State of the Nation

How youth groups are meeting the challenge of tough times

Jennifer Lipman — Thu, 23 Aug 2012 11:25:01 +0100

The photos have been taken, the memories made. The bags are now strewn across the floor. Voices have been lost, friendships formed. There have been tears and thrills, smiles and sing-songs, even a smidgen of Jewish education. The holidays are coming to an end for another year, and with them the summer camps and tours that have become a staple of the Anglo-Jewish calendar.

For decades, communal life for Britain’s Jewish youngsters has been based around groups run for and by them, from East End social clubs such as Brady Maccabi to charitable organisations like the Jewish Youth Voluntary Service, and, perhaps most of all, Zionist youth movements — from the socialist Habonim Dror to the religious Bnei Akiva, and everything in between.

But a century after they began, Jewish youth movements are having to navigate a challenging future. Movements that once sustained weekly chapter meetings now focus on holiday camps and one-off events. A few groups, like Zionist movement Hanoar, have seen membership fall, but most are steady or even growing. Yet whereas once one movement’s decline in membership was inevitably another’s gain, today a key concern is what the expansion of Jewish education means for youth movements.

It is “a big challenge”, admits FZY’s national director, Joshua Marks. Parents believe the classroom to be an adequate substitute for youth movement membership. “Seeing the [low] level of passion and engagement of people from Jewish schools on our programmes, this is not always the case,” says Marks. “The challenge is to make the case to parents that youth movements are still essential to forming a strong Jewish identity.”

Historically, youth groups were where people found Jewish friends and partners. But according to Maccabi’s Daniel Morris: “Youth clubs have generally become a thing of the past as parents feel their children’s Jewish content is being fulfilled via their Jewish school life”.

The worry is that this will affect participation in the post-GCSEs Israel tours — still a rite of passage for many teenagers. “Jewish schools are now taking their pupils to Israel and giving them all of their Jewish or Zionist identity and education. How can we compete?” asks Hanoar’s Ed Nyman.

However, Joshua Rowe, chairman of the governors at King David School, in Manchester, says Jewish schools have strengthened youth movements, and argues that his school has significant involvement with them.

“Pupils have a stronger sense of identity,” he says. “They are more likely to be a part of the Jewish scene. The ideal is that schools and youth movements work in close harmony, imbuing pupils with knowledge and with a sense of pride and belonging. It works extremely well. The combination of home, school and youth movement — provided they all give the same message — is formidable.”

But while parents might have been happy to fund both in previous years, “the cost of all youth movement programmes are rising, and in this current financial climate, parents tend to see youth movements as a luxury,” says Cassie Matus, Habonim’s national director.

Participation in gap-year schemes was hit badly last year, thanks to the double blow of the recession and the university fees system. All the movements have been working to cut costs, slicing days off tours or scrapping trips. In summer 2011, a quarter of tour participants received some financial support from the UJIA. “We never wish to turn away anyone because of monetary constraints, and so another ongoing challenge is fundraising for our bursary fund,” says Yoav Guttman of the Masorti group, Noam.

But the movements will only be sustainable if the wider community continues to support them. “The main challenge is a decline in funding from bigger organisations,” says LJY-Netzer worker Sam Grant. “The problem is convincing people in the community that they should be investing resources into youth.”

The early days of youth movements coincided with the struggle for Israel and offered a safe space at a time when discrimination was prevalent and Jews were often excluded from non-Jewish social structures. The modern British community does not feel the same need. Today’s teenagers have more on offer — communally, with bodies such as Tribe, Aish or the Jewish Learning Exchange — but also in the wider world. “Social media means young people no longer have to go to chapter meetings to see their friends. Why sit in a shul hall when you can see your friends on Skype?” says Hannah Minsky, national director of the B’nai B’rith Youth Organisation (BBYO).

To that end, most movements boast iPhone apps and active social media profiles. For example, all of Bnei Akiva’s educational resources can be accessed through its app, while its weekly educational syllabus is available on YouTube. “We are in a more competitive market than ever before, with many more demands on the time of our members and more organisations working with youth,” said Alex Cohen, the group’s national director. “Staying on top of the latest trends is sure to play an even larger part over the coming years.”

Youth movements are led by the very people they want to engage, so are well placed to remake themselves and change structure where necessary. BBYO has introduced a separate sixth-form programme on camps, aware this is more attractive to older members, while RSY-Netzer recently piloted a day camp for members age five to 11. FZY opened its doors to younger members last year and now offers participants nine options for tour, including one focused on archeological digging and one built around social action. “Coming up with new and stimulating projects is key,” says Josh Nyman.

Tikkun Olam — the idea of “repairing the world” — has become a priority, with movements running events for Mitzvah Day, or schemes like RSY-Netzer’s Respect campaign, a social media drive to get youths talking about personal development. LJY-Netzer has shifted focus from summer camps to a scheme providing members with internships in Jewish and non-Jewish charities in Britain and in Israel.

There is continued debate over how much a draw the groups’ ideologies is. Joshua Marks says, FZY and its rivals remain “unashamedly ideological”, but adds: “This ideology is combined with the realisation that we need to attract young people in order to engage them”.

Movements maintain that being aligned with specific branches of Judaism is a strong pull to members from the outset, while those without a specifically religious or denominational offer believe that their principles become more important as members grow up. As Cassie Matus points out, “herd mentality” brings people in, but ideology makes them stay.

All the movements are adamant that they will not sacrifice ideology for popularity. And many members of the Zionist groups are inspired to make aliyah. Those who remain in Britain are well placed to play an important role in the community and invest in its survival, first on campus and later on charity committees, synagogue bodies and in lay leadership positions.

A recent survey conducted by FZY showed that two-thirds of its former year-course participants went on to hold community leadership positions, while 96 per cent had married Jewish partners. Habonim counts the heads of several Jewish charities in the UK as alumni.

Financial pressures and competition mean these are not easy times, but, aside from the odd casualty, like AJ6 or JYSG, youth movements are not likely to fade off the communal map any time soon. Last summer 1,600 British and Irish teenagers joined Israel tours — hardly a sign of a decline. Yet this should not be taken for granted. “Youth provision is not an extra that we should only invest in when financial times are good,” says Sam Grant. “It is a necessity for a thriving community.”

Why are we so awful at putting ourselves on the big screen?

Simon Round — Thu, 07 Jun 2012 10:35:47 +0100

If you feel like watching a feature film by a British Jewish film-maker there is plenty of choice — you could watch one of the many movies made by Mike Leigh, John Schlesinger, Michael Winner or several other directors of note. But should you wish to see films featuring British Jewish characters or with a Jewish theme, there is considerably less choice. And with a couple of honourable exceptions, those few movies which have been released in recent years have been excoriated by the critics.

This is a view held by many in the Jewish community, but is it an erroneous perception? Not according to Judy Ironside, the founder and executive director of UK Jewish Film. Her team is constantly on the lookout for British films with a Jewish theme to showcase at the annual festival.

But pickings, she says, are very thin. “We are sent nearly 400 films every year for consideration from all around the world. Probably about two per cent of those are from the UK. We struggle to find films that fit the festival’s remit. It’s much easier to find films about Jews in the US. And to give a European example, the French are much stronger. They are making art-house films with Jewish themes, there are Jewish romcoms and there are characters in lots of French films who just happen to be Jewish. For some reason, we are reluctant to make films portraying our own people.”

And when films are made, particularly when they are comedies, the critics have noticed a striking disconnect between the depiction of Jews on-screen and the experience of Jews living in the UK. The JC’s film reviewer, Jonathan Foreman, can rarely recall seeing a well-made British-Jewish film. And he reserves special scorn for David Baddiel’s 2010 effort, The Infidel, in which Omid Djalili plays a Muslim who discovers that he was born Jewish. “It was hideous. If British Jewish films are like that, then thank goodness there aren’t more of them made. Making Jewish films seems to bring out the very worst in film-makers. Even people who are very good at other things, when they do something Jewish, they make your skin crawl, particularly in the field of comedy. They tend to be self-caricaturing. It’s certainly different in America and in Europe.”

So why do Jews cringe when they see themselves depicted on the big screen at their local multiplex? One of the key factors, according to Nathan Abrams, senior lecturer in film studies at Bangor University and author of The New Jew in Film: exploring Jewishness and Judaism in Contemporary Cinema, is accent.

“This is one of the biggest problems. It took me a long time to work this out but it doesn’t matter if someone was born in 1900 or 2000, if they are Jewish they all sound the same in movies.

Because Jews are physically hard to distinguish from the rest of the white population, directors feel they need to code them. So they emphasise the Jewishness of their characters and in so doing end up with cliché.”
This stereotype of a north London Jew will be familiar to the British Jewish film-goer. Leon the Pig Farmer, Suzy Gold and The Infidel all feature the north London Jewish accent, which seems to exist only on-screen, along with an imagined vernacular (a catering van in Leon The Pig Farmer carries the slogan “To you, we deliver”).

