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Letty Cottin Pogrebin wants Jews to own up to the corrosive power of shame
(JTA) — When a lawyer for Donald Trump asked E. Jean Carroll why she didn’t scream while allegedly being raped by Donald Trump, I thought of Letty Cottin Pogrebin. In her latest book, “Shanda: A Memoir of Shame and Secrecy,” she writes about being assaulted by a famous poet — and how the shadow of shame kept women like her silent about attacks on their own bodies.
That incident in 1962, she writes, was “fifty-eight years before the #MeToo movement provided the sisterhood and solidarity that made survivors of abuse and rape feel safe enough to tell their stories.”
Now 83, Pogrebin could have coasted with a memoir celebrating her six decades as a leading feminist: She co-founded Ms. magazine, its Foundation for Women and the National Women’s Political Caucus. She served as president of Americans for Peace Now and in 1982 blew the whistle on antisemitism in the feminist movement.
Instead, “Shanda” is about her immigrant Jewish family and the secrets they carried through their lives. First marriages that were kept hidden. An unacknowledged half-sister. Money problems and domestic abuse. An uncle banished for sharing family dirt in public.
“My mania around secrecy and shame was sparked in 1951 by the discovery that my parents had concealed from me the truth about their personal histories, and every member of my large extended family, on both sides, was in on it,” writes Pogrebin, now 83. “Their need to avoid scandal was so compelling that, once identified, it provided the lens through which I could see my family with fresh eyes, spotlight their fears, and, in so doing, illuminate my own.”
“Shanda” (the Yiddish word describes the kind of behavior that brings shame on an entire family or even a people) is also a portrait of immigrant New York Jews in the 20th century. As her father and mother father move up in the world and leave their Yiddish-speaking, Old World families behind for new lives in the Bronx and Queens, they stand in for a generation of Jews and new Americans “bent on saving face and determined to be, if not exemplary, at least impeccably respectable.”
Pogrebin and I spoke last week ahead of the Eight Over Eighty Gala on May 31, where she will be honored with a group that includes another Jewish feminist icon, the writer Erica Jong, and musician Eve Queler, who founded her own ensemble, the Opera Orchestra of New York, when she wasn’t being given chances to conduct in the male-dominated world of classical music. The gala is a fundraiser for the New Jewish Home, a healthcare nonprofit serving older New Yorkers.
Pogrebin and I spoke about shame and how it plays out in public and private, from rape accusations against a former president to her regrets over how she wrote about her own abortions to how the Bible justifies family trickery.
Our conversation was edited for length and clarity.
I found your book very moving because my parents’ generation, who like your family were middle-class Jews who grew up or lived in the New York metropolitan area, are also all gone now. Your book brought back to me that world of aunts and uncles and cousins, and kids like us who couldn’t imagine what kinds of secrets and traumas our parents and relatives were hiding. But you went back and asked all the questions that many of us are afraid to ask.
I can’t tell you how good writing it has been. I feel as though I have no weight on my back. And people who have read it gained such comfort from the normalization that happens when you read that others have been through what you’ve been through. And my family secrets are so varied — just one right after the other. The chameleon-like behavior of that generation — they became who they wanted to be through pretense or actual accomplishment.
In my mother’s case, pretense led the way. She went and got a studio photo that made it look like she graduated from high school when she didn’t. In the eighth grade, she went up to her uncle’s house in the north Bronx and had her dates pick her up there because of the shanda of where she lived on the Lower East Side with nine people in three rooms. She had to imagine herself the child of her uncle, who didn’t have an accent or had an accent but at least spoke English.
You describe yours as “an immigrant family torn between loyalty to their own kind and longing for American acceptance.”
There was the feeling that, “If only we could measure up, we would be real Americans.” My mother was a sewing machine operator who became a designer and figured out what American women wore when she came from rags and cardboard shoes, in steerage. So I admire them. As much as I was discomforted by the lies, I ended up having compassion for them.
It’s also a story of thwarted women, and all that lost potential of a generation in which few could contemplate a college degree or a career outside the home. Your mother worked for a time as a junior designer for Hattie Carnegie, a sort of Donna Karan of her day, but abandoned that after she met your dad and became, as you write, “Mrs. Jack Cottin.”
