Jewish New Yorkers Betrayed? City Focuses On Foreign Affairs As Hate Crimes Soar

Paul Riverbank, 2/5/2026Rising antisemitic hate crimes unsettle NYC as leaders debate city priorities and public safety.

Professor Weeam Hammoudeh from Hunter College rises to speak. She talks in measured tones about “disparities in outcomes” for Palestinian Israelis—pointing out how, by her account, military service is a gatekeeper for jobs and living areas, breeding inequity. You can sense the tension: listeners jot notes, a few exchange glances, but no one brings up Hamas, October 7th, or the violence that shook Israelis and Jews worldwide. That silence, invisible but deafening, unsettles some in the crowd.

Outside the meeting, the city’s political storm brews quickly. Officials field angry calls. Community leaders and op-eds demand to know why a city health meeting is steering into foreign territory instead of city business. One sharply-worded editorial runs in a local paper: “Israel’s Muslim citizens not only enjoy the same civil rights, employment and wages as Jewish Israelis, they can vote and hold public office.” Underneath the rhetoric, the debate isn’t just about what happened in that stuffy Queens conference room—it’s become a proxy for bigger fears, old wounds, and questions about where New York’s priorities lie.

The data is hard to ignore. According to NYPD, hate crimes targeting Jews shot up in January: 182% higher than the same month last year. Other violent crime actually ticked down. Yet, reports fly in—swastikas scrawled on subway walls, a sedan slamming into a Brooklyn synagogue on a bone-chilling day, an elderly Hasid attacked during his commute. Michael Nussbaum, a seasoned official with the Jewish Community Relations Council, sighs, “It’s never too cold to be antisemitic.” Some days, his phone won’t stop ringing.

Things get personal for Sarah McKenney, a department director. She sat through the Queens meeting. Her presence, or maybe her reaction, turns her into a stand-in for the broader controversy: is city leadership doing its job, or is it losing focus on its core mission? Depending on who you ask, she’s either held up as an exemplar or a cautionary tale.

Mayor Zohran Mamdani is feeling the heat, too. After the car ramming at Park East Synagogue, he delivered a sharp condemnation, his words quick to hit social media feeds. Still, many in the Jewish community—frustrated, worried—find the mayor’s response hollow. “It’s time he put his money where his mouth is,” says Nussbaum, echoing a sentiment that official statements no longer go far enough.

It’s not just City Hall experiencing this pressure. Parents now double-check walking routes to yeshiva. Subway riders glance over their shoulders, finding some comfort in the pairs of uniformed officers milling by the turnstiles. Stray posters—“Hate Has No Home Here,” scrawled by hand, then tacked beneath streetlight posts—speak to a city’s collective nervousness.

So where does all this leave New York leadership? The city can’t wall itself off from global conflict, not when passions spill over into neighborhoods and leave physical marks. Every statement from officials gets parsed for hidden meanings, every meeting agenda scrutinized for what’s included—and what’s left out. In public, the debate grinds on: Should city resources be spent picking sides in a distant war, or is that a dereliction of duty to residents right here at home?

For now, uneasy calm settles in. Leaders promise vigilance, order more police near synagogues and community centers, but debates about priorities remain unresolved. People wait for the next headline, wondering if something fundamental has shifted: in the city’s politics, its sense of safety—or both. Down at the subway, on a frigid weekday morning, the crowds look wary, as if the weight of these arguments might brush past them at any moment.

It’s late afternoon in Queens when people start filing into the old government building—some clutching folders, others lost in animated conversation. A city health working group is meeting in one of those rooms with long tables and bad fluorescent lights. Once the agenda flips from routine updates to a panel called “global oppression and public health,” the atmosphere grows notably charged.Professor Weeam Hammoudeh from Hunter College rises to speak. She talks in measured tones about “disparities in outcomes” for Palestinian Israelis—pointing out how, by her account, military service is a gatekeeper for jobs and living areas, breeding inequity. You can sense the tension: listeners jot notes, a few exchange glances, but no one brings up Hamas, October 7th, or the violence that shook Israelis and Jews worldwide. That silence, invisible but deafening, unsettles some in the crowd.Outside the meeting, the city’s political storm brews quickly. Officials field angry calls. Community leaders and op-eds demand to know why a city health meeting is steering into foreign territory instead of city business. One sharply-worded editorial runs in a local paper: “Israel’s Muslim citizens not only enjoy the same civil rights, employment and wages as Jewish Israelis, they can vote and hold public office.” Underneath the rhetoric, the debate isn’t just about what happened in that stuffy Queens conference room—it’s become a proxy for bigger fears, old wounds, and questions about where New York’s priorities lie.The data is hard to ignore. According to NYPD, hate crimes targeting Jews shot up in January: 182% higher than the same month last year. Other violent crime actually ticked down. Yet, reports fly in—swastikas scrawled on subway walls, a sedan slamming into a Brooklyn synagogue on a bone-chilling day, an elderly Hasid attacked during his commute. Michael Nussbaum, a seasoned official with the Jewish Community Relations Council, sighs, “It’s never too cold to be antisemitic.” Some days, his phone won’t stop ringing.Things get personal for Sarah McKenney, a department director. She sat through the Queens meeting. Her presence, or maybe her reaction, turns her into a stand-in for the broader controversy: is city leadership doing its job, or is it losing focus on its core mission? Depending on who you ask, she’s either held up as an exemplar or a cautionary tale.Mayor Zohran Mamdani is feeling the heat, too. After the car ramming at Park East Synagogue, he delivered a sharp condemnation, his words quick to hit social media feeds. Still, many in the Jewish community—frustrated, worried—find the mayor’s response hollow. “It’s time he put his money where his mouth is,” says Nussbaum, echoing a sentiment that official statements no longer go far enough.It’s not just City Hall experiencing this pressure. Parents now double-check walking routes to yeshiva. Subway riders glance over their shoulders, finding some comfort in the pairs of uniformed officers milling by the turnstiles. Stray posters—“Hate Has No Home Here,” scrawled by hand, then tacked beneath streetlight posts—speak to a city’s collective nervousness.So where does all this leave New York leadership? The city can’t wall itself off from global conflict, not when passions spill over into neighborhoods and leave physical marks. Every statement from officials gets parsed for hidden meanings, every meeting agenda scrutinized for what’s included—and what’s left out. In public, the debate grinds on: Should city resources be spent picking sides in a distant war, or is that a dereliction of duty to residents right here at home?For now, uneasy calm settles in. Leaders promise vigilance, order more police near synagogues and community centers, but debates about priorities remain unresolved. People wait for the next headline, wondering if something fundamental has shifted: in the city’s politics, its sense of safety—or both. Down at the subway, on a frigid weekday morning, the crowds look wary, as if the weight of these arguments might brush past them at any moment.