by Uzi Eilam
In late March it was officially announced that Tzur would be leaving the defense ministry. At a meeting of defense ministry branch directors, Director-General Ironi presented a diagram of the changes within the ministry’s senior leadership. The interim report of the Agranat Commission recommended the removal of Eli Zeira, and Shimon Peres became defense minister after Dayan’s resignation. After Ironi passed away suddenly, Peres appointed Professor Pinhas Zusman to replace him as director general of the ministry.
The defense ministry opened a new front in the battle for research and development with the appointment of General (Ret.) Amos Horev as the ministry’s chief scientist, a position that had been vacant since the establishment of the R&D Unit. I knew Horev well and we shared both common language as well as mutual respect and understanding. I also knew that his gentle, cultured demeanor ensured that there would be no battles between us. Nonetheless, the appearance of such an experienced and authoritative figure on the defense R&D scene caused me some concern. Soon after he assumed the position of chief scientist he was chosen to serve as president of the Technion technological university and was only able to dedicate a small portion of his time to his job in the defense ministry. A few years later Defense Minister Shimon Peres appointed Manes Prath, the first director of the Dimona Nuclear Research Campus, to the position of chief scientist. Prath was an engineer and a charismatic director with the capacity and aspiration to build a bureau with vision, and he tried to start an enormous program of strategic research on current trends in defense technology. Although this may have been consistent with Peres’s ambitions, it was not consistent with his ability to allocate resources. But it was the bureaucracy of the defense ministry that ultimately tied the hands of the new chief scientist, who eventually gave up trying to scale the slippery walls of the ministry. With the establishment of MAFAT, the office of chief scientist of the defense ministry evolved into its current incarnation. It was only natural to bestow the title of chief scientist upon the director of the new Administration, who was the civilian supervisor of the defense ministry’s research and development hierarchy.
There were more upheavals ahead. With the publication of the interim report of the Agranat Commission on the first day of April it was clear that something was going on. Elazar announced that a special General Staff meeting had been scheduled for that evening. I expected the worst, and the meeting was repeatedly delayed. In the end my secretary said that the meeting had been rescheduled for 10:30 p.m., and that I should also listen to the ten o’clock news. Soon after I left home for the Kirya government campus, the radio broadcast the main conclusions of the Agranat Commission’s interim report. The Commission placed the bulk of responsibility on CGS Elazar, Intelligence Branch Chief Eli Zeira, and Shmuel Gonen, who had served as OC Southern Command during the war. It also assigned blame to Intelligence Branch Research Department Director Arieh Shalev, director of the Egypt Branch of the Research Department, and the intelligence officer of the Southern Command. The Commission had so far left Meir and Dayan unscathed.
Surprised and shocked we all assembled in the General Staff meeting room. We were all well aware of the facts about the army’s readiness on the eve of the war and the manner in which the war had been conducted. However, we had not been aware of how the Commission had interpreted its brief to investigate IDF‘s readiness for the war, the information the IDF had received during the days leading up to the war, and the actions that preceded the IDF’s repelling of the enemy. According to the Commission, this meant limiting its investigation only to the events that took place until October 8, 1973, the date of the failed counter-attack in the south.
We all stood when the CGS entered the room. The tension was as high as it could be as we waited silently for Elazar to begin speaking. Elazar began his statement by saying that he had received the interim report that morning, and that he was appealing its findings. He then read us the letter he had written to Prime Minister Meir, in which he rejected most of the conclusions that incriminated him and divided responsibility between Eli Zeira and the defense minister.
Elazar then told us that, although he regretted having to say goodbye to us in such a way, he had informed Golda Meir that in light of the report he would be unable to remain the CGS and that Hofi would serve as acting CGS until further notice. With that, Elazar got up and left the room, leaving us sitting in silence, confused and not knowing what to do. The administrative secretary announced that the meeting was over, but everyone remained in their seats. It was impossible to leave the room that echoed with so many discussions that we remembered with such sharp and painful clarity. Among these were the situation assessment carried out two weeks before the outbreak of the war, when no one even imagined that war was approaching, and the meeting with Defense Minister Dayan on Friday afternoon, the day before the war, when Eli Zeira declared that war was extremely unlikely. During that meeting Elazar had adopted Zeira’s assessment, while Dayan, who sat next to the CGS, did not explicitly disagree with the assessment, but nonetheless said things that suggested that he was not comfortable with it. The room also echoed with the General Staff meetings that followed the battles: the scathing criticism, the war between the generals, and Elazar’s heroic efforts to reinstitute order within the army.
My heart went out to Elazar, who was battered and bruised by the Commission report, and I thought back to the night he asked me for information on the R&D preparations to help his testimony before the Commission. I was troubled by the injustice that had been done to him – someone who had been the rock and the anchor of both the IDF and the Israeli population during the war, which began as such a surprise and ended with a decisive Israeli victory, despite the difficulties and losses along the way.
