The workers’ unions of today had ancient predecessors known as workers’ guilds, which helped groups of tradespeople—merchants, writers, artisans—negotiate for pay and represent themselves to the wider body politic. (Modern universities are in part a result of worker’s guilds; some of them, like the University of Bologna, originated as guilds of students.) Going by a recent archaeological discovery, there may even have existed a guild of craftsmen in ancient Jerusalem whose members identified themselves with the legendary Greek craftsman Daedalus.

As John Drummond writes, an inscription was discovered on a limestone column in Jerusalem from the Herodian period, the late first century BCE to the early first century CE. The inscription reads “Hananiah son of Daedalus, from Jerusalem.”

The inscription was written in square Hebrew script in a formal commemorative style that was executed with the precision of a master engraver. As discussed by Aaron Demsky in his article “Daedalus in Jerusalem” in the Fall 2023 issue of Biblical Archaeology Review, the inscribed name likely refers to one of the artisans that operated in the workshop or possibly one of the builders. If so, the fact that Hananiah refers to himself as the “son of Daedalus” raises some intriguing possibilities.

In antiquity, groups of artisans frequently took on the moniker of the legendary heroes of their craft. For instance, a group of poets from the isle of Chiros called themselves the “sons of Homer.” Like Homer, the craftsmanship of Daedalus was legendary. While his greatest accomplishment was likely constructing the famed Labyrinth of King Minos of Crete, Daedalus was also said to have engineered the contraption that Minos’s queen, Pasiphae, used in her exploits that resulted in the birth of the Minotaur. Perhaps the best-known story involving Daedalus concerns his famous son, Icarus, who flew too close to the sun using the wax wings that his father had designed for him and subsequently plummeted to his death.

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.