The Communal Idea in the 21st Century [1 ed.] 9789004236257, 9789004207455

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The Communal Idea in the 21st Century

International Comparative Social Studies Editor-in-Chief

Mehdi P. Amineh Amsterdam School for Social Science Research (AISSR)— University of Amsterdam and International Institute for Asian Studies (IIAS)—University of Leiden Editorial Board

Sjoerd Beugelsdijk, Radboud University, Nijmegen, The Netherlands Simon Bromley, Open University, UK Harald Fuhr, University of Potsdam, Germany Gerd Junne, University of Amsterdam, The Netherlands Ngo Tak-Wing, University of Leiden, The Netherlands Mario Rutten, University of Amsterdam, The Netherlands Advisory Board

W.A. Arts, University College Utrecht, The Netherlands G.C.M. Lieten, University of Amsterdam, The Netherlands H.W. van Schendel, University of Amsterdam/International Institute of Social History, Amsterdam L.A. Visano, York University, Canada

VOLUME 30 The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/icss

The Communal Idea in the 21st Century Edited by

Eliezer Ben-Rafael Yaacov Oved Menachem Topel

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2013

Cover illustration: Lilach Bar-Ami, “Images from the Encyclopedia,” digital collage, 2011. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data The communal idea in the 21st century / edited by Eliezer Ben-Rafael, Yaacov Oved, Menachem Topel.   p. cm. -- (International comparative social studies, ISSN 1568-4474 ; 30)  Includes bibliographical references and index.  ISBN 978-90-04-20745-5 (hbk. : alk. paper) -- ISBN 978-90-04-23625-7 (e-book) 1. Collective settlements. 2. Communal living. 3. Utopian socialism. I. Ben-Rafael Eliezer. II. Oved, Yaacov. III. Topel, Menachem.  HX630.C62 2013  307.77--dc23 2012028845

This publication has been typeset in the multilingual “Brill” typeface. With over 5,100 characters covering Latin, IPA, Greek, and Cyrillic, this typeface is especially suitable for use in the humanities. For more information, please see www.brill.com/brill-typeface. ISSN 1568-4474 ISBN 978-90-04-20745-5 (hardback) ISBN 978-90-04-23625-7 (e-book) Copyright 2013 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Global Oriental, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers and Martinus Nijhoff Publishers. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper.

CONTENTS Preface�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������vii List of Contributors������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� ix Introduction: A Difficult Question����������������������������������������������������������������������� 1 Eliezer Ben-Rafael, Yaacov Oved and Menachem Topel PART ONE

RELEXIONS AND THEORETICAL PERSPECTIVES General Thoughts about the Communal Idea������������������������������������������������21 Amitai Etzioni Developmental Communalism into the Twenty-First Century�����������������33 Donald E. Pitzer Theorizing Intentional Community in the Twenty-First Century�������������53 Lyman Tower Sargent Contemporary Communalism at a Time of Crisis�����������������������������������������73 Graham Meltzer Commune and Community: A Socialist Perspective������������������������������������91 Yiftah Goldman PART TWO

THE DIVERSITY OF CHALLENGES Communes and Communities: History and Perspective�������������������������� 113 Yaacov Oved Historical Perspectives on Participation������������������������������������������������������� 131 György Széll Community: Greatly Needed but Hard to Achieve������������������������������������� 145 Timothy Miller

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contents

Communal Aspects of Contemporary Life��������������������������������������������������� 161 Shulamit Reinharz In the Collective Interest: Job Quality������������������������������������������������������������ 171 Chris Warhurst and Katherine Trebeck PART THREE

A MULTI-SIDED PRAXIS The Communal Idea in 21st Century Australia and New Zealand�������� 189 Bill Metcalf Renewing Traditional Communality�������������������������������������������������������������� 205 Menachem Topel Christian and Messianic Jews’ Communes in Israel: Past, Present and Future�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 221 Rami Degani and Ruth Kark Gender, Power and Equality: Women’s Roles in Hutterite Society��������� 241 Yossi Katz and John C. Lehr PART FOUR

A CRITICAL TEST: THE TRANSFORMATION OF THE KIBBUTZ The Reciprocal Relationship between Feminism and Communal Life���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 269 Michal Palgi Kibbutz Education: Characteristics, Changes and Future Relevance���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 281 Maria Fölling-Albers Kibbutz: Survival at Risk������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 301 Eliezer Ben-Rafael Epilogue������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 323 Bibliography���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 327 Index������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 349

PREFACE This book is about the present and future of the communal idea. This idea has a great past and has known hours of glory. Ever since Antiquity and up to nowadays, communities and movements throughout the world aspire to implement forms of social organization and life experience that give expression to far-reaching ambitions in terms of social justice and equality. Though, while this idea has played a role of reference in human and intellectual history, its practical social concretizations have always been marginal to the mainstream of societies. Nowadays, more than ever, the transformations of social realities tend to obscure the perspectives that this idea is able to propose. In an era when horizons are unknown, the future of the communal idea is unclear and arises harsh theoretical and empirical questions. Confronting this twofold questioning is the purpose of this volume. In a first section, it raises the issue of the variety of approaches proposed by major scholars of the field to the problem of the present-day and foreseeing relevance of the communal ideal. In the additional parts (Part 2 and Part 3), major challenges and selected examples of endeavors are considered through the difficulties and achievements which are theirs nowadays, and the ways they try to open up their future. In these discussions, one may observe how far dynamic processes jeopardize utopian exigencies and aspirations and how far the aspiration to a “better society” is now more than ever dependent on the individuals who attach themselves to this kind of experience. A kind of experience, to be sure, that is not only of interest for its own sake but also for its carrying as well general humanistic, religious, spiritual and ideological significance. The kibbutz is the focus of the last section of the book because it is widely recognized as an exemplar of communal living that has transcended the typical marginal position in society in which many com­ munal societies find themselves. Does the trend toward increased privatization in the kibbutz today mean that “the kibbutz is loosing its raison d’être”? And what does the answer to this question mean, in general, for the communal idea? These questions are central to the theme of the volume. * * *

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This book has been carried out by a cooperation of two sociologists and one historian. Participate in the volume contributors of several disciplinary fields who illustrate how, in the big questions of our epoch, the retrenchment behind professional barriers has become outdated. Though, at the same time, cooperation in a common volume requires from contributors from different horizons mutual understanding and empathy. Hence, the editors of this volume wish to express here their gratitude to these prominent scholars for their readiness to involve themselves in this enterprise. We wish also to express our gratitude and respect to Professor Amineh Mehdi, the Editor-in-Chief of the series who has expressed his interest in the project from its very beginning and has sustained our efforts by investing his best in the review and correction of the manuscript. Moreover, all our very best feelings go to Rosanna Woensdregt at Brill who has accompanied us at all steps of our endeavor and was of the most precious support and help. In a more general matter, we want to extend our feelings of recognition to Brill that willingly accepted to endorse our work. The Editors

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS Eliezer Ben-Rafael was a member of Kibbutz Hanita for 20 years. He is a Professor Emeritus of Sociology at Tel-Aviv University and is Past President of the International Institute of Sociology. He received the Landau Prize for Life Achievements in Sociology. His works include Jewish Identities (Leiden: Brill, 2001), Is Israel One? (Leiden: Brill, 2005), The Kibbutz on Ways Apart (Jerusalem: Mossad Bialik and Yad Tabenkin, 2009 – Hebrew), Ethnicity, Religion and Class in Israel (Cambridge, N.Y.: Cambridge University Press, paperback re-print 2007), and Jews and Jewish Education in Germany Today (Leiden: Brill, 2011). His edited works include Transnationalism: The Advent of a new (dis)order (Leiden: Brill, 2009) and Comparing Modernities (Leiden: Brill, 2005). Rami Degany is a member of Kibbutz Nir David, Israel. He holds B.A degrees in Middle Eastern Studies (UCLA) and International Relations & History (Hebrew University of Jerusalem), an M.A. in Contemporary Judaism (Hebrew University), and a PhD in Christian History (Notre Dame University). He is an Adjunct Professor at the Pontifical University (Rome) & St Mary’s University (Maryland). Amitai Etzioni was a Professor of Sociology at University of California, Berkeley, for twenty years, chair of the department for part of his time there. He joined the Brookings Institution, served as Senior Advisor to the White House from 1979–1980. In 1980 he was named the first University Professor at The George Washington University where he serves as the director of the Institute for Communitarian Policy Studies. He leads the Communitarian Network based in Washington, D.C. and held a faculty position at Harvard Business School from 1987 to 1990. President of the American Sociological Association in 1995, he was named in 2001 among the top 100 American intellectuals. Founder of the communitarian movement in the early 1990s, he established the Communitarian Network. Among other works, he published: From empire to community: a new approach to international relations (2004); The new golden rule: community and morality in a democratic society (1998); The spirit of community: the reinvention of American society (1994).

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list of contributors

Maria Fölling-Albers, born 1946, Germany; teacher training, diploma in pedagogy and in psychology (in the 1970s, University of Muenster); PhD and post-doctorate graduation (topics: preschool education and elementary school education in kibbutzim). Work as a research assistant at the University of Oldenburg; from 1990–2011: chair for pedagogy (elementary school education) at the university of Regensburg (Bavaria, Germany). Main focuses in research: kibbutz education; modern childhood and its impact on elementary school; teaching and learning in different pedagogical institutions: Kindergarten, elementary school, university. Yiftah Goldman, Urban Kibbutz Tamuz’s Member, holds a PhD in Philosophy from the Tel-Aviv University. He teaches social philosophy at the David Yellin Academic College of Education in Jerusalem, and is one of the leading theoreticians of Commu­nal Socialism in present-day Israel. He is the author of the books Socialism Between Politics And Utopia (Dvir, 2008); Rousseau: Progress As A Trap (Magnes, 2010); and The Kibbutz As Utopia (Modan, 2012). Ruth Kark, at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, has written and edited over twenty books and 150 articles on the history and historical geography of Palestine and Israel. Her research interests include the study of land use and land ownership in the Middle East and Palestine/Israel in the 19th and 20th centuries, urban and rural settlement processes, and the interaction of Western nations/civilizations with the Holy Land. She has published extensively on the American-Swedish religious commune in Jerusalem. Yossi Katz is a full professor at the Department of Geography, Bar-Ilan University, and the holder of the Chair for the Study of the History and Activities of the Jewish National Fund (KKL). His studies deal with settlement, political and legal aspects of land purchase and Jewish settlement in the Land of Israel in the new era, kibbutzim and communes, and the process of Hutterite settlement in North America and Jewish settlement in Canada. Yossi Katz has published numerous books and papers. Among his books: The Religious Kibbutz Movement in the Land of Israel, (1999); and Inside the Ark: The Hutterites in North America (with J.C Lehr). John Lehr is a Professor in the Geography Department at the University of Winnipeg. He is a historical geographer with research interests in the historical geography of ethnic and religious settlement in western Canada, particularly that of Mormons, Jews, Ukrainians and Hutterites.



list of contributorsxi

Graham Meltzer is an architect, academic and photographer who grew up in New Zealand but lived mostly in Australia. He has a deep and abiding passion for communal living, having lived two years on Kibbutz, eight years in Australia’s largest intentional community (Tuntable Falls, Nimbin) and, for the last five years, in the famous Findhorn community in Scotland where he teaches applied sustainability and works as a community architect. His academic research of the last twenty years has focused on cohousing, looking specifically at the nexus between social cohesion, empowerment and environmentalism. He has been an ICSA Board member for twelve years and is organizing the next ICSA conference to be held at Findhorn in 2013. Bill Metcalf is Research Methodologist at the Griffith Graduate Re­search School, Brisbane, Australia. He is a world expert on intentional communities, past president of the International Communal Studies Association, and is on the Editorial Board of refereed academic journals including Communal Societies and Queensland History Journal. He is the author of nine books, nineteen chapters in edited books, six articles in encyclopaedias, twenty-five refereed articles in academic journals, nineteen reviews in refereed journals, over fifty articles in magazines and newspapers, plus numerous conference papers, research reports, etc. Timothy Miller is a Professor of Religious Studies at the University of Kansas, USA. Among his books are The Quest for Utopia in TwentiethCentury America (1998), The 60s Communes (1999), and American Commu­ nes, 1860–1960: A Bibliography (1990). He has also edited two volumes: America’s Alternative Religions (1995) and When Prophets Die: The Post­ charismatic Fate of New Religious Movements (1991). His Encyclopedic Guide to American Intentional Communities is scheduled to appear in 2012. Yaacov Oved has been a member of Kibbutz Palmachim ever since its establishment in 1949. He is a professor emeritus in Tel Aviv University’s department of history, and a research fellow of Yad Tabenkin. Since 1980 he has engaged in research of communes throughout the world, and has published books and articles on this subject in Hebrew, English and Spanish. He was one of the founders of the International Communal Studies Association in 1985, and served as its Executive Director until 2004. Michal Palgi, a Professor of Organizational Sociology, is the Chair of the graduate program in Organizational Development and Consulting at the

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Emek Yezreel College in Israel and the head of the Institute for Research of the Kibbutz and the Cooperative Idea at the University of Haifa. She is the former president of the International Communal Studies Association. Her areas of research and activity are kibbutz society, organizational democracy, organizational change, gender based inequality, social jus­ tice   and community development on which topics she has published extensively. Donald E. Pitzer is Professor Emeritus of History and Director Emeritus of the Center for Communal Studies at the University of Southern Indiana, Evansville, Indiana. He graduated from Wittenberg University, holds master’s and PhD degrees from The Ohio State University, and has been a scholar-in-residence at the Project for Kibbutz Studies at Harvard. He is a founder and first president of the Communal Studies Association and International Communal Studies Association. He was executive director of the CSA from 1976 to 1993 and serves on the ICSA board. With nearby historic New Harmony, Indiana, as a research focus, he has taught, lectured, and published widely on the Harmonists, Owenites, and his theory of developmental communalism. He edited and contributed to the anthology America’s Communal Utopias (1997) and wrote New Harmony Then & Now (2011). Shulamit Reinharz, the Jacob Potofsky Professor of Sociology at Brandeis University and author of 12 books, spent 1979–80 as a participant observer on an Israeli kibbutz. The resulting volume is Observing the Observer: Understanding our Selves in Field Research (Oxford, 2011). In 1997 and 2001 she founded two research institutes at Brandeis: The Women’s Studies Research Center and the Hadassah-Brandeis Institute, which she directs today. Lyman Tower Sargent is Professor Emeritus of Political Science at the University of Missouri-St. Louis and has been a visiting professor at universities in England and New Zealand and a visiting member of the Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton, NJ. He was the founding editor of Utopian Studies and is the author among other books of Contemporary Political Ideologies: A Comparative Analysis (14th ed. 2009), British and American Utopian Literature, 1516–1985: An Annotated, Chronological Biblio­graphy (1988), and most recently Utopianism: A Very Short Intro­ duction and has published over a hundred articles, mostly on aspects of utopianism.



list of contributorsxiii

György Széll was born in 1941 in Budapest, Hungary. He is Professor Emeritus of Sociology, University of Osnabrück, F.R.G.; Member of the Executive Committee of the International Sociological Association (ISA) (1990–1994) and President of the ISA-Research Committee ‘Participation, Organisational Democracy & Self-Management’ (1987–1991). He has been a visiting professor at more than 60 universities in 30 countries, and has written over 300 scientific publications. Menachem Topel, member of Kibbutz Mefalsim in Israel, is a senior lecturer at the Ashkelon Academic College and at the Sapir Academic College, head of the Social Studies Department at Yad Tabenkin, the Institute for Research on the Kibbutz and member of the Board of ICSA (International Communal Studies Association). His latest publications in English are papers on the kibbutz elites and kibbutz transformations, and so are his books The New Managers: The Kibbutz Changes his Way and The Kibbutz on Paths Apart (with Eliezer Ben-Rafael) and The Kibbutz: Risks of Survival (Eliezer Ben-Rafael with Menachem Topel, Shlomo Getz and Arza Abrahami). Katherine Trebeck leads Oxfam’s Humankind Index, a measure of Scotland’s real prosperity developed through wide ranging community consultation. She manages Oxfam’s Whose Economy? Project which asks why, despite decades of economic growth, Scotland’s poverty has not been addressed and inequalities have deepened. Katherine has a PhD in political science and has experience of social audit, corporate community involvement, community efforts to shape the behavior of companies, economic regeneration and employment and criminal justice projects. Chris Warhurst is Professor of Work and Organisational Studies at the University of Sydney. His implicit interest in job quality started with research into the organization and disintegration of the kibbutz movement (Between Market, State and Kibbutz, Mansell, 1998). It carries through into his advisory work on employment for the OECD, Skills Australia and the UK and Scottish Governments and has become explicit in his latest co-edited book Are Bad Jobs Inevitable? (Palgrave, 2012) and in the coorganisation of an ESRC-funded seminar series ‘Making Bad Jobs.’

INTRODUCTION

A DIFFICULT QUESTION Eliezer Ben-Rafael, Yaacov Oved and Menachem Topel The communal idea is many centuries old and cuts across societies and civilizations. It is also present in our contemporary era. However, it has never been a banner for more than a few. Moreover, across the world we are currently witnessing acute self-questioning amongst supporters and far-reaching changes that are taking place in communal movements. Against this backdrop, the questions that arise are numerous, but the most important is – does the communal idea still have some message to convey to society? The issues underlying this question become acute in a world where alternative options to capitalism seem outdated by the setbacks of socialism, while even the most disastrous economic crises of the capitalist project fail to awaken collectivistic or commune-friendly aspirations among those raising the banner of social justice. Yet, it is also often the case that communal structures are reluctant to detach themselves completely from the idea of communal life and, in many instances, retain some of its ideological or cultural premises. Many new types of communal, or semi-communal, life are emerging in the form of educational urban communes, eco-villages, or housing associations exemplifying varying degrees of cooperation among members. It is against this contradictory backdrop that this volume presents a set of essays inspired by these versatile thoughts and experiences typical of our time. Of particular interest to us, when discussing ideas jointly with specific experiences, is what they may signal for the future of the communal idea at this time of rapid changes and metamorphoses. The communal idea, however, is not easier to define than the key concept of community from which it stems. It is generally agreed that a community is a group of people, larger than a household, interacting among themselves who refer to each other in terms of “us” and who share some norms and values (Chavis et al., 1986; Barzilai 2003). Though, today more than ever, communities may be widely dispersed. In the internet era, the concept of community no longer has geographical limitations, as people can share common interests, regardless of physical location.

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eliezer ben-rafael, yaacov oved and menachem topel

Yet, up to now, the early theoreticization of the notion by Ferdinand Tönnies at the turn of the twentieth century is still valid. By dichotomizing Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft (Tönnies 1988) and distinguishing community from association, he saw in the former a collective tied by cohesion and a “unity of will” contrasting by the business-like social relations characteristic of the latter. In the real world, Tönnies also suggested, no group was either completely Gemeinschaft or completely Gesellschaft. Which principle predominates would then delineate the two kinds of social unit. But in both types, and in each one according to its own forms and patterns, we should expect characteristic dynamic developments. The sense of social solidarity that particularly typifies the more Gemein­ schaft–like framework stands however in blunt opposition to the Gesell­ schaft-type as generator of social capital that constitutes the core of what is designated by the communal idea. This communal idea consists of the impetus to forward forms of sociality productive of social capital. This, in turn and in Robert D. Putnam’s (2000) phrasing, is what people are able and led to do by virtue of their collective commitment. This kind of resource may stem at diverse degrees from strongly knit communities, sport teams, work-groups, or loose frameworks like neighbourhoods which, as such, illustrate the diversity of concretizations of the communal idea. Sociologists of contemporary societies often deplore what they see as the decline of that aspect of social life. Putnam (2000) himself complains that American society is losing its capacity to encourage the formation of social capital. The same trend is discerned in other Western countries, expressing the loss of community. It is in this context that we have witnessed in recent years – and with mixed success – efforts by various actors to create meeting-points and frameworks aspiring to foster the spirit of community (see also McMillan and Chavis 1986). This issue belongs nowadays to the agenda of intellectuals and different approaches are proposed that share in common the preoccupation with the communal idea against the background of the poor quality of sociality observed in many circumstances. Communitarianism stands out here as a school of thought on its own right. It is articulated by the Responsive Communitarian Platform, written in 1993 by a group of activists and social scientists, headed by Amitai Etzioni, Mary Ann Glendon, William Galston, and Robert Putnam. The Communitarian Network which identifies with the contents of the platform was set up at the same time by Amitai Etzioni, with the aim of propagating the movement’s ideology and what it implies for as diverse issues as education, community management or policy in favour of the underprivileged (see the chapter by Etzioni in this volume).



introduction: a difficult question3

For liberal theorists like Simon Caney (2005), this trend offers no interesting criticisms of social reality and it does not meet either the sympathy of a philosopher of neo-liberalism like John Rawls (1999) who sees human beings as aggregating independent individuals. With them, the supporters of methodological individualism (Coleman 1988; Hedström 2005) are convinced that anything social starts from individual interests, and their approaches stand, of course, in stark opposition to the communal idea that values the collective space as a focus of individual commitment to no lesser extent than the influences of individuals on collective volitions. Another kind of criticism stems from among those who do take the notion of communal idea seriously but who focus on social structures and settings to no lesser extent than on attitudes and action objectives. In opposition to communitarianism, they may be grouped under the label of communalism. These approaches (see the chapters of Pitzer, Sargent and Meltzer in this volume) emphasize the translation of notions of justice and quality sociality in structures which offer alternatives to dominant models of society. Such efforts, however – and many an author is quite aware of that - may encounter difficulties that are not only inherent to the building of appropriate arrangements and the implant of welldefined behavioural orientations, but are also the outcome of tensions, nay even acute conflicts, among actors due to the pluralism of their perspectives. At the limit, a community may become its own antithesis, i.e. a chaotic space where competing ideologies confront each other, causing the dismantling of previous achievements. Building up a sense of community in “heroic” times may be easier than maintaining it over time in routine life. Diana L. Eck’s (2006) Harvard model of pluralism focuses on this issue of plurality and the perspective it offers apprehends the even­ tuality  of dissensions among actors bound by community. The basic assumption of the model is that plurality of cultures and motiva­tions for action is now a general rule throughout the world. Against this backdrop, pluralism as a way of life has ceased to mean just diversity. In her view, pluralism is primarily the energetic engagement of indi­ viduals  with diversity. As such, it belongs to, and depends on, human achievement. Diversity as such does not suppose positive relationships and is bound to occasion tensions. Pluralism, on the contrary, consists of the active seeking of understanding across lines of difference. Pluralism is not relativism nor does it require abandoning identities. It means retaining differences, not in isolation, but in relationship to one another.

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This model may apply to any setting experiencing plurality such as local neighbourhoods, suburbs or villages. It may apply to communities of culture where one finds different cliques, sub-cultures, and the like. Above all, it seems to us relevant to communities whose members live near each other and share responsibilities and resources. We may think here, as examples, of Amish villages, cohousing, communes, eco-villages, cooper­ atives, or kibbutzim. All these are moved by collective objectives that emphasize the individual’s accountability towards the community – and vice-versa. The deep structures of all these forms of social life are endemically given to a fundamental contradiction. As argued by Gad Barzilai (2003), and this applies to various endeavours reminded here, both liberalism and communitarianism participate in the formation of social patterns interacting with each other and with the political centre in a variety of ways. Liberalism legitimizes individual goals and investments; communitarianism is bound to the learning of social behaviours expressing tolerance, reciprocity and trust. Both sets of values motivate community development, that is, conscious efforts to bring about circumstances that are favourable to the concretization of both perspectives and aim at the simultaneous empowerment of individuals and groups. This duality of codes, however, is hardly balanced in today social reality. The predominance of liberalism tends to downgrade the importance as such of social endeavours while the major alternates to democratic and individualistic capitalism have collapsed in our own lifetime. More than ever, the universe of contents to which the notions of community, communitarianism and communalism belong seem to pertain to the domain of utopia outside real life. In this era, when one may say like the French “On a tout essayé”, (“One has tried everything”), we may ask how do some thinkers, intellectuals and scholars still sustain the viability of different models and a different culture. In a same breath one may ask, in more practical terms, what remains and still, sometimes, flourishes, of those social experiments that at given epochs and in some places, have abounded, but which, in the second decade of the twenty-first century often produce a sense of disillusion. These questions are not just academic these days. Ever since 2008, we are seeing something far more visible than the difficulties of communes, cooperatives or intentional communities: we see the formidable economic and social hardships of the world’s richest and most advanced societies. Up to now, we cannot contend that these difficulties have



introduction: a difficult question5

generated new aspirations in the direction of communal idea. Though, in present-day circumstances, one still cannot exclude some increase of interest in formulae of life that are different from the long-prevailing models that are now confronted with far-reaching difficulties. An interest that might, in actual fact, also bring the communal idea to redefine its amplitude and the diversity of its potential pluralism in order to become – both ideologically and pragmatically – a more welcoming ground for new people and ideas. These are the issues at the centre of this volume, which aspires to reflect the variety of present-day thinking and experiments that, in one way or another, relate to what we call in very comprehensive terms the commu­ nal idea. * * * This book’s first part focuses on theoretical issues. The first chapter by Amitai Etzioni presents a wide-scope perspective on the theoretical issues involved in this area of discussion. Amitai Etzioni outlines key elements for a communitarian theory. He lays out the importance of communities and other social institutions for grounding good societies. The chapter emphasizes persuasion over coercion in enforcing community norms, and the need to balance liberty and social order. These insights are then broadened to include a theory of international relations and to deal with supranational institutions. Community-building is viewed as a separate task which precedes institution-building. The global community that could then be anticipated should be established on the basis of a global consensus synthesizing Western values of liberty and autonomy, and Eastern values of social order and authority. The world, says Etzioni, is increasingly facing a diffusion of power and multi-polarity, if not non– polarity. Actors must now function in a leaderless reality marked by interconnectedness. One can draw two different conclusions from observing the development of power intersections these days: all superpowers will have to work more closely with existing and new potential allies, and let others take the lead on some fronts. They will have to rely more on international laws and international institutions to legitimize their action. Some combination of both kinds of policies may be required. Both point to more communitarianism in the sense of seeking to be a member in good standing of the evolving global community, more of a communitybuilder, as well as a beneficiary of the stronger transnational bonds and shared values.

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In the following, key issues are discussed by other prominent social scientists who provide a series of specific chapters which consider stateof-the-art understandings of major types of present-day communal endeavours and developments. Contributors are then expected to elaborate on how they envisage the future of the communal idea and practice in today’s world. Of interest to this discussion are the questions of the social, cultural, ideological and political prices that communal settings must pay in order to survive in their respective environments, and whether this spurs them to transform basic schemes at the cost, eventually, of sacrificing their “soul” on the way to material survival. For Donald E. Pitzer, the early twenty-first century is witnessing the ultimate stage of developmental communalism. Experiments from two waves of intentional communities in the second half of the twentieth century are helping to shape major features of today’s world culture. The first wave arose from the 1960s counterculture, which produced hippie communes, some of which went well beyond their popular image to make solid contributions to society. Together with Jesus communes and ashrams, they pioneered changes in diverse aspects of life and made commitments to values that helped move the world toward multiculturalism, gender equality, and interfaith dialogue. The second communal wave came in the 1980s and 1990s. It was generated by the desire for economical and neighbourly housing in an expensive and impersonal urban age, and by concern for the natural environment. All in all, communal societies have gone by many names depending on their time, place, and economic arrangements. All can be broadly defined as voluntary social units, whose members usually share an ideology, an economic union, and a lifestyle. The utopians among them hope that their dreams will come true worldwide, through human endeavour or divine intervention. Develop­ mental communalism thus sees communal living mostly as a means to an end rather than an end in itself, though it recognizes that many movements view the merits of living communally as essential to their organizations, lives, and relationships. Regardless of whether they practice their communalism as a means or an end, to remain vital movements must adjust to changing realities, even though dangers may jeopardize their existence – if they develop beyond their communal stage and lose their singularity, or if their form and practices as communes stagnate. As a whole, communal living and developmental communalism are still very much alive, and find expression in the fact that we are by nature cooperative and collective to no lesser extent than conflictual and competitive.



introduction: a difficult question7

Lyman Tower Sargent insists on the fact that intentional communities are a world-wide heterogeneous phenomenon. The earliest such communities known were established in India around 1500 bce. In the Western tradition, the Essenes established the Qumran community in the 2nd century bce. The subject of intentional communities is under-theorized since most studies focus on specific communities and because intentional communities require a complex, multi- and interdisciplinary approach. There are over twenty words or phrases that have been used to characterize intentional communities. It is Sargent’s position that intentional community is the best term because it specifies the fewest preconditions and has no political or other prescriptive content. The phenomenon must be a community, which admittedly is a deeply contested term that cannot be assumed but must be specified. In addition, people must have the intent to live together; they must have chosen to do so. Finally, some sort of vision must exist. One other thing that characterizes intentional communities: there must be some sort of community activity. This does not mean that the entire community must come together, although this happens in some communities. It simply means that a perceived community must from time to time function as an actualized community. There are clearly intentional communities of different sorts. We need different classifications to define the different types. We need to be aware of both differences and similarities, and our definitions and theories must be able to deal with both. Graham Meltzer, on the other hand, emphasizes that contemporary culture in almost every country is thoroughly infused with consumerist values. If it is not already too late, the transformation to a more sustainable, less consumerist culture has to happen soon. The quality of our human relationships is crucial if we are to salvage a life worth living. In this scenario, the ‘communal idea’ will become more important than ever before. This chapter takes a radical, but not unrealistic, view of the role that communalism might play in such a future. The link between social satisfaction and consumerism is considered, and cohousing is discussed as a contemporary expression of the communal idea which has the potential to inform and inspire a more sustainable direction for urban life in the Third Millennium. The possibility of an alternative grass-roots strategy for transforming the suburbs along eco-communalist lines has already been demonstrated. Over time, more and more people grasp the value of greater sharing and collaboration and join existing groups – removing perimeter fences and committing to community life. Each household is able to contribute a facility to be shared with the whole community.

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Over time, the community should be able to establish all the facilities, systems, and rich cultural life found in cohousing projects. The need for affordable and socially responsive housing is, and will increasingly become, a major factor in the development of sustainable urban communities. However, the provision of affordable (let alone socially and environ­ mentally appropriate) housing is beyond the capabilities of con­ven­tional institutions and processes. Growth and change are inevitable, and a vision of a better world is necessary for the first step in the journey can be taken with optimism. Let there be no doubt that the ‘communal idea’ will play a central role in its unfolding. Yftah Goldman goes further, and sees the communal idea in the context of socialism’s emergence and expansion, as well as the difficulties it encountered. Since it first appeared in the nineteenth century, socialism has had an ambivalent attitude towards the concept of ‘community’. Socialism inherited its universalism from the Enlightenment, and suspects any particular partial ‘happiness’ over the universal at the expense of loyalty to the general public. Furthermore, socialism is political, while community offers a field of apolitical activity. However, it might be answered that the universal belonging to humanity should, in order to be real, be a mediated belonging. Concrete communities and federations of concrete communities are mediating frameworks brokering between the individual and society. Hence, in a way, every socialist is a communitarian although not every communitarian is a socialist. Socialism assumes, then, that the concrete community is an essential component of ‘the good society’. Anarchists represented this approach. There were also other trends in socialism, for which the community was an essential component of liberation. Martin Buber is a prominent example of that communal socialism. In this context, the kibbutzim, and cooperative movements such as the federation of cooperatives in Mondragon come to mind. On the other hand, the term “community” was a central concept in sociology in the second half of the nineteenth century. Throughout the twentieth century, scientific interest in ‘community’ knew ups and downs. The communities themselves experienced no less a tumultuous life; they became extinct, were resurrected, and assumed new forms alongside the intensification of processes of industrialization, urbanization, democratization, and technological development in the Western world. However, even if community is not dead, the concept of ‘community’ is very vague, and a large number of different meanings have been attributed to it. And yet, the widespread use of the term “community”, as much as it points to the difficulty that the concept raises, also indicates the inability to dispose



introduction: a difficult question9

with it. Even if it is impossible to provide a sufficient definition for the concept of “community”, we can clarify the role of the community from a socialist point of view. Community is important, inasmuch as socialism is concerned, to the extent that it offers an alternative to the market economy, arena politics, and mass society. It is hard to think of a modern mode of production which is more inefficient and wasteful than the prevailing corporate capitalism. The new technologies in the field of manufacturing, and especially in the field of communications, create conditions that enable a participatory democracy that is likely to increase efficiency. Part Two of the book delves into the diversity of challenges that the communal idea has to face. Yaacov Oved reminds readers that communal phenomena were always tiny minorities with no lasting impact on the society. They were moved by religious beliefs, secular ideologies, and utopian visions. After World War II, communes and intentional communities appeared which were more open to international relations. The hippies gave a push to the commune movement, which spread from the US to Western Europe and farther afield. Though the number of hippy communes soon diminished, many remained. In Europe and Australia, radical political views were more marked among their members than those in the US. In 1972, the journal Communities began to appear and in the 1980s, several associations were founded bringing scholars and practitioners together. In the 1990s we witnessed the expansion of ‘intentional communities’, that were pragmatic and open to the public. A Fellowship for Intentional Community now became the umbrella organization for various types of communes, cooperatives, intentional communities, and recently eco-villages and co-housing projects as well. With a similar calling, a Global Ecological Network developed in most western countries. The number of listings in the umbrella organizations is now swelling, indicating growing interest in cooperation. The contribution of cohousing and eco-villages to this progress is the most important, while groups which practice income sharing are a distinct minority. The new communities are mostly secular and small, and aim to display to society living demonstrations of alternative models for social life. They emphasize a shared vision, but without a common economic structure. A major motivation for the newcomers was self-realization and the search for appropriate objectives. In this new reality, starting in the 1980s, changes have been constantly infiltrating into communes of all kinds, and have become integral elements of their nature. Modern communal societies no longer maintain the utopian vision holding that their way of life offers a panacea for all society’s ills. The renewed drive for communalism

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is a search of a safe haven for people who seek groups to which they can belong. György Széll discusses more specific issues. All traditional societies are actually based on communal ideas and their practices. In its modern form they are linked to the development of alternative forms of life-style, based on common values. The modern revolutions promoted first of all the liberation of individuals and the development of a ‘market society’. They brought so far a class division instead of a feudal social structure. Nevertheless, counter-movements started with, in the background, Tönnies’ (1988) and Durkheim’s (1950) theoretical discussions of community. One witnessed communal ideas, sometimes referring back to ideal­ istic utopias put into practice. The cooperative movements and the kibbutzim were outcomes of these movements. The federalist and anarchist movements developed in tandem with them, as well as the strengthening of local communities. We see today the communitarian movement in the background of the anonymity of modern societies. However, the young still find it difficult to accept that they must reinvent the world. To many, there is no alternative to capitalism. Yet, fortunately and unfortunately, history is not a linear process. At this point the trade unions – still the biggest democratic organizations in the world – have a special role to play in advancing democratic participation and control. Another issue in this context is the strengthening of the regional and local levels, i.e. the meso-level, as democratic participation is here more easily practiced. In any event, the future of humankind and with it democratic participation, seems to be replacing the Washington Consensus, i.e. democracy and the market. The future of democratic participation between the market (shareholder value) and organisational democracy (stakeholder democracy) is therefore open. Timothy Miller focuses on the significance of communal living. The world, he says, needs community. Especially in the Western world, egotism and selfishness have become paramount values while community seems relegated to the back-burner. In addition to environmental degradation, crime, poverty, and social injustice have become widespread. The causes are many. Ultimately, one prime element is the breakdown of social relations that requests more community and its construction of supportive human relationships. Some in the US and elsewhere are now using the word “communitarianism” to denote this pursuit of common values in opposition to the prevailing individualism. Community means living a good and helpful life, as well as enrolling to bring about social change, in concert with others. The number of people living in intentional



introduction: a difficult question11

communities is small, but communities provide models for another way of life. The world of community is a diverse one, but all examples provide evidence for community-mindedness. This appeal does not remain unnoticed: communities attract attention from the broader public as well. Communal living is not a mass movement, and one can cite many reasons for this state of affairs – from the basic selfishness prevalent in the ethos of the contemporary Western world to the demonization of communism by the Soviet regime. All these notwithstanding, more than a few communities do manage to persevere over long periods of time in various nations, and new ones come into existence, attesting to the ongoing strength of the human desire for cooperation. Despite the small numbers, some people remain convinced that the communal idea does indeed contribute to the quality of life. Shulamit Reinharz remarks here that sociologists have always been concerned about social cohesion. There are those who thought society pressed too hard on individuals, and others who believed that social ties were too loose. The sociologist with perhaps the strongest affiliation with communal living was Jane Addams who established Hull-House, where she and her fellow sociologists and social workers lived, and into which she invited the neighbourhood. The resulting phenomenon was a place where people lived communally while serving the local community. However, the late twentieth-century and the start of the twenty-first are characterized by the “individual search for community”. This is expressed in a whole range of forms of life that implement cooperation at varying degrees. One can even see Facebook in this light. The twenty-first century is likely to be characterized by communalism of various sorts, in constant tension with hyper-individualism characterized by decreasing family size and the unprecedented tendency for people to live in one-person households. Currently the Fellowship for Intentional Community keeps a roster of about 250 communes world-wide and if this information is accurate, it may represent an uptick in the attractiveness of communes in the future. No one can predict the future but an overview of the current status of communes, communal living, and the communal idea after the first decade of the twenty-first century leads the author to three conclusions. First, to succeed in attracting people, the word “commune” is best replaced by words without the connotations of 1960s hippies. Second, communes are emerging throughout the world, and they are being seen as important vehicles and temporary living arrangements in which people can explore their values. And third, though communal living with complete resource-sharing will likely remain a marginal activity,

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there are many aspects of contemporary life that have communal components. Chris Warhurst and Katherine Trebeck tackle a topic which, at first glance, does not belong to the field of the communal idea, namely, the area of the labour market and its stratification significance for society. Though, a closer look at the paper shows that one may speak here as well of an aspect that questions the responsibility of society regarding members and their individual capacity to positively contribute to the collective. The very assumption of the chapter is that humans’ participation in society through their work contribution is an issue that is linked to the quality of collective life. This attitude, to be sure, is by no means alien to the communal idea. The authors describe the gaps that characterize the American society between the few who “have” and the many who “have not”. Nearly everyone works but some jobs are “good” and others “bad”. From comparative statistics, one learns that the US are among the very few worst countries. The tragic aspect of this reality is that in many families both spouses are in the workforce but the two salaries added are not sufficient to draw the family out from poverty. The authors analyse these circumstances as a social problem and as social impoverishment. Solidarity and participation, they claim, are the only values relevant here in order to counterbalance the blind law of the market. Progressive scientists and politicians should enter the public space with ideas about why and how job quality can be improved, highlighting the collective significance of good jobs and how the collective interest requests upgrading jobs. Better jobs need to be championed as individual and collective empowerment. Hence, while this chapter does not deal with practical endeavours of the communal idea, it still points out to a direction where this idea should be a source of inspiration in the modelling of reality. Part Three considers the practical experiences of implementing the communal idea throughout the world. For Bill Metcalf, critics may argue that communal living could well have been relevant in earlier times when rural living was more common, when religious passion was more frequent and ardent, and when socialism, in its broadest range of guises, seemed to be the utopian answer to the woes of industrial society. He finds little or no evidence that such assumptions are true in Australia and New Zealand. Intentional communities in Australia started as groups led by mysticallyoriented leaders. They were founded by people vowing to share all property and to follow a divine leadership. New Zealand’s first commune was formed according to the same perspective. At Roots Assembly, members pooled all income and property worked together in a steam-powered



introduction: a difficult question13

sawmill on their farm, had their own church and school and, for a few years, prospered. While most of the early communal groups had religious motives, after 1880 communes with more secular motivations, such as socialism and ethnic/racial purity, started forming. The first of these was called La Cèa Venèssia, or New Italy, whose members spoke Italian in their church, school, businesses, and social venues. Literary-minded socialistanarchists also established Australia’s first urban commune in Melbourne while a similarly motivated urban commune formed in New Zealand. Twentieth-century communal experiments in Australia and New Zealand prior to 1960 had a range of motivations, mostly political, pragmatic and religious. Since the mid-1960s the intentional community movement in Australia and New Zealand has boomed. By far the most important motivation is environmentalism, but other experiments shared more social aspirations like closing the gap between Maoris and whites. Messianic communes, however, continue to be created. In both Australia and New Zealand, most intentional communities, formed in the twentyfirst century, match either the rural eco-village or the urban cohousing classifications. The motivating factors for both types include environmentalism, a social drive to live a community life and an economic need/ desire to live a more frugal life, and spiritual, or at least cultural, aspirations. It appears that the more globalised and interconnected we become, so we crave ever more for ‘real’ community. Menachem Topel speaks of experiences that took place in a completely different area of the globe – Latin America. Contemporary communes and cooperative settings are most often moved by utopian visions of equality and justice and confront the inhuman individualism prevailing in many modern capitalistic societies. Whether in secular or religious terms, these are endeavours which aspire to propose alternative courses for the development of society and new criteria for desirable goals. However, other sources of communal ideas exist that aspire to give shape to behaviours and organizational forms on the basis of values and principles anchored in pre-modern legacies. The intention is to retain or revive traditions which were transmitted from generation to generation. It concerns the adoption, not just of unspecified principles but of concrete behavioural norms and specific organizational patterns that flourished in the traditional past. From such perspectives, communities may see themselves constituent parts of society, but on a basis that ensures their distinctiveness and challenges the prevailing culture. For such communities, there is a surplus value to the patterns they have adopted, beyond the contribution to the quality of life and the creation of social capital.

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The major benefit is the upgrading of the community’s identity, the retention of self-esteem and self-respect, and correcting the social and societal shortcomings of modernity. This general assessment was found to be particularly pertinent in a series of projects launched in different Latin American countries among underprivileged communities. These projects achieved their objectives mainly because the cooperative structure duplicated traditional patterns and forms of democratic decision-making, using the terms conveyed by the groups’ legacies. Here too, like the communes and cooperatives which we know better from occidental societies, the groups’ culture was perceived as challenging the culture prevailing in society. Rami Degani and Ruth Kark tackle again a very different set of cases: Christian communities in Israel. From the beginning of the twentieth century various types of Jewish communes and cooperatives were established by the Zionist movement in the former British Palestine that found followers among some groups of Christians who moved to the Holy Land and wished to live communally. The first examples of these new attempts at Christian communal living consist of two very short-lived American colonies in Jaffa, and the long-lived American-Swedish Colony in Jerusalem – founded in the mid-nineteenth century. Of these, three were millenarian in their beliefs but only the Spaffords’ American colony practiced true communal ownership of property and celibacy. The Adams colony and Clorinda Minor’s activities in Jaffa were failures. Only the American-Swedish colony in Jerusalem had staying power. This was partly due to its charismatic leaders, overseas contacts and contributions, and the colony’s productivity. After fifty years – during the age of the third generation – the colony came to an end. The process of settlement by small Christian groups in Palestine/Israel continued, though, during the twentieth century. Most of them failed, but some initiatives to establish kibbutz-style or cooperative communes persist to this day. This chapter, based on primary sources of the communes, fieldwork and interviews, focuses on six of the new Christian and Messianic Jews’ settlements which evolved from the model of communal life of the first Christians. The chapter discusses each commune individually and then compares them, taking account of their origin, leaders’ initial vision and theology and their motivation, their past history, present demographic and economic condition, longevity of the commune, and the future long-term prospects for communes that still exist. In brief, the Christian and Messianic Jews communes studied can be categorized along a few clearly delineated parameters. In Bethel, property is communal, and it is run



introduction: a difficult question15

in an authoritative and enclosed mode. Nes Ammim is run communally, with partial ownership of common property. In Yad Hashmona the management is communal, and the production means are held communally while members have also private property. The Community of the Beatitudes in Emmaus is a closed community run communally and with common property. Ir Ovot, and Tel Gamliel were closed communities, run authoritatively, with common property. All communes subscribe to conservative evangelical theology with emphasis on eschatology, and a belief in the Biblical prophecies, and the literal meaning of the Old and New Testament. Most of them chose as an ideal the model of the early Christians and their ideology included a great love for Israel, and belief in the restoration of Israel, and the aspiration for Jews and Israelis to conduct a dialogue with other religions. They stress the Jewish sources of Christianity and identify with the sufferings of Israel. All the groups investigated had charismatic leaders, and most of them had an international background. The communes receive donations from abroad and often receive volunteers from abroad. The fragility of the communities is discernible: of the six communes discussed in detail in the chapter, two no longer exist. Two other communes are thriving, while the other struggle to survive. In many cases, it is the death of the leader that causes dislocation. Continuity of a core of second and third generations, and economic independence, seem to be central to the longevity of communes. Back to a better-known case, Yossi Katz and John Lehr delve into the development of the Hutterian Brethren who make up a ChristianAnabaptist commonwealth of communes that since the sixteenth century, in Moravia, adhere to a rigorous religious code. The communes are bound to the practice of full sharing, abstinence from private property, and strict equality. After 250 years of persecution on European soil, the Hutterites migrated to the USA in the 1870s. Because of their German identity, pacifism, and refusal to enrol in the military, they left for Canada during World War I but many of them returned later on. Today, they number about 45,000 souls living in 500 autonomous communes. Their major economic basis is agriculture – though some have set up factories. Their children attend regular state schools but receive an extra program of religious and German studies. A commune that reaches 120 members tends to split and to create a new one. The communes as a whole are organized into a wide network of mutual assistance and cooperation. They are far from constituting a monolithic whole – there are different branches as well as differences between more liberal versus more conservative settlements. The research reported in the chapter focuses on the

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activity of women as agents of change in conservative communes, where women’s inferior status is institutionalized by the religious code. It is shown that the growing openness of the commune to the outside world unavoidable in an era of globalization and the penetration of new communication technologies – has had a drastic influence on the roles, status, behaviours, and influence of women. It appears that Hutterite women are able to influence the evolution of the communes – despite undeniable difficulties. Women’s growing exposure to the external environment constitutes a significant factor in their aspirations to imprint their interests on the commune’s arrangements and social order, especially in areas that are of direct significance in their daily life. The chapter details here the strategies available to them in this perspective, such as creating forums for debates, and decision-making by women, or influencing their husbands’ positions on issues on the public agenda. All the above brings us to Part Four which concludes the book with the transformation of the present-day kibbutz. The kibbutz has probably been the most elaborated implementation in the last century of the communal idea. It has built itself under the guidance of rigorous ideology and has also undergone the most sweeping transformations through far-reaching and comprehensive debates. Hence, the kibbutz reality illustrates in their full meanings the possibilities of realization as well as the limits that the communal idea may experience. It also illustrates the depth of the dilemma between loyalty to the idea, and the goal of survival. Michal Palgi’s article analyzes the particular interrelationship between gender equality and the communal idea and its praxis. Blind points in this relationship are discussed, showing that if community culture and practices are not directed specifically at gender equality, equality does not occur as a by-product of a general affirmation of equality, but, on the contrary, it suffers and requires a series of corrective actions. The article also discusses the effect of the economy and modernity on the relationship between feminist ideas and communal living. In all this, the lessons of the kibbutz for the communal idea can be viewed as universal. It is in this perspective that Maria Fölling-Albers discusses the development of kibbutz education. Education, she says, was not the first concern of the pioneers. Collective education in the children’s homes and at school, the institutionalization of a relatively independent child and youth society, and education for work were therefore a means to an end – the children born in the kibbutz were to become ‘kibbutznikim’ who would preserve and continue the work of their fathers. Kibbutz education was initially



introduction: a difficult question17

interesting because it was really ‘different’ and alternative. At the same time, the mere existence of this new type of living led to a questioning of one’s own way of living. For the majority of members of the second and third generation, who were not involved in creating that ideologically shaped collective educational system, but were educated and raised in it, kibbutz education only gained acceptance when it was no longer so different, i.e. when it was not collectivistic any more. For them kibbutz education was not attractive, but education in the kibbutz was. The process of individualization and privatization in general, and the opening of the children’s homes – not only helped the kibbutzim as settlements in general, but also helped the children’s houses and schools to survive. Furthermore they have helped ensure that they are once again an attractive place for living, with respected educational institutions for the members as well as for outsiders. The kibbutzim thus became attractive again, when the ‘ideological kibbutz’ ceased to exist. If ideological conviction (or another conviction – such as religious) is no longer the driving force behind people choosing an alternative way of living, then better incentives must be offered to attract members. For many parents with young children the pleasant natural environment, as well as the current educational system could provide such reasons. Above all, the changes in kibbutz education not only helped the kibbutzim to survive, but also prepared them for the future by ensuring their importance in society. The final chapter by Eliezer Ben-Rafael offers a comprehensive image of how the kibbutz has retraced its paths, and the in-depth meanings of its transformations. For one hundred years, the kibbutz was an undisputed model of an agricultural and industrial collective that implemented sharing, equality, and direct democracy among its members. Since the mid1980s, however, the majority of the kibbutzim have undergone far-reaching changes that re-examine basic premises. Observers ask whether this means that the kibbutz has gone forever. The chapter confronts this question on the basis of references to recent sociological investigations. It indeed appears that renewal has helped out many kibbutzim from a sudden threat of economic and demographic catastrophe. As the analysis shows, this danger was avoided by abandoning patterns sanctified by decades of practice that were the very markers of kibbutz life. Yet we also note that the notion of “kibbutz” is still pertinent for describing that reality. At the same time, we also acknowledge that kibbutzim today represent a society at risk – not so much because of a threatening environment, but due to their dependence on themselves and their members. More than ever, the kibbutz experience is in the hands of its membership,

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and this singularizes both the uniqueness and the vulnerability of the kibbutz. One can easily find in these assessments a problématique that is significant for analyzing any reality inspired, influenced, and given shape by the communal idea. Finally, an epilogue draws the lesson, in the widest terms, from the endeavour presented and discussed in this volume.

PART ONE

REFLEXIONS AND THEORETICAL PERSPECTIVES

GENERAL THOUGHTS ABOUT THE COMMUNAL IDEA Amitai Etzioni  Communitarianism: Responsive vs. Authoritarian This chapter outlines key elements for a communitarian theory of international relations. It begins by laying out some key findings of communitarian scholarship, particularly the importance of communities and other social institutions to grounding good societies and the role of shared norms in grounding these institutions and then the preference for persuasion over coercion in enforcing and spreading the norms of the community; and the need to balance liberty and social order. The paper then applies these communitarian insights to outline a theory of international relations, as follows: (a) given the rise of new transnational problems and the inadequacy of both the Old System (states and the institutions they directly sponsor) and the emergent “global civil society” to deal with these problems, new supranational institutions are needed; (b) Shared norms, spread through moral dialogues, are necessary for building supranationality; (c) contrary to functionalists who assert that community-building will follow automatically from the creation of the institutions themselves, community building is a separate task, and one which must precede institution building (or, at least, must come simultaneously to it); (d) in contrast to those who have argued in the past for an “end of history” with the triumph of Western values, if a global community is to be established, the values that could form the basis of a global normative consensus must be a synthesis of western values of liberty and autonomy and eastern values of social order and authority; and (e) none of this is to suggest that power will not continue to play a role in international relations. The differences between liberals and communitarians have been so often laid out, reviewed and sharpened that there is no need to rehash these here (see De-Shalit 1992; Selznick 2002; Frazer, 1999; Mulhall and Swift 1992; Paul et al. 1996; Etzioni 1996, 2004). Less familiar, perhaps, is the distinction between Asian/authoritarian communitarianism and responsive communitarianism—a distinction that is crucial to understand the position here (Bell 2003, 2004). What follows, therefore,

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is both a brief review of some of the key findings of communitarian scholarship – such as the importance of communities and social institutions in a good society, and the role of shared norms in grounding these institutions—as well as a summary of key differences between responsive communitarianism and authoritarian communitarianism, such as the preference for persuasion over coercion in enforcing and spreading these norms and the balance between liberty and social order in a good society. Communitarianism is a social philosophy that maintains that societal formulations of the good are both needed and legitimate. Communi­ tarianism is often contrasted with classical liberalism, a philosophical position that holds each individual should formulate the good. Communi­ tarians examine the ways shared conceptions of the good (values) are formed, transmitted, enforced and justified. Hence their interest in communities (and moral dialogues within them), historically transmitted values and mores, and the societal units that transmit and enforce values such the family, schools, voluntary associations, social clubs and inde­ pendent churches. Some have argued that the very term “community” is so vague it cannot even be defined (Fowler 1991; Frazer 1999).In fact, community may be defined as a group of individuals that possesses the following two characteristics: a web of affect-laden relationships which often crisscross and reinforce one another (rather than merely one-on-one or chain-like individual relationships); and some commitment to a core of shared values, norms, and meanings, as well as a shared history and identity— in short, to a particularistic normative culture (see Etzioni 1996). These values become part of the self through internalization, and are modified by persuasion, religious or political indoctrination, leadership, and especially moral dialogues (explained below). Communitarians have noted that communities need to be bound socially and morally into more encompassing entities, if violent conflict among them is to be avoided. Society should not be viewed as composed of millions of individuals as liberal formulations propose, but as pluralism (of communities) within unity (the society). The existence of subcultures does not undermine societal unity as long as there is a core of shared values and institutions. Authoritarian communitarians argue that to maintain social harmony, individual rights and political liberties must be curtailed. Some seek to rely heavily on the state to maintain social order (for instance, leaders and champions of the regime in Singapore and Malaysia), and some



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on strong social bonds and moral culture (as Japan does). Authoritarian communitarians also hold that the West’s notion of liberty actually amounts to “anarchy”; that strong economic growth requires limiting freedoms; and that the West uses its idea of legal and political rights to chastise other cultures that have inherent values of their own. In sharp contrast, responsive communitarianism assumes that a good society is based on a balance between liberty and social order, and between particularistic (communal) and society-wide values and bonds. Responsive communitarians assume that societies have multiple and not wholly compatible needs. This is in contrast to philosophies built on one core principle, such as liberty for libertarianism or authority for authoritarian communitarians. This school stresses responsibilities people have for their families, kin, communities and societies, above and beyond the universal rights all individuals command, which is the focus of liberalism. Responsive communitarianism locates normativity neither exclusively in the community or service of the common good, nor exclusively in the rights-bearing individual. It rejects both the proposition that the relationship between rights and the common good should be worked out by granting the community (let alone the state) normative priority— a proposition advanced by authoritarian communitarians1—as well as the proposition that respect for individual and human rights alone commands the moral high ground, as many libertarians and a fair number of liberals have argued, implying that communal considerations ought to yield to rights when these two come into conflict. Instead, responsive communitarianism assumes that these are two irreducible sources of normativity—two pillars of a good society—and that neither of them is entitled a priori to the moral high ground.2 Unlike authoritarian communitarianism, responsive communitarianism does not assume that communities always and only promote the good, nor that communities are the final arbitrators of what counts as the

1 Lee Kuan Yew, the first and longest serving Prime Minister of Singapore (1959–1990) has been particularly outspoken in championing “Asian values” of authority and order over western concepts of liberty. For other treatments of East Asian communitarianism, see Bell 2000). 2 Responsive communitarianism—which has also been called responsive or political communitarianism—is used throughout this paper to remind the reader that the position followed here is much closer to civic republicanism or civic humanism than to East Asian or authoritarian communitarianism. Indeed some have even referred to this position as “communitarian liberalism.” For more discussion, see Selznick 2002.

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good.3 Communities can be oppressive, which occurs when they do not balance their concern with the common good with respect for rights, or when they are very thick, in the sense that all social relationships are absorbed into one community. Traditional villages, tribes, clans, and gangs are telling albeit extreme examples. Contemporary East Asian societies also tilt in this direction, although much less so. Japan, for instance, still tends to privilege the common good, and pays insufficient respect to the rights of women, minorities and the handicapped.4 In the next section, these key communitarian ideas—the importance of communities and social institutions, the role of norms in these institutions, the preference for persuasion and consensus building over coercion in spreading these norms, and the balance between liberty and social order—are used to outline a communitarian theory of international relations.  The Need for Supranationality There seems to be no definitive data to show that the number and importance of transnational problems have increased since WWII. Given the rapid increase of pressing transnational issues like environmental degradation, immigration, integration of financial markets, economic globalization, transnational mafias, and terrorists with global reach, the pre­ceding statement is at least quite plausible. Yet, there has been no significant change in the institutions that form policies to deal with these problems. Most transnational problems are still tackled by the Old System—by national governments and the international organizations managed by their representatives and funded by their allotments. But, in most cases, this Old System has proven inadequate to face these problems. The Old System is cumbersome. It cannot handle a high volume of significant activities because decision makers must consult with their respective governments on most matters before they proceed, or are instructed in great detail ahead of time, which limits their maneuverability. When it comes to global or even semi-global policies, decisions 3 This paper differs on this point from Michael Walzer, who argued that a “given society is just if its substantive life is lived…in a way faithful to the shared understandings of the members.” See: Walzer 1983, p. 313. For a comprehensive critique of Walzer on this point, see: Etzioni 1996. 4 Japan is cited rather than China or Singapore because reference is to community, rather than state. Those societies that privilege the state are authoritarian or totalitarian, not communitarian.



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are often very hard to reach with so many different nations with divergent interests and values involved. Although some matters are worked out, progress is slow compared to the pace of the increase in new problems. This produces a growing accumulation of transnational problems that the Old System is unable to cope with. And, it is much more common for nations to agree on declarations than to actually implement them. The UN passes numerous resolutions but many of these are ignored. One example of the managerial failure of the Old System has to do with one of the most serious threats facing the world today—the proliferation of nuclear weapons. Every five years, the signatories to the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) meet for two weeks to review the treaty and make changes. The issue has amassed considerable urgency in recent years, the actions of Iran, North Korea, India and others amount to a need to badly revise and revamp the treaty. Yet, in 2005, in two weeks, the representatives of the national governments that are signatories could not agree to an agenda and so the treaty went unamended; another failure of the Old System to deal with the crucial problems of today’s world. But, the failure of the Old System is not just managerial. It is also a failure of consensus building; a failure to amass and wield the normative power necessary to back the needed actions. As the genocide was continueing unabated in Darfur, the UN sat on its hands, unable to launch any meaningful action or intervention because the various states could not agree on what to do and how to do it. On the Security Council, as is all too familiar, the veto has been used numerous times to prevent needed actions. The same holds for an increasingly belligerent Iran. The Old System’s inability to build a consensus among nations that there is a need for action in these and other matters is a clear indication that new institutions are needed to deal with these new transnational problems. Global problems require global solutions. The failure of the old system points to a need for global institutions that would be capable of handling the new problems of the 21st century. Communitarianism here provides insight into how such global institutions are best constructed, and what qualities they must have in order to be successful on both managerial and consensus-building fronts. Communitarianism suggests that the key quality that these institutions must possess in order to succeed, and the concept which forms the backbone of the communitarian theory of international relations outlined here, is supranationality. The term ‘supranationality’ is used here to characterize a political body that has acquired some of the attributes usually associated with a nation,

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such as political loyalty and decision-making power—based not on an aggregate of national decisions or those made by representatives of the member states, but rather on those made by the supranational bodies themselves. It is useful to think about supranationality as a composite of several elements. One such supranational element is decision making carried out by a transnational governing body that is not composed of national representatives—a body that follows its own rules, policies, and value rather than being “instructed” by national governments. For an institution to qualify as supranational, its decisions must concern significant matters, as all international organizations can make some minor decisions on their own but most must fall within the boundaries and limits of governments represented. The much greater capacity to make decisions on their own terms allows supranational bodies to move with much greater agility and speed than international organizations. Another element of supranationality is that the nations that compose these entities, as well as their citizens and member units, including corporations and labor unions, are expected to follow the rulings of these supranational bodies without requiring separate decisions from their respective national governments. In addition, supranational bodies tend to have some kind of effective enforcement capacity of their own, such as the ability to directly fine corporate bodies and individuals within the member states or to order them to desist from some action rather than to fine the national governments or to ask governments to rein in corporate bodies in their respective state. To put it differently, supranationality presumes some surrender of sovereignty by the member nations. As was mentioned in the first section, responsive communitarianism suggests that institutions are stronger if they are based on consensus and norms rather than on coercion. International relations supplies additional evidence for this claim. Coerced states, such as USSR and Yugoslavia, fall apart and are subject to civil war and secessions. Only if a community is formed do states persist. The EU is by far the most advanced attempt to combine elements of the Old System with a growing supranational form of government. Even this regional supranationality runs into many difficulties so that, looking beyond the EU to the global level, most people consider supranationality to be so hard to achieve, that it is not even worth considering. Much less extensive endeavors include the formation of the ICC, parts of the WTO, and INCANN. A different hypothesis that has been raised is that the acknowledged need for global solutions to global problems can be addressed through a



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growing reliance on transnational non-governmental bodies or on cooperation among specialized national governmental agencies, for instance, those dealing with environmental protection (Slaughter 2004). The term “global civil society” sometimes is used to refer to the evolving social fabric that these bodies engender. This Global Civil society is a step but strong evidence suggests that such organizations are inadequate on their own to handle the challenges of today’s world (Etzioni 2004).  Transnational Norms and Moral Dialogues Supranational community building requires shared norms and values. (Norms are considered specifications of values.) The ways norms are formed in communities is far from agreed upon. Rational choice attributes the development to efficiency. Fukuyama starts his account of how norms are generated with a story about “slugs.” Slugs are people who line up each morning on a street corner of a Washington, DC suburb in order to be picked up by cars on their way to the city. This extensive car pool system exists so that cars can qualify to travel in HOV lanes. Slugs and their hosts have developed extensive norms which, Fukuyama emphasizes again and again, are spontaneous and efficient (and in this sense rational). For instance, there are norms not to smoke or exchange money, to refrain from discussing sex, religion and politics, and not to jump the line (Fukuyama 1999, p.144). Fukuyama expects that norms can be created in a similar efficient, rational manner on a much larger, indeed societal scale. Another widely shared answer to the question of how judgments about normative issues are formed is provided by the students of “deliberative democracy.” These authors point to “reasoned deliberations” as the key way in which citizens of a democracy come to change their judgments, and emphasize ‘cool’ and rational processes while minimizing the role played by emotions and other such ‘hot’ factors. (It should be noted that some of these authors do not hold that such deliberations actually occur, but merely that these are the kind of deliberations a democracy should aspire to hold.) The evidence strongly suggests that such ‘cool,’ rational deliberations are almost impossible to achieve or even to approximate under most circumstances. The examination of actual processes of decision making, especially when they concern normative matters (e.g. what is legitimate), shows that they proceed by different means than those depicted by

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the champions of deliberative democracy. Deliberative democracy is the “wrong” model for determining how shared norms are formed and spread in communities. Instead, as communitarian scholarship has shown, individual preferences and judgments are largely shaped through interactive communications about values, through “moral dialogues” that combine passion with normative arguments and rely on non-rational processes of persuasion, education, and leadership (Etzioni 1996). This is not to suggest that in dialogues about which policies are legitimate, information and reason ought to play no role, but merely that they play a much smaller role than is often asserted. This is so both because they are much weaker tools than believed and because a much greater role is played by another factor: the direct appeal to values. Moral dialogues often have no clear opening point or closing event. They are prolonged, heated and seemingly meandering. However, they often lead to new or reformulated shared normative understandings (cases in point follow). Even very large and complex societies do engage in moral dialogues that lead to changes in that which is considered legitimate. These dialogues take place by linking millions of local conversations (between couples, in neighborhood bars, in coffee- or teahouses, around water coolers at work) into society-wide networks and shared public focal points. They take place during regional and national meetings of many thousands of voluntary associations in which local representatives dialogue; in state, regional, and national party caucuses; in state assemblies and in Congress; and increasingly via electronic links (such as groups that meet on the Internet). Focal points of these dialogues are national call-in shows, debates on network television, and nationally circulated newspapers and magazines. Society-wide moral dialogues are often fostered, accelerated, and affected by public events such as hearings (e.g., the Clarence Thomas/ Anita Hill case focused discussion sexual harassment), trials (e.g., the 1925 Scopes trial challenged the normative standing of evolution), and demonstrations (e.g., those which highlighted the normative case against the war in Vietnam).  Functionalism vs. Community Building—Two Legs Given that supranational institutions are needed, the next question that must be addressed is how to best build such institutions. There are at least two main alternative hypotheses concerning the ways these may be



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constructed. One is known as functionalism; the other might be referred to as supranational community building (as distinct from nation building). Again, communitarian scholarship points toward a likely answer. Functionalism proposes that as new centers of decision making are formed, various interest groups and voters will shift their attention and more generally politicking to the new arena, gradually forming a new layer of statehood.5 To what extent this hypothesis has been validated or falsified is now far from settled. Instead, a communitarian theory of international relations argues that community building is needed if supranationality is to significantly expand. By community building, I mean that the new entity, for instance the EU, will acquire many of the features of the national state, which is commonly defined as a community invested in a state. These features include a sense of identification with the collectivity, a sense of loyalty to its institutions and projects that take precedent over conflicting ones, a shared sense of fate and future, and above all, a measure of significant consensus building. Communities need their members to be willing to make sacrifices for the common good, and the willingness to make such sacrifices is based on a strong sense of community. That is, sacrifices for the shared good both build on and further build community. Thus, in the United States, few complain that southern states contribute less to federal revenues while gaining a disproportional share of federal outlays. After reunification, Germany’s western states contributed very large amounts to the “new lands,” the eastern states. However, if the beneficiaries are not considered parts of one’s community, there is a much lower tolerance for such reallocations and wealth transfers. In contrast, the majority of the EU citizens seem not ready to make such sacrifices on a growing scale. Therefore, here, supranationality has to be delayed until community commitments are enhanced. While functionalists do not see the need for community building, community builders can readily hold that as community building proceeds, transferring functions (decision power, control, management) to the new collectivity will also help in developing the new collectivity. Walking on both legs seems a plausible hypothesis in the sense that as community building progresses, some functionalism can proceed, which in turn may favor more community building. However without 5 See Haas 1958; McGowan 2007; Moravcsik 2005, 349–386; Nye 1971; Schmitter 1969, 297–317; 2005, 255–272.

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community building, the hypothesis suggests, functionalism cannot carry the load. To summarize, the proliferation of new global problems, and the inadequacy of existing institutions to deal with these, point to a need for new supranational institutions, which, in turn require shared moral values that are spread through moral dialogues. These institutions can only arise through a process of community building, not the other way around, as functionalists suggest.  A Nascent Global Community: An East-West Normative Synthesis? Is there an emerging transnational normative consensus not just regarding select shared norms (say in favor of protecting the environment and against the spread of nuclear weapons - Tannenwald 2007) but also some preliminary sense of the nature of the underlying values around which the very inchoate global community could be formed? One view, which was particularly popular in the West after the collapse of communism, in the early 1990s, was the idea that the world normative system will be built around Western ideals cornering respect for individual rights and democratic regimes. It seemed at the time, at least to some very popular observers, especially Francis Fukuyama, that the whole world was trending toward embracing these values. Others depicted all those who held other values as irrational, impassioned if not dangerous, positions that became known as the “clash of civilizations.” (Huntington 1996). More recently, it has become more evident that non-Western societies are not about to give up their core values and “Westernize.” The importance of social order, authority and religious values play a key role in many East Asian and Muslim societies. Other societies, that seemed to move to embrace human rights and democracy, have been moving back to stress other values, for instance nationalism in Russia, and a sort of state-run social market in several Latin American nations. At the same time, there has been some recognition in the West that the East (which varies even more than the West) has values of its own and some moderate version of these might well deserve to be combined with the Western ones. In its starkest form, the Western “end of history” thesis did not recognize core values other than those that are centered around



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the dignity of the individual. Rights were viewed as protecting the individual from the state, and liberty as the normative corner stone of the good society. This monotheistic position held also for favoring democracy as the regime that serves to ensure that those who govern will heed the voice of the people. Its economic parallel was the free market, not a social market. Reaganism and Thatcherism are often viewed as the highpoint of this normative position, supplemented by the Western triumphalism as the Cold War ended, and nations from all over the world seemed to move in the Western direction. As was alluded to briefly in the first section of this paper, responsive communitarians have pointed out that individualism can become excessive, because it can cause people to lose their social mooring, shred the social fabric on which informal social controls rely, which play a key role in keeping society civil.6 Moreover, the destruction of respect for any sort of authority and of rules undermined the social order (Ehrenhalt 1996). (And they pointed, although less clearly, to the importance of spiritual or religious values and the emptiness of materialism.) Hence these responsive communitarians called for a carefully crafted balance between autonomy and social order, between individual rights and social responsibilities (Etzioni 1998, xxv xxxix). That is, they recognized the value of a moderate version of values championed by the East. At the same time, the East developed more moderate forms of its core values. China moved from a communist totalitarian regime to one that allows a higher measure of pluralism and reduces the collective demands on individuals and is less strenuous in enforcing authority. Singapore is trending the same direction. In Japan, where social (rather than state) controls were particularly strong, these controls are weakening, allowing for a somewhat higher measure of group and individual diversity. In short, there is some evidence that East and West are moving closer to a normative common ground. The place of the Islamic world in this synthesis requires a separate treatment (Etzioni 2007, section III).

6 Mountains of data, recently reviewed and augmented by Robert Putnam and Francis Fukuyama, and long before them by Robert Bellah and his associates and scores upon scores of other sociologists beginning with Ferdinand Tonnies, Emile Durkheim, and Martin Buber (among others), show that when communities are thin or absent, society suffers. See, e.g., “Health and Happiness,” in Putnam 2000, 326–35; Fukuyama 1999; Bellah et al. 1985; Tonnies 1957; 1955. Durkheim 1961; Buber 1970; 1958.

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amitai etzioni  The Future of Power and Implications of the Theory for U.S. Foreign Policy

While the United States held a virtual monopoly of power at the end of WWII, and then was a major force in a bi-polar world, it increasingly faces a world marked by a diffusion of power, and what others have referred to as a “multi-polar” or even a “non–polar” world. The United States must now function in a world also marked by high and increasing levels of “interconnectedness,” and where no one is entitled to leadership; it must be earned. To put it differently, because power is sectoral, the decline of American supremacy is uneven but fairly comprehensive. In some areas, nuclear capabilities, for instance, U.S. capabilities remain unmatched. Yet for most exercises of power, nuclear weapons are not useful. Similarly, U.S. conventional forces remain the best and strongest in the world, but their relative strength is not as obvious as it was at the end of WWII, especially in dealing with so called non-state actors. U.S. economic and ideological powers are relatively diminished, and there is no reason to expect these trends to reverse. On the contrary, as China’s and, arguably, the EU’s, economic power increases, as other nations accrue more economic and military power, and as non-state actors continue to threaten and wage asymmetric warfare, the trend is likely to unfold further. One can draw two different conclusions from this observation for the kind of foreign policy that the U.S. should pursue. One: the U.S. will have to work more closely with existing and new potential allies and let others take the lead on some fronts. Two: it will have to rely more on international laws and international institutions such as the UN, the IMF, WTO, and even the International Criminal Court (ICC). Some combination of both kinds of policies may be required. Both point to a United States that is more communitarian in the sense of seeking to be a member in good standing of the evolving global community, more of a community builder, as well as a beneficiary of the stronger transnational bonds and shared values.

DEVELOPMENTAL COMMUNALISM INTO THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY Donald E. Pitzer  Introduction The early twenty-first century is witnessing an ultimate stage of devel­ opmental communalism—a time when progressive ideas, ideals, and innovations from the small, voluntary communal social laboratories of a preceding era become integrated into the general society. The nineteenth century experiments in universal education, democratic governance, and equal rights attempted communally by utopians like the Owenites, Fourierists, and Icarians helped realize these reforms in the twentieth century. Today, it is increasingly apparent that experiments from two waves of intentional communities in the second half of the twentieth century are helping to shape major features of world culture in the twentyfirst century. The first wave arose from the counterculture and other reform movements of the 1960s. It produced youth and hippie communes, some of which went well beyond their popular image of sex, drugs, and rock and roll to make solid contributions to society. Together with Jesus communes and ashrams, they pioneered changes in eating habits and health care and made commitments to tolerance and spirituality, equality and justice, peace and love that have helped move the world toward multiculturalism, gender equality, interfaith dialogue, and peace initiatives. The second communal wave came in the 1980s and 1990s. It was produced by the desire for economical and neighborly housing in the expensive and impersonal urban age and from concern for the natural environment because of global warming and the need for alternative sources of energy as fossil fuels inevitably are exhausted. Cohousing projects began offering a communal housing solution for people from the general public and college students to retirees and the elderly. Ecovillages arose to employ and demonstrate eco-responsible communities and new forms of energy. These communal efforts are helping to make friendly and safe neighborhoods, sustainable lifestyles, green technology, and alternative energy systems the norm in our time. The theory of developmental communalism was proposed in the 1980s from my study and on-site observation of the process by which reform

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movements often adopt the communal method of social organization in an early stage for security, solidarity, and survival.1 Developmental communalism considers communal living a generic social mechanism available to all peoples, governments, and movements. But it focuses mainly on social, religious, and political movements, the communal societies they found, and the process through which they and their communities develop, adjust, and endure or disappear. Communal societies have gone by many names depending on their time, place, and economic arrangements—from ashrams, monasteries, convents, and kibbutzim to communes, cooperatives, collectives, intentional communities, cohousing, and ecovillages. All can be broadly defined as small, voluntary social units partly isolated and insolated from the general society.2 Their members usually share an ideology, an economic union, and a lifestyle. Most attempt to create living models of their ideal social, economic, governmental, religious, philosophical, ecological, and sustainable systems. The utopians among them hope that their dreams will come true worldwide by human endeavor or divine intervention.3 Thus, developmental communalism sees communal living mostly as a means to an end rather than an end in itself, although it recognizes that 1 On developmental communalism, see Donald Pitzer, “Developmental Communalism: Beyond Success and Failure,” unpublished paper given at the Popular Culture Association/ American Culture Association meeting, Atlanta, Georgia, April 6, 1986. All papers and publications cited here are in the Communal Studies Collection, Special Collections Department, Rice Library, University of Southern Indiana, Evansville, Indiana. Donald Pitzer, “Developmental Communalism: An Alternative Approach to Communal Studies,” in Utopian Thought and Communal Experience, eds. Dennis Hardy and Lorna Davidson (Middlesex, England: Middlesex Polytechnic, 1989), 68–76; reprinted in The Guide to Communal Living: Diggers and Dreamers (Redfield Community, Winslow, Buckinghamshire, England: Communes Network, 1993/1994), 85–92. Pitzer 1997. Donald Pitzer, “New Harmony’s Harmonists and Owenites: Two Approaches to Utopia and Developmental Communalism,” unpublished paper given at the Communal Studies Association/Inter­ national Communal Studies Association meeting in New Harmony, Indiana, October 14, 1993. Donald Pitzer, “Developmental Communalism: The Double-Jeopardy Threat to Communal Longevity,” unpublished paper given at the International Communal Studies Association meeting in Efal, Israel, May 30, 1995. Pitzer 2009. 2 For a discussion of various definitions see Miller 2010. 3 The developmental communalism approach to communal studies has become a basis for further promising theorizing about the global social phenomenon of communal living. Anthropology professor Joshua Lockyer recently put forward “transformative utopianism” as an extended view. Lockyer’s work explores evidence of how the utopian ideas and practices of communities of one time are adopted and adapted by communities of the next. See Lockyer 2009). Dialogue in this and other enlightening directions are welcomed by communal scholars and communitarians alike. More attention also needs to be given to gathering additional direct empirical evidence of the actual influence of communal societies on the larger society past and present.



