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Two Jewish Moral Worlds: What the Mamdani Election Reveals
New York City mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani holds a press conference at the Unisphere in the Queens borough of New York City, US, Nov. 5, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Kylie Cooper
When a single election lays bare a community’s conscience, it deserves more than punditry.
The recent victory of Zohran Mamdani in New York’s Democratic primary was more than a political surprise. It was a sociological revelation — a moment that exposed the moral divide within American Jewry and the fragility of its civic cohesion.
The Times of Israel exit poll tells the story plainly: roughly 63 percent of Jewish voters supported Andrew Cuomo, while a third backed Mamdani, the far-left candidate known for his fierce criticism of Israel and his support for the BDS movement. But the aggregate numbers obscure something more profound. Beneath the data lies a moral geography that splits the community itself; between Brooklyn’s progressive brownstones and Manhattan’s traditional bastions, between younger universalists and older particularists, between two rival moral languages of what it means to be Jewish in America.
In the brownstone belts of Park Slope, Prospect Heights, and Clinton Hill, Mamdani dominated. His margins in some precincts approached 90 percent. These are neighborhoods filled with young professionals, educators, and creatives: Jews who are largely non-Orthodox, highly educated, and politically left-leaning.
They belong to a generation whose moral formation occurred as much on social media as in synagogue pews. Across the East River, in Borough Park, Crown Heights, and the Upper East Side, Cuomo’s support exceeded 80 percent. These precincts are wealthier, older, and denser, with day-school graduates, Federation donors, and Israel mission alumni. One city, two moral worlds.
Political psychology offers a framework for understanding this divergence.
Jonathan Haidt and Jesse Graham’s Moral Foundations Theory describes human moral reasoning as rooted in several intuitive “foundations.” The first pair — Care and Fairness — orient toward empathy, equality, and the mitigation of harm. The second set — Loyalty, Authority, and Sanctity — prioritize group solidarity, respect for tradition, and the protection of what is sacred.
Liberals, Haidt’s research found, tend to emphasize the individualizing foundations of care and fairness; conservatives draw upon all five, including those that bind the group together. These moral instincts operate beneath conscious ideology, shaping the stories people tell about justice, duty, and belonging.
Applied to Jewish life, this model illuminates the Mamdani divide. The younger, Park Slope cohort embodies the individualizing moral style. Their Judaism is ethical universalism — a faith of empathy, repair, and inclusion. To them, Jewish history teaches solidarity with the marginalized, not tribal defense. Their political commitments — tenant rights, climate action, anti-racism, and Palestinian solidarity — feel like moral extensions of their Jewish conscience.
Supporting Mamdani, in this light, is not an act of betrayal but an act of consistency. The Upper East Side cohort, by contrast, lives in the binding moral register. Their Judaism centers on loyalty to the Jewish people, reverence for institutions, and defense of Israel as a sacred trust. When a candidate denounces Israel as genocidal, they hear not critique but violation. The vote for Cuomo was not a calculation of interests; it was an affirmation of covenant.
Survey data confirm that these moral worlds align with generational and institutional divides. Pew Research Center’s 2024 survey found that only 45 percent of Jews under 35 hold a favorable view of Israel’s government, compared with 64 percent among those over 50.
Yet nearly 90 percent across all ages still view the Israeli people positively, suggesting alienation not from Israel itself but from its political expression.
Pew’s 2021 study showed that 58 percent of American Jews feel emotionally attached to Israel, though that attachment rises to 82 percent among the Orthodox and drops below 60 percent among Reform and unaffiliated Jews. Twenty-two percent now believe the United States is too supportive of Israel — twice the share in 2013 — and that sentiment is concentrated among younger and unaffiliated
Jews. Another 2024 survey by the Benenson Strategy Group found that nearly four in five American Jews still feel close to Israel, and 72 percent say Israel makes them proud to be Jewish, yet 62 percent admit they “sometimes find it hard to support actions taken by Israel or its government.” The picture that emerges is not rejection but tension: enduring identity, waning confidence, moral ambivalence.
This moral bifurcation has deep civic consequences. For much of the 20th century, American Jews reconciled universal and particular obligations through robust institutions. Federations linked philanthropy for the poor to support for Israel. Synagogues fused civic virtue with covenantal belonging. Community centers cultivated the habits of service, dialogue, and shared space.
Those integrative structures made it possible to balance empathy and loyalty within a single communal framework. But as institutional participation has declined, moral formation now occurs in fragmented spaces — online, on campuses, within activist networks — where individual conscience replaces institutional mediation. The result is that empathy and loyalty, once twin pillars of Jewish civic life, now compete rather than complement.
