by Uzi Eilam
Uzi Rubin and the program administration coordinated between the overall planning of the satellite launchers, carried out by Dov Raviv and his staff, and the engine developers at IMI. We knew the IMI Givon factory possessed solid knowledge and human resources that would help meet it the challenges. However, Givon personnel also needed to be supervised and to recognize the fact that project management personnel understood the ins and outs of the project. Rubin and his small staff succeeded in getting the job done effectively with project management working with great determination and strict adherence to the timetable, while consistently demonstrating sensitivity to the different problems that arose.
Rafael’s role in the project was not as large as it had hoped it would be, with a role limited to developing the third stage of the satellite launch. This, however, was an exceptionally challenging technological and engineering undertaking in itself. Weight was a critical issue because the third stage, which pushed the satellite into orbit, couldn’t be too heavy. This presented a challenge to developing the ball shape shell containing the fuel for the third stage. The shell had to be strong, durable at high temperatures and corrosion resistant, which meant it had to be made from titanium.
The technological challenge of building a ball out of paper-thin sheets of titanium, and ensuring that this body would be strong enough to withstand the shock of separation during the three stages of the launch, was a gauntlet that Rafael was eager to pick up. The facts speak for themselves, and Rafael’s titanium balls did not fail even once.
We decided to organize development of the entire satellite program within two parallel and coordinated projects: one for launchers and one for satellites. The participating defense industries were selected according to their capabilities and to our assessment of their ability to learn and begin working in areas of technology that were sometimes completely new. For some of the satellite launchers, IAI’s Malam facility was chosen as the primary contractor; while IMI, Rafael, and a number of smaller companies took part in the project as sub-contractors. Rubin’s project administration played an important role in ensuring coordinated, harmonious work among the different companies involved, which is something that can never be taken for granted anywhere, especially not in Israel. The primary contractor for satellite development was the IAI Mabat factory, where a space center was established in 1986. The sub-contractors for satellite development included the electro-optical company El-Op, which developed the telescope, Rafael, which developed small engines for satellite movement once it was in orbit, and a large number of other companies in Israel and abroad. Brigadier General Haim Eshed directed the satellite project administration from the outset, along with a handful of talented and dedicated colleagues. Both the project administration and the defense industries had to learn space technologies as the program advanced. It was an extremely unusual situation, as most projects are carried out by industries and administrations with basic prior knowledge that enables them to function as a source of technical authority and to provide effective leadership. In this instance, imagination, creativity, daring, and in some cases audacity was necessary to counterbalance the gaps in our knowledge and the technological inferiority from which we suffered during the early years of development.
One can still question whether it was right to maintain two separate project administrations but in retrospect I think there was good reason to establish separate administrative structures to focus on the unique technologies and organizational and administrative demands of each subject area. The people involved were also an important consideration: Uzi Rubin was a whiz in the area of launchers, and Haim Eshed began to emerge as an authority in the world of satellites. Inter-administration coordination was handled by the office of the director of MAFAT, and this arrangement worked well.
From the early days of both project administrations it became clear that directing a complex, multi-partner, budget-heavy administration required skills that transcended technical and management knowhow. There was much opposition from within the IDF, whose leadership feared the project would take too much from the overall defense budget to the detriment of IDF operations. Another struggle was underway with the Budgets Branch of the defense ministry, and it was always necessary to convince the economic advisor to the defense minister and to make sure that he understood the issue and would support it. It was also necessary to stand by the defense minister and the director-general as they continued to support the program. Project directors cannot survive without deep familiarity with the Darwinian ethos of the Israeli defense establishment and without the capacity to convince senior defense ministry officials of the logic behind the plans. Directing a large program of research, development, and armament of a large weapon system requires knowing how to play chess on a number of different boards simultaneously. The problem is that unlike chess, each game board within the defense establishment has different rules, as does each player. The IDF service that will ultimately receive a system must be handled differently from the decision makers at the General Staff, the CGS, and the deputy CGS. There are even multiple game boards within the defense ministry, the finance ministry, the Knesset foreign affairs and defense committee, and even the State Comptroller’s Office. Then there are the defense industries, among which the project director must find paths of compromise to ensure harmonious work between the primary contractors and subcontractors. Working with the defense industries involves keeping control of budgets and milestones, some of which have to be updated from time to time. Through all of this, the administration staff must work with enthusiasm and high spirits in a professional and well coordinated manner despite the obstacles of an ambitious development program. I frequently took part in this simultaneous chess match with either Uzi Rubin or Haim Eshed at my side. Sometimes, however, the two ‘growing boys’ had to handle things on their own, and as the years passed I watched as they grew into their positions, acquiring the skills and confidence that were so essential to getting the job done.