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many movements view the merits of living communally as essential to their organizations, lives, and relationships, or even the principle focus of their existence. Regardless of whether they practice their communalism as a means or an end, the theory suggests that to remain vital movements must adjust their communal method of organization and often other early practices to meet changing realities and reach old and new objectives. This may include developing beyond a communal stage altogether. First century Jewish Christians in Jerusalem saw the practices not only of their community of goods, but also circumcision and blood sacrifice, abandoned or spiritualized in order for the movement to expand into the Gentile world. Developmental communalism also finds that movements’ communal societies face a disturbing “double-jeopardy threat” to their longevity— whether or not the founding movements adjust their practices and organizational structure. Movements flexible enough may develop beyond their communal stage, a stage that involves the complex difficulties and disciplines required to build and maintain entire communities. In that case, the movement may thrive but lose its communes like the Owenites of Robert Owen. On the other hand, movements may fossilize in their communal form and practices. In this case, they often kill the movement itself as well as its communes like the celibate Harmony Society of George Rapp. Communal societies that defy the double-jeopardy threat to endure, even flourish, over extended periods of time usually evidence recognizable characteristics. Like the Shakers, they may require members to commit to the beliefs and disciplines of a religious or spiritual ideology. If celibate, like Catholic orders, the group must acquire new members from the outside society, often the children of adherents to their larger religious faith. Or, like the Hutterites, they may encourage members themselves to have large families. Some movements that employ communal societies to reach an objective other than living communally for its own sake find their communes extraneous once they have reached that goal. This may come in an ultimate stage of developmental communalism when the outside world has adopted enough of the reform characteristics of the movement’s communal utopias to make their separate existence seem unnecessary. Or it may come when the founding movement achieves a single prime objective. As the Zionist Movement reached its goal of an independent Jewish state when Israel was established on May 14, 1948, the kibbutzim, Jewish settlements Zionists had supported in Palestine for decades, fell into jeopardy. That they have endured for more than

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six decades since that date is testimony to the kibbutzniks’ commitment to their socialistic ideals and communitarian lifestyle with and without government assistance and despite economic downturns.  Developmental Communalism: Contributions of the 20th Century Counterculture Movement Integrate into 21st Century World Culture Perhaps at no time in history before the 1960s had such an array of reform movements and earth-shaking events converged to induce the formation of communes, both to escape the ills of the world and to build model utopias. Frustration with the Vietnam War prompted young people to insist: “Make love not war.” Racial, gender, age prejudice, and injustice produced countering movements for civil rights, feminism, and egalitarianism. Before being shot down in 1968, Martin Luther King Jr. dreamed of creating “the beloved community” of racial equality. Feminist Gloria Steinem co-founded Ms. Magazine. Lesbians, as well as gay men, were emboldened to found exclusive intentional communities. As the world careened toward a seemingly inevitable atomic Armageddon during the Cold War, the Jesus Movement offered the hope of the millennium, the imminent second coming of Christ which would usher in a utopian kingdom of God on earth. The Shiloh Youth Revival movement that originated in Eugene, Oregon in 1969 set up dozens of communal centers for “Jesus freaks” in cities across America. Young idealists formed a network of North American communal groups called The Federation of Egalitarian Communities that still promotes equality around the globe. John Lennon penned the radical lyrics for his song “Imagine” that became the utopian theme song for the secular youth movement. Tom Hayden stirred the blood of activist protesters in his Students for a Democratic Society to fight for campus rights, agitate for a volunteer army, and demand votes for eighteen-year-olds. While the birth control pill created a revolution of sexual freedom, marijuana and LSD guru Timothy Leary called on would-be utopians to “tune in, turn on, drop out.” The age-old communal method of immediate escape and reform by creating small, partly isolated communities stood ready for an unexpected but massive revival that took not only the general public but communal scholars by surprise. Timothy Miller, the leading scholar of the communes of the 1960s and 1970s, discovered that hundreds of thousands of young people responded almost instinctively to the challenges of their time by



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creating tens of thousands of youth, hippy, Jesus and other communes (Miller 1999, p. 237). They were members of a rising youth class of the best educated generation in history. Miller noted: American communal history turned a major corner on May 3, 1965, when three persons recently out of college purchased six acres of scraggly goat pasture outside Trinidad, Colorado, and proclaimed the establishment of Drop City. Drop City brought together most of the themes that had been developing in other recent communities—anarchy, pacifism, sexual freedom, rural isolation, interest in drugs, art—and wrapped them flam­ boyantly  into a commune not quite like any that had gone before (ibid, pp. 31–32).

Inspired by a lecture of Buckminster Fuller on his revolutionary “geodesic domes,” the Droppers led the way into the architecture of the new age by building colorful dome dwellings from junk car hoods. When they sent him dome pictures, Bucky proclaimed Drop City the winner of his 1966 Dymaxion Award for “poetically economic architecture” and sent them a check for five hundred dollars (ibid, pp. 33–35). Now Bucky’s domes are seen everywhere, gracing EPCOT at Disney World and protecting people at the South Pole. The Beatles’s George Harrison espoused the transcendental meditation panacea of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi who set up his ideal communal settlement at Fairfield, Iowa. Ashrams of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISHCON) offered the Asian spirituality of the Hare Krishna movement to countries of the western world. American-born Ma Jaya Sati Bhagavati established the interfaith Kashi Ashram at Sebastian, Florida to care for HIV/AIDS victims and to promote peace and healing worldwide. In 1971, San Francisco State College faculty member and spiritual teacher Stephen Gaskin led hundreds of his hippy students and disciples in school buses to settle The Farm community near Summertown, Tennessee. There they became famous for their humanitarian charity projects, midwifery program, ecovillage training center, and vegetarian and peace initiatives. Others joined communal houses and farms of the radical Catholic Worker movement to assist the poor, resist war, and call for social justice. Young spiritual zealots also spun off innovative communes from established Protestant denominations like the pacifistic Mennonite Reba Place Fellowship in Evanston, Illinois. This unexpected sunburst of intentional communities totally eclipsed previous communal societies in numbers of groups and adherents, especially if we add in the second communal wave of cohousing projects and ecovillages that were founded in the later twentieth century.

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It is increasingly clear that pioneering concepts and practices from this explosion of communal social laboratories have been integrated into world culture. A developmental process has occurred in which the truly valid innovations from the counterculture and its communes have been adopted by the larger society. This is what marks the early twenty-first century unmistakably as the age of an ultimate stage of developmental communalism. Evidence from Timothy Miller’s 60s Communes Project conducted from the University of Kansas is particularly revealing. From interviews with individuals who lived communally in that era, Miller found that many believe their way of life made a lasting impact on society (ibid, p. 238). These communal utopians were eating natural foods, practicing alternative medical treatments, and seeking the high ideals of peace and love. Miller found that one of the most obvious areas of communal influence is in eating habits. Whole and natural foods were hardly known in modern nations in 1960. Now natural food stores abound and supermarkets offer what was once the fare of hippies—yogurt, tofu, whole-grain bread, and high-fiber vegetables. The Puget Consumers Co-Op, founded by John Affolter at his intentional community near Seattle called the May Valley Cooperative, has developed into America’s largest consumer-owned natural food retail cooperative under the name PCC Natural Markets with 45,000 members. (http://www.pccnaturalmarkets.com/about, accessed March 21, 2012). The observations of Omni Mountainskyrainbow, a communitarian (not a part of Miller’s study) now living in the communal Mothership Sanctuary near Eugene, Oregon, are germane on eating habits and other influences that confirm and expand Miller’s examples. On natural foods, Omni comments: Examples of how communities led the way … include the whole ‘natural’ aesthetic. ‘Back to the land’ we went, to try organic farming. Now there is a massive network of og (organically grown) farms, farmers’ markets and og products. Even the Walmarts and Safeways are pretending to be green. Natural food is the ONLY growth sector of the food industry for the last 20 years. Even very unnatural products shout ‘green’ and ‘natural’ on their labels. Natural medicine now gets one of every two out of pocket dollars spent on health care in the US. Natural is how we all want to look, act, and feel. This theme pervades our whole culture now (Mountainskyrainbow 2011).4 4  Omni’s essay evolved from her interview with anthropologist and communal scholar Donald Janzen at her community, Mothership Sanctuary, Eugene, Oregon, November 4, 2010.



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Vedic City, Iowa, the town Maharishis Mahish Yogi incorporated in 2001, banned the use of synthetic pesticides and fertilizers in 2005, making it the first all-organic city in America. But well before this, the communal Shiloh Family, founded on Christian principles in 1942 in Sherman, New York, pioneered organic agriculture and the marketing of natural foods across the United States. A basic tenant of this community was a diet of unrefined foods grown in fertile soil without synthetic fertilizers. This philosophy was incorporated into their main industry, a bakery that produced organic breads and other baked products. As the demand for their bread increased nationwide, the community eventually produced over a million loaves a year. As explained by Donald Janzen who researched Shiloh Family history: One of the early problems that existed in the organic food industry was linking the producers with the customers. The public was demanding more organically grown foods while the organic farmers were reluctant to produce more without guaranteed markets. To resolve this problem, Shiloh purchased two semi-tractors (one refrigerated) and began hauling organic foods nationwide. Under their specifications, outside companies produced organic foods that were sold under the name Shiloh Farms. To insure their high standards, all food was tested in the Shiloh laboratory so it could be certified as organic. By 1967, the two Shiloh trucks were logging 9,000 miles a month shipping such products as fish from the North Atlantic, honey from Israel, maple syrup from Vermont, potatoes from Ohio, cheese from Wisconsin, and pinto beans from Colorado. As the demand for Shiloh Farms products increased, the community moved to Sulphur Springs, Arkansas to give them a more central shipping location. Eventually the community sold the name Shiloh Farms, and as the number of members decreased it closed the bakery. There is no doubt that Shiloh is among the pioneers to introduce organic foods to the general public and deserves some credit for the popularity it enjoys today.5

Taking advantage of that popularity, the town of Hardwick, Vermont literally resurrected itself during the last decade by turning to organic farming. Because of its emphasis on local food production, Hardwick now claims to have more organic farms per capita within ten miles of the town than anywhere else in the world. This has produced a thriving local grocery co-op, busy farmers’ market, and a restaurant where almost everything served either grew or grazed on nearby land (Charles 2011, accessed July 15). 5  “Shiloh Family Collection, Special Collections Department, David Rice Library, University of Southern Indiana, Evansville, Indiana, USA.”

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Health care is another example of the community movement’s influence cited by Timothy Miller. He points out that the public has largely embraced holistic health and the alternative therapies of chiropractic, naturopathy and aromatherapy. Ina May Gaskin, who has become widely known and respected as the innovative leader of the midwifery program at The Farm, told Miller that interest in home birth in the counterculture, and especially in its communes, has led to much more humane hospital birthing centers (Miller 1999, pp. 238, 315). It is not unusual now to experience a home-like atmosphere in hospitals for the birthing process. The People’s Free Clinic in Vermont grew out of a health collective that traveled from commune to commune (ibid, p. 238). Many young people joined communities of the Camphill movement that practices the spiritual anthroposophy of Rudolph Steiner and now assists people with mental illnesses and learning disabilities at more than one hundred sites around the world (Communities Directory 2010, p. 150–152). In 1971, Patch Adams and a group of twenty friends, including two other medical doctors, began the Gesundheit! Institute, a free hospital operating 24 hours a day seven days a week in a six-bedroom house in rural West Virginia. After the Robin Williams film “Patch Adams” appeared in 1998, Gesundheit! became famous. Using humor as a universal medium, Patch has lectured at medical and nursing schools in over sixty-five countries on five continents. Gesundheit! now draws more than 1300 people each year as health-care volunteers or to attend health care system design intensives and health justice gatherings. Its dream is to build a model forty-bed communal hospital with more than sixty beds for its staff and their families and to operate at ten percent of the expense of commercial hospitals. (Adams 2011, accessed August 7). More than a decade into the twenty-first century, health care can be counted as one of the reforms from 60s era communes that gained a foothold in the larger society but for which the ultimate developmental stage is far from complete. Free clinics and affordable health treatment are still desperately needed in both inner city and rural areas. Education is another area in which communal societies have anticipated later trends in the general society. Communal groups have been early adopters of progressive teaching methods, including those of Joseph Lancaster, Johann Pestalozzi, and Maria Montessori. At New Harmony, Indiana alone two communal groups in the early nineteenth century preceded state tax-supported public education by decades. The Harmonists of George Rapp educated both boys and girls in basic academic subjects, music, and the arts, and gave them an apprenticeship,



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while their parents had access to a library and museum. The children of Robert Owen’s community of equality attended America’s first infant school, Pestalozzian classes of learning by doing, and one of the first schools of industry for learning a trade. Teachers and natural scientists from Philadelphia, who came to New Harmony on a famous “boatload of knowledge,” taught children and adults alike in an atmosphere of free inquiry and open dialogue (Pitzer 1978). Communitarians who set up their own internal academic systems also fully understand the advantages of indoctrinating their children in their social, religious, and political values. In the 1960s, counterculture communal education appeared radical and inadequate and sometimes drew punitive action from the state. When Cold War fear of Communism led Johnny Bob Harrell to found a community near Louisville, Illinois in the early 60s. Removing the children on the Harrell estate from public schools was strongly condemned by Louisville authorities.… In true communal spirit, [Harrell] believed that he could provide a better education—one that allowed the students to honor the Bible, the flag, and great patriots like ‘George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and the late Senator Joseph McCarthy.’ … This private school became a test case for the new state compulsory education law which stated that children under age sixteen must attend a public school or one of equal standards.… The case attracted national attention when interviews were taped for airing on NBC’s Dave Garroway Show. Whether the compound school would have been adequate cannot be determined because of the immediate and persistent legal challenges leveled against it. [But] the criticism of their methods must be examined within the context of the time. Techniques related to homeschooling that might be called innovative now were called irresponsible then. What was criticized then—none of the teachers were certified, and only Dr. Curtis [a Grayville, Illinois dentist] had a college degree—might be accepted now in cases where the parent is not formally trained as a teacher. One of the teachers was a seventeen-year-old resident of the compound. Her work with the younger students could be compared to the interaction found among siblings in homeschooling (Garrett 2004, p. 35–37).

This is also like British educator Joseph Lancaster’s Monitoral System used by the Shakers in which older students teach younger students—“Each one teach one.” (ibid; Pitzer 1987, p. 276–277). Modern communalists have been in the vanguard of home schooling. Omni observes that “Alternative schooling methods pioneered in the 70s experiments are now in wide use and no longer considered ‘alternative;’ charter schools are popping up everywhere to push beyond those.”

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She notes that when her own children grew to school age their town “already had a public school that was organized around all of the learning styles and techniques we saw only in the most radical ‘free’ schools in the 70s.” (Mountainskyrainbow 2011). Education and communication are being influenced by another element from the counterculture communes—networking. Omni reminds us, “In the old days, when a number of our cohorts began calling themselves ‘networkers,’ we shared news and ideas in periodicals called underground newspapers.” She concludes, “This is now known as ‘the internet.’ With the explosion of the information revolution, like-minded people can find each other, coordinate, and perhaps most importantly, just know that they are not alone. ‘We are everywhere.’” (ibid). Indeed, social-networking and communities of interest in cyberspace are now taken for granted, products of the revolution in electronic technology (Shafer and Anundsen 1993; Pitzer and Tang 1994). Providers like Facebook, LinkedIn, Zynga, Gropon, Twitter, Zillow, and Pandora connect people for every purpose from matchmaking to terrorism. America Online (AOL) welcomes new members into its “community.” We may need to expand the very definition of intentional community itself to recognize that actually meeting in or occupying a physical place can be partly replaced by meeting and dwelling online. However, we must be wary not to mistake communities of interest online with traditional communal societies with their commitment to face-to-face personal fellowship and support based on a lifestyle, ideology, and economic union. Like healthcare and education, other reforms suggest an urgent need for further development. The expression of tolerance, openness, and inclusiveness exhibited in counterculture communes is paramount in the present struggle to achieve multiculturalism, gender equality, and religious toleration. These reforms are more about attitudes and prejudices, and the most important is the need to pursue peace. In a world of nearly constant warfare, communal societies have attempted exemplary models of peace and harmony. From ancient times, they have shown the human spirit in the difficult search for peace and harmony at all levels—individual, community, nation, and world. Many religious and secular communalists have demonstrated the possibility of finding non-violent means of resolving disputes and have urged governments to employ diplomatic solutions in place of bloodshed. Christian communitarian pacifists from the first-century to the Shakers, Quakers, Hutterites, Amish, and Mennonites of today have attempted conflict management by means of a formula in Matthew 18:15–17, 21–22.



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Any offended member is to first take the issue kindly to the offender, then take a third party, and finally to lay it before the community for resolution. Non-sectarian communitarians in the late twentieth century evolved “consensus decision-making” as a process for avoiding conflicts and authoritarian control. Alpha Farm, founded in 1972 in Deadwood, Oregon, was one of the first communes to use and teach this method. All issues of moment are brought before the assembled membership and ideally discussed by everyone until consensus is reached. For Alpha Farm: Consensus, our decision-making process, is also a metaphor for the ideal world we seek to create here—and so help to create in the larger world. We seek to honor and respect the spirit in all people and in nature; to nurture harmony within ourselves, among people, and with the Earth; and to integrate all of life into a balanced whole (Communities Directory 2010, p. 129).

Laird Schaub, the executive secretary of the Fellowship for Intentional Community, has made a career of consensus facilitation since 1987. Dis­ pute management has become a popular topic in businesses and university business schools worldwide. Oriana Noel Lewis, a descendant of Robert Owen who lives in a cohousing community, is a dispute resolution professional. The twentieth century displayed humanity at its best and worst. The bright side of human ingenuity made it a time of marvelous scientific and technological advance while the dark side of human nature made it the bloodiest time ever, wars killing 120,000,000 people, about half civilians. Global nuclear disaster still hangs over civilization as a threatening legacy. Yet major initiatives for peace were launched for which communal societies’ nonviolent witness may claim a measure of influence, although empirical evidence of direct communal influence on the wider world is seldom easy to indentify. With the blessing of the government of India and UNESCO, Auroville was founded in 1968 in southern India as a semicommunal city to promote international peace and goodwill. Based on the vision of Yogi Sri Aurobindo and his close spiritual advisor Mirra Richard (born Alfassa, known as The Mother) its charter declared: “Auroville will be a site of material and spiritual researches for a living embodiment of an actual Human Unity.” Its website announces: “Auroville wants to be a universal town where men and women of all countries are able to live in peace and progressive harmony above all creeds, all politics and all nationalities.” (Auroville 2011, accessed July 31). The Peace Corps celebrated its fiftieth anniversary in 2011, with more than 200,000 young American volunteers having served as helpers and healers in 139 countries

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(Peace Corps 2011, accessed August 9). In 1984, the United States Institute of Peace, an idea first proposed by George Washington, became a reality as an independent, nonpartisan institution established and funded by Congress with a mandate to help prevent, manage, and resolve international conflict without violence (United States Institute of Peace 2011, accessed July 31). Koinonia Farm near Americus, Georgia, provides some of the best evidence of a communal society whose pacifism has impacted world culture. Founded amid World War II in 1942 by Southern Baptist preacher Clarence Jordan, its commitment to nonviolence, racial equality, and poverty relief have been felt around the globe. After surviving drive-by shootings by the Ku Klux Klan, Koinonia began building houses for members on the basis of interest-free loans and volunteer labor at the initiative of former millionaire member Millard Fuller. His Habitat for Humanity International grew from this communal start. More than 400,000 homes in over 90 countries have been built or rehabilitated for deserving low-income people by volunteers and donations of money and materials. Former President Jimmy Carter and his wife Rosalynn, who live in nearby Plains, Georgia and have long admired the Koinonians’ Christian pursuit of peace and equality, have given the hours and prestige of their labor to many Habitat home-building projects.6 In 2005, Habitat ranked tenth in income among United States’ charities with almost one and one half billion dollars ($1,500,000,000). Since the projected cost of the Iraq War alone is three trillion dollars ($3,000,000,000,000), it is instructive to note how many houses Habitat could have built with that inconceivable sum. If the Iraqi population was divided into families of four, Habitat could have built a $422,000 home for each family in Iraq—or a $200,000 home for each such family in Iraq and Afghanistan! (Pitzer 2009). Peaceminded communitarians may well ask, “What will it take for humanity to awaken to the power of peace, beat their swords into plowshares, and use their hearts, minds, and resources for construction rather than destruction?”

6 Through his Carter Center in Atlanta, Georgia, since 1982, Jimmy Carter has become a volunteer diplomat and Nobel Peace Prize winner. In more than 70 countries in Africa, the Middle East, Latin America, and Asia, he has proven that creating a world at peace is possible one step at a time. His method is the same cultivation of respect for human rights and encouragement of the workings of the democratic process that are inherent in the Koinonia community. Carter Center, www.cartercenter.org/about/accomplishments/ index.html.



developmental communalism45  Developmental Communalism: Innovations of the Cohousing and Ecovillage Movements Contribute to 21st Century World Culture

As the communes of the counterculture movement began to see some of their contributions implemented in society, a second communal wave produced full-fledged cohousing and ecovillage movements by the mid-1990s. Cohousing had begun during the 1960s from the “living community” concept in Denmark (Cohousing 2011; Wann 2005; Meltzer 2005). Promising to replace the often solitary and alienated life of modern urban centers with the security, sharing, and caring of communal neighborhoods, cohousing was introduced into the United States by archi­ tects  Charles Durrett and Kathryn McCamant in 1988. The Cohousing Association of the United States has fostered the growth of the cohous­ ing  movement since 1997. Now hundreds of cohousing communities are active in the United States and Denmark and far beyond—from Australia, New Zealand and Canada to Sweden, Germany, France, and Austria. Following the Association’s collaborative housing format, residents are consciously committed to living as a community, most now containing twenty to forty households (Cohousing Association 2011, accessed August 9). They actively participate in the design and operation of their own neighborhoods, nearly all of which use consensus for group decisionmaking. The physical environment encourages social contact while preserving privacy. Residents meet in courtyards, playgrounds, and a common house with a large dining room, kitchen, laundry, lounge, and recreational facilities (ibid, accessed August 2). The cohousing movement affected housing at many universities as increasing numbers of students sought new ways to live together less expensively and more cooperatively. One of my former students recently volunteered her positive memories of living communally with fifteen to twenty fellow students in a house in Bloomington, Indiana while attending Indiana University. She remembered: We shared everything, food, cleaning up after ourselves. We never argued, we never fought. We took each other to class, we carted one another to locations where one or all needed to get to. We lived happily and successfully in a communal environ. And we benefitted enormously! We were so happy to be together, we had numerous conversations, and with all pitching in on tedious house chores, which I hate, we were able to live this way, take care of each other and share in every joyous aspect of life. So it is proof it can work, it can be done, and there is no doubt about its wonders for all. No one

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donald e. pitzer argued, everyone participated. It was the most satisfying time of [my] life before or since. I was 19/20/21. It can work and work fantastically.7

Both multigenerational and exclusively senior-oriented cohousing are on the increase (Cohousing Association 2011, accessed August 2). Senior citizens are seeking the fellowship and safety of this type of communal living, and not-for-profit and commercial retirement centers now offer facilities that provide the basic benefits of cohousing. The age-specific cohousing model for active elders originated in Denmark and is just now emerging significantly in the United States. Accommodating design features include easy access for all levels of physical ability and possibly studio residences in the common house to provide living quarters for home health aides whose services could be shared by several resi­dents. In 2009, Charles Durrett wrote a justification for senior cohousing. He noted: Last year Americans drove 5 billion miles caring for seniors in their homes (Meals on Wheels, Whistle Stop Nurses, and so on). In our small, semirural county in the Sierra foothills, Telecare made 60,000 trips in massive, lumbering, polluting vans-buses—usually carrying only one senior at a time—schlepping a couple thousand seniors total over hill and dale to doctor’s appointments, to pick up medicine, or to see friends. In our cohousing community of 21 seniors, I have never seen a single Telecare bus in the driveway. In cohousing it happens organically by caring neighbors: ‘Can I catch a ride with you?’ … ‘Are you headed to the drug store?’ … And this alternative is much more fun and inexpensive for all involved, and much less damaging to the environment (Cohousing Association 2011, accessed August 2).

Robert Owen was a visionary when he made environmentalism prominent in communal socialism in the early nineteenth century. He placed “pure air” just second to “Kind treatment from birth” in his list of requirements for the good health and happiness of the human race. (Owen 1970, Part III:12–13). In the first decade of the twenty-first century, Communities magazine devoted ten issues to environmentalism. Its editor, Chris Roth, wrote “ecology is the air we breathe. We can remain unconscious about that only for a while.” (Roth 2009, p. 15). The ecovillage movement emerged in the 1980s and 1990s to find comfortable and sustainable living responses to global warming and to replace rapidly diminishing fossil fuels with alternative energy systems. Robert Gilman and his wife Diane helped popularize ecovillages with

7 Elizabeth Montgomery email to Donald Pitzer, July 17, 2011.



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their 1991 book Eco-villages and Sustainable Communities. The same year, Robert published a definition that became standard: Ecovillages are “human-scale, full-featured settlements in which human activities are harmlessly integrated into the natural world in a way that is sup­ portive  of healthy human development, and which can be successfully continued into the indefinite future.” (Gilman 1991, xvi). The Farm in Tennessee became an early responder to environmental issues and an early leader in the ecovillage movement. Its now-famous Ecovillage Training Center teaches sustainable methods from strawbale construction to solar panel installation. Its director, Albert Bates, has pub­ lished  books on ecology and is secretary of the Ecovillage Network of the Americas, one of several such networks (Bates 2006; Bang 2005). Thousands of ecovillages in at least seventy countries have joined in pioneering experiments in recycling, composting, conservation, rain water collection and wastewater treatment. They have brought new terms into common usage: “permaculture” (PERMAnant agriCULTURE—the design of human living spaces around environmental principles) and “relocalization” (the revival of local production and local consumption). Permaculture is on the increase in sustainable lifestyles that include solar, wind, and geothermal energy, low-cost natural building materials, organic gardening, and vegetarian diets (Permaculture 2011). Relocalizing is appearing as street-corner farmers’ markets selling seasonal fruits and vegetables and as advertisements from grocery stores that proudly link their produce to local family farms. The solutions of the ecovillage movement to the urgent environmental problems facing today’s world are impressive. Yet these solutions can only be globally effective if they are made increasingly more attractive— less primitive than early ecovillage models—and more available—less expensive than offered by industry thus far. Influential individuals, corporations, and governments must be convinced that ecovillage achievements are practical and economical. J. T. Ross Jackson has used his Gaia Trust to support ecovillages and green enterprises around the world. As a member of the International Advisory Council of the Global Ecovillage Network, he believes that these initiatives are the foundation of a viable twenty-first century civilization (Jackson 2000; Gaia Trust 2011). Karen Svensson, co-editor with Hildur Jackson of Ecovillage Living: Restoring the Earth and Her People believes, “Ecovillages embody a way of living. They are grounded in the deep understanding that all things and all creatures are interconnected, and that our thoughts and actions have an impact on our environment.” (Jackson & Swenson 2002).

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In a view akin to the idea of an ultimate stage of developmental communalism for the ecovillage movement, Svensson feels that “a good way of restoring the Earth, ourselves and other living beings is to integrate the principles of Ecovillage Living in daily life” (ibid, 4). It is undeniable that founders of ecovillages were among the first to arrive at a consciousness of the impending environmental crises and to take decisive action to ameliorate them. Also, it is true that we are no longer startled to see the solar panels, wind turbines, and geothermal energy systems of the green revolution that were once largely confined to experimental ecovillages. Although it is difficult to trace the origin of these influences upon world culture, if the ecovillagers can someday be credited with effecting these changes in the wider world, they will have performed a service worthy of their own utopian dreams. Ted Trainer of the University of New South Wales, Australia has ventured the question “Would it be an exaggeration to claim that the emergence of the ecovillage movement is the most significant event in the 20th century?” And he answers bluntly, “I don’t think so.” (quoted in ibid, 3).  Developmental Communalism: Goals of the Late 20th Century Community Movement Merge with 21st Century World Culture Is it possible that the values and innovations of intentional communities from the last several decades are now being integrated so thoroughly into society that the communities no longer need to be thought of as separate or even different from much of today’s culture? This novel idea implies that in a broader dimension of the developmental process we are witnessing the merger of both waves of the communal movement of the late twentieth century into the world culture of the twenty-first century—as the last flourish of an ultimate stage of developmental communalism. Omni Mountainskyrainbow may not have been the first to express this interpretation, but, if not, she has certainly expressed it well. Therefore, this treatment of the concept deserves to carry the impact of her own words and phrases.8 As she sees it: The goal of the communities of the 70s was to demonstrate proto­typed models  of living and relating that were different and better than the

8 Unless otherwise stated the quotations below are from Mountainskyrainbow essay.



developmental communalism49 mainstream culture we grew up in. To do that, we had to separate to some extent from the systems in place at the time. … Like little Petrie dishes, we incubated various strains of new lifestyle. Many of the little seed-batches did very well, some didn’t. We never thought of ourselves as separating from each other when we went off to start communities in the country because we grew up with a sense of being part of a huge cohort. It was a strategic withdrawal, temporary and dictated by necessity. We were just trying to get some breathing room. We needed space from the oppressive atmosphere of the then dominant paradigm, not from others of our generation. At the time of the formation of those Petrie dishes, the emergence of a worldwide community was well underway, facilitated by real time media, necessitated by global threats like the atomic bomb, and represented by the iconic image of the whole earth from space. Ours was the first generation in history to grow up with these factors shaping the inborn tendency to imprint the culture of tribe or group. So we grew up with, and imprinted, the whole planet as our home and all people as our tribe. We wanted to do everything different and better. We had, and still have, a clear overall vision. It is a completely alternative paradigm from the mainstream world view of the 50s USA. It is a vision of cooperation instead of competitive social structures, partnership instead of dominator decision making, and sustainable grassroots rather than depletive food and energy systems. But hey, wow, the 50s USA was over 60 years ago! A LOT has changed! And humanity has demonstrated that anything we can conceive of, and decide to do, can be accomplished. Some of those Petri dishes produced such attractive ideas that they were adopted widely and are now mainstream. Most of them, actually. WE ARE THE MAINSTREAM CULTURE OF THE FUTURE! And the future is here. All of the needs that required going off and starting alternative systems are now established in the greater world and available to anyone who searches. The Petrie dishes have all burst, the purpose of their seed developing mechanism having been fulfilled. They have succeeded beyond our wildest dreams. The good ideas are proliferating and being refined by being shared in real time across all cultural and national boundaries. It is about individual empowerment, freedom, communication and voluntary cooperation, and local innovation and adaptation. It is about peaceful change. It is deeply and profoundly about love. And in many areas, these values and ideas have definitely taken over and flourish today, to the growing benefit of generations that take them for granted, regarding the old ways as barbaric. For example, women’s empowerment, the younger generation’s acceptance of gay relationships and the huge growth of self actualization techniques. Concern about the environment is no longer a theoretical issue. Electric cars zip around, rooftops are decorated with solar panels, the garbage collectors all take recycling. What was a controversial struggle when I was in grade school, the civil rights movement, is settled policy. We have a black president!

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Omni suggests that the communal outposts for incubating new ideas have grown into lampposts to illuminate the cultural conversation. “The lampposts now line the routes, the connected networks of communication. The image is like the nighttime view of the whole earth from space with glowing spider webs connecting cities; the whole thing is lighting up!” … the 70s communes did not fail and disappear, they became so successful that they merged, and now the values they embodied are blooming worldwide. The need for this is so urgent at this time of ecological crisis that it comes just in time, if that. Not only is there no longer a need to go off and separate from mainstream society, indeed just the opposite is the case now! … all of the functions of the isolated alternative community are now being fulfilled in the greater global community. It is time to consolidate and fill in the network that had been forming lo these many decades. That is exactly what is happening. WE ARE NOW CONSCIOUSLY TAKING RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE WHOLE PLANET.

 Developmental Communalism: Communal Living Promises Security, Solidarity, and Survival for the 21st Century and Beyond Frank Zappa, the iconic American rock and jazz musician and songwriter whose lyrics reflected his radical views against established social and political processes, structures, and movements, graphically expressed the doubt that effective humanitarian reform could be possible by any means. In May 1993, a few months before his death, he wrote pessimistically: You can sit down and write a prescription for a utopia but then what the hell? You can’t legislate humanism. You can’t make people be nice to each other. You can’t even hardly trick them into it. They’ll do it voluntarily if you take the pressure off them but that costs money. And who’s got the money? People who don’t give a damn. How can you hope? You’re naïve if you hope (The Guide to Communal Living 94/95, p. 5).

Many shared Zappa’s doubt, yet hope springs eternal in the voluntary, nonviolent communal method of social change. Zappa’s quotation was bravely selected to head the preface of the 1994/1995 issue of The Guide to Communal Living, a publication of the Communes Network in Britain. That preface posed the question directly: “How can we hope?” Then it asserted:



developmental communalism51 Widespread disillusion with conventional politics, and political parties, as a source of hope is leading more and more people to turn to small scale community initiatives. … These initiatives are building on the successes (and learning from the failures) of the various experiments in community politics that started in the 1970s. Of those experiments intentional communities – or communes as they were called then – were perhaps some of the higher profile experiments offering prescriptions of utopia, due mainly to media interest in sex, drugs and wholemeal rolls. Can the communes of the seventies (and before) … be seen as harbingers of hope? (ibid).

With faith in developmental communalism as theoretical evidence for this hope, the editors reprinted in this issue my 1988 address to the International Communal Studies Association titled “Developmental Communalism: an Alternative Approach to Communal Studies.” In retrospect, the editors showed an uncanny anticipation of the adoption of 1970s communal reforms into the worldwide culture of the twenty-first century—the ultimate, integrative stage of developmental communalism now so evident. In fact, communal living and developmental communalism in all their facets are still very much alive. In the broadest sense, humanity has proven cooperation an essential element in life and civilization from early tribes to modern nations. During times of crises—hurricanes, tsunamis, and earthquakes—we respond instinctively with relief. It is all too easy to forget in good times that none of the roads, public schools, waste disposal, or fire and police protection, could be possible without collective action. We are by nature coopera­ tive and collective as well as contrary and competitive. The small, voluntary social units that individuals and movements periodically form serve as catalysts for change within this larger social fabric. These become experimental laboratories for testing different and perhaps better ways of relating, believing and doing. If they work, the larger society may adopt the most relevant and promising of their reforms as is happening now from the communal experimentation done in the late twentieth century. All the security, solidarity, and survival benefits, which have been the great appeal of communal living for millennia, are just as viable and vitally needed in the twenty-first century. Whether it be security from loneliness or a depressed economy, solidarity in the fellowship of trusted and like-minded friends, or survival from the threats from a warming planet or the pollution and exhaustion of energy sources, communal living in a multitude of forms is relevant to today’s world. In an article in the 2010 Communities Directory titled “Good News in Hard Times,” Laird

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Schaub, executive secretary of the Fellowship for Intentional Community, writes that the promise and hope of community stands out all the brighter in bleak times. In hard times it becomes more readily apparent how a strong social web can also become an economic safety net. When the normal job market is disrupted, many people need to scramble to make ends meet. While some of this may be accomplished with belt tightening (or perhaps buying a new belt), there are more creative options—all of which intentional communities are excellent at fostering: Barter (and non-monetary local economics), Sharing (instead of owning), Economics of scale (buying together), Meeting more of your needs within walking (or biking) distance, [and] Do-It-Yourself (with a little help from your friends). … The ultimate security is not a fat bank account (just ask those whose house equity or retirement accounts have dropped precipitously; its relationships. Security is the people who will be there for you when you need help. Like right now. … And the beauty of this approach is that it applies just as well when times get better. It turns out that sharing—and figuring out how [to] get along better with one’s neighbors—is always a good idea (Communities Directory 2010, p. 11).

THEORIZING INTENTIONAL COMMUNITY IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY Lyman Tower Sargent  Introduction Intentional communities are a world-wide phenomenon with a very long history with both fundamental similarities and significant differences depending on time, place, and culture. The earliest such communities that we currently know of are the ashrams established in India somewhere around 1500 bce followed by Buddhist monasteries in India, China, Japan, and Southeast Asia beginning around 500 bce. It is not clear when the first communal societies were established in what became the Western tradition, but the Essenes, who are thought to have established the Qumran community, are known to have existed in the 2nd century bce. The earliest Western communal movements that are still influential originated during the Reformation when radical Protestants began to argue that private property was directly contrary to the teachings of Christ and the practices of the early Church. They believed that equality in the eyes of God should translate into equality in this life although they did not necessarily eliminate differences in power within the community or the current structure of gender relations. How should we understand intentional communities today? To try to answer this question, here I examine definition, particularly as raised by Timothy Miller in a recent article, four approaches that have been developed regarding intentional communities: the ‘success versus failure’ model popularized by Rosabeth Moss Kanter; Donald E. Pitzer’s developmental communalism and Joshua Lockyer’s revision of Pitzer, which he calls transformational utopianism; Henry Near’s analysis of ‘postutopianism’ in the kibbutz; and the statements that have been made about the relationship between intentional communities and utopianism. I argue that the subject of intentional communities is seriously undertheorized. This has happened in part because most studies focus on specific communities or groups of communities without attempting to generalize beyond them and in part because intentional communities require a complex, multi- and interdisciplinary approach, while most schol­ ars quite naturally approach the subject from within their discipline.

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An additional problem is that most communities are studied from outside.1 Obviously all work on historic communities is done from outside, but so is most work on contemporary communities, which are inhabited by living, breathing human beings, each one with a different understanding of their own community. Therefore, scholars need to remember that there are insiders as well as outsiders, and they should be aware that insiders consistently say that the outsiders just do not get it. Also the focus of a member is often radically different from the focus of the outsider, and it is essential to recognize that both can be right.  Definition2 Clearly, intentional communities are not all the same, and I believe that our definitional boundaries have to be porous. I am not saying that we do not need definitions; I am saying that definitions should not be a fortress designed to keep anything slightly different outside. From Hennell through Finch, Hinds, Nordhoff, Noyes, and a variety of similar exercises in the twentieth century, the earliest studies of intentional communities were primarily descriptive and generally noncontroversial. And since then most scholarship on intentional communities has focused on particular communities, community leaders, or groups of communities with little concern whether they fit into an overall pattern. A personal example suggests some of the problems involved in definition. When I was a graduate student in the early Sixties, my wife and I shared a house with another couple. All food was bought in common

1 There are four partial exceptions to this, all of which pose problems. First, some current members write about their own communities, but such studies, while useful, are rarely balanced. Second, ex-members are notorious for stressing, and often overstating, the problems in a community. Third, descendants, particularly those who still live in what had been the community, like the many descendents of the Amana communities, often have privileged access to information, but, while there are exceptions, they rarely have the training necessary to know how to interpret such information. Finally, participantobservers who live in a community temporarily in order to study it have the problem of keeping their balance between being co-opted and taking sides on whatever issues the community is currently facing. 2 The earliest study of intentional communities appears to be that of Hennel, and she used a quite broad definition of the subject that included both American Indian communities as well as the nineteenth century communities that had been founded by the time of publication. Modern definitions can be found in Sargent 1994, 30–32, Shenker, 10–11, and Miller, 1–5.



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and cooking and cleaning were collective responsibilities that rotated. We discussed among ourselves and with friends the possibility of establishing an intentional community and how we might design it, but we were not one at that time. We were getting a house in the country with an attached pottery cheaply while the owner was on sabbatical. I expect that a year or so later we might well have seen ourselves as an intentional community, and we would have fit all but one (size) of the characteristics that are included in most definitions. Thus, how people think of themselves is an important variable. There are over twenty words or phrases that have been used to characterize what I am here calling intentional communities, the first usage of which I’ve seen being May 1945 (“To the Post-War World”).3 Most of the terms have specific political content or include words like utopia that many reject. Among the more neutral terms intentional community is the most commonly used today, although the general public still prefers commune. It is my position that intentional community is the best of the terms because it specifies the fewest preconditions and has no political or other prescriptive content. The phenomenon must be a community, which admittedly is a deeply contested term that cannot be assumed but must be specified.4 In addition, the people must have the intent to live together; they must have chosen to do so. Finally, deduced from the above and necessary to the definition, there must be a reason for the choice, which is usually characterized by saying that some sort of vision must exist. The most recent consideration of definitional issues is Timothy Miller’s “A Matter of Definition”. His definition includes the following: 1. The group in question must be gathered on the basis of some kind of purpose or vision, and see itself as set apart from mainstream society to some degree. Intentional communities are not simply group living situations; they are group living situations that have specific purposes and offer alternatives to societal business as usual. … 3 These terms are intentional community, intentional society, communal society, cooperative community, practical utopia, commune, withdrawn community, enacted community, experimental community, communal experiment, alternative society, alternative lifestyle, communitarian experiment, socialist colonies, collective settlement, mutualistic communities, communistic societies, utopian society, utopian experiment, communal utopia, utopian settlement, and elective community. 4 For discussions of the definition of community, see Hillery 1955 which identifies 95 definitions and Köning 1968, 22 which says that Hillery’s list is incomplete.

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2. The group must live together on property that has some kind of clear physical commonality to it. …. 3. The group must have some kind of financial or material sharing, some kind of economic commonality. …. 4. The group must have a membership of at least five adults, not all of whom are related by blood or marriage, which should be who have chosen voluntarily to join in common cause (7). These four basic elements, which he elaborates on in his article, seem quite clear, but he goes on to discuss what he calls ‘gray areas’. These are ‘American Indian/Native American tribes. … Shantytowns and other gatherings of people otherwise homeless. … Student housing cooperatives. … Conference and retreat centers. … Temporary communities. … Gated communities. … Communities with low levels of cooperation. … Mobile communities. … Ethnic enclaves and settlement colonies …’ (9–11). These ‘gray areas’ are where the most important and interesting issues arise, issues that cannot be set aside but must be dealt with because all of them are sometimes included and sometimes excluded in discussions of intentional communities. I also think that there are additional ‘gray areas’. But even some of Miller’s four core characteristics are not as straightforward as might first appear. For example, the Amish, which are almost always included in discussions of intentional communities do not fit points two and three while they do fit points one and four (The classic study of the Amish is 1963 Hostetler). Also, the Hasidim, which are almost never included in discussions of intentional communities, also fit one and four while not fitting two and three (On the Hasidim as intentional communities, see Fischer 1988, Margulies 2000, and Rapoport-Albert 1996). In both cases part of point one is distinctive dress. But both groups see themselves as communities and are perceived as communities by most outsiders, so why is one thought of one way and the other another way when neither of them quite fit. With regard to point two, both groups have, within their own terms, a defined physical community. For the Hasidim it is defined in a way similar to certain other Jewish groups by the distance that can be comfortably walked to the synagogue on the Sabbath. For the Old Order Amish it is defined by the distance that can be comfortably ridden by buggy to their religious meeting, which has no set location but moves among the homes of the members. There is also a way that within their own terms both the Amish and the Hasidim also fit the third point. There is no common property in that the



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Amish generally work their privately owned farms and the Hasidim are employed in a wide range of occupations, but there is a clearly understood ethos of mutual support in time of need and mutual is here what defines them as communities. In addition what Miller calls ‘Communities with a low level of cooperation’ can include even communal forms that are almost universally thought of as intentional communities. From the ads and notes in the journal Communities one would assume that cohousing is a central part of the communal movement and that there should be no question regarding inclusion.5 But there are a significant number of cohousing groups and members that vehemently deny that they should be considered among intentional communities while there are other cohousing groups and members who just as vehemently say that they certainly should be. The deniers need to be taken as seriously as the proponents. Was the intent in forming the cohousing association a significantly different life or good housing in a safe environment? Obviously some of them were in search of a significantly different life and do self-identify with other intentional communities, and in many European countries the identification is standard. But other groups, often reacting to the ‘hippie’ image that still hangs around communes and not seeing their essentially middle-class lifestyle fitting that image, strongly reject the connection (The classic work on cohousing is McCamant and Durrett 1994). This division accurately reflects the reality of cohousing, and it is simply wrong to treat all cohousing as if it were one thing. While the form of property holding tends to be the same or at least similar, the extent of community life varies considerably. In cohousing property is a mixture of private and collective with the site and shared facilities held collectively, usually as shareholders, and the individual houses owned privately.6 As far as daily life is concerned, at one end community meetings, community work, shared meals, and the like are the norm. At the other end, community interaction is minimal and exists only to the extent required by the legal agreements. Most groups are somewhere in between these extremes. Many cohousing communities have both the feel and the look of an intentional community, with architecture designed to enhance rather 5 The first cohousing community was established in Denmark in 1972. 6 In some cohousing associations the privately owned houses can be sold to whoever makes the best offer. In others, the purchaser must be approved by the community, which is a similar system to that used by many condominiums, very few of which would ever be considered communities, let alone intentional communities.

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than defeat community. These communities tend to be participatory in the same way that most secular intentional communities are. But at the same time they also tend to be less communal in the way property is held than many intentional communities. On this point, it is important to remember that there is no single model of property holding for intentional communities, and it is hard to think of a form of property-holding that has not been used by some self-identified intentional community. The same things can be said about ecovillages,7 and both cohousing and ecovillage are relatively recent coinages that are sometimes used as loosely as commune. Those cohousing groups that do not stress community look a lot like the gated communities, which Miller includes as a gray area, that are primarily concerned with excluding the outside world and have almost no community interaction.8 Gated communities and cohousing communities often look alike, but there are central differences. The differences are found in the way property is held and in the ethos surrounding internal relations. In the gated communities both property and ethos are essentially private, closing off even other inhabitants of the supposed community. Contributions are required for maintenance and the guards, and the odd meeting may be necessary, but except in rare cases there is little or no community life. While sometimes there are community facilities like a swimming pool, tennis courts, and a party room, they are essentially private and in some cases have to be scheduled and their use paid for separately. Thus, gated communities are not really a gray area. Ecovillages are regularly called intentional communities, but again there are problems of self-image and intent. The primary purpose of an ecovillage is to create an environmentally sound, sustainable community, but there are significant differences among ecovillages on what should and should not be part of that effort. Some ecovillages aim at virtual self-sufficiency while others have members who commute to work in their privately owned cars, something that members of many other ecovillages find utterly unacceptable. And there are as great differences over

7 The term ecovillage appears to have been first used in the early 1990s, generally as eco-village. 8 Miller appears to want to see the gate as a defining characteristic of what have come to be called gated communities, but many communities have gates but have none of the other characteristics of gated communities (On gated communities, see, Blakely and Snyder 1997).



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how much community life there is (On ecovillages, see Bang 2005 and Gilman 1991). In the case of both cohousing and ecovillages there is in fact a quite simple point to be made, some are and some are not intentional communities, and one of the problems in the literature is the inability or unwillingness to make that point. The same problem arises in connection with another of Miller’s gray areas. For example, his category American Indian/ Native American tribes, although the gray area really needs to be taken beyond the American context, is quite simply dealt with in that contemporary chosen forms that try to recreate a usually romanticized version of a tribal past are clearly intentional communities while the traditional forms that emerged over time are not. An evolutionary process is not a choice. My greatest problem with Miller’s gray areas is with ‘Temporary Com­ munities’, within which I would include his ‘Shantytowns and other gatherings of people otherwise homeless,’ including squats, and ‘Mobile communities,’ including some Romany or gypsies and New Age Travellers. The problem with the temporary community is that many of them are deliberately temporary and this form was simply unknown before the socalled Sixties. Then there were a substantial number of groups that called themselves communes, the favored word at the time, that served primarily as either gathering points for political action, or, much more quietly in the U.S, as a safe-house for those avoiding arrest for draft-resistance or for their political activity. And there was something like an underground railway for war resistors that led to Canada in which communities played a significant role. These communities were modeled on the underground railroad that moved slaves from the American South to the North and ultimately to Canada before the U.S. Civil War. The earlier underground railroad is particular interesting in this context in that intentional communities were established in Canada to receive the ex-slaves and some of these were fairly long-lived but all disappeared as the people were absorbed into Canadian society (See Pease and Pease 1963). A post-Sixties phenomenon that is reminiscent of the temporary, political community of that period is the protest community. Greenham Common in England is probably the best known, lasting from September 1981 to 2000 with some women staying for a long time and others coming and going. There have been many such sites of protest with communi­ ties  emerging and staying for a time. Squatters fall into this category. Saskia Poldervaart once arranged for me to speak at a squatters’ cafe in Amsterdam, a business run by squatters that provided good, vegetarian

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food, beer, a center for political communication, performance, and an income for some of the squatters in the area. It had been in existence for a few years at that point and may still be, but longevity was certainly not the point. Some squats have a vision, usually reclaiming unused property from the rich to make it available for the poor; many do not. Hakim Bey (Peter Lamborn Wilson) has called such sites Temporary Autonomous Zones or TAZ.9 They are temporary communities that come and go. They are created for a specific purpose, to be able to do something that cannot normally be done, something that enhances life. They can last a night, like the ‘Reclaim-the Streets’ parades, a summer like the lesbian music camp in Michigan, or longer like some squats. In most cases there is a vision like safe streets or the ability to freely and openly live your sexuality. They do not look like what we usually think of as intentional communities, but many of them fit any definition that does not require longevity. The Temporary Autonomous Zone model can also incorporate communities that come and go in different places like the Rainbow Gatherings, some Romany, and some New Age Travelers. In the late nineteen century and the first half of the twentieth century many Romany moved from camp to camp throughout the countries in which they lived and, when possible, across borders. Some still do, but many have been forced to settle in some permanent location and are subject to extreme discrimination in many countries. The earlier Romany might be compared to Indian tribes in that the lifestyle was traditional, not chosen. Today, some choose that lifestyle and can be considered intentional, but they do not generally have a coherent vision. The closest non-Romany contemporary equivalent are New Age Travelers, who usually live in caravans as earlier Romany did, but they try very hard, and quite successfully, to stay under official radar. They do this by not forming communities except, as with the Rainbow Gatherings, at intervals, usually for festivals celebrating seasonal changes. The communities are temporary, for a purpose, and a clearly defined part of Traveller life. And they are very dangerous for that life because they are the one time that they are likely to come to the attention of officialdom, which delights in taking their children away and condemning their caravans as unsafe or unsanitary and confiscating them. There are other communities that might belong in Miller’s gray areas, such as the base Christian communities of Liberation Theology, 9 George McKay calls the phenomenon DiY Culture and Colin Ward refers to it as an anarchist theory of organization.



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therapeutic communities like Gould Farm and the Camphill communities, cooperatives, and ‘virtual’ communities. The base communities of liberation theology are rarely classed with intentional communities, and there are good reasons for that, primarily because in most cases their goals were quite limited. But there are also good reasons for considering them as intentional communities, most obviously because they are communities whose members have chosen to belong; i.e., there is intent. They were the result of the growing separation between the Roman Catholic Church in Latin and South America and its poorest members. They were created to meet two needs, the lack of priests to serve rural areas and the extreme poverty in those areas, a poverty that was a central theological concern of Liberation Theology. Since the Church was unable to provide priests in many rural communities, some radical priests and theologians encouraged communities to become their own priests. In doing so the communities created not just the religious structures they needed but also a stronger awareness of themselves as a community, which resulted in people working together on their secular as well as their religious needs (On these communities, see Hebblethwaite). Such communities developed throughout Latin and South America, but while Lib­eration Theology spread to Protestantism and around the world, it spread without base communities being created, and the Church suppressed both Liberation Theology and most such communities where they existed. Therapeutic communities like the long-established communities of the mentally ill in Belgium or the world-wide Camphill movement have carers and cared-for, but they are both full members, participating in the life of the community from fully to a limited extent. The carers may burn out and leave and be replaced by new carers, which can be traumatic for the cared-for. Some of the cared-for may ultimately be able to leave the community; others may spend their lives there. These are clearly intentional communities but intentional communities of a different sort and constitute a sub-category. Recently the internet has been seen by some as a space that provides the possibility of connectivity among people, a space in which to create virtual communities. I do not currently see such communities, to the extent they actually exist, as fitting any plausible definition of an intentional community, but I am open to changing my mind. Some think of such communities in utopian terms. Others have seen the same phenomenon in dystopian terms, and in science fiction there is an entire related sub-genre, called cyberpunk, that is unreservedly dystopian. At present, it

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seems necessary to say that while both tendencies exist, neither the potential for utopia or dystopia has been realized. Except for the first few issues the journal Communities, the primary magazine produced by the intentional communities movement, has had Cooperation or Cooperative as part of its subtitle, and cooperative community was one of the previous labels for intentional communities. Although Miller includes them as a gray area, Deborah Altus has argued that housing cooperatives and student housing cooperatives in particular should be thought of as intentional communities, and in a review essay in Utopian Studies I argued that we need to look more closely at cooperation as an aspect of both utopianism and intentional communities (Sargent 2001). While there are those who dismiss the connection, and certainly housing cooperatives vary tremendously on the extent to which they have either a vision or a community, there are those that fit any definition of an intentional community. Different issues emerge from producer and consumer cooperatives. While the producer cooperative at Mondragón in Spain is regularly included as an intentional community, most such cooperatives are primarily economic institutions with few non-economic ties among their members. But, some cooperatives, like Mondragón, do have such non-economic ties and some cooperatives have visions that extend beyond the economic (On Mondragón, see Hoover). Thus, cooperatives are another case where some can be called intentional communities and some cannot.  Theories While many of the definitions and much of the scholarship is narrowly focused, much of the theory is very general, treating intentional communities as if they were all or mostly alike. How can we capture in one statement communities from different time periods and cultures? A broad, general definition may be a place to start, but then we need to recognize variety. We need to characterize the sub-categories so that we capture both the connections and recognize the differences. And we must remember that every community has its own life cycle beginning with visions and pre-planning to birth, growth, maturation, and, often, death, with death possible at any point in a community’s life. And after the death of a community, it still lives in memory, and it will almost certainly be changed in memory, probably a number of times as it is reinterpreted to meet the interests of each new interpreter.



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To explore the problems of theorizing intentional communities, I look briefly at a number general satements about intentional communities raising some problems with each. I then say something about a possible alternative approach. George Hillery is important in communal studies as the first person to systematically discuss monasteries and convents as intentional communities, but when he generalizes and places intended communities in a theoretical context, he never provides the specificity that is necessary to distinguish them from any other community and he treats them differently in different publications, which tells us nothing very useful (See Hillery 1984 and 1985). John W. Bennett developed a theory of communalism that covered religious communities from the Qumran community to when he was writing in the 1970s, but he excludes all secular communities (Bennett 1975). Clearly there are important differences between religious and secular communities, but are they so different that we cannot apply a single label to them? That would seem to be what he is suggesting, but he does not make that argument, and until forced to by the data, we should try to find an approach that includes both. The third and most popular theory, albeit at a lower level, only addressing one question, is the success-failure model defined in terms of lon­ gevity (25 years) developed and popularized by Rosabeth Moss Kanter, which was quickly accepted by many commentators without examining it critically (Wagner 1985 is the best discussion of the problem of success). Kanter’s argument is more sophisticated than the version of it that has entered the literature, and she makes clear that she is only concerned with nineteenth century American communities, but her clear limita­ tions  were mostly ignored. And the title of her book, Commitment and Community (1972), should have set off some alarm bells; Kanter was primarily concerned with commitment mechanisms and commitment is most easily measured by the fact that people stayed rather than left. While longevity can be a measure of success when combined with other factors, alone it is meaningless, and, to be fair to Kanter, she was aware of this. To many communal scholars, success in terms of longevity is simply the wrong question. Success is likely to be defined very differently by those in a community and those outside it, and both definitions may be correct even if they differ. To community members a community is a success to the extent that it meets their needs for however long they are members and the extent it did or did not improve their lives while they were members.

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Community members tend to be concerned with the everyday. Do they feel economically secure? What is the food like? Are they adequately housed? Is their work congenial? Are their children content and getting the sort of education/socialization they need, although this may look different to the children than it does to the parents? And, in many ways most important, do the members get along on a day to day basis? Different questions will be of more or less interest to different members, but if their felt needs are met, the community will be judged a success. If not, not. An outsider might use some of these same measures but they almost certainly would be used differently. The outsider may be trying to tell the story of the community, and that is what most reportage is, but there is almost always some evaluative dimension. And, with scholars, the focus may be more narrow, such as gender relations, internal decision-making, leadership, economics, architecture, craftsmanship, etc., which suggests that no story will ever be complete. But ‘success’ will be measured by the interests of the outsider just as it is by the interests of the members. Both are valid within their own terms, and they can both be evaluated by others. The fourth approach is Donald E. Pitzer’s ‘developmental communalism’ including the recent revision of it by Joshua Lockyer as what he calls ‘transformative utopianism’. Pitzer argues that ‘Communal living is a generic social mechanism available to peoples, governments and movements, past, present and future’, and he goes on to say that ‘Leaders of these movements look to communal living as a survival technique, especially during formative stages’ (“Developmental Communalism” 68). And then he says, ‘Developmental communalism is the process of adopting communal living and collective economies as useful, perhaps essential, arrangements during a formative stage of social, political, religious or reform development and of altering or abandoning communal forms, economies, and practices in response to subsequent challenges and needs’ (“Developmental Communalism” 69). Thus, he repositions communal living and intentional communities as a stage of a social movement rather than being a goal. I have wondered what would constitute evidence for developmental communalism. Such evidence might be found in the stated intent at the time of the founding and in the actual histories of communities, and Pitzer refers to some communities as providing such evidence. In addition, the book he edited, America’s Communal Utopias (1997), is designed to provide further evidence, but it must be said that many of the essays do not in fact provide that evidence.



theorizing intentional community65 Stated intent can be found in the following: 1. The New Deal communities in the U.S. were established to meet a temporary felt need. 2. The anti-slavery communities in Canada and the U.S. were established for the same reason. 3. The Ujamaa communities in Tanzania were established to meet a felt need and while they were not intended to be temporary they were. 4. The Ohu movement on New Zealand fits in that the proposal made by the Prime Minister suggested that the communities would meet a current purpose. The practice was somewhat different (See Sargent 1999). 5. Some of the communities established in the U.S. during the Vietnam war fit in that they were part of the antiwar movement. Some similar activist communities in other countries would also fit.

An example of actual practice referred to by Pitzer provides somewhat contradictory evidence. Roman Catholic orders, which when Pitzer was writing appeared to be in serious trouble, particular orders for women that focused on education and what might be loosely called social work. Many Catholic schools, from elementary though university, closed or replaced the sisters with lay teachers. In addition, the changing status of women and their ability to get education and have careers on their own rather than through the orders meant that many fewer women chose to join such orders. Similar things but not to the same extent happened among orders for men. On the other hand, since then the most restrictive Roman Catholic orders for both men and women have grown significantly. This again makes the point that even within one movement, we cannot treat communities as if they were all alike. The communities with the longest histories, the Ashrams and Buddhist communities, simply do not fit very well because they are so deeply embedded in their cultures or subcultures that they never end. Those transplanted out of their cultural contexts or established in other cultures by converts appear to be better fits. Anglican communities, which have never been a significant part of Anglican practice, appear to fit better, the point being that with all three traditions, the cultural context is essential. Something that Pitzer refers to in passing that needs much more thorough analysis is generational conflict as a cause of the demise of communities. Aside from the tendency of children to at some stage reject their parents’ lifestyle and values, there is a lot of anecdotal evidence that suggests that while a community is a wonderful place to be a child, it can be

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a terrible place to be a teenager. Thus, there is a serious problem for any communal society, but particularly secular ones, to survive past the first generation. The obvious solution, and one that has worked for many communities, is renewal through gaining new members, but it is difficult to do, and many communities do not manage to do it. Thus, a subset of communities that end may simply be one-generational communities. In America’s Communal Utopias, while most of the contributors pay only lip service to developmental communalism, there are some instances where the author takes the developmental communalism model seriously and it is worth looking at those communities. The Mormon communities of the nineteenth century appear to be the best examples of Pitzer’s thesis. The communities were established when the new denomination was being established, was seriously threatened from outside in that the communities were physically attacked and its leader and his brother were murdered by a mob, and the communal phase was abandoned by the main branch of Mormonism after the church was firmly established in Utah. Communalism lasted somewhat longer in a schismatic group now known as the Community of Christ and in at least one small splinter group. The first also abandoned communalism after it was firmly established, although there appears to be a modest recent revival, and the splinter group never got well established and died out. Other communal groups discussed in the book that might provide evidence for developmental communalism are the Amana communities, the Owenite communities, and the Jewish agricultural communities, with, in some ways the last raising the most interesting questions. These communities were an aspect of early twentieth century immigration, and thus were a transitional phase in the process of social integration. The Owenite communities, Pitzer’s own specialty, both rose out of a social movement and were connected with a number of social movements both in the U.S. and Great Britain, particularly the labor movement but including early feminism and what much later became the civil rights movement. Thus, while the number of different directions the Owenites went in raise questions about how to apply the developmental communalism model, they would appear to fit. The Amana communities abandoned communalism largely as a result of the identification of communalism with Communism and regret about the decision by descendants is not hard to find in Amana today. The religious beliefs and practices remain with some modifications to fit the twenty-first century, the Amana Society still owns substantial property, and there is a very active heritage movement, but Amana has no discernable connection with any social movement. Other communities,



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like the Theosophical communities, were founded by social movements but do not seem to have been founded for the reasons Pitzer suggests, and there are others like the Huterian Brethren that have never abandoned communalism. Therefore, my conclusion is that developmental communalism fits some communities and is a useful lens through which to view those communities, but that it does not fit other communities and should not be used in those cases. And Pitzer appears to assume that communal living in and of itself cannot be the goal of an intentional community and that communal living is not itself a social movement, but for many people founding or joining communities in the ‘Sixties’ this was in fact the case in that they had no overriding goal or philosophy that included communal living as one aspect of it. We cannot say that because a community or movement disappeared it was because it failed to rid itself of the communal form. This would be pure speculation and simply not demonstrable in that any logician will remind us that a negative cannot be proven. And the argument cannot just be that communalism and communal movements evolve because all human institutions evolve and change to meet felt needs. In 2009 Joshua Lockyer published “From Developmental Communalism to Transformative Utopianism: An Imagined Conversation with Donald Pitzer” in Communal Societies and Pitzer responded in the same issue (Pitzer 2009). Lockyer’s initial problem is with the word ‘developmental’, which he sees as posing difficulties because its current connotations conflict with the ethos of the communities that interest him the most, which are ecovillages and ‘sustainably-oriented intentional communities’. Pitzer notes in response that the word developmental did not have those negative connotations when he coined the phrase. Lockyer proposes ‘transformative utopianism’ as a replacement, which, of course, broadens the issue considerably. In response Pitzer notes that utopianism is not thought well of in most communities, and Lockyer himself begins his article by quoting a member of one of the communities he has studied rejecting the label utopia. Thus, Lockyer might better have simply changed developmental to transformational without changing communalism also, but he uses utopianism deliberately. He then follows Pitzer in stressing the shift from community to movement. Certainly some communities follow this pattern, but most do not. And, in fact, there are few social movements that either emerged from communities or had a communal phase. Looked at from the point of view of social movements, communal societies are largely irrelevant. We know that after they left

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the community or their community died some members of both secular and religious communities chose to put their energies into social movements related to aspects of the life they had hoped to achieve in community. But if we trace the post-community histories of members, they go in significantly different directions depending on what was important to them in community and what became important to them later in life. Thus, the connection to community-life is limited at best.10 While most communities live on only in the memories of its own members and those who had a close connection with it, others are remembered for the contributions to culture like the arts and crafts communities of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, for their craftsmanship like the Shakers, for the various visions of a better life that so many communities had, or for the utter incompetence, bungling, and infighting that characterized too many communities.  Utopianism Lockyer says that ‘Transformative utopianism suggests that many intentional communities begin with a strong sense of utopian idealism. How­ ever this utopian idealism becomes less urgent over time’ (5), and he is certainly correct in that statement. But an approach that predates developmental communalism and starts where Lockyer does in stressing the strength of early utopianism in communities has a much more nuanced analysis of what happens then. Henry Near applies his approach only to the kibbutz, but it is more widely applicable. In 1985 Near published an article in Communal Societies entitled “Utopian and Post-Utopian Thought: The Kibbutz as Model.” He revisited it in a paper to the Utopian Studies Society of Europe and an expanded version appears his Where Community Happens: The Kibbutz and the Philosophy of Communalism (2011) together with two further essays exploring the post-utopian in communal societies. Essentially, he argues that the kibbutzim were explicitly utopian at the beginning and that the utopianism remains in what he calls the post-utopian period. He argues that while the founding was clearly 10 What is true is that communities do not end when they die; they leave memories and legacies and in some cases the memory or legacy becomes more important than the community ever was. The Irish Ralahine community is an example of a community that never amounted to much during its short life but has become an important part of communitarian, Owenite, and Irish history. I thank Tom Moylan for pointing out that I needed to deal with a community’s legacy and for suggesting Ralahine.



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utopian, no people or social form could ever live up to the hopes of the founding and that people must adjust to the reality of daily life with other people and to the loss of the original vision. It is ‘post-utopian’ in that many members adjust their utopian vision to the reality, some simply changing the dream, some putting it in the past, some concluding that the current situation is still better than the alternatives, and others putting utopia off to some undefined future. Near is clearly correct in identifying this pattern, which can probably be seen in any long-lived intentional community, but he tells us more about people than about communities. The dreams of youth get adjusted to the realities of middle and old age. Some people get disillusioned and discard their dreams or adopt new ones in their place. Others accept the new life as better even if it is not as good as had been hoped. And yet others hope that the much better life is still to come, if, perhaps, only for their children or grandchildren. Something like this is a fairly standard pattern, and it is something we should be aware of in studying communities, but how far does this take us. It says clearly that communities change over time because the people in them change, even if they are the same people, but does that say anything more than that people change, which we knew already. I once suggested that at any one time there may be only so much ‘utopian energy’ and that if this is displaced elsewhere there will be relatively little utopian literature and the establishment of few intentional communities (Sargent 2007, 309–11). I was thinking of the period of the U.S. founding from the revolution through the ratification of the Bill of Rights and similar periods in other countries. But the idea might also apply, appropriately modified, to the life history of intentional communities. Clearly there is more utopian energy in the lead up to the founding than at any other time and that energy will continue for some time after the community is established. But the stresses of daily life and interaction with other members are bound to bring about a diminishment in enthusiasm and thus utopian energy. That does not mean that the utopian dimension of one’s involvement disappears altogether, but simply that it is displaced. A crisis in the community can revive a person’s utopian energy or diminish it further. There are numerous examples of a crisis undermining a community, but there are also many examples of a crisis reinvigorating a community (See the discussions of Chippenham and Katajuta in Sargisson and Sargent 2004). While many members of intentional communities do not, with good reason, like the connection with utopianism, it is there. Much of the

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problem stems from misunderstanding utopia, which is often incorrectly identified with perfection. Utopia should be identified with better, perhaps significantly better, not with perfection (For the argument, see Sargent 2010, 103–04). Thomas More’s Utopia (1516), where the word was invented, presents us with a significantly better society, not a perfect one, even to the people living in it. If we construe utopia as better, the connection between intentional communities and utopianism is obvious. Intentional communities are founded for a purpose and most have some sort of vision at least in the lead up to and at the founding. We can sometimes find the vision spelled out in constitutions and agreements, many of which would be called utopias if presented as fiction, and some of which were fictions in that they never became the reality of the community. Some communities were founded at least loosely on utopian novels, like the Icarian and Skinnerian communities based on Étienne Cabet’s (1788–1856) Voyage en Icarie (1839) and B.F. Skinner’s (1904–90) Walden Two (1948). Others followed the vision of a social reformer like Robert Owen (1771–1858), Charles Fourier (1772– 1837), and Claude Henri Saint-Simon (1760–1825), who are called utopian socialists. The content of the visions differed in both substance and detail, but most rejected the current method of property holding, particularly private property in land and factories; most rejected the current class structure and the power structure that went with it; and some rejected the current structure of gender relations. Obviously, the details of that better life vary from community to community as they vary from utopian novel to utopian novel. Many religious communities believed that the Second Coming would be soon and they were putting into practice elements of the even better life that they would lead after the Second Coming. Some, particularly secular communities, believed that their model should be adopted by others and eventually spread throughout at least the Western world. In other words, they were what Bestor called ‘patent-office models of the good society’ (See Bestor 1953). Utopianism is concerned with the transformation of everyday life but also directly confronts the fact that lives are wholes, that children, families, marriage, education, economics, politics, death, etc. are all connected. And intentional communities are particularly radical in that their members are willing to experiment with the transformation of their own lives. Dystopian communities – A community phenomenon that seems to me to not get adequate discussion in the literature, and too much in the popular press, is the existence of what I’ll call dystopian communities. We know



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that much criticism of specific intentional communities has been false, coming either from ex-members with a grudge or from someone with a different worldview who does not approve of the choices made by the community members. But remember Jonestown, the Solar Temple, Centrepoint, and the other communities in which there has been serious abuse of some members. Intentional communities are human constructs, and they are not free from human failing, and we must recognize that fact. My argument is that some, and I stress some, intentional communities should be thought of as utopian spaces at some stage or stages of their existence and that following Near, they remain utopian spaces for some members when they no longer are for others. Although he uses the phrase post-utopian Near argues that for many members the utopian vision is an adjusted not a lost vision. Another way of looking at it is that intentional communities are a utopian praxis with praxis used in the Marxian sense of including both theory and practice with each continually changing the other over time. The theory or vision leads people to choose a new life or practice. As that life is lived it changes the theory or vision which in turn changes the practice and the process continues throughout the life of the community with periods of stability and periods of change, sometimes rapid change.  Conclusion In conclusion I shall suggest where the foregoing analysis of the current understanding of intentional communities should leaves us. First, intentional community is the best of the labels used because it is the most neutral, carrying no emotive or political baggage. All that intentional community says is that the people involved must have planned on being a community. But of course there is more to it than that. For example, extended families are always excluded and so, in almost all circumstances are ethnic immigrant communities. The extended family may evolve into a community, but there is no intent to be a one; like a traditional tribe an evolutionary process is not a choice. As a result, almost all definitions say that the members of an intentional community cannot be all related. Immigrant ethnic communities produce another standard addition to definitions, that an intentional community must at least initially have some sort of shared vision. Most immigrants have the goal of a better life for themselves, their families, and/or their descendents, and frequently a group from the same town immigrates and settles together and even temporarily reproduces the social structure of the place they left, but this

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cohesiveness does not last very long because there is no reason for it doing so. Thus, an intentional community is not simply a family and must initially have some sort of shared vision. It is also standard practice to add a number, usually five, below which we do not use the label intentional community. But this cannot be an absolute. If a smaller number of unrelated people are absolutely convinced that they are a community and share a vision of the life that community is designed to lead, I find it difficult to say that they are wrong.11 And this leads me to reassert my argument that the perceptions and understandings of members must be taken into account in any discussion of intentional communities. There is one other thing that characterizes intentional communities; there must be some sort of community activity. This does not mean that the entire community must come together, although this happens in some communities. It simply means that a perceived community must from time to time function as an actualized community. There are clearly intentional communities of different sorts and we cannot treat all intentional communities as the same. We need different taxonomies and classifications to catch the different types.12 We need to be aware of both differences and similarities, and our definitions and theories must be able to deal with both. Definitions of phenomena like intentional communities work well in the middle but cause controversy as we get near the edges and most of the bothersome questions are around the edges where intentional communities intersect with and shade off into other phenomena. Most of the problems I have identified are in these areas of intersection, and suggests that intentional communities are alive and well and finding new and varied expressions. We should welcome the problems and not worry too much about agreement. What is essential is that we say what we mean, try to be consistent, and not assume that everyone else means what we mean.

11 Lucy Sargisson and I ran up against this issue in our study of intentional communities in New Zealand, and we included a community of four (Sargisson and Sargent 2004, 97–98). 12 Such taxonomies or classifications have been published in Graber and Barrow 2003 and Sargent 1994, 17.

CONTEMPORARY COMMUNALISM AT A TIME OF CRISIS Graham Meltzer  Introduction The 2010 State of the World yearbook from the respected Worldwatch Institute is subtitled, Transforming Cultures: From Consumerism to Sus­ tainability. Described as ‘a subversive volume in all the best ways,’1 it calls for a radical transformation of society and a paradigm shift in values – away from a preoccupation with personal status and material gain, toward a predication upon social and environmental sustainability. This is a huge call! Contemporary culture in almost every country is thoroughly infused with consumerist values that equate human wellbeing with the acquisition of more and more consumer goods. Cultural transformation of any kind is normally very slow let alone when resisted by such powerful forces as those which profit from consumerism. And yet we do not have time. If it is not already too late, the transformation to a more sustainable, less consumerist culture has to happen in the next decade if there is to be any chance of avoiding catastrophe. The one possible hope (which, at time of writing in mid-2011 is looking increasingly likely) is for a global financial meltdown that would stop economic expansion in its tracks. This would be very painful of course but it need not be terminal as a full-blown environmental crisis could conceivably be. In whichever way our uncertain future unfolds, there is little doubt that events and circumstances of the next decades will challenge the human species as never before. We will need to reconsider every aspect of our existence. Resilience2 will become the new currency. The quality of our human relationships will be crucial if we are to salvage a life worth living. In this scenario, the ‘communal idea,’ the central theme of this book, will become more important than ever before. Human beings, if they do not do so willingly, will be forced to collaborate simply in order to survive. 1 Amongst the jacket notes, a quote from Bill McKibben, author of Deep Economy and The End of Nature. 2 Defined as, ‘the capacity of people to cope with stress and adversity,’ resilience has become a catchword for the characteristics and qualities that will be necessary if humans are to endure in an increasingly uncertain future.

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The social technologies developed within intentional communities for a very long time, but particularly over the last fifty years, will come into their own. Should the communal imperative take hold, it could be the saviour of vast numbers of people. This chapter takes a radical, but not unrealistic, view of the role that communalism might play in such a future. It first offers a review of some of the literature confirming the editors’ concerns about a gradual loss of community. The link between social satisfaction and consumerism is then considered. Cohousing is introduced, as a contemporary expression of the communal idea which has the potential to inform and inspire a more sustainable direction for urban life in the 21st Century. The chapter concludes with some tentatively offered ideas for catalysing this transformation that take their cue from cohousing theory and practice.  The Decline of Community ‘Has the communal idea still some message to convey to today’s society?’ This is the principle question being posed by the editors of this book. A culture of individualism, they lament, is as dominant as ever; ‘it even invades communal settings nearly everywhere.’3 This is not a new concern. Ever since the nineteenth century, social scientists have been preoccupied with a phenomenon most commonly termed, the ‘decline of community.’ Back then, Ferdinand Tonnies compared and contrasted two kinds of human association, one based on intimacy, stability and interdependence (Gemeinschaft), the other on self-interest, derived benefit and passing acquaintance (Gesellschaft).4 Sociologists ever since have suggested that society is slowly moving from being broadly based on the former to gaining a predominance of the later (Fromm 1965; Wiesenfeld 1996). Some theorists, however, have suggested that the decline of community is neither linear nor inexorable but more complex than that, perhaps being one of fragmentation or polarisation such that concentrations of both relationship types (Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft) continually relocate, shift and evolve (Hummon 1990). To a considerable extent, the debate is an expression of the differences between those who see community in terms of the idealised, local network of close relationships and 3 Extracted from the rationale for the book distributed to authors. 4 Tonnies, F. (1887) Gemeinschaft und Gesellschaft. A second edition was published in 1912 and a translation titled, Community and Society in 1957.



