Minutes after the fighting stopped in Gaza on Sunday, Islam Dahliz and his father and brother set out for the neighborhood where they had lived until Israeli forces ordered them to leave. They were looking for the family home, but the landscape around them scrambled the senses. Familiar landmarks, streets, neighbors’ houses — everything was rubble.

Then Mr. Dahliz recognized the local wedding hall, he said, or what remained of it. That meant their home stood — had stood — behind them, in a spot they had already passed. They just hadn’t recognized it, this house that Mr. Dahliz’s father had built more than 50 years ago.

“It took us a few minutes to accept that this pile of rubble was our home,” said Mr. Dahliz, 34, who works with local aid groups. They stood there, speechless.

His 74-year-old father, Abed Dahliz, felt the wind knocked out of him, he said. His sons had to help him back to their tent to rest.

“I was shocked when I saw my entire life — everything I worked for — flattened to the ground,” said Abed Dahliz, a farmer all his life, his voice soft and trembling. “The home I spent so many years building, pouring my savings into, is gone.”

This was not the moment they had hoped for and pictured all these months, as they were forced to move from tent to tent to tent, packing up and starting over four times in all. They had imagined a return. A resumption of their lives.

In their latest makeshift tent in a park in western Rafah, the southernmost city in Gaza, they had huddled on Sunday morning, when the cease-fire was supposed to take effect, glued to the radio. Islam Dahliz was on his phone, refreshing social media accounts for the latest news. The whole family tensed when they heard that the truce might collapse over a last-minute hitch: Hamas, Israel said, had not handed over the promised list of Israeli hostages to be freed from Gaza.

Then, at 11:15 a.m., the radio reported that the cease-fire was on. The father and the brothers got in the car, they said, and set out for home.

Home had been a spacious two-story house on al-Imam Ali Street in Rafah, built in 1971 and shared, like many homes in Gaza, by three generations of the same family. The parents lived in one apartment, and Mr. Dahliz, his wife and their children had another. He had put his savings toward a new kitchen, furniture and bedding when he came back to Gaza from Hungary, where he had been studying agricultural science, he recalled.

His brothers Mohammed and Anas had also lived there with their families, with another brother a half-mile away. It was big enough that during the first seven months of the war, the Dahlizes could host around 10 other families that had evacuated from elsewhere in Gaza.

Next door was their farm, started by their father and tended by Mohammed, 40. Olive trees and date palms stood side by side with greenhouses where they grew parsley, lettuce and arugula. They had had rabbits, chickens and 40 sheep, which Mohammed used to lead to the fields to graze every morning.

Mohammed Dahliz could remember his father planting the palm trees when he was a little boy, he said. He could remember his own young children before the war, he said, chasing the chickens around and laughing, gathering their eggs for breakfast.

The Israeli military has said that it struck residential areas because Hamas fighters were embedding themselves in civilian buildings, though a New York Times investigation found that Israel also weakened civilian protections to make it easier to bomb Gaza during the war.

When Israeli forces invaded Rafah in May and ordered everyone in eastern Rafah to leave, Islam Dahliz said, the vegetables were just starting to sprout. The families who had been sheltering at the Dahlizes’ dispersed. The Dahlizes packed up some clothes, tarps and other materials for a makeshift tent, and picked a spot for it as close as they could find to home.

But they didn’t lay eyes on it for months, despite being just a few miles away.

Their cousins managed to sneak into the neighborhood from time to time, bringing back updates. Their home was still standing, they reported. Then they said it was standing, but some of its doors and windows had been blown out.

In the fall, the Dahlizes scoured satellite images circulating on social media: still intact. Then they checked again on Dec. 8, Islam Dahliz recalled. All they saw where the house had been was a gray shadow.

Now their palm and olive trees were knocked down, trunks scattered on the ground. Israeli tanks had left tracks all over their land. Little stood straight on their property other than a few concrete pillars with rebar sticking out of them.

“I feel lost, utterly lost,” said Mohammed Dahliz. Then, becoming angry, he said: “This was an agricultural area, a place of peace. It posed no threat to anyone, no danger to soldiers. We had no ties to politics, no reason to be caught in this violence.”

Islam Dahliz’s daughter Juan, 9, screamed when he showed her pictures of the destruction, he said. “Remember, Daddy, when you threw me a birthday party in the big hall?” she asked, sobbing.

