The Town Planning System – Jewish Settlements in Palestine

(Editor’s Note: The following images were scanned from Richard Kauffmann’s personal copy of this article that was written  in German and published in (trans.) ‘SPECIAL EDITION OF “URBAN” MONTHLY MAGAZINES FOR CITY ARCHITECTURE, URBAN TRAFFIC, PARKING AND MUNICIPAL ENGINEERING XXI. JAHRG. ISSUE 9-10 PUBLISHER WASMUTH ERNST AG BERLIN W8, Markgrafenstr. 31′, and is titled “The Town Planning System – Jewish Settlements in Palestine”, and was written by Richard Kauffmann.}

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The Town Planning System – Jewish Settlements in Palestine

 

Jewish Settlements in Palestine – Title Page

 

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Jewish Settlements in Palestine – Page 10

 

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All Roads Lead to Kfar-Yehoshua

(Editor’s Note: Elie Shamir, who is by profession an artist, wrote this article about the origins of Kfar-Yehoshua,  a settlement in the Yezreel Valley of Israel, which inspired him to create a memorial to Richard Kauffman, the architect and planner who designed Kfar-Yehoshua.)

Memorial for Richard Kauffmann – Kfar Yehoshua

 by Elie Shamir

elieshamir.co.il

First published in Cathedra brochure # 111

Translated into English by Adi Schilling

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COMMENTS and EXPLANATIONS

Introduction

In the following essay I wish to clarify the origins and the vision that are embedded in some aspects of planning the public areas in Kfar-Yehoshua, which is situated in the western part of theYezreel Valley. I suppose it is likely that any creation, even the most revolutionary and innovative one, is based in some way, or connected in some way to the history of art and architecture;1) every change is necessarily based on the tradition against which it is rebelling, and every plan somehow needs to be legitimised for the historic past as well as for the intentions and the realities of the present and the future. The past of Kfar-Yehoshua’s founders grows out of Eastern European Judaism,2) Judaism which is still holding on to tradition, and at the same time encountering general European culture. I wish to examine the enviromental planning of the village, the water tower, the communal hall and of the sculpture in memory of the fallen, and also to pursue the dialogue the designers developed with the history of art and with their personal biography. I shall try to clarify how the builders of Kfar-Yehoshua saw themselves by means of these very same creations. The location of Kfar-Yehoshua is considered here as the centre, as a point of concentration to the perspective of influences from different directions.

Historical Background

Organization A was founded in 1923 following the call of Yaakov Uri (Saslavski)3) for the establishment of the smallholders’ cooperative settlement of Nahalal B, this following the second Histadrut committee meeting which took place in 1923. Six young men in their twenties met in the tent of Naftalie Ben-Ner in Nahalal and announced the founding of the organization. 4) At this meeting nobody took any minutes, but some time later, in 1923, a document was drawn up which explained the aims of the organization in detail. In 1924, during the Shavuot holidays, the organization’s council met in order to clarify the ideological goals, and on the agenda were the ideas of the kibbutz and the kvutzah, together with the idea of the moshav that was expressed in Nahalal. ‘Our organization consists of a group of fellow members which finds expression of its aspirations in the individual and free farmer, together with the effort to make use of the positive aspects which are part of the collective settlement’, thus Ben-Ner summed up the committee meeting, by trying to combine the idea of the kibbutz with the concept of the moshav.5) In 1924 a contract for buying the Western Valley by “Chevrat Hachsharat Hayishuv” was signed under the auspices of Yehoshua Hankin, and on the 4th of January 1927, the committee of organization A met in Nahalal and decided to call the village in the name of Hankin. In a letter which the committee sent him, Hankin was informed that ‘it was with great pleasure that we decided to call the settlement in your name, namely Kfar-Yehoshua’ 6)

Some time later, on the 3rd of March 1927, the wooden hut of the former tenants of the railway station in Tel Shamam was brought to the hill of the village. The first families were housed in this hut and thus Kfar-Yehoshua was established!)

The Letter

The idea of a ‘Garden City’ was conceived by Avigdor Howard of Britain in 1898 in response to the extensive urbanization of the city of London, which according to him caused ‘urban pollution, poverty and the emptying of rural areas’.8) In the same year Howard established ‘The Garden City Association’ in order to further his ideas. He called on people to return to nature, our beautiful earth, the realization of God’s love for mankind.9) In 1902 Howard published his book “Garden Cities of Tomorrow” in which he explained his ideas of planning a new urban neighbourhood. It is important to mention that Howard suggested a comprehensive social change, and the urban planning was to include a new ideology. He emphasized that rural life was a healthy lifestyle, which encourages the connection of good morals and social values more than in the past.” The first Garden City, Letchworth, was built in 1903, and in 1919 an additional city, Welwyn, was founded. Not all of Howard’s ideas were realized in these towns, especially not the part of the co-operative and communal aspects which Howard saw as an integral part of the new lifestyle in the Garden Cities.

At the beginning of the century Howard’s book was translated into German. In Germany too, an “Association of Garden Cities” was formed and already in 1906 the first Garden City near Dresden was established. In Germany the project included the social ideals, and the Garden City was not only expressed in the style of building which emphasized the integration of buildings in nature, but also a place where food, clothing and lifestyle were supposed to be more natural. The architect Ernst May who was invited to rebuild Frankfurt after the First World War, knew the British idea of the Garden City very well, and claimed that the ‘the system is likely to strengthen efficiency at the workplace and to create a communal organization with a simple lifestyle’. 11)

The German-Jewish architect Richard Kauffinann, the designer of Kfar-Yehoshua, was invited to come to the country in 1920 by Dr. Arthur Ruppin, director of the settlement department of the Jewish Agency.12) After he had designed a suburb and houses in Germany, including buildings for the “Krupp” company in Essen, and even prepared plans for the Hungarian Royal family, Kauffmann was invited to design towns and villages in Eretz-Yisrael. Straight after his arrival in the country at the young age of 33, Kauffmann started to work strenuously. In Jerusalem he designed the suburbs Talpiot, Rechavia, Beit-Hakerem and Kiryat-Moshe13) and at the same time was busy planning moshavim and kibbutzim in the Yezreel valley. Altogether, Kauffman drew up over 130 urban designs, in addition to plans for single buildings and special projects, like plans for the electric company and villas, like the Prime Minister’s residence of today.

Kauffmann was-well acquainted with the idea of the Garden City: in the twenties he visited the Garden Cities in England and took a lot of photographs there. In the articles he wrote following his travels in Europe in 1926, he mentioned that he knew many of the Garden Cities still before the First World War, 14) and wrote thus: ‘concerning our country, one cannot imagine any form of settlement more suitable than this, from the practical, as well as from the social, socialistic, health, ethical and artistic point of view.” 5)In his plans Kauffmann tried to combine the idea of the Garden City with the Zionist—Socialist world view; the return to nature promoted by Howard could have been connected to the rebirth of the Jewish people through cultivation of the soil, according to the viewpoint of A.D. Gordon. Kauffmann even set his aspirations further than that. By means of his plans, and without them noticing, he influenced the Yezreel Valley settlers to have the chance for a better quality of life and leisure time activities long before these subjects were on the Zionist-Socialist agenda. In a letter written by Kauffmann in 1923 to Akiva Ettinger, head of the department for agricultural settlement in the Zionist Executive Committee, a letter in which he answered questions about the plans for Nahalal he wrote: ‘two parallel avenues which run from the communal hall centre and from the school to the bottom of the hill, from there an additional broad line of fruit trees around the ring of the moshav is being planned. This will make it possible to go for walks in the shade of the trees on Saturdays and in the future it will be possible to put up some benches for people to rest on.16)

The people of Nahalal settled on the land in 1921. The moshav was designed in the shape of a circle (slightly flattened, like an ellipse) — a revolutionary design which came from utopian sources.”) The plan took into consideration the shape of the hill on which the settlement was situated — Kauffmann wrote about this explicitly in his letter to Ettinger – and also the wishes which the settlers expressed in conversations they held with Kauffmann. Yaakov Uri subsequently described the meeting of the settlers with Kauffinann and his attempt to get to the bottom of the concept guiding the moshav: ‘it is also fitting to mention the sincere attachment between the architect and his family and between the ’tillers of the soil’, for whom he designed their settlements. ‘His consideration of their opinions and his profound interest in their way of life — can serve as an example to everybody.’1 8) Through the synthesis of different ideas — the utopian design, the idea of a Garden City and the wishes of the settlers — Kauffmann created a pioneering concept of designing. He designed a new kind of agricultural settlement — the first moshav and the first kibbutz. He also designed the first dining-hall in a Kibbutz (Ginegar) and the first communal hall in a moshav (Nahalal), and thus continued to influence the lifestyle in the settlements he had designed.

The planning of Nahalal in the form of a circle stemmed also from an ideological point of view: the even distance of each farm from the centre of the village (the centre which is actually an axis and not exactly a point, because it is in fact an ellipse and not a circle) expressed the equality of the members of the co-operative society, the members of Kfar-Yehoshua who knew Nahalal very well, were well-aware of it, and therefore persevered in their insistance that the communal hall should be built exactly in the centre of the village.19) Elyahu Amitzur,20) a member of the third Aliya, born in 1903, and one of the last founders of Kfar-Yehoshua still with us, explained to me that the round design of Nahalal and Kfar-Yehoshua gave also expression to a feeling of security to the Jewish settlements in the area. The first agriculural border settlements like Kinneret and Tel-Chai were built around a courtyard, later on settlements were built along a road like Kfar-Tabor and Moshava Kinneret; these settlements had two entrances on both sides of a single road and defending them was comparatively easy. In Nahalal and Kfar-Yehoshua considerations of security did not restrict the plan and it was executed according to the vision of the planner. Those, according to Eliyahu Amitzur, were the “First Open Country Settlements”. Worthy of mention here is, that this thinking was in opposition to that of Percival Goodman who was convinced that Nahalal was a fortress just like a circle of wagons in a caravan.21) In my opinion Goodman was wrong: each farm in Nahalal or in Kfar-Yehoshua has its own entrance from the fields, which exposes the whole circle to attack from outside and from all directions.

Yaakov Lorch mentioned Kfar-Yehoshua in an article he published in honour of the 50th anniversary of the newspaper “Davar”,22)according to him the members of Kfar-Yehoshua had such a positive attitude, that even if the plan for the moshav was not in accordance with the needs of the inhabitants, similar to the elliptical planning of Nahalal, but in the shape of the letter ‘Yod’, it was in order to remember Yehoshua Hankin, the ‘Saviour of the Yezreel Valley Lands Amitzur who came to Kfar-Yehoshua in 1928, about a year after the land was settled, testified that he heard from the first settlers that the village was built in the form of a `Yod’. Also, from other people belonging to the first generation of settlers, it became clear that they and the next generation as well, grew out of this knowledge,23) even if there was no clear evidence that Kauffmann was asked to design the village in the shape of a letter, it was important for the settlers to be aware that they were living inside a big letter.

The contour of the village was in fact long, in the shape of the letter `Yod’, and even if this happened by chance, the builders of Kfar-Yehoshua chose- being Jews who knew the shape of a letter – to comprehend their village in this way. And this was no simple letter, the letter `Yod’ was there because of Yehoshua Hankin, but also in the name of God, even in his shortened name. I put this question to Amitzur and he responded: I hear this for the first time, I like it but I have never heard of it from the people of Kfar-Yehoshua and I never thought of it. It is possible that subconsciously there was something like this… .As far as I know God had no part in Kfar-Yehoshua (my feeling). Maybe when we were young we still had some measure of religious belief, but when they built a wooden hut for a synagogue it was built in order to serve the generation of our parents… 24) We realised that Kfar-Yehoshua was the realization of the Torah — the Torah of life and not an antiquated Torah… .The real holidays were evidenced by tilling the soil, the festival of Shavuot was there to celebrate the first harvest and not the festival of the “Giving of the Law”.25)

The builders of Kfar-Yehoshua could choose between the two letters `Yod’ in a sensible way: the one pertaining to God, as they had learnt in their paternal home, or the other, the Zionist, revolutionary and secular one, the `Yod’ of Yehoshua. The letter `Yod’ could also serve as a symbolic, traditional sign for a Jew — thus, for instance in the poem “the Point of the Top of the Letter Yod” by J.L Gordon (1876), or in the Jiddish weekly `Ra’ad Yod’ which was published in Poland in 1899. It seems that the letter suggested a number of possible choices which had serious meanings, but this choice was never made, at least not concsiously. The significance of the letter never crossed the mind of any of the founders, most of whom in their youth had studied in the `cheder’, maybe only subconsciously, according to Amitzur. It seems that the Torah influence of the paternal home was pushed back and the revolt against it was like erasing it. Nevertheless, from the words of Amitzur about Kfar-Yehoshua as the realization of the Torah, nothing disappeared the fight over the legitimacy by way of history or by way of the Torah remains.

In 1927 Abraham Schlonsky published the collection of songs ‘Gilboa’. In his poem “Hinei” (here) he depicted the pioneers of theYezreel Valley as those who inscribed God’s word on the parchment of the soil:

     Here is my country, a wild corpse

     It has a skin of parchment, parchment of the Torah

     And an inscription nearly erased

     God’s message on the parchment,

     Who is the savage who can read the Megilah

     Which is in the beginning?

