//reviews//
Fall 2013
Losing the War
|
The Gatekeepers
Dror Moreh Cinephile and Sony Pictures Classic, 2012 |
Israeli national security is, understandably, a top-secret affair. The Shin Bet, Israel’s equivalent of U.S. Homeland Security, is one of the country’s three intelligence agencies responsible for all counterterrorism intelligence and operations involving prisoner interrogations and targeted killings. Nicknamed “the Shabak,” the Shin Bet operates outside the military and answers exclusively and directly to the prime minister, maintaining both a top secret and top priority profile. Its motto of “Magen V’lo Yiraeh”—“defend and be unseen”—reflects the expectation that Shabak members commit to total invisibility in protecting their country. That is what makes The Gatekeepers so intriguing. Breaking radically away from their agency’s tradition of secrecy and anonymity, six ex-Shabak heads openly express their views in this Israeli documentary on a range of sensitive military and political issues, asserting a shocking sense of urgency and displaying brutal honesty.
The impassioned and sometimes heartwrenching testimonials of these retired intelligence chiefs expose a deep-seated distrust between Israeli politicians and the Shin Bet during the fragile decades after the 1967 Six Days War. Victory for Israel brought great territorial growth and a matched increase in security risks, resulting in heightened Shabak activity and a rise in public scrutiny of the government and its security operations. As the six men reminisce about their actionpacked careers in the Shabak, it seems that any and all glory is overcome by grief.
The men reflect in gruesome detail on intelligence gathering and targeted killings, recounting missed opportunities and failed missions. With remarkable transparency, they tell of discord between themselves and members of government who often refused to support the Shin Bet in the face of critical press and public opinion, and who even went as far as to condemn operations that went amiss. The ex-Shabak chiefs agree across the board that their jobs required unrelenting patriotism and the knowledge that they could rely on nobody but themselves. Years later, it seems, their patriotism is intact but their self-confidence is shattered. Crucial security decisions they once made without compunction are now the objects of remorse. The backing that they so desperately expected from politicians does not even exist within themselves.
The Gatekeepers is comprised of seven segments with short, powerful titles such as “Forget About Morality” and “Our Own Flesh and Blood,” which boldly frame every interview inside complicated questions of morality and ethics. The effect is tense and at times uncomfortable, echoing how these men feel about their years at the head of an agency responsible for the countless killings of terrorists, and not infrequently, unlucky bystanders. Strategic and moral dilemmas are standard in the world of counterterrorism and intelligence, but grim honesty and pessimism from top security figures is certainly unexpected.
It is shocking that these men would agree to disclose any details at all about their tenures as head of the Shabak, let alone comment on grave Israeli security flaws for audiences worldwide. In one striking scene, Avraham Shalom, who resigned from the Shin Bet in 1986 after he was accused of ordering the killing of two Palestinian prisoners and orchestrating a cover-up story, says that modern day Israel “is a brutal occupation force” in the West Bank and Gaza which acts as Germany did toward its European neighbors in World War II. Avi Dichter, who was the director of the Shin Bet at the turn of the century, proclaims now that Israel “cannot make peace with military means.”
Of course, this is not to say that these six figures discredit past and present military efforts to protect Israeli citizens and secure Israeli borders—quite the opposite. But there is a disheartening sense that the Shabak is a game no person with scruples can play.
Shabak activity leaves behind footprints of cruelty and heartlessness, and the interviewees do not foresee change. Collateral damage and torture persist, as does war. Ami Ayalon, head of the Shabak from 1995-2000, summarizes the problem neatly: “We win every battle, but we lose the war.” While riveting, and perhaps enlightening, the interviews with these men in which they describe Israel as a fighter hopeless in the face of ethics are themselves antithetical. Former Shabak heads Ami Ayalon, Avi Dichter, Yuval Diskin, Carmi Gillon, Yaakov Peri, and Avraham Shalom may have done their best to defend, but their participation in this movie makes them everything but unseen. There is a secrecy expected in good defense, and certainly in secret service, which calls for a confidentiality and trust these men seem to have left behind at the Shabak. If these men do not trust politicians, do not trust themselves, and do not trust the secret service’s slogan—how can we trust them?
The impassioned and sometimes heartwrenching testimonials of these retired intelligence chiefs expose a deep-seated distrust between Israeli politicians and the Shin Bet during the fragile decades after the 1967 Six Days War. Victory for Israel brought great territorial growth and a matched increase in security risks, resulting in heightened Shabak activity and a rise in public scrutiny of the government and its security operations. As the six men reminisce about their actionpacked careers in the Shabak, it seems that any and all glory is overcome by grief.
The men reflect in gruesome detail on intelligence gathering and targeted killings, recounting missed opportunities and failed missions. With remarkable transparency, they tell of discord between themselves and members of government who often refused to support the Shin Bet in the face of critical press and public opinion, and who even went as far as to condemn operations that went amiss. The ex-Shabak chiefs agree across the board that their jobs required unrelenting patriotism and the knowledge that they could rely on nobody but themselves. Years later, it seems, their patriotism is intact but their self-confidence is shattered. Crucial security decisions they once made without compunction are now the objects of remorse. The backing that they so desperately expected from politicians does not even exist within themselves.
The Gatekeepers is comprised of seven segments with short, powerful titles such as “Forget About Morality” and “Our Own Flesh and Blood,” which boldly frame every interview inside complicated questions of morality and ethics. The effect is tense and at times uncomfortable, echoing how these men feel about their years at the head of an agency responsible for the countless killings of terrorists, and not infrequently, unlucky bystanders. Strategic and moral dilemmas are standard in the world of counterterrorism and intelligence, but grim honesty and pessimism from top security figures is certainly unexpected.
It is shocking that these men would agree to disclose any details at all about their tenures as head of the Shabak, let alone comment on grave Israeli security flaws for audiences worldwide. In one striking scene, Avraham Shalom, who resigned from the Shin Bet in 1986 after he was accused of ordering the killing of two Palestinian prisoners and orchestrating a cover-up story, says that modern day Israel “is a brutal occupation force” in the West Bank and Gaza which acts as Germany did toward its European neighbors in World War II. Avi Dichter, who was the director of the Shin Bet at the turn of the century, proclaims now that Israel “cannot make peace with military means.”
Of course, this is not to say that these six figures discredit past and present military efforts to protect Israeli citizens and secure Israeli borders—quite the opposite. But there is a disheartening sense that the Shabak is a game no person with scruples can play.
Shabak activity leaves behind footprints of cruelty and heartlessness, and the interviewees do not foresee change. Collateral damage and torture persist, as does war. Ami Ayalon, head of the Shabak from 1995-2000, summarizes the problem neatly: “We win every battle, but we lose the war.” While riveting, and perhaps enlightening, the interviews with these men in which they describe Israel as a fighter hopeless in the face of ethics are themselves antithetical. Former Shabak heads Ami Ayalon, Avi Dichter, Yuval Diskin, Carmi Gillon, Yaakov Peri, and Avraham Shalom may have done their best to defend, but their participation in this movie makes them everything but unseen. There is a secrecy expected in good defense, and certainly in secret service, which calls for a confidentiality and trust these men seem to have left behind at the Shabak. If these men do not trust politicians, do not trust themselves, and do not trust the secret service’s slogan—how can we trust them?