When moral authority fragments, politics becomes identity by proxy. The universalist moral vocabulary of younger Jews often renders Jewish power suspect; the particularist vocabulary of their elders renders dissent heretical. The two sides no longer disagree over policy; they inhabit different moral cosmologies. That is why the Mamdani election felt seismic to the Jewish community and New York City more generally. It revealed, not created, the split between what might be called the “individualizing Jew” and the “binding Jew” — one who sees Judaism as a moral compass for humanity, the other who sees it as the covenantal anchor of a people.
The consequences are not merely internal. A cohesive Jewish community has long served as a vital civic intermediary, connecting minority experience to national ideals. Fragmentation weakens that role. When a third of Jewish voters champion a candidate who accuses Israel of genocide and two-thirds recoil in outrage, institutional consensus becomes nearly impossible. Jewish organizations struggle to articulate shared positions on campus speech, antisemitism, or Israel policy because the moral foundations beneath those debates differ.
The binding moral language of loyalty and sanctity, once the lingua franca of Jewish life, now strikes many younger Jews as exclusionary or even coercive. Yet without it, solidarity itself erodes.
This tension certainly mirrors the broader democratic malaise. Across the West, younger generations are shifting from binding to individualizing moral frameworks — from “who we are” to “whom we protect.” That shift, born of compassion, often dissolves the collective bonds that sustain civic trust. The Jewish community’s fracture is thus a microcosm of the American one. If one of the nation’s most institutionally successful minorities cannot sustain moral coherence across generations, the prospects for the larger democracy are sobering.
Still, Jewish tradition offers a path forward. The Hebrew Bible itself balances competing moral imperatives: love the stranger (Care), pursue justice (Fairness), remember you were slaves in Egypt (Loyalty), honor your parents (Authority), and be holy (Sanctity). The moral genius of Judaism has always been its capacity to integrate rather than choose. A renewed Jewish civic life would recover that synthesis — not by diluting conviction, but by translating between moral dialects.
Doing so requires moral bilingualism. Jewish leaders must learn to speak both the language of empathy and the language of obligation. They must show younger Jews that loyalty need not mean blind allegiance, and show older Jews that care need not mean disavowal. Institutions that can bridge those vocabularies — pairing service projects with Jewish learning, coupling justice work with covenantal memory — will thrive. Those that cannot will wither into echo chambers. The task is to rebuild spaces where the moral foundations overlap, where the passion for fairness coexists with respect for continuity, and where dissent strengthens rather than fractures community.
The Mamdani election dramatized the challenge. It showed that American Jews are not divided between left and right so much as between two moral imaginations.
The future of American Jewish life — and perhaps something of American civic life itself — depends on reuniting those halves. The task is not to pick sides between the moral foundations, but to recover their harmony. That would mean re-embedding compassion within community and rooting loyalty in moral reflection. It would mean building institutions capable of moral translation rather than moral policing. It would mean acknowledging that Jewish flourishing and democratic stability alike require both conscience and covenant.
The Mamdani election did not create this divide, it exposed it. The challenge now is whether American Jews can build a third moral script, one that joins care to continuity, justice to responsibility, empathy to endurance. That work begins by recognizing that not all differences are merely moral styles. Mamdani’s campaign trafficked in ideas that crossed into antisemitism — denying Jewish self-determination, vilifying Israel as inherently criminal, and normalizing hostility toward Jewish identity itself.
A community committed to moral dialogue cannot ignore such realities; tolerance cannot mean the abdication of judgment. Yet if Jews can still hold fast to both conscience and covenant — defending themselves without surrendering compassion, seeking justice without erasing solidarity — they can model for the nation how moral diversity becomes democratic strength. Democracy, like Judaism, survives not on unanimity but on the hard, often uncomfortable work of moral conversation and that work begins with the courage to confront hatred without forfeiting humanity.
Samuel J. Abrams is a professor of politics at Sarah Lawrence College and a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute.
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A Yiddish circus in a suitcase
Imagine aerial acrobatics accompanied by a dreamy melody on fiddle and cimbalom. A juggler maneuvering seven bouncing balls at once to the beat of a klezmer band. A saxophonist charming a suspiciously human-looking snake with a terkisher (a type of klezmer dance) — and all this interwoven with Yiddish songs and poetic stories of distant hometowns and faded Jewish circus traditions. Above all, suitcases, serving as seats, drums, and, of course, containers for circus equipment.
