Israel has historically refrained from seeking one of the rotating seats on the United Nations Security Council, and was effectively prevented from doing so from 1961 until 2000. But it has now expressed interest in running for a seat in 2018. Michal Hatuel-Radoshitzky argues that it would be wise to do so:

The most significant [benefit of Security Council] membership . . . is international recognition. Particularly for states such as Israel, whose [legitimacy is constantly being questioned], even if access to real influence would be minimal, . . . council membership [nonetheless] confers status and recognition on a state, increasing the prestige of its diplomats both in New York and around the world. . . .

With this in mind, Israel would be wise to develop a well thought-out strategy in order to pursue a seat on the Security Council. In fact, in June 2016, Israel won an election to chair the United Nations’ legal committee, marking the first time that it will head one of the UN’s six permanent committees since joining the organization in 1949. This development signifies a welcome shift in Israeli policy from dismissing the UN as biased against Israel to engaging [it] and striving to create change from within.

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.