It was 3:35 a.m. on May 18, 1965, when a young Israeli named Eli Cohen, the most notable secret agent who has ever served the country, was hanged in Damascus. His grave has never been found. December 06, 2024, marks the centenary of the birth of this brave and unique man.
In recent weeks, after Assad's fall, Israel has been in contact with the new Syrian authorities to locate and repatriate Cohen's remains. According to the Muslim newspaper Al-Akhbar, published in France, there is indeed a great deal of effort in this regard. These negotiations were also confirmed in a report by the Israeli television channel i24news, two weeks after an insurgent force took power in Damascus. Since Eli Cohen's execution, Syrian authorities have kept the location of his grave secret, rejecting all attempts at negotiation by Israel, which has on occasion even proposed exchanging his body for sentenced prisoners from Syria.
After Cohen’s hanging, it was assumed that his burial site had been moved several times and that he had been buried in different locations over the years in an effort to thwart efforts to locate his final resting place. Nadia Cohen, Eli’s widow, said she had met the French publication with skepticism and made a poignant admission to the Israeli television reporter who interviewed her: “We are beginning the 60th year that Eli has been buried in Syria. I have lived my life alone and I think I will be alone afterwards too.”
At the same time, Israel is trying to establish contacts with groups that collaborated with Palestinian factions to find the body of one of the three soldiers who disappeared during a battle in the Bekaa Valley during the 1982 invasion of Lebanon. This dual Israeli approach is part of Israel's policy of making every effort to repatriate its citizens, whether they are civilians, soldiers or agents, dead or alive.
The desire to restore freedom to compatriots is so deep-rooted in Israel that it has even led to bizarre numbers. In October 2011, an Israeli soldier named Gilad Shalit, who had been imprisoned by Hamas for five years, was exchanged for 1.027 Palestinians, most of whom were convicted terrorists. Hundreds of relatives of his victims protested against his release. It was too painful for them to see the murderers of their loved ones smilingly waving to the television cameras. However, the government maintained its decision because the ransom of captives corresponds to an ancient and fundamental principle of Judaism.
In the days following the end of the war of Yom Kippur, in 1973, I witnessed the enormous anxiety of the Israeli population regarding the exchange of prisoners of war with Egypt. The whole country only talked about pidion shvuim, liberation of the captives, in Hebrew. This is an essential chapter of the Talmud, which considers this rescue more important than hunger or even death, being the mitzvah (meritorious deed) greatest thing a Jew can accomplish. The war had ended on October 25, but the pidion shvuim It was only implemented a month later.
Eli Cohen was born in the Jewish quarter of Alexandria, Egypt, on December 06, 1924, one of eight children of Shaul and Sophia Cohen, originally from Aleppo, Syria. His father imported fabrics from Paris, but did not make much profit. His home was strictly orthodox in matters of religion, to which Eli devoted himself fervently. With precocious intelligence, Eli won a scholarship to the Lycée Français and became fluent in Hebrew. In his bar mitzvah (13th birthday ceremony), he received a Kodak camera from his parents and became obsessed with photography, along with his interest in Judaism, which led him to Midrash Rambam, a center for Talmudic studies. As a teenager, he gave up on becoming a rabbi.
At that time, a branch of the organization was operating in Cairo. Aliya Beit, whose task was to bring Jews to Palestine under British Mandate. At the end of World War II, the leaders of the Haganah (a clandestine Jewish paramilitary organization) decided to increase their action in Egypt, trying to obtain information about British movements in Cairo.
It was Levi Avrahami who was in charge of expanding the spy network that brought Cohen into the team. Together with illegal immigration, the group's intense activity was dubbed "Operation Goshen."
In 1947, when the United Nations voted to partition Palestine, anti-Semitism in Egypt increased. Hundreds of Jews began to be arrested without cause and property was confiscated. In July 1949, victorious in the War of Independence, Israel signed an armistice with the government in Cairo. Humiliated, the Egyptians launched new and violent attacks against the Jews. In 1950, Eli Cohen's family left Alexandria and headed for Israel. He decided to stay in the city to continue his efforts to protect the remaining Jews there. At that time, a new Israeli agent, named Avraham Dar, arrived in Egypt. His task was to increase espionage, and one of the first people he recruited was the young Eli Cohen. The agent sent him to Israel, where, along with four other young men, he spent three months training in basic intelligence and sabotage techniques. After completing the course, he returned to Egypt. He was dedicated and became an excellent radio operator.
