UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

Los Angeles

History in the Public Courtroom:

Commissions of Inquiry and Struggles over the History and Memory of Israeli Traumas

A dissertation submitted in partial satisfaction of the

requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy
In History

by

Nadav Gadi Molchadsky

2015
 © Copyright by

Nadav Gadi Molchadsky

2015
 ABSTRACT OF THE DISSERTATION

History in the Public Courtroom:

Commissions of Inquiry and Struggles over the History and Memory of Israeli Traumas

by

Nadav Gadi Molchadsky

Doctor of Philosophy in History

University of California, Los Angeles, 2015

Professor David N. Myers, Co-Chair

Professor Arieh B. Saposnik, Co-Chair

This study seeks to shed new light on the complex web of relations among history, historiography

and contemporary life. It does so by focusing on Israeli commissions of inquiry that have taken

rise in the wake of major national traumas such as failed battles in the 1948 War, the Yom Kippur

War, and the assassination of the Zionist leader Chaim Arlosoroff. Each one of these landmark

events in the history of Israel was investigated by a state or a military commission of inquiry,

whose members and audience operate as authors of history and agents of memory. The study

suggests that commissions of inquiry, which have been studied to date primarily as legal,

administrative, and political bodies, in fact also operate as a public historian of a unique kind. In

this capacity, and unlike a professional historian, commissions are by definition expected not to

refrain from making ethical and legal judgments. On the contrary, judgment is, in the final analysis,

ii
the underpinning motivation for their historical inquiry. Moreover, commissions of inquiry, and

the way their work reverberates within the public sphere, and in professional and popular

historiography, allow us to focus on processes of collective-memory formation. While

commissions have the ability to shape conventional views regarding matters of vital public

importance, this ability is dependent on a wide range of factors, circumstances and their particular

admixture in the decades that follow the completion of the commission's work.

The case studies analyzed in the dissertation reveal the way in which Israeli society has

struggled to forge memories of—and historical judgments about—difficult chapters in the

country’s history. In the course of analysis, the dissertation also examines questions such as who

is understood to have the right to make historical judgments on matters deemed to be of vital public

importance? In what ways have commissions of inquiry contributed to the shaping and revision of

Israeli history and memory? What factors and circumstances have enabled or prevented them from

doing so? What light do they shed on social conceptions of the difference between historical truth,

political truth and legal truth, and how do such distinctions influence the work and deliberations

of commission members themselves? Through such questions, and by applying a comparative

analysis, the study seeks to open a vista into the ways in which a national society such as Israel,

processes and negotiates its past and its memory of it.

iii
The dissertation of Nadav Gadi Molchadsky is approved.

Lynn A. Hunt

Sarah Abrevaya Stein

David N. Myers, Committee Co-Chair

Arieh B. Saposnik, Committee Co-Chair

University of California, Los Angeles

2015

iv
For my parents,

Avinoam and Chaviva,

v
Table of Contents

INTRODUCTION....................................................................................................................................... 1
READING COMMISSIONS AGAINST THE GRAIN: ISRAELI INQUIRIES AND THE HISTORY OF JEWISH HISTORIOGRAPHY
................................................................................................................................................................................. 11
STRUCTURE OF THE DISSERTATION .......................................................................................................................... 21
GLOBAL TREND – ISRAELI PHENOMENON ................................................................................................................ 28

THE BATTLE AFTER THE BATTLE: NITZANIM FIGHTING AND REMEMBERING THE
1948 WAR .................................................................................................................................................. 33
INTRODUCTION ........................................................................................................................................................ 33
STIGMA .................................................................................................................................................................... 37
CONDEMNATION ...................................................................................................................................................... 43
THE BURSTEIN COMMITTEE ..................................................................................................................................... 50
KIBBUTZ COMMEMORATIVE ACTIVITY .................................................................................................................... 58
EPILOGUE................................................................................................................................................................. 70
APPENDIX A – THE COMBAT LEAFLET OF JUNE 9, 1948 .......................................................................................... 74

LIVING IN THE SHADOW OF SHAME: MASADA AND SHA’AR HA-GOLAN ......................... 76

INTRODUCTION ........................................................................................................................................................ 76
STIGMA .................................................................................................................................................................... 79
FIRST INQUIRIES....................................................................................................................................................... 88
The Inquiry of the Ha-Kibbutz Ha-Artsi Movement and Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir ................................................ 91
The Inquiry by Gordonia .................................................................................................................................... 93
The Shaltiel Committee ...................................................................................................................................... 94
LIMITING THE INQUIRIES’ REACH .......................................................................................................................... 103
KIBBUTZ COMMEMORATIVE ACTIVITY .................................................................................................................. 105
Masada .............................................................................................................................................................. 105
Sha’ar-Ha-Golan ............................................................................................................................................... 108
EPILOGUE............................................................................................................................................................... 115

THE AGRANAT COMMISSION REPORT AND THE MAKING OF THE ISRAELI MEMORY
OF THE YOM KIPPUR WAR .............................................................................................................. 119
FORWARD .............................................................................................................................................................. 119
INTRODUCTION ...................................................................................................................................................... 122
“WHAT YOU CALL A CONCEPT” ............................................................................................................................ 125
FACTORS AND CIRCUMSTANCES THAT ENABLED THE COMMISSION TO ELEVATE THE CONCEPT ........................... 132
Gradual Publication Process ............................................................................................................................. 132
The Mandate of the Agranat Commission and its Reduction ........................................................................... 140
HISTORIOGRAPHY IN THE SHADOW OF THE CONCEPT ............................................................................................ 147
ALTERNATIVE READINGS TO THE WAR (NOVEMBER 1973-MAY 1974) ................................................................. 155
EPILOGUE............................................................................................................................................................... 160

CASE CLOSED – AFFAIR OPEN: THE BEKHOR COMMISSION AND THE AFFAIR OF THE
ARLOSOROFF MURDER .................................................................................................................... 165
INTRODUCTION ...................................................................................................................................................... 165

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 THE FORMATION OF THE MAIN NARRATIVES ABOUT THE ARLOSOROFF MURDER ................................................. 173
Explanations and Alternative ............................................................................................................................ 173
No Proof – No Doubts ...................................................................................................................................... 175
Repressed Doubts ............................................................................................................................................. 180
A Legal Solution – A Political Entanglement ................................................................................................... 186
“THE COURT DOES NOT DEAL WITH HISTORY” ...................................................................................................... 189
“CHARMING AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS” ........................................................................................................ 197
MR. SPEAKER: THE TOPIC IS JUSTICE..................................................................................................................... 208
Between History and Politics ............................................................................................................................ 217
STEPPING OFF THE STAGE—REMOVING A BLOOD LIBEL ....................................................................................... 221
THE BEKHOR COMMISSION .................................................................................................................................... 229
Cain, Abel, Moses, and Arlosoroff ................................................................................................................... 232
The Commission’s Methodology ...................................................................................................................... 236
The Bekhor Commission Report....................................................................................................................... 238
What is History? ............................................................................................................................................... 240
POST BEKHOR—POSTMORTEM .............................................................................................................................. 248
EPILOGUE............................................................................................................................................................... 253

CONCLUSION ....................................................................................................................................... 255

BIBLIOGRAPHY ................................................................................................................................... 262

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List of Figures

FIGURE 1 - “STOCK AND WATCHTOWER SETTLEMENT:” THE ESTABLISHMENT OF SHA’AR HA-GOLAN, MARCH 21,
1937. IN THE BACKGROUND – THE GOLAN HEIGHTS (PHOTOGRAPHER: KLUGER ZOLTAN) ................................. 86
FIGURE 2 - SHA’AR HA-GOLAN, 1942 ........................................................................................................................... 86
FIGURE 3 - KIBBUTZ MEMBER, TIRTSAH BERGEL, VISITS IN SHA’AR HA-GOLAN AFTER THE BATTLE (JUNE 1948)....... 87
FIGURE 4 - JUNE 2001: INVITATION FOR THE “REMOVING THE MARK OF CAIN” EVENT. .............................................. 87
FIGURE 5 - THE AGRANAT COMMISSION IN ITS FIRST MEETING (SITTING FROM THE LEFT): YIGAEL YADIN, MOSHE
LANDAU, SIMON AGRANAT, ITZHAK (ERNST) NEBENZAHL, AND HAIM LASKOV. (PHOTOGRAPHER: YA’ACOV
SA’AR) ............................................................................................................................................................... 131
FIGURE 6 - AMAN CHIEF, GEN. ELI ZEIRA ................................................................................................................ 132
FIGURE 7 - THE BEKHOR COMMISSIONS IN ONE OF ITS SESSIONS ................................................................................ 232
FIGURE 8 - THE BEKHOR COMMISSION. STANDING (FROM THE LEFT): DAVID BEKHOR, MAX KENNET, ELIEZER
BERKOVITZ AND ALON GILON. .......................................................................................................................... 232
Photos are curtesy of the Government Press Office, the Sha’ar ha-Golan Archives, the Government Press Office,
the Israeli Defense Forces and Defense Establishment Archives, and Judge Gilon as detailed in the body of the text

viii
Acknowledgments

It takes a village to raise a child let alone to train a doctoral student. The long road toward

completion of my degree ends by writing these lines. Along the entire way I have enjoyed the

support of quite a few people who have followed me down the road, and helped me to pave it.

Each one of them deserves much credit. The responsibility for any error that might appear in this

study is obviously mine alone.

I was blessed by an incredibly supportive doctoral committee of four outstanding scholars,

teachers and educators. Each one of them has been an endless source of inspiration and pride.

Professor David Myers opened the gate to UCLA to me and led me to the finish line. In Mishnah

Avot (1:6) it says “Make yourself a rabbi and acquire for yourself a friend.” I originally followed

Professor Myers to Los Angeles to study Jewish history. Little did I know, however, that he would

soon become a teacher for life, a role model as a family man, a community leader and a mensch.

My enormous thanks and gratitude for him go beyond what I can express in words. My warmest

thanks also go to Nomi Stolzenberg, Tali, Noa and Sara, for their warm hospitality and much

generosity on so many occasions over the years.

A new and invigorating phase in my doctoral studies began in my second year in the

graduate program of the History Department, when Professor Arieh Saposnik joined the UCLA

faculty. What started as exciting informal discussions about the history of Zionism with an

“outsider” from the Near Eastern Languages and Cultures Department, soon led to close working

relations with a new co-chair of my doctoral committee. There was no other office on campus like

Arieh’s, which I used to visit in the most “Israeli” fashion. I showed up uninvited but was always

warmly welcomed. Campus did not look the same for me after Arieh left UCLA for a position at

Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, Israel. I was most happy and privileged to be able to continue

ix
working with him after his relocation. I authored the final sections of this dissertation under his

auspice at the campus of the Ben-Gurion Research Institute for the Study of Israel and Zionism in

Sede Boker. The days I spent there were an amazing professional and personal experience, also

thanks to the warm hospitality of Sara Saposnik, Halel, Neta, Ayana, and Luna.

I owe a profound debt to the two other members of my doctoral committee—Professor

Lynn Hunt and Professor Sarah Abrevaya Stein—who are, for me and for so many others, beacons

of excellence and professionalism. I am grateful for Professor’s Hunt critical reading, for the

lessons and opportunities she gave me as a student and as a teaching assistant, and for her ongoing

support in my attempts to reach out to the scholarly community beyond UCLA. Professor Stein,

who has followed my studies at UCLA since the beginning, helped me to set some of the corner

stones of my dissertation. I benefited dearly from her willingness and ability to listen to my ideas,

from her pragmatic approach, and from her idiosyncratic thinking. Her words of advice and

encouragement helped me to stay on track at quite a few junctions along the way.

Thanks are due to a number of UCLA units and staff, which enriched my intellectual

experience on campus, supported me financially, and led me through the maze of university

bureaucracy. First, the UCLA Department of History, its magnificent Student Affairs Manager,

Hadley D. Porter, and the former Graduate Counselor, Eboni Shaw. I attended numerous events

organized by the UCLA Center for Jewish Studies, and was fortunate to win its 2012-2013

Advisory Board Fellowship. I wish to extend special thanks to the director of the center, Todd

Presner, the Community Affairs Coordinator, Mary Enid Pinkerson, and the Assistant Director,

Vivian Holenbeck. An additional anchor on campus was the Younes and Soraya Nazarian Center

for Israel Studies. It was a pleasure to cooperate with its interim director, Neil Netanel, with his

deputy director, Maura Kleeman Resnick, and the Center Administrator, Jasmine Lin.

x
 In the course of researching the dissertation I relied heavily on the outstanding services of

the UCLA library and librarians. During the 2012-2013 academic year, I also used the library

services of Tel-Aviv University, Israel, which was my first academic home. This was possible

thanks to the warm hospitality of Assaf Likhovski and the Berg Institute for Law and History that

welcomed me as a visiting scholar. On other visits to Israel I benefited greatly from the kindness

of two family relatives—Tova Milo from the School of Computer Science of Tel-Aviv University,

and Hilla Milo of the Open University of Israel—whose access to academic libraries together with

their willingness to help with a smile was of immense help.

I owe many thanks to the following archives and archivists: The archive of the Jabotinsky

Institute in Israel; The Central Zionist Archives (Batia Leshem); The Israeli Defense Forces and

Defense Establishment Archives (Doron Avi-Ad, Avi Tzadok and Ifat Glinik-Arnon); The Israel

State Archives (Hlena Vilensky and Galia Weisman); The Menachem Begin Heritage Center

(Rami Shtivi), the Yad Tabenkin—The Research and Documentation Center of the Kibbutz

Movement (Aharon Azati and Yuval Ron); the archive of kibbutz Nitzanim (Nava Zelinger), and

the archives of kibbutz Sha’ar ha-Golan (Ziva Dror). To this list I should also add those who were

willing to share with me their personal experiences about the cases I was studying.

Writing a dissertation in a foreign language was anything but an easy task. Professor Myers

and Professor Saposnik put a lot of effort into polishing my English manuscript. I received further

assistance from Livia Goldenblatt, Dan Goldenblatt, Aaron Hass and Michal Lemberger. My

collaboration with Stephanie Chasin, who proofread several parts of the dissertation, was a lesson

in and of itself in academic writing. I also benefited from my work with Keren Gliklich and Hadas

Blum who edited the Hebrew article I published in 2013 about the Agranat Commission. The

chapter about the topic in this dissertation is basically an English version of that Hebrew article.

xi
 An additional major challenge I was facing during my years as a graduate student was the

geographic distance from my family. While I was at "the edge of the West," as the medieval poet

famously wrote, my heart was in the East. Here I will mention only a handful of relatives who

have a special interest in my professional path. First, my brother of many skills and talents, Yoav

Molchadsky, who assisted me over the years in so many ways. Since I was a child, I have observed

the endless activities of my uncle, Yigal Milo. His exemplary ability to plan complex projects,

execute them successfully, and present them to the world has been an enormous source of

inspiration, which helped me to complete my doctorate. Amir Milo has been one of my most loyal

readers and a partner for many brainstorms about past, present, and future affairs. He was also the

most frequent visitor of the family to my Los Angeles apartment and a companion on some of my

most enjoyable trips in California. Other cousins of mine—Hadassa Yovel, Ron Milo, and Yael

Milo—mean more than I can put on paper. Ron encouraged me to pursue graduate studies in the

States even before he did his post-doctorate in Boston. He was also kind enough to allow me to

draft some of the preliminary versions of the dissertation’s introduction at his office at the

Weizmann Institute for Science. I received much attention and affection from Tamar Avrahami

and the late Marik Omer who always found a particular interest in my work, and passed away at a

relatively early phase of this project. Two other relatives who passed away during my graduate

studies were my optimistic and resourcefulness grandfather, Zvi Cohen, and my beloved uncle,

Rabbi Yosef (Yossi) Molchadsky. The first embodied, in his own unique way, what the great

Jewish historian Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi called the faith of the fallen Jew. Yossi, on the other

hand, was a talmid haham who lived in the sea of the Talmud. The lessons I received from both of

them about Jewish history and culture were second to none. To complete this section I should also

mention Itamar, Tali, Aviv and Tomer-Zvi.

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 My warmest thanks and much appreciation also go to three Jerusalem friends. The

wonderful Jan and Amos Avgar have bestowed upon me much affection and support over the

years. Amos’ words of advice, his sense of humor and optimism pushed me to the finish line during

my time as both an undergraduate and a graduate student. Their neighbor from the other side of

town and the Israel Museum, Frau Ester Muchawsky-Schnapper, has been a wonderful friend for

many years now. Among the many good people I met in Los Angeles I would like to extent special

thanks to my good friends Yael and Danny Abiri, Aaron Hass, Kassem Nabulsi and Asael Papour.

Last but not least, my parents, Avinoam and Chaviva, whose endless love and support

follow me wherever I go. They know, more than anyone else, that my academic achievement is in

fact our achievement. It is to them that I dedicate this dissertation.

Nadav G. Molchadsky

Kfar-Sava, Israel and Los Angles, California, December 2014

xiii
Curriculum Vitae

Education
2011 – 2015  Ph. D. Candidate: University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA)
 Field of Specialization: Modern Jewish History, Israel Studies.
2008 – 2010  M.A.: UCLA, Department of History.
2003 – 2006  M.A. studies: Tel-Aviv University, Israel, Jewish History.
 Field of Specialization: German Jewry in the Modern Era.
1999 – 2002  B.A. (Magna Cum Laude): Tel-Aviv University, Political Science and
Jewish History. Dean’s Lists: Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences.
Publications
2013  “The Concept: The Agranat Commission Report and the Making of Israeli
Memory of the Yom Kippur War,” Iyunim Bitkumat Israel 23 (2013): 34-
64 (in Hebrew).
2008  Oren Nahari, Nadav G. Molchadsky and Omer Yigal, Israel - 60 Years &
Travels. Tel-Aviv: Mapa Publishers, 2008 (in Hebrew).
Lectures and Presentations
2013  “The Concept: The Agranat Commission Report and the Making of Israeli
Memory of the Yom Kippur War.” The 29th International Conference of
the Association for Israel Studies (AIS), University of California, Los
Angeles and the Association for Jewish Studies (AJS) 45th Annual
Conference, Boston, Massachusetts.
 Co-Organizer of and Participant at the Symposium ‘The Yom Kippur War
Forty Years After: New Insight, New Knowledge’, The UCLA Center for
Israel Studies.
2012  “History in the Public Courtroom: State Commissions of Inquiry and
Battles over the Israeli Past. The Case Study of the Bekhor Commission
into the Assassination of Chaim Arlosoroff.”
The Biennial American Academy for Jewish Research Seminar (AAJR),
New York University (NYU) and the 28th International Conference of the
Association for Israel Studies (AIS), University of Haifa, Israel.

xiv
Teaching Experience
2012  UCLA Department of History – Teaching Assistant: Introduction to
Western Civilization: Circa 1715 to Present, Prof. Lynn Hunt.
2011  UCLA Department of History – Teaching Assistant: Introduction to
Western Civilization: Circa 1715 to Present, Prof. Stephen Frank.
 UCLA Department of History – Teaching Assistant: Contemporary World
History, 1760 – Present, Prof. Arch Getty.
2010  UCLA Department of Near Eastern Languages and Cultures – Reader:
Zionism Ideology and Practice in Making of Jewish State, Prof. Saposnik.
 UCLA Department of History – Teaching Assistant: Introduction to
Western Civilization: Circa 1715 to Present, Prof. Lynn Hunt.
2009  UCLA Department of History – Teaching Assistant: Introduction to
Western Civilization: Prehistory to Circa A.D. 843, Prof. Patrick Geary.
Extra-Curricular Research Experience
2008 – 2015  Research Assistant to Prof. David N. Myers, UCLA Department of History.

Duties include source retrieval and annotation.

2010 - 2013  Research Assistant to Prof. Neil Netanel, UCLA School of Law. Duties
include source retrieval, annotation and translation from Yiddish to
Hebrew and English.
2009  Research Assistant to Prof. Sarah A. Stein, UCLA Department of History.
Duties included source retrieval and archival research.
Fellowships and Awards
2008-2014  Graduate Fellowships – UCLA Department of History and the UCLA
Center for Israel Studies.
2003 – 2006  Academic Excellence Scholarships – School of Jewish Studies and Jewish
History Department, Tel Aviv University.
2003  Academic Excellence Award – Bosch Foundation and Ignatz Bubis
Memorial Fund, Tel Aviv University.
2001  Professional Enhancement Grant – The German Academic Exchange
Program (DAAD). Intensive German Course, Göttingen, Germany.
Languages:  Hebrew – Native; English – Fluent; German – Good; Yiddish – Good.

xv
Note on Sources and Transliteration

The analyses of the historical debates discussed in this study are based on a myriad of primary and

secondary sources. It goes without saying that I relied heavily on inquiry reports. While some of

these were circulated widely years ago, I found others in several state and private archives. I have

used the good services of the Israel State Archives (ISA), the facilities of the IDF and Israel

Defense Establishment Archives (IDFA), the Central Zionist Archives (CZA), the Jabotinsky

Institute in Israel, the Menachem Begin Heritage Center, the Yad Tabenkin Archives—the

Research and Documentation Center of the Kibbutz Movement (YTA), and the archives of kibbutz

Nitzanim and Sha’ar ha-Golan. The material stored in these archives helped me to get a better

sense of the back channels of the commissions and the ways their work has reverberated in the

Israeli public sphere during their work and after the publication of their reports.

Most helpful was also a large corpus of professional and non-professional historiography

about the cases at hand. This literature enabled me to present the historical background of the

traumas; their cultural and scholarly representations, and the nexus between these representations

and the inquiries discussed. To get a better sense of public debates over Israeli historical memory,

I also used a large array of daily newspapers, and political, military and kibbutz bulletins. When

possible, I conducted oral interviews with people who personally experienced the events, and/or

took part in the work of the commissions of inquiries. For obvious reasons, most of the historical

sources I used are in Hebrew. References to such sources appear in English transliteration

according to the guidelines of the Library of Congress (without diacritic marks). To make the text

as clear as possible to readers who do not command Hebrew, I translated Hebrew terms into

English with the exception of some widely known Hebrew terms such as “kibbutz,” "Yishuv,"

xvi
“ha-Shomer ha-Tsa’ir” and “Mapai.” Unless otherwise mentioned, all translations in this study are

mine.

xvii
Introduction

This introduction is being written in the immediate wake of another round of violence in the Arab-

Israeli conflict. The summer of 2014 was particularly tragic due to fifty-one days of intensive

fighting between Israel and Hamas ("Operation Protective Edge"). Calls by Israelis to set up a

commission of inquiry to investigate whether the Israeli army (IDF) acted in accordance with its

ethical code, whether the IDF was properly prepared for the fighting, and whether the intelligence

corps were fully aware of the military challenges Hamas posed to Israel, were raised even before

the fighting was over. These calls predated demands by the international community to investigate

alleged violations of international law. In an interview given after the fighting by the former

director of the Israeli intelligence corps to the Israeli daily newspaper Haaretz, General (Ret.) Uri

Sagi recounted what he called the “well known joke about the days of Ashura—the same days

when Shiite believers whip themselves until they bleed—are in fact a typical Jewish holiday. By

the end of any war or military operation we [Israelis] have Ashura celebrations. This includes the

Agranat Commission [that investigated the Arab-Israel War of October 1973], the [2006] military

engagement in Lebanon, and more.”1

In recent decades, commissions of inquiry have become integral to Israeli political culture

not only in in the context of military affairs, but also in many other quarters in Israeli public life.

Every now and then, Israeli public figures, office holders, and ordinary citizens demand the

establishment of a commission of inquiry to clarify a matter considered to be of vital public

importance. Some of these calls appear quite esoteric—for example, the call by the Minister of

Culture and Sport, Limor Livnat, to inquire into the failure of Israeli athletes in the 2012 summer

1
See the interview journalist Dalia Karpel held with Uri Sagi, “Hakol Taktikah,” Haaretz, Weekend Section,
September 11, 2014.

1
Olympics Games in London.2 Other calls, however, touch on matters that dig much deeper into

the heart of Israeli society. What such calls share in common is a fundamental understanding that

commissions of inquiry, especially state commission of inquiry, are the most appropriate and most

effective state-mechanism to study the causes and consequences of national catastrophes.3

Moreover, according to this line of reasoning, commissions of inquiry are able to draw conclusions

and make operational recommendations to prevent further catastrophes from taking place in the

future. Whether these claims are true or false—a question that stands at the heart of many studies

about Israeli and non-Israeli commissions of inquiry—these official state bodies inquire only into

failures and mishaps, and not into successes to be celebrated. In response, former President Shimon

Peres urged Israeli leaders to establish "commissions of inquiry about successes, rather than

failures. We should learn from what we did right," and not just from what was done wrong.4

The large body of scholarship about Jewish collective memory pays much attention to the

response to traumas and atrocities. After all, a sense of existential fear has been integral to Jewish

collective identity for centuries.5 Ironically, this sensibility also permeated Zionist collective

2
The call of Minister Livnat to inquire into the would-be failure of Israeli athletes in the 2012 Olympic Games received
much public attention. See for example: [Link] (last visited on November 13, 2014).
3
The notion that Israeli and non-Israeli commissions of inquiry are powerful bodies stands in total contradiction to
another aspect of their public image. According to this image, office holders establish inquiries to delay or defuse
action. See Amy Zegart, “Blue Ribbons, Black Boxes: Toward a Better Understanding of Presidential Commissions,”
Presidential Studies Quarterly, 34:2 (Jun. 2004): 366. For one of many examples of the notion that Israeli state
commissions of inquiry are, in fact, the most appropriate state-mechanism to study a national tragedy, see, Omri
Assenheim, Zeelim: Ha-Trauma shel Sayeret Matkal (Or Yehudah 2012), 296-297.
4
Peres made this statement on June 21, 2012, following an inquiry by the state comptroller into the 2010 forest fire
on Mount Carmel, which claimed the lives of forty-four people. The event gave the impression that the fire department
was not prepared to cope with fires of this magnitude. See [Link] (last
visited on November 13, 2014).
5
As Hayden White famously noted in the context of nineteenth century historiography, historians tend to give special
attention to traumatic events. See Metahistory: The Historical Imagination in Nineteenth-Century Europe (Baltimore
1973). On trauma and atrocities as organizing principles of Jewish collective memory see, Esther Benbassa, Suffering
as Identity: the Jewish Paradigm (London 2010); David G. Roskies, Against the Apocalypse: Responses to
Catastrophe in Modern Jewish Culture (Syracuse N.Y. 1999); Alan Mintz, Hurban: Responses to Catastrophe in
Hebrew Literature (New York 1984); Salo W. Baron, “Ghetto and Emancipation,” Menorah 14:6 (1928): 515-526;
David N. Myers, “ ‘Mehabevin et ha-tsarot’: Crusade Memories and Modern Jewish Martyrology,” Jewish History
13:2 (Fall 1999): 49-64; Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi, "Toward a History of Jewish Hope," David N. Myers and
Alexander Kaye eds. The Faith of Fallen Jews: Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi and the Writing of Jewish History (New

2
memory, in spite of a national effort to leave behind such traditional Jewish ways of thinking.

Since the Holocaust, a sense of trauma and existential threat has continued to be a central

component of Israeli culture. Accordingly, there is a tendency to periodize Israeli history according

to traumatic events, such as wars.6 A vivid expression of this notion is found in a recently published

column by one of Israel’s leading journalists, Nahum Barnea:

Israeli society is riddled with the experience of trauma. Each sector carries on its shoulders

its own trauma, and sometimes even more than one trauma. Holocaust survivors went

through hell during the Nazi period, and were humiliated and discriminated against [by the

Sabras]; The second generation of Holocaust survivors absorbed the trauma from their

parents; The Arabs in Israel remember the Nakba, the [1948] War, the occupation, their

dispossession [from the land] and the animosity they encounter on a daily basis; Mizrahi

Jews remember the social gap [between them and Ashkenazi Jews], the desolation and

despair in the immigrant camps [during the first years of Israeli statehood] and the

prejudices against them [in the decades that followed]; the settlers who were evacuated

England 2014), 299-317. Also relevant here are quite a few studies about the topic of Jews and power such as the ones
by David Biale, Power & Powerlessness in Jewish History (New York 1986), Ruth R. Wisse, Jews and Power (New
York 2007); Derek J. Penslar, Jews and the Military: A History (Princeton 2013).
6
About Israeli historical memory of national traumas see, for example, Robert S. Wistrich and David Ohana, eds.,
The Shaping of Israeli Memory: Myth, Memory and Trauma (London and Portland OR. 1995); Yael Zerubavel,
Recovered Roots: Collective Memory and the Making of Israeli National Tradition (Chicago and London 1995); Ruth
Amir, The Politics of Victimhood: The Redress of Historical Injustices in Israel? (Tel-Aviv 2012); Idith Zertal, Israel's
Holocaust and the Politics of Nationhood (Cambridge 2005); Jeffery C. Alexander, Trauma: A Social Theory (Molden
2012), especially 97-117. It goes without saying that the Holocaust, its implications on Israeli society, and its cultural
representations in Israeli culture have attracted much public and scholarly attention. Some of the many studies about
the topic are Tom Segev, The Seventh Million: The Israelis and the Holocaust (New York 1993); Moshe Zuckerman,
Shoha in the Sealed Room: The Holocaust in Israeli Press During the Gulf War (Tel Aviv 1993), and ibid, Leave my
Holocaust Alone: The Impact of the Holocaust on Israeli Cinema and Society (Jerusalem 2002); Anita Shapira,
"Ha'shoah: Zikaron Perati ve-Zikaron Tsiburi" in ibid, New Jews Old Jews (Tel-Aviv 1997), 86-104; Dina Porat, The
Smoke-Scented Coffee: The Encounter of the Yishuv and Israeli Society with the Holocaust and its Survivors (Tel-
Aviv 2011). Also relevant here is Marianna Ruah-Midbar and Adam Klin-Oron, "Jew Age: Jewish Praxis in Israeli
New Age Discourse," Journal of Alternative Spiritualties and New Age Studies 5 (2010), 36. About the periodization
of Israeli history see, Yechiam Weitz, “Kets ha-reshit – Levirur ha-Musag Reshit ha-Medinah,” ibid, ed., From Vision
to Revision: A Hundred Years of Historiography of Zionism (Jerusalem 1997), 235-257 and Zeev Tsahor, “Me’ever
le-Dimdumei ha-Ethosim ha-Meyasedim,” Anat Kurz, ed., Thirty Years Later (Tel-Aviv 2004), 99-106.

3
 from the Rafah area following the [1979] peace [accords] between Israel and Egypt, and

from the northern parts of the Gaza strip during the [2005] disengagement period live the

pain of their displacement; the immigrants from Russia [who arrived in the country in the

1990s] remember the humiliations and the disdain for their heritage; Ultra-orthodox Jews

remember the hatred of secular Jews; the latter remember the religious exclusion; the right

[political wing] remembers the hatred of the left during the days of the Arlosoroff murder

[1933]; the left remembers the hatred of the Right in the days of the murder of [Prime

Minister Yitzhak] Rabin [in 1995]. There are many reasons for agony in Israel. The Yom

Kippur War [of October 1973] is one among many reasons… Any [historical] baggage

Israelis carry on their back ought to be treated with much respect. But the real test lies in

the way [Israelis] cope with this baggage, and in their ability to look forward—what are

the lessons that society learns, that people learn from past mistakes, and how they

rehabilitate themselves from them.7

The timing of the publication of this column on Yom Kippur of 2013 was not accidental.

According to Jewish tradition, Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) is an occasion for self-

reflection. Yom Kippur 2013 marked the fortieth anniversary of the Arab-Israeli War of October

1973 (“The Yom Kippur War”), which is widely viewed in Israel as the greatest national trauma

in the history of the country, second only to the Holocaust. Although one could surely add

additional traumas to Barnea’s list, in this context it is more important to draw attention to the

comment with which he concludes his column, and to an additional point that he did not make.

Interestingly, almost every one of the traumas mentioned in the column led to the establishment

of a state commission of inquiry, or commission of some other kind (e.g. military or

7
Nahum Barnea, “Lamut be-‘ad Artsenu,” Yediot Ahronot (Yom Kippur Section), September 13, 2013, 2.

4
parliamentary), which are generally accepted in Israel as a means to process process major national

traumas and disasters.

By and large, commissions throughout the world tend to fall into one of two categories.

The first type of commissions is future-oriented and examines social phenomena with the aim of

devising means to prevent crime, violence, or other undesirable behaviors. Other commissions

study traumatic events from the distant or recent past, such as wars, political assassinations, and

historical injustices. 8 In spite of the differences that set the two models of commissions apart from

one another, both types are expected to restore public trust in the executive branch, which is

responsible for the matters under investigation.9

Existing scholarship on commissions of inquiry points to three main functions by which

inquiries fulfill, or seek to fulfill, their social-political role. The first function is administrative

(policy-oriented) by nature, and casts commissions in the position of advisory bodies. This means,

in practice, that commissions seek to draw conclusions and make operational recommendations to

the executive branch in an attempt to better prepare for future challenges, and to try to prevent

repetition of past mistakes. The second function commissions of inquiry perform is legal by nature,

making personal recommendations about the responsibility of office holders who have failed to

carry out their public duties. In so doing, inquiries protect public ethics and operate in a way that

is reminiscent of courts. However, unlike adjudication before a court, which seeks to resolve

disputes among individuals or between the individual and the state, a commissions of inquiry's

basic function is to clarify facts—a function that relies on historical research. Commissions of

8
Jonathan Simon, “Parrhesiastic Accountability: Investigative Commissions and Executive Power in an Age of
Terror,” The Yale Law Journal 114:6 (2005), 1419-1457.
9
See Avigdor Klagsbald, Tribunals of Inquiry (Nevo 2001); Yehouda A. Shenhav and Nadav Gabay, “Managing
Political Conflicts: The Sociology of State Commissions of Inquiry in Israel,” Israel Studies 6:1 (Spring 2001), 126-
156, cf. Mordechai Kremnitzer, "The Landau Commission Report – Was the Security Service Subordinated to the
Law, or the Law to the "Needs" of the Security Services?," Israel Law Review 23 (1989), 216-279.

5
inquiry are, therefore, not legal bodies in a complete sense, but rather quasi-legal bodies that

operate in the twilight zone between the legal world and historical investigation for the sake of

present and future challenges. The third field in which commissions of inquiry function is political

by nature. State officials normally establish inquiries following the demands of certain

constituencies to insure that office holders are held accountable for their actions and non-actions.

Accordingly, scholars of commissions have paid much attention to the impact that inquiries have

had on the political systems of their countries, as well as to factors and circumstances that lead

politicians to set them up or to abstain from doing so. It goes without saying that these three aspects

in the commissions’ work—the administrative, quasi-legal, and political—are intertwined. This

also explains why some scholars of commissions of inquiry have underscored the difficulty in

defining these bodies.10 In any event, commissions of inquiry should be looked at as part of a wider

socio-political process of processing and managing national mishaps or traumas.11

10
See, for example, Zegart, “Blue Ribbons, Black Boxes,” 374, and compare to Priscilla B. Hayner, Unspeakable
Truths: Transitional Justice and the Challenge of Truth Commissions (New York and London 2012), 10, and Allen
Peachment in ibid, ed., Years of Scandal: Commissions of Inquiry in Western Australia 1991-2004 (Crawley, W.A.
2006), xx-xxi). For useful definitions of commissions of inquiry see, Gerald Rhodes, Committees of Inquiry (Great
Britain 1975), 34; Raanan Sulitzeanu-Kenan, “Reflection in the Shadow of Blame: When do Politicians Appoint
Commissions of Inquiry?” British Journal of Political Science 40:3 (2010): 615; and Denise E. Bellamy in the 2005
Toronto Computer Leasing Inquiry Report:
[Link] (last visited on
November 13, 2014).
11
This paragraph is a synthesis of quite a few studies that examine the work of Israeli and non-Israeli commissions of
inquiry. The scholarly corpus on the topic is quite large. The following are, therefore, just a handful of major studies
on which I have relied: Cyril Salmon, Tribunals of Inquiry (Jerusalem 1967); Gerald E. Le Dain, "The Role of the
Public Inquiry in our Constitutional System," in Jacob S. Ziegel, ed. Law and Social Change (Toronto 1973), 79-101;
Zeev Segal, "Va'adat Hakirah mi-Koah Hok Va'adot Hakirah, 5729-1968: Ma'amadan ha-Konstitutsiyoni u-Mivham
ha-Legitimiyut li-Fe'ulatahm" Mehkare Mishpat 3 (1984): 199-246; Yitzhak Zamir, "Va'adat ha-Hakirah min ha-
Behinah ha-Mishpatit," Ha-Peraklit 35:3 (1983), 323-332; Dominic Elliott and Martina McGuinness, "Public Inquiry:
Panacea or Placebo?" Journal of Contingencies and Crisis Management 10:1 (March 2002): 14-25; Stephen Sedley,
"Public Inquiries: A Cure or a Disease?" The Modern Law Review 52:4 (Jul. 1989): 469-479; George T. Sulzner, "The
Policy Process and the Uses of National Governmental Study Commissions," The Western Political Quarterly 24:3
(Sep. 1971): 438-448; Nadav Gabay, The Political Origins of Social Science: The Cultural Transformation of the
British Parliament and the Emergence of Scientific Policymaking, 1803-1857 (PhD diss., University of California,
San Diego, 2007); Kenneth Kitts, Presidential Commissions & National Security: The Politics of Damage Control
(Boulder, CO 2006); Raanan Sulitzeanu-Kenan, “If they get it Right: An Experimental Test of the Effects of the
Appointment and Reports of UK Public Inquiries,” Public Administration 84:3 (2006): 623–653; D. H. Borchardt,
Commissions of Inquiry in Australia: A Brief Survey (Melbourne 1991); Ayelet Harel-Shalev, The Challenge of

6
 This dissertation relies heavily on existing scholarship about commissions of inquiry from

Israel and other countries. Nevertheless, the study focuses on a fourth function inquiries perform,

or are expected to perform, and that has received surprisingly little scholarly attention—a lacuna

that the dissertation seeks to fill. Commissions of inquiry produce histories of landmark events in

their countries' pasts in an attempt to enable society to process and cope with them. Their official

state narratives are applied histories, which, at least on paper, are intended to have a therapeutic

effect. The authoring of a historical narrative about a matter of “vital public importance” is part

and parcel of any inquiry which amalgamates findings, conclusions, and recommendations.12 The

Winograd Commission, which investigated Israel’s military engagement in Lebanon 2006 (known

in Israel as “the Second Lebanon War”) made this point clearly:

We see our role here neither as history writing nor as commentators of the Second Lebanon

War . . . We have focused on the facts related to the topics of our inquiry and analysis, as

well as on issues about which we decided to draw conclusions. . . [W]e describe the

evidence we found; the things that were said, and the decisions that were made, without

"color" or interpretation. Our goal has been to allow the source material to speak for itself.

. . We differentiated rigorously between things said in real time, and estimations made in

retrospect. At the same time, it goes without saying that making thousands of pages and

documents, minutes and testimonies into one "story" requires editing, and while such

Sustaining Democracy in Deeply Divided Societies: Citizenship, Rights, and Ethnic Conflicts in India and Israel
(Lanham, Md. 2010); Yehezkel Dror, Be Our Leader! A Guide for Perplexed Jewish-Zionist Foundational Leaders
(Tel-Aviv 2011), and other studies mentioned in the body of this study in general, and in the introduction in particular.
12
According to Section 1 of the Israeli Commissions of Inquiry Law, 5729-1968: “When it appears to the Government
that a matter exists which is at the time of vital public importance and requires clarification, it may decide to set up a
commission of inquiry which shall inquire into the matter and shall make a report to it.” Under certain conditions, the
Knesset State Control Committee may also establish a state commission of inquiry. An English translation of the law
is available in Laws of the State of Israel, vol. 23 (Jerusalem 1968), 32-39. The most comprehensive study about this
law is by Klagsbald, Tribunals of Inquiry.

7
 editing is essential, it is dependent on the goals of the narrative, which are the fulfillment

of the commissions' assignments.13

This quote throws a spotlight on a number of methodological issues. While not using the language

of professional historians, the commissioners indicate here that they are at least partly alert to

potential flaws in their historiographical work, such as anachronism and backshadowing.14 On the

other hand, the commissioners seem to insist on their ability to write an objective, factual narrative,

namely to capture history “as it actually was," to borrow Ranke's charged words. Not surprisingly,

later in the report they make a counter argument.15

History by commissions of inquiry is applied history that falls into the category of history

of the present, that is, history that “deals with the recent past, the one for which there are still living

actors. . . [it is] the history of a past which is not yet dead, which is still borne in the speech and

experience of living individuals, and thus a past consisting of active an uniquely vital memories.”16

In addition to the risk of anachronism, history by commission of inquiry also carries the potential

13
Va’adah li-Vedikat eru`e ha-Ma`arakhah bi-Levanon 2006: Din ve-Heshbon Sofi, 2008 (hereafter, the Winograd
Report), 79 and compare to 40, 54, 61 and 70. The report is available online at: [Link] (last visited
on November 17, 2014).
14
On theoretical discussions about the danger of anachronism (hindsight) in the work of Israeli commissions of
inquiry, see the piece by Yisrael Lieblich, “Va’adat Hakirah min ha-Ebet ha-Psichologi o—ha-Dalut she-
baretrospektivah,” Hapraklit 37:3 (1987): 417-423, and Klagsbald, Tribunals of Inquiry, 338-340. A number of high-
ranking Israeli officers, who were harshly criticized by Israeli state and governmental commissions of inquiry, accused
the commissions of anachronism. General Rafael Eitan made this point in the context of the Kahan Commission,
which investigated the 1982 massacre in the refugee camps of Sabra and Shatilia. See The Beirut Massacre: The
Complete Kahan Commission Report with an introduction by Abba Eban (Princeton 1983) and compare to Rafael
Eitan, Mitsnah Reviʻi Niftah (Tel Aviv 2001). General Dani Halutz raised allegations regarding the alleged
anachronistic approach of the Wingorad Commission. See his book Straightforward (Tel Aviv 2010), 360-361, 497,
506, 512. On anachronism and the Agranat Commission see, Malcolm Gladwell, "Connecting the Dots: The Paradoxes
of Intelligence," ibid, What The Dog Saw and other Adventures (New York 2009.), 244-263.
15
The Winograd Report, 40, 305 fn. 42, 360, 417, and compare to the Israeli state Commission of Inquiry that
investigating the Disappearance of Yemenite Children between 1948 and 1954, Vaʻadat ha-hakirah ha-Mamlakhtit
be-ʻInyan Parashat Heʻalmutam shel Yeladim mi-ben ʻOle Teman ba-Shanim 1948-1954 (Jerusalem 2001), 287
(hereafter, the Cohen-Kedmi Commission).
16
Here I have borrowed the definition by Henry Rousso who studies contemporary French historical memory (not
necessarily in the context of commissions of inquiry). See ibid, The Haunting Past: History, Memory, and Justice in
Contemporary France (Philadelphia 1998), 25, 33. Also relevant here is the piece by Michael Schudson, “The Present
in the Past Versus the Past in the Present,” Communications 11:2 (1989): 105-113.

8
for teleology and Whig-style historical interpretation, which bolster the very political system that

set up the inquiry in the first place. Whether commissions of inquiry do, in fact, write anachronistic

history to solidify the political status of public figures is an open question. According to some

historical readings, which are in themselves open for interpretation, a few Israeli commissions did

exactly that.17 Either way, commissions author present-minded histories not just out of intellectual

curiosity, but also for actual social and political needs which demonstrate Edward Freeman's

famous saying that "history is past politics and politics is present history." 18 The boundaries

between past and present in the work of commissions of inquiry are, therefore, not necessarily self-

evident since their work is present and future focused.

Commissions of inquiry expose the complex web of relations between history,

historiography, and contemporary life, which is the principal focus of this study. More specifically,

this study presents the work of commissions of inquiry as part of a wider public attempt to reach

a sense of historical truth regarding matters of vital public importance. Commissions of inquiry

engage in their task in which differing representations of a given event vie for legitimacy and

authenticity.

The lens of commissions of inquiry focuses on the processes of collective-memory

formation, and the ways in which Israeli society and polity have processed, negotiated, and re-

negotiated a number of national traumas embedded in the country’s recent past.19 Two of the main

17
The term “Whig-style historical interpretation” is borrowed from Herbert Butterfield, The Whig Interpretation of
History (London 1931). For Claims regarding teleological readings of Israeli commissions of inquiry see note 14
above. Also relevant in this context is Nehemia Shtrasler, Don't Let Them Fool You (Or Yehuda 2014), 109-111.
18
For more about Freeman’s saying and his historiographical approach see, J. W. Burrow, Victorian Historians and
the English Past (Cambridge and New York 1981), 163-164 and Gertrude Himmelfarb, The New History and the Old
(Cambridge MA 1987 ), 149.
19
The scope of the scholarship about collective memory and the ways societies remember is enormous. To mention
just a few of many studies about these topics see the landmark book by Maurice Halbwachs, On Collective Memory,
trans. and ed. by L. A. Coser (Chicago 1992 [1925]); Jeffrey K. Olick, Vered Vinitzky-Seroussi, Daniel Levy, eds.
The Collective Memory Reader (Oxford New York 2011); Paul Connerton, How Societies Remember (Cambridge and
New York 1989); John Bodnar, Remaking America: Public Memory, Commemoration, and Patriotism in the

9
questions that stand at the core of this study are 1) how do Israelis forge or seek to forge

metanarratives of landmark events in the history of the country, and 2) what role did commissions

of inquiry play in the process? The study also seeks to illuminate major factors and circumstances

that enabled specific commissions of inquiry to function as effective agents of memory, that is to

say, to render an enduring impact on Israeli historical memory.20

This study suggests that commissions do have the ability to shape conventional views

regarding matters of vital public importance. Nevertheless, the prospect for a given commission

of inquiry to become an effective agent of collective memory is highly dependent on a wide range

of factors and circumstances in the decades that follow the completion of the commission's work.

Commissions have no control over some of these factors, such as the timing of their establishment,

their letters of appointment, and the activity (or lack thereof) of agents of memory who find a

particular interest in the topic of the investigation in the years that follow its completion. On the

other hand, commissions are free to decide how to interpret their mandates, what topics they wish

to focus on, what topics to devote less attention to or shunt aside, and whether their reports should

be kept confidential or made open to the public. As we shall see, such factors play a crucial role in

the ability of commissions of inquiry to function as effective agents of historical memory.

With regard to a commission's ability to influence national historical memory, this study

suggests a threefold typology:

Twentieth Century (Princeton NJ 1992); Michael Schudson, Watergate in American Memory: How we Remember,
Forget and Reconstruct the Past (New York 1992); Efrat Kantor, “Inscribing Their Praise”: The Collective Memory
of Hakibutz Hameuchad – Its Formation and Essential Components (Sede Boker 2007).
20
About different kinds of agents of memory, such as the media, and their ability to leave a lasting imprint on the
collective memory of their countries see, Gary Alan Fine Difficult Reputations: Collective Memories of the Evil, Inept,
and Controversial (Chicago and London 2001); Jill A. Edy, Troubled Pasts: News and the Collective Memory of
Social Unrest (Philadelphia 2006); Gladys Engel Lang and Kurt Lang, Etched in Memory: The Building and Survival
of Artistic Reputation (Chapel Hill and London 1990); Vered Vinitzky-Seroussi, Yitzhak Rabin’s Assassination and
the Dilemmas of Memory (Albany 2009); Motti Neiger, Oren Meyers, and Eyal Zandberg, eds., On Media Memory:
Collective Memory in a New Media Age (New York 2011), 1-24.

10
 1) Commissions that wittingly or unwittingly are able to shape their historical

narratives into national metanarratives.

2) Commissions whereby the publication of their reports mark the beginning of a

prolonged, systematic and effective commemoration process.

3) Commissions of inquiry that are unable to leave an enduring impact on the

national historical memory.

To complicate this typology, one should also differentiate between commissions that delve into

the history and historiography of events that happened decades earlier and commissions that are

set up in the immediate wake of the events that gave rise to the inquiries.

The cases the study focuses on are national catastrophes from Israeli’s recent past, such as

failed battles in the 1948 War, the Yom Kippur War, and the assassination of the Zionist leader

Chaim Arlosoroff (1899-1933). Each one of these landmark events in the history of the country

was investigated by at least one state or military commission of inquiry, whose members and

audience operated as authors of history and potential agents of memory.

Reading Commissions against the Grain: Israeli Inquiries and the History of Jewish
Historiography

This study of commissions of inquiry and processes of collective memory formation originated

out of my intellectual curiosity about the way in which historians contributed to Jewish perceptions

of the past. I am especially intrigued by what seems to be a substantial gap between two common

wisdoms in the study of modern nationalism and Jewish memory. According to the first notion, a

central factor of a nation-building project is the creation of a national metanarrative.21 According

21
See, for example, Homi K. Bhabha, ed., Nation and Narration (London and New York 1990), Eric J. Hobsbawm
and Terence Ranger, ed., The Invention of Tradition (New York 1992); Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities:

11
to this line of reasoning, historians, à la Jules Michelet, Leopold von Ranke, and the Jerusalem

scholars, played a major role in the creation of the national traditions of their countries.

Interestingly, quite a few scholars of Jewish history, on the other hand, stress the relatively

marginal role Jewish historians played in the formation of Jewish collective memory.22

A landmark study in the field of Jewish history and memory is Zakhor: Jewish History and

Jewish Memory by Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi.23 In this celebrated study, Yerushalmi suggests a

dichotomy between Jewish memory, which for centuries was transmitted by literary, liturgical,

and communal means, and modern critical history, which originated in the first decades of

nineteenth-century Germany. According to Yerushalmi, the rise of the Science of Judaism

(Wissenschaft des Judentums) expressed the “faith of fallen Jews,” who were beholden to Jewish

history but divorced from Jewish memory.24 While traditional Jews saw their past through the lens

of memory, for which all events are cyclical recurrences of ancient archetypes, modern historical

thinking emphasized the particularity of different historical events. According to Yerushalmi, the

Science of Judaism "originated not as scholarly curiosity, but as ideology, one of a gamut of

responses to the crisis of Jewish emancipation and the struggle to attain it."25 Revolutionary as it

was, however, in the early decades of the nineteenth century, this brand of academic Jewish

historiography, like its contemporary heirs, was not an effective means for forging a modern

Reflections on the Origins and Spread of Nationalism (London 1991), and Ernest Gellner, Nation and Nationalism
(Ithaca NY 1983).
22
See, for example, Derek J. Penslar, Israel in History: The Jewish State in Comparative Perspective (New York and
London 2007), 49; Tom Segev, The New Zionists (Jerusalem 2001), 109; Anita Shapira, Jews, Zionists and in Between
(Tel-Aviv 2007), 15; Arnold J. Band, Studies in Modern Jewish Literature (Philadelphia 2003), 51-64; Ariel Rein,
Ha-Historiyon be-Vinuy ha-Umah:Tsmihato shel Ben-Zion Dinur u-Mif’alo ba-Yishuv (1884-1948) (PhD diss., The
Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2000), 6; Yitzhak Conforti, Zeman ‘Avar: Ha-Historiyografiyah ha-Tsiyonit ve-
‘Itsuv ha-Zikaron ha-Leumio (Jerusalem 2006), 208; Mordechai Bar-on, The Beginning of the Israeli Historiography
of the 1948 War (Tel-Aviv 2001), 21, 109-113; Zerubavel, Recovered Roots, 5, 21, 83 (footnotes 15, 80 and 26,
respectively); and Shapira, New Jews Old Jews, 53, 246.
23
Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi, Zakhor: Jewish History and Jewish Memory (Seattle 1982).
24
Ibid, 86.
25
Ibid, 85.

12
Jewish group memory. "In effect," Yerushalmi posits, "it is not modern Jewish historiography that

has shaped modern Jewish conceptions of the past. Literature and ideology have been far more

decisive."26 Over the years, the notion that professional historians have limited ability in creating

Jewish and Zionist collective memories has been widely accepted among scholars of Jewish

history, historiography, and literature who have made this point in many contexts.27 It has also

been acknowledged by scholars who have rejected or nuanced the dichotomy Yerushalmi

suggested between history and memory.28

One of these scholars is David N. Myers who wrote extensively about the Jerusalem

scholars: a group of European Jewish intellectuals who, beginning in the 1920s, laid the

foundations for Jewish studies in the pre-state Jewish community of Palestine (the Yishuv). In his

studies, Myers shows how polyphonic this group was from a cultural, political, and personal point

of view. He presents the Jerusalem scholars as a new phase in the history of Jewish historiography,

and as a generation in transition, suspended “between Europe and Palestine, between fealty to

Wissenschaft des Judentums and loyalty to Zionism, and, consequently, between the instinct to

uphold the standards of critical historical scholarship and the desire to forge new boundaries of

collective memory.”29 The innovative aspect in the historiographical work of the Jerusalem

scholars was evident from their research topics (e.g. pre-modern Jewish community and Jewish

26
Ibid, 96. For more about the first generation of Jewish historians in nineteenth-century Germany see, Ismar
Schorsch, From Text to Context: The Turn to History in Modern Judaism (Hanover and London 1994) and Michael
A. Meyer, The Origins of the Modern Jew: Jewish Identity and European Culture in Germany, 1749-1824 (Detroit
1967), 144-182.
27
See note 22 above.
28
For two important commentaries about Zakhor that reject the dichotomy Yerushalmi suggests about the gap
between history and memory see, Amos Funkenstein, "Collective Memory and Historical Consciousness," History
and Memory 1:1 (Spring/Summer 1989): 5-26, and David N. Myers, “Remembering Zakhor: A Super-
Commentary,” History and Memory 4:2 (Fall-Winter 1992): 129-148.
29
David N. Myers, “Between Diaspora and Zion: History, Memory, and the Jerusalem Scholars” in Myers and David
B. Ruderman, eds., The Jewish Past Revisited: Reflections on Modern Jewish Historians (New Haven and London
1998), 99, and compare to Myers, “Was There a “Jerusalem School?”: An Inquiry into the First Generation of
Historical Researches at the Hebrew University,” Studies in Contemporary Jewry 10 (1994): 66-92.

13
mysticism) and their tendency to read Jewish history on a national level as opposed to social or

religious perspectives.

Myers writes that although the the first generation of Jerusalem scholars sought to be the

bearers of a new Jewish collective memory (or memories), their scholarly work was not necessarily

the most effective means in that process. Their work “did not bring about a unified Zionist

historiography, much less a unified mythic foundation for Zionism. Assuming that there was such

a mythic foundation in the Yishuv, it was constructed by political leaders and activists whose

commitment to scholarly rigor and nuance was considerably less than that of professional

academics.”30 Focusing on the founders of academic Jewish studies, Myers deliberately refrained

from examining the historical writings of political leaders, such as Yitzhak Ben-Zvi, Zalman

Shazar, and David Ben Gurion, who wrote extensively about Jewish and Zionist history.31

The centrality of non-professional historians in the creation of a modern Jewish collective

memory might be explained by two main reasons. First, in the nineteenth century, Zionism was

principally an intellectual enterprise, which was later transformed from an idea into a social

movement, and later still into a political movement boasting such galvanizing institutions as the

World Zionist Congress and the Jewish National Fund. Many early Jewish nationalists, such as

Ahad Ha'am and Joseph Klausner, for example, couched their social analyses and ideological

polemics in the form of historical essays, which often dealt with an ostensibly distant past, but had

a clearly contemporary purpose.32

30
Myers, Re-Inventing the Jewish Past: European Jewish Intellectuals and the Zionist Return to History (New York
and Oxford 1995), 183. One should note that some Jerusalem scholars, like Ben-Zion Dinur and Joseph Klausner,
were involved both in academic activity and in political affairs.
31
Myers makes this point in his piece “Was There a “Jerusalem School?” 87, footnote 22.
32
Shmuel Almog, Tsiyonut ve-Historiyah (Jerusalem 1982). Most relevant here is the piece “‘Avar ve-‘Atid” Ahad
Ha’am published in 1891. A copy is available at [Link] (last visited on
November 17, 2014).

14
 A second reason for the relatively marginal role of professional historians is related to the

development of the field of Jewish studies into an academic discipline beginning in the 1960s.

Until this happened, the authors of Zionist history were mainly Zionist leaders and activists, as

well as non-affiliated independent scholars. According to historian Zeev Tsahor, such histories

were, to a large extent, a political attempt to mobilize the Jewish masses for action, and to solidify

the political status of rival camps in the Yishuv and early Israel. Other scholars, dismiss this opinion

by showing that early Zionist historiography did, in fact, rise to the standards of academic

writing.33 In any event, the dominance of such studies and the delayed emergence of professional

scholarship on Zionism affected the ability of professional historians to participate in forming

Israeli collective memory.34

While this study is embedded in an Israeli context it corresponds, then, with previous

studies about Jewish historiography, especially in raising the question whether the shaping of

Israeli historical memory calls for a re-conceptualization of our notion of historiography, and a

new understanding of the category of historian. In other words, the study seeks to fill what I see

as a critical historiographical gap. While there is a near consensus among scholars that professional

historians have played a comparatively limited role in the shaping of Jewish collective memory,

by and large, they have nevertheless focused their studies on those professional historians.

This study seeks to magnify the role of non-professional historians as effective agents of

Israeli collective memory. The work suggests a new way of thinking about an official state

33
See Zeev Tsahor, “Historiyah ben Politika la-Akademiyah,” in Weitz, ed., Ben Ḥazon le-Reṿizyah, 209-219; Zeev
Tsahor, “Toldot Medinat Yiśraẻl: Akademiya ve-Politika,” Ḳatedrah 100 (2001): 378-394, and compare to Anita
Shapira, “Ha-Historiografiyah shel ha-Tsiyonot u-Medinat Yisrael be-Shishim Shenot Medinah.” Zion 79 (2009): 287-
309; Yoav Gelber, History, Memory and Propaganda (Tel-Aviv 2008), and Yisrael Kolat, "Al ha-Mehkar ve-hahoker
shel Toldot ha-Yishuv ve-Hatsiyonut", Ḳatedrah be-Toldot Erets-Yiśrael 1 (1976): 3-35.
34
One group of scholars who did leave an incredibly strong imprint on Israeli history memory is the “New Historians,”
who began to publish their manuscripts in the mid-1980s. I have in mind here their work on the 1948 war and the
relations between Ashkenazi and Mizrahi Jews in Israel.

15
apparatus that functions de facto as a history-writing body of a certain kind—the nature of which

will be examined in the following pages. Moreover, the study gives special attention to the

reception of the work of commissions of inquiry in Israeli collective memory and historiography.

Put another way, the study explores the social and political processes that either prevented or

enabled commissions of inquiry to make their historical narratives into national metanarratives.35

As mentioned above, the writing of contemporary history is integral to the work of

commissions of inquiry. Nevertheless, one should stress that individuals appointed to serve as

commissioners in Israel are normally not professionally trained historians, and that no Israeli

commission of inquiry was ever required to write history as part of its mandate. Commissions of

inquiry therefore constitute a new breed of Israeli historian. Besides engaging in the history of the

present, they function both as official historians of the state —historians who are expected to author

an official narrative about a given topic—and as public historians who conduct history beyond the

academy for public consumption.36 As one scholar of British commissions of inquiry has

explained:

The reports of committees are public documents. They often contain a wealth of

information in addition to discussion and specific recommendations for action. They are

commented on by newspapers, by professional and technical journals, sometimes by

35
About reception theory see Hans Robert Jauss, Toward an Aesthetic of Reception, Trans. by Timothy Bahti,
Introduction by Paul de Man, (Minneapolis 1982). About Reception History (rezeptionsgeschichte) see the webpage
by Harold Marcuse, "Reception History: Definition and Quotations" at:
[Link] (last visited on January 14, 2015). For an important
study that explores the reception of the novel Hirbet Hizah by S. Yizhar in Israeli culture see Anita Shapira, "Hirbet
Hizah: Between Remembrance and Forgetting," Jewish Social Studies 7:1 (Fall 2000) New Series, 1-62.
36
For definitions of public history see the website of the American National Council of Public History (NCPH) at
[Link] and compare to Robert Kelly, “Public History, Its Origins, Nature and
Prospects” in Phyllis Leffler and Joseph Brent, eds., Public History Readings (Malabar FL 1992), 111; Graeme
Davison, “Paradigms of Public History” John Rickard and Peter Spearritt, eds, Packaging the Past? Public Histories
(Melbourne1991), 4-15. About the fusion of official and public history in the work of New Zealand commissions of
inquiry see, Giselle Byrnes, The Waitangi Tribunal and New Zealand History (New York and South Melbourne 2004);
Roberto Rabel, “War History as Public History: Past and Future” Bronwyn Dalley and Jock Phillips, eds., Going
Public: The Changing Face of New Zealand History (Auckland 2001), 65.

16
 academic commentators. The question is, therefore, what the significance of such reports

is, not simply in terms of the reactions of civil servants and ministers poring over them in

their offices, but in this wider public context.37

This raises the question of the efficacy of Israeli commissions of inquiry in forging collective

memory, that is, in etching their narratives into Israeli historical memory. This question bears

special significance in light of the major role commissions of inquiry have recently assumed in

Israeli political culture.

There are two ways in which we might analyze the impact a commission of inquiry leaves

on the national collective memory. First is a quantitative approach that focuses on empirical data

concerning the level of public agreement with the commission’s narrative, conclusions, and

recommendations. The second way, as this study favors, is a qualitative approach that examines

the ways in which commissions’ reports reverberate in the public sphere, that is, in professional

and popular historiography, in the daily press, and other “sites-of-memory,” such as national

monuments and museums.38 In the chapters included in the body of the study we will see that the

37
Rhodes, Committees of Inquiry, 149, and compare to Law Reform Commission of Canada, Administrative Law –
Commission of Inquiry, Working Paper 17 (1977), 17. One should note here that Israeli state commissions of inquiry
used to urge the public to provide the commission any information that may be relevant to its inquiry.
38
The term “site-of-memory” is borrowed from the work of Pierre Nora, “Between Memory and History: Les Lieux
de Mémoire,” Representations 26 (1989): 7-24. The concept of "popular historiography" is employed in this
dissertation to denote a type of historiography which is different from "professional historiography" or academic
writing. Popular historians such as journalists and authors of historical novels, do not necessarily confine themselves
to the rigorous rules and conventions of professional historiography. In this respect, the genres of professional and
popular historiography are different from one another. Nevertheless, the two should not be regarded as antonyms,
since they coverlap and correspond with on one another. Indeed, popularizers are largely dependent on academic
output. Not being researchers par excellence, they most often rely on secondary sources, namely on the scholarly
writing of academic historians. Synthetic by nature, the work of popularizers is not supposed to generate new
knowledge, or alternatively, to illuminate the existing research. An exception to this rule is historical writing of
popularizers who describe their personal contribution to the events and phenomena they write about. I have in mind
here especially "history makers" such as national leaders and activists, whose memoires and autobiographies most
often fall under the category of popular historiography.

17
reports of commissions of inquiry are in dialogue with different factors such as literature, military

orders, rumors, conspiracy theories, and professional and non-professional historiography.

In some cases, the commission is unable to convince the public that its reading of the events

at hand are true and genuine, thus limiting its impact on national historical memory. A notable

example of such a scenario from American history is the story of the Warren Commission, which

investigated the assassination of President Kennedy in 1963.39 As is well known, the Commission

concluded that the president’s assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald, acted alone. Over the years, scholars

and laymen have either challenged this claim or totally dismissed it on several grounds. We need

not concern ourselves here with the specifics, but what is important to note in this context, is that

empirical evidence from the 1990s indicates that significant numbers of Americans reject the

Commission’s reading of the murder.40 Doubts regarding the credibility of the Warren

Commission report engendered a variety of conspiracy theories, which ascribe the murder to the

Mafia, the CIA, the FBI, the Soviet Union, or Cuba.41 The lack of public trust in the Commission’s

report has also made it into the American mainstream. In 2013, for example, forty years after the

murder, Secretary of State John Kerry publicly expressed his doubts about Oswald acting alone.42

Retrospectively, it seems quite clear that the Warren Commission failed in forging a consensual

national metanarrative about the murder, and in restoring public trust in the executive branch.

Moreover, the conspiracy theories about the murder—be they unrealistic or reasonable—cast the

39
Report of the President’s Commission on the Assassination of President John F. Kennedy (Washington DC 1964).
40
Daniel P. Moynihan, Secrecy: The American Experience (New Haven 1998), 219-221.
41
See Simon, “Parrhesiastic Accountability,” 1441-1444. Quite a few studies have challenged the final conclusions
of the Warren Commission. See for example Philip Shenon, A Cruel and Shocking Act: The Secret History of the
Kennedy Assassination (New York 2013) and Gerald McKnight, Breach of Trust: How the Warren Commission Failed
the Nation and Why (Lawrence KS 2005).
42
John Cassidy, “A Word in Favor of J.F.K. Conspiracy Theories,” The New Yorker, November 21, 2013 (available
online at [Link]
[Link] (last visited on November 17, 2014).

18
Commission as part of a wider attempt of the American political establishment to conceal

suspicious parts of the murder. This would seem to lead to the conclusion that the Warren

Commission was a weak agent of historical memory. In practice, however, the Commission

became the central point of reference in understanding the assassination. After all, each one of the

conspiracy theories corresponded to some aspect of the Commissions' work by either directly or

indirectly challenging its findings. The Warren Report resonates within the American public

sphere in a myriad of ways and sites-of-memory, including in books and movies that claim to shed

new light on the assassination. This phenomenon emanates from the Commission’s unique status

as a presidential commission that wrote an official history designed for public consumption. The

phenomenon is not unique to the Warren Commission, but is shared by many other commissions

of inquiry, American and non-American alike, which have had the ability to shape public opinion

in different ways.

One should take into account that ordinary citizens do not necessarily take the time and

effort to rigorously read reports by commissions of inquiry. After all, such reports often span

hundreds and even thousands of pages written in dry legal language. Nevertheless, commissions

of inquiry do attract a great deal of public attention. The media cover their work widely, and

publish excerpts of their reports in daily newspapers and other social media. Their histories are

often highly contested and claim a public place that professional historical works rarely attain.

Therefore, commissions of inquiry open a window onto the ways in which a national society such

as Israel processes and negotiates its past.

One further factor that makes commissions of inquiry a compelling case study for

understanding processes of memory formation is related to the fact that commissions are set up to

inquire into “matters of vital public importance.” In practice, such matters often fall under the

19
category of national or cultural traumas, which are characterized, among other things, by their

enduring effect, and by the fact that they become “ingrained in collective memory” and identity.43

For an event to attain the status of a national trauma, it need not necessarily be shared by a large

number of individuals. As Ron Eyerman notes, “the trauma need not necessarily be felt by

everyone in a community or experienced directly by any or all” in order for it to constitute a

national trauma.44 Whatever their historical origins, national traumas constitute fertile ground for

analyzing the ongoing processes of mythologization and commemoration. These phenomena help

society to process traumas. They open a window into the collective memory of that society;

memory that functions "as a lens through which group members perceive the present and prepare

for the future."45

This study uses commissions of inquiry as a means to an end, that is, as a lens that magnifies

the ways Israeli society grappled with recent national traumas. These unique bodies, which

perform (or are expected to perform) administrative, legal, political, and historiographical

functions stand at the heart of a vibrant public and scholarly discourse about contemporary history.

Accordingly, commissions of inquiry and the variety of ways in which their work reverberates in

public discourse and in the historiography that comes in their wake, raise a number of questions

that are central to this dissertation. Who, for example, is understood to have the right to make

historical judgments on matters deemed to be of vital public importance? In what ways have

commissions of inquiry contributed to the shaping and revision of Israeli history and memory?

43
Ron Eyerman, Cultural Trauma: Slavery and the Formation of African American Identity (Cambridge 2001), 2. For
further definitions of cultural and national traumas—as Eyerman noted the difference between them at the theoretical
level is minimal—see Alexander, Trauma, 6-30; Arthur G. Neal, National Trauma and Collective Memory: Major
Events in the American Century (Armonk, NY 1998); Austin Sarat, Nadav Davidovitch, and Michal Alberstin, eds.,
Trauma and memory: Reading, Healing and Making Law (Stanford 2007).
44
Eyerman, Cultural Trauma, 2.
45
Zerubavel, Recovered Roots, 9.

20
What light does this shed on social conceptions of the difference between historical truth, political

truth, and legal truth? Finally, how do such distinctions impact the work and deliberations of

commission members themselves?

Structure of the Dissertation

The ways in which Israeli society has tackled national mishaps and traumas, and the manner in

which Israeli commissions of inquiry have participated in the process, is here approached through

a series of case studies. This dissertation does not seek to exhaust the topic, but rather to focus on

four different cases, which were selected on the basis of three main criteria. First, each one of them

falls under the category of a national trauma. Second, each of them led to the setup of at least one

state, military, or kibbutz commission of inquiry. The third criterion stems from the time that

elapsed between the traumatic event itself and the writing of this study. The battles over the history

and memory of these events took place over a period of no less than forty years. This period allows

us to diachronically analyze the ways in which Israeli society has dealt with these traumas in a

direct or indirect dialogue with the commissions’ reports.

