Thanks to reader KB for the tip - he writes:

Hi Michael,

 

The perpetrators of antisemitism are cynically capitalising on recent antisemitic attacks, which they caused, by claiming shared victimhood with Jews in order to clamp down on "Islamophobia"...

 

https://www.abc.net.au/religion/derya-iner-islamophobia-antisemitism-australia-shared-challenge/104841086

While there is broad agreement between us that both antisemitism and Islamophobia are on the rise, Andre Oboler’s recent article highlights a trend that I find rather troubling — namely, the tendency to debate which form of prejudice represents the bigger problem. This competitive or adversarial approach risks exacerbating the issue and diverting attention from where it belongs: addressing the shared underlying causes of these forms of hate.

In the interests of addressing the rising hate in Australia — rather than attempting to resolve the political tensions overseas and its worldwide implications — I propose moving beyond this divisive narrative and shifting the focus away from an “us versus them” or “Muslims versus Jews” binary. Instead, we should target the opportunistic perpetrators who exploit these divisions to propagate hate. As intellectuals and professionals working in the field of hate crimes, Andre Oboler and I must avoid falling into the “us versus them” mindset and focus on delivering practical, unified solutions.

In what follows, I want to respond to Andre Oboler by reframing some of his points in a manner inspired by Kees Dorst’s Designing for the Common Good — a valuable book which argues that traditional approaches to problem-solving fail when addressing “wicked problems” because they are complex, dynamic and interconnected. When clear-cut solutions are impossible, Dorst suggests a number of interventions to handle these challenges. It begins with “problem framing”, which I attempt as a way of tackling the intertwined rise of antisemitism and Islamophobia in Australia.

Reframing difficult social problems

Dorst introduces the concept of “problem-framing” by addressing the problem of drunken violence in a Sydney entertainment district. Traditional measures — like increased security and surveillance — had only escalated arrests and made the area feel uninviting. But by studying the behaviour of partiers, the designers of an alternative solution identified frustration and boredom as key triggers for violence. As Dorst writes:

Key themes that emerged were that the people concerned are overwhelmingly young people (non-criminals) wanting to have a good time, and that they were becoming increasingly bored and frustrated as the night progressed.

They reframed the problem by shifting it from a law-and-order perspective to one intent on maintaining a fun, safe environment.

Drawing on the metaphor of a music festival, they implemented solutions like better transportation access, “chill-out spaces” for relaxation, and visible peer guides to assist patrons — strategies that alleviated tension without relying on more security. This innovative approach exemplifies the power of reframing a problem to handle complex social challenges.

Similarly, reframing antisemitism and Islamophobia in a way that refuses to isolate either Islamophobia or antisemitism — or to undermine one by highlighting the prevalence of the other — shifts the focus to the environment that enables hate. Such a reframing introduces new actors and enablers:

• ideologically motivated groups, like far-right extremists and some neo-Nazis, who historically hate one or both communities;
• aggressive opportunists with criminal tendencies to exploit divisive climates;
• newcomers, who adopt hate under the guise of divisive rhetoric, the choice of which depending on their sources of influence;
• some interest groups — industries, organisations, parties and influential individuals — who benefit from a divided and divisive world.

By framing the situation as posing a shared source of insecurity for both Muslims and Jews, we can develop effective new interventions. The prevailing “us versusthem” discourse, competing vulnerabilities, scapegoating and denial of mutual suffering have only succeeded in deepening the current divides. The challenge is to neutralise the breeding ground of hate and prevent the harm to both communities.

The significance of attacks on places of worship

Attacks on places of worship provide a compelling case study. Recent incidents, along with findings from a pilot study on mosque attacks led by the Centre for Islamic Studies and Civilisation at Charles Sturt University, highlight shared vulnerabilities. 

Synagogue and mosque attacks represent more than targeted hate crimes — they are assaults on the sanctity of communal spaces cherished across faiths and cultures. Dorst’s approach encourages us to reframe these incidents not merely as crimes against specific communities but as violations of shared cultural and religious hubs and violations of open public spaces, which are equally available and accessible to anyone.

Muslim communities, having faced numerous mosque attacks, understand this trauma firsthand. A 2020 study found that 58.2 per cent of Australian mosques experienced violence between 2014 and 2019, with 30 per cent reporting graffiti and 12 per cent experiencing arson in 2019 alone.

