From the Muddy River to Bondi Beach!

Australia is more than just a country; in many ways, it is a small reflection of the world itself.

Today, people from more than 190 different countries live across this island continent, either as citizens or migrants who have made Australia their home.

More than 200 different ethnic backgrounds are represented across the country, and over 300 languages are spoken in everyday life. Alongside English, hundreds of other languages can be heard in streets, schools, workplaces and public spaces.

From Europe to Asia, from Africa to the Middle East, Australia is a vast human mosaic.

According to 2024 figures, around 8.6 million Australians were born overseas.

That represents approximately 31.5 per cent of the population.

At the 2021 Census, the figure was 27.6 per cent.

That increase shows just how much migration continues to shape and energise Australian society.

Alongside Christianity, faiths including Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism and Judaism all have a place in this country.

In Sydney, mosques continue to open; on Fridays, Muslims stand shoulder to shoulder in prayer.

At the same time, in the same city, churches fill on Sunday mornings.

The faiths may be different, but the search is often the same: peace, justice and humanity.

Australia’s diversity has been supported by government policies that have remained broadly consistent, even as governments have changed.

Harmony, coexistence and mutual respect are not simply words; they are values that become meaningful when they are lived — in neighbourhoods, classrooms, workplaces and the ordinary encounters of daily life.

But from time to time, people with harmful intentions, from within or outside the country, try to disturb that peace.

That was also the aim of the Bondi attack:

To shake Australia’s image as a safe, free and tolerant country.

To bring hatred, hostility and terror into this society.

Violence and terrorism have no place in any faith.

Neither Islamophobia nor antisemitism has any place in this world.

Multiculturalism is not only a social reality in Australia; it has long been supported as a matter of public policy and held up as a model internationally.

At both federal and state levels, ministers, institutions and public policies work to protect and strengthen that framework.

This mix of languages, beliefs and cultures living under one national roof is not only one of Australia’s social strengths; it is also an important part of the country’s economic and cultural strength — a reminder that diversity can become a shared resource when people are given the chance to participate and belong.

Sometimes, however, you do not need hundreds of pages of reports, census figures or parliamentary speeches to understand Australia’s multicultural story.

Sometimes it is enough to look at a doctor who has spent years studying, yet ends up driving an Uber.

Sometimes at an engineer who spends years waiting because of the requirement for “local experience”…

And sometimes at a Syrian migrant who, while bullets were flying in Bondi, chose to move towards the attacker rather than away from him.

One story shows us the barriers the system places in front of migrants.

The other shows us how, despite those barriers, migrants can develop a deep sense of belonging to this country.

Together, the two stories leave Australia with the same question:

Does this country truly recognise the human potential it already has — and does it give that potential every reasonable chance to flourish?

Australia is one of the world’s most successful multicultural societies.

Millions of people from almost every corner of the world share the same cities, the same schools, the same hospitals, the same parks and, most importantly, the same future.

Different languages, religions, skin colours and cultures all meet under the same national roof.

This diversity is not a burden on Australia; it is one of the most valuable parts of the country’s economic, social and cultural capital, carrying with it knowledge, experience, resilience and stories from almost every corner of the world.

But there is also a growing contradiction within this success story.

On the one hand, Australia invites skilled and educated people from around the world.

On the other, it often fails to make full use of their knowledge, qualifications and experience.

That is why the issue raised by former Department of the Prime Minister and Cabinet and Treasury secretary Martin Parkinson is so important.

It exposes a contradiction within a country that has made multiculturalism part of public policy and brought millions of people from different backgrounds together around a shared future.

Doctors arrive.

Engineers arrive.

Teachers, academics and other highly trained professionals arrive.

Yet because of qualification recognition, professional accreditation, licensing requirements and the familiar demand for “local experience”, some are forced to spend years working outside their professions.

On one side, Australia has a shortage of doctors; on the other, migrant doctors struggle to return to their profession.

On one side, schools need teachers; on the other, qualified teachers wait for their credentials to be recognised.

