Zionist Architecture and Town Planning
242 pages
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242 pages
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Established as a Jewish settlement in 1909 and dedicated a year later, Tel Aviv has grown over the last century to become Israel’s financial center and the country’s second largest city. This book examines a major period in the city’s establishment when Jewish architects moved from Europe, including Alexander Levy of Berlin, and attempted to establish a new style of Zionist urbanism in the years after World War I. The author explores the interplay of an ambitious architectural program and the pragmatic needs that drove its chaotic implementation during a period of dramatic population growth. He explores the intense debate among the Zionist leaders in Berlin in regard to future Jewish settlement in the land of Israel after World War I, and the difficulty in imposing a town plan and architectural style based on European concepts in an environment where they clashed with desires for Jewish revival and self-identity. While “modern” values advocated universality, Zionist ideas struggled with the conflict between the concept of “New Order” and traditional and historical motifs. As well as being the first detailed study of the formative period in Tel Aviv’s development, this book presents a valuable case study in nation-building and the history of Zionism. Meticulously researched, it is also illustrated with hundreds of plans and photographs that show how much of the fabric of early twentieth century Tel Aviv persists in the modern city.

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Date de parution 15 novembre 2013
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9781612492988
Langue English

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Zionist Architecture and Town Planning
The Building of Tel Aviv (1919-1929)
Shofar Supplements in Jewish Studies
Zev Garber, Editor Los Angeles Valley College
Zionist Architecture and Town Planning
The Building of Tel Aviv (1919-1929)
Nathan Harpaz
Purdue University Press / West Lafayette, Indiana
Copyright 2013 by Purdue University. All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Harpaz, Nathan, author.
   Zionist Architecture and Town Planning: The Building of Tel Aviv (1919 - 1929) / Nathan Harpaz.
       pages cm. -- (Shofar Supplements in Jewish Studies)
   Includes bibliographical references and index.
   ISBN 978-1-55753-673-0 (pbk.) -- ISBN 978-1-61249-297-1 (epdf) -- ISBN 978-1-61249-298-8 (epub) 1. Tel Aviv (Israel)--History. 2. Tel Aviv (Israel)--Buildings, structures, etc. I. Title.
   DS110.T34H37 2014
   307.1’2160956948--dc23
2013024413
Cover photo: Detail of the Palm House façade, Tel Aviv. Photo by Nathan Harpaz
Contents
Preface and Acknowledgments
Introduction
Part 1: Theories on Zionist Architecture and Town Planning
1 The Concept of Modernity in Early Twentieth-Century Architecture and Town Planning
2 The Zionist Movement’s Approach to Advanced Plans in Architecture and Town Planning
3 Zionist Architecture and Town Planning in the Early Twentieth Century
Part 2: Alexander Levy: Building and Housing in New Palestine, Berlin 1920
4 The Origins of the Plan
5 The Building Company
6 The Crucial Matter of Building Materials
7 Models of Houses
8 The Arrangement of Houses
9 Standardization in the Building Industry
10 A Comparison of Levy’s Proposal to Other Plans
11 The Failure of Levy’s Plan
Part 3: Eclectic Architecture and Chaotic Town Planning in Tel Aviv, 1919-1929
12 The Garden City of Ahuzat-Bayit
13 The Transformation of Tel Aviv into a Commercial City
14 Bezalel and Tel Aviv
15 The Search for Local Original Style
16 Eclectic Architecture
17 Patronage, Public Involvement, and the Media
18 Laborers’ Organizations and the Beginning of Housing for the Workers
19 Levy and the Tel Aviv Experience
Part 4: Conclusion
20 Conclusion
Bibliography
Appendix I: Ernst Herrmann’s Survey of Building in Palestine
Appendix II: Maps of Palestine, Jaffa, and Tel Aviv
Index
Preface and Acknowledgments
Born in Tel Aviv, I have been fascinated by the history of the city and its unique architecture from an early age. Two individuals in particular inspired me and influenced not only the direction of my career, but also the themes to which I was attracted. My maternal grandfather was a designer who studied art and design in Berlin, Germany, at the turn of the twentieth century. He emigrated to Tel Aviv in 1920, but, since the small settlement offered no work for a designer, he traveled on to Alexandria, Egypt, to seek work in his field. Several years later, he returned to Tel Aviv to find the small village developing rapidly and dramatically into a busy city. My father’s cousin, Hersh Fenster, was a writer who lived in Paris in the first half of the twentieth century, and was associated with Marc Chagall and other artists of the “School of Paris.” In 1951, he published the first book about artists who perished during the Holocaust, which later became the primary source for an exhibition on that topic.
I found in the intriguing life of architect Alexander Levy, who is one of the central figures in this book, several connections to my family’s history. Levy and my maternal grandfather acquired their artistic education in Berlin, both got involved with Zionism and arrived in Tel Aviv during the same year (1920), and both struggled financially trying to pursue their professions. My grandfather stayed in Tel Aviv in spite of the difficulties, while Levy returned to Europe and, like my paternal grandparents and my uncle from Vienna, perished in Auschwitz.
In the early 1970s, as a young undergraduate student at Tel Aviv University, I began photographing old buildings in the historic sections of Tel Aviv. At the time, I could not predict that this hobby would figure prominently in my field of academic expertise. Over the years, my collection of images has expanded and gained greater significance, as many of the documented buildings were demolished or altered. A complete set of these photos is in the collection of the Tel Aviv Historical Museum, and many of them illustrate this book.
During graduate school, the topic of 1920s architecture in Tel Aviv became the core of my MA dissertation. This pioneer research resulted in “Art and Architecture in Tel Aviv: 1920–1930.” This publication earned the Tel Aviv University Kaplan Award for the most original academic study, and it remains an essential resource for any research of this period and location. Over the years, I have published many other articles on this topic in professional magazines in Israel.
In 1985, Graham Jahn, research editor of the London-based International Architect magazine, invited me to assist him with an issue dedicated to Israeli modernism. My contributions to this publication included biographies of architects, a history of 1920s architecture, and research on the urban development of Tel Aviv since its establishment. During the 1980s, I became an advocate for the preservation of historic buildings in Tel Aviv and actively served on several relevant committees. This work resulted in the granting of landmark status to many historic buildings and the creation of various restoration programs.
