Last weekend, the Wagner Group—a private military organization created and employed by the Kremlin—engaged in an abortive mutiny against the Russian military, which resulted in Wagner’s head, Yevgeny Prigozhin, going into exile and his army coming under the auspices the Russian Ministry of Defense (MOD). Well before its much-publicized involvement in Ukraine, Wagner fought alongside the pro-Iranian coalition in Syria, as well as in various conflicts in the North and Central Africa. Anna Borshchevskaya, Ben Fishman, and Andrew Tabler explain the implications of recent events for the Middle East:

The crisis [in Russia] is already having ripple effects in Syria, with multiple reports of tensions and confrontations between Wagner and MOD personnel. Russian forces have arrested some Wagner commanders and raided the group’s offices in various parts of Syria. Meanwhile, the Russian deputy foreign minister Sergey Vershinin met with the Syrian president Bashar al-Assad on June 26 and reportedly urged him to prevent the group’s forces from leaving the country without the MOD’s consent.

The overall situation remains calm, however, and Wagner is still deployed in resource-rich areas where Assad’s forces are nominally in control but rely on help from Russian military and police units. . . . If the Wagner crisis tips Russia’s local military posture more definitively toward MOD forces, it may further complicate recent U.S. efforts to manage aggressive flyovers and mock raids by Russian forces throughout eastern Syria, potentially increasing the risk of direct confrontations.

Yet even though Putin, the MOD, and Prigozhin all appear weakened by this week’s crisis, there has been no discernible change in Russia’s posture in the Middle East and Africa so far, and none may be forthcoming. Moscow invested heavily in Wagner for years, and simply replacing its presence abroad would be difficult in the short term; more likely, Wagner and other Russian private military companies will evolve rather than disappear.

Even so, U.S. policymakers can still take advantage of the current disarray and look for ways to limit Wagner’s foreign influence. These efforts should extend beyond existing sanctions, which have had only limited effects on the group’s criminal and destabilizing activities.

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.