A front-page story on European anti-Semitism appeared in the New York Times in September. It contained, as Matthew Continetti notes, “no breaking news, no revelations, no surprising analyses, and no startling perspectives.” Nor did the paper draw any connection between its “discovery” of a resurgence of anti-Semitism and the poisoned climate of opinion fostered in European—or American—media, prominently including the Times itself, with their constant and relentless harping on the alleged sins of of the state of Israel. But that connection, writes Continetti, is inescapable and pernicious:

Throw a dart, and it will land on a publication or media company whose feelings toward Israel are, in a word, bellicose. The Independent, the Guardian, the Economist, the BBC, the Washington Post, the New Yorker, the Atlantic Monthly, Vox, NPR, PBS, CNN, MSNBC, Time, Newsweek, the Lancet—they all portray Israel as rapacious and the Palestinians as helpless victims of Jewish sadism. Their fixation on Israel becomes a fixation on Jews that creates a noxious climate of opinion, breeding conspiracy theories, accusations of dual loyalties, intimidation, even violence.

And when these fumes come “out of the shadows,” and make contact with an environment in which anti-Zionists and anti-Semites reside, the hazards, as we see in the Middle East and in Europe, are real. And they are deadly.

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.