By that time, according to an official statement, Israel was self-producing about one-fifth of its defense requirements.9 This does not mean that building up the military industries was always easy. During the fifties and sixties Israel was—and regarded itself—as a small, dirt-poor, out-of-the-way country, with the result that those trying to build a native manufacturing capability were often perceived as visionaries or worse. The IDF itself was not always cooperative; from the Gavriel missile in the sixties through the Lavi fighter in the eighties to the Chets antiballistic missile in the early nineties, it doubted the ability of native industry to provide it and preferred to look abroad for its requirements. Other bones of contention that arose included the division of tasks between the IDF and industry; for example, whether third-echelon maintenance should be carried out by the IAF or IAI and whether RAFAEL should be allowed to go into manufacturing and thereby occupy a niche competing with other firms. Finally, as the arms industry expanded and became more sophisticated during the seventies and eighties, it sometimes excited the ire of its U.S. counterpart. The Americans feared, not entirely without justification, that by helping the Israelis develop technology, the United States was simply financing its own competition.10
Yet the factor that caused the greatest expansion of the arms industry was the Six Day War of June 1967, which left the IDF with a large amount of captured Soviet weapons including tanks, light armored vehicles, artillery, and small arms—not to mention mountains of miscellaneous equipment. Not all proved suitable for Israeli use, but some did, and soon after the war TAAS started producing ammunition for Kalashnikov assault rifles as well as shells for 130mm field guns; by 1970, according to Peres, self-sufficiency in all sorts of ammunition had been achieved.11 Adapting captured T-54 and T-55 tanks to carry the armored corps’s standard 105mm gun was more difficult; it too was accomplished, albeit at the cost of reducing the tanks’ already limited ammunition payload. Other major tasks carried out in the wake of the Six Day War included the conversion of gasoline-engine tanks to diesel and 90mm guns to 105mm guns.
From the industry’s point of view, an even more important outcome of the Six Day War was the imposition of a French arms embargo, which was later extended to near total. This gave the proponents of native development the rationale they had been looking for.12 Israel and the IDF, it was argued, constituted a large enough market to justify efforts aimed at attaining self-sufficiency in a very large number of fields, from webbing and ammunition to spare parts to small and even medium arms. As to major weapons systems, complete autonomy clearly was out of reach; even much larger and richer countries such as Britain, Italy, and Germany began pooling their resources during the seventies to develop such systems as the Tornado fighter-bomber. With outside help, however, it might be possible to develop one major weapons system for each field. Since Israeli labor costs remained lower than elsewhere the price was expected to be bearable. Apart from the political advantages of extending the country’s breadth in case of embargo, it would develop the economy, provide employment, and save hard currency (Israel was always short).
In fact, Israel during these years was flexing its military manufacturing muscle on a scale that had a very significant impact on its own economy (although still small by world standards). As a result, between 1966 and 1968, TAAS’s sales alone rose 74 percent.13 By 1972 investment in the arms industry was three and a half times greater than in 1967, and between 1968 and 1974 the electronics and metal-working industries together absorbed one-third of all industrial investments made in Israel.14 Simultaneously the proportion of industrial workers employed in defense doubled from under 10 percent to 19 percent. Even this was nothing compared to what followed: The value of military industrial output rose from $500 million in 1974 to $1,400 million in 1980 to $2,250 million in 1984.15 By that time defense took up 40 percent of metal demand and 50 percent of electronics demand;16 having doubled since 1972, the number of employees reached 62,500 and accounted for one-quarter of all employees in industry.17
Compared to its foreign competitors, Israel’s military industries enjoyed several advantages. Though tucked away in the Middle East and by no means a First World country, from an educational and professional point of view Israel was far ahead of the developing world. Its scientific and engineering elite was better than anything to be found between Rome and Tokyo but cost much less to train and maintain than its counterparts in the West.18 General conscription, the existence of the reserve system, and the country’s small size meant that this elite was not detached from military affairs, often the case in Western countries in particular. Instead it was intimately involved with the defense establishment; if the scientist or engineer no longer served in the IDF, his or her children almost certainly did. Finally, the October War in 1973 and the numerous skirmishes that followed provided combat experience unmatched by other countries in scale and modernity. In effect, Israel during the mid- to late seventies had become one huge military laboratory.