This is just a glimpse of the show “Tshemodan,” performed by what may be Germany’s first Yiddish circus company, Tsirk Dobranotch. The word tshemodan, Yiddish for “suitcase,” is the company’s second production. The ensemble consists of the klezmer band Dobranotch, joined by circus artists Sam Gurwitt and Eliana Pliskin Jacobs.
Jacobs, an aerialist and singer, has been dreaming of creating a klezmer circus ever since she entered the Yiddish scene in Berlin and other cities in Germany around 2018. In 2022, she met Sam Gurwitt, and they soon realized that they shared not only a background as circus artists but also a connection to the Yiddish and klezmer world: Gurwitt is trained both as a clown and as a klezmer fiddler. Creating a klezmer circus together was the obvious next step.
A few months later, Jacobs, a longtime fan of the band Dobranotch, pitched the idea to its members who have long been known for including comedy and stunts in their musical performances. “We like to do entertainment and eccentric, funny things, and with the circus company we tried to put it on another level,” said Mitia Khramtsov, the band’s fiddle player.
Tsirk Dobranotch’s first show, “Das Fliegende Balagan,” (Yiddishized German for “flying bedlam”) premiered in Dresden in 2023. For their second production, the group decided to incorporate a more coherent “thematic glue,” as Gurwitt calls it, focusing on the theme of migration as reflected in the title “Tshemodan” and to use the suitcase as a recurring element.
Migration — whether voluntary, pressured, or forced – is an experience that runs through all the ensemble members’ family histories or personal biographies. Jacobs and Gurwitt both grew up in the United States as grandchildren of German and Eastern European Holocaust survivors and moved to Germany in their twenties. Dobranotch members Mitia Khramtsov, Germina Gordienko, Ilya Gindin, and Evgenii Lizin are from St. Petersburg and fled to Germany after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022. They were joined by Paul Milmeister, who was born in Ukraine and migrated to Germany as a teenager. Some of the Tshemodan shows feature Bertan Canbeldek, an acrobat who was born in Germany to Turkish parents, as a guest artist.
Aside form the overall theme of migration and wandering, the company’s mission is to recall the almost forgotten history of Jewish circuses in pre-Holocaust Europe. In one of Jacobs’s solo acts, she tells the story of Jewish families, among them the Blumenfeld, Lorch, and Straßburger families, who had been running circuses in German-speaking Europe since the 17th century. She then asks herself whether her German-Jewish grandmother might have seen one of the pre-war Jewish circuses.
Comparing herself to “a ghost connecting the living with the dead, the past with the present,” Jacobs swings on a trapeze in a pensive, elegant aerial performance to the delicate sound of a slow hora played by Khramtsov and Gordienko.
Tsirk Dobranotch is aware, however, that these German and Western European Jewish circuses were historically not closely related to Eastern European Yiddish culture or klezmer music. This incongruence makes it difficult to justify why klezmer and circus would go together, Gurwitt admitted. On the other hand, as Jacobs pointed out, “the theme of wandering works well with both circus and klezmer.”
In fact, there is evidence that the klezmer musicians who played at weddings in different shtetls may have been accompanied by jugglers and acrobats. In fact, Khramtsov said, the old tradition of badkhonim (wedding jesters), certainly had historical connections to medieval Jewish jesters known as leytsonim.
While these links between Yiddish culture and the circus world did exist, Jewish culture and religion didn’t play much of a role in the Jewish circuses traveling throughout the German-speaking regions. As Jacobs put it: “They were normal circus performers who happened to be Jewish.”
According to Jacobs and Gurwitt, Jews joining and running important German circuses was evidence of their assimilation into the broader society, even though it eventually failed. Under the Nazi regime, Jewish circus artists were boycotted and persecuted; forced into hiding or exile, and many were eventually murdered.
But there was one circus performer that did not try to hide his Jewish identity. That was Siegmund “Zishe” Breitbart, also called the Iron King and allegedly the “strongest man on Earth.” Born in 1897 and raised in the Yiddish-speaking community of Lodz (at that time part of the Russian Empire), Breitbart overtly expressed his Jewishness on stage. Many of his advertisements and costumes, and even the chariot on which he entered the arena, were adorned with Magen David decorations.
In “Tshemodan,” Gurwitt brings Breitbart’s heroic figure to life by wittily constructing an entire mime act around a muscleman displaying his physical strength. Accompanied by a klezmer march, using only a kitchen towel as a prop, he keeps the audience in laughter and suspense, throwing an imaginary elephant up in the air.
As Tsirk Dobranotch celebrates its third year, it’s clear that audiences have come to love the show, as seen by their cheers and standing ovations. Many audience members even join in the dance leading the troupe offstage after the show.
