Mamdani Considering Outspoken Opponents of Chassidic Judaism for Key Role on Antisemitism Committee

By: Fern Sidman

By any measure, New York City stands at a delicate crossroads in its relationship with its Jewish communities. Home to the largest Jewish population outside of Israel, the city has long prided itself on being both a sanctuary and a center of Jewish life, religious diversity, and cultural continuity. Yet, according to a report on Wednesday at The Jewish News Syndicate (JNS), that fragile equilibrium is now under renewed strain as Mayor Zohran Mamdani weighs a controversial reshaping of the Mayor’s Office on Combating Antisemitism—an office created amid a historic surge in anti-Jewish violence, intimidation, and rhetoric.

As the JNS report detailed, Mamdani, whose tenure has already been marked by ideological confrontation with large segments of the Jewish community, is reportedly considering two outspoken critics of Chassidic Judaism to lead the city’s central institutional mechanism for addressing antisemitism. The move has triggered alarm, disbelief, and outrage across political, religious, and communal lines, intensifying fears that the mayor’s administration is drifting further away from the lived realities of Jewish New Yorkers.

The controversy is magnified by the fact that Moshe Davis, the current director of the office, remains widely respected and praised for his service under former mayor Eric Adams. As JNS reported, Davis still lists himself as director of the office on both LinkedIn and X, and his tenure has been characterized by broad cooperation across Jewish denominational lines. His approach has been defined not by ideology, but by pragmatic bridge-building—connecting Chassidic, Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, and secular communities under a shared framework of protection, dialogue, and institutional trust.

That reputation is not anecdotal. Jack Kaplan, vice chair of Brooklyn Community Board 12 and a self-described yeshiva graduate, called Davis a “rock star,” telling JNS that the Mamdani administration “would be lucky if they can retain him.” Kaplan’s words echo a broader sentiment across Jewish civic leadership: Davis is viewed as a stabilizing force in a moment of volatility, a rare figure capable of maintaining credibility in a fractured political environment.

Yet, Politico has identified two figures under consideration to replace him: Elad Nehorai, a writer and former Chassid who has publicly chronicled his departure from ultra-Orthodox life, and Phylisa Wisdom, head of the liberal advocacy organization New York Jewish Agenda. Both figures have long records of criticism toward Chassidic communities, a reality that has sent shockwaves through New York’s ultra-Orthodox populations.

The symbolism is as potent as the politics. The Mayor’s Office on Combating Antisemitism is not merely a bureaucratic entity—it is a moral signal, a public declaration of solidarity, reassurance, and institutional protection. As JNS reported, the purpose of such an office is not to adjudicate theological disputes within Judaism, nor to elevate internal communal conflicts, but to confront external threats: violence, hatred, discrimination, and delegitimization directed at Jews as Jews.

This is precisely why the reported shortlist has provoked such intense backlash. Eddie Esses, senior adviser to New York State Senator Sam Sutton, called the potential appointments “absolutely disgraceful” in comments reported by JNS, warning Mamdani directly: “If you truly care about fighting antisemitism, you’d keep Moshe Davis. If you don’t, we’ll make sure every Jewish New Yorker knows what you did.”

City Council Minority Whip Inna Vernikov, herself Jewish and one of the city’s most outspoken voices against antisemitism, was even more direct. “While the New York City mayor gives us lip service about ‘standing in solidarity’ on Holocaust Remembrance Day, he considers Jews who despise Judaism to help us fight antisemitism,” she said. “You can’t make this up.” Her words capture a deeper unease: the perception that symbolic gestures of solidarity are being hollowed out by substantive policy decisions that undermine trust.

Elad Nehorai’s public record, as outlined in the JNS report, reflects a complex personal journey out of ultra-Orthodox life, marked by both introspection and sharp critique. His writing has described “disconnecting from the community that had brought me in, taught me what it meant to be an observant Jew and empowered me in so many ways.” Yet for many Chassidic leaders, this narrative is inseparable from years of public rhetoric that they view as delegitimizing and inflammatory. Benny Polatseck, a former Adams administration staffer and Chassid, described Nehorai to JNS as someone with “a long history of incitement against the Orthodox Jewish community.”

