Two days ago, the San Francisco Standard published an article quoting me that I’ve noticed receiving significant attention on campus. The article — and some of my quotes — make the argument that there is a trend among Stanford students to pursue a “military tech gold rush.” 

Let me be clear: I was not making a political statement, nor am I advocating for any one party or ideology. I know my views won’t resonate with everyone — and that’s okay. I appreciate the thoughtful discussions and even the criticism.

Let me also set the record straight. I am not passionate about starting wars. Full stop. I am committed to preventing the next one. And I deeply believe that if we fail to integrate cutting-edge technology into national security, we won’t deter the next war — we’ll invite it.

Political scientist and Stanford professor Francis Fukuyama once wrote about the end of history. But history hasn’t ended. We live in a world where war is no abstraction: Ukraine, the Middle East and the looming tensions over Taiwan remind us of that every day. And our national leaders sometimes act in ways that do not align with what I see as American values or interests. I participated in the San Francisco Standard’s article not to spread fear or alarmism, but rather to highlight a simple message: For those of you interested in national security, the nation needs you more than ever. For those of you who are not, that is valid. But I urge you to embrace this idea: in politics, there is a saying — “If you’re not at the table, you’re on the menu.”

Headlines claim that we follow the money, that we succumb to the memetic forces behind venture capital, that the new Stanford students want to sell drones instead of code. Call me a naive optimist, but I think we want more. We tackle messy problems head-on — including the messiest of them all: international security.

The vibe shift referenced in the San Francisco Standard article is one of pursuing a mission over money, not war over peace. Making money and following a mission is not a dichotomy — and to be frank, pursuing a mission without the need for financial stability is a privilege in itself. At Stanford, we have the power to make our mission an intrinsic part of our lives. And here’s the truth: the best missions, the hardest problems, are the messiest.

Many Stanford students are skeptical of national security. Many are not. In the last four years, conflict in Ukraine, Israel and Gaza has shown us just how personal international security can be. For every success, there are as many failures built into much of our national security and defense regime. This disagreement isn’t just okay — it’s necessary. We should have doubts, but we should also approach these topics with nuance. The conversations around the ethics of national security are shaping a generation of new leaders who will bring complex perspectives to the table. That is the kind of country I want.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge my own concerns about the ethics of the defense sector. It’s the reason why I’ve focused on cybersecurity during my time at Stanford. The thought of my decisions leading to lives lost terrifies me. But these same concerns extend to almost every field pushing the boundaries of innovation. Generative AI has the capacity to manipulate a person into harming themselves. Bioengineered diseases can create pandemics that permanently alter our lives. Every problem worth tackling is filled with complexity and messiness. That’s why it is all the more important that we approach them with the critical thinking and nuance that a Stanford education has equipped us with.

I have moral and effective friends who work at nonprofits like Teach for America. I have moral and effective friends who work at Facebook. I also have moral and effective friends who work at Palantir, Anduril and McKinsey. Making better national security decisions starts with having the best possible people in the room.

The answer isn’t to avoid national security — it’s to better understand it. It’s not about going to war. It’s about defending and strengthening democracy.

And if my political science degree has taught me anything, it is that defending democracy is messy. And we often don’t get it right. The answer to messy situations isn’t ignoring them; it’s learning how to navigate them wisely. I look to professors Stephen Kotkin and Condoleezza Rice’s “Global Futures” class, which reminds me to analyze the world through structures and institutions: systems evolve at different speeds, and all our actions have perverse and unintended consequences.

Yes, more and more students are engaging with national security. But many students are not. That diversity of thought is a beautiful thing. Kyla Guru ’25 and I started Women in National Security with the mission to understand national defense as more than just weaponry.

While most of my background has been in cybersecurity, I am deeply aware that every national security decision affects lives. This is not something I take lightly. When lives are at stake, we need the most dedicated, innovative, creative and critical minds in the room.

For me, those people are often Stanford students.

In a world of memetic software engineers, I sometimes fear we risk becoming the menu items for the game changers around us. Here’s the bottom line: don’t be a menu item. Use the power and privilege of your education to find a mission worth fighting for, and take your seat at the table.