“All we can do is make sure that technology becomes the ally and protector of peace, that we build better shields rather than sharper and more deadly swords. In so doing, maybe we can help to bring an end to the brutal legacy of modern warfare. We can stop the madness from continuing into the next century.” [1]
—Ronald Reagan, 1988
One ad from my childhood has always stood out in my mind for some reason: Arnold Schwarzenegger in full military uniform, promoting a mobile war game called “Mobile Strike.” He looks straight at the camera, and while pressing a bright red launch button on his phone, insists, “The best defense… is defense.” It’s a catchy line — bold, aggressive, and, in the context of a video game, kind of funny. But when you step back and think about that logic playing out in real life, it doesn’t feel as harmless. In fact, it lines up almost perfectly with a broader shift I’ve noticed in American culture and the economy.
One of the biggest changes in the American economy over the past few decades doesn’t make headlines, but it’s there: the military-industrial complex just keeps expanding. From 1977 to 2010, US investment in total national defense ballooned from $357 billion to $718 billion. [2] Just recently, Palantir, arguably one of the biggest and most successful of these companies, signed a $10 billion contract with the US Army. [3] As a computer engineering student here at BYU, I see this relationship up close. Many of my classmates are chasing internships with the big defense contractors, and who can blame them? The pay is great, the work looks exciting, and there’s a sense you’re doing something important for your country. It all seems patriotic and practical. My concern and position, however, is that our growing dependence on this system will only continue to crank up global tensions and drag us closer, not further, to international conflict.
You can trace this mindset back to Sputnik. The space race kicked off a new era for the growth of technology, pivoting most space exploration progress to becoming a manner of war. Suddenly, Americans were all-in on federal tech investment in defense. Data illustrates that the defense industry’s share of federal R&D funding shot up from about 20% in 1963 to over 50% within five years, topping out at around 70% in the ensuing decades. [4] Money poured into research universities, government labs, and, of course, private contractors. National security and technological innovation became inseparable. [4] From this fusion of innovation and security grew the very thing that President Eisenhower famously cautioned against in his presidential farewell speech: a military-industrial complex in which defense agencies, private contractors, and lawmakers become dangerously intertwined. [5]
This intimate relationship between Congress, defense contractors, and defense agencies is commonly referred to as the “Iron Triangle.” Defense agencies ask for contracts and funding. Congress signs off, happy for the jobs and economic boost back home for their constituents. [2] [9] Private companies get those contracts, then turn around and invest in lobbying and more research. The machine runs itself. In some ways, it takes the pressure off agencies like NASA and DARPA, letting private firms shoulder risk and development. But it also locks in economic incentives that make constant defense expansion seem inevitable.
Today, companies like Raytheon, Palantir, and L3 Harris are right at the center of defense innovation. [6] [7] They build missiles, surveillance systems, AI platforms, and battlefield networks. They recruit engineering students, including plenty from BYU, promising them real impact, big paychecks, and the satisfaction of serving the country. For many students, it’s an easy and reassuring call. They can be part of the positive change that the world desperately needs.
But here’s where things get messy. When the US pours money into AI-enabled defense, other countries race to keep up. Each side insists it’s just trying to keep the peace by staying strong. But real deterrence only works if the threat is real. Suddenly, it’s not clear whether we’re building shields or sharpening swords anymore. They start to look the same.
Economics just makes it even messier. Whole regions depend on defense contracts for jobs [8] [9]. That means cutting military spending isn’t just a policy choice, it’s a political risk. Lawmakers don’t want to pull funding that keeps people employed. Universities chase defense grants. Engineers follow the money. The cycle continues, not just because of danger overseas, but because the incentives are baked into our system.
I’m not saying we don’t need national defense. I’m proud to be American, and I believe in protecting what we have. I also can’t deny the incredible technologies that have come out of defense research, like the internet, GPS, and medical breakthroughs. My problem is with imbalance. When most progress gets framed as a race to build better weapons, we start living in a state of permanent readiness for conflict. Reagan’s words from 1988 still challenge us: Are we building technology to defend peace, or just getting ready for the next fight?
In 1988, Reagan pushed us to rethink where we’re headed. He wanted technology to stand as “the ally and protector of peace,” not just as a tool for building sharper swords. Real security doesn’t come from racing past every competitor; it comes from building trust, encouraging transparency, working together, and yes, keeping up with innovation. If we keep judging technological leadership by who has the biggest arsenal, we end up feeding the very tensions we’re trying to avoid. [10] [11]
As a computer engineering student, I feel this tension deeply. My classmates and I are learning to work with artificial intelligence, cybersecurity, and advanced hardware — these skills carry real weight. With those skills, we, along with anyone else growing up in this age of rapid technological acceleration, can defend, attack, heal, or hurt. The paths we choose, the industries we help grow, will shape the world’s balance of power for years to come.
If we keep tying progress to military might, we’re setting ourselves up for a new kind of Cold War, one played out with algorithms, data, and autonomous machines, not just missiles. But we have a choice. If we point our creativity toward stability, conflict prevention, and real global cooperation, maybe we can finally build the shields Reagan talked about instead of just sharpening our swords.