Riyadh’s announcement last week that it will begin issuing drivers’ licenses to women, writes Andrew Bernard, is very much in tune with the kingdom’s larger plan for economic and social reform known as “Vision 2030.” But, he argues, the change that’s really needed in Saudi Arabia requires steps that the country’s rulers seem unwilling to take:

The driving ban is one of many examples where Saudi Arabia is going to have to carry out reforms that Saudis regard as radical but that are already taken for granted virtually everywhere else in the world. . . .

Vision 2030 can basically be summarized as “Be more like the United Arab Emirates.” . . . Unfortunately, it’s an example that Saudi Arabia will likely find impossible to emulate. One critical element of the UAE’s success, for example, has been in drawing 15 million tourists each year. . . . Leaving aside that alcohol is banned in Saudi Arabia, leaving aside that men and women can’t bathe together in Saudi Arabia, leaving aside all of the other reasons why tourists would obviously prefer to go the UAE, or Jordan, or Israel among all of Saudi’s would-be tourism rivals—Saudi Arabia does not issue tourist visas. . . .

Saudi Arabia’s reticence to enact even basic social reforms calls into question the viability of the entire economic project. All of that is before considering those reforms that would also require real investment, like overhauling the kingdom’s abysmal education system.

Americans might balk at the notion that this is their concern. . . . But American support for the Saudi monarchy, repressive as it is, has always been predicated on the fact that Saudi Arabia without the monarchy would probably be even more religiously radical and dangerous to American interests.

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.