The truth is, you cannot run a political campaign like a tech

Brianna Wu, warrior of both the digital realm and the political stage, once proclaimed: “The truth is, you cannot run a political campaign like a tech startup. Technology is a field that fetishizes disruption. The old ways are suspect, and we place an almost irrational trust on new tools. That’s fine for developing games, but it was a failing playbook for politics.” In these words, she unveils the eternal divide between the world of invention and the world of governance, between the restless hunger for change and the enduring need for stability.

Her declaration speaks first of the nature of technology, a realm where the new is worshiped and the old discarded. In the house of invention, tradition is often seen as a chain, and the word “disruption” is sung as a hymn. Startups thrive by breaking rules, by replacing established ways with untested but daring innovations. There, failure is not fatal but expected, a stepping stone on the road to success. In such a culture, the new tool is trusted before it is proven, and the risk of collapse is embraced as the price of progress.

But politics is of another nature. It is not the arena of unbridled experimentation, but of trust, community, and continuity. People place their lives, their livelihoods, and their children’s future into the hands of leaders. In such a realm, reckless “disruption” is no virtue, but a danger. Wu reminds us that the old ways, the rituals of campaigns, the rhythms of speeches, the trust built through face-to-face meetings, cannot be swept aside by the promise of algorithms and apps. For politics is not about novelty, but about faith; not about tools, but about the hearts of people.

History bears witness to this truth. Consider the French Revolution, born of fiery ideas and the thirst for radical change. Its leaders sought to discard the entire past and rebuild society on reason alone. In their zeal for disruption, they replaced monarchy with chaos, faith with fear, and tradition with blood. What began as a promise of liberty dissolved into the Reign of Terror. Here is the warning Wu speaks of: in matters of governance, to despise the old ways entirely and to trust blindly in the new is to risk destruction. Disruption without patience, without wisdom, is ruin.

And yet, her words do not dismiss technology altogether. She concedes that in the building of games, in the crafting of tools, the fever for innovation is fitting. There, experimentation is the lifeblood; there, failure is a lesson and not a death. It is not technology itself that is flawed, but the belief that its restless spirit can be transplanted without care into every field. Wu calls us to discernment: to recognize where disruption is fruitful, and where it endangers the very fabric of human trust.

The lesson for us, O seekers, is profound. Do not mistake one realm’s virtue for another’s. Use technology as a servant, not as a master. Honor tradition in politics, in community, in relationships, for these are places where trust is fragile and must be tended carefully. But in art, invention, and creation, allow disruption its rightful place, for there it may bear fruit. Wisdom lies in knowing when to preserve and when to overturn, when to build upon the old and when to break new ground.

Therefore, let Brianna Wu’s words be a guide. In your own life, ask always: am I in the realm of politics, where trust and patience rule, or in the realm of technology, where daring and disruption thrive? Do not confuse the two, lest you fail. Build carefully where lives and faith are at stake; innovate boldly where risk brings growth. For the wise man knows that not all fields are the same, and that the greatest strength lies not in blind disruption, but in the balance of innovation with responsibility. Thus shall your works endure, and your legacy be both bold and steadfast.