At the root of this stereotype, says Dr Abrams, is a community which is uncomfortable with letting it all hang out. He says: “The timidity of the British Jewish film industry is reflective of British Jews in general. They have always been advised to keep their heads down. There is a twofold factor here. In order to keep your heads down you don’t want to have too many Jews on-screen.

“So when you do have them you need to be really obvious and clichéd about it. There is also a commercial consideration. Because the community is so small, we can’t sustain a purely Jewish product. Therefore, film executives tone down the Jewishness. You get this Catch 22 situation in that there are very few Jewish characters in movies, so when you have them they need to be signposted – and you end up with characters sounding like Maureen Lipman in the BT adverts”.

The same has happened on television, with an interesting variation. In 2011, Channel 4’s Friday Night Dinner received praise from the critics. As its name implies, this was a comedy set in a Jewish household on Shabbat. However, due to a lack of confidence on the part of either the producers, those who commissioned the show or perhaps both, nearly all the Jewish content was removed — to the point that there was discussion on a Channel 4 forum as to whether the programme even depicted Jews.

Dr Abrams comments: “They tried to play it both ways by making it Jewish enough that people who knew about Friday night would get it but then they removed any other signifiers so that it wouldn’t put off the general public, so it was a classic English fudge”.”

This is in marked contrast to Larry David’s cult US show Curb Your Enthusiasm, which liberally throws in Jewish references, while retaining its mainstream audience.

There are of course, exceptions. Simon Amstell’s comedy, Grandma’s House, which returned for a second series last month, is edgier and more authentic than most. And in the 1970s, Jack Rosenthal wrote plays such as The Barmitzvah Boy and The Evacuees which addressed both universal and Jewish themes and were loved by Jews and non-Jews alike.

In other media, such as books and theatre there is more, and some would say better, material. Mr Foreman thinks it significant that Mike Leigh chose to make a Jewish play, Two Thousand Years, rather than a Jewish movie.

“I can’t think of a specifically Jewish character in a Mike Leigh film, but he chose to write this play. Perhaps the answer lies in the fact that the risk of taking on a Jewish subject is less in the theatre because plays don’t cost as much to put on as films do.”

So what is the problem? Mr Foreman thinks that it lies within ourselves. “There are a huge number of Jews in the media, and they have no shortage of self-confidence. But they don’t want to do things about being Jewish because it’s not seen as particularly cool. They may associate being Jewish with being middle-class so they want to do stuff about inner city youth instead. If you look at the subsidised film sector in particular, there’s a huge amount about tower blocks and unemployment. Our community is going to seem suburban and boring in comparison. Either film-makers don’t see their identity as that important or maybe it’s that very British thing that they are slightly uncomfortable about it.”

Mr Foreman feels that representation of Jews is better in historical drama but even there stereotypes can creep in. “In Chariots of Fire, the Jewish character, Harold Abrahams, was stiff-necked, a bit chippy and hypersensitive to antisemitism.

“Meanwhile in An Education, you had the first negative depiction of a Jew in a number of years. It used to be the case that you couldn’t do that, but here was a director who clearly had no problem with a classic antisemitic stereotype.”

Dr Abrams believes we will not start making interesting material until we shake off institutional inertia. “British Jewry, or at least the metropolitan elite, needs to take a good look at itself and do something to support the cultural creativity of the younger generation. Generally, in this country, as soon as someone does something that is both Jewish and interesting they go off to Hollywood or move into the non-Jewish world where there’s more of an outlet.”

Mr Foreman thinks that our lack of objectivity about ourselves might hold us back. “It might be that only an American or a European could make a good film about Jewish life in Britain. Most British Jews would both lack a perspective and be too conflicted about it.”

Charity funding is becoming an uphill struggle

Simon Rocker — Thu, 03 May 2012 13:57:42 +0100

Jewish charity leaders will be keeping a close eye on Chancellor George Osborne. Even before a growing political backlash forced the government to reconsider its controversial proposal to cut tax relief for big donors, the Jewish Leadership Council had sounded the alarm.

Under the Chancellor's original budget proposal, someone planning to make a large gift for a capital project or to set up their own charitable foundation might well find less to put in the pot. Given that charities are a vital link in the Tories' "Big Society" - their call for social responsibility - the idea of cutting tax relief for donations "does seem an own goal," said Jewish Care chief executive Simon Morris. Only last week Community Security Trust chairman Gerald Ronson called the budget measure "a giant step in the wrong direction".

Even if it were only to make a small dent in the income of Jewish charities, it would hardly come at a worse time.

"It's getting harder and harder to fundraise," said Andrew Alexander, chief executive of One Family UK, set up 10 years ago to help terrorist victims in Israel in the wake of the second intifada and which raises around £700,000 a year. "We're having to rely a lot more on trusts and foundations than the private donor. The average donation has dropped quite considerably. Someone who would happily give £100 before is now giving £50. You have to work almost twice as hard."

Suzanne Neville, chief executive of Jewish Care Scotland, which has an annual turnover of £650,000, said: "This is going to be a very tough year. We're working very hard to maintain our services but we are having to draw on our reserves to do that."

At the same time, she added: "We are coming across more people in financial need because their benefits have been cut or they have lost their job, whom we are going to have to support. Financial problems are also causing increased anxiety, depression and mental health problems. The economy is changing the nature of what we are being asked to do."

Social service organisations which depend heavily on local authority grants face a particular challenge. "Public funding is under pressure and in real terms has declined significantly over the last five years," said Simon Morris. "Local authority income has remained flat with no allowance for inflation – [a cut of] £500,000 in two years. It doesn't look as though it is going to get any better."

On the face of it, Jewish Care has done pretty well in recent years; its voluntary income – from donations and legacies but excluding fees and council grants – rose from nearly £19 million in 2008 to over £33 million last year.

But its bumper year was due to an exceptional windfall gift. Donations which go towards revenue costs have remained static for two years and Mr Morris is concerned about a drop in legacies, to £3.3m this year, compared to nearly £7m the previous year.

Elsewhere, Israel charities appear to be finding the going harder – although their popularity can be affected by the situation in Israel. "All you would need is a third intifada to break out and there would be no problem - but of course we don't want that," said one fundraiser.

The UJIA's charitable income in 2010 was just over £13.5 million – nearly £3 million down from 2007; JNF UK's slid from over £7 million in 2009 to £5 million the following year; Magen David Adom, which had been comfortably raising over £4million annually for several years, dropped to £3 million in 2010.

Charities are also having to contend with a crowded – some would say overcrowded – marketplace. "There are more charities, more and more campaigns," said Lionel Salama, co-founder of creative agency Hype, which has done marketing and advertising for many Jewish organisations. "It makes the process of fundraising more competitive; causes have to make their case much better."

Although British Jewry may have numerically shrunk, the Charity Commission reported in 2007 that the number of Jewish charities on its books - more than 2,300 - had increased by more than a third over the previous five years. Their collective income, including fees and government grants as well as charitable gifts, amounted then to more than £700 million a year. That breaks down to nine Jewish charities per 100 British Jews - more than 30 times the proportion of charities per head in the general population.

Faced with a harsher climate, charities are having to prove more resourceful in their quest for cash. "We're exploring different ways of expanding our fundraising capacity - for example people sponsoring different aspects of what we do," said Suzanne Neville. "Last year we had a trek to Latvia and Lithuania which raised a lot more than we anticipated."

In Brighton, Ralli Hall, one of the country's few independent Jewish community centres, is keeping afloat largely through hiring its premises out. "Donations dried up a long time ago," said its chairman of 23 years, Roger Abrahams,

"We have just become more commercial about how we do things. We're doing ok – we are building a third kitchen, which will be vegetarian." Despite the hall remaining a focal point of Brighton Jewish life, membership subscriptions contribute only a few thousand pounds towards its £150,000 annual budget. "It is only £50 a couple and there's no charge for children under 18 or in full-time education," Mr Abrahams said. "But there are only 200 to 300 paying members out of a community of 5,000."

A glance at the Jewish names in the Sunday Times Rich List suggests there is still considerable money to be tapped. Dame Vivien Duffield's £25 million pledge to the new Jewish Community Centre, due to open in London next year, shows that the old philanthropic spirit is still very much alive in some quarters.

But perhaps we have been for too long over-reliant on too small a pool of donors. A survey by the Institute for Jewish Policy Research (JPR) in the mid-90s indicated that 80 per cent of Jewish donations came from just nine per cent of the population.

The donors of the future, however, may not be so willing to open their chequebooks without a second thought. Mick Davis, chairman of UJIA and the JLC, observed: "There is no doubt in my mind that the younger generation doesn't subscribe to the idea of the Jewish tax. They look at philanthropy in terms of 'do I understand the cause, do I want to support the cause, is it going to deliver the value that I think it should?' That's a much more difficult and complex sell.

"The way we go and raise our money, and the way we engage with new generations, needs to recognise that you can't expect they are simply going to write out a cheque. You've got to have a compelling proposition which they buy into."

