“We already had a number of struggles inside the company over the transfer of strategic technologies and critical products to the Israeli operation,” recalled Frohman. “I was convinced that if we had to interrupt production, even for a brief period of time, we would pay a serious price over the long term.” Frohman had expended time and political capital to persuade Intel’s management to put the future of the company in the hands of an overseas outpost, a dream of his since he’d first left Intel. And it was this outpost that was about to find itself on the receiving end of Scud missiles.
But Frohman had another—surprisingly far greater—concern: “I kept thinking about the survival of Israel’s . . . still small high-tech economy.” The key stumbling block to further investment in Israel was the lingering impression of geopolitical instability in the region. If Intel couldn’t operate in an emergency situation, then any confidence that multinationals, investors, or the markets had in Israel’s stability would instantly crumble.
Frohman had spent enough time abroad to be familiar with the rap against investing in Israel. Almost every day a bad headline about Israel ricocheted around the world: another terrorist attack . . . another provocation on its border . . . more bloodshed. Intifada. Violence, terror, war. It was the only narrative people knew.
He believed that both Israel and its economy needed a counternarrative. As the January 15 deadline approached, he became fixated
on an imaginary boardroom debate—taking place somewhere in the United States—between an executive who was enthusiastic about
investing in Israel and a cautious board that thought he was reckless. What would the enthusiast need in his back pocket?
On January 17, Frohman informed his employees of his unilateral decision to keep Intel Israel open during the war, in defiance of government orders, but on a voluntary basis: no worker would be punished for not showing up.
At 2:00
At 3:30
The executives in Intel’s Santa Clara headquarters could not get their heads around this. During a conference call with Santa Clara two days later, air-raid sirens went off again. The Israeli team members asked for a moment to relocate, put on their gas masks, and continued the call from their sealed room. A group of Intel workers even set up a wartime kindergarten on the premises, since schools were still closed and if employees wanted to be part of Frohman’s defiant mission, they had no choice but to bring their children to work. On top of their regular jobs, the workers volunteered to serve shifts on kindergarten duty.