On Monday morning, the brothers and their father drove to their neighborhood a second time, down a road jammed with other families, every vehicle overflowing with passengers and bundled belongings. They were all there to salvage whatever they could. All over Rafah, people filled tattered flour sacks and patched-up bags with scraps of metal they could perhaps sell or reuse and wood they could perhaps burn.

Mohammed Dahliz was just hoping to find some of his 14-year-old daughter Jana’s old toys, the kind he had brought her on her birthday or every time she reached a milestone in school. She had begged him to look for them, he said.

“I just want to find a piece of her childhood,” he said. “I’ve been searching since morning, hoping to find anything that belonged to her.”

Digging through the grayness, Islam Dahliz stumbled on his old school certificates, a discovery that produced a smile. But otherwise, they hadn’t found much. Firewood, a few pillows, an empty tank they hoped to repair.

He was clinging to plans, however fragile.

If — if — the two sides negotiated a permanent end to the war, as they are supposed to attempt during the cease-fire’s initial phase, the Dahlizes would hire a bulldozer to clear the rubble, first from the farm, then from the house. They would install some pipes, build a basic toilet and set up a water tank, he said.

“It won’t end the suffering,” he said, “but at least it’ll be closer to the home where we created so many memories.”

But for now, dusk was falling. They would have to return to their tent. What remained of the Dahlizes’ old lives barely filled the back of one small car.

One year has passed since Moscow accused Kyiv of shooting down a Russian military plane carrying dozens of Ukrainian prisoners of war. Ukraine opened an investigation, but has yet to release its findings, leaving questions about who was killed, and why.

The crash of the IL-76 transport plane in the Belgorod region of Russia, near the border with Ukraine, set off a series of recriminations at a delicate moment for Kyiv, as it lobbied for Western aid to build up its depleted weapons stocks.

Russian officials called it a “terrorist” act and convened an emergency meeting of the U.N. Security Council. Ukrainian officials did not admit or deny shooting down the aircraft, and said they could not confirm that Ukrainian prisoners were on board. American officials later assessed that Ukrainian forces had used a U.S.-made Patriot missile to shoot it down, thinking the plane carried Russian missiles and munitions.

“We have many questions about the situation,” Sofia Sobolyeva, who believes her father was on the plane, said in a recent interview.

With the families of the prisoners still awaiting answers, here’s what we know about the crash one year on.

Conflicting Accounts

Russia’s Defense Ministry said on Jan. 24, 2024 that one of its military transports had been shot down while en route to Belgorod for a prisoner swap. It said the plane was carrying 65 Ukrainian prisoners of war and that no one survived the crash.

Initially, Ukraine asserted its right to target Russian military transport planes in the border area, which had been a staging ground for the 2022 invasion and was used to mount attacks after that. At the time of the crash, deadly Russian missile strikes had been pounding Kharkiv, just across the border in Ukraine, and Kyiv stressed the need to hinder those attacks.

Soon, though, Ukraine’s military intelligence agency hinted at the possibility of a tragic mistake, not directly acknowledging Ukraine had downed the plane but offering explanations for how it might have happened. One Ukrainian official said the IL-76, often used to carry freight, had previously been used to deliver ammunition and missiles, suggesting that it was a legitimate target.

The agency acknowledged a prisoner swap had been planned for Jan. 24 — but said Russia had not warned Ukraine that prisoners were being flown to Belgorod’s airport, as was the case in previous exchanges. Russian officials disputed that account, saying Ukraine’s military had been notified.

The diverging claims illustrated the persistent lack of clarity that has become a defining feature of the war. Both sides have pushed their preferred narratives over nearly three years of fighting, and been reluctant to disclose or acknowledge setbacks.

Calls for investigation

President Volodymyr Zelensky of Ukraine called for his country’s intelligence agency to determine what had happened and for an international investigation into the crash. He accused Russia of “playing with the lives of Ukrainian prisoners, the feelings of their loved ones and the emotions of our society.”

Ukraine’s domestic intelligence agency opened an investigation into the incident.

Russian officials said the plane had crashed in a snowy field near a settlement in the Korochansky district. No independent groups were able to visit the crash site; Ukraine requested that the Red Cross and United Nations be granted access.