     And who will have the privilege to wrap the talk here

     And to ascend to the Torah? 26)

Schlonsky, the way Dan Laor put it, expressed in this poem the essence of the spirit of the third Aliyah,27) ‘With being very personal in this poem’, wrote Lea Goldberg in the margin of one of the poems ‘Gilboa’: ‘there is no one more reliable than him in describing the spirit of that generation, in which Schlonsky is not the only one, but he is their poet.28)According to the spirit of the times, which was expressed in Schlonsky’s poem and in the words of Amitzur, ‘the creation of Kfar-Yehoshua did realize the Torah’. In the year Schlonsky’s book was published, the pioneers of Kfar-Yehoshua came to settle on the land, and inscribed on it the letter Yod’, ‘God’s word on parchment, the cultivation of the soil resembles God’s word on parchment and the pioneer who realizes this is the savage who will have the privilege to ascend to the Torah and read the Megilah Bereshit.

On the face of it Lorch was right – the ideology supplied a firm framework for everyday existence, and the decision on the shape of the village out of ideological considerations, seems spiritually appropriate. Nevertheless, in another essential matter he was wrong; the shape of the village was not forced on the settlers arbitrarily, but was to a great extent in accordance with the vital needs of the inhabitants.

Because the round shape of Nahalal was so complete and continuous, Kauffinann found it difficult to design an entrance to the settlement. People who entered the circle of Nahalal found the approach unwelcoming. The entrance is sudden, like an unbidden guest, straight to the inner courtyard of the village. In addition, the circle does not allow the organic expansion toward the outside – of course, there was also an advantage in this, in case the settlers wanted to restrict the number of inhabitants. Indeed, up to this day, no expansion whatsoever has been built in Nahalal, and the future expansion planned, is situated completely outside the circle, without any relation to it. Kauffinann was well-aware of all this and in his letter to Ettinger pointed out, that if it will be necessary, ‘to settle additional groups, special notice should be taken to build on the mountain ridge which is north of the road to Nazareth and which has particularly good conditions for the purpose of settlement’29) and with these words he pointed almost to the position where Timrat is today.

Kauffinann drew his practical conclusions from the criticism that was thrown at him regarding the planning of Nahalal and this was expressed in his design for Kfar-Yecheskiel which was established in 1922.30) In the design of this moshav he changed the eight pieces of the circle of Nahalal into an octagon, the southern slope of the octagon he opened in the centre and changed it into an entry road,31) In this way he indeed solved the problem of entry, but created serious problems with regard to parcelling the agricultural ground in relation to the farms, and difficulty in organizing the inner area in relation to the central line of entry.

When planning Kfar-Yehoshua, Kauffinann returned to the basic construction of a circle. The shape of the * Yod’ in Kfar Yehoshua is no more than the shape of a circle that is stretched from one end to the other.32) The tail end of the ‘Yod’ is the main southern entrance, and the tip of the letter – is the exit in the direction of Ramat- Yishai. In the plan the tail-end and the tip-end had some useful functions. Opening the tail-end downwards opened the circle and created preparedness and an invitation to come in, so that entry into Kfar Yehoshua was gradual. The southern fork, a square with bushes, together with the Obrotz grove, had two different possibilities of entry: one turning right towards the row of farms, and the other towards the center of the village33). The tip of the ‘ Yod’ enabled the comparatively organic development in settling the farmers’ descendants in the 1950′s, and today – the further enlargement of the village, also leading to the cemetery. The tower, the most important feature of the village stands between the northern and southern entrance. In order to retain the shape of the ‘ Yod’ Kauffinann divided the village into four non-equal parts, with the aid of four central axes stretching towards the center. These central lines acted as a kind of pivot; lengthwise Kauffmann stretched half the circle’s eastern half to the south and its western half to the north. These lines fit both the topography and the geography of the village. The axis, which runs from the center northward leads exactly to the north and is situated on the highest spot of the tower, on the watershed between east and west. The four central lines do not meet at the center in one place, but create an elongated rectangle. In contrast to the plan of Nahalal, in which the center of the circle was emphasized and there were difficulties in connecting new buildings to the circular form, in Kfar-Yehoshua the central axes were emphasized, and each one developed its character in an organic way. The eastern line, from the center eastward, is the axis of the industrial area, which is economically successful, lying next to the environmentally neglected area which is waiting for improvement: at the back of the co-operative store is a road in bad condition full of rubbish, the deserted building for building materials, the institute for alloys and the tool shed, and next to it a depleted and neglected avenue of trees. In contrast to this, from the center northward is the important axis which was planned well: two parallel lanes which cradle an elongated garden in their midst. Later on, the buildings I shall talk about further on, were built along the length of the avenue: the water tower, the memorial statue to the fallen and the communal hall, and also the grove planted between the garden of the memorial and the peripheral road. It is important to mention that Kauffmann planned a wide avenue on an exposed hill on which at that time, nothing grew, not even one tree, and he tried to realize his vision of a green avenue in European urban style. This and more, in many of his letters Kauffmann emphasized that central lines and lines that connected important landmarks played a significant part in the urban planning of Europe. Paris and Berlin were two outstanding examples of that. Kauffmann designed towns and villages at one and the same time and tried to create different combinations for these two ways of life. Next to the houses of Rehavia he tried the possibility of vegetable gardens, and in the plans for Kfar-Yehoshua there existed the option for a different, non-agricultural development. There was a big gap between the life of labour and of commerce, out of necessity and out of merit, between the pioneers of Kfar-Yehoshua and the vision for quality of life, which the avenue of Kauffmann represented. The design of the village, the same as the design for Nahalal before it, allowed large areas for the development in its setting. It is hard to exaggerate one’s appreciation for the boldness of Kauffmann who designed so many large public areas for the first settlers of the village. Amitzur confirms that this was really the impression the empty areas gave the setting.

The Water Tower.

Kfar-Yehoshua’s splendid water tower is situated at the highest point of the village, at the center of the avenue. It became clear that the ambitions of Kauffmann as a designer influenced the first settlers and this was expressed in the design and the building of the water tower. In resemblance to many ancient mythological objects, it is not known who designed the tower – the tower ‘came down from heaven or grew out of the earth’34) There is also some difference of opinion as to who was responsible for the building, but it is clear that the builders were the people of Kfar-Yehoshua, and they finished the work themselves in a most professional manner in 1929. The water tower is built on the basis of an octagon and has three floors: the first is the floor of round arches, half of it with high pillars (standing between the pillars can give one the feeling of standing in a cathedral), the second floor has low arches and the third floor is a round cement barrel divided into eight by protruding vertical cement strips, which continue upwards the line of the columns. On top of the third floor – a flat roof with a railing of short cement pillars. On top of one of the high arches on the first floor is the inscription in cement moulding, in the style of letters written like in the scriptures: 5689 and in the center of the inscription – a Star of David made of cement, above the peak of the arch. The arches were actually not necessary for the structure because it was built completely of cement casting, and the large expense incurred was exclusively for aesthetic reasons, and this at a time of poverty. The cut sections of the pillars are also not simple: each pillar has three layers of cement which are arranged like stairs similar to the pillars of a cathedral, and the middle layer carries the arch. The cast letters and the Star of David were for decoration only, and this surely gave the building a special Jewish-Zionist identity. Amitzur stated that when they built the tower, there was a feeling that this was an especially beautiful building: ‘we were lucky, that such a fine tower was designed for us when we just needed any tower whatsoever. Our tower is not like the one in Nahalal, when we built it, there was a feeling that we were building a structure that was reminiscent of the ancient synagogues in Eretz Yisrael, like the ruins of Rabbi Yehuda the Hasid in Jerusalem.

The connection of the Torah with fresh water is well known – ‘he will be like a tree planted in a stream9 is written in the Book of Psalms 1,3: ‘Like a tree planted by streams of water’ about the righteous – but why was the water tower designed in classical Italian style? In Europe one can find classical buildings which have several floors. Many public buildings were built with three floors: the ground floor which had round arches as partitions, a second floor of lower arches, and a third floor without arches. Even the Colosseum in Rome was built on the same principle of doubling the Greek temple in height, although the Colosseum has three floors with arches and only the fourth floor is divided into rectangular squares without arches. It is important to point out that in the Colosseum the arches were necessary for the construction, whereas for the water tower of Kfar-Yehoshua they were built, as mentioned before, only for aesthetic reasons. In any case, the similarity between them and the arches of the Colosseum and many Renaissance arches in churches and castles are easy to recognize. The classic period and more than that the Renaissance period which creates anew, out of awareness, the classical culture, is characterized by social, cultural and economic progress, and mainly by a feeling of optimism and meaning.35) This is the heart of the matter. Feelings of optimism and purpose were not lacking in the first settlers of Kfar-Yehoshua. ‘This I accept with both hands’ said Amitzur.36) Indeed, a society in which there is an atmosphere of optimism, purpose and a feeling of renewal like in times of Renaissance – is likely to generate from inside, art works with a classical character, as it happened in Kfar Yehoshua. The tower with the arches, and in addition to the mould with the letters Tarp”t (5689) and the Star of David, is likely to remind one more of a temple than any other water tower in Israel.37)

The Communal Hall.

For eighteen years the water tower stood in the center of Kfar-Yehoshua before the cornerstone for the building of the communal hall was laid. Already in 1937, following the donation Hankin had made to the settlement, the first meeting was held with Abraham Harzfeld and Hankin in the matter of building a communal hall and a nature house in the name of Hankin.38) On a simple steel plate on the front of the communal hall was consequently written: “this communal hall was built in memory of the late Judith and Amitzur Krause, in order to fulfill the testament of the late Yehoshua Hankin in whose name our village was called”. Many discussions were being held among the settlers as to where the communal hall should be situated, mainly because they demanded to build it at an equal distance from the members’ houses and not at the site that Kauffmann had planned. Despite many discussions and voicings of different opinions, they did not manage to reach an agreement, and in the end the decision was transferred to a committee of Nahalal members39), and according to its recommendation the communal hall was built on the site which Kauffmann had specified, and that is where it stands today .40)In determining the location of the communal hall, the connection to the Garden Cities which Kauffmann had designed in the suburbs of Jerusalem and in other places, was clearly established that in fact public buildings in a Garden City will generally be built on the highest point at the end of the garden axis.41) The topographical facts were also taken into account in Kfar-Yehoshua – the avenue which comes to its southern end next to the communal hall is placed at the watershed of the village’s hill, and runs exactly north-south.

The committee of Kfar-Yehoshua turned to a well-known architect Dr. Gideon Kaminka,42) who designed a pretentious and large building facing the water tower. Apart from a sketch in handwriting, showing one of the facades of the water tower, signed by Kaminka, one can find also a letter congratulating Kfar-Yehoshua on its tenth anniversary on 25th July 1937, in which he wrote:* I wish to send you my heartiest congratulations; I am very glad to have had the opportunity to partake in the work of developing the village through the communal hall building. Would that and this plan will be realized soon and will give a pleasant ending to the period of the first decade. ‘43) Building of the communal hall started a decade later in 1947, and was completed on the 25th September 1948.44)

The design of the communal hall was influenced by the international European style, which is characterised by clear interaction between simple geometrical forms, and thus it is also in the communal hall, but this is only the point of departure. This institution was of great significance as its name indicated: its location clearly expressed its designation, to be the home of the people, in which public life was concentrated; discussions and meetings concerning the village and gatherings for happy and sad events. All the holiday and wedding ceremonies took place there and even the coffin of a member who had died was laid out in the communal hall and not in the synagogue. In this case the coffin was laid out on benches opposite the main entrance and the people passing it entered through the side door and exited through the main northern entrance to the cemetery.45* According to the vision of the village fathers, the people were the source of authority and in this respect the communal hall was the substitute to parliament or synagogue, institutions which the founders knew very well and hid well from the second generation (it is interesting to note that the communal hall for topographical and geographical reasons I mentioned before, points south towards Jerusalem similar to the synagogue). For some years a joint Passover Seder was conducted in the communal hall, with new texts which came instead of the “old” ones and also a chapter that was prepared for Independence Day.46)

A pillared porch closing a rectangled garden that looks like an outside patio leads to the entrance of the communal hall. On the front, above the entrance there is an ornament etched in the plaster, the handwork of Sverin (Saive) Malkewitz (1913-1969), a member of Kfar-Yehoshua, which portrays the ‘people’ and their various occupations: agriculture, education and culture. Veterans of the village remember the walk in festive clothing (white shirts), from the various neighbourhoods through the dark streets to the area of the center, and from there to the lane of the dimly lit pillars covered with climbing plants. The passage through the patio of pillars created an atmosphere of intimacy demanding mutual connection, up to the entrance through the doors, which were too narrow, and so people were aware of the empty space in the communal hall on which they opened. The communal hall was designed as an elongated space divided lengthwise into three sections: the middle section with a high ceiling and on both sides areas with low ceilings resting on two round massive columns on each side. The floor of the structure was built as a sloping paved plane, which comes down in southerly direction and leads to the stage, and the center of the ceremony or play.

In the communal hall too, the basic principles and signs of recognition of public building with ancient roots were also realized – the Cardo, old synagogues and the Christian basilica. The potential of the communal hall as a Cardo was realized when stands were put up in the low sections and the central open space was used as a dance floor. One can also add that the Cardo in the Roman city was always in the north-south direction, and that too was the exact direction of the communal hall   Kaminka certainly discerned the similarity of the building he had designed to a basilica, and created a basic difference between the two. The basilica is in the form of a cross which is created by two arms which come out of the two sides of the rostrum bisecting the long axis of the building. In contrast to this Kaminka placed the protruding arms in front, and in this way made it possible to lengthen and emphasize the front and the entrance. Also, the entrance through the corridor of pillars was showing great authority. An entrance shaped in this manner is very rare but in Rome there is something similar, namely the pillared entrance to the Church of Saint Petrus in the Vatican, the most important building of the Catholic Church, built by the sculptor Bernini (in the years 1656-1657); its famous cupola was designed by Michelangelo.47) Bernini designed an enveloping elliptic entrance and emphasized mainly its inside in the center of which was the sundial. The designer of the entrance to the communal hall was interested in an intimate passage which continues through the row of pillars. He even used a diversion similar to the one Bernini had used; the pillared entrance of Bernini is not a perfect circle but an ellipse in which the short diameter is placed at the entrance to the church. A person standing in front of the pillared entrance has the impression that it is a perfect circle, and therefore lengthens it mistakenly because the entrance to the church seems further than it really is and one thinks that the building is bigger than it is in reality. The rectangled corridor of pillars of the communal hall is likely to create a similar illusion.

