Page 16 - C.A.L.L. #33 - Winter 2010/2011

KALEIDOSCOPE
debts to the banks and thousands of young people were leaving the communities. The kibbutzim were
in danger of falling apart."
The principal reforms were to introduce differential wages and privatise some of the services. It was
not an easy process. George Ney, 74, who has lived at Kfar Hanasi for almost 50 years, recalls in a
memoir: "It was a long, slow process, whose milestones were intense and sometimes bitter discussions.
The embers of our idealism haven't died out, and we even have a few firebrands still, but today I
think there is little doubt that the side of the individual outweighs the one of the community."
At Kfar Hanasi, the debate began in earnest when, in the early 1980s, the kibbutz discovered it was
bankrupt. "We weren't earning enough to cover our standard of living," Ney says now, recalling people
who left electric fires on all day
when they were at work because
they were not responsible for
individual bills.
The reforms included making
individual members pay for
services such as electricity,
telephones, postage and laundry
out of an allowance. The communal
dining room – previously the heart
of the kibbutz – which had served
three free meals a day, introduced
charges and eventually closed.
Previously, the slogan had been
"whatever the kibbutz decides";
now it became "personal choice", Degania, established 100 years ago this year.
according to Ney's memoir.
But the "earthquake" was the introduction of differential wages. It turned the kibbutz philosophy on
its head. "The jobs we once thought were the elite jobs – physical work in the fields and orchards –
turned out to pay the least," recalls Ney. Managers were paid more than labourers, and productivity
was rewarded. The kibbutz factory was sold to a private investor, a bed and breakfast enterprise to
attract tourists was launched.
Other kibbutzim around Israel were facing their own earthquakes. Degania Aleph, the first kibbutz to
be established in, October 1910, and where the centenary celebrations will take place in the autumn,
voted three and a half years ago to partially privatise itself. It was a hugely symbolic moment.
The members receive an allowance based on their jobs, although the differential between the lowest
and highest paid is capped at around 25%. The kibbutz provides housing, health, education and all
community services. "We wanted to keep the old idea of the collective but also to be connected to the
outside world," says Shay Shoshany, Degania's elected chairman. Ninety-five per cent of the members
voted in favour of the reforms, he says. "The world around us has changed, and we can't be an island."
Other kibbutzim are holding firm to the collective ideal, where everyone is paid the same regardless
of what they do. At Kibbutz Ba'ram, a few kilometres from the Lebanese border, 90% of the
community still take three meals a day in the communal dining room, where the food is excellent and
free. Raviv Gutman, 42, was born at Ba'ram, left for seven years and returned 12 years ago. There has
been some change, he concedes, citing the fact that cigarettes and televisions are no longer
distributed free.
To an outsider, it seems a model of collective living. Everything from nappies to piano lessons are
provided for children; there are 100 communal cars that members can book on the kibbutz intranet;
jobs are allocated by a committee; there is a gym, a swimming pool, a theatre showing movies and
shows, even a kibbutz pub that opens two evenings a week. Members who choose to work outside the
kibbutz pay their entire salary into a central fund. Even the climate is good. "We don't have a problem
with people leaving [the kibbutz]," says Gutman. "Why would you want to leave? People have a good life
here."

Cheers, bye, Joel Dorkam

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