Dear friends,
I am a little late in posting this up due to being swamped with other work. In the last week, 43 elite Israeli Occupation Force officers from the IOF Intelligence Unit have issued a letter refusing to serve. The letter by the soldiers reveal the exact nature of Israel's control over Palestinian lives and the intelligence gathering (ie. spying) is not about ensure the security and safety of Israel or its citizens, it is about controlling and oppressing Palestinians, about turning them into collaborators. It is about undermining opposition to Israel's human rights abuses and oppression of the Palestinian people.
I have included below an interview published in YNET with some of the IOF Intelligence refuseniks, as well as Gideon Levy's article from Haaretz.
In solidarity, Kim
***
In letter sent
to PM and chief of staff, 43 officers, soldiers, graduates of the IDF's
elite intelligence unit, 8200, say they will no longer report for
reserve duty related to the Palestinian arena. 'No one asks himself if
the targets we collect for the air force justify ruining the lives of
1.5 million people,' they say.
Elior Levy, YNET, 12 September 2014
For D., it happened
after his discharge from the army, when he saw the movie, The Lives of
Others, about the Stasi, Communist East Germany's secret police, who
listened in on people and thus invaded their private lives. "I was
shocked," he says. "On the one hand, I identified with the victims, with
the persecuted side, who were denied rights that are so fundamental
that I take them for granted. On the other hand, I suddenly realized
that during my military service, I was on the side of the persecutors,
that we do the exact same thing, only far more efficiently."
The feelings of unease befell N. much earlier, already during the
course of her military service, when as a representative of Unit 8200
she witnessed an assassination operation in which the target was
mistakenly identified and a child was killed instead.
(Photo: Tal Shahar)
"In Dan Halutz's famous speech, with the controversial remark
about a light tap on the wing (following the 2002 targeted killing of
the head of Hamas' military wing, Salah Shehadeh, that also resulted in
the death of 14 civilians, E.L.), he essentially said to the pilots,
'You're ok, you don't see the full intelligence picture and you carry
out orders, and so you can sleep well at night,'" N. says.
"So the pilots aren't responsible for the killing because they
are simply carrying out orders, and the people at 8200, too, aren't
responsible for the killing because they carry out intelligence work
only and pass on the information. Everyone shirks responsibility. So who
then isn't supposed to sleep well at night? I think we all signed this
letter because we realized that we aren't able to sleep well at night."
Read full letter (Hebrew)
D. and N. are two of the 43 officers and soldiers serving as
reservists in the elite intelligence unit, 8200, who this week signed a
letter in which they declare they refuse to play any part in actions
against Palestinians and while therefore no longer report for reserve
duty in that arena. "Our consciences won't allow us," they wrote, "to
continue to serve this system and violate the rights of millions of
people."
This is the first time that reserve members of the unit have
drawn up a letter of refusal. "The general perception is that service in
the Intelligence Corps is devoid of moral dilemmas and functions only
to reduce violence and harm to the innocent," the letter reads. "During
the course of our service, however, we learned that intelligence is an
integral part of the military control over the territories. The
Palestinian population, under military rule, is totally exposed to
espionage and surveillance on the part of Israeli intelligence. In light
of this, we have come to the conclusion that as individuals who served
in Unit 8200, we, too, bear responsibility for the situation and are
obliged to take action. We call on current and future Intelligence Corps
soldiers, and the citizens of Israel at large, to sound their voices
against these wrongs and to work towards bringing them to an end. We
believe that the future of the State of Israel, too, depends upon it."
In their first interview, the reservists who signed the letter
offer a rare glimpse of the soul-searching they went through in the
framework of their service in the Israel Defense Forces' largest
intelligence-gathering unit, which has long served as a breeding ground
for the Israeli hi-tech industry and sends many of its graduates into
high-powered positions in the economy and society. The incidents they
speak about, they adamantly stress, have no connection to Operation
Protective Edge, in which they didn't take part.