Owing to the high cost of research and development, which has to be spread among as many products as possible, the modern economics of arms production often depends on the ability to export. However, exporting major weapons systems from Israel was difficult given its position as a pariah state; after the 1973 war so many countries had severed diplomatic relations with Israel that the number of foreign embassies fell to around thirty. In the event a handful of Kfir fighter-bombers were sold to several bargain-hunting Latin American countries. A few more Kfirs went to the United States, which substituted them for MIG-21s in air-to-air combat simulations, the characteristics of the two being remarkably similar. That apart, the fact that many foreign military establishments simply could not afford to display the “Made in Israel” label placed a damper on the export of major weapons systems.
But these factors did not apply with the same force to sale of other military equipment. The list of direct customers included dozens of countries on every continent; the list of products, everything from patrol boats, missiles, and electronic equipment down to humble small arms, pistols, and ammunition.19 Like the notorious arms dealer Sir Basil Zaharoff decades earlier, Israel often did business with both sides of a conflict: Taiwan and Communist China, Chile and Argentina, and Peru and Ecuador, for example. 20 The upgrade kits that Israeli industry developed for aircraft and tanks also showed a potential for export. They appealed to Third World countries, which sought to modernize their own order of battle without breaking the bank; for example, providing active armor for an old tank cost only $10,000, compared to $1-2 million for a new unit.21 Quantitatively speaking the total export sales in question are said to have risen from $200 million in 1974 to $1,200 million in 1980 (how this may be reconciled with the previously cited total output of $1,400 million in the same year is not clear) to $1,400 million in 1984. By that time defense accounted for 40 percent of all industrial exports, excluding diamonds.22
The first complete major weapons system to be produced in Israel was the Kfir in the early seventies, which was not original or able to match the new generation of U.S. combat aircraft then coming into service, the F-15s and F-16s. Seeking the ability to design and develop aircraft from scratch, IAI during the late sixties started work on two other machines, the Arava and the Westwind. The former was a light transport aircraft especially adapted to operating from the short, primitive runways that might be found near the battlefield or in less-developed countries. The latter was a twin-engine executive jet, its design having been purchased from a U.S. firm; IAI converted it to a naval patrol aircraft by adding complex electronics in the nose. It was intended that both aircraft would also be exported, but in the event sales proved disappointing; by 1976 neither plane had even remotely approached the break-even point and the huge losses that ensued led to the resignation of IAI’s founder, Al Schwimmer.23 All the while the company was sinking money into the design of an advanced Israeli-designed fighter-bomber. The idea that the IAF’s combat structure should have two tiers—a few high-perfor
mance aircraft and many less sophisticated machines—had originated with Ezer Weizman when he commanded the air force in the 1960s. As minister of defense, he pushed for its realization.
Originally, the Lavi, as the aircraft was called, was a small, lightweight fighter-bomber intended to replace the nearly obsolete Skyhawks and Kfirs at reasonable cost. Later, though, technical considerations caused refinement after refinement. Like counterparts elsewhere, Israeli engineers found it difficult to resist building the best and most advanced machine; but whenever they thought they had achieved it a new and even more promising technical advance appeared on the horizon, begging to be incorporated. 24 Consequently the aircraft grew until it became something like a little brother of the F-16; one can imagine Begin’s bemusement when, during his term as minister of defense, he was called upon to decide whether the two aircraft should share the same engine. Under Sharon its prospects continued to look good, and in 1983 they improved again when the defense portfolio was taken over by Moshe Arens. Former IAI director, he liked the Lavi for its own qualities and for the potential impact its development would have on Israel’s high-tech industry.
