In the 19th century, a group of German Jewish university students decided to apply the new methods of academic history and critical scholarship to the past of their own people, creating what they dubbed Wissenschaft des Judentums—Jewish studies. Although these groundbreaking scholars had tremendous regard for the accomplishments of medieval Spanish Jewry, they tended to downplay the history of Sephardim in the modern era. A Bosnian Jew named Moshe David Gaon (1889–1958) dedicated much of his life to remedying that situation, as Yoel Finkelman writes:

Central . . . to Gaon’s project was gathering and creating new sources of knowledge, and this meant reaching out to sources of information far and wide. His extensive archive reflects the work he did in creating a bibliography, particularly of important Ladino newspapers. It documents his groundbreaking work on the influential Ladino biblical commentary, Me’am Loez. Gaon published works of Sephardi Hebrew poetry, and he gathered biographies of influential Sephardi rabbis. His most important work is Yehudei ha-Mizraḥ b’Erets Yisrael (1928), a compendium of information on Sephardi Jewry in the Land of Israel. It remains an important reference work today, and it has been reprinted several times.

Gaon also kept his finger on the pulse of current events, asking colleagues for documentation of their own experiences in real time. When, in 1934, a man in the city of Basra in Iraq claimed to be the messiah, Gaon immediately brought his letter-writing skills to bear on documenting the event. Writing in the name of the Sephardi Community Council, Gaon insisted on getting as much information as possible about the man, his motivations, and the community’s response to his messianic pretentions.

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.