Even if Mamdani wins, Jews can’t afford to miss this moment.

If we take this moment to learn, rather than to fear or gloat, we move closer to a form of collective resilience where credibility becomes confidence, and confidence becomes influence.

Katz’s Delicatessen, one of the many longtime Jewish staples in New York City (photo: Wikipedia)

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This is a guest essay by Joanna Landau, a bestselling author, speaker, and expert on Israeli international diplomacy.

You can also listen to the podcast version of this essay on Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts, and Spotify.

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As New Yorkers elect their next mayor today, much of the Jewish world is watching — not only for how the result might impact them personally, but also for what it might reveal about how radical ideas can morph into real power.

If Zohran Mamdani wins, it will confirm that anti-Israel, latently antisemitic narratives have matured into a viable political platform in the West. If he loses, it will show that there is still a moral and civic immune system strong enough to resist them.

Either way, the implications go far beyond New York.

Because what we are witnessing isn’t just a campaign; it’s a referendum on narrative influence itself. And that’s why I’m writing this essay now, before the votes are finally tallied: We always need to be prepared for developments. We should be ready with a response before the event happens, not after. That’s reputation management 101.

Mamdani’s campaign has been built on moral symbolism, not municipal management. He has presented a binary world: oppressor and oppressed, colonizer and colonized, rich and poor — and placed Israel at the center of that moral equation. It’s not new. What’s new is that it now animates a mainstream political movement in one of the world’s most influential cities.

Regardless of who wins, this moment tells us that narrative ecosystems once confined to activist spaces have crossed into civic life. They no longer operate on the fringes of debate, but in the heart of policy and identity. That’s the real shift, and the real challenge. (It also says something about where Jewish Americans are heading in terms of who they may be willing to support in future elections, local and national.)

Win or lose, this moment demands something we Jews rarely do well: Pause and learn. The Jewish world (especially Israel when it comes to managing its narrative) tends to react, not review. When something goes wrong, we mobilize emotionally. When something goes right, we call the win and move on quickly. What’s missing is a disciplined process of reflection.

The Israeli Air Force is known for conducting debriefs after every operation (successful or not). They do it because they know that learning is the bridge between experience and improvement. That mindset is exactly what we need in the arena of reputational security.

After every major narrative event — a pivotal election, a media crisis, a protest, a viral campaign — we should be asking: What worked and didn’t work for our opponents? And for us? What surprised us? Did we surprise them? What did our opponents understand that we didn’t? And vice versa. How did our messages land emotionally, not just intellectually? How did theirs? What should we do differently next time? And what should we keep?

This kind of structured review could become part of a broader Reputational Debrief Model, a process that strengthens our narrative resilience the same way training exercises strengthen defense systems. Because the point isn’t only to aim at winning every moment; it’s also to learn fast enough to shape the next one.

If Mamdani wins, many will feel shock, anger, or despair. Those emotions are natural, but they are also what our adversaries anticipate. Outrage is a fuel they know how to harness. They can make it even worse. A win for someone like Mamdani will feel personal to many Jews, but reacting from emotion reinforces the very narrative we’re trying to counter: that Jews are defensive, fearful, and out of touch with the moral energy of the next generation.

Instead, the response must be measured and confident. Prepare it now (just as a presidential candidate writes both victory and defeat speeches before the winner is called), not later, when emotions may run high. Acknowledge the result with grace. Let the noise settle.

The deadline is over, the people have spoken. We’re moving from tactical to strategic thinking now — so the way we manage the narrative should adapt accordingly. If Mamdani is here to stay, how best should the Jewish community handle it? How should Israel handle it? These are important questions to answer before initiating a long-term strategy.

The bottom line is: This is not the moment for rage or despair, it’s the moment for strategic composure.

If Mamdani loses, relief will be widespread, but relief can be deceptive. It tempts us into believing that the threat has passed, when in truth it has only paused. The forces that powered his rise — disillusionment, identity politics, the moral thrill of “resistance” — are still there, shaping the next generation. Too many young people are caught in his web, even Jews. In that sense, Mamdani losing won’t really be a win, it’s more of a wake up call that gives us a window of opportunity to fix what got us here in the first place.

There will undoubtedly also be many who will convert their elation into shameless condescension of Mamdani voters, pointing a finger at them in anger or making them the brunt of jokes and ridicule. This would be a mistake, because if he does lose, it will be by a very small margin, which means that almost half of New Yorkers were about to choose this guy. Alienating half of the people around you is never a good idea.

So a Mamdani loss should not be celebrated as a victory, but used as an opportunity to rebuild credibility and connection. The lesson for Jews and Israel shouldn’t be “we won,” but “we still have work to do.” That work includes investing in education, cultural engagement, and storytelling that reaches beyond our comfort zones. It means articulating what Jewish and Israeli life contribute to the broader human story: innovation, resilience, hope, community.

If Mamdani loses, we should use that breathing space to strengthen our foundations before the next test arrives.

Whether Mamdani wins or loses, the reputational challenge remains the same: how to move from reaction to readiness. That means building a new habit of narrative reflection: learning systematically, planning proactively, and responding with emotional intelligence instead of impulse.

In reputational terms, calm is power. Learning is defense. Preparation is influence. Just as Israel’s security rests not only on its army but on its ability to evolve after every encounter, the reputational security of the Jewish world depends on our ability to turn experience into wisdom — fast. Because tomorrow’s headlines will fade. What endures is the story we tell ourselves about what happened, what it meant, and how we choose to respond.

Whichever way the vote goes, there are three enduring lessons for anyone who cares about Jewish and Israeli reputational security. First, narrative preparation is national defense. We prepare for cyberattacks and physical threats, but rarely for narrative ones. That has to change. The fact that so many are bracing for “What if Mamdani wins?” tells you how vulnerable the Jewish world feels reputationally. We need long-term frameworks that anticipate emerging narratives and build societal resilience before they dominate the discourse.

Second, the emotional landscape matters more than the informational one. The Jewish advocacy and pro-Israel world often treats reputation as a fact problem, as if enough data or explanation could change minds. But reputations are built on feelings, not spreadsheets. Mamdani’s appeal is emotional, moral, communal. Our narrative must be too.

And third, reputational security must become a shared project. This is not Jewish America’s problem alone. The reputational security of Jews everywhere depends on coordination: shared intelligence, common language, and unified storytelling grounded in authentic values. Jews in major global cities can learn from one another (just like Mamdani learned from London Mayor Sadiq Kahn). Israel and global Jewry must co-own these missions and work on them together.

Whatever happens, the morning after this election will be noisy. There will be declarations of victory, outrage, spin, and fear. But the real work begins once the noise dies down, when we ask not only what happened, but what it tells us about where we are and who we want to become.

Preparedness, not panic, is the mark of maturity.

If we take this moment to learn, rather than to fear or gloat, we move closer to a form of collective resilience where credibility becomes confidence, and confidence becomes influence. Because whether Mamdani sits in city hall or not, the deeper question remains the same: Will we learn to manage our story, or keep letting others write it for us?

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