The last time I saw Dagan, he chewed me out for what I had written about Olympic Games. But unlike his American counterparts, he complained that I had written too little, not too much. “You missed a major part of the story,” he said, arguing that the Americans had received far too much credit, and the Israelis—and by extension Dagan himself—had received not nearly enough. I had been seduced by Americans who were intoxicated with advertising their own success, he insisted one evening, rather than giving credit to an ally—he carefully didn’t say which one—that had done the heavy lifting, gotten
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