A Living Revolution: afterword to the 2018 French edition

by James Horrox

« Dix ans après ». Afterword to Le mouvement des kibboutz et l’anarchie – Une révolution vivante, Philippe Blouin (trans.), Paris: Éditions de l’Éclat, 2018

In the winter of 2011, around two years after this book was first published, the American magazine Dissent ran a controversial article by Russell Jacoby, professor of history at UCLA, eviscerating a recent book by the Marxist sociologist Erik Olin Wright entitled Envisioning Real Utopias. One of Jacoby’s complaints about Wright’s study was that, in its mission to examine the lessons to be drawn from the experiences of actually-existing ‘utopian’ societies, it failed to mention one particular commune network which had, for most of the twentieth century, been widely regarded as the world’s most successful example of such a society. Israel’s kibbutz movement, Jacoby suggests, is a subject that would seem to call out to the author of a book on ‘real utopias’. “After all, the kibbutz is a ‘real utopia’ with a socialist ethos and decades of practice. Are there lessons to be found here?”

Jacoby’s incredulity is not misplaced. For decades, outsiders looked to these communities as an example of how society could be organised along more egalitarian lines, and the vast body of sociological literature produced on them over the last century attests to a widespread appreciation of their relevance in furthering the general understanding of real-world attempts to challenge the ‘natural’ state of capitalist social and economic relations, and envisioning how a viable alternative might look. And yet you would struggle to find much, if any substantive discussion of the kibbutz in the books on utopian experiments, ‘prefigurative politics’ and ‘constructive activism’ being produced by the current generation of left-leaning writers.

It seems almost inconceivable today that anarchists were ever among those who looked to the kibbutzim for ideas and practices that could be borrowed for the betterment of their own societies. Although there have been no exhaustive studies of the kibbutz movement’s relationship with anarchism, however, many writers in the anarchist tradition, some of whom have been referenced in this book, have at some point or another taken an interest in the kibbutz. In the preface to two lengthy case studies published in 1963 in the French journal Noir et Rouge, organ of the Groupes Anarchistes d’Action Révolutionnaire, the editor notes that the kibbutzim “present for us a great interest” as an example of anarchist ideas in action. “It is important that communitarian and cooperative examples are understood, the kibbutzim among others, in the same way as the communitarian realisations during the Spanish Civil War, and isolated attempts throughout the world at free and productive communes”. In 1962, the British anarchist newspaper Freedom featured an account of kibbutz life (also included in the 1983 book Why Work?, edited by Vernon Richards), which described the kibbutz as “the nearest thing to practising anarchism that exists”. Colin Ward, active in Freedom’s editorial collective, in his postscript to a 1974 edition of Fields, Factories and Workshops highlights similarities between the kibbutz and Kropotkin’s vision of what an anarchistic society might look like, placing them among the very small number of “actual human societies which exemplify the ideas set [out by] Kropotkin in this book”. Eco-anarchist Graham Purchase wrote that the kibbutz was “exactly the sort of modern communal village/small town life which Kropotkin had envisaged”. George Woodcock’s seminal history of anarchism lists the kibbutzim among the anarchistic “movements that […] have risen encouragingly in resistance to the totalitarian trend”, and in a pamphlet entitled The Basis of Communal Living, also published by Freedom Press, Woodcock gives a more detailed account of the kibbutz alongside vignettes on the Spanish collectives and the English Digger movement.

German anarchist Augustin Souchy saw the kibbutz as one of the two “most important” practical experiments in workers’ control and self-management, the other being the collectives during the Spanish Civil War, concluding that the kibbutz is “very like Kropotkin’s communist anarchism”. Emma Goldman took an interest back in the early days of the movement, as did Sam Dolgoff and of course Gustav Landauer, whose intellectual contribution to the kibbutz movement I have discussed. Ursula Le Guin used the kibbutz way of life as inspiration for the anarchist society of Anarres in her novel The Dispossessed. They are alluded to in Stuart Christie and Albert Meltzer’s The Floodgates of Anarchy and Jason Adams’ Non-Western Anarchisms. Alfredo Bonanno furnishes the early kibbutzim with backhanded approbation in his otherwise idiotic pamphlet Palestine, Mon Amour!, and of course Noam Chomsky, speaking of the brief period he spent at Kibbutz HaZorea in 1953, argued that the kibbutz “was a functioning and very successful libertarian community”.

