In a memoir of his life in New Square, Shulem Deen tells about leaving a tight-knit ḥasidic community and discovering the outside world. Jessica Kasmer-Jacobs writes in her review:

[A]s the years pass, [Deen] wonders more and more: “Does God exist? Does our faith really contain the universe’s essential truths?” Desperate for guidance, he finds no salve for his growing doubts in the community’s leaders. If anything, he is treated with disdain by those he hoped might offer help. “The evasiveness that characterized so many of the responses,” he writes, “. . . suggested that the answers were a tangled spaghetti of sophistry meant to obfuscate rather than illuminate.” But in a village so small, word travels fast. Mr. Deen’s façade crumbles as his neighbors whisper about what books he reads and wonder whether he prays on the Sabbath.

Mr. Deen’s curiosity grows as quickly as his expanding family. In his early twenties, already the father of two children, he begins sneaking off to the children’s section of the nearby public library, slowly expanding his limited education with touches of the “new world.” From his perch on a tiny orange chair, Mr. Deen leafs through the pages of the World Book Encyclopedia with “heady delight.” . . . He starts listening to the radio in his car and reading newspapers. His wife grows uneasy, worried that her husband “would not be content to transgress alone, but would try to get her to join . . . and reel in the kids.”

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.