Chicago has taken a monumental step, unanimously enshrining the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s (IHRA) working definition of antisemitism into law. This wasn’t the work of seasoned politicians, but a powerful push led by two determined college students who felt a desperate need for action.
Michael Kaminsky, a DePaul University student and survivor of a 2024 campus hate crime, and Jake Rymer of the University of Chicago, spent months tirelessly lobbying City Council members. Their motivation stemmed from a perceived surge in harassment following the October 7th attacks, a period they described as an explosion of hostility on Illinois campuses.
The result was a rare, unanimous vote, equipping Chicago with a globally recognized standard for identifying and addressing the complex realities of modern antisemitism. This ordinance isn’t simply symbolic; it provides a concrete framework for response.
Advocates emphasize that this move answers a critical call from Jewish communities, demanding more than just words of condemnation. It establishes clarity in a landscape often clouded by confusion, offering officials a tangible tool to combat hate.
The Chicago decision highlights a growing divide among major U.S. cities regarding how to confront rising antisemitism. While Chicago moves forward, New York City recently took a dramatically different path.
New York had previously adopted the IHRA definition, but that policy was swiftly reversed by the newly inaugurated Mayor Zohran Mamdani. This rollback sent shockwaves through Jewish communities and advocacy groups, particularly given the escalating threats they were already facing.
The timing of the New York reversal felt particularly jarring following a disturbing incident in Brooklyn. A vehicle was deliberately driven into the Chabad-Lubavitch world headquarters while people were gathered inside, narrowly avoiding injuries but deeply unsettling worshipers and prompting increased security.
Community leaders argue that this incident underscores the vital importance of clear, consistent policy. Rolling back formal definitions, they fear, sends a dangerous message to schools, investigators, and law enforcement tasked with addressing bias-motivated conduct.
Chicago advocates believe adopting IHRA will have far-reaching effects, extending beyond university campuses. They point to a common hesitation among administrators to intervene in antisemitic harassment due to a lack of clear understanding of what constitutes anti-Jewish discrimination.
The stakes are tragically clear in Chicago’s own statistics. The city recorded a staggering 58% increase in anti-Jewish hate crimes in 2024, with incidents targeting Jewish individuals accounting for over a third of all reported hate crimes, despite Jews representing only 3-4% of the population.
Codifying the IHRA definition provides a consistent benchmark for law enforcement, schools, and civil-rights investigators, aiding in the evaluation of complaints, the development of training programs, and the response to bias, even when it’s linked to rhetoric surrounding Israel.
For Kaminsky and Rymer, this campaign was profoundly personal. Both students experienced hostility on campus, feeling frustrated by what they perceived as institutional inaction – delayed investigations and a sense of isolation among Jewish students.
Jewish leaders nationwide are now closely observing Chicago’s bold move, viewing it as a potential model for municipalities seeking a more systematic approach to addressing hate crimes and harassment. Conversely, they fear New York’s hesitation could hinder broader efforts to standardize the identification and confrontation of antisemitism.
The diverging paths of these two cities represent a critical national test. Will political leaders translate their concern into concrete protections for Jewish communities, or will those communities be left to wonder who will stand with them when threats become a terrifying reality?