In 2003, UNESCO declared Tel Aviv a World Heritage Site because the city is home to the world’s largest collection of Bauhaus and International Style buildings. Tel Aviv, which started as a small garden city north of the ancient city of Jaffa, turned rapidly into a bustling metropolis, and in 2009 the city celebrated its centennial. In recent years the awareness of the significance of Tel Aviv’s architecture has increased; more buildings have been granted status as protected landmarks, many of them have been renovated, and new literature on the history of the city’s architecture and monographs on its architects have been published. The study in this book, based on over thirty year of research, will hopefully contribute another source of insight into architecture and town planning during the early years of the first Hebraic city in modern times.
As this book is a product of my doctoral research, I would like to acknowledge the dedicated assistance of professor, M. Willson Williams, of Union Institute & University during my doctoral program. I would also like to thank my doctoral committee members for their significant contribution: Richard Courage, Westchester College; David M. Sokol, University of Illinois, Chicago; Sandra M. Sufian, University of Illinois, Chicago; and Volker Werner Welter, University of California in Santa Barbara. I would like also to acknowledge my colleagues and friends who accompanied me on my journey with support and enthusiasm, including Marian Staats of Oakton Community College and architect Georg Stahl of Chicago.
I would like to express special gratitude to my mentors and teachers from the Department of Art History at Tel Aviv University who planted the first seed of my intellectual interest during my early studies: Mordechai Omer, Gila Balas, Edina Meyer-Maril, and architect Abraham Erlik. I would also acknowledge the generous assistance of Tel Aviv advocates and researchers Micha Gross (Bauhaus Center, Tel Aviv), Shula Widrich, and Shay Farkash.
I would like to thank the following institutions and individuals for their permission to reprint images in this publication: Tel Aviv Museum of Art; Gutman Museum, Tel Aviv; Bauhaus Center, Tel Aviv (Ravid’s books on Joseph Berlin and Josef Tischler); Architect Gilead Duvshani (Yehuda Magidovitch); The State of Israel—National Photo Collection; The Central Zionist Archives, Jerusalem; the Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.; the University of Texas Libraries; the Department of Special Collections and University Archives, Stanford University Libraries; and the Hebrew University, Department of Geography & the Jewish National & University Library.
Finally, I would like to thank my family who stood behind me throughout this exhilarating experience: my wife Miriam, my daughters Ally and Sharon, and my extended family in Israel. I dedicate this book to my mother, Yonah Kaplan-Fenster, who was born in Tel Aviv in 1925 when many parts of the city were still sand dunes, a playground for her as a young barefoot girl in the middle of a new, developing neighborhood, and to my father, Baruch Arthur Fenster, who left his home in Vienna as a young adult to escape the horror of World War II and rebuild his life in the city of Tel Aviv, which means “Old-New.”
Introduction
This book examines advanced architectural plans motivated by Zionist ideas and the implementation of these plans driven by pragmatic needs. The balance between these forces shaped the architecture and town planning in the Land of Israel after World War I. In this work I concentrate on postwar Zionist building concepts as they are represented in architect Alexander Levy’s plan, Building and Housing in New Palestine , and the implementation of eclectic architecture and chaotic town planning in Tel Aviv in the 1920s. The city of Tel Aviv, as a new entity that served almost as a laboratory for modern experimentation during that time, is my main focus.
The ideology of the Zionist movement was based on utopian ideas that later were transformed into real applications. The time frame of this study starts in 1909, with the foundation of Tel Aviv north of the old city of Jaffa, but focuses on the dramatic growth of the city between 1919 and 1929. It ends with the implementation of the Geddes master plan in the northern part of Tel Aviv and the beginning of the utilization of the International Style. I depict the first decade (1909–1919) and the next decade (the 1930s) in less detail, yet as relevant to the focal point of the study.
While the theoretical plan for Jewish housing by architect Alexander Levy, written in Berlin in 1920, covers all of Palestine, my geographic focus is Tel Aviv as the first modern Jewish urban entity. Given that Alexander Levy arrived in Palestine during the early 1920s and erected most of his buildings in Tel Aviv, I aim in this comparative study to illuminate the gap between his theoretical plan and his realization of a pragmatic approach. My purpose is to examine and evaluate architectural and urban structures as they result from ideal or advanced formulas or pragmatic applications. I assess the Zionist movement’s promotion of ideal and advanced models in architecture and town planning, and point out the association between modernity and Zionist ideology. I examine the transformation of Tel Aviv into a central site for experimentation in modern architecture and urban planning in the early twentieth century, tracking the development of the city from ideal model to eclectic architecture and chaotic town planning, and also identify the European origins of Levy’s plan, its relationship to the Zionist organization, and the reason for its failure.
I argue that theoretical Zionist plans in architecture and town planning based on European concepts were difficult to implement, as they clashed with the desires for Jewish revival and self-identity. While modern values advocated universality, Zionist ideas struggled with the conflict between the concept of “New Order” and traditional and historical motifs.
My assumptions are based on the historiography of architecture. The significance of this book lies in its exploration of the dynamic between ideal concepts and pragmatic activities that can be applied to other studies in the history of architecture and town planning, as it addresses international developments such as the model of the garden city, standardization of the building industry, cooperative housing, Geddes’s concepts of modern town planning, and the massive application of the International Style in architecture. The city of Tel Aviv in the 1930s led the world in the execution of modernity in architecture.
Previous publications on this topic have dealt with the adoption of modern and advanced plans in architecture by the Zionist movement and provided historical data for the implementation of Zionist settlements. My research examines the relationship between specific theoretical plans and pragmatic implementations. The comprehensive plan of Alexander Levy for housing in Palestine is fully presented and analyzed here for the first time. I provide a glimpse into the fierce debate among Zionists in Berlin on how to manage Jewish settlement in Palestine after World War I. My analysis also uniquely reveals the gap between the theoretically advanced plans of the Zionist movement in regard to architecture and town planning and the actual chaos and regression that occurred throughout the development of Tel Aviv in the 1920s.
The history of architecture and town planning are commonly discussed by scholars such as art historians or architectural historians. Because the medium of architecture is based on an interaction between function and aesthetics, any exploration of the field must encompass knowledge of other disciplines. In addition to the history of art, architecture, and urban planning in modern time, I incorporate in my analysis other disciplines such as Jewish and Israeli history and the philosophy of modern social-political movements.
Some recent studies on the Zionist architecture and town planning in the early twentieth century emerged from other fields such as geography, urban studies, history, and political science. The advantage of applying the field of art history to this given topic is the interdisciplinary dimension that extends the lens of exploration. Philosophically, the research methods of the history of architecture are connected to those of art history and general history. The main idea of empiric methodology is to evaluate historical facts from an “objective” distance. This approach was used by Henry Russell Hitchcock in Architecture: Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries , in which the author avoids any interpretation at all; he describes the buildings and provides their locations, dates, and architects. This limited, purely empirical, approach raises questions about the scope and the objectivity of the research.
