Mamdani and the illusion of Islamic victory in American politics

When Zohran Mamdani was elected Mayor of New York City, celebrations erupted across Arab and Muslim circles as though a new chapter in American foreign policy had begun. Yet for New Yorkers, the victory meant something far more practical: a mayor tasked with fixing housing shortages, tackling rising costs, and keeping the city safe. This contrast—between local expectations and global symbolism—captures the illusion at the heart of the reaction, and sets the stage for a deeper question: why do distant audiences continue to project their hopes onto figures whose power is bound by American institutions?

This reaction, which sees a Muslim mayor as a symbol of triumph, reflects a familiar mindset in the region—one that reads global events more from an emotional angle than from a rational and realistic one. Many tend to link the personal identity of the winner to their own interests, overlooking the fact that the reality of any American official, whether a president or the mayor of a major city, will remain bound by the interests of his country and its institutions.

The voter who cast his ballot for Mamdani in New York views him from a purely local perspective. For that voter, the new mayor is an administrative and political official who must confront the city’s daily challenges: the housing crisis, rising living costs, improving public services, addressing transportation and security issues, and ensuring that New York remains a city capable of accommodating its diverse population. These expectations are realistic and direct, tied to the city’s budget, local policies, and the mayor’s ability to negotiate with councils and various bodies to achieve their interests. The voter does not see Mamdani as a religious or cultural symbol, but as an elected official who must prove his competence in managing a complex city like New York.

The global Muslim observer, however, reads the event from a completely different angle. Mamdani’s victory, for him, is not just a local election but carries symbolic meanings that transcend New York’s borders. He sees it as a victory for Muslims in the West or as a sign that Islamic identity has begun to find a place in American decision-making centers. 

This emotional reading leads the observer to expect that Mamdani will defend major Arab and Muslim causes—from Palestine to the global image of Islam—even though his position grants him no authority over these issues (despite the fact that he leveraged this point in his campaign). Here, the clear contrast emerges: the local voter awaits practical solutions to his daily problems, while the Muslim observer burdens the event with more than it can bear, confusing symbolism with reality and repeating the cycle of hope and disappointment previously experienced with figures of nontraditional backgrounds in American politics.

We all witnessed this scene during the election of Barack Obama in 2008. At that time, Arabs and Muslims rejoiced, seeing in his skin color and different origins a promise that Washington’s policies would change in their favor. But they soon discovered that the American president cannot transcend his country’s strategic interests, and that he would remain president of the United States, not president of the Islamic world. Obama did not change the rules of the game; he continued to manage Middle Eastern files according to American power calculations, leaving many in deep disappointment and raising questions about the reasons for clinging to hope beyond their borders.

Here, the phenomenon of repeated shock appears. After every emotional misreading of global events, Muslims find themselves facing a reality completely different from what they expected. They rejoiced at Obama and were later disillusioned by his policies; today they rejoice at Mamdani, and will soon discover that his position does not grant him the ability to reshape American policy in line with their interests. These repeated shocks are not mere passing events but part of a mental pattern that links symbolism and reality in an unbalanced way.

The reasons are multiple and intertwined. First is the absence of rational political analysis tools in public culture, where emotion and populism prevail over strategic reading. Second is the historical sense of marginalization, which makes any global event seem like an opportunity for symbolic compensation. Third is the tendency to personalize politics—the belief that an individual’s background or identity can change the nature of the political system in which he operates—while the truth is that institutions and lobbies determine the course.

Symbols inspire, but institutions decide. Mamdani’s win may carry emotional resonance for Muslims abroad, but it will not alter the structural realities of American politics. The lesson, repeated since the Obama era, is that identity alone cannot bend the machinery of US policy. Real influence comes not from celebrating symbolic victories, but from building lobbies, forging alliances, and creating networks that translate presence into power. Until that shift occurs, the cycle of hope and disappointment will continue—proof that without strategy, symbolism remains an illusion.