Israel’s National Security
This volume presents a comprehensive analysis of Israel’s security challenges
since the 1973 October War. Efraim Inbar takes the reader on a historical
journey through Israel’s relations in the Middle East that begins with an analysis
of Israel’s strategic thinking after 1973 and ends with an important look at the
recent Second Lebanese War and the Iranian nuclear challenge. Israel’s
National Security delves not only into Israel’s responses, but also its relationships in the international community, providing a complete picture of how
Israel’s strategic environment has evolved over time.
The book is divided into six sections: the aftermath of the 1973 War, limited
wars, the post-Cold War period, the peace process, new strategic partners, and
twenty-first-century challenges. Inbar addresses important topics such as the
implications of the American arms transfer to Israel, the Israeli public debate
over the 1982 Lebanese War, Israel’s responses to the Intifada and the limits of
Arab–Israeli coexistence after the peace process, and Israel’s behavior during
the 1991 Gulf War. After the 1990s, Israel’s strategic environment improved,
with a noticeable growing acceptance of Israel in the region. Relevant to today’s
current political atmosphere, the volume dissects the influences of the growing
appeal of Islamic extremism on the peace process, Israel strategic partnerships
with India and Turkey, and Israel’s relations with the Palestinians.
This important study will be of interest to students and researchers of Security Studies, Middle East and Israeli Politics.
Efraim Inbar is a Professor in Political Studies at Bar-Ilan University and the
Director of its Begin–Sadat (BESA) Center for Strategic Studies. His area of
specialization is Middle Eastern strategic issues with a special interest in the
politics and strategy of Israeli national security. He has written over fifty articles
in professional journals. He has authored four books: Outcast Countries in the
World Community (1985), War and Peace in Israeli Politics: Labor Party Positions on National Security (1991), Rabin and Israel’s National Security (1999),
and The Israeli–Turkish Entente (2001), and has edited seven collections of
articles.
Israeli history, politics and society
Series Editor: Efraim Karsh
King’s College London
This series provides a multidisciplinary examination of all aspects of Israeli
history, politics and society, and serves as a means of communication between
the various communities interested in Israel: academics; policy-makers; practitioners; journalists and the informed public.
1 Peace in the Middle East
The challenge for Israel
Edited by Efraim Karsh
7 In Search of Identity
Jewish aspects in Israeli culture
Edited by Dan Urian and
Efraim Karsh
2 The Shaping of Israeli Identity
Myth, memory and trauma
Edited by Robert Wistrich and
David Ohana
8 Israel at the Polls, 1996
Edited by Daniel J. Elazar and
Shmuel Sandler
3 Between War and Peace
Dilemmas of Israeli security
Edited by Efraim Karsh
9 From Rabin to Netanyahu
Israel’s troubled agenda
Edited by Efraim Karsh
4 US–Israeli Relations at the
Crossroads
Edited by Gabriel Sheffer
10 Fabricating Israeli History
The ‘new historians’, second
revised edition
Efraim Karsh
5 Revisiting the Yom Kippur War
Edited by P. R. Kumaraswamy
6 Israel
The dynamics of change and
continuity
Edited by David Levi-Faur,
Gabriel Sheffer and David Vogel
11 Divided against Zion
Anti-Zionist opposition in Britain
to a Jewish State in Palestine,
1945–1948
Rory Miller
12 Peacemaking in a Divided
Society
Israel after Rabin
Edited by Sasson Sofer
13 A Twenty-year Retrospective of
Egyptian–Israeli Relations
Peace in spite of everything
Ephraim Dowek
14 Global Politics
Essays in honor of David Vital
Edited by Abraham Ben-Zvi and
Aharon Klieman
15 Parties, Elections and Cleavages
Israel in comparative and
theoretical perspective
Edited by Reuven Y. Hazan and
Moshe Maor
16 Israel and the Polls 1999
Edited by Daniel J. Elazar and
M. Ben Mollov
17 Public Policy in Israel
Edited by David Nachmias and
Gila Menahem
18 Developments in Israeli Public
Administration
Edited by Moshe Maor
19 Israeli Diplomacy and the Quest
for Peace
Mordechai Gazit
20 Israeli–Romanian Relations at
the End of Ceaucşcu’s Era
Yosef Govrin
21 John F. Kennedy and the Politics
of Arms Sales to Israel
Abraham Ben-Zvi
22 Green Crescent over Nazareth
The displacement of Christians by
Muslims in the Holy Land
Raphael Israeli
23 Jerusalem Divided
The armistice region, 1947–1967
Raphael Israeli
24 Decision on Palestine Deferred
America, Britain and wartime
diplomacy, 1939–1945
Monty Noam Penkower
25 A Dissenting Democracy
The case of ‘peace now’, an
Israeli peace movement
Magnus Norell
26 British, Israel and Anglo-Jewry
1947–1957
Natan Aridan
27 Israeli Identity
In search of a successor to the
pioneer, tsabar and settler
Lilly Weissbrod
28 The Israeli Palestinians
An Arab minority in the Jewish
State
Edited by Alexander Bligh
29 Israel, the Hashemites and the
Palestinians
The fateful triangle
Edited by Efraim Karsh and
P. R. Kumaraswamy
30 Last Days in Israel
Abraham Diskin
31 War in Palestine, 1948
Strategy and diplomacy
David Tal
32 Rethinking the Middle East
Efraim Karsh
33 Ben-Gurion against the Knesset
Giora Goldberg
42 Israeli Democracy at
Crossroads
Raphael Cohen-Almagor
34 Trapped Fools
Thirty years of Israeli policy in
the territories
Schlomo Gazit
43 Israeli Institutions at
Crossroads
Raphael Cohen-Almagor
35 Israel’s Quest for Recognition
and Acceptance in Asia
Garrison state diplomacy
Jacob Abadi
44 The Israeli–Palestine Peace
Process Negotiations, 1999–2001
Within reach
Gilead Sher
36 The Harp and Shield of David
Ireland, Zionism and the State of
Israel, 1937–1963
Eliash Shulamit
45 Ben-Gurion’s Political
Struggles, 1963–67
A lion in winter
Zaki Shalom
37 H. V. Evatt and the
Establishment of Israel
The undercover Zionist
Daniel Mandel
46 Ben-Gurion, Zionism and
American Jewry
1948–1963
Ariel Feldestein
38 Navigating Perilous Waters
An Israeli strategy for peace and
security
Ephraim Sneh
47 The Origins of the AmericanIsraeli Alliance
The Jordanian factor
Abraham Ben-Zvi
39 Lyndon B. Johnson and the
Politics of Arms Sales to Israel
In the shadow of the hawk
Abraham Ben-Zvi
48 The Harp and the Shield of
David
Ireland, Zionism and the State of
Israel
Shulamit Eliash
40 Israel at the Polls 2003
Edited by Shmeul Sandler,
Ben M. Mollov and
Jonathan Rynhold
41 Between Capital and Land
The Jewish national fund’s
finances and land-purchase
priorities in Palestine, 1939–1945
Eric Engel Tuten
49 Israel’s National Security
Issues and challenges since the
Yom Kippur War
Efraim Inbar
Israel: The First Hundred Years (Mini Series)
Edited by Efraim Karsh
1
Israel’s Transition from
Community to State
Edited by Efraim Karsh
2
From War to Peace?
Edited by Efraim Karsh
3
Politics and Society since 1948
Edited by Efraim Karsh
4
Israel in the International
Arena
Edited by Efraim Karsh
5
Israel in the Next Century
Edited by Efraim Karsh
Israel’s National Security
Issues and challenges since the
Yom Kippur War
Efraim Inbar
First published 2008
by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada
by Routledge
270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016
This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2007.
“To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s
collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.”
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2008 Efraim Inbar
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or
utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now
known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in
any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing
from the publishers.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
A catalog record for this book has been requested
ISBN 0-203-93829-1 Master e-book ISBN
ISBN10: 0-415-44955-3 (hbk)
ISBN10: 0-203-93829-1 (ebk)
ISBN13: 978-0-415-44955-7 (hbk)
ISBN13: 978-0-203-93829-4 (ebk)
To Rivkale and to our children
Contents
Preface
Chapter sources
xiii
xvi
PART I
The aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War
1 Israeli strategic thinking after 1973
2 The American arms transfer to Israel
1
3
24
PART II
The use of force
37
3 Israel’s small war: the military response to the Intifada
39
4 The ‘no choice war’ debate in Israel
55
PART III
The post-Cold War period
69
5 Israel and the Gulf War
71
6 Contours of Israel’s new strategic thinking
85
7 Israel’s strategic environment in the 1990s
103
PART IV
The peace process
8 Israeli negotiations with Syria
117
119
xii
Contents
9 Islamic extremism and the peace process
10 Arab–Israeli coexistence: causes, achievements
and limitations
129
142
PART V
The new strategic partners
155
11 Israel’s new strategic partner: Turkey
157
12 The Indian–Israeli entente
174
PART VI
The twenty-first-century challenges
189
13 Israel’s Palestinian challenge
191
14 The need to block a nuclear Iran
207
15 Israel’s strategic mistakes in the 2006 Lebanon War
223
Notes
Index
236
277
Preface
I am a lucky person because I have been blessed with a career that I enjoy. Politics of all kinds interested me and I therefore took to writing about security
issues. My academic career was unplanned; I fell into the discipline when
continuing graduate studies seemed more appealing and prestigious than entering the job market. I finished my graduate studies at the University of Chicago.
There, over thirty years ago, during my second year of graduate studies,
I enrolled in a course with Albert Wohlstetter on nuclear terrorism. I had never
heard of Wohlstetter prior to the course, and this course was my first encounter
with strategic thinking and to a scholarly approach of national security problems. The intimate class met at his residence, and the workshop also benefited
from the presence of Roberta Wohlstetter. The exposure to such luminaries was
a formative experience that changed my academic interests and much of my professional inclinations.
Since that time, I have become attracted to the study of international relations, particularly to national security issues in the Middle East. My Israeli
nationality, my service in a combat unit for the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) and
my interest in Jewish survival was also conducive to pursuing a Ph.D. in strategic studies. My dissertation on the ‘National Security Problems of Pariah
States’, which focused on the policies of the first Israeli government led by
Yitzhak Rabin (1974–77), led to continuous research on Rabin, whose thinking
was extremely influential on Israeli policies and debates over national security
issues for three decades. After his assassination, I published a book on Rabin
and Israel’s national security, which was a tribute to the man and the conclusion
of a chapter in my academic career.
After receiving a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago, I returned to my
homeland. I was lucky to find a full-time job at Bar-Ilan University, which
allowed me to continue writing on Israel’s national security issues. Later, my
appointment to the position of Director of the Begin–Sadat (BESA) Center for
Strategic Studies constituted yet another milestone in my professional career,
reflecting a strange concatenation of circumstances.
This book reflects my lifelong interest in the survival of the state of Israel,
which is located in the heart of a rough Middle Eastern neighborhood. The 1973
Yom Kippur War was a turning point in Israel’s history and the beginning of the
xiv
Preface
historic period on which I focused my attention, primarily because my work
tended to be policy oriented and dealt with contemporary issues.
This volume comprises a selection of articles from my literary yield since
the early 1980s, when I became active in the field of strategic studies. The
fifteen chapters of the volume evolve chronologically and are divided thematically into six parts. The first part deals with the aftermath of the 1973 Yom
Kippur War, focusing on Israel’s strategic thinking and the American arms
transfer to Israel, which was greatly needed for rebuilding the IDF during that
period.
Part II, ‘The use of force’, examines the Israeli public debate over the 1982
Lebanese War and analyzes Israel’s responses to the Intifada.
Part III, ‘The Post-Cold War period’, includes three chapters that look at
various aspects of Israel’s predicament in a new international system. Chapter 5
offers an analysis of Israel’s surprising behavior during the 1991 Gulf War.
Chapters 6 and 7 present the reader with Israel’s new strategic thinking and
Israel’s improved strategic environment in the 1990s.
Part IV of the volume, ‘The peace process’, revolves around several facets of
the renewed peace process following the 1991 Madrid conference. Chapter 8
deals with the early negotiations conducted with Syria, while Chapter 9 looks at
the influences of the growing appeal of Islamic extremism and the peace
process. Chapter 10 inquires into the domestic, regional and systemic factors
that led to a growing acceptance of Israel and outlines the limits of Arab–Israeli
coexistence.
Part V, ‘The new strategic partners’, looks at the special relationships Israel
developed with two important international actors: India and Turkey.
The three chapters in the final part of this collection, ‘The twenty-first century
challenges’, deal respectively with the significance of the deterioration of relations with the Palestinians, the need to prevent Iran from acquiring nuclear
weapons, and the strategic errors displayed by Israel during the 2006 Second
Lebanese War.
Unfortunately, the chances for peace, in the sense most Westerners understand this notion, are not bright. The Middle East is not changing rapidly and
will continue to be a zone of turmoil for the foreseeable future. While the
intensity of the current conflicts in the region may vary over time and new
alliances among past rivals may emerge, the old enmities and suspicions will
not easily fade. Therefore, writings on war and the transition to peace do not
lose their relevancy. Moreover, much can be learned from history despite the
contemporary obsession with fresh news. Hopefully, my writings will be a
modest contribution to better understand the strategic complexities facing
Israel, as well as other Middle Eastern actors. I always tell fellow conservatives
to be sensitive to discontinuities, whose likelihood we are inclined by nature to
dismiss. In my own life, a few unplanned and unexpected events turned out to
be positive.
Over the years the BESA Center has provided a wonderful intellectual
climate. My colleagues have read and offered invaluable comments on many
Preface xv
of the chapters in this collection. Special thanks are due to the BESA
administrative team who worked hard to produce this volume. I also wish to
express appreciation to Ian Bomberg, Rebecca Goldberg and Sara Krulewich for
their assistance in editing the book. Finally, my deep gratitude goes my family
who adapted to my lifestyle and to the many hours I was ‘hooked’ to the word
processor.
Chapter sources
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
This is a version of the article that originally appeared in the
Journal of Strategic Studies, March 1983, vol. 6.
This is a version of the article that originally appeared in the
Middle East Review, winter 1982–83, vol. 15.
This is a version of the article that originally appeared in the
Armed Forces and Society, fall 1991, vol. 18.
This is a version of the article that originally appeared in the
Journal of Strategic Studies, March 1989, vol. 11.
This is a version of the article that originally appeared in A.
Bacevich and E. Inbar (eds) The Gulf War of 1991 Reconsidered,
Frank Cass Publishers, 2002.
This is a version of the article that originally appeared in
Political Science Quarterly, spring 1996, vol. 111.
This is a version of the article that originally appeared in the
Journal of Strategic Studies, March 2002, vol. 25.
This is a version of an article that originally appeared in Israel
Affairs, summer 1995, vol. 1.
This is a version of the article that originally appeared in
Terrorism and Political Violence, summer 1996, vol. 8.
This is a version of the article that originally appeared in Israel
Affairs, summer 2000, vol. 6.
This article is an abridged and revised version of parts of my book,
The Israeli–Turkish Entente, London: King’s College London
Mediterranean Studies, 2001.
This is a version of the article that originally appeared in Orbis,
winter 2004, vol. 48.
This is a version of the article that originally appeared in Israel
Affairs, October 2006, vol. 12.
This is a version of the article that originally appeared in the
Middle East Review of International Affairs, spring 2006, vol. 10.
This chapter is a revised and expanded version of ‘How Israel
Bungled the Second Lebanon War’, Middle East Quarterly,
summer 2007, vol. 14, no. 3.
3
24
39
55
71
85
103
119
129
142
157
174
191
207
223
Part I
The aftermath of the 1973
Yom Kippur War
1
Israeli strategic thinking
after 1973
The October 1973 War was a turning point for Israel. Although the Israeli army
finally overcame the Arab forces, Israel did not feel victorious. At the war’s end
it appeared politically isolated and more dependent than ever on US diplomatic,
economic and military support. Moreover, in the period since the war the differences between Israel and its sole supporter, the US, regarding the Middle East
grew considerably.1 Although American influence in the region seemed to be on
the rise following the 1973 War, the US has in fact been more susceptible to
Arab pressure. America valued the Arab oil states, wished to preserve Egypt’s
pro-Western turn, and even hoped to attract Syria or Iraq into its fold. Israel,
America’s embattled ally, which by then was often considered a pariah, had
become less important to America’s interests.
In contrast to Israel, Arab political power was greater than before the war.
The Arabs believed that they had ended the war victoriously, and that Israel had
become militarily assailable. Its very survival was once again an issue. Further,
the American support for Israel in the future no longer seemed so secure, and a
first strike against Israel, which would be militarily advantageous, would not be
so costly from the political point of view.2
After 1973, Israel was less confident and much more vulnerable to American
pressures. Those pressures led to agreements in 1974 and 1975 with Syria and
Egypt which were not entirely to Israel’s liking. These agreements were not perceived in Israel at the time of signing as significantly reducing Arab hostility or
Israel’s need for modern weaponry. Both sides continued to engage in a costly
arms race, which further increased Israel’s dependence on the US. The 1979
Egyptian–Israeli Peace Treaty, which was also reached after heavy American
prodding, has in the short run alleviated Israel’s military and political situation,
but has not drastically changed its strategic dilemma. The treaty is currently
being subjected to growing strain, and its future is uncertain. The treaty also
challenges Israeli control of the West Bank, the area which is most difficult to
relinquish due to its proximity to Israel’s population centers. Moreover, the main
threat to Israel in recent years has been the potential Arab alliance on its eastern
front, not Egypt. The combined forces of Syria, Jordan and Iraq outdistance the
Egyptians in every type of weapon; they are also closer to Israel’s heartland.
Israel’s threat perception, therefore, has not changed, even after 1979. The need
4
The aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War
to upgrade the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) was accentuated by the immense
Arab military buildup – in both qualitative and quantitative terms – since 1973.
This chapter examines Israel’s strategic thinking since the 1973 October War.
We can distinguish two stages in the development of Israeli strategic thinking
since the 1973 War: the first in the 1970s and the second starting in 1980. The
first period was dedicated largely to rebuilding the IDF and regaining the confidence which had been shattered in the 1973 War. An unprecedented growth of
the military forces took place. This period was characterized by an emphasis on
the strengthening of Israel’s defensive posture, i.e., the ability to absorb an Arab
first attack to be followed by an Israeli counter-attack.
In the second period we can discern a shift from the quantitative aspect of
Israel’s arms competition with her Arab opponents in favor of the qualitative
aspect. In addition, a system of casus belli was reintroduced and a greater
predilection for pre-emptive strikes was adopted.
The two periods are indeed distinguishable not only by the content of their military thinking but also by differing leaders, ideologies and temperaments. Israel
was ruled during most of the first period by Rabin’s Labour-dominated government (June 1974 to June 1977), while the Chief of Staff for most of the period was
the Labour-picked Lt. Gen. Mordechai Gur (April 1974 to April 1978).3
In 1977, Labour was succeeded by Begin’s Likud-dominated government. In
1978, Gur was replaced by Lt. Gen. Rafael Eitan, who is ideologically closer to
the Likud. The main changes in Israeli strategic thinking in the second period
are connected however to Ariel Sharon’s ascendance in security affairs. After
Moshe Dayan resigned from his post as foreign minister in October 1979 and
Ezer Weizman, the defense minister, did the same in May 1980, Sharon became
the dominant figure in Israel’s defense policy. Indeed, after the 1981 election, he
was elevated from the Ministry of Agriculture to the Defence Ministry.
Under Rabin, Israel’s immediate goals were to rebuild an adequate and confident military force and to delay a war with the Arabs until political circumstances improved and until the IDF was militarily ready for such an encounter.4
Washington was needed for both objectives. The US was Israel’s sole military
supplier and the only country capable of giving massive support, and, moreover,
was regarded by Israel as sensitive enough to its security needs to be relied on as
a mediator. Therefore, Israel made the necessary concessions to reach the
September 1975 agreement. Yet Israel succeeded in greatly reducing Egypt’s
incentive to go to war in the near future, thus weakening the Arab coalition, and
managed to secure its arms supply.
Indeed, Begin inherited a well-armed Israel with greater freedom of action
than it had enjoyed earlier. The Begin government continued the strong American
orientation and succeeded in further reducing the likelihood of Egypt joining a
war against Israel. Yet, due to Begin’s nationalistic ideology, temperament and
belief that Israel is an indispensable ally of the US, and due to his greater ability
to withstand American pressure, Israel displayed fewer inhibitions in carrying out
policies causing tension between Jerusalem and Washington. Furthermore, its
tendency to threaten the use of military force increased. By the time Begin came
Israeli strategic thinking after 1973
5
to power, Israel had overcome the material and psychological problems of
waging war which had existed in the first years following the October War.
The first period
The defensive strategy
Israel is a status quo power in that it has no further territorial claims, while its
Arab neighbors aim for land and entertain dark dreams of politicide. Before
1967, Israel, although defensive from the strategic point of view, adopted military doctrine based upon a system of casus belli, according to which preventive
or pre-emptive attacks would transfer the battle to enemy territory.5
After June 1967, Israel altered this approach in the belief that the strategic
depth its new borders provided had eliminated the threat to its existence, and
enabled it to absorb an Arab first strike.6 This reasoning was based on the theory
of the ‘superiority of the defense’ – that the defender enjoys an advantage since
the attacker had to expose himself and, ceteris paribus, requires several times as
many men and resources.7
In light of the October War, some analysts advocated that the IDF relied on
the attack, and renewed its predilection for pre-emptive strikes of the kind seen
in 1956 and 1967.8 Chief of Staff Gur seemed, at first glance, to confirm a
change. He said, ‘It is important that the world and our neighbours know that,
under certain conditions, we leave open the option of starting the next war.’9
Nevertheless, contrary to general interpretations, Israel did not revert to its
pre-1967 doctrine immediately following the Yom Kippur War. In fact, it continued to maintain that it could afford to absorb an Arab first strike. Yigal Allon
emphasized that only with secure borders could Israel adopt a defensive posture
which would enable the small standing army units of Israel’s Defense Force to
hold back the invading Arab armies until most of the country’s reserves could be
mobilized. These security zones would thus guarantee enough time to launch the
counter-offensive needed to defeat any such aggression.10 Allon also specifically
rejected any Israeli plan for preventive war: ‘Israel will never launch a preventive
war because of practical considerations and matters of principle alike.’11 Because
of his greater sensitivity to Israel’s image abroad, Allon as Minister of Foreign
Affairs was probably a little over-zealous in this statement. In fact, Allon did not
preclude a preventive air strike in the case of repeated threatening concentrations
of Arab forces at Israel’s borders.12 However, he preferred that his better judgment did not attract publicity. Shimon Peres, the Defense Minister, also believed
that talking about the possibility of a pre-emptive strike was politically unwise.
Peres actually believed that, for political reasons, Israel should, as far as possible,
avoid pre-emptive strikes, even in case of clear signs of imminent Arab attack.13
Rabin also diminished the importance of a pre-emptive war as long as Israel
was deployed in the post-1967 lines. He added another condition however: an
adequate supply of arms from American or Israeli sources.14 The government was
obviously not interested in fostering an image of an ‘aggressive’ Israel. This
6
The aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War
position suited the perceived growing isolation of Israel and the foreseeable diplomatic repercussions an Israeli-initiated attack could induce. Therefore, Rabin
expressed the government’s displeasure with Chief of Staff Gur’s declarations.15
Nevertheless, Rabin’s two conditions constituted a veiled threat, particularly
against the US, to the effect that Israel could initiate the destabilization of the
region if weapons became unavailable and if it were pushed into an untenable
geopolitical position. Rabin’s American orientation required him to accommodate Israeli policies to those of the US, but without entirely giving up Israel’s
potential for non-cooperation.
Indeed, the primary consideration against a renewed emphasis on a preemptive strike was the American position against it. Before October 1973,
Kissinger had for months warned the Israelis not to launch a pre-emptive strike.
The warnings were accompanied by forecasts of doom if Israel were to ignore his
counsel.16 Rabin was the courier for many of those messages. No doubt this
experience reinforced his inclination not to recommend military action against
Washington’s wishes.17 Kissinger continued to signal his opposition to an Israeli
pre-emptive posture in the post-October War period.18 His close relations with the
Israeli high policy elite left no doubt as to the American preference. The Israeli
government was obviously aware that an ‘aggressive’ Israel might stand alone.
Not only politicians sensitive to international considerations advocated a
strategic defensive posture. The Israeli military shared this thinking in spite of
the Yom Kippur War shock. Gur, in an interview with Bamahane, the IDF
organ, said,
After the Six Day War, having more comfortable land borders, more distant
from centres of population, Israel added the option of absorbing a first strike
by the enemy. After the Yom Kippur War we in the government and in the
General Staff continued to hold the same view.19
Lt. Gen. Rafael Eitan, the present Chief of Staff, a paratrooper officer of great
repute and of unquestionable offensive-minded credentials, confirmed, when in
charge of the Northern Command, all that Gur had claimed. He said,
There is no need to describe as constraining a situation in which Israel is
forced to fight a defensive war. Most of the Syrian army was destroyed in
the Yom Kippur War in the defensive battle. When an army is well prepared
and ready for the coming attack, it is much easier to annihilate the enemy
when on the defensive.20
The uselessness of a defensive posture was not one of the lessons learned by
the IDF following its initial failures in the October 1973 War.21 Rather, it concluded that the defensive posture had to be augmented with several elements
found wanting in 1973.
In the post-October War period Israel, as elabourated below, enhanced its strategic defensive posture and lowered the public profile of its offensive capacity
Israeli strategic thinking after 1973
7
due to growing international constraints and military factors. Yet it was argued
that Israel did not have the resources to win a war by defense alone. The Arabs,
richer in manpower and material, could outlast Israel in such a war. Moreover, if
Israel gave up offensive measures the Arabs could divert resources from protecting areas from possible attack to offensive uses. In addition, Israel needed a quick
and decisive victory in order to pre-empt superpower intervention.22 The Israelis
had been aware of a time limitation to their military operations in previous wars,
but since they perceived greater international constraints after 1973, the need to
attain fast achievements grew.
Therefore, Israel’s military thought not only advocated thwarting an Arab
attack and inflicting, when on the defensive, unbearable damage on the enemy;
the defence was to be only the first stage of the next Middle East war. Israel
envisaged three main objectives in the next encounter: (1) the destruction of
enemy forces before the intrusion of the extra-regional powers; (2) the attainment of territorial achievements to gain a better negotiating stand; and (3) the
breaking of the Arab will and ability to wage war through the destruction of
Arab forces and infrastructures.23
A decisive victory could be achieved only by quickly invading previously
Arab-held positions in order to destroy the retreating Arab armies and end the
war with a territorial position which would aid the bargaining process. Gur said,
I do not believe there is any possibility of achieving a decisive victory by
defense alone. A certain measure of victory may be achieved, for a time, but
it cannot be decisive. A clear decision can only be achieved through offensive measures. Of course, this does not preclude the use of defensive tactics
for some time.24
It was also expected that the international climate following Arab aggression
would be more comfortable, allowing Israel to conduct the desired military
operations. Further, in light of the American involvement in achieving the Middle
East agreements, an Arab attack might provoke some American opposition. This
might mean a measure of political support for an Israeli counter-offensive.
Diminished deterrence
In the first period, Israel’s growing reliance on its ability to absorb an Arab first
strike also derived from its realization that its deterrent power had been weakened. The Arabs viewed the October 1973 War as a victory, and their initial successes had destroyed the myth of Israeli invincibility. In addition, in spite of the
American airlift in 1973, a similar demonstration of US support, such an important element in Israel’s power to deter was less likely in the future due to the
growing tensions between Israel and its extra-regional ally, the US.
Moreover, as mentioned, the Arabs learned that because of their increased
international power their battlefield results were not necessarily directly correlated with the diplomatic results. Therefore, the possibility of military defeat lost
8
The aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War
some of its deterrent value, and the probability of Arab military operations
against Israel increased. Rabin correctly observed,
Because the Arabs no longer fear a military defeat, it seems to me that it is
necessary for us to change our military doctrine so as to build the IDF with
the aim of decisively subduing the enemy, rather than deterring him.25
To some extent, Israel tried to enhance its deterrent power by announcing that in
any future encounter it would no longer concentrate only on destroying the Arab
armies involved, but would also seek to destroy its opponents’ economic infrastructure. Peres said, ‘We shall also have to make it clear that any Arab country
which decides to go to war will have to expend some of her resources in protecting its rear.’26 The Israeli bombing and shelling (from the sea) of Syrian
economic targets in 1973 lent credibility to the Israeli threat.
The Israeli emphasis on a defensive strategic posture did not preclude,
however, the possibility of initiating military operations. Eitan, when discussing
the advantages of the defense, added, ‘I do not mean that Israel should not take
the initial offensive if and when the circumstances warrant it.’27 Eitan was obviously aware of the political factors at work. Yet, the cautious Eitan did not
refrain from counting pre-emption among Israel’s options; it would have been
politically and militarily unwise not to do so. There was no need to reduce
further the Arab uncertainty regarding Israel’s intentions. Gur’s declarations on
pre-emption should be viewed in the same light.28
Categorically ruling out pre-emption as one of the scenarios in Israel’s repertoire could also reduce Israel’s leverage on the US. The latent threat to destabilize the region was one of the few levers Israel could use to secure adequate
American support. The Rabin government preferred to underplay the preemption possibility. Canceling it was not opportune.
Enhancement of the defensive strategy
Israel prepared for the possibility of an Arab military offensive and gave less
priority to increasing its deterrent power. Israel took several measures to
improve its capacity to recover successfully from an Arab first strike to prevent
the recurrence of what happened in the first days of the 1973 War. Israel became
interested in demilitarization and tripwire arrangements, dramatically expanded
its armed forces, relied on new defensive weapon systems and re-adopted the
territorial defense.
Demilitarization and tripwire arrangements
In the period of 1967 to 1973, a crucial weak point in Israel’s forces deployment
had been the lack of warning space on land; Egypt and Syria took advantage of
this to surprise Israel on 6 October.29 The Israeli Security Establishment was
very concerned about being surprised a second time. It understood very well that
Israeli strategic thinking after 1973
9
the political environment would hardly condone an Israeli pre-emptive attack,
while it would be less severe toward an Arab surprise attack. Being sensitized to
the political elements of the strategic equation, Israel realized that the first stage
of the war was likely to determine its political outcome.30 For an isolated and
dependent state which loses the first round on the battlefield, political recovery
is more difficult than military recuperation.
To rectify the situation, Israel envisaged measures to slow the transition to a
full-scale confrontation, or to give Israel warning of impending attack. This was
to enable the IDF to mobilize its reserves. For example, Israel came to regard the
establishment of demilitarized areas between the IDF and Arab forces in such a
light. The demilitarized areas gave Israel some warning space and added a political burden on violating the demilitarization agreement. An additional political
obstacle to a surprise attack was the presence of UN forces on the Egyptian and
Syrian fronts.31 The UN forces could be largely ignored by the military planners
of an Arab attack, since they were not expected to fight. Moreover, a unilateral
Arab decision to dispense with the UN contingent would not necessarily lead to
a greater international understanding of Israel’s subsequent military action. Yet
the fact that its removal was considered politically necessary could serve as a
warning to Israel.
Israel’s willingness to withdraw from the conquered territories due to be
demilitarized, and its readiness to accept a UN presence, which had been absent
before 1973, was also closely linked to its isolation. The pressure for relinquishing the territories had grown, particularly from the US. After agreeing to withdraw, the demand for some form of demilitarization of the evacuated area
seemed reasonable. More important in Israeli eyes was the American role in
achieving the agreements with Syria and Egypt. The US lent its prestige to the
stability of the agreements, even going so far as to commit its own personnel. In
fact, the United States constituted the greatest political obstacle to an Arab violation of the accords. Washington was not expected to be overly strict about
exactly carrying out the demilitarization articles, but a pre-emptive attack would
be considered a serious blow to its stabilization efforts. The Israeli insistence on
the American tripwire and on early warning arrangements also ensured the
unlikelihood of a pre-emptive attack. Israel’s efforts at erecting demilitarized
zones and political hurdles, which could also hinder an Israeli surprise attack,
suggest, therefore, a much greater concern with a possible Arab-initiated assault
than with any pre-emptive planning.
Demilitarization also had another advantage: it could reconcile the continued
emphasis on mobile offensive weapon systems and tactics with the defensive
strategy. The post-1967 strategic thinking was ambiguous with regard to the
proper role to be played by the Sinai defense system. The lack of doctrinal
integration between the defensive strategy and the favored offensive tactics was
a weak point which the 1973 War revealed.32
Many in the Israeli Defense Establishment still preferred to hold as much
as possible of the Sinai Desert. Rabin and Gur had a hard time convincing the
experts of the advantages of demilitarization, before the conclusion of the
10
The aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War
September 1975 Sinai II Agreement.33 In the Sinai II Agreement, Israel made
sure that no Egyptian land attack could be launched under the umbrella of an
anti-aircraft missile system. Moreover, the wide demilitarized zones could enable
the IDF to put its predilection for offensive tactics to good use against a charging
Egyptian army lacking aerial support. The demilitarized area contributed, therefore, not only by adding warning time, but also by bridging the gap between the
strategic defensive posture and the Israeli preference for mobile tactics.
The quantitative emphasis
A major departure from previous military thinking was the determination to
establish, as fast as possible, an army much larger than before the 1973 War.
Indeed, following the war, Israel presented the US with an impressive shopping
list.34 There were several reasons for this new quantitative emphasis. First, Israel
wanted a larger army with a greater firepower to avoid collapse if surprised
again. A small state has more to fear from strategic surprise than a large one,
since it has little strategic depth. It has to stop the enemy at the outer limits of its
vital centers. Therefore, what matters is not military potential, but immediately
available military power.35 Before 1973, Israel believed it could detect in
advance any impending Arab attack, but afterwards it realized that an Arab surprise attack could not be ruled out in the future.
Second, as mentioned already, Israel’s weakened deterrence increased the
probability of an Arab military initiative. The operational implication of the
reduced deterrence was the need to have greater forces to hold the border lines,
as well as the need to have more units on alert. This required a larger army.
Third, the October War highlighted the neglect in firepower capacity, which
had resulted from the Israeli emphasis on mobility. The Arab quantitative
advantage, therefore, had to be matched by an addition to the IDF’s firepower.36
Fourth, Israel hoped to establish a force large enough to enable her to mount
a counter-offensive on two fronts simultaneously.37 Israel desired to accumulate
enough military muscle to smash the Arab armies before the superpowers could
intervene.
Fifth, Israel calculated that in the next Arab-Israeli round the Arabs would
field larger armies. The neighboring Arab countries’ armies were expected to
grow and to be joined by significant contingents from more distant Arab countries. The Israeli requirements were also a response to a massive weapons transfer from the US to Arab countries.
Sixth, Israel expected a higher attrition rate in the next military encounter
than that in 1973. The greater destructive power and accuracy of weapons, as
well as the expected increase in the size of the opponents’ armies, led Israel to
this conclusion. Therefore it wanted to have enough stocks of weapons, spare
parts and ammunition to last through a war without needing an American airlift.
The 1973 American airlift epitomized the political constraints that prevented an
unequivocal victory over Egypt in the October War. Any airlift also underscored
Israel’s dependence, which of course damaged Israeli interests. Further, Israel
Israeli strategic thinking after 1973
11
did not expect a recurrence of the political circumstances that had led to the
American decision to aid Israel so conspicuously in 1973.
Indeed, in the first period the total size of the military establishment was
expanded. Close to 50,000 men and women were added by tightening service
regulations and by drawing upon categories that previously had been exempted.
In addition, many areas previously limited to men were opened to women. The
IDF also attempted to raise the level of military skills, reducing the differential
between second and first line units.38
The Rabin government was also quite successful in its weapon procurement
plan and in its attempt to significantly enlarge the IDF. By June 1977, Israel had
replaced all its losses in material. Moreover, the tank force increased by
50 percent; the artillery by 100 percent; armored personnel carriers by 800
percent; and aircraft by 30 percent. The qualitative changes in the Israeli arsenal
were just as impressive.39
Technological improvements
Improvements in weapons systems also enhanced defensive capacity. Qualitative changes apparently tipped the balance between defensive systems and offensive systems, making an invasion a costlier enterprise.40 New technologies
exerted their greatest effect on battlefield dynamics by increasing the effectiveness of firepower. Weapons such as Precision-Guided Munitions can slow an
invading force and extract a heavier toll than before. Israel was well aware that
the recent developments made attacks costlier and more complicated.41 The IDF
also equipped itself with the latest weapons, for example, developing, according
to Gur, a defensive concept which made use of mobile anti-tank units.42 The IDF
was attracted to the possibility of erecting instant barriers (e.g., rapidly laid
minefields) and using area munitions to block the penetration of invading forces.
Fortifications
An intensive fortification effort designed to improve the capability of absorbing
a first Arab strike was implemented after the 1973 War. Peres included the
fortification of the Israeli borders as one of the three main goals of the Defense
Ministry during his tenure there. The fortifications were concentrated in the
Golan, the Jordan Valley, the Lebanese border and the lines in Sinai. Wherever possible, the fortifications were incorporated into the territorial defense
infrastructure.43
The territorial defense
Another striking change in Israeli military thinking was the renewed emphasis
on territorial defense, which had been neglected in the 1967 to 1973 period. The
territorial defense44 was a system of fortified settlements located on possible
invasion routes, meant to stop or delay the enemy until the IDF completed the
12
The aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War
mobilization of reserves and the concentration of forces for the counter-attack.
This system provided an artificial strategic depth and allowed the bulk of the
IDF to transfer the war into the enemy’s territory. Defense in depth also freed up
first-grade manpower, since it made optimum use of manpower with no alternative battle use such as teenagers, women and older people.
In the light of the October War experience, in the course of which the
Golan settlements had to be evacuated, it was argued that in conditions of
modern warfare (characterized by great firepower and speed) such settlements
were not a strategic asset, but rather a military liability. In 1973, the Northern
Command was forced to divert some of its scarce forces from the desperate
effort to slow the Syrian advance in order to evacuate those settlements. The
supporters of defense in depth claimed, with justice, that the defense network
did not stand up in 1973 because the settlements had simply been unprepared
for a Syrian attack. Allon, a fervent advocate of defence in depth, said, ‘a settlement that is not fortified and not equipped with sophisticated weapons can
become a liability. But the same settlement, equipped with well trained settlers, can be very effective in checking the enemy advance.’45 In spite of the
ethos of settlements being a security asset, little had been done until 1973 on
the Golan or elsewhere to incorporate them into a defense system. This was
another contradiction between the strategic defensive posture and the operative offensive tactics.
Following the October War, the vigorous discussion in the IDF General
Staff resulted in the formulation of a revised territorial defense concept in July
1974.46 The plan called for the preparation of each settlement to withstand
massive tank, artillery, infantry and commando assaults. The settlements were
to be fortified (by a system of linked strongholds) and supplied with tanks,
anti-tank guns and missiles, recoilless guns and mortars, as well as modern
communication equipment. The manpower, to include local men above reserve
age, 17-to-18-year-olds, and women – complemented if necessary by outside
troops – was to be trained periodically in the use of the various weapons, and
maneuvers were to be held to ensure fast mobilization and posting in case of
emergency.
The plan has been gradually implemented, although at a slower rate than the
settlers had desired, due to financial constraints. Since 1974, the Rabin government has planned and built new settlements in accordance with the territorial
defense doctrinal requirements and in consonance with the tentative map of the
future borders.
As early as the pre-state period, the settlement policy displayed an intertwining of political and security considerations. The renewed emphasis on defense in
depth served transient political needs as well: it strengthened the arguments for
holding a defensive strategic posture which fitted the growing political constraints on Israeli military action, but also provided ammunition to answer the
increased criticism, both internal and from abroad, of the Israeli settlement
policy in the administered territories. The territorial defense was nevertheless
primarily an additional measure taken by the Rabin government to improve the
Israeli strategic thinking after 1973
13
IDF capacity to withstand an Arab attack, to be followed by a decisive counteroffensive as its defensive strategy required.
To sum up the first period: following the October 1973 War, Israel retained
its defensive strategic posture for political and military reasons. It attempted,
however, primarily by political means, to reduce the chances of an Arab surprise
attack, and hoped to slow the transition to a full-scale war. In addition, doctrinal
and technological changes were adopted to strengthen Israel’s defensive posture.
The second period
Gradual changes
In the first period the Israeli strategic thinking was primarily latent; in contrast,
the second has seen the articulated presentation of Sharon’s ideas, which have
perhaps taken the form of an incipient doctrine. Sharon’s views, which had
been aired piecemeal, were brought together for the first time in the speech he
delivered at an international symposium on strategic problems, held at Tel Aviv
University.47 This speech marked a clear departure from the first period of
thinking.
After Labour was ousted from power the process by which Israel changed its
basically defensive posture was quite gradual. There were several reasons why
the Begin government held back from the immediate introduction of substantial
changes. The first two are of an institutional character. First, it took time for
Begin’s people, most of whom had been in the opposition for years and were
novices to government, to adapt to their new position and assert their hawkish
views. Second, the West greeted the new government with great concern and
even alarm, which led Begin to prefer to emphasize continuity rather than
change. Yet the Begin government nonetheless proved less apprehensive about
international constraints on its defense policies than had the previous government of the cautious Rabin. This eventually led to several changes in Israel’s
strategic thinking, despite the initial target of respectability. This quest for
Western acceptance delayed personal and doctrinal changes in the security
establishment. Third, in the late 1970s the IDF and the defense establishment
were still mainly concerned with growth and the digestion of the huge quantities of military hardware that were procured. Israel continued to make efforts
not to fall too much behind the Arabs in the quantitative arms competition.
Fourth, after Sadat came to Jerusalem in October 1977, and until the Peace
Treaty was concluded in March 1979, Israel’s high policy elite was almost
solely preoccupied with the negotiations with Egypt. It was only after the
Treaty had been signed that Israel realized that it had returned practically to
the 1967 borders. Israel felt it had actually lost strategic depth, even though the
Sinai Desert was to be largely demilitarized. Fifth, Israelis came to perceive
that an effective loss of strategic depth had gradually taken place on Israel’s
eastern border. The size and quality of the arsenals of Jordan, Iraq, Syria and
Saudi Arabia were perceived as gradually neutralizing the territorial advantages
14
The aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War
conferred on Israel by its control of Judea, Samaria and the Golan Heights.
Sharon said:
What should be realized is that, because of the nature of military forces,
which are highly mobile, armored and mechanized, instead of consisting
mainly of infantry, as in the past, and because of the range of weapon
systems in the Arab order of battle including missiles and intelligence
means which cover the whole of the Israeli territory, we face on our present
borders the very same defense problems we had on our 1967 lines.48
Sixth, the changes in the Israeli military doctrine are connected to Sharon’s
impact on strategic thinking. As mentioned, his ascendance in national security
affairs became of consequence only in 1980.
Changes were not immediate, but they were drastic when they were finally
made. In the past Israel considered the Arab refusal to accept Israel’s existence
to be the main external threat. The Begin government added, however, an additional source of threat – the Soviet Union. Sharon, for example, said,
Our main security problems during the 1980s will stem from external
threats . . . from two sources, namely: One – the Arab confrontation; second –
the Soviet expansion which both builds on the Arab confrontation and at the
same time provides it with its main political and military tools.49
Since the beginning of the Soviet penetration in the Middle East, Israel has
always feared the consequences of Soviet support to Arab countries. There were
also occasionally considerable apprehensions about a possible Soviet-Israeli
clash. Labour governments in the past had been careful, however, to minimize
the tensions with the Soviet Union, since it was considered that a confrontation
with a superpower promised to bring no benefits, and threatened to increase
Israel’s risks. Past governments have never defined the Soviet Union as an external threat to Israel. The greater anti-Soviet emphasis in the Israeli defense and
foreign policy has two causes: Begin and many of his entourage have always
been vehement anti-communists. Ideology and past personal experiences
making Begin an ardent anti-Soviet;50 and Soviet expansion in the Middle East,
particularly after the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan and the fall of the Shah in
Iran, was indeed threatening all pro-Western countries. Many countries in the
Middle East and elsewhere expressed a similar concern.
As a result of these anxieties, Israel extended its security concerns far beyond
its immediate Arab neighbors and the more distant hostile Arab countries. As
Sharon said, ‘Israel’s sphere of strategic and security interests must be broadened
in the 1980s to countries such as Turkey, Iran and Pakistan, and regions such as
the Persian Gulf and Africa, particularly in the countries of North and Central
Africa.’51 Israel has in the past shown interest in the countries of the periphery of
the core Middle East region (e.g., Turkey, Iran and Ethiopia),52 but its military
doctrine has not defined Israel’s security interests on such a global scale.
Israeli strategic thinking after 1973
15
Under Begin, Israel viewed itself as an anti-communist agent and as an
obvious ally of the US. The anti-Soviet rhetoric of the Reagan Administration
was welcomed in Jerusalem, as the Israeli government held similar views.
Indeed, Israel convinced Washington to sign a Memorandum of Understanding
on Strategic Cooperation, which was directed against the Soviet Union and its
regional allies.53 The extent of Israel’s commitment to participate in action
beyond its borders against Soviet or proxy forces was not entirely clear, or how
legally binding the Memorandum was on both parties. Yet it was the first time
that Israel had signed a document which identified the Soviet Union as its
enemy.
The anti-Soviet tone in Israel’s foreign policy fitted well the overall ‘American orientation’ of Israel’s foreign policy. In spite of the fact that such orientation led to a greater sensitivity to American desires, Israel under Begin did not
hesitate to undertake actions not coordinated with Washington and which caused
uneasiness to its extra-regional ally. The striking examples are the destruction of
the Iraqi nuclear reactor and the annexation of the Golan Heights. The relations
with the US were obviously seen by Israel as one of the most important components of Israel’s national security. A discussion of these relations is beyond
the scope of this chapter, but it should be made clear that the Begin government
believed that Israel had greater freedom of action than previous governments
precisely because it saw Israel as indispensable to the American struggle to
contain Soviet expansionism.
Furthermore, Israel’s freedom of action in the short run was guaranteed by
the time Begin came to power because the IDF was well equipped, and its stores
were full enough to wage war without needing an American airlift, or to withstand temporary suspensions in the delivery of arms, or other sanctions on the
part of the United States. The Reagan Administration took actions against Israel
without precedent in the history of the relations between the two countries. It
suspended the delivery of aircraft after contracts were signed, and suspended the
implementation of the Memorandum of Understanding on Strategic Cooperation, also a signed document. Those sanctions had little impact on Israeli
policies. Israel under Begin has gradually come to see itself as an anti-Soviet
agent. As such it believed it had greater latitude because of the tacit mutual
interests of many countries in the Middle East and outside of which shared its
anti-Soviet tone.
All this notwithstanding, Israel’s military was preoccupied with meeting
regional threats stemming from developments in the Arab armies. Since 1973
these included the growing military capabilities of the more distant Arab countries. It was feared that those countries could threaten Israel, as Sharon said,
‘Either by means of sending expeditionary forces to the confrontation area, or
even by direct air and naval action against our naval lanes of communication.’54
Early on, the IDF acquired a greater capability to act further away from home
bases, as the Entebbe rescue operation indicated. Yet this enhanced capability to
project force, especially by sea and by air, was given greater emphasis under
Sharon. As the IDF recuperated from the 1973 War and as Israel asserted its
16
The aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War
greater capability and freedom to act, its deterrent power, as analysed below,
increased. The Soviet Union was added as an enemy to the growing Arab
armies. The possibility of facing Russian troops became more tangible to the
Israeli decision-makers. The belief that Israel enjoyed considerably greater
freedom of action, enhanced deterrence coupled with a feeling of acute security
problems, all new characteristics of the second period, led Israel to abandon its
defensive posture to adopt a system of casus belli.
Enhanced deterrence
The defensive posture in the 1970s was also adopted because Israel’s deterring
power diminished following the initial Arab military successes in 1973, and
their subsequent political achievements. Yet, in the second period, it seems that
Israel’s deterring power was enhanced. Deterrence is primarily a function of the
military capability and the estimated intentions of a nation’s leadership to use
the military potential at its disposal.55
As mentioned already, by the end of the previous decade Israel’s arsenal was
quite impressive. Israel succeeded in maintaining an acceptable quantitative
ratio of 1:3 with respect to the combined Arab arsenals. In terms of the quality
of its weapons and its manpower Israel continued to hold an advantage. Military
analysts judged that Israel had corrected most of the deficiencies revealed in
1973, and that the IDF had been transformed into a first-class war machine. The
IDF also managed to attain several spectacular achievements, such as the
Entebbe rescue operation in July 1976, and the destruction of the Iraqi nuclear
reactor in June 1981, which seemed to confirm Israel’s military superiority. The
intention to use force is, however, just as important as the capacity to act in
order to maintain deterrence. The credibility of Israel’s determination to use its
military power increased considerably after Begin came to power. Begin’s
hawkish image abroad obviously enhanced Israel’s deterrence. His current
defense minister, Sharon, also seems quite effective in propagating the image of
an Israel ready to fight for its interests. The more aggressive and reckless image
fostered by Soviet and Arab propaganda is generally harmful to Israel, but, in
the sphere of deterrence, it is of service to the country. Israel under Begin is perceived as a country which can be easily pushed into a ‘crazy state’ posture.56
Further, Begin and Sharon seem more willing to use force than their Labour predecessors to achieve political ends beyond Israel’s borders.
Those images are reinforced by Israeli declarations and actions. Begin and
several of his ministers savor the feeling of power. In public statements there is a
greater tendency to emphasize Israel’s might and to threaten Israel’s neighbors
with military action. The Begin government seems also to be less versed than its
Labour predecessor in the art of applying measured force. The government threatens to use massive force and uses it, at a higher public profile than before. For
example, Israel was the first to announce the destruction of the Iraqi reactor.
Greater discretion could have been less embarrassing for the Arabs and probably
for the West. Another example is Israel’s use of force in Lebanon. Begin was less
Israeli strategic thinking after 1973
17
reluctant than his predecessor to use air strikes there, in spite of the greater publicity such raids receive and in spite of the potential for greater collateral damage.57
Begin and Sharon did not hesitate to engage Syrian forces in Lebanon, in spite of
the possibility of escalation. Israel conducted sweeping land operations in
Lebanon in March 1978 and in June 1982. This last incursion had political goals
previously uncontemplated.58 Thus, the hawkish image of Begin and Sharon
coupled with declarative aggressiveness and occasional military action lent greater
credibility to Israel’s declared resolution to fight under certain circumstances.
Another factor that contributed to Israel’s enhanced deterrence is the Peace
Treaty with Egypt, which to a great extent severs Egypt from other layers of the
Arab–Israeli conflict. Egypt is the most powerful opponent of Israel. Egyptian
policy toward Israel following the completion of the withdrawal from Sinai
might become cooler, but so long as it continues its American orientation it
would be hesitant to join in a military enterprise against Israel. The US is a
partner to the Peace Treaty, and would hardly condone an Egyptian military
adventure against Israel.
Further, Egypt is in the middle of the process of converting its military forces
to American equipment, the successful completion of which could take some
years. The American weapon production capacity is relatively limited and the
supply schedule of the Egyptians is stretched over several years. A greater difficulty in the conversion process proves to be the limited technical capability of
the Egyptians to maintain sophisticated weapon systems.
Therefore, Egypt’s contractual obligations stemming from the Peace Treaty
with Israel, its American orientation and its weapon procurement program from
the West neutralize it to a great extent for some period from taking an active role
in a military encounter with Israel. This enables Israel to avoid fighting on two
fronts and significantly diminishes the forces at the disposal of the Arab military
effort. This situation enhances Israel’s deterrence on the Eastern Front. The
Peace Treaty, however, has become an additional political constraint on Israel’s
freedom of actions. One consequence of the Treaty is a greater Israeli consideration for Egyptian sensitivities to Israeli-initiated regional moves.
The reintroduction of casus belli
Sharon’s tenure as defense minister has been characterized by the reintroduction
of a system of casus belli in Israel’s military doctrine which had been absent
since 1967. Several reasons, including personal factors, can be mentioned to
explain this change. Sharon’s personal convictions contributed to the reformation of Israel’s strategic thinking. In addition, Gur, who ardently opposed the
concept of casus belli, was no longer chief of staff and had no influence over
doctrine.
Apart from personal considerations, several substantive developments led
Israel to display a greater tendency in the 1980s than in the previous decade to
threaten pre-emptive strikes. As mentioned, the dimensions and the quality of
the arms transfer to the Arab countries, which had taken place in the 1970s and
18
The aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War
which had continued in the 1980s, as well as the withdrawal from Sinai, made
Israel feel vulnerable and in a position that was essentially the same as that
before the 1967 War.
Furthermore, Israel realized that it had reached the limit of quantitative
growth in its military forces. The main constraint is manpower. In an interview
with Israeli television, Sharon emphasized,
Israel has stopped participating in the arms race. We are not going to make
any effort to compete with the Arabs in the numbers of weapons. In this we
have reached the end of the road. New arms are developed, and we also
have to replace weapons of earlier generations, but in terms of numbers, we
have no intention to add even one tank or airplane in the coming years.59
Israel seemed to have decided unilaterally not to take part in the regional actors’
attempts to enlarge their armies. Yet, as the Arab armies continue their massive
weapon procurement programs, the ratio of the quantity of Israeli weapons versus
those in the hands of the Arabs will deteriorate. Lacking strategic depth and
facing more numerous and better armed forces on its borders, Israel is less confident that it could successfully absorb a first Arab strike and then proceed to a
decisive counter-offensive. Therefore, such an Arab attack must be pre-empted.
The successful massive weapons procurement program conducted by Begin’s
predecessor facilitated the change to a system of casus belli. By the end of the
1970s, the Israeli defense establishment felt that Israel had recuperated militarily
from the October War and was again militarily ready to fight a war if necessary.
Further, a well-equipped Israel granted the Israeli leadership greater freedom of
action than it had earlier. The Israeli government could be less concerned with
the American reaction to its actions when its arsenal was full. Furthermore, a
system of casus belli can be more easily adopted when the state announcing it
enjoys great credibility. As mentioned, threats by Israel under Begin and Sharon
definitely enjoyed a greater credibility in the Arab world and in the West too.
According to Sharon, ‘Israel intends to prevent any deterioration in the geographic and military status quo in the neighbouring countries.’60 Specifically,
Sharon had in mind the following contingencies which would require an Israeli
response:
1
2
3
4
5
Any violation of the clauses concerning the demilitarization of Sinai in the
1979 Peace Treaty with Egypt, or the demilitarization of the Golan in the
1974 Agreement on the Disengagement of Forces with Syria.
A massive introduction of Iraqi forces to South Syria or Jordan or of Syrian
forces to Jordan.
The deployment of a SAM system along the Jordan river.
The movement of Syrian forces south of the line along which they were
stationed in Lebanon.
The presence of nuclear weapons in an enemy Arab country or the capacity
to produce nuclear devices.
Israeli strategic thinking after 1973
19
It should be noted that even after enunciating a clear set of contingencies which
would be intolerable for Israel, the Israeli reaction was not specified. Actually,
Sharon refused to commit Israel to any specific action in advance, in case the
Arabs crossed what Sharon called a ‘safety valve’. In a policy review before the
Parliamentary Committee for Foreign and Security Affairs, Sharon emphasized
that Israel’s response to a violation of a declared casus belli would not necessarily be a pre-emptive strike. He mentioned that a variety of possible actions was
available.61 In the past such a violation was also not considered a trigger for war,
but rather a warning signal that deterrence had failed.62 Israel retained additional
flexibility by not always clearly defining its casus belli. For example, ‘a massive
introduction of forces’ leaves Israel the liberty to determine whether a concentration of forces is ‘massive’ or not. A concentration of forces along its borders
has always warranted Israeli action or preparations. Yet, since 1981, as it was
until 1967, such a concentration of forces is perceived to be more threatening as
is defined as a casus belli, which is publicly announced.
The failure to mention a Syrian SAM system in Lebanon was a significant
omission. Obviously Israel did not reconcile itself to the introduction of Syrian
SAM batteries in Lebanon, which was cause for an international crisis in spring
1981. Israel has been militarily and psychologically quite sensitive to the presence of SAM systems along its borders ever since the advancement of the
Egyptian SAM systems toward the Suez Canal in summer 1970, in violation of
the Cease Fire Agreement, made possible by the early Egyptian successes in
1973. Indeed, Israel views a SAM system along the Jordan as a casus belli and it
therefore opposes the American plans to supply Jordan with mobile improved
Hawk missiles. In addition, one of the demilitarization clauses of Sinai makes
sure of the absence of SAM batteries there. Already in 1974, Gur stated that
SAMs stationed in Lebanon would become areas of military struggle.63 In
Lebanon, Israel simply waited for an opportunity to restore the status quo ante.
The June 1982 incursion into Lebanon provided such an opportunity. However,
an earlier public announcement of the Syrian missiles being a casus belli, followed by inaction due to American constraints, was politically embarrassing.
The enunciation of a system of casus belli was a departure from the thinking
in the 1970s, with one exception: the Syrian presence in Lebanon. The Rabin
government reluctantly accepted the Syrian military involvement in the
Lebanese Civil War since it was coordinated with the US.64 Yet, it announced
that there were ‘red lines’ which, if crossed by the Syrians, would evoke Israeli
reaction.
The ‘red line’ was primarily the east–west line from Jazin to Zahrani, 25 km
north of the Litani River, but south of Sidon.65 In addition, the ‘red line’ banned
Syrian naval operations on the Lebanese coast, air activity against Syrian opponents and the deployment of missiles in Lebanon.66 The Chief of Staff, Gur,
refused however to commit Israel to any future action by defining the ‘red line’
and called it ‘a dynamic system of military and political considerations that
changed over time’.67 The Rabin government refrained, however, from using the
term casus belli. Changing the weak notion of ‘red line’ into the official casus
20
The aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War
belli is the outcome of the general reversal to a system of casus belli. In addition, this development is also a result of the change in the American perception
of Syria and its role in Lebanon. The Reagan Administration was less inclined to
court Syria, hoping to bring it in to its fold. This enabled Israel to adopt a
harsher position against what was perceived in Jerusalem and in Washington as
a Soviet regional ally.
A new element in Israel’s strategic thinking is the resolution to prevent any
Arab nuclear progress, which might lead to the construction of a nuclear device.
This new aspect of Israeli doctrine is the result of the Arab efforts in the nuclear
field and of the healthy mistrust of the possibility of reaching a stable balance of
terror in the Middle East.68
Israel, acting in accordance with this aspect of its casus belli system, destroyed
the Iraqi reactor (June 1981). This air raid also signaled to the West that Israel
does not rely on Western promises for supervision of nuclear installations.
Sharon’s declaration that Israel’s security interests included countries such as
Pakistan seems to constitute a threat also to the Pakistani nuclear program. Militarily, Israel is hardly in a position to interfere with Pakistan nuclear plans. Yet, clandestine operations are a practical option and Israel could benefit from cooperation
with countries such as India, the Soviet Union and the US in such an endeavor. In
the absence of the desired Nuclear Weapon Free Zone (NWFZ),69 the nuclear
casus belli could also be construed as an Israeli desire to have an effective monopoly of the nuclear option.70 After realizing that it could not participate in the
regional conventional arms competition, Israel possibly decided to block the possibility of extending the arms race to the area of nuclear weapons, since such a
nuclear competition is not perceived to be congenial to Israel’s security.
Israel’s present posture concerning nuclear weapons or capacity in Arab hands
obviously attracts international criticism, since Israel considers action even
against countries party to the Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) – an internationally
binding document. Yet, in spite of such difficulties, Israel can hold such a posture
only as long as the Arab civilian nuclear program is at its beginning and as long
as the Arab states refuse to make peace with Israel. An advanced large civilian
nuclear program producing electricity endows a country with fissionable material
and the technical ability necessary to produce nuclear bombs. Military action
against nuclear power reactors, particularly when supplied by Western countries,
presents great political difficulties. Further, Israel could ill afford to act against a
nuclear reactor in an Arab country which had concluded a peace treaty with
Israel. Thus, under the umbrella of the Peace Treaty with Israel, Egypt could
realize its ambitious nuclear energy program without suffering Israeli sanctions, a
program which could also confer a capability to produce nuclear bombs.71
Israel’s reversal to a casus belli system also constitutes the abandonment of
what was called ‘secure borders’ policy. Secure borders were defined as those
‘borders which can be defended without a pre-emptive initiative’. Within such
borders Israel presumably enjoys some strategic depth. As a result of having
such borders a strategy of absorption of an Arab attack followed by a counterattack could be adopted. Israel now perceives its territory as lacking strategic
Israeli strategic thinking after 1973
21
depth on all fronts. Secure borders are desirable, but the current border line
cannot serve such a function. Therefore, pre-emptive strikes have to be reincorporated into Israel’s military doctrine.
There are two main political problems in implementing the new Israeli doctrine. In order to maintain the credibility of its deterrent power, Israel has to
react to any infringement of the geographic and strategic status quo, as defined
by Sharon. Violations of the casus belli by means of incremental ‘salami’ tactics
would leave Israel the difficult choice of ignoring small transgressions or using
force to rectify the situation. In many capitals, particularly Washington, such
military action might well be considered excessive. In the long run, Israel’s
dependency has not changed, and Israel is still very much in need of US support.
On a number of occasions even the Begin government has seemed to reconsider
its wish to act in south Lebanon, in light of Washington’s displeasure at a military campaign that could escalate into a full-scale war with Syria.
A preventive war in case Israel fears that its deterrence has been eroded
because of the quantitative imbalance involves even greater difficulty. Israel also
has to consider the situation after an initiated military campaign. The tremendously augmented firepower of modern battlefields, of the sort which would be
encountered in the next war, would cause grievous losses in men and material
even if Israel were victorious. Furthermore, Israel is at a marked disadvantage in
replacing men and equipment.
The minimization of casualties has always characterized Israeli military
thinking because the closely knit Israeli society is extremely sensitive to the loss
of life. Therefore, any military campaign has to be well justified in the eyes of
the Israeli public. The Begin government, in contrast to its predecessor, which
had operated from the center of the Israeli political map, holds positions right of
center. This makes the building of consensus for military action more difficult
whenever such action deviates from the national consensus.72 The Labour
opposition is more sensitive to the American factor, and constantly demands
greater restraint and a lower profile. For example, the Labour opposition is critical of the Israeli actions in south Lebanon and particularly those north of the
Litani River, accusing the government of excessive use of force.
Furthermore, a weariness of the protracted conflict may be detected in Israeli
society, reducing its readiness to make sacrifices. This increases the government’s need to have a perfectly justifiable case before ordering the IDF into
action. One such example is the air strike against the Iraqi reactor. In spite of
some criticism, most Israelis did not object to a successful action without any
casualties. On the other hand, reaching Beirut and its price in casualties evoked
greater opposition, in spite of the fact that the June 1982 invasion was also given
a preventive rationale.73
Defensive measures
In spite of the abandonment of the defensive strategic posture, defensive
measures were not neglected. Israel improved its early warning systems and its
22
The aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War
intelligence operations, but still viewed an Arab sudden attack as a contingency
to be taken into consideration. Israel intended therefore ‘to ensure a military
capability to preserve the integrity of Israel’s territory, in any war opening situation including an Arab sudden attack’.74
Israel actually continued to view the demilitarization arrangements and the
political obstacles to war initiation as desirable, in spite of its greater predilection for pre-emptive strikes. The violation of the demilitarization agreements has
been announced to be a casus belli. Israel under Begin even agreed to the stationing of UN forces in South Lebanon in 1978. In 1982 it wanted to substitute
the UN contingent with a Multi-National Force.
Territorial defense was also strengthened. The perceived lack of strategic
depth made territorial defense an imperative in order to improve the situation.
The program to consolidate the territorial defense started in the first period and
was expanded to new areas according to the future borders envisaged by the
Begin government. This government sees the return of Sinai as a territorial
adjustment. It intends to hold on to Judea, Samaria, the Gaza Strip and the Golan
Heights for ideological and strategic reasons. Those regions were considered as
border areas.75
This position, which does not receive the full support of all Jews in Israel, is
defended at home and abroad also on strategic grounds. Begin’s government
adopted Dayan’s strategic thinking concerning Judea and Samaria. This view
places greater value on the mountains’ line than the view prevalent in the
Labour governments, which considered the control of Jordan Valley as strategically significant. More specifically, it was claimed that the Jewish settlements in
Judea and Samaria serve the same security functions as those on the Golan and
along the Jordan River. Most important, the blocs of Jewish settlements divide
the West Bank Arab population in several areas, breaking territorial contiguity,
and helping prevent evolution of a united political entity. The settlements in the
Gaza Strip, along the Egyptian border, serve a similar purpose. They constitute a
Jewish wedge between Egypt and the densely populated Gaza region.
All the new settlements were incorporated into the system of territorial
defense. Many of the settlers were freed from their reserve units to become part
of the territorial defense deployment, whose own units were adequately armed.
Each settlement was also provided with some fortifications. Chief of Staff Eitan
and Defense Minister Sharon have been great believers in territorial defense, a
fact which has given additional impetus to the continuing rehabilitation of this
defensive concept.76
Conclusion
We have distinguished two distinct stages in the evolution of Israeli strategic
thinking since the trauma of 1973. In the first, Israel perceived itself in political
isolation and greatly dependent on the US, which reduced its freedom of action.
Furthermore, Israel needed time to rebuild its army and its confidence. Israel lost
some of its deterring power, but it felt that its borders still provided the country
Israeli strategic thinking after 1973
23
with a margin of security which could be enhanced by incorporating some military and political arrangements. Demilitarization and tripwire arrangements were
sought after.
Israel continued to hold a defensive strategy, i.e., the postponement of the
decisive attack until the Arab first strike. Such a posture required a larger army,
better equipped with defensive weapons and deployed in improved fortified
lines. The defensive strategy was enhanced by the territorial defense. In the first
stage the Israeli-military doctrine resembled the thinking of the period before the
war. However, there was a greater emphasis on quantities and firepower, and
ways were devised to improve the IDF’s ability to be well prepared to absorb an
Arab onslaught.
In the second stage many of the parameters that influenced the strategic
thinking changed. A new government headed by Begin came to power. This
government was less sensitive to the difficulties faced by Israel in the national
arena. Moreover, it believed that its alliance with the US, an important component in its national security, was founded on strategic mutual interests. The
American desires were not considered a serious limitation on Israel’s freedom of
action in matters of great consequence for the security of the country. Militarily,
in contrast to the first period, Israel regained its confidence and had a significantly greater and better equipped fighting force at its disposal. Indeed, its deterring power, as a result of Israel’s military might and the image of its leadership,
improved. Yet the Begin government gradually came to the conclusion that the
qualitative and quantitative developments in the Arab armies had led to a situation territorially similar to the pre-1967 borders. Israel had lost strategic depth
and Arab arsenals had become more threatening. Therefore, in 1981, the Begin
government abandoned its defensive strategy and adopted a military doctrine
that was based on a system of casus belli. Israel actually reversed to thinking
prevalent in the pre-1967 period.
Obviously, such a posture draws international criticism. The Begin government cannot entirely disregard international constraints, yet Israeli public
opinion is the more powerful constraint. Israel is to a great extent weary and the
opposition to Begin’s policies is significant, but when attacked, Israel easily
unites behind its government. Therefore a defensive strategy is politically a
more comfortable position to defend internally and externally than a casus belli
system. The test of the current Israeli strategic thinking may come soon; it
remains to be seen how effective it will be.
2
The American arms transfer
to Israel
The post-1973 Israeli foreign policy has been characterized by a heavy American
orientation. Due to its isolation, the necessity to maintain the American commitment to Israel and to reach an understanding with Washington grew considerably.
This chapter looks at one aspect of the American–Israeli relationship – the arms
transfer – during the 1974 to 1977 period. During those years, a new level of
American assistance was established and the trends of the Israeli long-range
weapon procurement plan emerged. Most of the quantitative and qualitative arms
in the Israeli arsenal were agreed upon during this period. Those were the formative years in the American–Israeli post-October 1973 relationship, as well as in
the modernization of the IDF.
The main factors in the weapons relationship
There were three main parameters of the Israeli–American weapons relationship:
(1) a sole donor–recipient relationship; (2) American ambivalence toward
Israel’s military strength; and (3) the considerably greater Israeli requirements.
One of the most critical aspects of Israel’s political isolation was the dependency upon American weapons for an adequate security level. In contrast to its
Arab opponents who could shop for arms practically anywhere, Israel had access
to American weapons only. Other countries were reluctant to let Israel buy their
military hardware, particularly items of high visibility such as tanks and aircraft.
This sole donor–recipient pattern between the US and Israel was not only the
result of the growing politicization of the arms market;1 Israel, even if able
politically to purchase some weapons elsewhere in the West, was economically
unable to do so. The US paid for or subsidized the Israeli weapons procurement
program.2 Moreover, in terms of the quality desired partially to overcome Arab
numerical superiority, substitutes for some American weapons systems were
simply nonexistent. Israel had to buy from the US for political, economic and
technical reasons.
This sole donor–recipient reality underscored the political context in which the
arms transfer took place. Weapons for Israel were part of American Middle East
policy and their delivery was obviously contingent upon a minimum of understanding between the two parties. Indeed, Israel and the Arab world viewed
The American arms transfer to Israel
25
American weapons as a symbol of American support for Israel. This symbolic
value was of particular importance for Israel after 1973, when its political isolation became evident.
After 1973, Israel was more than ever before willing to make territorial sacrifices in order to secure American understanding of its needs. When Israel went
along with the American desires in the Middle East, one of its objectives was
access to American weaponry. The American interest in reaching Middle East
agreements was used as a lever to secure a satisfactory supply of arms. Shimon
Peres, Minister of Defence in the Rabin government (1974–77) had already
made this crystal clear in 1974. In an interview, Peres expressed to the Americans that Israel would not enter into the next phase of negotiations before receiving weapons they were promised by the US.3 The famous Memorandum of
Understanding between the US and Israel, which was attached to the 1975 Sinai
2 agreement, included important pledges as to the magnitude of the American
military supplies and their quality.
Yet, the linkage between American aid and standing political issues was
problematic for Israel, because it was a double-edged sword. Israel has always
argued that aid should only be considered according to its needs. Rabin, for
example, was aware of this dilemma and preferred not to emphasize this
linkage.4 Indeed, the detailed list of arms required by the IDF was presented to
the Americans after Israel signed the Sinai 2 agreement.5 Nevertheless, Rabin
could not resist taking advantage of the tight 1976 presidential race to pressure
President Ford to sell Israel some sophisticated equipment that the US had
refused to sell in the past.6 Rabin’s successor, Prime Minister Menachem Begin,
also preferred not to emphasize this linkage. In 1978, his government unsuccessfully opposed the linking of the sale of American aircraft to Israel with similar
deliveries to Egypt and Saudi Arabia. Even more indicative of this Israeli preference was the place the arms issue occupied in the American–Israeli negotiations
leading to the Egyptian–Israeli peace treaty. It was a secondary issue and it was
never implied that satisfaction in the weapons area was a condition for progress
in other disputed subjects.7
In spite of growing Israeli needs for weapons and American reluctance to
meet all Israeli requests, Rabin’s government did not view weapons procurement as the central factor in the US–Israeli relationship.8 It was an issue subordinated to what Rabin called ‘strategic coordination’ with the US. Political
understanding also bred military supplies. Disagreement caused uncertainty
about future military sales, as the 1975 reassessment period clearly indicated to
Israeli policy makers. The delay in delivering the F-15s and F-16s by the Reagan
Administration in the summer of 1981 (unprecedented in American–Israeli relations) also emphasized that political understanding was needed to ensure a
regular supply of weapons. The Begin government also aimed at ‘strategic
coordination’ and, due to its predecessor’s successes in securing pledges and
contracts for many military items, could afford to deny, to a great extent, the
link between weapons and standing political issues, this time to Israel’s advantage. Obviously, a well-armed Israel had greater freedom of action.
26
The aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War
A sole donor situation enhances the influence of the supplier in the bilateral
relationship. Yet, as mentioned, it also creates the tendency to identify, politically, the supplier with its client. In this case, this was perceived in Washington
as a disadvantage, since the US preferred not to be viewed in the Middle East as
backing all Israeli policies. Moreover, Washington hoped not to be isolated in its
support of Israel. Indeed, in the area of arms transfer, the US helped Israel to
purchase some items on the European market9 to ‘share’ the responsibility for
helping Israel and not to be isolated in this increasingly (economic and political)
costly enterprise. Furthermore, American weapons manufacturers were not
always inclined to deal directly with Israel in order not to disturb their Arab
clients.10 Sometimes, the items for Israel were sold first to the US military,
which transferred them to their destination.
The Israelis did not have much choice but to buy in America. The Americans,
however, had an ambivalent attitude toward the Israeli efforts to enhance their
military machine. There were advantages in having a well-armed ally in the
Middle East. Yet, this ally was a pariah state. On the one hand, the US did not
want a well-supplied Israel. Such an Israel was less amenable to American pressure. Moreover, it allowed Israel freedom of action, diplomatically and militarily, not necessarily in unison with perceived American interests in the region.
The Americans feared that a strong Israel would engage in a retaliatory policy,
which could embarrass the US. Further, a low-scale activity could escalate into a
major confrontation – a most undesirable development in American eyes.
On the other hand, a less secure Israel, fearing a deterioration of the regional
military balance, could be tempted to launch a preventive war. The US also
feared that Israeli-perceived conventional inferiority could lead to an Israeli
nuclear strategy. A weak Israel could also lead the Arabs into the belief that military victory was possible and American aid improbable. An Arab attack on a
weakened Israel could force the US to organize an airlift to Israel. American
inaction could erode US credibility. Yet such an intervention meant unequivocal
support for the Jewish state in its conflict with the Arabs at a time when the US
wanted to balance its initial commitment to Israel’s security with overtures
toward the Arabs.
The American position has oscillated between those two concerns. The praxis
was determined, however, by the immediate imperatives of US Middle East
policy. Until 1977, most of the weapons received and generous American
funding were connected to the Israeli agreements with Egypt and Syria in 1974
and to the Sinai 2 agreement in 1975.11 Kissinger and others believed that only a
well-armed Israel could make the concessions to the Arabs that the Americans
wanted.12 The arms deals were seen in Washington as an inducement to Israel to
follow American advice. President Carter did not use the issue of military aid as
a lever to extract Israeli concessions. He even tried to capitalize on this attitude
at the polls in 1980. Nevertheless, the Israeli procurement plan was regarded as
too ambitious.
Indeed, following the 1973 October War Israel presented the US with an
impressive shopping list.13 Israel wanted to establish as fast as possible a much
The American arms transfer to Israel
27
larger and better equipped army than before the war. There were several
strategic reasons for this new quantitative emphasis, as elaborated in the previous chapter.
The desire for large stocks also reflected the high command’s desire to create
a feeling of abundance to prevent lower level commanders from establishing
‘private’ stockpiles.14 These three characteristics – the sole donor–recipient relationship; the American ambivalence toward Israel’s military power; and the
growing Israeli needs – were of primary influence in the American–Israeli interaction on the weapons issue.
The continuous dispute over weapons
The US supplied weapons to Israel in the post-1973 period within the framework of a rather fragile political understanding reached by the two countries.
Yet, even when identical interests exist between countries, there are disagreements over policy matters. This is all the more so in the relationship between
Israel and its increasingly reluctant ally, the US, on an issue as delicate as arms
transfer.
There were several constraints on American arms sales to Israel.15 First, the
Americans preferred not to sell weapons of recently developed technology. This
included an array of sophisticated bombs and electronic gadgets. They wanted to
prevent any information about them from falling into unfriendly hands. In addition, there was some concern about Israel possibly copying the newly developed
technology and using it for developing its own arms industry.16
Second, the US was reluctant to supply ‘sensitive’ items which could affect
the bipolar strategic balance if information about them reached the Russians. For
example, Israel was denied certain anti-submarine devices.
Third, Israel followed NATO and countries having a defense treaty with the
US on the formal priority list as to the quality of the weapons and the delivery
timetable of sales abroad.
Fourth, the US was averse to transferring weapons of a ‘provocative’ nature,
i.e., those that could irritate the Arabs. This was particularly true of items considered ‘dirty’ weapons. For example, President Carter denied Israel concussion
bombs.
Fifth, the US was not disposed to provide Israel with expensive systems,
since Israel could not afford them and the US government obviously preferred
not to be left to pay the bill.
Beyond those specific constraints, there was a continuous dispute between the
US and Israel over weapons. The differences of opinion revolved around three
basic issues – the quantity of the weapons to be supplied, their quality and their
delivery schedule.
The Israeli rationale for demanding greater quantities of military equipment
did not appeal in its entirety to the Americans. A simultaneous two-front
counter-offensive capacity did not please the Americans. This could allow Israel
a two-front victory before the US could find ways to benefit politically from the
28
The aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War
war, as it did in 1973. Moreover, Israel could use the counter-offensive capacity
to launch what the US feared more – a preventive attack.
Big Israeli stockpiles also did not suit American policy. The US preferred to
keep Israel on a ‘short leash’ in order to limit its freedom of military action. The
US also did not accept the Israeli forecasts as to the Arab buildup and as to the
degree of participation of additional Arab states in a future conflict.
Furthermore, the US has continuously argued that Israel’s qualitative superiority in manpower and hardware allowed her to be secure with a lower ratio of
Arab to Israeli forces than Israel wanted.17 The Americans also claimed that by
correcting some of the deficiencies exposed in the 1973 War, which the Israelis
did, Israel gained an additional qualitative edge over the Arabs.18 In addition, the
Americans suspected that the Israelis inflated their arms requests figures for bargaining purposes.
Indeed, the Israeli requests presented in 1975 were rather ambitious. Peres
defended those requests on the grounds that he wanted large margins of
security.19 In addition, there was a widespread feeling, particularly in the army,
immediately following the 1973 War and after the conclusion of the September
1975 Sinai 2 agreement, that the Americans were opening their warehouses to
the IDF to choose whatever it desired. American lavishness was expected not
only regarding quantities, but also regarding types of ultra-modern weapons.20
Yet, Rabin and others were irritated by the list of military equipment submitted
to the Americans by the Ministry of Defense. Rabin was primarily concerned
about Israeli credibility in Washington. He wanted to achieve an Israeli reputation for a reliable presentation of its needs. Above all, realizing the growing
reluctance to allocate funds for foreign aid, Rabin did not want to irritate American sensitivities by leading the Americans to believe that the Israelis were exaggerating their demands because the bill was presented to the American
taxpayer.21 Moreover, some items, such as the Pershing ground-to-ground
missile, evoked American suspicions of Israeli nuclear intentions. As a result of
the negative American reaction to the initial list and the re-evaluation within the
Israeli camp, the Israeli weapons requests were rectified.22 The new lists were
definitely more modest, but still left an area of disagreement between the two
countries. Nevertheless, the Israeli adaptation indicated that Rabin’s first priority
was to achieve a positive political atmosphere. Rabin was aware of the American constraints and expressed satisfaction at receiving only 70 to 80 percent of
the weapons requested.23
The quantitative part of the disputed items lent itself to bargaining and acceptable compromises. The Americans were less compromising, however, in regard
to the qualitative aspect of the Israeli procurement plans. The Israelis claimed that
a small country facing powerful enemies needs ultra-sophisticated equipment.24 It
was argued that advancing technology reduced the relative power of small
states.25 This is true when facing a big power. Yet, when confronting regional
opponents, a small industrialized country using advanced technology can be a
match for countries richer in population, land and resources, but less developed.
In addition, as Israel repeatedly pointed out, it faced three technologies: Russian,
The American arms transfer to Israel
29
West European and, unfortunately, also American. Israel was very concerned
about the shipments of modern American weapons to Arab countries. Rabin even
accused the American administration of fostering a quantitative and qualitative
arms race. The qualitative aspect was more threatening.26 Israel under Begin confronted two American presidents on this aspect of US Middle East policy. It
opposed Carter’s plan to sell F-15s to Saudi Arabia in 1978 and, in 1981, hoped
to obstruct Reagan’s intention to provide the Saudis with AWACs and with
equipment designed to upgrade the capabilities of their F-15s. Israel failed to convince the Americans of the dangers of such an arms transfer. Therefore, it was
imperative to acquire the latest weapons.
Advanced weapons were needed by Israel primarily to strengthen the Israel
Air Force (IAF) by acquiring the ability to suppress enemy air defenses.27 The
Air Force retained its first priority in the IDF. The Americans were reluctant to
provide the IAF with such a capability, which could free up the IAF for tactical
support, adding tremendous firepower to an advancing Israeli army.
The Americans even hesitated to supply certain advanced systems which
could be characterized as defensive and therefore stabilizing. Israel was interested in early warning systems to reduce the chances of a new Arab surprise
attack. It emphasized that such equipment could eliminate the need for a preemptive strike. Another example of ‘defensive’ advanced technology the US
was disinclined to sell was night vision equipment. Such items, the Israelis
argued, could prevent infiltration and subsequent acts of retaliation. In both
instances it took considerable time and effort to acquire some of the equipment
desired.28
The Israelis often included, in their requests, ultra-sophisticated equipment,
knowing a negative answer was forthcoming. They believed, nevertheless, that it
was advisable to make the request in order to reserve a place in line for future
supply of such items.29
Israel emphasized that the supply of American weapons of recent technological vintage was not a one-way affair. The Israelis provided life-and-death
combat tests for the equipment received. Such a test was not only useful technically. The use of American equipment allowed the US to adapt this equipment to
Soviet battle tactics. Furthermore, Israel gave the Pentagon an intact Soviet
arsenal, including Mig-21, Sukhoi Su-7 planes, as well as advanced versions of
Soviet SAMs, tanks, anti-aircraft guns, anti-tank weapons and armored personnel carriers.30 The dependent Israel was quite eager to point out its contribution
to the American weapons program.
Even when a certain item was, in principle, approved for sale to Israel after
long strife, delivery was not immediate. In general, the Americans tried to
stretch the supply timetable. First, the US had a limited production capability.
This was the main factor in setting the delivery schedule of the M-60 tanks, for
example. Second, a stepped-up supply was a greater financial burden, since the
Americans ended up paying for most of the equipment bought by Israel. Third,
delaying and stretching deliveries gave the US additional leverage over Israel.
Deliveries could be slowed or halted at political convenience.
30
The aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War
On the other hand, the political timetable of an isolated state demanded a fast
buildup of its arsenal. The source of weapons could dry up. Further, its needs
were immediate, since a military confrontation could come soon. Israel indeed
feared a new war and therefore tried to expand its forces accordingly.31 Yet, the
Israelis were careful not to put forth this argument too forcefully. Such an argument could have strengthened the American perception of the Middle East as a
powder keg, exposing Israel to growing pressures.32 When a mutual consensus
existed, however, as to offensive Arab intentions, the US intensified its arms
deliveries to Israel. In September 1974, Rabin and Kissinger expected an escalation to occur on the Golan in spring 1975. As a result, the US agreed to changes
in shipment dates immediately to augment the IDF strength.33
Israel tried to place itself higher on the American priority list in order to
enjoy a faster supply of the approved equipment. Rabin succeeded, in January
1976, in extracting from Kissinger a promise to move Israel to the top of the
American priority list of weapons sales abroad.34 Yet, President Carter moved
Israel back down the list.35
The Israelis were used to American procrastination in approving military
items for sale and delays in their supply. Israel was aware of bureaucratic clogs
and American production difficulties. Moreover, the existence of a linkage
between arms and fluctuations in American–Israeli relations was a fact no one in
the Israeli government ignored. The basic policy of the Israeli arms procurement
program was, therefore, to buy as much as possible of items available immediately.36 This was due to the Israeli perceptions that war was likely and to the
desire to limit dependency on the Americans in the future. The Rabin government did not fear, however, a total American arms embargo. True, during the
1975 reassessment period, the possibility of a drastically reduced level did cross
Israeli minds, but even then the shipments of American equipment arrived on
time. Similarly, the suspension of aircraft deliveries to Israel in the summer of
1981 raised Israeli apprehensions as to America’s credibility as a weapons supplier and as an ally, but deliveries were soon renewed before fears of an American decision to drastically limit its military sales to Israel could develop.
Moreover, the Israelis realized that dependency upon American weapons was
inevitable and stocking did not alleviate the problem in the long run. Therefore,
the procurement plan also incorporated other considerations besides immediate
buildup.
The Israelis delayed purchasing certain items for financial reasons or other
motives. Israel was allowed to buy 50 F-15s, but it ordered only twenty-five of
the planes due to insufficient funds.37 Similarly, Israel delayed ordering the
seventy-five approved F-16s (Israel originally demanded 250) to replace the
aging F-4s. The Ministry of Defense hoped to use the potentially large Israeli
order as a lever to achieve co-production rights of this plane.38 The dispatch of
the airplanes was in any case not immediate and the Israelis did not foresee the
Americans linking future aircraft sales to Israel to fulfilling Arab requests for
advanced aircraft. This allowed Israel to feel it had some leeway in the procurement timetable of the planes.
The American arms transfer to Israel
31
The American arms transfer to Israel has been characterized by continuous
bargaining between the two parties over the quality of the weapons, their
number and their delivery schedule. Israel encountered growing American reluctance to meet its expanding needs. Nevertheless, the Israeli army grew faster in
the 1974 to 1977 period than ever before. By June 1977, Israel had replaced all
its war losses. Moreover, the tank force grew by 50 percent; artillery by 100
percent; armored personnel carriers by 800 percent; aircraft by 30 percent. The
qualitative changes in the Israeli arsenal were just as impressive.39 This weapon
procurement process continued after 1977, but at a slower rate.
Indigenous military production
One related aspect of the American arms transfer to Israel is the indigenous military production. Locally produced weapons could free up Israel from its critical
dependency on the US or alleviate the consequences of the sole donor–recipient
relationship. Indeed, the main impetus for the remarkable development of the
Israeli arms industry was political.40
Israel, like most countries, has been unable to develop and produce all the
modern weapons it requires. Only a few countries have the technical and economic resources to invest in the R&D needed to produce the latest generation of
arms. Even fewer have large enough needs to enjoy the economies of scale when
producing high-cost per unit weapons. Even if technologically competent, in
strictly economic terms it has been cheaper to import weapons, particularly
sophisticated and expensive systems.
Israel has been able and has produced two types of military items on a fairly
economic basis. The first is light arms and ammunition. The Israeli product is
competitive in this area because it is produced on a rather large scale for the IDF
and for export. The most famous are the Uzi sub-machine-gun, the Galil assault
rifle and the Soltam mortars. The second type consists of those weapons which
are skilled labor-intensive, such as electronics. Since the cost and wages of
skilled labor in Israel are considerably lower than in other industrial countries,
Israel’s products are competitive.41 Examples of such well-known products are
the Gabriel SSM and the Shafrir AAM.42
Since Israel’s existence may depend upon an adequate supply of weapons,
the political considerations have often been more relevant than the economic
ones. This is particularly true when projects for the production of high-cost per
unit weapons, such as tanks and airplanes, were adopted.
Shimon Peres, since the 1950s one of the most ardent advocates of the
defense-related industries, mentioned several advantages of local military production.43 These are:
1
2
An increase in the degree of independence for a temporary period in case of
a ‘reassessment’, or some other arms embargo.
An industrial infrastructure is needed to have a high level of recycling of
damaged equipment, which could relieve Israel of the need to buy new
32
3
4
The aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War
items. Moreover, in times of war it is necessary to make the repairs quickly
in order to overcome quantitative inferiority.
Making improvements in imported weapons.
The defense industry also has economic value: as an import substitute to
save foreign currency; for profits of its own and as a source of employment.
Peres’ convictions were representative of the long-held, commonly accepted
rationale for investing in a defense industry. The achievements of this industry
were considered by many as signposts in Israel’s path toward economic
independence, and the development of an arms production capability was part
and parcel of the Israeli notions of self-reliance. The quest for a large arms
industry has been part of the Israeli political ethos.
Following the 1973 War, the dream of weapon self-sufficiency faded away,
together with the aspiration for economic independence. The magnitude of the
Israeli dependence upon the US was too overwhelming to entertain any such
notions. This situation provided the critics of the Israeli defense industry, who
preferred allocations to other goals, the opportunity to question the scope of the
Israeli weapon program.44 This approach gained further strength when Rabin
became Prime Minister.
Rabin approached the subject in a strictly economic sense. He approved of
producing items only if their price and quality were competitive with alternative
products. He and circles in the IDF feared that they might find themselves in the
situation where the IDF would be forced to order the Israeli product in order to
justify its production in spite of its inferior quality. The IAF, for example, initially refused to equip itself with the Israeli Aircraft Industry (IAI)-made STOL
Arava. Yet, after several years, it ended up with a few Aravas in its inventory.
Rabin preferred to concentrate on adapting foreign weapons to the local arena,
or developing systems that were unavailable or inadequate in the Western arsenals (e.g., sea-to-sea missiles, SAM suppressing systems).45
Rabin, as a senior officer in the IDF, had already introduced the distinction
between preparedness – i.e., the alertness and the magnitude of the present order
of forces – and preparation – i.e., the process of augmenting future capabilities.
He recognized the tension between the two concepts.46 Then, and as Prime
Minister, Rabin emphasized preparedness. This inclination was strengthened in
the post-1973 War period, because a new war was feared. This short-range
perspective meant purchasing available equipment immediately instead of
diverting resources to local production with an uncertain delivery schedule.
Rabin primarily opposed high unit cost projects. Ironically, during his tenure as
Prime Minister, the Israeli-made Kfir was put on sale and the development of the
Israeli supertank – Merkava – was completed. Yet both projects started in the late
1960s, when Rabin was no longer chief of staff, was out of the country serving as
Israel’s ambassador in Washington, and had no influence over the fate of such
plans. Indeed, both enterprises ran into financial trouble and Israel had to turn to
the US for help. Israel asked Washington to allow her to use the money approved
for purchasing 170 M-60 tanks (at over a quarter of a million dollars a piece) to be
The American arms transfer to Israel
33
used to produce the Merkava.47 Israel also wanted to export the Kfir to enable the
IAI to benefit from the economies of scale. Yet, due to Israel’s political isolation,
Israeli items of high visibility, such as planes, did not appeal to many prospective
clients in spite of the enticing price. Even another ‘pariah’ state, Taiwan, refused
to buy the Kfir. When a buyer was finally found, American permission was needed
to market the Kfir abroad (due to its American-made engine). The sale of Kfirs to
Ecuador was, however, blocked by the Carter Administration.
The difficulties which beleaguered those two projects reinforced Rabin’s
reluctance to approve ambitious enterprises. He used his power to prevent, delay
or slow down the development of weapon systems he believed could be purchased on the American market at a better price and at an earlier time.48 For
example, he succeeded in preventing a decision on the development of the
Israeli combat plane for the 1980s – the Arieh – but not a $20 million allocation
to the IAI for an early planning of such an aircraft.49 Yet he failed to bring about
a decision to sign, immediately, the contract (without co-production rights) for
an order for the F-16s (the Americans finally offered a 5 percent co-production,
but it was not acceptable to Israel). The IAI expected the co-production to generate a sufficient turnover, as well as knowhow, to allow progress on the Arieh. In
addition to the Arieh, plans for a larger missile boat (also a high-cost per unit
system) were shelved.
Interestingly, the 1975 ‘reassessment’ did not make any significant change
in the Israeli plans for self-production.50 The French embargo in 1967 led to
the Kfir and the British refusal to sell the Chieftain tank in 1969 (in spite of the
Israeli contribution to its development) led to the Merkava. Possibly, the
‘reassessment’ period was too short to produce similar results. Moreover, both
endeavors proved to be extremely costly. Yet, the main reason was Rabin’s
serene attitude toward self-production. When the country was quite jubilant
about the Kfir, he reacted differently:
We should not have the illusion that in light of the huge quantities of
sophisticated Soviet arms flowing to the Arab countries, we can free ourselves in the future from an American massive weapons supply to the IDF.
