Tel Aviv has been experiencing a trauma of repetition since October 7. The hubbub and youthful strength of its streets seems to have subsided since the massacre perpetrated that day by Hamas, whose echoes are heard daily, over and over again. Few people on the sidewalks, a small-town stillness. The citylooks as if it has regained some of its normality, but that return does not mark a return to the freshness and bohemia that characterizes it, but rather to a silence or an awareness that war is going strong, not so far from here.
For its inhabitants, that massacre in which cousins, friends, siblings, grandchildren, grandparents and children died continues to happen hour after hour. It is latent because 142 hostages are still being forcibly hidden somewhere in Gaza's clandestine pipelines. And it will not cease to affect them as long as they know that all that horror and hardship that took 1200,3500 lives and left <>,<> injured can happen again. There is a consensus on this: continue the war until Hamas is annihilated and then call elections.
A poster proposes: "You could be the kidnapped." Photo: Gonzalo Sánchez.
In numbers: the latest Peace Index, produced by Tel Aviv University, asked at the end of October, after three weeks of bombardment of Gaza, "How would you define the use that the Israeli army has made so far of its firepower?" 57.5% of respondents answered "too little", 36.6% said "too little" and only 1.8% said excessively.
There are no protests against the belligerent incursion. No one objects.
The walls, the trees, the stained glass windows, the squares, everywhere you look are the faces of the kidnapped people.
Everywhere one looks are the faces of the abducted people. Photo: Gonzalo Sánchez.
A poster proposes: "You could be the kidnapped."
A flea market whose LED screens do not show offers but the faces of those who have been taken to the other side of the wall, where bombs now fall without pause.
Urban artists intervened the sidewalk benches with human-sized teddy bears that are blindfolded or have blood on their skin, dolls that have been outraged or humiliated as so many have suffered the torments of radicalized Islamism two months ago. Each cuddly toy invites us to rethink that life has not been possible since then and that it will not be possible at least until the end of the war.
Sidewalk benches with outraged teddy bears, like the victims of October 7. Photo: Gonzalo Sánchez
Little is said about the nearly 18,<> deaths caused by the fire response inside the Gaza Strip, where there is no longer any safe place. Government officials explain that this is not the time to investigate whether there were data and reports that were ignored by Israel about a terrorist attack. There will be time, they say, to review the security flaws and look for those responsible, if any. But that will happen the day after.
When will the war in Gaza end?
Now, there seems to be rhetorical clarity beyond the UN and its calls for a ceasefire ultimately vetoed. The war will stop when three things happen: 1) the hostages are returned in full, 2) Hamas is annihilated, and 3) the reality in Gaza changes.
The explanation was offered to Clarín's envoy by the spokesman of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Lior Hayat, from his office in Jerusalem. Hayat is blunt: "The UN asked us for a ceasefire. Ceasefire was on October 6. To leave Hamas operational is to make it happen again on October 7. We will not wait and allow another massacre. The United Nations officials who call for this should resign. It's a disgrace," he says.
"Israel is paying a very high price for this war. Our sons are fighting, our brothers. We are all reservists. We are fighting for freedom and we know what we have to do," the official adds. "Hamas commits a double crime against humanity: when it attacked and murdered our people and when it used its civilian population as a shield to defend itself against our response. The UN should put its claim there," he concludes.
It's Sunday morning, the first working day, and the holy land, which is usually chaotic and overflowing, is moving slowly, as if it were the pandemic. Practically, there is no tourism in sight. Only local color, always captivating to the eyes of the Latin American foreigner.
The Jewish Quarter seems lively. The Hanukkah celebrations in front of the Western Wall are hours away. Four candles will be lit, with the new U.S. ambassador to Israel in attendance. The state of vigilance is total. You can't see it. But it's noticeable.
Armed Israelis, a common postcard among the Israeli population. Photo: Gonzalo Sánchez
Armed youths, a normality here, shop and walk with their families through the old markets. The monochromatic city, tinged by the color of the rock extracted from the quarries of Judea, has a special density. It is mystical and contrasting.
The Muslim quarter, once crowded with travelers, now looks empty and primitive. Mysterious at first glance. Lonely and animated by the echo of children running and playing without pause.
The Holy Sepulchre is living, not a time of sadness, but of massive absences. No one visits it, but it is still open, guarded by Franciscans or Greek Orthodox and barely visited by a few who come here to enjoy the privileges of an unprecedented silence, conducive to prayer. A Christian vendor offers rosaries.
In front of the Western Wall, Orthodox say their prayers, moving their bodies in reverence, as if trying to hit the wall. It's a party afternoon. The space looks like a geography without disputes or violence. The war doesn't seem to be here and, in fact, the intensity is in the South, an hour away by motorway. Geography stretches beyond cities.
Empty and silent streets. Tourism is gone. Photo: Gonzalo Sánchez.
The news, on the other hand, does appear on the Internet. On the front pages of digital newspapers or in dribs and drabs, on Channel 12 television. But the widespread humanitarian drama that is germinating inside the Gaza Strip is rarely present. Nor that the organization Médecins Sans Frontières announces that they are preparing for a "total and widespread humanitarian collapse" in Gaza.
Back in Tel Aviv, the night is once again for the young, diverse and multicultural. In spite of everything, almost 70 days after the beginning of the horror.