Changes in working life also mean that even those ready to donate may not be as inclined to get stuck into charity work as previous generation. "I think 25 years ago more donors were involved in the kind of businesses which allowed them time to sit on committees," said Lionel Salama. "These days a lot of donors don't have the time or perhaps the patience for committees."

The chairman of Jewish Care, Steven Lewis, recently criticised his own generation of 40-somethings for not pulling their weight in terms of Jewish charity-giving. But it could be that some of the newer donors are opting for niche causes that have a particular appeal to them, rather than the usual big beasts in the Jewish charity field.

Rabbi Shoshana Boyd-Gelfand, director of JHub, which supports new charities, says that the internet makes it easier for would-be donors to give online rather than respond to someone else's appeals. "For the generation that has the iPhone, you have i-philanthropy," she said.

Or the newly affluent may choose to spend their charity cash outside the Jewish community. "As chairman of the UJIA, there's not much more I can do other than thank somebody," said Mick Davis. "But you give to a large institution in the UK, you might get a CBE."

Lionel Salama identifies another issue. "I think Israel's image in the UK has had, and does have, a big impact on many people's involvement in Jewish life. If you're a young person at university or work and Israel seems to be painted in a bad way, you may tend not to want to identify so publicly as part of the Jewish community, and you may retreat into the woodwork.

"And that's bad news because if you are not involved in the community, charities can't pitch to you to support their particular institution."

If younger donors seem to be more elusive than charities would like, there is concern over another critical source of income – legacies. Almost 30 Jewish charities have signed up to a cross-communal campaign, due to launch later this year, to persuade more of us to leave a bequest to a Jewish cause.

Justine Harris, the former strategic communications director of Jewish Care, who is one of the group behind the campaign, said: "According to JPR statistics, only one in four of us is leaving a legacy to a Jewish charity in their will."

A legacy does not have to be tens of thousands of pounds, she said. Every £100 or £1,000 helps. "It should be the natural thing to do if you have supported a cause all your life to wish that good work should continue".

Even if people are retaining more of their money to look after themselves in old age, she said, "very few people die without assets. Leaving a gift in your will should become the norm."

Another response is for charities to try to make their income go further by cutting overheads.

A few years ago the JLC introduced a scheme for different Jewish charities to buy services such as printing, cleaning or telephony in bulk rather than individually. It says that the resulting savings now amount to £700,000.

But Simon Morris believes there is still room for charities to reduce costs by sharing "back-office" functions. "Merger is one thing but there are other ways of working together which need to be explored. It makes sense for some coming-together of us, Nightingale, Norwood, Chai. Is there a way for the Friends of Israel organisations, like the Technion, Haifa University and the Hebrew University, to work more closely?"

But while charities try to safeguard their future, Lionel Salama believes the crying need is for a wider community plan. "Now seems a good time to think collectively about how we are going to support a community 10,20 years down the line. Do we need all these institutions – and how are we going to pay for them?

"I am not aware of a blueprint or vision for the next 20 years as to how we are going to fund all these causes, and that's quite a frightening prospect."

"How does this community remain vital, dynamic?" said Mick Davis. "Is it the number of kids educated at schools? Is it the number of rabbanim we train? Is it the quality of our health care? That's a very important key to how we think about the allocation of resources in our community."

One thing seems clear: the charity bill is likely to get bigger. Simon Morris says that if we want to maintain the current Jewish infrastructure – education, defence, Israel support, social care etc – "the community is going to need to become more supportive. I can only see the state reducing its funding. What we have done is fantastic, but if we want to keep it up at the same levels, the community is going to have to respond."

We're still looking for love - and we are always optimistic

Jessica Elgot — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 12:07:55 +0100

After the confetti settles, the ink on the ketubah has dried and the 19-piece klezmer band has packed up its fiddles, pressures of modern life are driving even the happiest Jewish couples apart, rabbis and lawyers have warned.

But when things go wrong, even the most secular Jewish couples are seeking spiritual guidance, both before and during their marriages, and still have faith that their problems can be solved by a rabbi, according to Rabbi Aaron Goldstein.

The Northwood and Pinner Liberal rabbi said: "It's very surprising how many couples come to me when they are having relationship difficulties. They are not coming for halachic knowledge or direction. They want guidance from someone where they know it is confidential. Rabbis nurture relationships, we are non-judgmental."

The United Synagogue authorised 385 marriages in 2011, lower than previous years, and 118 religious divorces (gittin), while the Reform Beth Din registered 14 gittin. Vanessa Lloyd-Platt, a high-profile Jewish divorce lawyer, said that the numbers of Jewish couples divorcing were skyrocketing.

"I can only describe it as mayhem out there," she said. "At the 40-plus end of the scale, it's an epidemic. There is huge dissatisfaction among women of that age. Quite a high proportion of Jewish clients are from the more religious end of the spectrum - but not the strictly Orthodox. It's the nouveau riche, traditional Jews, whose divorces are on the increase."

Jo Barnett, a dating coach with Connect, part of the Jewish Marriage Council, believes "pre-marriage coaching is absolutely vital. I know marriages which have been saved from going ahead by putting the couple in a room and bringing up issues like money and religious observance - and finding out that their values don't match at all. It's best to walk away then, not after the expensive wedding."

Alyth Synagogue's Rabbi Mark Goldsmith is a great champion of courses for engaged couples. "It enables couples to meet each other, we look at marriage in Jewish texts , the marriage service and choices to be made. Couples are very assertive about re-writing the ketubah, and they often want to explain their wedding to non-Jewish friends."

But Rabbi Goldstein believes many couples find the formal courses "patronising", especially those who have lived together for a number of years. "You don't need a formal course. People I know have found it demeaning, when they have been on either church courses, or an Orthodox Jewish course. A rabbi should be able to provide a personal service. You can pick up a feel of ease in the relationship. They know each other; they don't need to be preached to."

Two very definitive trends in divorcing couples have emerged, according to Rabbi Goldstein. "Most of those we see are people whose kids have flown the nest, and whose relationships haven't been good for a number of years. We also see younger couples with youngish children, where they have had pressures of both partners having jobs, juggling kids and financial issues."

The recession has played a key part in driving Jewish couples apart, said Ms Lloyd-Platt. "In north-west London, there's a lot of 'keeping up with the Cohens', and resentment when lifestyles have to be reined in. The level of fighting has been very acrimonious indeed."

But she said Jewish couples "don't tend to get pre-nuptial agreements. They don't like the notion of it, while in the wider community, there has been a huge increase."

The JMC's clinical director Deborah Weinstein said that more couples were seeking professional help, before and after marriage, to avoid divorce. "We have seen an increase in numbers over the past month or so. While our clients come from both the religious and non-religious communities, we are seeing a recent increase in Charedi families using our services here."

Cheadle-based relationship counsellor and psychosexual therapist, Edna Miller, has been counselling Manchester couples for 20 years, but in the past six years has started seeing a substantial number of strictly Orthodox couples from Broughton Park, on the other side of the city. "For the more Orthodox couples, some do want to come to a Jewish counsellor, but not one in their own community. They don't have to explain everything to me, but I am outside that particular world."

The strictly Orthodox community have very specific issues that might lead to divorce, said Mrs Miller. "Religious observance can be an issue. I have had a few cases where a wife or husband wants to be less religious than the other, they want to be freer to wear different clothes, for example, but are worried what people might think of them, and what their husband or wife would think.

"Sex can also be a major issue in the strictly Orthodox world where there is no sex education, and so many restrictions. But the solution for religious couples is as universal as for secular couples – communication. If you don't talk to each other about how you are feeling, about any issue, it won't get better."

But the relationships are less likely to end in divorce than they were in better economic times, Mrs Miller said. "They don't have the money for a divorce. It used to be easier, and now they are forced to make a go of it."

When couples do divorce, it is important that they do not let the trauma of the split cloud their judgment, especially it comes to negotiating a get, advises solicitor Deanna Levine, author of an e-book, Getting Your Get.

She said solicitors sometimes did not face up to their responsibility to make sure their Jewish clients had a get arranged as part of their civil divorce.

"The solicitors say it is not their concern. That is simply not the case. While the numbers are smaller than they used to be, for each individual who has the problem, it's massive."

Danielle Benson, who divorced her husband a year ago, said the idea of obtaining a get did not enter her head until the civil divorce was finalised.

"We did a quick divorce on the internet. It was all done and dusted before I realised I didn't have my get. He was difficult, he didn't see the point and it was me who had to pay for it. It dragged on for a year and a half; it was an extremely emotional time. He did not turn up to the first meeting with the dayan. I had to go and pick him up from his house for the second meeting; I didn't trust him to come. So we went together."

But Ms Benson said she found the Beth Din to be a helpful, welcoming place when she did arrive at the religious court, having expected it to be very intimidating. She now works as a female volunteer, helping women going into the court. "It is intimidating going into the room full of men – but women are offered a volunteer to accompany them. It's a very emotional experience, because they read out those familiar Hebrew lines, the names of your parents and grandparents, and the atmosphere is intense. It is archaic, but at the end the man leaves and the dayan talks to you, which is really comforting, it is nowhere near as horrific as people make it out to be. I think it's because no-one talks about what goes on behind those doors, but actually, it's absolutely fine."