Six members of the unit came to the interview, which took place at
the apartment of one of them, armed with written testimonies from other
signatories. The people behind the initiative note that most of those
who signed the letter do reserve duty in Unit 8200 and, from the point
of the view of the IDF, are available for call-up at any given time.
Some until now have exercised their refusal to do reserve duty under
various pretenses, during Operation Protective Edge too.
(Photo: Tal Shahar)
"The
unit is very much like a family, so the commander calls your directly
to see if you can come for reserve duty; there's no mediation by a
liaison officer with an official call-up," explains R. "We developed a
system of avoiding duty using different excuses every time – an exam or a
trip abroad. Thus, in essence, I avoided reporting for reserve duty
without declaring that I refuse."
They are very sure of themselves and the dramatic step they have
taken; nevertheless, the stress they are under is plain to see. Some
are studying towards advanced degrees; others have already found
positions in industry. They are the kind of people that Israeli society
is happy to embrace and take pride in when all is well. But now – as is
evident to them – they are about to pay the price.
"And that's the hardest part for me – that people will view what
we are doing as treason," confesses S., a reservist officer from the
unit and the highest-ranking signatory on the letter. "We all know that
such a step places us beyond the boundaries of the Israeli consensus.
Very many people support us and identify with us, but they fear the
reactions and the personal price they would have to pay, and so they
refused to sign," he says.
"I approached several people, and a good friend of mine from the
unit said to me, 'I agree 100 percent with what is said in the letter,
but I am afraid it would be detrimental to the career I am planning,'"
N. relates. "Even the person who told me about the initiative didn't
sign in the end because he got cold feet."
S. has no second thoughts about his decision, but is agonizing
about the potential implications. "We want to reach the Israeli public
and not to be shunned by it," he says. Our wish is for the message to be
understood, for it to be a statement by people concerned about the
situation here and who are doing it because we care and not for the
purpose of burning bridges. But I am sure there will be elements who
will exploit the letter and call it treason, just like they do these
days to anyone who defies the consensus."
The idea of the letter had been simmering in their minds for a
year. It started with a regular chat among members of the unit who
remained in touch after their military service. "After my discharge, I
felt like I had a Pandora's Box of thoughts," D. relates. "I started
talking to a few people and discovered that many feel the same. It was
all went ahead very cautiously. We spoke about our thoughts and the
questions, and we thought about courses of action that we could choose.
We began initially by formulating a declaration that we could stand
behind. It took a very long time and went through various versions.
"It was important for us for the letter to be precise and
focused so that it would win as widespread support as possible. Our
refusal to serve relates only to the Palestinian arena and not to the
other arenas with which the unit deals. Precisely because we think that
refusal is a very radical and drastic step, particularly in Israeli
society, it was important for us to make it clear in the letter that we
are refusing only because from a moral perspective we are unable to be a
tool to intensify the military control in the territories."
After they formulated the letter, they began to share the idea
with other people in the unit – friends to friends. Senior members of
the unit and its commanders were unaware of the initiative. "The
approaches were made in face-to-face encounters, with us beating about
the bust until we felt confident enough to speak about the issue
directly. It all went ahead discreetly so that it didn't reach those who
didn't need to know about it."
(Photo: Tal Shahar)
The testimonies paint a picture that may trouble a portion of the
public, but many will surely think that the actions of the unit are
legitimate, certainly during periods of armed conflict.
"A change came over me during Operation Cast Lead, in 2008,"
says N., an Arabic translator at the Unit 8200's base who is responsible
for the Palestinian arena. "When the operation started, something
didn't seem quite right to me. Instead of attacking rocket and weapons
dumps in the Gaza Strip, as defensive preparations for the campaign
against Hamas, the air force attacked a police parade. The strike
resulted in the death of 89 Palestinian policemen.