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those holding a ‘critical communitarian’ perspective which might interpret such a ‘sense of loss’ as nostalgia for an ideal that never really existed (Ife 1997). ‘Those who cling to the ideal community concept have already proclaimed the death of the community’ suggests Chekki (1997:6). Although certain aspects remain contentious, there is considerable empirical evidence confirming a gradual deterioration, particularly during the last half of the twentieth century, of the qualities of human relationship associated with close community life. Yankelovich (1981), for example, found that whilst most Americans had many acquaintances, 70% recognised that they had too few close friends and 40% stated that they had fewer than in the past. A wide ranging survey conducted in 1990 reported that West Australians were concerned about a ‘loss of community’ or ‘loss of identity’ in society, and that rebuilding community relations was one of their highest priorities for the future (Ife 1997). Wiesenfeld (1996) noted that the discipline of community psychology has emerged since World War II precisely because psychologists detected increased feelings of anonymity, alienation and a lost sense of community. Buchanan (1985) went so far as to suggest that the meaning derived from close human relationship was the lost milieu of daily life. Deep and demanding relationships with the immediate community, whose members were inescapably encountered throughout one’s life and daily activities, have been exchanged for the freedom of relative anonymity in more circumscribed relationships and superficial role playing (Buchanan 1985:23).

There appears to be considerable agreement that social and psychological well-being amongst the general population has been reducing for decades due to a slow deterioration in the quality of human relationships. The decline is commonly said to be characterised by: increased loneliness, alienation and rootlessness; increased neurosis, mental depression and lack of purpose; and, reduced levels of trust, charity and participation in community affairs (Bellah et. al. 1996; Berkowitz 1996; Newbrough 1995).  Underlying Causes of Social Decline Industrialisation, urbanization and the hegemony of free market economics are commonly said, at least by leftists, to have caused devastating longterm social consequences for community and cultural life. From about the middle of the Nineteenth Century traditional social institutions were slowly but inexorably subsumed by a new economic order. The rise of

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industrialization demanded a mobile and subservient labour force. ‘In the process of an ever-increasing division of labour, ever-increasing mechanisation of work, and an ever-increasing size of social agglomerations, man [sic] himself became a part of the machine, rather than its master’ (Fromm 1965:355). Over time, the vertical demands of industry supplanted horizontal ties of local dependence, leading to a measurable loss of ‘social capital’,5 which resulted in reduced membership of shrinking numbers of service and charitable organisations. Family, local community and church, as well as established networks of interpersonal relationships, ceased to play a role in coordinating aid, welfare, education and recreation. The corresponding rise of federal and state authorities and agencies in all areas of life led to the ‘successive weakening of national ties, regional ties, family ties, and finally, ties to a coherent image of one’s self’ (Stein 1964:329). Disruption to networking and support had caused a gradual loss of both personal identity and the capacity to lead an enriched and fulfilling life (Ife 1997). Especially since WWII increasingly centralised control deemed necessary for the implementation of neoclassical economic instrumentalities has spawned ‘an increasingly undemocratic politics where the wishes, needs and characteristics of regions, local communities and individuals are overridden and denied’ (Pepper 1991:9). Globalisation coupled with an unprecedented alignment of capital and political interests has disenfranchised and economically disadvantaged vast numbers of people. Local economies have been permanently ruptured; wealth has accumulated in fewer and fewer hands. The ever growing gap between rich and poor has been shown to correlate inversely with levels of social, psychological and physiological wellbeing (Wilkinson 2005). In Italy, Wilkinson (2005) found, participation in community life is least where income differentials are greatest. Some commentators have suggested that individualism per se has underscored social decline and increased personal alienation (Bellah et al. 1996; Hill 1996). As early as the 1830s, de Tocqueville warned of the potential of individualism to undermine social and political institutions in the US. Individualism is a calm and considered feeling which disposes each citizen to isolate himself from the mass of his fellows and withdraw into the circle 5 Social capital is defined by Robert Putnam as the ‘features of social organisations, such as trust, norms and networks, that can improve the efficiency of society by facilitating coordinated action’ (Putnam 1993:167).



contemporary communalism at a time of crisis77 of family and friends; with his little society formed to his own taste, he gladly leaves the greater society to look after itself (de Tocqueville 1969:506).

In the 1920s, Robert and Helen Lynd conducted extensive sociological research of ‘Middletown’, USA, looking at the impact of industrialisation and the accompanying social change (Lynd and Lynd 1929; Lynd and Lynd 1937). They viewed with foreboding the rise of a new class of industrialists and managers with a dominant individualistic ethos that they believed threatened traditional cultural norms and participatory citizenship. Some social scientists have associated social decline with the very structure of middle-class society, which induces, amongst other pathologies, a perceived lack of control over one’s choices and a belief that the per­ vading social order is somehow ‘natural’ (Rigby 1974). Others have blamed increased mobility in modern society with a decline in satisfactory human association, shallow social relationships and an indifference to community problems. Wilkinson (1973:181), for example, suggested that, The figures for mobility in industrial Britain and America must be taken as an indication of a much lower level of social interaction, community and neighbourliness. Mobile people cannot get to know their neighbours or even their relatives as well as if they had lived in close proximity to them all their lives

Whatever the perception of its underlying causes, there is a widespread prevailing belief that ‘something inherent in modern…society has robbed from us our sense of community, and that we need to do something drastic to get it back’ (Hill 1996:436).  From Consumerism to Communalism Consumerism, a ‘preoccupation with consumer goods and their acquisition’6 derives from a fundamental tenet of capitalist ideology, namely, the association of personal self-fulfillment and happiness with the possession and consumption of material goods. Over the last 150 years, human values have fundamentally shifted from ‘the world of life and its productivity’ to ‘the world of things and their amassment’ (Fromm 1965:95). Fulfillment of need became dissociated from productive human activity and aligned instead with the consumption, not only of commodities, but also entertainment and substances. Basic human qualities of creativity, service and 6 New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary (1993).

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a sense of oneself as a useful member of society were supplanted with a measure of one’s economic worth or saleability in the marketplace (Fromm 1965). This left a psychological and cultural void that filled with ‘manufactured images, fiction and fantasy, [which] substitute increasingly for a disappearing social reality’ (Wilkinson 1973:182). Environmentalists often argue that social satisfaction can (and must) be substituted for material acquisition; the specious satisfaction offered by consumption needs to be replaced with satisfaction of a non-material kind. There is some, limited empirical support for this possibility. Cowell (1994) has shown that social ties can influence individual and household decisions about patterns of consumption, although he does not investigate levels of consumption, as such. He found that residents with strong social bonds are more likely to shop locally than those with lesser ties. ‘Neoclassical economic models assume that individuals and households make economic decisions on the basis of self-interest. These findings suggest, however, that social ties play a role in these decisions’ (Cowell 1994:654). Kunstler (1993) similarly correlated sense of community with the health of a localised economy. Social relations, he suggested, are closely tied to economic interdependency. There is a nexus between relationships of support commonly associated with community, the wellbeing of members, and the vitality of a local culture and economy. The normative values of industrialised societies have, of course, always had their detractors. Many of the most disaffected have elected not to participate in conventional, individualistic society, opting instead to live alternative communal lifestyles of opposing values and norms. For 2000 years, but mostly over the last 250, communal groups have effectively lived outside the mainstream. Particularly since the 1960s, many such groups have ‘dropped out,’ enjoying a palpable ‘sense of community’ unavailable, or at least uncommon, in the strongly individualistic and privatised mainstream. Although it is not always made explicit, most intentional communities since the 1960s have held ‘green’ values (Metcalf 1999; Miller 1999; Kirk 2007). Unlike environmentalists in the mainstream, however, members have generally been able to apply their values in day-to-day life. They live more simply than ‘normal’ in smaller, less elaborate dwellings and with fewer material possessions. They consume less, emit less carbon, recycle more of their waste, and generally live with much less impact on the environment. Bouvard (1975) went as far as to claim that members of intentional communities were environmentalists by definition and that living in harmony with nature was an axiom of the movement.



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Communal settlements then, offer the perfect setting for substitut­ ing  psychological attachment to material gain with social satisfaction. Anti-consumerist values are, in fact, common amongst members of intentional communities and axiomatic for many sectarian, anarcho-socialist and alternative lifestyle groups. In the seminal Blueprint for Survival, Goldsmith et al. (1972) speculated that small-scale communities would enable individuals to overcome atomisation and anonymity because human relationships would be deeper and more empathetic. The social rewards offered by community life, they suggested, would provide ample compensation for reduced consumption. Community-based relationships, in combination with a renewed sense of citizenship, would supplant consumerist desires and attachment to material goods. In a future ecological society, they said, ‘rapid accumulation will no longer be a realisable or indeed socially acceptable goal and alternative satisfaction will have to be sought’ (Goldsmith et al. 1972: para 263).  Introduction to Cohousing ‘Cohousing’ is a new kind of intentional community. Typically, members reside in a purpose-built, multiple housing project with prototypical neighbourhood layout and distinctive architectural and site planning features. Cohousing was first developed in Denmark and the Netherlands during the 1970s, spread through Scandinavia during the ‘80s, and took root in the United States and Canada in the ‘90s. Uptake in Australia, New Zealand and Britain has been slower and more modest. Cohousing is still nascent in Southern Europe, South Africa, Japan and Korea. Cohousing has arisen in precise response to the above-mentioned social problems of the late twentieth century i.e. personal anonymity and alienation and the breakdown of community. Indeed, this is the basis for their being called intentional communities. Groups form with the principal inten­ tion of creating a socially cohesive and mutually supportive community. Cohousing integrates autonomous private dwellings with shared utilities and recreational facilities such as kitchens, dining halls, workshops and children’s play facilities. Residents utilise their shared facilities to establish a rich community life of social, recreational, cultural and work activities. Probably the most important communal activity, valued for both its practical advantage and symbolic meaning, is the common or shared meal, held regularly on particular nights of the week. Cohousing groups attach considerable importance to a participatory development process whereby residents organise and get involved in the

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planning and design of their project. This can take between one and five years, or even more, but typically groups take between two and three years from their inception to the date of initial occupation. Thousands of hours of meetings and the participation of many people are involved in the process. In the spirit in which cohousing is designed and built, cohousing residents take responsibility for the self-management of the project once construction is completed and the project occupied. This involves the residents in almost all activities and duties required for the smooth day-to-day running of the community. Apropos their participation in community life, Field (1999) identifies a further distinctive characteristic of cohousing not common to other types of intentional community. He suggests that cohousing communities pay particular attention to what he calls ‘sustainable dynamics’. Primarily, this is a function of their size. They aim to be large enough to allow members to occasionally withdraw from the group without jeopardising its functioning or social dynamics, but, not too large that members cannot get to know one other through regular participation in community life. It was suggested above, that living with less, in a simpler way, is so contrary to deeply ingrained values and aspirations (of material comfort and personal status) as to be difficult for most Westerners to comprehend, let alone enact. To some extent, this even applies to cohousing residents. Members generally have the middle-class aspirations of home ownership and a comfortable lifestyle. Most are encumbered with mortgages and, hence, locked into commuting to conventional jobs. Meltzer (2000) has shown that for most cohousing residents, living with less in a simpler way is largely learned or adopted via the influence of community-based structures and deepening social relations. Priorities change in cohousing as individuals and households are prompted to reassess their essential needs (Hollick 1997). They will be forced to ask themselves, Do we really want a large house with guest rooms, games rooms, play rooms, exercise rooms, and party-sized living rooms to clean? Or do we want to be able to accommodate guests, play games or exercise when we wish, have somewhere for the children to make a noise and a mess, and a convenient place to throw a party? Do we really want a kitchen full of gadgets, or have delicious meals as easily as possible? Do we really want an electronic security system and deadlatches on every aperture, or do we want a safe environment in which to live? Do we really want our homes to be our castles, or do we want loving human relationships? Do we really want an automobile, or do we want easy and convenient access to jobs, shops, leisure and cultural activities and friends? Do we really want exotic vacations in distant lands, or a satisfying, stress-free life in beautiful surroundings? (Hollick 1997:105)



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It is true that our conditioning makes close living and sharing difficult, both physically and in relationship to others. Sharing requires trust, but trust is built on sharing. Unfortunately, trust in conventional social and political institutions has been almost completely eroded. Rebuilding trust at the level of community is a slow and painstaking process. Yet, whether or not it forms part of their mission statement, this is implicitly what cohousing groups seek. They strive to develop trust in each other and the group’s institutions, which encourages sharing and cooperation, practical and emotional support, and generosity of spirit. Over time, this can lead to more caring and intimate social relations that can diffuse instilled preoccupations with individual material well-being and turn the focus outward toward the welfare of significant others. This brings home the need to maintain and improve the quality of the surrounding physical environment for the benefit of those significant others, which is itself a form of environmentalism.7  Cohousing and Social Change To what extent does the process of transformation within cohousing inform the process of social change generally? After all, that cohousing facilitates personal growth in its members does not necessarily mean that it can, or will, contribute to social change within broader society. It is certainly feasible that a community-based social awareness could be as inwardly focused as a more conventional preoccupation with well-being of self and family. Western liberalism’s exaggerated individualism combined with a materialist worldview has bred the American, Australian or Western European ‘dream’ focused on ever increasing private wealth. Might not cohousing communities develop a parallel preoccupation with their own welfare whilst remaining unconcerned about broader social and environmental issues? There is one characteristic in particular that distinguishes cohousing from many, if not most other intentional communities, namely, its close relationship to wider society. This is perhaps cohousing’s most significant deviation from communitarian tradition and its basis is a matter of principle, being a different reading of the process of social change. Cohous­ ing  members believe that introversion and withdrawal from society is 7 See Meltzer (2005) for a thorough discussion of the nexus between empowerment and environmentalism.

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counter-productive. Unlike its predecessor communities, cohousing is a mainstream option, and intentionally so. It is not an alternative lifestyle, but one deemed appropriate for the broad majority of people. Most projects are urban or suburban and residents strive to connect with neighbours and contribute to local economic, cultural and political life. Com­ munities believe they can maintain internal social cohesion despite the potential tension between members’ commitment to community life and their association with the world beyond. Some cohousing groups have contributed to the rejuvenation of depressed urban precincts whilst others have led pro-environmental activism in their region. Many groups have invited and/or gained widespread media exposure, bringing increasing mainstream awareness of the social and environmental advantages of community living (Sandhill 1997). Cohousing is visible to wider society and seen not to threaten traditional family or liberal values. For this reason, the influence of cohousing will ultimately not be limited to that of the communities that get built. It has the potential to inform future human settlement way beyond the fuzzy edges of the cohousing movement itself. Cohousing can, perhaps, be seen to exemplify the ‘New Community’ forms envisaged by Poulter and How (1991), which differ from past models in the way in which they relate to the wider world. Instead of withdrawing, they suggested, New Communities will engage with society and ‘make a conscious effort to pull the ‘reality’ of the world towards a new ‘vision’’ (Poulter and How 1991:26).  Cohousing and Sustainable Urban Development It remains to be seen just how popular cohousing will become. Butcher (1995) suggests that the involvement of project developers in the creation of cohousing shows that ‘community’ can have currency in the capitalist marketplace. He anticipates ‘the realization of more of an intentional culture…through the application of the communitarian concept to the American Dream’ (Butcher 1995:8). Futurist, Faith Popcorn has little doubt that cohousing will become widespread. We think co-housing will Click [sic] in the decade and century ahead. In place of real estate agents, we’ll have Co-housing Counsellors, akin to certified social workers, who will match up would-be neighbors or housemates. We’ll have Co-housing Clearinghouses on the Internet or 900- number phone lines, where people can post openings in co-housing communities and screen applicants. And maybe someday we’ll be watching the evening



contemporary communalism at a time of crisis83 news on Election Night and hear reports on how the ‘co-housing vote’ is swinging. Because co-housing – and the tightly knit new Clans that it creates – promises to be that big a phenomenon (Popcorn and Marigold 1996:2).

Even if cohousing does not become as widespread as some observers envisage, it still has the potential to powerfully inform the theory and practice of ecologically sustainable development (ESD). It has much to contribute, for example, to the ongoing debate over housing density and resource consumption. Cohousing projects are generally characterised by their careful allocation of resources; minimising private dwelling space in order to maximise shared facilities and collective opportunities. Suburban cohousing projects have a similar density to many medium-density (condominium) developments, but demonstrate improved land-use efficiency through the clustering of buildings and limiting of vehicular access to accommodate vocational, social, and recreational activity within a walk of members’ homes (Meltzer 2005). Space is created for com­munityscale organic vegetable gardening, composting and recycling. Cohousing demonstrates, above all else, a civilised way to live in dense, urban situations where the pressures of propinquitous living with stressed human beings might otherwise lead to increasing anxiety and social dysfunction. The importance of practical models of sustainable development such as cohousing cannot be underestimated. Capra (1984:194) warned of impending ecological disaster for the ‘polluted, nuclearized, economically imperiled societies’ of the West. He argued that the literature on the subject, the ‘outpouring of books and articles that, taken together, are unique in the world for the breadth and depth of the new-paradigm solutions they propose,’ is being ineffective for the want of more concrete examples of sustainability theory being applied in practice. Recent developments in Danish housing support Capra’s argument. The visible success of cohousing in Denmark has resulted in many of its features being incorporated into mainstream social housing as well as new neighbourhoods of private sector housing (Bamford 1995). Indeed nowadays, little Danish housing is built that is not informed by cohousing design and practice. Measures adopted include: the provision of shared social space and facilities enabling smaller private dwellings, the integration of workplace, residential and recreational functions, cooperative childcare arrangements, increased housing options for non-nuclear households, and increased social opportunities for marginalised groups such as the elderly, disabled, low income etc.

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Altman (1980) believes that the rise of social activism, since the 1960s, signifies the emergence of a grass-roots or alternative culture that prefigures a ‘new sort of society.’ In a period of crisis, Altman argues, such an alternative worldview or paradigm would likely bring about a subversion of existing values, confrontation with existing structures and prefiguring of new values and practices. Hutton and Connors (1999:4) similarly note that such social movements ‘affect norms by producing counter-ideologies which challenge the status quo and transform institutions; this symbolic challenge contributes to our understandings of how new discourses are generated and adopted’. Yet, both Altman and Hutton/Connors would argue that whilst these strategies and outcomes contest the status quo, they are not revolutionary. ‘Social movements cannot exist without contestation’ suggest Hutton and Connors (1999:7), ‘but they are not the sources of social breakdown and chaos that their opponents imagine them to be’. They note that although social activists seek to expand civil society and to address relations of power between society and the State, they are not interested in a ‘frontal assault’ on the State. They value democracy and plurality, and prefer instead, to raise fundamental ‘moral’ concerns – peaceful non-exploitative relations, the integrity of the environment, rights of equity, access and participation etc. The kind of future society evoked by radical Greens and some futurists is variously referred to as post-industrial society, post-scarcity society, post materialist society, post carbon society etc. For some, the vision is apocalyptic. Others, more optimistic, anticipate a Schumacherian, ‘small is beautiful,’ scenario of people in small groups taking ‘better care of their land while resisting greed and envy and embracing nonviolence in an atmosphere of egalitarianism’ (Brudenell 1983:249). For the purposes of this book chapter, such an ecologically and socially sustainable future society will be termed ecocommunalist. As mentioned above, members of intentional communities since the 1960s have generally understood and embraced this imperative (Metcalf 1999; Miller 1999; Kirk 2007) whilst, it seems, most people in the mainstream have hardly seen the point. Ecocommunalism is utopian in the sense of ‘envisaging and then implementing consciously derived social alternatives’ (Metcalf 1995:7). So how might such seemingly radical ideas and strategies gain purchase in dense urban centres and sprawling suburbs? Eckersley argues that utopian values and aspirations can only spread if they connect with people’s



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experience, as opposed to being ‘mere mental compensation for, or a means of escape from, the shortcomings of the status quo’ (Eckersley 1992:186). One proven means of promoting utopian possibilities in this way is through cultural (artistic and creative) expression. Delicath (1996) notes a tradition amongst radicals and utopians of presenting ‘cultural rhetorics’ in literature, art, music, and film. Contemporary ‘eco-utopian’ visions, he argues, ‘cannot ignore cultural sensibilities’ and should include attempts to cultivate ecoliteracy through art, literature and the mass media (Delicath 1996:164). Festivals have proven particularly effective in raising social and ecological awareness. An exemplary illustration of the power of cultural expression to diffuse ecoliteracy and a sense of community is played out annually at the Woodford Folk Festival held in Queensland, Australia.8 The wonder of Woodford is that for six days in the heat of summer, 100,000 Australians come together in complete social harmony. Despite the challenging conditions, there is no apparent crime, hardly an angry word spoken, and little disrespect of the environment. Those attending are of every background, colour and political persuasion. Woodford provides a window into a world where ethnic tradition is treasured, racial diversity is celebrated, political difference is respected and people of every kind enjoy each other’s company. Hippies rub shoulders with conservative politicians, blacks with One Nation9 supporters, ferals with farmers. Some of the human spectra represented are; black-white, young-elderly, straight-gay, radical-conservative, alternative-mainstream. Indeed the blurring of traditional polarities is such that they almost entirely lose their meaning. The musical and artistic expression is important of course. Woodford provides an opportunity for a rich sharing of cultural expression of all kind. Musicians, poets, storytellers, artists, craftspeople, academics, traditional elders, religious leaders and the great unrecognised, all openly share their skills, knowledge and wisdom in workshops, forums and participatory performance. The Woodford ambience encourages widespread cross-pollination of artistic expression such that even for the professionals, the greatest reward is likely to come from spontaneous performance and ad hoc combinations of artists where ideas are developed, boundaries extended, and fresh enthusiasm gained. I suspect that it’s at events such as Woodford that cultural and artistic expression profoundly moves forward and becomes richer. Established traditions are reinforced and new ones initiated.

8 What follows is extracted from an article written by the author following the 1997 festival. 9 One Nation was an ultra-conservative (some would say, racist) political party that came and went in the 1990s.

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Woodford provides a safe environment for the exploration of ‘alternative’ values. Each year, many first-time festival-goers experience the social cohesion and generosity of spirit that pervades the festival. Many leave the event having reassessed their own privatized, material lifestyles in the light of the ‘sense of community’ that the festival generates.  Catalysing the Ecocommunalist Vision It has been said that there are three ways to establish community: take a walk around your neighbourhood; take a walk around your neighbourhood; and, take a walk around your neighbourhood. In other words, the deepening of interpersonal relationships should precede or at least accompany practical community-building measures in order to improve their viability and effectiveness. ‘Social development,’ as Ife (1997) calls it, should focus on the quality of social interaction in a community rather than the provision of social services. A social development program might simply facilitate people talking to each other and interacting more in everyday life (Ife 1997). ‘Consciousness raising offered by everyday interactions’ notes Ife, ‘can be the beginning of a deeper … dialogue, and can be a first step towards effectively empowering a person to become active at community level’ (Ife 1997:149). Such meaningful human exchange is often experienced spontaneously in local events such as farmers’ markets, street festivals, car boot sales, block parties and the like. It’s at the scale of the, street, neighbourhood, suburb or locality that authentic human association is most likely to occur. In the process, enduring connections may be made and effective collaboration initiated. Once trust and mutual support is established, if mixed with a little imagination and courage, many of the measures being pioneered in cohousing could conceivably be implemented by groups of collaborators in more conventional settings. It is feasible that the availability of a shared community house containing social, workshop and office space would enable people’s social and vocational aspirations to be met efficiently and affordably. ‘Without such a focal point,’ argues Ife (1997:137), ‘it is hard to see how a good deal of other community development could take place.’ A community house, set within community gardens, would offer a relaxed, informal setting for food production, childcare, education, healthcare, skills development, referral, advocacy, group discussions and so on. It would act as a catalyst, resulting in further increasing levels of trust, which might lead to the causal sharing of vehicles, tools and household goods.



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This might, at some point, become formalised through the establish­ ment of lending lists or ‘libraries’ of gardening and woodworking tools, washing machines, lawn mowers, recreational equipment, books, games, bicycles, computers and so on. Through community self-management of such resources, mutual support networks would be established and strengthened. Alternatively, in lieu of such ‘libraries,’ a particular person or household might take responsibility on behalf of the community for the storage, care and maintenance of particular items. This not only establishes community ownership and responsibility, but also creates a role for a person in the community, perhaps someone with little other purpose who might otherwise feel marginalised (Ife 1997). ‘The decline of community has seen the loss of many such roles, and re-creating them is an important function of community development’ says Ife (1997:184). Such measures negate normative values of private ownership and consumerism, which form the main obstacle to collaborative alternatives. Their implementation is essential ‘if we are to move towards a society where there is a lower level of material consumption (which from an ecological point of view is inevitable) without a corresponding reduction in the quality of life’ (Ife 1997:184). Ife notes the importance of due process in the management of community resources, suggesting that participation will only be encouraged if communities redefine traditional decision-making processes and formal meeting procedures. He suggests that conventional managerial practices can be alienating and excluding and notes that more inclusive, consensus-based processes (common in cohousing) can overcome disincentives to participation (Ife 1997). As community development takes effect and relationships of trust are established – along with agreements and instrumentalities that ensure fair and due process – more radical changes could be considered. Communities comprising several neighbourhoods (at the scale of the district, perhaps) might grasp the authority and take the responsibility to initiate and manage resources and services in a way that best suits their purposes. Schools, libraries, halls, shops, parks and recreational facilities could become the responsibility of the community rather than a single bureaucratic or commercial interest. This would serve to better integrate and coordinate community activities and facilitate the acquisition, production and distribution of essential resources. The latent human resources of the community could be used to provide readily accessible services to help solve individual and collective problems. In the process, professional monopolies would be dismantled and the contribution of all

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community members would be more valued. Education, for example, could be the responsibility of many people, not just professional educators. People would learn from each other in different contexts and at all stages of their lives, not just when they are young. Health and welfare needs of all kinds could be dealt with at the community level. Dependents might be the community’s responsibility, rather than the family’s or the State’s, and their needs would be met locally. When people needed practical, social or emotional support, they could turn to those with whom they were familiar. The possibility of an alternative, grass-roots strategy for transform­ ing  the suburbs along ecocommunalist lines has already been demonstrated by N-Street Cohousing, the so-called retro-fit cohousing project in Davis, California, that started in the mid-1980s when neighbours opted to remove a fence between them in order to garden their back­ yards collaboratively. They were politically progressive and socially ambi­ tious;  via shared meals, social interaction and good communication, they soon established a cohousing-like culture years before the word, cohousing, was even invented. Over time, more and more neighbours who saw the value of greater sharing and collaboration joined the group simply by removing perimeter fences and committing to community life. Each household contributed a facility they shared with the whole community, such as a workshop, laundry, sauna etc. They transformed their amalgamated backyards into a flourishing shared garden of edible delights. Households and common facilities were linked with a flagstone path meandering throughout a lush permaculture of groundcover, flowers, vegetables, shrubs and trees. The pathway, built with sweat equity in 1993, and extended since as necessary, remains a physical and symbolic reminder of the bonds of community, ‘tying us all together in practical ways; aesthetic ways; perceptual, emotional ways; and in creating a real sense of flow and open connection between us all,’ suggested one member (Smith 1998:54). The ground floor of one building eventually became a dedicated common house. Over time, the community established all the facilities, systems and rich cultural life found in orthodox (new-built) cohousing projects, but by much more affordable means (See Meltzer 2005 for more detail). The need for affordable and socially responsive housing is, and will increasingly become, a major factor in the development of sustainable urban communities. Yet there are few, if any areas, where the contrast between conventional (consumerist) approaches and sustainable alternatives is as great. So much so, that the provision of affordable (let alone,



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socially and environmentally appropriate) housing is beyond the capabilities of conventional institutions and processes. N-Street Cohousing has demonstrated an effective grass-roots strategy for delivering what conventional housing instruments likely cannot – affordable and genuinely sustainable community architecture, arisen from within the community itself.  Concluding Comments At time of writing in June 2011, the signs are stark; we are about to be hit by a perfect storm – a confluence of accelerating climate change, a global monetary crisis and the sweeping consequences of peak oil. Life as we know it will change forever. Many of the world’s most respected thinkers believe that such an upheaval or ‘revolution’ (one often compared with the Agrarian and Industrial Revolutions) has already begun.10 If met with human resilience borne of intelligence and compassion, the transformation will ultimately lead to an agreeable, ecocommunalist future. If not, or where not, the fallout could be apocalyptic. It is not the purpose of this polemic to paint a comprehensive picture of an ecocommunalist or any other future scenario. Debate about the form and fabric of a future sustainable society can only ever be speculative. There can be no best, optimal, preferred or otherwise pre-empted development trajectory, let alone a pre-determined outcome. Nor is a sustainable society ever going to be static. Growth and change are inevitable and desirable characteristics of any human endeavour. Yet, a vision of a better world is necessary in order that the first step in the journey be taken with optimism. Let there be no doubt that the ‘communal idea’ will play a central role in its unfolding. ‘We are moving from a world created by privilege to a world created by community’ says Paul Hawken (2009:194) in his book, Blessed Unrest: How the Largest Movement in the World Came into Being and Why No One Saw It Coming. As the subtitle of the book unequivocally declares, the transition is already well underway. And cohousing, I believe, is at its cutting edge! 10 The coming ‘revolution’ has been variously called the: Ecological Revolution (Lester Brown), Sustainability Revolution (Donella Meadows), Great Work (Thomas Berry), Great Turning (Joanna Macy), Great U-Turn (Edward Goldsmith), Long Transition (David Hicks), Long Descent (John Greer), Long Emergency (James Kunstler), Blessed Unrest (Paul Hawken), Sacred Demise (Carolyn Baker) and, most colourfully, the Slo-mo-splat (Richard Heinberg).

COMMUNE AND COMMUNITY: A SOCIALIST PERSPECTIVE Yiftah Goldman  Introduction Since it first appeared in the 19th century, Socialism has had an ambivalent attitude towards the concept of “community”. It may be said that this ambivalence is a mirror image of the attitude of Socialism to the legacy of classic Enlightenment (or the great bourgeois philosophy). Socialism had inherited from this tradition its universalism, meaning its commitment to a total liberation of all humanity without difference of religion, race, nationality, or any other group belonging. Due to its commitment to universalism, Socialism suspects any particular belonging group of placing the partial over the universal; that its members find (or believe to find) private salvation for themselves within the distorted reality, and hence relinquish the struggle for changing this reality – the struggle for the salvation of humanity. Any particular belonging creates a particular loyalty, and this might come at the expense of loyalty to the general public. Furthermore: the struggle for general liberation was perceived by Enlight­enment and in its wake by Socialism, as a political struggle. The concrete community offers a field of apolitical and even anti-political activity, and as such it competes with the political struggle over the resources of time, energy and attention of liberationseekers. It may be said that the only community that classic Enlightenment was willing to acknowledge was the “community of mankind”: for those enlightened human-beings, who are the citizens of an enlightened humanity, the “community of all human-beings” shall be the only binding framework for belonging, morally and perhaps legally as well. An image of this sort appeared in the visions of the enlightened philosophers.1 It is also partially reflected in the great political documents of the revolutionary bourgeoisie, such as the ‘Dec­laration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen’ of the French revolution, and the American ‘Declaration of 1 The most pronounced expressions of this can be found in the philosophy of Immanuel Kant, and specifically in his books ‘Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals’ (Kant 1949) and ‘To Perpetual Peace’ (Kant 2003).

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Independence’. In later generations this approach also greatly characterized Socialism. However, Socialism is a critical heir to the tradition of Enlightenment. It has criticized Enlightenment for having sufficed itself with an abstract realization of the values of liberty, equality and fraternity. Socialism claimed that these values must be able to meet the test of concreteness: they must be realized as part of the concrete life-reality of concrete people. Add to this an adherence to the Aristotelian principle, according to which Man is a social animal2 (an adherence that did not characterize classic Enlightenment, but definitely characterized a large majority of Socialist writing), and the result is an affirmation of community. The “community of all human-beings” is an abstract concept, and if humanbeings wish to realize equality, liberty, and fraternity in their immediate, concrete, lives, they require concrete communities in order to do so. This does not mean that Socialism renounced universalism, but that the universal belonging to all humanity should, in order to be real, be a mediated belonging. Concrete communities and federations of concrete communities are mediating frameworks necessary in order to intermediate between the individual and society. Hence, in a way, every socialist is a communitarian3 (although not every communitarian is a socialist). When Raymond Williams writes: ‘How it could be that people should not want to live in real community. I mean, is it not so clearly a much better way to live?’ (Williams 1989, 119) He expresses a bewilderment that every socialist holds true, or at least should hold true. Socialism assumes, then, that the concrete community is an essential component of ‘the good society’ but is doubtful as to the role of the concrete community in the stage of the struggle for the establishment of such a society. For many socialists, the ambivalence is solved by “splitting” it over time: in the present, in the stage of the struggle against bourgeois regime, Socialism must be a-communal or even anti-communal: activists must devote themselves to a political-revolutionary struggle, and not to the formation of community life. In the next stage, the historical stage to follow the longed-for revolution, and after the proper basis is laid, 2 Aristotle wrote ‘political animal’ (Aristotle 1997, 11, [1253a]) but we must remember that in the language of a 4th century BC Greek, the word “Polis” denotes at one and the same time “state”, “society”, “city”, and “community”. 3 I use here the term “communitarian” widely, as a name for anyone attaching a great importance to the existence of communities and supporting the confirmation of communal life in the modern age (and not with the strict meaning of the theoretical current to which belong Amitai Etzioni, Robert Bellah, Michael Walzer, etc.).



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Socialism shall transform itself from a “project of struggle” to a “project of creation”, and shall constructively engage in establishing communities and federations of communities. The social thought of Karl Marx is perhaps the most pronounced example of such a dichotomy: Socialism as a political struggle up to the revolution, and Socialism as a collaborative communal creation after it. But Marx was not alone. His fierce opponents from the anarchist faction actually held on to a similar concept (although in their theory, the political struggle was to be waged “outside” of parliament…).4 During the first third of the 20th century anarchists ceased to be a significant faction within Socialism, and the leftist parties were divided between “revolutionary-communists”, who allegedly remained loyal to Marx, and reformist-social-democrats, who followed Edward Bernstein.5 However, once more the rival factions were similar to one another in that they posited politics at the heart of the current socialist action, and deferred the construction of communities to some future stage, talk of which was always vague. Indeed, the social-democratic governments in Western- and Northern-Europe sinned in “repressing” the communal character of Socialism less than the communist governments in the East. This is perhaps one of the reasons for the fact that the Socialism these governments were able to realize was more humane and sustainable (and, in fact, closer to the one Marx had envisioned), than what was realized in the communist states. There were also other trends in Socialism; trends for which the community was an essential component of the struggle for liberation, and not only part of the liberated society. For these trends, the immediate formation of communities and of federations of communities is an important part of the struggle – perhaps even the most important part. Martin Buber’s book “Paths in Utopia” is a prominent example for such Communal

4 A popular mistake is that the anarchists opposed political action. As early as 1893, at the Socialist International Congress in Zurich, the English anarchist Mowbray made a sharp distinction between “political activity” and “parliamentary activity”, and claimed that anarchists only oppose parliamentarism, but are no less political than their Marx­ ist  friends-rivals. Mowbray is quoted in ‘Anarchic Thoughts on Anarchism” by Gustav Landauer (Landauer 2010). 5 This distinction between “revolutionaries” and “reformists” is not the topic of this text. I shall hence make do with a short note: I deny the claim popular among communists as if Lenin was the consistent follower of Marx, while Bernstein “deviated” from Marxism. Moreover: it is my opinion that late West-European social-democracy, and especially of the strand that was form in the Scandinavian countries, is the political movement that is the closest to the thought of Marx – this and not the bureaucratic-statist communism that was formed in East-Europe.

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Socialism (Buber 1958). The Kibbutzim movement followed this path, and in a different manner – so did the reformist wing of syndicalism, and several sub-trends of anarchism. Cooperative movements such as the federation of cooperatives in Mondragon also come to mind in this context. It is interesting to note that all of these movements, which viewed communal life as a path for the realization of Socialism, found themselves on the fringe of the socialist camp, and some were even suspected of being totally “un-socialist”.6 The principled concept of every socialist, according to which human beings should live in communities, and these communities are reserved a central role in the formation of the social, economic, political, and cultural ways of life, was not translated into immediate practical directives in the central trends of Socialism. In the last decades of the 20th century a grave crisis haunted all of these trends. Soviet communism crashed with a big bang, and WestEuropean social democracy sank into an ugly dying (except, perhaps, the Scandinavian countries). The place of these two was overtaken by a new, forceful, violent, and more savage capitalism than that known to the founders of Socialism. It is possible that Socialism could have, at this time of crisis, offered new answers, if it had returned to raise the flag of its repressed communal components. However, it is hard to overlook the fact that at virtually the same time when social democracy in the West and communism in the East collapsed, in Israel collapsed one of the most impressive experiments of Communal Socialism in the 20th century: the Kibbutzim movement. At the onset of the second decade of the 21st century, the present of Socialism seems gloomy, and its future is in the mist. Many say that Socialism has been dead and buried for years. However, the truth is that Socialism cannot die as long as capitalism is alive (or at least as long as the spirit of capitalism critique is alive). Capitalism is a clear and present danger to the welfare of the inhabitants of the world and to their happiness. In recent generations it has also become a threat to the mere survival of humanity. There is no progressive critique of capitalism (to set it apart from reactionary critiques of it), which is not greatly based on Socialism, and there is no progressive struggle against capitalism that is 6 Fascism researcher, the Israeli scholar Zeev Sternhell, presented a comprehensive critique along these lines regarding the Zionist Labor Movement in general, and regarding the Kibbutzim movement in particular. He claims that these were movements that acted towards the realization of national aspirations, which were dressed up in a Socialist “costume” (Sternhell 1998).



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not a socialist struggle. Every critical stance towards capitalism, and every movement for social change that exists today, either adopts important principles of Socialism (sometimes without knowing), or is nothing more than a seeming-critique, a sheep in a lion’s skin, an intellectual game of “criticism”, which is an expression of the capitalist method much more than a challenge to it (Jameson 1991). Socialism cannot, therefore, be dispensed with. Can it be revived and made relevant? And can this be done by infusing new blood into the degenerated communal veins of Socialism? It is these questions that I shall attempt to examine in the following pages.  Commune or Community? The term “community” was a central concept in sociology ever since it first appeared as a science in the second half of the 19th century. The German scholar Ferdinand Tönnies is considered one of the scientists to have laid the foundations for modern sociology, mainly thanks to his book “Gemeinschaft und Gesellschaft” (“Community and Civil Society”) from 1887 (Tönnies 2001). Throughout the 20th century scientific interest in “community” knew ups and downs (Day 2006, 26–56). No less a tumultuous life was experienced by the communities themselves, which became extinct, were resurrected and assumed new forms along with the intensification of the processes of industrialization, urbanization, democratization, and technological development in the Western world. Commu­ nitarianism as a major trend in sociology in Western countries since the 1980’s, and the widespread use of the concept of “community” nowadays, in various social, political and cultural contexts, shows that the rumors regarding the demise of community, spread by Ferdinand Tönnies and his colleagues, the founders of the science of sociology, were exaggerated. However, even if community is not dead, the concept of “community” is very vague, and has been attributed so many different meanings, that there is room for doubt as to whether it still denotes any special significance. When Ferdinand Tönnies, on the one hand, speaks of a small village or an extended family as a “community”; and Amitai Etzioni – from the other end of a century of sociology – speaks of the populations of Scotland or the southern United States as a “community” (Etzioni 1996, 10), does the term itself still teach us anything? And in politics – when the right, the center, and the left all sing the praise of community, is this not a sign that the concept was fully exhausted and vacated of any specific meaning?

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And yet, the widespread use of the term “community”, as much as it points to the difficulty that the concept raises, also points to the inability to dispose with it.7 Even if it is impossible to provide a sufficient definition for the concept of “community”, perhaps we may clarify the role of the community from a socialist point of view (which is the point of view of this chapter). Community is important, inasmuch as Socialism is concerned, to the extent that it offers an alternative to three major trends in modern times, which according to Socialism are maleficent and thwart the potentials for liberation of Man and society. These trends are the market economy, arena politics, and mass society. The term “market economy” denotes here the main characteristic of modern capitalist economy: the entire array of production and distribution of commodities for the fulfillment of human needs (needs of existence and other needs) organized as a market of sellers and buyers. Relationships between people operating in the commodities and services market are market relations. Each individual acts in accordance with the market principle: they make an effort to buy cheap and sell expensive (their labor or possessions). The term “arena politics” denotes here the dominant pattern in modern politics, even the most democratic and decent – the arena pattern. Human beings enter the public sphere and the process of public decision-making, as though they were entering a boxing ring. They fight each other in the ring in order to realize their private objectives in a sort of “zero sum game”. As part of the political struggle they often form coalitions and alliances, and most conflicts end with a compromise and not in an absolute victory of any of the parties. However, even the compromise does not undermine the arena logic of a “zero sum game” – it only distributes the winnings and losses among the participants (it appears that arena politics and the market economy act according to the same principle: one person’s win is the other’s loss). A “mass society” means a society lacking any concrete frameworks of belonging (or a society in which the concrete frameworks of belonging rapidly lose their importance). Every individual is part of the mass. She functions, communicates, receives orders, makes a stand, makes private decisions and participates in public decisions as part of a mass – as an anonymous, statistically negligible being. The mass society is a coordinated mechanism, functioning flawlessly. Individuals find their place in it, but are almost always invisible: no one sees them, their totality, and their unique 7 For a discussion of the problems inherent in the concept of “community”, and its importance, see: Day 2006, 1–25.



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personality that cannot be depicted by statistics. And they do not see others either. As mentioned, community has value as far as Socialism is concerned only to the extent to which it presents an alternative to these three trends. Community must be a place where human beings meet to do something together, to realize some common good, and not only buy, sell, and fight one another for the realization of private interests. No less importantly: it must be a humane framework in which the individual has a chance to be heard and seen, to make a real (rather than statistic) difference, and to receive feedback from her partners for that influence. It must be a place where a true meeting takes place. It is doubtful whether the populations “residents of Scotland” or “residents of southern United States” (to cling to the examples provided by Amitai Etzioni mentioned earlier) can be considered a community according to these distinctions. Examples that come to mind more readily are things like a school, a neighborhood, a settlement or a workplace, as well as intentional communities, such as a barter community, a fan club, an amateur theater group, etc. An important question we shall not engage with here is the size limit: how large can a community be (both in terms of the number of members and in terms of geographical dispersal) without losing its character, and how do the new communication technologies and the “network society” influence this limitation. In any case, it is clear that the community cannot be large without limit. Unlike community, the term “commune” takes up a rather marginal space in sociological research. The commune is also not part of the platform of any major political movement. It is a marginal phenomenon (both in theory and in praxis), and is mainly of interest to relatively small groups on both sides of the political-ideological map: communal socialists and religious-fundamentalist movements. For this reason it is easier to define commune than community, although this term also presents some vagueness. A commune is a type of community: a relatively small community (ranging from a few individuals to several hundred members at most) and very intense. It is a communionizing community, and its members share a common way of life. The fields in which communion exists vary from one commune to another: work, culture, religious rituals, education and more. The extent of communion and the location of the line distinguishing between private life and the life of the community also vary. The variations and gradation allow us to waive the attempt to make a dichotomous distinction between commune and community, and say that inasmuch as a community maintains intensive social relationships, inasmuch as its

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members hold more areas of life common, and inasmuch as this communion is deeper – so does the community take on the characteristics of a commune. However, one characteristic of communal life is more dichotomous than it is gradational. I am referring to economic communion. Present-day capitalist culture attributes an almost religious sanctity to private property. The nuclear family is the largest social unit in which economic communion is normative. But in a commune, people who are not relatives of each other hold property in communion. Indeed, there is some gradation here as well – not all communes maintain a full economic communion, but even the least communal commune displays a model of economic behavior that is a radical alternative to capitalism. Since its early days, and even before Marx, Socialism placed an emphasis on the economic aspect of human life, and attributed a special importance to it. It may be said that the thing that sets Socialism apart from other radical-democratic trends is the comprehension that the establishment of liberty, equality and fraternity among human beings entails a change in the economic relationships between them from relationships of exploitation, competition and struggle to relationships of partnership and solidarity. Hence it should seem clear that Socialism views the commune (interpreted as a community that maintains economic communion) as the desirable way of life – the way of life of the future: human society after the revolution will be shaped as a federation of communes, or as a federation of federations of communes. The communities will take upon themselves the management of the economic and social life, and especially production and consumption, and shall do so in communion. This, approximately, is the vision of free society in many socialist, communist and anarchist theories (from Thomas More to syndicalism). Even in Marx, who did not engage much in the depiction of the society of the future, we find something of the sort.8 Despite this, a practical plan for the formation of communes and of federations of communes was never part of the program of large socialist movements, and most certainly not of those movements that reached positions of substantial public influence.9 One reason for this difference I had already presented at the beginning of my argument: the suspicion felt by Socialism towards the particular community (which necessarily has a particular agenda and 8 Especially in his essay: ‘The Civil War in France’ (Marx 1993), But also in other documents he wrote during that period, and especially the drafts for his letter to the Russian revolutionary Vera Zasulich (Marx 1989). 9 Except for the special case of the Kibbutzim’ movement in Israel.



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particular interests), which might divert revolutionary energies from the political struggle over the structure of the entire society. This claim is valid in respect of every community, but most prominently so in regards to a community that maintains an intensive partnership like the commune. There is also another reason, which in some respects is similar to the first, but applies mostly to the commune, and less to communities that are less intensive and lack economic communion. Capitalism prevails not only over the economy and the social relations of present-day society. It also influences consciousness. As long as capitalism reigns there will be only few people, even among fervent socialists, communists and union leaders, who are willing to take on the challenge of economic communion. The commune fascinates very few people: young idealists from the intelligentsia, artists, “hippies”, members of messianic cults and other people who live, or look for, an alternative way of life. As long as capitalism prevails, the commune bears the stigma of social marginality. It should be noted that it is not always that commune members are unwillingly thrust to the margins. Sometimes they gladly swarm there. In the history of communal movements we see time and time again explicit or implicit expressions of the motivation to leave the masses sagging in degeneration and to found a new, better world in the country or at the frontier areas, or overseas, in some version or another of “the promised land”. Even when commune members do not abandon city centers, they distance themselves from the normative discourse and from the normative customs, and are hence driven to the social and cultural margins, even if not the geographical ones. Socialism, at least since the time of Marx, aims at the center, searches for a living contact with the masses, i.e. with the general public. The masses, the proletarians of the 19th century and the middle-class of the 20th Century, may potentially join labor unions and sympathize with political demands for social amendments. They might even adopt certain patterns of community life (a cooperative factory, neighborhood committee, parent involvement in school management, etc.). However, it is unreasonable to expect that they will join communes maintaining economic communion by large numbers. Not before the revolution. For this reason, even when Socialism overcomes its suspicion and explicitly supports communal organizing, it grants such support to relatively normative patterns of communal organizing, and does not go as far as explicitly supporting communes. In other words: the commune is part of the utopical vision, but is not a necessary part of the concrete struggle. The non-communion community, on the other hand, posits a certain, less radical alternative to capitalism. If it succeeds in reaching the masses, or

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at least wide publics, then it is a more effective channel of action and struggle from minute communal groups of idealist youngsters. But perhaps Socialism needs not make a choice between community and the commune? In recent years we have been witnessing in Israel the appearance of “task-oriented communes”. These are communal groups of a new kind, which incorporate a communal way of life inwards along with a socialist awareness and socialist action outwards, towards the general society. The members of these communes have an important role (and a much more significant one than their relative part of the population) in leading workers’ struggles, in instructing teenagers through informal frameworks, in creating cooperatives, in establishing popular institutions for socialist education, and in other projects of a communal, communitarian and socialist nature. The communal way of life does, indeed, come at a cost (in regards to the energy and spare time resources of the members), but the commune also charges its members with “tasking-energy” and serves as a support group for their struggles. I believe that the choice between “community” and “commune” is not a critical question, and not even a required decision, for Socialism. From this point on I shall speak, then, of “Communal Socialism” as a socialist trend that emphasizes projects of construction, renewal, and empowerment of communities of different types and at varying levels of communion. The commune (the communionizing community) is an essential part of the utopical vision of Communal Socialism, and communal groups that presently exist should be part of its avant-garde of activists.  Community and Capitalism Does Communal Socialism bring with it a current message at the beginning of the 21st century? Present-day capitalism10 has a destructive effect on community life. For this there are several reasons: first, the technological developments and changes in relations of production are gradually leading to the “melting away of the workplace”: in many cases one business firm performs its “work” (or produces its product) in many different arenas dispersed throughout the world. In other cases, within the same work-arena there may be active different groups of workers, with only

10 It is sometimes referred to as “corporate capitalism”, “global capitalism”, “post-late capitalism”, and so on. For the purpose of our discussion there is no need to scrutinize in choosing the name.



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loose connections between them. The “flexibility” in the modern labor market means that firms frequently replace their workers, and that workers frequently change their workplace. The workers of each firm do not know each other, and sometimes hardly ever meet each other. This greatly infringes on their ability to organize in labor unions, but it infringes even more on their ability to find (or to create) a “community-life” at their workplace. Secondly, the area of leisure in our times is characterized by fluidity and fluctuations even more than the area of labor. People in our times spend their leisure hours (in public gardens, in shopping centers, at the cinema etc.) among strangers, most of whom they had never met and will never meet again. The characteristics of the mass society are increasingly taking over the life of the public and smothering it. Thirdly (and in connection with the previous matter): the after-work activities performed by men and women in our times are rapidly turning from social activities to consumerism. Consumerism, even when performed out in public (such as going to the cinema), is usually characterized by passiveness. The innovative technologies in the fields of television and Internet, and the forms of consumerism that have developed around them, render even leaving the house unnecessary, and surely obviate the need for human contact.11 The next phenomenon is perhaps the most simple and obvious, but also the most destructive for communities: present-day capitalism demands of people from all social venues a great many work hours. Men and women who return to their homes long after the sun had set find very little time and energy for “community life”. Oscar Wilde once said that “the problem with socialism is that it will take up too many evenings”. The same may also be said of communitarianism, and perhaps also of democracy and of active-citizenship. However, we should actually turn the argument on its head: it is capitalism that demands too much time from human beings, and after it had gotten its share, not much is left for anything else… 11 As for the Internet: there is significant evidence to suggest that its social role is not necessarily anti-community, and in any event that this role does not run in only one direction. In his book ‘Bowling Alone’ from 2000, Robert Putnam noted that the Internet had “television-like qualities” (passiveness, loneliness), as well as “phone-like qualities” (activeness, contact with others). Ten years ago Putnam claimed it was still too early to know whether the Internet will form itself as a new kind of television or as a new kind of phone (Putnam 2000, 179–180). It seems to me that today we still do not possess a final answer to this question.

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The pioneers of modern sociology in the 19th century – Durkheim, Marx, Weber, Tönnies and their students, believed that capitalism, which was forming during their time, would soon bring about the death of community. They were not wrong in their prognosis, but inaccurate: the capitalism that they knew, old-fashion capitalism, had destroyed the old, traditional community. However, over the course of the 20th century, new, modern patterns of communitarianism were formed, which in some respects replaced the traditional patterns. But since the 1980’s communitarian thinkers have been anxiously pointing to a new phenomenon: the dying out of the modern community. Robert Putnam, in his engaging book “Bowling Alone”, describes thus the graph of communal life in America: ever since the 1940’s, the number of communal institutes in America, and the number of Americans members of which, has been constantly on the rise. Communal involvement in America peaked in the 1960’s, and maintained a more or less constant level during the 1970’s. Since the end of the 1970’s the indices of communal activity in America have been plummeting towards zero (Puntam 2000, 15–28). It may be presumed that in the global age in which we are living, the phenomenon of the disintegration of modern communities, which began in America during the 1970’s, is not unique to the United States alone. It is difficult to overlook the fact that the 1970’s were also the period in which corporate capitalism erupted, and in which neoliberalism became the dominant political ideology (Margaret Thatcher was elected prime-minister in Britain in 1979, and Ronald Reagan won the US presidency in 1981). Ever since then, the process of decay of community life and the process of strengthening of neoliberalism have been advancing hand in hand. Indeed, any correlation does not necessarily point to causality, but only rarely is a consistent correlation a factor that research may overlook.12 For the socialist, there is nothing surprising about the claim that capitalism is ruining communities. After all, she had been claiming the exact same thing the entire time. It has been over one-hundred and fifty years that socialists have been claiming that capitalism was ruining human potentials for a “good life” (in the Platonic-Aristotelian sense of the term). As I had explained early on in this chapter, community life is part of the

12 Putnam’s own disregard of capitalism is especially strange and fascinating - Putnam dedicates about one hundred pages of his book to a search of who to blame: ‘what or who is killing community life in America?’ he asks. However, as part of the search for someone to blame he only mentions capitalism in one or two paragraphs, and in a rather minor context.



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definition of the good life according to every socialist. The socialist knows, then, that capitalism is ruining the community. But she asks herself whether the community is able to ruin capitalism? Can it at least narrow its reign? In recent years, more and more movements that oppose capitalism, albeit not necessarily for purely socialist reasons, are emphasizing the importance of community, and for exactly the same reasons due to which the community is important to Socialism. At the opening of the chapter I mentioned the three basic phenomena of present-day society: market economy, arena politics, and the mass society. Capitalism feeds on these phenomena, and dialectically feeds and constructs them in return. The community offers an alternative to them. Communities give humanbeings frames of action that are not market- or arena-oriented, in which they are able to work in union to realize a common good. Communities provide them with belonging groups in which they can sound their voice, they can make a difference, and they may receive feedback for the difference they had made. The community reduces (although, of course, it does not eliminate) human-beings’ dependence on anonymous systems of management, buying, selling, and consumerism. It creates for them new spheres for experience, for thought and for conversation. It creates islands of change, which might, perhaps, gradually turn into a non-capitalist continent. Admittedly, success is anything but assured. The struggle between capitalism and the community is not a battle between equal forces. The power of the former is dozens of times more than that of the latter. And yet, the story of David overpowering Goliath is not merely a pretty tale. Sometimes, the Davids actually win, in moments when the proper historic circumstances are joined by human wisdom and determination. It is this belief that forms the basis for many communal projects of our time: cohousing, barter communities, cooperative shops and productive cooperatives (mainly in the fields of tourism, services and handicraft), community gardens and community schools. It would be a tragic mistake to be made by the socialist should she overlook this potential, or raise an eyebrow and ask “what does any of this have to do with Socialism…?”13 13 A story I heard from a “community organizer” in a small field town in Israel might serve to demonstrate this: residents of that town, Jewish immigrants from Ethiopia, of traditional raising and from a low socio-economic standing, founded a community vegetable garden. The residents cultivated the garden together, and each partner received part of the crops (they grew a different vegetable in each garden-bed, and then divided the beds across among the growers). One of the participants in the project, an older religious person, said to the organizer one day: ‘tomorrow you will not see me at the synagogue. I must travel to my daughter, who lives in another city (a distance of several hours by bus), to

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Throughout its existence Socialism was always a very practical movement. This is not to say that it did not possess a theory and a philosophy of its own, but that the theory and philosophy of Socialism were always aimed at action. Socialism aims to change the world. Philosophizing about the world is important if it helps us understand how to change it, but it is no substitute for action. The philosophical questions must be ultimately translated into practical questions, and the question “What is to be done” is the most important question for a socialist. In the context of our discussion, the question “What is to be done” is translated into the following sub-questions: Is there a chance for rebuilding a communal life in the social reality of our times? Could communal projects contribute to the struggle against capitalism? Should Socialism initiate community and communal projects? Should Socialism actively support such projects? Should socialists collaborate, as part of communal projects, with nonsocialist communitarian trends (religious, liberal, new-age, and even conservative trends)? From what I had written so far it should be clear I believe the answers to these questions are positive. However, due to the great complexity of the political, social and economic reality of our times, and due to the fact that the “community” is a central concept not only for progressive trends, but also for conservative and even reactionary trends, Communal Socialism faces a danger of having its “community” moves serve rather those trends to which it opposes. In order to repel this danger, communal socialists must come to grips with three urgent problems. The first problem is the question of Socialism’s approach to the State and to political tools. As may be remembered, Marx conceived of the State bring her some of the vegetables I grew’. ‘I almost told him that was foolish,’ told me the organizer, ‘why spend money on a bus ticket and waste an entire day on a trip north with a basket of vegetables? Just send her a cheque and let her buy the vegetables herself!’ and he continued: ‘before I opened my mouth I realized the nonsense of what I was about to say. I understood how the gift of vegetables rehabilitates that father’s dignity, his selfimage, his value, his relations with his daughter…’. a much deeper human logic than the economic- logic of the market system was at work here. Is there really one socialist who does not realize how such a story relates to Socialism?



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as part of capitalism’s mechanism of oppression and exploitation, and of political action as an alienated social activity. However, the paradoxical conclusion that Marx drew from this is that the organized proletariat must enter the political field and fight for control over the State. According to Marx, it was impossible to cancel out the oppressive role of the State without first taking it over, and it was impossible to cancel out political alienation (and in fact, any other alienation as well) but for through and by alienation itself.14 Communal Socialism was akin to the anarchist trend in Socialism, and its approach towards the State was much more reserved than that of Marx, and much less dialectical. Many communal socialists believed it was possible to just ignore the State and politics in general. Gustav Landauer, for instance, thought that once a sufficiently large number of people organizes their lives in communal communities (and in federations of communal communities) and ignore the State, the State will disappear of its own. This naiveté was one of the sore evils of Communal Socialism, and one of the reasons for this trend always finding itself on the losing side, even in internal struggles within the socialist camp. In modern reality, communal projects that do not partake in politics doom themselves to impotence. They do not have the means to protect themselves from assaults by capitalism, and they necessarily lack the ability to “reach the masses”, to expand and to grow. Without political involvement, the communities and the communes will remain on the fringes of reality, and their members will be, at most, a small circle of people searching for their redemption ‘behind the back of society’, to use an expression used by Marx in a similar context (Marx 1951, 8). Martin Buber, one of the greatest thinkers of Communal Socialism, understood perfectly well that withdrawal from politics could not be allowed. This insight does not cancel out what was said earlier: politics (and revolutionary politics included) is an area of alienation and of antagonism. Community and politics are indeed strangers one to another, and yet, the community must not estrange politics. Buber formulated this tension quite well in several places, but never offered a satisfying solution to it. The problem remains, and Communal Socialism is burdened with the task of offering current answers to it: is it possible to create communities that will not be apolitical? Is it possible to create politics that will not be anti-communal? The second urgent problem is that of the approach of Communal Socialism towards the activity field of “civil society”. The institutions of 14 In claiming so, Marx applied a practical guise of a revolutionary program to the abstract dialectics of Hegel.

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the “free” market are, of course, disqualified (from a socialist point of view), and the institutions of the State are problematic (at best). What about institutions and organizations that are not business firms and not governmental ministries? Apparently, these should be the natural hunting grounds of Communal Socialism. The communities and federations of communities that it seeks to create seem to be an organic part of the “civil society”, which is a “third sector” – neither State nor market. However, the picture is not so simple. The “third sector”, as it is shaped today, is not truly an independent agent. To the extent that it is not dependent upon (evershrinking) government budgets, it is dependent upon the contributions of capitalist philanthropists. This dependency deeply influences the nature of the “third sector”, and turns it into one of the central factors in the process of privatization. In its current form, the “third sector” is the enemy of any Socialism, and of Communal Socialism included. The important question, then, is whether it is possible to create a different kind of “civil society”, to motivate processes of formation of communities and of federations of communities without relying on philanthropic funds. In this matter as well Communal Socialism had displayed naiveté since its onset, in the thought of utopists such as Saint-Simon and Fourier. Just as Communal Socialism had mistakenly thought it would be possible to “get along without the State”, so it had also hoped that it would be possible to recruit capitalists to contribute of their capital to the process of constructing Socialism. Vladimir Ilyich Lenin is attributed the saying that ‘the capitalists will sell us the rope with which we will hang them’. Activists in communal projects (in the past or present), raising donations from philanthropists to their projects, are actually trying to get the noose from the capitalists for free. The big question in this risky game is who, eventually, will be the hangman, and who will be hanged. The alternative for philanthropists’ funds is membership fees. Many partners, paying each a relatively small amount, could replace one millionaire donating a large sum. But of course, for this purpose there must first already be many partners with a genuine interest in the project and with a deep commitment. In order to establish communities and federations of communities, you need to have partners who will pay membership fees; and in order to have enough partners willing to pay membership fees, you must first have communities and federations of communities. How does one break the vicious circle? Where and when to begin? This is the question Communal Socialism must provide an immediate answer to. The third problem Communal Socialism must respond to is seemingly less urgent, since it deals with the vision for the future, with utopia.



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Socialist revolutionaries usually refrained from depicting in detail the image of the world after the revolution. They viewed this as an engagement with abstract utopias. They claimed that the world after the revolution will be a world in which Man’s liberty is realized, and it is for this exact reason that it was impossible to describe it aforehand: the social arrangements in a free society will be those that the members of that society freely choose, in a democratic, cooperative, and rational decisionmaking process. Anything more than this cannot be said. However, this argument, although it is not without validity, is also very problematic. In his ‘An Essay on Liberation’ from 1969, Herbert Marcuse wrote that the existing capitalist order is not only evil. It ‘delivers the goods’, and there may be much worse societies (and surely, such actually exist). Corporate capitalism, rules Marcuse, has the right to demand that those seeking to replace it justify their actions.15 What is the image of “the good society” according to the proponents of Communal Socialism? What would the world look like were it to be shaped in accordance with their principles? Seemingly, realization of the vision of Communal Socialism (concrete communities making decisions for and by themselves) would mean a retreat to a primitive mode of production. How would it be possible to rationally manage a global economy, when every local producers’ cooperative and every local consumers’ community, are qualified to decide by themselves what to produce and what to consume? How would it be possible to manage decision-making processes on economic, social, and political issues on a national or international level? Would it not be a cumbersome, anarchic, inefficient and wasteful mechanism? Is it not reasonable to say that the only way to uphold a communal-democracy is to return to a pre-modern way of life, in which small communities, distinct from one another, satisfy their humble needs by themselves? How would it be possible to manufacture a computer, for instance, or a cellular phone, in such an anarchic community mode of production? And how would it be possible to build planes and ships in order to transport the computers and phones manufactured in one place to the other end of the world? A similar critique might be made on other matters as well, matters which go beyond the narrow sense of

15 In the opening of ‘An Essay on Liberation’, Marcuse succinctly and clearly presents the veteran socialist doctrine, according to which socialists should not be occupied with depictions of the future society. However, early on in his essay he determines it was time to reexamine that doctrine. He returns to this matter towards the end of the essay (Marcuse 1969, 3–4, 86).

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manufacturing and consumption, as city planning, for instance, or the organization of the education and communications systems, etc. As mentioned, Communal Socialism needs to respond to the criticism. I see three angles of response: firstly, it is hard to think of a modern mode of production which is more cumbersome, anarchic, inefficient and wasteful than the corporate capitalism that prevails today. Indeed, capitalism had created the affluent society. But does it know how to manage the affluence and maintain it? And most importantly: does it know how to direct the manufacturing and consumption in a manner fitting with human dignity and human needs? Since its earliest days, the theoreticians of capitalism said: let the market manage itself, and everything will be alright! This concept grew, in our generation, to what is called ‘casino capitalism’.16 The capitalists manage the global economy as a global casino. Under these circumstances, it is a little strange to hear from them the claim that a democratic, participatory, and rational management of the economy (as suggested by socialists and especially by communal socialists) would constitute a dangerous gamble… Secondly, the new technologies in the field of manufacturing, and especially in the field of communications, create conditions that enable a participatory democracy that would increase efficiency, and not harm it. The Internet medium, instead of creating virtual communities, could improve and simplify communication and decision-making processes within concrete communities and among them. The third angle of response is a return, from a certain perspective, to the socialist refusal to engage in the plotting of utopias. But it does not suffice itself with this. There is no need, so claims this response, to answer today the question of how a humanity organized in communes will be managed. A “humanity organized in communes” is a distant utopical vision, and anyone who thinks it is possible to “jump” to it is amusing themselves with fantasies. It cannot be jumped to, but rather advanced towards, slowly and gradually. We must first begin with the creation of communities and the establishment of federative ties between communities. Start out small and on a local scale. At this time we should shape the mechanisms that will enable collaboration between ten or a hundred communities, and not between thousands or tens of thousands of communities. What is needed at this moment is the construction of tools for communal communication that could serve hundreds and thousands of

16 A term coined by the British scholar Susan Strange in 1986.



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members, and not hundreds of thousands. This is how Martin Buber formulated the principled approach of Communal Socialism towards the question of realization: Genuine “Utopian” soclialism … seeks to realize itself in a given place and under given conditions, that is, ‘here and now’, and to the greatest degree possible here and now. But it regards the local realization … as nothing but a point of departure, a beginning, something that must be there if the new society is to arise out of it, out of all its cells and those they make in their likeness. (Buber 1958, 81)

The question regarding the feasibility and efficiency of Communal Socialism is, on the one hand, a question we cannot and need not answer, and on the other hand, it is a question we can and must answer immediately. It is impossible, and there is no need to, draw the exact structure and the model of economic and political activity, of a humanity organized in communes. But it is possible, and necessary, to describe the structure and the model of economic and political activity of current communal projects. This description is not distinct from the mere effort for the realization of such projects, nor does it precede them (in the sense of a theory to precede the action). It is intertwined within the act of realization itself, but it is a part we must not overlook. These are the questions with which Communal Socialism must come to grips, when attempting to renew its journey across the earth, amongst people who are exhausted and worn out from decades of capitalism in the West and Statist-communism in the East. Should it be able to answer them, it would also be able to offer old-new ways for humanity, which seems to be imprisoned by the corporate capitalism (although it is truly imprisoned by no one but itself). Those content with the reign of capitalism, those who think that our current world is “the best of possible worlds”, have no need for Socialism or for the revival of community. But those who are filled by anxiety and hope in the face of the state of humanity at the beginning of the third millennium, cannot give up on Socialism; or, for that matter, on community.

PART TWO

THE DIVERSITY OF CHALLENGES

COMMUNES AND COMMUNITIES: HISTORY AND PERSPECTIVE Yaacov Oved  Introduction The main issue of this book is: the relevance of the communal idea and the message that it conveys to the 21st century. My approach to it as a historian of communes leads me to look at this matter from a historical perspective. Communal phenomena can be found in most periods throughout history. Communes existed in the past and they exist in the present, and it appears that they will exist in the near future as well. Throughout their history, they appeared intermittently with ebbs and flows. Commonly, they were tiny minorities and there were no historical periods in which they had a lasting impact on the society at large. They were always – voluntary communities which were based on a wide range of motivations: religious beliefs, secular social ideologies and utopian visions. In this article I shall focus on the historical experience and lessons of the communes in the second half of the 20th century, which is based on my recent research (Oved 2012).  Historical Review of Communes and Intentional Communities The history of communes in the twentieth century falls into two main periods. In the first, from the beginning of the century until the World War II, communes were created separately in different parts of the world, and no links between them were formed. During the World War II, no new communes were established. The stable communes which had existed before the war – the kibbutz movement in Israel, the Bruderhof in Paraguay, and the Hutterites on the western plains of the US and Canada, and some other religious communes – continued to exist, but there was no connection between them. After the World War II, communes and intentional communities began to appear which were open to international relations both as a result of their social composition and because communication networks were

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created which extended beyond the boundaries of the states in which they were situated. This was the beginning of a process which eventually became a historical trend in the development of communes and cooperative societies, and coincided with the tendencies toward globalization which developed during this period. After the end of the World War II, a number of pacifist communes were established. In 1948, this trend was institutionalized in the US with the foundation of the Fellowship of Intentional Communities. These groups joined together in an association in which various types of communal societies took part. Their common denominator was pacifism, and the desire to show the post-war world that they presented a way to establish peaceful and harmonious communities. The organization was centered in the US, but the trend was international, and it was open to the participation of communes from outside the US. During the 1960s, international links expanded and intensified, and reached global dimensions. The most significant development regarding the globalization of the communes took place in the US towards the end of the sixties, with the creation of the hippy communes, the biggest wave of communes in modern times. This wave began in the US, and spread quickly to Britain, Western Europe, Australia and New Zealand. During the 1970s the number of hippy communes was reduced, but they did not disappear. They continued to exist, and adopted more pragmatic attitudes to social and economic questions. By then, the world had become a global village as a result of modern means of communication – particularly television, which disseminated information about the communes. In the wake of the wave of communes in the sixties, communes began to appear in most European countries during the seventies. During this period the European background was similar to that in the US, and there too, radical young people took part in the protest movement and produced ideas parallel to those of the ‘alternative society’. Distinct patterns characteristic of each country emerged. In general, in the countries of Europe, the radical political element was more marked than in the US. A similar expansion took place in Australia. During the 1970s, some individual communes in the US, Britain and Japan took the initiative in attempt­ing to create international contacts, and thereby also establish an international periphery. In 1972, the journal Communities began to appear with the aim of presenting the idea of the commune to a wide public. It contained a section called Directory, which eventually became an excellent guide providing up to date information about communes in the world.



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The spread of communes throughout the world in the 1970s stimulated the need and desire to create links between them. In 1976, the International Communes Desk was founded in Israel, through the initiative of Mordechal Bentov, one of the founders of the Kibbutz Artzi kibbutz movement, who created an extensive network of relationships with communards the world over. In the nineteen-eighties, the International Communal Studies Asso­ ciation was founded and served as a joint forum for scholars and communards the world over. With its foundation scholarly interest in communes on an international scale was increasing, and new horizons for international links were opening up. The Communal Studies Association, an organization of American scholars, which was also opened to scholars from outside the US showed the same tendency (Palgi & Reinharz 2011). In the 1990s, there began a process of expansion of the communal movement in the world, with the foundation of ‘intentional communities’. Unlike the hippy communes, they were stable, pragmatic and pluralist. These communities founded the Fellowship for Intentional Community as an umbrella organization which contained various types of coopera­ tive  communities: communes, cooperatives, intentional communities, and recently also ecovillages and co-housing projects. The international connections of the communes and cooperative communities have become more variegated with the establishment of the Global Ecological Network, a network of ecological communities and cohousing projects, which have begun to appear over the past decade in most western countries. Thus, at the beginning of the twenty-first century, communes and cooperative communities embarked on a broad and stable path. (Oved 2012) From the 1990s, the group of partly communal communes has become organized in the Fellowship for Intentional Com­mu­ nity. It marked the beginning of an ecumenical organization attempt­ing to collect and maintain information about the North American intentional communities. The people who compose the FIC are mostly from the secular side of the communities’ movement. (Schaub 2005). The increase from the 565 listings in the 1990 edition to the 1055 listings in the 2010 edition indicates that interest in cooperative living is growing. The portion of groups reporting some form of affiliation with cohousing is about 30%. There has been a big jump in groups that identify themselves as ecovillages and it has also reached about 30%. Groups that practice some form of income sharing are the distinct minority. Where only 7% practice total income sharing, the proportion swells to 20% if groups that practice partial income sharing are included. (Schaub 2010)

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Until the 1980s, the communes were the main element among the intentional communities, but since then a change has taken place. The religious, and some of the secular, communes continued to exist, but their proportion in the total number of intentional communes declined, while the number of communities which maintained only partial cooperation increased. Overall, by the end of the twentieth century the number of communes and various types of intentional communities had grown to dimensions hitherto unknown, apart from a few years in the sixties. The communities founded in the eighties and nineties had a different character from that of previous communities. Most of them were secular, and only about a quarter were religious or distinguished by various forms of spirituality. Furthermore, most of them were small. It was only in the oldestablished and religious communes, which were founded before the sixties, that membership reached several hundreds. Most of the communes of the sixties and seventies tended to withdraw from society. In the eighties and nineties this tendency was replaced by a wide-spread aspiration to create an alternative society inside the general community, and to function within it as centers of influence and spiritual guidance. These communities hold views which have induced them to establish a network of relationships, exerting influence on the surrounding society. Most of these communities are not based on a binding ideology, but on a pluralistic approach according to which people may unite in a common life, in the course of which they create a joint background which will enable them to reach compromises and agreements while preserving their individual beliefs. From the eighties onwards, the use of the word ‘commune’ became less frequent, and the phrase ‘intentional community’ became a generic term, emphasizing the nature of communities with a common vision and goal, but without a common economic structure (Christian 2003). During the eighties and nineties these communities were joined by other communities with cooperative elements, but with much room for the freedom of the individual. The wide distribution and great variety of the communes in the second half of the twentieth century established pluralism as an objective phenomenon. But it was only with the foundation of the Fellowship for Intentional Communities and the adoption of the principle of ‘inclusivity’ that pluralism became the policy and basic multi-cultural ideology of the Fellowship.