We can be proud of the military industry’s achievements, but it is no less
important to keep the right perspective.51
Rabin believed that the development of the Israeli defense industry was only a
marginal addition to Israel’s security, which was dependent upon the US. Therefore, if the US objected to certain Israeli steps in the direction of a greater and a
more diverse weapons production, it simply was not worth a fight with the
Americans. For example, Rabin publicly declared his refusal to take up the Kfir
matter with President Carter in March 1977. He did not want a confrontation
with the President on a marginal issue at their first meeting. He preferred to deal
with the basic issues, such as peace in the Middle East, Israel’s security and
American financial aid to Israel.52 Strategic coordination was more important
than satisfying the defense industry interest in producing airplanes.
34
The aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War
Yet, the defense industry interest group has always been well represented
in the government. As a result, in the 1974 to 1976 period Israel invested
about $400 million in defense-related R&D.53 Obviously, not all projects met
Rabin’s criteria for self-production, but over-ambitious programs were not
adopted.
After 1977, when the Likud-led coalition headed by Prime Minister Begin
came to power, Rabin’s serene attitude toward local production was replaced by
the more traditional approach to this subject. For example, the Arieh project
(renamed Lavi) was approved in February 1980. The deterioration of the Israeli
economy and the growing pressure to cut the defense budget, however, prevented a dramatic growth in the defense industries during Begin’s tenure.
The continuous development of the Israeli defense complex, like the growth
of the IDF, has been contingent upon an American input. Interestingly, some of
the initial knowhow used to produce arms in the 1950s was of American origin.
At that time, this knowhow was transferred to Israel because the US preferred
not to sell Israel weapons and offered, instead, access to arms production
technology.54 In the 1970s, Israel again requested American aid for its military
industry. Peres, on his first trip to Washington as Defense Minister in June 1974,
asked the Americans to enable Israel to produce some of the items of the equipment ordered from the US.55 Israel wanted to divert American financial aid,
intended to be used in the American weapons market, to Israel. As mentioned,
Israel asked for funds to produce the Merkava and also for subcontracts for the
F-16. Israel also requested access to American weapons knowhow in order to
ease the economic burden of its security requirements.56 Israel also needed
American approval when exporting items containing American components.
Aware of the economic and political problems involved in continuing to
develop the defense industry, Israel sought to solve those problems by reaching
co-production agreements with American firms. This could have saved the
Israeli defense complex the R&D expenses in acquiring advanced technology.
Moreover, such an arrangement would have diminished the chances of an American veto on sales abroad. Israel expressed, for example, an interest in participating in the production of the Condor air-to-surface missile, a very expensive
weapon (over $200,000 per unit). Israel also hoped to attract an American firm
to co-produce the future Israeli airplane, the Lavi.57 When it came to producing
high-cost per unit weapons systems, co-production with the Americans, rather
than independent development, has been the main goal of the Israeli defense
industry. Israel was attracted to its economic benefits. The political advantages
in such ventures also appealed to the isolated country.
The Americans were reluctant to help Israel in further expanding its burgeoning defence industry. Supply of sophisticated knowhow and machinery was
restricted.58 For example, President Ford denied requests by Israel to obtain
subcontracts for the F-16. President Carter refused to grant permission to sell the
Kfirs to Ecuador, and it is believed that the Americans played a role in the
Austrian decision not to purchase the Israeli Kfirs. Washington refused to
allow any co-production in developing airplanes. The Americans also opposed
The American arms transfer to Israel
35
co-production in other areas of military equipment. For instance, the Pentagon
prevented American firms from developing sensitive electronic equipment
together with the Israeli Tadiran concern.59
The US preferred not to aid the Israeli defense industry in order not to lessen
its dependency upon American weapons. Yet, even if the Israeli defense establishment could have reached its goal of 40 percent domestic arms production,60
the other 60 percent for the IDF would still have kept Israel tied to Washington’s
apron strings. Moreover, the claim that the Israeli arms industry was stealing
American technology and was subsequently undermining potential American
markets was dubious.61 A comparison between the $456 million Israeli defense
exports in 1976 and the $12 billion US arms exports in the same year makes it
quite clear that attention on Israel’s export capability was out of all proportion to
reality.62 Actually, Israeli exports could have been of some benefit to the US.
They could have reduced the need for American aid and also have spurred on
the sale of American items, components in Israeli products. The American attitude to Israel in this area, as in others, was motivated primarily by a desire to
minimize or lower the profile of its ties with the isolated state.
Yet, Israel gradually managed to soften some of the initial American opposition. The Americans probably understood that an expanded local military industry still left Israel very much dependent upon the US. In addition, they realized
that the Israeli security requirements were indeed a heavy burden for its economy
and that the development of its defense industry had an economic rationale.
In June 1978, Israel managed to extract American approval to sell its Kfirs to
Taiwan (Taiwan denied any interest in the plane following the public American
announcement of its permission). Washington also bought some items in Israel
for its forces in Europe and for its Mediterranean Sixth Fleet as a means of partially offsetting the cost of Israeli military purchases from the US. The IAI,
which proved to be technically reliable and economically competitive, was also
given, over the years, some subcontracts for components in the F-15 and the
F-16. The IAI first manufactured components for the American planes for the
use of the IAF only, but later also for export.63 Nevertheless, US-signed agreements to buy military products in Israel were not fulfilled.64
As was the case in weapon procurement, Israel was not fully satisfied with
American cooperation. Over the years, however, a greater American tolerance
for the development of the Israeli defense industry can be detected.
Conclusion
In the post-October War period, Israel’s arms requirements grew considerably
and, correspondingly, its dependence upon the US increased. The Israeli weapons
procurement program is critical for its survival as a state. Since arms purchases
are of a political nature, Israel’s first goal has been strategic coordination with the
US. The Rabin government, as well as the Begin government, dealt first with the
political issues. Receiving weapons in the framework of a sole donor-recipient
relationship makes prior political understanding imperative.
36
The aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War
In spite of the occasional tensions in the relations between Jerusalem and
Washington, Israel succeeded in establishing, following the 1973 War, a pattern
of American support of great magnitude. The level of this support actually
allows Israel to have the freedom of action, militarily and diplomatically, to
conduct, for short periods of time, a policy in accordance with its vital interests
despite the fact that this could evoke vehement American opposition. In its
weapons procurement, as well as in its indigenous military production, Israel has
striven for independence in what Peres called ‘uniquely decisive situations’.65
Specifically, Israel wished to fight the next war without an American airlift or
American interference and hoped to develop a large enough army unequivocally
to overpower its Arab opponents. Furthermore, it wanted to be able to withstand
American pressures, including suspension of arms deliveries, for short periods
of time. Yet, continuous strains between Jerusalem and Washington may have a
cumulative impact and endanger the magnitude and the quality of the American
arms transfer to Israel.
Part II
The use of force
3
Israel’s small war
The military response to the Intifada
Until recently, most attention by students of the Arab–Israeli conflict was given
to its international dimension. Yet its protracted nature also focused attention on
the ethno-cultural characteristics of this conflict.1 Indeed, the Arab–Israeli
conflict also has an intercommunal dimension that gives it a compound quality –
that is, a structure composed of two bordering domains of violence, interstate
and communal.2 The communal strife, dominant before 1948, acquired more
prominence after 1967 when the Palestinian inhabitants of the territories on the
West Bank and in Gaza came under Israeli rule. A conflict of this nature usually
generates subconventional violence at the lower end of the spectrum of force.3
The Intifada, which erupted in December 1987, is one expression of the
greater weight of the communal dimension of the conflict. At that time riots in
several Palestinian refugee camps in the Gaza Strip developed into a popular
uprising. The scope, intensity and duration of the evolving events surprised
everybody, including the Palestinians themselves. The Intifada has been characterized by many non-violent methods of struggle such as commercial shutdowns, economic boycotts, labor strikes, demonstrative funerals, hoisting
Palestinian flags, resignation of policemen and tax collectors, and the development of self-reliant educational, economic and political institutions. Such activities were accompanied by low levels of violence, such as throwing stones and
petrol bombs, as well as internal terror, in which many suspected of cooperation
with Israel were murdered. Only about 5 percent of Palestinian activity included
the use of firearms.
The Intifada is a rather unusual mixture of non-violent civil disobedience
with subconventional use of force. In essence, it is neither a guerrilla war nor a
terror campaign. Despite its experience with low-intensity operations, Israel has
had to develop a different response and to wage what the British have termed ‘a
small war’.4 Despite the fact that the Intifada is to a large extent sui generis, its
analysis has wider implications for intercommunal and low-intensity conflict.
Such types of encounters seem to be on the increase in the post-bipolar era.
After three and a half years of the Intifada there is much less violence against
Israeli targets in the territories and a drastic reduction in the participation of the
Palestinian masses in such acts of violence. However, it is too early to conclude
that the Intifada is over. The balance sheet for the period between December
40
The use of force
1989 and April 1991 shows that 756 Palestinians were killed by Israeli security
forces, while 375 additional Palestinian fatalities were the result of internal
Palestinian terror. On the Israeli side only fifty-four people were killed (twenty
soldiers and thirty-four civilians). The price tag (direct costs) for fighting the
Intifada in the first three years is approximately $500 million.
The use of force in the Arab–Israeli conflict
The role of the defense minister has been cardinal in devising the Israeli use of
force toward its Arab neighbors and in particular the policy in the territories
taken in the 1967 War. Yitzhak Rabin, the Defense Minister in the National
Unity governments (1984–90), had served in the past as chief of staff in the
Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) and prime minister, and was generally accepted as
an authority on security matters. The political constellation of the late 1980s
allowed him to be the final arbiter in affairs pertaining to the IDF, its use in the
territories and outside it, with little interference from other cabinet members. His
perceptions of the situation and his prescriptions constituted the most influential
input in forming the Israeli response to the Intifada.
Since June 1990, Moshe Arens of the Likud has returned to the post of
defense minister he held in the period between 1983 and 1984. Despite the
rhetoric of some of his Likud colleagues, his outlook on the use of force in the
Arab–Israeli conflict was similar to Rabin’s. Therefore, the previous policies
were basically continued, though some changes were introduced.
Rabin, like other Israeli politicians at the Center and Right of the political
map, regarded Israel as being engaged in a protracted conflict over its very existence in the Middle East. The transition toward a more peaceful relationship with
the Arabs was possible only through a lengthy transitional period. Therefore,
Israeli military might was a necessary precondition for survival in a hostile
environment. Yet Rabin, typical of middle-of-the-road and leftist Israeli politicians, did not believe that the Arab–Israeli conflict could be solved by military
means alone. He often criticized the Likud for its tendency to rely on the use of
force to determine the outcome of the Arab–Israeli conflict.5
Although not sufficient to put an end to the conflict, military superiority was
regarded as a necessary condition for achieving this goal. It was seen as instrumental in diverting the resolution of conflict from the battlefield to the negotiating table under optimal conditions for maximizing Israeli gains in the process.
The IDF were seen as instrumental in moderating Arab political expectations in
the conflict. Military force was the means for a ‘diplomacy of violence’.6 Furthermore, occasional use of force was regarded as useful in signaling determination and in enhancing Israeli deterrence.
In contrast to several other Likud leaders, Arens’ perspective was not that different from Rabin’s. In 1984, Arens had already stressed the limits on Israel’s use
of force: ‘We are not capable of bringing our enemies to unconditional surrender,
nor do we aspire to do so.’7 This similarity in the attitude toward the use of force
is the main reason for the continuity in the Israeli approach to the Intifada.
Israel’s small war
41
The crystallization of the Israeli response
The Intifada constituted a strategic as well as tactical surprise for Israel. It took
several months to digest the significance of the new challenge and to develop the
policy that began to be implemented in spring 1988. Rabin admitted that the
policy was reached only after a process of trial and error, which was quite
typical of Israeli national security decision making.8 Three distinct chronological
stages can be identified in the process: the first from the beginning of the
Intifada until early January 1988; the second lasting for two months until early
March 1988; and the third from that date until a new Likud government was
installed in June 1990, at which time a new, fourth stage began.
Stage one
During the first weeks of the disturbances, Israel, as well as others in the region
and outside it, estimated that the customary measures would again suffice to
restore the status quo ante. It was regarded as a typical ‘current security’ problem
(not one that challenged Israel’s very existence or territorial integrity), for which
standard operational procedures existed. The guidelines for maintaining law and
order, last formulated in 1976, emphasized minimizing contact with the population, along with a clear policy of ‘carrots and sticks’. This meant primarily economic benefits for ‘well-behaved’ towns and villages and punishment for those
creating problems. In order to make this policy clear and to understand the needs
of the local population, a continuous dialogue with the local leadership was recommended. Law and order were to be maintained by Border Police units, while
the IDF were assigned a backup role. In the event of riots, there was a clear preference by the security forces to shy away from close contact with the rioters and,
therefore, to impose curfews.9 This policy was implemented at the beginning of
the Intifada. Yet, this time, as a result of a process of erosion in Israeli deterrence
that had started a few years earlier,10 enforcing curfews required more troops. The
absence of sufficient forces, their lack of suitable riot-control equipment and
training, coupled with greater Palestinian willingness to challenge the military,
frustrated IDF efforts to restore tranquility.
Only toward the end of December 1987, after returning from a visit to the
United States, did Rabin realize the seriousness of the problem. He then implemented the contingency plans, to be carried out in a manner he named ‘wise
firmness’. According to the previously established guidelines, this policy
included massive military presence and the arrest of the inciters.11 The military
was still under orders to minimize contact with rioters and to refrain from firing
live ammunition unless directly threatened. Yet there was not much else soldiers could do to defend themselves. Neither reserve nor regular units underwent any riot-control training before being sent to the territories. At the
beginning of the Intifada, the IDF even lacked enough gas canisters and rubber
bullets; these had to be airlifted to supply the growing need. Moreover, rubber
bullets, the IDF discovered, were quite useless beyond a range of 15 m. In this
42
The use of force
initial stage, Chief of Staff Dan Shomron, in a letter to his soldiers in the
territories, called restraint ‘a true expression of courage’ and pointed out that
the policing duties imposed on the IDF required certain unspecified adaptations.12 In the meantime, a growing presence of ill-prepared and ill-equipped
troops led to a growing number of casualties. This and the increased number of
arrests did not deter the Palestinians.
Stage two
The riots spread, and by early January 1988 the Intifada and its reverberations in
the international media had become a serious diplomatic problem for Israel. Furthermore, it was realized that the disturbances had far-reaching political goals.
A review of leaflets published by various Palestinian groups since the beginning
of the Intifada indicated that all had two common goals: first, the weakening of
Israeli rule by civil disobedience in order to bring about its withdrawal, and
second, the establishment of a Palestinian state.13 Rabin, who was cognizant of
those objectives, pointed out to his party activists in March:
This is a violent civilian activity with a clear political goal, which is no different from that of the Arab states in their wars against us. The goal is not to
improve economic conditions or municipal elections. It is to push us out of
the West Bank and Gaza Strip, and I am not sure whether it is only these
territories from which the Palestinians want to push us.14
The Intifada triggered for Rabin and others the ‘evoked set’ of the politicide
campaign against the very existence of the Jewish state.15 The second stage was
characterized by an increase in the Israeli threat perception.
It was then decided ‘to strike the violent demonstrations off the agenda’.16
The second goal, as enunciated by Rabin, was to guarantee freedom of travel in
all areas, while the third was to guarantee that those Arabs who wanted to leave
to work in Israel could do so. The fourth goal was to break the commercial
strikes.17 This was to be accomplished by force. An even greater number of
troops, including reserve units, were sent to the territories. In addition, IDF
deployment was changed and confrontation tactics adopted. IDF troops were
ordered to charge demonstrators. Since methods that might lead to a bloodbath
were rejected and there was clear apprehension about casualties, the regulations
governing when to fire were not changed. Yet, as Rabin was impressed with the
ability of the Border Police to restore order by using sticks, the troops were
equipped with batons, and a policy of beatings was initiated. It was intended to
restore through measured force some of the deterrence lost.18 This is what Rabin
had in mind when he made his famous observation, ‘Nobody dies of a beating.’
But he added on a later occasion, ‘Each Palestinian rioter will carry a scar.’19
Physical force was to be used to disperse demonstrations, and the pain inflicted
in quelling a riot would prevent additional such events. It was also believed that
the physical contact was useful in terms of troop morale. Maj. Gen. Amram
Israel’s small war
43
Mitzna, who was serving as head of Central Command, said one month after the
beatings started, ‘We have reached a situation – which I see as advantageous –
in which the clash has become a physical one. The soldier is beginning to
develop self-confidence, and the other side is being deterred.’20 In this second
stage, Israeli authorities began mass arrests, detaining by early March over 2,500
rioters, inciters and suspected Palestinian activists. Some were deported.21
Although a reduction in casualties was achieved, the new policy failed to
reach its main goal of ending the mass demonstrations. Furthermore, Rabin
learned that beaten Palestinians were even hotter news than dead ones: ‘I see
when Arabs are the victims of our gunfire the local and international media are
much less concerned than when Arabs are beaten up. In my eyes this is a world
with twisted concepts.’22 Nonetheless, the political implications of the international attention, coupled with the soldiers’ distress at beating civilians, led in
March 1988 to a reassessment and to the adoption of a new policy, which
remains in effect.
Stage three
The prelude to the third stage was the realization that Israel was facing a
surprising new form of Arab struggle. At the beginning of March 1988, Rabin
admitted that the method adopted by the Palestinians was difficult to cope with.
According to Rabin, the Intifada had to be distinguished from conventional war
and the terrorist campaign of the Palestinian organizations. It was a sui generis
form of warfare, which required a response quite different from that for which
the IDF were trained in the conventional and terrorist arenas.23 On a later occasion, he pointed out that the popular uprising, which utilized almost no firearms,
needed no logistic system, as the Palestinians could easily supply themselves
with stones, knives or petrol bombs. The motivation to challenge the Israeli military presence was widespread, and the activities engaged in by Palestinians
needed little coordination from a headquarters or a communications network.24
The decentralized use of low-level violence, primarily stone throwing and roadblocks, as well as civil disobedience, posed quite a challenge to the IDF.
Because of the Israeli responsibility to the civilian population in its role as the
occupying power, there were legal and political limitations on what the IDF
could do. Such limitations were absent in a war with the Arab armies or in
Israel’s campaign against terrorists. Israeli superiority in firepower, in tanks and
in airplanes, was simply irrelevant in this encounter.25
In March 1988, Rabin began to believe that ‘just by using force within the
framework of what is allowed, through detentions as permitted by law, we will
be unable to stop the violence’.26 He then rejected the option of mobilizing
reserve soldiers on a much wider scale and for longer terms to police the territories because ‘it will hurt our economy’. Yet he raised the possibility of ‘using
civilian means, such as harsh economic measures and limitations on freedom of
movement’. The legal constraints on Israel’s freedom of action in the territories,
which the defense minister deplored more than once, prevented more radical
44
The use of force
measures such as the use of deportation as a regular punishment or relaxing
restrictions on opening fire on civilians. In other words, Rabin began to think in
terms of an integrated policy of civilian and military means. Furthermore, Rabin
related his outlook on the use of force in the Arab–Israeli conflict to the particular situation Israel faced in the territories. The Intifada was regarded as another
facet of the protracted Arab struggle against Israel. As a result of such a perception, military force was no longer sufficient to solve the problem. The process
would be a lengthy one:
I believe that the problem cannot be resolved in one go. What will bring the
violence to an end is a cumulative process of physical and economic fatigue
and the disruption of the frameworks of daily life. However, the only solution to the underlying causes of the violence is a political one.27
Rabin never entertained the ideas aired in rightist circles that there was a purely
military solution that would restore the status quo ante. The operative goal he
had in mind was a reasonable level of tranquility in the territories and the continued operation of the Civil Administration as a symbol of Israel’s rule in the
territories. His political goal was more ambitious – to force the Arabs in the
territories to forgo their aspiration for a separate Palestinian state.
In the third stage of the Israeli response to the Intifada, the attempt to
achieve a decisive result in a single series of military engagements within a
limited time span was abandoned. The IDF stopped seeking contact with the
demonstrators and refrained from forcing store-owners to open their businesses.
The third stage is characterized by a strategy of attrition. Such a form of
warfare stresses the cumulative effect to be obtained during the course of a prolonged sequence of intermittent actions, none of which alone need be regarded
as decisive in the attainment of the political objectives.28 Such a strategy has
rarely been adopted by Israel. In most of its military encounters it preferred
short wars and capitalized on the IDF predilection for quick and decisive
action. This is what was tried unsuccessfully in the second stage. In contrast, in
the third stage Rabin advocated a patient three-part approach of grinding down
the Intifada; limited use of military force to prevent violence, judicial means
such as incarceration, administrative arrest and selective deportation; and
administrative and economic pressures to clarify that a carrot-and-stick policy
is being implemented and, concomitantly, to increase the dependence of the
population on the Israeli authorities.29 In short, the IDF increased their presence
tenfold, introduced new types of ammunition, changed the regulations governing when to open fire, and deployed commando and crack infantry brigades.
Initially, close to 10,000 Palestinians were placed under arrest (this number
grew later on); and harsh economic and administrative pressure was applied to
the general population. The military aspects of this integrated policy are
reviewed below.
Notwithstanding the harsh aspects of its new approach, Israel was not interested in pushing the population to despair. Rabin described the dilemma:
Israel’s small war
45
We have to strike a balance between actions that could bring on terrible
economic distress and a situation in which they have nothing to lose, and
measures which bind them to the Israeli administration and prevent civil
disobedience.30
The third stage constituted the beginning of Israel’s small war, which is characterized by extensive political goals, a strategy of attrition and a rather limited use
of force. The attritional approach, characteristic of small wars, scored several
successes. By mid-1988, mass demonstrations had practically ended, and there
was only minor interference on most travel routes. The attempt to organize a
‘popular army’ in the villages that declared ‘independence’ during summer 1988
also failed.31 The hunt for Intifada activists, who were often armed, ended on
many occasions in their elimination or capture. The IDF was much better suited
to this type of assignment than to quelling mass demonstrations. Such encounters were obviously less problematic for Israeli public opinion.
Furthermore, Israel succeeded in preventing the collapse of its rule, and the
local population had little choice but to use the services offered by the Civil
Administration. Yet the population found itself virtually under two regimes – the
Israeli regime and that of the popular committees – with no ability to disengage
itself from either of them. The civil disobedience in the territories is not complete. Its goal is not to create chaos but to demonstrate Israel’s inability to rule
exclusively and to establish the infrastructure for a Palestinian state. As a result,
a system of dual authority emerged in the territories.32 Actually, a Palestinian
structure of authority preceded the Intifada and had not been eradicated. In
Israeli parlance, ‘the hard core’ continued its violent resistance. It enforced the
commercial boycotts, general strikes and work stoppages, and increasingly
engaged in internal terror. Furthermore, the throwing of stones at Israeli soldiers
and cars – the Intifada’s symbol – has continued. Indeed, Rabin observed that
‘the blood of the Intifada is the stones’.33 By the end of the second year of the
Intifada, 80 percent of all acts of violence were in stone-throwing incidents. (In
60 percent of the cases children were involved.) Petrol bombs and road-blocks
were involved in 15 percent of all violent acts, while, as noted, only 5 percent of
violent acts involved firearms.34 This pattern has continued, with small fluctuations, up until the present.
Rabin stressed repeatedly that the Palestinian violence would be met with
Israeli countermeasures and had no chance of bringing any political results.
Gradually, Israel reconciled itself to a lengthy struggle. One of the assumptions
of the IDF multi-year work plan, presented to the government in September
1989, was that the Intifada would continue for another five years.35 At the end of
1989, after two years of Intifada, Rabin even described it as a ‘new war of attrition’, which could last for another two years.36 In his opinion, ‘Israeli society has
adjusted itself to this.’37 Rabin acknowledged that the army had not been able to
bring the uprising under control, but he likened this failure to the way the IDF
had failed to uproot terror from Lebanon through military operations.38 In his
opinion, it was impossible to ensure a situation in the territories in which there
46
The use of force
would not be even one stone thrown. Therefore, the army’s assignment was ‘to
bring tranquility and to reduce violence to a bearable level’.39 Furthermore, he
pointed out that dealing with the Intifada consumed only 4 percent of the
defense budget, in contrast to the 8 percent allocated to patrolling the borders.40
Rabin had come to see the Intifada as a manageable ‘current security’ problem.
It was pointed out that an important element in low-intensity conflict strategy is
the development of tolerance for ambiguous and indeterminate conflict.41 Israeli
society has been successful in routinizing conflict.42
Yet, in contrast to some Likud members in the National Unity government,
Rabin recognized that his policy, which emphasized Israeli determination not to
give in to the Palestinian use of force, had to be complemented by political
measures. The search for a political avenue to satisfy some of the Palestinian
aspirations was an imperative for Rabin. Despite his emphasis on a power
contest, he was committed to seeking political proposals for a resolution to the
dispute: ‘We need a military and political policy that stands on two feet. Any
policy that stands on just one foot will never lead to a solution.’43
After King Hussein of Jordan announced his disengagement from the territories on 31 July 1988, Rabin and his Labour Party remained without a partner for
a peace process. Then, before the November 1988 elections, Rabin agreed to a
change in his party’s platform, allowing negotiations with an independent Palestinian delegation for an interim agreement. This change was the result not only
of Jordan’s moves but also of Rabin’s realization that the Palestinians in
the territories could be a partner. Already in January 1988, he observed, ‘The
special feature about what is happening here is that for the first time it is
the residents of the territories that are leading the Palestinian struggle.’44 Prior to
the Israeli elections, Rabin and Shimon Peres suggested an election plan in the
territories. Due to Rabin’s efforts, this plan was incorporated into the National
Unity government peace initiative of May 1989. Indeed, the Likud did not
attempt to change the policy instituted by Rabin even after the Likud established
a right-wing government in June 1990.
Stage four
As noted, the change in the Ministry of Defense with the establishment of a
Likud-led government left most things as they were. In his first days in office,
Arens stated that the IDF’s job was to reduce the level of violence and to secure
the safety of the civilian population in order to facilitate a political dialogue
between Israel and the Palestinians.45 Yet he was more sensitive than his predecessor to Jewish demands for better security on the roads. Therefore, a minor
redeployment took place to increase the IDF presence on the major routes of
travel.46 Since the IDF did not increase the total number of troops in the territories, fewer soldiers were available for policing areas further away from the main
roads. This development and Arens’ order to minimize contact with the local
population, as well as a stricter enforcement of the regulations governing when
to open fire, all led to reduced friction and fewer Palestinian fatalities, and
Israel’s small war
47
furthered the process, begun earlier, of lowering the level of Palestinian violence
against Israeli targets. Despite his success in bringing more tranquility to the
territories, for which he was praised even by the Israeli Left, Arens had no illusion that the Intifada could be quickly eradicated.47 Like Rabin, he also seemed
to indicate that Israel had to learn to live with this situation.
The adaptation of the IDF
The adaptation of the IDF to the new form of warfare was a slow and gradual
process. This was partly a result of the initial perception that the Intifada
would fade away. In addition, organizational dynamics led the IDF, like most
other armies, to prefer preparing for a conventional war.48 Resistance to specializing in small wars is widespread in many armies.49 As a matter of fact,
‘the highly socio-politically sensitive character of low-intensity conflict and
force employment require a dimension that is hardly touched in standard
military training.’50 Similarly, the IDF were not trained for or experienced in
dealing with a popular uprising and had little appetite for such operations. Nonetheless, the IDF made efforts to adapt to the new situation in
several areas.
Manpower
Increased military presence
In the second stage the IDF had already relearned the lesson that riot control
required greater numbers of personnel. Gradually, the IDF increased the number
of troops deployed regularly in the territories from approximately 1,000 to
between 10,000 and 12,000. On sensitive dates, when mass demonstrations were
expected, additional soldiers were sent into the territories. Rabin pointed out a
fact well known in the counter-insurgency literature – namely that the use of live
ammunition was inversely related to the number of troops present.51 Massive
presence had a deterrent effect.
Increased number of permanently stationed troops
Before the Intifada, the IDF had rejected the establishment of special units
assigned to occupation duties. Only Border Police companies served for long
periods of time beyond the Green Line (the pre-1967 border). It has been
observed that an ongoing presence is very advantageous in counter-insurgency
activities because familiarity with the terrain and with the people is acquired.
A unit that can stay in an area for a long time is worth several times as many
men who are constantly on the move from one place to another.52 Indeed, the
IDF increased the quotas of draftees sent to serve in the Border Police, and the
number of such units deployed in the territories was gradually doubled. Due to
their police training, those units were more effective in riot control, and as a
48
The use of force
result there were fewer casualties on the Palestinian side. In addition, almost ten
companies belonging to armored, engineering and artillery units of the regular
army were stationed for eight months in the territories, while they spent the rest
of the year with their organic units.53 The greater use of regulars rather than
reservists also allowed the regular units to stay longer in one area.
Increased proportion of regulars
In the first year of the Intifada, the brunt of the struggle was carried by
reservists. This changed for several reasons. First, the use of reservists is
expensive. In times of budgetary cuts this factor became more influential in
operational considerations. Second, the IDF, as part of a long-standing policy,
wanted to ease the burden on reservists, which was increased in the first year of
the Intifada to up to sixty days of reserve duty a year. It was disclosed that in
1990 and 1991 reserve duty would be reduced to forty-four days. Third, service
in the territories interfered more with reservist training programs than with
those of the regular army. Fourth, the older reservists were less agile in the
pursuit of fleeing demonstrators or stone throwers than were the young soldiers
in the regular army. Fifth, the regulars would be deployed for longer periods of
time than the reservists. Finally, it appears that the IDF preferred to use regulars, who were politically more docile. They had a less-developed political consciousness and were more constrained in their political activities than were
reservists.
The growing numbers of draftees facilitated the transition to the use of more
regulars. The increase in the number of troops regularly stationed in the territories for a long period of time also reduced the need for reservists. This effort
continued when it was decided at the beginning of 1990 to send regulars stationed in Israel to the territories for guard duty, for limited periods of time,
instead of calling up reservists.54
An upgrading of the command level
In contrast to the pre-Intifada period, the IDF made efforts to send into the
territories the more promising commanding officers who had once shied away
from such service. The number of posts to be filled by senior officers was
increased following the changes in IDF deployment in the Israeli-ruled territories. The chief of staff ordered first-class field officers to be posted in the headquarters in the territories.55 Gradually, fighting the Intifada was perceived as a
respectable battle assignment and not an unimportant policing duty. An additional measure to upgrade the command level in the territories was the recruitment of senior reserve officers to regular service. Many were approached
personally and asked to sign a long-term contract with the army.56 The change in
the attitude of the IDF toward the struggle against the Intifada is very important
because this then extends down through the ranks. The realization that the campaign against the Intifada will be part of the IDF assignment for a long time to
Israel’s small war
49
come and that it is important has an impact on the reserves, and it also influences
the public at large.
Intelligence
The surprise outbreak of the Intifada led to an intelligence reorganization. The
General Security Services (GSS) were given the responsibility for all types of
intelligence in the territories, including research and general evaluation of the
Palestinians there. The IDF Intelligence Branch was also assigned certain new
duties concerning the territories. Mechanisms for better coordination between
the two services were established. IDF units in the territories were assigned GSS
liaison officers. This improved coordination since mid-1989 enabled the IDF to
display more initiative in contrast to the reactive behavioral characteristics of the
beginning of the Intifada. This better flow of intelligence facilitated the transition from imposing collective punishment to treating selected targets. Scouting
units were equipped with sophisticated optical equipment for seeing and
photographing Intifada participants from great distances.57 The army also
used gliders, remote-piloted vehicles and helicopters for supplying real-time
intelligence.
Training
Eventually the IDF realized that the Intifada was a very specific form of warfare.
Rabin admitted that the IDF had not been ready for such an encounter and
accepted responsibility for this failure.58 As noted, armies have inhibitions in
preparing for small wars. The IDF have learned to cope, however. The organizational knowledge accumulated has been slowly digested and propagated.
For example, only recently the IDF have learned that there is a need to standardize reporting of events.59 The IDF issued many publications to educate
their personnel. Doctrine on various tactical aspects has been developed. As in
other areas of activity, a rich literature of instruction dealing with many operational aspects of combating the Intifada has been made available to IDF units.60
At the Command and Staff College, however, this subject is hardly treated as
yet. However, riot control has been included as one of the subjects to be learned
by the IDF’s new draftees. Currently, units destined to serve in the territories
undergo several days of training at a training site suited for this purpose. This
training is, however, of much shorter duration than the process of readying a
British unit to serve in Ulster, for example.61 In general, the army has a much
better knowledge of how to deal with hostile civilians. It is not clear to
what extent the IDF sensitize officers to the operational value of non-violent
ways in a small war. Commanders need to develop negotiating skills to forestall or terminate disturbances. There is little evidence that the IDF use their
psychological-warfare specialists. It is quite clear that more Arab speakers at
the officer and non-commissioned officer level could be valuable in preventing
misunderstandings.
50
The use of force
Operations
Deployment
The massive presence of the IDF in the territories allowed for a more widespread deployment. Soldiers were positioned in hundreds of sites to secure travel
routes and deter stone throwing and petrol bombs. The number of patrols, by
foot or vehicle, was increased. In general, the IDF preferred to operate in larger
formations, particularly in populated areas, in order to deter disturbances. Problematic villages were subjected to large-scale raids.
The use of special units
The IDF decided to use some of their commando units in the territories for
special assignments. The foreign press mentioned the names of two such units:
Duvdvan and Shimshon. Such units, usually in disguise, abduct or kill leading
members of the ‘hard core’ or the ‘shock committees’. In addition, sniper units
were deployed to eliminate the leading elements (the masked activists). The
latitude such units have, particularly in the area of firing live ammunition, seems
to be much wider than that given to the rest of the army. The IDF also employed
crack infantry units in the territories. The villages that declared ‘independence’
were often targets of those units. Sometimes such units were used in conjunction
with helicopter-borne operations. A greater use of helicopters was needed to
achieve flexible and rapid deployment. Such crack units are obviously better
suited to the type of warfare the Intifada dictates. Indeed, Intifada gangs such as
the Black Panther and the Red Eagle in Nablus were effectively eliminated. In
other, less prestigious units, officers for special operations were signed up in
order to raise the quality of counter-insurgency activities.
Changes in regulations governing opening fire
From the beginning of the Intifada there were stringent restrictions on the use of
live ammunition against civilians. The rubber bullets were, as noted, inadequate,
which left the IDF with no long-range weapon against the Palestinians. The introduction of plastic bullets at the end of July 1988 changed that. This bullet, not
lethal at a range of over 70 m, gave IDF soldiers a tactical advantage over stone
throwers and demonstration inciters. Initially, only officers and specially trained
soldiers were allowed to shoot this type of ammunition, at legs below the knee and
at a range of over 70 m. In January 1989, non-commissioned officers were also
allowed to use plastic bullets, and the mandate was enlarged to include fleeing
demonstrators. Lax enforcement of the regulations initially resulted in an increase
in casualties, but also in deterrence. In summer 1988, the IDF again allowed (after
a few months, ban) the use of live ammunition against persons throwing petrol
bombs. In September 1989, after a testing period in Gaza, the license to use live
ammunition was widened against unarmed masked Palestinians who refused to
Israel’s small war
51
stop for arrest. By the end of the following year (1990), IDF snipers were allowed
to fire at stone throwers. At the beginning of 1990, a new rubber bullet with
greater range and impact was introduced. Not defined as lethal ammunition, its use
is more widespread and less discriminate, which also increases the casualties.62 All
these measures did not lead to a rise in the number of casualties, due to an increasingly strict enforcement of the firing regulations.
Equipment
The provision of equipment for the anti-Intifada campaign was rather slow and
was hindered by financial constraints. Eventually, the troops were equipped with
helmets to protect them from stones. Protective gear against stones and petrol
bombs was installed in the army’s vehicles. As noted, plastic and improved
rubber bullets were introduced. Higher quality batons and gas canisters were
also added to the IDF arsenal. Similarly, many soldiers were issued with sharpshooter equipment to provide for a more discriminate firepower. The army also
experimented with gravel throwers and gas rockets as non-lethal means to disperse demonstrations. The number of jeeps was gradually increased to provide
greater mobility. The use of dogs in dispersing demonstrations was considered
but rejected. Similarly, the idea of using arrows with anesthetics in order to
capture demonstrators was discarded.
Is victory within reach?
The IDF gradually developed a small war strategy and adjusted itself in several
ways to meet the new challenge. But armies fight to win wars. Is the Intifada a
war that can be won? The answer to this question depends on the military and
political objectives set by the political leadership and on the goals of the Palestinians. The extent to which the goals of the two sides are a zero-sum game is
pertinent to what may be termed an Israeli victory. Finally, the price for achieving the goals must be considered.
The IDF was initially given the task of restoring the status quo ante. This it
was unable to do. Later, reducing violence to a bearable level became the goal.
It is not clear what ‘bearable’ means. Israeli society, which has succeeded in
routinizing conflict, seems to have adjusted to a certain level of violence in the
territories. We should not forget, however, that this adjustment was not only the
achievement of Israel’s small war. The Intifada also seems to be fading away
from the Israeli and international consciousness due to the diversion of international attention to other areas, unfortunately for the Palestinians. This could
change, of course. In the meantime, the Israeli level of indifference is not conducive to the achievement of Palestinian goals.
Israel has also attempted to forestall the challenge to its governing role. As
noted earlier, it was only partially successful, as a parallel structure of authority
was in operation. As a matter of fact, Israel attempted primarily to isolate the
‘hard nucleus’ that was engaging in terror and was enforcing the Intifada rules.
52
The use of force
The elimination of the whole Palestinian structure of authority was really not an
Israeli goal. Israeli authorities have been ambivalent toward the emergence of a
Palestinian leadership in the territories and toward the political institutionalization of the Palestinian national movement, which was accelerated by the
Intifada. On one hand, this process of building a national authority structure
made the Palestinians less docile, leading some of the Palestinian leadership to
Israeli jails. On the other hand, it created an alternative Palestinian partner to the
unacceptable PLO for a dialogue with Israel. As noted, Rabin was pleased to
observe that since 1987, for the first time, local Palestinians led the struggle. He
and others hoped that they could be partners to an agreement, particularly after
Jordan’s King Hussein disengaged from the West Bank.
A similar Israeli ambivalence may be found with regard to the long-term
policy toward the territories, which was confusing to their inhabitants. The lack
of clarity was primarily due to the stalemate in Israeli politics. Labour was
willing to relinquish part of the territories and even the Likud leaders spoke
about taking the IDF out of the cities in an autonomy arrangement. An inevitable
result was growing Palestinian unrest. It is impossible to secure the cooperation
of the population in an insurgency if the government states its intention to withdraw.63 Finally, in the competition to coerce the population into cooperation, the
IDF has little chance to win vis-à-vis the brutality of the internal terror conducted by the Intifada leaders.
Israeli withdrawal from the territories, one goal of the Intifada, is still far
from imminent. True, polls show a slightly greater inclination on the part of
Israelis to relinguish some of the territories. Yet a Palestinian state, another
Intifada goal, is still rejected by most of the Israeli political elite and public.
Palestinian behavior during the uprising did not project an image of them as
good neighbors. The support for Iraq of the Palestinian masses and their leadership during the 1990 to 1991 Gulf crisis and the disheartening effects of the fact
that Palestinians were cheering as Scud missiles landed in Israeli neighborhoods
further estranged them even from Israelis who had been sympathetic to their
cause. The previously noted adjustment of Israeli society to the new state of
affairs does not bring the Palestinians much closer to their goals.
Possibly, the suffering on both sides will have educational value in lowering
expectations and redefining the meaning of victory. Protracted conflicts in other
parts of the world seem to indicate, however, that collectives are not fast learners and that collective aspirations legitimize the investment of heavy societal
costs.
The cost to Israel in human and material losses is also not exorbitant. It parallels the effort invested in combating terror, though the psychological price is
higher. An indirect price is interference with preparations for the next conventional war. The troops are chasing children in the territories instead of training,
and funds are diverted from research and development and weapons procurement. Yet an army has to prepare for the most likely encounter. Before and
particularly after the Gulf War, the main threats to Israel appear to lie in the subconventional and non-conventional areas in the spectrum of violence. The
Israel’s small war
53
Intifada and missile-launched chemical weapons are more of a problem in the
near future than are the conventional armies of Israel’s Arab rivals. It is also not
clear that possible failures in a future conventional war are more potentially
damaging to Israel than a setback in the struggle against the Intifada. Taking into
consideration that the Intifada could influence the drawing of Israel’s future
eastern border, this confrontation probably constitutes the most critical front.
Low-intensity conflict could well be the decisive form of warfare in the near
future.
The Israeli preoccupation with the Intifada has undoubtedly affected its preparedness for the next conventional war. Yet the degree of erosion in warwaging capability is probably marginal for the time being. A main component in
Israel’s deterrent capability, its air force, was unaffected by the Intifada. Internal
political divisions over the suppression of the Palestinian uprising will also have
little impact in the event that Israel is attacked by an Arab state. The growing
limitations on the political elite’s freedom to use military force due to the need
for a broad consensus have little relevance for deterring an Arab-initiated war.
However, a failure to stand up to the Intifada can signal to its Arab rivals an
Israeli loss of nerve.
From the Arab states’ reactions to the fortunes of the Palestinians in the past
decade, whether in Lebanon or in the Israeli-ruled territories, there is little evidence for believing that Israel’s small war in the territories could trigger an escalation. The ongoing Intifada seems to have little effect on the Arab states’
relations with Israel. Yet an escalation in the Palestinian level of violence and a
transition to a successful form of country or urban guerrilla warfare could, under
certain international circumstances, precipitate greater readiness on the part of
Arab actors to become involved in a war with Israel. Indeed, the IDF is preparing itself for a transition to the greater use of firearms by the Palestinians and an
escalation in the Intifada.64
Finally, in case of war – not necessarily in connection with the Intifada – it is
argued that the occupation forces needed to police the territories would be
missing on the front. In 1989 the chief of staff disputed such a scenario:
During war some of the limits which we imposed on ourselves in the use of
force will be lifted. Then we will be under a real existential threat and we
will be able with a much lesser force to guarantee what we need for the
conduct of war . . . I cannot enter into details.65
The Palestinians would no doubt understand that the rules of the game in the
event of war are different. The question is to what extent they will be willing to
pay the price, heavy as it may be. Moreover, in case war breaks out in the course
of an Israeli campaign to vanquish stepped-up guerrilla warfare, not all troops
engaged in such a campaign could be diverted to the border. This could well be
the case if some Israeli Arabs, as feared, join in Intifada-type activities.66 The
cautious Palestinian behavior during the Gulf War is evidence of an unwillingness to provoke harsh Israeli countermeasures during a crisis. This may change.
54
The use of force
These observations lead to the conclusion that a great effort should be made
to lower the level of violence as much as possible and to localize the conflict.
This would enable the political level to pursue a dialogue with the Palestinians
under better conditions. Establishing greater specific deterrence in the Palestinian streets is also extremely important; this would involve a greater military
effort. The limits of Israeli society’s tolerance for the use of force against the
Palestinians is not clear. While victory in a conventional sense may be impossible in the immediate future – and this is in the nature of small wars – reducing
violence to prevent an escalation is within reach.
The IDF’s true victory has been their ability to fight a somewhat controversial war with few scars. Despite the unpopularity of the small war it has been
engaged in, and despite the dark prophecies that the IDF would disintegrate, the
army has succeeded for now in adapting to the new situation and has managed to
survive the turmoil in Israel over the question of the destiny of the territories.
This is unquestionably partly the result of Israeli society’s ability to routinize
conflict. Furthermore, the political leadership understood that the use of force
would have to be accompanied by a peace plan. The existence of a National
Unity government minimized the tensions to some extent. Finally, the High
Command succeeded in creating an atmosphere in the army that tolerated a
certain degree of dissension, coupled with an insistence on strictly following
orders within a framework of accepted legality.
4
The ‘no choice war’ debate
in Israel
The Likud-led government decided on 5 June 1982 to order the Israel Defense
Forces (IDF) to enter south Lebanon. The official goal was to eliminate the
Palestinian military threat to the Israeli settlements in the northern part of the
country.1 The cabinet decision was approved the following day by a great
majority in the Knesset, including most opposition parties. But the national
consensus in favor of the war in Lebanon gradually disintegrated. The realization that Operation Peace for Galilee, the official name for the war, had actually
expanded beyond the initially stated goals and the discontent with the growing
number of Israeli casualties, lessened support for the military intervention in
Lebanon. The continued fighting, however, muted some of the criticism. At the
beginning, most politicians preferred to express their doubts or criticism in
closed forums, in spite of the fact that the media was voicing increased criticism of the war. Yet, following the August 1982 bombings of Beirut and
particularly in the aftermath of the massacres of Palestinians in the Sabra and
Shatila refugee camps that were perpetrated by the Phalangist forces – Israel’s
allies – opposition to the war became vocal and widespread.2 The discontent
was visible not only among the politicians of the opposition, but also in the
high echelons of the army, and even at the cabinet level. The war, its goals and
the way it was run became the center of a bitter political debate that has not yet
ended.
The acrimonious debate in Israel over the invasion of Lebanon unquestionably reflects a rise in widespread tension and deep cleavage in Israeli society.3
Indeed, foreign policy issues constitute the most important factor in the
Right–Left cleavage in Israel.4 Much political energy was directed to mere
polemics in order to score points in the struggle for the hearts of the electorate.
Yet the political quarrels over the war forced many of the politicians to clarify
their position concerning the issue of war. This aspect of the controversy, the
thinking about war in the Israeli political elite, is the focus of this chapter.5
The popular expression ‘no choice war’ focused most of the attention of the
debaters. The various ways this concept was understood are investigated here.
The debate around this term also disclosed the attitudes toward the use of force –
the last issue addressed in this work. First, however, the general tendency to
view war as a phenomenon over which Israel has little control is examined.
56
The use of force
War – a phenonemon forced upon Israel
Since its establishment in 1948, Israel has fought six wars: the 1948 Independence War, the 1956 Sinai Campaign, the 1967 Six Day War, the 1969–70 War
of Attrition, the 1973 Yom Kippur War and the 1982 Lebanon War. In addition,
the IDF have been used on many occasions at lower levels of violence in the
ladder of the use of force.6 The question who started the wars is obviously an
emotional and highly charged political issue. Conventional academic knowledge, which I subscribe to in this case, views the wars of 1948, of 1969 to 1970
and of 1973 as purely defensive, while the wars of 1956 and of 1967 are classified, respectively, as preventive and pre-emptive.7 The classification of the 1982
War became the bone of contention in the ongoing debate. The arguments used
in this political dialogue, though couched in different terms, are treated in the
next section. Indeed, most Israeli politicians seem to be unaware of the niceties
of war typologies. The general tendency is to regard all wars, with the exception
of the 1982 War, as forced upon Israel.
A seemingly fatalistic attitude that Israel was destined to be engaged in wars
is widespread. Rafael Eitan, Chief of Staff in 1982 and later on one of the rightwing Techia and Tzomet party leaders, recalled in his memoirs an incident when
he was called home from abroad to participate in a military operation. His reaction was, ‘I know I am back home . . . there is war. I do not complain; each
people with its destiny.’8 Moshe Arens, a prominent Likud leader, related the
existence of the endemic state of war in the Middle East to systemic factors.9
Such a perception of war as a phenomenon beyond human control was
common not only in the circles of the Right. Amnon Rubinstein, leader of the
center Shinui Party, wrote in one of his books, ‘Israel was destined to live in a
hostile world that refuses to accept it and to see it as a part of the Middle Eastern
reality.’10 This hostility created, in Rubinstein’s opinion, a constant danger of
war and annihilation.11
Shimon Peres, the Labour leader, explained the inevitability of war in the
past in historiosophic terms. He viewed the Middle East as being in a transition
period between a war era and a post-war era in a world divided into pre-war, war
and post-war regions. In his opinion, this historic process has advanced deterministically ‘according to proven dialectics’.12 He was optimistic about the
chances of a peaceful relationship in the region, but the role played by the forces
of history was emphasized, rather than the deeds of human beings. In the past,
according to Peres, Israel was doomed to live in a war era.
The Jewish attitudinal prism to foreign affairs is also conducive to the view
that the wars waged by Israel are a continuation of a typical pattern of Jewish
existence. Jewish history is seen as a unique struggle for survival in a
hostile environment. Many Israelis, and among them politicians, even hold a
Manichean Weltanschauung in which Jews face alone the hostile and/or untrustworthy gentiles.13 Such a perspective accentuates the feeling that wars are
inflicted on the Jewish nation and very little can be done about it. There is a
widespread belief in Israel in the inevitability of war.14
The ‘no choice war’ debate in Israel
57
The historic experience of the Jews in the Land of Israel in the twentieth
century, or its accepted interpretation, also reinforced such a view. The Zionist
endeavor faced a hostile welcome, and the use of force became a regular pattern
in the interaction with the Arab environment. Tremendous energy went into
building one of the best war machines in the post-Second World War period.
This machine was also tested quite often in battle.
Indeed, the most commonly used words in reference to the wars in which
Israel was involved are ‘forced upon’, ‘unwillingly’, ‘necessity’ or ‘inevitably’.
Israeli wars are usually regarded as ‘no choice wars’, a term discussed in the
next section. For example, Moshe Katzav, one of the younger generation Likud
leaders, said, ‘Israel has unfortunately experienced unwillingly many wars since
its establishment.’15 Dov Shilansky, a Likud MK, announced that ‘the war in the
north was forced upon us . . . and we had no choice but to act’.16 Similarly, his
party colleague, MK Meir Cohen-Avidov, had no hesitation in declaring that
‘The war in Lebanon, like the other wars of Israel, was forced upon us’.17 Even
Ariel Sharon, the architect of the war in Lebanon, stated, ‘. . . two weeks before
the Operation Peace for Galilee . . . I did not think this war would be forced upon
us so soon.’18
The clear preference for seeing participation in a war as being the result of
processes beyond the control of Israel is not a mere expression of insincerity.
Michael Waltzer aptly points out that ‘Wherever we find hypocrisy, we find also
moral knowledge’.19 War is obviously not a desirable act. Therefore, it is preferable to place the responsibility for its beginning and its results on the other side,
on systemic factors, or on the Jewish fate. To some extent, the language used by
Israeli politicians allows them to escape some of the responsibility for the
decisions leading to war.
This tendency to view war as the outcome of events for which Israel has no
responsibility is, as mentioned above, typical not only of the politicians on the
Right who supported the war in Lebanon. Shulamit Aloni, leader of the Movement for Civil Rights, a party toward the left of the Israeli political spectrum,
warned against the tendency to become involved in the Lebanese morass before
the war. She emphasized that with the exception of the Litani Operation
(a limited military incursion into Lebanon in March 1978), ‘All our previous
wars were wars of necessity.’20 Aaron Nachmias, a Labour MK, demanded that
an authority be established in May 1982 to take care of shelter building in Israel.
His explanation for his suggestion included, ‘We do not know when a war will
be forced on us by our enemies.’21 Similarly, his party colleague, MK Avraham
Katz-Oz, claimed before the war in Lebanon that all wars in which Israel had
participated were ‘forced upon us by outside factors’.22 Chaim Bar-Lev, a former
chief of staff and one of the Labour leaders, justified the first phase of the war in
1982 because ‘military action was inevitable in order to free the settlements
from the artillery threat’.23 In this speech he maintained that ‘such a military step
was necessary and justified’. He continued by criticizing the expansion of the
war, but quite interestingly he spoke of Israel as ‘sliding’ into the second phase.
Such an expression evokes connotations of an involuntary process.
58
The use of force
It seems that in Israeli political culture it is difficult to view war as an instrument of policy in the Clausewitzian tradition. Politicians prefer to regard warlike
activity in which Israel engages as something forced from outside upon
the Israeli political system. This characteristic also explains the reluctance of the
politicians to discuss the war aims of Israel.24 The political level has refrained
from delving into the important issue of the objectives of war, in spite of the fact
that continuous preparations for war consume a significant part of the national
energy. Under circumstances where survival seems to be at stake and where the
political culture displays a rather fatalistic attitude toward war, little intellectual
energy is left to think about the goals of the coming war.
The ‘no choice war’
Military power is regarded by most in Israel as the best guarantee for the existence of the state. The use of it has been, since 1982, the subject of national
disagreement. This public debate, following the breakdown of the national consensus regarding the objectives of the war and the way it was conducted by the
government, revolved around the distinction between a ‘no choice war’ and a
‘war by choice’.
The use of these terms, idiosyncratic of the Israeli political culture, served to
justify or to criticize the government. As a matter of fact, this distinction is
unreal. There is no such thing as a ‘no choice war’. There are always other
choices to make in reaction to an act of aggression or provocation, including surrender. The use of the notion of a ‘no choice war’ actually denies the freedom of
action the decision makers have. The decision to go to war is never adopted in
the absence of other options. In practice, other courses of action or inaction are
rejected by the deciding level. All this having been said, a ‘no choice war’ is a
widely used term in Israel.25 Moreover, it carries great political attraction. It is,
therefore, instructive to learn the meanings attached to this term.
The most common meaning is normative – a just war.26 The war is not willed
by Israel, but is forced upon the nation by its opponents. Therefore, the moral
responsibility for its results is transferred to the adversary whose acts caused the
war. Psychologically, as well as politically, this is a comfortable mechanism to
avoid responsibility connected with the decision to use military force. Such a
usage is reinforced by the tendency of the Israeli political elite to regard war as a
phenomenon forced upon Israel. The necessity to go to war constitutes its justification, in spite of the fact that current necessities might be the result of choices
made in the past. The charges, primarily from the Left, that the war in Lebanon
was not a ‘no choice war’ challenged the moral right of the government to wage
this war.
Initially, the Right made efforts to prove the ‘no choice’ quality of the 1982
military campaign. It pointed out the Palestinian military buildup in Lebanon and
particularly the artillery threat to the Israeli settlements along the northern border,
which had already paralysed civilian life in that area in July 1981. The developing public debate forced some of its participants to refine their arguments.
The ‘no choice war’ debate in Israel
59
Victor Shem-Tov, leader of the leftist Mapam, examined the justness of a war
in relation to the nature of the threat the state faces. He criticized the war in
Lebanon because ‘only an existential threat to Israel warrants going to war’.27
Since the PLO did not pose, in his opinion, an existential threat, the war cannot
be categorized as a ‘no choice’ one. Similarly the Peace Now movement
opposed the war because ‘war is permissible only in order to assure existence’.28
The perception of threat is, however, to some extent subjective. So is the timing
and scope of the prescribed reaction.
Yaakov Tzur, a Labour leader, qualified this argument. Military force was to
be used ‘only for the real and urgent security needs of Israel’.29 The immediateness of the threat was added as a criterion for evaluating the normative character
of the war. In spite of the additional criterion, Tzur’s list of just wars was quite
extensive. He professed to support defensive wars only, but he also included in
this category pre-emptive strikes.30 He probably did not accept a preventive war
as a justifiable action because of the distant nature of the threat. (He refrained,
however, from criticizing the 1956 War.) Indeed, some of the Likud members
described the 1982 War as preventive, particularly the attack on the Syrian
army. Yet the gravity of the Palestinian threat and its immediateness were
beyond doubt in the Likud circles. Some, including Begin, although regarding
the PLO as an existential threat, admitted that the existence of the State of Israel
was not at stake in 1982. Nevertheless, the potential for massive disruption of
normal life in the north was deemed unbearable. Tzur and others seemed to view
such a perception as incorrect or insincere. This, however, turns the focus of the
debate upon the clarity of the government’s perception, rather than upon the
issue of jus ad bellum.
Another mentioned criterion for lending justification to war was the demonstrated diplomatic effort to prevent it. The Peace Now movement demanded that all
other options be exhausted before using force to eliminate the existential threat.31
Abba Eban differentiated between the 1967 War and the one in 1982 precisely on
this account. In his opinion, the waiting period before the war in 1967 placed it in
the ‘no choice war’ category.32
Cumulatively, a quite coherent argument for assessing the normative character
of a ‘no choice war’ was presented to the Israeli public. In addition, it became
increasingly clear that the war had goals beyond the elimination of the artillery
threat to the northern settlements. Ousting Arafat from Beirut and the Syrians
from Lebanon, where a friendly government was to be established, did not
command the support of all Israelis. The government spokesmen had an increasingly difficult time portraying the war as a defensive ‘no choice’ campaign.
Then a bold attempt was made to give a new interpretation to the popular
term. This second sense was merely descriptive and not normative. It described
a situation in which the enemy initiates military steps that leave Israel ‘no
choice’ but to react militarily. The commitment to a certain line of action is,
however, a voluntary psycho-political process.33 In the heat of the debate, this
fact remained unrecognized. Begin decided to adopt the narrowest descriptive
meaning of the popular expression – Israeli action following an Arab attack. As
60
The use of force
far as he was concerned, only the Independence War, the War of Attrition and
the Yom Kippur War qualify for the ‘no choice’ epithet. The 1956 Suez Campaign, the 1967 Six Day War and the 1982 Operation Peace for Galilee fall into
a different type of military action which he called ‘war by choice’.34
Under the assumption that aggression is not to be tolerated and that it
demands military reaction, Begin’s narrow definition of the term was quite close
to its spirit. Philology was not Begin’s goal. He actually attempted to empty the
‘no choice war’ expression of its normative connotations. With his keen political
antennae, Begin sensed that in the absence of the possibility of portraying the
war in Lebanon as a ‘no choice war’, while this term had clear connotations of a
just war, a frontal attack on the term was needed. He attempted to supplant it
with a new term – ‘war by choice’ – which was to indicate a just and wise
policy. This was a daring and radical attempt to change a part of the Israeli political dictionary. At the same time, Begin claimed that by pursuing a ‘war by
choice’ policy he was simply following in the footsteps of his Labour predecessor governments. The war in Lebanon was presented as a version of the 1956
and the 1967 wars. Their distinct common feature was, in Begin’s opinion, the
Israeli initiative to open hostilities.
In contrast, the ‘no choice war’ was described as one in which the Arabs have
the initiative. Furthermore, such a war ‘could bring upon any nation a catastrophe, if not a holocaust, and it causes terrible losses in life’.35 The dangers
involved in such a war are great and the casualty level is very high. Begin
pointed out that Israel suffered many casualties in 1948, in 1969 to 1970 and in
1973. In contrast, the wars initiated by the Labour-led governments in 1956 and
1967 ended with relatively light casualties. Begin mobilized the history of the
Second World War to strengthen his case. He argued that an early military initiative against Germany could have shortened the war and significantly reduced
the casualties. (He conveniently ignored the failure of the German ‘war by
choice’.) Therefore, Israel would be wrong in aspiring to wage ‘no choice wars’.
It is not wise to wait until a ‘no choice war’ situation develops. Menachem
Begin, the activist, was also attracted to the concept of ‘choice’ – the Jewish
initiative.36 The moral ground for using force was self-defense. The war against
the PLO was considered by Begin, as well as by most Israelis, as a clear case of
self-defense. Begin preferred this term in justifying the use of force.37 Selfdefense is obviously a large enough category with which Begin and others can
feel comfortable.
Rafael Eitan, the Chief of Staff in 1982, also rejected the normative use of the
‘no choice war’ expression. He accepted Begin’s descriptive usage, but pointed
out the psychological element in it. According to his definition, a ‘no choice
war’ was one that commanded national consensus. Yet such a war was according to Eitan a most dangerous one. He asked rhetorically whether the 1973 War
was the ideal example:
That was a classic ‘no choice war’. National consensus was reached and
there was no cleavage. There was a festival of unity. The government
The ‘no choice war’ debate in Israel
61
‘succeeded’ with a great effort in bringing the IDF and the state to a ‘no
choice’ situation. Now let us fight together, in exemplary unity, for Israel’s
existence.38
The assumption that war was permissible only when the general public shares
the feeling that war remained the only option available was unacceptable to
Eitan from a moral, as well as a practical perspective.
One Labour leader seemed to share the reluctance to use the ‘no choice war’
term. It was little used by Rabin. He was aware of the need to have broad
national support in case of an initiated military campaign. Lack of consensus has
little effect on the normative character of the war, but negatively influences the
national stamina required to endure the difficulties of war. According to Rabin,
the feeling of ‘no choice’ was an important asset in waging war, but not a normative precondition.39
Begin’s challenge of the popular notion of ‘no choice war’ was not successful. For the first time a war was presented in Israel not in the well-rooted political terminology. As the war became less popular, as the massive involvement in
Lebanon was prolonged and as the casualty numbers increased almost daily,
Begin’s attempt failed. Moreover, this attempt to redefine the well-rooted
expression conflicted with the prevalent tendency to see war as something
forced upon Israel, rather than chosen.
The use of force and its goals
The fierce debate about how just the war in Lebanon was also revealed disagreements over the proper goals for the use of force in general. As mentioned, most
Israeli parties supported the beginning of the war without reservation. Only its
expansion beyond the 45 km range and the increase in the number of the casualties precipitated the bitter public debate. The establishment of a friendly Christian-dominated government in Lebanon and the full withdrawal of the Syrian
occupation forces from that country were not regarded by all in Israel as goals
warranting going to war.
The prevalent attitude in the Israeli political elite considered war as useful and
permissible only to prevent the fulfillment of the enemy’s manifest hostile intentions. According to the preventive approach, Israel has nothing to gain from a
war, and its interest is therefore to delay a military encounter for as long as
possible. Such an approach may be the result of a normative stand concerning
war, or a utilitarian evaluation of what can be attained through force, or both. In
contrast, a Clausewitzian approach might advocate the use of force under some
circumstances in order to enhance deterrence so as to prevent a war at an inopportune time, or to promote certain political goals. This mode of thinking,
although not indifferent to moral factors, emphasizes a utilitarian cost–benefit
analysis. Such Clausewitzian thinking became more apparent particularly after
the rise to power of the Likud in 1977.40 Indeed, the Likud governments displayed a greater propensity to use force than their immediate Labour
62
The use of force
predecessor.41 This expanded activity, directed primarily against Palestinian military targets in Lebanon, did not drastically diverge from policies implemented by
previous governments. Moreover, until 1982, a large-scale reserves mobilization
was not necessary to pursue the goals entertained. Only the objectives of the war
in Lebanon became a source of dissent. The language used by Israeli politicians
does not always allow the observer to deduce clearly the approach adopted. Since
the debate in Israel revolved to a great extend around the issue of jus ad bellum,
the normative dimension captured most of the attention. To some extent, this
blurred the distinction between the two approaches mentioned. Clausewitzians
seemed less inclined to use a normative language.
Rabin, one of the more lucid Israeli leaders on the subject of war, distinguished between two types of goals: one group of goals relates to the direct
security of Israel’s citizens, its interests and borders, while the second group of
goals, though desirable, is neither directly related to, nor does it have a direct
influence on the security of the state.42 An example of the second type of goals is
the establishment of a friendly government in Lebanon. The Labourite MK
Yaakov Tzur made a similar distinction between urgent and limited goals, and
war aims of a larger scope and longer range.43 Tzur, like others, was unwilling to
justify a war waged for the second type of objectives. In contrast, Rabin refused
to deny legitimacy to the second group of war objectives, although he expressed
reservation concerning the effectiveness of the use of force in order to attain
them. In Rabin’s opinion, the issue has never been how just Israel’s wars are;
they are so in any case. The cardinal question concerning wars is whether they
are ‘worthwhile, necessary or desirable’.44
Indeed, some members of the Israeli political elite expressed their disagreement with the government goals in Lebanon in normative language, while others
were less concerned with the normative aspects of the war. Peres, like Rabin,
found no moral fault with any military action against an Arab country as long as
it was in a state of war with Israel.45 Formally, Israel had the right to attack the
PLO or the Syrians. But it was the feasibility of achieving the goals in Lebanon
and their price that was at issue. Their criticism of the war, shared by others,
mainly reflected a calculus of utility, rather than normative deliberations. Peres,
for example, pointed out the negative results: Israel’s deterrent power was
reduced, the regional arms race was fueled and the Soviet presence was
enhanced.46 The criticism of the war could stem, therefore, from a normative
negation of its expanded goals, or from a Clausewitzian perspective that
emphasized a cost–benefit analysis.
The war in Lebanon clearly underscored the limits of military power, a fact
that had been realized by many Israeli leaders before 1982. Some goals were
clearly not attainable through force. Shimon Peres wrote, ‘The military balance
and the differential in the potential military power do not enable Israel a decisive
military victory to achieve a peace treaty with the Arabs – on Israel’s terms.’47
Similarly, his Labour colleague, Chaim Bar-Lev stated that, ‘The special geostrategic situation of Israel does not allow solving the Arab–Israeli conflict on
the battle field . . . under such geo-strategic circumstances Israel cannot force the
The ‘no choice war’ debate in Israel
63
Arab world to accept unconditional surrender.’48 Yitzhak Rabin also expressed
his strong reservation toward the idea that a military solution to the conflict with
the Arab countries is possible and warned that a ‘knock-out war’ to put an end to
all wars was an illusion.49 Therefore, forcing a peace treaty on Lebanon was
viewed by him as a totally unrealistic goal.
Israel had indeed used force in the past for goals other than immediate security concerns. In the Sinai Campaign, as well as in the War of Attrition, the destabilization of the Nasserite regime in Egypt was attempted. In 1970 Israel
threatened the use of force against Syria, at America’s request, to help the
Hashemite regime in Jordan. Various political goals, including internal politics,
motivated some of Israel’s reprisals against its Arab neighbors.50 Those opposing the war, challenged by Begin’s insistence of not behaving differently in
1982 from his Labour predecessors, could deny such an assertion, or could claim
that only in a few instances had previous Labour governments digressed from
the accepted norm of preferring rather limited goals.
Rabin saw the resemblance between 1956 and 1982. He did, however, praise
Ben Gurion for withdrawing from the far-reaching goals of the Sinai Campaign.51
Rabin, the realist, was skeptical about the feasibility of achieving such goals in
the Middle East. This position was the result of ‘the awareness that there is
neither moral right nor practical use in holding to the illusion that force can
achieve basic political goals or final solutions to the Arab–Israeli conflict’.52
Political goals are acceptable, but radical ones are not attainable, in his opinion.
The normative reservation in his statement stemmed from a utilitarian estimate
that certain goals were not within reach. The moral quality of the realist is, as
Morgenthau put it, prudence.53 Rabin has had a reputation for extreme caution, in
spite of the fact that on several occasions he did not hesitate to recommend the
massive use of force for political goals. For example, he played a key role in the
decisions leading to the long-range air raids against Egypt in 1970 to undermine
Nasser’s regime. Rabin, then Israel’s ambassador in Washington, evaluated that
the Americans were interested in an escalation along the Suez Canal and that a
hesitating Israeli position could negatively influence US Middle East policy.54
Bar-Lev, in contrast to Rabin, singled out the 1982 War among the wars Israel
fought. He, like his party colleague Tzur, refused to lend it legitimacy because
the fulfillment of its goals was not ‘a vital need for the existence of Israel’.55 This
was a preventive approach position. Later in his speech, he described freedom of
navigation to Eilat – one of the goals in 1956 – as a vital Israeli interest. This
allowed some flexibility to the notion of vital security needs. In any case, ‘Goals
like the establishment of a strong government in Lebanon and ousting the Syrians
and the last of the Palestinian terrorists from there are desirable, but do not justify
the use of force.’56 Interestingly, in 1981 he had refused to dismiss the possibility
of an Israeli intervention in Lebanon to help the Christians. Then, he had some
misgivings only about the timing of the operation.57 Furthermore, he never criticized the Six Day War, in spite of the fact that he did not share the conventional
view that Israel’s existence was at stake in 1967. Possibly, Bar-Lev was forced
into such a seeming inconsistency in the heat of the debate.
64
The use of force
Far more consistent views may be found in the formulations of the archsupporter of the war in Lebanon, the Techia leader Yuval Neeman. He even
demanded changes in the international border with Lebanon to allow Israel the
use of the Litani River waters.58 He was one of the few leaders who openly dealt
with the Israeli goals in a future war. He envisioned far-reaching objectives in
order to drastically change the political reality in the Middle East. He considered
the destruction of the Syrian state in order to allow political independence to the
Druze. Similarly, in the case of a general war with the Arabs, he suggested
establishing a Kurdish state in northern Iraq. He advocated the ‘strengthening of
the demographic heterogeneity of the Middle East and the prevention of the full
Arabization of the area’.59 A large-scale war should, in his opinion, be the
opportunity to annex southern Lebanon, as well as southern Jordan, ‘a rather
unpopulated region of great importance to the development of southern Israel’.60
This area could also serve, in his opinion, as an effective threat against Saudi
Arabia. Those goals were to be achieved only in a case where Israel was
attacked by its neighbors. This qualification is actually no more than lip-service
to the Israeli preference for regarding wars as something forced on it. Indeed, he
criticized the lack of Israeli military initiatives before 1973. The governments of
Levi Eshkol and Golda Meir would be ill remembered for ‘giving up an activist
policy in an era of strength’.61 Neeman displayed no qualms about using the IDF
to introduce far-reaching political changes in the Middle East. He belongs
unquestionably to the Clausewitzian approach.
Another Clausewitzian was Ariel Sharon. He was the main force in the
formulation of the conceptual framework behind the war in Lebanon. The goals
he entertained included not only the weakening of the PLO but also the elimination of the military threat to the north of the country. Sharon wanted to draw a
new political map in Lebanon and hoped that the war in Lebanon would divert
international attention from Israeli control of Judea and Samaria. Furthermore,
during his tenure as Defense Minister, Israel extended its security concerns far
beyond its immediate Arab neighbors. As Sharon said, ‘Israel’s sphere of strategic and security interests must be broadened in the 1980s to countries such as
Turkey, Iran and Pakistan, and regions such as the Persian Gulf and Africa,
particularly the countries of North and Central Africa.’62 In Sharon’s global
perspective Israel was also a full partner in the American attempt to stop Soviet
encroachment.63 Indeed, the December 1981 Memorandum of Understanding
between Israel and the US, which was the product of Sharon’s diplomatic
efforts, may be understood as allowing the possibility of Israeli troops being
engaged in such an endeavor. Under heavy criticism Sharon denied such an
intention. Sharon also flirted with the idea of using the IDF to topple Hussein in
order to facilitate the establishment of a Palestinian state on the east bank of the
Jordan River to ease the continuation of Israeli control of its west bank. Sharon
viewed the IDF as a legitimate instrument for a daring Israeli foreign policy.
Some supporters of the war in Lebanon probably felt uncomfortable defending it in outspoken Clausewitzian language. Rafael Eitan, Chief of Staff in 1982,
was one of them. He, like Neeman and Sharon, rejected any criticism of the
The ‘no choice war’ debate in Israel
65
political goals associated with the campaign in Lebanon. He reacted in typical
Clausewitzian fashion: ‘The army was created and exists as an instrument for
the political level.’64 Nevertheless, he preferred to present the intended internal
changes in the Lebanese political system, as well as the diversion of attention
from the issue of Israeli control of Judea and Samaria and the weakening of the
PLO’s influence there as ancillary goals. The main goal was to destroy the PLO
infrastructure in Lebanon.65 Moreover, in Eitan’s opinion, the war in Lebanon
was simply inevitable. The only question left open was its timing.66 The truth of
the matter was that Eitan preferred to fight the Palestinians only, and the expansion of the arena of encounter to the Syrian-controlled zone was not his
initiative.
Yitzhak Shamir, the Foreign Affairs Minister in 1982 and Begin’s successor
to the premiership in 1983, also maintained that the Operation Peace for Galilee
had only one objective – the security of Israel’s citizens in the north of the
country. He welcomed, however, the fact that ‘the campaign opened a real
chance to rehabilitate Lebanon, to restore its sovereignty to its land by removing
the elements that established on its land terrorist bases against Israel and the
whole world’.67 Since the prospect of securing approval for the political goals in
Lebanon as warranting war was small, those goals were presented as a welcome
by-product of an Israeli military initiative against Palestinian terrorists. In a
political culture that is not conducive to a discussion of war aims, secondary
goals of this sort commanded little support. Such goals were present, mostly
tacitly, in past Israeli military actions. Transforming them into declared goals,
particularly when their attainment seemed very costly or improbable, was met
with resistance. The use for the term ‘ancillary goals’ was another attempt by the
Likud not only to defend the war, but also to introduce a new term into Israeli
political jargon, possibly to erode the support for the preventive approach.
Interestingly, Begin, in spite of his support for the war in Lebanon, cannot be
classified as belonging to the Clausewitzian school of thought. Although one of
the few Israeli politicians to mention Clausewitz by name, Begin disassociated
himself from Clausewitzian thinking. In a speech to senior officers of the IDF
he said:
Clausewitz is a bit outdated. His famous quote that war is the continuation
of policy by other means has no place in today’s reality. War does not continue anything. It is a break from everything; it is a world in itself, primarily
because it is associated with killings; politically it is also an entirely different issue.68
His support for the 1982 War as a ‘war by choice’ was not formulated in Clausewitzian terms. Begin wanted to save casualties. As far as he was concerned, the
1982 War was directed against the Palestinian terrorist organizations. Begin
realized that those organizations did not constitute a threat to the mere existence
of the State of Israel.69 Yet any challenge to the security of Israelis or Jews had
to be met with a forceful reaction. According to his Zionist conviction, the State
66
The use of force
of Israel constituted a change in Jewish history from passivity to activism,
particularly in the area of the use of military force. This was a matter of honor
rather than an instrumental use of force.70 Furthermore, the PLO was seen as an
existential ontological enemy.71 Begin’s inclination to think in legalistic terms
also did not sit well with a Clausewitzian approach.
Begin was unquestionably attracted to the idea of changing the political map
of the Middle East in one military stroke. The revisionist school of thought envisioned dramatic events of drastic historical significance, in contrast to the evolutionary thinking in other Zionist quarters. Force could bring about such events.72
Yet it is not clear to what extent he was a full partner to the formulation of the
ambitious war aims.73
In general, the right-wing parties in Israel seemed more inclined to utilize
force to further state interests. Some, however, although Clausewitzian in
their thinking, were more realistic about what was attainable through force.
Mordechai Tzipori, a Likud cabinet member in 1982, was known for his opposition to the expansion of the war. As mentioned, he was the one cabinet member
who seemed to be dissatisfied with the minimalist preventive approach and
demanded to put on the political agenda the issue of war objectives. Nevertheless, he preferred rather limited goals, ‘The State of Israel should go to war only
to defend itself – to defend its borders, to prevent hostile threats against the
state, its citizens and their property.’74 Similarly, Moshe Arens, Sharon’s successor as Defense Minister, realized the limitations of military force. He emphasized Israel’s inability to coerce its Arab opponents to make peace with it.75
The Clausewitzian approach was not very popular in Israel. The general attitudes toward war created a reluctance to regard the use of force as a policy
instrument. Furthermore, such thinking was discredited by the fact that perceived extremist politicians of the Right, such as Neeman and Sharon, were
associated with it.
Conclusion
In the Israeli political culture there is a clear tendency to regard war as a phenomenon forced upon the political system. This is obviously rooted in the
accepted interpretation of past and recent Jewish history. However, such an
inclination allows the politicians to evade the responsibility for its outbreak. Furthermore, it has a paralyzing intellectual effect. The clearest example is the
reluctance to address the issue of war objectives.
The rooted political terminology associated the notion of a ‘no choice war’
with a just war. Because all past wars were considered to be of ‘no choice’
quality, the array of possible ‘no choice wars’ was flexible and it could also
include preventive wars. The goals permissible were directly linked with security concerns. Such concerns were narrowly defined by most Israeli politicians.
The attempt to introduce into the political language new terms such as ‘war by
choice’ or ‘ancillary goals’ was hardly successful, in spite of the fact that a
preventive approach could accommodate such terms. At the declarative level,
The ‘no choice war’ debate in Israel
67
most politicians were identified with the preventive approach. Indeed, the
Clausewitzian mode of thinking on war was not often reflected in what the
Israeli politicians had to say.
The approach to the use of force is not necessarily indicative of policy advocacy. Rabin was a cautious Clausewitzian who questioned the wisdom of the
war in Lebanon, while Begin, who rejected Clausewitz’s teachings, was morally
committed to destroying the PLO in that country. Furthermore, Begin’s greatest
support for the war came from Neeman, an ardent Clausewitzian. The failure of
the 1982 War, associated as it was with a change in Israeli security thinking
during the Likud period, prevented the possibility of rooting a more Clausewitzian attitude toward war in Israeli political culture.
Part III
The post-Cold War period
5
Israel and the Gulf War
Iraq, under the leadership of Saddam Hussein, invaded Kuwait on 2 August 1990.
It was a bold attempt on the part of Saddam Hussein to challenge the regional
order and to assert his hegemony over the Middle East. Iraq’s military power
(whose army ranked at that time as the fifth largest in the world), in combination
with the newly acquired riches of oil-producing Kuwait, could have catapulted Iraq
to the leadership position in the Arab world. Moreover, the Iraqi control of its own
oil reserves and Kuwait’s, as well as its ability to threaten Saudi Arabian oilfields,
could have granted Baghdad a major role in the world oil market (56 percent of
world proved reserves), further enhancing its regional aspirations and importance.1
Iraq’s conquest of Kuwait, with the potential upgrading of its national might
and of its regional status, also constituted a significant security challenge for Israel.
Iraq has always been a bitter enemy of Israel and had even sent expeditionary
forces to fight in all Arab wars against Israel (1948, 1967 and 1973). In contrast to
Israel’s immediate neighbors, it never signed any type of armistice agreement and
continued to consider itself in a state of war with the ‘Zionist State’. Iraq’s leader
was notorious for his vitriolic statements against Israel.2 As recently as April 1990,
Saddam Hussein had threatened ‘to burn half of Israel’ with chemical weapons.3
His threats had a ring of credibility because prior to the August invasion he had
deployed launchers of Scud-C missiles to western Iraq, capable of carrying warheads to Israel. Moreover, Saddam was widely believed to be waiting for an appropriate opportunity to take revenge on Israel for its successful destruction of the
Iraqi nuclear research reactor near Baghdad in June 1981, which was instrumental
in delaying for a considerable time the fruition of the Iraqi nuclear program.
This chapter analyzes the Israeli responses to the new Iraqi challenge. The
following pages review Israel’s behavior during the crisis and analyze how
Jerusalem coped with the dilemmas presented by the subsequent US-led Desert
Storm Operation, which started on 17 January 1991. The final section deals with
several strategic implications of the 1990 to 1991 events for Israel.
The prewar period
The invasion of Kuwait gave rise to grave concern in Jerusalem, as it could constitute a substantial change in Israel’s geostrategic envelope and confirmed the
72
The post-Cold War period
Israeli prognosis of the harsh Middle Eastern realities, which are not easily
conducive to peaceful coexistence. It definitely reinforced the high threat perceptions of the Yitzhak Shamir-led right-wing government, the most hawkish in
Israel’s political history (installed in June 1990).
Initial reaction
Initially, the occupation of Kuwait was seen as a fait accompli, which the international community would hardly be prepared to challenge. Skepticism about
the power of the economic sanctions to move Saddam into surrendering Kuwait
was widespread. Israelis perceived the deployment of American troops to Saudi
Arabia primarily as a defensive move intended to deter Iraq from invading Saudi
Arabia and its oilfields in the northeast. At the end of August, Shamir was pessimistic about the outcome of the efforts to resolve the Gulf crisis by diplomatic
means.4 The initially strong American stand against Saddam’s aggression was
somewhat of a pleasant surprise for the Israeli government. Yet, the American
commitment to use force to liberate Kuwait was questioned throughout the
crisis. In the last days of 1990, Israeli Defense Minister Moshe Arens still
believed that even the slightest gesture on the part of Saddam toward a partial
withdrawal would cause President George Bush to delay any military action.5
Within a short time of the Iraqi invasion, Israelis realized that their country
might also become a target in the framework of the ambitious Iraqi hegemonic
quest, or in response to an American attack on Iraqi targets. Iraqi aggression
against Israel became more likely as the crisis evolved. President Bush was successful in creating international consensus against Iraqi occupation of Kuwait
during the autumn of 1990; he imposed economic sanctions on Iraq and mustered legitimacy for an increased American military presence in the Gulf and for
the possible use of military force to evict the Iraqi troops from Kuwait.
Initially, the diversion of attention from the intractable Israeli–Palestinian
conflict was a relief for Israel. However, it was short-lived. While the US assembled an international coalition, Iraq attempted to weaken it, by linking the solution to the occupation of Kuwait to a resolution of the disputed territories in the
Israeli–Syrian and Israeli–Palestinian conflicts. Championing the Palestinian
cause gained support in the streets of the Arab world, as did additional Iraqi
threats against Israel. The Iraqi threats gradually became more strident and were
accompanied by missile tests, which were supposed to demonstrate not only
intentions to harm Israel, but also capabilities.
The great popularity of Saddam in the streets of Arab cities all over the Arab
world further heightened Israeli threat perception. The general acclaim to
Saddam’s anti-Israeli rhetoric, in contrast to his brutal dictatorship and poor
governance record, triggered among Israelis the ‘evoked set’ concept that the
Arabs are basically intent on destroying the Jewish state.6 Yet, the Israeli perceptions of grave danger as a result of the emergence of a mighty Iraq capable of
manipulating Gulf oil and petrodollars for imperial schemes were shared by its
Arab neighbors. The fears that the Iraqi army might march into Saudi Arabia
Israel and the Gulf War
73
existed also in Washington.7 Israel hoped that the convergence of many national
interests inside and outside the Arab world would prevent Iraqi hegemony in the
Gulf region, which had wider implications for future Middle East politics and
alignments.8 Yet, the determination of the US to check Iraqi revisionism, which
is now a known fact, was then often doubted until the war broke out on
17 January 1991.
Israel also harbored suspicions that it would have to foot the bill for the
building and maintaining of the coalition, by being pressured by the US to make
concessions to the Arabs after the crisis ended. In addition, it feared that the
American arms sales to Arab states would erode the balance of power. When the
US announced its intention to sell advanced weapons to Saudi Arabia, a country
not at peace with Israel, the Israeli government faced the dilemma of opposing
Washington on the US arms deals or accepting them and settling for compensation, thereby minimizing tensions with the Bush Administration.
Israeli policies
The day after the conquest of Kuwait, Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir convened
a small informal group for consultations (including Arens, the IDF Chief of
Staff, Lt. Gen. Dan Shomron, and a few ministers close to the Prime Minister),
which revolved around the question of the inevitability of an Iraqi–Israeli clash.
Shamir believed that Saddam sought to engage Israel in hostilities in order
to break out of his isolation and score points in the inter-Arab competition for a
leadership role. Therefore, Shamir preferred a low-profile policy in order not to
provide an easy pretext for Iraqi aggression and not to complicate the American
efforts to defend Saudi Arabia. This preference became the dominant feature of
the Israeli policy until after the end of the Gulf War.9
Israel favored a wide American military attack to devastate Iraqi conventional might, as well as its chemical capabilities and nuclear program, believed
at the time to be anywhere between two and five years from completion. Therefore, Jerusalem went along with the American preferences for keeping Israel
uninvolved and promised Washington not to use the crisis for pre-emptive measures against Iraqi facilities. Shamir reiterated his complete endorsement of US
policy on the Gulf crisis and expressed readiness to help militarily, if necessary,
although he was content to maintain the low-profile policy.10
From mid-August, the Israeli Air Force (IAF) and its air defense system were
put on increasing levels of alert to intercept Iraqi planes as the war drew
nearer.11 Throughout the crisis, the IDF started planning and training for complicated missions to deal with Iraqi missile launchers. However, it became very
clear that carrying out such missions required coordination with the American
Air Force, needed because Israel preferred not to cross Jordanian airspace and
fight the Jordanians in order to attain air superiority, which would jeopardize the
coalition’s cohesion and the stability of the Hashemite regime.12 Instead, Israel
wanted to fly through Saudi airspace, whose tacit permission for transit could be
secured only through Washington.
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The post-Cold War period
The Israeli military intelligence also set up a special group of psychologists
to prepare a psychological profile of Saddam in order to predict whether he
would attack Israel. The classified report, which came to the conclusion that
Saddam was just waiting for a pretext to attack Israel and that he had no
restraints whatsoever, except considerations relating to his own survival, was
challenged within the intelligence community and also by the CIA, and was
therefore not accepted as a working assumption.13
Parallel to the preparations for retaliation, Israel deliberately attempted to
enhance its deterrence by issuing several public warnings by senior ministers.14
In August, Yitzhak Shamir warned, ‘Anybody that will attempt to attack Israel
will bring upon himself a terrible catastrophe.’15 A month later, he said that
Israel took Iraq’s threats seriously, and warned that it would strike back.16 Similarly, Arens declared in November that Israel’s reaction to an Iraqi attack
would not be ‘low profile’.17 In December, Foreign Minister David Levy warned
Iraq that, in case of aggression against Israel, the response would be very determined,18 while Arens stated in January 1991 that, if attacked, ‘Israel will not
hesitate to respond.’19
The Iraqi chemical weapons’ potential was of particular concern to Israel,
although it had no conclusive evidence that Iraq had chemical warheads for its
missiles. Despite the realization that Saddam had used chemical weapons
against adversaries during the Iran–Iraq War (1980–88), on several occasions
Arens offered evaluations stating that Iraq did not have the chemical warheads
for missiles; that its ability to cause great damage to Israel was limited; and that
there was only a small likelihood of an Iraqi chemical attack on Israel. Arens
decided initially against giving out gas masks to the civilian population in order
to prevent the creation of panic and not to signal to Saddam that Israel took
chemical attacks into consideration. Yet, on 19 August, David Levy demanded
that the Ministry of Defense hand out gas masks, a task which was complicated
by the inadequate availability of gas masks, particularly for children. Israel hurriedly purchased such items in Europe. The government gave in to popular pressure and, on 7 October, started providing masks to citizens living in the urban
centers. Later on, the Ministry of Defense responded to public demands and distributed masks also to the rural areas.20 In general, by the end of the five-month
interval until war broke out, the civil population was better prepared for chemical warfare.21 Following the failure of the meeting between US Secretary of
State James Baker and Iraqi Foreign Minister Tariq Aziz on 9 January 1991,
Israel upgraded its preparations for chemical warfare. It mobilized reserve civil
defense units and launched a multi-language public educational campaign (in
Hebrew, Arabic, Russian and Amharic). The government instructed citizens to
carry their gas masks at all times and to prepare a sealed room in their homes in
case of a chemical attack.
As the 15 January deadline approached and war became increasingly likely,
Israeli concerns about Iraqi aggression increased correspondingly. The premise
of Arens was that the prospects for missile attacks on Israel would grow following an American attack on Iraq.22 Indeed, when the Iraqi Foreign Minister was
Israel and the Gulf War
75
asked whether US military action against his country would lead to an attack on
Israel, he replied, ‘Yes. Absolutely yes.’23 On 15 January, the government
decided to close the schools from the next day onward as a precautionary
measure.
The Jordanian angle
Jordan’s relations with Israel were generally characterized by tacit strategic
cooperation against Palestinian nationalism and the hegemonic impulses emanating from Cairo, Damascus or Baghdad. Yet weak Jordan had to play a finetuned balancing act in the intra-Arab arena.24 From the outset of the 1990 crisis,
Israel feared that Iraqi–Jordanian military cooperation would expand and Jordan
would not be able to resist the pressure to become the staging area for a land
and/or artillery attack on Israel. Jordan allowed Iraqi war planes, painted with
Jordanian colors, to conduct reconnaissance and photographing missions along
the Israeli border. Iraqi planes took pictures of the Israeli nuclear reactor at
Dimona. Moreover, high-level Iraqi field officers toured the border and the possible invasion routes into Israel. Jordan’s proximity to Israel’s population
centers turned the Hashemite Kingdom into a key component of a putative
eastern front. The possibility of deployment of Iraqi forces along the Jordan
River became a serious Israeli concern following the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait.
Arens had already conveyed such apprehensions to the US in July 1990.
Arens and others within the Israeli security establishment also feared that
King Hussein would not be able to withstand popular pressures, as had happened prior to the June 1967 War, and would actively side with Saddam
Hussein in operations against Israel.25 Moreover, Shamir believed that the Jordanian involvement in a war on Iraq’s side would put an end to the Hashemite
Kingdom.26 Therefore, Shamir instructed Arens to state that the entrance of
Iraqi troops into Jordan would constitute a ‘red line’, which in Israeli strategic
parlance meant a casus belli. From the Knesset podium on 6 August, Arens
unequivocally warned against Iraqi military presence in Jordan. Moreover, the
Israeli Prime Minister conveyed the same message to President Bush and to the
Jordanians.27 As Jordan’s alignment with Iraq became clearer during the first
months following the invasion and as it helped Iraq overcome the American-led
economic boycott, Israel’s concerns grew. Indeed, in December 1990, David
Levy warned Jordan once more against allowing its territory or airspace to be
used for launching an Iraqi assault on Israel.28 In response to the Israeli concerns and because of fears of an Israeli attempt to destabilize his kingdom,
King Hussein called for a secret meeting with Shamir in London on 5 January
1991.29 He wanted an Israeli promise to refrain from using Jordanian territory
and airspace in its struggle against Iraq. Shamir agreed, on condition that the
Jordanian army would prevent Iraqi flights in its airspace and that all military
cooperation between Amman and Baghdad would end. Shamir’s only caveat to
Hussein was that Israel would not be bound by their agreement in the event of
an Iraqi invasion of Jordan.30
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The post-Cold War period
US–Israeli relations
Prior to the Kuwait invasion, relations between Jerusalem and Washington were
marred by the reluctance of Israel’s government to go along with the American
suggestions for negotiating an agreement with the Palestinians, which would bring
an end to the Palestinian uprising (Intifada). The Bush Administration attempted to
pressure Israel to change its settlement policy in Judea and Samaria by withholding the grant of US-guaranteed loans for the absorption of Soviet immigrants, who
were arriving by the hundreds of thousands, most practically destitute. In July, it
also delayed talks on strategic cooperation between the two countries.31
The crisis, however, brought about an amelioration in US–Israeli relations as the
issues of dispute became secondary. Moreover, the US wanted Israel to stay out of
the crisis so as not to disrupt its fragile multinational diplomatic and military effort
with other Arab states in confronting Saddam. From the beginning of the crisis the
US urged Israel to refrain from action, which could complicate the US attempts to
build a large coalition to back its diplomatic and, if necessary, military efforts, to
restore the status quo ante in Kuwait. Washington wanted to decouple the Gulf
crisis from the Arab–Israeli nexus, which suited Israeli interests. This American
preference assumed that Israeli involvement in the conflict might increase Arab
support for Iraq and even lead to desertion of the US-led coalition by several Arab
states (Syria most likely). Baker wrote, ‘Throughout the prewar period, keeping
Israel out of the conflict had been a central strategic concern of our diplomacy.’32
The US was afraid that an Iraqi attack on Israel would weaken the Arabs’ willingness to ally themselves with the US, despite their interest in seeing Iraq crushed.
The US continuously demanded reassurances from the Israeli leadership that
it would not pre-empt. Shamir, during his December visit to Washington,
repeated personally Israel’s pledge to Bush not to make pre-emptive moves.
