The March of Humanity in the light of what we know now

We have all seen the photo. Clover Moore, Bob Carr, Ed Husic, Craig Foster, Jenny Leong, Anthony D’Adam, Stephen Lawrence, Jihad Dib, Lynda Voltz, Cameron Murphy, Sarah Kaine, Penny Sharpe, Julian Assange, Mehreen Faruqi, and Mary Kostakidis marching across the Sydney Harbour Bridge at the so-called March for Humanity.

It was promoted as a humanitarian demonstration, even a protest for starving children. Who in the greater community could object to that? Who wouldn’t want to march for the hungry?

But that’s not the only image the cameras captured. The defining part of that photo was Ayatollah Khomeini’s face, looming over Australian leaders as they walked beneath his banner. That single image swallowed up every slogan, every chant, every speech. Whatever message of compassion may have been intended was drowned out by the portrait of a tyrant, a man whose regime executed dissidents, persecuted minorities, subjugated women, and exported terror across the globe.

At the time, many dismissed criticisms of that photo as partisan or overblown. But now, in the wake of the revelations that Iran directed terrorist attacks on Australian soil, the meaning of that image has changed. What once looked like bad optics now stands as proof of how blind we were. It shows how easily noble causes were hijacked, how comfortably hatred was paraded as humanity, and how many Australians simply didn’t see it.

The Jewish community recognised immediately how grotesque the image was. But the wider public didn’t. They told themselves it was a march for peace. We saw the hypocrisy: starving children used as a cloak to legitimise a dictatorship. And now we know, beyond any doubt, that the regime whose leader’s face hung over that march is the same regime orchestrating violence here in Australia. That photo is no longer a symbol of naivete. It is a warning of complicity.

It is also impossible to ignore the role of Bob Carr. Once a premier and foreign minister, Carr now stands not just as a misguided “useful idiot,” but as something far more dangerous. His appearance at the March for Humanity, beneath Khomeini’s face, was not an accident of optics. It was a choice. And his rhetoric since has only confirmed how far he has crossed the line. When someone of Carr’s stature speaks in ways that echo the propaganda of foreign regimes, it is not harmless contrarianism. It emboldens extremists, legitimises antisemitism, and weakens Australia’s democratic resilience.

Iran is not the only bad actor. Qatar has spent decades using its wealth to shape global narratives. It hosts Hamas leaders in Doha, pours money into international media, and funds organisations and campaigns that extend far beyond the Middle East. Australians consuming news or attending rallies rarely ask who is behind the messages, the chants, the logistics. But we must ask now. Because what we know about Iran today could just as easily be true of other actors whose influence remains hidden in plain sight.

Most in the greater community would be horrified to learn how foreign regimes exploit our freedoms to run influence operations here. They do it quietly, through charities, activist groups, student unions, and media platforms. They hide behind humanitarian language, presenting themselves as defenders of children, peace, or justice, while promoting the talking points of regimes that deny all three. The photo of Khomeini’s face on our bridge is the perfect metaphor: a march sold as humanity but remembered for complicity with tyranny.

The government’s decision to expel the Iranian ambassador and move to list the IRGC as a terrorist organisation confirms what Jewish leaders warned all along. This threat was real. But even now, too many Australians don’t see it. They don’t connect the dots between the slogans shouted on our streets and the orders whispered in Tehran. They don’t realise that what looks like compassion can be manipulation. They don’t understand that while Jewish Australians have long felt this threat every day, the wider public was lulled into thinking it was someone else’s problem.

That is the lasting truth of the March for Humanity. The photo captured not compassion, but complicity. The defining part of that photo was Khomeini’s face towering above Australian leaders, and now, knowing what we know, it is impossible to excuse. It showed how easily principles can be compromised, how quickly leaders can abandon moral clarity, and how blind a society can be to the dangers in front of it. If Australia is to protect its democracy, we cannot look away again.

Now is the time for Australians of goodwill to speak up, to stand together, and to make clear that this country will never again be a platform for Tehran’s terror, Doha’s propaganda, or the dangerous rhetoric of those who give them cover. The cameras may have captured Khomeini’s face on our Harbour Bridge, but history will capture what we do with this knowledge. And it is our responsibility to ensure the picture that endures is one of unity, courage, and an unwavering stand against antisemitism and hate.

Michael Gencher is Executive Director of StandWithUs Australia