Western democracies have legal systems that are meant to protect minorities from violence and hate. As antisemitism rises around the world, advocates worldwide are looking to use the power of law to hold to account those who threaten Jewish communities. Menachem Vorchheimer describes his battle for justice in Australia, and offers a perspective that is relevant to communities across the globe. 

As I write, I am awaiting a legal judgment in a case I initiated regarding a chant that reverberated through Melbourne’s Central Business District, the city’s main commercial and business area: “All Zionists are terrorists.”

The defendant in this case is Hash Tayeh, a key figure in Australia’s anti-Israel movement, who led the chant and encouraged others to repeat it.

I never imagined I’d one day find myself in court debating the meaning of words. But I was raised to understand that words matter – sometimes more than we’d like to admit.

The chant, the law, and the question before the court

The key question before the court is whether chanting “All Zionists are terrorists” incites hatred, contempt, or revulsion against Jews based on their race or religious beliefs.

Under the Racial and Religious Tolerance Act 2001 (Vic), it is unlawful to engage in conduct that incites hatred or similar extreme emotions toward someone based on their race or religious beliefs. The law encompasses both civil and criminal provisions.

I brought this case under civil law – not because the conduct is minor, but because Victoria Police chose not to pursue criminal charges under this law.

I want to highlight something simple yet powerful: this law exists. It has been upheld in the past. It has protected other communities. And if the government refuses to enforce it, citizens are entitled to demand an explanation.

The legal analysis here is straightforward. The chant has three components:

• “All” – every member, without exception.
• “Zionists” – in modern protest settings, often used as a stand-in for “Jews.”
• “Terrorists” – arguably the most morally condemned group in contemporary society.

When you label every member of a group as a terrorist, what emotion does that evoke? Respect? Or hatred and contempt?

Two pivotal cases in Victoria provide context. In Cottrell v Ross, a neo-Nazi was convicted for inciting hatred against Muslims. In Catch the Fire Ministries Inc v Islamic Council of Victoria Inc, the court ruled that sermons and publications vilified Muslims based on their religious beliefs.

In both cases, the defendants invoked “freedom of speech.” Yet, in both, the courts held that freedom of speech in Australia is not absolute. It doesn’t protect the right to incite hatred or vilify others based on their race or religion.

If the law protects Muslims from being collectively branded as dangerous or subhuman, it must also protect Jews. This isn’t a partisan issue; it’s a matter of equality before the law.

Burgertory, false claims, and the Caulfield riots

Hash Tayeh first gained significant attention after his business, Burgertory, was the target of an arson attack in November 2023. Police declared that the attack wasn’t racially or politically motivated, and two non-Jewish men were charged. Reports later indicated that the business had been struggling financially since the Covid pandemic.

Despite the police’s findings, claims spread that “Zionists” were behind the attack. This sparked riots in Caulfield, including an evacuation of a synagogue during Shabbat prayers, with rocks and bottles thrown and slogans shouted.

Under Section 21 of the Summary Offences Act 1966, disturbing religious worship is a criminal offense – but no one was charged for the evacuation of the Central Synagogue or the disruption of Shabbat prayers.

In May 2024, at the “Never Again Is Now” rally – a Jewish gathering against antisemitism – over 500 police officers were deployed to prevent counter-protesters from breaching police lines. Five people were arrested for assaulting or obstructing police. However, no one was charged for antisemitic attacks, despite the Jewish Community Council of Victoria recording the highest number of antisemitic incidents in its history that day, including eight physical assaults – more than double the number for all of 2022.

Through a Freedom of Information request, I obtained documents showing the government’s awareness of the situation. Correspondence with the Attorney-General and Premier’s office reflected alarm within the Jewish community. Yet, public messaging emphasized non-interference with protests.

The issue isn’t protest; protest is legitimate. The issue is incitement.

These failures by the government and police are also the subject of my civil actions.

The refusal to state the obvious

The most disturbing aspect of my legal proceedings hasn’t been the chants in the streets. It has been the refusal – by the government, police, and public figures – to state plainly what should be self-evident.

In one case, legal representatives resisted affirming that targeting Jewish institutions in Australia over a foreign conflict is wrong and has no place here. In another, a political party refused to unequivocally state that targeting Jews or Jewish institutions is unacceptable.

