For several years, to facilitate those who wish to boycott the Jewish state, German neo-Nazi parties have endorsed special labeling for Israeli imports. Now the call has become mainstream, as Benjamin Weinthal writes:

European Union countries [have called for the labeling of] products from settlements in disputed territories in the West Bank and the Golan Heights, as well as in east Jerusalem. If labeling Jewish goods sounds darkly reminiscent, it does as well to Germany’s neo-Nazi groups, who have recently co-opted the country’s BDS movement.

[L]abeling goods from east Jerusalem is a brazen act of economic warfare from Europe, and one that violates the principles of the very peace process Europe claims to promote. The 1993 Oslo Accords between Israel and the Palestinians said merely that Jerusalem is a subject for final-status negotiations, not a “settlement.” The European Union itself defines Jerusalem as a corpus separatum—a “separate body” whose status is subject to negotiation—rather than occupied territory. More broadly, the drive to label Israeli merchandise has allowed Germany’s resurgent far-right to push its way to the front of the anti-Israel movement.

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.