Chomsky is an interesting case, if only given the status he continues to enjoy among the current generation of self-styled ‘radicals’. In an interview with the BBC’s Peter Jay in 1976, asked whether there have been any sustained examples on any substantial scale of societies that have approximated the anarchist ideal, Chomsky replies: “the most dramatic example is perhaps the Israeli kibbutzim, which for a long period really were constructed on anarchist principles: that is, self-management, direct worker control, integration of agriculture, industry, service, personal participation in self-management. And they were […] extraordinarily successful by almost any measure that one can impose”. Despite the changes engendered by their integration into the State after 1948, Chomsky concludes, “as functioning libertarian socialist institutions […] they are an interesting model that is highly relevant to advanced industrial societies in a way in which some of the other examples that have existed in the past are not”.

These days, it is rather extraordinary to hear such statements from someone as highly regarded in anarchist and radical left circles as Chomsky. Indeed, Chomsky himself, having been one of the kibbutz’s most prominent anarchist cheerleaders for much of his career, has been strangely silent on the subject for the last two decades.[1] A charitable appraisal might have some sympathy for the claim that the decline of collectivism in the kibbutzim since the 1980s has contributed to their disappearance from the discourse of the people who regard themselves as modern day keepers of the anarchist flame. But the studies still being produced on current developments in the kibbutz movement, largely by Israeli academics and/or those working in the niche and rather cliquey fields of ‘communal studies’ or ‘Jewish studies’, undermine any assertion that today’s kibbutzim, unrecognisable as they are from the communities of the 1920s and 1930s, are devoid of relevance. Indeed, one might reasonably imagine that if anarchists were genuinely interested in learning from the experiences of ‘real utopias’, then the process of privatisation in the kibbutz would be of as much interest as their earlier successes, and perhaps even that the new communes that have emerged in response to these trends would be a focus of attention.

As it is, while there’s plenty still being written about the kibbutz, and plenty of academic studies still being conducted, the current generation of anarchist writers, for all their claims of being interested in learning from real-world examples of participatory economics, workplace democracy and so forth, are not doing them. In these circles, a servile conformism and quasi-religious fixation on a fetishised, cartoon version of the struggle for Jewish national self-determination from which the kibbutz arose, and a strictly-enforced anacusis to the history of anti-authoritarian voices in that struggle, have placed the kibbutz firmly out of bounds as an object of study, in the face of vigorous exertions by the evangelists of this new religion to calumniate any view which fails to conform to the caricatures enforced in its own official narrative.

In the contemporary worlds of anarchist scholarship and activism, to show or be suspected of showing even a whiff of complicity with Jewish aspirations of national liberation is the ultimate crime, to be accused of which is to be convicted. The familiar slogans and clichés that provide the foundational claims of this dogma, although consisting more often than not in merely assuming what has to be proved, are beyond criticism. When it comes to the kibbutzim, a sweeping assertion (“but they were Zionist”) is blithely followed with the words “for this reason…,” as if any necessary logical work had been done merely by making the assertion. Simply prefixing the word ‘kibbutz’ with the word ‘Zionist’ is now enough to close off any discussion of whether there might be something to be learned from the way of life within those communities, or indeed from the anti-statist aspirations of many of their founders. Thus, while it has become perfectly acceptable for anarchists and leftists to stand in “solidarity” with institutionally racist, misogynistic, homophobic, totalitarian death cults[2], ‘kibbutz’ takes its place among the trigger words guaranteed to send these same people spinning into a vortex of pious condemnation.

It is in no party’s interests to admit that anarchist ideologies played a role in the early years of Jewish immigration to Palestine; not the right-wing Zionist establishment, and certainly not the academic and activist orthodoxies whose anti-Israel narrative has come to dominate left-wing thinking across the West. To concede that Zionism wasn’t always about racism, colonialism and the dispossession of the Palestinian Arabs is to concede that it is not, in fact, the monstrous monism that current received wisdom portrays it to be (a caricature endorsed by far-left and far-right with striking complicity), but rather a diverse set of competing ideas and ideologies, many of which were and are completely antithetical to the stereotypes and distortions on which today’s anarchists’ knowledge of Zionist history seems to be based. It is arguable, however, that even if the Jewish struggle for self-determination did equal any of the ‘-isms’ with which it is often unquestioningly equated, this would be of limited relevance to whether the kibbutz, internally, contained working models of systems and practices that might validate some of the ideas anarchists have historically only been able to talk about in the abstract, and which, moreover, could be drawn upon and put to use in other contexts. In a post-truth world, however, where for many anarchists the term is little more than a marker of a tribal affiliation, where truth is judged on a market of opinion, and the hysterical moralising of anti-Israel clickbait-peddlers holds greater validity than a century of peer-reviewed scholarship, the priority for many on the left is not building a better society, but simply maintaining their place in the tribe and the sense of comfort, security and moral cleanliness it provides.

