Possibly because it trusted to its own high prestige—after all, nowhere else are the armed services so vital to the state’s very existence—the IDF has been extremely slow to respond to these developments. As far back as 1957, Ben Gurion (who studied law at Constantinople but never received his degree) argued that every officer needed a higher education and that it should be provided by the army as a matter of right.41 His call went unheeded, and for decades thereafter “professor” was a derogatory reference in the IDF. Although some outstanding officers studied abroad, the quality and prestige of the army’s Command and General Staff College remained low. Some officers, notably Lt. Gen. Ehud Barak (chief of staff, 1992-1994), managed to avoid the staff college altogether, evidently regarding it as a waste of time, intended for those less bright than himself; he preferred to study systems analysis at Stanford University instead.
It was not until the second half of the eighties that the army woke up to the educational deficiencies of its officer corps, not least because the officers often found they were unemployable after being discharged. Efforts to bring them up to civilian standards were made. However, from the beginning it was not a question of serious education so much as finding ways to issue degrees (which in turn resulted in significant pay raises).42 Seeking to increase student intake, which formed the basis for allocation of government funds, most of Israel’s universities closed an eye and cooperated.
Ironically, some of the officers who became university students did not even have their high school diplomas.43 Others, despite scoring poorly on the “psychometric” entrance test governing civilian admissions, were admitted nevertheless. Still others, having spent careers rushing from one incident to the next, might not have read a book in years; the great majority did not have a sufficient command of English to get along in a country where, owing to its small size, almost all readings at the university level are in that language. To get around these difficulties universities often crammed officers through courses specifically designed for them. Alternatively, they granted accreditation for some staff college courses.
Though officers had the road thus smoothed, problems remained. Many who attended university classes en bloc would not take them seriously; instead of learning from teachers they tended to conspire against them. Meanwhile employers, knowing the score, frequently continued to treat discharged soldiers as second-class applicants. After years of halfmeasures, in 1997 every company-grade officer who signs up for the required number of years of continued service in the standing army is given the right to attend the university of choice,44 spending two and a half years studying for a bachelor of arts degree. This should lead to a corresponding rise in the age of commanders at all levels from battalion up.
In theory, attending university ought to make officers more like civilians, 45 and indeed anyone who watches the Kirya (the Tel Aviv neighborhood that houses the general staff) will be amazed at the number of uniformed, briefcase-carrying, thirty-something clerks running about. In practice there is some reason to believe that many IDF officers were moving away from the mainstream, into places where the majority of Israelis do not want to follow. Traditionally it drew more than its share of kibbuts members; indeed, during the post-1967 years of glory learned treatises were written to explain the reasons behind kibbutsniks’ exceptional military qualities.46 During the eighties, however, the kibbuts movement had long passed its prime. Not only was its share among the population falling; instead of being regarded (and regarding itself) as a social elite it gradually adapted bourgeois values (for instance, ending communal dining rooms and introducing wage scales).
Nor were kibbutsniks the only ones to distance themselves from a military career. Against the background of growing economic prosperity and the decline of socialist ideas, the military life held less attraction for Israel’s urban socioeconomic elite, which preferred to go into business or the professions. More and more the place of both groups is being taken by religious youths, so-called kippot sruggot (hand-knit yarmulkes, after their fashion in headgear, which differs from that of the non-Zionist orthodox). Many are graduates of the thirty yeshivot hesder (Talmudic high schools with a strong right-wing nationalist orientation). By virtue of a special arrangement with the IDF, these schools combine military service with study. They provide it to some 3,000 soldiers a year, with no fewer than 750 being considered officer material.47
Like the kibbutsniks in their heyday, kippot sruggot view themselves as an elite selflessly sacrificing individual goals for the sake of wider social goals, which in their case come divinely inspired. Whereas the kibbutsniks in their heyday were generally admired by Israeli society, kippot sruggot are often disliked. Their religious lifestyle is entirely different from that of the secular majority; for them, it is difficult if not impossible to brook such minor matters as operating automatic vending machines on the Sabbath or organizing a singsong (the reason being that under strict Jewish religious law “a female voice is shameful”). Traditionally no great ideological barrier separated the IDF officer corps from civilian society at large.48 However, both kippot sruggot and yeshivot hesder are affiliated with the right-wing MAFDAL Party, which seeks to combine religion with Zionism and regards every inch of Erets Yisrael as sacred, God-given territory to which Israel has an eternal right.