On one side, infrastructure projects, housing construction and demand for engineers continue to grow; on the other, engineers are told they do not have “Australian experience” and end up working outside their field.

Parkinson used a striking metaphor:

The system has become like a river clogged over time with mud and debris.

The water is there.

The source is there.

The potential is there.

But the flow is not.

Or at least, it is not strong enough.

And migrants are not the only ones paying the price.

Australia is paying it too.

When a doctor spends years behind the wheel instead of practising medicine, that is not only a loss to that doctor’s career; it is also a loss to the Australian patient waiting for hours in a hospital.

When a teacher cannot enter the classroom, that is not only the teacher’s problem; it is also the problem of the school facing a teacher shortage.

When an engineer cannot work in their profession, it is not simply a personal disappointment; it is lost productivity for the country.

Bringing a migrant to Australia is not, by itself, success.

Real success is being able to use that person’s knowledge, profession, labour and experience as part of the country’s shared future — allowing ability to become contribution, and contribution to deepen belonging.

But there is another side to Australia’s migration story.

We saw it in Bondi.

In the Qur’an, the holy book of Muslims, verse 32 of Surah Al-Ma’idah says:

“Whoever kills a person — unless in retribution for murder or for spreading corruption in the land — it is as though he has killed all mankind; and whoever saves a life, it is as though he has saved all mankind.”

And in Bondi, as an attacker tried to drag the place into darkness, a light appeared in the middle of that darkness.

Syrian migrant Ahmed el Ahmed put his own life at risk.

To stop more people from dying, he moved towards the attacker and put himself in harm’s way.

Ahmed’s reaction reflected the conscience of Australian society.

After fleeing Assad’s regime and leaving Syria in 2006, and following years of hardship before becoming an Australian citizen in 2022, Ahmed saw citizenship as more than a document.

For him, it meant belonging, conscience and responsibility — the quiet understanding that becoming part of a country also means caring about the people who share it with you.

That is why Bondi Beach is more than just a beach.

It is a shared public space where people from different backgrounds live and meet side by side.

Bondi has become one of the places where all of us come together.

The park benches.

The endless ocean view.

The chance to stand quietly at sunset and look at life for a while…

Only last month, we welcomed two dear guests there.

Mr Safi from Germany.

And H. Ibrahim from Kazakhstan, a friend I had missed for a long time, with whom I shared breakfast with his family while looking out over the sea.

For many of us, what remains from journeys between countries is often not a photograph, but a lasting feeling that stays in the memory: the moment a place that once felt distant begins to feel familiar, welcoming and, eventually, like home.

Bondi Beach is a place where people of every faith, language and background can feel that they belong.

A place where people can breathe freely and feel safe.

“This place belongs to all of us,” Ahmed said.

And in the eyes of Jews, Christians, Buddhists and Muslims alike, he became a hero.

In one of Sydney’s, and indeed Australia’s, most symbolic public spaces, people were running for their lives when Syrian migrant Ahmed el Ahmed moved towards the attacker.

He risked his own life to try to save others.

He was shot.

He was wounded.

But he did not step back.

At that moment, nobody asked Ahmed where he was born.

Nobody asked what language he spoke.

Nobody asked what accent he had when he spoke English.

What people saw was simply an Australian who was prepared to risk his own life to save people he had never met.

And perhaps that is where the real meaning of multiculturalism becomes clear: not simply in how many cultures live together, but in how deeply people come to care for one another.

Multiculturalism is not just about different foods being sold on the same street, different festivals being celebrated or dozens of languages being spoken.

The real question is whether people who come from different parts of the world can see this country as “their country” too.

That is exactly what Ahmed did.

He did not see citizenship as simply an identity card.

He lived it as belonging and responsibility.

The message he gave in Bondi could be summed up in one sentence:

“This is my country too, and the lives of the people here are my responsibility too.”

For that reason, Ahmed’s story is not only a story of heroism.

