Until a few years ago, the gradualist old guard of Egypt’s Muslim Brotherhood—the parent organization of Hamas and the precursor to al-Qaeda—was able to sideline both radicals who wanted to start an Islamic revolution immediately and so-called “reformists” urging cooperation with non-Islamists. But, write Eric Trager and Marina Shalabi, since the Brotherhood’s Mohammed Morsi was ousted from power in 2013, the organization has lost its cohesiveness (free registration required):

Although the split within the Brotherhood is partly generational, it also reflects severe differences regarding the organization’s goals and strategy—whether it should seek power now, as the youths demand, or in the distant future, as the [old guard] believes, as well as what tools it should use to assert Islamist rule. Yet these questions are increasingly theoretical. The [Sisi-led] government’s obliteration of the organization within Egypt means that the Brotherhood has no realistic shot at power anytime soon, and its various factions thus have little incentive to reunify in pursuit of shared ambitions.

To be sure, the Brotherhood’s vision for establishing an Islamist state in Egypt won’t evaporate, but the rigid internal discipline that defined its decision-making and mobilization is now a thing of the past.

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.