Where Community Happens

Front matter

WHERE COMMUNITY HAPPENS

THE KIBBUTZ AND THE PHILOSOPHY OF COMMUNALISM

HENRY NEAR

PART FOUR Looking Outwards CHAPTER II

Afterword Works Cited Index of Concepts and Places

Index of Names

IOI

I2I

I4I

Acknowledgements

The chapters of the book are based on the following publications. They are all my own work, most of them previously published, but I have added to and/or altered the original text where I thought it necessary. An asterisk *, here and elsewhere in the book, indicates that the publication was originally in Hebrew; translations are by the author.

Chapter I

“The Collective Experience: Universal and Particular.” Utopian Thought and Communal Experience. Ed. D. Hardy & L. Davidson. Middlesex Polytechnic Geography and Planning Paper, No. 24 (1989): 37-43.

CHAPTER 2 Based on an unpublished lecture at the conference of the Utopian Studies Society, Plymouth, 2007.

CHAPTER 3 “I, Thou, We: Buber’s Theory of Community and the Kibbutz.” Economic and Industrial Democracy 73 (1986): 247-74.

CHAPTER 4

“Ben Gurion as Philosopher: Equality and Partnership.” Ben Gurion and the Kibbutz. Ed. A. Aharonson & A. Magen. Ef’al: Yad Tabenkin, 1995. 13-23.

CHAPTER 5 Expanded version of “Utopian and Post-Utopian Thought: The Kibbutz Model.” Communal Societies 5 (Fall 1985): 41-58.

xii Acknowledgements

CHAPTER 6 Based on an unpublished lecture at the conference of the International Communal Studies Association, Damanhur, 2007.

CHAPTER 7 Hitherto unpublished.

CHAPTER 8

Based on “Pioneers and Frontiersmen: Two Semantic-Historical Versions of Halutziut.’ Ivrit Safah Hayah. Ed. R. Ben-Shahar & G. Touri. Vol. IL. Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hame’uhad 1999, 175-85.

CHAPTER 9

Frontiersmen and Halutzim: The Image of the Pioneer in North America and Prestate Jewish Palestine. Published as a discussion paper by the Institute for Kibbutz Research, Haifa University, 1987. 56 pp.

CHAPTER IO Hitherto unpublished.

CHAPTER II “Paths to Utopia: The Kibbutz as a Movement for Social Change.” Jewish Social Studies 47.3-4 (1986): 169-206.

Glossary of Hebrew Terms

Ashkenazi: Jews of European origin (as opposed to Sephardi, of Middle Eastern origin)

Gedud Haavodah: “Work Legion’, the first country-wide kibbutz movement (1920-9)

Halutz: Pioneer

Hashomer Hatzair: “The Young Guard”, a youth movement and a central element in the Kibbutz Artzi kibbutz movement and the Mapam party

Hechalutz: “The Pioneer’, European movement for education, training and helping in the immigration to Palestine of young adults

Hever Hakvutzot: “Organization of Kvutzot’, kibbutz movement believing in small settlements and opposed industrialization of the kibbutz

Histadrut: “Organization’, general federation of workers’ groups, trade unions, settlements and economic enterprises

Ihud Hakvutzot Vehakibbutzim: “Union of kvutzot and kibbutzim’”, kibbutz movement (1951-80), politically allied to Mapai

Kibbutz Artzi: “Country-wide kibbutz movement’, founded by graduates of Hashomer Hatzair youth movement, politically allied to Mapam

Kibbutz Meuhad: “United kibbutz movement’, kibbutz movement (1927- 80), politically allied to Mapam from 1948 to 1954

Kvutza: Small kibbutz, until early 1950s based only on agriculture

Mapai: “Party of the Workers of the Land of Israel”, Zionist social-democratic party 1930-68, dominant in Zionist and Israeli politics for most of this time; leader: David Ben Gurion

Mapam: “United Workers’ Party”, left-wing opposition party, 1948-97

Moshav: Agricultural settlement based on family holdings and cooperation in marketing, sales, etc.

