Jewish Safety at Risk: City Hall’s Antisemitism Shake-Up Draws Federal Warning

Paul Riverbank, 2/6/2026NYC faces federal scrutiny, rising Jewish anxiety as City Hall redefines antisemitism protections.

“Antisemitism is not an abstract concern in New York City,” Cassidy wrote, “it is a lived reality for millions of students and residents.” His warning echoed through newsrooms and school auditoriums alike. Cassidy’s message was direct: If New York fails to maintain federally required protections for civil rights, a staggering $2.2 billion in school funding could vanish. These are not stakes you simply brush aside.

Walk into a café on the Upper West Side or a synagogue in Brooklyn, and you’ll hear the anxiety. A recent survey tells the same story—half of the city’s Jewish voters feel on edge, pointing to Mamdani and his closest allies as the source. It’s not just worry; many say they haven’t felt this vulnerable in years. Cassidy doubled down, pressing Mamdani to guarantee the safety and civil rights of Jewish students, while making it plain that federal eyes are watching closely.

Mamdani, for his part, stays the course. His critics point at his record—his labeling of Israel as an apartheid state, his vocal support for BDS, and his repeated arguments that the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s definition of antisemitism muddies the waters between legitimate criticism of Israeli policies and actual bigotry. “I support BDS,” the mayor has said, “and believe in nonviolent action against Israeli state violence.” He insists that policy must do a better job distinguishing between critique and hate.

But City Hall’s course correction has opened wounds. The now-shuttered Office to Combat Antisemitism used to serve as a beacon, at least for some. Critics warn that, without it, Jewish New Yorkers—especially students—feel exposed. There’s skepticism about Mamdani’s new “compliance over punishment” philosophy, especially among those fighting for better secular instruction in yeshivas and other religious schools. To them, it sounds less like a renewal and more like a retreat.

And yet, reformers haven’t called it quits either. Enter Phylisa Wisdom, City Hall’s newest point person on antisemitism, whose appointment set off as much hope as it did uproar. Her résumé? She ran the New York Jewish Agenda—a progressive, pro-Israel, anti-BDS organization known to challenge both municipal and communal conventions. She’s also an outspoken proponent of strengthening secular curriculum in religious schools. It’s a history that gives her credibility across some Jewish networks, but not enough to quiet all doubts.

Mamdani stands firmly behind his pick. “Phylisa is a respected leader in the fight against antisemitism,” he says, “not just in New York, but statewide and nationally.” Her own words underscored the sense of burden: “Jewish safety and belonging have to remain at the core of any vision for a livable city.” Still, critics weren’t sold. Councilman Simcha Felder’s response was swift and tortured—he called Wisdom’s appointment “a shanda,” carrying all the weight of disappointment that Yiddish can muster. Others argue the role risks becoming decorative, a shield against criticism without true authority.

Meanwhile, the clash over standards in yeshivas continues apace—and not quietly. State probes have repeatedly flagged some religious schools for failing to provide even basic secular education. Critics worry the city administration won’t push hard enough, while Mamdani maintains that punishing these schools through budget cuts is too drastic. Now, with federal funds at risk, the debate over how (or whether) to intervene is more charged than ever.

The ripple effects go further. In the Department of Health, a working group now voices opinions—once stifled under official policy—about “genocide in Palestine.” The language signals a city government reevaluating its boundaries, and for some, this new candor feels less like transparency and more like disquiet.

It all leaves City Hall in a precarious spot. With the Senate raising the temperature and February 19th looming—the deadline set by Cassidy for answers—the Mamdani administration must show, in clear detail, how it will protect Jewish students. Questions abound: Which definition of antisemitism will the city adopt if it abandons the global consensus? What dialogues have taken place with federal agencies? How will compliance be measured, and by whom?

In the coming days, the city’s strategy—crafted in part by Wisdom—will speak louder than any press release. The echoes will travel well beyond New York, reaching neighborhoods across the U.S. and even overseas. For now, a city accustomed to loud argument is learning what it means to debate in a period shaped more by anxiety than certainty. The next steps at City Hall may help define—not just for Jewish New Yorkers, but for all who call this city home—where the line between critique and hate should be drawn, and how a divided city can hope to protect its most vulnerable.