When asked of the Israeli response to an attack, Shamir responded that Israel
would defend itself and would consult with the US, but was careful not to
promise that he would seek permission to use force.33
Israel, which had marketed itself as a strategic asset, found itself outside the
military contingency plans of the US. Bush and Baker visited the Middle East
and met with Arab leaders, but omitted Israel from their itinerary. Israel felt it
was not being treated as an ally.34 Israel wanted access to American intelligence
on Iraq, and operational coordination between the US military and the IDF to
deal effectively with various contingencies.35 Coordination with the American
Air Force was sought in particular, because Israel feared that before the coalition
acted, Saddam would hit Israel, or the coalition would fail in eliminating the
Scud missiles’ threat. Israel believed that it could do a good job fighting the missiles with the Americans or alone. Moreover, Israel wanted to prove its value as
an ally. The US continuously reassured Israel that the coalition would deal
effectively with the targets in western Iraq that threatened Israel and refused to
establish a coordination mechanism.36
Israel made several requests for access to real-time intelligence from US satellites, but was turned down.37 Israel was also originally left out of the Operation
Israel and the Gulf War
77
Desert Storm supplemental foreign aid package. It was additionally disappointed
because it was not included among the ‘front line’ states, which became eligible
for compensation by the Gulf Crisis Financial Coordination Group (chaired by
the US). In September, Arens requested money and weapons from a reluctant
administration that agreed to offer two batteries of Patriot surface-to-air missiles
(SAMs), twelve to fifteen surplus F-15s and ammunition for artillery and tanks in
order to secure Israeli cooperation.38 In December, Shamir requested mechanisms
for better communication and only in January was a special secure telephone line,
code-named ‘Hammer Rick’, established between Secretary of Defense Richard
Cheney and Arens to allow better warning of incoming missiles. In January, the
US also offered to deploy in Israel US-manned Patriots, but Arens refused
because he did not want a precedent of foreign forces participating in the defense
of Israel, although this is ultimately what happened.39
Public warnings by David Levy in early January that an Iraqi attack would be
considered an act of war and would prompt terrible retribution elicited concerns
in Washington, and the President sent to Israel two top officials who were
particularly trusted by the Israelis – Deputy Secretary of State Lawrence Eagleburger and Under-Secretary of Defense for Policy Paul Wolfowitz – to urge
restraint.40 As Shamir was not ready to commit himself to refrain from reaction to
Iraqi aggression and continued to demand coordination with the US, Eagleburger
suggested that in case Israel was determined to proceed with an attack it would
consult with the US so that a certain area in Iraq would be cleared of US military
presence (‘deconflicting’), to prevent any collision of forces, an idea to which
Shamir agreed. Eagleburger clarified that the US was not ready to cooperate militarily with Israel and would not transfer information on targets, or secure flight
rights over Arab countries, but was ready to vacate an agreed area in accordance
with Israel.41 This understanding would have allowed the US additional time to
exert influence on Israel to refrain in case it decided to act unilaterally.
Israel’s behavior during the Gulf War
On 18 January, at 2 a.m., sirens woke Israel’s citizens following an Iraqi missile
attack. Throughout the war, Israel was subjected to thirty-nine missiles, causing
two fatalities, plus a few hundred wounded. Most damage was done to property,
with thousands of buildings damaged. The economy was paralyzed for the duration of the war. Israel, for the first time, was at war only with a faraway country,
with which it did not share a border. It was also the first time that its population
centers were the main target of the enemy. Another first was Israel’s decision to
refrain from reacting to attacks on its soil and citizens.
Maintaining the military option
The day after the first missiles hit Israel, Prime Minister Shamir called for a
cabinet meeting, at which the IDF presented several options for military reaction. During the discussion, Arens pointed out two main constraints on any
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The post-Cold War period
Israeli military initiative: the great distance to the chosen targets and the lack of
adequate intelligence. Arens also feared that an Israeli raid without American
coordination would be risky and would increase casualties.42 As noted, no photographs were supplied by the US and the IAF did not carry out any aerial reconnaissance flights over western Iraq. Ariel Sharon suggested sending planes to
take pictures and informing the US of the mission. Shamir obtained the approval
of the cabinet for the plans to attack targets in western Iraq and to collect more
intelligence, contingent upon coordination with Washington.43 As more Scuds
fell on Israel, the pressure from the senior military echelons, particularly the air
force, on the political level to approve action in western Iraq increased.44 Dan
Shomron advocated restraint, however.45 Shamir used Shomron’s advocacy to
balance the more hawkish elements in his coalition government. However, the
main factor in deciding between Israeli action and restraint was probably the
American diplomacy.46
Looking back at the crisis, Shamir admitted in his memoirs that the decision
to refrain from action in response to Iraq’s missile attacks was the most difficult
in his life and the one most opposed to his principles and ideology.47 According
to Shamir’s analysis, Israel had three options: unilateral use of the IAF to search
for missiles and to destroy them; reliance on the US to do the job; and the preferred one of a military reaction in cooperation with the US. The US conveyed
its opposition to the first and last options. Unilateral action would have involved
the violation of Jordanian airspace. The likely Jordanian opposition could
have been easily overcome militarily, but the diplomatic significance of
Israeli–Jordanian exchanges could have brought about a breakup of the coalition. Shamir did not want to be blamed for that and for missing an opportunity to
put an end to Saddam’s regime. Moreover, Shamir’s promise to King Hussein in
January 1991 was an additional constraint on Israel’s desire for action during the
Gulf War. Finally, Shamir’s personality, which seemed averse to making bold
decisions, blended well with the policy of restraint.
The Israeli calculus of the use of force during the crisis was influenced primarily by two main factors: the way the Americans dealt with the Iraqi threat
and the extent of the threat for Israel.48 Although there was dissatisfaction with
the way in which the coalition dealt with the missile threat, the Israelis were
pleased to see the Iraqi army quashed. Moreover, despite the political and strategic inconvenience of not reacting to missile attacks, the limited number of
casualties did not constitute enough of an incentive to order a high-risk punitive
mission to Iraq. Shamir did not see even the possibility of attacks with chemical
warheads as an existential threat, although, as was conveyed to the Americans, it
would have triggered an Israeli military response.49 The military risks also dissuaded the Israelis from retaliation.
Nevertheless, Israel was very close to retaliation. Arens approached Washington for satellite pictures of western Iraq, as well as to arrange an air corridor
above Saudi Arabia. While his wishes were not granted, by 1 February, the IDF
had prepared a plan for an air and commando raid in western Iraq, commencing
the training of several units for this particular mission. On several occasions,
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79
Israeli pilots sat in their cockpits on the runways waiting for a ‘green light’ from
the political level, which failed to come.
Technical problems also delayed the decision to act. For example, at one
cabinet meeting Maj. Gen. Avihu Bin-Nun, Chief of the IAF, reported that
weather conditions in western Iraq did not permit the use of the IAF for at least
two to three days.50 In mid-February, Arens made further inquiries with the
intelligence as to the likely Jordanian response to the use of its airspace by
Israeli jetfighters and was told that the Jordanians would definitely try to intercept them. The IDF intelligence officers also discouraged Arens from the idea of
testing the Jordanians by sending an airplane or a helicopter. However, Arens
believed that, at that stage in the war, King Hussein had become more reluctant
to identify Jordan as an Iraqi ally and would tolerate Israeli activity in its skies.51
The IAF submitted to Arens on 26 February an acceptable profile of a test flight
over Jordanian airspace, but Shamir refused to approve it because he thought the
war would soon be over and such a flight would only create unnecessary risks.
Arens tried again the following day with Shamir, this time successfully. He also
contacted Cheney to secure US approval for a larger raid, but was told that such
a matter had to be discussed at the highest level, between the President and the
Prime Minister. The planned flight was delayed by weather conditions and on
28 February the war ended, without any action, which struck Arens as a terrible
blow for Israel’s deterrence.52 It is quite possible that, had the war continued for
a few days longer, resulting in a higher casualty count of Israelis, we might have
seen Israeli soldiers hunting missile launchers in Iraq. Actually, on counterfactual inquiry, had events developed slightly differently, Israeli lack of retaliation
strikes was still not a foregone conclusion.53 In other words, pure luck played an
important role in Israeli restraint.54
The US and Israel
Throughout the war, the US used the ‘secure line’ to provide Israel with
information about incoming missiles, as its satellite picked up the Iraqi launches.
This prompted Israel to activate its civil warning system, which allowed Israel’s
citizens a few minutes to prepare for the worst. Immediately after the first
missile attack, Arens conveyed to Baker, as well as to Cheney, Israel’s desire to
react militarily. In his autobiography, Arens quotes his words to Baker: ‘We
don’t have a choice . . . they have hit us. We have to hit them back. Israel can’t
sit here and be hit with missiles and do nothing.’55 On the same day, Shamir cautioned Baker in a similar vein: ‘This is a terrible problem for us, which we have
to face up to . . . Israel has never failed to respond.’56
After the war started, the US decision-making process operated under the
assumption that Israeli restraint was reversible. Indeed, ‘there were few things
the President and his top aides worried about more’ than the problem of keeping
Israel out of the war.57 Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Colin
Powell referred to the issue as ‘the supersensitive need to keep Israel out of the
fight’.58 Yet, the US had reason to believe that Israel would hesitate to retaliate.
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The post-Cold War period
According to Baker’s memoirs, he evaluated that Israel would have insurmountable difficulties in acting without the coalition forces ‘deconflicting’, i.e., halting
flying missions in a certain area, thus allowing Israel a corridor for its airplanes.
Alternatively, Israel could act if it acquired from the US the electronic identification codes of the coalition warplanes, to prevent inadvertent clashes between
Israeli and coalition pilots. The US had no intention of doing either.59 The US
refused also to comply with Israel’s demands for an electronic downlink to US
intelligence satellites (to have real-time information on Iraqi deployments), a
direct communications channel to General Norman Schwartzkopf’s headquarters
or a liaison officer dispatched to the Central Command staff.
The general feeling that Israel was not treated as an ally and that the US was
not sensitive enough to its security needs was reinforced during the war.60 Arens,
when briefed by the US at the beginning of the war, was not convinced of the
seriousness of the American efforts in dealing with the Scud missiles. He came
to the conclusion that the US would definitely fail to meet the challenge in
twenty-four hours as promised. Senior IDF officers complained that the US gave
only sketchy information about its anti-Scud activities in western Iraq and
refused to detail the ways of its operational aspects.61 During the war, Lt. Gen.
Shomron expressed disappointment at the American achievements in this area.62
Maj. Gen. Bin-Nun was less diplomatic when he said that the US did not even
try to stop the launching of Scuds toward Israel and claimed that his forces could
have done a much better job of disabling the Scuds.63
After being attacked by missiles armed with conventional warheads there was
growing concern in Jerusalem that Iraq might use chemical warheads as well.
The Iraqi threat to use ‘as yet unused weapons’ increased the Israeli threat perception. The remark made by John Sununu, Chief of Staff at the White House,
that such a contingency would not necessarily lead to nuclear retaliation was not
well received in Jerusalem. Arens called Cheney and lodged a complaint.64
Moreover, the US rejected the initial Israeli plea for emergency assistance in
loans and grants presented by Arens to Baker in the course of their 11 February
meeting. Washington believed that it was doing Israel a favor by destroying the
Iraqi army and that Israel should therefore not be compensated for its restraint.
Nevertheless, Washington tried to impress Israel with its awareness of its
dilemma and communicated much sympathy and appreciation for the Israeli
stand. US-manned batteries of Patriot surface-to-air missiles were deployed in
Israel, following Arens’ request, in the false belief of the Americans and the
Israelis that the Patriot missiles had a limited capability to intercept missiles
(they failed to intercept even one Scud missile). The US also decided to send
Eagleburger once again to calm the Israelis; to convey agreement to increase the
combat sorties to western Iraq against the Scuds; to approve limited operations
by its special forces; to supply Israel with more intelligence information; and to
allow Israeli intelligence officers to assist American officers with target identification.65 The Administration upgraded the intelligence sharing and was willing
to incorporate Israeli suggestions for targeting. The quiet cooperation in the area
of intelligence also allowed Israel to feel it had made a contribution to the war
Israel and the Gulf War
81
effort.66 Dick Cheney even tried to bolster the Israeli faltering deterrence. On
2 February, in response to a planted question at a press conference about Israeli
possible response to Iraqi chemical attacks, he did not rule out an Israeli nuclear
response, hoping such a statement would enhance Israeli deterrence.
The attempt to make American measures conditional on Jerusalem’s restraint
met with Israeli resistance and eventually the US understood that American
unconditional support measures helped Shamir resist his hawkish colleagues’
pressure to retaliate.67 Indeed, cabinet members such as Ariel Sharon, Yitzhak
Modai and Rafael Eitan believed that Israel needed no coordination with the US.
Announcing Israel’s resolution to act would force the US de facto to create
deconflicting. Arens was also surprised at Shamir’s great reluctance to order an
attack and to risk a confrontation with the Americans.68 Yet, even Shamir’s
patience eventually ended and only a call from the President brought about the
order to delay attack. Indeed, the constant American diplomatic contacts and
pressure were effective.
Shamir was able to give in to American pressure also because the Israelis
generally supported the policy of restraint of their government. In fact, about 94
percent of the public felt that the government was handling the security situation
either ‘well’ or ‘very well’.69 Even groups like ‘Peace Now’, as well as leftist
intellectuals, who were usually critical of the government policies, issued calls
to peace movements throughout the world to support Israel during the crisis.70
This occurrence is in accordance with the findings of sociologists of war, such as
George Simmel, who claim that external threat produces consensus.71
Another reason for Shamir’s behavior was the international sympathy poured
on Israel and its government. There were even examples of substantive benefits
for Israel. Germany decided to give Israel large-scale aid, including the building
of two submarines, whose procurement had been previously canceled for lack of
funds. Germany also paid for one Patriot battery. Economic sanctions imposed
by the European Union (EU) were also removed. Because he was seen as intransigent on the peace process, Shamir wished to enhance Israel’s image abroad
and improve relations particularly with the American administration, hoping that
Israel would be owed something for its forbearance. Basically, the Israeli
government tried to make the best of a very awkward situation.
Strategic implications for Israel
While the strategic significance of the 1991 Gulf War for Israel was greatly
exaggerated,72 it highlighted several components in Israel’s strategic environment of the 1990s.73
The 1990 to 1991 crisis demonstrated once more the importance of systemic
factors for the regional balance of power. The loosening of bipolarity in the
international system, which was heralded in many quarters as the beginning of a
new, more peaceful world order, had mixed effects on the Middle East. Unlike
the European subsystem, this region had never been under rigid bipolar control
by the two superpowers. The Soviet decline by 1990 further decreased
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The post-Cold War period
Moscow’s ability to constrain its Arab allies, thereby allowing countries like
Syria and Iraq greater freedom of action. One factor accounting for the timing of
the Iraqi military action in Kuwait was Gorbachev’s reluctance to be drawn into
Middle Eastern affairs.74 Another systemic factor explaining the Iraqi move was
the deterioration in the local balance of power in the Gulf. In the aftermath of
the long Iran–Iraq War (1980–88), a weakened Iran was no longer capable of
deterring an Iraqi conquest of Kuwait.
The Gulf War was an additional reminder to Arab elites that Israel was not
necessarily the most dangerous enemy in the region. Moreover, it was a vivid
example of a situation in which several Arab countries were de facto allied with
Israel, this time against the hegemonic aspirations from Baghdad. Earlier, in the
1980s, the radical Islamic fervor from Tehran was seen in most Arab capitals as
a dangerous development of greater security risk than the existence of Israel.
Jerusalem shared the threat perception of the secular Arab elites. This perception
of occasionally being in the same strategic boat is one component in the gradual
acceptance of Israel as a fait accompli in the region.75 This is one of the factors
that facilitated the convening of the October 1991 Madrid Peace Conference. At
this conference, for the first time, the majority of the Arab states, including
Saudi Arabia and the Gulf sheikhdoms, were ready to participate in bilateral
and/or multilateral dealings with Israel.
Indeed, the Gulf crisis showed once again that the Arab–Israeli conflict was
just one among many in the conflict-ridden Middle East and that the Palestinian
issue was not the most threatening to regional stability. Moreover, it indicated
that the use of force was part and parcel of the Middle Eastern rules of the game.
It also vividly demonstrated the dangers of the spread of weapons of mass
destruction in the Middle East, which constituted an existential threat for Israel.
The seizure of Kuwait by Iraq and the subsequent events served as a test to
US–Israeli relations. It showed the possible divergence of interests and questioned the assumption of Israel being a strategic asset in a changed international
system. While the utility of allies in a unipolar world has declined somewhat, we
know, in retrospect, that bilateral relations remained very strong.
For Israel, the Gulf War constituted a painful reminder of the limitations to
the freedom of action of small states in the international arena. Even if they have
the capacity to act, as Israel did in the winter of 1991, quite often they must take
into consideration the wishes of the great powers. This is particularly true in a
situation where there is only one hegemonic power in the international system,
which further curtails the freedom of action of small states.
The Gulf War was an additional reminder of the limitations of the Israeli
intelligence apparatus and the possibility of a strategic surprise. Despite the fact
that Israel’s security establishment and its right-wing government had no illusions as to the aggressive nature of Saddam Hussein’s regime, the move to take
Kuwait surprised Jerusalem. The large investments in intelligence in place since
the 1973 October War still did not prevent Israel from being caught by surprise.
US Secretary of State James Baker wrote in his memoirs that even the Israelis
believed that Saddam’s threats and military concentrations along the Kuwaiti
Israel and the Gulf War
83
border were designed only to secure economic concessions from the Kuwaitis.76
Moreover, Israel was surprised that Saddam was serious about hitting Israeli
targets. Israel’s intelligence service, the Mossad, told US intelligence counterparts that Saddam’s rhetoric was designed to deter an Israeli attack, not to
threaten one of his own.77 Likewise, the Iraqi nuclear progress was unforeseen in
Jerusalem.78
The crisis in the Gulf was a sobering experience for the supporters of the idea
that ‘Jordan is Palestine’, which was held by several people in key positions in
Israel, including Ariel Sharon. According to this concept, Jordan, whose majority was of Palestinian origin, should be turned into a Palestinian state. Enthroning Yasser Arafat, instead of Hashemite Hussein in Jordan, would in turn relieve
much of the pressure from Israel to solve the Palestinian problem. The apprehension during the crisis about the weakness of the Hashemite regime taught the
Israelis the importance of having a friendly buffer state to the east. It was widely
recognized that Jordan’s territory became Israel’s strategic depth.
The war renewed the Jordanian–Israeli understandings of mutual interest.
Moreover, several months after the war ended Shamir made a point of impressing upon Baker the need for the generous support of the Hashemite Kingdom
because of its importance for regional stability, despite King Hussein’s alignment with Saddam during the war.79 This eventually facilitated the signing of the
October 1994 peace treaty between Jerusalem and Amman.
Many concluded that the Gulf War with its display of technological superiority was a good omen for Israel. They argued that Israel’s highly advanced military force has a better chance to deter and/or overcome an Arab conventional
onslaught. The so-called ‘Revolution in Military Affairs’ (RMA) was seen as
assuring Israel’s military superiority, justifying a lower Israeli threat perception.
However, Israelis were usually more cautious in learning such a lesson. Their
view of the RMA was more conservative. Israel has for years emphasized the
importance of airpower and smart weapons, and has developed an evolutionary
approach to strategy and tactics. Moreover, Israel realized that its military
arsenal was severely limited in size in comparison to the coalition’s. Furthermore, Israel will probably not have at its disposal the time the allies had to
operate freely in Iraq. Israeli strategists have been for years sensitized to the
‘political clock’ involved in military operation, which meant that their expectation was that there would be international pressure to stop their activities,
particularly if they were on the winning side.
The Gulf War was a severe test to Israeli deterrence and it was only partially
successful. While Israel seemed to deter an Iraqi missile attack armed with chemical weapons, it failed regarding conventional attacks on its population centers.
Iraqi behavior demonstrated that, under certain – not necessarily unique –
circumstances, Israeli threats might be ineffective.80
Surprisingly, the missile attacks are not universally accepted as a deterrence
failure, although they were preceded by a series of explicit Israeli threats to
retaliate against Iraq if the latter attacked Israel.81 The deterrence failure was
amplified by the Arab expectations that Israel would respond. According to
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The post-Cold War period
General Schwartzkopf, King Fahd of Saudi Arabia in a conversation with Baker
in November 1990 said, ‘he could not expect Israel to stand idly if attacked’.82
Baker said in return, ‘I had been able to secure agreements from all our Arab
coalition partners that if Saddam attacked Israel first, and Israel struck back, they
would remain firm.’83 President Hosni Mubarak of Egypt and President Hafiz
al-Assad of Syria made similar statements. Ex post facto the Israeli decision to
refrain from a military response received different interpretations in the Arab
world. One major view was that Israel was weak militarily and/or its freedom of
action was seriously hampered by American pressure.84 Such a view could
hardly reinforce Israeli deterrence.
The Iraqi missile attacks (with conventional warheads) resulted in only
minimal casualties, but the economic damage was considerable as the country
was paralyzed for several weeks. The Arabs observed that long-range surface-tosurface missiles (SSMs), such as the Scuds fired on Israel, were very useful
politically and that their operation was not dependent upon having a modern
military force. Even militarily strong countries such as Israel were vulnerable.
Moreover, the allied air campaign to suppress Iraqi launches of Scud missiles
against Israel, Saudi Arabia and other Persian Gulf nations during Desert Storm
ran into many problems. While the launch rates generally declined over the
course of the Gulf War, the intense efforts to find and destroy the missiles,
particularly the mobile launchers, seem to have been unsuccessful, since they
remained remarkably elusive and survivable.85 The trend of acquiring SSMs by
the Middle Eastern armies has indeed accelerated since the Gulf War.
The Israeli vulnerability was very obvious as thousands of Tel Aviv residents
chose to move away to more peripheral areas of the country. The mayor of Tel
Aviv at that time, Maj. Gen. (ret.) Shlomo Lahat, attacked them publicly and
called them ‘deserters’. This display of weakness led Israeli leaders, such as
Yitzhak Rabin, to believe that there was great urgency in reaching peace with
Israel’s neighbors even with greater concessions than had been planned.86
Conclusion
The 1991 Gulf War was a reminder of the vicissitudes of Middle Eastern politics, the vulnerability of Israel to missile attacks and the limits of Israeli military
power and freedom of action. Israel’s rational choice to act with much restraint
during the war was mainly the product of auspicious coincidence and much
luck. Following the war there were hopes, in Israel and elsewhere, for a new
order in the Middle East, which, years later, we can testify as having remained
unfulfilled. While the Gulf War was indeed an important event in international
relations in the Middle East, the US failed to impose a Pax Americana on the
region for a variety of reasons, which are beyond the scope of this chapter. The
Middle East remained a tough neighborhood.
6
Contours of Israel’s new
strategic thinking
As Kenneth Waltz put it, states operate in a ‘self-help’ system in which threats
to national security are omnipresent. Small states, in particular, have difficulties
meeting challenges from powerful aggressors, since such states are by definition
limited in their ability to build sizable and well-equipped military machines.1
Generally, small states have little leeway; their military and diplomatic margins
are thin.
A few small states reconcile themselves to ‘defensive nihilism’, the abandonment of hope to establish an effective defense.2 A few others, such as Switzerland and Sweden, adopt postures of self-reliance, attempting to meet security
challenges without outside help. This is also known as internal balancing; it
describes the way a state aggregates power. Other small states augment their
military capability by allying themselves with other countries. The mobilization
of other countries’ resources in confronting external threats is termed external
balancing.3 Alliances, however, can constrain a state’s freedom of action. In
many cases, a small state’s room for maneuver is also constricted by the prevailing structure of the international system and its regional subsystem. Most small
states attempt to devise strategic doctrines based on a mix of external and
internal balancing in order to maximize military power and the freedom to use it.
Israel is an example of such a small state. This chapter analyzes the ways in
which the international and regional environments, and internal developments
within Israel, have influenced Israel’s recent strategic thinking. Yossi Sarid, a
left-wing Meretz party cabinet member (an ex-Labourite) in the present Labourled government, described Yitzhak Rabin’s government as the most ‘Sharetist’
in Israel’s history.4 In Israeli political parlance this means that it had a most
dovish orientation. Indeed, we see a redefined and reduced threat perception,
change of emphasis in the concept of national power, a greater reluctance to use
force, and an erosion in the centrality of the concept of self-reliance.
Israel’s traditional national security concept5
Since Israel’s establishment, its leaders felt that their country faced an existential
threat from the Arab states’ desire to eradicate the Jewish state. They similarly
understood that military power was critical to the country’s ability to survive,
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The post-Cold War period
and as a result Israel invested heavily in developing a strong military machine.
Realizing that it was a small state surrounded by numerous Arab countries, the
help of extra-regional powers has also been sought to offset asymmetries in
resources with the Arab world.
David Ben-Gurion, Israel’s first prime minister, knew that building a militarily strong country was extremely important to survive in the Middle East: ‘Israel
stood up by its own strength and will stand firm only if it trusts first and foremost in itself as a power of growing greatness.’6 Furthermore, he felt that allies
cannot be totally relied upon, which led to a great emphasis on self-reliance.
This concept meant two things: the freedom to act when challenged and the military ability to do so effectively. Although cognizant of the limitations inherent
in a small state predicament, Israel hoped to achieve a capacity to respond unilaterally to any emerging security challenges and to establish a deterrent power.
Israel’s goal was ‘independence’ in what Shimon Peres called in 1975 ‘uniquely
decisive situations’.7
In the past, Israel’s political elite displayed skepticism about the benign
nature of international relations. Many of its political leaders believed that the
Jews faced a world of hostile and/or untrustworthy gentiles. The Jewish historic
experience of previous centuries and the Holocaust perpetrated in this century
reinforced a realpolitik outlook and amplified the sense of insecurity and isolation of many Israelis.8 Conflict with the Arab world only strengthened Israel’s
perception of insecurity.
Precisely because of this sense of insecurity and isolation, Israel was always
preoccupied with securing a patron among the major international powers.9
Alliances with great powers were perceived by the Israeli leadership as an
important element in securing political and economic support, and, above all, in
securing access to modern weaponry. It was felt that alignment with a major
power would improve Israel’s capacity for action through external balancing and
would also provide some measure of extended deterrence, a commitment to
defend another party. The help of a world power – the United States – was
sought since the 1950s to neutralize perceived threats from the Soviet Union and
to increase Israel’s potential for action against regional Soviet allies.
In its early years, Israel adopted a policy of non-alignment; it avoided taking
sides in the global conflict between the United States and the Soviet Union.10
Later in the 1950s, Israel gradually came to the conclusion that an alliance with
the Western powers would be useful in contending with the hostile Arab world.
But Israel was denied access to the treaties established by the West in the
Middle East, and NATO also declined to accept it.11 Israel’s enthusiasm for a
formal alliance evaporated as it realized that an alliance could curb its freedom
of action. It settled for access to weaponry from European powers, France in
particular. Yet before 1967, as later on, Israel was willing to trade some of its
freedom of action for nurturing good relations with potential weapon suppliers
in order to enhance its military capacity.
After 1967, proposals for an American–Israeli Defense Treaty were usually
conditional on full Israeli withdrawal from the territories captured in the Six Day
Contours of Israel’s new strategic thinking
87
War, a condition not well received in Israel.12 After 1973, at a time when its
security challenges escalated sharply, Israel found itself greatly isolated in world
politics. Then Israeli leaders invested even greater effort in maintaining good
relations with the United States.13 In the early 1980s, the two countries came
very close to formalizing a strategic partnership in response to fears of Soviet
expansionism and influence. But as broad and deep strategic cooperation
became closer in the late 1980s and early 1990s, both sides refrained from aspiring to a formal alliance. At the same time, Israel always emphasized that it did
not expect others to fight its battles or to participate directly in its defense. This
was helpful in asking for Western assistance with no diplomatic strings attached.
In orienting Israel in this manner, its leaders aspired to increase their freedom of
action.
Israeli strategists knew that the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) must plan for
quick wars because of asymmetries between Israel and Arab states. This could
be achieved with offensive operations. Offensive tactics helped avoid a situation
that might compel Israel to deal with two or more fronts simultaneously. Offensive, surprise operations also enhanced Israel’s freedom of action by allowing
Israel to choose a convenient diplomatic moment, while minimizing the chances
for effective outside intervention on the part of Arab expeditionary forces or the
superpowers. Furthermore, when on attack, the IDF could better utilize its
qualitative edge in manpower and in tactics against the Arab armies. Offensive
operations were also believed to be less costly in terms of casualties.
Israeli strategic thinking also required building a military force that would
enable it to stand alone versus regional threats. After the 1973 War, Israel
greatly expanded the IDF and increased its stocks of military equipment to minimize the need for extra-regional support and to exclude outside intervention.14
Israel also developed a sizable military industry. The main motivation behind
the large defense industry was the fear that weapons needed for Israel’s security
could become unavailable, for political reasons, on the world market. Israel
sought and established an ability to produce a main battle platform for each
branch of the IDF – air, ground and naval. Israel began production of the Kfir
fighter following the French embargo in 1967. The British refusal to sell Chieftain tanks led Israel to build the Merkava tank. Similarly, the difficulties purchasing fast patrol boats in the 1960s resulted in indigenous production of Saar
class missile boats.
Following the 1973 War, however, the dream of weapon self-sufficiency
faded away as the IDF’s needs increased drastically, and Israel’s military, economic and diplomatic dependence upon the United States grew. Nevertheless,
the military industries expanded and developed maintenance and repair services
to reduce the dependence upon foreign arms suppliers. Israel’s industries also
produced many military products and adapted imported weapons to the specific
needs of the IDF, which thereby acquired a technological edge over its regional
opponents.
The development of an infrastructure to produce modern weaponry included
the Israeli nuclear option. The Israeli nuclear program, started in the late 1950s,
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The post-Cold War period
was also motivated by existential fears and by the assessment that in the event of
military defeat in a conventional war, little help was to be expected from
friendly governments. The nuclear option was perceived as an insurance policy
in case Israel lost its conventional defense capacity or if Arab countries acquired
nuclear weapons. Israel, therefore, refused to join the Nonproliferation Treaty of
Nuclear Weapons (NPT), but has maintained since 1965 that it will not be the
first to introduce nuclear weapons into the region, a somewhat ambiguous statement. Israel’s policy of opaqueness in nuclear matters was also useful in facilitating access to conventional hardware.15 Israel’s nuclear program, more than
other efforts in the security sphere, embodies Israel’s preference to maximize
power and freedom of action.
A new Israeli strategic outlook
Recent developments in Israel’s environment – global realignment, the Middle
East peace process, as well as changes within Israel – have led to the emergence
of a new strategic thinking. The departure from past thinking started in the
1980s. Its present prevalence is linked to Labour’s return to power and to the
dominance of its dovish wing’s thinking.16 Four key features characterize this
transformation: new perceptions among Israeli leadership regarding the international and regional systems; a re-evaluation of the nature of national power; a
greater aversion on the part of the Israeli leadership to use force; and a deprioritizing of the concept of self-reliance.
New perceptions of the external environment
The collapse of the Soviet Empire is seen by the Israeli leadership as creating a
new international atmosphere and is often credited for opening the door to
Mideast peacemaking. Israel’s adversaries lost their Soviet umbrella, a
politico–military relationship that was an important factor in the Arab ability to
confront Israel.
Even the late prime minister and defense minister Yitzhak Rabin, known for
his realpolitik approach to regional and world politics, came to believe that a
‘new world’ was emerging. Rabin, as well as his deputy in the Defense Ministry,
Mordechai Gur, identified another important international event as having positive security results for Israel – the defeat of Iraq by an American-led international coalition.17
These developments seem to have led to the Arab–Israeli negotiations
following the 1991 Madrid Conference, the September 1993 Israel–PLO accord
and the October 1994 Peace Treaty with Jordan. The 1979 Peace Treaty with
Egypt added to these events indicated to many Israeli leaders that an historic
process of Arab acceptance of Israel was underway. This process has significantly reduced the military threat emanating from Egypt, the largest Arab state,
and has further diminished the likelihood of a hostile coalition coalescing on
Israel’s eastern border. Indeed, Rabin concluded his overall assessment of the
Contours of Israel’s new strategic thinking
89
regional environment in 1992 with: ‘We live today in a period in which the
threat to the very existence of Israel has been reduced.’18
The most optimistic within the Israeli political leadership was Foreign Minister Shimon Peres, who became prime minister after Rabin’s assassination. He
believes that the Middle East is very close to peace and prosperity and heralded
the birth of a new Middle East. ‘Instead of visions of blood and tears, there will
rise visions of happiness and beauty, life and peace’, he wrote recently.19
Nowadays, fewer Israeli leaders share the basic sense of insecurity felt by
most Israeli leaders of the past, which was partly rooted in a Jewish perspective
of world affairs. The cultural baggage of most Israeli-born politicians, unless
exposed to traditional education, is usually poorer in Jewish content than their
predecessors who were born abroad. They are, therefore, less likely to be influenced by the Jewish psycho-cultural dimension. Actually, this Jewish prism has
been increasingly attacked by some, primarily on the Left, as a negative Jewish
and Diaspora heritage and a hang-up that Israelis must shed. For example, Ezer
Weizman, Israel’s President, regards Israeli fears as a ‘ghetto mentality’, which
hinders the peace process.20 In his opinion, Israel has never been as secure as it
was in the 1990s.21
Rabin also noted that attitudes toward the Jewish state have changed and
abandoned the traditional fear and suspicion of the gentile world. ‘Israel is no
longer “a people that dwells alone” . . . and has to join the global journey toward
peace, reconciliation and international cooperation’.22 Rabin even lectured the
IDF’s highest echelons about his conviction that Israel must adapt to changing
realities:
The world is no longer against us . . . States which never stretched their hand
out to us, states which condemned us, which fought us, which assisted our
bitterest enemies . . . regard us today as a worthy and respectable address . . . .
This is a new reality . . . . Peace requires a world of new concepts.23
Threat perception is particularly low in dovish circles, which are more prominent in the Labour-led government which has been in power since 1992. For
example, Minister Yossi Beilin even believes that Israel can now afford to concentrate on domestic problems, because the Arab–Israeli conflict is reaching an end.24
The global and regional developments were seen as providing a window of
opportunity to create a much safer environment for Israel. This new, Americanimported term in Israeli political language implied that there was a certain
urgency in taking advantage of the propitious conditions, otherwise the window
might close. Indeed, the attainment of comprehensive peace – an end to the
Arab–Israeli armed conflict – was regarded by the Labour government to be
within reach, and it was therefore worthwhile to take risks. Rabin asked the
Golan settlers from the Knesset rostrum, ‘Shouldn’t we try to make an effort to
reach peace? Reject out of hand the possibility of putting an end to all wars?’25
This rhetorical question, more than any other quotation, depicts the change in
Rabin’s perceptions of the external environment.
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The post-Cold War period
Yet, despite Rabin’s overall assessment that the probability of war is low for
the near future and that the existential threat has been reduced, he believed that
Israel continues to face serious military challenges. The nature of the threats and
the sources changed, however. According to Rabin, the peace process only influenced the probability of the use of force, not the Arab capability to harm Israel,
which has actually been augmented.26 Because of missiles, chemical and biological weapons, and because of efforts in the region to acquire nuclear weapons,
Rabin warned that a future war could entail a large number of Israeli civilian
casualties.27 Similarly threatening is the fear of a surge in the power of Islamic
radicalism.28 The radical Muslims could take over Arab countries and engage in
terror, which could become an increasingly politically difficult problem for the
Labour-led government. Foreign Minister Peres has also identified the main
threats to Israel as coming from a combination of nuclear weapons and extremist
Islam.29 Therefore, the major enemy of the Rabin government became Islamic
Iran, which sponsored subversion and terror and was engaged in acquiring a
nuclear option.
Yet the threats are perceived as having a redeeming value: they are beneficial
to the peace process because Arab secular elites share Israeli apprehensions
about the Islamic fundamentalist groups’ challenge to the stability of Arab
regimes and the emergence of an Iranian nuclear arsenal.30 Furthermore, the
peace process and its expected political and economic offshoots have been
regarded by Rabin and others as a panacea for healing most regional problems.31
Peres believes that the peace accords ‘will lay the groundwork for the superstructure that will provide security for all people and all nations of the Middle
East’.32 His protégé, Yossi Beilin, shares such a view and points out that only
hastening the peace process could have a positive effect on the struggle against
terror.33
The general feeling of the current Israeli leadership is that the main threats
are concentrated in the more distant countries, while relations with Israel’s Arab
neighbors are improving. In short, the Labour-led government perceives the
peace process as an important window of opportunity to prevent a war with
Israel’s immediate neighbors, but also as a way of contributing to a regional
atmosphere more suited to neutralization of long-range missiles and nonconventional weapons.
The optimism about the prospects of peace and stability in the Middle East are
connected to the assessment of a benign international environment. With the
Soviet Union no longer around, the need for a world power ally to counter Soviet
presence in the region has dissipated. Rabin believed that as long as Israel negotiates in good faith with the Arabs and displays a willingness to compromise and to
accept risks in the peace process, American general support is secure. Furthermore, the looming threat to the West of Islamic radicalism was considered by
many in the Israeli political elite as a cementing factor in the American–Israeli
alliance. In contrast to the past, Israel no longer feels isolated, which has always
been a burden for its extra-regional patron. Actually, many new and older countries regard Israel as a good conduit to improving relations with the world
Contours of Israel’s new strategic thinking
91
hegemon – the United States. Therefore, the general feeling among Israeli
decision-makers in the mid-1990s has been that the American–Israeli relationship
is on a stable course. This is in contrast to the fears of abandonment characteristic
of Israeli–great power relations in the past.
A re-evaluation of the nature of national power
Along with these new perceptions of the global and Middle East environments,
Labour leaders appear to have developed an altered concept of national power
and security. Peres has actually belittled the importance of military prowess. In a
speech to a group of scientists in 1989, he claimed that it is not the size or the
strength of its army that determines a country’s power, but rather its scientific
and technological achievements, stressing that in the present world, economy is
more important than strategy.34 At the end of that year, in reaction to the developments in Eastern Europe, Peres was more explicit about the depreciation of
military power. He observed that weapons had become so expensive that their
purchase could be economically destructive, while those things that are truly
important cannot be attained through military force.35 His book, which analyzes
the prospects for the emergence of a new Middle East, regards war as futile and
obsolete and questions the advantage of tanks, cannons and jets ‘in the face of
nuclear, chemical and biological warfare’.36 For him, these challenges to security must be met with political answers: the peace process, rather than military
means.37
Changes in Rabin’s thinking were more recent, but even more striking. In his
first address to the Knesset as Prime Minister, he said that security is not only
embodied in the number of tanks, airplanes and missile boats, but that ‘Security
is also, and may be first-of-all the human being: the Israeli citizen, . . . his education, his home, his school, his street, his neighbourhood, the society in which he
grows’.38 In his mid-term report, published in June 1994, Rabin, like Peres,
underscored the importance of economic factors: ‘Steps toward a rapprochement
between Israel and the Arab states create a process that turns economics into the
moving force that shapes the regional relations instead of nationalist interests
that were dominant in the past.’39 Addressing the dangerous Islamic threat,
Rabin pointed out ‘that practically the only way to dry the swamp of radical
Islam is through economic development and an improved standard of living’.40
The emphasis on the importance of economic factors in dealing with national
security problems is the result of two intellectual influences – socialism and liberalism. The current Israeli leadership, Peres in particular, has socialist ideological baggage, which is gradually replaced or complemented by liberal ideas
coming from the United States. Both ideologies attach great importance to the
economic dimension in the international equation.41
Technology was always regarded by the Israeli political elite as an important
component in national power, and the IDF has always aspired to a high-tech
edge over its rivals. The American use of smart weapons during the second Gulf
War in 1991 left a strong impression on Israel as well as on others. As a result,
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The post-Cold War period
the Israeli high regard for smart weapons and technologically advanced support
systems has intensified.42
For many, modern military technology diminished the strategic value of land.
Peres voiced the standard dovish argument against holding on to territories:
physical barriers are no longer significant when missiles fly.43 This was in sharp
contrast to his and others’ views in the past. After 1967, secure or defensible
borders became the goal of Israel’s foreign policy, while after 1973 there was a
willingness to experiment with buffer and demilitarized zones in the Sinai.44 The
Camp David accord with Egypt of 1978 deviated from this thinking as it stipulated Israeli withdrawal to the international border, with the Sinai Peninsula
practically demilitarized. At that time, almost a quarter of the Labour contingent
to the Knesset refrained from supporting the agreement because it did not insist
on defensible borders. Nowadays, among the Labour Knesset members there is
only limited opposition to the Rabin government’s intent to fully withdraw from
the Golan Heights, despite the party’s promise before the 1992 elections to
maintain an Israeli presence there. Gur implied in the Knesset that the government was considering giving up the entire Golan and pointed out that the key to
winning a war was military technology, not territory. Furthermore, he quoted
approvingly Sadat’s comments about the irrelevance of defensible borders.45
Beilin, a Labourite, also deviated from his party platform and demanded that the
Jordan River no longer be considered Israel’s eastern security border.46
According to the new prevalent thinking, strategic depth and defensible
borders – articles of faith in the past – are a strategic anachronism. The notion of
defensible borders, which in the past emphasized topography and geography,
has acquired a new meaning. Nowadays its main elements are political. It is
argued that only those borders that are mutually agreed upon by Israelis and
Arabs are secure. Arab acquiescence is therefore more important than the military potential of a particular line drawn on a map. This perspective is found in
Gur’s faith in the durability of an agreement with Syria, which implies territorial
withdrawal because it will be acceptable to Damascus.47 Similarly, Peres downplayed the importance of strategic depth. At least part of the current military
elite seems to go along with the political leadership’s emphasis on political components in drawing borders. In the opinion of the Chief of Staff Lt. Gen. Amnon
Shahak, a Syrian embassy in Israel is more important than an early warning
station,48 while Maj. Gen. Zeev Livneh stated that ‘peace is the best security’.49
A corollary development is an erosion in the belief that settlements can
provide security functions. Rabin once distinguished between security and political settlements. Settlements located on possible invasion routes along the
border belonged to the first category. In accordance with Israel’s traditional
security thinking, they were incorporated into the ‘territorial defense’, which
was geared to slow the advancement of enemy forces and to substitute for a lack
of strategic depth. More recently, however, Rabin announced that peace with
Syria would provide more security than a few settlements on the Golan
Heights.50 His statement expressed the view of most of his cabinet members.
The devaluation of the security contribution of settlements is also connected to
Contours of Israel’s new strategic thinking
93
an erosion in the Israeli attachment to the Land of Israel. The younger generation of Israeli leaders was socialized into the notion of the State of Israel, rather
than the Land of Israel; and the Zionist ethos of settling in the ancient homeland
is no longer as strongly adhered to as before.51
The new emphasis on the importance of economic and technological factors
in the evaluation of national power leads to a reassessment of Israel’s might and
the balance of power with its neighbors. Israeli technological superiority in the
Middle East and the fact that its GNP is larger than all of its immediate Arab
neighbors combined undermined the traditional assumption regarding Israel’s
inferiority in resources with the Arab foes. Such an analysis reinforces the
reduction in threat perception.
Aversion to use of force
In addition to the depreciation of the importance of military power, one can
discern a clear trend among Israeli leaders toward a greater reluctance to use
force. Early signs appeared following the 1973 War and became more pronounced after the 1982 War in Lebanon. Widespread reluctance among the
current Israeli political leadership to approve of pre-emptive and preventive
strikes transpires from the public debate about Israeli military involvement in
Lebanon from 1982 to 1985.52 Following the 1982 invasion, the Labour Party
included in its platform a clause requiring a large consensus if force was to be
exercised. This unprecedented stance is another indicator of a growing unwillingness among the Labour leadership to use force and an accompanying restraint
on Israel’s freedom of action.
The ill-fated Lebanese campaign also served as a clear lesson on the limits of
Israel’s military power. The Israeli army was in Beirut, but Israel could not
translate its military superiority into the achievement of political goals; peace
with Lebanon proved elusive. Similarly, the Palestinian Intifada, which started
in 1987, educated the Israeli leadership about how difficult it is to capitalize on
superior military power versus a civilian uprising. Although Israel succeeded in
persuading the PLO to accept a two-state solution and a phased settlement, the
Palestinians made progress toward establishing statehood. Israeli reluctance to
police the territories increased, as did the willingness to part with some of
the land.53
The Israeli military reaction to Palestinian violence was a conscious policy of
moderate use of force in order not to evoke too much domestic opposition, as
well as to prevent the bulk of the Arab population from feeling they had nothing
to lose.54 Yet, Labourite doves such as Uzi Baram, David Libay and Ora Namir,
all ministers in the Rabin government, criticized the Intifada policy as too harsh.
Rabin served at that time as defense minister. In January 1993, Baram even suggested taking away the rifles from the IDF soldiers before they entered refugee
camps.55
Restraint in the use of force is not a feature exclusive to Labour. During the
1990 to 1992 period, the Likud leader, Yitzhak Shamir, reigned over the most
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The post-Cold War period
right-wing government in Israeli annals. Yet, the policy toward the Intifada
remained as it was devised by Rabin, while several security challenges remained
unanswered. In October 1990 the Syrians used their air force to depose General
Michel Aoun in Lebanon, in clear violation of the ‘red lines’ between Israel and
Syria – the understandings concerning the limits on Syrian military presence and
activities in Lebanon. Even unequivocal Arab aggression against Israel’s population centers did not evoke a military response. Shamir’s government refrained
from retaliating against the 1991 Iraqi missile attacks, despite explicit threats to
do so. The international circumstances were such that they dictated great caution
and restraint.
The peace process has also constrained Israel’s freedom to use force, as
Israeli governments now have to consider the reaction of Arab moderates to any
Israeli attacks against Arab targets. The greater acceptance of Israel in the region
makes it more difficult for Israel to apply its traditional security doctrine, which
emphasizes the use of force to enhance deterrence. Specifically, there is an
inherent tension between maintaining a deterrent posture and pursuing a policy
of conciliation meant to lower tensions and facilitate peace talks.56 For example,
preparations for dealing with missile attacks from neighboring or distant countries has a threatening element. Israel, particularly under Rabin, adopted a strategy of reassurance to Arab neighbors that Israel’s intentions and desires were
peaceful, signaling that the use of diplomacy could be more productive than the
use of force.57
The Rabin government limited its response to Hizballah attacks from
Lebanon in order to minimize tensions that could interfere with the peace negotiations with Syria. In the context of the problems along Israel’s northern border,
Gur stated that ‘Israel will use all available political avenues before taking military action in order not to harm the peace process’.58 Only after many months of
restraint did the Rabin government react with massive firepower in July 1993,
following repeated Katyusha attacks on Israeli settlements along Israel’s northern border, making clear its intent to refrain from any escalation. In December
1994, Rabin criticized the new Northern Command CO, Maj. Gen. Amiram
Levin, for calling for a more offensive mindset in dealing with the increase in
Hizballah attacks in southern Lebanon.59 Moreover, IDF officers continue to
complain that the political echelon is tying their hands in their struggle with the
Hizballah.60
Limiting IDF initiative in regard to the Palestinians was also advocated by
several ministers. Communication Minister Shulamit Aloni of the left-wing
Meretz party even demanded that Israel stop hunting Hamas and PLO activists
in Israeli-ruled territories, because such searching interferes with the negotiations over the interim agreement with the Palestinians. Restraint has been most
prominent within Labour and dovish circles, where it is argued that the use of
force can arouse traditional Arab fears of Israeli aggression and expansionism.
In short, Israeli military actions have become tied to a set of political considerations more complex than those that had been prevalent in the past – when there
was a united hostile Arab front against Israel.
Contours of Israel’s new strategic thinking
95
It is not just political calculations that inhibit the use of force; social forces
are also at work. The first phenomenon is the changed status of the IDF in Israeli
society.61 The army was once a revered national institution with many auxiliary
roles. Nowadays it has lost some of its luster, and service in the IDF is no longer
considered a necessary entrance card into Israeli society. The IDF is becoming
more of a professional interest group, subject to increasing public criticism.
Debates over the IDF performance in the Lebanese campaign and the Intifada
contributed to the decline in the standing of the IDF as the embodiment of
national consensus.62 Consequently, this decline in IDF prestige has negatively
influenced the attitudes toward its modus operandi – the use of force.63
Furthermore, the public is nowadays much less tolerant of military miscalculations, which make politicians more careful in deciding on the use of force.
Although avoiding losses in battle has always been part of military planning,
there is now in Israel an unprecedented high sensitivity to casualties. Their
number has become an important criterion for judging the success of military
actions. For example, a major factor in the refusal of the political leadership to
approve military action in southern Lebanon in recent years is the fear of casualties. According to a senior officer, Rabin instructed the IDF commanders in the
north to limit activities even at the expense of achieving military goals in order
to prevent casualties.64 In addition, the new phenomenon of IDF openness to the
involvement of the conscripts’ parents in daily military routine (believed to
make transition to military life easier, as well as to provide for good public relations) is beginning to have negative effects on the operational aspects of the
army activities.65
Another constraint on using force, particularly in the territories, involves the
greater consideration given to legal factors by the political leadership. Since
1973, a complex of quasi-judicial and judicial controls gradually emerged that
limited the freedom of action of the government in the security sphere.66 Security decisions such as the rules of engagement in the territories and in southern
Lebanon are increasingly subject to legal scrutiny. Rabin often complained that
the struggle against the Intifada was hindered by the insistence of the Justice
Ministry on a proper legal basis for Israel’s military actions in the territories; his
statement that he was looking for a partner to take care of internal security in
Gaza without the High Court of Justice and human rights watchdog organizations is well known.67
The strongest social force restricting the use of force is a general fatigue due
to the protracted conflict. In recent years, Israeli society has shown signs of
becoming increasingly beleaguered, war weary, and impatient for a ‘solution’ to
the Arab–Israeli conflict. Israeli society has paid dearly in material and casualties over the course of six wars, creating a natural thirst for an end to the violence. Studies have shown that wars have a psychological toll not only on the
Israeli soldiers who participated in battle, but on their families as well. Veteran
soldiers are increasingly sensitized to the price of protracted conflict as a result
of their war experiences. Such awareness leads to a greater desire for peace.68
Another indication of conflict fatigue is the decline in the enthusiasm of Israeli
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The post-Cold War period
teenagers to serve in the IDF.69 In March 1995, the IDF released new findings
showing a gradual decline in the percentage of volunteers for combat units.70
Public polls show a consistent dovish trend over time. Concretely, it means a
greater willingness to part with the territories taken in 1967 and a somewhat
greater reluctance to use force.71 The social factor has been properly termed ‘the
forgotten dimension of strategy’.72 In many instances of protracted conflict, the
protagonists have been worn out by their dispute, and the outcome of conflict is
thus determined not only by superior military strength but also by perseverance
and ability to suffer pain.73
Fatigue from policing the territories and confronting hostile civilians played a
factor in the Israeli acceptance of the 1993 Israeli–Palestinian accord, which
entailed relinquishing control of Gaza and Jericho. Exhaustion in a protracted
conflict leads the protagonists to redefine their goals. As a result, Israeli nationalism is undergoing changes with clear foreign policy implications.74 The legitimacy of the past Israeli use of force is being questioned. The ethos of Greater
Israel has become less popular in Israel. The pioneer settlers of yesterday are
increasingly viewed by many Israelis as an obstacle to peace. The strategic
advantages of topography and settlement are currently debated more than ever
before, as are, of course, the human and economic price to keep the settlements.
Leaders such as Rabin and Gur realized that Israeli society displays signs of
fatigue and is more reluctant to pay the price for the protracted conflict with the
Arabs. Rabin compared the behavior of the Israelis when bombed from the air
by the Egyptians in 1948 to what happened during the missile attacks in 1991. In
1948, over thirty civilian casualties left no imprint on daily life in Tel Aviv,
while in 1991 the city and its suburbs were deserted by tens of thousands. His
conclusion was that Israelis lost some of their perseverance and determination.75
Lt. Gen. Ehud Barak, the former chief of staff (1991–94), often expressed
concern about Israel’s social fiber. For example, he described the changes in
Israeli society as:
accumulated weariness and cynicism, accompanied by an aggressive and
intrusive media, depreciation of the Zionist deeds, the development of a
cleavage in the consensus over Israel’s political goals, even over the objectives of the use of force (we have seen it in Lebanon and in the Intifada) – all
these create a perception, as well as reality of weakness.76
Barak’s evaluation was widespread among the higher echelons of the army.
Finally, there is a new phenomenon in the Israeli political elite: the criticism
of military operations in cost-effective policy terms is complemented by a
growing normative criticism of Israeli use of force. There is talk of how the constant fighting is corrupting the youth and making them intolerant, that being a
society at war has a price. There is a greater fear now about the psychological
brutalization of Israeli society, a concern not expressed before the 1980s.77
Current cabinet member, Labourite Yaakov Tzur listed among other bad features of the Lebanon imbroglio the ‘distortion of our moral image’.78 He feared
Contours of Israel’s new strategic thinking
97
moral corruption as a side effect of the constant preoccupation with war. Since
the beginning of the Intifada in December 1987, more voices have been heard
expressing the negative impact on Israeli society of the use of force against
civilians. Gur and Namir expressed their concerns that this type of engagement
is a breeding ground for racism and a cult of force.79 Peres quoted Sir Thomas
Moore’s Utopia in discussing the moral effects of the Intifada: ‘The war corrupted their own citizens by encouraging lust for robbery and murder; and the
laws fell into contempt.’80 Aloni directed her criticism not only at engagements
with the Palestinians, but also at the Israeli strategy in southern Lebanon
because Israeli forces were ‘occupying land in a foreign country’.81 The moral
reservations about specific military actions were an additional layer in the
growing aversion to the use of force within the Israeli political elite.
Erosion of self-reliance
Greater Israeli reluctance to use force in order to meet regional challenges
blends well with the changes in threat perceptions and the re-evaluation of
national power. These developments also undermine the self-reliance doctrine
and encourage Israeli leaders to entertain notions of cooperative security.
Indeed, Israelis have come to the conclusion that some of the impending
regional threats cannot be dealt with unilaterally. This contradicts Israel’s basic
self-reliance strategy. One might have expected an intensified search for selfreliance given the relative freedom of action and the easy access to sophisticated
weaponry that characterize the post-Cold War world from a small state perspective.82 But Israel is moving in the opposite direction. Israeli leaders are not prepared to entrust the country’s security to others. Yet, in light of the new threats,
senior political and military officials appear to have accepted a revised paradigm
of national security, in which self-reliance has become less central.
Following the missile attacks in 1991, Israel realized that its population
centers were vulnerable to enemy attack, and distant foes have such a capability.
Actually, Israeli leadership was alerted to this possibility in 1988, as extendedrange Scud-C missiles were used by Iraq against Iran during the first Gulf War.
The missile threat meant primarily that in contrast to the past, the Israeli Air
Force (IAF) could no longer protect the rear, and, consequently, that Israel lost
its escalation dominance. The emerging symmetry in the capacity of Israel and
the Arabs armed with missiles to inflict considerable damage on each other’s
population centers allows for greater Arab freedom of action in limited war
(a limited invasion, or a war of attrition, or a limited missile attack) because
Israel might hesitate to escalate. Previously, the threat of escalation was considered an effective way to force the rival to halt an armed conflict.
Also new was the realization that it is very difficult to confront challenges
that emanate far from Israel’s borders. The Israeli decision not to retaliate to the
1991 Iraqi missile attacks was primarily due to American pressure, but it
included an element of skepticism about Israeli ability to take care of distant
targets at little cost. The American failure to destroy even one mobile missile
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The post-Cold War period
launcher in 1991 was not very encouraging, although the Israeli military
believed it could have done a better job than the Americans.
Similarly, the new threat of proliferation of nuclear weapons poses a problem
for self-reliance. In 1981, Israel eliminated the Iraqi nuclear threat for some
time, but it is now questionable whether Israel can repeat such a feat singlehandedly. The new Middle Eastern nuclear aspirant, Iran, is even further away
than Iraq. The limited success of the American air strikes against Iraqi nuclear
installations and its hesitation to use force against North Korea show that in the
1990s, even a superpower had difficulties destroying key components of a
country’s nuclear infrastructure. There are significant operational difficulties in
such endeavors, in addition to a critical lack of sufficient intelligence.
Israel is fully aware of its limitations in this regard and is looking for international cooperation to meet the new challenge. The government feels that
Iranian nuclear efforts trouble not only Israel, but also the West. Beilin
announced from the Knesset rostrum that Israel has lobbied Western Europe and
other countries, such as China, to restrain the Iranian nuclear effort.83 The former
Chief of Staff, Barak, said that the Iranians:
threaten the flow of oil to the free world, the stability of pragmatic regimes
and the internal balance in the Arab world, and the economic growth of
Europe and Japan. In this sense they deserve a worldwide preventive effort.
What is needed is an international front.84
According to Rabin, only the United States can lead an international effort to
stop nuclear proliferation in the Middle East.85 Even Ariel Sharon and Benyamin
Natanyahu, both reputed hawks, have expressed similar views.86 Israel also
relied on the United States in the attempt to prevent the sale of North Korean
Nodong missiles to Iran, for which Israel is in range.87
Rabin declared that Israel prefers to exhaust every diplomatic avenue before
considering the use of force to prevent other parties from ‘preceding it in the
acquisition of nuclear weapons’.88 Despite a willingness to wait for action on the
part of the international community in dealing with this nuclear threat, Israel has
not entirely relinquished the option to ‘solve’ the problem on its own. Israel’s
1994 decision to purchase F-15I fighter planes was clearly designed to allow the
IAF the capability to deliver in all weather conditions a large payload of explosives at ranges of over a thousand miles. As long as Iran is an international
pariah, there is some political latitude for a pre-emptive attack. However, the
effectiveness of such an attack remains in question.
Similarly problematic are the prospects of an effective defense against missiles, which could strengthen self-reliance. Israeli political leadership is attracted
to an active defense posture. It can hardly refuse to pursue an option that offers
protection to the civilian population, while minimizing the need for pre-emption.
But the attitude of many within the military toward proposed active defense
measures against missiles, such as the Arrow anti-missile defense system, is
very ambivalent.89 The Arrow arouses little enthusiasm within the military due
Contours of Israel’s new strategic thinking
99
to the technological uncertainty surrounding its development and deployment,
and the system’s projected cost of $3 billion to $5 billion.90
Rabin said in the Knesset that Israel is ‘still far away from technological and
financial solutions to fully realize (the Arrow program)’.91 In general, he accepted
the IDF point of view on the Arrow and assigned the antiballistic missile
(ATBM) system a lower budgetary priority than it occupied during the tenure of
the previous minister of defense, Moshe Arens. He also decided to halt the development of an Israeli warning system, which also undermines self-reliance.92
Therefore, even if the ATBM system is deployed, Israel will still depend on
American satellites for early warning, which is critically important for the movement of Israel’s population into sheltered areas in the event of missile attacks.
The dangers of missile and nuclear proliferation have generated greater openness to exploration of alternative cooperative and regional security arrangements. The security establishment is uneasy; military technology that would
allow Israel unilaterally to defend itself against long-range weapons and enemies
is not truly available. Furthermore, the technology that can deal with ballistic
missile threats is so complex and expensive that Israel has little chance of doing
it alone.93 Foreign Minister Peres commented on the threat Israel faces from the
potential combination of nuclear weapons and Islamic fundamentalism, and concluded ‘that the modern era offers no foolproof means of national defence other
than a wide-ranging regional arrangement’.94 Even the more conservative
Deputy Minister of Defence Gur suggested some international organization
along the lines of the anti-Iraq coalition ‘that can stop belligerency . . . or better
yet, prevent [it] ahead of time’.95
A result of the erosion in self-reliance is a marked increase in Israeli willingness to trust and support the involvement of international actors and forces in the
Middle East and to experiment with collaborative security arrangements. Indeed,
Peres claimed that the traditional approach to security that emphasizes selfreliance is no longer relevant and that it has to be substituted with a regional
approach.96 He articulated a comprehensive security vision for Israel by proposing a Mideast security and development ‘super-structure’ covering such issues
as arms control, non-aggression, economic cooperation and human rights. His
concept, which was initially aired in Washington in May 1994, is modeled after
the 1975 Helsinky accord and the Conference on Security and Cooperation in
Europe (CSCE).97 Peres believes that the CSCE process was successful in
Europe and should be emulated in the Middle East. This conviction stems from
his emphasis on the importance of economic factors at the expense of politicomilitary developments. In short, new perceptions of the environment and of
national power substitute to some extent for the rooted realpolitik approach that
emphasized self-reliance.
Another example of the shift in Israeli doctrine away from self-reliance is its
attitude toward arms control, once an issue of little importance to Israeli leaders.
In the 1990s, Peres believed that the Middle East actors should imitate the
approach of the superpowers and realize that ‘cooperation was essential and
arms control has to become the call of the day’.98 In October 1991, Israel
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The post-Cold War period
accepted the Missile Technology Control Regime (MTCR) in response to American pressure. This move reflected Israeli interest in pursuing limitations on
missile proliferation in the Middle East. Further thought on the issue was given
throughout 1992 by the Defense and Foreign Affairs Ministries, formulating by
the end of the year Israel’s arms control policy. In September 1992, the Israeli
cabinet decided to sign the Chemical Weapons Convention (CWC), relinquishing Israel’s previous insistence on prior Arab signature.99 Israel preferred to
focus on control of conventional forces and chemical weapons, and to broach
the question of nuclear weapons only toward the end of the peace process. By
the end of 1993, Israel had also begun to comply with international demands to
report its arms sales to the United Nations arms registrar. This stands in contrast
to its previous arms sales policy of total secrecy.100 In May 1994, Israel agreed to
an American request to ban the export of anti-personnel mines.
Israel still prefers a regional approach to arms control, as opposed to a global
regime with the involvement of international agencies.101 It advocates a Middle
East Nuclear Weapon Free Zone with a regional mechanism for monitoring and
inspection, rather than just joining the NPT. Israel took seriously, for example,
the multilateral Working Group on Arms Control and Regional Security.102 The
reduced threat perceptions and the expected regional detente could facilitate the
emergence of effective verification procedures, which are a common barrier in
establishing an arms control regime.
Yet, Israel has firmly resisted pressure by Arab countries and others to sign
the NPT. Although pressure mounted before the Review and Extension of the
NPT conference in the spring of 1995, Israel refused to give up its nuclear
option. But it did announce in February 1995 that it would enter negotiations to
join the NPT and to establish a Nuclear Weapons Free Zone two years after a
comprehensive peace was established. Presenting a deadline, even if not a very
definite one, is a slight departure from previous positions. Furthermore, the
Clinton initiative on arms control in August 1993, which envisions a freeze on
the production of fissionable materials, was considered at the highest Israel echelons.103 The formulation of an international treaty to cut off production and
storing of fissionable materials will put further pressure on Israel to reconsider
its nuclear stance. Accepting a freeze would be a major change of policy, reinforcing the move away from self-reliance.
Another indication of such a move is a greater interest in involving the
United States in providing security services for Israel. During the Gulf War,
Likud-led Israel accepted the presence of Patriot SAMs manned by American
soldiers. In 1993, Rabin explicitly expressed his desire for ‘active American participation in the security of Israel’.104 Specifically, he asked the Americans to
station Patriot batteries in Israel and for bilateral cooperation in deploying
ATBMs.105 Moreover, Israel made several requests to be incorporated into the
Global Protection System against missiles, which the Americans have considered establishing.
Israel is also interested in the stationing of American troops on the Golan
Heights as part of an Israeli–Syrian peace treaty involving an Israeli withdrawal.
Contours of Israel’s new strategic thinking
101
This corresponds to greater Israeli willingness, evident since 1973, to accept the
presence of foreign troops along its borders in the context of security arrangements between Israel and its neighbors. Monitoring forces are viewed as useful
tripwire arrangements, warning of hostile moves and somewhat slowing down
the transition to war. They also raise the political cost of violating the status quo.
An American role on the Golan Heights, Israeli doves believe, will make full
withdrawal on the Golan more palatable and easier to sell to the Israeli public. In
December 1995, Peres even suggested a US–Israeli Defense Treaty, which had
previously been discarded as limiting Israel’s freedom of action.
An additional impetus in the Israeli search for alternatives to self-reliance is
exhaustion with the protracted conflict, which influences the willingness to
divert necessary economic resources to sustain a self-reliant posture. Israel’s
economy has shown consistent growth in the 1990s. This economic performance
enhances Israel’s ability to become militarily and politically self-reliant. But
economic gains are translated into a self-reliant posture only if the political
leadership chooses to act accordingly. In Israel’s case, economic resources have
been diverted to domestic needs and consumer consumption. The Rabin government came to power in 1992 with a clear commitment to rearrange Israeli priorities, giving precedence to neglected domestic issues such as unemployment,
education and transportation infrastructure. Instead, Defense Minister Rabin cut
the defense budget and rejected IDF’s requests for a budget allocation equivalent to a fixed proportion of the GNP. Defending his government record on
dealing with poverty, Rabin stated that he had closed an air base and two
squadrons of fighter planes.106
The trend of lowering defense expenditures in the Middle East in the latter
part of the 1980s ended with the 1990 Iraqi invasion of Kuwait and has been
replaced with a renewed arms race. The reluctance to engage in expensive military buildup is an incentive for reaching understandings on the establishment of
an arms control regime for the region, particularly in respect of conventional
capabilities. Peres pointed out that continuing the arms race and maintaining a
modern army will destroy the economy.107 The IDF is fully aware of the high
cost of maintaining an advanced army.108 Furthermore, the use of sophisticated
force with great and accurate firepower is increasingly expensive.
Economic constraints are predominant in one area where Israel has given up
the quest for selective self-sufficiency – weapons development. In 1987 pressure
from the United States and from several domestic circles led Israel to reconsider
building the Lavi advanced aircraft and canceling the project. The contract for
building the new Israel Saar-5 corvettes was awarded to an American company,
rather than to Israel Shipyards, due to of lack of funds. The American company
is paid through military assistance funds, which have to be spent in the United
States. The troubles of Israeli military industries were a result of the shrinking
world market for weapons following the demise of the Soviet Union and the
greater dependency on exports by small state industries all over the world. With
the change of government in Israel in 1992, the military industries lost a valuable patron, Likud Defense Minister Moshe Arens. Rabin, by comparison, held a
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The post-Cold War period
more minimalist view of the role of these industries for Israel’s national security. For him, ‘the military industries are too big for Israel’.109 During Rabin’s
recent tenure as defence minister the military industries contracted even further.
In recent years, Israel has also lowered its allocations for weapons R&D in its
defense budget. According to a report by Israel’s state comptroller, allocations
for R&D were reduced by 43 percent from 1986 to 1994. Such cutbacks threaten
to waste accumulated technological gains and highly professional manpower, in
addition to increasing Israel’s dependence on foreign suppliers.110 Financial
stringencies have already affected the Arrow ATBM system, and similar cuts in
high-tech Israeli projects may negatively influence Israel’s ability to maintain a
technological edge over its rivals. In general, this economic factor is the result of
the priorities in Israeli society, which is less willing to divert resources to
national security at the expense of its standard of living. This preference undermines the effort for military self-reliance.
Conclusion
Israel’s Labour-led government has adopted new perceptions of the external
environment and embraced a changed concept of national power. These amount
to a proclivity for greater trust in and cooperation with other regional states and
international actors. Israel’s political leadership is also less willing to use force.
Israeli society displays battle fatigue and clearly prefers butter to guns. It is less
likely than ever before to support sacrifices needed to attain greater measures of
self-reliance. Israeli attitudes toward the use of force have become more congruent with the prevalent mood in the West, where there is a high sensitivity to
casualties, increased apprehension about the high economic cost of building and
using military force, and declining belief in the legitimacy of its use. All these
factors push Israel into a search for alternative security measures. This is very
obvious in its policy on arms control and the emerging nuclear threat. More
ambiguous signs are the weakening of the indigenous capability to produce
weapons and considerations on limiting nuclear options.
Although Israel has not yet changed its national security doctrine, there is a
noticeable departure from past premises and policies. Rabin’s death may well
intensify this shift. He was the least dovish member of his government, and he
served as a brake on the attempts of Peres to implement policies according to his
visionary ideas. The new thinking, which is predicated on an optimistic evaluation of the environment, leads to a greater dependence upon the goodwill of
other international actors. This is very problematic in terms of national security
if the Middle East remains a volatile region, where the use of force is part and
parcel of the rule of the game. But considering the limitations upon a small state,
Israel may have no choice but to engage in an historical gamble and rely on
others to deal with some of the threats that it faces. Israel must remember,
however, that even gamblers should use caution.
7
Israel’s strategic environment
in the 1990s
The 1990s were of particular importance in Israel’s history. After being a
regional outcast for several decades since its establishment, Israel became an
acceptable partner in regional interactions during the last decade of the twentieth
century. The 1990s were characterized by drastic changes in the international
system and by significant regional developments, which were of great importance in terms of Israeli national security. During this time, Israel’s international
status improved. This chapter reviews the changes in Israel’s strategic environment in the 1990s at two levels of analysis. The first deals with the changes in
the global international system and their impact on Israel’s position, while the
second focuses on the interactions between the regional, political and military
dynamics of Israel’s national security.
This decade was strategically very beneficial to Israel. Israel has remained a
good ally of the US in an American-dominated world. The systemic changes in
the international arena were helpful to Israel in becoming a respected international actor. Moreover, they allowed for much progress in the peace process;
that is, Israel’s acceptance in the region. This process has been rooted in international developments and in regional trends, which are only partly relevant to
the subject of this chapter and are treated elsewhere.1 Regarding Israel’s national
security, while the chances for a large-scale conventional war were lower than in
the past, Israel still faced existential threats, stemming particularly from the
proliferation of weapons of mass destruction (WMD) in the Middle East. In
addition, it continued to face low-intensity conflict challenges.
The international arena
The end of bipolarity in international affairs was the most important systemic
change of the 1990s. The end of the Cold War was generally beneficial in strategic terms to Israel. The informal alliance with the US since the end of the
1960s was an important component of Israel’s deterrent power in regional politics. One important Arab strategic goal has for years been to weaken the link
between Israel and its superpower ally and to deny the Jewish state international
legitimacy.2 The overall robustness of Jerusalem–Washington relations and
particularly the increased strategic cooperation between the two sides since the
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The post-Cold War period
1980s made the Arab goal of putting a wedge between the two unrealistic. The
campaign to isolate Israel from the international community also failed.
The emergence of the US as the hegemonic power in international relations
in the early 1990s benefited several of its allies. Although in the new era the US
is patently less in need of allies, Israel has continued to be identified as a close
ally. United States–Israel strategic relations in the 1990s were barely affected by
the American international preponderance.3 The level of American military aid
to Israel actually increased in the latter part of the decade, albeit at the expense
of a reduction in the amount of the rendered economic aid. Moreover, the US
has continued its financial support for the development of high-tech weapon
systems, such as the anti-ballistic missile Arrow, the anti-ballistic interception
missile at the boost phase, Moab, and the laser weapon against Katyushas, Nautilus. The US also agreed to shorten the warning time of incoming missile
attacks provided by its satellites to the Israeli early warning system. The US has
remained committed to maintaining the Israel Defense Forces’ (IDF) qualitative
edge over its Arab opponents. For example, Washington agreed to sell longrange (over 1,500 km) F-15I aircraft in 1994 and the latest F-16 models in 1999.
The September 1999 deal, including fifty aircraft, mission equipment and
support package, was worth about $2.5 billion. The purchase agreement left
open the option for sixty additional aircraft.4 Throughout the 1990s, the weapon
procurement of the IDF enjoyed relatively free access to the American conventional arms arsenal. Its main constraint was insufficient financial resources rather
than politically inspired restrictions.
In contrast to the 1980s, the US was less reluctant in the following decade to
publicize the American military exercises that took place in Israel. Even when
the tensions in bilateral relations were noticeable, as during the tenure of Israel’s
premiers Yitzhak Shamir (1988–92) and Binyamin Netanyahu (1996–99), when
the divergent views on peace process issues were accentuated, the level of
strategic cooperation between the two countries remained stable. For example,
a Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) between the two countries from
October 1998 highlights the ‘developing regional threats emanating from the
acquisition of ballistic missiles and the proliferation of weapons of mass
destruction’, and commits the US in an unprecedented way to ‘enhancing
Israel’s defensive and deterrent capabilities’ – an allusion to Israel’s nuclear
potential.
However, despite the expanded American role in international affairs,
Jerusalem could not count on Washington’s capability to eliminate or lower considerably the threats to its security by imposing a Pax Americana in the region.
There were clear limitations to American power. Actually, the cutbacks in the
American defense budget and the ensuing force reductions have hampered the
ability of the US to project long-distance force. For example, the American plan
for a Global Protection System, an ambitious attempt to protect US allies from
hostile ballistic missiles, that was aired at the beginning of the decade and was
attractive to Israeli security planners, did not move much beyond the design
stage. Its influence has increasingly been resisted all over the world.5 In addition,
Israel’s strategic environment in the 1990s
105
its imperial impulse and political will to serve as the global policeman was questioned, particularly in the Middle East.
The US-dominant role in world politics was initially seen, however, as beneficial in curbing the spread of long-range missile technology and nuclear proliferation. Israel was pleased with the imposition of the US-inspired United
Nations Special Commission on Disarmament (UNSCOM) inspection regime on
Iraq. Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin also relied on American diplomacy, rather
than Israeli diplomatic efforts, to prevent the sale of the North Korean longrange Nodong missile to Iran.6 Furthermore, since the mid-1990s, Israel has
asked Washington (the administration and Congress) to pressure Russia to
refrain from selling sensitive technologies in the area of missilery and nuclear
weapons to Iran.
Israel was even ready to experiment with US-backed international arms
control regimes, a change from its traditional suspicions of arms control efforts
and international institutions.7 In October 1991, Israel accepted, at US prodding,
the Missile Technology Control Regime (MTCR). In September 1992, the
Israeli cabinet decided to sign the Chemical Weapons Convention (CWC), relinquishing its previous insistence on prior Arab signature. Rabin’s government
(1992–95) also indicated Israel’s willingness to adhere to a Comprehensive Test
Ban Treaty (CTBT), which was put on the international arms control agenda in
1993. By the end of 1993, Israel had also begun to comply with international
demands to report its arms sales to the UN arms registrar. In May 1994, Israel
agreed to an American request to ban the export of anti-personnel mines. The
Israeli government also took very seriously the Arms Control and Regional
Security (ACRS) multilateral talks, which petered out by the beginning of 1996.
In 1998, the Netanyahu government even agreed to move on the Fissile Cut-off
Treaty in order not to strain further relations with the US. Israel refused,
however, to sign the NPT, and in 1995, when this treaty was extended, the US
tacitly accepted Israel’s claim for receiving an exceptional exemption. The
Rabin government even toyed with the idea of stationing American forces on the
Golan Heights in the framework of an Israeli–Syrian peace treaty, and with
some form of American military presence in Israel, but the Israeli defense establishment was not keen on the notion of formalizing the bilateral strategic ties
through a defense treaty. Such a treaty continued to be seen in Jerusalem as
problematic in terms of Israel’s freedom of military action and its nuclear
option.
Indeed, toward the end of the decade a more sober attitude developed as well
as a greater appreciation of the limits of what even a dominant US can attain.
ACRS talks collapsed early in 1996 against American wishes. North Korea
seemed to continue almost unabated its nuclear program and its sales of missile
technology to the Middle East.8 According to Israeli intelligence, Russia did not
fully cooperate in the efforts to curb Iranian progress in its missile and nuclear
programs. It gradually became clear, over the decade, that the loosening of bipolarity facilitated the seepage of sensitive technologies to Third World countries’
WMD programs. Moreover, the Indian and Pakistani nuclear tests in the spring
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The post-Cold War period
of 1998 underscored the American failure to expand the scope of its sponsored
international arms control regimes.
Nevertheless, the end of bipolarity was helpful in buttressing Israel’s regional
position. Israel’s regional rivals, the Arab countries, were weakened by the collapse of the Soviet Union. The Arabs no longer had the backing of a superpower, which thus limited their military and diplomatic options versus Israel.
The two most viciously anti-Israel countries in the Middle East, Iraq and Iran,
became the enemies of the US and subject to American sanctions. Despite the
growing criticism of the dual containment policy, by the end of the decade,
Washington did not change course.9 The fact that the US emerged as the only
global superpower has made Arab countries more responsive to American preferences, including the acceptance of Israel in the region. The breakdown of the
Soviet Empire allowed close to one million Jews from the former Soviet Union
to immigrate to Israel during the 1990s, which strengthened the Jewish state in
demographic and economic terms. This mass immigration of generally highquality manpower to Israel was an important contribution to the development of
a demographic critical mass required for Jewish survival in the Middle East. The
waves of immigration initially drew much Arab opposition, but to no avail.
The Arab bloc was further weakened politically by another systemic change –
the emergence of a buyers’ market in the world oil economy. Arab oil-producing
countries, in particular, lost much political clout due to low oil prices. The
growing awareness of new oil vistas, particularly the high expectations for quick
access to the untapped oil riches in Central Asia in the early 1990s, increased
the pressures on oil prices downward.10 The combination of low oil prices,
high population growth rates, a failure to modernize and diversify the overall
economy, and mere economic mismanagement in most Arab countries, further
deteriorated their economic situation and their international standing.11 This also
weakened their opposition to Israel.
With the emergence of a unipolar system, Israel became sought after by many
countries because of Jerusalem’s good relations with Washington and its reputation for considerable clout on Capitol Hill. Its image as a powerful high-tech
country also contributed to its new popularity in the international arena. All the
East European states, previously in the Soviet orbit, resumed relations with
Israel. Significantly, the new Muslim Central Asian states, once relieved of the
Soviet yoke, sought diplomatic ties with the Jewish state. In addition, it was the
1991 Madrid conference, at which almost all Arab countries participated and
indirectly legitimized interactions with Israel that eliminated many of the inhibitions countries had when considering the upgrading of relations with Israel.
Indeed, leading Asian powers such as China and India, Turkey in the Middle
East, and Nigeria in Africa, decided in the first months of 1992 to establish fullrank ambassadorial ties with Israel. These decisions obviously reflected earlier
assessments on the need to improve relations with Jerusalem.
The new Indian–Israeli relationship deserves particular attention, as close
connections have developed between the two countries’ defense establishments,
and a series of deals have been signed to sell Israeli arms, defense equipment
Israel’s strategic environment in the 1990s
107
and military technology to India. Moreover, India of the 1990s, which is less
burdened than before with its Russian connection, realized that the two countries
share a similar strategic outlook on several international issues, such as nuclear
proliferation, radical Islam and state-sponsored terrorism, which facilitates highlevel coordination and cooperation.12 The opening to India, a huge market, has
also had many economic benefits for Israel, and indeed the civilian trade has
been booming as well (it quadrupled during 1992–99). Following the January
1999 American decision to discontinue the sanctions against India, imposed
because of the May 1998 nuclear tests, a serious snag in Jerusalem’s relations
with Delhi was removed, paving the way for the potential for even closer ties.
The upgraded relations with Turkey, an important Muslim country, have
acquired a similar strategic dimension, as elaborated below in the section analyzing the regional setting. Systemic changes were, to a great extent, responsible
for creating the environment conducive to the development of these new strategic relationships, and by the end of the decade, most countries felt that their
relations with Israel were no longer hostage to the oscillations in Arab–Israeli
talks.
Israelis, conditioned in international isolation, noted with pleasure the
changes in international attitudes toward the Jewish state. Prime Minister Rabin,
a well-known pessimist who experienced the diplomatic isolation of the postl973 period, said in 1992, ‘Israel is no longer “a people that dwells alone” ’.13
Rabin stressed his conviction that Israel lives in a new environment: ‘The world
is no longer against us. . . . States which never stretched their hand to us, states
which condemned us, which fought us . . . regard us today as a worthy and
respectable address.’14
The regional setting
In the 1990s Israeli security planners have stressed a concentric perspective, an
inner and an outer ring, in assessing the security risks and challenges emanating
from their surroundings. The ‘first ring’ included the neighboring countries that
shared a common border with Israel. In contrast, ‘the outer ring’ (often termed
in Israeli strategic parlance as the ‘second ring’) referred to the more distant
countries in the Middle East. The 1990s were characterized by a reduction of
threat from the ‘first ring’ countries and a considerable rise in Israeli concerns
about security challenges from countries in the ‘outer ring’. The developments
in the two ‘rings’ are, of course, interrelated.
The outer ring
The decade started with an Iraqi threat ‘to burn half of Israel’ with chemical
weapons (April 1990), followed by an attempt by Saddam Hussein to gain
regional hegemony by conquering Kuwait and its riches in August 1990. Iraq’s
invasion of Kuwait, after the end of the Cold War, elicited a strong American
response. Under the leadership of President George H. W. Bush, an international
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The post-Cold War period
coalition was forged to fight aggression and the Iraqi forces were evicted by
force from Kuwait. A large part of the Iraqi army, at that time the fifth largest in
the world, was destroyed. Furthermore, the alarming extent of Iraqi progress on
various programs to develop WMDs became clear. Subsequently, Saddam
Hussein’s defeated country became an international pariah, subjected to UN
inspections. The UN teams engaged in demolishing Scud-3 missiles and a large
part of the WMD arsenal and infrastructure.
The 1991 Iraqi military defeat by the American-led coalition had positive
security results for Israel, particularly in light of the fact that the havoc inflicted
on Iraq and its forces occurred without IDF participation. Yet the 1991 Gulf War
was also a reminder of the vicissitudes of Middle East politics, the vulnerability
of Israel to long-range missile attacks and the limits of Israeli military power.
The Iraqi missile attacks (fitted with conventional warheads) resulted in only
minimal casualties, but the economic damage was considerable as the country
was paralyzed for several weeks. Moreover, the unprecedented Israeli restraint
in the face of Iraqi missile attacks at a time when Israel was governed by the
most right-wing government in its history, a result of the reluctance to
react without coordination with Washington, emphasized the limits on Israel’s
freedom of action. Prime Minister Shamir and Moshe Arens, his Defense Minister, rejected the option of unilateral action.15 Israeli behavior was construed in
several Arab quarters as weakness.16 The perception that Israel’s inaction was a
sign of growing dependence upon the US and that it lacked the determination to
act forcefully in defense of its interests was conducive to erosion in Israel’s
deterrence.17
Of great importance, from an Israeli perspective, was the effect of the Gulf
War on the political mood in the region. It emphasized the American dominance
and allowed for the evolving peace process between Israel and its neighbors,
which significantly ameliorated the international circumstances in which Israel
operated. In 1991, in the aftermath of the Cold War, the US capitalized on its
victory in the Gulf War over Iraq by promoting another attempt at continuing
the peace process with the 1979 Egyptian–Israeli peace treaty – the October
1991 Madrid conference. This conference initiated a process of bilateral negotiations, as well as the participation of an unprecedented number of Arab countries
(belonging to the ‘second ring’) to discuss Middle East problems together with
Israel in a multilateral setting. As a result of the new atmosphere, in the aftermath of the 1991 Madrid conference, ‘outer-ring’ countries, such as Morocco,
Mauritania, Tunisia, Oman and Qatar, established formal diplomatic relations
with the Jewish state.
Among the ‘second-ring’ countries, Iraq stands out in its enmity to Israel.
Virulent anti-Israeli propaganda and threats continued to serve Saddam Hussein
as a legitimizing device for his regime and its hegemonic ambitions. At the end
of the decade, Saddam, with a record of aggressive behavior, still ruled the
country and still had a large conventional army at his disposal. Iraq was successful in defying the UNSCOM regime and maintained a formidable stockpile of
weapons, which threatened its neighbors and Israel.18 This arsenal included
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109
long-range missiles, chemical weapons, biological agents and components for
nuclear weapons.
Another ‘second-ring’ country with a potential to harm Israel was the Islamic
Republic of Iran. A portion of the religious zeal was directed against ‘the Zionist
entity’ by declaring an unequivocal theological opposition to the mere existence
of the Jewish state and by supporting terrorist groups such as Hamas and Hizballah. Overall, the feared Islamic wave had passed the crest and was unable to take
a hold beyond Iran and Sudan. Despite the inflammatory Islamic rhetoric, Iran
conducted a pragmatic foreign policy.19 Moreover, the Arab regimes displayed a
remarkable ability to deal successfully (usually a euphemism for ruthlessness)
with the indigenous radical Islamic opposition groups and maintain the reins of
power.
While Iranian ideology gradually constituted less of a threat to regional
stability, its missile and WMD programs have become more feared than before.
By the end of 1999, Iran reached a very advanced stage in the development of
the surface-to-surface Shehab-3 missile. The two-stage missile, tested in July
1998, was based on the North Korean Nodong, but Russian contractors changed
its design and sub-systems. It has a 1,300 km range, putting Israel into its striking distance.
This long-range capability made the Iranian nuclear program even more
threatening.20 Indeed, for Rabin, the major enemy in the 1990s was Islamic Iran,
which was engaged in acquiring a nuclear capability and in sponsoring terror.21
In Rabin’s eyes, terror was no longer a military nuisance but a strategic threat
which could derail the peace process. While Israel was pleased with the change
of tone in Tehran toward the US, after Khattami was elected as President in
1997, and despite the moderation in Israel’s statements against Iran in the latter
part of the decade, Tehran continued to retain the ‘Small Satan’ epitaph in references to Israel. Therefore, Iran was still considered a serious potential existential
threat for Israel throughout the 1990s.
One important extremely positive development in the ‘outer ring’ was the
upgrading in Israeli–Turkish relations.22 For Israel, this has been the most beneficial regional development since President Anwar Sadat of Egypt came to
Jerusalem in 1977, thereby changing the parameters of the Arab–Israeli conflict.
Israeli–Turkish ties constitute a most important international development in the
Middle East. They bring together the two staunchest and strongest allies of the
West in the region. After many years of being preoccupied with the Soviet threat
and with the quest of becoming part of Europe, Turkey is paying greater attention to the Middle East, particularly to its radical neighbors Iran, Syria and Iraq.
Moreover, following the collapse of the Soviet Union, Central Asia – a region of
great interest to Turkey – has become part of a greater Middle East. This is also
a reason for Turkey’s greater involvement in the international politics of the
Middle East.23 Fortunately for Israel, there is a convergence of the two countries’ national interests.24
The two countries fear abandonment by the West, particularly in an
international system where their contribution to the containment of Soviet
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The post-Cold War period
expansionism is no longer needed. Israel seems to be in a better position than
Turkey in Washington, but both are interested in strengthening their ties with the
US. For various reasons the US has not shown sufficient sensitivity to Turkey’s
security needs. Because of the influence of the Greek and Armenian lobbies,
Washington placed an informal embargo on arms sales to Turkey. Its territorial
prognosis for the Arab–Israeli conflict has always favored Arab preferences.
Nevertheless, a continuous American presence in the region was viewed as beneficial in Jerusalem and Ankara, as it brings about stability in the region, and
assists its two pro-Western and democratic allies.
Both countries wish to curb the influence of radical Islam emanating primarily from Iran. Islamic extremism calls for the destruction of Israel and threatens
the secular nature of the Turkish polity. In addition, radical Islamists attempt to
destabilize pro-Western Arab regimes, such as Egypt, Jordan and Saudi Arabia.
Israel and Turkey also face a common enemy – Syria. The two countries have
similar disputes with Syria – over water and territory – and face similar challenges. Until October 1998, Syria hosted Abdullah Ocalan, the head of the
Kurdish anti-Turkish PKK terrorist group. It also hosts Palestinian organizations
such as the Hamas and the Palestinian Popular Fronts, which are intent on
wrecking the peace process. Damascus also conducted a war by proxy – the
Hizballah – against Israel in southern Lebanon. An Israeli–Turkish partnership,
however, forced Hafez Assad into a more cautious and moderate posture.
Another common strategic interest is to minimize the proliferation of
weapons of mass destruction and long-range ballistic missiles to the rogue states
in the region, primarily Iran, Iraq and Syria. Turkey borders all three. Israel was
already subjected to missile attacks from Syria (1973) and Iraq (1991), and
feared that Iran would extend the range of its missiles to reach targets within its
territory. They both feared that the West would not address this threat seriously,
leaving them alone to cope with this security challenge.
Finally, following the 1996 military agreements between the two countries,
much cooperation has taken place in the security domain to enhance the military
capabilities of each side. Access to Turkish airspace allowed the Israeli Air Force
to train better, as well as providing new routes to enemy territory, and enhanced
efforts to collect valuable intelligence due to Turkey’s proximity to the radical
states. In turn, Jerusalem assists Ankara in upgrading its military forces with its
technological and operational knowhow. Israel is already retrofitting Turkish
fighter jets (F-4s and F-5s) and is ready to transfer other military technologies to
the Turkish defense industries. Israel also markets a variety of military equipment
and the Turks expressed interest also in the anti-ballistic missile Arrow system. In
January 1998, the two countries held together with the US a naval exercise in the
eastern Mediterranean, to which Jordan sent an observer. Such an exercise took
place again in December 1999 and January 2001. Despite the fact that the
‘Reliant Mermaid’ maneuvers were defined as a naval rescue exercise with no
offensive character, they attracted huge attention in the Arab world.
The strategic partnership between the two countries is of tremendous importance because it creates a new balance of power in the Middle East. The alliance
Israel’s strategic environment in the 1990s
111
with Turkey is also critical for progress in the peace process, which is predicated
on a strong Israel.
The inner ring
In 1991, the Americans brought Israel’s neighbors, the Syrians, the Palestinians
and the Jordanians, to the negotiating table in Madrid, primarily according to
Israeli terms. No preconditions insisted on in the past by Syria were met (an
Israeli commitment to withdraw from the Golan Heights and negotiations under
the umbrella of a binding international conference). President Hafez Assad of
Syria was dragged into the peace process out of weakness, following the loss
of his Soviet patron and the US demonstration of military might and resolve in
1991. Participation in the peace process was a Syrian adjustment to a new international reality.25 Similarly, a weakened PLO finally accepted the Americansponsored 1978 Camp David Accords’ framework for progress on the
Palestinian track; that is, an incremental approach, leaving the difficult issues to
be discussed in a second phase of negotiations, without Israel making any upfront concessions in these matters.26
The evolving peace process led to important agreements that made Israel a
more acceptable actor in the region and reduced the chances of an additional
large-scale Arab–Israeli war. The PLO and Israel signed an agreement in
September 1993 (Oslo 1) and in September 1995 (Oslo 2), amounting to a
renewed partition of the Land of Israel, indicating the possibility of a precarious
coexistence between the two national entities. The agreements with the Palestinians, who over the years succeeded in their campaign to impress the world in
regard to the importance of resolving their problems, further improved Israel’s
international status. Additional interim agreements were signed in January 1997
(Hebron), in October 1998 (Wye), in September 1999 (Sharm el-Sheikh), while
the difficult issues – borders, settlements, Jerusalem and the nature of the Palestinian entity – were to be dealt with at a later stage in the final status talks. As
part of the same historic process, Israel signed a peace treaty with Jordan in
October 1994, which formalized the good strategic relations between the two
countries.
Syria, despite propagating the image that it made a strategic decision to make
peace with Israel, seemed unable to capitalize on Israel’s unexpected territorial
generosity. Assad refused to accept the Golan Heights in exchange for a peace
treaty, which would require of him to open up Syria’s closed society to outside
influence. This has been the American evaluation, and even Arab capitals recognize, unofficially, that Assad missed a historic opportunity to make a very favorable deal with Israel.27 Indeed, Rabin offered him the Golan Heights in August
1993 and Shimon Peres repeated the offer in January 1996. Even Netanyahu
suggested a similar deal in 1998, but Assad still refused. The unprecedented territorial generosity of Prime Minister Ehud Barak (elected in May 1999) was also
not sufficient to induce Assad into an agreement. In any case, the agreements
with the Palestinians and Jordan clearly demonstrated that Syria did not have a
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The post-Cold War period
veto power on the process and that it was increasingly isolated by its refusal to
make a deal with Israel. Syria’s attempts to mobilize Arab states into a more
radical position versus Israel during the Netanyahu years were unsuccessful, too.