History has given lie to Buber’s optimism for the kibbutz movement as an “experiment that did not fail”. It is equally true that the kibbutzim have at times been complicit in some atrocious wrongdoings. But none of this has any bearing whatsoever on the reality that these communities, for all their many flaws, survived for the best part of a century as a working model of voluntary participatory economy and polity on a scale never achieved before or since, anywhere else in the world. This achievement needs to be taken seriously. To do so, all that is required is the ability simply to say “and” rather than “but”. It’s not difficult. Even Chomsky seems at one time to have been able to do it. HaZorea, the kibbutz he described as “a functioning and very successful libertarian community”, was built, in part, on lands once belonging to an Arab village. There is no contradiction in recognising both realities.

Society has good reason to pay attention to what J.S. Mill called ‘experiments in living’. But where the kibbutz was once viewed as fertile ground for research, not just by socialists and anarchists, but in practically every social science discipline from management studies to early childhood studies, to suggest them as such today in certain Western academic and activist circles is simply not worth the inevitable recriminations. Thus, an entire avenue of social inquiry is effectively placed off limits, and moreover, a sinister trend towards a historical revisionism is allowed to develop whereby early voices that may well have a part to play in finding a way out of the current impasse in the Middle East are slowly but surely being written out of history. With their disappearance, so too are lessons from one of the most successful and long-lasting ‘experiments in living’ of the entire modern period gradually being purged from the record.

* * *

In Israel, it’s a slightly different story. Since this book was first published, against a backdrop of rightward shifts in Israeli politics the new urban communes discussed in its penultimate chapter have, perhaps rather improbably, gone from strength to strength. I spent much of my 20s working closely with members of these communities[3], and although, with the best will in the world I can’t honestly claim to share much of their politics these days, their evolution from precarious groups of idealistic youth into what is now to all intents and purposes a ‘new kibbutz movement’ nonetheless makes for a fascinating story. For while anarchists and the far left generally no longer concern themselves in any meaningful way with positive endeavours to create a better world, instead being mostly content with internecine bickering and the politics of ‘resistance’ and denunciation[4], these communities are working, day to day, to establish a new social structure at the grass-roots, based on communal asset ownership and direct democracy, while delivering crucial local-level welfare and service provision in their surroundings.

Kehillot Shachaf, the umbrella body under which Israel’s activist communes now operate, currently estimates their combined membership to be somewhere in the region of 9000. This figure is slightly problematic given that the communities encompassed by Shachaf include many that are not like, say, Kvutsat Yovel and the Tnuat Bogrim kvutzot, or indeed the Urban Kibbutzim and the various other independent urban communes that once operated under the aegis of Magal HaKvutzot. Nevertheless, over the last ten years, the communal ‘scene’ in Israel has expanded to the point where in some areas, through the nonprofit organisations the communities have established, they now have as much, if not more involvement than the State in key areas of social policy delivery.

To be clear: these are not anarchist communities. They don’t see themselves as such (although they occasionally use the term “anarcho-socialist” to describe their way of life), and they certainly aren’t seen by Israel’s self-identified anarchists as comrades in their “struggles”. The Tnuat Bogrim kvutzot in particular adopt a staunchly socialist Zionist outlook; they support left wing politicians in the Knesset, their members serve in the IDF (though some refuse to serve in the Occupied Territories[5]), and they treat any calls for a ‘no-state’ or ‘one state’ solution to the larger question of the Israel-Palestine conflict with the utmost suspicion. However, all that being said, elements of the way of life they have created have strong echoes not just of the intimate kibbutzim of the 1920s, but also of certain ideas and practices that are now commonplace in anarchist discourse.

