by Uzi Eilam
This state of affairs revealed a major difference between IDF and defense ministry policies. The ministry’s policy, which I understood and wholeheartedly accepted only later while serving as director of the R&D Unit, was to cultivate the technological and industrial capacities of the local defense industry. During my years as director of the R&D Unit, and later as Director of the Administration for the Development of Weapons and Technological Infrastructure (MAFAT), I came to the understanding that the best and safest way to develop the local defense industry was to entrust the development of advanced weapons systems to Israeli entities. However, during this early struggle between the IDF and the defense ministry I led the push for purchasing weapons from the Americans, while my former superior, Brigadier General Yitzhak Yaakov, now deputy chief scientist of the defense ministry, insisted that the tank fire-control system be developed by the Israeli defense industry, with the idea of assigning the primary role in the project to the Israel Aerospace Industries (IAI).
Operations Branch Chief Elazar and CGS Bar-Lev threw their full support behind our position to buy American. In the defense ministry Director-General Yeshayahu Lavi, former commander of the Communications Corps, and Tzvi Tzur, advisor to the defense minister, sided with Brigadier General Yaakov. Late June and July 1971 were filled with feverish meetings and discussions regarding whether to purchase the system from the US or to develop it in Israel. During our campaign to convince influential figures within the defense establishment we met with Major General Tal, Brigadier General Avraham Tamir, the Operations Branch assistant director for planning, and the director-general of the defense ministry. Finally, a meeting was scheduled to discuss the issue with Defense Minister Moshe Dayan on Friday July 30, 1971.
Operations Branch Chief Elazar told me that he could not attend the meeting in the minister’s office, and that the CGS and I would be the IDF’s only representatives. I decided to meet with the CGS on Thursday, the day before the meeting, for a relaxed discussion of the issue. I learned from his office that he was about to leave for the Tel Hashomer army base, and I waited for him outside his car. The moment it started to move, I opened the door and sat down next to him, my heart beating furiously. Bar-Lev looked at me coolly with an amused expression but did not appear to be particularly astonished. My audacity provided me with a valuable one-on-one meeting with the CGS. I spent the entire trip to and from Tel-Hashomer delivering a detailed briefing in preparation for the upcoming decisive meeting with the defense minister.
Moshe Dayan’s Ruling
The next morning I made my way to the defense minister’s office as if I was going into battle, my stomach hard and my heart racing. I knew I had done all I could to prepare for the high-level discussion, and I had no doubts about my ability to present the arguments in a persuasive manner. The meeting was attended by Defense Minister Dayan and Tzur, his advisor, Director-General Lavi, Deputy Chief Scientist Yaakov, CGS Bar-Lev, and myself. Yaakov began by presenting the defense ministry’s opening arguments, and I presented the arguments of the IDF. After I finished my presentation, the CGS also backed the IDF’s position, and announced that he would agree to limit the number of tanks deployed and to use the funds he saved to purchase and install the systems.
Lieutenant General Tzvi Tzur, who was typically calm and composed, was infuriated by my arguments, and I could see his face growing red with anger. Perhaps, he thought, I might convince Dayan, who might decide against the defense ministry‘s position. After everything was said and clarified, the defense minister began to sum up the meeting in his characteristically direct manner. With his one eye Dayan looked at Bar-Lev and me and said: I was convinced by your arguments, and I should be concluding this discussion in accordance with the position of the army. “However,” he continued, “if I do that, I will have to fire these gentlemen,” he said, pointing to Tzur, Yaakov, and Lavi, “and that is something I have no intention of doing...”
That was the end of the discussion, and it was clear to Bar-Lev and me that Dayan had thrown his support behind the defense ministry. Later, I learned that this was how Dayan handled situations where he had to deal with issues that did not interest him. What he really meant to say to us was: “You’re all big boys — solve the problem on your own.”
On the Sunday I was summoned urgently to the office of Operations Branch Chief Elazar, who told me that he and Tzur had met and were considering merging the Chief Scientist’s Office with the Weapons Development Department. In such a case, he asked, would I agree to serve in the joint unit as Brigadier General Yaakov’s deputy director? I told them that I saw no problem with the idea in principle, but that I would like to discuss the matter with Yaakov himself. The next day a lunch with Yitzhak Yaakov at the Harel restaurant near the Kiriya suddenly appeared on my schedule.