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Before the foundation of the Fellowship for Intentional Community, the associations of communes were sectorial, and based on a common identity. They focused primarily on their distinctive characteristics rather than on relationships with the outside world. With the foundation of the Fellowship, there began an exploration of ways to discover common elements with these communes, while respecting the differences between the previous associations. So the new association succeeded in including the sectorial movements without giving up their special characteristics. The technological revolution of science and communications has reached the modern communes. Most of the communes have internet sites, and communications among them, and between them and the outside world, have introduced a dimension of openness. This did not exist in the communes of the sixties and seventies, which aimed to isolate themselves and cut themselves off from modern civilization and technology (Koinoch 2003). It should be noted that the multi-cultural approach developed first and foremost at the organizational level, as the policy of associations. But, parallel to this, there came about an internal development, primarily in the secular communes, which adopted a pluralistic approach with regard to internal social relationships. It was expressed in the tolerant attitude to opinions and outlooks in matters of faith and politics (Didcot, Communi­ ties #109 2000).  The Spiritual World In the second half of the twentieth century the number of communes inspired by socialist ideas declined steeply, and instead some new radical and anarchistic communes appeared within the wave of hippie communes. In the sixties, the hippies founded secular apolitical communes as a result of their disillusion with American society. Their members criticized the capitalist system, which encouraged materialism, unbridled consumerism, competitiveness, and alienation between human beings. In the late sixties, opposition to the Vietnam War and to atomic weap­ ons  were added to these themes, as the majority of communards were pacifists. They sought ways of isolating themselves in areas far from civilization, returning to nature and living a life of simplicity and frugality in an intimate community. These communes implementing anarchistic ways of life and behavior were small, and short-lived. In the seventies there began a process of stabilization in the communes, accompanied by criticism of the hippy communes. At this period

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there began to appear urban middle-class communes, whose members were older and economically well established. The element common to most of the communities which were founded after the hippy wave was the combination of a desire for self-realization and the search for communal frameworks which would make this possible. Another element was the aspiration to spirituality which would give meaning to communal life. The doctrines of the ‘New Age’ provided extensive spiritual space for these aspirations. In the communes that were founded in the eighties and nineties, much attention was devoted to the creation of lifestyle norms which would preserve personal freedom within a framework of communal solidarity. The number of communities which preferred the general interest to the needs of the individual declined considerably. Sharing this point of view, the communities of the eighties and nineties aroused less antagonism than their historic predecessors and most of the hippy communes. It should be emphasized that the foundation of new intentional communities always involved the formulation of aims and objectives which consolidated the community in its formative period and constituted the basis of its conduct at later stages. (Christian 2003) The secular communes’ rejection of authoritarian ideologies led to the development of a multi-cultural approach which enabled the members to unite in communal life and to establish a common background productive of compromises and agreements while preserving individual beliefs. In most of the non-religious communes, there were aspirations to a spirituality which would give meaning to their life in the community. These aspirations engendered various ideologies, which exist side by side within the community and which have created space for various spiritual aspirations. In most of these communities there is an atmosphere of tolerance towards beliefs and opinions on any subject not directly connected with the life of the community. Nonetheless, they preserve the fundamental elements of the vision which led to their establishment. The abandonment of binding ideologies by the non-religious communes has brought about a pluralistic approach, according to which the members can join together in communal life, and create a common background on whose basis they can reach compromises and agree­ ments  while preserving individual beliefs. The pluralist multicultural approach of the non-religious communities is the result of the spread of pragmatism and post-modernism during the two final decades of the twentieth century. In the social sphere, most pragmatists believe that the truth is measured through practical objectives and the benefit to which



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they lead, and that a world-outlook is only an instrument and a plan of action whereby mankind copes with its environment. Post-modernism has adopted the rejection of deterministic and authoritarian ideologies as a central component of its world-outlook. Post-modernists, like pragmatists, base their approach on conceptual relativism, in the belief that human reality is variegated. Both of these two approaches reject the idea of absolute truth, and advocate tolerance of different truths. Both advocate a free pluralistic society in which there is no deterministic, authoritarian ideological coercion. (Oved 2007). In general, historical experience shows that a founding vision is essential to the foundation and survival of both religious and secular intentional communities.  Motivations for Joining the Communities In the wave of the sixties, most of those who joined the communes were young unmarried hippies influenced by the counter-culture, who sought a remote refuge, at variance with the prevailing culture. In general, they were motivated by the desire to flee from that culture. In the eighties and nineties, families and older people began to join communes (Metcalf 2000). Their cultural background, spiritual world and education had fostered in them a deep fundamental belief in the freedom and independence of the individual, and opposition to any collectivism which subjects the individual to the needs of the community. One of its most prominent manifestations was the increase of openness and tolerance, which gave each individual the opportunity of free choice in a complex society and which afforded him/her many different, and sometimes conflicting, opportunities. Openness also made it possible to choose a type of communal association: not only communes, but different types of communalism – which enabled the individual to enjoy autonomy and independence seeking ‘self-realization’, in a way of life which makes altruistic individualism possible: in other words, a communal way of life which leaves living space for the aspirations of the individual, while taking into account the needs of the community and of the other members (Bauman 2006). Here it should be pointed out that there is a difference between this type of individualism and the parallel option which leads to atomization with its inherent antagonism to the community, and, by its very nature, makes communal association impossible. By the end of the twentieth

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century, individualism, which in the past had characterized few communities, became under the influence of the Zeitgeist, a feature of the majority of secular communes (Beck & Beck 2000). The renewed search for communalism was a reaction to the growing imbalance between individual freedom and personal security in modern society. The main attraction of “responsive communitarianism” is its promise of a safe haven for people who seek groups to which they can belong. According to this approach, the community is a home in the broadest and most comprehensive sense, a complete world which provides all that a person may need in order to lead a meaningful and satisfactory life. Under these circumstances, in the communes which were founded in the eighties and nineties, there was plenty of room for the creation of life-style norms which combined individual freedom with a framework of communal solidarity. The element common to most of the communal societies was the combination of the desire for self-realization and the search for communal frameworks which would make this possible. The search for community was also in order to build a base from which to experiment with innovative social relations and aspirations for social justice (Oved 2007).  Leadership and Management The communes and intentional communities employ many systems of management. In some of them there is an authoritarian centralized management, and in others a participatory or decentralized system. In the modern secular communes, the phenomenon of a leader was rare, and appeared only at the foundation stage and the early years. In most modern secular communes there is an atmosphere of tolerance of opinions which are not directly connected with the life of the community; but they also observe the basic principles of the vision which led to their foundation. Decision-making by general agreement ‘consensus’ – is the most widely, though not universally, employed system. Under the consensus system, it may take a long time and extended discussions until a decision is reached, but the more the group is experienced and practiced in the system, the more efficient decision-making becomes, and results in agreement on action. Small communities are most efficient in consensual decision-making. No model of consensual decision-making is generally accepted as being the best. Each model is adapted to the community and its characteristics, and depends on its size,



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its degree of communality, and the vision and objectives of the group. It is generally believed in these communities that ‘consensus’ is not only a decision-making technique, but also a philosophy of ‘inclusion’ which encompasses all of the members and deepens the spirit of community. Consensus appears to have held steady as the most popular form of decision making in communities – though it manifests many varieties. 73% of the communities listed in the Communities Directory 2010 reported using consensus. (Christian Encyclopedia 2003).  Education Most modern communes and intentional communities do not possess independent educational institutions. Some communes were created in order to achieve educational objectives; the foremost examples are the Camphill educational communities for people with special needs. In the religious communities, such as the Hutterites and the Bruderhof, where special attention is paid to the preservation and continuation of the communal heritage, they maintained independent educational systems. In the communes of the eighties and nineties, which were more stable and had a sizeable number of children, the question of education began to assume importance. The children who grew up in the communes went to schools outside the settlement, according to their parents’ choice, and were, of course, exposed to external influences. Processes of socialization of both children and adults take place in all the stable communes. The community usually requires new members to undergo some preparation, particularly during their period of candidacy. In communities which hold their property in common and inter-personal relationships are closer the process of preparation is more intensive, and longer. In all the modern communes the community’s culture has been an important subject, and much time and many resources have been devoted to it. Various events, primarily symbolic dates of the communes, have been celebrated, and served as a source of heightened solidarity (Metcalf 2004).  Family Relationships and the Status of Women Unlike the problematic nature of the relationship between the family and the commune in the communes of the nineteenth century, which considered the family to be a threat to communal solidarity, in the second half of

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the twentieth century this suspicion was no longer held, and the commune was thought to be a means of creating a substitute for the family in the intimate framework of a small community. Later, the family was integrated into the intentional community. In the eighties and nineties, in the new types of intentional communities, stable families existed within the community. In the eighties and nineties, the new wave of communes and intentional communities did not ignore the nuclear family or attempt to abolish it, as their predecessors in the communes of the sixties and seventies had done. So, in spite the radical fervor with which it was advocated, the attempt of the communes of the second half of the twentieth century to find a substitute for the monogamous family constituted no threat to the status of the family in Western society (Smith 1999). In most of the communes women were freed from dependence on housework and child education, and were given far-ranging opportunities of absorption into the economic system. It should be noted thar the communes began to appear in the second half of the sixties, a period when the feminist movement and the struggle for human rights began to be prominent in the US. The conjuncture of these two processes created expectations that complete gender equality would be practiced in these communes, but this did not come about. Feminism was not a central tenet of their philosophy. Very few new communes considered feminist attitudes to be an integral part of communal ideology. The most prominent of these were Twin Oaks and the communes of the Federation of Egalitarian Communities. One of the principles of these communes was the combination of equality and what they called ‘anti-sexism’. They held consistently to this attitude, practicing it in their everyday life. But Twin Oaks and the egalitarian communities were a minority, and few of the cooperative communities went very far towards practicing gender equality. In spite of the few achievements of gender equality, most scholars, however, agree that in this respect the state of affairs in the communes was much better than in outside society.  Relations with the Outside World The relations between modern communes and the outside world followed a number of patterns. In the sixties, with the rise of the ‘hippy communes’, there arose a number of opposing trends. There were many communes whose only goal was to withdraw from civilization; but during



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the same period some communities which originated from the same circles wanted to be involved in society, and exert influence either by radical activity or by force of example. None of these were successful. For a short time the communes’ attitude to outside society was ambivalent, but in the seventies a change came about. The trend towards withdrawal and isolation declined to a minimum, and the trend towards involvement grew. During this period, the communes which had survived from the sixties also settled down, and sought methods of communication with outside society and cooperation with like-minded circles. In the second half of the twentieth century, most religious communes considered themselves to be performing a socio-religious mission, and evangelistic activity, thus being involved in the society rather than shutting themselves in a remote enclosed exemplary communities. The ways of life of the communities of the eighties and nineties were not unlike that of the ‘mainstream. They were no longer part of the ‘counter-culture’, with its special ways of life. From the eighties on, the generic term “Intentional Communities became prevalent. The adoption of this generic term indicates that these are special communities with intensions of their own, and not simply a copy of the ordinary communities which exist in society. The element of intention in them determines in advance the preservation of a distinctive way of life in the community (Christian 2003). In these communities a practical approach, rather than the utopian attitude of the historic communes, is dominant. Intentional communities are melting pots of ideals and issues that have been in the public spotlight over the decades: equality and civil rights, women’s liberation, pacifism, ecology, alternative energy, sustainable agriculture, co-ops, worker-owned business, personal growth, and spirituality. Although intentional communities are usually on the fringes of mainstream culture, the everyday values and priorities of community members are compatible with those of the outer society. Both try to assign value to a stable home and good education for their children, finding meaningful and satisfying work, living in a safe neighborhood and unpolluted environment and participating in local organizations and activities. The main difference is that most intentional communities members are not satisfied with the status quo. Intentional communities are testing grounds for new ideas about how to maintain more satisfying lives that enable people to actualize more of their untapped potential (Kozeny 2010).

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The Fellowship for Intentional Community specifically stated that one of its aims was to spread the word of the advantages of communal life among the general public. The Fellowship expressed its involvement in society in all its activities, from the publication of the journal Communities to conferences intended for the general public. The Fellowship aims both to encompass a wide variety of types of community and to recruit peripheral groups which do not live in communities, but are seeking a way to them. A considerable number of the communities affiliated to it are involved in society, both because of their urban location and because their way of life is similar to that of the ‘mainstream’ (Christian 2003). Intentional communities are unlikely to attract more than a slim slice of the population. The movement’s contribution to society is more likely to lie in its ability to supply the tools and inspiration of community, convincing increasing numbers to forsake private property (Schaub 2005).  Economic Arrangements In the second half of the twentieth century, intentional communities had no universal economic structure. From 1950 onwards, a wide variety of cooperative economic arrangements began to develop. At the beginning of this period, the Hutterite and Bruderhof communities and the kibbutzim in Israel still preserved the structure of the classical commune; but then new communities, structured differently from the integral commune, were founded. Beginning in the seventies, increasing number of communities with a partly communal economic structure began to appear. Some of them practiced spiritual communion, but not economic communalism or joint ownership of property. Most of them did not possess an independent economy, and their members earned their livelihood outside the commune. There is a clear distinction between the older communities, which uphold the principles of the commune in respect to property, and most of the modern communities, in which cooperation is partial or mixed, and in which there is a wide variety of types of relationships, where the inde­pendence of the individual’s livelihood is maintained. Most of these communities have no independent economy, and the members, apart from officials and service workers, earn their livelihood outside the community. The communes of the sixties were poor, and set out with nothing, or with the support of wealthy sympathizers. In the early years, some of



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them existed on welfare allocations. At any rate, all of them allowed new members to join without purchasing a share, and without transferring their private property to the commune. From the seventies onwards, the financial resources for the foun­ dation  of the settlement became more varied. New members were required to buy a share, or acquire one during the time they worked in the community. The basic principle of communal ownership of property was observed in the religious communes and in some of the anarchist and socialist communities. In the egalitarian and cooperative communities of the Federation of Egalitarian Communities, some members owned private property outside the boundaries of the commune, but they observed the principle of equality by not using it to improve their personal standard of life within the commune. In the other communities, jointly owned property was a supplementary principle, and was considered to be the best way of realizing the vision of harmonious life and spiritual cooperation. Thus, in these communes the principle of communal property was not constant, and was liable to be abandoned in the face of external or economic pressure. As a result, various property arrangements were made in the secular communes, ranging from membership without purchase of a share and requirement to purchase one over a number of years, to communal ownership of the land combined with private ownership and leasing by the members. These communes did not insist on the transfer of all private property to the commune. Private property outside the commune was an acknowledged possibility, and did not lead to sanctions or expulsion from the commune. Holding companies of external shareholders were also set up in the secular communes. They set up trust funds, and were the owners of communal property which the communards were able to control and develop (Oved 2012).  Changes in the Communes Among the characteristic phenomena of the communes in the second half of the twentieth century, were the changes in communal arrangements and the appearance of partly communal communities. The eighties brought far-reaching changes in the veteran communes, particularly the secular ones. Communal ownership of property began to decline, and the arrangements for the distribution of money, goods and ser­ vices  began to change. These communes joined the great number of the new communities which had not created a joint economy and

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property-owning scheme at their inception, and left the responsibility for their livelihood in the hands of the members. In the historic communes of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and the first half of the twentieth centuriy, trends of change generally led to decline and liquidation. In these periods, the communes which held fast to the faith which maintained their communal life survived over the years. The background of the changes in the modern communes comprised both internal and external influences. Foremost among the external elements were the changes in surrounding society: the reinvigoration of conservatism, and the declining influence of the New Left and radicalism among young people and students. Another important element was the swift spread of means of mass communication – newspapers, radio, television, electronic communications, and in particular the Internet. The ubiquity of computers has led to an explosion of electronic information. With the advent of telecommuting it is possible for rural groups, which constitute about 2/3 of the movement today, to benefit from city amenities and they are less isolated than those of the 1960s. Their proliferation brought about a revolution in communications in the last two decades of the twentieth century. They reached every corner of the world, and there was scarcely a place, society or group which could exclude them. The cultural messages which they spread reached every society in the second half of the twentieth century, and stimulated changes and assimilation to the new world, with its gospel of individualism. The different types of communities could not be immune from the influences which reached them by these means. In addition to these external elements, there were internal forces within the communes which led to the increase of receptivity to external influences, to the moderation of radical tendencies, to the strengthening of pragmatic attitudes, to an increased emphasis on economic considerations, and to the opening of commercial links with the market and outside society. The demographic composition of the communes was an important element in the process of change. The proportion of young and unmarried people declined, and that of adults with families and children increased. All of these factors heralded the new trend – the stabilization of the communes, at the same time as the introduction of changes and partial privatization of the communal framework. On the other hand, there were also communes which had been founded in the sixties which were not influenced by the tendency to change. The Hutterite and Bruderhof settlements and the kibbutz movement in Israel



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(until the nineties) continued to function as communes throughout the second half of the twentieth century. These communes, together with the other religious communes and the group of egalitarian communities, constitute the bulk of communities which have preserved their communal way of life and refrained from far-reaching changes in their ways of life. In recent years, some books about the Hutterites appeared which describe trends of changes coming from below (Hoffer 1998, Katz 2007). Professor Yossi Katz’s research, based on participant observation and dozens of interviews with Hutterite men and women, writes of many deviations from the traditional way of life, and of the existence of underground currents which could bring about changes (Katz 2007). These deviations have not yet reached the stage of changes, but they are of great concern to the religious leaders of the communes. Despite the leaders’ condemnations, there is a clear tendency among the leaders to find a balance which will enable them to maintain the traditional way of life while gradually opening up to the modern world. The Bruderhof communes have a similar theological background and the same dedication to preserve the communal way of life. But despite the common background, there are differences between them in the degree and the character of of the changes. All the changes which have taken place in recent years were in accordance with the needs of the movement to adjust to the changing circumstances in the outside world. There are clear tendencies of change in the trends of involvement with the outside society, but so far the communal way of life is maintained (Oved 2012). Thus, it appears that since the eighties, the phenomenon of change has been constantly infiltrating into the communes, and has become an integral element of their nature, as a result of the need to cope with a swiftly changing world which leaves them no room for seclusion.  What Could be Learnt from the Historical Experience since 1950 First and foremost, that there was a constant flow of communal societies which continually appeared throughout all of this period. This continuity of communal phenomena in the second half of the 20th century is highly significant, if we add it to the intermittent appearance of communes throughout the history of the Western Civilization, and especially in the 19 and 20th centuries. Moreover, the historical experience manifests that in spite of plenty of failures and disappearances of most of the communes in the past it had never deterred people from trying again and again to

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establish new communes. There are no indications that this trend is going to disappear in the near future. But there is one essential precondition: it is the existence of a democratic and pluralistic society. Communal societies which are voluntary and are based on free choice can appear and last only in democratic and pluralistic societies. Having considered the continuity and persistence of the communes throughout history, the main question still remains: has the communal idea a message to convey to today’s society. Dealing with this issue, it should be noted that from the 1980s onwards, there has been a trend of changes in the communes leading to the privatization of substantial spheres of their way of life, concomitantly with the increase of the individualism and decrease of the collectivism. The relative size of the sector which maintains full community of goods is being reduced and there is a substantial increase of partial communalism. There is a marked increase in the trend of involvement in the outside society and coming closer in their way of life to the mainstream. This trend is significant considering that the modern communes and the various types of intentional communities are no more than small isolated cells within the larger society. They are not immune from the global extension and influence of the electronic media. Does this indicate a process of assimilation and possible extinction of communalism in the near future? This could be eventual but not unavoidable. There are other trends to be considered. The historical experience of the communes and intentional communities in recent decades indicates that the combination of changes in their way of life to a suitable degree, while maintaining the core values of cooperation, affords the ability to adapt to a changing world and even to increase in the number of communities. In the last decades one can observe a predominant pragmatic and realistic approach in the behavior of the new communities. Modern communal societies no longer maintain the utopian vision that their way of life is a panacea to all the society’s ills. It should be also emphasized that the development of communalism throughout the history of the last decades was accompanied by many instances of soul searching which expressed a vital approach of learning from mistakes of the past and adjustment to the changing circumstances of the present. The renewed drive for communalism is a search of a safe haven for people who seek groups to which they can belong. The dream of living



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within a stable secure and supportive community with a multiple generational network drives people to try to establish themselves in communes and intentional communities which appear to be, if not the best, at least a preferred way of life. According to this approach, the community is a home in the most comprehensive sense, a world which provides all that a person may need in order to lead a meaningful and satisfactory life, which can develop a strong connection to a group and place. Seeking a community is also about building a base from which to experiment with innovative social relationships, ecological and sustainable technologies, economic income-sharing, and keeping a spiritual meaningful life. The adoption of the generic term “Intentional Communities” indicates that these are special communities with intensions of their own. The element of intention in them determines the preservation of a distinctive way of life in the community. The “zeitgeist” in the last decades of the prominence of individualism has a significant impact on the new communalism. It led to the establishment of communities which blend communalism with individualism. The element common to most of the new communal societies is the combination of the desire for self-realization and the search for communal frameworks which would make this possible. In the modern democratic and pluralistic society, the communes and intentional communities offer an option for social reform. In a world in which the end of ideology and utopia is discussed, the communal alternatives represent a “small utopia” within a community framework where members lead their lives voluntarily on a basis of equality and mutual assurance. Their experience presents a social laboratory, an opportunity to study a realistic way of life for human beings who live in cooperation and equality within voluntary communities. In conclusion, even within the difficult circumstances and the adverse trends in modern society, the number of communal and semi-communal groups is not diminishing but rising. The increase in the number of such communities, the coexistence of a variety of life styles, classical communes side by side with modern intentional communities and the ability to adjust to the prevailing trends in the society at large while maintaining the core values of cooperation, maintains the belief in the future of communalism.

HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVES ON PARTICIPATION György Széll Introduction1 Without history, we cannot understand anything; therefore, this chapter begins by reflecting on the role of the communal idea in the 21st century. The communal idea was practised in the Greek polis, or city state, (Canfora 2006; Flyvbjerg 2001), and also in the Arab Islamic world, through the Oumma. Communal ideas and practices are found in all traditional societies, mostly in the form of tribes and clans. The Japanese Ie-society is a remarkable example of longevity. Originally based on the solidarity of the rice-growing community, the Ie-principle has been successfully applied to modern Japanese capitalist companies (Széll 2001; Yazawa 2009). The communal idea in its modern form is linked to the development of alternative lifestyles, based on common values, in reaction to the bourgeois revolutions of early modern times. Although the slogan of the French Revolution from 1789 ‘Liberty, equality, fraternity’ included the principle of solidarity, i.e. collective values, in the aftermath of diverse counter-revolutions, it was not a fully inclusive one. The liberation of men (not yet of women) promoted first and foremost the individual, and at best the family. Karl Marx’ famous slogan, “Enrichissez-vous, Enrichissezvous!” exemplifies this point. Alexis de Tocqueville, in his “Democracy in America”, regarded early American society as being characterised by its individualism, which continues to the present day and has become a more global phenomenon. Many observers refer to the increasing individualism of modern societies (Beck 1992; Ritzer 1995, 1997). The process of individualisation is characterized by de-regulation, de-solidarisation, de-unionisation, the strengthening of market forces, the development of a ‘market society’ and growing passive participation (entertainment). In the last decade, the driving force of this egotism has been neoliberalism (Friedman 2002; Forrester 1999) with its shareholder value as a principle for the economy. The former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher brought this attitude to prominence by claiming: “There is no 1 For a more elaborate discussion cf. Széll 1988, 1992; Bolle De Bal 1992, 1993, 2000.

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such thing as society. There are individual men and women, and there are families.” The Hungarian-American speculator and philanthropist George Soros identified more than a decade ago that the risks brought about by this approach for the freedom of the individual are greater than those caused by Stalinism (1998; cf. also Forrester 1999; Bourdieu 1999, 2003). What the diverse bourgeois revolutions have delivered so far is class division instead of a feudal social structure. This modern society is characterized by segregation, discrimination, differentiation and distinction (Bourdieu 1982). The gap between rich and poor is again increasing, especially in emerging countries, namely the BRIC (Brazil, Russia, India, China), but also in South Africa and the rest of the world. Most traditional, conservative, communal ideas are integrated around religious beliefs and value systems and their institutions. These have not been overcome by the advent of bourgeois society. On the contrary, in a world where the inequalities and contradictions of globalisation are evident, religion – what Karl Marx has characterized as the opium for the people – has even been strengthened in the form of new fundamentalisms (Christian, Muslim, Hindu, etc.). However, the most influential communal idea of modernity is nationalism, sometimes perverted into national-chauvinism (Széll 2005). When combined with racism, this has quite often led to fascism (Polanyi 1944), the worst plague of the 20th century. Nevertheless, a principle of social life is: no reaction without a counter-reaction. From the very early days of bourgeois society, countermovements began. Against the backdrop of what Ferdinand Tönnies (1887) labelled as Gemeinschaft vs. Gesellschaft (community vs. society), a dichotomy seemed to exist. Around the same time, Émile Durkheim (1893) was also speaking about the tension between organic and mechanic solidarity concerning the relationship between traditional and mod­ ern  societies. Communal ideas, sometimes referring back to utopian ideals of an early communist society, were put into practice (Owen, Fourier). In fact, the cooperative movements (Dülfer & Laurinkari 1994; Münkner 1995; McPherson 1997; Széll 2007; Trappe 2001) and also the kibbutzim (Blasi 1978; Rosner 1976, 2005) were an outcome of these early movements. The critique of this new type of capitalist society with its exploitation, alienation, oppression and imperialism led to a variety of modern political movements with different, competing ideas, which have since then dominated the course of history. The free-masons have occupied an



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intermediate position since the age of Enlightenment (Bolle De Bal 2011; Bolle De Bal & Fontaine 2010; Leclerq-Bolle De Bal 2009). Forming a specific elitist community and defending the principles of humanism of early modern times, they have been quite influential within some Western societies. However, the traditional conservative forces, linked to the church and the aristocracy or local bourgeoisie, which were fighting the new liberal, entrepreneurial, free-trade bourgeoisie, united together against the dangers of the labour movements, which were usually led by intellectuals. The new Left based their movement on a particular form of communal idea, which will be examined later. The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels from 1848 is probably the most well-known, and has had the greatest impact. The other dominant movement is the socialist one in all its different forms (Birnbaum 2003; Castioradis 1973– 1979). Parallel to these, the federalist (Proudhon 1969) and anarchist movements (Bakunin 1974; Kropotkin 1968) are also worthy of note. The socialism that had been put into practice by the Soviet Revolu­ tion  interpreted the socialist idea by attempting to create a new man, via the soviets i.e. councils (Schumpeter 1943). However, unfortunately, as we know, the outcome was a state-capitalist, bureaucratic system, which largely failed and collapsed in 1989. This led the Japano-American author Francis Fukuyama to precociously declare ‘The end of history’ (1992). The People’s Republic of China attempted to apply the communal idea through the People’s Communes in the Big Leap Forward in the 1950s, which ended with Deng Xiao Ping’s economic reforms from 1978 onwards. Subsequently, the communal idea has been reintroduced in China and is based largely on the teachings of Confucius. India, which declares itself the largest democracy in the world, is still largely divided into castes, and more than 300 million people belong to scheduled castes and tribes. Even in China more than 100 million people are part of 54 minorities. In many parts of the world there are now failed states, where the only security is given by traditional social structures such as tribes, clans or families. Therefore, it comes as no surprise that one of the other typical reactions to globalisation is that local communities are strengthened. This remains the case in industrialised countries. The movement calls itself communitarian (cf. Institute for Communitarian Policy Studies; Etzioni 1993; Revue Internationale d’Action Communautaire, Montréal). However,

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the scientific analysis of this phenomenon is still largely underdeveloped. For example, the term ‘communitarianism’ appears only as a paragraph under ‘citizenship’ in the most recent and authoritative Encyclopedia of Social Theory by George Ritzer (Delanty 2004, Vol. I: 95). Against the background of the impersonality of modern societies, there exists the desire for harmony, inclusiveness and a sense of community, and this is being addressed by different movements. In so doing, traditional communities that had been undergoing demise are now reemerging (Rosner 1992). The return to traditional forms of community was encouraged by the slogan ‘Small is Beautiful’ (Schumacher 1991). Building identity is a precondition for any community and communal idea (Széll 1992, 2007). The collective memory is an essential element of it. Initiation rites and socialisation transmit and foster the respective communal idea (Shore 2003). This introduction can be summarised with the statement that in the past there was not just one communal idea, but several, which competed with each other then, and will continue to do so into the future.  Participation in Politics and Society at Large Democratic participation is central to building any community (Bruyn 1992; Kester & Pinaud 1996; Lesemann 1992). Participation is by definition ambivalent (Bolle De Bal 1989, 2000). Firstly, distinction should be made between passive and active participation (Gramsci 2000). Active participation is linked to modern, democratic societies. In the last 200 years, different forms of active participation have developed, notably within political parties, trade unions, social movements (women, ecologists, pacifists, …), cooperatives, companies, local, regional, national and supranational institutions as well as in organisations. Democracy in the Western sense is based on the notion of the zoon politikon, meaning that every individual is a political being, so by his or her very existence a political entity as part of society and its decisionmaking process is formed. However, we know from the Greek polis that even at the beginning of democracy some were more equal than others (cf. George Orwell’s Animal Farm, 1946). Unequal participation rights are a widespread phenomenon – not only in the Greek polis, where only about 10 per cent of the population had these rights. Women and slaves had none, and it was easy for citizens with rights to lose them (Canfora 2006).



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Another criterion for the quality of democratic participation is its intensity. Does this take place only every four or five years through general elections? Or are there also referenda? What are the quora and conditions? On what level? From what age? Who is included or excluded? What about those who are living abroad or are absent on the crucial day? Can only nationals take part, or all inhabitants? Who has the passive rights of elections? Can elected people be revoked? The Soviet Union and its satellites were a special case. ‘Soviet’ means council. So, principally it means a basic democratic approach. The conflicts and the unhappy outcome of Marxism-Leninism, i.e. Stalinism’s ‘socialist realism,’ are well known. Unfortunately, for generations the communal idea and democratic participation have been sullied by this experience. In some countries (North Korea, Vietnam, Cambodia, Cuba, Burma) this experience still continues with the same devastating results. The dominant theories – e.g. rational choice – regard the individual as the core of the political and economic (market) system (compare with the notion of the zoon politikon, mentioned above). Certainly – as neoliberalists argue – competition is one of the main elements of all human societies. But it is another issue entirely if this notion is deified as the only principle of human action. Recent anthropological studies demonstrate that cooperation is at least as fundamental as competition for humanity (Tomasello 2009). And where should final decision-making occur? Should it be taken to its lowest possible level, namely where the subsidiarity principle prevails? Is the political body a federation or even a confederation? Or is it a centralistic structure? What is the power of bureaucracy? What about corruption (cf. Transparency International)? What about vote-rigging, manipulation and falsification of results? What about the role of lobbyists and consultants? What about the calibre of politicians and the trust we have in them? How about the role of political parties and other organisations such as trade unions – i.e. collective action and rights? There is also the role of religion, education and the media to consider, and, similarly, that of clans, ethnic divisions, geography and size of communities (Marti 2006). All in all, the quality of the civil society – a rediscovered concept – is essential for democratic participation. Traditional methods for building community – although not necessarily in a spatial sense – were associations, foundations, clubs, etc., which, in principle, applied the rule of one person, one vote, in other words full equality.

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On the other hand, new forms of solidarity and collective action within non-governmental, non-profit organisations (Amnesty International, Greenpeace, citizens’ movements …), have been spreading globally over the last several decades. Democratic participation is at their very core, although it is not always practised, because these organizations miss often clear registration of membership and therefore decision-making structures. Finally, an issue which has driven the feminist movement, and which has been largely embedded into the democratic discourse, is gender bias. The strategy of a quota system has been implemented in some areas in order to address this, and has now been launched in the business world, too. The late Chinese leader Mao-Dze Dong stated that women are half of heaven. Undoubtedly, the world still has a long way to go to secure equal gender participation in decision-making in all realms of life. All these elements of democratic participation have a large impact on the communal idea and its practice.  Participation in the Economy Over the last century, specific forms of participation in business have developed, i.e. in the form of co-determination, organisational democ­racy and so on. (Lammers & Széll 1989; Széll 1988, 2004). The distinc­tion between direct and indirect participation (works councils, shop stewards, co-determination, co-management …) should be clarified. Historically, participation strategies have moved from hetero-management via comanagement to self-management. Existing forms remain relatively marginal and are under permanent pressure from the dominant capi­ talist market economy (kibbutzim, welfare economy …). Passive participation has developed quickly as a counter-strategy of capital to involve workers better into its logic. Forms of this have been yellow unions, financial participation, pro forma participation, and so on. The most perverse form of passive participation was realised during fascism (Gorz 2001). The State itself is intervening in participation, not only regarding participation that directly affects it, but also by regulating forms of participation in the economy and the institutions and organisations of social security. It is at this point where it is necessary to differentiate between the macro – including the national and supranational –, the meso and micro levels as well.



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The market as such is also ambivalent. It has two facets: consumption and production. The individual participates passively as a consumer, but, as a participant in the production process, s/he is active. Trade Unions – following the tradition of guilds – have been a driving force of modernity, social justice and workers’ participation. Still today, they are the largest democratic organisations. However, they face big challenges and in certain respects they are in deep crisis (Széll 2012). Out of the trade union movement not only emerged the labour parties, but also political movements such as syndicalism. One wing of the labour movement, the orthodox or dogmatic one, mainly communist, fought for the social(ist) revolution, i.e. to overthrow the bourgeois regime through violent means. The other wing, the reformist one, argued for an evolutionary strategy, which is enshrined by the social-democratic parties and most of the trade unions (cf. the Kautsky-Bernstein debate: Kautsky 1909; Bernstein 1899). The German social partnership is perhaps the best illustration of this approach. Certainly there were, and still are, other factions within the labour movement which pursue other strategies, namely the anarchists, Trotskyists and proponents of workers’ self-management. The latter had its greatest influence in Yugoslavia (Estrin 2010; Tito 1983) and the Algerian independence movement as well as in the early years of the Algerian Republic (Clegg 1971). There were also instances of this in Peru (Booth & Sorj 1983). However, the idea of general self-management (Bourdet 1970) was largely lost after the disintegration of these regimes. What mostly remains is micro-self-management in the form of individ­ ual  self-management (Karoly & Kenfer 1982; Kenfer & Goldstein 1981; Marshall & McHardy 1999; Sarafino 2010). The social economy – mainly in the form of cooperatives – is another approach for implementing the communal idea and democratic participation (Széll 2011b; CIRIEC). Its basic principle is that neither the market nor profits are its main objective but, instead, the fulfilment of social and economic needs (Széll 2011d). With 800 million active members, it is the fastest growing economic sector in the world. From their very beginnings, cooperatives have been the practical implementation of the communal idea. Framework conditions such as having umbrella organisations are essential for their success (Vanek 1970). A new tendency is expressed by the self-help groups, although actually this was already the case at the very beginning of the labour movement (Dash 2005). Also, the availability of micro-credits has strengthened local communities over the last two decades (Yunus 2008).

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Businesses – mainly in Asia – have discovered the value of the com­ munal idea in promoting its own production and productivity (Széll 2001). So far, this chapter has been considering participation in the con­text of production. However, consumption, distribution and circulation are at least as important for the communal idea and its practice (Marx 1973).  Passive and Fake Participation The communal idea and its practice in the 20th century, however, has seen only partial success, but sadly, and perhaps even more so, its story has been one of passive and fake participation. An early study on this was written by the French author Gustave Le Bon in 1895 with his ‘The Crowd: A Study of the Popular Mind’. Politicians, namely fascist leaders, have clearly made some use of his findings and ideology. “It is arguable that the fascist theories of leadership that emerged during the 1920s owed much to Le Bon’s theories of crowd psychology. Indeed, Adolf Hitler’s Mein Kampf drew largely on the propaganda techniques proposed in Le Bon’s 1895 book. In addition, Benito Mussolini made a careful study of Le Bon’s crowd psychology book, apparently keeping the book by his bedside.” (Wikipedia 2011)

Large parts of the petty bourgeoisie, which had lost its material base, its economies, its identity, its power through the lost war and globalisation, were longing for a leader (Führer) to overcome their weakness after the First World War and Black Friday 1929 (Franke 1988). Unfortunately, the resurgence of fascism, i.e. neo-fascism, brought back communal ideas in a brown or black shirt. Populism builds on the same logic: us against them. Xenophobia, racism and ethnic cleansing are the same ingredients that are used in fascism. Based on a national-chauvinistic ideology, the indigenous population, is supposed to be ‘better’ than the others, especially immigrants – even if the latter have been living within the state for centuries – like the Jews, or the Sinti or Roma. Similarly, this gives rise to all kinds of fundamentalism based on religion sometimes combined with ethnicity. After the Second World War, the lonely crowd (Riesman, Denney & Glazer 1950) was looking for a community. In the U.S.A. – the most religious Western society – religious communities are providing this sense of belonging for many. In the same way – not always, but often out of religious origins – for several decades now communitarism has been developing, also spreading to other segmented societies like India. Instead of



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the distant and hegemonistic nation-state, the ‘small is beautiful’-feeling is becoming a way of life (Schumacher 1991). Corporatism (van Waarden 1992) is also a response to the communal idea in a specific form: several separate communities form together into pillars in order to achieve a consensus instead of continuing to fight as they have done over the last couple of centuries. As no community could dominate the cultural and political hegemony, such as Catholics against Protestants, it is a kind of historic compromise. Until recently, the Netherlands had become exemplary in this kind of tolerance. A certain communal idea is also present within the different mafias, the Chinese triads, the drug cartels in Latin America, in other words, all kinds of criminal organisations. Also the youth gangs in Los Angeles – some 100,000 people – form new communities with their own value systems and codes of honour. They all have their own system of values and honours, i.e. their own communal ideas and practices. In weak states and societies, these organisations or communities can replace the public authorities. Let us turn now to another relatively new form of communal idea, which has so far not been included in the debate and research: the participation in fake or imagined communities like sports, fan clubs, Love/Gay parades or tribes, etc. The French author Michel Maffesoli characterizes as ‘tribes’ those lonely people who perform the same kind of behaviour – e.g. jogging in the Bois de Boulogne (2000). Although this may be farfetched, it seems that these people share some common behaviour, bringing them spontaneously together. Mass participation in sport or music events, or other large gatherings, create communities, which materialize in fan-clubs. The commercialization of these communities is one of the fastest growing economic sectors. Consumerism is another aspect of this development. In fashion, brand names are the backbone of new communities: the Gucci, Prada and Chanel people. The virtual worlds of ‘friends’ on Facebook (750 million people), Twitter, Google+, LinkedIn, 123people, Xing, Yawn are another dimension of participation, which is egalitarian, although functioning through commercial advertisements. Computer games communities are another dimension of this kind of participation. This Brave New World (Aldous Huxley) also embraces alternative lifestyles, alternative housing, etc., e.g. LOHAS = Lifestyles of Health and Sustainability; LOVOS = Lifestyles of Voluntary Simplicity; Freegans, a new group of people dealing with the issue of sustainable consumption. (The word is a combination of “free” and “gan”.)

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But how can democratic participation be assessed in all of this? Democracy research has to tackle this issue. If we regard science as an important element of Enlightenment and civil society, let us continue with the question about democratic participation within science itself. We speak of ‘scientific communities’, so it seems that science itself has some communal idea, based on peers, their reviews and violence-free discourse (Habermas 1984, 1989). The reality is far removed from this ideal(istic) picture. The struggle for survival in the scientific community is a widespread phenomenon (Lemaine 1969). Academic freedom is frequently subsumed by capitalist constraints and/or political control. Since 1978, research on democratic participation has been con­centrated within the Research Committee ‘Participation, Organizational Democracy and Self-Management’/RC10 – formerly ‘Participation, Workers’ Control and Self-Management’ – of the International Sociological Association. There is also research carried out by the International Labour and Employment Relations Association (Ilera) – formerly the International Industrial Relations Association (IIRA) – the Study Group 4 ‘Workers’ Participation’ since 1992. Also the European Trade Union Institute/ETUI is concerned with Workers’ Participation. The Institute for Workers’ Control, founded in 1968 in Great Britain by Tony Topham and Ken Coates, had quite a short-lived existence. The same holds partly true for the research committee ‘Sociologie de l’autogestion’ (sociology of self-management) within the l’Association Internationale des Sociologues de Langue Française (International Association of French-speaking Sociologists), founded in 1982 by Yvon Bourdet, Olivier Corpet and György Széll. This research community did not survive the end of the Cold War and the neo-liberal turn. The review ‘Autogestion et Socialisme – Etudes, débats, documents’ (1966–1978), renamed ‘Autogestions’ (1980–1986), died out even earlier. Out of the Yugoslav experience of workers’ self-management (Széll 1988), the International Association of the Economics of Selfmanagement was founded in 1967: it organized several international congresses and until 1992 published the review ‘Economic Analysis and Workers’ Management’.  Perspectives ‘No future!’ was the slogan of young people a couple of years ago. After the recent global economic and financial crisis, this position seems to be



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more understandable than ever before. If we enlarge the picture, with one billion people without proper drinking water and two billion suffering hunger daily, it becomes even gloomier. But there seems to be some hope. The ‘Los Indignados’ from the Puerta del Sol, the revolts in Tunisia, Egypt, Yemen, Bahrain, Libya or Syria are asking for real democracy and participation (Hessel 2010, 2011). It is the privilege of the youth to be angry and to reinvent the world; however, it becomes critical if there is neither historical knowledge nor respect for the legacy of older generations and experience. Even the World Social Forum, which started in 2001 with its slogan ‘Another world is possible!’, seems to have been forgotten already. It is true, most jobs today – even in the OECD countries – are precarious, not to speak of the Third World, where most jobs are in the informal sector. No democratic participation is feasible in these sectors. ‘The one-dimensional man. Studies in the ideology of advanced industrial society’ by Herbert Marcuse (1964) analysed the situation of the working class in the developed world nearly fifty years ago. Marcuse came to the conclusion that the proletariat in the rich countries profited from the exploitation of the poor in the Third World. Hence, it had no interest in a social revolution. Therefore, the only hope for bringing exploitation to an end lies in the proletariat of the Third World. In effect, several socialist revolutions took place – from Algeria via Tanzania to Nicaragua and many others. In 1961 Frantz Fanon’s ‘The Wretched of the Earth’ was published, several days before he died at the age of 36. It was a trigger, and had a lasting influence on decolonisation. In this way, it can be argued again – after the age of Enlightenment and political literature in the 19th century – that the written word may have an influence on history. Still the West was not yet ready for a radical change. No alternative to the really existing capitalism? Thanks to the Vietnam War and other conflicts, a world-wide protest movement started in 1967, culminating in 1968 (Széll 2009). The establishment was criticized. Even within the churches, demands for democratic participation were proclaimed and the Second Vatican Council from 1962 to 1965 responded to these demands, at least in part. Within business, ‘Job power’ was the demand of the day (Jenkins 1973). In Eastern and Central Europe, uprisings which had begun in 1953 and 1956 climaxed – in parallel with the West – in the Prague spring of 1968, asking for more democracy as well. This period, however, was short – as was the dream of ever-lasting prosperity (Lutz 1984). Counter-revolutions started quite quickly (Chile, Brazil, Greece, etc.). Although the break-up of the Soviet Empire did not bring

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the end of history, it did bring with it a set-back for democratic participation. It was the heyday of neo-liberalism after the defeat of the reality of socialism in 1989 and with it an alternative to the capitalist system. Socialist communal ideas were regarded with suspicion. But history is fortunately and unfortunately not a linear process, and this shapes the dreams of progress for all those jostling for power and influence. Dialectics prevail. There is no power without a counter-power. Nevertheless, trends may emerge, such as slavery having been largely abolished and generally equal rights for men and women, and so on. Therefore, there might be a general tendency from hetero – via co – to self-determination. Here the Trade Unions – still the biggest democratic organisations in the world – have a special role to play (Széll 2011a). One example of a step in this direction is the European and Global Works Councils. Preconditions for democratic participation are competence and control (Széll, Cornforth & Blyton 1989). This can only be realised through education, ‘Bildung’ and training, which are the driving forces of Enlightenment – the very reason of all science (Sünker, Farnen & Széll 2003). The biggest challenge for humanity is social and ecological sustain­ ability. This again can merely function through democratic participa­ tion.  Within this, corporate social and ecological responsibility/CSR is an important strategy (Széll 2006). Another issue in this context is the strengthening of regional and local levels, i.e. the meso-level, as it is easier to practise democratic participation at these levels. For this purpose, researchers and practitioners from all over the world created the International Network ‘Regional & Local Development of Work & Labour’ (RLDWL) in 1999. The European Network ‘Regional & Local Development of Work & Labour’ has also been in existence since 2001. This leads us to the question of what role Europe can play. Ten years ago, I wrote ‘New Democracies and Old Societies in Europe’ (Széll & Ehlert 2001). Its message still holds true, even though the European Union proclaimed in 2000 with the Lisbon Agenda that by 2010 it would become the leading Knowledge-based society in the world, combining social and ecological sustainability. This is now in trouble. 2010 has passed, and we are confronted with financial and other crises. The hope that European Social Integration may serve as a model for other regions – especially the emerging economies – namely the BRIC countries, i.e. Brazil, Russia, India and China – has vanished (Széll, Kamppeter & Moon 2009). In any case, the future of humankind, and with it, the future of democratic participation, will be decided in China – for better or worse (Széll 2010). The Peking



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Consensus – i.e. authoritarian rule with a market economy – seems to be replacing the Washington Consensus, i.e. democracy and the market. The future of democratic participation between the market (shareholder value) and organisational democracy (stakeholder democracy) is therefore open. Power today – not only the economic one – lies within capital, and it includes cultural hegemony (Gramsci again). But it is the role of the civil society, including the intellectuals, to discuss and demonstrate alternatives, i.e. concrete utopias (Bloch 1995). The Belgian author Marcel Bolle De Bal introduced in French the notion of ‘Reliance’ – i.e. to overcome alienation (1985, 2011). It is to be hoped that this volume is another contribution to that humane, democratic perspective.

COMMUNITY: GREATLY NEEDED BUT HARD TO ACHIEVE Timothy Miller  Introduction This chapter is an essay as much as an academic monograph, with musings that come from a quarter-century of studying the history of the world’s, and especially American, intentional communities. It argues five propositions: That today’s world needs community. That many of the world’s people yearn for community. That community-building is often blocked by contemporary social forces. That in spite of the many roadblocks they face, some intrepid souls are nevertheless pressing forward to build intentional communities in forms designed to meet the needs of the twenty-first century. That academic communal studies can and should contribute to actual community-building rather than just observing and theorizing.  The Necessity of Community We live in a world that needs community. Community is a buzzword on the lips of many, but it is not unreasonable to speculate that never before in human history has real human community been in such serious decline as it is today. Especially in the “developed” countries of the Western world, egotism and selfishness have become paramount values in the modern era, while traditional values, such as close, nurturing community, have marched steadily toward oblivion. Humans were originally communal, living in extended families and peer groups without which individuals would have had a hard time surviving. Our closest animal relatives, the primates, whose DNA we share heavily, live not in isolated nuclear families but in extended families and clans. Evolutionary biology suggests that a deep need for community, for human connection, is firmly planted in the human soul. That said, community does seem to have been relegated to the back burner. We moderns are individualists, and our egocentric ways have us

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drowning in our own material and cultural excesses. What I would call the crisis, or at least the malaise, of the contemporary world is made up of elements quite familiar to all of us. Foremost, in my own not-so-humble opinion, is our continuing assault on our common global environment. For many decades we have known that our lifestyle is devastating the earth, but our excessive behaviors just get worse, not better. We continue to pour carbon dioxide and other gases into the atmosphere, making global warming an environmental disaster we are already experiencing. We continue to drive ever more cars ever more miles, consuming more and more petroleum, paving over farmland, and pouring vast quantities of greenhouse gases into the air we breathe. We spray endless tons of fertilizers and pesticides and herbicides on our farmland, thus altering the vital chemistry of both the earth and the water that runs off the land. We cut down vast tracts of forest land, the lungs of the earth, and we destroy yet more land by strip-mining. The ozone that protects us from deadly ultraviolet radiation has been diminished due to our activities. We continue to tolerate nuclear accidents and to create nuclear waste that will be with us for hundreds of thousands of years. But nothing is new in those observations. Instead of making this essay a catalog of the ills of the world, let me simply affirm that plenty of them exist. In addition to environmental degradation, we have crime. We have poverty. We have widespread social injustice. We have racism. Prejudice against women, against homosexuals, against certain ethnic groups, and against unpopular religions thrives. War and other kinds of violence remain ever with us. So where do these terrible, seemingly intractable, social problems come from? I would argue that they stem from a variety of human activities. Industrial capitalism has led to a society in which a small elite controls enormous resources while vast numbers waste away in poverty. Urbanization has contributed to an unwholesome physical environment. Our technology has fueled our race into a world of anti-community. Our cars have given us sealed little anonymous environments in which we do not have to interact in a human and personal way with others. Television has taken us out of the public square and isolated us in our living rooms. The vast flow of information now coming through computers takes us out of libraries and has us sit alone in front of digital screens. Western culture glorifies rampant individualism of the worst kind– not the kind that embraces creativity and diversity, but the kind that promotes a “me first” attitude and puts the selfish interests of the individual ahead of the common good; more about that presently.



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The causes of our social situation are many and complex, but they are of our own making. Ultimately, perhaps, they arise from human nature itself. But certainly one prime element of the social crisis is the breakdown of community. Where the tribe, the family, the clan once dominated one’s life, alienated isolation now reigns supreme. Without community our world is simply falling apart. I disclaim any ability to discern a perfect solution to this situation. Indeed, I am convinced that we are so entrenched in our destructive behaviors that we will not make great headway against them in my lifetime or in my great-grandchildren’s lifetimes unless some dramatic catastrophe grabs and shakes us. Because we do eventually need to make some headway against them, however, I believe that we need to propose the best solutions we can and start working on them. If not us, who? If not now, when? At the risk of sounding simple-minded, I argue that the solution to the breakdown of community is the creation of more community. The world is calling out for it at this difficult moment in its history. I recognize at the outset that there are many types of community, so many that ultimately the word loses a great deal of its specific meaning. Broadly speaking, community means building intimate and supportive human relationships. It can mean neighborliness, or simple gestures of charity, helping the downtrodden and unfortunate. The word “communitarianism” is now used in the United States and elsewhere by some to denote this kind of pursuit of broad, common values in opposition to the prevailing pattern of individualism. Most of us can endorse that program, at least in its general intent. Anything we can do in the direction of bringing people together for the common good surely deserves applause and assistance. Community, however, can also mean something deeper, or at least more specific, than that. It can mean an overhaul of one’s lifestyle in which one not only tries to live a good and helpful life but also tries to use one’s life to bring about deep social change in concert with others. For those whose level of dedication to their ideals is especially high, living in an intentional communities is an excellent way to pursue that goal. Although the number of persons living in intentional communities is small, communities do provide a crucial model of another way of life that the people of the world need to see. Or perhaps I should say “models,” in the plural, because intentional communities take a wide variety of forms. Some today, as in the past, continue to be heavily communal, with all

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members living from a common treasury and giving up virtually all private property. Some have a heavy focus in a particular religious outlook, or in a similarly central secular philosophy such as environmentalism or social egalitarianism. The traditional religious communitarians, such as the Hutterites, are still an enormous part of the overall communal scene. The kibbutzim of Israel remain world leaders as communal pioneers. The many egalitarian communities founded during the last forty years or so are continuing to make an enormous contribution. The world of community is a diverse one.  The Desire for Community Is Widespread and Deep I have so far argued that the world needs community, despite (or especially because of) community’s precipitous decline in modern life, and now I want to shift a bit and argue that communitarian decline notwithstanding, people all over the world do long for community. That hypothesis is just about impossible to test definitively, but a number of indicators point in that direction. One bit of evidence for the desire for community can be seen in the classified advertising section, called “Reach,” in Communities magazine. In every issue there are advertisements seeking members for established communities, but also quite a few ads for new communities, typically ones that have not yet been actually launched, that constitute notices of concrete visions of community, at least, in the minds of would-be founders and members. In the latest (at this writing) issue of the magazine (Summer 2011), for example, people are invited to join a Quaker com­ munity in upstate New York, an arts and ecology center within a longstanding community in Oregon, a cohousing community in British Columbia, a small rural community in the Sierra Nevada foothills in California, an ecovillage in Missouri, a spiritual community in Arizona, a classic egalitarian community in Virginia, and a cohousing community in California. They are also invited to help start new communities–a permaculture-based community in Ohio and an urban residential cooperative in Hawai’i. Another bit of evidence for community-mindedness is the traffic on the Fellowship for Intentional Community website. That site attracts about 66,500 hits per month, or about 2,200 a day, with 6.5 page views per visit, and the numbers for 2010 were up 11% over 2009. While not everyone visiting the site is in the market for community, surely the numbers reflect



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to some degree interest in intentional communities–if not living in one, at least wishing. Video sales also indicate increased interest in community. The FIC reports that it sold over 1000 total copies of the two volumes of Geoph Kozeny’s video “Visions of Utopia” in 2009, and that included more sales of volume 1 than had been reached in any of the 7 years it has been available. Communities attract attention from the broader public as well. There is a steady, if not huge, stream of media coverage of communities, as in the case of a photo feature on East Wind community in National Geographic in 2005. And there is a steady, if again not huge, stream of visitors to communities–not just sightseers, but in many cases persons looking to live in an intentional community. The desire for connectedness seems inescapable. Although a bit farther on I am going to criticize electronic media, the fact that such media have become enormously popular in the contemporary world has to be rooted in major part in a desire to be in contact with others. One of the most explosively growing components of the new media, the social networking websites (Facebook, LinkedIn, MySpace, and many others), are all about being in touch–so much so that millions of devotees devote huge numbers of hours to them daily. For all of the interest there seems to be in intentional communities, however, the numbers of persons actually living in intentional communities is tiny–a very small fraction of 1% of the population. Counting the number of active communitarians is a daunting task, to say the least, but the numbers are not large. I decided I would count up the population of the hundreds of American communities in the 2007 edition of the Communities Directory, and in very round numbers that came to something like 10,000 adults living in communities of five or more members each in the United States. But there are so many problems with the numbers that getting within even a couple of orders of magnitude is dubious. For example, the Adidam community lists its population at 1060. But that apparently includes many locations, the majority of them outside the United States. On the other hand, the Bruderhof communities don’t provide any numbers at all, and that group of communities, with a membership thought to be in the low thousands, has enough members that its numbers alone would have quite an impact on any total figure. Beyond that, the most important skewing factor of all is that huge numbers of communities choose not to be listed in the directory.

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So I took another path toward trying to make an estimate. The Catholic religious communities keep careful track of their numbers; in 2007 they reported 13,428 priests, 60,715 sisters, and 4,904 brothers, for a total communal population of 79,047 (www.usccb.org). There are two other groups of communities with five-figure populations, the Mormon fundamentalists, who are thought to have perhaps 30,000 communal members, and the Hutterites, who have around 15,000 in the United States. So that puts us at around 125,000 communitarians. Now, here is the wildest guess of all: I’m going to conjecture that there are 5,000 other intentional communities averaging 10 members apiece, which would be another 50,000. Add that to the 125,000 we already have, and, just to be cautious, let’s report the total as a range: 150,000 to 200,000. The point of all this guesswork is to say that not a lot of people live communally. Given an American population of over 300 million, 150,000 is fewer than 1 in 2,000, less than 1/20 of 1% of population; 200,000 is fewer than 1 in 1,500, less than 1/15 of 1% of population. And take out the Catholic communities, which are linked to a larger tradition that provides a support system, and focus only on independent, freestanding communities, and the numbers are even more drastic. In the United States we probably have fewer than 100,000 such communitarians, which comes to fewer than 1 in 3,000 Americans, less than 1/30 of 1% of the population. Although I have not constructed similar estimates for other countries, I suspect the numbers would be similar. Communal living is simply not a mass movement.  Why Community Is Terribly Hard to Achieve So why is communitarianism not a mass movement, if so many people long for community in their lives? One answer is that community in the broad sense does not necessarily involve a residential situation that meets even a fairly minimal defini­ tion  of intentional community. The communitarian desires of many can be met through various nonresidential forms of close relationships– churches, social organizations, political organizations, fraternal organizations, and many other such institutions. But that’s not a complete answer. A gap remains. Why do intentional communities remain so marginal in contemporary society? Many who have considered the disconnect between a widespread desire for community and the difficulty of starting actual communities and getting them to function well have focused on what might be called



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internal issues–things such as interpersonal relations, decision-making processes, leadership, and financial strength. Many accounts of communal life, especially of short-lived communities, talk about internal bickering, conflicts between leaders and the rank and file, and inadequate work skills on the part of members, especially when a community is trying to make a living through agriculture. Take just about any issue of Communi­ ties magazine over the last several years and you will find those things– especially personal relations and group process–discussed at length. However, issues that could be called external may be more important than the internal ones. Western society, in particular, has structures and attitudes that discourage communal ventures. Here are some of the ways in which our contemporary lifestyle impedes the development of communal living. One rather fundamental problem is what I will call, for lack of a better term, basic selfishness. The ethos of the contemporary Western world seems to be predicated on a me-first approach to life, something that is about as contrary to communitarianism as anything could be. Little acts of me-first rudeness are all around us, as in the case of neighbors who needlessly park half blocking the common access road and make it hard for the rest to get through, whose free-range cats methodically kill the songbirds others try to attract, and whose dog is left outside to bark all night. The “Reach” pages of Communities magazine bring this me-first tendency into focus quite clearly: while in every issue several communities advertise that they are looking for new members, just as many ads ask for new seekers to join a community founder’s new or prospective venture. In other words, I don’t want to work within someone else’s vision; I want people to help me implement my own plan. Everyone wants to lead, and few want to follow. That kind of attitude really negates any possibility of community, since the diminution of the will and the ego are essential to any communal venture. Individualism is deeply ingrained in us, and that is one fundamental reason why most people don’t join communities, despite their manifold attractions. Another basic problem, one that could be solved legislatively but probably never will be, is zoning. Zoning laws have existed in the United States for less than a century, so when the Shakers and Harmonists and Amana colonists set up shop, for example, zoning was one problem they didn’t have to worry about. When they bought land, they could use it as they liked. If they mixed commercial, industrial and residential uses in some unconventional way, no problem. But since the early 20th century zoning has been implemented in much of the country. The desire for

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zoning is certainly understandable; I don’t want my neighbor to sell her house to make way for a 24-hour fast-food restaurant with a drive-up window and bright lights and lots of litter. However, zoning laws, perhaps inadvertently, have seriously impeded intentional communities. In most parts of my city if more than three people occupy a house, they must all be related. That means that my lesbian neighbors, a couple with children who are forbidden by law to marry and who are the best neighbors you could ever want, could be run out of their home if a moral crusader were to go after them. If such innocuous people are threatened by zoning laws, how much more are communitarians unable to pursue their dreams? I know of an intentional community in the United States that has around sixty resident members and tries to keep an utterly low profile in order to avoid attracting attention to itself. The community is located in a county whose officials have bulldozed two intentional communities they deemed illegal, so the remaining community’s fears are not exactly unfounded. How unfair is that? Building codes also can play a discouraging role. Many communitarians have deep environmental concerns and often want to experiment with new, sustainable types of construction. Building codes often do not allow such experimentation. Another broad category of modern anti-communitarian forces at work in our society consists of technological devices, including many that almost all of us use. Perhaps the biggest offender here is the automobile, which, despite its enormous convenience, seems to bring out the worst in many people who use it. Where I live people are fairly courteous with each other face to face; we open doors for others, we say please and thank you, we wait our turn in line rather than cutting in. Yet many of the same people act aggressively and rudely and irresponsibly all too often when they are behind the wheel of a car, running red lights and cutting people off and speeding at just about all times. Although someone who did a controlled study of motoring behavior might come up with some other answer, my own conclusion is that the automobile is an inherently isolating device, one that enables relative anonymity, and that it seems to give the anonymous driver a chance to behave in an unfriendly way without really being seen. I’ve wondered, sometimes, if we would have more courteous driving if the name of each principal driver were painted onto the car in large graphics. If the automobile is anti-communal, so is television, and as television technology progresses, it seems to draw ever more people away from social interaction. Entertainment was once largely communal; people



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would mingle with others at dances, concerts, plays, and other such events held in public spaces. Television in the home, which the average person in the Western world watches for several hours a day, draws people away from such activities and reinforces the value of being alone. Even worse than television, at least potentially, is the near-universal spread of the mobile phone. People once walked down the street looking at the people around them, looking at the surrounding environment, and occasionally greeting those they encountered, but today hordes of people walk everywhere with telephones held firmly to the sides of their heads. That primary focus on mobile conversation tends to lead them to avoid eye contact and to withdraw from other interaction. We know, of course, how vital the typical mobile phone conversation is. On campus the ones I overhear usually go something like this: “Oh, not much. What’re you doing? Maybe I’ll go find something to eat. Want to talk later? Give me a call.” I have instructed my students not to use their phones in class, but then I go to faculty gatherings and watch people there texting rather than paying attention to the work at hand, or jumping up and running out of the room to take calls at will. Many of us worry about the danger of mobile phone use by drivers; research (not to mention common sense) has shown that drivers who use phones are more dangerous on the road than they would otherwise be (McKnight and McKnight 1993). Text messaging while driving, of course, is much worse than that. But I digress. Bad driving is hardly the only product of mobile phone use; decline of human community is just as serious. Incidentally, one byproduct of mobile phones is also unfortunate: we are experiencing a serious decline and soon, probably, the extinction of telephone books, where we can locate each other easily–another anticommunal outgrowth of modern technology, in other words. Computers have brought a lot of convenience into our lives, but they too can be seriously anticommunal. Initially the computer was a great means of social contact for far-flung intentional communities, but its net effect has moved strongly over to the dark side. Probably the biggest culprit is social networking, which, although it does promote personal interaction, puts people in front of monitors or on their mobile phones rather than in direct personal contact with others. Once again prospects for community are hindered when they should be helped. Even air conditioning takes its toll on community. When the weather is hot, most of us like to stay inside where it’s cool. That’s not a very good way to interact with one’s neighbors, and it certainly has nothing but negative environmental impacts.

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Alternatives to all of these isolating technologies exist. We can do much of our moving about with public transit and walking; we can find entertainment live instead of on television; we can, at least for the moment, still find public telephones in public places if we do need to communicate while away from home or office, and therefore do not really need mobile phones. Front porches and public swimming pools and sensible building construction can help minimize the need for air conditioning. We can gather, at least occasionally, face to face instead of on Facebook. But that’s not the way things are headed in these last declining days of Western civilization. I don’t want to leave the impression that technology is the sole culprit in the decline of communal values, or the sole impediment to the growth of intentional communities. There is one other social presence that might be even worse than isolating technology, and that is a suspicion of cooperation that is both wide and deep. That suspicion would seem to be a product of modern history. Charles Nordhoff, writing in 1875, could call his book The Communistic Societies of the United States without undue controversy, and others in the communities movement of the nineteenth century used the c-word in a positive and uncontroversial way. The twentieth century, however, was the era of evil communism, a totalitarian version of Marxism. Until the fall of the Soviet Union and its related states twenty years ago there was no more horrifying word in the English language than “communism,” and although today its definitive horrifics have been replaced by terms such as “Al Qaida” and “terrorism,” its demonizing power remains strong. Socialism too remains a term of enormous opprobrium, as we have seen in the United States when universal health care is labeled socialist and therefore condemned. The effect of anticommunist and antisocialist fervor on intentional communities is not just hypothetical. In the 1930s American communitarians were acutely aware of the persecution they faced when their way of life became known, and tended to keep their profiles low. In the 1940s the New Deal communities of the Resettlement Administration and other agencies, which helped thousands of families up from abject poverty through cooperative rural projects, were summarily shut down by Cong­ ress precisely because of their collective nature. A few years earlier public officials in the state of Arkansas became determined to purge the nest of radicals at the communal Commonwealth College–note that name, Commonwealth–from their midst, and in 1940 state action did effectively put the college out of business.



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All of these things add up to a powerful anticommunitarian bias in contemporary Western life. Intentional communities, especially in their modern forms as ecovillages and cohousing, have a great deal to offer a world with pressing social and environmental problems. But the forces running in the other direction are formidable, and if the communities movement is to rise to its full potential, those forces must be identified and dealt with. That is a project of enormous dimensions.  Hopeful Signs Despite the pessimism of what I have just written, there are hopeful signs for the future of intentional communities. Some communities do manage to persevere over long periods of time. Some new communities continue to come into existence, attesting to the ongoing strength of the human desire for cooperation. And other cooperative projects are present as well, serving a broad segment of the public. It is a truism among observers of intentional communities that communities tend to be short-lived. Statistics would be hard to come by, but it is probably a safe guess that on average communities survive for less than five years. However, although many communities are begun with the highest intentions and then fold disturbingly quickly, a sturdy minority of them do persevere over time. The longest-lived of all are the ones that are attached to larger, noncommunal religious traditions. The Buddhist sangha, which consists of a plethora of monastic institutions found throughout the world, is surely the oldest ongoing communal movement in the world. (Here I mean by “communal” groups that have voluntarily separated themselves from the larger society, and not groups in which cooperative arrangements are the social norm, as in the case of tribes of indigenous peoples.) Christian monasticism is almost as old as Christi­ anity itself, and has been present in structured form since the time of Benedict of Nursia (480–537). It remains a strong tradition of Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodox Christianity, and also has some presence among Protestants. More recent groups have often survived for centuries as well. The Hutterites, who arose among the Anabaptist wing of the Protestant Reformation in 1528, are nearing their 500th birthday and are robustly alive in hundreds of colonies with tens of thousands of members. The kibbutzim of Israel, also with hundreds of colonies and tens of thousands of members, have just celebrated their centennial and although many of

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them are currently going through a time of reorganization, their dura­ bility is remarkable. Meanwhile, new communities continue to come into existence with surprising frequency. Two types of secular communities represent the cutting edge of the communities movement today: cohousing and ecovillages. Cohousing traces its beginnings to Denmark, where its underlying ideas were discussed in the mid-1960s and took concrete shape during the following decade. By the early 1980s cohousing was spreading elsewhere, and by the 21st century it consisted of thousands of communities in dozens of countries. Simply put, a cohousing community is a condominium development in which each individual resident or family owns a private home and shares common facilities that vary from one community to another, typically including, at a minimum, a “common house” for various social activities, including some meals. Actually, however, the concept underlying cohousing is not very new; housing developments that incorporate both public and private spaces have been in place for a long time. The Amalgamated Housing Cooperative, located in the Bronx, New York, USA, was founded in 1927 and has long had many of the kinds of cooperative features (day care for children and cultural and social activities, for example) that cohousing now has. The Celo community in North Carolina, USA, is a land-trust organization that resembles cohousing and has been in place since the 1930s; it is so attractive that it has a long waiting list for prospective members. Cohousing has put a new face on residential cooperation and has, by its rapid growth, demonstrated that the appeal for living in proximity to others remains a powerful human impulse. A variant that seems to be growing in popularity at this writing is senior cohousing, in which individuals and couples provide support to each other as they grow older and their needs for assistance increase. The aging population of the Western world would seem to portend a bright future for this form of intentional community. The other “new” development in the communal world is also not entirely new, although like cohousing it has put on a new face and has adapted itself to the needs of today’s world. Ecovillages are essentially small hamlets whose residents are devoted to mutual support and to living as sustainably as possible–building with low-impact materials, using energy minimally (and producing much of it onsite), raising food in an environmentally benign way, and so forth. The motivation that drives the ecovillagers is awareness of the world crises to which I referred at the



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beginning of this chapter: we live in a world whose resources are being taxed in a way that is leading us toward environmental disaster. The ecovillagers are, usually, retreating to the countryside and trying to live in a way that is much more harmonious with the environment than is modern industrial society. They seek to make good and sustainable homes for themselves and to show the world how low-impact living does not necessarily mean returning to third-world subsistence existence. They also seek to cultivate close human relationships among their members. Although each ecovillage is different, most erect energy-efficient buildings (often of straw-bale construction), generate power from wind and sun, farm organically, process their wastes sensibly, and recycle and reuse materials wherever possible. Permaculture, which seeks to create sustainable ways of living by developing permanently renewable fuels, food production, housing, and other systems, is the watchword of many an ecovillage. Most ecovillagers are pessimists in that they see the coming demise of industrial civilization, but optimists in that they think there is still time to develop ongoingly comfortable and sustainable ways of living. They see ecovillages as a way to draw the attention of the larger society to the crisis and to offer a model of a new way forward.  How Academic Communal Studies Can Help Academic communal studies, which could make a real contribution to the restoration of community as a vital and functional pillar of human culture, is a field inhabited by only a tiny handful of scholars, communitarians, and preservationists. Some few hundreds of thousands of persons (I estimate) live communally in the world today, as I conjectured earlier, and a relatively few more support the communal ideal through such intercommunal organizations as the United Kibbutz Movement, the Ecovillage Network, the Fellowship for Intentional Community, the various European communal networks, and other such groups. Academics who study the phenomenon of intentional community, those who are involved in the International Communal Studies Association, the (American) Communal Studies Association, and their sibling groups, number in the hundreds, or perhaps a thousand–few indeed. Yet despite our small numbers I am convinced that our attempts to understand and promote community, including intentional communities, are vital. While I would not be so arrogant as to say that communitarians and communal studies scholars uniquely have all the answers the world needs, I do believe that we have some

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saving knowledge–some idea of how we can make human culture point its future in a better way. The puzzle is for us to our learn how to apply our understanding to a world that stands to benefit greatly by having it. Those of us who work as academics are as a matter of principle supposed to be impartial observers and analysts, not advocates. In that spirit I believe we must try to keep our work reasonably objective, but nevertheless I believe that the focus of our studies needs encouragement as well as observation. It seems to me entirely reasonable to believe that the massive celebration of individualism of the destructive sort, of anticommunity, of the last two or three hundred years has produced some dreadful consequences, and that a return to community in its many forms, and the development of more intimate and supportive human relationships, are major parts of the answer to the problem–and that academic communal studies can help us get from here to there. And that, in short, is why I think academic communal studies matters. My many scientist friends have made huge contributions to human wellbeing through their work that has led to the wonders of modern medicine, among other things. I would only hope that communal studies scholars could have the same dedication to a socially beneficial outcome to their work. Academic communal studies is for and about scholars, but it also has far broader implications than that. Two of our leading academic orga­ nizations, the Communal Studies Association and the International Com­ munal Studies Association, fully and eagerly embrace not only academics but also practicing communitarians. My larger academic involvement is in religious studies, and when I go to the annual conference of our major national professional association, the American Academy of Religion, I find myself in the company of about 8,000 scholars of religion and only a tiny handful of practitioners who are not also scholars. That has its value, but it doesn’t ignite my passion the way the communal studies organizations do. The interaction between scholars and practicing communitarians, and of course the inclusion of many individuals who are both at once, is a key part of the genius of those groups. I would go farther and say that the two principal constituencies of our organizations, the scholars and the practicing communitarians, actually need each other. For scholars I suppose that’s obvious: we do, after all, need subjects for our research. As a scholar I would say that if intentional communities did not exist we would have to invent them, if only to keep us in bread and butter. But the other side of the equation is equally important: communi­ tarians and communities today need scholars. Some communities are



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suspicious of scholarship of the type practiced in modern universities and close themselves off, but most do not, fortunately, and over time most do come to realize just what they have to gain from scholarly attention. A major reason why communities need scholars is that communities, for all their strengths, are widely regarded by the general public as cesspools of odd and deviant human behavior. In the United States the word “commune” is hardly used any more because it carries so much negative baggage. A word with an even more negative connotation than “commune” is “cult,” or Europeans would say “sect,” which in popular use may basically be defined as a group of which one disapproves, which one thinks is somehow sinister or dangerous. And for many citizens of the modern world, there’s really no difference between commune and cult. People who do things differently are suspect. It has been the case over and over that when an intentional community tries to buy land on which to establish itself, local people resist letting these undesirables into the neighborhood. Once a community gets established and the neighbors find out just how positive it can be for the neighborhood, then things change. But the social stereotypes and prejudices are enormous, by and large. A case in point: in Chicago, Illinois, USA, a large Christian commune called Jesus People USA has been in operation for over thirty-five years. It has several hundreds of members and thus is hard to ignore, and over time its neighbors have come to see the dedication and hard work of the members, as well as their provision of extensive social services to the poor and homeless, and members have had reason to think they were overcoming all of the typical anti-communal prejudices and settling in as respectable members of society, even if a lot of their members continued to look like punks and hippies. Then, a few years ago, the Chicago Tribune newspaper published a scathing series of articles, based heavily on accounts provided by hostile ex-members, that pulled just about all of the classic stereotypes into play: these people were brainwashing their members so that the leaders could control them. They were amassing huge amounts of money for which they were not accounting. The leaders were living very well while the common members were living in poverty. And so on and so forth–everything that is commonly believed about “cults” was there. JPUSA struggled mightily for a long time to reclaim what should rightfully be a positive public image. And how did it undertake that? In significant part it did it with the help of outside academic scholars. Over the years quite a few scholars have come to know a lot more about the real nature of the organization than a newspaper reporter with a negative agenda did. Those scholars provided statements in rebuttal of

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the manifest errors and misjudgments of the newspaper stories, and thus helped JPUSA overcome unfair and biased criticism. Another contribution scholars can make to communities is the provision of an understanding of history. Intentional communities have been around for thousands of years, and often the past has lessons that can be exceedingly useful to the present. Scholars can provide those lessons for communitarians who can genuinely use them. After all, we don’t need to reinvent the wheel every time someone decides to start an intentional community. Furthermore, scholars can evaluate and constructively criticize intentional communities, which, it must be said, do not always recognize some of their own shortcomings and problems. *** One of the best known of the American communes of the 1960s era was the Farm in Tennessee, USA. Beginning as a loose group of spiritual seekers in San Francisco, the people who eventually became the residents of the Farm piled into a long caravan of buses and finally, after months on the road, settled down to build a commune. Today they continue to perform tireless work for social and environmental justice and reform. About three years after arriving in Tennessee they published what was one of the most evocative primary documents of the communes of that time, a colorful book called Hey Beatnik: This Is the Farm Book, written largely by the Farm’s charismatic leader Stephen Gaskin. One of the short articles in the book is entitled “This country needs in great numbers to become voluntary peasants.” Stephen made a clarion call in that essay: That’s why I go around the country … : to try to talk to lots and lots of people. … And it says on the front of our bus: OUT TO SAVE THE WORLD. That phrase is chosen from the old thing, “Well, I ain’t out to save the world, but …” We are. Out front. I don’t know anything else to do that seems worthwhile. I can already feed myself. I already was a college professor. Not as much fun as this. Want to help? (Gaskin, unpaginated)

*** Note: Some of this chapter is based on talks given at conferences of the Communal Studies Association and the International Communal Studies Association, and I appreciate the feedback of colleagues there. A part of the chapter appeared, in a different form, in Communities magazine no. 151 (summer, 2011).

COMMUNAL ASPECTS OF CONTEMPORARY LIFE Shulamit Reinharz  Introduction Since sociologists began conducting research and writing theory, they have been concerned about social cohesion (e.g. Harriet Martineau, Alexis de Toqueville, Emile Durkheim, Jane Addams, Talcott Parsons, Robert Putman). There are those, such as Emile Durkheim, who thought society pressed too hard on individuals, leading to instances of suicide. On the other hand, there are those who believed that social ties were too few, weak and loose, leading to hyper-individualism and anomie, a state of affairs that was similarly destructive of individuals. A major proponent of this point of view is Robert Putnam who used the analogy of bowling to make his point (Putnam 2000). In the halcyon days (whenever that was), Putnam claims, people bowled in teams that met regularly and created strong social bonds. Bowling itself was less important than the ties that were continuously reinforced.1 Currently, however, people bowl alone. They go for the bowling and don’t know the others at the bowling alley. This shift symbolizes the breakdown of social bonds. The sociologist with perhaps the strongest affiliation with communal living, aside from sociologists who live on kibbutzim in Israel (e.g. Uri Levitan, David Mittelberg, Michal Palgi, Menahem Rosner, Lionel Tiger and others), was Jane Addams (1860–1935). In 1889, ‘without any preconceived social theories or economic views’, this educated, single, middleclass woman ‘came to live in an industrial (i.e. poor immigrants) district of Chicago.’ (Addams 1910). Soon, through a gift of a wealthy patron, she established Hull-House, where she and her fellow sociologists and social workers lived, and into which she invited the neighborhood. The resulting phenomenon was called a settlement house, sometimes a place where people lived communally while they served the local community. It may be that the critics of loose ties have the upper hand, because the end of the 20th century and start of the 21st are characterized – at least in 1 See William Foote Whyte’s description of bowling in the North End of Boston, in his Street Corner Society (University of Chicago Press, 1942).

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the highly developed countries – by the “individual search for community.” This desire for community is manifest in many ways detailed in this chapter. On one extreme, various forms of communal living can satisfy the desire for community. In its weakest form, amassing large numbers of friends (and pseudo-friends) on Facebook can satisfy this need. This chapter describes a wide variety of responses to the search for community, some of which approximate communal living and some are far removed. The 21st century is likely to be characterized by communalism of various sorts in constant tension with hyper-individualism characterized by decreasing family size and the resulting unprecedented tendency for people to live in one-person households. Currently the Fellowship for Intentional Community keeps a roster of about 250 communes around the world2 that abide by the principles of communal living plus complete sharing of resources. The most striking aspect of this list is the number of communes listed as "forming". If this information is accurate, then it may represent an uptick in the attractiveness of communes in the future.  Rejecting Labels, Promoting Their Meaning When Barack Obama was running for president of the United States, one of the ways his detractors hoped to discredit him was to label him a “socialist.”3 The problem here is intellectual confusion. The word “socialism” has terrible connotations generally in the U.S. because it has come to mean rejection of the free-market concept and a limitation on individual reward for effort. Even though most people realize that the market is not actually free, but rather is completely entwined with government protections, they still want to believe that meritocracy and supply/demand control the economy, not special interests. Socialism is also a word embedded in the names of two countries against which the U.S. went to war – National Socialism (Nazism) of Germany and the United Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR). Many people reject the word as radical and dangerous, but actually uphold all of its beliefs. in this way, "socialism" as a word has properties similar to “feminism” as a word. Sometimes called the f-word (with ridicule 2 For some unknown reason, they list only 5 kibbutzim. 3 See http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/03/13/AR200903 1301899.html.



