Gasps echoed through the aisles as the plane touched down in Tel Aviv, and passengers opened their phones for the first time in 12 hours. A man in front of me prayed. The first of the last twenty hostages had been freed! As we stood to exit the plane, all words were of the good news. You didn’t need to know Hebrew, French, or English to hear the exuberant joy and disbelieving relief in the voices.
Waiting for passport control, travelers stood in incredulous awe before the ubiquitous posters of hostages. In front of me in line, an African American tourist turned back to say, “I just feel Israeli today! Who wouldn’t, with a mood like this?” There were no taxis available as the visit by President Trump had shut the highway, but no one seemed to mind. I stopped to buy a train ticket, but an attendant batted me away. “No tickets today! No one should need tickets today!” He lifted the gate and waved me through.
Exiting the train in Tel Aviv, I was surrounded by people singing and dancing in the streets. The skyscrapers were covered in messages of thanksgiving. Hamas had, in their usual cruelty, stretched out the release of the hostages over the whole day, which meant that with each passing moment, there was new good news. Pushed along by the great crowd, I walked towards Hostage Square.
For the last two years, the question of the hostages– the two hundred and fifty-one innocent civilians of thirteen nations, kidnapped and tortured to instill fear in and extract concessions from a democratic state– has dominated Israel. But what nation would not be concerned with a hostage crisis of its own citizens on its own borders?
Significant international attention has been paid to the hostages, especially by Jews of the diaspora, including those with few or no ties to Israel. The horrific antisemitic attack on Boulder Jews this past summer highlighted a remarkable fact: in a small Colorado town, almost two years after the hostages were kidnapped, dozens were still marching weekly to raise awareness of their plight. Posters of the hostages hang across major American cities, patiently reposted after every antisemitic defacement. I met a man in rural New Hampshire who wore a dog tag reading “All of the hostages – now!” in Hebrew and English. He could not read Hebrew and had not attended a synagogue since his bar mitzvah fifty years before, but he felt compelled to keep raising awareness of the plight of the hostages.
It is tempting to argue that this sustained wave of activism by American Jews is nothing new. The majority of American Jews have always been supportive of both Israel and the plight of international Jews. But the attention and empathy paid by American Jews to the hostage crisis represent something deeper.
The postwar international order has been predicated on the mantra: ‘never again.’ Never again must civilians live in fear of kidnapping, torture, and abuse. We have not fully lived up to that dream, yet it persists, especially in Jews who have often been the victims of lawless regimes and irrational hate. Hamas’s kidnapping of the hostages represents a direct blow to that postwar order. Standing for the hostages was not just an act of solidarity by diaspora Jews. It was a defense of the rule of law, state authority, and democratic responsibility. If Hamas could take Jews in Israel hostage, civilians everywhere were at risk. But if the hostages were safe, all civilians of all nations would be safe.
Back in Hostage Square in Tel Aviv, hundreds of thousands had pressed into the square and the surrounding streets. Many were weeping. Others knelt on the ground, unable to stand from emotion. They were celebrating the return of twenty innocent human beings made to endure horrors. But they were also celebrating the return of a sense of dignity and justice that Hamas had robbed not just Israel, but the world of. Back in America, I am sure, they are celebrating the same thing.
By a JIJ Intern