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Israelis are wondering whether the U.S.-led assault on terror is going to put them in the path of missiles again. But experts assure them that the country is better protected than it was when Saddam's Scuds last rained down. EVER SINCE THE TERROR attacks on New York and Washington, Israelis have been experiencing a kind of mirror-image rerun of the period preceding the 1991 Gulf War. Then, it was clear that the U.S.-led alliance was going to attack Iraq, but the consequences of that move for Israel were merely speculation. Now, it seems clear how an American assault on Iraq would affect Israel, but whether it will occur is a matter of conjecture � and the public has been treated to conflicting assessments. "It seems to me the September 11 attack on the United States, which required extensive planning and resources, could not have been mounted without the backing of a sovereign state. And if that's so, Iraq is the most likely culprit," Prof. Amatzia Baram, a Haifa University expert on Iraq told The Jerusalem Report. "If the U.S. does target Baghdad, and Saddam Hussein feels that he or his regime are about to go down," goes the corollary to this theory, "his parting shot will be to throw everything he's got at us, to take down as many Israelis as he can with him." Maj. Gen. Amos Malka, the chief of Israel's Military Intelligence, does not reject the second part of this scenario. But he does not believe there is a convincing reason for the U.S. to attack Baghdad. From the intelligence at his disposal, Malka said in a recent interview, he could see no direct Iraqi connection to September 11. And so, he added pointedly, as signs of public concern were mounting in Israel, "I don't think it's necessary to sow panic here and rush to refresh [gas-mask] protection kits." That leaves Israel's 6.5 million inhabitants to believe what they will. For the Home Front Command (HFC) has conspicuously refrained from telling them whether or not to gear up for the possibility of a nonconventional attack. Asked about this reticence, Col. Gili Shenhar, head of the command's Doctrine and Development Department, implied that an announcement on this subject is premature. "We will direct the public on what to do when that becomes necessary," he told The Report. "I don't think we face the situation of a war breaking out here tomorrow." But the public is less sanguine. Since September 21, the day after the Rosh Hashanah holiday, Israelis have been streaming in ever-growing numbers to HFC distribution centers, and standing on line for hours, to exchange outdated kits for new ones (each kit contains a gas mask and an injection of atropine, an antidote to poison gas.) "As a rule, we're set up to deal with 3,000 people a day," says Shenhar. "Now 20,000 people are showing up at our distribution stations daily." Still, the command had opened up only seven additional centers to ease the crush. Shenhar declined to reveal how many Israelis presently lack updated kits. But in an interview published just before his retirement in August, Maj. Gen. Gabi Ophir, the former head of the HFC, disclosed that only about 60 percent of the population had up-to-date equipment. "I won't comment on any number," Shenhar reiterated. "But I will say that we have a huge reserve force that can be mobilized to close any gap very quickly, if the situation requires it. We just don't think we're at that point yet." IN THE TEL AVIV AREA, THE MAIN target of Saddam's Scuds in 1991, tempers occasionally flare on the long lines. But at the distribution center in the dingy and airless basement of Jerusalem's Malhah mall one day in late September, people waited with uncharacteristic patience � for an average of 2� hours � for their numbers to be called. "I'm here not out of alarm, but simply because it's better to be safe than sorry," said Yehudit Yadin, 30, who had brought her three young children along. "I honestly didn't expect to find a long line." A man who would identify himself only as Mr. Shoval, admitted he had received a notice to exchange his family's protection kits three years ago but ignored it. "I didn't want to come here now, either, because I don't believe the masks are effective. And I didn't wear one during the Gulf War," he said. "But my wife forced me to come. And even if all the masks do is make people feel better, that's important too." Such equanimity stands in stark contrast to the situation in February 1998, when an apparently imminent American attack on nonconventional weapons sites in Iraq sent Israelis stampeding to HFC stations for updated supplies. Fueling the alarm then was the revelation of a shortfall in the command's stores � of 338,000 kits; to correct it, the Knesset approved an infusion of 285 million shekels (about $70 million at the time) for an airlift of equipment and supplies from abroad. These were never distributed, because the American attack was averted by Saddam Hussein's agreement to allow the resumption of U.N. weapon's inspections. But the episode exposed the chronic under-funding for this aspect of Israel's civil defense. A State Comptroller's Report issued in October 2000 noted that the HFC had received only about a fifth of the sum it had requested for refreshing the protection kits, thus creating the shortage. Worse yet, much of the material acquired in the 11th-hour, panic-propelled purchases proved to be faulty, or past its expiry date, and was returned. Now, too, press reports suggest that the HFC has been caught