The major trend in the Tnuat Bogrim communities over the past two decades, and especially those of HaNoar HaOved VeHaLomed, has been the grouping together of kvutzot into ‘kibbutzim of kvutzot’[6], a new kind of community which effectively combines the two competing conceptions of communalism—kvutza and kibbutz—that emerged during the Second and Third Aliyot. This process has entailed the development of innovative and in many cases extraordinarily complex forms of participatory democracy, designed to retain the primacy of the small group (kvutza) within the framework of the larger kibbutz, and in so doing, obviate the authoritarian governance that many kibbutzniks in the latter half of the twentieth century came to see as stifling personal freedom in the original kibbutzim. In this new model, while the individual kvutza functions internally as an intimate, often consensus-driven mini-community, the kibbutz as a whole, by distributing deliberative agency as widely as possible across its constituent kvutzot, seeks to strike a balance of participation and representation in a governance model capable of attaining consensus, or something as close to it as possible, across a community often comprising upwards of 100 members.

Direct participation in all areas of daily life and engagement of all members in the decision-making process means that the collective remains the ultimate authority of community governance, but rather than a General Assembly being the central democratic institution, kibbutz decision-making is spread across a variety of diffuse consulting and executive groups, and ultimately it is the individual kvutza, through its power of veto, that has the final say on any given motion. This emphasis on the kvutza as the primary decision-making unit, the intimacy of communal relations at all levels of the kibbutz, communalisation of finances, direct democracy and the absence of differential salaries combine to subvert stratification, centralisation of power and the emergence of formal elites. Communal study, deemed a crucial pillar of community life, acts to ward off the formation of knowledge elites, and family, kvutza and kibbutz theoretically operate in combination with one another to prevent the collective’s control over the individual from becoming “total.”

Much of this is based very consciously on the underlying desire “not to end up like the old kibbutzim”. So, where the classic kibbutz emphasised ‘equality’ – a term which, for many kibbutz children of the 1950s, ‘60s and ‘70s came to be synonymous with majoritarian tyranny – the kibbutz of kvutzot is based on the values of shituf (or shituf pe’ula; lit. ‘cooperation in work’; i.e., ‘partnership’). This is a communalism that attempts to reconcile individual sovereignty with social responsibility in a community built on reciprocal, face-to-face relationships possible only in small social units in which camaraderie and everyday mutual aid can flourish. A dialogical communalism designed very much with Buber in mind, and evocative also of the seidlung (settlement) advocated by Gustav Landauer, it seeks to ensure that the community does not, and cannot assume an autonomous existence above and beyond its individual members, and actively resists such a dynamic by constantly interrogating from below any attempt to impose structure from above.

The evolution of these communities is particularly interesting given that their creators draw explicitly from the social theories that arrived in Palestine from Central European Romantic-libertarian circles during the Second and Third Aliyot. Their libraries house thousands of books on the early Jewish labour movement, and community discussions draw on a diverse array of sources from that period, including Martin Buber’s dialogical philosophy, the Nietzschean existentialism of A.D. Gordon, the writings of Yitzhak Tabenkin, Joseph Baratz, Marxist Zionist ideologues Moses Hess, Nachman Syrkin, Ber Borochov and Berl Katznelson, socialist literary figures such as Yosef Haim Brenner and Haim Nahman Bialik, and the works of the kibbutz pioneers of the 1920s and 30s inspired by the anarchism of Gustav Landauer. Significantly, given their long absence from the kibbutz movement, both Landauer and Kropotkin are also back on the syllabus.

There are also more personal channels between these communes and anarchist elements in kibbutz history. One notable figure in this respect is Muki Tsur, a friend and pupil of Gershom Scholem, who only received a brief mention in this book but who has been a prominent figure in the kibbutz movement for more than half a century. A former secretary of the movement, Tsur was also a key player in the Shdemot circle – the group of intellectuals who attempted to reintroduce the ideas of Landauer and Buber into the kibbutzim in the 1960s. In the 1990s he was one of the movement luminaries suggesting that the anarchist philosophies that informed the intimate kibbutz of the Second and Third Aliyot could hold constructive possibilities in determining the future of the movement. Tsur has been something of an éminence grise in the new communal scene and one of the figures from the ‘old’ kibbutz movement most vocal in his support of the new movement. His championing of the communities and his involvement in their cultural and intellectual life, as well as the ubiquity of his writings in their educational literature, alongside articles from the Shdemot journal, sections of the Kehillatenu diaries, and copious other materials in a similar vein, reiterate the ideal of a rule-free community, exemplified by the kvutzot of the Second and Third Aliya, as a template for communal life.

