They can do a better job of making it a bit safer online
In the chambers of Australia's antisemitism royal commission, a troubling recursion has surfaced: those who come forward to bear witness to hatred find themselves met with fresh waves of it. The inquiry has become a mirror reflecting not only the antisemitism it was convened to examine, but the way online spaces transform testimony into targeting, and proximity into culpability. What is being weighed here is not merely the volume of abuse, but the cost society imposes on those willing to speak.
- Witnesses testifying before Australia's antisemitism royal commission are being hunted online — found even when they use pseudonyms, and subjected to explicit calls for violence and Holocaust glorification.
- Labor MP Josh Burns has received over ten thousand abusive messages, but the sharpest wound is watching his partner Georgie Purcell absorb a fused assault of antisemitic and sexualized misogynistic abuse simply for being with him.
- Research shows anti-Jewish hate on X spiked sharply after October 7, 2023 and has never returned to its prior baseline — a pattern mirrored in anti-Muslim hate following domestic incidents like the Bondi attack.
- Scientists from Deakin University's Tackling Hate Lab argue that cost-effective tracking and intervention tools could disrupt hate's spread without censorship — but those systems do not yet exist at scale.
- Burns drew a pointed contrast: Instagram can recommend a high chair for his infant daughter, yet platforms claim they cannot better protect public figures from coordinated abuse — a gap the commission is now pressing to close.
Inside Australia's royal commission on antisemitism, a disturbing pattern has taken shape: the act of testifying about hatred invites more of it. Witnesses who step forward find themselves targeted online not only for what they say, but for who they are and who they love.
Labor MP Josh Burns, who is Jewish, has absorbed thousands of abusive messages — branded a genocidal Zionist, accused of staging an attack on his own office. But Burns told the commission that the hardest part is not his own suffering. It is watching his partner, Victorian Animal Justice MP Georgie Purcell, become a target by association. The abuse directed at her fuses antisemitism with explicit misogyny: one message arrived after the birth of their daughter, combining slurs against her for being partnered with a Jewish man. She is punished not for her beliefs, but for her proximity to his.
Tahli Blicblau of the Dor Foundation documented 275 posts targeting commission witnesses — a fraction, she stressed, of hundreds more — including death threats, Hitler admiration, and conspiracy theories casting witnesses as crisis actors. Some gave evidence under pseudonyms and were still found.
Research presented by Dr. Matteo Vergani of Deakin University's Tackling Hate Lab showed that anti-Jewish hate on X spiked after October 7, 2023 and has remained elevated. The same surge-and-sustain pattern applies to anti-Muslim hate following domestic incidents. Offline events, once reported, circulate on social media where facts dissolve into conspiracy. Vergani's lab argues that targeted, cost-effective interventions could interrupt this cycle — but the infrastructure does not yet exist at scale.
Burns closed with a challenge to the platforms themselves: if Instagram can infer that his six-month-old daughter needs a high chair, it can do more to protect people who speak publicly about hate. The commission's work now turns on whether that challenge will translate into policy.
Inside a royal commission examining antisemitism and social cohesion in Australia, a pattern has emerged that cuts across the usual boundaries of hate. Witnesses who step forward to testify about their experiences with antisemitism find themselves targeted with fresh waves of abuse—not just for what they've said, but for who they are and whom they're connected to.
Josh Burns, a Labor MP and a Jewish man, has become a focal point for this compounded harassment. His office has absorbed more than a thousand phone calls and ten thousand abusive social media messages. The language directed at him is vicious: he's been called a "genocidal Zionist," accused of orchestrating an attack on his own workplace as an inside job. But Burns told the commission that the most difficult part of this assault isn't what he endures himself. It's watching his partner, Georgie Purcell—a Victorian Animal Justice MP who is not Jewish—absorb abuse that weaponizes both antisemitism and misogyny in a single blow.
