My first day on kibbutz revealed resort like conditions, including many public activities. I found tennis courts and a small football (soccer) field in the western part of the kibbutz. An Olympic sized pool was just to the south of the sports facilities, and there were beautiful mountains to the north, just waiting to be explored. Green grass and trees grew everywhere, offering a cool escape from the 105º weather. Healthy kids and dogs ran freely all over the place. There were endless array of bikes sitting, unlocked. Amongst the kibbutz, old bomb shelters sat, reminders of the past. They were now painted with peace signs and converted into a music studio, a library, and an entertainment lounge. Everything on the kibbutz was localized and you could reach any point within a five minute walk. It did seem sort of like a utopia.
Right after my arrival, I met the volunteer coordinator on Kibbutz Arava; his name was Roy. Roy gave me a warm welcome to the kibbutz and introduced me to the physical aspects of the community that I was to live on. As we walk around the kibbutz, Roy offered some insight of what kibbutz life was like.
Roy walked fast, pointing to things as we went. “O.K. Brian, we will start with the most important thing on kibbutz — food. Over here is the dining room where three meals a day are served.” We then walked behind the dining room. Roy continued, “If you ever miss a meal, or are craving food in the middle of the night, here is the solution to your hunger.” Roy unlatched a big metal door, revealing a massive walk-in refrigerator. We walked into the cooler, and were met by a pleasant rush of frigid air, relieving us from the heat of the afternoon. I noticed cartons of oranges, pomegranates, dates, pameloes, apples, and grapes. Next to the fruit were crates of lettuce, basketball court, and then Roy pointed to an old building. On the side of the building, I noticed signs everywhere with instructions: Blue / Black. Yellow / Orange / Tan. Work Clothes. Sheets. Beneath each sign was a shoot leading to a pile of smelly clothes. Roy gestured to the signs, “O.K., Brian, this is the laundry room. Remember to tag all of your clothes with your personal number, or they will become part of the communal clothes fund.” We walked to an adjacent building. Roy continued, “This is where you pick up your clean clothes, and you may take any additional work clothes which you might need.” I looked in and saw an assortment of work shirts, clothes, and boots. I was quite surprised and happy that there was a communal laundry service on the kibbutz.
The afternoon heat began to take its toll, and our tour slowed down. We sat under an olive tree and Roy began explaining what life on Kibbutz Arava was like. “Everyone on kibbutz has certain jobs and responsibilities. Your job, as a volunteer, will be minimal, but important. My job on kibbutz is the volunteer coordinator. That position takes up around 75% of my work time. The remaining 25% of the time, I work as a tour guide up in Jerusalem.”
I interrupted. “I thought that everyone who lives on the kibbutz, works here?”
Roy continued explaining the work situation. “Traditional kibbutz values suggest that all people who live on the kibbutz work on the kibbutz. But such is just not the case anymore. Here on Kibbutz Arava, many people work off of the kibbutz. In fact, 35% of the kibbutz income is earned from jobs off the kibbutz. These days, many members prefer working off the kibbutz. Working away from the kibbutz gives many members a change from the everyday life of agriculture work. It lets people go out and pursue what occupation they desire, and it lets them come back to this community after work. Many people might not have joined the kibbutz if we did not allow off-kibbutz work. The kibbutz allows people to work elsewhere if they can earn more money than they would if they were working on kibbutz. My tour guide job pays well, so the kibbutz encourages me to do it whenever possible.”
I became quite interested in the labor dynamic that Roy just revealed. Kibbutz Arava had modified its work ideology in order to satisfy the desires of its inhabitants and make more money at the same time. It seemed like a good and progressive idea. I asked Roy where people worked off of the kibbutz.
“Several of our members commute ten miles down the road to work in the Ardom. The Ardom is the kibbutz packing house. It is collectively owned and operated by all the kibbutzim in the area. The net produce of dates, melons, and tomatoes from all the kibbutzim are packaged in the Ardom and shipped all over Israel, or exported to other parts of the world. Some people work at the kibbutz owned gas station down the road. Other folks work at the kibbutz owned fish ponds in Eilot.15 And some people are employed with private jobs, working in engineering, computer programming, and health care.”
This seemed fascinating to me. It seemed like Kibbutz Arava acted as a suburbia of sorts for the people working off the kibbutz. These people would leave the kibbutz, commute thirty or so miles to work everyday, and then return to their home in the evening. These people enjoyed the best of two realities, a career of their choice, and a home in a functional community.
