Race on the Scaffolding

Back in 1997, my boss and I were touring the sight of my first real project. We watched an Arab worker use a wheel barrow to move supplies up the ramps of the rather rickety scaffolding. He wore sandals and no hard hat and routinely hit his head on one of the cross beams. In broken Arabic, my boss tried giving instructions to make things safer; but to no avail. The worker only shrugged his shoulders and said ‘InshAllah’ – a common, fatalistic acceptance of God’s will.

Following that scene, my boss waxed nostalgic of the glory years of Israeli architecture before 1967. When man-power was dear, architects and contractors relied on advanced building techniques, and budgets were met by working well and effectively.

But the 1967 Six-day war made available a plethora of cheap, unskilled labor that in the view of many, set Israeli architecture back 30 years.

On another site, the contractor was the son of Jewish refugees from Libya. He grew up speaking Arabic at home. As a young man he worked in construction. He proudly recalled figuring out how to cast the complex multi-parabolic canopy of the bus stop at the entrance to Hebrew University’s Givat Ram Campus. He too waxed nostalgic for the glory years of Jewish labor, but was convinced no Jew would ever work construction again.

Thus, I entered a world where we often designed down, to make the project buildable with unskilled labor. The lack of skill extended to many contractors themselves whose only qualification would be putting together a team of workers and getting them across the border. Whenever political strife would cause a shut down at the border crossings, the construction industry would grind to a halt. And on top of everything else, there were ethical questions about political situations we couldn’t control and labor standards we possibly should have.

Over the years I watched as Arab team leaders, became contractors in their own right. After a few lucrative projects, these contractors became developers. Arabs with Israeli citizenship found themselves in an enviable position. At home in both languages and on both sides of the fence (to varying degrees, I’m sure) they now participate in all aspects of the construction industry.

I’ve worked with top-notch Arab engineers, architects, developers and the legal counsel representing them. The building supplies industry is dominated by Arab run corporations, often with cross-border ties. (I know of one electric supply manufacturer located deep in PA controlled Hebron that has special security clearance allowing their trucks to pass through border points unchecked.) Cranes, fleets of cement trucks and other heavy equipment all bear Arab names.

Why do I care? For two reasons. First, I was uncomfortable with the ethnic stratification I witnessed as a young architect. Second, having begun my career as a carpenter, I am troubled to think that blue-collar jobs are anathema to young Israelis. Today I am cautiously optimistic that the free market is balancing itself out. Today’s building sites are vastly improved from those at the turn of the Century. Safety, while costly, is shunned less. Advanced materials and techniques are embraced, not avoided. And with an increasing need for skilled labor, many Israelis are finding their way back into the field.

All this comes to mind during the period of the High Holidays, a time when friends and colleagues make sure to inundate their contact lists with blessings for a prosperous New Year. As I reply to the Shanna Tova and G’mar Chatima Tova messages of Mohammad, Maher, Khaled and others (who probably received Ramadan Karim messages from me), I have to wonder how many of my peers truly appreciate the melting pot that the Israeli construction industry can be.