"I was just a regular soldier at the time, but I wanted the
chain of command to know that I viewed the action as immoral and
problematic, and not only because of the police casualties. These were
precious hours in which we were supposed to be performing our duty – to
prevent rockets from being launched against Israeli civilians – and this
action didn't serve that purpose. Israel's home front was left exposed
to rocket barrages, without the matter being dealt with as it should
have been. The officer in charge agreed to convey my thoughts up the
chain, but I didn’t get an answer.
"During the course of the operation, I worked with various teams
that were involved in gathering and translating intelligence
information about targets in the Gaza Strip. I remember the quiet that
befell the rooms in which we worked in the seconds after the air force
bombed the targets, a tense quiet with the hope for a hit. When a hit
was confirmed, applause and cries of joy filled the room. The identikits
that adorned the walls of the rooms were marked with Xs. I had a very
hard time dealing with the fact that no one was interested if anyone
else was hurt. No one stopped to ask himself if the targets we collect
for the air force planes justify the total destruction of the lives of
1.5 million residents of the Gaza Strip.
"During the operation, the air force attacked the home of Nizar
Rayyan (a Hamas leader in Gaza, E.L.), and 18 civilians were killed,
mostly members of his family. On another occasion, there was an
attempted strike against the leaders of Hamas' military wing. When the
air force reported human casualties, the room was full of tension and
expectation to see if the casualties were the intended targets of the
attack. When it emerged that they were others, cries of disappointment
echoed in the room – not because people were randomly killed, but
because they weren't the ones we were looking for. It's hard for me to
imagine what my base looked like during Operation Protective Edge; it
probably looked the same as it did back then – but only more
pronounced."
The assassination policy is particularly troubling to the
consciences of those who signed the letter due to the fact that mistakes
that occur claim the lives of innocent people, children too sometimes.
"We provide the intelligence for the operation, incriminate the
individual and pass on the information to the air force," N. relates.
"The unit always has representatives in the field, in the Judea and
Samaria Division and in the Gaza Division. Once, when I was the
representative, a suspect was identified nearby a weapons dump in Gaza
and we thought he was our objective. I remember the picture on the
screen – the suspect in an orchard, an explosion, the smoke settling and
his mother running towards him. We could then see that it was a child.
The body was small. We realized we had screwed up. It was quiet,
unpleasant. And then we had to continue. The mood was harsh, but there
were more things to do.
"My duties there were allegedly technical. You're in an office,
looking at a picture from a helicopter and the maps. It's very easy to
cut yourself off from it and feel distant. It wasn't my job there to ask
questions. They told me what they needed from me and that's what I did.
I don't even know if there was an inquiry into what happened."
Most of the people in the unit do what they are told without
asking questions. The signatories explain this by noting that from the
outset, already during their course, the trainees are led to understand
that when it comes to 8200, there is no such thing as a manifestly
unlawful order. Some of the signatories, who served as instructors,
conveyed this very message themselves, to their soldiers, despite the
fact that doubt had started to creep in.
"They constantly told us that we are not the ones who are in the
field, not the ones who are firing, and that it's not our job at all to
make that decision," A. says. "There is something of an alternative
mechanism in the unit that is called 'personal duty to report,' which
means that you must voice your concerns if something is troubling you;
but in some instances, they are clearly simply covering their asses."
The story of Second Lieutenant A. hovers constantly over the
conversation with the signatories. A. was a young officer in Unit 8200
in 2003, at the height of the second intifada, who refused to pass on
intelligence in preparation for an airstrike on a structure in the
southern Gaza Strip due to concerns that innocent civilians would be
harmed in the attack. The airstrike was intended to serve as a response
to a terror attack in Tel Aviv's Neve Sha'anan Square in January that
same year in which 23 people were killed. The target selected was a
structure belonging to Fatah. According to sources inside the
intelligence community, the instructions were to check when there were
people in the building, no matter who they were, so that the green light
for the airstrike could be given. The airstrike was called off due to
A's refusal. He was tried, stripped of his position and assigned to
administrative duties.
