I Changed Military Training With One Story. Can You Do The Same?
“Prometheus stole fire from the gods and gave it to man. For this, he was chained to a rock and tortured for eternity.”
That’s the opening caption of Oppenheimer. Christopher Nolan could have opened with a quote about physics or patriotism, but instead he chose a 3,000-year-old-myth and revealed something deeper: Oppenheimer is another iteration of a story that refuses to die. Myths like Prometheus endure because we keep retelling them. They carry essential knowledge that demands preservation, elevating their purpose far beyond mere entertainment. Three decades ago, I applied this insight to redesign the training model at a major Israeli military center. That experience set the course for the rest of my professional life.
Teaching a class or delivering a presentation often feels like a talent reserved for a confident few. But when we strip it down to the fact it’s all simply storytelling, it is far more approachable for everyone.
Stories are often taken at face value—meant to entertain, affirm beliefs, or challenge our worldview. But some stories act as capsules for knowledge, carrying vital information across generations. Long before written language, Aboriginal Australians used songlines to navigate the continent’s vast terrain. Passover is built around storytelling rituals that preserve Jewish memory and identity. And in West Africa, Griots (oral historians, poets, and musicians) function as living libraries, transmitting history, law, and cultural values through performance. Knowledge delivered with stories is remarkably resilient, its power proven by surviving across centuries. When I first developed what later became known as The Knowledge Chain, I realized something crucial: it’s not just the story that matters—it’s who tells it.
In modern society, storytelling has largely been handed over to professionals (marketers, filmmakers, journalists, and educators), each using it for a specific purpose. We, the audience, turn to films when we want to be entertained, follow leaders who can inspire us with a compelling vision, and learn from teachers who transform even the driest material into something that sparks curiosity and excitement. Storytelling, once an instinctive human practice, has become a hard skill—taught, measured, and fine-tuned across industries, from branding and politics to classrooms and boardrooms. But in outsourcing storytelling to professionals, we may be weakening our collective ability to preserve and transmit essential knowledge, like the myth of Prometheus.
The military is one example of an organization that depends on professionals to handle specialized training. Experts are usually brought in to teach subjects like weapons, tactics, and military history. A military unit’s commander has a limited role in such training: making sure the soldiers show up, maintain discipline, and keep them attentive. Commanders are not expected to have the same depth of knowledge or teaching skills as the subject-matter experts. The same occurs in most medium to large organizations, where employees are trained by a dedicated training department (or left to learn on their own), while day-to-day management falls to direct supervisors. When I analyzed this arrangement through the lens of the soldier-commander relationship, it became evident that depending on outside instructors can create an emotional gap (and even resentment) between the soldiers and their leaders. Over time, this gap can develop into a real problem.
Hierarchy is essential for maintaining order and ensuring that teams function smoothly (both in the military and in civilian companies). In the military, soldiers follow commands from their direct superiors, who themselves answer to higher-ranking officers. A commander’s authority is traditionally viewed as a function of rank and experience—but in reality, the kind of authority required in combat goes much deeper than titles or insignia. It’s built on trust: the kind that compels a soldier to act without hesitation, confident in their leader’s judgment and motives. That level of trust has to be earned. While employees in a typical workplace aren’t asked to risk their lives for their managers, they are also expected to place trust in their leadership. It was within the gap between soldiers and their commanders that I saw a unique opportunity: what if the commanders led the training themselves? Could the advantages of establishing direct knowledge, authority, and trust outweigh the disadvantages of having an instructor who lacks polished presentation skills? Is it possible to transform even a tough, unrefined commander into a compelling storyteller—one capable of effectively sharing knowledge and achieving a Prometheus-like impact?
