ANTISEMITISM AND THE ARTS – A PERSONAL VIEW – TIM STORRIER

The shocking Bondi terrorist attack in January 2026 followed two years of anti-Semitism seeping through the Australian community. At its heart has been the activist targeting of Jewish artists, musicians and writers, some of it known as “doxxing”. Tim Storrier AM is an award-winning Australian artist whose career has spanned 50 years, beginning at the age of nineteen when he was awarded the 1968 Sulman Prize at the Art Gallery of New South Wales. Storrier is now one of Australia’s most accomplished living artists. On Wednesday 18 February 2026, Tim Storrier addressed The Sydney Institute to give his personal view on the way anti-Semitism has affected Australia’s Arts community.

ANTISEMITISM AND THE ARTS – A PERSONAL VIEW

TIM STORRIER

Thank you for the invitation to speak today.

By way of background – I was a boy from rural New South Wales when I first met Gisella Schienberg of Holdsworth Galleries in Woollahra. She saw something in a struggling young artist and welcomed me as one of the first in her stable. I was included in her inaugural group exhibition in 1969, and in 1971 she gave me my first solo show. Gisella and her husband Albert took me under their wing, offering not only the opportunity to exhibit in their new and thriving gallery, but also personal generosity, guidance, and encouragement at a formative time in my life. It was also my first close connection with a Jewish family, and the warmth and friendship they extended to me endured well beyond those early years.

I want to begin by saying that what I am offering here is not a manifesto, nor a set of policy prescriptions. It is, as advertised, a personal view — informed by a lifetime working in the Arts, by observation and by a growing sense of unease about the cultural direction of the country I believed I understood.

The reason I am here today is that I am deeply concerned by what I see as the increasing marginalisation of Jewish Australians within significant parts of our cultural life. This marginalisation is rarely explicit. It does not usually take the form of official policy or public declarations. Instead, it operates through omission, silence, and a series of decisions that, when viewed individually, can be defended — but when viewed collectively, reveal a disturbing pattern.

Across sections of the arts sector, Jewish artists and Jewish perspectives appear to be becoming less welcome, less visible and more easily excluded. That is a strong claim, and it deserves to be explained carefully.

Let me be clear at the outset. I am not arguing that there are written bans on Jewish artists. I am not claiming that cultural institutions publicly announce exclusionary policies. What I am describing is something subtler and, in many ways, more corrosive; a climate in which certain identities and political positions are protected, amplified and rewarded, while others, particularly Jewish voices that do not conform to prevailing ideological expectations, are treated as problematic, risky or inconvenient.

As a painter, I have watched this unfold gradually over the past decades. At first, it was easy to dismiss as coincidence or over-sensitivity. But over time, the pattern has become harder to ignore. What has compounded my concern is the near-total silence of the wider Arts community. I am not entirely alone in holding these views, but very few artists are willing to articulate them publicly. Silence, in this case, is not neutral. It has consequences.

So how did we get here?

To understand the present, we need to examine how cultural institutions now understand their role. For much of the twentieth century, Australian cultural bodies, imperfect as they were, broadly conceived their mission as supporting artistic excellence, experimentation and national cultural development. Political views existed, of course, but they were not usually the primary organising principle.

Over the past decade or so, I have observed what I believe to be a shift away from aesthetic judgement and toward ideological alignment. This first became apparent to me through changes in major national prizes such as the Archibald and Wynne. Increased representation of women and Indigenous artists is not, in itself, controversial or objectionable. Indeed, there were good reasons to broaden representation. The problem lies not in inclusion, but in the way inclusion has been operationalised.

Critical discussion the lifeblood of any serious artistic culture has become increasingly constrained. Certain categories of work are now treated as beyond criticism, while others are subjected to intense scrutiny. The question is no longer simply, “Is this work good?” but, “Is this work politically safe?” When aesthetic judgement gives way to moral signalling, standards inevitably erode.

This shift has not occurred in isolation. It reflects the growing influence of ideological frameworks that prioritise identity, grievance and power relations as the primary lens through which culture is interpreted. These frameworks are often described under the umbrella term “woke”, though the terminology is less important than the effect. Over time, adherence to certain assumptions has come to function as an informal requirement within curatorial, administrative and funding circles.

One does not need to sign a pledge. One simply needs to understand what is expected.

Those who do not conform or who raise inconvenient questions often find themselves quietly excluded. Grants dry up. Invitations stop arriving. Careers stall. No explanation is given. This is how conformity is enforced in modern bureaucratic systems: politely, indirectly and without fingerprints.

Jews occupy an especially uncomfortable position within this framework. They do not fit neatly into the approved hierarchy of grievance. Too often, Jewish voices are collapsed into a crude caricature and treated as part of the category derided by including them with “old white men”.

It is within this environment that antisemitism has found fertile ground. Not always in crude or overt forms, but through indifference, avoidance, and selective outrage. When Jewish artists are targeted, harassed, or excluded, there is rarely a strong institutional response. When Jewish perspectives complicate preferred political narratives, they are treated as disruptive rather than legitimate.

Again and again, there has been silence from those in positions of authority; directors, curators, board members, chairs. This silence matters. Institutions teach values not only through what they say, but through what they don’t say.

To understand how this operates structurally, it is necessary to look at funding and governance.

The Australia Council for the Arts was established in 1968 and became a statutory authority in 1975. Its stated purpose was to support Australian artists through a peer-assessed grants system operating at arm’s length from the government. For many years, this model appeared broadly sound. But it was always vulnerable to capture, because funding systems inevitably shape behaviour.

Artists learn, very quickly, what kinds of works are rewarded. They learn which themes are encouraged, which language is favoured, and which political positions are safest to adopt. This is not conspiracy; it is human nature. Over time, a culture of self-censorship emerges, not imposed from above, but internalised.

