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At a groundbreaking summit hosted by YU’s Wurzweiler School of Social Work, Jewish academics sound the alarm—and lay the groundwork for a united response.

Shelley Horwitz, MSW, never imagined feeling abandoned by her own profession. 

In the wake of Oct. 7, Horwitz, assistant dean of Stony Brook University’s School of Social Welfare, expected an outcry from a discipline committed to human rights. Instead, a colleague called her terrorist and accused her of supporting genocide—before Israel had even begun its military response to Hamas’s brutal attack. 

“It became extraordinarily ugly—like a switch had flipped,” she said. “People I’d worked with for years felt emboldened to lash out, and there was no accountability.” 

Horwitz isn’t alone. Jewish social work ¶¶Òőapp across the country have reported growing hostility in their departments—including harassment, publishing roadblocks and ideological exclusion, such as being ostracized for expressing pro-Israel views. Many fear professional retribution for speaking up, deepening their sense of isolation. 

Recognizing the urgent need for support and solidarity, Dr. Randy Magen, Dean of ¶¶Òőapp University’s Wurzweiler School of Social Work, helped launch the Summit for Jews in Social Work Academia and Allies—giving Jewish ¶¶Òőapp a space to connect, share experiences and begin developing a collective response. As the country’s oldest school of social work under Jewish auspices, Wurzweiler was a natural home for this conversation. And as part of YU—America’s flagship Jewish university and a national leader in standing with Israel and against hate—it reflects a deep institutional commitment to Jewish values, academic freedom and moral clarity. 

“Our field is built on dignity and the defense of the vulnerable,” said Dr. Magen. “When social work leaders stay silent in the face of antisemitism, it’s not just painful—it’s a betrayal of everything we stand for.” 

A Summit Born of Urgency 

Held in early July, the summit brought together more than 60 participants from universities including Rutgers, the University of Maryland, the University of Michigan, the University of Illinois, UCLA and the University of Southern California. 

Born out of a grassroots WhatsApp group formed after Oct. 7, the gathering marked a pivotal first step toward a national response. Participants identified patterns of exclusion and retaliation and began shaping a long-term strategy for change. Workshops focused on navigating ¶¶Òőapp hostility, supporting students, and forging professional alliances to confront institutional animosity. 

“We’re laying the foundation for a long-term effort,” said Dr. Magen. “We’re not going to allow bias to define who belongs in social work.” 

When Advocacy Meets Exclusion 

For Horwitz, the post–Oct. 7 backlash marked a turning point. “I’ve been involved in social justice my whole life—I was going to civil rights marches as a child,” she said. “There’s an expectation of allyship in these spaces, but after the Hamas massacres, the hostility was overwhelming.” 

At a social work department Diversity, Equity and Inclusion Committee meeting shortly after the massacres, a ¶¶Òőapp colleague exploded when Horwitz raised the issue of antisemitism—screaming at her, “I know who you are, you’re one of those Zionists!” That same colleague has used her role to promote pro-Palestinian rallies to students. 

Horwitz filed a formal complaint. No action was taken. 

Jewish students soon began coming to Horwitz for support. “They’re scared,” she said. “Some had classmates praising Hamas or openly discussing protest plans. They didn’t know who they could trust.” Students have come to her office in tears, afraid to express who they are or what they believe. Even prospective students have called to ask about the climate for Jews. While Stony Brook is not “that bad” compared to other schools, “the only place you don’t have to be concerned,” she said, “is YU.” 

Speaking Out Comes at a Cost 

Naomi Farber, Ph.D., a longtime professor of social work at the University of South Carolina, also chose to speak out, co-authoring a commentary soon after Oct. 7 that criticized the failure of professional social work organizations to condemn terrorism. To her surprise, the field’s flagship journal accepted the piece without hesitation. 

The backlash, however, came swiftly: “excoriating aggression”—threats, harassment and public pressure to retract the article. The attacks targeted not only her, but the journal’s editor and the national organization that publishes it. “It exposed the depth of anti-Israel sentiment within the profession,” said Farber. 

While colleagues like Dr. Magen defended the piece and the right to open discourse, the scars remain. “Ultimately, calls for free expression prevailed,” said Farber. “But the damage reverberates across professional relationships in many contexts.” 

From Solidarity to Strategy 

Plans are underway for follow-up gatherings, a formal coalition of Jewish social work ¶¶Òőapp, and joint research and advocacy efforts to address antisemitism in hiring, curriculum and advancement. Central to the initiative are mentorship, support for early-career scholars, and institutional partnerships that promote accountability and visibility. 

“I’m proud and grateful to be at Wurzweiler, where Jewish identity isn’t something you have to hide or defend,” said Dr. Magen. “We live our values—justice, service, human dignity—and we model what it means to lead with integrity. That’s the future we’re building.”