On a cool November evening in Jerusalem, something quietly powerful happened. Dozens of mayors and municipal leaders from across the globe gathered not in a conference hall for speeches and handshakes, but in a circle of memory, lighting candles for a tragedy that took place 88 years ago. The occasion was the 88th anniversary of Kristallnacht, the Night of Broken Glass, when Nazi mobs swept through Germany and Austria on November 9 and 10, 1938, shattering Jewish storefronts, burning synagogues, and sending thousands of Jewish men to concentration camps. It was the moment when casual hatred turned into organized state violence, a terrifying prelude to the Holocaust. For many of the visiting mayors, the ceremony was an encounter with history they had studied but perhaps never felt so directly. The candle-lighting was not just a gesture of respect; it was an act of bearing witness. It opened the 35th International Mayors Conference, organized by the American Jewish Congress, an annual gathering that brings together local leaders from around the world to strengthen international ties and explore practical cooperation in technology, innovation, and economic development. But the setting made clear that this was not a usual municipal networking event. Behind the modern conference agenda lay an older, urgent message: that democracies cannot afford to forget where intolerance leads. As the flames flickered in Jerusalem stone, each candle seemed to carry the weight of a community that was once told it had no future—and yet stood there, in the capital of a thriving Jewish state, with mayors from cities far and wide standing in solidarity. It was a scene of contrasts: grief and resilience, catastrophe and renewal, the memory of destruction and the visible proof of rebirth. That combination set the tone for everything that followed.
Among the voices addressing the international delegation was US Ambassador to Israel Mike Huckabee, a former Arkansas governor known for his plainspoken style. He used his platform to issue a direct challenge: too many people around the world have accepted falsehoods about Israel, and the best antidote is personal experience. “There are so many crazy things being said about Israel around the world that simply aren’t true,” he told the assembled mayors. “Israel needs more people to come here, see the reality with their own eyes, and then go home and simply tell people what they saw.” His words were not abstract. Huckabee was speaking to people who lead towns, cities and regions—officials whose opinions can shape public conversation and whose travels can open minds. In an era of viral misinformation and polarized narratives, he was suggesting that nothing is more convincing than the testimony of a respected local leader who has walked the streets of Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, or Sderot. Huckabee did not ask the mayors to agree with every policy of the Israeli government. He asked them to be honest witnesses. He stressed that Israel is often judged by caricature rather than contact, and that firsthand observation would give them a more nuanced, truer picture. It is a simple but powerful human idea: the more people see a place for themselves, the harder it is to reduce it to a slogan. Huckabee’s appeal also carried an implicit rebuke to the growing movement of delegitimization, boycotts and one-sided condemnations that often single out Israel while ignoring its security challenges. He spoke as an ambassador, but also as a longtime friend of the country, urging the mayors to become ambassadors of reality in their own communities. He seemed to believe that once people encounter Israel’s complexity, diversity, innovation and warmth, the crude caricatures lose their power. His message was less about politics than about perception: seeing is believing, and shared seeing can build shared understanding.
Huckabee’s remarks about mayors were rooted in deep respect for local government. “Mayors and governors have one thing in common: we actually get things done,” he said. “You can wake up in the morning with an idea and have it implemented by the end of the day.” He was not just paying a compliment. He was describing a kind of leadership that is practical, close to the ground, and accountable in ways that national politicians often are not. Mayors run transit systems, approve housing developments, clean up neighborhoods, respond to crises, and meet residents where they live. Their successes are visible on street corners; their failures are visible too. Huckabee, who governed Arkansas for more than a decade, understood that municipal power is also moral power. When a mayor stands against antisemitism, racism, or bigotry, it matters. When a mayor welcomes a marginalised community, others take notice. When a mayor refuses to be silent in the face of hatred, the silence is broken. He called on the visiting officials to carry that responsibility seriously, to confront prejudice in their own cities, and to promote cooperation among different groups. In a world where national leaders often talk past each other, mayors can build bridges that make daily life better. Huckabee’s framing was intentionally flattering, but it was also a challenge: because mayors are doers, they should also be leaders in repairing a fractured public discourse. He was asking them to take what they learned in Jerusalem and turn it into action—whether by sharing their experiences, building partnerships with Israeli cities, or simply refusing to repeat stereotypes. For many of the mayors in the room, that message resonated. They came from countries with very different relationships to Israel and very different domestic pressures. Yet it is easier for a mayor to build a sister-city relationship or a technology partnership than it is to solve a Middle East peace plan. Local action can be a starting point for larger change.
