I live in Brussels.
Not the Brussels of postcards and European institutions. The real Brussels, where Jewish schools require armed guards, where synagogues resemble fortresses and where many Jews think twice before displaying a Star of David in public.
I know what antisemitism looks like when it stops hiding. I know what happens when politicians convince themselves they can accommodate extremism, excuse it, rationalize it or simply remain silent in its presence. And I am watching many of the same mistakes unfold in New York.
Brad Lander, who is currently running for the U.S. House of Representatives in New York’s 10th Congressional District, should be paying attention.
In Europe, antisemitism did not return wearing a swastika. It returned wearing the language of social justice. It returned wrapped in political causes. It returned disguised as activism. It returned claiming that Jews were powerful enough to deserve different rules than everyone else.
Many politicians convinced themselves they could participate in these movements, stand beside these activists and still somehow protect their Jewish communities. They were wrong.
The extremists eventually revealed exactly who they were. They always do.
Today, across parts of Europe, Jewish ritual slaughter faces restrictions. Circumcision is regularly targeted. Jewish students hide their identities. Jewish families weigh whether their children have a future in the countries their grandparents helped build.
That is not ancient history. That is Europe today.
The most painful part is that many of the politicians who helped create this climate believed that they would be exempt because they were Jews themselves. History has never worked that way.
The mob does not stop to examine your voting record. It doesn’t care how progressive you are. It doesn’t care how many times you criticized Israel. It doesn’t care how many political alliances you formed.
When antisemitism grows, the distinction between the “good Jew” and the “bad Jew” eventually disappears. The antisemites make that decision for you.
Lander should understand this better than most. Standing beside politicians who repeatedly tolerate or excuse anti-Jewish rhetoric does not buy protection. It merely delays the moment when you discover you were never truly accepted in the first place.
Europe learned this lesson the hard way.
Many Jewish politicians believed they could serve as bridges. Instead, they became shields. They defended movements that ultimately turned against their own communities. They spent years explaining away warning signs that later became undeniable realities.
Today, New York stands at a crossroads. For generations, it represented the opposite of Europe.
A Jew could walk proudly through Brooklyn, Queens, Manhattan or Staten Island without wondering whether Jewish life itself would become controversial. A Jew could support Israel without being treated as morally suspect. A Jew could attend a parade, synagogue, school event or communal gathering without requiring the kind of security infrastructure common in Europe.
That confidence is beginning to crack. And the people accelerating that process are not wearing uniforms. They are winning elections. They are shaping public discourse and deciding what is acceptable and what is not.
When Jewish concerns are mocked, dismissed or treated as an inconvenience, the message spreads quickly. The same goes for when Jewish institutions require extraordinary protection while politicians offer only platitudes.
That message is simple: You are welcome, but only conditionally.
Europe knows exactly where that road ends. I know because I live there. And every year, I meet Jewish families asking whether their future lies elsewhere.
Some move to Israel. Some move to America. Some simply leave the communities their families spent generations building—not because they wanted to, but because they felt they had no choice.
Lander still has a choice. He can continue down a path that normalizes alliances with those who traffic in hostility toward Jews and Israel, convincing himself that political convenience outweighs principle. Or he can recognize the warning signs that Europe ignored for far too long.
The issue is not disagreement. Democracies thrive on disagreement. The issue is whether antisemitism is confronted consistently, even when it comes from political allies, ideological partners or movements that claim moral virtue.
Too many European leaders failed that test. The consequences are visible every day on the streets of cities like Brussels, Paris and Berlin.
The symbolism matters. When New York’s mayor is unable to attend the Israel parade, breaking a tradition that has endured for more than six decades, it sends a message far beyond a scheduling conflict. Traditions like these are public affirmations that the Jewish community belongs, that support for Jewish life is visible and that intimidation will not dictate civic participation. When such a longstanding tradition is broken amid rising hostility toward Jews, many will understandably see it as a sign of retreat.
Those who harass, threaten or target Jews may interpret that absence as validation rather than condemnation. Public officials must recognize that, in moments like these, symbolism carries real consequences, and failing to stand visibly with the Jewish community risks normalizing a climate in which antisemitism is increasingly tolerated.
New Yorkers should ask themselves some difficult questions: Do you want your city to become the next Brussels? Do you want Jewish parents debating whether their children should wear visible Jewish symbols? Do you want synagogues operating behind ever-higher walls and ever-heavier security? Do you want Jewish life treated as something that must constantly defend its own legitimacy?
Because that is how it starts. Not with a single law, election or politician. But with a culture that gradually teaches Jews that their concerns matter less than everyone else’s.
As someone who has spent decades fighting antisemitism across Europe, I am offering New York a warning born from experience. The choices being made today will determine whether New York remains the safest and most vibrant Jewish city in the Diaspora—or whether it begins to resemble the Europe that so many Jews once believed could never change.
Europe has already seen this movie. The ending is not one New York should be eager to repeat.