The peace process drastically lowered the chances for large-scale war with
the neighboring countries – the ‘first-ring’ countries. Already since 1979,
following the Egyptian–Israeli peace treaty, the Arabs lost the participation of
Egypt, the strongest Arab country, as well as the two-front option. The renewed
peace process since Madrid legitimized retroactively Egypt’s decision to opt for
diplomacy, which included a pro-American orientation in its foreign policy, in
achieving its goals versus Israel. It also made it more difficult for Cairo to revert
to pre-1979 policies, particularly in the American-dominated world of the 1990s.
Yet, despite its twenty-year peace treaty with Israel, Egypt continued to arm
itself and has developed a large and modern US-equipped army. According to
some of its generals, Egypt continued to see Israel as a potential military rival.28
It even conducted large-scale military exercises against an ‘enemy to the West’.
From 1993, Israeli intelligence focused greater attention on Egyptian weapon
procurement, particularly the items purchased for its air force.29 Since the mid1990s, Egypt has gradually become a source of concern, although it was not
defined by the IDF as a threat. From the mid-1990s, its demands for putting an
end to the international force monitoring the demilitarization of the Sinai Peninsula struck a sensitive Israeli chord. Moreover, President Hosni Mubarak
refrained from visiting Israel even during the tenure of Rabin as Prime Minister
and Egypt occasionally played an obstructive role in the peace negotiations with
the Palestinians.
Particularly annoying was Egypt’s high-profile policy, in contrast to the
1980s, designed to bring Israel under the NPT umbrella. This was the main
cause for the collapse of the ACRS talks early in 1996.30 In 1999, Osama el-Baz,
advisor to President Mubarak, even threatened that unless Israel joined the NPT
within five to seven years, his country would consider arming itself with chemical and biological warheads.31 Egypt’s imports of North Korean Scud-C longrange missiles, as recent as 1997, further increased Israeli concerns. Egypt has
also begun developing a full-scale space reconnaissance program meant to
compete with Israel.32 In light of Egypt’s behavior toward Israel, IDF military
planners started thinking about the possibility of an armed conventional
encounter with Egyptian armored units crossing into the Sinai Desert in violation of the demilitarization clauses of the Peace Treaty.33
Jordan, another ‘first-ring’ country, formalized its good strategic relationship
with Israel by signing the peace treaty of 1994. Jordan has the longest border with
Israel and is located very close to the strategic heartland of the Jewish state (the
Jerusalem–Tel Aviv–Haifa triangle). Therefore, the peace treaty removed the
most important block in what Israelis termed ‘the Eastern Front’ – a multipronged Syrian–Iraqi–Jordanian–Saudi Arabian coordinated attack from the East.
The expectations that relations with Jordan will embrace most sectors of Jordanian economy and society and outdo the ‘cold peace’ with Egypt have remained
unfulfilled. The peace treaty facilitated, however, greater cooperation between the
Israel’s strategic environment in the 1990s
113
two military establishments. Jordan even became interested in the deployment of
the Arrow system in its territory as part of a regional BMD system.
The death of King Hussein in February 1999 was an important test of the
strength of the Hashemite regime and the resilience of the peace treaty. The
smooth transition of power to his son, Abdullah, and the continuity in foreign
policy orientation were accepted with relief in Jerusalem as in many other capitals of the world.
Among the ‘first-ring’ countries, Syria has persisted in its refusal to reach a
deal with Israel and has blocked any progress on the Israeli–Lebanese track (it
gained full control of Lebanon in October 1990 as a result of its aligning itself
with the US during the Gulf crisis). Nevertheless, since spring 1991, voices in
Israeli military intelligence have been heard to say that President Assad of Syria
changed course, and preferred a diplomatic avenue rather than a military path, to
attain his political goals versus Israel.34 While Assad failed to sign a deal, his
participation in the American-sponsored peace process has limited his military
options.
Within the ‘first-ring’ range countries, Syria has remained the only military
threat to Israel, albeit one with decreasing offensive capabilities. In the 1990s, the
Syrian goal of ‘strategic parity’ with the IDF became even more elusive than in the
1980s.35 Nevertheless, it was the only army in Israel’s immediate vicinity trained
to carry out surprise attacks. Despite its shopping spree immediately after the Gulf
War, Damascus has suffered from lack of funds to modernize its army throughout
the decade.36 Only in missilery capabilities progress was steady. During 1991 to
1993, Syria acquired with Iranian funding North Korean technology to produce
Scud-C missiles, whose 500 km range cover most of Israel. Syria test-fired its first
locally made Scud-C in mid-1996. Moreover, it gradually hardened its missile
silos and took additional steps to protect them from air strikes. At the end of 1999,
Israeli intelligence sources reported that due to Russian and Iranian help the development of a derivative of the Scud-C with a longer range was expected to be completed within six to twelve months, which would allow Syria to deploy the
missiles deeper into its territory – further away from Israel’s reach.37
Throughout the decade, Syria allowed the extreme Islamic Hizballah organization to receive support from Iran in order to wage a guerrilla campaign against
the Israeli military presence in southern Lebanon. This war was occasionally
punctuated by Katyusha missile attacks on Israeli towns and villages close to the
border. Conceivably, this was considered in Damascus as an incentive for Israel
to sweeten the deal it proposed to Syria. In this low-intensity conflict, Israel lost
twenty to thirty soldiers each year, which gradually became a political issue and
created growing public pressure for unilateral withdrawal. By the end of the
decade, those within the political elite who recommended withdrawal only
within the framework of a formal agreement with Lebanon and/or Syria, which
also reflected the IDF preference, had the upper hand. Yet, Barak made a vague
promise for unilateral withdrawal in the spring of 1999 during the election campaign, which reflected the growing weariness with this engagement within
Israeli society. The unilateral withdrawal was implemented in May 2000.
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The post-Cold War period
The armed conflict in southern Lebanon represented the type of military challenge for which the IDF was preparing itself in a more serious manner than before.
Another potential arena for low-intensity conflict (LIC) was the Palestinian-ruled
territory, particularly after the violent events of September 1996 when the security
personnel of the Palestinian Authority (PA) attacked IDF posts and units. The
emergence of the PA as a quasi-independent political entity with a large number of
soldiers at its disposal (c. 40,000) very close to Israel’s heartland, its transportation
arteries, airports and emergency depots created a new problem.38 The smuggling
of weapons, including mortars and anti-tank missiles, into a revisionist PA, and its
tolerance of the existence of an extreme Islamic terrorist infrastructure (Hamas
and Islamic Jihad), only accentuated the new LIC challenges Israel has faced in
the 1990s.
The continuity of the region’s rules of the game
The Middle East was affected by the systemic changes in the distribution of
world power and by the developments in the political economy of energy
sources. The changes of the 1990s in the regional balance of power and the
agreements reached by the parties in the Arab–Israeli arena failed, however, to
elicit new rules for the game played by the various international actors. Basically, the old patterns of regional interaction – power politics – have remained
unchanged, despite the removal of the superpower competition in the area.39 The
region remained conflict prone and a source of instability.40 Indeed, the dominant prism to international relations among the political leaders of the Middle
East, with the exception of a few in Jerusalem, has remained power politics.
This is precisely why Cairo, Damascus and Baghdad fear the new
Israeli–Turkish entente.41
Moreover, in the Middle East the use of force is still considered an acceptable
and useful tool of foreign policy. ‘The region’s zeitgeist also favors violence,
where guerrillas are lauded and peacemakers ridiculed’.42 Even peace negotiations are accompanied by violence. For example, Syria did not desist from using
the Hizballah in bleeding Israel while it engaged in peace negotiations with the
Israeli governments. The PA has been turning a blind eye to the activities of
Islamic terrorists on its controlled territory when it believes it suits its interests.
In September 1996, the PA allowed its soldiers to shoot at the Israeli army,
while Yasser Arafat has often threatened Israel with a new Intifada should his
claims be unsatisfied. The emerging Palestinian entity has great potential for
developing into a revisionist and predatory state.43 President Mubarak and other
Arab leaders have repeatedly warned that in the absence of ‘progress’ there
might be a violent eruption.
Significantly, Arab strategists discovered that long-range missiles can overcome several aspects of Israeli conventional superiority, primarily its air
supremacy. Arab states, even those not bordering Israel, could damage the
Israeli civilian home front, and obstruct Israeli efforts to prepare for a large-scale
attack by missile strikes on airfields and staging areas of the ground forces.
Israel’s strategic environment in the 1990s
115
Moreover, a new form of attrition war became available. The American failure
to hunt down Iraqi missile launchers in 1991 underscored the difficulties in suppressing such offensive capability. Since 1991, the missile threat has become a
major security challenge for Israel.44
The spread of long-range capabilities in the Middle East became even more
dangerous to Israel when coupled with the proliferation of WMDs. Some missiles can be armed with WMD warheads. The small size of Israel, geographically and demographically, transforms the option of a WMD attack on its home
front, particularly from ‘second-ring’ countries such as Iraq or Iran, into a strategic nightmare.
In general, the borders in the Middle East, which were drawn by colonialist
powers, still lack legitimacy. This, as well as the residuals of Pan-Arab ideology, allows for revisionist policies. Syria never recognized Lebanon as an
independent state and was successful in turning it into its satellite. Iraq still
has ambitions to annex Kuwait. South Yemen disappeared as an independent
state in May 1990 as it was ‘united’ by force with its neighbor – North Yemen.
A dissatisfied Palestine could become the source for irredentist claims East
and West. Indeed, Arafat’s willingness ‘to sacrifice even the last Palestinian
child for placing the Palestinian flag on the walls of Jerusalem’ and his
repeated calls for jihad indicated the potential for additional demands and tensions. Thus a comprehensive termination of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict is,
unfortunately, simply an unattainable goal for the foreseeable future. The
violent campaign started by the Palestinians in September 2000 reinforces
such a conclusion.
The best we can expect in the region is an armed peace. Neither Egypt nor
Jordan capitalized on their peace treaty with Israel to reduce defense spending.
Syria used the money received from the Saudis for good behavior in 1991, over
$1 billion, to buy arms, despite the Madrid peace process.45 Armed peace also
characterizes inter-Arab relations. No Arab state feels that all of its borders are
safe and each harbors suspicions of its neighbors. Indeed, all of Israel’s Arab
neighbors have legitimate security concerns in regard to their other neighbors.
Israel, too, despite the reduction in threat perception, continues to arm itself.
Even Israeli left-of-center leaders see Israel’s army as the final guarantee for
peaceful relations with its neighbors. In September 1995, Rabin said that for at
least the next thirty years, Israel would have to maintain its military strength.46
Similarly, Barak, who claimed to be a disciple of Rabin, made his general evaluation clear in a speech, well covered by the media, at the National Defense
College in August 1999:
The might of the IDF is the true guarantee to the peace agreements, to our
partners’ abiding by them, and to Israel’s security after attaining peace
treaties. We live in a difficult region and environment, which resemble
neither North America, nor Western Europe. In the Middle East there is no
pity or esteem towards the weak: He who is unable to defend himself does
not get a second chance.47
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The post-Cold War period
Conclusion
Israel’s strategic assessment in the 1990s was dominated by several important
events: the end of the Cold War; the 1991 Gulf War and the missile attacks on
Israel; and the reinvigorated peace process with the Arab world embodied in the
Madrid conference (October 1991), which started a series of bilateral and multilateral negotiations between Israel and Arab countries.
The last decade of the twentieth century was generally beneficial for Israel.
It continued to enjoy the friendship of the US and developed good relations with
countries that once were at best lukewarm. In the region, the alliance with
Turkey buttressed Israel’s position. While the probability of large-scale conventional war was low, existential threats to Israel continued to loom on the
horizon. The nature of the threats and the sources had changed in comparison to
the preceding decade. While the probability of war with the ‘inner-ring’ countries was reduced as a result of the peace process, their capability to damage
Israel was enhanced, primarily as a result of the presence of missiles and unconventional warheads. Long-range missiles allowed the more distant ‘outer-ring’
countries to be more active in their dispute with Israel. The main dangers were
not conventional military defeats, but attacks on its home front with conventional or WMD warheads.
As they face the beginning of a new millennium, Israeli leaders must maintain a vigilant eye on persistent dangers to Israeli security, which despite the
peace process continue to threaten its very existence. Islamic radicalism, Palestinian irredentism, impressive conventional military capabilities in the Middle
East, and nuclearization, in particular, must occupy their thoughts. Therefore,
Israel should continue to ready itself for serious military challenges in the future.
Part IV
The peace process
8
Israeli negotiations with Syria
In June 1967, Israel responded to Syrian ground and artillery attacks on its
military posts and civilian settlements by forcibly capturing the Golan Heights –
the plateau from which the Syrians had for years harassed Israeli settlements in
the valleys below. In December 1981, the Menachem Begin government passed
a law in the Knesset extending Israeli law to the Golan Heights. This law
reflected a substantial Israeli consensus on keeping the Golan, primarily for
security reasons, though history also played a role. By 1995, the thirty-three
Golan settlements were inhabited by some 15,000 people.
Their destiny has become a recent issue in Israeli politics as a result of the
American-sponsored peace process initiated in 1991. Following the Israel–PLO
agreements (1993–94) and the Jordanian–Israeli Peace Treaty (October 1994),
American and Israeli officials continue the search for ‘comprehensive peace’ for
the Arab–Israeli conflict. Syria has been next on the peacemakers’ agenda, and
will attract more attention if the difficulties facing the Palestinian track increase.
The contours of an Israeli–Syrian agreement are already clear and by the time
this chapter is published a deal may have been finalized. Such an accord would
follow the Egyptian precedent: full but staged Israeli withdrawal from the Golan
Heights in exchange for diplomatic relations, a Syrian promise of normalization,
and a limited American military presence on the Heights complemented by other
security arrangements, still to be negotiated. It is an illusion to believe that any
other package is currently available. A take-it-or-leave-it situation awaits the
Israeli public.
Yet, a careful evaluation of this proposed peace package – an endeavor most
Israelis will hardly engage in – leads to the conclusion that on such terms Israel
cannot afford a peace treaty with Syria. Full withdrawal is simply too dangerous
an option for Israel. A realpolitik perspective indicates that in the absence of
Syrian willingness to reach a territorial compromise over the Golan Heights, the
status quo is preferable. This chapter reviews the evolution of Israel’s official
position on the Golan and critically analyzes several assumptions which have
become the common wisdom of the prevalent dovish argumentation in Israel.
After many years of militant rejectionism, including refusal to participate in
the 1973 Geneva peace conference, Syria finally agreed to sit down with Israel
at the historic Madrid peace conference in October to November 1991. This
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decision reflected President Hafiz Assad’s accommodation to changing international realities. Syria had just lost its Soviet patron and feared, more than ever,
the new hegemonic power of the United States.1 Following the crushing
American defeat of Iraq in the 1991 Gulf War, Syria entered into bilateral negotiations with Israel without insisting on the fulfillment of its long-established
preconditions: the framework of a binding international conference and an
Israeli prior commitment to withdraw from the territories captured in 1967.
These tactical concessions were made to please the Americans, but on substantive issues Syria remained as adamant as before. Furthermore, it refused to
participate in the multilateral track of the negotiations initiated at Madrid.2
Israel’s unwillingness to discuss any withdrawal before Damascus specified the
substance of peace; Syria’s refusal to do so and its insistence on dealing with the
territorial issue first; and the American evaluation that any intervention at this
stage of the negotiations was premature, led to an impasse in the bilateral talks.
A change occurred, however, following the Israeli elections of June 1992
when the Yitzhak Shamir-led Likud lost out to the Yitzhak Rabin-led Labour.3
The newly elected government was better inclined to make concessions and
more eager to reach an agreement with the Arabs, the Palestinians in particular,
than was its predecessor. The dovish wing of Labour and its allies in the Israeli
Left – an alliance that dominated the new government – regarded the Palestinian
issue as the most important and urgent to solve.4 Even Rabin, not a part of the
dovish circles, seemed to give priority to the Palestinian track and pledged
during the election campaign that his government would reach an agreement
with the Palestinians within six to nine months.
Nevertheless, during the rest of the year a certain amount of progress was
made in the talks between Israel and Syria. Israel appointed a new head to its
delegation dealing with Syria, Professor Itamar Rabinovich, and for the first
time since Madrid accepted the principle of applying UN Security Council Resolution 242 (which included a withdrawal clause) to the Golan. Taking into
consideration Labour’s platform, which also advocated a ‘territorial compromise’ with Syria, Israel’s new flexibility was not surprising.5 Presumably in
exchange, Assad began discussing the possibility of peace with Israel, though he
remained reluctant to clarify what he meant by the term. These developments
caused a stir, with Israel’s Foreign Minister, Shimon Peres, commenting that
progress was ‘almost sensational’.6 Indeed, in October 1992 Israel even used the
word ‘withdrawal’ in that context, a clear departure from the Shamir government position. Cabinet members, such a Shulamit Aloni, Yossi Sarid and Uzi
Baram, expressed territorial generosity and a great proclivity to accommodate
Assad, although Rabin refused to specify the extent of a possible Israeli withdrawal, or to enter into discussions on security arrangements without prior
knowledge of the kind of peace Syria had in mind. He also insisted that an
agreement with Syria not be linked to other issues. His assessment in December
1992 was that the Syrians were reluctant to make peace in the Israeli sense of
the term (with full diplomatic relations and normalization, for instance), and
were also unwilling to decouple the issue of bilateral relations from other issues
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in the Arab–Israeli conflict.7 Despite the improved atmosphere at the negotiations, the Israeli and the Syrian position reached a deadlock, with each side
expecting the other to make a conciliatory move. Israel’s expulsion of the
Hamas activists to Lebanon in December 1992 provided an excuse for slowing
down the peace process. Furthermore, all sides looked to the new US administration to provide a renewed impetus once it had shaped its Middle East policy.
Not much happened during 1993. Syria remained reluctant to show greater
flexibility on the peace issue, while Israel zigzagged between prioritizing the
Palestinian and Syrian tracks. Eventually, the deal with the PLO materialized
with the Oslo Agreement and the Washington Declaration of Principles (DOP)
in September 1993, taking Americans, Israelis, Palestinians and other regional
actors by surprise. The PLO decision, the analysis of which is beyond the scope
of this chapter, weakened the Syrian bargaining position and catalyzed the
Jordanian–Israeli formal rapprochement. This development also made Israel’s
insistence on no linkage between the Israeli–Syrian negotiations and other tracks
less relevant, eliminating an important issue of dispute. Yet the Syrians suspended bilateral talks following the Israeli–Palestinian DOP. The Americans,
undaunted, continued to play the mediator role: Secretary of State Warren
Christopher convinced Assad in December 1993 to renew the dialogue with the
Israelis; and even helped to open up a new channel of communications – secret
talks between the ambassadors of the protagonists in Washington.8
In January 1994 the Assad–Clinton summit took place. The Americans were
greatly satisfied as they were led to believe that Assad was ready for peace,
Israeli-style, and the Syrian leader publicly announced his commitment to peace
in terms of a strategic decision. The Israelis were less impressed, but Rabin
immediately announced his intention to hold a referendum in case a significant
withdrawal on the Golan would be needed to clinch a deal with Syria. This
unexpected move seemed to extend his freedom of maneuver both vis-à-vis
Syria and at home. If concessions were to be offered, the referendum was a good
device to overcome parliamentary opposition and to parry criticism in his own
party. By then, Peres and his deputy, Yossi Beilin, were openly advocating a
withdrawal from the Golan.9 Rabin gradually edged toward a similar position.
Despite the Syrian resuspension of its talks with Israel in February 1994
(following the Hebron massacre) and its persistent rejection of Israeli requests to
upgrade the political level of the negotiations, Israel continued to try to induce it
to an agreement. In April 1994, at the TAKAM kibbutz movement convention
(including representatives of the Golan kibbutzim), Rabin declared that he
favored evacuation of settlements from the Golan due to the supremacy of peace
over a few settlements and the urgency to reach peace with Syria within a year.10
In May, the New York Times reported that Israel had offered to withdraw from
the Golan Heights in three phases, over five to eight years in return for peace
with Syria and normal relations. Israel also demanded the stationing of international monitors on and the demilitarization of the Golan and neighboring parts
of Syria.11 During the summer of 1994 the Israeli offer of full withdrawal
became more explicit. Peres declared that ‘Israel has accepted the Syrian
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sovereignty on the Golan Heights on many occasions’.12 No denial or rebuttal
came from the Prime Minister’s office. It was leaked a few days later, however,
that the Egyptian–Israeli peace treaty was to be the model for the Syrian track.13
This meant, inter alia, that the full withdrawal could take place within three
years. Indeed, the Chief of IDF Intelligence, Maj. Gen. Uri Sagie, told the
Knesset Committee for Foreign and Security Affairs on 9 August 1994, following one of the visits to the region by Secretary of State Christopher, that if he
were the Syrian Intelligence Chief he would have concluded on the basis of the
statements coming from Israel that the Israeli government was ready to give up
all of the Golan Heights.14
It remains to be seen whether Assad will accept the notion of peace, as understood by Israel and the United States, though there are indications that he is
grudgingly edging in this direction. Other issues that have yet to be negotiated
are the demarcation of the final border (Israel wants the international border
while Syria insists on the pre-June 1967 border); the scope of the security
arrangements; the depth and timing of the withdrawal stages; and the linkage
between these and the normalization of relations. The Israeli government no
longer demands demilitarization of areas close to Damascus, a reduction of the
Syrian regular forces and the evacuation of Syrian forces from Lebanon. Instead
it insists on a Syrian guarantee to prevent a war of attrition from southern
Lebanon, which implies an Israeli acquiescence in the Syrian occupation of that
country.
The November 1994 mid-term congressional elections in the United States, in
which the Republican Party gained a majority in both Houses, caused a temporary setback in the negotiations. Both Israelis and Syrians had second thoughts
about the wisdom of a deal: a Republican Congress seemed reluctant to compensate Syria, as well as Israel, for the risks undertaken in a peace treaty, and less
willing to station American peacekeepers on the Golan. Christopher’s December
1994 visit to the Middle East seemed to have brought the two sides back to the
negotiating table. They decided to send military experts to Washington to deal in
detail with the security arrangements, and the two Chiefs of Staff even met
there, though there were no reports of any significant progress.15
Furthermore, Rabin, with an eye on the polls and engaged in an electoral calculus, could conclude that a withdrawal from the Golan would cost Labour too
many votes and decrease its chances to retain power in the 1996 elections.16 In
addition, the rise in Palestinian radical Islamic terrorism has increased disenchantment among Israelis with the Palestinian track. The American and Israeli
domestic factors will continue to influence the process. Yet, the most reluctant
player remains Assad, who seems to be in no hurry to regain the Golan Heights
in exchange for normal relations with Israel.
The faulty rationale
The Israeli decision to part with the Golan Heights in exchange for diplomatic
relations and security arrangements is based on several assumptions, none of
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which are very convincing. To a great extent they form the new strategic vision
of the current Israeli leadership and a departure from traditional Israeli strategic
thinking.17
Comprehensive peace is within reach
The attainment of comprehensive Middle East peace – a resolution of all
regional disputes and the ending of the Arab–Israel armed conflict – is the justification proffered for painful compromise with Syria.18 Rabin rhetorically asked
the Golan settlers from the Knesset rostrum, ‘Shouldn’t we try to reach peace?
Should we reject the chance to put an end to all wars!?’19 Yet the notion of a
‘comprehensive peace’ in this region is a mirage. The Middle East lives in a different sociopolitical time zone from the West, even after the end of the Cold
War. The visions of peaceful coexistence in the new international system, which
would seem to be in the offing in North America and Western Europe, are
divorced from the international reality elsewhere, as demonstrated by the violence attending the disintegrating Yugoslavia and the bloody wars conducted in
areas of the former Soviet Union. The visions of comprehensive peace are
distant messianic dreams in the region surrounding the Holy Land.20
At best, Israel can hope to reach accommodation with its Arab neighbors
along the pattern of relations that characterizes the Arab world and the wider
Middle East. No Arab state enjoys comprehensive peace with all its neighbors.
All Arab countries harbor suspicions about the intentions of rulers beyond their
immediate borders and all have legitimate security concerns of some sort.
Indeed, the use of force is still a policy option for many regimes in this region,
Arab and non-Arab alike.21 The conflicts of the past – the Syrian invasions of
Jordan (1970) and Lebanon (1976), the Iran–Iraq war (1980–88) and the
Libya–Chad dispute of the 1980s – provide no historic precedent for a regionwide, peaceful outcome of international conflicts; and the more recent conflagrations, such as the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait (1990), the forced unification of
Yemen by the North (1994), and the continuing Saudi and Egyptian border skirmishes with their neighbors further belie the feasibility of a Middle East European-like environment. Furthermore, the Algiers 1975 agreement between Iran
and Iraq did not prevent the outbreak of war between the two countries, just as
the 1989 Taif agreement did not prevent Syria from subjugating Lebanon.
Moreover, several political leaders adopt far-reaching goals such as the
dismantling of a state (‘politicide’). Lebanon, Kuwait and Israel have been the
objects of politicide campaigns, while Jordan, Saudi Arabia and Yemen are also
candidates for dismemberment. Given the features of Middle Eastern international politics, leaders in this part of the world manage state security by developing and maintaining military capabilities and by manipulating shifting
diplomatic and military alliances. Thus, any Israeli–Arab agreement that fails to
take into account the possibility of future use of force is strategically flawed and
hence dangerous. The emerging Israeli–Syrian deal involving full withdrawal
from the Golan is most alarming precisely because it appears to ignore this
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reality. The Middle East might change. However, a region-wide relaxation of
tensions will evolve only when Arab regimes and societies are ripe for comprehensive peace. This may take considerably more time than promised by the
popular pundits.
Territory has become less important
The prevalent dovish thinking in Israel deems territory as having a diminished
strategic value. It points out that long-range missiles have rendered the desire for
strategic depth and secure borders a strategic anachronism. According to this
logic, the Israeli notion of defensible borders, which in the past emphasized
topography and geography, has acquired a new meaning. Nowadays its main
elements are political: only borders that are mutually agreed upon by Israelis and
Arabs are secure. Hence, Arab acquiescence becomes more important for Israeli
security than the military potential of a particular frontier line drawn on a map.
In such thinking, an Israeli embassy in Damascus would have great political and
symbolic value, and the border agreed upon between Israel and Syria would by
definition be secure.
This is a faulty argument. Germany subjected London during the Second
World War to a ferocious missile campaign and Iraqi missiles poured on Iran
during the first Gulf War. In both cases, missiles extracted a painful cost but
failed to determine the outcome of the armed conflict. Similarly, the Iraqi
missile attacks on Israel and Saudi Arabia in the 1991 Gulf War did not bring
the two countries to their knees. If anything, the latter war demonstrates the
importance of territory in modern warfare. Whatever may be learned from
Desert Storm, it must include the lesson that the tremendous American superiority in air power, which was put into effect for over a month, did not suffice to
dislodge Iraq from Kuwait; an armored ground campaign was necessary to
reverse the results of the Iraqi invasion.
Considering the volatility of the Middle East, the gain of an embassy is not
worth the loss of the Golan Heights and its three military advantages: deterrence, defense and early warning. The proximity of Israeli forces on the Golan
to Damascus provides for deterrence as the Israeli forces can move eastward and
threaten the Syrian capital. Furthermore, the topography of the Golan allows for
the best defense against an armored Syrian thrust toward Israel. The IDF is currently deployed along the highest points of the Golan plateau. The width of the
Golan Heights, some 24 km, is not particularly impressive, but it still allows for
a defensive line that cannot be easily breached, and provides Israel with an
invaluable breathing space to mobilize its reserves in the event of a surprise
attack. This is the most feared scenario as vital areas within Israel in its pre-1967
borders lie in immediate proximity to the Golan and their conquest would be a
terrible blow to Israel. Last but not least, Israeli intelligence facilities stationed
on the Hermon Mountain and several Golan cliff tops peer deep into Syria and
provide important information on the Syrian military modus operandi and strategic early warning of Syrian military movements. The strategic advantages
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conferred on Israel by its presence on the Golan explain best the lack of hostilities on this front since 1974.
Security arrangements are unsatisfactory substitutes
It is obvious that the Sinai Desert security arrangements, a 200 km-long demilitarized buffer zone, cannot be emulated on the Golan, which is 24 km wide and
can be traversed by tank in a matter of hours. This is precisely why Israeli negotiators propose additional security measures, such as drastic cuts in the Syrian
order of battle, demilitarized zones deep into Syrian territory up to Damascus,
and an American force on the Golan.
But these Israeli demands are for the time being totally unacceptable to
Syria.22 For one thing, Syria has serious security concerns beyond its confrontation with Israel, notably Turkey and Iraq. For another, its leadership depends on
the considerable military forces stationed around Damascus to preserve the
regime, not to speak of the perceived national humiliation in demilitarizing the
Syrian heartland. But, even if some of the security arrangements were to be
implemented, Israel would lose in terms of defensive capacity and deterrence
power. Although some of the present intelligence assets on the Golan could be
partly replaced by reconnaissance aircraft and tethered balloons, these will be far
more expensive, complex, vulnerable and difficult to operate.
Moreover, the deployment of US troops in the area or the imposition of restrictions on the Syrian military are poor substitutes for Israeli defenses on the Golan
because they require Israel to rely on the goodwill of others. American presence
may indeed reduce the likelihood of infringements of the security arrangements,
but it is not likely to ensure a return to the status quo ante following a violation of
these arrangements. Past American behavior suggests an adaptation to the new
situation by an attempt to minimize the consequences of the infringement, in order
to prevent an escalation to a crisis. The permanence of the military presence is also
doubtful, particularly if American soldiers were to come under attack during their
peace missions. Stationing American troops in the context of a peacekeeping force
could initially cost over $100 million and millions of dollars per year afterwards,
which will not endear Israel to the American taxpayer. Furthermore, American
troops on the Golan can curtail Israel’s freedom of action, and constitute a source
of friction with the US. The presence of UNIFIL units in south Lebanon has had
precisely such effects on Israeli latitude in Lebanon and on the relations with the
countries that contributed to the UN force.
Assad is a man who keeps his word
An evacuation of the Golan by Israel might create a situation of strategic vulnerability which invites aggression. Indeed, the assumption that Assad will keep his
part of the bargain under any circumstances is naive and ignores the long record
of broken Arab promises to each other and to Israel, as well as the fact that Syria
has been the most militant and vitriolic enemy of Israel. The Turks and the
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Lebanese often complain about Assad’s violations of agreements. Even without
paying attention to the particulars of Arabs’ political culture, everlasting commitment is a dubious proposition in the Hobbesian world we live in, where states
keep their commitments only as long as these serve their interests. Finally, Assad
does not strike any of the seasoned observers of Middle Eastern politics as
embodying the stereotype of a British gentleman who keeps his word at any cost
and pursues his interests in accordance with the rules of fair play. Syrian modus
operandi in Lebanon has included assassinations, blackmail, bribery and lying.
Above all, one should remember that peace with Israel is only one option in
Assad’s strategic menu. As a matter of fact, in light of Assad’s ideological predispositions, it is the least palatable.23 Assad has always seen the conflict with
Israel in far broader terms than a question of territory. For him, it involves the
destiny of the Arab nation and its very existence. Moreover, he regards the conflict in long historic terms and is prepared for protracted struggle.24 Therefore,
the commitment to a peace treaty is susceptible to regional vicissitudes (for
instance, Israeli–Palestinian relations) and is questionable if international circumstances change. A violation of a treaty is possible particularly if authoritarian Syria, currently ruled by an Alawite minority, reverts to the unstable
pre-Assad period, when military coups were frequent and confrontation with
Israel was a handy tool for legitimizing the regime. One of the main weaknesses
of such regimes is the lack of an accepted mechanism for leadership succession.25 Hence the political stability Syria enjoyed during the past twenty-five
years – a tribute to Assad’s political astuteness and cruelty – is not to be taken
for granted in the future.
Syria cannot afford to lose the economic peace dividend
As for the economic dividend promised by Israeli leaders in the wake of a comprehensive peace involving Syria, the benefits appear to have been exaggerated.26 Many economists point out that the state of Arab economies does not
provide an appropriate outlet for Israeli exports. In addition, an improvement in
the political atmosphere is only one of the necessary conditions for large-scale
foreign investments: these flow to areas that provide for hefty returns. In the
absence of better market opportunities, a drastic increase in foreign investment
is unlikely.
Equally dubious is the proposition that the rich Arab oil states will bankroll
the Arab participants in the peace process. They have not been outstanding contributors to the nascent Palestinian authority thus far. Their economic situation is
far from rosy, and they are unlikely to bribe Syria into a peace treaty with Israel.
In fact, the Syrian economy has been performing better during the past few years
as a result of oil discoveries and some liberalization measures. This allows Syria
a greater latitude than some Arab states more needy of Western aid.
Nor are the expectations for serious cuts in defense expenditures corollary to
the peace process well founded. The peace treaty between Egypt and Israel did
not lead to such an outcome. The Jordanian–Israeli peace treaty is accompanied
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127
by the sale of American F-16 aircraft to the Jordanian Air Force. The continuous
security concerns of Arab states stemming from threats outside the Arab–Israeli
arena have led Middle Eastern governments to preserve high defense budgets.
Israel needs to stop the attrition war in south Lebanon
Israeli politicians, including Rabin, also justify the proposed deal with Syria on
the grounds of its assured elimination of the bloodshed attending the defense
of Israel’s northern border. Indeed, Syria can curtail to a minimum the activities
of the Hizballah and the rejectionist Palestinian groups against Israel because it
controls large parts of Lebanon and allows the transfer of financial and material
support through its territory to these organizations.
Yet the low-intensity warfare waged against Israel from south Lebanon does
not constitute an existential threat to Israel. It is an irritant which becomes a
political problem for politicians in a society that displays a high sensitivity to
loss of life. Eliminating a minor threat such as that posed by the Hizballah in
exchange for the Golan Heights, the loss of which might develop into an existential threat considering the quantity of Syrian armor and firepower, makes
little strategic sense. Formal acquiescence in Syria’s control of Lebanon and
possibly in a Syrian military presence close to the Israeli–Lebanese border (to
prevent terrorist attacks) is a strategic folly, for no other reason than that it
allows Syria a two-pronged attack option against Israel in the future. Israel’s
goal should be the demilitarization of the Lebanese territory and the removal of
surface-to-air missiles from that country, a move which requires the evacuation
of Syrian forces. This goal is worth pursuing even if it entails increased terrorism from this weak and uncontrollable country.
The status quo is dangerous
If the price of a peace treaty with Syria is too high, maintenance of the status quo
may prove less costly than many fear. With the loss of his superpower patron,
Assad is not likely to sustain a full-scale war against Israel. The recent Palestinian
and Jordanian accords with Israel indicate that Syria can no longer veto diplomatic developments in the Arab–Israeli arena, even with regard to weak Arab
actors. Assad’s obstructionist capability, though not negligible, is in decline. He
can assassinate Arab leaders who do not ‘coordinate’ their moves with him, plot
against their regimes, turn on the heat in Lebanon or start a war of attrition on the
Golan, but Assad can no longer lay claim to a ‘final arbiter’ or ‘spoiler’ status.
Yet the current status quo on the Golan Heights will not be easily challenged
militarily by the Syrians as long as the Americans believe that Israel is conducting the negotiations bona fide. Israeli demands for a foothold on the Golan have
a good chance of being perceived in Washington as reasonable. Many American
Generals and Congressmen have publicly stated their support for a continued
Israeli presence on the Golan Heights. Under such circumstances, the Syrian
options to harm Israel are limited, though Assad can use force to raise the cost to
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Israel of maintaining the status quo. In this respect, the ability of the Israeli
public to bear pain and persevere is critical. Israeli society has become warweary. But in contrast to an aversion to policing Palestinian-inhabited regions,
public opinion polls show that a vast majority of Israelis prefer to keep the
Golan, even at a cost.
Furthermore, Israel can enhance its deterrent power vis-à-vis Syria by
strengthening its relations with Turkey, an old-new key Middle Eastern player
that shares many strategic interests with Jerusalem. Israel can also signal greater
determination to resist Syrian pressures by hardening its military posture in
Lebanon. For several years Syrian targets within Lebanon have been immune to
Israeli attacks, despite turning a blind eye to Hizballah attacks on the Israeli
security zone in southern Lebanon and on Israeli settlements along the northern
border. It should be made crystal-clear to Damascus that violation of the status
quo will be very costly. Although Assad’s capacity to tolerate punishment may
be high, he is not insensitive to cost.
As far as the argument goes that Syria will never relinquish a part of its territory, it is noteworthy that Syria still claims the Alexandretta province from
Turkey (handed over by the French in 1939) but dares not militarily challenge
the status quo in light of Turkish firmness and military superiority. Nor does the
border dispute preclude Syria from engaging in diplomatic and economic relations with its northern neighbor.
Quite doubtful is the claim by Shimon Peres and others that only peace with
Syria will cement the peace process and pave the way for Israel’s integration in
a region that has, in the past, rejected it and treated it as an alien implant.27 If
anything, the fragmentation in the Arab world has allowed conflictive or cooperative relations with Israel of varying intensity in the past, and there is no reason
to believe that Egyptian, Jordanian, or even Palestinian basic policy toward
Israel will change if no Israeli–Syrian peace treaty is signed. Even without such
a treaty, several Arab countries (Morocco, Tunisia, Oman and Qatar) have established diplomatic relations with Israel. Even Iraq and Libya have made overtures
to Israel with an eye on Washington.
Conclusions
The current Israeli government seems intent on relinquishing control over the
Golan Heights in exchange for a peace treaty with Syria and still undefined security arrangements. This is a major break with Israel’s traditional insistence on
keeping at least part of the Heights. The main reason for the policy change is the
adoption of a new security paradigm. Yet realpolitik, not misguided liberal
notions and Wilsonian dreams, must remain the conceptual prism through which
Israel maintains its survival in the Middle East and formulates its modus operandi
in seeking tension reduction with Arab countries. There is insufficient reason to
solicitously court a weakened and unrepentant Syria, which has joined the peace
process primarily to please Washington. Certainly not at the going price. The
status quo seems a much more sensible option, at least for the foreseeable future.
9
Islamic extremism and
the peace process
This chapter offers a strategic analysis of the effects of Islamic extremism in the
Middle East on the peace process between Israel and the Arab world.1 Islam is
one of the world’s great religions, having greatly contributed to all aspects of
human society. The subject of this chapter, however, is the political consequences of a specific version of Islam, the radical, which is not the most
prevalent, though certainly a source of danger. As a student of international relations, rather than sociology of religion or Arab culture, I will take the liberty to
make a few generalizations. I follow the English author, Ben Jonson, who
observed, ‘The fact of twilight does not mean you cannot tell day from night.’
Therefore, I will discuss the political implications of a variety of radical Islamic
political entities, focusing on their policy advocacy and capabilities, rather than
on their social and theological differences.
In the Middle East, the following Islamic entities are involved in campaigns
of varying degrees against Israel and the peace process: Iran and Sudan; opposition groups in countries such as Egypt, Jordan and Turkey; and organizations
engaged in direct armed conflict with Israel, such as the Hizballah in Lebanon,
and the Islamic Resistance Movement, better known as Hamas, and the Islamic
Jihad in the Land of Israel (Palestine). While different in many aspects, these
actors share a commitment to imposing Islamic law (Shari’a) in their countries,
and to demonstrating a principled or religiously motivated opposition to the
existence of Israel and the continuation of the peace process. Furthermore, all
are known to support or condone extreme and violent methods to achieve their
goal. Their emergence is little connected to Arab–Israeli relations, though
enmity toward Israel certainly enhances their general appeal. Islamic extremism
and those who espouse its ideas are responses to the failure of Arab regimes and
societies to cope with the challenges of population growth, urbanization and the
management of resources. Indeed, domestic issues are prominent on the political
agenda of the proponents of radical versions of Islam, although they maintain a
revisionist international outlook.2
First, I will discuss the negative attitudes of Islamic radical groups toward
Israel and the peace process. Next, I present an assessment of the long-run
potential of the Islamic radicals, as well as their present politico-military capabilities to harm the peace process. I will focus on the capacity of the Islamic
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radicals to subvert or to intimidate the pro-peace Arab regimes, to wage war and
to develop nuclear threats. The chapter ends with some observations on how the
activities of Islamic extremists influence the ongoing political debate in Israel on
the future of the peace process.
Predispositions and goals
Islamic writings, as with holy texts of a religion, can be used for a variety of
political purposes. In the case of Muslim extremists, Islamic texts are used to
justify the theological rejection of the notion of a sovereign Jewish state in the
geographical confines of the Islamic world (Dar-Islam).3 It is true that, in
general, Muslims treated Jews whom they ruled benevolently, but this historic
precedent does not relate to the emergence of a sovereign Jewish state. For the
extremists, such a state is religiously unacceptable and constitutes an affront to
God’s worldly order. For example, in its covenant Hamas presents the ArabIsraeli struggle not in national or territorial terms, but as a historically, religiously, culturally and existentially irreconcilable conflict between Islam and
Judaism, between truth and falsehood.4
These negative attitudes toward the Jewish state in particular, and Jews in
general, are supported by anti-Jewish statements found in the Koran and
in classic Islamic texts. A Koranic example of such a sentiment may be found in
Sura (2:58): ‘And abasement and poverty were pitched upon them [the Jews],
and they were laden with the burden of God’s anger; that, because they had disbelieved the signs of God and slain the Prophets unrightfully; that because they
disobeyed, and were transgressors.’5 This verse has served occasionally for the
depiction of Jews in negative terms. Jews were described as traitors, breakers of
agreements and distorters of sacred texts. For example, in the fourteenth century,
a religious decree (fatwa) reiterated the notion that the Jews were the enemy of
God since they were ‘branded with the marks of wrath and malediction of the
Lord . . .’. In addition, the famous historian Ibn Khaldoun, living in the same
century, claimed that the Jews were infected with corruption and deceitful plotting.6 Nowadays, Hamas leaflets refer to the Jews as the brothers of apes, the
killers of prophets, bloodsuckers, the descendants of treachery and deceit, who
spread corruption in the land of Islam.7 Shaykh Mohammed Fadlallah, the spiritual leader of Hizballah, said that ‘the struggle against the Jewish state, in
which all Muslims are engaged, is a continuation of the old struggle of the
Muslims against the Jews’ conspiracy against Islam’.8
Another important element of the weltanschauung of Islamic extremists is
their antagonism toward the West.9 Peoples colonized by the West generally
tend to feel a mixture of resentment and envy toward their previous rulers.10
Radical Islamic ideology, in particular, displays great hostility toward the West,
its culture and values.11 According to Bernard Lewis, ‘Islam was never prepared,
either in theory or in practice, to accord full equality to those who held other
beliefs, and practiced other forms of worship.’12 Islamic fundamentalists are
confident that their struggle is for the glory of God, while all their opponents,
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131
Muslims or infidels, are fighting against God. Their anti-Western outlook is also
the result of the belief that the West and its colonialist heritage, as well as its
neo-colonialist presence, are corrupting the Islamic way of life.
Israel, rightly or wrongly, is seen as an alien extension of the West into
the Middle East. Accordingly, the Jewish state is perceived to be a tool in
the Western scheme to dominate the region. Islamic and Marxist explanations
(the latter is still fashionable in certain Arab intellectual circles) converge in portraying Israel as a ‘lackey of Western imperialism’.
In addition to providing for great animosity toward Israel, radical Islamic thinking and fervor support the intellectual framework for protracted conflict, such as the
Arab–Israeli dispute. By arming themselves with a long-range historical perspective, radical Muslims can easily explain current failures as temporary setbacks.
As noted, Islamic extremist groups have demonstrated a great commitment to
achieving prescribed goals with little concern for the methods used. Such attitudes are generally congruent with the rules of the Mideast political game.13 Use
of force between states, as well as subversion against neighboring regimes, is an
acceptable practice. Islamic extremists have displayed a willingness to pay a
high price for their actions, including the loss of many lives. Indeed, jihad, holy
war, is often invoked in the service of goal achievement, and those sacrificing
their lives in the process are accorded martyr status (shaheed) with special privileges in the afterlife.
The objectives of Islamic extremists concerning Israel are very clear. Their
goal is politicide. Coined by the late Yehoshafat Harkabi in the 1960s as a
description of the PLO’s goal to eliminate Israel, politicide denotes the campaign to destroy a political entity.14 For example, the President of the Islamic
Republic of Iran, Rafsanjani, during his visit to France in September 1994, said
that Israel is an illegitimate phenomenon just like the Nazi conquest of France.
He added that the Jews should go back to their countries of origin.15 In reaction
to the September 1993 Washington Declaration, Shaykh Youssouf Alshami of
the Islamic Jihad said that the declaration’s significance was only that a few
Palestinians were allowed to return to their homeland. He said,
The borders of Palestine are from Ras Nakura (at the Lebanese border) to
Rafah, from the sea to the Jordan river . . . did anybody hear before 50 years
about a nation called the Jewish people?! . . . the present balance of power
cannot last forever, and in politics nothing is impossible.16
A Hizballah tract issued by the group’s office in Beirut reads, ‘Our confrontation
with the Zionist entity must end with its obliteration from existence. This is why
we do not recognize any cease-fire agreement, any truce, or any separate or nonseparate peace treaty with it.’17
Politicide is a radical goal, somewhat unusual in world politics, but less so in
the Middle East. In addition to Israel, Lebanon, Kuwait and Jordan have been, or
still are, objects of politicide. In this region, international borders and existing
political entities, which were the creations of British and French colonialism, do
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not command the respect of all Middle Easterners. In accordance with panArabism, which is no less of a transnational ideology than extreme Islam, the
Arab countries must unite into a single political structure. Radical Islam does
not only challenge the structure of a specific state, but the entire Mideast international order.
The Islamic extremists are adamantly opposed to the peace process. This
process involves the recognition of the State of Israel and a formal end to the
state of war between Arabs and Israelis, in order to bring about a qualitatively
different type of relations between the protagonists. The normative aspect of the
peace process, which lends legitimacy to the Jewish state, is probably the most
disturbing from the radical perspective. Indeed, in a move designed to oppose
the October 1991 Madrid peace conference, Iran convened a parallel meeting of
Islamic extremist groups. The purpose of the Islamic conference was to reach a
joint strategy to fight the peace process.
Furthermore, the peace process is anathema because it is American-sponsored
and enhances the American presence in the Middle East. For example, the
Islamic opposition in Jordan boycotted President Clinton’s address to the Jordanian Parliament, following the ceremony of the signing of the peace treaty between
Israel and Jordan. According to Hazam Mansour, the Islamists’ spokesman,
‘Clinton is the enemy of the Arab and the Islamic nation.’18
What Islamic extremists fear is American–Israeli cultural and economic domination of the region, and a subsequent corruption of Islamic values. Because of
the great importance they ascribe to linkages between politics and culture, their
opposition to the peace process and its perceived politico-cultural implications is
high on their agendas.
Indeed, the peace process is in their – mostly correct – analysis an expression
of the zenith of American power in international affairs and an ebb in the political standing of the failing and corrupt secular elites in the Arab world. In their
perception, Israel is being accepted as a fait accompli due to weakness and the
Islamists’ inability to eradicate the Jewish state. The religious radicals are fully
aware of the deficiencies of the current Arab political systems and the consequences for effective action in the international arena.
Yet, precisely because of sensitivity to the political arena, a temporary ceasefire with the Zionist entity, under certain circumstances, is not entirely ruled out by
all Islamic extremists. Rafsanjani, in contrast to Hamanai, the ideologue of the
revolution, declared that, despite the fact that Iran opposes any agreement with
Israel, the Palestinians have a right to decide on this issue, and Iran would not
stand in their way.19 There are even voices within Hamas that call for some accommodation. Musa Abu Marzuk, Chairman of its political executive, said that his
organization is willing to live in peace with Israel if it returned to the 1967 borders,
including with regard to Jerusalem, paid reparations to the Palestinians and held
free elections in the territories.20 In February 1996, Hamas even seemed willing to
enter into cease-fire negotiations with Israel. Indeed, a truce with Israel does not
require too excessive theological creativity. The truce between Mohammed and
the Quraish tribe of infidels – later violated – can serve as a precedent.
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To sum up, Islamic radicals have expressed a strong desire to destroy Israel,
and to obstruct the American-sponsored peace process. While they are ready to
make considerable sacrifices to achieve their goals, there is also a potential for
temporarily adjusting to the prevailing power structure. We will turn now to an
assessment of their capabilities.
Capabilities
This section analyses the ability of the radical Islamic entities to disrupt the
peace process by waging war, engaging in low-intensity conflict (LIC), using
subversion to replace those leaders who are willing to participate in the peace
process or intimidating the ruling elite to adopt anti-peace policies.
Conventional war
The Islamic states do not yet pose a serious conventional military challenge to
Israel, to its neighbors or to the peace process. Sudan is not much of a military
power; Iran is rebuilding its military might, but its ability to project power to the
Arab–Israeli arena is extremely limited for the time being.21
Moreover, neither Iran nor Sudan is territorially contiguous with Israel. This
geographic fact prevents them from waging a conventional, large-scale military
attack, or even a war of attrition against Israel. Furthermore, the fighter airplanes
in the arsenals of the two states do not have the operational range to attack
targets into Israel, and no air refueling is available to extend their range.
Yet, Iran can serve, to some extent, as a strategic hinterland for Syria, despite
the absence of a common border. We may even envision an Iranian expeditionary force in the event of a Syrian–Israeli war. In fall 1995, Iran received
from North Korea the Nodong missile, with a range of 1,000 km. It will allow
Iran to attack targets in Israel with conventional warheads and enhance Iran’s
capability to project power in the whole region, as well as to interfere in the
Arab–Israeli arena. However, despite the rhetoric of the Islamic regime, Iranian
foreign policy has been cautious.22 Therefore, intervention of the kinds mentioned is not very likely and, even if played out, of limited military consequence.
A conventional war by an Islamic state against one of the Arab states which
supports the peace process is also unlikely. The ability of Iran to launch a
ground attack against these neighbors of Israel who signed peace treaties is negligible at best. Iran could project military power in the Gulf area, but an outright
war against one of the Gulf monarchies because it opened diplomatic relations
with Israel is highly unlikely.
The nuclear threat
Radical Islam poses a threat also in the area of missile and nuclear proliferation. Iran is currently attempting to acquire both capabilities to buttress the
country’s hegemony in the Gulf area and to enhance its stature in Central Asia
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and the Middle East. It renewed the nuclear program started in the days of
the Shah but frozen by Khomeini. US Secretary of Defense William Perry
expressed his concern that Iran might purchase or steal a nuclear bomb from
the ex-Soviet republics ‘in a week, a month, or five years – everything is possible’.23 Furthermore, the US was unable to stop the sale of Russian nuclear
reactors and sensitive technology to the Islamic republic. Similarly, the May
1995 renewal of the Nuclear Proliferation Treaty (NPT) regime, which is far
from being a foolproof security arrangement, would hardly constrain the
Iranian efforts in this area.24
In light of the great hostility that Iran has shown to Israel, the possession of
such capabilities may elicit Israeli pre-emptive attacks against the Iranian
nuclear infrastructure similar to the 1981 air raid against the Iraqi nuclear
reactor. Israel has purchased from the United States a number of F-15I jetfighters to allow, inter alia, exactly for such a military option. Such an attack might
heighten Arab threat perceptions and have repercussions for the peace.
Furthermore, a nuclear Iran would also increase the pressures for enhanced
Arab nuclear activities. Revolutionary Iran may decide to be cautious and not
initiate a nuclear duel with Israel, which does not challenge Iran’s hegemony in
its immediate environment. Yet, the incentive for an Arab nuclear bomb is more
of a problem for Israel than a direct Iranian nuclear threat. The absence of such a
bomb was one of the reasons for the Arabs to come to terms with Israel, while
the introduction of nuclear weapons to an Arab arsenal would have a very destabilizing effect on the Arab–Israeli arena. There are difficult problems – technical
and political – in applying the model of the nuclear relations between the Soviet
Union and the US to the Middle East.25
Furthermore, Iranian acquisition of a nuclear bomb would put an end to one
of the common goals between Israel and all Arab states – the prevention of such
a scenario. The fear of nuclear proliferation in the Middle East has been one of
the reasons for several Arab countries to lend support to the peace process,
which includes a multilateral forum on Arms Control and Regional Security.
There were hopes in the US, Israel and in several Arab capitals to use this forum
to treat the issue of nuclear proliferation in the region.26
The successful completion of the Iranian nuclear program would also be an
affront to the US and its perceived hegemonic role in the region and the world.
The American-sponsored peace process may well be affected by a changed
evaluation as to American will and capacity to influence the implementation of
its preferred policies: counter-proliferation and an Arab–Israeli detente.
Low-intensity Conflict (LIC)
The Islamic states do engage, however, in a war by proxy against Israel. They
support LIC operations conducted by organizations based along Israel’s borders
(Lebanon and Gaza) and within Israeli-ruled territories and the Palestinian
Authority (PA).27 Such activities are relatively cheap and therefore not too
taxing for the Iranian, and even the weak Sudanese, economies.
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135
At the end of 1992, Hamas signed an agreement of cooperation with Iran.
The latter committed itself to train Hamas members and to grant the organization generous financial support.28 Sudan also provides training to Hamas and
the Islamic Jihad. Hizballah, in Lebanon, is also under Iranian tutelage and is
allowed freedom of action by Iran’s secular ally, Syria. It fights the Israeli
Defense Forces (IDF) and the South Lebanese Army, and occasionally launches
Katyusha attacks on Israeli border communities. Moreover, in early 1993, Iran
supplied Hizballah with Soviet-made anti-tank Sagger missiles. These significantly increased Hizballah’s firepower and ability to harm Israeli forces and
allies. According to then Israeli deputy Defense Minister Mordechai Gur, the
Hizballah began to fire shoulder surface-to-air missiles against Israeli helicopters in fall 1994.29
The war of attrition in south Lebanon resulted in twenty-three Israeli casualties in 1995 (twenty-one in 1994, twenty-six in 1993, but only thirteen in 1992)
and has become a political burden for the Israeli leadership. Despite the growing
sensitivity to casualties in this sector, Israel’s response has generally been low
key and limited to strikes at Hizballah targets. The Syrians in Lebanon, who can
restrict the activities of the Hizballah, seem immune to Israeli retaliation because
of Israel’s desire to project a moderate image toward the Arab world in order to
advance the peace process. Indeed, high-ranking officers in Israel’s Northern
Command have often complained that the politicians are tying their hands in the
struggle against Hizballah.30
Hamas and the Islamic Jihad specialize in terrorist acts against Israeli military
and civilian targets: shootings, knifings and suicide bombings. They have also
kidnapped IDF soldiers. Terrorist attacks (mostly by Islamic activists) led to
sixty-seven Israeli fatalities in 1994, a 15.5 percent increase from 1993. In a
short period of two and a half years, following the September 1993 agreement,
over 200 Israelis had been killed in terrorist activities. Suicide bombers are by
definition undeterred, a fact which makes defense against such acts all the more
difficult.
A significant portion of the political leadership of these two organizations
currently resides in Syria and enjoys considerable freedom of action there. This
facilitates contacts with Iran, which has had excellent relations with Syria for
many years. The establishment of the PA also enhances their capacity for action,
as long as this new entity is unwilling or unable to monopolize the use of force
in its territory. Indeed, some of the terrorist acts perpetrated by the two organizations were planned in the area under the PA jurisdiction, and the perpetrators
found refuge there. The availability of explosives has also increased since the
arrival of the PLO in Gaza and Jericho.
The main rationale for the terrorist acts of Hamas and the Islamic Jihad is to
keep alive the flames of the Palestinian/Islamic struggle against Israel’s
existence; to defy and embarrass the PA; and to provoke Israel to take harsh
measures against Palestinians under its or the PA’s jurisdiction. Hamas and the
Islamic Jihad also believe that their actions will lead to further Israeli withdrawals, as well as to the derailing of the peace process.
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From a purely military point of view, terror is not a major problem for Israel,
as it does not threaten its basic existence. In the short run, terrorist attacks have a
limited impact on the Israeli economy and society, though it can drastically
change the mood of the country for short periods of time. The political ramifications of such terrorism for Israel are more complex and are discussed in the next
section. The measures needed to combat Islamic terrorism – intelligence and
counter-insurgency – are relatively cheap, particularly if compared to large-scale
military operations that include the use of the air force and armored units. This
strengthens the disposition not to view Palestinian terrorism as a major strategic
problem.
Subversion
Other Islamic groups are actively engaged in subversion against Arab regimes
participating in the peace process. Iran and Sudan lend various forms of support
to Islamic groups everywhere and make the struggle against them more difficult.
The continuous success of the current regimes in prevailing over the Islamic
fundamentalists should not to be taken for granted.
In recent years, Egypt has been under growing pressure from its radical
Islamic opposition. Egyptian Christians (Copts) and foreign tourists have
become the targets of terrorist attacks. Such attacks have spread gradually from
the south to the north, even reaching the capital, Cairo. They have included
attempts on the lives of senior governmental officials, and the Egyptian security
forces have also been increasingly harassed by Islamic activists. The consequences of this campaign were felt in economic and political terms. Decline in
Egypt’s tourism reached an annual loss of $500,000,000. The regime’s overall
stability has been called into question as well.31
The Mubarak regime has undertaken great efforts to contain the Islamic threat
at home, including arresting Islamic extremists en masse, actively hunting down
and eliminating such radicals, and executing those Islamic activists found guilty
of terrorism by the military courts, which have had such matters under their jurisdiction since 1992. Yet, Egypt is plagued with enormous social and economic
problems which foster social unrest and enhance support for the Islamic alternative. The ultimate prerequisite for an Islamic takeover is the ability to infiltrate
Egypt’s army and the security forces, the mainstay of the current regime, and to
organize a successful coup. Egypt, to a lesser extent than other Middle Eastern
states, is a ‘one-bullet regime’. Yet, a successful political assassination could
bring about a succession struggle and political instability. A successful Islamic
revolution in Egypt, the most populous Arab country, would reverberate throughout the region. It would change the Middle East and would probably put an end to
the peace treaty between Israel and Egypt – a cornerstone of the current peace
process.
Such an event in Turkey – although much less likely – would also result in a
political earthquake throughout the region. Notably, the Islamic Welfare Party
(Refah) was very successful during the March 1994 municipal elections. Refah,
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137
which, being well financed and mainly supported by disaffected migrants to
large cities, obtained 19 percent of the overall vote and won control of twentyseven provincial capitals, including the two largest cities, Istanbul and Ankara.
Moreover, in the national elections of December 1995, the Islamic party
received a plurality in Parliament and eventually became part of the governing
coalition.32 In contrast to Egypt, but closer to the situation in Jordan, the Islamic
opposition in Turkey is part of the political system, a position which probably
has a moderating effect.
Hashemite Jordan also faces a strong fundamentalist opposition; the Islamic
Action Front (IAF) is the largest Jordanian opposition group. Thus far, King
Hussein has successfully tamed the Islamic opposition.33 By changing the
electoral rules before the November 1993 elections, Hussein reduced the
Islamic opposition’s parliamentary power from thirty-four seats (received
in the April 1989 elections) to twenty-one in the eighty-seat lower house,
although they maintained their hold on 15 percent of the popular vote. Subversive groups in Jordan, which seek to overthrow the monarchy, include the
Army of Mohammed and the Young Voice of Islam. Their links to the Iranian
regime were established at the trials of their activists. The death of King
Hussein may bring about a period of domestic instability. If the Muslims take
the palace, Jordan would probably revoke its October 1994 peace treaty
with Israel and might become a staging area in a revived Eastern Front.
The Islamic opposition is openly and vehemently against the peace treaty.
Hamza Mansour, its spokesman, even compared the relations with Israel
to AIDS.34
The PLO is also challenged by Islamic opposition, which rejects the Oslo
agreements: Hamas and the Islamic Jihad.35 Significantly, the tensions between
the two have not yet resulted in a civil war, though several clashes between the
PA police and Islamic radicals have already occurred. Hamas is believed to have
a considerable following in Gaza and in the Hebron area; its network of institutions is involved in providing educational, social and religious services.36 Arafat
was not ready to enter a confrontation and has allowed Hamas to keep its arms,
while the latter agreed not to display them in public. While several Islamists ran
for the Palestinian Council in the January 1996 elections, Hamas and the Islamic
Jihad formally boycotted the elections, after which Arafat’s political position
seemed to have improved. He was better able to secure a monopoly over the use
of force in his nascent entity, but continued to prefer cooptation rather than confrontation.37
A series of terrorist attacks in the winter of 1996 reinforced Israeli demands
from the PA to do more to curb Islamic extremists’ freedom of action. As the
Israeli pressures on Arafat to rein in Hamas and the Islamic Jihad continue to
mount, particularly as a condition for the transfer of additional areas to his
control, a showdown between the PA and the Islamic opposition may be in the
offing. If the PA fails to demonstrate effective control over the territory under
its jurisdiction, Palestinians as well as Israelis will question the wisdom of
dealing with Arafat. A politically fragmented Palestinian entity, which is not a
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far-fetched scenario, will place strains on the Palestinian track of the peace
process.
Intimidation
Islamic radicals do not have to be in power in order to harm the peace process.
They can intimidate rulers to refrain from becoming too close to Israel through
the use of several means, including attempts on their lives. We are reminded of
the assassination of Anwar Sadat and the recent attempt to assassinate Mubarak.
Indeed, Mohammed Barjawi, a Hizballah MP in Lebanon, criticized King
Hussein for his peace treaty with Israel and added that ‘there will always be
somebody to assassinate traitors’.38
Even less radical measures can have a harmful effect on the peace process. The
expectations of economic prosperity brought on by the peace process, exaggerated
in any case,39 can be significantly curtailed by Islamic terrorist attacks on Israeli
and/or Western tourists and businessmen in Egypt, Jordan or the Palestinian-held
territories. Instability is not attractive to foreign investment, as demonstrated by
the difficulties the PA has faced in realizing the foreign aid commitments of the
donor countries and enticing foreign investments for Palestinian industries.40 Additional economic setbacks could further complicate matters, as improvements in the
terrible economic conditions in Gaza are an important test of the PLO’s decision
to make a deal with Israel. Without significant advances in the standard of living
there, the impoverished population may withdraw its support for Arafat and opt
for the Islamic opposition.
It is noteworthy that the political leaders in Egypt and Jordan were not
deflected from their diplomatic course vis-à-vis Israel, despite strong Islamic
opposition. Similarly, Turkey has considerably improved its relations with
Israel, showing little regard for the anti-Israeli disposition of the growing
Turkish Islamic movement.
Impact on Israel
A somewhat simplistic analysis of Israeli politics juxtaposes two competing
visions concerning the future of the Middle East and Israel’s road to peace; it is
actually a multidimensional continuum.41 The most famous proponent for the
vision propagated by the Left is Israel’s former Prime Minister Shimon Peres,
who wrote a book about the emergence of a peaceful and economically prosperous new Middle East. He wrote, ‘Instead of visions of blood and tears there will
rise visions of happiness and beauty, life and peace.’42 Accordingly, the peace
process is an important part of this historic process, by including the acceptance
of Israel as a member of the emerging new Middle East. It is argued that the new
strategic reality is more benign than in the past, therefore allowing Israel to
enjoy lower threat perception than in the past.43
The contrasting picture, as seen by the Right, is of a Middle East remaining as
a zone of turmoil:44 unstable and war-prone. The Right points out the unbending
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139
hostility of the Islamic radicals and their rhetoric against the existence of the
Jewish state, which evokes traditional existential fears among Israelis. The Left
makes efforts to dismiss such fears as a failure in seeing the new emerging
reality. The Right also stresses the fragility of the peace treaties and the need to
cautiously evaluate the emerging regional trends, and even to slow down the
peace process with the Palestinians and the Syrians. The Islamists’ determination
to reverse the peace process blends well into these calls for greater caution
regarding the calculated risks Israel is taking in attempting to reach formal peace
agreements. The Right holds that it is possible that these will be violated by Arab
countries under new Islamist leadership.
The Right also warns that the peace process will not bring the sort of economic rewards that the Left promises, and thus it is a mistake to expect political
stability in the Arab world.45 Past attacks on Israeli tourists in Egypt and the
boycott on Israeli products and on contacts with Israelis have reduced the attraction of the peace process in Israel. Similar behavior in Jordan could indicate to
Israel the limitations on its attempts to integrate into the region.
The rebuttal from the Left is that the growing appeal of Islamist groups can
be countered with educational and economic improvement, which will reduce
the support of the poor and deprived for the Islamist platform. The Left also
argues that a reallocation of resources in the Arab world at the expense of
defense expenditures is possible only in the context of a peace process, while
massive foreign aid can be mobilized only if the political climate changes in the
Middle East. Furthermore, the Left in Israel stresses the urgency of successfully
concluding the peace process to pre-empt a possible deterioration in the political
standing of the current Arab leaders who are contemplating peace with Israel.
Their survival is also dependent upon their ability to provide a better life for
their people. Therefore, Israel and the West have an interest in providing economic aid. The emphasis on the importance of economic factors in the peace
process and the developing Middle East is the result of two intellectual influences: socialism and liberalism.46 The Labourite leadership, Peres in particular,
has socialist ideological roots, which have been gradually replaced or complemented by liberal ideas coming from the US.
The terrorist acts perpetrated by Islamic extremists have had mixed effects on
Israel. Over the years, the Jewish state has developed social mechanisms which
routinize the impact of armed conflict.47 This is a cushion which minimizes the
socioeconomic and political repercussions of terror. In the short run, Israeli positions are hardened by terrorist attacks, while in the long run, these attacks have
influenced Israeli public opinion in the dovish direction; that is, a greater willingness to withdraw from Israeli-ruled territories.48 Israeli society has become
war-weary; it is less willing to pay the price involved in the continuation of the
protracted Arab–Israeli conflict. Moreover, increasing terrorism seems to have
elevated the costs of holding on to the territories, and an increasing number of
Israelis consider withdrawal from part or all of the territories to be a positive
step (in the framework of a negotiated settlement). Israelis understand that one
reason for the successful terrorist acts is the accessibility of Israeli cities as a
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result of its control of the territories. It is the Left which claims that separation
between Arabs and Jews by withdrawing from heavily Arab-populated areas
could minimize the chances of successful terrorist acts. In this respect, Islamic
terrorism pushes the Israelis toward greater willingness to part with the territories and to make a deal with the Palestinians. Yet, the emergence of terrorist
havens in PA-controlled zones may lead Israelis to reconsider the direction of
the peace with the Palestinians.
A similar dynamic seems to occur on the Syrian track of the peace process.
Hizballah’s costly war of attrition in south Lebanon is bringing about a softer
Israeli negotiating position, which makes a deal with Syria closer. Israeli sensitivity to casualties pushes the Left to question the need for a security zone in
south Lebanon and to accept a Syrian role in Lebanon. Indeed, Rabin pointed
out that an agreement with Syria is needed to put an end to the costly armed conflict in south Lebanon.49 In addition, hints by the Labourite-led government of
willingness to cede the Golan Heights have eroded the large majority of Israelis
opposing any withdrawal from the strategic plateau.
The cumulative effect of terrorism was one factor which undermined the
popularity of the Yitzhak Rabin-led government, as well as Rabin’s own reputation as ‘Mr. Security’. The government’s initial line about terror casualties
being ‘the victims of peace’ was not well received and was therefore dropped.
Support for the Rabin government had fallen to a record low by the winter of
1995.50 Similarly, the series of terrorist attacks in February and March 1996
brought about an erosion in the popularity of Rabin’s successor Peres; and it
was easier for the Likud to point out the shortcomings of the Labourite
approach toward the Palestinians. Yet, these attacks had only limited influence
on the outcome of the elections two and a half months later (May 1996) – an
eternity in Israeli politics.51
The nuclear threat emanating from Iran, which the Labourite government
has strongly emphasized, has similarly generated mixed responses. The Left
sees in the peace a panacea to all regional problems, including nuclear proliferation. The fear of nuclear proliferation also fits well with the dovish predisposition to hurry ‘before the window of opportunity closes’. Furthermore,
since Israel is relying less than before on unilateral measures and might not be
in a position to eliminate the Iranian nuclear threat on its own, the Labouriteled government hoped to build an international coalition to prevent the fruition
of the Iranian nuclear program. Labourite-led Israel wanted the Arabs to join
the effort.52
While in favor of international action to prevent Iran from acquiring a nuclear
bomb, the Right claims that the Arabs have a good reason to do so without any
Israeli concessions. Furthermore, right-wing politicians are much more skeptical
concerning the effectiveness of an international effort and the American willingness to play a leading role. Therefore, the nuclear specter is another indication
that existential threats still exist. The possibility of a nuclear bomb in the hands
of Islamic extremists is a nightmare for all Israelis. The extremists do not hide
their politicide goal, and there are serious difficulties deterring a determined
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opponent with a low sensitivity to cost.53 The chances of stable deterrence in a
nuclearized Middle East seem to be slim.
Conclusion
Religion is of great political consequence and cannot be easily discarded as a
relic of the past, or a haven of the ignorant and poor. Max Weber was wrong in
writing about the ‘Entzauberung der Welt’, by which he meant that the modern
world is disenchanted and is no longer seeking sacredness. He minimized the
impact of religion. Yet, traditional patterns do not fade away easily. Consequently, what we see today is indeed a new version of the impact of religion
on politics, but much of its underlying logic is going to remain with us and not
disappear. Religion may well be the opium of the people, but Marxist and liberal
thinking, which both underscore the importance of economic factors in domestic
and international conflict, have proven wrong in heralding the politics of reason.
The radical Islamic threat is here to stay and will not disappear as a result of
economic and social engineering by the existing corrupt and inefficient secular
elites, even if much Western aid is poured into the Middle East. The Islamic
fanatics are intent on dismantling the Jewish state, though they cannot presently
do much more than harass Israelis and the supporters of the peace process in
Arab countries. The greatest damage can be done to the Palestinian Authority,
which is the weakest link in the peace process. The potential for great havoc in
the near future exists. It lies primarily in a possible Muslim takeover in Egypt
and in a nuclear device in Iran.
The fortunes of the Muslim radicals are dependent primarily upon the interplay of indigenous developments. Neither Israel nor the West can do much
about the regional environment. Determination to defend the well-being of innocent citizens and vital interests can command the respect of Islamic foes, who
are capable of adapting in the face of superior power. Moderation on their part
regarding Israel, the peace process and the West is a possibility that cannot be
totally dismissed, but this can happen only in a domestic environment which
makes the Islamic radical platform no longer appealing. Only then, a rather
unlikely prospect in the near future considering the tremendous domestic problems confronting Middle Eastern societies, will Islamic extremism cease to be
the threat it constitutes today.
10 Arab–Israeli coexistence
Causes, achievements and limitations
Many welcomed the May 1999 victory of Prime Minister Ehud Barak, in the
hope that it would inject a long-awaited boost to the peace process. Indeed, the
prevalent view among observers and policy-makers is that the peace process is
back on track following the September 1999 Sharm al-Sheikh summit and the
January 2000 renewal of the Israeli–Syrian talks, although they continue to
regard the Arab–Israeli peace process as fragile, with lack of progress endangering regional stability. In March 2000 the mood was again one of concern. Such a
view underestimates, on the one hand, the force of the regional processes that
have pushed the Arab states away from the goal of destroying the Jewish state
toward attempts at solving differences primarily by diplomatic means. On the
other hand, it has unrealistic expectations for further progress in the peace
process and belittles the inherent regional constraints on its development.
This chapter reviews first the main reasons for the entrenchment of Israel in
the Middle East and for the shift toward its greater acceptance as a regular international player in regional politics. The second section argues that the peace
process is quite resilient, and that it has successfully realized most of its potential. The third part clarifies the often forgotten limitations to the peace process
which the strategic and cultural realities of the Middle East impose on Arab
states’ relations with Israel. It concludes by offering a few policy-relevant observations, and especially advises against impatience and diplomatic hyperactivity.
Israel’s acceptance by its regional foes
The visit of Anwar Sadat, the President of Egypt, to Israel in October 1977 signaled a dramatic change in the pattern of Arab–Israeli relations. The Arab world,
in particular, was stunned by the move which recognized Israel as a fait accompli.
The 1978 Camp David Accords and the 1979 peace treaty between Egypt and
Israel were not welcomed by most of the Arab countries or by the Palestinians.
Peace with Israel violated a basic tenet of Arab consensus and challenged one of
the core values in Arab political culture. Therefore, Egypt was for several years
ostracized by its Arab brethren. Yet, Egypt, the strongest Arab country, weathered
the attempts to isolate it1 and after the 1991 Gulf War most of the Arab world
joined it in negotiating peace with Israel. Several factors led to this process.
Arab–Israeli coexistence 143
Futility of attempting to eradicate Israel by force
The most important reason for the peace process was the growing realization by
Arab political elites of the futility of attempting to eradicate Israel by force.
Indeed, since 1973 we see a clear decline in the military intensity of the ArabIsraeli conflict. During the first three decades of its existence, Israel fought and
won four large-scale wars, in 1948, 1956, 1967 and 1973, involving Israel’s
immediate neighbors, as well as expeditionary forces from ‘second-ring’ countries, such as Iraq and Sudan, and even from more remote countries, such as
Morocco. Since October 1973, however, no large-scale war has been fought
between Israel and an Arab country.
After 1979, when Egypt signed a peace treaty with Israel, the Arabs lost not
only the strongest military force to be mobilized against Israel, but also the
ability to wage a two-front assault on Israel (its worst-case scenario). Thus the
destruction of Israel by a successful all-out Arab military conventional effort
seemed no longer to be a practical goal, despite the fact that limited war and
low-intensity conflict were (as was realized earlier), useful tools in bleeding
Israel and in pressuring it into territorial concessions.2
Although the strategic significance of the Israeli nuclear posture in Arab eyes
is not entirely clear, it probably had a sobering effect on the belligerent Arab
states.3 Israel’s nuclear option, coupled with the awareness of Israel’s conventional weapon superiority, certainly constitutes a contributing factor to the strategic calculus which led to the Arab realization that the price of eliminating the
Jewish state by war could be extremely high.
The new links between Jerusalem and Ankara in the latter part of the 1990s
reinforced the notion that Israel is militarily strong and cannot be easily removed
from the map. In many Arab quarters there are considerable apprehensions about
the combined might of the two, which dramatically changes the regional balance
of power in favor of the non-Arab actors.4 The burgeoning Turkish–Israeli economic and military ties have united the two strongest countries in the region,
which further buttressed the position of Israel as a powerful regional actor. This
relationship is resilient and likely to continue, as it is based on a shared view of
the Middle East as a combative neighborhood in which the two countries have a
common list of problematic rivals – Iran, Iraq and Syria.
Changes in Arab countries’ foreign policy orientation
Parallel to the changing evaluations concerning the chances of destroying Israel,
Arab countries have undergone a shift in their foreign policy orientation. They
have moved since the 1970s from various degrees of allegiance to Pan-Arab
ideology to a foreign policy more openly determined by national status interests.
The Pan-Arab longing for supra-state identity and political structure has always
served as a legitimizing mechanism for domestic and foreign policy processes in
Arab states, but has also constituted a constraint in the open pursuit of each
country’s own narrow statist interests. Gradually, Pan-Arabism became less
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The peace process
appealing, and at the same time, Arab states were relatively successful in
strengthening their statist structures and in crystallizing a particular Arab state
identity, whether Iraqi, Jordanian or Syrian.5 Despite the fact that only a few of
the existing Arab states seem to be the right and natural focus of ultimate political loyalty, it is these states that have become the most important arena for
political action in the Arab world.6
This shift in the focus of regional politics has led to a decline in the salience
of the Arab–Israeli conflict and the Palestinian issue, which were central in the
Pan-Arab ethos.7 Indeed, Egypt, after the death of Nasser, the most important
Pan-Arab advocate, moved toward a more Egypt-centered view of regional politics.8 Thereafter, it could concentrate on retrieving the land it lost in June 1967,
without conditioning the return of the Sinai to the resolution of other disputes
between Israel and its neighbors. Moreover, the success of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) in establishing itself as the voice, par excellence, of
Palestinian nationalism, in attracting international attention to the Palestinian
issue, and in acquiring modest freedom of action in the Arab arena, allowed,
paradoxically, Arab states to limit their commitment to the Palestinian cause.
After the PLO reached its own agreement with Israel in September 1993 (at
Oslo), the Arab states had even less of a constraint in dealing with Israel according to their own perceived interests.
Changes in the Palestinian National Movement
An additional contributing factor to the evolution of the peace process is the
changes that have taken place in the Palestinian national movement, whose main
proponent was the PLO. The PLO’s international status and regional influence
peaked in the late 1970s. However, in 1982, the Israeli invasion of Lebanon put
an end to the PLO mini-state, resulting in the removal of the PLO leadership and
thousands of personnel to faraway Tunisia. (No other Arab state was willing to
host the PLO headquarters, indicating the limits to the Arab contribution to the
Palestinian cause.) The distance from Palestine made the use of force against
targets within Israel a more complicated operation than ever before.
The most significant Palestinian action – the Intifada – was not the result of a
PLO initiative. Moreover, the Palestinian uprising in the Israeli-ruled territories
brought a new leadership to the forefront of the Palestinian struggle – the
‘insiders’ – Palestinians who fought Israeli occupation inside the territories.9
They had impeccable nationalist credentials and were less vulnerable to charges
of corruption (of which a large part of the PLO leadership was suspected).
Although nominally subordinate to the PLO, the ‘insiders’ believed that their
intimate knowledge of the Israeli enemy placed them in a better position to formulate the Palestinian national strategy. The ‘insiders’ have infused a greater
sense of realism into the Palestinian national movement in terms of what could
be achieved, as well as a certain urgency in dealing with Palestinian problems,
which also moderated their demands. The influx of Israeli settlers into the
territories and the building of Jewish settlements also led to a realization that
Arab–Israeli coexistence 145
time was not necessarily on the Palestinian side. In concrete terms, these Palestinians advocated accepting Israel in its 1967 lines and negotiating with it to
bring about a withdrawal from the occupied territories. They were instrumental
in pushing the PLO away from its maximalist position, and its refusal to recognize Israel, into adopting a two-state formula. In November 1988, the PLO
finally accepted the UN 1947 Partition Plan (Resolution 181).
A major blow to the PLO was its strategic blunder of 1990. At that time it
allied itself with Saddam Hussein, who chose to champion the Palestinian cause in
order to evoke sympathy in the streets of the Arab world. This move angered the
US and cost the PLO the diplomatic and financial support of many important Arab
countries. Following the 1991 American victory over Iraq, the US convened the
Madrid conference and the PLO had to be content with sending its representatives
within a Jordanian delegation. Moreover, the Palestinians no longer demanded that
a Palestinian state had to be on the agenda and agreed to a two-stage open-ended
process following the outline of the 1978 Camp David Accords, and concentrating
first on achieving an interim agreement. Again, the ‘insiders’ were the moving
force in moderating the Palestinian demands issued in Tunis. The apprehensions
that the leaders of the Intifada, within the Israeli-ruled territories, would take over
the Palestinian national movement, coupled with the deep financial crisis of the
PLO, led Arafat to the September 1993 Oslo Agreement. There, the PLO recognized Israel, renounced the use of force, and promised the cancellation of the
clauses in the Palestinian Covenant which called for the destruction of Israel.10
Growing significance of other threats to the Arab world
An important contributing factor to the peace process was the lesson learned by
Arab leaders that Israel was not the greatest threat to the Arab world. Hommeini’s Islamic revolution in 1979 triggered, for many, memories of another historic enemy to the Arab people – the Persians; others were frightened by the
challenge the Islamic revolution posed to the legitimacy of their regimes.
Indeed, most Arab states allied themselves with the aggressor of the first Gulf
War (1980–88), Iraq, in order to contain the Iranian-Islamic wave. During this
period, the dispute with Israel was secondary.11 The Syrians, who sided with
Iran, were allowed to face Israel on their own in 1982. Even the Palestinian
uprising in 1987 did not elicit much support, as most of the Arab world was
busy parrying the Islamic challenge from Tehran.
An initially ostracized Egypt capitalized on the Iran–Iraq War to regain its
leading status in inter-Arab affairs, without giving in to the demands that it
change its policy vis-à-vis Israel. Its much-needed assistance to Iraq (the provision of manpower, military equipment and instruction), and its association with
the US, the victor in the Cold War, brought Egypt’s isolation to an end. In addition, Egypt’s reintegration within the Arab system made its peace treaty with
Israel more acceptable to the Arab world.
Yet, only a few years later, Arab leaders lived to see their ally make an aboutturn as their fellow Arab, the megalomaniac Saddam Hussein, became intent on
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The peace process
hegemonic pursuits and the attainment of the riches of Kuwait. His appeal to the
masses in the Arab world was not lost on those in power who felt threatened by
the Iraqi actions. The Americans were invited to curtail Saddam Hussein’s
aspirations and eventually to reverse the conquest of Kuwait. President Bush
was adept at building a military coalition to free Kuwait, and Israel did its best
not to spoil the coalition by absorbing thirty-nine Iraqi missiles. Israel, at this
junction, and not for the first time, was aligned de facto with many Arab states.
For years, the potential for an Israeli alliance was well known to the
Hashemites, who shared a common enemy with the Israelis, the Palestinian
national movement, and were aided more than once by Israeli military backing.12
The events of September 1970, when Israel’s military moves deterred an expansion of the Syrian effort to invade Jordan, are the best-known example of
Israel’s support of the Hashemites. Jordan is indeed the closest Arab country
to Israel and even takes part in the Israeli–Turkish alignment. Similarly, some of
the small Gulf states see in Israel a distant power able to play a balancing role in
the region, particularly against hegemonic ambitions.
Domestic politics
Another development facilitating the peace process originates in domestic politics. Growing social weariness toward war has forced the political leadership in
several countries in the region to redefine their national goals. Populations have
grown tired of protracted conflict. This has led to moderate positions and to
greater willingness to discuss the possibility of peace by all nations in the
region. This was a clear factor in Egypt’s disposition to sign peace treaties with
Israel, and influenced the Palestinians to accept more realistic results from their
national struggle. Israel likewise is war-weary and has little appetite or desire to
police the areas inhabited by Palestinians. Precisely for this reason, Israel is no
longer attracted to the notion of ‘Greater Israel’. Hence the redefinition of
collective goals in light of newly perceived realities made it possible for the two
sides to move closer together.
International developments
Certain features of the international system were no less important than
the regional developments in fostering a greater acceptance of Israel. In the
bipolar international system, Israel was aligned with the United States. The
alliance with the US was an important component of Israel’s deterrent power
in regional politics. The October 1973 American airlift to its embattled ally
remained for many years a potent indication of US commitment to the security
of Israel. One important Arab strategic goal for years has been to weaken the
link between Israel and its superpower ally and to deny the Jewish state international legitimacy.13 The overall robustness of the Jerusalem–Washington
relationship and particularly the increased strategic cooperation between the
two sides since the 1980s made the Arab goal of putting a wedge between the
Arab–Israeli coexistence 147
two unrealistic. The campaign to isolate Israel in the international community
also failed.
Moreover, the end of the Cold War was beneficial in strategic terms to Israel.
Arab countries were further weakened by the collapse of the Soviet Union. The
Arabs no longer had the backing of a superpower, thus limiting their military
and diplomatic options. In contrast, Israel continued to be allied with the victor
in the Cold War. The two most viciously anti-Israeli countries, Iraq and Iran,
became the enemies of the US and subject to American sanctions. The fact that
the US emerged as the only global superpower has made the Arab countries
more responsive to American preferences, including the acceptance of Israel.
The Arab world was further weakened politically by another systemic
change – the emergence of a buyers’ market in the world oil economy. Arab oilproducing countries, in particular, lost much political clout due to low oil prices,
while the mismanagement of their economies further reduced their international
standing.14
Indeed, in 1991, in the aftermath of the Cold War, the Americans capitalized
on their victory in the Gulf War and on the trends discussed above by promoting
another attempt at continuing the peace process at the October 1991 Madrid conference. This conference initiated a process of bilateral negotiations, as well as
the participation of Israel and an unprecedented number of Arab countries to
discuss Middle East problems.
The Americans brought the Syrians, the Palestinians and the Jordanians to the
negotiating table in Madrid, primarily on Israeli terms. No preconditions previously demanded by Syria (for example, an Israeli commitment to withdraw from
the Golan Heights and negotiations under the umbrella of a binding international
confidence) were met. Indeed, President Assad of Syria was dragged into the
peace process out of weakness, following the loss of his Soviet patron and the
American demonstration of military might and resolve in 1991. Participation in
the peace process was a Syrian adjustment to a new international reality.15
However, overall, the regional processes and the fluctuating perceptions of the
political leaders in the Middle East have been shown to have more clout than the
global changes and superpower influence. The American efforts to bring about an
Israeli–Syrian accord have thus far failed to achieve concrete results. Similarly,
the American involvement in the Israeli–Palestinian track has had mixed results.
And historically, the main breakthroughs in the Arab–Israeli conflict, namely
Sadat’s visit to Jerusalem and the Oslo Agreement, were not due to an American
initiative and in fact came to them as a surprise, albeit a pleasant one.
The resilience of the peace process
Several regional processes and global dynamics fueled the Arab rapprochement
with Israel. The peace process stemmed basically out of Arab weakness. As long
as the trends enumerated above continue, even in the absence of progress
(usually a euphemism for Israeli concessions), the likelihood of a reversal in the
historic accommodation toward Israel is small. To a great extent, the Arab world
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The peace process
has crossed the Rubicon in accepting Israel’s existence, not legitimacy, as an
almost irrevocable fact, and as a regular international actor in the Middle East.
In many ways, the peace process is over, and has been concluded successfully. Israel has had a peace treaty with Egypt since 1979. A reversal to belligerence is unlikely as long as Egypt holds on to an American orientation in its
foreign policy. In 1994, Jordan formalized its good relations with Israel by
signing a peace treaty. On the Palestinian track, the 1993 Oslo Agreement – in
fact a repartition of Palestine – is being implemented, albeit gradually and not
without difficulties. The contours of the Palestinian state, its borders and degree
of sovereignty remain to be negotiated. The rationale of partition and the establishment of two entities is politically compelling.
Since 1993, the Palestinian national movement has never had so much to
lose – real control over most Palestinians and exclusive rule over parts of their
perceived homeland. The Palestinians have learned from their history that the
lip-service paid by Arab countries to their cause is rarely backed by deeds,
which leaves them almost alone to face the much stronger Israelis. Thus, while
low-level conflict takes place, Arafat seems to be careful so as not to provoke
Israel into a large-scale conflict.
Moreover, Israel, as a whole, has moved in favor of partition of the Land of
Israel. The Likud-led government (1996–99) signed agreements in which land
was transferred to the Palestinian Authority (PA) – the January 1997 Hebron
Agreement and the October 1998 Wye Plantation Accords. The May 1999 election results clearly show that support within Israeli society for the idea of
Greater Israel is minimal (less than 5 percent). Israelis have even reconciled
themselves to the emergence of a Palestinian state. Nevertheless, the changes in
Israeli attitudes do not make an agreement with the Palestinians inevitable,
as even in the case of a Labour-led government there is still no convergence of
views between the two societies, particularly on issues of borders, refugees and
Jerusalem. Indeed, the expectations that the negotiations between a Barak-led
government and the PA on final status issues will be conducted smoothly and
will end within a year or so are not very realistic. Barak has in the past voiced
strong reservations about the Oslo Agreement and several political forces
within his wide coalition are unlikely to support territorial largesse toward the
Palestinians.
On the Syrian track of the peace process, Assad has so far proved unwilling
to move forward. He refused to accept the Golan Heights in exchange for a
peace treaty, which would have required him to open up his closed society and
which questioned his continuous control over Lebanon. This has been the American evaluation, and even Arab capitals recognize, unofficially, that Assad
missed an historic opportunity to make a very favorable deal with Israel.16
Indeed, Rabin offered him the Golan Heights in August 1993 and Peres repeated
the offer in January 1996.17 In all probability, even Netanyahu suggested a
similar deal, but Assad did not bite the bullet.
Barak succeeded in bringing back the Syrians to the negotiating table in
January 2000, but he is even more insistent than Rabin on adequate security
Arab–Israeli coexistence 149
arrangements and he has consistently been critical of Labour’s negotiating
formula that ‘the depth of the withdrawal from the Golan Heights corresponds to
the depth of peace’. His preferred equation has been ‘the depth of withdrawal
shall be equal to the quality of peace and the strength of the security and early
warning arrangements’.18
It remains to be seen if Assad is ready for peace. Possibly, the talks were only
a shield against stronger American and/or Israeli diplomatic and military pressures, but it is remarkable that they have been held at all. In any case, Syria has
only limited potential to obstruct Israel’s acceptance in the region. By now it is
clear that Syria does not have a veto power in regional affairs, as its opposition
to Jordanian and Palestinian attempts to reach separate agreements with Israel
proved futile.
Indeed, even when Arab states complained that a Netanyahu-led Israel violated the agreements with the PA and that he was not generous enough, territorywise, toward the PA and Syria, we see very little inclination in the Arab world to
heed the advice of the radical states to revert to a state of war. Since 1996, Arab
summits have called upon Israel to implement its peace commitments and have
threatened to freeze their relations with the Jewish state. Yet despite the official
rhetoric, in many ways relations between Arab states and Israel are proceeding
well. In October 1999, for example, Mauritania, an Arab League member, even
decided to have full diplomatic relations with Israel. As such, the belligerence of
the status quo ante is thus not a real option in the near future.
The limitations on peaceful coexistence
Israel now definitely has better relations with the Arab world than it did a few
decades ago. This pattern is likely to continue. Yet, there are limits to what
Israel can achieve in its ties with its neighbors. Expectations that Israeli–Arab
relations can emulate the type of interaction characteristic of Western Europe or
North America are totally unrealistic for several reasons rooted in the strategic
and cultural realities of the region.
Power politics in the Middle East
Basically, the old patterns of regional interaction – power politics – have
remained unchanged, despite the removal of the superpower competition in the
area.19 The dreams of a new Middle East are just that. President Mubarak in an
interview to the Israeli press admitted that the vision Shimon Peres propagated
left many Egyptians uncomfortable, reminding the Israeli audience that they live
in the Middle East.20 Indeed, the dominant perception of international relations
among the political leadership of the Middle East, with the exception of a few in
Jerusalem, has remained power politics. This is why Cairo, Damascus and
Baghdad fear the Israeli–Turkish entente.
Moreover, in the Middle East the use of force is still considered an acceptable
and useful tool of foreign policy. Indeed, the region’s Zeitgeist favors violence,
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The peace process
‘where guerrillas are lauded, and peacemakers ridiculed’.21 Even peace negotiations are accompanied by violence. For example, Syria does not desist from
using the Hizballah in bleeding Israel while it engages in peace negotiations
with Israel. The PA is turning a blind eye to Hamas terrorists when it believes it
suits its interests. In September 1996, the PA allowed its soldiers to shoot at the
Israeli army, while Arafat often threatens Israel with a new Intifada if his
demands are not satisfied. Indeed, the emerging Palestinian entity has great
potential for developing into a revisionist and predatory state,22 and Mubarak
and other Arab leaders have repeatedly warned that in the absence of ‘progress’
there will be a violent eruption.
