With antisemitism running riot in Australia (let alone pretty much everywhere in the world), it is not taken for granted when non-Jewish allies stand up publicly for the Jewish people. Especially given how they are harassed, and their livelihoods threatened.
One such ally is Perry LeGreco from The Mediterranean Greek Tavern in Elsternwick, Melbourne. Since October 7, Perry and team have been vocal in their support for the Jewish community. And it has come at a huge cost.
A Melbourne restaurant lost 90 per cent of its bookings overnight after posting a message of support for the Jewish community in a local Facebook group.
Mediterranean Greek Tavern co-owner Perry Le Greco told news.com.au that he was “blown away” by the reaction to his post in support of the business’ Jewish customers.
The restaurant is in the Melbourne inner south eastern suburb of Elsternwick, which has a large Jewish population.
Mr Le Greco said that he couldn’t sleep after seeing footage of the conflict and wanted the restaurant’s Jewish customers to know he was thinking of them.
The post, which was accompanied by a Jewish flag, read: “To all our Jewish customers, we are thinking of you in these difficult times. We hope that your family and friends are safe back home in Israel. The events of the past few days have been hard to watch and our thoughts and prayers are for the safety of all. The Jewish community have been fantastic friends over the last 22 years to our humble Mediterranean Greek Tavern.”
Mr Le Greco said it was met by a flood of comments, some positive but many negative, while the business also received abusive phone calls.
“I was showing some compassion and humanity, nothing else and I had people calling me a ‘f***ing dog’ and saying ‘You’ve chosen a side you f***ing bastard’ and calling me a ‘f***ing Jew lover’.”
The fallout saw a 90 per cent cancellation rate for the following week, with people also making bookings that turned out to be fake, he said.
“On the Saturday night, no one showed up.”
Mr Le Greco said the following week bookings were down 80 per cent.
“When I opened the book yesterday we had no one booked for the week. That never happens.”
This was November 2023 and business picked up for a while after local MP David Southwick mentioned the plight of the business on a Melbourne radio program. And while the tough times have returned, Perry has continued with his outspoken support of the Jewish community.
For instance, this is what Perry wrote in February:
How October 7 Changed My Life
I grew up with grandfathers who fought in World War II against Nazi Germany. From a young age, I was fascinated not just by what they did, but why they fought. I wanted to understand how Nazism came to be, what it truly stood for, and how it managed to take hold of an entire nation.
What disturbed me most was this: how did a country like Germany a nation of scholars, artists, engineers, and an advanced education system descend into barbarism? How did ordinary people become capable of mass murder? Not only the systematic extermination of Jews across Europe, but the devastation inflicted on countless other nations as well.
I was horrified, and endlessly curious, about how good people can become savages when swept up by ideology, fear, and groupthink.
That curiosity led me to study history deeply. I’ve always believed that before you speak on any issue, you should understand it. I wanted to know the numbers, the motives, the justifications if such atrocities could ever be justified at all. The Holocaust wasn’t just history to me. It was a warning.
For many years, I worked in business, and many of my customers were Jewish. Over time, I heard repeated concerns about antisemitism attacks, threats, warnings that it was rising again. To be honest, I dismissed it. I thought it was exaggerated. I told myself, This isn’t real antisemitism. People make jokes about everyone Greeks, Italians, Jews. I believed it was something you brushed off and moved on from.
October 7 changed me completely.
I don’t know if it was one moment or the accumulation of everything I saw, but something inside me shifted permanently. What broke through my disbelief was seeing footage of a 16-year-old girl, Noah, being dragged away and thrown onto a motorbike by terrorists. That image burned itself into me.
Families were sitting at home, eating together during a religious holiday. That detail hit hard. It reminded me of my own family gathered around food, faith, and tradition during Greek religious holidays. Ordinary moments. Safe moments. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than that safety being shattered by people who see you not as human, but as something to be erased.
These weren’t soldiers. They weren’t combatants. They were families. Parents. Children. Grandparents. Treated like absolute scum for no reason other than who they were.
What made it unbearable was this: I have a daughter the same age as Noah.
As a parent, the pain became personal. I tried to imagine the fear, the helplessness, the rage knowing your child has been taken, not because of anything she did, but because of her identity. Because someone decided her life was worth nothing.