The four chapters of the dissertation are organized according to ascending chronological

order. Each one of them depicts a different scenario regarding the ability of a commission of

inquiry to affect the national historical memory. The first two chapters involve traumas of three

local communities in southern and northern Israel. I refer here to three kibbutzim—Nitzanim,

Masada, and Sha’ar ha-Golan—which, during the 1948 War, were occupied and demolished by

Egyptian and Syrian forces. For various reasons, discussed at length in the body of the chapters,

the military establishment harshly condemned the defenders of the kibbutzim—ordinary citizen

with limited military training at best—and presented them as traitors who consciously and

21
deliberately surrendered to the enemy to save their own lives. In so doing, the defenders had

ostensibly turned their backs on fundamental Zionist values, and jeopardized the entire Israeli

defense line at a critical point in the war. The denunciation by the military establishment and some

prominent writers during the war was expressed by textual and artistic means, such as a military

order, publications in the press, and a play that was staged by the national theater. This resulted in

a swift stigmatization of these kibbutzim all across the country. Their stories provide, then, a vivid

illustration of Eyerman's assertion that an event experienced by a relatively small number of people

has the ability to become a national trauma.

In their attempt to salvage their tarnished reputation, members of the kibbutzim demanded

that the military establishment establish commissions of inquiry. The logic behind these demands

was that an exoneration by a commission of inquiry could clear the names of the kibbutzim, and

revise the national historical memory accordingly. Such commissions were indeed established in

1948 and 1949. Each one of them reached the conclusion that the kibbutzim had been wrongly

maligned, and that their members had, in fact, behaved appropriately during the war. Nevertheless,

this conclusion did not suffice to repair the reputation of the kibbutzim, and to revise the collective

memory about them. This was at least their subjective feeling.

This study demonstrates that the inquiries were the opening salvo of the struggle over the

reputation of the kibbutzim. While the inquiries gave the kibbutzim the preliminary official

exoneration that was essential to their ability to revise their reputation in the national historical

memory, the inquiries were not necessarily the most important factor in the process. An analysis

of the decades-long battle that followed the inquiries shows that while Nitzanim members were

able to turn their kibbutz into a symbol of heroism by using the military and kibbutz commission

of inquiries to their advantage, the people of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan were unable to

22
mythologize themselves by the same means. Both separately and together, these chapters lead to

the conclusion that the ability to utilize the potential of a commission of inquiry in its capacity as

a potential agent of memory is largely dependent on the willingness and ability to build on its work

in the years that follow. In the case of Nitzanim, this meant that the kibbutz used the preliminary

exoneration of the inquiry to mythologize itself by political, textual, and communal means of

commemoration.

The first chapter analyzes the sixty-year struggle of kibbutz Nitzanim over its name in the

history and memory of the 1948 War. The chapter opens by relating the circumstances that led to

the destruction of the kibbutz by Arab forces in 1948. It continues with the public condemnation

that came in the wake of the battle, and its effects on the kibbutz in the decades that followed. The

story of Nitzanim serves here as a micro-history that illustrates some fundamental social values of

the budding Israeli society more broadly conceived. From this point on, the chapter analyzes the

commemoration strategy that Nitzanim adopted and applied over the years. The chapter elaborates

on the demand to set up a military inquiry, the inquiry report, and especially the myriad means the

kibbutz used to salvage its name and revise its image in Israeli historical memory. As mentioned

above, this struggle yielded many positive results for the kibbutz, and transformed Nitzanim into

a symbol of heroism of the 1948 War.

The second chapter tells the story of kibbutz Masada and Sha'ar ha-Golan. Its structure is

similar to the one of the first chapter. It opens with the historical circumstances that led to the

destruction of the kibbutzim in 1948, and continues with their public condemnation, and their

subsequent demands to set up military inquiries. Then, the chapter discusses the work of the

military commission and further kibbutz inquiries, which backed Masada and Sha'ar ha-Golan,

justifying the behavior of their defenders. What sets the story of Masada and Sha'ar ha-Golan apart

23
from that of Nitzanim in the context of history and memory are the activities of the kibbutzim in

the period that followed the publication of the commissions’ reports. While members of Nitzanim

committed themselves to a systematic and strenuous fight for their reputation, members of Masada

and Sha'ar ha-Golan adopted a much more passive course of action. They refrained from almost

any kind of commemoration activity, and thus failed to realize the potential of the inquiries as

agents of memory. Their late attempt to reclaim their honor toward the 2000s was too little, too

late, and did not lead to any substantial change of their status in the history of the war. A

comparison between the case of Masada and Sha'ar ha-Golan, on the one hand, and the story of

Nitzanim, on the other hand, therefore illuminates two different ways to cope with a trauma and

use the work of commissions of inquiry for the sake of memory formation.

The third chapter deals with Israeli memory of one of the biggest traumas in the history of

the country—the Yom Kippur War. More than four decades after the war ended, the scholarly and

public debates regarding the reasons and circumstances that led to the Yom Kippur surprise are as

lively as ever. By and large, they include four key explanations, which present the war as either a

political, military, social, or intelligence failure. The chapter analyzes the factors that enabled the

Agranat Commission—the Israeli state commission of inquiry that was set up in November 1973—

to establish what seems to be the most accepted explanation for the war. According to this

explanation, the war was the result of a failed concept that prevented the Israeli intelligence corps

from effectively warning about the military threat. The case of the Agranat Commission, therefore,

reveals the clearest instance in which a commission of inquiry turned its historical narrative into a

national metanarrative, and operated as an effective agent of memory. As in the case of the

kibbutzim, this chapter also demonstrates that a preliminary image of a national trauma could be

swiftly created in the immediate wake of the event. A revision of this image, on the other hand, is

24
a more prolonged and complicated process. Furthermore, the chapter suggests a new way of

thinking about the Agranat Commission. In general, scholars set the Commission in a political

context, focusing on the personal recommendations the Commission made or did not make

regarding high-ranking state officials. The chapter sets the Commission in the context of history

and memory, and presents a new way of understanding the social role commissions of inquiry play

on a broader scale. As we shall see, this process is intertwined with the political and administrative

functions the Agranat Commission performed, or sought to perform by making personal and

operational recommendations.

The fourth and final chapter of the dissertation focuses on the fight over the history and

memory of one of the most traumatic events in the history of the pre-state Yishuv. The murder of

the Zionist leader Chaim Arlosoroff (1899-1933) was a watershed in the history of Zionism and in

the relations between the two dominant camps in Jewish politics: the Labor party (Mapai), with

which Arlosoroff was affiliated, and its Revisionist opposition, led by Vladimir (Ze’ev)

Jabotinsky. For decades, the questions of who murdered Arlosoroff and why stood at the heart of

a vibrant political controversy. It fired the imagination of national leaders, scholars, and the public.

As the chapter determines, both Mapai and the Revisionists formed their explanations about the

murder less than a week after the event. That being said, neither of them was able to support its

claims by empirical and legally admissible evidence. According to the Labor Party, Arlosoroff's

murderers were two Jewish Revisionists who abhorred his politics. According to the Revisionists

version, Arlosoroff's murderers were two Arabs from Jaffa, whom the Mandate authorities

arrested, interrogated, and released in 1933/4. The various murder trials held during the 1930s did

not put an end to the affair, but rather exacerbated the tensions between Labor and the Revisionists.

The five decades that elapsed between the trials and the establishment of a state commission of

25
inquiry to inquire into the murder witnessed ongoing attempts to bring resolution to the affair by

political, legal, and historiographical means.

Chaired by Supreme Justice (Res.) David Bekhor, the Commission was part of a wider

process to reshape the Israeli public sphere in the period that followed the political upheaval of

1977 (“ha-mahapakh”). This landmark event in Israeli politics brought to an end half a century of

political hegemony by the Labor Party and Mapai, and enabled the Likud Party—the party that

presented itself and was widely viewed as the political successor of the Revisionist movement—

to lead the country for the first time.

The establishment of the Bekhor Commission, following the publication in 1982 of one in

a series of popular histories about the murder, demonstrated the affinity between political

controversies and historiographical polemics over national historical memory. The book by

Shabtai Teveth, who was also David Ben-Gurion's biographer, took up the Labor party's view of

the murder. In the eyes of Likud Prime Minister Menachem Begin this seemed like the renewal of

what he termed a blood libel against his political camp. As a result, the government decided to

establish the Bekhor Commission, which was expected to determine, once and for all, who

murdered Arlosoroff.

The chapter presents the Commission as part of a wider governmental effort to make the

historical heritage of the Revisionist movement integral to Israel’s official memory. To that end,

the chapter reconstructs fifty years of struggles over the memory of Arlosoroff’s murder. It

elaborates on the way the Bekhor Commission sought to meet the challenge with which it was

faced, and follows the memory of the Arlosoroff murder into the 21st century. The chapter

demonstrates, inter alia, that similar to the other stories discussed in the dissertation, the

conflicting memories of the Arlosoroff murder were forged in the immediate wake of the event. In

26
addition, the chapter suggests that more than studying the murder itself, the Bekhor Commission

studied the history of the historiography of the murder. Its inability to positively determine who

murdered Arlosoroff—as opposed to its decisive conclusion that Revisionists activists were not

responsible for it—did not prevent the Commission from performing a number of social, political,

and legal functions, which no other state apparatus was able to perform. The Commission

functioned as a kind of a modern agora that enabled those who were still interested in the

Arlosoroff affair to try to clarify a complex historical controversy.46

46
As mentioned above, this study does not seek to cover the entire history of Israeli commissions of inquiry. To
understand the way commissions of inquiry affected Israeli historical memory and historiography one could call upon
further cases not emphasized in this study. I have in mind here three cases. First, the state commission of inquiry that
was established in 1982 to inquire into the massacre in the Lebanese refugee camps of Sabra and Shatila. (For some
details and references about the massacre and the commission that is normally referenced by its chairman, Justice
Yitzhak Kahan, see the section about the establishment of the Bekhor Commission in the fourth chapter of this
dissertation. As detailed there, the public demand to establish the Kahan Commission in 1982 postponed the beginning
of the work of the Bekhor Commission). The second commission I have in mind is the Or Commission—the state
commission of inquiry that was established to inquire into the clashes between Palestinian Israelis and Security forces
in October 2000. This commission wrote extensively about the history of the relations between Jews and Arabs in
Israel since the 1948 War. My choice not to focus on the Kahan and the Or commissions was due to limited
accessibility to archival source material. In both cases documentation regarding the commissions is still classified and
kept behind closed doors in the Israel State Archives and the Israeli Defense Forces and Defense Establishment
Archives. In the case of the Kahan Commission Report some parts are still classified to this day. Furthermore, it seems
that over the years, the attention Israeli scholars and lay people pay to the massacre in Sabra and Shatila in general,
and the Kahan Commission in particular, has drastically decreased. This phenomenon of intentioned or unintentional
forgetfulness led historian Tom Segev to wonder on the twenty-fifth anniversary of the massacre: Who remembers
Sabra and Shatila?—a question that exceeds the scope of this study (See Tom Segev, "Mi Zokher et Sabra ve-Shatila,
Haaretz, September 24, 2007). For more about the topic and the way the memory of the massacre crosses Israeli
Holocaust consciousness see Alexander, Trauma, chapter 3. In the case of the Or Commission, one should add that
the relatively little time that has elapsed since the Commission published its report does not allow me to analyze the
commission's effect on Israeli historical memory in the way I engage the topic in other chapters of the dissertation. As
mentioned above, one of the things common to all of the cases on which this study focuses, is that the battles over
their history and memory took place over a period of no less than forty years. Last, but not least, a third case-study
that warrants extra attention concerns commissions of inquiry that looked into the alleged kidnapping and
disappearance of Israeli children in the late 1940s and early 1950s. Since most victims were of Yemenite descent, this
unfortunate phenomenon is commonly known as the Yemenite Children Affair. For details about the topic see Amir,
The Politics of Victimhood, 65-99, cf. Dov Levitan, " 'Aliyat Yehude Teman le-Yisrael – Hageshamat Halom o Shever
Hevrati? Ha-Mikereh shel Yalde Teman ha-Ne'edarim," Eliezer Don Yehiya, ed. Ben Masoret le-Hidush: Mehekarim
be-Yahadut, Tsiyonut u-Medinat Yisrael (Ramat Gan 2005), 377-403.

27
Global Trend – Israeli Phenomenon

The historical events discussed in this study are embedded in the Zionist and Israeli pasts. They

open a window onto an important and central factor in Israeli political culture, that is, commissions

of inquiry. For obvious reasons, such topics attract the attention of scholars with a particular

interest in Israeli history, historiography, and culture. Nevertheless, the processes discussed in the

dissertation could be of interest to scholars of other cultures and fields such as history and memory,

history and law, and the affinity these disciplines maintain with politics and contemporary life.

One should bear in mind that commissions of inquiry have become a worldwide

phenomenon in recent decades. A special breed of commissions that has attracted much public and

scholarly attention are truth and reconciliation commissions, whose aim is to address and

ultimately assuage social and political tensions embedded in their nations’ pasts, both recent and

distant. Such commissions are normally studied in the context of transitional justice.47 In quite a

few instances, they have been international tribunals, which enable their nation-states to solidify

their status in the international community as liberal-democracies. This study, therefore,

illuminates the similarities and differences between one of the most celebrated types of

commissions of inquiry and Israeli inquiries.

A recently published study by Yifat Holzman-Gazit and Raanan Sulitzeanu-Kenan stresses

the great significance that Israeli citizens attribute to the personal recommendations commissions

of inquiry make.48 Based on empirical evidence, the two scholars have found a positive correlation

between the level of criticism contained in an Israeli inquiry report, on the one hand, and the level

47
See, for example, Ruti G. Teitl, Transitional Justice (Oxford and New York 2000); The introduction by Mary S.
Zurbuchen, ed., Beginning to Remember: The Past in the Indonesian Present (Seattle2005); Hayner, Unspeakable
Truths; Amir, The Politics of Victimhood.
48
Yifat Holzman-Gazit and Raanan Sulitzeanu-Kenan, “Emet o Bikoret: Emun ha-tsibur be-Va'adot Hakirah ve-
shinui 'Amadot be-yahas la-'eru'a ha-nehkar – Du'h va'adat Winograd ke-mikreh Bohan, Mishpat 'u-Mimshal 13
(2011): 225-270.

28
of public trust in the report, on the other hand. Put another way, the more critical an inquiry report

is against office-holders, the more reliable it appears in the eyes of Israeli citizens who expect

commissions of inquiry, first and foremost, to punish public figures, and only then to clarify facts

regarding the matters at hand. Israeli commissions are therefore expected to function as the “watch

dogs” of public ethics. The state of mind of truth and reconciliation commissions, on the other

hand, is quite different, since one of their functions is to pardon anyone who is willing to cooperate

with them in advance. Unlike truth and reconciliation commissions, then, Israeli commissions of

inquiry are, by definition, an arena of political, legal, and historical struggles. The legal mandate

they have to make personal recommendations strengthens the public impression that their

conclusions are part of a “historical verdict” regarding a national trauma.

In spite of the contradicting socio-political poles that color Israeli commissions of inquiry

and truth and reconciliation commissions, both types of commission play an important role in

authoring histories of landmark events in the their countries' pasts. In so doing, they constitute, at

least in some cases, an important part in the creation of a new national historical memory.

In some cases from around the world, commissions of inquiry have been officially

mandated to undertake historical research. One such commission is the truth commission of Sierra

Leone, whose mandate explicitly required it “to prepare an historical record of the country from

1991 to 1999,” and “to create an impartial historical record of . . . violations and abuses of human

rights and international humanitarian law.”49 Other commissions have been defined as historical

commissions, such as The Commission for Historical Clarification of Guatemala, 1997-1999, and

the German Commission of Inquiry for the Assessment of History and Consequences of the SED

49
Quoted in William A. Schabas, “A Synergistic Relationship: The Sierra Leone Truth and Reconciliation
Commission and the Special Court For Sierra Leone,” Criminal Law Forum 15 (2004): 9 and 10.

29
Dictatorship in Germany, 1992-1994.50 In some cases, such as the most celebrated truth and

reconciliation commission—the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa, 1995-

2002—the commission was fully aware of the fact that its mandate limited its ability to treat the

entire historical phenomenon of apartheid. As a result its report constitutes but a small chapter in

a much larger history. The authors note that their report "sets out the historical context of the

mandate period 1960 to 1994 and the roots of the conflict that emerged during that period." They

drew attention, however, to the fact that "the origins of the South African conflict began much

earlier than 1960 and stresses that the Commission's brief was to report only a small part of the

much larger story of human rights abuse in this country."51

In other cases, such as those of Canada, South Korea, and Mauritius, truth and

reconciliation commissions have undertaken historical research regarding events and phenomena

that took place decades and even centuries before their establishment. The Truth and

Reconciliation Commission of Canada, for example, which was setup in 2009, focused on the

abuse of the country’s indigenous population. The commission paid special attention to

“residential schools,” which the government of Canada put in place in conjunction with Protestant

and Catholic churches between 1874 and 1996. Such schools aimed to forcibly assimilate

aboriginal children, and to prohibit the practices of aboriginal languages and cultures. A further

example of a commission of this kind is the truth commission of Mauritius, which was also

established in 2009 to document the colonial and post-colonial history of the country. This

included slavery that began in 1638, indentured labor that developed after the abolition of slavery

50
For succinct surveys about the Truth Commissions see Hayner, Unspeakable Truths, 32-35 and 52-53, respectively.
The first edition of the book “categorized some bodies as "historical truth commissions." " (ibid, 298, fn. 14).
51
The final report of the 1995-2002 South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission is available online at
[Link] (last visited on November 17, 2014). See ibid, vol. 1, chap. 2, para.
1.

30
in 1835, and complaints regarding dispossession of land. Israeli commissions of inquiry hold a

somewhat ironic place in this context. Although they engage, often intensively, in the writing of

history, they do so despite the fact that this invariably is not part of their mandate.52

To the best of my knowledge, in spite of the centrality of this social and historiographical

role played by commissions of inquiry worldwide, the only other scholar who has consciously and

deliberately focused on these aspects is Giessle Byrness in her studies of New Zealand's Waitangi

Tribunal.53 This standing commission of inquiry was established in 1975 to investigate Maori-

Crown Relations, especially in the context of land requisitions. The Tribunal became an historical

body, par excellence, in 1985 when the treaty of Waitangi Amendment Act “extended its

jurisdiction to investigate historical claims concerning the actions of the Crown since 1840 to the

present.”54 Accordingly, historians have taken an important role in the work of the treaty, helping

the claimant groups, their advocates, and the Crown to prepare evidence for discussion and

publication. In a personal email correspondence I held with Byrnes she stressed the historical

nature of the Tribunal:

In recent years—certainly since the late 1990s—the Tribunal, under the leadership of

influential leaders such as former Waitangi Tribunal chairperson, Chief Judge Eddie Durie,

sought to expand the remit of these reports, such that they provided the reading public with

a broader contextual understanding of the issues more generally. The Tribunal thus took

52
For alternative readings see Shenhav and Nadav Gabay, "Managing Political Conflicts." Cf. Daphne Barak-Erez,
“Collective Memory and Judicial Legitimacy: The Historical Narrative of the Israeli Supreme Court,” Canadian
Journal of Law and Society 16:1 (2001): 95-96; The lecture by Ruth Gavison, "Contemplations on State
Commissions of Inquiry and the Status of Israel's Arab Minority" (Tel-Aviv 2010), especially pages 8-12. Available
online at: [Link] (last visited on January 20, 2015).
53
Byrness has written extensively about the Waitangi Tribunal. Her most comprehensive study on the topic is The
Waitangi Tribunal. It should be noted that some other studies have included limited references to this aspect of
commissions’ work.
54
Ibid, 33.

31
 on, in my view, a slightly broader remit in terms of its legislated mandate; that is, to provide

meta narratives of Maori-Pakeha interaction, drawing on a range of recent academic

scholarship, in addition to the evidence presented before it. I have therefore maintained

that the Tribunal has taken an active role in writing (or rewriting) this history. This is not

a view held unanimously by the Tribunal members themselves—the composition of the

Tribunal changes over time and now employs professional 'report writers' to draft sections

of the final published report to government as the hearings proceed.55

Commissions of inquiry do not operate in a vacuum. In their capacity as exceptional state

bodies they perform a variety of social, political, legal, and administrative functions. In the process,

whether wittingly or unwittingly, they bring history to the forefront of the public arena. The

following chapters seek to shed light on the ways in which they have functioned as public

historians in the Israeli context, and on the effects they have had on Israeli historical memory.

55
Unpublished personal communication with Giselle Byrness, August 17, 2014.

32
THE BATTLE AFTER THE BATTLE: NITZANIM FIGHTING AND REMEMBERING
THE 1948 WAR

Introduction
The journalists who gathered outside the dining room of kibbutz Nitzanim in the evening of

December 28, 1983, were not allowed to attend the event that took place inside. Instead, they had

to wait until the gathering had ended, in an attempt to get inside information from participants who

left the place around midnight. On the following day, they reported on the gathering extensively

in quite a few daily newspapers and radio stations. Interestingly, the topic had nothing to do with

contemporary Israeli affairs, let alone with the military engagement in southern Lebanon

(Operation Peace for Galilee), which attracted much public attention. Instead, the meeting in

Nitzanim was about another war, which took place in the kibbutz decades earlier. The trauma of

the 1948 War had haunted Nitzanim for thirty five years, and the grievance associated with it

simply did not let go.

It is no overstatement to claim that kibbutz Nitzanim, situated about twenty five miles south

of Tel-Aviv, paid an enormous price for its part in the 1948 War. On Monday, June 7, 1948—

about three weeks after the inception of the State of Israel—Egyptian forces captured the kibbutz

and completely demolished it. The number of Israelis who were present in Nitzanim on that

Monday did not exceed 141 men and women. 44 of them were technically soldiers, but they were

untrained privates who had arrived in Nitzanim just four days earlier. They joined 30 additional

soldiers of battalion 53 of the Givati brigade and 67 kibbutz members who insisted on remaining

in their homes, despite the ongoing Egyptian assaults that had begun weeks before. This small and

ill-equipped force was facing two Egyptian infantry battalions, which were assisted by fighter

33
airplanes, artillery, and tanks.56 It is, therefore, not surprising that by the end of an intensive,

fifteen-hour long battle, approximately 33 Israelis were killed and 13 were injured. An additional

105 civilians—some of them were injured—were taken to Egypt as prisoners of war.57 They

returned to Israel only nine months later, as part of the 1949 armistice agreement between the

countries.

Upon their return, the former POWs were astonished to learn that two days after they were

taken prisoner, the Givati brigade had harshly condemned them. The reasons for that condemnation

will be explained in detail later. Now it is enough to mention that in the immediate wake of the

battle Givati presented the defenders of Nitzanim as cowards and traitors who consciously and

deliberately chose to neglect their homes and risk the entire Israeli war effort to save their own

lives. According to this line of thought, the defenders of Nitzanim failed not just in a specific

military task, but turned their backs on values fundamental to the Zionist movement, the kibbutz

movement, and the newly established Israeli state. The kibbutz members, on the other hand,

insisted that their defeat was the result of impossible military conditions at the end of a prolonged

56
A detailed description of the battle of Nitzanim and the weapons that were available to the Israeli and Egyptian
forces is available in a number of sources. See, for example, Avraham Ayalon, The Givati Brigade Facing the Egyptian
Intruder (Tel-Aviv 1963), 151-167; Tzvika Dror, Nitzanim: A Settlement Built Twice (Tel-Aviv 1990), 13-95; Yitzhak
Pundak, Hamesh Mesimot (Tel-Aviv 2000), 129-161; Arie Hashavia, Hither To: The Story of the 53th Battalion Givati
Brigade 1948 (Israel 2005), 167-181; Benny Morris, 1948: A History of the First Arab-Israeli War (Tel-Aviv 2010),
269-270, and Uri Milstein, Left to Die (Israel 2013), 171-188.
57
Some details regarding the number of combatants who were present in Nitzanim on June 7, 1948 were clarified only
years later. This may explain the inconsistency in the historiography regarding the topic. It seems that out of 141
Israelis who were present in Nitzanim on June 7, 105 were taken to Egypt as prisoners of war, 33 died in the battle,
13 were injured and 3 were able to escape. That having been said, some sources mention other figures, according to
which the number of Israeli combatants in Nitzanim numbered 140 rather than 141; the number of POWs was either
104 or 106; the number of dead varies between 03 and 38; the number of injured varies between 13 and 18, and the
number of fighters who were able to escape the battlefield is either two or four people. In fact, the identity of one dead
soldier who lost his life in the battle remained unknown for 65 years. His family was only able to confirm his death in
1993 (Dan Chamizer, Panta Rhei, [Tel-Aviv 1998], 7 and 62). Regarding the contradicting figures mentioned above
see the website of kibbutz Nitzanim at: [Link] (last visited on May 22, 2014) and
compare to the Israeli Defense Forces and Defense Establishment Archives (hereafter: IDFA) 281-21912922, 30; Ben
Zion Micha’eli, Abandoned Settlements (Tel-Aviv 1980), 381; Ayalon, The Givati Brigade Facing the Egyptian
Intruder, 161; Morris, 1948, 269; Dror, Nitzanim: A Settlement Built Twice, 11; Pundak, Hamesh Mesimot, 129;
Hashavia, Hither To,174-175; Milstein, Left to Die, and more.

34
and intensive fight. Their failure, they argued, was not a moral failure but a military defeat at the

hands of a better-equipped enemy.

This controversy regarding the part of Nitzanim in the 1948 War led to a decades-long

struggle over the place of the kibbutz in Israeli historical memory. This struggle is the focus of this

chapter, which starts with the slandering of the kibbutz in 1948. The chapter continues with the

demand of the kibbutz and its political patrons to setup a military inquiry to investigate into the

circumstances that led to its surrender (hereafter: the Burstein Committee58); a Committee that in

April 1949 reached the conclusion that the defenders of the kibbutz behaved properly, and that the

accusations raised against them were anything but true. With that, the honor of kibbutz Nitzanim

was seemingly reasserted, and the affair should have been laid to rest. However, members of the

kibbutz have insisted that the stigma attached to their defeat continued to follow their community

in the ensuing decades. That was also the opinion of scholars and public figures studied the story

of Nitzanim and reclaimed its honor. On this background, members of Nitzanim have continued

to mythologize its part in the 1948 War in a process that continued until the end of the century. By

so doing, Nitzanim attained further public acknowledgment, which solidified its heroic status in

the historical narrative of the 1948 War.

This chapter does not seek to cast doubt regarding the feelings of people who have been

living with the trauma of the 1948 War for years. It does, rather, reconstruct the process that led to

the transformation of Nitzanim into one of the symbols of the 1948 War. It therefore seeks to

challenge the often repeated opinion that the Burstein Committee was ineffective in its capacity as

an agent of historical memory, and that Nitzanim’s reputation was not recovered. Stated otherwise,

58
IDFA, 182-129/1951, Du’kh mi-Hakirat Parashat Nitzanim, April 15, 1948 (hereafter: the Burstein Report). About
the setup of the Burstein Committee see IDFA 1022-922/1975.

35
the chapter presents the Committee as the salvo of an ongoing struggle on history and memory,

which has been characterized by an extremely proactive approach by representatives of Nitzanim.

The chapter also suggests that the Nitzanim story is a kind of microhistory whose significance

extends beyond the particular story of one kibbutz that was destroyed during the 1948 War. More

specifically, the struggle of the kibbutz over its place in Israeli historical memory opens a vista

into the mentality of the budding Israeli society, and sheds light on a formative phase in Israeli

history. It points on the importance of contemporary history for a newly established national

society, and on the way in which one commission of inquiry was expected to take part in the

process. To make these points clearer, the current chapter is constructed as follows: the first section

considers the public condemnation of Nitzanim in the immediate aftermath of its destruction. The

second section seeks to shed light on the social environment out of which this condemnation grew,

as well as the strong sense of shame that accompanied that censure. An analysis of that

environment points to a fusion of military and social factors that created the false impression that

the defenders of Nitzanim did not follow explicit orders or pay sufficient heed to Zionist values

and ethos. The third section reveals the early attempts on the part of Nitzanim’s members to prove

that their failure on the battlefield was not a failure of values but rather a military defeat dependent

on conditions over which the kibbutz had no control. These attempts quickly led to the

establishment of the Burstein Committee in March 1949. The chapter presents the Burstein

Committee as part of a public and institutionalized effort to forge an accepted narrative of the

battle in Nitzanim. It also argues that the committee was in fact part of a wider Israeli effort to

establish social conventions regarding the evacuation of non-combatants, which was a matter of

vital public importance during the 1948 War. The fourth and final section of the chapter concerns

36
the aftermath of the Burstein Committee, that is, the later phases of Nitzanim’s struggle over its

reputation, which continued into the late twentieth century.

Stigma
The initiative to condemn Nitzanim was spearheaded by Shimon Avidan, the commander of the

Givati Brigade, which during the 1948 War was responsible for defending the Nitzanim area. 59

This happened on July 8, 1949, namely one day after the kibbutz was totally ruined by Egyptian

forces. On the following day, the execution of Avidan’s plan was carried out by the famed ex-

partisan and poet Abba Kovner, whom Avidan personally enlisted to Givati to serve as the

brigade’s cultural and information officer four days after the inception of the State. The means

Kovner used to condemn Nitzanim was what he called a “combat leaflet,” that is, a one-page

pamphlet that he circulated among Givati troops. This was only one of a myriad of methods that

Kovner used to inspire the soldiers and mobilize them for battle—a task at which he had proved

himself adept as far back as during World War II, when he famously authored the manifesto urging

the Jews in the Vilna ghetto to take their fate into their own hands; “not to go like sheep to the

slaughter,” and to rise up against the Nazi occupier in late 1941. On the basis of these experiences

Kovner had came to represent a symbol of Jewish heroism. Among his qualities were those that

made him, at least on paper, an outstanding cultural officer.60

59
About Shimon Avidan who was one of the prominent brigadiers during the 1948 War, see Shaul Dagan and Eliyahu
Yakir, Shimon Aidan – Givati: The Man who Became a Brigade (Givat Havivah 1995) and Uri Avnery, Optimistic
(Tel-Aviv 2014).
60
Regarding the proclamation Abba Kovner published in the Vilnius ghetto see Dina Porat, Beyond the Reaches of
Our Soul (Hamlet, I, IV, 55-56) The Life and Times of Abba Kovner, (Tel-Aviv 2000), especially pages 91-101. One
should note here that both Kovner and Shimon Avidan were kibbutz members with a background in the socialist
movement of Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir. The importance of this point will be clarified later.

37
 The combat leaflet Kovner published on June 9, 1948 about Nitzanim (See Appendix A)

was the first of 31 such leaflets that he published throughout the war.61 About 7,000 copies of each

were circulated among Givati personnel. In practice, they also attracted the attention of civilians

in and beyond the Nitzanim area. The leaflets, which in some cases were translated into Yiddish,

used provocative language that usually began with the words “Death to the Intruders!” (mavet la-

polshim).62 The effect the leaflets had had on the soldiers was mesmerizing, or as Avidan’s deputy,

Meir Davidson, put it, “the words of Abba Kovner were the element that connected the trenches,

the departments, the companies, the battalion, the division, the front, and the people in the South

[i.e., where Nitzanim was located] to one another . . . It was the only available written word that

announced—there is a fighting collective.”63 The fact that the leaflet about Nitzanim was followed

by thirty similar leaflets indicates how effective this mode of communication was in reaching out

to the soldiers.

The combat leaflet of June 9 opened with the word “failure,” and presented the case of

Nitzanim as a dangerous precedent, which was the fault of the locals as opposed to Givati

personnel. It does so despite the fact that Nitzanim was neither the first settlement that was taken

over by enemy forces, nor the first one to be condemned for the apparent moral failure on the part

of the local defenders, who were portrayed as incapable of living up to the standards expected of

Hebrew fighters.64 Retrospectively, the analogy the combat leaflet draws between “prison” on the

61
The combat leaflet was reprinted in quite a few sources. See, for example, Dagan and Yakir, Shimon Avidan, 145-
146.
62
About the nature and origins of the Combat Leaflets Kovner published during the 1948 War see Porat, Beyond the
Reaches of Our Soul, 254-271; Dagan and Yakir, Shimon Avidan, 134, 244-245, 250; Avnery, Optimistic, 267-269,
324 and Mordechai Bar-On, Givati Kemo Kulam: Korot Gedud 55 be-Milhemet ha-‘Atsma’ut (Jerusalem 2009), 117.
63
Ibid, 117 and compare to Dagan and Yakir, Shimon Avidan, 250.
64
During the 1948 War seventy three Israeli settlements were evacuated either temporarily or permanently. See David
Tal, “The Evacuation of Non-Belligerents from the Border Areas in the Israeli War of Independence,” Israel 4 (2003):
61, and Assnat Shiran, Stronghold Settlements (Savyon 1998), 2 of the introduction. Further details about Israeli
settlements that were either destroyed or deserted during the 1948 War are available in Michaeli, Abandoned
Settlements, and in the IDF History Department, Toldot Milhemet ha-Komemiyut: Sipur ha-Ma’arakhah (Israel 1959),

38
one hand, and “death” on the other, was also inaccurate. After all, each one of the 105 inhabitants

of Nitzanim who were taken prisoner to Egypt did not die but rather returned to Israel safe and

sound, at least physically. Moreover, the leaflet blurs the boundary between “civil” and “military”

affairs by addressing soldiers and civilians in the same manner.

Kovner, one should add, did not sign the combat leaflet in his own name, but rather with

the words “Givati – The Brigade Commander.” This created the impression that the leaflet came

through the chain of command, and thus carried the full weight of the brigade’s leadership. On

June 10, 1948, the day after the leaflet’s publication, Brigadier Avidan explained his reason for

having it written. In a letter he sent to General Yigal Yadin, who served at the time as acting IDF

Chief of Staff, Avidan argued that he ordered Kovner to write the leaflet after he got the impression

that “most members of Nitzanim hid in bunkers instead of taking their battle positions . . .

According to eye witnesses,” Avidan added, he “was able to get a final and total picture of

Nitzanim’s surrender,” which according to his reading was not just a “shameful act,” but an “act

of treason” for all intents and purposes.65

This determined tone contrasts with the way Kovner opened the combat leaflet, which

actually starts by admitting that not all details about the battle are known at this point. According

to the combat leaflet, it is impossible to draw conclusions about the battle, let alone to pass a final

judgment regarding the behavior of the locals. Kovner emphasized that the leaflet’s goal was not

to accuse anyone, but rather to say what needs to be said in face of potential hazards that may take

place during the war. Later in the chapter we will see that besides operational concerns and the

230. According to historian Arnon Golan, the number of what he describes as “Jewish refugees” who had to leave
their homes either temporarily or for good following the 1948 War amounted to seventy-two thousand people. See
Arnon Golan, “Jewish Refugees in Eretz Israel During the War of Independence”, Yahadut Zemanenu 8 (1993): 217-
241.
65
IDFA 1022-922/1975, Shimon Avidan to Yigael Yadin, June 10, 1948.

39
need to reach out to soldiers, the writing of the leaflet also emanated from written orders imbued

with Zionist values, which were seemingly violated during the battle in Nitzanim.

In spite of Kovner’s careful reservation, his pamphlet was widely taken as a final and

indisputable judgment, which was used to slander Nitzanim. An early expression of the leaflet’s

politicization appeared as early as July 1948, when Moshe Kolodni (Kol), a key figure in the

political movement of Ha-No’ar Ha-Tsiyoni (The Zionist Youth) with which Nitzanim was

affiliated, complained to Prime Minister and Minister of Defense David Ben Gurion, about certain

“political activists” who use the form of the combat leaflet to defame Nitzanim. Also, Kol insisted

these political activists, whose name he did not mention, denigrate Ha-No’ar Ha-Tsiyoni, which

seemingly did not subordinate itself to other arms of the kibbutz movement.66 The affiliation of

these activists with the socialist movements of Mapam, Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir and Ha-Kibbutz Ha-

Artsi (the National Kibbutz movement) is evident from an entry Ben Gurion wrote in his diary on

the following day.67 The feeling of an ongoing condemnation continued to hover above Nitzanim

from 1948 onward. Its members, both old and young, felt that they lived in the shadow of the

combat leaflet.

The sting of public condemnation profoundly affected the communal life of Nitzanim. The

atmosphere in the kibbutz was so grave that in 1982, almost thirty five years after the war had

66
Yad Tabenkin Archives–The Research and Documentation Center of the Kibbutz Movement (hereafter: YTA), 12-
13/11c18, Moshe Kolodni (Kol) to David Ben-Gurion, July 5, 1948. When Kol sent this letter to Ben-Gurion, the
prisoners of Nitzanim were still in Egypt.
67
David Ben-Gurion, From the Dictionary: The 1948 War (Tel-Aviv 1986), 580. Mapam (Hebrew acronym for the
United Workers Party) was founded in early 1948 as a union between the political movements of Ahdut ha-‘Avodah
Po’alei Zion and Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir. The latter, which started its way in 1916 as a Zionist youth movement, later
became also a settlement movement, called ha-kibbutz ha-artsi (the national kibbutz). Quite a few kibbutzim, including
Sha'ar ha-Golan, were affiliated with this umbrella organization, which had had a strong Soviet orientation. A short
and lucid introduction to the history and structure of Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir is available in Aviva Halamish, Meir Yaari:
A Collective Biography. The First Years Fifty Years: 1897-1947 (Tel-Aviv 2009), 19-29. Further details about the
movement are available in Levi Dror and Yisrael Rosenzweig (eds.), Sefer Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir (Merhaviyah 1956-
1964).

40
ended, the kibbutz put in a request with the regional psychosocial service to begin a course of

group therapy. Early in the therapeutic process, during which two mixed groups of first and second

generation kibbutz members talked over their life experience in Nitzanim, the therapists concluded

that “the key for understanding this special community lies in past events, which have affected the

development [of the kibbutz] and [its] self-perception to this day. The main purpose of the process

was to open “a secret” regarding the day of the battle [June 7, 1948], the fall of Nitzanim and the

combat leaflet that placed guilt and public shame on the members.”68 The trauma of the war,

combined with the fact that some members of Nitzanim brought their memories as Holocaust

survivors, made past into a heavy burden that set the tone of the local communal life.69

Members of Nitzanim prioritized memorializing their comrades who died during the 1948

War and mythologizing the history of the kibbutz, which, according to their understanding, was

miscast by the accusations contained in the combat leaflet. The therapists concluded that the

ongoing battle over the historical reputation of Nitzanim was so intense that it caused the locals to

“lose the right perspective. Stressing the past and idealizing it, sometimes made [them] undercut

current achievements, diminished the[ir] ability to consider matters in a balanced way.” This

resulted in additional problems, including “social confinement in little groups, and

noninvolvement in social affairs.”70 This assessment remained valid, at least to some degree, even

after the course of group therapy ended in the late-1980s.

Around the same time, Nitzanim asked the independent scholar Tzvika Dror to write a

book about the kibbutz. Published in 1990, the book “deals with the same traumatic events that

began with the battle over Nitzanim, continued with the publication of the manifest [i.e., the

68
Daphna Snir and Motti Segev, Nitzanim – Sikum Hit’arvut Kehilatit 1983-1986 (Ramat Efal 1988), 50.
69
Shlomo Kron, The Presence of the Holocaust in Symbols and Myths of Israel’s War of Independence (PhD
Dissertation, Tel-Aviv University, 2010), 197-205.
70
Snir and Segev, Nitzanim – Sikum Hit’arvut Kehilatit 1983-1986, 42 and 15 respectively.

41
combat leaflet] and was followed by the commission of inquiry that gave the fighters of Nitzanim

a full rehabilitation, but for some reason its conclusions did not become part of the national

consciousness.”71 A later expression of this opinion, according to which the Burstein Committee

was ineffective in clearing the name of Nitzanim, is available in a book published in 2000 by

Brigadier-General (Res.) Yitzhak Pundak, who during 1948, commanded Battalion 53 of the

Givati Brigade. As mentioned above, on the day of the battle in Nitzanim 74 men of this battalion

were stationed in the kibbutz. In his book, Pundak argues that “Nitzanim still licks its wounds. . .

[It does so] in spite of the conclusions reached by the committee that Ben-Gurion assigned to

investigate the battle [i.e., the Burstein Committee], an inquiry that unequivocally concluded that

on June 7, 1948 Nitzanim fought like any other [Jewish] settlement.”72 A few more years passed

before the popular Israeli author, Ram Oren, made the same point in a historical novel. According

to Oren, “in spite of the unequivocal conclusion of the commission of inquiry [according to which

the men of Nitzanim behaved properly], many people continued to refer to them abomination.”73

The book ends with the gloomy assertion that Nitzanim continues to live “in deep and unbearable

sadness,” which “hovers above it and cannot be removed.”74

This cluster of assertions is just a partial list that all make the same point: a leitmotiv in

many accounts about Nitzanim presents the combat leaflet as the factor that set the tone of the

71
Dror, Nitzanim: A Settlement Built Twice, 7. According to Dror, the book reflects its own reading of the events and
not opinions that Nitzanim requested him to amplify.
72
Pundak, Hamesh Mesimot, 157, 195-196 and compare to Yitzhak Pundak et al., Givati Brigade – Battalion 53 (Tel-
Aviv 2006), 53, 183, 364-366; ibid, Be-Aharit ha-Yamim: Meha-Yamim ha-hem la-Zeman ha-Ze (Mi-1933 le-2010)
(Private Publication 2012), 123, 165-166. Interestingly, in 2013, when Pundak celebrated his 100 th birthday, he was
promoted to the rank of General (see Haaretz, August 17, 2013).
73
Ram Oren, The Target: Tel-Aviv (Tel-Aviv 2004), 319 and compare to Nisan Reznik, Budding from the Ashes: The
Story of a Ha-Noar Ha-Zioni Youth in the Vilna Ghetto (Jerusalem 2003), 200.
74
Oren, The Target: Tel-Aviv, 332.

42
image of the kibbutz for decades after the war’s end.75 Later in this chapter, we shall examine why

one leaflet was more effective in shaping Israeli memory than the work of the inquiry commission,

and what we can learn from that about the potential embedded in commissions of inquiry as agents

of collective memory. First, however, we shall delve further in the following two questions: 1)

why was the kibbutz condemned so harshly in the first place, and 2) Why did the condemnation

mean so much to the kibbutz and the Israeli public?

Condemnation
As Abba Kovner emphasized in the combat leaflet, the condemnation of Nitzanim went beyond

military affairs. In addition to motivating soldiers for battle it also expressed the Zionist credo

regarding the image of what Kovner called the “Hebrew watchman.” As a result, the combat leaflet

inexplicitly reinforced Zionist beliefs and myths, such as the ethos of the farmer-fighter, which

had dominated in the years before statehood was achieved.76 Furthermore, the condemnation of

Nitzanim emanates from the gap between a Zionist worldview that cast ordinary citizens in a

position of combat soldiers, on the one hand, and the actual ability of non-combatants to fulfill

those expectations during the 1948 War, on the other. As we shall see later, the Burstein Committee

itself acknowledged that these standards were not necessarily realistic.

One indication that the condemnation of Nitzanim was not just about military failure but

rather encompassed broader moral issues lies in the fact that none of the other fourteen Israeli

settlements that fell into Arab hands between May 13 and July 8, 1948 was publically condemned.

75
Dror, Nitzanim: A Settlement Built Twice, 7, 166-167,2 82, 190 and more; Tom Segev, “Ha-Kibbutz she-Met
Pa’amayim,” Haaertz, May 18, 1990, B7; Avihai Becker, “Bati le-Vekash Slihah,” Haaretz, April 23, 2004; Ofer
Aderet, “Tagidi le-Dani she-haitah lo Imah,” Haaretz, October 7, 2011 and more.
76
I elaborate on the farmer-fighter ethos below. For preliminary background about it see Baruch Kimmerling, “State
Building, State Autonomy and the Identity of Society: The Case of the Israeli State,” Journal of Historical Sociology
6:4 (December 1993), 396-409.

43
Furthermore, even those who were taken to task did not meet such harsh censure. Some of these

settlements—for example, kibbutz Yad Mordechai, which was destroyed by the Egyptian Army,

and kibbutz Gush Etzion, which was destroyed by the Jordanian legion and local Palestinian

militias—were in fact presented as symbols of Israeli heroism while the war was still progressing.77

Some sixty additional Jewish settlements that were partly or fully destroyed in the later phases of

the war were also not rebuked. One major factor that distinguished their cases from the story of

Nitzanim was the fear that the seemingly willing surrender of Nitzanim (as opposed to the stubborn

fighting of the other settlements) would be publically looked at as a dangerous precedent, which

demoralize soldiers and civilians.

As historian Yoav Gelber notes, the first ten days of June 1948 were characterized by the

increasing exhaustion of Israeli troops on all fronts. This phenomenon, together with the lack of

sufficiently trained reservists, was in fact one of the central concerns of the Israeli political and

military leadership.78 Fatigue—both mental and physical—also affected the performance of Givati

Brigade, which was experiencing a difficult period, and was unable to meet a number of military

challenges before and after the battle at Nitzanim. On June 4, for example, Givati failed to occupy

the Palestinian town of Isdod. The brigade was also unable to lend full support for Nitzanim. As

mentioned in the introduction of this chapter, most Givati men who were present in Nitzanim on

the day of the battle were untrained privates who had never completed their basic military training.

Their defeat in battle should not had come as a surprise in light of the scope of the standing army

that was storming them.79 Moreover, on the following day, Egyptian forces were also able to take

77
About the construction of the collective memory of kibbutz Kfar-Etzion see the piece by Amia Lieblich, “The
Second Generation of Kfar-Etzion: A Study of Collective Memory,” in Doron Mendels (ed.), On Memory: An
Interdisciplinary Approach (Bern 2007), 213-230.
78
Yoav Gelber, Independence Versus Nakba (Or Yehudah 2004), 219.
79
See note 56 above.

44
over the nearby Hill 69, which was an important strategic point. It should be noted that the hill was

occupied after the Israeli soldiers posted there fled with their commanding officer. When Shimon

Avidan heard that news, he ordered that any other soldier who dared to desert his post be shot. 80

In this respect, the first ceasefire of the war, which came into effect on June 11, was indispensable

to the troops in the area, who were simply exhausted. This is the immediate backdrop upon which

the condemnation against Nitzanim was based.

The military aspect of the war, however, does not tell the whole story, especially since the

boundary between citizens and soldiers, and between the front and the rear were not necessarily

clear at the time. One of the premises that guided Israeli society and leadership in the early days

of the nation was epitomized in the saying “the entire country is on the front line” (kol ha-aretz

ḥazit). Since both border-settlements and urban centers were under massive enemy attacks, both

soldiers and citizens—including untrained ones—were expected to defend their homes and

actively participate in the war effort. In some cases, such as Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan, on which

we shall elaborate in the following chapter, even the regional commanders, that is, ordinary kibbutz

members who were appointed to the job during peacetime, lacked basic military training. 81 The

notion that such people could and should take part in defending the kibbutz emanated from the

“farmer-fighter ethos,” which characterized the Yishuv (the pre-state Jewish community in

Palestine), especially since the mid-1930s.

This ethos stated that the notion of practical Zionism fuses “pioneering,” agricultural labor

way of life, and military steadfastness when such is needed. Put another way, the high level of

expectations set to kibbutz members during the 1948 War was rooted in a combination of actual

80
IDFA 182-129/1951, 56 and compare to Dagan and Yakir, Shimon Avidan, 147. Avidan’s order was never executed.
81
Agin, Netishah, 226.

45
military needs and a Zionist values system that was gradually forged in the decades leading up to

the statehood years. Embodied in the image of the Sabra, this “New Jew” fused a variety of features

that were not necessarily easy to realize. As sociologist Baruch Kimmerling notes, the Sabra “was

supposed to be healthy, muscular, a warrior, [and also] industrious, hard-working, rational,

modern, Western or “Westernized,” secular . . . accentless Hebrew speaker, educated (but not

intellectual), and obedient to authorities (that is, to the state and its representatives).”82 The Hebrew

pioneer was to be an antithesis of the exilic (primarily European) Jew, whose image in the Zionist

worldview was one of weakness, of a defenseless person exposed to ongoing anti-Semitic

expulsions and assaults.83 In the early twentieth century, the ultimate embodiment of the New Jew

in Palestine was the farmer. As time went by, however, the social status of the Zionist fighter

increased dramatically.84

The gradual idealization of the Jewish fighter went hand in hand with what historian Anita

Shapira called the transformation of the Yishuv from a defensive to an offensive ethos. 85 The

meaning of this process was that a semi-passive self-defense orientation that characterized the

Yishuv in the first decades of the twentieth century, and that was most often applied in response

to attacks against Jews, began to shift to that of a proactive Zionist doctrine during the Arab Revolt

of 1936-1939. In practice, this notion meant that Jewish fighters should initiate action with the

82
Baruch Kimmerling, The Invention and Decline of Israeliness: State, Society and the Military (Berkeley, Los
Angeles and London 2001), 101. Further historical and sociological definitions of different models of the “New Jew”
are available in Anita Shapira, New Jews Old Jews (Tel-Aviv 1998), 122-155; Anita Shapira, Land and Power: The
Zionist Resort to Force, 1881-1948 (Stanford 1992), 364, and Oz Almog, The Sabra: The Creation of the New Jew
(Berkeley 2000).
83
Regarding the common notion that views Jewish life in the diaspora as an ongoing sequence of anti-Semitic
persecutions, see Salo Baron, “Ghetto and Emancipation,” Menorah XIV:VI (1928): 515-526. Also relevant here is
David G. Roskies (ed.), The Literature of Destruction: Jewish Responses to Catastrophe (Philadelphia 1988).
84
Regarding the dominant image of the ‘pioneer’ in Israeli popular memory and historiography, see Boaz Neumann,
Land and Desire in Early Zionism (Waltham 2011). About the gap between this image and sociological features of
the Second Aliyah, see Gur Alroey, Immigrants: Jewish Immigration to Palestine in the Early Twentieth Century
(Jerusalem 2004).
85
Shapira, Land and Power.

46
enemy, be it Arab or British. A byproduct of this process was the glorification of the Jewish

fighter.86 As sociologist Uri Ben-Eliezer notes, the trend was also a preliminary step in the

development of an Israeli militarism, which became a central feature of the Israeli experience in

the early years of the state, and a central tenet in building Israeli society into “a-nation-in-arms.”87

During the 1940s, the ultimate embodiment of the fighter-citizen was the Palmachnik who fought

in the Palmach and worked for his or her labor in the kibbutz.88 During the 1948 War, this model

was also applicable to thousands of Israelis who either volunteered to fight in the war, or happened

to find themselves under enemy fire.89

An additional byproduct that emanated from the blurring of the difference between soldiers

and citizens was the legitimacy of sacrificing one’s life for the national cause. According to

sociologist Yagil Levy, the period of the Yishuv and early statehood was characterized, among

other effects, by the acknowledgment of the Jewish population that the Zionist enterprise could

claim their lives.90 By the time of the inception of the State, militarism was a key feature of the

86
Ibid, 58, 365-368; Almog, The Sabra, 120-137.
87
Earlier models of ‘nations-in-arms’ that preceded the Israeli model include the first French republic following the
1792 legal affirmation of the levée en masse; nineteenth century Prussia, and Japan in the early years of the Meiji Era
(1868-1912). Further details about cultural militarism through a comparative lens are available in see Ben-Eliezer,
The Making of Israeli Militarism (Bloomington and Indianapolis 1998), 195-199 and Stuart A. Cohen, The New
Citizen Armies: Israel’s Armed Forces in Comparative Perspective (London and New York 2010). About Israeli
militarism during the pre and early-statehood years, see Ben-Eliezer, The Making of Israeli Militarism and Baruch
Kimmerling, “Patterns of militarism in Israel,” European Journal of Sociology 34 (1993): 196-223.
88
The Palmach (Hebrew acronym for ‘Shock Squads’) was established in 1941 as elite fighting force of the Haganah,
which was the biggest paramilitary organization in Mandatory Palestine. By and large, the Palmach was, as Anita
Shapira put it, “an army with a civilian mentality” that embodied the image and ethos of the Sabra. For further details
about the social features of the Palmach see, for example, Shapira, Land and Power, specially pages 344-345 and 348-
349; Ben-Eliezer, The Making of Israeli Militarism, 43-48; Emmanuel Sivan, The 1948 Generation: Myth, Profile and
Memory (Tel-Aviv 1991) and Alomg, The Sabra.
89
In later years, the citizen-soldier concept also became relevant for thousands of Israeli reservists. Service in reserve
units has been a central feature of Israeli life and a symbol of Israeliness. For more about the nature and changes of
Israeli militarism in later years, see Daniel Maman, Eyal Ben-Ari, Zeev Rosenhek (eds.), Military, State, and Society
in Israel (New Brunswick and London 2001); Gabriel Sheffer and Oren Barak (eds.), Militarism and Israeli society
(Bloomington 2010); Stuart A. Cohen, Studying the Israel Defense Forces: A Changing Contract with Israeli Society
(Bar Ilan University 1995), and Stuart A. Cohen, “Towards a New Portrait of the (New) Israeli Soldier,” Reprinted
from Israel Affairs 3 (Spring/Summer 1997): 77-117.
90
Yagil Levi, Israel’s Death Hierarchy: Casualty Aversion in a Militarized Democracy (New York and London 2012),
41. Also see Udi Lebel, “Civil Society Versus Military Sovereignty: Cultural, Political, and Operational Aspects,”

47
statist ideology known in Hebrew as mamlakhtiyut (Etatism). According to this doctrine, the IDF

was “the embodiment of the new statism, the main instrument of the principle that sought to fuse

the society’s pioneering values with the raison d’etat.”91 As a result, death in battle was viewed as

“the ultimate embodiment of the mythic ideal” of the warrior ethos already in the pre-statehood

years. The same was true, as sociologists Yoram Bilu and Eliezer Witztum argue, for the reverse

position: “psychological collapse under fire subvert[ed] the myth of heroism.”92 All of these

elements lead to the conclusion that surrender in the battle, of which the members of Nitzanim

were accused, broke a fundamental social code at the worst possible moment.

No less worrying was their apparent decision to disobey orders prohibiting non-combatants

to evacuate their settlements without receiving an explicit directive. The standing order—known

as the “Tel Ḥai order”—that the Haganah command published on the 13th of October 1947,

specifically noted that “it is forbidden to evacuate any Hebrew post or settlement” that should be

held “until the last man. Evacuation from the posts of non-combatants (children, women, elderly

etc.) will be done [only] following [receipt of] permission by the authorized bodies,” which the

Tel-Hai order does not expand upon.93 The name of the order was obviously not accidental. Other

than the fact that it was an appendix to an operation that was taking place in the upper Galilee—

Armed Forces & Society 34:1 (October 2007): 67-89. One should add that evasion from military service during the
1948 War was not necessarily a rare phenomenon. See Moshe Naor, “The Home Front and the Mobilization in the
1948 War”, Israel 4 (2003): 39-57.
91
Ben-Eliezer, The Making of Israeli Militarism, 194, and compare to Levy, Israel’s Death Hierarchy, 39. For more
about the origins and nature of Israeli statism, see Nir Kedar, Mamlakhtiyut: David Ben-Gurion’s Civic Thought
(Be’er-Sehva and Jerusalem, Ben-Gurion University, The Ben-Zvi Institute, 2009) and Kimmerling, The Invention
and Decline of Israeliness.
92
Yoram Bilu and Eliezer Witztum, “War Related Loss and Suffering in Israeli Society: An Historical Perspective,”
Israel Studies (5:2), Fall 2000, 16. Also relevant here is the piece by Eyal Ben-Ari, “Epilogue: A “Good” Military
Death,” Armed Forces & Society (34:4), Summer 2005, 651-664.
93
I borrowed the quote of the Tel-Hai order from Ben-Zion Dinur, Shaul Avigur, Yitzhak Ben-Zvi, Elazar Galili,
Yisrael Galili, Yehudah Slutzki (eds.), From Resistance to War (Sefer ha-Haganah), Volume III, Part III (Tel-Aviv,
Am Oved, 1972), 1948 (emphasis in the original). Further details about the order are available ibid, Volume III, Part
II, 1339-1340. Also see Avraham Ayalon, Hativat “Givati” be-Milhemet ha-Komemiyut (Tel-Aviv, Maarakhot, 1959),
119-122.

48
an operation that was called “Operation Tel Hai”—the order alluded to the myth of Tel-Hai, on

which generations of Israelis and members of the Yishuv were raised since 1920.94 As is widely

known, the myth commemorated the memories of eight Jewish settlers who lost their lives in the

defense of the Tel-Hai farm in March of that year. The essence of that event was encapsulated in

what were alleged to be the final words of the commander of the farm, Yosef Trumpeldor: “it is

good to die for our land.” These words were held in the Yishuv as a supreme Zionist value, and a

moral imperative.

As historian Yael Zerubavel points out, “[f]rom the end of the 1920s until the foundation

of the State of Israel, Tel Hai continued to function as the most prominent national myth of the

growing Yishuv.”95 Tel-Hai itself became a sight of pilgrimage of sorts, and the battle that took

place there was eternalized in a variety of ways. This included an annual day of commemoration

on the eleventh of the Hebrew month of Adar, as well as a book about the legacy of Tel-Hai that

was published during the 1948 War by the Israeli Ministry of Defense.96 The importance of strong

perseverance in the face of war horrors was also anchored in non-Israeli symbols. One of them

was the ghetto resistance of figures such as Abba Kovner and his peers from the Vilna ghetto. An

additional role model was the British people’s exemplary stance when facing the German blitz.97

94
Yael Zerubavel, Recovered Roots: Collective Memory and the Making of Israeli National Tradition (The University
of Chicago Press, 1995), chapter 3 and 9. For further details about the topic see Shapira, Land and Power, especially
pages 98-109; Mordechai Naor (Ed.), Ish Tel Hai. Zalman Belahovsky: Parashat Tel-Hai le’ahar ke-Tishim Shanah.
Mikra’ah Historit-Sifrutit (Tel-Aviv, The Ben Zvi Institute, 2009).
95
Zerubavel, Recovered Roots, 148.
96
Gershon Rivlin (ed.), The Tel Hai Heritage (Tel-Aviv, A. Mozes, 1948).
97
Nurit Cohen-Levinovsky, “Evacuation of Non-Belligerents: A Comparative Study of Three kibbutzim” in
Mordechai Bar-On and Meir Chazan (eds.), Citizens at War: Studies on the Civilian Society during the Israeli War of
Independence (Jerusalem, The Galili Center of Defense Studies, 2006), 286, 292-295 and compare to Tal, The
Evacuation of Non-Belligerents, 63.

49
 This, in general terms, was the background at the heart of the public condemnation against

Nitzanim and its being singled out. The condemnation of Nitzanim by the publication of the

combat leaflet depicted the kibbutz as an anti-thesis to the idyllic image Israeli society hoped to

look like. In his studies about the memory of some historical figures from American history,

sociologist Gary Alan Fine have argued that “It is through stories about representative persons—

who are typical in their atypicality—that societies define themselves.”98 The story of kibbutz

Nitzanim validates this assertion in the context of communities. Familiar as they were with the

values of the Yishuv, the belief in the righteousness of their way and a sense of belonging to the

working settlement movement (ha-hityashvut ha-‘oveded), the members of Nitzanim demanded

an investigation of the events of the battle while the war was still in progress. This demand and

the inquiry that followed stand at the heart of the next section of the chapter.

The Burstein Committee

Representatives of Nitzanim first demanded an investigation into issues related to the fall of the

kibbutz on June 15, 1948, that is, eight days after Nitzanim was destroyed by the Egyptian army.99

A letter the secretariat of the kibbutz [mazkirut meshek Nitzanim] sent to David Ben-Gurion

demanded clarification of a long list of matters related to what the kibbutz defined as culpable

negligence by the Givati Brigade. According to the secretariat, in the weeks that preceded the

battle, the Givati headquarters discriminated against Nitzanim in a number of ways, including

disregard of basic military needs, inappropriate armament, and mobilization of insufficiently

98
Gary Alan Fine, Difficult Reputations: Collective Memories of the Evil, Inept, and Controversial (Chicago and
London 2001), 7.
99
YTA 12-13/11c18, Nitzanim to David Ben-Gurion, June 15, 1948.

50
trained soldiers. The letter went on to argue that the kibbutz’s requests to be reinforced were

ignored for political considerations. More specifically, the members of Nitzanim believed that they

were discriminated especially against kibbutzim of Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir because their kibbutz

had been affiliated with the smaller movement of Ha-No’ar Ha-Tsiyoni.

Interestingly, the combat leaflet was not included in the preliminary request to investigate

the battle, since, according to the kibbutz, the fighting should have been a military issue under the

jurisdiction of the IDF, and not of Nitzanim, which was the focus of the leaflet. In making its

argument, the secretariat of the kibbutz mentioned that two thirds of the local defenders were not

kibbutz members but Givati soldiers. It furthermore stressed that clarification of many details

regarding the battle would only become possible after the prisoners were returned from Egypt. As

long as they remained in captivity outside Israel, no in-depth inquiry about the battle was possible.

The letter ended with the assertion that no finger could be pointed at the locals over what happened

in the battle of Nitzanim, let alone so early in the process of trying to account for what had

happened.

Roughly two months after Nitzanim’s first call for an investigation was left unanswered,

Moshe Kolodni, Nitzanim’s political patron, turned to Ben-Gurion, raising serious accusations

about the smearing of the kibbutz by the people of Mapam and the Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir.100 Unlike

the preliminary request of Nitzanim to investigate the battle, Kolodni’s demand gave much

attention to the combat leaflet. Kolodni stressed the need to investigate “the facts about the

perseverance and the fighting of the Nitzanim group as well as on what basis were the words of

the Brigade commander published in the daily order.” Kolodni added that “if it transpires that there

100
See note 67 above.

51
was no basis for the accusations” brought up in the combat leaflet, then it will be necessary to put

Avidan on trial for daring to “dishonor the members, soldiers and pioneers who dedicated their

lives to the building of a pioneering settlement and fought for it till the end.”101 Kolodni’s letter

indicates that he had no doubt that the accusations that were made against his friends in Ha-No’ar

Ha-Tsiyoni were baseless. The letter was also accompanied by an opinion piece that was published

in the movement’s magazine, The Zionist Worker (ha-‘Oved ha-Tsiyoni), on that same day entitled

The Nitzanim Case. The anonymous author of the piece urged its readership to “think how ugly

the act of defamation and whispering is, which certain political circles keenly undertake, [to prove]

that Nitzanim surrendered “in fifteen minutes” without fighting back.”102 From here on, the place

of the combat leaflet in the struggle to determine the events that occurred in Nitzanim only grew

in importance.

As opposed to the first call that was left unanswered, Kolodni’s demand set the wheels of

the defense establishment in motion. On the 29th of December 1948 Ben-Gurion instructed the IDF

to investigate the “case of the war and defense of the Nitzanim group in relation to the order of the

day that was issued by the Brigade commander in the south at that time.” 103 This wording, which

also appears in the letter of appointment of the inquiry dated March 23, 1949, is almost totally

identical to the demand that was presented by Kolodni in July 1948.104 The person who was first

appointed to carry out the investigation was Lieutenant Colonel N. Burstein who was supposed to

complete the task on his own before the elections to the Constituent Assembly (ha-Asefah ha-

Mekhonenet), which were set for January 25, 1949.105 One should add that the person who

101
See note 66 above.
102
See Ha-‘Oved Ha-Tsiyoni (19:197), July 5, 1948. I borrowed the copy that was appendixed to the Burstein Report
(IDFA 1022-922/1975, Appendix 4, 22).
103
IDFA 182-129/1951, Nehemiyah Argov (Aide-de-Camp to Minister of Defence Ben-Gurion) to David Shaltiel,
(Inspector General of the IDF), December 29, 1948.
104
IDFA 1022-922/1975, A. Aronov to David Ben-Gurion and Ya’akov Dori, April 17, 1949.
105
IDFA 432-1308/1950, David Shaltiel to David Ben-Gurion, January 11, 1949.

52
appointed Burstein to the job, on the instruction of Ben-Gurion, was General David Shaltiel who

was known during the war for supporting the evacuation of civilians under fire. Moreover, in July

1948 Shaltiel was dismissed from his position as the commander of Jerusalem and its surroundings

for the same reason, i.e., that he took a defensive approach that was in stark contrast to the principle

approach of David Ben-Gurion and the Supreme Military Command.106 In any event, the

independent inquiry by Burstein did not take place since Burstein was appointed shortly thereafter

as the representative of the Defense Minister to the central election committee for the Constituent

Assembly. The inquiry was therefore temporarily frozen.107

It was launched for the second time two months later, after the prisoners of Nitzanim had

returned to Israel. In a letter that the returnees sent to the Minister of Defense and the Chief of

Staff on March 13, 1949, they highlighted that only then, nine months after the battle, they became

aware of the “smear campaign” that was initiated against them by the Givati Brigade command.

“We hoped” they added, “that on the day of our return to the homeland we would demand

responsibility from the commanders of the south who, in their indifferent and negligent care about

us, created a severe and tragic situation. And now we were shocked to hear and read the smears

with the obvious goal of hiding their mistakes and blaming the combatants in absentia.”108

Therefore, the people of Nitzanim demanded an examination of the events with Avidan, Kovner

106
The person who replaced Shaltiel as the commander of the Jerusalem area was Moshe Dayan. Regarding Shaltiel’s
attitude toward the evacuation of Gush-Etzion see Moti Golani, "Mateh Mahoz Yerushalayim ve-Gush Ezion be-
Tashah," in Arie Naor (ed.), Gush Etzion Mi-Reshito Ve-‘ad Tashah (Jerusalem, the Ben-Zvi Institute, 1985), 182-
189. Also see Netanel Lorkh, Korot Milkhemet ha-Atsma’ut (Givatayim, Yediot Ahronoth, 1989), 201-202. For further
details about Shaltiel see the chapter “Living in the Shadow of Shame: Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan”.
107
Uri Milstein raises doubts regarding the authenticity of this explanation. His assertion, however, is not supported
with any empirical evidence. Also, the narrative he depicts regarding the setup of the Burstein Committee flaws with
empirical mistakes. See Milstein, Left to Die, 203-205 and compare to this chapter.
108
IDFA 289-580/1956, Nitzanim to Ben-Gurion, March 13, 1949. A copy of the letter members of Nitzanim sent on
March 13 and 21, 1949 to IDF Chief of Staff Dori is available at IDFA 432-1308/1950.

53
and Yitzhak Pundak. Following this letter the Defense Ministry and the IDF decided to investigate

the events quickly. 109

This time Burstein was appointed to investigate the event as chairman of a three member

committee, which included first-deputy Shimshon Amitai, and Lieutenant Colonel Yitzhak Levi

(Levitsah),110 who in the two months that preceded the establishment of the Committee served

under the command of Shaltiel in Jerusalem.111 Dilemmas relating to evacuation of civilians under

fire were, therefore, not a new topic also for Levi.

The setup of the Burstein Committee points to the confusion and mayhem that

characterized the defense establishment at that time. In fact, one week after the Burstein Committee

was established on the instructions of Ben-Gurion, the Chief of Staff appointed another committee

to investigate the issue. This committee was dismantled two days after it was launched for the

simple reason that there was no need for it.112 Additionally, on May 2 of that year, namely two

weeks after the Burstein Committee had ended its work, the director general of the Ministry of

Defense suggested to Ben-Gurion that a committee of three public figures be established to look

into the events and issue recommendations about the fall of “Nitzanim, Sha’ar ha-Golan and

Masada because the people of these farming communities continue to demand an investigation and

if the investigation was not carried out at that time then it is a wound that will remain for years to

come.”113 These words reflect what has been a common Israeli notion already at this preliminary

109
See the correspondence between David Shaltiel and David Ben-Gurion (March 18, 1949) and between Nehemiyah
Argov and the IDF Inspection Department (March 23, 1949) at IDFA 182-129/1951 and 1022-922/1975, respectively.
110
IDFA 182-129/1951, A. Aronov to Minister of Defence and IDF Chief of Staff, April 17, 1949.
111
Golani, Mateh Mahoz Yerushalayim, 192, fn. 4.
112
Ya’akov Dori appointed the second investigation committee on March 30, 1949. The committee was manned by
three officers: Nahum Spiegel (Chairman), Nehemiyah Burstein and Emanuel Handler. It was dismantled on April 1 st,
1949 (See the appointment letters at IDFA 432-1308/1950).
113
IDFA 289-580/1956, Eliezer Perry to David Ben-Gurion, May 2, 1949.