The best we can expect in the region is an armed peace. Egypt, despite its
twenty-year-old peace treaty with Israel, continues to arm itself and has
developed a large and modern American-equipped army. According to some
of its generals, Egypt continues to see Israel as a potential military rival.23
Neither Egypt nor Jordan capitalized on their peace treaty with Israel to reduce
defense spending. Despite the Madrid peace conference, Syria used money
received from Saudi Arabia (for its anti-Iraq stance in 1991), over $1 billion,
to buy arms.24 In fact, armed peace characterizes inter-Arab relations. No Arab
state feels that all of its borders are safe and each harbors suspicions against its
neighbors. Indeed, all of Israel’s Arab neighbors have legitimate security concerns in regard to their other neighbors. Israel also, despite the reduction in
threat perception, continues to arm itself and even leaders on the Israeli Left
see the Israeli army as the final guarantee for peaceful relations with its
neighbors.
Border disputes
Generally, borders in the Middle East, which were drawn by colonialist powers,
still lack legitimacy. This allows for revisionist policies. Syria never recognized
Lebanon as an independent state and was successful in turning it into its satellite. Iraq still has ambitions to annex Kuwait. South Yemen disappeared as an
independent state in May 1994 as it was ‘united’ by force with its neighbor –
North Yemen. A dissatisfied Palestine could become the source for irredentist
claims East and West. Indeed, Arafat’s willingness ‘to sacrifice even the last
Palestinian child for placing the Palestinian flag on the walls of Jerusalem’ and
his repeated calls for jihad indicate the potential for additional demands· and
tensions. As recently as the spring of 1999, the Palestinians renewed their
demand that the Jewish state be confined to the borders of the 1947 Partition
Plan, in accordance with UN Resolution 181.
Non-acceptance of Israel
The acceptance of Israel is far from being internalized by Arab societies.
Notably, many Arab intellectuals and professionals refrain from supporting the
peace process. In stark contrast to their Israeli counterparts (the most ardent
Arab–Israeli coexistence 151
supporters of the peace process), these groups are most critical of the reconciliation with the Jewish state and with a few exceptions boycott any contact with
Israelis. In Jordan, the peace treaty with Israel is pejoratively termed ‘the King’s
peace’. There, as well as in Egypt, professional associations of lawyers, physicians, journalists and engineers impose sanctions on members who dare talk
about normalizing relations with Israel. Public opinion in the Levant clearly
indicates that the peace process is limited primarily to regimes, not societies,25
and despite the fact that Arab states are not democracies, their political leaders
are sensitive to public opinion.26
Although Israel is viewed in less demonic terms than in the past, fears of
Israeli economic domination have replaced the fears of Israeli territorial expansion. For example, the 1994 Casablanca conference, at which dynamic Israelis
displayed eagerness to enter into business ventures with the Arabs, backfired; it
was misconstrued as an Israeli design to control the Middle East by economic
means. Indeed, Israel’s gross national product (GNP) is larger than the GNP of
all of its neighbors combined. Paradoxically, Israel’s efforts to integrate into
the region have also triggered fears of cultural imperialism. Israel is still seen,
not only by the Islamists, but by larger segments of the Arab political and
intellectual elite, as an outpost of the West and its colonial legacy in the
Middle East.
The litmus test of changing attitudes toward Israel in the long run is the education system, where the socialization process of a new generation takes place.
Unfortunately, the school curriculum even in the Arab countries that have signed
agreements with Israel remains unchanged, propagating anti-Israeli views and
rabid anti-Semitic images. The Arab media (usually government-controlled) is
replete with language of hate toward all Jews. In contrast, the Israeli Ministry of
Education has published a unit for Peace Studies to be taught in grammar
schools and searched its books in order to eliminate anti-Arab stereotypes, while
new history textbooks are introduced into the state school system, which show
greater empathy toward the Palestinians.27
The appeal of radical Islam
Another politico-cultural feature of the Middle East which places limits on ties
with Israel is the widespread appeal of radical Islam, particularly in Egypt,
Jordan and Palestine; there, as elsewhere, radical Islamist groups oppose any
reconciliation with the Jewish state. The enmity for Israel and the West is
great.28 In the Middle East, Islamic fundamentalism enjoys great support beyond
Iran and Sudan – the two Islamic republics – in almost every state in the region,
including secular Turkey, and its potential consequences should not be ignored.
For the time being, however, the Islamic radicals have only limited ability to
obstruct the peace process. Egypt and Jordan have not changed diplomatic
course because of the Islamist opposition. Yet the Islamic political influence is a
strong domestic constraint on openly pursuing cordial relations with Israel in
many countries of the region.
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The peace process
Changing circumstances
Finally, the peace process, despite its present robustness, is not necessarily a
one-way historic development. An abrupt change of direction is possible,
although unlikely at this point in time. Scenarios for turmoil include an Islamic
takeover in one of Israel’s neighbors. If this happens in Egypt, the most important Arab country, it would be a particularly terrible blow to the peace process
and to Western interests. Similarly threatening for Israel is the demise of
Hashemite Jordan and its conquest by Palestine, Syria or Iraq. Jordan is a
pivotal state in the quest for regional stability. Its disappearance would allow
for the reorganization of the eastern front against Israel, in dangerous proximity
to the strategic heartland of Israel. The return of Russian influence to the
Middle East could also re-energize the radical forces in the region. The realization that change can happen suddenly in the Middle East dictates much caution,
which further slows the process of rapprochement between Israel and the
Arab world.
Conclusion
The first policy-relevant observation concerns the well-intentioned policymaking community, which feels an urge to do good in the Middle East. The situation in the Arab–Israeli conflict has improved considerably, but cannot improve
much further. Even if the evolving peace process were to stay its course, the
attainment of the types of relations we see among democratic countries may take
generations to develop in the Arab–Israeli arena. The security dilemma of all the
states in the Middle East dictates that their relationship with their neighbors take
the form of armed peace. While the mere nature of politics (the pursuit of
national interests) makes Israeli participation in interstate interactions easier, the
religious and cultural dimensions of the Arab–Israeli conflict are less amenable
to quick change. The recommendation for the diplomats, chasing after dramatic
foreign policy successes, is to look elsewhere.
Second, foreigners have limited leverage, while the locals have underestimated power to block extra-regional initiatives. Almost all American initiatives
to settle the Arab–Israeli conflict have ended in failure. Breakthroughs have
belonged to the regional actors and progress comes to fruition only when they
are ready for it. The US can play a positive role in compensating the parties for
the risks taken, but it cannot impose a Pax Americana. It can also engage in
damage limitation when violence erupts. More importantly, America has little to
gain nowadays from investing much more energy in an unattainable comprehensive settlement between Arabs and Jews. Actually, year 2000, an election year,
could be a good American pretext for not doing anything dramatic and foolish in
the Middle East.
The third observation revolves around the time factor. The peace process
evolved over two decades, as a result of a number of regional developments, primarily the entrenchment of Israel as a strong military and economic power
Arab–Israeli coexistence 153
linked to the US, the winner of the Cold War. De-escalation in protracted disputes takes time, and there may be temporary setbacks. Much of the impatience
displayed in several quarters, particularly in the West, seems to be ignorant of
the pace involved in historic processes. As long as the direction of the regional
and international factors that moved the Arab world into acceptance of Israel is
unchanged, the peace process can be considered as viable, and even robust,
despite the fact that not all issues have been satisfactorily resolved. Therefore,
the widespread feeling of urgency is unwarranted.
Fourth, Israel’s leverage versus the Palestinians and other Arab actors is considerable. Only recently did Arafat desist from unilaterally declaring a Palestinian state as a result of Israeli threats. Indeed, Jerusalem can use carrots and
sticks to achieve its foreign policy goals. Moreover, it can wait for a better offer
in its negotiations with its neighbors. In retrospect, the Arabs have changed their
positions more than the Israelis. So far, time has been on the Israeli side and
there is little to suggest that the time vector is changing course.
Finally, we must remember that power-politics considerations led Arab political elites gradually to accept Israel as a fait accompli. The realpolitik outlook
on international relations is going to persist in the Middle East. A strong Israel
is, therefore, a prerequisite for the peace process. Weakening it harms that
process.
Part V
The new strategic partners
11 Israel’s new strategic partner
Turkey
Since Turkey upgraded its diplomatic relations with Israel to ambassadorial
level at the end of 1991, the two states have exchanged many high-level state
visits. Bilateral trade has grown significantly and the volume of civilian
exchanges (tourist, academic, professional, sporting and cultural) has increased
dramatically. Most indicative of the emergence of a special relationship is the
signing of a series of military agreements between the two states, which led to
close cooperation between the two defense establishments.
The present Turkish–Israeli entente constitutes a departure from the historic
reluctance on the part of modern Turkey to be entangled in Middle Eastern affairs,
given its aim to buttress its ties with the West and to strengthen its European identity. The Kemalist regime largely saw Islam and the Arab culture as a barrier to
modernization. Moreover, the desire to avoid unnecessary conflict required minimizing interactions with the war-prone Middle East.1 Therefore, Turkey preferred
low-profile relations with Israel. Moreover, it did not want to burden itself with
links to a regional pariah and thus, with the exception of a short period in the late
1950s, was unresponsive to Israeli overtures. In the 1970s, the dispute with Greece
over Cyprus and the world energy crisis provided additional reasons for Turkey to
court Arab and Islamic countries and to keep Israel at arm’s length.
For its part, Jerusalem has always desired good relations with Ankara, a proWestern regional power in its vicinity. Moreover, cordial relations with an
important non-Arab Muslim country such as Turkey could have contributed to
the diluting of the Islamic religious dimension in the Arab–Israeli conflict. As
early as the late 1950s, Israel made serious efforts to develop good relations with
countries such as Turkey, on the periphery of the Arab Middle East, in order to
escape the immediate ring of Arab hostility around Israel.
Yet only in the 1990s has Turkey changed its policy toward Israel. The
entente with Israel was part of a reorientation of Turkey’s foreign policy following the demise of the Soviet Union. The new foreign policy was characterized
by a high-threat perception and by greater assertiveness than during the Cold
War. It also meant a greater involvement with the Middle East. Relations with
Israel were considered useful in facing Turkey’s new security challenges, and
the strategic glue between the two states is based on a similar outlook on
regional and international affairs.
158 The new strategic partners
Turkey returns to the Middle East
In contrast to most Western countries, Turkey emerged from the Cold War with
a sense of high-threat perception, which is more typical of countries of the
Middle East than of Europe. It perceived itself to be encircled by many areas of
instability and threatened by dangerous neighbors. Moreover, the internal threat
to the integrity of the Turkish state as a result of the Kurdish insurgency, which
was supported by Turkey’s neighbors, was very vivid during the 1990s. These
developments led to a widespread fear in Turkish political and military circles of
being engulfed in international crises and military conflicts.2 Moreover, after the
elimination of the Soviet threat, Turkey’s membership in NATO, the Western
military alliance, seemed to be less relevant to its new security environment. Turkey gradually realized that NATO would not always provide
effective responses to the security challenges emerging in Turkey’s immediate
neighborhood.
Parallel to the high-threat perception and the perceived need to devise appropriate responses, Turkey started to consider itself an important actor in global
politics, which was a departure from a more modest past self-perception. In the
1990s, Turkey aspired to become more active in the international arena as a
result of the changes in its geostrategic situation, a redefinition of Turkey’s role
in world politics, and the new opportunities for extending its influence in the
former Soviet republics in Central Asia and the Caucasus.3 Foreign Minister
İsmail Cem and the Turkish foreign policy elite (bureaucrats and politicians)
started to articulate a vision of Turkey as geographically situated at the center of
Eurasia and exerting a transcontinental political influence.4 The underlying
implication of the geopolitical ‘Eurasia’ concept was the centrality of Turkey in
world politics. Turkey portrayed itself as a stabilizing force in its periphery and
also regarded itself as the corridor for the passage of energy resources from the
Caspian Basin and Central Asia to the Western world. The new activism and
self-perception as an important actor in world politics was balanced, however,
by traditional caution, as well as by limited resources.
One aspect of the new Turkish assertiveness is its growing activism in the
Middle East. In the past, Turkey preferred not to be entangled in Middle Eastern
disputes, and its foreign policy to this region has largely been reactive and noninterventionist. The relations with its Middle Eastern neighbors have been tense,
if not overtly hostile. Despite this reluctance to engage the Middle East, Turkey
is linked to the Middle East by history, religion and geography. Islam still plays
an important role in Turkey’s culture and identity, while Turkey shares almost
60 percent of its total land borders with Middle Eastern countries: Iran, Iraq and
Syria.
Thus, Turkey’s detachment from Middle Eastern international politics has
never been complete. During the energy crisis in the 1970s Ankara intensified its
relations with Arab countries in order to secure oil on convenient financial
terms, to attract petrodollars for investment, and to increase exports to oilproducing countries. The 1979 Islamic revolution in Iran led to an increase in
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Turkish threat perception and the tensions between the two states increased. In
the late 1980s, Turkey had to face a number of additional Middle Eastern challenges: the Kurdish problem and the water disputes with Iraq and Syria over the
waters of the Euphrates and Tigris. The Kurdish problem has essentially been a
Middle Eastern one, as the Kurds are spread beyond Turkey, primarily in Iran,
Iraq and Syria.
International events in the aftermath of the August 1990 Iraqi invasion of
Kuwait reinforced the perception among Turkish policy-makers that their
country cannot disengage itself from the Middle East, even should it wish to do
so. Turkey paid a heavy economic price for the military campaign against Iraq
and the subsequent sanctions regime. The creation of a Kurdish-controlled safe
haven in northern Iraq in March 1991, protected by the United States and its
allies, complicated Turkey’s Kurdish predicament. Above all, Ankara feared the
disintegration of Iraq and the emergence of an independent Kurdish entity in
northern Iraq, adjacent to Turkey’s southeastern border.5 Moreover, since 1991,
the disputes over water rights with Iraq and Syria intensified with the opening of
the large Atatürk Dam. Baghdad and Damascus have seen this project as allowing Turkey to control the water flow to the downstream riparian countries.
Gradually, Turkey began to see itself as a Middle Eastern player. For
example, a senior analyst argued, ‘Turkey is the strongest military and economic
power in the Middle East.’6 Turkey also wanted to take a part in the Arab–Israeli
peace process. It looked for a role in the multilateral talks begun after the
October 1991 Madrid peace conference, sent observers to the international force
to monitor the Hebron Agreement (January 1997) between Israel and the Palestinian Authority (PA), and offered its services to facilitate negotiations between
Israel and the PA.
Moreover, Turkey displayed an unprecedented willingness to employ military
force in Middle East scenarios. In 1990, Turkey concentrated troops along the
Iraqi border parallel to the massive American deployment south of the Kuwait
theatre. In the 1990s, Turkey invaded northern Iraq several times to fight the
Kurdistan Workers’ Party (Partiya Karkeren Kurdistan-PKK). In October 1998,
it threatened Syria with a military confrontation and forced Damascus to oust the
leader of the Kurdish insurgency, Abdullah Öcalan. Two months later, Ankara
was also successful in coercing Cyprus not to deploy Russian-made S-300
surface-to-air missiles on the island. In October 2001, Turkey sent military personnel to Afghanistan to help the US-led effort to fight the Taliban regime and
Osama bin Laden’s al Qaeda organization after the latter’s September 11 terrorist attacks on the United States.
The rapprochement with Israel
One element in Turkey’s foreign policy reorientation and its new approach to
the Middle East has been better relations with Israel. A gradual reassessment
process of Middle East policies began within the Turkish Ministry of Foreign
Affairs as early as the late 1980s.7 Then, Turkey’s low-level relations with Israel
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and its consistent pro-Arab voting record at the UN were evaluated against an
appraisal of the role of Israel in the region and the possible benefits to be
accrued from becoming closer to Jerusalem. This led to a quiet upgrading of the
level of the diplomatic personnel representing the two countries, which culminated in the decision to raise relations to ambassadorial level at the end of 1991.
A parallel reassessment of the policy toward Israel took place in the Turkish
military, which led to a clear preference for closer ties with the Israeli defense
establishment and its military industries.8 Turkey discovered that its views of the
emerging strategic environment overlapped in many ways with Israeli perceptions, an issue addressed in the next section.
Upgrading relations with Israel was also facilitated by the disappearance of
several inhibiting factors. First, a change in the trends in the political economy
of energy sources lessened the political leverage of the Arab bloc, and of the oilproducing states in particular. By the end of the 1980s, the substantial subsiding
of fears of energy crises had diminished the weight of Arab objections to better
relations with Israel.
Second, the Arab–Israeli peace process, reactivated by the Americans in the
aftermath of the 1991 Gulf War, further marginalized the objections of Israel’s
regional enemies to third-party ties with Jerusalem. The October 1991 peace
conference in Madrid, a formal gathering with Israel to which almost all Arab
countries sent senior diplomatic delegations, served as a convenient pretext for
formalizing the Turkish interest in a closer relationship with Israel.9 This was
true of other countries, too. For example, China and India, both major international players, also capitalized on the changes in the oil market and the better
Middle Eastern atmosphere to establish full diplomatic relations with Israel.
Similarly, Moscow renewed its diplomatic ties with Jerusalem in 1992, as well
as with countries previously in the Soviet orbit. The 1993 Oslo agreement
between Israel and the Palestinians reinforced the trend to normalize relations
with an increasingly important international actor, intended to tap Israel’s
advanced technologies and to profit from Jerusalem’s close links in Washington.
During 1992 and 1993, Israel was surprised at the Turkish desire to build a
close relationship in the diplomatic and military spheres. Yet, Israeli diplomats
immediately sensed the great opportunity and rose to the challenge by becoming
a most willing and active partner.10 From an Israeli perspective, the November
1993 visit of Foreign Minister Hikmet Çetin, after several delays, was the diplomatic turning point. It was the first time a Turkish foreign minister had visited
Israel. A stream of high-level Turkish dignitaries followed, including prime ministers, defense ministers and foreign ministers, as well as President Süleyman
Demirel. The Israelis responded in kind. By the end of the 1990s, high-level
visits by both sides became a routine affair.
Israel was generally pleased with the Turkish involvement in the peace
process. Turkey also helped Israel in the diplomatic arena, particularly in
Islamic forums. Moreover, Turkish official statements concerning Israeli policies (on the use of force, settlements and Jerusalem) and its UN voting behavior
were less critical during the 1990s than had previously been the case.
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Political relations were complemented by the intensification of cultural ties.
In the early 1990s, Israel’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs actively encouraged and
subsidized Israeli cultural and academic forays into Turkey. National museums
exchanged exhibitions, and relations in the area of sports greatly improved.
Generally, each country became more interested in learning about the other,
which was reflected in a greater volume of media coverage, mostly positive.11
The August 1999 earthquake in northwestern Turkey that claimed more than
17,000 lives consolidated ties between the two countries as Israel provided
prompt and large-scale aid. The Israeli rescue team saved scores of lives after
the quake, instilling in many Turks a belief that existed already in the political
spheres – that a strong Israeli–Turkish alliance could benefit both countries.
The 1990s also witnessed a considerable increase in economic exchanges
between Israel and Turkey, as the political restraints originating in Ankara were
relaxed. While bilateral trade totaled $54 million in 1987, the figures rose to
$100 million in 1991 and to $1.1 billion in 2000. Another facet of the economic
relationship is Israeli tourism to Turkey, which has also increased enormously.
Israeli entrepreneurs consider using Turkish partners to penetrate Arab markets
more effectively. In turn, Turkey has acquired better access to the American
market, since Israeli firms process Turkish products and re-export them dutyfree to the United States.
Turkey is also eager to export water to Israel, whose meager resources will be
increasingly depleted by fast-growing demand. Water import had become an
urgent issue in Israel by 2001 following several years of draught, and in April
the Israeli government signed a ten-year agreement to purchase fifty million
cubic meters of water annually. Water import is viewed primarily as an interim
solution before desalinization, the preferred option, is operational. Israel, like
other Middle Eastern states, prefers not to be water-dependent on outsiders.
The economic aspect of the bilateral relationship is important, and the
growing volume of bilateral trade has been matched by a relative decline in
Turkey’s trade with Iran and Arab countries. Yet, Turkey and Israel understand
that their bilateral trade is only a small fraction of their total foreign trade (less
than 2 percent), and that the well-being of both their economies is dependent primarily upon export growth to larger markets.
The Turkish military was a key actor in pushing its country closer to Israel.
Both defense establishments feel that there are abundant areas of cooperation. In
April 1992, the two defense ministries signed a document on principles for
cooperation that was translated into a concrete protocol for cooperation in
October 1994, designating specific areas of military cooperation.
As early as September 1995, the two air forces reached an agreement to allow
training flights in each other’s territory and to train together.12 This exposed the
two air forces to types of previously unknown terrain. In 2000, the two air
forces started training together, which enhanced the potential of operational
cooperation.
During the February 1996 visit of the deputy of the Turkish Chief of Staff Gen.
Çevik Bir, a central figure in the Turkish–Israeli rapprochement, several additional
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The new strategic partners
military agreements were signed.13 The first was in the area of intelligence, which
formalized and expanded the previous ongoing cooperation. The two countries
decided to act together in the area of electronic surveillance. The main target
country was Syria, with Iran as the second priority. Turkey also receives information from Israel on Russian military systems used by its neighbors and has access
to information collected by the Israeli intelligence satellite Ofeq.
A naval agreement was also reached, permitting access by naval vessels to
each other’s harbors, and arranging joint exercises in the Mediterranean. The
latter eventually took place off the Israeli coast in January 1998, in the Reliant
Mermaid naval search-and-rescue exercise, with US ships also participating.
Almost two years later, in December 1999, Israel, Turkey and the United States
embarked again on joint naval maneuvers, this time off Turkey’s Mediterranean
coast. This exercise and the one conducted in January 2001 were presented
again as search-and-rescue drills.
Since 1996, a formal common forum for exchange of strategic evaluations
convenes biannually in alternate countries. Usually, the director-general of the
Ministry of Defense leads the Israeli delegation to these talks, while the deputy
chief of general staff heads the Turkish group. The chiefs of staff, their deputies
and chiefs of services, as well as many in the senior echelons of the two armies
often visit each other. The bilateral contacts generate greater familiarity with the
modus operandi of the other military, an atmosphere of professional respect, as
well as an ambience of social ease.
The cooperation extended also to the area of weapons sales and production.
The main strategic rationale has been to lower dependency upon outside suppliers. For Turkey this is a new emphasis, as it encountered difficulties in procuring
weapons from its NATO allies (the United States and Germany), particularly
due to the suppliers’ sensitivities to Turkey’s human rights record. Moreover, it
developed aspirations to acquire advanced military technology that would be
commensurate with its newly perceived international status. Oltan Sungurlu,
Turkey’s Defense Minister, outlined a new policy in 1996, which encouraged
Turkey’s leading companies to enter into the defense industry business in order
to lessen Turkey’s dependency on high-tech.14 An important component of the
multi-billion-dollar military modernization plans was technology transfer. The
cumulative impact of the August 1999 earthquake, followed by two serious economic crises in November 2000 and February 2001, has forced the Turkish
government to consider cuts in its budget, including military expenditures.
Israeli arms have been attractive due to their high quality and because
Jerusalem allows the transfer of military technology to Turkish defense industries. According to Gen. (ret.) Sadi Ergüvenç, ‘Taking into consideration the
shortcomings of the new European security architecture, Turkey figures a need
to become more self-sufficient in meeting its own military requirements. This is
perhaps the most rational explanation for Turkey’s recent rapprochement with
Israel.’15 Moreover, Israel appeared to be a more reliable supplier than the
United States and the Europeans, who tended to link arms sales to non-security
issues, such as human rights.
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The largest military deal involves the Israeli upgrading of Turkey’s fleet of
fifty-four Phantoms in a contract worth $630 million, finally approved by
Ankara in December 1996. The first twenty-six jet fighters were to be upgraded
at Israel Aircraft Industry (IAI) and the remaining twenty-eight in Turkey. Part
of the deal included the supply of a hundred Popeye-l standoff air-to-ground
missiles. At the end of 1997, Turkey decided to increase the order to 200. Then
the consortium between the IAI and the Singapore Aerospace Industries won a
$75 million contract to modernize Turkey’s forty-eight US-made F-5A/B fighter
aircraft.16 Smaller deals were also secured, including the supply of airborne
search-and-rescue systems, devices to detect plastic and conventional mines,
tank shells, and the production rights for the Galil assault rifle. By early 1998,
estimates of total Israeli arms sales to Turkey in recent years reached
$1 billion.17
By May 2000, Turkey decided to put its new tank production program on
hold due to its cost and to pursue instead the upgrading option. Israel has also
been bidding for a deal, worth nearly $900 million, to upgrade 1,000 US-built
M-60 tanks. In June 2000 Turkey decided to award the state-owned Israel Military Industries (IMI) the contract to upgrade a first batch of 170 M-60 tanks at a
cost of $250 million. Despite the fact that the Americans have contested this
deal, negotiations toward finalizing a contract with the IMI continued.
In addition, IAI (and the Russian Kamov helicopter manufacturer) competed
for a co-production contract worth nearly $4 billion for 145 attack-helicopters.
The contract went to the American Bell Helicopter Textron, but, according to
Turkey’s Prime Minister Bülent Ecevit, if final negotiations over technology
transfer with the company fail, or US Congress denies an export license, his
government would reopen talks with the Israeli–Russian team.18 In June 2000,
the IAI also lost to the competition for the supply of the Ofeq intelligence satellite to a French firm. Yet, Turkey canceled two large military contracts with
France, including the satellite deal, after the French National Assembly passed
legislation in January 2001 that labeled as genocide the killing of Armenians by
the Ottoman Empire at the beginning of the century. This reopened the possibility for IAI to win the satellite bid, should the necessary budgets be available. IAI
also lost the multi-billion-dollar contract bid for an Airborne Early Warning
system (in conjunction with Raytheon) to the American Boeing company at the
end of 2000. A partnership between the Israeli firms IAI and Elbit is still competing for a $500-million unmanned aircraft vehicles (UAVs) contract.
In 1997, Turkey secured a preliminary agreement for the co-production of the
advanced Popeye-2 (150 km range).19 According to Turkish defense experts,
Israel’s missiles and its advanced technology are of special interest to the
Turkish defense establishment.20 Indeed, Ankara expressed an interest in coproduction of the Delilah (400 km range) cruise missile, while the Phyton-4 airto-air missile and the Gil and NT-D anti-tank missiles are also on the Turkish
acquisition list.
The most remarkable element of the security ties is the institutionalization of
strategic dialogue at the highest levels and the development of routine working
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The new strategic partners
relations between the two defense establishments at various levels. So far, both
sides believe that these interactions are extremely mutually beneficial.
The changing circumstances with the end of the Cold War led to greater
openness in Turkey to the idea of seeking significantly better relations with
Israel. The peace process between Israel and its neighbors, reinvigorated following the 1991 Gulf War, made such an idea more palatable. Rapprochement with
Israel was sought because of its divergence from the typical Middle Eastern
actor. Turkey has been the more eager party in pursuing ties with Israel, perceiving in Israel an advanced modern state with a clear Western outlook and a close
ally of the United States. In turn, the Israeli governments actively welcomed the
rapprochement with such an important non-Arab Muslim state and a regional
power. Within a few years, the degree of intimacy developed with Turkey
ranked second only to the closeness of US–Israeli ties.
The Israeli–Turkish strategic partnership
The new close cooperation between Ankara and Jerusalem was driven primarily
by national security concerns, which lent it a strategic quality. The entente
between the two capitals is clearly not a military alliance in the traditional sense;
the two states have not defined a casus foederis, the situation that would activate
military action on behalf of the other. They both fear entrapment in crises of
limited relevance to their own national security, and neither expects the other to
participate actively in its wars. While expanding the scope of cooperation is possible, a formal defense pact is unlikely. Nevertheless, the current relationship
between Turkey and Israel may be termed a strategic partnership, since it reflects
a convergence of views on a wide range of global and regional issues, as elaborated below.
The two states publicize their high-level strategic dialogue and the current
level of military cooperation has created an infrastructure for common military
action in the future. Joint exercises, mutual visits, staff-to-staff coordination and
intelligence exchanges increase interoperability. Referring to the January 2001
naval exercise, Ephraim Sneh, the Israeli Deputy Defense Minister, said, ‘There
is substance here. It would be naive to say it is just something technical.’21 This
potential enhances deterrence, facilitates coercive diplomacy, and is the core for
the entente’s strategic implications.
The prevalent reading of international relations in the region also focuses on
the military component in Israeli–Turkish ties. In both countries, as well as in
the rest of the Middle East, military prowess is largely perceived as a crucial
element of national power and the most important currency of regional influence.22 In the Middle East, where the dominant prism for understanding international relations is power politics and informal alliances are at least as
important as formal-explicit coalitions,23 the interactions between Israel and
Turkey, particularly the military dimension, are not perceived as innocent. An
alternative paradigm for explaining regional dynamics, one stressing identity
and culture, would still conclude that the Arabs will tend to see Turkish–Israeli
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closeness as some sort of alliance due to the nature of their past encounters with
Turks and Israelis. Furthermore, the liberal vision of international politics,
which regards the use of force as no longer relevant and suggests instead that
economics become the dominant factor in international politics, was never
accepted by other leaders in the region.24 Therefore, the numerous Turkish and
Israeli declarations that their alignment was not directed against any third party
were usually not accepted at face value.
Moreover, Israeli and Turkish statements may be read as confirming an
alliance of politics. Upon his return from Israel (November 1993), Foreign
Minister Çetin announced that Turkey and Israel would cooperate ‘in restructuring the Middle East’.25 In August 1997, Prime Minister Mesut Yılmaz said that
Turkish–Israeli cooperation ‘is necessary to the balance of power’ in the
region.26 Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu similarly concluded in
1998 that the two states were obliged to forge an ‘axis’ in view of the volatile
international security picture.27 Israel’s Defense Minister Yitzhak Mordechai
said, ‘When we lock hands, we form a powerful fist . . . our relationship is a strategic one.’28
So far, Turkey and Israel have reaped strategic dividends separately simply
by being grouped together by other regional players and by rendering limited
security services to each other. For example, the flights of Israeli aircraft in
Turkey have a deterrent value versus Syria, Iraq and Iran, who view Israel’s
flights over Turkey as an extension of its strategic reach. During the Iraqi crisis
of February 1998, the Turkish ambassador to the United States stated that
Turkey would consider allowing Israel to use Turkish airspace for retaliation
should Iraq launch missile attacks on Israel. According to General Bir, the military agreement signed between Turkey and Israel paved the way for the resolution of the Turkish–Syrian crisis of autumn 1998.29 Similarly, Turkey’s threats to
eliminate the Russian-made S-300 SAMs if deployed in Cyprus were credible,
partly due to its Israeli connection.30
The strategic partnership between Turkey and Israel is not a classic balance
of power act, as the two countries are militarily stronger than any combination
of regional states. This partnership is characteristic of two satisfied (nonrevisionist) powers cooperating primarily to preserve the regional status quo and
to fend off common threats.31 The common security prism on international relations in general, and on the Middle East in particular, reinforces the balance of
power perspective that brings Turkey and Israel together.
The regional prism
Both countries regard the Middle East as an unstable region, which generates
considerable security risks. For example, Nüzhet Kandemir, former Turkish
ambassador to the United States, described the Middle East as ‘long ravaged by
terrorist and extremist tendencies’.32 According to General Bir, Turkey’s new
self-perception as a Middle Eastern ‘front country’ facing new threats to its
national security is the geostrategic context for understanding best the
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The new strategic partners
Ankara–Jerusalem relationship.33 Indeed, a senior military official explained the
rationale for the 1996 military accords: ‘We are surrounded on all sides by
trouble. We are in the hot seat. It is critical for us to jump outside this circle of
chaos and find friends in the region. Israel is the perfect choice.’34
Israel continues to see the Middle East as a source of threat, too. While the
evolving Arab–Israel peace process has reduced threat perception from its immediate neighbors, Israel fears threats from more distant countries.35 Moreover,
Israel’s army continues to be regarded as the final guarantee for peaceful relations
with its neighbors. Prime Minister Ehud Barak argued in August 1999 that:
We live in a difficult region and environment, which resembles neither
North America, nor Western Europe. In the Middle East there is no pity or
esteem towards the weak: He who is unable to defend himself does not get a
second chance.36
Turkey and Israel had unhappy encounters with Arabs, the dominant ethnic
element in the core area of the Middle East. These have colored their perceptions of the region and could lead to similar, even if not fully coordinated,
regional policies. For example, the two states would oppose any attempt coming
from Cairo, Damascus or Baghdad to gain hegemony in the Arab arena and/or
create an Arab united bloc. In the past, both states pursued policies intended to
block pan-Arab impulses. As a result of a balance of power rationale, Israel and
Turkey preferred a divided Arab world.
Adversial relations with Syria
One shared strategic concern revolves around Syria, the common neighbor and
adversary of both countries. Turkey and Israel have similar disputes with Syria.
Turkey’s Defense Minister Turhan Tayan, just back from a visit to Israel in May
1997, stated that the two governments share the same position against Syria due
to its support for terrorism.37 Despite repeated promises to stop aid to the
Kurdish separatist activities, for years Syria hosted the PKK headquarters along
with its leader Abdullah Öcalan (until October 1998), and allowed this organization to train in Lebanon – a Syrian protectorate. The Kurdish problem became
more acute for Turkey, particularly after the establishment in 1991 of a no-fly
zone in northern Iraq, free of Baghdad’s intervention. This provided greater
autonomy for the Kurds, the dominant group in this region, as well as a freer
hand for the PKK. In January 1996, Turkey’s diplomatic note to Syria, which
was leaked to the press, stated that unless Syria terminated aid to the PKK and
extradited Ocalan, steps could be taken that might harm Syria’s interests.38 In
April 1996, Prime Minister Yilmaz warned Syria of the possibility of punitive
measures.39 The greater Turkish assertiveness coincided with the rapprochement
with Israel.
Similarly, Damascus has hosted the headquarters of Hamas, Islamic Jihad
and leftist Palestinian rejectionist groups, which shared the commitment to
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167
destroy Israel and the peace process. Moreover, Syria controls the flow of military equipment from Iran to Hizballah in Lebanon and to a great extent has calibrated the operations against Israeli targets. One manifestation of the
Israeli–Turkish strategic cooperation became known in June 2000. Iran complained that Turkey demanded to be informed about the cargo of Iranian aircraft
transiting Turkish airspace en route to Syria, insisting on its right to force down
Iranian planes suspected of carrying unmanifested cargo to Turkey.40
An additional common dispute is over territory; the Syrians claim the Turkish
Hatay province Iskenderun (formerly known as Alexandretta), which was
handed over to Turkey in 1939 by France, the mandatory power at that time in
Syria. From Israel, Syria claims the Golan Heights, which it lost in the Six Day
War in 1967.
Finally, both Israel and Turkey quarrel with Syria over water – a scarce
resource for Syria and Israel. Syria has complained that upstream Turkey denies
it valuable amounts of water. Syrian territorial demands from Israel include
control of two of the Jordan’s tributaries, and access to the Lake of Galilee –
Israel’s main water reservoir.
The parallel disputes with Syria are an incentive for the two countries to
coordinate their foreign policies in containing revisionist Syria, while Israeli
attempts to reach a peace treaty with Syria evoked concern in Turkey. During
the negotiations held by the Rabin government (1992–95), Ankara was unhappy
with the suggested ‘carrots’ to Syria: its removal from the American blacklist of
states supporting terror and drug-trafficking, and an increase in its share of water
from Turkey. The Turkish concern peaked during the winter of 1995 to 1996,
when the Shimon Peres-led government attempted to induce Syria’s President Hafez al Assad to close a deal by offering him massive American financial
support and by greatly elevating his regional status.41
Indeed, the apprehensions concerning the negotiations with Syria led the
Turkish Foreign Ministry Under-Secretary Onur Öymen, during his visit in
Israel (January 1996), to demand of Israel greater sensitivity to Turkish interests
in the dialogue with Syria. He even described the Israeli policy toward Syria as
‘appeasement’. When Prime Minister Barak revived the Israeli–Syrian talks
in the fall of 1999, Turkey clarified its opposition to American military aid to
Syria, in the framework of an Israeli–Syrian agreement, before relations between
Ankara and Damascus improve considerably. A successful conclusion of the
Israeli–Syrian negotiations would have enhanced President Assad’s status in the
eyes of the Americans, and would have lowered his fears of Israeli–Turkish
cooperation against him, both developments inimical to Turkish interests.
President Assad’s position in his dealings with Israel guaranteed that Syria
remained an issue of accord rather than discord between Turkey and Israel. Yet
should Israel and Syria sign a peace treaty, we cannot expect more than a ‘cold
peace’ at best between the two states, parallel to Egyptian–Israeli relations,
which amount to an armed peace. Such a state of affairs will continue to be conducive to an Israeli–Turkish entente. Similarly, the Turkish attempts to improve
relations with Syria, following the expulsion of Öcalan and the Adana Protocol
168 The new strategic partners
signed in October 1998, were only partially successful due to the Syrian refusal
to give up its claim to Iskenderun and to its demands for more of the Euphrates’
waters. Ankara would presumably welcome the emergence of a moderate proWestern Syria. Yet, it would need a lot of proof and the passage of many years
to convince skeptic Turkey on the issue of Syrian moderation.42
Fear of Islamic extremism
Both countries share the need to curb the influence of radical Islam in the region.
Turkey has always seen itself as a secular model for development. The competing Islamic religious model offered by Iran undermines the basis of the Turkish
contemporary political system and the legitimacy of its secular leadership. The
Turkish secular leadership has feared the activities of Iran or even Saudi Arabia
within Turkey, which strengthen the domestic Islamic groups.
While Iran’s Islamic fervor and its support for terrorism elevated her position
on Turkey’s list of opponents, Ankara usually behaved with caution. The relations with the Islamic Republic were strained and were punctuated by mutual
accusations. In the late 1990s, Turks wondered whether Iran replaced Syria as its
chief enemy. In February 1997, General Bir described Iran as a terrorist state
trying to export its anti-secular ideology to Turkey and Central Asian countries.43 Turkey also accused Iran of supporting the Kurdish separatists.
Turkey also faces a serious domestic problem, as militant Islamic organizations have been active and segments of its society identify with the Islamist
platform of the Welfare Party (Refah Partisi-RP), its predecessors and its offshoots. The RP is largely perceived by Turkey’s political, military and intellectual elites as intent on undermining the secular-democratic order of modem
Turkey. As such, it is a serious domestic challenge, which became particularly
potent in the 1990s when the RP and its successor, the Virtue Party (Fazilet
Partisi-FP), scored surprisingly well in several electoral contests. The constitutional steps taken against the Islamists have not removed their political appeal.
There was also concern that radical Islamic organizations active in the Turkish
diaspora were channeling financial support for Islamic causes in Turkey.44
Israel, too, has an interest in curbing the influence of radical Islam in the
region because Muslim extremists oppose the very existence of the Jewish state,
and they act violently against Israeli targets. In the 1990s, Islamic extremism
became a major perceived threat for Israel. For Rabin, Iran became Israel’s archenemy as it represented a particularly dangerous fusion of fanatic Islamic hostility to Israel with an active program to develop weapons of mass destruction.
Moreover, the Islamic-inspired terrorism of the Palestinian Hamas and Islamic
Jihad, once just a military nuisance, became in Israeli eyes a strategic threat.
Rabin warned that Iran-backed Islamic fundamentalism could spill beyond the
Arab world, especially to countries with Muslim communities.45 These perceptions were shared by all of Rabin’s successors, although suggestions for a more
nuanced policy toward Iran were occasionally raised within the defense
community.
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At the end of the 1990s, Israel also developed domestic fears about the
appeal of Islamic extremism among Israeli Arabs. The Islamic movement in
Israel was infiltrated by Hamas elements and even participated in isolated
terrorist acts during 1999 to 2001. Moreover, since August 2000, the security
services have investigated links to Osama bin Laden and the al Qaeda in
Afghanistan. Such fears were amplified after the September 11 terrorist attacks
on the United States and the ensuing support for bin Laden among Israeli Arabs
and the Palestinians.
Indeed, both states supported wholeheartedly the American campaign against
the Taliban regime in Afghanistan and the attempt to destroy bin Laden’s
organization. The Turkish and Israeli leadership are also afraid of the growth of
radical influence in pro-Western countries, such as Jordan or Egypt, which
might destabilize these regimes. Generally, the two states would like the Turkish
model toward modernization and democratization to gain the upper hand among
the Muslims in the Middle East and in Central Asia.
The threat of weapons of mass destruction and
long-range missiles
Another issue on the common strategic agenda is the spread of weapons of mass
destruction (WMD) and their means of delivery, primarily long-range surfaceto-surface missiles (SSMs). The 1991 Iraqi missile attacks on Israel developed a
greater awareness than previously of a threat to its population centers. Israel was
further sensitized to nuclear proliferation in the area in the 1990s, as the magnitude of the Iraqi nuclear program was disclosed, and as Iran intensified its interest in missile and nuclear technology. Israel has regarded the proliferation of
missiles capable of reaching its territory and the WMD technology as an existential threat. Israel became painfully aware that it was increasingly difficult to deal
with the new situation unilaterally and turned to allies for assistance.
For Turkey this is a relatively new concern. In the early 1990s, Turkish officials still displayed a surprisingly nonchalant attitude on this issue. When asked
about the ramifications of a nuclear-armed Iraq or Iran, they typically claimed to
be NATO members and beneficiaries of an American umbrella.46 This attitude
has since been replaced by a higher-threat perception concerning a WMD attack
by Iran or Iraq.47 In May 1997, Defense Minister Tayan noted that the WMD
programs of its Middle Eastern neighbors (Iran, Syria and Iraq) ‘threaten
regional peace’.48
The higher-threat perception was complemented by a more sober evaluation
of the problematic NATO and/or American extended deterrence. Turkey also
lacked an SSM capability, hampering its deterrence. In the late 1990s, Turkey
felt inadequately equipped versus the growing missile capabilities of its neighbors, particularly in light of its claim to be a regional power.
The Turkish and Israeli concerns grew significantly following the Iranian
tests of the Shihab-3 long-range SSM (1,300 km) in August 1998 and July 2000.
Since the August 1998 collapse of the UN-imposed arms control inspections in
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The new strategic partners
Iraq, this country has rebuilt its capability to manufacture chemical and biological weapons. The missile tests conducted in July 2000 indicated a reactivation of
the capacity to produce long-range SSMs. Syria purchased from North Korea a
Scud-D long-range SSM (700 km), tested in September 2000. These developments reinforced the Turkish interest in cooperating with Israel.49
The Turks believed that Israel could help them build a long-range missile
capability and showed an interest in acquiring active defense capabilities against
theater missiles, particularly the American–Israeli Arrow anti-ballistic missile.
This missile is appealing to Turkey because it is the only operational system
available (since 2000). Yet, Washington, which has control over the export of
the Arrow technology (as stipulated by its agreement to fund most of its development costs), objected to the sale of the missile to Ankara. Israel and Turkey
still hope to convince the United States to allow the deployment of an American-produced Arrow in Turkey.
The newly independent republics
The collapse of the Soviet order in Central Asia and the Caucasus allowed for
the renewal of their political and cultural links with the Middle East. Indeed,
they are considered by Israel and Turkey to be part of their more immediate
region. Other Middle Eastern states such as Iran and Saudi Arabia similarly see
this area as an extension of the Middle East and therefore a natural arena for
their presence. While the expectations for the creation of a Turkish zone of influence in this region failed to materialize, Israelis preferred a greater Turkish presence in Central Asia and the Caucasus rather than that of Iran or Russia.
This is why Israel favored the linking of the energy resources from the newly
independent states (the Caspian Basin) to Turkey, from Baku in Azerbaijan to
the Turkish port of Ceyhan in the Mediterranean, rather than to Russia or Iran.
This energy project was seen as strengthening Turkey both politically and
economically; preventing Russia from reasserting its hegemony in the Caspian
Basin; blocking Iranian influence and detracting from the Gulf’s importance as
an energy outlet.
Israel also sought to forge close ties with newly independent states that had
Muslim populations and secular nationalist governments. The new states see
relations with Israel as unaffected by the Arab–Israeli conflict, while easing their
access to technology and to the West, Washington in particular.50 If they happened to border its foe – Iran – there was an even greater interest. For example,
Israeli friendship for Azerbaijan (allied with Turkey) dovetails with Israel’s
deepening relationship with Turkey.
The global prism
Israel and Turkey share foremost a strong American orientation in their foreign
policy. Moreover, there are similarities in their approach to Europe and they
remain suspicious of Russian intentions in their immediate region.
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The American orientation
For the two countries, the United States remains the most important bilateral
partner and the cornerstone of their foreign policy. Basically, they want the
United States to be actively engaged in world affairs, with a clear strategic
vision of the identity of its friends in a turbulent world. Both regard themselves
among America’s best friends, having a long record of support for US policies.
While both welcomed the American victory in the Cold War, which brought
about improvements in their strategic environment, they share the evaluation
that in the new era their role as American allies in the region has been affected
negatively. With the Soviet threat no longer palpable in the West, they are less
needed for the protection of Western interests.
Currently, Turkey and Israel have apprehensions (of uneven intensity) of a
reduced US presence in the East Mediterranean, as the Americans focus primarily on the Persian Gulf because of its oil. Moreover, both are afraid that the
United States might adopt policies in their region that counter their vital interests. Much distrust existed in Ankara, particularly toward the Clinton Administration’s policy on Iraq, fearing its disintegration and the establishment of a
Kurdish state in the north as the result of American pressure. Israel questions the
effectiveness of the American counter-proliferation efforts in the Middle East –
an issue of paramount importance to Jerusalem. It also resents the American
attempts to control its arms sales abroad. Israel and Turkey also see the United
States as the only country able to influence Russia, China and North Korea to
slow down the export of sensitive technologies to Middle Eastern states in the
area of missile development and nuclear weaponry. Thus Turkey and Israel are
interested in solidifying the American commitment to their security needs (as
they define them) and in upgrading their relations with the United States.
Turkey realized that Israel was better positioned in Washington, and hoped
that Israel’s influence and particularly its lobby could be harnessed to further
Turkish interests, such as arms transfers. In 1996, Turkish ambassador to the
United States Şükrü Elekdağ lauded the Jewish lobby and stated that ‘Whenever
this lobby has worked for us, Turkey’s interests have been perfectly protected
against the fools in the US’.51 In the 1990s, Turkey’s presidents and foreign ministers added the major American Jewish organizations to the agenda of meetings
they conduct in the United States.
In the late 1990s, Israel conducted a concerted effort to instruct American
Jewry on the strategic significance of Turkey. For example, American-Jewish
organizations were induced to add Turkey to the itinerary of many high-level
missions regularly sent to Israel. These organizations initiated regular interactions
with the Turkish authorities and with the Turkish–Jewish community. In July
1999, an American Jewish Committee official noted that the Jewish-American
community has decided over the last two to three years that the relationship
between Israel and Turkey, and Turkey’s importance on a host of other issues,
requires that it become an active friend of Turkey in the United States, particularly in Congress.52
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The new strategic partners
The Israeli lobby helped Turkey in Congress with the campaign against the
stationing of Russian-made S-300 SAMs in Cyprus, toning down the criticism of
Turkey in Congress over human rights issues, and removing sanctions against
Azerbaijan. Jewish organizations also engaged in explaining in the United
States the importance of the Baku–Ceyhan oil pipeline. They also demanded US
support for Turkey during its period of economic duress.
The aid lent in Congress created high expectations in Turkey, which Israel
and the American-Jewish organizations have tried to lower, while at the same
time encouraging Turkey’s diplomats to become more effective in their relations
with Congress and the public at large. From an Israeli perspective, its efforts on
behalf of Turkey on Capitol Hill also had a negative side, since the better
chances for American arms transfers limited the Turkish incentive to buy from
Israel.
Ambivalent attitudes toward Europe
Both countries complain about West European behavior toward them. Turkey
suffered from arms embargoes imposed by European states that have shown
sympathy to the Kurdish cause. Turkey has been excluded from the European
Security and Defense Initiative (ESDI). The EU accepted Turkey’s candidacy
for membership only in December 1999, but negotiations for membership in the
EU would take years. Israel also experienced European arms embargoes until as
recently as 1994, when the UK removed its twelve-year restrictions on arms
deals with Israel. Moreover, Israel feels that the Europeans tilt politically toward
Arab positions, particularly on the Palestinian issue, and are not sensitive
enough to Israel’s security concerns.
The European concepts of behavior during conflict and particularly the attitude toward the use of force are different from those of Turkey and Israel. In the
relaxed atmosphere of the post-Cold War era, Europeans tend to believe that
most military threats have been eliminated. Therefore, the discrepancy between
the traditional notions of national security, still prevalent in Turkey and in Israel,
and the contrasting developing concepts of national security in Western Europe,
reinforce the gulf in perspectives on international relations in general, and
specifically on Middle Eastern developments. European criticism of Turkish and
Israeli military actions is often viewed at home as unfair and based on a misunderstanding of regional realities.
Moreover, Turkey and Israel view Europe’s reservations toward them as
partly culturally rooted and linked to religious differences. In European history
and consciousness, Jews and Turks (both non-Christian) have evoked negative
reactions, although in different ways; Jews have been for centuries the scapegoat
of European society, while European folklore is abundant with fears of Turkish
aggression. Both sides have noted this cultural parallel.
According to one Israeli approach, Israel benefits from the gulf between
Europe and Turkey. The tensions with Europe push Ankara further into the
Middle East and reinforce the search for regional allies. The dominant approach
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173
argues, however, that long-term Israeli interests are better served by anchoring
Turkey in Europe. Negative European attitudes toward Turkey could weaken
those elements bound by the Kemalist modernist pro-Western outlook, strengthening the Pan-Turkic and Islamist sectors of Turkish society that are less keen
on preserving Turkey’s pro-Western orientation. Israel has a vital interest in preventing Turkey from becoming embroiled in attempts to have its regime
changed by Islamic revolutionaries, as had happened in Iran. Indeed, Israel has
favored Turkey’s bid to enter the EU. In 1995, it extended diplomatic assistance
to Turkey with the long-awaited Custom Union agreement with the EU. Moreover, Turkey’s entrance into the EU extends Europe eastward and brings it
closer to Israel.
Persistent suspicions of Russia
Ankara and Jerusalem retain serious concerns about residual risks from Russian
conduct in their neighborhood, despite the improvement in relations with
Moscow in the 1990s. Old suspicions and rivalries over the Caucasus and
Central Asia still affect Russian–Turkish relations, as well as conflicts over
planned energy routes and Russian arms transfers to Cyprus and Iran.53 Similarly, Israeli–Russian differences are considerable. Israel’s main current concerns primarily revolve around the Russian transfer of sensitive technologies for
the development of missiles and WMDs to Iran and Iraq. Turkey is not at ease
with the expanded Russian–Iranian strategic cooperation.
Generally, Turkey and Israel fear a more assertive Russia in the Middle East
and the east Mediterranean. So far, Moscow’s Middle East policy seems to cultivate relations with Syria, Iran and Iraq, which are seen as potential allies in
curbing American influence in the region. It is no coincidence that both Israel
and Turkey see these countries in a similar light.
Conclusion
The many similarities in the strategic outlook of Israel and Turkey in the postCold War regional environment strengthen their bilateral relations. They share
similar regional concerns regarding Syria, the proliferation of weapons of mass
destruction, the challenge of Islamic radicalism, and the geopolitical destiny of
Central Asia. These mutual concerns intensified in the 1990s as a result of the
end of the Cold War, which allowed for greater freedom of action of the revisionist states in the region, while Turkey adopted a more assertive foreign
policy. At the global level, the two states display a strong pro-American orientation in their foreign policy, have a problematic relationship with Europe and are
suspicious of Russian aspirations. The parallels outlined here are clear also to
the other players in the region who generally see the entente in strategic terms.
12 The Indian–Israeli entente
India and Israel both represent ancient civilizations and share a British colonial
past. They were the first states to become independent (in 1947 and 1948,
respectively) in the post-World War II wave of decolonization. Both were born
out of messy partitions and have since maintained democratic regimes under
adverse conditions. Despite the two states’ similarities, it took more than four
decades for them to establish a warm relationship with each other including full
diplomatic relations, flourishing bilateral trade and strategic cooperation. The
strategic aspect of this relationship – a post-Cold War phenomenon – is the
focus of this chapter. The rapprochement between India and Israel is an important component of a new strategic landscape in the greater Middle East that
includes Central Asia and parts of the Indian Ocean littoral.
Historic background
As part of the Asian continent, Israel has been interested from its inception in
good ties with Asian states, China and India in particular. Arab hostility made
Israel a regional pariah and forced Jerusalem to look beyond its Arab neighbors
in search of friends and markets. The margins of the Middle East – Turkey, Iran
and Ethiopia – were the primary targets of its periphery doctrine1 but it paid
significant attention to Asian states, too. For a while it was quite successful,
depicted by its relationship with Burma (Myanmar). Generally, though, making
inroads eastward was not easy, given that Asian societies perceived Israel as a
largely Western phenomenon and were culturally disparate from Jewish society.
India recognized Israel in September 1950, but did not establish full diplomatic relations, allowing only the opening of a consulate in Bombay in 1953.
Most of the leadership within India’s then-ruling Congress Party linked the
Zionist enterprise to Western colonialism. Israel was even less acceptable to it
for having been established out of the partition of Palestine, an unacceptable
idea in the Indian context. Moreover, Muslims tended to support the Arab cause,
and the Indian government was loath to estrange its Muslim minority. Israel,
which courted a non-aligned foreign policy in its early years, was keen to
improve relations with New Delhi, one of the Nonaligned Movement (NAM)
leaders, but with little success.2 Pressures from the Arab bloc dissuaded India
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175
from accepting Israel’s overtures and led to NAM’s adopting an anti-Israeli
policy. Israel’s gradual identification as an American ally during the 1960s
further hindered good relations with India, which was highly suspicious of
American foreign policy.
The limited military assistance Israel rendered to India in its 1962 confrontation with China and the Indo-Pakistani wars (1965, 1971), as well as low-key
cooperation between their intelligence services over the years, elicited no
change in New Delhi’s approach to the Jewish state. Even the 1979 Peace Treaty
between Egypt and Israel made no dent in the formal hostility displayed by the
Indian political elite against Israel. From 1982 to 1988, India did not even allow
full consular relations.3
India’s change in attitude toward Israel took place with the end of the Cold
War in 1991. As India reassessed its foreign policy in view of the fall of the
Soviet Union – its ally during most of the Cold War – from superpower status, it
also reconsidered its relations with Israel, weighing the diplomatic benefits it
had derived from downgrading relations with Israel and maintaining a pro-Arab
voting record at the UN against the possible benefits to be accrued by becoming
closer to Jerusalem, given Israel’s significant role in the Middle East.4
India’s domestic politics also played a role. The Congress Party lost the 1989
elections and did not form a coalition government until after the June 1991
national elections. The ascendance of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) in the
Indian political system removed some hesitations about Israel. To the BJP, with
its nationalist, Hindu outlook, the Jewish state was not so much a diplomatic
burden as a potential ally against Pakistan and radical Islam. Indeed, the BJP
convention of October 1991 introduced a clause calling for full relations with
Israel. Finally, the economic liberalization initiated by Prime Minister Narasima
Rao, which depended heavily on economic and technological interactions with
the West, also argued for normalization. Israel was part of the new globalized
economy India wished to join.5
Several factors that had inhibited upgrading relations with Israel had also disappeared. First, changes in the energy sector had lessened the political leverage
of the Arab oil-producing states. Already by the end of the 1980s, fears of
energy crises had subsided substantially. As the oil market became a buyers’
market, the weight of Arab objections to the enhancement of relations with
Israel diminished.
Second, the Arab–Israeli peace process, reactivated with great fanfare by the
United States following the 1991 Gulf War, further marginalized the objections
of Israel’s regional enemies to ties of third parties with Jerusalem. The October
1991 peace conference in Madrid, to which almost all Arab countries sent senior
diplomatic delegations, served as an opportunity for hitherto reluctant states to
develop a closer relationship with Israel.
India signaled to Israel its willingness to gradually upgrade its relations, but
Israel rejected incremental steps, insisting on full diplomatic relations before
India could participate in the multilateral framework initiated at Madrid. New
Delhi had many interests in the Middle East (oil, foreign workers, radical Islam)
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The new strategic partners
and was highly interested in the multilateral track initiated at Madrid, particularly in arms control and regional security. An official announcement of full
diplomatic relations came on 29 January 1992, specifically linked to Prime
Minister Rao’s upcoming visit to the United States.
India was not the only country to warm toward Israel. Russia, China and
Turkey also capitalized on the changed circumstances to establish full diplomatic relations with Israel. Other Asian states, such as Laos, Cambodia and
Vietnam, renewed their diplomatic ties with Jerusalem during that period. India
did not want to lag behind China, which had been gradually improving its relations with Israel since the 1980s. The upgrading of relations was therefore part
of a larger, global post-Cold War phenomenon of wanting to normalize relations
with an increasingly important international actor which possessed advanced
technologies and excellent relations with Washington. Israel took the opportunity to improve relations with countries once in the Soviet orbit (Eastern Europe
and Central Asia) and many others previously reluctant to have full-fledged relations with Jerusalem.
A stream of reciprocal visits by senior officials attempted to give specific
content to the relationship. Israeli President Ezer Weizman’s visit to India in
December 1996 signaled the new bilateral warmth. The two states signed
various trade agreements and initiated joint agricultural and industrial projects.
Direct airline connections were established. By 2002, bilateral trade reached
$1.5 billion, seven times larger than the 1992 volume ($202 million). India
became Israel’s second largest trading partner in Asia, after Hong Kong. Cultural contacts intensified, with none of the backlash feared from India’s Muslim
community. By the late 1990s the two countries had discovered their common
outlooks on disputes in their regions, as well as a common strategic agenda.6
The American decision of January 1999 to lift the sanctions it imposed following India’s May 1998 nuclear tests removed a serious obstacle in Jerusalem’s
relations with New Delhi, paving the way for achieving even closer ties.
September 11 and the War on Terror appeared to create a climate even more
conducive to Indo-Israeli collaboration. This closeness was reflected in the historic September 2003 visit of Ariel Sharon to India, the first ever by an Israeli
prime minister. The high-profile visit was an opportunity to enhance each
other’s understanding at the highest levels and to further promote bilateral
defense and trade ties.7
Outlook on regional disputes
Both India and Israel have engaged in protracted conflict and waged several
major wars against their neighbors: India against China and Pakistan, and Israel
against Egypt, Jordan, Syria and Lebanon. Both are continuously challenged by
low-intensity conflict and terror, and both have rivals who possess WMDs.
India, like Israel, feels beleaguered in its own region. It fears that Pakistan
seeks its disintegration and is attempting to engage it in a proxy war by supporting Muslim-separatist terrorism. Furthermore, despite adroit diplomacy to
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177
reduce Sino-Indian tensions, most of the Indian strategic community believes
that China’s massive economic progress has threatening national security
dimensions.8
Israel’s strategic situation has improved considerably over the past two
decades, with the Arab–Israeli peace process and favorable changes in the international system, particularly the emergence of the United States, its long-time
supporter, as the hegemonic world power. Nevertheless, its existential fears
have not been lessened by the pursuit of WMDs by some of its foes – Iraq (until
the 2003 American takeover), Iran, Libya and Syria.
Within their respective regions the two states are involved in protracted conflict characterized by complex ethnic and religious components. Both feel that
the international community fails to understand their conflicts. New Delhi has
seen international pressure on Islamabad to act more determinately against terrorism give way to pressure on New Delhi to make it more worth Pakistan’s
while to end terrorism.9 Israelis feel that the burden is on them to make concessions to the Palestinian leadership, under the problematic assumption that the
latter must be able to demonstrate achievements to its constituency in order to
muster support for ending the violence. Both India and Israel take the position
that they will not negotiate as long as their rivals support terrorism, a position
that other nations often view as unnecessarily hard.
The threat to the two nations is the same: radical offshoots of Islam in the
greater Middle East. India regards Saudi Arabia in particular as a hub for Islamic
extremism and is wary of the Saudi–Pakistani relationship. For Israel, Islamic
radicals in the Arab world and Iran constitute a constant security challenge. The
combination of Iran’s hatred and its nuclear potential constitute a clear threat to
Israel, in the same way as Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal, which could fall into the
hands of Islamic radicals, does to India. This explains both states’ support for
the development of anti-ballistic missile defense systems. Israel’s remarkable
success in deploying the Arrow-2 missile (mostly funded by the United States),
along with its advanced research in military technologies, has aroused keen
interest in India.
India and Israel fear that the Kashmir and Palestinian conflicts could destabilize their regions in a way that would attract unwanted external intervention.
Both want the United States in particular to confine itself to the role of mediator
in the disputes. To that end, India continues to work with the United States to
defuse regional tensions.10 For example, American diplomacy backed by the
Indian military persuaded Islamabad to draw back from the 1998 Kargil confrontation and helped reduce tensions in 2002.
The two states differ, however, in their global orientations. When the Soviet
Union collapsed, India lost its main source of diplomatic support and military
technology. Despite the recent improvement of its relations with Washington,
New Delhi still prefers a multipolar world in which it can have greater latitude
and perhaps play a larger role in international affairs. In contrast, for Israel, the
demise of the Soviet Union, an ally of its Arab enemies, was a clear bonus, and
American hegemony suits its needs. The United States is the great power most
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The new strategic partners
supportive of its positions and most sensitive to Israeli needs in formulating its
Middle East policies. Moreover, the existential dangers to Israel did not disappear in the post-Cold War world, and any rising competitor of Washington (e.g.
China) is likely to take the Arab side.
The common strategic agenda
Defense ties
The Indian defense establishment has always been less hostile toward Israel than
the Indian government has been. In following Israel’s achievements on the battlefield and in weapons production over the years, the military developed a
professional appreciation of Israel’s strategic predicament and military performance. India gradually overcame its inhibitions and engaged in security cooperation with Israel. In March 1995, Israel’s air force commander paid an official
visit to India, and his Indian counterpart reciprocated in 1996. Abdul Kalam, at
that time Chief of the Indian Defense Research and Development Organization,
also made a visit that year. In April 1997 New Delhi sent its first military
attaché, marking a new era in the bilateral relationship. Home Minister Krishna
Advani said during a well-publicized June 2000 visit to Israel that he aimed for
strengthened cooperation in all fields.
Yet the evolving relationship is definitely not a military alliance. Neither side
wants to be drawn into the regional conflict of the other. Both emphasize that
their defense ties are meant only to enhance national self-defense capabilities
and stability and are not directed against any third party. Israel does not want to
be seen as Pakistan’s enemy,11 and it displays considerable caution in its relations with China. Likewise, India has both political and economic interests in the
Arab world, a history of supporting the Palestinians, and a growing Indian diaspora in the Gulf. Its views on Iran, Pakistan’s neighbor, differ from Israel’s.
Nevertheless, there are significant overlapping concerns and areas for potential
cooperation.
Defense ties include weapon procurement, plans for co-producing military
equipment, and cooperation in counter-terrorism and low-intensity conflict.
Recently, the two states have also developed ties in the area of space activities.
Arms and technology transfers
India’s quest for the latest military technologies complements Israel’s need to
broaden the market for its military products. India’s key indigenous defense projects, such as the Arjoun main battle tank and the light combat aircraft, have
incurred significant cost and time overruns. New Delhi encountered difficulties
in developing unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) and various missiles, and with
Russia unable to deliver promised weapons on budget and on schedule, it turned
to Israel, which has become New Delhi’s second-largest defense supplier after
Russia, with France ranking third.
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179
Israeli companies are helping India to upgrade some of its aging Soviet
platforms. Israel has developed an excellent record over the years in retrofitting
old military equipment of all kinds and sources, and when it comes to Russian
equipment it has the advantage of Soviet immigrants who worked as technicians
and engineers in the Soviet military industry. While Israeli firms lost out to the
Russians in their bid to upgrade India’s Russian-made MiG-21s in 1996, they
secured several contracts to supply avionics for the upgraded version. Israel Aircraft Industries (IAI) has signed several large contracts with the Indian Air Force
(IAF) for projects that include fitting its MiG-21 ground-attack aircraft with
laser-guided bombs. Negotiations are reportedly in advanced stages for Israel to
provide state-of-the-art fire-control systems and thermal imagers for the Indian
Army’s Russian-made T-72 tank fleet, as well as upgrading its armor.12 Israel’s
Soltam Systems won the contract to upgrade Soviet 133 mm artillery pieces and
is a candidate for upgrading the L-60 anti-aircraft guns for the army.
In 1996, India purchased from Israel a sophisticated Air Combat Maneuvering Instrumentation system, which was installed at the Jamnagar air base. At the
end of that year, the IAI’s Ramta Division was awarded $10 million to build two
Dvora MK-2 patrol boats in India. In addition, Tadiran Communications, an
Israeli company specializing in military communications, is providing hundreds
of millions of dollars worth of equipment to New Delhi. Soltam has announced
that it will supply tens of millions of dollars worth of artillery (155 mm selfpropelled guns) to the Indian army.13
India’s indigenous efforts to produce UAVs for attack and reconnaissance
missions have yielded poor results. In 2001 its defense ministry signed a fixedprice deal with IAI at $7.2 million per UAV. India’s armed forces will need
some 100 tactical UAVs in the next five years, in addition to 200 UAVs for lowand high-altitude operations. The 1999 Kargil border conflict highlighted the
need for these, because the intrusions could have been spotted earlier if India
had had the pilotless spy planes. In the absence of airborne warning-and-controlsystem aircraft, the Indian navy too has relied on UAVs. During 2003 India
signed a $130 million contract with IAI for eighteen Heron UAVs; orders for
sixteen additional UAVs are expected. IAI and India’s state-owned Hindustan
Aeronautics Limited (HAL) have set up a division in Hyderabad for maintenance and other services.14
After canceling the development of the Trishul anti-missile system in January
2003, India decided to mount the Israeli Barak anti-missile system on ten of its
warships. Its navy has mounted seven surface-to-air Barak systems – intended to
protect ships against aircraft and stealthy, supersonic sea-skimming missiles –
on its warships. A $40 million deal was signed in April for an additional Barak
system; another two will be procured by year-end; and ten more over the next
five to seven years, bringing the total to twenty.15
In 2003, India’s defense forces submitted a draft proposal to buy $1.5 billion
worth of radar systems, which the Indian Ministry of Defense considered favorably. This proposal is separate from the ABM radar systems (such as Arrow-2,
Phalcon and Green Pine) that India is already negotiating to buy from Israel.
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The new strategic partners
State-owned Bharat Electronics Ltd of India has offered its radar systems, but a
senior Indian army official said that these radars are inferior to the overseas
manufacturers’ products. Israeli firms such as IAI and Elbit have bid on this
project. El-Op has offered to supply transportable radar systems, and IAI subsidiary Elta has also shown interest in this market.16 IAI is also pitching its
products to meet the Indian navy’s and air force’s command-and-control
requirements and eyeing the contract to upgrade more than 200 MiG-27 aircraft
with situation-awareness systems.
India renewed its efforts to procure effective air defenses following Pakistan’s 1998 nuclear tests. It has approached Israel on the subject of the airborne
Phalcon radar, to be mounted on the Russian-built IL-76 transport aircraft; the
long-range Green Pine radar, which is able to identify the launch of missiles at
great distances; and the Arrow-2 ABM system. The Phalcon and the Arrow-2, a
US–Israeli joint-development system, require American approval, which was
granted for Phalcon in May 2003 but is still pending for the Arrow-2.
According to Indian defense analysts, the success of US forces fighting
Russian-made Iraqi weaponry made Indian military planners think twice about
depending heavily on Russia. This means that India is likely to be more interested in Western equipment, including Israeli-made weapon systems. Moreover,
according to an Indian Ministry of Defense official, military planners have asked
the government to buy electronic warfare equipment only from vendors that do
not sell such equipment to Muslim countries.17 This often gives Israel an advantage over American and French competitors.
Co-production
Co-production plays to Israeli firms’ research and design strength and Indian
firms’ manufacturing strength. IAI and HAL already cooperate on several
upgrade programs for the IAF involving Russian-origin platforms. Nalini
Rajanti Mohanti, Chairman of HAL, cited joint Indian-Israeli upgrades of MiG27 as a prime example of such co-production.18 In September 2002, HAL and
IAI reached an agreement to jointly produce an Advanced Light Helicopter
(ALH). The ALH is designed for attack, intelligence gathering, and anti-tank
and anti-submarine operations. The first customer will be the Indian army,
which is expected to order more than 300 ALHs. The state-owned Ordnance
Factory Board is in advanced stages of talks with Israel Military Industries (IMI)
for joint defense projects that would involve the production of Israeli-designed
130 mm and 155 mm cargo projectiles, 122 mm Grad cargo projectiles, 125 mm
advanced tank ammunition and 122 cargo mortars. Similar agreements on
technology transfer were reached for the production of artillery. RAFAEL,
Israel’s weapon development authority, will provide the technology to produce
in India the Spike anti-armor and the Python-4 air-to-air missiles.19 In February
2003, IAI and India’s Mumbai-based NELCO signed an agreement to develop,
manufacture and market a range of electronic products, primarily to the Indian
Defense Forces.20
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181
Low intensity (terror and penetration)
Already in February 1992, Indian Defense Minister Sharad Pawar acknowledged
Indo-Israeli cooperation on counter-terrorism. Both states have a long history in
counter-terrorism activities. Their cooperation in this area, conducted out of
public view, involves the exchange of information on terrorist groups, their
finances, recruitment patterns, training and operations, as well as comparing
national doctrines and operational experience.21 After 9/11, cooperation on terrorism gained a higher priority on many countries’ strategic agendas, and the
West better appreciated India and Israel’s terrorism concerns.
Israel and India learn from each other on border security. Facing the challenge of Muslim fundamentalist terrorism springing from camps inside Pakistan,
the Indian military aims to develop the ability to quickly deploy troops inside
enemy lines for specific missions. New Delhi is also considering the establishment of a 30,000-troop rapid mobility force under the army, reportedly training
it at Israeli bases. Israel’s Defense Ministry Director-General Amos Yaron has
denied this, but announced on a related issue that the Indian army will be buying
Israel’s Tavor assault rifles, making India the first country to buy thousands.
India recently concluded a $30 million agreement with IMI for 3,400 Tavor
assault rifles, 200 Galil sniper rifles, as well as laser range-finding and targeting
equipment.22
As India strives to close its borders to terrorist infiltration, it needs good
border-monitoring equipment of the type Israel has developed over the years to
meet its own infiltration challenges. Israel has also supplied India with portable
battlefield radar and a wide assortment of human-movement-detecting sensors,
handheld thermals and night-vision equipment to the Indian armed forces.23
Space ventures
The space agencies of the two countries signed a cooperation agreement in
November 2002. While the space programs are nominally civilian, they have
clear military functions. Israel’s Defense Ministry has solicited investors for its
military space program, which is based on a constellation of small, relatively
inexpensive, multi-mission satellites that can be launched on demand from
fighter planes. When visiting Israel in August 2003, Krishnaswami Kasturirangan, Chairman of the India Space Research Organization, expressed interest in
the Israeli concept of small satellites and their employment, adding, ‘Israel has
much to offer in terms of cooperative programs for the future.’24 The Israeli
Ofeq spy satellite had attracted Indian attention even before this visit.25
Radical Islam
Mutual fear of radical Islam, both at home and in their immediate neighborhoods, has cemented Indo–Israeli ties. For India, the 1979 Shi’a revolution in
Iran lent legitimacy to the Islamization efforts of General Zia Ul Haq, who took
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The new strategic partners
over Pakistan in 1977. It was his regime and developments in Afghanistan that
energized the radical Muslims in India’s region. Pakistan has encouraged the
activities of extremists when doing so suited its foreign policy goals in
Afghanistan and India. While Pakistan’s secular military still calls the shots, the
country is gradually becoming radicalized and indeed has the potential for being
taken over by radical Islamic rule.26
Although Pakistan is relatively far away, Israel observes the developments
there with great concern, especially since Pakistan is a nuclear state. Intelligence
reports indicate that Pakistan is the origin of the technology for the centrifuges
at the Ispahan uranium enrichment complex in Iran.27 An Islamic regime in
Islamabad could give credence to the notion of an Islamic bomb – a tormenting
scenario for Israel.
India and Israel also share fears of Saudi Arabia and its role in the spread of
Islamic fundamentalism. The Saudi royal family finances many Muslim extremist activities, including attacks against Israeli and Indian targets.28 Israel also
wants to reduce the international leverage of Saudi Arabia, whose positions are
inimical to Israeli interests. It is active in encouraging Washington to exert
greater pressure on Riyadh to cease financing organizations such as Hamas and
Islamic Jihad.
The Islamic Republic of Iran became Israel’s arch-enemy in the 1990s. With
its inflammatory rhetoric and missile and WMD programs, Israel now fears it
more than ever. Indeed, for Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, Islamic Iran,
which was acquiring a nuclear capability and sponsoring terrorism, replaced Iraq
as the major enemy in the 1990s.29 By the end of 1999, Iran reached an advanced
stage in the development of the surface-to-surface Shahab-3 missile. The twostage missile, tested first in July 1998, was based on the North Korean Nodong,
with Russian contractors upgrading its design and subsystems. Its 1,300 km
range puts Israel into its striking distance. In July 2003, following a successful
test, Iran announced its operational deployment.30
In countering Islamic radicalism, both states developed an interest in Turkey,
an alternative model for the Muslim world. Turkey is a secular state facing
indigenous and external Muslim radicalism. In the 1990s Turkey and Israel
developed a strategic partnership based on a complex set of common regional
interests. Turkey was late to respond to Indian overtures due to its historic relations with Pakistan and the growing influence of Islamic circles at home, but the
War on Terror, a crucial issue for both states, put the two on the same side of the
political fence. They established a joint working group for combating terrorism
in September 2003, as a prelude to the visit of Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee to Turkey in the same month. Israel played a minor role in bringing
Ankara and New Delhi closer.
India and Israel both have Muslim minorities that they fear could become
fifth columns. India’s Muslim minority numbers some 140 million, the second
largest Muslim community in the world (after Indonesia). Part of this community is well integrated into Indian society, but the rest could potentially be radicalized. Israel’s one million Arabs constitute almost 20 percent of its population.
The Indian–Israeli entente
183
While most of them are law-abiding citizens, Israel is very worried about the
growing appeal of Muslim organizations among them and their links to their
Palestinian counterparts. In recent years, it has also witnessed a significant
increase in the number of Israeli-Arabs involved in terrorist activities.
Indian Ocean
The Indian–Israeli nexus has various Indian Ocean implications. It goes without
saying that India is an important international actor in the Indian Ocean. In
recent years, however, the Indian Ocean has become an area of growing interest
for Israel. Historically, Israel has seen the Indian Ocean as the transit route to
countries in the East, particularly because it could not use land routes, which
were blocked by hostile Arab neighbors. Jerusalem was especially interested in
one of the Indian Ocean choke points, the Bab El Mandeb straits, through which
all its exports to South and East Asia pass. Israel’s past attempts to establish a
military presence in Ethiopia, and, afterwards in Eritrea (following its secession), were made with the straits in mind. Kenya and South Africa, also on the
Indian Ocean littoral, have similarly attracted Israel’s attention.
Israel successfully established a presence in Oman in the late 1960s, supporting Sultan Qabus’ counter-insurgency efforts in the Dhofar province (at that
time Israel and Iran still cooperated in many areas). Oman reciprocated by being
almost the only Arab country (the other was Sudan) to support Egyptian President Anwar Sadat’s 1977 peace initiative. The 1991 Madrid conference improved
already good relations.
Israel’s main strategic concern following the removal of Saddam Hussein in
2003 is Iran, along the shores of the Indian Ocean. It has accordingly increased
its strategic reach by air and sea. Beginning early in the 1990s Israel developed
the capability to project long-distance (greater than 1500 km) air and naval
power, procuring from the United States long-range F-15Is and F-16s. The 1999
F-16 deal alone, which included fifty aircraft, mission equipment and a support
package, was worth about $2.5 billion. The purchase agreement left open the
option for sixty additional aircraft, and Israel is now expanding its air refueling
options.31 To parallel its air power, Israel built an ocean-going navy. Israeli
Saar-5 corvettes, which are able to stay at sea for long periods of time, have
been seen in the Indian Ocean. The three new Israeli submarines are equipped
with long-range cruise missile-launching capability. One such missile was tested
in the Indian Ocean, generating reports about Indian–Israeli naval cooperation.32
India is not averse to a greater Israeli presence in the Indian Ocean. Indeed,
Israel has plans to triple its submarine force and to build additional Saar-5
corvettes. Generally, the Israeli strategic community is increasingly interested in
the sea, both to provide depth and for the deployment of a submarine-based
nuclear second-strike force.33
Pakistan’s burgeoning missile and nuclear weapon technologies are of
concern not only to India, but also to Israel. Indian strategists stress in dialogues with their Israeli counterparts that Pakistan seeks to become a supplier
184
The new strategic partners
of intermediate-range missiles for such countries as Iran, Libya, Saudi
Arabia and Syria, with the Saudis playing a major role in financing such deals.
K. Santhanam, Director of the Indian Institute for Defense Studies and Analyses,
stated at an Indo-Israeli strategic dialogue that ‘Pakistan will sell missiles to
Middle East states through fronts’ and that ‘Syria is interested in obtaining the
Ghauri missile’.34 Israeli fears focus primarily on the seepage of nuclear technologies, with governmental authorization or as a rogue operation, to the Arab
world and Iran.
Pakistan is equally concerned by Israel’s capabilities and its military relations
with India, which probably serve as a catalyst for intensifying the intra-Pakistani
debate over having relations with Israel. President Pervez Musharraf has made
several calls for public discussion of establishing diplomatic relations with
Israel, noting that other Arab and Muslim countries have done so.35 Musharraf
has sent such signals to Israel. The Jewish state, with no end in sight to its
conflict with the Palestinians, is equally interested in normalizing its relations
with important Muslim states. Cordial relations with a populous Muslim country
such as Pakistan or Indonesia could, like the improved Israeli–Turkish relations,
help dilute the Islamic dimension in the Arab–Israeli conflict.
Central Asia
India has long-standing strategic and cultural links to energy-rich and newly
accessible Central Asia.36 Nowadays it describes this region as its ‘extended
strategic neighborhood’, where it jockeys with rivals China and Pakistan for
influence.37 Israel is interested in this new part of the ‘greater Middle East’. Like
India, Israel sells military equipment to Central Asian states and has a modest
diplomatic and business presence there. Both Israel and India aim to limit the
influence of Iran and Saudi Arabia, the agents for radical Islamization. They
prefer the presence of secular Turkey and hope the Central Asian states will
emulate the Turkish model rather than the Iranian. Both states also want the flow
of oil and gas there to be unimpeded by instability. While there may be differences over the direction of planned pipelines, India and Israel are in agreement
as to the desirability of low energy prices. India’s economy needs it, while in
Israel’s political assessment, low prices reduce the influence of the Arab world.
The Washington dimension
New Delhi continues to suspect Washington of being a false friend because of
its continued cordiality with Pakistan and China. The nascent American–Indian
relationship, particularly after 9/11, has not been enough to bring India into the
American fold.38 New Delhi’s links with Jerusalem have the potential to smooth
over some of the Indo-US issues.
As noted above, New Delhi believed that upgrading its relations with
Jerusalem would have a positive effect on the United States’ disposition toward
it. The power of America’s Jewish lobby is often exaggerated, but the lobby is
The Indian–Israeli entente
185
quite effective. It did not take too much convincing to bring it on to India’s side
in the 1990s. The American–Jewish organizations were politically astute enough
to understand India’s importance to the United States and Israel and the potential
advantages of nurturing good relations with the Indian community in America.
Cooperation between the two diasporas has the potential to magnify the voices
of two communities that are small in number – about 5.2 million Jews and
1.8 million Indians – but highly educated, affluent, and attached to democratic
homelands facing what is increasingly viewed as a common enemy. American
Israel Public Affairs Committee, the American Jewish Committee, the Jewish
Institute on National Security Affairs and the American Jewish Congress
nourish ties with India and with the Indian lobby in Washington. Many members
of the US–India Political Action Committee, which was formed only in September 2002, are blunt about their desire to emulate American–Jewish groups and
are interested in building a long-term relationship.
The two lobbies’ relationship is excellent. They are working together on a
number of domestic and foreign affairs issues, such as hate crimes, immigration,
anti-terrorism legislation, and backing pro-Israel and pro-India candidates. The
Jewish–Indian alliance worked together to gain the Bush Administration’s
approval for Israel’s sale of the four Phalcon early-warning radar planes to India.
Moreover, in July 2003 they were successful in adding to a US aid package for
Pakistan an amendment calling on Islamabad to stop Islamic militants crossing
into India and to prevent the spread of WMDs.39
Indo-Israeli cooperation on weapon procurement is useful, first, to overcome
American hesitations in approving sales of sophisticated equipment to India, not
only equipment made in Israel but also US-made equipment such as advanced
Patriot missiles. Notably, Washington blocked the sale of Israeli Phalcons to
China. Second, India is interested in preventing Pakistan from procuring the
latest American military equipment, especially aircraft. Third, India, as well as
Israel, is interested in military technology transfer from the United States. While
a greater American involvement in the Indian arms buildup could be at the
expense of Israeli products and technology, there are enough overlapping interests to maintain collaboration.
Another area of Indian–Israeli congruence is US-sponsored international arms
control regimes. Both states resisted American pressures to comply with the NonProliferation Treaty (NPT), which is viewed in both capitals as flawed and ineffective. India does not adhere to the 1987 Missile Technology Control Regime
(MTCR) and has defied the United States on the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty
(CTBT) signed in 1996 and the Fissile Material Cut-Off Treaty (FMCT).
Israel, more vulnerable to American pressures, was ready to experiment with
US-backed international arms control regimes, notwithstanding its traditional
suspicion of arms control efforts and international institutions. In 1991 it
accepted the MTCR, and in 1992 it signed the Chemical Weapons Convention,
on which ratification is still pending. Israel also took seriously the Arms Control
and Regional Security multilateral talks of 1991 to 1996 and indicated willingness to adhere to a CTBT, which was put on the international arms control
186
The new strategic partners
agenda in 1993. In 1998, the Israeli government even agreed to move on the
FMCT. Israel refused, however, to sign the NPT, and in 1995, when this treaty
was extended, the United States tacitly accepted Israel’s claim for being an
exception.
Israel was able to do all this without compromising its vital interests, but
clearly, after flirting with arms control, Israel has again become suspicious of
US attempts to bring it under the umbrella of international regimes. Israel and
India were relieved when the Bush Administration reversed some of the United
States’ arms control fervor. This shift could also alleviate restrictions on missile
exports and facilitate the sale of US ABM systems, including the Boeing-produced Arrow-2, to India, Turkey and/or South Korea.
A trilateral alliance could result from the new US–Indian–Israeli convergence
on strategic issues such as counter-terrorism, missile defense and pre-emption.
On an official visit to the United States in May 2003, India’s National Security
Adviser, Brajesh Mishra, specifically proposed an anti-terrorism alliance
between the three nations.40 ‘Such an alliance would have the political will and
moral authority to take bold decisions in extreme cases of terrorist provocation’,
Mishra said in an address to the American-Jewish community in Washington.
As to US support for this, the outgoing US ambassador to India, Robert
Blackwill, often clashed with Assistant Secretary of State Christina Rocca in his
support for Indian–US defense relations and the inclusion of Israel in a strategic
triad. If the United States warms to the idea, this trilateral relationship might
become attractive to India and Israel as well, if it is well defined.
Conclusion
The links between Jerusalem and New Delhi seem to be stable beyond an
ephemeral convergence of their interests as sellers and buyers in the arms
bazaar. Civilian trade has been booming. Opening up to the huge market in
India, which is expected to become a trillion-dollar economy by 2010, has had
many economic benefits for Israel. The relationship is similarly beneficial in
military and economic terms for India. It seems that both states have found the
right approach to putting the bilateral relationship on track and overcoming the
potential for discord. As long as these countries continue to face serious national
security challenges, the strategic focus of both capitals can only consolidate
Indian–Israeli relations.
The relationship has wide geostrategic implications beyond the strength it
gives these two regional powers. It solidifies the Arab nations’ reluctant acceptance of Israel as a fait accompli and enhances the deterrence capability of India,
a status quo power, and therefore stability in South Asia. The diplomatic traffic
generated by this relationship also strengthens the links among West, Central and
South Asia, giving greater credence to the notion of the Greater Middle East.
Indian–Israeli cooperation is also valuable in the US-led War on Terrorism.
This is an important reason for Washington to lend support to the Jerusalem–New
Delhi entente, similar to the American involvement in Israeli–Turkish relations,
The Indian–Israeli entente
187
while allaying as much as possible Pakistani fears. Washington has good grounds
to encourage Indian–Israeli cooperation, as its own interests in the Indian Ocean
will likely grow. The Indian Ocean has gained in geopolitical importance as a
number of issues, including WMD, Islamic radicalism, terrorism and narc-trafficking, meet on its littoral. In addition, Washington should capitalize on the
Indian–Israeli entente to promote closer cooperation among the Asian democracies, which face comparable security challenges – terrorism, ballistic missiles
and WMD – from US rivals. Turkey, Taiwan, Japan and South Korea are prime
potential additions to Israel and India in such a comprehensive security architecture.
Part VI
The twenty-first-century
challenges
13 Israel’s Palestinian challenge
Israel’s strategic environment improved after the end of the Cold War1 as its
international status was enhanced considerably, and the historic process of
reluctant acceptance of Israel as a fait accompli within the Arab world continued.2 While the chances for a large-scale conventional confrontation were
greatly reduced, two clear security challenges remained at the beginning of the
twenty-first century: the nuclear threat from Iran and the low-intensity conflict
(LIC) with Hizballah and the Palestinians. The repercussions of Iran becoming a
nuclear power and the ways to address this existential threat, as well as the
Lebanese theater are addressed in the following chapters. This chapter focuses
on the Palestinian challenge. First, it discusses the dim future of the Palestinian
Authority (PA), subsequently the nature of the threat it poses, particularly after
the electoral victory of Islamic Hamas in January 2006, and ends by examining
Israel’s options in dealing with challenges emanating from a Hamas-ruled PA.
The chapter is skeptical of the dominant two-state paradigm and advocates the
adoption of an open-ended conflict management strategy.
The future of the Palestinian entity
All past attempts to solve the conflict between the Zionist and the Palestinian
national movements have failed. Yitzhak Rabin’s government overcame the
long-time Israeli reluctance to deal with the Palestinian Liberation Organization
(PLO), and in September 1993 signed the Oslo agreement that led to a repartition of the Land of Israel and the establishment of PA control over most of Gaza
and the West Bank, leaving its borders to be negotiated at a later stage. A de
facto Palestinian state was established.3 In the year 2000, at the Camp David
Summit and the ensuing Taba talks, Ehud Barak’s government offered generous
concessions to the Palestinians in an attempt to end the conflict.4 Yet Yasser
Arafat refused to reach a historic compromise with the Zionist movement and
bring the conflict to a conclusion.5 Instead, he allowed the Palestinians to engage
in a terrorist campaign against the Jewish state, violating the basic commitment
he made to Rabin in the Oslo agreements to desist from violence.
Moreover, given the opportunity of self-rule in 1993, Arafat and the PLO
established an inefficient, lawless and authoritarian political system. Arafat’s PA
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The twenty-first-century challenges
was a corrupt, Byzantine entity in which he ruled by divide-and-conquer tactics,
allowing competition between leaders and even militias, which left him as the
ultimate arbiter and dispenser of jobs and remuneration. This decentralized
system eventually degenerated into chaos and disorder ( fawdah).6 The system’s
main failure lies in the area most critical to state-building – a monopoly over the
use of force. The existence of many armed militias defied central authority and
preserved a fractured Palestinian community. Arafat’s PA emerged as a ‘failed
state’, a category that describes states characterized by an absence of monopoly
over the use of force, by delivery of only partial justice, an inability to sustain a
legal and regulatory climate conducive to private enterprise, open trade and
foreign investment, and by difficulties in meeting the basic needs of the population in terms of health, education and other social services.7
Mahmoud Abbas (Abu Mazen) succeeded Arafat and was elected in January
2005 to head the PA. A man with far less political standing than Arafat among
the Palestinians, he promised to reform the security organs and enforce law and
order. Yet, in order to avoid a confrontation, Abbas incorporated elements of the
militias into the official security organs. He failed to consolidate the security services or to appoint new and loyal officers. Indeed, the fawdah has continued
unabated. Abbas also missed the opportunity to impose law and order in Gaza
following Israel’s withdrawal in the summer of 2005.
In contrast to the Fatah-led PA, Hamas leadership acquired popularity by providing welfare and education services to the people, and by establishing a reputation for honesty. Moreover, the armed wing of Hamas has been at the forefront
of the extremely popular terrorist campaign against Israel.8 As a result, Hamas
reaped electoral victories at the municipal level and in the January 2006 elections to the Palestinian Legislative Council.
However, it is unlikely that Hamas will succeed in transcending Arafat’s
political legacy, and in imposing a consolidation of the militias under a united
Palestinian command. The Fatah-linked militias have no intention of disarming
or accepting the new authority, and the violent reactions on their part have
already been seen. Yet, while the struggle over control of the organs of force
may well bring about sporadic bloody confrontations, it will probably not turn
into civil war. The Palestinians have so far shied away from internal war,
showing restraint and ipso facto favoring the emergence of a fractured and
decentralized polity. Moreover, Hamas has exhibited reluctance to serve as the
only ruling party, which is reinforced by its military inferiority versus the Fatah
armed groups.
A full Hamas takeover of the PA is improbable as long as Hamas lacks the
military muscle needed to take on the Fatah militias successfully. Indeed, the
outcome of the January 2006 elections was a tenuous power-sharing arrangement
between Hamas and Fatah. The Fatah-oriented militias, in coalition with President Abbas and the security services that have remained under his control, balance
Hamas, which relies on its own armed wing, and control several foci of civilian
power. Hamas may well be able to transform its militia into a governmentsponsored security force in order to facilitate access to weapons and funds and
Israel’s Palestinian challenge 193
eventually its expansion. A stronger militia may bring about a greater assertiveness on the part of Hamas, particularly in Gaza, where the Islamists are stronger
than Fatah in terms of popular appeal, as well as in military reach.
The Fatah–Hamas political cohabitation is an arrangement that will spare
the Palestinians some immediate dilemmas. The cohabitation delays the
inevitable clash between the competing visions held by the two sides, allowing
a political atmosphere preserving a facade of Palestinian unity. Moreover,
Fatah representatives will be sent to deal with the West and with Israel, allowing Hamas to remain ideologically pure in its advocacy of the destruction of
Israel. Most important, this arrangement may be sufficient to provide donor
states with a good enough excuse to continue to transfer funds to the aiddependent PA.
Yet the Fatah–Hamas cohabitation preserves the conditions for chaos and disorder in the PA – the existence of myriad armed gangs with loose central
control. The PA seems to continue to exhibit the characteristics of a ‘failed
state’. Moreover, Hamas is an unlikely candidate for reforming Palestinian
society. It is unlikely to serve as a modernizing agent as it represents a fundamentalist position that regards modernity and Western values as dangerous decadence and as an affront to its version of Islam. If Hamas does take full control,
initially in Gaza, it will establish a polity in the image of the Taliban regime,
which is inimical to a Palestinian journey into modernity. A Hamastan dooms
the Palestinians to backwardness, poverty, and easy recruitment of fanatic
terrorists.