David Frei, legal services director at the London Beth Din, said there were "urban myths" about how traumatic a get ceremony has to be. "No-one ever says it was an awful experience coming to the Beth Din. Divorce can be traumatic for many, and we try to give as much support as possible.

"The less religious you are, you might go for years and years, [without a get] which can bring halachic problems. It might be 20 years later, when a person wants to remarry. A get can be done in those circumstances, but it might be difficult even to track down the previous spouse. Without a get you should not have a relationship with anyone else, it counts as adultery, and you cannot get married again [in an Orthodox synagogue]".

Steps are taken to try to guard against spouses refusing a get. "A pre-nuptial agreement was put together by the Office of the Chief Rabbi around 10 years ago. But the bottom line is you cannot force someone to give a get, so it does not necessarily work. There are sanctions in the US by-laws to prevent people having honours at synagogue, or even suspending membership if they refuse a get. Unfortunately, although these by-laws are wonderful, and show how strongly we feel on the issue, [often] people refusing to give a get with no good reason are the sort of people who don't really care about coming to shul."

A Reform Beth Din will issue a get to either party, if they have a civil divorce, said Rabbi Goldsmith. "A Reform get can be issued by a man or a woman; no-one can be trapped in a Reform marriage. We deem them both to have given their consent [to a religious divorce] if they are civilly divorced."

Orthodox agunot [chained women] do occasionally approach a Progressive Beth Din for a get and a second marriage.

"If you wish to be married in a Reform synagogue and you are refused an Orthodox get, we will use the Reform procedure to ensure you have a get, and we will perform the wedding. We don't necessarily recommend it, but we will not allow a man to keep a woman trapped."

But Rabbi Goldstein said Liberal Judaism had dispensed with the idea of a get altogether. "It is demeaning to women. Anyone who has had a civil divorce can get married in our synagogues. We have people who come and get married in our synagogue who have been denied a get by their Orthodox partners. We even have Cohanim who have second marriages here. We see it as our role to facilitate those marriages. Judaism should not be a block to relationships."

The majority of couples Rabbi Goldsmith comes across now, have met through internet dating. "Actually people usually already know each other through family or friends. They might have done youth movement activities together. It's quite a phenomenon."

But for those who aren't keen on the idea of JDate, meeting a Jewish partner, especially for a divorcé or divorcée, has become a minefield in recent years, says Connect's Jo Barnett, who matches Jewish couples through her dating agency. The agency has around 200 members, mostly from London but also from Leeds and Manchester.

"Some people just don't want to chat to strangers online. They want the reassurance we've met the person they are going to date. Around 20 per cent of our members have been married before. They are usually aged 30 to 45 - it's impossible to match people older, especially women. We have so few men with whom to match them. And single men are generally not interested in women with children.

"Years ago people would meet at a dance, connect and get married. Now they have much higher expectations, they are taught they should not settle, all girls should be gorgeous, all guys should be rich. People have forgotten we are human."

Striving to rediscover hunger will make successful start-ups

Candice Krieger — Thu, 15 Mar 2012 11:55:30 +0000

Think Jews in business and names such as Sir John Ritblat (British Land), Lord Kalms (Dixons) and Lord Sugar (Amstrad) might well spring to mind. Go back a bit further and there was Tesco's Sir Jack Cohen (1930s), Michael Marks, co-founder of Marks & Spencer (late 1880s), and Nathan Rothschild (N M Rothschild and Sons) in the early 1800s. Anglo-Jewry has a history of producing some of the best of global industry and creating some of the world's most iconic business empires, be it in banking, property or retail.

Fast forward to modern times and Jewish businessmen remain some of the most accomplished in their fields: Nick Leslau (Prestbury), Michael Sherwood (Goldman Sachs) and David Reiss (Reiss), but perhaps not to the same level or quantity as their predecessors.

How so? Not because they are not capable, but because the business landscape has changed. "A generation ago it was very fashionable for Jews not to become entrepreneurs but to become professionals," says Alex Brummer, city editor of the Daily Mail.

There is no shortage of leading Jewish professionals: Jeremy Newman (former CEO of BDO), Jonathan Morris (partner at BLP) and Neville Kahn (global leader of Deloitte's reorganisation services).

The concern today is that there is a lost generation of entrepreneurs. While there are some exciting 40-somethings who have made the big-time: Errol Damelin (Wonga), Brent Hoberman (lastminute.com and mydeco.com) and Tim Steiner (Ocado), the UK - Jewish or not - is no Silicon Valley.

Multimillionaire internet entrepreneur Marc Worth, 50, is the chief executive of Stylus Media Group and chairman of UK Israel Business. He is the co-founder of Worth Global Style Network (WGSN), the online fashion information service, which he sold to Emap for £142 million.

He says: "Back in my day, going to university was an option, not an imperative. It was certainly not frowned upon if you went into business rather than continuing education. I think the world is a very different place today."

Robert Ohrenstein, KPMG partner and head of private equity transaction services for KPMG Europe, agrees. "Something has changed. I don't know if it's because our grandparents' generation came to the UK - or were already here - in a pretty destitute state, and were forced to make a go of things. They had a hunger for success. As a result they were vastly better off than their parents but now, we are not in that situation.

"Today it is more about the pressure of living up to parental expectations; getting a degree, training, and a good job, combined with a much tougher economy."

Over the past couple of decades the trend has been for someone to spend the first ten or so years following a career and learning from a larger institution with a view to venturing out on their own. Yet in reality, people become good at making money and get too comfortable.

"They don't want to break out," says Alex Brummer. "That tendency to edge towards a profession has muted a lot of the ingenuity. I think we have lost a lot of the post-war generation of people who had a lot of 'go out and get it.' We have been too prosperous for too long. I fear that Anglo-Jewry has become very conventional and establishment-orientated."

Mr Ohrenstein points out "real succession issues" among the major successful Jewish businesses. "The founders' children are either not interested in taking over, or, for governance reasons, the reins can't just be handed over."

What's more, several family-run firms have been swallowed up by multi-national corporations and it has become harder to start again.

"Long gone are the days where you could sell aerials from your car boot," says Daniel Seal, chief executive of UK Israel Business. "Setting up a business now needs significant financial backing, and there is a huge risk associated with it."

Former journalist-cum-businesswoman Lisa Berwin comes from a rare long line of entrepreneurs. Her great-great-grandfather set up suit company Berwin & Berwin, now run by her grandfather, father and sister, and her late great-uncle, Stanley, founded leading law firm, S J Berwin.

Lisa, 30, recently launched her own PR firm but believes "setting up a business today is a scarier prospect than it used to be. I don't know many people my age who have launched their own business."

Many Jewish success stories have come from the US (Mark Zuckerberg's Facebook and Reid Hoffman's LinkedIn) or Israel. The UK's entrepreneurship has been hindered by the global crisis, and smaller businesses have struggled to make the transition to larger ones. That said, there are some exciting entrepreneurs who have been successful; and attempts are now being made by a new breed of digital entrepreneurs.

Jonathan Stankler, KPMG partner and head of technology for KPMG corporate finance, says his firm takes start-ups "extremely seriously. Of all the sectors, a small start-up technology company could be the next Google."

Technology has without doubt changed the business landscape. All companies must embrace it to survive. Mr Stankler says: "Unless you have an app and can embrace technological change, you will fall behind. Perhaps this is where businesses with an older mindset have struggled."

One success story is Leeds-based Xtras Accessories. The family-run firm, which sells hair extensions, discounted beauty products and fragrances across the UK, was set up by husband-and-wife Sandra and Andy White, in 1984. Daughter Leah and son-in-law Steven Berke have since joined, and last year launched an e-commerce division.

Mr Berke, 28, says: "Developing the digital side of our company is vitally important to us, and it's currently the entire focus of my role. While many high-street retailers have struggled in recent years, e-commerce has enjoyed, year on year, double-digit growth, and with the rise of mobile and tablet devices, this trend will only continue."

Mr Berke believes that being a family-run organisation is beneficial to business. "It helps us retain a close relationship with our staff - a majority of them have been working for us for many years. In our niche market, we can operate in a more flexible manner which allows us to react more quickly to ever-changing and unpredictable trends. We regard this as key to our success."

The business environment appears gradually to be changing back in favour of entrepreneurism, and many argue that the start-up culture is now more fruitful than ever.

Zac Gazit, head of UJIA's business division, says: "There was a gap, but we are now seeing a new trend in UK Jews launching start-ups. There had been a delay compared to other countries, partly due to the financial situation and lack of government commitment, but society's view towards entrepreneurship has changed."

According to a report last year from the Department for Business Innovation and Skills, there are 4.5 million small businesses operating across the UK, with SMEs accounting for 99 per cent of all enterprises in the UK.

Now an increasing number of 30-to-40-yearolds are having a crack at their own businesses. Dan Reinhold, senior business development manager for KPMG in London says: "People think that if they are going to strike out on their own they should do it by 40."