54
phase in the history of the country, that is, before the Israeli Commissions of Inquiry Law, 5729-

1968 had been put into law: commissions of inquiry could function as effective agents of memory,

which have the capacity to clarify matters of vital public importance, and set straight the historical

record.114

The Burstein Committee finished its work on April 15, 1949, and submitted its report to

David Ben Gurion two days later. It received testimony from nineteen people, including Avidan,

Kovner and Pundak. Each one of these three claimed, in his own way, that as a result of the concern

over demoralization among the fighting forces, the publication of the combat leaflet on June 1948

was a justified step, or as Kovner put it: “The order was written not for Nitzanim but rather for

those who were still at war.”115

The report that was submitted by the Burstein Committee opened with a review of the

forces that were in the Nitzanim area at the time that preceded the battle. The investigation revealed

that, in term of equipment and weapons, Nitzanim was distinctly disadvantaged compared to the

Egyptian enemy, since Nitzanim was de facto the weakest point among the Israeli peripheral

settlements. The Committee also determined that in this respect, the Givati Brigade could not have

done anything to better Nitzanim’s condition, and provide it with further weapons. The Committee

went on to describe the events of the battle itself but gave most of its attention to the issues

pertaining to the combat leaflet and the question of what the Givati Brigade knew about the events

that took place in Nitzanim in the hours preceding its publication.

114
About the Israeli Commission of Inquiry Law, 5729-1968 and its history see Avigdor Klagsbald, Tribunals of
Inquiry (Jerusalem 2001).
115
IDFA 182-129/1951, 43.

55
 The investigation revealed that the picture of the battle that Avidan had was mistaken.116

The Givati command assumed that the battle was short; that most of the Israeli fatalities were killed

after their surrendering to the enemy but not during the battle; that the commander of the Israeli

force was killed shortly after the beginning of the events, and that most of the members of Nitzanim

(as opposed to the people of Givati) did not take an active part in the fighting but rather preferred

to hide in the bunkers. In fact, however, the battle lasted for fifteen hours and the defenders of the

Kibbutz—including the people of Nitzanim who did not fall short in their battle efforts compared

with the Givati soldiers—fought as best they could even after the enemy succeeded in breaking

through the fences of the kibbutz. The commander in charge, Avraham Schwarzstein, displayed

bravery in his command throughout the battle and reported the surrender only once the battle was

determined. The inquiry revealed that he was shot dead while marching towards the enemy while

waving a white flag. Nitzanim, therefore, fell not due to Israeli defeatism but rather due to an

overall Egyptian advantage, and topographic conditions that favored the enemy.

Referring to the combat leaflet the committee adopted the position of Avidan and Kovner

and determined that its publication was a need of the hour, that is, a “completely justified” step,

and a very important tool in the Givati Brigade's war against defeatism and low spirits. However,

the Committee added that there was no doubt that the leaflet was libelous towards the people of

the kibbutz. It therefore recommended that “the fighters of Nitzanim i.e. the soldiers of Givati and

the Kibbutz members, be given full rehabilitation.” Also, it added that “in light of the wide

circulation of the “Failure” [the heading given to the combat leaflet], even beyond the round of the

Brigade and the southern command, care should be given so that the truth about the battle of

116
See note 65 above.

56
Nitzanim be brought to the public’s awareness.”117 The report ended with a condemnation of the

Committee of the attempt to blame the Givati command for neglecting Nitzanim for political

reasons. By doing so, the Committee did not try to deny the fact that the amount of weapons of the

settlements in the area, including in Nitzanim, was influenced by political pressure exerted on the

military command. Also, the Committee determined that this bad form must be fought against, and

that the Givati Brigade in general and the 53rd Battalion in particular “could do very little to remedy

the situation.”118

While the Committee acknowledged the importance of the dissemination of its conclusions

in public, the publication of the report was not taken for granted by the IDF. In a letter that Chief

of Staff Dori sent to the Minister of Defense, when the Committee ended its work, he asked Ben-

Gurion for clear guidance concerning the “level of publicity (Pirsum) it should be given.” Dori

also asked if it would be enough to pass the report on exclusive viewing by the Nitzanim

community.119 Specific guidance was most likely not given to him. However, the decision of the

Committee to make its conclusions public was implemented in practice due to the intense

117
IDFA 182-129/1951, 37.
118
Ibid, pages 36 and 29, respectively. The topic of a would-be political discrimination of different kibbutzim during
the 1948 War continues to stand at the heart of an ongoing public and scholarly controversy. Claims regarding the
discrimination of Nitzanim during the war were raised in recent decades on many occasions. See for example Al ha-
Mishmar, December 26, 1983; Sue Fishkoff, “Surviving Shame,” The Jerusalem Post, May 3, 1995, 10; Shlomo
Nakdimon, “Hithadesh ha-Kerav ‘al Nitzanim,” Yediot Ahronoth (Holiday Edition), May 3, 1995, 16-19; Ha-Kibbutz,
December 31, 1998, 12-13; Ada Ushpiz, “Youth in Tel-Aviv, Death in Nitzanim,” Haaretz (Holiday Edition), October
10, 2003, 23-24; Ofer Aderet, “Tell Dani that he had a Mother,” Haaretz (Weekend Section), October 7, 2011, 12-13,
and Milstein, Left to Die. The counter argument according to which Nitzanim was not politically discriminated is also
available in several sources. See for example Yisra’el Galili, “Ha-Emet ‘al Nitzanim,” Yediot Ahronoth, January 9,
1984; Avihai Becker, “Bati le-Vakesh Slihah,” Haaretz, April 23, 2004, and more. The fact that both Nitzanim and
Sha'ar ha-Golan complained about discrimination in allocation of weapons, i.e. two kibbutzim who were affiliated
with two different kibbutz movements, indicates that political consideration were not the main reason for the poor
weapons the kibbutzim had had in their disposal. In other words, the kibbutzim first and foremost paid the price of the
little weapons the Israeli military establishment could allocate during the 1948 War.
119
IDFA 432-1308/1950, Ya’akov Dori to David Ben-Gurion, April 24, 1949.

57
commemoration activity of Nitzanim, which was fully backed by its kibbutz movement of Ha-

No’ar Ha-Tsiyoni.

The Burstein Committee therefore did not ignore the military failure that was part of the

battle over Nitzanim. It affirmed the account of the locals and acknowledged the difficult

circumstances that led to their defeat. So it happened that the demand of the kibbutz to vindicate

and clear its name by the establishment was seemingly fulfilled in toto. However, as we have seen

at the beginning of this chapter, the feeling of guilt associated with the destruction of the kibbutz

continued to accompany its members decades after the Burstein Committee finished its work. It

therefore might be concluded, as many scholars and laymen have indeed insisted, that the

Committee failed in its task, for it was not able to erase the public disgrace of the condemnation

that was brought on Nitzanim.

The next part of the chapter challenges this conclusion by way of focusing on three central

questions, which are: 1) What lay at the foundation of the feeling that the mark of disgrace was

not removed from Nitzanim? 2) How did the kibbutz react to that feeling?, and 3) What can be

learned from the struggle of Nitzanim on its historical image regarding the ability of a commission

of inquiry to function as an effective agent of memory? The following pages suggest that Nitzanim

was in fact able to leverage the work of the Burstein Committee in a way that ultimately turned

the kibbutz into a symbol of heroism in the 1948 War.

Kibbutz Commemorative Activity

The people of Nitzanim saw in the Burstein report the beginning of a long and calculated road

towards salvaging the name of the kibbutz. This path was followed with the backing of Ha-No’ar

Ha-Tsiyoni movement, the Givati Brigade, the IDF, and the Ministry of Defense.

58
 In the run up to the first anniversary of the battle the Chief of Staff sent a personal letter to

the kibbutz in which he backed the findings of the investigation.120 In his letter, General Dori wrote

that the Givati Brigade order was, in fact, “written with the desired intention to strengthen the spirit

of the defenders of the southern district [but it] did not reflect the whole truth about the defense of

the Nitzanim group . . . [I]t is regrettable that without malice things were said in that order that

should not have been said.” The story of the group, the Chief of Staff determined, gives “honest

testimony to the desperate struggle that honors all those who fought bitterly till the last bullet.

What happened to Nitzanim happened also in other posts whose residents defended bravely till the

last possible moment.” Naturally, these words were received with great joy in the kibbutz, and the

letter was even sent by Nitzanim for safe keeping in the IDF archives, who claimed it to be “a

document of military and historic importance.”121

The first anniversary of the battle was marked with a festive commemoration during which

a center for immigrant youth was established. Among the speakers in the event, which was broadly

covered in the daily press, was an officer from the Givati Brigade who stressed that the defense of

Nitzanim “was one of the brilliant chapters in our war for the State of Israel. The fighters of

Nitzanim, residents and soldiers alike wrote in blood a glorious page in the annals of the struggle

for our independence. They carried out honorably the holy task (ha-mesimah ha-kedoshah) that

was bestowed upon them.”122 From this it is clear that the IDF and Givati took a patent and public

position in supporting the kibbutz.

120
IDFA 306-758/1953, Yaakov Dori to Nitzanim, May 26, 1949.
121
Nitzanim Archives, Nitzanim to the IDF Archives, June 6, 1949.
122
I borrow the (Hebrew) quote from Nitzanim, Nitzanim Ba-Matzor uva-Ma’arakha: Bimelot Shanah la-Ma’arakhah
(Jerusalem, Ha-Shilo’ah, 1950), 56. Between May 27 and May 29, 1949 the daily press covered widely the
commemoration ceremony that was held in Nitzanim on the first anniversary of the battle. By and large, the press
presented the kibbutz and its defenders as heroes. See for example the accounts in the newspapers of Haboker, Hador,
Davar, ‘Al ha-Mishmar and Ma’ariv.

59
 The annual commemoration ceremony became a tradition that lasts until this day in

Nitzanim. In the past, the kibbutz invited senior public figures who honored the kibbutz by their

presence. When they could not attend they sent the kibbutz a letter of support. One such public

figure was David Ben Gurion who, on the tenth anniversary of the battle, wrote a letter to the

kibbutz in which he commended the “fearless stance [of the people of Nitzanim] as defenders who

risked their lives for the ideal of their life has the force of a supreme human victory.” Ben-Gurion

added that “together with all the people of Israel I lower my head before the heroes of Nitzanim

who made the ultimate sacrifice that was not in vain.”123 Furthermore, in a letter Ben-Gurion sent

to the kibbutz on July 22, 1962, he praised “the heroes of Nitzanim . . . [who] stood bravely and

their bravery will shine for generations.”124 For the fifteenth anniversary of the fall of the kibbutz,

he shared his personal feelings with the members: “In my heart,” he wrote, “I unite and join you

as one in recalling the memory of our fighters who will never—I am certain—disappear from the

hearts of this nation.”125 There are additional examples indicating the strong support that

representatives of the military and political establishment gave the kibbutz from the end of the

1940s onwards. This acknowledgment was accompanied by the kibbutz’s own work of

commemoration.

Over the years, Nitzanim published several books laying out its history in general and the

1948 War in particular. It also maintained relations with external bodies that dealt with the subject.

In 1949, for instance, the secretariat of Nitzanim initiated contact with the IDF archives in order

to receive information concerning the fallen victims of the kibbutz for the purpose of publishing a

123
David Ben-Gurion to members of Nitzanim May 19, 1958. See David Ben-Gurion, Mi-Levl el Lev: Devarim el
Horim Shakulim (Tel-Aviv 1976), 96. The Chief Sephardi Rabbi Yitzhak Nisim sent to Nitzanim a similar letter on
May 16, 1958.
124
Nitzanim Archives, David Ben-Gurion to Kibbutz Nitzanim, July 22, 1962.
125
The letter was quoted by Davar, May 24, 1963.

60
commemorative (Yizkor) book in their honor.126 In that year a booklet entitled Nitzanim was

published on behalf of the leadership of Ha-No’ar Ha-Tsiyoni in Uruguay, which included, among

other things, testimony about the battle by one of the members of the kibbutz. A year later Nitzanim

also published the book Nitzanim Ba-Matsor uva-Ma’arakhah [Nitzanim Under the Siege and in

the Battle] which commemorated the memory of the fallen “with a holy tremble,” while

highlighting the strong stance of the kibbutz in the face of an enemy superior in quantity and in

quality.127 The book was published in two editions. It attracted the attention of the Ministry of

Education and Culture, and the department for commemoration of soldiers in the IDF, which asked

that the book be distributed among students, soldiers and public libraries.128

An additional commemoration booklet was published by the kibbutz in 1962 in which

Shimon Avidan examined issues pertaining to the fall of the kibbutz.129 In a short article about the

role of Nitzanim in the campaign, Avidan described the difficult situation of the kibbutz in the

months preceding the battle that took place on June 7. Avidan highlighted the problem of defense

due to the geographical location of the kibbutz; the meager weaponry that Nitzanim had at its

disposal and the numerical superiority of the Egyptian forces. He summed up by stressing the

bravery of the kibbutz defenders, writing: “Nitzanim fell in battle, in combat, and for that same

reason was also resurrected! Thirty three heroes, community members and soldiers lost their lives.

A precious price but not in vain. The defenders of Nitzanim gave us another day, more hours to

get organized for the continuation [of the battle].”130 Even though Avidan’s account does not

126
Nitzanim Archives, Nitzanim to the Yizkor Book Editorial, IDF Archives, June 6, 1949.
127
Nitzanim, Nitzanim Ba-Matzor uva-Ma’arakha, pages 3, 18 and more.
128
Nitzanim Archives, The Ministry of Education and Culture to Nitzanim, May 16, 1951, and The Military
Department for Commemoration of Soldiers, December 14, 1952. Some independent scholars also requested Nitzanim
to send them a copy of Nitzanim Ba-Matzor uva-Ma’arakha. See, for example, the letter of Gabriel Arieli (May 27,
1952) and Avigdor Shaham (August 6, 1964).
129
Shimon Avidan, “Tafkid Nitzanim ba-Ma’arakhah,” in Nitzanim (Israel, Mekorot 1962), 35-37. A copy of the
booklet is available at YTA 12-13/11c14.
130
Ibid, 37.

61
include a direct reference to the combat leaflet, he implicitly refers to the lack of accuracy

associated with its publication. Avidan does so without regret, highlighting the strategic

importance of the battle and the high price in lives lost.

The historiographical activity of the kibbutz was also apparent in the Givati Brigade’s

initiative to publish a comprehensive book about its wartime activities.131 The section relating to

Nitzanim was written, in fact, in cooperation with the kibbutz, which was asked to give its opinion

of, and comments on, an advance draft sent by the author. In response, the kibbutz gave general

approval, responded to a list of questions that was directed to it, and made several corrections.132

It devoted special attention to a part that discusses the atmosphere in Givati following the battle.

The kibbutz secretariat wrote to the Ministry of Defense’s publishing house, Ma’arakhot: “It is

our opinion that if the combat leaflet titled ‘Failure’ is published then the letter of Chief of Staff

Yaacov Dori [of May 26, 1949] that discusses the events of Nitzanim should also be published.”

This request was accepted in full with an additional comment that “the wrong impression was

created that Nitzanim surrendered before no other options were exhausted.”133 From this, too, it is

apparent that Givati and Nitzanim were in agreement about the way the battle unfolded.

The kibbutz continued to be watchful and to make contact with additional individuals who

engaged in the story of Nitzanim, but were not exact enough, or did not pressent it in a way that

the kibbutz expected or wanted. This included authors, journalists, and tour guides. In April 1958,

for example, the kibbutz lodged a complaint to the Davar newspaper about an inaccuracy in an

article referring to the kibbutz in relation to central events of the 1948 War.134 The article briefly

131
Nitzanim Archives, Avraham Ayalon to Nitzanim, January 11, 1953.
132
YTA 12-13/11c15, Nitzanim to the Ministry of Defense Press (Ma’arakhot), January 27, 1953.
133
Ayalon, The Givati Brigade Facing the Egyptian Intruder, 163. Dori’s letter appears on page 165. One should add
that the survey about Nitzanim (151-163) begins with a footnote, according to which the section is based, inter alia,
on a booklet by Nitzanim and the Burstein report (p. 151).
134
Yoel Markus, “Medinah be-Matsor Ne’eveket ‘al Bithonah,” Davar, April 24, 1958.

62
noted that Nitzanim “fell and 160 of its people were taken captive.” In the complaint to Davar

kibbutz members wrote that “this sentence insulted us greatly.” They stressed that on the day the

kibbutz fell there were [only] 130 people there of whom 32 were killed and dozens were injured.”

The members of Nitzanim closed the letter by saying that the article “caused a storm in the kibbutz,

and we will not rest until this is remedied in a satisfactory way and place.”135

Another example of the active approach by Nitzanim, this time from 1976, was a complaint

the kibbutz lodged against the Ministry of Defense about the way in which it was depicted in a

book of commemoration (Yizkor) published by the Ministry. In a letter sent by the kibbutz’s patron,

Minister of Tourism, Moshe (Kolodni) Kol, to the Minister of Defense, Shimon Peres, the former

claimed that the portrayal of Nitzanim in the book, particularly in comparison to the way kibbutz

Yad-Mordechai was depicted, was discriminatory. According to Kol the book “does not reflect the

historical truth and wrongs the heroes of Nitzanim.”136 In response, Peres sent Kol a personal letter

conceding that his comment “is most noteworthy,” and that the Ministry intends to “correct this if

and when an additional edition of the booklet is published.”137 And, in fact, in the 1977 edition,

the part about which Kol complainted, regarding both Nitzanim and Yad-Mordechai, was

removed.138 One can easily add additional examples from later years, during which Nitzanim

raised similar complaints concerning inaccuracies and historiographical wrongs towards the

kibbutz that were apparently made by the Ma’ariv newspaper, the Ministry of Tourism, the Kol

Yerushalim newspaper, the writer Uri Avnery, the Shorashim association that conducted a tour of

135
Nitzanim Archives, Nitzanim to Davar, April 29, 1958.
136
YTA 12-13/11c15, Moshe Kol to the Minister of Defense Shimon Peres, May 23, 1976. In his letter Kol referred
to page 64 in the Izkor book by Ilana Shamir (ed.), Yom ha-Zikaron le-Halalei Tsahal 5736 (Bat-Yam, The Ministry
of Defense Press, 1976). Kol did not, however, mention the reference the book makes to Nitzanim on page 62.
137
YTA, 25-M/11c/15, Shimon Peres to Moshe Kol, June 1976.
138
Ilana Shamir (ed.), Yom ha-Zikaron 5737 (Bat-Yam, The Ministry of Defense Press, 1977), 57-63. One sentence
that does concern Nitzanim appears in both the 1976 and 1977 editions. See ibid, 54, and compare to Shamir, Yom ha-
Zikaron le-Halalei Tsahal 5736, 62.

63
the kibbutz, the historian Zeev Tsahor, and more.139 Each and every one of these received from

Nitzanim a detailed comment and correction to which was often added a copy of one of the kibbutz

books.

The historical labors of Nitzanim led to the publication of the book Nitzanim: A Settlement

Built Twice by Tzvika Dror.140 In addition, there was an uptick in commemorative activity from

1963 onwards. Moshe Kol headed the effort, which was funded, inter alia, by governmental and

official bodies such as the Ministry of Defense, the Ministry of Labor, the Jewish Agency, and the

Ashkelon Beach Regional Council. This led to the setup of the Nitzanim Memorial Hall Museum

in the kibbutz, which tells the story of the battle and commemorates the memory of the fallen

combatants.141 On the occasion of the inauguration of the museum in 1966, the kibbutz issued a

special booklet. The audiovisual presentation it contains was updated several times over the years

in cooperation with the IDF and private production companies.142 According to the New York-

based Forward, as of 1998 some 15,000 people visit the museum yearly.143

In the same year the museum opened, an initiative to renovate the old Nitzanim field where

the actual battle took place in 1948 was launched. At the site, The Woman of Valor Center was

built, commemorating Israeli female fighters, including the three women who were killed in the

battle of 1948.144 The person behind the initiative was the commander of the 53rd battalion, Yitzhak

139
Nitzanim Archives, Nitzanim to Ma’ariv, December 16, 1983; Ministry of Tourism to Nitzanim and Menachem
Gilar, July 7, 1985; Nitzanim and Nehamah Tarif to Azariya Alon, August 7, 1987; Nehama Tarif to Uri Avnery,
November 17, 1987; Nitzanim and Arie Adelheit to Shorashim group, September 6, 1990, and Nitzanim and Hadassa
Vidal to Ze’ev Tsahor, May 21, 1992.
140
See note 71 above.
141
Some details about the Nitzanim Memorial Hall are available on the kibbutz’s website at:
[Link]
142
Nitzanim Archives, Hanukat Beit ha-Hantsahah le-Halalei ha-Ma’arakhah: 18 Shanim le-Shihrur Nitzanim
(October 10, 1966).
143
Oded Lipschitz, “Kibbutz Nitzanim: Honor Restored,” Jewish Forward Weekly, April 20, 1984, 12.
144
The Women of Valor Center, Nitzanim was inaugurated on May 25, 1998 by representatives of Nitzanim, the IDF
and the government. Some details about the site are available at the website of the Jewish National Fund
([Link] and the Society for
Preservation of Israel Heritage Sites ([Link]

64
Pundak, who made the commemoration of Nitzanim his life’s mission. Pundak wrote extensively

about the events of the battle. For decades, he has maintained close contact with the members of

the kibbutz. In fact, as an act of solidarity with it, he asked to be buried in the kibbutz next to his

fallen comrades.145 His activities contributed significantly to the commemoration of Mira Ben-Ari,

the person in charge of Nitzanim’s communications, whose death in the battle was transformed

into a symbol of the 1948 War.146

Based on the public and establishment’s support that was bestowed on Nitzanim over the

years, one gets the impression that the work of the Burstein Committee was completed by the

kibbutz and organizations that supported it over the years. This is, however, not the way in which

the kibbutz founders and its second generation have seen things. A leitmotiv in the public discourse

and, to a great extent, in the research conducted on Nitzanim is the claim that the disgrace of the

combat leaflet has not been completely lifted from it. While one cannot question a subjective

feeling on the part of the people of the kibbutz, who were profoundly hurt by the combat leaflet,

two points must be added. First, with all the talk of heroism relating to Nitzanim, there are other

sources that tell the story of the battle without relying on the combat leaflet and the Burstein

Committee.147 In fact, it is difficult, if not impossible, to find a source that presents the combat

145
About Pundak, who celebrated his 100 th birthday in 2013, and about his commitment to the memorialization and
glorification of Nitzanim see Becker, “Bati Levakesh Selihah,” Haaretz, April 20, 2004 and Nir Mann, “Sipuru shel
Tat-Aluf Yitzhak Pundak,” Haaretz, May 20, 2011.
146
In recent years much has been written about Ben-Ari also in the daily press. See, for example, Ada Ushpiz,
“Ne’urim be-Tel-Aviv, Mavet be-Nitzanim,” Haaretz, October 8, 2003 and Ofer Aderet, “Tagidi le-Dani she-haitah lo
Imah,” Haaretz (Ha-Shavu’a), October 7, 2011, 12-15. Yehuda Amihai mentioned Ben-Ari in one of his poems about
the 1948 War: [Link] Also see the website of the Association
for Israelis of Central European Origin at:
[Link] (last visited on May 22, 2014).
147
See for example, Zeev Schiff and Eitan Haber, Associate Editor, Arieh Hashavia, Israel, Army and Defence: A
Dictionary (Tel-Aviv, Zmora, Bitan, Modan, 1976), 359; Netanel Lorkh, Milkhemet ha-Atsma’ut (Tel-Aviv 1957),
104-105 and compare to Lorkh, Milkhemet ha-Atsma’ut (1989), 333-334; Ephraim Talmi, Ma u-Mi: Leksikon
Milhemet ha-Atsma’ut (Tel-Aviv, Davar, 1964), 275-276; IDF History Department, Toldot Milhemet ha-Komemiyut,
227; Michaeli, Abandoned Settlements, 079-081 and Morris, 1948, 269-27. Also see the cluster of sources in Nitzanim,
Nitzanim Ba-matzor uva-Ma’arakha, 52-56.

65
leaflet as historically authentic. In other words, the claim frequently voiced that the kibbutz was

maligned is much more prevalent than written evidence of such slander. Furthermore, the assertion

that the ill-effects of the combat leaflet remained is, in fact, an organizing principle in the

glorification process of the kibbutz. That is to say, the recurring claim that the mark of the combat

leaflet has not been removed from Nitzanim has allowed the kibbutz to proclaim and reclaim its

honor time and time again. Over the years, the issue of the combat leaflet has been opened and

closed repeatedly.

The Nitzanim case was in fact “closed” on several occasions. In a letter that the members

of Nitzanim sent to David Ben-Gurion on May 22, 1958, that is, three days after receiving a letter

of recognition and thanks from him, the members thanked the prime minister for the support and

encouragement he bestowed on them. They were so grateful that they made it a point to mention

that the “bitterness of ten years that accumulated in our hearts was erased and forgotten by your

meaningful words.”148 Similar words were written by Moshe Kol five years later, in a letter to

Shimon Peres, who at the time served as deputy defense minister. In his letter, Kol thanked Peres

for the participation of the Ministry of Defense in funding the commemoration of the kibbutz. Kol

reminded the deputy minister that as opposed to the past, the image of the defenders of Nitzanim

is of heroes.149 Similar claims were made in different contexts many years later. In April 1988,

there was a reconciliation meeting attended by the son of Abba Kovner, who had passed away

several months earlier.150 At the end of the meeting, at which Yitzhak Pundak also participated, he

148
Nitzanim to Prime-Minister David Ben-Gurion, May 22, 1958.
149
Nitzanim Archives, Moshe Kol to Shimon Peres, May 3, 1963.
150
For various reasons, which are not entirely clear, an earlier meeting between Abba Kovner and member of Nitzanim
which was to take place in 1985 was eventually not realized. It so happened that the Nitzanim affair continues to hover
above Kovner’s reputation. See Porat, Beyond the Reaches of Our Soul, 277; Dina Porat, “Mi-Negba ‘ad Kerem
Shalom,” Ha’aretz, October 30, 2011; Uri Avneri, “Keni’at Nitzanim,” Haaretz, November 4, 2011. These sources
should be compared to other accounts, who present Kovner in a negative light. See for example Reznik, Budding from
the Ashes, 197-199 and Chamizer, Panta Rhei, 282; Pundak, Hamesh Mesimot, 152-157; Pundak, Be-Aharit ha-
Yamim, 182; Aryeh Dayan, “Kovner? Hu Mila Tafkid Shuli,” Haaretz, April 21, 2003 and more.

66
declared in a conciliatory yet determined tone that “[t]here was a document [i.e., combat leaflet],

and it is no longer! End of story!”151 In the case of the book written by Tzvika Dror, the secretary

of the kibbutz declared that “this book provides closure for the members of Nitzanim. We see in

the book a closing of the case.”152 It was, however, neither closed nor sealed—not completely, in

any case—but rather closed and opened time and time again.

The starkest example of the revival of the case of Nitzanim took place at the end of 1983,

following a report that was broadcast on what was then the only channel on Israeli TV, the Israeli

Broadcasting Authority (IBA). The report covered the re-establishment of the Givati Brigade that,

over the years, was drastically reorganized.153 In honor of the event, the journalist Ya’akov

Achimeir conducted an interview with the first brigade commander, Shimon Avidan, who

suggested filming the interview in Nitzanim. During the shooting of the report, Avidan was asked

if he regretted publishing the combat leaflet. He responded negatively, saying that the leaflet

reflected his feeling and the needs of the brigade as he understood them in the immediate wake of

the battle. He did, however, add that “in all likelihood and with the life experience I have gained

since, I would have drafted it slightly different. There was no intention to discredit Nitzanim but

rather the combatants, not to discredit but to motivate them.” Any alternative reading of the combat

leaflet was, according to Avidan, anachronistic. From that point forward, a snowball started

rolling. Avidan’s stance was used by the kibbutz’s secretariat for the purpose of public relations.

As a result of the show, it was written in the internal bulletin of the kibbutz that “[w]e initiated a

151
Oded Lipschitz, “Haya Mismakh – Ve-enenu ‘Od,” ‘Al ha-Mishmar, April 19, 1988.
152
Quoted in Shmulik Bador, “Traumat Nitzanim – ‘Ad Matai?,” Ha-Kibbutz, May 29, 1989 and compare to
“Nitzanim, Akheshav Tor ha-Mahazai,” Ha-Daf ha-Yarok, July 10, 1990, and to the letter by Nitzanim Archives to
Avraham Pavlovic, June 14, 1988.
153
The IBA broadcasted the report for the first time on December 12, 1983. It was rebroadcasted in late February 2012
to the request of its editor, Ya’akov Achimeir, shortly before he won the prestigious Israel Prize in the field of
communications.

67
“counter-attack”—in the press, in the IDF, on TV. Slowly but surely we have started to see good

coming out of a bad situation.”154

Three days after the airing of the report, two representatives of Nitzanim, Yitzhak Pundak

and kibbutz member Nehama Tarif, gave an interview to Israeli television and demanded a remedy

to the arguments Avidan made. The following day, the secretary of Nitzanim sent a letter to

Ya’akov Achimeir, arguing that “instead of correcting the insult that was done to the memory of

the fallen and their families the piece awakened frustration and bitterness.” 155 The letter revealed

the shock of the kibbutz over a story which gave the impression that the fall of Nitzanim was a

failure, in contrast to the story of kibbutz Negba. The members wrote that “the audience outside

of the community that forgot or was unaware of the combat leaflet was given a reminder or was

told clearly that the fall of Nitzanim was a failure.” The letter concluded with a demand “to remedy

the harm that was done as a result of the airing of the brigadier commander’s words and the combat

leaflet.” Achimeir’s response came shortly thereafter.156 First, he claimed that “the television did

in fact find it worthy to ‘complement’ his piece” by interviewing Pundak and Tarif. He was,

however, adamant that he was not responsible for Avidan’s comments or for the content of the

combat leaflet that had long been made public. It was the controversy about the report which led

to the gathering in the dining room with which this chapter begins.

The focus of the event was a first meeting between members of Nitzanim and Shimon

Avidan, who held to his position regarding the combat leaflet. Scores if not hundreds of kibbutz

members attended this charged and tense event. In a short interview given to Army Radio (Gale

Tzahal) just after the event, Avidan justified the publication of the combat leaflet, which, according

154
Nitzanim, Dapei Nitzanim, January 1984, 5.
155
Nitzanim Archives, Nitzanim to Ya’akov Achimeir, December 20, 1983, and compare to Tom Segev, “Giborim
Metim einam Metim,” Koteret Rashit (56) December 28, 1983, 22-24.
156
Nitzanim Archives, Ya’akov Achimeir to Yigal Ben Natan, December 26, 1983.

68
to him, was needed by the brigade at the time. He did, however, point out that, in retrospect, the

headline was mistaken since the falling of the kibbutz was not the failure of Nitzanim but rather

of the Givati brigade.157 To dispel any doubt, he noted that “the defense of Nitzanim . . . should be

viewed as one of the tales of bravery of the 1948 War.” As mentioned above, Avidan made this

point as early back as 1962.

Even though journalists were not allowed to take part in the event itself, the media widely

covered it. The press stressed the conciliatory atmosphere that accompanied the meeting. The

impression left was that the mark of shame hovering over the kibbutz had been removed along

with the feeling of rage against Avidan on the part of the kibbutz members.158 Furthermore, the

event gave another push to the commemoration efforts of the kibbutz. In a meeting that took place

between the people of Nitzanim and the IDF Chief Education Officer two days after the meeting

with Avidan, it was agreed that education NCOs and officers of the IDF learn about the battle that

took place at Nitzanim; that the IDF write a relevant lesson-plan for it, and that tour guides be

given training on the topic.159 Such an approach, emphasizing the “bravery of the people of

Nitzanim and the camaraderie that was displayed there,” became part of the IDF curriculum.160

The lesson also mentions the wrong that was done to Nitzanim and stresses the fact that

“notwithstanding the [Burstein] committee’s report and the letter of the Chief of Staff [May 26,

1949], not everyone knows the full facts as they happened.” Accordingly, the goal of the lesson

157
A transcription of the interview is available in Dapei Nitzanim, January 1984, 16. Avidan made this point also on
later occasions. See Dror, Nitzanim: A Settlement Built Twice, 159 and compare to Dagan and Yakir, Shimon Avidan,
147.
158
See, for example, Rafi Gaon, “Mefaked Givat Hitpayes ‘im Kibbutz Nitzanim,” Haaretz, December 29, 1983;
“Hukal lanu, Lefahot Mevakshim Slihah ‘al Sevel shel Shanim,” Maariv, December 29, 1983; “Husar ha-Ketem me-
‘al Nitzanim,” Hatsofe, December 30, 1983; Yisrael Galili, “Ha-Emet ‘al Nitzanim,” Yedioth Ahronot, January 9,
1984, and compare to Eitan More, “Shimon Avidan Nitkabel bi-Keri’ot Za’am,” Yediot Ahronoth, December 29, 1983.
159
Nitzanim Archives, Military Assistant to IDF Chief Education Officer to Yiagal Ben-Natan, December 29, 1983.
160
IDFA 31-928/2005, 1.

69
was to expose the truth about what happened in Nitzanim and to educate IDF soldiers.161 Not

surprisingly, one of the members of the kibbutz sarcastically thanked Achimeir for the piece that

he had aired, and especially for the chain reaction it caused.162

The catharsis was short lived. Before too long, the case was reopened, as reported in the

popular daily newspaper Yediot Ahronoth. The catalyst was the book by Tzvika Dror.163 One of

the readers who lost his sister in the battle of Nitzanim demanded that the government establish an

additional commission of inquiry to examine the circumstance of the fall of the kibbutz. In a

consultation held by the Deputy Defense Minister, former IDF Chief Gen. (Res.) Mordechai

(Mota) Gur, with Yitzhak Pundak, the latter did not recommended another committee.164 “It would

appear to me” he wrote to Gur, “that a renewed inquiry of this unfortunate event will not bring any

additional discoveries to what we already know and will not contribute anything. A renewed

investigation will reawaken feuds and injuries that have, to a certain extent, already healed with

the passage of time; we should, in my opinion, let bygones be bygones.” And yet, Pundak himself

did not leave the dead alone and continued to work tirelessly to remove the stain against the kibbutz

even in later years.

Epilogue
This chapter reconstructs a decades-long struggle over the place of Kibbutz Nitzanim in Israel’s

historical memory and the mythologizing of the kibbutz. The first phase in that process were the

demands of the kibbutz’s members to establish a military commission of inquiry. Officially, the

161
Ibid, 13. One should add that following an earlier request Nitzanim made in August 1983 to the IDF, the name of
the kibbutz was added to the presentation of the IDF Museum. See the letter by Y. Shahaf, The Director of the IDF
Museum to Yiagal Ben-Natan, August 4, 1983.
162
Nitzanim, Dapei Nitzanim, January 1984, 17 and compare to Reznik, Budding from the Ashes, 200.
163
Shlomo Nadkimon, “Hithadesh ha-Kerav ‘al Nitzanim,” Yediot Ahronoth (Musaf ha-‘Atsma’ut) May 3, 1995.
164
Nitzanim Archives, Yitzhak Pundak to (Mordechai) Mota Gur, December 7,1993, and Joseph Doriel to Mordechai
Gur, April 5, 1995.

70
Burstein Committee was charged with clarifying the circumstances that led to the destruction of

the kibbutz, and to author an official narrative about the battle of June 7, 1948. In practice,

members of Nitzanim expected the Commission not just to write the history of the battle, but to

function as an agent of memory, revising the image of the kibbutz in Israeli historical memory.

The Burstein Committee, which was established in 1949, indeed reached the conclusion that the

Givati Brigade and the combat leaflet by Abba Kovner was unjust to Nitzanim. Retrospectively,

this was the first step in a prolonged and systematic fight over the reputation of the kibbutz in the

national collective memory.

Members of Nitzanim acknowledged in the late 1940s that commemoration and

mythologization were not one-time projects accomplished only with a commission of inquiry.

They considered these goals as work-in-progress, and began to mythologize their dead peers by a

variety of commemorative ceremonies and historiographical means.165 Put differently, the people

of Nitzanim realized that the preliminary “exoneration” issued by the Burstein Committee, was a

necessary but insufficient means in fully rehabilitating the reputation of Kibbutz Nitzanim.166

Although the military establishment and high-ranking state officials publically

acknowledged Nitzanim’s bravery quite a few times, the kibbutz was compelled to reclaim its

honor over and over again. Furthermore, the closure and reopening of the affair time and time

again, was one of the means that enabled Nitzanim to continue solidifying its reputable status in

165
For more about commemorative ceremonies as a means to forge collective memory see Paul Connerton, How
Societies Remember (Cambridge and New York 1989). For fascinating studies about public campaigns to forge
American collective memory see Edward T. Linenthal, Preserving Memory: The Struggle to Create America's
Holocaust Museum (New York 1995); John E. Bodnar, Remaking America: Public Memory, Commemoration and
Patriotism in the Twentieth Century (Princeton, N.J. 1993).
166
I put the noun “exoneration” in scare quotes here, because, unlike the courts, which reach a verdict regarding the
guilt or innocence of a defendant, commissions of inquiry are not expected to come to terms with anyone who might
have failed in fulfilling his or her duty, rather to uncover the truth. Put another way, while the Burstein Committee
indeed rehabilitated the tarnished reputation of Nitzanim, the kibbutz was never officially charged with any
wrongdoing. Accordingly, it was not exonerated in the standard legal sense of the term.

71
the history of the war. This was not just a cynical technique, since members of Nitzanim lived in

the shadow of the 1948 trauma for decades. Nevertheless, in attempting to erase the combat leaflet

from the history of the kibbutz, the expectations of Nitzanim were unrealistic.

The publication of the combat leaflet in June 1948 made it integral to the wartime history

of the kibbutz. No commission of inquiry could alter this fact. The question is therefore not whether

one should read the leaflet or not, but rather how it should be read as a historical document.

Similarly, the questions about whether the publication of the leaflet in the immediate wake of the

battle was necessary, and whether Abba Kovner should have phrased it in the way he did, are

ethical questions that exceed the scope of this chapter. What is certain about the combat leaflet is

that this historical document opens a window to the mentality of the budding Israeli society, or at

least to the way in which Israelis imagined themselves in 1948. In the background of the leaflet’s

publication stand Zionist values such as the farmer-fighter ethos and the myth of Tel-Hai, as well

as operational considerations that guided Shimon Avidan, the commander of the Givati Brigade,

during one of the most challenging phases of the war. By presenting the members of Nitzanim as

a small minority that broke the social code of the Yishuv and the Zionist movement, Kovner

pointed to the line between normative behavior of non-combatants under fire, and what was

presented as non-normative behavior. Any reading of the leaflet that ignores these factors and

dismisses it as purely immoral document would take it out of context.

In the next chapter, I turn my focus to two kibbutzim whose experiences mirrored that of

Nitzanim. The two—Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan—were also destroyed by enemy forces during

the 1948 War. Like Nitzanim, they were publically condemned for turning their backs on

fundamental Zionist values and were “exonerated” by military and kibbutz inquiries. Unlike

Nitzanim, however, which used the inquiry into its battle to alter how it was perceived in the

72
history of the war, Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan reacted totally differently to their haunting past,

and did not use their inquiries to mythologize themselves. As a result, they lost the potential to

capitalize on the inquiries as agents of historical memory. A comparison between the case of

Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan, on the one hand, and the story of Nitzanim, on the other hand,

therefore illuminates two different ways to cope with a trauma and use the work of commissions

of inquiry for the sake of memory formation.

73
Appendix A – The Combat Leaflet of June 9, 1948

The Southern Front,

The Givati Brigade, Combat Headquarter

Nitzanim fell.

The reliable report [about the battle] is still not available [to us]. The details that would

allow us to summarize the battle, let alone to accurately assess the actions of the men of Nitzanim,

are simply unavailable. Therefore, we shall not accuse but rather say what needs to be said in face

of potential hazards that may occur in the coming days, in the coming hour. And even if

saying it will be blunt and cruel, it must be said now, before we face future dangers. The fall of

Nitzanim – is a failure. A severe failure. And the failure does not lie in the fall of the settlement.

Nitzanim is not the first [Jewish] settlement that fell into enemy hands [during the war[. For we

stood few against many, for we were insufficiently armed in front of properly armed [soldiers].

For we were civilian-defenders [who stood] against a standing army of intruders . . . But in the

future we shall prove superior. And the time is close. Very close. But until it happens, until then,

we shall not stop hitting the enemy—so it will not exterminate us first—with a mighty hand, with

much wisdom, because of the lack of an alternative, through the might of self-sacrifice, with the

supreme force of the Hebrew defender . . . And even if the enemy temporarily overcame a besieged

little settlement—it paid for that with hundreds of lives. For every stone of us, it paid with its

blood. And it was forced to think and calculate the price of its “victories”. . . In Nitzanim the

enemy might have learned, for the first time—something severe and surprising—that it could break


Emphasis in the original. My translation.

74
the defense wall of the Hebrew Yishuv within a few hours, to force it to surrender, and imprison

its fighters. . .

Fighters of the southern front, soldiers of the brigade, defenders of the settlements!

Nitzanim’s surrender—it is a time of much agony and of a deep and profound self-examination—

and a total self-examination means this: home – one does not protect [it] conditionally. Defense –

means: to prepare the defense. To prepare: with all of one’s mental and physical forces! . . . It is

better to perish in the ruins of the house than to surrender to a murderous intruder. To surrender—

as long as the body is alive and the last bullet breathes in the magazine—it is a disgrace! To go to

the intruder’s prison – disgrace and death! Only to fight, to fight and fight on! By all means, under

all circumstances, unconditionally—for we shall prevail, and the victory is close.

75
 LIVING IN THE SHADOW OF SHAME: MASADA AND SHA’AR HA-GOLAN

Introduction

The dining room of kibbutz Sha’ar ha-Golan was full of people on the night of June 8, 2001. The

extreme heat of the Jordan Valley in the early summer added to the tense environment. It was,

after all, the first public discussion ever held in the kibbutz about the events that took place in

Sha’ar ha-Golan and the nearby kibbutz of Masada during the 1948 War. The Syrian assault on

the Jordan Valley, in general, and the two settlements, in particular, began just a few hours after

the inception of the State of Israel on May 14, 1948. The attack reached its zenith four days later,

when the settlers of Sha’ar ha-Golan and Masada acknowledged virtual defeat.167 The ongoing

bombardment from the air and ground forced them to make the difficult decision—reached without

the approval of the military authorities—that they had no alternative but to desert their settlements.

Originally, they planned to withdraw temporarily to recuperate and rearm. But the plan was only

partly realized. By the time the settlers returned to their kibbutzim on the night of May 18 and

early in the morning of May 19, the enemy had taken over the area. Supported by local Palestinian

Arabs, the Syrian army overran Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan, which were reduced to rubble within

hours. It took until May 23 for the Israeli forces to recapture the kibbutzim, which marked the

beginning of a prolonged reconstruction process requiring months of intense work. Yet, the

renovation of the physical ruins was just a small part of a much more complicated process that

obliged kibbutz members to respond to the severe blow to their reputations delivered not by the

enemy, but by other Israelis.

The most comprehensive study regarding the battle over Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan was written by Assaf Agin,
167

“Netisha – Parashat ‘Amidatam u-Nefilatam shel Sha’ar ha-Golan u-Masada be-Milhemet ha-‘Atsma’ut – Mai 1948,”
Dani Harrari (ed.), Homat Magen: Shemonim Shanah le-Irgun ha-Haganah: ‘Alei Zayit va-Herev 4 (Tel-Aviv, The
Ministry of Defense Press, The Center for Defense Studies, 2002), 205-261.
 As in the case discussed in the previous chapter about kibbutz Nitzanim, the people of

Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan were harshly condemned for their actions and non-actions during the

war. Similarly to the inhabitants of Nitzanim, they were portrayed as cowards and traitors after

enemy forces demolished their settlements during the 1948 War. Furthermore, just as Nitzanim

was “exonerated” by the Burstein Committee, Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan were also vindicated

by a military inquiry [the Shaltiel Committee168], which concluded that members of the two

kibbutzim deserve to carry themselves “with their heads held up high.” In fact, two kibbutz

inquiries by Gordonia and Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir—the kibbutz movements with which Masada and

Sha’ar ha-Golan were respectively affiliated—reached similar conclusions. Unlike Nitzanim,

which publicized the work of the Burstein Committee in its effort to elevate the kibbutz as a symbol

of heroism, Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan only began to leverage the work of their commissions of

inquiry toward the end of the 20th century. For almost half a century, the two kibbutzim did not

demand that their tarnished reputations be rehabilitated, either for external bodies, such as the

Israeli defense establishment, or for the kibbutzim themselves. Their attempt to claim their honor

more than half a century after the war was far too late in the context of the 1948 War, and too little

in the commemoration and mythologization processes. As a result, there was no substantial change

of their status in the history of the war.

This chapter reconstructs the way in which members of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan coped

with the trauma of the 1948 War over a period of about sixty years. The main argument is that the

passive approach by concerned parties in the aftermath of an inquiry resulted in the loss of that

commission’s potential to act as an effective agent of historical memory. This is especially evident

168
The Israeli Defense Forces and Defense Establishment Archives (hereafter: IDFA) 176-121/1950, David Shaltiel,
“Mikre ha-‘Azivah shel Sha’ar ha-Golan u-Masada,” November 17, 1948 (hereafter: the Shaltiel Report).
77
when examined in juxtaposition to kibbutz Nitzanim. As shown in the previous chapter, members

of that kibbutze shaped an enduring memory by mobilizing the work of a commission of inquiry.

This chapter begins with the public condemnation of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan in the

immediate wake of their destruction. The first section addresses the trauma of the 1948 War, the

two kibbutzims’ unwillingness or inability to cope with it until the early 2000s, and the more

widely shared opinion that, despite their findings, the Shaltiel Committee and the kibbutz inquiries

did not reverse the negative view that has dogged Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan since the

establishment of the state of Israel. The second section elaborates on the struggle to set up the

inquiries and discusses their findings, conclusions, and recommendations. The third section

focuses on the decision of the military establishment to censor the Shaltiel Report, which marked

the beginning of a stalemate in the public fight over the reputation of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan

that lasted for decades. The fourth and final section of the chapter assesses the passive approach

of the two kibbutzim as they failed to confront their past for over half a century.

As in the case of Nitzanim, this chapter does not seek to criticize the actions of people who

have lived with the trauma of the 1948 War for a long time. Furthermore, the chapter accepts the

scholarly assertion that the people of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan fought to the best of their

limited ability to defend their settlements during the war. That having been said, the chapter does

suggest that in comparison to their behavior on the battlefield—a topic addressed here for the sole

purpose of providing context—the members of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan were far less active

in the fight over their historical reputation. In the simplest of terms, they did not use the potential

of the Shaltiel and kibbutz inquiries to shape a lasting historical memory.

78
Stigma
The daily press, which covered the fighting in the Jordan Valley, paid scant attention to the battles

in Sha’ar ha-Golan and Masada. As a result, the rumor regarding an Israeli surrender reached the

public by other means, including the Palmach Bulletin (‘Alon ha-Palmach), which condemned

Sha’ar ha-Golan and Masada as early as May 31, 1948.169 The most prestigious arm of the Israeli

fighting forces left no room for doubt. More than just a military failure, the abandonment of

Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan was a moral one. The Palmach Bulletin minced no words in a piece

titled “Failure”:

Among the heroic actions of the defenders of the Jordan Valley . . . one should not ignore

an incredibly severe failure. The defenders of Sha’ar ha-Golan and Masada—in a moment

of weakness and bewilderment—needlessly abandoned their posts. Not only were these

two settlements . . . deserted—[their abandonment also] exposed the entire front, and a gate

was opened wide for the enemy. Was there a justification for this behavior? One should

say this with all severity and absolute openness: No! The men of Masada and Sha’ar ha-

Golan did not retreat during battle but rather abandoned the campaign. Those who were

entrusted with the gate to the Golan [Heights] should have stood by the gate; those who

had carried the name of Masada were not loyal to the symbol of freedom engraved on their

banner.170

169
For details about the Palmach see note 88 above.
170
‘Alon ha-Palmach (63), May 31, 1948, 4. The identity of the author of the piece—the former Palmach member and
novelist Nathan Shaham—was fully clarified only in 2001. While the secretariat of Sha’ar ha-Golan demanded to
clarify the matter with Shaham already in 1948, the latter refused to take part in the process (See the Sha’ar ha-Golan
Archives [hereafter: SHGA], correspondence between Sha’ar ha-Golan and the National Kibbutz Movement, June 21,
1948 and July 25, 1948). According to Shaham, he wrote the piece following a direct order of Palmach Chief Yigal
Alon. See Tom Segev, “Ha-Birur,” Haaretz, May 25, 2000, and the letter by Shaham to Haaretz, “Mi Hiber u-mi
Katav,” Haaretz, June 1, 2001.
79
 According to this harsh condemnation, members of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan had

abandoned their houses, jeopardized the entire Israeli defense line in the Jordan Valley, and failed

to live up to their legendary names. The two kibbutzim had been set up in 1937 as “Stock and

Watchtower” settlements, that is, as Jewish localities whose existence in rural areas served

strategic goals within the Zionist movement.171 Sha’ar ha-Golan, literally “Gate to the Golan,” is

located on the slopes of the Golan Heights, just a few miles south of the Lake of Galilee and very

close to the border between Israel, Syria, and Jordan. Any enemy trying to invade Israel from the

north or the east would have to either go through or around it. Likewise, Kibbutz Masada, which

sits right next to Sha’ar ha-Golan, is named after the ancient fortress of Masada, which was a

symbol of Jewish sacrifice and heroism for the Yishuv and nascent Israeli society. 172 The harsh

condemnation of Kibbutz Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan exposed, then, the gap between the goals

and values that the two kibbutzim were built upon and the actual ability of their members to adhere

to them. As sociologist Oz Almog points out, the message broadcast by the Palmach Bulletin

171
“Stock and watchtower settlements” was the name given to fifty-two Jewish settlements that were set up between
December 1936 and October 1939 as part of a program of the Haganah to expand the territory of a prospective Jewish
state. Each of the settlements was established under cover of night and included a watchtower surrounded by a fence.
Their combined contribution to the Yishuv— the pre-state Jewish community in Palestine—was basically tripartite.
Strategically, kibbutzim in general and stock and watchtower settlements in particular, were part of the Jewish
settlement map of Palestine. Economically, they supported the Yishuv by manufacturing agricultural goods. And
militarily, they provided the Yishuv full and part-time fighters who were affiliated with different paramilitary
organizations. For further details regarding the strategic role rural settlements played during the Yishuv period, see
Assnat Shiran, Stronghold Settlements (Savyon 1998) and Ilan Troen, “The Village as a military Outpost,” Imagining
Zion: Dreams, Designs, and Realities in a Century of Jewish Settlement (New Haven 2003), 62-81. For more about
stock and watchtower settlements, see Mordechai Naor (ed.), Yeme Homah u-Migdal, 1936-1939: Mekorot, Sikumim,
Parshiyot Nivharot ve-Homer ‘Ezer (Jerusalem 1987), and Mordechai Naor and Dan Giladi, Eretz Israel in the 20th
Century: From Yishuv to Statehood, 1900-1950 (Tel-Aviv 1990), 303.
172
Built by King Herod (37-4BCE) in the Judaea Desert, the fortress of Masada was the last place of refuge for
hundreds of Jewish rebels who escaped the Roman army during the “Great Revolt” of 66-73CE. Loyal to the idea of
dying for freedom, the 960 Jews preferred to commit collective suicide rather than fall into enemy hands. The story
of Masada therefore included contradictory features. While the rebels avoided clashing with the enemy and in fact
broke Jewish law by taking their own lives, they Yishuv viewed them as a heroic symbol of Jewish resistance for all
intents and purposes. Regarding the myth of Masada, see Yael Zerubavel, Recovered Roots: Collective Memory and
the Making of Israeli National Tradition (Chicago 1995) especially chapters 5 and 11; Nachman Ben-Yehuda,
Sacrificing Truth: Archaeology and the Myth of Masada (Amherst, N.Y., 2002), and Anita Shapira, Land and Power:
The Zionist Resort to Force, 1881-1948 (Stanford 1992), 23, 310-311, 314-318, 336. In 2001, Masada was declared a
UNESCO World Heritage Site. See: [Link]
80
reached wide audiences in and beyond the kibbutz movement. The newsletter was circulated in

hundreds of copies, and was, to a great extent, “the voice of the Sabra generation and a model for

other periodicals for youth and the army.”173

A further example that echoes the Palmach Bulletin can be seen in the play, In the Negev

Plains (Be-‘Arvot ha-Negev), produced in early 1949 by the Habimah Theater.174 As was true of

the column “Failure,” this play was written by a Palmach veteran who served during the 1948 War

as an IDF information and culture officer (“Politruk). Similar to the Palmach Bulletin, the column

attracted the attention of thousands of Israelis across the country. 175 The play tells the story of a

fictional kibbutz called Bik`at Yo’av (Yoav Valley), which corresponds with the image of Kibbutz

Negba, the same kibbutz that was established in the northern Negev in 1939 and that, by 1948,

was a symbol of Israeli endurance and heroism thanks to its ability to survive ongoing Egyptian

attacks.176 By dramatizing the events in the fictional Bik`at Yo’av, the play addressed a central

dilemma faced by so many during the war. The play’s characters debate whether non-combatants

should be allowed to evacuate their besieged settlements or whether they should actively

participate in defending their homes, even at the risk of their lives. This was the situation faced by

residents of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan, a fact that the play explicitly mentioned.

Reference to the two kibbutzim comes during a conversation between the General-

Secretary of Bik`at Yo’av and one of the locals, who believed the kibbutz’s leader (Mazkir ha-

Kibbutz) was on the verge of ordering everyone to leave the kibbutz while it was under heavy

173
Oz Almog, The Sabra: The Creation of the New Jew (Berkeley 2000), 35.
174
Yigal Mosinsson, Be-‘Arvot ha-Negev: Mahazeh be-Shalosh Ma’arakhot (Tel-Aviv 1949). Further details about
the Habimah production are available at the theater’s website:
[Link] (last visited on May 26, 2014).
175
See, for example, the piece “Be-‘Arvot ha-Negev Me’orer Viku’akh,” Maariv, February 20, 1949, 3.
176
About Negba in the 1948 War see Avraham Ayalon, The Givati Brigade Facing the Egyptian Intruder (Tel-Aviv
1963), 54-77 and Benny Morris, 1948: A History of the First Arab-Israeli War (Tel-Aviv 2010), 303-305.
81
Egyptian attack. The kibbutznik urged the General Secretary not to make this decision: “Look into

my eyes, straight into my eyes,” he told him, “since you know that if we lose Bik`at Yo’av —we

will lose the war. We, members of the kibbutz, we will lose the war. Remember [Zakhor et] Sha’ar

ha-Golan and Masada.”177

Phrased in the form of the biblical command to remember, the message behind these words

is sharp and clear.178 It condemns the decision to abandon Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan as an act

that jeopardized the entire Israeli war effort. Ultimately, the General-Secretary of Bik`at Yo’av,

symbolically named Abraham, vehemently rejects the idea of abandoning the kibbutz. Indeed, he

goes even further by insisting upon sacrificing his son, Dan, by assigning him to an extremely

risky mission, which he does not survive.179 Here is an additional biblical analogy, juxtaposing the

case of Bik`at Yo’av to the binding of Isaac (Genesis, 22: 1-19), when the patriarch, Abraham,

heeds God’s command to sacrifice his beloved son, Isaac. In the Bible, Isaac is spared, but the play

carries out the sacrifice, thus ratcheting up the stakes. Even the son’s name, Dan, corresponds in

the Bible to heroism and courage (Genesis 49:17; Deuteronomy 33:22; Judges 13-16), thus

signifying how courage was needed to shore up the defense of the fledgling nation. The play In

the Negev Plains therefore presents the evacuation of the kibbutz as a supreme test of loyalty that

touched on the relationship between the settlers to their homeland, a relationship that was

mythologized in the Yishuv as both romantic and sacred.180

177
Mosinsson, In the Negev Plains, 55.
178
On the biblical and rabbinic foundations of the Jewish commanding to remember—Zakhor—See the first lecture
in the landmark book Zakhor: Jewish History and Jewish Memory by Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi (Seattle and London
1989), 5-26.
179
Mossinson, In the Negev Plains, 77, 96, 103 and 106.
180
See Boaz Neumann, Land and Desire in Early Zionism (Waltham, Mass., 2011) and compare to the critical view
by Shlomo Zand, The Invention of the Land of Israel (London, Brooklyn, NY 2012).
82
 The members of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan were extremely hurt by the way playwright

Yigael Mosinsson and the national theater presented them. The March 1949 edition of the Sha’ar

ha-Golan Bulletin (Be-Sha`ar Ha-Golan), which circulated among the kibbutz members when they

were still living away from the ruined kibbutz, records the following: “The sentence by Mosinsson

hurt us like an arrow that cannot be turned back. His “Remember Sha’ar ha-Golan” rubbed salt on

a wound that has not yet healed.” Agitated kibbutz members agreed and argued that “one should

put an end to the defamation once and for all.”181 Representatives of Sha’ar ha-Golan made contact

with Mosinsson, who apologized to them and agreed to remove the sentence from the play. It is,

therefore, surprising that a 1989 publication of the script includes the controversial line.182 This

may explain, however, at least partly, why the event held in the dining room of Sha’ar ha-Golan

in June 2001 was titled “Removing the Mark of Cain.” The sense of insult dogged the kibbutz

from the late 1940s to the early 2000s. This, at least, was the subjective feeling of its members.

The event “Removing the Mark of Cain” opened with a speech by kibbutz member Ziva

Dror, who was born in Sha’ar ha-Golan in the mid-1930s. In her speech, Dror addressed the locals,

including members of Masada and other Jordan Valley kibbutzim, with the following words: “This

is the first time that we will discuss the topic [i.e., the circumstances that led to the temporary

desertion of the kibbutz] publically and among ourselves . . . On behalf of the second generation

of the kibbutz, I address you—the founders who [still] live with us: raise up your heads. You did

the best you could.”183 These words correspond with concerns that the same founders raised more

than fifty years earlier regarding Dror and her generation. An article published in the Sha’ar ha-

Golan Bulletin on March 25, 1949, titled “In the Ears of the Second Generation,” raised grave

181
SHGA, “Be-Oznei ha-Dor Hasheni,” Be-Sha’ar ha-Golan, March 25, 1949.
182
Yigal Mossinson, Be-‘Arvot ha-Negev (Israel 1989), 44.
183
SHGA, Removing the Mark of Cain, June 8, 2001.
83
concerns that the incident that resulted from the evacuation of the kibbutz would haunt the local

children in the spirit of the biblical verse: “The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s

teeth are set on edge” (Ezekiel 18:2, Jeremiah 31:28). “Could we hope,” wrote the anonymous

author, “that future generations will not look at us in a hostile and one-sided way?”184 The answer

given was a definite yes. The event held in Sha’ar ha-Golan in June 2001, on the other hand,

implies that at least from the subjective point of the locals, this prophecy was not necessarily

realized. Moreover, the sense of being singled out has remained strong in the kibbutz, although the

Shaltiel Committee concluded in 1949 that members of both Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan had

indeed “committed a severe felony—evacuation of a post without permission.” That said, the

Committee added that under the grave circumstances that prevailed in the area during the battle,

and in light of the way the locals behaved after their desertion, they deserved “to walk uprightly,

self-assured that they will meet future challenges, and that they have the [moral] right to [continue]

living respectfully in their current place.”185 As historian Meir Pa’il put it during the “Removing

the Mark of Cain” event, the conclusion of this inquiry was not strong enough to clear the names

of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan. Pa’il posited that the members’ continued feelings of guilt about

the 1948 War testified to their high moral level, and that the kibbutzim were destroyed not because

of inappropriate behavior on the part of their inhabitants, but rather because the IDF regional

command neglected the two kibbutzim by concentrating Israeli forces behind the lines of Masada

and Sha’ar ha-Golan. In other words, the regional command cast the two kibbutzim in an

impossible position by not providing them with enough protection, and by not informing them

about the Israeli defense alignment as the battle in the area was still taking place. 186

184
SHGA, Be-Sha’ar ha-Golan, March 25, 1949.
185
The Shaltiel Report, 6-7.
186
SHGA, Be-Sha’ar ha-Golan 64:16, June 21, 2001, 5.
84
 Giving further expression to the feeling of shame with which Sha’ar ha-Golan had been

living, the May 2001 editorial of the regional newspaper of the Jordan Valley noted: “[T]here is

unfinished business with the elders of Sha’ar ha-Golan, Masada and their dependents . . . One

should clarify the matter once and for all and publicly take this shame away. In Sha’ar ha-Golan

and Masada there are still people who are unjustly tormented by feelings of helplessness and guilt

which are carried on . . . even in the second generation.” 187 In an article published in the same

volume, Ziva Dror added the following words: “Today I resolve [the 1948 War affair] and this is

most likely not accidental. Three years ago I began to work at the Archive [of Sha’ar ha-Golan]. I

vigorously read all the [available] sources regarding the war in our kibbutz . . . This also includes

the “Shaltiel Report”—the same miserable report that was supposed to remove the shame from our

name . . . but left the people [i.e., the locals] with a mark of Cain on their forehead.” 188 We see

here that the Shaltiel Report has been viewed, then, not just as an ineffective means in bringing

the affair to an end, but rather as part of an ongoing problem that still needs to be resolved.

Mira Nidbakh, “Esek lo Patur,” Ba-Emek u-Varamah 83 (May 2001), 2.

187

Ziva Dror, “Mi Natash Rishon? Ha-im Mosdot ha-Tsava veha-Gush o Sha’ar ha-Golan ve-Masada?,” Ba-Emek u-
188

Varamah 83 (May 2001), 26.

85
Figure 1 - “Stock and Watchtower Settlement:” The Establishment of Sha’ar ha-Golan, March 21, 1937. In the background –
the Golan Heights (Photographer: Kluger Zoltan)

Figure 2 - Sha’ar ha-Golan, 1942

86
 Figure 3 - Kibbutz member, Tirtsah Bergel, visits in Sha’ar ha-Golan after the battle (June 1948).

Figure 4 - June 2001: Invitation for the “Removing the Mark of Cain” event.
Photos are curtesy of the Government Press Office and the Sha’ar ha-Golan Archives

The previous chapter about Nitzanim dealt extensively with the conditions that led to the

condemnation of the kibbutz in 1948. It also elaborated on the reaction of the members of Nitzanim

to their harsh treatment. The same forces are at work in the context of Masada and Sha’ar ha-

87
Golan: the condemnation and insult that followed them throughout the second half of the 20th

century grew out of the same Zionist worldview that deeply affected Nitzanim, that is, from

adherence to Zionist beliefs such as the myths of Tel-Hai and Masada, and the ethos of the farmer-

fighter. It was in that context that the condemnation expressed in the Palmach bulletin and the play

In the Negev Plains presented the members of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan as having consciously

and deliberately broken the moral code of the Yishuv. The settlers, on the other hand, demanded

an investigation to prove the converse. They insisted that they were always integral to Israeli

society and were steadfastly committed to its moral code. The attempt to exclude them from the

Israeli mainstream, on the one hand, and their counter attempt, on the other, is therefore a

microhistory that offers an insight into the mentality of a budding Israeli society. Put differently,

the outlying cases of Masada, Sha’ar ha-Golan, and Nitzanim, all of which were condemned for

breaking the code of Israeli conduct during a time of war, shed light on the way the Israeli Jewish

majority sought to imagine itself.

The following section will show that the final conclusions of the inquiries into the battle

over the Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan were, in fact, an acknowledgment of the gap between a

Zionist worldview that cast ordinary citizens in the position of combat soldiers, on the one hand,

and the actual ability of non-combatants to rise to standards set for them during the 1948 War, on

the other.

First Inquiries

The members of Sha’ar ha-Golan wasted no time. On May 20, 1948, only two days after they had

left the kibbutz and three days before it was recaptured by the IDF, they demanded an investigation

88
into the particulars of the battle.189 More specifically, they addressed the commander of the Golani

Brigade, Moshe (Montag) Mann, whose forces were deployed in the Jordan Valley, and who

remained the supreme military authority in the region even after May 18, when Moshe Dayan was

appointed to command the forces in the area.190

Interestingly, preceding the publication of the Palmach Bulletin of May 31, members of

Sha’ar ha-Golan expressed their fear of public condemnation and their desire that an official

clarification of the battle be publicized as soon as possible. In other words, the kibbutz’s demand

for the investigation was, to a great extent, preventive. The sense of urgency felt by kibbutz

members is evident from a confidential letter written by Shamir Bonim, General-Secretary of

Sha’ar ha-Golan, dated May 21st: “Not only has our house been demolished, gone with the wind,

but there will be an attempt to malign [us] and make us the scapegoat for all the culpable neglect

of the defense organizations in the Jordan Valley. Even if I do not fully justify our behavior on

that fatal night, there is no doubt [in my mind] that the main fault falls on the shoulders of the

regional command. . . We [currently] stand before a difficult public campaign, and as long as this

clarification will not take place [i.e., an inquiry], we will be paralyzed and cannot even plan the

reconstruction [of Sha’ar ha-Golan].”191 In his letter, Bonim stressed that in a meeting he had

already held with Ya’akov Hazan and Meir Ya’ari, i.e. the leaders of Ha-Shomer Hatza’ir with

189
IDFA 176-121/1950, Sha’ar ha-Golan to the Ministry of Defense, September 25, 1948.
190
See Moshe Dayan, Moshe Dayan, Story of My Life (Tel-Aviv 1976), 58-61 and compare to Shabtai Teveth, Moshe
Dayan: Biyografiyah (Jerusalem 1973), 256-264 and Mordechai Bar-On, Moshe Dayan: A Biography 1915-1981 (Tel-
Aviv 2014), 62-63; Dayan’s appointment as a commander in the Jordan Valley as the fighting was still taking place
obviously diminished Mann’s military authority. Accordingly, his appointment can be viewed as a quasi-
impeachment. In a letter sent to Mann a few months after the battle ended, on August 20, 1948, Ben-Gurion apologized
for Mann’s apparent diminished position. He also emphasized that Dayan’s appointment was the result of ‘objective
considerations of that time’. Mann was called, then, to continue commanding IDF forces after the 1948 War (IDFA
183-121/1950).
191
Bonim’s letter was reprinted in a booklet Sha’ar ha-Golan published in his memory in 1998. See SHGA, Bonim
(1998), 36.
89
which Sha’ar ha-Golan was affiliated, the two men were extremely friendly and focused on the

reconstruction of the kibbutz.

It appears, therefore, that even in the period that preceded the first lull in the war, the

position of the Zionist leadership concerning the question of evacuation of civilians under fire was

not limited to the Tel Hai order.192 Until that time, the only Zionist body that dealt with the issue

in depth was Ha-Kibbutz Ha-Me’uhad (the United Kibbutz Movement), headed by Yitzhak

Tabenkin, who, in fact, was against evacuation of civilians and children for fear of

demoralization.193 Ha-Kibbutz Ha-Artsi, on the other hand, displayed a much more forgiving

approach. Similarly to Tabenkin, Meir Ya’ari’s principled position was against evacuation of

settlements and in favor of a fight “until the last man.” However, as his biographer Aviva Halamish

notes, from the moment the deed was done and two of the Ha-Shomer Hatsa’ir kibbutzim had been

abandoned, that is, Yad Mordechai and Sha’ar ha-Golan, the prevailing tone adopted by Ya’ari on

the issue of evacuation of civilians under fire became sympathetic.194 While Tabenkin strongly

criticized Sha’ar ha-Golan, Ya’ari argued that the group was “innocent before any tribunal,” and

its members—whom he defined as a “bone from our bones”—were entitled to moral and material

support. His words were a far cry from his earlier criticism of the kibbutz, when he claimed it had

disobeyed a direct order of the military command. According to the order, the locals were supposed

to leave fifty combatants in Sha’ar ha-Golan. An even greater understanding of the hardship placed

192
For references and discussion about the Tel-Hai order see note 93 above.
193
Unlike Ha-Kibbutz Ha-Artsi, which was politically affiliated with Mapam, the Kibbutz ha-Meuhad was politically
closer to Mapai (The Workers’ Party of the Land of Israel) and Ahdut ha-‘Avodah. Regarding Tabenkin’s stance
toward evacuation of non-belligerents see Baruch Kannari, Tabenkin in Eretz-Israel (Ramat-Efal and Sede Boqer
Campus 2003), 610-611; Tal David, “The Evacuation of Non-Belligerents from the Border Areas in the Israeli War
of Independence,” Israel 4 (2003), 65-66 and Nurit Cohen-Levinovsky, “Evacuation of Non-Belligerents: A
Comparative Study of Three kibbutzim” in Mordechai Bar-On and Meir Chazan (eds.), Citizens at War: Studies on
the Civilian Society during the Israeli War of Independence (Jerusalem 2006), 275.
194
Aviva Halamish, Meir Yaari. The Rebbe from Merhavia: The State Years (Tel-Aviv 2013), 23-24.
90
on the kibbutzim was shown by another leader of Ha-Shomer ha-Tsa’ir, Ya’acov Hazan, from

Kibbutz Mishmar Ha’emek, who in April 1948 took an active part in the evacuation of 160

members of his kibbutz during an attack by the Arab Liberation Army led by Fawzi al-Qawugji.195

The decision of the people of Sha’ar ha-Golan to abandon the kibbutz contradicted, then,

the order of Tel Hai but not necessarily the position of the Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir. Here it is

important to qualify the point by noting that the Ha-Kibbutz Ha-Artsi did not fully back the people

of Sha’ar ha-Golan before looking into the matter. On the contrary, in a letter written by Bonim

on May 22, he stated that the secretariat of Ha-Kibbutz Ha-Artsi decided to form an internal

committee to investigate the circumstances of the abandonment of the kibbutz.196 The public

campaign Bonim was concerned about related, then, to groups outside the kibbutz movement, as

well as to circles within Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir that decided of their own initiative to take up the

matter.

