Inspired by Gandhi, white-clad hostage mothers silently scream in protest
In a new strategy, the Mishmeret 101 rallies are nonviolent and apolitical, with shifts of protesters revolving around families of those abducted by Hamas-led terrorists on Oct. 7
Jessica Steinberg, The Times of Israel's culture and lifestyles editor, covers the Sabra scene from south to north and back to the center
On a recent Monday afternoon, a group of women dressed in white sat quietly on the asphalt near the Knesset in Jerusalem facing a small inner circle — the hostage mothers.
They were part of Mishmeret 101, which roughly translates to Shift 101, the latest in a series of protests beseeching the government to strike a deal for the return of the remaining hostages held by terrorists in Gaza, 101 in number — 97 abducted during the Hamas massacre in southern Israel on October 7 last year, plus two Israeli civilians who entered the Strip in 2014 and 2015, as well as the bodies of two IDF soldiers who were killed in 2014.
Not all the hostages are presumed to be alive, and based on new intelligence information, the IDF announced on Monday that Cpt. Omer Neutra, an American citizen, was killed in a Hamas attack on his tank on October 7 and his body is being held in the Strip. Until now, it was believed that Neutra was being held alive.
Mishmeret 101’s quiet protests, launched about a month ago, are modeled after the nonviolent protests staged by Mahatma Gandhi in India in the 1930s to fight British imperialism.
Proposed by Prof. Yoram Yovell, a Hebrew University psychiatrist and brain researcher, the apolitical gatherings focus on quiet, powerful protests for the hostages and are meant to appeal to a wide swath of society. Yovell sometimes attends the gatherings, but prefers not to be interviewed.
“I’m out of words,” said Shira Albag, mother of hostage Liri Albag, as she stood in front of the gathering on the cold Jerusalem afternoon.
Albag looked out at the dozens of people seated in the middle of Ruppin Boulevard, a major artery in Jerusalem that accesses the Knesset, the National Library and the Israel Museum. “I love you all for being here,” she said.
The women — and some men — sat quietly, without posters or placards, without images of hostages on their shirts, or any of the accoutrements that generally accompany other activists at other protests. There was no yelling or shouting, only people dressed in white, sitting in the middle of a busy intersection, forcing cars and buses to drive around them but not stopping the flow of traffic entirely.
Toward the middle of the group sat Varda Ben Baruch, the grandmother of hostage Edan Alexander, a soldier in the Golani Brigade’s 51st Battalion who was taken captive on the morning of October 7. This week, the Hamas terrorist group released a video of Alexander, ostensibly filmed recently, which was the first sign of life the family had received in months.
Ben Baruch and some of the other hostage family members had spent the morning in the Knesset, with the Committee on the Status of Women and Gender Equality as it marked International Day for Elimination of Violence Against Women.
“Being together does me good,” said Ben Baruch. “It’s so important that we’re not sitting alone, that the Israeli nation joins us.”
Toward the front of the circle, Albag sat next to fellow protesters Ayelet Levy Shachar, mother of surveillance soldier Naama Levy, and Yarden Gonen, sister of hostage Romi Gonen, who was taken hostage from the Nova rave.
They sat cross-legged, sometimes leaning over to speak to one another, sometimes glancing at their phones.
From the First Lady to everywoman
During some shifts public figures have joined the women, as on a recent afternoon outside the President’s Residence when Michal Herzog, the wife of President Isaac Herzog, sat on the ground holding hands with Niva Wenkert, mother of hostage Omer Wenkert, and Simone Steinbrecher, mother of hostage Doron Steinbrecher.
When Steinbrecher rose to speak on that afternoon, she spoke about the Ofra Haza song “HaKotel” (The Western Wall), which likens the stones of the holy site to the human heart, and expressed her hope that the government will have a heart and make a hostage deal. After she finished speaking, the group softly sang the song.
“Being active helps me,” said Steinbrecher, who was evacuated with her family from their home in Kibbutz Kfar Aza near the Gaza Strip on October 7. She and her husband currently live with the other Kfar Aza evacuees at Kibbutz Shefayim, in the country’s center.
“I go to every kind of protest and gathering, but sitting like this, quietly and faithfully, shows the power in the silence,” said Steinbrecher, who still hopes that Doron will survive captivity, and return home to her life and work as a veterinary nurse. Her daughter’s two rescue dogs live with her other daughter, also evacuated with her family to Shefayim.
There’s a low buzz of voices at each gathering, as those in attendance speak quietly to one another.
Sometimes an attendee will call out “We are here for you!” when a mother speaks. The group will often sing softly together, Hebrew songs about motherhood or anguish — like “Ima” (Mother), made famous in 1985 by singer Zohar Argov.
Family at the forefront
Mishmeret 101 is organized almost organically, with the help of unobtrusive volunteers who prioritize the hostage mothers and relatives. The three-hour shifts are held three afternoons a week, on Monday and Wednesday in Jerusalem and the Friday shift often in Tel Aviv.
Updates regarding the days, times and locations are relayed to participants through a WhatsApp group.
There are no official speakers, although one of the hostage mothers will often get up and speak briefly during the shift or toward the end, thanking everyone for supporting them.
Eilat, a regular volunteer at Mishmeret 101, is a Tel Aviv mother of three who was employed in Israel’s security services until just before October 7 last year. She has one son who is a combat soldier, and her husband retired recently from active reserve duty.
“I’m at every kind of protest every day,” she said. “A hostage mother thanked me for what I’m doing and I told her I’m not only coming for them, I’m coming for myself. Israel won’t survive if this is how the government acts toward its citizens, toward its soldiers.”
On November 27, Mishmeret 101 gathered again, this time on Azza Road in Jerusalem, in front of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s home.
The hostage mothers were joined by others formerly from their ranks, including former hostage Gabriela Leimberg, Keren Schem, the mother of ex-hostage Mia Schem, and Jon Polin and Rachel Goldberg, the parents of hostage Hersh Goldberg-Polin, who was killed by his captors along with five other hostages in a Gaza tunnel in late August.
“Rabbi Nachman of Breslov describes a ‘silent scream,’ in which he teaches that when calling out to God from the depths of one’s misery or pain it is possible to scream extremely loudly in a ‘small still voice,'” Rachel Goldberg-Polin told The Times of Israel after her shift.
“Mishmeret 101 is a powerful expression of this ‘silent scream.’ For us, there is nothing more important right now than sitting quietly together with the hostage families — whose loved ones are still being held in Gaza on day 418 — to quietly scream for their release, calling out to the decision-makers that they must bring home the 101 hostages now, before it is too late,” she said.
Leimberg and Schem, along with Polin, recorded statements asking more Israelis to come out and join the various protests for the hostages.
“What bothered me is how much smaller the crowds are at the recent rallies,” said Polin, speaking to the gathering. “It’s dangerous that the matter of the hostages isn’t as much a part of the public agenda any longer. At the next Mishmeret, come back and bring a neighbor, or a friend, or three or five friends. It’s so important that we keep talking about the hostages and finally succeed in bringing them home.”
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