For Israel, the enhanced role of Hamas in the PA means primarily the continuation of the conflict. The growing influence of the Islamists will inevitably
harden Palestinian positions toward Israel, making an agreement more difficult
to reach. Ideologically, Hamas opposes the recognition of Israel and is committed to its destruction – politicide.9 There is little reason to believe that empowerment of radical Islamists will lead to moderation and acceptance of Israel. Why
should Hamas moderate in office, when its ideology is its raison d’être? The
Taliban and Iranian regimes did not; neither did those of Saddam Hussein and
Hafiz Assad of Syria. The Hamas offer to put in place a long-term hudna (ceasefire) is primarily intended to gain time to consolidate its grip on power and to
prevent attempts to undermine its hold on the PA. The real criterion for gauging
the intentions of Hamas is not what its leaders say to Israel and to the West, but
what they teach their children about the Jews and their state. Typical of Palestinian behavior, conciliatory statements to the Western press are denied in Arabic.10
Even if Hamas is to undergo a process of moderation, it will be gradual and
lengthy. Hamas may accept a truce with Israel, but the competition among the
Palestinian armed factions will assure the continuation of terrorist attacks. Fatah
factions have criticized the willingness of Hamas to adhere to a long-term truce.
Moreover, the growing influence of Hamas in the Palestinian education
system is particularly destructive. Hamas will do its best to educate additional
generations of Palestinians to regard Jews as those who stole their land and
attribute to them characteristics taken from the standard crude anti-Semitic
194 The twenty-first-century challenges
motifs. The martyr (shaheed ) will continue to serve as the role model for Palestinian children in kindergartens and schools. These messages already form part
of the consensus in Palestinian society, which is mesmerized by the use of force,
the cult of death, and the violence that has been a central pillar of the modus
operandi of the Palestinian national movement.11
The nature of the threat
The stark analysis presented above leads to the inescapable conclusion that the
‘peace process’ has probably ended with Hamas catapulted to a leading position
in the Palestinian political system. Many will continue to pay lip-service to the
‘peace process’, but efforts for gradual conflict resolution such as the ‘Road
Map’ are likely to fail in the near future. An attempt to skip the built-in gradualism of the ‘Road Map’ and to negotiate a comprehensive agreement has even
less chance of success due to the unbridgeable differences between the demands
of the two parties, and the inability of a Palestinian leadership to implement a
negotiated settlement. ‘Failed states’ lack a strategic address able both to negotiate and ‘deliver’.
In all probability, the Palestinians will continue to be dissatisfied and to use
various degrees of force against Israel. Israel’s population lives beside a generally young, poor and fanatical population, with relatively easy access to
weapons and indoctrinated to hate its Jewish neighbors. Nothing Israel can do
will spare it the need to deal with extremely hostile neighbors ready to pay a
high price for acting on their hatred. Without access to an arsenal typical of a
state, including tanks and jet fighters, the Palestinians will continue to opt for an
asymmetric strategy, using terrorist attacks against the stronger party in the strategic equation.12 Terrorism is usually the weapon of the weak, and the chaotic
situation in the Palestinian territories provides the best circumstances for the
existence of myriad armed organizations, each one of them acting according to
its agenda.
The continuation of the struggle against the Palestinians presents a most
serious challenge as it carries the terrible cost of losing Israel legitimacy in the
international arena. The isolation of Israel has been an important component of
Arab strategy against the Jewish state, and remains so to this day.13 For a small
state such as Israel this is a major challenge. Additional threats emanating from
the PA are terrorism, regional escalation and international intervention.
The erosion of Israel’s legitimacy
Despite the greater degree of international acceptance of Israel today,
the state’s mere right to exist is still questioned in the Arab and Muslim world.
The call by the President of Iran, Mahmoud Ahmedinijad, in October 2005 for
‘Israel to be wiped off the map’ was not a lone, out-of-character voice in the
region. This sentiment is particularly common to the Palestinians, who try to
deny the legitimacy not only of Israeli policies, such as the security barrier,
Israel’s Palestinian challenge 195
targeted killings, or Israeli territorial claims in Judea, Samaria and Jerusalem,
but also of the country’s mere existence. The Palestinians have continuously
engaged in denigrating Israel and undermining its international legitimacy, by
making effective use of non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and international forums where Arab states muster large majorities.14 Comparisons of
Israel to Nazi Germany or to the Apartheid regime in South Africa, morally
repugnant as they may be, are common motifs in official Palestinian propaganda. Hamas, nowadays the central political force with a majority in the Palestinian Legislative Council and the party forming the government, has refused to
recognize Israel. The majority of Palestinians support this position,15 a fact that
calls into question the assumption that the Palestinians are ready to coexist
peacefully with their Jewish neighbors.
Unfortunately for Israel, the Palestinian interpretation of the conflict is
gaining increasing credibility in the media, as well as in political and intellectual
circles in the West.16 Israeli ‘new historians’, regardless of their poor scholarship,17 also provide ammunition for the Palestinian case. For many, Israel has
become the culprit in the Arab–Israeli conflict and the rationale of the Zionist
enterprise in building a Jewish state is questioned. While Israel still has strong
bastions of public support, public opinion in most Western countries (America is
a clear exception) has shifted in the past decades and is critical of Israel, often
taking the Palestinian side. A balanced review of the challenges to Israel’s legitimacy is beyond the scope of this chapter, but there is a long-range danger in creating an international consensus that questions the legitimacy of Israel. A new
Zeitgeist in regard to Israel, which accepts the position that the State of Israel
was born in sin, delegitimizing its behavior and blaming it for all subsequent
negative regional repercussions, would make its elimination expedient for
Western regional interests, and even morally acceptable. Gaining a pariah status
is problematic for a small state.18 Israel, though strong, is a small nation-state
and is thus more dependent for its well-being on the vagaries of the international
community than are big powers.19
To some extent, the rise of radical Hamas in Palestinian politics makes
Israel’s claim, namely that the root problem in the Arab–Israeli conflict is the
unjust rejection of Israel’s very existence, rather than the imaginary and true
wrongs it has heaped on the Palestinians, easier to present. So far, Western
countries have been adamant in demanding of Hamas recognition of Israel, of
the agreements it signed with the PA, and its unequivocal renunciation of violence. Yet it would not be surprising were there to be a process of gradual
erosion in Western opposition to Hamas. Its first signs can be detected already.
Calling for a dialogue, even with bitter enemies, is often seen as a pragmatic
approach. This is exactly the approach the Europeans adopted toward Iran – the
critical dialogue. Indirectly, such an approach leading to the acceptance of
Hamas as an interlocutor actually lends recognition to a regime intent on
destroying its neighbor – Israel. Further radicalization of Arab and Muslim societies may push Western states, European ones in particular, into distancing
themselves from Israel.
196
The twenty-first-century challenges
Terrorism
Terror is the weapon of the weak and has served as the main modus operandi of
Palestinians.20 One of the main problems associated with the 1993 Oslo Accords
was the establishment of a territorial base for terrorists operating against Israel
within the PA, in close proximity to Israel. The PA-controlled areas, and
particularly the cities, became havens for terrorists. The figures for Israeli casualties are very telling. In the fifteen years preceding the Oslo Accords (13 September 1993) only 254 Israelis were killed by Palestinian terrorists. The
respective number of casualties for the seven-year period from Oslo until
September 2000 (the beginning of the Palestinian War) was 256, while the
number for the period from September 2000 until September 2005 was 1,097.
During the Palestinian War, suicide bombers were particularly effective.
Since March 2005, mostly in response to Israel’s successful counter-terror
measures, most Palestinian terrorist organizations have announced a truce
(tahadiye), drastically reducing the number of terror attempts against Israel.21
Yet, following the installation of a Hamas government, the competition between
the various militias over publicity and support on the Palestinian streets by
perpetrating terrorist acts in Israel will continue.22 Even if a Hamas-ruled PA
would prefer a low level of terrorist activities for tactical reasons, allowing
Hamas to entrench itself in the PA, Hamas leaders have made it crystal clear that
they will not hinder activities against ‘occupation’ and will not stop anybody
committing acts of ‘legitimate resistance’.23 The reaction of the newly installed
Hamas Prime Minister Ismail Haniyah to the first suicide bombing incident
that occurred after he had taken office was, ‘This is a natural reaction to the
Zionist aggression.’24
This competition between the various militias, operating in an extremely
decentralized political system, could bring about a proliferation of terrorist
activities. Terror is, after all, a political theater that plays to an audience.25
Competition may well encourage striking at mega targets, such as oil installations, power plants, civilian air transportation (airfields or carriers), or high-rise
buildings, which would attract immense publicity. The PA proximity to such
mega-targets encourages a counter-value strategy. Several targets of great
importance are within the range of improved Qassam or shoulder-fired missiles
and attacking them does not even require the crossing of the security barrier
constructed by Israel. An improved Qassam capability (currently with a range of
11 km), and/or the smuggling of Katyushas into the PA will also allow the Palestinians to terrorize Israeli towns and cities. The first Katyusha (with a range of
over 20 km) was launched from Gaza on 28 March 2006.
Additional unilateral Israeli withdrawals in the West Bank, a measure largely
supported by Israelis (whose political attitude is beyond the scope of this
chapter), would create additional terrorist havens, and would place new and valuable targets within Palestinian range. Unilateral withdrawals mean a partial loss
of Israeli military control of territory and of intelligence. Indeed, the unilateral
withdrawal from Gaza in August 2005 has facilitated the smuggling of dangerous
Israel’s Palestinian challenge 197
weapons into the PA, and has intensified the need for increased vigilance against
terrorists and criminals attempting to infiltrate from Palestinian- and Egyptiancontrolled land and waters into Israel.26
The PA’s resemblance to a ‘failed state’ only strengthens its tendency to
produce terrorism. Generally, territories where there is no monopoly over the
use of force and where law and order collapses produce conditions conducive to
terrorist activities. Indeed, concern about states incapable of exercising their
sovereignty in an effective manner has grown in the West, with increasing fears
about terrorism, weapons proliferation and pandemics.27
Regional escalation
Since the Palestinians have always been aware of their relative weakness vis-àvis Israel, they have sought to enlist the Arab states’ help in armed conflict. One
goal of Palestinian strategy has been to provoke Israel into harsh military reactions that would generate a crisis, forcing some Arab governments to take military action. This component in Palestinian strategic thinking was termed ‘the
detonation theory’ during the 1960s.28 Such a strategy was partially successful in
triggering the June 1967 War, but the 1987 Intifada and the Palestinian terrorist
campaign since 2000 failed to elicit a military reaction from Israel’s Arab neighbors. While Egypt and Jordan showed much caution and refused to annul their
peace agreements with Israel and take military action, the Palestinian war clearly
brought about a deterioration, at least at the formal diplomatic level, in relations
with Israel. Similarly, other Arab states in the Maghreb and in the Persian Gulf
lowered their level of contact with Israel, in some cases even removing their
diplomatic missions from Israel. The Palestinian hope was for more substantial
anti-Israeli steps. A further escalation in Palestinian violence against Israel
might lead Israel to respond more harshly, which could again serve as a catalyst
for international criticism. Realizing that Israel’s acceptance in the region is not
necessarily a one-way historic process, Palestinian intransigence keeps the
Palestinian problem festering on the Arab agenda, which under certain regional
and international circumstances could unleash a regional escalation. Palestinians
still entertain notions that provoking Israel to take tough measures might eventually elicit an international crisis with regional ramifications leading to greater
involvement in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict of the states in the region.
In addition, a Hamas-ruled PA is more susceptible to radical Islamic elements. Al Qaeda has already established a presence in Gaza and the West Bank
that could become a launching pad for attacks on Israel, as well as on Egypt and
Jordan – two pro-Western states. In addition to such claims by Israeli intelligence sources, Abbas, Chairman of the PA, has confirmed this development.29
Similarly, one can see a Hizballah influence in the Palestinian territories, and
one can also expect a much greater Iranian presence, particularly if Tehran
becomes the main financial backer of the Hamas government. There is a danger
that what has basically been a national terror campaign will be transformed into
a transnational insurgency attracting Muslim radicals from other places, similar
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The twenty-first-century challenges
to the situation the US experiences in Iraq. Transnational insurgencies can pose
daunting challenges for the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF).30
A Hamas-controlled PA could also mobilize members of the Islamic movement in Israel to perpetrate terrorist attacks within Israel. The Islamic movement
in Israel has many links with Hamas as it has supplied much humanitarian
support to the organization in the Palestinian territories. Terrorists carrying
Israeli identity cards and driving cars with Israeli license plates enjoy much
greater freedom of movement than do Palestinians, and have better access to
important Israeli targets. So far, Israeli Arabs, with a few exceptions, have
refrained from actively participating in terrorist activities against the Jewish
state. A change in their overall passive predilection as a result of Hamas instigation would pose a very serious security challenge.
We may even consider the possibility of Hamas becoming the epicenter of a
regional alliance between the Islamists in Lebanon (Hizballah), Jordan and
Israel. Such an alliance could orchestrate a concerted attack on Israeli targets.
Urban centers are in proximity to the Lebanese and Jordanian borders and successful attacks could force Israel to react against Jordan and Lebanon, leading to
heightened regional tensions and even escalation.
The PA under Hamas could also become the agent for regime change in the
Hashemite Kingdom and even in Egypt. The Hamas ideological affinity with the
Muslim Brotherhood in Jordan and in Egypt makes it a natural ally to these
opposition groups, while its nationalistic credentials are also an asset in any
potential alignment with Palestinian groups that might be plotting against the
regime. The Palestinians border both countries and can supply weapons to antiregime groups. The emergence of a Hamastan in Gaza would become a challenge to Egyptian stability. From an Israeli point of view, the challenges to the
pro-Western regimes in Jordan and in Egypt that have signed peace treaties with
Israel have grave consequences, and their demise might restore a regional constellation favoring a conventional war against Israel.
International intervention
The Palestinians, the weaker side in the conflict, have traditionally preferred to
involve additional actors in their interactions with Israel in order not to stand
alone against the stronger Israeli side. One goal of the Palestinian terror campaign since 2000 has been the internationalization of the conflict with Israel. The
1999 NATO involvement in Kosovo served as the model.31 Such a strategy
relieves the Palestinians of the need to negotiate with the hated Israelis. Moreover, an enhanced role on the part of international actors would limit Israeli
freedom of action. So far, Israel has been successful in blocking such a development. In addition, its measured use of force in fighting Palestinian terrorism has
hitherto not crossed the undefined threshold that might have elicited international intervention.
A further breakdown in governmental services and a subsequent deterioration
in the socio-economic situation in the Palestinian territories could trigger,
Israel’s Palestinian challenge 199
however, greater international activism. State failure has preceded almost every
case of US military intervention between 1960 and 2005. This has also been the
overwhelming focus of the fifty-five UN peacekeeping operations over the same
period.32 The Palestinians may even capitalize on Israel’s attempts to establish a
cordon sanitaire around a Hamas-ruled PA by orchestrating a human disaster in
parts of the territories under their control in order to recapture the attention of
the international press and international organizations as a prelude to inviting
international intervention. They may well organize marches of unemployed and
hungry Palestinians attempting to cross the security barrier into Israel. Such a
march will put Israel in a difficult dilemma as to whether or not to stop it by
using force. The Palestinians could stage ‘massacres’ of Palestinians by Israeli
troops, as they did in Jenin during the March 2002 Defensive Shield Operation.
Despite the fact that such claims were patently demonstrated as untrue, the
initial, extremely negative impression – the result of the media reports on the
subject – persisted and elicited calls for international intervention. Similarly,
the powerful film clip showing the shooting of the child Mohammed al Dura at the
beginning of the Palestinian campaign of terror, which had a huge influence over
public opinion, was clearly staged.33
Several European states, France in particular, are frustrated by being sidelined by Israel and the US in the ‘peace process’. They want an enhanced role in
the region and may join the pressure to internationalize the conflict. The International Quartet (representatives of the US, EU, Russia and the UN), which was
established to promote the ‘Road Map’, is partly a response to the Palestinian
desire to add international input to the conflict resolution attempts. It could
become the harbinger of an institutional mechanism leading to an enhanced
level of international involvement.
Policy options
What can be done about the chaotic situation in the PA and the ascendance of
Hamas? The international community is currently subscribing to the two-state
paradigm (i.e., the establishment of a Palestinian state next to Israel), assuming
that such a political arrangement is a recipe for peace and stability. This option
will first be briefly examined. Subsequently, a variation on this theme is
presented – international trusteeship. Finally, a more realistic conflict management strategy is offered,34 comprising several diplomatic and military components, attempting to minimize the cost of the protracted war and buying time
for the potential development of more attractive alternatives.
Building a Palestinian state
The literature on the ‘failed state’ phenomenon displays a clear tendency to prescribe an increase in efforts toward state-building and strengthening governability as the preferred means of dealing with the problem.35 However, the efforts to
end Palestinian chaos have so far failed to produce the desired result. While the
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The twenty-first-century challenges
ascendance of Hamas further strengthens the centrifugal trends in Palestinian
politics, the international community will probably continue to see the establishment of a Palestinian state as a precondition for stability and coexistence in the
region. Yet a transition to statehood requires the achievement of monopoly over
the use of force, which probably cannot be achieved without a civil war or at
least a military showdown amply demonstrating that the official coercive organs
are willing, and able, to exact a high price from organizations or individuals who
are unwilling to disarm. Unfortunately, primarily for the Palestinians themselves, such an armed confrontation is not likely in the near future.
Furthermore, even if the Palestinians somehow realize the goal of monopoly
over force and are successful in establishing a state, it will not necessarily be a
state ready to live peacefully next to Israel.36 The proposition that statehood
inevitably produces responsible behavior is doubtful, considering the number of
leaders who have led their states into abysses. In fact, the efforts to establish a
Palestinian state that will at the least attempt to conduct itself like Egypt or
Jordan are doomed to failure. The current Palestinian education system and official media incite hatred against Jews, who are blamed for all Palestinian misfortunes, and will inevitably turn a Palestinian state into an irredentist polity, a state
dissatisfied with its borders and intent on using force to achieve territorial
aggrandizement. Indeed, Palestinian political culture displays extremist views by
clinging tenaciously to the ethos of ‘the right of return’ for the refugees. At this
historic juncture, Palestinian society, under the spell of a nationalist and Islamic
ethos,37 is simply unable to bring itself to a historic compromise with the Zionist
movement, which would end the conflict. Palestinian rejectionism has won the
day whenever a concrete partition has been on the agenda, the 2000 Camp David
proposals being the most telling example. The Palestinians will continue to
desist from preventing terrorist activities against Israel, to cling to extreme and
unrealistic demands, and to be dissatisfied with all Israeli concessions that fall
short of dismantling the Zionist state. The tragedy is that with the progression of
history, Israel has less territory to offer to the Palestinians, thereby only increasing their bitterness and despair. The hope that history can be rolled back is an
illusion.
The liberal belief that replacing poverty with affluence would moderate the
Palestinian political agenda is also problematic. It is doubtful that the corrupt
Palestinian economic system could produce widespread economic benefits.
Massive foreign aid rendered over the previous decade generally failed to filter
down to the masses, and the existing lack of law and order is inimical to the
creation of a climate that encourages regular economic activity and growth. The
ascendance of Hamas in Palestinian politics and continued chaos in the PA
are likely to hinder the efforts of the international community to deliver aid to
the Palestinians. External economic aid is ‘only as good as the ability of a
recipient’s economy and government to use it prudently and productively’.38
Moreover, the steep rates of economic growth needed to match the high fertility
rate of the Palestinians are clearly improbable, and actually doom the Palestinians to even greater poverty in the near future. Thus the impoverishment of
Israel’s Palestinian challenge 201
Palestinian society, together with a very high level of hatred toward the Jewish
state, guarantees the continued existence of a community extremely hostile
toward Israel.
International trusteeship
The new panacea prescribed by friends of the Palestinians for calming the conflict is international trusteeship, which means the transfer of governmental
responsibility in Judea, Samaria and Gaza to a US-led alliance and the introduction of American and/or international forces to keep the peace.39 Well-wishers of
the Palestinians have finally understood that it will be impossible to reach a solution to the conflict in the near future and that the Palestinians have great difficulties in building a state. In despair, they suggest a trusteeship to groom the
Palestinians for statehood.40 Some European states are showing a similar interest
in participating in such an international force in order to enhance their involvement in the region and to help the Palestinians withstand Israeli military pressure.
It is not at all clear whether the Americans are prepared for an involvement of
this kind. Seemingly, the US will first try to complete its missions in
Afghanistan and Iraq. Washington’s top priorities apparently require focusing
attention on Iran, a state with nuclear potential and far-reaching consequences
for international security, before dealing with Palestinian terror. The assumption
of the Israeli Left that solving the Israeli–Palestinian conflict is of the utmost
urgency is not shared by the US.
Even if it were possible to lure the Americans into taking on the responsibility of ruling the Palestinians, their chances of success would not be great.
A historical survey of the past few decades on the use of foreign forces for
peacemaking – as opposed to peacekeeping – is not encouraging, to say the
least. Peacekeeping forces are put in place after an agreement has been reached
between two sides, generally following exhaustion (Bosnia) or the defeat of one
side (the Serbs in Kosovo). Moreover, the relative success in former Yugoslavia
and East Timor came after large waves of ethnic cleansing that led to reduced
friction between the rival populations.41
In the case at hand, the Palestinians, especially the extremists, still have considerable energy and there is no separation between Jews and Arabs in Israel.
Furthermore, the proposed foreign forces are to come in place of a bilateral
agreement. In addition, peacekeeping forces placed in the Arab–Israeli arena
have failed to accomplish their goals a number of times in the past. The UN
forces placed on the Egyptian border did not fulfill their role in 1967; they were
evacuated upon Egyptian demand, while Israel’s opinion was ignored. UNIFIL
(UN Interim Force in Lebanon) forces in south Lebanon were also unsuccessful
in providing an efficient buffer and, at times, even cooperated with Israel’s
enemies. The upgraded UNIFIL following the 2006 Israel–Hizballah War is
unlikely to perform better.
American attempts at peacemaking have had similarly questionable results.
Willingness to suffer losses in cases not defined as vital to US security is
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The twenty-first-century challenges
extremely low.42 The US retreated from Lebanon in 1982 and from Somalia in
1992 due to local resistance. The short military involvement of the US in Haiti
in 1994 did not achieve its goal. The US takeover of Afghanistan has not totally
eradicated terror centers, and in fact the number of American forces has
dropped, due to replacement by soldiers from other countries, without stability
being achieved. Similarly, the American experience in Iraq that believes capacity and determination will bring order to various parts of the world, especially
hostile Muslim regions, is still questionable.
A US military presence in Palestine would undoubtedly face suicide attacks
by Hamas and Islamic Jihad and wide support for these organizations by Palestinian society. US forces would lack the good intelligence vital for fighting
terror and their deployment could not create a continuous buffer against terrorists. Moreover, international involvement would enable the Palestinians to avoid
dismantling the terror infrastructure and spare them the need to negotiate with
Israel with regard to demilitarization, limiting their sovereignty.
American failure in foiling terror activities would be an unavoidable source
of tension between Israel and the US. Predictably, there would also be disagreements over the need for Israeli military action to prevent attacks.
Bringing in American forces as a buffer between Palestinians and Israelis
would put one of the pillars of Israeli national security – the strategic partnership with the US – at risk. American losses in defending Israel would erode
support for the Jewish state. An even worse outcome would be unintentional
American casualties resulting from Israeli military raids against terror
organizations.
So far, the interest in international trusteeship has been limited, but it may
gain greater acceptance when it is realized that the ‘Road Map’, the diplomatic
plan to which everybody pays lip-service, is leading nowhere. Israel has the
diplomatic leverage to oppose the idea of international (American) trusteeship,
which would not serve to make the Palestinians cease their terror and reach an
interim agreement.
Conflict management
Unfortunately, not every protracted conflict has an immediately available solution. In the absence of a negotiating partner ready to make the necessary compromises for reaching a negotiated agreement, the appropriate strategy for
Israel is conflict management. The essence of such a strategy is to minimize the
cost of armed conflict and preserve freedom for political maneuvering. Its goal
is also to buy time, on the assumption that the future may bring about better
alternatives. This conflict management strategy requires a set of well-integrated
military and diplomatic measures to deal with the Palestinians, with the international arena and with the home front. The main components of the conflict
management strategy are: containment of Palestinian terrorism, strategic
coordination with the US, aggressive public diplomacy, and careful attention to
the home front.
Israel’s Palestinian challenge 203
Containing terrorism
Due to the characteristics of the Israeli–Palestinian confrontation, the elimination of terror is not a realistic goal; reducing its effects to a bearable level is.
Israel has learned through trial and error how to contain terrorism. Israeli
counter-terrorism measures eventually brought the Palestinians to a ceasefire in
2005. Israeli defensive measures, primarily the establishment of a security
barrier, had only limited value, while offensive measures were over time more
effective in destroying the organizational capabilities developed by the Palestinians to harm Israel. Decapitation of the Palestinian militias, by apprehending
their senior officers (the preferred method) or by eliminating them via targeted
killing proved to be the best way to paralyze their activities.43 The militias
simply could not meet the replacement ratio needed to preserve the operational
capabilities. Close cooperation between the intelligence units allowed for a substantial reduction in time of the sensor to shooter circuit. Excellent intelligence
and the development of suitable tactics for the use of discriminate force were
obviously prerequisites for the IDF’s successful campaign.44 The IDF also perfected its highly discriminate use of force, significantly reducing the number of
non-combatants hurt in the course of its operations.45
Israeli military policy was tailored so as not to exact too high a price from the
civilian Palestinian population. While the inevitable economic pressure was also
intended to increase Palestinian weariness of the conflict with Israel, international aid to the Palestinians and the limited economic activity within the PA
were allowed to continue. Israel also supplied water and electricity and allowed
limited access to its labor market. Despite the hardships imposed by curfews,
sieges and road-blocks, Israel was careful not to take excessively harsh measures
that would push the Palestinians into great despair, increasing motivation for
violence against Jews. Moreover, the development of a humanitarian disaster
was not only morally problematic, but also inimical to Israeli interests to minimize international attention focused on the Israeli–Palestinian confrontation.
The collapse of the PA is not an Israeli goal because Jerusalem does not want to
be burdened with the responsibility for the welfare of 2.5 million Palestinians in
the West Bank and Gaza.46 In sum, the calibrated use of force and economic
pressure has been successful in containing terrorism at a bearable level and in
minimizing the chances for regional escalation or international involvement.
Such a policy mix is a central element in the conflict management strategy.
Obviously, such a strategy requires constant re-evaluation and adjustment in
response to the level of terror experienced, and the evolving regional and international dynamics.
Strategic coordination with the US
On a political level, Israel has always been very careful to pay attention to the
American factor.47 Since the mid-1960s, Israeli leaders have constantly looked
toward Washington to gauge its reactions to Israeli policy preferences. This
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The twenty-first-century challenges
behavior became more pronounced after the fall of the Berlin Wall. After all,
the US is the hegemonic world power in the post-Cold War period with many
interests in the Middle East.48 Israel is a small state and is still relatively
dependent upon American economic and diplomatic support. Despite Israel’s
advanced military industries, the US has remained the major weapon supplier
for the IDF. Israel’s freedom of military action against the Palestinians is
clearly defined by a continuous US–Israeli dialogue. Moreover, any major
Israeli diplomatic initiative needs American imprimatur to get off the ground.
Former Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon first secured the approval of President Bush for his plan to unilaterally withdraw from Gaza before submitting it
for formal approval to his cabinet. With Washington by its side, Jerusalem can
pay less attention to what other major powers may want to achieve in the
Middle East. The US position is cardinal in maintaining a ban on extending aid
to the Hamas government in the PA. Moreover, only the US has the diplomatic
clout to prevent the internationalization of the conflict. In short, coordination
with Washington is vital when living in a tough neighborhood such as the
Middle East, where the use of force is part and parcel of the rules of the game.
With no end to the Israeli–Palestinian conflict in sight, and with grave security
threats looming on the horizon, Israel would be wise to nourish its relationship
with the US.
Public diplomacy
The erosion of Israel’s international legitimacy is one of the main negative consequences caused by the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. Regaining the moral upper
ground in the conflict with the Palestinians is extremely important. This requires
an aggressive public diplomacy campaign. The details of such a public diplomacy are addressed elsewhere.49 What is important, however, is to clearly
identify the Palestinians as the enemies of peace, rather than ‘partners for
peace’. Israel’s reluctance to remove the mask of the corrupt and authoritarian
Arafat, who turned a blind eye to terror, allowed the Palestinians to deny their
basic violations of the ‘peace process’, whose continuation was primarily contingent upon Israeli self-delusion. Portraying Israel as an embattled Western
democracy fighting a society obsessed with the use of violence, united by an
abysmal hatred toward Jews, and largely a partner to widespread Arab antiWestern sentiments, should be the main motif of the campaign.
With Hamas taking control of the PA the task is easier, but Jerusalem needs
clarity of purpose, a sophisticated strategy, determination and resources to help
the enlightened world judge that Israel is fighting the bad guys. Public diplomacy designed to improve Israel’s international status would complement the
other elements in the strategy of conflict management. A better international
atmosphere toward Israel would make it easier to operate in Washington. It
would also make it easier to block domestic criticism of the harsher aspects of
policies toward the Palestinians and maintain social cohesion in Israel, the
subject to which we turn next.
Israel’s Palestinian challenge 205
The home front
Domestic politics are of great consequence in war and particularly in protracted
conflict.50 Therefore, the conflict management strategy has to focus on preserving the social cohesion needed to withstand protracted conflict. Since September
2000, Israeli society has shown remarkable resilience.51 Israeli toughness
derived primarily from the understanding that the war imposed on Israel by the
Palestinians was a result of Arafat’s intransigence in rejecting Israel’s generous
peace offer at Camp David. In Israeli political parlance, the Palestinian terror
campaign was a ‘no choice war’.52 Convincing most Israelis that the chances for
peace had not been squandered is therefore a prerequisite for social cohesion.
Israeli governments must demonstrate a willingness to make concessions in the
case of the emergence of a suitable Palestinian partner. Of course, with a Hamas
government of the PA most Israelis are convinced that the Palestinians are
continuing to cling to ‘politicide’ and that there is not much sense in negotiations with such a political entity. This strengthens the ‘no choice’ sentiment – a
principal element in Israel’s resilience.
What next?
It has become increasingly clear that a two-state settlement is elusive because of
the Palestinian national movement’s inability to accept a historic compromise
with the Zionist movement and its failure to establish and maintain a viable
state. Even with the best of intentions and much territorial largesse there is
nothing Israel can do to bring about a Palestinian state any time soon. What we
see in the Palestinian territories is another example of a ‘failed state’, such as
Somalia or Haiti. The chaotic situation is likely to continue in the near future.
The political good fortune of Hamas is unlikely to change the direction of the
main vectors in Palestinian politics dooming the PA to ‘failed state’ status.
Israel will have to continue to live with the negative effects of nationalism
and Islamic radicalization among the Palestinians for the foreseeable future.
There is little Israel can do to improve the lot of the Palestinians and/or to
change their behavior and the country is basically left with only a conflict management strategy, designed to minimize the costs of the conflict and to buy time
for the emergence of better political options. Only the gradual realization that
the PA is a failure will allow the emergence of a new paradigm, ending the illusions of the Palestinian option.
The contours of a more stable arrangement replacing the PA seem to be in
place. Despite their misgivings, the Egyptians are coming to the conclusion that
their return to rule the Gaza Strip, albeit indirectly for the time being, would be a
lesser evil than the emergence of a Hamas-led entity there. Their presence and
influence can already be felt in Gaza following Israel’s unilateral withdrawal in
August 2005. Similarly, the Jordanians may decide that the revisionist Palestinian identity nourished in the West Bank is too threatening to their state to be left
unattended, owing to their own demographic predicament created by a high
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The twenty-first-century challenges
proportion of Jordanian Palestinians. Resuscitating the idea of a Jordanian–West
Bank federation, with the Hashemites at the helm, is not without appeal among
Palestinians thirsty for some calm and stability.53 Actually, as many as
47 percent of Palestinians agreed in March 2006 to dissolve the PA.54 Redirecting Gaza toward Egypt and relinking the West Bank to Jordan would probably
be a better way to deal with the Palestinian nationalist movement than to try
giving it a state. A US role in such a radical departure from the international
conventional wisdom would be necessary in order to overcome the inertia of
outdated thinking. This requires Israeli efforts to convince the American foreign
policy community about the futility of the two-state paradigm and the need to
explore new ways to deal with the failure of the PA. A new formula – what may
be termed a regional approach – will not necessarily offer a neat solution, or put
an end to all violence. Much ambiguity about sovereignty and borders might not
be eliminated, but involving responsible states such as Jordan and Egypt is at
least a realistic attempt to deal with the consequences of unrealizable political
dreams.
14 The need to block a nuclear Iran
With each day, Iran grows closer to acquiring nuclear weapons. Tehran has
evaded the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) safeguards and has
built a militarily significant nuclear program. Iran has resisted all diplomatic
pressure to discontinue this program and seems intent on producing highly
enriched uranium (HEU), which constitutes the final and critical stage in the
construction of a nuclear bomb. In mid-January 2006, Iranians decided to break
the IAEA seals on some of their nuclear facilities, signaling Tehran’s determination to proceed with its centrifuge uranium enrichment program. Indeed, Iran
announced formally on 11 April 2006 that it has completed the experimental
stage of uranium enrichment on its way to fissile material.
Official statements by the leaders of Western countries indicate growing
exasperation with Iran’s behavior on the nuclear issue and unwillingness to bow
to demands that the country abandon its plans to produce fissile material.1 US
ambassador to the UN John Bolton expressed a ‘sense of urgency’ on this issue.2
Even Mohammed El Baradei, Director General of the IAEA, said that the world
is losing patience with Iran.3
Within the international community, Israel seems most concerned about the
prospects of a nuclear Iran. In December 2005, Meir Dagan, Chief of the Israeli
Mossad, warned that Iran’s strategic decision to acquire the technological basis
to become a nuclear power would be realized within a few months.4 The Chief
of Staff of the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF), Lt. Gen. Dan Halutz, offered a
similar evaluation on 4 December 2005, while a few days earlier the Chief of the
IDF Intelligence Department, Maj. Gen. Aharon Zeevi (Farkash), had warned
that March 2006 constituted the ‘point of no return’, indicating that after such a
date, any diplomatic efforts to curtail the Iranian nuclear program would be
pointless. No explanation of the term ‘point of no return’ was offered, leaving it
unclear, although it probably refers to a certain measure of nuclear technological
ripeness.
This chapter reviews Iran’s nuclear program and presents its strategic rationale. It subsequently analyzes the nature and the magnitude of the Iranian
nuclear threat. It ends with a review of the available options for halting the
country’s nuclear program, including the wisdom of a military strike aimed at
curbing Iran’s nuclear effort.
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The twenty-first-century challenges
The Iranian nuclear program
The Iranian nuclear program began during the reign of the Shah, reflecting
Iran’s perception of itself as a great power and an ancient civilization with hegemonic aspirations in its region.5 After a period of suspension by the Islamic
republic, the program was resumed. Despite the cover-up attempts, a great deal
of Iran’s nuclear infrastructure is known. Many known Iranian nuclear activities
are suitable for military nuclear applications, and some activities have little or
no suitability for any other purpose.6 Iran has been constructing a reactor at Arak
moderated by heavy water and fueled with natural uranium, a type highly suitable for producing weapon-grade plutonium. This fissile material comprises the
core of any nuclear bomb. Iran has also built a uranium conversion facility at
Isfahan, to convert uranium core concentrate (Yellowcake) into the uranium
hexafluoride (UF6) gas suitable for enrichment at the centrifuge enrichment
plant in Natanz. Highly Enriched Uranium (HEU) is also fissile material.7
There are additional indications that Iran has worked on plutonium separation
and on a bomb design. Technology transfer from China, Russia, and especially
Pakistan, complemented by purchases of nuclear-relevant components in
Western Europe, provided the technical and engineering knowhow for the
Iranian nuclear scientists to make progress along the nuclear path. While Iran’s
rate of progress is disputed among intelligence services, it could clearly become
a nuclear power in the near future. The timetable for assembling a nuclear
device is influenced by Iran’s capability to cross two thresholds: the production
of a sufficient amount of fissile material for the bomb’s core and the bomb
design itself. Work on the two enterprises can be undertaken concurrently.
The Islamic Republic of Iran has invested tremendous political capital and
vast resources in going nuclear. This behavior has added strain in its relations
with the United States. The tense relationship was reinforced by the hostility displayed by radical Islamic elements of the regime. Tehran’s overall antiAmerican foreign policy has resulted in the inclusion of Iran in President George
W. Bush’s ‘Axis of Evil’ list in January 2002.
The Iranian sense of vulnerability and threat perception increased following
the American military presence in Afghanistan, on Iran’s eastern border, and the
US invasion of Iraq, on its western border. The two invasions caused Tehran to
feel encircled by the United States and more exposed to a potential American
attack. Tehran’s assiduous attempts to augment its deterrence stem from its fear
of attacks on the part of an imperially disposed America and/or its Middle East
allies. In addition, Iran shares a border with Pakistan, a nuclear-armed nation
since 1998. These factors provide Iran with an additionally strong incentive for
walking the nuclear path.
From an Iranian perspective, the North Korean example is also a compelling
one. While the United States did not hesitate to invade Iraq, which it believed to
be striving toward weapons of mass destruction (WMD), it refrained from
attacking North Korea that abrogated the 1994 Agreed Framework with Washington, defiantly withdrew from the Nuclear Proliferation Treaty, and announced
The need to block a nuclear Iran
209
its possession of a nuclear deterrent. The fact that North Korea was much closer
to producing a nuclear bomb than Iraq seemed to have constituted a critical difference that moderated the American response to a similar challenge.8 North
Korea’s more developed nuclear program provided a modicum of deterrence.
While the regional context (i.e., the proximity of great powers such as China,
Russia and Japan) probably played no less of a role in determining the US reaction, Iran may have learned the lesson that the nuclear bomb can serve as a good
insurance policy against outside intervention.
Accelerating its nuclear program seems the most appealing option for Iran.
The country has admitted that it has clandestinely produced small amounts of
fissile material (plutonium). It might succeed in acquiring sufficient weapon
grade plutonium or HEU, and has probably worked for some time on assembling
a deliverable nuclear weapon – though it may stop short of actually testing a
nuclear device. Iran could therefore rely on interested intelligence agencies and
attentive observers to surmise that a weapons capability exists or could quickly
be realized. Nuclear opaqueness, which is not an Iranian invention, has its strategic benefits.9
It is highly unlikely that Iran will adopt a policy of nuclear reversal reminiscent of South Africa, Argentina or Brazil.10 Its security predicament is very different from the strategic environments of Sub-Saharan Africa or Latin America
that allowed nuclear abstinence. Moreover, the stakes of the ruling elite in Iran
in the nuclear program are inextricably connected to its political and even physical survival, with an infinitely greater intensity than in the other states mentioned. The regime in Tehran may well have come to the conclusion that the
speedy and successful culmination of nuclear efforts could serve as a guarantee
to its future at home. Destabilizing the regime of a nuclear state, which may lead
to chronic domestic instability, civil war or disintegration, is a more risky enterprise than undermining a non-nuclear regime.
In light of the growing widespread concern about its nuclear aspirations,
Tehran’s best option is to continue negotiations with various representatives of
the international community. Even after the Iranian matter is brought to the UN
Security Council (UNSC), diplomatic negotiations are likely to continue in order
to determine the reaction of the UNSC. This amounts to a temporary stalemate.
Tehran will try to buy time as discussions drag on or are temporarily suspended
between rounds to allow for additional consultations. Hassan Rowhani, who
headed the Iranian negotiating team with the Europeans, revealed how Tehran
played for time to dupe the West after its secret nuclear program was uncovered
by the Iranian opposition in 2002.11 Such an Iranian strategy of ‘talk and build’
capitalizes on European and American reluctance to escalate. Deciding that
negotiations are useless requires alternative action, which is not an enticing
option.
Essentially, inconclusive talks preserve a status quo, a tense stand-off in
which Iran can go on with its opaque, though no longer clandestine, nuclear
program. Indeed, a strategy of ‘talk and build’ accompanied by temporary concessions postpones diplomatic and economic pressures and, most importantly,
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preventive military strikes by the United States. Tehran is undoubtedly watching
the developments in Korea, and insufficient American determination to put an
end to the Korean nuclear program will encourage Iranian procrastination.
Moreover, Iran’s sense of vulnerability is accompanied by an evaluation that a
US embroiled in Iraq is weak, while the higher energy prices enhance the
Iranian hand in international negotiations.
Iran’s nuclear program was initiated with the intention of acquiring hegemony in the region and the ability to play the role of a great power in world
affairs. Nowadays, it also seems to be designed to provide a strategic response to
American political and cultural hegemony in world affairs. Tehran wants to be
able to continue to oppose American policies and to deter possible American
action against the radical Islamic regime. Similarly, it wants to block the influence of American culture, which is perceived as decadent and particularly dangerous.12 Yet Iran’s current nuclear appetite also stems from theological
motivations. Some Ayatollahs also view an Iran armed with nuclear weapons as
an instrument in Allah’s hand to impose Islam upon the entire world, believing
that they, the Ayatollahs, have been chosen by Allah to carry out His mission.13
President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad reported having a vision when defending
Iran’s right to master nuclear technology at the UN General Assembly in the fall
of 2005. This ideological dimension of the Iranian nuclear rationale is quite
troubling. Indeed, a stalemate that permits Iran to move forward with its nuclear
program would pose grave threats to regional security as discussed below.
The nature of the threat
The Islamic Republic of Iran is the greatest, most urgent threat to regional order
in the Middle East and a challenge to American hegemony in world affairs. Iran
is a revisionist state trying to export its Islamic revolution, a mission intertwined
with the nationalistic aspirations for grandeur rooted in a historic awareness of
being an ancient civilization. In its behavior, revolutionary Iran largely conforms
to what Yehezkel Dror termed a ‘crazy state’.14 Such a state is characterized by
far-reaching goals in its foreign policy, a propensity for high-risk policies, intensive commitment and determination to implement these policies, and unconventional diplomatic style. If Iran becomes nuclear, these foreign policy features
will probably be even more pronounced.
Iran actively supports the insurgency in Iraq against the establishment of a
stable, pro-American regime. Tehran encourages radical Shi’a elements in Iraq
in order to promote the establishment of another Islamic republic and foments
trouble in the Shi’a communities in the Gulf States. It opposes a more liberal
regime that could potentially serve as a catalyst for democratization in the area.
Iran is allied with Syria, another radical state with an anti-American predisposition, and seeks to create a radical Shi’a corridor from Iran to the Mediterranean.
Moreover, Tehran lends critical support to terrorist organizations such as
Hizballah, Hamas and Islamic Jihad.15 According to the US State Department,
Iran is the most active state sponsor of terrorism.16
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A nuclear Iran would be less deterred to encourage Islamist groups in Turkey –
an alternative secular model for development in the Muslim world. Iran may be
tempted to tip the balance in favor of the Islamists in the current identity crisis in
Turkey.
A nuclear Iran will also be more influential in Central Asia. It may well
change the pro-Western orientation of several elites in this important region.
Iran’s nuclear program coupled with long-range delivery systems, in particular, threatens regional stability in the Middle East. Iran possesses the Shehab-3
long-range missile (with a range of 1,300 km) that can probably be nucleartipped and is working on extending the range of its ballistic arsenal. American
allies, such as Israel, Turkey, Saudi Arabia and Gulf States, are within range, as
well as several important US bases. Maj. Gen. Zeevi reported that Iran has also
acquired twelve cruise missiles with a range of up to 3,000 km and with an
ability to carry nuclear warheads.17
Further improvements in Iranian missiles would initially put most European
capitals, and eventually the North American continent, within range of a potential Iranian attack. Iran has an ambitious satellite launching program based on
the use of multi-stage, solid propellant launchers, with intercontinental ballistic
missile properties to enable the launching of a 300-kilogram satellite within two
years. If Iran achieves this goal, it will put many more states at risk of a future
nuclear attack.18
The nuclear ambitions of the Islamic Republic of Iran are, of course, a challenge to the international nuclear non-proliferation regime (NPT). A nuclear Iran
might well bring an end to this regime and to American attempts to curb proliferation in the Middle East and in other parts of the world.
Indeed, the emergence of a nuclear-armed Iran would have a chain-effect,
generating further nuclear proliferation in the immediate region. Middle Eastern
leaders, who invariably display high-threat perceptions, are unlikely to look nonchalantly on a nuclear Iran. States such as Turkey, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and, of
course, Iraq would hardly be persuaded by the United States that it can provide a
nuclear umbrella against Iranian nuclear blackmail or actual nuclear attack.
American-extended deterrence is very problematic in the Middle East.19 Therefore, these states would not resist the temptation to counter Iranian influence by
adopting similar nuclear postures.
The resulting scenario of a multipolar nuclear Middle East would be a recipe
for disaster. This strategic prognosis is a result of two factors: (1) the inadequacy
of a defensive posture against nuclear tipped missiles; and 2) the difficulties
surrounding the establishment of stable nuclear deterrence in the region.
Missiles are the most effective means of delivering nuclear weapons. While
the United States is developing a Ballistic Missile Defense (BMD) system and
Russia claims to have a missile intercept capability with its S-300 missile
system, only Israel possesses a serious capability to parry a nuclear missile
attack. Israel has developed a defensive layer around the Arrow-2 anti-ballistic
missile, which is designed to intercept the family of Scud missiles. This
program, which began in the late 1980s, benefited from generous American
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The twenty-first-century challenges
funding and amounts to the only deployed operational anti-ballistic missile
system so far in the world.20 Since 2000, Israel has deployed several operational
batteries of Arrow missiles. The interception range is about 150 km from
Israel’s borders. Yet, no defense system is foolproof. The Arrow-2 provides a
certain measure of protection, but it is a first generation weapon system, and
even its developers do not claim a one hundred percent interception rate. Moreover, it is not clear how the Arrow would function if enemy missiles were
equipped with countermeasures or if the enemy were to use saturation tactics.21
Israel has hitherto had the upper hand in the regional technological race, but
there are no assurances that this will always be so. The difficulties that Israel
faces in dealing with Katyushas, Qassams and tunnels show that Israeli ingenuity may not come up with immediate adequate responses. This is true of the
United States as well. Even if defensive solutions are eventually devised, there
may be windows of vulnerability, which could be of catastrophic dimensions in
a nuclear scenario.
All Middle Eastern states are so far defenseless against Iranian missiles.
Indeed, as the Iranian nuclear program progresses, one can clearly detect a rise
in threat perception on the part of most Arab states in the region. Several states
within Iranian range, such as Turkey and India, have shown interest in purchasing the Israeli BMD system, whose export requires American approval.
However, at present, while Israel is partly protected from Iranian nuclear missiles, the rest of the region remains vulnerable to such a threat.
The Iranian nuclear threat is also to be taken seriously in light of the difficulties of achieving a stable deterrence with Tehran.22 Unfortunately, there are
scholars who belittle such fears by releasing optimistic evaluations regarding a
potentially stable ‘balance of terror’ between Israel and Iran, modeled on the
relationship between the two superpowers during the Cold War. Such a bilateral
relationship, where the two sides deter each other, cannot be easily emulated in
the Middle East. A ‘balance of terror’ between two nuclear protagonists is never
automatic, and could not be taken for granted even between the United States
and the Soviet Union. Unfortunately, the situation in the Middle East is even
less stable.
A second-strike capability, which allows a state to respond in kind after being
subjected to a nuclear attack, is critical in establishing credible deterrence.
During the Cold War, submarines constituted the platform for any second-strike
capability; the difficulty in locating them under water rendered them less vulnerable to an enemy first-strike attack. Indeed, the Soviet Union and United States
relied on the survivability and mobility of submarines, characteristics that would
enable them to carry out a second strike with nuclear-tipped missiles. While the
superpowers possessed large submarine fleets, it is doubtful that any Middle
Eastern power owns enough submarines equipped to do the job. Israel’s current
fleet includes three Dolphin-class submarines, to be augmented by the end of the
decade by two additional vessels recently purchased in Germany. However, it is
not clear whether the Israeli submarines carry enough punch to deter adversaries. In this context, it is important to note that no fleet can ever be fully
The need to block a nuclear Iran
213
operational. Some vessels are in port for maintenance, while others are en route
to the designated area of operations or on their way back to the home port. Furthermore, the most appropriate launching area in the Indian Ocean is far away
from Israel.23
More significant is the fact that maintaining a second-strike capability is an
ongoing process requiring continuous improvement, which depends to a large
extent on the adversary’s actions. Such a process is inherently uncertain and
ambiguous. Moreover, before an initial ‘effective’ second-strike capability is
achieved, a nuclear race may create the fear of a first-strike nuclear attack, which
might in itself trigger a nuclear exchange. This is all the more probable because
adequate warning systems cannot be erected when the distances between
enemies are so small, as is the case in the Middle East. The influence of haste
and the need to respond quickly can have extremely dangerous consequences.
The discussion above has focused on the problems of establishing bilateral
nuclear deterrence between Iran and Israel. In a nuclear multipolar environment,
achieving stable deterrence would be even more difficult. Deterrence may work
in part because a threat is transmitted correctly and not misread by the enemy.
Yet, Middle Eastern countries have not established any hotlines or special communication links with Iran and/or each other, which could have serious consequences in a nuclear crisis. In the Middle East, communication is not only a
technological problem, but is also a political problem, as several states have
refrained from establishing diplomatic links with a number of regional capitals.
Middle Eastern powers would also have to establish early warning systems
searching in all directions. Moreover, the requirements for an ‘all-directions’
second-strike force are very complicated. In addition, the rather rudimentary
nuclear forces in the region would be likely to be prone to accidents and mistakes. The newly acquired nuclear arsenals would lack the sophisticated technology of the great powers, which reduces such mishaps through devices for
locking, fusing, remotely controlling and releasing nuclear warheads from afar.
Nuclear arms in the hands of several Middle East powers would actually
increase the possibility of pre-emptive strikes and catalytic wars.
While it may be argued that Middle East leaders behave rationally, many of
them engage in ‘brinkmanship’ leading to miscalculation. Even of greater consequence, their sensitivity to costs and their attitudes to human life hardly
conform to Western values. Iranian leaders have said that they are ready to pay a
heavy price for the destruction of the Jewish state. For example, on 14 December 2001, the Ayatollah Ali Akbar Hashemi-Rafsanjani declared that the use of a
nuclear bomb against Israel would destroy the Jewish state, producing only
‘damages in the Muslim world’.24 Moreover, while Arab leaders issued similar
statements in the past, the historical animosity between Persians and Arabs
could also produce motivations to use nuclear weapons under extreme circumstances. Strong mutual mistrust, a basic feature of Middle Eastern political
culture, creates a psychological environment that is conducive to rigidity and
inflexibility. These are highly dangerous qualities in a nuclear situation, where it
is important to leave the enemy a way to retreat, what Thomas Schelling calls
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the ‘last clear chance’.25 The ‘dialectics of the antagonists’26 in the Middle East
can hardly turn a ‘balance of terror’ into a ‘balance of prudence’, in which each
adversary exerts maximum caution and consideration, permitting coexistence.
Nuclear deterrence is probably harder to achieve than deterrence theorists had
believed, because there is great variation in how people calculate their interests
and react to threats.
Furthermore, as the nuclear taboo is eroding at the interstate level, Iran, or a
faction, or even individual officials in the government may decide to pass a
nuclear device to a terrorist organization, such as Hamas or Hizballah, to be
used against Israel or a ‘heretic’ (Muslim or Christian) regime.27 This possibility
is intensified by the fact that the weapons are apparently institutionally under the
control of hardliners even in the context of the Iranian government, such as the
Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps. The ‘crazy state’ posture may be conducive
toward Iranian nuclear largesse to other radical Islamic groups operating outside
the Middle East. The Iranians have used proxies to carry out attacks against their
enemies in the past. An indirect mode of operation would put many capitals in
the world in danger and make Iran a somewhat less likely subject to retaliation.
In any case, a nuclear Iran might provide emboldened global jihadist terrorist
groups a haven where they think they are immune to Western reach.
A nuclear Iran would also enhance Iranian hegemony in the strategic energy
sector, by its mere location along the oil-rich Persian Gulf area and the Caspian
Basin. These two adjacent regions form the ‘energy ellipse’, which holds over
70 percent of the world’s proven oil and over 40 percent of natural gas
reserves.28 Giving revolutionary Iran improved ability to intimidate the governments controlling parts of this huge energy reservoir would further strengthen
Iran’s position in the region and world affairs. Such a position would also make
Iran’s containment even more difficult and would necessarily embolden Islamic
radicals everywhere.
For Israel, a nuclear Iran constitutes an existential threat. The tripartite combination of a radical Islamic regime, long-range missile capability and nuclear
weapons is extremely perilous. Due to its small and dense population, Israel is
exceedingly vulnerable to a nuclear attack. In December 2005, Israel’s Prime
Minister Ariel Sharon termed the Iranian program ‘a grave threat’, stressing that
Israel ‘cannot accept a nuclear Iran’.29 This statement is a reflection of a longheld high-threat perception of a large part of Israel’s strategic community.
Indeed, Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin (1992–95) already perceived Islamic Iran,
which was engaged in acquiring a nuclear capability and in sponsoring terror, as
Israel’s arch-enemy,30 while all his successors maintained this assessment. While
Israel was pleased with the change of tone in Tehran toward the United States
after Ayatollah Mohammed Khatami was elected as President in 1997, Tehran
continued to retain its anti-Israeli policy.31
Iranian President Ahmadinejad, elected in June 2005, has contributed to
Israel’s fears by issuing a series of inflammatory statements. On 26 October
2005, he called for ‘Israel to be wiped off the map’. On 14 December 2005, in a
speech that was televised live, Ahmadinejad denied that the Holocaust had ever
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215
happened, suggesting that Israel’s Jews be relocated to Europe or even to
Alaska. Such statements from high-ranking officials cannot be dismissed as pure
rhetoric; they reflect a policy preference. An Iran strengthened by a nuclear
arsenal may pursue such a policy.
In summary, an Iranian nuclear bomb would bring about additional nuclear
proliferation in the region, enhance the power of a ‘crazy state’, and embolden
Islamic radicals elsewhere. In addition, the technological uncertainties of a
defensive system and the possibility of establishing stable nuclear deterrence
lead to the inescapable conclusion that regional security is best served by
denying Iran a nuclear bomb.
Blocking Iran’s nuclear aspirations
There are several ways to deal with the Iranian nuclear challenge. These options
are discussed below.
Diplomacy
For many years, Iran deceived the IAEA, violating the safeguards agreement
and failing to report the full scope of its nuclear activities. Finally, Iran was
asked to freeze its uranium enrichment program, and to sign the Additional Protocol to the safeguards agreement with the IAEA, allowing for more intrusive
international supervision. A high-profile visit by the foreign ministers of France,
Germany and the United Kingdom (EU-3) in October 2003 signaled the European attempt to apply heavy diplomatic pressure. For two years, the Europeans
conducted negotiations with Iran in an attempt to reach an agreement. The European approach, which Washington decided to go along with for a while, was to
create a political atmosphere that delegitimized the Iranian quest for a nuclear
bomb and to provide incentives for Iran to cooperate on the nuclear issue.
Yet, after several suspensions in the talks with the Europeans, the Iranians
have rejected the European ‘carrots’ offered to them. In all probability, the West
has nothing to offer that can dissuade Iran from going nuclear, particularly since
the nuclear program is viewed as the best insurance policy for the current leadership and is probably the single most popular policy associated with this regime.
Iran is a clear case where all means of persuasion, short of the use of force, are
ineffective. ‘Soft power’ has its limitations.32
The United States probably decided to go through the motions required by
the Europeans in order to secure European support for a tougher approach once
diplomacy has run its course. The United States even lent its support to the
Russian offer to conduct the enrichment of Iranian uranium on its soil for the
same reason. Washington preferred to raise the issue of Iran at the UNSC in
order to impose economic sanctions and eventually secure international legitimacy for military action against the nuclear installations.
Iran’s intransigent behavior and growing impatience on the part of the international community, combined with US pressure, convinced the IAEA to finally
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The twenty-first-century challenges
recognize Iran’s non-compliance with its treaty obligations in September 2005,
although the Board of Governors of the IAEA that met again in November 2005
postponed the referral of the Iranian case to the UNSC in order to allow more time
for negotiations. This postponement served Iranian interests in gaining time within
its ‘talk and build’ strategy. Only in February 2006 did the United States finally
win approval from all key players in the IAEA, especially Russia and China, to
send the issue of Iran’s highly suspect nuclear program to the UNSC. In an
attempt to galvanize an international coalition in favour of sanctions, Washington
announced at the end of May 2006 its new readiness to enter negotiations with
Iran on the nuclear issue, on condition that Tehran suspends Uranium enrichment.
Economic sanctions
As the diplomatic option is being exhausted and in the absence of a clear
unequivocal nuclear reversal on the part of Iran, the United States will try to
prod the UNSC into eventually imposing a strict set of sanctions against Tehran
that include economic and political isolation combined with a military quarantine tightly controlling what flows in and out of Iran. While the Europeans may
join the United States in mandating and applying sanctions, China and Russia,
which have veto power in the UNSC, are less likely to cooperate in engineering
an American-sponsored campaign against Iran. They have their own economic
interests in Iran and want to play a role in the region rather than defer to American leadership. Eventually, the UNSC may decide on sanctions, whose content
effectiveness is primarily dependent upon the need to forge an international consensus.33 Clearly, China and Russia have no strategic interest in a nuclear Iran
and would eventually join the sanctions, but they prefer Iran to respond to their
proposals rather than to American initiatives.
There are also a number of specific factors discouraging countries from supporting sanctions against Iran, ranging from fear of Tehran’s sponsorship of terrorism to economic costs, or desire to gain Iranian cooperation on other issues.
US sanctions against Iran have also long been in place without forcing Tehran to
change policy.
While economic sanctions would certainly hurt the Iranian economy, which
is greatly dependent upon refined oil products,34 economic pressures are not the
best means to stop Iran going nuclear. The international studies literature displays serious skepticism regarding the effectiveness of economic sanctions.35
Often, such sanctions merely serve to make a point and to keep an issue alive in
the absence of the political will to take military measures to remedy the situation. Moreover, in the past, societies and regimes have demonstrated great
resilience in the face of economic sanctions and capacity to withstand pain.
Islamic Iran, which seeks a nuclear bomb primarily to gain regional hegemony and to allow it to oppose a Pax Americana, is ready to pay a high price for
its foreign policy orientation. Actually, external pressure has been used more
than once as a focal point for rallying domestic support for the embattled
regime. Another major problem with economic sanctions is that it takes time to
The need to block a nuclear Iran
217
put them in place and to make them felt in the target country. In the case of Iran,
time is of critical importance, particularly if Iran wants to present the world with
a nuclear fait accompli.
Indirect pressure on Iran
The Iranian challenge could also be dealt with by adopting an indirect strategy.
This might require focusing on Syria – the weak link in Iran’s strategic outreach –
possibly even leading to the demise of that regime – and on Iran’s client Hizballah
group in Lebanon. The Ba’ath regime is under increasing international and
domestic pressure. Cornering Tehran’s regional allies will weaken and isolate Iran,
possibly making the Islamic republic more susceptible to Western pressures.
Another aspect of the indirect approach on the nuclear issue, though in this
case dealing with Iran itself, would be to encourage regime change in Tehran.
This is particularly difficult in police states, such as Iran, where suppression is
effective in paralyzing any meaningful political opposition. Nevertheless, such
situations are not stable, and Iran has a history of popular uprisings.36 If it is true
that human beings prefer to live in freedom than in fear and that many are ready
to take personal risks to realize this dream,37 Iran could be ripe for removing the
yoke of the mullahs. Being more advanced than Arab states according to almost
every socio-economic criterion, Iran could be a better candidate for democratization. American diplomacy aimed at strengthening the dissenting voices in
Iran might be successful in fostering an effect similar to the one that brought
about the Soviet Empire’s disintegration.38
The indirect strategy is advantageous, as it rests on regional and domestic
dynamics while minimizing a popular Iranian antagonism toward the American
activist approach. Yet even if it were to be successful, such a strategy may again
take too much time. International procrastination and past diplomatic failures
to delay the Iranian program may leave no other choice but the military option to
prevent a nuclear Islamic Republic of Iran.
Coercive measures
Covert operations to block the Iranian nuclear program, if ever used, have
clearly failed. US ambassador John Bolton declared in 30 October 2003, when
serving as Under-secretary of State for Arms Control and International Security,
that the United States was actively seeking to curb proliferation. ‘Rogue states
such as Iran, North Korea, Syria, Libya and Cuba, whose pursuit of weapons of
mass destruction makes them hostile to US interests, will learn that their covert
programs will not escape either detection or consequences’, he warned.
While we will pursue diplomatic solutions whenever possible, the United
States and its allies must be willing to deploy more robust techniques, such
as the interdiction and seizure of illicit goods, the disruption of procurement
networks, sanctions, or other means.39
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The twenty-first-century challenges
While Israel was more taciturn about the issue, as threat perception increased,
Prime Minister Sharon decided in November 2003 to place the responsibility for
an integrated strategy to prevent the nuclearization of Iran in the hands of the
Mossad.40 Its head, retired Maj. Gen. Dagan, who has a rich history in combating terror, was appointed in September 2002 to hone the skills of this organization in covert operations. The declarations of Israeli senior officials in the
winter of 2005 to 2006 indicated greater alarm than before, meaning, inter alia,
that whatever means were taken failed to achieve the intended results.
One variant of covert operations is to focus on the highly skilled elements of
those working for the Iranian program. The Iranian nuclear program has a
limited number of scientists whose contribution is critical to its successful completion. The interested intelligence services have probably already identified the
key scientists who keep it moving. Removing these scientists would also affect
the possibility of renewing the nuclear efforts in case a freeze of the Iranian
program were to take place. Therefore, serious offers of refuge and a professional career in the West should be extended to these scientists. Alternatively,
they should be intimidated from further cooperation with the Iranian nuclear
program. It would not be impossible to organize a well-orchestrated campaign to
do so against those who prefer the patriotic option of continuing to serve their
state. In fact, the mere beginning of such a campaign of carrots and sticks may
deter others from cooperating with the Iranian nuclear program and hasten their
exit from Iran.
Another coercive option is a blockade on Iranian oil exports to signal to Iran
that the United States and the West mean business. With oil selling at over $60
per barrel (February 2006), oil exports are the source of enormous wealth used
by the ayatollahs to buttress the regime and pursue its nuclear program. Denying
a hefty income constitutes a threat to the regime. A blockade may indeed escalate into a tanker war as witnessed in the last years of the Iraq–Iran war, which
ended in Iran backing down.41
In the first decade of the twenty-first century, the US Naval and Air Forces
can police the Hormuz Straits in order to prevent Iranian oil from reaching the
market. While smuggling oil would still be possible, most Iranian oil exports
would be affected. Concern about the overall effect on oil markets and supply
would be a major factor deterring such a strategy, but this approach may well be
the only alternative to either a direct attack or accepting Iran’s possession of
nuclear weaponry.
The final option is the use of force. Presumably, the United States already has
contingency plans and training assets for an attack against Iran’s nuclear facilities.42 Israel conducted such a strike in 1981 against Iraq’s nuclear reactor,
which effectively ended Saddam Hussein’s nuclear potential. In a similar
fashion, prior to concluding the 1994 Agreed Framework with Pyongyang, the
Clinton Administration contemplated surgical strikes to end the North’s nuclear
weapons program.
While it is probably true that intelligence services cannot provide military
planners with a full and comprehensive picture of the Iranian nuclear program,
The need to block a nuclear Iran
219
what we know seems to be enough to allow identification of the main targets.
The military capability to hit all targets is important, but a partial destruction
would be enough to cripple Iran’s ability to build a nuclear bomb in the near
future. Moreover, no large-scale invasion is needed in order to do the job, but
only a sustained bombing campaign with commando strikes.
While Iran has spread out its nuclear facilities and built a large part of the
nuclear complex underground in order to protect it from conventional air strikes,
technological advances in penetration of underground facilities and increased
precision might allow for total destruction. The difficulties in dealing a severe
military blow to the Iranian nuclear program are generally exaggerated.43 A
detailed analysis of the military option is beyond the scope of this chapter, but
the American military definitely has the muscle and sophistication needed to
perform a pre-emptive strike in accordance with its new strategic doctrine, as
well as the capability for a sustained air campaign, if needed, to prevent the
reparation and reconstruction of the facilities targeted.
American declarations on this issue indicate a willingness to consider all
options. In January 2005, US Vice-President Dick Cheney expressed concern
that Israel might attack Iran, ‘Given the fact that Iran has a stated policy that
their objective is the destruction of Israel, the Israelis might well decide to act
first, and let the rest of the world worry about cleaning up the diplomatic mess
afterwards’, he said.44 This statement actually legitimized such action and subtly
threatened the Iranians that the United States might not be able to stop Israel
from acting unilaterally. In August 2005, on the eve of a trip to Europe, President Bush insisted that he wanted a peaceful, diplomatic solution to the Iranian
nuclear problem but refused to rule out military action.45 On several occasions,
Bush repeated this viewpoint.46 Several US senators also recognized that a military strike on Iran must be a foreign policy option.47
Despite the difficulties faced by the administration with regard to its Iraq
policy, American public opinion could conceivably be enlisted to back a military
strike on Iran if a clear-cut case is made that all other options have been
exhausted in the quest to prevent a very dangerous development, especially in
the period following a US withdrawal from Iraq. The changing atmosphere
toward Iran in Washington’s corridors of power affects the national mood.
Indeed, a Los Angeles Times poll of 27 January 2006 indicates that 57 percent of
Americans would back an attack on Iran if defiance persists.48A Pew Research
Center poll, released on 7 February 2006, showed that public concern over
Iran’s nuclear program has risen dramatically in the past few months. Twentyseven percent of Americans cite Iran as the country that represents the greatest
danger to the United States. In October 2005, just 9 percent pointed to Iran as
the biggest danger to the United States, while there was far more concern over
Iraq, China and North Korea.49 Nearly two-thirds (65 percent) believe that Iran’s
nuclear program is a major threat to the United States, placing it on a par with
North Korea’s nuclear program, and far ahead of China’s emerging power
among possible threats to the United States. Overwhelming numbers believe that
if Iran were to develop nuclear weapons it would likely launch attacks on
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The twenty-first-century challenges
Israel (72 percent), and the United States or Europe (66 percent). There is even
greater agreement that a nuclear-armed Iran would be likely to provide nuclear
weapons to terrorists (82 percent).50 Even if these trends do not hold for long,
second-term presidents such as Bush are less susceptible to the vagaries of
public opinion. The personality of the current president and his worldview well
suit such an approach.
The American perceptions of Iran reflect a global phenomenon. A major
BBC World Service poll exploring how people in thirty-three countries view
various countries found not a single country where a majority has a positive
view of Iran’s role in the world (with the exception of the Iranians themselves).51
Indeed, the United States is not alone in considering the use of force. British
Prime Minster Tony Blair warned that the West might have to take military
action against Iran after worldwide condemnation of Iranian President
Ahmadinejad’s call for Israel to be ‘wiped off the map’.52 France also seems to
realize that use of force may be necessary.53 Washington has been trying to gain
Ankara’s support for US policy toward Tehran’s nuclear program. By one
report, CIA Director Porter Goss visited Ankara in December 2005 and asked
Turkey to help the United States deal with the Iranian nuclear issue.54 As the
threat perception in Turkey increases, the country is more likely to cooperate.
If military action is to be taken, the timing of an attack must be sensitive to
collateral damage, particularly after the nuclear program has reached a stage
where nuclear radiation and contamination might occur. Moreover, it would be
preferable for the attacks to precede the consummation of the Russian sale of
thirty Tor-M1 air defense systems to Iran (to be delivered in the 2006 to 2008
period), as well as upgrades of the Mig and Sukhoi fighter jets used by Iran. This
$1 billion arms deal will bolster Iran’s capabilities to exact a higher price from
the adversary’s pre-emptive strike.55
However, in reality, military action may not prove necessary. An ultimatum
that includes an unequivocal American threat to use force might be enough to
convince the Iranians to freeze their nuclear program and wait for better times to
complete it. Such an ultimatum could be accompanied by force concentration
along the borders of Iran (in Afghanistan and in Iraq), naval maneuvers in the
Persian Gulf and Indian Ocean, and reconnaissance flights over Iranian air
space. The threat of military force should be preceded by intensive American
efforts to explain the danger of a nuclear Iran and active public diplomacy to
gain international approval for military action. Israel and Turkey can add to this
atmosphere by, for instance, conducting civil defense and military drills. Since
Iran practices brinkmanship as a regular part of its policy, only the threat of
imminent American military action will define the boundary that the Iranian
leadership does not want to cross.
This series of steps is exactly what most Arab states in the region expect.
None of them wants a nuclear Iran, as it threatens them and their interests. It is
worth remembering the support most Arab states lent to Baghdad during its long
war with Tehran (1980–88). Indeed, the danger to the Arab world is more immediate than it is for the United States or perhaps even Israel. Only the actual use
The need to block a nuclear Iran
221
of nuclear weapons by Iran would endanger Israeli or American forces, while
the mere possession of such weapons – and their use for leverage and
intimidation – could force Arab countries to submit to Tehran’s demands. Consequently, most Arab leaders – except for those in Syria – hope to see the hegemonic superpower take a resolute stand on the matter. Whatever public reaction
may surface in the region, in private the majority will savor such an American
demonstration of leadership and determination in obstructing the Iranian nuclear
program.
If the United States does not act in accordance with its international
responsibilities as a superpower, Israel will have to face the difficult choice of
how to respond. Since June 1981, Israel’s position has been that a military
nuclear program implemented by a hostile state constitutes a casus belli warranting pre-emptive action. With more to lose if Iran becomes nuclear, Israel would
have more incentive to strike than the United States.
Israel can undertake a limited pre-emptive strike.56 Israel certainly commands
the weaponry, the manpower and the guts to effectively take out key Iranian
nuclear facilities. Capable of carrying as much ordnance as a World War II
heavy bomber, the F-15I can also deploy precision-guided munitions and penetrate enemy air space at low levels and high speeds. Israel’s submarines can
launch cruise missiles at long distances, and its commandos have a very good
record of operating at great distances from home.
The air-strike route is of course problematic, as Israeli airplanes would have
to fly over Arab airspace. Although Israel and Turkey have a well-developed
strategic relationship, it is unlikely that an AKP-ruled Ankara would allow the
use of its airspace in an attack on Iran, but damaged Israeli aircraft or gunneddown Israeli air crews would have a chance of landing or surviving in Turkey or
in the Kurdish areas of Iraq.57 While it would be very difficult for Israel to carry
out a sustained air campaign, creative solutions could be devised to increase
Israeli projection of power at distances of over 1,000 km. Israel’s leaders are
likely to enjoy domestic support in the event that Israel decides to launch military strikes against Iranian nuclear facilities. Such support may erode, however,
if the military operations are unsuccessful and if the toll of casualties is
very high.
Any decision to use force must take into consideration the Iranian reaction to
a military strike and prepare for it. The Iranians can interfere with the flow of oil
from the Gulf, and launch a counter-attack with ballistic missiles (probably
using conventional warheads) against its neighbors and Israel. They can also
instigate Shi’a revolutions in the Gulf States and use proxy terrorist organizations to attack the United States and its allies, in particular Israel. The Gulf
States are likely to prefer facing any Iranian challenge before it goes nuclear.
Probably, the West can bear the limited cost likely to be exacted by Iran. The
cost issue is not really relevant for Israel, because it will suffer the wrath of Iran
even if the United States alone bombs the Iranian installations.
Conventional missile attacks on America’s allies are unlikely to cause much
damage, although they could partly paralyse their economic activities. The
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The twenty-first-century challenges
results would probably resemble those of the Iraqi missile attacks on Israel and
Saudi Arabia in 1991. Acts of terrorism could create greater damage, although
more intensive intelligence efforts and higher alerts of the internal security
forces could limit the effectiveness of such operations. In any case, military
strikes against Iran need to be accompanied by pre-emptive measures against
terrorist cells and Iranian personnel involved in supporting and activating terrorist activity.
Damaging oilfields and installations in the Gulf, as well as meddling with the
oil flow, is a major affront to the well-being of the international community and
would put Iran in conflict with most of the world. Interruptions in the export of
Iranian petroleum would also negatively affect the Iranian economy and subsequently the regime survivability. In any case, an Iranian decision to attack the oil
routes, before the state has acquired the bomb, might be deterred by a clear
American commitment to use its military power to assure the security of these
routes. However, even without such a commitment, America would act if confronted by Iranian attempts to block the Hormuz Straits. While revolutionary
Iran may become bold and adventurous with a nuclear arsenal at its disposal,
before acquiring such awesome weapons it is unlikely to estrange the whole
international community by causing serious damage to the supply of a critical
commodity such as oil. The determination of the West, displayed by the use of
force against Iran’s nuclear installations, might even have a paralyzing effect on
the regime. In any case, to counter a scenario where Iran brings about serious
supply shortages in oil supply, the US can exploit its Strategic Petroleum
Reserve, as well as the oil strategic reserves of its allies to allow for replacement
of the Iranian crude oil output in the world oil markets for some time.
Conclusion
A nuclear Iran poses a serious threat to the Middle East. Moreover, a nuclear
bomb in the hands of such an extremist regime may have widespread repercussions far beyond the region. Iran’s deeply rooted ideological hostility toward
Israel coupled with its emerging military capabilities places the Jewish state in a
particularly vulnerable spot. Diplomacy is doomed to fail and economic sanctions are usually ineffective, leaving only the threat to use force and the actual
use of force as viable options to delay the completion of the Iranian nuclear
program. Resolute action against Iranian nuclear installations involves many
risks, but inaction, it seems, will have far more serious repercussions.
If the United States refrains from action, Israel will face the difficult decision
of whether to act unilaterally. While less suited to do the job than the United
States, the Israeli military is capable of reaching the appropriate targets in Iran.
It remains to be seen whether Jerusalem will be forced to act in accordance with
its strategic doctrine. If, despite local and/or international efforts the Islamic
Republic of Iran succeeds in emerging with a nuclear arsenal, however, it will
not be the end of the current crisis, but rather the beginning of a new and far
more dangerous one.
15 Israel’s strategic mistakes in
the 2006 Lebanon War
Israel’s political and military leadership was ill-prepared for the war against
Hizballah in the summer of 2006. The policy adopted following the unilateral
withdrawal from Lebanon in May 2000 was characterized by low-profile containment, the hope being that Israel’s deterrence would suffice in order to
prevent an escalation. Former Defense Minister Benjamin Ben-Eliezer addressed
Israel’s reluctance to deal militarily with the Hizballah threat, explaining that the
launching of the Palestinian terrorist campaign against Israel in September 2000
had reinforced Israel’s Lebanese policy and its desire to refrain from opening up
a second front. Moreover, Israel feared that an encounter with Lebanon could
bring about an escalation with Syria. A secondary consideration was the economic blooming of the North and of its tourist industry. A war would bring a
halt to the development and return the North to its pre-2000 state, when the
region was subject to repeated Katyusha attacks.1 Yet, Israel’s deterrence failed
and various Hizballah provocations over the years, such as the abduction of
Israeli soldiers, Katyusha attacks on Israel’s northern settlements, and terrorist
attacks across the border, elicited only restrained responses on the part of Israel.2
This is not to suggest that Israeli officials did not take Hizballah seriously.
While, after the Lebanon withdrawal, Israeli officials considered the group to be
a nuisance, in recent years they acknowledged Hizballah to be a strategic threat.3
In July 2003, outgoing IDF Chief of Staff Lt. Gen. Shaul Mofaz, who subsequently became defense minister, cautioned of the growing Hizballah threat.4
His successor, Lt. Gen. Moshe Yaalon (July 2002 to June 2005), warned that
much of northern Israel was vulnerable to Hizballah’s missiles.5 Politicians and
former intelligence officers also said that they had warned the government.6
Still, many IDF leaders believed that minimal force if not diplomacy could minimize the threat. Chief of Northern Command Maj. Gen. Udi Adam, for example,
said, ‘There is nothing that can be solved just by the military . . . . There is a need
for a diplomatic solution’, adding, ‘I do not believe that anyone wants to go back
into Lebanon.’7
Restraint ended, however, on 12 July 2006, when the Hizballah attacked an
Israeli patrol along the border and abducted two soldiers, just nineteen days after
the abduction of an Israeli soldier along the Gaza border by Palestinian militants, creating a domestic political crisis. Israel’s Prime Minister Ehud Olmert
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The twenty-first-century challenges
and Defense Minister Amir Peretz, both rather new in their positions, decided to
react forcefully following a few telephone exchanges, which also included Chief
of Staff Lt. Gen. Dan Halutz.8
The decision of the Israeli political leadership to cease its low-profile containment policy and react forcefully seemed appropriate, chiefly for the purpose of
enhancing deterrence. Yet, aside from several accomplishments, primarily in the
air campaign, the Israel Defense Force (IDF) conducted a rather clumsy war,
displaying many deficiencies at strategic, operational, logistical and even tactical
levels. The war ended on 14 August 2006, in accordance with United Nations
Security Council (UNSC) Resolution 1701. This ending was something of a surprise, particularly since Israel’s leadership was cognizant of the fact the IDF
performance had implications beyond the south Lebanon arena; as Chief of Staff
Halutz said during the first days of the war, ‘The way we finish this will have
ramifications for the entire Middle East’, adding that the Syrians, the Palestinians and the Iranians were all watching.9
This chapter focuses on the strategic level of Israel’s conduct during the war.
Israel’s political and military leaders displayed strategic blindness on several
accounts, denying the IDF a victory in an important war, and squandered a key
opportunity to destroy the bulk of Hizballah’s military presence in southern
Lebanon, settle regional scores, enhance Israel’s deterrence and strengthen its
alliance with the US. The following sections present seven strategic errors
resulting from the lack of strategic clarity displayed by Israel’s highest political
and military echelons. The leadership operated in accordance with several strategic misconceptions. This faulty mode of operation was ultimately responsible
for Israel’s failure to deal effectively with a relatively small military organization such as Hizballah, a development that was widely perceived. The strategic mistakes fall into four categories: lack of preparations, unrealistic goals,
conduct of war and its ending. These are subsequently addressed.
Failure to prepare
Before the war, Israel had unrealistic expectations regarding the future of armed
conflict with Hizballah. The need for a large-scale conventional military campaign in southern Lebanon was obviously not foreseen. This evaluation conformed to the prevailing conventional wisdom that a large-scale conventional
war along Israel’s borders was highly unlikely and that Israel would in the near
future primarily wage small wars.
The biography of former Prime Minister Ariel Sharon (2001–06) might have
contributed to Israel’s reluctance to consider a large-scale campaign in southern
Lebanon. Sharon’s responsibility for the ill-fated 1982 Lebanon War and the
subsequent imbroglio was, for many, a stain in his political career. In 1983, the
Kahan Commission found Sharon negligent for his failure to predict and stop a
Lebanese militia’s massacre of Palestinian refugees at Sabra and Shatilla.10 His
subsequent attempts to rehabilitate his image during his premiership discouraged
further involvement in Lebanon. Sharon had long been an influential figure in
Israel’s mistakes in the 2006 Lebanon War
225
Israel, and his preferences probably influenced the thinking of the defense
establishment following his election as prime minister in 2001.
Inattention by the General Staff of the IDF reflected Israeli assumptions about
the unlikelihood of any land war on its borders. Maj. Gen. Udi Adam complained that the highest military forum hardly discussed the Lebanese front.11
Halutz did not even mention Hizballah in his strategic briefing to the Hertzliyah
conference in January 2006. Moreover, the IDF failed in its military buildup
before the war. Defense Minister Shaul Mofaz (November 2002 to March 2006)
decided to reduce the duration of military service for conscripts by four to eight
months, a decision that was to take effect in March 2007. He also initiated a new
law shortening reserve duty and reducing training time. According to Maj. Gen.
Benny Ganz, Chief of Israeli Ground Forces, allocations for training reserve
units have been cut by NIS 3.5 billion (USD 0.8 billion) since 2001.12
As a result of budgetary constraints, the IDF reduced the magnitude of tank
formations, while there was increasing pressure to dismantle the production
line of the Merkava tank, under the assumption that land warfare was unlikely.
Procurement priorities were also influenced by this evaluation. Weapons
systems such as TROPHY, providing tanks with protection from missiles, were
not installed and bunker buster bombs for the IAF were not purchased due to
budgetary constrictions.13 Both could have been very useful in the summer
of 2006.
Only a number of special forces received minimal training in the framework
of plans to fight in southern Lebanon. Furthermore, the heads of military intelligence refrained from transferring the data collected on the positions of the
Hizballah in southern Lebanon (the ‘nature reserves’) to the units in the field.14
Further underlying Israel’s lack of preparation was the failure of its leadership to acknowledge the operation against the Hizballah to be a war rather than a
retaliatory raid or more limited military reaction. The government never
declared a state of emergency, nor did it enact its wartime administrative and
legal powers. The military leadership was similarly slow to realize that it had a
war on its hands, leading inter alia to a delay in the mobilization of reserves.
The second serious error was the failure on the part of Israel’s leadership to
understand the strategic significance of the cumulative effect of numerous
Katyusha strikes. Rockets of this type have generally been viewed as weapons
of little consequence due to their immense inaccuracy and relatively small warheads. In the initial stage of the war, Halutz remarked that ‘short range rockets
are not a decisive weapon’.15 The leadership’s nonchalant attitude toward the
Qassam rockets fired continuously by the Hamas in Gaza reflected a similar
underestimation. Israel’s strategic culture has always displayed little concern for
civil defense and this remained true even after the Iraqi missile attacks of 1991.
In the summer of 2006, Israel’s population in the North was ill-prepared to
withstand a massive barrage of rockets. During the war, the IDF’s Home Front
Command, designed primarily to provide passive defense, was much criticized,
and after the war its very existence was questioned. Active defense was
similarly neglected. Israel’s failure to allocate sufficient funds toward the
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The twenty-first-century challenges
development of an adequate defense system, providing protection against the
type of threat posed by the Hizballah, was a strategic mistake. Israel’s military
industries mastered several technological responses to the threat posed by short
missiles, but the government refrained from turning them into operational
systems. Only after the war, in February 2007, did the Ministry of Defense
approve the development of defensive weapon systems against short and intermediate missiles.16
Indeed, protecting the home front was not part of the IDF’s initial strategic
planning for the 2006 War and was not even mentioned in the document on strategic goals submitted to the government at the beginning of the hostilities.17
Over the course of several years, Israel neglected to collect intelligence regarding the Hizballah’s short-range Katyushas, reflecting a similar lack of concern
and dooming any military response.18 Only in the last stages of the war did the
attempt to limit the Katyusha salvos turn into an operational goal, and senior
officers only pursued this goal half-heartedly. Chief of the Northern Command
Maj. Gen. Udi Adam was skeptical as to whether military measures could
succeed in stopping the rocket fire.19
Most of the short-range Katyushas indeed fell in empty fields and caused
little damage. But when 4,000 such rockets were launched, 25 percent of them
hitting urban areas, the whole of northern Israel, its main port, refineries and
many other strategic installations were paralyzed and in danger of destruction.20
Over one million Israelis lived in bomb shelters and about 300,000 left their
temporarily homes and sought refuge in the south.
Eventually, the Katyushas became the main criterion for defining victory in
the war. There was no need for great military expertise to discern that the IDF’s
inability to drastically lower the number of Katyusha launches in the last stages
of the war (approximately 200 per day) constituted an unequivocal failure.
Prime Minister Olmert was very wrong in stating on 3 August 2006 that the war
could not be measured by counting the number of missiles falling on Israel.21
The continuous barrage of Katyushas at Israel’s northern cities ultimately
granted Hizballah the claim to victory.
Strategic misconduct during the war
Over-reliance on airpower during the war was a third strategic error. While the
IDF has always invested heavily in airpower, until the 1990s it held that a decisive victory required a land maneuver. Yet, following the 1991 Gulf War, airpower became ‘an unusually seductive form of military strength’.22 It was
additionally tempting for Israel’s leaders to use Israel’s unmatched air force in
the region. The Israeli Air Force (IAF) offers spectacular destruction with
almost no Israeli casualties. Airpower was also associated with the emphasis on
new technologies that characterize the Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA), a
transformation in the nature of warfare.23 Maj. Gen. (res.) Eitan Ben-Eliyahu,
former Chief of the Air Force, admitted that the fixation with new technologies
and RMA was addictive and obscured clear thinking.24
Israel’s mistakes in the 2006 Lebanon War
227
The IAF convinced the political level that it could successfully expand its
military role beyond the traditional air missions and cope effectively with an
array of security challenges. In parallel, the IDF developed a doctrine for combating Low Intensity Conflict (LIC) threats with a combination of airpower and
special forces.25 Thus the IAF was increasingly involved in the small war fought
by the IDF against the Palestinians and the expansion of its role was generally
well received.
MK Yuval Steinitz, former Chair of the Parliamentary Committee on Security and Foreign Affairs, was one of the few in Israel who questioned the wisdom
of giving airpower such a high priority, on both a budgetary and a doctrinary
level.26 His doubts about the effectiveness of an exclusively airpower response
to the numerous Katyushas deployed by Hizballah remained a lone voice. While
the air force was efficient in destroying Hizballah’s long-range missiles and their
launchers, it was incapable of suppressing the short-range Katyushas south of
the Litani River.27 The fact that only ground forces were likely to deal effectively with this threat was not fully grasped by Israel’s military leadership.
Halutz, Chief of Staff during the 2006 War, was a pilot who had served as
commander of the IAF (April 2000 to July 2004). His enthusiasm for airpower
was unequivocal. In an interview in 2000, he stated that airpower was the
dominant component in the IDF’s menu of responses. He even specified that in
the event of an escalation along the Lebanese border, the air force would
become the main, if not the sole, military player in providing the appropriate
operational responses.28 In recent years we have seen a greater number of air
force officers taking positions in the IDF outside the ranks of the IAF, a positive
development due to the high quality of these individuals. The influx of air force
officers, however, has affected the general thinking in the IDF and created an
atmosphere that is favorably inclined toward the use of airpower.
During the 2006 War, Halutz was known to oppose a ground incursion into
Lebanon. Such a move, he said, would only be carried out as a last resort.29 The
IDF’s contingency plan for dealing with an escalation along the northern border
as a result of an abduction of its soldiers by Hizballah was air-centric, but
included the use of special forces inside Lebanon. Halutz preferred to implement
the air missions alone and not to risk even commando missions.30 When Olmert
and Peretz decided to send special ground forces into Lebanon on 19 July in an
effort to deal with the Katyusha threat, Halutz followed orders, but believed that
Israel had not fully capitalized upon the air strikes’ potential.31 He resisted a
large-scale land operation almost to the very end of the war.32 His hesitation,
combined with the reluctance of the political leadership to employ infantry battalions, enabled Hizballah to continue to fire Katyusha rockets into Israel for the
entire month.
Notwithstanding the above criticism, it is probably true that the air campaign
would have been considered a success if the war had been stopped after a few
days. Israel reacted forcefully and exacted a high price for Hizballah’s provocation
with little damage to itself. This course of action was in keeping with Maj. Gen.
(res.) David Ivry’s advice to the defense minister during the first days of the war.33
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The twenty-first-century challenges
However, the war continued unabated, ground forces were gradually involved, and
the Katyusha salvos persisted, resulting in an entirely different strategic outcome.
The reluctance to commit ground troops also stemmed from the exaggerated
fear of casualties – a fourth strategic misconception. Indeed, Maj. Gen. Elazar
Stern, Head of the IDF’s Manpower Branch, complained after the war that the
IDF had displayed ‘over-sensitivity’ to loss of life and disclosed the fact that one
of the battles during the war had been called off because of a few casualties.34
Similarly, Maj. Gen. (res.) Yoram Yair, who headed one of the inquiry committees established by the IDF after the war, criticized the IDF’s insufficient determination to complete military missions due to casualties, pointing out that the
advice to ‘fight cautiously’ was given too often.35
The reluctance to commit ground troops to battle betrays a terrible gap
between Israel’s leadership and its people. Israel’s political leaders mistakenly
believe that Israeli society is tired of the protracted conflict and unwilling to pay
the price of continuous war. Ehud Olmert, in his capacity as Vice Prime Minister, said in a well-known speech in June 2005: ‘We are tired of fighting, we are
tired of being courageous, we are tired of winning, we are tired of defeating
our enemies.’36 These remarks reflect a sense of weariness at a leadership
level. Decision-makers in the Oslo process, particularly Yitzhak Rabin, were
also motivated by such sentiments and by a similar misperception of Israeli
society.37 The government’s May 2000 decision to withdraw from Lebanon was
an additional manifestation of the same syndrome.
This misperception extended to the highest military echelons. At the beginning of 2004, the Chief of Staff at the time, Lt. Gen. Moshe Yaalon, asserted
that the weakest link in Israeli national defense has been the public’s lack of
stamina.38 Similarly, the Chief of the Northern Command, Maj. Gen. Benny
Ganz, admitted that while worrying about the missiles possessed by Hizballah,
he was more concerned about the ability of Israeli society to withstand the pressures of war.39
This mood, which has prevailed among Israel’s political leadership since the
1990s, affected the military leadership during the recent war against Hizballah,
and casualty aversion became a main feature of Israel’s military modus
operandi. Academics have argued that Israel, like other Western democracies,
has difficulties waging war because of casualty aversion. However, such an
assumption about the Western style of war, at times described as ‘post-heroic’
warfare, is not grounded in fact.40 Actually, many studies show that casualty
phobia is not a dominant characteristic of the US general public. On the contrary, the American political leadership can tap into a large reservoir of support
for military campaigns that entail a high human price, provided that those operations have a chance to succeed. The public is ‘defeat-phobic’, not ‘casualtyphobic’. Moreover, mounting casualties are bearable if the goals of the military
missions are seen as politically important.41
This is patently true of Israel as well. While the need to avoid reckless loss of
human life is self-evident, Israeli society has in fact shown great resilience
in war. Israeli society has repeatedly demonstrated high staying power even in
Israel’s mistakes in the 2006 Lebanon War
229
wars of attrition, particularly during the terror campaign initiated by the Palestinians in September 2000.42 In fact, in a recent poll, the Israeli public, sensing
its own strength, disagreed overwhelmingly with the statement ‘Palestinian
terror will break Israeli society’.43
In the summer of 2006, given the clear threat posed by Hizballah, there was
enthusiastic public backing for offensive operations, even when military casualties were inevitable. The Israeli home front exhibited determination and willingness to carry the brunt of the battle. A huge majority of Israelis lent full support
to the war. They wanted an unequivocal victory and were ready to pay a high
price for achieving it, including those who were living in bomb shelters. Even
parents who had lost children in the war backed the operation’s expansion.
Moreover, despite the widespread perception that the IDF had not done very
well in the war in Lebanon, there was no drop in the motivation of new recruits
to serve in combat units. Brig. Gen. Nissim Barda, Head of Planning in the
IDF’s human resources branch, said in November 2006: ‘There is no drop and if
anything there may even be a slight increase.’44 Actually, according to Barda,
recruits preferred to serve in the units that suffered casualties.
