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How Jewish comedy found religion, from Philip Roth to ‘Broad City’
(JTA) — In the 2020 comedy “Shiva Baby,” a 20-something young woman shows up at a house of Jewish mourners and gently offers her condolences. When she finds her mother in the kitchen, they chat about the funeral and the rugelach before the daughter asks, “Mom, who died?”
While “Shiva Baby” explores themes of sexuality and gender, the comedy almost never comes at the expense of Jewish tradition, which is treated seriously by its millennial writer and director Emma Seligman (born in 1995) even as the shiva-goers collide. It’s far cry from the acerbic way an author raised during the Depression like Philip Roth lampooned a Jewish wedding or a baby boomer like Jerry Seinfeld mocked a bris.
These generational differences are explored in Jenny Caplan’s new book, “Funny, You Don’t Look Funny: Judaism and Humor from the Silent Generation to Millennials.” A religion scholar, Caplan writes about the way North American Jewish comedy has evolved since World War II, with a focus on how humorists treat Judaism as a religion. Her subjects range from writers and filmmakers who came of age shortly after the war (who viewed Judaism as “a joke at best and an actual danger at worst”) to Generation X and millennials, whose Jewish comedy often recognizes “the power of community, the value of family tradition, and the way that religion can serve as a port in an emotional storm.”
“I see great value in zeroing in on the ways in which Jewish humorists have engaged Jewish practices and their own Jewishness,” Caplan writes. “It tells us something (or perhaps it tells us many somethings) about the relationship between Jews and humor that goes deeper than the mere coincidence that a certain humorist was born into a certain family.”
Caplan is the chair in Judaic Studies at the University of Cincinnati. She has a master’s of theological studies degree from Harvard Divinity School and earned a Ph.D. in religion from Syracuse University.
In a conversation last week, we spoke about the Jewishness of Jerry Seinfeld, efforts by young women comics to reclaim the “Jewish American Princess” label, and why she no longer shows Woody Allen movies in her classrooms.
Our conversation was edited for length and clarity
[Note: For the purpose of her book and our conversation, this is how Caplan isolates the generations: the Silent Generation (b. 1925-45), the baby boom (1946-65), Generation X (1966-79) and millennials (1980–95).]
Jewish Telegraphic Agency: Let me ask how you got into this topic.
Jenny Caplan: I grew up in a family where I was just sort of surrounded by this kind of material. My dad is a comedic actor and director who went to [Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey’s] Clown College. My degrees were more broadly in American religion, not Jewish studies, but I was really interested in the combination of American religion and popular culture. When I got to Syracuse and it came time to start thinking about my larger project and what I wanted to do, I proposed a dissertation on Jewish humor.
The key to your book is how Jewish humor reflects the Jewish identity and compulsions of four sequential generations. Let’s start with the Silent Generation, which is sandwiched between the generation whose men were old enough to fight in World War II and the baby boomers who were born just after the war.
The hallmark of the Silent Generation is that they were old enough to be aware of the war, but they were mostly too young to serve. Every time I told people what I was writing about, they would say Woody Allen or Philip Roth, two people of roughly the same generation.
In “Funny, You Don’t Look Funny: Judaism and Humor from the Silent Generation to Millennials,” Jenny Caplan explores how comics treated religion from the end of World War II to the 21st century. (Courtesy)
The Roth story you focus on is “Eli, the Fanatic” from 1959, about an assimilated Jewish suburb that is embarrassed and sort of freaks out when an Orthodox yeshiva, led by a Holocaust survivor, sets up in town.
Roth spent the first 20 to 30 years of his career dodging the claim of being a self-loathing Jew and bad for the Jews. But the actual social critique of “Eli, the Fanatic” is so sharp. It is about how American Jewish comfort comes at the expense of displaced persons from World War II and at the expense of those for whom Judaism is a real thriving, living religious practice.
