The Danger When Crisis Becomes Theatre: Why Australians Are Demanding Better Leadership

How political opportunism, bad faith accusations, and rushed legislation replaced genuine leadership after the Bondi tragedy

By Sue Barrett

Like many Australians, I have been watching the political response to the Bondi tragedy with growing concern. Not the grief, which is genuine and profound, but what has unfolded since: rushed legislation, political point-scoring, and a media environment that seems disconnected from what everyday Australians are asking for.

What we’re witnessing raises fundamental questions about political leadership in this country. When crisis strikes, do our leaders rise to genuine stewardship, or do they default to political theatre? The answer matters deeply, because how we respond to tragedy reveals who we are as a nation.

The Timeline Tells a Story

The facts are straightforward and documented. Within eight days of the December 14 2025 attack, the Coalition released detailed 73-point terms of reference for a royal commission. After three weeks of sustained pressure, Prime Minister Anthony Albanese announced such a commission. Days later, the government released a 144-page omnibus bill combining hate speech laws, firearms regulations, migration powers, and customs amendments, with a 48-hour window for public consultation before Parliament sits.

This timeline is not in dispute. What it means, however, has sparked intense debate across the political spectrum.

When Grief Became Weaponised

To understand what we’re witnessing now, we must look at what happened in those first hours and days, when grief was fresh, and the nation was in shock.

Within hours of the attack, before families had even identified all the bodies, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu issued a statement blaming Prime Minister Albanese. He directly linked the massacre to protests against Israel’s actions in Gaza, suggesting the Australian government’s failure to suppress these protests had created the conditions for terrorism.

This set the template for what followed. Former Prime Minister Scott Morrison wrote in Murdoch’s Wall Street Journal that Labor’s “indulgence of Islamic and left-wing extremists” had “set the stage for the massacre at Bondi Beach.” Sydney radio shock jocks claimed Albanese had “helped cause the tragedy,” arguing that his government’s “focus on Gaza” meant it was “distracting from domestic hate.”

These weren’t policy critiques. They were accusations that the Prime Minister and Foreign Minister, Penny Wong, bore responsibility for mass murder. They were made without evidence, amplified through coordinated media campaigns, and designed to create a political environment where measured, careful policymaking became politically impossible.

The accusations were demonstrably false. The perpetrators’ radicalisation had no connection to peaceful protests against genocide. Yet the accusations served their purpose: they poisoned the well of national grief, making it a site of political warfare rather than unity.

This is what bad faith looks like in practice:

Making accusations you know to be unsupported by evidence, positioning yourself to criticise any response as inadequate or excessive, and creating a no-win scenario for those trying to govern responsibly. It’s not legitimate criticism of government policy. It’s the deliberate hijacking of collective grief for partisan advantage.

As political commentator David Tyler later characterised it, this was “hostage-taking and cynical opportunism, made possible by right-wing proxy groups like Advance, where the ransom is Labor’s credibility and the cost is the weaponisation of grief.“

And it worked. The sustained campaign created an environment where any resistance to demands for immediate, sweeping action could be framed as moral failure or worse, complicity with terrorism.

The Media Amplification

The pressure on government didn’t emerge organically. News Corp Australia publications ran coordinated editorials across The Australian, The Daily Telegraph, The Herald Sun, and The Adelaide Advertiser. They published full-page advertisements featuring open letters signed by business leaders, including News Corp Australasia executive chairman Michael Miller himself.

Nine Entertainment, owner of The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age, stated publicly that their publications “led calls for a royal commission” and backed fundraising campaigns for related advertising. Nine chairman Peter Tonagh added his name to open letters.

When cartoonist Cathy Wilcox published a piece depicting this coordination, the backlash was immediate. Nine apologised within days, a striking response given they had spent weeks advocating for the very position the cartoon critiqued.

New Zealand journalist David Robie, observing the Australian media coverage, noted that “for almost four weeks none of the countless pages of articles canvassed other perspectives; to gain some balance it was necessary to turn to credible independent sources” like Michael West Media, Anthony Klan of the Klaxon, Crikey, Pearls and Irritations, Amy Remeikis, and commentators like Ronni Salt.