Satellite images and unverified Russian video captured what appeared to be the crash site and debris of a plane in the area Russia described, but it was not possible to identify passengers from the imagery.

Ukrainian officials asked for patience from citizens while they investigated Moscow’s claims.

Identifying the victims

Prisoner exchanges have occurred regularly throughout the war, even amid bitter fighting. But the Ukrainian authorities typically do not disclose, even to families, the names of those set to be released before exchanges.

The Russian authorities did not identify the victims of the crash when they announced it. But the names of 65 prisoners of war allegedly on board were shared on social media by the editor in chief of RT, the Russian state media broadcaster,

A few days later, the Ukrainian government agency that oversees prisoners of war confirmed that the names on the list matched those who were set to be exchanged on the day of the crash. But the agency said it did not have evidence to confirm that those prisoners were aboard the plane, or even that they were dead.

That was around the time, Sofia Sobolyeva said, that her family received a phone call from the military requesting a meeting. Ms. Sobolyeva’s father had been in Russian captivity since March 2022 — shortly after the start of the war — and his name was on the list.

“They gathered us and explained the situation but did not answer any questions,” she said. The authorities pledged to investigate “quickly,” she said, and asked relatives to submit DNA.

A break in the case

The case dropped from the headlines for months. An exchange of remains in early November was the first sign of a potential break.

The International Committee of the Red Cross confirmed it was present for a Nov. 8 transfer of remains. Russia said the transfer included the remains of 65 killed in the downing of the IL-76, but that claim could not be independently verified.

“I.C.R.C. did not take part in the identification process,” the agency said this week in response to questions, adding that it stood ready to assist the authorities with technical support.

Ms. Sobolyeva said that the families of the 65, who had formed a WhatsApp group, learned about the transfer and were told by the Ukrainian authorities that “time was needed for DNA expertise.”

Outstanding questions

Ukraine’s general prosecutor and security service did not respond to questions from The New York Times about the status of the investigation or whether any remains had been identified.

But there appears to be little dispute over who downed the plane.

Russia’s defense ministry had accused Ukrainian forces of launching missiles from the nearby Kharkiv region of Ukraine that struck the aircraft. American officials briefed on the incident later said that Ukraine used a Patriot air defense missile to down the plane.

While Ukraine has not formally accepted responsibility, Ms. Sobolyeva said that’s beside the point now.

“Logically, we understand that Ukraine shot it down,” she said, even though “officially we have nothing.

What she’s less sure about is whether the families will ever have answers to their other questions — like how it happened, and why.

She described her father as a kind man with “golden hands” — able to fix anything that broke — who loved gardening.

“There was a lot of stress and tears, but I still can’t understand what happened,” Ms. Sobolyeva said one recent evening.

“Now,” she added, “I just wear his black hat, so I feel warmer — both mentally and physically.”

Some plays are bouillabaisses, crammed with everything a playwright can put in the pot. Even if it means splattering the stovetop, these stories are going to boil.

Other plays are perfectly calibrated consommés. Refined and subtle, they shine at a simmer.

The Broadway transfer of Sanaz Toossi’s “English,” which opened on Thursday at the Todd Haimes Theater, is the consummate consommé. Even more so than when it debuted Off Broadway in 2022, and won the Pulitzer Prize in Drama in 2023, it strikes me as a work of uncommon discipline despite its big and occasionally easy laughs. Without ever releasing a tight grip on its theme — or perhaps because of that tight grip — it suggests a world of small tragedies and smaller compensations.

The theme is the conflict between mother tongues and other tongues. Over six weeks in 2008, as four Farsi-speaking adults at a small school in Iran prepare for the Test of English as a Foreign Language, or Toefl, they and their teacher struggle with the often humorous mechanics of initial w’s and definite articles. (One does not say “the Canada,” for instance.) But in reaching for opportunities to remake themselves in a new language, they also bump up against the limits created by the one they already know.

That isn’t a problem for Goli (Ava Lalezarzadeh). Just 18, she has no goal in acquiring English except to enjoy the easy practicality and cultural currency of the international lingua franca. “English does not want to be poetry like Farsi,” she says approvingly. “English does not try to sink.” For Show and Tell, she plays a CD of Ricky Martin’s “She Bangs” on her boombox.

