Dvir Abramovich: Australia’s social fabric strains as Albo cuts role of Special Envoy for Social Cohesion

There are decisions governments make that are loud — budget blowouts, ministerial scandals, high-profile reforms — and there are decisions that are quiet. They barely register. They come without press conferences or legacy statements. And yet, they leave a deeper mark than anyone realises at the time.

This week, the Albanese Government made one of those quiet decisions: to eliminate the role of Special Envoy for Social Cohesion, previously held by Peter Khalil.

There was no policy paper, no formal handover, no replacement. Just an assurance that “the whole Government” would continue to work on cohesion, and a nod to separate envoys on anti-Semitism and Islamophobia.

And with that, one of the few symbols of national leadership dedicated to stitching this frayed country back together quietly disappeared.

At a time when Australia is more fragmented, distrustful and polarised than it has been in decades, the moment invites reflection.

We live in an age of spiralling distrust between communities, between citizens and institutions, between the margins and the centre.

From cultural flashpoints on university campuses, to fractured debates over identity, race, faith and immigration, the old instinct to give one another the benefit of the doubt has curdled into suspicion. What holds us together is no longer self-sustaining.

And in such moments, leadership matters. Not just reactive leadership, but symbolic and moral leadership. The kind that says cohesion is not peripheral. It is central. It is the core business of a democracy to hold.

When Peter Khalil was appointed as Australia’s first special envoy for social cohesion, the role wasn’t about headlines. It was about listening. Visiting. Reassuring. Showing up when things felt tense and fragile, and reminding communities that someone in Canberra still cared about the common thread.

It was a small role. But it stood for a big idea: that social cohesion does not just happen. It must be nurtured.

Social cohesion is not a side issue.

It is the atmosphere in which democracy, prosperity and public safety all either survive or suffocate. A society that still sees itself as one people — a “we” rather than a collection of competing “mes” — is a society that can withstand crises, absorb shocks, and recover with dignity.

It is the unspoken glue that holds the civic order together: the shared assumptions, the small civic courtesies, the quiet instinct to look out for others.

When that trust erodes, the consequences are not always immediate, but they are always profound. We lose the capacity to compromise. Every debate becomes a battleground.

And when people stop believing they are part of the same national story, they begin to act accordingly. A brittle society may not collapse all at once, but it splinters — one grievance, one act of rage, one moral fracture at a time.

Since October 7, 2023, when the Hamas attacks in Israel triggered a global cascade of political fury and polarisation, Australia has not been immune. Anti-Semitism has surged at a pace many of us thought unimaginable.

There is a growing unease, an ambient tension, a sense that the unwritten rules of mutual respect have been quietly withdrawn. This is not just about anti-Semitism. It is about the deeper rupture underneath.

In recent years, Australian governments have spoken often of cohesion, especially in the aftermath of terrorism, racial violence or pandemic-driven stress. But cohesion is not built in moments of crisis. It is built slowly and deliberately, through the everyday rituals of shared nationhood.

It emerges from consistent, long-term engagement, from policy grounded in empathy, and from leadership that speaks to the whole of who we are.

Cohesion is not a reflex. It is a discipline. A national muscle that must be exercised before the emergency, not during it.

It is encouraging that the Government continues to support other envoy roles and remains engaged on issues of identity and belonging. The broader point, however, is that cohesion — real cohesion — requires more than portfolios and policies. It requires presence. It requires a visible, ongoing commitment to the social fabric of the nation, not only in moments of tragedy or volatility, but in the quieter seasons when it is easier to assume that all is well.

Australia is not immune to the centrifugal forces pulling at so many democracies today. We see the pattern elsewhere. The erosion of civic trust. The rise of ideological extremes.

The weaponisation of grievance. The healthiest societies are not the ones without disagreement. They are the ones that retain enough shared moral ground to withstand it.

And this is where government has a unique responsibility. Not as the only builder of trust, but as its most visible custodian.

Through its tone, its decisions, and its willingness to stand in the breach when things threaten to fracture, it helps shape the national story about who belongs, what matters, and what we owe one another.

The idea of a national role focused on social cohesion was not just symbolic. It was wise. It quietly affirmed that the project of holding people together is worthy of its own voice. That it is not incidental to good governance, but essential to it.

Australia’s social fabric remains strong.

But it is under strain. And we should treat cohesion with the same care and intentionality we devote to our economy or national security — not as a passive setting, but as a living system that requires attention and support.

The next chapter of Australian life will be defined not only by how we grow, but by how we hold together. That work is not optional. It is urgent.

And it deserves nothing less than our full attention.

Dr Dvir Abramovich is chair of the Anti-Defamation Commission