At this point the project ran into problems. The United States much preferred that the IAF purchase U.S.-made aircraft, and consequently it limited, though never completely prohibited, the conversion of military aid into Israeli currency. As Israel went into an economic recession in 1983-1984, the IAF was forced to cut back the number of Lavis it intended to purchase by more than one-half, from 350-400 to 150-200. As a result, per-unit price shot up, and it became imperative that the aircraft be exported so as to recover the development costs. However, the United States controlled much of the technology earmarked for the Lavi, including besides the engine the advanced composite materials for the airframe and wings. Hence prospects for exporting the Lavi, if completed, depended entirely on U.S. approval. When Rabin, who was strongly pro-American and since the sixties had opposed many native arms production projects, took over from Arens in 1984, the writing was on the wall. A year into office, he decided to cancel the Lavi and purchase F-16s instead.25
Although efforts to build a fighter-bomber did not yield fruit, Israel did produce a major weapons system, the Merkava tank. Tal in the sixties had developed an armored doctrine that differed significantly from that of other armies. The latter regarded mobility as the key and talked about using tanks on the offensive (although they never actually did so until 1991). Not so the IDF, which, considering the tank’s greatest advantage to be protection under fire, preferred to fight defensively behind cover whenever possible. However, the U.S. M-60 was one of the tallest tanks ever produced and thus was not really suitable for that purpose. It had several other weaknesses, among them comparatively weak armor; a large and therefore easy-to-hit turret; and a tendency, which it shared with older U.S. tanks, to go up in flames when hit.
Accordingly, when the Merkava was unveiled it displayed some highly unusual features. The engine, the same 900-horsepower one as used in the M-60, was located in the front instead of the rear, thus placing several extra tons of steel between glacis and crew. The extra room allowed for a large compartment that, for the sake of rapid turnover, was capable of being loaded with ammunition from a forklift; it could also be used to transport several infantrymen or to carry a casualty or two. The turret was exceptionally well designed, flat and tapered. Like the Uzi in its time, the fifty-something-ton monster could almost stand as a metaphor for the IDF; wits claimed that it had a big body, a small head, and a gigantic....
The Merkava, with its 105mm gun, laser range finder, computerized fire-control system, and TAAS-designed, elongated “Arrow” armor-piercing ammunition, was able to take on any enemy tank, including the Soviet-made T-72 with its enormous 125mm gun. Even so, it merely was the centerpiece of Israel’s effort to upgrade its armor by means of native industries. In 1956 and 1967 the ratio of forces to space in the Middle East had been relatively low, permitting the IDF to wend through the less mobile Arab formations and attack from unexpected directions. This was much less the case in 1973 when the Golan front in particular had been crowded chock-a-block with units and weapons, leaving no gap uncovered and forcing the advance on Damascus to be made in the teeth of tenacious Syrian resistance. Considering its own subsequent growth and that of the enemy the IDF expected the future battlefield to be more crowded still; it would, to use a favorite phrase of the time, be “saturated with fire.”26 Accordingly it was necessary to find new means for protecting not only the Merkavas but the other tanks as well.
When they were put on display in the early eighties, the IDF’s U.S.built M-48s and M-60s had sprouted curious protrusions, like short horns with holes. The mystery was solved when Israel invaded Lebanon. A major surprise of the October War was the Sagger antitank guided missiles, used by Egyptian and Syrian infantry to stop the previously unstoppable Israeli tanks. The Israeli armor was designed to resist tungsten bolts fired from high-velocity guns, but it proved vulnerable to the “hollow” warheads that tipped the Saggers. Whereas the Merkava had been designed to overcome that problem, the IDF’s other tanks had to be adapted by adding “active” armor. Active armor used explosives inside flat boxes made of thin steel; they were designed to deflect the jet of gas that resulted when a hollow warhead hit its target. Screwed onto the above-mentioned protrusions, active armor made the tanks look like a man in an inflatable swimsuit.