The powerlessness of women was complicated in the 1950s by the demands of the masculine Jewish ideal. So having a wife who didn’t work was proof that you were a man who could provide. As a result women sacrificed their own aspirations and passions. She protected her husband’s image by not pursuing her life outside the home. In a way my feminism is a positive, like a photograph, to the negative of my mother’s 1950s womanhood.
“I’m not an optimist. I call myself a ‘cockeyed strategist,” said Pogrebin, who has a home on the Upper West Side. (Mike Lovett)
You write that you “think of shame and secrecy as quintessentially Jewish issues.” What were the Jewish pressures that inspired your parents to tell so many stories that weren’t true?
Think about what we did. We hid behind our names. We changed our names. We sloughed off our accents. My mother learned to make My*T*Fine pudding instead of gefilte fish. Shame and secrecy have always been intrinsically Jewish to me, because of the “sha!” factor: At every supper party, there would be the moment when somebody would say, “Sha! We don’t talk about that!” So even though we talked about what felt like everything, there were things that couldn’t be touched: illness, the C-word [cancer]. If you wanted to make a shidduch [wedding match] with another family in the insular communities in which Jews lived, you couldn’t let it be known that there was cancer in the family, or mental illness.
While I was writing this memoir, I realized that the [Torah portion] I’m listening to one Shabbat morning is all about hiding. It is Jacob finding out that he didn’t marry Rachel, after all, but married somebody he didn’t love. All of the hiding that I took for granted in the Bible stories and I was raised on like mother’s milk was formative. They justified pretense, and they justified trickery. Rebecca lied to her husband and presented her younger son Jacob for the blessing because God told her, because it was for the greater good of the future the Jewish people.
I think Jews felt that same sort of way when it came to surviving. So we can get rid of our names. We wouldn’t have survived, whether we were hiding in a forest or behind a cabinet, a name or a passport, or [pushed into hiding] with [forced] conversions. Hiding was survival.
I was reading your book just as the E. Jean Carroll verdict came down, holding Donald Trump liable for sexually assaulting her during an encounter in the mid-’90s. You write how in 1962, when you were working as a book publicist, the hard-drinking Irish poet Brendan Behan (who died in 1964) tried to rape you in a hotel room and you didn’t report it. Like Carroll, you didn’t think that it was something that could be reported because the cost was too high.
Certainly in that era powerful men could get away with horrible behavior because of shanda reasons.
Carroll said in her court testimony, “It was shameful to go to the police.”
You know that it happened to so many others and nobody paid the price. The man’s reputation was intact and we kept our jobs because we sacrificed our dignity and our truth. I was in a career, and I really was supporting myself. I couldn’t afford to lose my job. I would have been pilloried for having gone to his hotel room, and nobody was there when he picked up an ashtray and threatened to break the window of the Chelsea Hotel unless I went up there with him.The cards were stacked against me.
In “Shanda,” you write about another kind of shame: The shame you now feel decades later about how you described the incident in your first book. You regret “how blithely I transformed an aggravated assault by a powerful man into a ‘sticky sexual encounter.’”
I wrote about the incident in such offhand terms, and wonder why. I wrote, basically, “Okay, girls, you’re gonna have to put up with this, but you’re gonna have to find your own magical sentence like I had with Behan” to get him to stop.
You write that you said, “You can’t do this to me! I’m a nice Jewish girl!” And that got him to back off.
Really painful.
I think that’s a powerful aspect of your book — how you look back at the ways you let down the movement or your family or friends and now regret. In 1991 you wrote a New York Times essay about an illegal abortion you had as a college senior in 1958, but not the second one you had only a few months later. While you were urging women to tell their stories of abortion, you note how a different shame kept you from telling the whole truth.
Jewish girls could be, you know, plain or ordinary, but they had to be smart, and I had been stupid. I could out myself as one of the many millions of women who had an abortion but not as a Jewish girl who made the same mistake [of getting pregnant] twice.
The book was written before the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. In the book you write powerfully about the shame, danger and loneliness among women when abortion was illegal, and now, after 50 years, it is happening again. Having been very much part of the generation of activists that saw Roe become the law of the land, how have you processed its demise?
