Chapter 11

Cohen: the Damascus Hanging

For the Israelis he was a national hero. A true legend. A man who died in service to his country during a particularly dangerous and daring mission. That man was Eli Cohen. One night in May 1965, handcuffed and under guard, he mounted the scaffold that had been erected in Martyr’s Square, in Damascus. Despite the late hour, thousands of Syrians thronged around the gallows as the scene was broadcast live on local television.

At the foot of the scaffold, an old rabbi began to mumble a prayer. Above, the executioner, a giant named Abbu-Salim, tried to place a hood over the condemned man’s head. But Cohen refused. Seconds later, the rope was placed around his neck and after two minutes, Eli Cohen was declared dead. One of the most famous spies had died.

Israel has never forgotten him: the anniversary of his disappearance was officially celebrated in 2000 and a commemorative stamp was produced. That same year, Prime Minister Ehud Barak formally requested that his remains be returned to Israel to be buried. Syria refused, just as it had done so on numerous occasions beforehand, despite the urgings of various Israeli governments.

Eli Cohen had notably been compared to Richard Sorge, the famous Soviet spy who was able to warn the USSR of Hitler’s plans to attack, in June 1941. However, the circumstances in which this Israeli spy, who had infiltrated Damascus to the heart of the Syrian ruling classes, was unmasked has never been quite clear.

In intelligence parlance, Eli Cohen was called an ‘illegal’, meaning that he enjoyed no protective status, such as a diplomat, for example. As an ‘illegal’, he instilled himself inside a foreign land using a false identity and then waited to be activated by his governing bosses. Such a process can often take a long time and very few intelligence agencies use ‘illegals’, because the preparation is so long and costly. However, it is a system that was often used by the Soviets and the Israelis too.

An ‘illegal’ must be a person of exceptional character: someone with nerves of steel who could operate in a hostile environment, and who had to be constantly vigilant not to stray from the back story that had been created for him.

This back story, or ‘legend’ in intelligence jargon, meant the agent’s false personality: his new identity, fake past, everything, in short, that characterises someone. An ‘illegal’ is an individual with two lives, but they must be careful not to forget too much of their first!

Eli Cohen was born in the early 1920s in Alexandria, where there was a strong Jewish community. He received a traditional education as the Jews of Alexandria were very attached to Hebrew orthodox beliefs. The young Eli, the offspring of a modest Syrian family, was also well-educated. He was good at languages and besides Hebrew and Arabic, also spoke excellent French. He was a clever boy who was passionate about maths and dreamed of becoming an engineer, after narrowly failing the rabbinate. However, circumstances would decide otherwise. During the Second World War, the young man quickly took up with the Zionist circles to which he adhered. Still in Alexandria at the time, he was involved in covert actions to enable Egyptian Jews to reach Palestine. He dreamed of going there himself, although his leaders felt that he was more useful to the cause in Egypt and it was 1957 before he went to Israel. He had previously spent several months in prison, as he had been working closely with an Israeli spy network based in Egypt, some members of which had been sentenced to death. Luckily for Cohen, he managed to slip though the nets.

Cohen therefore already had intelligence experience when he arrived in Israel to join his family, who had emigrated there years before. He first worked as a translator at the Ministry of Defence, putting his excellent gift for languages to good use: in Egypt he had also learnt English, Italian, Spanish and German. It is hardly an accident that he was recruited by the Ministry, who were aware of the services he had performed in Egypt.

He should really have been recruited by the secret service, but in the world of intelligence, prudence is the key. At first, Mossad simply observed the young man from a distance so as to know him better. After a difficult adjustment period, Cohen was soon well-integrated into Israeli society, changing his employer and even getting married. One day, he announced to his wife, Nadia, that he had been hired as an executive in a big commercial company, which would often require him to travel abroad. In fact, he had been hired by Mossad. Now deemed capable, he was taken in hand by a man nicknamed ‘the Dervish’, whose real name was Yitzhak Shamir, the future Prime Minister.

