NYC Mayor Ignites Firestorm Over Taxpayer-Funded Anti-Israel Event

Paul Riverbank, 2/5/2026NYC anti-Israel event sparks fierce debate over public leadership, hate crimes, and local-global responsibility.

It was, to put it plainly, never destined to pass quietly. Under Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s administration, the Department of Health and Mental Hygiene convened a session that, on the surface, looked like countless government working groups. Yet the “Global Oppression and Public Health Working Group” drew headlines and fierce pushback after video surfaced of city employees—on the clock and on the public dime—listening to pointed criticism of Israel’s actions in Gaza. The session, simulcast online and reflected in dozens of Zoom windows, featured Prof. Weeam Hammoudeh of Hunter College, whose remarks lingered long after they were spoken: “So Palestinian citizens of Israel are citizens but they’re not considered nationals of the state so they’re more restricted in terms of the areas that they can live in…” She spoke methodically, citing disparities linked to the military draft and underlying social rifts, but didn’t mention the devastating attacks by Hamas last fall that many argue lay at the heart of today’s heightened anxieties.

That omission wasn’t lost on critics. Mere hours after footage began circulating, city officials and community leaders called foul—not just for the content, but for the very framework of the gathering. “Israel’s Muslim citizens not only enjoy the same rights as their Jewish neighbors—they vote, they serve in government. Painting it differently is a distortion,” argued one op-ed in the city’s tabloid. This exchange wasn’t an isolated spat; it’s become a pattern in the city’s politicized discourse about the Middle East, which often plays out far from the region itself.

The numbers, meanwhile, tell their own stubborn story. According to the NYPD, hate crimes targeting Jewish New Yorkers have surged by an eye-popping 182% since the new year—a jarring increase at the very time violent crime in general is reaching decades-long lows. The jarring nature of the statistics gets only sharper when laid against the backdrop of mounting, visible hate—like the recent incident where a car careened into the Chabad-Lubavitch World Headquarters, an act city officials quickly denounced, but which residents said barely touched the raw nerve laid bare by the last few months. One can see plenty of handwritten signs scrawled in shop windows in Brooklyn these days: “Hate Has No Home Here.” The sincerity feels less in question than the adequacy.

Sarah McKenney, a department director and one of those steering the controversial session, was at the center of the storm—introducing speakers, nudging the discussion away from the city’s uptick in hate and toward broader questions of systemic injustice abroad. Her role—civic leader, public servant, lightning rod—has become oddly emblematic of the city’s predicament. If New York cannot draw a line between its own communities’ safety and conflicts happening an ocean away, is it possible to safeguard either?

Mayor Mamdani himself has, not for the first time, found his words scrutinized as much as his policies. After a car rammed through the Park East Synagogue, he condemned the violence in clear terms. Yet for some, his statements of solidarity rang hollow. “It’s time he put his money where his mouth is,” fired off Michael Nussbaum from the city’s Jewish Community Relations Council, echoing the frustration of those who view official gestures as increasingly ceremonial.

The criticisms have even turned personal, with Mamdani’s detractors calling for an end to the working group and accountability for those involved—a demand shaped as much by fear as by anger. As subway attacks and abusive graffiti target Orthodox Jews with growing frequency, for many, the outrage is less about geopolitics and more about daily safety. In subway stations like Borough Park and Crown Heights, city workers have quietly increased patrols, and worried parents now double-check school routes that never used to pose a second thought.

Stepping back, it’s clear that the city’s internal quarrels are caught in the crosscurrents of a much larger storm. As the global debate over Israel’s actions in Gaza heats to a boil—with accusations of genocide and disputed death tolls ricocheting through international media—New York remains a living experiment in what happens when local governance becomes a forum for global contention.

At the heart of it all is a simple, if uncomfortable, question: does New York’s public leadership have a duty to address foreign conflicts, or to refocus on residents’ pressing needs at home—especially as communities feel under siege? The answer, frustrating as it is for those seeking clarity, appears to be both in flux and up for debate.

If history is a guide, New York will hold its arguments in sharply-worded meetings and on crowded street corners alike. The city’s future, however, may hinge on whether words spoken in a public health conference room are followed not only by apologies or condemnations, but by something more tangible. For now, residents watch—warily, perhaps hopefully—waiting to see which side of the crossroads their city’s leaders will ultimately choose.

