Every time I went to class, I would strip myself of my Jewish identity
In Melbourne this week, a royal commission gave formal witness to what many Jewish Australians have long carried privately: that the campus, a place meant to expand the mind and widen the circle of belonging, has for some become a site of historical terror reanimated in gesture, word, and silence. Academics and students testified to Nazi salutes in classrooms, friendships dissolved overnight, and institutions that met urgency with delay. The hearings mark a rare moment when a society pauses to ask not only what happened, but what its silence permitted.
- A UNSW tutor whose grandparents survived the Holocaust watched four classmates raise their arms in Nazi salutes toward him during a business lecture — a gesture he described, with full historical weight, as feeling like a death threat.
- An ANU student lost nearly all of her non-Jewish friends within weeks of October 2023, was told to her face she was no longer welcome because she was a Zionist, and watched campus antisemitism escalate around a pro-Palestine encampment with little institutional check.
- A Melbourne postgraduate student stopped wearing her Star of David on campus — a symbol whose Hebrew name means shield — because she no longer felt she could be visibly Jewish in that space without cost.
- Universities stand accused of a pattern of delayed or absent responses to reported antisemitic incidents, with counsel to the commission noting that Jewish staff and students were routinely assumed to hold a single political position regardless of the diversity within Jewish communities.
- Witnesses who testified in earlier hearings were subsequently targeted with antisemitic attacks serious enough to prompt Australian Federal Police referrals and criminal charges, casting a shadow over the commission's own proceedings.
- From next year, Australian universities will be legally required to adopt enforceable definitions of antisemitism, Islamophobia, and racism — a structural response to the institutional failures this week's testimony has placed on the public record.
A royal commission examining antisemitism at Australian universities heard testimony in Melbourne this week from Jewish students and academics who described experiences that ranged from overt historical symbolism to quiet, corrosive erasure.
The most visceral account came from a UNSW tutor and PhD candidate, identified as ACJ to protect his privacy. During a 2024 business class, four international students performed Nazi salutes directed at him. For ACJ, whose grandparents survived the Holocaust and whose extended family was largely murdered by the Nazis, the gesture carried the full weight of that history. He reported it as a crime, contacted police, and the students were eventually suspended after an investigation by NSW police.
At the Australian National University, a student named Liat described a quieter but no less painful rupture. Proud of her Zionist identity and Israeli heritage, she found that the October 2023 attacks in Israel transformed her social world almost overnight. Most of her non-Jewish friends stopped speaking to her. At a university event, one told her directly: we are no longer friends — you are a Zionist. She watched antisemitism escalate around a pro-Palestine encampment, with students calling her a baby killer, while the university's responses to reported incidents were slow or absent.
A Melbourne postgraduate student, using the pseudonym ACL, described the psychological cost of visibility. After October 2023, she stopped wearing her Magen David on campus — for the first time in her life, she felt she had to strip away her Jewish identity before walking into a room. A lecturer's offhand remark that a particular scholar was a good Jew because they weren't a Zionist captured, for her, the kind of statement that used debate about Israel as cover for something older and uglier.
Counsel assisting the commission, Zelie Heger SC, identified a recurring pattern: Jewish staff and students being assumed to hold a fixed political position on the Middle East, despite the genuine diversity of views within Jewish communities. The commission, led by Virginia Bell AC SC, also heard that witnesses from earlier hearings had been subjected to antisemitic attacks serious enough to result in Australian Federal Police referrals and charges.
Looking ahead, the Australian government will require universities to adopt legally enforceable definitions of antisemitism, Islamophobia, and racism toward Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people from next year — a structural response to the institutional failures this week's hearings have made impossible to ignore.
A royal commission examining antisemitism on Australian campuses heard testimony this week in Melbourne that painted a picture of Jewish students and academics facing Nazi salutes in classrooms, losing friendships overnight, and encountering what they described as institutional indifference to their safety and dignity.
The most stark account came from a tutor and PhD candidate at UNSW, identified only as ACJ to protect his privacy. In 2024, during a business class for international students, four of his classmates performed Nazi salutes directed at him. The weight of that moment, he explained to the commission, carried the full historical horror of his family's experience. His grandparents had survived the Holocaust. The Nazis had murdered a substantial portion of his extended family. When someone raised their arm in that salute toward him, he said, it felt like a death threat. He wasn't entirely sure the students knew he was Jewish, but their behaviour seemed deliberately aimed. He reported the incident to his supervisors, made clear it was a crime, and contacted police. The students were initially given a formal warning, then suspended after NSW police investigated.
