Families Continue to Struggle Amidst Argentina's Economic Disaster

Two years ago, Jorge was a prominent architect employed by one of the largest firms in Buenos Aires. His wife, Sarah, worked crafting leather jackets for women. The son of Holocaust survivors, Jorge had received his degree at Buenos Aires University under their free education policy, and began a successful career in Argentina's architectural sector. He was earning over $100,000USD and five years ago purchased a condominium where he moved with Sarah and their two children.

Jorge and Sarah were highly involved in Jewish communal life. They sent their son and daughter, 17 and 14, to Jewish day school, and had family memberships at both HaKoach Jewish Community Center and the Beth El conservative synagogue.

As the economic crisis in Argentina escalated, Jorge's company began laying-off employees. Due to seniority, Jorge was able to hold onto his job until the crisis bottomed out in December 2001, at which point he was let go. He has been unemployed since.

Reviewing their new budget, Jorge and Sarah pulled their kids out of Jewish day school, as they could no longer afford the $5,000 per child annual tuition. Within a few months, they canceled their JCC membership, unable to pay the $1,500 yearly fee. Sarah lost her job, and with no employment prospects for Jorge, they could no longer afford to be members of the synagogue, either. Too proud to attend services without paying, they disaffiliated.

Like Jorge and Sarah, tens of thousands of upper middle class Argentinean Jewish professionals lost their jobs – and life as they knew it – in the economic crisis that swept the country. Harsh conditions forced thousands of families to take their children out of Jewish day school, cancel memberships to Jewish communal institutions, and withdraw support for their synagogues. The impact on these institutions was immediate and devastating: JCC membership plummeted 50%, school enrollment declined 40% throughout the 1990's, and institutions that had been operational for over 100 years entered into dire need.

JDC reacted swiftly. The organization established 75 welfare centers throughout the country, helping 37,000 individuals. Among other services, the centers distribute supermarket credit cards (food vouchers) for families to purchase food and other vital goods, give subsidies for heat and electric bills, prescription drugs, and support for pregnant women and newborns with essential needs and medical care.

To keep a critical mass of Jewish youth in day school, JDC funded scholarships. JDC also established the Ariel Business Center to help place the growing pool of unemployed Jewish professionals, and when necessary, to retrain them in a new field. Through this center, individuals can obtain loans to start up a business—a rare service in Argentina, because banks no longer offer any credit.

JDC worked to restructure communal organizations to keep them afloat, for example by slashing operational costs of five Jewish day schools by merging their administrators into one.

Argentinean Jewry, once a vibrant, self-sufficient community of 200,000 that boasted only 2% poverty and considerable philanthropic contribution to Israel, became an urgent cause almost overnight. Today 60,000 Jews in Argentina – 30% of the Jewish population – live under the poverty line, slated at just slightly over $100/month for a family of three (Argentina used to function on a similar economic scale to that of the U.S., with one peso equaling one USD).

With no sign of economic recovery on the horizon, Jorge and Sarah discussed making aliyah in 2002, but they didn't speak Hebrew and architects were not in demand in Israel's unstable political and economic climate. They were discouraged by the suicide bombings they saw covered on CNN, particularly knowing that their son, 17, would have to serve in the army soon after his arrival in Israel. And when Sarah's elderly mother was diagnosed with cancer, the answer was clear: They could not leave Argentina, and would instead wait there for the economic situation to rebound.

In May 2003, Jorge sold the condominium and the family moved in with Sarah's mother. They have nearly exhausted their life savings, and are just getting by month to month. Jorge scrambles to find small jobs while Sarah cares for her mom. Thanks to scholarships from the JDC and Jewish Agency, their kids have stayed in Jewish day school. The family occasionally attends services at their synagogue, where the rabbi encourages the community to come and pray regardless of whether they can pay the membership.

Jorge and Sarah's experience is hardly singular. Even with the relative political stability of President Néstor Kirschner's government, unemployment in Argentina is still at 18% and resources are scarce. Formerly upper-middle class families, who carried on a rich tradition of Jewish life at home and generously supported Israel, are still struggling for basic food and healthcare. Contributions from the JDC, Jewish Agency, and other organizations have been vital to sustaining the community, and a few positive political and economic indicators have appeared in 2003. But people are still hungry, jobless, and longing for their lives to return to normal. Argentinean Jews are not out of crisis; they require a commitment of help to ensure that Argentina will again be the beacon it once was for global Jewish life.