The Bondi massacre.

I often talk about the days of the Good Samaritan being over. After seeing the Bondi massacre, we witnessed an incredible demonstration of heroism and bravery. People assisted total strangers and put their lives on the line.

In war, there are countless stories of courage. You expect that in war—but not on a casual family outing at one of the world’s most iconic beaches. Everyone was happy, looking forward to time with family and friends. They had no idea that, at the same moment, an act of pure cowardice was about to be unleashed on innocent people.

Make no mistake about it: it was war on that sunny afternoon. Those who could see what was happening acted immediately. They did not stop to check whether they would be safe. Like the diggers—mostly young men—who threw themselves at enemy guns, there was no mercy that day. Not then, and not at Bondi Beach.

This is what we do as Aussies. And I mean all Australians—people from every corner of the world, every religion, who embrace our way of life and live in harmony with one another. We look out for our mates. We look out for each other. I love this country and our way of life.

What I cannot stand are those who incite racism, the haters and bullies. Pack them up and send them back to wherever they came from. They would be far more suited to a country at war, because that is the world they seem to want.

What I witnessed that day in Bondi was ruthless slaughter. Nothing like this has ever been seen in our country. No one was prepared—not the public, not the police, not the rescue services. How could they be? When you live in the jungle, you learn where the animals are. Bondi is a soft target, and the animals usually stay away. This time, they didn’t. They brought hate and weapons—a deadly combination—and caught everyone by surprise.

Being a Good Samaritan is one of the defining qualities of being Australian. Over recent years, we’ve seen ordinary men and women stand up to bullies. That spirit is alive and well. These heroes slowed the killers just enough—breaking their flow and balance—to give police time to act. Who knows how many more lives would have been lost if they hadn’t?

In an instant, people banded together and took on the gunmen. An elderly couple put their own lives on the line. They were no match. The guns were turned on them, and they were shot dead. Another elderly couple saved children. Holocaust survivors lay on top of children, shielding them from the shooters. Both lost their lives.

This is the birth of the hero—and often, the death of one. If you step into an almost impossible situation, you must understand that your life is at risk.

I watched a man disarm one of the shooters. The move is what we call kiri kaeshi. He took the attacker’s balance and removed the weapon, almost in disbelief at what he had done. He placed the rifle against a tree and signalled that he was not the shooter. The attacker escaped, returned to the bridge, picked up another rifle, and began shooting again—like it was the most natural thing in the world. The rifles looked like old WWI bolt-action weapons, yet they were still capable of wreaking chaos.

I’ve been teaching martial arts and self-defence for 45 years. I try to prepare people to walk freely in the jungle—but always keep a big stick in your back pocket. Where were the police? Why weren’t they present in some form? Why weren’t these killers on anyone’s radar? Bureaucracy, red tape, and distraction allow dangerous people to slip through the cracks. Politicians are now scrambling to cover themselves, but it’s too late. New gun laws won’t help, and removing people for hate speech should have happened years ago. We must protect ourselves and this country. We need to cut out the rot.

-Andy Dickinson-