The recent testimonies before the Royal Commission on Antisemitism and Social Cohesion paint a disturbing picture of the experiences of Jewish-Australian university students and staff. The commission's focus on these lived experiences, particularly in the aftermath of the Hamas attacks on Israel in October 2023, reveals a pervasive and unsettling atmosphere on Australian campuses.
One witness, using the pseudonym 'Liat', described a shift from what she called a "low-level hum of antisemitism" to overt hostility and threats. The initial jokes about big noses and Jewish financial prowess evolved into more menacing gestures and slogans. Liat's experience of being called a "baby killer" and a "genocide supporter" by members of an encampment protesting Israel's actions in Gaza is particularly distressing. The fact that she felt the need to hide her Jewish identity, even in simple daily interactions, speaks volumes about the climate of fear and intimidation she and her peers have faced.
What makes this particularly fascinating is the way these incidents are often framed as isolated events or harmless jokes. However, as Liat points out, the saturation of certain symbols and slogans creates a breeding ground for antisemitism. The word "intifada," for instance, carries a heavy historical weight and has been interpreted by the Jewish community as a call for violence. When such rhetoric becomes normalized on campus, it's no wonder that Jewish students feel unsafe and threatened.
The commission also heard from a PhD candidate at the University of New South Wales (UNSW) who experienced a similarly shocking incident. Four students in his business class performed Nazi salutes, an act that he described as "visceral" given his family's history of surviving the Holocaust and Jewish pogroms in Poland. The university's response, he claimed, was lackluster at best, offering only a verbal warning instead of treating it as the serious criminal incident it was. This incident, and the subsequent impact on his employment, highlights the broader issue of how universities handle reports of antisemitism and the potential consequences for those who speak out.
In my opinion, these testimonies shed light on a deeper problem: the normalization of antisemitism on university campuses. While universities pride themselves on being places of diversity and open dialogue, these accounts suggest that for Jewish students and staff, the reality can be quite different. The commission's work is crucial in bringing these experiences to light and prompting a much-needed conversation about how to create safer, more inclusive environments for all students.
As we reflect on these testimonies, it's important to consider the broader implications. Antisemitism is not just a historical relic; it is a present-day threat that can have a profound impact on individuals' sense of safety and belonging. Universities, as institutions of higher learning, have a responsibility to foster an environment where all students can thrive without fear of harassment or intimidation. The stories shared before the Royal Commission serve as a stark reminder of the work that still needs to be done to achieve this goal.