That’s an example you offer when you write that the Silent Generation “may have found organized religion to be a dangerous force, but they nevertheless wanted to protect and preserve the Jewish people.” I think that would surprise people in regards to Roth, and maybe to some degree Woody Allen.
Yeah, it surprised me. They really did, I think, share that postwar Jewish sense of insecurity about ongoing Jewish continuity, and that there’s still an existential threat to the ongoing existence of Jews.
I hear that and I think of Woody Allen’s characters, atheists who are often on the lookout for antisemitism. But you don’t focus on Allen as the intellectual nebbish of the movies. You look at his satire of Jewish texts, like his very funny “Hassidic Tales, With a Guide to Their Interpretation by the Noted Scholar” from 1970, which appeared in The New Yorker. It’s a parody of Martin Buber’s “Tales of the Hasidim” and sentimental depictions of the shtetl, perhaps like “Fiddler on the Roof.” A reader might think he’s just mocking the tradition, but you think there’s something else going on.
He’s not mocking the tradition as much as he’s mocking a sort of consumerist approach to the tradition. There was this sort of very superficial attachment to Buber’s “Tales of the Hasidim.” Allen’s satire is not a critique of the traditions of Judaism, it’s a critique of the way that people latch onto things like the Kabbalah and these new English translations of Hasidic stories without any real depth of thought or intellect. Intellectual hypocrisy seems to be a common theme in his movies and in his writing. It’s really a critique of organized religion, and it’s a critique of institutions, and it’s a critique of the power of institutions. But it’s not a critique of the concept of religion.
The idea of making fun of the wise men and their gullible followers reminds me of the folk tales of Chelm, which feature rabbis and other Jewish leaders who use Jewish logic to come to illogical conclusions.
Yes.
You write that the baby boomers are sort of a transition between the Silent Generation and a later generation: They were the teenagers of the counterculture, and warned about the dangers of empty religion, but also came to consider religion and tradition as valuable. But before you get there, you have a 1977 “Saturday Night Live” skit in which a bris is performed in the back seat of a luxury car, and the rabbi who performs it is portrayed as what you call an absolute sellout.
Exactly. You know: Institutional religion is empty and it’s hollow, it’s dangerous and it’s seductive.
Jerry Seinfeld, born in 1954, is seen as an icon of Jewish humor, but to me is an example of someone who never depicts religion as a positive thing. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)
“Seinfeld” is more a show about New York than it is necessarily a show about anything Jewish. The New York of Seinfeld is very similar to the New York of Woody Allen, peopled almost entirely by white, middle-class, attractive folks. It’s a sort of Upper West Side myopia.
But there’s the bris episode, aired in 1993, and written by Larry Charles. Unless you are really interested in the medium, you may not know much about Larry Charles, because he stays behind the camera. But he also goes on to do things like direct Bill Maher’s anti-religion documentary “Religulous,” and there’s a real strong case for him as having very negative feelings about organized religion which feels like a holdover from the Silent Generation. And so in that episode you have Kramer as the Larry Charles stand-in, just opining about the barbaric nature of the circumcision and trying to save this poor baby from being mutilated.
The few references to actual Judaism in “Seinfeld” are squirmy. I am thinking of the 1995 episode in which a buffoon of a rabbi blurts out Elaine’s secrets on a TV show. That was written by Larry David, another boomer, whose follow-up series, “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” is similarly known for its irreverence toward Judaism. But you say David can also surprise you with a kind of empathy for religion.
For the most part, he’s classic, old school, anti-organized religion. There’s the Palestinian Chicken episode where the Jews are rabidly protesting the existence of a Palestinian-run chicken restaurant near a Jewish deli, and where his friend Funkhouser won’t play golf on Shabbos until Larry gets permission by bribing the rabbi with the Palestinian chicken. There, rabbis are ridiculous and can be bought and religion is hollow and this is all terrible.