with its pants down and lacks 600,000-800,000 standard gas masks and 1.5 million batteries for powering the special ones used by infants, young children, and the elderly. But Shenhar adamantly denies this. "We have enough equipment in our stores for the entire population," he states emphatically � and that includes foreign workers and Arab residents of East Jerusalem. Still, there does appear to be a major funding shortfall. In August, Ophir said the HFC needed 100 million shekels. Only 30 million has so far been allocated. THE LEVEL OF GOVERNMENT spending on gas masks is also criticized by strategic analysts � though on precisely the opposite grounds: They argue that it's superfluously generous, rather than too stingy. "The whole idea of equipping the population with gas masks was wrongheaded from the start," says Prof. Efraim Inbar, head of the BESA Center for Strategic Studies at Bar-Ilan University. "It was a populist demand foisted on the government by David Levy," foreign minister in Yitzhak Shamir's government. "The army didn't ask for it; in fact, the military was against it." But once the program was instituted, there was no discontinuing it � for psychological reasons. "Having a protection kit has come to be regarded here as an 'inalienable right,'" Inbar says, with more than a hint of sarcasm. "It ranks alongside the right to vote as a mark of Israeli citizenship." Originally, the chief strategic complaint against equipping the population with gas masks was that it eroded the barrier against the use of nonconventional weapons. "It made the unthinkable thinkable," in Inbar's words � almost inviting an enemy to use non-conventional weapons. But over the years, prioritizing in defense spending has also became an issue. "Israel invested a huge outlay � billions of dollars � in passive defense that would better have been spent on active-defense systems, like early-warning satellites and the Arrow anti-ballistic-missile system," Inbar explains. And such systems, he believes, are still where the army would prefer the money to go now. David Klein, an expert on strategic planning who authored a study entitled "The Civil Defense Puzzle: When Is Enough Enough?" for the Jaffee Institute of Strategic Studies at Tel Aviv University, similarly argues that "deterrence and active measures against the threat of missiles" should take priority over heightened spending on passive protection. "The question is whether investing more money on protection will substantially reduce the number of casualties," he explains. And his answer is a firm no. Even the present rate of spending � about $8.50 per person to distribute and maintain gas masks � can be seen as excessive. "It may seem reasonable to the taxpayer," Klein writes. "But for policy planners, who must also fund major weapons systems, the cost is simply too high." According to a study by the Center for Military Studies at the Rafael Israel Weapons Development Authority, Klein notes, "Israel is, in effect, spending $50 million for each casualty prevented in a nonconventional weapons attack." Anyway, Klein argues, the aim of Israel's civil-defense policy should not be to provide Israelis with "total" protection but rather to limit casualties to a level "tolerable" for a country at war. "If population centers are attacked, you can't expect zero casualties," he argues. But their scope can be contained � as it was in 1991, when 39 Iraqi missiles that were launched at Israel caused only two deaths. As to pressure on the distribution stations, Klein intimates that it could be eased by a reasoned information campaign. "Even if 30 percent of the population doesn't have updated masks, which grant maximum protection, it doesn't mean that they're not adequately protected," he says � implying that older masks are not significantly less effective. IN ANY CASE, ANALYSTS POINT out, Israel is in a far better position to deal with a ballistic missile attack than it was during the Gulf War 10 years ago. A first battery of Arrow missiles is deployed in the center of the country, and a second battery is ready to be set up in the North. (Its deployment has been delayed by objections from local residents, who fear the effects of enhanced radiation, but they may relent now. The air force has held exercises in seeking out hidden Iraqi missile launchers, to prepare to combat another round of Iraqi Scuds � whether as part of the U.S.-led coalition or outside it. It has also participated in joint air maneuvers with other countries (most recently with the U.S. and Turkey) that are certain to be deeply involved in the assault on terrorism. Prof. Baram suggests that Israel might feel the need to use nonconventional force of its own if attacked by Iraq with chemical or biological weapons. The relatively muted tone on the home front may stem from the fact that, as of late September, the assault on terror had yet to begin in earnest. But it may also bespeak a change in the public's perspective as a consequence of the September 11 attacks � a sense that, in today's grim new reality, they are about as safe and well-protected here as they would be anywhere else. "It's true that Israelis tend to be panic-prone," said Jerusalemite Avraham Herschoff as he waited to receive a new gas mask. "I remember the lines in the airport in 1991, when some people were rushing to get out of the country. But I don't think that will happen again. After all, where would they go? New York?" (October 22, 2001)
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