The American Jewish Community’s Blue City Trap

In the days following Oct. 7, New York Times columnist Bret Stephens coined the term “the October 8th Jew” to describe those who woke up the next morning with a renewed understanding of Jewish vulnerability. For many, Oct. 7 was a breaking point—an unmistakable signal that the ideological allies they had trusted in academia, activism, and government did not stand with them when Jews were massacred. But what Stephens captured was not just an emotional turning point—it was a call for a political and communal reckoning. And yet that reckoning has been largely postponed or avoided by many major Jewish institutions, especially in the blue cities where they are based.

There has been, of course, talk of a “Jewish realignment,” and some shifts have occurred. Individual donors have pulled back from institutions like Harvard or PEN America. Some communal leaders issued stronger statements on antisemitism from the left. But institutionally? The pivot has been muted, especially among legacy  organizations. Why?

The Politics of Proximity

The ten largest Jewish communities in America are embedded within metro areas that overwhelmingly voted for Kamala Harris in the 2024 election. With a few exceptions (notably Miami and Atlanta, which still went for Harris), these metropolitan regions are deeply blue. Cities like New York, Los Angeles, Washington, Boston and San Francisco not only lean Democratic—they define the progressive political mainstream.

Largest Jewish Communities and 2024 Presidential Vote by Metro Area

This geographic-political context is essential to understanding why many legacy Jewish institutions have not meaningfully pivoted away engaging progressives and progressive causes, and built new coalitions more manifestly aligned with their interests, even after the Oct. 7 attacks and the surge of antisemitism that followed.

Mainstream Jewish organizations—such as federations, JCRCs (Jewish Community Relations Councils), and large synagogues—are physically and culturally situated within progressive political ecosystems. Their staff, board members, donors, and partner institutions (e.g., universities, interfaith coalitions, city governments) are mostly Democrats. For many, their children attend public or private schools where progressive DEI frameworks are dominant. Their rabbis speak from pulpits located in precincts where a Republican vote is not just rare but also can be seen as morally suspect.

As a result, criticizing progressive norms—whether it’s identity-based ideology or acceptance of antisemitism in racial justice movements—can alienate their base and undermine their perceived legitimacy. Even raising concerns about how progressive frameworks might fuel antisemitism is often framed as “punching left” or “undermining coalition unity.”

High Stakes in the Status Quo

Mainstream Jewish organizations are recipients of government support, including DHS Nonprofit Security Grant Program funds, which have grown to over $300 million nationally; state social services contracts, especially in New York, Maryland, California, and Illinois; and urban partnerships tied to homelessness services, senior care, food distribution, and workforce development. Criticizing the political leadership of cities or governors who sign these checks—or the ideological frameworks embedded in city agencies—can threaten not just public standing, but real revenue.

Turning against the progressive coalition would mean breaking relationships with city councils, school boards, and interfaith partners; losing credibility with younger, progressive Jews; and risking their funding base and social capital. Moreover, many of their own members have not pivoted politically. While concerned about antisemitism, they still support even the most progressive Democrats because of abortion rights, gun control, climate policy, or fear of Trumpism. This creates a tension: Jewish organizations that wish to sound the alarm about antisemitism from the left must do so without alienating their liberal constituents.

Jewish organizations that wish to sound the alarm about antisemitism from the left must do so without alienating their liberal constituents.

Jewish organizations thus remain in political alliances, arguably out of necessity, that no longer serve all their interests—but exiting those coalitions comes at a very high price. Their ideological partners often tolerate or excuse anti-Zionism and even antisemitism. Their financial, cultural and political survival depends on not making too much noise about it. So despite the trauma of Oct. 7, most of the organizational behavior has remained the same. Statements get sharpened. Backchannel complaints are made. But the political alignment holds.

Escaping the Trap

Legacy organizations have good reasons to defend the status quo. Their funding streams, institutional partnerships, and reputational capital are all bound up in the political structures of blue cities and states. Legacy organizations are bound by legacy commitments. But that reality means that many of these institutions will remain constrained in their ability to respond to new and growing threats. If we want to face the challenges of this moment—whether in education, campus culture, or public safety—we need to build new institutions (or old institutions need to develop new vehicles) not bound by these same commitments. These new initiatives must be funded, staffed and scaled to serve as durable alternatives. Over time, they must become as strong or stronger than the legacy groups they sit alongside, not because they are louder or more radical, but because they are freer to speak the truth and act on it.

David Bernstein is the Founder and CEO of the North American Values Institute (NAVI).