Converge and Preserve: Argentina’s last Jewish gauchos
Photos and text by Sofia Bergmann
Argentina’s gauchos Judios — Jewish cowboys — are a disappearing community. They have been displaced by sociopolitical struggles that trace back to wars, dictatorships, persecution and recessions. Struggles seen today worlwide, from Palestine to the Congo and Ukraine. Their story poses the questions: How does the convergence of cultures manifest itself within diasporas that face extinction? Which intergenerational conflicts impact the values placed on preserving one’s own heritage? How do politics impact how a country welcomes foreigners or protects marginalized communities?
Argentina has the largest Jewish population in Latin America and the sixth largest in the world. But rarely is this subculture associated with the gauchos — decedents of mixed ancestry, typically Spanish and Native American. Known for roaming the Pampas on horseback and herding cattle to afford Argentina’s national dish, the gauchos have become a symbol of Argentina. But at the turn of the 20th century in the rural province of Entre Ríos, a peculiar niche was born: Jewish gauchos.
The story starts with the S.S. Weser, a ship carrying almost 900 Russian Jews escaping pogroms who settled in Entre Ríos and established the Moises Ville Colony in 1889. Shortly after, German philanthropist Maurice de Hirsch initiated the Jewish Colonization Association in 1891, giving Jews escaping fascism and pogroms chunks of land and some livestock in exchange for agricultural labour, hence the term ‘gauchos’. Hirsch’s efforts were centered around the Americas, but also had a short-lived branch in Ottoman Palestine which did not see any real settlements. Hirsch did not consider himself a Zionist but the branch was handed over to Edward de Rothschild in 1899, who would later become a key agent in displacing Palestinians during the Zionist movement.
Although now being displaced by Argentina’s current recession, the Jewish gauchos over in the fields of Entre Ríos were once a booming community which saw its peaks in the early 1900’s, spanning roughly 600,000 hectares with around 13,000 migrating every year — mostly from Eastern Europe. Then came the mixed-messages. Argentina’s leader throughout the 1940’s and 50’s, Juan Domingo Perón, welcomed Jews escaping Nazis, but also Nazis escaping trial in Europe after World War II. Argentina’s military junta which overthrew Perón until his return to power in the 1970’s, was stacked with ex-Nazis and antisemitism infiltrated Argentinian society during its brutal military dictatorship.
The presence of Jewish gauchos today in Entre Ríos has withered at an alarming pace through a rapid exodus to bigger cities: a lack of jobs and universities alongside a brutal, unprecedented ongoing recession, the termination of the railroad system in Entre Ríos and a general neglect from local municipalities with antisemitic undertones. Only few active synagogues and Jewish schools remain, along with a small museum in Villa Dominguez, ‘El Museo de Las Colonias Judias,’ which is run by Osvaldo Quiroga. Although not Jewish, Quiroga has singlehandedly archived the region’s Jewish-gaucho history which has made him a local hero among the few descendants left.
The struggle to remain united has pushed the community in Entre Ríos towards a survival-mode, either to preserve cultural traditions through pure self-initiative, or like many have, to leave it all behind. The story of Argentina’s Jewish gauchos, los gauchos Judios, is not unique — it is the story of migration, assimilation, survival, sociopolitical pressures infiltrating cultural identity, and generational struggles surrounding tradition.
SAN GREGORIO
“Today, my father is the last Jewish gaucho,” said Eduardo, or Edu Furman who is one of the few younger members of the community fighting to preserve its history. At 39, Edu has completely restored his family home in San Gregorio, Entre Ríos, and created a small cultural event space called ‘Don Natalio,’where he also lives. Visitors can host events and enjoy nature, local cuisine and learn about the town’s history. A small pink house, a barn and a pool, a pasture for some horses and geese, a nearby Jewish cemetery where his family is buried, his neighbor, Carlos Speling, who runs a small cattle ranch, and their parents, are essentially the only surviving relics of the Jewish gauchos in San Gregorio.
Down the road, the historic Synagogue of San Gregorio erected in 1893 in the former Sonnenfeld Colony, one of the first Synagogues in Latin America, has been abandoned for over 100 years with only its exterior facade remaining. Across from Carlos’s ranch, it is a daily reminder of the town that was once a bustling cultural hub.
“I don’t have support from anyone, there is no municipality that supports me,” he said. “There is still this barrier because I’m Jewish….I still feel a lot of discrimination.” During our interview in February, 2023, his requests for forms of funding for his business from the local government and the tourism office had been denied, even with many frequent visitors vouching for him and its historical significance.
