The table is still set in front of the Tel Aviv Museum of Art, but the chairs provided for the guests remain hopelessly empty. On October 20, the long table was arranged in the heart of the city, near the army headquarters, symbolizing the wait for the 240 hostages held in Gaza by Hamas. Intended as a reminder, day after day, of the heavy absence of the men, women and children kidnapped on October 7, this phantom banquet has become the center of intense activity. Evening after evening, hundreds of anonymous people come here to be together, to show their solidarity. There are photos, flowers, art installations, candles, sales of T-shirts to aid the families. The square is now teeming with people chatting, singing and, increasingly, expressing their anger.

For the past 10 days, families have been taking turns sleeping in tents set up in the square. While behind-the-scenes negotiations to secure further releases are intensifying between Israel, the United States and Qatar – the main intermediary with Hamas – the hostages' relatives aim to step up the pressure on their government. Tel Aviv City Hall has provided them with a large room in the adjacent Beit Ariela municipal library, where they can shower and eat. Alongside them, a battalion of volunteers, under the leadership of the Bring Them Home Now association, is working hard to provide them with the help they need. This includes picking them up and taking them back to where they live, throughout Israel, as Noa Itzhak, who is in charge of taking care of the families, explains. The town's Labor mayor, Ron Huldai, visits several times a week to express his support.

As time went by, the atmosphere changed. The grief of the early days has given way to a kind of rage. Already, on November 6, hundreds of family members shouted their exasperation in Jerusalem, in front of the Knesset, Israel's parliament. A week later, on Monday, November 13, victims' relatives voiced their despair loudly into the microphone. "Sitting and singing quietly is no longer enough: we have to make noise," stressed Shai Wenkert, father of Omer, a 22-year-old boy kidnapped while attending the music festival where some 250 young people perished on October 7 in the Negev desert. He showed a photo of his son in his underpants, lying on his stomach with his hands tied behind his back, near what looks like a Gaza tunnel. What about the negotiations? "Let them do what they want: I just want my son back."

Like many others, especially those speaking at the microphone microphones, Wenkert directed his anger toward the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) rather than the government. Families have appealed to the humanitarian organization, which has a presence in Gaza, in the hope that it can intervene on behalf of their parents, brothers, sisters and children. "Omer has a digestive disease, he absolutely must be treated," said the father. "Especially as the stress is making his condition much worse." Even simple information would suffice or at least temper the uncertainty in which they find themselves. But as they see it, the ICRC refuses to intervene with Hamas, citing its neutrality. "I've written to them, but they haven't replied," said Wenkert. This attitude does not mean that they approve of Benjamin Netanyahu's government. Some even took part in the protests against the prime minister's reform of the justice system before the October 7 attack. "But even those who criticize the government continue to want to trust it. They have no choice: who else could they turn to?" said a Bring Them Home Now volunteer, himself very hostile to Netanyahu.

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