In the wake of the Bondi terrorist attack that left 16 people dead and more than 40 injured, there have been renewed calls to introduce tougher antisemitism laws in Australia. Emotions are understandably raw. But moments of crisis are precisely when governments are most tempted to legislate hastily—and when citizens must be most vigilant about the principles such laws undermine.

Earlier this year, The Australian reported on a sweeping new federal plan to combat antisemitism, announced by Prime Minister Anthony Albanese, Home Affairs Minister Tony Burke, and special envoy Jillian Segal. Under the proposal, border officials would be trained to identify and deport “antisemites.” Universities and arts organisations could lose government funding if they fail to combat antisemitic bigotry, and a national definition of antisemitism would be urged across institutions, from classrooms to cultural bodies.

At first glance, the policy appears decisive. But beneath the surface lies a serious and unresolved problem: who gets to decide what qualifies as “antisemitism”?

The term is increasingly broad, politicised, and contested. There is little consensus about its boundaries, yet enormous power would rest on its definition. Some prominent activist groups have already classified objects and phrases as diverse as the New Testament, Norse Runes, the Celtic cross, Thor’s Hammer and phrases such as “It’s Okay to Be White” and “Christ is King” as inherently “antisemitic.”

However, if the real concern is incitement, harassment, or violence—acts that are already illegal under Australian law—why not enforce existing laws equally and deport any foreign national who commits crimes against Australians, regardless of the victim’s race or religion? Why introduce a race-specific framework at all, when equal protection under the law is meant to be the foundation of a free society?

Laws that explicitly privilege one group above others do not strengthen justice; they undermine it. They institutionalise double standards rather than fairness. Like a favoured child receiving special treatment, such laws risk breeding resentment instead of respect. Over time, citizens inevitably ask uncomfortable questions: what kind of influence allows one group to receive legal protections denied to others?

Ironically, these supposed “protections” often backfire. Rather than reducing social tension, they foster suspicion, division, and backlash. Communities become more fragmented, not more cohesive. When the law ceases to apply evenly, it loses moral authority, and when it loses moral authority, compliance erodes.

Australia does not need race-based laws to protect its people. It needs a broadly pro-Australian legal framework—one that defends all citizens equally, regardless of background. Anyone who threatens Australians, undermines the nation’s civic order, or seeks to subvert its laws should face consequences not because of who their victims are, but because their actions violate the standards required to live here.

Everything the government claims to be addressing through antisemitism-specific legislation could already be dealt with under a neutral, universal legal approach. Violence, harassment, intimidation, and incitement are crimes no matter who commits them and no matter who suffers from them. There is no need to elevate one group’s protection above another’s to enforce justice.

A nation’s laws should apply equally to all people, regardless of ethnic background. When the law explicitly favours one group—granting protections not afforded to others on the basis of ethnicity—it does not heal division but instead breeds scepticism and resentment. Such distinctions undermine the very social cohesion they are meant to protect.

Rather than constructing an ever-expanding patchwork of ethnic-specific laws—anti-Chinese laws, antisemitism laws, Aboriginal-specific laws, and so on—a nation should legislate in defence of its own common interests and shared civic order. Laws should protect the nation as a whole, not only some ethnic categories.

In doing so, the law can extend equally to people of all backgrounds who seek to belong, contribute, and live peacefully within the nation, while excluding and restraining those of any ethnicity who seek to undermine it or pose a threat to its people.

Equality before the law is not an abstract ideal. It is the precondition for a stable, high-trust society. Once abandoned, no amount of selective protection can restore it.