This former member of the formidable terrorist group, Stern, had entered the secret service in the mid 1950s. A small man with a big moustache, ‘the Dervish’ was experienced and spent many months training his protégé. He taught him how to know when someone was tailing him, and then how to lose them, not to mention working under a false identity or engaging him in visual memory exercises.

Cohen did not yet know the mission he was being trained for. At the time, he was concentrating on becoming the perfect agent, or a katsa, as it was called by Mossad. However, when ‘the Dervish’ started showing him examples of weapons used in the Arab countries, he understood where he was to be sent. It was fairly obvious, especially since Cohen also had another advantage: as well as speaking fluent Arabic, he also had brown hair and a tanned complexion, allowing him to pass easily for a native Muslim in the Middle East.

He had now been in Israel for nearly three years, but his training was not yet complete. He still needed to study Islam and go to the local mosques. Finally, at the end of 1960, his instructor revealed his destination, Syria, and his new identity, or ‘legend’. From now on, Eli Cohen would be known as Kamel Amin Thaabet, a typical Syrian name. He was given the name of his ‘alleged’ father, as well as a false family and all the details needed to enable him to forge a new identity. He also forced himself to study Syria’s history, culture and politics.

However, before leaving for Syria, he first had to learn the Syrian accent, which was very different from the Egyptian one. At the same time he undertook more technical training and learned how to use miniature transmitters and micro photographic devices. In short, the A-Z of how to be the perfect spy.

Israel and Syria had been at war ever since the creation of the Jewish state, with trouble regularly breaking out on the borders between the two countries. At the time, the Golan (a plateau overlooking Galilee) was still under Syrian control and they would sporadically open fire on the fisherman or the farmers of the northern villages. Each time, the Israelis would retaliate and fire rockets. Israel also continued to monitor Syrian armed forces, who were receiving increasingly sophisticated equipment from their Soviet allies. There was a general fear in Israel that sooner or later, Syria would mount an offensive on its northern border.

There was another issue that was equally important: water, an essential factor that still exists in the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians today. Syria, which controlled the Galan, could easily divert the rivers that feed into the Sea of Galilee. The Israelis used this water to irrigate their crops in the south and in the Negev Desert, in particular.

Eli Cohen was now ready to fulfil his first mission. However, as he prepared to travel to Syria, he was surprised to find that Mossad were to send him to Argentina instead!

Gordon Thomas⁶²

Cohen was one of the Jews that were expelled from Egypt after the Suez Crisis in 1957. He arrived in Haifa and felt a stranger in his new country. In 1957 he was recruited by the Israeli military counterintelligence unit, where his work as an analyst soon bored him. He enquired about the entry pathway into Mossad, but his candidacy was rejected. ‘Our refusal hurt him deeply’, Meir Amit (the head of Mossad) told me. Cohen left the army and married an Iraqi woman named Nadia. For two years, Cohen led a quiet life working as a clerk at an insurance office in Tel Aviv. Unbeknownst to him, his application was reassessed by Mossad during a review of rejected applications. Meir Amit had been looking for a particular type of agent for a very special mission. Having found no one suitable in his current files, he began to go through the rejected ones. Cohen seemed to offer the best possibility and was quietly put under surveillance. Weekly reports sent back to Mossad spoke of his monotonous routine and his love for his wife and children. Eli Cohen was a hard worker and gave evidence of his ability to work under pressure. Finally, he was told that Mossad regarded him as fit for service.

Mossad sent Cohen to Argentina where there was actually a strong Arab community of at least 500,000 exiles from the Near and Middle East. Eli needed to hone his legend: his new surname was Thaabet and he had been born in Beirut. However, is family were of Syrian origin and had long ago emigrated to Argentina. Another anecdotal detail lies in the fact that Cohen’s real Jewish origins actually did originate in Syria! Mossad wanted to fully prepare his legend and for his cover as an exile to be credible, he must first be familiar with Argentina and the way of life out there in the Arab colony.

