Why
Israel Is Still Afraid Of
Mordechai Vanunu
By Jonathan Cook
29 June 2004
The Electronic Intifada
He
was the last breakfast companion I was expecting. Separated from me
by a rack of toast and a handful of marmalade sachets was Mordechai
Vanunu, the man who 18 years ago revealed that Israel had amassed a
secret stockpile of nuclear weapons. Breakfast at the St George's pilgrim
guest house in East Jerusalem is usually a sedate affair, but on this
occasion both he and I were skating unintentionally but dangerously
close to arrest by Israel's security services.
Vanunu, who found
sanctuary in the grounds of the Anglican cathedral of St George's when
he was released from jail two months ago, is under a severe gagging
order imposed by the Israeli government. He is banned from talking to
all foreigners and most especially foreign journalists as the former
Sunday Times reporter Peter Hounam discovered a few weeks ago when he
was arrested by the Shin Bet secret services, held in a cell for 24
hours and then deported. Hounam's crime was to arrange an interview
for the BBC with Vanunu, trying to get round the restrictions by using
an Israeli citizen to pose the questions.
These are not the
only invisible bars still imprisoning Vanunu: he is also banned from
entering internet chat rooms, he must not approach any foreign embassies,
and his phone calls are being continously monitored.
But the severest
restriction has been the confiscation of his passport to prevent him
from leaving the country an infringement of his civil liberties
he is currently challenging in the courts. Vanunu says that since his
release he has been receiving a flood of death threats from Israelis,
most of whom revile him as a traitor, and that he wants to leave for
the safety of Europe or the United States.
Israel, however,
claims that the gamut of restrictions is needed because, even after
18 years, Vanunu still has many secrets to tell that could jeopardise
the country's security. Officials argue that it was for this reason
he had to endure 12 years of absolute solitary confinement, a further
six years of segregation from other prisoners and now these latest restraints.
Critics, including
his family, friends and supporters, on the other hand, claim Vanunu
revealed to the world all the secrets he knew in 1986. In any case,
they add, it is inconceivable that Israel has not overhauled the security
arrangements at its nuclear weapons plant in the Negev desert in the
intervening 18 years.
Vanunu's treatment,
says his brother Meir, who is living with him at St George's, is a continuation
of the psychological torture he endured in prison, a form of abuse designed
to break his spirit. It has nothing to do with Israel's security.
Meir Vanunu suggests
another motive for his brother's continuing confinement: Israel is hugely
embarrassed by the timing of their whistleblower's release. It highlights
Israel's formidable nuclear arsenal at precisely the moment when the
justification for attacking Saddam Hussein's Iraq - his possession of
weapons of mass destruction - is shown to have been hollow. If Vanunu
were free to talk, he might remind the world that the greatest threat
to Middle East peace comes not from Baghdad but from Tel Aviv. That
is a message neither America nor Britain wants to hear right now.
After my stay at
St George's there is little doubt whose story Israel's or Vanunu's
is more plausible.
Despite claims that
Vanunu is a walking timebomb of information that could destroy the Jewish
state, he has been talking freely to hundreds of tourists and pilgrims
who have passed through St George's since he moved there two months
ago. All are desperate to hear his stories.
I chose caution
and avoided speaking directly to Vanunu over the breakfast table but
my wife, who is an Israeli citizen and therefore permitted to talk to
him, chatted as I ate. I can reveal that neither I nor my wife heard
anything new about Israel's nuclear weapons programme.
That evening, I
sat out on the guest house's patio only to find Vanunu at a neighbouring
table, surrounded by some 20 British peace activists, making conversation
over several rounds of gin and tonics. Later, he popped up again at
the nearby American Colony Hotel, where he continued drinking with the
more hardened members of the party. He joked with the Palestinian waiters,
who all seemed to know him personally.
All this is happening
under the watch of the Shin Bet. They must be aware of what has been
taking place: the guest house is only a few yards from Israeli government
buildings and the American consulate.
The truth is that
the Israeli authorities know full well that Vanunu can do no more damage
to Israel - apart, that is, from reminding the world where the real
weapons of mass destruction are to be found. The current gagging orders
are a desperate attempt to prevent him from talking to journalists and
to keep an embarrassing spotlight off Israel's nuclear stockpile. And
the restriction on Vanunu leaving the country is a cynical ploy to stop
him inspiring a campaign in the West to disarm the only rogue nuclear
state in the Middle East.
His continuing confinement
and the danger that places him in are a stain on Israel's
honour.