Frohman had long tried to cultivate a culture of disagreement and debate at Intel Israel, and he had hoped this ethos would infect Santa Clara. “The goal of a leader,” he said, “should be to maximize resistance—in the sense of encouraging disagreement and dissent. When an organization is in crisis, lack of resistance can itself be a big problem. It can mean that the change you are trying to create isn’t radical enough . . . or that the opposition has gone underground. If you aren’t even aware that the people in the organization disagree with you, then you are in trouble.”
In time, the Israelis outlasted—and outargued—their U.S. supervisors. Each time the Israelis showed up, they had better research and better data, one Intel executive recalled. Soon they had a seemingly bulletproof case as to where the industry was heading. Intel could either lead in that direction, the Israelis told management, or become obsolete.
Finally, this time as CEO, Otellini changed his mind. It had become impossible to counter the Israelis’ overwhelming research—not to mention their persistence. In March 2003, the new chip—code-named Banias after a natural spring in Israel’s north—was released as the Centrino chip for laptops. Its clock speed was only a bit more than half of the reigning 2.8 gigahertz Pentium chips for desktops, and it sold for more than twice the price. But it gave laptop users the portability and speed they needed.
The switch to the Israeli-designed approach came to be known in Intel and the industry as the “right turn,” since it was a sharp change in approach from simply going for higher and higher clock speeds without regard to heat output or power needs. Intel began to apply the “right turn” paradigm not just to chips for laptops but to chips for desktops, as well. Looking back, the striking thing about Intel Israel’s campaign for the new architecture was that the engineers were really just doing their jobs. They cared about the future of the whole company; the fight wasn’t about winning a battle within Intel, it was about winning the war with the competition.
As a result, the new Israeli-designed architecture, once derided within the company, was a runaway hit. It became the anchor of Intel’s 13 percent sales growth from 2003 to 2005. But Intel was not clear of industry threats yet. Despite the initial success, by 2006, new competition caused Intel’s market share to plummet to its lowest point in eleven years. Profits soon plunged 42 percent as the company cut prices to retain its dominant position.15
The bright spot in 2006, however, came in late July when Otellini unveiled the Core 2 Duo chips, Intel’s successors to the Pentium. The Core Duo chips applied Israel’s “right turn” concept plus another Israeli development, called dual-core processing, that sped chips up even further. “These are the best microprocessors we’ve ever designed, the best we’ve ever built,’’ he told an audience of five hundred in a festive tent at Intel’s Santa Clara headquarters. “This is not just incremental change; it’s a revolutionary leap.” Screens lit up with images of the proud engineers behind the new chip; they were joining the celebration via satellite, from Haifa, Israel. Though Intel’s stock was down 19 percent over the whole year, it jumped 16 percent after the July announcement. Intel went on to release forty new processors over a one-hundred-day period, most of them based on the Israeli team’s design.
“It’s unbelievable that, just a few years ago, we were designing something that no one wanted,” says Friedman, who is still based in Haifa but now leads development teams for Intel around the world. “Now we’re doing processors that should carry most of Intel’s revenue—we can’t screw up.”
What began as an isolated outpost an ocean away had become Intel’s lifeline. As Doug Freedman, an analyst for American Technology Research, put it, the Israeli team “saved the company.” Had midlevel developers in the Haifa plant not challenged their corporate superiors, Intel’s global position today would be much diminished.
Intel Israel’s search for a way around the power wall also produced another dividend. We don’t think of computers as using a lot of electricity—we leave them on all the time—but, collectively, they do. Intel’s ecotechnology executive, John Skinner, calculated the amount of power that Intel’s chips would have used if the company had kept developing them in the same way, rather than making the “right turn” toward the Israeli team’s low-power design: a saving of 20 terawatt hours of electricity over a two-and-a-half-year period. That’s the amount of power it would take to run over 22 million 100-watt bulbs for an entire year, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Skinner noted, “We calculated about a $2 billion savings in electricity costs. . . . It’s equivalent to a small number of coal-fired power plants or taking a few million cars off the road. . . . We’re very proud that we are dramatically reducing the carbon dioxide footprint of our own company.”16
The significance of the Intel Israel story is not, however, just that the team in Haifa came up with a revolutionary solution that turned the company around. A good idea alone could not have carried the day against a seemingly intransigent management team. There had to be willingness to take on higher authorities, rather than simply following directives from the top. Where does this impudence come from?
Dadi Perlmutter recalls the shock of an American colleague when he witnessed Israeli corporate culture for the first time. “When we all emerged [from our meeting], red faced after shouting, he asked me what was wrong. I told him, ‘Nothing. We reached some good conclusions.’ ”
That kind of heated debate is anathema in other business cultures, but for Israelis it’s often seen as the best way to sort through a problem. “If you can get past the initial bruise to the ego,” one American investor in Israeli start-ups told us, “it’s immensely liberating. You rarely see people talk behind anybody’s back in Israeli companies. You always know where you stand with everyone. It does cut back on the time wasted on bullshit.”
Perlmutter later moved to Santa Clara and became Intel’s executive vice president in charge of mobile computing. His division produces nearly half of the company’s revenues. He says, “When I go back to Israel, it’s like going back to the old culture of Intel. It’s easier in a country where politeness gets less of a premium.”
The cultural differences between Israel and the United States are actually so great that Intel started running “cross-cultural seminars” to bridge them. “After living in the U.S. for five years, I can say that the interesting thing about Israelis is the culture. Israelis do not have a very disciplined culture. From the age of zero we are educated to challenge the obvious, ask questions, debate everything, innovate,” says Mooly Eden, who ran these seminars.
As a result, he adds, “it’s more complicated to manage five Israelis than fifty Americans because [the Israelis] will challenge you all the time—starting with ‘Why are you my manager; why am I not your manager?’ ”17
CHAPTER 2
Battlefield Entrepreneurs