Image: Israelis demand a hostage deal in Haifa, May 6, 2024. © Rndmst | Dreamstime.com

‘The first pogrom of the 21st century’

On October 7, 2024, Le Devoir’s Paris correspondent, Christian Rioux, evoked the slaughter – the “pogrom” as he and others called it – that had taken place a year earlier:

Women murdered before or after being raped. Fathers killed in front of their children. Pregnant women with abdomens riddled with bullets. Bodies of young women stripped naked handed over to an enraged crowd. Corpses decapitated with a shovel, sometimes on the ninth try. And one of the killers shouting with joy as he called his parents to tell them the good news: “Dad, Dad! I killed ten Jews with my own hands!”

Pages could be filled with these horrors. That’s how extraordinary the butchery of October 7 was. The hate-filled young man got it right. He was not targeting enemy soldiers, adversaries or even Israelis. He was targeting Jews, and Jews alone. No, this massacre was not an act of war or killing as happens regularly in all conflicts, let alone a gesture of resistance. All this is miles away from what we call war, which, whatever you may say, has its rules,.

All the eyewitness testimonies agree: those reported in the New York Times investigation conducted for two months in Israel and published in late December 2023; those collected by journalist Lee Yaron in her book 10/7: 100 Human Stories; Israeli surveillance cameras; videos shot by the victims; and the GoPro cameras of the torturers themselves. There is no contradiction in what they show: a racist crime carried out not by those we call soldiers but by God-crazed fighters called jihadists, who unfortunately set themselves up to pass for liberators.

As feminist sociologist Liliane Kandel noted, these people were slaughtered or burned alive “only because they were Jews” and for nothing else. The desecration of bodies by chopping them up or burning them testifies to a clear will not to defeat one’s adversaries but to exterminate them. Hamas pointedly dubbed the massacre Operation Al-Aqsa Flood – in other words, a flood sent by Allah to punish the infidels. Historically, such massacres have a name: pogroms, a Russian word meaning “destroy fully” that was used to describe deadly and racist attacks on Jews in the last century. October 7 was the first pogrom of the 21st century.

If we don’t recognize what is particular and unique about this raid, what it means to the Jews but also to all of us, we will be doomed to understand nothing about this event and its aftermath. Because there was a before October 7 and an after October 7.

The French historian Georges Bensoussan explained that the real terror did not occur on October 7 but on October 8. Israel had not yet reacted when antisemitic acts broke out in many cities. In the face of such a despicable attack, Israelis expected a modicum of compassion and solidarity; the opposite has happened. The dead had not yet been buried when the word suddenly went out that what Romain Gary and Albert Cohen called “the oldest hatred” in the world had been aroused.

‘It still feels like October 7, 2023’

In Jerusalem on the same day, early in the morning, Jessica Steinberg, the culture editor of the Times of Israel, was in a crowd outside the residence of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu:

I woke up much earlier today, October 7, 2024. One year ago, my first sense that something was happening was when I awoke to sirens warning of a rocket attack in Jerusalem, at 8:10 a.m.

One year later, today, I woke suddenly at 5:20, when I heard our dog, Suki, barking in the living room, probably at someone passing by.

It was ten minutes earlier than I needed to get up, having set my alarm in order to drive over to Azza Road, where hostage families were gathering near Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s residence to sound a siren at 6:29 a.m., the hour that the Hamas terrorist attack began last year.

We stood there, hundreds of us, surrounding these families, around a dozen of them, their faces so familiar to us now after months – 12 months – of hearing their stories and their cries. Their faces, and the faces of their loved ones, of Idan Alexander and Ofer Calderon and Keith Siegel, Naama Levy and Liri Albag, Matan Angrest and Ofer Wenkert, so many of them, 101 in total, still, in Gaza.

I was there in my professional capacity, Jessica the reporter who has become so familiar with these families and their faces after covering the hostages over the course of the last year, but of course I was there as regular Jessica as well, Jessica who lives in Jerusalem with her husband and two kids, two teenagers who were getting up right about then, and donning white t-shirts for the ceremonies in their school, Jessica whose husband Daniel has a hard time tearing himself away from the news, Jessica standing next to her sister Beth Steinberg and brother-in-law Ira, all of us in a state of disbelief that it’s one year later and as many bereaved families say, it still feels like October 7, 2023.