Whereas until the late seventies religious commanders had been as rare as winged cows, in 1996 they constituted almost 50 percent of company-grade officers in combat units.49 From 1995 to 1996 alone the number undergoing pilot training doubled; by one account kippot sruggot are said to make up no less than 30 percent of troops in some combat units.50 The effect is to set up social and ideological barriers between the officers and their secular-minded men, who understandably resent being subjected to all sorts of religious restrictions, as well as between them and society at large. Worse, there have been recent cases where at least some religious officers became torn between the orders of their superiors and rabbinical teachings (for example, during the evacuation of Hebron). Yet as long as the IDF retains its traditional character as an army of short-time conscripts and reservists, any danger this will lead to a coup remains minimal, since presumably the troops would not know whether to open fire for Labor and against Likud or the other way around. However, it is not impossible to imagine a day when a mainly right-wing, orthodox, nationalist officer corps will command an all-volunteer rank and file consisting, as tends to be the case in so many developed countries, primarily of the down-andout. Should that come about, the handwriting clearly will be on the wall.
Until the shift to an all-volunteer army takes place, the combination of universal conscription, a surplus of manpower, and a stagnant order of battle has produced a soft, bloated, frequently undisciplined, and undertrained military instrument that bears little resemblance to the superb fighting machine it once was. The disclosures of the Wald Report, which accused the IDF of having become bloated and were widely denounced when first published, are now regarded almost as holy writ;51 indeed from 1986 on, every successive chief of staff has talked about the need to build a “small and naughty” (Hebrew for lean and mean) army.52 However, each successive chief of staff has failed to pay off on the promise. From 1984 to 1994 the number of major generals went up nineteen to twenty-six, an increase of 36 percent. In the same period, according to a set of figures released by the Knesset Foreign Affairs and Defense Commitee, the number of brigadier generals rose 30 percent, that of colonels 17 percent, that of lieutenant colonels 31 percent, and that of majors almost 100 percent.53 Such was the inflation in ranks that by 1997 it might take a battalion commander to lead a squad of commandos in Lebanon; by comparison, the German officer commanding the eighty commandos who captured the critical fortress of Eben Emael in 1940 was a first lieutenant.54 Farther down the ladder, the number of captains and lieutenants was almost halved. Asked to comment, the IDF spokesmen claimed the problem was being taken care of. 55 All this in an army that has always been justly proud of the quality of its junior officers
and that regarded their courage and readiness for self-sacrifice as the real cause behind its success.
Thanks partly to the scandalously low pay the IDF doled out to conscripts—$ 14 per month—and partly to the fact that Israeli wages were low compared to those of developed countries, in 1974 salaries and personnel expenditures (exclusive of reservists) accounted for a mere 10 percent of the defense budget.56 Twenty years later conscripts were still being scandalously underpaid, but so many officers were receiving such high salaries and retirement pay that the share of personnel expenditures (exclusive of U.S. aid) grew to 50 percent.57 When benefits such as housing, free study, recreation allowances, tax rebates, and exceptionally generous separation payments and pension schemes are factored in, Israeli officers were not underpaid compared to foreign counterparts. Officers from the rank of major up are assigned a car, all expenses paid (a privilege in a country where vehicles and spare parts are taxed 150 percent ad valorem and fuel costs almost $4 per gallon).58 Much of the change reflects the declining attractiveness of the military life. In a rapidly modernizing society, the way to retain high-quality personnel, especially technical and medical, is to pay salaries roughly equivalent to those in the civilian sector.