The Inquiry of the Ha-Kibbutz Ha-Artsi Movement and Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir

The decision to establish a committee to investigate the events of the desertion of Sha’ar ha-Golan

was taken by the secretariat of the Acting Committee of Ha-Kibbutz ha-Artsi and Ha-Shomer Ha-

Tsa’ir.197 To this end, it appointed three members who were asked to visit the kibbutz and collect

testimony from those who took part in the events. The three completed their task on June 2, 1948,

195
Zeev Tzahor, Hazan—Tenu’at Hayim: Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir, ha-Kibbutz ha-‘Artsi, Mapam (Jerusalem and Givat
Chavivah 1997), 184. More about the battle in Kibbutz Mishmar ha-Emekr see in Amiram Ezov, Mishmar Haemek
Will Stand (Or Yehuda 2013), 140-146.
196
SHGA, Bonim, 39.
197
Yad Tabenkin Archives–The Research and Documentation Center of the Kibbutz Movement (hereafter: YTA), 12-
13/13b4, Du’akh shel ha-Ve’adah le-virur Parashat Sha’ar ha-Golan, June 14, 1948. The report was signed on June
2nd, 1948. The Secretariat of the Board of Actions (Mazkirut ha-Va’ad ha-Po’el) approved it on June 6. The
clarification committee was manned by Baruch Lynn, Dov Ben-Sha’ul and R. Weintrobe.
91
by submitting a list of conclusions that reflected two divergent perspectives. First, the committee

determined that the “members of Sha’ar ha-Golan failed by leaving the terrain without receiving

an order to do so at a time when they were not directly under attack and had not suffered loss of

life.” Second, the committee added a list of factors it thought should have been taken into

consideration such as the geographical location of the kibbutz that made it hard to defend, the fact

that Sha’ar ha-Golan was not properly equipped and fortified, and the claim that the preliminary

evacuation of the non-combatant population hours before the kibbutz’sabandonment followed

direct orders given by the regional commander. The committee added that “the members should

be commended with their willingness to return [to Sha’ar ha-Golan] immediately [following its

abandonment] and for the attempt to retake the settlement that was undertaken by them several

hours later—without backup or a commander.” Another comment related to the decision taken on

the evening of May 18 by Kibbutz Masada whose members apparently abandoned the area first.

According to the committee, this action put Sha’ar ha-Golan at risk and, therefore, encouraged its

people to leave. While this may well be the case, it is not at all clear to this day which of the two

kibbutzim evacuated first.198 In any event, the committee spoke in two voices, one condemning

“the failure” and the other putting things in a broader context.

The report ended with a call to convey the findings to the entire Ha-Shomer Hatsa’ir

movement, and to “back up the members of Sha’ar ha-Golan. . . within all the security

establishments that were dealing in the case.”199 This twofold approach guided the movement in

the months that followed the publication of the report; a period during which it provided material

198
Agin, Netishah, 245.
199
YTA 12-13/13b4, Du’akh shel ha-Ve’adah le-virur Parashat Sha’ar ha-Golan, June 14, 1948.
92
and moral support to Sha’ar ha-Golan on the one hand, but continued to demonstrate a somewhat

restrained attitude toward it on the other hand.200

The Inquiry by Gordonia

A request for an internal kibbutz investigation was also raised by Kibbutz Masada, which belonged

to the Gordonia movement.201 Similarly to the case of Sha’ar ha-Golan and Ha-Shomer Hatsa’ir,

this settlement movement stood by and supported its kibbutz. An internal report published by the

leadership of Gordonia on July 11, 1948, explained that the movement chose to look into the events

at the kibbutz due to the “slander campaign against the group.”202 The report does not deny that

the falling of the kibbutz was a “serious failure.” It did, however, stress that in order to understand

the wartime events one should not adopt a “simplistic approach aimed only at finding the person

who was ‘guilty’ of the failure.”203 The heart of the issue rests on the question “to what extent can

an agricultural settlement serve as a military post and when does the task exceed its capability?”204

Answering this question requires consideration of four factors that, when taken together, lead to

the conclusion that the failure of the members of Masada was not a failure of values but, rather,

200
In this context one should also mention a report published by the world leadership of Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir (Ha-
Hanhagah ha-Elyonah shel ha-Histadrut ha-‘Olamit shel Ha-Shomer ha-Tsa’ir) on June 15, 1948. According to the
report, Sha’ar ha-Golan was “destroyed” (as opposed to claims regarding abandonment or surrender of the kibbutz)
due to general unreadiness of kibbutzim in the Jordan Valley toward the Arab invasion. That having said, the report
added that the kibbutzim in the area “did not excel . . . in [having] strong nerves and perfect order. Here there was
panic.” The report was therefore one more means in which the Ha-Shomer Hatsa’ir demonstrated its dual attitude
toward Sha’ar ha-Golan, which fused support on the one hand and latent condemnation on the other hand. See SHGA,
Ha-Istadrut ha-‘Olamit she ha-Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir, Merhavia, June 15, 1948 (Vol. 11) and compare to Levi Dror
and Yisrael Rosenzweig (eds.), Sefer Ha-Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir (Merhaviyah 1956-1964), Vol. III, 19, 46 and 154.
201
Gordonia was a socialist though non-Marxist kibbutz movement, named for Aaron David Gordon (1856-1922)—
an ardent propagator of practical Zionism and the spiritual father of the Zionist “religion of work.” About the origins
and nature of the movement, see Nathan Rotenstreich, Gordonia: A Pioneering Youth Movement (Huldah 1982) and
Elkanah Margalit, Tenu’at ha-No’ar Gordoniya—Ra’ayon ve-Orah Hayim (Tel-Aviv 1986).
202
YTA 12-13/ 13b4, Gordonia, Bulletin (16), July 11, 1948, 1.
203
Ibid, 5 and 6, respectively.
204
Ibid, 7.
93
represented a temporary and partial operational failure that stemmed from difficult military

conditions. To be precise, the fall of the kibbutz was a result of a severe shortage of weapons,

means of communications, and assistance from the military command. Also problematic was the

limited military potential of Masada from the outset. In simple terms, the human resources of the

kibbutz, along with its inadequate supplies, prevented it from carrying out the military task it was

required to undertake. The report went on to argue that the attempt to blame the kibbutz was the

result of “adherence to archaic concepts,” such as the Tel Hai myth, which was noble on paper,

but unrealistic during the battle that led to the destruction of Kibbutz Masada.205 Accordingly, the

report concluded that accusing Masada of a failure of values was superficial, unfounded, and

detached from reality, and that the fall of the kibbutz was no different than the fall of other

settlements in battle. Furthermore, the report stressed the fact that the members of the kibbutz

fought for four full days and maintained that their active role in reconquest was an act of bravery.

The Shaltiel Committee

Against this background, the people of Masada demanded that the Gordonia movement and the

IDF stand by them and assist in the rehabilitation of the kibbutz’s reputation. More specifically,

they demanded that the military establishment appoint an inquiry committee to examine the

circumstances of the kibbutz’s submission. At the time the Gordonia report was written, such a

military committee had yet to be formed, but the mere demand for it indicates that, similar to the

case of Sha’ar ha-Golan, the members of Masada would not settle for internal inquiries conducted

by their own settlement movement. According to Eliezer Goldman, commander of the Kinneret

region, “the people of the Jordan Valley . . . accuse the military command of negligence, the result

205
Ibid, 5-6.
94
of which was the unnecessary loss of human life.”206 In his letter, Goldman shared his own opinion

that the brigade should respond positively to the request to appoint a committee, whose members

should not be from the region. Goldman had personally appointed a similar committee on May 29,

but it had fallen apart for indeterminate reasons shortly thereafter, before it reached any

conclusions.207

After four months had passed, with their request for a military investigation languishing,

the members of Sha’ar ha-Golan and Masada turned to the Ministry of Defense again, demanding

that the events surrounding the battle be given close scrutiny. As a representative of Sha’ar ha-

Golan wrote in a letter to the ministry, he and his comrades would, under no circumstance, “be

willing to have the issue closed the way it currently stands. It is of importance to us and to our

children that clarity come to reign over this painful chapter, and that all the circumstances related

to the event be clarified.”208 The Ministry of Defense was not overly eager to investigate the battle

but was also not opposed, in principle, to the idea. According to internal correspondence between

the Director General of the Ministry and the Chief of Staff, Ya’akov Dori, the former estimated

that any investigation should last no more than a single day. There was, nonetheless, someone who

added a handwritten note—most likely the acting IDF Chief of Staff, Yigael Yadin—that there

was no need for an investigation into the battle, since neither the Ministry nor the army authorities

demanded an investigation of the kibbutz members.209 Eventually, the Ministry of Defense decided

206
SHGA, Sha’ar ha-Golan to the Golani Headquarters, May 20, 1948, and compare to the letter sent by the District
Commander to Golani headquarters on June 2, 1948 (IDFA 58-5205/1949).
207
Agin, Netishah, 205. The committee was manned by two kibbutz members who dwelled in the Jordan Valley and
by the military commander of the city of Tiberius.
208
IDFA 176-121/1950, Sha’ar ha-Golan to the Ministry of Defense, September 25, 1948.
209
IDFA 176-121/1950, Yosef Yizraeli to Ya’akov Dori, October 3, 1948. On paper, IDF Chief of Staff during the
1948 War was Ya’akov Dori. In practice, however, he was unable to engage in his military duties regularly due to bad
health. About Dori see Mordechai Naor, Ha-Ramatkal ha-Rishon Ya’akov Dori (Ben Shemen 2011).
95
to respond favorably to the demand of the two kibbutzim and to appoint a committee of inquiry

which was, it seems, the third investigative body established for this purpose.

Here it should be noted that in the period prior to the enactment of the State Commissions

of Inquiry Law, 5729-1968, the executive branch in Israel did not have at its disposal a uniform

investigative tool to look into matters of vital public importance such as the cases of Masada and

Sha’ar ha-Golan.210 In practice, this meant that any arm of the executive and legislative branches

could have voluntarily established independent inquiries of their own, and that there were no rules

administering the structure and procedure of the inquiries. Thus it happened, as we saw in the

chapter on kibbutz Nitzanim, that several bodies within the military establishment appointed or

wanted to appoint a committee without coordinating efforts with one another. This situation led to

a one-man committee headed by General David Shaltiel being the first body established by the

military establishment to look into the fall of the kibbutzim. This committee was established on

March 23, 1949.

The decision to appoint Shaltiel to the job was due first and foremost to his position as the

Comptroller-General of the General Staff. The appointment also alludes to the fact that from the

outset of the affair, the military authorities were open to the possibility that the inquiry would favor

the members of the kibbutzim. After all, Shaltiel was known during the war for supporting the

evacuation of civilians under fire. Moreover, in July of that year, Shaltiel was dismissed from his

position as the commander of Jerusalem and its surroundings exactly for this reason, and for what

his supervisors believed was too soft a commanding style.211

210
About the legal status of Israeli commissions of inquiry in the period that preceded the Israeli State Commissions
of Inquiry Law, 5729-1968 see Avigdor Klagsbald, Tribunals of Inquiry (Jerusalem 2001), 71-81.
211
The person who replaced David Shaltiel as the commander of the area that included Jerusalem during the 1948
War was Moshe Dayan; that is, the same Dayan who replaced Moshe Mann in commanding the Jordan Valley battle.
Regarding Shaltiel’s attitude toward the evacuation of Gush-Etzion see Moti Golani, “Mateh Mahoz Yerushalayim ve-
96
 According to Shaltiel own words at the beginning of the investigative report on the battles

in Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan—a report that he submitted to the Minister of Defense on

November 17, 1948—he did his best to “enable the people of both kibbutzim to give their

testimony in a free and detailed manner.” He ended the inquiry, he declared, only when “the people

of the kibbutzim were themselves convinced that in fact everything that could have been said about

the issue was said.”212 In spite of his openness and willingness to be tentative to the kibbutznikim,

Shaltiel also made it a point to present himself as an objective investigator, that is, as someone

who did not seek to appease the members of the kibbutzim from the outset.213

Similarly to the investigation carried out by Ha-Shomer Hatsa’ir, Shaltiel’s investigation

culminated in a report that included both condemnation and affirmation. The report starts off by

arguing that the task imposed on him was “the examination of the circumstances regarding the

abandonment of the locations” (i.e., Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan).214 While such an inquiry might

have focused on the military moves that developed throughout the battle, the report pays more

attention to the moral aspects of surrender. The core of the investigation was centered on the

behavior of the kibbutzim members vis-à-vis the values of pioneering Zionism. That world was

presented in the report as a given that required no further elaboration, that is, a normative code of

conduct that should be clear and known to all. “The questions posed before us,” Shaltiel noted,

“are: what happened to the people of these 2 kibbutzim? Both of them have a pioneering Zionist

past and a history of defense; both of them possess cognizant people, who established their farming

communities under harsh working conditions, who withstood serious tests more than once, and

Gush Ezion be-Tashah,” in Arie Naor (ed.), Gush Etzion Mi-Reshito Ve-‘ad Tashah (Jerusalem 1985), 182-189. Also
see Netanel Lorkh, Korot Milkhemet ha-Atsma’ut (Givatayim 1989), 201-202.
212
The Shaltiel Report, 1.
213
Ibid.
214
Ibid.
97
who were brought up and then brought others up in the honorable tradition of the pioneer

movement. What happened to them that they could leave the fruit of their labor, the source of their

existence, and the aim of their lives?”215 From this point, Shaltiel divided the report into three

thematic parts, which relate to the findings of the investigation, their analysis, and the conclusion.

Shaltiel’s lenient approach and his tendency to place the decision to desert in a wider

context is evident throughout the report. The findings section ends with a clear determination that

there is no doubt that the people of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan “left the area of their protectorate

without receiving permission.” This fact is presented as a “serious offense”—that is, “evacuating

a post without permission.”216 However, each part of the report includes a significant list of

mitigating factors that serve as a preface for Shaltiel’s final conclusion that based on “the clear cut

objective reality [that existed during the battle…] there is no doubt that the members of these

farming communities deserve to walk with their heads held high, [and] with confidence that they

will withstand future challenges, and by recognizing their right to a dignified life in their current

location.”217

Among the variety of causes that brought Shaltiel to this conclusion were the facts that the

kibbutzim were not properly fortified or armed218; their people were not well trained; and that

215
Ibid, 5.
216
Ibid, 5 and 6, respectively.
217
Ibid, 7. Emphasis added.
218
Scholars and laymen have debated over the years whether the military establishment discriminated small kibbutzim
such as Nitzanim due to political pressures placed on it by strong kibbutz movements in general, and the Shomer Ha-
Tsa’ir in particular. The topic has attracted quite a lot of public attention. See for example Al ha-Mishmar, December
26, 1983; Yisra’el Galili, “Ha-emet ‘al Nitzanim,” Yediot Ahronoth, January 9, 1984; Sue Fishkoff, “Surviving
Shame,” The Jerusalem Post, May 3, 1995, 10; Shlomo Nakdimon, “Hithadesh ha-Kerav ‘al Nitzanim,” Yediot
Ahronoth (Holiday Section), May 3, 1995, 16-19; Ha-Kibbutz, December 31, 1998, 12-13; Ada Ushpiz, “Youth in
Tel-Aviv, Death in Nitzanim,” Haaretz (Holiday Section), October 10, 2003, 23-24; Meir Pa’il in Avihai Becker,
“Bati le-Vakesh Slihah,” Haaretz, April 23, 2004; Milstein, Left to Die, and more. Interestingly, Sha’ar ha-Golan,
which was affiliated to the strong Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir movment, raised similar arguments against the IDF. As noted
above, the Burstein Committee reached the conclusion that the military establishment indeed yielded to political
pressures (see IDFA 182-129/1951 36 and 29). The Committee acknowledged that Nitzanim was improperly armed
in comparison to other kibbutzim in the area, such as Negba, Gat and Galon, which were affiliated to Ha-Shomer Ha-
Tsa’ir. A comparison between the cases of Sha’ar ha-Golan, on the one hand and Nitzanim on the other hand, lead to
98
during the battle “the civil authority in the Jordan Valley block did not maintain contact with the

posts and did not demonstrate sufficient care in maintaining the emotional stability of their

people.”219 This was a reference to the Golani Brigade, which ordered the removal of soldiers and

radio communications from Sha’ar ha-Golan during the fighting.

The blurring of the boundaries between the military and the civilian—with ordinary

citizens cast in the position of combat soldiers—was evident to Shaltiel who testified to this fact

in a different section of the report.220 Shaltiel made a point to note that, prior to the battle, no plans

were made for the evacuation of civilians; that the members of the kibbutzim fought stubbornly

for four consecutive days; and that their request for backup went unanswered. 221 Therefore, he

argued, “one cannot answer the question of what happened to the people of the kibbutzim simply

by saying that they had betrayed and deserted the gate that was handed to them for protection”222—

words that were taken directly from the Palmach Bulletin that is not mentioned explicitly in the

report.

Much attention is dedicated in Shaltiel’s report to the feelings of the [Link]

four days of battle, merely holding onto the posts was deemed by the kibbutzim to be the equivalent

of being in “suicide platoons.”223 According to Shaltiel’s understanding, this sentiment was

unjustified due to the “objective circumstances” of the battle. However, he qualifies, that no one

explained to the members what those “objective circumstances” were and therefore, “they saw

themselves, in a very primitive way, as a bulge on the front lines (belitah ba-hazit) that could be

the conclusion that flaws in allocations of weapons were the result of political considerations in combination with
what seems to be objective incompetence of the IDF, which lack the proper means to sufficiently armament certain
communities.
219
The Shaltiel Report, 5.
220
Ibid, 6.
221
Ibid, 2, 6 and 7.
222
Ibid, 5.
223
Ibid, 4.
99
detached [i.e. taken over by enemy forces] at any time.”224 According to Shaltiel, the people of the

kibbutzim did not comprehend their situation during the battle as it was taking place. Furthermore,

the report uses the synonyms “objective circumstances” and “objective reality,” that is, the

experiences members of the kibbutzim went through during the battle, to raise opposing

arguments: First to justify their decision to abandon their kibbutz, and then for the sake of

canceling the feeling of concern they were experiencing.

Retrospectively, Shaltiel’s focus on the moral aspect of the kibbutzim abandonment, as

opposed to the military aspect of the battle, has provoked harsh criticism against him. By focusing

on the question of “what happened to the people of the kibbutzim?” Shaltiel avoided giving “an

answer to the basic question of “how it happened?” ”225 There is no doubt that many details related

to the battles of the Jordan Valley, in general, and the battle of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan, in

particular, are missing in the report. This is evident by the research of Assaf Agin, a historian of

the Jordan Valley battles, and by additional research materials that have been collected over the

years. These materials and studies lead to the conclusion that members of Masada and Sha’ar ha-

Golan fought to their best of their ability without having a realistic chance to beat an enemy

superior in both quantity and quality. Nevertheless, it seems that the claim according to which the

Shaltiel Report “did not relate in any way to the military alignment (ha-ma’arakh ha-tseva’i) that

was in the Jordan Valley”226 is significantly exaggerated for several reasons. First, the report

outlines—if only in general terms—the development of the battle between May 14 and 18. Second,

by focusing on the behavior of the members of the kibbutzim—a nd not on that of the Golani

troops, the IDF’s senior command or, in contrast, the Syrian enemy—the Shaltiel Report deals

224
Ibid, 6. Emphasis added.
225
Agin, Netishah, 206.
226
Ziva Dror, “Mi Natash Rishon? Ha-im Mosdot ha-Tsava veha-Gush o Sha’ar ha-Golan ve-Masada?,” Ba-Emek u-
Varamah 83 (May 2001), 26.
100
with the part of the military alignment that was in the area; a part that, for better and for worse,

relies on the people of the kibbutzim themselves. Third, the assumption according to which it was

possible, while writing the report, to relate to the “entire military alignment” assumes that in 1948

the alignment was formulated and known. This period was a time of transition during which the

Ministry of Defense and the IDF were still developing a long list of regulations and procedures

regarding military and civil affairs. This included the chain of military command, the interface

between it and civil leadership, and Israel’s evacuation policy. 227 An exact and comprehensive

outline of the military and civil alignment, as if in 1948 such a clearly defined alignment existed,

was simply impossible at the time of the Shaltiel Report. It seems that the complaints raised against

Shaltiel that he did not carry out his task appropriately suffer from anachronism.

As it turns out, the Israeli political establishment retrospectively forged a policy that

included core issues, such as the evacuation of non-combatants under fire, as the war was still

ongoing. As Nurit Cohen Levinovsky and David Tal demonstrated, in the vast majority of cases,

the decision concerning evacuation of civilians during the war was taken at the local level with an

evaluation of the circumstances by the civilians themselves.228 These ad hoc decisions had a

significant impact on the way Israeli leaders eventually viewed the issue. In this respect, the public

and the war brought the Israeli leadership down to reality, forcing leaders like Ben-Gurion and

Ya’ari to understand that the principled position of defending settlements to the last man, is a

unrealistic decree that is impossible to live up to.229 Accordingly, the Israeli leadership took heed

of the public’s sentiment and actions and changed its position about evacuation of civilians under

227
See Zahava Ostfeld, An Army is Born: Main Stages in the Buildup of the Army under the Leadership of David Ben-
Gurion (Tel-Aviv 1994), 220-228 and compare to Golani, Mateh Mahoz Yerushalayim, 185-189.
228
Cohen-Levinovsky, Evacuation of Non-Belligerents, 272 and along the entire article, and Tal, “The Evacuation of
Non-Belligerents.”
229
ibid, VIII, and compare to Golani, Mateh Mahoz Yerushalayim, 189 and Agin, Netishah, 249-255.
101
fire. The Shaltiel Report should therefore be seen as part of a joint effort by Masada and Sha’ar

ha-Golan, on the one hand (an effort exerted from “below”), and by the Israeli establishment, on

the other (from the “top” down), to determine an agreed-upon narrative about the battle. It should

also be viewed as a means to develop military norms of conduct that go beyond the limited events

of the two kibbutzim, that is, social conventions that were in fact part of a budding national

tradition.

It should be remembered that at no time did the members of the kibbutzim argue that as

civilians they were not required to take part in the fighting. On the contrary, one of the main

complaints they raised to the military and political leaderships concerned the lack of equipment

and ammunition that was at their disposal. In simple terms, the call of the kibbutz members for an

investigation reflects their identification with the moral values of pioneering Zionism, as well as

with the Israeli war effort and the Israeli establishment, which later recognized its limitations and

the limitations of civilians under fire. In this respect, the story of the people of Masada and Sha’ar

ha-Golan is reminiscent of the story of the people of Nitzanim. At the same time, the stories are

different from one another regarding the aftermath of the military investigation.

The previous chapter showed that upon the publication of the Burstein Committee,

Nitzanim embarked on a well-oiled and productive campaign to rehabilitate the kibbutz’s good

name in the history of the 1948 War. Fully backed by Ha-No’ar Ha-Tsiyoni, Nitzanim was able to

publicize and implement the recommendations of the Burstein Committee. Masada and Sha’ar ha-

Golan, on the other hand, made little use of the Shaltiel Report to improve their reputation in the

history of the war. One reason for that stems from the decisions of the military establishment, Ha-

Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir, and Gordonia to limit their inquiries’ circulation to the public.

102
Limiting the Inquiries’ Reach
As stated, the inquiry committee that the secretariat of Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir established in June

1948 for investigating the event in Sha’ar ha-Golan used double language of appropriate conduct

and failure. The Committee finished its work with a recommendation, which was at least partly

implemented, that the conclusions of the inquiry should be made public only within the movement.

The Committee also recommended that the movement take part in the contacts Sha’ar ha-Golan

has with the defense establishment regarding its part in the war. In practice, however, the burden

of dealing with the issue after the kibbutz and the military probe was placed on the shoulders of

the kibbutz itself. Similarly, the Gordonia movement did not mobilize in defense of Kibbutz

Masada on the national level. The bulletin it published in defense of the kibbutz in July 1948 was

meant to tell the story of Masada during the war, and bring it to the “attention of true friends and

to contradict the maligning mouths.” That said, the bulletin was defined, from the outset, as an

“internal document” that was meant exclusively for the people of Gordonia. On the header of the

bulletin was clearly written: “if this bulletin exits the confines of the Movement—we will have to

stop publishing additional material.”230 With this warning any potential that may have existed for

glorifying Masada in public, was lost. Moreover, the Shaltiel Report was classified as “top secret,”

meaning that only a few people in the defense establishment, headed by the Minister of Defense

and the Chief of Staff, could view it. A request by Sha’ar ha-Golan to General Shaltiel in March

1949 to receive the transcript of the investigation received a laconic response stating that the issue

is beyond his authority.231 It should be added that Shaltiel himself recommended to Ben Gurion to

make the report public, but this recommendation was not implemented.232

230
YTA 12-13/ 13b4, Gordonia, Bulletin (16), July 11, 1948, 1.
231
See SHGA, Sha’ar ha-Golan to David Shaltiel, March 9, 1949 and the response Shaltiel sent to the kibbutz on
March 17, 1949.
232
IDFA 182-129/1951, David Shaltiel to David Ben-Gurion, May 22, 1949.
103
 In a letter that Shaltiel sent to the Minister of Defense in May 1949, he reported that the

members of the two kibbutzim held a press conference during which they relayed the events before

the media. Furthermore, they told the reporters that the Committee was set up to investigate the

battle, and argued that the Committee archived its report without any justification. From this point

onwards, he added, various rumors and commentaries started appearing, some of which were

completely unreliable, “about the quality of the report and the quality of the Committee.”233

Shaltiel’s recommendation to make the report public was meant to disprove these rumors, which

also harmed his reputation. It appears that the decision to continue the top secret classification was

taken a short time after, in consultation between the Minister of Defense and his Director General,

Eliezer Perry.234

The next time the issue was raised was thirty years later. In March 1979, the general-

secretary of Massada (Mazkir ha-Kibbutz), Elisha Greenwald, requested a copy of the report from

the Director General of the Ministry of Defense.235 In the letter Greenwald sent to the Director

General, Haim Israeli, he stated that receiving the material was “a need of the highest order because

this important document will complete the material that can shed light on the difficult events our

kibbutz went through in those days.” The request was granted, including the Shaltiel Report, which

was made public.236 An additional copy of the report was sent in June 1979 to Kibbutz Sha’ar ha-

Golan but, somewhat strangely, the kibbutz was told that it should refer to the document as

confidential in nature, and that it should not be taken beyond the kibbutz boundaries. The receipt

of the report did not stir much interest at Sha’ar ha-Golan, and only seven members made it a point

to review it. However, nine years later, in 1988, the issue again became a topic of discussion due

233
Ibid.
234
IDFA 289-580/1956, Nehemiyah Argov to A. Perry, June 27, 1949.
235
YTA 12-13/13b4, Elisha Greenwald to Hayim Yisraeli, March 23, 1979.
236
YTA 12-13/13b4, Hayim Yisraeli to Elisha Greenwald, April 16, 1979.
104
to a demand by the kibbutz members to “break the silence and know what happened [in the

kibbutz]–and how?”237 After several months of waiting, the kibbutz received a positive answer.238

In this way, the forty-year saga of the Shaltiel Report’s publication ended. Ironic indeed it was that

the report did not contain any extraordinary military information.

Kibbutz Commemorative Activity

Masada

The delivery of the Shaltiel report to Masada in the late 1970s did not fundamentally change the

passive course of action the kibbutz had taken for decades. During all this time, the issue was

repressed in Masada, which avoided dealing with it even within the kibbutz. As the former

archivist of the kibbutz put it in a telephone conversation that I conducted with her: the members

simply “did not want to remember” and preferred to “bury the issue.”239

This is evident in the limited number of books that Masada published over the years about

the history of the kibbutz. What is common to all of them is the total avoidance of the desertion

issue. In the book Kevutsat Masada (The Masada Group) that the kibbutz published in 1962, on

the 25th anniversary of the establishment of the kibbutz, it was written that the 1948 War affected

the kibbutz in a severe way but that within a short period of time it recovered and continued to

develop. It further stated that members were able to rebuild the ruins because “the spirit and soul”

of the kibbutz were unharmed.240 In a single, direct, and brief mention of the defeat in the battle,

it said that one fallen kibbutz member was among the guards “who bravely stood, few against

237
SHGA, an inner letter the secretariat of Sha’ar ha-Golan circulated on April 26, 1988.
238
SHGA, Sha’ar ha-Golan to the IDFA, July 26, 1988 and the positive response the kibbutz received on August 29,
1988.
239
Phone interview with Yael Manzer, former archivist of kibbutz Masada, March 24, 2012.
240
Masada, Kevutsat Masada: 25 Shanim le-Kiyumah (Tel-Aviv 1962), 40-41.
105
many, until they were overcome.”241 It was also highlighted that in 1955 the kibbutz received,

together with dozens of other settlements, the “War of Independence” Ribbon for its contribution

to the war effort in 1948.242 This was all meant to give Masada an air of bravery, or at least to

present it as a normal settlement whose wartime story did not differ from that of other kibbutzim

that withstood severe attacks by the enemy. According to the Masada Group book, the sons and

daughters of the kibbutz who were born and educated in it after the war were raised “without the

same complexes that their parents had in the Diaspora.”243 They wear the military uniform

naturally, work in fields and, in short, embody in their lives the vision of the “New Jew.”

In another book that Masada published in 1987 on the 50th anniversary of the kibbutz, once

again the issue of the desertion was shunted aside.244 The point that is highlighted in the book is

the kibbutz’s devotion to the task of Zionist settlement. First, it includes a copy of a letter that Ben-

Gurion sent to the kibbutz in 1962 in which he congratulated Masada on the publication of the

Masada Group book and what he described as the privilege the members share in settling in the

Jordan Valley.245 Along the same lines, there is a short description of the four members of the

kibbutz who fell in battle during the war of attrition (1968-1970). In the description of their death,

it was written that the kibbutz will not retreat from any field or give up any plot on the grounds,

and that holding onto the land is at the heart of its members. 246 As opposed to the first two books

241
Ibid, 219.
242
“The War of Independence” is the most common title used by Jewish Israeli citizens to describe the 1948 War. In
1955 the Ministry of Defense and IDF endowed the “War of Independence Ribbon” to ninety-eight towns, villages
and settlements including Masada, Sha’ar ha-Golan and Nitzanim in tribute for their contribution to the war effort.
The full list of settlements is available at: [Link] (Last visited on May
21, 2014). It seems that the ribbon was endowed to Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan following some pressure the
Association of Kevutsot (Hever ha-kevutsot veha-kibutsim) put on the Ministry of Defensse.
243
Masada, Kevutsat Masada, 43.
244
Menachem Rolal [Link]., Yovel li-Kevutsat Masada be-Hityashvut Homah u-Migdal (Tel-Aviv 1988). See especially
pages 89-101.
245
Ibid, 128.
246
Ibid, 96.
106
that Masada published, the third book of 1990 does somewhat expand on the battle of 1948. But

even so, the battle is discussed from the personal point of view of one of the kibbutz members,

who did not explicitly mention the desertion. What the book does highlight in this short and partial

testimony is the demand that the members made to the commander of the area on the night between

May 18 and 19, 1948, to retake the kibbutz with IDF backup.247 Whoever does not know the details

of the event will not be able to understand the background of this demand. Later on, the members’

commitment to the Zionist settlement is reiterated in connection to the Six Day War of 1967.

The broadest reference to the issue of the battle appears in a book that Masada published

in 1998.248 It is there that, for the first time, reference is made to the evacuation, which is presented

as an inevitable step and as an event that haunted the kibbutz for many years. In a review of the

history of the kibbutz in wartime, it is stated that its geographical location put it “from the outset,

in the front line of fire from the enemy.”249 The evacuation of 1948 is presented as a necessity that

was imposed on the members but one that did not alter the balance of force in the Jordan Valley.

that the explanation for this was that, from a certain point in the battle, “Masada and Sha’ar ha-

Golan were left without a role in the battle and if there was an intention to impose one role or

another [on them] then no one bothered to tell them about it.”250 The book states that even “when

history is willing to absolve sins and it is proven beyond any doubt that they [i.e., the defenders]

did not have the power to withstand the difficult task,” some of the veterans “still refuse to give

up the feeling of failure.”251 According to the book, the Shaltiel Report does not accuse the kibbutz

of anything but it also does not exonerate it from all guilt. The sequestering of the report, on the

247
Ami Ruzensky, Sipurei Rishonim: Vatikei Masada Mesaprim (Masada, 1990), 45.
248
Orna Roni and Sigal Lapidot (eds.), Pesifas ben Shishim: Shishah ‘Asorim le-Masada 1937-1997 (Hatsor 1998).
249
Ibid, 162.
250
Ibid, 164 and compare to page 22.
251
Ibid, 165.
107
other hand, contributed to the impression that it contained incriminating material about Masada.

The tone of the account is thus one of reconciliation and distancing from an event that belongs to

the kibbutz’s past. In any event, the kibbutz did not change the passive way in which it dealt with

the events of the 1948 War. It did not single out the war and present it as one among many chapters

in the history of the kibbutz, and its increasing openness to engage in the 1948 War did not include

ongoing attempts to glorify its name in the history of the war. A slightly more active approach

can be seen in how Kibbutz Sha’ar ha-Golan dealt with the events.

Sha’ar-Ha-Golan

The feeling that the reputation and image of Sha’ar ha-Golan were not fully exonerated by the

committees that investigated the issue of desertion started to be discussed by the kibbutz in the

months that followed the conclusion of the committees’ work. Shmuel (Nyuszi) Gazit gave

expression to this sentiment in May 1949. In a short article that he distributed among his friends

he described the frustration he felt when faced with his inability to give a direct and public answer

to the question: “What happened in Sha’ar ha-Golan?” According to Gazit, the main reason for

this was the gag order that was imposed on the Shaltiel Report.252

In a group discussion that took place in the kibbutz in March 1949, it was clear to the

members that the task at hand was to clear the “poisoned atmosphere” enveloping them,

particularly following the play written by Yigael Mosinsson.253 This task went beyond topical

events; the Sha’ar ha-Golan Bulletin reports that “in the discussion there were members who

veered from a topical polemic (with Y. M. [i.e., Yigael Mosinsson]) to the realm of a future

252
SHGA, Shmuel (Nyuszi) Gazit, “U-mah Karah be-Sha’ar ha-Golan?,” May 1949.
253
SHGA, Be-Sha’ar ha-Golan, March 25, 1949.
108
historian who will write the events of the 1948 War.” In this context, members philosophized about

how that historian would depict the kibbutz and its members? “Will we not come across as people

of low stature who did not understand the greatness of the moment, who were dragged into the

events and did not take part in shaping them? Will he not judge us severely?” And besides, who

will guarantee that this person will refer to the Shaltiel Report at all and present the abandonment

in a larger context, taking into consideration the opinions of the members of the kibbutz

themselves? The concern over the “verdict that history will hand down” led to the conclusion that

Mosinsson “must be given a taste of his own medicine” by using literary tools. The article ends

with the claim that the kibbutz should publish a booklet that will put forward the events of the war

through prose, to be be distributed among the people of the National Kibbutz Movment and Ha-

Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir. In such a way, the members sought to bypass the gag order imposed on the

Shaltiel Report without committing a security breach. As original as this idea was, it was never

carried out.

In a book published by the kibbutz in 1962 titled Kibbutz ‘al shene gevulot (A Kibbutz on

Two Borders) there are references to the events of 1948, though these references mainly included

dry facts about the battle and were not formulated in the form of a novel.254 To be precise, there is

a quote that appeared in the military newspaper Ba-Mahaneh as early as 1949 that was later also

published in the Book of Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir.255 The historical narrative that appears revolves

around two main axes: 1) an attempt to absolve the members of the kibbutz from direct and

exclusive responsibility for its fall, and 2) depicting the abandonment of the kibbutz in a positive

light, which at the end of the day strengthened the Israeli settlement in the Jordan Valley. The book

254
Sha’ar ha-Golan, Kibbutz ‘al Shenei Gevulot (Tel-Aviv 1962), 91-92.
255
See ‘Shanah le-Ma’arakhat Emek ha-Yarden,’ Ba-Maheneh (May, 1949), 39 and Dror and Rosenzweig (eds.),
Sefer Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir, 249.
109
emphasizes the small number of defenders of the kibbutz—only a few dozen people; that they

were armed with very few weapons and that they had no hope of help or external backup. In

addition, they followed military orders to evacuate the civilian population and, after that, they

asked the Golani Brigade for additional instructions, which they never received.256 Once again the

claim was made that the decision to sequester the Shaltiel Report allowed for defamatory rumors

to foster, but also that in response to the conclusions of the report, “changes to the defense structure

of the [Jordan] Valley were implemented, commanders responsible for the area were replaced,

and, among other things, the importance and responsibility of the kibbutzim in the Eastern Jordan

Valley was defined.”257 Moreover, three new kibbutzim were established in the area. In short, there

was good that came out of the fall of the kibbutz, and the inquiry into the battle led to a row of

positive developments.

Here it is necessary to pause and say that in the same manner that the sequestering of the

report was apparently used to defame the kibbutz, it was also used to defend its good name. For

example, an article that was published in the daily newspaper Haaretz near the first anniversary of

the battle, mentioned that “the hidden report contains conclusions that stand in contrast to the

rumors and the accepted sentiment concerning the abandonment of the farming communities [in

the Jordan Valley] and that there are mitigating factors concerning Sha’ar ha-Golan.”258 The article

presents the members of the kibbutz in quite a positive light, caught in a battle under very severe

circumstances, suffering grave losses from the Syrian enemy, and through it all displaying bravery

and levelheadedness. Haaretz added that the people of Sha’ar ha-Golan insisted on returning to

256
The correspondence between Sha’ar ha-Golan and the Golani headquarter during the battle of May 14-18 is
available at YTA M-27/79-1. Also See Binyamin Etsiyoni (ed.), Ilan va-Shelah: Derekh ha-Keravot shel Hativat
Golani (Tel-Aviv 1959), 168 and Agin, Netishah, 243-244.
257
Sha’ar ha-Golan, Kibbutz ‘al Shenei Gevulot, 92.
258
“Lo Pursam ha-Din ve-Heshbon ‘al Parasht Pinui Sha’ar ha-Golan,” Haaretz, May 9, 1949.
110
the location and resettling there as soon as the battle had ended. Similar words were published at

the same time in Maariv which determined without a doubt that the members of the kibbutz “had

to retreat.”259

From this, as well as from the early publication in the Ba-Mahaneh newspaper, it appears

that Sha’ar ha-Golan and, to a certain extent, Kibbutz Masada were not only subject to

chastisement for their actions, but also received public support in addition to the qualified support

from the military and kibbutz establishments. Several later historiographical sources include a

condemnation, or at least hints of condemnation, of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan, maintaining that

their actions led to the demoralization of troops and citizens.260 And yet, concise descriptions that

make mention of the “evacuations,” “abandonment,” “desertion,” or “retreat” of Masada and

Sha’ar ha-Golan appear in several sources, usually as part of a broader review of the battles of the

Jordan Valley, in general, and the battles in nearby Tsemah and Degania, in particular.261 Other

surveys of the war in the area ignore completely the stories of Sha’ar ha-Golan and Masada,

something that, at least in Sha’ar ha-Golan, is perceived as a way to ignore the kibbutz and belittle

its contribution to the war effort.262 The view that the two kibbutzim were only humiliated is,

therefore, overly simplistic and overstated.

259
“Keitsad Heherivu ha-Surim et Sha’ar ha-Golan,” Maariv, June 7, 1948. Years later, the defenders of Sha’ar ha-
Golan will also be described as heroes in the book by Eliezer Zaks, 100 Years of Kibbutz – The Story of the Kibbutz
Movement (Tel-Aviv 2010), 205.
260
I. T. Schawarz, Milhemet ha-Shihrur shel ‘Am Yisrael (Jerusalem 1953), 123; Etsiyoni, Ilan va-Shelah, 168 and
176; Lorkh, Korot Milkhemet ha-Atsma’ut, 254; Tal, The Evacuation of Non-Belligerents, 71.
261
See for example “Ma’arakhat Emek ha-Yarden,” Ma’arakhot (51), July 1948, 21-28; Netanel Lorkh, Milkhemet
ha-Atsma’ut (Tel-Aviv 1957), 71-72; IDF History Department, Toldot Milhemet ha-Komemiyut (Tel-Aviv 1959), 168-
169; Ephraim Talmi, Ma u-Mi: Leksikon Milhemet ha-Atsma’ut (Tel-Aviv 1964), 242 and 364; Ben-Zion Dinur, Shaul
Avigur, Yitzhak Ben-Zvi, Elazar Galili, Yisrael Galili, Yehudah Slutzki (eds.), From Resistance to War (Sefer ha-
Haganah), Volume III, Part III (Tel-Aviv 1972), 1569 and 1977; Zeev Schiff and Eitan Haber, Associate Editor, Arieh
Hashavia, Israel, Army and Defence: A Dictionary (Tel-Aviv 1976), 328 and 517; Ben Zion Micha’eli, Abandoned
Settlements (Tel-Aviv 1980), 387; Agin, Netishah; Dayan, Story of My Life, 58-59; Halamish, Meir Yaari, 23. Also
relevant here is the Syrian account by Amin el-Nafuri, “Ha-Tsavah ha-Suri be-Milhemet 1948,” Ma’arkhot 279:280
(1981), 31.
262
Moshe Gophen and Itzhaki Gal (eds.), Lake Kinneret (Israel 1992), 214-217 and Benny Morris Righteous Victims:
A History of the Zionist-Arab Conflict, 1881-2001 (New York 2001), 233. Interestingly, Morris mentions that
111
 The review of the battle that appeared in a book published by Sha’ar ha-Golan in 1962 ends

with the categorical claim that the members of the kibbutz are worthy of facing the following

generation with “their heads held high,” as pioneers who played a key role building a settlement

on the periphery and thus strengthening the Jewish claim to the land.263 This corresponds,

naturally, with the Shaltiel Report that includes a similar statement. Until the “Removing the Mark

of Cain” event that was held in 2001, such statements appeared at least in one other publication of

the kibbutz in 1986.264 However, this statement was unable to rise above the broader tendency in

the kibbutz to avoid the issue, and to refer to it as some kind of internal secret. So, for example, a

small research paper written by a young woman member of the kibbutz in 1987 was shelved by

the jubilee committee of the kibbutz, which decided by majority vote not to publish it.265 The

writer, who was born and raised in the kibbutz, wrote that for years she innocently believed that

the founders retreated out of fear of the battle, without any plan of returning. Based on the findings

of her research she could not but wonder why she and her generation had never been told the true

story. Her research was published by the archive of Sha’ar ha-Golan only in 2001. Four years

earlier, the kibbutz archive received a much more comprehensive and detailed study arguing that

even in 1948 terms (as opposed to 1997), there were no grounds on which to condemn the people

of Sha’ar ha-Golan. The main findings were published in the local kibbutz paper which

emphasized “that they enable the fighters of 1948 and their descendants to toss to the waste basket

of history the “mark of shame” and to raise their heads up high with pride.”266

following the battle in Degania, it was actually the Syrians who beat a hasty retreat, abandoning Masada and Sha’ar
ha-Golan. Also relevant here is Dror, Ba-Emek u-Varamah 83 (May 2001), 26.
263
Sha’ar ha-Golan, Kibbutz ‘al Shenei Gevulot, 126.
264
See the piece by Roni Re’uveni in Be-Sha’ar ha-Golan: Bi-Shenat ha-Yoavel 50:1 (October 3, 1986), 10-11.
265
SHGA, Ziva Shilo, “Sha’ar ha-Golan be-Milhement ha-‘Atsma’ut” (1987).
266
Assaf Agin, “Lo hayah Makom leha-ashim et Anshei Sha’ar ha-Golan u-Masada,” Be-Sha’ar ha-Golan 12:61,
April 24, 1998, 6-11 (emphasis in the original). Also see the piece Agin published in Ha-Daf ha-Yarok on May 22,
1997.
112
 Sha’ar ha-Golan’s process of coming to terms with the trauma of 1948 required an

incubation that lasted for fifty years. And even this process, that culminated in 2001 and resulted

in a greater willingness of the members of the kibbutz to deal with the topic internally, did not lead

to commemoration activity that attracted the attention of people outside the kibbutz.267 In 2006,

for example, the kibbutz arranged a group tour to commemorate the “Haifa Exile,” where the

members of the kibbutz remained in the months following the battle. The passage of time,

combined with social processes that took place in Israeli society in recent decades (details below),

enabled kibbutz members to declare that not only were they were not ashamed of the events of

1948 but, on the contrary, the kibbutz’s pattern of behavior was completely justified.268 One of

the participants in the tour said that “today it is permitted to slaughter holy cows, and it is clear

that sacrifice at all cost, indeed, the binding of Isaac, is not a holy act. Life is holier than everything

[else]. What was our crime? We wanted to live even if the ideal was that everyone would be

slaughtered [in battle].”269

Such words coincide with extensive changes within Israeli society that began in the 1970s.

Among these changes was the decline in social solidarity and a decreased willingness to do military

service; an increase in individualism and values associated with a capitalist market society with a

strong global orientation; changes in the structure of the IDF, which became more and more

professional (as opposed to a popular army); and a shift in the relations between the army and

267
Efrat Kantor, The Collective Memory of Hakibutz Hameuchad – Its Formation and Essential Components (Sede
Boker 2007), 77 and compare to Shirli Singer, “Hag Ba-Sha’ar,” Ha-Kibbutz (13), March 30, 2006, 4.
268
Most relevant here are Yagil Levi, Israel’s Death Hierarchy: Casualty Aversion in a Militarized Democracy (New
York and London 2012); Yoram Bilu and Eliezer Witztum, “War Related Loss and Suffering in Israeli Society: An
Historical Perspective,” Israel Studies 5:2 (Fall 2000), 1-31; Baruch Kimmerling, The Invention and Decline of
Israeliness: State, Society and the Military (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London 2001); Luis Roniger and Michael Feige,
“Tarbut ha-Frayer veha-Zehut ha-Yisraelit,” Alpyaim 7 (1993), 118-136, and Luis Roniger, “Ha-individualism
Bekerev ha-tsibur ha- Yéudi be-Ertz Yiśraẻl Bishenot ha-tishim” in ‘Azmi Bisharah (ed.), Ben ha-Ani la-Anakhnu:
Havenayat Zehuyot ve-Zehut Yisraelit (Jerusalem 1999), 109-128.
269
The words of Nurit Katsiri in Eli Ashkenazi, “Lo Hitabadnu le-Ma’an ha-Moleded, Az Ma,” Haaretz, April 6,
2004.
113
Israeli society. Also relevant is a natural decline in the potency of Zionist ideology two or three

decades after the state was created, and especially after the Yom Kippur War. The first Lebanon

War of 1982 also played a major role in the declining ability of the Israeli government to rally

citizens around propaganda slogans. To this we might add that the increased willingness of Sha’ar

ha-Golan to deal directly with the abandonment of the kibbutz by the military in 1948 took place

after a number of landmark events in the history of the country that were also associated with

withdrawal. These include the 1991 Gulf War, during which there was a broad public debate about

the abandonment of Tel Aviv by thousands of Israelis who fled the city when faced with an Iraqi

missile threat;270 the 1993 Oslo Accords, which led to the withdrawal of Israeli forces from seven

Palestinian cities; and especially the IDF’s withdrawal from South Lebanon in May 2000. That

withdrawal was, in fact, the immediate trigger that led to the “Removing the Mark of Cain”

meeting that was held in Sha’ar ha-Golan in the summer of 2001. The hasty withdrawal of the

Israeli Army from South Lebanon over the course of one night—a step that terminated eighteen

long years of Israeli military presence in the country—brought to the surface in Sha’ar ha-Golan

emotions that had been repressed by the kibbutz for decades. In fact, locals understood the Israeli

withdrawal from Lebanon as additional proof that, under certain circumstances, a military

withdrawal is not only legitimate, but justified and a positive step. If the Israeli leadership could

consciously and deliberately withdraw troops in a calculated manner that was planned in advance

for months, then the decision of a handful of improperly armed settlers to withdraw under a

massive attack was even more defensible. Controversial as the abandonment of Tel Aviv and the

270
Most relevant here is the study by Moshe Zuckermann, Shoah in the Sealed Room: The “Holocaust” in Israeli
Press during the Gulf War (Tel-Aviv 1993). For more about the effect the events and phenomena mentioned above
had had on the contours of Israeli identity see the introduction to Robert Wistrich and David Ohana (eds), The Shaping
of Israeli Identity: Myth, Memory and Trauma (London 1995), especially page xi.
114
Oslo Accords have been, these events deepened the notion that territorial concessions are an

integral part of Israeli military and political life, and at least in some minds, in the national interest.

We have seen that similar to the members of Kibbutz Masada, the members of Sha’ar ha-

Golan only started to deal directly with the issue of the retreat close to the advent of the 21st

century. Even though both kibbutzim focused their efforts at explanation within the kibbutz, Sha’ar

ha-Golan preceded Masada in saying that its people were worthy of holding their heads up high.

Epilogue

The Syrian attack on Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan began just a few hours after the establishment

of the State of Israel on May 14, 1948. It ended four days later, when Syrian forces and local

Palestinians captured the two kibbutzim, looted them, and set them on fire. During this time, Israeli

settlers in Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan, who lacked basic military training, suffered from a severe

scarcity of weapons. Their contact with the IDF was also partial and inconsistent. Because of these

circumstances, they reached the conclusion that they had to retreat temporarily from their

settlements and use the respite from battle to recuperate and reorganize themselves to rejoin the

fighting. This decision, which the locals made without receiving the permission of the IDF in the

Jordan valley, most likely saved their lives. It also led to two tragic results: 1) the total destruction

of the two kibbutzim, which were recaptured by IDF forces a few days later, and 2) the harsh

public condemnation and stigmatization of their members as people who jeopardized the Israeli

war effort and turned their backs on fundamental values of the Zionist movement.

This chapter focused on the way Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan dealt with the trauma of the

war for over half a century. The chapter suggests that the ability to forge historical memory is

largely dependent on the willingness of the historical actors and their descendants to engage in the

115
work of memory formation, using, where necessary, the tools provided by commissions of inquiry.

In the case of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan, the two kibbutzim abstained from almost any

commemoration and mythologization activity until the early 2000s. In so doing, they basically

wasted the potential embedded in the inquiries of 1948 as agents of historical memory.

We have seen that the struggle to clear the names of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan began

with their demand for a military inquiry, and that the Shaltiel Committee, like the kibbutz inquiries

of Gordonia and the Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir, validated the two kibbutzim. They did so, however, in

a somewhat restrained manner, since the decision to abandon the kibbutzim was made without the

required approval of the IDF. With the “verdicts” of the respective commissions of inquiry, the

aspiration of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan to be “exonerated” by the military establishment was

supposed to be fulfilled. Nevertheless, members of the two kibbutzim continued to live in the

shadow of the war for decades, and almost totally abstained from engaging in commemorative

activity that would have glorified their part in the war.

The similarity between the cases of Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan, on the one hand, and

Nitzanim, on the other, is striking. First, both narratives are embedded in specific battles during

the 1948 War. Second, both represent micro-histories that open a window onto the social forces

that brought about their respective condemnations. These condemnations rested upon Zionist

values and myths that demanded that ordinary citizens perform on the battlefield as de facto

soldiers. Third, both cases led to the formation of inquiries that were supposed to clear the names

of the kibbutzim involved—Masada, Nitzanim, and Sha’r ha-Golan—and revise Israeli historical

memory. By demanding that military inquiries be conducted, the kibbutzim sought to receive

official acknowledgement that their failures were not moral but, rather, that they had suffered

116
military defeats at the hands of a stronger and better-equipped enemy. Last, but not least, the three

kibbutzim have lived with the trauma of 1948 and its aftermath for decades.

The fundamental difference between the story of Nitzanim and that of Masada and Sha’ar

ha-Golan lies, then, neither in the events that took place on the battlefield, nor in the conclusions

of the military and kibbutz inquiries. Rather, the distinction can be found in the manner in which

each of the kibbutzim fought over its reputation after the inquiries were completed. For Nitzanim,

the Burstein Committee was the initial salvo in a systematic and persistent fight to reclaim its

reputation. By building on the initial exoneration the kibbutz received from the Committee,

Nitzanim began to mythologize its part in the 1948 War in a myriad of ways, including communal

ceremonies, the publication of books and articles, and the establishment of a local museum. These

disparate commemorative activities, which were first introduced in the late 1940s and continue

into the present, resulted in the attainment of further public acknowledgment that solidified the

heroic status of Nitzanim in the history of the 1948 War. By claiming that the Burstein Committee

failed in its task as an agent of historical memory, Nitzanim insisted that it had to correct the wrong

that was done to it (by the publication of the combat leaflet) over and over again.

Conversely, Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan did not fight the decision to censor the inquiry

reports, both because they were still traumatized by the war and because of their willingness to

accept the decisions of the military establishment, Gordonia, and Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsa’ir, to keep

the inquiries confidential. With regard to the Shaltiel Report, the decision was in force until the

late 1970s (in the case of Masada) and the late 1980s (in the case of Sha’r ha-Golan). This limited

the ability of the kibbutzim to use both military and kibbutz inquires to shape the perception of

their roles in the 1948 War. The passive approach that characterized their behavior between 1949

and the early 2000s was the result of a conscious decision on their part. As chronicled in the fourth

117
section of this chapter, members of Sha’ar ha-Golan considered what to do to repair the reputation

of their kibbutz as early as 1949, but the deliberations did not yield any substantial action. Masada

was even more reticent to delve into its own past. A partial shift in this mode of (in)action finally

took root in the early 2000s, when Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan publically demanded public

acknowledgment of their honorable role in the war for the first time. Their call to remove the mark

of Cain did not lead, however, to systematic commemorative activity.

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 The Agranat Commission Report and the Making of the Israeli Memory of the Yom
Kippur War271

Forward

Forty years have passed since the end of the Yom Kippur War, yet it remains an open wound in

Israeli history.272 Scholars and laymen are in agreement that it is one of the biggest traumas in the

history of the country, second only to the Holocaust. The human price of the war—some 3,000

soldiers killed in less than three weeks (October 6-24, 1973)—was unprecedented in Israeli

military history.273 Immediately after the conclusion of the war, the Israeli public demanded

answers to a number of issues. How could Israel have been surprised by Egypt and Syria on the

holiest day of the Jewish calendar and who was responsible for the failures that led to the attack

(ha-mehdal)? In the public sphere, additional questions arose that touched on the essence of

Zionism, on the credibility of the Israeli leadership, and on Israel’s chances for survival in the

Middle East. This heated social atmosphere intensified in April 1974, when the state commission

of inquiry that was set up to investigate the war (hereafter: “the Agranat Commission” or simply

“the Commission”) submitted its interim report to the government.274

271
A Hebrew version of this chapter was published in the journal Iyunim 23 (2013): 34-64.
272
As Ze’ev Schiff mentioned in 1974, “the war of October 1973 has been variously called The Day of Judgment, The
Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur, Ramadan and simply the October War.” To this list, one should also add the Egyptian
code name “Operation Bader” (Spark) and the 1973 Arab-Israeli War. Since this study focuses on the effect the
Agranat Commission has left on Israelis, I have chosen to use the most common Israeli name for the war, that is, the
“Yom Kippur War.” Regarding this terminology, see Ze’ev Schiff, October Earthquake (Tel-Aviv 1974) vi; Saad El
Shazly, The Crossing of the Suez (San Francisco 2003, revised ed.), 39, and Chaim Herzog, The War of Atonement
(Tel-Aviv 1998), 56.
273
The 1948 War cost the lives of some 6,000 Israeli soldiers and it lasted longer than a year. On the periodization of
the 1948 War, see the first chapter of Benny Morris’s book, 1948: A History of the First Arab-Israeli War (New Haven
2008). The number of Israeli troops who died in the Yom Kippur War is actually not entirely clear. Estimates vary
between 2,297 and 2,653 men (see Ronen Bergman and Gil Meltzer, The Yom Kippur War—Moment of Truth [Tel-
Aviv 2003], 507). The number of Arab casualties was significantly higher and is estimated to be about 15,000 men
(Benny Morris, Righteous Victims: A History of the Zionist-Arab Conflict, 1881-2001 [New York 2001], 431). Added
to these bleak numbers one should include the thousands of those who were physically and/or mentally wounded.
274
I use the term “interim report” to denote the report the Agranat Commission issued on April 1, 1974. On July 10,
1974, the Commission published a second interim report (The Agranat Commission, Milhemet Yom Ha-kippurim, Din
Ve-heshbon helki Nosaf: Hanemakot veha-shelamot la-du’aḥ ha-Helki mi-Yom 9 Nisan Tashlad (Hereafter, “Agranat,
Reasoning and Completion” or “the Second Interim Report”), Two Volumes [Jerusalem 1974]). The Commission
119
 Chaired by Chief Justice Simon Agranat, the Agranat Commission shook the Israeli

political system to its foundation.275 The Commission recommended the immediate dismissal of a

number of high-ranking officers, including IDF Chief of Staff, David (Dado) Elazar, Director of

the Military Intelligence Branch (hereafter DMI), General Eli Zeira, and his deputy and director

of the AMAN Research Department, Brigadier-General Aryeh Shalev.276 Conversely, the

Commission exempted Prime Minister Golda Meir and Minister of Defense Moshe Dayan from

any responsibility for the war, either personal or ministerial.277 This separation between the

political and military echelons exacerbated the public demoralization characteristic of post-war

Israeli society. It is, therefore, not surprising that the Commission is mostly remembered in the

context of Israeli politics and the personal recommendations it did or did not make.278 Prior studies

submitted its third and final report to the government and to the Knesset Foreign Affairs and Defense Committee on
January 30, 1975 (Milhemet Yom-Hakippurim – Din Ve-Heshbon Shelishi ve-Aharon (Hereafter, “Agranat, Third and
Final”), Seven Volumes [Jerusalem, 1975]). The Israeli press quoted from and dealt extensively with the interim report
immediately upon its publication in April 1974. Unlike this report, however, which the Commission made public, the
Second Interim Report and the Third and Final Report were almost completely censored. The only parts of these latter
reports that the Commission did make public were a handful of introductory pages, which the ‘Am Oved Publication
House collected, along with the first report, and published as a book (Du’ah Va’adat Agranat, Va’adat ha-Hakirah—
Milhemet Yom Kippur (hereafter, “Agranat, 1975”) [Tel-Aviv 1975]). Further details about the publication process of
the Agranat Report, see below in the section “The Publication of the Agranat Report.”
275
In addition to Simon Agranat, the Commission was manned by four figures: Supreme Justice Moshe Landau, The
State Comptroller Dr. Itzhak (Ernst) Nebenzahl, and two former IDF Chiefs, Major–General (Res.) Yigael Yadin, and
Major-General (Res.) Haim Laskov. The Commission was assisted by a team of six men who collected written and
oral evidence, and by two senior assistants, who both had military and scholarly backgrounds: Col. Yaakov Hisdai,
who functioned as military researcher, and Major (Res.) Yoav Gelber, who was a scientific assistant. The secretarial
staff was made of Justice David Bartov, and attorney Aharon Aminoff.
276
AMAN is a section of the IDF Directorate of Military Intelligence. It is the Hebrew acronym for Military
“Intelligence Branch” or “Intelligence Wing.” Throughout the paper I use these terms interchangeably.
277
Broadly speaking, the term “ministerial responsibility” alludes to two questions: 1) which minister is
constitutionally accountable for a certain governmental policy, and 2) whether a minister is personally responsible for
failures that fall under the jurisdiction of his ministry. Regarding the separation that the Agranat Commission made
between personal and ministerial responsibility, see Agranat, 1975, 44-51 and Avigdor Klagsbald, Tribunals of Inquiry
(Jerusalem 2001), 332-338.
278
According to common Israeli wisdom, the Yom Kippur War and the Agranat Commission most significantly
impacted the country's political and military ranks, as evidenced by the resignation of Golda Meir’s government, and
the personal recommendations the Agranat Commission did or did not make against state officials and military
officers. Documentation of this notion is widely available. See, for example, the review of the effects of the Agranat
Report on the website of the Israel Defense Forces and Defense Establishment Archives (hereafter, IDFA), at:
[Link] (last visited on July 29, 2013); Ze’ev Schiff and Eitan Haber, eds., together with Arie
Hashvia, associate ed., Israel, Army and Defence (Tel-Aviv 1976), 23; Morris, Righteous Victims, 441-443; Neil Asher
120
about the Yom Kippur War and its aftermath have concluded that the Commission was unable to

significantly change the way in which the evaluations of national intelligence is formed. 279

Nevertheless, the Commission did leave an enduring impact on Israeli political culture, in which

commissions of inquiry are viewed as an important mechanism for safeguarding public ethics.280

This chapter suggests a new way of thinking about the Agranat Commission by focusing

on the nexus between the Commission’s activities and Israeli historical memory. 281 More

specifically, it analyzes the process that enabled the Commission to coin what was to become the

most common theory about the Yom Kippur surprise—the “Concept” of AMAN (Ha-

konseptziyah)—and etch it into Israeli historical memory. 282 With its effects still felt to this day,

I argue that this process is the Commission’s most significant and enduring impact on Israeli

society. The chapter tackles, then, three main questions: 1) how was the Concept formulated and

Silberman, A Prophet from Amongst You. The Life of Yigael Yadin: Soldier, Scholar and Mythmaker of Modern Israel
(Reading, MA 1993), 331.
279
A cluster of the Commission's recommendations regarding the formation of Israel’s national intelligence
assessment is available in Agranat, 1975, 25-33. As scholar Shmuel Even noted, the recommendations of the Agranat
Commission and other Israeli commissions of inquiry regarding the formation of the national intelligence assessment
were mostly rejected. See Shmuel Even, “Va’adot livdikat ha-Modi’in be-Yisrael: Madu’a Hamlatsotehen Hozrot ‘al
‘Atsman ve-enan Meyusamot,”‘Iyunim be-Modi’in 1:1 (2007): 25-48. Also see Shlomo Sphiro, “Commissions of
Inquiry as Agents of Change in Israeli Intelligence Community,” in Commissions of Inquiry and National Security,
eds., Stuart Farson and Mark Phythian (Santa Barbara, CA 2011), 158-178.
280
The Agranat Commission was the first Israeli state commission of inquiry that led to the resignations of high-
ranking state officials and military personnel. Using empirical data, Yifat Holzman-Gazit and Ra’anan Sulitzeanu-
Kenan have pointed out that Israeli citizens expect commissions of inquiry to function first and foremost as
“watchdogs” of public ethics, and only then to discover facts about the topics of their investigation. See the article by
Holzman-Gazit and Sulitzeanu-Kenan, “Emet o Bikoret: Emun ha-tsibur be-Va'adot Hakirah ve-Shinui 'Amadot be-
Yahas la-'Eru'a ha-Nehkar—Duah Va'adat Winograd ke-Mikreh Bohan, Mishpat 'u-Mimshal 13 (2011): 225-270.
281
Throughout the chapter I use the terms “historical memory” and “historical discourse” interchangeably. By using
these inclusive terms I have in mind different kinds of memories, including the official memory of the Israeli
establishment, autobiographical memories of war veterans, cultural memory that receives expression in literature,
movies, and theatre, and historical memory, which is available in the historical manuscripts of professional and non-
professional scholars. About these kinds of memories, see Rafi Nets-Zehngut, “Israeli Memory of the Palestinian
Refugee Problem,” Peace Review: A Journal of Social Justice 24:2 (2012): 187-189; Idem, “The Passing of Time and
the Collective Memory of Conflicts,” Peace and Change 37:2 (2002): 253-25. Also relevant here is the editors’
introduction by Motti Neiger, Oren Meyers and Eyal Zandberg, eds., On Media Memory: Collective Memory in a New
Media Age (New York 2011), 1-24 and the chapter by Henry Rousso, “The Confusion Between Memory and History”,
ibid, The Hunting Past: History, Memory, and Justice in Contemporary France (Philadelphia 1998), 1-24.
282
Throughout the chapter I capitalize the term “Concept” when I refer to the specific Israeli use of the word.
121
appropriated by the Agranat Commission? 2) What enabled the Commission to embed the Concept

into Israeli historical memory? and 3) How has the Concept’s ubiquity affected the historiography

regarding the war? This chapter concludes that the Agranat Commission functioned primarily as

an agent of history, memory, and language.283

Introduction
It was the Agranat Commission that first introduced the Israeli public to the “Concept” of AMAN.

According to the Commission, the key to understanding the Yom Kippur War lay in the

intelligence failure that preceded it, especially the stubborn adherence of AMAN’s chiefs to the

Concept. According to the Commission, the Concept was built on the belief that Egypt and Syria

would not wage a comprehensive war against Israel until the Egyptian Air Force was able to

neutralize the supremacy of the Israeli Air Force. More specifically, the Commission detailed three

main pillars on which the Israeli intelligence failure rested:

First, the stubborn adherence [of the intelligence bodies] to what they referred to as the

‘concept’, according to which a) Egypt would not go to war against Israel unless it was

first convinced of its aerial capability to strike deep within Israeli territory, especially

Israeli primary airstrips, in order to paralyze the Israeli air force, and b) Syria would not

launch a large-scale attack on Israel unless it was able to do so simultaneously with an

Egyptian attack.284 Second, General Eli Zeira promised to give the IDF sufficient warning

283
As a state mechanism that coined a central term for understanding the Yom Kippur War, the Agranat Commission
embodies the conceptual model sociologist Gary Alan Fine developed about reputational entrepreneurs. See his book
Difficult Reputations: Collective Memories of the Evil, Inept, and Controversial (Chicago and London 2001).
Furthermore, the Commission actually became a “site-of-memory,” a term that is borrowed from the work of Pierre
Nora, “Between Memory and History: Les Lieux de Mémoire,” Representations 26 (1989): 7-24.
284
Agranat, 1975, 19 (emphasis added). It should be noted that the Agranat Commission criticized AMAN chiefs’
“stubborn adherence” to the Concept, and not the existence of an intelligence concept in general. As scholars of
different disciplines have stressed, conceptions, paradigms, and premises are part and parcel of the human way of
122
 with regard to the enemy’s intentions to wage a comprehensive war285 . . . . Thirdly, in the

days preceding the Yom Kippur War, AMAN had had ample information [about the

upcoming war, yet] AMAN and the DMI did not read these signals correctly, due to their

dogmatic adherence to the Concept.286

According to the Agranat Commission, therefore, the Concept was the original sin that led to the

conflict of October 1973. The Commission acknowledged the fact that the above-mentioned

premises regarding Egypt’s state of war readiness prevailed in AMAN even before Zeira was

appointed DMI in October 1972. It also recognized that in the months preceding the war, Zeira did

not reject the possibility that Israel’s neighbors might attack.287 This did not stop the Commission

from recommending Zeira’s dismissal from AMAN.