In July 1952, General Muhamad Naguib led a coup d'état that overthrew the monarchy of King Farouk and led to new attacks against Jews.
In Alexandria, Eli continued his espionage work, sending valuable messages to Tel Aviv.
The precarious situation of Egyptian Jews reached a turning point in 1956, during the Suez War. Of the 300 Jews who lived in Cairo in 1948, fewer than 45 remained. In the previous months, Eli Cohen had been arrested twice on suspicion of espionage, but he skillfully resisted interrogation. When he was arrested for the third time, they decided to expel him from Egypt. At 32 years of age, having recently arrived in Israel, he did not know the whereabouts of his family. He eventually managed to get the address of one of his brothers, Maurice, until he was reunited with his parents six years later in the city of Bat Yam.
Faithful to his religion, he was surprised by the secular behavior of most Israelis. In a corner of his family's apartment, he set up a darkroom and returned to his photography. At the end of 1957, he was offered a job at the Ministry of Defense. His work was in the field of counterintelligence, which consisted of reading newspapers from Arab countries. He translated topics he considered relevant into Hebrew. He asked his superiors for something more active, possibly espionage abroad. However, the Mossad did not accept volunteers for missions of this nature and his request was rejected. To survive, he went to work as an accountant in a department store. In 1959, he met a beautiful young woman with black hair, Nadia, a nurse at Hadassah Hospital. Within just two weeks, they decided to get married.
In early 1960, Eli bumped into Itzhak Zalman, whom he had met at the Defense Ministry and who was then one of the Mossad’s most senior agents, on the street. Zalman told him that they had been aware of everything he had done in Egypt, that they had been eyeing him since the first day he arrived in Israel, and that they now considered him fit to serve as an intelligence officer. Eli was taken to Mossad headquarters, where a senior agent took charge of polishing the recruit.
It was on this occasion that my friend Zvi Malkin, the Mossad agent who had participated in the capture of Adolf Eichmann in Argentina, met him. Malkin told me that he never became a close personal friend of Cohen, but as a veteran, he intermittently followed the steps of the newcomer's training. Like the other newcomers, Cohen made a firm commitment never to reveal to anyone, including his wife, what his activities would be. The next step was to submit him to a sophisticated series of medical examinations. Accepted by the Mossad, Eli Cohen began a six-month training program that included everything that could happen in the life of a spy, with an emphasis on coding and decoding techniques, as well as the use of the now obsolete invisible ink. His knowledge of photography helped him master the handling of microfilm.
According to Zvi Malkin’s account, Cohen’s precise responses to the training requirements impressed Mossad leaders. Malkin also said that he demonstrated a rare ability to control anxiety, to assemble and disassemble small radio and telegraph transmission equipment, and to have achieved above-average psychological scores. One of Eli’s best performances was in a classic test, which all recruits had to take. This test took place in Tel Aviv’s central square, in front of the city hall building. The instructor would point to a balcony of a residential building and the candidate would have ten minutes to appear on the indicated balcony, drinking a glass of water next to a resident of the apartment.
In September 1960, Eli was granted a week’s leave to meet Sophie, his newborn daughter. Back at Mossad headquarters, he was informed that he was going to the north of the country to explore the border with Syria. He learned then how the Syrians were firing incessantly from the top of the Golan Heights, hitting the civilian population living on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. His instructor told him: “In the future, there will be battles in this region and the results will depend largely on you. Your mission will be in Syria.” Upon returning from the Golan, Eli immersed himself in his studies about Syria: its history, economy, social behavior, government institutions, geography and topography. He listened to Damascus radio day and night and took classes with a teacher to perfect his command of Arabic with a Syrian accent. At the same time, he began to study everything about Argentina, which would be his first stop.
