In a dirty, run-down apartment in Sderot, a city in southern Israel, I first realized what I would have to go through in order to live the socialist dream.

There were about 30 of us packed into three tiny apartments in a decrepit, old building in the slums. In just one night we found out how hard it was to sleep four in one room, with not enough toilet paper. Fights for the cold, dirty shower began almost immediately.

We were there because we were traveling as a group throughout Israel to find out what it means to live in an urban kibbutz-a version of Israel’s communal farms where all wealth is shared equally that some are trying to adapt to North American cities.

We later found out that a group of Israelis who had grown up living on a kibbutz had moved to these apartments and lived there for a number of years, in the same conditions that we found hard to live with for one night-all for the kibbutz ideal.

I am about to graduate with a B.A. in something, and all I keep thinking about is the fact that as of this summer, I can do anything, or I can do nothing. I feel like I am about to be liberated in some way.

So what am I going to do when I graduate?

Despite the hawkish antics of Ariel Sharon-and most Israeli leaders in the past decade-the holy land has potent socialist roots. I did a lot of my growing up at a summer camp called Camp Shomria. It is a part of a worldwide Socialist-Zionist youth movement called Hashomer Hatzair (Socialist-Zionism being a type of socialism crossed with a belief that Israel is the place that the revolution will happen). The camp was originally a training farm for youth who were getting ready to move to Israel to live, and work, on a Kibbutz in Israel. Though it does not directly have those same goals anymore, there are some nostalgic aspects that remain. As a group we all clean the kitchen, the dining room, the bathrooms, and the grounds. We share the work equally in order to instill moderate socialist values among the members. That’s not to say that there isn’t waterskiing and ‘spin-the-bottle’ like other camps-there’s that, too.

For the last 20 years or so, Hashomer Hatzair has been quite successful at instilling its values. We have each taught and been taught about Socialist-Zionism, what it means; for us, it’s a way we can live our lives as enlightened individuals in a fucked-up world. We have, however, been less successful at fulfilling the Socialist-Zionist ideology beyond education.

The Hebrew word for enacting one’s ideology is hagshama. It roughly translates to “precipitation.” For example, when moisture in the air becomes rain it is precipitating, or fulfilling its nature. When a Socialist-Zionist moves to Israel to live and work on a kibbutz it is known as hagshama.

What is a kibbutz, exactly? It’s a little socialist paradise that is generally self-sustaining, and often centred on some sort of agriculture. I know what you’re thinking, and yes, most of them are beginning to privatize. But does that mean that the dream is over?

The history of Israel is crowded with different ideologies, from the highly militaristic to the pacifistic, from the intensely capitalist to the most ardent socialist. Socialist-Zionism was a central ideology in building Israel since the early twentieth century. Based on the teachings of thinkers such as Martin Buber and Ber Borochov, young European Jews began to reject the idea of living the same old alienated, oppressed life as their parents in industrialized Europe. They began to move in droves to Israel and experiment with socialist living. This meant tearing up university degrees and becoming farmers, living in close quarters with their chaverim, or fellow socialists. The goal was explicitly revolutionary: erasing their alienation from the land-and from each other-through agricultural work. These early Socialist-Zionists were not religious, and even in many cases before the state of Israel was established, advocated a bi-national state for all people in the region, regardless of ethnicity or religion. Israel was, until about 30 years ago, very supportive of the kibbutz, as they saw the importance of creating their own infrastructure in everything from farming to politics.

One of the goals of living communally is to try and get past the alienation that we all know surrounds us. We pay psychologists to hear our problems, but we can’t seem to communicate those same problems to our closest friends and family. The world we live in divides us along so many different lines until the only one that we feel comfortable with is ourselves, and the only outlets for making us feel better about being alone are movies, drugs, and shopping.

Letting go of material possessions and reframing money as an unfortunate, but necessary means for survival in this world is an important step in discovering what is really important in life and creating relationships based on people, not things.

So here’s my plan. I will join a group of about ten people from my movement and go to go to Israel this September for a year to create what is known as an urban kibbutz. Hashomer Hatzair’s members as well as a number of others have been doing this for a few years now, and we want to get in on it.

A network of urban kibbutzes (or kibbutzim) are sprouting up everywhere. Most are being created by young Israelis who grew up in the Socialist-Zionist movement. These young people are rejecting the idea that the kibbutz has to be a rural, agricultural entity and making it relevant to urban centres. Importantly, they are also moving them outside Israel’s borders. The goal: to re-establish the movements as movements, rather than the stagnant, overly nostalgic communities that they see their parents’ kibbutzim as having become.

So what do you do on an urban kibbutz, if not farm the land? One of the major projects is social work. This can include anything from working with people who live in poverty, to doing activist projects, all while working a day job to make sure the group has enough money. The groups tend to put all, or most, of their material goods and money into a central pile that the group shares.

The people building this movement see urban centres as the most important places to be. They see the old kibbutz as cut off from what’s really going on in Israel, what’s really important. The old kibbutz is a nice place to raise a family, but the city contains the poverty, the dirt, and the things that need to be fixed today.

When I visited one of these urban kibbutzim, someone asked how they felt not doing agricultural work, so central to the ideals of the classic kibbutz. Nomika, one of the founders of the urban kibbutz who had lived in those dingy apartments that I mentioned above, replied that farming was the pioneering work of one hundred years ago. What is going on now is the pioneering work of now.

A group of us will start out by learning Hebrew daily, while living communally. We are going to share our money, our time, our thoughts, and our feelings.

The next step is volunteering. We may end up teaching or building. We want to work with some part of Israel’s Arab population. There are a number of things we could do to help make Israel a better place, but working with Arabs seems appropriate. Since we are focused on ending alienation, why not work with people who are the most alienated in Israeli society?

Many questions remain, and will remain long after this journey is over. For example, how relevant is this going to be for North Americans who don’t want to move to Israel? Can these networks grow here? Can they be relevant for more than a few people?

I’m not sure if I am carving out a new stream, or if I’m going against the tide. I’m not even sure that I won’t end up in a stagnant puddle waiting for evaporation. All I really know is that it’s hard to find something that I feel strongly about, but this might be it. I’ll just have to do it to find out, since the goal is to “precipitate” my ideals. Theory must become practice.

I’m not sure what will happen after this year. I might stay there and continue on, or I might try to bring the revolution over here. I keep asking myself, “What the fuck am I doing? Am I ready to live in a small, dirty apartment, fighting over toilet paper? How does a small group of twenty-somethings best share the little money they have? Do I have anything to offer the people that I want to help?”

Two answers repeat themselves over and over again. The first is “Holy Shit!!” The other one is, “I don’t really know yet.”

I am doing it, so I guess we’ll see.

Call Hashomer Hatzair for more information: (416) 736-1339. Useful links can also be found on their website, hashomerhatzair.ca.