When the IDF marched into Lebanon, only the tanks and self-propelled artillery had received the new protection. Not so the mechanized infantry; with aluminum-covered M-113s, the men discovered they were death traps—when hit by a hollow warhead they would burst into flame. Accordingly the APCs received a layer of Israeli-made active armor, which added weight and in time made it necessary to re-engine them. Not content with this, Tal pushed for the adoption of heavier carriers truly capable of marching alongside tanks on the fire-soaked battlefield. The result was the NAGMASHA (the feminine of NAGMASH, the Hebrew acronym for APC), a unique Israeli contraption with no foreign equivalent. Its hull consisted of a modified Centurion tank with the turret removed and the interior adapted to carry infantry and their weapons (e.g., machine guns and antitank missiles).
Less visible than combat aircraft and tanks, the systems developed to counter the Arab antiaircraft defenses represented revolutionary technology. Understandably, not much was said about the subject during the seventies, but when the IDF next went into action it unveiled a series of new technologies. They ranged from humble flares—designed to mislead heatseeking air-to-ground missiles—to electronic jammers to ground-to-air missiles that locked on enemy radar and stayed locked even after the radar was switched off. Some older planes were fitted with new radar built by Elta, others with modern navigation and computerized ordnance-dropping systems. To orchestrate this technology the IAF needed an entirely new network of command, communications, and control. That, too, was accomplished, with the result that in 1982 the gigantic system functioned like clockwork.
Another product that attracted attention during the Lebanon War was remotely piloted vehicles (RPVs). In 1973 the Israelis often suffered from lack of tactical intelligence as heavy enemy fire prevented aircraft and ground units from gathering it. Thus two different companies, IAI and Tadiran, started work on two different RPVs. In some ways the contraptions exemplified Israel’s defense industry at its best; developed in close cooperation with the IDF, they were simple, robust, and well adapted for use under field conditions; owing to the use of off-the-shelf components (such as wheels taken from baby carriages) they were also cheap. The original models carried television cameras that relayed pictures to the operators, literally enabling them to see events on the other side of the hill. Later models were provided with laser range finders, which permitted them to act as artillery spotters. Other models carried radar-jamming equipment or carried out kamikaze strikes against enemy radar stations. The RPV family of weapons proved a hit, and many models were exported.
A shipping indu
stry had long been developing near Haifa, Israel’s major port and largest industrial center. Though it never had the capacity to construct large oceangoing vessels, it was capable of overhauling the navy’s missile boats and building small vessels from scratch. During the seventies and early eighties it constructed hulls for the second- and third-generation missile boats. The engines still had to be imported, as were some of the weapons systems. Other systems, including of course the new versions of the Gavriel missile, were produced in Israel, as were the radar, computers, and electronic countermeasures designed to protect ships from enemy missiles such as the French Exocet, made famous during the Anglo-Argentine Falklands War. With Israel’s navy supplying most all of its workload, the company that built the missile boats, Mispenot Yisael, later went bankrupt. This did not prevent other companies, such as MABAT (Mifalim Bitchoniyim, an IAI subsidiary), from manufacturing smaller patrol boats, some of which were exported.
Perhaps the most important component of Israel’s arms manufacturing was also the least visible. This book, based mostly on non-Israeli sources, has already discussed the acquisition of nuclear weapons, an objective apparently achieved by 1967 (even though the devices at the time may have been too crude for operational use).27 Based on calculations pertaining to the size of the reactor that had been provided by France, during the decade or so after 1973, foreign experts assumed that Israel was capable of producing enough plutonium for approximately two or three devices per year. By the mid-eighties this should have resulted in a modest arsenal numbering perhaps thirty to forty bombs28 (although Israel, in a formula first developed under Eshkol, still insisted that it would not be the first to introduce them into the Middle East). In 1979 a flash in the Indian Ocean picked up by a U.S. satellite was widely interpreted as a joint Israeli-South African nuclear test. The Israelis, however, denied that they had tested a weapon, and the United States backed them up, saying the satellite might have been faulty.29
The Sword And The Olive Page 37