Roy continued. “When people start to leave the kibbutz to work elsewhere, it creates a shortage of labor for the endless tasks found on kibbutz. We call this shortage a labor hole. For every person that works off kibbutz, we need to import outside labor to fill the hole created by the absence of that person. The volunteers fill some of these labor holes, but we need to hire additional paid workers to ensure that all the jobs are completed around here. Importing labor onto the kibbutz is another traditional kibbutz no-no, however, in this day, it is financially the best way to go.”
The sun continued drifting across the sky. Roy looked at his watch. “Well, I'm running out of time. In addition to our normal responsibilities on kibbutz, each member has occasional additional jobs that need to be done. Tonight, I am working in the dining room, so I need to get going. You will be starting work on Sunday, but I am not sure where you are working yet. The work coordinator will post your schedule on the volunteer wall in the dining room. Oh yeah, to learn more about the internal dynamics of this kibbutz, I suggest you interview the Mazkir.”
The what?” I interrupted. Roy continued. “The Mazkir is the general secretary on kibbutz. She is the overseer of kibbutz life, and can explain to you a lot of the integral points of how our kibbutz works. I think she is in her office now, as she works later in the day. Well, I'm out of here. Good luck, Brian.” Roy then grabbed a bike that was laying against a tree and rode off.
I walked over to the central area of the kibbutz and found the office of the kibbutz secretary. As I opened the screen door, a furry, tan dog ran out of the room. A woman looked up from her computer. I quickly explained who I was and asked if she had some time to talk. The woman, whose name was Emily, happily began describing her job on kibbutz.
I am the Mazkir, or the kibbutz secretary, for those who don’t speak Hebrew. On kibbutz, we really try to avoid job hierarchy, but you could consider my job sort of like mayor of this community. My position is one of four elected positions on the kibbutz. The other elected positions are the economic secretary, treasurer, and the head of human resources.” The phone then rang. Emily answered, a brief discussion in Hebrew followed, and the conversation ended. Emily then continued our talk.
My responsibilities here on kibbutz include organizing any aspect of kibbutz life that falls outside of the production sector. I help to facilitate our bi-weekly kibbutz meetings where we discuss and vote on any kibbutz issue that arises. A recent controversial issue that we have talked about, dealt with what outside labor we wanted to hire.” I nodded my head. I remembered that Roy briefly spoke about hiring outside labor. I asked Emily to elaborate on the issues of hired labor on kibbutz.
Emily continued. “Many kibbutzim in the area have been hiring workers from Thailand, paying them minimally, and giving them quite lousy accommodations. As wages in Thailand are so minimal, the Thai workers here tolerate any working conditions provided. We were disputing whether or not we wanted to hire Thai workers based on our ideologies toward labor. If we did hire Thai workers we would be encouraging more workers to come over from Thailand. Even though hiring Thai workers would save us labor costs, we felt that we did not want to exploit them in that way. Instead, we decided to hire Israeli students during the summer, and other unemployed Israeli workers for the rest of the year. This was more expensive, but ideologically better for this community.”
Emily sipped water from a glass and continued. “At the kibbutz meetings, we also discuss short and long term goals of the kibbutz. One hot topic we are discussing right now is about industrialization. Our kibbutz has always felt strongly about remaining unindustrialized, however, recently, we have fallen in debt, and we feel that industrialization might help to balance our budget. Its a tough issue, and it will take time before we figure out exactly what we are going to do regarding industrialization.”
I am also in charge of housing issues. I help to figure out who lives where. Most members are rather permanently housed, but my jobs becomes challenging when a family has a baby and needs larger accommodations. We do have a housing shortage here, so sometimes this creates problems. I have other jobs, as well. Periodically, I communicate with our kibbutz movement’s main office and I discuss with them vital statistics such as our income, plans, and changes in how we run things. I also help to coordinate community events such as meetings, leisure parties, and sport tournaments.” The screen door to the office opened, and the tan furry dog came back inside, panting. Another women came in the office and started speaking Hebrew quite fast.