But then there’s this bat mitzvah montage where for one moment in the entire run of this show, Larry seems happy and in a healthy relationship and fulfilled and enjoying life.
That’s where he falls in love with Loretta Black during a bat mitzvah and imagines a happy future with her.
It’s so startling: It is the most human we ever see Larry over the run of the show, and I believe that was the season finale for the 2007 season. It was much more in line with what we’ve been seeing from a lot of younger comedians at that point, which was religion as an anchor in a good way — not to pull you down but to keep you grounded.
So for Generation X, as you write, Judaism serves “real, emotional, or psychological purpose for the practitioners.”
I wouldn’t actually call it respect but religion is an idea that’s not just something to be mocked and relegated to the dustbin. I’m not saying that Generation X is necessarily more religious, but they see real power and value in tradition and in certain kinds of family experiences. So, a huge amount of the humor can still come at the expense of your Jewish mother or your Jewish grandmother, but the family can also be the thing that is keeping you grounded, and frequently through some sort of religious ritual.
Who exemplifies that?
My favorite example is the 2009 Jonathan Tropper novel, “This Is Where I Leave You.” I’m so disappointed that the film adaptation of that sucked a lot of the Jewish identity out of the story, so let’s stick with the novel. In that book, where a family gathers for their father’s shiva, the characters are horrible people in a dysfunctional family writ large. They lie to each other. They backstab each other. But in scene where the protagonist Judd describes standing up on the bimah [in synagogue] to say Kaddish [the Mourner’s Prayer] after the death of his father, and the way he talks about this emotional catharsis that comes from saying the words and hearing the congregation say the words — it’s a startling moment of clarity in a book where these characters are otherwise just truly reprehensible.
Adam Sandler was born in 1966, the first year of Generation X, and his “Chanukah Song” seems like such a touchstone for his generation and the ones that follow. It’s not about religious Judaism, but in listing Jewish celebrities, it’s a statement of ethnic pride that Roth or Woody Allen couldn’t imagine.
It’s the reclamation of Jewish identity as something great and cool and fun and hip and wonderful and absolutely not to be ashamed of.
From left, Ilana Glazer, Abbi Jacobson and Seth Green in an episode of “Broad City” parodying Birthright Israel. (Screenshot from Comedy Central)
Which brings us to “Broad City,” which aired between 2014 and 2019. It’s about two 20-something Jewish women in New York who, in the case of Ilana Glazer’s character, anyway, are almost giddy about being Jewish and embrace it just as they embrace their sexuality: as just liberating. Ilana even upends the Jewish mother cliche by loving her mother to death.
That’s the episode with Ilana at her grandmother’s shiva, which also has the B plot where Ilana and her mother are shopping for underground illegal handbags. They spend most of the episode snarking at each other and fighting with each other and her mother’s a nag and Ilana is a bumbling idiot. But at the moment that the cops show up, and try to nab them for having all of these illegal knockoff handbags, the two of them are a team. They are an absolute unit of destructive force against these hapless police officers.
I think all of your examples of younger comics are women, who have always had fraught relationships with Jewish humor, both as practitioners and as the target of jokes. You write about “The JAP Battle” rap from “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend,” which both leans into the stereotype of the Jewish-American Princess — spoiled, acquisitive, “hard as nails” — and tries to reclaim it without the misogyny.
Rachel Bloom’s character Rebecca in “Girlfriend” self-identifies as a JAP, but she doesn’t actually fit the category. It’s her mother, Naomi, who truly is the Philip Roth, “Marjorie Morningstar,” Herman Wouk model of a JAP. So Bloom is kind of using the term, but you can’t repurpose the term when the original is still there.
So as an alternative, I offer up a new term: the Modern Ashkenazi American Woman. It’s very New York, it’s very East Coast, it’s very particular to a type of upbringing and community that in the 1950s and ’60s would have been almost exclusively Conservative Jews, and then may have become a bit more Reform as we’ve gotten into the ’90s and 2000s. They went to the JCC. They probably went to Jewish summer camp.