These are not complicated legal questions. They are basic civic principles: Hatred is never justified, incitement is unlawful, and freedom of speech does not protect racial or religious vilification.

Why, then, is it so difficult for some to say so?

If leaders cannot affirm these basic principles, public trust erodes. A democracy weakens not because laws are absent, but when laws exist, yet those entrusted to enforce them lack the will – or the clarity – to do so.

My father’s story, and how words lead to murder

My father was born in Würzburg, Germany, in 1922. In 1938–39, he was one of 10,000 children rescued on the Kindertransport and sent alone to England. Later, despite being a Jewish refugee from Nazism, he was classified an “enemy alien” and interned. Many of his relatives perished.

I grew up understanding that German Jews were not strangers to their country. They were doctors, lawyers, artists, and soldiers who had fought for Germany in the First World War. Within two decades, they lost their rights, their professions, and their humanity.

The Holocaust didn’t start with gas chambers. It began with words. Caricatures, conspiracies, claims that Jews controlled governments, accusations of blood libels, and today, false allegations of genocide.

When I saw Jewish professionals and artists canceled in Australia in 2023 and 2024, I thought of the 1930s. When I saw Jewish businesses and synagogues firebombed, I thought of Kristallnacht.

History may not repeat exactly, but it rhymes loudly for those who are listening.

Absence of law – or absence of will?

I don’t believe Australia lacks laws. I believe it lacks will.

After the events of October 7, Australian Security and Intelligence Organisation Director-General Mike Burgess publicly warned of a direct link between inflammatory language and violent acts. In February 2025, he stated that antisemitism had become the top priority of his agency.

Yet enforcement has not kept pace with rhetoric.

The story of Al Capone offers a lesson. Authorities couldn’t initially convict him for violence, but they eventually jailed him for tax evasion. Why? Because they knew he had to be stopped. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

Zero tolerance isn’t about suppressing dissent, it’s about drawing a firm line: collective demonization of any group corrodes society.

On 14 December 2025, the Bondi Chanukah massacre shattered any illusion that rhetoric has no consequences. Fifteen people were murdered, dozens injured. The perpetrators were Australian, and according to police reports, they condemned “Zionists” as part of their motive for the massacre.

When people are repeatedly told that “Zionists” are evil or deserving of violence – and when “Zionist” is widely understood as “Jew” – the moral barrier erodes.

Politics and the climate of normalization

This issue isn’t unique to Australia. Across Western democracies, progressive politics has created room for anti-Israel sentiment to spill over into hostility toward Jews. Tropes about Jewish power, money, and control have re-emerged, albeit in new forms.

We hear about a “Zionist lobby” controlling media, courts, or governments. We hear claims that Jews kill babies. The language may change, but the pattern remains unchanged.

Many of the staunchest defenders of “free speech” would rightly condemn someone who chanted, “All Muslims are terrorists.” They would rush to court, and they would be right to do so.

The principle cannot be selective, but in the past two-and-a-half years, it’s become increasingly so.

Why I continue

My legal actions are not about vengeance or silencing legitimate criticism of Israel. They are about affirming that Jews, like Muslims, Christians, Hindus, Buddhists, and atheists, are entitled to protection from collective vilification.

They are about reminding the government that laws passed by Parliament and upheld by the courts must be enforced consistently. They are about empowering ordinary people to understand that we are not helpless.

Yes, litigation is exhausting. It’s slow, uncertain, and expensive. But I think of my father, of the teenage boy sent alone to England and labeled an enemy. I think of the long, painful path from casual dehumanization to catastrophe.

If my actions achieve nothing more than clarifying that chanting “All Zionists are terrorists” has no place in a liberal democracy, and that words matter, then the effort will have been worthwhile.

The Jewish story is one of resilience. But resilience shouldn’t require silence.

We live in a country with good laws – laws that have protected others. Equality demands those laws protect us too. If we insist – calmly, lawfully, persistently – those laws will be enforced.

Because Jewish history teaches us this: silence never saved us. Courage and faith did.

Menachem Vorchheimer is a member of Mizrachi Melbourne, a husband and father, with a background in business, law and community advocacy. He has been involved in efforts to reform discrimination legislation and strengthen sentencing for prejudice-motivated crimes. His work has intersected with a number of significant matters, including the Ocean Grove Football Club case and early landmark convictions in the 2000s addressing hate-based conduct.