On March 1, 1961, a Swissair flight from Zurich taxied into Ezeiza Airport in Buenos Aires. One of the first passengers to leave first class was a well-dressed young man who looked like a wealthy executive. At the hotel on Avenida 9 de Julio, he presented his passport. Name: Kamil Amin Taabes. Profession: foreign trade. Nationality: Syrian. He immediately contacted an Israeli agent known only as Avraham, who provided him with the letterhead of what would become his company, rented him an apartment at 1405 Taquara Street, and pointed out the restaurants and cafés frequented by his supposed Syrian compatriots and where they usually met. Taabes soon joined the Arab immigrant groups and talked about his origins. His parents, both Syrians, had settled in Beirut. The family then moved to Alexandria, where he spent most of his childhood. His father had instilled in him a deep love for his home country. Kamil also revealed that he had immigrated with his family to Buenos Aires at the age of 17, thanks to the help of a wealthy uncle. In Argentina, after the death of his parents, he had traveled to Europe where he opened an import and export company. Now, he had decided to settle down again in his beloved Buenos Aires.
Kamil became a popular figure among the Syrians and Lebanese. He invited them to his apartment for sumptuous dinners and often spoke of his great desire to visit Syria. At the Islam Club, he befriended Abdullah Latif Alheshan, editor of Argentina’s leading Arabic-language newspaper, and Major Amin Al-Hafez, military attaché at the Syrian embassy. Both were impressed by Kamil Taabes’s nationalist zeal. In May 1961, he announced to his vast circle of friends that he was finally ready to visit Syria. Many promised, and kept their promises, that they would write to Damascus recommending that he be given the warmest welcome. In August, Kamil announced that he would go to Germany, spend some time in Europe, and then arrive in Damascus.
Eli Cohen landed in Munich, took a flight to Zurich, where he met with his contact agent, and then flew to Tel Aviv, where he showed his Mossad superiors the recipients of the letters of recommendation he had obtained in Buenos Aires. Everyone was amazed: Eli could be welcomed by the social, political, and military elite of Syria. While in Israel, he received a small, powerful radio transmitter hidden in the false bottom of a blender, the cord of an electric razor would serve as an antenna, and explosives were packed inside tubes of toothpaste and shaving cream. He returned to Munich and from there went to Genoa, where Kamil Amin Taabes boarded the first class of the Italian ship Ausonia.
Upon arriving in Damascus, he rented a beautiful apartment on the fourth floor of a building located in the elegant Abu-Ramanah neighborhood, right across from the Syrian army headquarters. He then set about setting up his import and export business. His suppliers held him in high esteem for the punctuality with which he fulfilled his commitments, and his circle of friends grew ever larger. In the messages and microfilms he sent to Tel Aviv, he reported on some good friends he had made among the civilian and military officials of the Syrian government: Lieutenant Maazi El-Din, nephew of the Chief of Staff of the Syrian Armed Forces; George Seif, propaganda director of Damascus radio; and Colonel Salim Hatoum, commander of the paratroopers. In one of his messages, Eli wrote: “Many lights on at headquarters, but no prospect of a coup d’état. Probable cause: attacks on Israel. Heavy movement of troops in the streets.”
In July 1962, six months after his arrival in Damascus, he went on a short vacation to Israel, spending the entire time with Nadia and little Sophie. Upon returning to Damascus, he once again hosted magnificent dinners at his apartment. It was through a Syrian lieutenant named Maazi, whom he had become friends with, that he accomplished one of his greatest feats. Accompanied by the soldier, he took a long tour of the Golan Heights, an area strictly off-limits to civilians. He saw the vast bunkers built there and the long-range artillery weapons supplied by the Soviet Union. The Syrians had so much confidence in young Kamil that they even allowed him to photograph some of those installations, including the underground ammunition depots.
Eli even spent a few nights in the city of Kuneitra, the nerve center of the Syrian army’s southern command. In June 1963, he was granted another leave to go to Tel Aviv. The following month, again in Damascus, he attended the Baath Party meeting that resulted in the coup that brought General Al-Hafez, the military attaché he had befriended in Argentina, to power.
On another trip to Israel, he met his second daughter, Irit, who was three months old at the time. In August, he learned in Damascus that his name was being considered for one of the ministries in the new government, possibly the Ministry of Defense. In conversation with Al-Hafez, he humbly declined any invitation and suggested going to Buenos Aires to raise funds for the Baath party. He left and returned with US$9, a significant sum for the time, to which he added a check signed by himself for US$1, and handed it over to the president. Once again, during a short stay in Tel Aviv, he was able to hold his third son, Shai, in his arms.
