Looking to slow life down and join a kibbutz? It’ll cost you

When Alon Nagar and his family moved from Jerusalem to Kibbutz Mitzpe Shalem, overlooking the Dead Sea, at the beginning of the Covid-19 pandemic in 2020, they hoped they would find a simpler, more affordable lifestyle.

“The idea was to move to the countryside, leave the constant noise and stress, and find a better standard of living, a better environment for the kids,” Nagar said as he drove around the West Bank kibbutz in his air-conditioned truck. “We liked the idea of being part of a small community that works together to help the entire kibbutz flourish.”

Founded in 1971, Mitzpe Shalem, like some 270 kibbutzim scattered around Israel, was created as a utopian socialist experiment in communal living. Like most others, it has since been privatized and now seeks to attract new members with the promise of a low-stress lifestyle connected to the kibbutz’s breathtaking natural surroundings.

But after five years living there, the Nagars are leaving Mitzpe Shalem, somewhat disenchanted.

“People move to the kibbutz thinking it’s a simpler, and maybe cheaper, way of life, but it’s also a business, and everything has become expensive,” said Nagar, an events producer. “We did the calculations, and our expenses here are actually higher than they would be in Jerusalem, and we don’t have as many options for schools, employment, and other things. And if the kibbutz isn’t managed well, the communal aspect suffers as well. Not everyone understands that.”

As the cost of living in Israel continues its inexorable rise, making home ownership more difficult, many have at some point toyed with the idea of moving to a kibbutz, perhaps with dreams of a return to Zionist ideals or a simpler lifestyle. However, the realities of kibbutz life, economic and otherwise, are often different from what they seem.

The Times of Israel went to find out the economic ramifications of moving to a kibbutz in 2025.

A communal vision

“The most important thing to understand about kibbutz life is that every kibbutz represents a mission, a vision for society,” explained Miri Yatziv, manager of demographic growth for the Kibbutz Movement, an umbrella organization that represents most kibbutzim in Israel. “Anyone joining a kibbutz needs to have a vision and desire for communal living, as well as identify with the energy and spirit of that particular kibbutz. Whenever a kibbutz adds a new member, they need to make sure they are fit to be a partner in this mission.”

The classic socialist model of a kibbutz, with economic equality and shared income, resources, and decision-making, is long gone in most kibbutzim, said Naama Zohar, a PhD candidate at Hebrew University who is researching the kibbutz enterprise.

In the 1980s, ballooning debt taken on by the kibbutzim led many to privatize. Today, only 40 to 50 communities retain a cooperative model, while the rest are privatized to varying degrees.

That means that whereas members’ salaries used to go directly into a communal bank account to be redistributed evenly, members now earn different salaries based on their role and generally manage their own finances, simply paying a community tax for shared infrastructure and services. Instead of a commune, most modern kibbutzim operate more like a tightly-knit neighborhood with shared services.

Today, Zohar said the main attractions of kibbutz life are the rural lifestyle, the communal self-governance, and the sense of belonging that people find there.

There is high demand to join, especially among young families and urban professionals, although the high costs of joining and limits on how many families are accepted have made enrollment an increasingly exclusive venture, she noted.

No free lunch

Yatziv, a member of Kibbutz Kfar Szold, located just five kilometers from the Lebanese border, outlined the process of joining a kibbutz and common expenses.

When a family applies to join a kibbutz, they usually rent in the kibbutz for a year or two before being accepted. During that time, the community assesses whether they’re a good fit — not just socially and ideologically, but financially as well. “We need to see that you can pay your membership dues, that you have insurance, a pension,” Yatziv said. “The kibbutz provides a safety net for members who are unable to support themselves, but before you join, we want to check that you have the means to contribute productively.”

Once you are accepted, there is a fee to join. This is typically around NIS 80,000 ($22,653) per adult, Yatziv said. Some places are cheaper, though.

At Mitzpe Shalem, it’s around NIS 50,000 ($14,160) per person, Nagar noted, while at kibbutzim in the Gaza periphery, membership starts at NIS 30,000 ($8,500) per family.

That money pays for your share of the kibbutz’s existing infrastructure, like the pool, public buildings, and community services. Children are not considered members, so families do not pay for them.