Phylisa Wisdom’s background, also detailed in the JNS report, traces a different ideological arc. Raised in a Reform Jewish household, her political formation was shaped through progressive activism, including lobbying for reproductive rights with the Union for Reform Judaism’s Religious Action Center. Before leading New York Jewish Agenda, she worked with Yaffed, an organization that campaigns for changes in secular education within Chassidic schools—a group many Chassidic leaders view as hostile and intrusive. For ultra-Orthodox communities, Yaffed is not a neutral reform movement but a symbol of external pressure and cultural intervention.

That history matters because the Jewish community in New York is not monolithic. It is a mosaic of identities, practices, and traditions, bound together by shared vulnerability to antisemitism. Any official charged with combating Jew-hatred must be capable of navigating that complexity with sensitivity, legitimacy, and trust. Appointing figures perceived as adversarial to large segments of the Jewish population risks fracturing the very coalition such an office is meant to protect.

This debate cannot be separated from Mayor Mamdani’s broader political profile. Mamdani’s relationship with Jewish New Yorkers has been strained from the outset. He reportedly received only 33% of the Jewish vote in the 2025 mayoral election, drawing much of his support from younger, more progressive voters. He is openly anti-Zionist, supports the boycott, divestment, and sanctions movement against Israel, and has refused to condemn the slogan “globalize the intifada,” though he later said he personally would no longer use it.

On his first day in office, Mamdani revoked his predecessor’s executive order banning city agencies from boycotting Israel and eliminated New York City’s adoption of the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s working definition of antisemitism—a definition widely embraced by Jewish institutions as a foundational tool for identifying modern forms of Jew-hatred, including certain forms of anti-Israel demonization.

These actions, as JNS reported, have deeply eroded trust among mainstream Jewish organizations, particularly within Orthodox and Chassidic communities. Against that backdrop, the rumored appointments are not viewed as isolated personnel decisions but as part of a broader ideological trajectory.

Rabbi Yaacov Behrman, founder of the Jewish Future Alliance and a Chabad press liaison, told JNS he remains skeptical that Mamdani will ultimately appoint either Nehorai or Wisdom. “The whole point of maintaining an Office to Combat Antisemitism is to send a message of reassurance to the Jewish community,” he said. “That’s why I don’t put much stock in the rumors. They simply don’t make political sense.”

Behrman’s analysis reflects a political realism rooted in community dynamics. As he told JNS, such appointments would not only inflame tensions but actively undermine the administration’s credibility. “This is a role with the potential to do real good at a critical moment while also reflecting positively on the administration,” he said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he appoints someone very supportive of Israel as a Jewish state.”

Yet others are less optimistic. Dovid Margolin, senior editor at Chabad.org, was blunt in his assessment, writing that “either Zohran Mamdani is trolling the Jews, or he’s getting terrible advice.” His conclusion was stark: “Both of these choices would make the mayor an even bigger pariah than he is already in the community.”

What emerges from JNS’s report is not merely a staffing controversy but a deeper question about the meaning of antisemitism policy itself. Is the city’s approach rooted in coalition-building and communal trust, or in ideological signaling and political theater? Is the Mayor’s Office on Combating Antisemitism meant to be a shield for vulnerable communities, or a platform for internal Jewish political debates?

At a moment when antisemitic incidents continue to rise, when Jewish institutions require heightened security, and when ideological hostility toward Jews increasingly disguises itself as political discourse, these questions carry profound consequences.

For many Jewish New Yorkers, this is not about personalities—it is about legitimacy. The authority to combat antisemitism does not come from political alignment, but from communal trust. That trust is built through consistency, respect, and credibility across denominational and ideological lines.

Moshe Davis embodied that model. His leadership was not defined by ideological posture but by service, accessibility, and quiet competence. Replacing him with figures viewed as polarizing would signal a fundamental shift in the city’s approach to Jewish communal relations.

In the end, as the JNS report makes clear, this decision will be read as more than an appointment. It will be interpreted as a moral and political statement about who is seen, who is heard, and who is protected in New York City. In a city where Jewish history is woven into the urban fabric itself, the implications reach far beyond City Hall.

Whether Mamdani ultimately heeds the warnings, dismisses the rumors, or proceeds with the reported candidates will shape not only his relationship with Jewish New Yorkers, but the credibility of his administration’s commitment to combating antisemitism. For a city already navigating a precarious moment in communal relations, the stakes could not be higher.