Various other methods in the history of architecture focused on specific aspects and were occasionally motivated by trends in the field. Some researchers emphasized social history and related their studies to those who inhabit various architectural structures. Others concentrated on political history, dealing, for instance, with ideology or gender. And some writers turned to operative history to promote a subjective reflection on architecture. While historians of architectural history who engaged in current architectural debates were often more objective, architectural history that was conducted by architects could have been motivated by an architect’s personal agenda or interest in current architecture. English architectural critic Reyner Banham, for example, advocated modern technology in his architectural writing because he was influenced by Sigfried Giedion’s Space, Time and Architecture . Juan Bonta, in Architecture and Its Interpretation , criticizes the subjective views of the major writers attempting to capture the development of modern architecture. Bonta demonstrates how different experts provided widely variable evaluations of specific architectural works due to the absence of more scientific methods of research.
Today, the most common research method for the history of architecture is an interdisciplinary approach. Modern architectural research, like the study in this book, mines other disciplines to find interpretative frameworks, research methods, and primary and secondary sources. The methodology of architectural history used here also involves qualitative research. I follow Norman Denzin and Yvonne Lincoln, authors of a comprehensive three-volume handbook on the subject, who suggest that qualitative research concentrates on multi-methods, integrating an interpretive, naturalistic approach to its subject matter. Therefore, qualitative researchers study different materials in their natural setting, and provide interpretations to the phenomena. Qualitative research involves the studied use and collection of a variety of empirical materials.
The process of qualitative research in the field of architectural history starts with data collection. The techniques of data collection range from conducting interviews, focus groups, surveys, and observation to researching artifacts and buildings or archival documents. The next step is to reduce the data to a manageable scope by coding it and eliminating any irrelevant information. The data are then displayed in charts, graphs, or tables, and, in the last step, the researcher identifies patterns, provides explanation, and evaluates the findings.
The strengths of qualitative research as it is manifested in this book are its capacity to take in rich, holistic qualities of real life circumstances; its flexibility in design that includes procedures allowing adjustments in the process; and its sensitivity to the meanings of artifacts and processes of human activity. The weaknesses of qualitative research are the challenges of dealing with vast quantities of data, the lack of established sets of guidelines or systematic procedures, and the questionable credibility of qualitative data within the post-positivist paradigm. Though qualitative research emerged from the social sciences, this research method remains similar to the interpretive-historical method used in the history of architecture. The processes of collecting data, coding, displaying, and evaluating are all applicable and relevant. The field of architecture utilizes humans as subjects of research in its study of human interactions inside architects’ studios, human behaviors inside architectural structures, and the engagement between architects and their clients.
Although the research in this book does not include humans as subjects—because it is historical in nature and the subjects are artifacts (buildings)—it works with many components of qualitative research. This study benefits from the concepts of qualitative research in the areas of comparative study and evaluation of the gap between theory and practice. Architectural structures constitute “natural settings” and can be researched through qualitative parameters. My research also incorporates “grounded theory,” in which data leads to ideas and conclusions.
In addition, I apply “interpretive historical research” in my analysis. This method offers an investigation into social-physical phenomena within complex contexts, with a view toward explaining those phenomena in a holistic, narrative form. Historical inquiry is similar to qualitative inquiry; in both, the researcher attempts to collect as much evidence as possible concerning a complex social phenomenon and seeks to provide an account of it. Historical inquiry requires searching for evidence, collecting and organizing that evidence, evaluating it, and constructing a narrative that is complete and believable.
My collection of data or evidence consisted of researching manuscripts, documents, correspondence, photographs, architectural plans, and buildings. Next, identification and organization included identifying sources, gathering facts, observing, taking notes, and filing or organizing data. Evaluation dealt with description, analysis, assessment, determination of truth, and triangulation. Finally, narration generated description and “story.”
This study adapts the approach of historiography of modern architecture with the method of the grounded theory where the data collection leads to the theory of the research. It deals with change in architectural styles as a reflection of place, time, and ideology. This approach also enables the application of qualitative research strategies to achieve greater credibility and accurate results.
The data in this book, which was collected over three decades, and the examination of its research material provide insight into the mind and soul of the Zionist movement in a crucial time. The results of World War I generated new hopes to the future of the settlement of Jews in Palestine. Even though some advanced plans, like Levy’s proposal, for building in the “new-old” homeland were executed, the implementation of such programs failed in the early stage. The city of Tel Aviv missed the opportunity to adapt modernity in the decade after the war and submerged itself into chaotic town planning and eclectic architectural styles. Finally, in the 1930s the gap between the theoretical and the practical was closed and Tel Aviv turned into a global center for modernity and advancement.
Part 1
Theories on Zionist Architecture and Town Planning
Chapter 1
The Concept of Modernity in Early Twentieth-Century Architecture and Town Planning
The examination of architects and movements of early modern architecture and town planning is a vital part of this study. European architects and town planners significantly influenced the urban vision of the Zionist movement in theory, on such projects as the Levy plan (1920), on the implementation of plans such as the garden city (Tel Aviv, 1909) and Geddes’s town planning (1929), and on the extensive use of the International Style (1930s).
Modern architecture emerged in the early twentieth century with a dramatic change in the relationship between aesthetics and function. It followed the concept of “form follows function” and eliminated historic styles and overuse of ornamentation. During the first half of the twentieth century, modern architecture was considered experimental, and it gained massive popularity only after World War II.
