Start-up Nation

by Dan Senor, Saul Singer

  Though Israel’s largest company, Teva, is in pharmaceuticals, as are Compugen and a number of new Israeli companies, the more crowded field for Israeli start-ups is that of medical devices, many of them related to drug delivery. This field seems to nicely fit the Israeli penchant for multidisciplinary thinking, as well as Israelis’ characteristic lack of patience—since drugs take so long to develop.

  One such mashup-based company is Aespironics, which has developed an inhaler the size and shape of a credit card that includes a breath-powered wind turbine. The problem with many inhalers is that they are tricky and expensive to manufacture. A way must be found to release the drug effectively through a wire mesh. In addition, this process must be timed perfectly with the breath of the patient to maximize and regulate the drug’s absorption in the lungs.

  Aespironics seems to have solved all these problems at once. Inside the “credit card” is a fanlike propeller that is powered by the flow of air when the patient inhales from the edge of the card. As the propeller turns, it brushes against a mesh with the drug on it, thereby knocking the drug off the mesh and into the air flow in a measured manner. Since the propeller works only when the user inhales, it automatically propels the drug into the patient’s lungs.

  Putting this together required an unorthodox combination of engineering skills. In addition to experts on inhalers, Aespironics’ team includes Dan Adler, whose specialty is designing gas turbines and jet engines. He was a professor at the Technion and at the U.S. Naval Graduate School and a consultant to such companies as General Dynamics, Pratt & Whitney, and McDonnell Douglas.

  Mixing missiles and pills, jets and inhalers may seem strange enough, but the true mashup champion may be Yossi Gross. Born in Israel and trained in aeronautical engineering at the Technion, Gross worked at Israel Aircraft Industries for seven years before leaving to pursue more entrepreneurial endeavors.

  Ruti Alon of Pitango Venture Capital, which has invested in six of Gross’s seventeen start-ups, argues that his multidisciplinary approach is the key to his success. “He has training in aeronautical engineering and electronics. He also knows a lot about physics, flow, and hemodynamics, and these things can be very helpful when thinking about devices that need to be implanted in the human body.” Plus, Alon reminded, “he knows a lot of doctors.”5

  Some of Gross’s companies combine such wildly diverse technologies that they border on science fiction. Beta-O2, for example, is a start-up working on an implantable “bioreactor” to replace the defective pancreas in diabetes patients. Diabetics suffer from a disorder that causes their beta cells to cease producing insulin. Transplanted beta cells could do the trick, but even if the body didn’t reject them, they cannot survive without a supply of oxygen.

  Gross’s solution was to create a self-contained micro-environment that includes oxygen-producing algae from the geysers of Yellowstone Park. Since the algae need light to survive, a fiber-optic light source is included in the pacemaker-sized device. The beta cells consume oxygen and produce carbon dioxide; the algae does just the opposite, creating a self-contained miniature ecosystem. The whole bioreactor is designed to be implanted under the skin in a fifteen-minute outpatient procedure and replaced once a year.

  Combining geothermal algae, fiber optics, and beta cells to treat diabetes is typical of Gross’s cross-technology approach. Another of his start-ups, TransPharma Medical, combines two different innovations: using radio frequency (RF) pulses to create temporary microchannels through the skin, and the first powder patch ever developed. “It’s a small device,” Gross explains, “like a cell phone, that you apply to the skin for one second. It creates RF cell ablation, hundreds of microchannels in the skin. Then we apply on top a powder patch, not a regular patch. Most patches out there are gel- or adhesive-based. We print the drug on the patch, and it’s dry. When we apply the patch to the skin, the interstitial fluid comes out slowly from the microchannels and pulls the lyophilized [freeze-dried] powder from the patch under the skin.”

  Gross claims that this device solves one of the most intractable problems of drug delivery: how to get large molecules, such as proteins, through the outer layer of the skin without an injection. The first products will deliver human growth hormone and a drug for osteoporosis; patches to deliver insulin and other drugs, hormones, and molecules—most of them currently delivered by injections—are in the works.

