[Text by Ami Dror, Translation by Whale Life]

I have served as a bodyguard for three Israeli Prime Ministers.

The first was Shimon Peres, who could be described as "half man, half tornado," and when I was a 22-year-old strong young man, I almost couldn't keep up with this 70-year-old man's pace. The next was Ehud Barak, the most decorated soldier in Israeli history, whose dust on his military uniform had barely settled before he transitioned into a successful labor party politician, eventually becoming prime minister.

As for the last one, I escorted him between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, accompanied him to the centers of world power, met with the Pope, prime ministers, and presidents; he was also the person who more than any other Israeli decided the fate of our country in the 21st century—Benjamin Netanyahu.

Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu speaking at the general debate of the UN General Assembly. Photo from the United Nations official website

What would Israel look like today if Rabin were still alive?

I grew up in Ashkelon, a city in the 1970s located between Tel Aviv and Gaza. As a child, I dreamed of becoming a video game designer. At night, my father, born in Romania, would tell me about how he miraculously survived the Holocaust. When I was eight years old, the threat Israel faced came from Iraq, not Iran. In the summer of 1981, Israeli Air Force F-16s bombed an Iraqi nuclear reactor several kilometers southeast of Baghdad.

The then-Israeli Prime Minister was Menachem Begin, a Holocaust survivor like my father, who proposed "Beginism," emphasizing that no Arab country should possess nuclear weapons.

Like all Israelis, I served in the Israeli Defense Forces for three years. After leaving the army, unsure of what to do next, I saw an advertisement in the newspaper for an airport security officer. This job involved providing security on El Al Airlines flights, but it also allowed me to travel the world and had plenty of time to study.

So I applied for the job. After training, I was called into a room. Obviously, I did well, because an official from Shin Bet (Israel Security Agency) asked me if I would be willing to be the bodyguard of then-Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin. Two years earlier, on August 27, 1993, Rabin made a shocking move—he announced that for months, his government representatives had been secretly negotiating with senior members of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) near Oslo, Norway.

I was stunned; these negotiations were completely secret from the Israeli media, even from Rabin's cabinet.

The PLO had agreed to formally recognize Israel and commit to ending attacks against Israelis in Gaza, the West Bank, and Israel itself. In exchange, Israel would recognize the PLO and allow its leader Yasser Arafat to establish a Palestinian Authority in Gaza and the West Bank. Peace between Israel and the Arab world seemed within reach. Then Foreign Minister of Rabin's government, Shimon Peres, spoke optimistically about a "New Middle East."

In September 1995, then-Israeli Prime Minister Rabin met with PLO leader Arafat at the White House under President Clinton's watch. Rabin was assassinated five weeks later. Associated Press photo

When I was asked in 1994 if I was willing to be his bodyguard, the Oslo Accords and Rabin himself were under great pressure. Hamas carried out suicide attacks against Israeli civilians. This sparked protests against Rabin's government. Protesters burned his portraits and shouted for his life. These demonstrations lasted for a long time and became a poisoned watershed in Israeli history. As waves of violence swept the country, the public in Israel began to turn against the peace process of Oslo.

To serve the country at such a turbulent time was both awe-inspiring and anxious for me. It was completely outside my planned life. Deep down, I still believed I would eventually go on to design video games.

But I signed a four-year contract with Shin Bet. Because I trusted Rabin and believed in the Oslo peace process. Although I was later deprived of the opportunity to meet with him, I could feel that Rabin was an extraordinary prime minister: he was very intelligent, paid attention to details, and was passionate about security work. I had everything planned out. Rabin would achieve peace with the Arab world, and I would stand by to protect him. Then I would become a software developer. My nervousness gradually subsided.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I was just over 22 years old. Most Israelis at the time remembered where they were when it happened. I was with my parents, watching the movie "Crocodile Dundee" in their apartment. That was a Saturday evening in November 1995. The next day was supposed to be my first day joining Shin Bet to officially protect Rabin.

On the television screen, Paul Hogan's face suddenly disappeared, and the channel switched to news coverage. The report said that that afternoon, Rabin had attended a rally in central Tel Aviv supporting the Oslo Accords and gave a speech. He told the crowd, "I have always believed that the majority of people in this country desire peace and are willing to take risks for peace," "Violence is eroding the foundations of Israeli democracy, and we must condemn it, despise it, and isolate it."

This was his last speech.

As Rabin left the rally, a violent right-wing extremist opposed to the peace process shot him three times. Hours later, he died of wounds in Tel Aviv's Ichilov Hospital, with a bullet penetrating his lung.

In 1995, after being shot at a peace rally, security personnel put Rabin into a car.