Though some scholars associate the development of modern architecture with social and political revolutions, 1 others see it as a reflection of progress in science and technology. The Sources of Modern Architecture and Design , for example, focuses on the masses: mass education, mass entertainment, mass transportation, universities with huge enrollments, hospitals with thousands of beds, and stadiums seating hundreds of thousands. 2 The element of the masses together with the speed of transportation expressed the “technological fanaticism of the age.” 3 Science, technology, mass transportation, mass communication, and mass production and consumption all affected the development of modern architecture and design. They also reflected the predominance of the city over the small town and the country, as architects tried to develop solutions to problems encountered in designing for the masses by using new materials and new techniques. 4
The first criterion of modern architecture was that architecture for the masses must be functional. This idea was a continuation of the principles of French seventeenth- and eighteenth-century rationalism. In 1841, Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin (1812–1852), Great Britain’s foremost architect and designer of the nineteenth century, wrote in True Principles of Christian Architecture that “there should be no features about a building which are not necessary for convenience, construction, or propriety … the smallest detail should … serve a purpose, and construction itself should vary with the material employed.” 5
Other key movements in the early stage of Modernism were the English Arts and Crafts and the German Werkbund. The German Work Federation (Werkbund) was cofounded in 1907 by Herrmann Muthesius, author of The English House (1905), who surveyed practical aspects of the Arts and Crafts movement. The Werkbund’s goal was to integrate crafts with techniques of industrial mass production. Muthesius stated in 1914 that architecture was moving toward standardization (“Typisierung”) and claimed that only standardization could introduce a universally valid, self-certain taste. 6 At the Cologne Werkbund Exhibition of 1914, there were two powerful buildings on display, the Glass House by Bruno Taut and the Halle des Machines by Walter Gropius. Taut’s structure was a prophecy of the geodesic domes to come, and Gropius’s building was influenced by Peter Behrens and Frank Lloyd Wright (two publications about Wright were issued in Berlin in 1910 and 1911). 7
One of the participants in the Werkbund was the German architect Peter Behrens, whose studio was a training facility for architects such as Mies van der Rohe, Gropius, and Le Corbusier. Behrens became rapidly famous because he approached the industrial plant as an architectonic problem and transformed the factory into a dignified place to work. Beside classical elements, he used new materials such as steel and glass to provoke expressive forces. 8 Behrens and his theory of inexpensive housing would later become a major inspiration to Alexander Levy’s plan for Jewish housing in Palestine.
The International Style became the mainstream of modern architecture in the 1920s and 1930s. The term originated from the book written by Henry-Russell Hitchcock and Philip Johnson in conjunction with the International Exhibition of Modern Architecture at the Museum of Modern Art in New York in 1932. They identified categories of modern architecture that expanded across the world. In an attempt to define the architectural style of their time, they identified three principles key to its expression: volume rather than mass, balance rather than preconceived symmetry, and the expulsion of applied ornament. 9
Le Corbusier, a prominent architect of the International Style, introduced the free pillar method which created open space in the ground floor of a dwelling, carrying the load of the structure and leaving the walls without the function of supporting the building. He also emphasized the functional independence of the skeleton and the wall: the skeleton became not only a functional device, but also a vehicle of aesthetics. The inside partitions were used for expressive purpose and spaces alternated between inner and outer ones. Le Corbusier also promoted the roof terrace and saw the flat roof as a spatial extension of the house.
Walter Gropius and the Bauhaus also had a significant impact on the development of modern architecture and the International Style. The school of the Bauhaus continued the idea of the Werkbund in its goal “to unite art and industrial life and to find the keynote for a sound contemporary architecture.” 10 The Bauhaus under Gropius used architecture as an inter-medium to unite both art and industry and art and daily life. 11 The new Bauhaus building, designed by Gropius at Dessau in 1926, became a major model for modern public and commercial buildings. Gropius demolished the traditional concept of a symmetric and centralized design by separating each section of the building according to its specific function. Each wing of the building was independent and its form followed its function. The Bauhaus building also revealed the application of the glass curtain as a major design element that would be adapted by the International Style. It was the most revolutionary structure in early modernism. 12
Town planning was also part of the modern revolution, as the city of the nineteenth century had been criminally neglected by architects and by governments as well. 13 The problem of the cities was rapid population growth along with the existence of industry inside populated sections. This led to the concept of “garden cities” or “garden suburbs.” It was an important development but not the end solution. The existing cities posed the main problems, as Tony Garnier (1869–1948), author of the “Industrial City,” foresaw: While Ebenezer Howard, the father of the garden city, was a social reformer, Garnier introduced the potential architect-planners employed by a government department or a city council. 14
Inspired by Edward Bellamy’s utopian novel Looking Backward , Ebenezer Howard (1850–1928) wrote To-Morrow: A Peaceful Path to Real Reform (1898), later published as Garden Cities of To-Morrow (1902). In this work, Howard proposed the establishment of urban structures as a synthesis of town and country that would benefit their residents by combining the positive qualities of both the economic development and social life of the city and the environmental advantages and affordable housing of rural areas. Howard summarized this concept in the illustration of three magnets: town, country, and town-country. 15 In 1899 Howard founded the Garden City Association, later known as the Town and Country Planning Association. It resulted in the establishment of two garden cities: Letchworth, in 1903, and Welwyn, in the early 1920s, both in Hertfordshire, England.
Howard’s ideas were developed at the same time that many utopians and reformers were attempting to remedy urban and social ills resulting from the Industrial Revolution. These utopians were motivated by the concept of a golden age regarding notions of ideal community and social systems. They dealt with the dilemma of detaching communities from a broken social order and tried to define the corruption within current social systems. 16
Various models for treating urban problems in England developed during the late nineteenth century. The “model communities” idea was created by industrialists or other sponsors to promote their ideal industrial society. The model of “alternative communities” grew out of ideologies that went against the established order to solve social problems. In this category of alternative communities we find utopian socialism, aiming to achieve social change for the working class; agrarian socialism, promoting the idea of getting back to the land; sectarian groups, escaping society to fulfill religious beliefs and practices; and anarchist communities, rejecting central control and choosing more cooperative methods. 17
Howard’s model has had an enduring influence upon future town planning because he responded to the problems of his time with appropriate solutions for them. Howard found a compromise between the modification of the liberal system and the desire to provide an alternative way of living and working away from established urban areas. 18 Howard’s garden city had a significant impact on future urban planning, but had problems with achieving social goals in urban planning designed within a liberal democracy. The ideal of the garden city was significant to urban planning achievements throughout the world because it was actually built, whereas other urban concepts were merely theoretical. Howard’s vision revealed the core dilemmas of liberal democracy: the development of the garden city brought significant improvement in living conditions, but it did not fulfill social ideals. 19 The concept of the garden city still has relevance in the twenty-first century as a model for significant regional development on “Greenfield” sites. Howard’s three magnets diagram is still effective with current adjustments as it attracts small towns set in the country and has influenced the New Urbanism, a movement in the United States that promotes walkable neighborhoods with a variety of housing and job types. 20
Limiting the size of a community was one of the main features in Howard’s thesis. In Howard’s theory, this prevented the self-destructive forces of an ever-expanding metropolis, and increased social interaction and culture within the community. The problem of the modern suburbs is the lack of size limitation as well. In relation to a community’s size Howard designed the greenbelt, an effective town planning device to control growth that could be applied for different purposes: agriculture and rural life preservation, natural and heritage conservation, recreation creation, or pollution protection. 21
The urban form of the garden city is an important topic in this study, as some activists of the Zionist movement, in particular Davis Trietsch, promoted the garden city model and perceived it as an idealistic and advanced form of town planning. Tel-Aviv was founded in 1909 after the European model of the garden city. After World War I, Tel Aviv lost its original garden city design and rapidly became a crowded metropolitan. The garden city idea is discussed in the Levy plan of 1920, and it also influenced the formation of new types of rural Zionist settlements.
