Netanyahu’s handling of the hostage crisis enrages Israelis

FOR NINE months the presidential residence in Jerusalem had been the site of angry and noisy rallies as every Saturday night Israelis protested against their government’s plans to clip the powers of the Supreme Court. Yet on October 22nd the hundreds who gathered there stood for hours in a largely silent vigil as President Isaac Herzog met relatives of the 220 Israelis confirmed to have been taken hostage in Gaza. Most of those abducted in an attack by Hamas on October 7th are civilians. Among them are babies and the elderly. As the families came out after the meeting, there were muted cries from the crowd of “bring them home now!”

On the surface this was a non-political display of solidarity. But the vigil also had echoes of the earlier protests and the political discord that had been dividing Israel in the months leading up to the war. Many of those who had opposed the government’s judicial reforms were now supporting the hostages. As their gathering began, some heckled a prominent journalist known for his strident support for Binyamin Netanyahu, Israel’s embattled prime minister.

The plight of the hostages, which is at the forefront of Israelis’ minds, is primarily a humanitarian issue. Similar vigils have been held across the country. The hostages’ relatives are regularly interviewed on television and radio. But the issue is also deeply political. Many of those who lived on the kibbutzim that were attacked are secular and left-leaning. These are the sorts of Israelis who were most likely to be active in the protests against Mr Netanyahu’s government, which they feel forsook them on October 7th and is still failing them.

Pressure from the families has already forced the government to change its plans. Although it was originally inclined to rush into Gaza without regard for the hostages’ safety, the government has since announced that their rescue is a “top priority”. The hope of an agreement with Hamas on releasing at least some hostages is one reason Israel’s invasion of Gaza has been delayed.

Yet for many families, the government is not doing nearly enough to bring their loved ones home. In an office tower in central Tel Aviv, just around the corner from the defence ministry and headquarters of the Israel Defence Force, the families have set up their own headquarters staffed by hundreds of volunteers. A large private organisation has been created to fill a gap left by the government. This organisation passes on information to the authorities that the families have received about the hostages and, in turn, keeps them informed. A team is assigned to every family to ensure that they have the support they need. Media consultants set up interviews with the Israeli and international press. This is because it is up to the families to ensure that the hostages are not forgotten, says Leah, the sister of Moran Stella Yanai, who was seen cowering in a field with a gunman standing over her in a video posted on social media.

The new organisation also includes teams of former diplomats who are liaising with foreign governments. Former Israeli spy chiefs with extensive contacts throughout the Arab world are serving as negotiators. Israeli tech companies have joined together to comb through thousands of hours of footage on social media for any sign of the hostages and to track signals from their mobile phones. This is not the first time that the families of Israeli captives have launched campaigns of their own and put pressure on the government to act. But it is happening far more quickly—and on a vastly greater scale—than ever before.

The families’ headquarters was set up by David Zalmonovich, a lawyer whose 21-year-old nephew, Omer Shem Tov, was abducted from a music festival. Mr Shem Tov, a student, was identified by his tattoo in a video showing a truck carrying hostages in Gaza. “We’re not replacing the government,” Mr Zalmonovich is at pains to say. “We’re complementing them.” But many of the other relatives are less diplomatic, some having waited for over a week for any contact with the government or any formal notification from it. “We understood from day one that no one in the government is working for us,” says Shira Albag, whose 18-year-old daughter, Liri, was seen in a video being dragged out of a jeep in Gaza in her bloodied pyjamas. “Instead the Israeli public is.”

That is a view shared by some of the experts involved. “We’re doing the government’s job for the families, because there is no trust in the government,” says an Israeli former  diplomat who has been co-ordinating meetings between relatives and foreign ambassadors.

One of the reasons for distrust is because Mr Netanyahu, who had been distracted by his corruption trial and his government’s efforts to enfeeble the courts, vacillated for nine months over the appointment of a national co-ordinator for hostage and prisoner-of-war affairs, even though two civilians were being held in Gaza during that time. It was only after Hamas’s attack that he named Gal Hirsch, a controversial general who was forced to resign in 2006 after criticism of his command during a war in Lebanon. Previously this role had been given to senior officials in Israel’s intelligence services with extensive experience of secret dealings with terrorist organisations, which Mr Hirsch lacks. Many think his main qualification is loyalty to the prime minister.

One of the families’ worst torments is the almost total lack of information about the health of the hostages and the conditions in which they are being held. Many families are still unsure whether their relatives have been killed or were abducted. Around 80 people are missing apart from the 220 known hostages, according to lists compiled by the families and the Israeli authorities. Dozens of bodies, many of them mutilated or burnt beyond recognition,  are still being identified by DNA.

Footage from October 7th shows that in at least some cases bodies were taken into Gaza and that some of the hostages Hamas claims to be holding are dead. Adding to the uncertainty is Israel’s assessment that other organisations, such as Islamic Jihad and even crime groups, rushed through the holes in the border fence made by Hamas to capture hostages of their own. They are all now bargaining chips: each set of captors will have its price.

Hamas has so far released four female prisoners: two American-Israeli citizens and two elderly Israelis. America negotiated their release through Hamas’s Qatari patrons. The relief felt by their families is mixed with concern for their other relatives who are still held hostage and their anger that the Israeli government isn’t more involved in trying to secure their release.

The families’ frustration is understandable. So too is the difficulty faced by any government at war to locate hundreds of missing civilians and soldiers, identify bodies and keep each family constantly updated. This is true even for a country like Israel, which has ample experience of such matters. But the anguish of the hostages’ families is feeding a wider fury felt by many Israelis over what they see as the government’s slow and inept provision of relief to the communities devastated by Hamas and to the thousands who have been forced to leave their homes.

Since the attack, the movement opposing Mr Netanyahu’s government has suspended all demonstrations against it. But the respite may not last. ■