Shraga Zaltzman, managing director of Jewish business-assistance organisation, TrainE-TraidE, says: "We are receiving more than eight inquiries a week from new businesses".

The UK now has its own entrepreneurial hub in London's East End. Home to around 5,000 technology-focused companies - and growing - the area has been dubbed Silicon Roundabout, perhaps Europe's biggest challenge to California's Silicon Valley.

The UK government has also been playing its part with David Cameron's declared intention to boost London's role as a world-class "Tech City." It has pledged £400 million to London's tech economy and set out major policy changes encouraging entrepreneurship.

Daniel Saunders, chief of staff, for trade and economic affairs at London's Israel Embassy, says: "Britain has recognised the need to grow the start-up culture in the UK and has looked to Israel for inspiration and collaboration."

The growth of social networking is also having an effect. Several sites and LinkedIn and Facebook groups have popped up to encourage businesss, such as Our Entrepreneurship, Start-up Specialists and UJIA Ignite.

And several first-generation digital entrepreneurs are now actively mentoring the new generation through projects such as Seedcamp, established by father and son Robin and Saul Klein in 2007.

Thirty-year-old lawyer Gemma Posner, founder of popular Facebook group, Our Entrepreneurship, says: "I was always hearing about small businesses being set up, particularly baking ones, so I thought setting up the group would be a good way of supporting each other in the community. I would prefer to spend my money with someone in the community whom I might know, rather than someone I don't know.

"Setting up a business can be expensive, especially advertising, so it is a way of helping people get exposure."

According to Ivor Tucker, chief executive of Entrepreneurs World, "the critical issue is for aspiring entrepreneurs is to know that they don't have to do it all alone - there is an enormous amount of goodwill from within the community to help other entrepreneurs succeed. Unlike the corporate world, entrepreneurs are very willing to share knowledge, experience and connections."

UK Israel Business recently launched its Working Lunch Club to help SMEs explore new business opportunities.

Young Jews are setting up businesses in the technology, media and telecommunications sectors. Exciting entrepreneurs and start-ups include Bradley Starr, founder of Bizantra, a company supplying software products to SMEs. His previous start-up, Miller Star, was sold to a major US advertising agency, now part of McCann Erickson.

There is Shai Weiss, founding partner of Sir Richard Branson's Virgin Green Fund, which invests in renewable technologies; Andrew Showman, founder of CurrentBody.com, the UK's leading online supplier of electrical health, fitness and beauty products; Bernard Howard, who sold his niche recruitment sites TotallyLegal.com and TotallyFinancial.com plus the Australian versions to Trinity Mirror in 2007; and Rob Keve, whose customer-feedback software provider, Fizzback, was sold to Israeli technology provider NICE Systems for $80 million.

Bradley Starr says: "It's a tough environment but there are opportunities for original thinkers. A big positive today is that it has never been cheaper to start a business due to the low cost of technology and the ability to network."

And while the landscape is changing and Anglo Jewry's start-up boom continues, there is still a long way to go. A greater hunger is needed, combined with a media and government shift towards a greater celebration of entrepreneurship, to ensurethat the next generation of talent will opt, not to join Goldman Sachs or BLP, but to establish their own business - and it might just be the next Facebook or LinkedIn.

From rags to riches - and back? Overcoming the jobs crisis

Jennifer Lipman — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 11:54:06 +0000

If ever there was a time for the Jewish community to learn from its history, it is now, as many face economic difficulties and poor job prospects.

"The situation is dire for graduates," said Shraga Zaltzman, managing director of Jewish careers company, TrainE-TraidE, which worked with around 1,700 people last year. "The market is not good, and companies are looking to cut costs. Five years ago, if you sent out 10 applications, you would get a job. Not now."

But a dire situation - of a different nature - is what faced 300,000 immigrant Jews at the turn of the 20th century, who, according to research by academic David Phillips, arrived in the late 1880s, "virtually penniless".

At the turn of the last century, 71 per cent of Jews were working-class wage-earners, said Professor David Feldman, author of Jewish Workers in the Modern Diaspora. A hundred years later, the size of the "working class" is unclear but, at the 2001 census, a mere 17 per cent worked in "wholesale and retail trade" or as car mechanics.

How Britain's Jews went, after the Second World War, from a ragged collection of Yiddish-speaking immigrants to the new stereotypes of the Jewish doctor, lawyer, or accountant is an intriguing question, but what is certain is that the community played a significant role.

Contrary to popular belief, not all Jews in late-19th-century Britain were impoverished - or, at the other extreme, wealthy members of "the Cousinhood".

"There was always a Jewish middle class, living in Maida Vale and places like that" said Professor Feldman. This existed decades before the arrival of the Russian Jews. In fact, Jewish men "were disproportionately represented in the Stock Exchange even then - in the 1870s, something like five per cent of it was Jewish."

By the eve of the First World War, there was "a small but growing middle class of Jewish entrepreneurs - jewellers and pawnbrokers, watchmakers, or people in the entertainment industry," added Professor Geoffrey Alderman. "There was also a small, affluent, middle class who were in the professions, as barristers and solicitors, architects or builders."

So, when the penniless Jews arrived, many were able to find work with fellow Jews. Others started working as independent boot- shoe- and cap-makers, cabinet builders, or in the rag or fur trades, with the help of loans from the Jewish Board of Guardians (the precursor of Jewish Care).

According to Mr Phillips, "in the 25 years after 1880 [the Board of Guardians] made… an average of nearly one £5 loan for every immigrant family."

"What Anglo-Jewry did was provide a supply of capital, so there was less potential for a Jewish under-class to emerge," said Prof Feldman. "They helped prevent some people from sinking deep into poverty".

Although no specific moment at which the shift occurred has been pinpointed, a number of factors led to the rise of the Jewish middle class.

"Poor though immigrants were, they didn't suffer from poverty of aspiration," said Professor Alderman. "They knew the way out for their sons and daughters was through education."

Universities and medical schools began opening their doors to Jews and, as more Jews began working in the professions, opportunities came up for others. Meanwhile, new generations of immigrants arrived to fill the gaps in the trades that other Jews had once dominated.

Some stayed in their old trades - for example, the fur business or tailoring, but occupied managerial roles or built family businesses. Others set up shops and pubs, or worked as taxi drivers or barbers. Still others went into professions that, as Professor Alderman said, were "routes to legitimise themselves" in the eyes of the elite, including teaching, medicine and politics.

"The community created opportunities for other members. It happened by accident," said Professor Alderman.

Fields like accountancy "had relatively low barriers to entry - a young man could get articles with a family with whom his parents had connections, and then he was on his way," said Professor Feldman. He said the importance of these "networks" could go towards explaining why a Jewish boy in the 1950s would be "more likely to go into a Jewish law firm than into the National Coal Board".

Professor Feldman said that a key factor was the "massive expansion of higher education in Britain in the post-war period, in particular the 1960s, and the ways in which Jews were positioned to take advantage of the opportunities that that brought".

By 2001, most Jews were working in "white collar" jobs. A quarter were "managers and senior officials", a figure that was just 15.1 per cent for the wider population.

In recent boom years, the importance of these community networks may have waned but many believe the Jewish community should use the current vacuum - for graduates and for anyone looking to get back into work - as an opportunity to revive what it was once famed for.

As a measure against the recession, the Union of Jewish Students has developed several career programmes, including networking events and master classes where students can meet experts in particular fields.

As recent graduates, UJS's officers are well aware of the difficult situation but they have found the community very willing to help.

"We are fortunate that we have a lot of talented people and I don't think they've been made use of enough," said UJS's Emma Stone. She explained that, with graduates so fearful for their futures, people really value "practical and tangible advice".

Dan Rickman, who now works for the charity, Langdon, offers proof of how community contacts can help.Three weeks after being made redundant in December 2008, he had a new job in the community. "My parents were far away in Hove and I was frantic. I was incredibly fortunate to have contacts."

As their predecessors had been, Ms Stone said community members were often delighted to help graduates gain vital workplace experience. But the apprenticeships of old have given way to the unpaid internship, particularly in creative fields. This year, UJS hopes to provide 150 students with summer placements at top firms. Graduates are resigned to the fact that two weeks unpaid will often turn into something longer and more rewarding.

"A six-month internship that is basically a junior job, without salary or expenses - that's the prospect many of us are facing," said Charlotte Karp, a UJS officer who is herself job hunting. "That's the route. We're not happy, but what do you do?"

The increasingly competitive job market means students are delaying applications until after graduation, to concentrate on achieving vital top grades. The lucky few might be able to afford a gap year, some might opt for postgraduate study, but most will work for free to gain experience while they fill in endless applications.

Shraga Zaltzman - who shares stories of graduates, for whom he has arranged internships, turning up late, unshaven or inappropriately dressed - has scant sympathy: "People have been mollycoddled. Today's graduates have grown up in years of abundance; they haven't seen tough times.

"As a community, we're privileged and better off socio-economically, and it hasn't pushed people."