Patrick Geddes (1854–1932), a biologist, geographer, educator, political activist, and urban planner, had an enormous impact on modern town planning. 22 In 1879 Geddes first encountered the social theories of Frederic Le Play and they greatly influenced him, making him aware of the effects of environmental and geographical factors on existing social structures. 23 French scholars influenced Geddes in many other ways, for instance, the geographical concept of regionalism, which would lie at the core of his urban studies. Geddes was impressed by Auguste Comte’s evolutionary development of science, which placed the social sciences above mathematics, logic, physics, chemistry, and biology. 24
Geddes’s busy mind developed three-dimensional “thinking machines” that synthesized knowledge from geography, economics, and anthropology. These thinking machines attempted to show the interrelatedness of different areas within the social sciences. Geddes was also interested in civics, which concerns relations between individuals and the environment. He saw the earth as a cooperative planet where people should be taught how to properly treat their environment. Specifically, Geddes’s web of life aimed to educate children, to improve people’s physical quality of life by using new biological knowledge to produce better medicines, and to understand humans’ influence on ecology. These ideas led to his notion of Eutopia, a utopia that was realizable here and now. 25
While Ebenezer Howard was working with his garden cities movement, Geddes looked at problems of existing cities in order to link social reform and the urban environment, not only in small towns, but also in larger urban areas. 26 In 1918, Geddes became involved in the Zionist movement, turning his interest to Jerusalem and Palestine. After five years of traveling back and forth between India and Dundee College in Scotland, the prospect of working in Jerusalem seemed to him a culmination of all his dreams. 27 While working with David Eder (1865–1936) of the Zionist Commission, he suggested a comprehensive survey of Jerusalem that would evaluate the past and present as well as future possibilities, wanting his architectural style and good city planning to encourage the integration of Palestinians, Arabs, and Jews. Geddes received the commission’s permission to plan the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, and his plan made use of his ideas about synthesizing knowledge and promoting an intimate relationship between university, city, and region. Geddes left his mark on the university with the building of the Dome, which he envisioned as a sign of unity. 28 In 1925, Mayor Meir Dizengoff asked Geddes to submit a master plan for Tel Aviv. Geddes’s plan, which called for Tel Aviv to be a European garden city, outlined the development of the northern part of Tel Aviv (since the southern part had already been built up); it was approved in 1929 and influenced the shape of the city for years to come. 29
There were four major features of the Geddes plan for Tel Aviv. The first component was the grid of streets: major streets running from south to north, intersected by widely spaced east-west secondary roads and wide green boulevards, with minor streets penetrating the large blocks. The second element was the design of large city blocks for domestic dwellings, including standardized, mostly detached buildings, each with a maximum of two stories and a flat roof. The third feature was the design of each block of dwellings around a central open space, and the fourth was the creation of a concentration of cultural institutes to function as a civic center. 30
Geddes did not follow his contemporary planners with the attempt to separate the old cities from their “cities of tomorrow,” but “he closely knit together the new Tel Aviv with the original neighborhood of Ahuzat Bayit (later Tel Aviv), the ancient city of Jaffa, and the latter’s outlying neighborhoods.” 31
Another unique chapter in modern town planning is the urban solution for working class housing. The Industrial Revolution in nineteenth-century Europe created a crisis in proper living conditions for the rapidly developing cities. Some solutions for working class housing during the nineteenth century provided cooperative housing promoted by factory owners near their work sites. Such solutions failed to create healthy environments because they were too close to the polluted factories, and they generated dependency and conflicts between workers and factory owners.
Other solutions, utopian in nature, like the garden city or the industrial city, were too idealistic and difficult to implement (as was discussed in the previous review of the garden city). The German garden city movement before World War I dealt with working class housing and models for such projects were already presented at the Third German Applied Arts Exhibition in Dresden in 1906. Architect Max Taut produced simple workers’ cottages set in functional gardens. These types of dwellings depicted idyllic workers’ homes that were the opposite of those lived in by the majority of German workers in overcrowded cities. The issue of workers’ housing came also to realization through the activities of the German garden city movement before World War I. In the first establishment of the garden city of Hellerau near Dresden, Richard Riemerschmid, the chief designer of the project, designed the general plan, the factory, and the first row-house developments for workers. Riemerschmid used two concepts in his plans for workers’ housing: different “types” of models and the use of standardized materials. 32
After World War I the development of housing accommodations for the working class focused on the urban environment, with the implementation of modern town planning and architecture. While unique developments can be identified in each European nation, there are striking similarities in five major factors that had an impact on working class housing between 1880 and 1930. The most critical one was the poverty of urban working class families. Low wages of European workers resulted in low rent housing and poor living conditions. The second factor was the fact that the building industry could not provide low cost units because of insufficient profit and unattractive investment. The third factor involved the increasing organization of the working class, as labor unions and the new social democratic political parties granted the working class electoral power. These new political entities put pressure on governments to develop state initiatives for housing solutions. The fourth factor was the ideology behind private property and the traditional family. The fifth element was the emergence of a permanent and growing government bureaucracy, which rapidly developed its own interests. 33
Historically, at the beginning of the twentieth century elite groups acknowledged that the problem of working class housing could cause social instability. Given this fear, building regulations were established and tax incentives were offered to builders, but politicians hesitated to intervene with the private market, and there were few examples of working class housing constructed by municipalities and cooperative societies. The shortage of urban workers’ housing accelerated by the end World War I, and the demands for reform intensified, too. As a result, more government financed construction was executed, but the main supplier remained the private market. 34
The implementation of working class housing between the wars in Europe followed the spread of the International Style. Working class housing projects were erected in many European countries and were designed by the most prominent architects of that era. In the 1920s Walter Gropius took part in Germany’s solution to the shortage of middle- and working-class dwellings. Gropius designed a large number of such apartments and housing colonies in Berlin, Dessau, Frankfort-on-Main, and Karlsruhe. The second congress of CIAM (The International Congress for Modern Architecture) in 1929 at Frankfort was initiated by Ernst May, head of the city’s Department of Housing, Planning and Building. In his office, May displayed drawings of low income housing. Among the architects who participated in this congress were Walter Gropius and Alvar Aalto. The plan for the extension of the city of Amsterdam in 1934 was designed by the Department of Public Works. One section of the plan was a residential area for workers employed around the dockyards and in the neighboring industrial plants. The general extension plan did not destroy the rural belt around the city. Land unsuitable for building was converted into wooded areas. The masses of houses were broken up by strips of greenery of various dimensions. The actual building of residential units was carried out by private enterprise or cooperative societies, though the city had full control over the ground plan, the façade, and the location of different types of housing. 35
Gropius’s concern with the impact of industrialism upon architecture realized in Gropius’s work on mass housing, such as the workers’ housing at Toerten, Dessau (1926–1927); the proposal for high-rise flats at Wannsee (1931); or in the middle-class apartments at Siemensstadt (1929). Gropius proposed the use of prefabricated elements in buildings as early as 1909, when he drafted a proposal for advanced industrial techniques to produce standardized panels for housing projects. 36
The topic of working class housing is discussed in two segments of this book. Architect Alexander Levy in his theoretical paper of 1920 designed a workers’ housing project for the city of Haifa, Israel. Levy’s plans for this proposed project were inspired directly by the German garden city movement before World War I regarding the distribution of the units, the choice of several “types” of units, and the use of standardized building materials. Another part of this book discusses cooperative housing implemented in the northern part of Tel Aviv during the 1930s. Most of these cooperative housing projects were designed by the architect Arieh Sharon, a graduate of the Bauhaus, and were initiated by the labor movement. Sharon’s design was influenced by European projects of grouping apartment buildings for the working class and the application of the International Style. They were similar to working class apartment complexes designed in Germany during the late 1920s and early 1930s by architects such as Walter Gropius and Hans Scharoun.
