In a powerful and meticulously staged event on Saturday at Palestine Square in Gaza, Hamas presented four Israeli female soldiers, captured during the events of October 7, 2023, shortly before their release.

Far from being a mere display of power, the event was a layered performance imbued with symbolism, challenging dominant narratives and offering a stark commentary on the asymmetry of power in the ongoing war. The scene, with its theatrical flair, carried deliberate meaning, demanding closer analysis.

The captured soldiers ascended the platform, not as trembling captives but composed and unbroken. Dressed in their military uniforms, they displayed a surprising air of calm, their demeanour remarkably unshaken, their health and appearance pristine – a point later confirmed by Israeli authorities.

One Israeli soldier’s intricately braided hair, a detail that may initially seem trivial, stood out as a profound symbol. The hairstyle requires time and effort to braid, symbolising care, self-possession, and a sense of agency. This subtle detail challenges the narrative of total victimhood by presenting the individual as composed and cared for, even in captivity.

Through these carefully chosen details, Hamas appeared to be urging its audience to reconsider their assumptions, presenting these captives not as objects of pity but as pawns in a broader geopolitical game.

As the soldiers disembarked from Hamas vehicles, they greeted the crowd —with smiles and waves. The thousands in attendance responded with cheers, whistles, and laughter, creating a surreal atmosphere that transcended the usual dynamics of animosity and fear.

This peculiar exchange of gestures—a crowd cheering their captives, and captives responding with apparent ease—challenged the traditional tropes of wartime propaganda.

There was no visible sign of terror in their eyes, no flinching at the possibility of a rogue bullet or an act of revenge. Instead, their unguarded laughter and repeated waves suggested a surreal sense of security, as if they were on a stage where the rules of war had been temporarily suspended.

The crowd's cheers served not just as support for Hamas but a reflection of a deeper, more visceral connection to the symbols and messages being conveyed.

Keffiyeh lanyards

Each soldier carried a gift, ostensibly bestowed by Hamas. Around their necks hung identification cards, the lanyards emblazoned with the iconic Palestinian keffiyeh pattern.

These were more than mere accessories; they were reminders of the enduring Palestinian struggle. The keffiyeh, a symbol of resilience and defiance, bore the weight of decades of resistance.

Adorning the necks of the captives, they whispered as a quiet assertion of Palestinian legitimacy and struggle. As if Hamas was declaring, "Even in your captivity, you bear witness to our cause."

On the stage, behind them loomed a vast backdrop featuring the Palestinian flag and the emblem of the Al-Aqsa Flood operation. These symbols were deeply significant, reinforcing the themes of victory and perseverance, offering a visual anchor for the Palestinian narrative.

Armed Hamas fighters later ascended the stage, displaying weapons reportedly seized during the October 7 attacks. These were more than just spoils of war, rather trophies that symbolised not only military success; but also represented defiance in the face of occupation and a tangible rebuttal to the overwhelming force wielded by Israel.

The juxtaposition of these weapons with the smiling soldiers created a stark visual narrative that was hard to ignore. While their presence on the stage was a reminder that even amidst the spectacle, the reality of violence lurked just beneath the calculated polish of propaganda

The performance of power

Hamas’ choice to present these hostages in good health, smiling and engaging with the crowd, was a deliberate act of messaging. It stood in stark contrast to the suffering endured daily by Palestinians. By presenting this tableau of control and civility, Hamas sought to challenge the prevailing portrayal of its fighters as ruthless and uncaring.

Yet beneath this veneer, there were glimpses of the underlying tensions and the psychological toll of war—through the constant vigilance of Hamas fighters, their repeated glances towards the sky betraying ever-present anxiety as Israeli warplanes hovered overhead, a reminder of the human cost borne by all sides in this enduring conflict.

The laughter and apparent ease of the Israeli soldiers were not merely reflections of their treatment but a calculated narrative device. This was a statement of dominance, a reminder that even in captivity, these soldiers were participants in a broader performance of resistance.

The event was as much about controlling the narrative as it was about demonstrating power, and in this theatre, Hamas sought to recast itself not merely as the protector of Gaza, but as a movement rooted in legitimacy and justice.

Even the presence of the Red Cross – who were on-hand to transport the soldiers back to Israel – signing documents under the "Al-Aqsa Flood" banner presented a clear paradox.

While their involvement reaffirmed commitment to humanitarian standards, it also placed their neutrality within a politically charged context. For Hamas, the moment symbolised legitimacy, blending its identity as a resistance movement with its capacity to manage prisoner affairs.

For the Red Cross, it was a delicate balance between fulfilling their humanitarian duty and avoiding entanglement in the surrounding narrative. The act of signing itself—an emblem of order amidst chaos—reflected the contradictions of war, fragile and precarious.

The subtext of care

The event at Palestine Square was a microcosm of the broader conflict—a stage where power, identity, and survival converged in a vivid display of symbolism.

Every gesture, every detail, spoke to the resilience of a people who continue to fight against occupation and dispossession. It was a performance that laid bare both the strength and the vulnerabilities of those involved, offering a powerful counter-narrative to the dominant portrayal of the conflict.

As the world watches, one thing remains clear: the struggle for justice and freedom in Palestine is about reclaiming the narrative as much as it is about the tangible realities on the ground. This theatre of war is about what is seen and what is hidden, the masks we wear and the faces beneath them.