The Immediate Impact and Fear of the Bondi Shooting Is Giving Way to Anger and Division. It Is Imperative We Seek Out the Hope.

As the nation settles into for a customary Christmas holiday during slow-moving days of coast and blistering heat accompanied by the soundtrack of sporting matches and insect sounds, this year the nation's summer atmosphere feels, sadly, like no other.

It would be a significant understatement to characterize the collective temperament after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during the beachside Hanukah festivities as one of simple discontent.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tenor of initial surprise, grief and horror is segueing to anger and deep division.

Those who had not picked up on the frequently expressed fears of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Similarly, they are attuned to balancing the need for a far more urgent, vigorous official crackdown against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to demonstrate against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a moment for a national listening, it is now, when our belief in humanity is so deeply depleted. This is especially so for those of us lucky never to have experienced the hatred and dread of faith-based targeting on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep churning out at us the banal hot takes of those with inflammatory, polarizing stances but no sense at all of that profound fragility.

This is a period when I regret not having a greater faith. I mourn, because having faith in people – in mankind’s capacity for compassion – has failed us so acutely. A different source, something higher, is required.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme instances of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. Emergency personnel – police officers and medical staff, those who charged into the gunfire to aid others, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the imperative of community, faith-based and ethnic unity was admirably championed by religious figures. It was a call of love and tolerance – of unifying rather than splitting apart in a time of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the symbolism of Hanukah (illumination amid darkness), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for hope.

Togetherness, hope and love was the essence of faith.

And yet elements of the political landscape responded so nauseatingly swiftly with fragmentation, blame and accusation.

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

Observe the dangerous message of disunity from longstanding agitators of societal discord, capitalizing on the massacre before the site was even cold. Then read the words of political figures while the investigation was still active.

Government has a formidable task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and frightened and seeking the hope and, importantly, explanations to so many uncertainties.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was assessed as likely, did such a significant public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a woefully insufficient security presence? Like how could the alleged killers have six guns in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and repeatedly warned of the threat of targeted attacks?

How rapidly we were treated to that tired line (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not guns that cause death. Of course, each point are valid. It’s possible to at the same time pursue new ways to prevent violent bigotry and keep guns away from its potential actors.

In this city of profound splendor, of clear blue heavens above sea and sand, the water and the beaches – our shared community spaces – may not seem entirely familiar again to the many who’ve noted that famous Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s horrific violence.

We yearn 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 require each other more than ever.

The comfort of community – 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 public life and the community will be hard to find this long, enervating summer.