Archival sources only recently released indicate that the Commission’s assertion that

military intelligence referred to the Concept when using the term “concept” is incorrect. Indeed,

some intelligence personnel, including Brigadier-General Shalev, notified the Commission that

thinking when faced with uncertainty. See, for example, Samuel Huntington, Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking
of World Order (New York 1996), 29-31, and Daniel Kahneman’s landmark studies about decision making, Thinking,
Fast and Slow (New York 2011). About the necessity of having an intelligence concept, see Yoel Ben-Porat, “Ha-
‘Arkhot Modi’in—Madu’a hen Korsot” in Intelligence and National Security, Zvi Offer and Avi Kober, eds. (Tel-
Aviv 1987), 223-251; Colonel Itai, “Sede ha-Mokshim shel ha-Modi’in: Hovat Ketsin ha-Modi’in ‘al pi Va’adot
Hakirah,” in Ha-Modi’in veha-Kevarnit, eds., Orna Kazimirsky, Nava Grossman-Aloni, and Aludi Sari (Tel-Aviv
2004), 93; Uri Sagi, Lights within the Fog (Tel-Aviv 1998), 124-131, 144-145, and Aharon Ze’evi Farkash and Dov
Tamari, To the Best of our Knowledge (Tel-Aviv 2011), 218-219.
285
Agranat, 1975, 19, and compare to Agranat, Reasoning and Completion, 64, 69, 71-72. Intelligence expert Uri Bar-
Joseph also stresses that prior to the war, Zeira led Israeli leaders to believe that he could alert them about an Egyptian
crossing of the Suez Canal soon enough to enable the IDF to enlist enough reserve forces to block the attack. See Uri
Bar-Joseph, The Watchmen Fell Asleep (Lidia 2001), 117. Zeira, on his part, has insisted that he never pretended to
know the enemy’s intentions, although he was well aware of the enemy’s actions. See his book, The October 73 War:
Myth Against Reality (Tel-Aviv 1993), 80-81. In 2004, Zeira published a new edition of his book that was titled Myth
versus Reality (Tel-Aviv 2004).
286
Agranat, 1975, 19. Interestingly enough, according to a House Select Committee, the CIA also failed to anticipate
the outbreak of the Yom Kippur War due to its adherence to a number of incorrect premises. About the “American
Concept,” which was different than the one held by AMAN, see The United States Congress, The Pike Report,
(Nottingham 1977), 141-148.
287
Agranat, 1975, 4. One should note that Eli Zeira dismisses the claim that he “adopted” the concept (Zeira, The
October 73 War, 240).
123
the term “concept” was nowhere to be found in the language of the IDF Intelligence Branch prior

to the war. This point opens a window into the three questions that stand at the heart of this chapter.

The answers to these questions uncover a complex historical process at the end of which

the Agranat Commission rendered the Concept the central explanation for the Yom Kippur War.

The process included the prolonged publication of the Agranat Report, which started in 1974 and

continued well into the 2000s288; the personal recommendations the Commission did or did not

make about state officials; the focus of the Commission on the failures and mishaps of the IDF

(rather than on its successes and accomplishments); and the mandate that the government gave to

the Commission, as well as the manner the Commission chose to read it. The most important factor

enabling the Commission to sear the Concept into Israeli historical memory was contained in the

term “concept” itself, which appeared to encapsulate AMAN’s work on the eve of the war. In

practice, however, General Zeira only used that term as shorthand to describe how he and AMAN

understood the Egyptian war plan. Thus, the term “concept” cannot, and should not, be used to

express the complexity of the work of AMAN prior to the war.

To make these points clearer, the chapter is constructed as follows: The first part describes

the dynamic that brought the term “concept,” as presented in the Agranat Report, to prominence.

The second section examines some of the major factors and circumstances that made the Concept

into a common explanation for the war. The third and final part of the chapter seeks to demonstrate

how the historiography about the war reflects the dominance of the Concept in Israeli historical

memory. Yet, in the period between the end of the War (October 1973) and the publication of the

288
As I explained in footnote 4, and as will be further explained below, the Agranat Commission published three
reports in a process that has not yet completed. Therefore, I use the term “Agranat Report” as an inclusive term that
refers to any output the Commission issued.

124
interim report in April 1974, intelligence affairs in general, and the Concept in particular, were not

necessarily viewed as the main factors leading to the outbreak of war.

“What You Call a Concept”

As mentioned above, the Commission offered three reasons for the intelligence failure. First was

the “stubborn adherence [of the intelligence bodies] to what they referred to as the ‘concept.’”289

Interestingly enough, according to the recently published protocols of the Agranat Commission,

AMAN personnel did not use the term “concept” prior to the war. In his testimony before the

Agranat Commission, the director of the AMAN Research Department, Aryeh Shalev, testified

that AMAN had assumed a “low probability” for war due to the limited capabilities of the Egyptian

Air Force.290 However, Shalev dismissed the notion that he and AMAN were beholden to a

dogmatic concept. In a dialogue with Commission member Yigael Yadin, Shalev explained

AMAN’s error as a lack of sufficient information:

Yadin: Since you were wrong, what in your opinion, misled you: bad information, an

incorrect assessment, bad concept, a lack of [mental] flexibility, or improper organization?

That’s what we are interested in. Do you have an answer to this question or not? . . . . Didn’t

you have [enough] information? You said, “Yes, there was [enough] information.”291

289
Agranat 1975, 19 (emphasis added).
290
IDFA 12-383/1975, 2136 and 2150. The Commissioners and the individuals who testified before them obviously
used “spoken language,” which is sometimes unclear on paper. By translating Hebrew protocols into English I have
tried to make the text as readable as possible. Hence, I allowed myself to make some minor amendments in the text to
make it more coherent, such as correcting grammatical mistakes and discarding unnecessary repetitions.
291
IDFA 7-383/1975, 1153. The session was held on December 12, 1973.
125
 Shalev: I have tried to explain that the information which was available to us was not good

enough to reach the conclusion about a war on [October] 6 . . . . I think that we did not

have enough information to reach this conclusion.292

Later in his testimony, Shalev was also asked about the Concept by Major-General (Res.) Haim

Laskov, who assumed, or determined, that AMAN had clung to a failed concept:

Laskov: You [AMAN’s Research Department] created a concept that according to your

reading was correct as of 1971, 1972, and April-May 1973. You thought it should also be

relevant in September-October 1973 . . . . You formed the concept and were captured by

it.

Shalev: If someone gets the impression that someone sat down and came up with a kind of

concept to which he [later] clung, and could not get over it, then I think that this impression

is wrong . . . . The point here is that we did not define a concept for ourselves, and then

simply follow it. [Rather] we received new information regularly and examined ourselves

[our assessments] in light of this data . . . . By the way . . . . I normally don’t use the term

concept. I don’t know how this term got here. I say evaluation.293

In return, Yadin remarked that Shalev’s final comment was no more than a “philosophic” argument

about semantics.294 “However,” Yadin added, “I shall give you an example of a concept, [what] I

292
Ibid, 1555. In another part of his testimony, Shalev raised other explanations for the failure. See IDFA 12-383/1975,
2150, 3233 and compare to Shalev “Modi’in Be-mivhan: Edut Ishit,” in Thirty Years Later, ed., Anat Kurz (Tel-Aviv
2004), 18. Years later, Shalev retrospectively noted that “it is clear that an assessment of impending war should have
been made on 5 October 1973.” Aryeh Shalev, Israel’s Intelligence Assessment before the Yom Kippur War:
Disentangling Deception and Distraction (Brighton and Portland 2010), 227.
293
IDFA 12-383/1975, 2140-2144. The session was held on December 16, 1973.
294
During the investigation of Yair Algom, who directed the Research Department of the Israeli Ministry of Foreign
Affairs, Yadin was interested in “semantics.” The minutes of the relevant session are available online (see 392):
[Link] (last visited on
July 20, 2013).
126
call a concept. [If you wish] you can call it “evaluation.” You must check everything . . . . That’s

what I call an intelligence concept . . . . Even [when there is] a concept, one should check whether

it is right [or wrong].”295

It is conceivable that, in the course of the hearing, the discussion about terminology might

have appeared to be insignificant semantics. In light of the ongoing debate about the interim report

and the Concept, however, Yadin’s words took on a different complexion. In fact, following the

work of the Agranat Commission, the term “concept” became part of Israeli military terminology,

and assumed a life of its own well beyond intelligence affairs. 296 Hebrew speakers frequently use

the term to denote a wide range of fields and topics not necessarily connected to the Yom Kippur

War. As historian Ze’ev Tsahor argues the term “concept” denotes a symbolic turning point in

Israeli history. It marks the beginning of a new post-Zionist era, in which Israeli citizens and

scholars began to raise doubts regarding Zionist pioneer values, the credibility of Israeli leaders,

and their willingness to make peace with Arab and Muslim countries.297

Shalev’s assertion that AMAN personnel did not use the term ‘concept’ is confirmed by

the testimony of Simantov Benjamin. This low-ranking officer belonged to a small group of

intelligence personnel who rejected the official assessment that there was a “low probability” of

war. Convinced that a war was indeed about to break out, these men were courageous and

295
IDFA 12-383/1975, 2145-2146.
296
Definitions of the term “Concept” are available, for example, in Amos Gilboa, Ephraim Lapid and Yossi Erlikh,
eds., Masterpiece (Tel-Aviv 2008), 269; Eitan Haber and Ze’ev Schiff, Yom Kippur Lexicon (Or Yehudah 2003), 365-
366, and Gideon Avital-Eppstein, The Yom Kippur War: A Battle over the Collective Memory (Jerusalem and Tel-
Aviv 2013), 254-255.
297
Ze’ev Tsahor, “Me’ever le-Dimdumei ha-Ethosim ha-Meyasedim,” in Thirty Years Later, ed., Kurz, 104. An
alternative identification of the definitive turning point in Israeli history instead of the Yom Kippur War would be the
Six Day War. For more about post-Zionism, see Tom Segev, The New Zionists (Jerusalem 2001); Tuvia Friling, ed.,
An Answer to a Post-Zionist Colleague (Tel-Aviv 2003); Pinhas Ginossar and Avi Bareli, eds., Zionism: A
Contemporary Controversy: Research Trends and Ideological Approaches (Sede Boker 1996).
127
responsible enough to share their views and concerns with their commanding officers. Their calls

fell on deaf ears.298 As Benjamin stated in his testimony:

Here I would like to elaborate on my argument about the [outbreak] of the war. You would

surely be surprised to hear that [prior to the war] I did not know that AMAN had a concept.

You disclosed it in the interim report. The Concept was never put on paper. No document

indicated that AMAN had such a Concept. However, as an officer in the southern

command, when I was just beginning to serve as a squad commander, I tried to analyze the

available data—that’s the first thing one does when evaluating the [enemy’s] posture.299

Thus, contrary to what the Agranat Commission report says, AMAN personnel did not use the

term “concept” in reference to a national intelligence assessment prior to the war. The commonly

accepted understanding of the intelligence failure was unknown to the people whom the

Commission held responsible for creating the Concept. This raises the question of why the

Commission insisted that the intelligence bodies referred to the Concept. The answer to this

question is found in the testimony of AMAN Chief, Eli Zeira.300

Unlike his deputy, Brigadier-General Shalev, who rejected the idea that AMAN personnel

used the term “concept,” General Zeira used the term loosely in his testimony. This was Zeira’s

way of encapsulating his complex ideas and simplifying them for the commissioners, who were

298
About these alerts, see Elhanan Oren, Toldot Milhemet Yom Ha-Kippurim (Tel-Aviv 2004), 49; Shmuel Gordon,
Thirty Hours in October (Tel-Aviv 2008), 169-174. Further details about the topic are available in Ze’evi-Farksh and
Tamari, To the Best of our Knowledge, 108, and in the section by Haim Laskov “Modi’in Sade, Nitsulo veha-‘Arkhato
Erev Milhemet Yom ha-Kippurim,” in Agranat, Reasoning and Completion, 398-423.
299
IDFA 30-383/1975, 6161. The session was held on May 9, 1974.
300
The Israel Defense Forces and Defense Establishment Archives only published the minutes of Eli Zeira’s testimony
on October 31, 2013, a few months after I completed the writing of this chapter. As a result, Zeira’s quoted remarks
in this chapter are borrowed from Agranat, Reasoning and Completion and not from the aforementioned minutes. It
is, however, important to mention that the said minutes only support and strengthen the arguments raised in this
chapter.

128
not particularly familiar with AMAN’s work. The Commission, therefore, partly accepted Zeira’s

testimony. It adopted his choice of terminology, while rejecting the underlying explanation of the

term itself. As a result, the Commission held Zeira personally responsible for the intelligence

failure.

In his testimony, Zeira emphasized that, prior to the war, AMAN adhered to a number of

basic suppositions concerning the enemy’s intentions to wage war:

The research personnel came to me and formulated a concept, which made sense to me.

The question I ask[ed] myself was [as follows]: Where is my insurance in case the

researchers are wrong? My guarantees were [a number of highly reliable sources] and I

told myself: assuming that they are wrong, then I must have an unequivocal indication that

they are wrong . . . that’s the whole Torah on one foot. [Since] there is a concept, one

should come with facts that undermine it. I have here [outstanding sources] which give me

an indication of whether this concept is valid or undermined. That’s exactly the essence of

essence of my entire thought.301

Zeira also addressed the concept at another point:

According to our concept—what the Egyptians basically saw as a [pre]-condition [for war]

was the possibility of neutralizing our air force. [Their] challenge was not throwing three

bombs on Tel-Aviv, but rather neutralizing the air force. Hence, we believed [they] needed

five [fighter] squads.302

301
Agranat, Reasoning and Completion, 64 (quoted from the session of December 9, 1973), and compare to Daniel
Asher, Breaking the Concept (Tel-Aviv 2003), 80, 82. One should also note that Zeira had already used the term
“concept” in his initial testimony, on November 27, 1973. (Zeira testified before the Commission no less than seven
times). Regarding the “certain sources” mentioned above see note 371 below.
302
Agranat, Reasoning and Completion, 61. The session was held December 12, 1973.
129
 AMAN assumed that Egypt was unable to launch a massive aerial attack on Israel until the

Soviet Union provided it with five fighter squads and ‘Scud’ surface-to-surface missiles. This

armament transfer was expected to be completed in the later months of 1975. The outbreak of the

Yom Kippur War in October 1973 indicates, however, that at some point AMAN’s assessment

was flawed. The question of when exactly this happened has no clear answer. According to Uri

Bar-Joseph, the last hurdle on the path to war was removed in late October 1972, when President

Sadat replaced Mohammed Ahmed Sadek with General Ahmad Ismail Ali as Minister of War.303

Meanwhile, former Mossad chief Zvi Zamir argues that the turning point in the Egyptian war plan

occurred in February 1973.304 Former DMIs Chaim Herzog and Eli Zeira trace the shift to April

1973,305 and historian Yoav Gelber argues that the Concept collapsed in a three-phase process that

ended in April-May of the same year.306

One should distinguish between the questions of when Egypt decided to wage war against

Israel without the aerial capacity to strike deep into Israeli territory and when Israeli intelligence

was able, if at all, to realize that shift had taken place.307 The activation of the Israeli “Blue-White”

state of readiness in May 1973, indicates that at least several high-ranking Israeli officials,

including the Minister of Defense, the IDF Chief-of-Staff, and the director of Mossad had

determined early in 1973 that Egypt was prepared to wage war by the spring. This estimation

303
Bar-Joseph, The Watchman Fell Asleep, 124-125.
304
Zvi Zamir, With Open Eyes (Or Yehuda 2011), 176.
305
Chaim Herzog, The War of Atonement (Tel-Aviv 1997), 48, and compare to the lecture Zeira delivered regarding
“The Concept and the Surprise,” available in Hayim Ufaz and Yaakov Bar-Siman-Tov, eds., Milhemet Yom Ha-
Kippurim—Mabat Mihadash (Jerusalem 1999), 70.
306
Yoav Gelber, “The Collapse of the Israeli Intelligence’s Conception,” Intelligence and National Security (2012),
10. According to Yeshayahu Ben-Porat, the Concept collapsed in late May 1973. See Ben-Porat et al Ha-mehdal (Tel-
Aviv 1974), 13.
307
About the Egyptian war plan, see Aharon Ze’evi, Ha-Ona’ah ha-Mitsrit be-Tokhnit Milhemet Yom ha-Kippurim
(Tel-Aviv University, 1980).
130
corresponds with the conclusion of the Agranat Commission, according to which Egypt deserted

its original war plan in the spring to wait for substantial Soviet military aid. 308

Significant as the intelligence failure was, the Commission encapsulated a complex array

of military strategies into a single word—Concept—which became a common theory for

understanding the Yom Kippur surprise. It may well be that Zeira was right in arguing that the

Commission described the run-up to war in too simplified and inaccurate a manner.309

Nevertheless, by giving his testimony, Zeira unintentionally helped the Commission to simplify

this background, and turn the term “concept” into the explanation for the Yom Kippur surprise.

The next part of the chapter looks at some of the primary factors and circumstances that enabled

the Concept to infiltrate Israeli historical memory.

Figure 5 - The Agranat Commission in its first meeting (sitting from the left): Yigael Yadin, Moshe Landau, Simon Agranat,
Itzhak (Ernst) Nebenzahl, and Haim Laskov. (Photographer: Ya’acov Sa’ar)

308
Agranat, Reasoning and Completion, 83 (emphasis added). By making this point, the Commission actually set the
stage, most likely unconsciously and unintentionally, for an argument Eli Zeira raised years later about the “Egyptian
Concept.” See notes 380 and 381 below.
309
Zeira, The October 73 War, 76. One should not read this comment as if I accept each and every argument Zeira
raises against the Agranat Commission.
131
 Figure 6 - AMAN Chief, Gen. Eli Zeira
Photos are courtesy of the Government Press Office and the Israeli Defense Forces and Defense Establishment Archives

Factors and Circumstances that Enabled the Commission to Elevate the Concept

Gradual Publication Process

There is something misleading in the term “Agranat Report,” which for decades, in practice,

referred only to the interim report. Presented to the Israeli government on April 1, 1974, this

booklet of about forty pages was widely discussed on the front pages of Israeli newspapers

immediately upon its publication.310 Moreover, the Israeli press quoted large chunks of it word-

for-word. On July 10, 1974, the Commission issued a second interim report, which, unlike the first

interim report, was almost completely censored.311 Out of 423 pages, divided into two volumes,

the Commission approved the publication of no more than six introductory pages. By doing so, it

310
Agranat, 1975, 10-51.
311
Agranat, Reasoning and Completion.
132
exercised its legal right to censor its reports if it was deemed in the interest of state security, as

well as for other considerations such as safeguarding morality. The third and final Agranat Report,

which the Commission submitted to the government and the Knesset Foreign Affairs and Defense

Committee on January 30, 1975, covers 1,511 pages and is divided into seven volumes.312 As is

true of the second report, its contents were heavily censored and inaccessible to the general public.

The introduction that the Commission did make public does not offer any substantial information

about the war or about the published parts of the prior reports. The only people allowed to review

the final report—besides the government ministers and Knesset members—were high-ranking

officers who read the report at certain IDF facilities. The decision to allow these officers access to

the report was taken by the Commission, the IDF Chief-of-Staff and the Minister of Defense,

although the decision was only partly implemented. There were two main reasons for that: 1) little

interest on the part of the officers, who often did not take the time and effort to read the report, and

2) the fact that the officers were not required to read the report by clear orders.313 The sections of

the three reports that the Commission made public, however, attracted much public interest. As a

result, in 1975, the ‘Am Oved publication house compiled and published them as a book.314

With the submission of the third and final report, the Commission completed its research

and production process, which lasted fourteen months. During this time, it held 156 meetings,

heard the testimonies of ninety witnesses, and received additional evidence from 188 IDF

personnel. The Commission took strict security measures to safeguard its work. Its meetings,

312
Agranat, Third and Final, 8-9 (of the introduction). About the legal right of Israeli state commissions of inquiry to
publish or censor their reports, see section 20 of the Israeli Commissions of Inquiry Law, 5729-1968. See also,
Klagsbald, Tribunals of Inquiry, 317-318.
313
The IDF Chief of Staff approved the decision to allow high-ranking officers to read the Agranat Report on March
6, 1975. One should compare this document to The Israeli Knesset, Knesset Protocols 73 (Jerusalem), March 11,
1975, 2090.
314
Agranat, 1975.
133
which were held in Jerusalem, were closed to the public and media alike. The Commission insisted

on not making public any part of its deliberations, and refused to make known the list of witnesses

who were subpoenaed to testify, let alone excerpts of their testimonies. Even the stenographers

who took notes during the hearings were replaced every few minutes. This was the Commission’s

way to ensure that no one, except for the five commissioners, was exposed to all of the available

evidence.315

The partial publication of the third and final report was made possible due to a petition

brought by the daily newspaper Ma’ariv before the Supreme Court in 1993.316 In that year, which

marked the twentieth anniversary of the war, the newspaper demanded that the government

declassify the contents of the report about which the public was most curious. The court ruled in

favor of Ma’ariv. It was not a difficult case to make since Prime Minister and Minister of Defense

Yitzhak Rabin and the IDF Chief-of-Staff Ehud Barak, did not object to the petition. In an

interview Barak gave to the IDF Radio Galei Tzahal, he argued that the publication of the report

would not drastically change public knowledge of the war, and that the value of the publication

lay in the act of publication itself.317

315
General Shmuel Gonen (Gorodish) raised harsh accusations against the policies and regulations of the Commission
even before it published its final report. See two petitions Gonen submitted to the Supreme Court: 1) High Court
Jurisdiction (hereafter, HCJ) 128/74 Shmuel Gonen v. The Commission of Inquiry—Into the Yom Kippur War (Pesak
Din 28 (2), 80, (1974), and 2) HCJ 469/74, Shmuel Gonen v. The Commission of Inquiry (Pesak Din 29 (1), 635,
(1974). In them, Gonen focused on what seemed to him as the narrowing way in which the Commission read Section
15 of the Israeli Commissions of Inquiry Law, 5729-1968. (This section concerns the legal right of witnesses who
may be harmed by the work of a certain commission of inquiry.) The Supreme Court rejected both petitions. It should
be noted that the Agranat Commission's interpretation of Section 15 sparked lively debate among legal scholars. See
Shimon Shitrit, “Va’adat ha-Hakira—Milhement Yom ha-Kippurim: Ha-Ma’azan ha-Kolel le-Khaf Zekhut,”
Mishpatim 8:6 (1977): 74-90; Ruth Gavison, “’Al Perusho ha-Nakhon shel Se’if 15 le-Hok Va’adot Hakirah,”
Mishpatim 6:3 (1976): 548-562; Gidon Ginat, “Hit’arvut Bagats be-Diyune Va’adot Hakirah,” Ha-Peraklit 3:30
(1976): 185-201. Retrospectively, the Commission’s reading of Section 15 also led to the second amendment of the
Israeli Commissions of Inquiry Law, 5729-1968. See the reasoning for the Second Amendment, Commissions of
Inquiry Bill [1383], 1979.
316
HCJ 5088/93 Ma’ariv v. The State of Israel.
317
Barak was interviewed by journalist Moshe Shlonsky on September 23, 1993. A transcript is available in IDFA
177-2224/1994. It should be noted that Yigael Yadin had already called for the final report’s publication in 1979,
while serving as Deputy Prime-Minister. See Ma’ariv, February 27, 1979, 2.
134
 In July 1994, the government oversaw the publication of the Agranat Report—excluding

the parts that dealt with “information, sources, and working methods of the Intelligence Corps and

the IDF.”318 It took about a year of hard work for the Field Intelligence Department of the IDF

General Staff to edit the report and make it ready for publication. This task was completed in

January 1995, when the report was made available for scholars at the facilities of the IDF and

Israel Defense Establishment Archives (IDFA). This edition of the report omitted forty-eight pages

that dealt exclusively with intelligence affairs. Security considerations and a concern for the

privacy of IDF personnel mentioned in the report dictated that many additional details were left

out the edited report. 319 Partial as this publication was, scholars were now able to integrate parts

of the report in their studies and get a better sense of which facets of the war the Commission did

or did not investigate.320 This major step in making the Agranat Report public did not complete,

however, the saga of its publication.

In September 2006, a spokeswoman for the Ministry of Defense announced the publication

of a more comprehensive edition of the Agranat Report. This was made public in January 2007.321

The gap between the 1995 and 2007 editions is quite substantial.322 Benny Michelsohn, who

directed the IDF History Department between 1987 and 1993, notes that so much content was

omitted from the 1995 edition that it did not genuinely reflect the Agranat Commission’s view of

318
See Regulation 5611 of the 25th Israeli Government, “Commissions of Inquiry Edict” (Heter‘Iyun be-Din ve-
Heshbon shel Va’adot Hakirah), 1994.
319
The numeration of the Agranat Report as published in 1995 was the original numeration. In other words, it gave
the sense of the original scope of the report and the omissions alike. I owe this note to Col. (Res.) Benny Michelsohn,
the President of the Israeli Commission of Israeli History, who was kind enough to share with me his work about the
Agranat Report (Michelsohn, Du’ah Va’adat Agranat, ha-Pirsum la-Tsibur, July 2007. To be published).
320
One important example of that would be the outstanding study by Shmuel Gordon about the performance of the
Israeli Air Force during the war (a topic that the Agranat Commission barely touched). See Gordon, Thirty Hours in
October, 14.
321
The announcement of the Ministry of Defense spokeswoman is available online at:
[Link] (last visited on July 29, 2013).
322
Michelsohn, Du’ah Va’adat Agranat.
135
AMAN’s work. In contrast, the 2007 edition is an outstanding source regarding the work of the

Israeli Intelligence Corps on the eve of the war. This leads to the conclusion, that as more and

more parts of the final report were published, the importance of the interim report as historical

source material about the war (e.g. about the readiness of the IDF prior to the war and orders given

on the battlefield) diminished. Nevertheless, the first interim report is invaluable for understanding

the nature of Israeli historical discourse about the war.

The readership of the third report was mostly scholars, who either availed themselves of

the IDFA’s facilities or purchased a copy of the report.323 Still, much source material about the

Yom Kippur War and the Agranat Commission remained behind closed doors at the Israel State

Archives (ISA) and the IDFA. Ironically, while the Yom Kippur War is the most documented war

in the history of the State of Israel, the historical discourse about it is characterized by the lack of

primary source availability.324 A recent example of the military’s sensitivity to the topic is the

publication of Crossing by Amiram Ezov.325 The book about the crossing of the Suez Canal by

IDF troops was initiated by the IDF History Department, which commissioned the study from

Ezov more than a decade earlier. At some point, the department decided to shelf the book, with

the IDF accusing Ezov of violating his contract. The publication of the book was made possible in

2011 after the Tel Aviv District Court dismissed the IDF’s claims.326 As some observers have

323
The Agranat Report was uploaded onto the IDFA Website only in 2012:
[Link]
324
Ronen Bergman and Gil Meltzer address this topic in a book they published toward the thirtieth anniversary for
the war (The Yom Kippur War). The two have gone so far as to argue that “The IDF does not believe in the public’s
right to know,” and that the IDF History Department deliberately and unjustifiably hides information from the public
for thirty years (ibid, 20, 490). Besides being exaggerated, the claim rings false when one considers the extent of
Bergman's writings about the IDF and other arms of the Israeli security system. The content of his books and articles
strongly suggest that he maintains a close ongoing connection with the Israeli defense establishment, which seems to
provide him with an ample amount of information.
325
Amira Ezov, Crossing (Or Yehuda 2011). Like the book by Shmuel Gordon about the Air Force (Thirty Hours in
October) the book by Ezov also falls into the category of studies that engage in topics the Agranat Commission did
not touch or touched very lightly.
326
Tel-Aviv District Court 10-08-23835, The State of Israel v. Dr. Amiram Ezov (Dinim Mehozi, 140, 459, 2011).
136
noted, the case between the IDF History Department and Ezov was, in practice, not about a alleged

violation of a contract between an employer and employee, but rather about academic freedom.327

Three years after the court made its judgment, thousands of pages of protocols and

additional source material about the war and the Agranat Commission are still not available to

scholars. The Commission itself suppressed the minutes of its deliberations for a period of thirty

years.328 Nevertheless, the Commission recommended that the president of the Supreme Court

approve the publication of the minutes at the end of this period, with the exception of specific

excerpts that would continue to be confidential for national security reasons. The authority to

decide which excerpts should be published was to be given to “a special committee” assigned by

the government and approved by the Knesset.329 This recommendation was only partly approved

in 2005 and led to the fifth amendment of the Israeli Commissions of Inquiry Law, 5729-1968.330

This amendment grants the prime minister (but not the entire government) the authority to set up

the aforementioned “special committee,” which would consider the publication of the Agranat

Commission’s minutes, as well as those of additional state commissions of inquiry.

As a result of this amendment, the thirtieth government of Israel created a public committee

to address the matter of the Agranat Commission minutes. Since its inception in 2005, this

committee, spearheaded by Chairman Justice Yitzhak Engelhard, has gradually approved the

publication of about fifty testimonies, which have attracted substantial public interest.331 When the

327
Yossi Melman, “Kerav Hozer ‘al ha-Tslihah,” Haaretz, 26 May, 2011, and compare to Ronen Bergman, “Tslihah
she-Katavti,” Yediot Ahronoth, Weekend Section, 24 June, 2011.
328
Agranat, Third and Final, page 8 (of the introduction).
329
Ibid, 9.
330
Section 24b of The Israeli Commissions of Inquiry Law, 5729-1968 (548). The Knesset Committee of Constitution,
Law and Justice approved the Fifth Amendment by the end of prolonged deliberations (See Protocol 385 of January
12, 2005; Protocol 386 of January 18, 2005 and Protocol 391 of January 24, 2005). The recommendation the Agranat
Commission made to involve the President of the Supreme Court in the process of publication of minutes of state
commissions of inquiry was rejected.
331
Two additional members of the Engelhard Committee are Moshe Vardi and Ya’akov Amidror. The official decision
to set up this committee—Resolution 3317 of the 30th Government—is available online at
137
IDFA published a collection of Commission testimonies on its website in 2012 and 2013—which

included excerpts of the protocols of Prime Minister Golda Meir and tens of military officers—the

minutes of these testimonies made headlines in several newspapers and television channels.332

Some of its critics, like journalist Ronen Bergman, feel the Committee has not made enough of an

effort to give the public full access to the government’s historical records.333

Notwithstanding the slow pace of publication of key sources about the war and the

Commission, one should bear in mind that the public and scholarly debate is quite lively, to say

the least. As scholar Uri Bar-Joseph recently noted, “[T]hirty-nine years after the outbreak of the

Yom Kippur War, it is hard to find actual lacunae in historical studies about the war.” 334 In

comparison to debates in those countries on the opposing side in 1973, Israeli discourse about the

Yom Kippur War is quite open and liberal.335 The hesitation of the Israeli defense establishment

to publish primary source material related to the Agranat Commission, therefore, stands in

contradiction to a vibrant public and scholarly discourse about the war.

[Link] (last visited on July 29, 2013). The

minutes of the testimonies given before the Agranat Commission cover about 9,000 pages.
332
The process of uploading the minutes of the Agranat Commission began in 2008. Most of these protocols are
available at: [Link] (last visited on July 29, 2013).
333
Ronen Bergman, “Akhshav Nizkarim,” Yediot Ahronoth, Weekend Section, September 21, 2012, 6. As historian
Keith Wilson notes, governments, including democratic ones, most often view official records as their own private
property. As a result, they tend to postpone the publication of archival materials. See Keith Wilson, “Governments,
Historians, and ‘Historical Engineering,’” in Forging Collective Memory, ibid, ed. (Providence, RI 1996), 1-23, and
compare to Rousso, The Hunting Past, 35.
334
Uri Bar-Joseph, “Ha-Mehdal she’od lo Nehkar,” Haaretz, September 25, 2012, 20.
335
A prominent example of this matter would be the story of Lt. General Saad El-Shazly, who was the Chief-of-Staff
of the Egyptian Armed Forces during the Arab-Israeli War of October 1973. Originally published in Arabic in 1979,
the Egyptian authorities banned Shazly’s book The Crossing of the Suez on the same year (see Shazly, The Crossing
of the Suez, 329-338). Moreover, the author of the book was put on trial in absentia, while he was in exile in Algiers.
Shazly was imprisoned and began serving his sentence in solitary confinement immediately upon his return to Egypt,
fourteen years later. When the State Security High Court ordered his immediate release on August 13, 1992, its ruling
was carried out sluggishly. Ironically, while he is anything but a supporter of Israel, upon his release from prison
Shazly “publicly asked for the formation of a Supreme High Committee similar to the Agranat Committee [which had
been] formed in Israel” (ibid, 331). His call fell on deaf ears.
138
 What does the history of the publication of the Agranat Report as described here have to

do with the deep imprint the Agranat Commission left on Israeli historical memory? It seems that

the gap between the swift and full publication of the interim report, on the one hand, and the slow

and partial publication of the final report, on the other hand, intensified the importance of the

interim report in Israeli historical memory.336 The history of the Agranat Report’s publication

sharpened the breach between the history of the Yom Kippur War and its memory. While the

Commission did not intend to write a comprehensive history of the war, the Israeli public regarded

the report as an official history of the conflict. In addition, the public considered the report as a

kind of a verdict, which punished some of the figures responsible for the failures of October 1973.

In its inquiry, the Commission touched on a wide range of topics, going beyond intelligence affairs

and the Concept. As topics were buried in the censored sections, they received little attention in

the interim report. The narrative of the interim report, combined with the personnel

recommendations it includes, and the public turmoil that resulted, created a historical discourse

that put the spotlight on intelligence affairs, in general, and the Concept, in particular. Alternative

and supplementary explanations for the war, which focused on operational and diplomatic failures,

were shunted aside either because of the censorship of the third report or because they were widely

perceived as part of a tempestuous political debate (a point that will be further discussed below).

It should be noted that in spite of the Agranat Commission’s role in promoting the Concept

as the explanation for the war, it had no control over some of the components that created the

Concept’s eventual power in forming Israeli historical memory. This included, for example, the

336
This brings to mind a comment Joyce Appleby, Lynn Hunt and Margaret Jacob made in the context of narratives
and language. The three mentioned that “[t]he Dutch historian Peter Geyl commented that all history is an interim
report, but he would not have denied that within those interim reports were residues or research that would be studied
long after the interim of the report had passed.” See their book Telling the Truth About History (New York and London
1995), 265-266.
139
mandate the Commission received from the government. The Commission did, however, have full

control over other factors, such as the way it consciously and deliberately chose to read its mandate.

This point is the subject of the following section.

The Mandate of the Agranat Commission and its Reduction

The decision to establish a state commission of inquiry into the Yom Kippur War was taken by

Prime Minister Meir together with a number of senior ministers, Chief-of-Staff Elazar, and

Attorney-General Meir Shamgar.337 Shamgar suggested four possible kinds of inquiries: 1) An

inquiry by a parliamentary commission, which is a standing body manned by political figures, 2)

a military commission of inquiry under the authority of the Minister of Defense and IDF Chief, 3)

a governmental examination commission which, like a parliamentary commission, is a political

body, and 4) a state commission of inquiry, which draws its legal authority to carry out a quasi-

legal inquiry from the Israeli Commissions of Inquiry Law, 5729-1968.

Not much is known about the deliberations and considerations involved in the decision to

establish the Agranat commission. What is certain is that IDF Chief Elazar insisted that the army

examine itself before any kind of juridical inquiry take place by a non-military apparatus.338 The

preference of Minister of Defense Moshe Dayan is not entirely clear. According to his aide-de-

camp, Arie Braun, Dayan supported the idea of setting up a commission of inquiry. That said, he

believed that the decision about what kind of commission it was—juridical, public, or military—

should be left to the Attorney-General.339 Five days after the Agranat commission had been setup,

and when the identities of its members were known, Dayan expressed total confidence in the

337
Arie Braun, Moshe Dayan and the Yom Kippur War (Tel-Aviv 1992), 321-325.
338
Ibid, 318-322 and compare to Hanoch Bartov, Daddo—48 Years and 20 More Days (Tel-Aviv 1978), 8, 355.
339
Braun, Moshe Dayan and the Yom Kippur War, 318.
140
Commission’s work.340 He announced that he would accept any decision the Commission reached.

In his autobiography, however, Dayan notes that the Yom Kippur War was not a matter for

juridical clarification, but rather an event from which political lessons should be drawn.341

The final decision to establish a state commission of inquiry was taken by Prime Minister

Meir. The Commission’s mandate, which was approved by the government on November 18,

1973, was to inquire into the following:

1. The information [available] during the days that preceded the Yom Kippur War

pertaining to the moves of the enemy and its intentions to launch a war, as well as the

assessments and decisions of the authorized military and civilian bodies based on this

information;

2. The IDF’s readiness for war in general, it alertness during the days preceding the Yom

Kippur War, and its operations until the halting of the enemy [advance].342

While the mandate does not set clear chronological boundaries for the inquiry, it does focus

the Commission on two “periods” which are: 1) the days preceding the war, and 2) the difficult

phase of the battles to hold the defense lines, which took place at the beginning of the war.

Chronologically, then, the Commission was not required to investigate the Yom Kippur War in its

entirety. As a quasi-juridical body, it was expected to follow its mandate, without broadening the

scope to include further issues.343 Meticulous adherence to its mandate made it difficult, if not

340
Ibid, 339.
341
Moshe Dayan, Moshe Dayan: Story of My Life (Jerusalem 1976), 687. The way Dayan addressed the Agranat
Commission in his manuscripts is by definition apologetic. One major feature of his attitude is his attempt to put the
responsibility for the war on IDF chief Elazar and other individuals, such as American state officials, who according
to Dayan refused to sell Israel different kinds of weapons (Davar, October 19, 1973, 2), and Israeli citizens and troops,
which according to Dayan were too weak to cope with the challenges posed by the war. Moshe Dayan, “Sar ha-
Bitahon Moshe Dayan ‘al Milhemen Yom-ha-Kippurim,” in Tsahal be-Helo, eds., Ilan Kfir and Ya’akov Erez
(Revivim Revivim 1984), Vol. 2, 116-119.
342
Agranat, 1975, 10. I borrowed the translation of this excerpt from Shalev, Israel’s Intelligence Assessment Before
the Yom Kippur War, x.
343
Klagsbald, Tribunals of Inquiry, 91.
141
impossible, for the Commission to depict a balanced narrative of IDF failures and

accomplishments. After all, successes took place in later phases of the campaign, when the IDF

was able to shift from a defensive to an offensive posture. Nevertheless, it seems that the

Commission reduced the scope of its inquiry by consciously and deliberately narrowing its

mandate even further.

According to the Commission’s interim report, the northern-front defensive battles ended

on October 9 and, in the south, on October 14.344 Nevertheless, the Commission chose only to

inquire into the first three days of the war (October 6-8). The Commission justified this decision

by arguing that it was not set up to “write the history of the defensive battles,” adding that had it

indeed been assigned this task, it would surely have had to study the war for years.345 In this sense,

the Agranat Commission did not see itself as a “historical commission,” that is, it abstained from

studying the period that preceded Elazar’s appointment as IDF chief in January 1, 1972. 346 As a

matter of fact, shortly after the Commission issued its final report, Elazar complained to Prime

Minister Yitzhak Rabin that the Commission did not rigorously follow its mandate, and did not

inquire into the IDF’s general readiness for war. In a memorandum he submitted to the prime

minister in May 1975, Elazar posited that had the Commission addressed this topic, it would have

been evident that the IDF did prove itself in this respect.347 Elazar’s assertion is not completely

accurate, since the final Agranat Report does touch on a whole range of topics related to the IDF’s

344
Agranat, 1975, 75-76.
345
Ibid, 76. Justice Agranat also made this point in an interview he had given to journalist Dov Atsmon before he
retired from the Supreme Court, “Ha-Shofet Agranat: Ze Hayah Tafkid Kashe,” Yediot Ahronoth, Weekend Section,
September 3, 1976, 4-5. In an interview I held with Prof. Yoav Gelber, who was a scientific assistant to the
Commission, he mentioned that the Commission sought to complete its work quickly. Interview, Interdisciplinary
Center, Herzliya, Israel, July 4, 2012.
346
Yoav Gelber, History, Memory and Propaganda (Tel-Aviv 2008), 50. Major-General Elazar began serving as IDF
Chief on January 1, 1972. He was replaced by Major-General Mordechai (Mota) Gur in April 1974.
347
Israel State Archives (hereafter, ISA) A-1/108, 18, 23.
142
readiness for war, such as the maintenance of the reserve units and field security. However, by

ignoring some topics that easily fell under its mandate, such as decisions of “civilian bodies,” and

the fighting that took place between October 9 and October 14, the Commission did not comply

with its mandate to the fullest.

The Commission’s mandate and the way it chose to interpret it provide a new perspective

on two other factors that intensified the impact the Commission left on Israeli historical memory.

First, the Commission focused on the most difficult phase of the war, which overwhelmed any

other aspect of it.348 In other words, the gloomy tone of the Agranat Report affirmed for millions

of Israeli citizens what was obvious to them from the beginning: the late warning regarding the

possibility of war caused the IDF to commence the conflict from a position of inferiority. Against

this background, it is easier to understand how the conclusions the Commission reached about

AMAN—as opposed to the personal recommendations it made or did not make—were widely

accepted by laymen and scholars alike. After all, AMAN did not see the war coming. Furthermore,

the special attention the Commission paid to intelligence affairs caused it to diminish the

importance of other topics such as tactical, operational, and political aspects of the war. Such an

account was not inevitable, but rather the direct result of the Commission’s interpretation of its

mandate, as well its desire to complete the inquiry quickly.

Not surprisingly, the criticism of the Commission was also directed at its mandate.

Professor Yoav Gelber, a scientific assistant to the Agranat commission, called the mandate a

“historical lie.” “The mandate,” he explained to me, “required the Commission to inquire into what

was self-evident: the surprise, the basic unpreparedness [of the IDF], and the failures in the fighting

as a result of these factors, which were impossible to hide. Reducing the mandate to these issues

348
Oren, Toldot Milhemet Yom Ha-Kippurim, 352.
143
alone indirectly implied that everything else was fine and required no probing, and that’s what I

call a “historical lie.” A great deal of the mishaps, blunders and failures were actually related to

later phases of the fighting.”349 Researchers Ronen Bergman and Gil Meltzer also criticized the

Commission’s mandate and the way its members chose to interpret it. The two regretted that the

commissioners did not dare to go beyond the mandate “even when the public and moral interest

was to widen slightly the perspective.”350 While there may indeed some truth in these words, one

should bear in mind that a state commission of inquiry, in its capacity as a quasi-juridical body, is

not allowed to broaden its mandate of its own accord. Conversely, one might question the

government, which appointed the Commission but did not dismiss the possibility of investigating

the actions of civilian bodies. Years after the Commission has been dissolved former Foreign

Minister Abba Eban criticized the government by calling the Commission’s mandate absurd:

The Agranat Commission was directed to examine the unpreparedness and failure of the

first phase of the war. There was something wantonly masochistic about this definition.

Here was a war that had begun in failure and that had ended in triumph, and yet the

government, which had shared both the failure and the triumph, decided to investigate the

former and not the latter.351

The Agranat Commission was well aware of the military triumphs, and addressed the topic in its

report. The special attention it paid to the mistakes, failures, and weaknesses of the IDF was set

against the background of “the IDF’s decisive achievement.” The focus on the IDF’s wrongdoings

349
Interview with Prof. Yoav Gelber (July 4, 2012, Interdisciplinary Center, Herzliya, Israel) and e-mail
correspondence (September 3, 2012, and October 28, 2012). Also see Yoav Gelber, “Madu’a Milhement Yom ha-
Kippurim Mamshikhah Lihiyot Petsa she-Eno Maglid,” Haaretz, Book Section, October 9, 2013.
350
Bergman and Meltzer, The Yom Kippur War—Moment of Truth, 467.
351
Abba Eban, Personal Witness (New York 1992), 555. Eban raised harsh criticism against the Agranat Commission
also in his autobiography, which was published in 1977. See Eban, Autobiography (New York 1977), 568-569.
144
was, commissioners claimed, solely for the purpose of learning lessons for the future. 352 The

Commission added in a somewhat flowery manner, that in writing its report, it was following in

the footsteps of Winston Churchill, who authored his monumental book on World War II even

though writing caused him pain.353 As legal scholar Pnina Lahav points out in the biography she

authored about Chief Justice Agranat, paying tribute to Israeli troops who died on the battlefield

was the commissioners’ way of expressing their solidarity with the State of Israel and its military

establishment.354 Nevertheless, the words of praise and encouragement at the beginning of the

Agranat Commission report are just a small fraction of a dense account, which is full of criticism

and scrutiny. By briefly addressing the heroism of Israeli troops, the Commission affirmed what

later became an acknowledged idea: unlike the Six Day War, which was championed by high-

ranking officers, the protagonists of the Yom Kippur War were low to mid-ranking officers and

fighters.355

352
Agranat, 1975, 17, 56, 67. Also see Agranat, Third and Final, 5 (of the introduction).
353
Agranat, 1975, 94 and compare to Winston Churchill, The Second World War, Vol. I (Cambridge MA 1948), iv.
Churchill’s Magnus Opus on World War II was regarded for years as a quasi-official British history of the war. In this
respect, both Churchill’s history and the Agranat Report have left a substantial impact on the historical memories of
their respective countries. For more see David Reynolds, In Command of History: Churchill Fighting and Writing the
Second World War (London 2005).
354
Pnina Lahav, Judgment in Jerusalem: Chief Justice Simon Agranat and the Zionist Century (Berkeley, Los Angeles,
and London 1997), 236. Regarding Haim Laskov’s loyalty and solidarity with the Israeli military system see the word
of Ya’akov Hisadai in Laskov, Mordechai Naor (Tel-Aviv 1989), 343. In an interview I held with Dr. Yaakov Hisdai
in Jerusalem on October 29, 2012, Hisdai mentioned that “[T]he Commission had an interest not to undermine the
public trust in the [Israeli political] leadership and IDF.”
355
Many of the stories by fighters, officers and reservists make the point that “not everything was a failure [during the
war],” as Avigdor Kahalani puts it in his book The Heights of Courage: A Tank’s Leader War on the Golan, (Jerusalem
and Tel-Aviv 1977), 9. Moreover, many accounts about the war stress the resourcefulness of low to mid-ranking
fighters and officers. See for example Ori Orr, These are My Brothers (Tel-Aviv 2003); Ilan Kfir, The Suez Canal
Heroes: The Southern Front, October1973 (Tel-Aviv 2003), and Zvika Greengold, Zvika Force (Ben-Shemen 2008).
Historian Amiram Ezov rightly argues that the biggest winner of the war was General Ariel Sharon, who used his
reputation on the battle field to embark upon a political career (Ezov, Crossing, 279 and compare to Kfir, The Suez
Canal Heroes, 12). Nevertheless, whether he liked it or not, it goes without saying that Sharon was deeply involved
in “the General Wars,” that characterized the Yom Kippur War (i.e. harsh disagreements between Israeli generals).
These “General Wars” constitute one more example of the dominancy and resourcefulness of low to mid-ranking
fighters and officers during the war.
145
 As soon as the war had ended, Israeli political leaders and generals stressed that as

challenging as it was, the war ended with a glorious Israeli military triumph.356 In light of the shock

and pain that swept Israel in the immediate wake of the war, such pronouncements made little

difference to the public.357 Effective as the IDF performance in battle might have been, Israeli

citizens tended to see the dark side of the war. Beginning April 1974, this view was backed by the

Agranat Report, which gave the impression that the war was indeed a military fiasco. Whether the

Agranat Commission had, or did not have, the potential to change this gloomy public atmosphere,

it did not demonstrate this potential, which remained untapped. The question whether a state

commission of inquiry should exercise this potential exceeds the scope of this chapter.

Nevertheless, the Agranat Commission made a tremendous impact on Israeli collective memory,

356
Many Hebrew accounts of the Yom Kippur War present it as a glorious military triumph. See for example the
introduction to Days of Awe: Commentaries on the Yom-Kippur War by Chaim Herzog (Tel-Aviv 1973); the interview
General (Res.) Ezer Weizman gave to the daily newspaper Ma’ariv on November 2, 1973; the order of the day by
General Ariel Sharon of January 1, 1974, available in Uri Dan, Sharon’s Bridgehead (Tel-Aviv 1975), 208; Golda
Meir, My Life (Tel-Aviv 1975), 305 and compare to the English edition of the book (London 1975), 420; Ephraim
Talmi, Who is Who in the Wars of Israel (Tel-Aviv 1975), Vol. II, 538; Dayan, Moshe Dayan: Story of My Life, 685,
and Avraham (Bren) Adan, On Both Banks of the Suez: An Israeli General’s Personal Account of the Yom Kippur
War (Jerusalem 1979), 13. Not surprisingly, IDF propaganda also stresses that the Yom Kippur War ended with an
unequivocal Israeli triumph. See IDFA, 88-928/2005, 3 and 21. The cluster of sources included in this footnote
indicates that Hebrew accounts about the war that present it as an Israeli failure are exceptional. See for example Uri
Milstein, The Outbreak of the War (Tel-Aviv 1992), 41; Emanuel Wald, The Wald Report: The Decline of Israeli
National Security Since 1967 (San Francisco, and Oxford 1992), 94-112 (Wald’s book was originally published in
Hebrew). A much more balanced account about the war was written by Amos Yadlin, “She’elot be’Ikvot ha-
Milhamah,” in The Yom Kippur War and its Lessons, ed., Pinhas Yehezkeli (Tel-Aviv 2005), 9-10, 14.
357
A possible explanation for the question of why the Yom Kippur War was not mythologized in Israeli collective
memory is available in the piece by Charles S. Liebman, “The Myth of Defeat: The Yom Kippur War in Israeli
Society,” Middle Eastern Studies 29:3 (1993): 399-418. Also see Tirza Hechter, The Yom Kippur War: Trauma,
Memory and Myth (1972-2013) (San Bernardino 2014). About “glorious failures” like the siege of Masada, the Bar-
Kokhba Revolt and the battle of Tel-Hai which did become national Jewish myths, see Yael Zerubavel, Recovered
Roots: Collective Memory and the Making of Israeli National Tradition (Chicago and London 1995) and Idith Zertal,
Israel's Holocaust and the Politics of Nationhood (Cambridge 2005), especially pages 9-51. More about the topic in
the context of the Jewish “Gallows Martyrs” who were executed by the British authorities in Mandatory Palestine, is
available in Amir Goldstein, Heroism and Exclusion: The “Gallows Martyrs” and Israeli Collective Memory (Tel-
Aviv and Jerusalem 2011), 143-144. Interestingly enough, unlike most Israeli Jews who have experienced the war as
a national calamity, the national religious group of Gush Emunim addressed it as a source of national pride and
comfort. For more see the piece by Michael Feige, “Milhemet Yom ha-Kippurim ba-Zikaron ha-Yisraeli: Shever mul
Hemshehiyut,” in National Trauma, eds., Moshe Shemesh and Ze’ev Drori (Sede Boker 2008), 351-367. The piece
by Feige should be read in conjunction with the landmark article by Salo W. Baron, “Ghetto and Emancipation,”
Menorah 14:6 (1928): 515-526.
146
which is in itself a highly important national resource. This shows the work of the Commission to

have been a major crossroads, one at which a choice was made about how to shape the national

memory of the war.

So far we have examined the dynamic that led to the creation of the Concept in the context

of the Yom Kippur War. We also looked at the major factors and circumstances enabling the

Commission’s interim report to deeply shape Israeli historical memory. Now we shall turn our

attention to how this phenomenon affected the historiography about the war.

Historiography in the Shadow of the Concept

Much public and scholarly attention has been paid in recent decades to the long-term impact that

the Yom Kippur War left in a variety of fields of Israeli experience (e.g. politics, culture,

economics). Special attention has been paid to the circumstances that led to war. According to a

widely acknowledged notion, “any [Israeli] achievement in the war is clouded by the initial failure

of not preventing it. The failure was exacerbated, not just because the Israeli deterrent capacity

was disappointing, but also because the warning provided by the Israeli intelligence came too late”

(emphasis in the original).358 Put differently, the positive achievements of the IDF on the battlefield

in October 1973, are perceived in Israel as minor compared to the negative effects of surprise and

shock that overcame the IDF, the Israeli leadership, and the public. The fact that the IDF was able

to move from a defensive to an offensive posture within enemy territory rather quickly, that Israel

did not lose territory in the Golan Heights, and that some Israeli ground forces ended the war

beyond enemy lines, to this day stands in the shadow of the initial shock of attack. Given this

background, it is not surprising that much scholarly attention has been paid to the Yom Kippur

358
Oren (note 344 above). Emphasis in the original.
147
surprise. As Air Force veteran and scholar Shmuel Gordon noted in 2008, the ongoing historical

debate about the disastrous effect that the short warning had, on the one hand, and the effect of

other operational failures on the other, was as lively as ever.359 In 2014, this assertion is still valid.

The question as to what factor set the tone for the entire campaign remains open to this day, and

prompts a variety of explanations that can be divided into four conceptual categories.360

According to the first and most common explanation for the war, the mother of all sins of

the Yom Kippur War was indeed the intelligence failure that preceded the campaign. The late

warning Israel received severely damaged the morale of Israeli soldiers and the IDF’s ability to

fight effectively. The defensive battles that took place during the first phase of the war were the

direct result of inadequate intelligence concerning the enemy’s intention to start a comprehensive

war. This approach, which received considerable attention in the Agranat interim report,

diminishes and even exempts from responsibility anyone who did not play an active role in forging

the national intelligence assessment.361

The second explanation for the war stresses the socio-political climate that prevailed in

Israel between the 1967 Six Day War and the outbreak of the Yom Kippur War in October 1973.

The euphoria and sense of invincibility that swept Israeli society and leadership following the

triumph of June 1967 created the illusion that the IDF could easily ward off any threat by Arab

359
Gordon, Thirty Hours in October, 179.
360
The division into four different kinds of key explanation for the war does not contradict the fact that some studies,
including the ones mentioned below, amalgamate features of different scholarly approaches. An example for that
would be Gordon’s study, as the author mentions on page 433.
361
See, for example Agranat, 1975, 18, 78; Oren, The History of the Yom Kippur War, 64, 352; Aharon Ze’evi,
“Tokhnit ha-Hona’ah ha-Mitsrit,” in Intelligence and National Security, eds., Offer and Kober, 437. Also relevant
here is Ya’akov Hisdai, Truth in the Shadow of War (Tel-Aviv 1979), 10. It goes without saying that the interim report
was not only about the intelligence failure and the Concept. Among other things, it also elaborated on the late
recruitment of reservists, the ineffective deployment of tank corps along the Suez Canal, and the over-reliance on
regular forces.
148
forces. This self-perception was clearly unfounded.362 Hence, the panic that followed the Yom

Kippur War stemmed from the gap between the vulnerability of this war and the swift, decisive,

and victorious Six Day War.

The third explanation for the Yom Kippur War pinpoints the lack of preparedness by the

IDF for a comprehensive campaign. More specifically, this explanation highlights operational

failures, false operative notions that Israeli generals followed during the war, and bitter

disagreements among them that made it impossible for Israeli forces to realize their fighting

capacity effectively on the battle field.363 An example of this approach are studies such as “The

Regulars will Hold”? by Emanuel Sakal364 or the memoire by Air Force veteran Iftach Spector,

who declares sharply: “We did not prepare properly, and no theory about a ‘surprise’ or ‘confusion’

could cover this up.”365 One might add additional operational factors such as the greater number

of Arab troops, which was far higher than the Israeli deployment, the delayed mobilization of the

Israeli reserve forces (which constitute a central component of the Israeli military doctrine), and

an ineffective response by the Israeli Air Force.366 Some of the bloodiest battles in the war, such

as those in the “Chinese Farm,” the city of Suez and Mt. Hermon outpost, took place late in the

war, and not at its outset. Such battles strengthen the impression that the war was marked by errors

and operational failures that go beyond the lack of initial adequate intelligence.

The fourth approach, which in recent years has received more and more scholarly attention,

draws attention to political factors related to the war. According to this line of reasoning, the

362
Benjamin Peled, Days of Reckoning (Ben-Shemen 2004), 447-448 and compare to Dalia Gavriely-Nuri, Nikmat
ha-Nitsahon: Ha-Tarbut ha-Yisraelit ba-Derekh le-Milhemet Yom ha-Kippurim (New York 2014).
363
Wald, The Wald Report.
364
Emanuel Sakal, “The Regulars will Hold?”: The Missed Opportunity to Prevail in the Defensive Campaign in
Western Sinai in the Yom Kippur War (Tel-Aviv 2011).
365
Iftach Spector, Loud and Clear (Tel-Aviv 2008), 247.
366
According to General (Res.) Israel Tal, the original sin of the war was the late recruitment of the Israeli reserve
forces. See his book, National Security: The Few against the Many (Tel-Aviv 1996), 171-172, 179.
149
intelligence and operational blunders were preceded by diplomatic failure, which prevented Israel

from properly preparing for war. This historical reading puts most of the responsibility for the war

at the doorstep of political leaders and diplomats, and not on the military. Like the first three

explanations for the war, this approach is also polyphonic by nature. While scholar Yigal Kipnis,

for example, points to the so-called inability of Prime Minister Golda Meir and Minister of Defense

Moshe Dayan to come to terms with Egypt, Boaz Vanetik and Zaki Shalom emphasize the

incapacity of the Nixon administration to promote peace in the Middle East.367

The question as to which of these explanations is true, or more correct, remains open. It is

not at all clear whether one can compare the scale of the intelligence failure to the effect that the

operational errors and political incapacity had in 1973.368 Having said that, it is obvious that the

attention given to military intelligence and the Concept by the Agranat Commission was, and

remains, the most common Israeli perception of the Yom Kippur War. As one high-ranking

AMAN officer put it in the early 1980s, “According to a widespread notion accepted by the Israeli

public, and even by the IDF, the reason for the surprise was the Concept, which AMAN seemingly

created: it is unlikely that a war would break out as long as Egypt did not acquire aerial

superiority.”369 Political scientist Yitzhak Galnoor made a similar point some twenty years later,

on the thirtieth anniversary of the war. Galnoor asserted that the Israeli discourse about the war

still engaged in self-evident issues, such as the national and personal trauma caused by the war and

367
Yigal Kipnis, 1973, The Way to War (Or Yehudah 2012) and compare to Boaz Vanetik and Zaki Shalom, The Yom
Kippur War: The War that could have been Prevented (Tel-Aviv 2012).
368
One attempt to evaluate the relative impact intelligence affairs had had on the war, in comparison to other factors
(e.g. operational and political ones) is the recently published article by Uri Bar-Joseph, “The Historiography about the
Yom Kippur War: A Forty Years’ Perspective and a New Discussion,” Iyunim 23 (2013): 1-33. By offering quite a
different reading than the one presented in this chapter, Bar-Joseph argues that the Agranat Report withstood the test
of time.
369
Ben-Porat, “Ha-‘Arkhot Modi’in,” in Intelligence and National Security, eds., Ofer and Kover, 225. Other scholars
made this point in different contexts. See for example Yigal Shefi, “Ma’aneh le-Torpah Astrategit,” in Yom Kippur
War Studies, eds., Haggai Golan and Shaul Shai (Tel-Aviv 2003), 165.
150
the intelligence failure.370 It seems that in this respect, not much has changed in Israel since the

1970s.

Almost four decades after the Agranat Commission issued its interim report, Israeli

historical discourse about the war is still beholden to the Concept that the Commission introduced

to the Israeli public in 1974.371 This explains why the Concept receives extensive attention by

scholars and war veterans who try to diminish its importance by offering alternative and

supplementary explanations for the war. They simply cannot ignore it. According to General

(Res.) Giora Romm, “the fundamental failure in the Yom Kippur War was not the intelligence

failure, but rather a geo-political one.”372 Yoav Gelber stresses that “[t]he intelligence and

operational fiasco at the beginning of October 1973 was not the result of a conception, but the

outcome of serial mistakes in estimating the evolving circumstances without anything behind them

except hubris. These errors emanated from a total loss of sight at the top of the Israeli military

hierarchy.”373 Neeman and Arbel also maintain that the truth about the Yom Kippur War is “totally

different” from the conventional wisdom of the Concept. According to their reading, the Israeli

leadership was well aware of the political developments that led to the war, but simply reacted

370
Yitzhak Galnoor, “Ha-Konseptsiyah she-Me’ahorei ha-Konseptsiyah,” in National Trauma, eds., Shemesh and
Drori, 9.
371
In recent months some scholars and journalist put forward an additional aspect of the intelligence failure, which
focuses on the activation or lack thereof of “special intelligence means.” Almost any detail related to these means,
which were most likely a tapping device, including their real name, is still classified. About the topic, see, for example,
Uri Bar-Joseph, “Hi Haf’alat “Emtsa’e ha-Isuf ha-Meyuhadim” veha-Keshel ha-Modi’inin be-Milhemet Yom ha-
Kippurim—Mabat Hadash,” Ma’arakhot 448 (2013): 46-53. According to Bar-Joseph, “For various reasons, [most]
scholars who have studied the [Yom Kippur] surprise . . . did not pay this topic the appropriate attention [it deserves],”
ibid, 48. Without getting into the question what is the “appropriate attention” this topic deserves, the current chapter
sheds light on some of the factors and circumstances that pushed the topic aside for many years. One of the main
arguments Bar-Joseph tries to make is that according to the Agranat Commission, the key for understanding the
intelligence failure was related to these “special means” and not to the Concept. This assertion stands in total
contradiction to the fact the Commission presented these means as “AMAN’s secondary insurance.” See Uri Bar-
Joseph, “Ha-Mafte’h le-Kishalon ha-Modi’ini,” Haaretz, July 14, 2013, and compare to Agranat, Reasoning and
Completion, 83, 99-100.
372
Quoted in David Arbel and Uri Neeman, Unforgivable Delusion (Tel-Aviv 2005), 7 and passim.
373
Gelber, The Collapse of the Israeli Intelligence’s Conception, 24.
151
poorly to them.374 In his book Breaking the Concept, Daniel Asher argues that, instead of focusing

on the Concept, one should pay heed to the Egyptian war goals.375 Zvi Lanier also challenges the

political, juridical, and scholarly belief in the Concept by scrutinizing the strategic and political

conventions to which the Israeli leadership adhered on the eve of war.376

This cluster of books is only a partial list. One could easily add to it further accounts,

apologetic by nature, whose authors try to dismiss or at least diminish their personal responsibility

for the events of October 1973. A notable example of this historical genre is Eli Zeira’s The

October 73 War: Myth Against Reality.377 Published in 1993 as a direct reply to the Agranat

Report, the book is a historiographical assault against the Commission. Zeira presents the

Commission as a politically biased tribunal, which violated not only his legal rights but also the

basic principles of Israeli democracy.378 The book’s main point is that the Commission distorted

the history of the Yom Kippur War and created a national myth, according to which AMAN and

Zeira hold most of the responsibility for the 1973 disaster. Alternatively, Zeira strives to convince

his readership that the war was the result of a misjudgment and a long list of errors on the part of

the Israeli political leadership, especially Prime Minster Meir and Minister of Defense Moshe

Dayan. According to Zeira, on the eve of the war, Meir, Dayan, and a small group of their close

374
Uri Neeman and David Arbel, Border Lines Choices (Tel-Aviv 2011), 78.
375
Asher, Breaking the Concept.
376
Zvi Lanir, Fundamental Surprise (Tel-Aviv 1983), 15, 40 and passim.
377
Zeira, The October 73 War. While Zeira harshly criticized the Agranat Commission on many levels, he never set
against its decision to terminate his tenure as IDM. Zeira voluntarily chose to retire from the IDF shortly after the
Yom Kippur War, although Minister of Defense, Moshe Dayan, offered him the position of IDF commander of Central
Command. Moreover, in spite of harsh disagreements between Eli Zeira and former Mossad director, Zvi Zamir,
regarding the role of the Egyptian Ashraf Marwan in the Yom Kippur surprise—an involvement that seemingly put
some of the responsibility for the intelligence failure on the shoulders of Zamir and the Mossad—Zeira insists that he
and AMAN should have known that Marwan was a double agent who misled Israel (Zeira, Myth versus Reality, 2004
ed., 163). In so doing, Zeira takes responsibility for an additional failure for which he is seemingly responsible. This
should, however, be qualified, since the assertion according to that Marwan was indeed a double-agent is questionable.
About Marwan see Uri Bar-Joseph, The Angel, Ashraf Marwan, the Mossad and the Yom Kippur War (Or Yehudah
2010).
378
Zeira, The October 73 War, 179, 192, 204.
152
advisors acted irresponsibly by ignoring Israel’s guiding military doctrine.379 Irresponsible

strategic decisions included postponing the mobilization of Israeli reserve forces until the very last

minute. Contrary to the idea of the Concept as an intelligence theory created by AMAN’s Research

Department, Zeira insists that the Concept is actually an Egyptian geo-political initiative,

constructed by the Egyptian President, Anwar El-Sadat.380 This assertion eventually made its way

also into other works, including the history by Aryeh Shalev.381

Thus far we have seen that although the Concept became an integral part of the Israeli

discourse about the Yom Kippur War, there was never a consensus about the central role the

Commission attributed to the Concept. The special attention the Commission paid to intelligence

affairs and the Concept—acknowledged by Chief Justice Agranat in an interview he gave in

1976382—was rejected by scholars who studied the war and people like Eli Zeira, whom the

Commission harshly scrutinized. Moreover, because of the dominance of the Concept in Israeli

memory, scholars who suggested alternative explanations for the war still had to contend with the

Concept and the Agranat Report.

One prominent example of this phenomenon is the book 1973: The Way to War that was

published in 2012. Largely based on recently released archival material from Israel and the United

States, the book sheds new light on the political deliberations that Israeli officials held prior to the

war among themselves and with American diplomats. The enthusiastic reaction the book received

379
Ibid, 11, 31, 54-55, 211. Like Zeira, General (Res.) Matityahu Peled, argues that following the Six Day War Israel
ignored fundamental principles of its military doctrine. See, Peled, “Ketsad Hitkonenah Israel le-Milhemet Yom ha-
Kippurim ve-Ketsad Nihalah Otah”, in The Big Powers and the October 1973 War, ed., Gabriel Sheffer (Jerusalem
1975), 29-41.
380
Zeira, The October 73 War, 86, 173, 240.
381
See Shalev, Israel’s Intelligence Assessment and the talk by Mordechai Gazit (former Director-General of the prime
minister’s office in 1973), “Ha-Im Efshar Hayah Limno’a et ha-Milhamah,” in The Yom Kippur War, eds., Ufaz and
Bar-Siman-Tov, 11, 16.
382
Atsmon (see note 345 above).
153
in some Israeli media upon its publication, made it seem for a moment that the Concept was going

to be shunted aside for the political explanation of the war—an aspect that seemingly received no

attention earlier. It is worthwhile quoting from Kipnis’ main argument:

The failure of the ‘intelligence concept . . . is important, but it almost did not affect the

decision-making [process, prior to the war] . . . . The [new] documents [published in this

book] indicate that as opposed to the acknowledged notion, the intelligence failure did not

lead to the war. It is not the fault of the intelligence [corps] that the State of Israel . . . got

itself into the unfortunate situation of the Yom Kippur War without being able to control

the events. Chaired by Chief Justice Agranat the Commission of inquiry chaired looked

into the responsibility of the military system for the devastating results of the war.

However, the political source material was not available for the Commission, and therefore,

its ability to undertake a comprehensive inquiry even into the intelligence and military

events was limited, at least insofar as the ones that require a perspective that fuses a military

and political reading. All the more so, the Commission was unable to look into and draw

conclusions about the proceedings of the political system, and was also unable to properly

evaluate the division of responsibility between the military and political players.383

Upon its publication, Kipnis’ book received much public attention and rightly so. A number

of well-known journalists went as far as to argue that this study opens up a totally new scholarly

terrain.384 It is unquestionable that the book includes many instructive details about the back

383
Kipnis, 1973, 15-16. In his book The October 73 War, Eli Zeira argues that Prime Minister Golda Meir and Minister
of Defense Moshe Dayan did not update the Agranat Commission about a secret meeting Meir held with King Hussein
of Jordan on September 25, 1973. See Zeira, The October 73 War, 97, and compare to the interview journalist Sarit
Fuchs held with Supreme Justice Agranat, “Agranat Me’ahore ha-Du’ah,” Ma’ariv, Weekend Section, October 11,
1991, 6. Details included in the book by Zvi Zamir indicate that Meir actually did update Agranat about the meeting.
See Zamir, With Open Eyes, 127-128.
384
See, for example, Ronen Bergman, “Kim’at ve-Shahakhti, Shalom,” Yediot Ahronoth, Weekend Section, September
14, 2012, 28-34; Haaretz Editorial, “She’elot be’Ikvot Agranat,” Haaretz, September 23, 2012, 2, and Akiva Eldar,
154
channels of Middle Eastern diplomacy in 1973. Nevertheless, Kipnis did not discover the “political

failure” forty years after the war.385 The accusation of political failure that was worse than the

military one, was first raised prior to the establishment of the Agranat Commission, and, again,

following the publication of the first interim report.386 This historical reading lost its vitality in

the 1970s partly because of the wide acceptance of the Concept in Israeli memory. The public

debate about the war in the period that preceded the interim report in April 1974, therefore

indicates how strong an impact the Agranat Commission made on Israeli historical memory.

