Start-up Nation

between these two worlds. He only wishes that the kind of military experience he had was as common in the American business world as it is among Israeli entrepreneurs.

“The military gets you at a young age and teaches you that when you are in charge of something, you are responsible for everything that happens . . . and everything that does not happen,” Lowry told us. “The phrase ‘It was not my fault’ does not exist in the military culture.” This comment sounds a lot like Farhi’s point from chapter 2 about company commanders taking ownership of whatever happens in their territory. “No college experience disciplines you to think like that . . . with high stakes and intense pressure,” says Lowry, a graduate of Princeton. “When you are under that kind of pressure, at that age, it forces you to think three or four chess moves ahead . . . with everything you do . . . on the battlefield . . . and in business.”

The Marine Corps network is important to Lowry. His military peers are a built-in board of advisers for him. “It’s another world of friendships, outside of work, but many of them are connected to my line of work,” he notes. “Just the other day I spoke with one fellow officer who is in management at Raytheon, based in Abu Dhabi. Many of these guys I’ve known anywhere from five years to twenty-five years.”

The military is also much better than college for inculcating young leaders with a sense of what he calls social range: “The people you are serving with come from all walks of life; the military is this great purely merit-based institution in our society. Learning how to deal with anybody—wherever they come from—is something that I leverage today in business when dealing with my suppliers and customers.”

If all this sounds similar to our description of the IDF’s role in fostering Israel’s entrepreneurial culture, it should. While a majority of Israeli entrepreneurs were profoundly influenced by their stint in the IDF, a military background is hardly common in Silicon Valley or widespread in the senior echelons of corporate America.

As Israeli entrepreneur Jon Medved—who has sold several start-ups to large American companies—told us, “When it comes to U.S. military resumes, Silicon Valley is illiterate. It’s a shame. What a waste of the kick-ass leadership talent coming out of Iraq and Afghanistan. The American business world doesn’t quite know what to do with them.”¹¹

This gulf between business and the military is symptomatic of a wider divide between America’s military and civilian communities, which was identified by the leadership of West Point over a decade ago. In the summer of 1998, Lieutenant General Daniel Christman, the superintendent of West Point, and General John Abizaid, commandant at West Point, were driving on the New Jersey turnpike and pulled off at a roadside food and gas station mall for a quick meal at Denny’s. Despite the clearly visible stars on their Class B green army uniforms, the hostess smiled and enthusiastically expressed her gratitude to Generals Christman and Abizaid for the cleanliness of the public parks. She thought they were staff of the parks department.¹²

Despite the military leadership’s outreach, too few young Americans today feel any connection to their contemporaries in the military, let alone have actually ever known one who has served. Even after two new war fronts, today only 1 in 221 Americans are in active-duty service. Compare that to the end of the Second World War, when 1 in 10 Americans were serving. Tom Brokaw, author of The Greatest Generation, told us that after World War II a young man who had not served would have a hard time getting a good job in business. “There must be something wrong with him” was how Brokaw characterized a typical reaction of employers back then to nonvets looking for private-sector jobs.¹³

But the way David Lipsky describes it, when the draft ended in 1975, after the Vietnam War, an opposite climate began to settle in: “Civilian culture and military culture shook hands, exchanged phone numbers, and started to lose track of each other.”

The economic implications of this drift were driven home to us by Al Chase, who runs an executive recruitment firm focused on the placement of U.S. military officers in private enterprises ranging from small start-ups to large Fortune 100 companies such as PepsiCo and GE. Having placed hundreds of vets, he knows what kind of entrepreneurial acumen is formed by battlefield experience. According to Chase, the Cold War military was different. Young officers could go an entire career without acquiring real battlefield experience. But the Iraq and Afghanistan wars have changed that. Almost every young officer has served multiple tours.¹⁴

As we’ve seen firsthand in Iraq, the post-9/11 wars have largely been counterinsurgencies, where critical decisions have been made by junior commanders. General David Petraeus’s counterinsurgency strategy in Iraq, for example, was predicated on U.S. troops’ not just being present and patrolling local Iraqi residential neighborhoods in order to provide security for Iraqi civilians but actually living in the neighborhoods. This is different from the way most U.S. military troops have fought in earlier wars, including in the early years of the Iraq war. Back then, U.S. soldiers and marines lived in forward operating bases (FOBs), enormous self-contained complexes that roughly replicate bases back in the States. A typical FOB could house tens of thousands of troops—if not more. But the soldiers and marines in neighborhood bases in