With its structure in some disarray and its fighting spirit clearly declining, the IDF understandably turned toward high technology. The cancellation of the homegrown Lavi fighter proved to be a blessing in disguise. Initially thousands of IAI employees were let go, as well as subcontractors. Over time, however, the cancellation freed up resources for products that, though perhaps less suitable as objects of national pride, were better matched with the size of the economy, faster to develop, and easier to export. This was all the more important because, along with counterparts elsewhere, Israel’s arms industry suffered from changes in the global economic climate resulting from the end of the Cold War. Some companies, notably Bet Shemesh Jet Engines and Soltam’s artillery manufacturing division, went bankrupt and had to close their doors (the latter even though it just completed developing a revolutionary gun). The majority pared their labor force by up to two-thirds and, thanks to as much as $1 billion in state aid,59 survived. Having done so, they set out in directions that involved less hubris but promised more profit.
In 1996, with the Lavi gone, IAI (the largest single firm by far) was dependent on no fewer than 1,300 different contracts for a turnover of $1.4 billion.60 Most of the contracts were focused in three areas. First, there were upgrades to old machines. They included Super Frelon helicopters and the F-4 Phantom; the latter were provided with new engines and converted to an anti-SAM role by the addition of modern electronics and missiles. Based on the avionics originally developed for the Lavi, IAI has also produced modernization kits for MIG-21s and early-model F-1 6s. Some of these had export potential as other countries such as India, China, and Turkey sought to extend their older planes (a typical phenomenon in the post-Cold War era when any country with a modern military can acquire nuclear weapons and the usefulness of conventional weapons is declining).
Second, IAI and competitor Tadiran continued to expand their lines of RPVs, the objective being to produce smaller, more robust models with greater endurance and improved electronics packages for surveillance, reconnaissance, and target acquisition. In particular, great attention is being paid to the difficult problem of separating targets from surroundings such as wadis, depressions in the ground, overhanging cliffs, and vegetation. A new generation of long-range unmanned airborne vehicles (UAVs) is also under development. The RPVs also proved exportable and are now seeing service in many armed forces around the world. More so than the aircraft, they have civilian uses in policing coastlines and the like, which in the long run probably assures them of greater development potential and a better market.
Third, IAI and RAFAEL have continued working on missiles, where software is critically important and where Israel’s technological forte could therefore be exploited to the limit. The list of missiles known to exist includes the Popeye, a long-range, highly accurate surface-to-ground missile exported to U.S. forces during the Gulf War; an advanced air-to-air missile known as the Pithon III ; and the Chets, an antiballistic missile now under development and intended to bring down Scuds the next time they are launched at Israel.61 In late 1988, Israel gave proof of its technological prowess by launching Ofek I, an earth-circling satellite. The first stage of the launcher is said to have consisted of the Jericho II missile. Though details on throw weight are scarce, a missile that can boost a satellite into space should easily be capable of landing a small nuclear warhead on enemy capitals as far away as Tripoli and Tehran. When the nineteen F-15Is on order are delivered in 1998, the IAF will be able to reach Iranian and Libyan targets without having to refuel on the way.
During the early nineties several countries started work on a new generation of RPV-directed ground-to-ground missiles on mobile launchers. These are not ballistic missiles but guided and homing ones, intended for tactical use against field targets; once enough become operational they should make armored divisions obsolete. Assuming Israel will one day be able to acquire or produce similar weapons, its over-the-horizon capability should very largely nullify the advantage that topography currently gives Syria. Thus it would become much easier to give back that area as part of an eventual peace settlement with Damascus.