I then had another private meeting with Elazar to convey my affirmative response. Elazar already knew that he was about to be appointed as the IDF’s next CGS, and he was pleased at the increased chances of harmonious relations between the IDF and the defense ministry. The fruit of the merger was a new entity that was to be called the R&D Unit. In hindsight there are several questions that are still hard to answer in the never ending interactions between personalities and policy. Without the understanding between Tzur and Elazar after the impasse in the meeting with the minister, would the merger between the Chief Scientist’s Office and the Weapons Development Department ever have taken place? Was the understanding reached between Yaakov and me an important factor in the process? Both sides were in a problematic situation: the IDF because the defense minister ruled against it, and the defense ministry leadership because Dayan explicitly said they had erred on a professional level. These factors certainly forced Tzur and Elazar to accept that they had to find a way to prevent such confrontations in the future. By clearly indicating that he had no intention of dealing with these issues, Dayan pushed these two intelligent men towards a solution — the creation of the R&D Unit. Since then the body has changed somewhat, expanding into the Administration for the Development of Weapons and Technological Infrastructure, which is known by its Hebrew acronym, MAFAT. But the principle of soldiers and civilians working side by side, providing a bridge between IDF development projects and the defense ministry’s responsibility for creating technological infrastructure and overseeing development, is still in place today.
Building the R&D Unit — Boldness and Creativity
This was the beginning of an intense period of planning and action during which we worked to quickly develop the organizational concept of the new entity while preserving the civilian–military ratio between the personnel incorporated into various sub-units. We also needed to decide on the structure of the new unit and the way it would operate. Would it consist of autonomous units with specific technological disciplines, or would it be a matrix structure organization, in which many disciplines work together to address multidisciplinary issues? We also needed to consider the way the General Staff was structured and the fact that the General Staff would in practice serve as ground forces headquarters.
The Weapons Development Department was responsible for delineating development projects, based on an understanding of the needs of the different corps of the ground forces. It was somewhat different for the Air Force, the Navy, and the Intelligence Corps, and the R&D Unit needed to make preparations to provide them with technological support and the necessary assistance in handling contractual agreements for development projects. Purchasing and development — two clearly linked areas of activity — were then in early stages of development, and we needed to create the policies and organizational structures necessary for smooth operations in both areas. Foreign relations was another area we needed to start developing, not only in order to represent the narrow interests of the Weapons Development Department, but also to extend technological cooperation for the entire defense establishment. We also began paying more attention to issues of technological infrastructure, both in terms of
its relative prioritization compared to other issues and in terms of recruiting people to work on infrastructures.
Yitzhak Yaakov and I worked well together as a tightly-knit team. He was responsible for providing the experience, vision, and broad views that he had in such abundance. We needed to be sensitive about the delicate balance between the army and the defense ministry in all areas. We were open minded, and paid close attention to the positions of both sides in order to launch the vessel of the new R&D Unit on the stormy seas of the Israeli defense establishment. We also needed to address more detailed issues, such as standards and ranks, bringing in personnel from the military and civilian sectors, and external recruitment. Addressing all of these issues required the working space necessary to consolidate the Unit’s offices and facilities at the same location, or as close together as possible.
The Golden Mean — Between the General Staff and the Defense Ministry The Unit was up and running in record time. Within a few weeks it was already possible to discern emerging working styles, the Unit’s influence on administrative work, and its role in the decision making process.
The R&D Unit was established because of the dichotomy between the General Staff and defense ministry in the realm of research and development and was meant to prevent tensions like those that surrounded the tank fire-control system. However, even as the Unit was taking its first steps it was clear to us that, although the senior officials of the defense ministry were no longer part of the struggle, the IDF/defense ministry dichotomy had penetrated into the Unit and we often found ourselves mediating between the opposing views of the IDF and the ministry. In many cases we had to adopt a position on whether to purchase a specific weapons system or to develop it in Israel. We made such decisions with the help of a staff which was in some respects new to the world of R&D and wholly inexperienced when it came to relations between the army and the defense ministry.
David Elazar, the new CGS, chose Major General Tal as his second in command, transforming him into a key figure on the General Staff from January 1, 1972 onward. For Tal it was a return to the center of power within the IDF in comparison to his position within the defense ministry’s Tank Program Administration. After concluding his tenure as commander of the Armored Corps, Tal had dedicated all of his time towards developing the Israeli Merkava tank and was naturally appointed the first director of the Tank Program Administration. The establishment of the Merkava Tank Program Administration was an important stage in the program’s establishment as a permanent body within the defense ministry.
Confrontations regarding the desired traits of the new tank continued to plague the defense ministry, and Dayan was forced to hold a debate that was unprecedented in scope to decide between the differing approaches. The two-day meeting was attended by all Armored Corps commanders of the rank of lieutenant colonel and above, the generals of the General Staff, and senior commanders within the Ordnance Corps and the Quartermaster’s Branch. Moshe Dayan was accompanied by his advisor Tzvi Tzur, the director-general of the Defense Ministry, and his economic advisor Professor Pinhas Zusman. The minister had the patience to listen to the long technical presentations and the heated arguments. Of all the Armored Corps officers in attendance, only one — Avraham Rotem — had the courage to oppose Tal and to support the position of corps commander Avraham Adan.