There is a small synagogue next to the communal hall. The synagogue serves as a meeting place similar to the communal hall. Formerly, it was impossible to compare the big and imposing communal hall with the small synagogue. The communal hall was a place giving new legitimacy in which the people were the source of power. In contrast, the synagogue was for many years considered by local standards to be an anachronistic remnant of ‘grandfathers’, (Sabaim in the language of the locals) and some ‘residents’ -in contrast to the real settlers – who still had not internalized the character of the new Israeli. And behold, the synagogue is still functioning and a special committee is looking after its affairs. Whereas the communal hall lies in ruins, as a tangible expression of the deep rupture that befell the new Israeli. In place of the communal hall they built a functional and pleasant clubhouse, but this cannot and does not replace the original communal hall.

The Memorial

By the end of the War of Independence and the return of most of the soldiers from the Palmach and the Israel Defense Forces, a heavy shadow was cast over the village because of the loss of those who did not return.48) A committee was established including the families of the fallen, Eliezer Shulami (1902-1989) and Yehudith Ankori (1902-1972) and representatives of the village Eliezer Simchoni (1900-1969) and the teacher Menachem Saharoni (1912-1979), who according to Amitzur was the moving spirit of the project. All four members of the committee were from the first generation settlers of Kfar-Yehoshua. After extensive tours to places of commemoration in the country, it was decided to erect a statue sculptured in stone. The sculptress Batya Lischansky (1900-1992) who received the Israel Prize in 1985,49) was chosen to execute the work. Lischansky was requested to show her design and this was chosen after the sculptress showed a number of sketches and a small model in plaster of Paris to the committee members. The stone for the sculpture, a clay stone of large dimensions and weighing 35 tons, was mined in the Galilee by Avad Alhamid Suavi Abu Ganem (1876-1969), and the stone was handed over to the sculptress in 1950.50)  The sculptress worked on the preparation of the sculpture in Kfar-Yehoshua, with the help of one assistant approximately fourteen months.

The expenses for loading and transporting the stone were donated by Solel Boneh, but the settlers, and this in times of poverty, took it on themselves to finance most of the projects. The pedestal on which the statue stands is covered with panels of marble on which the names of the fallen of Kfar-Yehoshua and the names of the Youth Aliyah youngsters are inscribed, as well as the symbols of the Palmach, the State and the dedication. Amitzur, who lost his son Amihud in the War of Independence, at first had reservations as to the erection of the memorial, but at the same time, the differences of opinion did not affect the feelings of love and respect between him and Saharoni. Amitzur even answered Saharoni’s request and wrote the epitaph which is engraved on the northern side of the pedestal: ‘in memory of those who built with their own hands and those who came to help and fought for the establishment of the State of Israel’. The inscription, in letters written like those of the Scriptures, was engraved by Zalman Lorber (1911-2001) the brother of Esther Orian of Kfar-Yehoshua. Lorber also designed and engraved the letters on the second memorial which was also erected by Lischansky, to the north of the first one and on which the names of additional fallen soldiers were recorded. The sculpture was dedicated on Memorial Day for the fallen of the Israel Army in 1953, with almost the whole population attending, including President Yitzhak Ben-Zvi and his wife Rachel Yanait, sister of the sculptress.

Lischansky, like any other artist, could not and surely did not want to create an ordinary sculpture. Precedents from the history of sculpture in general, and commemorative sculpture in particular, were known to her and she was wise to absorb  their message for her own creation, which was designed accordingly and was connected to the present time and place. The sculptor Auguste Rodin finished his sculpture ‘The Burghers of Calais’ in 1895, a sculpture that surely was known to Lischansky. The sculpture memorizes a historical event in 1347. Six residents of Calais which is in France, chose to make the supreme sacrifice in order to save their town from the siege which/Edward the Third, King of England, had imposed on them. The English king demanded that the six, barefoot, dressed only in a shirt and a hangman’s noose around their necks, shall hand him the keys to the town and the fortress. The story of the citizens ended happily as King Edward pardoned them, but they were actually prepared to make this great sacrifice, and Rodin showed them on their last walk toward their expected death. With the sculpture in memory of the soldiers who fell in the War of Independence, Lischansky also portrays the readiness to fight, the resoluteness of the characters through their movements carved in stone. Like Rodin, Lischansky put one figure on the side, the last one which looks back, and this figure holds a plough in its hands. Indeed, Rodin separated the figures, each one to his own sacrifice, but the character that looks backward is easily recognized. Like Rodin, Lischansky was also influenced by the sculpture of the Pieta by Michelangelo, but in the memorial in Kfar-Yehoshua, the influence of the freed slave sculpture is especially noticeable. The struggle of the slave to emancipate himself is connected to the struggle of the figure to free itself from the prison of stone, and similarly to Michelangelo, Lischansky succeeded in establishing a wonderful affinity between the movement of the body and the substance of stone. The memorial came to symbolize the generation of the War of Independence ‘the last generation of slavery and the first generation of redemption’ in the words of Bialik in ‘Mati Medaber’ (Matti is talking), the connection to the freed slaves of Michelangelo is aimed at this. The statue reflects further European influences: the Marseillaise by de Lisle on the Arc de Triomphe in Paris and the heroism of the socialistic realism – but enough is enough.

The conventional semblance of the figures reminds us also of ancient Assyrian sculpture which in those times influenced the Canaanite movement. The Canaanite influence is of particular importance, especially when it is placed in opposition to Talmudic Judaism which created its image in the Diaspora free from Christian Europe and its sculpture. Amitzur also insisted on dividing the memorial into two parts: the Jewish part, the lower altar on which the names of the fallen were engraved and above it the part of the sculpture which shows us as being like all other nations. All this was concentrated in the excellent sculpture of Lischansky to one inner necessity, the movement in the material that gave meaning to her creation. There certainly is importance in the fact that the nursery school of the village is situated opposite the memorial, the children of the village thus being exposed daily to a work of art of such a high standard.

Conclusion.

Kauffmann planned Kfar-Yehoshua with the idea of the Garden City. It was designed in the shape of the letter ‘Yod’ and my opinion about its importance was expressed above. I identified the stylistic origins of the water tower, and most important, compared the shape of the tower to the Roman Colloseum and the buildings of the Renaissance, and connected these sources of influence to the optimism, feelings of ability and strength of the first settlers. The shape of the communal hall is also a combination of different influences that were used for their purpose as the center of public life in the settlement: next to the international style one can notice the influence of the Basilica and the Cardo and also echoes of the entrance to St. Peter’s Church in the Vatican which Bernini designed. I connected the sculpture of Lischansky to Rodin, to Michelangelo, to Canaanite culture and some other sources of influence, and tried to find out the significance of all these in the design of the sculpture.

Kfar-Yehoshua is the model for a village which is made in the mould of its builders and its designers, Jews who were rebelling against Judaism and the European Diaspora, who had brought with them their Jewishness and Europe to the soil of the Yezreel Valley.51} Kfar-Yehoshua actualizes the sentence which Tchernichovsky coined: ‘Man is the sum of his homeland’s panorama’ – and with this, one can also claim the opposite – ‘the panorama of a new homeland is the sum of its settlers!”

 

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Planner who left mark of genius on face of Israel

Editor’s Note: This article, by Eliezer Brutzkus, was published in the Jerusalem Post on February 12, 1968, ten years following the death of Richard Kauffmann. The photo icon in the title block has been replaced with a version of the original.

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TEN years have elapsed since the death of one of the men who perhaps more than anyone else has left a lasting imprint upon the physical features of our towns and villages. Architect Richard Kauffmann was a pioneer of planning in this country and undoubtedly “the” town planner of its Mandatory period.

He came from Germany, and made his first mark in town planning in the ‘Ukraine during the First World War and later in Scandinavia. In 1920 the Zionist Organization, renewing its colonization work, invited him to Palestine to create lay-out for the new rural settlements. It was an attractive assignment, but for a town planner a most exceptional task.

The shape of a village is in, most countries the outcome of a slow, spon­taneous evolution, and was at the time scarcely a subject of systematic and deliberate design. Here the peculiarities of the climatical, agricultural and social setting of the Jewish colonization work in Palestine had to be taken into account. This entirely new and complex problem required also awareness of the require­ments of an agricultural society, of so­cial, hygienic and security demands. Visual impressiveness had to be achieved as well.

The Nahalal plan (1921) — a prototype for moshavei ovdim — was the outcome of Richard Kauffmann’s struggle – with the new problem: an ellipse approaching the circle where farmers’ houses were grouped along a circular road, their hold­ing; stretching in facet shape towards the periphery, while the interior of the ellipse was occupied by plots for artisans and the common institutions of the moshav. Soon followed the lay-outs for Geva and Ein Herod, serving as prototypes for a kvutza and a larger kibbutz, with dining-room serving as focal node of the settlement on the line where the resident­ial quarters and the farm buildings of the kibbutz met.

Most of the rural settlements founded in the ‘twenties and ‘thirties by the Zionist Organization and Jewish Agency were designed by Richard Kauffmann on simi­lar principles, paying in every case care­ful attention to the peculiarities of the site and the agricultural and social set­tings of the planned settlement.

In the case of Emek Hefer (1932), Richard Kauffmann made a first attempt In Palestine at regional planning on a small scale providing a coherent plan for 14 settlements occupying a more or less compact area of 30,000 dunams.

The pioneering role of this country in developing designs of rural settlements is well recognized in the world, and Kauffmann’s Nahalal plan is often produced in handbooks for town-planning appearing in different countries.

But the activities of Richard Kauffmann were not limited to rural settlements. He worked, too, as an architect, designing buildings, and above all in urban planning. The basic layouts of Ramat Gan, Herzliya, the Rehavia and Talpiot Quarters in Jerusalem, of most of the residential quarters on Mount Car­mel and of many other urban settle­ments, quarters and neighbourhoods de­rive from Richard Kauffmann.

His planning style reflects the general attitude of the revival of urban design in the first decades of the century, a reac­tion against the rigidity, dullness and monotony of the lay-outs of most cities drafted by surveyors and civil engineers. Kauffmann’s style was strongly influenc­ed by the British “garden towns” movement.

A special gift of Richard Kauffmann was to know how to adjust his design to the peculiar details of the site and topography, never attempting to violate or to disregard them. This subtlety and genuine respect for the nature of the site semis today – in the age of the bulldozers and a return to more rigid and purely functional patterns of design – to be indeed “romantic” and even exag­gerated.

The town planner rarely has decisive influence on the ultimate fate of the quarters and settlements he designs and actual development or misdevelopment has often altered, dwarfed and spoilt many of the careful designs of Richard Kauffmann. Nevertheless, the basic fea­tures of his layouts may be still recognised in the present Ramat Gan or Talpiot. They will be so for decades ahead. The imprint of the genius and skill of this cultured and personally charming artist is firmly engraved on the physical face of Israel.

ELIEZER BRUTZKUS

 

Richard Kauffmann – Image of a Builder of Towns and Settlements (Hebrew)

Editor’s Note: This article, in Hebrew, was written by Lotte Cohn, an early colleague of Richard Kauffmann, who was very familiar with his work. His surname was misspelled in the title of the article by the newspaper. It should appear as ײקאופמןײ

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The First Planning of the Haifa-Acre Region in 1925-26 and the Problems of Today

Editor’s Note: The following article, written by Richard Kauffmann, describes his 1925-26 plan for the Haifa-Acre region and how the current problems could have been avoided had the plan been implemented. The article was translated to Hebrew and published by Masada (Tel Aviv) in 1952. Scanned images of the Masada article were provided by the Central Zionist Archives, Private Collections Department. These were first transformed into Hebrew text using OCR and then translated to English by this writer. More text will be added as the translation progresses.

Note to reader: If you have a copy of the original version of this article, (in English or German) please contact me at rK.ekf@verizon.net. If it can be obtained by us, a lot of unnecessary effort would be eliminated and greater accuracy obtained.

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After the First World War, in the early intensive development of our country, it became clear to those who understood the issue – although they were few in number – that there is probably no other area in our country like the area spreading from Haifa to Acre, which, because of its location, demands organic development, and therefore requires regional, comprehensive and far-sighted planning.

In those days Haifa was still a small town, and there were only a limited commercial district and the German Colony. Hadar-Hacarmel was in the beginning of its construction. The small town of Haifa has developed in the narrow strip between the sea and the slopes of Mount Carmel. Because of the absence of a suitable port, the ships docked opposite this strip, in the protected part of the bay. The greater Kishon Valley was almost entirely an extensive unpopulated, malaria-infested, wetlands area.

Lasting credit is due to the late Joseph Levy, who was the first to understand the full meaning and importance of the Zebulun Valley to Haifa’s future development. He succeeded in instilling his passion and faith in two other men of action, Mr. Ephraim Kotznok and Mr. Fasman, and the three founded “Haifa Bay Development Company”, and approached with great energy and dedication the pioneering work of land acquisition and development. Planning the entire area was then given to the writer of these lines.

From the beginning it was clear to me that the extensive areas that were purchased by the Haifa Bay Development Company with their incidental borders will be only part of the area that the planning has to include. I saw that one must organize and plan the whole wide area, from Haifa with the Carmel in the South to Acre in the North, an area of 250 square kilometers or 250,000 dunams.