Pearls and Irritations provided particularly thoughtful coverage. Notably, lawyers Greg Barns and Kym Davey initially called for a royal commission but later wrote “Rethinking the call for a royal commission after Bondi,” explaining they had changed their minds because “the necessary inquiry… has became secondary to the naked politicisation of the terrorist attack by those in the pro-Israel lobby.”

What Australians Are Saying

Dr Monique Ryan, the independent Member for Kooyong, captured what many Australians are feeling: “National tragedies demand unity, not division. Australia’s political leaders came together after Port Arthur, after 9/11, and after the Bali bombing.” She noted that the Coalition “spent the past four weeks demanding action” but now appears “set to oppose” the legislation, “claiming they’ve been developed too quickly.“

Ryan’s observation cuts to the heart of what troubles so many: “The legislation we’re debating has been developed hastily: that’s what the Opposition demanded. I’d be prepared to stay in Canberra for as long as needed for us all to work together to make it better.“

This isn’t just one voice

Twenty-seven religious leaders, representing multiple faith communities, have signed an open letter expressing “serious concern regarding the Combatting Antisemitism Hate and Extremism Bill 2026, both because of its (perhaps unintended) adverse implications for religious freedom and freedom of expression and the inadequate consultation and review.“

Their letter, signed by the Anglican Bishop of South Sydney, the President of the Australian National Imams Council, and the Catholic Archbishop of Sydney among others, states bluntly: “Faith communities, legal experts, and civil society organisations have not been afforded a reasonable amount of time to properly study the legislation, assess its legal and constitutional implications, or prepare constructive and well-considered submissions.“

Professor Kathy Eagar noted the awkwardness: “27 religious leaders sign a letter opposing key aspects of the proposed law. It seems that the only one missing is Judaism. The government has done an extraordinary job drafting legislation that almost no one supports.“

The Omnibus Problem

Former independent MP Tony Windsor identified a core issue: “Omnibus legislation is always about politics. Used by both major parties to wedge the Opposition of the day on two or more different issues being covered by one vote. The Hate speech and the Firearm legislation should be split into two Bills.“

Aaron Smith articulated what many are asking: “Why you’d ever combine gun reform and hate-speech legislation in a single bill is genuinely beyond me.“

Ronni Salt provided a frank assessment of the tactic: “It’s tactical. The LNP have flagged they’ll block a whole raft of provisions in any new firearms amendments. So Labor have glued it on, knowing the LNP will oppose some sections of it and, voila – Labor can shame them for their opposition to ‘protecting Australian jewish people’!“

She added: “Almost everything about this catastrophic legislation is about politics.“

This is what Australians are seeing: legislation designed not for optimal policy outcomes, but for political positioning. As one commentator put it: “I hate them all for their posturing, chest beating and point scoring. This sick theatre continues to expose their vacuity and lack of moral fibre.“

The Serious Legal Concerns

Beyond the political tactics, substantial concerns have emerged about the bill’s content. Legal expert Michael Bradley identified what he calls a “glaring problem”: the bill defines “hate crimes” for proscribing hate groups but specifically excludes “advocating genocide” from this definition.

Bradley’s analysis is worth quoting directly: “All of the acts in the definition of a ‘hate crime’ are already crimes within the Criminal Code. The point of the new hate crime concept is that it is the thing that defines a ‘hate group’.“ He asks why advocacy of genocide, arguably the ultimate hate crime, would be excluded from criteria for labelling a hate group.

The explanatory memorandum states genocide is “distinct from” hate crimes and “is best criminalised through existing frameworks.” Bradley calls this logic “nonsensical.”

A legal submission by Sean Rapley concludes that the bill “represents a significant expansion of Commonwealth criminal law into the regulation of speech, belief, and lawful association” and warns it risks “collapsing the distinction between violent extremism and contentious political activism, particularly in relation to advocacy critical of Israel or Zionism.”

The submission notes that comparable democracies anchor organisational banning to “defined terrorism thresholds” with “structured de-proscription mechanisms, judicial oversight, and review pathways.” By contrast, the proposed Australian regime would permit executive banning based on “advocacy, praise, or association” without requiring findings of terrorism, violence, or clear evidence, and while “expressly denying procedural fairness obligations at the point of listing.”

