How secret is the Mossad anymore?

There was a time when the very name Mossad inspired a mixture of admiration, mystery, and respect in me. Of all the intelligence services in the world, it was the one institution that fascinated me the most. Perhaps that admiration was inseparable from my love for Israel. Israel was my first love, and it will remain my last. Because of that connection, anything that contributed to the safety and survival of the Jewish state naturally earned my respect.

I am not someone who admires people easily. In fact, there are only a handful of individuals in my life whom I truly respect. Those people can be counted on one hand. If you belong to that small circle, I will go above and beyond for you. In extreme circumstances, I would even risk my own life for someone or something that holds such a special place in my heart.

Influenced by my unconditional love for Israel and by the work my parents quietly did for Israeli intelligence many decades ago, I once dreamed of serving Israel in that field myself. I would have done anything to contribute. Unfortunately, I never came across reliable contacts who could help me pursue such a path. At one point someone even told me that I was too honest for intelligence work and that I could never pretend to hate Israel because my face would immediately reveal the truth.

Whether that assessment was accurate or not, I will never know. What I do know is that time has passed. I am now too old for such ambitions, and I have accepted that reality.

For nearly twenty years, however, I pursued every avenue I could. Like a real life Inspector Gadget, I researched everything I could find. I read books. I spoke with organizations. I underwent testing. I met people with high level connections and listened carefully to what they had to say.

One lesson became very clear. Service to an intelligence agency such as Mossad requires absolute loyalty and commitment. It demands silence. Family members are often not supposed to know what kind of work you do. Even after leaving the service, former operatives remain bound by secrecy. Not only because of legal obligations, but because revealing information can endanger themselves, their families, their colleagues, and future operations.

That understanding only deepened my respect for the institution.

Mossad has earned a reputation as one of the most capable intelligence agencies in the world. Its history includes remarkable intelligence operations, extensive human intelligence networks, and an unwavering focus on protecting Israel against terrorism and hostile threats. Supporters see it as an indispensable shield for Israel. Critics point to controversial covert actions and targeted operations. Regardless of where one stands politically, few can deny its influence and effectiveness.

What always impressed me most was the culture of silence surrounding it.

My own parents were involved in activities connected to Israel many decades ago. Their contribution cannot be compared to that of professional Mossad officers, yet they taught my brother and me a lesson that stayed with us for life. Keep silent. Never speak. Never draw attention. Everything must remain under the radar.

For more than forty years I honored that principle. Only after my father passed away and my mother became severely affected by Alzheimer’s disease did I feel comfortable speaking openly about certain aspects of the past.

That is why recent developments leave me deeply conflicted.

Increasingly, I see people appearing in interviews, documentaries, social media posts, and advertisements claiming to be former Mossad agents or officers. Some write books. Some become television commentators. Others seem to use their alleged past affiliation almost as a personal brand.

Recently I watched an interview with a man I had known of for years. In my eyes he had never appeared particularly supportive of Israel. Suddenly he was being presented as a former Mossad agent and intelligence analyst. I found it difficult to believe. I remember telling a friend who showed me the interview that I sincerely hoped it was not true.

A few hours later I encountered something even more surprising. On Facebook I saw an advertisement featuring someone claiming to be a former Mossad officer who was selling coins and metal artifacts supposedly connected to intelligence operations.

I was genuinely shocked.

Why would anyone use the name of a secret intelligence service to promote themselves or sell products? Why should some people benefit publicly from an institution whose reputation was built on discretion while countless others spent their lives maintaining silence?

Of course, I understand that some former Mossad officials receive authorization to speak publicly. Some write memoirs. Some participate in documentaries. Some become commentators. Their public appearances are often reviewed and approved to ensure that classified information remains protected.

Legally and professionally, that may be entirely acceptable.

Yet from a personal perspective, I cannot help feeling uncomfortable with it.

The mystique and respect surrounding Mossad were built on secrecy, discipline, and sacrifice. The more frequently the name is used for publicity, self promotion, commercial activities, or entertainment, the more that image risks erosion. A secret service should not become a marketing tool. It should not become a badge used to attract attention or sell merchandise.

Perhaps I am old fashioned. Perhaps I still view intelligence work through the lens of an earlier generation that believed silence was part of the honor of service.

But when I see so many people today publicly benefiting from their connection to an organization that once represented absolute discretion, I cannot help asking myself a question that grows louder every year.

How secret is the Mossad anymore?