Yishuv: Zionist community of Palestine until 1948

Foreword

This book contains a number of articles and lectures, some of them unpublished, which I have written over the past two decades. Its title requires some explanation. It opens with a quotation from one of the few major philosophers who have dealt in depth with questions of community, or Gemeinschaft, and indicates both the importance of community as such in my philosophical outlook, and my intention of discussing it not only as an abstract concept, but as it is realized in the communal societies in which it “happens” — kibbutzim, communes, and various other types of intentional community. The main area of my past research has been the history of the kibbutz; this book is an attempt to view my findings, and those of others, in a broader, sometimes even a universal, perspective. As for “philosophy”, each of its classical definitions: a system of beliefs generally accepted by a particular community or group of communities, and the rational investigation of questions about communal life and thought, comes into play here. I describe various belief systems, and attempt to estimate their validity by a rigorous logical examination; I examine the changes in the meaning of various keywords in the lives of these communities; and I consider the ways in which communalists’ belief systems change as a result of encounters with reality.

Although, as I have remarked, the main field of my research has been the history of the kibbutz, summed up in my The Kibbutz Movement: a History, I have never considered the study of history to be only an end in itself; indeed, in my first book, The Kibbutz and Society,’ I expressed the

I Near, Henry. The Kibbutz Movement: A History. Vol. 1, Oxford: Littman Library and Oxford University Press, 1992; Vol. 2, London & Portland, Oregon: Littman Library, 1997.

2 *Near, Henry. The Kibbutz and Society, 1923-1933. Jerusalem: Yad Itzhak Ben Zvi Publications, 1984.

xvi Foreword hope (largely unfulfilled) that my research would be of use in the rethinking of kibbutz ideology which, even at that early stage, I considered to be necessary. And it is significant that in this connection I mentioned the ideological aspect of kibbutz history; for the founders and leaders of the kibbutz movement — and, to a considerable degree, most of its rank-andfile members — were motivated by ideological considerations, which have influenced its development throughout the hundred years of its existence. Nor is it accidental that this book appears in a series on utopian thought and practice; for, as I claim below, the kibbutz has at various times been a pre-utopian, a utopian, and a post-utopian society, and this has been, and still is, a central factor in its development.

This book, then, is an exercise in the history of the kibbutz idea. But, in my view, although the kibbutz, its ideology, and its practice stand at its centre, this is not its only importance. Each of the main themes of the book is exemplified not only in the kibbutz itself but in many other intentional communities, and is often seen to be of universal importance. I have, therefore, used a comparative methodology to seek the idea of community not only in the kibbutz itself but “wherever community happens”.

By and large, I discuss what is becoming known as “the classical kibbutz”, as it existed before the far-reaching changes of the 1980s. This is partly because at the time when I wrote the articles presented here such changes had neither been executed nor, in general, even thought of. But it is also because I believe that the dust has not yet settled sufficiently on these changes for us to see and analyse the contemporary kibbutz clearly in the way in which I have dealt with the earlier period. And, in any case, that period stands as an independent example of ways and life and thought of universal import. In this respect, the achievements of the classical kibbutz may be compared with those of Athenian democracy at its height: the significance of both is most clearly seen during their period of glory; and most of the arguments presented here apply mainly, though not exclusively, to this period.

The first section of the book deals with a subject which I believe to be central to any theory of communalism: the communal experience. I discuss it in philosophical rather than historical or sociological terms, asking whether the conclusions drawn by communards from this phenomenon

Foreword xvii

— widespread and often described, but never as often and as explicitly as in the kibbutz — are valid, and form a rational basis for a communal way of life.

The second section considers the kibbutz as a post-utopian society: the thought-processes resulting from the fact that pristine utopian ideals are never completely realized are described and analysed, and kibbutz post-utopianism compared with similar phenomena in the world at large.

The third section considers the kibbutz as a pioneering society, and analyses the development of the idea of pioneering (halutziut) from its biblical origins until the mid-1970s. Here again, the comparative method is used, and the Zionist concept of pioneering is compared with that of the United States. This section ends with a discussion of the pioneering Zionist youth movements. Though youth and youth organizations have been widely discussed in the research literature, there is no exact parallel to these movements, which not only recruited tens of thousands of young people for educational activities, but have played, and, indeed, still play a vital role in the development of the kibbutz movement.