Since the 1970s, we thought everything was happening in this proper linear way. We got legislation passed, we had litigation and we won, and we saw the percentage of women’s participation in the workplace all across professions and trades and everything else rise and rise. And then Ronald Reagan was elected and then there was the Moral Majority and then it was the Hyde Amendment [barring the use of federal funds to pay for abortion]. I was sideswiped because I think I was naive enough to imagine that once we articulated what feminism was driving at and why women’s rights were important, and how the economic reality of families and discrimination against women weren’t just women’s issues, people would internalize it and understand it and justice would be done.
In the case of Roe, we could not imagine that rights could ever be taken away. We didn’t do something that we should have done, which is to have outed ourselves in a big way. It’s not enough that abortion was legal. We allowed it to remain stigmatized. We allowed the right wing to create their own valence around it. That negated solidarity. If we had talked about abortion as healthcare, if we had had our stories published and created organizations around remembering what it was like and people telling their stories about when abortion was illegal and dangerous…. Instead we allowed the religious right to prioritize [fetal] cells over a woman’s life. We just were not truthful with each other, so we didn’t create solidarity.
Are you heartened by the backlash against restrictive new laws in red states or optimistic that the next wave of activism can reclaim the right to abortion?
I’m not an optimist. I call myself a “cockeyed strategist.” If you look at my long resume, it is all about organizing: Ms. magazine, feminist organizations, women’s foundations, Black-Jewish dialogues, Torah study groups and Palestinian-Jewish dialogues.
Number one, we have to own the data and reframe the narrative. We have to open channels for discussion for women who have either had one or know someone who has had one, even in religious Catholic families. The state-by-state strategy was really slow, but Ruth Bader Ginsburg wanted that. She almost didn’t get on the court because she didn’t like the nationwide, right-to-privacy strategy of Roe but instead wanted it won state by state, which would have required campaigns of acceptance and consciousness-raising.
So, the irony is she hasn’t lived to see that we’re going to have to do it her way.
You share a lot of family secrets in this book. Is this a book that you waited to write until, I’ll try to put this gently, most of the people had died?
I started this book when I was 78 years old, and there’s always a connection to my major birthdays. And turning 80 – you experience that number and it is so weird. It doesn’t describe me and it probably won’t describe you. I thought, this could well be my last book, so I needed to be completely transparent, put it all out there.
My mother and father and aunts and uncles were gone, but I have 24 cousins altogether. I went to my cousins, and told them I am going to write about the secret of your parents: It’s my uncle, but it’s your father. It’s your family story even though it’s my family, but it’s yours first. And every cousin, uniformly, said, “Are you kidding? You don’t even know the half of it,” and they’d tell me the whole story. I guess people want the truth out in the end.
Is that an aspect of getting older?
I think it’s a promise of liberation, which is what I have found. It’s this experience of being free from anything that I’ve hid. I don’t have to hide. Years ago, on our 35th wedding anniversary, we took our whole family to the Tenement Museum because we wanted them to see how far we’ve come in two generations.
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His kippah was a symbol of coexistence. Israeli police officers seized and destroyed it.
(JTA) — Alex Sinclair had no idea what would follow when he posted a picture of his mutilated kippah to Facebook on Thursday.
Sinclair, who lives in central Israel, described being detained by police officers who told him that his kippah, which had both the Israeli and Palestinian flags woven in, was illegal. When he was released from their custody, he was allowed to take his kippah home — but only after the Palestinian flag was cut out, leaving him with roughly half a head-covering.
To Sinclair, a British-born writer and educator whose books include “Loving the Real Israel: An Educational Agenda for Liberal Zionism,” the situation was galling, and not just because he had been accused of breaking a law that does not exist.
“She’d taken my possession, a religious ritual object, something that is very dear to my heart, and destroyed it,” he wrote about the officer who returned his kippah. He added, “That was it. I walked home, shaken, angry, depressed.”
A day after publishing his account of the encounter, eliciting hundreds of almost universally supportive comments, Sinclair said he had not heard from anyone in the government about his Facebook post or the complaint he filed on the Israel Police website.
