The Australia I grew up in is unraveling as antisemitism shatters a safe haven - opinion

BySARI NOSSBAUMJULY 25, 2026 21:54Australia used to be known as “the lucky country.” For many Jewish families - including my own - it truly was.Thousands of Holocaust survivors, like my grandfather, fled to the farthest place on Earth from the atrocities they experienced in Europe, and played a pivotal role in building the Jewish communities. Australia became home to one of the largest populations of Holocaust survivors outside of Israel, welcoming them with opportunities, security, and the chance to rebuild their shattered lives.And rebuild they did. With the support of devoted community leaders and Chabad emissaries - including my great-grandfather (on my grandmother’s side), Reb Zalman Serebryanski - vibrant Jewish communities took root and flourished.Jews became respected contributors to Australian society, serving as community leaders, professionals, and, with time, philanthropists.While the Jews thrived, they simultaneously developed into proud Australians who carried a deep sense of gratitude to the country that provided them with this safe haven and a new beginning.The writer's niece and nephew enjoy fair floss (cotton candy) at a Lag Ba'Omer parade and fair in Melbourne. (credit: Courtesy/ Sari Nossbaum)Inherited gratitude and pride in countryGrowing up in Australia, I inherited that gratitude almost unconsciously, alongside a pride in my home country and everything it stood for: a strong sense of inclusivity, a laid-back pace of life, an affinity for the beach, and an obsession with sports.Sundays at the Melbourne Cricket Ground to watch the footy (Australian rules football) were woven into the fabric of my childhood as tightly as my Jewish identity. And I was far from alone. At the local train station, streams of supporters in jerseys and scarves packed the carriages, punctuated by many dots of kippot and even some tzitzit strings swaying as the train moved toward the stadium.I still remember sitting in a jam-packed stadium (95,000 fans!) on Hol Hamoed Passover, which happened to coincide with Anzac Day that year - the national memorial day for Gallipoli, when Australians fought in World War I - with the smell of treif meat pies and beer permeating the air.I was holding tightly to my matzah and cheese sandwich, with crumbs flying into the air every time I jumped to my feet with the roaring crowd as my team scored a goal.And that was the Australia I remember so fondly: a place where I could freely intertwine my strong Jewish heritage with the local culture.Some of my most vibrant childhood memories are linked to Jewish holidays. Whether it was the Lag Ba’omer parade where local streets were closed off so we could march proudly, singing Hebrew songs, or skipping in the streets during Sukkot as we went “sukkah hopping” with our youth group, our voices echoing through the streets in carefree Hebrew chants and laughter. Judaism was never something hidden or hushed.The standout event was Hanukkah in the park, organized by Chabad. In Australia, Hanukkah falls in the middle of the summer, and candle lighting isn’t till very late - after 9 p.m. - a thrilling novelty for children allowed to stay awake long past bedtime. I can still taste the fairy floss (that’s Australian for cotton candy) on my sticky fingers and see the dazzling fireworks that lit up the sky after candle lighting at nightfall.'Why would you leave Australia?'Aside from Osem soup croutons and many other imported foods tasting stale by the time they reached the Australian shores (something I only realized many years later), Jewish life was thriving, vibrant, and secure.Sixteen years ago, I moved to Israel. At the time, people often reacted with surprise.“Why would you leave Australia?”To many, Australia represented the ideal Diaspora life: safe, prosperous, relaxed, tolerant, and an unsurpassed quality of life. Israel, on the other hand, was viewed as the “complicated” place. The place people worried about.But something has shifted.Nobody asks me that question anymore.Since Oct. 7, things have unraveled in Australia - to put it mildly.It began with a large demonstration outside the Sydney Opera House on October 9, with all types of Australians calling for the demise of Jews and Israel. Then started the graffiti on Jewish school fences; synagogues were set on fire, cars were put up in flames, and it all came to a shocking crescendo at the barbaric shootings of 15 innocent souls at the iconic Bondi Beach during Chabad’s Hanukkah celebration.These are the larger incidents that have dominated headlines, but what the Royal Commission into Antisemitism has more recently exposed is the quieter, persistent undercurrent bubbling in everyday interactions. The hostility, exclusion, and shocking slurs that rarely make the news, but are shaping the emotional reality on the ground - maybe even more profoundly.During the Royal Commission, Jews have shared disturbing reports of Nazi salutes in classrooms, workplace bullying, and children being taunted with offensive slurs.What’s most ironic and deeply distressing is that the children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren of Holocaust survivors are now encountering this rhetoric in the very country their ancestors once turned to in search of safety, refuge, and belonging.This is not the Australia I grew up in. This is not the sunburned country where we embraced the melting pot of backgrounds, customs, and cultures that filled our coastlines and parks.And for that, I grieve. I grieve from afar as I watch the Australia I once knew so intimately unravel - a place where Jewish life felt open and secure, and where belonging was never something we questioned.I hope the Royal Commission leads to meaningful change. I hope the broader Australian public understands that what is at stake is not only the safety of Jews, but the character of the country itself. And I hope Jewish children growing up there today will one day speak about Australia with the same fondness that I feel.Qantas, Australia’s national airline, is known for its signature anthem, “I Still Call Australia Home,” which is played on every flight - a gentle reminder that no matter how far Australians travel, there is a longing for home.But a few years ago, sitting on a Qantas flight and listening to those familiar lyrics, I realized something had shifted within me, too. I no longer instinctively called Australia home, nor did I feel that same pull toward it.Australia will always hold a deep and special place in my heart, and it also profoundly shaped my views and approach to life. But for me, home is now Israel. The writer was born and raised in Melbourne, studied in New York City, and now resides in Jerusalem with her husband and four young children. A marketing consultant by profession and writer at heart, she often finds her best ideas while swimming in the pool or cycling in the Jerusalem Hills.Follow us on Google