This response was neither measured nor responsible. Instead, it followed a familiar and deeply troubling pattern: an isolated criminal act was rapidly weaponised to smear a global protest movement that has consistently mobilised against mass killing, genocide, and state violence — particularly Israel’s ongoing assault on Gaza.
Across programmes and headlines, references were made to “globalising the intifada”, with pro-Palestine demonstrations implicitly, and at times explicitly, placed in the dock. This framing deliberately obscured a basic truth. Our demonstrations have always been against killing, mass slaughter, and genocide. They are protests against the destruction of civilian life, not against Jewish people or any other community. To suggest otherwise is to engage in distortion, not analysis.
What makes this media offensive especially hollow is the identity of its loudest participants. Many of the commentators now expressing alarm about violence are the very same figures who, over recent months, justified Israel’s bombardment of Gaza, rationalised the killing of tens of thousands of civilians, or maintained a studied silence as hospitals, schools, and refugee camps were reduced to rubble. Their sudden concern for civilian safety rings hollow. They are the last people with any credibility when it comes to condemning violence.
The Bondi Beach attack itself appears to have been a criminal act carried out by a couple of individuals and should be unequivocally condemned, without hesitation or qualification. Violence against civilians is always wrong, regardless of motive or target. However, condemning that act does not require — nor does it justify — the collective punishment of an entire protest movement or the delegitimisation of opposition to genocide.
Perhaps the most revealing aspect of the coverage, however, lies not in what was said, but in what was omitted.
During the Bondi Beach attack, a Syrian Arab Muslim man, Ahmad Al-Ahmad, intervened directly to stop the attacker. By placing himself in immediate danger, he prevented further harm and quite possibly a far wider massacre. His actions were courageous, instinctive, and unequivocally humane. He acted to protect innocent lives, without regard for identity, politics, or personal risk.
This should have been central to the story. Instead, it was marginalised.
Where Al-Ahmad was mentioned at all, key details were conspicuously absent: his Syrian origin, his Arab identity, and his Muslim faith. These facts were quietly erased from much of the reporting. The contrast is stark and instructive. Had the attacker been Arab or Muslim, those identifiers would almost certainly have dominated headlines, endlessly recycled as supposed evidence of a broader cultural or political threat.
This selective naming — and selective silence — is not accidental. It reflects a media culture that readily racialises and politicises violence when it serves a particular narrative, but avoids doing so when it disrupts deeply ingrained stereotypes. A Muslim man saving Jewish lives does not sit comfortably within the dominant frame; his identity therefore becomes inconvenient.
The erasure of Al-Ahmad’s background also serves another purpose. It helps sustain the false notion that Muslim or pro-Palestine communities are inherently predisposed to violence, rather than being among those most consistently mobilising to protect civilian life and oppose mass killing. His actions expose the bankruptcy of claims that pro-Palestine activism is driven by hatred or extremism.
The attempt to link the Bondi Beach attack to pro-Palestine demonstrations is not only dishonest, but dangerous. It collapses the vital distinction between an isolated act by an individual and a systematic, state-led campaign of violence. Israel’s assault on Gaza is not an abstract debate or a rhetorical excess; it is a sustained military operation carried out with advanced weaponry, full political backing, and near-total impunity. Entire neighbourhoods have been erased. Thousands of children have been killed. This violence is ongoing, daily, and deliberate.
Conflating peaceful protests against such atrocities with a criminal act thousands of miles away shifts attention away from those crimes and chills legitimate dissent. It creates an atmosphere in which solidarity is treated as suspicion and protest as provocation. This is not an accident of poor journalism; it is a political choice.
If the media were genuinely committed to opposing violence, it would tell the Bondi Beach story honestly and in full. It would condemn the attack clearly, without exploiting it. It would highlight the courage of Ahmad Al-Ahmad and ask why his actions disrupt prevailing narratives. And it would interrogate power, rather than punching down at protesters demanding an end to genocide.
Until that happens, those who stand for justice must continue to respond robustly and confidently. We must refuse to allow smears to replace facts, or selective outrage to silence a movement rooted in the most basic moral demand of all: that human life — Palestinian life included — should matter.
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