Naturally, Cohen did not travel directly from Tel Aviv to Buenos Aires: he had a stopover in Zurich, where he was looked after by local Mossad correspondents. Cohen took this opportunity to rid himself of anything that still attached him to Israel, such as his clothes, papers and photographs of his family. As he boarded the plane for Argentina, he was now a businessman specialising in imports and exports, with a beautiful South American passport bearing the name of Thaabet and a big wad of dollars in his pocket.

A cruel reality was that his family knew nothing of his new life. When Cohen wanted to send news to his wife, he had to send it along with his reports to Zurich, where a Mossad agent would then change the envelope before sending it on to Tel Aviv. Great care was taken to change the point of origin so as to imply that Cohen was continuously on the move. Cohen had to lie to his wife: a genuine ordeal for a man who was very attached to his family. Over the years, he became increasingly resentful of the separation and the double life that forced him to lie to those to whom he held most dear.

He spent several months in Argentina and used his time to test the extent of his spying abilities. He immediately sank into the skin of his ‘character’; frequenting places where he could meet other Syrian and Lebanese exiles and make friends with some of them. He soon realised that his cover was credible, but he still had to be on his guard, having been warned before his departure that the Arab secret services were very active in Argentina. In any case, he soon had a decisive encounter with the Syrian editor of an Arab newspaper and the two men talked a lot about politics. In the 1960s Nasser had been able to unite the destinies of Egypt and Syria by forming the famous United Arab Republic. But a growing number of Syrians had criticised the unification, which was increasingly turning into an outright annexation of Syria by Egypt. The hostility was crystallised by the Ba’ath Party, in particular, and it seemed that they would seize power in Damascus sooner or later.

Cohen professed his support for Ba’ath, and in conversation with the journalist (who was also a Ba’ath supporter), implied that his one aim was to end his life in exile and return to Damascus, where he could be of use to his country by helping the Ba’ath Party and ending Egyptian authority. The journalist fully agreed with him and even offered to provide him with contacts in Damascus. What is more, he introduced him to a man who would later play a big role in Syrian politics (and who again was a Ba’ath supporter): General Amin al-Hafiz, a Syrian military attaché in Buenos Aires and the future President of Syria. Not to be confused with Hafez al-Hassad, who would not seize power until 1970.

Hafiz, who knew about Cohen’s intentions, asked him: ‘what are you waiting for?’, thus providing him with a direct invitation to Damascus. First, however, Mossad made Cohen take a detour to Tel Aviv, where he was allowed to see his wife as well as undergo further training. He now had to perfect the task of operating the miniature radios that he was to use in Syria, which transmitted encrypted messages in Morse Code. This was very important as each ‘pianist’, as the radio operators used to be called, had their own way of typing a message; a personal touch, or signature, that was unlike anyone else’s. This meant that if another ‘pianist’ tried to send a message on the same machine, they would be easily identified as an imposter. On the other hand, if the user suddenly changed his signature, it would be clear that he was under some form of duress. This meant that Cohen, along with his handlers, had to learn to how to send and recognise his ‘signature’.

Once his training was complete, he once more flew to Zurich where he transformed into Kamel Amin Thaabet. He then headed for Beirut, before travelling to Damascus by road. Before leaving Israel, he had learned that a military coup in Syria had meanwhile led to the Ba’ath Party taking power and calling the county’s unity with Egypt into question. This was a favourable situation for Cohen, as his contacts were all within the influential circles of this party.

He crossed over the border without difficulty; his transmitter carefully hidden inside some household equipment. Upon his arrival in Damascus, he began to look for an apartment. He could not possibly stay in a hotel as the transmitter and other equipment would likely attract attention. He found a place in a small building opposite the barracks that housed the Syrian Army. This location allowed him to glean certain nuggets of information: on nights when the barrack lights were on very late, Cohen could easily deduce that they were preparing themselves for something. What is more, the biggest advantage of his beautiful new apartment was that it was on the top floor, thus allowing him to install a discreet antenna on the roof for his transmitter.