As the company plans a new show for 2026, their fans can only guess what they’ll continue to unpack from their suitcases.
The post A Yiddish circus in a suitcase appeared first on The Forward.
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Turkey Said to Be Mobilizing Troops for Gaza ‘Peacekeeping,’ Sparking Tensions With Israel
Turkish President Tayyip Erdogan attends a press conference with German Chancellor Friedrich Merz at the Presidential Palace in Ankara, Turkey, Oct. 30, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Umit Bektas
Turkey is reportedly advancing plans to send thousands of soldiers to the Gaza Strip as part of an international peacekeeping force, pushing forward despite US hesitation and Israeli resistance, as Ankara seeks to secure a role in the enclave’s post-war future.
The Turkish government has mobilized more than 2,000 troops from across the country for a potential deployment in Gaza as part of the US-backed peace plan alongside other participating countries, the Middle East Eye news outlet and Turkish media reported.
Last week, Washington sent a draft resolution to members of the United Nations Security Council, proposing the creation of an International Stabilization Force (ISF) in Gaza that would remain for at least two years.
Under US President Donald Trump’s peace plan, such a force will oversee the Gaza ceasefire between Israel and the Palestinian terrorist group Hamas and train local security forces.
Based on the proposed draft resolution, the ISF would include troops from multiple participating countries and would be responsible for securing Gaza’s borders with Israel and Egypt, while also protecting civilians and maintaining humanitarian corridors.
In addition, the ISF would seemingly be expected to take on the responsibility of disarming Hamas — a key component of Trump’s peace plan to end the war in Gaza, which the Palestinian terror group has repeatedly rejected.
In recent weeks, Washington has been working closely with regional powers to determine the composition of the peacekeeping force, with Turkey seeking to play a central role in the enclave.
However, Israel has consistently opposed any involvement of Turkish security forces in post-war Gaza.
On Sunday, the Israeli government reiterated that Turkish troops would not be allowed to enter the war-torn enclave.
“There will be no Turkish boots on the ground,” Shosh Bedrosian, a spokesperson for the Israeli Prime Minister’s Office, said during a press conference.
As Turkey moves to secure a role in Gaza’s post-war reconstruction efforts, experts have warned that Ankara, as a key backer of Hamas, could shield the Islamist group or even strengthen its terrorist infrastructure.
In the past, Turkey has provided refuge to Hamas leaders, granted diplomatic access, and allowed the group to fundraise, recruit, and plan attacks from Turkish territory.
US officials have confirmed that any participating countries in the international task force will be selected in close coordination with Israel, ensuring that no foreign troops will be included without Israel’s consent.
During the two-year Gaza conflict, relations between Turkey and Israel deteriorated rapidly, with Ankara adopting an openly hostile stance, seeking to undermine the Jewish state internationally.
Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan has repeatedly praised Hamas while falsely accusing Israel of committing genocide.
This week, the Turkish government issued arrest warrants for 37 Israeli officials, including Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, accusing them of “genocide” in Gaza.
Israeli leaders have strongly rejected such accusations, emphasizing that the Jewish state has been targeting terrorists who use civilians as human shields in its military operations.
Israeli Foreign Minister Gideon Saar condemned Turkey’s latest move, describing the warrants as “the latest PR stunt by the tyrant Erdogan.”
Israeli Defense Minister Israel Katz also denounced such accusations, calling them “ridiculous.”
“Take those ridiculous arrest warrants and get the hell out of here,” the Israeli official said in a post on X. “They’re more fitting for the massacres you’ve committed against the Kurds. Israel is strong and unafraid. You’ll only be able to see Gaza through binoculars.”
.@RTErdogan, şu gülünç tutuklama emirlerini al ve buradan defol. Onlar, Kürtlere yaptığın katliama daha uygun. İsrail güçlü ve korkmuyor. Gazze’yi sadece dürbünle görebileceksin. pic.twitter.com/dWhU0IVym4
— ישראל כ”ץ Israel Katz (@Israel_katz) November 9, 2025
Meanwhile, Turkey reportedly tried to secure a side deal to allow 200 Hamas terrorists trapped in the tunnels of the southern Gaza city of Rafah to escape, allegedly using the body of Israeli Lieutenant Hadar Goldin — who was killed during Operation Protective Edge in 2014 — as leverage. However, Hamas returned Goldin’s body on Sunday, marking the latest deceased hostage to be released to Israel as part of the US-brokered ceasefire.
Hamas has reportedly demanded that the 200 terrorists be released into the part of Gaza it still controls, rather than into Israeli-held territory.