In that moment, history stopped being something I studied and became something I felt. October 7 forced me to confront a truth I had been too comfortable to ignore: antisemitism never disappeared. It was waiting. And when it resurfaced, it did so with the same cruelty, dehumanisation, and indifference to innocent life that history warned us about.
October 7 didn’t just change my perspective.
It changed who I am and what I will never again dismiss.
My support for the Jewish community should not have come as a surprise. Anyone who knows me knows my instinct has always been to stand with people, not against them. Yet for many long-term customers, it clearly did come as a shock. That’s when I began to see a change an unsettling one.
While some offered quiet support, others revealed something far darker. The speed with which anger turned toward us was confronting. The abuse came openly and without shame: Jew-lover. Sell-out. Genocide-lover. Worse. The threats escalated to a level I had never experienced. It became so serious that we were forced to have security stationed outside our home a private residence purely out of fear.
Our restaurant required additional security cameras amid genuine concern it would be vandalised or burned.
That level of hatred was real. And it was terrifying.
What shocked me just as deeply was the exodus of customers. Bookings cancelled. Long-standing relationships severed. Some said it plainly: We will never support you again because of your beliefs.
We thought you were better than that.
It felt like punishment for compassion as if empathy itself had become a crime.
And yet, the more I was attacked, silenced, and shunned, the more resolute I became. My support only hardened. What I witnessed was horrific but also revealing. For the first time, I truly understood how ordinary people, like those in Germany during World War II, could be manipulated into believing a single distorted narrative. It was sobering, deeply sad, and profoundly disturbing.
I also need to acknowledge something uncomfortable: some of the hurt came from within the Jewish community itself. A small number of comments suggested our stance was performative that we were playing martyrs, seeking sympathy. That accusation cut deeply. At that very moment, our business was collapsing. We had effectively brought it to a standstill. Had we not borrowed money, it would not have survived at all.
We weren’t posturing. We were paying a real price.
The business had to borrow just to stay afloat something we had never needed to do before. Empty rooms replaced crowds I had seen for decades. Fast-forward to January 2026, and the business is nowhere near what it once was. There is genuine concern about its future. The reality is this: we have placed mortgages on our home simply to keep the doors open. Without that, we would have been finished.
That experience gave me a new understanding of why so many people stay silent. Supporting the Jewish community came at the cost of our livelihood. Not everyone is willing or able to take that risk. I don’t judge that. Fear is human. Survival is real.
What I do take issue with is the broader failure around us: a government that has not done enough to stem the rise of antisemitism; community leaders who chose silence over responsibility; and a collective willingness to look away to bury heads in the sand and pretend this problem does not exist.
Perhaps the greatest disappointment has been the ongoing allowance of weekly rallies in the city. For many, this felt like a slap in the face. Whether intended or not, it gave space, oxygen, and legitimacy to hatred. It blurred the line between protest and permission. History has shown us where that path leads, and watching it unfold again in real time has been one of the most confronting experiences of my life.
I’ve had a great deal of time to reflect. Would I do it again? Without hesitation. I wouldn’t change a single thing. Yes, it has come at an enormous personal cost. Financially, we are under immense strain. But my morals mean everything to me. Standing up for what is right cannot be measured in dollars.
What matters is this: I go to sleep at night without regret. I do not question my silence because I was not silent.
So where are we now?
Right now, we are still at the crossroads.
Where this business goes whether it survives depends on many factors. The economy. Motivation. Staff. And to be honest, the last two years have placed an enormous strain on our mental health. There is only so much hope a person can carry. Only so many times you can hear, we’ll never support you because of your beliefs, before it takes a toll no matter how strong you are.
But until that time comes, we keep opening the doors.
We still have bills to pay.
We still have love for this business.
And we still believe that conscience matters more than convenience.
Perry Le Greco
Mediterranean Greek Tavern
When I became aware of Perry’s and the Mediterranean Greek Tavern’s support and plight, I knew I had to write this post. It is not just important. It is the right thing to do.
So if you are in Melbourne, support Mediterranean Greek Tavern. Book a table. Grab a drink. Tell your friends. Leave a positive review. Help make sure decency is not punished into extinction.
In a world where many find it easier to stay silent, Perry chose to speak. He didn’t just offer “thoughts and prayers”; he put his home, his livelihood, and his safety on the line for us. Now, it’s our turn to show him that standing with the Jewish community isn’t a business mistake; it’s a bond that can’t be broken.