The faith leaders’ letter emphasises that “legislation of this breadth and sensitivity requires careful deliberation and meaningful consultation. A rushed legislative process of this nature undermines confidence, increases the likelihood of unintended consequences, and risks creating law that may prove unworkable or unjust in practice.“

What This Reveals About Australian Political Leadership

The pattern that emerges is one of systematic bad faith:

Demanding urgent action, then condemning it as too rushed. Calling for a royal commission, then criticising its terms. Blaming the government for the attack, then opposing the legislative response. Excluding the Prime Minister from memorial services, then accusing him of dividing the nation.

This isn’t policy disagreement. It’s a deliberate strategy where the government is set up to fail regardless of what it does. As Monique Ryan observed, this represents a fundamental breakdown in how our political system should function during national crises.

Political analyst Kos Samaras offered this observation: “As the political class has become more tribal, and as the major parties increasingly treat politics as zero-sum warfare, voters are responding in kind. Bloc behaviour becomes the norm when politics is framed as ‘us versus them’.“

This captures what many Australians sense: our political class appears increasingly disconnected from the kind of leadership the moment demands. When grief is weaponised within hours, when false accusations become acceptable political tools, when vested interests coordinate campaigns that drown out genuine consultation, we’re witnessing something corrosive to democratic governance itself.

The Danger When Crisis Becomes Theatre

Carolyn Wood noted the public response: “If the bulk of the population take notice only of the headlines they would think – what’s wrong with the MSM and LNP – they got what they were shouting for & now they don’t like it. There’s been so much genuine sorrow & faux outrage that I think people are tuning out.“

This is the real danger: when crisis becomes theatre, people stop paying attention to the substance because the process has lost credibility.

When Australians can’t distinguish genuine concern from political positioning, when bad faith becomes the expected mode of operation, democracy itself is undermined.

The Adelaide Parallel

Similar dynamics played out at Adelaide Writers’ Week, where the festival board, under pressure, cancelled Dr Randa Abdel-Fattah’s invitation. South Australian Premier Peter Malinauskas supported this decision, drawing a hypothetical equivalence between criticism of Zionism and terrorism.

As Amy Remeikis observed, this reflects a broader pattern where “disagreement, dissent and criticism will continue to be reframed into very narrow definitions of ‘hate speech’, ‘agitators’ and ‘social cohesion’. That’s not going to make anyone safer. It will however, make it easier to target and crush those they don’t agree with.“

What Real Leadership Looks Like

Real leadership in crisis is extraordinarily difficult. It requires holding multiple truths simultaneously: the genuine fear in the Jewish community, the legitimate concerns about rushed legislation, the need for both security and liberty, and the importance of getting complex policy right even under pressure.

What would genuine stewardship have looked like?

Unity over division.

As Monique Ryan noted, after Port Arthur, 9/11, and Bali, political leaders stood together. They presented a united front while allowing proper time for policy development. As commentator Mike Carlton reflected: “Imagine if Ley and the LNP had gone to the government after Bondi and said, ‘Look, this is bigger than both of us. Let’s work together.’ It might have been a great moment of national unity.“

Process over theatre.

The NSW state inquest and Dennis Richardson’s rapid review were already underway. Real leadership would have waited for these to provide initial findings before launching competing processes or rushing legislation through Parliament.

Consultation over tactics.

When 27 faith leaders from across the religious spectrum say they haven’t had adequate time to assess legislation affecting their communities, that’s not partisan politics. That’s a process failure. As Tony Windsor observed, separating the firearms reforms from hate speech provisions would allow proper scrutiny of each complex issue.

Honesty over positioning.

Real leaders acknowledge trade-offs. They explain why specific measures are necessary while accepting that some proposals might go too far. They invite democratic debate rather than creating wedges designed to make opposition politically impossible.

Effectiveness over optics.

