Unemployment among Palestinian graduates in the West Bank nears 40%
Leila Warah
Nearly 40% of Palestinian college and university graduates in the West Bank are unemployed, a crisis worsened by Israel's suspension of work permits since October 2023 and a stagnant local economy. Many graduates, even those with advanced degrees, are forced into low-skill jobs or emigration, raising deep questions about the value of education under occupation.
Bethlehem, occupied West Bank – Amid the beat of drums and the sound of cheers at Bethlehem University's hall, final-year students excitedly complete their graduation projects. But beneath the festive surface, a quiet anxiety looms.
Siwar Abu Kamal, 21, entered university with a clear plan: get a degree, find a job, build a life. Now, as she prepares to graduate in business administration, that plan feels more fragile than ever. “The older I get, the more shocking reality becomes,” she told Al Jazeera.
For decades, education was seen as one of the few paths to stability, dignity and advancement for Palestinians living under occupation. Yet many new graduates say that promise is crumbling.
Nearly 40% of young Palestinians in the West Bank who hold at least a college or university degree are unemployed, according to data from the Palestinian Economic Policy Research Institute (MAS). Overall, the unemployment rate has more than doubled since October 2023, peaking at 35.2% in early 2024 and remaining at 27.5% in late 2024. When Israel began its war in Gaza, it also indefinitely suspended the work permits of 115,000 Palestinians from the West Bank who worked in Israel. Only a few permits were renewed, deepening the unemployment crisis.
“We see people around the world finding jobs and living their best lives while we are stuck,” said Christy Abu Mahour, Siwar's 21-year-old classmate. “We don’t have the same opportunities as others.”
For these students, graduation means not only overcoming academic pressure but also confronting military raids, road closures, and classes shifting online whenever conflict escalates. Many work to cover tuition as financial pressure mounts. “Why do I have to study in the end?” asked Khaled Abu Aishah, a final-year communications student. “Am I studying in order not to have a job?”
It is a question Enass Elias, the school's academic and career advisor, hears increasingly. “These students have dedicated themselves to learning, and now they are at a stage where they ask: what do I want from a degree? Psychologically, they are exhausted,” Elias said.
An economy unable to absorb graduates
Each year, Palestinian universities produce tens of thousands of graduates, but the local economy has not grown enough to meet job demand. Salsabyl Salama, 25, graduated in physiotherapy in 2023. After five years of study and internships, she could only find a job in her field through a four-month UNRWA program at a refugee camp in Bethlehem. Now she works as a cashier at a supermarket. “That’s not what I dreamed of,” she said, “but it allows me to be independent.”
Elias said that whenever a hospital announces two vacancies, 60-70 graduates compete. Many employers demand experience, shutting out newcomers. Public sector jobs, once seen as stable, have also become precarious. Since 2021, the Palestinian Authority has struggled to pay salaries because Israel withholds most Palestinian tax revenues, especially after October 2023. By mid-2025, public sector workers had accumulated billions of dollars in unpaid wages, according to the World Bank.
A slow brain drain of Palestinian talent
Maher Canawati, a former mayor of Bethlehem, said the crisis is driving many Palestinians to leave the country. “We see doctors working in restaurants, architects struggling, nurses looking for jobs everywhere,” he said. “All the graduates just want a normal life, a decent job and a good future for themselves and their families.”
Over the years, many Palestinians turned to work across the “Green Line” – the boundary between Israel and the West Bank – as an alternative, with Israeli companies paying low wages for manual labour. “Even before the war, many workers in Israel were actually doctors, nurses, architects who chose construction because the income was higher,” Canawati said.
MAS said that decades of dependence on employment in Israel have made the Palestinian economy too weak to absorb graduates, and “turned Palestinian workers into ‘political hostages’, tying their livelihoods to Israel’s volatile security calculations.” At present, about 1,080 people with at least a master's degree have left Bethlehem governorate in the past three years. “All the brainpower is leaving,” Canawati said. “They get the exit papers and leave Palestine without the people who could build the economy, build the country.”
For those who stay, abandoning their field of study is sometimes the only option. Salsabyl is taking a pastry-making course alongside her cashier job, an effort to find a new direction. “I started losing hope, but hope has returned,” she said. At Bethlehem University, Elias always tries to encourage students: “This degree is your weapon and your passport. Nobody knows what will happen.”
Meanwhile, graduation ceremonies continue with drumming and cheering. “There is happiness here,” Siwar said. “We hold on to hope because everyone deserves joy.”