Alternative Readings to the War (November 1973-May 1974)

During the general elections for the eighth Knesset, which were postponed from October 31 to

December 31, 1973, the leader of the opposition, Menachem Begin, directed his criticism of the

war not toward the IDF and its chiefs but the government of Golda Meir. In a speech Begin gave

“Bikoret Gevulot,” Haaretz, October 2, 2012, 2. Other critics of Kipnis’ book were less enthusiastic and even negative.
See, for example, Yagil Levy, “Miksam ha-Shav shel ha-Arkhiyonim,” Haaretz, October 10, 2012, 2; Uri Bar-Joseph,
“Historiyah Selektivit,” Haaretz, Book Section, October 17, 2012, 2; Zvi Zamir, “Shimush Helki bi-Devari,” Haaretz,
Book Section, October 24, 2012, 3, and Yossi Langotzky, “Ha-Emet ‘al ha-Emtsa’im ha-Meyudim, Haaretz,
November 11, 2012, 15. Kipnis replied on Bar-Joseph’s piece in a sharp column of his own. See Kipnis, “Ovrim
Likhtivah Mevuseset,” Haaretz, Book Section, October 24, 2012, 2.
385
The notion that there was a “political failure,” which led to the Yom Kippur War, as Kipnis argues, is open for
interpretation. Interestingly enough, Orientalist Yehoshafat Harkabi and historian Avi Shlaim criticize the Israeli
intelligence for failing to see that Egypt was trying to reach out to Israel and make peace with it. See Avi Shlaim, The
Iron Wall: Israel and the Arab World (London and New York 2000), 107-108. Zaki Shalom dismisses this reading
outright. According to Shalom, in the post-Six Day War period Israel did seek peace with its Arab neighbors. They,
and especially Egypt, were unready for that. See Zaki Shalom, “Milhemet Yom ha-Kippurim: Konseptsiyot Sheguyot
ve-Shivran,” in National Trauma, eds., Shemesh and Drori, 284, and compare to Vanetik and Shalom, The Yom Kippur
War, 263.
386
Ironically, almost every aspect related to the Agranat Commission but the Concept has been extremely controversial
since April 1974; for example, the Commission’s mandate, its human makeup, the methodology it applied, and the
recommendations it did or did not make against high-ranking state officials. Most controversial has been the decision
of the Agranat Commission to come to terms with army personnel, on the one hand, but to exempt the political echelon
from any responsibility for the war, on the other hand. According to some observers, this separation resulted in an
imbalanced report (Yediot Ahronoth, April 4, 1974, 3). The Commission was well aware of the criticism against it,
and addressed the topic in the introduction to its third and final report (Agranat, 1975, 60-61). One should add that not
everyone condemned the Commission as in the case of the Jerusalem Post, which praised the “fair and perfectly
balanced” report the Commission issued (quoted in Yediot Ahronoth, April 3, 1974, 8), and compare to The Knesset,
Protocols of the Knesset 70 (Jerusalem), April 11, 1974, 1135, 1153.
155
in the Knesset while the fighting was ongoing, he insisted on waiting to address the questions

raised by the war “only after the victory.”387 A week later, however, Begin and his party, the Likud,

sounded more aggressive. The party issued a public announcement as follows:

The Likud has determined that between Rosh Ha-Shanah and Yom Kippur [September

27—October 6, 1973] the government made a grave mistake. While it had credible

information about the concentration of enemy forces in the south and in the north, it did

not mobilize its [reserve] forces and did not deploy them in due course along the cease fire

lines [the borders] to deter the enemy from its anticipated aggression.388

If at all, the Israeli intelligence is mentioned in this announcement positively, for delivering

valuable information about the enemy to the government.

In the following days, increasing demands to undertake a comprehensive examination of

the war were raised by people on both sides of the political spectrum. In one pointed op-ed in the

daily newspaper Davar,389 its editor-in-chief, Hannah Zemer, called for an examination “of issues

related to the eve of the war, in addition to matters that noticeably preceded the outbreak of the

war, and have a direct impact on our situation (matsavenu).”390 However, Zemer as well as other

public figures, such as Begin, warned against the danger of turning the inquiry into “wrestling

mats” between Jews. As Begin put it, “what is needed for Israel are not struggles between Jews

387
Davar, October 17, 1973, 2.
388
Davar, October 23, 1973, 1. Begin harshly criticize Golda Meir and her “Kitchen Cabinet” (Ha-mitbakhon)—the
small group of senior ministers and unofficial advisors who assisted her in making decisions especially on issues of
national security—also on the day that followed Meir’s resignation from the premiership. See, The Knesset, Knesset
Protocols 70, April 11, 1974, 1126.
389
Between 1925 and 1996 the daily newspaper Davar (‘Iton Poalei Eretz Israel) was the mouthpiece of the Israeli
Labor party (Mapai).
390
Davar, 26 October, 1973, 5.
156
[milhamot yehudim] but rather a clarification among Jews.”391 Ironically enough, one of the figures

who also opposed punishing the Israeli military and political leadership was none other than Yigael

Yadin, that is, the same Yadin who had sought to join Meir’s government only three weeks before

he was appointed a member of the Agranat Commission, and the person who opposed punishing

Israel’s political and military leadership.392

Additional calls to setup an independent commission to investigate the failures of the war—

“painful as it gets” as Major-General (Res.) Haim Bar-Lev put it—were raised throughout

November 1973.393 A constant feature of such appeals was the demand for a comprehensive

examination that would rise above the military aspects of the war. Author and journalist Hanoch

Bartov, for example, called on the government “to publicly announce, on behalf of the government

and the Knesset, an inquiry into all aspects that preceded the war—political, intelligence [and]

military [ones].”394 Similar demands were raised by Knesset Member Yitzhak Ben-Aharon

(Labor), and former director of the Mossad, General (Res.) Meir Amit, who was immersed in

intelligence issues:

It is impossible to put all the blame on the military intelligence. What happened to us did

not start on Yom Kippur; it is a long process, which has continued since the Six Day War,

which all of us contributed to it [by our] excessive self-assurance, the sense of “there is no

one like me” (ani va’afsi ‘od), and underestimating the enemy . . . . All of us created this

391
Ma’ariv, November 9, 1973, 20. Similar calls to avoid clashed between Jews (Milhamot Yehudim) were raised by
Minister of Transportation Shimon Peres (Ma’ariv, November 5, 1973, 2), the author and journalist Hanoch Bartov
(Ma’ariv, November 9, 1973, 18), and others.
392
Silberman, A Prophet from Amongst You, 325.
393
Ma’ariv, November 2, 1973, 1.
394
Ibid, 5.
157
 process . . . . If everyone should “come down” now on our intelligence corps and consider

it the “scapegoat”—that would be a wrong and simplified approach.395

The anger, fear, and concern that characterized Israeli society in the wake of the war, made the

spirit of these words not easy to accept. The public expected its leaders to either take responsibility

for their errors, or be punished. When President Ephraim Katzir placed responsibility for the war

“of all of us,” as he put it in one of his speeches, he aroused strong public resentment. A few weeks

after the formation of the Agranat Commission, Katzir explained that “[p]rior to the war, we lived

in a fools’ paradise. We are all guilty in the negligence of the [national] security, development

and education . . . political and even military mistakes have been made.”396 Needless to say, social

affairs are not the focal point of the Agranat Commission report, although they do get some

attention, especially in the section authored by Haim Laskov about the misbehavior of IDF officers

and troops. 397 Titled “Order and Discipline,” this section addresses a number of topics, such as the

norms of Israeli troops and the affinity between them and the “people’s spirit.” It concludes that

prior to the issuance of the Agranat interim report, intelligence failure, let alone the Concept, were

not regarded as the primary cause for the war. Alternatively, they were considered one factor out

of a complex contexture that required urgent clarification.

The preliminary reactions to the interim report indicate that, even after it had been

published, some public figures insisted that the Yom Kippur War was first and foremost the result

of political, not military, failure. In a session of the Knesset on April 11, 1974, the day after the

395
I borrow the quote of Amit from an interview he gave to journalist Dov Goldstein (Ma’ariv, November 9, 1973,
28). Member of Knesset Yitzhak Ben-Aharon said similar things to the ones by Amit: “Prior to the Yom Kippur War
the work of the [Israeli] intelligence was almost worthless, since there were ideologies, prejudices and dogmas which
clogged the mind and the ears” (Ma’ariv, December 13, 1973, 19).
396
Ibid, 8. For more see the words of Menachem Gilad of Kibbutz Kfar-Ruppin who told Ma’ariv similar things (ibid,
5, 8).
397
Agranat, Third and Final, 1-65.
158
resignation of Golda Meir from the premiership, the political facet of the war was raised a number

of times. Knesset member Meir Talmi (Labor), for example, assumed that “there is a nexus

between political views and what is called in the [Agranat] report ‘the Concept.’”398 In his speech,

Talmi singled out Minister of Defense Moshe Dayan for particular criticism, despite the

Commission having exempted him from responsibility for the events of October 1973.

Member of Knesset Yehuda Sha’ari (Independent Liberals) made a similar point by

arguing that “what has been discovered [lately] is not just an error in intelligence assessment but

also inadequate policies and false political and security perceptions.”399 “If general elections would

be a necessity,” he added, “then we shall demand a clear peace policy, based on readiness for

territorial concession, which takes into account matters of national security.”400 According to

Sha’ari, both Dayan and Begin, who held hawkish positions, were responsible for the “blunder and

the false political and security concept.”401 Much more direct was Meir Pa’il, MK (Moked), who,

besides holding dovish views, was a former high-ranking officer. According to Pa’il, the main

failure of the war was political. In his view, “the secondary failure, [that is to say] the military one,

was to a great extent a function of the political passivity and the belief that time works in our

interest. This sense delayed our victory for 18 days instead of [only] 5-6 days.”402 No less direct

was Meir Vilner, MK (Israeli Communist Party). In one of his speeches Vilner spoke against the

Agranat Commission:

[T]he starting point of the Agranat Commission, which separates the military failure from

the basic governmental policy, which was principally shared by the government and the

398
The Knesset, Knesset Protocols 70, April 11, 1974, 1123.
399
Ibid, 1135.
400
Ibid, 1136.
401
Ibid.
402
Ibid, 1146.
159
 Likud alike—this starting point is totally groundless. The Agranat Commission ignores the

crucial reasons, the political ones, which brought about the October War. The Commission

reduces the matter to inquiring into those responsible for the military “blunder,” as it is

called, whereas it is impossible to separate between the military failure and the failure of

the [political] policy, which also stands at the basis of the military failure. What failed in

October was first and foremost the political perception according to which time strengthens

the status quo policy of the occupation, and the idea that Israel’s military superiority is a

permanent variable.403

The gap between the public debate about the war before the publication of the interim report, on

the one hand, and the public and scholarly debates about the war after its publication, on the other,

reveal how much of an impact the Agranat Commission left on Israel’s historical memory. The

publication of the interim report put the Concept into the spotlight and pushed aside other aspects

of the war. As mentioned, this process also enabled scholars to “rediscover” the “political failure”

in the 2000s.

Epilogue

In a section about “The Impact of the ‘Agranat Commission Report,’” the website of the Israel

Defense Forces and Defense Establishment Archives says the following:

The conclusions of the Commission shocked Israel to its foundations no less than the war

itself, since they brought upon changes in the political and military ranks, as well as public

resentment, since the Commission put most of its weight on the military echelon. Among

the changes [were the following]:

403
Ibid, 1143-1144.
160
  The resignation of Golda’s government in April 1974, and the establishment of

the new government of Yitzhak Rabin, with—Shimon Peres as Minister of

Defense;

 The resignation of IDF Chief David Elazar and the appointment of the new

Chief-of-Staff Mordechai (Mota) Gur

 The dismissal of additional officers at the top level of the [IDF] General Staff

 A massive rehabilitation of the IDF

 Implications in the fields of legislation and intelligence.’404

Each of these points is valid. But the list lacks a highly important theme that is the focus of this

chapter: the impact the Agranat Commission left on Israeli historical memory. The Commission

introduced the Israeli public to the theory that the calamity of the Yom Kippur War was, first and

foremost, the result of a failed intelligence Concept in April 1974. In doing so, the Commission,

in one word, founded the common Israeli wisdom for understanding the Yom Kippur surprise. In

light of the commanding place the Concept holds in Israeli historical memory, professional and

popular historians have tried to affirm, solidify, or refute the Concept by introducing alternative

and supplementary explanations for the war. Either way, by writing about “the Concept of

AMAN”—a term that was nowhere to be found in the language used by AMAN prior to the war—

the Agranat Commission created a powerful collective memory that set the tone of historical

debates about the conflict. In this respect, the Commission, like the Israeli Supreme Court, played

404
See the IDFA Website at: [Link]
(last visited on July 30, 2013). Besides amendments in the Israeli Commissions of Inquiry Law, 5729-1968, the work
of the Agranat Commission stands in the background of the legislation of Basic Law: The Military. For more on the
topic, see the reasoning for the law of July 9, 1975 (Bill 1197).
161
an important role not just in writing a chapter of Israel’s official history, but also in forming and

stimulating Israeli historical consciousness.405

In a rare public statement about the Commission’s work, Chief Justice Agranat said that

“he will let history judge the Agranat Commission.”406 Although this chapter criticizes the

Commission on several levels, it neither attempts to judge the Commission, nor attempts to rate

the quality of its work. Even more so, the chapter observes that the Agranat Commission did get

to the bottom of a number of issues, including ones related to AMAN and intelligence affairs.

Nevertheless, there is a substantial gap between the overarching Concept explanation that the

Commission suggested and the complexity of the material which the Commission examined. One

should stress again that the Commission was not established to write a comprehensive history of

the Yom Kippur War, nor did it try to do so. The effect of the Commission on Israeli historical

discourse is, to a great extent, an unintentional byproduct of its work: its mandate, the way the

Commission interpreted it, the focus on intelligence affairs, and the restrictions that the

Commission put on the publication of its report. These factors and circumstances combined with

the grave impression the war itself left on Israeli society and political system. Put another way, the

Agranat Commission, especially through its canonization of the Concept, deepened an existing

sense of demoralization that characterized post-war Israeli society.

One additional factor that accelerated the Commission’s effect on Israeli historical memory

was its attitude toward political leaders and high-ranking military officers. While the former were

not held responsible for any aspect of the war, the latter, which included the Chief-of-Staff, David

405
About the way the Israeli Supreme Court addressed landmark affairs in the history of the State of Israel, and
especially the 1948 War, see the piece by Daphna Barak-Erez, “Collective Memory and Judicial Legitimacy: The
Historical Narrative of the Israeli Supreme Court,” Canadian Journal of Law and Society 16 (2001): 93-112, and
Michal Shaked, “Ha-Historiyah be-Vet ha-Mishpat u-Vet ha-Mishpat ba-Historiyah: Piske ha-Din be-Mishpat
Kasztner veha-Nerativim shel ha-Zikaron,” Alpayim 20 (2000): 36-80.
406
Ma’ariv, August 28, 1978, 2.
162
Elazar, and General Eli Zeira, was treated harshly. It might be, that in light of the gloomy public

atmosphere following the war, assigning responsibility to figures involved in national intelligence

assessment was almost inevitable and even desirable. This chapter did not seek to determine

whether the Commission drew the right conclusions or not. And yet, the result of these conclusions

was that the Agranat Commission put the cart before the horse, that is, the Commission made a

historical judgment without undertaking a comprehensive historical study.

By putting the blame on military men without also scrutinizing political leaders, the

Commission left the impression that the Concept was indeed the original sin that shaped the entire

Yom Kippur War. The extensive corpus of scholarship about the war that has appeared in recent

decades indicates that the historical truth is by far more complicated than the single-minded

conceptual paradigm created by the Commission. While this theory seemingly touches on the

quintessential problem of the war, it offers a one-dimensional view of the war’s origins. Contrary

to this perspective, the war was the result not only of military factors, but also social and political

actions that are still not fully clear. The gap between the full and swift publication of the interim

report in April 1974, and the slow, partial publication of the second and third reports in the years

that followed, further deepened the fundamental disparity between the complex history of the war

and the one-dimensional perception in Israeli historical memory.

It has been four long decades since the Yom Kippur War ended. Yet, the war still captures

a central role in Israeli consciousness. This chapter sought to reconstruct the process that made the

Agranat Commission into an agent of history, memory, and language; that is, a kind of a prism

through which Israelis reflect about one of the most painful chapters in the history of their country.

The factors and circumstances that enabled the Commission to infuse the term “concept” with a

narrow meaning focused on intelligence affairs alone, made the Concept into an organizing

163
principle of the war. How ironic, that the same commission that took issue with what it believed

was a stubborn adherence of AMAN’s heads to the Concept, unintentionally created a concept of

its own that has permeated Israeli historical memory for decades. Indeed, we have reached a point

in time where it is extremely difficult to distinguish between the implications of the war, on the

one hand, and the effects of the Commission on the other. The Yom Kippur War, the Agranat

Commission, and the Concept have become inseparable from one another.

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 Case Closed – Affair Open: The Bekhor Commission and the Affair of the Arlosoroff
Murder

Introduction

Ironically, this chapter pays very little attention to the person who ostensibly stands at its heart.

The main contribution of Chaim Arlosoroff (1899-1933) to the following discussion is, after all,

his tragic death on 16 June 1933. The death of the director of the political department of the Jewish

agency, and the complex affair that followed have been a milestone in history of Zionism. As

Shlomo Avineri put it, “l’Affaire Arlosoroff was to become the most notorious political murder

case in modern Zionist history . . . parallel in its intensity perhaps only to the impact of the Dreyfus

Affair on French politics.”407 If there is one certain thing concerning the death of Arlosoroff—

which divided the Yishuv408 and poisoned the relations between rival Zionist factions, the

Revisionists and Labor, for decades—it is that it was not a natural death. Arlosoroff was murdered

during an evening stroll with his wife, Simah, along the beach in Tel Aviv. Today this area is one

of the most vibrant parts of the city. On the night of the murder, however, the beach was dark, and

the couple believed it to be completely deserted. It was an assumption that turned out to be a deadly

mistake.

According to Simah, the only eye witness to her husband’s murder, two strangers started

to taunt them as they made their way back to the Keta Dan pension. The first man asked Arlosoroff

in poor Hebrew, “What time is it?” He then blinded him with a flashlight. The second man fired a

gun one time, hitting Arlosoroff in the stomach. Both men ran without waiting to see if their victim

407
Shlomo Avineri, Arlosoroff (London 1989), 2. Over the years much has been written about the life and work of
Chaim Arlosoroff, who was a renaissance man. See, for example, Joseph Shapiro, Hayim Arlozorof (Tel-Aviv 1975);
Miryam Getter, Hayim Arlozorov: Biografyah Politit (Tel-Aviv University 1977), and the manuscripts by Arlosoroff
himself, Kitve Hayim Arlozorov, seven volumes, (Tel-Aviv 1934-1935). A short documentary about Arlosoroff’s
funeral is available online at [Link] (last visited on April 9, 2014).
408
The Hebrew term Yishuv denotes the pre-state Jewish community in Palestine.
165
was dead or not. Two hours later, after copious blood loss, Arlosoroff died on the operating table.

During his funeral, which took place on the following day, Tel-Aviv stood still. The shops in the

city closed and thousands of people from all across the country and political spectrum paid tribute

to him. The murder thus ended the meteoric career of one of the most creative diplomats in all of

Zionist history. It was also the beginning of a mystery that remains unsolved to this day.

Who murdered Arlosoroff and why? These questions do not have a single answer. Many

theories have been proposed, both in the days immediately following the murder and in the years

since. Theories variously attributed the murder to Arabs or Jews, to people from the political Right

or the Left, to Nazi or British agents, to communist activists, and even to Simah Arlosoroff, who

on the evening of the murder may have been carrying a gun. The two most popular theories from

the start, however, came from opposing Zionist political camps: on the one hand, the left-wing

Labor movement and Mapai party, and, on the other, the right-wing Revisionists.409

Leaders of the Labor movement and Mapai insisted almost from the day of the murder that it

was a case of political assassination carried out by Revisionist extremists Avraham Stavsky and

Tsvi Rosenblatt. The Revisionist camp and its leader, Vladimir (Ze’ev) Jabotinsky, countered that

this accusation was a modern blood-libel, devised to give Mapai political hegemony in the Yishuv

and the World Zionist Congress. For their part, the Revisionists pinned the murder on two Arabs

from Jaffa—Abdul Madjeid and Issa Darwish—who they claimed shot Arlosoroff in an attempt to

sexually assault his wife. This version was rejected as early as 1934 by the British Mandate

authorities who arrested Madjeid and Darwish but eventually set them free.

409
Mapai (Hebrew initials for Workers’ Party of the Land of Israel) was established in 1930 as a union of a number
of workers parties. For decades, it was the leading party in the Labor camp, the Zionist world, and the Israeli political
system. Throughout the chapter, I use the terms “Mapai” and “Labor” alternately.
166
 Over the years, different forums and individuals have been tasked with determining which,

if either, of these two narratives was a true accounting of events. These forums included the

Mandate authorities, Zionist leaders, professional and non-professional historians, legal scholars,

journalists, and the Israeli justice system. Unable to agree upon the identity and motive of the

murderers, none was able to bring the affair to full closure. The continuing lack of certainty in the

case even made its way into the Israeli idiom “at the end of the day you will blame me for

assassinating Arlosoroff,” which came to mean the rejection of an open-ended, but false,

accusation.

This chapter does not attempt to solve the mystery of who murdered Arlosoroff. It seeks

neither to determine which of the explanations of the murder is correct or incorrect, nor to offer an

alternative explanation that has yet to be put forward. Rather, the chapter details decades of efforts

to uncover the truth about the Arlosoroff murder and embed it in the collective memory of the

Yishuv and Israeli society. One of the key points of this process was the establishment in 1982 of

an Israeli state commission of inquiry—the Bekhor Commission—which was expected to function

as an arbiter of history and agent of memory.410 The Commission was also considered by some to

be the strangest commission of inquiry in the history of the State of Israel.

Although the Commission was established with the approval of the government, the

attorney-general, and even the Supreme Court, quite a few scholars, journalists and ordinary

citizens ridiculed the Bekhor Commission from the start and subjected it to ongoing contempt.

Critics presented it as, among other things, a politically-motivated commission whose purpose was

to allow the government to get involved in a historical event that seemed completely removed from

410
I have elaborated on the terms “arbiters of history” and “agents of memory” in other chapters of the dissertation,
including the introduction.
167
the reality of 1980s Israel. More specifically, some critics saw the Commission as part of a wider

struggle over the national historical heritage following the rise of the right-wing Likud party and

its first electoral victory in 1977.411 It was insinuated that the prime minister, Menachem Begin,

and his Likud government wished the state commission of inquiry to affirm the Revisionist version

of the murder and make it an integral part of the nation’s historical memory.

According to the Israeli Commissions of Inquiry Law (5729-1968), the government is

allowed to set up an inquiry when “a matter exists which is at the time of vital public importance

and requires clarification” (emphasis added).412 The Bekhor Commission, however, was mandated

to deal with a murder case that occurred years before the establishment of the State of Israel.

Moreover, several of the protagonists in the Arlosoroff affair passed away years before the

Commission was established, including Avraham Stavsky, who was killed in 1948,413 and Simah

Arlosoroff, who died in the late 1970s. Thus the government’s decision to set up the Bekhor

Commission was fraught with problems from the beginning. In addition, there was the question of

why the government believed the Commission would succeed in conclusively solving the murder

when neither the Mandate court, historians, national leaders, nor anyone else had been able to do

411
The Likud (literally: the consolidation) party was established in 1973 when a number of Zionist right-wing parties
joined forces with Herut. (The Herut party was established in the summer of 1948 by a group of Irgun veterans headed
by Menachem Begin. The party that presented itself and was widely viewed as the political successor of the Revisionist
movement). Between 1948 and 1977 Herut and the Likud led the opposition against the ruling-party Mapai. 1977 was
the first time that the Likud and Begin won the national elections. This landmark event in Israeli politics is commonly
called “the change” (ha-mahapakh).
412
See section 1 of the Israeli Commissions of Inquiry Law, 5729-1968 (emphasis added). An English translation of
the law is available in The State of Israel, Laws of the State of Israel, Vol. 23, 5729-1968/69 (Jerusalem 1968/69), 32-
39. Under certain circumstances, the State Control Committee of the Knesset (the Israeli Parliament) has the legal
right to establish a state commission of inquiry. For further details see Avigdor Klagsbald, Tribunals of Inquiry
(Jerusalem 2001).
413
Stavsky was killed while on board the Altalenah ship. The Altalenah (pen name for Jabotinsky) was an arms ship
of Irgun (a para-military organization affiliated with the Revisionist camp). The commander of the ship was the Irgun’s
leader, Menachem Begin. In June 1948, shortly after the inception of the State of Israel, the Israeli army (IDF) sunk
the Altalenah on the Tel-Aviv beach. The attack claimed the lives of sixteen Irgun members and three IDF soldiers.
It also brought the young Israeli society to the verge of a civil war.
168
so in all the intervening years. In the end, the assumption that the Bekhor Commission would be

able to determine who murdered Arlosoroff proved incorrect.

The Bekhor Commission’s work continued for three years, at the end of which it was still

unable to reach a positive conclusion about who murdered Arlosoroff. While the Commission

definitively found that Stavsky and Rosenblatt did not commit the murder, the evidence and

material brought before it were not sufficient to enable it to determine “who the murderers were,”

and “whether it was a political murder on behalf of any party, or not.”414 It is therefore not

surprising that some people who were convinced that Stavsky and Rosenblatt, or Abdul Madjeid

and Issa Darwish, murdered Arlosoroff, viewed the Commission as a complete failure. This

chapter, on the other hand, argues that the work of the Commission needs to be evaluated by more

than just its ability or inability to clarify the murder it was tasked to investigate.

Ideally, commissions of inquiry, including the Bekhor Commission, are indeed fact-finding

bodies. However, due to their special status as a state apparatus that, on the one hand, arises from

governmental power, and, on the other, does not totally fit into any of the existing archetypes of

the executive, legislative, and judicial branches, commissions have the potential to accomplish

socio-political functions these others do not. To nuance this point it is imperative not to divorce

commissions from the social, political and cultural circumstances under which they were

created.415 Specifically in the context of the Bekhor Commission this means that one needs to set

414
The State Commission of Inquiry into the Murder of Dr. Chaim Arlosoroff Report (Jerusalem 1985) (Hereafter, the
Bekhor Report), 202. I borrow this quote from the official press bulletin of June 4, 1985. The document includes a
translation of several excerpts of the Bekhor Report, which was not translated into English in its entirety. Unless
otherwise stated, all quotes of the report are taken from this document along with a reference to the page number in
the original Hebrew version. All other translations in this chapter are mine. I would like to use this opportunity to
thank Judge Alon Gilon, the secretary of the Bekhor Commission, for giving me a copy of the press bulletin.
415
See Giselle Byrens, Waitangi Tribunal and New Zealand History, (South Melbourne and New York: 2004), 10 and
Jonathan Simon, “Parrhesiastic Accountability: Investigative Commissions and Executive Power in an Age of Terror,”
The Yale Law Journal 114:6 (2005): 1419-1457.
169
the work of the Commission in the context of former attempts to investigate the Arlosoroff murder.

As we will see, the events that led to the setup of the Commission and the procedures the

Commission utilized to examine the case are critical for understanding its social importance in a

way that exceeds its limited ability to find facts. This also emphasizes the tripartite research

challenge faced by the Commission—the fusion of legal, political, and historiographical factors.

As such, this chapter increases our understanding of processes of writing history, the formation of

collective memory, and the ways in which Israeli society has struggled for historical truth. By

placing the Bekhor Commission in the context of former attempts to clarify the Arlosoroff murder,

and by addressing the way in which the Commission itself tried to meet its challenge, the chapter

concludes that the Commission functioned as an exceptional site of memory.416 While the

Commission was the climax of a decades-long process to resolve the affair of the Arlosoroff

murder once and for all, its willingness to acknowledge its own inability to determine the identity

of Arlosoroff’s murderers made this climax look like an anti-climax. In practice, however, the final

conclusions of the Commission reflected a balanced research approach, which stands in

contradiction to former attempts to bring closure to the affair.

This chapter covers about ninety years of inquiry into Arlosoroff’s murder. It begins in the

1920s, when Mapai and Revisionist activists incited their peers against their political rivals, and

ends with twenty-first-century references to the case. This timeline will not be plotted out in a

linear way but based on the following outline. Divided into four sub-sections, the first section of

the chapter is largely descriptive. It introduces the protagonists and narrates the milestones of the

affair in the 1930s. The section pays special attention to the way the two main narratives about the

416
The term “site-of-memory” (Les Lieux de Mémoire) is borrowed from the work of Pierre Nora, “Between Memory
and History: Les Lieux de Mémoire,” Representations 26 (1989): 7-24.
170
murder—those of the Labor movement and the Revisionists—have been formed. We will see that

like other theories about the murder that never came out from under their shadow, the narratives

of Mapai and the Revisionists were founded on the basis of wishful thinking and political bias, not

on the basis of empirical evidence. In other words, as different as these two narratives were from

one another, both emanated out of the mutual political animosity that existed from the 1920s. Since

both parties were motivated by their own political truths, which were contrary to the political truths

of their opponent, both expected the British Mandate legal system not to unveil the truth about the

murder, but to confirm the truth they already knew.417 That said, neither of the narratives satisfied

the legal burden of proof. The decision of the Mandate Criminal Court of Appeal to acquit Stavsky

in July 1934 for technical reasons stood in contradiction to the political truths of the parties. As a

result, the court did not put an end to the affair but, instead, exacerbated the political animosity

between the parties.

The chapter’s second section follows the legal complications of the 1930s into the 1960s

and 70s by way of two libel cases that incriminated Tsvi Rosenblatt and others on the Zionist Right

with carrying out the murder. The importance of these trials lay in the Revisionist attempt to use

the Israeli legal system to present Mapai as an immoral party and to investigate the unsolved

murder. An additional issue that arises from these libel cases, and is the subject of the third section,

417
I use the term “political truth” to denote a “truth based on political acceptability rather than objectivity” (Simon,
“Parrhesiastic Accountability,” 1434.) About the difference between this kind of truth and other truths such as “legal
truth,” “absolute truth,” and “historical truth,” see the piece by Giorgio Resta and Vincenzo Zeno-Zencovich, “Judicial
‘Truth’ and Historical ‘Truth’: The Case of the Ardeatine Caves Massacre,” Law and History Review 31:4 (Nov.
2013): 843-886; Carlo Ginzburg, The Judge and the Historian: Marginal Notes on a Late-Twentieth-Century
Miscarriage of Justice (London and New York 1999); Austin Sarat and Thomas R. Kearns, eds. History, Memory and
the Law: The Amherst Series in Law, Jurisprudence, and Social Thought (Michigan 2002); Aharon Barak, “’Al
Mishpat Shiput ve-Emet,” Mishpatim 27:11 (1996): 11-16; Haim Cohen, “Din Emet la-Amito,” in Gevurot Le-shimon
Agranat, eds., Aharon Barak [Link]. (Jerusalem, 1987), 35-87; Asher Maoz, “Historical Adjudication: Courts of Law,
Commissions of Inquiry, and ‘Historical Truth,’” Law and History Review 18:3 (autumn 2000): 565; and Nina
Salzmann, “Emet 'Uvdadit ve-Emet Mishpatit—Meni’at Meda mi-Veit ha-Mishpat leshem Haganah ‘al ‘Arakhim
Hevratiyim,” Iyune Mishpat 24 (2001): 263-279.

171
was spearheaded by attorney Shmuel Tamir (Katznelson). It relates to a critical component of the

Arlosoroff affair since the end of the 1934 murder trial. Revisionist activists who believed in the

“blood libel” thesis—which claimed that Mapai sought to incriminate Stavsky and Rosenblatt to

make political profit—considered the Arlosoroff murder to be unfinished business. Conversely,

there were those in the Labor movement who preferred to ignore the case completely. Some Labor

activists even tried to prevent the writing and publication of historical studies of the murder and

its aftermath.

The fourth section of the chapter will illustrate this friction between remembering and

forgetting the murder while following decades-long attempts to establish a commission of inquiry.

While Revisionist activists and veterans of the Revisionist movement sought to establish a

commission from the 1930s, senior members within the Labor movement were able to stop them

time and time again. The door to the establishment of the Bekhor Commission was opened only

with the political change of 1977, when, with the victory of Likud in the general elections, the Left

lost power for the first time in Israeli history.

The fifth part of the chapter will discuss the book The Arlosoroff Murder by historian and

journalist Shabtai Teveth, the publication of which in 1982 was the direct catalyst for the

establishment of the Bekhor Commission. The ways in which the Begin government interpreted

the book, and the legal challenges that inhibited the beginning of the work of the Commission, will

constitute the bulk of the section.

The sixth and final section of the chapter focuses on the public debate that accompanied

the Bekhor Commission from its outset, and the way in which it tried to meet its research

challenges.

172
 The chapter therefore deconstructs a prolonged and complicated fight for the historical

truth, fusing legal, political, and historiographical components. The road that led to the creation of

the Bekhor Commission was long, steep, and winding. Focusing only on the destination, that is,

the final conclusions of the Commission, would be simplistic and one-dimensional. The bird’s-eye

view afforded by this chapter reveals the Bekhor Commission to have been much more than just a

fact-finding mechanism. It was a lens that illuminated the nature of the historian’s craft, the

functions that the historical discipline performs, or is supposed to perform, and the affinity it

maintains with other domains such as law and politics.

The Formation of the Main Narratives about the Arlosoroff Murder

Explanations and Alternative

Some of the theories that were raised over the years concerning the death of Chaim Arlosoroff

appear to have been taken straight out of a detective novel. If they were founded on anything at

all, it was weak circumstantial evidence and a well-developed imagination. One such example is

a theory that was raised for the first time decades ago and recently published in the form of a

historical novel.418

According to this theory, Arlosoroff was murdered by Nazi agents who acted on behalf of the

Nazi propaganda minister, Josef Goebbels. This premise was based on Arlosoroff’s part in the

Transfer Agreement, whereby Zionists sought to initiate contact with the Nazi leadership in order

to facilitate Jewish emigration from Germany to Palestine.419 To this end, Arlosoroff allegedly

418
Tobie Nathan, Who Killed Arlosoroff? (Tel-Aviv 2013).
419
Nazi Germany, the Zionist Federation of Germany and the Anglo-Palestinian Bank signed the “Transfer
Agreement” on 25 August, 1933. The agreement allowed German Jews to leave the country with at least some of their
private property, which was transferred to Palestine in the form of German goods.
173
tried to renew his earlier ties to Goebbel’s wife, Magda, who, as a teenager, had been on friendly

terms with him and his sister Lisa. It was rumored that the relations between the young Arlosoroff

and Magda had evolved into a romantic relationship.420 The murder of Arlosoroff, according to

this theory, was motivated by the propaganda minister’s disgust at the thought that his wife had an

intimate relationship with a Jew. According to an alternate explanation, Goebbels was concerned

that the prior relationship between his wife and Arlosoroff would become public.

The only problem with this story is that there are no solid facts to prove it. First, the Arlosoroff

family dismissed it decades ago as total nonsense. Secondly, it is understood that in his last visit

to Berlin, a few days before his death, Arlosoroff contacted only Jewish representatives and not

Nazi officials. It is therefore not surprising that historian Yechiam Weitz argues that “the Nazi

theory” about the murder is the most far-fetched of them all.421

Other theories about the murder attributed it to members of the Palestine Communist Party

(PCP), supporters of the Labor movement (to which Arlosoroff was affiliated), and even to

Arlosoroff’s widow.422 While these theories might contain a kernel of truth—PCP activists were

detained for investigation, and some Labor activists wanted Ben-Gurion as their leader, not

Arlosoroff—these theories are speculative and supported by no more than partial circumstantial

420
Interestingly, early in her life Magda was adopted by a Jewish father and was called Magda Friedländer. About the
personal relations between Chaim Arlosoroff and Magda, see Anja Klabunde, Magda Goebbels (London 2002);
Margot Klausner, Sufat Sivan: Parasha Ahronah be-Haye Haim Arlosoroff (Tel-Aviv 1956), 45-47; Bella Fromm,
Blood and Banquets: A Berlin Social Diary (London 1942); Shabtai Teveth, Retsah Arlosoroff (Jerusalem and Tel-
Aviv 1982), 35-36 (hereafter, Teveth, The Arlosoroff Murder), and Anna Maria Sigmund, Women of the Third Reich
(Canada 2000), 69-95. Also see the testimonies given to the Bekhor Commission by Chaim Arlosoroff’s son, Saul,
and by Max Flasch, which are available at the Israel State Archives (hereafter: ISA) C-7120/12 and C-7120/10,
respectively.
421
And yet, the “Nazi theory” about the murder has not been completely ruled out, and according to the researcher
Shlomo Nakdimon, it should not be disqualified outright. See the pieces by Yechiam Weitz, “Ha-Pitron he-Hazuy
Beyoter le-Hitdat Retsah Arlosoroff,” Haaretz, June 11, 2013, and compare to Shlomo Nakdimon, “Az Mi Ratsah et
Arlosoroff? Ve-Lama?,” Haaretz, July 2, 2013.
422
About these theories see David Tidhar, Be-Shirut ha-Moledet (1912-1960):Zikhronot, Demuyot, Te’udot ve-
Temunot (Tel-Aviv 1960-61), 412-420; Teveth, The Arlosoroff Murder, 269-270 and Shmuel Dothan, Reds: The
Communist Party in Palestine (Kfar-Sava 1991), 184-195.
174
evidence. Certainly, the PCP had an intense aversion to the Labor movement, which they descried

as a nationalist and anti-internationalist movement.423 It is also clear that communist activists

despised Arlosoroff as an architect of the Transfer Agreement which they contended strengthened

the Nazi economy and jeopardized Soviet interests. At least on paper, the PCP had a motive to

murder Arlosoroff. Likewise, supporters of David Ben-Gurion who wanted him to lead Mapai saw

Arlosoroff’s meteoric career as a major hindrance to Ben-Gurion’s control. Retrospectively, it is

clear that Arlosoroff’s death indeed gave Ben-Gurion the opportunity to become the undisputed

leader of Mapai and the Jewish Agency. Nevertheless, as with the “Nazi theory” of the murder,

these theories involving either the PCP or the Labor movement lack empirical evidence. They

leave a long list of basic questions unanswered, regarding the identity of the murderers, the way

they committed it, and how they got away with it.

It is not surprising that these theories never came out from under the shadow of the main

narratives of the murder, that is, those put forward by the Labor movement and the Revisionists,

both of which are also circumstantial in nature. As we will see in the following pages, these

principal narratives emerged within days of the murder based on prior beliefs, intuition, and

political interests, not on clear-cut evidence.

No Proof – No Doubts

Just a day after the murder, on the June 17, 1933, the Histadrut (The General Federation of

Laborers in the Land of Israel) published the following statement:

423
About what scholar Zeev Sternhell reads as the imbalance between the socialist and nationalist features of the
Labor movement in its formative years, see his book, Nation and Building or a New Society? The Zionist Labor
Movement (1904-1940) and the Origins of Israel (Tel-Aviv 1995).
175
 Chaim Arlosoroff has been murdered . . . We do not yet know from which dark corner this

disaster came upon us . . . We do not know whose murderous hand it was and what was its

goal, we are not permitted to determine certainties based on speculations and calculations.

But we do know this—the hand was directed at us and it hit Arlosoroff, a messenger of our

movement . . . We have only one thing to say at this time: the murder hit our hearts like an

arrow. But if there are those who think that by murdering our leaders, our enterprise will

be murdered as well, the historical enterprise of Zionism and the enterprise of the worker’s

movement—then they do not comprehend the spirit of our movement.424

A double and contradictory message transpired from this announcement. On the one hand, it

stressed uncertainty about the identity of the murderers, and warned against jumping to rash

conclusions. On the other hand, the statement made clear that the rationale of the murder was

grounded in politics, whether directed against the Zionist movement as a whole, or the Labor

movement specifically.

Similar statements on behalf of the Histadrut and its chairman, David Ben-Gurion, were

published in the days that followed.425 Yet again, these statements did not include explicit mention

of the Revisionist movement or specific suspects. But the repeated call to avoid retribution

amplified a common notion among leaders and followers of the Labor movement and Mapai: that

the murder was the result of the political rivalry between their camp and the Revisionists. Ben-

424
Davar, June 27, 1933, 1 (emphasis in the original). The announcement was reprinted by Mifleget Po’ale Eretz
Yisrael, Ketavim ve-Te’udot 5689-5695 (Tel-Aviv 1935), 167-168.
425
In a statement dated 20 June, the public was called to show restraint: “We must not make up our mind and cast
judgment until the final conclusion is determined! Restraint and clear mindedness must accompany all stages of the
investigation and the trial . . . Any hint of revenging thoughts—will be strangled as soon as they are found out,” Davar,
June 20, 1933, 1 (emphasis in the original). Regarding the calls of Ben-Gurion not to revenge see Teveth, The
Arlosoroff Murder, 105 and Shabtai Teveth, Kin’at David: Haye David Ben-Gurion, Vol. III (Jerusalem and Tel-Aviv
1987), Vol. III, 48.
176
Gurion gave witness to this belief as early as June 23, when he wrote in his diary that “it cannot

yet be determined that a Revisionist murdered [Arlosoroff] but it can be speculated on the basis of

the pogrom like incitement of Jabotinsky against the workers.”426

We will say more about this incitement later. At this point, it is important to mention that

just as Ben-Gurion and his peers in Labor believed that Revisionist activists were responsible for

the murder, so Revisionists felt that their political camp was being held responsible for the murder

without reason. The first official reaction of the Revisionist movement to the murder was on June

21.427 Stavsky had been brought in for his first interrogation two days earlier. The Mandate

authorities had not yet released any information about the investigation, let alone pressed charges

against Stavsky or anyone else. At this point, then, Stavsky was totally anonymous in the Yishuv.

Davar newspaper, the mouthpiece of the Labor movement in Palestine, published his name for the

first time on June 22 without bothering to mention his association with the Revisionist

movement.428 Nevertheless, on the previous day the Revisionist Zionist Alliance [hereafter, RZA]

published in Davar a statement that condemned the murder, presented it as an “anti-Zionist and

anti-Jewish” act, and warned against mutual suspicion that could break up the Yishuv from

within.429 There was no specific reference to the tension between the Labor movement and the

Revisionists. The Revisionist statement also does not directly mention rumors about possible

426
I borrowed the quote from Yechaim Weitz, Between Ze’ev Jabotinsky and Menachem Begin: Essays on the
Revisionist Movement (Jerusalem 2012), 62. Also see David Ben-Gurion, Zikhronot, Vol. II 1934-1935 (Tel-Aviv
1972), 100-102.
427
According to a preliminary informal reaction of Revisionist activists immediately after the murder, the murderer
of Arlosoroff was a communist activist who was “planted” within the movement by the Comintern. See Davar, July
7, 1933, 3; Shabtai Teveth, Kin’at David, 49, and Teveth, The Arlosoroff Murder, 121. This position seemingly
supports the theory about the PCP involvement in the murder. Nevertheless, this position was replaced shortly
thereafter—no later than June 28, 1933—in favor of the claim that the murderers were Arabs. See the statement
Jabotinsky delivered in Warsaw on June 28, 1933 (a Hebrew version is available on the website of the Jabotinsky
institute in Israel (hereafter: JIA) at:
[Link]
428
Davar, June 22, 1933, 1.
429
Davar, June 21, 1933, 3.
177
Revisionist involvement in the murder. Yet, the mere fact that the statement was published in the

opposition’s paper suggests the desire to quell suspicions about Revisionist involvement.

Furthermore, on the following day, June 22, the leader of the Revisionist movement, Jabotinsky,

published an article which addressed the sentiment of Revisionists who felt that Labor unjustly

held them responsible for the murder.430

Entitled “Cool and Still,” the article, which was published in the Yiddish Warsaw

newspaper Der Moment, laid the foundation for the Revisionist narrative. Jabotinsky condemned

the murder and the agitation against his movement by setting events in the context of the run up to

the elections for the 18th Zionist congress (August 1933). According to Jabotinsky, Labor and

Mapai hoped that by smearing the Revisionist movement they would rally support for the elections.

In his article, Jabotinsky reminded his readership that every accused is innocent until proven guilty,

and that no group should be discredited due to the act of one individual. As an example, Jabotinsky

drew parallels between the Arlosoroff case and the antisemitism surrounding the Dreyfus case in

France and the Russian blood libel trial of the Jew, Mendel Beilis.431 The article ends by addressing

the opponents of the Revisionists—a call that Jabotinsky presented “coolly but sternly”—to stop

using the murder for political ends.432

430
Ze’ev Jabotinsky, “Kalt und Fest” (Cool and Still), Der Moment, June 22, 1933. A copy of the original piece is
available online at: [Link] . For further details
regarding “Kalt und Fest” see Ha-Va’ad le-Hotsa’at Sefer Betar, Sefer Betar: Korot u-Mekorot (Jerusalem 1969-
1973), 51-52.
431
Menachem Mendel Beilis (1874-1934) was a Ukrainian Jew who in 1911 was accused of committing a ritual
murder. He was eventually acquitted in 1913 at the end of a trial that excited the Jewish world. Beilis’ story is normally
presented as the most recent blood-libel in Jewish history. About the trial, see Azekiel Leikin, ed., Beilis Transcripts:
The Anti-Semitic Trial that Shook the World (Northvale, NJ 1993) and Robert E. Weinberg , “The Trial of Mendel
Beilis: The Sources of ‘Blood Libel’ in Late Imperial Russia,” in Russia’s Century of Revolutions: Parties, People,
Places, eds., Michael S. Melancon and Donald J. Raleigh (Bloomington 2012), 17-36.
432
Also relevant here is the official statement Jabotinsky made on June 23, 1923. A copy of the statement is available
at the JIA, C-3, 2/9, 7. A copy of the original is available online at:
[Link]
178
 This was the first of dozens of articles that Jabotinsky wrote about the murder and its

political fallout.433 What they all had in common was the deep conviction of the author that his

political camp and the Revisionist members who were put on trial for the murder in 1934 were

innocent of the crime.434 As biographers of Jabtinsky mention, this conviction was almost

instinctive.435Jabotinsky and the Revisionist movement stood behind the accused during their trial,

financed their legal defense, and fought for their reputation across the front pages of Jewish

newspapers inside and outside Palestine.

Soon after the murder, in June 1933, Jabotinsky voiced the opinion that Arlosoroff’s killers

were Arabs and not Jews. This opinion appeared to be substantiated in January 1934, when Abdul

Madjeid confessed to the police about his part in the murder. Jabotinsky was convinced that he

and another Arab, Issa Darwish, whom the police also detained for investigation, were the

murderers. Madjeid later retracted his confession for reasons that were never fully clarified but

later admitted guilt again. His second confession to the police was given when the legal

proceedings against Stavsky were in an advanced phase. This and the fact that Simah Arlosoroff

insisted that Madjeid was not the murderer prevented the police from presenting his statement to

the court. The question of whether Madjeid was indeed Arlosoroff’s murderer remains open,

especially since he allegedly told several people about his part in the crime. In late 1934, Madjeid

433
The bibliographic details of the pieces by Jabotinsky are available in the volume by Mina Graur, The Writing of
Ze’ev Jabotinsky: A Bibliography 1897-1940 (Tel-Aviv 2007).
434
See Joseph Schechtman, Rebel and Statesman: The Vladimir Jabotinsky Story (Tel-Aviv 1959), Vol. II, 244;
Shmuel Katz, Lone Wolf: A Biography of Vladimir (Ze’ev) Jabotinsky (New York 1996), 1371. Also relevant here is
the piece by Ze’ev Jabotinsky, “Auf der Sheid Weg” (A Few Steps from the Crossroads), Der Moment, June 16, 1934.
A Hebrew version of the piece was published on June 19, 1934, in Ha-Yarden. A copy of the piece is available online
at: [Link]
435
Interestingly, Stavsky also enjoyed the public support of tens of rabbis, including the Chief Rabbi of Palestine,
Avraham Yitzhak ha-Cohen Kook, who was willing to swear about Stavsky’s innocence on Yom Kippur in front of
an open Torah ark. For further details about that see Ch. Ben Yerocham, The Great Libel: The Arlosoroff Case (Tel-
Aviv 1982), 154, 162-164, 169. (Ch. Ben Yerocham was one of the pen names of Dr. Merhavia Hen-Melekh).
Historian Hillel Cohen mentions that, in the context of the 1929 Riots, Rabbi Kook found it hard to believe that Jews
could murder other Jews. See Hillel Cohen, 1929: Year Zero of the Jewish-Arab Conflict (Jerusalem 2013), 151-152.
179
was convicted of murdering another Arab from Jaffa, for which he served a long prison sentence.

Over the years, prison cellmates claimed that Madjeid repeatedly confessed to killing

Arlosoroff.436 These hearsay testimonies do not explain why Madjeid willingly confessed to the

murder but, in any case, the Mandate police chose not to press charges against either Madjeid or

Darwish.

In April 1934, Stavsky, Rosenblatt, and other Revisionists stood trial for direct and indirect

involvement in Arlosoroff’s murder. As we will see in the following pages, none was convicted

for direct involvement in the crime. Even so, Labor leaders remained convinced—before, during,

and after the trial—that Revisionist activists plotted and committed the murder for political

reasons.

Repressed Doubts

Historian Anita Shapira points out, “[T]he guilt of Stavsky and his colleagues was a tenet of faith

for the leaders of the Histadrut and Mapai, and nobody dared openly to refute the charges.” 437

Some leaders of the Histadrut and Mapai, however, had doubts regarding the guilt of the

Revisionists who were put on trial.

One of those who harbored doubt was the editor of the Davar newspaper, Berl Katznelson.

The suspicion that the Revisionist’s guilt was refutable crept into Katznelson’s mind because of

an independent investigation conducted by four other senior members of the Histadrut and the

436
See Haim Guri, Ha-Sefer ha-Meshuga (Tel-Aviv 1971), 136-137; Menachem Levin, The Scroll of Menachem (Tel-
Aviv 2008), 66; Uriel Ben-Ami, Last Roar in Metula (Tel-Aviv 1990), 94-98, and Dan Margalit, Ra’iti Otam (Tel-
Aviv 1997), 204. Some witnesses, who testified before the Bekhor Commission in the 1980s testified that Abdul
Madjeid used to boast about the murder of Arlosoroff. See the testimonies of Yitzhak Hankin and Von Weisl at ISA,
C-7125-46, especially page10, and ISA C-7120/12, 604, respectively. Also see the letter General Shlomo Arel wrote
to Prof. Yosef Nedava on May 26, 1983, ISA C-7120/5, and the letter by Max Seligman to Margot Klausner,
November 10, 1948, The Central Zionist Archives (hereafter: CZA) A493-99.
437
Anita Shapira, Berl: The Biography of a Socialist Zionist (Cambridge 1984), 197.
180
Haganah beginning in June 1933. The four—Eliyahu Golomb, Dov Hoz, Shaul Avigur and Yosef

Dekel—collected incriminating evidence against the Revisionists and passed it on to the Mandate

police. The nature of that independent investigation, which came to be known as the Committee

of Four, was a point of contention between supporters of the Labor movement and the Revisionists.

As historian Ya’akov Shavit has noted, the internal investigation mechanism of the Labor

movement was accused of not wanting “to uncover the truth but rather to incriminate the accused

by all possible means, including forging testimony and evidence or hiding other testimony and

other evidence. A description of this internal mechanism in the Revisionist literature is compared

with Soviet political policing tactics including its brutality.”438 Shavit himself, one should note,

like other scholars such as Shabtai Teveth, rejected these claims categorically. 439 By 1934, Berl

Katznelson, however, was convinced that this internal investigation was indeed being conducted

too aggressively. Yet, despite his doubts about the Revisionists’ guilt, Katznelson expressed the

dominant Labor line.

The activities of the Committee of Four went hand in hand with another Revisionist

accusation that one of the legal advisors of the Histadrut, Dov (Bernard) Joseph, was actively

trying to incriminate the Revisionists by assisting and providing information to the British

prosecutor.440 Although there was no agreement whether Joseph acted unlawfully to secure the

conviction of the accused, it is indisputable that he maintained close ties with the prosecution. It

438
ISA C-7124/4, 21-22.
439
See, for instance, Teveth, The Arlosoroff Murder, 127 and compare to alternative accounts about the “Committee
of Four”; Ben Yerocham, The Great Libel, 77-78; Tidhar, Be-Shirut ha-Moledet, 408-412, and Menachem Sarid,
Chosen to Govern: The Struggle for the Hegemony on the Yishuv and Zionism 1930-1935 (Hertseliyah 2005), 353-
354. Interestingly, the biographer of Shaul Avigur also mentions that the said committee had employed inappropriate
means to assure that the accused Revisionist were incriminated. See Arieh Boaz, Unseen yet Always Present: The Life
Story of Shaul Avigur (Tel-Aviv 2001), 61.
440
Later in his life, Joseph became a member of Knesset and a minister in a number of Mapai governments.
181
was also rumored that Histadrut played a significant role in financing the legal defense of Abdul

Madjeid—a presumption that no one has been able to prove or refute.

In late 1934, the Criminal Court of Appeal of the Mandate authorities determined that

members in Mapai and in the Davar newspaper, including Berl Katznelson and Yitzhak Ben-

Aharon, tried to influence the court to convict Stavsky and Rosenblatt by publishing articles about

the murder.441 Such attempts were not unique to the Labor movement. Three newspapers

associated with the Revisionist movement—Doar Hayom, Hayarden and ‘Iton Meyuhad—

published articles maintaining Stavsky’s innocence. Found to be a threat to public order and an

attempt to influence the judicial process, the three newspapers were convicted of contempt of court

by the Mandate authorities and fined.442

Another person who had to deal with a predicament similar to Berl Katznelson was Dov

(Stock) Sadan who, during the murder trial was one of the editors of Davar.443 Like Katznelson,

Sadan had grave doubts about the Revisionists’ guilt. He testified to this in a private letter that was

published only in 1984. According to Sadan, in the Mapai circles there was a “concept” about the

guilt of the Revisionists despite the poor evidential material that was collected against them in the

course of the trial.444 To this, he added that “the public believed in the concept and out of this belief

the public is interested in it and even its spokespersons do not differentiate between he who could

be a candidate murderer because he blabbered the way he blabbered . . . and he who actually

441
Supreme Court Jurisdiction (SCJ) 9/34, Avraham Stavsky v. Y. Ben-Aharon, Ha-Po’el ha-Tsa’ir, B. Katznelson,
D. Melinik, and Ahdut Publication House.
442
See “Mishpat ha-‘Itonim ‘al Bizyon Bet ha-Mishpat,” Doar Hayom, July 11, 1934, 1, and “Pesak ha-Din be-
Mishpat Sheloshet ha-‘Itonim,” Doar Hayom, July 13, 1934, 1, 4.
443
Later in his life, Sadan went on to become one of the most important Hebrew literary scholars in the country.
444
Dov Sadan, “Dov Sadan Me’id bi-Khetav ‘al Haputo shel Abba Achimeir be-Farashat Retsah Arlosoroff,” Prozah
73-74 (1984): 27.
182
murdered.”445 This was a reference to the involvement in the case of the intellectual and right-wing

activist Dr. Abba Achimeir, although Sadan does not mention him by name.

Achimeir assumed a central role in the affair. Not only was he Stavsky’s roommate, he was

also a co-defendant in the murder trial. In August 1933, together with Stavsky and Rosenblatt,

Achimeir was accused of inciting Arlosoroff’s murder. To get to the bottom of this aspect of the

affair, it is necessary to give some background about the League of Thugs (Brit ha-Biryonim), in

which Achimeir assumed a leading position. Moreover, it is vital to examine the hostilities within

the Zionist movement during the years that led up to the killing. It was these tensions that

encouraged the hastiness with which Labor and the Revisionists formed their narratives about the

murder.

***

Brit ha-Biryonim, founded in 1930/1, was a group of a few dozen men and women who identified

with the maximalist faction within Jabotinsky’s Revisionist movement. Not only did they harshly

criticize Labor for its willingness to cooperate with the mandatory authorities, they objected to

other Revisionists who favored partnership with Britain. In contrast, the members of Brit ha-

Biryonim demanded that the British be driven from Palestine by force. Notwithstanding that

difference in policy, the heads of the faction demonstrated a near blind admiration to Jabotinsky.

Abba Achimeir, who was one of the leading writers in the group’s publication The People’s Front

(Hazit ha-‘Am), called him “our Il Duce.” The admiration was not mutual. Jabotinsky disliked the

extreme rhetoric used by the alliance in general and by Achimeir in particular. In May 1933, he

445
Ibid. In an interview Sadan gave in 1985 to journalist and historian Shlomo Nadkimon, Sadan argued that he was
willing to make his opinion about the murder public in 1934. He did not do that simply because the court did not call
him to testify (Shlomo Nadkimon, “Dov Sadan: Lo Shatakti,” Yediot Ahronoth, June 18, 1985).
183
warned the editors of The People’s Front that if they did not cease praising Hitler’s nationalism

he would remove them from the ranks of the movement.446 Brit ha-Biryonim’s extreme rhetoric,

however, was tempered by limited action. The group was quite small, and up to the time of the

Arlosoroff murder its members staged no more than five actions, which were mainly symbolic in

nature. These included a demonstration against the visit of the deputy British colonial minister, Sir

Thomas Drummond Shiels, and disruption of a lecture by Norman Bentwich at the Hebrew

University of Jerusalem in which Bentwich expressed pacifist opinions.447 In sum, Brit ha-

Biryonim was distinguished in the Revisionist movement by their proclivity for verbal political

incitement and limited violence against their Labor opponents. As demonstrated by historian Anita

Shapira, this phenomenon was not one sided. It was accompanied by physical and verbal violence

on the part of the Labor movement towards Revisionists, chiefly in the period after the 1929 riots

in Jerusalem.448 In this respect, the agitation that predated the elections to the 18th Zionist congress

and led to Arlosoroff’s murder was the culmination of a process that had begun in the late 1920s.

Senior figures in the Labor movement and the Histadrut, such as David Ben-Gurion, Moshe

Beilinson, and Berl Katznelson, equated Revisionism with European Fascism. Likewise, elements

in the Revisionist movement—mainly those connected to The People’s Front newspaper—lashed

out at the leadership of the Labor movement. Their targets included Arlosoroff who, like his peers

in the Labor’s leadership, was cast as a socialist who lacked a national backbone. An article

published in The People’s Front on June 16, 1933, the day of the murder, was entitled “The

446
Teveth, The Arlosoroff Murder, 49 and compare to the ISA C-7121/4, 9 and 17.
447
Anita Shapira, Land and Power: The Zionist Resort to Force, 1881-1948 (Stanford 1992), 201. For further details
about Berit Ha-Biryonim see Yosef Ahimeir and Shmuel Shatski, eds., Hinenu Sikarikim: Eduyot u-Mismakhim ‘al
Berit ha-Biryonim (Tel-Aviv 1978); Abba Achimeir, Berit Ha-Biryonim (Tel-Aviv 1972); Haim Dviri, Unforgettable
Spring Day (Tel-Aviv 1986), 55-91; and Ya’akov Orenstein, Bi-Khevalim: Mi-Zikheronotav shel Lohem (Tel-Aviv
1972), especially pages 58-62, 91-94, and 111-115.
448
Anita Shapira, “Ha-Viku’ah Be-tokh Mapai ‘al ha-Shimush be-Alimut, 1932-1935,” Ha-Tsiyonut 5 (1978): 141-
175. About the 1929 riots, see Cohen, 1929.
184
Stalin—Ben-Gurion—Hitler pact.”449 Arlosoroff was nicknamed the “Red toddler” by the author,

Yohanan Pogravinsky, and someone inclined to sign the Transfer Agreement out of greed. This

extremist tone also characterized Achimeir’s writings from his articles in the Doar ha-Yom

newspaper to his personal column “From the Notepad of a Fascist” (Mi-Pinkso shel Fashiston).450

The arrest of Achimeir in August 1933 on suspicion of inciting the murder of Arlosoroff therefore

did not come as a surprise to anyone, let alone to members of the Labor movement.

Achimeir was released from prison in May 1934, after the court acquitted him of direct

involvement in the murder. This did not, however, end his involvement in the case. In June of that

year Achimeir faced another trial together with several of his peers in Brit ha-Biryonim. The group

was accused of incitement to violence, unlawful incorporation, and propagating illegal activity.451

Unlike the first trial, Achimeir was less lucky this time around. Known as the “Strongmen Trial,”

it ended in the conviction of the accused. Achimeir received twenty-one months in prison with

hard labor, which was commuted to eighteen months of jail time “alone.” Other activists, such as

Haim Dviri and Ya’akov Orenstein, were given shorter sentences.

One of the central pieces of evidence that enabled the conviction of Achimeir was a

document he authored, probably in 1927, entitled “The Sicarii Scroll.” This document was

described during the trial as a philosophical-historical manifesto, the goal of which was to promote

terrorism.452 The name of the piece alluded to the ancient Sicarii sect—the extremist Jewish

449
A copy of the piece by Yohanan Pogravinsky is available in Teveth, The Arlosoroff Murder, 302-306.
450
The duality that characterized the League of Thugs is embodied also in the biography of Abba Achimeir. As Anita
Shapira put it, “[T]here was a certain incommensurability between Ahimeir’s [sic!] personality as a sensitive human
being, apparently unable to harm a fly, and his uninhibited message of aggressive violence” (See Shapira, Land and
Power, 202 and compare to Tom Segev, “Mi-Pinkso shel Fashiston,” Haaretz, April 20, 2012). Interestingly enough,
while Achimeir became a symbol of extreme Zionist Right, he began his political career as a socialist.
451
Mandatory Criminal Assize Case 110/34 Misdemeanor. The Attorney General V. Achimeir & Others. Also see
Ben Yerocham, The Great Libel, 206.
452
H. Ben-Meir, Retsah Arlosoroff: Homer le-Mishpat ha-Tsibur (Tel-Aviv, Ahdut, 1934), 9. According to journalist
Ben-Zion Katz, “Ben-Meir” is actually a pseudonym for a pamphlet published by the Histadrut. See Katz, Ha-Emet
185
Zealots that existed in the final days of the Second Temple period and whose members stabbed

Romans and the Jews who affiliated with them.453 The analogy was quite clear: Achimeir used the

scroll to encourage his followers in Brit ha-Biryonim to physically assault their political rivals in

the Labor movement. Claims that the scroll did not reflect his personal political belief were rejected

by the court. They were also rejected by Labor activists who continued to view him as a person

deeply involved in the Arlosoroff murder in spite of his earlier acquittal of direct involvement.

Achimeir lived in the shadow of the Arlosoroff murder until his death in 1962.

As we will see in the following pages, Achimeir’s case was not the only one which

highlighted the difficulty experienced by the Mandate court in uprooting preexisting opinions

about Arlosoroff’s death. More specifically, the final judgments in the cases of Stavsky and

Rosenblatt strengthened the preexisting opinions of Labor and Revisionist activists about the

murder. The legal truth in the case did not bring the Arlosoroff affair to an end. In fact, it

exacerbated the political rivalry between the parties.

A Legal Solution – A Political Entanglement

The murder trial of Stavsky and Rosenblatt ended on May 30, 1934, when all four judges of the

Court of Assize ruled that Rosenblatt should not be convicted due to a lack of sufficient evidence.

Stavsky, however, was convicted and sentenced to death by three of the judges.454 The court

consisted of two British, one Arab, and one Jewish judge, Moshe Valero, the only judge who voted

Kodemet la-Shalom (Tel-Aviv, Haaretz, 1934), 19 and compare to an earlier booklet by Ben-Zion Katz, Lo Ukhal le-
hahashot ‘od: ‘Al Devar Retsah Arlosoroff (Tel-Aviv, Haaretz, 1933).
453
The Roman destroyed the Second Jewish Temple of Jerusalem in 70CE. The term “Sicarii”—in Latin Sica—means
dagger. About the ancient Jewish Sicarii see Menachem Stern, “Hitabedutam shel Elazar Ben Yair ve-Anashav Bi-
Metsadah veha-Filosofiyah ha-Revi’it,” Tsiyon 47: 4 (1982), especially 387-397.
454
3/34 Criminal Assize Case: The Attorney General v. A. Stavsky, Z. Rosenblatt, A. Achimeir. Further details about
the trial are available in The Arlosoroff Murder Trial: Speeches and Relevant Documents (Jerusalem 1934).
186
to acquit.455 Valero determined that the murder was not politically motivated and that the testimony

of Simah Arlosoroff—the only eye witness to the murder who identified Stavsky and Rosenblatt

as the murderers—was unreliable. Valero criticized the identification process as the sole proof for

conviction, believing Mrs. Arlosoroff to be wrong, “though in good faith, in her evidence of the

identification of the accused.”456

Like any murder trial that ended in a conviction in Mandate Palestine, Stavsky’s case was

brought before the Court of Criminal Appeal. On July 20, 1934, the court decided to overturn the

lower court’s decision and to acquit, based on technical arguments. Significantly, the appeals court

did not found its decision on the innocence of the accused. While the judges of the appeals court

criticized the Court of Assize for a judgment that was not reasoned enough, Chief Justice Sir

Michael F. MacDonald added the following comment:

I can see no reason whatsoever for criticizing the conclusion of the Court of Assize in

accepting Mrs. Arlosoroff’s evidence, and if this case were being heard in England or in

most British dependencies, that would be the end of the appeal, and the conviction would

have to stand, but the legislature of Palestine has seen fit by Section 5 of the Law of

Evidence Amendment Ordinance 1924 to provide that no judgment shall be given in a

criminal case on the evidence of a single witness unless such evidence is admitted by the

455
About the ethnic make-up of mandatory courts in Palestine and their contribution to the formation of local Arab
and Jewish identities, see Assaf Likhovski, Law and Identity in Mandate Palestine (Chapel Hill 2005).
456
Stavsky, for example, was the only suspect whom the Mandate police presented to Simah when he was wearing a
suit; a costume that matched Simah’s preliminary testimony, according to which the murderer indeed wore a suit. It
is also unclear how Simah was able to notice during the murder that the assassin wore a dark suit with red stripes, as
the beach was totally dark. Also, when Stavsky was lined up with other suspects of the murder, one police officer
(Robert Stafford) most likely advised Simah. When the two stopped before the tenth suspect, who happened to be
Stavsky, Stafford seemingly signaled Simah that this person was the main suspect. With this in mind, Judge Valero
dismissed Simah’s testimony. He concluded that the “alibi of the accused is sufficiently established,” and “that the
prosecution has failed to prove any relevant connection between Stavsky and Rosenblatt” (The Arlosoroff Murder
Trial: Speeches and Relevant Documents, 126).
187
 accused person, or is corroborated by some other material evidence, which, in the opinion

of the Court is sufficient to establish the truth of it.457

The court, therefore, wrapped up the case in a way that acknowledged the limitations of the legal

system to do justice in the affair. In other words, it acquitted Stavsky while at the same time

assumed that he was guilty of the murder. For Revisionist activists this verdict was good enough

to prove that their political camp had had nothing to do with the murder and that Mapai and the

Labor movement in general had slandered them for no reason. Equally, Mapai leaders looked at

the verdict as an affirmation of their interpretation of the events.

On July 20, 1934, the day that Stavsky was acquitted, Davar declared in a headline:

“Stavsky has been released—his guilt recognized.”458 To make the point clearer, Mapai circulated

a pamphlet which vowed to continue the struggle to uncover the truth: “we will fight with greater

determination against the Revisionist movement and its allies who make ‘heroes’ and ‘martyrs’ of

people who bear a mark of Cain on their forehead. We will fight against ‘the sacred fallacy’ (Ha-

Kazav ha-Kadosh) and against the terrorist act of the Sicarii and the Strongmen.”459

***

We have seen that the thinking that guided the Labor and the Revisionist camps since the beginning

of the Arlosoroff affair emanated from a political struggle that had begun prior to the murder and

that continued well after it.460 The murder was a new climax in an intracommunal conflict that

457
The verdict by Chief Justice MacDonald was reprinted in a number of sources, including The Palestine Post of
July 21, 1934, 8.
458
Davar, July 20, 1934, 1.
459
A copy of the pamphlet is available in Sarid, Chosen to Govern, 376.
460
The Revisionists pulled out of the Haganah as early as 1931. Following this step they established Haganah Bet
from which the Irgun was born in 1937. In 1934 the Revisionists also left the General Federation of Laborers
(Histadrut) and founded a competing federation called the National Federation of Laborers. A year later the political
rift continued to deepen with the resignation of the Revisionists from the World Zionist Congress and the founding of
188
intensified the factionalism within the Zionist movement, as well as its fragile relations with the

mandatory authorities. The legal proceedings against Stavsky, Rosenblatt, and Brit ha-Biryonim

did not bring the affair to an end since the rival parties looked at the police investigation and the

British Mandate’s legal system not as a means of discovering the truth, but to serve the double

goal of: 1) confirming the “truth” they already knew, and 2) casting doubt on the political truth of

their opponents. The final verdict in the Stavsky case issued by the appeals court only sharpened

the gap between the indecisive legal truth of the case, and the preexisting political truths the two

parties held. The inability to conclude the case of the Arlosoroff murder by legal means in the

1930s would have a ripple effect that would reverberate for years, well after the establishment of

the State of Israel.