The same can be said of Chaim Seeligmann, another voice in the discussions of the 1990s suggesting that a reconsideration of the kibbutz’s anarchist roots could help reinvigorate a kibbutz movement by then mired in crisis, and another major figure in the life of the new kibbutzim. Seeligmann, who passed away in 2009, arrived in Palestine in the mid-1930s having been a member of the Kadima youth movement in Europe. A member of Kibbutz Givat Brenner at Rechovot, south of Tel Aviv, he wrote extensively about anarchism, in particular Gustav Landauer, Erich Mühsam and Bernard Lazare, and was an expert on the role of anarchist ideologies in the early kibbutzim, which he would discuss at length with members of the new kvutzot.

My point here is not that, just because the new kibbutzniks read and talk about Landauer and Kropotkin they should somehow be considered anarchists. The relevance of these connections lies, rather, in the particular relationship with the past that they imply. The builders of the new kibbutz communities are drawing on a narrative already at the heart of Israel’s national ethos, albeit one buried, muddled and perverted in post-1948 Israeli myth-making. At the core of their approach is the belief that, while some aspects of the past can and should be looked to as examples of how not to build a community, the experiences of the ‘real utopias’ of the past contain valuable lessons that may well be able to help bring about a more just and equitable society in the present and future. Drawing from the rich well of Jewish utopian thought through their subjective but collective study of its history and mythology, however eisegetical these endeavours may sometimes be, they see themselves as tapping into, reinvigorating and building on the synthesis of social struggle and grass-roots community-building that has historically been a defining feature of the Jewish labour movement, and in so doing, reviving the classic conception of the commune as both a carrier of national challenges and a model, in microcosm, of the revolutionary utopia. Being grounded in the image of an existing social form and embedded in a historical and cultural narrative with relatively widespread legitimacy in their external environment provides a focus and reading grid for their day-to-day activities, but it is also an important factor of the rapid efflorescence of the renewal of the collective idea in Israel, and the relative ease with which the new communities seem to have integrated into Israel’s political landscape.

The Tnuat Bogrim kvutzot and their kibbutzim of kvutzot are just one among many different models of urban communalism that have grown up in Israel in reaction to the failures of the original kibbutzim. These groups are in many ways the backbone of the current communal landscape, but the last two decades have seen a groundswell of non-movement-affiliated communes forming in their image (and that of the Urban Kibbutzim), attempting to create alternative ways of life on the social periphery while working in grassroots social projects in their surroundings. Many of these are in some ways more ‘anarchic’ than the Tnuat Bogrim kvutzot – not affiliated to any movement structure, less regimented in their internal practices, less stringent in their admission criteria, less ideologically-focused, and with loosely formed democratic institutions in place of the intricate mechanisms of participatory democracy seen in the Tnuat Bogrim communities. All, however, are united by their attempt to build the foundations of a new order by providing a communal environment in which their members feel able to develop freely as individuals, while at the same time existing as an urban base from which to engage in day to day social action in their surroundings.

This utopianism is not based on blueprints for a perfect society of the future; nor, on the other hand, is it compatible with postmodern cynicism toward abstract universalism. And it certainly has little in common with those on the left whose contribution to the amelioration of society begins and ends with the mechanical repetition of moralistic clichés and uncritical idolisation of whatever fetishised minority happens to be uniquely-victimised-group-du-jour. Rather, these communes are an expression of a ‘here and now’ existence, anchored, integrated and developed through study of the experiences of their predecessors, grounding an orientation toward ‘building the future in the present’ currently prevalent in Western anarchist discourse to an institution that is uniquely and archetypally Israeli. The result is a constructive activism consistent with the historic centrality of collective endeavour and communal living in the Israeli national consciousness, and of grassroots, non-governmental organisations in the country’s development.