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and linkages to foul language), feminism is linked (improperly) with women who hate men, don’t shave their legs, and are ugly. It matters very little if people who call themselves feminists have none of these characteristics. The communal idea is similarly painted with a tainted brush. Com­ munes connote the 60’s, a time when young people didn’t wash but did take drugs and engage in free love or sex orgies, as was seen in Woodstock Festival news coverage and the ensuing extremely popular film.4 The media had a field day describing what went on in the communes of the time. But, once the communes settled down to deal with everyday issues, the media lost interest, and thus the American population thought that the communes had all folded. In an ABC News article of June 22, 2004, writer Dean Schabner says, “The word ‘commune’ may be out of date, but according to people who still live in them, the ideals behind those ‘get back to the earth’ efforts are not, and they say they’re making a difference in many different ways.” And it may also be the case that people support communal ideas even though they reject the word. And they will continue to support those ideas, as long as we don’t label them as communal.  Housing in the 21st Century There are many examples of people living somewhat communally these days, without their applying the label to themselves. In fact, CommonInterest Developments (CID) are the fastest growing form of housing in the world today. The range of CID’s include condominiums, timeshares, cooperatives and others. “The ownership benefits of a CID are to have rights to an undivided interest in common areas and amenities which might prove to be too expensive to be solely owned. For example, an owner would like to have a pool but cannot afford one on their own. But if buying a condominium with a pool in a CID of one hundred units, an owner would have use of that pool for basically one-hundredth the cost due to sharing this cost with the other 99 owners. Timeshare, or Vacation Ownership, is the same concept. Where buying a second home

4 Woodstock” is the 1970 documentary of the event that took place in August 1969 at Bethel, New York. Entertainment Weekly called “Woodstock” one of the most entertaining documentaries ever made. It received the Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Wadleigh.

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for vacation purposes might not be financially possible, buying a week or two can be when sharing the overall costs with other participants.”5 Popular examples of CIDs are apartment dwellings run as a condominium or a cooperative, otherwise known as condo or coop. The condo is an association of homeowners who have private apartments as well as shared ownership and responsibility for common property, such as the roof, the landscaping, etc. Elected representatives decide on issues concerning the shared property, and by law, there must be at least one open meeting per year in which share-holders (i.e. apartment owners) can raise any issues they wish. Unlike a full commune in which people’s resources are shared as well as their collective costs, in a condo, only the costs for the shared property are shared, and people have private ownership of their apartments. Nevertheless, unlike a private home not embedded in an association, the condo and coop arrangements have a communal element. A co-op shareholder does not own real estate, but rather has a share of the legal entity that owns the real estate. In the co-op run apartment building, shareholders have the right to decide who moves into the other units.6 Many condo associations hire doormen whose work duties include regulating who enters the building. In this way, an apartment building functions like a gated community whose purpose is to ensure the quality of life on the inside, by keeping outsiders out. Gated communities have a mixed reputation. Sociologists bemoan the fact that creating a barrier between segments of a community further breaks down the fragile social cohesion that exists in American society. They see gated communities as a tool of the rich to keep out the poor or dangerous. Other studies have found that it is not only the wealthy who want to live in gated communities, but also much less affluent people who want the perceived safety that gated communities provide. In fact, in a national study of gated communities in the U.S. based on the Census Bureau’s 2001 American Housing Survey, researchers found that “renters who are more ethnically diverse and less affluent (than the wealthy whites) are nearly 2½ times as likely as homeowners to

5 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common-interest_development. 6 Another entity, called a co-operative housing corporation, means that individuals or families work together to directly construct their own homes in a cooperative fashion. They purchase building materials in bulk and co-operate with other members of the co-op during the construction phase of the co-operative. Once the housing has been completed the members usually own their homes directly. In some cases, roads, parkland and community facilities continue to be owned by the co-operative. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Building_cooperative.



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live behind gates or walls. Here the shared commodity is not necessarily the swimming pool but the secure environment in which one can raise children.7  Eating Communally in the 21st Century Living somewhat communally is also evident in food purchasing. Once again the emphasis is on shared ownership and the power of pooled buying rather than shared resources (i.e. people don’t share their incomes, but they purchase together). In contemporary food cooperatives, workers or customers own the business that provides what they define as high quality grocery items at lowest possible prices. These foodstuffs are available only to their members. Coops can take the shape of retail stores or buying clubs.8 All food coops are committed to consumer education, product quality, and member control, and usually support their local communities by selling produce grown locally by family farms.9 There are websites that deride buying clubs and warn potential members that the quality of goods is lower than average, and prices may be higher than typical retail.10 On the other hand, other websites promote buying clubs in terms of their numerous advantages: • Get to know other people with similar interests from your community • Support organic farmers • Be a part of a cooperative food system that is owned and operated by people who use the products • Learn new skills, such as using a computer or bookkeeping • Revitalize your neighborhood, small town or rural area by providing access to products that might not otherwise be available • Learn more about natural food, nutrition and cooking.11 Unlike in apartment condos and coops, the members of a food coop do not live together (usually) but consume together. The members and their organization typically do not consider themselves only a buying club, but   7 http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/2002-12-15-gated-usat_x.htm.   8 Some high volume stores such as Costco, B.J. Club, and Sam’s Club require customers to buy membership in order to shop, but those who become members do not own shares in the store. Rather, their “membership” fee is an avenue for increased profit by the actual owners.   9 http://www.localharvest.org/food-coops/. 10 http://www.pcguide.com/buy/ven/src/onlineClubs-c.html.   11 http://www.unitedbuyingclubs.com/.

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rather an institution that can promote change in the way we eat, the way we treat our communities’ economic welfare and the way we care for our planet.  Cooperative Services Other forms of cooperative organizations that characterize life in the start of the 21st century are child-care centers in which the parents bond together to share services for all the children involved. Similarly, pet care cooperatives have been established where members care for each other’s pets in a system of equitable exchange. Another example of religious institutions with its new form called “minyan” (singular, or minyanim plural). In this form, the group of Jewish people come together to engage in prayer, holiday celebration and lifecycle events. They do this without owning space (e.g. a synagogue) or hiring professionals (e.g. a rabbi). Instead, all the members of the minyan or group take on all the needed roles, and the minimal dues are used to rent space. In one example, Minyan Shalem in Brookline, Massachusetts, the group meets weekly for services and is completely volunteer-run with elected officers. Just as the food co-ops promote values designed to improve the world, so too the minyanim. Thus, reflecting the promotion of non-discrimination and inclusivity, Minyan Shalem describes itself as a diverse, multi-generational community made up of singles and couples, traditional and nontraditional families. Similarly, whereas in some traditional settings, children are discouraged from participating because they are noisy, Minyan Shalem stresses that children “are an important element of our community and are always welcome and encouraged to participate.” For this reason, the group provides a weekly Shabbat service for children from two and a half to six years of age. Most important of all, members of Minyan Shalem (and all other minyanim) “organize and lead all aspects of the service, provide kiddushes and periodic lunches, and perform all administrative tasks.”12 It is reasonable to ask how this is possible. The answer is that the community is made up of people who know how to read the Torah, sing the Haftorah, lead the prayers, and give the sermons. Although the website states that all Jews are welcome, regardless of ability to pay, this communal group cannot exist without sufficient numbers of members who have unusual levels of Jewish ritual competence. 12 http://www.minyanshaleym.org/.



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The examples described above – apartments, food purchasing, daycare, pet-care, and religious organizations -are just a few instances where communal elements have become part of everyday 21st century life without provoking criticism of “socialism.”  Collective Labor A more controversial area is labor unions, i.e. groups of workers who join together for collective bargaining and improved working conditions. In the U.S., many more areas of work have become unionized than the traditional auto manufacturers or dockworkers. In an employment setting that is unionized, the individual does not negotiate conditions of her/his work. Rather the designated union personnel act as representatives of the individual workers and bargain with the employer on the members’ behalf. The elements of negotiation typically are of ‘wages, work rules, complaint procedures, rules governing hiring, firing and promotion of workers, benefits, workplace safety and policies.13 Unions typically strengthen the bargaining power of the individual but may, of course, depress the benefits that some workers might have obtained on their own. Any 21st century person who is a member of a labor union is entrusting his work conditions to a communal structure – in this case not a residential or service commune but rather one that determines his/her working conditions. Labor unions are not confined to manual laborers, but also include professionals such as teachers and professors. In state run institutions, all faculty members must belong to the union or pay a similar amount of money as the union members do (currently $1000/year) and then negotiate privately. Promotions and salary increases are linked to rank, years of service, and collective bargaining. In Massachusetts, for example, the Massachusetts Teachers Association (MTA) ‘represents 107,000 members in more than 400 local associations – the vast majority of educators, administrators and education support professionals in public education, pre-kindergarten through higher education.’14 Educational professionals who do not wish to have their conditions of work governed by collective rules and bargains have the alternative opportunity to work in private educational settings.

13 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trade_union. 14 http://www.massteacher.org/memberservices.aspx.

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A recent book I co-edited with Michal Palgi analyzes key developments in kibbutz life over the past 100 years in Israel. Whereas some sociologists and critics see the kibbutz as a dying form, data show that for the most part, kibbutzim are alive and well, but changing dramatically to be less communal and more of a blend between a communal component and an attached private component (Palgi and Reinharz 2011). In the United States, we have not seen this kind of transformation, but we still do have communes, some thriving and some not. According to the Fellowship for Intentional Community, the term “commune” should refer only to ‘communities that share their income and resources completely, or nearly so. They range from small to large, urban to rural and Christian monastery to secular anarchist collective. They are found throughout the United States and around the world.’15 Communes tend to be ideologically motivated. The ideology has to be strong enough to compel the individual to break away from mainstream society and to keep the individual separated once he/she joins. Communes vary to the extent that the individual feels free to come and go, or to criticize the community. Some religious sects have set up communes that abuse women and children – these seem to show no signs of abating. Members of free communes, on the other hand, typically engage in consensus decision-making and attempt to live without hierarchical structures, two ideas that were particularly important for founders of communes in the 1960s. Nowadays, beside the concern for a flat social structure and transparency, communes typically are dedicated to sound ecological living, a value that is increasingly popular throughout the United States. In an article in The New York Times, Andrew Jacobs contrasted the communes of the 60s, which he labeled “free-love refuges for flower children” with the communes of the ‘90s. The latter, he claims, are ‘well-ordered, financially solvent cooperatives where pragmatics, not psychedelics, rule the day.’ (Andrews 1998). The message he is delivering is that communes are respectable places in which to live.  Temporary Communal Living In addition to the stable long-term communes that currently exist apparently in large numbers in the United States, there are also communal 15 http://directory.ic.org/records/communes.php.



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living arrangements in which the members live for a temporary period of a year or more. Young people engaged in social justice work that involves service to the local community populate many of these temporary communal living arrangements. Two examples within the Jewish world are the Moishe House and Avodah. Founded in 2006 in Oakland, California, the Moishe House is a network of communal homes designed to serve young Jews ages 21 to 30. Within three years, 27 centers were established in eight countries. In exchange for the residents’ creating a vibrant Jewish community, Jewish philanthropists subsidize their rent. The intention of Moishe Houses is to enable post-college-aged young adult Jews to connect meaningfully with Jewish life by forming relationships with their housemates. Moishe House is analogous to a full-immersion language learning program or even a summer camp where people live together for the purpose of achieving a goal. As the residents get older, change jobs, or marry, they are likely to leave, which is compatible with the goal of the house. The second example of Jewish temporary communal living is Avodah, the Jewish Service Corps. Each year, Avodah accepts volunteer Jewish college graduates in their 20s from across the United States to spend a year working on urban poverty issues as full-time employees in local non-profit agencies. The group in each city that sponsors Avodah consists of approximately 18 people who live together in a single house. Their work to create satisfying communal home relationships is as significant as their work to root out the causes and consequences of poverty. Through living and studying together, the group becomes a ‘community of people making a connection between social activism and Jewish life.’16  Conclusion No one can predict the future, not even sociologists, economists or meteriologists! But this overview of the current status of communes, communal living, and the communal idea after the first decade of the 21st century leads me to three conclusions. First, to succeed in attracting people, the word “commune” is best replaced by words without the connotations of hippies in the 60s. Second, communes are emerging throughout the world, and they are being seen as important vehicles or temporary living arrangements in which people can explore their values. And third, although communal living with complete resource-sharing will likely 16 http://www.hillel.org/tzedek/partner/AVODAH.htm.

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remain a marginal activity, there are many aspects of contemporary life that have communal components. These include services, labor unions, housing arrangements, obtaining food, and more. The ecological movement, which defines single-person households as ecological disasters, will combine community-seeking groups such as worshippers to strengthen these communal components. Only those communes that cut themselves off from society (e.g. gated communities) will themselves create more divisiveness.

IN THE COLLECTIVE INTEREST: JOB QUALITY Chris Warhurst and Katherine Trebeck  Introduction Jobs provide valued material, psychological and social benefits. Most people spend a huge proportion of their lives at work and, whilst some workers want reduced hours, most are happy with what they have or even want to increase their working hours (Warhurst et al. 2008). Even ideas about reconfiguring society, whether abstract and predictive (e.g. Marx 1946) or concrete and existent such as the kibbutz (e.g. Warhurst 1999) emphasize homo faber. Some jobs however are better at delivering the benefits than others. Even during an economic downturn, it is not enough that jobs are created; as the OECD puts it, what is needed are ‘more and better’ jobs, the type of jobs that offer sustainable and decent economies and societies. Job quality matters therefore and, as we show in this chapter, there is a collective interest in improving job quality. For most of the past two decades governments in the OECD countries have focused on creating good jobs, most obviously through policies aimed at stimulating a ‘new economy’ of knowledge or creativity-driven jobs (see for example Reich 1993; Ross 2009). However there is evidence from across OECD countries that a polarisation is occurring of good and bad jobs, which is exacerbated by the global economic downturn. These bad jobs also matter; they impact negatively on individual workers, their families, the wider community and society generally. It is in the collective interest therefore that bad jobs be made better. Unfortu­ nately, the quality of these jobs has been ignored. Instead, governments have a ‘work first’ approach by which the unemployed or economically inactive have been levered into work (OECD 2010) often targeting bad jobs with little consideration of the consequences other than to lift these people into work. At best governments in the UK and US have introduced remedial interventions to shore up these bad jobs, most obviously through the introduction of tax credits to supplement low wages but there has been no attempt to prevent bad jobs in the first place (in part because the ideological space within which ideas about how jobs might be improved

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has been vacated by progressives). The consequence has been that bad jobs have flourished, rising in number both in the UK, US and other OECD countries (Gautié and Schmitt 2010). This chapter outlines why job quality is of collective significance, how the ideological space became vacated and why it is important for progressives to re-enter that space to help make bad jobs better. It then indicates a number of ways in which better job quality can be levered. It making its points, the chapter draws on secondary data on developments and issues primarily in the UK and US but its argument has a wider resonance. What we show is that there is a collective interest in job quality that needs to be asserted and pursued. Public policies should continue to support the creation of good jobs but should also focus more broadly on job quality, recognising the collective interest in improving the quality of jobs deemed ‘bad’.  Job Quality Is of Collective Interest The debilitating effects of being unemployed have long been recognised, most famously by Maria Jahoda (1981). In the context of the current economic downturn, Richard Freeman (2010) even asserts that unemployment kills, in the sense that it shortens life expectancy. Having a job levers a range of material, social and psychological benefits: access to resources such as housing and food, social networks and support, and mental well-being (Butterworth et al. 2011) It is in this context that ‘work first’ polices operate; believing that having any job is better than having no job (e.g. OECD 2010). However research has found that the benefits of shifting from unemployment to employment are not axiomatic. Moving from unemployment to a low quality job actually results in a ‘decline in mental health relative to remaining in unemployment’ according to Butterworth al. (2011: np) for example. Given the impact on wider society (and health budgets) of poor mental health, making bad jobs better is in the collective interest. The mantra of ‘work first’ fails to consider the quality of the jobs that workers enter and the impacts on well-being that arise from bad jobs. The obvious conclusion is that the ‘work first’ approach to employment policy needs to be rethought and reconfigured to envelop job quality. Unfortunately there is no universally accepted definition of job quality. Skill and pay feature prominently in many accounts of job quality (Clark, 2005). Typically, good jobs equate with high skill and high pay;



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bad jobs with low skill and low pay (e.g. Goos and Manning 2007). However, there are other markers such as type of employment contract, job security, training and progression opportunities, employee voice and social dialogue, job satisfaction, work organization and task discretion, management style and fairness at work, hours flexibility and work-life balance (see Carré et al. 2012; Galiie 2007). Long-term structural changes to the economy driven by a shift from manufacturing to services and a more educated workforce were supposed to deliver good jobs – and it was assumed that technology would eradicate bad jobs (Holmes 2011). In reality the UK and US economies have polarised into good and bad jobs – or what economists Goos and Manning call ‘lovely’ and ‘lousy’ jobs – with the gap between them widening (for the US, see Wright and Dwyer 2006). In both of these countries, the income of workers in the top pay decile has pulled away from that earned by middle and low income workers over recent years. In the UK, whilst wages at the very bottom have flat-lined, and those of the bottom half of all wage earners begun to coalesce, those are the top are still increasing (Plunkett 2011). Significantly and worryingly, wages have become decoupled from productivity growth for middle and bottom income earners. The same is true in the US, although here that decoupling is most stark at the top end, where the incomes of senior management have grown strongly whilst company performance wilted. For example CEO remuneration, including salary, shares and other benefits, is now 300–400 times higher than that of the average worker. As traditional manufacturing industries declined in the OECD countries, the number of (relatively) stable and well-paid work opportunities fell – a decline which has not been offset by the more recent growth of employment in the service sector (retailing, catering and increasingly, call centres) (Crisp et al. 2009; Helms and Cumbers 2005). Often the new jobs do not represent ‘quality work’, constituting instead a ‘more dynamic and insecure working environment characterised by casualisation, low pay and deskilled work’. It is an economy, these authors state, that is also characterized by fixed term contracts and the increasing use by employers of temporary staffing agencies (Helms and Cumbers 2005). In the UK, the TUC estimates there are two million ‘vulnerable workers’ in precarious, low-paid, and insecure employment (TUC 2008 cited in Crisp et al. 2009:19) and research from across Europe shows that it is women who are most precarious and vulnerable (Oxfam International and European Women’s Lobby 2010). Within this polarisation, the ‘wellbeing returns’ to employment are not equally enjoyed. Eichhorst (2011) observes that the hourglass labour

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market means that previous inequalities between the employed and the unemployed have been overtaken in significance by the divide between groups in work, and that polarisation undermines the possibility for workers to progress from low skilled and low paid jobs to better remunerated roles with better conditions. Thus for better and worse, job quality impacts a number of levels: individual, family and society. At the individual level jobs are associated with individual identity, sense of security and self-esteem (Becker and Paulusma 2011); so much so that jobs impact health and life changes. Social status through work impacts individuals’ sense of self-esteem and self-worth, which in turn have been linked to mental and physical health (BBC 2009; Clark 2006; Hanlon and Carlisle 2009). It has been found that temporary workers have shorter life expectancies than those with permanent contracts; poorer mental health outcomes are linked to precarious employment and workers who feel insecure in their work have poorer mental and physical health and are more prone to suicide (Becker and Paulusma 2011; Wilkinson and Pickett 2010). Good job quality provides workers with more effective skill and knowledge use, and more control over tasks, which again link to providing individuals with a sense of identity and self-esteem and ‘having control at work’ is the key factor in death rates amongst workers (Wilkinson and Pickett 2010). Bad jobs also impact employers. Whilst there is profit in producing low cost goods and services with low skill workers on temporary contracts and low wages, such workplaces have higher incidence of absenteeism (Wilkinson and Pickett 2010) and are less productive and less innovative, which in turn contributes significantly to the performance and competive­ ness of firms. Conversely employers benefit from workers having better quality jobs, levering lower labour turnover, greater discretionary effort and incremental process and production innovations. Indeed, better performing economies are characterised by better jobs (Green 2006). It seems that job content, not just job creation, matters. Job quality also impacts on family wellbeing. For example bad jobs limit the quantity and quality of time parents spend with their children (Scherer and Steiber 2007). Low pay often means that workers have to have multiple jobs to make enough pay to earn ends meet (Crisp et al. 2009). This outcome is most prevalent amongst women, who are disproportionately employed in bad jobs (Gautié and Schmitt 2010). Poor pay and long unsocial working hours all undermine family well-being and create tensions, conflict and guilt in households – particularly because these jobs are often at very different times in the day such as early morning



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when children need to be readied for school or early evenings when children are back from school, for example. At its most basic, long working hours and split shift patterns can leave workers physically and emotionally drained, leaving little energy to interact with children – as well as with spouses and partners (Masterman-Smith and Pocock 2008). In addition, child poverty is increasingly linked to bad jobs. In the UK, the work first approach is underpinned by a belief that the quickest way out of poverty is to get a job. But work is not a guaranteed route out of poverty. Many of the jobs available to people currently on benefits or economically inactive simply do not pay enough to avoid poverty. Just over one-fifth of UK workers and a quarter of US workers receive wages below the low pay threshold (Gautié and Schmitt 2010). In the UK, the fastest growing category of children living in poverty is in households with working parents but whose jobs are too low paid to raise the family above the poverty line. In 2008–09, 61% of poor children were in work­ ing households, a rise of 11% from 2005–06 (Gottfried and Lawton 2010). Companies paying poverty wages not only perpetuate poverty but, in necessitating remedial tax credits, also reduce state funds for other methods of poverty alleviation. Moreover, as Toynbee (2003) and Osterman (2012) note, this ‘remedy’ is really a subsidy from the public purse to employers who pay poverty wages. More positively for society, work is still seen as a social responsibility and a mechanism for participation and societal integration – work is essential for citizens ‘to develop social networks and to contribute to society at large’ say Becker and Paulusma (2011: 55). The workplace has thus become a ‘crucial social institution for the identity and wellbeing of a large part of our citizenry,’ they assert (p. 54). Being socially integrated, for example, links to physical health; the less connected we are socially, the worse our health and vice versa (Wilkinson and Pickett 2010). The quality of that interaction is undermined by bad jobs in two ways. Firstly with labour market precarity, individuals are unable to find jobs that allow for social connectedness in work because they are frequently moving in and out of casualised work (Pocock and Skinner 2012; Kalleberg 2011). Secondly, workers grappling with multiple jobs and long working hours have little time to engage with their neighbours let alone community organisations and activities outside work (Masterman-Smith and Pocock 2008; Toynbee 2003). The gap that has become a gulf in job quality correlates with lower inter-generational social mobility. OECD countries with the largest income gaps, such as the UK and US, have the lowest social mobility rates,

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making the American Dream the American Illusion. Children with parents in bad jobs themselves tend to end up in bad jobs. As a result, social inequality is increasing (Wilkinson and Pickett 2010). More than half of workers in top professional jobs (judges, journalists, medics, and finance directors for example) were educated in private schools, whereas only seven per cent of the broader population were educated in these schools. These professionals increasingly have backgrounds that are 27 per cent wealthier compared to those from families of average wealth (Panel on Fair Access to the Professions 2009: 12 & 19). These high end good jobs remain the preserve not only of people from already-wealthy backgrounds but also of white men – so that job inequality has strong race and gender dimensions.1 It is not just that the labour market is becoming one that resembles an hourglass, polarising into lovely and lousy jobs, but workers accessing the top jobs are being drawn from a narrowing demographic. Not that those workers in the very highest paid jobs seem to mind, they simply pay to live apart from the poor, Wilkinson and Pickett note. The highest paid workers in the City of London for example, blame the less fortunate for their own dilemma and mock their assumed fecklessness (Toynbee and Walker 2009). As a consequence, on both sides of the Atlantic these particular workers are able to escape the pain of, if not the blame for, the global economic downturn and expose the lie of us ‘all being in it together’. These social divisions reflect entrenched income and wealth inequalities and are intertwined with deepening inequalities of power and esteem which amplify the consumption orientated modern culture that encroach­es on individual wellbeing and is environmentally unsustainable (Kasser 2002; Jackson 2009). For those forced by structural inequality to remain at the lower end of the income spectrum, the experience of inequality is often a feeling that ‘you’ve lost the competition’, breeding a sense of hopelessness and status anxiety, Wilkinson and Pickett conclude and, not surprisingly, this fuels competitive consumption and personal debt, as Juliet Schor (2000) charts when she seeks to answer the question Do Americans shop too much? This situation is socially divisive, as even some of the richest business leaders recognise – the then director-general of the UK’s main employer representative body, the CBI, warned: ‘if leaders of big companies seem to 1 See http://www.equalityhumanrights.com/key-projects/triennial-review/ for analysis of the dimensions of inequality.



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occupy a different galaxy from the rest of the community, they risk being treated as aliens’.2 Tellingly, Chang exposes a clear causal link between the stratospheric pay of workers in the City of London and the bad jobs of others: … one-sided managerial compensation packages impose huge costs on the rest of the economy while they last. The workers have to be constantly squeezed through downward pressure on wages, casualisation of employment and permanent downsizing, so that managers can generate enough extra profits to distribute to shareholders and keep them from raising issues with high executive pay (2011: 156).

If bad jobs breed bad outcomes for individuals, families and society, then improving these jobs can deliver good outcomes for individuals and their families and boost collective wellbeing by reducing inequalities, strengthening social bonds and enhancing social mobility. Recognition that there is a collective interest in job quality is timely. Toynbee (2003) has warned that society is becoming akin to a camel train in which those at the front are pulling so far away that they are disappearing over the sand dunes and are no longer in sight of the rest. It is time therefore to consider how the collective interest can be best furthered through job quality improvements. To do so first requires an appreciation of how improving job quality slipped off the policy radar.  How Did We Get into This Situation? Debates about job quality are not new. In the latter part of the twentieth century two camps fought out an intellectual war about the future of work. On the one side were the optimists, plotting a rising trajectory of good jobs through technological advances, the shift from manufacturing to services, rising education levels and worker demand for intrinsic rewards (e.g. Mills 1951; Kerr et al. 1960; Bell 1973). By the 1970s however there was recognition that things were not going to plan – the pessimists, led first by Braverman (1974), claimed to identify a ‘degradation of work’ because of the need for capitalism to pursue profit: ‘the modern trend of work’ Braverman said, is ‘mindless and alienating’ (p. 4). As Knox et al. (2011) note, lying between these two camps was another that linked job quality developments to economic cycles and the rising and falling relative strength of labour against capital (Durand 1998). 2 Quoted in High Pay Commission (2011: 5).

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With full employment and strong unions in the 1960s and early 1970s, the quality of working life/work humanisation movement wanted to make jobs better and became very influential in the US and Europe (Davis and Cherns 1975) and was adopted by the kibbutz movement (Warhurst 1999). With the Oil Crisis in 1973, worldwide recession and high unemployment, the policy emphasis shifted from improving jobs to simply having any jobs as governments focused on job creation. The quantity not the quality of jobs became the issue. As we now know, this approach was ultimately flawed, creating neither good jobs nor sustainable jobs in the UK and US. The problem was compounded by the lack of alternative models. Existent experiments to create what might be better jobs – whether in communal or state socialist societies – collapsed in the late 1980s. At the same time, in the liberal market economies, the Alternative Economic Strategy (AES) pursued by the left, which included demands for more public ownership, industrial democracy and controls international capital movements, also disappeared. In any case, the AES was not really an alternative but a safety net, an attempt to boost falling employment levels – as the renewed, and well-meaning, interest in producer cooperatives within UK exemplified.3 Resonating with Durand’s (1998) point, with labour in retreat throughout the 1980s and 1990s, employers gained the upper hand, introducing initiatives such as lean production that resulted in mean (rather than just lean) production in the workplace (Harrison 1994). During this period, trade unions in the UK and US had little real capacity to resist: frozen out of government, pre-occupied with inter-union turf wars or remodelling themselves to appeal to a declining membership. This situation enabled, and was perhaps facilitated by, a shift from collectivism to individualism in the workplace. The most obvious manifestation of this shift was the decline in traditional industrial relations involving management-union bargaining over the terms and conditions of employment, replaced by individualised employment relations with performance management systems directly communicated by management to individual workers (Rose 2004). This individualisation is evident on many levels. In policy terms, individuals are responsible for increasing their ‘employability’; they are expected to be hyper-flexible (in terms of hours and type of work) and highly mobile (in terms of job-search area). It has become the responsibility of individuals to navigate the risks and difficulties inherent in economic change. Unemployment, and employment in bad jobs, has become an individual issue, not one that



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must be addressed collectively. This patterning of work offers neither job or wage stability nor opportunities for development and progression, particularly for women (Gautié and Schmitt 2010). Short-term contracts, contracting out and short project cycles which reduce the length of time teams work together and invest in their collegial relationships also reduce opportunities to build social support and networks in the workplace. Moreover, contracts lack redundancy and sick pay, and workers are more likely to move between work and receipt of benefits. For those who can realistically only access low-skilled, low-waged employment, ‘the assumed benefits of work may be far less evident’ than they are to policy-makers and the rest of the population, notes Martin (2009). The state has been complicit in these changes to job quality. Govern­ ments  across the OECD have privatised utilities and contracted out public services, from care work to cleaning, and again disproportion­ately affecting women workers. Privatisation and contracting out are part of an agenda to downsize government and ‘hollow out’ the state (Rhodes 1994). The state no longer delivers services but is left to manage contracts, contracts which squeeze the new private and voluntary sector providers (Cunningham and Nickson 2009). In the UK the public sector union Unite has warned that ‘funding cuts [are] being carried out by local authorities, where low-paid workers who are contracted to deliver key public services are being expected to literally subsidise the state by sustaining cuts to their pay and conditions’ (quoted in Chiesa 2008: 8). As a consequence government is directly responsible for declining job quality. Contracting out in the public sector is mirrored in the private sector where many firms are increasingly adopting a ‘core and periphery’ model (Atkinson 1984). Those workers on the periphery have poorer terms and conditions of employment including pay, entitlements, job stability and career opportunities. Temporary work is precarious work and in some countries has transmuted into casualised work (see Pocock and Skinner 2012). This development has given rise to ‘widespread discontent, worry and anxiety in the workplace … not only amongst the precariat and workers in low-skilled sectors, but increasingly also amongst those who used to have “decent jobs”’ (Becker and Paulusma 2011:57). In the UK, for example, workers moving out of unemployment often face short spells of employment rather than sustained employment trajectories – a revolving door of bad and no job rather than the more useful and needed first rung of a career ladder. Employment aspirations are undermined by such negative work experiences (Seaman 2008).

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Over this period, government in the UK and US has abandoned support for interventions in work, asserting instead management’s right to manage. Government focus is now the labour market. This ‘active labour market policy’ intervened in two places. At the bottom end of the labour market it sought to lever the unemployed and economically inactive back into work – the work first approach, but which has often slipped into workfare and invariably requires remedial action by government to supplement low wages, for example through welfare benefits and tax credits (e.g. DWP 2007; Osterman 2012). Government also intervenes in the top end of the labour market by massively expanding higher education. Policy thinking in this respect was influenced by an assumption that higher skilled workers would demand more from their employers and that to accommodate these demands, employers would in turn have to improve their processes and products and reposition their companies in higher value added markets (for a discussion see Lloyd et al. 2009). This assumption neatly dovetailed with a policy belief common to both US Democrats and UK New Labourites about the emergence of a ‘new economy’ in which brains replaced brawn (Reich 1993; Blair 1998; for similar policy thinking and aims for the European Union, see EU 2004). It was even suggested that capitalism was morphing into something different and more liberating for workers. Karl Marx was partly right, Florida for example states, because the workers now own the means of production: ‘it is inside their heads’ (2002: 37). In a benign reading, these in-demand workers are now able to ‘jump ship’ at will, moving from contract to contract on the basis of personal interest and as a reflection of their treatment by employers. A less benign reading is that employees experience contract ‘famine and feast’ during which they have to maintain their own employability through self-financed and own time (unpaid) training (Batt et al. 2001; Eikhof and Warhurst 2010). Resonating with the polarisation thesis, Florida has argued that bad jobs are, in part, a function of good jobs. With workers in good jobs tending to be cash rich and time poor, a ‘service class’, to use Florida’s phrase, is needed to support these workers if their labour is to be reproduced. The jobs of the service class centre on the economically and socially important ‘3Cs’ – cooking, cleaning and caring – and usually employ women, often on part-time contracts, unprotected by trade unions, and vulnerable to unscrupulous employers (Theodore et al. 2012; Warhurst et al. 2009). In part because of their link to good jobs, these bad jobs show no sign of disappearing and, if anything, are becoming entrenched in the UK and US (Appelbaum et al. 2003; Lloyd et al. 2008).



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Moreover there is evidence that they are spreading beyond the liberal market economies to some of the co-ordinated market economies such as Germany (Bosch and Weinkopf 2008). With good jobs being the policy focus over the 1990s and early 2000s, the parallel rise of bad jobs was ignored by government. There has been insufficient attention to the existence of these jobs and too little consideration as to why bad jobs might need to be made better and how they might be made better. The public recognises the problem however: several recent opinion surveys such as those carried out in Scotland for the Oxfam Humankind Index3 asked respondents to identify what is important to their community – the results that put secure work and satisfying work amongst the top of priorities clearly show an awareness of the collective benefit derived from quality work.  Making Bad Jobs Better If bad jobs are to be made better, Osterman states, what is required is a linking of workplace practices to government policy. There are two ways in which job quality moves; firstly in relation to the stock of jobs within the labour market e.g. there being quantitatively more good or bad jobs; secondly, qualitatively through changes to existing jobs e.g. as their terms and conditions improve or degrade (Carré et al. 2012). It is important to note that there is no axiomatic trade off between job quality and job quantity: ‘The evidence could be summarized as demonstrating that quite a bit of variation in labour standards and institutions is possible with little or no negative effect (and in some cases, it appears, with positive effect) on the quantity of formal jobs’ Carré et al. (2012: 14) point out. In this respect, and to modify Osterman’s (2005) formulation slightly, government has two strategies to improve job quality – to improve the stock of good jobs or make bad jobs better. As we have noted, in recent years, governments in the OECD have emphasised the first strategy. It is now in the collective interest for the second strategy to be pursued. We noted before that most accounts of job quality focus on pay and skills. However as we also noted, what workers want from jobs and thus might comprise job quality is broader: job security, social connectedness at work and opportunities for development and progression linked to social mobility for example. Osterman (2005) notes two 3 See www.oxfam.org.uk/humankindindex

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approaches to making bad jobs better. The traditional approach typically favours wage enhancement, unionisation and regulation. The innovative approach centres on developing internal labour markets and industry restructuring. The traditional approach still has some merit. ‘Trickle down’ wealth distribution has not occurred. The rich are getting richer and the poor getting poorer and even middle income families in the US and UK are now falling behind (Plunkett 2011), with the gap between the haves and have nots increasing during the current economic downturn (OECD 2011). More equal distribution of wealth will be achieved via earnings convergence. Intra-company earnings equality is within the corporate sphere of influence, but could also be linked to state support to businesses – reciprocity mirroring the conditionality placed on welfare provided to individuals. The first steps require remuneration transparency and forcing shareholder accountability for executive pay. The incentive to use agency work and fixed term contracts should be reduced by having equal treatment for all employees (see, for example, the UK’s Agency Workers Directive 2011). However it is in the collective interest that income from work meets material needs and enables participation in family and community life. Decent standards of income have been established according to social norms by Living Wage initiatives first in the US and more recently in the UK, where a Minimum Income Standard has now been developed.4 Pay also needs to confer relative status on different roles that match their social, not simply market, value. Currently, many remuneration structures bear little relevance to the social value delivered by different roles. For example, according to the New Economics Foundation bankers destroy £7 of social value5 for every pound they generate. In contrast, some of the least paid members of UK society generate most social value: childcare workers create up to £9.50 worth of social benefits for every £1 they are paid (Lawlor et al. 2009:3). This discrepancy is paralleled by a gender bias in remuneration and job quality – jobs performed by women (particularly women from ethnic minorities) are often the lowest paid and most insecure, and yet these jobs (such as care work) are ‘often

4 http://www.minimumincomestandard.org/ 5 The social return was calculated by including economic returns such as jobs, but also incorporating attributable environmental degradation and changes in wellbeing to communities or to society.



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those that are among the most socially valuable – jobs that keep our communities and families together’ (Lawlor et al. 2009:2; also Oxfam GB 2010). While challenging, we need to recalibrate remuneration so that it better accords with social equality and social value. Moreover, whilst trade unions are in decline, with less density and coverage, they can still play an important role in both monitoring and enforcing minimum job standards and raising those standards. In their examination of job quality in unionised and non-unionised locations in the hotel industry, Bernhardt et al. (2003) found that workers in some of the industry’s lowest paid and skilled occupations, e.g. room attendants, had better jobs in unionised locations. Wage levels were slightly higher and training and progression opportunity enhanced – sometimes in cooperation with employers. As a raft of studies has shown, the presence of unions encourages employers to invest in rather than shed labour (Dunlop 1994). Collective bargaining helps empower workers who otherwise have little power in relation to employers (and whose bargaining power has only decreased as the economic downturn creates a ‘buyer’s market’ for labour). The problem is that union coverage of industries with bad jobs is often low and workers in these jobs, particularly if they are migrants, have little experience of unions. For this reason intermediate worker organisation is often needed that collectivizes experiences and interests as a prelude to mobilisation. Living Wage campaigns can provide that intermediary (Warhurst et al. 2009). Of course employers can be exhorted to improve their ways – and some may even see the light in terms of the social destructiveness inherent in job quality polarisation. There is certainly merit in naming and shaming actions by community groups such as those involved in Living Wage campaigns. However there should be no doubt that government has a regulatory role in improving job quality. It alone can legislate job quality floors, for example through minimum wages, working time directives and training opportunities. The state needs to deliver stronger and better monitoring and enforcement of individual employment rights or recognising and supporting the role of trade unions in this respect. In particular, implementing a universal quality employment contract would help (Eichhorst 2011). The state should link regulation with education and encouragement, setting minimum standards, explaining why those standards are required and how they can be good for business and society, and encourage adoption through procurement rules and fiscal incentives (though not subsidies). However the state is not just useful in shaping job quality amongst private sector employers. It too is an employer and it

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should use this role to deliver good jobs (for example, via equal pay regimes and reducing the use of agency work and fixed term contracts). The state as employer can provide a benchmark for job quality and can make the case for doing so on the basis that much of its work is of strong social value, as we noted above. These more traditional approaches to boosting job quality need to be complemented by more innovative approaches that seek to shape what happens inside firms and inside industries, dealing with the structure of the economy and demand in the labour market. Dealing with insecurity is important. Feelings of insecurity have resulted from employer-drive and employer-beneficial labour flexibility, lack of long-term job stability, lower access to education and training and encroachment on social protection (Becker and Paulusma 2011). When individuals are treated merely as just-in-time inventory, their anxiety and stress is increased and their ability to develop crucial social assets reduced. Here a tension is evident that has to be eased. As we noted, workers in bad jobs often have least time for community engagement and yet often it is community resilience that enables individuals to survive experiences of poor quality, short-lived employment, insufficient income and marginalisation from wider society. Assets of a non-financial kind are strongest as people depend on families and social networks to combat the experience of isolation (Orr et al. 2006). There is evidence of more mutual aid (informal volunteering) being provided in poor than affluent communities (Oxfam 2010) and the only dimension of wellbeing in which lower social classes report greater satisfaction than higher social classes is community (Defra 2007, cited in Jackson 2009: 40). Offering the capacity to plan and balance work with other family and community responsibilities is a crucial component of job quality. The state as buyer of private and voluntary sector goods and services can shape what firms do. The state should frame its purchases not narrowly in terms of cost reductions but long-term social and economic sustainability. Procurement should be used to change employer behaviour, favouring suppliers offering decent jobs in sustainable industries. In addition to its role as regulator and purchaser, the state can also use ‘soft power’ to shape ideas and values about jobs, distribution of work and wealth equality. According to the ONS, workers in the co-ordinated market economies in Europe are better at sharing work (cited in HM Government 2010). Instead, the UK tolerates, if not encourages, the ‘hoarding of work’ (it was the only country to opt out of the EU maximum



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working hours legislation6). Better sharing of available work is imperative. A shorter working week with decent pay should be encouraged and rolled out to allow more time for family and community involvement. This change will require a shift in the structural impetus to over-work and over-consume, displacing individual gain with community wellbeing as a priority.  Conclusion Jobs are an important source of material, psychological and social benefits. These benefits though accrue more from good jobs and can be undermined by bad jobs. Bad jobs are bad for individuals but also their families and, significantly, their communities. Given the benefits, there is collective interest in improving bad jobs. It is no longer sufficient for employment policy to have a twin track approach focused on, firstly, creating good jobs at the top end of the labour market and, secondly, a work first approach at the bottom end of the labour market. That job quantity has been deemed more important than job quality has to change. Even during the economic downturn what is needed is more and better jobs and for the positive benefits from jobs to be shared more widely. Initiatives such as the Oxfam Humankind Index enables policy debates to be refocused on the quality and distribution of jobs, rather than simply the increase in economic growth and labour market participation with­ out  regard to the nature of work created and its impact on individuals, families and communities. To affect such a shift requires not only government to change policy but progressive social science to change attitude. Indeed, it could be argued that, limited by the absence of alternative models from the 1980s, the vacating of the intellectual space concerned with job quality by these progressives in the liberal market economies has enabled more conservative voices to have the ear of government. Progressives must re-enter that space with ideas about why and how job quality can be improved, highlighting the collective significance of good jobs and how there is collective interest in making bad jobs better. Better jobs need to be championed as individual and collective empowerment (Gusenbauer 2011).

6 EU countries have a 48 hour maximum working week (Erdall 2011).

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Admittedly, for companies to buy into this change a commercial rationale for such behaviour is required. If business models that enable a focus on job quality and its link to the collective interest become more acceptable and isomorphic through government and social science leverage, then businesses will deliver solutions, not perpetuate problems. At that point job quality really does become an issue that is collectively owned.

PART THREE

A MULTI-SIDED PRAXIS

THE COMMUNAL IDEA IN 21ST CENTURY AUSTRALIA AND NEW ZEALAND Bill Metcalf  Assumptions Underpinning This Topic The title of this book appears to have an underlying assumption that there is some question, perhaps even some doubt, about the relevance of communal living in the 21st century. Critics might argue that communal living may well have been relevant in earlier times when rural living was more common, when religious passion was more frequent and ardent, and when socialism, in its broadest range of guises, seemed to be a utopian answer to the woes of industrial society? But today the argument might run, in our globalised village with instant communication within a post-modern world, communalism is as out-dated as the horse and buggy. I can find little or no evidence that such assumptions are true in Australia and New Zealand but can find considerable evidence to the contrary. In fact, I wrote about this twenty years ago and what I argued then is more pronounced today (Metcalf 1991). In this chapter I shall explore and explain this by examining Australian and New Zealand history, explaining how, while the dominant drive for communal experimentation has certainly changed over time, and has ebbed and flowed in intensity, it has never evaporated and today it is probably stronger than at almost anytime in the past. And while there are significant differences between Australia’s and New Zealand’s communal history, there is enough similarity to allow us to examine these in tandem. The following information about utopian communal groups is referenced wherever it has been adequately researched and published, while the other intentional communities are still being researched by me, and therefore their stories are not yet published.

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Australia’s first attempt at creating a utopian communal settlement1 was in 1824 when Dr Julius Jefferys,2 of the East India Company, Calcutta, sought to establish Indiana Institution3 in Tasmania. This was to be an elitist utopia, where members, being retired employees from India, would be looked after by indentured convict servants. They would recreate their old English homeland with their own elite private school (New Eton) and university (New Oxford), and would live as Lords and Ladies. Would-be members were told that Tasmania was “the most beautiful country ever imagined, even in a Poet’s dream. … No country on the face of the earth is blessed with a finer climate than this beautiful island … salubrious, refreshing and in every respect delightful.” Tasmania’s climate had such a salubrious, magical effect on elderly residents who “grow strong here, fifty miles (80 kms) is nothing for a walk”. The land was both productive and free of timber, awaiting only the human touch. The colonial government seriously considered facilitating this scheme but it fell apart through inadequate funding. (Metcalf 2008a) The first successful establishment of an intentional community in Australia was under the leadership of Johann Friedrich Krumnow, in the colony of Victoria. Krumnow was a mystically-oriented, charismatic, would-be Pastor, recently arrived from what is now western Poland. He was motivated by religious zeal to live the communal life as had, he believed, the first Christians. From an earlier, disastrous failure to establish a commune in South Australia in 1841, Krumnow seems to have learned the lesson that it was important for everyone involved to share the same utopian vision of communal living. That is a lesson with which no contemporary communal scholar would disagree. Krumnow presented himself as a faith healer, expunger of demons, missionary and prophet, with direct access to divine guidance. In Mel­ bourne and Geelong, he attracted a number of devoted followers who believed that they were following a divinely-inspired man-of-God. 1 At least as so far discovered through my research. 2 From Kent, England, he lived 1800–1877, and his surname is also occasionally spelt Jeffreys. 3 It is unclear why Jefferys chose the name Indiana Institution. Perhaps because one meaning of Indiana is “land of the Indians”, and these people called themselves AngloIndians. Another possibility is that Robert Owen established his utopian New Harmony community in Indiana, USA, in 1824, and Jefferys may have sought to connect their utopian venture to Owen’s, at least in the minds of would-be supporters.



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In 1852, Krumnow and a dozen or so followers, all recent arrivals from eastern Prussia, formally and legally bound themselves together, vowing to share all property and to follow Krumnow’s divine leadership. Their shared motivation was to live an ideal Christian life, to follow God’s teachings and, after death, to be sure of joining Jesus in heaven. They called themselves Gemeine Herrnhut or simply Herrnhut commune. The name Herrnhut was chosen because it was the place in Saxony where the Moravian Pietists formed in 1722, and this group sought to emulate them. In 1853, they settled on 642 hectares (1585 acres) of good land, in western Victoria, where they thought they could avoid the contagion of sinful non-members. They were soon living together in substantial stone buildings and had their own stone church in which they held prayer services before each communal meal. All meals were prepared and eaten together. They worked together to create a prosperous farm, growing much of their own food and enough wool to sell in order to buy whatever they could not produce. The commune grew to include about 60 adults. At a time when Aborigines were being chased off their land, and occasionally killed by white settlers, at Herrnhut commune they were welcomed. The same applied to unemployed workmen, and women escaping violent marriages. Anyone was welcome to stay, given dinner, a bed for the night and breakfast. If they wished to stay on they would be put to work on the commune. Several ‘guests’ stayed for years. Herrnhut members were motivated by religious passion to live as the early Christians lived, to share everything with each other, to help the oppressed, and to unquestioningly follow God’s will. The problem, as so often arises in religiously-motivated communes, is to agree on just what is ‘God’s will’. To Krumnow, only he knew God’s will, and he expected others to follow. In spite of various legal problems and disputes over the years, the commune persisted but membership dwindled. When Krumnow died in 1882, leadership of the dozen or so remaining communards was taken over by Louisa Elmore. She struggled to hold Herrnhut commune together but they were forced to sell out in 1889 although the last resident did not leave until 1925. (Metcalf & Huf, 2002) New Zealand’s first commune, Roots Assembly, was formed by Joseph Roots, near Wanganui, in 1874. Roots, like Krumnow, believed he had a unique insight into, and understanding of, God’s will, and he convinced his followers of his infallibility. At Roots Assembly, members pooled all income and property, worked together in a steam-powered sawmill on their farm, had their own church and school and, for a few years,

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prospered. Roots, like Krumnow, could brook no challenge to his leadership but, unlike Krumnow, he lacked charisma. His members slowly became unwilling to accept Roots’ dictatorial rule and idiosyncratic religious decisions, and the commune soon collapsed (Metcalf 2003). Back in Australia, several more religiously-based communes were established prior to 1880. Maria Heller, in 1875, established Hill Plain commune in central Victoria. Like Krumnow and Roots, she saw herself as channelling the true word of God, and was followed to Australia by seventy or so adherents from Silesia, now part of Poland. Heller believed that God had chosen her to be the mother of the New Christ, and convinced her followers that they were the chosen people who were destined for Jerusalem, but must first demonstrate their unquestioning faith in God by living together in the Australian desert. Heller worked (?) her way through several ‘consorts’ but never became pregnant. Believing that God would meet all their needs, these communards started to die from starvation, the police became involved, Heller was threatened with consignment to an insane asylum, and by early 1876 they had been absorbed by Krumnow’s Herrnhut commune. Maria Heller and her followers were the first of many communal groups in Australia and New Zealand who attracted media attention as being a dangerous cult. (Metcalf & Huf 2002, Chapters 6 and 7) Castra was formed in Tasmania in the late 1860s by Andrew Crawford, a charismatic English ‘gentleman’ from India. Utopian Castra would provide an idyllic life for retiring civil servants from India, with all physical work being performed by servants while the fifty or so members would play games and music, converse, write their memoires and generally fill their hours with ‘uplifting’ entertainment. Obviously life on the land was radically different from Crawford’s Elysian dreams, and Castra soon collapsed into acrimony and recriminations. (Metcalf 2008a) Another communal group following a charismatic leader was Aurelia, starting in Victoria in 1873. They were believers in spiritualism and sought to live an ideal life following directions from the world of the dead. They soon collapsed through poor leadership – and a dearth of clear direction. A rural commune called the Spinster Land Association reputedly formed in South Australia in 1872. Very little is, as yet, known about this group that collapsed within a couple of years − or might never have started. They were reputedly motivated by a desire to live without men, what newspapers of the time referred to as an “Amazonian Persuasion”, or



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what we might later call a lesbian-feminist-separatist commune.4 It was also suggested that they might have followed polyandry, but not a shred of evidence can be found for this and, in any event, it would not be logically consistent with their gender-separatism. Only one Australian or New Zealand intentional community from this era persists, and that is New Norcia, established as a religiously-based, divinely-inspired rural commune in Western Australia in 1859. The goal of these Benedictine migrants, from Spain, was to live life as God decrees, and to serve and offer salvation to their Aboriginal neighbours. The commune prospered and managed to adapt to changing times and demands, and persists today as not only a small communal group of a dozen or so members but also a major tourist attraction, farm and employer. (Metcalf 2008b) Prior to 1880, the predominant motivation to live communally was religious, particularly of an evangelical, mystical variety. Almost all of these communities sought to remove themselves from the general population, and most thought of themselves as uniquely endowed with spiritual insight. While some, such as Krumnow’s Herrnhut, sought to emulate and learn from other ‘successful’ communal groups, most seem to have thought that God (or other spirits) would be a sufficient guide.  19th Century Utopian Communal Experiments Post-1880 While most of the early communal groups discussed above had religious motives, after 1880 communes started to form with more secular moti­ vations such as socialism and ethnic/racial purity. The first of these was called La Cèa Venèssia, or New Italy. Its 200 or so members had followed the utopian dreamer, The Marquis de Rays, who sought to create his utopian La Nouvelle France, on the island of New Ireland (now part of Papua New Guinea) in 1880. Poor planning, incompetent leadership and outright fraud saw many of them die before the remaining 200 or so reached Australia in 1881. In the following year they took up land in northern New South Wales and created their own intentional community, speaking Italian in their own church, school, businesses and social venues. They thrived until about the time of World War One, after which New Italy slowly collapsed. (Metcalf 2011) 4 The Age, 16/8/1872, p. 2.

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A group of literary-minded socialist-anarchists established Australia’s first urban commune in Melbourne in 1888, calling themselves Co-operative Home. They supported themselves through their writing and through running Australia’s first vegetarian restaurant.5 They seem to have been a male only group and probably never grew beyond ten members. Meanwhile, several would-be Christian Socialists, following Reverend George Brown, established Community Home in rural Victoria in 1889. (Featherstone 2006) Neither commune lasted more than a couple of years. A similarly motivated urban commune, called Federative Home, formed in New Zealand in the late 1890s. Organised by the charismatic Professor Alexander Bickerton, they sought to realise their utopian ideal, free from want, hard labour and the bonds of marriage. They built a magnificent communal house, called Wainoni, with large library and ball-room. Through internal conflict, jealousy and perhaps mismanagement, however, Federative Home collapsed within a few years. (Metcalf 2004a) During the 1890s, inspired by Socialism, the works of Henry George (American) and William Lane and Horace Tucker (Australian), numerous rural communes were established in Australia, most with some government support. In Queensland 13 communes, with about 2000 members, were formed in 1891–4. During this time 13 communes, with about the same membership, were established in South Australia, six in Victoria, three in New South Wales and one in Tasmania. All of these were motivated by the pragmatic desire to make use of new agricultural technology such as steam-driven irrigation and crop husbandry in creating their own socialist worlds far away from the squalor and grinding poverty of the cities. One group, following the charismatic William Lane, sailed to Paraguay where they established their utopian New Australia and Cosme. The longest lasting of these would be ‘Alice River Co-operative Settlement’, in Queensland, 1891–1907. (Metcalf 1995, 1997, 1998; Metcalf, Kerr and Christie 2011; Souter 1991) Because the early to mid 1890s was a time of serious economic depression and high unemployment in Australia, several intentional communities were formed with little motivation other than to allow destitute people to avoid starvation. The best known two would be Saumarez, in New South Wales, and Leongatha Labour Colony, in Victoria. Both lasted only as long as the economy remained weak because their members saw the commune not as ‘good’, but only as the ‘least-bad’ of their dire options. 5 At least my research has not shown there to have been an earlier one.



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During this time there were several attempts to form what were loosely known as ‘Single Tax Colonies’, meaning that they were based on a rather idiosyncratic reading of the writings of Henry George. Little is yet known about these failed attempts by would-be communards such as Evacustes Phipson, of Sydney. Others, such as ‘Austin South’, of Brisbane wrote at length about the urban utopia that could be achieved through following single-tax principles but, as far as is known, he never tried to put this into effect. There was a women-only commune, known as Wirawidar, established north of Sydney in 1895 by Mary Sangers Evans. Members were to support themselves through raising small crops for sale, with their main income deriving from silk-growing and weaving. About ten women lived together for several years in a large house on their land until the commune fell apart. The full story has yet to be researched. The 1880s and 90s saw a flowering of utopian communal experiments in Australia but, for some reason, New Zealand missed out. Most of the communal ventures of this period were motivated by some form of agrarian socialism and sought to create the good life, on the land, far away from the contamination of industrialism and capitalism. Some were racially driven, often with notions of racial purity and manly virtue. Most lasted only 2–3 years. A few sought gender-separation or other esoteric principles but few of these managed to establish and those that did soon collapsed.  20th Century Utopian Communal Experiments Pre-1960 Following the flowering of socialist communal experiments in the late 19th century, other motivations, mainly mystical, almost what we today would call ‘new-age’, arose in the new century. Matti Kurikka, a utopian visionary and writer, brought about 70 followers from Finland to north Queensland to establish Kalevan Kansa commune in 1900. Kurikka was motivated by a mystical drive to recreate an idealised, racially pure Nordic past within a modern communist world wherein there would be complete equality, no private property and open relationships. They nearly starved before breaking up in 1902 (Cormick 2000) A somewhat similar commune, except for open relationships, called Holy City, was established in Victoria in 1900, following the mystical teachings of Dr Arthur Dalzell. His divinely-revealed mission was to lead his followers to Jerusalem, thence to heaven. They prospered briefly then

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closed in 1911, with most members moving to Jerusalem (Palestine), where their leader died. Whether or not anyone made it to heaven remains un-researched ( Featherstone 2008). Meanwhile, New Jerusalem commune formed in Western Australia in 1902. They followed James Fisher, a mystical leader who believed that he was the New Messiah and, among other matters, supported polygamy. In 1905, the 70 or so members were described as being “one large happy family”. They built their own school, church and community centre, imported from America and used state-of-the-art agricultural equipment, and prospered until Fisher’s death in 1913, then dissolved as a communal group (Metcalf & Featherstone 2006). Emily Crawford, a British suffragette, sought to establish a women-only community, called Emilliah, in Western Australia in 1909. They located a large area of fertile land near Albany but, for reasons so far un-researched, never settled. The House of David commune was established in New South Wales in 1913 and prospered for some years. Again they were motivated by a mystical drive to live as they thought Christ and his disciples had lived. (Featherstone 2005) The Manor, a small theosophical commune was esta­ blished in Sydney in 1922 by a group of middle class people who chose to live as an extended family of 50 or so. They had a suite of mystical and practical goals that directed their lives. The Manor survives today as a vaguely communal group, by far the oldest urban intentional community in Australia or New Zealand. As different as can be from The Manor’s gentility would be the roughly contemporary Sydney commune called Chidlean Home or Chidley Nature Culturists. In 1914, William Chidley wrote The Answer, in which he argued that vegetarianism, nudism, no hot drinks and plenty of ‘rational sex’ would lead to utopia. Chidley was persecuted for his idiosyncratic utopian beliefs and incarcerated several times in a lunatic asylum. When he died in 1916, his followers established a commune along the lines he had recommended. They scandalized their neighbours with their nude antics until the commune collapsed in 1925. During this time in New Zealand, the Order of the Golden Dawn commune was established in 1912. Their mysticism was so arcane that no-one, including me, quite understands it today. They lasted about a decade. Other intentional communities formed for more prosaic reasons. New Zealand pacifism led to the establishment of Beeville in 1933, River­ side in 1941, Otorohanga Community Farm in 1942, and New Life Colony in 1943. The latter two soon collapsed but Beeville survived until 1975, and



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a much-reduced Riverside persists today. Beeville and Riverside maintained their pacifist ideals while mixing them with environmentalism, humanism and gender equality. In other words, their founding ideals adapted to a rapidly changing social and political environment (Metcalf 1996; and Sargisson & Sargent 2004). Paxton Farm, in Queensland, Australia, also served as a safe haven for pacifists during the Second World War but did not continue afterwards. In Australia, several intentional communities were formed with Catholic Worker and other rustic Christian motivations to recreate an imagined communal family life on the land. The best known of these are Carum Downs (1935), Whitlands (1941), Maryknoll (1950), San Isidore (1955) and Saint Benedicts (1957). Most lasted only a few years as their youthful members found that the rustic charms of rural life entailed too much hard drudgery with too little comfort, remuneration or intellectual stimulation. Of these, only Maryknoll persists today as a charming rural community but it has little of its original intentional community quality. During the late 1930s, the Freeland League for Jewish Territorial Colonisation, in London, proposed Kibbutz-style settlements for Jewish refugees in the Ord River region of Western Australia. Isaac Steinberg, a lawyer who had been Justice Minister in Lenin’s Cabinet, came to Australia to establish these kibbutzim for 75,000 Jews. Perhaps surprising, Steinberg managed to negotiate support from both the National and Western Australian governments, but the outbreak of war prevented the anticipated migration. After the war, the scheme was abandoned in favour of the drive to settle and claim Palestine for the Jewish people (Gettler 1993). At the same time, a similarly-inspired young, wealthy Jewish man in Melbourne, Critchley Parker, envisaged importing several thousand Jewish refugees from Europe to establish Poynduk, a utopian community in Tasmania’s remote southwest.6 Poynduk would become ‘the Paris of Australasia’, hold regular ‘Olympic Games’ involving poetry reading, public speaking and musical contests, and would have its own university staffed by ‘distinguished professors’. Although Zionist, Poynduk would uphold principles of racial tolerance and international brotherhood, within a communist economy. Poynduk’s governance would ‘be moulded on that of the USSR collective ownership’. Surprisingly, the Tasmanian government offered limited support but the war stopped Jewish refugees

6 This area, known as Port Davey, is still so remote that it can be reached by land only after several days of strenuous hiking across sand hills and swamps.

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from reaching Australia, and when Critchley Parker died in 1942, Poynduk died with him (Metcalf 2008a). Less imaginatively, Mutual Farm was established in New South Wales in 1939, and sought to provide work and a home for Jewish refugees. It endured, rather than prospered, until 1944. The following year, in Victoria, Hachshara Springvale/Toolamba was formed by a group of enthusiastic young Zionists including several Jewish refugees from Poland. At Hachshara, they sought to be a Kibbutz as well as a training centre for young Jews planning to go to Israel. It thrived until 1967, and has a special place in the memory of those Australians who lived there prior to making ‘Aliya’ (Metcalf 2006). Twentieth Century communal experiments in Australia and New Zealand prior to 1960 had a range of motivations, mostly political, pragmatic and religious. Occasionally, gender politics were played out in principle but rarely realised. Elements of racial purity were an issue with Hachshara and Kalevan Kansa. Socialism was far less important than in the previous era and the communes, in general, were smaller and less dramatic, yet lasted longer.  20th Century Utopian Communal Experiments Post-1960 Since the mid 1960s the intentional community movement in Australia and New Zealand has boomed. While there are various motivations for this, by far the most important, and the one that gives these people the sense of comprising a social movement, is environmentalism, as most broadly defined. The first intentional community formed in this era is Shalam/Universal Brotherhood that was established in Western Australia in 1963 by Mary Broun and Fred Robinson. They claimed to be in touch with beings from other planets, known as ‘Space Brothers’, who would help lead these fortunate communards to an environmentalist utopia. The commune prospered, built a landing stage for their long-awaited extra-terrestrial guests, but declined after the death of their leaders. Remnants of this group persist today (Black 1984; and Metcalf 1997, 2003). In New Zealand, some of the best-known rural examples of environmentally-oriented intentional communities from this era would be Wilderland (1964), Volco Park (1967), Happisam and Rainbow Valley (1974), Karuna Falls and Tahuna Farm (1975), Katikara (1976), Rennaisance (1979), Tui (1984), Awaawaroa (1994), Otamatea (1995), and Valley Farm (1998).



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Most of these still exist and still following their environmental ideals although in most cases these have been diluted by social, political and environmental realities, and their ageing membership. Several now call themselves ecovillages. Some of the best known environmentally-based intentional commu­ nities in Australia from this era would include Bodhi Farm, Moora Moora and Dharmanda (1972), Tuntable Falls (1973), Mandala7 (1975), The Wolery (1976), Cennednyss (1977), Homeland and Frogs Hollow (1978), Common­ ground (1980), Bundagen and Wytaliba (1981), Crystal Waters (1988) and Kookaburra Park (1993). Several of these have adopted the term of ecovillage, and most are described in my 1995 book, From Utopian Dreaming to Communal Reality (Metcalf 1995). As in New Zealand, most of these still operate more or less according to their environmentalist motivation although ageing membership tends to lead to more relaxed policies. During this same period a number of urban intentional communities formed in Australia and New Zealand, generally with environmental as well as some other form of motivation such as humanism, open-sexuality, religion or mysticism. Some of the best-known Australian examples would be Moorabbee (1972), House of the Gentle Bunyip (1975), Me Jane Collective (mid 1970s), Pleiades (1978) and Mount Street Collective (late 1970s). Wellknown New Zealand urban (or at least suburban) examples would be Gibralter Crescent (1969), Heartwood (1971), Creekside (1973) and Centre­ point (1978). Most lasted only a few years while others have changed names and direction or still thrive, such as Heartwood, in Christchurch. Environmentalism was not the only motivation for establishing intentional communities. One of New Zealand’s best known poets, James Baxter, established Jerusalem, in 1969, as a way of closing the gap between Maori and whites, with a fair dose of racially-based mysticism thrown in. (Newton 2009) In that same year, Neville Cooper established Cust community, also known as The Cooperites. In 1974 ‘Bishop’ Douglas Metcalf8 established Camp David, also known as the Palatinate of Canaan. They lived within a walled compound, preparing for the end of the world and Christ’s return. Both were evangelical Christian communes, with considerable mysticism and sexism thrown in. Both prospered for many years then ran into legal problems because of their leadership. After the death of its founder, Camp David closed in about 2002 in the midst of 7 Near Warwick, Queensland, and not to be confused with Mandala in New South Wales. 8 No relation to the author.

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internecine strife, while Cust Community, after its leader went to prison for sexual abuse, moved and changed its name to Christian Church, and it still thrives. Friends Settlement (1976), New Varshan Krishna Community (1978), Oakura Christians (1979), Karma Choeling Buddhist Monastery (1980), Maha­mudra (1981), and Bodhinyanarama (1985) all followed forms of esoteric spirituality and most persist. Likewise, in Australia, some intentional communities formed with religious rather than, or as well as, environmental aspirations. Some of best examples would be Chenrezig (1974), New Govardhana (1976), Hesed (1976), Satyananda Ashram (1978), True Vine (1978), Wat Buddha Dhamma (1979), and Magni­ficat Meal (1992). The most (in)famous of these would be Magnificat Meal, led by Debra Burslem (aka Debra Geileskey), who claimed to be in direct, daily communication with the Virgin Mary. Their local Roman Catholic Bishop condemned them as a ‘cult’. Members reputedly invested and lost a great deal of money before their leader disappeared. One of her critics recently wrote “She [Debra] is now a semi Judaistic Christian with New Age ramblings from the beaches off Vanuatu, Hawaii and the South China Sea. She has taken a lot of cash from a lot of people. She lives a luxurious life and has a cloned community in Helidon [Australia] who still believe she is leading them to the Promised Land.”9 Most of the other intentional communities mentioned above either thrive or continue to struggle today and most are developing everstronger and more sophisticated environmental motivations to complement their earlier, less-well informed, spiritual drive. Gender-oriented intentional communities such as Wimmins Land (New Zealand, mid 1970s) and Amazon Acres (Australia, 1974) formed exclusively for women, while Mandala (NSW, early 1980s)10 formed for gay men in Australia. They struggled on for some years. Most other of the above-mentioned post-1960 intentional communities had more modest gender issues as part of their formative process but these typically became either irrelevant or at least ignored over time. The radicalism of one’s 20s and 30s has been hard to maintain in one’s 60s and 70s – but environmentalism persists as a driving and guiding force.

  9 Email from Dialogue Ireland, 8 May 2011. 10 This Mandala must not be confused with the much larger and more successful Mandala community in Queensland whose members are predominantly and more conventionally heterosexual.



the communal idea in 21st century201  21st Century Utopian Communal Experiments

In both Australia and New Zealand, most intentional communities being formed in the 21st century fit into either the ecovillage (if rural) or cohousing (if urban or suburban) classification. The motivating factors for both types include environmentalism, a social drive to live a community life and an economic need/desire to live a more frugal life. This trend, of course, predates 2000 but it is now dominant. In Australia, cohousing groups include Cascade Cohousing, Pinakarri, Cohousing Cooperative, and Urban Coop. New Zealand cohousing groups include Earthsong Econeighbourhood, and Beachcomber Community. Some new ecovillages are forming in Australia and New Zealand with Australia’s best-known being Currumbin Valley Ecovillage, and New Zealand’s best-known being Anahata. Exceptions to the ecovillage/cohousing model would be Danthonia Bruderhof, established in 2001 in western New South Wales, and Rocky Cape Christian Community, established in 2006 in Tasmania. Both have a strong religious base and, in many ways, is very atypical of intentional communities of the 21st century.  Relevance of the Communal Idea for the 21st Century As mentioned earlier, the title of this book questions the relevance of communalism in the 21st century. At least in Australia and New Zealand there is no evidence of the falling away either of adherence to communal ideals or to the attempts to apply those ideals in practical communal living, and most of these recent practical attempts follow either the ecovillage or cohousing model. Within both models here there appears to be four inter-related motivations. The first and most important is environmental, with most people interested in this way of life after accepting warnings of climate change, and being determined to reduce their ecological footprint. There is almost universal belief that communal living in either ecovillages or cohousing reduces one’s environmental impact, or ‘ecological footprint’, but solid data in support is scarce. A major study of cohousing (Meltzer 2000 & 2005) certainly provided highly indicative evidence of this. Overseas research at Findhorn Foundation, Scotland, demonstrates that their members have the lowest ecological footprint of anywhere else in Europe. I have no doubt that both studies are reputable and are probably pretty accurate but I would still like to see more rigorous research in this area.

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In particular, there are some questions about the environmental effec­ tiveness of some rural ecovillages where members often have to drive long distances to work, access services such as schools and clinics, or shop. Perhaps their reduced energy/carbon footprint from living a more frugal, communal way of life is offset by their extra dependence on cars? The second contemporary motivation for living in an ecovillage or cohousing is economic. People believe that it is cheaper to live this way, so they can reduce their income by working part time, or live better on the same income. Experience in both Australian and New Zealand rural ecovillages roughly supports this ‘thrift’ motivation with most of their housing being cheaper than found in urban areas, and living costs also being lower. The problem with this observation, or conclusion, is that people are often comparing their rural life in an ecovillage to their previous urban life. Arguably, their housing and living costs might have dropped just as much – or even more – had they moved to a rural village or small town. In other words, it might be factors other than communal living that are leading to the reduced ecological footprint. With cohousing, the myth of cheaper housing was scotched by Meltzer (2000). Cohousing is not necessarily a cheap housing option. Instead, evidence indicates that living in cohousing is not cheaper than living elsewhere but that cohousing provides a wider range of facilities for the same cost. The third motivating factor is social: a desire to avoid loneliness and isolation, to feel part of a close-knit community, and to enjoy a sort of extended family. I find that many people wishing to join an ecovillage or cohousing have quite naive expectation about this although it must be admitted that this is partially achieved by many residents – and sometimes the result is positive while at other times it is negative. The sense of ‘belonging’ resulting from such close living can be offset by the perceived loss of privacy. Loneliness and isolation can still be found in many intentional communities, although probably not as common as in the general population. Unfortunately, I know of no reputable research that has verified this field observation. In Australia and New Zealand the fastest growing type of household is the single-person household, and while this may well suit young, upwardly-mobile people in the short term, there is good evidence of longterm social problems of isolation and loneliness. There is almost always a greater sense of security within ‘group’ rather than ‘alone’ living. Single person households, of course, also entail much higher environmental impacts and are considerably more expensive than group living.



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The fourth motivating factor can be thought of as spiritual, or at least cultural. There is an often-expressed view that communal living is somehow more natural, more ‘tribal’, more likely to lead to a person feeling grounded and attuned to natural rhythms. For some, this can take a religious or mystical explanation, while for others it seems to be a sociologically argued stance. In a recent book, I argued that humans have an in-built drive to community living, and suggested that rather than thinking of us as Homo Sapiens we might better be described as Homo Communitas (Metcalf 2004b, p.5). There does appear to be a deep-seated drive within most humans to want to develop strong connections to group and place. We have evolved as tribal animals and frequently demonstrate an urge to recreate at least some dimensions thereof within our ever-more alienated and fragmented lives. I believe that this is why the fastest growing form of intentional community in Australia and New Zealand is cohousing. Within this model, people can maintain their careers, their children can still attend the same school, and they can maintain roughly the same friends and family connections – but do so from within the comfort and security of a large, land-based, semi-urban group. Somehow these people feel more connected to ‘real’ community, and this appears to have very positive implications for childrearing, growing old, death of a partner, etc. (Meltzer 2005). It appears that the more we become globalised and interconnected through email, Facebook, Twitter and all aspects of social networking, we crave ever more ‘real’ community. By that I mean we seek people with whom to eat and celebrate, people who notice if we are still alive, within a setting of shared responsibility, shared ownership and shared governance. The problem, of course, is that to enjoy this sort of communal support incurs a personal and social cost on the individual, and not everyone is willing to pay this price (Metcalf 2004b). The dream of living within a stable, secure and supportive community, close to nature, with safe conditions for children, with a multiple gene­ rational network of people who really care, drives people to try to establish themselves within 21st century forms of intentional community in Australia and New Zealand. No matter how much our macro economic, technical, political and social world changes, we are still hard-wired Homo Communitas beings, and one or other form of intentional community living appears to be the best, or at least preferred, way for an ever-increasing number of contemporary Australians and New Zealanders to at least partially realise these

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fundamental, ‘hard-wired’ needs. That is why we have more intentional communities than ever before, why intentional communities, particularly of the cohousing and ecovillage varieties, become ever less of a radical alternative and more of a main-stream choice, and why we need not worry about the relevance of the communal ideal in the 21st century – at least not in new Zealand and Australia.

RENEWING TRADITIONAL COMMUNALITY Menachem Topel*  A Profile of Intentional Communality Today’s utopian-oriented communality seeks to contend with the individualism and inhumanity that besets liberal-capitalist modernity by generating new types of relationship in order to create a shared, humane, just and more egalitarian world (see, for example, Goldman in this volume). This strain of communality is utopian in the sense that it proposes an alternate, new and different social structure, albeit one that is generally applied to existing society in the form of social correction, or that rests upon a different hierarchy of values and priorities (see, for example, Etzioni and Miller in this volume). To the majority of those embarking on the path to this type of communality, whatever their prime motivation – equality, solidarity, religion, the environment, or something other – this represents the rough contours of a world that they envision and are striving to realize or to create (see, for example, Meltzer in this volume). These communalist visions and aspirations may be inspired by a desire for a religious reform of the world (see Katz and Lehr in this volume); or for sustainable protection of the world in the face of harmful modern technology or overwhelming economic interests (see Goldman in this volume). Some adherents of communality may seek an improved quality of life or society, while others regard it as a worthy goal in itself, which manifests solidarity and fraternity among the members of society. These visions may be overarching and far-reaching, or partial, making do with the introduction of a modest measure of communality to everyday life (see Metcalf in this volume). All these visions share the hope for a complete, improved and better future. In proposing alternatives to the dominant culture in the societies in which these trends have emerged, or at least in seeking to become an integral part of a developing plural­istic society, they challenge the present, namely the regime or society’s conventional norms. * The author is grateful to the College of Ashkelon for its generous support

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Yet, alongside these streams, there are other sources from which different communalist currents that challenge postmodern society flow. These trends seek to confront the self-same ills, but rest upon the sources of the past. This approach seeks to shape social behavior and organization by harnessing values and guidelines for activity anchored in traditional sources, in the values and norms of communal solidarity. Those who seek to adopt these values draw upon the ancient culture of their people, as they view it from their contemporary perspective.  Tradition-Based Intentional Communality In referring to the communality that seeks a basis in traditional sources as a type of intentional communality we do not contradict Sargent’s contention in this volume, which rightly confines the definition of intentional communes to the deliberate search for, or intentional adoption of communal principles. This category therefore does not include communality that is a traditional continuation of past customs, a “natural” phenomenon as it were, that passes from one generation to the next through the mechanism of socialization. Accordingly, what we refer to here is not the continuing traditional adherence to well-established norms in daily life, a sort of continuity that Miller, too, in his article in this volume differentiates from the intended, invented communality that stems from a search for solutions to the malaise of our time. Neither do we address here to those primeval foundations of human life within groups; a diffuse urge for a cohesive togetherness that leads to the birth of new utopias, the red thread that runs through experiments in utopian communality to which Gonzalez de Oleaga and Bohoslavsky (2009) refer. I refer here to the intentional adoption of communality, not merely as a nebulous element or a general principle, but as a tangible norm of behavior, as a principle that dictates formal arrangements. This form of communality is distinguished, first of all, by its origin in the traditional organization of a nation and its former real or mythical norms of behavior. Those who present this path as a desirable option choose to utilize communality, which they are able to do by virtue of the multiplicity of cultures that compound the past. This option becomes more readily available because most peoples lack a written history. Verbal transference of history enables the tellers, who generally belong to the elite, to manipulate and project the narrative according to the trends and interests that they seek to promote. The members of the elites of the Quechua and Aymara



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peoples of Bolivia, for example, utilized traditional elements of the Incas (in fact their erstwhile conquerors) or those of their own peoples in order to bolster the demands made during the popular revolution of 1952 to restore the communal ownership of land, a practice that was gradually abolished following the Spanish era (Abercrombie 1998). Yet these social innovators certainly do not seek to “return to the past.” On the contrary, they explicitly strive to reestablish what they perceive to be traditional norms in the present and the future, in order to improve the conditions that they experience. They introduce this “traditional” content to “modern” structures, such as political parties like the MNR in Bolivia, or trade unions like the Campesinos (idem p. 309). This effort is sustained through a constant dialogue between the ruling and the traditional cultures, resulting in a measure of integration between them. The migrants [to the city] do not aspire to assimilate into the cultural context of the elite, but rather to advance within their own real and imagined community. In the urban setting, people form identities that combine or balance various points of reference, of which the most important are the citizenship in the state (class identity) and the membership in the Aymara community (ethnic identity). (Widmark 2003).