The topography of the Carmel and its adjacent areas has been copied from existing surveys,  while in Haifa Bay itself, which is the main area, excellent topographic measurements were made by the late engineer Joseph Treidel. For the purpose of the planning itself, I installed a special planning office on Mount Carmel, which at its disposal were the engineers, as consultants, Joseph Levy, Shimon Reich, Joseph Treidel, and also engineers expert in port construction, and more.

Basic factors in the delineation of the planning

Many have already dealt with the special geo-economic situation of Haifa and there is no need to go back and raise it here. It is possible to assume that these facts are quite well known. We should mention only one thing again – that of the singular and unique role known to this place by its being the natural gateway to our country from the countries of the sea, and the place of intersecting international transport lines north-south (Europe, Middle East, Africa) and from west to east (Sea countries – Transjordan, Iraq, etc.). These factors alone were sufficient to ensure the most intensive development. Added to this is the recognition that Haifa would be both the natural and logical center of a fertile agricultural area and an area of light and heavy industry.

Indeed, at that time, we did not have an accurate survey to predict the dimensions of development in the future, but the natural data were so convincing in the direction they want you to go, and in contrast to this what little existed was so non-organic and detrimental to development, that the role and purpose of planning were made clear as if by themselves.

Therefore we will first review what existed as we found it previously, next we’ll talk about the role and purpose we put before us, the attempt to solve the problems in designing the program and its implementation, and finally the problems we face today.

What we found

As I said above, Haifa in the early twenties was only a small town, with a population of 20,000 persons, spread over a built area of one square kilometer.  The town was located in the narrow “bottleneck” between the seacoast and the foot of the northeast slope of the Carmel.  On the Carmel itself stood only the few houses of the Templars, especially on the “German Carmel”.

The train tracks and international road had been simultaneously placed around the Carmel finger and cut across the city of Haifa through all its length.

Industrial plants almost did not exist. The “Nesher” cement plant and the “Shemen” oil factory were at the beginning of their development and still had not had time to expand.

Roads connecting to the North did not exist yet. Because of the lack of a port the ships anchored in the Gulf. Thus the Mandatory Government decided to have a port built by the British port building company: Palmer, Triton and Randall, and indeed the future location of the port was planned the opposite the existing town.

Out of a complete lack of understanding of the nature of town planning, the possibility was given to buy land around the existing town to the south – west and south – east, on the steep slopes of Mount Carmel, for the construction of residential neighborhoods, instead of leaving the slopes free of construction and designating them for forestation. A master plan did not exist for planning the town and therefore the entire development was most anarchic.

Roles and Goals of our Planning

Cut out those failure-causing beginnings, eliminate the anarchy and transfer the development to natural, healthy and organic tracks – that was the role and purpose of our planning. It was clear to us beforehand that the port in the proposed location, without concern for enough “Hinterland”, without concern for creating one organic body – port town – and without concern for possible expansion of this body thereafter – such a seaport is a grave mistake that inevitably would backfire on itself severely in any future development. The building of the port in the proposed place would have brought about the conglomeration (agglomeration) of the town in a narrow strip with all the damages associated with it, for health, fitness and efficiency of its residents.

To the planner it is obvious that the port “dwells not alone” and it is impossible for it to live its life totally cut off, but rather it is a necessary link, albeit the most important, among the vertebrae that make up the organism of the port city.

In the absence of enough hinterland, without organic connection tailored to the essential transportation systems, to the business and residential districts of the city, it is destined that any possibility of rational and successful service of the port would be hit hard, and that would be a serious injury to the whole city.

The port plan, as proposed by the Mandatory Government, west of the town, was prepared without taking into account this organic connection and without synchronization with the other vertebrae of the city body. Attention was not given except for professional methods of the building of a port: low construction costs, and certainly for strategic reasons. This plan posed a threat to the organic economic development of the whole region.

Based on the above, it seemed obvious that the natural and desirable place for the port was in the south – eastern part of the bay, near the mouth of the Kishon River, with the wide flat hinterland and the most appropriate area for the establishment of the working city, i.e., business and industrial areas, neighboring the port, would naturally be the broad and unpopulated Zevulun Valley.

The transportation lines, the international roads and the train-tracks, leading to the city from the south and passed around the Carmel finger and split the urban area, all this should have been transferred to another place, so that they will surround the city toward the east.

We wanted to avoid the danger, which threatens construction on the steep slopes of the Carmel and to achieve the goal of preserving them for the goal of protection of public green areas.

We wanted to protect Old Acre – an architectural gem – from modification and ugliness, while proposing a suitable area for the development of the New Acre.

Regional Diagrammatic Sketch

Except for a few detailed plans for individual neighborhoods, there was not any master plan for Haifa, let alone for Acre. In those days there still had not been created institutions that would strive for such planning and move towards its implementation. Engineer Levy, acting on behalf of the Haifa Bay Development Company”, was easily convinced of the need for having this kind of comprehensive planning, and therefore we went for making the planning for the whole area.

Our intent was to work on the initial plan in connection with the

(Ed. To be continued…)

Factors in Official Town and Country Planning

Editor’s note: Images of article were obtained courtesy of the Central Zionist Archives, Jerusalem. The original article was published in the Jerusalem Post on December 1,1952
The “foreign expert” mentioned below is likely Professor Sir Patrick Abercrombie, a distinguished town planner in England and a member of the Town Planning Institute.

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FOR Rosh Hashanah 5713 the Government of Israel presented us with a comprehensive survey of the plans for the physical development of the country, as designed by Mr. Arieh Sharon and his many collabora­tors. With its numerous coloured plans and photos of villages, settle­ments, towns and typical landscapes, the volume is admirably well produc­ed by the Government Printing Press and Survey of Israel Press; an Eng­lish summary of the Hebrew text does credit to the Kfar Monash Printing Press, and the whole is a fine example of local craftsmanship.

Above all, this volume gives an in­sight into the magnitude of the task whose significance for the overall physical shaping of the whole coun­try cannot be overestimated.

A first glance shows what good work has already been done with much fervour, and the general out­line of some of the towns and es­pecially the lay-out of some of the neighbourhood units reveals a satis­factory general trend. On further examination, however, a number of questions arise. A few only of these questions, selected at random, can be discussed here.

The National Master-Plan

Where is the general utilization plan of the country? Any national master-plan must obviously be based on such a plan, which is itself de­signed on the basis of a national map showing the quality of soil, arid areas, water and natural resources, historical sites, beauty spots, etc. This principle has been generally ac­cepted since Dr. Dudley Stamp, the English pioneer in this field, insisted on it in his works. It must be ask­ed whether a plan of this kind has been prepared for the whole of the country as the indispensable basis of the master-plan.

Between pages 26 and 27 a large folding plan is reproduced, called the national master-plan. This plan itself, as well as the various town­planning schemes, are based, in general, on recent planning methods adopted in Europe and the United States. A national master-plan should form the basis of the entire physical planning of the country. By properly incorporating and cor­relating the various essential com­ponents of physical development, existing as well as proposed, such as communications, urban and rural areas, afforestation, parks and green belts, etc., it should fulfil its func­tion as the key to the whole deve­lopment, and not least to all re­gional and detailed planning.

One of the most important compon­ents is a national irrigation scheme, This scheme is not found in the master-plan although it should be one of the main attributes of the plan decisively influencing its preparation through proper correla­tion of the irrigation system with the system of communications, zon­ing, etc.

National parks and afforestation areas should form an organic entity, allowing for interconnection of larger regions and afforestation areas by a network of green belts. Instead of providing for a con­tinuous and uninterrupted green system, parks and green belts are scattered over the whole land with­out organic connections which would enable youth groups, hikers and tourists to move from reservation to reservation by foot.

This approach is all the more re­grettable because the country offers unique opportunities for appropriate planning. Nature itself has connected the hill areas of the east and north by means of wadis, gorges and rivulets to the coastal belt with its ranges of low “kurkar” (sandstone) hills and sand dunes. Here is the natural key for a proper arrange­ment of a national green system. At the suggestion of the present writer, even the Mandatory Town Planning authorities had long ago made legal provision for a rudimen­tary coastal green belt. It would be a pity if our authorities, instead of enlarging it, allowed it to be drop­ped altogether.

Safeguards for Precious Soil

Our land is relatively poor in good agricultural soil. Only approximately 7,500,000 dunam of a total area of 20,800,000 dunam or approximately one third may be considered as ag­ricultural soil suitable for cultiva­tion. The intention of redeeming large areas of wasteland and neglected soil has already resulted in considerable outlay and human effort. Accordingly, one of the most im­portant guiding principles in deter­mining the location of new towns and settlements must obviously be that not a single dunam of good soil shall be used for other than agricul­tural purposes, unless absolutely necessary. Here again a proper land utilization map should guide our efforts.

In fact, however, new towns and settlements have been earmarked in the plans on first-class agricultural soil instead of pushing them to nearby arid areas. This would not be detrimental to their general location, but would save hundreds of thousands of dunams of good soil for agricultural use. In travelling through Israel today one cannot help noticing with regret how new town enlargements and housing schemes are springing up on excellent soil, whereas sand dunes or stony areas in the vicinity are lying idle, as, for instance, in Rishon le-Zion and Ha­dere. It may be mentioned in pas­sing that building on sandy or stony ground is much healthier and chea­per than on deep or heavy soil.

The Haifa Region

Space permits only one or two more observations. It is to be re­gretted that a proper master-plan for Haifa and its region is lacking. As this is unfortunately the case, new developments for the harbour in the Kishon estuaries have recently overtaken the sound development of what is perhaps our most important town to the decisive detriment of all factors involved, foremost among them the harbour and the town itself.

This omission is all the more surprising because Mr. Sharon him­self describes the future Haifa as a “centre of international trade and industry” which “may in future play an important part in international communications.” In the light of these statements, which-can be wholeheartedly endorsed, the plan shown on page 63 does not seem to meet the case, either in its arrange­ment of the harbour and the ad­joining areas, or in other features, as for instance the intercontinental railway communications which cut through the whole area of town and harbour instead of being led around in a south and easterly direction as a bypass railway, tunnelling Mount Carmel.

For further study of this important Issue, the reviewer must refer to his article “The First Planning of the Haifa­-Acre Region in 1925-26 and the Prob­lems of Today“. publ. by Massadah, Tel Aviv.

Tel Aviv’s Railway

A similar drawback is revealed in the proposed new South-North railway line which cuts right through the whole length of Tel Aviv, split­ting the town into two parts. It runs along the Wadi Musrara, where a narrow green belt has been proposed along the wadi bed, the only green and recreation area in the heart of the town worth mentioning the purpose of which will certainly be defeated when the main railway passes through its whole length.

Moreover, it does not seem rea­sonable for a railroad to be built precisely along this lowest part of the town, where a constant danger of flooding exists even if costly drainage work were undertaken.

The right location of the main railway-line would again be a by­pass in the East, with only feeder branches for local use.

In the Master-Plan for Jerusalem, a suitable alternate site for the Heb­rew University and Hadassah, omit­ted in the plan, would have been of decisive importance.

Rural Planning

Several examples of rural planning are reproduced in the book, in air­-photos as well as in typical plans of villages. Much pioneering work has been done in this field in the land of Israel, where systematic planning of agricultural settlements was un­dertaken for the first time more than thirty years ago and has be­come an internationally acknow­ledged model.

The reader will be under the im­pression that this planning too was the work of the Government Plan­ning Department. By accepted standards of international usage it would have been incumbent upon the author not merely to cite the photographers, but in the first place the names of the authors of these plans, for instance:

Kibbutz Ein-Hashofet (page 29) by the late Norman Lindheim; Mo­shav Ovdim Nahalal (page 30), Moshav Shitufi Hissin (page 31), Kib­butzim Ain Harod and Tel-Joseph (page 32) by Richard Kauffmann. On plate XVII there is an air photo of Haroshet Ha-Goyim which was designed by Professor Alex Klein.

Wanted: A Town and Country
Planning Act

Even the most careful planning is doomed to failure if adequate legis­lation is lacking. Such legislation should at least accompany the plan­ning activities, but it would be even preferable had it been enacted be­forehand. If no such legislation is mentioned in the book, for the good reason that there is no proper law in existence. More than anyone else, the Government’s Planning De­partment itself must be aware of all the handicaps and drawbacks  resulting from this deficiency, but the public, too, suffers from the resulting stagnation in development.

One of the first acts of the Man­datory Government was a Town Planning Ordinance, promulgated as long ago as in 1921. Based on the then prevailing policy and on piece-meal-planning, this Ordinance was revised several times. Yet, together with some others of the Mandatory period, it has remained the legal ba­sis of all planning. In several other countries legislation was already en­acted before the first World War, and in England the Town and Country Planning Act of 1947 pro­vided the necessary instrument for modern development. Here unfor­tunately, we still labour under an obsolete legislation which was ne­ver meant for regional, much less for national country planning.

Status of Planning Department

Another question bearing on the success of planning is the status of the Planning Authority itself. This Department has already been trans­ferred three times. Originally at­tached to the office of the Prime Mi­nister, it was subsequently shifted to the Ministry of Labour, and landed recently in the Ministry of the In­terior. In addition, Planning Depart­ments exist in other Ministries, as for instance, in the Ministries of Communications and of Commerce and Industry.

It  is perhaps no wonder that, as experience has shown, the planning authorities are not endowed in their present set-up with sufficient powers, nor are they adequately represented in the Cabinet, the Knesset, and in Public Relations. In view of the vi­tal importance of the task for the whole future of the country, a se­parate Ministry of Town and Coun­try Planning would seem to offer the only effective solution. Even in Britain, where large-scale planning is, so far, confined to regional schemes, a special Ministry of Town and Country Planning was estab­lished long ago.

