Genius or a Dangerous Gamble? The Secrets Behind Early Zionism – Why the Jezreel Valley?
- Nir Topper

- 6 days ago
- 3 min read
We have grown accustomed to viewing the Jezreel Valley as a symbol of flourishing agriculture and pastoral landscapes. Yet, until about a century ago, this region was known by a very different name: "The Valley of Death." In the late 19th century, the valley was not "empty" by chance, but rather the result of Ottoman imperial neglect that turned it into a lawless "backyard." Ancient drainage systems had collapsed, the Kishon River was blocked, and the swamps created massive breeding grounds for Anopheles mosquitoes. Malaria struck with such ferocity that morbidity rates sometimes reached 100%, forcing the local inhabitants to abandon the fertile plains and flee to the mountains. Mark Twain, visiting the region in 1867, described it as a complete wasteland where "one may ride ten miles hereabouts and not see ten human beings."
However, the transformation of the valley did not begin with a plow, but rather with a dry bureaucratic law and an aristocratic family from Beirut. In 1858, the Ottomans enacted the new Land Code, intended to regulate land registration. The local fellahin (peasants), fearing that registration would lead to forced conscription and taxes, registered their lands in the name of the wealthy Sursock family, hoping for protection. In practice, this turned them into tenant farmers and allowed the Sursock family to purchase approximately 400,000 dunams for the ridiculous price of £20,000 in 1872. The Sursock family, managing their assets from Paris and Beirut as "absentee landlords," made no investments in infrastructure, and the valley sank deeper into the mud—both literally and figuratively.
Enter Yehoshua Hankin, the "Redeemer of the Valley," who identified a once-in-a-lifetime real estate opportunity: the chance to purchase a vast, contiguous territorial block from a single owner, without the need for Sisyphean negotiations with thousands of small farmers (as was required in the mountain regions). The Great Deal of 1921 was a colossal economic gamble; the Zionist institutions paid astronomical sums—about £750,000 (an unimaginable amount at the time)—for neglected land. The purchase nearly bankrupted the Jewish National Fund (JNF) and sparked a fierce debate between Menachem Ussishkin, who argued that "land has no price," and economists who feared insolvency. Ultimately, geopolitical considerations triumphed over accounting concerns.
Yet, the land purchase was merely the opening shot for the greatest engineering and ecological challenge the Yishuv had ever known. It became clear that a solitary farmer, or even a private colony, could not cope with the valley's topography, which required a systemic treatment of the entire drainage basin. Only the intervention of national capital (JNF) and centralized organization enabled the engineering feat of diverting streams, draining swamps, and employing innovative malaria eradication methods led by Dr. Israel Kligler. The Labor Battalion (Gdud HaAvoda) and the pioneers of Ein Harod and Nahalal paid a heavy price in health, but they succeeded in breaking the cycle of neglect.
The story of the Jezreel Valley is a microcosm of the entire Zionist enterprise: a rare combination of political pragmatism (seizing purchasing opportunities), organized national capital, and scientific and engineering innovation. It is a story of how a disaster-stricken frontier zone was transformed into the beating heart of settlement, and how decisions made in offices in Beirut and at Zionist Congresses shaped the physical and economic borders of the state-in-the-making. The next time you drive through the valley, remember: this green landscape is a victory of planning, daring, and a great deal of stubbornness.
Image: Yehoshua Hankin with his wife Olga, 1910.
Hankin proved to possess a unique talent for land redemption. He was well-versed in Ottoman land law, mastered the local Arabic dialect, understood Arab customs, and forged extensive ties with landowners. His wife was Olga (née Belkind), a midwife by profession, who, among others, delivered the children of the Arab landowners' wives. Image's source:





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