The other students find the burden of imperfect English heavy. Elham (Tala Ashe) has the hardest time achieving proficiency, despite needing it most. (Her acceptance to a medical school in Australia is conditioned on achieving a good Toefl score.) Roya (Pooya Mohseni) wants to master the language so she can live with her neglectful son in Canada. (He will not allow his Canadian-born daughter to be influenced by Roya’s thick accent.) And though Omid (Hadi Tabbal) is already glib in English and sounds fully American to everyone else, he knows the truth in his own inner ear.

In 21 scenes plus a prologue, we watch them progress and stall, surge and relapse under the warm but firm tutelage of Marjan (Marjan Neshat). Having returned to Iran after nine years in England, she has her own push-pull relationship to the language; she watches Julia Roberts rom-coms to sustain her fluency and perhaps something more. In English, she tells us, she eventually became a different person, a person she liked; what has happened to that person now that she’s back home?

The politics of an insular, religious dictatorship are never more than glancingly suggested. (Various characters mention the difficulty of obtaining visas.) Yet you are aware at all times of the way Toossi has built her finger-trap of a plot on the conflict between the unsustainable repression and fearful liberation that so many subjects of bad government experience. The question for the students, and for Marjan as well, is: Which language represents which quality? If English is freedom, why does it feel so elusive? If Farsi is repression, why does it feel like a beloved mother tongue?

In hewing narrowly to these questions, the production, directed with exceptional sensitivity by Knud Adams, creates more drama than its ingredients and its lifeboat of neatly differentiated characters would seem to permit. There is no big crisis, just a series of smallish, slightly muffled ones. Does someone fall in love? Maybe. Does someone learn a painful truth about someone else? Probably. Is anyone very different at the end than they were at the beginning? Hard to be sure.

But most six-week slices of life are like that. To overload the story with trauma would be to endanger its naturalism in a wave of forced feeling — something Toossi seems constitutionally averse to. As it is, the play is so hermetic, so fixated on seeing the world through its one lens, that it has trouble ginning up an ending, instead circling its territory several times before settling down like a dog for the night.

No matter. Adams’s staging and his work with the faultless actors pull off the trick of making what “English” doesn’t say out loud so moving. Also moving: the rotating box of a set by Marsha Ginsberg, which offers changing perspectives on action that might otherwise dig a rut. Also beautifully considered are the interstitial rearrangements of the classroom furniture; the shifting of angles of the sun and thus its shadows (lighting by Reza Behjat); the subtle changes of clothing (costumes by Enver Chakartash); and the unexpectedly nonliteral music, mostly solo piano works with a distinctive French accent. (Sound by Sinan Refik Zafar.)

These effects are bigger for Broadway yet paradoxically also more delicate than when “English,” a co-production of the Atlantic and Roundabout theater companies, appeared on the Atlantic’s stage, with the same cast, in Chelsea. Though a few laughs have been goosed — “She Bangs” is obviously a funnier Show and Tell than was Shakira’s “Whenever, Wherever” — the play somehow feels graver now. Elham in particular is a tougher character, in Ashe’s uncompromising performance: easier to understand and harder to like. The fury she feels at her own limitations, spilling everywhere, now fully earns Roya’s withering take on her: “In English you won’t have redeeming qualities.”

Whether we are to make more of that comment than Roya intends is another of the play’s open questions. Is English a bully? Goli loves it because it can do so much. Elham dislikes it for the same reason. Perhaps generalizing from her son’s insistence, Roya feels it as a betrayal. (Her analysis of his voice mail messages is devastating.) For Omid, and perhaps for Marjan, it is a lost lover, or a love they could never fully embrace.

Blame it on overamplified American culture: English is the boombox of languages. But also note that when handled with great care, it tells as quiet a story as can be heard.

English
Through March 2 at the Todd Haimes Theater, Manhattan; roundabouttheatre.org. Running time: 1 hour 40 minutes.

The chief prosecutor of the International Criminal Court said on Thursday he had requested arrest warrants for the supreme leader of Afghanistan’s Taliban government and the country’s chief justice for their “unprecedented” persecution of Afghan women and girls.

The prosecutor, Karim Khan, said in a statement that the Taliban’s leader, Sheikh Haibatullah Akhundzada, and the head of Afghanistan’s supreme court, Abdul Hakim Haqqani, had committed a crime against humanity: “persecution on gender grounds.”

