National interest was a bridge too far

The act of writing requires the ordering of facts and ideas into words, phrases, and eventually whole propositions. If all writing is, at core, an exercise in persuasion, the first target must be the author.

Because of its deliberative process, writing carries heavier responsibilities than extemporisation - talking off the cuff - even if the best columns and books read like they are just that.

"Writing is exactly what it says it is," wrote the late, great columnist, A.A. Gill, "it is black and white".

I confess, I thought of the "... read what I write" truism as I started this column because I knew it would be one of those. I hoped to find my way through the fractious mess laying strewn in the wake of the Bondi terrorist attack, the Seinfeldian saga of Adelaide Writers' Week (at which I was to attend), and the vast, unbridgeable space between current disagreements.

But how to make sense out of so much pain and so many diametrically opposed "values", especially as, "apparently", all are held in good faith?

The Bondi attack itself was chillingly clear - a heinous premeditated massacre of innocents driven by the most profound and irrational hatred of Jews.

Its response, however? Faced with such horror, genuine national leaders - politicians ordinarily at loggerheads over teased-up differences on business regulation, energy policy and taxes - would prioritise the national interest without prompting or hesitation. That is, they'd converge for the same patriotic reason they believe in the Parliament, the rule of law, and the Test eleven.

And from that starting point, they would have committed to act as one purposeful unit emphasising national unity and pledging to cooperate on whatever measures needed to prevent further atrocities.

That did not even start happening. Instead, Bondi was reflexively politicised. Unlike previous moments of national peril, Bondi's aftermath immediately descended into squalid advantage-taking.

The attraction of this path was obvious. Elements of the Jewish community raged in vindication. They had warned of rising hatred and believed governments (read Labor) had never appreciated the true depth of anti-Semitism.

An embattled opposition leader faced a choice: either sober leadership or recourse to the abundant emotional capital on offer. She chose the latter and her troops followed suit. As did most media.

Erstwhile free-speech hawks lashed the government for failing to criminalise anti-Semitism.

Supporters who had long branded criticism of the hard-right Netanyahu government as anti-Semitism, rushed forward.

The Albanese government's recognition of a future Palestinian state was further proof, tantamount to an attack on the Jews, and now, a causal factor in the massacre.

Divisions deepened. By focusing on civilian deaths in Gaza, "March for Humanity" protestors who had crossed Sydney Harbour Bridge in August, were blamed for fomenting an atmosphere that gave license to the shooters.

With the Opposition ascendant, blame soared and the government looked flat-footed. Mystifyingly, Anthony Albanese misread these forces, insisting there would be no royal commission. Critics complained that he lacked urgency, empathy, and a full appreciation for the problem. And that he had something to hide.

It was a crucial error.

His famed political judgment having abandoned him, Albanese would eventually relent, although too late.

Then, though, he would turn the political tables on Ley's shallow opportunism, delivering in writing, what she had so cheaply called for in daily outbursts - a crackdown on hate-speech, criminalising extremist political parties, restrictive new gun laws and more - all-in-all, an illiberal omnibus bill of tough measures to be voted on in an emergency sitting within days.

Cue, Coalition disarray. What's the hurry? Andrew Hastie asked, declaring he would support no changes before the RC reports in 12 months' time - or likely more. His leadership stocks no doubt rising. No way, said the Nats, eager to keep guns out of it.

For the fraying Coalition, loose partisanship was coming home to roost. You want urgency, strong measures, decisive action? Well, here it is. In black-and-white. Ready to become the law of the land.

Amid this chaotic theatre of the disingenuous, the words of the late musical genius, Leonard Cohen seemed most apt: "Things are gonna slide, slide in all directions."

So febrile is the politics that the significance of another bridge, the very foot-bridge in Bondi Park from which the murderous cowards fired their fatal shots, attracted its own bitterness.

The Premier is understood to want it demolished, presumably to stop it being used as a rallying point for bad actors.

Locals, for the most part, believe Waverley Council should retain it arguing that demolition would obliterate history and the sacred site of so many innocent lives taken, families shattered. How fitting that a country straining apart ends up fighting over bridges.

I wondered if writing this had helped me understand what I thought?

Perhaps. But answers remain depressingly elusive. Who, after all, can gainsay genuine grief and real fear?

One thing is clear though. In the absence of political bipartisanship, widening divisions were inevitable. That, shamefully, was the point.