Royal commissions can be valuable, however they’re expensive, slow, and their recommendations are often implemented partially if at all. The Royal Commission into Robodebt found the scheme “cruel and unlawful” and linked it to suicides, yet no politician or senior bureaucrat has faced consequences. The Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse cost $340 million and delivered 409 recommendations in 2017, many still unimplemented.

Since 1980, Australia has had 26 royal commissions. An analysis in Pearls and Irritations noted they “all fit into one or both categories of telling us what we already know or not doing much to stop future abuse.” Even the Robodebt royal commission, despite “blistering evidence,” left no one punished.

Perhaps most tellingly, even those who initially supported a Bondi royal commission changed their minds. Greg Barns and Kym Davey wrote that the inquiry became “secondary to the naked politicisation of the terrorist attack by those in the pro-Israel lobby who see the aftermath of Bondi as being an opportunity to curtail Palestinian voices.”

The Psychology of Crisis

Social psychologist Professor Albert Bandura identified mechanisms through which societies rationalise questionable actions during crises. Several appear observable in the current environment:

Framing rapid political manoeuvring as necessary for “national security.” Describing coordinated campaigns as “giving voice to the community.” Portraying criticism of legislative process as being “soft on terrorism.” Presenting a concerted push from political, media, and business figures as spontaneous “public demand.” Excluding genocide advocacy from hate crime definitions while rushing through provisions that could capture political activism.

These patterns don’t require attributing motive to anyone. They’re observable in the public record, and they concern Australians across the political spectrum.

What We Must Demand

The Bondi tragedy called for our best:

Empathy, evidence-based policy, unity across difference, and steadfast commitment to democratic values and processes.

What we’re seeing instead troubles many Australians not because they oppose action on antisemitism or terrorism, but because the process itself has become part of the problem.

When legislation is rushed through with 48-hour consultation windows, when omnibus bills force all-or-nothing votes on disparate issues, when political leaders demand urgent action, then criticise it as too rushed, we’re watching theatre, not leadership.

Tom captured this sentiment: “I hate them all for their posturing, chest beating and point scoring. This sick theatre continues to expose their vacuity and lack of moral fibre. The duopoly is a political cesspit and the media circus loves it to be so.”

This matters because Australians deserve better.

We deserve leaders who can hold grief and complexity simultaneously, who condemn terrorism without criminalising dissent, who protect the Jewish community without silencing other voices, and who strengthen security without permanently eroding liberty.

We deserve a process that matches the gravity of the moment. That means laws scrutinised as thoroughly as they are far-reaching. It means genuine consultation with affected communities. It means working across party lines when national security genuinely requires it, rather than using tragedy for political advantage.

As Monique Ryan concluded: “But it would be a very sad reflection on this country if our parliament can’t bring itself to agree to start working together to better address extremism, racial and religious hatred, and vilification, in the face of the trauma of the Bondi massacre. I hope that that’s not who we have become.“

The questions before us are simple:

Have we become a nation where political theatre trumps genuine leadership?

Where vested interests and point-scoring matter more than getting policy right?

Where the political class is so disconnected from everyday Australians that they can’t see what’s plainly visible to everyone else?

Or can we demand and achieve something better?

Every solution begins with a conversation.

But first, we need leaders willing to have honest ones, leaders connected to the real world rather than trapped in political warfare, leaders who understand that their role is stewardship, not theatre.

The victims of Bondi, their families and communities deserve more than to become symbols in political positioning. The Australian public deserves more than rights traded away in rushed parliamentary sittings. Our democracy deserves leaders who rise to the moment rather than exploit it.

We know what real leadership looks like. We’ve seen it before in this country’s finest hours. The question is whether we’ll settle for anything less, or whether we’ll demand the standard of leadership this moment requires.

The choice, ultimately, is ours.

You know what to do.

Onward we press

Further Reading

For deeper analysis beyond mainstream coverage:

Pearls and Irritations – “Rethinking the call for a royal commission after Bondi” (Greg Barns and Kym Davey), “We’ve had 26 royal commissions. Their failures should caution us against a repeat”

Michael West Media

The Klaxon (Anthony Klan)

Crikey – Independent coverage of political accountability.

 

This article was originally published on Sue Barrett

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