Every few decades, writes Adam Kirsch, the fact that Martin Heidegger was enthusiastic about Nazism—and not just “an unworldly man who briefly blundered into it”—seems to be rediscovered, and promptly forgotten again. The latest rediscovery has come with the publication of the philosopher’s Black Notebooks, now partially available in English, as well as a volume of scholarly essays about them. Based on the former, Kirsch expounds on the connection between Heidegger’s rejection of ethics and his embrace of the Third Reich:

Of course, Heidegger’s thought does not lead directly to fascism. . . . But in an important sense, Heidegger leaves the door open for fascism, because he values the intensity and authenticity of a belief over its goodness or truthfulness. In a world defined by nihilism, any source of strong new beliefs and convictions is potentially redemptive. That is why, in the early days of the Hitler dictatorship, Heidegger could take the new Nazi regime as a potential source of new values—an assertion of will that would create an entirely new spiritual and philosophical world.

Nonetheless, admirers of Heidegger persist in finding reasons to ignore his inconvenient beliefs. Now that the Black Notebooks, which contain explicit references to Jews, make his anti-Semitism undeniable, apologists assert, correctly, that Heidegger disavowed any condemnation of Jews based on their biological race:

But this is hardly exculpatory. On the contrary, [Heidegger’s comments on Jews] bring anti-Semitism into the central precincts of his thought. For Heidegger, the “uprooting of beings from Being,” [which he blames on the Jews], was the metaphysical curse of the modern world, the source of the nihilism that afflicted humanity. . . .

Heidegger is a writer who cultivates a mystique of complexity; this is part of what attracted me to him because it makes reading him feel like an arduous quest that promises high rewards. And it is quite true that with such a subtle and profound thinker, Nazism and anti-Semitism will take subtle and “profound” forms. But this does not mean that our judgment on them is not, in the end, simple. The most important thing we have to learn from Heidegger today is how the allure of profundity and authenticity can lead to the destruction of ethics and of thought itself.

In 2003, the Libyan dictator Muammar Gaddafi, spooked by the American display of might in Iraq, decided to destroy or surrender his entire nuclear program. Informed observers have suggested that the deal he made with the U.S. should serve as a model for any agreement with Iran. Robert Joseph provides some useful background:

Gaddafi had convinced himself that Libya would be next on the U.S. target list after Iraq. There was no reason or need to threaten Libya with bombing as Gaddafi was quick to tell almost every visitor that he did not want to be Saddam Hussein. The images of Saddam being pulled from his spider hole . . . played on his mind.

President Bush’s goal was to have Libya serve as an alternative model to Iraq. Instead of war, proliferators would give up their nuclear programs in exchange for relief from economic and political sanctions.

Any outcome that permits Iran to enrich uranium at any level will fail the one standard that President Trump has established: Iran will not be allowed to have a nuclear weapon. Limiting enrichment even to low levels will allow Iran to break out of the agreement at any time, no matter what the agreement says.

Iran is not a normal government that observes the rules of international behavior or fair “dealmaking.” This is a regime that relies on regional terror and brutal repression of its citizens to stay in power. It has a long history of using negotiations to expand its nuclear program. Its negotiating tactics are clear: extend the negotiations as long as possible and meet any concession with more demands.