Emily looked at me and smiled. “I need to get going Brian, we are having a meeting now. I hope you learn a lot from your stay here. I would suggest that you go and speak with as many people as possible while you are here. Many of us have different ideas about this place, but we are all here for basically the same reasons. We want to live and raise our families in this type of community, and we want to work for ourselves.” With that last remark, Emily gathered some papers and walked out the door. The dog followed.
I left the office and looked to the West. The sun was setting and an orange tint colored the sky. My stomach growled, and I immediately headed for the dining room. As I ate dinner, I thought about my first couple days on kibbutz. I had learned a lot thus far and I had only been here for 48 hours. Tomorrow, I wanted to speak with the economic secretary. I was still rather clueless about how the financial functions on this kibbutz operated. Work would be starting soon, so I figured I should speak with as many people as possible before that point.
The next morning I walked to the center of the kibbutz. I found the office of the economic secretary and walked in. A man was sitting behind a desk and looked rather busy. There were heaps of papers and books all over the place. I explained to the man about my field study and asked if he had ten minutes for a quick interview.
The man responded with a strong Israeli accent. “My name is Ari. I am quite busy, but make yourself comfortable. I will talk to you for several minutes.” He immediately started speaking about the economic dynamics on Kibbutz Arava.
I am the economic secretary on this kibbutz. My position is an elected position. I am in charge of overseeing all the financial figures of the profit making entities on this kibbutz. Our largest money making business here is the Refet (dairy). Second, is the dates, followed by the melons, and other field agriculture. The turkey farm brings in additional incomes. We have some off kibbutz businesses that I overlook, as well. We just purchased a gas station, down the road, and we have a fishery in Eilot. We have just started operating these businesses, so I am not sure how successful they will be.”
There are other non-profit businesses on Kibbutz Arava, but I do not keep track of their finances. These non-profit businesses are set up to save our kibbutz money. Included in this are the laundry room, where we save money and time by doing everyone’s laundry. The laundry room can also fix clothes, make curtains, and sew most anything that someone could want. We have a garage that fixes most any broken car, truck, and tractor around here. On occasion, other kibbutzim pay us to fix their equipment, so the garage does earn some money from time to time. We also have a carpentry shop that can build or fix most anything on kibbutz.” I scribbled down notes as fast as I could. I then asked Ari about Kibbutz Arava’s annual budget, wondering if he could disclose such information.
Ari answered my question quite openly. “Annually, Kibbutz Arava has gross net income of NIS 24 million, or around eight million U.S. dollars. (NIS stands for New Israeli Shekel.)16 We need to reinvest NIS 18 or 19 a year for new equipment and supplies to keep our businesses running. Any money left over, around 6 million shekels or so, is allocated toward non-business aspects of the kibbutz. Such include food, housing upkeep, gardening, and leisure activities. We use up all of our money every year.”
Unfortunately, the past three years have brought unpredictable weather patterns and our agriculture production has suffered. The dates, especially, have had bad seasons for the last several years. As a result, we have fallen a little in debt.” Ari did not reveal how in debt the kibbutz was. I would later learn, from another member, that the kibbutz debt was unknown, but could be anywhere between NIS one and fifty million.
Ari continued. “To try and thicken up our economic base, we are opening the Kibbutz Institute for Environmental Studies. We will be teaching at least thirty international students about many aspects of environmentalism. If the institute goes well, we hope to expand it. Other kibbutzim have caught onto the idea of having institutes of their own, so competition may become tough for our school.”
The atmosphere of our conversation then changed. Ari asked me where I was working.” I made a gesture of uncertainty. I wasn’t yet sure where I would be working. Ari then looked at a clock on the wall. “So many things to do here. I must be going, Brian, but I hope all goes well for you.” I thanked Ari and walked out the door, quite happy about our talk.
I started walking back to my room. I wondered where I would be working. I had heard rumors of the cool jobs from other volunteers. Claire promised me that, “The dates, definitely the dates, was the best job.” Matt disagreed, “No, the Refet (dairy) was the most fun and least stressful.” Sue intervened, “What ever you do, don’t work in the dining room. It’s so boring.” I had told the work coordinator that I was from the university and that I wanted a good job so that I could come in contact with as many people as possible and really study the kibbutz. I made it clear that I would be around for a while, so that I could be trained in an important job, if need be.
