Do Middle East politics affect the way archaeologists talk and write about ancient Israel? Without a doubt, writes Hershel Shanks, editor of Biblical Archaeology Review. He offers some disturbing examples regarding Jericho, now under the control of the Palestinian Authority:

A conference was recently held at University College London titled “Digging Up Jericho.” Scholars from England, the United States, Holland, Italy, Denmark, and the Palestinian Department of Antiquities presented papers. No scholars from you-know-where were on the program. . . .

[N]one of the papers dealt with whether the excavation revealed any information—positive or negative—about the biblical account of the destruction of Jericho. The Bible was apparently verboten. No one would ever know the Bible dealt with the site. . . .

In the spring of 2012, I met an archaeologist in Jerusalem who was associated with [the ongoing excavation at Jericho]. When she told me about it, I naturally thought of the possibility of an article in Biblical Archaeology Review. I mentioned this to her, and she seemed to be receptive. We decided to go to the site and talk further about it. We had a great visit, and on the way back we agreed on the general outline of an article. . . .

Despite the promising start, the archaeologist later declined to write the article, citing “the political situation.” Shanks surmises this was an oblique indication that her research would be stopped if she attached her name to an article that discussed the Bible’s account of the city.

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.