According to a recent report by the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), the number of anti-Semitic incidents in the United States increased dramatically in 2015, but it is “not clear what may have led to the spike.” Stefan Kanfer comments:

Not a single statement has issued from the Oval Office about attacks on Jews in the United States or on foreign turf. . . . Nor has Obama referred to the uptick in anti-Semitic episodes in academia. . . . Today, the anti-Semitism of the Third Reich continues in the groves of higher education, often cloaked in pro-Palestinian rhetoric. The vocabulary of the academic left brims with agitprop about “Zionist malevolence,” though many countries within rocket distance of the most liberal nation in the Middle East are notorious for the stoning of apostates, rape victims, and homosexuals.

Only the naïve, and the willfully ignorant, could fail to see another reason why anti-Semitism has increased both overseas and in America. The ADL recently did a survey of religious and ethnic bias in 101 countries. Anti-Jewish sentiment was most prevalent in North Africa and the Middle East, where 74 percent of respondents expressed anti-Semitic views. In those countries, millions are taught that Jews are subhuman, or a dangerous and controlling force in geopolitics—or both. Now, many of those millions are pouring into Europe and America—legally or illegally—welcomed by governments that pay scant attention to their background.

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.