Finally, under the heading “looking outwards”, I have included a chapter which examines the way in which kibbutz members have attempted to influence the world around them.

I have added an afterword, both as a summing-up of the main theses of the book, and in order to make some attempt at considering the relevance of the substance of the book, most of which deals with a past which will never be repeated, to the situation of the kibbutz, and of communal societies in general, in the realities of the twenty-first century.

It would be hard to single out individuals to whom I am indebted for criticism and discussion of the ideas expressed here over the past twenty years. They include my Israeli colleagues in the academic field of the history of Palestine/Israel; fellow members of Kibbutz Beit Ha’emek, including my late wife, Aliza; my partner Roberta Levin; and the members of the (European) Utopian Studies Society, with whom I have conducted a fruitful dialogue since 1989. All of them added to my understanding and precluded errors; though, of course, the text as it stands is mine alone.

xviii Foreword

My special thanks to the Ralahine Centre for Utopian Studies, University of Limerick, and particularly to Dr Joachim Fischer, for editorial help, and to Oranim College, Israel, for financial support.

PART ONE The Collective Experience

CHAPTER I

Why do people join communes? And, having joined them, why do they stay in them, despite the peculiar difficulties and discouragements of everyday life in a closely-knit community? The answers are without doubt complex and manifold. I want to concentrate on one of them, an element in communal life which, in my view, has not been adequately discussed in the research literature. I shall refer to it by the deliberately neutral term, “the collective experience”. Let me open my discussion with an ostensive definition. Here are two descriptive pieces which will give some idea of the nature of this phenomenon:

How often in the brooding warmth and stillness of summer nights, when the senses are fairly oppressed with natural beauty [...] does the charm of nature grow so intense that [...] the senses are sublimed to an ecstasy [...]

Through this and a wealth of similar experiences, the author comes to realise that:

The instinct of universal solidarity, of the identity of our lives with all life, is the centripetal force which binds together in certain orbit all orders of being [...]

[The] passion for losing ourselves, which rebels against individuality as an impediment, is the expression of the greatest law of solidarity [...] It is the operation of this law in great and low things, in the love of men for women, and for each other for the race for nature [...] that has ever made up the web and warp of human passion. (Bellamy 24, 31-2)

This quotation is quite familiar to many students of communal societies. Here is another, more concrete, but less well known:

It was a magical night; the stars blinked and smiled at me and I understood what they were saying; they saw in me an old friend, and called me to themselves. And I felt that my soul was lifted up close to the sky and the stars, and a delightful feeling of love suffused all my limbs [...] I ceased to think. I felt only one thing: I am alive, I am alive. And every moment is an eternity of beauty, delight, and eternal life [...] Suddenly I was awakened from my dream by the sound of many voices singing together [...] I hastened to the camp, and leapt into the circle [of dancers ...] and so we danced round and round, to the point of [...] surcease [...] Then were we all as one man, and one feeling beat within us. We were drunk with joy and youth. (Tsur 76; my translation)

The first quotation is from a short essay by Edward Bellamy entitled “The Religion of Solidarity”. The second is from one of the classical texts of the early history of the kibbutz: the collective biography of the first group of graduates of the Zionist youth movement Hashomer Hatza’ir, written as a summing-up of their first year of communal life.

Note the common elements. There is a feeling of wonder at, and oneness with, nature, and with one’s fellow human beings within their natural setting; and this oneness — “solidarity”, in Bellamy’s word, “love” in that of the young kibbutzniks — is felt so intensively that it leads to a state close to ecstasy, a sort of semi-mystic experience. In the words of another well-known description, also of a young kibbutz in the early 1920s:

There was a sort of mutual yearning, a desire to sit together far into the night, and thereby to penetrate the very depth of the vision of communal life. Soul touched soul. We longed to become a sort of river of souls, whose tributaries would merge, and together create a fresh and mighty current of friendship and fraternity. (Likever 146-7)

So much for the content and quality of the collective experience. As for its provenance, let me note at this point that in both cases — and, in fact, quite typically — it happens to young people. Bellamy was, in his own words, “a boy of twenty-four” when he described these experiences, and doubtless much younger when he began to have them. The members of the Hashomer Hatza’ir group were roughly twenty years old. Both of these events were of very great importance in the lives of those who underwent them. Bellamy wrote: “This paper [...] represents the germ of what has been ever since my philosophy of life”; and, more than forty years after the publication of the collective diary, some of its authors told a visiting anthropologist that what happened to them in some nine months of intensive collective experience had been the basis of their values and actions ever since (Bellamy 48; Spiro 51-9).

