CEO of "Hasalat": "We Lost Millions Due to the Complex Security Situation"

Eliezer Bert, CEO of "Hasalat," discusses the first insect-free lettuce, operating the plant under mortar fire, and the company's growth from the ruins.

(Photo illustration: Shutterstock)(Photo illustration: Shutterstock)
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When Eliezer Bert was expelled from the town of Kfar Darom in Gush Katif, not only did his own home remain behind, but also the vast "Hasalat" factory where he had worked as CEO for years. Along with them, the greenhouses that were the first in history to grow insect-free leafy greens were all dismantled. "I spent many sleepless nights," Bert recalls, "but a great responsibility toward the workers and many farmers rested on my shoulders, and together with the factory's managers, I knew we had to continue." 

 

Insect-Free Greens

The establishment of the factory, which was the first of its kind, was preceded by many processes. "It all started in the winter of 1989," Bert begins, who insists on citing only Hebrew dates. "Shimon Biton, an agronomist specializing in entomology, proposed to his friends from the town of Gadid the idea of growing insect-free leafy greens. At that time, the farmers of the bloc were cultivating a variety of tomato strains for export, achieving great success and even winning international awards. The notion of kosher leafy greens seemed far from reality, and no one wanted to allocate part of their land for the experimental cultivation." 

During that period, leafy greens rarely made it to the table in many homes. "In our home," says Bert, "my wife would cook the leafy greens in a pot, filter the cooking water through a cloth, and only then add them to the Shabbat soup. Before Passover, we would meticulously check lettuce leaves to fulfill the commandment of eating bitter herbs properly, and this was one of the only times of the year the greens reached our mouths."

But the question marks did not deter Biton, who was confident of his success. "The farmers told him to come in the summer when the greenhouses were empty of crops, and that's exactly what he did. The experimental lettuces were placed in a greenhouse tightly sealed with a net of maximum hole density, preventing most insects from entering. The greenhouse had a double door to prevent insect entry and a range of technologies were implemented, including treatments and sprays, to maintain exceptional cleanliness. As the growth process neared its end, the excitement peaked - the lettuce was carefully checked and found to be truly insect-free."

However, this was not the end of the complex process. "The farmers brought their produce to the Torah and Land Institute, which was operating in its early years in Gush Katif," Bert, who also worked there at the time, describes, "and the institute's rabbis informed them that it was a complex halachic situation. Lettuce was then a vegetable considered infested with worms, requiring checking of all 8,000 heads of lettuce in the greenhouse. A sample inspection, which would suffice for other vegetables not presumed infested, like cucumbers and squash, was insufficient." 

(Photo: Shutterstock)(Photo: Shutterstock)

To resolve the problem, the institute's rabbis visited leading poskim (legal decisors). "We reached Rabbi Elyashiv, Rabbi Ovadia Yosef, Rabbi Mordechai Eliyahu, and others. Rabbi Kamintzky, the bloc's rabbi, proposed a solution to redefine lettuce as a non-infested vegetable. This was a complex halachic precedent – removing lettuce’s presumption of infestation. Monitors were introduced to the greenhouses, ensuring each pest was tracked and eliminated, thus confirming all the lettuces were clean. We demonstrated our insect management methods and presented Rabbi Kamintzky's solution, which received their full endorsement."

The media storm following the discovery was swift. "I still remember a newspaper headline: 'Gush Katif Farmers Invent a New Lettuce," Bert recalls with a smile. "Of course, we didn't invent a new lettuce, we just provided it with different conditions, but the fact that observant Jews could finally eat leafy greens was very exciting."

 

New Lettuce

Yet the journey didn't end there. "Now we had to market the lettuce. Back then, farmers couldn't sell directly to stores; all produce went through the wholesale market," Bert recalls. "We reached the Tel Aviv wholesale market, placed several hundred heads of lettuce on a stall, and given our substantial publicity, we expected a rush. In reality - not a single head of lettuce was sold. There was no observant public nearby, and traders passing by saw no reason to invest in lettuce priced 50% higher than regular. Hours later, the market's kosher supervisor bought one carton, and that concluded the day's sale."

What could you do?

"We began reloading the produce back into the van and realized we needed direct access to the observant community. By the end of that day, we visited stores in Bnei Brak and Petah Tikva, leaving several crates of lettuce at each location. We offered them the chance to sell the product, assuring them we wouldn't charge for unsold produce. Residents of these cities, who heard about the innovation, were delighted to find the revolutionary product near their homes and were keen to purchase it. Thus, we began directly marketing merchandise to stores, unlike the norms of those years. The news gradually spread, and the lettuces started selling in larger quantities."

