without having to look over shoulders or feel that we are not free to express our beliefs and practice our religion.

Secondly, I think a positive response in both our countries has been a determination that these outrages will not be used to divide communities. We are blessed in both the UK and Australia to live in proud, tolerant and diverse nations. The Jewish values we all grew up with recognise, indeed promote this value – that love for our fellow human beings will always outshine hatred and division.

To allow our anger to dictate another path would be to hand a victory to terrorists. What greater reflection of how, united, our communities are always stronger, is the extraordinary bravery of a Muslim father of two, a proud Australian, and a hero – Ahmed al-Ahmed.

In that moment, he showed something deeply human.

A reminder of who we are, when fear doesn’t get the final say.

That unity that is mirrored in millions of relationships across this country – deep friendships forged without regard to which God we pray to or the colour of our skin.

I think we should take joy in a world in which extraordinary people choose humanity over hatred, again and again and again.

So, as we look towards the rest of 2026, we do so always mindful of the grievous loss sustained by the victims of terror, with a steely determination to root out antisemitism and intolerance in all its manifestations, but with the Jewish spirit of believing that light will always outshine darkness.

Let me end where I began. To express on behalf of the prime minister of the United Kingdom our condolences to the families of those killed and injured at Bondi Beach and our solidarity with the Australian Jewish community.

May their memory be a blessing.

Shabbat Shalom.