The resignation in Australia of Dennis Richardson from the Bondi Beach Royal Commission should ring alarm bells across the country. When the most experienced national security figure in the room decides his presence adds little value, Australians are entitled to ask a simple question: are the wheels already coming off this Royal Commission?

Richardson is not just another bureaucrat quietly stepping aside. He is a former head of ASIO, a former secretary of the Departments of Defence and Foreign Affairs, Australia’s ambassador to the United States, and widely regarded as one of the country’s most experienced national security figures. If anyone understands intelligence failures and counter-terrorism systems, it is him.

His departure was not wrapped in diplomatic ambiguity. Richardson stated plainly that he felt like the “fifth wheel”, that he was not adding much value, and that his contribution had become increasingly limited over time.

That in itself should raise eyebrows. Richardson should never have been the fifth wheel. With his decades of experience, he should have been the front wheel helping steer the direction of the inquiry.

Royal Commissions are supposed to represent the gold standard of independent investigation in Australia. They exist to uncover uncomfortable truths, cut through political noise and restore public confidence when institutions fail.

Richardson’s resignation risks doing the opposite.

As Liberal Senator James Paterson bluntly put it, the development casts “a massive shadow” over the credibility of the Royal Commission and ultimately its findings and recommendations. That concern is not simply partisan politics. It reflects a broader fear that the inquiry may not be functioning as robustly or independently as Australians were promised.

Richardson has also made clear that he believes delaying findings about any intelligence failures connected to the Bondi terrorist attack until the end of the year is unacceptable given the current security environment.

At a time when national security agencies warn of heightened threats and communities remain on edge, Australians deserve answers sooner rather than later. Waiting months to confront possible intelligence shortcomings risks undermining the very purpose of the inquiry – to identify what went wrong and ensure it cannot happen again.

The uncomfortable reality is that Australia must ensure no such attack occurs between now and the release of the final report.

The backdrop to all of this is the surge of antisemitism that has unsettled communities across the country.

Richardson himself expressed disbelief at some of the scenes that have played out on university campuses.

“I scratch my head over that,” he said. “I don’t understand how you can have children in university campuses chanting ‘death to Israel’ or whatever nonsense, rubbish and vile they were chanting.”

His remarks reflect a sentiment shared by many Australians who have watched with growing concern as protests and rhetoric have drifted beyond political expression into something darker.

History has shown repeatedly where unchecked hatred can lead. Yet institutions, universities and political leaders have often seemed reluctant to confront it directly.

The lesson of history is stark. The Holocaust did not begin with concentration camps. It began with rhetoric, boycotts, graffiti, confiscation of property and the gradual isolation of Jews from society. Hatred was normalised step by step until the unimaginable became possible.

Many within Australia’s Jewish community see echoes of those early warning signs today. The circumstances are not identical, but the pattern feels familiar: the rhetoric, the chants, the intimidation and the willingness of too many to dismiss it as simply political activism.

Sermons by figures such as Wissam Haddad have drawn widespread criticism after comments widely interpreted as hostile toward Jews. In one sermon he referred to Jews as “treacherous” and warned followers about befriending them, language critics say echoes dangerous historical stereotypes.

In another sermon circulated widely online, Haddad quoted a controversial religious passage and suggested that the end times would come when Muslims fight Jews, telling listeners they should “find a Yehudi and kill him”. The remarks sparked outrage and were cited by critics as an example of rhetoric that deepens fear within Australia’s Jewish community.

Words matter. Language shapes attitudes, and attitudes shape behaviour. When rhetoric portrays an entire people as morally suspect or frames violence against them in ideological or religious terms, it risks creating a climate in which intimidation and hatred can flourish.

Many Jewish Australians believe that climate has worsened in the last two years.

There have been reports of harassment in public, online doxxing campaigns, boycotts of Jewish businesses and vandalism of community institutions. Synagogues and Jewish properties have been defaced with swastikas and graffiti including phrases such as “Jew die”. Some have even been targeted with arson attacks.

These are not abstract concerns debated on social media. They are real incidents affecting real people in Australian suburbs and communities.

Critics argue that the absence of strong consequences has emboldened those responsible. When intimidation is tolerated or dismissed as activism, it sends a signal that such behaviour carries little cost.

The debate intensified again recently after former Australian of the Year Grace Tame led chants calling to “globalise the intifada”.

The slogan is widely interpreted by many Jewish groups as a call for violent uprising against Israelis and Jews. It drew fierce criticism, yet there appeared to be no legal consequences under Australia’s hate speech laws.

Calling for a violent uprising is not free speech.

The historical meaning of the term “intifada” is not abstract. Previous uprisings included waves of terrorist attacks targeting civilians: suicide bombers boarding buses, entering cafés, shopping centres and nightclubs before detonating explosives.

One of the deadliest attacks occurred on 27 March 2002 in what became known as the Passover massacre. A Hamas terrorist walked into the dining hall of the Park Hotel in Netanya, north of Tel-Aviv, during a Passover dinner and detonated a bomb, killing 30 people and injuring around 140 others. Many of those killed were elderly, including Holocaust survivors.

Nothing about that history is something to celebrate or romanticise.

Yet rhetoric invoking such violence has increasingly entered public discourse. Critics argue that the perceived silence from the Albanese government sends a troubling message. When chants invoking violent uprisings go unchecked, it reinforces the perception that antisemitic intimidation is being treated differently from other forms of hate speech. Hopefully the Royal Commission will find the Albanese government’s silence contributed to the current climate. Afterall, that is why he was booed by the crowd at the Bondi memorial.

There is, of course, a profound difference between political expression and the intimidation or vilification of an entire community.

Speech that calls for violence, glorifies terror or dehumanises a people ceases to be part of democratic debate. It becomes a threat to it.

This is precisely why the Royal Commission matters.

Its purpose is not simply to produce a report. It is meant to restore trust, to show that Australia’s institutions can confront extremism, antisemitism and social division honestly and without political filtering.

Richardson’s departure raises doubts about whether that process is unfolding as intended. If someone with his depth of experience felt sidelined or unable to contribute meaningfully, Australians are justified in wondering whether the inquiry’s structure or direction is limiting the expertise it needs most.

Royal Commissions rely heavily on credibility. Once that credibility is questioned, even their strongest findings can struggle to command public confidence.

Australia has faced moments of social tension before. History shows that ignoring warning signs only allows problems to deepen.

The question now is whether this Royal Commission will confront those warnings honestly, or whether Richardson’s resignation is the first sign that something has already gone wrong.

Because if the most qualified voices are walking away, Australians deserve to know why.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)