“Afghan women and girls, as well as the LGBTQI+ community, are facing an unprecedented, unconscionable and ongoing persecution by the Taliban,” the statement said.

Since U.S. troops pulled out of Afghanistan in 2021 and the Taliban regained power, the fundamentalist rulers have issued ever-tightening codes of vice and virtue laws that have driven women entirely from public life and from many private activities.

The edicts, presented as Muslim religious rules, have excluded women from jobs and almost all public areas. In 2023, the Taliban shut all beauty salons — one of the few public places left in the country where women could congregate outside the home. Afghanistan also barred girls from high school and women from university education — the only country to do so.

A United Nations rapporteur has described the extreme regime as “gender apartheid.”

Many women have fled the country, and others are seeking ways to escape from their confined way of life.

The prosecutor’s move is the first legal filing by the court, which is based in The Hague, to include the plight of L.G.B.T.Q.I.+ groups in a discrimination complaint. But it is not the first international legal attempt to pressure the Taliban to loosen their grip on Afghan women’s lives.

Last year, Australia, Canada, Germany and the Netherlands took the Taliban to the International Court of Justice, the United Nations’ highest court, and denounced them for “gross and systematic” violations of the U.N. convention, ratified by Afghanistan, that forbids all forms of discrimination against women.

Other countries have since joined this case, which is winding its way through the World Court and is expected to lead to public hearings and, possibly, court orders.

Although the Taliban have ignored international pressure to change their extremist treatment of women, activists hope that the group would make concessions as the country’s leaders seek to normalize diplomatic relations or obtain international aid. They say that international court cases are important to keep the plight of Afghan women on the agenda.

“Afghan women and girls finally have a chance to secure justice for the cruelty they have endured since the Taliban’s takeover,” said Binaifer Nowrojee, president of the Open Society Foundations, independent groups working for justice, democratic governance and human rights. “Without the I.C.C. and other international tribunals, Afghan women and girls would have nowhere else to turn to hold the Taliban accountable.”

Mr. Khan’s request for warrants is part of his broader investigation into alleged Taliban crimes. In his brief, the prosecutor said that his office would seek further warrants for other senior Taliban officials for broad attacks against the Afghan civilian population.

A panel of three judges issues I.C.C. arrest warrants, a process that can take months. Lawyers familiar with the court said these warrants might emerge faster because the edicts discriminating against Afghan women in violation of international law have been openly issued by the Taliban rulers.

The leader of the Taliban has not been known to leave the country, so if the warrants are issued, chances are slim they could be executed.

Mr. Khan said in his statement that opposition to the Taliban is “brutally repressed” through “crimes including murder, imprisonment, torture, rape and other forms of sexual violence, enforced disappearance and other inhumane acts.” He compared the oppression and violence to the Taliban’s earlier crimes, when they were previously in power.

The ultraconservative militants rose to prominence in the aftermath of the withdrawal of invading Soviet troops, capturing the capital, Kabul, in 1996. An alliance of international forces led by the United States invaded in 2001, tracking Osama bin Laden, the leader of Al Qaeda. The bombing campaign led to the Taliban’s retreat.

The I.C.C.’s investigations into crimes committed in Afghanistan first began in 2007 and had long lingered on the back burner. They have included accusations of misconduct by U.S. troops, including extrajudicial killings and torture.

But Mr. Khan surprised many when, soon after taking office in 2021, he announced that he would “de-prioritize” the investigation into U.S. personnel. He said his decision was based on his need to use limited resources efficiently. That essentially shelved the U.S. component of the inquiry.

The morning the cease-fire in Gaza went into effect, masked members of Hamas’s military wing drove through the streets of Gaza in clean, white pickups, carrying Hamas flags and automatic rifles.

The militants were also carrying an unambiguous message: However weakened, Hamas survived Israel’s 15-month bombing campaign in Gaza and remains the most powerful Palestinian party in the territory.

Since the cease-fire started on Sunday, Hamas has been working overtime in an attempt to show it still controls Gaza, even after Israel killed thousands of its members and demolished its tunnels and weapons factories in retaliation for the Oct. 7, 2023, cross-border attack that killed an estimated 1,200 people.

Throughout the war, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu of Israel has vowed to eliminate Hamas, but he never offered a plan for a realistic alternative that could take control of Gaza, leaving behind a vacuum that the armed group filled.