The incident led to a decision to conduct a lesson in all of the
unit's courses that is based on the military inquiry into the affair.
At the end of the lesson, the instructors lead the trainees to the
conclusion that there is no such thing as a manifestly unlawful order.
They discovered in retrospect that the inquiry was grossly deficient and
inaccurate: The findings note that A. was instructed to ensure that the
building was empty so that the airstrike could then take place. "Now,
when I know what really happened in that operation," N. says, "I realize
that all the discussion that took place about it with the trainees were
ridiculous."
"In 2003, at least there was the second lieutenant who refused
to participate in the operation," says A., one of the signatories on the
letter. "There were no such individuals in 2014."
The reservists who signed the letter aren't troubled only by the
unit's sterile approach to the assassination policy. According to them,
the Israeli public believes that intelligence is gathered only against
terror activists. They wish to cast light on the fact that a significant
portion of the targets they monitor are innocent civilians who have
nothing to do with military activity against Israel and are of interest
to the intelligence organizations for other reasons. These civilians
have no idea at all that they are intelligence targets, yet they are
treated, according to the signatories, no differently to the terror
elements, and the fact that they are innocent civilians does not
constitute a relevant consideration.
"I had a lot of trouble with the fact that various personal
details were noted as being of importance, details that could be used to
extort people and turn them into collaborators," N. relates. "They told
us at the base that if we uncover a 'juicy' detail, it is important to
document it – for example, financial stress, sexual orientation, a
severe illness on the part of the individual or a family member, or
medical treatment that they require.
"Once, they played me the recording of a conversation between an
Israeli security official and a Palestinian he was trying to recruit.
There's a part in which he says, 'Your wife's brother, he has cancer,'
and the Palestinian responds, 'So what?' And he says, 'You know, we have
good hospitals.' He was clearly offering the Palestinian something or
threatening him in some way.
"During my service, I collected, among other things, information
about innocent people whose only sin was that they were of interest to
the Israeli defense system for various reasons. If you are a homosexual
who knows someone who knows a wanted individual, Israel will make your
life a misery. If you required urgent medical care in Israel, the West
Bank or abroad, we looked for you. The State of Israel will allow you to
die before it allows you to leave for medical treatment without you
first providing information about your wanted cousin. Any instance that
leads to snaring an innocent individual who can be extorted in return
for information or in order to recruit him as a collaborator was gold
for us and for the entire Israeli intelligence community. In the
training course, you actually learn and memorize different words for
homo in Arabic."
The immense power in the hands of the soldiers and officers in
the unit, most of them in their early 20s, could also be – the
signatories to the letter say – the power to corrupt. "When I began my
duties, I was surprised by the scope of the responsibility that rested
on my shoulders," N. says. "I felt as if I had a say in important
matters. I could initiate things that had implications for the lives of
the Palestinians, and we exploit this influence that we have over their
lives.
Sometimes it involves real damage to the life of an individual,
to his soul. We're talking about extortion and it can screw up their
lives. The overriding approach in the unit is: 'Why not? If it's
possible, then go for it.' I thought it was crazy to be able to do
things I could. We're the bosses."
A number of the signatories note, too, that they found
themselves having to deal with information of a distinctly political
nature, and that this made them feel uncomfortable. "When I joined the
unit, I thought I'd be dealing with thwarting terror, with whatever is
necessary to preserve the security of the state," one of them says. "I
discovered during my service that a large amount of effort in the
Palestinian arena is directed towards things that are not related to
security. I worked on gathering information on political matters. Some
of them were related to objectives that could be seen as serving
security needs, such as undermining Hamas institutions, and others were
not. There were political intelligence objectives that don't even fall
in with the Israeli consensus, such as bolstering the Israeli position
versus that of the Palestinians. Such objectives do not serve the
security system but rather the politicians and their agendas.