Those who propose these traditional communal arrangements as a contemporary operative tool likewise do so in a quest for better solutions to the woes of the period, as do all the other utopians. They after all intentionally choose components of communal solidarity from a wide variety of aspects and emphases that have evolved out of a rich cultural history, from the era of the egalitarian hunter society to a hierarchical settler society containing social disparities, as Rodriguez (1994) well portrays in the case of the local societies in the Cauca area in Colombia in the millennium that preceded the Spanish conquest. The people who adopt selected elements of traditional cultures to serve as a basis for communal principles of contemporary practical social organization are well aware of their status as the “other” in relation to and in the eyes of mainstream society. They thereby exhibit a further characteristic of intentional communities, which tend to regard themselves as a different, defiant, challenging component of society, which, while belonging to it, opposes its dominant norms. This is a community that knowingly and deliberately promotes singular and alternative values and characteristics that challenge the dominant current. Bearing this ambivalent status of being a part of society while being “different,” these communities demand recognition of their special identity as an integral part of a pluralist society (see, for example, Ben-Rafael in this volume). Yet in addition to

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these characteristics, shared by all intentional communities, those proposing a traditional communality seek – once more, intentionally – to distinguish themselves from the “general society” or the establishment, and to utilize the traditional identity in order to cement their organization and unite their ranks, through reviving a unifying communal culture that becomes an important tool in their political/social struggle against the dominant groups. The main institutions responsible for local governance are the ayllu and the sindicatos, “peasant trade unions,” the latter were introduced by the 1954 Land Reform in the hope that they would replace the great variety of indigenous forms of social organization. Since 1979, all sindicatos have been affiliated with the National Confederation of Sindicatos of Bolivia. This has permitted the expansion of community social networks, leading to gradual emancipation from the state and ending with integration into traditional forms of self-government (Rist et al. 2003, p. 266).

The adherents of communality find a significant added value in this oldnew communal culture, which transcends its contribution to the quality of life of the community’s members and the immediate creation of tangible social capital through the promotion of solidarity and trust. The important advantage offered by this path is that it turns one’s ethnic or perhaps national identity into a potentially elevating one, restoring the dignity of the sector or the ethnic grouping, and serving as a tool whereby to correct the world that “modernity” has spoiled. This is an important instrument in the social struggle of the group within the wider society, which makes an essential contribution to the positive definition of the “we” identity, namely the collective identity of the nation that struggles for recognition as part of the pluralism of the contemporary multicultural state (Albo 2011). As perceived by those who propose them, these norms and customary modalities have been buried by Western modernity under the ruins of their ancient cultures. To them, communal behavior and organization are not a new cultural experiment, but rather constitute the new and successful use of ancient cultural experience. I became aware of this phenomenon and gained an understanding of it many years ago, as I prepared for my role as director of development of communal projects for some of the poorest communities in Latin America, comprising mainly native peoples. As part of my preparation I met a senior Bolivian official of Quechua Indian origin in Israel who had just completed a course at the Sdeh Boker Institute of Ben Gurion University in the Negev (Israel’s southern desert). The course addressed technologies



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for the utilization and exploitation of water in the desert, and a significant segment of it – according to this participant – was devoted to the methods employed by the ancient Nabatean people that lived in the region some 2,000 years ago. The Nabateans developed amazing techniques of exploiting moisture and dew and collecting rainwater and succeeded in maintaining a developed society and culture for an extended period. The above-mentioned institute studies their methods, and adapts and applies them to present-day conditions. My interlocutor spoke very enthusiastically of the course and its commendable orientation toward seeking solutions to the world’s problems by reviving and adapting the knowledge, values and guidelines for action of an ancient local culture. He believed that this principle should be applied everywhere, since such source cultures best suited the local geography, climate and people. From what he said it became evident that the presentation of the ancient culture of the nation as something that offers practical solutions in the present generates an ethnic pride that is sorely needed by native peoples subdued by modern Western civilization, and in fact by the ruling classes. Subsequently, during my activity in the continent and specifically in Bolivia, this insight was confirmed and became highly relevant. Part of my work involved developing self-help communal projects with disadvantaged local groups. In Bolivia I came into contact with the political and economic leadership of Bolivia’s agricultural workers’ organization, most of which belonged to the Aymara tribe. I encountered strong opposition to the development of “cooperatives,” which they regarded as a measure that modernist governments (attempting to develop a modern Western economy and culture) were imposing on the farmers. Yet these people immediately agreed to proposals for development of communal modes of organization that embedded the economic system in the social system, both at the local community level and the level of the nation-wide organization. These had been a prevalent form of organization during certain periods of the distant tribal past, which had facilitated the joint market­ ing of agricultural produce, land distribution, and the supply of water. In planning specific contemporary projects, they used ancient terms in the original language. For example, one of the practical proposals that they encouraged and which they subsequently enthusiastically implemented was the joint marketing of potatoes, which was the major crop grown by these farmers. This form of organization was, from every perspective, identical to the structure of a cooperative, but it operated as part of the constellation of communal life. During the period of the history of their people to which they referred, economic cooperation and organization

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was inherent to everyday communal life and no distinction was made between the different aspects of life. This was because the arrangements themselves were egalitarian ones that rested on cooperation and communal solidarity: equitable allocation of water, rotation of agricultural plots, and joint marketing of private produce. Osborne (1952, p. 122) describes “the system of communal works, each man’s portion being worked by teams in common.” He goes on to explain that communal work was not limited to the maintenance of the common land and canals and the clearance of fields, but included the cultiva­tion of the plots of widows and handicapped people, customs that were subsequently abandoned. Moreover, the periodic distribution of land itself took account above all of the number of people in the family, which served as the overriding criterion (p. 94). Furthermore, the produce derived from collective land (earmarked for the gods or the king), which was tended by the community, also constituted an emergency store to be used in times of shortage or war, which among the Incas was put at ten years, and was distributed to everyone according to their need. The village headman, the social-political leader, was responsible for coordination and distribution, since, as mentioned, the economic mechanisms were an integral part of communality. In order to organize the above-mentioned potato marketing initiative in which I was involved, the villagers first of all proposed to teach me the Aymara terminology of procedures and roles, namely the concepts they used for the organization elsewhere commonly known as a “cooperative.” They were acquainted with this “modern” concept of cooperative in the context of the organization proposed by the military governments of the area or the local governments that had attempted to unify the society in a modernist melting pot that entailed the erasure of various ethnic characteristics that they regarded as dividing the nation. To the descendants of the Aymaras and the Quechuas the concept “cooperative” signified attempts by “white” governments to impose unsuitable Western methods on the natives as part of the campaign to erase their identity. Traditional communality may thus evolve not only as an “imagined community” of people who share an ethnic identity, but also as a solid basis for organization within central and vital spheres, such as the ownership and use of land in agrarian society. The ayanoka land-use system is a major pillar of social organization and management of natural resources. The territory of the ayllu is managed as a



renewing traditional communality211 common property resource comprising 4 sectors of arable land, covering more than 60% of community land. Each sector contains an ayta, consisting of 3 smaller adjacent cultivated areas (ayanokas), with 3-year cycles of crop rotation, occupying between 15 and 20% of the total surface of a sector. The remaining 80–85% of the arable land is left fallow for 9–12 years, ensuring restoration of soil fertility and pasturing. Although coordination of crop rotations, fallow periods, and redistribution of land are organized and controlled collectively, crop management and external inputs, as well as use of production, remain the responsibility of the families (Rist, Delgado Burgoa and Wiesmann 2003).

The land-use system described here constitutes the contemporary fruit of the integration of methods employed in the distant past and current organization. It is, in other words, a system constructed in the present through judicious use of ancient practices. Many scholars agree that this system has proved successful and has enabled these peoples to survive despite the numerous hardships along the road. In order to clarify further events and phenomena that may be linked to this phenomenon of revival of selected ancient cultural traditions and their actual utilization in contemporary social circumstances by disadvantaged groups, I shall first expand on the activity mentioned above, which enabled me to accumulate experience and to collect case studies through contact with the native populations in a large number of Latin American countries. I undertook this activity as a functionary of the International Confe­ deration of Free Trade Unions, the large, international umbrella organization of trade unions. In my role as director of the socio-economic department of the branch of the organization dealing with the entire American continent (ORIT), I engaged in the preparation, implementation and supervision of self-help projects for disadvantaged populations through the affiliated trade unions in Latin American countries. The assistance was facilitated by an initial grant for each specific project received from donor countries in Europe or North America, according to a proposal drawn up together with the participants in the project in those countries. This was a one-off grant which in most cases – apart from humanitarian aid – I turned into a loan given on favorable terms to the project, which was expected to sustain itself. The community or group that receives the assistance is expected to repay the capital sum within a given period, and favorable conditions are offered on a specific terms to each enterprise. The amount repaid by each group is placed into a fund to support projects of additional groups in the same area. Repayment of

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the loan by the group to the fund is not a trivial matter. International aid organizations dealing with underprivileged populations are well aware that repayments of this kind to the donors are not prevalent or reliable. Yet in this case, since the repayment serves to leverage a “chain” of aid to further groups of “brothers” or neighbors, it is regarded as an expression of solidarity among the groups. Repayment of a loan to this fund thus constitutes a manifestation of supreme moral and traditional commitment to the “broad community.” The rate of repayment is far higher than the norm in this area. As far as these people are concerned, communality is part of a wider social structure, which plays a significant social and political role in even the most down-to-earth economic activity. This is exemplified by a noteworthy case in rural Indian communes in Honduras. A group of penniless Indian farm laborers, supported by their labor organization, occupied land during the course of a prolonged and obdurate struggle for land reform. They endured great hardships that reduced their number to a mere twenty families. While they did obtain plots of land by virtue of their struggle, these were located at a high altitude, difficult to access and to cultivate. The Dutch funded “project” provided them an initial herd of milk cows. By virtue of their joint hard labor they turned the place into a farm. They became a cohesive, democratic and well-knit community. One should bear in mind that they live a life of extreme poverty, having no way of building themselves robust houses or of ensuring adequate health or education for themselves and their children. The program was successfully implemented. The herd of cows grew, the crops began to bring in a minimal income, which provided for a little more than their basic needs. When the time came, the farmers met the conditions for return of the loan to the letter, telling their children and members of other communities of campesinos (literally, people of the fields) – as they define themselves – that they were returning the aid they had received for their enterprise to a fund that supported similar projects for “brothers.” And indeed, an identical enterprise was implemented in a different community. Two years hence, moreover, this second community, although still living in abject poverty, began repayments, and a similar project was launched in a third community. At a convention of campesinos, the community members explained that this strict adherence to the repayment agreement was an obligation toward a broad communal solidarity, which had even sparked discussion in the press (Nuevos Rumbos 1993).



renewing traditional communality213  The Communal Democratic Ethos

We should emphasize that activities of the sort portrayed here do not emanate from the decision of a particular leader or organization. The community operates autonomously to meet its obligation, and decisions are reached unanimously through a form of direct democracy. Someone, albeit, does assume the role of chairperson or leader in the community. This is generally a literate person, someone with an elementary education, but all decisions pertaining to organizational matters, to norms of activity regarding everyday issues that continually crop up, and to the allocation of money, are made at a general assembly by both men and women. This example illustrates a different aspect of the analogy between traditional communality and its modern, secular, intentional version. The latter type, which is generally the focus of discussions on communes, in most cases encompasses an explicit requirement for egalitarian democratic participation of its members in decision making. The democratic principle of participation in decision-making and in social life constitutes a major element of the search for a cure to alienation in secular intentional communities (see Széll in this volume). Turning to the development of communality based on traditional sources, one finds that here too, leaders of native peoples tend to underscore participation and democracy as a fundamental aspect of the various early cultures of Latin America, choosing to adopt them as guidelines for the society that they seek to build. Albro (2006) and Strobelle-Gregor (1996) are among the scholars who identified this trend in their studies.  The Ethos of Solidarity versus the Ethos of Individualism The major theme found by all studies to characterize both religious and secular modern-day communes, however, is the ethos of solidarity that challenges the neo-liberal ethos of individualism. Here too, one can of course find an analogy to those communities that attempt to cultivate communality from mythical or historical roots. This phenomenon is illustrated by a comparative analysis of a case that squarely confronts the ethos of communal solidarity with the individualistic, neo-liberal ethos of maximizing personal gain in the “marketplace” of social relationships. This is a real-life “laboratory” test case derived from

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my own experience. It relates to a case of humanitarian aid – the supply of building materials – to communities and organizations affiliated with the Colombian federation of trade unions. The need for such aid arose in the wake of the destruction caused by a major earthquake that occurred in 1983 in the city of Popayan, the capital of Cauca region in Colombia. The aid took the form of the direct supply of building materials according to a list of needs submitted by the various organizations. In this specific case, the building materials were distributed in parallel to the heads of an urban trade union and to the headmen of neighboring villages, which were likewise damaged in the quake. In both cases the materials were earmarked for the restoration, construction and repair of the homes of members of these organizations, according to lists of names previously submitted by the heads of the organizations, which should have included the most seriously damaged houses. In my role as supervisor of the implementation of this aid I visited the location during the latter stage of the project’s implementation, when most of the task had already been completed. Visiting the houses in which the work had already been completed in the urban environment of the regional capital, I in fact reached the homes of most of the union’s committee members. Not all the homes showed signs of serious damage, and some had actually used the aid to add an extra room to their house. In the homes of the organization’s “rank and file” members, on the other hand, which had yet to be renovated, I could discern more serious damage than that in some of the homes of the committee members. Both the heads of the organization and the rank and file accepted that this was “how things were,” that it was only natural that the activists and their associates should be the first to receive aid, on the strength of their personal involvement. In all cases the beneficiaries received the materials and themselves saw to the work of renovating the house, each according to his limitations and capacity. The picture that emerged in the neighboring rural Indian community was very different. The heads of the organization proposed to conduct the project according to the minga custom, an ancient traditional mode of carrying out communal works whereby each member “contributes” a day of work per week. The members of the community agreed with virtual no opposing voices, even though everyone was well aware of the heavy commitment that this entailed. According to the local tradition as translated for the purpose of the project, it is, in fact, impossible to evade



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participation in the joint task and to continue to live in the village. He who evades faces complete ostracism from the village’s social life. The method is made up of a number of principles, and I observed their practical application in this case. The village was first of all divided according to streets into groups of some 15 families, which thus comprised a random composition of people with respect to their marital status and demographic and health attributes. Each group worked in unison, assembling on Friday mornings (the most convenient day) and renovating one house at a time. At least one adult family member, usually the man, and if possible both spouses, participates in the work, most of which entails hard physical labor. The tasks include making bricks, constructing walls, erecting ceilings and a roof, and so forth. Yet, as mentioned, each family participates, including those that include widows, the sick and the elderly. The type of contribution required from the latter, however, takes consideration of their condition. They are given the tasks of providing food for the shared midday meal on the work site, bringing water, helping to deliver materials, cleaning up at the end, and so forth. People who are unable to undertake even these tasks are replaced by their children or other relatives. Toward the end of my visit to this community we assembled in the home of the committee chairwoman (a woman indeed), whose ailing husband lay beneath a ceiling that threatened to cave in at any moment. The condition of the house was far worse than that of many of the other already renovated houses. In response to my remark about this irrational order of priorities that took no consideration of the level of danger posed by the structures, those present explained that it was natural and taken for granted that one must adhere to the principles of the minga as they interpreted them. Accordingly, the order in which houses are renovated begins with the families of the elderly and ailing, proceeds to singleparent families, with the last house to be renovated being that of the head of the community. Since the community members derived great satisfaction from the joint implementation of the renovations, they decided to employ the same organizational-social structure on further activities, which they themselves initiated without outside assistance. As the majority of the people was illiterate in Spanish, they turned the same groups of renovators into Spanish classes. The few “educated” individuals in each group taught the others writing and reading at twice-weekly group meetings of the minga. No less interesting although unsurprising, given the context,

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was that the concepts and texts utilized in teaching the language were not those in use in schools, but rather ideological and political texts associated with labor organization, social classes, ethnic deprivation, and so forth. To these villagers, the learning of Spanish, the national language, served as a tool of political struggle, and they by no means regarded it as a social or cultural alternative to their local tongue. This summary of the event is self explanatory. In the modern city I found that the order in which materials were provided bore a strong correlation with membership in the union committee, and was not always related to the amount of damage to the house. In part, the aid was “exploited” to enlarge the house or to renovate defects unrelated to the quake. Dealing with the renovation work was perceived entirely as an individual matter, and the condition of the family played no part in the considerations governing allocation of the material. In the “primitive” village, on the other hand, I found that the order of priorities dictated by the shared minga conducted once a week took no account of the damage or hazard presented by the structures. The house belonging to the village headwoman (a woman, to my surprise) was among the worst damaged, even posing a real hazard to its occupants. Yet it was at the bottom of the list. The clear explanation was that there was no alternative, and according to the ancient norms that they had decided to adopt she must be the last. The order of renovation was, as mentioned, determined by one’s social situation, and in any event the committee members were last on the list and she who headed the pyramid was last of all. It is thus apparent that the use of communal tribal elements in order to galvanize the ranks or to create a support mechanism or a business organization may, in various circumstances, appear to be something rather obvious, although it is in fact a mode of operation selected from a pool of options, among which are the dominant norms of the adjacent society. A further example of the application of “traditional” organization to meet current economic needs is provided by the “cooperative” organization of Indian women in villages in southern Chile. These women produce handicrafts that exhibit local traditional designs for sale to tourists. It is perhaps due to this “link” to traditional tribal motifs that they hit upon the idea of organizing themselves according to what is regarded as a traditional “cooperative” manner, namely the joint procurement of raw materials for their traditional handicraft production, and collective marketing of



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their products. In doing so they adopted methods replicated from the tribal customs of the distant past.  The Political Aspect: Restoring Past Glory Let us return to the senior Bolivian development official quoted above, who studied at the Desert Research Institute in Israel. As mentioned, his enthusiasm stemmed from the development of contemporary tech­ nologies on the basis of methods employed by a people that already 2,000 years ago knew how to collect or exploit water in a manner that enabled it to live in the desert. This means that an ancient local culture is able to offer solutions to the “superior” Western culture. According to this man, moreover, these methods are bound to be those best suited to the nature and culture of the people whose norms and culture were obliterated by modern technology. His reading revealed the need to bestow “dignity” to the natives of his land, to restore these peoples’ standing – not least in their own eyes as well – through the adoption of deep-rooted technologies. And indeed, the use of traditional motifs in political struggle was clearly manifested in the choice of the title of the political leader of the agricultural laborers’ organization in Bolivia (Indians of the Aymara and Quechua tribes). To them, utilization of elements of their traditional culture unequivocally serves as a means and a symbol of opposition to the culture of the occupiers (Osborne, 1952). Jenaro Flores, the well-known leader of the organization, who waged both an overt and an underground campaign, chose to adopt the traditional title of jilakata instead of the conventional titles used in political and labor organizations (StrobeleGregor, 1996). The organization’s engineers and economists likewise chose to employ traditional names as an alternative to the cooperative, as explained above. The combination of a binding communality and restoration of the nation’s or the ethnic group’s dignity clearly constitutes an important tool of political struggle.  The Ecological Aspect A further aspect that connects the traditional and contemporary quests for communality is the ecological one. This motif, which is becoming increasingly associated with communality, constitutes an integral part of

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the community. In native cultures humans are perceived to be an integral part of the natural world, which includes the heavenly bodies, the earth itself, the flora and the fauna. They do not rule over them. They are merely a modest component of this world, and their role, both as individuals and as a community, is to protect it (Rist et al. 2003; Rodriguez 1994). In all native cultures communality is embedded in the connection to nature, to varying degrees in the different tribes and periods, but the two are always integrated and never appear as separate phenomena. A general feature of discourse related to the different periods of local his­ tory  is that people perceive the present land-use system as the result of coevolution between society and nature. In collective memory, coevolution is an open, long-term social process that ranges from prehistoric periods to the present (Rist et al. 2003, p. 266).

 Conclusion This article seeks to present a type of communality that, like most forms of contemporary communality, tends to confront or challenge neo-liberal, individualistic culture. Yet unlike other sorts of communality, the one under discussion does not rest upon the values of modernity, nor is its vision derived from a utopian future; rather, in determining its norms, values and even its organizational structure, it adopts either actual or mythical ancient tribal traditions. These are not customs that have endured for generations and have been handed down from past to present. Drawing on scholarly literature and the author’s experience, the article attempts to throw light on the phenomenon of the adoption of communal norms and organizational structures that promote solidarity. These elements are chosen because they are marked as being representative of the collective, even though they generally relate to a particular period of its historical or mythical past, or belong to the tradition of a particular group or tribe within a far broader array contained in a large representative organization, such as the confederations of agricultural laborers in Bolivia or Honduras. This choice is not “automatic,” natural or obvious, since the themes are chosen from a wide variety of different and even contradictory structures and regimes in the history of these peoples or ethnic groupings. Like other types of communality, that discussed here is bound up with further social and political goals. In this case, it constitutes part of the effort to raise the status of an ethnic identity that offers its own solutions



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to the shortcomings of Western modernity. While this form of commu­ nality generally makes use of modern technology and modes of organization, these are always integrated to a significant extent with traditional communal organization and norms. Challenging the modern, dominant social and political identity and seeking to acquire a status equal to it, this ethnic identity constitutes a focus for the crystallization of an explicit social-class or political movement. This evolving organization, moreover, in some cases directly promotes political education or openly or covertly forms political parties, all the while utilizing the symbols, terminology and organizational structures of a mythical traditional past, as we have seen. Now, in the early 21st century, we see that the attempts on the part of a few groups or leaders here and there across the continent to develop traditional communality as part of their effort to restore tribal pride and to galvanize the rank and file to political action have produced tangible results. For the first time in Bolivia’s history, and in an occurrence with few precedents throughout America, Evo Morales, a man of Aymaran origin, was elected president. He has been a militant leader and campaigner for the rights of the oppressed, who promotes clearly communal elements at both the local and the national levels. And there are other leaders, who unlike Morales are not directly descended from indigenous Indians, but who are likewise borne aloft by the native population either by virtue of their qualities or on a populist wave, who are introducing communalist and socialist elements, such as Hugo Chavez in Venezuela, Rafael Correa in Ecuador, and Daniel Ortega in Nicaragua. One may therefore conclude that, in the wake of political steps that include the promotion and flowering of traditional communality during the 20th century, in the 21st century communality is actually being actively encouraged “from top down” in various corners of the world, in stark contrast to the past complexion of these societies. From a comparative perspective, in relation to the secular communality of the latter half of the 20th century, the traditional communality discussed here exhibits a further aspect linked to the people who adhere to it and to its essential raison d’être. The members of the communes of this period generally belonged to the middle-class (Oved, 2009), and were primarily concerned with achieving solidarity and fraternity, combating alienation, maintaining quality of life and the environment, assuming responsibility for the future, and so forth; namely, largely high-level goals on the Maslow scale. The traditional communality presented here, on the contrary, sought to satisfy far more basic needs, such as minimal levels of

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livelihood and housing, as well as social recognition of the members of the group as partners with their own identity and worth in the social fabric of the country in which they live, thus far as a discriminated minority. Employing the terminology used to define social movements, we may classify this type of communality as belonging to the world of “old social movements,” those which engage in the struggle for national or class rights within the specific local milieu of the modern world. By contrast, the prevalent form of secular communality belongs to the world of “new social movements,” which operate in the postmodern, global context and engage in a struggle by vague social categories for recognition of individual identities (Larana, Johnston & Gusfield 1994). Yet this “traditional” identity or solidarity acquires a dual meaning in the current political and social climate. As noted, it introduces traditional, unifying and inclusive content to bodies engaged in class or political warfare at the macro level, while at the same time seeking practical ways of realizing its ideals through shaping modes of organization and promoting innovative norms of solidarity at the micro community level, such as the cases cited as examples in this article. We may regard this as a reconstruction of communality at the local level on the basis of elements attributed to the social structure of a historical culture: ‘For the most part, progressive shrinking as earlier and larger-scale formations were fragmented and reconstituted through new kinds of settlements’ (Abercrombie 1998).

CHRISTIAN AND MESSIANIC JEWS’ COMMUNES IN ISRAEL: PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE Rami Degani and Ruth Kark Introduction: Historical Background and Sources The lifestyle of the first century Christian community of Jesus’ disciples in Jerusalem, led by Jacob, the first Bishop of Jerusalem (Acts 2, 444–47; 4, 32–37), became a life model for succeeding generations of Christians throughout the globe. According to the New Testament and Christian tradition, the earliest Christian community, as well as others outside the Holy Land, lived communally (Degani, 2007; Oved, 1988). From the beginning of the twentieth century onward various types of Jewish communes and cooperatives were established by the Zionist movement in Palestine/Israel, as Kibbutzim, Moshavim and other unique modes of settlement. While the Jewish communes were not created with any connection to a Christian tradition their model and nomenclature was sometimes adopted by Christians who moved to the Holy Land and wished to live communally. The Holy Land, home of the first Christian commune in the first century AD, saw renewal of Christian communal settlement after close to two millennia. The first examples of these new attempts at Christian communal living consist of two very short-lived Jaffa American Colonies and the long-lived American-Swedish Colony in Jerusalem founded in the mid-nineteenth century (Kark, 1984; Kark, fieldwork; Ariel and Kark, 1996). Of these, three were millenarian in their beliefs but only the Spaffords’ American colony practiced true communal ownership of property and celibacy. The Adams colony and Clorinda Minor’s activities in Jaffa were abject failures and they should be viewed in that light as well. Only the American-Swedish colony in Jerusalem had staying power. This was partly due to the charismatic nature of its leaders, improved health prevalent at the time of foundation, overseas contacts and contributions, and productivity of the American colony in Jerusalem. In addition this colony grew at a slower rate, beginning with a small group of individuals and attracting members and increasing in size over time (Frantzman and Kark, 2008), but after fifty years, in the 1930s – during the age of the third generation – the colony comes to an end.

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The process of settlement of small Christian groups in Palestine/Israel continued during the twentieth century. There are numerous published reports on those settlement phenomena in the Holy Land/Palestine in the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth century. However, it is difficult to find reference in the research literature to Christian settlement and communes during the period of British Mandatory rule in Palestine (1918–1948) or that of the State of Israel (1948 onwards) (Schmidgal and Kark, 2008). For this reason the topic has been generally neglected by scholars. The establishment of the State of Israel brought about attempts to build new communal settlements, based on Christian faith. Most of them failed, but some of the initiatives to establish kibbutz style cooperative Moshav communes in the State of Israel were successful and persist to this day. Our paper is based on the analysis of primary sources of the communes, fieldwork and interviews. It focuses on six of the new Christian and Messianic Jews’ settlements in Israel, which evolved from the model of communal life of the first Christians. We include the following com­munes: “Kibbutz” Tel Gamliel, Moshav Nes Ammim, “Kibbutz” Ir Ovot, Moshav Yad-Hashmona, the Bethel commune in Zichron Yaakov, and The Com­ munity of the Beatitudes in Emmaus. We discuss each commune individually and also compare between them, taking account of their origin, leaders’ initial vision and theology and their motivation, their past history, present demographic and economic condition, longevity of the commune, and the future long term prospects of communes that persisted. The paper will not discuss monastic life or families who live commu­nal lives in urban “communes”, belonging to Christian, usually monas­tic, orders and organizations like Chemin Neuf, Opus Dei & Jesus Brotherhood.  Christian and Messianic Jew’s Communes in Israel  “Kibbutz” Tel Gamliel Origin Tel Gamliel Kibbutz was established in the Judean Hills, south of the Salesian Monastery of Beit Jimal, in 1975. It was named after Gamliel the Elder (Rabban Gamliel), who according to Christian tradition had embraced the Christian faith.



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Leaders’ Initial Vision and Motivation The founder and leader was Father Isaac (Henry) Jacob, a Benedictine monk born in 1929 in Pittsburg, in the US, to a Jewish father and Catholic mother. He did a Ph.D. in theology and Church law, and studied Hebrew law as well. When he first came to Israel he spent some time in Kibbutz Sh’aar Ha-Amakim. Afterword he worked with the nascent HebrewCatholic community from 1970 to 1975. He developed the idea of coop­ eration between Christians and Jews with special focus on the Regula (rule book) of St. Benedict, the founder of Western Christian monastic tradition, as a bridge between the two religions. Father Jacob intiated a translation of the Regula into Hebrew in 1980 (Grossman, 1994; Isaac, 1993). In a paper he published in 1974 on “A Christian Visitor to Israel and Ecumenism”, he held, Lavra (Laura) Netofa a hermitage near Dier Hanna in the Galilee in which a few monks (today sisters) lived in the eastern Christian commune style, as an exemplary model for Christian life. Past History In 1975 Father Jacob managed to get 200 dunams (1 dunam = 1000 square meters) from the lands of Beit Jimal monastery, from the Salesian order, to establish a Christian Kibbutz, based on his ideology, and the ancient laura model. This Kibbutz was initially intended to promote contacts between Christians and Jews. Four ruined buildings were renovated and caravans were installed for the volunteers who came to work in the commune. The attempt to assimilate certain aspects of Israeli society included the use of Hebrew biblical texts, such as Pslams, in the commune’s prayers, and in their meals and weekly discussions (Isaac, 1990). Father Jacob also established in Tel Gamliel “The Gamliel research Institute into Monotheistic Law” in which research was done on Jewish Halacha and Church Law. He also focused on comparing important Jewish and Christian texts, such as those by Maimonides (Rabbi Moses Ben-Maimon) and Gratian (Johannes Geratious) and other studies and publications. Past and Present Demographic and Economic Condition During most of the period between 1975–1995, there was a high degree of turnover, as most of the people were volunteers. The longest period of stay for any one member was about three years. The total membership ranged

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from 5–20. For example in March 1993, ten members, whose ages ranged from 21 to 48 were registered in the local member’s register (four from Ireland, three from the USA, one from France, one from Australia, one from The Netherlands). They were employed in maintenance, develop­ ing  and preserving the place, and agriculture (beehive and growing grapes for wine). Livelihood was an issue. The Kibbutz attempted to raise income from donations from individuals, including Jews, in the US via the Friends of Tel Gamliel NGO, but the success was limited (Degani Field work, 1992–3, 2011). Longevity of the Commune The Kibbutz was deserted after the death of father Jacob in 1995. In the year 2000 the place was repopulated by monks from the order: Famille monastique de Bethléem, de l’Assomption de la Vierge et de Saint Bruno, joining nuns from this Order who settled next to the Beit Jimal Monastery. The fifteen monks who live there today in a laura style, preserved the name Tel Gamliel, and developed the place immensely.  Moshav Nes Ammim Origins Moshav Nes Ammim is a cooperative Moshav (village) in the western Galilee. The was established in 1963, by a group of Christians headed by Dr. Johan Pilon a Dutch physician (1917–1975) and his wife Stijn Pilon. The name of the settlement is based on the Biblical verse: “And in that day there shall be a root of Jesse, which shall stand for an ensign of the people (Nes Ammim, i.e. a sign to the nations); to it shall the nations seek: and his rest shall be glorious.” (Isaiah, XI, 10). The emblem of the settlement combines a fish and an ear of corn, the fish being a symbol of Christ, and the wheat symbolizing bread and agriculture. Leader’s Initial Vision and Motivation The founders were led by the ideology that it is the duty of the Chris­tian Europeans who caused suffering to the Jewish people throughout history, have to replace it with good deeds, and renew and strengthen the connection with the Jewish nation. The Holocaust and the establishment of the State of Israel were the two events that led to a change of attitude among



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thinkers in the Christians world. Instead of replacement theology & the New Israel in which Christianity is the true replacement of Israel, a new theology suggested replacing that mission with dialogue. Dr. Pilon, who worked in the Scottish Hospital in Tiberias beginning in 1950, thought of the idea of establishing a Christian settlement in Israel. He partnered with Shlomo Bazak, also of Dutch origin, from Kibbutz Ayelet Ha-Shahar, the Swiss born Dr. Barnard, from the Scottish Hospital in Nazareth and Stijn Pilon, his wife (who died on Holocaust Memorial Day in 2002). By building this settlement near Jewish communities they aimed to promote solidarity and dialogue between the two religions and cultures, and to contribute to Israel’s economy. Volunteers came to Nes Ammim then and now mostly from the Netherlands, Germany, USA and Switzerland (Degani, Field work and interviews). Past History In 1960–61 the Nes Ammim Association, consisted of four equal parts of four Associations in The Netherland’s, Switzerland, Germany and the US was registered in Israel after submitting a memorandum to the Govern­ ment of Israel, and purchasing 1,180 dunams of land from Abdalla Hir, a Druze from the village Abu Snein. The settlement is run by the Inter­ national Association. New friend’s associations were established during the years in Canada, Britain and Sweden (Nes Ammim, 1970). Opposition to the settlement rose from numerous sectors at the beginning, from Jewish religious organizations and parties who were afraid of missionary activity, and from the surrounding settlements, who feared competition over water and land quotas. This happened in spite of the fact that each volunteer signed an affidavit that he or she would not be involved in missionary activity. The controversy went all the way to the Knesset where Levi Eshkol, Finance Minister and later PM, supported its establishment. A young Swiss couple the Vetterli and after a month the Swiss Robert family was the first to settle in an old bus (which later became a museum) in Nes Ammim in April 1963, and the Knesset authorized the settlement in 1964. At first the settlers lived in temporary wood houses. In 1965 a master plan was authorized and a road built. Other houses were added and funded by support from the World Association and from churches in Germany and the Netherlands. A central community house was built in 1975, and a conference center in 1990. The church was constructed on the model of the Byzantine remains of the Tabgha church with an atrium.

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It has no crosses or Christian symbols, but contains a menorah, mezuzah, hamsa, and an art exhibition on the Holocaust. The people of Nes Ammim make a big effort to cooperate with other settlements in their region. The children study in the kindergardens and schools of the cooperative Moshav Regba and Kibbutz Cabri. They celebrate the Jewish and Israeli holidays together with Regba, hold common seminars on the holocaust with Kibbutz Lohamei Hagetaot, and contribute to their neighboring Arab village Mazraa. Past and Present Demographic and Economic Condition Nes Ammim view themselves as an international Christian ecumen­ ical   community and a recognize settlement – a full member in the Regional Council of Matte Asher. The settlement is run as a communal Moshav, with common economic activities. For several years Nes Ammim abstained from accepting members and volunteers from Germany. In 1971 the German family of Ema and Otte Busse (who is one of the right­ eous   among the nations), settled there and opened the door for other Germans to come. The initial plan was to develop an agricultural and industrial (optics and clocks) settlement. After the industry plan failed they switched to the export of flowers, and other agricultural crops. The outcomes were not very successful and they switched to tourism and opened a hostel in 1982. At present there are about seventy people in Nes Ammim. Most of them are temporary volunteers who come for two years. This does not contribute to the building of a sound economic basis. Therefore every year the Moshav seeks out new volunteers. In many cases they also have to advertise abroad to fill management positions as well. In 2011 they issued a tender in the Netherlands and Germany for posts of CEO, maintenance director, and chief gardener for a period of at least two years. Their main activity today is based on the guest house, running seminars on Judaism, Zionism, Holocaust, Israel, Islam, Middle East and especially Jewish-Christians relations. They also host a drug addiction treatment center, and have some agricultural activity (mainly growing avocado), a carpentry shop, and a botanical garden. Longevity of the Commune The long term future of the settlement is not certain. The population of the settlement peaked at the beginning of the 1980s when it numbered 220 people. However the majority of the residents did



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not view Nes Ammim as their final home. Most of the youngsters came for two years and the families for 5 to 7 years. (Greenberg, 1999). The numbers of permanent settlers also dwindled due to their sorry economic situation. The Arab-Israeli conflict led to a decline in the contribution of funds especially after the outbreak of the Second Intifada, and in the number of volunteers who come to help run the settlement. All these problems, as well as the obligation not to accept Israelis to the settlement, excluded a potential source of manpower which could promise a more stable and permanent population.  “Kibbutz” Ir Ovot Origins Kibbutz Ir Ovot (the town of Ovot) was established in the Arava in Southern Israel in 1967, by a group of Messianic Jews from the US led by Simcha Pearlmutter. It was named after Biblical Ovot, one of the Old Testament localities mentioned on the way from Egypt to the Land of Israel (Numbers XXI, 10). Today the site is identified as Biblical Tamar (Kings I, IX, 18). Leader’s Initial Vision and Motivation Simcha Pearlmutter was born to a Jewish family in Miami, Florida. At the beginning of the 1960s, inspired by some ideas of the late Rabbi Shlomo Carlibach, he created a small Orthodox community. He and his family and disciples later became Messianic Jews, believing in the near coming if the messiah, and settling in Israel for that reason. He published a book: “Behohalei Ha-Shem” (In the Tents of God), writing about his belief, the role of Jesus in the restoration of Israel, and the End of Days. Over time they started to believe that the Messiah will arrive first from Mt. Edom which is opposite Ir Ovot. Past History In 1966, rejected by the Jewish communities in Florida, Perlmutter began negotiations with the Jewish Agency to settle in Israel. In 1967 he immigrated to Israel with his two wives (Rachel and Yehudit), his three children and three other members. Their first attempts to join a Hebrew “ulpan”, or a kibbutz, were rejected. At the end of 1968 they settled, with the support

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of General Yashaayahu Gavish, the IDF’s Southern Regional commander, at a deserted army base in the Arava, which they named Ir Ovot. Several years after, they received official recognition from the state for their settlement. Past and Present Demographic and Economic Condition The demographic situation of the settlement was fragile from the beginning. Its population in 1969 reached twenty-five adults, and ten children. In 1982 the population reached seventeen families and twenty children. In end of 1982 a crisis began when one of the wives (Yehudit) left with her five children, and other families left as well. In the 1990s only ten people were left. They lived communal life as a Kibbutz with a common dining room, laundry, children’s house and school, and central work planning and institutions. The Supreme Court approved their Kibbutz status. Rabbi Ami Katz who was evacuated from the Sinai Jewish settlement of Yamit moved to Ir Ovot and at that time the original commune hid their messianic ideology. Chief Rabbi Goren explored in 1982 the option of the conversion of eleven members to Judaism. This began the disintegration of the settlement which worsened as Pearlmutter joined the Satmar Hasidim in order to get economic and political support, and the commune became ultra-orthodox. Shortly after newspaper articles and rumours as to its being a settlement of messianic Jews led to the Rabbi Katz’s departure as well as Simha’s wife Yehudit, and other members. As a result Pearlmutter renewed the name: Ir Ovot: the community of Jesus the messiah. In 1975 they joined the Ichud Chaklai, the Israeli Agricultural Union, which is a non-political settlement body, a step which helped them get land and water quotas, and development loans. This ended in 1986 when the Ichud Chaklai ended its relationship with the commune. The economy that at the first stages was based on agricultural crops such palm trees, tomatoes and eggplants, and Jojoba (a shrub used for oil), suffered due to the limited land and water quotas in this dry area. They tried to open a wooden toy factory, a truck company for transport, and bottled spring drinking water. The Kibbutz fell into debt, and after that, it survival came to depend on donations. Longevity of the Commune The establishment and spiritual and economic existence of Kibbutz Ir Ovut is based on its charismatic leader Pearlmutter. The ups and downs of the settlement were related to the non-stable core of members, changes in



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faith, and in the attitude of the Israeli establishment. Thus after the death of its leader in 2003, the community declined to such an extent that it can longer be considered a commune because it only consists of a few family members and people. At present there are four groups in Ir Ovot: Perlmuter’s wife and a German family who host volunteers from Germany and the Netherlands who work on the 40 dunams family plot, an Evangelist organization from the US, called Blossoming Rose, who work with Rochester College near Detroit, Michigan opened an archeological park and educational center at the ancient Tel Tamar, an extended Swiss family, and the extended Danish Larsen family, who arrived with religious visions, and is active with rehabilitating Arab, and Jewish youth in trouble (Degani and Kark Fieldwork).  Moshav Yad-Hashmona Origins Yad Hashmona, is a Finnish-Israeli cooperative Moshav (village) located in the Judean Hills just a few kilometers west of Jerusalem. The founders of Yad Hashmona were Bible believing Protestant pioneers from Finland. During the 1960’s, they had worked as volunteers in different Israeli Kibbutzim, where they learned about the communal lifestyle which they later adapted at Yad Hashmona. The Moshav was established in spring 1974 by friends of Israel from Finland; later, Israelis joined them. The name of the village commemorates the names of eight Jewish refugees that expected to find asylum in Finland but were handed over to the Nazis. This historical event was an atypical act, and the founders of the Moshav wished to remember their names, thereby expressing public regret. This act of commemoration was done not only for themselves but also in the name of the entire Finnish people, to cherish the heri­ tage, the people and the State of Israel (Nerel and Ely Schiller in Nerel, 2006). Leader’s Initial Vision and Motivation The founders of the settlement were members of Carmel, a nonmissionary Christian association in Finland, which preached for the restoration of the nation of Israel to its homeland as part of the End of Days vision. Carmel was founded by Pastor Per Faye-Hansen, and the Theologian and Archeologist Aelli Saarisalo. In 1960s some of its members who came to Israel as volunteers to Kibbutz Kiryat Anavim, decided to establish a

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Finnish Kibbutz in Israel, and actively participate in participating in the Jewish prophetic tradition, including the restoration of Israel. Rauhala Seppo was one of the Finish leaders of the core group (Degani Fieldwork and Interviews). The principal spiritual vision and common denominator for the members lies in a combination of personal faith and communal activity, based on biblical principles. Currently, the majority of Yad Hashmona’s population are Israelis who believe in Jesus as their personal redeem­er and as the Messiah of both Jews and Gentiles. Moshav members observe the Hebraic calendar and accept the validity of the Old Testament because Jesus himself declared that he did not come to abolish it, but rather to fulfill the Torah and the Prophets (Matthew 5: 17–19) (Nerel, 2006). Past History In 1971 they registered as a legal association in Israel. Three years later the seven Finish founding members moved to the site near Moshav Neve Ilan, to begin building and developing the stony area of 210 dunams that they were allocated. The initial finance for preparing the infrastructure and importing wooden houses, and sauna, from Finland was given by Rauhala Seppo who sold his farm in Finland. It was recognized by the Government as a settlement only in 1981 (Degani, and Kark, Fieldwork and Interviews). The Moshav is a full member of the Matte Yehudah regional council. Additionally, Yad Hashmona is also affiliated with the “Ichud Chaklai,” the Israeli Agricultural Union. The Moshav is run by two committees: a five-member secretarial committee and a seven-member business committee. Major issues are brought to the general assembly of the Moshav members for voting. The non-profit society (Amuta) Yad Hashmona Foundation was incorporated with the Israeli authorities in 2002. The major aims of the foundation are as follows: to establish, maintain and to act in Moshav Yad Hashmona for the development of mutual relations between Jews and Christians in the Land of Israel and worldwide, within the frameworks of research, religious, educational and cultural institutions. Such activities enable the study, teaching and education. (Nerel, 2006). Most Finnish tourists that come to Israel feel an obligation to visit the Moshav, their “legacy in the Holy Land.” Among them are many pilgrims, state officials, and U.N. staff. Moshav members and friends of Yad Hashmona in Finland publish a small quarterly in Finnish (Nerel, 2006).



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Past and Present Demographic and Economic Condition In the first years of the Moshav’s existence, it was an exclusive Finnish community. From 1978 they were gradually joined by Israeli Messianic Jews, (i.e. a denomination based on evangelical elements, that receive Jesus as the messiah of Israel described in the Bible and as ‘the Son of God’, and reference to the Bible and New Testament as the Holy Scripture, and see themselves as a continuation of the Circumcision Church) (Degany, 2007). The approximately 200 residents currently living in Yad Hashmona consist of about fifteen families, six singles, thirty-one children, volunteers and students of the IBEX (Israel Bible Extension) project. Some of the Moshav’s elderly founders, who formed the initial Finnish group, still live here. Some of the families include the volunteers, who rotate constantly, come from all over the world (Ely Schiller in Nerel, and Nerel, 2006, and 2011). The economic life of Yad Hashmona is based mainly on the Guest House, the Biblical Village, tour guiding, agriculture (beehive and orchard), and those who work outside the Moshav. Following the footsteps of the Finnish founders, the Guest House is the largest economic enterprise at Yad Hashmona. The Moshav built a high-quality furniture factory that produces all-pine, rural-Scandinavian-style furniture. A beautiful “Biblical Village” (Garden) was dedicated at Yad-Hashmona in the year 2000, in collaboration with the Swiss Beit Shalom Society and the Israel Antiqui­ ties Authority. A few years ago a new Tour (Guiding) Center was opened (Ely Schiller in Nerel, 2006). Longevity of the Commune In the year 1979 the community consisted of twenty-two inhabitants including five children (all of them with permanent residency visas in Israel) and three other families who applied for membership. Today (2011) in Yad Hashmona there are, 200 inhabitants, fifteen families with children, while the community’s master plan is for only thirty families. Currently the Moshav promotes plans to enlarge the site by adding a new neighborhood – located at the entrance to the village - with 38 new units (for families and singles with the same persuasion). De facto, this means an addition of about (at least) 60 persons - within the future of the next 4–6 years (Nerel 2011; Degani field work). Despite the changes over the years, including the community’s decision to focus on tourism, the commune has maintained its central characteristics and been successful.

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rami degani and ruth kark  Beth-El Commune in Zichron Yaakov

Origin The Bethel Society (BS) was founded by members of religious groups from Swabia, Germany, and members of the Emma Berger Society (Bethel – The House of God). After BS was established in Germany in 1958 they began to settle in Israel around 1963. They initially came to Zichron Yaakov (a Jewish community established in 1882 as an independent smallholders agricultural settlement) (Schmidgal and Kark, 2008). Leaders’ Initial Vision and Motivation The founder and director of Bethel Society until her death in 1984 was Emma Berger (1919–1984). She was the charismatic “mother of the community” who led the society abroad and the group who settled in Israel with the help of her sister Elsa Berger (1918–1993). The main motivation for the settling of Emma Berger and her group in Zichron Yaakov was their deep identification with Israel and its fate. “We feel that we are all of the seed of Abraham, and an invisible hand has led us to Israel”, said Emma Berger, expressing the over-all feeling of the group (Loth, 1980). Emma Berger also believed that the rapture, or second coming, was an imminent event and she wanted her group to be in the Holy Land when it occurred (Schmidgal and Kark, 2008). Ideology The Bethel Society is best described as an Evangelical, Pentecostal holiness group, with a strong emphasis on eschatology, love for Israel, divine healing, and communal living. We shall briefly relate to its main religious characteristics and principles. Evangelical: Bethel Society is Evangelical in that it subscribes to a trinitarian theology with a high view of Scripture and a strong emphasis on personal salvation (“being born again”). Pentecostal: The “Pfingstjubel”-songbook of the Bethel Society is the standard worship hymnal of most German Pentecostal groups since 1911. It’s services are more reminiscent of worship among pietistic circles. Prophecies and visions, usually by the leaders play an important role during the services. Holiness movement: much emphasis is placed on the aspect of holiness in the community and the lives of the individuals. The children of the



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members of the community participate in “Bible courses”, the main emphasis of which is to detect “sin” and be cleansed of it by means of confession and prayer. It is relatively simple to spot the members of the group because of their modest dress. Eschatology: BS teaches a typical Evangelical premillennialist theology, that places the rapture at the beginning of the tribulation. The immediacy of the rapture was, however, overemphasized at times. Love for Israel: Like many other Evangelical groups, from its inception BS held a great love for the Land and the People of Israel. With the beginning of their settlement in Zichron Yaakov this relationship was intensified. Particularly in Israel, BS has chosen to refrain from all missionary activities after some negative encounters with members of the Orthodox religious community. The group sees its presence in Israel as a ministry of intercession and reconciliation (2 Cor. 5:18ff.). Daily prayer for the Land and help – especially in times of crises, like wars – are the only activities of the group at this point. There is, however, the hope that at the End of Days the Messiah will come to the Land for the rapture of the saints and the salvation of the Jewish nation. Divine Healing: According to BS, the victory of Jesus over disease can already be appropriated now. One ex-member asserts that “divine healings have actually happened”. Should someone not have been healed, however, this was interpreted as a lack of faith on the part of the sick person. Members who went to consult a physician were frowned upon (Schmidgal and Kark, 2008). Past History The Bethel Society, or Berger Society, named after its founder Emma Berger, has grown since 1958 from a group of small home-fellowships into an organization with approximately 1,500 members that established and developed a “kibbutz” (a communal settlement organized along collectivist principles) in Zichron Yaakov, Israel with about three dozen homes for families and a dozen community buildings. Many of the community’s members who live abroad have visited over the years, totaling about 10,000 by 1987 (Schmidgal and Kark, 2008). Present Demographic and Economic Condition BS is run like a Kibbutz. Families eat breakfast and supper in their homes. For lunch, however, everyone comes together in the community centre.

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Since the death of Elsa Berger, a group of ‘Elders’ were responsible for the affairs of the society. All financial matters since the beginning of the settlement have been under the oversight of Emma’s sister Elsa Berger (1918–1993). She was also the leader of the movement from 1984 to 1993. Members were informed concerning financial transactions by Elsa “by way of testimony”, a practice that at times caused people to doubt her financial integrity (Schmidgal and Kark, 2008). According to one of their Elders, in 2008 their number was about 500 persons – 350 adults and 150 children. They have a huge factory, a farm, and an ABC (Atomic, Bacteriological and Chemical) shelter. The economy of Bethel Society in Israel is best described under the following headings: homes, community buildings, industrial centres, and agricultural plants. All property was registered in the name of Emma Berger, but is registered in Israel under the name of the society. Property of members living abroad (Germany, Ghana, Canada, the Netherlands, Hungary, Rumania, and Switzerland) is private. Members from abroad that join the Bethel Society in Israel transfer all their assets to the Society. Several of the members who joined had sold everything in Germany and usually would bring with them about 400,000–800,000 Euros. This is the main reason for the Society’s prosperity. Anyone wishing to leave BS later on does not get back the assets he had earlier made over to the Society. Members from abroad pay tithes and visit Israel in order to help to build up the BS. Children of members who are not “believers” may inherit their parents who are members of the Society. All extra assets are to be used to build up the ministry in Israel. The Society in Israel is successful and prosperous (Schmidgal and Kark, 2008). The society, which has assets of over $100 million, has worked hard to have a perfect record and maintain a reputation for financial transparency. Today all assets are registered in the name of the Bethel Society and should the Society disband, everything will be bequeathed to the State of Israel (Schmidgal and Kark, 2008). The society has several important features, including its numerous homes and gardens. The communities members have also constructed a dining hall, bakery, spacious religious building, kindergarten, school and, since the 1970s, an industrial area. The society produces some of its own food and carries out much of its own carpentry, construction and repairs (Schmidgal and Kark, 2008). Because of their apocalyptic outlook on history and their expectation of the war of Gog and Magog in which, weapons of mass destruction would be used, many BS members decided to come to Israel, which they



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believed would then be the safest place in the world. To prepare for this final showdown, in 1978 the group already began developing filters for bomb shelters called ABC filters. In 1982 BS began actual production of this filter. Prior to the gulf crisis in 1991, most experts were skeptical of them, but during the first Gulf War the BS factory worked day and night to meet the demand. The new filter system is called “Tewat Noah” (Noah’s Ark), reflecting BS belief that their filter would enable them to successfully survive the final cataclysm. Before the production of the filter began, BS had been subsidized up to 80 percent by its German brethren, and even after the first Gulf War it was far from being a Kibbutz that could stand on its own feet economically. In the 1990s they began supplying their products to Israel Defence Forces bases and its Merkava tank, Israeli nuclear reactors, and hospital emergency rooms. The Society also has small but technologically advanced industrial plants and the “BethEl/Magen Shaul” training center that opened in 2009, in their daughter village in Magen Shaul in the Ta’anakh Region, in the Golan Heights near Kursi, and in the Shahak Industrial Region near Shaked in the West Bank (Schmidgal and Kark, 2008). Agricultural Industries: During the time of the struggle in Zichron Yaacov, beginning in 1968, BS looked for “safer” territory. From the 1970s they developed a dairy farm in Binyamina and later grew vegetables and fruit trees and vines on their lands. Altogether, BS owns only about 445 dunams of farm land in the following breakdown: Zichron Yaakov – 70 dunams, Pardes Hanna – 170 dunams, Binyamina - 203.5 dunams, Haifa – 1.5 dunams. They also own some property east of the Sea of Galilee (Schmidgal and Kark, 2008). Longevity of the Commune During the transition from the founding stage to second-generation leadership in the Bethel Society the group of Elders still maintains a cohesive community. BS appears to be more cooperative with the community of Zichron Yaakov (including employment of local workers) and has also channeled its expansion efforts to a less hostile location (east of the Sea of Galilee). The crucial test for the Bethel Society will be its mode of transition to second-generation leadership. This could also lead either to decline and disintegration, or, alternatively, it will provide the group with an opportunity to divest itself of theological peculiarities and to further escape from its relative isolation. However, at the same time, integration may lead to its decline.

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rami degani and ruth kark  The Community of the Beatitudes in Emmaus

Origin The Beatitude Community is located north of the Trappist monastery at Latrun, not far from Park Canada, and is part of the Byzantine era town Emmaus-Nicopolis archeological site. The land was purchased in 1878 by the Carmelite Order, and in 1930 a monastery named “House of Peace” (Beth Hashalom) was built there by the Fathers of Betharram. Being in no man’s land on the Israel-Jordanian border, it was deserted by them in 1948, and served as a UN soldier’s base. Several attempts to settle the site were attempted after the 1967 war. First it was renovated in 1967–70, and the French Center for the Study of the Prehistory of the land of Israel opened next to it. In 1993 the Beatitude community was allowed to settle there (Degany, 2007). Leaders’ Initial Vision and Motivation The Community of the Lion of Judah and the Slain Lamb was founded by Deacon Ephraim, his wife Jo Croissant, and another couple in Montpelier France in 1973. Its name was changed in 1991 to The Community of the Beatitudes. The community is part of the “New Communities” that started after the Second Vatican Council as part of the charismatic renewal and the Pentecostal movement in the Catholic Church. It brought together people from all backgrounds (families, singles persons, priests, monks, nuns etc.). Father Ephraim who was the ideologue of the movement, focused on the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5), the adoration of Mary, and the Eucharistia. The community of the Beatitude vision is to live in celibacy, and according to the model of the first Christian Communities as described in the book of Acts (Archive Emmaus, Beth Shalom). History The first community in the Holy land was founded in Jerusalem in the Year 1975, but as they looked for a place in the rural country, they got permission from the Fathers of Betharram to settle in Emmaus a site connected to the appearance of Jesus after his resurrection (Luke 24, 13–27). According to their ideology they rebuilt the place, with a beautiful garden, restored the Chapel and started an initiative to continue the excavation of historical Emmaus.



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Present Demographic and Economic Condition Most of the members are from France, but there are also members from other nationalities, including local Catholic Hebrew. Unlike Catholic monastic orders, the Emmaus Community as all the other communes around the world is open to all types of Catholics, including married people with their children, single people, priests and monastic personspeople that permanently in the community share their life and form an integral part of a “Family”. At its height the community included forty people including five families with children. During the Second Intifada in the 2000s the families left and today there are only twenty Brothers, Sisters and Lay members (In the spring of 2011 two families from France were planning to join them), (Degany, Fieldwork, 2011). When a person is permanently committed to the community he/she put all their goods in common renouncing any type of personal property or savings. A great deal of their work covers their current expenses, but they also rely on donations from abroad. Their main income comes from maintaining the site, including the archeological site, holding seminars on Judaism and Christianity, and from donations. The community elects its own leaders who it calls a ‘Shepherd’. One of their main spiritual beliefs is the Love of Israel – based on the Declaration of Notra Aetate and the call by Pope John Paul II in which he described the Jewish people as our elder brothers. The community’s focuses on the Jewish roots of Catholic faith, giving a specific place for prayer for and with the Jewish people. “The Community prays intensely for this day when God will be all in all, Jews and non-Jews together” (Emmaus- Beth Shalom Archive). Longevity of the Commune The Beatitudes Community was recognized by the Vatican in January 2003 as an “International Private Association of Faithful of Pontifical Right with Juridical Personality” (Vatican decree, 2003), a classification that means that although they are a Catholic organization they are different from a regular monastic order. There are an increasing number of Beatitudes Communities around the world – today numbering 1,500 members (120 families; 550 consecrated sisters and brothers (of whom 100 are seminarians); fifty priests; 550 celibates) in seventy of the communities on five continents (Degani, La Salle Interview, 2011).

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rami degani and ruth kark  Conclusion

From the beginning of the twentieth century onward various types of communes and cooperatives were established in Palestine/ Israel. These included the more well-known Jewish Zionist Kibbutzim, Moshavim and other unique modes of settlement. As illustrated in this unique study, there were also numerous attempts to establish Christian communes in the Holy Land based on ideals associated with the earliest Christian believers. In an introduction to a book series on communes in the world, Eliyahu Regev examined four types of communes. He based his classification on certain factors, among them on their being open and mixed or enclosed, being run authoritatively or communally, sharing or not sharing property, and serving the society’s unprivileged (Regev, 2000). The Christian and Messianic Jews communes we studied can be categorized by these parameters as well. In Bethell the property is communal and it is run in an authoritative and enclosed mode. Nes Ammim is run communally, with partial ownership of the common property. In Yad Hashmona the management is communal, and the production means are held communally while members also have private property. The Community of the Beati­ tudes in Emmaus is run communally and is a closed community with common property. Ir Ovot, and Tel Gamliel were closed communities, run authoritatively, with common property. The new Christian and messianic Jews’ communes were established after the founding of the State of Israel. In spite of the uniqueness of each commune, there were several common denominators to all of them: All communes subscribe to conservative evangelical theology with emphasis on eschatology, and a belief in the Biblical prophecies, and the literal meaning of the Old and New Testament. Most of them chose as an ideal the model of the early Christians; thus they aspired to create a communal settlement (Kibbutz or cooperative Moshav), and live communal life. Their ideology included a great love for Israel, and belief in the restoration of Israel, support of Zionism, and a wish to have a dialogue with Jews and Israelis, and with other religions such as Islam. They stressed the Jewish sources of Christianity. Most communes identify with the sufferings of Israel, and for some the Holocaust is a central issue related to their ideologies and activities. In terms of leadership, volunteerism, background of membership and financing the communes had much in common. All the groups had



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charismatic leaders who struggled for many years to establish the settlement and led their groups for many years. Most of the groups had an international background. The communes depend or supplement their economy by donations from abroad. Most of them are also supported by volunteers from abroad who come to work in Israel for a year or two, but are not settling permanently due to personal decisions, or governmental regulations re foreign citizens, that prevent their long term stay. Because of their Christian origins and fears of missionary activity most of the communes faced strong opposition in the initial stages, which in some cases continued through the present. The main cause was the suspicion of their motivations and ends by Jewish anti missionary religious bodies such as Yad Le-Achim, and other Israeli local or political sectors. Presently, early in the second decade of the twenty first century, when assessing the future long term prospects of communes that persisted, and those that failed, we see that from the six communes discussed in detail in the paper, two no longer exist – Tel Gamliel and Ir Ovot. Two communes, Beth-El and Yad Hashmaona are thriving and seem to have a long term future, and the others struggle to survive. Tel Gamliel and Ir Ovot are good examples of communes in which the group depended ideologically and economically on a charismatic leader. A vacuum was created after their death and the settlement did not go on. The continuity of a core of second and third generations, and the economic independence issues, seems to be central in the longevity and success of the communes we examined. The communes of Beth-El, Yad Hashmona and Nes Ammim managed to create an alternative leadership that followed in the steps of the founding leaders and generations. Moreover Yad Hashmona absorbed Israeli families who settled there. These are the main reasons why Beth-El and Yad Hashmona survived and have a future, while Nes Ammim, and the Community of the Beatitudes in Emmaus have difficulties and depend mainly on diminishing donations from abroad. One of the central questions is why, in a country that produced more than 270 Kibbutzes and over 254 Moshavs, only a handful of Christian communes were established and even less succeeded. The answer to this question is complex. Demographically, all the communities had to rely on immigrants from abroad, as the local Christian community did not produce any communes. Furthermore, since most of the land in Israel is owned by the government, to the tune of 93%, the societies had to face a further hurdle of locating parcels of land they could develop and receiving permission from the state to do so. In most cases the communities opted to search out scarce private land for themselves,

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rather than waiting for the state, whose first priority is Jewish settlement, to help them locate public land. It should be noted that with the passing decades, the sympathy for Israel and especially of the “miracle” of the restoration of Israel decreased in Europe, in the countries of origin of the communes established. The process of secularization that occurred and continues in Europe, together with the Arab-Israeli conflict, were among the main reasons for the decrease in the attractiveness of communal Christian settlements in the Holy Land. Other factors contributing to the decline in the demand to join and live in those communes are the cultural gap between Europe and Israel and the need for economic and social security for families with children and for those about to retire, in contrast with the multiple options available in the European countries of origin, notwithstanding the current European economic crisis. Another issue facing the communal Christian organizations has been political and religious opposition by Jewish activists in Israel. Over the last twenty years we have witnessed an extension of the influence of extremist and ultraorthodox Jews in Israeli politics. This process has also led to the increasing opposition within both the government and the population to Christian settlement in Israel. Israeli Jewish religious organizations fear the missionary aspects associated with Christians, especially evangelicals, and they have tended to shun such groups. Because some of the organizations included messianic Jews or Hebrew speaking converts this was also perceived as a threat, even if a minor one, to the Jewish character of the state and led to opposition. To sum up, the combination of problems such as the unstable political climate in the Middle East, Israeli coalition politics, and the economic crisis in Europe and the US, which led to the decline in contributions, have influenced and will continue to influence, religious Christian communal settlement in Israel. It seems that the only settlements that have a future are Beth-El and Yad Hashmona, which successfully traversed the economic crisis, Beth-El as a closed community with strong backing from Germany and Yad Hashmona as a regular Israeli settlement populated by Messianic Hebrews. The inevitable conclusion is that in the current situation we see no future for the development of new Christian communities in the Holy Land/Israel.

GENDER, POWER AND EQUALITY: WOMEN’S ROLES IN HUTTERITE SOCIETY Yossi Katz and John C. Lehr  Introduction The Hutterian Brethren are an observant Christian Anabaptist community with origins in Moravia, in the first half of the 16th century. The community is unique in its commitment to communal living, its Christian Anabaptist religious practice, and its desire to isolate itself both spatially and socially from the surrounding world, all of which are deeply embodied in its theology. The Hutterite community is today the largest in the western world that is based on community of goods (full sharing of assets), minimal personal assets and social equality. After 250 years of wanderings and persecution in central and east Europe, the Hutterites left the old world and in the 1870s immigrated to the United States, where they established a few communities. During the First World War, because of their German identity and their pacifist refusal to either bear arms or support the war effort, they were harassed by their American neighbours. Their young men were conscripted and imprisoned in brutal conditions for refusing to serve. As a result the Hutterites decided to liquidate their communities in the United States and move to Canada. Many years later they returned to the United States and established new communities there. Today the Hutterian Brethren number more than 45,000 people living in almost 500 separate communities (100–120 people in each). Most of their communities are in Canada’s prairie provinces of Manitoba, Saskatchewan and Alberta. The remainder are in British Columbia and the central and western states of the United States: South Dakota, North Dakota, Minnesota and Washington. The Hutterian Brethren are divided into three leut or groups: the Schmiedeleut, the Dariusleut and the Lehrerleut. In the early 1990s the Schmiedeleut subdivided into two groups: one conservative (Group 2) and the other more liberal (Group 1) (Katz and Lehr 2007; Janzen and Stanton 2010; Hofer 2004; von Schlachta 2008). From the time of their arrival in North America the economy of most Hutterite colonies has been based upon agriculture. Crops are grown with

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both self-sufficiency and the market in mind. In recent years depressed commodity markets and the high price of agricultural land has caused some colonies to incorporate manufacturing into their economy. Each colony is headed by a lay minister, who is the supreme religious and economic authority of the colony. The community is managed by the boss, who is in charge of the colony’s economy, and the farm boss, who is the manager of agricultural operations. The German language teacher also has an important role within the colony. He is responsible for teaching the Hutterite religion and tradition, the German language and the Hutterian dialect to the school children for two hours each day. Every colony has an English school, which is a school operated by the provincial or state government, where the children follow the provincial or state curriculum. Other core positions include those of the second minister and the head cook. The colony leadership is constituted of the minister, the second minister, the boss, the farm boss, and two colony elders. Usually, when the colony’s population exceeds 120 people, the colony starts the process of branching out and establishing a daughter colony. Each colony is an independent social and economic unit. However, the colonies maintain a diverse system of mutual aid and economic cooperation. They also interact and cooperate in social and religious matters. The ministers of colonies within each leut convene and formulate rules intended, among other things, to maintain the conduct of the communities’ members according to the tenets of Hutterian religious principles and traditions. Contrary to popular belief, the Hutterite communities today are not a monolithic body, in the sense of “you have seen one colony – you have seen them all”. Perhaps in the past colonies were more uniform in their physical appearance and their socio-economic organization. However, today, there are many differences between colonies, even those within the same leut, in their social behaviour, their adherence to Hutterian religious decrees and their attitudes towards interaction with the outside secular world. The Lehrerleut colonies are generally the most conservative, resisting interaction with the secular world as much as possible and opposing change to the traditional way of life. The Dariusleut are seen as less rigid, although some Dariusleut colonies are more conservative than many Lehrerleut colonies. The Schmiedeleut are generally the most liberal, but even here there are significant differences within the leut. The Schmiedeleut subdivided in the beginning of 1990s, splitting into a group of communities considered more conservative and whose economy is based on agriculture (Group 2 colonies), and to a group of more liberal



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(Group 1) colonies where a substantial part of their income often comes from industry. Nevertheless, because of the large variance of the communes it is possible to find colonies within a specific leut that are more similar to communities in the other leuts than to communities that belong to their own. This diversity limits the generalizations that may be made regarding the entire Hutterite community. This paper refers only to Schmiedeleut communities, and unless specified otherwise, to the colonies of the conservative Group 2 section of the leut (Katz and Lehr 2007; Janzen and Stanton 2010).1 This paper, which is part of a comprehensive research project on the social position, economic role and attitudes of Hutterite women, seeks to examine gender relationships within the Hutterian community. Today, many visitors to Hutterite colonies are astounded to learn that Hutterite women have no direct voice in colony affairs. They cannot vote in colony elections, cannot occupy leadership positions, apart from that of head cook, and have their fields of activity severely constrained. In short, the modern Hutterite colony is based on a model of governance and social organization that reflects the views and attitudes on an enlightened European Christian society in the sixteenth century. In its time Hutterian society was progressive but in the twenty-first century it appears archaic and at odds with the societal values of mainstream western society. We hypothesize that the Hutterites’ exposure to the external world, which has been accelerated in recent decades by communications technology, the digital revolution, and the process of globalization, has driven economic change within the communities, and has begun to also influence gender roles within Hutterite society. Traditional views of a women’s place, role, status, conduct and influence within the colony are poised for renegotiation. In other words, the image of the Hutterite woman as a powerless disenfranchised woman toiling within a traditional patriarchal Christian community does not fit the today’s reality. Very little has been written about the place of women in the Hutterite communities (Kienzelr 2005; Kirkby 2007). This research is based primarily on interviews and correspondence with women and men in various Manitoba Schmiedeleut communities, mostly the conservative Group 2 colonies, from 2000–2011 and on observations and conversations during many visits to colonies during the same period. This primary data was supplemented by secondary literature and colony archival holdings. 1 All the data not referenced is based in oral interviews.

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Although the Hutterites separate themselves from the outside world, the Schmiedeleut are hospitable people. Nonetheless, few outsiders are privileged to experience Hutterite life on the inside, to visit as family friends, and to become privy to the intimate details of colony life. It is not customary to invite outsiders to visit and share meals and even more rare to be invited to in the colonies for a period of time. In spite of this, we were able to do so. The reason for that exception is a deep friendship that the authors developed since the mid-1990s with some colonies. The first author was hosted a few times in the Hutterite colonies, each time for a period of a few weeks, and the second author and his family are frequent guests at certain colonies. In 1999 three first ministers from three colonies, and in 2006 the first minister and the German teacher from one colony and the colony mechanic and his wife from another, were hosted by the first author in Israel. We maintain regular contact with the colonies via phone, personal visits and, with some Group 1 colonies, via email. We received the Ordnungen und Konferenz Briefen (the Regulations and Conference Letters) of the Schmiedeleut and other primary sources from our Hutterite friends. During our visits to the colonies we were given freedom of action, and we were allowed to interview members of the colony – men and women – and take part in the activities of the colony. There is a relationship of trust between the colonies and us. Following their request, our informants remain anonymous and their colonies are not identified. The first section of the paper deals with the principles of Hutterite belief and the place of the woman in this framework; the second section describes the female occupations; the third section discusses the inherent lack of gender equality in the Hutterite colonies; the fourth section deals with the women’s attitude towards their lack of equality; the fifth section analyzes the ways in which women influence the communities and their growing will to do so in recent years; and the sixth section discusses where women have influence within the colony and the areas of colony operation where they wish to see change.  Hutterite Beliefs and the Place of Women in the Colony The origins of the Hutterite community lie in the first half of the 16th century in Moravia. It is one of many radical Anabaptist communities that arose during the Reformation that denied the authority of both the Catholic and mainstream Protestant churches. The community



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crystallized in 1533, when Jacob Hutter became its leader. Hutter consolidated likeminded groups that eventually bore his name: the Hutterian Brethren. Before his martyrdom in 1536 he established the roots for its theological ideas. His successor, Peter Rideman, well versed in theology, formulated the principles of Hutterite belief, based on both the Old and the New Testaments. These were published in Germany in 1545 (Rideman 1970). Anabaptist Christianity, which spread in Central Europe in the early 1620s and later to areas beyond, regards the Holy Scriptures, not the institutions of the Roman Catholic church, as the source for man’s salvation. According to Hutterite belief, one can understand the Holy Scriptures and have a relationship with God without the mediation and intervention of the church. Anabaptists believe that baptism cannot be a formal external ritual undertaken at birth; it requires understanding and conscious commitment to Christ, something that is only possible in adulthood. This belief is drawn from the words of the New Testament: “Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned” (Mark 16: 16). Thus they rejected the baptism of children, which gives them their name of Anabaptists, accorded to all those who postpone baptism until adulthood when they make their own decision to be baptized. Anabaptists regard religious rituals as an expression of the believer’s bond to the religious actions that were part of these rituals. Underpinning their teachings is a commitment to re-establish the kingdom of God on earth by expressing love to God and Man, and rejecting hatred, violence and war in favour of serenity and peace, and choosing the way of life of Jesus. All these followed the teachings of Jesus in the New Testament, teachings that early Anabaptists felt had been ignored for hundreds of years. According to Anabaptists, the conscience of the individual and his power of belief should direct the relationship between man and society and state institutions. On the basis of their religious principles, and in the spirit of the first Christian community, they demanded absolute social equality and opposition to religious and secular rule if it refuses to consider the voice of an individual’s conscience. They rejected the assumption that that Jesus was in the form of flesh and blood, emphasizing his godly quality. In general they tended to interpret the world through the prism of events in the Old and New Testaments. They forbade the use of secular courts or religious courts outside Anabaptist circles; prohibited the use of weapons or violence; forbade their adherents from serving an .

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institution backed by force. Their pacifist zealousness greatly influenced their migration history within Europe and the New World (Hostetler 1974; Friedmann 1961). Besides the Hutterites, the Anabaptists include communities such as the Mennonites and the Amish. Hutterite theology is based squarely on Anabaptist principles, on the Old and New Testaments, and on a determination to recreate ancient Christianity – the Christianity of the apostles, as described in the New Testament. They hope to obey the Holy Scriptures word for word and to continue the model of the first Church. As do other Anabaptists, they regard Roman Catholics and less radical Protestant groups as false prophets, but believe that God protects the Jews because they are the chosen people. The worship of God, in accord with the teachings of the Old and New Testaments, is central to Hutterite life: in all his activities man should think about what God desires of him. His role in this world is to fight evil and resist temptation, and to prepare constantly for eternal life in the hereafter. Without fighting evil in all its manifestations, it is impossible to ensure the Kingdom of Heaven on earth (Katz and Lehr 1999; Gross 1998; Kraybill and Bowman 2001). One of the main principles of the Hutterite theology strongly anchored in the Old and New Testaments, and which effectively distinguishes Hutterites from other Anabaptist communities, is the demand for total communal life, complete sharing of assets, social and economic equality, and subjugation of personal needs to those of the community. Total collectivity is central to Hutterite life. Colony organization and rules of conduct assure that. Indeed, the motto of the Hutterite community is “from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs”. The full collective nature of the Hutterite community is not economically motivated, nor is it connected with a secular-political search for egalitarianism. Certainly, it is not socialism in the political sense. Rather, the concept of community of goods is deeply embedded in the Hutterite theology as a way to realize ancient Christianity. In the present, as in the past, a Hutterite colony cannot exist without collectivity and communal life. Abandonment of collective-communal life means abandonment of the Hutterite religion: to leave the colony is to leave the church. Anyone who abandons it is no longer a Hutterite. The biblical basis behind the full collectiveness in Hutterite life is the story of the manna in the Bible (Exodus 16, 15–18). According to Hutterite interpretation, God’s decree demands equality and division of goods according to needs, and it forbids that one should have plenty and the other should suffer poverty (Rideman 1970).



