Last week, Turkey sent substantial ground forces into Syria, ostensibly with the aim of doing battle against Islamic State (IS)—thus earning praise from Joseph Biden, who also made a point of calling for Kurdish withdrawal from areas where Turkey plans to attack the terrorist group. The news, on its face, allays longstanding concerns that Istanbul has been apathetic to IS and has perhaps even helped it. In fact, writes Christopher Caldwell, President Erdogan’s goals haven’t changed—as Biden himself surely knows:

Turkey’s strategic objective is not to “crush” IS. It is to crush the most effective part of the anti-IS coalition: the Syrian-Kurdish Democratic Union party and People’s Protection Units. . . .

Turkey [has so far] cleared out the IS-held town of Jarabulus, on its border. Had it not done so, the Kurds would have. . . . The anti-IS part of the Turkish operation was over before it started. . . .

Supporting Turkey’s desire for the neutralization [of Kurdish forces] is a quo for which one can only assume America is somehow getting a quid. Perhaps it involves the European refugee crisis, which Turkey is helping to stem, but at an ever-mounting price. Apparently that price is nobody’s business but the Turks’.

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.