Examining three locales in the West Bank nominally under PA jurisdiction—the Hebron area, Nablus, and Ramallah—Pinhas Inbari finds that alternative sources of authority are challenging the rule of Mahmoud Abbas and the PA, with rival groups and villages moving in different political directions:

In Hebron . . . the large clans . . . have [joined forces], reestablished the Tribal Council of Mount Hebron [that existed in the pre-Oslo days], and sent a delegation to Amman to express loyalty to the king of Jordan under the Jordanian flag.

In Ramallah, the PA’s de-facto seat of government, Europe seeks to organize a phalanx of “non-governmental” organizations (NGOs) as a political force. This effort is opposed by the PA, which wants the NGOs to be under its control. . . . Nablus, for its part, has gone into a tailspin of total anarchy. It is under the rule of gangs, with exchanges of gunfire in the heart of the city and attempts at political assassinations. . . .

[There is also the case of] Sei’r, [in the vicinity of Hebron, which] is considered a “Fatah village.” It is [under the control] of Abbas Zaki, a member of the Fatah central committee and one of the more extreme Fatah figures; he calls for forging ties with Iran. Indeed, the highest number of knife attackers who met their deaths came from Sei’r.

However, . . . when the militant governor of Hebron, Kamel Hmeid, came to the village to praise it for its “sacrifice,” he was surprised to find that the village notables had summoned him to a discussion behind closed doors in which they demanded that he stop sending the youths of the village to their deaths. Indeed, since then, the village of Sei’r has ceased to dispatch knife attackers. . . .

Nevertheless, the Islamic parties set the tone in Hebron.

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.