Postville: A Clash of Cultures in Heartland America

First let me ask that reviewers not give away the ending, since the book reads like a mystery.

This book was especially poignant, since I read about the slaughterhouse killfloor the day after reading about the Akedah at a synagogue, and I ate a Rubashkin chicken last week... Bloom, a journalism professor at the University of Iowa, tries to find commonalties with his own secular Jewish life and the lives of the members of a Lubavitcher Hassidic community that moved in 1987 from Brooklyn to Postville, Iowa in order to build and manage a kosher slaughterhouse. They moved to Northeast Iowa - where pigs outnumber people by a large magnitude. Aaron Rubashkin, his peanut-and-Tums-popping son, Shalom, and over thirty rabbis trained to kill livestock and inspect kosher meat, plus friends and relatives moved to the town and revitalized the boarded-up slaughterhouse, AgriProcessors. They hired hundreds of immigrants from Mexico, Central America, Africa, and Eastern Europe. Some were illegal aliens, some got into brawls, but that wasn't the issue. Most residents of Postville, a town of less than 1,500 souls, most of them devout evangelical Lutheran Christians, were happy with the new slaughterhouse and its economic benefits. But as the Lubavitcher community expanded to 150 souls and many homes and buildings, suspicions and complaints by the 'older, more American' residents of Postville grew. This was a town of old ways, where success and vacations are kept quiet, and where Catholics and Lutherans banked at separate banks. Some older residents of Postville didn't understand why the Jews didn't eat in the cafes or purchase non-kosher foods, why they tried to haggle in the stores, why they wouldn't shake hands, why they didn't mow their lawns or ask for help? Why didn't the buy retail? Why didn't they support the local merchants where outward co-dependence was expected? Were the Hasidim oblivious of the unwritten code of tidiness in Postville; did they even care? Did some residents scapegoat the Jews, instead of the local WalMart, for decreasing merchant revenue? In the course of the story, the town attempts to win back control of the slaughterhouse through an annexation referendum, led by City Councilman Leigh Rekow, a farmer and former Peace Corps volunteer. The vote was a barely hidden vote on whether to expel the Jews. This is also a story of Bloom's family's move from California to Iowa, a place with small bagels, low rise buildings, trucks, fishing rods, friendly neighbors, and guns. Bloom is trying to belong to this midwestern place where the barber is confused by Mr. Bloom's dark curly hair (they are used to blondes, or maybe Bloom was a little hypersensitive), or where Jesus might get mentioned in a Cub Scouts meeting, newspaper headline, or spooky tour. But he gets drawn in to make a connection with his fellow Jews. But will Bloom let go? Will he accept the non assimilationist attitudes of the Lubavitchers he meets? Will he avoid eating ham and cheese in the parking lot of the slaughterhouse? Will the Lutheran minister be banished by his parish for preaching inclusiveness? This is a great Autumn read, even if you buy it just for the hilarious comparisons Bloom makes between Jewish kippot and farmer's caps; Jewish davening and Lutheran head nodding; and Jewish "nu's" and Lutheran "don't-cha-think's."

Within a few miles of the Great River Road -- a federally designated "blue highway" along side the Mississippi, and near this Northeastern corner of Iowa, are the remains or the museums of any number of "intentional communities" or Utopian Visions that give color to mainstream American History. Postville is not all that far from Amana Colony, from the Quaker settlements around West Branch (Home of Herbert Hoover), from the site of a charismatic Swedish Utopia at Bishop's Hill, Illinois, or from Nauvoo, one of the important pre-Utah Mormon sites, later taken over by French wine and cheese making communards, and recently under restoration as a Mormon site. For many reasons, I regretted that Bloom did not explore just a little of the rich history of Utopias or intentional communities that have come and gone in this small patch of the mid-west as he examined the ongoing efforts of the Lubavitchers in Postville.

