There are certain stories that just never go away. They don’t get swallowed up by the 24-hour news. They get on your nerves, drop by drop, day by day, hour by hour.

In Israel, you encounter this story everywhere you go.

As soon as you land at Ben Gurion Airport, you are greeted by images of the hostages captured by Hamas ten months ago. Their faces are plastered across the country on billboards and posters. In the cosmopolitan city of Tel Aviv, these faces are everywhere, on the streets, on the seafront, in Dizengoff Square, where a circular fountain displays photos of hostages (dead or alive) adorned with colorful memorabilia and personal notes. It acts like an art installation, visible from every cafe or bar in the area.

I saw the Dizengoff Fountain on a recent Saturday night as I walked with some friends to Kaplan Square to join the thousands of Israelis chanting “Bring them home,” as they do week after week, month after month.

But it is not just the posters and demonstrations that keep the hostage story alive. The very idea of ​​people languishing in a mysterious hell sticks in the mind, especially if you are part of your own group. Israel is a small country. Everyone has a friend, relative or neighbor who has lost someone in a war or terrorist attack, or who knows someone who knows someone who knows a hostage. Even for those who don’t know, the images of the victims are all too familiar. They could be your own family. They look like any Israeli you can see anywhere in Israel.

Even though there is sympathy for the hostages in large parts of Israeli society, one should not overlook the cold calculation behind the endless negotiations for their release.

When Israelis see these faces, they cannot help but put themselves in the shoes of a parent, brother, sister, child or grandparent of that hostage and empathize with their torment.

Many Israelis still remember the country’s jubilation on October 18, 2011, when hostage Gilad Shalit was released after five years and four months of Hamas captivity in exchange for 1,027 Palestinian prisoners. Yes, the price was extremely high – looking back, many say far too high – but on that day Israelis did not think about the price. They thought about a fellow Israeli who had languished in fear and terror for five long years; about a father who never stopped fighting for his son’s release; about all those close to Shalit, who had been tormented by his absence and who could now embrace him.

On October 7, 18 years after Shalit’s hostage-taking, 251 Israelis, including women, children and the elderly, were kidnapped on the darkest day in Israeli history. No one knows exactly how many of them are still alive. After an initial hostage exchange in November in which 50 hostages were released, Hamas is believed to currently hold 115 hostages, of whom 74 are still alive.

The story of Gilad Shalit is instructive because it helps us sense the transcendent significance of October 7. If the country exploded with joy when one prisoner was released, can you imagine what kind of national euphoria would greet the return of the remaining 74 hostages? The lingering trauma of October 7 runs so deep in Israel that author and journalist Matti Friedman said in a recent interview, “Israelis are still living on October 7. It’s like Groundhog Day here.”

But even if there is sympathy for the hostages in large parts of Israeli society, one must not overlook the cold calculation behind the endless negotiations for their release.

The big news this week is that there is “optimism” that a ceasefire and hostage situation may finally be resolved. But no one is overly excited; too many hopes have already been dashed.

The reality is that, regardless of the lip service to the hostage cause, political and strategic considerations dominate. The Biden administration has a significant interest in preventing a full-scale regional war between Iran, Hezbollah and Israel. It is vigorously pushing for a ceasefire that it believes will help prevent that war. Hamas, on the other hand, wants nothing more than a regional war that would divert focus from its own war with Israel. Nor does it believe Israel will agree to end the war.

Meanwhile, no one is quite sure what is going on in Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s mind. Is he hesitant to agree to a ceasefire because he fears his far-right partners could overthrow his government? Would an end to the Gaza war that leaves Hamas “alive” be a bitter defeat given his widely proclaimed goal of “total victory” over the terror group? Did he order the assassination of a Hamas leader in Tehran to provoke a confrontation with Iran that would allow Israel to crush the existential threat posed by the regime’s nuclear program? Perhaps some or all of the above? Perhaps something else?

The point is that the parties involved in the negotiations are not too upset by the haunting images of hostages flooding the streets of Israel and etched in the hearts of Israelis. When you’re preoccupied with strategy and the big picture, hostages can perhaps seem like an emotional distraction, especially if you see ending the war in Gaza as an unacceptable red line. This is Netanyahu’s moment of truth. His preferred tactic of buying himself some time is running out on him. He knows that the majority of the country, including the US and his own defense establishment, supports the deal. If he is secretly opposed to a ceasefire and the deal collapses, we can expect a blame game between him and Hamas.

Here in Los Angeles, above the noise of war, the strategy talks, and the high drama of the “final” negotiations, my heart cries out to those whose voices we cannot hear.