One night in January 1965, Eli Cohen was in his apartment in Damascus, waiting by the radio for a response from Tel Aviv. Suddenly, the place was invaded by a group of soldiers who pointed guns at him. It was the end of the great adventure.
Eli Cohen had been discovered following repeated complaints from the Indian embassy to the Syrian telecommunications services that its radio transmissions were being interfered with. Russian advisers based in Damascus quickly concluded that someone was making unauthorized radio contacts, probably from somewhere near the Indian embassy, but the transmissions were so fast that it was difficult to pinpoint their origin. On that sinister morning, there had been a power outage in Damascus, of which Eli was unaware, and he was using his equipment on batteries. As he was the only one on the air, it took only a few minutes to reach his address. The Syrian government and Kamil Amin Taabes’s friends were astonished. To his captors he said firmly: “My name is Eli Cohen, a soldier in the Israeli army.”
In the following weeks, despite being subjected to torture, Eli revealed nothing. On January 24, he was forced to transmit the following message: “To the Prime Minister of Israel and the head of the secret service. Kamil is our guest in Damascus. You will soon learn about his fate. Signed: Syrian Counterintelligence Service.”
Eli Cohen was put on trial, without the right to a defense attorney. On May 8, the sentence was handed down: death by hanging. Shortly after 18:XNUMX a.m. on May XNUMX, Eli was visited in his cell by Nissim Andabo, the chief rabbi of Damascus, with whom he recited prayers. He was allowed to write a letter to his family, but not in Hebrew, but in Arabic.
“To my dear wife Nadia and to my family. I ask you to remain united. I beg Nadia to forgive me. Take good care of yourself and our children so that they grow up properly. Always be on good terms with my family. I want you to get married so that our children will have a father. I give you complete freedom to do so. Do not waste time crying for me, always think about the future. I send my last kisses to you, Sophie, Irit and Shai, as well as to our entire family. Do not forget to pray in memory of my father and also for me. To all of you, my last kisses and prayers.” shalom. Eli Cohen, May 18, 1965.”
Eli climbed the stairs to the scaffold, dismissing the military escort. He was calm and pale. The executioner offered him a blindfold, which he refused. The trapdoor was opened at 3:35 a.m. Eli Cohen was dead. Nadia Cohen never married again.
In a rare interview, summarized here, given to an Israeli publication, she revealed some aspects of her life alongside Eli Cohen.
“I was born in Iraq into an educated family. We lived in a very beautiful area. There were eight of us children. We were among the first Jews from Iraq who wanted to go to Israel. We left a comfortable life and came to a maabarah, an absorption camp for new immigrants. That's how we lived for six years. There was joy in our hearts because it was our country, it was our people.”
And she continues: “As soon as we settled in, I met Eli because he lived across the street from us. I saw a shy and modest young man. I felt he was an exceptional person. It was love at first sight, we had an immediate connection. We got married in a synagogue. Eli worked as an accountant, but for him, it was a boring job. It wasn’t where he wanted to be. I was happy, he was my support because, being eleven years older, he was a husband and also kind of a father. I was pregnant with our first daughter when Eli told me he had been fired. After a while, he said he had found an interesting job, but he didn’t tell me the whole truth. Four months after I gave birth to Sophie, he said, without being very precise, that he was involved in purchasing spare parts for weapons in an industry that served Israel’s security. Later, he said he was preparing for a much more serious mission for the country’s security. At the time, I still didn’t imagine that my husband would be a professional spy.”
Later: “After a long absence, when he returned for the first time he was different. He had gained about ten pounds, had grown a Turkish-style mustache, indicating his wealth, and was wearing a ring. He was not Eli, he was a very different person, but he was happy and showed unusual self-confidence. After Eli entered Syria, he changed completely. Sure, he was a competent spy, he took his work very seriously, but he could not share with me and trust me what he was really doing. I was worried about his safety. The Mossad found that Eli was a genius. In the short periods when he returned home, he wanted to absorb all the love from his children, he wanted to give them all his fatherly love. When Eli left home for the last time, our son was only three weeks old. He did not see him crawl or start walking. Normally, the first word children say is aba (father). With my children, the first word was also aba, although they had never known their father.”
Zevi Ghivelder is a writer and journalist.