Even for many residents of Gaza, however, the swift re-emergence of the fighters, some in official uniforms, was a surprise.

“They came out of hiding in a snap of a finger,” said Mohammed, 24, who requested his last name be withheld to avoid possible retribution from Hamas. “We had no idea where these people were during the war.”

Later on the first day of the cease-fire, dozens of Hamas militants turned up at Saraya Square in Gaza City to hand over three hostages to the Red Cross for release to Israel, the first of 33 to be freed as part of the deal. The appearance of the militants didn’t suggest they were on their last legs: They appeared to be wearing clean uniforms, in good shape and driving decent cars.

It is not clear just how many fighters, police officers, bureaucrats and political leaders survived the war or just where the militants had been hiding. But by showcasing the handover in such a public way, Hamas made clear that it was still standing in a part of Gaza that had seen some of the most devastating bombing attacks of the war.

“We’re talking about an area that was essentially plowed by the Israelis,” said Mkhaimar Abusada, a professor of political science from Gaza City who is now a visiting scholar at Northwestern University.

Israeli officials have said that they stand behind their goal of dismantling Hamas’s military wing and government, suggesting that they could resume the war after the remaining 30 hostages, of roughly 100 still held in Gaza, are freed over the coming weeks.

Despite its show of force, Hamas likely hopes to relieve itself of the daily burdens of administration and reconstruction of Gaza, but it wants any future arrangement for the territory to leave it as the top security power, and therefore, the main decision maker, Ghaith al-Omari, an expert on Palestinian affairs said. Hamas probably has to make some concessions to enable enough aid to enter Gaza for reconstruction.

Since the cease-fire, Hamas’s government has attempted to impose some sense of security, sending police forces to the streets, directing traffic, protecting aid trucks and offering a degree of law and order, residents say.

On Monday in Gaza City, a senior official in the Hamas-run Interior Ministry identified as Gen. Mahmoud Abu Watfa toured the city center in plain clothes as Gazan journalists took pictures of armed internal security forces participating in a procession.

“The picture is clear,” General Abu Watfa told a reporter. “The ones controlling security, protecting citizens and safeguarding the internal front are the forces of the Interior Ministry.”

Challenges are still evident. An official in Hamas’s internal security service, who spoke on condition of anonymity to discuss operational matters, noted that many security workers in Gaza City were using paper records instead of computers, and some were reporting to work at a bombed-out headquarters by foot because Israel had destroyed almost every police car in the city.

The bomb disposal unit in Gaza City, the official said, was struggling to defuse unexploded bombs.

“Hamas is much weaker than it was before Oct. 7,” said Michael Milshtein, a former military intelligence analyst specializing in Palestinian affairs. “But it’s totally clear that it can impose its sovereignty everywhere in Gaza.”

Municipalities in Gaza that coordinate closely with Hamas’s government have sent workers to clear rubble, remove piles of trash and survey damage to infrastructure. In Rafah, the municipal council convened a meeting in a tent outfitted with an official city flag, a desk and chairs, according to a post it shared on social media.

In an interview, Mousa Abu Marzouk, a senior Hamas official, crowed that Israel had failed to destroy Hamas. “They tried to uproot these people and they didn’t succeed,” he said. “They were steadfast on the ground for 470 days.”

Hamas, analysts said, was trying to make clear in its recent moves that it must have an influential role in discussions about the “day after,” referring to the future administration of Gaza.

“Their message to everyone is, ‘You can’t exclude us from the day after,’” said Mr. al-Omari, the Palestinian affairs expert.

Hamas leaders have indeed expressed readiness to give up civilian governance in Gaza, but without dismantling its military wing — a dynamic that would be similar to Hezbollah’s role in Lebanon before its last conflict with Israel.

The United States has said that a “revitalized” Palestinian Authority, which now has limited autonomy in governing the Israeli-occupied West Bank, should take over Gaza, but Mr. Netanyahu has rejected the idea. The authority governed Gaza until 2007, when Hamas forcibly took over in a coup after winning a majority in parliamentary elections.

On Sunday, Gideon Saar, the Israeli foreign minister, told reporters that Hamas’s rule was dangerous for Israel’s security and emphasized that Israel had not agreed to a permanent cease-fire deal that leaves Hamas in control of Gaza.