Deep down, I've never been able to accept Rabin's death. I always wonder, what would have happened if I could have been there due to a schedule change? Could I have saved him? If Rabin were still alive, what would Israel look like today?

These thoughts only emerged years later. When I tried to recall the initial weeks in Shin Bet, my mind was blank. For the next year, our VIP protection team worked around the clock, trying to rebuild the entire security system from scratch.

I entered this new world in a near-mad situation. In 1996, I was already sitting in the back seat of the silver Cadillac used by Shin Bet to escort the Israeli Prime Minister. Rabin was gone. Netanyahu sat beside me, staring straight ahead.

It's easy to forget that Netanyahu was essentially a liberal back then.

You must remember that the Western politicians you see on TV or social media are not their true selves. The images on the screen are just a show arranged to please the audience.

When their lives directly depend on your decisions, your understanding of them begins to change. Weaknesses they don't reveal in public performances will be exposed.

I still remember Bill Clinton—the most powerful person in the world at the time, whose strategic bombers and nuclear submarine fleets could destroy the Earth several times over—asking me, his security and accompanying staff for the day, for permission to go to the restroom. I let him go.

After Rabin's assassination, Shimon Peres immediately became the Israeli Prime Minister. Netanyahu was the leader of the opposition, and in the eyes of many Israelis, he had gained a bad reputation for attending rallies throughout 1995 where the crowd chanted "murder Rabin." This always makes me think of a verse from the Hebrew Bible, 1 Kings 21:19: "Have you killed a man and taken possession of his property?"

I had never met someone like Peres. He was simple and humble, sleeping only two hours a night, and regaining energy after a 20-minute nap in the back seat of the official Cadillac. His wife Sonia drove a small car and anonymously cared for children and disabled people in a hospital.

Peres was one of the last inheritors of the generation that founded Israel, and when he ran for the election against Netanyahu in May 1996, he was already a legendary figure with great achievements.

Netanyahu and Peres. Peres served as the President of Israel from 2007 to 2014, and twice as the Prime Minister of Israel and twice as the Acting Prime Minister.

On the night of the election, our security team fell asleep thinking that Peres would win. But upon waking up, the Prime Minister was Netanyahu.

We knew everything about Netanyahu—well, at least we thought we did.

When working in Shin Bet on VIP security, you might spend two days protecting the Prime Minister and three days protecting the opposition leader.

At that time, I thought I understood Netanyahu. He was flamboyant, like a marketing expert. You know, it was the late 90s, less than ten years since the fall of the Berlin Wall. Clinton and Tony Blair were the most successful politicians in the world at the time. They appeared at ease on this new global stage. Their image was dazzling, and I could see that Netanyahu longed to be like them.

Now, when his political stance is closer to fascism, it's easy to forget that Netanyahu was essentially a liberal back then. He had a good relationship with the courts and the media.

I always carried a Shin Bet booklet in my pocket, full of photos of potential assassins to be cautious of. One of the faces in the booklet, Itamar Ben-Gvir, is now the Minister of National Security in Netanyahu's coalition government. In 1998, we considered Ben-Gvir, an extreme religious right-wing extremist, more likely to attempt to assassinate the Israeli Prime Minister rather than work with him.

Netanyahu was the youngest Prime Minister in Israeli history and the first to be born in independent Israel. He had incredible confidence. During a meeting with Clinton, Netanyahu energetically talked for several hours about "the brinkmanship" (a term used during the Cold War to describe a situation on the verge of war, through threats to force the other side to yield, note.)—it's worth noting that at the time, Netanyahu continued the Oslo peace talks—this exhausted American president complained, "Who the hell does he think he is? Who is the real superpower here?"

Back then, Netanyahu was also prepared to give large areas of land to the Palestinians. In October 1998, I watched him and Yasser Arafat speeding in a golf cart. Nearly 30 years later, recalling this scene still puzzles me.

My job was to plan ahead. Planning routes, arranging logistics. I could never rest. At least since the 1970s, Israeli politicians and diplomats have been the most threatened group on earth.

You can feel the weight of this responsibility. It's not just about a single prime minister. They are symbols. You're not protecting a person, but the whole Israel.

From "Divine Mission" to Exceptional Isolation

I began to doubt that Netanyahu wasn't ready to be Prime Minister. His family had ongoing conflicts: his wife Sara was ambitious yet sensitive; she was a young mother struggling to raise two children, but Netanyahu needed her to play the role of a diplomat and performer, like Bill needed Hillary.

Sara became increasingly unhappy. Year after year, her influence grew. One of the two young children, Yair, now sees himself as a potential successor to his father.

But the biggest pressure on Netanyahu came from his father, Benzion Netanyahu. Benzion was a historian and a failed figure in Israeli politics. In my eyes, he was a wise old man, but he showed extreme indifference towards his son.

