Laws Alone Can't Prevent Hate

Last night, Australia’s parliament passed a new package of laws aimed at combating antisemitism, hate and extremism. The government says it is about protecting communities from intimidation and violence. On its face, that’s a goal any decent person should support.

I certainly do.

My public life is built on nonviolent, peaceful direct action in defence of climate, Country, and human rights - which is to say, community. I have no patience for racism, nor for antisemitism, nor the politics of dehumanisation. Jewish Australians should not have to look over their shoulder because global events have become a licence for local hate.

And yet, when Labor and Liberal gang up to ram complex legislation through at speed, I always get suspicious. Not because I think everyone involved is acting in bad faith. It’s because I have watched, for decades, how “safety” can become the slogan under which governments quietly expand discretion, tighten the screws on protest, and normalise powers that are then used unevenly. Bipartisanship doesn't automatically make a law wise. Sometimes it just makes it harder to challenge.

Here's what caught my attention politically. The bill passed the House overwhelmingly. In the Senate, it passed with Liberal support and the opposition of the Greens. Ten years ago, Greens opposition to a bill like this would have been an automatic red flag for me. These days, I weigh their objections on the merits rather than by reflex. I admire and respect David Pocock and Fatima Payman, who both opposed the bill. That tells me something. But I also trust and respect the Teals in the lower house, who appear to have supported it while pushing amendments.

That voting pattern matters to me, because it speaks to the central tension in this moment. It’s possible to be absolutely opposed to hate and political violence, and still be wary of rushed laws that hand more levers to the executive, particularly in areas and offences that can be broad in application. That wariness isn’t a luxury. It’s democratic vigilance.

I’ve heard a lot of noise online claiming that this new package could criminalise criticism of Israel, particularly criticism of its actions in Gaza. Some people are saying that even calling what's happening a genocide could breach the laws. That has become a flashpoint, and I understand why. We're living through a time of polarisation, where many people feel that every moral argument is treated as tribal warfare, and every sentence will be weaponised.

But serious civic conversation requires discipline. I’ve criticised the Israeli state publicly and have even been moved on while protesting peacefully outside its Embassy in Canberra. I’m confident that my actions wouldn’t contravene these new laws. My view, as someone who writes, speaks and protests publicly, is that criticism of a state’s conduct is not the same thing as hatred of a people. It never has been. I condemn the actions of the Israeli Government, the policies of occupation and siege, the conduct of the IDF, and the brutal realities visited upon civilians. And I am still crystal clear: Jewish people are not a stand-in for the state of Israel, and they don’t carry collective blame. Indeed, many of them are speaking up too. This clarity isn’t rhetorical fluff. It is the boundary line between political discussion and racial and ethnic vilification.

If we can’t name what we see, we won’t be able to stop it. If we can’t speak about state violence, then we can’t defend human rights. If we can’t protest injustice because we fear the law, then the law has already succeeded in shrinking civic space, regardless of whether anyone is prosecuted.

And that's the deeper issue here. Even where a law is not designed to criminalise legitimate debate, complexity and discretion can still chill speech. People self-censor when they don't trust the system to be applied evenly. They self-censor when ministers can list organisations. They self-censor when migration consequences hang over people who are already vulnerable. They self-censor when the boundaries aren’t intuitive, and when public discourse is already heated.

None of this is to deny the reality of antisemitism. Quite the opposite. Antisemitism is real. It is ugly. It rises quickly when societies are stressed. It destroys lives. A country that can't protect Jewish citizens or other minority groups can’t claim to be a serious democracy.

So where do I land on this bill? I land in the uncomfortable but necessary middle: I support the goal of protecting communities from hate and violence. I also believe we should scrutinise any rushed expansion of state powers, especially given the two major parties ended up being in lockstep. I hear the Greens’ objections, but they don't carry the same weight for me as the concerns raised by David Pocock and Fatimah Payman, who I see as careful, human-rights-minded legislators who are accountable to the people who elected them. At the same time, I feel reassured by Teal support in the lower house, and by their efforts to improve the bill through amendments.

That tells me that if we want these laws to do good rather than harm, we must insist on practical safeguards. Transparent guidance. Clear thresholds. Strong defences for genuine public interest discussion. Real oversight of any listing regime. A time-bound, post-legislative review that publishes evidence about how the powers have been used, and against whom.

And in the meantime? The answer isn't silence. The answer is precision. Speak about governments and policies, not ethnicities. Reject collective blame. Refuse dehumanising language, wherever it comes from. Moderate your platforms. Keep your arguments evidence-led. Defend the dignity and safety of Jewish and Palestinian Aussies alike, because that is what human rights requires.

Labor and the Liberals may have pushed the bill through, but the rest of us shouldn’t panic. Rather, we should stay awake. Laws alone won’t prevent hate. But people and their actions will - by choosing dignity over dehumanisation, and courage over silence.