Born to an unremarkable Jewish family in Germany, Moses Mendelssohn (1729-1786) acquired both Jewish and general educations and became an active participant in Berlin’s Enlightenment circles, while remaining a strictly observant Jew. He was also a major early proponent of the Haskalah, or Jewish Enlightenment. Throughout his career, he maintained a close friendship with the Gentile philosopher and playwright Gotthold Ephraim Lessing. Yuval Levin, noting the tremendous impact of this friendship on both thinkers, explains the connection between friendship and tolerance in Mendelssohn’s work:

Again and again, Mendelssohn found himself confronted by well-meaning Christians, even friends, who argued that he was simply too wise and sensible to remain a Jew, and pressing him to explain his resistance to their Christianity. He also gave thought to the related set of pressures on the Jewish world more generally in an era of self-confident enlightenment, which threatened to draw Jews away from their traditional communities.

Mendelssohn proposed a set of responses to these broader pressures that combined traditional practice and the confident assertion of the word of God as Jews understood it with a forthright case for toleration in the intellectual sphere. . . . [And] he denied the charge, leveled by some of those who sought his conversion, that the dictates of reason—the very Enlightenment ideals he championed—demanded that he abandon the faith of his fathers. . . .

But toleration, [in Mendelssohn’s view], did not amount to peaceful mutual disdain. It could be much more than that precisely because of friendship. Indeed, the idea of friendship was central to Mendelssohn’s response to the pressures he confronted. Friendship could help avoid turning disagreement into hostility. In making this argument, he flaunted his friendship with Lessing, publishing a kind of essay on friendship (formulated as a letter to Lessing) that offers an intense, idealized treatment of the possibilities of friendship as a source of both intellectual camaraderie and human meaning. It proposes the possibility of intellectual friendship overcoming differences of doctrine and belief without demeaning them, and so serving as a bridge in practice between conflicting and equally unpalatable alternatives that seemed unbridgeable in theory. And it is clearly a response, as well, to the pressures for conversion directed at Mendelssohn—pressures often offered in friendship, but which he implies risked running counter to the very idea of friendship. . . .

[Today], our society’s secular culture is constantly pressing in on those who espouse pre-liberal faiths. What it says—in its most inviting and least hostile forms—is basically that these believers are surely too wise and sensible to remain people of faith. Our progressive society thinks religious people should be able to reason their way to its own practices and beliefs, which it takes to be obvious rational truths, and morally superior, too. It sounds like some of what Mendelssohn heard from his friends.

Concluded in 1979, the Israeli-Egyptian peace treaty ended nearly 30 years of intermittent warfare, and proved one of the most enduring and beneficial products of Middle East diplomacy. But Egypt may not have been upholding its end of the bargain, write Jonathan Schanzer and Mariam Wahba:

Article III, subsection two of the peace agreement’s preamble explicitly requires both parties “to ensure that that acts or threats of belligerency, hostility, or violence do not originate from and are not committed from within its territory.” This clause also mandates both parties to hold accountable any perpetrators of such acts.

Recent Israeli operations along the Philadelphi Corridor, the narrow strip of land bordering Egypt and Gaza, have uncovered multiple tunnels and access points used by Hamas—some in plain sight of Egyptian guard towers. While it could be argued that Egypt has lacked the capacity to tackle this problem, it is equally plausible that it lacks the will. Either way, it’s a serious problem.

Was Egypt motivated by money, amidst a steep and protracted economic decline in recent years? Did Cairo get paid off by Hamas, or its wealthy patron, Qatar? Did the Iranians play a role? Was Egypt threatened with violence and unrest by the Sinai’s Bedouin Union of Tribes, who are the primary profiteers of smuggling, if it did not allow the tunnels to operate? Or did the Sisi regime take part in this operation because of an ideological hatred of Israel?