"It was very hard for me and others in the department to have to
deal with some of the things we did. There was a particular project
that shocked us when we learned of it. It was clearly something that we
as soldiers are not supposed to do. The information was relayed almost
directly to political elements and not to other arms of the defense
establishment, and this made it very clear to me that it had very little
to do with security needs."
Another problematic issue that arises during service in 8200 is
the unit's spirit. Recordings of wiretapped conversations are kept to
play to trainees and soldiers, without any consideration given to the
fact that this constitutes serious ethical offenses. Sex chats, for
example, are a big hit in the unit.
"I heard about a department that once turned out all the lights
on the floor and played a recording of a sex chat at full volume –
several dozen people listening to a sex chat and everyone cracking up
with laughter," relates one of the signatories. "That's part of the
spirit. And I don't mean only conversations that are stumbled upon by
chance. Soldiers knew who to listen to and when in order to find them.
They would be passed on from one to the other."
Another graduate of the unit spoke of feeling bad knowing, in
precise detail, about the problems of all of the objectives. "It doesn't
feel good to freely speak and laugh about this information. We knew who
was cheating on his wife, with who and how often. There were
conversations about 'funny' medical conditions such as hemorrhoids. It's
part of the way of life in the unit and you call one another over to
listen. Photographs relating to objectives or other Palestinians are
passed around for fun. Family photographs are passed around and jokes
are made about how ugly the children are, and also private pictures that
couples have taken for one another.
"At a certain stage, I distanced myself from the whole story. I
also told the friends around me that it isn’t the right thing to do, but
everyone said that it wasn't hurting anyone. The commanders knew about
it – no question about that. I wouldn't even say they turned a blind eye
because it was clearly acceptable, that there was no problem with it.
The soldiers don't really bother to hide what they are doing."
Alongside their concerns about the public criticism they expect to
come under, the signatories are already dealing with internal criticism
among their families, who are struggling to come to terms with the
unusual step they have taken. "My family doesn't support my decision to
sign the letter," N. says. "They don't think it's the right thing to do.
They look at me like I'm some kind of radical who is doing something of
no relevance in a democratic country."
R. says his family members are primarily concerned about the
personal ramifications of the letter. "They are worried about me and my
friends and hope that we don't end up paying too high a personal price,"
he comments.
The official letter, which was sent Thursday to the prime
minister, the chief of staff, the head of Military Intelligence and the
commander of Unit 8200, bears the signatories' full names and ranks.
Publication of the letter, one can assume, will create much noise, and
may also raise questions and doubts in the minds of 12th graders who are
candidates for service in 8200. The signatories know this, but they
have no intentions of calling on others to refuse to serve in the unit.
"If someone asks me, I'll tell them about the journey I took and
my internal debate and how I feel about my service," A. says. "I will
give him the tools, but every future recruit has his own conscience and
he needs to make his own decisions. These are tough dilemmas, and anyone
who refuses to be recruited into the unit will have to pay a very high
price. On the other hand, he may be in the very same place I was in at
his age – believing that what we do is designed to minimize the killing
of innocent civilians. All I can do is present him with a different
perspective."
The
signatories stress they have no wish to establish a movement behind
them. They view the letter as a mirror held up to society. "All we want
to do is to turn on a warning light in the Israeli public – for them to
understand that we've been there, we've done it, and we can no longer
continue," says S. "We will agree to return to serve in the unit if we
know that the purpose for which we are there is self-defense, and not to
perpetuate the military regime."
****
The elite intel unit
veterans took a milestone in announcing they will no longer serve the
occupation. In their footsteps, perhaps, a few veterans of the Shin Bet
security service will also come forward and talk about what they did at
work.
Graduates of Unit 8200, the IDF's technological spearhead.
Photo by Moti Milrod
The 43 veterans of the elite intel unit who announced that they will no longer agree to serve the occupation have made a double contribution to Israeli society.