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As noted earlier, equality in the colony is expressed in the rule “from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs”. However, even in the Hutterite community, total equality cannot exist. Women do not have a right to vote and the jobs that are open to them are limited; individuals’ rights and obligations are dependent upon age and their status according to the Hutterite religion (for example, those who have been baptized have different rights than do those who are not yet baptized); lastly, in each colony a small group of people hold the most important and influential jobs. Equality is expressed, therefore, in full ownership of the colony assets, minimal individual assets, in collective responsibility, mutual aid and comprehensive communal activity in all aspects of life. Another theological principle that has always dictated the spatial isolation of Hutterite colonies, and their socio-cultural separation from secular society, is the principle of the “two worlds:” the Hutterite world – the colonies – and the other sinful secular world beyond (Friedmann 1961). According to the Hutterite outlook, they are responsible for establishing the new kingdom of God, separated from the existing world order, which Satan rules. They believe that additional proof of the evil of the existing world order, is the persecution of the true church, (the Hutterite Church) by Catholic and mainstream Protestant churches, as well as by the State, The old church failed to combine the two worlds, therefore the new church (the Hutterite Church) must be established here and now (and not in eternal life, in heaven) as a part of the framework of a new world. This new world is the kingdom of God, separated from the surrounding world. On the other hand, the kingdom of darkness, rules over those who do not see the light. Strict adherence to their ancestral Hutterische language throughout the generations reflects their view that they must isolate themselves from the outside world as much as possible. The Hutterites’ professionalization in agriculture and, latterly, in industry, stems from their faith, since it prohibits engaging in commerce, which is considered a sinful occupation (Rideman 1970, pp. 126–128). Further­ more, agriculture enables the Hutterites to live in a rural environment as a religious unit, far from the evil and annoying influences of urban life. “Each Bruderhof… is an agricultural family… but it is not only or mainly an economic organism. It is a church which has chosen this organism as a means to realize religious beliefs and a religious way of life” (Cameron 1983: 23–24). According to Hutterite belief, the Hutterite colony and the Hutterite church are one. Wherever there is a Hutterite community, the Hutterite

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church is present and vice versa. “…The Hutterite Church is the Colony, and the Colony is the Church. These terms are interchangeable… the Colony exists only as a part of the total… When you are a Hutterian, the whole life is a church. It is totalistic. Religion sanctions every aspect of work. The Hutterian Colony is a segment of the Hutterian Church… Each Bruderhof of 80 to 200 people is an agricultural family, like an Israeli Kibbutz or a Chinese commune; but it is not only or mainly an economic organism. It is a Church which has chosen this organism as a means to realize religious beliefs and a religious way of life… A colony of the Hutterian Brethren [is] a local expression of the Hutterian Church engaged in full unanimity of faith, life and work”.2 The traditional status and role of the women in the Hutterite community is first and foremost a derivative of the Hutterite theology, formulated by Peter Rideman: We say, first, that since woman was taken from man, and not man from woman, man hath lordship but woman weakness, humility and submission, therefore she should be under the yoke of man and obedient to him, even as the woman was commanded by God when he said to her, “The man shall be thy lord” [according to God’s curse for women: “I will greatly increase your anguish and your pregnancy. It will be with anguish that you will give birth to children. Your passion will be to your husband, and he will dominate you”, Genesis 3, 16] Now, since this is so she should heed her husband, inquire of him, ask him and do all things with and naught without his counsel. For where she doeth this not, she forsaketh the place in the order in which she hath been set by God, encroacheth upon the lordship of the man and forsaketh the command of her Creator as well as the submission that she promised hear husband in the union of marriage: to honour him as a wife her husband. The man, on the other hand, as the one in whom something of God’s glory is seen, should have compassion on the woman as the weaker instrument, and in love and kindness go before her and care for her, not only in temporal but also and still more in spiritual things… Where, however, the husband doeth this not or is careless and superficial therein, he forsaketh the glory which was given him by God, as well as God’s order (Rideman 1970, pp. 97–99). 2 James Valley Colony Archive, Benjamin Hofer, John Hofer, Joseph Hofer and David Hofer – Plaintiffs, and Zacharias Hofer, Jacob Hofer and Jacob S. Hofer, as Trustees and Representatives of the Interlake Colony of Hutterian Brethren, and the said Interlake Colony of Hutterian Brethren – Defendants, R. J. B. Dickson, May 6 1966 (Esau 2004).



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According to Hutterite theology, the woman is inferior; she must be submissive and controlled; the man is the one who rules. Thus, in Hutterite male society and in some parts of female society, the woman is considered inferior to the man physically, intellectually and emotionally. They are also considered irresponsible; therefore, they should be denied all responsibility. Thus, a humorous statement common among Hutterite men says that if you give money to women, they will squander it. Also, the woman must obey her husband and follow him. That is the reason that immediately after the marriage ceremony the woman moves to the husband’s colony. In very few cases, if any at all, does the man move to his wife’s colony.  Women’s Work Places Work in Hutterite is gendered. In addition to child-rearing, most Hutterite women’s work is domestically oriented, even if undertaken beyond the confines of their home, Women work in what might be termed colony services: performing kitchen chores (including meat processing, dressing fowl and making conserves), cooking, serving in the dining hall, doing laundry,3 making soap, sewing and weaving (including making items of clothing for all the members of the colony, bedding and curtains etc.), cleaning, and taking care of the babies and the small children in the colony nursery. During the summer, they constitute the main source of labour for the colony vegetable garden and orchard. Since there are three central meals a day in the colony dining hall, a great part of the women’s day revolves around these places. Work in the kitchen and in the dining hall begins at age 15 and usually ends at retirement or when the health condition of the woman does not enable her to work any longer. In addition to that, under the supervision of the minister, the second minister or the English teacher, the women perform all the tasks in the vegetable garden and in the nursery. They also go to other colonies, accompanied by the minister, to help them to harvest fruit and vegetables for their colonies. In some of the Lehrerleut colonies, until recently the community’s women sold the produce of the vegetable garden and eggs at the main crossroads near the colonies. However, this was stopped when it became clear that many women were absent from 3 Every woman who has a family is entitled to certain weekly “laundry hours” during which all the colony’s washing machines and dryers are available to her.

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the colony for long hours, which was thought to threaten the upbring­ ing  of their children. Each woman is entitled to a maternity leave of eight weeks during which she rests, takes care of the baby and is entitled to a special diet from the kitchen (Oral interviews and Hartse 1995, pp. 109–130).  Equality and Gender in Hutterite Society There is no gender equality in Hutterite society. Men have more privileges than women, as well as more obligations and access to a wider diversity of jobs. In this respect, there is some similarity between the status of women in Hutterite society and that of women in third world traditional patriarchic communities. This is despite the Hutterites’ long residence in North America where the secular world has granted women increased rights and a measure of economic equality. Current attitudes of Hutterite males on the question of women voting in colony affairs, mirror those held in secular society at the end of the nineteenth century, before women obtained the franchise. Today these attitudes seem anachronistic and sexist. For example, one colony member, a father of six in his 30s, said that “women should not be given any status or voting rights [in colony affairs] not even the Cook or the head kindergarten teacher [should have the right to vote]. Women are responsible for sins; look at what Eve did”. It seems that this opinion, that one should not deviate from the Hutterite religion and tradition, is common in the Hutterite community. A minister acknowledged the difficulty of the situation: “we regard the woman as equal to us in anything, maybe even superior to us – but we want to exempt her from the worry. Just as in the family the husband is responsible for the livelihood – here in the colony the worries of management and organization should be the responsibility of the men” (Meged 1947). For feminists this lack of voting rights is a serious shortcoming of colony life, to put it mildly. General meetings in the colonies where various colony issues are discussed, including those of issues of religion, society and economy, are open only to baptized males. Women cannot participate in the elections for positions within the colony, such as minister, boss, farm boss, German teacher, workshop manager and even the workshop workers. Even the election of the head cook, the most responsible job open to a woman, is done exclusively by men. Similarly, men elect the head kindergarten teacher. Beside these two jobs – head cook and head kindergarten teacher – women cannot be elected to any job in



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the colony. A woman will never be able to be appointed a colony manager or manager of the agricultural farm, German teacher, workshop manager, workshop worker or one of the colony’s leaders, to say nothing about being appointed minister. The planning of the kitchen and dining hall and their equipment, territories that are supposedly in the women’s realm, are the full responsibility of men. Formally, if they want to let the women take part in these matters they may do so, but that is a male prerogative. Women do not generally work in the manual or trade sectors of the colony. In some colonies they perform light work in colony manufacturing plants but seldom, if ever, tackle implement repair, carpentry, or electrical work. Nor do they work in the cow barn, pig barn, chicken barn or turkey barn. That is man’s work. Women do not work in the fields during seeding or harvest since they seldom, if ever, drive heavy agricultural equipment. They do however work in the colony garden under the direction of the (male) minister or German teacher. Women are generally not allowed to have a driver’s license or drive a colony vehicle, although many younger women frequently drive smaller tractors and light vehicles on colony property, and do so with some skill. Thus, they cannot go out by themselves to nearby towns (to visit the doctor, for example), nor can married women visit their family on another colony or participate in any other activity outside the colony without a male, their husband, the first or second minister, to drive them. In this way the minister practically supervises the conduct of the women outside the colony. Without a driver’s license women cannot drive any colony vehicle on a public roadway, which restricts their mobility and also prevents them from operating heavy equipment which needs to be moved from field to field along roadways. When on colony property women will be driven rather than drive whenever a male is present. Even when going to and from the vegetable garden they are usually driven by young boys, the minister or the German teacher, in a cart harnessed to a tractor. They are not allowed to sit near the driver. However, there are colonies in the liberal section of the Schmiedeleut that have recently allowed women to obtain a driver’s license to help in cases when all the men are busy and there in no one to drive the women. The lack of gender equality is also expressed in more personal matters. For example, the marriage ceremony reflects the man’s superiority over the woman. During the ceremony, the minister utters phrases such as “women are weaker”, and “God authorized the husband to be the head for the woman.” Divorce is prohibited and a woman can never leave her husband. The marriage ceremony is always held in the husband’s colony. Immediately after the wedding a woman must move to the husband’s

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colony and live there permanently. There are only rare cases, if any at all, in which the husband moves to his wife’s colony. If a couple go somewhere outside the colony, only the husband will receive the expenses for the day and the woman will receive nothing. The amount that the man receives is deemed sufficient for both of them. According to Hutterite religion, women are not allowed to use birth control, even with their husbands’ consent. Birth control is possible only with the approval of the minister, and a necessary condition (but not necessarily sufficient) is a medical confirmation that pregnancy is a health risk for the woman. However, the minister may ignore the doctor’s orders. Furthermore, if the minister realizes that after a year from the wedding the couple does not have children yet, he will approach the couple and ask for an explanation. In certain colonies the purchase of shoes and clothing for the women (including underwear) is done by the minister, or at least by the women accompanied by the minister. According to a Lehrerleut minister, which, as mentioned above, is considered the strictest leut, “if we will let women purchase by themselves items of clothing, they will squander the money or buy wild clothes and stray out from the norms”. This comes in stark contrast to the situation encountered by a woman on another colony which is a part of the more liberal Group 1 Schmeideleut colonies: In the summer of 2003, two of my fellow Hutterite friends and myself [from the more liberal Group One Schmiedeleut] went to Europe for a month to take part in a German language course. We had credit cards from our colonies and when I was given mine, I was not even as much as told how to spend money. I was trusted with it, just as anybody else would have been. Furthermore, I didn’t even expect it to be any different. Additionally, I find it hard to believe that many Hutterite men think that women handle money irresponsibly. I would say the opposite is true. (Email communication)

 Women’s Attitudes to Inequality When questioned about their perceptions of their unequal status in Hutterite society many Hutterite women will brush it off with a noncommittal reply or will laughingly respond, “it’s not a problem, we tell our husbands how to vote!” But attitudes are not uniform. Most accept their inferior status serenely, just as most women in the wider community accepted their inferior status in the days before they received the vote or received equal opportunity in the workforce. Thus many Hutterite women are not troubled by the issue. For them the situation is natural, for that was the case for hundreds of years in the Hutterite tradition. One should



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not ask why men and women are different physically and why women cannot wear trousers but wear long dresses and cover their hair, so one should not ask why there is no equality between the genders. Furthermore, the Hutterite women do not think of the issue in terms of lack of equality. They have special roles in the colony. Everything that is connected to the kitchen and food preparation, the making of conserves, preparing meat, working in the vegetable garden, sewing and quilting, cleaning and arranging the house, doing laundry, the education of the small children, the responsibility for educating the children at home, is all in their domain. Likewise, men have their special roles. These include the right to elect and be elected for most of the jobs in the colony, participate and vote in the general meeting, drive the women around etc. In general, a casual visitor to a Hutterite colony who asks the members questions about different rules and conduct, usually receives the answer “that’s the way it is”. This is not an evasion; the person asked is seldom troubled by the question and does not know the answer. For example, when we asked why the evening prayer is cancelled when the minister is out of the colony in the evening, the answer we received was “that’s the way it is”. Not all Hutterite women are satisfied with the answer “that’s the way it is”. Some emphasized the total loyalty to the principles of the Hutterite religion and tradition, in which the lack of equality was long embedded. Other women said that they assume that men think only of the good of the colony when voting for something, and some women praised the total dependence of men on the colony’s women in all matters concerning kitchen chores and preparation of food, clothing, other service tasks, organization of the house and the education of the children. The exclusive control awarded to women in all these matters was regarded by them as compensation, and perhaps even more than that, for their exclusion from other activities in the colony and for their lack of voting rights. The great variation of circumstance and attitudes of women within the Schmiedeleut is shown by the remark of one Group 1colony member who clearly felt fulfilled and respected by her male peers: I have never felt that the men in my life look down on me. That includes family, friends, fellow teachers, acquaintances and ministers. I’ve asked other women’s opinion on this and they feel just as I do. Over the last year I’ve had the opportunity to translate a set of Bible stories into our language with a Wycliffe linguist. Over that time, I’ve had tremendous support and encouragement from men as well as women. In my work as a German teacher I never feel that the men who are also teachers, see me as inferior to them. I’m not saying that men looking down on women, doesn’t exist on

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The extent of the devotion to the principles of religion as a factor which explains the naïve acceptance of their situation is evident in things said by one respondent: Sometimes I long for mental challenges. I feel that the work here is not challenging; I am frustrated. When this feeling hits me I challenge myself with reading, arithmetic exercises and sophisticated knitting and sewing work. I sit a lot with my husband to help him solve problems at work. But all this is not enough. I am very troubled by the feeling the many things here are trivial. Nonetheless, I never thought this is a reason to leave the colony, or the Hutterite religion. Only through the commune, only through the Hutterite life, will I reach Heaven, and this is my mission in life.

Only few Hutterites, whether male or female, think “outside the box.” Some who do so are prepared to face the issue of gender inequality rights (as well as other issues) in a more complex way. They are aware that equal rights for women is a cornerstone of Human Rights legislation in Canada and the United States. Indeed, this is the society from which they wish to remain separate. In the 21st century, things remain constant in theory only and women’s rights whether in the colony or in the secular world are no exception. Women who think “outside the box” in some colonies supplied various and complex answers to the issue of their inferiority. A married woman in her 40s, a mother of two, expressed on the one hand total loyalty to the Hutterite religion, including all matters concerning the status of women, but on the other hand she clearly felt frustrated with her position. We believe that original sin comes from Eve. Women are considered weaker, as Eve was, and therefore they should not be given power. Because the Old and New Testament do not believe in equal rights, we do not either. When­ ever women receive power, the right to vote, they get divorced and ruin the family… [but] we are aware that our status stands in contrast to the status of the prophetess Deborah and this is frustrating. What’s especially frustrating is that the men think that they are cleverer than we are. We are not less smart than our husbands, but they push us down. It is not simple… Why is it that in some colonies the women have to go with the minister to town and buy shoes and underwear only with him? Why do they have to give him the size of their clothes and he buys it in town for them? This is not a man’s business. They should give us the money and we will buy it ourselves…4 4 It seems that today, at least among the Schmiedeleut, women are totally independent regarding the purchase of underwear items and shoes.



gender, power and equality255  My mother tells my father who is the minister of one of the Schmiedeleut colonies, “things have to be done differently” and it is frustrating that he does not accept this, and why he does not find an informal way which takes into consideration the will of the women. In the colony where my parents live they listen to women, for example, regarding the new dining hall and the kitchen; the men accepted the opinion of the Head Cook, but in other places the men do not listen to the women and are not even consulting them regarding these issues. Sometimes, when I am frustrated about something, I convince myself that if this is for the good of the colony, then it should be accepted… Sometimes we even have to pray to God to relieve us from the sorrow and frustration for not considering our opinion and not consulting us. Except for praying, there is nothing I can do, I must accept things. I once complained to the leaders about the decision not to let a certain lonely woman have a sewing machine. They wanted to punish me for that, because I shouldn’t have complained after decision has been made by the leaders… However, we as women will not initiate a serious opposition unless there is some very serious matter at stake, and even then, I am not sure we will do something… There was an exceptional case in one of colonies of the liberal section of the Schmiedeleut. The women decided to move to our side [the conservative Schmiedeleut], they made a strike and didn’t cook. The result was that the minister of that colony left, and the whole colony, under the leadership of the second minister, moved to our side.

On the right of women to decide for themselves how many children they are going to have and their criticism of ministers who refuse to accept the doctor’s opinion forbidding them, for medical reasons, to have any more children, she added: In some cases, women had heart attacks and died. The colony did not permit them to stop the pregnancy. Today there is a greater awareness. It is more acceptable. There should be more awareness to the health needs of women. Men must be more responsible… When dealing with such matters, I believe we should protest and lead to a strike. But this wouldn’t work, because we are supposed to accept everything, because men think that they know everything and they dictate everything to us. Therefore, a strike wouldn’t be efficient and wouldn’t help. A small number of women cannot change the way of thinking of 400 years, and the problem is that most Hutterite women do not think like me. They are passive, they will not rebel, they are busy raising children, and they believe that man is superior.

She was not alone in condemning the actions of ministers who overrode medical advice and imperiled women’s lives. A married woman in another colony, a woman her late 20s and a mother of two stated: I believe that after the first child, one should limit births and release the body. There is the “Hutterite syndrome” – children do no grow because the body is not prepared for another child. Birthrates should be limited for

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yossi katz and john c. lehr the woman’s comfort. I do not think that one should need the minister’s approval. We should act according to common sense and not ask the minister to decide. In my opinion, contrary to my husband, this is not the minister’s business; this is my business, my husband’s and my doctor’s. My husband does not think so, he thinks that the decision should be made by the minister. If I feel that I have no energy now for another child, that should be my decision and I don’t have to ask the minister. It does not affect my religious belief… This is not an issue that we women talk about. If you will talk to five Hutterite women on this issue, you will get five different opinions. This is not something we talk about.

Another opinion on the issue of lack of equal rights for women we heard from a single woman in her late 30s. She was not bothered at all by the fact that women have no voting rights. She gave two reasons: Firstly, most of the issues discussed at the meetings are not relevant for her in particular and for women in general. Secondly, women have a big influence, direct and indirect, on the voting of their husbands and thus on development of the colony and the lives of its members. This influence, she thought, was not less than the influence of the men, even though women could not vote: First of all, I don’t ever remember a time when the men got together to vote on something that I wished I could join them! It’s a huge responsibility. I havenever envied them. I wouldn’t say that it’s the responsibility I shrink from, but I’m not convinced a whole lot would change if the women voted too. Most of the time when they do vote, it’s something that doesn’t really affect me and how I continue to live my life. I mean, I really don’t care what kind of combines they are buying, what size shop they will be building, or what kind of grain handling system gets put in.  As for other positions that get voted on like we did recently, farm boss, boss, head cook, I doubt the outcome would have been very different had the women voted too. I am quite convinced that most couples would be on the same page. No doubt the man’s vote is influenced directly or indirectly by their wives/daughters/sisters, or whoever it may be. The influence of the female in a male’s life is immeasurable! Whether they like it or not, whether they admit it or not. So then, why change a good thing that’s worked for a couple hundred years?  Where does that leave me you are wondering? It doesn’t bother me that I don’t have a husband that I can directly influence in whichever way I want him to vote. I don’t think I need to do that to be an influence to my community.  I believe in living my life in a manner that is befitting a Christian, that is constructive in community life, and strive towards bettering myself in virtues and morals that are important.  I guess what I’m trying to say is, whatever status I gain in my Community will be up to me. In the end, whoever you are, whatever you do, it’s how you



gender, power and equality257 treat your neighbor or the next person beside you that defines who you really are as a person. Or even tells what your values are, or how strong your beliefs really are.  I think you have to develop the habit of looking at situations, think them over and decide what is best for everybody involved. Not just what is best for me as we are so naturally inclined to do. If I, for example would use my older diene [unmarried woman] status as a way of always getting my way, which I easily could, I think it wouldn’t take long before I would be asking “myself why doesn’t anybody like me”? I think my role as one of the older girls should be more of a leader in ways that I want the younger girls to learn from. Whatever attitude I bring to work with me, they will pick up on and carry it with them. I’m sure it carries over in conversation at home, in school, at work, and the men in their life hear how this person really is. Is that a indirect influence or what? I think it’s a powerful one! My dreams for a driver’s license come and go, I must admit. In my colony females are not allowed to drive vehicles other than utility vehicles. I happen to cross that line the odd time and I hear about it punctually! A female driver is not something that will be accepted around here in the near future. Our minister is set against it. I console myself that he is quite lenient in more ways than one with us that I have to accept that when he does take a stand against something like female drivers. Finding balance you could call it. Or “give and take a little”.5

Another colony member emphasized her ability to influence the children’s characters and personalities by assisting her husband, the German teacher. Among other things, she is regularly with the children in the dining hall and uses that time to teach them values and rules of conduct. We would like to emphasize that the issue of the influence of women of their husbands’ voting, as well as the influence of mothers on their baptized sons’ voting, was mentioned by many people in the colonies. We will discuss this below.  Pathways of Influence Women influence colony life in many ways. First, unlike the men, who perform their work alone or in groups of 2–4 people, the women mostly work together in large groups. Thus, for example, the chores of cooking, cleaning the dining hall, putting up preserves, making jam, noodles and pickles, cutting and storing meat, making soap and working in the vegetable garden are all done by large groups of women. Some activities involve most of the female working force in the colony. The practice of eating 5 Written communication. Similar things were said in oral interviews.

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together in the communal dining hall and going on group trips to town or other colonies in order to help them harvest berries and vegetables, all helps to build camaraderie.6 It is unclear as to whether women’s work is deliberately organized so as to afford them the opportunity for maximum interaction or whether it is purely coincidental, the result of the nature of women’s chores. When we asked in one colony why they don’t have a dishwasher in the otherwise technologically advanced kitchen, the answer was “to enable the women to be together for a long time while washing and drying dishes.” One way or another, the nature of women’s work leads them to spend many hours together, every week, for many years.7 The women use this time to converse among themselves, and discuss issues that concern them, to advance their ideas, and to forge consensus on issues of concern. Decisions that affect only women, such as changing the allocation of days for access to the laundry, are presented with their rationale to the minister’s wife who takes the decision forward until it is implemented. When issues demand decisions by the colony’s leaders or by a general meeting, after they have reached a decision of their own, women will enlist the help of the minister’s wife. The minister’s wife tries to influence her husband to get the decision accepted by the colony’s leaders (the minister, the second minister, the boss, the farm boss and two of the colony’s elders). The leaders (except for the two elders) convene every morning to make decisions concerning the day-to-day running of the colony. In general, the minister’s wife is considered (informally) the senior female figure (especially if she is the oldest woman) because of her closeness to the minister. Below her in the hierarchy come the wife of the boss and then all the older women. The wives of the minister and the boss, because of their age, have many adult children, and thus they can influence not only their husbands, who hold senior positions in the colony, but they can also influence how their baptized children vote in general meetings. Older women have a much greater influence in the colony than their younger counterparts because they have proved themselves over the years. One colony member remarked: 6 Based on observations. 7 Our observations revealed that there is a sub-gathering among the female group in cases where a certain job has to be done by pairs. The pairs are determined then on the basis of an especially close friendship. However, this sub-gathering does not harm the “togetherness” of the whole female group, or at least most of it, for a significant part of the day. As mentioned above, these insights are based on our observations as well as on oral interviews.



gender, power and equality259 Women in the colony always have to prove themselves. The young women still haven’t gathered enough time to prove themselves, even if they have many good ideas. If you have proven yourself for a long time, you acquire a status. The chance that this will happen to older women is high. Time is a very important factor in the colony. I am only four and a half years in the colony. I have to prove myself in the colony. It will take at least ten more years from today.

It is also common that after the women have discussed an issue during work time and have reached a decision, they will approach the minister directly while working in the vegetable garden and try to convince him to accept their decision. “If he is not convinced we raise the matter again in another opportunity. Will he respond? It depends on his character. The minister has the largest power in the colony… We keep trying to raise the issue, make an effort that our demands will be reasonable, and in almost all cases we receive a positive response”. Hostetler, in his research conducted a few decades ago, argued that when it is said a minister is strict, it usually means that he tries to keep women in their place (Hostetler 1974, pp. 270–273). The minister’s daughters are also used sometimes as a channel to the minister for approving decisions that the women have already made. A single woman in her 30s, and the daughter of a minister, emphasized that she has no privileges as the minister’s daughter. She maintains loyalty to her friends and does not transfer any information from the women’s meetings to her father, unless she was asked to serve as a channel for delivering requests to him. When women want to enact their consensual decisions in matters that require a vote by the general meeting (for example, the appointment of the head cook), they attempt to win over the men in their families who are entitled to vote. These are usually husbands, brothers, fathers and baptized sons. One member related: “The fact that we don’t vote, even not for the cook, does not bother me much… I never felt that I want to vote… I can tell who is suitable and who isn’t, I can tell my father or my brothers who they should elect…”. Another woman said with great confidence: “In every matter we undoubtedly have a lot of influence in the colony. We influence our husbands and do not need the formal right to vote.” Women also act in this way to promote their own individual ideas and interests. Obviously, women who have many baptized children or brothers are more likely to gather votes, so not surprisingly older women have more power in the colony, even if their husbands do not have an influential position. A third way in which women influence decisions and draw attention to their requests is a through building a solid reputation as a hard and willing

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worker. They know that their contribution to the colony will enable them to wield greater influence: “The more you are involved in the various jobs, the more you have power and a voice [in colony affairs]. Therefore, it is not important whether you have a right to vote or not”. Naturally, among the women there are those who have leadership qualities. These women are the spokeswomen in front of the minister and the leaders. Two of these women leaders, from different colonies, complained about a hostile attitude from their minister. The ministers’ antagonistic attitudes are understandable; these women challenge the minister in particular and the colony’s leaders in general. One fascinating issue over which the women challenge the ministers, which will not be discussed in detail in this paper, is the preparation (directly or indirectly by giving them reading materials) of young women who are about to get married, regarding the issue of intimate relations after the wedding. The information is then transferred from the women to their future husbands, for there is no one in the male society who is in charge – formally or informally – of preparing the young men for sexual intimacy. Thus these women leaders took it upon themselves to address the issue. In an orthodox society, which prohibits pre-marital sex, it is a most important role that was never given to the women leaders, formally or informally. There is some doubt as to whether the ministers know that these women leaders engage in this, or whether they know but choose to turn a blind eye to it. In recent years, with the growing exposure of the colonies to the outer world, women’s will to influence the life in the colonies has become stronger. A boss in one of the colonies explained the reason for that: In the past, women had less interest in having influence. Today things have changed because of their growing exposure to the outside world and the deep impression that the status of women there makes on the colony’s women. If in Winnipeg [capital city of the Province of Manitoba in Western Canada and the central city for many colonies] a woman can serve as mayor, it has an effect on the will of the women to have influence in the colonies too. Today they are less hesitant… Women are influenced by the progress in the outer world; there is no isolation. In the generation of our grandfathers, there was no temptation to go to the city by cart and horse. Today, getting to the city is easy. The women of the colony are aware of the progress in the outer world… They go to the city frequently and are exposed to everything that happens there, in addition to the comprehensive use of the telephone. They flow in the outer world, where women have a high status. As the world progressed, so did our women. Since they cannot vote, they really influence their husbands to vote the way they want them to. They control their husbands, they are knowledgeable and they don’t give up… As the power of



gender, power and equality261 women in the outer world grows, so does the power of the women in the Hutterite world. They change things; they are more authoritative and influential.

In one recent extreme case, women in some colonies threatened to stop working in the kitchen, and went “on strike” in order to get their way in an important colony matter. It should be emphasized that there is no substitute for the women in the kitchen. Stopping work there, even for one day, means meals are not served, routine is disrupted and the entire colony is paralyzed. In one case the women even left the colony. Education problems in one colony led the women to threaten to withdraw their children from school and appeal to the high institutions of the Hutterite church.  Areas of Female Influence and Potential for Change Hutterite women wield great influence in two crucial areas: the family and the colony domestic operations. Regarding the family, Hostetler found in his studies a few decades ago that the women have an informal role in maintaining the balance between the forces in the colony. For example, mothers have more influence than wives in cases of a struggle of forces between two brothers in the colony. Also, through marriage women combine family dynasties. This causes a broad set of loyalties in the husband’s family, which undermines the exclusivity of the relationship between brothers. The woman is obligated more towards her husband’s family than to her family of origin (although she maintains loyalty to her family, her parents, brothers and sisters), and she always supports her own grown sons. The man tends to maintain a stronger loyalty towards his family of origin than to the family he established. The different loyalties of the husband and wife help prevent the nuclear family from becoming too strong. Every negative emotion that the woman might have towards her husband because of his lack of emotional commitment and support is channeled towards men in general. Hostetler also argued that the loyalty of the woman to other women on the colony weakens the emotional importance of the nuclear family in the same way that the identification of the man with the community in general limits and substitutes his personal identification with his wife and children. When women gather power in internal politics of the colony, it is usually more through close family ties than through interest in the colony itself (Hostetler 1974, 270–273). It should be noted, however,

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that some Hutterite women are highly skeptical about the veracity of such speculation. Women are especially influential in areas where they work, for example in children’s education. They are responsible for raising the children and educating them while they are at home, since their fathers work outside the home most of the day. In kindergarten (ages 2.5 to 3) the child is with caregivers whose role is to teach children obedience and to educate them about nature, play and daily routine. In school, children acquire more formal knowledge. In the German school the teacher is a man, but he may have a female assistant. Also, the German teacher is assisted by a woman (sometimes his wife) while supervising the children in the dining hall. The mother in the Hutterite colony has to ensure that Hutterite values are instilled into children of all ages. When a grown child does not adhere to these values it reflects poorly on his mother who has failed to ensure that Hutterite values were properly taught to her child. Mothers in many colonies stressed the need to invest more in the children’s education and argued that their husbands should spend more time at home for the benefit of the children’s informal education. A fascinating example of the women’s decisiveness concerning issues regarding their children’s education is well illustrated by an incident in a Manitoba colony. A child’s parents were dissatisfied with the German teacher. They complained about him to the minister and accused him of failing to teach the Hutterite religion, verbally abusing the children and of cruelly punishing without just cause. The teacher was nevertheless supported by the minister. A bitter dispute between the teacher and one of the mothers precipitated a crisis, with each side holding steadfast to their opinion. The teacher called for a meeting of the whole colony – men and women – during which he demanded to know if the colony wanted him to continue as the German teacher. At the meeting the men remained silent, but all the women objected to him continuing. It was so resolved. This was an unusual exception to Hutterite governance in that women were the de facto decision makers. However, the women feared that the minister would overrule the resolution, as indeed proved the case. An inquiry by one of the women revealed that the minister’s act was illegal because it contradicted the resolution of the general meeting in which they participated. Therefore, they threatened to take all the children out of school if the German teacher continued in his position. They also threatened to appeal to the higher leadership of the Hutterite church. The women won. The teacher was fired, and the women refused to apologize to the minister because, as they said, they were invited to the meeting to express their



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opinion, and they did. In this case, the voice of the women sounded loud and firm. It seems that in extreme disputes between teachers and students in the English school, the colony’s women tend to initiate an “underground” application to the government department of education or push their husbands to do so. This course of action is not acceptable according to Hutterite rules since everything is supposed to be handled by the minister and the colony’s leaders. Women are influential in the kitchen and the dining hall. In practice, through influencing the vote of the men, the women decide who will be the head cook. Sometimes they also demand that the colony’s leaders supply certain items of equipment for the kitchen. In one colony they threatened to strike if the requested items were not provided. In this way they managed to get their way. Women often complain that the general meeting approves the purchase of agricultural equipment without regard to cost, but refuses to approve the purchase of a sewing machine. The economic operations of the colony generally attract little interest from its female members. It is not area of concern so few are interested in becoming involved either as a group or as individuals. However, some who “think outside the box” are not indifferent. One woman confided: Today we drove [to town with] about ten women together with the German teacher [who is the minister’s son]. I told him I was worried. For eight years the colony’s expenses have been exceeding income, at a time when we should already begin the process of subdividing and building a new colony, for we are very big (about 160 people). Before that we need to rebuild some of our houses because they are very old. All the time the farm boss purchases new equipment that does not justify itself. I told my husband that if the farm boss asks to purchase additional equipment, he should vote against it. There are also very high cell phone bills that the colony has to pay and this is unjustified. Those who have cell phones spend a lot of money… Today I sat in the dining hall with two of my friends that haven’t arrived to work in the garden all summer. They go out to the nearby town (a drive of about an hour and a half) for the whole day for doctor’s visits, errands, purchase of clothes etc. I told them that it was not fair and that they should listen to their conscience. If they must go to town, they should do so in the afternoon, after the working day. I must rebuke them about their misconduct. Beyond that, there is nothing I can do. That’s already their responsibility. They should listen to their conscience.

There are relatively few areas where women are pressing for change. The dream to get a driver’s license is one of the more common ones. One woman noted that in the past, when Hutterites used horses and

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wagons, women drove as did men, and this is still the custom among the Amish. It seems that the wish for a driver’s license expresses not only a desire for equality but also a wish for independence and their frustration with their total dependence on men for transportation. It may be assumed that the custom in the surrounding North American world has a good deal of influence in this regard. Another area in which the interviewees expressed their wish for change was for them to participate in the election of women for the important female jobs: “I would like us women to decide who will stand at the top of the female jobs: the kindergarten and the kitchen”. It seems that this expresses a huge frustration; maybe it is even seen as an insult, in that women are not allowed to directly influence such decisions and are confined to “working behind the scenes.” Another desire for change is expressed in their desire for their husbands to spend more time at home and take a more active role in child-rearing. Many Hutterite women regret that their husbands are “out most of the day”. Another interviewee, who stood out in her wide vision regarding the economic and spiritual future of the Hutterite colonies, argued that terms of service in leading jobs (except for the minister) should be limited, because today it is impossible to dismiss the incumbents who seldom resign even when incapable of performing their functions effectively because of age or health issues. She also emphasized that there is a need for more highly educated ministers who will make changes in their religious practices “so as to better serve today’s needs. We cannot rely on the religious practices or the customs of hundreds years ago and base our faith on that. We have to be more connected to the present and tie things to the present”.  Conclusion The ways that Hutterite women from the conservative section of the Schmiedeleut cope with their social position and life roles is highly complex. The great differences between the colonies within the same leut and within the same group, makes it difficult to generalize. Nevertheless, contrary to common belief, Hutterite women today are an influential factor in the conduct of the colonies, despite inherent gender inequality and a subordinate position that has its roots in the old Hutterite religion and traditions. As in every society, even in the most egalitarian, not every woman wishes to be influential. Despite considerable difficulties, Hutterite women who wish to influence colony affairs can do so. The growing exposure of the colonies to secular North American society,



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where gender equality is espoused as a basic human right, is a highly significant factor in women’s wishes to influence colony affairs, particularly in matters they consider to be in their domain. However, the women do not usually challenge Hutterite principles of religion and tradition (although there are some who do so regarding birth control), but they still wish to have a voice in framing the rules of religion and tradition. One can assume that as the colonies are increasingly exposed to the secular world the women’s desire to change their status will increase, and the areas in which they want to be influential will expand. Today Hutterite women are aided in their ability to overcome their lack of formal input into colony governance and their exclusion from the decision-making process by three factors. Firstly, they spend a great deal of time together in all-female co-operative work on a daily basis. Secondly, their responsibility for all things connected to the family unit, managing the house, raising children and overseeing their education both in the home and at school. In other words, not only their husbands depend on them, but their children. Thirdly, their ability to influence their husbands and baptized brothers who have a vote in colony affairs. The claim, “We tell them how to vote,” is not an idle boast. These three factors enable women, on the one hand, to create a framework for discussion and advance recommendations on matters that concern them. Common interest and female camaraderie enable them to push their agenda effectively when Hutterite theology and tradition are not at issue. This is well illustrated by the rare occasions when Hutterite women have gone on strike to push their agenda. Admittedly, the areas that women wish to influence are limited. Their two main areas of common interest are children’s education and matters pertaining to the kitchen and dining hall. These two areas are considered their territory. It seems that since the women are excluded from typical occupations held by men, they consciously or unconsciously exclude the men from these two areas. In female areas of endeavour, such as in sewing, quilting and crafting, they can demonstrate their skill, and gain honor, status and influence within their peer group and, to a degree, within the wider society of the colony. The extent to which women have influence in the liberal (Group 1) section of the Schmiedeleut was not the subject of this paper. However, based on limited contact we assume that the women’s influence there is even greater because Group 1 colonies are more open to change; they are more open to the secular world and are more accepting of email and the internet. More of these colonies rely more heavily on light industrial

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enterprises and women adopt jobs that are new to the Hutterite world, such as secretary, book keeper, English-school teacher, computer technician and even machine operator. These jobs give greater exposure to the outside secular world and its norms and promise to change the balance of power in the colony. A question that has yet to be answered is that if change comes to the Group 2 conservative Schmiedeleut, what will drive it? The conventional answer would be that increased exposure to the norms of the outside world will drive change. However, we doubt that this alone will engender significant change in women’s occupational roles or their level of empowerment. Hutterites are traditionalists but they will embrace change when it is economically advantageous to do so. Over the centuries their leaders have proved to be adept at balancing the adoption of new agricultural technologies and labour-saving devices against the retention of their traditional way of life. They have managed change well. Today, however, the modern Hutterite colony is a finely-tuned economic operation that has always embraced the most modern agricultural, and latterly, industrial, technology. Colonies no longer function solely within a local economy; they are inextricably linked to the global economy through marketing boards and the like, and must compete in a globalized economic milieu. Colonies have to make efficient use of all their resources: land, capital, and labour, in order to remain economically viable. As colony jobs change and physical strength becomes less important than manual dexterity and intellectual ability, the colonies will place themselves at an economic disadvantage if they fail to use one half of their intellectual capital. Change in gender relationships on the colonies is thus linked to technological change and economic progress. Simple pragmatism may well drive a reappraisal of women’s roles and their social status in the Group 2 colonies. Change seems inevitable, but the question remains as to whether it will it be driven primarily by social or economic factors.

PART FOUR

A CRITICAL TEST: THE TRANSFORMATION OF THE KIBBUTZ

THE RECIPROCAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN FEMINISM AND COMMUNAL LIFE Michal Palgi  Introduction Given that equality and democracy are among the kibbutz’ basic values, the kibbutz experiment elicits solutions, questions and blind points that are fertile ground for the development of feminist theories and practice. Creating a community one of the anchor ideologies of which is equality would seem on the surface to be creating an ideal setting for gender equality. An analysis of the kibbutz way of life shows that the following services were given free to all members: Meals, cooked in the communal kitchen and served in the communal dining room; washing, cleaning and mending of clothes in the communal laundry; and childcare in the children’s houses. Thus, many of the traditional household chores were recognized as legitimate full-time work and not the “natural” extra duty of women. Women and men were economically independent of each other. Almost all women belonged to the work force. Economic rewards were equal to all and were independent of the work entailed in or the prestige of one’s occupation. Women received the same economic rewards as men, and a single parent received the same allowance for the children as a couple. Participation in the governing bodies of the kibbutz was open to all members. The study of the kibbutz model is therefore interesting to those concerned with equality between the sexes. Kibbutz communities tried to implement an ideology of equality by restructuring social institutions. The kibbutz had hopes of a different occupational and social structure, a different organization, and a different gender division of labor aided by its ideology. This ideology did not target gender equality in particular but aimed at equality among people in general. However, much attention has been given to gender equality throughout the history of kibbutz communities, being referred to as “the problem of the woman member” (meaning her inferior status). The structural changes introduced by the kibbutz did not, as anticipated by its founders, resolve the disparity between equality in general and gender equality (Tiger and Shepher, 1975; Spiro, 1979; Palgi et al., 1983; Palgi, 1994, 1997; Adar, 1998).

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Recently, due to ideological, social, and economic changes, the kibbutz communities have decided on far-reaching changes, which are seemingly gender-neutral, but have and will continue to have a significant impact on gender equality and on women’s lives especially. Again, the historical lesson that the gender issue must be considered specifically was not learnt. The following analysis of women’s position needs to take into consideration the historic era in which the kibbutz was created and the stage of development of gender equality theories and awareness in the early 20th century.  The Ideology of Gender Equality and Its Pitfalls A deeper scrutiny of kibbutz ideology and its application might raise some questions today. The first question that the description above raises is whether the general definition of equality that appears in kibbutz ideology is sufficient for gender equality or whether there should be a more in-depth discussion of the term focusing on gender equality as well as on equality with other groups (such as the elderly). The socialist definition of equality adopted by the kibbutz was ‘from each according to his ability to each according to his needs’. This definition was supposed to satisfy a reality of social diversity – but did it? To answer this question I will first analyze this general definition and then look into its pitfalls. This definition has two parts. The first determines that each person will contribute to the kibbutz his/her utmost ability at work and in public activity; the second part states that the kibbutz will provide unconditionally for the needs of each person, no matter what his/her contribution is. This concept, called in the kibbutz terminology “organic equality”, attempted to overcome the weaknesses of the mechanistic equality that advocated equal opportunities to enter all jobs and offices with differential rewards according to one’s achievements. The following pitfalls for gender equality can be found in the kibbutz definition of equality: • In Hebrew the whole definition was stated in its masculine version and not in a gender neutral version and the kibbutz did not try or think it was important to change it. • It opens space for stereotypic pressures on each gender as well as for a-priori gender-based division of labor on the grounds that “women are fit to do some jobs and men others”.



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• The definition also does not specify in what sphere one is supposed to contribute. Is it in the sphere in which the community considers it most important that the person contribute, even if he/she has few skills related to it, or is it in an area in which the specific person considers his/ her qualifications can serve the community best? The second question is whether the general egalitarian ideology was caught in the gender-blindness trap and skipped equality of different sub-groups, such as women or the elderly. In other words, has the kibbutz managed to skip the faultline trap? The notion of faultline refers to hypothetical dividing lines that may split a group into subgroups and give rise to polarization between in-group and out-group identities (Bezrukova, 2009). Faultlines may be activated by a single salient attribute in a specific context, for example, gender when dealing with women’s representation in kibbutz managerial offices. Why are there so few women in central economic positions in the kibbutz and what barriers confront them? The theoretical literature draws attention to some of the obstacles that are placed in the path of women to management positions. The glass ceiling that hampers their attempts to climb the hierarchical ladder and the glass walls that limit their ability to enter specific professions or posts are accorded practical expression in the considerable disparity between men and women in senior and junior management posts alike (Eagly & Fischer, 2010). According to feminist researchers in this field, women’s under-representation in top management is a product of the same gender culture that gives men an advantage by rewarding talents and skills considered male, whereas women attain secondary roles only due to their perceived lack of appropriate management skills (Calas & Smircich, 1992). A similar reality can be seen in the kibbutz communities. As a result of the gender division of labor, women are experienced in education and cooking and therefore have little experience in managing economic enterprises; men work in industry and agriculture where they acquire business experience and connections. In the management context, women are perceived as “other”, “different”, or “not belonging”. This, then, is about not real, objective differences in management skills between the sexes, but symbolic disparities shaped by emotions and cognitive processes (Eriksson-Zetterquist & Styhre, 2007; Liff & Ward, 2001). Women’s relatively scarce activity in the economic sphere can be explained by the effect of gender stereotypes, particularly when these are activated implicitly, without the women cognizance. Being unaware of

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gender structuring in their organizations, women play into the hands of their male colleagues. In view of this “blindness” they have difficulty in exerting their influence and making themselves heard (Meyerson & Kolb, 2000; Townsley, 2003). In sum, the evidence presented above seems to suggest that gender constitutes a subjectively meaningful parameter of social categorization, thereby fostering its salience, which in turn precipitates the activation of faultlines and their influence on role-division and processes within the organization. The study of gender structure and gender-related processes within the kibbutz shows that, although an attempt was made to avoid the faultline, this attempt was not completely successful. On the surface, one could see both the gender division of labor (at work, in management and at home) and its expression in the semantics used for male and female offices.  The Gender Division of Labor and Its Outcomes Three processes that affected gender equality in the kibbutz will be analyzed: 1. The historical rough conditions that kibbutz pioneers faced, as well as their early European socialization, contributed to the perception that it is only natural for women to concentrate on childcare and service work and men on farming and building the community. As the number of members and children grew, the initial division of labor sharpened. Almost all the workers in childcare, the laundry, and the kitchen were women, while most of the agricultural and industrial workers were men. Does this division of labor necessarily lead to inequality between the sexes? The answer is not simple. The ideological declaration of equal opportunities to enter all jobs and offices did exist in the kibbutz, but in practice there was always social pressure on women and men to enter the jobs that were perceived to be the responsibility of their gender. This lead to strong pressure being exerted on women to continue working in the education and service sectors, and the result was a vicious circle that reinforced the gender division of labor. The jobs women occupied used to carry almost the same prestige as any other non-managerial jobs of the same skill level, but the by-products of gender division of labor should not be ignored. It reinforced stereotypic attitudes of the abilities of women, it limited the scope of the occupational aspirations of women and girls, it channeled women



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into specific occupational sectors, and it excluded women from some occupations, frequently those that promised high rewards such as power, prestige, and money. In the mid-1980s, budgetary cuts were implemented as a result of the economic decline and a changing ideological orientation. Accordingly, the following measures were taken: a reduction of the workforce in education and the consumption services by increasing the ratio of children per education worker and by charging money for the services. In addition, education and service centers were opened to a paying public outside the kibbutz, and non-members were allowed to work in education. Up to the 1980s, this practice was not favored and was followed only in special cases. It was assumed that thus women’s workplaces would become centers where they could earn money and that kibbutz women would be free also of the pressure to work inside the kibbutz and able to choose their career. As a result of these processes, women became more vulnerable, because they were perceived by themselves, as well as by others, as having singletrend skills. This perception made them less flexible in their job search and lowered the range of jobs for which they deemed themselves suitable. In addition, their work experience did not enable them to acquire many of the skills that were needed for managerial jobs, either in the kibbutz or outside it. Furthermore, their social networks were usually limited to kibbutz people and they had very few business connections with the surrounding society, a situation that limited both their opportunities to achieve managerial jobs in the kibbutz and their ability, as well as their skills, to find jobs outside the kibbutz. Furthermore, since today most of the kibbutzim evaluate work according to its market instead of its “social” value, the economic as well as the social status of women, specifically the unskilled and the single mothers, was affected. The most prestigious jobs are now in top management or in top earnings, and are usually held by men (Topel, 2011). 2. The family became increasingly important in kibbutz communities, as manifested in the high rate of childbirth and marriage. This change process, which was usually initiated by women (Ben-Rafael & Weitman, 1986) and supported by men, took the form of organizational changes in the kibbutz, that is, the return of some of the chores that women did in their public work to the family framework. This transition included: children sleeping in their parents’ house instead of in the kibbutz collective facilities; serving evening and or morning meals in the private houses and not in the communal dining hall; the responsibility for washing and ironing passing from the community to the

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family. It is maintained that by this process some women will be freed from their present jobs and mobilized to enter money-earning occupations.  Did the growing importance of the family lead to inequality? Studies dealing with the division of labor within the family household before the children moved to sleep in their parents’ houses found that there was little gender division of labor. Later studies found that women’s time spent on household chores has increased, but so also has men’s. Paradoxically it seems that, when the kibbutz was more collective in character, women were freer from household chores but bound in their job options by collective needs. Now that the kibbutz is more individualistic, women are free to pursue their own careers but are bound by family duties. Their freedom does not now depend on the kibbutz but on the relationship and role division with their spouses. 3. The effect of spatial mismatch on gender work opportunities (Palgi, 2006): As a result of the organizational, social and value changes in the kibbutz, women have to cope with outside market norms when looking for an alternative job after their kibbutz workplace has been closed. Since most of the kibbutzim are situated in rural regions at the periphery of the country far from urban centers, the link between employment and commuting in shaping women’s employment is of utmost importance. Many young women therefore limit their employment search to areas close to their residential location in order to minimize conflicts between parenting, household, and employment responsibilities. This constraint minimizes their options with regard to suitable jobs as they live far from employment centers, and they face the choice of accepting low returns for their job or refraining completely from participation in the labor market. Those women who decide to work far from home often realize that their economic returns and the long hours of commuting do not justify the long journeys to reach their place of work and the cost to their private life. The spatial mismatch has a differential effect on work opportunities for men and women in the changing kibbutz. The status gaps between men and women and between women and women are increasing. For some of the women, the changes provide new occupational opportunities while for others few jobs are available. The reaction of the latter is to cease searching for challenging jobs and withdraw into their own homes. The negative impact of the changes is felt mainly by women who are single heads of families, single mothers, and middle aged



the reciprocal relationship275 women who had a career within the kibbutz for which there is no demand in the general market. A few lucky women were able to keep well-paying jobs within the kibbutz.  Failure to Avoid the Faultline Trap

The first kibbutz communities to introduce differential salaries rationalized the move by saying that this was the only way to motivate people to invest more effort in their work and thus help the kibbutz to extricate itself from the economic crisis. They also decided to be flexible about the principle of rotation and enable successful managers of economic units in the kibbutz to remain in their post for many years, thus consolidating an almost permanent male elite (Topel, 2011). Until this change, each plant manager had been elected for a period not exceeding five years, and other office holders for two to three years. This mechanism was designed to avoid the formation of powerful economic elite. When the economic crisis started, there were suggestions that one reason for this failure was the too frequent rotation of managers. Another step taken in the name of the economic crisis was to limit decision-making through direct democracy. Thus it was ruled that decisions would be made by small groups of experts and that a council of elected members would replace the kibbutz general assembly. Even though committees of experts had been active also in the past, the change was in giving them decision-making power and not advisory power alone. The pretext for this was that the average kibbutz member could no longer understand the complicated technology and economy of the modern kibbutz. In addition, it was asserted that part of the failures of the kibbutz was a result of the unprofessional decision-making processes. These processes have often affected gender equality by limiting the possibilities of people in non-managerial and non-economic positions (mostly women) to assume managerial positions and to participate in economic decisionmaking. Recent studies (Palgi and Orchan, 2011) indicate that the economic crisis has produced more gender inequality, but also more inequality among women themselves. When gender inequality increases, within-gender inequalities also increase. In kibbutzim that link the size of one’s salary to the proportion of the kibbutz budget one gets for personal use, there is a growing gender budget gap as well as widening differences among women. Often women who have given up promising careers to respond to the needs of the kibbutz find themselves in the low

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wage bracket. At the same time, young women or women who were not prepared to forfeit their own vocational aspirations in favor of kibbutz needs are in a much higher budget bracket (Lieblich, 2000). Still, the relief of kibbutz women from the binding duty to work in education or the services has opened new opportunities for them. Some choose to work in the traditional occupations, but others (a few) enter non-traditional careers. Again, a paradoxical situation occurred. When the kibbutz was more collective, democratic, and egalitarian, women were restricted in the choice of their profession. Once the kibbutz became more individualistic, less egalitarian, and less democratic, women became freer in their choice. The reason for this may be the bonding between women as a group and their collective responsibility for the smooth running of education and the services; the withdrawal of any woman from this responsibility was a breach of an unwritten contract. The dilemma that faced the few who decided or wanted to diverge from the kibbutz expectations was whether they should give up the freedom to choose their desired career in order to ease the burden on their sister women. Luckily, with the legitimization of introducing paid labor into education this dilemma was resolved, although for some women it was too late. The new organization of work shows buds of development represented by women entrepreneurs and women who enter unconventional professions. In addition, opening the education and the consumption services to the market outside the kibbutz makes their jobs in the kibbutz more profitable. However, until recently it was relatively easy for a woman or a man to change their work place without the fear of jeopardizing the economic stability of their family, while now, when the financial situation at home depends more on one’s earnings than on the kibbutz econo­ mic  situation and when women’s workplaces earn money, it is more complicated. The analysis of women in the kibbutz shows that they faced the task of removing the gender blinds, and breaking through both the glass ceiling and the glass walls in order to pursue their career. They attempted to do so through personal endeavors as well as through activity in the national kibbutz movements. Leading women approached the kibbutz movements in order to establish within their framework departments devoted to the promotion of gender equality. The request was met with surprise and opposition. It was believed among the kibbutz leadership that the kibbutz was well advanced on issues of gender equality and did not need special



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departments for this purpose (Palgi, 2003). Nevertheless, in 1980–82, the two largest kibbutz movements decided to establish departments devoted to the promotion of gender equality. The decision was consolidated and put into practice as a result of social activism of female kibbutz members at the grass-roots level, and after prolonged debates. The strategy of the “equality departments” was set in motion at three transitional levels: the individual, the kibbutz, and the kibbutz movements. Workshops were set up for consciousness-raising and assertiveness. For the kibbutz communities, monthly lectures and symposia on gender equality were proposed, written material was prepared, and videos were produced. To initiate change from the top down, efforts were made to supply information to various departments of the kibbutz movement concerning expressions of gender inequality in kibbutz life, and proposals were made to correct the distortions. The “equality departments” organized a group of women who conducted a fierce struggle to increase the percentage of women among those who worked in senior positions and had central duties in the kibbutz communities and in the kibbutz movements. The “equality departments” expressed vigorous opposition to the “double messages”, and personally supported women who wanted to pursue non-traditional occupations. A scholarship fund was established for women studying management. The political mission was to introduce women qualified for community and political positions, even those not inclined to adopt feminist views (Fogiel-Bijaoui, 2011). The “equality departments” wanted to change the popular perception of the early years of the kibbutz movement that defined gender equality as the inclusion of women in all-male occupations and tasks. It advocated the interchange of women as well as men among occupations traditionally defined as appropriate to one sex or the other. On this ideological basis, the departments recommended the inclusion of men in the education of young children (Palgi, 1997). Even though this approach removed the barrier preventing the entry of males into caregiver tasks it was not fast enough and never succeeded in providing a profession or steady work for men. The economic crisis, which continued into the 1990s, brought about cutbacks and structural changes in the kibbutz movements; among the first departments affected by the cutbacks were those devoted to gender equality. It is no longer a department within the kibbutz movement but only a unit, and in the last five years, due to additional cuts, it is run by one woman who works part time – its future is unknown.

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 Lessons from the Attempts to Get Out of the Faultline Trap Throughout the history of the kibbutz there were a few women who were aware of and gave voice to the faultline trap. The analysis of women’s position in the kibbutz and the dilemma they faced between following their hearts’ desire in choosing a career or “betraying” the kibbutz expectations of them might give a partial explanation of their support of the changes in the kibbutz that reduced the equality between members. Since they have conflicting effects, the ultimate results of these change processes with respect to women’s status are not clear. The positive effects – the opening up of the outside job market to the kibbutz – expands the variety of women’s occupations and allows them to penetrate new occupations and achieve more in the professional and economic fields; these achievements often improve their socio-economic status. However, it is to be remembered that this trend also exposes women to the social discrimination that exists in Israeli society. It is almost self-evident that when the kibbutz loses its unique characteristics, women lose the advantages that the old kibbutz bestowed upon them: economic equality, equivalent social security, and legal equality. The status of women in the kibbutz will approximate the status of women in Israeli society, with its advantages and its drawbacks. The kibbutz communities do put buffers in place against the downfall of the less privileged by safeguarding a minimal standard of living below which they cannot fall, but they find it difficult to limit the economic and social gaps between the more and the less privileged. An important lesson for communal societies from this analysis is that, even in egalitarian communities, the gender faultline cannot be avoided if not given special attention, especially in a period of economic crisis, when most extreme organizational and social changes are decided upon. Thus, it was shown that in the kibbutz both the glass ceiling and the glass walls exist and breaking through them is difficult and requires determination and a change in attitude and ideology. The failure to include gender equality among the factors related to the community’s survival, and the concentration on only economic factors, can intensify the gender divide in communal communities. In order to maintain gender equality in the 21st century it needs to be seen as an existential matter and not merely as another way of attaining social approval. Another insight from the analysis of kibbutz communities is that there is interplay of national and local occurrences, and its impact on the lives of women in the kibbutz is much greater than on the lives of men. That is, change processes can occur as a response to some macro crisis, social,



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economic, political, etc., often in combination with local ideological or generational changes. These changes reflect a transition from a participative system to a system where market and hierarchy relations prevail and can affect women’s occupational and social status in the kibbutz. Combatting the repercussions of these changes so that their effect on gender relationships, the type of equality practiced, and its perseverance is a major challenge facing the communal idea. Thus, all the achievements of gender equality in the kibbutz, such as enabling all women to belong to the kibbutz workforce, equalizing the personal economic situation of women and men, as well as the socio-economic situation of a single female parent to that of a single male parent, and protecting kibbutz members from the threat of poverty, are now in jeopardy. Therefore, the gender issues should be clearly discussed and not swept under the economic crisis carpet. Without a concrete gender plan that will study, analyze and decide on activities for maintaining the achievements of the communal life and improving them in the process of change, a stagnation course might start. Such an action plan can start with gender analysis that reveals the factors that contribute to the integration of women in the newly developed kibbutz work system and those that obstruct it. Paradoxically, the kibbutz, because of its egalitarian ideology, was partially gender blind and made only superficial attempts at gender analysis. Its attempts to understand the relationships between men and women, their access to resources, their activities, and the constraints they face relative to each other resulted in action plans that were met by movements’ decisions but did not have an echo in the kibbutz communities and thus did not change the status quo. An in depth gender analysis in communal societies can help indicate: who has access; who has control; who is likely to benefit from the changes, and who is likely to lose; what is the potential of direct or indirect benefit for women and men from a development initiative; and what are the challenges and costs of maintaining the existing gender division of labor. It is possible that, at the present time, when there is more awareness of and openness to the shortcomings of the communal praxis concerning gender issues, such an analysis will be followed in the future by substantial action. A final insight from the processes in the kibbutz society is that there is a danger to the effectiveness of women’s organizations when they are embedded in the mainstream male-controlled organizations because there again they might fall into the faultline trap.

KIBBUTZ EDUCATION: CHARACTERISTICS, CHANGES, AND FUTURE RELEVANCE Maria Fölling-Albers  Introduction ‘Traditional’ kibbutz education was a synthesis of ideological elements of the kibbutz movement (particularly socialist Zionism, i.e. the colonization and foundation of settlements in Palestine by socialist working collectives), the poor economic and social conditions in the country at the beginning of the 20th century, and new ideas in psychology and pedagogy, particularly the New Education movement, which were regarded as very progressive at that time. The first settlers in Palestine were young unmarried pioneers, who had emigrated mainly from Eastern Europe. When the first children were born and growing up, an educational concept had not yet been developed. In fact, it was only after two or three decades that a concept for education was formed based on different ideological orientations present during the several waves of Jewish immigration (alijoth) to Palestine, as well as on different influences from European and American educational and psychological theories. Dror (2001) therefore describes kibbutz education as a practice to which a theory was later applied (‘Practice into Theory’). The theoretical framework of kibbutz education (from the 1940s on) can therefore be viewed as a theoretical legitimization of the practice which had already been realized (see Liegle 1971; FöllingAlbers 1977, 1980). The kibbutz education, which can be viewed (particularly from the outside) as a ‘large-scale pedagogical field experiment’, is characterized by four main features: collective education (in particular the collective sleeping arrangements), a relatively independent child and youth culture, a school system strongly influenced by the New Education movement, and education for work as ‘moral education’. Although the initial pedagogical concepts in all four of these areas have undergone considerable changes, have diminished or even been abandoned completely during the last four decades, important humanistic values of kibbutz education can still be found. It can even be said that these humanistic values and, to say the least, the renunciation of previous rather ideological characteristics have made kibbutz education – or better said ‘education

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in the kibbutz’ – particularly attractive to parents from cities and neighboring villages as well. Which elements of kibbutz education have been retained over the course of so many decades and still receive so much attention? Which elements of kibbutz education are relevant beyond the kibbutz and will not only maintain their significance in the future, but will possibly become even more important? Which findings, after nearly 100 years of kibbutz education, the most well-researched educational system worldwide, are significant for educational theory and practice? This article will first describe the conditions, characteristics and changes in the four fields of kibbutz education mentioned above (section 1, this page). Following this, the relevant findings on kibbutz education which are significant beyond the kibbutz for educational theory and practice will be examined (section 2, p. 290).  Kibbutz Education – Characteristics and Changes The general aim of kibbutz education was to create a ‘New Man’. One of the leading kibbutz-pedagogues, Mordechai Segal, described this aim as follows: ‘We have conducted our education in line with our kibbutz aims: first of all, to raise a kibbutz type of man, who will be – as the result of his education – fit to go on with kibbutz life.’ (1965, p. 3) The entire educational system was built around achieving this goal. The ‘kibbutz type of man’, a ‘homo kibbutznikus’, was expected to naturally absorb the values of the egalitarian society from birth onwards and to pass them on, so that the kibbutz could continue to exist in its current form. Education was supposed to play an important role. Segal wrote: ‘We intend to remain, and we find the key to that aspiration in education – which has been and still is the central thought for the kibbutz.’ (Ibid, p. 4) To ensure success in passing on the kibbutz values, the pioneers established a comprehensive educational and socialization system, where the responsibility for education and children’s development rested on the collective (community) and its educators, not on the parents.  Collective Sleeping Arrangements The most prominent characteristic of kibbutz education is the principle of ‘multiple mothering’ and the collective sleeping arrangements in



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children’s homes: For many decades, the children in most kibbutzim did not live and sleep in their parents’ homes (initially tents or wooden huts, later small apartments), but in children’s homes. Special ‘house mothers’ (metaplot) were responsible for the upbringing of the children. The children thus had ‘two emotional centers’, as Lewin (1965, p. 71) emphasizes, ‘one is made up of the mother and the family; the other includes the metapelet and the group’ (ibid.) – each with different roles: The family was responsible for the emotional wellbeing of their children: taking them for walks, playing with them, being there for them emotionally etc. On the one hand, the children’s home with the metapelet (‘Hausmutter’) at the helm, oversaw important educational and social training such as toilet training, table manners, social education, putting the children to bed in the evening, etc. – thus, tasks which often cause conflict. In the afternoon, the children spent a few hours with their parents. Parents had no shortage of time for their children then, because most of the typical ‘house work’, like preparing meals, doing laundry etc., was done by the collective. Their place of work was usually in the kibbutzim, so commuting wasn’t necessary. The collective sleeping arrangements were introduced in the 1920s by the pioneers of the second immigration wave (1904–1914), whose collective ideology was particularly strong. However, even after the economical conditions of the settlers had improved, and parents no longer lived in tents or huts, the collective sleeping arrangements were not abolished. In fact, a theoretical justification for this educational practice was established from the 1940s on, mainly by Shmuel Golan, but partly also by other educational theorists and leaders. It recognized a synthesis of elements of Marxist social theory and psychoanalysis: psychoneurotic disorders in the next generation could be prevented by the establishment of a socialist society and the reduction of the contact between parents and their children (see Golan 1948, 1959; Golan & Lavi 1954, Gerson 1954; Liegle 1971; Fölling-Albers 1977; Fölling-Albers & Fölling 2000; Liban & Goldman 2000; Dror 2001). In addition, the humanistic principle of equality was to be realized as comprehensively as possible with the collective educational system: No child should be favored or disadvantaged. Every child should have the same opportunity to develop his or her abilities. Different backgrounds should not influence the nurture and development of a child. The children’s homes also provided ample opportunity to practice the principles of New Education (see Konrad 1999). In the first decades, collective education was practiced rather rigidly. Parents were only allowed to see their children during set afternoon hours.

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This rigid practice, however, was already partly abandoned in the 1950s in favor of an opening up of the houses to the parents, after some studies on kibbutz toddlers and preschoolers reported problematic behavior, such as temper tantrums, aggression, bed wetting, thumb sucking, etc. It was assumed that this behavior stemmed from collective education (see Irvine 1952; Caplan 1954; Faigin 1958). Even though representatives of kibbutz education criticized the results of Caplan’s and Irvine’s studies due to their limited knowledge of kibbutz education and the small data pool used in their research, the kibbutzim were quick to react to the criticism. Parents were thereupon allowed to put their children to bed in the evening and to visit them during the day, whenever they had the opportunity. A ‘love hour’ was introduced for infants and toddlers – an additional hour for mother and child at midday. In his report, however, Caplan (1954) also emphasizes that the problems they found in toddlers and preschool aged children disappeared as the children grew older: ‘… when they get above that age, the incidence of signs of disturbance falls, and it falls more and more rapidly as the children approach adolescence.’ (Caplan 1954, p. 99) In the late 1950s, the kibbutzim started their own research into the mental health and deviant behavior of kibbutz children and adolescents. By the 1950s, the parents had increasingly begun to criticize not only the rigid opening hours of the children’s homes, but also the collective housing system in general. The first tendencies towards letting the children sleep at home became apparent. This process accelerated in the 1960s and 1970s and was just about completed in the 1980s (see Dar 1995, p. 237). More recent studies showing that children who slept in the children’s homes were often less secure in their relationship to their parents than children who slept in their parents’ house accelerated the abolition of collective sleeping arrangements (see synopsis of Aviezer, van Ijzendoorn, Sagi & Schuengel 1994; Aviezer & Sagi 1999). The end finally came during the Gulf War in 1991, when Iraq fired missiles at Israel. Today the children’s homes only serve as day care centers for infants, toddlers and preschoolers. For younger school children, informal education is offered in the afternoon in many kibbutzim (see section. 1.2). They are no longer the ‘homes’ for the children that they once were. The opening of the children’s homes, particularly the transition from collective to family sleeping arrangements, has also changed the role of the women considerably. They have increasingly taken on the ‘typical women’s duties’ in the children’s and also in the family home.



kibbutz education285  Independent Child and Youth Culture

Collective education in the children’s houses was supported and realized by a comprehensive system of interrelated educational and socialization authorities, which built on each other: the metapelet and the peer-group. In addition to this, the preschoolers had the preschool teacher and the school age children had the teacher and the group leader. In the afternoon, the parents were expected to fulfil the role assigned to them in the collective upbringing of their children. This comprehensive education and support system which left very little room for freedom, thus preventing unwanted influences from outside, was to safeguard the education of the future kibbutznik. The sociologist Dar, a kibbutz member himself, described this educational and socialization concept as ‘functional totality’ (1995, p. 227). It is the organizational structure that is effective, rather than the ideological contents and should influence the character and role of a kibbutznik. This notion of a suffocating lifestyle was backed up by the kibbutz members who were interviewed by Liegle and Bergmann at the end of the 1980s; one said: ‘The notion of the kibbutz being a close society () is quite real’ (Liegle & Bergmann 1994, p. 134). The control of the peers particularly effected conformity. The educating influence of the peer group increased with age. Outsiders often had little chance of improving their position in the group. The children stayed in the same group from birth to the end of school (18 years). Because of this, the group was a stable frame of reference and sibling-like relations between the peers developed. Dar (1995, p. 227) characterized this kind of relationship as ‘symmetrical semi-sibling relations’. Therefore it is not surprising that there were no marriages or partnerships between members of these peer-groups (see Shepher 1971). In youth circles, Alon (1973) distinguished between an educational group, i.e. a school class, and the youth society, which was made up of different school classes from one kibbutz or several kibbutzim. The objective was to establish a specific youth culture for the older children and youth, in line with the model of an ‘ideal kibbutz’: The youngsters were to form a relatively independent community, a copy of the adult commune. The youth society, with its youth leader, was responsible for all group activities (leisure, sports, festivities, trips, etc.), but also for ideological education. They met regularly in general meetings to discuss problems such as conflicts in the community, discipline and motivation for studying. More complex projects were also discussed here, such as social and

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literary projects, or projects supporting socially/culturally disadvantaged children in the cities (see Fölling-Albers & Fölling 2000, p. 167). In the more left-winged kibbutz movement (Kibbutz Artzi), several neighboring settlements established boarding schools (mosadot), which were similar to European ‘Landerziehungsheime’. They represented the ideal of a kibbutz community ‘in miniature form’. The youth society enjoyed a rich cultural and social life. Teachers were also educators (alongside the youth leader) and spent a lot of time with the students outside of lessons. The teaching of the ideological convictions of socialist Zionism, moral values, humanistic consciousness, personal responsibility, and a positive attitude towards work were given equal standing alongside the teaching of academic knowledge. Up until the 1980s, a children’s society in an elementary school consisted of about 50 to 60 children; in the regional high schools and in the boarding schools the youth society was made up of about 150 to 200 pupils. From the 1960/1970s on, more attention was paid to the individual and the ideological formula and norms lost their power because the ideology was no longer compatible with reality (see Alon 1973, p. 128; Dar 1999, pp. 146–147). Following the changes in the role of the children’s homes and the mosadot, more privacy can be enjoyed – the young people spend more of their free time in their parents’ home. During the time of transition, many communities had difficulty defining the new roles of the parents, who were now largely responsi­ ble for raising and caring for their children, and the adults who were in charge for the children in the afternoon. Liebermann (1999, p. 102) emphasized that informal education, previously the duty of the teachers, now involved the whole community – if the community is willing to take on this task  and does not leave it up to the parents. At present the kibbutzim are   developing new concepts for informal education, which, on the one  hand, should support the individual development of the children (e.g. relaxation, sports, creative education), but should, on the other hand, satisfy the changes demanded of the kibbutzim in communal education.  School System and Lessons As with the collective sleeping arrangements, the concept for schooling and teaching also developed from the experiences of teachers. Distinctive kibbutz schools really took shape from the 1930s onwards and retained their form until the end of the 1960s (see Porat 1991). Although the



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different kibbutz associations each developed their own concepts, they were in accordance with the most fundamental aspects. There were and still are two school levels: The elementary school covers grades 1 to 6; the secondary school grades 7 to 12. For many decades, however, the first and sometimes also the second graders remained in the preschool, where the preschool school teacher taught the basics in reading, writing and math (see Fölling-Albers 1987.) Every kibbutz had its own school, as long as there were enough pupils. If not, several neighboring kibbutzim established a regional school. Kibbutz Artzi created the aforementioned boarding schools (mosadot). Their students only came home to their kibbutzim (and parents) on the weekend and on their days of work in the kibbutz (see section 1.4). The pedagogue Lavi pointed out that the mosad was ‘without a doubt a unique pedagogical creation.’ (1992, p. 193) Even though the pedagogic concepts practiced in the mosad were not all specifically born of the kibbutz ‘… the was a revolutionary innovation, unique in Israel and in the world.’ (Ibid) The pedagogical and cultural concepts in kibbutz schools were influenced by different trends in the New Education movement, which emerged at the beginning of the 20th century in Europe and in the United States. Depending on the different ideological orientations of the kibbutz movements, the settlements were either more influenced by ideas of communal education and a wide-ranging school culture (Bernfeld, Wyneken, Geheeb), or instead by concepts more concerned with methods of teaching and learning such as the project method (Dewey und Kilpatrick), open learning (Petersen), and to ideas of the ‘Arbeitsschule’ (Kerschensteiner). The kibbutz school was and is characterized by the following additional features: Coeducational learning, a radical innovation at the beginning of the last century, was a basic principle of education from the beginning. All students stay together until the end of schooling (after 12th grade). There is no selection process and there are no marks. Children with learning disabilities receive additional lessons and help. In the 1960s, however, kibbutzim set up some special schools for students with very strong emotional disorders (see Boyn 1984). There was no separation based on abilities. Students who wanted to take matriculation exams stayed at school for one additional year to prepare for and then sit the exams, which are standardized in Israel.

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The curriculum was oriented around selected projects, which aimed to, as much as possible, create a linkage between living and learning. In the 12th grade, all students had to write a thesis. The teachers were kibbutz members, since they were expected to carry out social and educational work alongside teaching, as part of the aim of ‘education for life’ in the kibbutz. The members did not believe that teachers from outside could to be entrusted with this ideological job. The kibbutzim set up their own teacher training seminars to guarantee the pedagogical and ideological orientation that was expected. In summary, it can be said that the kibbutzim established an alternative system of schooling as the standard school for all children in the community – and not, as is the case in societies outside the kibbutz, for only very few students whose parents can afford to pay for those institutions, which are usually privately run. But not all members agreed with this school concept. Liebermann described education until the end of the 1960s as an ideological phase, in which ‘its dogmatism, the indoctrination it practiced and the social pressures exerted in the schools of that time’ were often criticized sharply (Liebermann 1999, pp. 97–98). From the 1970s on, schooling underwent several extensive changes. A major influence was the demand of the parents that their children should take the matriculation exams after the 12th grade – and not after an additional year. Parents could no longer be certain that their children would remain in the kibbutz as adults. Therefore they wanted them to get the best educational qualifications and an optimal preparation for studying at university. As a consequence, the schools dispensed with essential New Education elements and adapted more and more to the curriculum of the State. Many schools could not afford to set up new rooms for the different subjects (like biology, physics etc.), and to buy the necessary school equipment. Therefore nearly all kibbutzim established regional elementary schools and high schools. The teachers were increasingly specialist teachers rather than general educators, especially since they were no longer teaching just students from their own settlement. The educational values of the kibbutz and the scholastic aims became incongruent (see Avrahami 1999). This development intensified, as not enough young kibbutz members were willing to become teachers, especially from the 1970s on all of those growing up in the kibbutz were allowed to determine their course of study themselves, instead of having to meet the demands of the kibbutz. Thus teachers from outside, not only kibbutz members, worked in kibbutz



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schools – the ideological orientation of kibbutz education diminished further. The change to family sleeping arrangements intensified that trend. The kibbutz school has changed from a home environment to a professional school, which is only responsible for scholastic content (see Liebermann 1999). In addition to these trends, since the 1980s kibbutz schools increasingly educate students from neighboring settlements (moshavim) and towns – these students have to pay school fees. According to Liebermann (1999) kibbutz schools still practice the ideal of equality – this means that every child is educated according to his abilities. He summarizes the changes in school aims as follows: ‘control moved from the kibbutz movement to the individual kibbutz and from there to the school’s professional staff. In the realm of content, emphasis shifted from educating to the kibbutz ideal, through education for life in the community, to education for its own sake, with universal values’; and further: ‘the school continues to take in the children of neighboring settlements, emphasizing the ideas of democracy, equality, human worth and Zionism.’ (1999, S. 104)1 But according to Dar (1995), since the aforementioned changes took place, kibbutz education has more to do with equity than with equality. For schools today, there is considerable convergence between Israel State schools and kibbutz schools. State schools were also given more autonomy; they are more community-oriented, and are more open to pedagogical experiments – including the project method. More attention is paid to the student as an individual (see Liebermann 1999).  Education for Work From the beginning, education for work has been a special characteristic of kibbutz education. The ideology of the socialist Zionist pioneers emphasized ‘work at the top of its scale of values.’ (Bar-Lev & Dror 1995, p. 261) And further on it is said: ‘Work was perceived as a symbol, as a foundation stone and as an essential condition for a high quality of life for the individual within the environment.’ (Ibid) The most important

1 During their study trip in April 2011 to a regional kibbutz high school (Shaar Hanegev), the author, her colleagues and students from the University of Regensburg caught a glimpse of the conviction and consistence with which those humanistic values are implemented. Young people from settlements and neighbouring towns also attend this high school. The study group had detailed discussions with the headmaster, teachers, and students.