Edu, whose family was originally from Russia and beneficiaries of the Baron Hirsch Association, left San Gregorio for primary school and spent 18 years in Concepción del Uruguay, a small city near the Uruguayan border where his teenage daughter still lives with her mother. He returned to San Gregorio during the Covid-19 Pandemic to renovate his family’s original home where he remembers his childhood of riding horses and tractors with his father and going to the synagogue with his family.
“This is a passion-project of mine, there is no one who will follow my footsteps as of now,” he said. His daughter enjoys the regular visits but does not identify much with her Jewish heritage. Edu and Carlos represent San Gregorio’s younger generation of descendents of Jewish gauchos, perhaps the last. “I came back to these parts because it reminds me of the happier times in my childhood,” he said, “here, I have peace.”
VILLA CLARA
“There were 55 pupils in this school, now there are 10,” said Patricia Acst. The changes happened in front of their eyes — growing up in Villa Clara, Entre Ríos, Patricia along with Clara Rabinovich, Susana Fink, Lidia Ester Apter de Mendelevich, and Berta Rosa Tevelez, remember a thriving Jewish community during their childhoods. They all form the Comunidad Isrealita Clara Beles, or Ale Tamen collective, and meet at the Escuela Hebrea Barón Hirsch Jewish primary school where Patricia and Lidia are teachers, as a way to combat the loss of Jewish identity in their hometown and to keep the traditions alive. The local synagogue opens for Jewish holidays, weddings, bar- and bat-mitzvahs and special occasions; otherwise, it stays closed.
The collective gathers every Wednesday in the school and the women prepare Jewish food, catch up and plan events. “The primary school is the only way to instill some form of Jewish culture in the younger generations,” said Patricia, adding that the younger members of the community in Villa Clara lack this urgency cling to what is left with many having moved to Buenos Aires due to the ongoing recession that has debilitated Argentina’s economy.
Without having very strong connections to their countries of origin, they all feel full-heartedly Argentine but see the value in preserving Judaism for the sake of community and tradition. “Our families didn’t share much about their childhoods, it was traumatic for them…they had to adapt themselves,” said Patricia.
Lidia’s family from Poland and Romania all left for Buenos Aires but recently returned to Entre Ríos. She said that her son and a few couples in Villa Clara represent what will be the future of the Jewish community there. “We still have some young people in the community, there is a pregnant couple now!” they said with excitement, “but it is always less and less…we don’t like to think about what will happen in the future.”
Hailing from Odessa, Clara’s family migrated in the early 1900’s for trade and business as Argentina’s Jewish communities established their prominence. While Patricia’s family from Russia was one of the first Jewish families to arrive around 1890, just one year before the Baron Hirsch Association of Jewish Colonies was founded, Lidia’s family came over in 1940 on what she said was the last ship of European Jews escaping World War II.
VILLAGUAY
“I never met my grandfather, I only met him via photographs from Russia…There was no communication like there is today, so we knew we had an uncle in Russia, but a lot of these stories disappeared. The only thing I can recount are mostly stories from here and the relations between my grandparents and the community of Villaguay — developing their new life, their work, their community.” Abraham Arkushin is a retired theater actor from Villaguay, a small city in Entre Ríos.
Abraham’s family hails from Poland and Russia and originally settled in Villa Dominguez via the Baron Hirsch Association in 1914. His father learned typography and was given a job in a printing press in Villaguay through a friend when Abraham was around two years old. Now nearing 80 years old, Abraham still lives in Villaguay as one of the oldest members of its Jewish community. The community did not pick up until 1953 he said, around the time when Abraham was a child and was built up by a handful of successful merchants including his father’s employer. Gauchos then started to leave the small settlements and moved down the road to Villaguay, which is more urban than the surrounding towns.
“I Ioved the people of this community, but unfortunately now, most have left due to Covid and other problems,” said Abraham. “Back when we were younger, when they would organize events to commemorate the Holocaust, around 500 to 400 kids would come to this community center. But antisemitism has remained and now many people don’t know much about antisemitism because it’s not taught anymore outside the home,” he said. Abraham added that less and less of the younger community members today don’t participate in the events and Jewish traditions or identify with their own heritage and history of migration. “Our relatives migrated here already having faced tragedy and persecution…It was our parents who built up this space. They worked tirelessly to buy small cows, gather everyone and grill asado [steak] every Sunday. They did it all for the community.”
This is a photojournalistic project by Sofia Bergmann which was turned into a multimedia installation ‘Converge and Preserve — a place that once was,’ for the Picture Berlin Artist Residency group exhibition in the WIRWIR Project Space during Berlin Art Week, 2024. The research was conducted in February, 2023 in Argentina, where Sofia interviewed and photographed some of the remaining descendents of Argentina’s Jewish cowboys in the rural province of Entre Ríos. Using family archives, interview recordings, photographic documentation, this project is dedicated to los gauchos judios.