But he had gotten offers of legal aid; calls from left-wing politicians, including Yair Golan; and even Shabbat flowers from a prominent liberal activist. His phone had been ringing off the hook with calls from journalists, and someone he barely knows was planning a rally for outside the police station in Modiin where he was detained.
“I’ve never experienced anything like this,” Sinclair said in an interview with the Jewish Telegraphic Agency on Friday afternoon.
The Israel Police has acknowledged the incident, saying publicly that a man had been detained after they were contacted about his kippah and had been released “following a clarification process.” They said the official complaint about the incident prevented further comment.
Sinclair said he thought the image of the defiled kippah was resonant for Jews who instinctively associated it with centuries of antisemitism. But he said he wondered whether the depth of the response reflected something else, too.
After the ceasefire in the Iran war, Israelis were “beginning to be able to breathe a little bit and look above the parapet and just sort of see, OK, maybe we can start to think about the future in a way that we really weren’t able to as a society for the past couple of years,” he said. Now, the thought for many is: “If we are looking ahead, oh my God, is this what is in store for us?”
The incident comes amid a broad crackdown on Palestinian symbols in public spaces, and allegations that police, who have come under the control of a far-right minister, are increasingly intimidating liberal activists.
Soon after being named national security minister in January 2023, Itamar Ben-Gvir told Israeli police officers to exercise wide latitude in removing Palestinian national flags from public places in order to preserve public order. He characterized the flag as a terrorist symbol, even though it is legal in Israel.
“It cannot be that lawbreakers wave terrorist flags, incite and encourage terrorism, so I ordered the removal of flags supporting terrorism from the public space and to stop the incitement against Israel,” he said at the time. Following the Oct. 7 attack on Israel later that year, the crackdown intensified even more.
During the same period, the police have been accused of using inappropriate force against people protesting against the right-wing government. Sinclair said he was concerned about the threats to liberal values in his chosen country.
“The job as a police officer is not to police people’s political opinions,” he said. “That happens in other countries that we don’t want to become.”
Among the hundreds of people responding to Sinclair’s Facebook post were many who echoed that sentiment — even while saying they did not share his appreciation for the Palestinian flag. (Elsewhere in Israel and online, Sinclair drew more scorn.)
“While I don’t agree with your choice of kippa, I do agree you have every right to wear it,” wrote one commenter. “This is awful and I’m sorry you experienced it. And I hate that this is where we are now, that someone could be detained for something like this.”
Gilad Kariv, a Reform rabbi and member of the opposition in Israel’s parliament, said in a statement that there was “systemic madness” within the Israel Police and that he believed a criminal investigation and civil lawsuit would be appropriate. He also called for introspection.
“If police officers had cut off a Jew’s kippah in any other country in the world, there would have been an uproar here in Israel,” Kariv wrote.
Sinclair said the kippah that was destroyed was not his first with the same design. After the wind blew away the first one, which he had custom-made by a popular Jerusalem vendor nearly 20 years ago, he ordered a replacement — that’s how motivated he was to wear his values on his head.
“I’m a Zionist, and I believe in the Jewish people’s right to self-determination in this part of their historic homeland. And I also think that the Palestinians are also people who have a right to self-determination in part of this place, which is also their historic homeland,” Sinclair said.
“By the ironies of history, the same chunk of land ended up being a place where two peoples have a legitimate connection, and we have to figure that out,” he continued. “People from both sides who want to delegitimize or erase the other side forget about whether they’re being nice or nasty; they’re just not being true to history.”
That was once a relatively widely held view among Israelis and Jews around the world. But decades of failed peace efforts, violent attacks on Israelis from Palestinian terrorists, and increasing extremism among both Jews and Arabs have caused a two-state solution to fall sharply out of favor during that period.
Sinclair says he sees himself as a peace activist, though he called the term “grandiose” and said, “I’ve got a lot of respect for people whose life is much more about the activism than mine.”
What he is, he says, is a Jew who loves Israel and is scared for its future. His next book, out this fall, will tackle what he believes is “a struggle for the soul of the Jewish people,” a topic on which he has suddenly become an unwilling case study.