The timing of these attacks on places of worship was traumatic for both communities. The arson attack on the Adass Israel Synagogue occurred at a time when antisemitism was already on the rise in Australia. Likewise, the Muslim community faced a series of mosque attacks in the aftermath of the Christchurch terrorist attacks. Two days after the Christchurch attacks, a man drove into Baitul Masroor mosque in the south of Brisbane while yelling offensive language against Muslims — an act whose severity was undermined when the police characterised the attacker’s behaviour in terms of “stupidity”. This was followed by vandalism and attacks at mosques in Holland Park and Rockhampton, and others besides.

The Muslim community was not only traumatised but frustrated due to the classification of some of these attacks simply as “property damage”, despite the fact that they were committed in the same year as the Christchurch terrorist attacks.

Acknowledging these shared fears and frustrations fosters recognition of common ground, and counteracts the tendency toward competing vulnerabilities. Places of worship — mosques, synagogues, churches — should be treated as public assets symbolising multicultural unity. Targeting any of them undermines the social fabric of the nation.

Leaders play a pivotal role in fostering unity and setting a constructive tone. Standardising definitions of hate crimes, ensuring equitable responses and promoting interfaith solidarity are critical to bridging divides. Clear criteria for distinguishing between property damage, hate crimes and terrorism are likewise urgently needed to ensure fairness and accountability.

Empathetic, inclusive leadership can inspire collective action while addressing root causes of hate. Australian initiatives like the “I Will Ride With You” campaignafter the Lindt Café terrorist attack exemplify the success of this approach. Such responses must be reinforced consistently by political, community and religious leaders.

Protecting each other’s places of worship

For minority communities, places of worship operate as communal hubs, enabling members to pass their ethno-religious identity to future generations through the hosting of activities, ceremonies and educational programs. Apart from this communal dimension, places of worship also symbolise individual devotion to the Creator — therefore, any attack on a place of worship, no matter the religion, is an attack on the sanctity of all places of worship. The fact that the Qur’an emphasises the sanctity of all places of worship, explicitly mentioning “monasteries, synagogues and mosques”, makes their protection a divine responsibility for Muslims.

Following the arson attack on Adass Israel Synagogue, peak Muslim organisations promptly condemned the act and called for decisive action. Similarly, a unified and swift condemnation of the attack on Sheikh Wesam Charkawi by political and religious leaders across faiths could have bridged divides rather than reinforcing them. Equal sensitivity and timely responses to hate incidents, regardless of the targeted group, are critical to fostering trust and dismantling cycles of division.

What causes waves of hate

The placement of the word “Allah” alongside “Hitler” and a swastika on the wall of a synagogue exemplifies how hate groups exploit societal tensions in order to deepen divisions. These acts aim to alienate communities, reinforcing an “us versusthem” narrative. However, as suggested by Kees Dorst, it is important to shift attention away from binary frameworks. In the Australian context, the focus should be on opportunistic perpetrators across all groups who exploit such divisions.

It is well known that far-right groups harbour hatred toward both Muslims and Jews. Indeed, for many of these groups, as Julie Nathan has argued, while they display particular antipathy toward Muslims they tend to hold Jews responsible for Muslim immigration in the first place. As Mario Peucker and Debra Smith note, the fluidity, adaptability and opportunism of Australian far-right groups reveals that they are “anything but an ideologically monolithic bloc, where different groups and their supporters agree on what their societal utopia looks”.

In addition to ideologically driven groups, opportunistic individuals are emboldened by hate-filled environments. “Consensus theory”, as explained by Kevin Dunn, highlights the way that people with racist tendencies act when they perceive their views align with majority opinions. When leaders, media, or events reinforce such worldviews, these individuals feel empowered to act.

Hate does not emerge or dissipate overnight — rather, it fluctuates, intensifying during trigger events and subsiding afterward. While measuring the scale and intensity of these waves of hate is valuable, the priority should be to understand how trigger events escalate hate and when to intervene to prevent its growth.

Why definitions matter

At one point in his article, Andre Oboler’s uses the term “radicalised individuals” to describe perpetrators of antisemitism from Muslim and pro-Palestinian communities. But in today’s heightened socio-political climate, we must be particularly cautious when employing such charged terminology. It is essential that we use neutral and precise definitions that classify behaviours based on actions, not stereotypes.