It is also a living example of why Australia’s migration and multicultural story matters — because belonging is ultimately measured not only by where a person comes from, but by the life they build and the responsibility they are willing to share.

Because the person we call a “migrant” is not simply someone who crosses a border or receives a visa.

That person may become your doctor.

Your child’s teacher.

The engineer who designs your home.

The person who holds your mother’s or father’s hand in an aged-care facility.

A social worker helping someone who is homeless.

A business owner who creates jobs for dozens of people.

And one day, that same person may put themselves in front of bullets in Bondi to save the lives of strangers.

That is why it is a mistake to discuss migrants only in terms of numbers.

How many arrived?

How many visas were granted?

What impact did they have on housing prices?

What was their effect on the labour market?

Of course, all of these questions can be discussed.

But any debate that ignores the human capital, productivity, labour and social contribution migrants bring to Australia will remain incomplete. Behind every statistic is a person carrying skills, memories, hopes and the possibility of contributing to a shared future.

Especially today, as political pressure grows to reduce migration further, another reality should not be overlooked:

Reducing migration may be easy — but who will fill the gaps migrants currently fill?

From health care to aged care, from disability services to housing and construction, many sectors rely heavily on migrant labour.

In the years ahead, as Australia’s population ages, the pressure on the care sector alone will continue to grow.

So the issue is no longer simply:

“How many migrants will come?”

The real question is:

“As we reduce migration, are we also working out who will meet the country’s growing needs?”

Because you can reduce the numbers.

But you cannot, with the same stroke of a pen, remove the patient waiting in hospital, the elderly person in aged care, the homeless person on the street, the classroom without a teacher or the homes that still need to be built.

The challenge facing Australia is much bigger than the question of whether there should or should not be migration. It is also a question of how wisely and fairly the country recognises the people, skills and potential already within its communities.

The real issue is how well we use the potential of the people who come here.

Give people the opportunity to belong, and they can give that country not only their labour, but also their ideas, their commitment and their hearts.

Ahmed el Ahmed showed that to Australia in Bondi.

A person’s contribution to this country is not determined by where they were born.

It is not determined by their name.

It is not determined by their accent.

It is not determined by their faith.

What matters is what they contribute to the society in which they live.

Sometimes that contribution is treating a patient.

Sometimes it is educating a student.

Sometimes it is building a bridge.

Sometimes it is building a new home.

Sometimes it is holding the hand of an elderly person who needs care.

Sometimes it is helping a homeless person find a way back into life.

And sometimes it is risking your own life in Bondi to save people you have never met.

These people are part of Australia’s real wealth — not because they all share the same story, but because their different stories can become part of one shared national future.

That is why the muddy river must be cleared.

Because it is not only the future of migrants flowing through that river.

Australia’s future is flowing through it too. Every qualification recognised, every barrier fairly removed and every person enabled to contribute allows that river to run a little more freely.

And the issue is far greater than the migration numbers that dominate political debate from time to time.

The real question is who, over the next 10 years, will carry the growing pressure on Australia’s health system, aged care, disability services, housing and construction sectors.

The skilled and qualified migrants who are today described as “too many” may tomorrow be among the very people Australia depends on most.

Who will hold the hand of the elderly person who needs care?

Who will work in our aged-care homes?

Who will care for patients in our hospitals?

Who will help the homeless person on the street?

Who will build the new homes Australia needs?

Who will fill the country’s chronic labour shortages?

That is why the real question should not be:

“How many fewer migrants should Australia accept?”

It should be:

“How many skilled migrants does a prosperous Australia need — people who will contribute, who will not add to the burden, but help carry it?”

That is the question we need to answer.

We need to ask:

“Who will carry the burden of an Australia whose needs are growing?”

Governments and policies will change over the years.

But the future of a nation must be imagined in generations. The strongest Australia will be one that not only welcomes diversity, but recognises its potential, makes room for contribution and turns difference into a deeper sense of shared belonging.

e.cansever@zamanaustralia.com.au