On one side, he said, are far-right extremists, including Ben-Gvir, who “want a kind of Judaism and an Israel which doesn’t have a place for all kinds of things that feel very important to me,” including egalitarianism, Palestinians and left-leaning politics. (That side, he noted, is currently advancing legislation that would ban egalitarian prayer at the Western Wall.) On the other, he said, are those who promote an Israel that “is open and pluralist,” one in which people tolerate people who practice Judaism in ways they would not and hold values they do not.
“We’re in a struggle between these two versions of Judaism and versions of Zionism,” Sinclair said. “I very much hope that we’ll win the struggle. I think it’s not too late to win that struggle. … But it’s not a slam-dunk. And we, the Jewish people, are in real trouble if we lose.”
Sinclair believes his book could help turn that lofty vision into a how-to guide for Israeli liberals. But he also has more practical concerns, like where to get another kippah. He isn’t sure the vendor who made it before will be willing to do so again. And this time, it’s not just him but many of his friends who say they are interested in getting their hands on one.
“Some bright lefty entrepreneur,” he joked, “has got a big money-making opportunity there.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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DOJ’s indictment of Southern Poverty Law Center recalls Jewish groups’ use of informants to fight extremism
(JTA) — Jewish social justice organizations are sharply criticizing the Trump administration’s decision to indict the Southern Poverty Law Center, framing the move as part of a broader campaign against civil society groups that monitor extremism.
The Department of Justice alleges that SPLC engaged in bank and wire fraud and conspired to commit money laundering, arguing that its use of paid informants to monitor extremist groups amounted to a funding mechanism for those same groups. SPLC has not yet issued a detailed public response to the charges.
For many observers, the clash also echoes an earlier and lesser-known chapter in American Jewish history — one in which Jewish organizations themselves used covert methods, including paid informants, to track and expose white supremacist movements, often with little support from the federal government.
Coincidentally, the indictment came down nearly simultaneously with the publication of “The Secret War Against Hate: American Resistance to Antisemitism and White Supremacy,” by historian Steven J. Ross. The book, which is being released next week, documents how groups such as the Anti-Defamation League and the American Jewish Committee infiltrated neo-Nazi and Ku Klux Klan organizations in the decades before and after World War II, passing intelligence to law enforcement agencies that were often reluctant to act.
The historical parallel is not exact, but it is striking: Tactics once employed by Jewish groups to counter violent extremism are now at the center of a federal prosecution against one of the country’s most prominent civil rights watchdogs.
The Union for Reform Judaism said it was “watching with concern” the Department of Justice’s action, noting SPLC’s long record of combating hate, including antisemitism.
“SPLC is a long-time ally in the civil rights space and has a record of more than five decades of combating hate, including antisemitism,” the group said in a statement. “While no one is above the law, this DOJ has pursued multiple cases over the last 14 months whose political motivations have been questioned and even rejected by juries and judges. For this reason, we are concerned that this, too, is a case motivated by politics, rather than fact.”
Leaders at the Jewish Council for Public Affairs were more forceful, casting the indictment as a direct threat to organizations that track hate groups and protect vulnerable communities.
“Civil society is under attack as the administration weaponizes the federal government against those with whom they disagree, while normalizing extremism and gutting the very programs we have to counter it — and it puts Jewish and so many other communities at risk of violence,” said CEO Amy Spitalnick.
“As today’s attack on the Southern Poverty Law Center shows, groups that protect civil rights and counter violent extremism are being criminalized by this Administration,” she added. “None of us can afford to be silent.”
The liberal Jewish advocacy group Bend the Arc similarly argued that the indictment reflects an effort to undermine democratic institutions.
“Groups like the Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC) make this nation safer for American Jews and all Americans — which is why the Trump regime’s DOJ is targeting them,” the organization said. “Americans and American Jews will keep showing up to defend our democracy, from our elections to all of our liberties.”
Ross, whose parents were Holocaust survivors, describes a period in which antisemitism and white supremacist ideology were both widespread and frequently violent, with extremists targeting synagogues and Black churches and staging rallies adorned with Nazi imagery. Figures such as George Lincoln Rockwell, who founded the American Nazi Party in 1959, and Jesse Benjamin Stoner, the racist and antisemitic politician convicted in the 1958 bombing of the Bethel Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama, sought to build mass movements rooted in racial and religious exclusion.