Despite these tumultuous events, work and daily life in the R&D Unit continued. One interesting event was the annual meeting of the Israel Physics Society, held at the Weizmann Institute two days before Passover in the spring of 1974. Prof. Israel Dostrovsky sponsored the conference, and I was invited to speak as a guest lecturer. I was familiar with the audience and worked hard on preparing my speech. The hundreds of physicists who filled the conference hall listened carefully to the main points of my assessment of the balance of power and balance of technology between us and the Arabs. My lecture focused on the contribution of research in general and physics research in particular to Israeli defense and security. There was no doubt in my mind about the importance of physics research for Israeli defense interests, and I said this to the scientists loudly and clearly. My talk was followed by 20 minutes of lively, intelligent questions and answers on a wide variety of issues. During the coffee break I was surrounded by people who continued asking questions and never left me alone. There were so many people who wanted to contribute but did not know how to go about it. This overwhelming expression of such a sincere desire to help stemmed from the shock of the war, which affected the scientific community like the rest of the country. At the time I was unable to provide detailed answers or to recommend defined paths of action. Nonetheless, I was convinced that in the future we would need to find a way to direct the scientists toward issues related to security research.
Yitzhak Rabin as Prime Minister
Unable to withstand the increasing public pressure following the war, Golda Meir resigned as prime minister on April 11, 1974. Yitzhak Rabin was chosen to replace her, mainly because, serving in Washington as Israel’s ambassador, he was perceived as free from complicity in the errors made by the political leadership during the period leading up to the war. Rabin, who was popularly celebrated as the architect of Israel’s success during the Six Day War, defeated Shimon Peres during internal Labor Party elections, but was nonetheless forced to appoint Peres as his defense minister.
With Yitzhak Rabin
Two months after the establishment of the new government, Rachel and Tzvi Tzur invited me and Naomi to their home for coffee one Saturday afternoon. Our friendship with the Tzur family had gr
own closer and continued to do so during the years that followed. Ernest Yefet, the powerful CEO of Bank Leumi, then the largest bank in the country was there, as was the president of the Australian Zionist organization. To our surprise, and with no forewarning, the Rabins were there as well. The Rabins typically spent Saturday morning playing tennis and Yitzhak, who was a redhead from birth, would get sunburnt and looked as red as a beetroot. It was a unique experience to hear Tzvi, who had preceded Rabin as CGS, unhesitatingly ask Rabin a barrage of direct questions about his feelings as prime minister, about political battles, and about ministers in his government. Tzur was especially interested in hearing about Yehoshua Rabinovich, the new finance minister of whom Rabin had a positive assessment, supported by the financier Ernest Yefet. In this intimate forum, the shy, introverted Rabin felt more comfortable and was able to loosen up a bit. Little did I know that the prime minister would soon ask me to become the director-general of the Israel Atomic Energy Commission (IAEC.)
This was the third time I had met Yitzhak Rabin. The first time was just after the Six Day War, when Yitzhak Yaakov had taken me around to show me off...aratrooper battalion commander who was also an engineer — as his new acquisition for the Weapons Development Department of the Operations Branch. I was extremely nervous when I went up the office of the CGS, having no idea what to expect. However, I quickly relaxed and answered his questions about my impressions from the Six Day War in Jerusalem, about what we could expect in the realm of military research and development, and mainly about the future war along the borders. During this first meeting I took note of Rabin’s weak, soft, and hesitant handshake, and of the fact that he never looked you directly in the eye. My second meeting with Rabin took place during a visit to Washington before I was appointed director of R&D. Rabin, then the Israeli ambassador, invited me to give a talk about IDF research and development at the weekly embassy staff meeting. Ambassador Rabin was different from most Israeli career diplomats. He instituted a framework based on team work and information sharing among all the major officials at the embassy and I was impressed by the relaxed, businesslike atmosphere that pervaded the embassy. It was easy to recognize his special contribution to the sense of harmony and teamwork that characterized the embassy during his term as ambassador.
Shimon Peres — The New Defense Minister
The beginning of a new era within the defense establishment encouraged me to quickly address the issues of defense R&D procedures and policy, which I regarded as critically important. It was important to institutionalize procedures, particularly when there was no longer an advisor (and deputy, for all intents and purposes) to the defense minister who could be compared to Tzur in character or authority. Moshe Dayan’s resignation left an unclear situation in the upper echelons of the defense ministry leadership, with Pinhas Zusman, Motti Hod as senior advisor, and Amos Horev as chief scientist, but with no clear definition of their areas of responsibility. It was also important to institutionalize R&D procedures with the IDF, and the fact that the war had just ended provided us with the best possible timing for this undertaking. In the R&D Unit my deputies Nahum Dayagi and Yedidia Shamir, as well as Colonel Eli Levin, director of the new Planning and Economics Department, put a great deal of work into designing the procedures. We then distributed the resulting document, which caused a commotion. It incensed Amos Horev, who shot off an angry letter to the defense minister protesting the fact that the chief scientist had not been incorporated into the procedures. In a letter of his own, Defense Ministry Deputy Director-General Tzvi Tzafriri protested that the procedures we outlined were not coordinated with the Organization Branch of the defense ministry and demanded that they not go into effect until this was implemented. Yet again, I appreciated the great complexity of my position as director of R&D and the many disadvantages, as well as advantages, of an agency responsible to both the IDF and the defense ministry. The excitement did not bother me. In fact, I rather enjoyed it. After all, I knew that it would attract everyone’s attention, and because I was convinced of the logic behind the procedures, I was not worried that they would be affected by bureaucratic opposition.
