Rejecting much conventional wisdom about the possibilities of a two-state solution, Gershon Hacohen argues that any discussion of the Jewish state’s security challenges must begin with a discussion of its values:

Ultimately, one can’t discuss how to defend Israel’s existence without first touching on . . . what it is being defended for. We Israelis are not simply here in order to live securely; promises by U.S. presidents that America will always protect us do not impress me. If all I want is security, I might as well bring the entire population to Tel Aviv and build a huge fortress. Alternatively, I could move to Palo Alto, which has a better quality of life and greater opportunities. A U.S. general who told me that “at the end of the day everyone wants the same things—restaurants that are open until midnight and kids that can get safely to school”—deeply misunderstands me, because I can get all of that in New Jersey. . . .

[W]hen discussing security it’s important to emphasize that something beyond pure security exists, which lies in the realm of values and vision. I believe that the essence of Zionism is to live in the land of Israel, the land of our forefathers. We didn’t come here for a Jewish majority or even for sovereignty but rather simply to live in the land.

After analyzing what he sees as nearly insurmountable challenges to defending Israel effectively with a Palestinian state in the West Bank, Hacohen concludes that he counts himself “among those who believe that Israelis have no chance other than to live together with Arabs.”

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.