Collaboration and Coordination

“Effective planning calls for col­laboration and coordination,” with this apposite statement the book is introduced to the reader; but when it goes on to say that “during the past two years the activities of the Planning Department have been based on such collaboration,” one feels inclined to voice serious doubt, not about the collaboration within the department itself, on which the outsider has no information, but in a much wider sense.

It is, or should be, imperative that with this unique opportunity of shaping the physical outlay and appearance of the country, all those who are qualified to make useful contributions should be given the opportunity for collaboration. This has unfortunately not been done. On the contrary, local specialists with many years of professional experience in the field of planning, abroad as well as here, have neither been consulted nor otherwise en­couraged to collaborate.

The departmental monopoly thus created is, no doubt, responsible for many of the failures, a few of which have been mentioned. In other countries, such as Britain, which has made outstanding con­tributions to the science and prac­tice of planning, the “Town Plan­ning Consultant” has become an in­dispensable part of the system.

It may be useful to invite foreign experts for the elucidation of special problems, but this can be no substitute for constant collabo­ration and consultation with local specialists whose thorough acquaint­ance with the problems involved and practical experience makes it imperative to seek their advice and collaboration.

The few observations which could be offered in this review, are in­tended as constructive criticism on­ly. It is not yet too late to reconsider both the organization and the proposals of the planning authori­ties. Unless this is done, we shall have to admit that there is a good deal of truth in the apprehensions of a foreign expert who, after his departure front Israel, wrote to the present reviewer;

When the responsible authorities are anxious to spend money in a wrong way, and when they fear criticism of their dilettantism, I can’t help it. Here (i.e. in the writ­er’s country) you are obliged to submit your opinions to the highest authorities and criticism is appre­ciated. I consider this the right attitude to make things better. But in Israel it is just the contrary; when you don’t say: “perfect,” people are disappointed. The loss of the critical mind is the end of everything…

Planning of Jewish Settlements in Palestine

Editor’s note: This page is under construction and is not complete. Several more plates have to be scanned and made available via links. Plates are referenced by “Pl. xx” where xx is the plate number. The first plate in the series is Plate 12.

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A Brief Survey of Facts and Conditions

To understand the construction of the new Jewish settlements in Palestine some knowledge is essential of the character and objects of the Zionist movement, which aims at the settlement and revival of the Jewish people. This most important basis of Jewish colonisation in Palestine can, however, be only very briefly touched upon here.

The aim of the Zionist movement is expressed in the so-called Basle Programme: “Zionism strives to obtain for the Jewish people the erection of a publicly proclaimed and legitimate Homeland in Palestine.” One of the most essential conditions necessary for the attainment of this aim was presented by the well-known Balfour Declaration and its ratification by the League of Nations—foundations which, outwardly, offer a means for the realisation of Zionist ideals.

The driving force of the movement is founded in an inward rejuvena­tion and concentration of the Jewish masses. The only people in the world which for centuries had to live without a country of its own, with­out a national culture and therefore without freedom, is now striving in its ancient homeland, Palestine, towards the self-realisation necessary for the existence of a free and creative body of people. The first essential in this direction is their conscious turning towards the productive spheres of agriculture and industry, i.e., nothing less than their process of domiciling themselves. This reversal of previous modes of existence already set in with force when the later Zionist colonisation began, and the younger generation in particular have returned in large numbers to agriculture.

That this violent reaction of recent times should have called forth passionate attempts to find new forms of social life is only too easily understood in the case of a people which has such strong religious leanings as the Jews, the people which from Palestine gave to mankind the Bible.

Economic Possibilities

Palestine was at one time a very fertile country. The neglect of centuries has greatly damaged its economic possibilities, and the most resourceful and devoted work is needed to bring it back again to its agricultural zenith. Herein, as well as in the industrial manufacture of its agricultural products, and of the natural raw materials of the country and its hinterlands, lie the potentialities of productive activity.

The economic and geographical conditions of Palestine in the region of the borderline of three continents made the country famous already in olden times as a prominent centre for trade and commerce. With progressive agricultural, industrial and a commercially sound development great possibilities will arise again.

Geographical Structure

Pronounced lines running from south to north are characteristic of Palestine’s geographical structure, with but one breach in a west-easterly direction. These lines from south to north, starting in the west with the coast line, follow an easterly course, as a result of the alternation of plain and mountain—the wide plain extending along the coast from south to north, the mountain ranges of Judaea, Samaria and Galilee, the deep hollow of the Dead Sea and of the Jordan Valley, and further east, the range of the Transjordanian mountains of Moab and Ammon. The most strongly-marked west-east breach through the mountain range, commencing at the Bay of Haifa, is formed by the Kishon-Megiddo­Esdraelon plain. The most fertile lands for farming and settlements lie mainly in the region of the plains, so that most of the land required for Jewish settlement has been acquired here.

The Character of the Landscape

The character of the landscape in Palestine is peculiar to itself and is very impressive, particularly in the mountainous regions. The mountains, completely bare, intersected by deep Wadis (mountain valleys containing water only in the rainy season), their magnificent lines and silhouettes unblurred by trees, produce an extraordinary effect by their largeness and dynamic qualities, imbuing the landscape with a heroic character. The fierce light of the Eastern sun, the glowing effects of colour during the transition between night and day and day and night, perpetually changing, continually different, according to season and atmosphere, enhance and accentuate the powerful impression produced by this bare mountain region. Its very existence and power call for a creative effort, which a genius might perhaps succeed in. Our task is to clear this way, to keep the summits of the mountains free for the monumental buildings of the future, to push settlements towards the higher regions. Plant the mountain valleys and slopes with trees, but leave the most characteristic contours unblurred, ready to receive the pinnacling settlements. Arab villages, seemingly growing out of the mountains, make an unforgettable impression.

As is quite natural, both climatic and agricultural conditions call for the settlements to be placed on the breezy heights, and for the plantations to be laid out in the wind-sheltered valleys, whose good vegetable soil and greater humidity make them more favourable to cultivation than the wind-swept, rocky heights.

Zionist and other Land Colonising Societies

The Zionist Organisation has created various Societies for the acquisition and amelioration of land, the most important of which may be mentioned here. The central agency for purchasing and selling land is the Palestine Land Development Company. The Zionist colonising society is the Agricultural Colonisation Department of the Palestine Zionist Execu­tive. The Zionist agricultural settlements are established on land acquired by the Jewish National Fund, a donation fund, which acquires land as the inalienable property of the whole Jewish people. It grants the land on hereditary tenure, and is thus not only a land reforming institute in the most radical and idealist sense, but by this solution of the land question lays the first and most essential foundation for a satisfactory system of town planning in the settlements. The fact of its being a gift fund unfor­tunately limits its scope, so that some land also passes into private hands. Thus, through the agency of the Palestine Land Development Company, lands are transferred to companies, of which the American Zion Common­wealth and the “Meshek” are the largest. An extensive colonisation scheme was also carried out by the Jewish Colonisation Association (I.C.A.), a creation of Baron Rothschild’s, which, however, cannot be dealt with here. Practically all the settlements for which I have worked out the plans, and the most important of which will be described below, owe their existence to one or other of the above-mentioned colonisation bodies and land societies.

Aspects of Town Planning Development in Palestine

Taken as a whole, Palestine offers favourable opportunities for her architectural development. The sins committed in European countries in this respect, particularly in the latter half of the nineteenth century, in many cases exact the penance of a difficult and costly process of destruction prior to a recourse to sound and economic construction; and that only where settlements have not to be rebuilt entirely. Urban and rural town planning started under far more favourable auspices in Palestine than elsewhere. Here virgin soil awaited cultivation, very little poor work of any sort existing, and the mistakes committed elsewhere served as a warning example and helped to further an organic growth adapted to the special needs of the country. The fact that this opportunity has not been fully taken advantage of is regrettable, but cannot be discussed here.

It is necessary to point out that the special conditions attending Zionist settlement in Palestine also brought the town planner a mass of fresh tasks and problems, which were not lessened by the absence of previous material to work upon in modern town designing in the East, or in earlier work of a general kind, such as agricultural settlement and so forth. This will receive mention further on, suffice it to say that these conditions increased the attraction of the labour.

The Field to be Covered

Summoned by the Zionist Organisation from Norway in 1920, where for one-and-a-half years I had been co-operating in large town planning schemes, I found an extensive field of work in Palestine, which, as time went on, grew steadily. At first, it was mainly a question of plans for garden suburbs and agricultural settlements; later came along sites whose character marked them out for towns. The three different types of settlement are dealt with below in four divisions :—

(1)    Garden Suburbs.

(2)    Urban and

(3)    Rural (agricultural) settlements, and

(4)    Regional planning.

I. GARDEN SUBURBS

The lay-outs adopted in those cities of Palestine which come most into question for Jewish settlement, that is to say, Jerusalem, Jaffa and Haifa, were at first far too congested, and in many parts, unhealthy. To avoid these narrow confines the new settlements tended towards the outskirts of the towns, where, too, land prices were comparatively low. This ten­dency, which is noticeable all over the world to-day, is natural in such climatic conditions as prevail in Palestine. Unfortunately, in some places, the settlements have grown up at a greater distance from the towns than is quite compatible with organic development. Most of the garden suburbs which have risen in this way are situated in particularly beautiful spots. They are the usual type of garden suburb, except that detached houses are numerically more prominent here than in an analogous European settlement. Owing to the marked individual character of the Jewish urban settler, semi-detached houses are comparatively rare, and rarer still terrace houses, which it is hoped to propagate in the near future for cottages and labourers’ settlements.

Mention will be made of only a few typical examples of the numerous garden suburbs, both those designed and those in course of erection. The earlier garden suburb near Jaffa—Tel Aviv—will not be included among them, as it has now grown into a town of more than forty-thousand inhabi­tants, unfortunately defying all efforts to make it conform to a systematic scheme.

Garden Suburbs near Jerusalem

The garden suburbs in the neighbourhood of Jerusalem (Pl. 12) were designed for the most part to lie south and north-west of the town. They are partly in process of building, partly completed. The largest is Talpioth (Pl. 13), situated on the high road to Bethlehem, to the south of Jerusalem. The area of Talpioth, comprising about 1,100 Dunams, (1 Dunam,  the Palestinian land measurement unit, is about 900 sq. m.) is in the shape of an extenuated mountain crest, of which the longitudinal axis runs somewhat parallel with the Bethlehem Road in a south-­northerly direction, its highest point reached in the southern area, some 45 m, above the Bethlehem Road. From practically all sides, especially from the summit, there is a magnificent view over the mountains in the west, over the Jordan Valley, and the Dead Sea in the east, and the steep Transjordanian range of Moab and Ammon in the background. Two Wadis extend eastwards down to the Jordan valley.

The natural shape of Talpioth decides its architectural construction. The cone of the oval-shaped mountain is being crowned with monumental buildings conceived in an imposing style. Here at this culminating point, is to be the practical and ideal union of all that is lofty and necessary in a human settlement. The dominating summit is encircled in a parallel circumference by terraced roads one below the other down the whole stretch of the mountain slope. Roads for vehicular traffic lead to the top, and at right angles to these roads, and taken up as far as the top of the eminence, a monumental flight of terraced steps, bordered by trees, rises from the Bethlehem Road, intersecting in its perpendicular course the sweeping terraced roads. Following the curves of these terraced roads, the groups of houses surround the hill, culminating in the buildings which crest the summit.

The course taken by the streets lying to the north, as well as by the buildings on them is facing the town and the Temple site in a northerly direction. A main avenue, as backbone of the whole, runs from the entrance square across the height, sloping downwards to the adjoining extension area of “Mar Eliash.”

The plan provides for plots of approximately one dunam each. After deducting 28 per cent. for streets, public squares, for plantations and sports grounds, some 800 plots are left. As regards the public buildings, space is made for a synagogue, and a people’s club house on the summit, and at other prominent points a town hall, a school, a small theatre, a post-office, etc.

Beth Hakerem.

A fuller account will be accorded here to the settlement of Beth Hakerem (Pl. 14) than to the other garden suburbs to the north­west of Jerusalem. (Editor’s Note: The plan of Beth Hakerem was mounted with North facing down in the original plate.} The foundations of this settlement are, I think, the best of any suburban settlement I have yet planned for Palestine. This fact affected favourably not only the original plan, but also its execution.

The area of Beth Hakerem, comprising approximately 280 dunams, is situated in the north-west of Jerusalem, 1 km. off the road to Jaffa on the way to the Arab village of Ain Keren. It has the typical formation of the Judaean mountain region, characterised principally by a hilltop. The characteristic form of the site, with its rising cupola, decides the structure of the settlement. The groups of streets and dwellings commence at the slope and belt the hill in rings, growing narrower and narrower, until they cultimate in a group of public buildings on the summit.

An attempt has been made here to give shape to an idea which originated from the nature of such a settlement and such a mountainous area. The settlement itself, and the mountain on which it is situated, are to be crowned with a group of monumental buildings, which will serve the spiritual needs of the inhabitants.

Extending along both sides of the middle hill are two Wadis in the shape of terraces, widening to a deep hollow at the foot. These Wadis contain the best of garden soils. The vegetable mould washed up in the course of time by the rocky treeless mountains has been deposited here. They form two natural strips for laying out as parks, their position alone marking them out for the main axis of the rhythmically curving net­work of roads. The natural terraces have been incorporated into the plan in the simplest manner. The manifold Palestinian plants and tree varieties afford a welcome opportunity for architectural landscape gardening, the borders being lined with tall, dark, trimmed carob trees, employed with inner beds of the delicate light foliage of pepper trees, while sombre cypresses tower above them all. The hollow at the lower end of the two green strips in the Wadis offers a favourable means for laying out an ideal sports ground. To this hollow, the sole flat point of the whole area, the mountain walls descend in steep terraces, forming a natural amphitheatre of rare beauty, which, at a relatively low cost, can be turned into a sports ground with natural terraced platforms. By a fortunate chance the longitudinal axis of this hollow faces south-north, so that the players, who only play mornings or afternoons, always have the sun and wind from the side and never from the front and will never be against sun and wind.