But even that doesn’t even really speak to the American sense of what Jewish is anymore, because American Jews have become increasingly racially and culturally diverse.
There is also something that’s happening historically with Generation X, and that’s the distance from the two major Jewish events of the 20th century, which is the Holocaust and the creation of Israel.
The Silent Generation and baby boomers still had a lingering sense of existential dread — the sense that we’re not so far removed from an attempted total annihilation of Jews. Gen X and millennials are so far removed from the Holocaust that they don’t feel that same fear.
But the real battleground we’re seeing in contemporary American Judaism is about the relationship to Israel. For baby boomers and even for some older members of Gen X, there’s still a sense that you can criticize Israel, but at the end of the day, it’s your duty to ultimately support Israel’s right to exist. And I think millennials and Zoomers [Gen Z] are much more comfortable with the idea of Israel being illegitimate.
Have you seen that in comedy?
I certainly think you can see the leading edge of that in some millennial stuff. The “Jews on a Plane” episode of “Broad City” is an absolute excoriation of Birthright Israel, and does not seem particularly interested in softening its punches about the whole idea of Jews going to Israel. I think we can see a trend in that direction, where younger American Jewish comedians do not see that as punching down.
You’re teaching a class on Jewish humor. What do your undergraduates find funny? Now that Woody Allen is better known for having married his adoptive daughter and for the molestation allegations brought by another adoptive daughter, do they look at his classic films and ask, “Why are you teaching us this guy?”
For the first time I’m not including Woody Allen. I had shown “Crimes and Misdemeanors” for years because I think it’s his most theological film. I think it’s a great film. And then a couple years ago, I backed off, because some students were responding that it was hard to look at him with all the baggage. He’s still coming up in conversation because you can’t really talk about the people who came after him without talking about him, but for the first time I’m not having them actually watch or read any of his stuff.
They have found things funny that I didn’t expect them to, and they have not found things funny that I would have thought they would. They laughed their way through “Yidl mitn fidl,” the 1936 Yiddish musical starring Molly Picon. I also thought they’d enjoy the Marx Brothers’ “Duck Soup” and they did not laugh once. Some of that is the fact that Groucho’s delivery is just so fast.
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Ted Cruz to Jewish Republicans: Antisemitism is ‘an existential crisis in our party’
LAS VEGAS — Ted Cruz warned of rising antisemitism on the right — and a lack of Republican voices calling it out — as he kicked off the Republican Jewish Coalition’s annual summit Thursday night.
The speech reiterated comments he made at a San Antonio megachurch last week, including the core message that he’s recently seen more right-wing antisemitism than ever before.
“In the last six months, I’ve seen more antisemitism on the right than I had in my entire life,” Cruz said.
“This is a poison,” he continued. “And I believe we are facing an existential crisis in our party and our country.”
The RJC’s annual gathering, being held this weekend at the Venetian Resort Las Vegas, comes as a growing number of conservatives are turning against Israel, while right-wing voices who are spreading antisemitic conspiracies are finding mainstream audiences.
Cruz, a longtime supporter of Israel, presented the moment of division on the right as “a time for choosing.”
“And as for me, I choose to stand with you,” Cruz said to the room of about 100 Jewish Republican donors. “I choose to stand with Israel, and I choose to stand with America.”
As at the megachurch, Cruz, who is Christian, did not name names in his criticism of the “anti-Israel right.” But on Thursday he hinted strongly that he was speaking about Tucker Carlson, the former Fox News personality who recently hosted a friendly conversation with the white nationalist livestreamer Nick Fuentes. Carlson said during the interview that GOP supporters of Israel — including Cruz — are infected by a “brain virus.”