The Knowledge Chain
If we were to visualize the current model of education and training, it would resemble a bicycle wheel—with the teacher at the hub, distributing knowledge outward to surrounding students. In a meeting with high ranking military officers, I suggested an alternative model: a chain, where each link serves as both teacher and learner, passing information along while receiving it in turn. I argued that the knowledge chain mirrors the way information has been passed down through generations—through storytelling. Surprisingly, I wasn’t shown the door. The truth is, few people are fully satisfied with how education and training are handled, whether in schools, corporations, or even the military. Senior officers agreed with the importance of building trust and authority by involving commanders directly in training, but they raised a valid concern: could someone without formal training still deliver critical information effectively? We decided to find out.
Fast forward to Israel’s Independence Day, 2000. I stood in my ceremonial uniform as the President of Israel awarded me, along with a group of fellow soldiers, a mark of excellence for innovation in training. The answers to all our earlier questions had become a clear and resounding yes. We successfully transformed tough 20-year-old sergeants and junior officers into capable and impactful trainers. We even redefined the role of specialized instructors, positioning them as mentors who supported commanders through one-on-one coaching. We had replicated the Prometheus effect—bridging the gap between soldiers and their leaders. This was reflected in soldier feedback forms, where they evaluated their commanders. When I eventually left the military, I did so with full confidence that the Knowledge Chain is a model that can be applied across any organization seeking to strengthen teams, empower young leaders, and boost employee engagement and retention.
Decades later, I’ve come to understand that the Knowledge Chain is firmly grounded in scientific principles. Not only did it help commanders deliver content more effectively, it also improved their own learning. Studies comparing college students who learned traditionally with those who had to teach the material to others have consistently shown that teaching enhances understanding—known as "learning by teaching.” Commanders held another key advantage over traditional instructors: they knew their audience intimately. Often, it had only been a few months since they themselves had been sitting in those same seats. This familiarity allowed them to use relatable examples, speak the same language as their audience, and connect on a deeper level, leading to greater engagement and long-lasting impact. Soldiers were noticeably more invested when their own commanders (rather than external experts) led the training. What’s more, the learning didn’t end when the lesson did. The relationship between commanders and soldiers allowed training to continue informally, creating a dynamic, ongoing process of teaching and learning.
The Future of Learning and Development
Teaching a class or delivering a presentation often feels like a talent reserved for a confident few who were born with natural charisma, or those who’ve spent years honing their skills. But when we strip it down to the fact it’s all simply storytelling, it is far more approachable for everyone. Storytelling has been a part of our lives since childhood. We’ve all grown up hearing and sharing stories, so we’re already connected to a long Knowledge Chain. Whether it’s through cultural traditions like Día de los Muertos in Mexico or tales told around a campfire, these rituals serve to pass down values, knowledge, and wisdom from one generation to the next. Now, it’s time to harness that same powerful tradition in organizations that are looking for better ways to train and empower their people.
How to Implement the Knowledge Chain in Your Organization:
- Embrace Learning as a Core Responsibility
The concept of lifelong learning is familiar to everyone, but putting it into practice requires a bold step: make training a part of every employee's role. This won't always be welcomed—some employees may resist the idea of becoming trainers.
- Reframe Training as Storytelling
Shift the perception of training from formal instruction to something more familiar: storytelling. Take inspiration from the Prometheus metaphor. When you encounter a hesitant employee, ask them to share a story from their childhood. Everyone has a unique way of expressing their experiences, especially when tied to emotion (whether it’s a joyful memory, a proud achievement, or even a moment of failure). Emotional connections are where storytelling (and training) becomes most powerful.
- Provide Ongoing Support
Offer structured support from the beginning. Whether it’s through an internal training team or external expert, guidance on training methods and planning is essential. Without it, employees may feel unprepared and as though they’ve been set up to fail. At first, more hand-holding might be required, but over time (as confidence and skills develop) momentum will build and the benefits of the Knowledge Chain will become increasingly visible.
- Create Space for Failure
Mistakes are a natural and necessary part of growth, so normalize them. Set a tone by openly sharing your own missteps, not just your victories. Encourage your team to do the same so they can learn, adapt, and improve. By making failure part of the learning culture, you foster resilience and continuous development.