For a man who pretends to wear the mantle of shomer, “guardian,” of Israel and the Jewish people, Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer’s recent actions, or lack thereof, tell a different story.
In moments when Jewish communities are under increasing threat, particularly on America’s college campuses, Schumer has been conspicuously absent, leaving many to wonder if the emperor has no clothes. At a time when public outcry is desperately needed to confront antisemitism, Schumer’s silence and inaction are as disturbing as they are disappointing. A clear case of actions speaking louder than words.
The plight facing Jewish students on college campuses has been well documented, with incidents at institutions like Columbia University serving as particularly egregious examples. Columbia, an Ivy League institution located in the heart of New York, Schumer’s own state, has become a hotbed of antisemitic rhetoric and hostility. This hostility has increasingly been cloaked under the guise of “pro-Palestinian” activism, a term that often leaves Jewish students feeling marginalized, unsafe and targeted. And yet, Schumer, positioned in one of the most powerful roles in the U.S. Senate, has failed to so much as publicly condemn these actions at his home-state institutions. His inaction leaves Jewish students to fend for themselves against an environment that fosters hate and bigotry. A recent congressional report shows how he texted then-Columbia president Minouche Shafik telling her to keep her head down as the noise is only coming from Republicans.
One of the most distressing aspects of Schumer’s abandonment has been his refusal to bring an antisemitism bill to the Senate floor. Passed in the House, where Rep. Elise Stefanik (R-N.Y.) and her Republican colleagues have taken a more proactive stance, the bill addresses the urgent need to combat antisemitism on college campuses. Republican-led efforts have brought a spotlight to the moral decay within higher education, exposing administrative complacency, outright hostility, and environments that breed antisemitism. Stefanik, in particular, has taken the kind of bold, unapologetic stance that the Jewish community had once hoped would come from Schumer. Instead, Schumer’s silence underscores his detachment from the concerns of the Jewish community.
Schumer’s reluctance to act is particularly troubling given the severity of what Jewish students endure. Encampments and protests on campuses like Columbia have grown more extreme, and they are not limited to expressions of political opinions. Rather, they often cross into displays of outright hate, targeting Jewish students with a vitriol that seeks to marginalize and intimidate. In many cases, these events are tolerated by university administrations under the guise of free speech, further isolating Jewish students who have no allies in either their administration or, it seems, in the Senate.
Despite his claims of being a defender, a shomer, for Jews and Israel, Schumer’s silence gives the impression that these issues are either too controversial or too inconsequential to merit his attention. His inaction sends a message that Jewish students’ rights to safety and dignity are not worth protecting, at least not with any urgency.
His indifference has also allowed dangerous precedents to take root. Colleges that face little or no pushback from the Senate will likely continue to foster these hostile environments. Without strong federal accountability, universities have little incentive to enforce standards of equity and inclusion for Jewish students. While Schumer’s constituents see rising antisemitism across the country, his leadership lacks any meaningful effort to address the crisis on campus, where young Jewish Americans are the most vulnerable.
It is ironic that the only sustained effort to expose and address this antisemitic environment came from the Republican-led House. The Democratic Party has traditionally portrayed itself as a champion for marginalized communities. Yet, when Jewish students are harassed and ostracized for their heritage or support of Israel, Schumer has shown no such allegiance. His failure to act reveals a disinterest that borders on negligence. The House, through Stefanik and others, has taken a clear stance by calling for accountability, advocating for investigations and shining a light on the institutional biases festering within universities.
By failing to bring the antisemitism bill to the Senate floor, Schumer has not only sidelined the Jewish community; he has allowed the narrative to be framed by those who hold antisemitic views. His reluctance to prioritize Jewish issues in the Senate mirrors the detachment and elitism so often criticized within his party. At a time when he could be leading the charge, pushing back against an insidious, rising wave of hate, Schumer has chosen instead to stand aside, leaving a vacuum in leadership that others have had to fill.
In failing to act, the Senate Majority Leader has made himself complicit in a system that deems antisemitism on campus acceptable or, worse, invisible. Each day that he remains silent is another day that universities like Columbia are left unchecked. His position affords him the power to effect real change, to hold hearings that would expose the depth of the problem, to bring legislation forward and to demand accountability. Yet, he has chosen a path of inaction, appeasement, and perhaps even indifference.
For those who once looked to Schumer as an advocate, this inaction is a betrayal and a heartbreak. It is a reminder that for some, words are easy, but action is hard. He has proven willing to wear the title of shomer in speeches and soundbites, but when the time came to truly defend the Jewish community, to make himself heard in the face of rising antisemitism, he opted for silence. Perhaps he hopes that this storm will pass, that Jewish voters will forget his inaction and remain loyal. But his lack of advocacy will not be forgotten.
The time for mere titles and symbolic gestures has passed. If Schumer truly wishes to honor the role he once claimed, he must do more than wear the mantle of shomer—he must prove it. He needs to move aside and let new leaders, like incoming senators Bernie Moreno (R-Ohio) and Dave McCormick (R-Pa.), two tremendous supporters of Israel and the Jewish people, begin to have an impact.
Ultimately, Schumer’s legacy should be shaped more by what he chose to ignore than by what he claimed to stand for. As the leader of the Senate, he has both the authority and responsibility to protect vulnerable communities, especially when hatred and hostility rear their heads so close to home. By turning a blind eye to the plight of Jewish students on campus and refusing to bring the antisemitism bill to the floor, he has sent a powerful message—not of leadership, but of abandonment.