The ambience at City Hall isn’t quite what it used to be. Long gone is the raucous back-and-forth—now, tension buzzes through the corridors more quietly, but no less urgently. The abrupt cancellation of former executive orders by Mayor Zohran Mamdani has changed the city’s political chemistry. What made headlines almost instantly was his decision to revoke orders once meant to shield Jewish New Yorkers from hate crimes or to restrict contracts supporting boycotts against Israel. That move did not go unnoticed farther south: in Washington, Senator Bill Cassidy wasted no time penning a letter that called City Hall—and the entire city—back to attention.“Antisemitism is not an abstract concern in New York City,” Cassidy wrote, “it is a lived reality for millions of students and residents.” His warning echoed through newsrooms and school auditoriums alike. Cassidy’s message was direct: If New York fails to maintain federally required protections for civil rights, a staggering $2.2 billion in school funding could vanish. These are not stakes you simply brush aside.Walk into a café on the Upper West Side or a synagogue in Brooklyn, and you’ll hear the anxiety. A recent survey tells the same story—half of the city’s Jewish voters feel on edge, pointing to Mamdani and his closest allies as the source. It’s not just worry; many say they haven’t felt this vulnerable in years. Cassidy doubled down, pressing Mamdani to guarantee the safety and civil rights of Jewish students, while making it plain that federal eyes are watching closely.Mamdani, for his part, stays the course. His critics point at his record—his labeling of Israel as an apartheid state, his vocal support for BDS, and his repeated arguments that the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s definition of antisemitism muddies the waters between legitimate criticism of Israeli policies and actual bigotry. “I support BDS,” the mayor has said, “and believe in nonviolent action against Israeli state violence.” He insists that policy must do a better job distinguishing between critique and hate.But City Hall’s course correction has opened wounds. The now-shuttered Office to Combat Antisemitism used to serve as a beacon, at least for some. Critics warn that, without it, Jewish New Yorkers—especially students—feel exposed. There’s skepticism about Mamdani’s new “compliance over punishment” philosophy, especially among those fighting for better secular instruction in yeshivas and other religious schools. To them, it sounds less like a renewal and more like a retreat.And yet, reformers haven’t called it quits either. Enter Phylisa Wisdom, City Hall’s newest point person on antisemitism, whose appointment set off as much hope as it did uproar. Her résumé? She ran the New York Jewish Agenda—a progressive, pro-Israel, anti-BDS organization known to challenge both municipal and communal conventions. She’s also an outspoken proponent of strengthening secular curriculum in religious schools. It’s a history that gives her credibility across some Jewish networks, but not enough to quiet all doubts.Mamdani stands firmly behind his pick. “Phylisa is a respected leader in the fight against antisemitism,” he says, “not just in New York, but statewide and nationally.” Her own words underscored the sense of burden: “Jewish safety and belonging have to remain at the core of any vision for a livable city.” Still, critics weren’t sold. Councilman Simcha Felder’s response was swift and tortured—he called Wisdom’s appointment “a shanda,” carrying all the weight of disappointment that Yiddish can muster. Others argue the role risks becoming decorative, a shield against criticism without true authority.Meanwhile, the clash over standards in yeshivas continues apace—and not quietly. State probes have repeatedly flagged some religious schools for failing to provide even basic secular education. Critics worry the city administration won’t push hard enough, while Mamdani maintains that punishing these schools through budget cuts is too drastic. Now, with federal funds at risk, the debate over how (or whether) to intervene is more charged than ever.The ripple effects go further. In the Department of Health, a working group now voices opinions—once stifled under official policy—about “genocide in Palestine.” The language signals a city government reevaluating its boundaries, and for some, this new candor feels less like transparency and more like disquiet.It all leaves City Hall in a precarious spot. With the Senate raising the temperature and February 19th looming—the deadline set by Cassidy for answers—the Mamdani administration must show, in clear detail, how it will protect Jewish students. Questions abound: Which definition of antisemitism will the city adopt if it abandons the global consensus? What dialogues have taken place with federal agencies? How will compliance be measured, and by whom?In the coming days, the city’s strategy—crafted in part by Wisdom—will speak louder than any press release. The echoes will travel well beyond New York, reaching neighborhoods across the U.S. and even overseas. For now, a city accustomed to loud argument is learning what it means to debate in a period shaped more by anxiety than certainty. The next steps at City Hall may help define—not just for Jewish New Yorkers, but for all who call this city home—where the line between critique and hate should be drawn, and how a divided city can hope to protect its most vulnerable.