Strategically, Israel’s reluctance to commit troops to battle is counterproductive because it signals weakness. The widespread perception within the Arab
world that Israeli society is extremely sensitive to the loss of human life invites
aggression. It was largely this perception that motivated the Palestinians to start
a terror campaign against Israel in September 2000. This view is also the basis
of the ‘spider web’ theory concerning Israel, propagated by Hizballah’s leader
Hassan Nasrallah, namely that Israel’s emphasis on the value of human life as
well as its self-indulgent Western values render it weak and vulnerable.
The fear of military casualties and the subsequent hesitation on the part of
Israel’s leadership to conduct military operations also constitute a violation of
the basic social contract around which a state is built. In accordance with the
social contract, citizens give up some of their liberties and are prepared to be
taxed in exchange for the state’s commitment to provide them with security. The
state is a social institution whose raison d’être is to provide its members with
security by using its coercive apparatuses, such as the police and the military.
The Zionist rationale was founded in the desire to end the helplessness of the
Jew in the diaspora by building a Jewish state whose main function was to
defend its Jewish citizens – by force if necessary. Recently, we have seen an
incredible inversion of the Zionist and the statist rationale. There is greater tolerance for civilian casualties than for military losses. While foolproof defense is
not always a realistic goal, the Jewish state seems to be having difficulty in fulfilling its most basic function – providing its citizens with security.
Israel’s public efforts to calm Syria during the war were ill-advised as well
and constituted the fifth strategic error. Israel’s leaders stated repeatedly that
Israel had no intention of expanding its military activities to target Syria. For
example, Prime Minister Olmert said that Syria is outside the realm of military
operations.45 Defense Minister Peretz told both the press and the cabinet that
Israel had no intention of broadening the war to include Syria.46 Later, he even
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called to renew peace negotiations with Syria.47 Head of Operations in the
General Staff Maj. Gen. Gadi Eizenkott pointed out that Hizballah was ‘shooting
Syrian missiles at us’, but that attacking Syria was not under consideration.48
Instead of putting pressure on Damascus to stop its shipments of arms to
Hizballah – weapons that have caused great pain in Israel and allowed the
organization to resist the central Lebanese government – Israeli leaders went out
of their way to communicate to Syria that Damascus can continue bleeding
Israel by proxy with no fear of paying a price for its aggressive behavior. Israel
even spared the Syrians the need to guess the consequences of their policies.
Fear of escalation clouded the strategic judgment of Ehud Olmert’s government. Olmert rejected the advice offered by Mossad Chief Maj. Gen. (res.) Meir
Dagan on the first day of the war, to add Syrian targets to the list of targets prepared by the Israel Air Force.49 Olmert and his colleagues overlooked the fact
that in the past, escalation had been an effective tool in coercing Israel’s rivals to
accept its conditions. Israel’s leadership could have emulated that of Turkey in
October 1998, when Ankara’s forceful ultimatum and unequivocal determination to use massive force against Syria proved sufficient in order to coerce Hafiz
Assad to cease long-time Syrian support for the Kurdish terrorist organization,
the PKK.
The international constellation of 2006 rendered Syria susceptible once again
to military pressure. In addition to its support of Hizballah, Damascus continued
to house the headquarters of the Hamas and Islamic Jihad, despite past promises
to the US to close down their offices. Syria also disrupted American and French
attempts to restore Lebanon’s independence, particularly after Rafik Hariri’s
murder in February 2005. Washington was well aware that Bashar Assad’s
regime allowed the infiltration of insurgents into Iraq from its territory, and
President Bush also made it clear that he held Syria to blame for the crisis in the
summer of 2006. At the G8 meeting in Russia on 17 July 2006, an open microphone recorded him saying that what was needed was to influence ‘Syria to get
Hizballah to stop doing this shit’.50 Even French President Jacques Chirac concluded that there was no reason to enter into a dialogue with Syria and that his
country’s position was identical to that of the US.51 Significant anti-Hizballah
sentiments emerged in the Arab world as well and anger was expressed at
Hizballah and its allies, Syria and Iran, for destabilizing the region and plunging
it into a crisis.
By refraining from attacking Syrian targets, Israel missed a possible
opportunity to eliminate Syria’s long-range missile capability that threatens
most of Israel and could potentially cause considerable damage. Syria was militarily weak and unable to engage Israel in a conventional war. In addition, as it
demonstrated in Lebanon, Israel’s air force had the ability to paralyze longrange missiles (in contrast to short-range Katyusha rockets). The risks of
regional escalation were minimal. Iran was in no position to intervene directly.
Moreover, it had been trying to buy time to complete its nuclear project and was
unlikely to provide a pretext for speeding up the international processes geared
to bring a halt to its nuclear ambitions.
Israel’s mistakes in the 2006 Lebanon War
231
A successful campaign against Syria could have weakened Hizballah and
possibly strengthened the Lebanese government. It could have clearly signaled
Israel’s determination to deal with terrorist threats and with Iranian proxies,
enhancing Israeli deterrence. Such a campaign would have also diminished the
influence of Iran in the region. Furthermore, it would have diminished Iran’s
ability to retaliate in the event that its nuclear installations were attacked. No
less significantly, such a campaign could have served as a lesson to all radicals
who advocate terror against militarily superior powers. Indeed, the Palestinians,
who have been strongly influenced by Hizballah’s past successes, would have
calibrated their goals accordingly. Finally, the US would have been pleased to
see Damascus taking a beating.52
Unrealistic goals
The stated political goals of the military campaign in the summer of 2006 were
unrealistic, constituting the sixth strategic mistake. Israeli political and military
leaders erred in believing that Israeli pressure on Hizballah and the weak
Lebanese government could generate a political process whereby Hizballah
would be weakened and the Lebanese army would achieve a monopoly over the
use of force in Lebanon.53 From the earliest stages of the war, Israeli leaders
insisted that they could force Lebanon to become a regular state and act accordingly, and that Israel’s army would crush Hizballah’s Lebanese state-within-astate. Israel’s use of force was seen by Prime Minister Olmert as instrumental in
implementing UNSC Resolution 1559, which called for strengthening the
central government of Lebanon and disbanding the Lebanese and non-Lebanese
militias.54 Olmert stated that the military operation constituted ‘an almost unique
opportunity to change the rules in Lebanon’.55 Israeli Foreign Minister Tzipi
Livni declared that the goal of the Lebanon War was ‘to promote a process that
will bring about a long-term and fundamental change in the political reality’ and
to create a regime in Lebanon that would be responsible for its entire territory.56
She said that the harder the IDF hit Hizballah, the easier it would be later for the
Lebanese government and the world to implement UNSC Resolution 1559.57
Defence Minister Peretz concurred: ‘There is no intention of ending the campaign without the reality changing in Lebanon.’58
The IDF’s formulation of the campaign’s goals included ‘forcing the Lebanese
government . . . to realize its state responsibility, including security control of
southern Lebanon’.59 Indeed, from the very first day, Halutz suggested attacking
the Lebanese infrastructure so as to achieve Lebanese governmental pressure on
Hizballah.60 Brig. Gen. (res.) Yossi Kuperwasser, former Director of Research at
the IDF Intelligence Branch, believed that Israeli use of force had the potential to
bring about strategic change within Lebanon and that ‘the idea of transforming
Lebanon into a responsible state was significantly advanced [by the war]’.61 This
line of thinking was already present in the IDF during the tenure of the previous
Chief of Staff, Yaalon.62 It is also reminiscent of the pipe-dreams of the Israeli
invasion of 1982.
232
The twenty-first-century challenges
Quite incredibly, the Israeli elite actually believed that something could be
done to overcome the historical, social and religious rifts that divide Lebanese
society. Lebanon has been repeatedly dragged into political and military clashes
due to a deep and long-standing identity crisis.63 In 1982, Israel attempted to
restore Christian hegemony in Lebanon and to build a new political order there,
without success. By 2006, after almost four decades of experience with the
affairs of its northern neighbor, Israel should have realized that it cannot ‘fix’
Lebanon.
This, of course, is true of other attempts at political engineering in the Middle
East. All outside intervention intended to change the situation of the Palestinians
is similarly unlikely to succeed.64 Even the incomparably stronger US has
proven incapable of building a new Iraq. Its meager achievements in Iraq and
Afghanistan testify to the inhabitants’ resistance to changing old habits.
In the contemporary Middle East, use of force is mostly effective when
directed at disrupting military capabilities, not in creating a new political
environment.65 On the Palestinian front, the IDF wisely adopted a strategy of
denial rather than attempting to mold the Palestinian Authority into a friendly
political entity. Similarly, Israel should have adopted a more modest goal in its
use of force in the summer of 2006, focusing on neutralizing the rival’s ability to
harm Israel instead of changing the Lebanese reality. Indeed, Israel’s military
intervention in the summer of 2006 hardly changed the status quo in Lebanon.
During 2007, the domestic political crisis continues to dominate Lebanese
politics.
A similar unrealistic primary war aim was the release of the Israeli abducted
soldiers from Hizballah captivity. Prime Minister Olmert announced in his
speech to the Knesset (17 July 2006) that Israel would insist on the return of the
abducted soldiers before ending military operations – a pledge he repeated
several times.66 By the end of the war, it was clear that Israel was not able to
achieve even the transfer of the abducted soldiers to the Lebanese authorities.
Mistaken exit strategy
The seventh strategic error was Israel’s exit strategy from its war in Lebanon,
which focused on a UN resolution and the deployment of a strong peacekeeping
force in southern Lebanon. Israel’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs suggested
replacing the ineffective United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL),
deployed there since 1978, with another international force, albeit one ‘more
robust’ and better equipped.67 Livni said that preventing Syria’s transfer of arms
to Hizballah,68 the total disarmament of the group, and a complete overhaul of
the UN forces in southern Lebanon were among Israel’s requirements for a
cease-fire. Livni made these demands in a meeting with a visiting UN delegation. While not ruling out the idea of an international presence in southern
Lebanon to help the Lebanese army gain control of the area, Livni made it clear
that Israel did not see the current UNIFIL as the vehicle for such a force. Israel’s
‘past experience with UNIFIL was not satisfactory’, she said at a press
Israel’s mistakes in the 2006 Lebanon War
233
conference after meeting with the delegation. Livni expressed her preference
that the Lebanese army move its forces southward and exert its authority over
the whole country. However, she said that for a limited time there may be a need
to strengthen the Lebanese army with a UN force.69 According to Livni, the UN
contingent was expected to have significant coercive military capability,
enabling it ‘to control the passages on the Lebanese–Syrian border, to aid the
Lebanese Army in deploying properly, and to fully implement UNSC Resolution 1559, particularly in disarming the Hizballah’.70 Livni also saw the UN military involvement as facilitating the enforcement of Lebanese sovereignty
through the implementation of UNSC Resolution 1559. She welcomed UNSC
Resolution 1701 that allowed for an even stronger force to be deployed if
necessary.
Olmert initially preferred the Lebanese army to deploy its forces in southern
Lebanon. In a meeting with Israeli diplomats on 18 July, he said that the idea of
an international force was ‘a good headline’, but that Israel’s experience ‘shows
that there is nothing behind it’. Yet, soon after learning about the weakness of
the Lebanese army, he agreed to a UN force. The same line of thinking was
shared by the military; for example, Brig. Gen. (res.) Kuperwasser claimed that
a UN-imposed arms embargo could be effective.71
This dangerously naive new faith in the UN, an ineffective institution, was
also reflected in Jerusalem’s involvement in drafting the UN resolution. It was
actually the first time in the history of the wars waged by Israel that Jerusalem
had waited for the UN to call for a cease-fire in order to end a war. Moreover,
the hope that such an international contingent could assure the demilitarization
of southern Lebanon and the enforcement of an arms embargo against Hizballah
in accordance with UNSC Resolution 1701 was totally unfounded.
It is already clear that even the European troops participating in the ‘new’
expanded UNIFIL had no intention of using their weapons to implement the UN
Resolution. The UN mandate determines that in the event that UNIFIL personnel come across caches of weapons or gunmen, they are to call upon the
Lebanese army to deal with the situation. Indeed, then UN secretary-general
Kofi Annan advocated ‘flexibility’ in the deployment of UNIFIL along the
Syria–Lebanon border, meaning that UNIFIL would not bother Hizballah too
much.72
As expected, Syria has continued to funnel arms to the Shi’a Hizballah militia
in defiance of international demands, thus undermining hopes for peace and
stability in Lebanon. Walid Jumblatt, a long-time leader of the minority Druze
community, said in Washington: ‘As long as the Syria–Lebanon border is not
being monitored effectively, the flow of weapons will continue and there will be
instability.’73 John R. Bolton, US ambassador to the United Nations, said at a
Security Council meeting that Syria and Iran – Hizballah’s two main sponsors –
were ‘actively trying to destabilize the democratically elected government of
Lebanon’ by rearming Hizballah.74
Israel has similarly complained several times that both the Lebanese government and the beefed-up UN peacekeeping force now installed in southern
234
The twenty-first-century challenges
Lebanon have failed to carry out key parts of the accord that ended the fighting
in the summer of 2006, including disarming Hizballah and enforcing an arms
embargo. According to Israeli military sources, by November 2006, Hizballah
had replenished nearly half of its pre-war stockpiles of short-range missiles and
small arms.75 In December 2006, Mossad Chief Meir Dagan told the Knesset’s
Foreign Affairs and Defense Committee that Syria is arming Hizballah at a rapid
rate and is working to overthrow the Lebanese government and destabilize the
American presence in the region.76 Thus the UNIFIL force deployed in southern
Lebanon has had no impact on Hizballah’s rearmament or on Lebanese domestic
politics.
Notably, the presence of the renewed multinational UNIFIL force in Lebanon
has been a source of tension between Israel and some of the participating European states. The French government denounced Israeli flights over Lebanon to
monitor what Israeli defense officials said were continuing violations of the
arms embargo by Hizballah. On 19 October 2006, the French commander of
UNIFIL even threatened to shoot at Israeli planes if they came too close to his
troops.77 A few days later, the Germans complained that Israeli planes had taken
aim at one of their ships78 – an incident that generated quick efforts by both
states to limit its potential repercussions. This phenomenon is a replay of past
events that poisoned Israeli–Scandinavian relations, among others. Israel’s
experience with UN forces and observers along its borders has generally been
disappointing. Therefore, Israel’s eagerness to have a UN presence on its northern border is strange at best.
The presence of an international force will primarily interfere with Israel’s
freedom of action against Hizballah, especially as the organization continues to
rebuild its military capabilities in southern Lebanon. Worse still is the fact that
this unjustifiable Israeli diplomatic naivety may yet lead to the introduction of an
international force in the West Bank and/or Gaza, a move that would be
extremely detrimental to Israel’s interests.79
Conclusion
When the war broke out in the summer of 2006, Israel enjoyed overwhelming
military superiority and favorable political conditions. However, a series of strategic follies and operational deficiencies resulted in a faltering, indecisive war.
Israel could have administered a serious blow to Hizballah from the air during
the first few days of the war, or alternatively, destroyed most of Hizballah’s military presence in southern Lebanon by means of a creative, large-scale land invasion. Unfortunately, Israel’s political and military leadership had no clear
concept of what victory over Hizballah entailed. Israel squandered an important
opportunity to settle regional scores. Iran’s apparent efforts to expand the Shi’a
influence in Lebanon by strengthening Hizballah were left unchecked. Similarly,
Syria’s potential for mischief in Lebanon and Iraq remained untouched. Damascus, an Iranian ally, issued military threats against Israel, statements the likes of
which had not been heard for several years. The Palestinians also watched
Israel’s mistakes in the 2006 Lebanon War
235
Hizballah and gained hope that they too could withstand Israel’s superior military power. Radicals in the Middle East were generally emboldened. The war in
Lebanon was also a missed opportunity to gain points with the US and to
strengthen Israel’s image as a powerful and useful ally in the Middle East. All of
the above developments did not augur well for Israel’s deterrence.
Israel lives in a tough neighborhood in which military might is the final guarantee for survival. Hopefully, Israeli leadership will be better prepared with
appropriate military and diplomatic strategies for attaining a clearly defined
victory in the next round. A government-appointed inquiry committee is studying the war and is expected to present its final findings in the summer of 2007.
Chief of Staff Halutz has initiated an intensive and comprehensive inquiry
process and resigned. In the past, the IDF has proved its capacity to learn from
its mistakes and improve. Some deficiencies can be easily corrected. Increases in
the defense budget could provide the means to implement some of the lessons
learned; for example, longer training for reserve units and procurement of better
weapons systems. Some of the war lessons may take longer to digest and their
application is less certain. This is particularly pertinent with regard to the quality
of strategic thinking, which first appeared in the 1990s.80 Increased apprehensions about the economic cost and the use of building a strong military force, as
well as a proclivity to greater trust in and cooperation with other international
actors, have spread among Israel’s political leadership and its defense and
foreign affairs establishment. Postmodern notions have also blurred the strategic
clarity of many high-level officials. Getting rid of such misconceptions, which
are congruent with the prevalent mood in many Western states, is not an easy
task. Despite the sobering experiences since September 2000, the wishful thinking that motivated the Oslo process is not yet dead in Israel. The failures in the
2006 war against Hizballah may contribute to a further awakening from recent
illusions. Even the best military machine cannot guarantee good results if
improperly employed.
Despite the strategic misconduct, the war demonstrated that Israel is a strong
state. It has the spirit to fight and its soldiers won each encounter with
Hizballah. The home front displayed great resilience, while its economy continued
to boom. Hopefully, Israel’s leadership will be better prepared with appropriate
military and diplomatic strategies for attaining a clearly defined victory in the next
round.
Notes
1 Israeli strategic thinking after 1973
1 H. Sicherman, ‘The United States and Israel: A Strategic Divide?’, Orbis, summer
1980, vol. 24, 381–94.
2 B. Lewis, ‘Settling the Arab–Israeli Conflict’, Commentary, June 1977, vol. 63, 53.
3 This paper does not deal with the government headed by Golda Meir in the period
until June 1974, since her government had little impact on Israeli thinking thereafter.
4 See I. Navon, ‘The Changes in the Israeli Position Toward the Arab–Israeli Conflict’
in A. Hareven and Y. Padan (eds) Between War and Settlements (Hebrew), Tel Aviv:
Zamora Bitan, Modan, 1977, p. 158. Navon, served in the 1974 to 1977 period as
chairman of the Parliamentary Committee for Security and Foreign Affairs.
5 For Israel’s military doctrine before 1967 see Michael Handel, Israel’s Political–Military Doctrine, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Occasional Papers Series,
1974. It has never been maintained that a preventive or pre-emptive strike was to be
the automatic Israeli response to a major Arab military threat. The international situation has always been one of the most important considerations. Ben-Gurion waited
until October 1956 for favorable political conditions before launching the preventive
attack. In 1967, Eshkol and Rabin waited three weeks, until a positive political
climate emerged, before giving the order to strike. In 1973, Golda Meir decided
against a pre-emptive air strike and here, too, the reason was of a political nature: the
fear of probable American displeasure at such a step.
6 Maj. Gen. I. Tal, ‘Israel’s Defence Doctrine: Background and Dynamics’, Maarachot, December 1976, vol. 253, 6. Tal served in the October War as deputy Chief of
Staff.
7 It was Clausewitz’s conviction that defense was the ‘stronger form’ of war. See C. V.
Clausewitz, On War, edited and translated by M. Howard and P. Paret, Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press, 1976, pp. 357–66. Henry Kissinger has also has observed,
‘Conventional warfare favors the defense. It has been truly remarked that but for the
development of nuclear weapons, the defense would long since have achieved ascendancy over the offense. Even in World War Two the attacker generally required a superiority of three to one’, ‘Limited War: Conventional or Nuclear’, Daedalus, vol. 90, fall
1960, 809. For a historical outline of favorable ratios of defense, see B. H. Lidell Hart,
Deterrent or Defence, London: Stevens & Sons, 1960, pp. 97–110.
8 N. Safran, Israel: The Embattled Ally, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press,
1978, p. 315; S. Rosen and M. Indyk, ‘The Temptation to Pre-empt in a Fifth
Arab–Israeli War’, Orbis, summer 1976, vol. 20, 265–86; W. Tuohy, ‘Israeli Military
Seem Stronger Than Ever’, Los Angeles Times, 9 February 1976.
9 ‘Interview with Gur’, Bamahane, 26 June 1974. See reports of his declaration in
Maariv and Haaretz of the same day.
Notes
237
10 Y. Allon, ‘Israel: The Case for Defensible Borders’, Foreign Affairs, October 1976,
vol. 55, 44. Secure borders were those borders which allow the defender not to recur
to a pre-emptive strike. See D. Horowitz, Israel’s Concept of Defensible Borders,
Jerusalem Papers on Peace Problems, no. 16, 1975.
11 Interview in Die Presse (Wien), 6 February 1975, p. 3. This section received publicity
in Israel. See Maariv. Jerusalem Post and Al Hamishmar of the same date.
12 Author’s interview with Allon, 4 June 1979.
13 S. Peres, Tomorrow is Now, Jerusalem: Mabat, 1978, p. 236.
14 Rabin and Sadat NBC Interview, 5 April 1975; see also D. Goldstein, ‘Interview of
the Week with Rabin’, Maariv, 18 April 1975.
15 Y. Charif, Maariv, 2 September 1974.
16 M. Kalb and B. Kalb, Kissinger, Boston, MA: Little Brown, 1974, p. 460.
17 Rabin related Israel’s success in holding on to the territories conquered in 1967 to the
Israeli waiting period, which enabled the futile attempts of the US to rectify the situation by diplomatic means. This justified Israel’s subsequent military action; see
Y. Rabin, ‘The Six Day War – Characteristics and Achievements’, Maarachot, June
1977, vol. 256, 4. On the other hand, during the attrition war in 1969 to 1970, Rabin
was one of the most vocal proponents of escalation against Egypt, because he perceived this to be the American desire. See Rabin, Memoirs, Tel Aviv: Maariv Book
Guild, 1979, pp. 273–91.
18 Inter alia, see his interview to Newsweek, 18 December 1974, when in response to a
question concerning an Israel pre-emptive strike, he said, ‘Based on my talks with
Israeli leaders, I do not believe that any responsible Israeli leader operates on this
assumption. They know that if a war starts it may start events of incalculable consequences . . . I do not believe that any Israeli leader would deliberately engage in such
a reckless course’ (p. 8). This excerpt was included in the Selected Documents, No. 4,
The Department of State, ‘US Policy in the Middle East: November 1974–February
1976’, Washington, DC: GPO, 1976. Its conclusion in this publication indicates its
importance to the Americans.
19 ‘Interview with Gur’, Bamahane, Edition for Reservists Abroad, no. 2, September–
December 1976.
20 D. Goldstein, ‘An Interview with Rafael Eitan’, Maariv, 16 April 1976.
21 Lt. Gen. Elazar, the IDF Chief of Staff during the October War, emphatically said, ‘In
the October War, it was proved once more that the defense is the stronger form of
combat: inferior forces, well deployed in defensive positions, are able to stop the
advance of superior forces’. D. Elazar, ‘The Yom Kippur: Military Lessons’ in L.
Williams (ed.) Military Aspects of the Israeli–Arab Conflict, Tel Aviv: University
Publishing Projects, 1975, p. 249.
22 Tal, ‘Israel’s Defense Doctrine’, 3. For the patterns of superpower intervention in the
Middle East see Y. Evron, ‘Great Powers’ Military Intervention in the Middle East’
in M. Leitenberg and G. Sheffer (eds) Great Power Intervention in the Middle East,
New York: Pergamon Press, 1979, pp. 17–45.
23 Peres, Tomorrow is Now, pp. 249–50.
24 Gur’s presentation in Williams Military Aspects, p. 199. For an advocacy of an
‘offensive defense’, that is, a strategy combining defensive and offensive options, see
S. Amiel, ‘Deterrence by Conventional Forces’, Survival, March–April 1978, vol. 20,
58–65.
25 D. Goldstein, ‘Interview with Rabin’, Maariv, 25 September 1974. Peres also talked
about the emphasis on a fast, decisive victory, Haaretz, 29 September 1974.
26 Peres’ opening address in Williams, Military Aspects, pp. 10–11; his Tomorrow is
Now, pp. 249–50.
27 Interview with Goldstein op. cit., emphasis added.
28 Gur’s remarks in favor of a pre-emptive strike were also a reply to Dayan’s lecture to
an officers’ convention in April 1974. Dayan had claimed that the period of pre-
238
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
Notes
emptive strikes was over. Gur believed such talk could destroy the morale of the IDF.
Interview with Gur, 29 June 1979.
D. Horowitz, ‘The Israeli Concept of National Security and the Prospects of Peace in
the Middle East’ in G. Sheffer, (ed.) Dynamics of a Conflict, Atlantic Highlands, NJ:
Humanities Press, 1975, p. 261.
Horowitz, ‘Concept of National Security’, p. 262. See also K. Subrahmanyam, ‘The
Lessons of the 1973 Arab–Israeli War’, The Institute or Defence Studies and Analysis
Journal, January 1974, vol. 6, 416–42.
The Rabin government rejected, however, the suggestion to station UN forces on its
Lebanese border as well. Israel did not fear a Lebanese attack and preferred not to
curtail its freedom of action in that region.
J. Churba, The Politics of Defeat, New York: Cyreo Press, 1977, p. 127. See also
Horowitz, ‘Concept of National Security’, pp. 259–60.
Rabin, Memoirs, p. 488.
See A. M. Cordesman, ‘How Much is Too Much?’, Armed Forces Journal, October
1977, 36–7. The analysis is unfriendly to Israel, but the figures for the Israeli planned
buildup seem to be accurate. Interestingly, Peres quoted Cordesman’s figures in his
book Tomorrow is Now.
D. Vital, The Inequality of States, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967, pp. 60–1.
Gur said in a radio interview, ‘One of the main lessons learned after the war was that
it is necessary to increase the quantitative aspect of the IDF. Masses have great
importance, as the war has shown’, Maariv, 27 October 1974. For an analysis of
quality versus quantity, see M. Handel, ‘Numbers Do Count: The Question of Quality
Versus Quantity’, The Journal of Strategic Studies, September 1981, vol. 4, 225–60.
In the October War, Israel did not have enough troops to launch simultaneous
counter-offensives on the Golan and in Sinai. For an analysis of Israel’s dilemma
then, see C. Bartov, Dado – 48 Years and 20 Days, Tel Aviv: Maariv Book Guild,
1978, Part II.
Peres, Tomorrow is Now, p. 54.
Rabin, Memoirs, p. 505.
For an outline of the defensive requirements and capabilities of the new technologies,
see S. Amiel, ‘Defensive Technologies for Small States’ in Williams, Military Aspects,
pp. 18–20. For an analysis of the defensive implications see, inter alia, J. Digby, Precision Guided Weapons, Adelphi Paper no. 118, London: 11SS, summer 1975;
A. Wohlestetter, ‘Threat and Promises of Peace: Europe and America in the New
Era’, Orbis, winter 1974, vol.17, 1107–44; J. Mearsheimer, ‘Precision-guided Munitions and Conventional Deterrence’, Survival, March–April 1979, vol. 21, 68–76.
See also Gur’s response to a question on the impact of the new technologies in
Williams, Military Aspects, pp. 202–3; Amiel, op. cit. Amiel served as the director of
long-range planning at the Israeli Ministry of Defense.
Gur, ‘The IDF: Continuity and Renewal’, p. 6.
Peres, Tomorrow is Now, p. 55. The other two efforts were directed toward increasing
and upgrading the manpower available to the IDF, and toward supplying the IDF with
appropriate weapons. For the fortifications plans see Z. Schiff, ‘The Defense and the
Fortification System’, Haaretz, 30 October 1974.
Gur said, ‘Among the outstanding changes following the Yom Kippur War is strengthening the partnership of the territorial defense in the overall war waging system’, M.
Gur, ‘IDF – Continuity and Renewal’, Maarachot, March–April 1978, vol. 261/262, 6.
For an early exposition of the rationale for the spatial defense see Y. Allon, Curtain of
Sand (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuhad, 1968, pp. 65–8. For a contemporary
reformulation of the doctrine see D. Noy, ‘Territorial Defense and National Security’,
Mibnifim, December 1977, vol. 39, 243–55. For the organizational structure and
command line of the spatial defense see Z. Schiff and E. Haber, Israel, Army and
Defense: A Dictionary, Tel Aviv: Zmora, Bitan, Modan, 1976, 158.
Notes
239
45 Newsweek, 24 May 1976.
46 Author’s interview with M. Netzer, Coordinator of Settlement and Civil Defense,
Ministry of Defense, 29 August 1979.
47 Ariel Sharon’s Address to the International Symposium on Strategic Problems at Tel
Aviv University, ‘Israel’s Strategic Problems in the 1980s’, 14 December 1981. It is
referred to as ‘Address’. Israeli strategic thinking has never been given a formal institutionalized formulation. Therefore, the notion of ‘doctrine’ is not suitable to describe
the Israeli concepts of national security.
48 Address, p. 8 (emphasis added).
49 Ibid., p. 1.
50 See M. Begin’s autobiographies, White Nights. The Story of A Prisoner in Russia,
London: Macdonald, 1957; The Revolt, New York: Dell Publishing, 1978.
51 Address, p. 6.
52 For an exposition of the ‘periphery doctrine’, see A. Eban, ‘Reality and Vision in the
Middle East’, Foreign Affairs, July 1965, vol. 43, 632, 4–5.
53 Israel has tried to emphasize its importance as a strategic asset to the West, particularly since 1973. The US agreed to sign a Memorandum of Understanding on Strategic Cooperation in December 1981 in order to compensate Israel for the American
sale of AWACs and F-15s to Saudi Arabia. The Americans consistently lowered the
public profile of the Memorandum and diluted the Israeli–American cooperation it
had outlined. The US was uncomfortable with the Memorandum because if preferred
not to attract more attention to its ties with Israel. Indeed, at the first opportunity, the
US retreated from the vague obligations contained in the Memorandum. Following
the Israeli decision to extend Israeli law to the Golan in December 1981, the US suspended the implementation of the Memorandum.
54 Address, p. 6.
55 K. J. Holsti, International Politics, 2nd edn, London: Prentice Hall International,
1974, pp. 313–14. Fluctuations in the motivation of the challenger of the status quo
are also an important factor. Lower motivation obviously requires less deterrence.
56 For this category of states see Y. Dror, Crazy States, Lexington: D. C. Health, 1973.
57 Between April 1974 and May 1977 only 27.6 percent of the attacks against targets in
Lebanon were air strikes, while during the June 1977 to May 1982 period air strikes
consisted of 57.1 percent of the Israeli activity there. The raw data were supplied
by the IDF spokesman. The March 1978 Litani operation was excluded from the
compilation.
58 Rabin’s government refused to get involved in the Lebanese morass beyond supplying and training the Christian militias, and insisting upon a Syrian free zone in southern Lebanon. In contrast, in June 1982 the Israeli goals were to expel the PLO and
Syrian forces from Lebanon and to create a new ‘stable order’ there.
59 Maariv, 18 February 1982; 23 May 1982. Lt. Gen. Eitan was more specific as to
Israel’s weapon procurement plan in an interview to Israeli television on the eve of
Israel’s Independence Day, 27 April 1982. No additional units are planned, but the
current units will complete their procurement programs. Only the air force will
slightly increase its order of battle. Following those weapons acquisitions, new
weapons will be purchased only for substituting older weapon systems to be phased
out of service. Sources in the Finance Ministry confirmed this trend.
60 Address, p. 8.
61 Maariv, 30 March 1982.
62 D. Horowitz, Defensible Borders. p. 9.
63 Maariv, 28 June 1974.
64 Rabin, Memoirs, p. 503.
65 Ibid.
66 S. Dinitz to Time, 18 May 1981, 2. Dinitz served as Israel’s ambassador in Washington, from 1973 to 1979.
240
Notes
67 Maariv, 18 November 1976.
68 Sharon had already insisted in 1975 that any Arab installation preparing a nuclear
bomb would have to be wiped out, New York Times, 8 February 1975.
69 Since 1975, Israel has officially favored a NWFZ reached after negotiations among
the Middle Eastern nations. See ‘The Official Israeli Position’, New Outlook, May
1982, 68–72.
70 See A. Perlmutter, ‘The Israeli Raid on Iraq: A New Proliferation Landscape’, Strategic Review, winter 1982.
71 Egypt ratified the NPT in January 1981. This opened the way for Western nuclear
cooperation with Egypt. See Approving the Proposed Agreement for Nuclear Cooperation With Egypt: Report September 1981, House Committee on Foreign Affairs,
Washington, DC: US GPO, 1981.
72 In contrast to other countries, the consensus in national security matters in Israel is broad.
It relates to the source of threat and to the means to deal with it. The national consensus
is based on the perception of the existence of an Arab politicide drive. There is practically no problem in drafting Israelis into the regular army and the reserves. Further, there
is legitimacy for the use of various degrees of force in the absence of peace.
73 It was explained that the June 1982 invasion of Lebanon prevented a planned PLO
destruction campaign in the Galilee and delayed or even prevented a general war the
Syrians were preparing for. See the report of Sharon’s speech to the Staff and
Command College, Maariv, 7 July 1982; and Y. Erez, ‘Interview with Amir Drori –
the Commander of the Northern Command’, Maariv, 30 July 1982.
74 Address, p. 6.
75 Ibid., p. 7.
76 For Sharon’s position, see Address, p. 7. For Eitan’s position, see Z. Schiff, ‘A
Revolution in Territorial Defense’, Haaretz, 14 April 1976.
2 The American arms transfer to Israel
1 For changes in the arms market see R. E. Harkavi, The Arms Trade and International
Systems, Cambridge: Ballinger, 1975.
2 For the exact breakdown of American aid to Israel (1967–78) into economic and military aid, as well as the amounts of loans and grants, see P. Rivlin, ‘The Burden of
Israel’s Defense’, Survival, July–August 1978, vol. 20, table 4, 128.
3 D. Goldstein, ‘Interview of the Week with Shimon Peres’, Maariv, 12 July 1974.
4 I. Rabin, Memoirs (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Maariv Book Guild, 1979, p. 476.
5 Ibid., p. 498.
6 B. Gwertzman, ‘US Decides to Sell Some Arms to Israel that It Blocked in the Past’,
New York Times, 12 October 1976, 12. The deal included laser-guided bombs,
missile-armed helicopters, night-fighting equipment, stepped-up delivery of M-60s,
TV-guided bombs and ATWs.
7 For an account of the political process leading to the peace treaty see M. Dayan,
Breakthrough, London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1981; E. Haber, Z. Schiff and E.
Yaari, The Year Of The Dove, New York: Bantam Books, 1979.
8 Rabin, out of office, commented on the coming Begin–Carter meeting: ‘I do not
suppose that a prime minister of Israel can talk to the President of the USA without
dealing with the basic Israeli requests for the needed arms. Yet, I do not believe that
this topic should be central in the Begin–Carter talks’. D. Goldstein, ‘Interview of the
Week with MK Itzhak Rabin’, Maariv, 15 July 1977.
9 Interview with Maj. Gen. A. Adan, Military Attaché in Washington (1974–77).
10 Haaretz, 28 January 1975. Examples of such firms are Raytheon and Northrop.
11 S. Peres, Tomorrow Is Now (Hebrew), Jerusalem: Mabat, 1978, p. 56. The Matmon B
Weapons Procurement Plan was presented by Peres in June 1974 and in October
1975 he submitted a revised list of Israeli requirements.
Notes
241
12 Rabin, Memoirs, p. 476; E. Sheehan, The Arabs, Israelis and Kissinger, New York:
Reader’s Digest Press, 1976, p. 21. Kissinger similarly hoped that a well-supplied
Thieu would be more flexible about a cease-fire in Vietnam. M. Kalb and B. Kalb,
Kissinger, Boston, MA: Little Brown & Company, 1974, p. 389.
13 A. H. Cordesman, ‘How Much Is Too Much?’, Armed Forces Journal, October 1977,
36–7. The analysis is not friendly to Israel, but the figures for the Israeli-planned
buildup seem to be accurate. Interestingly, Peres quoted Cordesman’s figures in his
book, Tomorrow Is Now.
14 Interview with Gur. American sources evaluate that the Israelis prepared stocks for
thirty days of fighting. Cordesman, ‘How Much Is Too Much?’, 37.
15 The discussion in this section is largely based upon interviews with Rabin, Peres,
Adan and Asher Ben Natan, political advisor to the Minister of Defense (1975–77).
16 See inter alia C. A. Robinson, ‘Israel Arms Export Spur Concern’, Aviation Week
and Space Technology, 13 December 1976, 14–17.
17 Interview with Adan. The acceptable Israeli ratio was 3 to 1.
18 Cordesman, ‘How Much Is Too Much?’, 35.
19 Interview with Peres.
20 Interview with Adan.
21 Rabin, Memoirs, pp. 498–9. In contrast, there were Israelis who simply attempted to
extract as much as possible from the US disregarding the ‘credibility’ issue. For
example, Asher Ben Natan remarked, ‘There is no shame in receiving a negative
American reply’. (Interview with Ben Natan.)
22 Rabin, Memoirs, p. 498.
23 D. Goldstein, ‘Interview of the Week with MK Yitzhak Rabin’, Maariv, 15 July
1977.
24 Interview with Adan.
25 D. Vital, The Inequality of States, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967, ch. 4; R. L. Rothstein, Alliances and Small Powers, New York: Columbia University Press, 1968,
p. 20.
26 See the report of Rabin’s speech to the Knesset. Maariv, 11 March 1976.
27 Interview with Peres.
28 Interview with Adan.
29 Interview with Ben Natan. For example, Israel had already requested the Lance
surface-to-surface missile in 1970, two years before its deployment in Europe.
Z. Schiff, ‘The Lance’, Haaretz, 26 January 1976. The US agreed to provide the
missile in November 1974 (Aviation Week and Space Technology, 18 November
1974, 17). It was finally supplied in winter 1976. The Pershing requested in 1974 was
not yet in production. This confirms a certain Israeli pattern of making early demands
for advanced weapons.
30 See ‘Staunch Friends at Arms Length’, Time, 31 January 1977. Part of the article was
based upon an interview with Peres. See also S. Segev, ‘The Israeli Technological
Return for American Aid’, Maariv, 17 December 1976.
31 For Rabin’s apprehensions of an imminent war see Haaretz, 8 August 1974; Maariv,
24 April 1975; Haaretz, 5 September 1975 (a few days following the signing of the
Sinai 2 agreement!); Maariv, 26 February 1976. Peres also believed that the danger of
war was close (Haaretz, 28 July 1974). Even following Sadat’s visit to Jerusalem,
Peres continued to fear an imminent war (Peres, Tomorrow Is Now, p. 226). Gur
shared this distrust. On the eve of Sadat’s arrival in Jerusalem, he even publicly
demanded that Israel prepare for an Egyptian attack.
32 Interview with Simcha Dinitz, ambassador to the US (1973–79).
33 Rabin, Memoirs, pp. 438–40.
34 Ibid., p. 494.
35 Ibid., p. 519.
36 Interview with Peres.
242
Notes
37 Rabin, Memoirs, pp. 494–5.
38 Ibid., p. 504. Rabin suspected that this controversial Israeli demand was motivated by
the desire to torpedo the deal and to allow the Israel Aircraft Industry to develop its
own airplane – the Arieh (ibid., p. 505).
39 Ibid., p. 505.
40 For the official history of the Israeli defense complex see Y. Evron, The Israel
Defense Industry, Tel Aviv: Publishing House, Ministry of Defense, 1980.
41 D. Kochav, ‘The Economics of Defense’ in Louis Williams (ed.) Military Aspects of
the Israeli–Arab Conflict, Tel Aviv: University Publishing Projects, 1975, pp. 182–3.
42 Israel also produced C2 systems, ECM and a variety of PGM. Peres, Tomorrow Is Now, p.
59. For a review of some of the products the Israeli defense industry had for sale, see
‘Special Israel Advertising Section’, Aviation Week and Space Technology, 14 June 1976.
43 Peres, Tomorrow Is Now, p. 58; See also A. Lorever, ‘To Develop Modern Weapon
Systems or to Purchase Them?’, Maarachot, November 1978, no. 266, 48–9.
44 The critics were in the military and in the Finance Ministry.
45 Interview with Rabin.
46 Interview with Maj. Gen. Israel Tal. He was the one in charge of the development of
the Merkava and was involved in local production projects.
47 International Defense Review, 10 February 1977, 160.
48 Interview with Ben Natan.
49 Y. Elitzur, ‘The Arieh Will Not Fly in the 80s’, Maariv, 21 April 1978.
50 Interview with Tal.
51 D. Goldstein, ‘Interview of the Week with Prime Minister Rabin’, Maariv, 18 April 1975.
52 Maariv, 6 March 1977.
53 Peres, Tomorrow Is Now, p. 59.
54 Y. Elitzur, ‘The Israeli Arms Industry Is “Bombed” in Washington’, Maariv, 31
December 1976.
55 Maariv, 27 June 1974.
56 Rabin, Memoirs, p. 515. This topic was raised by Israeli officials with the Secretary of
the Treasury when he was in Israel (Haaretz, 5 March 1976).
57 Maariv, 10 September 1979; 14 September 1979.
58 Haaretz, 18 March 1977; Davar, 11 May 1977.
59 Maariv, 23 June 1976.
60 In 1976, the Israeli defense complex supplied only one-third of the IDF total procurement (Kochav, ‘The Economics of Defense’, p. 182).
61 For a refutation of this claim see J. Churba, The Politics of Defeat, New York: Cyrco
Press, 1976, pp. 114–16.
62 During the decade of the 1970s, four states accounted for 87.5 percent of the value of
the global arms transfer: the United States (45 percent), the Soviet Union (27.5
percent), France (10 percent) and Britain (5 percent). When the West is added in, the
figure goes up to 94.3 percent. A. J. Pierre, ‘Arms Sales: The New Diplomacy’,
Foreign Affairs, winter 1981–82, vol. 61, 268–9. Israel is conspicuously missing from
the above list of major weapon exporters.
63 D. Goldstein, ‘Interview of the Week with Gavriel Gidor, the Executive Director of
the IAI’, Maariv, 31 March 1980.
64 Rabin on Israeli TV, 1 December 1981. Rabin emphasized that even during Begin’s
tenure as prime minister this pattern continued.
65 In a speech to party activists in Jerusalem. Haaretz, 29 April 1975.
3 Israel’s small war: the military response to the Intifada
1 See E. E. Azar, P. Jureidini and R. McLaurin, ‘Protracted Social Conflict: Theory and
Practice in the Middle East’, Journal of Palestine Studies, autumn 1978, vol. 6,
41–60.
Notes
243
2 For the term ‘compound conflict’ see S. Sandler, ‘The Protracted Arab–Israeli Conflict: A Temporal–Spatial Analysis’, Jerusalem Journal of International Relations,
10 December 1988, 55.
3 For the classic trichotomy of the sub-conventional, conventional and non-conventional
categories in the spectrum of violence, see Y. Harkabi (ed.) On Guerrilla, Tel Aviv:
Maarachot, 1971, introduction.
4 For an early treatment, see C. E. Calwell, Small Wars: Their Principles and Practice,
London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1906. For low-intensity conflict, see S. C.
Sarkesian and W. L. Scully (eds) American Policy and Low-intensity Conflict, New
Brunswick, NJ: Transaction, 1981. For an elucidation of the small-war concept see S.
A. Cohen and E. Inbar, ‘A Taxonomy of Israel’s Use of Force’, Comparative
Strategy, April 1991, vol. 10, 128–9.
5 This section relies on E. Inbar, War and Peace in Israeli Politics: Labour Party Positions on National Security, Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 1991, ch. 6.
6 See T. C. Shelling, Arms and Influence, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press,
1966, ch. 1.
7 M. Arens, ‘The Termination of Wars’, Maarachot, March–April 1984, nos 292–3, 3.
For the Israeli leadership’s views on war, see E. Inbar, ‘The “No Choice War” Debate
in Israel’, Journal of Strategic Studies, March 1989, vol. 12, 22–37; and E. Inbar,
‘Attitudes Toward War in the Israeli Political Elite’, Middle East Journal, summer
1989, vol. 44, 431–45.
8 D. Sagir, ‘Jordan Will Return’, Haaretz (in Hebrew), Israel’s Fortieth Year Magazine,
May 1988, 26; for Israeli decision-making, see L. Brownstein, ‘Decision Making in
Israeli Foreign Policy: An Unplanned Process’, Political Science Quarterly, summer
1977, 256–68; and Y. Ben-Meir, National Security Decision Making: The Israeli
Case, JCSS Study no. 8, Jerusalem: Jerusalem Post and Westview Press, 1986.
For a decision-making model stressing gradual and incremental changes, see
C.E. Lindblom, ‘The Science of “Muddling Through”’, Public Administration
Review, spring 1959, vol. 19, 79–88.
9 Z. Schiff and E. Yaari, Intifada (in Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Schocken, 1990, pp. 104–5.
10 Ibid., pp. 67–8.
11 See Rabin’s interview in Haaretz, 29 December 1987, A1.
12 Bemachane (in Hebrew), 30 December 1987, p. 5.
13 S. Mishal with R. Aharoni, Speaking Stones: The Words Behind the Palestinian
Intifada (in Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad and Avivim, 1979, p. 38.
14 For the English transcript, see Y. Rabin, ‘We Have Our Priorities’, Spectrum, April
1988, vol. 6, 11. This is a Labour Party organ.
15 For the ‘evoked set’, see R. Jervis, Perception and Misperception in International Politics, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1976, pp. 213–16; for the term ‘politicide’, see Y. Harkabi, Fedayeen Action and Arab Strategy, Adelphi Papers, no. 53,
London: International Institute for Strategic Studies, 1969, p. 11.
16 This interview with Yitzhak Rabin was carried on Israeli television, 13 January 1988.
For the transcript, see Journal of Palestine Studies, spring 1988, vol. 17, 153.
17 Ibid., pp. 153–4.
18 For the policy of beatings see I. Rosen, ‘Interview with Elkana Har-Nof’, Maariv,
19 September 1990, B9. Har-Nof served as the head of Rabin’s office.
19 Haaretz, 9 October 1988, A1.
20 Y. Tunik, ‘Interview with Maj Gen Mitzna’, Bemachane, 17 February 1988, 64.
21 By mid-1988 Israel realized that the lengthy legal process involved in deportations
reduced the deterrent power of such a step.
22 ‘Interview with Rabin’, Spectrum, 6 March 1988, 9.
23 ‘Interview with the Defense Minister Yitzhak Rabin’, Bemachane, 30 March
1988, 17.
244
Notes
24 G. Cohen, ‘Interview with the Minister of Defense, Yitzhak Rabin’, Davar, 29
September 1989, 16.
25 ‘Interview with the Defense Minister’.
26 Rabin, ‘We Have Our Priorities’, 11.
27 Ibid.
28 For the two basic forms of warfare, annihilation and attrition, see H. Delbruck,
A History of the Art of War 4, Westport, CO: Greenwood, 1985, pp. 293–315; also
G. A. Craig, ‘Delbruck’ in P. Paret (ed.) Makers of Modern Strategy: From Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University, 1986, pp. 326–53.
29 See e.g., Sagir, ‘Jordan Will Return’; ‘Interview with the Defense Minister, Yitzhak
Rabin’.
30 J. Greenberg, ‘From Bad to Worse’, Jerusalem Post, 17 February 1989, 4. See the
statement of the Chief of Staff Dan Shomron to the Parliamentary Committee
National Security and Foreign Affairs in Maariv, 17 May 1988, A3; D. Shilon, ‘With
Dan Shomron’, Haaretz, 17 March 1989, B-2.
31 Schiff and Yaari, Intifada, p. 296.
32 Ibid., p. 276; see also A. Shalev, The Intifada, Tel Aviv: Papyrus, 1990, p. 203.
33 Y. Rabin, lecture at the Jaffee Center of Strategic Studies, 7 December 1989.
34 Ibid.; see also the interview with Rabin, New York Times, 5 December 1989, A3.
35 Haaretz, 4 September 1989, A2.
36 Jerusalem Post, 8 December 1989, 4.
37 New York Times, 5 December 1989, A3.
38 Ibid.
39 Y. Rabin, televised interview 14 July 1988, quoted in Shalev, Intifada, p. 114.
40 Y. Rabin, quoted in Haaretz (in Hebrew), 5 January 1990, A6.
41 S. Metz, ‘Foundations for a Low-intensity Conflict Strategy’, Comparative Strategy,
1989, vol. 8, no. 2, 271.
42 B. Kimmerling, The Interrupted System, New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction, 1985.
43 Supplement presented by the Prime Minister’s Conference on Jewish Solidarity with
Israel, Jerusalem Post, 24 March 1989, 3.
44 Y. Rabin, interview on Israeli television, 13 January 1988, transcript, Journal of
Palestine Studies, spring 1988, vol. 17, 151.
45 M. Arens, quoted in Haaretz, 27 June 1990, A3.
46 Maariv, 6 June 1990, A1.
47 Israeli television, 25 September 1990.
48 B. Posen, Sources of Military Doctrine, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1984,
pp. 49–50.
49 F. Kitson, Low Intensity Operations, London: Faber and Faber, 1971, pp. 199–200.
50 S. C. Sarkesian, ‘American Policy and Low-intensity Conflict’ in American Policy
and Low-intensity Conflict, p. 11.
51 Y. Rabin, quoted in Spectrum, February 1988, vol. 6, 10.
52 Kitson, Low Intensity Operations, p. 92.
53 Z. Schiff, ‘Finally There Is Initiative’, Haaretz, 10 October 1989, B1.
54 Z. Schiff, ‘To Shorten the Service of the Girls’, Haaretz, 17 April 1990, B1.
55 E. Rosen, ‘A Draw’, Maariv, 8 December 1989, B3.
56 D. Sagir, ‘The Kibbutznik Is Again in Uniform’, Haaretz, 14 November 1989, B3.
57 Haaretz, 4 April 1990, A5.
58 ‘Interview with Rabin’, Spectrum, March 1988, vol. 6, 9.
59 Haaretz, 26 June 1990, A1.
60 D. Sagir, ‘The Evolution of Instructions’, Haaretz, 21 February 1989, B1.
61 The British train their units for about nine months before deployment. See D. A.
Charters, ‘From Palestine to Northern Ireland: British Adaptation to Low-intensity
Operations’ in D. A. Charters and M. Tugwell (eds) Armies in Low-intensity Conflict,
London: Brassey’s, 1989, p. 207.
Notes
245
62 For a very critical review of the types of ammunition and regulations governing
opening fire, see Opening Fire by the Security Forces in the Territories, Jerusalem:
Betzelem, July 1990.
63 See Kitson, Low Intensity Operations, p. 50.
64 It first held an exercise for such a contingency in November 1989. See Haaretz, 21
November 1989, A-3.
65 D. Shilon, ‘With Dan Shomron’, Haaretz, 17 March 1989, B2.
66 There has been a slight but consistent increase in hostile activities by Israeli Arabs
since the beginning of the Intifada. Following severe disturbances in the Israeli Arab
sector it was disclosed that contingency plans exist for IDF participation in the maintenance of law and order in Israel proper. See Haaretz, 22 May 1990, p. 1.
4 The ‘no choice war’ debate in Israel
1 For the developments leading up to the 1982 War in Lebanon see A. Yaniv and R. J.
Lieber, ‘Personal Whim or Strategic Imperative: The Israeli Invasion of Lebanon’,
International Security, fall 1983; E. Inbar, ‘Israel and Lebanon: 1975–1982’, Crossroads, spring 1983, vol. 10; I. Rabinovich, The War in Lebanon 1970–1985, rev. edn,
Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1986, pp. 89–122.
2 For the gradual break in the national consensus see S. Feldman and H. ReehnitzKijner, Deception, Consensus and War: Israel in Lebanon, JCSS Paper no. 27,
October 1984; D. Horowitz, ‘Israel’s War in Lebanon: New Patterns of Strategic
Thinking and Civilian–Military Relations’, Journal of Strategic Studies, September
1983, vol. 6, 85–8.
3 See S. N. Eisenstadt, The Internal Repercussions of the Lebanon War, Policy Studies
no. 17, The Leonard Davis Institute for International Relations, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, August 1986; see also O. Seliktar, New Zionism and the Foreign
Policy System in Israel, London: Croom Helm, 1986, pp. 219–74.
4 M. Shamir, ‘Realignment in the Israeli Party System’, in A. Arian and M. Shamir
(eds) The Elections in Israel 1984, Tel Aviv: Ramot, 1986, pp. 276–7.
5 The population upon which this work concentrates is the Knesset and the government members in the 1980s. Most attention is given to the leadership of the Israeli
parties. Their statements in the Knesset, in the newspapers and/or their writings are
the sources used. Of course, there is a different weight to a heated debate in the
Knesset than to what was submitted for publication, which allows second thoughts
and a more discriminating use of words. The second form of expression is preferred
in the source of material for this chapter. It is true that words used by the politicians
do not necessarily reflect their thoughts. This is an unsolved methodological
problem. Hopefully, awareness of the problem as well as sensitivity to the personalities and to the nuances in their statements can ameliorate the situation. Some of the
politicians covered in this work were active before the 1980s. The scope of this
chapter does not allow comparisons to previous periods. Their statements originating
before 1982 are used carefully in order to shed light on events that happened in
the 1980s.
6 On the use of limited force see D. Horowitz, ‘The Control of Limited Military Operations’, in Y. Evron (ed.) International Violence: Terrorism, Surprise and Control,
Jerusalem: The Leonard Davis Institute for International Relations, The Hebrew University, 1979, pp. 258–76.
7 A preventive strike is launched to destroy the potential threat of the enemy, while a
pre-emptive strike is launched in anticipation of immediate enemy aggression. To
some extent, this is a post facto distinction.
8 R. Eitan, A Soldier’s Story (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Maariv Library, 1985, p. 117. For
similar views of another Techia party leader, Yuval Neeman, see his A Sober Policy
(Hebrew), Ramat Gan: Revivim, 1984.
246
Notes
9 M. Arens, ‘The Ending of Wars’, Maarachot (Hebrew), March–April 1984, nos
292–3, 4. See also his remarks in Security Borders, CSS Papers no. 2, 2 August 1978,
p. 9. For a systemic explanation of the existence of wars see K. N. Waltz, Man, the
State and War, New York: Columbia University Press, 1954.
10 A. Rubinstein, From Herzl to Gush Emunim and Back (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Shocken,
1980, p. 103.
11 See his remarks in Security Borders, p. 12.
12 S. Peres, ‘Strategy for an Interim Period’, International Security, winter 1978, vol. 2,
11. This is a translated part of his book Tomorrow is Now (Hebrew), Jerusalem:
Mabat, 1978.
13 For this aspect of the attitudinal prism of the Israeli political elite see M. Brecher, The
Foreign Policy System of Israel, London: Oxford University Press, 1972, pp. 233–44.
For this basic sense of insecurity see also J. Y. Gonen, A Psycho-History of Zionism,
New York: Meridian, 1975, ch. 2.
14 Seliktar, New Zionism and the Foreign Policy System of Israel, p. 165.
15 Parliament Minutes (PM), p. 2957, 29 June 1982. (Unless specified, the emphases in
the quotations throughout this chapter are mine.)
16 PM, p. 2737, 8 June 1982.
17 PM, p. 2965, 29 June 1982. For similar statements of other Likud MKs see, inter alia,
PM, p. 1195, 1 February 1983.
18 PM, p. 2935, 29 June 1982. The war had been obviously planned by Sharon earlier;
see Z. Schiff and E. Yaari, The War in Lebanon (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Shocken, 1984.
19 M. Waltzer, Just and Unjust Wars, New York: Basic Books, 1977, p. 19.
20 PM, p. 2642, 11 May 1982.
21 PM, p. 2413, 18 May 1982.
22 PM, p. 2161, 3 May 1982. For similar statements of Labour MKs see, inter alia, PM,
p. 2203, 16 May 1982.
23 PM, p. 3624, 8 September 1982.
24 Mordechai Tzipori seemed to be the first to suggest the need for a definition of
Israel’s war objectives in 1977. He served then as the deputy Minister of Defense in
the first Likud government. According to Ezer Weizman, the Minister of Defense at
that time, nothing came out of his deputy’s initiative due to widespread resistance
to the idea of defining war objectives. See his The Battle for Peace (Hebrew),
Jerusalem: Edanim, 1982, p. 37. A similar reluctance to discuss the strategic goals of
wars is discerned also in the high echelons of the IDF; see I. Wald, The Curse of the
Broken Vessels (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Shocken, 1987, pp. 16–23. This reluctance is
another aspect of the basic weaknesses and flaws in the decision-making in the area of
national security. For an analysis of this area see Y. Ben-Meir, National Security
Decision Making: The Israeli Case, JCSS Study no. 8, Jerusalem: Jerusalem Post
Press, 1986.
25 Few in the political elite refrained from using this term. One example is Likud MK
Yosef Rom who rejected the validity of the ‘no choice’ terminology on grounds
similar to those mentioned above; see PM, p. 2211, 16 May 1983.
26 For a discussion of the issue of just war see Waltzer, Just and Unjust Wars. For an
attempt to categorize Israeli wars according to the ‘no choice war’ dimension, incorporating also the just war criteria, see A. Yariv, ‘No Choice War – War By Choice’,
in A. Yariv (ed.) War By Choice (Hebrew), JCSS Books, Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz
Hameuchad Publishing House, 1985.
27 PM, p. 2946, 29 June 1982.
28 M. Bar-On, Peace Now (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad Publishing
House, 1985, p. 141. Bar-On served in the early 1980s as MK representing the Movement for Civil Rights. He was an activist in and quite often a spokesman for
Peace Now.
29 Y. Tzur, ‘The Essence of the Debate’, in The Lebanon War – Between Protest and
Notes
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
247
Compliance (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad Publishing House, 1983,
p. 165.
Ibid., p. 169.
Bar-On, Peace Now, p. 141.
A. Eban, ‘The Six Day War: An Opportunity, But No Solution’, Monthly Review
(Hebrew), 1987, vol. 34, nos 3–4, 13.
For the art of commitment see T. C. Schelling, Arms and Influence, New Haven, CT:
Yale University Press, 1976, pp. 35–90.
The discussion on Menachem Begin’s position is based on his well-publicized
address to the Staff and Command School of the IDF. For a transcript of his speech
see, inter alia, ‘A “No Choice War” or a “War by Choice” ’, Maariv, 20 August 1982.
Ibid.
For his preference for an activist policy see A. Naor, Cabinet at War (Hebrew), Tel
Aviv: Lahav, 1986, p. 21. Naor, a former disciple of Begin, served for a long period
as the Likud-led government’s secretary. For the revisionist preference for the use of
force in changing history see Y. Shavit, The Mythologies of the Zionist Right Wing
(Hebrew), Beit Berl: Beit Berl and Moshe Sharett Institute, 1987, pp. 225–8; E. Luz,
‘The Moral Price of Sovereignty: The Dispute About the Use of Military Power
Within Zionism’, Modern Judaism, February 1987, 64–9.
When defending Israel’s July air strike on the Iraqi nuclear reactor, Begin also used
this term. He went to great lengths to explain self-defense; see PM, p. 85, 5 August
1981.
Eitan, A Soldier’s Story, p. 209.
Y. Rabin, The War in Lebanon (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1983, vol. 7, p. 45.
For a discussion of the two approaches see Zvi Lanir, ‘The Political Goals and the
Military Objectives in Israel’s Wars’, in War By Choice, pp. 117–42. For the changes
in the Israeli strategic thinking in the 1970s and in the 1980s see E. Inbar, ‘Israeli
Strategic Thinking After 1973’, Journal of Strategic Studies, March 1983, vol. 6; see
also Horowitz, ‘The War in Lebanon’, p. 95.
Inbar, ‘Israeli Strategic Thinking After 1973’, 49; see also Naor, Cabinet at War, pp.
7, 81, 93.
Rabin, The War in Lebanon, p. 45.
Tzur, ‘The Essence of the Debate’, 165.
Rabin, The War in Lebanon, p. 45.
For the formalist position of Peres in the case of the normatively problematic preventive war of 1956 see his Tomorrow is Now, pp. 249–50; for Rabin’s justification of
the war in Lebanon, as well as all the other Israeli wars, see his The War in Lebanon,
pp. 19–45.
PM, p. 1194, 1 February 1983.
Peres, Tomorrow is Now, p. 249.
C. Bar-Lev, ‘The War and Its Aims as Reflected in IDF’s Wars’, Maarachot
(Hebrew), October/November 1978, no. 266, 3.
Maariv, 29 October 1986.
See D. Horowitz, ‘The Control of Limited Military Operations’.
Y. Rabin, ‘Political Illusions and Their Price’, in The Lebanon War – Between Protest
and Compliance, p. 13.
Rabin, The War in Lebanon, p. 33.
H. Morgenthau, Politics Among Nations, 4th edn, New York: A. A. Knopf, 1968,
p. 10.
Y. Rabin, Memoirs (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Maariv Library, 1979, pp. 253–4, 261, 263.
PM, p. 3424, 9 August 1982.
PM, p. 3502, 12 August 1982.
Yediot Acharonot, 14 April 1981.
Neeman, A Sober Policy, pp. 111–13; see also PM, p. 2743, 8 June 1982.
248
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
Notes
Neeman, A Sober Policy, p. 187.
Ibid., p. 186.
Ibid., p. 59.
Ariel Sharon’s Address to the International Symposium on Strategic Problems at Tel
Aviv University, ‘Israel’s Strategic Problems in the 1980’s’, 14 December 1981. It
was widely publicized. See, inter alia, Maariv, 18 December 1981.
For the changes in Israeli foreign policy see Inbar, ‘Israeli Strategic Thinking After
1973’, 46–8.
Eitan, A Soldier’s Story, p. 332.
Ibid., p. 286.
Ibid., p. 209.
PM, p. 2620, 20 June 1983.
A. Oren, ‘1967 With Minor Rectifications’, Al-Hamishmar, 27 October 1978.
Begin, ‘No Choice War – War By Choice’.
For such considerations concerning the use of force see Naor, Cabinet at War, pp. 45,
48; PM, p. 2746, 8 June 1982; S. Nakdimon, Tammuz in Flames (Hebrew), Tel Aviv:
Edanim Publishers, 1986, p. 196; Begin, ‘No Choice War – War By Choice’.
Y. Shavit, ‘Between Ideology and Power’, in The Lebanon War – Between Protest
and Compliance, p. 161.
See Y. Harkabi, Fateful Decisions (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1987, pp. 96,
125–6. See also note 36 above.
See Schiff and Yaari, The War in Lebanon; also Naor’s account does not indicate that
Begin was fully aware of the war’s objectives.
M. Tzipori, ‘Use Stratagems in War’, in Z. Ofer and Maj. A. Kober (eds) The Price of
Power (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Maarachot, 1984, p. 209.
M. Arens, ‘The Termination of Wars’, Maarachot (Hebrew), March–April, 292–3,
3.
5 Israel and the Gulf War
1 R. J. Lieber, ‘Oil and Power After the Gulf War’, International Security, summer
1992, vol. 17, no. 1, 160–2.
2 On his personality, see E. Karsh and I. Rautsi, Saddam Hussein: A Political Biography, London: Brassey’s, 1991.
3 FBIS Daily Report, Near East and South Asia, 3 April 1990, pp. 32–3.
4 Jerusalem Post, 27 August 1990, 1.
5 M. Arens, Broken Covenant (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Yediot Aharonot, 1995, p. 163.
6 For the evoked set concept, see R. Jervis, Perception and Misperception in International Politics, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1976, pp. 213–16.
7 Arens, Broken Covenant, p. 163. For US apprehensions, see J. A. Baker III with
T. M. DeFrank, The Politics of Diplomacy: Revolution, War and Peace, 1989–1992,
New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1995, pp. 277, 300.
8 For an analysis of the behavior of the Arab states during the crisis, see B. MaddyWeitzman, ‘Continuity and Change in the Inter-Arab System’, in G. Barzilai, A.
Klieman and G. Shidlo (eds) The Gulf Crisis and Its Global Aftermath, London:
Routledge, 1993, pp. 33–50.
9 Y. Shamir, Summing-Up (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Edanim, 1994, pp. 264–5, see also his
interview to the Jerusalem Post, 23 August 1990, 1.
10 Jerusalem Post, 30 November 1990, 1. See also Arens, Broken Covenant, p. 162.
11 Arens, Broken Covenant, p. 163. See also L. Zittrain Eisenberg, ‘Passive Belligerency: Israel and the 1991 Gulf War’, Journal of Strategic Studies, September
1992, vol. 15, no. 3, 306.
12 Arens, Broken Covenant, pp. 177, 181 (see also the discussion below of the Jordanian
angle).
Notes
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53
249
Yediot Aharonot, 7 Days Magazine, 5 January 2001, 15–20.
Arens, Broken Covenant, p. 183.
Davar, 10 August 1990, 1.
Jerusalem Post, 25 September 1990, 1.
Haaretz, 7 November 2000, A1.
Maariv, 30 December 1990, 1.
Yediot Aharonot, 11 January 1991, 2.
Arens, Broken Covenant, pp. 160–1, 164, 185–6.
G. M. Steinberg, ‘Israeli Responses to the Threat of Chemical Warfare’, Armed
Forces & Society, fall 1993, vol. 20, no. 1, 85–101.
Arens, Broken Covenant, p. 168.
New York Times, 10 January 1991.
A. Susser, Jordan: Case Study of a Pivotal State, Policy Papers 53, Washington, DC:
Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 2000, pp. 69–90.
Arens, Broken Covenant, pp. 158–61.
M. Zak, King Hussein Makes Peace (Hebrew), Ramat Gan: BESA Center for Strategic Studies and Bar-Ilan University Press, 1996, pp. 35–6.
Shamir, Summing-Up, p. 265. Iraqi military presence in Jordan has traditionally been
an Israeli ‘red line’. See M. Bar, Red Lines in Israel’s Deterrence Strategy (Hebrew),
Tel Aviv: Maarachot, 1990, pp. 97–9.
Jerusalem Post, 25 December 1990, 1.
For Jordanian perceptions of the situation, see Susser, Jordan: Case Study of a
Pivotal State, pp. 72–4.
Zak, King Hussein Makes Peace, pp. 49–50.
G. Barzilai, ‘Israel’, in Middle East Contemporary Survey: 1990, Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993, p. 444.
Baker, The Politics of Diplomacy, p. 385.
Shamir, Summing-Up, p. 268.
Arens, Broken Covenant, p. 178.
Ibid., p. 161.
Ibid., pp. 184–5.
Ibid., p. 167.
Ibid., pp. 168–70.
Ibid., p. 189.
Baker, The Politics of Diplomacy, p. 385. The third member of the American delegation was National Security Council staffer Merrill Ruck.
Arens, Broken Covenant, p. 188.
Ibid., p. 224.
Ibid., pp. 196–7.
R. Ben-Yishai, ‘Interview with the Chief of Staff, Lt Gen. Ehud Barak’, Yediot
Aharonot, 29 September 1999.
D. Shomron, ‘Personal Report on the Gulf War’, Yediot Aharonot, 8 September 1991.
D. A. Welch, ‘The Politics and Psychology of Restraint: Israeli Decision Making in
the Gulf War’, International Journal, spring 1992, vol. 46, 341.
Shamir, Summing-Up, p. 263.
L. Freedman and E. Karsh, The Gulf Conflict, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University
Press, 1993, p. 106.
See Shamir, Summing-Up, pp. 271–2; Arens, Broken Covenant, pp. 197–200, 208,
215–17, 229–30.
Arens, Broken Covenant, p. 206.
Ibid., p. 226.
Ibid., pp. 229–30.
For such a line of thinking, see R. Ned Lebow, ‘What’s So Different About Counterfactual’, World Politics, July 2000, vol. 52, 550–85.
250
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Notes
Welch, ‘The Politics and Psychology of Restraint’, 353.
Baker, The Politics of Diplomacy, p. 387.
Ibid.
M. Gordon and B. Trainor, The General’s War, Boston, MA: Little, Brown, 1994,
p. 224.
C. Powell, My American Journey, New York: Random House, 1995, p. 488.
Baker, The Politics of Diplomacy, p. 388.
Arens, Broken Covenant, p. 203.
R. Pedahtzur, ‘The Gulf War in Israeli Eyes’, Maarchot (Hebrew), June–July 1993,
no. 330, 14.
Maariv, 1 February 1991.
Yediot Aharonot, 19 June 1991, 4.
Arens, Broken Covenant, pp. 204, 212–13.
Baker, The Politics of Diplomacy, pp. 388–9.
For the details, see Eisenberg, ‘Passive Belligerency’, 314–15.
Baker, The Politics of Diplomacy, p. 390
Arens, Broken Covenant, p. 208.
Maariv, 1 February 1991. For similar results, see Haaretz, 28 January 1991. See also
Y. Ben-Meir, ‘The Israeli Home Front in the Gulf War’, in J. Alpher (ed.) War in the
Gulf: Implications for Israel, Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1992.
G. Barzilai, ‘Society and Politics in War: The Israeli Case’, in Barzilai, Klieman and
Shidlo, The Gulf Crisis and its Global Aftermath, pp. 140–1.
G. Simmel, Conflict, New York: Free Press, 1955.
See Stuart Cohen ‘The (Non-) Legacy of the 1991 Gulf War’, in A. Bacevich and E.
Inbar (eds) The Gulf War of 1991 Reconsidered, London: Frank Cass Publishers,
2002, pp. 90–117.
For a review of Israel’s predicament in this decade, see Chapter 7 in this volume.
For the Soviet role, see A. Z. Rubinstein, ‘Moscow and the Gulf War: Decisions and
Consequences’, International Journal, spring 1994, vol. 39, 302–28.
E. Inbar, ‘Arab–Israeli Coexistence: The Causes, Achievements and Limitations’,
Israel Affairs, spring–summer 2000, vol. 6, nos 2–3, 260–1.
Baker, The Politics of Diplomacy, p. 274.
Ibid.
Shomron, ‘Personal Report on the Gulf War’, 4.
Zak, King Hussein Makes Peace, pp. 50–1.
E. Inbar and S. Sandler, ‘Israeli Deterrence Strategy Revisited’, Security Studies,
winter 1993–94, vol. 3, no. 2, 330–58.
See S. Feldman, ‘Israeli Deterrence’, in Alpher, War in the Gulf.
N. Schwartzkopf, It Doesn’t Take a Hero, New York: Bantam Books, 1992, p. 373.
Baker, The Politics of Diplomacy, p. 385.
A. Baram, ‘Israeli Deterrence, Iraqi Responses’, Orbis, summer 1992, vol. 36, no. 3,
398–9.
T. A. Keaney and E. A. Cohen, Revolution in Warfare? Air Power in the Persian
Gulf, Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1995, p. 72.
E. Inbar, Rabin and Israel’s National Security, Baltimore, MD and Washington,
DC: Johns Hopkins University Press and Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 1999,
pp. 125, 138.
6 Contours of Israel’s new strategic thinking
1 For studies of small states, see, inter alia, D. Vital, The Inequality of States, Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1967; M. Handel, Weak States in the International System,
London: Frank Cass, 1981; E. Karsh, Neutrality and Small States, London: Routledge, 1988.
Notes
251
2 For such a doctrine that had adherents in Norway, Sweden, and particularly in
Denmark before World War 1, see Handel, Weak States in the International System,
p. 77.
3 For internal versus external balancing, see K. N. Waltz, Theory of International
Politics, Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley Publishing, 1983, p. 168; for a review of
the literature on alliances, see G. H. Snyder, ‘Alliances, Balance and Stability’,
International Organization, winter 1991, vol. 45, 121–42.
4 Y. Sarid speaking at a colloquium on Sharet at the Hebrew University, 21 November
1994. For the Sharet–Ben-Gurion dispute over foreign and national security policies,
see M. Brecher, The Foreign Policy System of Israel, London: Oxford University
Press, 1972, pp. 251–90; G. Sheffer, Resolution vs. Management of the Middle East
Conflict, Jerusalem Papers on Peace Problems, no. 32, Jerusalem: Leonard Davis
Institute for International Relations, Hebrew University, 1980.
5 For works on Israel’s security thinking, see M. I. Handel, Israel’s Political–Military Doctrine, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Occasional Papers, July 1973;
I. Tal, ‘Israel’s Doctrine of National Security: Background and Dynamics’,
Jerusalem Quarterly, summer 1977, vol. 4; Y. Ben Horin and B. Posen, Israel’s
Strategic Doctrine, Paper no. 4–2845-NA, Santa Monica, CA: Rand Corporation,
1981; E. Inbar, ‘Israeli Strategic Thinking After 1973’, Journal of Strategic
Studies, March 1983, vol. 6, 36–59; D. Horowitz, ‘The Constant and the Changing
in Israeli Strategic Thinking’ in J. Alpher (ed.) War by Choice (Hebrew), Te1
Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1985, pp. 58–77; and A. Levite, Offense and
Defence in Israeli Military Doctrine, JCSS Study no. 12, Boulder, CO: Westview
Press, 1989.
6 D. Ben-Gurion, ‘Israel Among Nations’, Government Yearbook 5713 (Hebrew),
Jerusalem: State of Israel, 1952/53, quoted in Brecher, The Foreign Policy System of
Israel, p. 265.
7 In a speech to party activists in Jerusalem, Haaretz, 29 April 1975.
8 For the Israeli leadership’s perceptions of the international environment, see
Brecher, The Foreign Policy System of Israel, pp. 251–369. For a discussion of the
impact of Jewishness on Israel’s foreign policy, see ibid., pp. 229–43; A. S.
Klieman, Israel and the World After 40 Years, Washington, DC: Pergamon
Brassey’s, 1990, pp. 52–7; E. Inbar, ‘Jews, Jewishness and Israel’s Foreign Policy’,
Jewish Political Studies Review, fall 1990, vol. 2, 165–83.
9 Klieman, Israel and the World After 40 Years, pp. 91–3.
10 See M. Brecher, Decisions in Israel’s Foreign Policy, London: Oxford University
Press, 1974, pp. 111–71; U. Bialer, Between East and West, Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1990.
11 For the early search for allies, see A. Yaniv, Deterrence Without the Bomb: The
Politics of Israeli Strategy, Lexington, MA: Lexington Books, 1987, pp. 48–55.
12 Senator William Fulbright and Under-Secretary of State George Ball were among the
proponents. For a critical analysis of an American–Israeli defense treaty reflecting
official thinking, see Y. Evron, ‘Some Political and Strategic Implications of an
American–Israeli Defense Treaty’, in H. Shaked and I. Rabinovich (eds) The Middle
East and the United States, New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Books, 1980, pp. 371–94.
13 E. Inbar, Outcast States in the World Community, Monograph Series in International
Affairs, Denver: University of Denver Press, 1985.
14 ‘Israeli Strategic Thinking After 1973’, 41–5.
15 For Israel’s nuclear program and policy, see L. S. Spector, The Undeclared Bomb,
Cambridge, MA: Ballinger, 1988; L. R. Beres (ed.), Security or Armageddon:
Israel’s Nuclear Strategy, Lexington, MA: Lexington Books, 1986. The most comprehensive discussion is Y. Evron, Israel’s Nuclear Dilemma, Ithaca, NY: Cornell
University Press, 1994.
16 For the evolvement of Labour’s thinking on security matters, see E. Inbar, War and
252
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18
19
20
21
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25
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27
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29
30
31
32
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34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
Notes
Peace in Israeli Politics, Labour Party Positions on National Security, Boulder, CO:
Lynne Rienner, 1991.
Addresses by Yitzhak Rabin and Mordechai Gur, in Yehudah Mirsky and Ellen Rice
(eds) Towards a New Era in US–Israel Relations, Washington, DC: The Washington Institute, September 1992, pp. 1–2, 29–30.
Ibid., p. 2.
S. Peres with A. Naor, The New Middle East, New York: Henry Holt, 1993, p. 46.
‘Interview with Ezer Weizman’, Spectrum, 6 June 1988, 10. This is the Labour
Party’s monthly journal published in English.
Haaretz, 3 January 1994.
Rabin’s address when presenting his new government, Knesset Minutes, 13 July
1992.
Speech delivered by Yitzhak Rabin to graduates of the National Security College,
12 August 1993, Official Text, 3 (emphasis in original).
See Y. Beilin, Israel-40 Plus, Tel Aviv: Yediot Aharonot, 1993.
Haaretz, 10 October 1994 (emphasis added).
See ‘Interview with Prime Minister Rabin’, Bamahaneh, 23 September 1992, 9.
Ibid. See also statements of the Israeli Air Force Commander H. Bodinger, Haaretz,
15 June 1992.
‘Interview with Rabin’, Maariv, Shabbat Supplement, 24 June 1994; see also the
report of his remarks to the Knesset Committee for Security and Foreign Affairs,
Haaretz, 15 March 1995.
Peres, The New Middle East, p. 83.
For the role of common aversions in collaboration, see A. Stein, ‘Coordination and
Collaboration: Regimes in an Anarchic World’, International Organization, spring
1982, vol. 36, 304–11.
See the report of Rabin’s speech to the Knesset in Haaretz, 21 January 1993.
Peres, The New Middle East, p. 77.
Haaretz, 1 December 1994; see also Beilin’s speech in the Knesset on this issue,
Haaretz, 17 February 1993.
For the transcript of Shimon Peres speech, see Haaretz, 2 June 1989. For an elaborate argument about the changing nature of power, see S. Brown, ‘The Changing
Essence of Power’, Foreign Affairs, January 1973, vol. 52, 286–99.
S. Peres, ‘The New Middle East in a Brave New World’, Jerusalem Post, 8
December 1989.
Peres, The New Middle East, p. 78.
S. Peres, ‘The Knife and the Missile’, Maariv, Shabbat Supplement, 26 March
1993, 10.
Rabin’s address when presenting his new government, Knesset Minutes, 13 July
1992.
See Haaretz, 29 June 1994.
‘Policy Statement by PM Yitzhak Rabin to the Knesset’, 3 October 1994, Official
Transcript.
For the relations between economic ideas and international relations, see R. Gilpin,
‘Three Models of the Future’, International Organization, winter 1975, vol. 29,
37–63.
For Israeli views on the increased importance of technology in the future battlefield,
see Z. Bonen, ‘The Impact of Technological Developments on the Strategic Balance
in the Middle East’, in S. Gazit and Z. Eytan (eds) The Middle East Military
Balance, 1993–1994, Boulder, CO: Westview Press for the Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies, 1994, pp. 148–63; A. Levran, The Strategic and Military Implications
of the Second Gulf War, BESA Studies in Mideast Security, London: Frank Cass,
1996.
Peres, The New Middle East, pp. 77–8.
Notes
253
44 Horowitz, ‘The Constant and the Changing in Israeli Strategic Thinking’, 74–5; see
also Yair, The Demilitarization of Sinai, Jerusalem Papers on Peace Problems no. 11,
Jerusalem: The Leonard Davis Institute for International Relations, Hebrew University, 1975; D. Horowitz, Israel’s Concept of Defensible Borders, Jerusalem Papers on
Peace Problems, no. 16, Jerusalem: The Leonard Davis Institute for International
Relations, Hebrew University, 1975; Inbar, ‘Israeli Strategic Thinking After 1973’,
41–2.
45 M. Gur, Official Transcript, 13 September 1994.
46 Haaretz, 16 November 1993.
47 Official Transcript, 13 September 1994.
48 A. Kaspi, ‘Interview Amnon Shahak’, Al Hamishmar, 25 April 1993.
49 Bamachane, 25 May 1994, 33.
50 Yediot Aharonot, 22 April 1994, 3.
51 For the rise of statism as the main component of the Israeli civil religion, see C. S.
Liebman and E. Don-Yehiya, Civil Religion in Israel, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983, pp. 81–122.
52 E. Inbar, ‘The “No Choice War” Debate in Israel’, Journal of Strategic Studies, 12
March 1989, 22–37. The author’s interviews with sixty-seven members of the
Knesset during the summer of 1990 reinforce this finding.
53 G. Goldberg, G. Barzilai and E. Inbar, The Impact of Intercommunal Conflict: The
Intifada and Israeli Public Opinion, Policy Studies no. 43, Jerusalem: The Leonard
Davis Institute, The Hebrew University, February 1991.
54 E. Inbar, ‘Israel’s Small War: The Military Response to the Intifada’, Armed Forces
and Society, fall 1991, vol. 18, 29–50.
55 Haaretz, 27 January 1993.
56 For a discussion of Israeli deterrence in the context of the peace process, see E.
Inbar and S. Sandler, ‘Israeli Deterrence Strategy Revisited’, Security Studies,
winter 1993–94, vol. 3, 346–8.
57 For an analysis of such a strategy, see J. Gross Stein, ‘Reassurance in International
Conflict Management’, Political Science Quarterly, fall 1991, vol. 106, 431–51.
58 Haaretz, 11 November 1992.
59 Haaretz, 13 December 1992.
60 For a recent complaint, see Maariv, Shabbat Supplement, 27 January 1995, 19.
61 For the changing interactions between the IDF and Israeli society, see S. A. Cohen,
‘The Israel Defence Force (IDF), From a “People’s Army” to a “Professional
Military” – Causes and Implications’, Armed Forces and Society, winter 1995, vol.
21, 237–54; and his ‘How Did the Intifada Affect the IDF’, Conflict Quarterly,
summer 1994, vol. 14, 7–22.
62 S. A. Cohen, ‘ “Masqueraders” in the Israel Defense Forces, 1991–1992: The Military Unit and the Public Debate’, Low-Intensity Conflict & Law Enforcement,
autumn 1993, vol. 2, 293–6.
63 For a similar argument about the decline of Western armies and consequent
restraint, see P. Venesson, ‘Peace and Paralysis: Decline of Western Military Elites
and Non-Intervention in International Politics’, paper presented for delivery at the
Sixteenth World Congress of the International Political Science Association, Berlin,
21–25 August 1994.
64 I. Rosen, ‘The Security Zone: The Price is Too High’, Maariv, Shabbat Supplement,
27 July 1993, 8. See also E. Rabin, ‘We Have Seen This Movie Several Times
Already’, Haaretz, 12 July 1993.
65 Z. Schiff, ‘The Children Are Too Tired’, Haaretz, 8 February 1995.
66 See M. Hofnung, Israel’s Security Needs Versus The Rule of Law (Hebrew),
Jerusalem: Nevo, 1991.
67 Yediot Aharonot, 3 September 1993, 4.
68 For a study on the serious impact on wives of traumatized soldiers, see Z. Solomon
1
2
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5
6
7
8
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Notes
et al., ‘From the Battlefront to the Homefront: Research on Secondary Traumatization’, Refuah (Hebrew), June 1993, vol. 124, 750–6; Y. Neria, Life in the Shadow of
War – Psychological Aspects (Hebrew), Jerusalem: The Leonard Davis Institute,
The Hebrew University, April 1994.
A. Segev, ‘Interview with Reuven Gal’, Haaretz, 11 October 1994.
Haaretz, 22 March 1995.
Goldberg et al., The Impact of Intercommunal Conflict; G. Barzilai and E. Inbar,
‘Do Wars Have an Impact? Israeli Public Opinion After the Gulf War’, Jerusalem
Journal of International Relations, March 1992, vol. 14, 48–64; A. Arian, Israeli
Security and the Peace Process: Public Opinion in 1994, JCSS Memorandum no.
43, Tel Aviv: JCSS, Tel Aviv University, March 1994.
M. Howard, ‘The Forgotten Dimension of Strategy’, Foreign Affairs, summer 1979,
vol. 57, 975–86.
S. Rosen, ‘War Power and the Willingness to Suffer’, in B. M. Russett (ed.) Peace,
War and Numbers, Beverly Hills, CA: Sage, 1972, pp. 167–83.
This is an issue as yet unstudied in Israeli society. For a preliminary study of
changes in American society and the impact on foreign policy, see J. Citrin, E. B.
Haas, C. Muste and B. Reingold, ‘Is American Nationalism Changing? Implications
for Foreign Policy’, International Studies Quarterly, March 1994, vol. 38, 1–31.
Rabin’s public lecture to the Forum for Security, Judaism and Society, 8 January
1995. See also A. Ben, ‘Preference for the Rear’, Haaretz, 20 July 1993.
Maariv, 16 April 1994.
For a more extensive discussion, see E. Inbar, ‘Attitudes Toward War in the Israeli
Political Elite’, Middle East Journal, summer 1990, vol. 44, 431–45. We also
witness a recent Israeli intellectual vogue to question the morality of the Zionist
enterprise and the use of force needed to establish and defend the Jewish state. For a
report on this trend, see C. Ben-David, ‘Heroes Under Attack’, Jerusalem Report,
29 December 1994, 12–17.
Ibid., 442.
Ibid., 442–3.
Peres, The New Middle East, p. 58.
Haaretz, 25 December 1994.
Indeed, the rise of Third World arms producers in the new international system
allows recipient countries to procure arms with less political dependency upon their
suppliers, giving such countries the ability to pursue their ambitions more freely. See
A. Gupta, ‘Third World Militaries: New Suppliers, Deadlier Weapons’, Orbis,
winter 1993, vol. 37, 57–68.
Haaretz, 17 February 1993.
Interview to Bamahane, 5 January 1994, 11.
Davar, 17 January 1992, 18.
A. Sharon, ‘The Oslo Agreement: A Seed for War’, Yediot Aharonot, Shabbat Supplement, 2 February 1994, 3; for Natanyahu’s statement, see Davar, 17 February 1993.
See Haaretz, 1 November 1994, 4; Maariv, 16 December 1994, 3.
See ‘Interview with PM Rabin’, Bamahaneh.
Ben, ‘Preference for the Rear’. For a critical analysis of the active defense option
embodied in the Arrow, see R. Pedatzur, The Arrow System and the Active Defense
Against Ballistic Missiles, Memorandum no. 42, Tel Aviv: Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies, Tel Aviv University, October 1993.
See Bodinger’s preference for an American system to save costs and to utilize the
American aid funds, Davar, 15 June 1992, 2.
Haaretz, 21 January 1993.
Haaretz, 30 April 1993.
P. J. Garrity, ‘Implications of the Persian Gulf War for Regional Powers’, Washington Quarterly, summer 1993, vol. 16, 156–7.
Notes
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
255
Peres, The New Middle East, p. 83.
Mirsky and Rice, Towards a New Era in US-Israeli Relations, p. 31.
Peres, The New Middle East, pp. 61–4.
Jerusalem Post, international edn, 4 June 1994, 2; see also A. Ben, ‘Full Withdrawal
in Exchange for Comprehensive Regional Peace’, Haaretz, 22 June 1994.
Peres, The New Middle East, p. 64. See also the interview with Peres, Haaretz,
11 February 1993.
See the address by Shimon Peres at the signing of the CWC in Paris, 13 January
1993, in E. Inbar and S. Sandler (eds) Mideast Security: The Prospects for Arms
Control, BESA Studies in Mideast Security, London; Frank Cass, 1995, pp. 251–4.
Haaretz, 16 November 1993.
E. Inbar, ‘Israel and Arms Control’, Arms Control, September 1992, vol. 13, 217;
G. M. Steinberg, ‘Middle East Arms Control and Regional Security’, Survival,
spring 1994, vol. 36, 126–31.
For the work of ACRS, see S. Feldman, ‘Progress Toward Middle East Arms
Control’, in The Middle East Military Balance, 1993–1994, 182–210.
A. Ben, ‘A Dispute Over Clinton’s Initiative’, Haaretz, 28 December 1993; A. Ben,
‘Minimizing the Peace Risks’, Haaretz, 11 February 1994; R. Adelist, ‘What Do We
Do with it?’, Hadashot, Weekend Supplement, 22 October 1993, 1–3.
Yediot Aharonot, 21 January 1993.
Yediot Aharonot, 16 November 1993; Haaretz, 13 November 1993.
Haaretz, 8 November 1994.
Peres, The New Middle East, p. 80.
Z. Schiff, ‘Problems of Military Might’, Haaretz, 8 July 1994.
Haaretz, 20 November 1992.
Haaretz, 19 May 1994.
7 Israel’s strategic environment in the 1990s
1 B. Rubin, ‘The Arab–Israeli Conflict is Over’, Middle East Quarterly, September
1996, vol. 34, 3–13; A. Sela, The Decline of the Arab–Israeli Conflict. Middle East
Politics and the Quest for Regional Order, Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1998; E. Inbar,
‘Arab–Israeli Coexistence: The Causes, Achievements and Limitations’, Israel
Affairs, summer 2000, vol. 6, nos 3–4, 256–70.
2 E. Inbar, Outcast Countries in the World Community, University of Denver, 1985,
pp. 41–53.
3 S. Feldman, The Future of U.S.–Israeli Strategic Cooperation, Washington, DC:
Washington Institute, 1996.
4 Defense News, 4 October 1999, 25.
5 S. Huntington, ‘The Lonely Superpower’, Foreign Affairs, March–April 1999, vol.
78, no. 2, 35–49.
6 E. Inbar, Rabin and Israel’s National Security, Washington, DC and Baltimore, MD:
Wilson Center Press and Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999, p. 129.
7 For Israeli arms control policies, see G. Steinberg, ‘Israel and the Changing
Global Non-proliferation Regime: The NPT Extension, CTBT, and Fissile Cut-off’,
Contemporary Security Policy, April 1995, vol. 16, no. 1, 70–83; S. Feldman, Nuclear
Weapons and Arms Control in the Middle East, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1996; E.
Inbar, ‘Contours of Israel’s New Strategic Thinking’, Political Science Quarterly,
spring 1996, vol. 111, no. 1, 41–64.
8 For US–Korean relations, see B. Kux, ‘The North Korean Nuclear Crisis – A Review
Essay’, Security Studies, autumn 1998, vol. 8, no. 1, 239–63.
9 For the policy of dual containment, see P. Clawson, ‘The Continuing Logic of Dual
Containment’, Survival, spring 1998, vol. 40, no. 1, 33–47.
10 For an assessment of the Caspian oil situation see A. M. Jaffee and R. A. Manning,
256
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
Notes
‘The Myth of the Caspian “Great Game”: The Real Geopolitics of Energy’, Survival,
winter 1998–99, vol. 40, no. 4, 112–31.
For a review of the demographic and economic conditions in the Arab world after
1991, see E. Kanovsky, The Economic Consequences of the Persian Gulf War: Accelerating OPEC’s Demise, Policy Papers no. 30, Washington, DC: Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 1992; M. Faour, The Arab World After Desert Storm,
Washington, DC: US Institute for Peace Press, 1993, pp. 15–32; A. R. Abootalebi,
‘Middle East Economies: A Survey of Current Problems and Issues’, MERIA, September 1999, vol. 3, no. 3.
P. R. Kumaraswamy, India and Israel: Evolving Strategic Partnership, BESA Security and Policy Studies no. 40, Ramat Gan: BESA Center for Strategic Studies, BarIlan University, September 1998.
Rabin’s address when he presented his government, Knesset Minutes, 13 July 1992.
Speech by Yitzhak Rabin to graduates of the National Security College, 12 August
1993, Official Text, p. 3 (emphasis in original).
See Y. Shamir, Summing-Up (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Eidanim, 1994, pp. 271–2; M. Arens,
Broken Covenant (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Yediot Aharonot, 1995, pp. 193–235.
A. Baram, ‘Israeli Deterrence, Iraqi Responses’, Orbis, summer 1992, vol. 36, no. 3,
398–9.
E. Inbar and S. Sandler, ‘Israel’s Deterrence Strategy Revisited’, Security Studies,
winter 1993–94, vol. 3, no. 2, 330–58.
For UNSCOM’s performance, see S. Ritter, Endgame: Solving the Iraq Problem –
Once and for All, New York: Simon & Schuster, 1999; R. Butler, The Greatest
Threat: Iraq, Weapons of Mass Destruction, and the Growing Crisis of Global Security, New York: Public Affairs, 2000.
