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.