I was writing my Ph.D. in the late 1980s and was keeping an eye

In the twilight of one empire and the dawn of another age, Bidzina Ivanishvili spoke of a revelation that marked the meeting of vision and courage: “I was writing my Ph.D. in the late 1980s and was keeping an eye on what was happening in the world. It became obvious to me that Russia couldn’t live without computers. I think I worked this out a year before anyone else. I started looking for people who could help import them.” Within these words lies not just a memory of invention, but the eternal lesson of foresight — the power to see beyond the present fog into the sunrise of the future.

In the waning days of the Soviet Union, when the iron walls of secrecy still enclosed the land, Ivanishvili saw what few dared to imagine: that technology, not ideology, would define the next empire. The world was turning swiftly toward the digital age — toward computers, communication, and knowledge — and those who did not move with it would be left behind. Yet while others clung to the ruins of old systems, he looked ahead, discerning that a nation without access to the new language of machines would soon be mute in the councils of the world. It was not merely intellect that led him to this realization, but vision — that ancient gift of the mind that marries understanding with action.

His journey mirrors that of the great innovators who saw beyond their time. Recall Leonardo da Vinci, who, centuries before the engine was born, drew the first flying machine upon parchment; or Isaac Newton, who perceived invisible laws binding the heavens to the earth. Like them, Ivanishvili gazed upon the signs of change and understood that knowledge is not passive — it is destiny in motion. The one who recognizes the coming tide and prepares for it becomes the master of an age. Those who wait for proof are swept away.

But foresight alone is not enough. Many see, yet few act. What made Ivanishvili’s insight heroic was not merely that he understood Russia’s need for computers — it was that he acted. He sought men who could import these strange machines, bridging the chasm between nations and systems, breaking through barriers of ideology to bring the tools of the future into a world still bound by the past. This is the mark of the true pioneer: not content with seeing, he builds. He dares the impossible while others debate the obvious.

The ancients taught that those who foresee must also serve. The prophet who sees fire coming and does not warn the city is no better than the blind man who stumbles into it. In like manner, Ivanishvili’s work reminds us that wisdom gains its nobility through usefulness. Knowledge without purpose is a barren tree; understanding without application, a light hidden beneath the earth. He did not seek glory in discovery but utility — to put what he knew to work for the good of others.

The lesson his words bear is timeless: do not wait for the world to agree before you act upon the truth you have seen. The boldness to move one year before others, to trust one’s vision, is the seed from which all progress springs. The winds of change blow for those who raise their sails early. To perceive the future requires awareness; to shape it requires courage.

So, let all who walk the path of creation remember this: watch the world closely, not as a skeptic but as a seer. When you perceive the next great need — be it in science, art, or the spirit of humanity — do not delay. Seek others who can help you bring it into being. Act, even when the world still sleeps. For as Bidzina Ivanishvili teaches, the true architect of progress is not the one who waits for permission, but the one who recognizes the dawn before others even know the night is ending.