“If you sit there and nod adoringly while someone tells you that Winston Churchill was the villain of World War II, if you sit there and nod while someone says, ‘There’s a very good argument America should’ve intervened on behalf of Nazi Germany in World War II,’ if you sit there with someone who says ‘Adolf Hitler was very, very cool,’ and that their mission is to combat and defeat global Jewry, and you say nothing?” Cruz said. “Then you are a coward and you are complicit in that evil.”
His comments came just hours after Kevin Roberts, the president of leading conservative think tank the Heritage Foundation, answered mounting questions about whether he would continue to associate with Carlson after the Fuentes interview — with a resounding defense of Carlson.
RJC CEO Matt Brooks told Jewish Insider that, after working with Heritage over the years, there would be “a reassessment of our relationship with Heritage in light of this.”
Cruz called out the silence of Republican elected officials who’ve not spoken out against increasing right-wing antisemitism.
“I have to say, too many people are scared to confront them,” he said, referring to the “grotesque bigots” who do not plainly see Hitler as “the embodiment of evil.”
“How many elected Republicans do you see standing up and calling this out?” Cruz said. “How many do you see willing to take on the voices on the anti-Israel right?”
One name invoked by Cruz in a positive light was President Donald Trump, whom the Texas senator called “the most pro-Israel president in the history of the United States,” to loud applause.
Cruz affirmed to the RJC’s membership that with Trump in the White House, their interest in assisting Israel in its conflicts would be upheld, and kept away from the skepticism of a growing isolationist faction that would rather the United States not get involved.
(Trump has not publicly weighed in on Carlson hosting Fuentes; Trump once dined with Fuentes and rapper Ye between presidential terms in 2022, later saying that he had not known who Fuentes was.)
But Cruz then pointed to the post-Trump future as a fork in the road moment for the Republican Party.
“When Trump is not in the White House, what then?” Cruz said.
One man called out, “Ted Cruz!”
One potential candidate for Republican leadership in 2028 was not named in Cruz’s speech: JD Vance.
Cruz lauded Trump’s efforts in taking on Hamas and cracking down on campus protests, but did not name Vance as a friend of Jewish Americans.
Vance faced criticism this week after failing to push back on skeptical questions about Israel, including one laced with an antisemitic conspiracy theory, at a Turning Point USA event at Ole Miss. Vance also downplayed the messages sent in the recent Young Republicans leak, saying the text messages sent by early-career GOP activists — which included jokes about gas chambers, racist slurs and praise of Hitler — were simply immature “jokes” and that critics should “grow up.”
Cruz emphasized the need to “engage in college campuses” and “engage in the facts” in order to overcome the “handful of voices that are spreading this garbage,” whom he said were “giving every one of us a time for choosing.”
He thanked the crowd for being “patriots.”
“You love America — although the fact that you are Jewish means that there are idiots who would accuse you of not loving America simply because of it,” he said, invoking the dual loyalties trope to which Fuentes subscribes.
Cruz’s 25-minute speech included celebratory jokes about Israel’s pager operation that killed some and wounded hundreds of members of Hezbollah, condemnations of what he called a growing “pro-Hamas wing” of the Democratic Party, and a reflection on the horrors of Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel.
But its main thrust was that the Republican Party has reached a point where its Jewish and pro-Israel membership must think about how to stave off a growing anti-Israel movement, and quell the proliferation of antisemitic conspiracy theories.
Cruz began his speech by remarking that this was the RJC’s 40th-anniversary summit — a fact that he said poignantly reinforced the weight of this moment.
“Thinking back over the last 40 years, I don’t know that there has been a year in those 40 that the Republican Jewish Coalition was more needed than right now,” Cruz said.
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Dating in New York after Oct. 7 was already painful. Then came Zohran Mamdani
I was considering getting back together with someone I dated earlier this year. When we reconnected this past summer, we hit it off again instantly. As we took in the sunset along the East River promenade, we reminisced about how easily the conversation had always flowed between us.
But then, she had to ask the question: “Who are you going to vote for?”