He thinks Jewish students need to revise their expectations about the lifestyles they want and the kinds of firms they will work in - even if they have to start their careers making the tea and stuffing envelopes.

Starting from modest means, in the manner of Sir Jack Cohen (whose market-stall business developed into Tesco), Lord Sugar and Vidal Sassoon (whose childhood was spent in a Jewish orphanage), is something the Jewish community used to be good at. Could current economic strife re-ignite that spirit and determination?

"It has definitely spurred people to look in areas that they would normally have never dreamed of," said Tash Kahn, a young professional who, as well as her day job in social media, marketing, runs a cup-cake business. She can point to several friends who have launched companies.

Mr Zaltzman also hopes that the economic situation will prompt young Jews to "think twice about university for the sake of university". But he admits there is still a "stigma" in the community attached to those who forgo or miss out on university education, much of it based on parental pressure and expectations.

The pattern of school/ university/job, established by the children and grandchildren of the 19th century immigrants, still holds sway.

UJS's research shows that most Jewish students don't worry about paying for university - probably because their parents are helping them - and "it's expected that you're going to get a good job," said Ms Karp.

Emma Cohen discovered after graduation that her history degree was "useless" and is now training to be a nurse - something she could have done straight out of school. "My generation has been influenced by the wishes of our parents to be accountants and doctors," she said. "We did law degrees and now cannot find jobs as lawyers."

The research shows that younger community members may at last be diverging from the path. Last year's Institute for Jewish Policy Research's National Jewish Student Survey revealed that more than 20 per cent of Jewish students were studying social sciences, a category that refers to economics and politics but not the previously much more popular subjects of philosophy or history.

Medicine and dentistry still attract high numbers, and UJS still sees demand for careers events catering to law and accountancy but demand is growing for creative industries.

Although following less conservative routes isn't new - Morris Abrahams was a key figure in the entertainment industry of Victorian Britain - Ms Karp said she has seen "a shift away from people following what they "were expected to follow.

"It's the financial situation, but also people are starting to look more broadly at what careers are available." Young Jews, it seems, are going into fields that might not have been available to their parents and grandparents - for example social media, computing, marketing and PR, or graphic design - while others, who might once have gone into law or accountancy, are drawn to investment banking and management consultancy, fields that have grown in scope in recent decades.

Whether this will spur a geographical move in pursuit of jobs is a different matter. Jewish graduates still flock to north London, whether or not they grew up there.

By contrast, in the late 19th century, Jews went in the other direction, moving to places like Grimsby, Cardiff or Liverpool to find work.

With so many low-paid graduate jobs - or, in the case of internships, unpaid - the present situation is not sustainable for many from regional communities who can't stay in the family home while they find work.

Susie Gordon, community development executive for Leeds Jewish Representative Council, believes the jobs crisis could actually counter the exodus from the regional communities.

She is developing programmes to highlight Leeds as an alternative to the London rat race.

"A generation ago, young Jews wouldn't necessarily move to find a job, they could pick their city and get the job they wanted," she said. "I don't think people can be as choosey now."

And for a community that, 100 years ago, had only 10 per cent of women in the workforce - before they were married, of course - few Jewish women are now in a position to choose not to work.

The stereotype of the Jewish girl awaiting a rich husband to support her - still far from unknown a generation ago - no longer rings true for young Jewish women.

"It's not a feminist issue," said Shraga Zaltzman. "Twenty years ago, you could survive on a single salary. It's impossible today, especially with the lifestyles we aspire to and things like kosher food."

The youth of today's Jewish community, like their great-grandparents, face significant challenges. But now, as then, there are opportunities, and most believe things will turn around.

Top firms are still hiring, argued Ms Karp, and given that "Jewish students go to the best universities in the country", they are well-placed to get those jobs.

Food, glorious food, and the state of kashrut from plate to consumer

Marcus Dysch — Thu, 23 Feb 2012 11:59:24 +0000

Tributes flowed around the world when the iconic Bloom's restaurant in Golders Green finally closed its doors in 2010.

But while the likes of Steven Berkoff, Maureen Lipman and Giles Coren mourned its demise, others questioned how such a supposedly popular eaterie, which first opened in Whitechapel in 1920, could end up going into liquidation.

Bloom's demise is partly attributable to a change in diners' habits. British Jews are no longer content with simple Ashkenazi dishes similar to what their grandmothers served throughout the last two centuries. Now the demand is for as full a range of restaurants providing kosher versions of world cuisine, much as customers in the non-kosher market would expect.

Rabbi Jeremy Conway, of the London Beth Din's kashrut division, said the number and range of restaurants on offer in north west London - and the inevitable question over supply and demand - was under constant discussion.

"There has been an incredible change over the past decade. Once we were amazed to have six restaurants; now it's changed out of all proportion. It's very exciting from our perspective," he said.

It is thought there are more than 40 kosher eateries in the capital, licensed by the LBD and other kashrut authorities such as the Federation of Synagogues Beth Din, the Sephardi Kashrut Authority, and the Union of Orthodox Hebrew Congregations' Kedassia.

Rabbi Conway understands the difficulties that proliferation creates, but said: "Obviously it looks different when you have had a long-standing, successful business. It has been suggested that we should refuse to give new licences and protect the older venues, but we have to do what is best [for the community]. The more restaurants the better."

The difficult economic climate has had an effect on the industry. Applications for new kosher licenses are down, and several restaurants have revamped their style of food and decoration - or even moved location.

Bloom's has not been the only place to close in the past two years. The first attempt at a kosher pub - Fernandez in Hendon - came and went, as did Edgware pizzeria Tutti Gusti. Yet Tira, a new kosher pub in Golders Green, opened last month, and its owners hope to land significant business by hosting simchahs and charity functions.

So why do it? What attraction can there be in entering such a difficult market, with a limited number of customers to attract in tough economic times?

David Steinhof, director of the Sephardi Kashrut Authority, said last month that diners witness busy restaurants in the evening and imagine the money pouring in, but the unsociable hours and daytime empty tables go unseen. It takes at least two years, he believes, for a restaurant to establish itself and survive.

Jacques Marciano, owner of White Fish restaurant in Hendon, opened his business last year after a career in the fashion industry. His decision was based on a "passion" for food, but his desire to run a restaurant was such that he went ahead, despite understanding the difficulties.

He said: "I waited for an opportunity and I saw an opening for a nice fish and chip restaurant. I went through all the kashrut issues with the London Beth Din. They looked at my background and my kids' Jewish schooling, everything. We had meetings with the dayanim. It was a very thorough process.

"You wonder why so many kosher restaurants open and close quickly and the failure rate is perceived as so much higher than for non-kosher businesses. There are many reasons. There are more restaurants now but there are not more people wanting to eat in them.

"Businesses think they can do better or offer something that others are not already doing. But the community is demanding, and the kashrut demands make it harder too."

Mr Marciano said that something as simple as the washing of vegetables to ensure they are kosher carries a substantial financial burden. The process, he said, sees the loss of up to half his stock and the inevitable additional cost that incurs. Some kosher food items are hard to source, leading suppliers to charge restaurateurs ever-higher prices.

"Everything involved becomes so expensive, and that's a high proportion of the problem. If I can make enough to pay my bills I will be happy. It's really so hard to make money in this industry, that's why people come and go so quickly. It's a real challenge."

The streets of north west London may be lined with often empty kosher eateries, but the capital's centre, with its tourist and business markets, offers little.

Rabbi Conway said: "I understand the rates are so high in central London and that makes it very difficult. We have a long way to go to catch up with somewhere like Paris."

He said the declining Jewish population in provincial communities meant sustaining a kosher restaurant was ever-more difficult.

"You might try to open something one or two nights a week and if you can make an arrangement with your synagogue or community centre to have low rent and make it a family business with low overheads, then it might be feasible. But to have a thriving business you need a bigger community."

Despite that, there are plans to open a new kosher eatery in Ilford, Essex, and a number have already opened in Borehamwood, Hertfordshire.

In Leeds, where there are no full-time licensed kosher restaurants, community members eat at The Vine, a "pop-up" restaurant open two days a week at the city's Ziff Community Centre.

Diner Malcolm Taylor said: "Originally it was open every night but there were not enough people to sustain it. Now you can eat here on Thursday and Sunday evenings or Sunday brunch. It's reasonably well used.

"It does mean on a Thursday night it is pretty full and you will always see people you know. The food is always good and the menu changes every month. You find people come from Manchester to visit their friends in Leeds and eat here, rather than Leeds people going to Manchester."

Mr Taylor said experience had proved there were not enough kashrut-observant diners in Leeds to sustain a full-time restaurant, "but with The Vine it is a lot better than before, when we had nothing".

Commentators have often considered the increased number of restaurants to be something of an anomaly at a time when the number of people keeping kosher at home is perceived to be declining.

But the facts seem to contradict such beliefs. The latest version of the London Beth Din's Really Jewish Food Guide contains more than 7,000 licensed products available in Britain.