Next, members need to buy land on the kibbutz and build a home. In some kibbutzim in central Israel, this can cost millions of shekels. However, in border communities in the north and south, the state often provides land for free to encourage settlement.

“In Kfar Szold, for example, the land is free,” Yatziv said. “But you still have to pay to build a house, which generally costs around NIS 1.5 million ($425,000) for a modest 160-square-meter (1,722-square-foot) home.”

Monthly community tax payments, which are paid by members and prospective members alike, are calculated in different ways on different kibbutzim, and take into consideration the number of kids and, often, your salary. Costs range from several hundred shekels per month to more than a thousand, with smaller kibbutzim typically requiring higher sums to cover operations.

That’s in addition to the regular property taxes paid to municipalities or local regional councils.

Paying the tax gives you the right to participate in decision-making on the kibbutz, as well as access to public facilities like libraries, public gardens, and a pool. Early childhood education and informal education frameworks are usually offered by the kibbutzim at subsidized rates.

These education programs can be some of the biggest expenses for families, Yatziv said, although they are also among the kibbutz’s biggest perks.

“We have after-school programs every day, even during holidays like Passover and summer break,” she said. “There’s always someone to take care of the kids.”

Communal dining, once a staple of kibbutz life, is now a rarity. Most families eat at home, though many kibbutzim still have a cafeteria. Some kibbutzim reported that they serve lunches every day at subsidized prices, while others said they only provide food for members on holidays.

Many kibbutzim own successful businesses which help underwrite the community’s costs or amenities, though it’s rare for members to see dividends, and even then the sums are not life-changing, Zohar noted.

Members who decide to leave a kibbutz can simply inform the leadership of their intention and sell their home to a member. Restrictions on the sale of state-granted land make it highly unlikely that the seller would see a significant capital gain from the sale, Yatziv noted.

“There’s no way to get more financially out of a kibbutz than what you contribute,” Yatziv said. “It costs a lot of money to join a kibbutz, but you receive a quality of life you can’t find elsewhere.”

There are other challenges of kibbutz life beyond the associated costs, noted Eldad and Keren, residents of Kibbutz Ein Gedi, as they served The Times of Israel cold water in their living room.

“We love the Dead Sea and being in nature, but everything is complicated being so far from the center of the country,” said Keren, a zoologist who makes the two-and-a-half hour drive once a week to work at the Ramat Gan safari park near Tel Aviv. “If you need to go to a doctor, you need to drive more than an hour from here.”

Living in such proximity to neighbors and making decisions together inevitably leads to tensions, noted Eldad, an ecologist focused on studying birds. “In every kibbutz, and every small village in the world, there is politics and gossip, even if you’re the nicest person on earth,” he noted.

To illustrate the point, Eldad launched into an impassioned play-by-play account of a recent dispute over changes to the menu in the dining hall of a hotel run by the kibbutz.

“Those kinds of disagreements don’t ruin your life, they’re just part of the package,” he said.

Repopulating devastated communities

Nineteen months after Hamas-led terrorists invaded communities and towns near the Gaza border on October 7, 2023, several kibbutzim in some of the hardest hit areas in the south and along the northern border have launched campaigns to recruit new members.

In Nir Yitzhak, which had about 630 residents before the onslaught, during which six people were killed and five kidnapped, the community is looking to add new families, said Karni Peleg, an official with the Kibbutz Movement in charge of repopulating the region.

About 60 percent of the kibbutz’s members returned home last summer, and most of the rest are expected back this year, she said.

After successful open houses earlier in May, at least five families have already begun the acceptance process, with more expressing interest in starting.

In nearby Kibbutz Kerem Shalom, members only started to return during the past two months, with most of the 45 families saying they will come back by the end of the summer, Peleg said.

The kibbutz is looking to recruit 10 families, and already has that many candidates.

Nearby Sufa, Magen, and Holit are also recruiting new members, although existing members have not yet moved back in, Peleg added.

In the northern part of the country, kibbutzim Hanita, Manara, Malkiya, Misgav-Am, and Adamit, which were evacuated when Hezbollah began attacking Israel from Lebanon on October 8, are also seeking new members.

“These kibbutzim aren’t looking for people to move in as a favor,” Peleg said. “These are strong communities for people who understand the importance of living out here, especially after October 7. You have to want to live here.”