The first important connection he made was with a young Syrian called Kemal, the son the Arab journalist he had met in Argentina, who had actually helped him to find his apartment. Kemal was a well-connected young man who was used to mixing in the best circles in the Syrian capital. Thanks to him, Cohen quickly built up an excellent address book, always under the guise of his import/export business. He told everyone he met that he intended to export Syrian furniture and handicrafts, which he later did. Once again because of Kemal and his connections, Cohen met a young lieutenant called Maazi (the nephew of the Syrian Army’s Chief of Staff) and the two quickly became friends. Cohen was very much a people person and was undoubtedly well-liked. Only at night, when he was alone in his apartment sending messages to Tel Aviv, did he become Eli Cohen.

Lieutenant Maazi was naturally an important contact. One can learn a great deal from a simple, yet well-directed, conversation, and with Maazi, Cohen could accomplish many things.

Ben Porat and Uri Dan⁶³

In his first weeks in Damascus, he had already met a number of manufacturers and traders whose products he offered to export to Europe, and particularly Munich. These included artisan tables, which were generally used as gaming tables and were part of the natural decor in most Syrian and Lebanese cafes and restaurants. He also discovered different types of Syrian objets d’art, old and new jewellery and various leather objects, all of which, in his opinion, were capable of being sold in Europe. The spy was careful to explain to traders that he was connected with a large import company in Europe, whose headquarters were in Munich and Zurich, which would allow him to export the art objects and folk tables that were very popular in Europe. These negotiations involved him corresponding with the main agent of the company, who was none other than his primary contact: his friend, Salinger.⁶⁴

The friendship between Cohen and Lieutenant Maazi became so strong that the Israeli spy managed to convince his friend to take him on a tour of the border around the Golan. The visit was of particular interest to Cohen, not only because he could provide Tel Aviv with precise locations of the Syrian Army’s defensive positions, but it would also enable him to look at their work to potentially divert the water supply from the plateau’s rivers.

This river diversion project had also been helped by Soviet experts: the outline of the canal had been marked out and the first bulldozers had already begun digging. The plan was that one of the rivers that fed into the Sea of Galilee would instead be diverted to the Yarmouk River, in Jordan. The Israelis had done all they could to delay the work, and had occupied the Golan immediately after the end of the Six Day War. The conquest of this strategic plateau had been a major objective for them, primarily because of its water source.

Cohen therefore managed to accomplish something quite special on his visit to the border with his friend Maazi. As the lieutenant was the nephew of the Army Chief of Staff, they had no difficulty accessing the military installations. But Cohen was not just going to stop there and for many months had been widening his friendship circles. It was made even easier by the return to Syria of General al-Hafiz, who was made President in 1963.

Cohen immediately re-established contact with him and gradually became an important character is Damascan polite society. You might see him at ministry meetings, attending press conferences, hosting receptions etc. In short, he had created a lifestyle and populated it with two men who would become his chief informants. One of these was Seif Georges, a top civil servant at the Ministry of Information. The other was Colonel Hatoum, an elite unit commander in the Syrian Army. Cohen’s relationship with these two men would be very shrewd and perhaps even a little perverse.

Both men had mistresses. However, in Damascus, extra-marital affairs had to remain confidential. In an act of friendship, Cohen suggested that they use his flat to meet their girlfriends and did not hesitate to provide them with a set of keys to the apartment. He was playing a dangerous game: his transmitter was hidden there, after all. Yet when the two men went to the apartment, they had other things on their mind than rummaging through his belongings!

Regardless of this, Cohen was taking a great risk. As he became increasingly confident, he began to neglect his safety, which was to end up costing him dear. In the meantime, however, his suggestion was a master-stroke and neither of the two men refused his offer. Cohen event went further, suggesting that he invite the two men over to spend an evening or two with other pretty girls. Israel has always claimed that Cohen played no direct involvement in these parties, understandably not wanting to dent the image of their hero. Cohen was married with children and was a practising Jew. Whatever his attitude to the parties themselves, the Israeli spy sent back vital information to Mossad and his effectiveness was outstanding.