Otherwise this is an amazing story, chuck full of all the tendencies and trends of global economic systems. Glatt Kosher beef and chicken is a terribly narrow nitch overall, but within that nitch, highly profitable. By comparison, Midwest family farming as well as corporate agriculture is mass market -- sensitive to the smallest jolt to Wall Street or the Chicago exchanges. Where fifteen years ago, virtually all slaughter houses in this region were fully unionized with all workers covered by pension and health benefits plus wages about triple what the Lubavitcher venture pays what Bloom describes as an essentially imported and illegal alien workforce -- one wonders how long such a venture can succeed against the interests of any community to acquire common rules, and a sense of shared welfare. It is indeed on this score that the other Utopias failed, changed markedly, or simply moved on. And at some juncture the health and safety inspectors, the Immigration and Naturalization agents, or the state tax inspectors will show up, and what the Lubavitcher communards believe is OK in splendid isolation, will be questioned and debated by others. To find significant support, they will need the Iowa neighbors, and that will require adaptation. One wonders what they will decide.

You could slog through a stack of dry, boring sociology books to understand the push and pull between diverse cultures in the United States -- or you could simply pick up "Postville" and enter a fascinating microcosm of American multiculturalism. In elegant style, Stephen G. Bloom masterfully tells the story of this tiny Iowa farm town and the influx of ultra-Orthodox Jews who simultaneously save it and turn it upside down. The book reads like a good mystery as Bloom, a secular Jew, makes his way through Postville, trying to figure out why the people who opened a kosher slaughterhouse there have so alienated their neighbors. His surprising discoveries and conclusions illuminate what every homogenous population endures when differences intrude. "Postville" speaks eloquently to the issues of assimilation, cultural integrity, exclusivity and what it really means to be a community. On top of that, it's just plain fun to read!

As an expatriate Iowa Jew, I found this book fascinating from start to finish. Reading it, I was as conflicted as the author obviously was. Where should my sympathies lie? With the Jews who were once again facing a sort of persecution? With the townspeople whose culture and values were much more comprehensible to me? As more and more of our communities become multicultural, we will face increasing difficulties as people who understand little of one another are forced to live in close proximity. Is the ideal of the American "melting pot" losing ground as groups jealously guard their cultural identities? This book raises some provocative isssues.

No one would argue that Bloom can represent the entire Jewish community no more than one could argue that Bloom can represent the entire state of Iowa. But Bloom can serve as a voice of an observer, a writer with journalist training who immersed himself in two distinct, important cultures. His insights are important, regardless of where one sides on the ideological and religious spectrum.

I enjoy and recommend this book for three main reasons.

First, Bloom is a talented writer. His descriptions of the Iowa farmland and agriculture are detailed and complete, allowing the reader to get the proper "feel" for the context of this incredible account. Furthermore, Bloom often allows the citizens of Postville to speak for themselves, relying heavily on direct quotations and dialogue. This technique gives the narrative a crisp, effective tone.

Secondly, the subject matter is incredibly rich. As a reader generally unfamiliar with Hasidic Jews and rural Iowans, Bloom introduced me to new cultures. As with his attention to descriptive detail of the context, Bloom provides a remarkably detailed portrait of both groups. One of his most common techniques is the story. Personal experiences with both the Hasidic Jews and the other Postville citizens create characterizations that are full and dynamic.

Finally, though other reviewers have criticized Bloom for a lack of objectivity, I believed Bloom did a commendable job of presenting both sides throughout much of the book. Clearly, his bias emerges in the latter part. However, what many critics fail to point out is that Bloom is very clear of his evolving personal stance. Thus, the book serves as both an analysis of cultures and an autobiography of personal spirituality. A reader need not agree with Bloom's ultimate conclusions to learn from the book. Indeed, simply witnessing a spiritual transformation and development of the writer is a powerful experience for readers. In short, the bias that concerns many critics is not a hidden, subtle attempt to sway reader's opinions--it is a clearly stated conclusion of the author as the book progresses.

The ramifications of the Postville experiences are far-reaching. This is an important study and one that deserves our attention and consideration. However, don't let the depth of the subject override the fact that this is a page-turner of a book with a storyline that will grab you from the very beginning.