In any other country, an act that came second in Eurovision, who received the highest number of public votes in the competition’s history, would be assured a celebratory, all-guns-blazing homecoming party.
But for the lat 18 months, Israel has not been like any other country. When a 24-year-old female singer makes Eurovision history, her homecoming concert is accompanied by immense sadness. We nearly won, but we’re at war. Yuval Raphael is a national hero, but there are still 58 hostages in Gaza. The crowd should be more energetic, but we were woken at 2:30am by sirens because of an incoming ballistic missile. Unencumbered happiness and pure joy don’t really exist here in the same way any more, anything good in Israel is bittersweet.
In this warped reality, it’s logical, therefore, that Raphael’s first public performance after returning from Basel took place at Hostages Square in Tel Aviv – a focal point for the collective hope and sadness that has co-existed since October 7.
I arrive 15 minutes before her scheduled start time and I’m surprised to see there’s not many people here. I take my pick from the plastic chairs assembled in front of the stage, choosing a yellow one a few rows back.
I notice an unfathomable number on the LED screen to the left of the stage. This digital clock, which counts every moment since the first hostage was kidnapped, was distressing enough when it said 20, 30 or 50 days. I wept when I saw it on the cold and depressing 100th day. But now it says 593 days, 13 hours and 53 minutes. The number only ever increases. Next week, barring a miracle, the 5 will change to a 6 and we’ll be marking 600 days since the hostages were dragged at gunpoint into Gaza. And this is the context for our record-breaking national celebration.
Our Eurovision almost-winner will be here soon. The crowd is thickening. Armed police, soldiers, and seniors mix and mingle with middle-aged Americans on a Solidarity Mission; parents with small children and people like me who just felt they had to come. A photographer has a long-lens camera in his left hand; an M16 rifle slung over his right shoulder.
Keren Peles and Yuval Raphael [Missing Credit]
Keren Peles, New Day Will Rise’s composer and lyricist, sings an emotional solo song, then she introduces Raphael. Walking on stage in ripped jeans, black vest and a grey cardigan, she looks unassuming, a bit like a sixth former, not like a Queen who just faced down all the anti-semites in Europe. “I just want to tell you how excited I am to be here,” she says quietly before she starts to sing. Accompanied by Peles without the Eurovision’s pre-recorded backing track, it’s the first time I’ve heard an acoustic version of the song and stripped back, it’s quieter, bare, more vulnerable. There are no glittering chandeliers, winged costumes or pyrotechnics. Yet even in this low-key staging, Yuval is still phenomenal. Her voice, especially on the early parts, is delicate and beautiful. Peles, often with eyes closed, looks visibly moved at various points.
The crowd at hostage square[Missing Credit]
I’m so proud of her. But I don’t know her. Raphael has such a gift for communicating with her audience, but tonight she’s singing not to professional juries or die-hard Eurovision fans – she’s singing to the 58 hostages, in particular to Evyatar David, 24, a music lover who was taken hostage at the Nova festival. He was last seen in a Hamas propaganda video in March, forced to watch a hostage release ceremony from inside a van, begging the Israeli government to save him. His family has held weekly “Jams for Evyatar” in Hostages Square for the past year and a half and tonight Yuval Raphael – herself a Nova festival survivor – is the warm-up act.
The lyrics of the final verse feel more poignant here than they did on the global stage. Before she’s finished, the crowd erupts into cheers – “Our Champion!” – someone shouts. There’s not a boo to be heard. Raphael blows kisses, tells us she loves us and ends with a heartfelt plea: “May the hostages return home soon – now,” she says. “There isn’t anything more important than this in the world. Amen, Amen, Amen.” And with that, the sun sets, male musicians begin tuning up, Evyatar’s cousin introduces herself – and Raphael’s victory concert is over. It’s five minutes of quasi-relief, surrounded by hours and days of longing and pain. A very 2025 celebration in Israel.