Two other suburban settlements in the immediate vicinity of Beth Hakerem may be briefly mentioned here, the one the so-called Montefiore Settlement (from funds provided by the Montefiore Trust), the other Bait-u-Gan (Pl. 14), situated on a beautiful mountain slope with cupolaed site, the latter measuring approximately 800 dunams.

Settlements near Haifa

If Jerusalem can be looked upon in advance as the cultural centre of Palestine, Haifa (Pl. 15) may also be regarded as certain to become the industrial and trade centre. Her economic and geographical advan­tages make this assumption appear perfectly justified. Haifa has not only favourable inland communications; she is also the starting point for the mercantile routes to the neighbouring countries. The west-east gateway through the south-northerly mountain mass referred to above, begins at Haifa. Already it is the starting point of the railway line to Eastern Syria, the Hauran and Transjordan. The line to Egypt starts from Haifa, as does the line to Acre, now to be extended to Ras-el-Nakura, for the purpose of connecting up at Ras-el-Nakura with the Syrian line to Aleppo and Beyrouth, Constantinople-Europe. Haifa is also the appro­priate site for constructing the Palestinian port. The coastline of Palestine runs practically straight, in a more or less south-northerly direction all along the Mediterranean shore. At Haifa alone does the Gulf of (Haifa) Acre form a natural bay, in itself the greatest asset in building a harbour.

The local formation of the ground of Haifa and adjacent regions favours these conditions still further. In the western part of the town and bay Mount Carmel rises to a height of some 350 metres. In the northeast an extensive, well watered plain stretches beyond Acre to the mountains of West Galilee. The fact alone, that not only the most preva­lent, but also the purest and coolest breezes, blow from the west, i.e., the Mediterranean, marks out the western mountain district as the most suitable residential quarter, while the eastern portion of the plain, with its flat expanse, offers the best opportunities for traffic and industrial development. With a climate which, due to Mount Carmel’s height, is temperate even in summer, a more ideal residence than Mount Carmel can hardly be imagined for Palestine, or for the East generally; and in thus combining mountain and sea air Mount Carmel has a promising future as a health resort.

The topographical structure of Mount Carmel is, as may be gathered from the attached photographs, extraordinarily varied and interesting. This far-flung mountain line, intersected on its eastern and western sides by deep Wadis, acquires a particularly interesting character through its crests, which incline towards the Mediterranean—the Gulf and the Kishon. From most points of the crest there is, eastward, an incomparable view over the Bay of Acre and the Kishon plain; westward, over the wide expanse of the Mediterranean.

In true appreciation of the importance of this district, the Palestine Land Development Company has acquired large areas on Mount Carmel for laying out as residential quarters.      These plots have been provisionally named Central, West and South Carmel, according to their situation. The total area comprises approximately 6,000 dunams. Photos of the lay-out plans are attached—Pi. 16.

Migdal on the Lake of Tiberias.

The ground of this settlement (Pl. 17) lies on both sides of the high­road from Tiberias to Safed, in the valley extending south and east of the present farm Migdal to the Lake of Tiberias. High mountains bound it to the south, west and north; towards the east the mountains open on to the Lake like an amphitheatre.

The kernel of the settlement, with its residences, bazaar, market­place and public buildings, lies in the heart of this gorge on either side of the main traffic artery, the Tiberias-Safed Road, whence radial streets communicate with all parts of the settlement. Ringshaped streets connect the various parts together and throw into rhythmical relief yet again the land basin and the amphitheatre of mountains. The backbone of the countryside is provided by a long and wide avenue cutting through the settlement somewhere in the centre. This avenue branches off in the middle into two arms, one leading directly to the Lake, where it terminates in a landing and bathing stage on a broad promenade; while the other arm, in the form of a tree-lined avenue, joins together the two wooded regions and continues to the sports ground and the northern parts of the settlement.

* * * *

The above examples taken at random from a large number of suburban settlements serve to show my intentions under the given circumstances. I am fully aware that even in the schemes on paper a portion only of the problems which garden suburb settlements give rise to can be solved. In view of the uncompromising and rigid attitude of the employers, i.e., the building public, it was, for instance, absolutely impossible to attempt a favourable solution architecturally of the small apartment house on the lines of the attached houses. We are also still far from solving many other aspects of this question. Various difficulties and obstacles confront the actual execution. Similar circumstances prevail in the matter of urban settlements; they are only briefly discussed here.

II. URBAN SETTLEMENTS


General Remarks

Two distinct lines of procedure can be traced in the development of urban settlement. The expansion of existing towns is the one usually followed. The second method, the construction of a town from the beginning, is rarely attempted anywhere, so few town-builders receive the opportunity it affords. As referred to above, one town has in recent times been freshly built in Palestine, namely Tel Aviv, near Jaffa. In the course of 15 years it has grown up from a small garden suburb into a town­ship numbering to-day more than 40,000 inhabitants. Unfortunately, this town was not built according to a coherent plan and, therefore, shows all the serious defects resulting from such anarchic procedure.

The limited number of places in Palestine predestined by their position to evolve into urban settlements, after a certain point of progress has been reached, is not hard to recognise. One such spot is that on which the town of Afuleh is laid out and is now being built in the heart of the Emek (Pl. 18, Pl. 19 and Pl. 20), where the station Afuleh stands at present.

I was instructed to work out the general plan for this town, of which I give a brief description below.*

* Compare with full Commentary to the Town Planning Scheme of the Emek Town, May, 1925

 

Preliminary Conditions for Planning and Development

Most urban settlements have to come into being in response to an economic need. This alone imbues the town with life and the chance of expanding. The point at which the Emek town is planned to stand answers these requirements; so that its progress must follow in due course.

There are two aspects, which will be the determining factors for the rise of a town at this particular spot. Firstly, south-to-north trade routes will intersect here the most important trade routes running west to east. Secondly, it is the central point of an extensive and fertile agricul­tural Hinterland, the plain of Megiddo and of the Emek Jesreel. When they are laid down, the west to east traffic arteries will be of special importance. After the harbour at Haifa is built, they will form the simplest and easiest means of communication from this part of the Mediter­ranean coast through Palestine to the countries of the East. To-day the railway from Haifa to Damascus already passes Afuleh. Once these fundamental conditions governing the future economic development have been made fast the growth of the town will be able to follow as a matter of course.

The plan had thus to provide for these two fundamental conditions, i.e., for the future importance of the place as (a) the most important trade junction, and (b) as the economic centre of this region.

For gaining a thorough knowledge of the potentialities of such a town and incorporating them in the plan, an exhaustive study of all the factors would have been necessary. Such procedure is a matter of course and comparatively simple, when it has as its object an existing town, and when the careful statistics of years are available. Obviously, it is far more difficult to procure such data in the case of a town still to be founded; and unfortunately it proved practically impossible in the case under discussion, because many factors had to be reckoned with which, apart from their not being and not having been, available in statistical form, cannot even be foreseen to-day. In this respect, therefore, the plan had to be based on more or less vague assumptions.*

* These questions are exhaustively dealt with in the Commentary to the Town Planning Scheme of the Emek Town, May, 1925.

If, on the one hand, statistical data are admittedly not procurable, on the other hand it is satisfactory to note the presence of certain factors which determine the planning and structure of this town. Its geographical position and its general economic possibilities settle in advance the form of the whole undertaking. Chief consideration must be given to the main func­tions of the town, both as a traffic junction, and as the centre of an extensive and  fertile Hinterland. More so than elsewhere must the organism of this town be kept elastic enough to allow of future expansion, the extent of which cannot be foreseen as yet.

In this connection quite special attention must be drawn to the style of the foundation of this town, which made the plan an exceptionally difficult one and only allowed the town planner to do his best under adverse circumstances. The land round Afuleh was acquired by the two above­mentioned Societies, the American Zion Commonwealth and the Meshek, for the purpose of being divided into plots, sold and developed. Within the residential radius of the town an average size for each plot was determined upon from the start, precluding a more or less stepped struc­ture of building and, with that, variety in the types of edifices. In spite of these hampering circumstances an attempt had to be made to introduce such a graduation and differentiation in the style of building, in some parts of the settlement at least, if only to serve as an example. Further, the land purchasing companies from the very beginning limited the space available for public purposes to 33 per cent. in the southern part of the town, a percentage which had shrunk to 15 per cent. in the north-eastern portion. In view of these circumstances, there was no choice left to me but to either let things take their course and have another Tel Aviv, or to do the best under adverse conditions, in the hope that better counsel might prevail later on, especially in the matter of green spaces. Though I considered the second the more difficult and responsible attitude I adopted it.

Town Planning Basis

The governing factors which predestine this town to be a centre for transport and trade, require it to be a decidedly central town, which radiates its means of communication and develops its districts centri­fugally, from the heart outwards.

Means of Communication

The present means of communication comprise the railway line running from south to north in the direction Nablus-Afuleh, and the line running from west to east, that is, from Haifa to Damascus, as well as the south to north main thoroughfare of Palestine, which runs from Beersheba via Hebron, Bethlehem, Jerusalem, Nablus, Afuleh to Nazareth­ Tiberias and Syria. The principal direction and alignment of the future thoroughfares can be fairly anticipated to-day, as, for example, the west ­east road from Haifa to Damascus and the diagonal highroad from Jaffa­ Tel Aviv to Afuleh and the Lake of Tiberias. A radial system of streets provides quick and convenient communication between the town and the entire hinterland.

This, being a commercial town, it was obviously right in this case to place the main railway station in the heart of the town, the geographical features of the settlement favouring its position here, where it will create no interference with the traffic in the town itself. The site selected for the station is situated on the watershed between the Mediterranean and the Jordan, i.e., the Dead Sea, at a height 7 metres above the point where the railway line enters and leaves the confines of the town. This railway (Pl. 19), which it is intended to electrify, is consequently run quite naturally in a cutting below street level, which not only means a horizontal system of stations, but above all, allows the spanning of the main streets by bridges without embankments or cuttings, with a minimum of interference with the town’s building activities, ensuring at the same time close and uninter­rupted communication between its northern and southern sections. Structurally this is also to the advantage of the station itself, because in accordance with the most modern building methods, the subsidiary platforms thus come to lie below the main platform. The station is right in the middle of the town, easily accessible from its southern and northern parts. East of the station, near the industrial quarter, are the shunting and local goods stations. A separate goods line from the east, with branch lines, serves the various industrial sectors.

Town Sectors

In planning the organism of the town an attempt was made to fit the various sections into a harmonious whole, in keeping with the main objective. In all its parts this organism has to function rationally and smoothly, just as the human or animal organism, or the organism of a machine depends on each separate part for the proper functioning of the whole. To achieve an artistic organism of this kind is the art of town planning.

Commercial Quarter

In pursuance of this elementary demand the commercial sector had to be as central as possible, in this case it had to form the centre of the town. Traffic being its most vital and important concern, the commercial sector will include the main traffic centre, i.e., main railway station and the main street traffic junctions. The most important commercial undertakings will be grouped around the traffic junctions and along the streets in the inner part of the commercial centre. In planning the more densely built sectors, special attention was devoted to the streets running as far as possible from south to north, thus forcing the buildings in the same direction and ensuring the best possible light and the best possible ventilation by the prevalent cool west wind.

Industrial Quarter

The most favourable situation for the industrial sector was found to the south of the main railway line (goods station) and east of the Afuleh-Nablus line (Fig. 13). This spot seemed to combine all the qualities guaranteeing its future development. The whole area is practically level, with easy access for the sidings and direct connections. The industrial section being in the eastern part of the town furnished the best protection for the other parts from smoke and fumes, because the winds come from the west. Normal expansion to the east has been provided for.

Contrary to the principle in vogue to-day with its more or less mechanical parcelling out, the general plan of the town provides for a schematic sub-division of the industrial sector. The streets, as well as the railway connections, form a complete system of their own, culminating in a square at the southern end of the industrial sector where the public buildings, among others the Post Office, are placed. The division is arranged in such a way that provision is made for industries with large space requirements as well as for those with medium and small space requirements. The latter lie mostly towards the centre of the sector, while spaces for the bigger industries are reserved on the outskirts. The sidings run into the centre of the blocks, finishing off at the outer boundary of the plot. The points where they cross with the streets are reduced to an absolute minimum. A green space separates the industrial sector in the west and the south from the adjoining districts. The sector for small industries is also in the eastern part of the town directly adjoining the commercial sector north of the shunting station.

This method of opening up the two industrial sectors seems to be not only the most rational, but, at the same time an attempt to fit them harmoniously into the general scheme.

Residential Districts

The residential and mixed districts form an organic adjunct to the centre of the town. In their turn they are divided up between the principal streets into private roads, courtyards, green belts and squares. Particularly in planning and shaping the residential districts, did the Companies’ decree of four dunam to each lot prove the greatest stumbling block. The limitation almost endangered the organic structure, particularly as it may be assumed that a round 80 per cent. of all the dwellings will be of the smaller type required by workmen, minor officials and the middle class. To ensure the opportunity for this style of building later on, the plan was framed with a view to allowing the average four dunam plot to be sub-divided into residential streets and blocks for the erection of small dwellings. Special attention was paid to this point in the vicinity of the industrial sector, as workers’ settlements will necessarily have to be established here. All these precautionary measures, however, cannot avert the risk of the premature sale of single plots, and thus prevent these districts from serving their actual purpose. It must be stated with regret that the most earnest protests have proved unavailing.