At the same time, Jewish defense organizations quietly developed sophisticated intelligence operations, including the use of informants, to monitor those threats. Their efforts, Ross writes, were often met with indifference from officials such as J. Edgar Hoover, whose FBI frequently declined to take more than token action against extremist groups.
In his book, Ross argues that while movements and leaders evolve, the underlying ideas — including white supremacy and antisemitism — persist. Today, he notes, those ideologies are often expressed less through explicit antisemitism than through broader attacks on immigrants and demographic change.
Speaking to NPR’s Terry Gross on Thursday, Ross said he was skeptical about the indictment of the SPLC.
“I’m not sure if the indictment is true or not, but the idea that there are informants is not illegal,” he said. “These people are simply monitoring what was going on and whether accused of stealing records, their records were sent, I’m sure, to the government forces like the FBI, the Justice Department, because they weren’t doing their job.”
Ross also said that the groups he writes about in the book made it clear to informants and infiltrators that they couldn’t break any laws. “I’m sure the SPLC is doing the same thing because they know their informants would get in trouble otherwise, that they could be prosecuted by the government,” he said.
Another ADL operation came to light just a few years ago when political historian Matthew Dallek of George Washington University wrote a book detailing how the ADL’s covert operation targeting the John Birch Society helped bring down an influential far-right extremist movement in the United States in the 1960s and ’70s.
“The ADL also had undercover agents with code names, who were able to infiltrate the society’s headquarters in Belmont, Massachusetts, and various chapter officers,” Dallek told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in 2023. “They dug up financial and employment information about individual Birchers. And they not only used the material for their own newsletters and press releases, but they also fed information to the media.”
In the early 1990s, however, the West Coast branch of the ADL was accused in federal court of illegally spying on left-wing and pro-Arab groups, including the African National Congress, the American Indian Movement and the Association of Vietnam Veterans.
The ADL eventually settled a federal lawsuit, which charged, among other things, that the organization had sold information on anti-apartheid groups to the government of South Africa. The ADL consistently denied any improper or illegal actions, a position reiterated in the settlement.
Critics at the same accused the ADL of drifting from its founding mission — fighting antisemitism and promoting tolerance — to target legitimate criticism of Israel and advocacy of the Palestinian cause.
The Anti-Defamation League did not respond to a request for comment about the Department of Justice’s prosecution of the Southern Poverty Law Center.
But for Jewish groups now rallying to SPLC’s defense, the concern is not only about a single indictment but about the potential chilling effect on organizations that track and expose extremism — work they see as essential at a time of rising antisemitism.
“At a moment of rising antisemitism and broader extremism,” Spitalnick said, “the Administration should focus on how to protect our communities from these threats, not attack the very organizations and infrastructure whose work helps keep us safe in the first place.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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Inside Mamdani’s split decision on synagogue and school protests in NYC
New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani vetoed on Friday a City Council bill aimed at requiring safety plans around protests near schools, while allowing a separate measure protecting houses of worship to become law.
The split decision — his first veto since taking office more than 100 days ago — drew sharp backlash from a wide swath of Jewish organizations, reinforcing concerns about his handling of antisemitism in a city with the largest Jewish population in the United States and his alignment with the pro-Palestinian protest movement.
Here’s a step-by-step explainer of what happened, why it matters and what happens next.
What’s the difference between the two bills?
The City Council passed two companion bills last month aimed at curbing disruptive demonstrations outside synagogues and schools as part of a broader package to address rising antisemitism. One focused on houses of worship, requiring the New York City Police Department to develop a plan within 45 days for managing protests around the entrances. The proposal emerged following disruptive protests in recent months outside the Park East Synagogue in Manhattan and Young Israel of Kew Gardens Hills in Queens centered on events promoting immigration to and real estate in Israel.
The second bill focused on schools and educational institutions. It was broader in scope — including museums, libraries and teaching hospitals — and would have required more expansive planning for protests in those spaces. Progressive groups and labor unions opposed the schools bill, arguing it could impact their ability to organize and potentially limit pro-Palestinian demonstrations, particularly on campuses.
Why were there two bills?