Like
other conscientious objectors, including soldiers and military pilots,
these members of Unit 8200 are courageous and moral. But their refusal
has an additional dimension, the likes of which have never been seen
before in Israel. They etched another scar into the ugly face of the
Israeli occupation, deeper than the ones that preceded it, because it
involves the darkest and most base sides of the occupation’s malignant
routine. In a healthy society, the reservists’ action and their
disclosures would have set off real shock waves. But in Israel, all the
systems of defense, offense and propaganda, of ridicule and denial, have
already been co-opted for the purpose of swiftly burying this important
letter by objector-spies.
They,
too, are among the finest of our youth, perhaps the best – almost like
the pilots. Unit 8200, the largest unit of the Israel Defense Forces,
has the right of second pick, after the air force, in selecting
recruits. Their image is sparkling – and their future is assured; tech
firms lie in wait for them. Their military service is free of risk and –
like the pilots – they don’t see their victims up close. Until now,
their service was nearly free of ethical qualms. They do not kill, beat
or carry out arrests, they are jobniks, desk jockeys with prestige, the
kind of child nearly every parent would want. Their weapon is their
intelligence, their computer and other sophisticated instruments; their
bunker is their office. A large part of their work, it must be stressed,
is vital and legitimate. And still, Unit 8200 is Israel’s Stasi.
In
contrast to the East German intelligence service, its Israeli successor
targets not citizens of the state, but rather the Palestinians who are
subject to its occupation. Anything may be done to them, using means the
Stasi would have envied. Like the Stasi, it involves not only
intelligence gathering and espionage, but also mechanisms to control,
extort and exploit an entire nation. This is based on erecting an
enormous army of collaborators and informers, recruited through the
vicious exploitation of their weaknesses, needs, illnesses and sexual
orientations.
Thanks
to Unit 8200, an entire nation exists without the right to privacy. The
great contribution of the new objectors is that they have told us about
this. In their Arabic studies, they were taught all the forms of the
Arabic word for “homosexual” – because they need it. They were required
to find out about the sexual orientation, health and financial problems
of tens of thousands of individuals. Perhaps there’s a nephew on
Israel’s list of wanted terrorists, perhaps a cousin who’s wanted for
questioning, offering an opportunity for extortion. Perhaps they’ll
agree to talk about the next-door neighbor in exchange for a
chemotherapy treatment; a report in return for surgery; snitching in
exchange for an income boost; a bit of information in return for a night
in Tel Aviv.
This
despicable collecting work – there’s no other way to describe it – is
done by soldiers of the Israel Defense Forces, and “every Jewish mother
should know” this. They collect important security information, and
alongside it also political and personal information, and they mark
targets for assassination. A few of them tried to talk about it over the
weekend, and the radio and television stations rocked with laughter.
The commentators vied with each other for adjectives: “trippy,”
“scandalous,” “negligible,” “spoiled brats” and, worst of all,
“politicos” and “lefties” – in unison, of course. No one came to the
defense of a group of people who, until Thursday, were a source of
pride. Not even activists from the LGBT community, who are called in
after any inappropriate comment about lesbians, gays, bisexuals and
transgenders. They have been silent about the persecution of their
Palestinian counterparts by the state, which brags about its enlightened
attitude toward the gay community.
That’s
Israel for you. As long as the members of Unit 8200 were up to their
arms in the filth of the occupation, they were considered principled
young men and women, and were respected. But as soon as they decided
they’d had enough, they became targets for ridicule and ostracism. The
step they have taken is a milestone. In their footsteps, perhaps, a few
veterans of the Shin Bet security service – the other pillar of the
Israeli Stasi in the territories – will also come forward and finally
talk about what they did at work. Their commanders already did,
partially, in “The Gatekeepers.”
The
military and media establishment will quickly stomp on the 43
objectors, but perhaps they will not be forgotten. From out of the
deepest darkness, they broke the silence.