 

Public Buildings

The communal buildings epitomise the economic, cultural and social life of a town. They are, therefore, to be found at its most prominent points. Buildings serving economic and administrative purposes will be found close to the working sectors with its key positions, the north and south railway stations, while those of a cultural nature will be placed as near as possible to the residential quarters and green spaces.

Green Spaces

The green spaces are an organic part of the town scheme. Green strips, mostly terminating inside the building blocks, radiate from the centre and form an outer belt of parks. A ring-shaped green belt serves as a connecting link. At the points where the green spaces intersect the radial strips, large green spaces provide freedom from dust and noise for schools, Kindergartens and other public buildings, serving also as recrea­tion and play-grounds. The main cemetery of the town will be near the southern green belt, with a large park adjoining. The children’s play-grounds will form part of the green spaces scheme of the town. At its southern and northern end space has been provided for two sports­grounds.

As mentioned above, the provision and execution of a green spaces scheme was considerably hampered by the building companies. Large and additional green areas in the town itself, more particularly, however, on its outskirts, must be insisted upon.*

* See details in the Explanatory Report of the writer on the Emek Town Planning Scheme.

 

The construction of this town, whose plan was only completed last Spring, is already proceeding. Obviously the duty of the town planner does not stay at the drawing up of the plan. He naturally tries to ensure the healthy development of the organism he has created. As the circumstances of the case under discussion are too complicated to allow of more than a brief description, one question only of this kind will be dealt with, namely, the point of departure for building operations.

Experience has shown that although a town may commence to grow centrifugally from the centre, it is apt to skip certain stages, growing into a more or less disconnected and fragmentary structure. To prevent a sickly growth of this kind, all energies must be bent on ensuring a sound economic and organic development from the very beginning. Develop­ment along certain lines can only be ensured by its inevitable nature being recognised and deliberately kept to from the very start.

Applied to the Emek town this means that the natural point of departure lies to-day at the station on the Jerusalem road. Near this point the building plan provides for the commercial, industrial and residential quarters. Starting from this point, the town would extend, radiating centrifugally to the adjoining region, its growth similar to that of a crystal.

The economic conditions as described above do not exist as yet, or at any rate only in their initial stages. Any attempt to force the natural pace could, in our opinion, only result in a limited, more or less artificial development, and this only if it were possible to establish already productive concerns on a fairly large scale. They would at any rate create a certain amount of activity, preliminary to becoming part of the normal life of the town.

III. AGRICULTURAL SETTLEMENTS

Probably the hardest problems confronting the Zionist Organisation in respect of colonisation, were those of agricultural settlement. Such problems have a general and a special character.

Some of the most important problems in this connection are best described by Dr. Ruppin, founder and director of the Agricultural Colonisation Department for the last seventeen years, in his book “The Agricultural Colonisation of the Zionist Organisation in Palestine.” (Publishers: Marlin Hopkinson & Co., Ltd.)

“In the very early stages of the Jewish national movement it was recognised already that agriculture would have to form. the economic basis for Jewish immigration into Palestine. One can find clearly expressed in the writings of Hirsch Kalischer (about 1860) and in the first utterances of the Choveve Zion, that the return to Palestine must at the same time mean a return to the soil. Very few people, however, had, at that time, a clear understanding of the immense difficulties with which this necessity would confront the Jewish people.

In the countries outside Palestine the Jewish population is composed in such a way as to resemble a pyramid whose broad base is formed by merchants, their employees, and commercial middlemen. These are followed by industrialists, by professional men (doctors, lawyers, engineers, teachers, journalists, artists, etc.), and by artisans (especially tailors, bootmakers, tinkers, glaziers and goldsmiths), and it is only when we reach the narrow apex of the structure that we find farmers and industrial labourers. The order of this pyramid must, in Palestine, be exactly reversed, if agriculture is to be the foundation of economic life. That which forms the apex outside Palestine must now become the base. This means a radical transformation of occupations, which in itself is extremely difficult and lengthy; but it is all the more difficult, if this transformation goes, as in our case, hand in hand with the need of becoming accustomed to a different country, a different climate, and a different language.

But the fact that, in Palestine, the Jews will have to compete with a people of a much lower standard of life is, indeed, far worse. The whole Orient is characterised by a frightful exploitation of human labour, particularly that of women and children.”

In his introduction Dr. Ruppin mentions a few of his fundamental ideas, of which I wish to quote the following :—

1. That for the success of the Zionist colonisation, sociological no less than economic factors have to be taken into account.

2. That the peculiar nature of the problem, which is to bring back townsmen, and Jewish townsmen, to agricultural life in Palestine, renders a solution on the lines of any existing model impossible, and necessitates the application of new methods.

…   

4. That the great sacrifices demanded by the work of colonisation are repaid not only by the immediate results, but by the fact that the experience acquired in the process is the indispensable basis for colonising on a larger scale in the future.”

These fundamental ideas underlying the agricultural colonisation of the Zionist Organisation are naturally bound to have an influence on the planning of the settlement. Added to this, the architect has to contend against the peculiarities of the climate, and often those of the land.

As regards the general problems of town planning in connection with agricultural colonies, mention shall be made only of the fact that when these were started upon no proper data were available; like elsewhere, agricultural settlements in this country were rarely built according to plan, even where a plan existed. The well-known European rural settlements had mostly been superimposed on the historic village in course of time, as the need arose, and could not be taken as a model; they are collective settlements, villages where the houses stand in a cluster or are placed in rows with the farms more or less touching, or they are scattered settlements barely hanging together. The American agricultural settlements are mostly of the latter type, their advantage lying in the small distance separating the homesteads from the fields. But they also have the great disadvantages attaching to the scattered settlement, namely a very far flung and expensive system of roads and water supply, difficulties of social intercourse, inconvenient distance from all public buildings, and difficulty in meeting measures of public safety. Settlements of this type, perhaps best described as the type of absolute decentralisation, seemed utterly unsuited to Palestinian conditions. The other extreme type (village cluster), a highly centralised type, did not seem suitable here either for the smallholders or private farmers’ settlement. The ideal type to be aimed at for a mixed farming settlement would be a semi­centralised one, combining the advantages of the scattered and collective settlement type, while avoiding its drawbacks as far as possible. The advantages of a type of this kind are obvious: adjoining the farm with the dwelling-house, stables, sheds, tool out-houses and granary is the land which is to be intensively cultivated with vegetables, vines and orchards, all of which need constant supervision from the dwelling-house, while the land to be extensively, cultivated (fields) on which seasonal work is done, lie around the settlement. The settlement itself is closely knit, and the length of the roads reduced without undue crowding; this facilitates social intercourse and leaves the communal buildings conveniently near. Nor does the question of taking measures for security oiler any appreciable difficulties. This type also lends itself far more easily to a compact architectural effect in contrast with the scattered type of settlement.

The selection of a site on which to erect the agricultural settlement is exceedingly important. The ideal place would be in the midst of its cultivated fields on a moderate hill with good land for growing garden produce, near a spring, a main road, and, if possible, a railway station, open to the cooling summer breezes from the west and at a distance from swamps, the breeding places of the Anopheles (malaria pest), which, should any be found at the place chosen for settlement, have to be exterminated prior to its establishment. In practice it is not always possible to reach this ideal, and it is the duty of the Settlement Commission to select the best site they can.

Sociological Structure

Our colonising activities have a character quite their own, which is reflected in the architectural structure of the settlements. The reason for this is to be found in the type of Jewish pioneer inhabiting such agricul­tural settlements as I have so far planned for the Zionist Organisation. Not only does their longing to till the soil point the way to it, but it is to them, with their deep conviction of the need to till, more than to other sections of the population, that the resurrection of the Jewish people owes its soul. It is, therefore, natural that questions of social ethics play a dominant role. From the Single Workman’s settlement (Moshav Ovdim) to the truly cooperative settlement groups (the large Kvutza and the Gdud Avodah) these incentives are at work in unmeasured degree.

Common to all the settlements is the ownership of the land by the community, the Jewish people through the Jewish National Fund. The settlers, in this case the workers’ communities, receive the land on a long hereditary lease.

The two main settlement types of this kind are those of the Moshaw Ovdim and the small, or large, Kwuzah.

Moshaw Ovdim (Workers’ Village).

In its present form the Moshaw Ovdim is based on the principle of mixed farming, embracing cattle-breeding, dairying and dairy products, poultry rearing and intensive and extensive cultivation, i.e., vegetable growing, viticulture, the raising of cereals, fruit and fodder, and afforestation. Every individual settler is allotted a total of 100 dunams (1 dunam approximately 900 sq. m.), of which roughly 10 dunams are taken up by the farm and the kitchen garden, while the remaining 90 are used for extensive farming. The original type of the Moshaw Ovdim comprised approximately 80 families, with 100 dunams of land each, and about 20 families whose occupations were not agricultural, such as artisans, teacher, doctor, etc., with an allotment of about 5 dunams each to provide for their own requirements. Although in a settlement of this kind every settler works his farm individually, because this way seems to offer the most satisfactory and fruitful scope for his enterprise, in all other branches of the work, as also in the life of the village, the social idea predominates. Thus the purchase of food supplies, tools and agricultural stocks, and the sale of the produce, are undertaken in common through the ” Mashbir ” the Buying and Selling Cooperative Society of the organised workers (Histadruth Hapoalim). The Moshaw Ovdim has a cooperative dairy; the agricultural machinery is purchased, owned and used cooperatively. One of the important basic principles of the Moshaw Ovdim, to which it owes its name, is the principle of the settler working his farm himself (in Hebrew: Avodah azmit). This aims not only at attaching the Jewish farmer to the soil, but beyond and above that, at preventing any form of exploitation of hired labour. Only the settler and his family work the farm. Their 100 dunam of land and their cattle-rearing is not more than they can manage by themselves by dint of hard work, and suffice, if well worked, to ensure a good standard of living.

Practically all the agricultural settlements referred to below lie in the Emek Jesreel (Plain of Esdraelon). The first Moshaw Ovdim, estab­lished at the beginning of 1922, shows all the most typical traits and will, therefore, be dealt with somewhat more fully here.

Kfar Nahalal (” The Promised Village”).

The Moshaw ” Kfar Nahalal ” (Pl. 20 and Pl.21), so called after the old biblical name of a village near by, is placed on a gently rising oval­shaped hill in the midst of an exceptionally fertile plain near two springs. The chief road of approach to the Moshaw leads from the Haifa-Nazareth highroad direct to the summit of the hill, which is the central spot of the settlement. Following the contour of the hill, a circular road was built, the farmsteads being placed on its outer side. In the heart of the settle­ment, on the highest point of the hill, are found the most important cultural and economic communal buildings, crowning the settlement and at the same time outwardly embodying the principle of cooperation. Here stand the Beth Hawn (People’s Institute), the school, a small hospital, the central dairy, stores and sheds for agricultural produce and machinery, the Mashbir, etc., concentrating at its central point the life of the settle­ment. Streets or paths radiate from this point to all parts of the settlement. Between the ring formed by the farms and heart of the settlement, are placed the five-dunam homesteads of the teacher and artisans. According to the original plan two avenues were to lead from both gardens of the school and the Beth Haam to the foot of the hill, where a strip of fruit trees encircles the Moshaw.

In this way it was sought to create a living organism with a natural culminating centre in harmony with the spirit of this particular type of settlement.

Kfar Jecheskiel.

The principle underlying the structure of this Moshaw (Pl. 21) is very similar to that of Kfar Nahalal and will, therefore, only be described briefly. The appearance of the settlement is less compact owing to the different character of the ground. Here, too, the centre point is to be the village green with the communal buildings grouped round, whence roads radiate in all directions, including the main road leading to the railway station Ain Harod and to the settlement of that name, another road to Merchaviah, to the Emek town and to the Kwuzah Geva, apart from local roads of communication. A circular road encloses the semi-circular plateau on the southern frontal side of the Moshaw, continuing to the gently rising ground and inter-connecting the various radial streets. Here, too, the grouping of the settlers is similar to that of Nahalal, except that some farmsteads are situated alongside the radial roads.

Kfar Hittin.

This Moshaw (Pl. 22) is situated on a hill surrounded by mountains on the western bank of the Lake of Tiberias. The view over the Lake and the opposite bank, from the eastern part of the settlement, is of surpassing beauty. As this is the only part of the settlement which can be seen from the Lake, space was reserved here for a few public buildings, such as the synagogue, the hospital, the hotel, etc. Their naturally advantageous position will be enhanced by a park which is already being laid out along the mountain slope. Communal buildings demanding a more central position will be provided for in the centre of the settlement. The streets and buildings gravitate towards this culminating point. In this plan details with regard to the individual farmsteads were marked for the first time.

Moshaw Transylvania.

This Moshaw (Pl. 23) takes its name from the pioneer group, whose members were for the most part farmers in Transylvania. These people insisted on the settlement being constructed on both sides of the main road (Jerusalem-Emek town-Tiberias) as is the custom in their native country. A demand of this kind was bound to create difficulties of a peculiar nature. The danger to life and limb on so crowded and busy a thoroughfare was very grave indeed, and the penetration of dust into the houses had to be guarded against, without interfering with communications. For this reason the farmsteads are accessible by two local roads separated from the main road by broad strips of trees. Only at three points—the centre, the entrance, and the exit—has this line been broken. Along the main road trimmed hedges prevent man or beast from crossing the road except at the points indicated. At the entrance or exit, obelisques or fountains (illuminated at night) will be put up to compel the slowing down of the traffic, which will be able, however, to proceed unhampered and free from risk at the other points. The trees on both sides of the highway provide additional protection from the dust. Public buildings are placed in the centre. On the roads branching off to the fields, there will be additional farmsteads, thus avoiding the unsuitable and unattractive form of a village with two straight rows of houses.

Herzlia, near Tel Aviv (Pl. 24).