The hostages. In the days after October 7, 2023, it seemed that they might become a rallying point for all Israelis as the country overcame the divisions that had plagued it in the previous year and pulled together in the face of the tragedy that had befallen it. After all, redeeming captives has been a deeply held Jewish value since ancient times. In 2011, Israel released 1,027 Palestinian prisoners (one of whom was Yahya Sinwar, who would become the leader of Hamas and the chief architect of the October 7 attack) in exchange for a single Israeli soldier, Gilad Shalit, who had been held in Gaza for five years. The prime minister who signed off on that deal was the same one who now held the office, Benjamin Netanyahu.

But the unity aound the hostages did not last. Instead, the families of the hostages became a rallying point for opposition to the Netanyahu government, which many of the hostage families felt had betrayed them. While bringing the hostages home was an official Israeli war aim, mounting evidence suggested that Netanyahu’s efforts had been directed toward undemining any possibility of a ceasefire deal that would bring about their release. Such a deal could lead to the departure of two far-right parties from Netanyahu’s coalition and the collapse of his government. In that event, Netanyahu would have to face the corruption charges that have plagued him since 2019 without the protection of the prime minister’s office. He would also be unable to avoid being held accountable for the security failures that allowed the October 7 attack to happen.

In the days leading up to the October 7 anniversary, the hostage families refused to have anything to do with the official commemmoration ceremony being organized by the government. Instead, they and others organized their own ceremony, which had far more energy than the official one.

‘Time is running out for the hostages’

Israel’s conflict with Hamas in Gaza entered a second year and spread to a second front. Israel struck back at Hezbollah in Lebanon, which had been launching rockets at northern Israel since October 8, 2023. Meanwhile, lack of progress in obtaining the release of the hostages and frustration on the part of the families continued. Eden Solomon wrote in Haaretz on October 19, 2024:

Ali Alziadana, brother of Youssef Alziadana, who was abducted from a dairy farm in Kibbutz Holit along with his sons Hamza and Bilal and his daughter Aisha, has served as the family spokesperson for months. Bilal and Aisha were freed after 55 days, but Youssef and Hamza remain captive.

Recently, after extensive efforts, Ali feels the public struggle has reached a standstill. “We talked, we shouted, we cried out – and no one is listening,” he says. “I feel invisible. When your own country doesn’t listen to you, it hurts the most because it’s home, and then you just don’t know what to do.”

Since June, the family has received no signs of life from Youssef and Hamza. “We pray they’re alive, but we know nothing,” Ali says.

“The uncertainty is unbearable, and the government has forgotten them.” He accuses Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu of missing opportunities for a deal. “What is more valuable than the hostages? More than the lives abandoned on October 7?”

Youssef, 54 and a father of 12, has diabetes and requires daily insulin. “If he’s alive, how is he getting his treatment?” Ali asks. “We thought it would be a matter of weeks, certain the hostages would be a priority. We never imagined they’d stay there this long.”

Ali describes his nephews’ slow recovery since their release. “They’re okay, thank God, recovering gradually,” he says, emphasizing the mental toll.

“They’re still receiving psychological treatment, but physically, they’re fine.” Aisha, who was engaged at the time of her abduction, hasn’t set a wedding date yet. “She won’t marry while her father remains captive,” explains Ali.

Ali feels powerless, overwhelmed by thoughts of what to do next. “I hear the bombings in Gaza from my home. It feels like I’m under attack. It’s unbearable. Every moment, I think of something new: maybe I’ll go to Egypt, but how would I meet the ambassadors? Maybe to Jordan, but how could I reach the king? I don’t trust the government anymore. They’ve abandoned us.”

After a diplomatic trip with other hostage families, meeting ambassadors from Qatar, Hungary, and Switzerland, Ali says there is no deal on the horizon. “The ambassadors said no talks are in progress, and no initiatives are being taken. Without a deal initiator, we’re stuck,” he says.

“I heard they might delay any talks until after the U.S. elections. If that’s true, it’s terrible. Every moment they’re held is critical. Every minute is a death sentence.”

That was one of many such stories. Nine days later, it was Amir Tibon’s turn to report in Haaretz:

Exactly six months ago, a video was released by Hamas showing my friend Omri Miran, a 47-year-old father of two young girls who was kidnapped on October 7 right in front of his daughters. The video showed Omri alive, with a long beard, uninjured and able to coherently speak before the camera.

It was the first sign of life his family had received since he was taken hostage, and it brought a dose of optimism to his loved ones and friends. He had survived half a year in the hands of Hamas. Soon, we all thought, he would return home as part of a deal to release the Israeli hostages and end the war in Gaza.

Little did we know. Half a year later, hope has made way for alarm and despair. In the course of those six months, more Israeli hostages were killed than released. After a successful military operation brought four of them back alive (costing the life of one heroic officer who died while rescuing them from their captors), Hamas significantly worsened the conditions in which all of the remaining hostages are being held. This most likely includes Omri. No new video of him has been released since then.

