In this week’s Torah reading of Koraḥ (Numbers 16-18), the title character leads a revolt against Moses, accusing him of corruptly giving his brother Aaron the position of high priest. The rebellion ends when the earth opens and swallows Koraḥ and his closest associates, and a heavenly fire consumes the rest of his followers. Understanding Koraḥ as an “archetypal populist,” Jonathan Sacks seeks to learn from the aftermath of the revolt:

First Koraḥ [claims that] the establishment (Moses and Aaron) is corrupt. Moses has been guilty of nepotism in appointing his own brother as high priest. He has kept the leadership roles within his immediate family instead of sharing them out more widely. Second, Koraḥ presents himself as the people’s champion. “The whole community,” he says, “is holy.” There is nothing special about you, Moses and Aaron. We have all seen God’s miracles and heard His voice. We all helped build His sanctuary. Koraḥ is posing as the democrat so that he can become the autocrat. . . .

For once in his life, Moses acted autocratically, putting God, as it were, to the test [by predicting a miraculous death for the rebels before hearing God’s response]. . . . Yet this dramatic effort at conflict resolution by the use of force failed completely. The . . . people, despite their terror, were unimpressed. “On the next day, however, the whole congregation of the Israelites rebelled against Moses and against Aaron, saying, ‘You have killed the people of the Lord’” (Numbers 17:6). Jews have always resisted autocratic leaders.

What is even more striking is the way the sages framed the conflict. Instead of seeing it as a black-and-white contrast between rebellion and obedience, they insisted on the validity of argument in the public domain. They said that what was wrong with Koraḥ and his fellows was not that they argued with Moses and Aaron, but that they did so “not for the sake of Heaven.” . . .

Judaism does not silence dissent: to the contrary, it dignifies it. This was institutionalized in the biblical era in the form of the prophets [and in] the rabbinic era it lived in the culture of argument evident on every page of the Mishnah, Talmud, and their commentaries. In the contemporary state of Israel, argumentativeness is part of the very texture of its democratic freedom, in the strongest possible contrast to much of the rest of the Middle East.

Before exploding electronics in Lebanon seized the attention of the Israeli public, debate there had focused on the Philadelphi Corridor—the strip of land between Gaza and Egypt—and whether the IDF can afford to withdraw from it. Egypt has opposed Israeli control of the corridor, which is crucial to Hamas’s supply lines, and Egyptian objections likely prevented Israel from seizing it earlier in the war. Yet, argues Mariam Wahba, Egypt in the long run only stands to lose by letting Hamas use the corridor, and has proved incapable of effectively sealing it off:

Ultimately, this moment presents an opportunity for the United States to hold Egypt’s feet to the fire.

To press Cairo, the United States should consider conditioning future aid on Cairo’s willingness to cooperate. This should include a demand for greater transparency and independent oversight to verify Egyptian claims about the tunnels. Congress ought to hold hearings to understand better Egypt’s role and its compliance as a U.S. ally. Despite Secretary of State Antony Blinken’s nine trips to the Middle East since the start of the war, there has been little clarity on how Egypt intends to fulfill its role as a mediator.

By refusing to acknowledge Israel’s legitimate security concerns, Egypt is undermining its own interests, prolonging the war in Gaza, and further destabilizing its relationship with Jerusalem. It is time for Egyptian leaders either to admit their inability to secure the border and seek help from Israel and America, or to risk being perceived as enablers of Hamas and its terrorist campaign.