Tal, who always regarded himself as the senior authority on tanks in the IDF, succeeded in retaining his dominant position and persuaded both Bar-Lev and Elazar, who were also past commanders of the Armored Corps, to adopt his concept. I was sorry to see Adan, who was extremely honest but decidedly uncharismatic, receive such a stinging defeat. Even Amos Horev’s experience, insight, and professional authority failed to withstand Tal’s persuasive attack. Dayan was left with no other choice but to sum up the two days of discussions by concluding that the Merkava project would go ahead unchanged.
Major General Tal established himself quickly and effectively in his new position of Operations Branch chief. However, it soon became clear, both to him and to others, that the IDF was more complicated and less controllable than he would have liked. One example was the Air Force where Tal couldn’t assert his authority. Benny Peled, who replaced Motti Hod as the commander of the Air Force, turned out to be a tough nut to crack. My relationship with Benny Peled and the rest of the Air Force command was pleasant and businesslike. I first met Peled when he was still a colonel serving as director of the Air Force’s Air Department and I was a lieutenant colonel serving as director of Branch 2. One day, we were both invited to a meeting with Operations Branch Chief Ezer Weizman on a sensitive matter that was in dispute between the Weapons Development Department and the Air Force. Peled presented the the Air Force’s position in his typically fluent and confident manner. When Peled finished speaking, Weizman turned to me and asked to hear what I had to say. Calmly and quietly, I presented the arguments I had prepared, one after the other, but I was not sure if they were convincing. Weizman, himself a former Air Force commander, turned to Peled after a few moments and said: “Binyamin, the boy’s right!” To his credit, Peled not only accepted Weizman’s decision but also complimented me on the way I presented my arguments. It was the beginning of a long relationship based on mutual respect and admiration, which lasted until Peled’s death in 2002.
It was difficult for Tal to accept us...trange new and active entity connected to the General Staff and the IDF on the one hand and the defense ministry and the defense industries on the other hand. What was difficult for Tal created difficulties for the Unit. Within the Unit we still needed to continue building sub-units while creating harmonious relations between the civilians and military personnel. We also needed to instill confidence in the professional departments, to support them, and to make sure we had selected the right people to direct them.
Cooperation in the Realm of Military Technology
The IDF and the Israeli defense establishment were technologically much weaker than technological superpowers such as the US, France, Britain, and Germany. One way Yaakov thought up to help create programmatic responses to future technologies was to establish the Center for Technology Analysis and Forecasting. It was a brilliant move, but took a long time to bear fruit. Dr. Shmuel Bar-Zakai, who had just returned to Israel with a doctorate from the United States, managed to captivate Yaakov, who chose him to head the new center.
Tel Aviv University provided a home for the new center and Bar-Zakai was awarded the rank of Adjunct Professor. As deputy director of the R&D Unit I participated in Yaakov’s working meetings with Bar-Zakai, and I was uncomfortable with the discrepancy between the topics that Yaakov wisely selected for future work and the hollow words of Bar-Zakai. Only when I replaced Yaakov as director of R&D was I able to work toward replacing Bar-Zakai. Tel Aviv University President Yuval Ne’eman and I agreed to send Baruch Raz, a young scientist from the university’s teaching staff, to Boston for two years of advanced training in technological forecasting at MIT. Two years later Raz returned, replaced Bar-Zakai, and focused the center, which still exists today, on a new path.
We needed to find new ways to close the technological gaps between Israel and the superpowers. In our favor we had the cumulative experience of two wars against Soviet weapons systems: The Kadesh Operation of 1956 and the Six Day War of 1967. This experience and the weapons systems that we captured attracted the Western countries with which we enjoyed good relations and served as a foundation for defense cooperation. The Western countries’ defense industries also went to great lengths to learn as much as they could about Soviet technology.
After the Six Day War the IDF was perceived as an impressive and victorious army, a factor that helped create increasingly close relationships between Israel’s military establishment and some Western countries. However, the Six Day War also had the opposite effect of alienating the IDF and distancing it from some of the Western powers, primarily for political reasons. This was why the British halted cooperatio
n with us on development of their Chieftain tank, forcing Israel to embark upon independent development of our own Merkava tank. The British development project had benefited from use of the desert terrain of the Negev as one giant testing area, as well as the extraordinary assistance of IDF Armored Corps and Ordnance Corps personnel under the leadership of Israel Tal, then commander of the Armored Corps, who regarded it as a project of the utmost importance. The Israeli role in the project was based on a British– Israeli contract for the provision of Chieftain Tanks, which were scheduled to enter service in Britain in 1967. The contract with Israel was annulled in 1969, and the British marketed the tank, which was resistant to dust and sand as a result of its development in the Negev, to Iran, Kuwait, Oman, and Jordan.
For us, the stinging British decision to sever ties military technological ties with Israel was a slap in the face. It taught us that we could not always count on continuity in military relations, especially when political considerations had the potential to suddenly halt processes that were already under way.