During this period, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has been on a campaign – a politically focused effort to make the Israeli public forget about the hostages, their suffering, the urgent danger to their lives, the unthinkable reality faced by their families.

He has celebrated the killing of Hamas chiefs Mohammed Deif and Yahya Sinwar, the two architects of the October 7 massacre, while ignoring the fact that Sinwar – in his attempt to escape the IDF in Rafah – very likely gave the order to murder six hostages who had been held in a tunnel near his hiding place. One of those six was U.S. citizen Hersh Goldberg-Polin.

Long hours of fruitless negotiations were wasted as the months went on. Netanyahu refused to sign any deal that would include an end to Israel’s war in Gaza; Hamas refused to sign any deal that didn’t include that. Meanwhile, thousands of Palestinians died, and the situation of the hostages has continuously deteriorated. Israeli officials can’t say for certain how many of them are still alive.

Israeli peace activist Gershon Baskin, who played a key role in the 2011 Israel-Hamas negotiations that led to the release of Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit, has been insisting for months that only one deal is truly possible: the release of all hostages in return for the release of thousands of Palestinian prisoners; an Israeli withdrawal from Gaza; and an end to the war. Netanyahu’s far-right governing coalition partners, who hold the keys to his political survival, oppose this deal. So far, the prime minister has preferred their support over the hostages’ release.

This deal was on the table when Omri’s video was released, half-a-year ago, and it remains the only real option for a deal today. Omri remains in Gaza, in the hands of the enemy, while we wait for the urgency of his release to overcome cynical political calculations.

On November 23, Tibon recalled the temporary ceasefire that had brought about the release of some 100 hostages a year earlier – a “miracle” to which Israelis responded with “tears of sadness, but also tears of joy”:

When that agreement collapsed at the end of November, and the fighting in Gaza resumed, everyone assumed that within weeks, or at most, several months, another deal will be reached, and the almost 140 hostages who were not released will then be returned. This turned out to be a delusion. A year has passed since those last happy days of November, and no progress has been made in the negotiations for a second deal.

The obstacle has been, and remains, the gap between Hamas and the Netanyahu government on one main question: will the second deal include a clear commitment on behalf of Israel to end the war. Hamas says that without this, it won’t release the hostages; Netanyahu refuses, and is willing to only accept a temporary cease-fire after which the fighting in Gaza will resume. The Biden administration has tried to square this circle for a year now to no avail. Sadly, instead of facing up to the sad truth – that only ending the war will bring back the hostages alive – the administration, especially Secretary of State Antony Blinken and National Security Adviser Jake Sullivan, has been lying to itself and to the families of the hostages that a deal on Netanyahu’s terms is possible.

Time is running out for the hostages who have so far somehow survived the unbearable conditions they are being held in. We can still save them, but only if we tell the truth. A deal can be reached – if it leads to the war’s end. Anything else is a waste of time – and time is the one thing we cannot afford to lose.

‘They are out of words – and they each say that’

As I write on November 25, Israel is about to sign a ceasefire agreement with Hezbollah in Lebanon. The ceasefire in the north may help create conditions for a ceasefire deal in Gaza that would lead to the release of the hostages – or it may not. Meanwhile, Netanyahu’s office has been roiled by the deepening “BibiLeaks” scandal, which, as Amos Harel wrote in Haaretz on November 22,

is suspected to have included stealing classified documents, doctoring them and sending them to media outlets in Israel and abroad, while bypassing the military censors. The goal was to mold Israelis’ opinions, undercut the hostage families’ struggle and thwart pressure for progress in the hostage talks. In short, Netanyahu’s people tried to derail one of the war’s goals that the prime minister himself had articulated.

On November 24, the cabinet called on government agencies to boycott Haaretz, the Israeli newspaper that has been most critical of the Netanyahu government.

And on November 25, Jessica Steinberg went to another hostage demonstration in Jerusalem:

It was Monday afternoon in Jerusalem, and the fourth week of Mishmeret 101, or Shift 101, the latest in the various protest movements for the hostages.

It’s a women’s movement, gathered around the hostage mothers and everyone wears white while sitting on the ground outside a government building, whether it’s the Knesset or Netanyahu’s Jerusalem house or the President’s Residence. They sit for several hours, quietly, sometimes softly singing, sometimes with one of the hostage mothers getting up to say a few words at the beginning or end or middle.

But the idea here is that they are out of words – and they each say that, nearly every time.