Purcell has documented the comments sent her way. One reads: "You root a Zionist. You can't be trusted." After she gave birth to their daughter, another arrived: "Shut the fuck up. You got knocked up by a Zionist, you Nazi cunt." In his submission to the inquiry, Burns noted that the language targeting Purcell reveals a deliberate fusion of hatreds. The antisemitic abuse directed at her is "compounded by misogynistic, often violence and sexualised commentary—directed at her because she is a woman." She becomes a target not for her own beliefs or actions, but for her proximity to him.
This pattern extends far beyond one couple. Tahli Blicblau, chief executive of the Dor Foundation, which works to combat antisemitism and hate, told the commission that witnesses who come forward to share their experiences with antisemitism are then "subjected to more of it." She documented 275 examples of posts targeting witnesses—a fraction, she emphasized, of "many, many hundreds more." These posts included explicit calls for violence and murder, dehumanizing language, admiration for Hitler, Holocaust glorification, and conspiracy theories painting witnesses as crisis actors. Some witnesses gave evidence under pseudonyms to protect themselves, yet were still found and attacked online.
Research presented to the commission reveals how quickly and thoroughly online spaces amplify hate. Before October 7, 2023, hateful content targeting Jews on X (formerly Twitter) sat at what researchers called a "very low baseline rate." After the Hamas attack on Israel, that changed. The level of anti-Jewish hate spiked and has remained elevated ever since. The same pattern holds for anti-Muslim hate, which surges after major incidents and stays high. When the Bondi terror attack occurred, there was a small spike in anti-Jewish hate online—but a "huge spike" in anti-Muslim hate, according to Dr. Matteo Vergani from Deakin University's Tackling Hate Lab.
Vergani's research also traced how offline incidents become online conspiracies. Real events reported by media outlets get circulated on social media, where they mutate. Facts become theories. Context disappears. The lab's work with large datasets suggests this isn't inevitable—that there are cost-effective ways to track, intervene in, and prevent hate without resorting to censorship or heavy-handed suppression. But those systems don't yet exist at scale.
Burns pointed to a gap between what technology companies claim they can do and what they actually do. Instagram, he noted, knows enough about his behavior to recommend a high chair for his six-month-old daughter. "They can do a better job," he told the commission, "of making it a bit safer online." The Online Safety Act exists, social media platforms have policies, but the infrastructure to protect people—especially those who step into the public eye to speak about hate—remains inadequate. The question now is whether the commission's findings will push platforms and policymakers to close that gap.
Citas Notables
The language in the examples reveals how antisemitic abuse directed at Georgie is compounded by misogynistic, often violence and sexualised commentary—directed at her because she is a woman.— Josh Burns, in his submission to the royal commission
Witnesses who came forward to share their experiences with antisemitism were then subjected to more of it, targeted and abused online at volume across social media platforms.— Tahli Blicblau, chief executive of the Dor Foundation
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does Purcell's abuse seem to matter more to Burns than his own?
Because he's watching someone he loves get attacked for something she didn't do—for simply being with him. His own abuse is about his identity and his politics. Hers is about her body, her sexuality, her role as a woman attached to a Jewish man. It's a different kind of wound.
Is this just online noise, or does it have real consequences?
The commission is hearing from people who've been harassed so severely they give evidence under fake names. Witnesses are being targeted at volume across multiple platforms. That's not noise—that's a coordinated environment of fear.
The research shows hate spikes after major events. Is that inevitable?
Not according to Vergani's team. They're saying there are ways to intervene without censorship. But those systems would require platforms to actually care about safety as much as they care about engagement.
What does Burns want to happen?
He wants the platforms to use the tools they already have. Instagram can track his shopping habits. It could track and flag coordinated abuse just as easily. The technology isn't the problem. The will is.
Does the commission have power to make that happen?
That's the open question. The commission can document the problem, name it, make recommendations. But enforcement depends on whether politicians and platforms decide to act.