In 2023, the Australia Council was restructured and renamed Creative Australia. It remains responsible for major funding and representation decisions, including Australia’s participation in international cultural events. One such decision — the selection of Khaled Sabsabi and curator Michael Dagostino to represent Australia at the Venice Biennale – exposed the ideological tensions at the heart of the system.

The appointment was initially rescinded by the board following controversy, then reinstated after an independent review. Regardless of one’s position on the outcome, the episode revealed a deeply politicised decision-making environment. The fact that such a high-profile appointment could be reversed, debated publicly, and reinstated speaks to the fragility of governance processes and the extent to which cultural representation has become a proxy battleground for political values.

This raises serious questions about transparency and accountability. These questions could be addressed, at least in part, by greater openness and including the routine release of board minutes and decision rationales. Public institutions should not fear scrutiny.

Similar concerns arise with the appointment of Hoor Al Qasimi as Artistic Director of the 25th Biennale of Sydney. The 2026 theme, Rememory, foregrounds historical grievance, displacement, and belonging. These are legitimate subjects, but they are not neutral. They reflect a consistent ideological orientation that now dominates international contemporary art.

The issue is not that these themes exist, but that they have become near-exclusive. One is entitled to ask whether Jewish narratives particularly those that do not align neatly with prevailing political orthodoxies will be included, or whether they will be filtered out as inconvenient.

Governance matters here. Trustees of major State and Federal galleries, theatres, and cultural institutions are appointed by elected governments. This helps explain the striking ideological uniformity across institutions that are meant to be independent. While arts funding is formally arm’s length, cultural leadership does not exist in a political vacuum.

The federal Minister for the Arts has not publicly addressed concerns about the exclusion or marginalisation of Jewish artists and, if I may say, “old white men”. Silence from leadership communicates priorities, whether intended or not.

Recent acts of violence in Australia have brought renewed attention to antisemitism and the vulnerability of Jewish Australians. The Bondi attack shocked the nation. The images of grief and terror should have prompted a sustained national reckoning. Instead, responses have been hesitant and fragmented. Calls for a Royal Commission have been met with limited urgency. Policy debates often appear disconnected from the realities faced by minority communities.

This climate is not abstract for me.

In 1956, when I was seven years old, my mother took me to buy shoes at the old Farmers department store in George Street, Sydney. A beautiful young woman with beautiful knees, knelt to fit my shoes. I noticed a row of numbers tattooed on her arm and began to point. My mother gently stopped me. She did not want to embarrass the woman. The woman understood and smiled at me.

Years later, I learned what those numbers meant. I learned about the Holocaust — not as an abstraction, but as lived history. I learned about the refugees who came to Australia seeking safety as far away from Europe as possible. Australia was meant to be the end of the line. The place where history could finally loosen its grip.

Some Jewish people attacked or killed in recent incidents were survivors, or children of survivors. Others were Israelis visiting what they believed was a safe country. They believed Australia was far enough away, once, it was. Now, it most definitely is not.

Not long after the October 7 attack on Be’eri and the ensuing massacre, I read in The Australian that Deborah Conway and her husband Willy Zygier, both respected performing musicians, had seen gigs cancelled and bookings dry up. Their shows were disrupted even in smaller suburban venues. At Archies it was “Bay Coast for Palestine,” at the Brunswick Ballroom “Merri-bek for Palestine,” and at Williamstown Theatre “Hobsons Bay for Palestine.” Clearly organised and coordinated disruptions. The message was unmistakable: they were being targeted because they are Jewish.

Deborah encountered the same callous indifference from parts of the music industry that I have observed across the wider Arts sector – a reluctance to stand up for Jewish artists when controversy arises, and a readiness to abandon individuals rather than risk ideological friction. Deborah has since spoken publicly about the personal and professional toll this has taken, including the possibility that she and her family may leave Australia altogether. When established Australian artists begin to contemplate emigration because they feel unwelcome in their own country, something has gone badly wrong.

I have worked as a visual artist for 50 years. Anyone who works in the Arts knows how integral Jewish colleagues are to Australian cultural life. Jewish Australians have shaped our theatres, galleries, publishing, music, and intellectual life disproportionately — not because of privilege, but because of commitment to education, debate, and cultural seriousness.

That is why the silence of so many within the Arts community is so distressing. Artists like to imagine themselves as independent, sceptical, rebellious. Yet today, many have chosen conformity and career safety over moral courage. Ideological comfort has replaced intellectual risk.

If there is a challenge I want to leave with you today, it is this: cultural institutions do not merely reflect society, they shape it. When they normalise exclusion, when they reward ideological conformity, when they remain silent in the face of prejudice, they teach citizens what is acceptable.

Antisemitism does not announce itself with banners. It returns quietly, wearing the language of justice, and relying on the exhaustion and fear of those who might otherwise oppose it.

So, what now?  We have arrived at an unfortunate alliance of convenience; the “woke”, LGBTQIA+, Indigenous, Feminists, Progressives and Radical Islam and I believe it is from this that a culture of hatred for Jews has emerged, sadly, yet again.

What can be done to remove this sinister culture from the political landscape?

The sad truth is very little in the current political environment.

Over the last decades, the governing political parties have been far too casual in their selection of ministers for the Arts. Commonly, politicians who were more interested in football, horse racing and meeting film stars were selected. The disaster in the Arts administration has been presided over by resident political ministers, State and Federal. If anything is to change, the boards of trustees have to be reviewed and possibly renewed – revitalised without the political baggage.  The funding models in the Arts must be re-examined to avoid the endless corruption based on political expediency.

How any of this can be achieved in the end is a matter for our politicians.  They must be forced to take much more care of our culture.