On three occasions, under the pretext of travelling to Switzerland on business, Cohen was able to make brief stops in Israel. During these stays, as well as being debriefed by his bosses, Cohen was also allowed to see his wife and children. His last visit was in November 1964, when both his family and his superiors remarked how exhausted he looked. He was certainly tired and would no doubt have much preferred to end his mission and remain in Israel. He was aware that he could be unmasked at any time and that his situation was becoming increasingly dangerous.

Would his superiors in Mossad have understood? They could not ignore the fact that given Cohen’s low morale and the longevity of his mission, there was a high probability that he might be arrested. The more time that passed the greater the chance of the Syrian intelligence agencies intercepting Cohen’s secret messages. Yet the information he was gathering was so important that Mossad could hardly just give up. They were tempted to exploit Cohen’s services right to the end, even if they eventually lost. There was little time for sentiment.

However, we must also question whether or not Cohen’s destiny had already been planned and the consequences of such an event happening: the sudden revelation that the Syrian government, army and intelligence agencies had been infiltrated by the Israelis would only induce panic. What if there were other spies as well? In short, it could lead to the beginning of a wave of espionage mania, where everyone would suspect everything and the entire Syrian governmental system would break down.

In truth, this is what did happen after Cohen was captured. Hundreds of people were arrested, with some being tried and sentenced to death. The simple fact of having crossed Cohen’s path at some point was enough to make you a suspect. So the question remains this: did Mossad have it all planned and were prepared to abandon Cohen completely, once his mission was completed? At the time everyone knew that sooner or later a new war would break out within the Arab countries. In such a case, what is one man’s life worth? On his return to Damascus, Cohen went into a frenzy, sending message after message every day and always at the same time. Although he was taking the risk of being discovered, his superiors at Mossad could have advised him to take more care. But they did not and his capture was inevitable.

In January 1965, the Syrians, backed up by Soviet experts, used special equipment to locate the exact place where Cohen had hidden his transmitter. They broke down the door to his apartment and stormed in, just as he was about to send another message. There was nothing he could do and the Syrians immediately tried to send a false message back to Tel Aviv. However, the special ‘signature’, unique to each operator naturally betrayed them and Mossad quickly realised that their agent in Damascus had fallen into Syrian hands.

Eli Cohen was put on trial, but the verdict was a foregone conclusion. The sentence could only be death. Even the two French lawyers who were supposed to defend him were not allowed to attend the trial! Cohen was said to have displayed immense courage and had admitted nothing, even under torture. He simply stated that he was a soldier of the Nation of Israel.

Dan Raviv and Yossi Melman⁶⁵

If Cohen (and his superiors) had been more careful, he could have saved his life. In November 1964 he was on leave in Israel to attend the birth of his third child. Cohen had hinted to Mossad that he hoped, after four years abroad, that he would be able to retire to a more relaxed life. He also explained that he was afraid of Colonel Ahmed Suedani, the head of Syrian Army Intelligence. Unfortunately, Mossad paid no attention. Tensions on the border were escalating and the possibility of war seemed increasingly serious. It was vital for them to have someone in Damascus, so they persuaded Cohen to resume his post as soon as possible.

Roger Faligot and Rémi Kauffler⁶⁶

Nadia Cohen found her husband on the edge that last time she saw him in November/ October 1964. His superiors were about to send him to his death. His trial began on 28 February [1965] and Eli Cohen was hanged in a public square on 17 May. Everyone, even his enemies, agreed that he died bravely. In Israel, he was celebrated as a hero for his sacrifice. In Syria meanwhile, his arrest and trial resulted in a chronic wave of mistrust, re-enforcing the tendency to harden the regime: if Kamel Thaabet had been a Mossad agent, then anyone could be. In this respect, the legacy of Cohen’s case was particularly long-lasting. Even today, Nadia Cohen still criticizes the Mossad chiefs, who according to her, should not have sent an agent on a mission who was ‘on the border of collapse’.