Michelle Teiman, a buyer at the Yarden store in Golders Green, said Jewish families wanted more sophisticated, adventurous home cooking options, developed substantially from what traditional kosher butchers once offered.

Jacky Lipowicz, chairman of the Licensed Kosher Meat Traders' Association, said new opportunities both in restaurants and at home were developing side-by-side, at no significant detriment to butchers.

"I supply quite a few kosher restaurants. One of the big ones I work with is the equivalent for me of supplying 100 homes a week. They do get it supplied cheaper because of the bulk purchase, but one compensates the other," he said.

"It's not counter-productive. We are offering people a wider range than ever before. Kosher restaurants have become more up-market and so the butchers have as well. You can now take a non-Jewish friend to a kosher restaurant and not be ashamed or embarrassed."

Mr Lipowicz said changes to work and living habits meant the kosher market has also had to adapt: "People like things pre-prepared now but many do still want to make their own chicken soup and chopped liver.

"But the world has changed, and with more women working, they want to buy ready-made kosher meals. We provide that and it is now easier to keep kosher. We are doing more to help the consumer."

He said that working with restaurants was helping kosher butchers, as consumers will enjoy a meal and then want to replicate it at home, asking the butcher to provide the same steak or lamb that they were served in the restaurant.

The general increase in food prices is being felt, however. Mr Lipowicz said kosher butchers were doing everything possible to keep rises – such as the 50 per cent increase in lamb prices – from consumers.

He predicted that as long as the volume of meat sold for home consumption remains steady, the cost can be kept down.

When it comes to kosher caterers, there is success at both the top and more budget ends of the market.

Big name, big price caterers, such as Tony Page, remain busy despite the economic difficulties families face, but businesses which offer more cost-effective simchah meals also report brisk trade.

Those working throughout the industry are agreed on one point - the importance of families having the option of an affordable kosher simchah, rather than a straight choice between an unaffordable kosher caterer and a non-kosher meal.

Kosher in small communities

Marcus Dysch — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 11:57:34 +0000

No kosher butcher, no kosher baker, and not even any Shabbat candles for sale.

What do you do when you want to keep kosher but your nearest kashrut-friendly store is three hours away by car?

While British Jews living in more sizeable communities are accustomed to popping out at any time to their local store for hechshered items of all descriptions, those in more modest-sized communities face considerable problems.

For many a choice has to be made between going to great lengths to source and store kosher food, or taking the difficult decision to have either a non-kosher – or at least largely vegetarian – diet. Despite the difficulties, few Jews find it impossible to have at least some kosher provision. The efforts made to keep kosher represent a dedicated personal mission for many people.

Sandy Bennett explained how she meticulously plans ahead at home in Norwich: "I have to think about what we are going to do, and what we will eat, when. I used to have an extra freezer in the garage. I keep 'emergency' frozen schnitzels in for unforeseen occasions.

"We get regular deliveries from Titanics kosher store in Manchester. That's the easiest way, although you cannot be sure what you're going to get – it's not quite the same as going into a shop and selecting something yourself."

Mrs Bennett and other Norwich Hebrew Congregation members often order pre-made meals from London-based catering firm Hermolis. But they regularly revert to a simple tried-and-tested method – shlepping.

"We used to have a huge car and we would go to London or Essex and fill it up with food for everybody in the community. But then you do worry about what state the meat will be in when you get home after a three-hour drive. We are really isolated, but when there's a will there's a way," said Mrs Bennett.

The difficulties are not only experienced at home. Some communities struggle when planning simchahs or communal meals.

Rabbi Anna Gerrard of Gloucestershire Liberal Jewish Community helped to organise a lunch for congregants earlier this year. The community decided that obtaining a kosher licence would be too difficult and costly and decided to have a vegetarian meal at Cheltenham Guildhall. Visitors from Leo Baeck College were asked to bring kosher items from London as a "top-up".

Rabbi Gerrard explained: "It's beneficial to us to be able to hold an event that way rather than go somewhere with a full kashrut licence. We couldn't do it and couldn't afford it."

She said non-Jewish staff at the local venue had been extremely co-operative, and for one meal had even learnt how to make matzah balls for the soup.

Rabbi Gerrard believes some benefits can be drawn from the community's experiences: "We had been bringing challot from London 10 at a time. At times we had to do without if we ran out. So one member of the community decided to start making challah for everyone every week. That's more special for us than bringing from out of town."

She said it was important for Jews in smaller communities to realise they could encourage stores to stock kosher ranges if they could prove people were prepared to buy regularly.

Victoria Green, a buyer for Waitrose, agreed: "The breadth of our kosher range depends on the size of the branch and customer demand. Our kosher products are stocked in around 38 branches nationwide and we aim to offer a broad selection, especially during Passover when we experience a surge in demand."

The Manchester deli and butcher Titanics provides next-day deliveries by courier to almost all of mainland Britain. Director Richard Hyman said: "We know there are people who are not able to get provisions when they want. Our customers are spread from the Hebrides all the way down to Plymouth.

"We lose money on the delivery side of it but we try to be cost-effective because there are people who would go without kosher items if we couldn't provide them."

Organisations such as Chabad also work to provide kosher food wherever needed. Many of its rabbis run kosher cafés in their local communities where no permanent kosher restaurant exists, as well as helping to cater small simchas, charity events, and even funerals.

There is, understandably, particular focus on Shabbat and festival meals. Ilford-based Rabbi Aryeh Sufrin organises a volunteer-run Pesach shop in Essex and delivers items to elderly and disabled Jews as far away as Cambridge, 50 miles north, and Southend, 30 miles east.

In Islington, north London, Chabad's Rabbi Mendy Korer has often been called on to help solve unique challenges. Last November an American student living in London requested his assistance to locate a kosher turkey for Thanksgiving. But not just any turkey – it had to be one small enough to fit in the oven at the student's halls of residence kitchen.

After placing a special order with a kosher butcher, Rabbi Korer was able to ensure the student could celebrate in traditional style.

Jewish families in Solihull and a string of towns and villages scattered across the Midlands including Stratford-upon-Avon, Coventry, Warwick and Telford are served by Chabad's Rabbi Yehuda Pink. He said: "We receive many requests from residents and tourists looking for help obtaining kosher food. Assisting a person who requires help in a material issue is also a mitzvah and we are always ready to help in any way we can."

Problems associated with keeping kosher are not restricted to regular day-to-day issues – difficulties catering simchahs are regularly raised nationwide.

Manchester's Council of Synagogues has repeatedly discussed what can be done to stem the trend of non-kosher barmitzvah celebrations in the city.

A number of rabbis last year wanted to encourage families to sign agreements committing to serve only supervised food at simchahs, prompting Manchester Beth Din's Dayan Yitzchok Berger to warn of the dangers of alienating young Jews and their families, burdened with the cost of an expensive kosher-licensed function.

Many families have instead chosen to celebrate at a non-religious venue, holding their simchah in a hotel ballroom or conference centre with either a non-meat or vegetarian meal provided by the venue or a non-kosher caterer.

Mark Clyne, director at Manchester's Celia Clyne Banqueting, said the decline of communities in Liverpool, Birmingham and elsewhere was having a "noticeable" effect on the number and size of simchahs.

He said: "With many once vibrant communities dying away, there is a problem when they want to hold a kosher simchah. In Leicester there's a small community but they rally around. If someone wants a kiddush for maybe 50 people, we can send the food and they then have a small army of people in the community to set everything up. For us it's not necessarily about making a profit; we'd rather people had kosher food available. We are trying to do our bit to help."

Keeping the faith - or a marriage of convenience?

Jessica Elgot — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 11:59:25 +0000

In Rabbi Jonathan Romain's conversion class, there have been couples converting together, religious Christians, an ex-Muslim convert, policemen, soldiers and housewives.

But although converts come to him from all walks of life, as the Movement for Reform Judaism's conversion expert Rabbi Romain has identified some key trends.

Around 90 per cent come with a Jewish partner; there are around five times as many women as men and a disproportionate number of Catholics. Most common of all is the reason converts give for being attracted to Judaism. It's the sense of family, culture and "camaraderie", said Rabbi Romain.

"There's always an accusation that they are just doing it for the sake of a white wedding, but 50 per cent of converts are already married. They like the faith, the family, the tradition and way of life. We like it, why should we be surprised others like it?

"It is not a bad thing that many convert with a Jewish partner, Judaism is a family-based religion, and if you have a Jewish partner you are rooted into it. Although there are people who come alone, it is much harder for them. It's hard to do Pesach or Shabbat for one, to be Jewish on your own.

"But most people who marry a Jew don't convert, it's not easy, it's extremely difficult in the Orthodox, and takes at least a year in the Reform. You are taking on a heck of a lot. No-one would really do that just for a 20 minute
ceremony."

Intermarriage would appear to be an increasing trend, with Rabbi Romain's annual "I'm Jewish, My Partner Isn't" seminar recording double the number of couples attending last month.

But conversion rates over the last five years have stayed remarkably steady, apart from Liberal conversions. Eighty-five people converted through the Liberal movement last year, up from 71 the previous year.