The measures were largely similar in scope and raised comparable constitutional considerations around the rights to free exercise of religion and peaceable assembly. It was scaled back from an earlier buffer-zone proposal after objections from the mayor’s police commissioner and civil liberties groups about a one-size-fits-all rule.
The measures were split by Julie Menin, New York’s first Jewish speaker of the City Council, who was elected unanimously by the Council’s 51 members and seen by some as a counterweight to Mamdani on Jewish issues. She helped secure broader support for the synagogue-focused bill, aimed at addressing fears of intimidation for congregants entering houses of worship.
At the same time, the separation gave critics room to oppose the schools measure, which has drawn more sustained protest activity since Oct. 7, 2023 and raised sharper free speech concerns.
How did the City Council vote?
The houses of worship buffer zone bill, which was authored by Menin, passed with a 44–5 veto-proof majority in the 51-member chamber.
The schools bill, introduced by Councilmember Eric Dinowitz, passed by a narrower margin, 30-19, and could be vetoed by Mamdani.
What happened on Friday?
A day before the bills would automatically take effect, Mamdani vetoed the schools bill. At the same time, he allowed the houses of worship bill to take effect without his signature.
In a video statement, Mamdani said the distinction is legal and constitutional. He said that while he expressed reservations about the houses of worship measure, the final version of the bill was narrowed to avoid constitutional concerns and largely requires existing NYPD practices. The schools bill, he said, remained too broad and lacked a clear balance between the right to protest and other constitutional protections.
The measure could have applied to some public campuses, including City University of New York schools, depending on how policies were implemented. Private campuses — like Columbia University — would likely not be affected, since the NYPD is generally not authorized to operate on their property without coordination.
How did Jewish groups respond?
The backlash was swift and rather unified.
“This veto is a profound failure of City Hall to demonstrate to all New Yorkers that our safety is a priority,” a coalition of major Jewish organizations, including the Conference of Presidents and the Union for Reform Judaism, said in a sharp-worded statement. The New York Board of Rabbis, which has engaged with Mamdani since his election, also signed on to the statement.
Even the New York Jewish Agenda, a progressive Zionist group formed in 2020 to be a voice for liberal Jews in New York, said it was “disappointed” by Mamdani’s veto and his dismissal of a “good faith effort” to lower tensions. Mamdani attended NYJA’s Hanukkah celebration and said he associates himself with their mission of “bringing people together” on critical issues. Its most recent executive director is Phylisa Wisdom, now head of the mayor’s Office to Combat Antisemitism.
Rev. Al Sharpton, an ally of Mamdani, was also upset about the mayor’s veto of the schools bill, calling its implementation ”important” for the safety of all communities.
Mamdani’s progressive Jewish allies — Jews For Racial & Economic Justice and Bend the Arc — welcomed his veto, calling it a “victory for free speech and civil liberties in New York City.“
Why did Mamdani do it?
The move was an early signal of Mamdani’s governing style as he marks three months in office.
A strident critic of Israel who rose to power aligned with pro-Palestinian activism, Mamdani appears willing to take politically difficult positions in step with his base on the Israeli-Palestinian issue, even if it risks alienating mainstream Jewish institutions.
At the same time, he avoided a fight he was likely to lose — vetoing the synagogue bill only to have the Council override his veto — sidestepping a direct confrontation with the Jewish community, already uneasy over his responses to antisemitism and pro-Palestinian protests.
What happens next?
The City Council could attempt to override Mamdani’s veto of the schools bill, though it would need an additional four votes. Lawmakers could also revise the bill to address legal concerns and try to pass it again, but this time with a veto-proof majority.
Meanwhile, the NYPD is expected to move forward with drafting a plan for the houses-of-worship measure and present it within 45 days.
Longer term, this moment may shape Mamdani’s relationship with the Jewish community and test whether he can broaden his coalition in a city where concerns about his policies carry significant weight.
Last week, the city’s most senior Jewish elected officials — Menin, City Comptroller Mark Levine and Manhattan Borough President Brad Hoylman-Sigal urged Mamdani to do more to address the concerns of Jewish New Yorkers directly, including acknowledging the community’s deep emotional connection to Israel and reconsidering his pledge not to visit the country. Mamdani has given no indication that he plans to follow that advice.
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