“The Court does not Deal with History”

Similarly to the Mandate court, the Israeli court found it difficult to deal with the Arlosoroff case.

Unlike the Mandate court, the matter was placed before the Israeli court in the form of libel cases

that were brought by Tsvi Rosenblatt. The first of these trials was adjudicated in the district court

of Tel Aviv-Jaffa towards the end of 1964.461 The case was triggered by the publication of an

article by Shaul Avigur—one of the members of the Committee of Four—in the journal Molad.462

the New Zionist Federation. The rivalry between the parties reached unprecedented heights during the 1940s,
especially during the days of the “Hunting Season” (December 1944 and February 1945). One of the symbols of this
mutual animosity, which was temporarily put on hold due to the activity of the Jewish Resistance Movement of 1945-
1946, was the attack on the arms ship Altalenah. This attack, which also claimed the life of Avraham Stavsky, brought
the young Israeli society to the verge of civil war.
461
Tel-Aviv Jaffa District Court, Civil Case (CC) 4631/64, Zvi Stavsky v. Shaul Avigur, the Israeli Labor Party, and
the editor, publisher and printer of the journal Molad. A copy of the verdict is available in ISA C-7120/1.
462
Shaul Avigur, “’Im Yehuda Arazi,” Molad 22: 193-194 (October 1964): 394-414.
189
 In the years that had followed the 1934 murder trial, Avigur continued to be close to the

Labor camp and became one of the founding fathers of the Israeli Intelligence Community. This

made Molad an appropriate platform to publish his piece since Molad was a political and literary

monthly journal owned by the ruling Mapai party. The contributors to the journal were normally

professional scholars from the field of Jewish studies and leaders who were somehow affiliated or

publically identified with Labor.

The piece by Avigur was a memoiristic column about his acquaintance with a colorful

character by the name of Yehuda Arazi (Tenenbaum) who had died some five years earlier. During

the 1940s, Avigur and Arazi worked closely together in the Haganah intelligence service. Avigur

was Arazi’s commander in a number of undercover actions to smuggle weapons and Jewish

immigrants into Palestine.463 Their acquaintance had started some two decades earlier, when Arazi

joined the Mandate police force on behalf of the Haganah. When Arlosoroff was murdered Arazi

was an officer in the criminal investigation division and knew the case well.

In the firsts two days of the police investigation Arazi was of the opinion that Arlosoroff’s

murderers were Stavsky and Rosenblatt. Later, however, he started to question this version, more

inclined to accept the view that the culprits had been Arabs. From this point on, Arazi’s time in

the Mandate police service grew shorter. He left the force in 1936, after his relations with his

supervisors deteriorated, but continued his involvement within the Haganah.464

463
About Yehuda Arazi, see Tuviyah Arazi, Be-Ruah Se’arah: Perakim mi-Hayav u-Mif’alo shel Yehuda Arazi (Tel-
Aviv 1986). A short and lucid bio of Arazi is also available in Michal Shaked, Moshe Landau: Judge (Tel-Aviv 2012),
88. For a vivid literary description of Arazi’s activity as a weapons smuggler see Ram Oren, The Target Tel-Aviv (Tel-
Aviv 2004), 75ff.
464
There are those who said that the unwillingness of Arazi’s British commanders to accept his opinion regarding the
murder was additional evidence proving their attempts to implicate the Revisionists for the murder. For more see
Joseph Broadhurst, From Vine Street to Jerusalem (London 1936), 235-236 and Tidhar, Be-Shirut ha-Moledet (1912-
1960), 407-408.
190
 As a person deeply immersed in highly secretive activity, Arazi’s actions “behind the

scenes” eluded public attention. It was in May 1955 that his name first became known publicly in

connection with the Arlosoroff affair following a closed lecture he gave at the Bnei Brith offices

in Tel-Aviv. Arazi was apparently unaware of the fact that a journalist from the right-wing

Haboker newspaper, Gershon Hel (Hendel), succeeded in sneaking into the audience. Hel wrote

down Arazi’s speech and quickly made it public.465 From a Revisionist point of view, this was a

first class scoop. Twenty-two years after the murder, a retired senior official of the Haganah had

confessed in public about the doubts he had been harboring regarding Stavsky’s and Rosenblatt’s

guilt. Menachem Begin and his peers in the Herut movement pounced on this. They deemed

Arazi’s speech as nothing less than an admission of the “truth,” which had broken a decade-long

conspiracy of silence. The day following the publication in Haboker the Herut journal announced

that “the Mapai regime was established using a blood libel, but the truth has prevailed and Mapai

must fall.”466

This was the background to the piece Shaul Avigur published in Molad and the libel suit

that came in its wake. In his article, Avigur recalled his complex relationship with Arazi, which

over the years had had its ups and downs. One tense period between them revolved around Arazi’s

connection to the Arlosoroff murder investigation. He wrote:

My colleagues and I were convinced—and I am convinced to this day—that Yehuda Arazi

made serious errors of judgment. . . In the re-creation of the details of the murder there

were and still remain several dark, hard and deadlocked corners. Nevertheless, my version

465
Haboker, June 14, 1955, and compare to Herut, June 15, 1955, June 17, June 20 and June 22. Also see the letter
Gershon Hel (Hendel) sent to the Bekhor Commission on December 25, 1983 (ISA C-7125/10). Since Hendel
published Arazi’s speech without permission, the Tel-Aviv Journalists’ Association put him on members-trial for
unethical behavior. For further details about that see the testimony Hel gave to the Bekhor Commission at ISA
7120/12, 710-726.
466
Herut, June 15, 1955, 1.
191
 is—in my own eyes—the most substantiated and the most logical based on the facts . . .

When I think about the turning point that made Yehuda changed his mind regarding the

investigation there is no doubt in my mind that he acted out of his desire, not to say sub-

consciousness desire . . . that from a Jewish patriotic point of view it is forbidden that a

Jew would be found guilty [of the murder], forbidden no matter what.467

On the one hand, Avigur did not specifically name Arlosoroff’s killers. On the other hand, the

article made it clear that he believed the killers to be Stavsky and Rosenblatt.468 Stavsky had died

in 1948, and Abba Achimeir in 1962. Thus, the only accused person who was still alive at the time

of the publication was Rosenblatt, who sued Avigur for libel. The statement of claim said that “the

direct meaning of the column [by Avigur] is that notwithstanding the acquittal of the plaintiff—

and his colleagues—from the charge of murder by the court, the truth is that he and his friend

Stavsky did in fact commit cold blooded and premeditated murder of Arlosoroff or that they took

part in the murder.”469 Rosenblatt demanded a substantial compensation of 150 thousand Israeli

lira. Avigur attempted to prevent the case from going to court by way of a letter of apology sent to

Rosenblatt. This was unsuccessful and the case was heard in April 1966.470

As opposed to other historical cases, the court was reluctant to look into such a politically

charged case that was embedded in the pre-state years.471 However, it is unclear whether the person

behind the libel case against Avigur was in fact Rosenblatt himself. There is no question that the

467
Avigur, “Together with Yehuda Arazi,” 397. Emphasis in the original.
468
Boaz, Unseen yet Always Present, 63.
469
Tel-Aviv Jaffa District Court, CC 4631/64.
470
Shaul Avigur to Zvi Rosenblatt, January 13, 1965 (ISA, C-7120/1). Rosenblatt’s reply of January 17, 1965, is
available in Joseph Nedava, ed., Zvi Rosenblatt’s Struggle for the Truth (Tel-Aviv 1986), 116-117.
471
About the versatile ways in which the Israeli Supreme Court engaged in historical affairs—first and foremost in
the 1948 War—see the piece by Daphne Barak-Erez, “Collective Memory and Judicial Legitimacy: the Historical
Narrative of the Israeli Supreme Court,” Canadian Journal of Law and Society 16 (2001): 93-112.
192
person who formally sued Avigur and his publishers was Rosenblatt. However, Rosenblatt was a

timid person traumatized by the 1934 trial. For decades thereafter, he had made his living as a

clerk in the Tel Aviv municipality and had distanced himself from anything related to the

Arlosoroff murder by using the name Tsvi Ben-Ya’akov. Much more extroverted was the lawyer

representing him in the libel case. Shmuel Tamir (Katznelson) had already proven his ability to

force courts to deal with complex historical cases predating the establishment of the state. This

includes the murder trial of Yedidiyah Segal and the case of Lohame Malkhut Yisrael.472 The best

known such case was the 1954 Greenwald trial, better known as the Kasztner trial.473 In these

trials, which generated tremendous public interest, Tamir was able to push the court to function as

historian-judge. Put another way, Tamir manipulated the court to make historical judgments

regarding historical questions, such as what did Zionist leaders know about the “final solution” as

it was taking place, and what did they do, or did not do, to rescue Jews, before these questions

were seriously investigated by historians. Hence, it seems that the plaintiff in the Avigur libel trial

was not Tsvi Rosenblatt but Shmuel Tamir. The trial was another instance of Tamir harnessing the

court for the purpose of denouncing Mapai as a movement that made political gains from a

historical wrong. It should be noted that Tamir was a former member of the paramilitary group

Irgun and a member of the Herut movement. The Arlosoroff case, which had obsessed him since

472
For details about these cases see Shmuel Tamir, Son of This Land (Tel-Aviv 2002).
473
At the heart of this celebrated trial stood the question what the Labor Zionist leadership did or did not do to save
Jews during the Holocaust. For legal and historical analyses of the Kasztner trial see Leora Bilsky, “Judging Evil in
the Trial of Kasztner,” Law and History Review 19 (spring 2001): 117-160; Pnina Lahav, Judgment in Jerusalem:
Chief Justice Simon Agranat and the Zionist Century (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London 1997), 123-125, 133-138, 142-
144; Michal Shaked, “Ha-Historiyah be-Vet ha-Mishpat u-Vet ha-Mishpat ba-Historiyah: Piske ha-Din be-Mishpat
Kasztner veha-Nerativim shel ha-Zikaron,” Alpayim 20 (2000): 36-80; Tamir, Son of This Land, 289-748 and Maoz,
“Historical Adjudication.” Detailed accounts about Kasztner’s activity during the Holocaust and the unfolding of the
Kasztner affair are available in Tom Segev, The Seventh Million: The Israelis and the Holocaust (New York 1993),
part V; Ben Hecth, Perfidy (New York 1961); Yehiam Weits, The Man Who Was Murdered Twice (Jerusalem 1995)
and Yehuda Bauer, Jews for Sale? Jewish Negotiations, 1933-1945 (New Haven 1994), 145-171.
193
childhood, in fact inspired him to become a lawyer.474 Unlike in previous cases, though, when

Tamir was able to push the court to deal with historical issues relating to the Labor movement, in

this case he was unsuccessful.

The deliberation in the courtroom of Judge Joseph Lamm, who had been a Mapai member

of the first Knesset, was brief and decisive. In the judgment delivered by the judge after one session

held on April 14, 1966, Lamm decided in favor of the plaintiff Rosenblatt. The judge added that

the article by Avigur did allude to Rosenblatt’s guilt, but qualified this by saying that the court had

no interest or capability to deal with the Arlosoroff case. According to Judge Lamm it was too

early to examine the murder:

The case at hand is related to the most painful chapter in the events that preceded the

establishment of the State of Israel, and divided its people for a generation. The court does

not deal with history, but I will not be honest with myself if I will not say that not only

should the court be prevented from doing so but also people who deem themselves as

having a sufficient opinion to make factual determination about Jewish history. Decades

should pass before the issue that shook the Jewish world in 1933 and the years that

followed, should be looked into again . . . We should all deposit this issue back to the

history that will be written decades from now.475

These words corresponded with Agranat’s judgment in the Kasztner case. That is, historical study

required a perspective of time, which enabled the historian to engage in a historical matter without

subjective sentiment.476 Lamm concluded that he was obliged to accept the Mandate court’s

474
Tamir, Son of This Land, 11-12.
475
Tel-Aviv Jaffa District Court, CC 4631/64.
476
SCJ 232/55, 2055-2058, 2083.
194
judgment as is without delving further into the case. He determined that the defendant should pay

Rosenblatt damages of 2,000 lira plus legal fees. In addition, the judge added that the ruling must

be published in one of the upcoming Molad journals, which it was.477

This closed the case. Its script, however, repeated itself several years later. In 1971, Tamir

submitted another libel case, this time in the name of Rosenblatt and two of those convicted in the

Strongmen Trial, Haim Dviri and Ya’akov Orenstein. The first and main defendant was Edwin

Samuel—the son of the first British High Commissioner to Palestine, Herbert Samuel, and a person

who had held several positions in the Mandate government. The case dealt with an excerpt that

appeared in Edwin Samuel’s memoirs, which were published in 1970. In his book, Samuel claimed

that in the early 1930s members of Brit ha-Biryonim conspired to murder him, along with Professor

Judah Magnes of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and Haim Arlosoroff.

As in the case of Avigur’s article, this excerpt that appeared both in the book and in the

Palestine Post did not specifically name Arlosoroff’s killers. Nevertheless, it did mention the fact

that Simah Arlosoroff had identified Stavsky and Rosenblatt as her husband’s killers, that the two

had been released due to the absence of corroborative evidence, and that no evidence of any Arab

plot had ever been revealed.478 Thus, the Palestine Post was added to the list of defendants which

included its editor, Todd Loria, and the Keter publishing house. According to Tamir and the three

plaintiffs, the publication proved that Samuel attributed the murder to Stavsky and Rosenblatt and

477
The verdict was published in Molad 23:208-210 (1966): 710-712.
478
Edwin Samuel, A Lifetime in Jerusalem: The Memoirs of the Second Viscount Samuel (London 1970), 137-140 and
compare to the Palestine Post (Weekend Section), June 26, 1970, 15, 24 (The Palestine Post was renamed The
Jerusalem Post in 1950). One should add here, that Edwin Samuel actually wrote about the would-be intention of Brit
ha-Biryonim to assassinate him, Magnes, and Arlosoroff in a previous book he had published in 1957. See Edwin
Samuel, A Cottage in Galilee (London 1957), 71.
195
that Brit ha-Biryonim had been involved in plotting the murder. The statement of claim was made

by way of two complaints: one criminal and one civil.479

As opposed to the first libel case that ended in a day, this time the judicial proceedings

were significantly more complex and lengthy. First, there were attempts to reach an agreed version

of Samuel’s excerpt. These efforts yielded no results.480 This led to an extensive legal debate,

which included witness testimony and discussions as to the nature of Brit ha-Biryonim and the

relationship between it and the Revisionist movement. Once these were completed, the court

determined that the defendants must answer the charges brought against them. From here on, the

road was paved to another “historic trial” from the Tamir assembly line. It was at this point,

however, that the parties reached a compromise, most likely a defense initiative. The compromise

had the defendants pay the plaintiffs compensation of 10,000 lira and issue a letter of apology,

which was published in the Jerusalem Post. According to the apology, any suspicion regarding the

involvement of the plaintiffs in the murder of Arlosoroff was “wholly unfounded,” and in order to

obviate any doubts on the matter, Samuel, the Keter Publishing House, and the Palestine Post

expressed their “profound apologies to Messers. Rosenblatt and Haim Dviri and to the families of

the late Abraham Stavsky, Abba Achimeir and Jacob Orenstein.”481

And so another legal twist in the murder trial came to an end. This highlights another

characteristic of the entire Arlosoroff affair: efforts to keep the murder in the public eye were

479
See respectively: 1) The Jerusalem Magistrate’s Court, 551/71 Zvi Rosenblatt, Ya’akov Orenstein and Haim Dviri
v. Edwin Samuel, Keter Publishing House Ltd., The Palestine Post Ltd, and Todd R. Loria, and 2) The Jerusalem
District Court, 374/71, Zvi Rosenblatt, Ya’akov Orenstein and Haim Dviri v. Edwin Samuel, Keter Publishing House
Ltd., The Palestine Post Ltd, and Todd R. Loria. One should note that Orenstein who started his political way as a
member of the League of Thugs eventually became an ardent Mapai member. After he had died, in early 1972, his
wife Nomi took his place as one of the plaintiffs in the said trials. An additional person who died during the trials was
Todd Loria.
480
See the letter attorney Tamir sent to attorney Arnold Spar on January 16, 1971 (ISA c-7120/1).
481
The Jerusalem Post, December 22, 1974.
196
exerted mainly by those who believed in the “blood libel” theory first propounded by Jabotinsky,

and who rejected outright the Labor movement’s version of events. Senior members of Labor, on

the other hand, preferred not to discuss the case in public and, in some cases, even tried to prevent

publications about it—an effort that in itself had an impact on the historiographical picture.

“Charming and Extremely Dangerous”

The book Sivan Storm by Margot Klausner was published in 1956.482 Its publication did not attract

any extraordinary attention and, retrospectively, it looks like no more than a drop in the sea of

studies about Arlosoroff’s life and death. The book has three parts. The first part documents

personal conversations the author held with Arlosoroff’s mother, Laska, in 1945. The second part

describes the last four weeks in the life of the deceased, and the third part includes a summary of

facts and documents relating to the murder. In general, the book pinned the murder on the Arabs

Abdul Madjeid and Issa Darwish, claiming they assassinated Arlosoroff by mistake while trying

to sexually attack his wife Simah. According to another argument Klausner makes in the book, the

Mandate authorities sought to clear the Arabs of guilt by obstructing the police investigation.

While this is reminiscent of the Revisionist version, Klausner was far from adopting it in full.

Besides rejecting the argument about a “blood libel” by the Labor movement, she wrote

482
Klausner, Sivan Storm. Sivan is the ninth month in the Jewish calendar and the time in the year in which Arlosoroff
was murdered. The title Sufat Sivan—literally means Turmoil in Sivan—refers to Arlosoroff’s murder and to a poem
he wrote under the same title in memory of the Jewish intellectual Micha Josef Berdyczevski. Ironically, one could
also read the poem as if Arlosoroff foresaw his death under tragic circumstances. A copy of the poem is available in
Arlosoroff, Kitve Hayim Arlozorov, Vol. VII, 68-69.
197
extensively about what she saw as the Revisionist propensity to incite terrorism prior to the murder.

Klausner paid special attention to the “Sicarii Scroll” by Achimeir.483

The reason for pausing on Klausner’s book is to focus on the background that preceded its

publication. In the beginning of the book, Klausner discusses the collecting of sources, a process

that began in 1944. The book was completed five years later and, according to Klausner, what

pushed her to publish it in the late 1940s was the death of Stavsky in June 1948.484

On July 10, 1949, Klausner sent two senior Mapai figures a personal letter: the Minister of

Education and Culture, Zalman Shazar, who would go on to become Israel’s third president, and

Foreign Minister Moshe Sharett, whom Klausner had known since the early 1930s. In the letter,

she told them of her intention to publish Sivan Storm, which was almost ready for print. She also

mentioned that the book ended with the death of Stavsky on the deck of the Altalenah, and that the

epilogue was based “only on authentic material.” This included the confession of Abdul Madjeid

and evidence about “the so-called murderers.” To clarify her intentions, Klausner added the

following:485

I am not going to make [in the book] any conclusions of my own, but my point of view

will—to put it mildly—shed a very severe doubt upon the creed, that Stavsky was

Arlosoroff’s murderer…. I think that [the Israeli] Government is strong enough just now

to fight Fascism and Fascist[s] although they might not have murdered Arlosoroff. It was

483
While Klausner presents a firm opinion regarding the identity of the Arab murders, she was fair enough to mention
that Stavsky’s alibi was not necessarily convincing and that the 1934 murder trial did not prove anything but the
“terroristic attitude” of the Revisionists. See Klausner, Sivan Storm, 162,170, 172.
484
Ibid, 175. What Klausner did not care to mention to her readers was the hardships she endured until the actual
publication eight years later. Details about this can be found in her personal archive, which is kept in the Central
Zionist archives in Jerusalem, and in material that Yosef Nedava submitted to the Bekhor Commission in the early
1980s.
485
Margot Klausner-Brandstatter to Zalman Shazar and Moshe Sharet, July 10, 1949, CZA A493-99. Klausner
authored the letter in English, which she did not fully command. To ease the reading of the letter, I corrected some
typos and grammar mistakes included in the original.
198
 anyhow their potential intention. But intention and deeds are separate. If on the other hand

one should clean the Jewish people as such from the most villain spot on its honor—to

have murdered their best man intentionally—I must confess that this is a rather great

temptation—I cannot give it up. Some of my friends suggested I write it down, those fifty

pages [about Stavsky’s innocence] and bury them somewhere ad calendars graces. I shall

not be able to do this.

The letter included several points that deserve our attention. First, Klausner compared sectors of

the Revisionist movement to European fascism. She asserted that there was an intention to murder

Arlosoroff on the part of right-wing Zionists. Yet, her research led her to a completely different

conclusion. The murderers had not come from the Right and Avraham Stavsky was definitely not

among them. Now, after the establishment of Israel, it was time to reveal the truth in the name of

national pride. And the truth, according to Klausner, was that the murder was not committed by a

Jew or Jews on political grounds but by Arabs.

Klausner vowed to publish her book even though she was advised against this by several

friends and acquaintances who were not enthusiastic to do so, claiming that the book was “very

charming and extremely dangerous.”486 With no help forthcoming from neither of them,

Klausner’s letter to Shazar and Sharett included a suggestion and a request. First, she offered to

send a copy of the manuscript to each of them so that they could form their own impression of the

research. Then she went to the heart of the matter—a request to have the book published by the

‘Am Oved publication house, a press owned by the Histadrut and directed by none other than

Shazar. Klausner stressed that she would not agree in advance to delete any part of the book that

486
See Zvi Loria to Margot Klausner, CZA A493-99 (without a date) and compare to letter Heinrich B. Zador sent to
Klausner on May 5, 195. In this letter, Zador argued that the time to publish a book about Arlosoroff has not yet come.
199
may not be agreeable to reviewers. She noted that there were people abroad who had voiced their

interest in the book’s publication. It was her desire, though, to publish it first in Israel. The letter

ended with an apologetic reservation with Klausner writing that she understood if the two did not

wish to have anything to do with the book. She further remarked that she planned to dedicate it to

Arlosoroff’s mother. This intent belied the tension that existed between Klausner and Laska

Arlosoroff, about which Klausner elaborated neither in Sivan Storm nor in her letter to Shazar and

Sharett but in an unpublished draft she wrote for the 1964 edition of her book.487

In the same year, the Arlosoroff case received renewed public interest for two reasons: 1)

the libel case against Shaul Avigur and the Molad Journal, and 2) the dubious news that an

unknown Jew who lived in the Soviet Union had confessed, uncoerced, to having killed Arlosoroff.

With this renewed interest in the murder, Klausner planned to publish a second edition of Sivan

Storm that would include a chapter detailing the problems she endured leading to the book’s

publication. In a draft of the chapter that is kept in her personal archive, Klausner gave details of

the fickle relationship she had had with the Arlosoroff family. This began in the days preceding

the murder at a time when Klausner was on friendly terms both with Simah Arlosoroff, with

Arlosoroff’s sisters, and with his mother Laska. All of them, without exception, helped Klausner

to collect oral and written material for the book. This abruptly changed when Klausner shared with

Simah Arlosoroff her conclusion that the killers were the Arabs, Abdul-Madjeid and Issa Darwish.

The rift between the two erupted following a conversation Klausner held towards the end

of 1948 or the beginning of 1949 with the police minister, Bekhor Shalom Sheetrit, who in 1933

487
Titled “16 Years Later,” a hand-written draft of the chapter is available in CZA A493-31. One should read it vis-
à-vis a letter Simah Arlosoroff sent to Menachem Begin on March 27, 1969. In this letter, Simah tells Begin about her
early acquaintance with Margot Klausner. The letter is available in Nedava, ed., Zvi Rosenblatt’s Struggle for the
Truth, 118-119.
200
had been one of the lead investigators of the Arlosoroff murder.488 According to Klausner’s

testimony, Sheetrit confided to her that during the 1930s it was clear to him that Stavsky was

innocent and that his interrogation was accompanied by a serious miscarriage of justice (which

Sheetrit did not take part in). Distressed by this sensitive information,489 Klausner shared it with

Simah and her family, who from that time on turned their backs on her. Here it should be said that

the Bekhor Commission’s attempt to corroborate Sheetrit’s alleged accusation was unproductive,

and that the evidence collected about this matter was conflicting and inconclusive.490 Nevertheless,

from the time that the relationship between Klausner and Simah Arlosoroff soured, the path to the

printing machines for Sivan Storm was fraught with difficulties. In Klausner’s opinion, the book

was boycotted even before it was printed.

Excerpts of the book were published in the Yediot Ahronoth newspaper as early as 1955.491

At the time—according to Klausner’s own testimony—she was subjected to threats not to publish

it. In an interview she gave to Yediot Ahronoth that year, she attributed the duress that was exerted

on her to parties whose names she did not mention.492 From the draft of the second edition of the

book it appears that it was actually three parties politically associated with the Labor movement.

Klausner added that, as a result, she was forced to complete the book in Holland (it was from there

that she mailed the letter to Sharett and Shazar) and not in Israel. Furthermore, upon her return to

Israel she learnt that the publisher that was supposed to publish the book (Nahum Tverski) had

488
Margot Klausner to Bekhor Shalom Sheetrit, August 1, 1965, CZA A493-31. This letter confirms that the two
indeed met in the late 1940s to discuss the Arlosoroff affair. One should note that Sheetrit was close to Mapai even
before he officially joined the party in mid-1948 (During his days in the Provisional State Council, the Provisional
Government of Israel and the first Knesset, Sheetrit represented the Sephardim and Oriental Communities). Between
1951 and 1967 Sheetrit represented Mapai in the Knesset and the government.
489
For further details about this information see Klausner, Sivan Storm, 182; Ben Yerocham, The Great Libel, 289;
Abba Achimeir, The Trial (Tel-Aviv 1968), pages 21 and 54 of the introduction by Yosef Nedava, and the historical
memorandum Nedava submitted to the Bekhor Commission, ISA 7120/5, 60-62.
490
See ISA C-7120/22 and compare to C-7120/6, 13-14.
491
See Yediot Ahronoth of July 7, 1955; July 22, July 29 and August 5.
492
Eliyahu Amikam, “Shetei Miflagot Bikshu le-Hashtikeni,” Yediot Ahronoth, July 1, 1955.
201
rescinded his agreement. Clearly, publishing Sivan Storm with ‘Am Oved was not an option. It

took six years for Klausner to find an alternate publisher. The edition that was eventually published

was not identical to the original manuscript as several parts were cut out by the translator, the

editors, and the publisher. According to another testimony before the Bekhor Commission, on

which we will elaborate later, the publisher tried to conceal the book’s very existence. 493 Given

this history, it should come as no surprise that Sivan Storm received stinging criticism within the

Mapai circles.

In a review that appeared in Davar shortly after the book’s publication, Sivan Storm was

ridiculed and described as a biographical novel “written by an author with good imagination.” The

review, published in 1956, ended with a rhetorical question about the authenticity of the material

contained in the book: “From where is all this? What is the source? What is the reference? And

from where comes the moral right to take such a large human and Jewish tragedy and to create

from it something that is so frivolous?”494 Another review which appeared several months earlier

confirmed the many obstacles Klausner faced on her way to publishing the book. The author of

the piece, who defined Klausner as “holding left leaning convictions,” commended her on her

determination to publish the book, notwithstanding the difficulties. He then sternly criticized her

for what her book did not include: an authentic depiction of the murder case.495 The piece ended

with a sarcastic tone that “welcomed” the author who was brave enough to face up to the left-wing

circles and defend the Revisionist position. This was a common notion among Labor and left-wing

activists, who were convinced that the Revisionist camp was responsible for the murder, and that

any other opinion was inappropriate.

493
ISA C-7120/5, 61.
494
D. L., “Hazon u-Metsiut,” Davar, February 2, 1956, 12.
495
A. Shamai, “Davar ve-Hipukho,” Davar, March 21, 1956, 2.
202
 It should be noted that the Labor camp’s sensitivity to the Arlosoroff affair was directed

not only to those who opposed their official version but also against those who were certain beyond

doubt that the Revisionists were responsible for the murder. A prominent example of this is the

story of the anonymous A. Margo’a, who, between 1973 and the mid-1980s, published several

articles about the affair.496 “A. Margoa” was a pseudonym of Dr. Moshe Gilboa who, in October

1983, testified before the Bekhor Commission as to the reliability and precision of Simah

Arlosoroff’s testimony. Gilboa was convinced that Stavsky and Rosenblatt were Arlosoroff’s

murderers.497 He had reached this conclusion in the early 1960s after studying the case intensely

for many years. In 1983, three days after he had testified before the Bekhor Commission, Gilboa

sent a letter to the Commission. He wrote that in the beginning of 1974 he started working for the

Labor government at the Ministry of Education and Culture, being responsible for the Israel Prize

and the approval of school books. A few years later he also assumed the position of the permanent

stand-in for the Minister of Education and Culture as chairman of the prestigious Wolf Award.498

In this capacity, Gilboa requested and received all the required approvals according to the State

Service regulations concerning the publication of journalistic and academic articles. Nevertheless,

he thought that it was best not to use his given name when writing about issues that were as

contentious as the Arlosoroff affair. This was his way of separating his official responsibilities and

his private activity, especially when he was aware of the sensitivity of the topic since the 1960s.499

496
A Cluster of some articles by A. Margoa about the Arlosoroff affair is available in ISA C-71254/43 and The Yad
Tabenkin Archives—The Research and Documentation Center of the Kibbutz Movement (hereafter: YTA) 15-2-8. I
wish to thank the sons of the late Moshe Gilboa—Dr. Meir Gilboa and Attorney Erel Gilboa—for referring me to their
father’s personal archives at the YTA.
497
The testimony of Moshe Gilboa (October 13, 1983) is available in ISA 7120/10.
498
Awarded by the State of Israel on a yearly basis, the Israel Prize is the State’s highest honor for individuals who
have made an outstanding contribution for Israeli society and culture. Details about the prize are available in:
[Link] The distinguished Wolf Foundation awards prizes to
outstanding scientists, artists and students “for achievements in the interest of mankind and friendly relations among
peoples.” For further details about the foundation see: [Link]
499
Moshe Gilboa to the Bekhor Commission, October 16, 1983, YTA 15-2-8.
203
 In his testimony before the Bekhor Commission, Gilboa spoke of the many difficulties he

faced in these years when he proposed writing about the Arlosoroff affair for his PhD dissertation.

The scholar who agreed to be his academic advisor in 1963 at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem

was none other than the renowned historian Yaacov Katz, who was willing to work with Gilboa

on the condition that he would expand the scope of his research to include years that preceded the

murder.500 Interestingly, Gilboa never wrote his dissertation on the Arlosoroff murder. He

eventually received his doctorate from Tel-Aviv University on a research topic that was somewhat

different: the role of man in Plato’s ethics.501 The explanation that Gilboa gave to the Bekhor

Commission of this drastic shift in research topics corresponds to Margot Klausner’s experience.

Gilboa maintained that his change of topics was due to the difficulties in obtaining relevant

material about the Arlosoroff affair and the sensitivity of the topic in the eyes of former Mapai

leaders.

Gilboa contended that while collecting research material for his dissertation he met with

Simah Arlosoroff several times. He found her to be “angry with the entire world and with all her

former colleagues in Mapai” who neither permitted her to publish her memoirs about the affair nor

submit a libel case against whoever doubted the reliability of her account. This oral testimony

supports similar claims raised by Simah a few years earlier.502 According to Gilboa, among those

500
ISA 7120/10, 212 and compare to the letter Gilboa sent to the Bekhor Commission on October 16, 1983 (YTA 15-
2-8). About Yaacov Katz, who was a rabbi and a sociologist by training, see his autobiography, With My Own Eyes
(Jerusalem 2007). About Katz’s contribution to the field of Zionist historiography see Anita Shapira, “Ha-
Historiografiyah shel ha-Tsiyonot u-Medinat Yisrael be-Shishim Shenot Medinah,” Zion 79 (2009): 290-291.
501
Moshe Gilboa, Mekomo shel ha-Adam ba-Etikah shel Aplaton (Tel-Aviv 1977). After his graduation from Tel-
Aviv University, Gilboa wrote about topics related to Israeli history such as Palestinian scouting and the “Lavon
Affair.”
502
ISA C-7120/10, 195 (testimony of October 13, 1983). Simah said similar things in an interview she gave to
journalist Raphael Bashan in 1973 (“Yeme Arlosoroff ha-Ahronim,” Yediot Ahronoth, September 26, 1973). One
person who confirmed that he had put pressure on Simah not to publish her book about the affair was former member
of Knesset, Berl Reptur (Labor). In the testimony Reptur gave to the Bekhor Commission in 1983 he explained that
he put pressure on Simah so she will not pour “oil on the flames” (ISA C-7120/12, 641).
204
who put pressure on Simah were David Ben-Gurion and Shaul Avigur, who argued that any

reference on her part to the murder would stir up counter vilification. When Gilboa met with the

latter sometime towards the end of the 1960s, Avigur explained to him that, out of profound

conviction of Stavsky’s and Rosenblatt’s guilt, Mapai members who dealt with the case—and

implicitly that included him—“were willing to recognize unsubstantiated evidence” that

incriminated the two Revisionists.503 During the conversation, Avigur was even willing to locate

relevant material for Gilboa that he kept “somewhere in some boxes.” When they parted, however,

Avigur “came to his senses and said that [former minister] Dov Joseph had more complete

material” as did Bekhor Sheetrit. Gilboa met with both of them but they refused to help him.

Sheetrit concluded that “all had already been said and investigated” about the murder. Dov Joseph,

with whom Gilboa met in 1969, insisted that handing over the material he had in his possession

could destabilize the national unity government and that, in any case, no research contradicted

Simah’s testimony about the guilt of the Revisionists.504 He added that the relevant material he

kept at his estate was to be transferred, upon his death, to an academic institution. “When I heard

this,” Gilboa wrote to the Bekhor Commission, “I postponed the continuation of my research (on

the Arlosoroff affair) and changed to a different PhD.”505 It should be noted that Dov Joseph

refused to cooperate with other scholars who were interested in the Arlosoroff affair, such as Yosef

Nedava and Tamar Maroz.506 Personal notes that Yosef took during the murder trial eventually

503
Moshe Gilboa to the Bekhor Commission, April 22, 1983, ISA C-7125/43, 5.
504
The thirteenth government of Israel became a national unity government, i.e. a government that combines members
of the right and left political wings, on the eve of the Six Day War (June 5, 1967). This political partnership lasted
until August 1970, when right-wing representatives chose to leave the fifteenth government.
505
ISA C-7125/43, 6 and compare to ISA 7120/10, 216-217.
506
About Dov Joseph’s refusal to cooperate with Nedava see the letter by Dov Joseph to Yosef Nedava, November
18, 1966, ISA C-7125/27 (Appendix 26 to the memorandum by Nedava). About Joseph’s refusal to cooperate with
Tamar Maroz see the testimony she gave to the Bekhor Commission in October 1983, ISA C-7120/11. Also relevant
is her piece, “Ha-Tsel ha-Aher,” Haaretz (Musaf Shevu’i), July 20, 1970, 8 and the report attorney Max Seligman
sent to the Bekhor Commission on August 24, 1983 (ISA C-7121/12).
205
reached the Bekhor Commission, which did not find in them any ground breaking facts about the

case.507

Another example of the Labor movement’s aversion to discussing the Arlosoroff murder

are found in the multi-volume history From Resistance to War (Sefer ha-Haganah). This study

focuses on the history of the Yishuv and especially on issues related to the Haganah and security

affairs. Today it is widely considered a quasi-official history of the Yishuv although it was written

from Labor’s perspective.508 It is therefore not surprising to learn that when the first volumes were

published by the Ministry of Defense, Menachem Begin, as Herut leader of the Opposition, was

outraged by what he saw as an attempt by the Mapai government to write the official history of

the state of Israel. In a Knesset discussion that took place in 1963, Begin argued that the book

belittles and distorts various chapters in Revisionist history, including that of Ze’ev Jabotinsky,

the Irgun, and ‘Olei ha-Gardom (the Gallows Martyrs).509 In other words, Begin viewed From

Resistance to War as an undemocratic attempt by Mapai to smear past and present political

adversaries by appropriating national history to the Labor camp. “Who will determine history?”

he bellowed from the Knesset podium, “[t]he Government? The Coalition? Mapai? . . . The

Ministry of Defense? Commissioned historians?”510 With these words he expressed his

dissatisfaction not against the writing of history but against the notion that a government claiming

507
ISA C-8007/10.
508
Ben-Zion Dinur, Shaul Avigur, Yitzhak Ben-Zvi, Elazar Galili, Yisrael Galili, Yehudah Slutzki, eds., From
Resistance to War (Sefer Toldot ha-Haganah), (Tel-Aviv1954-1973). Regarding the validity of Sefer ha-Haganah as
a reliable historical source see Mordechai Bar-On, The Beginning of the Israeli Historiography of the 1948 War (Israel
2001), and Cohen, 1929, 35-36. A slightly more critical approach toward the book From Resistance to War is taken
by Shapira, Ha-Historiografiyah shel ha-Tsiyonot, 292-293.
509
The term “Gallows Martyrs” denotes a group of twelve Irgun and Lehi activists who were executed by the British
Mandate authorities in 1930s and 1940s. About their mythical place in the historical heritage of the Revisionist camp,
and the Revisionist struggle to make them part of the national historical heritage of Israel see, Amir Goldstein, Heroism
and Exclusion: The “Gallows Martyrs” and Israeli Collective Memory (Tel-Aviv and Jerusalem 2011).
510
Israeli Knesset, Divre ha-Knesset (Records of the Knesset), Volume 08, December 25, 1963, 596-600.
206
to be democratic was meddling in the writing of official state history.511 How ironic that the very

same accusations were brought against him and his government some twenty years later when they

established the Bekhor Commission to investigate the Arlosoroff murder.

It should be noted that the Arlosoroff affair is featured only briefly in From Resistance to

War. While the book spans seven volumes and thousands of pages, the Arlosoroff affair gets a

mere page and a half.512 The authors declared that they could not go into all the details of the legal

investigation, besides which the case had not yet been concluded. To this they added that they had

to make due with “providing the facts as they are known.” This meant that Stavsky was convicted,

that he and Achimeir became “martyrs” of the “fascist cult,” and that the acquittal of Stavsky in

the Court of Criminal Appeal did not remove the suspicion that continued to hang over him. This

laconic description obviously goes hand in hand with the Mapai position.

The struggle for the historical truth in the Arlosoroff affair found its expression not only in

what was written about the case but also in what was not written about it. We have seen that those

who believed in the innocence of the Revisionists tried to raise public awareness of the issue by

way of libel trials and historical writings. People close to Mapai and the Haganah, on the other

hand, preferred to conceal and minimize dealing with the case by placing obstacles in the way of

511
As historian Zeev Tsahor noted, between 1948 and the mid-1960s, the research of the Yishuv period in Israel was
basically polemic by nature. Each political party, ideological camp, and post-paramilitary organization such as the
Haganah and the Irgun established a research institution that was to perpetuate and glorify its respective contribution
for the attainment of political independence. By so doing and by answering the question who established the country
through their own political lens, the rival parties tried to legitimize and present themselves as worthy of leading the
country. See Zeev Tsahor, “Historiyah ben Politika la-Akademiyah,” in Ben Ḥazon le-Reṿizyah: Me'ah Shenot
Hisṭoriyografyah Tsiyonit, ed., Yechiam Weitz (Jerusalem 1997), 209-219; Zeev Tsahor, “Toldot Medinat Yiśraẻl:
Akademiya ve-Politika,” Ḳatedrah 100,( 2001), 378-394. Scholars of the history of Zionist historiography seem to
agree with Tsahor that between 1948 and the mid-1960s the mix between ideology and history was taken for granted
in Israel by both political activists and academic historians. That said, Tsahor’s opinion that this preliminary phase in
Zionist historiography does not reach the standards of professional historiography is questionable. For further details
about this point see, Yoav Gelber, History, Memory and Propaganda (Tel-Aviv 2008), 397-401 and Shapira, Ha-
Historiyographiyah shel ha-Tsiyonut u-Medinat Yiśraẻl.
512
Dinur [Link]., From Resistance to War, Vol. II, Part I, 497-498.
207
researchers such as Klausner and Gilboa.513 In the next part of the chapter we will see that the

conflicting trends of publicizing the case by the supporters of the Revisionist position on the one

hand, and diminishing it on the part of the Labor movement on the other hand, was reflected in the

efforts to establish an investigation commission from 1934 on.

Mr. Speaker: The Topic is Justice

The burst of emotions experienced by the Yishuv upon the release of Stavsky in July 1934 led to

violence. Whereas his peers in the Revisionist camp celebrated the event in public, supporters of

Labor reacted with rage. On the day following the release, the latter interrupted a festive prayer

with Stavsky in attendance at the central synagogue of Tel-Aviv. But there were also conciliatory

voices in the Yishuv that called upon the opposing sides to set the affair behind them.

One such call appeared in the Haaretz daily newspaper following the violent prayer

meeting in Tel-Aviv. The paper demanded “in no uncertain terms that all sides, classes and parties

[in the Yishuv and abroad] disarm themselves completely,” and show national restraint.514

According to Haaretz, the murder trial was over and with it the animosity between the parties that

threatened the entire Zionist enterprise should be put to rest. Other voices pleading for a resolution

of the crisis were more qualified. They argued that a condition to internal peace within the Zionist

world was the establishment of a commission of inquiry that would continue to investigate the

affair. These requests came from the Revisionist movement and its allies, but not from the Labor

513
One should add here that although leaders of Mapai refrained from publically engaging in the murder of Arlosoroff,
the party did commemorate Arlosoroff’s life and work in a myriad of ways.
514
“Mi-Yom le-Yom,” Haaretz, July 22, 1934 and compare to “Gam ‘Haaretz’ Doresh Shevitat Neshek,” Doar ha-
Yom, July 23, 1934, 1. Both pieces fused a call for reconciliation between the right and left political wings with
criticism against the Labor camp.
208
movement. They stressed that such a commission must be non-partisan, disconnected from any

political apparatus, let alone the World Zionist Congress.

The Revisionist Zionist Alliance (RZA) made such an appeal in June 1934, even before

Stavsky was sentenced to death. Signed by Joseph Schechtman, who later became the biographer

of Jabotinsky, the call was in fact an inner call, circulated among Revisionist activists. It demanded

“cleaning the Zionist movement from all the elements that were guilty of the blood libel” by setting

up a commission of inquiry that was disconnected from the Zionist movement.515 Behind this

reservation stood the events of the 18th World Zionist Congress, which was held in Prague just a

few months earlier. The Congress ended with a victory of the Labor movement in the general

elections, which accelerated the split within the Zionist movement between Labor and the

Revisionists.516

In a resolution taken by the General Council (ha-Va’ad ha-Po’el) of the Zionist Congress

on 4 September, 1933, it was decided that an inquiry commission be established to investigate the

murder of Arlosoroff. This commission was to be manned by six senior Zionist activists, including

the director of the Jewish National Fund, Menachem Usisshkin.517 The explanation for the

resolution made it clear that the decision to set up the commission was embedded in the political

tensions that plagued the Congress and the entire Zionist movement. According to the resolution

515
Sarid, Chosen to Govern, 371.
516
The 18th World Zionist Congress was held between August 21 and September 4, 1933. The elections ended with a
triumph of the Labor camp, which won 44 percent of the votes. This result marked a substantial increase in its electoral
power since in the previous elections of 1931 it had won only 29 percent of the ballot. The question whether the
Revisionists increased their political power in the Congress is open for interpretation. On the one hand, their relative
power in the Congress decreased from 21 percent in 1931 to 14 percent in 1933. On the other hand, the absolute
number of Revisionist voters increased dramatically from 55,848 in 1931 to 95,279 in 1933. The topic is relevant
here since it touches the question whether the Arlosoroff murder enabled Labor to achieve a political hegemony as
Revisionist activists insisted. One thing that is certain about the 18 th Congress is that it increased the tension between
the Labor and the RZA.
517
The other five member who were appointed to the commission were Dr. Leo Motzkin, Selig Brodetsky, Rabbi Meir
Berlin (Bar-Ilan), Dr. Nahum Goldmann, and Dr. Victor Jacobson. Further details about the initiative to establish this
committee are available in ISA C-7121/23.
209
“there is a Zionist group in Eretz Israel [the Land of Israel] that recognizes violence as a political

means.” This statement, which pointed the finger at Brit ha-Biryonim, was qualified by saying that

“the connection between the [said] group and the Revisionist Zionist organizations” has yet to be

proven. Likewise, it cannot yet be determined whether the “Revisionist Zionist organizations had

done all it takes to remove them from the party.”518 The Revisionist call in June 1934 to create a

commission of inquiry portrayed the Congress as an additional arm of Labor which sought to

propagate a “blood libel,” by putting the blame for the murder on the Revisionist activists no matter

what. The Revisionist statement accused Congress leaders of hiring false witnesses and creating

and circulating libelous claims against the Revisionists. These accusations failed to have much

impact on Labor activists, however, and did not lead to the establishment of a commission of

inquiry.

It was not long before an additional call for launching an inquiry commission was raised,

once again, by someone who believed in the innocence of Stavsky and Rosenblatt. This time the

initiative was taken by journalist Ben-Zion Katz, who had covered the 1934 murder trial and was

himself convicted towards the end of that year for defaming one of the prosecution witnesses who

gave testimony against Stavsky.519 Katz ardently claimed that he was not acting on behalf of the

Revisionist movement but as a private person without any political bias.

In a booklet published in September 1934 entitled “Truth Precedes Peace” (Ha-Emet

Kodemet la-Shalom), Katz called for the establishment of an “Israeli, judicial and informal

committee” consisting of three to five judges. This idea was included in a part of the booklet called

518
Quoted in Ben Yerocham, The Great Libel, 123.
519
In an article Katz published in Ha-Zeman of February 23, 1934, he accused Eliyahu Tessler, who testified against
Avraham Stavsky, with perjury. By the end of a prolonged defamation case, which ended in late 1934, Katz was
required to compensate Tessler for harming his reputation. About the trial, which the Palestinian press covered widely,
see for example “Defamation Case against Ben-Zion Katz,” The Palestine Post, July 23, 1934, 5 and “Mishpat Katz
Tessler,” Davar, August 2, 1934, 3.
210
“I accuse,” a reference to the celebrated public letter written by Emil Zola during the Dreyfus

affair.520 “I know to what extent we need peace,” Katz wrote referring to the Zionist world as a

whole, “but I also know this . . . that truth precedes peace. If the truth is not determined there will

be no sustainable peace . . . without a public commission [to investigate the murder] true peace

will not arrive.” Katz, who was highly critical of the anti-Revisionist sentiment that existed in the

Congress, insisted that a commission of inquiry must be neutral. Accordingly, he dismissed the

decision of the General Council of the 18th Congress to set up a commission of inquiry.

Another individual who called for the creation of a commission of inquiry in 1934 was the

eminent historian Joseph Klausner, who was identified with the Revisionist movement.521 In an

article Klausner published in November of that year in Haaretz, he stressed that notwithstanding

their acquittal, “the guilt remains as a mark of Cain on the foreheads of the Revisionists.” It is clear

that “no peace will exist in our camp [read: the Zionist movement] as long as the belief in the guilt

of Stavsky, Rosenblatt and Achimeir is not uprooted. This uprooting could be done only by way

of a public and neutral commission of inquiry.”522 Klausner believed that a commission would

give the Revisionists full rehabilitation similar to that which was given to Captain Alfred Dreyfus

seven years after his release from Devil’s Island. Optimistic as this view may have been, it did not

lead to any actual results. Similarly to Katz’s call to set up an inquiry, Klausner’s request faced

fierce opposition by Mapai.

520
Katz, Ha-emet Kodemet la-Shalom, 21-22. An annotated English translation of J’accuse by Emil Zola (January
13, 1898) is available in Paul Mendes-Flohr and Jehuda Reinharz, eds., The Jew in the Modern World: A Documentary
History, Second Edition (Oxford and New York 1995), 351-356.
521
A lively description of Joseph Klausner and the professional price he had paid for his public identification with the
Revisionist movement is available in the autobiography by his nephew, the novelist Amos Oz, A Tale of Love and
Darkness (London 2004), chapters 8-11. For further details about Klausner’s contribution to the field of Jewish studies
see David N. Myers, Re-inventing the Jewish Past: European Jewish Intellectuals and the Zionist Return to History
(New York and Oxford 1995).
522
Joseph Klausner, “Ha-Tenai ha-Rishon le-Shalom Penimi,” Haaretz, November 8, 1934, 2. Emphasis in the
original.
211
 One op-ed that appeared in the Mapai-identified Davar posited that, based on the evidence

against the Revisionist defendants and the verdict of the appellate court, any further investigation

of the murder would be superfluous “and could put at risk the peace of the Zionist public.”523 The

authors of the article added that “if there are now voices that are demanding the renewal of the

investigation and if those voices are coming from the Revisionist camp or their allies,” then Mapai

did not see any reason to oppose this call.524 That said, the body to carry out this inquiry should be

the same commission that was elected for this purpose by the Zionist General Council.

Furthermore, this commission must be charged, according to Mapai, with an in-depth examination

of the political agitation that preceded the murder. This meant that the commission should focus

on the publications that appeared in The People’s Front and other writings of Brit ha-Biryonim.

This view was naturally rejected by Katz, who rightly argued that the article in Davar was self-

contradictory, meaning that the willingness of Mapai for a renewed investigation was nothing but

hypocritical.525

Charged as these mutual accusations might have been, they were irrelevant. After all, the

decision did not yield any real results since the commission fell apart even before it started

working. One of the reasons for this was that two out of its six members quit at an early stage—

Leo Motzkin, who passed away in November 1933, and Menachem Usisshkin, who chose to resign

from the commission under circumstances that are not fully clear.526 Katz, on the other hand,

continued to publish additional calls in favor of a non-partisan commission of inquiry. He was

adamant that if such an investigation was not carried out soon, then the guilt of the Revisionist

523
“Adrabah Te’aseh Hakirah,” Davar, November 15, 1934, 1.
524
Leaders of Mapai discussed the topic on two separate occasions. For further details about that see Ben-Gurion,
Zikhronot, Vol. II, especially 100-102 and 110-112. Also see Sarid, Chosen to Govern, 366, fn. 9.
525
Ben-Zion Katz, “Mikhtav Galui le-Ma’arekhet ‘Davar,’” Doar ha-Yom, November 25, 1934, 5.
526
Katz, Ha-Emet Kodemet la-Shalom, 29 and compare to Ben Yerocham, The Great Libel, 121-128 and Achimeir,
The Trial, 16 (of the introduction by Nedava).
212
would be assumed by future generations and historians, making it difficult to get to the truth of the

case.527

With that, the issue of establishing a commission of inquiry dissolved and disappeared for

a period of about twenty years. The next time the issue resurfaced was in the mid-1950s following

Yehuda Arazi’s lecture in the Bnei Brith headquarters. Following the closed lecture that was leaked

to the press in May 1955, Stavsky’s parents appealed to President Yitzhak Ben-Zvi for the

establishment of a commission of inquiry to look into the murder.528 The person who pushed this

case much further, however, was the leader of the Herut movement, Menachem Begin. The first

time that Begin raised the matter in the Knesset was on 29 June, 1955. In his speech, Begin

presented it as a principle issue for the cause of justice. First he mentioned Arazi’s words and the

opposition of Mapai to the idea of setting up a commission of inquiry. Later, Begin addressed the

Mapai leadership directly and wondered out loud “why would you not allow [Stavsky] to be

exonerated once and for all, for the sake of your children whom you have brought up on a terrible

blood libel?”529 These words, which did not lead to the formation of a commission, were repeated

by Begin in another Knesset session, one year later. This time it was not by way of an innocent

question but in the context of a bill for the establishment of a commission of inquiry “for the

examination of the circumstances and the allegations to do with the murder of Dr. Haim

Arlosoroff.”530 In justifying the bill, Begin again restated Arazi’s words, asserting that the Labor

movement had educated an entire generation on the blood libel, and recalled the pamphlet that was

published by Mapai on the day of Stavsky’s acquittal. Begin stressed that the heart of the matter

527
See for example Ben-Zion Katz, “Ahare Hamesh Shanim,” Hadashot, June 17, 1938. I relied on the quote from
Ahimeir, The Trial, 58 (of the introduction by Nedava).
528
Stavsky’s parents addressed President Ben-Zvi in an interview they gave to the newspaper Ha-Boker on May 17,
1955.
529
Israeli Knesset, Divre ha-Knesset (Records of the Knesset), Vol. 18, June 29, 1955, 2150.
530
Israeli Knesset, Divre ha-Knesset (Records of the Knesset), Vol. 13, June 6, 1956, 1955-1957.
213
was doing justice and therefore it made no difference that the bill was tabled twenty-two years

after the murder. “Justice,” he added “is an absolute category. It operates outside, beyond and

above time.” It was also a Jewish value according to which Jews behaved throughout history.

The government’s response to Begin’s bill was delivered by the Minister of Justice, Pinhas

Rosen (Progressives), who rejected it outright. According to Rosen, renewing the investigation

offered no public benefit and only exacerbated tensions between right and left. To this he added

that the central reason why he and the government believed that the bill should not be discussed

was the judgment in Stavsky’s case: “Mr. Stavsky was acquitted from the grave accusation of

murdering Arlosoroff and there is nothing after this acquittal. Since the acquittal no person has

had the legal or moral justification to declare Stavsky as Arlosoroff’s killer, and it matters not

whether the accused was acquitted for lack of sufficient evidence or on other grounds.” It is

tempting to read these lines as full acceptance of the judgment of the appellate court. However, it

became clear that Rosen and the government sought to bypass the crux of the matter, which was

the suspicion that stuck with Stavsky and the Revisionists after the acquittal.

Rosen claimed that the existence of the Mapai pamphlet was unknown to him. And besides,

if Stavsky felt hurt by the accusations that were raised towards him after his acquittal then he could

have sued the authors and publishers of the pamphlet. This claim, one should add, is open to legal

interpretation, or, as was pointed out by Tsvi Rosenblatt in a letter he sent to Rosen, he and Stavsky

could not sue Mapai for defamation due to the absence of a relevant tort law.531 In any event, Rosen

signed off his speech in the Knesset by saying that Begin’s proposed bill was an attempt to “bypass

fundamental legal principles by way of a temporary order.” Therefore, Rosen recommended that

531
A copy of the letter Rosenblatt sent to Minister Rosen in June 1956 is available in Nedava, ed., Zvi Rosenblatt’s
Struggle for the Truth, 112-114.
214
the proposed bill should be removed from the agenda of the plenum, which is what indeed

happened.

The topic resurfaced in the Knesset seventeen years later. This time the issue was raised on

the fortieth anniversary of the murder, which kindled a renewed public interest in the affair. 532 In

a preliminary discussion that took place in the Knesset on 10 July 1973, MK Binyamin Halevi

demanded a commission of inquiry in line with Begin’s argument.533 The appeals by Halevi and

his Likud colleagues came up against an uncompromising wall of opposition of the Labor

Alignment (the Ma’arakh) led by Golda Meir.534 On 25 July, in a discussion that included Begin

and Prime Minister Meir, the Knesset once again deliberated the issue. Begin repeated his long-

standing belief that the issue was about doing justice. This time he argued that Mapai brought up

two generations of members on the 1934 pamphlet, and that the State of Israel must exonerate

Stavsky in a way similar to the rehabilitation given to Dreyfus in France. “We knew the truth from

the first day,” he said referring to the veterans of the Revisionist movement, and called for an end

to the affair by way of a commission of inquiry. As usual his requests fell on deaf ears. The

coalition rejected the proposal outright.

Member of Knesset and former minister Haim Joseph Tsadok (Ma’arakh) explained that a

commission of inquiry was “a means for looking into a contemporary issue,” for the purpose of

developing public policy. “An event that happened forty years ago,” he added, is “a case for

532
See for example Shulamit Aloni, “Kol Ehad veha-Emet Shelo,” Yediot Ahronoth, June 15, 1973; Tamar Maroz,
“Mi Ratsah et Arlosoroff?,” Haaretz, June 8, 1973; Tamar Maroz, “Ha-Tsel ha-Aher,” Haaretz, July 20, 1973, and
Raphael Bashan, “Yeme Arlosoroff ha-Ahronim,” Yediot Ahronoth, September 26, 1973.
533
During the days of the seventh Knesset (11.17.1969-1.21.1974) Halevi represented the Herut-Liberals bulk. He
was also the former judge who in 1955 convicted Kasztner for “selling his soul to the devil”—a decision that the
Israeli Supreme Court overturned after Kasztner was murdered.
534
Israeli Knesset, Divre ha-Knesset (Records of the Knesset), Vol. 68, July 10, 1973, 3817-3820. The Ma’arakh,
which was established in January 1969, was a political alignment between Mapai and Mapam. Put differently, it was
one more incarnation of Mapai and the Israeli Labor movement.
215
historical research. If the issue is so important to Member of Knesset Begin and his colleagues—

then they should embark on a historical research, present the research to the public and the public

will read it and make up its mind.”535 Prime Minister Meir who was evidently unenthusiastic to

address the issue delivered a similar message. She stressed that according to a legal opinion

recently presented to her that “after forty years it is no longer possible to objectively research the

affair,” and to try to do so would only rekindle old political conflicts and tensions. According to

Meir, Begin and his colleges were raising the issue only for the purpose of gaining political capital

in the upcoming elections. The issue itself was a historical one as determined by Judge Lamm in

the judgment he had given in 1964.536 Meir concluded her speech by saying that the Mandate court

had acquitted the defendants and therefore there is no need to renew the investigation. At the same

time she refused to declare innocent the Revisionists who were acquitted since she well

remembered the political incitement that preceded the events of June 1933. In sum, Meir voiced

her party’s position that it had held for over forty years.

Begin’s hope of setting up a commission of inquiry seemed, at the time, more distant than

ever. But in politics, the art of the possible, one should never say never. Four years later the Likud

won the general elections for the ninth Knesset. Its victory terminated the political hegemony

Mapai had enjoyed for decades, and the gate to fulfilling the dream of setting up a commission of

inquiry was opened. To that end, Begin needed only the right opportunity to resurrect the issue.

The direct catalyst for the establishment of the Bekhor Commission in March 1982 was

provided a few years later by one of the central pillars of the Labor movement, Shimon Peres. It

happened by way of an idle conversation then Prime Minister Begin held with Peres who was

535
Israeli Knesset, Divre ha-Knesset (Records of the Knesset), Vol. 68, July 25, 1973, 4317.
536
See note 475 above.
216
known as a book lover. Begin was curious which books Peres was reading. In response, Peres

warmly recommended the recently published book by Shabtai Teveth about the Arlosoroff murder.

The Prime Minister promptly obtained a copy of the book.537 And so the snowball, which stopped

only three years later upon the conclusion of the Bekhor Commission’s work, started to roll. We

will shortly begin to expand on the content of the book, the way in which Begin read it, and the

discussion that the Israeli government conducted about it. But first, we will open a parenthesis and

make two comments. The first is an anecdote that concerns Peres’ attitude toward the Bekhor

Commission. He was, after all, the Prime Minister when the Commission held most of its sessions.

The second comment opens up a much broader topic, which is the particular role the Commission

was expected to play in the context of forging the national historical memory. As we will see, the

two issues are in fact closely related to one another.

Between History and Politics

We begin with Shimon Peres and his relation to the Bekhor Commission—a topic that in some

sense puts the cart before the horse. The Commission submitted its final report to the government

on 4 June, 1985. The prime minister at the time was none other than Peres himself. Begin had

resigned from the premiership three years earlier and retreated to his home until his death in 1992.

There are those who say that in addition to the multitude of medical conditions that characterized

the last decade of his life, Begin suffered from clinical depression. During the entire period he

avoided public appearances and made only a handful of public statements (to the best of my

537
The meeting between Prime Minister Begin and Shimon Peres has been described by Boaz Apelbaum in his book
A School for Prime Ministers: 10 Israeli Prime Ministers—The Personal Story (Tel-Aviv 2001), 49. I mention here
this book only because its author attended the said meeting in person. That said, Apelbaum’s account about other
issues related to the Bekhor Commission are full with empirical mistakes. This includes a false description of the
human makeup of the Commission. About an additional mistake the book includes see note 567 below.
217
knowledge no more than two). The first was published on the day of the publication of the Bekhor

report, which brought great joy to Begin.538 The second announcement was published in 1987 in

reaction to a lecture Ariel Sharon gave about the 1982 military engagement in Lebanon (“The First

Lebanon War”).539 The point is that the Arlosoroff affair was so important for Begin that it caused

him to break his silence. On the other hand, Prime Minister Peres objected to the investigation of

the murder from the outset. Raised in the Labor movement, Peres did not want to be associated

with the investigation. When the members of the Bekhor Commission submitted their report to

him, he curtly thanked them and barely bothered to review it.540 It was clear to him that this state

commission of inquiry was the initiative of the Revisionist outlook, which was contrary to his

political views. This leads us to the second comment, which is by far more fundamental.

At the heart of the matter stand two questions that are in fact one. First, what was the

background of Begin’s burning desire to establish an inquiry to look into the murder of Arlosoroff?

and 2) What caused the Labor movement and its leadership to object to this so vehemently? Some

claimed the Labor movement was hiding something. Earlier we presented circumstantial and

inconclusive evidence according to which certain elements in the Labor movement, including the

Committee of Four, took part in incriminating the Revisionists. This, however, tells only part of

the story.

The struggle over the design of the Israeli metanarrative—which included fundamental

questions such as which camp contributed more to the establishment of the state, who were the

Yishuv’s heroes, and who acted with a lack of political and military wisdom in the days that

538
A copy of the original announcement Begin made about the Bekhor Commission is available in JIA P-20-406. The
announcement was circulated in the Knesset by Begin’s right hand man, Dan Meridor. Also, it was published in the
daily press. See, for example, Haaretz, June 5, 1985, 1.
539
Sharon gave his talk about the Israeli military engagement in Lebanon at Tel-Aviv University on August 12, 1987.
About the talk and Begin’s reply to it see Uzi Benziman, Nothing but the Truth (Jerusalem 2002), 30.
540
“Peres: Da’ati Nishara Neged Hakirat ha-Parashah,” Haaretz, June 5, 1985, 1.
218
preceded the attainment of political sovereignty—was considered as an index that granted

legitimacy for governance.541 The issue at hand was which political legacy would become the

national legacy of the state of Israel: that of the Labor movement or that of the Revisionists? It

goes without saying that the issue of the Arlosoroff affair was a central chapter in the history of

both. This is not meant to belittle the personal concern that Jabotinsky and Begin had for Stavsky

and Rosenblatt. But the two accused were never the heart of the issue. Publicly, the significance

of their exoneration was the strengthening of the reputation of the entire Revisionist camp, and by

implication, the smearing of the Labor movement. In this sense, the Arlosoroff affair is one of a

number of cases that were a critical part of the political, legal, and historiographical conflict over

the story of the Zionist past.

Amir Goldstein’s research concerning the formation of the memory of the “Gallows

Martyrs” is a clear example of this.542 In his research, Goldstein shows on a diachronic basis how

Begin and his political allies turned a small group of Irgun and Lehi fallen fighters from heroes of

the right-wing camp to national symbols. This process began with the establishment of Israel and

reached its peak when Likud ascended to power in 1977. Goldstein’s study demonstrates that

during the first statehood years, the Gallows Martyrs were people the Labor movement (and, as a

result, the state institutions) were not willing to commemorate, let along turn into national heroes.

All this changed when Likud rose to power.

Chronologically, the history of the struggle over the place of the Revisionist legacy can be

divided into three consecutive phases.543 The first lasted between 1948 and 1963, that is, during

541
See note 511 above.
542
Goldstein, Heroism and Exclusion.
543
For further details about this tripartite division see Udi Lebel, The Road to the Pantheon: Etzel, Lehi and the
Borders of Israeli National Memory (Jerusalem 2007). It is worthwhile reading this study in conjunction with the
critique by Yechiam Weitz, “Ha-Mahtarot she-Yatsu meha-Mahteret rak be-1963,” Haaretz, October 10, 2007.
219
the years of Ben-Gurion’s premiership (with the exception of his temporary absence between

1954-1955). These years were characterized by a de-legitimization of Irgun and Lehi veterans,

who did not receive national commemoration and were presented as an obstacle to

independence.544 An example of this is the history of the Acre prison where some of the Gallows

Martyrs were executed by the British authorities. For Begin and members of the "Fighting Family,"

as veterans of both undergrounds liked to call themselves, the prison was a highly important

heritage site. The Mapai establishment, however, turned it into a home for the mentally ill.

Therefore, the commemoration of the Gallows Martyrs was done during those years in closed

quarters, such as party activities. The course of action of the Zionist Right in the field of national

commemoration was in other words overshadowed by the political hegemony of Mapai. In this

respect, the attempts to prevent an inquiry commission to look into the Arlosoroff affair were

another aspect of the exclusion of the Revisionist legacy at the national level. 545 A new phase in

how the Israeli establishment treated the history of the Revisionist movement began with the rise

of Levi Eshkol to power (Mapai). The period between 1963 and the political change of 1977 was

an interim period during which a preliminary and partial inclusion of the Revisionist heritage into

the official national memory became possible. As part of this trend, Jabotinsky’s remains were

brought to Israel from New York in 1964 (twenty four years after his death). But even then, the

prime minister avoided participating in the memorial service, a step that was a clear political

544
One means Mapai in general and Ben-Gurion in particular used to enforce the exclusion of the Revisionist heritage
from Israeli public sphere was the statist ideology of Mamlakhtiyut (Statism). About the origins and nature of Israeli
statism, see Nir Kedar, Mamlakhtiyut: David Ben-Gurion’s Civic Thought (Be’er-Sehva and Jerusalem 2009) and
Baruch Kimmerling, The Invention and Decline of Israeliness: State, Society and the Military (Berkeley, Los Angeles,
London 2001).
545
The Arlosoroff murder was not the only historical issue that some within the Herut movement demanded in the
1950s to have investigated by way of a commission of inquiry. There were at least two other times when they called
for a joint inquiry by parliamentary commissions of inquiry and historians. These were the events of the 1948 War
and the sinking of the Altalenah. These calls did not receive much attention. For more see Goldstein, Heroism and
Exclusion, 181-182 and compare to Lebel, The Road to the Pantheon, 149-150, 153-154 and 167-169.
220
statement. The third phase reached its peak during the period of Begin’s term as prime minister

(1977-1982). With this change in power, the Revisionist legacy was brought into the Israeli

pantheon through the front door. The Gallows Martyrs were recognized as fallen war combatants

and received official recognition. The prison in Acre was converted, once again, this time to a

national heritage site, and the graduates of the "Fighting Family" were honored for having made a

key contribution to the establishment of the state.546 With this trend in action the government also

acted to exonerate Stavsky and Rosenblatt, that is, to close an affair that clouded the Revisionist

historical heritage for decades. A byproduct of the process was the blurring of the lines between

the political, the legal, and the historiographical spheres. This was clearly expressed in the public

and scholarly debates that preceded the establishment of the Bekhor Commission in 1982. These

debates stand at the heart of the following section.

Stepping off the Stage—Removing a Blood Libel

The publication of Shabtai Teveth’s book about the Arlosoroff affair at the beginning of 1982

could not have been a better gift for Begin. From his perspective, it was a renewal of the blood

libel and justified setting up a commission of inquiry. Teveth was widely known as a journalist, a

playwright, and a historian. One the founding fathers of the Israeli biographic genre, he had

previously authored a comprehensive biography about Ben-Gurion and a shorter one about Moshe

Dayan.547 In addition to being a veteran journalist for the Haaretz newspaper, he had also authored

546
It seems that Begin’s death in 1992—the year in which the Labor returned to lead the country—and especially
1995, in which Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin (Labor) was assassinated by a radical Jewish rightist, inaugurated a new
phase in the battle over Israeli past. This point deserves a separate discussion, which exceeds the scope of this chapter.
More about the topic see in Vered Vinitzky-Seroussi, Yitzhak Rabin’s Assassination and the Dilemmas of Memory
(Albany 2009).
547
Shabtai Teveth, Kin’at David: Haye David Ben Gurion, Four Volumes (Jerusalem and Tel-Aviv 1976-2005) and
Shabtai Teveth, Moshe Dayan (London and Jerusalem Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1972).
221
several best-sellers concerning important affairs in the history of the country, such as the Six Day

War.548 Teveth’s book about the Arlosoroff murder was borne out of his work on the biography of

Ben-Gurion, David's Zeal (Kin'at David). While writing the biography, Teveth became aware of

the breadth of the affair and its importance in the eyes of “the old man,” as Ben-Gurion had been

known from a relatively young age. This encouraged him to author a separate study about the

murder case, which was filled with thousands of facts concerning the investigation and the murder

trial.

