A representative of the Anne Frank Trust, a British-Jewish charity, has agreed to participate on a panel alongside Abdurraheem Green, a prominent anti-Semitic Islamist preacher. To make matters worse, the event is part of Green’s campaign to present the organization he runs as respectable. Samuel Westrop writes:

Green has spoken of a “Yehudi . . . stench” and urged Muslims to “push [the Jews] to the side.” In addition, he encourages men to hit their wives to “bring them to goodness,” and has called for the killing of homosexuals and adulterers.

The event on May 21 is part of a broader “anti-racism” campaign launched by . . . [Green’s] Islamic Education and Research Academy (iERA), . . . [which] describes itself as “a global [proselytizing] organization” that works “to empower Muslims as individuals and local communities to invite and inform people about Islam.” In truth, the iERA is one of Britain’s most extreme Islamist groups. . . . In 2013, five members of an iERA youth group . . . left for Syria to join the Islamic State terrorist group. . . .

Well-intentioned activists often treat the notion of “dialogue” as an unassailable good. More often than not, however, Islamist groups merely regard these activists as useful dupes on whom to advance extremist agendas. Unfortunately, as history shows, providing extremists with a platform only serves to legitimize “anti-racism” and interfaith initiatives that openly promote illiberal and anti-democratic agendas.

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.