For Arab Israelis left out of tech jobs, a new code: Inclusion

When Wasim Abu Salem was a 14-year-old boy in Nazareth, he wanted to learn how to code more than anything. But there were no courses in his city, and he hardly knew anyone in the local Arab community who worked in computers. 

Today he’s 30, with a dual degree in computer science and law. And he’s the founder of Loop, a coding academy for youth, currently serving mostly Arab kids in Israel ages 7 to 18 – a program he created for the current generation since it had not existed for his.

He’s also the co-founder of Altooro, a new startup whose platform recruits and trains software developers. 

“I love the idea of creating something that provides value for people and solves problems,” says Mr. Abu Salem, sitting in a conference room in a shimmering high-rise in Tel Aviv.

The building, owned by Google, provides office space for early-stage startups. Upstairs there’s a roof-deck overlooking the city and a lounge with low couches and orange chairs.  

Mr. Abu Salem is one of a tiny minority of Israeli tech workers who are Arab citizens, according to government data just 2% of the celebrated tech sector that last year brought in a record investment of $25.6 billion, and one of an even more minute number who themselves have become entrepreneurs.

Taking a quick break in the lounge with him is Ahmad Gbele, 26, a senior software developer for Altooro who went on almost 50 interviews before finally breaking into the industry six years ago. 

“I didn't have the connections. I couldn't get referrals. I was not part of the ecosystem that came with being part of the tech community,” says Mr. Gbele.

Untapped resource

Israel prides itself on being referred to as “Start-up Nation,” but the high-tech engine fueling its economy has left behind the country’s largest minority: Palestinian Arab citizens who are 21% of the population. And this just as Israel faces a major shortage of computer engineers and other tech workers that may range as high as 6% of its tech workforce.

As elsewhere, connections matter in Israeli tech culture. News about jobs spreads through social and professional networks of Jewish Israelis, many of whom know each other from elite tech units of the army, military service that also gives them invaluable job experience before entering the civilian workforce.

That is beginning to change. One organization, called itworks, has brought 4,500 Arab workers into tech jobs since 2008. There have also been efforts to bring tech companies to Arab cities and towns, including by the Jewish-Arab run Tsofen organization, most of which are far from the greater Tel Aviv tech epicenter.

Notably, the budget recently passed by Israel’s inclusive new government includes $188 million for a five-year plan to add Arab engineers to the tech sector – in hopes of increasing the community’s standard of living and boosting coexistence in Israeli society as a whole.

Although the tech sector employs just under 10% of the Israeli workforce, it accounts for about 15% of the country’s GDP and 43% of exports. And sector jobs pay on average $98,000 a year, more than twice that in the economy as a whole. It’s a very big opportunity to miss out on. 

A bigger piece of the pie

Meanwhile changes are afoot in Arab society, which for decades has lived mostly apart from Jewish Israelis, both geographically and socially, and often was viewed with suspicion. Recently, however, Palestinian citizens of Israel have become increasingly integrated, economically and politically, and outspoken in demanding equal rights. 

It was Raam, the first Arab party in a government coalition, that demanded that funding for integrating Arabs into the tech economy be earmarked. A growing number of Arab university students are majoring in computer science and related fields, even though the community’s growing middle class has gravitated toward careers in more traditional fields, especially medicine, over what seems like the risky and less accessible tech sector.

And help is also coming from the entrepreneurial class.

“Companies just don't know how to integrate them,” says Ifat Baron, referring to Palestinian Israelis. She’s the founder of itworks, which connects companies and recent Arab graduates with tech degrees by breaking down some of the cultural and practical barriers they face.

Itworks sponsors trainings for aspiring Arab engineers, pairing their coding know-how with experience on projects to help overcome the competitive disadvantage of not having served in the army’s elite tech units. Itworks also helps improve participants’ English and Hebrew skills, and assists in resume writing and interview preparation.

Potential employers, too, are briefed on cultural differences. “In our day-to-day we Jewish Israelis don’t usually meet Arabs,” Ms. Baron says. 

Coming from a more traditional, hierarchical society, for example, can lead Arab candidates to downplay their own skills and ask fewer questions during interviews. 

Filling the demand

Lian Mansour, from Kaukab Abu El-Hija, an Arab village in the Galilee, is something of a cultural whisperer for itworks. She shepherds graduates as they job hunt, advising them on how to convey confidence and negotiate for a good salary, and checking in with companies for feedback after interviews.

“So many Arab graduates have the potential and the ability,” she says, but need support in order to even reach the interview stage. She’s seen graduates with top grades spend months trying to find work even though the industry is facing a looming crisis, with a fluctuating shortage of as many as 21,000 computer engineers.

Israeli companies have been outsourcing jobs to countries like Ukraine and Poland to meet the gap. 

Citing the billions of dollars invested in Israeli tech last year, Amir Mizroch, a communications adviser who works with Israeli technology companies and their investors, says, “It smashed all records by far, but companies cannot grow because they cannot hire. … So the question is: How do they grow and scale?

“In the short term they look to places like Ukraine, but long term, unless Israel manages to produce a broader base of tech talent, we will be overtaken by countries who have bigger populations and better education systems. That’s a problem.”

He bemoans that Israel has been overly reliant on what he calls the “narrow funnel” of the army as the main training ground and accelerator into tech. 

The Israel Innovation Authority has warned that without a surge in homegrown Israeli tech workers, “Israel's economy will reach a dead end and get stuck.”

Shifts in Arab culture

Sireen Nijeem Kayyal grew up as a student who excelled in math and science in a small Arab village near the northern seaside city of Acre. She stunned her parents when she rebuffed their plans for her to become a doctor, what they saw as the natural and socially acceptable choice for someone with her grades, and instead chose to major in engineering. At the time there were no other engineers in her village. 

Her father was so upset with her decision that he refused to attend her graduation from The Technion, Israel’s equivalent of M.I.T., in nearby Haifa. Her three siblings have all gone into medicine. 

“It became my challenge to prove to myself, my parents, my community that I could do this, that I could become part of Israel’s high-tech sector,” says Ms. Kayyal, now 30.

With mentoring from itworks she secured her first job and most recently a management position at a solar power firm. Her shares of stock in the company helped her and her husband buy an apartment. 

Her father, she says, is now proud of her success. 

Mr. Abu Salem, founder of the coding academy, says he thinks the pandemic has helped change the way Arab parents see their children’s possible future in the tech economy. 

“Parents started to understand the importance of technology, that it’s part of our lives,” he says. “And they started to hear about the high-tech scene and its opportunities, including potential positions and also how much money is there.

“So they started to encourage their kids to go and study computer science and related fields. There’s been a shift in the mindset.”

Marwa Igbaria is 25, from the northern Arab town of Umm al-Fahm. She’s grateful her parents were supportive of her when she left home to study computer science at Tel Aviv University. At the time, in her class of 500 in the computer science department, there were only 10 other Arab women.

Today she’s one of the only Arabs in the Tel Aviv start-up where she’s working as a front-end developer. At first, she says, she was apprehensive about being one of the only Arab employees.

“I thought: How will I cope? But they’ve welcomed me so well, I’ve become friends with my co-workers,” she says. “I feel like I’m working with family.”