A typical example of the modus operandi was the way the project administration handed the case of the flexible nozzle. In the process of developing the satellite launcher Michael Schor of IMI stuck to the simplest planning possible and refused to get carried away with technological innovation. In contrast, Uzi Rubin thought that we were ready to integrate an advanced mechanism into the gas vent of the missile engine that would enable us to direct the missile toward the correct trajectory. Instead of four small devices emitting gas streams directing the missile, he envisioned one flexible nozzle, which would also respond to commands issued by the missile’s own computer system. Rubin tried to assign the undertaking to Dov Raviv who wouldn’t hear of it. Eventually, Rubin asked for my authorization to bypass Raviv and to develop the nozzle in IAI’s engineering division as a separate engineering feasibility project. Like most efforts challenged by the laws of physics, our work took us three steps forward and two backward. Ultimately, we possessed the technology, but development of the satellite launchers had already reached the stage where it would be wrong to introduce such substantive changes. The nozzle was eventually used in a later program led by none other than Raviv himself — the Arrow missile-defense program. We were all pleased to possess the flexible nozzle technology for the innovative missile. Due to the high speeds at which an intercepting missile such as the Arrow must travel and the sharp turns it must make in order to strike an enemy missile, the missile defense system would not have had a chance had we not already developed the flexible nozzle.
Overseeing the administrative structures of both satellite projects and, somewhat later, the establishment of a missile defense program administration, meant entering a world that was very different from the world of pure research and development. In my past positions within the Weapons Development Department of the Operations Branch and the R&D Unit, my responsibilities had been limited to full-scale engineering development. Once this stage was complete and production began, responsibility moved to the defense ministry’s P
roduction and Purchasing Administration. When the Merkava tank development project first got underway, a Tank Development Program Administration, located outside the R&D Unit and the Production and Purchasing Administration and initially directed by Israel Tal, was established within the defense ministry. In the case of the development and armament of navy missile boats, a different solution was found — the establishment of a sea vessel administration as a separate body within the Production and Purchasing Administration, which officials were wise enough to place it under the direction of a senior Navy technical officer. The Lavi program was also run by a project-focused administrative structure led by air force officers such as Amos Lapidot, Dan Halutz, and Menachem Eini — all of whom were trained as pilots or navigators, had academic education in the fields of engineering or the exact sciences, and had experience in directing research and development projects within the corps.
Even after Prime Minister Begin approved the space program, the development of both the satellite launchers and the satellites themselves encountered additional bumps in the road. In 1983, we received significant support from the Ministry of Science and Technology. Minister Yuval Neeman, who had been closely following progress in the field of satellite development in Israel, decided that the time had come to establish a national space agency for making use of space. Indeed, in January 1983, under Neeman’s leadership, the Ministerial Committee for Research and Development decided on the establishment of the Israeli Space Agency (ISA). Neeman and I had many conversations about space when, as Director of the Atomic Energy Commission, I would visit his office for weekly meetings to update him on Israel’s nuclear activities. We discussed the role of Israeli academia and its contribution to the creation of Israel’s space-related knowledge and the development of Israel’s technological capabilities. It was clear that the Israeli defense industries were relatively ignorant when it came to space, but that this lack of knowledge could be filled by means of focused academic research in selected areas. It was also clear that the more progress we made in academic research, the easier it would be for us to build bridges with space-related research and development efforts underway in other advanced countries around the world. I recommended that Neeman designate a significant budget within the Science Ministry to support space related work within Israeli academic and research institutions. Although the budget itself was certainly important, I maintained that commitment to the continued funding of such activities in the years to come was even more important. The Science Ministry, which from its early days did not enjoy large budgets, was a difficult ministry to run. However, thanks to Neeman’s persistence and the talents of his director general, Tanchum Grizim, the ministry established and institutionalized its commitment to providing research budgets for space related work. This commitment remains in place today.
One of the most difficult obstacles had to do with the lifting capacity of the satellite launchers we were developing. The overall budget could not accommodate the budget intensive development process proposed by IAI. Nonetheless, we had to prove ourselves and to the IDF that satellite capabilities were not a dream. This could only be proven by a successful, full-scale launch. Toward the end of 1984, Dov Raviv was forced to acknowledge that launcher development, which had been led by the IAI, had stalled and he announced that the launcher would not reach the planned energy capacity by the date planned for the launch of the first satellite with satellite photography capabilities.