While some analysts say Israel could eventually remove Hamas from power, others say it would struggle to resume the war in the face of international pressure. And even if it does, those analysts say, Israeli forces would face immense challenges in uprooting Hamas from Gaza without carrying out a direct occupation.

In Gaza, supporters of Hamas said they felt reassured by its show of force this week. But many people without allegiances to the group worried that if it remained in power, they would be subject to its heavy-handed rule and that there would be another war, sooner or later.

“It may take Hamas time to reach a point where it will provoke Israel into another major war,” said Alaa, 28, who has been sheltering in Deir al-Balah, in central Gaza, and whose last name is being withheld to avoid reprisals.

“As long as it’s in power, it’s only a matter of time,” he added. “It’s hard to reach any other conclusion other than there’s no future here.”

A founder of a French cryptocurrency company and his wife were freed in France this week after being brutally kidnapped and held for ransom, the authorities announced on Thursday.

David Balland, a founder of Ledger, a company that sells physical devices to store crypto assets, was abducted alongside his wife early on Tuesday from their home in Vierzon, a city in central France, according to the Paris prosecutor. The couple were whisked away by car, then separated and detained at different locations, the prosecutor said.

The kidnapping set off a broad investigation involving more than 230 officers who sought to locate the couple. In the end, they freed them without firing a shot, the authorities said at a news conference in Paris on Thursday evening.

“This was an extremely complex case,” said Gen. Ghislain Réty, the head of an elite unit specializing in hostage rescue that freed the couple.

The Paris prosecutor, Laure Beccuau, said that the kidnappers had contacted another founder at Ledger and demanded that a large ransom be paid using cryptocurrency. She said investigators were still establishing how much in total they had requested.

The company alerted the gendarmerie, the police force in smaller towns and rural and suburban areas of France. French news outlets that caught wind of the investigation were urged to refrain from publishing any details to avoid jeopardizing the couple’s safety.

The gendarmes rapidly located Mr. Balland in Châteauroux, about 30 miles southwest of his home, and freed him on Wednesday. He was hospitalized because of a “mutilation” inflicted by the kidnappers to his hand, Ms. Beccuau said.

An official with knowledge of the investigation, who was not authorized to speak publicly about an ongoing case, said that the kidnappers had sent an image of Mr. Balland’s mutilated finger to pressure the company.

Part of the ransom was paid during negotiations with the kidnappers, Ms. Beccuau said. “Almost all of that cryptocurrency was tracked, frozen and seized,” she said.

On Thursday, by using surveillance of some suspects, analyzing phone records and questioning several people who had already been arrested, investigators located Mr. Balland’s wife in Étampes, about 80 miles north of Vierzon.

Officers found her tied up in a car but otherwise unharmed, Ms. Beccuau said.

In all, nine men and one woman, ages 20 to 40, have been taken into custody for questioning about the kidnapping, Ms. Beccuau said. She did not identify them or provide details about their involvement, saying only that they were from different cities and had criminal records. They were not known to the police as being part of organized crime, she said.

Pascal Gauthier, the chief executiveof Ledger, wrote on social media Thursday that he was “deeply relieved.”

“Our top priority was always to allow law enforcement to do their jobs and protect the integrity of the investigation,” Mr. Gautier said. “We respected law enforcement requests around safeguarding critical details of the ongoing investigation and appreciated members of the press who did the same.”

Ledger, a prominent start-up valued at more than $1 billion, was founded in 2014 and has sold over six million units since then, according to the company’s website. It has over 700 employees in Europe, Asia and the United States, the company says.

Éric Larchevêque, another founder at the company and a known TV personality who has appeared on the jury of France’s equivalent of “Shark Tank,” expressed “immense relief and profound joy” on social media after the release of Mr. Balland and his wife.

Prosecutors are opening an investigation into charges of kidnapping and holding someone against his or her will as part of an organized gang in order to obtain something in exchange; acts of torture; and armed extortion. Those crimes can carry life prison sentences, Ms. Beccuau said.

The case echoed a similar one reported by French news media this month in which a man and his family were held hostage by a group that wanted to blackmail his son, a cryptocurrency influencer living in Dubai. They were released, but no arrests have been made in that case, according to news reports.

At this stage, investigators have not established any ties between the two cases, Ms. Beccuau said.