  The Israeli penchant for technological mashups is more than a curiosity; it is a cultural mark that lies at the heart of what makes Israel so innovative. It is a product of the multidisciplinary backgrounds that Israelis often obtain by combining their military and civilian experiences. But it is also a way of thinking that produces particularly creative solutions and potentially opens up new industries and “disruptive” advances in technology. It is a form of free thinking that is hard to imagine in less free or more culturally rigid societies, including some that superficially seem to be on the cutting edge of commercial development.

  CHAPTER 13

  The Sheikh’s Dilemma

  The future of the region is going to depend on our teaching our young people how to go out and create companies.

  —FADI GHANDOUR

  EREL MARGALIT’S BACKGROUND would not normally predict a future in venture capital. He was born on a kibbutz, fought in Lebanon in 1982 as an IDF soldier, studied math and philosophy at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, and then pursued a doctorate in philosophy at Columbia University. He wrote his dissertation on the attributes of historical leaders—he thinks of them as “entrepreneurial leaders”—who profoundly affected the development of their nations or even civilizations (he profiled Winston Churchill and David Ben-Gurion, among others, as exemplars).

  Along the way, he went to work for Teddy Kollek, the mayor of Jerusalem from 1965 to 1993. Shortly before Kollek was defeated in the 1993 municipal election, Margalit pitched an idea to help encourage start-ups in Jerusalem, which, then as now, was struggling to keep young people from leaving for nearby Tel Aviv, Israel’s vibrant business capital. With Kollek gone, Margalit decided to implement his plan himself, but in the private sector. He called his new venture capital fund Jerusalem Venture Partners (JVP). It was seed-funded with capital from the Yozma program.

  Since he founded JVP, in 1994, Margalit has raised hundreds of millions of dollars from France Telecom SA, Germany’s Infineon Technologies AG, as well as Reuters, Boeing, Columbia University, MIT, and the Singapore government, to name a few sources. He has backed dozens of companies, many of which have held public offerings (IPOs) or been sold to international players, producing windfall returns. JVP was behind PowerDsine, Fundtech, and Jacada, all currently listed on the NASDAQ. One of its big hits was Chromatis Networks, an optical networking company, which was sold to Lucent for $4.5 billion.

  In 2007, Forbes ranked Margalit sixty-ninth on its Midas List of “the world’s best venture capitalists.” He is among three Israelis on this top one hundred list, which is populated mostly by Americans.

  But Margalit’s contribution to Israel goes beyond business. He is investing huge sums of his personal fortune—and entrepreneurial know-how—to revitalize Jerusalem’s arts scene. He launched the Maabada, the Jerusalem Performing Arts Lab, which is leading in the exploration of the link between technology and art, and is colocating artists and technologists side by side in a way not done anywhere else in the world.

  Next door to the nonprofit theater he founded, which was built in an abandoned warehouse, Margalit has converted a printing house into the headquarters for a burgeoning animation company, Animation Lab, which aims to compete with Pixar and others in the production of full-length animated films.

  Jerusalem might seem like the last place to build a world-class movie studio. As a center for the three monotheist religions, the ancient city of Jerusalem is about as different from Hollywood as one could imagine. Filmmaking is not an Israeli specialty, though Israeli movies have recently been prominently featured in international film festi
vals. Further complicating matters is the fact that the Israeli arts scene is centered in secular Tel Aviv, rather than Jerusalem, known more for holy sites, tourists, and government offices. But Margalit’s vision for creating companies, jobs, industries, and creative outlets was specifically a vision for Jerusalem.

  This cultural commitment can be central to the success of economic clusters, of which Israel’s high-tech industry is a case in point. A cluster, as described by the author of the concept, Harvard Business School professor Michael Porter, is a unique model for economic development because it’s based on “geographic concentrations” of interconnected institutions—businesses, government agencies, universities—in a specific field.1 Clusters produce exponential growth for their communities because people living and working within the cluster are in some way connected to each other.