A year later, a small packing house was established in Kfar Darom. "The settlement was somewhat remote from other bloc settlements, housing only a few dozen families living on a rather small plot. We wanted to strengthen the settlement by establishing the factory, and indeed there was a refreshing influx. Factory workers arrived daily at the small settlement, and truck drivers traveled the roads to load produce and distribute it nationwide. Greenhouses were set up in the settlement's agricultural areas, and crops spread throughout the bloc. Over time, the greenhouses covered hundreds of dunams full of leafy greens. The business grew exponentially year by year, and in 1997, we moved to a large new building. Our produce reached the entire country, with some exported abroad. At some point, we established another plant for cut and washed vegetables like sliced cabbage and carrots. The entire bloc flourished with its crops, as did we."

(Photo: Abed Rahim Khatib / Flash90)(Photo: Abed Rahim Khatib / Flash90)

If we may pause for a moment and ask – what about the spraying of leafy greens?

"We quickly realized that pesticide residues were a concern for everyone. It's important to clarify a few points. There are two significant aspects to spraying – when and with what substance. Regarding timing, we try to spray the vegetables early in their growth so they are free from pesticide residues when harvested after 50 days. About spraying substances, we adhere to modern agricultural standards, which is easier said than done. Every farmer would like to spray extensively to prevent insects from being found on their produce, as even a small infestation can void the entire shipment. However, they must comply with regulations, a challenging balance for them, but no compromises are allowed. Four years ago, for example, a large farmer working with us grew tons of dill. His worker mistakenly used parsley spray on the dill, rendering the entire shipment unmarketable. It was excellent dill, but it didn't meet the pesticide residue standards, leaving us without dill in the factory for three months. As there is kosher certification on the package, there is also certification for sprays, and our obligation to it prevented us from releasing that dill to market."

 

The Right Side of the Green Line

Several years after establishing the "Hasalat" factory, a new and unique challenge emerged related to its location. "Five very difficult years began, with road shootings and constant mortars," Bert describes. "We would finish loading the trucks with goods, but then the roads were closed due to a security event, and the trucks couldn't leave. We often lost valuable produce, incurring financial damages amounting to millions due to the complex security situation we lived under."

Despite this, there was never a thought of relocating the factory to a quieter place. "It was clear to us that we were on the right side of the Green Line, where the mitzvah of settling the Land of Israel is performed in a more splendid manner. We knew we were in Gush Katif to settle the Land of Israel in areas where the challenge is greater, and we never contemplated relinquishing that privilege."

Not long after, the announcement of the expulsion came, indicating the destruction of all that good. "For a year and a half, we fought with all our might, demonstrating, talking, doing everything in our power. As the date approached, we began receiving phone calls at the factory from clients, showing sympathy for our situation but also informing us they were switching to other leafy vegetable suppliers. Our decision to keep the factory in its place and not move it outside the bloc began to take its toll. We never regretted it, but our produce distribution was severely affected, and we faced a significant financial complexity. Yet we persisted with all our strength until the expulsion day."

On Av 11, 5765, the residents of Kfar Darom were uprooted from their homes and moved to a hotel in Beersheba. "We woke up in the morning, the sun was shining as usual, but our hearts were dark," describes Bert. Still, there was little time to rest. "The factory quickly moved to a temporary location in Sderot. It was an old, inactive packing house we had to refurbish to rebuild the factory. In selfless dedication, all the workers, from various places in the country where they were expelled, arrived, working day and night shifts to dismantle old equipment and establish production lines anew. Three and a half months later, we resumed very limited operations. The first leafy greens marketed were the last ones harvested from the bloc. Concurrently, the dismantled bloc greenhouses began reconstruction in new locations."

Economically, how did the company survive all this?

"We received large credit from various banks that knew our strength, and mainly, we saw great siyata dishmaya (Divine assistance). We only received money from the state much later, and overall, the establishment didn't make our lives easy. For example, when we resumed operations, representatives from the Ministry of Health arrived, stating we needed their approval to market products. They already knew us from Kfar Darom, but insisted we undergo the full bureaucratic process again. They treated us as a new company, not as people struggling to rebuild. The same representatives never set foot in Kfar Darom, even when assured we would provide them with an armored minibus and military escort. While there, we had to pay a private entity to supervise and send them reports, only thus receiving the necessary approvals."

Twelve years after rebuilding, the company moved to a large new plant near Netivot. In memory of those days, and with a clear belief in Israel's eventual return to its homeland, the company's packages still bear the logo "Ali Katif - Kfar Darom." The company's members, residents of Gush Katif, who witnessed the miracle of leaf growth from the sands, believe that Israel's return to those sands will indeed happen."

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