“I have to vote for Mamdani,” I said.
And that was the end of that. It became a Zohran Mamdani breakup. Or, Mamdani, the Democratic candidate for New York City mayor, torched the chances of us getting back together. I have him to blame — or thank — for that one.
Dating in New York City has never been easy. Dating here as a divorced 40-something Jewish dad seeking to meet other Jews in a post-Oct. 7 world, with an autocrat as president and a democratic socialist running for mayor, is almost impossible. There are so many political reasons to decide it’s not worth it to pursue a relationship with someone — even before determining how well you’d really get along.
When I resumed using dating apps this spring, after the end of my first long-term relationship following my divorce, I noticed that way more Jewish women in their 30s and 40s were listing their politics as “moderate” than I’d ever seen before. Many of them showcased Israeli flags or Stars of David in their bios or noted something positive about Israel or Zionism.
As I began chatting with potential interests, I learned that for some women, the aftermath of the Oct. 7 attack had transformed them from social liberals into supporters of President Donald Trump, due to Republicans’ perceived alignment with Israel’s interests. Others were liberal and perhaps even progressive in many of their views, but adamantly Zionist. They were thus much more conservative than me when it came to any question about Israel’s right to keep prosecuting a war with an exceptionally high civilian death toll.
Being back on the dating scene was a minefield. And then Mamdani’s stunning surge in the Democratic mayoral primary began.
I wasn’t ready to vote for Mamdani in the primary, instead ranking his Jewish ally, former Comptroller Brad Lander, first. But the more I learned, the more comfortable I was with Mamdani’s vision and plans for New York. And he’s running for mayor of New York City, after all, not Tel Aviv.
Yet what I found: With many potential dates, even an allusion to Mamdani would halt any progress in its tracks.
Just this month — ironically, on Oct. 7 — I was having a pleasant back-and-forth with someone on Lox Club, the supposedly selective dating app for Jews with “ridiculously high standards.” I was increasingly eager to meet her: She was bright, pretty, well-traveled, and, most importantly, starting to find me hilarious.
She lived in Manhattan, like me. But when I asked about where she’s from, she said she’s from Long Island and that she’ll likely move back after the election if Mamdani wins.
Part of me was tempted to say whatever was needed to at least score a date. I could have done the texting version of smiling and nodding, perhaps validating her fears and saying I’m worried too. But I suspected I’d be wasting my time pretending we could accommodate differing outlooks on the city’s future. I texted her that I’m convinced a Mamdani administration would be way better for the city than most people fear. Still, it seemed our views were too divergent, as much as I’d have loved to meet her. She agreed, and I ruefully tapped “unmatch.”
In some ways, it seems frivolous to lament the plight of diaspora dating. The trauma experienced by Jewish daters in the comfortable environs of New York City can’t possibly be compared to the trauma of those who experienced the terror of Oct. 7, or the suffering of Palestinian civilians in Gaza during the subsequent war.
But there’s a real cost to Jews becoming more suspicious of one another. We risk isolating ourselves into smaller and smaller blocs, making it harder for us to connect once we find each other.
It also means that those who take a less reactive and more nuanced view wind up silencing themselves. How can I express that my heart was torn apart every time I heard first-hand accounts from freed hostages who returned to Israel — but that I also grieve deeply over the devastation in Gaza? How can I admit that former Gov. Andrew Cuomo has a good track record in connecting with Jewish voters and would likely reliably stand up to antisemitism, but be more compelled by Mamdani’s infectious love for New York City — and believe his criticism of Israel doesn’t make him an antisemite?
And how can I express my love for Israel — the idea of it and its people, though not necessarily its government — while voting for a candidate who questions Israel’s viability as a Jewish state?
For too many Jewish daters like myself, there is increasingly a sense that looking for someone who is also willing to take an open-minded approach to conflicting political truths is like praying for a miracle.