Under the first phase of Trump’s plan, Israel withdrew to a boundary dubbed the “yellow line,” still controlling 53 percent of the enclave’s territory. Within the other 47 percent, where the vast majority of Gaza’s population is located, Hamas has launched a brutal crackdown to impose full control.
However, the Israeli government announced Monday that any decision concerning the 200 terrorists would be made in coordination with the Trump administration.
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‘Gas the Jews’: UK Doctor Who ‘Satirically’ Wrote Antisemitic Online Posts Allowed to Continue Practicing
Dr Martin Whyte, a former executive member of the British Medical Association. Photo: Screenshot
A British doctor who posted “gas the Jews” and other antisemitic comments on social media will still be able to see patients after the United Kingdom’s top medical regulatory body found that he did not possess bigoted beliefs and that his conduct “falls just short of that which would be considered serious enough to pose a risk to public protection.”
The outcome will likely further fuel widespread concerns over a wave of recent allegations of antisemitism in the UK health-care system that has left Jewish patients fearing for their wellbeing.
Two tweets in particular written by Dr. Martin Whyte, a pediatrician and former executive member of the British Medical Association (BMA), were brought to the attention of the General Medical Council (GMC).
On April 18, 2018, Whyte posted, “Me: It’s important to represent Judaism and Jewish people fairly and respectfully in art. Also me: Jew banker goblins.” Then, on Oct. 27, 2018, he posted, “Hahaha zeig heil hahaha gas the jews hahaha just kidding but have you seen these youtube videos about the holohoax, they’re pretty convincing imo…[sic].”
The latter posting came on the same day as the mass murder of 11 Jews at the Tree of Life – Or L’Simcha Congregation in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, a crime for which Robert Bowers now sits convicted and awaiting execution.
Whyte explained his actions to the GMC, claiming that the remarks were intended satirically and in response to “a prominent figure on the political far right” who “was well-known at the time for having made a widely circulated YouTube video in which he claimed to have trained a dog to respond with ‘a Nazi salute’ in response to the words ‘Zeig Heil’ and ‘gas the Jews.’”
Whyte stated that it was “possible that a reader without any knowledge of [his] personal views might misunderstand the meaning of what [he] had written.”
The investigatory committee assessed that Whyte “is a doctor in good standing and the committee have seen multiple positive references from professional colleagues and the extensive evidence of his reflection in relation to the allegations. It recognizes that the tweets reported in the press represent a tiny proportion of his online activity and that they were posted seven years ago. In the light of this, and the personal and professional impact upon him of the media attention and the subsequent investigation, the committee regards repetition to be unlikely.”
A spokesperson for the GMC explained that “we carried out a full and thorough investigation into Dr. Martin Whyte’s social media posts. After hearing the evidence, an investigation committee found his posts were grossly offensive. They decided a formal warning was necessary to uphold confidence in the profession, which will appear on the doctor’s online record for two years and must be disclosed to any potential new employers. A warning is formal, significant disciplinary action on a doctor’s registration.”
The Campaign Against Antisemitism (CAA), a British charity, had initially submitted the complaint about Whyte’s tweets and responded to the GMC’s decision.
“Every week there is some new outrage from the medical regulatory system,” CAA posted on X. “Is there any level of racism against Jewish people that the GMC would consider worthy of actual disciplinary action? If so, we have yet to see it. Antisemitism is at record highs in our society, and regulators are totally asleep at the wheel. Another spectacular failure by the medical regulator.”
In October, British Prime Minister Keir Starmer unveiled a new plan to address what he described as “just too many examples, clear examples, of antisemitism that have not been dealt with adequately or effectively” in the country’s National Health Service (NHS).
One notable case drawing attention involved Dr. Rahmeh Aladwan, a trainee trauma and orthopedic surgeon, who police arrested on Oct. 21, charging her with four offenses related to malicious communications and inciting racial hatred.
Aladwan’s arrest followed the GMC clearing her to continue treating patients. She had made antisemitic social media claims such as labeling the Royal Free Hospital in London “a Jewish supremacy cesspit” and asserting that “over 90% of the world’s Jews are genocidal.”
Aladwan wrote on April 29 that “I will never condemn the 7th of October,” referring to the Palestinian terrorist group Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, massacre across southern Israel, the deadliest day for Jews since the Holocaust.
“I fail to see how medics using such language with impunity doesn’t undermine confidence in the medical profession. I have no confidence in our regulation system,” Wes Streeting, the UK secretary of state for health and social care, wrote in response to Aladwan’s remarks.
The Algemeiner has reported regularly on the surge of reports of antisemitism in UK medical settings.