On land crumbled by sinkholes, Dead Sea locals try to shore up their livelihoods

MELANIE LIDMAN

The ground under their feet precarious and the geopolitics of the water economy difficult, residents of the region struggle to see the glass half full

When Yariv Kita, the business director of Kibbutz Ein Gedi, drives out of his kibbutz, he can’t escape reminders of the destruction sinkholes have wreaked on his home.

Directly across from the entrance to the kibbutz is a dead date orchard, the palm trees doubled over like sagging rag dolls. Behind that are the remains of the kibbutz’s public beach — an array of crumbling tourist facilities, including a campground, kiosk, and a restaurant.

“The sinkholes are threatening our very existence,” said Kita.

The area, including the remains of what was once Route 90, is now a closed no-go zone, the landscape pockmarked with holes caused by the rapidly dropping water level of the nearby Dead Sea.

Sinkholes — sudden, dangerous pits that form when rock beneath the surface is dissolved by groundwater — first began to appear around the Dead Sea in the late 1980s, caused by the rapid decline of that body of water. Today the water level is dropping more than a meter (3 feet) per year.

The sinkholes come in all shapes and sizes, some more than 50 meters (160 feet) across and 30 meters (100 feet) deep, others less than a meter. In 1990 there were a little over 100 sinkholes, according to the Geological Survey of Israel. Today, there are more than 6,000, with new ones showing up daily.

Kibbutz Ein Gedi is just one case among a multitude of economic challenges the sinkholes are inflicting on residents living near the Dead Sea. Hundreds of residents are precariously trying to make a living in an area whose geographic features are literally changing beneath their feet. Solutions are possible, local leaders claim, though expensive. But inaction will plunge the area deeper into isolation and poverty, they say.

“We lost 300 dunams (75 acres), it’s just totally gone,” said Kita. “We’ve lost tens of millions of shekels. We’re still assessing the financial impact.”

Beyond the physical loss stemming from the sinkholes, Kita said, the kibbutz is also beginning to lose something less tangible: hope.

“What’s in danger is really the issue of continuing the settlement of the Dead Sea region,” Kita said. “No one has left the kibbutz — we love this place — but it’s a big worry.”

Like many rural areas, Ein Gedi struggles with demographic issues of attracting young people to the region and encouraging the new generation to stay local rather than moving to the center.

“We’re a small, isolated spot, and there’s no reason to come live here,” said Kita. “Right now we have only three babies in the [kibbutz’s communal] children’s home. We need to renew ourselves. Without new life, we won’t survive.”

Abandoned buildings at the Kibbutz Ein Gedi public beach on January 3, 2017. (Luke Tress/Times of Israel)

“We’re asking for support and help,” Kita added. “This is too big for us to do on our own. The state needs to help us. We’re not responsible for this problem, we have no control over it, and we need to make a living here.”

It’s a challenge for any rural kibbutz to attract new members. But with Ein Gedi’s businesses literally getting swallowed by sinkholes, the situation is even bleaker. The kibbutz itself is not in the sinkhole danger zone, since it is situated farther from the shoreline. But as the sinkholes expand, employment shrinks.

Floating on a tax-free sea

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