Well, to my dismay, I was placed in the dining hall. As I had heard negative input about this job, I was a bit upset. After all, I was a college student, studying a kibbutz in the middle the desert, in the middle of the East, and they gave me the most boring job on kibbutz. I found serving food and cleaning tables to be quite elementary, but I made the best of my situation. I soon realized that working in the dining room had some underlying benefits which would actually help me in studying the kibbutz.
Working in the dining room was a high profile job; I was serving food to everyone. This gave me the opportunity to superficially observe most people currently living and working on the kibbutz. I was able to meet to a lot of members and I started to ask questions about kibbutz life. I was also able to hear some of the kibbutz gossip that was going around. Most importantly, though, my presence in the dining room helped me to become less of a threat to the permanent members of the kibbutz who would ultimately reveal their lifestyle to me.
My status on kibbutz was that of a volunteer. Fundamentally, volunteers came to kibbutz for a chance to see how a communal, socialist society worked, in hopes that a small percentage of us might stay on and be absorbed. In actuality, less than 1/10 of 1% of us stayed here permanently. We were really here for the simple, brute fact for the need of cheap labor to undertake the menial and undesirable jobs which most members didn’t want to do anymore. Such jobs included working endless hours in the melon, date, and tomato packing house, or cleaning up after careless people in the dining hall. One would think that the kibbutz volunteer might get some respect for completing the grunt jobs of kibbutz. Unfortunately, such was the opposite.
The role of the volunteer, as I would later find, had an interesting stigma attached to it. Volunteers were basically the lowest social group residing on a community which theoretically promoted equality amongst all. We lived in our own area, we ate together, and we were often ignored by the kibbutz members. The cause of this alienation was quite simple in origin, but resulted in many volunteers coming to kibbutz and then leaving without ever really experiencing the true essence of the community.
Volunteers were quite necessary on Kibbutz Arava, and our high numbers confirmed this. However, the kibbutz volunteer represented an interesting threat to the values of the kibbutz life. We came, quite innocently, but brought with us the contaminants of the capitalist conquest— our clothes, our musical cassettes, and our monetary values. As the simplistic life on kibbutz didn’t leave room for a lot of the luxuries we were used to, we were categorized as living pollutants from the West; potential corrupters of the inherent kibbutz values found within the community.
Our mobility took its toll, as well. All too soon, right after getting to know the people and the place, we would up and leave. Those who had known us and even cared for us were left with a hole, often only filled with the images we represent, the hints and desires of a more materialistic lifestyle.
Members had different ways in dealing with the problem of the volunteer. Some members simply ignored us, and one member went so far as publicly denouncing, “I hate volunteers.” Other members were opened to talk with us but remained rather reserved. A couple members loved us. All in all, though, unless if I worked with a member, it was quite hard to get to know them, and even harder to ask personal questions of their lives.
I was determined to overcome this initial barrier of volunteer alienation. After all, how could I ever study the kibbutz if I was just some detached bystander. I decided to start my field study slowly. I would do the best work that I could do in the dining room, and I would be open and understanding about my presence on this kibbutz. I knew that I was an outsider trying to get in. I felt that good work and honesty were the best approach in trying to integrate myself into this tight society.
Work in the dining room progressed slowly, but smoothly. After serving a couple of meals, I noticed an interesting thing going on with the cutlery and glasses. Some meals used forks and knifes with plastic handles, and other meals used all metal silverware. Some meals had plastic cups and other used glasses. I asked my supervisor why this was, and I found out some interesting news.
Kibbutz Arava was special in that it was one of the only kibbutzim, out of around 240, that had both religious and secular Jews residing. I knew that Jewish law called for strict kosher dietary laws and that religious folks residing on Kibbutz Arava would need those dietary law fulfilled if they were to live here. I also knew that many non-religious folks probably ignored those dietary laws. I wondered how the kibbutz achieved harmony between the religious and secular peoples' food needs. As harmony amongst people with different needs is a vital element of community, I found the following example pertinent in explaining one way how Kibbutz Arava created a successful community.
To solve the food problem, the dining room only served kosher food. Of course, not everyone on the kibbutz felt it necessary to eat kosher, but since some folks needed to, and since the kibbutz decided to combine religious and secular folks, the kitchen needed to adhere to the limiting factor pertaining to the two groups; in this case, a kosher diet. So the kitchen operated solely as a kosher entity.
