THE WORK ETHIC

 

Next week my kibbutz will undergo a profound transformation!  Renewal is the best description of this structural-socio-economic change. 

At one time the term” privatisation” was widely used to describe the proposed change. However, sociologists and marketing experts, thought "renewal" would be easier to promote. Understandably, there was some opposition to the change, but finally, after   the proposal was repeatedly brought to the vote, the new format was approved by the majority required by law.

It's quite likely that you will recognise some of the topics I have included in this week’s post. I am recycling them because they are especially relevant now.

Hopefully, the change will lead to a society that is both efficient and caring. In the discussions that were held prior to the final vote, the work ethic was mentioned many times. At the time, I recalled an anecdote I heard from one of our ‘old-timers.’.

For many years Shlomo Rosenberg, handled odd maintenance jobs and the upkeep of paths around the kibbutz. The paths, mainly much-worn pedestrian tracks are short-cuts between a number of points inside the kibbutz. Once they were unpaved tracks covered with crushed stone, slaked and packed to form a hard surface.

Rosenberg, as he was known to everyone, replete with pick, shovel and wheelbarrow was usually found somewhere along one of the paths repairing eroded edges and filling in potholes.

Today, Rosenberg’s paths are paved with concrete and few remember the dusty crushed stone tracks that preceded them.

Rosenberg never married and had no known relatives. He was content to live frugally in his small sparsely furnished apartment.

The man was a living legend, someone from another era who never managed to keep apace with the ever-changing kibbutz community. He seemed awkwardly out of place and time as Ein Harod progressed and became more affluent.

Sometime after his ninetieth birthday, age got the better of him. He moved to our “Isolator,” originally an isolation facility to accommodate sick adults and children. Later on, it was renovated and repurposed to serve as an assisted living centre. Rosenberg died there a few years later.

Despite his eccentricity I always admired him. There was something about my New Zealand connection that aroused his curiosity.  So, I wasn’t surprised when he welcomed me warmly whenever I visited him. We traded memories. I described the landscape and the people of New Zealand and he described the bleak Jordan and Jezreel Valleys in” fifty shades of grey” at the beginning of the Jewish settlement.

In one of our conversations, he told me about the “long field “at Degania. I’m sure I’ve  mentioned it before. Nevertheless, it’s worth repeating.   

In October or November 1911, a number of plough teams were ploughing a field. The field was the longest field in the country; it stretched for one kilometre close to the south bank of the river Jordan. It was part of an experimental land allotment allocated to thirteen people who had formed a collective settlement called Degania. The horse drawn ploughs were turning perfectly straight furrows in the soil. Work had started shortly after dawn and continued with a short break for a simple lunch till dusk. One of the ploughmen was a newcomer to Degania. In those days there were no reception committees and people wandered in and out almost at will. They stayed as long as they worked or were asked to leave.

Earlier the same year the Degania settlers had harvested their first crop of wheat. The yield was good and it left them with a small profit. Had the crop failed the group would have probably disbanded and the collective settlement later called the kibbutz might never have come into being.

Late in the afternoon the newcomer reined in his horse, pulled out a leather tobacco pouch, took a pinch of tobacco and rolled a cigarette. He lit the cigarette and smoked it, then returned to his work. Unknown to him he had broken a cardinal rule, a basic tenet of the group’s work ethic and the unscheduled break had been seen by everyone in the field.

At the end of the day when everyone had gathered in the dining room for the evening meal the group was silent. There was no mention of the cigarette but the offender could sense the unspoken censure. The next morning before dawn, while the members of the group were still sleeping, the newcomer gathered his belongings and left.

Rosenberg left Degania and joined Ein Harod shortly after it was founded in 1921.

 

  

The nameless ploughman, Rosenberg and everyone else in the field including the horses have gone the way of all flesh. The ploughshares are museum pieces scattered around the country. Only the field remains the same, tilled year in year out since time immemorial.

The Degania group was formed to solve the problem of a deadlock crisis and for the past hundred years there has always been a crisis of one kind or another in the kibbutz movement. Many times, the Kibbutz appeared to be on the brink of total collapse. Despite all the crises this collective settlement form has survived.

It is remarkably resilient and so far, has defied all the predictions of its demise. Does it possess the moral fibre to ride out the crisis that is plaguing it now?

Let's "rewind" to 1911 and the anonymous ploughman who unwittingly broke a cardinal rule. The rigid work ethic that damned him as a slacker has long been jettisoned along with other outmoded "principles." Admittedly the stigma attached to anyone who didn't pull his or her weight, to every under-performer, served to deter potential shirkers. I mention this topic because it is a pivotal point in the ongoing debate concerning the kibbutz community's social fabric.

The crisis that caused the present division in the kibbutz communities can be traced to the attempts made by the kibbutz federations and their affiliated member kibbutz communities to resolve their financial debts.

Although an understanding of the root causes of the debt crisis is important. and relevant to any analysis of the kibbutz today, I want to avoid dealing with it mainly because it’s a side issue, a time-consuming digression.

Initially many of the kibbutzim heavily in debt embarked on extensive privatisation including a differential salaries payment system.

In an effort to cut costs they privatised almost everything that was formerly supplied by the kibbutz without payment.

The privatisation of water, electricity, food and a number of services has been accepted almost universally in most kibbutz communities. Kibbutz members receive allowances for all the items privatised so paying for them hasn’t impoverished the kibbutz member. He/she is thriftier. Indeed, the axiom “waste not want not “is applicable to this situation.

The real bone of contention is the differential wage system.

The people in favour of a differential wage system claim that members who work harder fill more responsible positions and generally contribute more to the community deserve more than a token recognition. The wage disparity in many kibbutz communities that have adopted a differential wage system now places them on a par with the general society. They have created a nouveau-riche economical elitist class within a close-knit social entity – the kibbutz. Provision for pensions in cases where the kibbutz neglected to pay into pension funds is now paid for mainly by the people who earn more. They pay proportionately more to support the kibbutz social and cultural infrastructure. Therefore, it’s not surprising to find growing discontent, a reluctance among the better salaried members to support the senior citizen sector, members with special requirements as well as services and facilities they consider to be superfluous, simply a waste of money.

A random glance at neighbouring communities in the Jezreel Valley reveals that a number of the privatised kibbutz communities have closed their communal dining rooms, laundries, cut back on cultural activities and generally have become more introspective. There is less communal sensitivity and concern.

The move from the traditional collective society to a highly privatised community occurred gradually. Initially the kibbutz communities adversely affected by the economic crisis of two to three decades ago were the first to “pare the fat.” By and large they managed to survive, some recovered well.

 

Have a good weekend.

 

Beni,              29^th of June, 2023.