Beginning in 1918 and ending around 1923, the Russian Civil War was a bloody and complex conflict that did much to shape the subsequent fate of Europe. It pitted the Soviets (the “Reds”) against an assortment of anti-Communist forces (the “Whites”). At one point, the White Army issued every soldier a rifle and the anti-Semitic tract The Protocols of the Elders of Zion. Isaac Sligh reviews a new book on this war by Anna Reid:

In A Nasty Little War, Reid unfolds a scathing indictment of White incompetence and malfeasance: five-hour teas taken with the enemy at the gates; shipments of foreign aid whisked away to the black market; skepticism and ingratitude towards Allied help. Worst of all was a virulent anti-Semitism—Jews were indistinguishable from Bolsheviks in White propaganda—that fueled pogroms of terrifying thoroughness. Somewhere between 100,000 and 200,000 Jews were massacred in Ukraine during the Civil War; Reid fingers Ukrainian warlords as the worst perpetrators, but the White Army and its Cossack vanguards as the most systematic.

In light of what Reid agrees was a “rehearsal for the Holocaust,” it is tough to stomach the tut-tutting of British officials, who summed up certain generals as “scallywags” or covered up White atrocities altogether—a proposal from none other than Chaim Weizmann to lead a monitoring mission to Ukraine was rejected.

Reid also argues convincingly that defeated White émigrés helped stoke the fires of anti-Semitism in Weimar Germany. (With such a litany, one should still bear in mind that the Bolsheviks were simultaneously waging what Lenin proudly called “Mass Terror,” including pogroms, much of it beyond the purview of Reid’s book.)

If Iran succeeds in obtaining nuclear weapons, the war in Gaza, let alone the protests on college campuses, will seem like a minor complication. Jonathan Schachter fears that this danger could be much more imminent than decisionmakers in Jerusalem and Washington believe. In his view, Israel seems to be repeating the mistake that allowed it to be taken by surprise on Simchat Torah of 2023 and Yom Kippur of 1973: putting too much faith in an intelligence concept that could be wrong.

Israel and the United States apparently believe that despite Iran’s well-documented progress in developing capabilities necessary for producing and delivering nuclear weapons, as well as its extensive and ongoing record of violating its international nuclear obligations, there is no acute crisis because building a bomb would take time, would be observable, and could be stopped by force. Taken together, these assumptions and their moderating impact on Israeli and American policy form a new Iran concept reminiscent of its 1973 namesake and of the systemic failures that preceded the October 7 massacre.

Meanwhile, most of the restrictions put in place by the 2015 nuclear deal will expire by the end of next year, rendering the question of Iran’s adherence moot. And the forces that could be taking action aren’t:

The European Union regularly issues boilerplate press releases asserting its members’ “grave concern.” American decisionmakers and spokespeople have created the unmistakable impression that their reservations about the use of force are stronger than their commitment to use force to prevent an Iranian atomic bomb. At the same time, the U.S. refuses to enforce its own sanctions comprehensively: Iranian oil exports (especially to China) and foreign-currency reserves have ballooned since January 2021, when the Biden administration took office.

Israel’s response has also been sluggish and ambiguous. Despite its oft-stated policy of never allowing a nuclear Iran, Israel’s words and deeds have sent mixed messages to allies and adversaries—perhaps inadvertently reinforcing the prevailing sense in Washington and elsewhere that Iran’s nuclear efforts do not present an exigent crisis.