There was one promising moment, before my springtime interest and I decided not to renew our romance, that gave me hope. My date and I watched an episode of Real Time with Bill Maher, one of her favorite shows, together. I hadn’t seen his show in so many years that I was game to see why she enjoyed it so much.
I was surprised she could find humor in someone so critical of Trump, the president for whom she voted. She was surprised I could agree with a lot of the centrist views from Maher and his guests, most of which didn’t toe the progressive line. I told her that night that if things worked out between us, we’d have to invite Maher to our wedding.
That obviously didn’t happen. But I still think we need more moments like that — opportunities to appreciate both our commonalities and differences. I could envision another version of that relationship, where we end up listening to different podcasts and following different Instagram accounts, but still find areas where we can share similar perspectives and laugh at the same jokes.
I’m skeptical, and disheartened. But I’m still holding out hope for some future “Maher weddings” — even though with every swipe right or left, it feels increasingly naïve to think that. And yet, at heart, I’m a Jew, and I’ve studied enough of the history of the Jews to know that we’ve been through worse. We’ll get through this. But not before more anniversaries of Oct. 7 have passed.
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NYC’s Eric Adams condemns anti-Israel art exhibit: ‘Activism is not an excuse for antisemitism’
(JTA) — New York City Mayor Eric Adams used his podium in City Hall Thursday to take aim at an anti-Israel art installation that appeared on Governors Island over the weekend.
In a virtual address, Adams also took thinly veiled aim at Zohran Mamdani, the frontrunner to replace him after next week’s election, suggesting that the kind of antisemitism that he said had festered even under his leadership would explode under Mamdani’s.
Adams’ address centered on an installation, housed in the House 11 cabin owned by the Trust for Governors Island and occupied by Swale, a floating food forest nonprofit, that featured paintings that included the words “F—k Israel Ln” and “Hamas Lover.”
The exhibit, which was displayed on Sunday, was “unsanctioned by Governor’s Island” and was taken down a few hours after it was installed, Adams said.
“This incident disturbs me, and it should disturb anyone with a conscience,” said Adams in a virtual address from City Hall on Thursday. “I’ve talked a lot about how we’ve seen these incidents erode the fabric of cities across the globe, but in New York City, we must never tolerate this type of prejudice.”
Swale denounced the exhibit in a post on Instagram, writing that it was “devastated that someone would use a restorative project for their own personal platform for sowing discord.”
“The individual responsible was not part of our programming and not an artist-in-residence,” the post read. “The unapproved artist was invited into an empty back studio by a current artist-in-residence during seasonal wind-down without authorization to display work. We view this as a deliberate and malicious act by the artist.”
The artist allegedly behind the installation, Rebecca Goyette, who was identified by the New York Post, authored an op-ed in Hyperallergic where she described developing a relationship with a Palestinian dentist after working on a pro-Palestinian protest at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Adams, who dropped out of the mayoral race last month and last week endorsed Mamdani’s rival, Andrew Cuomo, used his address to decry what he described as the normalization of antisemitism in New York City.
“We are now watching as antisemitism is institutionalized right before our very eyes,” said Adams. “Before we know it, hate moves to the mainstream, and once it is in the mainstream, it becomes much harder to mobilize against. We saw that with apartheid. We saw that with the Holocaust, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t see seeds of it planted within our own city government.”
Later, Adams took aim at “those who want to say they want to globalize the intifada,” an apparent reference to mayoral frontrunner Zohran Mamdani who caught fire from Jewish leaders after he declined to condemn the pro-Palestinian slogan during a podcast appearance in June.
A month later, Mamdani told business leaders at a closed-door meeting that he would discourage the use of the phrase.
“I know it is not too late for New York,” said Adams. “We will never surrender our city to hate or to those who want to say they want to ‘globalize the intifada,’ or to choose and believe and not refuse to condemn it, because it’s literally a phrase that means death to Jews all over the world.”
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