In the Reform Movement, 106 adults and 39 under-16s converted in 2011 and this figure has been steady for the last 25 years, with no significant rise or fall in numbers. Conversions do take place in smaller communities, as long as a rabbi can supervise, and last year seven people converted in Glasgow and 11 in Manchester.

Rabbi Romain said steady figures could indicate "rabbis may not be proactive enough in reaching out to mixed-faith couples. Most will see the conversion process as utterly impossible, intimidating. Yes, of course, it involves effort and commitment, but it is for ordinary people."

Orthodox conversions are also steady at around 35 people a year, apart from a bumper crop of 54 in 2009, under the auspices of the London Beth Din.

The process, which includes a period of around six months living with an observant Jewish family, takes between three and four years, sometimes longer. Prospective converts with a Jewish partner take up around half of the Orthodox intake.

Daniel Greenberg has tutored Orthodox converts for the London Beth Din for a decade, and is the author of How to Become Jewish (And Why Not To). He feels strongly about the discrimination still faced by converts. "We have a racist attitude to converts. I was once with a group of Orthodox Jews, one of whom made a disparaging comment about converts, which I rebutted. He said, 'Yes, but you wouldn't want one in your family.'

"I would love my children to marry someone as turned-on religiously, and as inspiring, as real converts. These people often see more in it than we do. It is something to be proud of."

Rabbi Romain agreed. "Other faiths are much more welcoming, they see it as a compliment, and we see it as a threat. I don't know why we are so nervous of other people."

Zahavit Shalev, who runs an 18-month Masorti conversion course at New North London Synagogue in Finchley, said it was often single female Masorti converts who were most worried about potential discrimination.

"They are worried they will not find a partner in this Jewish world. It's a litmus test for a potential relationship, if it's a problem. And they know there are potentially problems for their children in the Orthodox world, or they could fall in love with someone who objects to their status, which could be horrible. We talk about that in the classes."

In the Masorti movement, Ms Shalev said, they were normally accepting of conversions made via Progressive batei din. "We would very likely accept someone who had had a Liberal conversion, if they went to mikveh and a beit din had approved their conversion. But no circumcision would be an issue for us."

Mr Greenberg was adamant that only someone with true dedication to Orthodox Judaism should attempt to convert via the London Beth Din. "I advise people that if they are at all interested in Progressive Judaism, convert through the Reform or consider not converting at all. If you are considering intermarriage, and the only reason to consider converting is to avoid a row, then just be a man, have some guts and intermarry. You have not been given a good enough reason by your parents, intellectually or religiously, why you should not.

"This is unusual advice," he admitted. "People do take the line that if we do not lower the bar, the community will shrink. I say, we'll still daven while we've got a minyan. The religion is something I believe in very strongly, and if someone wants to join me in it, they are very welcome. But they can't do it for the piece of paper."

Converts are not often grilled about a belief in God, which can be hard for converts from non-religious backgrounds to express. Mr Greenberg said: "The conversion process run by the London Beth Din is about religious practice. But I did have a candidate who told Dayan Binstock he would do everything but he did not believe in God, and did that matter? Of course, the dayan said, 'Sorry, it does, you're out.'"

Ms Shalev from New North London said it was tricky to navigate. "We can't read your mind, that's between you and God. All we can do is pass judgment on how well you are leading a Jewish life."

Rabbi Romain takes a different approach. "My view is that you don't have to believe in God, you just have to do what He says. There are many different ways of being Jewish, and as long as the culture, values and tradition are real for you then it does not matter if you have questions over the theology."

Hardest for converts can be the acceptance of their own families. Mr Greenberg said that there was a responsibility to acknowledge a convert's roots, and no rabbi should demand that they broke with their family. They may visit at Christmas and even sit shivah for non-Jewish parents.

"Halachah can adapt to human sensitivity far better than people think. Even saying kaddish is not a problem halachically. And emotionally it's very, very important. They should recognise where they come from. I cannot think of any of the converts I have taught, of whom I am most proud, who have broken from their families as part of the process."

Rabbi Romain agreed: "Honour your mother and father still applies."

The age-gap peril we'll all have to face

Jennifer Lipman — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 12:52:28 +0000

In Nightingale's South London care home, you'll see Singer sewing machines, old family photographs and other trinkets associated with the past.

With about two-thirds of Nightingale's 200 residents suffering from dementia, the intention is to trigger memories, acknowledging that the needs of today's elderly people are different from their predecessors'.

"Nightingale has concerts and discussion groups, which help us to keep mentally alert," said resident Sylvia Berman, 96, praising it as "the top" home.

"It's a wonderful place," agreed Miriam Samuels, 97. "You have the physio, the doctor and all the activities you need."

But as Leon Smith, Nightingale's chief executive, is well aware, providing such services - streamlined to individual needs - does not come cheap. He and many other care experts believe that, in the future, families must prepare to contribute more towards care of elderly relatives. As in many western countries, Britain's population is ageing; people are living longer and expecting a better standard of care, putting more pressure on existing services.

For the Jewish community, the situation is even more pressing. Overall, "life expectancy among Jews will be higher than the general population," said David Graham, a demographer at the Institute for Jewish Policy Research. At the last Census, 12.4 per cent of Britain's Jewish community was over 75, compared with 7.5 per cent in the population at large.

Further, people who have lived their lives outside the community often return to the fold as they age. "It can be really important that, when they go into a care home, it's a Jewish care home," said Neil Taylor, director of community services for Jewish Care, which offers services for the elderly ranging from residential care to support groups in London, Southend and Brighton.

For charities and local authorities, the traditional means of helping families meet the costs of care are no longer sustainable. "There is increased competition for the same pot," said Karen Phillips, chief executive of Manchester's Federation of Jewish Services, adding that at Heathlands Care Village, which MFJS administers, they absorb losses of £300 per week per resident.

Leon Smith agreed: "We are fortunate in the number of bequests we get but I'm not sure that there is a future in them, because more people are going to be spending on care, or their pensions. Families could be doing an awful lot more, even if it means seeing their inheritance going on care fees".

"Even if the economy improves, it will never be the same," said Neil Taylor. Future fundraising would have to be targeted at those who really cannot pay.

The shortfall is worse because, compared to 30 years ago, far more old and immobile people require costly full-time nursing or one-on-one care, not to mention the need for highly trained staff and volunteers. Meanwhile, criteria for local authority funding have become stricter. Mr Smith said that, unless people could pay for private care, only "the sickest of the sick and the frailest of the frail, people that need pretty much everything done for them, would have residential care".

All others will be encouraged to stay in their homes. While this is often seen as preferable, it presents a challenge to their families. And it heightens the risk of isolation. Today's 70-to-90-year-olds may be in better physical health than their parents were at the same age, but they are still vulnerable to loneliness.

Among Jews, there is an above-average number of one-person units, many of them single older people and particularly women living alone.

Across the community, families are more spread out. In smaller communities, where the next generation has often moved away, "it has a huge impact," said Rebecca Weinberg, chief executive of the Leeds Jewish Welfare Board. "Less family support can influence mental well-being [and mean] increased unplanned hospital admissions because their health needs are not so well monitored."

"Older people in good health do lots of travelling to see their children. As they become less able, they can become more isolated," added Suzanne Neville, chief executive of Jewish Care Scotland. She and others stressed the wider Jewish community's responsibility to help fill the gap, and the need to build on the existing networks provided by shuls, charities and community centres, of bereavement groups, home-care visits and befriending programmes.

"We need people of all ages to contribute - financially and also volunteer," said Ms Phillips, who felt that the commitment of those in their 30s and 40s was not as strong as it used to be.

Many want to see a change in how retired Jews are perceived by the rest of the community - for example, encouraging organisations to consult them over new strategies. "Older people being given a voice in the Jewish community is very important," said Sylvia Berman.

Many of these difficulties are not unique to the Jewish community, but Jewish organisations face additional challenges from, for example, halachic rules at the end of life, keeping kashrut in residential homes, providing separate facilities for more Orthodox men and women, and educating non-Jewish staff about customs and traditions. In Manchester, where there is a growing Charedi community, services must be accessible to everybody. Likewise, with higher rates of intermarriage, organisations must decide if they will provide for non-Jewish spouses.

"Heathlands does have non-Jewish residents," said Ms Phillips. "It's a small number and because it is a charity for Jewish people, they have to pay privately but they can be with their partners. In future, it will be something we have to consider. It wouldn't change the nature of the organisation - people do gravitate back to the community as they get older, and it's right and proper to accept partners who are not Jewish. But it throws up lots of challenges."

As regional communities shrink, the viability of culturally specific care is called into question. "I hope we will always have provision," said Leeds's Rebecca Weinberg. "But we will have to look at more collaborative working and offer services to non-Jewish service users. It will be important to retain the identity of the service as fundamentally Jewish."

There is plenty here to address and, with demographic and financial pressures piling up, we need to do so fast. But, as Ms Weinberg points out, "we've been doing this for centuries".