The ambassador also turned to Israel’s remarkable technological and economic achievements. Israel, he reminded the delegates, provides the world with inventions and innovations that save lives, improve agriculture, advance medicine, and power communications. Despite being a small country, often under threat and at war for much of its existence, it has become a global hub of creativity and problem-solving. But instead of gratitude and partnership, Israel often faces boycott movements and international campaigns seeking to sanction it. “Instead of the world simply saying thank you to Israel for the technologies and innovations it provides, there are countries seeking to boycott and sanction it. That’s crazy,” Huckabee said. “What we should have here is a genuine partnership.” His words captured a paradox that many supporters of Israel often voice: a country that contributes so much to human progress should not be treated as a pariah. Huckabee’s frustration was human as much as political. Imagine spending decades perfecting life-saving technology, only to hear calls for economic warfare against your country. His appeal was to fairness: if Israeli innovation helps the world, the world should be building bridges, not walls. The mayors in the audience were ideally positioned to act on that idea. Cities are laboratories of innovation. They face urgent challenges—climate, housing, health, transportation, public safety—and they are hungry for solutions. Israeli companies and research centers have plenty to offer. By forming partnerships, the mayors could improve their residents’ lives while also building relationships that transcend politics. This is the kind of cooperation that Huckabee, and the American Jewish Congress, hoped to encourage: not abstract declarations but tangible projects—water desalination in drought-prone towns, cyber defenses for city networks, digital health tools, agricultural technology for urban farms. In this way, the conference was designed to show that Israel’s resilience is not just a story of survival but a source of practical benefit. The people who rise from necessity have developed a habit of turning problems into opportunities. That spirit, Huckabee suggested, is something every city could use.
American Jewish Congress president Daniel Rosen framed the conference as the beginning of lasting relationships. “Over the coming days, mayors from around the world will experience innovation born out of necessity,” he said. “This visit is an opportunity to build trust and personal relationships that will endure long after it ends.” He then laid out the ambition clearly: “Our goal is for these mayors to return home with a deeper connection to Israel and a genuine interest in pursuing joint initiatives, from adopting technologies that improve residents’ lives to developing economic and educational partnerships.” Rosen’s phrasing—“innovation born out of necessity”—captures something essential about Israel’s startup culture. In a country where security threats, scarce resources and the pressures of immigration have always been part of daily life, creativity has been a survival strategy. The mayors were not being asked to take a passive tour. They were being invited to see themselves as future partners, people who could pick up a phone and call an Israeli counterpart when their city faced a problem. The conference organizers understood that personal relationships are the foundation of international cooperation. A memorandum of understanding signed by a city council is less important than a trust built over shared meals, shared experiences, and shared stories. By hosting the mayors in Jerusalem on the anniversary of Kristallnacht, the AJC also connected that practical agenda to a moral mission. Strong ties between municipalities and Israel are not just about trade; they are about solidarity. When a city chooses to work with Israel, it implicitly rejects the attempts to isolate it. When a mayor invites an Israeli delegation or adopts an Israeli innovation, it sends a message that the Jewish state is a normal, valuable member of the international community. Rosen’s message was not about limiting relationships; it was an invitation to mutual growth. The mayors could return home with much more than souvenirs—new friendships, new ideas, and a story to tell. That story, repeated in many languages around the world, is the quiet vaccine against misinformation, and it starts not in the halls of national capitals but in the unassuming offices of town halls and city councils.
Standing in Jerusalem, 88 years after Kristallnacht, the mayors were reminded that memory is not meant to be stored away. The Night of Broken Glass was a warning, and the history of the Holocaust showed where unchecked hatred can end. But the event was also a demonstration of how far the Jewish people have come. The candles that lit the ceremony burned in a city that is now the vibrant capital of a democratic state, surrounded by leaders from across the globe who came not to mourn alone but to engage, learn and build. That is not something the victims of 1938 could have imagined. Huckabee and Rosen both emphasized that the fight against prejudice begins with personal connections. No matter how many resolutions are passed or speeches made, real understanding grows when people meet each other, visit each other’s homes, and work together on shared problems. The mayors who gathered in Jerusalem may return to their cities with new technologies and partnership ideas, but they will also carry with them a lived experience of Israel—the sight of children playing, buses running, markets bustling, schools teaching, and a society that, despite hardship, remains inventive and life-affirming. They will be able to say, “I was there. I saw it. This is what it is really like.” This is a form of resistance to falsehood. In a time of deep digital division, the testimony of local leaders is more valuable than ever. The conference’s celebration of 35 years of such exchanges shows that no congress, summit, or diplomatic forum can replace the human encounter. As the candles flickered and went out, the room did not fall into despair. It moved forward, into a program filled with discussions and site visits, connections and possibilities. That is perhaps the most meaningful tribute to Kristallnacht: to refuse to be defined by terror, to choose life and creation, to build alliances that make hatred less likely. The mayors of the world left Jerusalem with a mission: to remember, yes, but also to act. In doing so, they honored the victims of the past and invested in a future they can shape together.