What Keeps our Soldiers Motivated?

Popular lecturer and author Doron Kornbluth shares his impression of Lubavitch visitors who came to lift the spirits of IDF soldiers up and down Eretz Yisroel and the direct impact it had on their morale.

By Doron Kornbluth

Hundreds of thousands of young men and women from all over Israel – and from all types of backgrounds – are (still!) giving their all to protect their country, its citizens, and Western civilization itself. They are sacrificing their freedom, their comforts, and their safety – for us. How do they stay motivated? Where do they find the inspiration?

It is well-known that motivation is crucial to military success. Indeed, it is often the single greatest determinant of victory… or defeat. We’re seeing this in the Ukraine. And we’re seeing it in Israel. Still, what exactly is military motivation? 

This question has been asked for millennia. Almost 2,500 years ago, Greek general Xenophon spoke of the “force of the soul” needed to convince his soldiers to withstand a much larger enemy force during a campaign in Asia. Explaining the American debacle in Vietnam, David Halberstam wrote that “McNamara’s statistical calculations were useless, because they took no account of the fact that although the ratio was 10:1 in the South Vietnamese army’s favor, this was meaningless because the one was willing to fight, while the 10 were unwilling.” Researchers like Kellet, Oetting, and others explain military motivation as a combination of many factors including group cohesion, esprit de corps, moral clarity, efficiency of force, a sense of responsibility & sacrifice, training, notions regarding a war’s legitimacy, hope of victory, and many other factors. Of course, there is no one formula explaining how soldiers stay motivated. All of these factors play a role in all militaries, including the IDF, and especially in the current war. 

Over the last months, however, I’ve noticed something else that keeps popping up. It is somewhat unique and deserves special mention. This factor is, at least in my view, vastly underappreciated. I’ve seen evidence of it too many times to ignore. Let me explain.

My buddies Shaya G., Rabbi Yossy G., and a group of supporters of Chabad on Campus (an incredible international Jewish educational and social organization) – mostly successful businessmen from the U.S. – have been to Israel numerous times since Oct.7, and I’ve been privileged to join them. In the early months of fighting, they started out paying for and attending barbeques for the soldiers on the Gaza border. They would flip hamburgers, give hugs and say thank you to these heroic young people who were risking their lives to protect us all. When the need became clear, they (and thousands of other amazing Jews and non-Jews around the world) raised money to support IDF widows and orphans, send food to soldiers, replace faulty or missing equipment (shh….it’s a secret…), attended rallies, lobbied politicians, prayed, and did whatever they could to help the good guys (the IDF) defeat the bad guys (Iran-backed Hamas and Hezbollah terrorists).

Interestingly, over time, the visits became more… personal. We saw that the soldiers appreciated the food – a lot! – but it wasn’t about the food. Despite their exhaustion, these young men and women wanted to speak with us. With broken Hebrew and broken English, and occasionally with my translation services, everyone somehow managed to communicate. There was a pattern to the conversations:

• “You came from America? To visit us?!” they asked with a huge smile. (I have personally heard this question hundreds of times.) 
• “Thank you for coming! We haven’t seen anyone from abroad for so long…”
• “Why do so many people in America support Hamas?!”
• “Are the Jews safe in America? We’ll protect you here!”

On one visit to the Gaza envelope, we visited the Nova massacre site and other (in)famous locations, but spent most of our time simply visiting soldiers at army bases and anywhere we found them. Bringing them snacks. Saying thank you. Giving them hugs. One day, we were running behind schedule and arrived at the Kerem Shalom crossing (at the Southwest corner of Israel, bordering both Egypt and Gaza) at twilight. The crossing had already closed for the day. There were no signs or IDF forces indicating otherwise, so we got quite close to the crossing itself. The soldiers stationed there were surprised to see us. Their commander thought we were trying to cross into Gaza or coming to protest, and so he quickly walked to our vehicles and politely (but sternly) explained that we could go no further. In response, we opened the trunks to our cars and brought out snacks and cold drinks, which we promptly handed out to him and his soldiers (who were, as it turned out, both Jewish and Bedouin Muslim Arab citizens of Israel). Their response was unforgettable: They started singing. They’d been stationed there for weeks with hardly any “normal” human interaction. We danced together. In the desert. At the border. With their full gear. It was surreal: we brought them food – and love. We were there for a total of perhaps 25 or 30 minutes. It was as happy a half-hour as anyone could remember. 

A few days later, in the North (while it was still permitted), Shaya G. drove relatively close to the Lebanese border. Four soldiers in a jeep stopped him, asking, “How did you get here? What are you doing here? NO ONE comes here!” He responded simply, “Well, YOU’RE here – I’m just coming to visit you!” Their appreciation was so heartfelt that he later said it was one of the most meaningful moments of his life. 

What started as barbeques developed into visits with snacks and shmoozing – and real human interaction. Whenever possible, we weren’t just “dropping goodies” (though that is also WONDERFUL!). We sat down and spoke with the soldiers. We asked where they were from, what their hopes and dreams were, how they were managing their time in the war. I heard time and time again from young soldiers how much it meant to them that a middle-aged American businessman would come to Israel and sit down and speak with them about their lives. One wounded soldier we met in Tel HaShomer made such an impression that my buddies brought him to New York for two weeks to recuperate, recover and receive some communal love. A young female soldier explained that visitors from America – both Jewish and non-Jewish – reminded her this wasn’t just a fight about borders, land and nationalism, but rather this was a global fight of good vs evil – and the visitors made her realize how proud she was to be a Jew, an Israeli, and a citizen of the West. 

Of course, the IDF needs support (thank you, America!), equipment, training, unit cohesion, good leadership – and all the other factors that every army needs to stay motivated. 

Still, I’ve noticed that there is one more thing it needs: You. 

We’re all in this together. Hezbollah – which is now attacking Israel from the North – was targeting Americans yesterday (unfortunately, with too much success) and will again tomorrow (they say so openly. Hopefully, with no success). Israel has never asked for – and will never accept American boots on the ground. Instead, these young Israelis – mostly Jews but also including many thousands of young Druze, Muslim, and Christian citizens of Israel – are fighting our fight. 

It is a fight for the survival of Israel. 

It is a fight for the survival of freedom. 

It is a fight for the survival of Western civilization. 

And it might be a long fight. These young Israelis – of all backgrounds – need our support. Aside from your financial, political and moral support – which are all so, so important – I encourage you to come to Israel. Visit the soldiers. Give them snacks. Even more importantly, sit with them and speak with them. Show them love and appreciation. 

In particular, there are thousands of wounded Israeli soldiers in Tel Hashomer and other Israeli hospitals. Many of these young people will be living with disabilities for the rest of their lives. Your visits are not simply a “nice thing to do”. They are, literally, life-changing. For the soldiers – and for the visitors. 

These young people are doing so much for Israel, the Jewish people, and the West. 

Visiting them in their hospital rooms and on the front lines may well be the most important thing we can do for them – and for ourselves.

Doron Kornbluth is a bestselling author and renowned international speaker.