A rural settlement of private farmers. Here the individual settler needs less ground than in the Moshaw with its mixed farming. The method of intensive cultivations, i.e., banana and orange plantations, does not demand more than an average sized plot of 10-20 dunams of land for each settler. The settlement is situated on the hilly part of the ground, each farm surrounded by its garden, while the orange and banana groves are in the hollows or on the large fertile plain extending below the hills. This form of settlement can naturally maintain a larger number of settlers than that devoted to mixed farming.

The Kwuzah (Cooperative Settlement).

The Kwuzah (literally: a group) is distinctly a cooperative form of settlement. The cooperative principle finds expression in all aspects of daily life. The children grow up together, live and feed together. The families live in communal houses, taking their meals in company. It seems necessary to state here also that this communal life not only does nothing to loosen the bonds between parents and children, but, if anything, seems to draw them closer. The children are the first concern of every Kwuzah, the whole community striving to provide the best possible conditions for them at the cost of heavy sacrifices.

The joint ownership of all animate and inanimate stock, and the application of the cooperative principle to life and work naturally express themselves also in the structure of the settlement. If the Moshaw may be compared to a village, the outward appearance of the small Kwuzah (30 to 50 families) rather resembles a large farmstead, and the large Kwuzah (199 to 200 families) the large farms, similar to those of North America. Below a few examples are given of the planning of large as well as of small Kwutzoth.

Kwuzah Hagevah (The group of the Hill).

In planning the groupments of the individual farmsteads of a Kwuzah, the essential point is that its main parts should form an organic whole, thus retaining the interconnection between the individual parts. The farmyard of Kwuzah Hagevah, a settlement on a northern hill in the Emek Jesreel, can be taken as a typical example of its kind.

The main feature of this settlement (Pl. 25) is the large farmyard placed to the east of the dwellings, by which means the predominating west winds blow from the house to the stalls and keep off flies and stable odours from the house. West of the farmyard is a dwelling­house with garden, and the Children’s Home with its garden. Inside the farmyard, hard by the entrance, there is a small separate yard for carts, machine and tool sheds and workshops.

Seeing that the position of the farmyard in a Kwuzah, even more than in the Moshaw, determines the position of a number of more or less large buildings, special attention should be paid to the need of giving all buildings, destined for the permanent housing of men or cattle, a longi­tudinal axis approximately south to north, or in a vertical direction to the cool breezes. In this way cross-ventilation and plenty of sun is assured; with the buildings facing in the direction mentioned the comparatively mild eastern and western sun reaches their broad side, with only the narrow southern side exposed to the hot mid-day sun. The necessity to provide a position of this kind complicates the planning, because in nearly every case buildings of this nature are bound to predominate. The farmyard must, therefore, be planned in such a fashion that all the buildings, to which the above conditions do not apply, can be placed on its northern and southern sides, at the same time fitting them as well as possible into the general plan. Such an arrangement is facilitated by the fact that the poultry yard needs not only the southern sun, but also protection from the cool western breezes.

In accordance with the conditions set forth above, the living quarters for adults and children, and the children’s garden, have been placed in the western part, the poultry runs in the north, i.e., towards the farmyard open to the south, the cowsheds and stables, as well as the granary, in the east, while space for workshops and sheds has been reserved in the south. The kitchen, where work goes on uninterruptedly all day, commands a view of the whole yard. The communal dining room adjoins the kitchen. The one is moved out of the building line of the other, the dining-room being somewhat higher, so as to allow ventilation by the west wind.

To the west of this central point are situated the vegetable and the children’s garden, poultry runs to the north and yards for cows and horses to the east.

This plan provides for 20 families, 60 children, 1,000 chickens, 50 head of cattle, 20 horses.

Kwuzah Ain-Harod and Kwuzah Tel Joseph.

These two large Kwuzoth are situated on the southern slope of the Kumie hill in the northern part of the Emek Jesreel. This hill is the most prominent point of the region. Rising approximately in the middle of its northern part it is visible from all parts of this fertile valley. Accessible on the one hand to the cool western breezes, and on the other hand lying comparatively high, it represents the healthiest and most beautiful, there­fore the most favoured spot of the whole region. Yonder, where the southern part of the hill slopes down gently to the cultivated fields of the plain, the two large Kwuzoth, Ain Harod and Tel Joseph are to be estab­lished, Ain Harod west of the Wadi (mountain valley or river bed con­taining water only in the rainy season), and Tel Joseph east of the Wadi. According to the plan, the space provided for Ain Harod is to accommodate 200 families, 300 heads of large cattle, 50 head of young cattle, 80 horses, 600 sheep and goats, 7,000 hens and 15,000 chickens; ducks, geese and bees.

For Tel Joseph the accommodation will be for 150 families, 250 head of large cattle, 80 horses, 500 sheep and goats, 2,500 hens, 5,000 chickens, 500 ducks and geese, and bees, to which must be added space for lock­smiths’ workshops, a smithy, a carpentry, cartwright’s shop, sheds for agricultural implements, carts and machinery, lofts and store-rooms, as well as an area to the south near the railway station destined for the erection of buildings for an agricultural industry.

Ample possibilities for expanding the farmyard to east and west are provided. The top of the Kumie hill is to be crowned with communal buildings. Its steep, southern, eastern and northern slopes are to be afforested. Space has been reserved on the summit for the general Work­men’s Hospital (belonging to the Workmen’s Sick Fund), as also for a central school. Later on, a large common building for all the agricultural settlements in this region is to crown the topmost point of this, the most unique and beautiful mountain summit in this part of the plain. A building which will serve as a rallying point for and as a symbol of our best agricultural settlements.

To go into more detail would lead too far. The accompanying sketch represents a project which still requires revision. It is given in its present form merely to demonstrate my layout for large Kwutzoth.

Beth Alpha.

This (Pl. 25) is the most eastern settlement of the Emek and lies at the foot of the Gilboa mountains. Here, as well, two Kwutzoth will be established side by side, a large one, the first group of the ” Kibuz ” in the east, and a small one, the Kwuzah ” Chefzibah ” in the west. The position of the hill itself is not very favourable, being comparatively low at an altitude of 85m. below sea level already in the depressed zone of the Jordan source, but unfortunately no better place was available. The position of the hills has determined that of the settlements. The communal buildings, in this case the school, the Kindergarten, as well as the children’s quarters with the green strip for the garden towards the north, lie between the two settlements. To the east and to the west the outer slopes of the hills offer ample opportunity for future expansion. There are two alternatives for building a main road outside the settlement; either on its northern or on its southern side. The groups of dwelling– houses adjoining the school compound east and west are on the highest point of the flatter part of the hill. It seems worthy of note that the eastern Kwuzah is about to raise cattle on a large scale.

*     *     *     *

We are far from claiming that the plans sketched above represent the last word. In the same way as the conception and the working plan of the Moshaw and the Kwuzah are intended to produce maximum utilitarian results, do the above designs try to adapt themselves as best as may be to given conditions. Just as we shall go on trying to improve our farming methods, so will the endeavour have to be made over and over again to attain to the best possible results in laying out the settlements, and in making the plans elastic enough to admit of innovations.

IV. REGIONAL PLANNING, &c.

In the foregoing I have dealt with the town planning of various types of settlement in Palestine. Formerly there was no scope for regional planning on any large scale. Opportunity for it has only arisen through the acquisition in 1925 of a large connected area along the Bay of Haifa ­Acre, of approximately 20 km. This area (Pl. 27), and its adjoining districts, totalling 100,000 dunam (ca 10,000 ha) it is at present my task to work upon. In view of the above-mentioned prominent and exceptional position of Haifa, in relation to the Near East in general, and to Palestine in particular, the area will in all probability undergo the most varied and intensive stages of development of any in Palestine. As the designs are only in course of preparation now, no details can be published yet.

Architectural Projects

I also show two architectural plans which I have made for the electrification project of P. Rutenberg, Engineer, namely the power stations at Haifa and Tiberias, both in reinforced concrete (Pl. 26).

Execution of Town Planning Schemes

The above remarks were to serve as a commentary on my town planning schemes for various settlement types for the new Palestine. They were not meant to furnish data for carrying out the plans. This would have been distinctly premature, seeing that the settlements are being extended gradually, and are still to-day more or less in the building stage.

For that reason, it should be said here that the problems presented by the execution of these plans are as manifold as they are difficult. And as the town planner may not confine his activities to the mere working out of the plans, his task is of a very exacting nature. But this, too, does not fall within the scope of the present article.

I do not wish to conclude these remarks without grateful mention of my fellow-workers, in particular my colleague of many years, the architect, Miss Charlotte Cohn.

 

RICHARD  KAUFFMANN.

 



Eilat Needs Efficient Layout

by Richard Kauffmann

Member, Town Planning Institute

 

EILAT is on everyone’s mind and on everyone’s tongue today. The very word opens up hopes of a splendid future of cultural and com­mercial relations with Asia, Africa and Australia. But what decisive structure are we imparting to this focal point of such broad perspec­tives? Let us consider what must be done about an oppor­tunity that will never present itself again.

A model of the proposed Eilat town plan, prepared by the Town Planning Depart­ment of the Ministry of In­terior, was exhibited recently at the new Histadrut build­ing in Jerusalem. A photo­graph of this model, together with a descriptive article entitled “Planning a Red Sea Town” by Arieh Ephrat, ap­peared in The Jerusalem Post on April 15.

When I saw the model for the first time, I was dis­mayed at the lack of correla­tion between the projected harbour proper and what should normally have been its “hinterland” — the pro­jected communications, ware­house, commercial and industrial zone. In the projected layout of the town, its main working centres have been pulled apart, the lonely har­bour at one end and the com­mercial and industrial zones at the other. The harbour is to be built at the narrowest point of the coastal strip, just where the hills drop steeply into the sea.

From a technical point of view, this makes it easier to build the harbour, since the deep sea is not far offshore. But a harbour is not an object in itself: it can only be efficient if it is organically in­tegrated with the working town ft needs a hinterland of warehouse, commercial and industrial zones with room for all possible extensions, the ex­tent of which can hardly be foreseen today, and for pro­per communications by rail, road and possibly inland canals also, as well as helicopter and regular air services that are functionally related with it.

When I voiced this opinion to the head of the Planning Department, who had taken me to the exhibition, he told me that the place for the har­bour had been fixed by the Ministry of Development; and Mr. Ephrath’s article states that no fewer than three Min­istries — Interior, Develop­ment and Labour, had a say in the plan. Where is the co­ordinating Ministry of Plan­ning that was proposed by Professor Sir Patrick Aber­crombie in his report on a National Plan for Israel, and independently by this writer in The Jerusalem Post of De­cember I, 1952?

According to the present Plan, the residential town of Eilat will be laid out on the “gentle slope” to the north of the harbour. Here, in addi­tion to the fact that the areas near the shore should de­finitely be reserved for the harbour and the warehouse industrial and commercial areas, there is a consideration of climate which is of definite importance.

Housing Area

Eilat’s extreme summer heat is very trying, and it re­duces the residents’ working capacity as well as their well-being considerably. The new “coolers” to be installed in Eilat’s houses are merely a costly palliative. Yet the town has been blessed with a hillside rising some 800 metres to an extended plateau, where cool breezes and lower temper­atures would make it possible for the residents to recuperate during their hours of rest, recreation and sleep if the town’s residential quarters were built there, along with the schools, a hospital, etc. The relatively small housing quarter of today could be conceived as a downtown residential area that would not be further ex­panded. This measure is bound also to free valuable space for the future working town,

I beg not to be misunderstood. The last thing I want to do would be to detract from the planners’ interests or their achievements, but it seems to me that the whole layout of the port and the town should be reconsidered on the basis of an imaginative plan direct­ly connecting the harbour to be constructed at the head of the Gulf with its commercial and industrial section in the fiat parts near the seashore (where evaporating pans and palm-tree avenues are now envisaged) and pro­viding for the main residen­tial areas on the high plateau to the west.

In Haifa, where the cli­mate is far milder, an in­creasing proportion of the population seeks to live on the Carmel, now connected with the lower parts of the city with three roads, one of which climbs from Nesher to an altitude of 550 metres at the summit of the Carmel. A similar arrangement is im­perative for Eilat, where a road and a funiculaire to the uphill quarters should be planned,

The analogy with Haifa applies in yet another respect. When the British planned a harbour for Haifa about 1925, this writer opposed the pro­ject and suggested one of his own on the ground that the Mandatory scheme, planned by Palmer, Tritton and Randall, harbour engineers, only took technical consid­erations into account and did nothing to provide a proper ‘hinterland” for the harbour or to solve the issue of the simultaneous development of the city with its port.

The writer therefore pro­posed to locate the harbour in the south-east corner of the Bay and to develop part of it as an inland port around the Kishon — after canaliza­tion. The wide Kishon plain was the most suitable loca­tion for a business and in­dustrial area, and for a working town that would thus be intimately connected with its port and at the same time avoid the numerous bot­tlenecks that have since de­veloped in Haifa in this re­spect.

This advice was not heeded, and the difficulties in which the location of its harbour have involved Haifa since then are all too well known, resulting in an incalculable drain on our national income, the end of which is not yet in sight despite the fact that a new harbour is at last arising on the Kishon, at the spot proposed by the writer over 30 years ago.

We must not make the same error at Eilat. What was a mistake in Haifa may prove irreparable there.

In 1925 the Jewish Agency leadership, under the guid­ance of Arlosoroff, were in favour of the Kishon solution, but the last word rested with the British.

Today the last word is with us.

________________________________________________________________________

 (Editor’s note: This is an OCR version of an article published June 14, 1957 in the Jerusalem Post). The drawing in the article is not representative of Richard Kauffmann’s work and was likely drawn by a Jerusalem Post staff person.