This approach fosters trust and ensures that terms like “radicalism” and “terrorism” are applied consistently and universally. For example, if radicalism is defined as adherence to ideologies that normalise violence against civilians, this definition must be applied uniformly, regardless of the perpetrator’s background, religion or political ideology.

Oboler also makes a point of defending the Working Definition of Antisemitism of the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) by citing its widespread institutional adoption rather than its intrinsic merit. However, relying on top-down enforcement undermines independent reasoning, particularly when the definition seems to conflate legitimate criticism of Israel with antisemitism at a time when Israel is justifiably being criticised for failing to meet international human rights standards by the International Court of Justice. At this juncture, refining and clarifying the IHRA definition, rather than pressuring more institutions to adopt it, could prove far more effective for those who are serious about understanding and counteracting antisemitism today.

Data integrity — the importance of context and methodology

I believe that Oboler’s comparison of instances of antisemitism and Islamophobia might be misleading without a rigorous contextual analysis. For while he argues that antisemitic incidents surpass Islamophobic incidents both before and after 7 October 2023 — online and offline — his analysis fails to account for critical differences in data collection. 

After all, the reporting capacities and experiences of Jewish and Muslim communities differ significantly. Antisemitism data benefits from institutional monitoring and report collection from a highly educated, well-networked and well-resourced minority. Conversely, Islamophobia data relies on community driven registers that face several challenges:

• limited awareness about reporting mechanisms and individual rights;
• fear of systemic bias, inaction or disappointment with authorities;
• socio-economic and linguistic barriers, particularly for first-generation immigrants, elders and new arrivals;
• reluctance to report incidents due to cultural norms or perceived loyalty to community cohesion;
• variability in the capacity and outreach of reporting organisations within the community.

Moreover, data registration protocols differ across data collecting institutions from Jewish and Muslim communities. For instance, the Islamophobia Registerenforces strict verification criteria and relies on third party reporting even for online cases (rather than retrieving the online anti-Muslim discourse). This approach aims at understanding what motivates users to report despite the multiple barriers involved.

Without addressing its context, data collection method and the persistent disparities, comparing raw numbers of antisemitic and Islamophobic incidents misleads both the public and policymakers, potentially reinforcing the divisions such comparisons seek to bridge.

Extra cation is needed while many research projects, findings and numbers are floating around. A research informed advocacy would inform the advocacy direction and content, while preserving its independence and integrity. By contrast, lobbying driven research would try to ambitiously suit its findings to the pre-set lobbying agenda and thereby overshadow the research independence and integrity. Because competitive comparisons carry this risk and fuels divisions, it is preferable and ultimately more productive to focus on the breeding ground of hate and continue to foster a shared understanding of shared vulnerabilities.

A path forward

I remember attending an event once with my colleague Andre Oboler. He hesitated to eat some of the finger food on offer until he saw me eating — then he took one, saying, “If Derya eats, it means I can eat too.” This moment, rooted our shared dietary concerns over Kosher and Halal food, symbolised mutual trust. Andre’s trust in my adherence to my value system mirrored his own experience with his religious values.

I believe that my hopes for my community’s safety and wellbeing align with Andre’s vision for his community and motivate both of us to strive for the safety and wellbeing of the broader Australian society, where every individual from any walk of life feels equally safe, owned and belonged. Starting from this trust, we can aim for collaborative design thinking to determine right interventions to handle challenges we face today.

Addressing antisemitism and Islamophobia requires commitment to the common good, acknowledgement of shared vulnerabilities and systemic integrity. Using Kees Dorst’s “framing the problem” approach, we can recognise that while clear-cut solutions may be elusive, effective interventions are possible. By focusing on the right issues and fostering genuine collaboration through transparent, unbiased and universally accepted terms and definitions, progress can be made.

Whether incidents are labelled as “property damage” or “terrorist attacks”, whether data capture is partial or comprehensive, or whether methodologies differ, the underlying reality is the same — our communities face shared fears and anxieties that erode our sense of wellbeing.

By moving beyond binary narratives and reframing the issues away from “us versusthem” or “Muslims versus Jews”, we can focus on the opportunistic perpetrators who exploit these divisions. As professionals in hate crime research, we must resist falling into a different form of the same divisive trap. The harm such frameworks cause is clear, and addressing it demands unity, empathy and collaborative action.