A mayor’s words don’t stop a fire. They don’t erase graffiti. They don’t undo the fear a targeted community feels when hatred shows up at their front door.
But words do something else that matters just as much -- they set the standard for what a city will tolerate, and what it won’t. They signal to frontline officers, city staff, schools, and community partners whether leadership will meet a crisis with moral clarity or with caution.
That difference was on stark display this month in two American cities.
In New York City, protesters gathered outside a Queens synagogue and nearby Jewish institutions and chanted, “We support Hamas here,” along with other inflammatory slogans. The backlash was immediate, not because people were confused about policy, but because there should be no ambiguity about praising a terrorist organization, and certainly not outside a house of worship that is feeling vulnerable. Several public officials condemned the rhetoric quickly. New York City’s mayor, Zohran Mamdani, ultimately did as well, but only after a delay that drew pointed criticism and left many Jewish New Yorkers feeling exposed in the hours that mattered most.
Then look at Jackson, Mississippi.
After an arson attack heavily damaged Beth Israel Congregation, Jackson’s only synagogue, Mayor John Horhn responded with urgency and clarity, condemning the fire as antisemitism and religious hatred and making clear that this was an attack on the city as a whole. He went to the site, thanked first responders and investigative partners, and treated the moment as what it was: a test of public safety and civic cohesion.
And this is the point: antisemitism is not a political litmus test; it’s a public safety threat. It breaks community trust, fuels intimidation, and too often escalates into violence. When it shows up, leadership can’t be cautious or convenient. It must be immediate and unequivocal.
When a mob chooses a Jewish neighborhood or a synagogue as its stage, it is doing more than protesting. It is broadcasting intimidation. And intimidation thrives in hesitation.
The New York protest did not occur in a vacuum. New York City has spent the last year grappling with a sustained spike in antisemitic incidents, and Jewish residents have repeatedly asked a simple question: will my city defend my right to live and worship without fear? When condemnation is delayed, even by a day, the message many people receive is not “we’re being careful.” It’s “you’re on your own until this becomes politically unavoidable.” That perception is corrosive, even if it isn’t what a mayor intended.
Jackson’s mayor understood something every local leader learns quickly, that in moments like these, your community needs clarity first. Not a perfect statement. Not a calibrated one. A clear one.
Beth Israel Congregation has a long history and, tragically, a history of being targeted. The recent arson attack wasn’t just property damage; it was an attack on identity and belonging, and it rattled a small Jewish community already living under heightened concern.
Mayor Horhn’s response did what every mayor’s response should do: it made clear the city would not normalize antisemitism, and it framed the attack as a threat to the entire community, not only to Jews. That framing is essential. It tells residents: “This is not someone else’s problem.” It tells perpetrators: “This won’t be minimized.” And it tells the Jewish community: “You belong here, and we will protect you.”
Here’s the standard every mayor can apply without consulting a polling memo: you can argue about policy, and you can disagree about foreign affairs. But praising Hamas, or any terrorist organization, is not resistance and not activism. It’s incitement and intimidation, and it has no place in our cities, much less outside a synagogue, a mosque, a church, or a school.
That isn’t a partisan statement. It’s a public safety one. And it’s essential for the men and women in uniform who need to know their city’s leadership has their backs when they’re asked to keep the peace in volatile situations.
New York’s episode should be a warning about how quickly silence is interpreted, and how hard it is to rebuild confidence once people feel abandoned. Jackson’s response should be a reminder of what strong local leadership can do in the first critical hours.
If “never again” is going to mean anything in our cities, it must show up in what we do now and in how quickly we’re willing to say, without a moment’s hesitation: not here. Not on our watch.
Lisa Katz serves as chief government affairs officer at the Combat Antisemitism Movement (CAM) and previously held elected office as town supervisor in New Castle, N.Y.