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principle of the kibbutz movement was: Everybody should work according to his abilities, so that everyone’s needs would be met. Because kibbutzim always defined themselves as a working community – education for work was increasingly developed as a specific non-utilitarian characteristic. Education for work was always governed by the ideological and ethical concerns of the pioneers, even though the help and assistance of the young people was required in practical areas during the first decades, for example, at harvest time. Education for work already began in early childhood. Many kibbutzim set up ‘children’s farms’, with a lot of different animals, often also small gardens and orchards. Elementary school-aged children regularly worked (with the help of an instructor) on the farm. On Fridays they were encouraged to help clean their houses as well as the lawns in front of them (see Dror 2004). From high school age upwards, the students worked at different work places in the kibbutz – at first only a few hours per week, later one day per week. They were not only helping, but also experiencing the kibbutz as a working community and recognising work as a necessary part of life. By doing so, they were to become familiar with working independently, initially on a physical basis. But they were also to get to know their future work place. Even though education for work was seen as something indispensable and positive because of its educational aims, there were still some critics. The work of the children on the ‘children’s farm’ was seen as child labor. The emphasis placed on physical work was also criticized because the working world was becoming more and more technically demanding (see Lavi 1990). In later years, projects adapted to new economical and technical developments were set up, e.g. the green house project: a computer-aided market garden, in which the students (with the support of experts) wrote computer programs for irrigating and fertilizing the plants (see Bar-Lev & Dror 1995; Dror 1995, 2001).  Relevance of Kibbutz Education Since the beginning of the 1990s, kibbutz education in its original form no longer exists. We find instead only education in a kibbutz – with children from both inside and outside the kibbutz, who are educated and cared for in kibbutz day care centers, preschools or schools.



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In the following section, I will examine the question of which aspects of kibbutz education from the past will still play a role in the future. This question will be answered in three steps. In the first section (this page) I will explain to what extent unique features of kibbutz education have influenced the educational system in Israel and are therefore relevant for the future. To this end, I will refer to comments made by 11 Israeli kibbutz experts, who were interviewed by Werner Fölling and myself in 2004. The interviewees were between 50 and 90 years old, and all but one of them were kibbutz members. The non-member was however well acquainted with kibbutz education and education in Israel in general. In the second section (p. 294) the relevance of kibbutz education will be discussed in a more general educational context: kibbutz education as a ‘large-scale educational field experiment’ and a ‘laboratory for educational research’. In the final section (p. 297), I will briefly summarize the most important educational points.  Some Achievements of Kibbutz Education When talking about kibbutz education, we are usually referring to the concept of collective education practices of the 1960s that has been described above. But that was neither the kibbutz education of the founding period nor how it works today. Kibbutz education has undergone changes and adapted to changing conditions and to the surrounding environment. The changes described above should therefore not simply be characterized as deviations from the original concept – even though different pioneers of kibbutz education saw it that way, including one of our inter­ viewees. She thought the changeover to the family sleeping arrangements was wrong and unnecessary. In her opinion, the breakdown of the collective system was the result of a lack of ideological maturity in too many members. The concept did not fail, the fault lay with these members who were unable to recognize and realize its quality. ‘Members were not yet mature enough,’ she said. In response to this, one of the members said, somewhat ironically and with a smile: ‘The kibbutz was not created for normal people. When the members started acting normal, it was no longer a kibbutz.’ Other interviewees, mainly the older ones, also affirmed collective education, but admitted that it was not sustainable due to the changes in the settlements and in Israel. One member said: ‘We were convinced we had the best educational system in the world.’ But for these members, kibbutz

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education was not seen as an end in itself. According to a great majority of the interviewees, the educational system too had to adapt to changes in society and to the respective needs of the parents. When the comments made by the interviewees are viewed against the background of the educational ideology that has been described, the contradictory nature of kibbutz education becomes apparent. On the one hand, the changes in the educational practice were seen as (and were) deviations from the established concept that existed until the 1960ies. On the other hand, one can argue that rigid adherence to an existing system that is no longer accepted would not be in keeping with the basic nature of the kibbutz, that is, the desire to be an alternative and revolutionary community. It would be seen as conservative to hold on to the given conditions, even though these conditions are seen to be revolutionary (see Sarell 1960, 1971 on the dualism of preservation and renewal in the kibbutz). In light of this, the sacrifice of the collective sleeping arrangements, which was welcomed by the majority of all kibbutz members (not only by our interviewees), can be seen as a proof of how open-minded and liberal the kibbutz movement is. Moreover, it can even be said that the developments and changes in the last decades – and, at the same time, a diminishing of its ideological components – have brought success in the long run. This success can be seen, among other aspects, in the positive influence of the kibbutz on education in Israel in general. The majority of our interviewees agreed that the more open-minded kibbutzim contributed considerably to the general improvement of the educational system in Israel. The training of carers and preschool teachers has improved; the educational standards (personnel, curriculum, etc.) in the day care centers and preschools in the kibbutzim have generally increased and they are regarded as the best in Israel. Nowadays the training of carers and preschool teachers and the carer-child relationship in the kibbutzim are viewed as exemplary. The buildings, the equipment, and the environment of the children’s houses are very child-friendly. A lot of preschool teachers and school teachers who do not live or work in kibbutz institutions, trained at kibbutz teachers colleges. It is because of these standards that places in the day care centers and preschools are very attractive to parents in the neighboring settlements, who can afford to pay for it (because of the better conditions, these are more expensive than a regular day care center or preschool). This intake is an important source of income for many kibbutzim.



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This very positive assessment of the preschool education at present is particularly remarkable, because it was precisely this kind of education that was criticized sharply by researchers outside the kibbutz in the 1940s and 1950s (see Irvine 1952; Caplan 1954). Only after introducing changes did kibbutz education become more attractive – to teachers and to pedagogically ambitious parents from outside the kibbutz. Kibbutz schools have also undergone change. The introduction of regional schools and of matriculation exams after the 12th grade have lead, on the one hand, more or less to an adaption of the State curriculum, as well as to an extensive reduction of New Education ideas, e.g. the curriculum no longer revolves around the living environment of the pupils, there is less project work; marks have been introduced (but there is no repeating of grades). But on the other hand, these changes offered those growing up more opportunity to choose between life in the kibbutz or outside after they had finished schooling and army service. Prior to that, the kibbutz youth were more or less resigned to staying in the kibbutz, which was, after all, the main aim of kibbutz education in the first place, as has been mentioned before. It is precisely this voluntary basis of membership, a conscious decision to embrace the kibbutz lifestyle after applying for membership that characterizes the social ideology of the kibbutz. The kibbutz members we interviewed highlighted the increasing obligation of kibbutz schools to provide social and moral education and that aspects of New Education are still visible: the relationship between teachers and students are more casual. Cross-curricular and projectorientated activities are more widely practiced in kibbutz schools than in regular schools – even though in the meantime only few teachers at the regional schools are kibbutz members. But nearly all of them were trained at the teaching colleges of the kibbutz movement. In many kibbutz schools, students still work one day per week at a work place in the kibbutz or in a settlement nearby. They learn practical skills in different fields of work – this is helpful later when choosing a career. Young people who were born or educated in a kibbutz usually have very good opportunities on the job market in Israel. As a result of privatization, even kibbutz members very often have to apply for work outside the kibbutz. Employers often view education in a kibbutz as a seal of quality – because of the personal and professional qualifications of those applicants, even though education for work as ‘moral education’ has not been retained.

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The later success of education in the kibbutz, a result of its openness, was only possible because the kibbutz transformed from the relatively closed community in the strongly ideological Bund-phase (approximately until the foundation of the Jewish State in 1948), to the commune-phase, which was characterized by many ideological conflicts, and then into the more open association-phase, when the kibbutzim became bigger, stronger and wealthier, both socially and economically (see Talmon-Garber 1959; Cohen 1969, 1982) – a development from a small community, in which the democratic foundation was often overshadowed by an orientation towards strong leaders, to a (larger) society with democratic regulations, in which the opinion of single, although influential and convincing leaders, have less weight (see Fölling, Fölling-Albers & Herrmann 2011, p. 646f.). In the 1960s, majority decisions brought about two important changes: the abolition of the collective sleeping arrangements and the introduction of the matriculation exams after the 12th grade. The open­ ing  processes made the kibbutz more attractive for the majority of the members – the price they paid though was the loss of their exclusivity.  Kibbutz Educational and Educational Research Aside from its influence on different fields of educational practice in Israel, kibbutz education is also important in the field of pedagogical science. It is viewed as an ‘educational field laboratory’ and as an ‘educational laboratory for research’. Collective education in the kibbutz – especially collective sleeping arrangements – can be seen as a large-scale ‘educational field-experiment’ that cannot be repeated in this form. Although the pioneers did not view their educational system as a pedagogical experiment, an outsider might. The founders had no concrete example to use as a ‘blueprint’.2 In the beginning, the very hard economical conditions, but also the partly very heterogeneous ideological convictions and educational ideas of the first generation settlers led to an educational concept, a result of the

2 In his pedagogical experiment ‘Kinderheim Baumgarten’ concerning Jewish orphans in Vienna, Willy Hoffer (1965), a colleague of Siegfried Bernfeld, characterized the chapter ‘Am Anfang war die Utopie’ in Siegfried Bernfelds book ‘Das jüdische Volk und seine Jugend’ (1919) as a blue print for kibbutz education. Fölling, Fölling-Albers & Herrmann (2011) confirmed the correspondences, but also the differences between both concepts. Only few educational leaders of kibbutz education took notice of Bernfelds utopian dream.



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conditions, but also of the ideological aims of the founders. The ‘experiment kibbutz education’ was actually ‘born’ out of necessity and the poor conditions at the beginning of the last century in Palestine. But from the very beginning, there were also strong debates about the pros and cons of different educational matters, such as the role of the mothers in education, the issue of children staying overnight in the children’s homes etc. Some kibbutzim decided against the collective sleeping system – including the first kibbutz Degania. Therefore the decision in favor of collective sleeping arrangements was a conscious and well thought out decision, even though distinct, theoretical reasoning and legitimizations followed only afterwards. Later on, the paradox, inherent in the kibbutz ideology, of ‘radical parents’ in their ‘radical alternative commune’ expecting their children to conservatively retain the lifestyle, arose: The children of the second and third generation, especially the mothers, did not want to simply just continue what their parents had set up. This was partly due to their own negative experiences in the children’s homes (see e.g. the interviews in Liegle & Bergmann 1994, p. 59f.), but also due to the findings and publications about collective sleeping on the development of the children in some studies from as early as the 1950s. It was though mostly the findings from research on the attachment theory in the 1980s that brought about the changes. The kibbutz schools had also developed new concepts in education which were considered almost revolutionary at that time. The kibbutzim had set up an educational system that had incorporated, in an unprecedented way, various concepts from the international New Education movement. Because all kibbutz children attended that school, it was both an alternative school and a regular school and thus should have been of particular interest to the international progressive educa­ tion   movement. Therefore it is even more remarkable that the inter­ national  alternative education movement (in Germany, too) never looked to the successful alternative kibbutz school, despite the existence of theoretical analyses and publications about New Education in Palestine (see e.g. Liegle & Konrad 1989). A possible reason for this is that kibbutz schools are attended by Jewish pupils in Israel; something the left wing of the alternative movement do not like to get into (see in more detail Fölling-Albers & Fölling 1984, but further research is needed on this matter). Due to pressure from the second and third generation parents, the kibbutz school also had to give up significant features of their original

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program, and adapted to the regular school system in Israel – thereby failing to meet the expectations of the original concept. It can also be said that the changes and the adaptation to the state school system – without giving up New Education ideas completely – has had a positive influence on the State school system. Success and failure go hand in hand (see Liegle & Bergmann 1994, p. 40) – even in an educational context. Kibbutz education is the most well-researched educational system in the world. Over the years a seemingly endless amount of theoretical and empirical studies about this educational system have been carried out. Empirical examinations have been undertaken in just about every developmental stage of those growing up in the kibbutz. Thanks to kibbutz research, the information gained in educational and psycho­ logical  science about the impact of different educational settings on the development of children is much more reliable and advanced. It presents an important basis for further research on these topics. This applies to research on the cognitive development of children, their social, emotional, moral, mental development as well as to studies on nonconformist behavior, and on youth alcohol and drug problems (see Kugelmas & Nathan 1999; Fölling-Albers & Fölling 2000, pp. 196–200). Many internationally renowned scientists, such as Melford E. Spiro, Lawrence Kohlberg, Urie Bronfenbrenner, and Bruno Bettelheim, have recognized and treated kibbutz education as an important research area. Studies on kibbutz education – and especially those comparing children raised in children’s homes with those raised in family homes – have shown that collective education does not automatically lead to deficits in the personality of the children, although the risk there was somewhat higher. The model ‘kibbutz education’ should make us think more about the role of educators in the ‘traditional’ system. All the more in the face of increasing institutionalized education for babies and toddlers in Western societies, including Germany. In two emotional points of focus (children’s home and parents’ house) the kibbutzim were able to define the respective responsibilities relatively clearly. Although this rigid separation was no longer valid later on and cannot be applied in today’s day care centers, a theoretical discussion on this topic is still necessary. The first studies about bringing up children in kibbutzim and the impacts of collective education on the development of children were done by foreign researchers. Initially they came mainly from Britain and the United States, later on also from other American, from European, and even from Asian countries. For several decades now, kibbutz research has



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been carried out mainly by Israeli scientists, very often by researchers who live or have at least for some years lived in a kibbutz. This shows that the kibbutzim are interested in an objective and accurate analysis of their living conditions and the impact on their members. Not all studies, especially the first ones, fulfil today’s standards of research in terms of sample or methods. Nevertheless they initiated discussions in the kibbutzim about their educational concept, about the pros and cons of the conditions. Publications dealing with kibbutz education have not only contributed to the discussions about how kibbutz members themselves view their education concept, but have also ushered in changes to the system itself. The changes in the last decades indicate that the kibbutzim resolved the conflict between unity and openness, which is inherent in the kibbutz system (see Dar 1995), by opting for openness (see Ben-Rafael 1997 in regard to the transition of the kibbutz movement). In the area of historical educational research, kibbutz education is an excellent example when examining how pedagogical utopias came about, how they have developed and changed, and which particular conditions lead to their development (see Melzer & Neubauer 1988; Fölling, FöllingAlbers & Herrmann 2011).  Final Synopsis The kibbutz example shows that alternative models of living based on openness and basic democracy, but not on force, dogmatism or on a narrow interpretation of religious beliefs (like Amish people or Hutterites), cannot survive beyond several generations in capitalistic environments (the Zionist youth leader Siegfried Bernfeld already recognized this in 1919, see Bernfeld 2011). The more the ideological convictions responsible for introducing the alternative living system disappear, the more is the pressure to change. Two characteristics of early kibbutz education are typical of the strong ideological characteristics in the Bund-phase, which favored the community over the individual: the collective sleeping arrangements and the concept of an extensive child and youth culture (‘functional totality’). These concepts can hardly be transferred to other communities that revolve around the individual. But other aspects of kibbutz education could play a role in Western societies. That is especially true in the face of contemporary developments in Western societies, such as an increase in the rate of female employment,

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a diminishing birth rate, an increasing amount of single parents, etc. Kibbutz education could be a model for more collective responsibility in the bringing up of children. Some community villages in Israel have already adopted some kibbutz programs of educational and social care. In these villages it is possible to observe a paradoxical effect, namely that social oriented values can even have a place in modern individualistic and competitive societies. The humanistic aims and values of kibbutz education are still being practiced and adapted in kibbutz day care centers and schools today, such as giving all children the best chances for their development on an intellectual, creative, social and moral level. It is these educational principles that make education in the kibbutz so popular – even to non-kibbutz parents. The findings on kibbutz education can be summarized as follows: • Education was not the first concern of the pioneers. They wanted rather to build collective settlements in Palestine according to their socialist and Zionist ideas. Collective education in the children’s homes and at school, the institutionalization of a relatively independent child and youth society, and education for work were therefore a means to an end – the children born in the kibbutz were to become ‘kibbutznikim’ who would preserve and continue the work of their fathers. • Kibbutz education was initially interesting to foreigners and scientists because it was really ‘different’ and alternative. A great deal of important information and findings about bringing up children in collective institutions as compared to regular family and school education were gained. At the same time, the mere existence of this new type of living lead to a questioning of one’s own way of living. • For the majority of the members of the second and third generation who were not a part of the creation of this ideologically shaped collective educational system, but were educated in it, kibbutz education only gained acceptance when it was no longer so different and alternative. i.e. when it was not collectivistic any more. For them kibbutz education was not attractive, but education in the kibbutz was. • The opening processes – the process of individualizing and privatizing in general, and the opening of the children’s homes – not only helped the kibbutzim as settlements in general, but also helped the children’s houses and schools to survive. Furthermore they have helped ensure that they are once again an attractive place for living, with respec­ ted   educational institutions for the members and also for outsiders.



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The kibbutzim thus became attractive again, when the ‘ideological kibbutz’ ceased to exist. Moreover, the more the kibbutzim lost their alternative characteristics, the more they were accepted and the greater their influence became. • The price and consequences of being an exclusive community means that it is only attractive for a small and committed group. When the members are no longer committed, the readiness to live according to the original ideology diminishes. • If the ideological (or another, such as religious) conviction is no longer the driving force behind people choosing an alternative way of living, then better incentives must be offered to attract to the members. For many parents with young children the pleasant natural environment, as well as the present educational system could be such a reason. • Above all, the changes in kibbutz education not only helped the kibbutzim to survive, but are also preparing them for the future and ensuring their importance for the outside societies. In short, it can be said: the nature of early kibbutz education made it interesting, whereas the kibbutz education in the later period points the way to the future. • That means: it was not just the unusual and alternative concept of kibbutz education that provided important findings about educational concepts. In fact, the developments and the changes have also provided important information for research and analysis, particularly for the future. In industrial societies, the education and care of even very small children is no longer just taking place within the family, but also in institutions outside of the family home. It often takes place through a “mixture” of different institutions (parents and grandparents, creche, kindergarten and day care centers, and extra-curricular programs involving sport, music etc.). These forms of education and care are usually pragmatic solutions that are not backed up by a solid theoretical concept. The German childhood researcher Honig (2011) calls for a “theory of supervised childhood” (“Theorie betreuter Kindheit”) that structures and clarifies the different goals and roles of the various educators, carers, and institutions. With its concept of “multiple mothering”, kibbutz education has provided theoretically founded answers to the question of what function and role the most important people (particularly the parents and the metapelet, and now the informal education in the day care centers) should have and play in the education of the next generation, and where their particular advantages, specifics and, at the same time, limits lie. It also applies to the

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development of a concept for a relatively independent youth culture – as preparation and practice for adult life – and refers here to the roles of the youth group leader, the teacher, and the parents. Even in the 21st century, a “theory of supervised childhood” could benefit from kibbutz education. On the one hand, there is no other educational system where so many empirical results have been gathered about the effects of specific educational practices on the development of children. Over the course of time, on the other hand, kibbutz education did not remain dogmatic and as a result of this willingness to change was able to develop into the highly successful “education in the kibbutz” that continues to include important elements of the traditional kibbutz education – and not just for children from the kibbutz.

KIBBUTZ: SURVIVAL AT RISK1 Eliezer Ben-Rafael  Introduction For one hundred years, the kibbutz was an undisputed model of an agricultural and industrial collective that implemented sharing, equality, and direct democracy among its members. Since the mid-1980s, however, many kibbutzim have undergone far-reaching changes (FRCs) that reexamine basic premises. Individual and differential salaries, privatization of property rights over apartments, financial share in terms of invested capital, or absorbing non-members as residents and partial members, inconceivable in the past are now becoming instituted norms. Such innovations raise unavoidably the question whether this means that the kibbutz is gone forever. This chapter confronts this question on the basis of recent sociological investigations. The current transformation process was triggered by the formidable economic-demographic crisis in the second half of the 1980s (Ben-Rafael 1997) that erupted in the context of the overwhelming inflation that crippled the country, and the rigorous anti-inflationary steps that the government put in place. At the time, the kibbutz movement had lost its traditional backing from a favorable ruling coalition, following the rise to power of the right in 1977. As a result, it had lost any preferential treatment, which still magnified the impact of the crisis on the kibbutzim. This crisis urged kibbutz members to put on trial the “sacred cows” they had venerated for years and which they now believed had led them to where they stood. Nearly a third of all kibbutzim were on the verge of bankruptcy, many others in the throes of unforeseen straits, and the young generation was deserting in droves. What most exasperated kibbutzniks was that they were confronting these challenges after three generations of harsh sacrifices to make their settlements flourish. At this point kibbutzniks spared no aspect in their questioning of its utility. A process 1 An earlier version of this chapter was published in Israel Studies (2011) vol. 16/2: 81–108; the present version is published here with the agreement of Indiana University Press.

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of revision ensued that still continues in the 2010s. Kibbutzim, and the kibbutz movement as a whole, still seem thirsty for changes. Menachem Rosner (2004) explains here that changes have unfolded in Israel itself. Israel, he says, has become a consumption society that emulates Western countries. In the same perspective, Michal Palgi (2004) contends that kibbutzniks are being pressurized by the environment to abandon their original commitments causing an erosion of values among kibbutzniks visible for years. Ideological defection leads kibbutzim to aspire to resemble “regular” settlements and leaving out whatever the notion of kibbutz represents. Yet, leaving the kibbutz sector is not at all easy for members who still recognize themselves in their past. Rosner and Getz (1996) thus speak of kibbutzniks’ tendency to implement “hybrid” changes rather than “revolutionary” ones. The former tend to reconcile innovation and allegiance to the past, refusing to completely disown old value premises. This is confirmed by developments occurring in many settlements and leads Palgi to speak of three kinds of kibbutzim now existing: the “collective kibbutz” which has remained faithful to classic kibbutz principles; the “differential/privatized/renewed kibbutz”, which is connected to the introduction of FRCs in many areas; and the “combined kibbutz”, which is characterized by hybrid changes (Palgi 2004). Rosner (2004) (see also Getz 1998) does not believe that the intermediary category of kibbutzim represents a viable formula: in the long run, kibbutzim in that category should probably align themselves with the differential kibbutzim – which are a step away from no longer being called a kibbutz. If room remains for optimism, from the viewpoint of kibbutz durability, Rosner sees it in some global tendencies which re-valorize communal experiments in their original forms. For other researchers, like Lanir (1992), what made the 1985 crisis so acute was that the economic-financial crisis combined with and actually caused a demographic and employment crisis. A situation was created that required several years to recover. Lanir also blames the kibbutz’s relation to its environment and its inability to withstand the anti-kibbutz inclination of today’s political elite. He and many like him are deeply pessimistic about the future of the kibbutz. Other commentators propose an in-between attitude. Eli Avrahami (1992), for instance, conducted research in a variety of kibbutzim about prevailing perceptions of the change processes. The researcher’s general picture from his interviews is gloomy but does not chart total despair.



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Similarly, one can distinguish changes representing adjustment to a given reality, and others that signify detachment from previous valuepremises. Avrahami contends that most kibbutzim refrain from definitive detachment. Other studies confront present-day changes in kibbutzim by focusing on specific issues. Menachem Topel (2005) singles out the rise to power of a class of technocratic managers. He found that, more than at any previous period, these people are heading all major areas of public decisionmaking. Yechezkel Dar (2002) analyzes from different approaches the changes that occurred in kibbutz education at that period. He focuses on the family’s growing role, the slackening of the movement’s control over kibbutz schools, the increasing importance of teaching knowledge, and the declining importance of ideological education. In a similar vein Sylvie Fogel-Bijaoui’s edited book (1992) investigates the changing status of women and their relation to changes and employment opportunities. The authors show how women are returning to traditional feminine roles, though not neglecting new opportunities for careers in or outside the kibbutz. Recent surveys across the kibbutz sector indicate that in kibbutzim where FRCs have been implemented, members express a higher level of satisfaction from kibbutz life (Palgi and Orchan 2010).  Changing Definitions As a whole, these works demonstrate the strength of the trend for FRCs, though without disregarding the fact that some kibbutzim are doing their best to withstand the “temptation”. While no few kibbutzim go as far as adopting all or nearly all FRCs possible, others are more timid and continue asserting their loyalty to the “old regime”. This diversity of tendencies creates a degree of chaos throughout the kibbutz movement and among external agencies dealing with kibbutzim. A few examples: until the introduction of differential salaries, kibbutzim paid collective income tax according to the settlement’s general condition. Since differential salaries were introduced in some places, that system is no longer valid and requests new arrangements that are not the same from kibbutz to kibbutz. In a same vein, how can business be concluded with a kibbutz when its legal status of collective responsibility is unclear? What is true of external factors is also true for the movement: how can the organs of the kibbutz sector speak on behalf of kibbutzim vis-à-vis the outside, when it is no longer clear what exactly constitutes a kibbutz?

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Against this backdrop, state agencies sought to open a discussion about the appropriate definition of a kibbutz. The kibbutzim themselves voiced the need to assess their reciprocal relations and a similar exigency was raised by the kibbutz movement that aims to secure the grounds on which it claims leadership. Above all, there is the juridical system, in charge of justice in the individual’s dealings with the collective, and the collective’s with external agencies, and which is confused by the different norms prevailing in settlements equally called “kibbutzim”. All these led the Israeli government (2003) to set up a public committee to redefine the concept of a “kibbutz” and draw up general guidelines for the legislative body’s dealings with kibbutzim. The committee was also tasked with clarifying what remains within the boundaries of a “kibbutz” and what transgressed them. This committee (the Ben-Rafael Committee after the name of its president) included public figures, leaders of the kibbutz movement, academics and officials at the Justice Ministry. After lengthy and turbulent debates between divergent viewpoints, the committee specified which FRCs can be viewed as legitimate variations of the kibbutz space, and which stand beyond. Renewed kibbutzim, it was agreed, would differ from collective kibbutzim, in that the former might implement FRCs such as the privatization of members’ apartments, introduction of differential salaries and distribution of cooperative shares. Following this premise, whole sets of provisions considered the insti­ tutional and structural consequences of each subdivision. These provisions were accepted by the government and later translated into decrees (Ben-Rafael and Topel 2009). In brief, what has happened throughout the kibbutz sector over the past decades shows that many kibbutzim are resolute enough to overcome all difficulties and are creating a brand-new reality. This reality is characterized by diverse and varying models running from the kibbutzim remaining faithful to their past to those which opted for all possible FRCs. It is a pluralistic reality with new horizons, but with attendant new problems and conflicts.  Pluralism Pluralism is now a popular concept in the social sciences. Under this heading, researchers focus on sociocultural groups and their reciprocal relations (Beneke 2006). They emphasize the presence in social settings of cultures that deviate in significant aspects from prevailing norms and



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values. According to the Harvard Pluralism Project, elaborated by Diana L. Eck (2002), pluralism refers not only to diversity, but also and primarily to the engagement of actors with coexistence within diversity. In this perspective, diversity is pluralism when it is both a given and an achievement, when tolerance mixes with active search for mutual understanding across lines of difference. Pluralism is not to be confounded with relativism, since it consists of encounters between different commitments. It means maintaining differences, up to and including religious differences, not in isolation but in relationship to one another. This is possible, Eck contends, only in the frame of a dialogue that does not necessarily mean that everyone at the “table” agrees with one another, but that every one is committed to sit at the table. This notion thus proposes a view of society that does not assume homogeneity of models of action and aspirations. It outdates both the old melting-pot concept as well as Huntington’s (2005) notion of salad bowl. It presents a picture where the components remain distinct, unlike the melting-pot image, but still refer to each other’s forming, or aspiring to form, one whole. This is not exactly what the salad bowl concept means. In a way, this approach to pluralism follows the old tradition in the social sciences that as early as the 1960s spoke of social and cultural pluralism (Dahl 1961; Lipset 1981), and focused on the political implications of sociocultural collectives coexisting in the same settings. The assumption was that collectives can enlist political power on behalf of particularistic interests by establishing political parties or lobbies. Lindblom and Dahl (1976) added to this analysis that, although mobilized groupings have free access to politics, there is always the possibility that some interests become dominant and achieve more power than others. Hence, technocratic and political elites may use their presence at the helm of the government to create oligarchic mechanisms ensuring their continuation in power. That addition justifies labeling this approach, in more conflictual terms, as “neo-pluralism”. Drawing on the Harvardian approach, one can also add here that pluralism signifies that collectives and their political leaders are not only constituent parts of society but also agents of change through interaction with each other and with the state. This perspective concurs with Taylor’s (1994) theory of identity politics. These notions are relevant to kibbutz reality at a time when, following the Committee’s conclusions, kibbutzniks enjoy more freedom than before to shape their own internal social order. Members have now the oppor­tunity to assess particular interests – as individuals or groups. The resulting pluralism then plays out at two levels – the kibbutz sector itself

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and individual kibbutzim. At the first level, pluralism is questioned concerning the extent to which kibbutzim are growing ever more different from each other. At the second level, pluralism is a function of the kibbutz’s experience with FRCs and internal heterogeneization, favoring the appearance of new actors and new rules of behavior. In more focused terms, and following the Harvard definition of pluralism, one may then ask (1) to what extent, in the new kibbutz reality, groups are distinct from each other; (2) if so, how far are they committed to particular interests; (3) in what measure such groups bear in mind the demands of coexistence. Are such groups, if they exist, aware that shaping and developing a way of life common to all is contingent on cooperation and conciliatory perspectives? This pluralism, to the extent that it effectively transpires in events in the kibbutzim, is antithetical to the concept of social order that for decades guided the kibbutzniks. The traditional kibbutz’ social order took, indeed, for granted the community’s homogeneity and the sole allegiance of individuals to the collective. In this sense, the current era is a new page in the history and sociology of kibbutzim. It raises in all its acuity the question standing at the heart of the debates raging both in the general literature and in literature on the kibbutz, namely, do we speak of developments that still illustrate continuity vis-à-vis the past or, to the contrary, a conjuncture essentially different and discontinuous from previous stages. When questioning the kibbutz in these respects, the other unavoidable issue that arises concerns the impacts of such developments on its current status in the contemporary Israeli society (Eisenstadt 1985). For more than half a century, the kibbutz movement was a powerful agent in the construction of this society. It contributed to national missions by developing agriculture and industry in peripheral regions, assuming security duties far beyond its numerical importance, and providing an inspiring utopia of egalitarianism and sharing. The question at this point is: are kibbutzim which undergo FRCs and where material interests are now prevailing preoccupations, still sensitive to the role they might play in society and able to make their voice heard?  What [Still] Singularizes a Kibbutz Today? It is to remind, at this point, that the 2003 Public Committee reasserted the singularity of the kibbutz, even when it adopts the most extreme



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FRCs, provided it does not detach itself from two basic codes (Ben-Rafael and Topel 2009) – wide mutual responsibility and consensus building in view of major organizational decisions. MR is to be funded by the community tax that each member pays, proportional to his or her income; consensus building for endorsing FRCs means that any decision of major importance has to be the outcome of in-depth discussions, eventually through protracted attempts to reach the agreement of the overwhelming majority of members. The expectation is that the kibbutz will continue exemplifying a way of life as far as MR is enforced and comprise health care, lodging, education, minimal income far beyond regular welfare, and changes in the social order remain dependent on the “will of the people”. These provisions are not just one-time privileges but permanent conditions. To these two fundamental aspects one may add several other features that guarantee in one way or another, that today’s kibbutzim are “continuing” kibbutz history. One example is the retention of the movement framework despite its lost of status in eyes of kibbutzniks turned toward their internal preoccupations. Hence, in 1999, the two major kibbutz movements found the power to merge and form the “Kibbutz Movement” which, thanks to the unification of their structures were able to retain a degree of relevance for their affiliated settlements by developing services needed by both collective and renewed kibbutzim. As a result, while here and there voices have been heard demanding that the more “orthodox” kibbutzim break away from the “deviant ones”, these expressions of protest remained unanswered. On the side of supporters and the detractors of FRCs, alike, few people subscribe to the opinion that endorsing or rebutting FRCs justifies splitting the newly united kibbutz movement. This does not yet signify that the kibbutz situation as a whole has achieved stability. The kibbutz community is autonomous, and it may decide to innovate again and again, or to withdraw from earlier decisions. In fact, this pertains to the very essence of a kibbutz – whichever model wins its allegiance. Among these choices, there is indeed always the possibility that kibbutzniks opt for transgressing the line separating what is still defined as a kibbutz and what is not. As such, kibbutzim belong today to what Beck (1992) calls a “risk society”. It is effectively at risk by eventual decisions of its own members. For kibbutzniks, to remain a kibbutz or to step out from what a kibbutz still represents is a choice that can be decided at any moment. This freedom generates kibbutz pluralism: each kibbutz may adopt its own “cocktail” of FRCs, or even to refuse to make do with them.

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Yet, however substantial these differences, they do not encourage dismantling shared frameworks. Despite plurality one can still identify readiness among kibbutzim to view their singularities as coherent. It is this aspiration that entitles kibbutz-sector plurality to qualify for the Harvardian model of pluralism. More precisely, this entitlement is demonstrated by the processes taking place at the level of individual kibbutzim where new groups as well as new rules of confrontation appear and tend to prevail. Conflicts and tensions are not new in the kibbutz and at its earlier stages one could find rivalries between competing leaders, cliques, social-status layers (Rosenfeld 1951), kinship groupings (TalmonGarber 1972) or generational groups. Following the recent wave of changes, however, we observe a substantial widening of the range of interest groups dividing the community along new lines. New categories find fertile ground for crystallization, in present-day kibbutz life, raise a variety of claims and imprint themselves on a new dynamism of the community. According to the pluralism problématique, the question then arising refers to the extent that such a plurality of interests effectively qualify for the Harvardian notion of pluralism. This question was at the center of the research that we summarize below, and that is reported elsewhere in detail (Ben-Rafael et al. 2012). This research was carried out from 2008 to 2010, and focused on fourteen kibbutzim that were selected with the view of obtaining a representative diversity of issues currently preoccupying kibbutzniks. The sample numbered kibbutzim of diverse dimensions, some more “collective” and others more eager to innovate. The diversity of the kibbutz sector regarding movement origin, age, and geographical location was also addressed. This sample of kibbutzim was to serve two different but complementary goals: we started with research focusing on selected significant events and continued with an overview of the major social actors operating in each kibbutz.  Significant Events In each kibbutz, we were assisted by an informant who reported on the most controversial issue that had been debated in his or her kibbutz during 2008. This informant interviewed five to seven people who had been involved in the debates and, on this basis, he or she described what kind of coalitions and interests received expression in the event, which rules were followed, and how the issue at stake was concluded.



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One category of events includes four cases relating to the absorption of sons and daughters of the kibbutz. The topic itself is not new; what is new, however, is the fact that the FRCs which kibbutzim have undergone considerably changed young people’s perspectives about the eventuality of linking their future to the kibbutz. They may now receive apartments as private property, be free to work in or outside the kibbutz, and get an income proportional to their merit. The atmosphere created by these moves encourages them to remain in the kibbutz, or to return to it. To some extent this even holds for collective kibbutzim; the few changes that have already taken place there indicate that the settlement might become a renewed one some day. This new phase has also inherent difficulties that were shown by some of the events investigated. One of these concerns the sacrifices that the kibbutz accepts to do in view of absorbing youngsters interested in re-settling. Budgeting absorption cannot be without impact on the budgeting of other objectives. Retired people for instance, who depend on the settlement for retirement money may feel threatened by the generosity of the kibbutz to newcomers. This kind of tension may get more complex when youngsters who wish to come back to the kibbutz –mostly without becoming full-members – bargain the advantages they receive from the kibbutz. Eventually, they get the support of some veteran members who want their children to settle in their kibbutz close to them. On the other hand, aging people are often anxious to guarantee their retirement money and may be reticent to show “over”-generous at the benefit of newcomers, which could jeopardize their allowance. Somehow related to this issue, harsh conflicts may also develop around the calculation of retirement money. In a kibbutz with differential salaries, it is obvious that the allowance should be paid in due time according to what was earned before retirement. However, how should this sum be calculated for people who have reached pension age but never received any differential form of financial rewarding in the past? In several places, the issue has become a banner for the organization of retirees as a permanent pressure group in the community. This issue also relates to the question of the community tax. This tax is a new institution and results from the endorsement of differential salaries among members. According to income, members must now pay to the community a tax that allows it to operate its services. Because this tax is progressive, high-salary people may feel they are “supporting” the community with their disproportionate contribution. Indeed, in some kibbutzim, such privileged individuals organized and claimed for reduced

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taxation. Their bargaining power lies in their capacity – thanks to their profession, position, or experience – to easily leave the kibbutz and settle comfortably elsewhere. Since, however, allowances for the aged are often guaranteed by this community tax, one witnesses here and there a genuine harsh dispute opposing veterans and high-salary individuals. Another category of events stems from the privatization of members’ apartments which may raise the question of the equivalence of the different spaces and spatial arrangements of the apartments that are provided to members. Acute quarrels sometimes erupt between families and the committee in charge of implementing privatization. Still another new problem concerns the area of work and the new regulations imposed in the context of FRCs. One case that particularly attracts attention concerns the layoff of a kibbutz member from a factory owned by the kibbutz but managed by outside directors. Layoffs never occurred in the past without prolonged discussions by community commissions. Now, in the FRCs era, managers are often outsiders who are granted complete authority over their personal. In the case that came up in the research, a veteran kibbutznik who had worked for years in the kibbutz factory was laid off by the manager, salaried himself. This came as a shock to the community, and entailed petitions by the worker’s supporters, and endless debates throughout the kibbutz. The central bodies also dedicated hours of discussion to the matter, but none of these were of use– even after the member went to court outside the kibbutz and sued. Ultimately the judge ordered a conciliation that awarded the member a compensation but did not cancel the lay-off. This case is revealing of events now likely to happen in the sphere of kibbutz work. Other cases demonstrate how far the new population of non-members currently being absorbed by kibbutzim has become a powerful factor in the settlement. As non-members, these residents are not entitled to intervene in the internal affairs of the kibbutz, but as permanent residents they participate in local-municipal institutions that address the whole population. In tandem with kibbutz institutions, there are also institutions that target members and non-members alike and which are responsible for services such the swimming pool, the public library, and other areas of activity. Gradually, non-members tend to achieve a say on core kibbutz institutions. A particularly relevant example here is the educational system that was traditionally a most central preoccupation of kibbutzniks. It is now de facto under the influence of non-member residents whose children often constitute the vast majority of the pupils. One more example, in a kibbutz



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that had always defined itself as secular, residents managed to impose the construction of a synagogue after a prolonged conflict with the membership that went as far as the courtroom.  New Actors We completed our investigation with general overviews of the major social actors in the kibbutzim of the sample. At this stage, we interviewed in each kibbutz six to eight individuals representative of diverse social milieus. Researchers asked a series of questions aimed at drawing out the communities’ power configuration. The research clearly showed that in many kibbutzim, existing groups tended to assert themselves more vigorously than in the past, while new ones were becoming important actors in the public sphere. Elderly Members. In many kibbutzim, elderly members are an arti­culate group whose primary concern is the allowances to which its members are entitled. They never worked for a salary and their primary preoccupation concerns how their retirement pension is computed. Once this issue is settled satisfactorily, a second question refers to the stability of the arrangements – when demands on kibbutz resources abound from other possibly stronger actors. Adding to their concerns is the eventual return of sons and daughters of the kibbutz as residents or partial members. The parents of these newcomers are interested in this return, even to the detriment of their own personal comfort and they often provide strong support, from within the kibbutz membership, to the demands of the newcomers – or back-comers. Other older members, however, may form a vehement opposition to a “surplus” of generosity for newcomers, fearing for their own income from the same treasury. Moreover, veterans may show irritated when newcomers ask for modifications in longstanding arrangement, complaining, “these people who have done nothing for the kibbutz are stealing it from us.” The Middle-aged. This is the most active segment of the collective. Most are kibbutz-born who staff the positions of responsibility. Quite a few people in this age-group work outside the kibbutz and earn high salaries. These “strong people” are often blamed for “oligarchic tendencies”. Economically Independent Members. These actors are new. They are members but wish to remain independent economically. Members of this status pay the kibbutz in return for specific services only. This kind of

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partial membership is defined as an “interim” phase of two or three years, until newcomers adjust to full kibbutz life. Yet, it is quite possible that after the first phase, people of this status ask to prolong it further, or to make it a legitimate permanent condition. At this stage already, people in this category articulate interests of their own that revolve around the terms of exchange with the community: the cost of services, the infrastructure of their neighborhood, or the quality of education their children receive in the kibbutz school. In this bargaining, partial members may clash with other interests in the distribution of kibbutz resources. Salaried Managers. Another new group of actors consists of the salaried managers who often staff the settlement’s economic and social leadership. This is bound to the kibbutzniks’ determination to ensure efficient management –in factories as well as social affairs. This leadership is remote from ideological or personal-emotional involvement and tends to establish new rules of behavior that respond to criteria that ignore longstanding kibbutz practices. Members may agree to the new rules as several kibbutzim distribute shares granting them property rights over productive branches that may, at the end of the financial year, bring them benefits. This form of innovation affects people’s motivation to work hard (at least for those employed in the kibbutz), sharpens material incentives and derogates from the traditional value of work as fulfillment. In this respect, efforts of salaried managers to increase efficiency and profitability encounter the desire of the kibbutzniks themselves. Moreover, while these high level salaried people seldom aspire to become dominant factors in the community, they easily find a common language with the local technocrats. Non-member sons and daughters. In the renewed kibbutz, those who decide to become members on reaching 18 are entitled ipso facto – and under some provisions – to receive an apartment of their own, while those who decide to come back some years after they left are only entitled to buy an apartment on special conditions. Interestingly, many of the latter decide to become residents or partial members but not full members. Despite this status, they still represent the young generation and enjoy the backing of their parents who are members. These new actors are thus able to submit demands to the kibbutz on a variety of items – control of the local school as parents; of the swimming pool as users; of the physical planning of the settlement as residents, etc. Residents without kibbutz background. Kibbutzim may also absorb residents who are foreign to kibbutz life and have bought apartments



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in the neighborhoods built for newcomers. They pay a full price for their apartments as well as for the services they buy from the kibbutz. Once a significant number of families, they participate in all-settlement municipal bodies the importance of which tends to supersede areas of responsibility pertaining to kibbutz institutions. For the kibbutz, this creates a situation where children are again running along the paths, and crowds of people attend community celebrations. On the other hand, conflicts may arise between residents and kibbutzniks on diverse issues, since the former are a relatively young population that wishes to be active in the public domain and may hurt the latter’s sensitivity and emotional involvement in given traditions. Several other actors might be added to this list. One thinks here of members who, here and there in renewed kibbutzim, reject the new rules and request that the “classic” formula of kibbutz life remains in place for them, within the community. While most of these people are elderly members, in some places it is rather spoken of younger people who assert thereby their loyalty to the old values. Such groups form a kind of commune within the community. Other groups that may become factions are workers in the factory or agricultural branches, the feminist lobby, people who are unable to earn an honorable income, and individuals who see themselves discriminated against, for whatever reason. In brief, the heterogeneity of interests and groupings has become a salient feature of social life, which now faces the challenge of accommodating multiple divergent interests. For this plurality to become a viable and constructive form of pluralism, each party must not only be aware of its own wishes, but of the others’ too – since there are not always warning road signs around that indicate where and when irreparable damage is liable to occurr to the life in community.  Twofold Pluralism Hence, the kibbutzim as a whole form anything but a homogeneous and unified whole. The majority position themselves somehow between the two extremes – the most conservative kibbutz on the one hand, and the most innovative, on the other. In addition, they are far from illustrating a static reality; they continue moving further increasing the confusion of the general picture. This reality does not augment the interest that kibbutzniks have in the central bodies of the kibbutz movement. The feeling is that this organization is now of little utility to the individual kibbutz. The kibbutz

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movement leaders themselves are familiar with that attitude and they most often refrain from enouncing binding resolutions. Today in addition to all the reasons accounting for that tendency in the past, there is the current multiplicity of distinctive configurations that differentiate kibbutzim from each other. In this context, to many kibbutzniks, the very concept of movement seems inappropriate. However, the surprising phenomenon is that, all in all, the kibbutzim themselves seem still interested in the existence of a movement framework. They voice their readiness to cooperate with it provided their autonomy is respected. Hence, the movement remains an actor that cannot to be ignored even though it has lost much of its relevance. It still play a role as its legal department serves the kibbutzim’s juridical difficulties; its secretary draws up advisory guidelines for kibbutzim that confront the state bureaucracy on issues relating to the implementation of FRCs; its committees of experts supply economic and financial advice to settlements in need. What is more, volens nolens, the movement serves as a kind of “ethics police”: it drafts regulations concerning MR, charting the border between what is a kibbutz and what is not. This task is vital precisely at this time, of identity confusion among the kibbutzim. The endurance of the movement implies that it also continues to constitute a scene of power game for various actors. We may think of collective kibbutzim facing renewed ones, strong and rich kibbutzim facing the less prosperous, kibbutzim of given regions vis-à-vis others situated elsewhere, etc. Nevertheless, since the movement has little to offer, those coalitions and configurations exercise little impact beyond the symbolic sphere. What the movement offers and is more tangible is the sense of belonging to an organized sector that has a collective presence in Israeli society. Kibbutzniks are aware that the kibbutz has always been a component of the all-Israeli pluralism. In the “heroic” period, i.e., in the formative years of this society, the kibbutz sector went even further beyond the Harvardian model of pluralism. At that time, it did not aspire to represent just a segment of the society ready to accommodate itself to others; its ambition was to assume leadership by illustrating what it believed to be an inspiring societal project. Today, however, this ambitious stand seems outdated for good. A recent study has shown the extent to which that perception is part of the distant past (Ben-Rafael et al. 2012). This research was conducted among highranking state officials and kibbutzniks who, on behalf of their functions, are in working relation with them. The general feeling among kibbutzniks was that their interlocutors are deeply estranged to the kibbutz reality



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and show a total lack of empathy. Generalizing from their experience, they complained that the state now discriminates against the kibbutz, in comparison with other kinds of settlements. Some even spoke of “arrogance”. When the officials themselves were interviewed and shown the kibbutzniks’ testimonies, denial was unanimous: what the kibbutzniks see as discrimination, they contended, constitute in fact general norms that are applied to everyone, in the same manner. Many hypotheses explaining this discrepancy are possible. One of them fits the Harvardian pluralistic model, and it would identify here a gap of perspectives deriving from the different ways officials and kibbutzniks interpret the position of kibbutzim in society. Israel is composed of different sectors – national, religious, ethnocultural, or ideologicalpolitical – and for officials kibbutzim are no more than one component. The kibbutzniks, as for them, are still trying, not always with strong conviction, to capitalize on their past to obtain satisfaction in the present and, above all to set their relation to society in terms of “special contribution”. Without denying the soundness of kibbutzniks’ complaints about the bureaucracy’s handling of kibbutz affairs (we have not delved deeply into the matter), what we can assert is that clear differences of style have appeared in the discourse of each side. Officials stick to specific contentions regarding detailed claims, while kibbutzniks tend to make general statements about their counterparts’ “intentions” or “underlying value judgments”. These differences in style tend to validate the hypothesis that we are seeing here essential discrepancies in the reciprocal approaches by the two sides. While kibbutzniks see themselves as “Class-A Citizens”, officials see them rather as “regular citizens”. What further objectively weakens the status of kibbutzim in the eyes of the bureaucracy are the very renewed processes that singularize the path of each individual settlement. Hence, the internal pluralization of the kibbutz movement tends to weaken the all-Israeli status of the kibbutz. Following the Harvardian approach, it seems that the acute problem in these kibbutz-state rela­ tions is the lack of constructive dialogue and understanding of each side of the other’s own problématique.  Achievements and Risks It is undeniable that the spread of FRCs throughout the kibbutz sector has effectively led to development and improved well-being. Yoni Shadmi

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(2010), an economic analyst and journalist (not a kibbutznik himself) gives first-hand testimony after visiting several kibbutzim. With all the precaution required by journalistic accounts, his assessment is that, contrarily to the expectations of many factors unfriendly to the kibbutz, a shift has taken place in kibbutzim that can be considered a genuine success. Shadmi contends that kibbutzim have transformed their model in ways that render them more productive, more dedicated to production, and more attractive to newcomers. Kibbutzim are now capable of supplying high-quality services and have instituted exemplary structures of welfare. His believes that kibbutzim have found a way to combine capitalistic and socialistic requirements, which allows them to project a new message to society. Shadmi recalls that in the 1980s dozens of kibbutzim faced heavy financial debts that threatened their survival. Just when the end of the kibbutz “episode” was being taken for granted by many observers, the renewal process brought about economic recovery. 65 out of 272 kibbutzim made a profit in excess of ten million shekels, and in tandem, the number of kibbutzim that had lost over two million shekels fell by 20%. Moreover, in 2008, for the first time in twenty years, more people joined kibbutzim than left them. About 150 kibbutzim welcomed dozens or hundreds of new members. Some kibbutzim are today turning down potential newcomers due to a housing shortage. Differential salaries, privatization of apartments, and other FRCs have literally transformed the life and atmosphere in kibbutzim. The price of these changes, Shadmi admits, was weakened commitment to traditional values, but he believes it was worth the entrance into an era of renewal. Our own research adds to this picture a note of realism and several question marks. We bear in mind that plurality can lead to confrontations and a loss of cohesion short of pluralism – at least as it is understood in the Harvardian approach. History is rich with cases where division-lines led to splits– and the narrative of the kibbutz movement brings up many such examples. This risk, however, has not yet been illustrated by contemporary controversies between collective and renewed kibbutzim – though some undertones regarding “who represents the true kibbutz” are heard here and there. In fact, a large number of collective kibbutzim are among the wealthiest, capable of satisfying members’ needs without resorting to reform. This explains why the “collective kibbutz” hardly represents a credible ideological banner for other less favored kibbutzim, eager to implement innovations to improve their lot. Furthermore, no few collective kibbutzim do adopt some of the initiatives of the renewed kibbutzim, nay even openly discuss the possibility that they go over to the innovators.



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All these indicate an unclear borderline between categories of settlements and slacken the threatening prospect of splits. On the other hand, it is undeniable that today’s kibbutz sector exem­plifies a reality best described by Ulrich Beck’s (1992) notion of “risk society”. By this we mean that this sector is marked by features that imply crucial challenges for its survival and that survival itself comprise dramatic dangers. Four issues came up in the context of our investigations of contemporary kibbutzim. (1) One condition that still qualifies a kibbutz as such resides in the disposition that FRCs on the kibbutz agenda require an overwhelming majority of members to be decided upon. But by the same token, it also follows from this very democratic-collective principle that one cannot exclude the possibility that kibbutz members would agree by a sufficient majority about measures that would position their settlement outside the space of kibbutz. Freedom of choice by kibbutzniks both warrants and endangers the future of the settlement as a kibbutz. (2) We have also seen that the capability of many kibbutzim for economic recovery is partly explained by the endorsement of differential salaries and the privatization of areas of activity. Personal achievement has hence greatly gained in appreciation as a factor of work and life motivation. This development may, here like elsewhere, grant importance to the belongingness to given social strata, in contrast to the longstanding aspirations of kibbutzniks to sharing and equality. Ever since the link between kibbutz and these two basic values is untied, one may expect a loss of control over the limits of inequality. Here too, like in other social settings, the “rich” may also be the “strong”. The combination of these two attributes may take the kibbutz community far beyond what was probably expected when the first FRCs were implemented, and damage irremediably the solidarity and cohesion of the community. (3) Similar blessings and curses may follow the intake of non-member residents and partial members. This intake has definitely created a drastic demographic increase in kibbutzim suffering from a lack of people of young age. Hence, this intake is nothing less than a genuine rejuvenation with numerous attendant benefits in the social, cultural, and economic life. Ironically, when the kibbutz becomes “less of a kibbutz”, it becomes more attractive to the non-kibbutznik. Living in a kibbutz nowadays requires no sacrifice; on the contrary, it offers a quality of life not easily obtained elsewhere. Yet, the high-risk factor in this respect is that the newcomers request, as they are fully entitled to, frameworks that allow them to have a say in

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domains of activity where they are involved – from culture to the physical planning of the community. All these may cause uneasiness among kibbutzniks who see the settlement as the place that they built and where they invested their lives. These historical rights, however, are probably doomed to have less and less impact once the new and younger population increases and “invades” the space. This, needless to say, is still facilitated by the fact that kibbutz-born people are numerous among the newcomers and are aware of the dynamics of the settlement’s public scene. (4) Additional risks for the survival of the kibbutz originate from a different direction, namely, the changing status of the kibbutz in the society. Kibbutzniks today have no choice but to accept that they are considered special only to the extent that other segments of Israel’s pluralism are seen as special in their own ways; a kind of singularity that by no means guarantees more privileges than others. That kibbutzniks must accept that they are “different like others” signifies, in the perspective of the Harvardian pluralism model, that they must accept that one of their basic identity principles, i.e., the universalism of their experience and its elite significance has become outdated. This situation may easily lead members to disenchantment with kibbutz life in whatever interpretation. This option also represents a risk for the survival of the kibbutz – not so much as a structure, but as a culture. From all these perspectives, the kibbutz certainly matches the notion of a risk society. Speculating about which factor is the most threatening is irrelevant here. What they all share in common is that they depend on the wishes and hopes of kibbutzniks themselves. The implication is that the kibbutz is a society which is primarily at risk … from itself. Hence, the general picture that we have drawn here corrects Martin Buber’s (1996) description of the kibbutz in the late 1940s as an “exemplary non-failure”. The kibbutz today appears rather as a non-failure, whose main achievement is that it is still with us: apparently, what it has lost on the way is something of its exemplarity.  A Faustian Syndrome The discussion of the kibbutz today, we contend, does convey some general significance in terms of pluralism analysis. It indeed appears that renewal has effectively helped out many kibbutzim from a sudden threat of economic and demographic catastrophe. As the analysis shows, this



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danger was escaped by the switch to FRCs and abandoning patterns sanctified by decades of practice that were the very markers of kibbutz life. Crucial values that singled out the kibbutz from all other social settings were literally re-interpreted. One could elaborate here on the end of the ethos of labor so dear to the founding pioneers, and the decline of the originally ambitious scheme of collective education. Whether consciously or not the kibbutz movement also illustrates a drastic shift of orientation vis-à-vis Israeli society, due both to its current almost exclusive concentration on inner challenges, and its reduced interest in its status in society. This, however, does not prevent representatives of the movement from continuing to expect “special treatment” because of its “heroic” past. In this respect, the kibbutz sector is a distant illustration of the classical case of Prussia’s Junkers that Max Weber (1977) analyzed close to a century ago. The Junkers then voiced anger against their lost status as a military aristocracy, in the eyes of state institutions. Weber found at that period that the Junkers had behaved in practice as rural capitalists, employing foreign manpower instead of adhering to their traditional aristocratic role of protecting their local population. He concluded that, to the extent that the Junkers themselves stopped behaving as an aristocracy dedicated to the general good, they could no longer aspire to privilege of any sort. The kibbutz too, in the eyes of officials, has similarly lost its right to preferential treatment, at a time when it is making its best efforts to distance itself from its historical commitment to a societal project. As a result, the kibbutz sector has no choice but to come to terms with its status as just one among many components of societal pluralism. Even those kibbutzim that have resolved to retain the “classic kibbutz” model, that is, the so-called collective kibbutzim, can hardly retain the status of a “vanguard”, since in most cases they are wealthy settlements that are not relevant to wider society. The FRCs adopted by most kibbutzim in recent years out of economic and demographic distress, bring to mind an analogy with the drama of Faust (2000) who sold his “soul” on the edge of death in return for a new life. One may see in kibbutzims’ renewal process a conscious sacrifice of central tenets in return for new material and social prospects. What supports this reference is that throughout our investigation revolving around the debates and implementations of FRCs, we did not overhear any expression of ideological concern. In all parties involved, we overheard only discussions of material and practical aspects. These developments contrast with what was reported on debates held in different eras, when other drastic changes were endorsed by kibbutzniks. We think here of

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the early 1980s when kibbutz children began sleeping overnight in their parent’s private apartments, abandoning the collective children’s houses. In almost every kibbutz, the move occasioned comprehensive debates on the meaning, effectiveness, and goals of collective education. One also learns from historical material about the harshness of ideological confrontations in the 1950s when the kibbutz movement was urged by the national leadership to accept hired labor in kibbutzim to provide jobs for new immigrants, to the detriment of the kibbutz principle of guaranteeing its income from its own labor, without exploiting outsiders – in accordance with its utopian vision (Kanter 1972). All these issues are very remote from present-day debates that mostly revolve around specific ambitions – with the exception, for a time, of a handful of supporters of the collective kibbutz. The fact that FRCs were quickly followed by economic and demographic achievements certainly imposed silence on ideological considerations. The benefits deriving from FRCs that soon became visible propagated their desirability and reached even some kibbutzim that had resolutely clung to the collective model. One may even use the word “epidemic”. It is undeniable that all these came at the cost of sacrificing what had long been most precious to many kibbutzniks – what they felt marked their distinctive social identity in Israel. If we follow the Faustian drama to its epilogue, the question then is whether we should anticipate a finale that opens onto a “happy” horizon or whether to expect at some time in future, the very end of the kibbutz? This query brings us back to our initial question: is today’s kibbutz sector experiencing a genuine transformation, i.e., a drastic change that is still anchored in its original orientation, or is it a revolution that has created a tabula rasa that has nothing in common with its past? We observed that even the most renewed kibbutz still retains a collectivistic calling, through the value of collective responsibility; that so far the community dimension and the obligation for consensus-building are vital nerves of the settlement’s future evolution; that despite the kibbutz movement’s loss of power and prestige among kibbutzniks, it is still a framework for dialogue and general debate. In other words, we believe that the notion of “kibbutz” is still pertinent for describing that reality. At the same time, we also acknowledge that kibbutzim today represent a society at risk – not so much because of a threatening environment, but due to their dependence on themselves and their members. They and they alone are responsible for retaining the last imprints of kibbutz culture still extant in kibbutzim. More than ever, the kibbutz experience is in



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the hands of its membership, and this singularizes both the uniqueness and the vulnerability of the kibbutz. One can easily find in these assessments a problématique that is significant for analyzing any pluralistic reality. They point out the crucial dependence of this kind of setting on its components, which, here more than elsewhere, are required to endorse cooperation so as to retain their common framework without silencing their differences and divergences. As confrontations are unavoidable, the permanent challenge is to withstand the attraction of jeopardizing the agreed rules of the social game. Pluralism does not respond simply to the description of this sociocultural diversity; it is engaged in its viability that is constantly at stake – and with it, the singularity of its actors that illustrates both its richness and its challenges. As far as the kibbutz is concerned, some threads still bind them to their past, entitling them to bear the label of kibbutz. Though, one certainly can no longer define these kibbutzim as carriers of a societal project, and in this respect contemporary kibbutzniks are definitely not continuators of their predecessors. The binding threads are too fragile. What still remains consists of given re-formulated values targeting the inner life of the communities. None the less, it is undeniable that even today kibbutzim compose a most interesting segment of Israel’s pluralistic society. The years ahead will reveal for how long.

EPILOGUE This volume brings up first new formulations now on our intellectual agenda in the realm of community schemes which aspire to give expression to far-reaching ambitions in terms of social justice and equality. Second, this volume presents selected aspects of what happens to the communal idea in the sociological and historical reality of our contem­ porary era. Social schemes inspired by utopian aspirations, it appears, are crosscut by hardships and tensions that push them toward dynamic processes which eventually come up to a negation of the utopian exigencies and their aspirations to a social harmony that would warrant individual happiness. The aspiration to such an ideal is, of course, universal and attached to the very human condition. It is not just the matter of a hand of “enlightened” individuals; it consists of experiments that try to construct a paradise on earth can be traced at all epochs. To cite only a few examples, religious communities and orders existed in the time of Judea, in High Middle-Ages as well as in the early times of the Reform. One also finds the same aspiration in the monastic spheres of Asian civilizations. In the modern era, probably more than in the past, – starting with utopian socialist experiments and religious communes –, these experiments were more or less explicitly influenced by ideologies enrolled in the building of a better society and the warranting of a spiritually meaningful life. Thomas More who invented, in 1516, the notion of utopia echoing very approximately from the distance Plato’s Respublica, was already preoccupied by these aspirations which became more salient and secular in the writings of the so-called “utopist socialists” – Saint-Simon, Fourrier, Owen and others. Ever since these writings, the ambition to set down here and now forms of social life, more particularly of communities, concretizing demanding social values has become a marker of the modern intellectual endeavor. Hence, the communal idea also became a banner for revolutionary parties like the anarchists and, though in another perspective, the socialist and communist movements. This importance of the aspiration to a “better society” in modernity but expresses that it constitutes a basic code relating to the assumption of this civilization that individuals’ and societies’ destinies are in their own hands. The importance of this code is confirmed by the wide interest

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exhibited not only by scholars attracted by the “unusual” but also by large circles for what happens in such socially and spiritually ambitious settings. And, indeed, the above has shown that minorities enrolled in structures and frames of life turned toward the communal idea are found not only throughout history but also throughout today’s globe moved whether by religious and spiritual convictions or by secular ideological perspectives. Actually, the very founders of the social sciences shared this preoccupation with the value dimension of societal reality – of today and tomorrow. Marx was convinced that the contradictions of modernity forward the advent of a society, communism, that would “end history”, a view that heralded, in some way, Fukuyama’s belief that history comes to its end with the world triumph of modern democracy. Durkheim also saw in “precontractual conditions” warranting solidarity and collective identification the foundation of social life which they alone make society through modernity possible. From a contrastive standpoint, Weber – and in his following, Schumpeter – forecasts the undesirable but ineluctable succession of capitalism by bureaucratic socialism. All three taught generations how to investigate society without bias, but they themselves did not hide, each one through his own perspective, their value preferences in terms of a “good life” and a “good society”. It is this preoccupation with the idea of a better social reality that we considered in the all above under the title of the communal idea. This idea that outlines in definite colors and profiles what are a “good life” and a “good society” and which does not leave indifferent neither thinkers and scholars nor wider publics. This idea, as also demonstrated in this volume, however conveys a quality that is not most usual. Whatever the hardship that its concretization implies according to circumstances, once it does materialize into social facts, it cannot, as such avoid new challenges, factors of tensions, alterations of organizational schemes and unexpected claims on the side of individuals and categories of individuals. This means, at varying degrees, negations of, and removals from, the “utopian inspiration” at the benefit of practical considerations or of new perspectives emerging in the newly created conditions of life. In other words, the utopian inspiration – whatever its precise contents – is doomed, in one way or another, to self-betrayal through its very materialization. The very concretization of the utopian inspiration disqualifies it as utopian. No social reality – however utopian – can escape negation of utopianism through alienation from original schemes. Humans, to be sure, are able to create unprecedented conditions of life under most ambitious inspirations, but are, at the same time, unable to safeguard them from change and

epilogue325 alterations, nay even tensions and contradictions. In this, however, another peculiar aspect of the utopian inspiration, or utopism, is that once it is betrayed by its own practice, it leaves room for new utopist thinking and enrolment, whether by challenging the shortcomings of predecessors or – as we have seen in several chapters of this book – by offering new – more or less ambitious – schemes. As far, indeed, the utopian inspiration draws its vitality from basic and potent civilizational codes, its renewal from ashes is as unavoidable as its self-betrayal through materialization. Anyway, speaking of the concretization of the communal idea in terms of “end of history” appears as inept. These pages have shown that behaviors, structures or claims that were apprehended as problematic and assumed to be avoided in communities inspired by utopia are capable of seeping in and achieve recognition. New issues implying them too, situations that were not forecast by original perspectives push collectives to give up these primary objectives and to endorse new means and ends. Eventually, communities draw from their experience the will to embark on the transformation of their ways of life. On the other hand, the praxis itself of the communal idea, the contours of its concretizations at given moments and its further developments attract public attention: in contemporary society, after all, equality and sharing are by no means foreign values. The very reality of these concretizations in society – and the challenges they confront and the transformations they illustrate – cannot but fuel debates about the validity of those values. Paradoxically, this in turn may contribute – in one way or another – to their general actuality. It may well be suggested that it is when the communal idea gets less radical in its tangible realizations and is brought to compromise with other drives that it appears as beneficial to social actors that were originally remote from it but may now find it a relevant source of inspiration in specific respects and in view of given objectives. Scholars who explore the “career” of the utopia-inspired experiments themselves propose diverse hypotheses. Some speak of the iron law of oligarchy which does not skip over communities; others speak of the development of the family which set the communal idea at an unchallengeable test; still others bring forward sociological rules attached to size of groups or differentiation of status. All these challenge the variegated concretizations of the communal idea, but this idea that directly draws from the universal aspiration to justice and solidarity remains with us. This was true in the past, and as shown by this volume, is still case at the start of the second decade of the 21st century.

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INDEX Alternative Economic Strategy (AES) 178 Anabaptists 15, 155, 241, 244–246 Aurelia 192 Australia 9, 12, 13, 45, 48, 75, 79, 85, 114, 189–204, 224 Ben-Rafael Committee, public 304 Bruderhof, Danthonia 113, 121, 124, 126, 127, 149, 201, 247, 248 Camp David, aka Palatinate of Canaan 199 Capitalism 1, 4, 9, 10, 94, 95, 98–105, 100n10, 102n12, 107–109, 141, 146, 177, 180, 195, 324 Castra 192 Charismatic leader 14, 15, 160, 192, 228, 239 Chidlean Home, aka Chidley Nature culturists 196 Children’s farm 290 Children’s home 16, 17, 283, 284, 286, 295, 296, 298 Children’s society 286 Christian communes 159, 199, 221, 223, 238, 239 Christian settlement 222, 225, 240 CID. See Common interest development (CID) Cohousing 4, 7–9, 13, 33, 34, 37, 43, 45–48, 57–59, 57n5, 57n6, 74, 79–83, 86–89, 103, 115, 148, 155, 156, 201–204 Collective education 16, 17, 281, 283–285, 291, 294, 296, 298, 319, 320 Collective labor 167 Common interest development (CID) 163, 164n5 Communal, communalism 3, 4, 6, 7, 9, 11, 33–53, 63, 64, 66–68, 73–89, 119, 120, 124, 128, 129, 162, 189, 201 Communal culture 208 Communal living-idea of temporary 168, 169 Communal socialism 8, 46, 94, 100, 104–109 Communes, hippies 6, 9, 11, 33, 57, 99, 117, 119, 169

Communitarianism authoritarian 21–24, 23n2 responsive 2, 21–24, 23n2, 26, 31, 120 theory 5, 21, 24, 25, 29 Communities building 5, 21, 27–30, 86, 129, 134, 135, 145, 147, 225, 233, 234, 272 dystopian 70 home of goods 123, 194 intentional 4, 6, 7, 9–13, 33, 34, 36–38, 42, 43, 48, 51–72, 74, 78–81, 84, 97, 113–124, 128, 129, 145, 147–150, 152–160, 162, 168, 189, 190, 193, 194, 196–204, 207, 208, 213 Cooperative food purchasing 167 home 194 housing 56, 62, 156, 164n6 religious institutions 166 services 166, 167 Danthonia Bruderhof. See Bruderhof, Danthonia Dariusleut 241, 242 Day care center 284, 290, 292, 296, 298, 299 Democracy, deliberative 27, 28 Developmental communalism 6, 33–53, 64, 66–68 Early Christians 15, 191, 238 East-West synthesis 30, 31 Ecology crisis 50 economy of 83 Ecovillage 1, 4, 9, 13, 33, 34, 37, 45–48, 58, 58n7, 59, 67, 115, 148, 155–157, 199, 201, 202, 204 Education field experiment 291, 294 for work 16, 281, 289, 290, 293, 298 Egalitarian ideology 271, 279 Empowerment 4, 12, 49, 81n7, 100, 185, 266 End of Days 227, 229, 233 End of history 21, 30, 133, 142, 325

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Environmental motivation 200 Equality; of opportunities 272 Evangelical 15, 193, 199, 231–233, 238, 240 Faultline trap 271, 275–279 Faustian syndrome 318–321 Federation of Egalitarian Communities 36, 122, 125 Federative Home 194 Fellowship for Intentional Community 9, 11, 43, 52, 115–117, 124, 148, 157, 162, 168 Feminism/feminist 16, 36, 66, 122, 136, 162, 163, 250, 269–279, 313 Foreign policy 32 Fukuyama, Francis 27, 30, 31n6, 133, 324 Functionalism 28–30 Gated community 56, 58, 58n8, 164, 170 Gender blindness 271, 272 equality 6, 16, 33, 42, 122, 197, 244, 250, 251, 265, 269–272, 275–279 stereotypes 271 trap 271 Global civil society 21, 27 Hutter, Jacob 245 Hutterites colony 155, 241, 243, 244, 246, 247, 250, 254, 263, 266 Hutterian Brethren 15, 241, 245, 248, 248n2 ICD. See International Communes Desk (ICD) ICSA. See International Communal Studies Association (ICSA) Identity 3, 14, 15, 22, 75, 76, 117, 134, 138, 174, 175, 207, 208, 210, 218–220, 241, 271, 305, 314, 318, 320 Indiana Institution 190, 190n3 Individualism 3, 10, 11, 13, 31, 74, 76, 81, 119, 120, 126, 128, 129, 131, 146, 147, 151, 158, 178, 205, 213–217 Inequality 132, 174, 176, 176n1, 177, 252–257, 264, 272, 274, 275, 277, 317 International Communal Studies Association (ICSA) 34n1, 51, 115, 157, 158, 160 International Communes Desk (ICD) 115 International relations 5, 9, 21, 24–26, 29, 113 Job quality bad 172, 174 good 174, 181

Kibbutz collective 273, 302, 304, 309, 314, 316, 319, 320 communities 269–271, 273, 275, 277–279, 286, 307, 317 education 16, 17, 281–300, 303 renewing 17, 302, 304, 307, 312–316, 318–320 school 286, 287, 289, 293, 295, 303, 312 status 228 Land 14, 29, 38, 39, 70, 80, 83, 84, 99, 125, 146, 151, 159, 190–193, 190n3, 195–197, 197n6, 200, 207–212, 217, 221–223, 225, 227, 228, 230, 232, 233, 235, 236, 238–240, 242, 266 Leader 12, 14, 15, 22, 40, 47, 54, 64, 66, 85, 99, 120, 127, 136, 138, 148, 151, 159, 160, 176, 192, 196, 198, 200, 210, 213, 217, 219, 221–225, 227–230, 232, 234, 236, 237, 239, 245, 251, 255, 257, 258, 260, 263, 266, 283, 285, 286, 294, 294n2, 297, 300, 304, 305, 308, 314 Lehrerleut traditional 241, 242, 249, 252 Liberals 3, 15, 21–23, 82, 104, 133, 178, 181, 185, 241, 242, 251, 252, 255, 265, 292 Libertarianism 23 Managers 77, 177, 242, 250, 251, 275, 303, 310, 312 Manor 196 Matriculation exams 287, 288, 293, 294 Messianic Jews 14, 221–240 Moral dialogues 21, 22, 27, 28, 30 Mosad 287 Moshav 222, 224–227, 229–231, 238, 239 Movement 1, 2, 6, 8–11, 13, 14, 33–51, 53, 57, 61, 62, 64–68, 78, 82, 84, 89, 93n5, 94, 94n6, 95, 97–99, 98n9, 103, 104, 113–115, 117, 122, 124, 126, 127, 132–134, 136, 137, 141, 150, 154–157, 170, 178, 198, 219–221, 232, 234, 236, 276, 277, 279, 281, 286, 287, 289, 290, 292, 293, 295, 297, 301–304, 306–308, 313–316, 319, 320, 323 New age 37, 59, 60, 104, 118, 195, 200 New education (movement) 281, 287, 295 New Zealand 12, 13, 45, 65, 72n11, 79, 114, 189–204 Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) 25 Old System 21, 24–26 Order of the Golden Dawn 196 Oxfam Humankind Index 181, 185

index351 Pacifism 15, 37, 44, 114, 123, 196 Paradigm shift 73 Partial members 301, 311, 312, 317 Pitfalls 270–272 Pluralism, Harvard definition of 306 Polarisation thesis 180 Political 4, 6–9, 13, 22, 23, 23n2, 25, 26, 34, 41, 50, 51, 55, 59, 60, 64, 71, 76, 81, 82, 85, 85n9, 91, 92n2, 93–97, 93n4, 99, 102, 104, 105, 107, 109, 114, 132, 134, 135, 137, 139–141, 150, 197–199, 203, 207–209, 212, 216–220, 228, 239, 240, 246, 277, 279, 302, 305, 315 Postmodernism 118, 119 Quality of life 11, 13, 87, 164, 205, 208, 219, 289, 317 Rational choice 27, 135 Reaganism 31 Reconstruction 220 Recovery 316, 317 Residents 41, 45, 78–80, 82, 97, 103n13, 152, 156, 160, 169, 190, 191, 202, 226, 231, 301, 310–313, 317 Responsibility collective 55, 247, 276, 298, 303, 320 mutual 307 Restoration of Israel 15, 227, 230, 238, 240 Rideman, Peter 245–248 Risk society 307, 317, 318 Roots Assembly 12, 191 Salaries 12, 167, 173, 275, 301, 303, 304, 309, 311, 316, 317 Schmiedeleut 241–244, 251–253, 254n4, 255, 264–266 Self government 208 Settlement house 161 Shalam aka Universal Brotherhood 198 Sleeping arrangement collective 281–284, 286, 292, 294, 295, 297 family 284, 289, 291 Social actors 308, 311, 325 Social capital 2, 13, 76, 76n5, 208 Social change 10, 50, 77, 81, 82, 95, 147, 174, 278 Social cohesion 11, 82, 86, 161, 164

Socialism 1, 8, 9, 12, 13, 46, 91–101, 103–109, 104n13, 133, 140, 142, 154, 162, 167, 189, 193–195, 198, 246, 324 Social motivation 195 Social relationships 24, 77, 97, 117, 129, 213 Social ties 11, 78, 161 Solidarity 2, 12, 34, 50–52, 98, 118, 120, 121, 131, 132, 136, 205–208, 210, 212–220, 225, 317, 324, 325 Spatial mismatch 274 Spinster Land Association 192 Supranationality 21, 24–27, 29 Sustainability 73, 83, 139, 142, 184 Temporary autonomous zones (TAZ) 60 Thatcherism 31 Third sector 106 Tradition/traditional 7, 10, 13, 14, 24, 42, 53, 59, 60, 71, 75, 77, 81, 82, 85, 87, 91, 92, 102, 103n13, 127, 131–135, 137, 145, 148, 150, 166, 167, 173, 178, 182, 184, 205–223, 230, 242, 243, 248, 250, 252, 253, 265, 266, 269, 276, 277, 281, 296, 300, 301, 303, 305, 306, 310, 312, 316, 319 Transformation 7, 16, 17, 53, 67, 70, 73, 74, 81, 89, 168, 301, 320, 325 Transnationalism 5, 21, 24–28, 30, 32 Tribal motivation 216 Utopianism 34n3, 53, 62, 64, 67–71, 324 Utopia, Utopian vision 4, 9, 13, 34n1, 50, 51, 55, 55n3, 62, 67, 69–71, 85, 93, 106, 113, 128, 129, 149, 190, 195, 196, 306, 320, 323, 325 Virtual community 61, 108 Wirawidar 195 Women 16, 24, 43, 49, 59, 65, 101, 121–123, 127, 131, 132, 134, 136, 142, 146, 163, 168, 173, 174, 179, 180, 182, 191, 195, 196, 200, 213, 216, 241–266, 269–279, 284, 303 Work first 171, 172, 175, 180, 185 Working Life 178 Youth culture 281, 285, 286, 297, 300 Youth society 16, 285, 286, 298 Zionism 226, 238, 281, 286, 289