The Kibbutz Spectrum

At the celebration of Simchat Torah, the harvest festival, Sukkot, concluded in its usual fashion this week. Akin to the US, Israel's climate changes around this time of year, and certain fruits and vegetables are ready for picking. Sukkot represents the appreciation of this year's crop and Judaism's agricultural roots. Before exile, the Jewish people were mainly farmers. Although many in the Diaspora, including myself before this summer, classify Israel and the region's as arid, uncultivable desert, the country's 1948 founders sought to work the soil, planting forests and rows of produce fields. Certain members of the Zionist movement in the 20th century believed that Jews needed to recreate their worldly reputation. From the Middle Ages to that point, gentiles believed Jews belonged in law, banking, and business, explaining where the modern stereotype derives. Led by A.D. Gordon, labor Zionists founded collectivist farming villages (kibbutzim) throughout present-day Israel, then-Palestine. Gordon imagined a "new Jew", a muscular individual known for great cultivation of the land. The kibbutz movement flourished from 1900 through much of the century. Kibbutzim were seen as a cornerstone of Israeli society until 1978. When elected prime minster, Menachem Begem denounced the kibbutz movement, equating with a plague on Israel's people. The conservative government ceased subsidation of the kibbutzim after that point, and the struggle to modernize was one faced by each kibbutz during the 1980's all the way to the present day. As I observed in my travels this summer, each kibbutz responds to the calls of modernization differently.  

Two weeks in the program, we visited Kibbutz Ein Hashofet, my kvutzah's (age group's) namesake. Ein Hashofet symbolizes the classic kibbutz. Founded in 1937, the kibbutz endured the movement's heights and its fall in 1978. Still, it survived into 2013 with a population of about 800. The other kibbutzim I visited stem from a newer generation, founded with an everpresent connection to the modern era. Ein Hashofet possessed all the features of the original kibbutzim: a boarding school, a children's house (where the children live-children were raised by the kibbutz, not their parents), and the large dining hall. No one withheld personal property on Ein Hashofet before Begin-not even appliances, food, toys to name a few. On the kibbutz spectrum, Ein Hashofet lies in the middle. About half the kibbutz now practices a private lifestyle, and the other maintains the socialist one. Their "middle model" allows for choice. For instance, certain individuals work off the kibbutz, pay for their food, and own individual cars. Interestingly, our namesake kibbutz inspired and disappointed me. The facility retains the communal spirit; people act so warmly to their fellow kibbutzniks. The spark of communalism remains on Ein Hashofet, whether one views it full bulletin board of community events or paintings that represent the communal culture on several buildings.  On the contrary, their attitude towards guests was distasteful by the majority of the community. We ate in the filled dining room for three or four meals, but the only people who conversed with us were kvutzah friends who happened to be on the kibbutz. The split in lifestyle choice divides members as well, creating a hostile environment when kibbutz politics come into discussion. Ein Hashofet additionally lacks the youthful spirit of the other kibbutzim. The majority blame this inequity in age on the forced boarding in children's houses; several children of the olden kibbutzim resent their elders for disrupting the traditional family dynamic. While maintaining its classical charm and standing as a testament to the initial wave of kibbutzim, I observed that Ein Hashofet struggles with modernization more than the other kibbutzim I visited.

After a tour of Israel's northern borders (I promise to discuss this ordeal in a few weeks), we traveled to Kibbutz Pelech. With its oldest child being only 8 years, Pelech more than compensates for Ein Hashofet's deficiency in youthfulness. Kibbutz Pelech was founded in the 1980's, and therefore, it always realized the impact of modernism in its development. Pelech stands atop a hill (with a gorgeous sunset at dusk) that allows one to view the entirety of Israel's North. Most members are 30 years old, trying a socialist lifestyle in their post-army years. Of the three, Pelech is the most privatized. Their communal dining room no longer functions for any event beside a special occasion. Instead of communal pool of money and resources, each household/collective (kvutzah) works together to contribute to the kibbutz. The parents raise their children, and they regard a number of items as private property. Admirably, the kvutzah structure works well for Pelech. People seem happier, their attitude being less biting about kibbutz politics than those at Ein Hashofet. Much of the kibbutz is still growing, which was inspiring to see when the majority appear in decline. Kibbutz Pelech's 1980s roots wonderfully contribute to its currentness; I call it, "the practical kibbutz". The communal atmosphere exists, yet the aggressive push toward utopianism does not. Due to its remoteness and population of 30 families, I do not picture myself there. For the rural folks who want to experience semi-socialism at its best, Pelech is a wonderful place to go. 

Toward the end of our trip, we finally made it to the desert. Very few people live in the Negev (the name for Israel's southern desert). Along the border with Jordan, we arrived at a third kibbutz, dotted with some of the only foliage (beautiful palm trees) in the surrounding area. Kibbutz Ketura looked and felt like an oasis. Ketura represents the perfect old model adapted to the new age. More than Pelech or even Ein Hashofet, Ketura has retained many of its socialist roots. The members continue to pool resources and capital for the community; they share all income for the kibbutz. Arriving on Shabbat, we saw communalism on Ketura at its finest. The spirit of the communal dining hall at Ketura energized even us, exhausted travelers from a 4am desert hike. Ein Hashofet possessed similar spirit, but the folks here welcomed us with open arms. From a conversation with any strange, I felt sensational pride in the Ketura community and their kibbutz's model. These conversations differed from hearing about Ein Hashofet's inevitable privatization. How does Ketura thrive after the kibbutz movement's near-bankruptcy? The members of this kibbutz recognize their role as socialist in the context of a capitalist economy. While the community in the desert lives communally, they realize that the rest of the world still functions for profit. Ketura's members have constructed a kibbutz economy that fits in the context of the 21st century. Ketura's income comes from hundreds of date palms, the construction of solar panels, and the raising of algae used in many Israeli and American cosmetics. All Ketura industry depends on its chief resource, the blazing, desert sun. The majority consider living in the desert a curse, but these kibbutzniks call it a blessing. In addition, "Ketureans" think of themselves as some of the most democratic people in the world.  The community decides on everything together, its government consisting of an executive and specialized committees and a general assembly. The kibbutz, not any one individual, makes the decision. Ketura is also uniquely pluralistic. It hosts Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, and secular Jews from all over the world and Israel. In my opinion, Ketura is the ideal kibbutz, but I still find certain aspects of it troubling. Being in the desert, Ketura uses a lot of energy to obtain water. Its green lawns and magnificent palms represents a waste unimaginable in other parts of the Negev. The kibbutz also hires immigrant labor to harvest the date palms, defying A.D. Gordon's belief about the "new Jew" not to mention encourage the social subordination of these new-comers to Israel (not Jews who possess "the right to return"-the large number of these immigrants are young southeast Asian men looking for work in Israel to return to their family). Overall, it troubled me how such a powerful socialist institution endorsed the broader capitalist world. Kibbutz Ketura was a magnificent place in many aspects of the word magnificent, but this oasis in the desert possesses its own problems as well.     

The lesson from this trip? No kibbutz is exactly the same. Each adapts to modernization in its own way. For some, the lifestyle on Ein Hashofet suits them. Others enjoy the remote bliss on Pelech. For those who can endure the desert sun, Ketura could be a future paradise. The kibbutz lifestyle attracts certain individual. While I do not picture myself living such a rural lifestyle in the near future, my experiences on all three of these kibbutzim were wonderful. I adored learning first hand about these modern practices of socialism and the realities they grapple with, and I recommend that any visitor to Israel explore the kibbutz spectrum.