I asked Peres’s office for a meeting to present the overall concept of research and development, and a meeting was scheduled relatively quickly. Peres looked exhausted, and I wondered what I could do to get him more alert and attentive. I started by introducing myself, but Peres quickly stopped me, declaring: “I know you from the (Jordan) Valley!”
“Ah, Ze’evi, Ze’evi,” I thought to myself. “You did PR for me as well, with your endless stream of visitors to the Jordan Valley when you were OC Central Command.” I then moved to an explanation of the unique structure of the R&D Unit, during which the minister bombarded me with questions regarding structure, authority and chain of command, relations with the chief scientist, and my opinion regarding the appropriate role of this position. I told him that the chief scientist of the defense ministry needed to be a bona-fide scientist capable both of holding the position on a full-time basis and of running the Defense Research and Development Advisory Committee. I praised the work of the Advisory Committee and said it was a wonderful body that could enable the chief scientist to effectively advise the minister and to help the director of R&D focus on the future of new technologies and engage in intelligent in long-term planning. I suggested to Peres that he regard the R&D Unit as the sole administrative body in the defense ministry and the IDF responsible for administrative work and preparing recommendations for development related decisions. By now, Peres was completely alert, and he asked questions about each of the major projects that were currently under development. I described developments in advanced air-to-air and air-to-surface missiles, as well as developments related to electronic warfare and communications systems. I also told him about the drive for naval-related technologies and the important lessons learned during the war at sea. In terms of ground warfare, I explained about the Merkava Tank project, which constituted the major thrust of development for Israel’s ground forces and left too few resources available for development of all the remaining components of ground warfare. Peres asked specific questions that reflected not only interest and understanding, but concern on the strategic level. The approach he expressed during our meeting called for massive artillery and air support during a ground war. I promised to draft a document containing an analysis of different approaches to future development, the answers to a number of tank-related questions he had asked me, and a draft of the policy that was in the process of evolving within the R&D Unit. My hour with the defense minister flew by, and Peres asked me to return for another meeting in order to cover the subjects we had not had the time to discuss. I left his office with a positive feeling, certain that the defense minister’s door would always be open to me. However, over the years it became clear that my meeting with Peres was a rare instance of benevolence on his part, and in our many subsequent meetings I never again saw him so eager to listen and to ask so many comprehensive and probing questions. Indeed, the Peres I met with later was concerned mainly with politics.
When Peres was appointed defense minister in Rabin’s first government, he embarked on feverish initiatives to shore up relations and alliances with friendly countries. To this end I was dispatched to attend secret talks with the Swedish CGS and officers of his general staff. The aim was to fascinate them with stories about the Yom Kippur War, and the technological lessons we learned from fighting a difficult war using Western weapons against Soviet systems. Although in 1974 the Swedes maintained a policy of extreme neutrality, they nonetheless wanted to learn more about the Soviet threat. This is how the path to Swedish–Israeli cooperation was paved.
I also went to Paris on Peres’ instructions. Here too Peres hoped to open the door to cooperation by enticing the senior commanders of the French army with the lessons of the Yom Kippur War. The most interesting lessons were tactical and technological, based on the confrontation between the Eastern bloc weapons and Western
systems. Defense Minister Peres believed that the French were interested in the overall perspective offered by our experience. Peres – the architect of the very close special relationship between Israel and France between the mid-1950s up to the Six Day War — hoped to restore the former partnership. At the time the Israeli ambassador in Paris was Arthur Ben-Natan, a close friend and colleague of Peres from the days when they were both among David Ben-Gurion’s closest advisors. Ben-Natan was sent to the French capital in the hope that his involvement in shaping the Israeli–French partnership before the Six Day War would bring about a renewed relationship. I made my way to the embassy on rue Rabelais directly from the airport carrying a bag containing accounts and conclusions of the lessons of the war in English. Most of the documents had been drawn up in jointly with the Americans, for their benefit. They covered the air, ground, and naval aspects of the war, and also dealt with a number of intelligence-related lessons.
In my introductory meeting and briefing with Ben-Natan in the embassy the ambassador listened to my accounts with mixed feelings, as he was still grieving the death of his son Amnon who had been killed during the war. However, Ben-Natan knew how to rise above his personal pain and took it upon himself to help prepare the meeting with the French CGS and his men. We reached the headquarters of the French General Staff which, like the offices of most leaders and government ministers in France, was located in an elegant mansion. The French officers understood English well but spoke little and asked only short questions. Ambassador Ben-Natan took part in the discussion, launching into explanations of the meaning of the lessons of the war in French, which to my untrained ear sounded beautiful. Ben-Natan was also able to provide extensive explanations on subjects in which the French officers expressed interest.
The Frenchmen did not open up immediately after the short visit, and Ambassador Ben-Natan had to work hard to thaw the political and military boycott that French President Charles de Gaulle had imposed on Israel after the Six Day War.