This, then, is the collective experience which will be discussed in this chapter. It is, of course, not unknown to students of the kibbutz. Indeed, through the writings of Herman Schmalenbach and Yonina Talmon-Garber it has undergone a sort of process of reification: the word Bund (in Hebrew edah) is frequently used to denote the small, close-knit community which such experiences are thought to typify (Schmalenbach 64-125; Talmon- Garber 2).’ I have no quarrel with this, in the context of sociological theorizing. Here, however, I am concerned to attempt to define the experience itself rather more closely, and to ask whether the claims made for it by many who have undergone it can be rationally justified: a philosophical discussion, rather than a sociological or psychological one.

I have used the phrase “semi-mystical experience”. I shall start my analysis by asking which half is which: to what extent can this “ecstasy” or “yearning” properly be called a mystical state? But let me first settle a preliminary issue. Could it not be that our semi-mysticism is half true and half false, half real and half imitation? In other words, that we have here no more than a socialized — some might say a debased — form of one of the major mystical traditions?

It certainly looks as if Bellamy leads us in this direction; for much of what he has to say amounts to little more than the shibboleths of American nineteenth-century transcendentalism; and, indeed, the same path leads us to Brook Farm and similar experiments. Transcendentalism itself was, of course, not a purely indigenous school of thought, but a reworking of various imported ideas, including Eastern mysticism. (Frothingham

I Schmalenbach himself sometimes uses Bund (badly translated in the English version by “communion”) to denote an emotion, sometimes a social structure (contrasted with both Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft). Gemeinschaft and, in Hebrew, hevruta, are also often used to denote the same phenomenon, or one like it.

chs. 6, 7; Christy). Moreover, to cite two parallel cases out of many: Gustav Landauer found inspiration for his theories of communitarian socialism in the pantheism of the medieval German mystic, Meister Eckhart; and the predilections of many contemporary communards for their own versions of oriental philosophy are well known.’ So perhaps this is the best interpretation of the collective experience?

There is some backing for such a view in the intellectual history of the kibbutz. In 1961 David Ben Gurion, speaking of the concept of community as fundamental to the kibbutz, said: “Community is not only a supreme human principle [...] it is also a cosmic principle which embraces a whole universe.” In words which were almost a paraphrase of Bellamy’s he elaborated the view that men do not only form a community with each other but are part of a cosmic whole “in which there is no dying or withering away but constant renewal and eternal revitalization” (Ben Gurion, “Reflections”).’ Although Ben Gurion was never a kibbutz member he had a pretty good idea of what goes on in the kibbutz; and there may be some significance in the fact that in his only attempt at a philosophical treatment of this phenomenon he turned to the Eastern philosophers. Martin Buber, whose social philosophy influenced and was influenced very deeply by the kibbutz movement, was widely read in Jewish and non-Jewish mysticism. And others have looked for an ancestry of the collective experience of the kibbutz in the ideas and practices of Jewish mystics.* Maybe all that one

2 Lunn, 1973, ch. 3. In the 1960s and early 1970s “the doctrine of Eastern religions [...] blossomed like a springtime orchard in the emerging counterculture” (Zicklin 11). Of 120 communes studied by Benjamin Zablocki, twenty-two professed Eastern religions (Zablocki 209).

For a more detailed discussion of Ben Gurion’s view see below, ch. 4. 4 w

4 Onekibbutz group - among them many of the authors of Kehiliateinu — deliberately adopted the word “kibbutz” to describe their community because it was used by the Bratislav Hassidim, an ecstatic Jewish sect, as a name for their periodic gatherings (Near, “Language of Community” 26-123). It should be emphasized that the kibbutz members referred to in this chapter are not orthodox or, as a group, religious in any formal sense. There is clear evidence for the influence of Hassidism on one segment of the orthodox kibbutz movement; but these kibbutzim are, and always have been, a small part of the kibbutz movement as a whole.

can say about the collective experience is that it is a derivative phenomenon, drawing on one of the great mystical traditions — perhaps even on more than one.