Against the backdrop of the substantial legacy of workers’ control in Israel, it behoves us to take seriously the efforts of those exploring how radical traditions in the country’s history could be drawn upon in finding solutions to contemporary social problems, illuminating the possibilities in working together towards mutual aid, cooperation and self-management for developing viable, contextualised and sustainable alternatives to the status quo. Whether or not they have a role to play in shaping the larger regional context, for the rest of us they provide insight into questions that lie at the core of contemporary debates about the prospects of long-term alternatives to dominant organisational models. What kinds of values would such alternatives promote? How would decisions be made? What role for managers? Leaders? Hierarchies? All of these are questions that the creators of ‘real utopias’ through the ages, the kibbutzim among others, have sought to address. Invariably they never do realise the utopia they initially envisaged, but as J.S. Mill quite rightly believed, they are not something that should be casually dismissed. Every now and again, whether by accident or design, they may just end up building something better than what came before.

James Horrox
Los Angeles, November 2017

[1] The kibbutzim are mentioned in some of Chomsky’s later interviews, but only in passing. He has talked at slightly more length about the anti-statist aspirations of a “substantial part of the [pre-1948] Kibbutz movement”, including Hashomer Hatzair, who hoped for a Palestine based on “Arab-Jewish, working-class cooperation in a bi-national community: no state, no Jewish state, just Palestine”. This is unusual, given the general tendency to see the early kibbutzim solely as builders of the Israeli State and complicit in a unilinear path to the inevitable dispossession of the region’s incumbent population. For more on Chomsky’s views on this, see (e.g.) “A portrait of Chomsky as a young Zionist: Noam Chomsky interviewed by Gabriel Matthew Schivone”, New Voices, Nov. 2011 [online].

[2] See e.g. “Judith Butler on Hamas, Hezbollah & the Israel Lobby”, Radical Archives, March 28th 2010 [online]. It is also worth noting a statement made by AK Press author Michael Neumann in 2002: “If an effective strategy [for helping the Palestinians] means that some truths about the Jews don’t come to light, I don’t care. If an effective strategy means encouraging reasonable anti-Semitism, or reasonable hostility to Jews, I also don’t care. If it means encouraging vicious, racist anti-Semitism […] I still don’t care.” I have seen nothing to suggest that this is not a fairly widely held, if mostly unspoken viewpoint in anarchist and radical left circles in the US and the UK, although those involved will – and regularly find themselves having to – dispute this.

[3] See Horrox, J. The New Israeli Socialism: An Ethnographic Study of Israel’s Urban Communal Scene (Ph.D. thesis, 2011). For an overview of the evolution of the urban communes up to 2011, see Horrox J. “City Communes in Israel”, Communal Societies, vol.31 no.2, Autumn 2011, pp.21-44.

[4] A “negative symbolic enterprise concerned primarily with asserting innocence”, argues David Hirsh in an excellent paper on ‘the politics of position vs. the politics of reason’, published in Fathom in the autumn of 2015 [online]. The article focuses on the rise of the ‘regressive left’ faction around Jeremy Corbyn in the United Kingdom, but its main points are equally applicable to contemporary anarchist milieux. Michel Maffesoli’s Le temps des tribus, le déclin de l’individualisme dans les sociétés de masse is also essential background.

[5] Yovel’s Anton Marks spent time in a military prison in 2002 for refusing to serve in the West Bank during his military service. Reflecting a practice brought into mainstream Israeli discourse by several prominent instances in the early 2000s, Marks’s explanation echoes the ‘Combat Troops’ Letter’ of January 2002, signed by 51 reservists declaring their refusal “to fight beyond the 1967 borders in order to dominate, expel, starve and humiliate an entire people”. Signatories of the letter established the organisation Ometz Le’sarev (Courage to Refuse), which supports selective refusal in explicitly Zionist language (“refusal to serve in the Territories is Zionism”). “I served within Israel’s borders” Marks explained to me in an interview once, “and I was happy to do so. For me, that’s Zionism. A war defending the settlements is not Zionism… My conscience told me that this was not something I could be doing or should be doing. There are big questions about democracy here obviously, but for me it’s very clear that democracy is not just about going to the ballot box every few years. It’s about values. The closures and the checkpoints and the house demolitions are not democracy. Being part of that is not democracy.”

[6] For a more detailed account of developments at Kvutsat Yovel specifically, see: Horrox, J. “The New Kibbutzim”, Communal Societies, vol. 32 no. 1, Summer 2013. Also, Yuval Dror, “The New Communal Groups in Israel: Urban Kibbutzim and Groups of Youth Movement Graduates”, in One Hundred Years of Kibbutz Life, A Century of Crises and Reinvention, ed. Michal Palgi and Shulamit Reinharz (New Brunswick, N.J.: Transaction, 2011), 315–24.