We have been working hard to think about what our combined needs

“We have been working hard to think about what our combined needs are going to be in the way of intelligence capabilities, not today but 15 to 20 years in the future.” Thus spoke Stephen Cambone, a figure of deep contemplation within the halls of American defense and strategy, whose mind was turned not toward the battles of the present, but toward the wars yet unseen, the conflicts still unborn. His words echo a wisdom both ancient and enduring: that the wise man does not build only for the moment, but for the ages. In these words lies a visionary’s burden—to see beyond the dust of today and prepare for the storms of tomorrow.

For intelligence, in Cambone’s world, is not the gathering of secrets alone; it is the art of foresight, the discipline of perceiving change before it comes. His words were spoken in an age of shifting powers, when technology and war were transforming faster than empires could comprehend. To think “15 to 20 years in the future” was not merely a bureaucratic exercise—it was an act of strategic imagination, a quest to anticipate the shape of the world when today’s certainties have crumbled. Cambone’s insight reminds us that every civilization that endures must learn this art of looking ahead, lest it be swept aside by the unforeseen.

The ancients knew this truth well. Sun Tzu, the great general-philosopher of China, taught that “the victorious warrior wins first and then goes to war,” for he has foreseen every possibility before a single arrow is loosed. Likewise, the builders of the Great Wall did not construct it for the threats of their own generation alone, but for the waves of invasion they knew would come after them. Their strength lay not only in stone and mortar, but in the wisdom of anticipation. Cambone’s words are born of this same lineage—the understanding that to lead, one must dwell partly in the future’s shadow, preparing for dangers invisible to those content with the present’s comfort.

And yet, Cambone speaks not only of the state, but of human nature itself. For every individual, like every nation, must confront the question: Am I living only for today, or am I preparing for what tomorrow demands of me? To think ahead, to shape one’s own capabilities before they are tested, is the essence of growth and survival. The farmer tills his soil in autumn so that he might eat in spring; the scholar studies long before his wisdom is needed. Likewise, the seeker of truth must cultivate intellectual foresight—the strength to see beyond immediate desires into the unfolding horizon of consequence.

Consider the tale of Winston Churchill, who in the years before the Second World War cried out in warning as Europe slumbered. He saw, with painful clarity, the storm gathering over the continent—the rise of tyranny, the rearmament of an enemy, the complacency of democracies drunk on peace. Few listened. Yet when the fire came, it was his foresight that saved nations. Churchill, like Cambone, embodied the rare spirit that looks beyond comfort into the coming century, understanding that to plan for the future is an act of both intellect and courage. For it demands the will to confront truths others would rather ignore.

Cambone’s words also remind us of a subtle and perilous truth: power that fails to foresee becomes power that fails to endure. History is littered with empires that gazed only upon the present—the Romans, who ignored the decay within their legions; the Ottomans, who clung to the old ways as the world industrialized; and countless others who mistook stability for permanence. Intelligence, in its truest form, is not about gathering secrets of the enemy, but about understanding the inevitable flow of change. The wise ruler, the wise citizen, and the wise soul alike must learn to read the signs of the time before those signs become disasters.

Therefore, O seeker of wisdom, take from this teaching a sacred charge: become an architect of foresight. Do not live chained to the urgency of the day; lift your gaze toward the horizon. In your work, your craft, your heart—plan not for what you need now, but for what the world will require of you when time has passed. Build your capabilities, strengthen your understanding, and imagine boldly. For the future, though unseen, belongs to those who prepare for it with patience and vision.

Let this be your discipline: to think not in hours, but in decades; not in transactions, but in transformations. As Cambone sought to shape the intelligence of a nation for generations to come, so must you seek to shape the intelligence of your own soul—to become wise before wisdom is demanded, ready before destiny calls. For in every era, it is foresight, not force, that guards the light of civilization—and it is those who see beyond today who ensure that tomorrow still has a dawn.