Notes
1. Christopher Crouch, Modernism in Art, Design and Architecture (New York: St. Martin’s, 1999).
2. Nikolaus Pevsner, The Sources of Modern Architecture and Design (New York: Thames and Hudson, 1985), 7-8.
3. Ibid.
4. Ibid.
5. Ibid., 9.
6. Ibid., 179.
7. Ibid., 179-80.
8. Siegfried Giedion, Space, Time and Architecture (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1967), 479.
9. Henry-Russell Hitchcock and Philip Johnson. The International Style (New York: Norton, 1996).
10. Siegfried Giedion, Space , 486.
11. Ibid., 489.
12. Ibid., 496.
13. Pevsner, Sources , 192.
14. Ibid., 197.
15. Ebenezer Howard and Frederic James Osborn, Garden Cities of To-Morrow (Cambridge: M. I. T. Press, 1965).
16. Dennis Hardy, Alternative Communities in Nineteenth Century England (London: Longman, 1979).
17. Ibid.
18. Ibid.
19. Alan March, “Democratic Dilemmas, Planning and Ebenezer Howard’s Garden City,” Planning Perspectives 19 (October 2004): 409.
20. Peter Geoffrey Hall and Colin Ward, Sociable Cities: The Legacy of Ebenezer Howard (Chichester, West Sussex, England: J. Wiley, 1998).
21. Ibid.
22. Joshua Cantor, “Patrick Geddes: Social Evolutionist and City Planner,” Center for Sustainable Cities at the University of Kentucky (Lexington: University of Kentucky, 1996).
23. Ibid.
24. Ibid.
25. Ibid.
26. Ibid.
27. Ibid.
28. Ibid.
29. Mordechai Naor, ed., Tel Aviv at the Beginning 1909-1934 (Jerusalem: Idan, 1984), 58.
30. Volker Welter, “The 1925 Master Plan for Tel-Aviv by Patrick Geddes,” Israel Studies 14, no. 3 (2009): 94-119.
31. Ibid.
32. John V. Maciuika, Before the Bauhaus: Architecture, Politics, and the German State, 1890-1920 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005).
33. Colin G. Pooley, Housing Strategies in Europe, 1880-1930 (Leicester: Leicester University Press, 1992).
34. Ibid.
35. Giedion, Space , 697.
36. James Marston Fitch, Walter Gropius . The Masters of World Architecture Series (New York: G. Braziller, 1960).
Chapter 2
The Zionist Movement’s Approach to Advanced Plans in Architecture and Town Planning
Zionism, a utopian conception that also borrowed humanitarian concepts from socialism, is the ideology behind the settlement of Jews in Palestine during the late nineteenth century and early twentieth centuries. The methods of establishing settlement companies and purchasing lands, building practices, architectural styles, and town planning were all inspired by Zionist concepts.
Theodor Herzl (1860–1904), the founder of the Zionist movement, expressed his utopian ideas in The Jewish State (1896). In the third chapter of this book, Herzl suggests the establishment of a “Jewish Company” to execute Zionist ideas. According to this plan, The Jewish Company would focus on purchasing lands and would be subjected to English jurisdiction, so its principal center would be in London. 1 The company would erect its own buildings or employ independent architects. 2 The utopian nature of this plan is echoed Herzl’s statement: “[The] working power, which will not be sweated by the Company, but, transported into brighter and happier conditions of life.” 3
In other parts of the third chapter of The Jewish State , Herzl takes inspiration from socialist ideas, as well as concepts developed in Europe after the industrial revolution, to improve living conditions and to apply urban solutions like garden cities and working-class housing. Herzl recommends the building of “workmen’s dwellings” to be erected at the company’s own risk and expense. He rejects European solutions for workers’ housing, which are “miserable rows of shanties which surround factories,” and instead prefers a model similar to the English garden city: “the detached houses in little gardens will be united into attractive groups in each locality.” And, by endorsing young architects “whose ideas have not yet been cramped by routine,” 4 Herzl advocates modernity in architecture. Even though Herzl was considered a secular Jew, he admits that a visible temple must be built because “it is only our ancient faith that has kept us together.” 5 He also suggests the foundation of modern high-tech educational institutions, proposing the use of inexpensive materials and techniques to maintain a disciplined and responsible financial plan.
