How Israel Won a War but Paid a High Moral Price
A decade of targeted assassinations has pushed the boundaries of Israel's laws and military ethics — and harmed its image across the globe.
BY On May 18, 2001, a Hamas operative wearing a long dark blue coat came to the security checkpoint outside the HaSharon Mall, near the northern Israeli city of Netanya. He aroused the suspicion of the guards, who stopped him from entering, and then blew himself up, killing five bystanders. On June 1, another suicide bomber killed 21 people, most of them young Jewish immigrants from Russia, standing in line outside a discotheque on a beach in Tel Aviv. The owner of the dance hall, Shlomo Cohen, had served as a naval commando, “but this was the worst thing I had seen in my life,” he said, with despair in his eyes.
By early November, suicide bombers were striking in the streets of Israel almost every week and sometimes every few days. On Dec. 1, three bombers in succession killed 11 people in Jerusalem’s Ben Yehuda pedestrian mall. The next day, a man from Nablus blew himself up on a bus in Haifa, killing 15 and wounding 40.
The offensive did not stop. In March 2002 alone, 138 men, women, and children were killed by suicide bombers, and 683 were wounded.
In March 2002 alone, 138 men, women, and children were killed by suicide bombers, and 683 were wounded.The most atrocious of the attacks occurred on Passover, on the ground floor of the Park Hotel in Netanya, where a Seder banquet was being held for 250 of the city’s poor. A suicide bomber disguised as a religious Jewish woman entered the hall and blew himself up, killing 30 people — the youngest aged 20 and the oldest 90 — and wounding 143 others. George Jacobovitz, a Hungarian-born Nazi death camp survivor, was among the dead.
2002 was, according to Avi Dichter, the head of the domestic intelligence agency Shin Bet at the time, “the worst year for terror attacks against us since the establishment of the state.”
The Israeli intelligence community had come across suicide bombers before, but it had no solution for it. “What can you do against a suicide bomber when he’s already walking around in your streets looking for somewhere to blow himself up?” said Yitzhak Ben-Yisrael, the head of the Administration for the Development of Weapons and Technological Infrastructure.
Terrorism in general, and suicide attacks in particular, created a strange and frustrating situation within the Shin Bet and the Israel Defense Forces (IDF). They generally knew who was behind an attack but could not get to him deep inside Palestinian-controlled territory. “There was a sense of impotence,” said Giora Eiland, the head of the IDF’s Planning Directorate at the time.
Dichter, the Shin Bet director, had already presented a new strategy to Prime Minister Ariel Sharon during a series of meetings toward the end of 2001. At first, the ministers were hesitant. But at a meeting after the Haifa bus terrorist attack, Sharon whispered to Dichter, “Go for it. Kill them all.”
Since picking off individual bombers was ineffectual, Dichter decided to shift focus. Starting at the end of 2001, Israel would target the “ticking infrastructure” behind the attacks. The person who blew himself up or planted the bomb or pulled the trigger was, after all, usually just the last link in a long chain. There were recruiters, couriers, and weapons procurers, as well as people who maintained safe houses and smuggled money. They would all be targets.
Criticism of the targeted killings inside and outside Israel also made it necessary to justify each one, disclosing details of the victims’ misdeeds to establish that it had sufficient cause to respond. Gradually, what had once been considered highly damaging — acknowledging responsibility for an assassination — became official policy.
The IDF began putting out statements after each hit. Simultaneously, the Shin Bet, which had previously been reluctant to talk to the media, distributed excerpts of the relevant “red page” — summaries of material about a dead terrorist’s actions — to various news outlets. Israel was completely rearranging its communications policy — fighting, in effect, a propaganda war.
Explaining, even highlighting, what had long been state secrets required new language and new euphemisms. The deaths of innocent civilians during an assassination operation became known as nezek agavi — “accidental damage.” The words “assassination” or “elimination” or, perish the thought, “murder” were seen as inappropriate, said a senior official in the prime minister’s office. Finally, they picked the term sikul memukad — Hebrew for “targeted preventive acts.”
Although these euphemisms may have been helpful for public relations, it was not at all clear whether Israel’s new targeted killing campaign was legal. Not surprisingly, some of the families of the assassinated Palestinians and victims of “accidental damage” didn’t believe so. They enlisted the help of human rights associations and experienced Israeli attorneys to petition the Israeli Supreme Court to investigate and prosecute those responsible.
More surprisingly, the previous head of the Shin Bet, Ami Ayalon, whose overhaul of the intelligence and operational systems had allowed the new assassination program to begin, agreed with the dissenters. He argued that the Shin Bet was killing people without first considering relevant political and international events and that they failed to understand when an assassination would quell the flames of conflict and when it would fan them.
Shin Bet was killing people without first considering relevant political and international events and that they failed to understand when an assassination would quell the flames of conflict and when it would fan them.On July 31, 2001, an IDF helicopter fired several missiles into the office of Jamal Mansour, a member of the political arm of Hamas and a student leader at Al-Najah University in Nablus, in the West Bank. He was killed, together with one of his helpers and six other Palestinian civilians, including two children. Ayalon called the Shin Bet command and asked a top-level official there if he had gone insane. “Why, this man just two weeks ago came out with a statement saying that he supported a halt to terror attacks and that the peace process should be given a chance!” The official replied that they were not aware of such a statement. “What does that mean, you ‘aren’t aware’?” Ayalon fumed. “All the Palestinian newspapers covered it! The whole world is aware!”
“I call it the banality of evil,” Ayalon later told me, channeling Hannah Arendt. “You get used to killing. Human life becomes something plain, easy to dispose of. You spend a quarter of an hour, 20 minutes, on who to kill. On how to kill him: two, three days. You’re dealing with tactics, not the implications.”
IDF Chief of Staff Shaul Mofaz summoned the chief of the Military Advocate General’s Corps, Menachem Finkelstein, and asked him: “In the current legal situation, is it permitted for Israel to openly kill defined individuals who are involved in terrorism? Is it legal or illegal?” Finkelstein was stunned.“Do you realize what you are asking me?” he replied. “That the IDF’s advocate general will tell you when you can kill people without a trial?”
On Jan. 18, 2001, a top-secret legal opinion signed by Finkelstein was submitted to the prime minister, the attorney general, the chief of staff and his deputy, and the Shin Bet director. The document opened with this statement: “We have for the first time set out to analyze the question of the legality of the initiated interdiction” — another euphemism — “We have been told by IDF and Shin Bet that such actions are carried out in order to save the lives of Israeli civilians and members of the security forces. This is, therefore, in principle, an activity that leans on the moral basis of the rules concerning self-defense, a case of the Talmudic commandment: ‘He who comes to kill you, rise up early and kill him first.’”
For the first time, a legal instrument had been proposed for endorsing extrajudicial execution.
For Finkelstein, a religious man, it was a difficult moment. He was painfully aware that God prevented King David from building the temple because he had too much blood on his hands.
Finkelstein, who is now a district judge, wondered if he would be punished one day. “I submitted the opinion with trembling hands,” he told me. “It was clear that this was not a theoretical matter and that they were going to make use of it.”