Benzion specialized in Spanish Jewish history. In his book, "The Origins of the Spanish Inquisition in the 15th Century," Benzion argued that the Spanish hatred of Jews was rooted in racial hatred—and directly connected it to the chain leading to the Holocaust. In his mind, anti-Semitism was deeply ingrained. Keeping a firm vigil against this hatred was a tax every Israeli leader had to pay.

Even after Netanyahu became Prime Minister, Benzion clearly stated that he hardly agreed with anything his son proposed. His son believed that his father's failure to secure a few teaching positions in Israeli universities was the country's betrayal of him. Over time, I began to view this as the core conflict deep within Netanyahu, which later led to his attacks on the elite, media, and courts—a sense of shame, lack of security, and pessimism passed down from his father. This was not Netanyahu's fault, but the family's destiny.

The only tiny sign that hinted at Netanyahu's later transformation was when I escorted him and Sara to a fancy restaurant for a late-night snack. The first time they left without paying, the owner usually didn't care. The second time, the owners were confused. By the third time, the couple skipped the bill, and some of the owners even got angry, chasing them out of the restaurant.

As a young person witnessing this, you would repeatedly wonder in your mind: why didn't he pay? He could afford it.

Only decades later do you realize that what you witnessed was the process of a "thief" gradually becoming a gang leader.

You may think you have reasons to hate Netanyahu. But believe me, as soon as you sit in the same room with him for five minutes, you'll leave praising this person. He will lie to you again and again in front of your face, and you won't even realize it.

He can create an entire imaginary world out of thin air with words, a skill unmatched by anyone else in the world, and in my opinion, only comparable to a cult leader. Those cult followers know deep down that they are being deceived by the leader; but they don't care, because the fantasy depicted is so beautiful that they can't bear to let it go.

In 1999, there was a famous Likud Party rally in Tel Aviv. At that time, he was fighting for political survival, facing Ehud Barak. Polls accurately showed that Netanyahu had no chance of winning. However, Netanyahu still appeared at the rally, inciting the crowd, leading them to chant in Hebrew, "They are scared, they are scared!" The crowd chanted repeatedly, and I stood nearby scanning the scene for threats.

Netanyahu visiting Moscow in 1997, the author Ami Dror was his bodyguard (right rear in the picture)

I was fortunate enough to meet world leaders in both extremely private and extremely public settings. But I have never seen a politician stir up the crowd like this, nor have I ever seen a similar scene since.

After my contract ended, I left the Shin Bet security department and became a software developer. I lived in China for a while, and later started a business in India. Netanyahu returned to power in 2009, and has only briefly stepped down once in the past 16 years.

This ultimate showdown with Iran has received the support of most Israelis. Since the revolution in 1979, the Iranian regime has never hidden its vision of erasing Israel from the face of the Earth. (In Israel's view), allowing them to have nuclear weapons is equivalent to inviting a second Holocaust.

Netanyahu believes this is his mission, to protect Israel from the eternal hatred revealed in his father's historical writings, and to prevent the Holocaust my father survived from happening again.

Netanyahu has a cynical attitude towards many things, and his electoral alliance relies on catering to the extreme orthodox and the most radical settlers in the West Bank. But he isn't cynical about Israel. He believes he has received a divine mission to save this country. Such a belief often leads to disastrous leaders.

For years, Netanyahu has been trying to weaken the independence of the Israeli Supreme Court, a move that would bring shame to any country that claims to be democratic. He is surrounded by sycophants like Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich—who couldn't even run a restaurant, let alone manage the economy. He never thought Hamas posed a threat, and for years before the events of October 7, 2023, allowed millions of dollars to flow into the organization. He waited until the last minute to stop Iran. The hostages in Gaza are still trapped.

Netanyahu thinks historically, benefiting from his father's example, he understands how history will write. He knows that if he steps down now, he will be nailed to the pillar of disgrace of the worst leaders in Israeli history. He is nothing like Churchill or Bismarck, because great leaders would have prevented Israel from falling into the current situation.

I know Benjamin Netanyahu. Over the years, like many leaders, he has become extremely isolated. He trusts almost no one, and cannot rely on anyone, leaving only Sara—becoming increasingly unstable over the years—and Yair—the son who dreams of replacing his father.

The saddest part is that he could have retired early without ruining Israel. Now, as Israelis anxiously look up at the sky, they wonder what will happen next. Is it the end of Netanyahu's political legacy, or the end of democratic Israel.

(Original article published on the UK "New Statesman" comment website, titled: "Inside the Mind of Benjamin Netanyahu". Subheadings added by the translator, the translation has been edited, for readers' reference only, and does not represent the views of Observers Network.)

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