New York state assemblyman Zohran Mamdani’s ascent to political prominence as the mayor-elect of New York City has illuminated the fault lines long running beneath the surface of American Jewry. To even refer to it as a single “community” is, by now, an anachronism.
What was once a network of shared fate and memory has splintered into ideological camps, each convinced the other has betrayed the essence of Jewish life in America. American Jewry’s vulnerability now exists on two levels: internal and external.
Internally, the community is fracturing along three intertwined axes—support for Israel, level of religious observance and political orientation.
Once a bastion of liberal values and progressive ideals, Jewish progressives now find themselves unwelcome in spaces increasingly hostile to Jewish identity, especially when expressed through support for Israel and Jewish self-determination. Meanwhile, conservative Jews find little refuge on the right, where extremist antisemitic currents, once confined to the margins, have been inching into the mainstream.
The ordinary rhythms of Jewish communal life now unfold with a kind of surreal dissonance. Spreadsheets circulate tallying which rabbis signed which open letters about Mamdani’s candidacy—and yes, there is both a liberal and a conservative version—with congregants refusing to attend the services of a rabbi who signed the “wrong” one. Synagogue listservs and WhatsApp groups have become political battlegrounds. The question of whom to invite to the Shabbat table now hinges on one’s opinion of Mamdani. The very spaces meant to foster belonging are now defined by estrangement.
Yet these internal fractures are magnified by a more alarming external shift: the crystallization of a bipartisan front increasingly hostile to Israel.
Events of the past few weeks alone suggest that positions once relegated to the political fringe—anti-Israel, and at times, openly antisemitic—are moving closer to the center in both major parties.
On the Democratic side, Mamdani’s victory as the party’s nominee for mayor of New York City marks a turning point. Despite credible reports from the Institute for the Study of Global Antisemitism and Policy linking select campaign donors to the Muslim Brotherhood, posing for selfies with an unindicted co-conspirator of the 1993 World Trade Center bombing and proclaiming admiration for the “Holy Land Five”— individuals convicted of funneling $12.4 million to Hamas—Mamdani nonetheless enjoys the backing of prominent mainstream figures such as presidential candidate Kamala Harris and Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders.
His rise signals that anti-Israel positions no longer incur political cost within progressive circles; they may, in fact, confer political capital.
On the Republican side, a parallel shift is unfolding. At a recent Turning Point USA conference, Vice President JD Vance entertained questions about America’s relationship with Israel that dripped with antisemitic undertones—asking why the United States “owed Israel anything,” given that “their religion does not agree with ours.” His response emphasized “national interest” over shared democratic values or historic alliances.
Soon after, former Fox News host and current conservative media figure Tucker Carlson, who termed Christian Zionism a “brain virus,” hosted on his program far-right activist Nick Fuentes—a white supremacist, neo-Nazi and Holocaust denier. When Carlson was criticized, Kevin Roberts, head of the conservative think tank Heritage Foundation, rushed to his defense. The Heritage Foundation is particularly known for publishing “Project Esther,” a national strategy to combat antisemitism.
Taken together, these episodes mark a bipartisan normalization of antisemitic and anti-Israel sentiment that once lingered at the edges of public discourse. On both the left and the right, antipathy toward Israel is being reframed—on one side as moral virtue, on the other as nationalist authenticity.
The first casualties of this realignment are American Jews themselves.
Those on the left feel exiled from movements they helped build. Those on the right feel unsafe among allies who trivialize or excuse antisemitism. The result is a community adrift—politically, spiritually and morally—at the very moment when solidarity is most needed.
For Israel, the implications are profound. Jerusalem must resist the temptation to align itself exclusively with one American party or ideological camp. Instead, it should nurture channels of dialogue with American Jews across the spectrum—both institutional and grassroots. Such engagement serves a dual purpose: to fortify Jewish identity and resilience amid rising hostility, and to foster within Israel a deeper understanding of how it might support the continued vitality of American Jewry.
The survival and flourishing of Jewish life in America cannot depend on the favor of transient political winds, nor can it retreat into sectarianism. The task now is to recover a sense of shared destiny—rooted not in unanimity of opinion, but in the recognition that Jewish life, wherever it unfolds, remains bound by a moral covenant older and deeper than any party line.
