Jun 17, 2010
Alas, our last day in the intellectually fertile mindscape of the Arava Valley. We wrapped up interviews on Kibbutz Lotan with Mark Naveh, the mazkir (ie, kibbutz secretary), about the challenges of his evolving community, and Mike Kaplin, one of the brains behind the creative ecology centre. Afterwards, we walked down the stairs of a bomb shelter—and into a student seminar about peace and social justice.
We returned to Ketura, where I had one of those only-in-Israel conversations with a Palestinian student in the swimming pool of the kibbutz. He described his intellectual aspirations and the frustrations of growing up and trying to do business as a Palestinian in East Jerusalem.
Finally, we sat in on several student presentations about their research at the Institute before we had to hop into the car and drive across the Negev Desert, past tank-training facilities and down into the Ramon Crater (where we nearly ran out of gas) before finally pulling into Kibbutz Urim. We were both intellectually and physically drained. We had seen visions of different ways of living together in the desert and it will take days, probably longer, to make sense of all that we learned there.
Jun 17, 2010
We woke up at Kibbutz Ketura and wandered just a few hundred feet to the offices (in the old turkey house) of the Arava Institute for Environmental Studies. First, we got a tour thanks to Tamar Norkin, an intern from the U.S., and then afterwards, we learned about the philosophy and programs from executive director David Lehrer. If Lotan takes a creative, hands-on approach to permaculture and ecological literacy, then Arava offers an intellectually focused program of university-level studies.
The Institute also brings together students from a range of often conflicting demographics: Israeli Jews, international students, Palestinians, Jordanians. As Lehrer told us, after the recent flotilla incident, the Arava Instiute was likely one of the only places where Israeli Jews and Palestinians were in the same room communicating with each other—they may have been shouting at times, but at least they were communicating.
That afternoon, we had an illuminating discussion with Uri Gordon, author of Anarchy Alive!, who teaches environmental politics and other courses at the Arava Institute. I was especially interested in his opinions (which he nearly did his PhD on, until he decided to focus on contemporary anarchism) about how A.D. Gordon, the intellectual godfather of the kibbutz movement, was also a forerunner of modern environmental thought.
Jun 16, 2010
The next morning, after another healthy Israeli breakfast, we drove just a little south to the legendary Kibbutz Samar. Variously described (and sometimes derided) as the “hippy kibbutz” or the “anarchist kibbutz”, Samar has famously combined communal economics with individual freedom. There are few committees or other bodies lording over the decisions of members. Instead, they share a single bank account (they used to have a common cash box, from which they just took money as they needed it), they work where they want and when they want, and not according the demands of a set job rotation. They don’t use hired labour for the grunt work. (Most of their money comes from growing organic dates.)
And despite the fears of the Kibbutz Movement and the predictions of skeptical observers, Samar still works in its own weird, anarchic way. We had a wonderful visit with Musa Menahem and his wife, both of whom were among the early settlers., and they told me many funny and inspiring stories about communal life on Samar. (More later.) I also asked about whether their children plan to stay on the kibbutz when they grow up. (They’re still not sure.) And we all wondered what a teenager on Samar would have to do to rebel against his or her parents: Become a lawyer for the Likud in Tel Aviv, I guess.
As several people told me, both on the kibbutz and off, Samar is an amazing experiment in communal sharing and personal freedom, but one whose structure has never been replicated becase it’s more about the unique people who live there than their rules (or lack thereof) for living together.
Afterwards, we dropped by Kibbutz Yotvata, the oldest and most successful (thanks to its dairy) community in the arid valley, and stopped for gelatos and a dip in the Red Sea in the resort town of Eilat. A perfect end to an inspiring day with amazing people who have found a way to live outside the mainstream of pure self-interest and hyper-capitalism.
Jun 16, 2010
After our meeting with the minister, we suffered rush-hour traffic one more time, fought our way out of Tel Aviv and headed south, past Beer-Sheva (where years ago I visited the market, bought a keffiyeh like the typical young tourist, and later saw several Bedouin men running beside my bus, laughing and shouting, “Arafat! Arafat!”) and, as night fell, descended off the plateau of Negev Desert and down into the Arava Valley. We dropped our bags in a guest room at Kibbutz Lotan and then woke the next morning for breakfast and a tour of the kibbutz’s innovative eco-education facilities.
Netta, a resident (but not a member), gave us a brief history of Lotan, and then led us to the Bustan, the student quarters where she also lives—a series of energy-efficient mud-covered straw-bale huts, like earthen igloos or Luke Skywalker’s home on Tatooine. We tried out some of the solar ovens and then walked to the Ecokef, a demonstration park and teaching area, with a cool playground made up of clayed-over garbage, composting toilets and an organic garden, where we plundered tea leaves and the last of their tomatoes. “Permaculture is my religion,” Netta told us. And it’s here on Lotan (where members also practise Reform Judaism) that newcomers get initiated into this philosophy of living lightly on the land.
After lunch, we hooked up with Alex Cicelsky, the director of research and development at Lotan’s Center for Creative Ecology, and had a long, wide-ranging and engaging conversation about the history of this unique kibbutz, its mix of spiritual and ecological philosophies (an environmental spin on tikkun olan), the challenges of building eco-friendly buildings, and other topics related to how ecological literacy has sprouted out of the communal life of Lotan. He invited us to the kabalat shabat ceremony later that evening and for Friday night dinner, where we met some of the students and volunteers. The song and prayer and shared meal helped us appreciate the melding of spiritual and communal life in this fascinating desert community.
The only disappointment of the day? The sign on the gate to the swimming pool: “Closed due to sandstorm.”
Jun 15, 2010
One last day in the big city—this time, to talk with some big wigs. First, we met with Abu Vilan, a former MK for the Meretz party and longtime player in the Artzi Federation of the kibbutz movement. He talked about his life on his own kibbutz and the challenges faced by the Israeli left in the current right-leaning political climate. (Part of it is image, he noted, pointing out how I look like the typical Israeli lefty with my reading glasses.)
Afterwards, we were lucky enough to have a half-hour meeting with Haim Oron, a kibbutznik and sitting member of the Knesset for the left-leaning Meretz Party. He expanded on a recent column he write about the creeping fascism—he told us McCarthyism might be more accurate—in Israeli politics, the way that any kind of dissent against the government is quickly demonized as unpatriotic. A fascinating conversation with that rare beast: a principled politician.
Coming up: A consciousness-expanding journey into the desert…
