After last spring’s sickening displays on college campuses, and the resultant congressional hearings, this school year many universities are seeking to do more to protect Jewish students, or at least to appear to do more. Northwestern University saw some especially ugly student protests, which included a poster depicting the school president Michael Schill with horns and with his face dripping blood. But Northwestern’s newest policies, writes Tal Fortgang, are unlikely to make much of a difference, although they are likely to serve as a model for other schools:

Schill announced that Northwestern would provide “expanded resources” and “educational opportunities” to combat “anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, and other forms of hate.” At the heart of the plan: “Mandatory trainings on anti-Semitism and other forms of hate will be used in September at incoming student orientation and over the fall quarter for all returning students.”

Even leaving aside Northwestern’s inability to admit that it has a specific and ongoing problem with Jew hatred, the plan demonstrates that the school, like so many others, fundamentally misunderstands or refuses to confront the particular brand of anti-Semitism now infecting elite institutions. Consider the students or faculty responsible for caricaturing Schill as a bloodthirsty demon. They may or may not have known that they were invoking anti-Semitic tropes. But their motives were ideological: they believed no one, in good faith, could support what they believe is a “settler-colonialist” and “genocidal” Zionist entity.

To the vandals, no good-faith disagreements could be had about the history of the region and competing claims to the land. Rather, they believed that Schill is an apologist for colonialism and genocide, who sides with the oppressors out of sheer venality.

The best way for colleges to deal with their anti-Semitism problem—aside from having a zero-tolerance policy for students who engage in organized rule-breaking—is to stop teaching that all conflict should be viewed through the lens of oppression analysis.

Noah Rothman provides a worthwhile reminder of why a nuclear Iran is a threat not just to Israel, but to the United States:

For one, Iran is the foremost state sponsor of terrorism on earth. It exports terrorists and arms throughout the region and beyond, and there are no guarantees that it won’t play a similarly reckless game with nuclear material. At minimum, the terrorist elements in Iran’s orbit would be emboldened by Iran’s new nuclear might. Their numbers would surely grow, as would their willingness to court risk.

Iran maintains the largest arsenal of ballistic missiles in the region. It can certainly deliver a warhead to targets inside the Middle East, and it’s fast-tracking the development of space-launch vehicles that can threaten the U.S. mainland. Even if Tehran were a rational actor that could be reliably deterred, an acknowledged Iranian bomb would kick-start a race toward nuclear proliferation in the region. The Saudis, the Turks, the Egyptians, and others would probably be compelled to seek their own nuclear deterrents, leading to an infinitely more complex security environment.

In the meantime, Iran would be able to blackmail the West, allowing it occasionally to choke off the trade and energy exports that transit the Persian Gulf and to engage in far more reckless acts of international terrorism.

As for the possible consequences, Rothman observes:

Iranian retaliation might be measured with the understanding that if it’s not properly calibrated, the U.S. and Israel could begin taking out Iranian command-and-control targets next. If the symbols of the regime begin crumbling, the oppressed Iranian people might find the courage to finish the job. If there’s anything the mullahs fear more than the U.S. military, it’s their own citizens.