IMAGINE SAYING THIS ABOUT ANY OTHER AUSTRALIAN MINORITY.


Imagine describing a tiny Australian minority as having hidden influence.

Accusing them of political control.

Suggesting they intimidate politicians.

Questioning their loyalty to Australia.

Claiming their small but powerful network is manipulating Australia against its own national interests.

We would recognise the danger immediately.

So why is it acceptable when the minority being spoken about is Australian Jews?

When Flanagan talks about an “Israel Lobby” in these terms, this is no longer simply criticism of Israel.

It is rhetoric that echoes some of the oldest antisemitic tropes in history.
Jews secretly influencing governments.
Jews wielding disproportionate power.
Jews manipulating nations.
Jews whose loyalty supposedly lies somewhere else.
We’ve heard this story before.
The terminology changes.
The trope doesn’t.

Australian Jews represent less than 1% of our population.

Many Australian Jews also feel a deep connection to Israel and Zionism. For many, Israel is bound up with thousands of years of Jewish history, culture, religion, persecution and the aspiration for Jewish self-determination.

as Adam Slonim writes about the diatribe of Flanagan’s hate and antisemitism

“You are absolutely entitled to disagree with Zionism.
You are absolutely entitled to condemn the Israeli government.
But you don’t get to take Australians who support Israel, portray their advocacy as a sinister force corrupting our democracy, and then hide behind:
“I’m only criticising Israel.”

No.

You’re talking about Australians.

You’re suggesting that because they advocate for something central to their identity and beliefs, their political participation should be treated with suspicion.

And at some point we have to call that rhetoric what it is.

Antisemitism.

This matters even more because of the environment in which these words are being spoken.

When antisemitism is already a serious issue in Australia, words about Jewish hidden power, manipulation and divided loyalty don’t disappear when the speech ends.

They give prejudice oxygen.

They legitimise suspicion.

They provide a vocabulary for hate.

And when those words come from influential people standing on respected platforms, they carry even greater weight.

Criticise Israel.

Criticise Netanyahu.

Criticise Gaza policy.

Criticise Zionism.

Debate all of it—passionately.

But don’t demonise Australian Jews for exercising exactly the same democratic rights as every other Australian.

Supporting Israel doesn’t make you less Australian.

Being a Zionist doesn’t make you disloyal.

Being Jewish and advocating for something you believe in doesn’t make you part of a conspiracy.

Words matter.

History has taught Jews what happens when societies start accepting narratives about a small minority secretly manipulating the country from within.

We should have learned that lesson too.

Thank you Adam Slonim for having the courage to call this out.

Criticism of Israel is not antisemitism.

But portraying Australian Jews and their supporters as a sinister network of hidden influence, divided loyalty and political manipulation?

That crosses the line.


Many Paths. One Summit. Reflections from a Journey Through Indonesia

Over the past few days, our family has had the extraordinary privilege of travelling through one of the most beautiful parts of the world.

Together with our children and grandchildren, we spent three unforgettable days aboard a simple old wooden boat, sailing through the islands of Komodo National Park in Indonesia.

Our journey was to see the legendary Komodo dragons, but we discovered so much more.

With our wonderful guide, Rashin, and an incredible local crew, we navigated strong winds, watched breathtaking sunrises and sunsets paint the sky in brilliant shades of gold and crimson, and experienced the remarkable beauty of a landscape that seems almost untouched by time.

Yet perhaps the greatest privilege wasn’t seeing the dragons.

It was seeing people.

Watching how our brothers and sisters in this part of the world live—close to the sea, connected to one another, deeply respectful of nature, with comparatively few material possessions, yet seemingly rich in something many of us spend our lives searching for: contentment.

  • Life appeared simpler.
  • Children laughed freely.
  • Families worked together.
  • Communities depended upon one another.

Nature wasn’t something to visit—it was home.

It gave us time to slow down.

To think.

To reflect.

To ask ourselves some of life’s biggest questions.

  • Who are we?
  • Why are we here?
  • What is our purpose?
  • What legacy will we leave?

For most of us, the religion we follow wasn’t something we carefully chose after comparing every belief system in the world.

It was something we were born into.

Our parents believed.

Their parents believed.

Their communities believed.

Our traditions, customs and understanding of God were shaped long before we were old enough to question them.

Yet as we travelled through Indonesia, one thought kept returning.

While religions may differ in their stories, symbols, rituals and languages, they seem remarkably united in the values they encourage us to live by.

Whether we are Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Sikh, Bahá’í, or followers of another faith, each offers a path that encourages us to become better human beings.

Each calls us to deepen four essential relationships:

  • Our relationship with the Divine.
  • Our relationship with ourselves.
  • Our relationship with one another.
  • Our relationship with the natural world.

Perhaps these aren’t competing destinations.

Perhaps they are simply different paths up the same mountain.

The following reflections explore how some of the world’s great religions express these shared ideals—each through its own language, traditions and practices—but all pointing toward lives of greater purpose, compassion, stewardship and love.

As we looked across the Indonesian islands at sunrise, it was difficult not to feel humbled by something far greater than ourselves.

Perhaps that feeling—the awareness that we are part of something bigger—is where every genuine spiritual journey begins.