Kosher laws prohibited the combination of milk and meat in the same meal. In addition, a kosher kitchen could not make kosher meals and non-kosher meals at the same time. Formalities of the kosher laws suggested that milk and meat could not be physically together in the same cooking space due to a possibility of contamination. Therefore, breakfast and dinner meals were usually served as milk meals. Lunch was a meat meal. (Of course there was always vegetarian and vegan options.) Each meal had its own set of cutlery and glasses. Even the dish washing machine had a setting for dairy and meat meals. Between meals, the machine was “kosherized” where an electronic rabbi came down and zapped the machine kosher.
I wondered if having a kosher dining room created a problem for those who cared less about eating kosher. Well, up until now, I had not heard a complaint, and it seemed that some people, such as visitors, didn’t even notice a thing. I didn’t notice the meal rotation until I asked about the different glasses and cutlery.
Monday passed, then Tuesday, and now it was Wednesday. I had made inquiries about switching jobs, but it seemed that I would be working in the dining room for at least another week. That was O.K., though, because I was meeting more people, and I felt that some members were starting to open up and acknowledge me. I was also learning a lot about the values and functions of kibbutz life.
Lunch on kibbutz was the biggest meal of the day. Everyone had worked hard all morning and this created large appetites which often resulted with huge messes for me to clean. I started wiping the tables, and in frustration I exclaimed, “Can’t these people be a little more neat?” My supervisor overheard my question and gave me some quick insight. “Brain, on kibbutz, all the fruits of labor are shared and enjoyed by everyone.” Then suddenly, I began to understand a basic concept in community living. If the dining room was messy and boring, it was O.K., because the work I did helped to support me and the rest of the community. No one elite person was reaping the benefits of my hours of menial labor— everyone was benefiting. This realization led to new feelings about my work of which I had never felt before; work actually wasn’t that terrible if it helped to better the community, and not just make extra profit for some random corporation. This realization led to other observations and more insight about kibbutz.
Work was the central activity on kibbutz, but it never was as formal and demeaning as work in the U.S. I soon found several relaxed things about kibbutz work. I could talk with my co-workers, and even with my boss, and not fear getting yelled at. People treated me like a human being, and not some commodified, alienated employee. It was O.K. if I showed up 5 minutes late once in a while. I could go to work with messy hair, because my boss had messy hair and a beard, and 50% of the other men had messy hair and beards. I never had to wear a certain stupid uniform displaying corporate logos of some galactic corporate entity that was probably doing environmental injustice somewhere else. I could simply wear shorts to work. There were no job interviews. There were no job rejections. Either you were needed for a job, or you were not. And if they didn’t need you, it wasn’t because you weren’t qualified enough or you didn’t look the right way, it was because they needed you more somewhere else. I happened to be needed in the dining room when I arrived and that’s where they put me. It didn’t matter that I was from some university or that I wanted to study the kibbutz. All that mattered was that I worked to the best of my ability.
Since I worked in the dining room, there was a concern about health as I was handling food. But I found that I was washing my hands and keeping everything as clean as possible not because “the Man” was looking over my shoulder with threats, but because these people were my extended family for the next part of my life, and I felt a compassion to do a decent job for them. A decent job in the dining room meant cleanliness. So it was no problem keeping clean.
The next day I awoke and went to work. Today was the fifth day of work. That meant that tomorrow was the weekend. Right? Nope. On kibbutz we all worked six days a week. It sure seemed like a Friday today, but it wasn't. I would have to get used to the six day work week. Tomorrow was Friday, the sixth day of work, and the next day was Shabbat, the day of rest. Goddess created the heavens and Earth in six days, and on the seventh day, she rested, and so we did too. On kibbutz, it didn’t matter if you were religious or not; when Saturday rolled around, everyone rested. Having one day off a week really didn’t give me much time hang out and I would soon learn that the lengthy work week was really one of the largest down falls of kibbutz life for myself. The day of rest came and went and my one day off ended too soon. Several more days passed, and work in the dining room eventually grew old. Knowing that I could not really spend my kibbutz experience tidying the commons and refilling soap containers.
Next Chapter: Dates, dates, and more dates...
15. Many different species of fish are raised in the kibbutz owned fish ponds using computers to control the climates of the ponds. The fish are raised for human consumption and bring in a lot of money for the kibbutz.
16. Multiply Israeli shekels by “3” to approximate 1996 U.S. dollars (or “4” to approximate 2000 U.S. dollars).