it’s hard to overstate the influence youth movements have had on my life. They are where I made lasting friendships, formed my Jewish identity, learnt about Jewish history, the conduit through which I became a Zionist. They are my teenage memories, my coming-of-age backdrop, where friends fell in love; as a leader, they were where I learnt how to handle difficult situations.
And, while the picture varies for different movements, they are under threat. Beyond sustained school closures, summer is beckoning. This year there will be no tents in muddy fields, no wide-games at remote boarding schools. No post-GCSE Israel trips; no programmes taking teens in the footsteps of their ancestors across Europe. And, as classrooms have sat empty, there have been no in-person Shabbat activities, no weekly meetings since early March.
Summer is their peak season and, like hotels and beachside cafes, they are facing three winters. I’ve spoken to several movement leaders; in the short-term they have availed themselves of the furlough scheme and other stopgap measures. But as not-for-profits, they don’t have mounds of cash to fall back on. Especially for those not backed by a world movement or synagogue, summer programmes are key to enabling them to stay afloat year-round. “We are struggling in the face of reduced income,” says one, pointing out that the immediate pressure to provide refunds for planned activities, alongside likely reductions in donations, could leave them in financial jeopardy.
There is another, perhaps more existential threat; that those who miss out don’t return next summer. Boohoo, so they don’t get a holiday, but it’s more than that. A positive Jewish experience at 16 will shape your life at least to some degree; influencing, if not deciding, whether you mix in Jewish circles, whether you look for shared Jewish values in a partner, whether maintaining your heritage is important.
This is more of an issue for Israel tours, which tend to attract larger numbers without pre-existing loyalty. Yet many of those who join “because my friends are going” for one heady summer at 16 find themselves involved much later on. When the Second Intifada raged in the early 2000s and parents worried about sending kids to Israel, some movements ran alternative programmes; obviously, that’s not an option now.
Yes, some might go at 17, but how many will shrug and opt for Magaluf? Not every would-be camp or tour participant will return, especially those who may already have been reluctant. “In my heart, I believe a summer without their usual youth movement activities will leave a hole for young people,” says one leader. “But in my head, I know some of the momentum will have been lost. Any relationships which have been built will take a step back and recruitment will be harder.”
It’s a loss too for those preparing to run programmes. I led two camps and eventually tour itself; I would never have built up the confidence for the latter if it weren’t for the former. Youth movements are journeys, every step a milestone. What happens when those steps fall away?
Of course, like teachers, leaders have been innovating with virtual activities for participants already facing frozen social lives, cancelled exams and disrupted university plans. But those who are already logged on aren’t the issue; it’s the ones who aren’t who risk becoming part of a lost generation.
In any case, youth movements are not designed to be virtual. They are about bringing young people together in a creative, social environment; away from the formality of the classroom, often peer-led or run by people just a few years older. They are places where young people can explore the adults they will become, where young Jews can grapple with what being Jewish means to them. As one person observes, “the connections youth movements generate aren’t easily Zoomable”.
At present, gap years are still slated to proceed; FZY tells me that should Israeli borders be closed, participants will be granted a special visa. But while programmes may benefit from school-leavers unwilling to endue socially-distanced freshers weeks and suddenly up for a gap year, cost looms heavily. The last financial crash had a huge impact on participant numbers; this could be similarly damaging.
In their century of history, youth movements have adapted to survive. They will be fighting hard to do so again. Some leaders are optimistic; kids stuck indoors for six months may jump at the chance for old-fashioned face-to-face fun when it comes round again. But not every organisation or business will survive this crisis unscathed; our movements will need help to get to that point.
Says one leader: “If you had your life changed by a youth movement, then please try to support us in whatever way you can — or future generations might not be as lucky.”
