It’s Just Another Lemon Tree

Note: these posts will not be in any sort of chronological order, but just based on what my brain decides on any given day. This story is based on how the kibbutz was 13 years ago. Since then, some of subject matter has changed, which I will highlight with *.

Joining a kibbutz is a lot like joining a frat. Except the hazing involves working jobs you are waaaay overqualified for. And less drinking.

Case in point: The absorption process.

You see, in order to join the kibbutz, you must go through two years of "absorption" or learning about the kibbutz, and then you have to be voted in by 64%. To help you achieve this percentage, the kibbutz puts you in a job working with people from the community. 

 After failing to work in the daycares because apparently even a three year old knows how to clean the floor better than me, I was put to work in the dining hall.

I can promise, people are not that happy eating the food..

And for better and for worse, it was there that I really got to know about the kibbutz…

This Food is Mine

As weird as it might be for you or me to think about it, to the people who live there, the communal dining hall is their home. The food? Their food. And the tables? Their dining space. 

I learned this when a woman walked into one of the large refrigerator’s that we kept stocked for cold breakfast items. Inside were an assortment of cheeses, butters, and yogurts, and on the door, in big bold letters, a sign clearly stated, “Employees Only.”

Maybe the sign was invisible...???

This woman, however, simply walked into the back of the dining hall, straight into our kitchen area—our working space—and opened the fridge. When I pointed out the sign, she looked at me as if I were stupid and replied, "This is my home. I can take what I want."

I scoffed. 

First off: rude. 

Second: I hate you. We are enemies now.*

I recounted the incident to my coworker, fully expecting her to side with me:

"Look at them! If they're taking extra, it's at everyone else's expense. Where's the socialism in that? They're prioritizing themselves, leaving less for the rest of us!"

She looked at me completely not surprised by my tale. “Well, technically, you’re right. But in this case? You’re wrong. She’s right.”.  Damnit.

“She’s right,” she reiterated, “This is her home. She worked, gave the kibbutz her salary, and the kibbutz uses it to buy food. We don’t really have the right to keep it from her, because technically, it’s her food”. 

“But it’s technically everyone’s food!” I threw my hands up. 

“Yep.” she nods. “And yeah, there will be less food for others, but then the solution is the kibbutz needs to buy more to ensure everyone has what they need, taking into account people will take things to their personal homes.”

This doesn’t make sense. 

But, to them, it does. 

"Then why do we have the stupid 'Employees Only' sign!?" I demanded, gesturing at the now meaningless placard.

“Eh, we can try to keep people out, but it’s only the best we can really do.” 

Ugh, I hate being wrong. And confused. 

A Tragedy of the Commons is Very Common

The kibbutz operates on a strange dichotomy: all shared items are yours, but they are also everyone's. They belong to you, and they belong to everyone.

The lemon tree you love in front of your house? Anyone can take those lemons. Even though that tree is in your yard, those lemons belong to everyone just as much as they belong to you*. So, you can take until your heart’s content, and so can they. 

But, how is there enough for everyone? 

The answer lies in the kibbutz’s core philosophy: the kibbutz will provide you what you need, not what you want. Essentially, the kibbutz needs to supply the amount of lemons you need, and anything beyond that? You’re on your own. 

The tragedy of the commons states that when a resource is shared and no one owns it (or in this case, everyone owns it), each person has an incentive to use as much as they can. 

In the long run, this becomes a detriment to everyone who uses it because the resource eventually runs out. 

So, what happens when the lemon tree is bare? Currently, we have been privileged enough that we keep adding more lemon trees.  

But we all know there will come a day when even that won’t be enough. Because of limited land, financial stress, or other, we will not always be able to add another tree. 

And we will be forced to fight for what is left, until there are no more lemons decorating our beautiful kibbutz. 

And when that day comes, we’ll have to ask ourselves “Why did we take so much?”.

Notes:

*I made a lot of one sided enemies that year. 

*This is not exactly true today. There are certain trees in the kibbutz you cannot pick without permission, and most people won’t pick trees directly in front of someone’s yard because it’s considered rude.