At the Australian National University, a student who identified herself as Liat described a different kind of rupture. She had moved to Canberra in 2022 to study, proud of her Zionist identity and her Israeli heritage—both parents were born there. The October 2023 terrorist attack in Israel became a watershed. Within weeks, she lost most of her non-Jewish friends. At a university event, someone told her plainly: we're not friends anymore, you're a Zionist. The majority of people she had considered close simply stopped speaking to her. She watched antisemitism escalate on campus, particularly around the pro-Palestine encampment. Students called her a baby killer and genocide supporter. She acknowledged that criticism of Israel itself need not be antisemitic, but she hadn't witnessed examples that separated legitimate political critique from the deployment of old antisemitic tropes. What troubled her most was what she called a pattern of deflection in the university's response. When she and others reported antisemitic incidents—including Nazi gestures—the institution either did nothing or responded so slowly that nothing was corrected.
A postgraduate student at a Melbourne university, using the pseudonym ACL, described the psychological toll of visibility. She had never felt the need to hide her Jewish identity until after October 2023. Then, for the first time in her life, she stopped wearing her Magen David—the symbol that in Hebrew means shield or protector—on campus. She felt she couldn't be Jewish in that space. Every time she walked into class, she said, she stripped herself of her identity. A lecturer once told her cohort that a particular scholar was a good Jew because they weren't a Zionist. She had no objection to debate about Israel, but she objected to sweeping statements about the Middle East being used as cover for something else.
Zelie Heger SC, counsel assisting the royal commission, identified what she called a recurring theme in the testimony: Jewish staff and students being assumed to hold a particular political position on the Middle East, despite the fact that Jewish communities hold diverse views. Many Jews, she noted, oppose the actions of the Israeli government. No one disputes the importance of being able to debate the conflict. But the evidence, she suggested, would show instances where protest had crossed from legitimate political speech into something else.
The commission, led by royal commissioner Virginia Bell AC SC, also heard that Jewish witnesses who gave evidence in earlier hearings were subsequently subjected to ugly antisemitic attacks—a development serious enough to trigger an Australian Federal Police referral and charges. The hearings included testimony from Yasmine Johnson, a co-convener of Students for Palestine; Hugh de Kretser, president of the Australian Human Rights Commission; and Josh Keller of the Australian Academic Alliance Against Antisemitism.
Looking forward, the Australian government will require universities to adopt legally enforceable definitions of antisemitism, Islamophobia, and racism toward Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people starting next year. The measure is designed to create a standard that universities must meet in combating discrimination on their campuses—a response, in part, to the failures documented in this week's testimony.
Citações Notáveis
When someone does a Nazi salute at me it feels like they want to kill me— UNSW tutor and PhD candidate (ACJ)
I just felt like I couldn't be Jewish on campus. I just felt like I had to hide my identity— Melbourne university postgraduate student (ACL)
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does the timing matter so much? Why did things change so sharply after October 2023?
Because before that date, these students and academics had built lives on campus. They had friendships, they felt they belonged. October 2023 became a moment where suddenly their identity was inseparable from a geopolitical conflict. People who had been their friends made them choose—either agree with a particular position or lose the relationship.
But the UNSW incident happened in 2024, a year later. Was that also tied to the same moment?
It seems to be part of the same wave of escalation. The Nazi salutes weren't necessarily a response to anything the academic said or did. They were directed at him because of who he was perceived to be. That's the distinction—it's not debate, it's targeting.
The university responses sound passive. What would an active response have looked like?
Immediate investigation, clear consequences, communication back to the person who reported it. Instead, these students describe either silence or delays so long that the moment had passed. When you report something and hear nothing, you learn that the institution doesn't consider it serious.
Is there a difference between criticizing Israel and antisemitism, or are they being conflated?
They're different, and the witnesses understood that. But they were seeing cases where antisemitic language and tropes were being deployed under the cover of political critique. The problem isn't the debate itself—it's when the debate becomes a vehicle for something older and uglier.
What does it mean that these students had to hide their identity?
It means they couldn't be fully themselves on campus. For ACL, not wearing her Magen David wasn't a small thing—it was a daily act of erasure. She was stripping away part of who she was to feel safe. That's what institutional failure looks like from the inside.