H. Ram, ‘Exporting Iran’s Islamic Revolution: Steering a Path between Pan-Islam
and Nationalism’, in B. Maddy-Weitzman and E. Inbar (eds) Religious Radicalism in
the Greater Middle East, London and Portland, OR: Frank Cass, 1997, pp. 7–24.
For an evaluation of the Iranian nuclear program, see M. Eisenstadt, ‘Living with a
Nuclear Iran?’ Survival, autumn 1999, vol. 41, no. 3, 124–48.
‘Interview with PM Rabin’, Bamahane, 23 September 1992, 9. See also S. A. Cohen,
‘Israel’s Changing Military Commitments, 1981–1991’, Journal of Strategic Studies,
September 1992, vol. 15, no. 3, 330–50.
See A. Nachmani, ‘The Remarkable Turkish–Israeli Tie’, Middle East Quarterly,
June 1988, vol. 15, no. 2, 19–30; N. Lochery, ‘Israel and Turkey: Deepening Ties
and Strategic Implications, 1995–98’, Israel Affairs, autumn 1998, vol. 5, no. 1,
45–62; E. Inbar, The Israeli–Turkish Entente, London: King’s College Mediterranean Studies, 2001.
For the greater assertiveness in Turkish foreign policy, see K. Kirisci, ‘The End of
the Cold War and Changes in Turkish Foreign Policy Behaviour’, Dis Politika, 1993,
vol. 18, nos 3–4, 1–43; For Turkey’s relations with the Middle East in the post-Cold
War era, see H. J. Barkey (ed.), Reluctant Neighbour: Turkey’s Role in the Middle
East, Washington, DC: US Institute for Peace Press, 1996.
E. Inbar, ‘The Strategic Glue in the Israeli–Turkish Alignment’, in B. Rubin and K.
Kirisci (eds) Turkey in World Politics. An Emerging Multiregional Power, Boulder,
CO: Lynne Rienner, 2001.
R. A. Hinnebusch, ‘Assad’s Syria and the New World Order: The Struggle for
Regime Survival’, Middle East Policy, 1993, vol. 2, no. 1, 1–14. For a review of the
Israeli–Syrian talks, see I. Rabinovich, The Brink of Peace: Israel and Syria,
1992–1996 (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Miskal, 1998.
For the Palestinian road to Oslo, see B. Rubin, Revolution until Victory? The Politics
and History of the PLO, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1994.
Interviews with Egyptian and Jordanian high officials. See also D. Pipes, ‘Assad Isn’t
Interested’, Jerusalem Post, 29 August 1999, 6.
Notes
257
28 For the tensions between the two countries, see F. A. Gerges, ‘Egyptian–Israeli Relations Turn Sour’, Foreign Affairs, May–June 1995, vol. 74, no. 3, 69–78.
29 U. Sagie, Lights Within the Fog (in Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Miskal, 1998, p. 172.
30 For an account and analysis of the ACRS talks, see B. W. Jentleson and D. D. Kaye,
‘Security Status: Explaining Regional Security Cooperation and Its Limits in the
Middle East’, Security Studies, autumn 1998, vol. 8, no. 1, 205–38.
31 Haaretz, 19 August 1999, A1. For the Egyptian chemical and biological weapons’
programs, see D. Shoham, ‘Chemical and Biological Weapons in Egypt’, NonProliferation Review, spring–summer 1998, vol. 5, no. 3.
32 Middle East News Line, 2 January 2001.
33 Interviews with senior IDF officers.
34 Sagie, Lights Within the Fog, pp. 17–18; for the 1999 similar evaluation, see Haaretz,
16 September 1999, A3.
35 E. Karsh, ‘The Rise and Fall of Syria’s Quest for Strategic Parity’, in Defence Yearbook, 1991, London: RUSI and Brassey’s, 1991, pp. 197–216.
36 For the poor state of the Syrian economy, see S. Plaut, ‘The Collapsing Syrian
Economy’, Middle East Quarterly, September 1999, vol. 6, no. 3, 3–14.
37 Jerusalem Post, 15 September 1999, 1.
38 For an analysis of the Palestinian armed forces, see G. Luft, The Palestinian Security
Services: Between Police and Army, Research Memorandum no. 36, Washington,
DC: Washington Institute, November 1998.
39 For the persistence of the old rules of the game in the Middle East, see M. Singer and
A. Wildavsky, The Real World Order: Zone of Peace/Zones of Turmoil, Chatham:
Chatham House, 1993; L. C. Brown, ‘The Middle East After the Cold War: Systemic
Change or More of the Same?’, in G. Downs (ed.) Collective Security Beyond the
Cold War, Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1994, pp. 197–216; E. Karsh,
‘Cold War, Post-Cold War: Does It Make A Difference for the Middle East?’, in
E. Inbar and G. Sheffer (eds) The National Security of Small States in a Changing
World, London and Portland, OR: Frank Cass, 1997, pp. 77–110.
40 See I. O. Lesser, B. R. Nardulli and L. A. Arghavan, ‘Sources of Conflict in the
Greater Middle East’, in Z. Khalilzad and I. O. Lesser (eds) Sources of Conflict in the
21st Century: Regional Futures and US Strategy, Santa Monica, CA: RAND, 1988,
pp. 171–229.
41 For Arab attitudes toward Turkish–Israeli relations, see O. Bengio and G. Ozgan,
‘Old Grievances, New Fears: Arab Perceptions of Turkey and Its Alignment with
Israel’, Middle Eastern Studies, April 2001, vol. 37, no. 2, 50–92; see also N. E. El
Shazly, ‘Arab Anger at New Axis’, The World Today, January 1999, vol. 55, no. 1,
25–7.
42 D. L. Byman and J. D. Green, ‘The Enigma of Political Stability in the Persian Gulf
Monarchies’, MERIA, September 1999, vol. 3, no. 3, 2.
43 A. Garfinkle, ‘Israel and Palestine: A Precarious Partnership’, Washington Quarterly,
summer 1997, vol. 20, no. 3, 3–22; E. Inbar and S. Sandler, ‘The Risks of Palestinian
Statehood’, Survival, summer 1997, vol. 27, no. 3, 23–41.
44 A. Levran, Israeli Strategy after Desert Storm: Lessons of the Second Gulf War,
London and Portland, OR: Frank Cass, 1997, pp. 125–33.
45 For an analysis of the military capabilities in the region, see A. H. Cordesman, Perilous Prospects: The Peace Process and the Arab–Military Balance, Boulder, CO:
Westview Press, 1996. See also S. Brom and Y. Shafir (eds), The Middle East Military Balance 1999–2000, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press for BCSIA Studies in International Security and Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies, 2000.
46 Inbar, Rabin and Israel’s National Security, p. 165.
47 Yediot Aharonot, 13 August 1999, 3.
258
Notes
8 Israeli negotiations with Syria
1 For Assad’s Weltanschauung and his fear of the United States, see P. Seale, Assad,
London, 1988.
2 Y. Olmert, Toward a Syrian-Israeli Peace Agreement, Research Memorandum 25,
Washington, DC, 1994.
3 E. Inbar, ‘Israel’, in A. Ayalon (ed.) The Middle East Contemporary Survey 1992,
Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1995, pp. 499–514.
4 For Labour’s positions on the Palestinian issue, see E. Inbar, War and Peace in
Israeli Politics, Labour Party Positions on National Security, Boulder, CO: Lynne
Reiner, 1991.
5 Ibid., pp. 86–7, 93–4.
6 Haaretz, 10 September 1992.
7 Yediot Aharonot, 2 December 1992.
8 A. Ben, ‘All Started with a Dinner at Djerejian’, Haaretz, 19 September 1994.
9 Haaretz, 16 November 1993; 20 January 1994.
10 Maariv, 22 April 1994.
11 New York Times, 18 May 1994.
12 Haaretz, 15 July 1994.
13 Haaretz, 28 July 1994.
14 Haaretz, 31 October 1994.
15 Haaretz, 11 December 1994.
16 A poll conducted by Modiin Ezrahi at the end of November 1994 for the BESA
Center for Strategic Studies (part of a multi-year project on Public Opinion and
National Security) showed that 64.4 percent opposed a total withdrawal from the
Golan in the context of a peace treaty with Syria, with only 23.2 percent supportive of
such an arrangement. Stationing American troops on the Golan in the context of an
Israeli withdrawal and an Israeli–Syrian peace treaty is even less popular: almost
70 percent of Israelis oppose it. See Maariv, 7 December 1994.
17 E. Inbar, ‘Contours of Israeli New Strategic Thinking’, Political Science Quarterly,
1996, vol. 111, no. 1, 41–64.
18 See, inter alia, Shimon Peres in Haaretz, 30 January and 23 September 1994. See
also a Peace Now advertisement in Haaretz, 19 September 1994.
19 Haaretz, 10 October 1994.
20 For the persistence of the old rules of the game in the Middle East see M. Singer and
A. Wildavsky, The Real World Order, London: Chatham House, 1993; L. Carl
Brown, ‘The Middle East after the Cold War and the Gulf War: Systemic Change or
More of the Same?’, in G. Downs (ed.) Collective Security Beyond the Cold War,
Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1994.
21 See B. Korany, P. Noble and R. Brynen (eds), The Many Faces of National Security
in the Arab World, London: Palgrave Macmillan, 1993.
22 For Assad’s statements, see, for example, Haaretz, 2 December 1994.
23 E. Zisser, ‘Assad Inches Toward Peace’, Middle East Quarterly, September 1994,
vol. 1, 37–44. See also his ‘Syria and Israel: Toward a Change?’, in E. Inbar (ed.)
Regional Security Regimes, Israel and Its Neighbors, New York: Albany, 1995.
24 E. Karsh, Soviet Policy Towards Syria Since 1970, London: Frank Cass, 1991, pp.
17–19. See also M. Zuhair Diab, ‘The Prospects of Peace Between Israel and Syria: A
Syrian View’, in E. Karsh and G. Mahler (eds) Israel at the Crossroads, London: I.
B. Tauris, 1994, ch. 8.
25 A. Perlmutter, Modern Authoritarianism, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1981.
26 See E. Kanovsky, “Middle East Economies and Arab–Israeli Peace Agreements’,
Israel Affairs, summer 1995, vol. 4, no. 1, as well as B. Zilberfarb, ‘The Effects of the
Peace Process on the Israeli Economy’, Israel Affairs, autumn 1994, vol. 111, no. 1,
84–95.
Notes
259
27 Haaretz, 30 January 1994; see also M. Muslih, ‘Dateline Damascus: Assad Is Ready’,
Foreign Policy, fall 1994, vol. 96, 152.
9 Islamic extremism and the peace process
1 For studies of radical Islam, see, inter alia, E. Sivan, Radical Islam: Medieval Theology and Modern Politics, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1985; D. Menashri
(ed.) The Iranian Revolution and the Muslim World, Boulder, CO: Westview Press,
1990; J. Piscatori (ed.) Islamic Fundamentalism and the Gulf Crisis, Chicago, IL:
American Academy of Arts and Sciences, 1991; Z. Abu-Amr, Islamic Fundamentalism in the West Bank and Gaza, Bloomington: Indiana Univeristy Press, 1994; G.
Ben-Dor, ‘The Uniqueness of Islamic Fundamentalism’, in B. Maddy-Weitzman and
E. Inbar (eds) Religious Radicalism in the Greater Middle East, London: Frank Cass,
1996, pp. 239–52. The notions ‘Islamic radicalism’ and ‘extremism’ refer to the
nature of the goals and the means of the political entities discussed in this chapter and
are used interchangeably. Fundamentalism refers primarily to theological issues and
is beyond the scope of this chapter.
2 P. W. Rodman, ‘Co-opt or Confront Fundamentalist Islam’, Middle East Quarterly,
December 1994, vol. 1, no. 4, 64.
3 R. Israeli, Fundamentalist Islam and Israel, Lanham: University Press of America,
1993.
4 R. Israeli, ‘The Charter of Allah: The Platform of the Islamic Resistance Movement,
Hamas’, Israel Affairs, autumn 1995, vol. 2, no. 1, 273–93.
5 The Koran Interpreted, trans. A. J. Arberry, New York: Macmillan, 1979, p. 36; see
also M. Maoz, The Image of the Jew in Official Arab Literature and Communications
Media, Jerusalem: Shazar Library, 1976, p. 9.
6 Maoz, The Image of the Jew in Official Arab Literature and Communications Media
(note 5), pp. 9–10.
7 E. Webman, Anti-Semitic Motifs in the Ideology of Hizballah and Hamas,
Tel Aviv: The Project for the Study of Anti-Semitism, Tel Aviv University, 1994,
pp. 18–19.
8 M. Kramer, ‘The Jihad Against the Jews’, Commentary, October 1994. For Hizballah, see E. Zisser, ‘Hizballah in Lebanon – At the Crossroads’, in B. MaddyWeitzman and E. Inbar (eds) Religious Radicalism in the Greater Middle East,
pp. 90–110.
9 For the Muslim historical and psychological perception of the West, see G. E. Fuller
and I. O. Lesser, A Sense of Siege: The Geopolitics of Islam and the West, Boulder,
CO: Westview Press/A Rand Study, 1995, pp. 27–80.
10 O. D. Mannoni, Prospero and Caliban: The Psychology of Colonization, New York:
Praeger, 1964.
11 B. Lewis, ‘The Roots of Muslim Rage’, The Atlantic, September 1990, 47–60.
12 Ibid., 56.
13 For a recent treatment of the rules of the game in the Middle East, see Y. Evron, ‘Gulf
Crisis and War: Regional Rules of the Game and Policy and Theoretical Implications’, Security Studies, autumn 1994, vol. 4, no. 1, 115–52.
14 Y. Harkabi, Fedayeen Action and Arab Strategy, Adelphi Paper no. 53, London: IISS,
1969.
15 Haaretz, 13 September 1994, A7.
16 al-Quds, 26 July 1994.
17 The Middle East, February 1992, 13.
18 G. Bechor, ‘The Voices of Allah’, Haaretz, 26 October 1994, B2.
19 al-Quds, 8 June 1994.
20 al-Quds, 24 April 1994.
21 For their order of battle see the recent volumes of Military Balance, London: IISS.
260
Notes
22 See H. Ram, ‘Exporting Iran’s Islamic Revolution: Steering a Path between PanIslam and Nationalism’, in B. Maddy-Weitzman and E. Inbar (eds) Religious Radicalism in the Greater Middle East, pp. 7–24.
23 Haaretz, 6 January 1995, A1. For the Iranian motivations, see S. Chubin, ‘Does Iran
Want Nuclear Weapons?’, Survival, spring 1995, vol. 37, no. 1, 86–104.
24 For the weaknesses of the NPT, see G. Steinberg, ‘Arms Control in the Middle East:
Global Regimes vs. Regional Dynamics’, in E. Inbar (ed.) Regional Security
Regimes: Israel and Its Neighbors, Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1995, pp. 175–97.
25 E. Inbar, ‘The Nuclear Mirage in the Middle East’, Midstream, March 1981, vol. 27,
no. 3, 3–6; Y. Evron, Israel’s Nuclear Dilemma, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University
Press, 1994.
26 Egypt tried to force the issue by insisting on an Israeli adherence to the NPT, before
its extension, instead of waiting for the establishment of a regional structure. For the
chances of establishing such a regional security arrangement, see E. Inbar and
S. Sandler, ‘The International Politics of a Middle Eastern Arms Control Regime’, in
E. Inbar and S. Sandler (eds) Middle Eastern Security: Prospects for an Arms Control
Regime, London: Frank Cass, 1995, pp. 173–5.
27 For their terrorist activities, see A. Kurtz et al. (eds) Islamic Terror and Israel
(Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Papyrus and JCSS, Tel Aviv University, 1993; M. Burkin, ‘Terrorist Activity from Lebanon and the Threat to Northern Israel’, in The Middle East
Military Balance 1993–1994, Boulder, CO: Westview Press for the Jaffee Center for
Strategic Studies, 1994, pp. 131–47.
28 M. Litvak, ‘The Hamas Movement: A Different Palestinian Identity’, in D. Menashri
(ed.) Islamic Fundamentalism: A Challenge to Regional Stability, Tel Aviv: Dayan
Center, Tel Aviv University, 1993 p. 68.
29 Haaretz, 1 November 1994, A3.
30 E. Rabin, ‘We Have Played This Game Several Times’, Haaretz, 12 July 1993;
R. Ben-Yishai, ‘Lebanon: Why Does Israeli Government Show Restraint?’, Yediot
Aharonot, 12 August 1994. For the general Israeli reluctance to use force because of
the peace process, see E. Inbar and S. Sandler, ‘Israel’s Deterrence Strategy Revisited’, Security Studies, winter 1993/94, vol. 3, no. 2, 346–8.
31 See, inter alia, B. Rubin, Islamic Fundamentalism in Egyptian Politics, New York:
St. Martin’s Press, 1990; E. Podeh, ‘The Struggle of the Egyptian Regime against the
Islamic Challenge’, Maarachot (Hebrew), June 1994, vol. 36, no. 4, 40–8; and his
‘Egypt’s Struggle against the Militant Islamic Groups’, in B. Maddy-Weitzman and
E. Inbar (eds) Religious Radicalism in the Greater Middle East, pp. 43–61.
32 For their political program and anti-Western attitudes, see the interview with the
Secretary-General of the party, O. Asilturk, Turkish Daily News, 22 November 1994,
Section Two, l; see also A. Lapidot, ‘Islamic Activism in Turkey Since the 1980 Military Takeover’, in B. Maddy-Weitzman and E. Inbar (eds) Religious Radicalism in
the Greater Middle East, pp. 62–74.
33 L. Tal, ‘Dealing with Radical Islam: The Case of Jordan’, Survival, autumn 1995, vol.
37, no. 3, 139–56; See also G. Kramer, ‘The Integration of the Integrists: A Comparative Study of Egypt, Jordan and Tunisia’, in G. Salame (ed.) Democracy Without
Democrats?, London: I. B. Tauris, 1994, pp. 200–26.
34 Bechor, ‘The Voices of Allah’.
35 For the relations between the PA and Hamas, see M. Klein, ‘Competing Brothers:
The Web of Hamas–PLO Relations’, in B. Maddy-Weitzman and E. Inbar (eds) Religious Radicalism in the Greater Middle East, pp. 111–32.
36 There are great difficulties in polling Palestinians. According to the poll results of the
Center for Palestine Research and Studies (Nablus) released on 31 May 1994, support
for Islamic groups in Gaza is approximately 20 percent.
37 Arafat allowed Hamas to open an information office and to publish a magazine, and
released many Hamas activists from prison. See Haaretz, 29 January 1996, A5.
Notes
261
38 Haaretz, 28 October 1994, A3.
39 E. Kanovsky, Assessing the Mideast Peace Economic Dividend, BESA Mideast Security
and Policy Studies no. 15, Ramat Gan: BESA Center for Strategic Studies, 1994.
40 Z. Schiff, ‘After Nezarim’, Haaretz, 15 November 1994, B1.
41 For the continuum in Israeli attitudes on national security and the Arab–Israeli conflict, see E. Inbar and G. Goldberg, ‘Is Israel’s Elite Becoming More Hawkish?’,
International Journal, summer 1990, vol. 45, no. 3, 632–5; E. Inbar, War and Peace
in Israeli Politics, Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 1991.
42 S. Peres with A. Naor, The New Middle East, New York: Henry Colt, 1993, p. 46.
43 For reduced threat perception and other components of the new Israeli strategic thinking, see E. Inbar, ‘Contours of New Israeli Strategic Thinking’, Political Science
Quarterly, spring 1996, vol. 111, no. 1, 41–65.
44 For this term see M. Singer and A. Wildavsky, The Real World Order: Zones of
Peace/Zones of Turmoil, Chatham, NJ: Chatham House, 1993. For Benjamin
Netanyahu’s view, see his A Place Among the Nations (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Yediot
Aharonot, 1995.
45 Kanovsky, Assessing the Mideast Peace Economic Dividend.
46 For the relations between economic ideas and international relations, see R. Gilpin,
‘Three Models of Future’, International Organization, winter 1975, vol. 29, no. 1,
37–63.
47 B. Kimmerling, The Interrupted System, New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction, 1985.
48 G. Goldberg, G. Barzilai and E. Inbar, The Impact of Intercommunal Conflict: The
Intifada and the Israeli Public Opinion, Policy Studies no. 43, Jerusalem: The
Leonard Davis Institute for International Relations, The Hebrew University 1991;
A. Arian, Security Threatened: Surveying Israeli Opinion on Peace and War, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press and the Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies, Tel
Aviv University, 1995.
49 Haaretz, 30 September 1994, A3. For the Syrian track, see E. Inbar, ‘Israeli Negotiations with Syria’, Israel Affairs, summer 1995, vol. 1, no. 4, 89–100.
50 See the poll results in Maariv, 6 January 1995, l; Yediot Aharonot, 10 March 1995, l.
51 The analysis of the elections is beyond the scope of this chapter. Netanayahu’s razorthin victory is primarily related to more effective campaigning and organization, and
to a better ability to capture the center of the Israeli political map than Labour.
52 E. Inbar and S. Sandler, ‘The Changing Israeli Security Equation: Toward a Security
Regime’, Review of International Studies, January 1995, vol. 21, no. 1, 41–59.
53 See Inbar and Sandler, ‘Israel’s Deterrence Strategy Revisited’, 342–3; G. Ben-Dor,
‘Arab Rationality and Deterrence’, in Aharon Klieman and Ariel Levite (eds) Deterrence in the Middle East, JCSS Study no. 22, Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993,
p. 97; A. Garfinkle, ‘An Observation on Arab Culture and Deterrence: Metaphors and
Misgivings’, in Inbar, Regional Security Regimes, pp. 201–29.
10 Arab–Israeli coexistence: causes, achievements and limitations
1 For the process of Egyptian reintegration within the Arab regional system, see A. E.
Hillal Dessouki, ‘Egyptian Foreign Policy Since Camp David’, in W. B. Quandt (ed.)
The Middle East: Ten Years After Camp David, Washington, DC: The Brookings
Institute, 1988, pp. 102–5.
2 See S. Shamir, ‘Arab Military Lessons from the October War’, in L. Williams (ed.)
Military Aspects of the Israeli–Arab Conflict, Tel Aviv: University Publishing Projects, 1975, p. 175; B. Lewis, ‘Settling the Arab–Israeli Conflict’, Commentary, June
1977, vol. 63, 53.
3 For Arab perceptions, see A. E. Levite and E. B. Landau, Israel’s Nuclear Image:
Arab Perceptions of Israel’s Nuclear Posture (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University, 1994.
262
Notes
4 See, inter alia, N. E. El Shazli, ‘Arab Anger at New Axis’, World Today, January
1999, vol. 55, no. 1, 25–7.
5 F. Ajami, ‘The End of Pan-Arabism’, Foreign Affairs, winter 1978–79, vol. 57, no. 2,
355–73; R. Owen, State, Power and Politics in the Making of the Modern Middle
East, London: Routledge, 1992; G. Ben-Dor, State and Conflict in the Middle East,
New York: Praeger, 1983.
6 R. S. Humphrey, Between Memory and Desire: The Middle East in a Troubled Age,
Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999, p. 81.
7 A. Sela, The Decline of the Arab–Israeli Conflict: Middle East Politics and the Quest
for Regional Order, Albany; SUNY Press, 1988.
8 M. N. Barnett, Dialogues in Arab Politics: Negotiations in Regional Order, New
York: Columbia University Press, 1998, p. 198.
9 H. Cobban, ‘The PLO and the Intifada’, in R. O. Freedman (ed.) The Intifada, Miami:
Florida International University Press, 1991, pp. 70–106.
10 For the PLO’s long road to Oslo, see B. Rubin, Revolution Until Victory: The Politics
and History of the PLO, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1994.
11 P. C. Noble, ‘The Arab System: Pressures, Constraints, and Opportunities’, in B.
Korani and A. E. Hillal Dessouki (eds) The Foreign Policies of Arab States: The
Challenge of Change, Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1991, pp. 81–2.
12 The most comprehensive work on Israeli–Jordanian relations is M. Zak, Hussein
Makes Peace (Hebrew), Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1996.
13 E. Inbar, Outcast Countries in the World Community, Denver: University of Denver,
1985.
14 For a review of the demographic and economic conditions in the Arab world after
1991, see E. Kanovsky, The Economic Consequences of the Persian Gulf War: Accelerating OPEC’s Demise, Policy Papers no. 30, Washington, DC: Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 1992; and Muhammad Faour, The Arab World After Desert
Storm, Washington, DC: US Institute for Peace Process, 1993, pp. 15–32.
15 R. A. Hinnebusch, ‘Assad’s Syria and the New World Order: The Struggle For
Regime Survival’, Middle East Policy, 1993, vol. 2, no. 1, 1–14.
16 Interviews with Egyptian and Jordanian high officials. See also D. Pipes, ‘Assad Isn’t
Interested’, Jerusalem Post, 29 August 1999, 6.
17 For a review of the Israeli–Syrian talks, see I. Rabinovich, The Brink of Peace: Israel
and Syria, 1992–1996 (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Miskal, 1998.
18 Foreign Minister Ehud Barak’s speech in the Knesset, 25 December 1995 (Israel
Information Service Gopher). This is the formula he has used ever since.
19 For the persistence of the old rules of the game in the Middle East, see M. Singer and
A. Wildavsky, The Real World Order: Zone of Peace/Zones of Turmoil, Chatham,
NJ: Chatham House, 1993; L. C. Brown, ‘The Middle East After the Cold War: Systemic Change or More of the Same?’, in G. Downs (ed.) Collective Security Beyond
the Cold War, Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1994, pp. 197–216;
E. Karsh, ‘Cold War, Post-Cold War: Does It Make A Difference for the Middle
East?’, in E. Inbar and G. Sheffer (eds) The National Security of Small States in a
Changing World, London: Frank Cass, 1997, pp. 77–106.
20 Maariv, Shabbat Supplement, 1 September 1995, 3.
21 D. C. Byman and J. D. Green, ‘The Enigma of Political Stability in the Persian Gulf
Monarchies’, MERIA, September 1999, vol. 3, no. 3.
22 E. Inbar and S. Sandler, ‘The Risks of Palestinian Statehood’, Survival, summer 1997,
vol. 37, no. 2, 23–41.
23 For the tensions between the two countries, see F. A. Gerges, ‘Egyptian–Israeli Relations Turn Sour’, Foreign Affairs, May–June 1995, vol. 74, no. 3, 69–78.
24 For an analysis of the military capabilities in the region, see A. H. Cordesman, Perilous Prospects: The Peace Process and the Arab–Military Balance, Boulder, CO:
Westview Press, 1996.
Notes
263
25 See H. Khashan, ‘Polling Arab Views on the Conflict with Israel’, Middle East Quarterly, June 1995, vol. 2, no. 2, 3–13.
26 Barnett, Dialogues in Arab Politics, pp. 44–5.
27 See E. Bronner, ‘Israel’s History Textbooks Replace Myths with Facts’, New York
Times, 14 August 1999, Al, 5.
28 See, inter alia, Emmanuel Sivan, Radical Islam: Medieval Theology and Modern
Politics, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1985; G. E. Fuller and I. O. Lesser,
A Sense of Siege: The Geopolitics of Islam and the West, Boulder, CO: Westview
Press, 1995.
11 Israel’s new strategic partner: Turkey
1 K. Karpat, Turkey’s Foreign Policy in Transition, Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1975,
pp. 108–11; S. Özel, ‘Of Not Being a Lone Wolf: Geography, Domestic Plays,
and Turkish Foreign Policy in the Middle East’, in G. Kemp and J. G. Stein (eds)
Powder Keg in the Middle East, Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 1995,
pp. 161–94.
2 See, inter alia, Ş. Elekdağ, ‘2.5 War Strategy’, Perceptions, March–May 1996;
Ş. Ergüvenç, ‘Turkey’s Security Perceptions’, Perceptions, June–August 1998;
M. Mufti, ‘Daring and Caution in Turkish Foreign Policy’, Middle East Journal,
winter 1998, 33–41.
3 Mufti, ‘Daring and Caution in Turkish Foreign Policy’, 32–50; A. Makovsky, ‘The
New Activism in Turkish Foreign Policy’, SAIS Review, winter–spring 1999, 92–113.
4 Turkish Probe, 10 May 1998, 15.
5 A. L. Karaosmanoğlu, ‘Turkey: Between the Middle East and Western Europe’, in
K. H. Karpat, (ed.) Turkish Foreign Policy, Madison: University of Wisconsin Press,
1996, p. 14.
6 S. Taşhan, ‘A Review of Turkish Foreign Policy in the Beginning of 1998’, Diş Politika, 1998 vol. 22, nos 1–3, 22.
7 Interview with Barlas Özener, ambassador of Turkey to Israel (1995–99), 24 August
1998.
8 Interviews with Turkish senior officers.
9 Interview with Özener.
10 Interview with Uri Gordon, Israel’s chargé d’affaires (1990–92) and ambassador to
Ankara (1992–94), 6 May 1998; interview with Eytan Bentsur, Director-General of
Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 13 February 2000.
11 A. Lewin, ‘Turkey and Israel: Reciprocal and Mutual Imagery in the Media,
1994–1999’, Journal of International Affairs, fall 2000, 239–51.
12 Interview with Maj. Gen. (ret.) David Ivry, National Security Advisor, 30 November
1999.
13 Haaretz, April 1996.
14 Jane’s Defence Weekly, 3 July 1996, 40.
15 Ergüvenç, ‘Turkey’s Security Perceptions’, 41.
16 Defense News, 5–11 January 1998, 2.
17 ‘Turkey, Israel, Tanks and Spies’, Foreign Report, 10 February 1998.
18 Defense News, 21 August 2000, 18.
19 Turkish Daily News, 4 December 1997.
20 Defense News, 20–26 October 1997, 14.
21 Jerusalem Post, 18 January 2001, 2.
22 E. Inbar, ‘Contours of Israel’s New Strategic Thinking’, Political Science Quarterly,
spring 1996, 42–45; A. Hashim, ‘The State, Society and the Evolution of Warfare in
the Middle East: The Rise of Strategic Deterrence?’, Washington Quarterly, autumn
1995, 54–5; A. L. Karaosmanoğlu, ‘The Evolution of the National Security Culture in
Turkey’, Journal of International Affairs, fall 2000, 199–201.
264
Notes
23 Y. Evron, ‘Gulf Crisis and War: Regional Rules of the Game and Policy and Theoretical Implications’, Security Studies, autumn 1994, 125.
24 M. N. Barnett, Dialogues in Arab Politics: Negotiations in Regional Order, New
York: Columbia University Press, 1998, pp. 229–31.
25 Newspot, 18 November 1993.
26 Newsweek, 11 August 1997.
27 Turkish Daily News, 3 September 1998.
28 Near East Report, 26 January 1998, 6.
29 Ç. Bir, ‘Reflections on Turkish–Israeli Relations and Turkish Security’, Policywatch,
422, 5 November 1999, 1.
30 Interview with Cypriot officials. Turkish planes that trained in Israel were suspected
of exercises that simulated attacking SAM sites. In November 1998, two Israeli
Mossad agents were caught with surveillance equipment in Cyprus, fueling rumors
about Israeli assistance to Turkey.
31 For such a rationale in creating alliances, see R. L. Schweller, ‘Bandwagoning
for Profit: Bringing the Revisionist State Back In’, International Security, summer
1994, 79; balancing threats as the main reason for alliance formation was suggested
by S. M. Walt, The Origins of Alliances, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press,
1987.
32 (18 November 1996) Available online at: www.turkey.org/speeches/atlanta.htm.
33 Bir, ‘Reflections on Turkish–Israeli Relations’, 1.
34 Turkish Daily News, 5 June 1996, A4.
35 Inbar, ‘Contours of Israel’s New Strategic Thinking’, 47.
36 Yediot Aharonot, 13 August 1999, 3.
37 Turkish Daily News, 4 May 1997, 2.
38 Milliyet, 18 February 1996.
39 Milliyet, 23 September 1996.
40 Haaretz, 13 June 2000, A3.
41 For this chapter in Israeli–Syrian relations, see I. Rabinovitch, The Brink of Peace:
Israeli–Syrian Negotiations, Princeton, NU: Princeton University Press, 1998.
42 K. Kirişci, ‘Turkey and the Muslim Middle East’, in A. Makovsky and S. Sayari (eds)
Turkey’s New World: Changing Dynamics in Turkish Foreign Policy, Washington,
DC: Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 2000, p. 47.
43 Turkish Daily News, 21 February 1997, l.
44 M. Heper and A. Güney, ‘The Military and the Consolidation of Democracy: The
Recent Turkish Experience’, Armed Forces and Society, summer 2000, 640.
45 E. Inbar, Rabin and Israel’s National Security, Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999, pp. 138–9.
46 Interviews with senior officials.
47 D. B. Sezer, ‘Turkey’s New Security Environment, Nuclear Weapons and Proliferation’, Comparative Strategy, April–June 1995, 149–72.
48 Turkish Daily News, 4 May 1997, 2.
49 I. O. Lesser, NATO Looks South: New Challenges and New Strategies in the Mediterranean, Santa Monica: RAND, 2000, p. 31.
50 B. Aras, ‘Post-Cold War Realities: Israel’s Strategy in Azerbaijan and Central Asia’,
Middle East Policy, vol. 5, no. 4, 69.
51 Elekdağ, ‘2.5 War Strategy’.
52 Turkish Daily News, 29 July 1999.
53 D. B. Sezer, ‘Turkish–Russian Relations a Decade Later: From Adversity to Managed
Competition’, Perceptions, March–May 2001, 79-98.
Notes
265
12 The Indian–Israeli entente
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
Israel’s first premier, David Ben-Gurion, developed the periphery doctrine. For its
implementation, see A. S. Klieman, Israel and the World After 40 Years, Washington:
Pergamon Brassey’s, 1990, pp. 92, 168–9, 236.
Y. Shimoni, ‘India: The Years of Estrangement’, in M. Yager, Y. Govrin and A.
Oded (eds) Ministry for Foreign Affairs: The First Fifty Years (Hebrew), Jerusalem:
Keter, 2002, pp. 539–40.
M. Yager, ‘Fundamental Factors in Asia–Israel Relations’, in Yager, Govrin and
Oded (eds) Ministry for Foreign Affairs, p. 534; G. Bachar, ‘The Normalization in
Indian–Israel Relations’, ibid., p. 543.
M. Yager, ‘How Was Normalization Achieved in Indo–Israeli Relations?’, Nativ
(Hebrew), January 2003, 1–11; Bachar, ‘The Normalization in Indian–Israel Relations’, 543–49.
P. R. Kumaraswami, ‘India–Israel: Emerging Partnership’, Journal of Strategic
Studies, December 2002, 198.
P. R. Kumaraswami, Israel and India. Evolving Strategic Partnership, Mideast
Security and Policy Studies no. 40, Ramat Gan: Begin-Sadat Center for Strategic
Studies, September 1998.
A. Waldman, ‘The Bond between India and Israel Grows’, New York Times, 9
September 2003.
S. P. Cohen and S. Ganguly, ‘India’, in R. Chase, E. Hill and P. Kennedy (eds) The
Pivotal States. A New Framework for US Policy in the Developing World, New York:
Norton, 1999, pp. 50–1.
K. Shankar Bajpai, ‘Untangling India and Pakistan’, Foreign Affairs, May–June
2003, 114.
Ibid., 125.
See P. R. Kumaraswami, Beyond the Veil: Israel–Pakistan Relations, JCSS Memorandum no. 55, Tel Aviv: Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies, 2000.
R. Dutta, ‘India, Israel Have Big Plans’, The Pioneer, New Delhi, 21 January 2003.
‘Israeli Company Targets Arms Sales to India’, Press Trust of India (PTI), BBC
Monitoring South Asia, New Delhi, 5 February 2003.
V. Raghuvanshi, ‘India Relies on Israel for UAV Needs’, Defense News, 24 February
2003.
V. Raghuvanshi, ‘India Imports Naval Missile Defences’, Defense News, 23 May 2003.
V. Raghuvanshi, ‘India’s Military Seeks $1.5 Billion in Radar Gear’, Defense News,
20 June 2003.
V. Raghuvanshi, ‘India Eyes Pakistan Providers’, Defense News, 12 May 2003.
B. Opall-Rome, ‘Israel, Russia Establish Intellectual Property Deal’, Defense News,
17 March 2003.
V. Raghuvanshi, ‘India’s Ordnance Board Looks Overseas’, Defense News, 26 May
2003; and his ‘India Strives for Missile-Building Hub’, Defense News, 24 February
2003.
‘IAI, Indian Firm Start Venture’, Defense News, 17 February 2003.
Statesman (New Delhi), 28 February 1992, quoted in Kumaraswamy, Israel and
India; remarks of Maj. Gen. Uzi Dayan, National Security Advisor, in A. Navon,
‘The Indian Knot’, Maariv, Weekend Magazine, 20 September 2002.
V. Raghuvanshi, ‘India to Create Strike Force’, Defense News, 12 May 2003.
‘India, Israel Defense Ties to Get a Boost’, PTI, Hindustan Times, 22 May 2003.
B. Opall-Rome, ‘Israel Seeks Partners for Military Space’, Defense News, 18 August
2003.
‘India Acquires Green Pine Radars from Israel’, Times of India, 28 June 2002.
For a balanced appraisal, see S. P. Cohen, ‘The Jihadist Threat to Pakistan’, Washington Quarterly, summer 2003, 7–26.
266
Notes
27 Z. Schiff, ‘The Discovery of the Shehab-3’, Haaretz, 23 July 2003.
28 For an exposition of Saudi mischief, see D. Gold, Hatred’s Kingdom: How Saudi
Arabia Supports the New Global Terrorism, New York: Regnery Publishing, 2003.
29 ‘Interview with PM Rabin’, Bamahane, 23 September 1992. See also S. A. Cohen,
‘Israel’s Changing Military Commitments, 1981–1991’, Journal of Strategic Studies,
September 1992, 330–50.
30 For an evaluation of the Iranian nuclear program, see M. Eisenstadt, ‘Living with a
Nuclear Iran?’, Survival, autumn 1999, 124–48, and more recently, D. Frantz,
‘Iran Closes in Ability to Build a Nuclear Bomb’, Los Angeles Times, 4 August
2003.
31 B. Opall-Rome, ‘Israel Expands Refueling Options’, Defense News, 12 May 2003.
32 ‘India Assisting Israeli Navy’, Times of India (online version), 17 June 2002.
33 See Maj. Gen. (ret.) S. Erel, ‘The Sea as Strategic Depth’, Maarachot, April 2003,
46–9; and Z. Almog, ‘Strategic Depth Must Be Sought in the Sea’, Haaretz, 26
June 2003.
34 Lecture at the Begin-Sadat (BESA) Center for Strategic Studies, Bar-Ilan University,
24 April 2002. The Ghauri, developed in the 1990s with Chinese help, has a range of
up to 1,500 km and can be tipped with a nuclear warhead. In 1998 Pakistan carried
out a successful flight test of the Ghauri, and Islamabad is working on longer-range
models of the missile.
35 ‘Musharraf Calls for a Debate on Relations with Israel’, Haaretz, 30 June 2003.
36 Cohen and Ganguly, ‘India’, in Chase, Hill and Kennedy (eds) The Pivotal States, p. 40.
37 O. Oliker, ‘Conflict in Central Asia and South Caucasus’, in O. Oliker and T. S.
Szayna (eds) Faultlines of Conflict in Central Asia and the South Caucasus, Santa
Monica, CA: RAND, 2003, pp. 225–6. See also M. S. Roy, ‘India’s Interests in
Central Asia’, Strategic Analysis, March 2001, 2273–89.
38 Cohen and Ganguly, ‘India’, 54. For recent analyses of US–Indo relations, see T. C.
Shaffer, ‘Building a New Partnership with India’, Washington Quarterly, spring
2002, 31–44; and R. M. Hathaway, ‘The US–India Courtship’, Journal of Strategic
Studies, December 2002, 6–31.
39 See L. Ramer, ‘Pro-Israel Activists Seeking Allies Among Immigrants from India’,
Forward, 11 October 2002; and A. Cooperman, ‘India, Israel Interests Team Up’,
Washington Post, 19 July 2003.
40 ‘India’s Top Security Official Moots India–US–Israel Anti-terror Axis’, New Delhi
(AFP), 10 May 2003.
13 Israel’s Palestinian challenge
1 E. Inbar, ‘Israel’s Strategic Environment in the 1990s’, Journal of Strategic Studies,
March 2002, vol. 25, no. 1, 21–38.
2 E. Inbar, ‘Arab–Israeli Coexistence: Causes, Achievements and Limitations’, Israel
Affairs, summer 2000, vol. 6, nos 3–4, 256–70.
3 See D. Tschirgi, ‘Palestine 2003: The Perils of De Facto Statehood’, in T. Bahcheli,
B. Bartmann and H. Srebnik (eds) De Facto States. The Quest for Sovereignty,
London: Routledge, 2004, pp. 187–209.
4 For misguided Israeli policies during the Oslo process and the Israeli psyche, see
E. Karsh, Arafat’s War: The Man and his Battle for Israeli Conquest, New York:
Grove Press, 2003; and K. Levin, The Oslo Syndrome: Delusions of People Under
Siege, Hanover, NH: Smith & Krauss Publishing, 2005. For an analysis of the peace
process from Oslo to the Camp David Summit, see D. Ross, The Missing Peace, New
York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2004.
5 For an insightful analysis of the Palestinian leader, see B. Rubin and J. C. Rubin,
Yasser Arafat: A Political Biography, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003.
6 For a daily documentation of the disregard of law and order in the Palestinian
Notes
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
267
territories, see the website of the Palestinian Centre for Human Rights, www.
pchrgaza.org.
For an analysis of this phenomenon, see R. I. Rothberg (ed.), When States Fail:
Causes and Consequences, Princeton, NJ: Princeton Univeristy Press, 2004. Interestingly, the writings on ‘failed states’ fail to include the PA in such a category. See
‘Europe and the Middle East: Collapsed, Failed, Failing, and Weak States, 2003’, in
R. I. Rotberg (ed.) When States Fail; ‘Development Effectiveness in Fragile States’,
p. 48. Available online at: www.oecd.org/department/0,2688,en_2649_33693550_
1_1_1_1_1,00.html.
For more on this organization, see S. Mishal and A. Sela, The Palestinian Hamas:
Vision, Violence and Coexistence, New York: Columbia University Press, 2000. For
its post-election strategy, see E. Yaari, ‘Inside the Hamas Strategy. Fight Delay’, The
New Republic Online, 13 February 2006. On the phenomenon of religious violence,
see M. Juergensmeyer, Terror in the Mind of God: The Global Rise in Religious Violence, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of Callifornia Press, 2003.
This term describing the goal of destroying the Jewish state was coined by Yehoshafat
Harkabi. See his Fedayeen Action and Arab Strategy, Adelphi Paper no. 53, London,
1969, p. 1.
See inter alia. Available online at: www.pmw.org.il/Latest%20bulletins%20
new.htm#b230306; ‘The Forked Tongue of Hamas: How It Speaks Differently to
Western and Arab Media’, IMRA. Available online at: www.imra.org.il (accessed 11
April 2006).
See Y. Sayigh, Armed Struggle and the Search for State: The Palestinian National
Movement, 1949–93, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997; A. N. Kurz, Fatah and
the Politics of Violence, Brighton: Sussex Academic Press, 2005; M. Hatina, ‘The
“Ulama” and the Cult of Death in Palestine’, Israel Affairs, January 2006, vol. 12, no. 1,
29–51.
For asymmetric strategy, see I. Arreguin-Toft, ‘How the Weak Win Wars: The
Theory of Asymmetric Conflict’, International Security, summer 2001, vol. 26, no. 1,
93–128.
For an early study of the attempts to isolate Israel, see E. Inbar, Outcast Countries in
the World Community, Monograph Series in World Affairs, Denver: University of
Denver Press, 1985.
See G. Steinberg, ‘Soft Powers Play Hardball: NGOs Wage War Against Israel’,
Israel Affairs, October 2006, vol. 12; and E. Gilboa, ‘Public Diplomacy: The Missing
Component in Israel’s Foreign Policy’, Israel Affairs, October 2006, vol. 12, no. 4.
According to a poll conducted in March 2006, 59 percent of Palestinians believe
Hamas should not recognize Israel. See PSR Poll no. 19, 16–18 March 2006, Palestinian Centre for Policy and Survey Research (PSR). Denial of Israel’s right to exist
has been widespread among Palestinians. For example, almost two-thirds of Palestinians held this position at the height of the Oslo process in October 1995, when the
general atmosphere was of great optimism about the peace process. The poll was conducted by the Jerusalem Institute for Communications. See the report of it in Haaretz,
15 October 1995.
For a recent example of this phenomenon, see J. J. Mearsheimer and S. Walt,
The Israeli Lobby and US Foreign Policy. Available online: ksgnotes1.harvard.edu/
Research/wpaper.nsf/rwp/RWP06–011.
E. Karsh, Fabricating Israeli History: The ‘New Historians’ (expanded version),
London: Routledge, 2000.
On the effects of isolation, see Inbar, Outcast Countries in the World Community; and
D. Geldhuysen, Isolated States: A Comparative Analysis, Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1990.
G. Sheffer, ‘The Security of Small Ethnic States: A Counter Neo-realist Argument’,
in E. Inbar and G. Sheffer (eds) The National Security of Small States in a Changing
268
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
Notes
World, London: Routledge, 1997, pp. 9–40; and D. Vital, ‘Minor Power/Major Power
Relations and the Contemporary Nation State’, in Inbar and Sheffer (eds) The
National Security of Small States in a Changing World, pp. 197–214.
See, inter alia, Y. Alexander and J. Sinai, Terrorism: The PLO Connection, New
York: Crane, Russak & Co., 1989.
For the Israeli counter-terror campaign, see D. L. Byman and A. Dicter, ‘Israel’s
Lessons for Fighting Terrorists and Their Implications for the United States’, Saban
Centre Analysis, March 2006, no. 8.
For the role of competition in increasing motivation of Palestinian terrorist organizations, see M. M. Bloom, ‘Palestinian Suicide Bombing: Public Support, Market
Share and Outbidding’, Political Science Quarterly, spring 2004, vol. 19, no. 1,
69–82.
See inter alia. Available online at: today.reuters.com/news/NewsArticle.aspx?type1⁄4
worldNews&storyID1⁄42006–0323T144925Z_01_L23127773_RTRUKOT_0_TEXT0.
xml&related1⁄4true&src1⁄4cms.
A. Regular, ‘Abu Mazen Condemned the Attack; Haniyah: It Is a Natural Response’,
Haaretz, 2 April 2006.
W. Laqueur, Terrorism, New York: Crane, Russak & Co., 1977, p. 109; I. O. Lesser,
B. Hoffman, J. Arquilla, D. Ronfeldt and M. Zanini, Countering the New Terrorism,
Santa Monica, CA: RAND, 1999, p. 13.
B. Opall-Rome, ‘Israel Navy Boosts Layers of Anti-terror Defenses’, Defense News,
23 January 2006, 10.
See F. Fukuyama, State-Building: Governance and World Order in the 21st Century,
Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2004; C. A. Crocker, ‘Engaging Failing States’,
Foreign Affairs, September–October 2003, vol. 82, no. 5, 32–44; K. Menkhaus,
Somalia: State Collapse and the Threat of Terrorism, Adelphi Paper no. 364,
London: Routledge, 2003; S. Patrick, ‘Weak States and Global Threats: Facts or
Fiction’, The Washington Quarterly, spring 2006, vol. 29, no. 2, 27–54.
See E. Yaari, Fatah (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Hebrew Publishing., 1970, pp. 125–6.
M. Freund, ‘Beware: Al-Qaeda Is Targeting Israel’, Jerusalem Post, 8 March 2006.
For the distinction between a national and a transnational insurgency, see P.
Staniland, ‘Defeating Transnational Insurgencies: The Best Offense Is a Good Fence’,
The Washington Quarterly, winter 2005–6, vol. 29, no. 1, 21.
See, inter alia, ‘Kosovo as a Model’, Arab News, 14 December 2003. Available
online at: www.aljazeer-info/Opinion%20editorials/2003%20Opinion%20Editorials/
December/14%20o/Kosovo% 20as%20a%20Model,%20Arab%20News.htm; H.
Keinon, ‘Israel Lobbies Against a UN Force’, Jerusalem Post, 12 December 2000.
Patrick, ‘Weak States and Global Threats: Facts or Fiction’, 45.
N. Poller, ‘Myth, Fact, and the al-Dura Affair’, Commentary, September 2005, vol.
120, no. 2, 23–30.
For a grand strategy for Israel which deals not only with the Palestinian issue, see
Y. Dror, ‘A Breakout Political-security Grand-strategy for Israel’, Israel Affairs,
October 2006, vol. 12, no. 4.
For an exception, see J. Herbst, ‘Let Them Fail: State Failure in Theory and Practice:
Implications for Policy’, in Rothberg (ed.) When States Fail, pp. 302–18.
See E. Inbar and S. Sandler, ‘The Risks of Palestinian Statehood’, Survival, summer
1997, vol. 32, no. 2, 23–41.
For the growing Islamic discourse in Palestinian politics, see H. Frisch, The Islamic
Dimension in Palestinian Politics, BESA Mideast Security and Policy Studies no. 61,
Ramat Gan: BESA Center for Strategic Studies, September 2005.
N. Birdsall, D. Rodrik and A. Subramanian, ‘How to Help Poor Countries’, Foreign
Affairs, July–August 2005, vol. 84, no. 4, 143.
M. Indyk, ‘A Trusteeship for Palestine’, Foreign Affairs, May–June 2003, vol. 82,
no. 3, 51–66.
Notes
269
40 For an analysis of this mechanism, see R. Caplan, A New Trusteeship? The International Administration of War-torn Territories, Adelphi Paper no. 341, London:
Routledge, 2002.
41 For a sober analysis of peacekeeping, see D. C. Jett, Why Peacekeeping Fails, New
York: Palgrave Macmillan, 1999.
42 For a discussion of the literature on this subject, see C. Gelpi, P. Weaver and J.
Reifler, ‘Success Matters: Casualty Sensitivity and the War in Iraq’, International
Security, winter 2005, vol. 30, no. 3, 10–17.
43 See S. R. David, ‘Fatal Choices: Israel’s Policy of Targeted Killing’, in E. Inbar (ed.)
Democracies and Small Wars, London: Routledge, 2003, pp. 138–58.
44 See S. Catignani, ‘The Strategic Impasse in Low-intensity Conflicts: The Gap
between Israeli Counter-insurgency Strategy and Tactics during the Al-Aqsa
Intifada’, Journal of Strategic Studies, February 2005, vol. 28, no. 1, 63–70.
45 The average number of innocent victims killed in targeted killings went down during
the 2002 to 2005 period from four casualties to practically zero per incident. See
‘Interview with Maj. Gen. Moshe Kaplinsky, Deputy Chief of the IDF’, Defense
News, 27 March 2006, 22.
46 The figures for the Palestinian population are usually inflated. See B. Zimmerman, R.
Seid and M. L. Wise, The Million Person Gap: The Arab Population in the West
Bank and Gaza, BESA Mideast Security and Policy Studies no. 65, Ramat Gan:
BESA Center for Strategic Studies, February 2006.
47 The literature on US–Israeli relations is voluminous. See, inter alia, A. Ben-Zvi, The
United States and Israel: The Limits of the Special Relationship, New York: Columbia University Press, 1993; or A. Ben-Zvi, Decade or Transition: Eisenhower,
Kennedy and the Formation of the American–Israeli Alliance, New York: Columbia
University Press, 1998.
48 See S. David, ‘American Foreign Policy towards the Middle East: A Necessary
Change’, Israel Affairs, October 2006, vol. 12, no. 4.
49 See Gilboa, ‘Public Diplomacy: The Missing Component in Israel’s Foreign Policy’.
50 M. Howard, ‘The Forgotten Dimension of Strategy’, Foreign Affairs, summer 1979,
vol. 57, no. 5, 975–86.
51 See A. Kober, Israel and Wars of Attrition, BESA Mideast Security and Policy
Studies no. 62, Ramat Gan: BESA Center for Strategic Studies, September 2005; and
M. Elran, Israel’s National Resilience: The Influence of the Second Intifada on Israeli
Society (Hebrew), Memorandum no. 81, Tel Aviv: Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies,
January 2006.
52 For a discussion of this term, see E. Inbar, ‘The “No Choice War” Debate in Israel’,
Journal of Strategic Studies, March 1989, vol. 11, no. 1, 25–8.
53 D. Diker and P. Inbari, ‘Re-energizing a West Bank–Jordan Alliance’, Middle East
Quarterly, spring 2006, vol. 13, no. 2, 29–36.
54 Palestinian Centre for Public Opinion, Poll no. 151, 26 March 2006. Available online
at: www.pcpo.ps.
14 The need to block a nuclear Iran
1 See, inter alia, I. Cobain and I. Trainor (4 January 2006), ‘Secret Services say Iran
is Trying to Assemble a Nuclear Missile’, Guardian. Available online at:
www.guardian.co.uk./iran.story/0,12858,1677542,00.htm; H.L. Krieger, ‘Vienna
Envoy: EU Could Impose Iran Sanctions if UN Doesn’t’, Jerusalem Post, 1 January
2006, 1; ‘Alpogan: Turkey Against Iran Obtaining Nuclear Weapon Capability’, New
Anatolian, 26 January 2006, 3; ‘Stop Iran’, Defense News, 16 January 2006, 20; see
also: www.rferl.org/featuresarticle/2006/02/FA989EBF-4EE0–43BD-9C68-C42A5338
D385.html; www.forbes.com/business/manufacturing/feeds/ap/2006/02/18/ap2537453.
html; www.jpost.com/servlet/Satellite?cid=1139395436735&pagename=JPost%2FJP
270
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
Notes
Article%2FShowFull; www.cbsnews.com/stories/2006/01/12/world/main1203654.
shtml.
‘Sense of Urgency Cited by Bolton on Iran A-bomb’, Sun, 12 April 2006.
U. Mahnaimi and S. Baxter, ‘Israel Readies Forces for Strike on Nuclear Iran’, The
Times, 11 December 2005; (9 December 2005) ‘El Baradei: World’s Patience Running
Out Over Iranian Nuke Program’, USA Today. Available online at: www.usatoday.com/
news/world/2005–12–09-iran-nuke_x.htm?csp=34; msnbc.msn.com/id/10858243/site/
newsweek/.
‘Dagan: Iran Will Become Independent in its Nuclear Program Within Months’,
Haaretz, 28 December 2005, A12.
For the quest for nuclear weapons of the Islamic Republic, see P. Clawson and M.
Rubin, Eternal Iran: Continuity and Chaos, New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005,
pp. 139–46; for a background and chronology of the nuclear program, see
www.nti.org/e_research/profiles/Iran/1819.html.
For a comprehensive review of the nuclear program, see J. Cirincione, J. B. Wolfsthal
and M. Rajkumar, Deadly Arsenals: Nuclear, Biological and Chemical Threats,
Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2005, 2nd ed, pp.
295–314. See also the fact sheet at www.armscontrol.org; and D. Frantz, ‘Iran Closes
in Ability to Build a Nuclear Bomb’, Los Angeles Times, 4 August 2003.
Natural uranium consists mostly of the uranium-235 isotope, with about 0.7 percent
by weight of uranium-235. The uranium-235 isotope is fissionable material. Enriched
uranium is uranium whose uranium-235 content has been increased through a process
of isotope separation. The fissile uranium in nuclear weapons usually contains 85
percent or more of uranium-235, known as weapon-grade.
For estimates of Korean capabilities, see J. D. Pollack, ‘The United States, North
Korea, and the End of the Agreed Framework’, Naval War College Review, summer
2003, vol. 56, 11–49.
For such a posture, see B. Frankel (ed.), Opaque Nuclear Proliferation: Methodology
and Policy Implications, London: Frank Cass, 1991.
For an analysis of denuclearization, see A. E. Levite, ‘Never Say Never Again: Nuclear
Reversal Revisited’, International Security, winter 2002–3, vol. 27, no. 3, 59–88.
P. Sherwell, ‘How We Duped the West, By Iran’s Nuclear Negotiator’, Daily Telegraph, 5 March 2006.
For the roots and character of anti-Western ideologies, see I. Buruma and A. Margalit,
Occidentalism. The West in the Eyes of Its Enemies, London: Penguin Books, 2004.
M. Kedar, ‘Nucleotheism’, Jerusalem Post, 14 December 2005, 13.
See Y. Dror, Crazy States, Lexington, MA: Heath Lexington, 1973, ch. 2. For an
early reference to ‘rogue states’, see A. Lake, ‘Confronting Backlash States’, Foreign
Affairs, March–April 1994, vol. 73, no. 2.
For the rationale of state-supported terrorism and for Iran’s links to the Hizballah, see
D. Byman, Deadly Connections. States that Sponsor Terrorism, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005, pp. 21–52, 79–116.
(24 April 2004) ‘Patterns of Global Terrorism – 2003’, US Department of State.
Available online at: www.state.gov./s/ct/rls/pgtrpt/2003/31644.htm.
‘Ze’evi: US–Iran Diplomatic Process Stuck in the Mud’, Jerusalem Post, 21
December 2005, 2.
Uzi Rubin, the father of the Israeli Arrow missile program, noted that Iranian capability to launch a satellite – an ability that Iran is aggressively pursuing – amounts to the
country’s possession of intercontinental missiles. See J. Stahl (9 December 2005),
‘Iran’s Space Launch Program May Put US at Nuclear Risk’, CNS News. Available
online at: www.cnsnews.com/ViewForeignBureaus.asp?Page=\ForeignBureaus\archive\
200512\FOR20051209e.html.
K. J. McInnis, ‘Extended Deterrence: The US Credibility Gap in the Middle East’,
Washington Quarterly, summer 2005, vol. 28, no. 3, 169–86.
Notes
271
20 For the Arrow program, see U. Rubin, ‘Meeting the “Depth Threat” in Iraq – The
Origins of Israel’s Arrow System’, Jerusalem Issue Brief, Jerusalem Centre for Public
Affairs, 5 March 2003, vol. 2, no. 19. The United States and Israel have also shown
interest in the Boost Phase Intercept option (BPI), when missiles are slow and have a
big electronic signature. This option is particularly appealing if the missile carries a
nuclear warhead that could explode immediately after launch in the vicinity of the
launcher. This weapon system is still in a development stage, and it is not clear if it
will be operational by the time Iran goes nuclear.
21 For American difficulties in erecting a missile defense system, see J. Singer,
‘MDA War Game Highlights Missile Defence Complexity’, Defense News, 6 February 2006, 18.
22 For the formative argument that nuclear deterrence is context-dependent, see A.
Wohlstetter, ‘The Delicate Balance of Terror’, Foreign Affairs, January 1959, vol. 36,
no. 1, 211–34. For an application of this argument to the Middle East, see Y. Evron,
‘Nuclear Weapons in the Middle East’, in A. Arian (ed.) Israel: A Developing
Society, Assen: Van Gorcum, 1980, pp. 105–26. For a similar argument about the
Indian subcontinent, see S. P. Kapur, ‘India and Pakistan’s Unstable Peace: Why
Nuclear South Asia Is Not Like Cold War Europe’, International Security, fall 2005,
vol. 30, no. 2, 125–52. The counter-argument that nuclear proliferation might bring
stability is extremely problematic. For a recent formulation of this thesis, see K. N.
Waltz, ‘For Better: Nuclear Weapons Preserve an Imperfect Peace’, in S. D. Sagan
and K. N. Waltz The Spread of Nuclear Weapons: A Debate Renewed, New York:
W. W. Norton, 2003.
23 One reason for the Israeli interest in cooperation with India is to facilitate a naval
presence in the Indian Ocean. See E. Inbar, ‘The Indian–Israeli Entente’, Orbis,
winter 2004, vol. 48, no. 1, pp. 99–100.
24 ‘Rafsanjani says Muslims Should Use Nuclear Weapons Against Israel’, Iran Press
Service. Available online at: www.iran-press-service.com/articles_2001/dec_2001/
rafsanjani_nuke_threats_141201.htm.
25 T. C. Schelling, The Strategy of Conflict, 4th edn, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1997, p. 37.
26 Raymond Aron uses this phrase to emphasize that the dialogue between the participants in a conflict establishes the meaning of the action. See his War and Peace:
A Theory in International Relations, Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1966, p. 167.
27 The author thanks Steven David for bringing this point to his attention. For a balanced discussion of nuclear terrorism, see R. M. Frost, Nuclear Terrorism After 9/11,
Adelphi Paper no. 378, London: IISS and Routledge, December 2005.
28 The term ‘energy ellipse’ was coined by G. Kemp and R. E. Harkavy, Strategic Geography and the Changing Middle East, Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for
International Peace, 1997, p. 113.
29 Jerusalem Post, 1 December 2005, 1.
30 ‘Interview with PM Rabin’, Bamahane, 23 September 1992, 9. For Rabin’s attitude
toward the introduction of nuclear weapons in the Middle East, see E. Inbar, Yitzhak
Rabin and Israel’s National Security, Washington, DC: Wilson Center and Johns
Hopkins University Press, 1999, pp. 118–24.
31 For Iranian attitudes toward Israel see D. Menashri, ‘Iran, Israel and the Middle East
Conflict’, Israel Affairs, January 2006, vol. 12, no. 1, 107–22.
32 For the notion of ‘soft power’, see J. S. Nye, Soft Power. The Means to Success in
World Politics, New York: Public Affairs, 2004.
33 See F. Stockman, ‘US and Allies Eye Sanctions on Iran’, Boston Globe, 21 February
2006.
34 M. Levine, A. Turkeltaub and A. Gorbansky, ‘3 Myths About the Iran Conflict’,
Washington Post, 7 February 2006, A21.
35 See R. A. Pape, ‘Why Economic Sanctions Do Not Work’, International Security, fall
272
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
Notes
1997, vol. 27, no. 3, 90–136; J. F. Blanchard and N. M. Risman, ‘Asking the Right
Question: When Do Economic Sanctions Work Best?’, Security Studies, autumn
1999–winter 2000, vol. 9, nos 1–2, 219–53.
Clawson and Rubin, Eternal Iran, p. 158.
N. Sharansky, The Case for Democracy, New York: Public Affairs, 2004.
A. Milani, ‘US Foreign Policy and the Future of Democracy in Iran’, Washington
Quarterly, summer 2005, vol. 28, no. 3, 41–56.
J. Bolton. (30 October 2003), ‘The New World After Iraq: The Continuing Threat of
Weapons of Mass Destruction’, US Department of State. Available online at:
www.state.gov/t/us/rm/25752.htm.
Haaretz, 24 November 2003, A5.
B. Rubin, Cauldron of Turmoil: America in the Middle East, New York: Harcourt
Brace Jovanovich, 1992, pp. 102–9.
S. M. Hersh (17 April 2006), ‘The Iran Plans – Would President Bush Go to War to
Stop Tehran from Getting the Bomb?’, The New Yorker. Available online at:
www.newyorker.com/fact/content/articles/060417fa_fact.
See, inter alia, E. N. Lutwak, ‘In a Single Night’, Wall Street Journal, 8 February
2006.
(12 January 2005), ‘Cheney: Iran at “Top of List of Trouble Spots” asks Israel to
Carry Out the Attack’, Center for Research on Globalization. Available online:
globalresearch.ca/articles/501A.html.
(18 February 2005), ‘Bush Declares Solidarity with Europe on Iran’, MSNBC. Available online at: www.msnbc.msn.com/id/6992154/.
‘All Options Are on The Table’, President George W. Bush on Iran, Disarmament
Diplomacy, August 2005, vol. 12. From Y. Deckel (11 August 2005), ‘Interview of
the President by Israeli Television Channel 1’, Israeli TV Channel 1, Bush Ranch,
Crawford, Texas. Available online at: www.acronym.org.uk/docs/0508/doc04.htm.
C. Giacomo, ‘US Senators Say Military Strike on Iran Must be an Option’, Reuters,
15 January 2006.
(27 January 2006), ‘57 Percent Back a Hit on Iran if Defiance Persists’, LA Times,
based on LA Times poll. Available online at: www.latimes.com/news/
nationworld/nation/la-na fornpoll27jan27,0,5687029.story?coll =l a-home-headlines
(and another presentation of BBC poll results: www.globescan.com/news_
a rchives/bbcpoll06–3.html).
Iran a Growing Danger, Bush Gaining on Spy Issue, Washington, DC: Pew Research
Center, 7 February 2006. Available online at: people-press.org/reports/display.
php3?ReportID=269.
Ibid.
See www.globescan.com/news_archives/bbcpoll06–3.html.
P. Webster (28 October 2005), ‘Blair Hints at Military Action after Iran’s “Disgraceful” Taunt’, Times Online. Available online at: www.timesonline.co.uk/article/
0,,251–1846793,00.html.
Interviews of the author with senior French officials, February 2006.
Cumhuriet, 13 December 2005.
L. Pronina, ‘Russian Arms Sale to Iran Draws US Scrutiny’, Defense News, 12
December 2005, 6.
N. Guttman, ‘Yaalon: Israeli Can Hit Iran’s Nuke Sites’, Jerusalem Post, 10 March
2006, 1.
E. Inbar, The Israeli–Turkish Entente, London: King’s College Mediterranean
Program, 2001, ch. 2.
Notes
273
15 Israel’s strategic mistakes in the 2006 Lebanon War
The author acknowledges the useful comments by Stuart Cohen, Avi Kober and
Shmuel Sandler and the valuable research assistance of Ian Bomberg, Sara H.
Krulewich and Tamara Sternlieb.
1 G. Alon, ‘To Make Sure that the Dwarf does not Drag us into a War against Syria’,
Haaretz, 24 July 2006, B3.
2 For a chronology of Hizballah activities against Israel, see www.mfa.gov.il/MFA/
Terrorism-+Obstacle+to+Peace/Terrorism+from+Lebanon-+Hizbullah/Incidents%20
along%20Israel-Lebanon%20border%20since%20May%202000.
3 See E. Zisser, ‘Hizballah and Israel: Strategic Threat on the Northern Border’, Israel
Affairs, January 2006, vol. 12, no. 1, 86–106.
4 A. Ringel-Hoffman, ‘Time Works Against Us’, Yediot Aharonot, 5 July 2002,
Shabbat Supplement, 4–7.
5 A. Shavit, ‘Colleagues Undermine You’, Haaretz, 8 August 2003, Shabbat Supplement, 24.
6 For example, see the interview with MK Yuval Steinitz, Defense News, 29 January
2007; and the comments of former intelligence branch of the IDF chief Maj. Gen. A.
Zeevi-Farkash, Channel 2 (Israel), 5 November 2006.
7 Jerusalem Post, 21 July 2006, 1.
8 I. Kfir, The Earth Has Trembled (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Maariv, 2006, pp. 21, 23. Olmert
claimed that he had planned a forceful reaction already two months before the abduction took place. It is not clear what kind of planning was involved at this earlier stage. In
any case, his government decided at the end of May 2006 on a budget cut of NIS 510
million (ci. $125 million), which does not indicate preparations for a large-scale campaign. Moreover, the government made no diplomatic preparations for a large-scale
conflict in the north. Similarly, the home front was not alerted to such a possibility.
9 Jerusalem Post, 17 July 2006, 1.
10 ‘Report of the Commission of Inquiry into the Events at the Refugee Camps in
Beirut’ (‘The Kahan Commission’), 8 February 1983. Available online at:
www.mfa.gov.il/MFA/Foreign%20Relations/Israels%20Foreign%20Relations%20since
%201947/1982–1984/104%20Report%20of %20the%20Commission%20of%20Inquiry
%20into%20the%20e.
11 O. Shelah and Y. Limor, Captives of Lebanon (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Miskal, 2007, p. 128.
12 Haaretz, 29 November 2006, A3.
13 Kfir, The Earth Has Trembled, p. 178.
14 Haaretz, 4 November 2006, B3.
15 Shelah and Limor, Captives of Lebanon, p. 160.
16 According to the plan, RAFAEL’s ‘Iron Dome’ and ‘Magic Wand’ systems will be
used to defend against Qassam rockets, short-range Katyushas and medium-range
Iranian-made ‘Zelzal’ missiles, while ‘Arrow’ missiles will protect Israel from Syrian
and Iranian long-range missiles.
17 Schiff, ‘Let us be Realistic’, B4.
18 Haaretz, 16 February 2007, 1.
19 Jerusalem Post, 21 July 2006, 1.
20 For a detailed analysis of the Katyusha attacks, see U. Rubin, The Rocket Attacks on
Israel During the 2006 Lebanon War, Mideast Security and Policy Studies, Ramat
Gan: The Begin–Sadat Center for Strategic Studies, June 2007, no. 71.
21 Kfir, The Earth Has Trembled, p. 189.
22 E. Cohen, ‘The Mystique of US Air Power’, Foreign Affairs, January/February 1994,
vol. 73, no. 1, 109–24.
23 Adm. B. Owens, with E. Offley, Lifting the Fog of War, New York: Farrar, Straus &
Giroux, 2000.
274
Notes
24 In a public lecture at Tel Aviv University on 19 December 2006. Only lone voices in
the IDF have voiced strong criticism of the search for high-tech solutions, accusing
their organization of ‘worshipping’ technology, harming the development of nontechnological responses and causing an unbalanced order of battle. See, inter alia,
Col. Dr. M. Finkel, ‘The Rites of Technology in the IDF – Return the Balance to the
Land Build-up’, Maarachot, June 2006, no. 407, 40–5.
25 See S. Gordon, The Vulture and the Snake, Mideast Security and Policy Studies, no.
39, Ramat Gan: Begin-Sadat Center for Strategic Studies, Bar-Ilan University, July
1998.
26 MK Dr. Y. Steinitz advocated giving the navy and missiles a larger role. See his ‘The
Sea as Israel’s Strategic Depth’, Maarachot, May 2002, no. 383; and his ‘It is Missiles’, Maarachot, December 2005, nos 403–404, 70–4.
27 The area south of the Litani River was not the responsibility of the IAF but of the
Northern Command, and the IAF was not given the job of dealing with the shortrange rockets south of the river.
28 The Air Force Organ, No. 132, May 2000.
29 Jerusalem Post, 20 July 2006, 1.
30 Kfir, The Earth Has Trembled, p. 293.
31 Ibid., p. 114.
32 For an account of the discussions in the General Staff, see Haaretz, 23 January 2007,
A1–2.
33 Kfir, The Earth Has Trembled, p. 159; see also D. Ivry, ‘The Implications of Limited
Conflicts on the 2006 Lebanon War’, in A Collection of Articles (Hebrew), Tel Aviv:
The Fisher Institute for Air and Space Strategic Studies, December 2006, pp. 7–8.
34 Haaretz, 4 November 2006, A3.
35 Haaretz, 18 October 2006, A3.
36 Remarks by Israel’s Vice-Prime Minister Ehud Olmert, Israel Policy Forum Tribute
Dinner, 9 June 2005. Available online at: www.israelpolicyforum.org/.
37 E. Inbar, Yitzhak Rabin and Israel’s National Security, Baltimore, MD: Johns
Hopkins University Press, 1999, pp. 161–2.
38 Y. Marcus, ‘On Stamina and Strategic Myopia’, Haaretz, 13 January 2004, B1.
39 ‘The Chief of the Northern Command: The Struggle of the Right is More Dangerous
than the Hizballah Missiles’, Globes, 11 January 2005.
40 For ‘post-heroic warfare’ see, E. Luttwak, ‘Toward Post-heroic Warfare’, Foreign
Affairs, May/June 1995, vol. 74, no. 3, 109–22; and his ‘A Post-heroic Military
Policy’, Foreign Affairs, July/August 1996, vol. 75, no. 4, 33–44.
41 See P. Weaver and C. Gelpi, Choosing Your Battles: American Civil–Military Relations and the Use of Force, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2004, p. 97;
and C. Gelpi, P. Weaver and J. Reifler, ‘Success Matters: Casualty Sensitivity and the
War in Iraq’, International Security, winter 2005/6, vol. 30, no. 3, 7–46.
42 A. Kober, ‘From Blitzkrieg to Attrition: Israel’s Attrition Strategy and Staying
Power’, Small Wars and Insurgencies, June 2005, vol. 16, no. 2, 216–40; M. Elran,
Israel’s National Resilience: The Influence of the Second Intifada on Israeli Society
(Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies, Memorandum no. 81,
January 2006; N. Morag, ‘The Economic and Social Effects of Terrorism: Israel,
2000–2004’, MERIA, September 2006, vol. 10, no. 3. For an analysis of Israeli
society during the 1991 Iraqi missile attacks, see Z. Solomon, Coping with WarInduced Stress: The Gulf War and the Israeli Response, New York: Plenum Press,
1995.
43 Only 15 percent agreed with the statement ‘the Palestinians are correct in their belief
that additional terror pressure on Israel will cause a breakdown of Israeli society’,
while 68 percent thought it was wrong (other responses received 17 percent). A
‘Maagar Mochot’ poll reported by Israel’s Radio on the program ‘It’s All Talk’, 28
December 2006.
Notes
275
44 Y. Katz, ‘No Drop in Motivation for Combat Service’, Jerusalem Post, 19 November
2006.
45 Channel 7 News, 26 July 2006.
46 Jerusalem Post, 28 July 2006, 1.
47 MSN News, 15 August 2006. Available online at: news.msn.co.il/news/StatePolitical
Military/State/200608.
48 Jerusalem Post, 19 July 2006, 1.
49 Kfir, The Earth Has Trembled, p. 22.
50 edition.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/Europe/07/18/bush.tape.reaction/index.html.
51 Haaretz, 30 November 2006, A4.
52 Author’s interviews with US senior officials, September 2006.
53 For the IDF document defining the goals of the campaign, which was presented to the
government, see Z. Schiff, ‘Let Us Be Realistic’, Haaretz, 20 October 2006, B4.
54 Statement of Prime Minister Ehud Olmert to the Knesset, 17 July 2006, official transcript, p. 2.
55 The Prime Minister’s Statement to the Heads of the Municipal Authorities, 31 July
2006, official transcript, p. 4.
56 See her joint press conference with EU Envoy Javier Solana on 19 July 2006, and her
statement to the Knesset on 8 August 2006. See also Jerusalem Post, 24 October
2006, 3.
57 Jerusalem Post, 20 July 2006, 1.
58 Jerusalem Post, 17 July 2006, 2.
59 Schiff, ‘Let us be Realistic’, B4.
60 Kfir, The Earth Has Trembled, p. 22.
61 ‘Interview with Yossi Kuperwasser’, Hatzofe, 20 October 2006, Shabbat Supplement
(Hashavua), 7–8.
62 See his ‘Interview with Ari Shavit’, Haaretz, Weekend Supplement, 15 September
2006, 16–17.
63 See, inter alia, T. Najam, Lebanon: The Politics of a Penetrated Society, New York:
Routledge, 2007.
64 E. Inbar, ‘Israel’s Palestinian Challenge’, Israel Affairs, October 2006, vol. 12, no. 4,
823–42.
65 For a discussion of attaining goals, see A. Kober, ‘Israeli War Objectives into an Era
of Negativism’, Journal of Strategic Studies, June 2001, vol. 24, no. 2, 176–201.
66 Jerusalem Post, 18 July; 1 August 2006.
67 On 13 July 2006, a task force at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs had already formulated a ‘diplomatic exit’ to the war based upon a new UNSC resolution and an international force in southern Lebanon. See A. Eldar, ‘How We Gave In’, Haaretz,
1 October 2006, B3.
68 See her speech to the Knesset on 8 August 2006, official transcript, p. 2.
69 Jerusalem Post, 19 July 2006, p. 2.
70 ‘Interview with Yossi Kuperwasser’, p. 7.
71 Ibid.
72 Haaretz, 31 August 2006, 1.
73 D. Sands, ‘Syria still arming Hizballah, Politician Says’, Washington Times, 1
November 2006. Available online at: www.washingtontimes.com/world/20061031–
100116–5406r.htm.
74 Ibid.
75 E. Shanon and T. McGirk, Time, 24 November 2006. Available online at:
www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1562890,00.html.
76 ‘Mossad: Syria Arming Hizballah Rapidly’, Ynet, 18 December 2006. Available
online at: www.ynetnews.com/articles/0,7340,L-3341518,00.html.
77 Y. Benhorin, ‘UNIFIL Won’t Shoot at IDF Planes’, Yediot Aharonot, 20 October
2006, 1.
276
Notes
78 Jerusalem Post, 28 October 2006, 1.
79 One of the goals of Yasser Arafat in initiating a terror campaign against Israel in
September 2000 was the internationalization of the conflict in accordance with the
Kosovo model. Later on, pro-Palestinian political circles realized the Palestinians’
difficulty in establishing a modern political entity and therefore advocated the establishment of an international mandate over Palestinian territories and the dispatch of an
international force in order to enforce the peace. See M. Indyk, ‘A Trusteeship for
Palestine’, Foreign Affairs, May/June 2003, vol. 82, no. 3, 51–66; S. Ben-Ami, ‘Internationalizing the Solution: Multilateralism and International Legitimacy’, PalestineIsrael Journal, vol. 13, no. 4, 2007, 9–14. For a sober analysis of peacekeeping, see
D. Jett, Why Peacekeeping Fails, New York: Palgrave, 1999.
80 E. Inbar, ‘Contours of Israeli New Strategic Thinking’, Political Science Quarterly,
spring 1996, vol. 111, no. 1, 41–64.
Index
aircraft 29, 30, 32, 33, 73, 178, 179; Lavi
101
airspace 73; Jordan 78
Al Qaeda 197
Allon, Y. 5, 12
Aloni, S. 57
America 171; financial support 167; see
also United States of America
American Air Force 73, 76
American–Israeli Defense Treaty 86–7
American Jewish community 171, 185
American tripwire 9
ammunitions: arms 31; Israel Defense
Forces (IDF) 50
Arab 7, 82; arsenals 16; countries 10;
forces 3; military offensive 8; oil 126
Arafat, Y. 114, 191, 192
Arens, M. 56, 74, 75, 77, 79, 101–2; Israeli
Defense Forces (IDF) 46; perspective
40–1
Arieh 33; project 33–4
arms: ammunition 31; embargo 31;
India/Israeli co-production 180; industry
27; market 24; production 35; sales 27;
transfer 26, 30
army: Israeli 3; Syrian 6, 59; see also
military
Arrow technology 170
arsenal, Soviet Union 29
Assad, H. 120, 121, 147
assassinations 138
attrition, warfare 44
attritional approach 45
authority: arrests 43; Intifada 45; Palestine
52
Axis of Evil (Bush) 208
Baker, J. 76, 82–3
Ballistic Missile Defense (BMD) 211
Barak, E. 166; evaluation 96
Bar-Lev, C. 57, 62, 63
Begin, M. 4, 34, 60, 65; government 14,
23, 25; no choice war 61
Beilin, Y. 89; and Peres, S. 121
Ben-Gurion, D. 86
bipolarity, international systems 81
Bir, General 161, 165, 168
Bolton, J. (US ambassador) 217, 233
Border Police: Green Line 41, 42, 47
Bush, G. 146
Camp David Accords 111, 142, 145
Carter, President 26, 27, 30, 33
casus belli 4, 5, 16, 17, 19; military
doctrine 17
Central Asia 106, 184
Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) 74
chemical weapons, Iraq 74, 107–8
Cheney, R. (US Vice-President) 219
Chirac, J. 230
civilian population, responsibility for 43
civilians 43–4
Clausewitzian approach 61, 62, 64, 65, 66,
67
coalition 4
Cold War 103, 116, 145, 147
colonialism 131–2
Command and Staff College, Israel
Defense Forces (IDF) 49
command level, Israel Defense Forces
(IDF) 48–9
commando units, Israel Defense Forces
(IDF) 50
Conference on Security and Cooperation
in Europe (CSCE) 99
conflict 63; Arab–Israeli 39; defense
minister’s role 40; military superiority
40; Rabin 40; use of force 40–1
278
Index
Congress Party, India 175
contingencies: Sharon, A. 18
crazy state (Dror) 210, 214
credibility 28
Cyprus, Greece 157
defeat, military 7–8
defense budget: Rabin 46
defense industry 32, 33, 35, 87; interest
group 34
defensive measures 21–2
defensive nihilism 85
defensive posture, Israel 4
demilitarization 8, 9
Desert Storm 124
deterrence, result of erosion 41
deterrent power 8, 21
Diaspora 89
Dolphin-class submarines 212, 221
Eastern Front 112
Ecevit, B. 163
economic sanctions: Iran 216–17
economic targets: Syria 8
economy, oil 106
Egypt 3, 142; Peace Treaty 17, 143
Egyptian–Israeli Peace Treaty 3
Eitan, Lt. Gen. R. 6, 8, 56, 64–5
equipment: Israel Defense Forces (IDF)
51
establishment, military 11
Europe, attitudes towards 172–3
extremists 130; groups 131; Islamic 131
F-15 29
F-16 33; models 104
Fatah–Hamas political cohabitation 193
fawdah 192
financial aid 33; American 34
financial support: America 167
Ford, President 34
freedom: action 43–4
fundamentalism 151
Galilee: Operation Peace 55, 65
Gaza 205, 223
Golan Heights 15, 100–1, 111, 119, 121,
122–3, 124, 127
government 18; Begin, M. 14, 23, 25;
nuclear reactor 16; Rabin, Y. 4, 12, 94
Green Line: Border Police 47
gross national product (GNP) 151
Gulf, oil 72
Gulf War 52, 83, 84, 108, 116, 124, 142,
160; crisis 82; factor influencing 78;
strategic implications 81–4
Gur, B. 4; and Rabin, Y. 96
Halutz, D. 224, 227
Hamas 198, 199; terrorists 150
Hassan R. 209
Hizballah 127, 130, 131, 135, 140, 191,
223, 225; Syria 113
hostility, Arab 3
Hussein, S. 76, 108, 113, 146; Kuwait 71;
regime 82; weapons 71
India: Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) 175;
Congress Party 175; unmanned aerial
vehicles (UAVs) 178, 179
Indian–Israeli entente 174–87
Indian–Israeli space ventures 181
Indian Ocean 183–4
integrated policy: military aspects 44;
Rabin, Y. 44
Intelligence Branch, Israel Defense Forces
(IDF) 49
interest group, defense industry 34
international coalition: Iraq 72
international power 7
international systems: bipolarity 81
Intifada 39, 44, 95, 97; activists 45;
authority 45; beginning 41;
characteristics 39; Israel Defense Forces
(IDF) 48; media 42; Palestinian 93;
Rabin, Y. 44, 45; reservists 48; social
consciousness 51; sui generis 39;
violence 39
Iran 207–22; economic sanctions 216–17;
Iraq 97; nuclear weapons 207
Iranian nuclear program 208–10
Iranian scientists 218
Iranian uranium 215
Iraq: chemical weapons 74, 107–8;
international coalition 72; invasion 159;
invasion of Kuwait 123; Iran 97; missile
attacks 97, 98; oil fields 71
Islam, radical 133–4, 181–3, 187
Islamic Resistance Movement 129
Islamic Welfare Party (Refah) 136–7
Israel: invincibility 7; military 3, 6, 7;
pressure of war 228; United States of
America (USA) 79–81; wars 56–61
Israel Aircraft Industry (IAI), Aravas 32
Israel Defense Forces (IDF) 55, 91, 95, 96,
135; ammunition 50; command level
48–9; Command and Staff College 49;
commando units 50; equipment 51;
Index 279
Intelligence Branch 49; Intifada 48;
manpower 47–9; multi-year work plan
45; operations 50–1; organizational
dynamics 47; political leadership 54;
regulation of opening fire 50–1; training
49; victory 51–4
Israeli Air Force (IAF) 29, 73, 78, 97
Israeli Barak anti-missile system 179
Israeli response (Intifida): riots 42; stage
four 46–7; stage one 41–2; stage three
43–6; stage two 42–3
Israeli–Turkish strategic partnership 164–5
Jerusalem 110, 143; Washington 103, 104,
106, 146
Jewish state 130, 131
jihad 150
Jonson, B. 129
Jordan: airspace 78; Peace Treaty 88;
relations with Israel 75
Jordan Valley 22
jus ad bellum 59
Katzav, M. 57
Katyushas 196, 223, 226
Kfirs 33, 34
Kissinger, H. 6; and Rabin, Y. 30
Knesset, Rabin, Y. 99
Korean nuclear program 210
Kurds 166, 168
Kuwait 72, 76, 101; Hussein, S. 71;
invasion 123; liberation 72; occupation
72
Labour Knesset 92
Labour Party 93
Lavi, aircraft 101
leadership 88
Lebanon 58–9, 63, 64, 94, 115, 121, 232,
233, 234; SAM system 19; war 61
Levy, D. 74, 77
Lewis, B. 130
liberation: Kuwait 72
Litani Operation 57
Litani River 21
low-intensity conflict (LIC) 133, 134–6
lower level commanders 27
Mahmoud Abbas 192
Mahmoud Ahmedinijad 194, 210, 214, 220
manpower 12, 47–9; Israel Defense Forces
(IDF) 47
martyr (shaheed) 194
media: Intifada 42
Mediterranean Sixth Fleet 35
Memorandum of Understanding (MOU)
15, 104; Sinai 2 agreement 25
Merkava tank 32–3, 34, 225
Middle East 7, 14, 91, 121, 149;
intellectual influences 139; politics 73
military: attack 73; defeat 8; establishment
11; indigenous production 31–5; Israel
3, 6, 7, 11, 12; quantitative growth 18;
Russia 162; status quo 18; support 3;
Turkey 161
military doctrine, causus belli 17
military goals, unrealistic 231–2
military offensive, Arabs 8
military strength: weapons 24
military superiority: conflict 40
military threat: settlements 55
Ministry of Defense 28, 30
Mintzna, Maj.Gen A. 42–3
missile attacks: Iraq 98; weapons 83–4
Missile Technology Control Regime
(MTCR) 100
mobilization 12
modus operandi 128
Mofaz, S. Lt. Gen. 223
Mossad 83
movement, Peace Now 59
multi-year work plan, Israel Defense
Forces (IDF) 45
Musharraf, President P. 184
Nachmias, A. 57
nationalism, Palestinian 75
Netanyahu, B. 165
night vision equipment 29
no choice war 55, 58–61; Begin, M. 61;
interpretations 59, 60; Rabin 61
Nodong missile 105
Nonproliferation Treaty of Nuclear
Weapons (NPT) 20, 88
North Atlantic Treaty Organisation
(NATO) 158, 162
North Korean nuclear programs 105
nuclear non-proliferation regime (NPT)
211
nuclear program 20; North Korea 105
nuclear reactor 16, 20
nuclear weapons: Iran 207
Nuclear Weapon Free Zone (NWFZ) 20
October War (1973) 4, 10, 12, 15, 26–7,
32; post-period 6
oil: Arabs 126; economy 106; Gulf 72
oil fields: Iraq 71
280
Index
oil states: Arab 3
Olmert, E. 232
Operation Peace for Galilee 65
operative goal: Rabin 44
organizational dynamics, Israel Defense
Forces (IDF) 47
Oslo Agreement (1993) 147–8, 160, 191,
196
Pakistan 178, 182, 184
Palestinian Authority (PA) 52, 114, 135,
137, 149, 159
Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO)
66, 111, 144–5
Palestinian state: building 199–201;
economy 200, 203; trusteeship 201, 202
Palestinians 52, 94; Rabin, Y. 43; violence
53
pan-Arabism 143–4
pariah state 26, 33
Pax Americana 84, 104, 152
Peace Now movement 59
peace process: Rabin 46
Peace Treaty: Jordan 83, 88
Peres, S. 5, 28, 31, 34, 36, 46, 56, 62, 86,
89, 97, 102, 111, 120, 128, 138, 149;
and Beilin, Y. 121; and Rabin, Y. 91
political leadership: Israel Defense Forces
(IDF) 54
political power: Arab 3
politics 138; Israeli 52; Middle East 73
pre-emptive attack 4; Israeli 9
pressures, American 3
private stockpiles 27
procrastination 30
procurement: plans 28; weapon 35
production: arms 35
quantitative growth, military 18
quantitative imbalance 21
R&D: weapons 102
Rabin, Y. 4, 8, 42, 63, 89, 90, 93, 94, 109,
112, 115, 120; Border Police 42; conflict
40; death 102; defense budget 46; goals
42; government 12, 94; and Gur 96;
integrated policy 44; Intifada 44, 45;
and Kissinger 30; Knesset 99; no choice
war 61; operative goal 44; Palestinian
aspirations 46; Palestinians 43; peace
process 46; and Peres, S. 91;
preparedness 32; unit cost projects 32;
violence 45
radical groups, Islamic 129–30
radical Islam 181–3, 187
Reagan Administration 15
realpolitik 99, 119, 128, 153
red line 19
Reliant Mermaid 110
Republican Congress 122
requirement: weapons 24
reservist: Intifida 48; training programs 48
retalitory policy 26
Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA)
83
riots, Israeli response 42
Rubinstein, A. 56
Russia 173, 178–9; military 162
safety valve: Sharon, A. 19
salami tactics 21
SAM system 100; Lebanon 19
Sarid, Y. 85
Saudi Arabia 64; airspace 73; India 177
scientists: Iran 218
secure borders policy 20
self-help system: Waltz, K. 85
settlement policy, Israel 12
settlements: military threat 55
Shamir, Y. 65, 77–8
Sharon, A. 17, 64, 176, 204, 224;
contingencies 18; global perspective 64;
safety valve 19
Shehab-3 211
Shem-Tov, V. 59
Shomron, D. 42, 73, 78
Sinai 2 agreement 10, 26
Sinai Campaign 63
Sinai Desert 13, 125
Six Day War 6, 63
Sneh, E. 164
social consciousness, Intifada 51
society 21, 51
Soviet Union 14, 90, 106, 147; arsenal 29;
Yugoslavia 123
space ventures: India-Israeli 181
state: Israel 65–6, 132; Jewish 130, 131
strategic cooperation 15
strategic thinking 3–23
submarines 212, 221
Syria 3, 92, 110, 115, 166–8, 229, 230;
army 6; economic targets 8; Hizballah
113
Tadiran 35
technology 28
Tehran, Small Satan 109
terrorism 196–7, 203; effect 140
Index 281
terrorists, Hamas 150
training: Israel Defense Forces (IDF) 49
training programs, reservist 48
Turkey 163, 168, 171; military 161
Turkish Ministry of Foriegn Affairs
159–60
Tzur, Y. 62, 63; Labour leader 59
UNIFIL force, Lebanon 234
United Kingdom (UK) 172
United Nations (UN) 9, 22
United Nations Security Council (UNSC)
Resolution (1701) 224
United States of America (USA) 9, 31,
79–81, 87; Israel 79–81; weapons 25, 29
unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs); India
178, 179
US–Indian–Israeli alliance 186
US–Israeli Defense Treaty 101
Waltzer, M. 57
war: Lebanon 61; pressure 228
War of Attrition 63
war by choice 58; interpretations 60
warfare 47; chemical 74; strategy of
attrition 44; sui generis 43
Washington 184; Jerusalem 4–5
water 167
weapons 10; Americans 25; chemical 74,
83, 107–8; dirty 27; experiments 105;
Hussein, S. 71; Iraq 74, 107–8; main
parameters in relationships 24–7;
military strength 24; missile attacks
83–4; procurement program 17, 18, 35;
R&D 102; requirement 24; smart 92;
sole donor-recipient 24; systems 17;
transfer 10; USA 25, 29
weapons of mass destruction (WMD) 103,
116, 169
victory: Israel Defense Forces (IDF) 51–4
violence: Intifada 39; Palestinians 53;
Rabin 45
Yom Kippur War 5
Yugoslavia, Soviet Union 123
Waltz, K.: self-help system 85
Zionism, entity 132