The Kibbutz
We started our five-day journey on Friday morning from Tel Aviv. We took a train and a bus to make our way south through the country. It is not long before the lush trees and dense civilization make way for the sprawling desert. As far as the eye can see it is nothing but orange rock and sand. Soon we would grasp that this geographic style is a common theme in this part of the world. After deboarding the bus on the side of this desert highway, miles from the nearest CafeCafe (like a Starbucks) or theater showing of the ubiquitous Don't Mess with the Zohan, we entered the gate of Kibbutz Yotvata.
The Kibbutzim began to sprout up in this region decades before Israel's War of Independence in 1948. Generally started by adventurous European Jews, the Kibbutzim used the socialist theories of community living and applied them to the agricultural development needed for the large unpopulated areas of the country.
Growing up in Berkeley, the idea of picking up and moving away from your stuffy job in the States and going to work on a Kibbutz was kind of like how some people think of moving to Los Angeles to become an actor or writing the great American novel. For us socialist dreamers, the Kibbutz is the utopia that represents all that we wish we could do with our lives: work for our own food without relying on corporations to package and provide it for us, live exempt from the evils of our greenback slave drivers, and get to wear overalls. The knowledge that somewhere out there in the faraway desert there exists a community that works together and supports each other, gives us lefties a glimmer of hope that not all socialism ends up like Animal Farm.
Well, I suppose utopia is a bit strong, but after two days as guests in the community we were pretty impressed with the way things are in Yotvata. Once inside its borders, it is easy to forget the harshness of the terrain outside. 400 people live within its pleasant confines, enjoying a swimming pool, plenty of green lawns, a spacious dining hall and coffee parlor, and even a disco/gymnasium. Lucky for us, our first night coincided with an outdoor concert put on by members of the community with men, women, and children of all ages performed songs and poems under a full desert moon. I had been expecting to stay in a bunk, maybe next to a chicken coop or something along those lines, but our guest apartment had 2 bedrooms, a TV, a kitchen, and a refrigerator fully stocked with delicious chocolate milk. This was starting to not feel like the kind of socialism I had heard about. In fact, after hooking up with a big company that distributes its product, Yotvata has become the largest dairy in the entire country and is doing quite well.
There are some aspects of the system that I kind of thought were "cheating" as far as the original kibbutz model goes, but I suppose my ideals aren't exactly realistic in today's world. Everything seems to be a fair balance between practicality and some aspect of this great community concept. Almost all of the food we ate was brought in from outside (except the milk, of course), but it is all prepared and served by a Kibbutz member, a regular guy or gal who could very well be your neighbor. They hire outside help for big projects like construction, but someone from within does most every other job or helps out in some way or another with the production or just the general upkeep of the town: teachers, farmers, and even artists. Which brings me to the most radical piece of the organization: everyone gets paid the same amount. There are no salaries, except for a regular allowance that each Kibbutz member receives. This means that no money changes hands within the community.
The entire length of our stay, a consistent topic of conversation amongst our clan was The Fallacy, The Catch. What hidden attribute would prove the reason that everyone didn't live in a Kibbutz? If it was as pleasant and successful as this one seemed to be why was this not a more widespread form of living? I think the end result is that people generally don't want to have their lives governed by someone else. People like to make their own decisions about their money and their property and it is this reason that many Kibbutzim in Israel have already privatized, meaning that there are differential salaries and less community organization. Although it seemed like the people at Yotvata, and I agree, believe that privatization defeats the whole purpose of the community experiment. My dad was wise to note that, unlike the American communes of the sixties (of which he may or may not have lived in, depending on how much memory is resurrected), this commune is not driven by sex, drugs, or God. Going clean and secular, the goal of the community is solely the success and happiness of its participants and nothing else.
As we all left feeling both mentally and physically healthy, it appears this strategy is working well.
Welcome to the Negev. Last stop for water: 1 hour ago.
Looming from across the Jordanian border, might as well be the San Gabriel Mountains.
Howard contemplates emigration.
Inside the lush confines of Kibbutz Yotvata
The Kibbutzim began to sprout up in this region decades before Israel's War of Independence in 1948. Generally started by adventurous European Jews, the Kibbutzim used the socialist theories of community living and applied them to the agricultural development needed for the large unpopulated areas of the country.
Growing up in Berkeley, the idea of picking up and moving away from your stuffy job in the States and going to work on a Kibbutz was kind of like how some people think of moving to Los Angeles to become an actor or writing the great American novel. For us socialist dreamers, the Kibbutz is the utopia that represents all that we wish we could do with our lives: work for our own food without relying on corporations to package and provide it for us, live exempt from the evils of our greenback slave drivers, and get to wear overalls. The knowledge that somewhere out there in the faraway desert there exists a community that works together and supports each other, gives us lefties a glimmer of hope that not all socialism ends up like Animal Farm.
Well, I suppose utopia is a bit strong, but after two days as guests in the community we were pretty impressed with the way things are in Yotvata. Once inside its borders, it is easy to forget the harshness of the terrain outside. 400 people live within its pleasant confines, enjoying a swimming pool, plenty of green lawns, a spacious dining hall and coffee parlor, and even a disco/gymnasium. Lucky for us, our first night coincided with an outdoor concert put on by members of the community with men, women, and children of all ages performed songs and poems under a full desert moon. I had been expecting to stay in a bunk, maybe next to a chicken coop or something along those lines, but our guest apartment had 2 bedrooms, a TV, a kitchen, and a refrigerator fully stocked with delicious chocolate milk. This was starting to not feel like the kind of socialism I had heard about. In fact, after hooking up with a big company that distributes its product, Yotvata has become the largest dairy in the entire country and is doing quite well.
There are some aspects of the system that I kind of thought were "cheating" as far as the original kibbutz model goes, but I suppose my ideals aren't exactly realistic in today's world. Everything seems to be a fair balance between practicality and some aspect of this great community concept. Almost all of the food we ate was brought in from outside (except the milk, of course), but it is all prepared and served by a Kibbutz member, a regular guy or gal who could very well be your neighbor. They hire outside help for big projects like construction, but someone from within does most every other job or helps out in some way or another with the production or just the general upkeep of the town: teachers, farmers, and even artists. Which brings me to the most radical piece of the organization: everyone gets paid the same amount. There are no salaries, except for a regular allowance that each Kibbutz member receives. This means that no money changes hands within the community.
The entire length of our stay, a consistent topic of conversation amongst our clan was The Fallacy, The Catch. What hidden attribute would prove the reason that everyone didn't live in a Kibbutz? If it was as pleasant and successful as this one seemed to be why was this not a more widespread form of living? I think the end result is that people generally don't want to have their lives governed by someone else. People like to make their own decisions about their money and their property and it is this reason that many Kibbutzim in Israel have already privatized, meaning that there are differential salaries and less community organization. Although it seemed like the people at Yotvata, and I agree, believe that privatization defeats the whole purpose of the community experiment. My dad was wise to note that, unlike the American communes of the sixties (of which he may or may not have lived in, depending on how much memory is resurrected), this commune is not driven by sex, drugs, or God. Going clean and secular, the goal of the community is solely the success and happiness of its participants and nothing else.
As we all left feeling both mentally and physically healthy, it appears this strategy is working well.
Kibbutz/Desert Pictures
Welcome to the Negev. Last stop for water: 1 hour ago.
Looming from across the Jordanian border, might as well be the San Gabriel Mountains.
Howard contemplates emigration.
Inside the lush confines of Kibbutz Yotvata
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