The book begins with the murder and the immigration to Palestine of Avraham Stavsky a

few months earlier. It ends with the release of Stavsky in 1934 and the interruption to the festive

prayer held together with him at the central synagogue of Tel-Aviv on the day following his

acquittal. A brief reference to later years is made only in the concluding chapter where Teveth

notes that over the last fifty years—that is, the fifty years between Stavsky’s release and the

publication of the book—the affair had stagnated. That was Teveth’s way of saying that the legal

process had exhausted all the evidence concerning the accused. He wrote that “in the fifty years

that have passed nothing in Arlosoroff’s past was discovered to indicate a different possible motive

for his murder other than a political one.”549 According to Teveth, that was also the opinion of

Ben-Gurion and Shaul Avigur, who, until their respective deaths, were of the unwavering opinion

that Stavsky was guilty. Last but not least, Teveth added that, as opposed to the past, Israeli (and

American) courts were now willing to convict a murderer based on the testimony of a single eye-

witness, without any corroborating evidence.

548
I mean here Shabtai Teveth, The Tanks of Tamus (New York 1969). About the tremendous impact this book has
left on Israeli young men in the late 1960s and 1970s see, for example, the book by Zvika Greengold, Zvika Force
(Ben-Shemen 2008), 44.
549
Teveth, The Arlosoroff Murder, 268, 273.
222
 The spirit of the text is clear. Teveth was anything but sympathetic to Stavsky, Achimeir,

and their peers in Brit ha-Biryonim. The book presents Stavsky as incompetent, violent, and

uneducated. Achimeir is depicted in the book as a fanatic awash with extreme ideology. Brit ha-

Biryonim, according to Teveth, were a group of thugs who reigned by terror even within the

Revisionist camp itself.550 On the other hand, Teveth describes the Labor movement and its

leadership in a positive light. According to one of the central arguments of the book, Mapai and

the Committee of Four never sought to incriminate Stavsky. The suspicion that was cast upon him

was the justified result of an objective police and judicial investigation. While Rosenblatt might

have been a victim of incrimination, Teveth rationalized his arrest by noting his activity in the

paramilitary Betar movement in the period that preceded the murder.551 In simple terms, Teveth

believed that Stavsky was guilty, supported the activity of the Committee of Four, and tried to

convince his readership that political motivation lay at the heart of the murder.

That was the impression I was left with when reading the book. That was also the

impression left decades earlier on people such as Rosenblatt, Shmuel Tamir, and the literary and

theater critic, Michal Handelsaltz. A similar reading was adopted by legal scholar Asher Maoz in

an article he wrote in 1999.552 Exactly for this reason it is important to mention that nowhere in

the book does Teveth himself declare that Stavsky murdered Arlosoroff. Moreover, Teveth

outlined in detail Stavsky and Rosenblatt’s acquittal. The book is therefore characterized by a

pronounced gap between incriminating rhetoric and content, on the one hand, and a clear statement

about the acquittal of the accused, on the other. This division is consistent with the traditional

position of Mapai from the 1930s onwards. Teveth published some clarifications about the book

550
Ibid, 11-12, 16, 41-51 and throughout the entire book.
551
Ibid, 160-63.
552
See the letter Zvi Rosenblatt sent to the editor of Haaretz, February 25, 1982, ISA C-7120/1; Michael Handelsaltz,
“Have’ahrah,” Haaretz, June 16, 1983; and Maoz, “Historical Adjudication,” 564 and 577.
223
prior to the establishment of the Bekhor Commission, as well as many years later. This was his

response to book reviews by Shmuel Tamir and Asher Maoz, who argued that Teveth accused

Stavsky of committing the murder. In response, Teveth wondered whether Tamir and Maoz even

bothered to read his book, or whether the two had read it but did not understand it. “I don’t know,”

he added sarcastically, “which of the two [options] is worse.”553

The person who surely read the book carefully was Prime Minister Begin who

corresponded with the Teveth about the book in the daily press. 554 And so it happened that in the

government meeting that took place on March 14, 1982, at the end of which it was decided to set

up the Bekhor Commission, Begin said that Teveth “is not saying that Stavsky murdered

Arlosoroff.” Moreover, Begin added that Teveth “leaves [in the book] unanswered questions as to

his innocence or guilt but that was not the issue.”555 The crux of the matter from Begin’s

perspective was the general impression the book transmitted, which, according to his reading, still

made Jabotinsky’s blood libel analogy legitimate. This, Begin demanded, must be urgently

corrected.

To strengthen his case Begin reviewed the highlights of the affair before his ministers. He

spoke about the Mapai pamphlet of 1934 and then restated the arguments he had raised in the

553
Shabtai Teveth, “Lo He’eshamti,” Haaretz (Literature Section), June 23, 1999, 2 and compare to Shabtai Teveth,
“Mishpate Tamir,” Haaretz, February 19, 1982, 14, 18. One should note that Teveth addressed the Hebrew version of
the piece by Maoz and not the English one, to which I refer above. See Asher Maoz, “Shiput History—Mishpat
Kasztner u-Va’adat ha-Hakirah be-‘Inyan Retsah Arlosoroff,” in Hiostoriyah u-Mishpat, eds., Daniel Gutwein and
Menachem Mautner (Jerusalem 1999), 442 and 452.
554
Menachem Begin, “Avraham Stavsky kefi she-Hikartiv,” Yediot Ahronoth (and Ma’ariv), February 19, 1982;
Shabtai Teveth, “Teshuvah le-Rosh ha-Memshalah,” Yediot Ahronoth, February 22, 1982; Begin, “Teshuvah li-
Teshuvato shel Teveth,” Yediot Ahronoth, February 26, 1982. Also relevant here is the piece by Moshe Ya’ari, “Be-
Shirut Ma’alile ha-Dam: Teshuvah le-Shabtai Teveth,” Be-Eretz Yisrael (125), 1982, 8.
555
The minute of the meeting the Israeli government held on March 14, 1982 is available in ISA C-7120/2 (hereafter:
“Government Protocol”). For the above mentioned quote see ibid, 6. A brief account of the meeting and the work of
the Bekhor Commission appears in Yechiam Weitz, “Shetei ha-Neshamot: Menachem Begin ke-Rosh ha-Memshalah
(1977-1983),” in From Altalenah to the Present Day: The History of a Political Movement—From Herut to Likud,
ed., Abraham Diskin (Jerusalem 2011), 219-221.
224
Knesset in 1956 in favor of establishing a commission of inquiry. In so doing, Begin displayed

familiarity with the literature connected to the murder and, especially, familiarity with books that

contradicted Mapai’s position directly or indirectly. He mentioned Klausner’s Sivan Storm, the

book written by the attorney Horace Samuel, who represented Stavsky in the murder trial, and

even Anita Shapira’s reference to the doubts voiced by Berl Katznelson about the guilt of the

accused.556 Toward the end of his speech the prime minister turned to his ministers and spoke in a

sentimental tone: “I will clearly step down from the public stage in a short while. Can I be asked

to step down and leave behind a blood libel when I have a tool to uncover the truth?”557 He

obviously meant a state commission of inquiry, which would enjoy full freedom to act as it saw

fit.

As opposed to his previous attempts to create inquiry commissions, this time around Begin

had a sympathetic audience. An absolute majority of the ministers backed him wholeheartedly, all

while recounting stories from their personal and collective biographies. Minister Ya’akov Meridor,

for example, mentioned that several hours after the murder there was an atmosphere of a pogrom

in the Yishuv, and that he, as a known Revisionist, was forced to flee his apartment. Minister Ariel

Sharon, who was only a child at the time, told how he was kicked out of school because his parents

dared to voice public support for the Revisionist position. It was only Minister Joseph Burg

(Mafdal) who was vocally apprehensive about the idea of a commission of inquiry. Burg presented

his arguments as someone who, having studied and taught history, had an interest in uncovering

the truth. “What is the fuss all about?” he wondered. “An author wrote a book. Must the

556
“Government Protocol,” 6, 7 and 17. Also see Horace, B. Samuel, Who Killed Arlosoroff: A Record of Crime in
the Mandated Territory of Palestine (n.p. 1934). About the book by Shapira see note 437 above.
556
“Government Protocol,” 18.
557
Ibid.
225
Government react?”558 What does Teveth’s book prove other than the fact that people such as Ben-

Gurion were convinced of Stavsky’s guilt? The heart of the matter was the identity of the murderers

and that remained a mystery. To this, Burg added that if the government wished to deal with this

matter then it should encourage the involvement of authors and scholars by endowing a

scholarship. To strengthen his case, he suggested that the renewed interest in the murder provoked

by a commission of inquiry would serve only to encourage discord in the nation at a tense enough

moment.559

Burg’s opinion was heard but rejected. The ministers decided that the Arlosoroff murder

was suitable for a commission of inquiry or, as Minister Haim Corfu put it: “After the Yom-Kippur

War (1973) dozens of books were published [about the war, but], can one find his way through

them? . . . From the abundance of books one cannot uncover the truth. Today [on the other hand]

there is no doubt what happened during the Yom Kippur War and no one questions that because

there was the Agranat Commission.” Corfu was giving voice to a common Israeli notion that

commissions of inquiry have the ability to function as the ultimate public historian, clarifying

matters of vital public importance, and providing a reliable, comprehensive, and lucid history

about matters of vital public importance. As I have shown elsewhere in the dissertation, the

Agranat Commission indeed left a deep imprint on Israeli collective memory and

historiography.560

558
Ibid, 10.
559
By this, Burg meant the expected evacuation of the city of Yamit, which triggered much public tension. The city
of Yamit was the biggest Israeli settlement in the Sinai Peninsula. The city was totally evacuated in April 1982 as part
of the peace agreement with Egypt (the 1979 “Camp David Agreement”).
560
“Government Protocol,” 14-15. About the great impact the Agranat Commission has left on Israeli collective
memory and historiography see the chapter “The Agranat Commission Report and the Making of Israeli Memory of
the Yom Kippur War” in this dissertation. I published a Hebrew version of the chapter in Iyunim (2013), 34-64.
226
 In the vote that followed, Begin’s proposal was accepted by a resounding majority of

eleven in favor, two abstentions, and no objections. After decades of political struggle, Begin’s

dream to establish a commission of inquiry to investigate the Arlosoroff affair was finally realized.

The implementation of the government decision, though, had to face another obstacle in the form

of a petition to the Supreme Court. Submitted by a Jerusalem attorney, Daniel Alon, the petition

related to the mandate of the commission that started with the following determination:561

(A)llegations and accusations have recently been published—some of them for the

first time—to the effect that Avraham Stavsky and Zvi Rosenblatt, or one of them,

were accomplices to the murder of Dr. Chaim Arlosoroff (The Murder of Arlosoroff

by Shabtai Teveth, Schocken Books, 1982).562

The commission’s term of reference assigned the commission to “investigate these allegations and

accusations, and submit a report to the cabinet on its findings.”

These general guidelines do not specifically state the allegations that the commission must

investigate. They also do not focus the investigation around Teveth’s book, which reignited the

interest in the affair. While the mandate put Stavsky and Rosenblatt into the spotlight, it did so by

describing them as two private individuals, not members of Revisionist organizations. The

mandate also failed to mention that the disagreement about their involvement in the murder was

divided along political lines. As we will see, these components, which were the focal point of the

Arlosoroff affair, were taken for granted by the Bekhor Commission.

Alon’s petition to the Supreme Court questioned whether the government’s decision

meddled with final judgments (Pesak Din Halut) given by the judicial authority. This claim was

561
Supreme Court Jurisdiction (SCJ) 152/82 Daniel Alon v. The Government of Israel.
562
The Bekhor Report, 1.
227
struck down by the court which ruled in August 1982 that the acquittal of Stavsky and Rosenblatt

was the final say from a public point of view. In a court session of five Supreme Court judges it

was held that “even if the Commission of Inquiry will reach a different conclusion to that which

the (Mandate) Court had reached it will not constitute inappropriate interference with a final

judgment of the judicial authority.”563

This decision was approved by all five Justices who justified it with varying argumentation.

Chief Justice Yitzhak Kahan, for example, likened the commission to a criminal judgment, which

can be re-heard at a civil or disciplinary court without calling into question the findings of the

judicial review. Chief Justice Menachem Elon explained that contrary to a court that is expected

to reach a legal truth, that is, collect evidence and draw conclusions according to strict evidence

laws, a commission of inquiry is free to undertake its investigation as it sees fit. Justice Elon

concluded by arguing that even if a commission of inquiry reached different conclusions about the

Arlosoroff case than the ones the Mandate court reached, then these “different relative truths” of

the commission and the court do “not harm one another or contradict one another, but rather

complement each other,” in a way that is characteristic of a “civilized and open society.”564 Justice

Miryam Ben-Porat highlighted a different point concerning the authority of a commission of

inquiry to look into the Arlosoroff affair. According to Ben-Porat, the pertinent question was

whether the affair was historical or contemporary. As mentioned above, the 1968 Commissions of

Inquiry Law authorized the government to establish commissions of inquiry when it appeared that

“a matter exists which is at a time of vital public importance and requires clarification.”565 This

question was posed to the government by Attorney-General Yitzhak Zamir in the session held on

563
SCJ 152/82, 449.
564
ibid, 475.
565
See note 412 above. Emphasis added.
228
March 14, 1982. Zamir warned the ministers that whoever voted in favor of setting up a

commission of inquiry must be convinced that the Stavsky and Rosenblatt case fulfilled this

condition.566 He was not convinced, at least not when Begin raised the issue before him for the

first time.567 Justice Ben-Porat, on the other hand, contended that the fifty years that had passed

since the assassination turned it into a historic event for all intents and purposes. But this, she

continued, need not prevent the government from setting up a commission, since the legal process

of the Mandate court was marred by many flaws.

After the Supreme Court ruling, a state commission of inquiry to inquire into the

assassination of Arlosoroff became a fact. Even so, the discussion about its creation was not limited

to the decisive decision handed down by the Justices. It continued to be discussed by scholars and

public figures while the work of the commission was carried out and even after it had submitted

its final report. This, and other issues that are related to the work of the Bekhor Commission, are

the subject of the next part of the chapter.

The Bekhor Commission

The obstacles on the road to the Bekhor Commission were compounded by difficulties in

appointing its members. While the authority to establish a commission of inquiry is the

government’s alone, the authority to appoint its members is given to the president of the Supreme

566
“Government Protocol,” 15.
567
See the interview Prof. Zamir gave to the Oral Documentation Project of the Menachem Begin Heritage Center on
July 24, 2001, 24 (VD-21(, 23-24. In this interview, Zamir mentioned that the first time Begin told him about the idea
to establish a commission of inquiry into the assassination of Chaim Arlosoroff—an idea that followed the publication
of a newly released book about the murder—was in 1980 or in 1981. This naïve comment, which is based on Zamir’s
memory, is most likely an empirical mistake, since the book by Teveth about the Arlosoroff murder was published
only in 1982. Unfortunately, this mistake has found its way into several studies such as the ones by Avi Shilon,
Menachem Begin: A Life (New Haven 2012), 333 and Apelbaum, A School for Prime Ministers, 49.
229
Court.568 This separation is designed to prevent the government from appointing commissioners

who serve its interests. Accordingly, one month after the formation of the Bekhor Commission,

Supreme Justice Moshe Landau appointed three people to the commission: 1) Supreme Justice

(Res.) David Bekhor who was chosen to be the commission’s chair, 2) Rabbi and theology

Professor Eliezer Berkovitz, and 3) historian Dr. Yoav Gelber, who had served as scientific

assistant to the state commission of inquiry into the Arab-Israeli War of October 1973 (The

Agranat Commission).569 Thereafter, Alon’s petition to the Supreme Court was submitted and

postponed the beginning of the investigation until August.

A further delay was the result of one of the most tragic events of the Israeli military

engagement in Lebanon (“Operation Peace for Galilee”). On September 16, 1982, Lebanese

Christian Phalangists entered the Shatilla refugee camp and later moved into the Sabra camp,

where they massacred 700 to 800 undefended Palestinian Muslims. The tragedy attracted great

public attention worldwide. Hundreds of thousands of Israeli citizens demanded that the Israeli

government set up a commission of inquiry to examine possible Israeli involvement in the

massacre. Among those calling for an inquiry was Yoav Gelber who, on 22 September, resigned

from the Bekhor Commission deeming it impossible to investigate the Arlosoroff affair while “the

Israeli Government avoids setting up a commission to look into a contemporary, painful and

sensitive event such as the massacre in Beirut.”570 That Commission, headed by Supreme Justice

568
See article 4 of the Israeli Commissions of Inquiry Law, 5729-1968. Further explanations regarding the structural
differences between state commissions of inquiry and governmental commissions of inquiry are available in Yifat
Holzman-Gazit and Ra’anan Sulitzeanu-Kenan, “Emet o Bikoret: Emun ha-tsibur be-Va'adot Hakirah ve-Shinui
'Amadot be-Yahas la-'Eru'a ha-Nehkar – Duah Va'adat Winograd ke-Mikreh Bohan.” Mishpat 'u-Mimshal 13 (2011):
225-270.
569
The letter of appointment of April 25, 1982 is available in ISA C-7120/15.
570
Yoav Gelber to Supreme Justice Dr. Yitzhak Kahan, September 22, 1982, ISA C-7120/15.
230
Kahan was eventually launched at the beginning of November.571 By the time it issued its final

report in February 1983, Gelber had lost his place on the Bekhor Commission. He was replaced

by former president of the Tel-Aviv-Jaffa district court, Judge Max Kennet, who had been a court

interpreter during the 1934 murder trial, and the chair of another state commission of inquiry,

which was set up in 1979 to examine the maintenance and management of Israeli jails. With him

on board, the process of appointing three commissioners to the Bekhor Commission was

completed. The three were later joined by a team of aides, headed by Judge Alon Gilon who served

as the Commission’s secretary and data collector. The Commission began its work at the beginning

of 1983.

Contrary to most commissions of inquiry, the Bekhor Commission operated out of Tel-

Aviv, not Jerusalem. It was hoped that this would ease the participation of two of the elderly

members—Judge Berkovitz and Judge Kennet—who did not reside in the capital, and for whom

regular commutes to the city would have been a heavy burden. This also explains why the

Commission met only twice a week. The meetings took place in an old building (“Bet Romano”)

in the heart of an industrial area surrounded by shops and workers’ restaurants. The Commission

rented half a floor in the building, and had one of the bigger rooms decorated to resemble a

courtroom.572 This was the setting for the Bekhor Commission, which from the outset was the

target of significant ridicule and contempt.

571
For details about the massacre in Sabra and Shatila and an English translation of the report by the Israeli State
Commission of Inquiry into the Events in the Refugee Camps in Beirut (The “Kahan Commission”) see The Beirut
Massacre: The Complete Kahan Commission Report with an Introduction by Abba Eban (Princeton 1983). By and
large, the Commission determined that Israel neither initiated the massacre nor participated in the killings.
Nevertheless, the Commission did make a number of far-reaching recommendations against a handful of high-ranking
state officials and military officers whose actions, and especially inaction, had enabled the catastrophe to take place.
Found personally responsible for ignoring the dangers presented by the Phalangists, Minister of Defense Ariel Sharon
was forced to resign from his post and assume the position of minister without portfolio.
572
Judge Alon Gilon, who was kind enough to talk to me about the Bekhor Commission on July 11 and August 1,
2012, was also responsible for the logistics of the committee. The three commissioners had died before I begun to
work on this chapter.
231
 Figure 7 - The Bekhor Commissions in one of its sessions

Figure 8 - The Bekhor Commission. Standing (from the left): David Bekhor, Max Kennet, Eliezer Berkovitz and Alon Gilon.
Photos are courtesy of Judge Gilon and the Israel Government Press Office. (Photographer: Gil Goldshtein)

Cain, Abel, Moses, and Arlosoroff

The original letter of appointment of the Bekhor Commission, preceding the resignation of Yoav

Gelber in September 1982, included a comment by Supreme Justice Landau agreeing to postpone

the inquiry. This was at Justice Bekhor’s request to wait until tensions, probably following the

Israeli withdrawal from the Sinai Peninsula, subsided. Both Landau and Bekhor were concerned

232
that the inquiry would trigger further unrest in an already fraught period. Retrospectively, these

concerns were anything but justified. The public reception of the Bekhor Commission included

questions about the need for the inquiry and its relevancy to 1980s Israeli affairs. Nevertheless,

the public debate about the Commission opened a window into issues of historical methodology

and the question who has, or should have, the right to make historical judgments.

In a pointed op-ed column in Haaretz, journalist Nathan Dunevic suggested that the Israeli

government might do just as well “to investigate the deeds and mishaps of the Exodus from Egypt.”

“Why,” Dunovic wondered, “had the Israelites had to wander in the desert for forty long years?

Didn’t their leaders know the way [to Canaan]?” Dunevic went on the demand, tongue in cheek,

of course, that a commission of inquiry be established immediately into the matter.573 The poet

Hayim Hefer took this point to the extreme. In a maqama he published under the title “Begin’s

Folklore,” Hefer toyed with the idea that now, after Begin had launched an inquiry into the

Arlosoroff affair, the biblical Cain might demand an investigation into the killing of Abel.574 Beth

Michael also ridiculed the government’s decision in a satirical column he published in Haaretz.

Michael fabricated a mandate to the Commission according to which it “shall inquire into the new

allegations about the Arlosoroff affair, and strive to get to its bottom, to the truth, the whole truth

and nothing but the truth. Hence, the Commission shall not rest until it finally finds out that the

murder was carried out by Abdul Madjeid, and Abdul Valid, and Abdul Hamid and Abdul

Jabid.”575 In Michael’s assessment the Commission was expected to write a Whig-style narrative—

a term that he did not explicity use in his column—which was supposed to substantiate Begin’s

573
Haaretz, March 16, 1982.
574
Yediot Ahronoth, March 27, 1982, 15. Hefer’s less than subtle insinuation was that the identity of the murderers
was self-evident, and that Stavsky and Rosenblatt were the murderers of Arlosoroff. Begin and his government, he
alleged further, were fully aware of this, and had set up the Commission with the sole purpose of making sure it cleared
the name of their political camp. Didi Manusi published a similar maqama in Yediot Ahronoth, March 19, 1982, 15.
575
Beth Michael, “Ashemim Mi-Hoser Re’ayot,” Haaretz, March 22, 1982.
233
view about the murder.576 An editorial in the daily Ma’ariv titled “What for?” followed a different

line of criticism. The newspaper protested that the government’s decision to assign a commission

of inquiry to study the Arlosoroff murder “is gratuitous for the public, for justice, and for history.

The public is currently uninterested in the political hatreds of the former generation, but rather

with the existential problems of the present.”577

Additional doubts about the Commission touched on questions of methodology. According

to one argument, while the existing evidence about the murder was already outdated and

inadmissible for a criminal trial, the Commission would be unable to obtain any new evidence.

One journalist wondered if the Commission would use a séance to question the dead. 578 Another

wondered why an Israeli commission would succeed in figuring out a murder that had taken place

half a century earlier, if an American presidential commission—the Warren Commission—had

been unable to unveil the truth behind the assassination of President Kennedy only months after

the event took place.579 Haaretz insisted that the Arlosoroff murder was a matter for historians and

not a commission of inquiry. The daily newspaper Maariv made a similar argument asserting that

history and historians were superior to commissions of inquiry. The means available to them, the

paper wrote, “are more sophisticated and more scientific than those of a commission of inquiry

that had been brought into the world with the sole object of rejecting the conclusions of a recently

published book.”580

576
See Herbert Butterfield, The Whig Interpretation of History (New York and London 1965).
577
Editorial, Maariv, March, 15, 1982.
578
Ziva Yariv, “Ha-Ve’adah Hokeret,” Yediot Ahronoth, March, 9, 1982.
579
Maariv, 16 March 1982. According to empirical data, big chunks of American society have remained skeptical
about one of the most famous conclusions the Warren Commission reached: that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone.
More about the topic see in Daniel P. Moynihan, Secrecy: The American Experience (New Haven 1998), 219-221 and
compare to Simon, “Parrhesiastic Accountability,” 1441-1442.
580
See the editorial Haaretz published on March 19, 1982, and compare to the one of Maariv, March 15, 1982.
234
 Bearing in mind that the Commission came into existence because no historian was able to

solve the mystery, this attitude seems quite ironic. The views of Maariv and Haaretz reflected the

duality in the common perception of commissions of inquiry. While commissions seemingly do

not have the professional means to get to the bottom of the historical truth as historians do, they

are expected to discover it or else they fail in their task. Historians, on the other hand, who

seemingly have the professional means to clarify historical questions, can leave them open as part

of an ongoing intellectual discourse. Philosopher Asa Kasher enhanced this argument in the

context of the Arlosoroff affair. Kasher posited that a commission such as the Bekhor Commission,

which inquired into a historical affair, blurred the boundaries between the historian, the judge, and

the commissioner.581 He argued that an inquiry such as the one with which the Bekhor Commission

had been charged jeopardized the status of the historical discipline, the court, and the principles of

justice. Further, Kasher noted that while historical research is by definition a cumulative process,

the juridical procedure strives to be final. In the case of the Arlosoroff murder, the court had

already reached a verdict. Opening the case would therefore weaken the court’s authority in the

eyes of the public.582 Some three decades after these words were put on paper they seem far from

convincing. After all, as we shall see later, the Bekhor Commission neither left a strong imprint

on Israeli historical memory nor weakened the status of the court in the eyes of Israeli citizens.583

581
One scholar who elaborated on the difference between the judge and the historian is Carlo Ginzburg. See his book
The Judge and the Historian (London and New York 1999), 118 and throughout the entire book.
582
Asa Kasher, “Ben Siman She’elah le-Siman Keriaha,” Zemanim 9 (1982): 15-19 and compare to the piece by
Shlomo Ne’eman, “Parashat Hayim Arlosoroff ke-Mashal o Ormat ha-Historiyah,” ibid, 5-14. According to historian
Yehosu’a Praver, the Bekhor Commission was assigned with the task of rewriting history for political purposes per
se. See the interview Praver gave to historian and journalist Tom Segev, “Ha-Kerav ‘al ha-Historiyah,” Haaretz,
March 26, 1982.
583
On the civil status of the Israeli Supreme Court see Gad Barzilai, Bet Ha-Mishpat ha-Elyon be-‘Ene ha-Hevrah
ha-Yisraelit (Tel-Aviv1994).
235
The Commission’s Methodology

One thing the Bekhor Commission did do was to address the criticism aimed against it. In fact, in

the introduction to their report the commissioners conceded that the murder “ought to be studied

by historians and not by a state commission of inquiry”:

The circumstances are unique because Stavsky and Rosenblatt were acquitted, but a flaw

remains, from the moral and public point of view, due to what the judges said about the

reasons for the acquittal. When historians come to deal with questions of this kind, they

examine all the material evidence that was available to the courts and the judicial

proceedings, as well as the material evidence, if such exists, which was not brought before

the court because it was legally inadmissible, along with additional material that had since

come to light. If necessary, historians will also review the totality of things in the light of

the data and worldview that prevailed during the trial, vis-à-vis those that prevail at the

time of their examination. This in fact has been the practice, to one degree or another, in

the various books and articles that have been published in the course of time on the

Arlosoroff murder affair. From the point of view of the Commissions of Inquiry Law, there

would appear to be considerable similarity between the above approach and the task of this

commission—which must try to arrive at the factual truth without being bound by the laws

of evidence and other restrictions which apply to the court.584

Besides telling us that the topic would be better studied by historians and not by themselves, the

commissioners argued that, for all intents and purposes, they were undertaking historical research.

Having read the Bekhor Report, the minutes of the public hearings the Commission held, the

584
The Bekhor Report, 3.
236
protocols of its closed deliberations and, no less importantly, a large chunk of the public, legal,

and scholarly source material about the Arlosoroff affair, I have come to the conclusion that what

the Commission actually did was to undertake a study of the history of the historiography of the

Arlosoroff murder. In other words, the Bekhor Report is a synthesis of former studies written about

the affair, along with new evidence that the Commission obtained on its own. Accordingly, the

report addresses former books and articles about the Arlosoroff murder, but does so without

making reference to any particular book, study, or article.

The Commission tried to get hold of any piece of information that had been published about

the murder since 1933. Besides reexamining the evidence that was brought to the Mandate court

in the 1930s, it collected thousands of articles published in daily newspapers, political bulletins,

academic studies, verdicts of Israeli courts, memoires, and autobiographies. Source material was

retrieved from the Central Zionist Archives, personal archives, and the Israel State Archives. The

Commission also tried to obtain source material from British archives, but these were of little help.

During the seventeen public hearings the commission held, and seven additional ones Judge Gilon

conducted by himself, the commission heard the testimonies of sixty witnesses who were familiar

with the Arlosoroff murder. Their testimonies enabled the Commission to reconstruct the legal

procedures undertaken by the Mandate court, and touch on issues that the court either ignored or

was unaware of due to the nature of the legal procedure and strict evidence laws, which a

commission of inquiry did not have to follow.

Some of the witnesses the Commission called to the stand were already in their seventies

and eighties. They were asked to tell the Commission about testimonies they gave to the British

authorities, or about other information that was relevant to the inquiry, if legally inadmissible.

Some of the witnesses asked to appear before the Commission on their own initiative. Others, on

237
the other hand, were called to testify either by the Commission or by lawyers representing the

Arlosoroff, Stavsky, and Rosenblatt families, who were fighting for their reputations. 585 The

Commission, therefore, in some sense retried the case, especially after it issued a letter of warning

to the late Simah Arlosoroff, whose testimony regarding Stavsky and Rosenblatt’s guilt was

discredited. Since some of the key witnesses were no longer alive or healthy, the Commission was

willing to hear the testimonies of their spouses and descendants who were asked to talk about their

relatives’ experiences and memories. Thus the Commission relied heavily on oral history. Many

of the witnesses were asked about their political affiliation in an attempt to make sure they were

not trying to propagate views or dismiss the narrative of one of the political camps for political

reasons.

The Bekhor Commission Report

The Bekhor Commission reached a unanimous conclusion that Stavsky and Rosenblatt did not

murder Arlosoroff. This does not mean that the Commission endorsed the Revisionist take about

the affair. First, the Commission declared that the evidence brought before it did not allow it to

determine who carried out the assassination and whether it was politically motivated. Also, the

Commission noted that by using the term “blood-libel” in the context of the Arlosoroff affair the

Revisionists had taken the term out of context in an inappropriate way. The 202-page report was

divided into three mains sections, each written by one of the commissioners.

585
The attorneys who represented the Arlosoroff family were the famed Michael Caspi, Shlomo Levron, Ehud Gera
and Yair Landau. Attorney Chaim Grossman represented the families of Avraham Stavsky and Tsvi Rosenblatt. See
the concluding comments the parties submitted to the Bekhor Commission at ISA C-7120/4 and C-7120/6,
respectively.
238
 The longest and most detailed one was the section by Justice Bekhor who found the mutual

allegations raised by Mapai and the Revisionists to be unfounded conjectures. They reflected a

natural phenomenon according to which “people are prone to believe what they want to believe,

and then they are not always scrupulous about examining the evidence.”586 Like his two

colleagues, Justice Bekhor dismissed the testimony of Simah Arlosoroff as unreliable. In a decision

that is reminiscent of the verdict Judge Valero reached in 1934, the three commissioners accepted

that Simah truly believed that the murderers of her late husband to be Stavsky and Rosenblatt, but

that this identification was deeply flawed.

There was no unanimity between Berkovitz and Kennet concerning the involvement of the

Mandate authorities in the investigation of the murder. Berkovitz questioned police conduct during

the investigation, the authorities’ intention to uncover the truth, and whether Stavsky and

Rosenblatt should ever have been put on trial.587 Judge Kennet, on the other hand, concluded that

the police had not tried to incriminate the Revisionist group Betar in the murder, even if there were

mistakes in the investigation. Kennet concluded that there was no truth to the claim made by some

of the right-wing in the Yishuv that the judges let political considerations interfere with their

adjudication. Two addition comments by Kennet related to arguments raised in Teveth’s book.

First, Kennet mentioned that according to Teveth The People’s Front newspaper significantly

contributed to the political polarization in the Yishuv. Furthermore, he claimed that

notwithstanding the serious efforts exerted by the Bekhor Commission to find new ground-

breaking- evidence about the case, it was unsuccessful in doing so. This claim goes hand-in-hand

586
The Bekhor Report, 166. Justice Bekhor made this point in the context of allegations Mapai raised against the
Revisionists. This assertion seems to also reflect his opinion regarding allegations Revisionists raised against Mapai.
In a different context, historian Doron Mendels makes a similar observation about the nature of human memory,
collective and individual. See his study Memory in Jewish, Pagan and Christian Societies of the Graeco-Roman
World: Fragmented Memory—Comprehensive Memory—Collective Memory (London and New York 2004), 34.
587
ibid, 177-183.
239
with Teveth’s assertion that the affair was, in fact, “frozen” for decades.588 This also corresponds

to the forward of the book where Teveth thanks “the judge, who wishes to remain anonymous,

who read the manuscript and commented on it.”589 The identity of this judge as Judge Kennet was

revealed towards the end of 1982, shortly after Kennet was appointed as a member of the

Commission.590 In an interview Kennet gave to the Maariv newspaper he explained that prior to

his appointment as a commissioner he informed the president of the Supreme Court about the

assistance he had provided Teveth while writing the book. He also clarified that this help had been

free of charge and that Chief Justice Kahan did not deem it a problem in appointing him to the

Commission. In retrospect, it appeared to have been a logical decision since Kennet did not attempt

to use the Commission as a means to give Teveth’s book a state commission of inquiry’s official

stamp of approval. After all, as opposed to Teveth, Kennet disqualified Simah Arlosoroff’s

testimony for being unreliable and was unconvinced that the assassination was politically

motivated.

What is History?

An additional comment in Kennet’s opinion opened a window to another central issue that loomed

over the Commission’s work: the nature of the historical discipline. More specifically, the

Commission considered how historians arrived at their contrary opinions about the murder. Also,

it pondered over history as a field of research. In the conclusion of his opinion, Kennet questioned

whether historians would ever be able to determine what the Commission could not—the identity

588
Ibid, 168-174 and compare to note 549 above.
589
Teveth, The Arlosoroff Murder, 6.
590
“Retsah Arlosoroff: Ha-Sivuv ha-Shelishi shel ha-Shofet Kennet,” Maariv, December 30, 1982.
240
of the killers. Kennet’s conclusions were wistful, believing that there was only a slim chance of

this. He criticized the historical discipline as a fenceless one, that is, a field of study exposed to

the (partial) understanding of historians who not only fail to clarify mysterious events such as the

Arlosoroff murder but, instead, increase the confusion surrounding them.591 By applying their

subjective readings of historical sources and providing interpretations that often vary from one

historian to another, historians do not always, or necessarily, clarify their research topics.

Sometimes, they muddy the waters. To strengthen his argument Kennet relied on claims brought

before the Commission orally and in writing by Professor Yosef Nedava.

In his youth, Nedava had belonged to the Betar movement, and, later, dealt with the

assassination affair for decades as a lawyer, a historian, and a publicist.592 As part of his efforts to

prove the Revisionist narrative in the 2923s, he provided legal assistance to the journalist Gershon

Hel (Hendel), who had faced an internal legal tribunal by the journalist association.593A decade

later Nedava wrote a lengthy and detailed forward to Achimeir’s book about the murder trial. In

1971, he testified on behalf of the plaintiffs in the libel case against Edwin Samuel, the Jerusalem

Post, and the Keter Publication House. Once the Bekhor Commission was setup in 1982, Nedava

was delighted, and believed it could complete its work within a very short time.594 He willingly

took the time and effort to address the Commission with the intent of proving three main points:

1) that Mapai did plot a blood libel, 2) that the murderers of Arlosoroff were Abdul Madjeid and

Issa Darwish, and 3) that it was Labor and not the Revisionists who instigated politically motivated

violence in the Yishuv during the early 1920s. Interestingly enough, the long historical

591
The Bekhor Report, 175-176 (and compare to page 3).
592
Yosef Nedava, who was a lawyer by training, had received a PhD in law from the University of London (1954)
and a PhD in History from the University of Pennsylvania (1970). For years he also taught history of Zionism at the
University of Haifa, Israel.
593
See note 465 above.
594
Ha-‘ir, April 10, 1982, 10.
241
memorandum Nedava submitted to the Bekhor Commission opened with a reflection and

relativization of a professional historian on his own craft. It is worthwhile quoting him here:

Most people believe in the illusion that history can provide judgment. To me this would

seem a fundamentally wrong assumption: history never gave judgment and historians, with

different and often contradicting world views, tend to see issues through their own unique

prism. Thus they cannot be expected to reach a consensus on any specific issue. There are

those who imagine that “the judgment of history” is a judgment handed down by “arch

angels” who sit in judgment opening all the archives that are at their disposal, carefully

examining facts and details and, in the end, resolving all questions and settling all doubts.

There is no greater lie than that. The judgment of history is like the judgment of a computer

that outputs conclusions based on the inputs fed to it by humans. It is thus clear that as facts

have different facets depending on the point of view, so do historians disagree with one

another. Not only do they not clarify difficult cases but they increase the confusion and

often cause insanity.595

These words are reminiscent of Edward Carr’s assertion that “facts speak only when the historian

calls on them.”596 Nedava raised this topic to point out that after many years of trying to uncover

the truth in the Arlosoroff affair, it was no longer important what historians wrote or will write

about it in the future. Their opinions would continue to differ no matter what. Therefore, only a

commission of inquiry, as an official state-appointed mechanism, would succeed in putting an end

595
Yosef Nedava to the Bekhor Commission, ISA C-7120/5, 1 and compare to the words of commissioners Kennet in
the Bekhor Report, 176. Nedava made this point about history and historians also in the introduction he added to The
Trial by Achimeir (62-63) and in an article he published after the Bekhor Commission had completed its work (Yoseph
Nedava, “Historiyah be-Re’yi Akum,” ibid, Between the Visions [Jerusalem 1989] 290-305).
596
Edward H. Carr, What is History? (New York 1961), 9. This point also illuminates “history’s relationship to
scientific truth, objectivity, postmodernism, and the politics of identity.” I borrowed these words from Joyce Appleby,
Lynn Hunt and Margaret Jacob, Telling the Truth about History (New York and London 1994), 10.
242
to the affair. Kennet agreed with Nedava’s opinion about historians, although, unlike Nedava, he

eventually acknowledged the Bekhor Commission’s inability to bring the affair to a close. Like

his two colleagues on the Commission, Bekhor and Berkovitz, Kennet wondered about the nature

of the historian’s craft. The background to that reveals a mini Historikerstreit ("historians'

quarrel") that occurred between Nedava and Dr. Yaacov Shavit of Tel-Aviv University.

Shavit was one of the early founders of research into the Zionist Right who submitted a

historical memo to the Bekhor Commission.597 Unlike Nedava, who submitted his memorandum

voluntarily, Shavit did so upon the request of the lawyers of the Arlosoroff family who tried to

prove to the Commission that Stavsky and Rosenblatt did murder Arlosoroff. Moreover, Shavit’s

memo was written in response to the one by Nedava.598 In it, Shavit attempted to depict a plausible

scenario whereby Arlosoroff was assassinated for political reasons by members of Brit ha-

Biryonim. Focused on the tensions that existed in the Zionist world in general and the Yishuv in

particular in the early 1930s, he wrote about Brit ha-Biryonim and the agitation that existed

between the Right and Left political wings during those years. Most important for us is the

comment Shavit made at the beginning of his statement:

The role of the historian is basically not to obtain “justice” for this or that individual, but

to draw a historical picture that is based on reliable facts, to give them, to the best of his

[or her] ability, a correct interpretation, and to try to see the picture from all its sides and

597
About Shavit’s contribution to the study of Revisionist Zionism see Goldstein, Heroism and Exclusion, 9-15. The
memorandum Shavit submitted to the Bekhor Commission is available at ISA C-7124/4.
598
About historians as expert witnesses see Theodore J. Karamanski ed. Ethics and Public History: An Anthology
(Malabar, Florida 1990), 31-44, and compare to Richard J. Evans, “History, Memory, and the Law: The Historian as
Expert Witness,” History and Theory 41:3 (October 2002): 326-45. Also see Henry Rousso, The Hunting Past:
History, Memory, and Justice in Contemporary France (Philadelphia 1998), 48-83. In his book Rousso explains why
he refused to testify as an expert witness in the trial of Maurice Papon (a Vichy civil servant who was accused in the
1990s of committing crimes against humanity).
598
Ya’akov Shavit to the Bekhor Commission, ISA C-7124/4, 2.
243
 aspects. It would appear to me that the memo the Commission received from my learned

colleague, Prof. Joseph Nedava, describes the historical event selectively, subjectively and

with an interpretation that suites a predetermined ideology. That memo cannot, in any way,

serve as a reliable analysis of historical facts and to the best of my knowledge it is

misleading.599

This harsh criticism presented Nedava’s memo as a kind of historical midrash, which puts ideology

and wishful thinking before the careful work of the historian.600 That said, even if this is indeed

the case—after all Nedava did present a one-sided position about the identity of the killers—it was

not clear from Shavit’s memo how his account was any different from that of Nedava, except for

the final conclusion it reaches. Both historians were convinced that they analyzed the topic on the

basis of reliable facts. However, both analyses were based on partial and circumstantial evidence

which did not include the only evidence required to reach a sound conclusion in the case, that is,

empirical evidence regarding the identity of Arlosoroff’s murderer. Shavit’s conclusion suggesting

that Revisionist activists plotted the murder and carried it out was no less circumstantial than the

counter conclusion Nedava propagated. Like other historians, Shavit showed that radical

Revisionists used physical and verbal violence against Labor activists, and that they were averse

to Arlosoroff. Nevertheless, he was unable to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Stavsky and

Rosenblatt carried out the murder. All we can say with certainty is that Arlosoroff was shot to

death on the beach of Tel-Aviv on the night of June 16, 1933. Any other detail associated with this

tragic event is questionable and open for circumstantial interpretation.

599
Ya’akov Shavit to the Bekhor Commission, ISA C-7124/4, 2.
600
I borrowed the term “historical midrash” from Myers, Re-inventing the Jewish Past, 121.
244
 Statements by other witnesses addressed the way in which the history of the Arlosoroff

murder was written. One of them was Shabtai Teveth, whom the Commission called to give

testimony after he had declined its demand to reveal in writing the identity of some of his

informants. More specifically, Teveth refused to reveal the identity of some people who had

assisted him in obtaining material about Rivka Feigin, who had assisted the Committee of Four in

its efforts to gather incriminating evidence against Stavsky and Rosenblatt. Correspondence

between Teveth and the Commission’s secretary, Judge Gilon, indicates that the initial request for

the Feigin sources was not the Commission’s idea but rather that of one of the attorneys who

appeared before the Commission. No doubt this was a reference to attorney Grossman, who

represented the Stavsky and Rosenblatt families.601 In his preliminary response to this demand

Teveth insisted that his book relied only on material he had been able to retrieve in public archives,

as well as secondary sources, such as newspapers and books. Although he did not have any primary

material concerning the murder investigation, he was able to obtain original notes by Feigin. He

added that he had promised the person who handed him these notes not to reveal his identity.

Following his written answer to the Commission, Teveth was subpoenaed to testify before

it. The subpoena made it clear that Teveth may also be asked about the identity of a “well known

lawyer” whom Teveth mentioned in an endnote without revealing his or her name. According to

this endnote, the lawyer heard that the assassins of Arlosoroff were Madjeid and Darwish. Attorney

Grossman was therefore interested in knowing the identity of this lawyer. This was far from

agreeable to Teveth who asked to consult with his lawyers in an effort to convince his informants

601
The correspondence between Judge Gilon and Shabtai Teveth is available at ISA C-7126/9. Also see ISA C-
7120/12, 764-765.
245
to appear before the Commission in person. These attempts were fruitless and forced Teveth to

give testimony himself.

One of the questions that attorney Grossman asked Teveth on the witness stand was

whether he had written his book as a historian or as a journalist. Grossman mentioned that Teveth

did not confine himself to the rigorous rules and conventions of professional historiography.

Although toward the end of the book there is a section that includes endnotes, this section includes

only a partial documenting of what is presented in the book. In addition, the body of the text does

not include direct references to these endnotes. It is, therefore, hard to know which endnote refers

to which part in the text. Grossman also wondered whether a historian could abstain from revealing

his human sources as if their relationship was comparable to that of a doctor and patient or clergy

and communicant.602 In response, Teveth refused to declare whether his work was journalistic or

historical writing. He maintained his refusal to reveal his sources and explained to the Commission

that the issue at hand had to do with contemporary history.

Another witness who was asked about the methodology she adopted while writing about

the Arlosoroff affair was journalist Tamar Maroz. In 1973, toward the fortieth anniversary of the

murder, Maroz had published a long and detailed investigative piece on the murder.603 In her

testimony, Maroz explained to the Commission that she spent three years working on the piece

during which she collected large amounts of archival data. She also held several meetings with

Simah Arlosoroff. Maroz insisted that at the beginning of her work she did not have a fixed opinion

on the affair. Gradually, however, she reached the conclusion that Stavsky and Rosenblatt were

not Arlosoroff’s assassins. This conclusion did not go down well with Simah Arlosoroff, who tried

602
Ibid, 767-780.
603
See note 532 above.
246
to prevent the article’s publication.604 This claim, which is reminiscent of the Margot Klausner’s

experience writing Sivan Storm, was rejected by the attorneys for the Arlosoroff family.605

Similarly to Sivan Storm, the critics of which discredited it as historical fiction, there were those

who tried to undermine Maroz’s work. In her examination, attorney Landau tried to demonstrate

that Maroz was not familiar with the material on which she relied. He also raised the possibility

that the piece by Maroz was biased and misleading. Maroz rejected these suppositions outright but

admitted that quotes in her articles were not necessarily exact quotes related to her first-hand.

According to her, this type of writing was common and acceptable in journalism, not to mention

that she did not intend to write a research paper but rather a journalistic article and no more.606 We

see that, as in the case of Teveth’s testimony, the topic at hand was the gap between academic and

popular writing. Another way to put it would be to ask the question: “in what way does a historian

write history?”

This question, which I put here in quotation mark, is not a journalistic paraphrase à la

Tamar Maroz. It is an exact quote of Commission member Berkovitz, who at a certain point was

simply confused.607 Perplexed by the large scope of oral and written evidence that was brought

before the Commission, Berkovitz addressed that question to another witness by the name of

Tzipora Feldman, a retired history teacher. In response, Feldman answered laconically that modern

history is studied according to “investigations, documents and interpretations."608 The

historiographical approach the Bekhor Commission eventually adopted took into account another

factor, that is, the lacuna in empirical data required for historical interpretation. The Commission

604
See the testimony of Tamar Maroz at ISA C-7120/11, especially 284-300.
605
Attorney Yair Landau to Judge Along Gilon, December 26, 1984, ISA C-7120/7, 6.
606
ISA C-7120/11, 286.
607
ISA C-7120/12, 600.
608
Ibid.
247
sought the objective truth about the murder through a positivistic methodological approach. In

simple terms, it tried to determine who murdered Arlosoroff. It was also humble enough to publicly

acknowledge that the evidence brought before it did not enable it to do so. In this respect, members

of the Commission differed from other historians who looked into the murder, who were not

“always meticulous about citing all the relevant facts in the proper context.”609 As this chapter

shows, this assertion is not groundless.

Post Bekhor—Postmortem

The chapter reconstructed the road that led to the setup of the Bekhor Commission, and analyzed

the way in which the Commission tried to meet its research challenge. We have seen that the course

leading to the creation of the Commission involved half a century of political, legal, and

historiographical battles. The two main narratives about the murder, Labor and Revisionist, were

formed within days after the murder and based on political interests and intuition. As a result, when

the case was taken to court, the rival parties expected the Mandate authorities to acknowledge the

“truth” that they already knew. Stavsky’s acquittal in the summer of 1934 on technical legal

grounds, that neither cleared his name nor the suspicion that hung over his political camp,

exacerbated the extant political animosity in the Yishuv. The first phase in the Arlosoroff affair

ended, then, with an ambivalent legal truth and two opposing political truths.

From this point on, the Arlosoroff affair was characterized by two counter trajectories. On

the one hand, Revisionist activists tried to put the affair on the national agenda. Conversely, senior

Labor members sought to shunt the affair aside. To that end, they tried to prevent the publication

609
The Bekhor Report, 3.
248
of studies about the murder and blocked Revisionist initiatives to set up commissions of inquiry

into the matter. When the Bekhor Commission was finally established after the Likud assumed

power, the Commission was part of a wider trend to transform the historical heritage of the

Revisionist movement into an integral part of the national historical heritage. The highest

expectation Prime Minister Begin and his government had of the Commission was to prove who

did not murder Arlosoroff (as opposed to who did murder him). Put another way, the government

hoped the Commission would acknowledge the innocence of the Revisionist camp. In this respect,

the Commission proved a total success.

On the day the Commission published its report, former Prime Minister Begin made a rare

announcement addressing the families of Stavsky, Achimeir, and Rosenblatt, who had died a few

months earlier:

Family members who are living among us read today the conclusion of the State

Commission of Inquiry that determines that those accusations [against the three] were

wrong. I pass on my greetings to them, to the members of the Jabotinsky movement and to

all our people, who always knew that the accused are innocent and repeatedly demanded

that the truth be revealed. The issue was justice. It has been done. This is a good day for

the people of Israel.610

To say the least, not everyone shared this opinion. One of the most popular daily

newspapers in Israel, Yediot Ahronoth, presented the report as a compromise, which neither

confirmed nor dismissed the main narratives about the murder. According to the newspaper, the

main loser in the report was the late Simah Arlosoroff whose reputation was severely damaged. A

610
See note 538 above.
249
similar position to that of Yediot Ahronoth was voiced on the same day by Shabtai Teveth.611 A

few days later, Teveth was more critical toward the Commission, which he claimed did not clearly

differentiate between the diverse pieces of evidence that had been brought before it, failing to give

them the correct weight.612 Teveth also posited that the Bekhor Report included empirical

mistakes. One additional point Teveth stressed was that it is not at all clear whether the

Commission functioned as a legal instrument or as a body that sought to write official Israeli

history.

A different kind of criticism against the Commission was voiced by Joseph Nedava and

the Arlosoroff family, who were extremely disappointed by the Commission, though for opposite

reasons. Nedava was of the opinion that the Commission had missed an opportunity as it had

enough evidence to name the murderers as Abdul Madjeid and Issa Darwish.613 Unlike Nedava,

Saul Arlosoroff, the deceased’s son, insisted that his father’s assassins were Stavsky and

Rosenblatt. The junior Arlosoroff further remarked that the Commission should not have been

established in the first place since it had come into the world for political reasons and not in order

to discover the truth.614

As this chapter has demonstrated, this assertion includes more than a grain of truth. After

all, the fight for the historical truth in the Arlosoroff affair had been largely political from day one.

Precisely for that reason, people like Saul Arlosoroff who dismissed the legitimacy of the Bekhor

611
Shabtai Teveth, “Du’ah Pesharah,” Yediot Ahronoth, June 5, 1985 and compare to the interview Teveth gave to
the Israeli Broadcast Association on June 4, 1985.
612
Shabtai Teveth, “Va’adat Arlosoroff—Lo Sof Pasuk,” Yediot Ahronoth, June 7, 1985. Interestingly enough, years
after Teveth had published this piece, he changed his mind, and presented the Commission in a positive light. More
specifically, Teveth argued that the Commission ratified one of his main claims, according to which “Avraham
Stavsky was suspected of the murder following a police investigation that started without political party involvement
and pressure, but that Tsvi Rosenblatt was a victim of a Mapai libel.” (Shabtai Teveth, “Lo He’eshamti,” Haaretz
(Literature Section), June 23, 1999, 2.
613
Yosef Nedava, “ “Ha-Ta’alumah” she-lo Pu’ankhah,”Yediot Ahronoth, June 9, 1985, 15.
614
See Davar, June 5, 1985, and compare to the interview Saul Arlosoroff gave to journalist Ayelet Negev in 1993
(“Arlosoroff Hozer ha-Baitah,” Yediot Ahronoth (7 Days Section), June 11, 1993.
250
Commission should be reminded, that the attempts to prevent the establishment of the Commission

were also political in nature. What made the Arlosoroff murder into the Arlosoroff affair was the

political controversy that split the Yishuv. Any attempt to ignore the political aspect of the affair is

therefore doomed to failure.

From a legal point of view, the work of the Bekhor Commission was quite different from

any other legal proceeding that was engaged in the case. While the Mandate court followed strict

criminal laws, the Commission was free to undertake its investigation as it saw fit. This

fundamental difference in the methodologies adopted by the Commission and the court

respectively was, however, irrelevant when it came to their final judgments. Both of them reached

the conclusion that Stavsky and Rosenblatt were innocent. What set the court and the Commission

apart from each other was the way they presented this conclusion. While the court announced it in

two conflicting voices, which left a dark shadow on the reputation of Stavsky and his Revisionist

peers, the Commission was much more decisive in its willingness to declare the Arlosoroff case

as insoluble. What the Commission was unwilling to rule on was the identity of the murderers. In

this respect, the Commission did not complete its work and left the affair open. This also made it

different from laymen and historians dealing with the case who reached unequivocal conclusions

regarding the identity of the assassins, although they did so on partial and circumstantial evidence.

The inability of the Bekhor Commission to determine positively who murdered

Arlosoroff—inablity that was the result of deficienty in unequivocal empirical evidence—should

not be held against it. In fact, the willingness of the Commission to acknowledge this failure in

public represented a responsible and balanced historiographical approach, which stood in

contradiction to unfounded explanations about the murder, such as the “Nazi theory” or the

involvement of the PCP. One of the catalysts that brought about the Bekhor Commission in the

251
first place was a historiographical lacuna of which the Commission was fully aware. The

Commission’s archive includes a myriad of primary and secondary sources, written and oral alike,

which the Commission integrated into its report. Comprehensive as this archive is, it does not

include clear-cut evidence regarding the fundamental question of who murdered Arlosoroff.

When the Bekhor Commission was set up in 1982, the Arlosoroff murder was far from

being a burning topic on the Israeli public agenda. Nevertheless, for Begin, for veterans of the

Revisionist movement, and for their generation, the murder was unfinished business. In light of

former unsuccessful attempts to clarify the matter by legal, political, and historiographical means,

a state commission of inquiry was the last resort to reach a consensual solution to the murder. In

this respect, the Commission performed a highly important social function, which touched on the

way a national society deals in matters of urgent public interest. The Commission nuanced and

brought down to earth a number of important questions that could not, and should not, be reduced

to single, one-dimensional answers. When, for example, does an event become a historical event?

What is the difference between various kinds of truth, such as legal truth, political truth, factual

truth, and historical truth? How do historians write history and who has, or should have, the right

to make historical judgments on matters deemed to be of vital public importance? These questions

are normally confined to the philosophy of history. The establishment of the Bekhor Commission

brought them to the center of the public arena. While the Commission functioned as an arbiter of

history, and studied the history of the historiography of the murder, it did not have an enduring

impact on Israeli historical memory, as Begin and his ministers had hoped.

252
Epilogue

It’s been and gone.

It’s been, so it’s gone.
In the same irreversible order,
For such is the rule of this foregone game.
A trite conclusion, not worth writing
if it weren’t an unquestionable fact,
a fact for ever and ever,
for the whole cosmos, as it is and will be,
that something really was
until it was gone,
even the fact
that today you had a side of fries.
(Wisława Szymborska, Metaphysics)

Almost three decades have passed since the Bekhor Commission completed its work.

During this time Begin stepped off the political stage as he said he would. The Bekhor Report is

stored in the Israeli State Archives where it belongs, and the Arlosoroff murder, let alone the

Bekhor Commission, has received little public and scholarly attention. 615 Arlosoroff’s historical

image is present today in the Israeli public sphere as almost every city in the country has a street

named after him. But the murder that traumatized an entire generation eighty years ago looks today

like a marginal event in Israeli history, which is full of other agonies and ordeals. In the past, as

the editors of the book From Resistance to War rightly noted, “the Yishuv was split about the

[Arlosoroff] case between those who believed in the guilt of Stavsky and those who believed he

was innocent.”616 One can guess that only a handful of people who regularly walk down Arlosoroff

Street in Tel-Aviv, for example, or live in Kiryat Chaim or Kefar Chaim that are named after

Arlosoroff, have a firm opinion about the murder. Nevertheless, the Arlosoroff affair points to a

615
Like in the past, the Arlosoroff murder has attracted in the 2000s mainly the attention of people who seem to
propagate the Revisionist take about the murder. Such studies would be, for example, the one by Menachem Sarid,
“Mif’al Hantsahat Arlosoroff: Le’an Halkhu Kaspe Ha-Terumot,” Ha-Umah 148 (2002): 78-89 and Menachem Sarid,
“‘Ha-Va’adah’ shel Mapai ve-Takhsiseyah ba-Hakiraht Retsah Arlosoroff,” Ha-Umah 152 (2003): 55-69. The
Jabotinsky Institute in Israel, which publishes the journal Ha-Umah has paid a special attention to the affair. In 2013,
the eightieth anniversary of the murder, the institute organized a number of events about the murder.
616
Dinur et al., From Resistance to War, Vol. II, Part I, 497.
253
significant phenomenon, that memory, individual and collective, has a life of its own. It becomes

history, without the need to explore it further or affirm its validity.

A recent example of that in the context of the Arlosoroff murder is a report aired on Israeli

television in 2012. The report, which presented the Arlosoroff murder as an unsolved mystery,

included interviews with people who insisted they knew who committed the murder. One of the

persons who participated in the show was historian Zeev Tsahor, who was formerly David Ben-

Gurion’s personal assistant. Having been asked whether he took Simah Arlosoroff’s testimony at

face value, Tsahor referred to Ben-Gurion, who used to say that he fully believed Simah

Arlosoroff. When Ben-Gurion “believed in something,” Tsahor added as someone who knows the

scene, “one could see [it]. And I believe him.”617 Similar words were voiced by Saul Arlosoroff,

who was in his eighties when the show was broadcast. Arlosoroff spoke out against the Bekhor

Commission, which according to him had unjustly sullied his mother. Immediately after him a

person by the name of Yossi Regev was interviewed. Regev ardently claimed that he had heard

the truth about the affair from his mother who had been a member of Brit ha-Biryonim and who

had an “obsession for truth.” According to that truth, Arlosoroff’s assassins were Abdul Madjeid

and Issa Darwish.618 Regev summed up by saying that “you have here Saul Arlosoroff who heard

the truth from his mother and Yossi Regev who heard it from his [mother]. One of the two mothers

is lying.”

Since these harsh words were aired two years had passed.

As of yet, no state commission of inquiry has been established to look into this troubling issue.

617
See episode 14 in the first season of the series Ha-Kesher Ha-Yisraeli. The show is available online at:
[Link] (last visited on April 13,
2014).
618
Ibid and compare to the blog Yossi Regev posted online at:
[Link] (last visited on April 13, 2014).
254
Conclusion

Past events that once occurred, their constructed re-description in written form

(historiography), and the way people affirm and hold them in memory, have the potency of serving

a wide array of psychological, social and political functions. Joyce Appleby, Lynn Hunt, and

Margaret Jacob have made this point clearly:

History fulfills a fundamental human need by reconstituting memory. Memory sustains

consciousness of living in the stream of time, and the amour propre of human beings cries

out for the knowledge of their place in that stream . . . It is exactly the psychological

potency of written history that makes it so important to nations. Just as memory in all its

visible and invisible forms sustains personal identity, so national memory, kept alive

through history, confers a group identity upon a people, turning association into solidarity

or legitimating the coercive authority of the state.619

In simple terms—history matters. History is not just things that happened in the past. It is our

ongoing dialogue with it—in and beyond the ivory tower. This notion stands at the basis of this

study, which focuses on the ways in which Israeli society—a society characterized by an acute

historical consciousness—has grappled with a number of significant national traumas.

Commissions of inquiry constitute an important mechanism in the ability of Israeli society,

and many other countries, to process national traumas. These official state-bodies blur the

boundaries between the political, the legal and the administrative realms, and open a vista into the

nexus between history and memory. The formation of a historical narrative is part and parcel of

any inquiry. The mandate commissions receive to draw conclusions and sometimes even to make

619
Joyce Appleby, Lynn Hunt and Margaret Jacob, Telling The Truth About History (New York 1994), 258 and 270.
255
operational and personal recommendations on the basis of their findings, turn their inquiries into

a historical tribunal of a particular kind. Commissions of inquiry therefore constitute part of a

global trend that we might call the “legalization of history"—a phenomenon that has especially

increased after World War II—in which national and international tribunals, inquire into historical

events. In this regard, commissions fulfill a function of historical judge, for which judgment is

based fundamentally on a historical narrative, and for which the aim of historical narrativization

is historical judgment. This casts commissions of inquiry in the position of a public historian of a

unique kind which, unlike a professional historian, is by definition expected not to refrain from

making ethical and legal judgments, but rather to stress judgment, which is in the final analysis the

underpinning motivation for the historical inquiry.

Moreover, since commissions of inquiry operate in the context of a vibrant political

discourse, they provide an illuminating vantage point to explore processes of collective memory

formation, and struggles over national historical memory. On paper, the work of ad hoc

commissions ends when they issue their final reports. In practice, however, the historical narratives

commissions author have the potential of resonating within the public sphere also in the years that

follow. This poses the question whether commissions are effective means in forging collective

memory. At the basis of the frequent calls by Israeli citizens and office holders to establish

inquiries stands the notion that commission do have the ability to shape conventional views

regarding matters of vital public importance. This study demonstrates that this view is realistic, at

least at times. The conclusions of the Agranat Commission, for example, regarding the Yom

Kippur War in general, and the intelligence failure and the Concept in particular, became an

organizing principle in the public and scholarly discourse about the war. The Commission

operated, then, as an extremely effective agent of memory and language. The fact that the
256
Commission's effect on Israeli historical memory was a byproduct of its work only strengthens the

notion regarding the potential embedded in commissions of inquiry as agents of collective

memory. Nevertheless, the Agranat case is not necessarily typical for Israeli commissions since

others have been less successful in leaving a lasting imprint on the national historical memory.

Such commissions were, for example, the military and kibbutz inquiries into the failed battles in

Nitzanim, Masada and Sha'ar ha-Golan, as well as the Bekhor Commission that studied the

Arlosoroff murder.

The analysis of the work of commissions of inquiry as described in this study seems to

point to two different kinds of commissions, each of which could be divided into distinct

subgroups. In the context of history-writing, one should differentiate between two kinds of

commissions:

1) Commissions such as the Bekhor Commission that delved into the history and

historiography of events that happened decades prior to the establishment of the

commission.620

2) Commissions that were established in the immediate wake of the events that

gave rise to the inquiries and that were politically acknowledged as matters of

vital public importance.

In the context of commissions of inquiry as agents of collective memory, one should differentiate

between three kinds of commissions:

620
As explained in the introduction of this study, the Or Commission and the commissions that inquired into the
Yemenite Children Affair are two further case studies of commissions that reported on events which took place
decades before the establishment of those formal state bodies.
257
 1) Commissions such as the Agranat Commission, which wittingly or unwittingly

were able to shape their historical narratives into national metanarratives.

2) Commissions whose publication of their reports marked the beginning of a

prolonged, systematic and effective commemoration process (e.g. the case of

the Burstein Committee and Kibbutz Nitzanim).

3) Commissions of inquiry that were unable to leave an enduring impact on the

national historical memory (e.g. the Bekhor Commission and the military and

kibbutz inquiry into the fall of Masada and Sha'ar ha-Golan).

Previous studies that dealt with memories of cultural and national traumas elaborated a variety of

factors that played a role in the construction of collective memory.621 Such factors included, inter

alia, the power, composition, and number of agents of memory that dealt with the topic; the time

that elapsed from a certain trauma until its commemoration; the use of public space and

institutionalized sites for sustaining memories of traumas, and the nature of the narratives available

about them. Furthermore, existing scholarship about collective memory has focused on the

different means that diverse nations used to shape the memories of their citizens. Such means

included symbols, ceremonies, direct teaching and required textbooks.622

This study has sought to add an additional mechanism to this list—state-based

commissions of inquiry—which have become embedded in the political culture of Israel and many

other countries. Moreover, this study suggests that what makes some commissions of inquiry

assume an important role in Israeli public affairs is their potential to function as effective agents

621
See for example Gary Alan Fine, Difficult Reputations: Collective Memories of the Evil, Inept, and Controversial
(Chicago and London 2001), cf. Vered Vinitzky-Seroussi, Yitzhak Rabin’s Assassination and the Dilemmas of
Memory (Albany 2009). Also relevant here is the study by Gladys Engel Lang and Kurt Lang, Etched in Memory: The
Building and Survival of Artistic Reputation (Chapel Hill and London 1990).
622
For relevant references see Howard Schuman, Vered Vinitzky-Seroussi, and Amiram D. Vinkokur, "Keeping the
Past Alive: Memories of Israeli Jews at the Turn of the Millennium," Sociological Forum 18:1 (March 2003), 104.
258
of memory. This new way of thinking about commissions of inquiry widens and nuances the

previous modes of studying commissions of inquiry, which has tended to focus on them as

political, quasi-legal and administrative bodies. Furthermore, this study demonstrates that the

prospect for a given commission of inquiry to become an effective agent of collective memory is

highly dependent on a wide range of factors and circumstances. Commissions do not necessarily

have a direct influence on such variables which include, inter alia, the commission's letter of

appointment; the way a commission chooses to read its mandate; the question whether a

commission's report is kept confidential or made open to the public; the scope of popular and

professional scholarship about the topic at hand; activity (or lack thereof) of political patrons who

find a particular interest in the topic, and the time spanned between a traumatic event and the

establishment of a commission of inquiry.

An illustration of how some of these factors interacted in determinative ways is the contrast

between the Bekhor Commission and the military and kibbutz inquiries. While the former was

expected to bring an end to a fifty year old historical controversy, about which much popular and

scholarly ink had already been spilled, the military and kibbutz inquiries about the failed battles in

the 1948 War were established in the more or less immediate wake of the events and prior to any

other historical research. Furthermore, while members of Nitzanim were fully committed to a

systematic and adamant fight for their reputation in the history of the 1948 War, members of

Masada and Sha’ar ha-Golan adopted a much more passive line of action. The preliminary

exoneration that the Burstein Commission gave Nitzanim was a necessary though insufficient step

in its ongoing fight over the national historical memory. The official state vindication the

Commission gave the kibbutz already in 1948 in fact allowed its members to carry on this fight in

the decades that followed. This they did through a myriad of textual, communal and political

259
means. As we have seen, this fight enabled the kibbutz to surmount the accusation of cowardice

and betrayal, and transform itself into a symbol of heroism. The fact the kibbutz itself has

continued to live in the shadow of the 1948 trauma does not contradict this. Rather, the insistence

of its members that their reputation had been badly damaged in fact facilitated their repeated efforts

to reclaim their honor and to revise their image in Israeli collective memory.

The story of kibbutz Masada and Sha'ar ha-Golan is a kind of a mirror image of this

scenario. As in the case of Nitzanim, here too, a military commission and several other kibbutz

commissions reached the conclusion that the harsh condemnation of the kibbutzim had done them

an injustice. Nevertheless, unlike in the case of Nitzanim, these reports were not made public, and

the kibbutzim decided not to make use of almost any of the means employed intensively by the

members of Nitzanim to mythologize their names in the national historical memory. While the

trauma of the war and the public condemnation that came in its wake led Nitzanim to undertake a

proactive approach, Masada and Sha'ar ha-Golan reacted to the trauma with passivity and silent

grievance.

***

One of the catalysts that led me to undertake this study in the first place were assertions

made by Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi regarding the would-be dichotomy between history and

memory, and the relatively limited ability of professional historians to forge collective memory

(in comparison to literature and ideology). This stands as a central point of discussion in the

introduction to this study. The current chapter, on the other hand, opened with Appleby, Hunt and

Jacob, who present a very different understanding of the role of history and historians in the

making of nations than that expressed by Yerushalmi. His focus on the rupture between history

260
and memory, and on history, consequently, as the "faith of the fallen Jew," left little room in his

discussion for the affinities and interactions between the two.

A major goal of this study has been to add some new perspective to this, and to shed new

light on the web of cultural forces and agents whose interaction yields the sometimes illusive and

always changing national historical consciousness. Within this complex, one should take into

account the significant role played by non-professional historians in the process of forging

collective memory. One implication of this is that there may be room for an expansion of our very

notion of history, how it is written and who writes it, and what social roles it plays once it leaves

the ivory tower and the pages of learned journals. Certainly, it seems more productive not to think

in terms of conflicting roles played by history and memory respectively, but rather of the ways in

which they interact with one another and in the process shape the production of each.

261
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264
Mandatory Criminal Assize Case, 110/34 Misdemeanor. Attorney General v. Achimeir &

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