When the Palestinian Authority (PA) was established by the Oslo Accords in the 1990s, it governed the Gaza Strip as well as parts of the West Bank. In 2006, the Hamas takeover of Gaza effectively severed the two territories. Now, writes Sean Durns, there are growing signs that Mahmoud Abbas—the Fatah party leader and PA president—is starting to lose control of the West Bank as well:

An octogenarian in the sixteenth year of a four-year term, Abbas has reacted poorly to the growing dissatisfaction of many Palestinians. The Palestinian Authority hasn’t held elections in sixteen years, and its legislative council hasn’t met in more than a decade. Criticism of the regime is often met with imprisonment, savage beatings, and death threats. Economic conditions are poor, and Abbas has steadfastly refused to end the Palestinian Authority’s policy of paying salaries to terrorists.

The last week has seen West Bank family feuds erupting into violence, and the Palestinian Authority has been unable to stop it. Universities under its rule, such as Hebron University and al-Quds University, have had to close temporarily due to violent brawls and shootings. Several Palestinians have been killed. Neighborhoods and homes have been set on fire. Some residents of Hebron have even appealed to King Abdullah of Jordan to send troops to end the street-fighting, claiming that the Palestinian Authority has “lost control of the situation.”

Hamas believes that the West Bank is ripe for the taking. It might be right.

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.