One of the first decisions I faced had to do with a realistic assessment of both launcher capability and the weight of the photography satellite. Efforts to minimize the weight of the satellite included eliminating a small camera that was supposed to scan a large area during the flight of the satellite and aiming the main camera in directions that promised more efficient photography. However, in light of Dov Raviv’s statement, not even this reduction was enough to enable a launch on the planned date. At a meeting attended by many members of the two project administrations within the defense ministry and leaders of the satellite project from the IAI, I concluded that the weight of the first two satellites would have to be reduced. These two satellites, which we named Oz, weighed 160 kilograms instead of 250 kilograms and were planned for launch in 1987 and 1988. The launch of the operational satellite with photography capabilities was pushed back to 1993; the delay was meant to enable us to overcome the majority of the many development problems we faced. IMI had to reduce the weight of the satellite launcher without diminishing the quantity of propulsion material, and Rafael had to successfully complete development of the third stage engine of the satellite launcher. El-Op was supposed to complete work on the large telescope, which remained the sole device by which photographs were to be taken. And above all else, Malam, under Dov Raviv’s direction, was supposed to provide an overall assessment and recommendation regarding the chances of a successful launch of a photography satellite weighing 250 kilograms.
Nineteen eighty-six was a year of major cutbacks for Israel’s defense budget. Prime Minister Shimon Peres and Finance Minister Yitzhak Moda‘i started a radical program to eradicate the triple-digit inflation that had been plaguing the Israeli economy since Yoram Aridor’s tenure as finance minister under Prime Minister Menachem Begin. Defense Minister Rabin accepted the challenge and decided to reduce the defense budget by hundreds of millions of dollars. Ariel Sharon was the only other defense minister to give up such a large portion of the defense budget, and none have done so since. CGS Moshe Levi understandably believed that the IDF was facing an unprecedented budget crisis, and decided to publically voice his opposition to the satellite program. In doing so, he sent a signal to the defense ministry, which continued to support the program, that the army had different priorities. However, despite the explicit opposition of the CGS, the Intelligence Branch continued to pursue satellite photos. A foreign company was selling satellite photos at a resolution of 10 meters to anyone in need. Although this was far from military resolution, which at that time was defined as a resolution of less than one meter, it was the best that could be acquired. As a result the satellite communications station at the Mabat factory received its first operational assignment from the Intelligence Branch, and proved that it was possible to receive satellite photos and to process them for intelligence use.
On September 9, 1988, one year later than planned, the Oz I satellite was launched and entered orbit as planned. The body of the satellite was covered with solar panels that provided the energy required to operate the satellite system and to broadcast technical data to earth.
Israel had three centers for supervising satellite launches: the launch safety control center operated by air force at testing area headquarters, the IAI control center for satellite launchers in an IAI building in the test area, and a space activity control center in the IAI Mabat factory. The space center was planned to manage all space-related activity, from tracking the satellite after it entered orbit to issuing commands to the satellite while it was in space and receiving data from the satellite in future launches. The air force center was closed to guests and visitors, and only a few select senior civilians were permitted to enter during launches. The control center operated by the program administrations at the testing area was the place to see all the drama of the launch as it happened. Permission to view launches from this location was in high demand. There was intense competition to get into the closely guarded lists of people who could get into the inner sanctum of the launch process. As a rule, the list of those who were disappointed by the selection process was exponentially longer than the list of the few lucky ones. During the many different types of launches I attended I noticed the immeasurable tension of the launch teams. For this reason, I was convinced that we must not burden them with the presence of high-level guests and convinced Defense Minister Rabin not to come to the facility to watch the launch.
Launch countdowns often stop in mid process, and over the years many tests were delayed due to weather conditions and other problems. Howev
er, as the date of the launch approached, Science Minister Gideon Pat asked to attend the launch at the testing area itself even though I insisted on maintaining our principles and not allowing VIP’s inside the testing area during the launch. The evening before the launch, I visited Rabin at his home for a final briefing. Leah welcomed me and served me coffee as Rabin smoked his umpteenth cigarette of the day. Toward the end of the briefing, Rabin told me that Gideon Pat wanted to observe the launch from the test facility, and that he would not leave him alone about it. My response was that I did not think it was a good idea, but that the Science Minister could be present at the IAI space center and follow the launch from there. “Speak to Gideon,” Rabin said, counting on my persuasiveness. Science Minister Pat was present at the space center during the launch, and enjoyed every moment. After the launch, I was gratified when he called me to convey his appreciation.
The launch’s complete success was a shot of encouragement for us all and prompted us to give the satellite an optimistic name: Ofek (horizon). Since then, this has been the name used for all the satellites we have launched. Even though we knew that the launch of the operational photography satellite was only planned for 1993, we established a small administrative body that we referred to as a “program bureau“ to lead the development of the radar for the future satellite, which would operate on the principle of synthetic aperture radar (SAR). This was a daring and perhaps slightly overconfident decision, but in hindsight absolutely right. In April 1990, a year and a half after the launch of the first satellite, Oz II (publicized as “Ofek”) was launched successfully, ensuring our confidence in the launching system and our ability to put a satellite into orbit. We also grew more confident in our ability to communicate with our satellites. It was a time of intensive development and high morale for everybody.