Until the new weapons materialize and become operational, the pièce de résistance of Israel’s arms industry continues to be the Merkava tank, considered “a national asset” and progressing into Marks II, III, and IV. The Mark II has an upgraded engine, a turret-mounted mortar for dealing with enemy infantry, and an improved suspension system for a cross-country capability second to none. The Mark III sports a formidable 120mm gun firing armor-piercing, sabot-discarding, fin-stabilized (APSDFS) ammunition with greatly improved muzzle velocity and range; an all-electric mechanism for slewing the turret around makes it much less vulnerable to fire than earlier models. The modified Merkava is the equal of any tank in Arab hands, including the U.S. M-1 Abrams produced by the Egyptians under license. It is clearly superior to anything in the hands of Israel’s main enemy, Syria; in early 1997, Syria was said to be in the market for new fire-control systems to reequip their obsolescent T-72s.62
Though these are impressive achievements, like other arms-exporting countries Israel discovered that some of its exported systems were falling into enemy hands by way of third parties. Furthermore, the systems reflected a more realistic approach to the ideal of self-sufficiency than was the case during the feverish period from 1973 to 1985. At a time when most major arms manufacturers worldwide are suffering from overcapacity and entering joint ventures,63 for Israel with its population of fewer than 6 million, swimming against the tide is pointless; when it tried in the early nineties such losses mounted that Rabin, as prime minister, suggested giving the defense industries away “for free.” If only because the United States continues to limit the sums that may be converted into shekels and spent locally, critically important and expensive weapon systems are being purchased abroad. Besides the F-15 Is just mentioned—at $100 million each, they alone account for a full year’s military assistance—this has included additional F-16 fighter-bombers, Apache attack helicopters, and fifth-generation missile boats. At 1,200 tons, the latter are considerably larger than their predecessors, which enables them to carry helicopters and thus launch Harpoon missiles (also U.S.-manufactured) at targets over the horizon. The Apache is the best of its kind, and with Hellfire missiles and FLIR (forward-looking infrared) equipment, it is especially well suited for repelling the next Syrian armored assault, by day or by night.
As it had done in previous wars, Israel pressed the West for more weapons during the 1991 Gulf War. Most visible were the Patriot antiaircraft missiles used to intercept incoming Scuds (with mixed results). Partly because German firms had apparently been involved in building poison-gas plants for Saddam Hussein, partly because arming Israel was a politically acceptable way for Germany to he
lp pay for the Gulf War, Israel also succeeded in getting aid from that quarter. Besides the transfer of Fuchs poison-gas identification and decontamination vehicles, it led to the construction of three submarines at no cost to Israel (at $250 million each, that’s no mean advantage). The land forces acquired the U.S.-built MRLS (multiple rocket launching system), a weapon specifically designed for breaking up massed armored assaults. Last but not least, Israel’s antiaircraft radar system was modernized and a permanent link was established between the IAF operations center and the U.S. Air Force (USAF) Space Command early-warning center at Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado. Should another missile attack take place from the direction of Iraq, this link should increase warning time from two to approximately seven minutes.64
Thus, overall the decade after 1985 witnessed two conflicting trends. With Rabin and Arens at the helm, the IDF continued transforming from the lean, superbly motivated fighting army of a small country bent on survival into an organization bloated with surplus manpower, supernumerary officers, and inflated headquarters. In the wake of its failure to prevail in Lebanon, this army lost much of its aura: It was no longer as highly respected and found its ability to attract top-level manpower increasingly in doubt. Yet the period also witnessed a tremendous enhancement of Israel’s military and technological capabilities, whether imported or homegrown. As in modern armed forces elsewhere, the occasional voice warned against overreliance on technology but was left a cry in the wilderness.65 And as in other modern forces, the result has been to shift the balance from fighters in favor of technicians.66
These twin developments took place against the background of an improving international situation as well as very great cuts in military procurement on both sides of the former Iron Curtain. Although Israel’s military industries went through their period of downsizing and reorganization, globally speaking the effect was to make the IDF perhaps the most modern armed force, behind only that of the United States. Relative to the country’s size and resources the IDF continued to command a vast pool of free manpower and to attract a very large share of GDP—to say nothing of the greatest amount of free financial aid provided to any country since Lend Lease and the Marshall Plan. Yet the next two tests came, and the IDF failed to defend the country against Saddam’s missiles and against the much smaller but potentially far more dangerous threat posed by the Palestinian uprising.
The Sword And The Olive Page 43