Striking Back: The 1972 Munich Olympics Massacre and Israel's Deadly Response by Aaron J. Klein
Authors: Aaron J. Klein
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for the victims. Genscher listened stone-faced. He said he would reply to their requests in writing. His answer arrived at the Foreign Ministry in Jerusalem ten months later.
The official letter was so inadequate, it was disrespectful. Genscher denied government possession of documents relating to the Munich Massacre. As for compensation, Genscher wrote that the West German government was prepared to grant scholarships to two of the children of the victims for one year of study in West Germany. The scholarships, according to Genscher, would only be given to children who could prove financial need. The letter did not address Spitzer and Romano’s request for a memorial. The compensation plan did not even attempt to meet the needs of the thirty-four widows, fatherless children, and bereaved parents whose lives were devastated by the massacre. The families refused to accept the inadequate offer, and resolved to continue their fight for information.
Spitzer and Romano did not receive a significantly greater degree of assistance from the Israeli government. Though the eleven murdered athletes and coaches had been sent to Munich to represent the state, Israel offered neither political nor financial help to the families. Left alone to deal with the implacable German federal authorities, Spitzer and Romano were forced to manage an international dialogue from their homes, rather than through proper diplomatic channels. There is no clear explanation for Israel’s official policy—their unwillingness to pursue the truth of that night.
A conflict of interest may explain their reluctance. In the 1970s, security ties between Israel and West Germany were greatly expanded, and West German intelligence agencies worked closely with their Israeli peers. Joint secret missions and intelligence exchanges were carried out on a regular basis. Sayeret Matkal and the Yamam, Israel’s two leading counterterror units, assisted the West German government in establishing the German GSG -9 counterterror unit, under the command of General Ulrich Wagner.
Twenty years of deadlock came to an end in the spring of 1992. Several weeks before the twentieth anniversary of the massacre, Ankie Spitzer made an emotional appeal to German viewers in an interview on ZDF television. She spoke of her fruitless quest to discover the truth about the Munich Massacre and her husband’s death. She reiterated her refusal to accept German claims that there were no documents from that night. Spitzer stole viewers’ hearts with her powerful message, delivered in German.
Two weeks later, she received a call from an unidentified German government official. “There is information, you’re absolutely right,” he said. “I have access to the information.” Spitzer had been plagued for years by crank callers pushing conspiracy theories and false information. She dismissed the man as another such and directed him to Pinchas Zeltzer, the Israeli lawyer representing the victims’ families. Zeltzer, however, took the caller seriously. The German government worker told the lawyer he had access to documents. He offered to send a sample of the papers. “I’ve been waiting for this material for twenty years,” Zeltzer told him. “Send everything you can.” Zeltzer promised to keep his source confidential, come what may.
A messenger arrived at Zeltzer’s office door two weeks later holding a brown envelope with original documents from the West German investigation of the massacre. There were thirty pages of autopsy logs for Andrei Spitzer, David Berger, and Yossef Gutfreund. There were ballistic reports on almost all the eleven victims. In total, there were eighty original typewritten pages collected from different dockets, suggesting a wealth of documents amassed by the German authorities in the aftermath of the massacre. They had been stored in the Bavarian archives for twenty years, hidden from the eyes of the public.
Ankie Spitzer was elated. After
The official letter was so inadequate, it was disrespectful. Genscher denied government possession of documents relating to the Munich Massacre. As for compensation, Genscher wrote that the West German government was prepared to grant scholarships to two of the children of the victims for one year of study in West Germany. The scholarships, according to Genscher, would only be given to children who could prove financial need. The letter did not address Spitzer and Romano’s request for a memorial. The compensation plan did not even attempt to meet the needs of the thirty-four widows, fatherless children, and bereaved parents whose lives were devastated by the massacre. The families refused to accept the inadequate offer, and resolved to continue their fight for information.
Spitzer and Romano did not receive a significantly greater degree of assistance from the Israeli government. Though the eleven murdered athletes and coaches had been sent to Munich to represent the state, Israel offered neither political nor financial help to the families. Left alone to deal with the implacable German federal authorities, Spitzer and Romano were forced to manage an international dialogue from their homes, rather than through proper diplomatic channels. There is no clear explanation for Israel’s official policy—their unwillingness to pursue the truth of that night.
A conflict of interest may explain their reluctance. In the 1970s, security ties between Israel and West Germany were greatly expanded, and West German intelligence agencies worked closely with their Israeli peers. Joint secret missions and intelligence exchanges were carried out on a regular basis. Sayeret Matkal and the Yamam, Israel’s two leading counterterror units, assisted the West German government in establishing the German GSG -9 counterterror unit, under the command of General Ulrich Wagner.
Twenty years of deadlock came to an end in the spring of 1992. Several weeks before the twentieth anniversary of the massacre, Ankie Spitzer made an emotional appeal to German viewers in an interview on ZDF television. She spoke of her fruitless quest to discover the truth about the Munich Massacre and her husband’s death. She reiterated her refusal to accept German claims that there were no documents from that night. Spitzer stole viewers’ hearts with her powerful message, delivered in German.
Two weeks later, she received a call from an unidentified German government official. “There is information, you’re absolutely right,” he said. “I have access to the information.” Spitzer had been plagued for years by crank callers pushing conspiracy theories and false information. She dismissed the man as another such and directed him to Pinchas Zeltzer, the Israeli lawyer representing the victims’ families. Zeltzer, however, took the caller seriously. The German government worker told the lawyer he had access to documents. He offered to send a sample of the papers. “I’ve been waiting for this material for twenty years,” Zeltzer told him. “Send everything you can.” Zeltzer promised to keep his source confidential, come what may.
A messenger arrived at Zeltzer’s office door two weeks later holding a brown envelope with original documents from the West German investigation of the massacre. There were thirty pages of autopsy logs for Andrei Spitzer, David Berger, and Yossef Gutfreund. There were ballistic reports on almost all the eleven victims. In total, there were eighty original typewritten pages collected from different dockets, suggesting a wealth of documents amassed by the German authorities in the aftermath of the massacre. They had been stored in the Bavarian archives for twenty years, hidden from the eyes of the public.
Ankie Spitzer was elated. After
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