It would, of course, be hard to prove that it is not so. Ifone looked hard enough, one could no doubt find proof of all sorts of hidden influences; and, failing concrete evidence, there is always the Zeitgeist. But I should like to present some considerations — though not, perhaps, proof in the strictly academic sense — which indicate that the collective experience often occurs as a result of the intrinsic situation, without reference to external ideas.

More than thirty years ago, when still a student, I myself described communal life as a semi-mystical experience, and spoke of “the moral revelation which springs from the common life and work of a close-knit group of people” (Near, “Elephants”). And I can testify that the experiences I spoke of were part of my own personal biography. They were not derived from my reading or from others’ stories of kibbutz life, but from my own experiences with others and of others in the activities of the Jewish youth movement in which I was then active. When, ata later stage, I tried to put them into a universal conceptual framework I was tempted, as was Ben Gurion some years later, to find parallels in Eastern thought, and in mysticism in general. But the experience itself was autonomous, unmistakable, quite recognizable in the descriptions of my friends, and, as I shall now try to show, readily distinguishable from any form of mysticism proper. As I acquired more knowledge of the kibbutz and its history, I realized that my experience was not particularly unusual. I believe, therefore, that the collective experience is not an echo of some cultural tradition, but a widespread occurrence, arising spontaneously from the actions and interactions of people — particularly young people — in small groups. It can be the result of working together of singing or dancing together, or of the sort of discussion in which “soul touches soul”. History also shows us that it can be the result of fighting or engaging in sport together — a phenomenon enshrined in the language as “esprit de corps”. The great majority of those who undergo it feel it to be positive, significant, and worthy of repeating if possible.

According to William James’ classic definition of mystic experiences, they are “ineffable, noetic, transient and passive” (James 299-301). Some of this seems to fit. The collective experience is ineffable, in that any verbal report is only a pale reflection of the real thing, and no description can be really meaningful to one who has not experienced it him- (or her)self. But, compared with the experience of the lone mystic, it is open to discussion, recollection, comparison and analysis; for it is of its essence that it is shared, and therefore in the public domain — even though the public may be restricted.

It is noetic, in James’ definition: “Mystical states [...] seem to those who experience them to be also states of knowledge. They are states of insight into depths of truth unplumbed by the discursive intellect” (300). The collective experience grants knowledge of the existence of an entity — the group — which is in some sense greater than the sum of its parts. More than this — more, indeed, than in some individual mystic states — it is felt to have normative implications. They may be phrased in many different ways, but their general import is clear: it is better to cooperate than compete, better to love than to hate.

It is certainly transient, for nobody can live permanently with such intensity of feeling. It comes during the working day or at its end, in the heat of battle, during a songfest or dance. If the community is permanent, it may be repeated in many forms and at many times. In kibbutz life, for instance, many cultural events are arranged in such a way that “the together’, in the Hebrew phrase, is facilitated and emphasized: the Jewish festivals, the Reception of the Sabbath on a Friday evening, a wide variety of local celebrations, are not only cultural events, but also a framework in which the whole kibbutz population can be, and feel itself, together. Much effort is invested in promoting such experiences, even though everyone knows that, while they may often be repeated, they are ephemeral.

As for passivity, it is true that the collective experience comes uncalled for, sometimes even unwanted. But it is doubtful whether it can properly be called passive in James’ sense; for much can be done and is done to bring it about and repeat it. It is true of collective experiences, as of mystical states, that they can come about spontaneously, and often do in the early stages of a group’s existence. But such activities as singing and dancing are often deliberate and active ways of bringing them to life again.

The few examples I have adduced, which are of course a tiny selection from the mass of evidence, show that there is such a thing as a collective experience; and I have gone some way towards defining, or at least describing, it. From the point of view of social psychology there can be no doubt that such occurrences are of great value in maintaining any small community; and it would not be difficult to bring examples from the history of the kibbutz or other communal societies to show that this is so. The question I want to ask, however, is in the range of what James calls the noetic — not whether the collective experience is socially useful, but whether it can be rationally justified; in other words, are the insights which it affords valid? My starting-point will be similar to that of the earlier part of this chapter: a comparison between the collective experience and its distant relative, mysticism.

