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Whatever their intent, it surely backfired. Israelis were not frightened by the images.
By HERB KEINON JANUARY 30, 2025 19:29 Updated: JANUARY 30, 2025 19:48
Palestinian Hamas terrorists stand guard before the release of hostages in the southern Gaza Strip, January 30, 2025
(photo credit: REUTERS/Ramadan Abed)
What were they thinking?
That question kept running through my mind Thursday, watching the uplifting images of Agam Berger being reunited with her family and the blood-curdling pictures of the frenzied mob that Gadi Moses and Arbel Yehud had to walk through on their way to freedom.
I was not wondering what Agam, Gadi, or Arbel were thinking -- I could fairly imagine that. Rather, I wondered what the mob was thinking and what people abroad were thinking about Israel as they watched these scenes unfold.
What were the terrorists outside Yahya Sinwar’s home in Khan Yunis thinking when they decided this was the way they wanted to return an 80-year-old man and 29-year-old woman they kidnapped from their homes? What did they hope to achieve by releasing captives in such a contemptible manner?
Were they hoping—with their minions dressed up like evil Ninja Turtles—to scare Israelis? Were they trying to humiliate us? What was the point?
Whatever their intent, it surely backfired. Israelis were not frightened by the images—except for the deep fear they felt for Arbel and Gadi, who had to endure this additional torment. But as a nation, they were not frightened or intimidated. They were enraged.
If anything, those images only strengthened the resolve of the vast majority that Hamas and Islamic Jihad must be destroyed. That these are barbarians with whom there is no common denominator.
It only strengthened the public’s resolve that the country must ensure they never again have the means to carry out their evil designs and an understanding that this fight is far from over.
It only bolstered the argument that once all the hostages are released, Israel must resume the war in Gaza to topple Hamas from power unless they give up voluntarily.
And it solidified the conviction that under no circumstances can Hamas be allowed to control Gaza again -- that as far as Israel is concerned, there can be no talk of rebuilding or reconstructing Gaza until Hamas is disarmed and removed from power. None.
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Reminder of who Israel is up against
It is strange, after October 7, to think that Israelis needed another reminder of whom they are up against -- of the DNA, as one television reporter put it , of their enemy. But they got that reminder again. And that, too, will have consequences.
One of the most chilling images from the Second Intifada was the picture of Aziz Salha, who had just taken part in the murder of two reservists who mistakenly drove into Ramallah in 2000, holding up his bloodstained hands to a cheering crowd. (the IDF killed Salha in Deir al-Balah in October).
That image hardened Israelis, even those who were in favor of Oslo-style concessions to the Palestinians. The image of a petrified Arbel being led through a jeering and taunting mob will have a similar effect.
Then there are the pictures of the family reunions. What do people abroad think when they see those images? What do they think when they realize that to secure those images, Israel released terrorists responsible for the brutal murder of dozens of Israelis?
Do they think the state has lost its mind? Or are they thinking that this is the strength of the state, that this type of solidarity—willing to release bloodthirsty terrorists so that two young women and an elderly man can live—is the secret to the country’s survival?
Hostages who have already been freed have spoken about how captivity was easier when they weren’t alone -- when they had someone to endure it with. Hardships are easier to bear when shared.
Right now, Israel is experiencing the hardship of emotional whiplash. But the shock is easier to absorb when everyone is feeling it together—the deep lows of Arbel and Gadi’s parade through hate, the soaring high of Agam’s embrace with her family. Alone, this would be unbearable. But we are not alone. We are experiencing this together, as a nation and as a people.
These conflicting emotions—grief and relief, rage and joy—bind us. They don’t unite us around a particular policy but in something deeper: a shared experience of feeling like one people, aching together, exulting together, and feeling deeply the joys and sorrows of our compatriots. However painful its source, that unity is a pillar of this country’s strength.
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