Since October 7th – the day Operation Iron Swords began – the Engerst family from Kiryat Bialik has lived the same day over and over again. Their son, Matan, an armored fighter, was first thought to be missing, then missing – and finally kidnapped to Gaza.
The Israeli public was given the opportunity, to some extent, to return to normal. For the family and the community around them – time stood still. Every day the understanding sharpens that Matan's absence continues, and that there is no end in sight. They do not rest, they do not forget – and most of all, they do not remain silent.
The stage where silence was replaced by struggle
At first, the family took a quiet line. There was hope that the state systems would operate efficiently – and that silence would help. But as time passed, the pattern changed. Silence does not keep Matan’s name in the public consciousness. His presence depends on the voices that choose to mention him, again and again.
In places where the abductees became shadows in the public consciousness, Matan's community – friends, residents, teachers and students – chose to act. Local initiatives took on a public character, messages of support became field actions, and the struggle – became visible.
Dokorski: "I will do everything to ensure that the city's resident returns – even without American citizenship"
Kiryat Bialik Mayor Eli Dokorsky has been with the family since the beginning. He says the entire municipality stands behind the Engerst family – but also does not ignore the difficult gap in reality.
"We will not rest until Matan returns home," said Dokorski. "I have supported this family from the first moment, meeting with them, marching with them, working with them and with the state - and I will do everything so that a resident of Kiryat Bialik returns from captivity, even if he does not have American citizenship that helps him be released. He is ours, he is a citizen of the city, and our hearts are with him all the time."
An empty chair at an intersection – an urban symbol
Near the Tzabar intersection in Kiryat Bialik, a simple yet moving yellow installation was placed: a chair. One empty chair – as a symbol of Matan’s presence in his absence. The installation was created by students at the city’s “Otzma” high school, in a project that took on new meaning as time passed.
Behind the chair stand young people who have chosen to remind, in their own unique way, that there are those who have not yet returned. They do not know Matan closely, but his story penetrated them through classroom conversations, activities, and quiet listening to stories. Even at the chair inauguration ceremony, it was clear that this was an event that brought generations together – between students and a city that carries the pain of one soldier within it.
A journey to Poland – and a picture of one soldier who didn’t join
This year, a student delegation from Kiryat Bialik set out for the extermination camps in Poland. Matan himself was supposed to travel as part of a similar delegation five years ago – but the coronavirus pandemic canceled that trip. Students on the current delegation took a photo of themselves in one of the camps holding his picture, as an act of remembrance and identification.
Mayor Dokorski, who was part of the delegation, referred to the moving moment when the names of Matan's relatives who perished in the Holocaust were read out. "It was clear to me that because Matan was supposed to go on the delegation to Poland and didn't go because of the coronavirus and now he's not free to do what he wants, I would read out the names of his relatives who perished in the Holocaust in his place. It was a very powerful and moving moment, and I'm sure it will accompany the students and me for a long time. Matan's father, Hagai, saw the video from the extermination camp and asked me to address the students who went on the delegation and ask them for one more request. I told the students that he was asking that when Matan finally returns to Kiryat Bialik, they accompany him, and their answer was clear."
March for Freedom
This coming Saturday, 24/05/2025, the traditional city march will take place in Kiryat Bialik – and this year it is entirely dedicated to calling for Matan's release. Thousands of residents will participate in two routes: a short and accessible one, and a longer one for the whole family. Signs with Matan's name will be hung on the city streets, and his image will accompany the marchers.
This is the message they want to convey in the city: It is impossible to return to full routine as long as soldiers are still being held captive. Every step in this march was a living reminder – that the struggle is not over.
When return depends on the passport
At a time when foreign nationals have begun to return home, the gap has widened. The return of American or European abductees, for whom international diplomacy has been used, highlights the sense of helplessness of many families. In Kiryat Bialik, people are not only asking when Matan will return – but also why he hasn't yet.
This frustration is understandable. It touches the heart of a basic sense of justice. There should be no difference between citizen and citizen, between soldier and soldier. But reality dictates other dynamics – which further shake those left behind.
Daily presence
In Kiryat Bialik, Matan has not been forgotten. His name and signs with his face appear everywhere – in schools, in the city hall, on the main street. Students are involved in educational projects, citizens participate in demonstrations, and the municipality allocates resources – each in their own way. But even in a city like this, it is impossible to obscure the fact that, ultimately, this struggle does not have a single address. Local efforts are important – but they are no substitute for national responsibility. The decision is in the hands of the state, and it is the state that must return Matan – and the rest of the abductees – home.
Matan Angrest's name should not only be heard at demonstrations or ceremonies. Not just for the sake of media balance or as a one-time identification. His story – like that of many others – is a moral compass, and it requires not only empathy, but also ongoing action. Until he returns – the empty chair will remain there. Reminding us all that we cannot accept a reality in which soldiers are kidnapped and do not return for nearly 600 days.
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