On a recent Wednesday morning, a weathered sign outside City Hall caught the eye of passersby—nothing unusual there, except for the handful of city workers slipping into the building, carrying not their usual paperwork, but stacks of handouts about “public health in times of global oppression.” For New Yorkers, who have no shortage of global dramas hitting home, this was just the latest flashpoint in a debate that hardly fits within public health’s usual boundaries.It was, to put it plainly, never destined to pass quietly. Under Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s administration, the Department of Health and Mental Hygiene convened a session that, on the surface, looked like countless government working groups. Yet the “Global Oppression and Public Health Working Group” drew headlines and fierce pushback after video surfaced of city employees—on the clock and on the public dime—listening to pointed criticism of Israel’s actions in Gaza. The session, simulcast online and reflected in dozens of Zoom windows, featured Prof. Weeam Hammoudeh of Hunter College, whose remarks lingered long after they were spoken: “So Palestinian citizens of Israel are citizens but they’re not considered nationals of the state so they’re more restricted in terms of the areas that they can live in…” She spoke methodically, citing disparities linked to the military draft and underlying social rifts, but didn’t mention the devastating attacks by Hamas last fall that many argue lay at the heart of today’s heightened anxieties.That omission wasn’t lost on critics. Mere hours after footage began circulating, city officials and community leaders called foul—not just for the content, but for the very framework of the gathering. “Israel’s Muslim citizens not only enjoy the same rights as their Jewish neighbors—they vote, they serve in government. Painting it differently is a distortion,” argued one op-ed in the city’s tabloid. This exchange wasn’t an isolated spat; it’s become a pattern in the city’s politicized discourse about the Middle East, which often plays out far from the region itself.The numbers, meanwhile, tell their own stubborn story. According to the NYPD, hate crimes targeting Jewish New Yorkers have surged by an eye-popping 182% since the new year—a jarring increase at the very time violent crime in general is reaching decades-long lows. The jarring nature of the statistics gets only sharper when laid against the backdrop of mounting, visible hate—like the recent incident where a car careened into the Chabad-Lubavitch World Headquarters, an act city officials quickly denounced, but which residents said barely touched the raw nerve laid bare by the last few months. One can see plenty of handwritten signs scrawled in shop windows in Brooklyn these days: “Hate Has No Home Here.” The sincerity feels less in question than the adequacy.Sarah McKenney, a department director and one of those steering the controversial session, was at the center of the storm—introducing speakers, nudging the discussion away from the city’s uptick in hate and toward broader questions of systemic injustice abroad. Her role—civic leader, public servant, lightning rod—has become oddly emblematic of the city’s predicament. If New York cannot draw a line between its own communities’ safety and conflicts happening an ocean away, is it possible to safeguard either?Mayor Mamdani himself has, not for the first time, found his words scrutinized as much as his policies. After a car rammed through the Park East Synagogue, he condemned the violence in clear terms. Yet for some, his statements of solidarity rang hollow. “It’s time he put his money where his mouth is,” fired off Michael Nussbaum from the city’s Jewish Community Relations Council, echoing the frustration of those who view official gestures as increasingly ceremonial.The criticisms have even turned personal, with Mamdani’s detractors calling for an end to the working group and accountability for those involved—a demand shaped as much by fear as by anger. As subway attacks and abusive graffiti target Orthodox Jews with growing frequency, for many, the outrage is less about geopolitics and more about daily safety. In subway stations like Borough Park and Crown Heights, city workers have quietly increased patrols, and worried parents now double-check school routes that never used to pose a second thought.Stepping back, it’s clear that the city’s internal quarrels are caught in the crosscurrents of a much larger storm. As the global debate over Israel’s actions in Gaza heats to a boil—with accusations of genocide and disputed death tolls ricocheting through international media—New York remains a living experiment in what happens when local governance becomes a forum for global contention.At the heart of it all is a simple, if uncomfortable, question: does New York’s public leadership have a duty to address foreign conflicts, or to refocus on residents’ pressing needs at home—especially as communities feel under siege? The answer, frustrating as it is for those seeking clarity, appears to be both in flux and up for debate.If history is a guide, New York will hold its arguments in sharply-worded meetings and on crowded street corners alike. The city’s future, however, may hinge on whether words spoken in a public health conference room are followed not only by apologies or condemnations, but by something more tangible. For now, residents watch—warily, perhaps hopefully—waiting to see which side of the crossroads their city’s leaders will ultimately choose.