  An example, according to Porter, is northern California’s “wine cluster,” which is populated by hundreds of wineries and thousands of independent grape growers. There are also suppliers of grape stock, manufacturers of irrigation and harvesting equipment, producers of barrels, and designers of bottle labels, not to mention an entire local media industry, with winery advertising firms and wine trade publications. The University of California at Davis, also near this area, has a world-renowned viticulture and oenology program. The Wine Institute is just south, in San Francisco, and the California legislature, in nearby Sacramento, has special committees dealing with the wine industry. Similar community structures exist around the world: in Italy’s fashion cluster, Boston’s biotech cluster, Hollywood’s movie cluster, New York City’s Wall Street cluster, and northern California’s technology cluster.

  Porter argues that an intense concentration of people working in and talking about the same industry provides companies with better access to employees, suppliers, and specialized information. A cluster does not exist only in the workplace; it is part of the fabric of daily life, involving interaction among peers at the local coffee shop, when picking up kids from school, and at church. Community connections become industry connections, and vice versa.

  As Porter says, “the social glue” that binds a cluster together also facilitates access to critical information. A cluster, he notes, must be built around “personal relationships, face-to-face contact, a sense of common interest, and ‘insider’ status.” This sounds just like what Yossi Vardi described: in Israel “everybody knows everybody, and there is a very high degree of transparency.”

  Margalit would point out that Israel has just the right mix of conditions to produce a cluster of this kind—and that’s rare. After all, attempts to create clusters don’t always succeed. Take, for example, Dubai. Searching for a Dubai equivalent of Erel Margalit, one thinks of Mohammed Al Gergawi. Al Gergawi is the chairman and chief executive of Dubai Holding, one of the larger businesses owned by Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum, the ruler of Dubai (and also the prime minister and defense minister of the United Arab Emirates). For all intents and purposes, Sheikh Mohammed is the chairman of “Dubai Inc.” There is no distinction between Dubai’s public finances and the sheikh’s private wealth.

  Al Gergawi’s leap to prominence came in 1997 when he went to meet Sheikh Mohammed in the majlis, a forum for average citizens to come to see the sheikh—think of it as the Arab world’s version of a town hall meeting, only far less interactive. During the visit, Sheikh Mohammed pointed out Al Gergawi and declared, “I know you and you’ll go far.”2

  It turns out that Al Gergawi, then a midlevel government bureaucrat, had been identified months earlier by one of Sheikh Mohammed’s “mystery shoppers,” whose job it is to scour the kingdom for potential business leaders. Soon after the majlis meeting, Al Gergawi was put on an accelerated path to management of one of the sheikh’s three major companies. Others within Dubai’s government told us that Al Gergawi was selected because he was regarded as a competent technocrat—he could execute extremely well but would not challenge the ruler’s vision.

  Dubai’s economic system is based largely on patronage, which has kept the local citizens pliant (only 15 percent of Dubai’s 1.4 million residents are actually Emirati citizens). Like Singapore, it is an extremely orderly society, and there are no outlets for protest—even peaceful ones—against the government. Many of the founders of Dubai’s first human rights organization are also employed by the government and are dependent on Sheikh Mohammed’s largesse.

  Freedom of speech is constitutionally “guaranteed,” but it does not cover criticism of the government or anything deemed offensive to Islam. When it comes to government transparency, especially as it relates to the economy, the trend is moving in the wrong direction. A new media law makes tarnishing the UAE’s reputation or economy a crime punishable by fines of up to 1 million dirhams (approximately $270,000). The government maintains a list of banned Web sites; the ban is enforced by state censorship of the Internet (users do not dial directly into the Web but go through a proxy server monitored by the state telecom monopoly). In compliance with the Arab League boycott, neither visitors nor residents can call Israel from landlines or cell phones—the 972 country code is blocked.

  Sheikh Mohammed recently decreed that his twenty-five-year-old son, Sheikh Hamdan, would be crown prince; a younger son and a brother were named as his two deputies. There is no path for an Emirati equivalent of Erel Margalit to play a senior leadership role in government or run for office. Mohammed Al Gergawi himself is one of only 210,000 Emiratis in the entire country, and only people from this limited pool are eligible to serve in senior government positions or in leadership roles in the sheikh’s businesses.