Herzl concludes that the ideal working day is the seven-hour day. Such an idea represented an advance in the nineteenth century, one probably inspired by socialism. Believing that the seven-hour day is not only humanitarian but also more efficient for production, he perceives this labor issue as a recruiting tool: “The seven-hour day will be the call to summon our people in every part of the world. All must come voluntarily, for ours must indeed be the Promised Land.” 6 At the end of this section, Herzl summarizes: “My remarks on workmen’s dwellings, and on unskilled laborers and their mode of life, are no more Utopian than the rest of my scheme. Everything I have spoken of is already being put into practice, only on an utterly small scale, neither noticed nor understood.” 7
In “Other Classes of Dwelling,” Herzl offers housing solutions for the poorer classes of citizens, proposing the building of a hundred different types of houses that would be repeated if necessary. This was again an application of modern concepts of architecture using modular, inexpensive units that would assist in developing mass housing. 8 Herzl also appeals to wealthy Jews to immigrate and invest in the new venture: “If in the new settlement rich Jews begin to rebuild their mansions which are stared at in Europe with such envious eyes, it will soon become fashionable to live over there in beautiful modern houses.” 9
Zionism is a territory-based revival of the Jewish people that includes aspects such as revival of the Jewish national identity, socioeconomic renewal, and cultural and linguistic rebirth. Herzl’s philosophy is rooted in the Zionist socialist and utopian traditions. There are similarities between Herzl’s utopian vision and Karl Marx’s vision of communism, as they both divided the process of social renewal into two stages: the welfare state and the utopian. The first stage was covered by Herzl in The Jewish State and the second in his novel Old-New Land . In Old-New Land , Herzl defined his utopian vision as “mutualism,” avoiding the term “socialism,” even though mutualism was a stream in the socialist movement of the nineteenth century. The establishment of the kibbutz in Israel was the major manifestation of classical utopianism within Zionism after Herzl, as the kibbutz is the realization of utopian and socialist ideas. 10
While Theodor Herzl was the thinker, or ideologist, of the Zionist movement, Otto Warburg (1859–1938) was the more practical, or pragmatic, member. Warburg’s activities in Palestine and in Europe are linked to the study in this book in two areas: his involvement with the establishment of the Bezalel School of Art in Jerusalem (1906) and his written introduction for the Levy housing plan in new Palestine (Berlin, 1920). 11
Early in his career Warburg was devoted primarily to his studies and research in botany, but toward the end of the nineteenth century he became involved in the Zionist movement. He was especially engaged with the Zionists’ practical implementations, ranging from education to agriculture, irrigation, and Jewish settlements. Warburg was introduced to Zionism by his father-inlaw, Gustav Gabriel Cohen, who met Herzl during the first Zionist Congress in Basel in 1897, a year after Herzl’s publication of The Jewish State . As early as 1881, Cohen had written a book titled The Jewish Problem and the Future , expressing a similar conclusion to Herzl’s vision that anti-Semitism would never vanish and that the only solution would be the establishment of a Jewish state in Ottoman Palestine. 12
Warburg met Herzl for the first time in 1898, when Herzl was writing Old- New Land . Herzl asked Warburg to assist the Zionist movement as a botanist in developing the flora and fauna of Palestine, as well as other natural resources, primarily water. In 1899 Warburg traveled to Palestine, Cyprus, and Anatolia. In Palestine he investigated possibilities for new agricultural products, as he had in Africa, in line with his promise to Herzl. He also investigated the flora and fauna of the land so as to help Herzl in completing his writing of Old-New Land . In Cyprus, Warburg was also interested in possibilities for establishing garden city Jewish settlements in Famagusta. He later proposed to the Zionist executive the foundation of such Jewish settlements in Famagusta, Cyprus, or Iraq, to be financed by non-Jews, but this proposal was rejected. 13
In 1905 Warburg founded the Bezalel School of Art, which opened a year later in Jerusalem, and he appointed artist Boris Schatz its director. Warburg assisted with raising funds for the school, recruiting teachers, and purchasing the building for the school and its museum. In 1908 he participated in the foundation of Chevrat Hachsharat Hayishuv, whose mission was to gather funds for the promotion of economic development projects initiated by the Zionist movement. One of its first aims was to found an agrarian bank that would enable settlers to undertake their first steps in this new venture. Two years later Warburg founded the Migdal Company to locate Jewish settlers in Palestine and to assist them in starting new ventures. After World War I he established a new company, Migdal Bayit Vegan, which created an attractive garden city. This was the realization of Herzl’s concept of the creation of the Company to assist new settlements and projects. 14
Another two activists, Arthur Ruppin and Davis Trietsch, were part of the branch of Practical Zionism in Berlin, and both intersected with architect Alexander Levy’s activities in Berlin before and after the war. Even though Levy in Building and Housing in New Palestine comments that the studies of Ruppin and Trietsch contributed very little to the field of building and housing, he still admired their contribution to the topics of Zionist emigration and settlement.
Ruppin in his memoir reveals that when he wrote his book The Jews of Today: A Social Science Study , 15 his attitude toward Zionism was still ambivalent: “I considered the diplomatic Zionism of Herzl hopeless and unrealistic. I began to draw closer to Zionism only after I went to Berlin in 1904 and came into contact with the circle of ‘practical’ Zionists [Otto Warburg, Davis Trietsch, Martin Buber and others] who were dreaming of Jewish settlements in Palestine.” 16 With the encouragement of Jacob Thon (Otto Warburg’s associate), Ruppin officially joined the Zionist Organization in 1905. In the same year, Ruppin and other members of the organization, including Jacob Thon and Davis Trietsch, drafted and printed a resolution to reject the policy of “charter” (a political permission) and demand “an immediate start of the settlement of Palestine.” 17
Ruppin was sent to Palestine in 1907 by the Zionist Organization’s president David Wolfsohn to survey the state of the Jewish settlements there and to look into potential future development in the fields of agriculture and industry. 18 A year later Wolfsohn and Warburg offered him leadership of the Palestine Bureau, the office of the Zionist Organization in Jaffa, and Ruppin arrived at the port of Jaffa in April of 1908. 19
Ruppin’s study on the economic life of Syria was published in 1918 by the Provisional Zionist Committee in New York. Ruppin recalled that the idea to write this book came in 1915 after the Ottomans blamed him for trying to constitute “a state within a state” and he was forced to withdraw from his position at the Zionist office in Jaffa. Ruppin moved to Jerusalem and lived in a flat in the library building of the American Archaeological Institute and worked intensely on his book; he traveled to the main cities in the region and completed his manuscript within about nine months. After its completion, Jamal Pasha, the Ottoman administrator, ordered Ruppin to leave Palestine immediately, and he returned only after the war four years later. “I had considered my book on Syria and Palestine,” wrote Ruppin, “as an occasional work which I had come to write only through force of circumstances. It was unexpectedly well received.” The book was published in 1917 by the Committee of Colonial Economy in Berlin as a special issue of the journal The Tropical Planter , and in 1918 it was also published in English in New York under the title Syria: An Economic Survey . The book received excellent responses in leading journals, including the review of Reinhard Junge, author of the Europäisierung der Orientalischen Wirtschaft , in the Frankfurter Zeitung on April 28, 1917: “It is the first large, systematic compilation on the economy of Syria (including Palestine).” 20
In the subsection “Life in the Cities,” Ruppin observes that the streets in this region were narrow and crooked, except for some modern quarters with wide streets in such towns as Beirut, Damascus, Jerusalem, and Jaffa, and, in the “European” sections, the streets were equipped with narrow sidewalks. Ruppin also mentions that in recent years the government forced new guidelines to create wider new streets and to widen existing streets by demolishing houses. He describes the planning and design of the houses in the region:
The houses built by natives have a large drawing room in the center with numbers of doors leading into smaller rooms. (In Damascus there are beautiful courts with fountains and trees.) The rooms are furnished with rugs, mats, divans, and cushions; there are no tables, chairs or closets. Bathrooms are practically unknown. The first bathrooms and water closets were introduced by the Jews of Tel-Aviv. 21
The statistical data that Ruppin collected is also relevant to Levy’s claims regarding the high cost of construction. According to this data, the prices for lands in Beirut, for example, were about four times more than those in cities in Palestine, but the cost of building construction in cities like Jerusalem, Jaffa, or Haifa was considerably more expensive than other cities in the region. The cost of constructing a house built of a framework filled in with sun-dried bricks in Damascus, for example, was 8,000 francs, while the cost of constructing a house made of stone in Jerusalem was 20,000 francs. 22
In his report Ruppin lists the most prominent educational institutions in the region, including the Jewish Arts and Crafts School Bezalel, of which Warburg was one of the founders. Bezalel would turn into the most influential factor in the early twentieth century, not only in the field of visual art, but also in the search for architectural style, especially in Tel Aviv in its first two decades.