I have said that the noetic aspect of both of these phenomena can be divided into two parts: factual, and normative. In each of these respects, the collective experience is demonstrably a more reliable guide than mystic revelations.

The problem of the truth or falsity of mystic experiences is notoriously difficult. How can there be any certainty that it was actually God who spoke to the saint, rather than the devil? Did an act of levitation take place, or was it an illusion produced by lack of food and sleep, or a process of autosuggestion? An analysis of various strategies for removing one’s doubts as to the veracity of such an experience shows that there is only one unquestionable form of confirmation: the quality of the experience itself; it is, in the words of St Teresa of Avila, “so deeply graven upon the understanding that one can no more doubt it than one can doubt the evidence of one’s own eyes”. But the conviction that it is so is part of the experience itself, and cannot reasonably be conveyed to another with the same degree of absolute certainty: my doubts about whether Teresa saw what she thinks she saw can only be allayed by my having the same experience (or an equally convincing one). Any argument other than that of direct experience, whoever uses it (including the mystic herself) is fallible, in view of the possibility of systematic error. George Mavrodes concludes his discussion of real and deceptive mystical experiences thus:

It may be that what happened to Teresa engraved on her soul that which her description will not engrave on our souls [...] As [...] she said: “Ifanyone thinks I am lying I beseech God in His goodness to give him the same experience.” When Teresa prayed that prayer she may have done us her best service. (Mavrodes 257)

If I may translate this into my own terminology: mystic visions are essentially in the private domain. And, by contrast, the collective experience is in the public domain. Here is another quotation from the collective diary of the Hashomer Hatzair graduates:

I love you all only at certain moments, moments of happiness without end; then I love the whole world within my kibbutz. Then I express my love by holding out my hand, by a heart-felt glance, by a sudden clasp of the hand — and it has happened that the other person has looked at me as if I were mad. (Kehiliateinu 59)

A person in such a situation is not in the same state as the solitary mystic. He does not have to offer up St Teresa’s prayer, for it has been answered in advance. He can talk to his friends about what has happened, even though in the last resort his questions may well amount to no more than “Didn’t you feel it, too?” In the concrete situation of the kibbutz, the collective experience is not only deliberately fostered. When it happens, people usually know of it. In principle, it is subject to verification of a logical order quite different from that of the mystic vision.

The analysis of the normative aspect is somewhat different. It makes sense to say that the simultaneous experiences of a group of individuals are compelling empirical evidence for the existence of a special sort of social entity. But the same does not necessarily apply to the question of whether they approve or disapprove of this entity. In 1921, when Degania, the first kibbutz, had been in existence for a decade, two opposing value judgements were made about communal life by the very people who had created and lived it. At the very same time the relations between the members were described by some as “ideal”, and by others as “small minded and constricting” (Katznelson, The Kvutza 27; Lavi, “On Our Work” 57). This should not surprise us; nor does it involve a logical contradiction. But it does raise a number of questions, not the least of which is a terminological one: do we want to say that they all lived through the same experiences,

The Collective Experience: Universal and Particular II and reached different normative conclusions? Or that people living at the same place and time, doing the same things, and interacting in a most intensive fashion, had different experiences? It may help to see the issue from a more general perspective.

One of the ways in which people make up and change their minds about moral and political issues is by conversion. Saul had a vision on the road to Damascus; lesser personages see — or are shown — the light. A view of war or riots on the television changes a person’s way of voting, sometimes his whole way of life. In each case, a change of moral values is derived from an experience: Jesus is seen as the saviour, war is seen as hideous.

These experiences are but extreme and well-defined examples of a process which is basic to the formation of our moral judgements. Each of us acquires his/her values by a series of experiences which are themselves acts of evaluation. This is not the only way of making moral judgements; nor does it preclude the use of reason in ethics. But it does provide a series of what may be called moral sense-data, which can be ordered, clarified and (one hopes) made consistent by rational means.