  Other than its official leadership circles, Dubai is open to outsiders for business and has a centuries-old history as a trade hub for everything from pearls to textiles. Sheikh Mohammed’s great-grandfather declared his city-state a tax-free port in the early part of the twentieth century. He wanted to attract Iranian and Indian merchants.

  In the 1970s, Sheikh Mohammed’s father, Rashid bin Saeed Al Maktoum, ordered the dredging of the Dubai Creek and built one of the planet’s largest man-made harbors at Jebel Ali, twenty-two miles southwest of Dubai. By 1979, the Jebel Ali Port had become the Middle East’s largest port and, according to some experts, ranked alongside the Great Wall of China and the Hoover Dam as the only three man-made constructions that can be seen from space. Jebel Ali is now the world’s third-most-important reexport center (after Hong Kong and Singapore).

  For Rashid, this liberal trade outlook was based on the reality that Dubai’s economic wellspring would eventually dry up. With only .5 percent of the oil and gas reserves of neighboring Abu Dhabi, and an even tinier fraction of Saudi Arabia’s, Dubai’s reserves could run out as soon as 2010. As Sheikh Rashid once famously said, “My grandfather rode a camel, my father rode a camel, I drive a Mercedes, my son drives a Land Rover, his son will drive a Land Rover, but his son will ride a camel.”

  In addition to creating a world-class port, Sheikh Rashid also established the Middle East’s first free-trade zone, which allowed foreigners to repatriate 100 percent of their capital and profits and allowed 100 percent foreign ownership of properties and businesses. This sidestepped the requirement in the UAE and much of the Arab world that all companies be majority-owned by a local national.

  The royal family’s next generation—led by Sheikh Mohammed—took the free-zone model even further, with the creation of business parks dedicated to specific industrial sectors. The first of these was Dubai Internet City (DIC), designed with the help of Arthur Andersen and McKinsey & Company.

  DIC provided an ideal base for any technology company doing business in the Middle East, the Indian subcontinent, Africa, or the former Soviet republics—collectively a potential market of 1.8 billion people with a total GDP of $1.6 trillion. In no time 180 companies signed up as tenants, including Microsoft, Oracle, HP, IBM, Compaq, Dell, Siemens, Canon, Logica, and Sony Ericsson.

  In one sense, DIC was a remarkable success: by 2006, one
-quarter of the world’s top five hundred companies had a presence in Dubai. Dubai then tried to replicate that success story, founding Dubai Healthcare City, Dubai Biotechnology and Research Park, Dubai Industrial City, Dubai Knowledge Village, Dubai Studio City, and Dubai Media City (where Reuters, CNN, Sony, Bertelsmann, CNBC, MBC, Arabian Radio Network, and other media companies all have a major presence).

  DIC’s director of marketing, Wadi Ahmed, a British citizen of Arab origin, explains, “We have made Porter’s [cluster] theory a reality. If you bring all the companies from the same segment together . . . opportunities materialize. It’s real-life networking. It is bringing the integrator together with the software developers. Our cluster includes six hundred companies working within two kilometers of each other. . . . Silicon Valley has some similarities but it is an area, not a single managed entity.”3

  It is true that Dubai had at first posted impressive growth rates and that it turned itself into an important commercial hub in a short time. But there was never any comparability between the number of start-ups in Israel and in Dubai, or the amount of venture capital Dubai has been able to attract compared to Israel, not to mention the number of new inventions and patents. So what makes Israel and Dubai different in this way?

  Drill down a bit into what is going on in Dubai’s Internet City, for example, and the answer begins to emerge. In DIC you will not find any R&D or new innovation-based companies. Dubai opened its doors to innovative global companies, and many have come. But they have come to spread innovations made elsewhere to a particular regional market. Dubai, therefore, has not created any thriving innovative clusters; rather, it has built large, successful service hubs. So when Mohammed Al Gergawi was handpicked by Sheikh Mohammed to help catalyze Dubai’s economic miracle, the job was to grow and manage this exciting, but not necessarily innovation-generating, venture.