Davis Trietsch, like Warburg and Ruppin, is considered one of the Zionist pioneer explorers of the Land of Israel. His career in the Zionist Organization involved a number of controversial episodes, including his proposal to settle Jews in Cyprus and El Arish, Egypt; his advocacy and support for Germany during the war; and his postwar idea of Zionist Maximalism. 23 He expressed his extreme approach to Practical Zionism in many publications, including books and magazines. In spite of the fact that Trietsch was intensely engaged in the future of the Jewish settlement in Palestine, including the topic of housing, Levy in his publication mentions him only a few times. In Building and Housing in New Palestine Levy introduces the new fuel agent “suddit” based on Trietsch’s book on immigration and colonization. 24 Trietsch’s ideas are also mentioned by Ernst Herrmann (in the appendix of Levy’s publication), regarding his recommendation to populate smaller cities to reduce overcrowding in the large cities, and his suggestion to establish new settlements on sites where ancient cities were once built.
Trietsch and Ruppin had different interpretations of the meaning and the direction of Practical Zionism, and because of this the relationship between them worsened over the years. Ruppin, in his memoir, recalls that during the Zionist Congress in Vienna in 1913, after introducing a report encouraging the use of a Jewish workforce in Palestine, Davis Trietsch was one opponent who considered his work “insufficient.” 25 The argument between the two accelerated in 1919 over the issue of how many Jewish immigrants should be directed to Palestine after the war. It was also a critical question for Levy’s plan, which focused on mass housing following mass immigration. In March of 1919, Ruppin wrote that in the first decade he believed 20,000 Jews per year would be settled in Palestine, 40,000 per year during the second decade, and 60,000 during the third. “I thought that even these numbers would be very difficult to achieve,” verifies Ruppin, “but now I am being attacked by Trietsch and others who say that this is not nearly enough, that we must immediately begin to settle 100,000 people a year.” 26 Ruppin discusses this issue again in November, 1919, with greater frustration:
I find it depressing that I am constantly growing older and no longer have an unlimited number of years of work at my disposal. I am also finding my stay in Berlin unpleasant because I am obliged to carry on a written and verbal feud with Davis Trietsch and his adherents. Trietsch is dissatisfied with the program of settlement I have described in my book The Colonization of Palestine . Not 30,000 Jews as I have suggested, but 300,000, they claim, should immigrate into Palestine every year. I consider this demand utopian, because economic considerations make it impossible to absorb this number of immigrants. 27
Warburg and Ruppin were technocrats advocating “central role for technically trained experts in the crafting of social policy.” 28 Zionism’s settlement experts before World War I represented the first generation of “Jewish national movement’s technocratic elite” and they acted similar to the “technically oriented elites in European society in the late nineteenth century.” 29
Warburg was a “classical technocrat, apolitical and elitist,” 30 and Ruppin was one of the most successful Zionist settlement experts who “had penetrated the Zionist historical consciousness.” 31 The creation of the Palestinian Office in 1907 by Ruppin was a “synthesis between Herzl’s utopian technophilia and Warburg’s developmental ethos.” 32 Davis Trietsch, on the other hand, was “one of German Zionism’s most inveterate utopians … a student of the Anglo-German Garden City movement and a champion of its application to Palestine.” 33
Like Warburg and Ruppin, architect Alexander Levy was a technocrat in the field of building and housing under the sponsorship of Practical Zionism.
Notes
1. Theodor Herzl, The Jewish State (1896; repr., Minneapolis: Filiquarian Publishing, 2006), 98.
2. Ibid., 101.
3. Ibid.
4. Ibid., 101-102.
5. Ibid., 102.
6. Ibid., 104.
7. Ibid., 105.
8. Ibid., 108.
9. Ibid., 109.
10. Uri Zilbersheid, “The Utopia of Theodor Herzl,” Israel Studies 9, no. 3 (2004): 80-114.
11. The main sources on Warburg are: Otto Warburg, Sefer Warburg (Jerusalem: Masada, 1948), and the Otto Warburg Minerva Center for Agricultural Biotechnology at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem.
12. Warburg, Sefer Warburg , 17-20.
13. Ibid., 21-25.
14. Ibid., 63-67.
15. Arthur Ruppin, Die Juden der gegenwart. Eine sozialwissenschaftliche studie (Berlin: S. Calvary, 1904).
16. Arthur Ruppin and Alex Bein’, Arthur Ruppin: Memoirs, Diaries, Letters (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1971), 75.
17. Ibid., 76.
18. Ibid., 80.
19. Ibid., 86-87.
20. Ibid., 159-61. Syria is a geographical term that at that time covered most parts of the Near East or, in a later phrase, the Middle East.
21. Ibid., 82.
22. Ibid.
23. The theory of Zionist Maximalism advocated Jewish settlements in territories beyond the historical boundaries of the Land of Israel.

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