The ESL Way: A Cold War Playbook for Modern Defence

Drift Signal #251

In 1964, mathematician William Perry left his job at a major defence contractor to start a company that would revolutionise warfare. His venture, ESL Incorporated, pioneered the digitalisation of signals intelligence by combining commercial computers with classified military needs.

While this story may seem like ancient history, it holds crucial lessons for today's defence technology landscape—particularly in Europe, where the war in Ukraine, started by Russia three years ago, has exposed critical gaps as well as potential breakthroughs in military innovation capabilities.

ESL's approach—bringing together academic research, commercial technology, and defence requirements—created a template for bridging civilian innovation and military needs that remains relevant six decades later. As Europe grapples with building independent defence capabilities in an era of rapid technological change, Perry's forgotten company offers vital insights into procurement reform, institutional adaptation, and the strategic advantage of properly harnessing civilian innovation.

I’m grateful to Steve Blank for introducing me to ESL through his landmark Secret History of Silicon Valley, and to Amir Mizroch of The Dejargonizer for his insightful briefs on defence and innovation—his work actually led me to this deep dive! (By the way, next week’s edition of Drift Signal will feature the transcript of an extensive conversation I recently had with Amir about defence innovation in Israel.)

Here is the story of how William Perry’s ESL helped the US win the Cold War—and what it can teach us about winning the next one.

1/ Who is Bill Perry and what was ESL all about?

In 1964, at the height of the Cold War, William Perry made a decision that would reshape the defence technology landscape. As director of Sylvania's Electronic Defense Laboratories, the 37-year-old mathematician recognised that the future of signals intelligence lay in digital processing. Yet, despite its early lead in semiconductors, Sylvania remained wedded to its vacuum tube business—a classic case of an incumbent failing to adapt to disruptive change.

Like William Shockley before him, Perry chose to establish his new venture, ESL (Electromagnetic Systems Laboratory), in Palo Alto, to be close to Stanford University. The university's influential dean of engineering turned provost, Frederick Terman, had transformed Stanford into a technological powerhouse by fostering deep connections between academia, industry, and defence agencies. This ecosystem would prove crucial to ESL's success, providing both technical talent and defence connections.

ESL's technological breakthrough came from applying Claude Shannon's revolutionary information theory to military problems. Shannon had provided the mathematical framework for digital communication and encryption at Bell Labs, but ESL turned theory into practice. By digitising radio waves—converting analogue signals into computer bits—it enabled the processing of signals once thought undetectable.

It helped that Palo Alto’s status as a burgeoning tech hub placed ESL in close proximity to Hewlett-Packard (HP), founded there in 1939. ESL built its systems around HP's minicomputers—at the time, the most advanced commercial computing devices—transforming them into specialised intelligence processing platforms. It wasn’t just about using commercial technology; it was about recognising that civilian innovation cycles could outpace traditional military development. By experimenting that way, Perry and his colleagues learned that commercial technology was not only cheaper but often more advanced than military-specific (“MIL-SPEC”) solutions—a trend that would become more pronounced in the decades ahead.

On another side, in a departure from standard industry practice, Perry structured ESL as an employee-owned company. Venture funding was unavailable for classified work, so staff members invested their own savings. They were united by a mission: strengthening national security through technological innovation. This unique ownership model, combined with consistent profitability, enabled ESL to go public as early as 1971.

Ultimately, ESL’s success validated Perry's belief that commercial digital technology could transform military capabilities. This philosophy of leveraging civilian innovation for defence applications would later define his approach as US Secretary of Defense (1994-1997), where he championed the integration of commercial technology into military systems.

Today, the defence technology landscape is undergoing a transformation that Amir describes as a shift from 'Built to Last' to 'Built to Adapt.' This framework for understanding defence innovation has become particularly relevant in Europe, where the war in Ukraine has exposed both critical gaps and potential breakthroughs in military innovation capabilities. As we'll see, ESL's model of rapid innovation and close collaboration between civilian and military sectors offers vital lessons for navigating this new landscape.

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2/ How did ESL pioneer customer development?

ESL emerged at a pivotal moment in Silicon Valley, as the region shifted from microwave electronics to computing. Frederick Terman's Stanford ecosystem was more than just a geographical advantage; it fostered a fundamentally different approach to defence technology.

Instead of isolating military research in classified facilities, Terman’s Stanford Research Park provided ESL with both the physical infrastructure and unique cultural environment it needed. Unlike traditional defence contractors, who often kept their distance from customers due to the classified nature of the work, ESL thrived in an ecosystem where classified work and civilian innovation could merge. The company could recruit from the same talent pool as emerging semiconductor companies, while maintaining the security clearances needed for intelligence work. In just a few years, this dual capability—understanding both cutting-edge commercial technology and classified defence needs—became ESL's key competitive advantage.

In such a favourable context, long before modern startup methodologies became mainstream, ESL pioneered a revolutionary way of working with government customers: embedding intelligence analysts directly alongside its engineers—creating a level of collaboration unheard of at the time.

This intimate working relationship allowed ESL to understand deeply classified needs that could never have been captured in formal requirements documents. ESL’s engineers worked side by side with intelligence officers, observing their challenges firsthand and iterating on solutions as they arose. This was particularly crucial given the sensitive nature of signals intelligence work, where the problems themselves were often as classified as the solutions.

ESL went further, breaking industry norms by analysing and interpreting telemetry data—typically the sole domain of intelligence agencies—thus blurring the line between technical development and intelligence analysis. This integration of technical development with operational analysis created a virtuous cycle: ESL's engineers gained deeper insight into user needs, while agency analysts better understood the potential of emerging technologies. This approach foreshadowed modern agile development, where rapid iteration with users is essential.

Within the company, Perry instilled a culture where mission success took precedence over profit margins, contrasting with the typical defence contractor focus on cost control. By aligning leadership with government customers rather than shareholders, and making every engineer an owner, he fostered long-term commitment to the mission. Silicon Valley's entrepreneurial culture supported this model, making employee ownership more natural than in traditional defence, and aligning personal incentives with national security goals—creating a powerful model for defence innovation.

In just five years, ESL's customer-centric approach, combined with its employee ownership model, transformed the company from a niche startup into the market leader in signals intelligence and telemetry intercepts. This success demonstrated that in the highly regulated, security-sensitive world of defence contracting, aligning employee incentives with customer needs and harnessing commercial technology could drive breakthrough innovations.

This lesson is particularly relevant today, as defence agencies worldwide struggle to bridge the gap between rapid commercial innovation and traditional military procurement processes.

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3/ Why is it said that ESL and Bill Perry won the Cold War for the US?

In the 1950s, US President Dwight Eisenhower faced a crucial decision. Despite pressure to match the Soviet Union's massive conventional forces, he recognised this would bankrupt the American economy. Instead of feeding what he later famously called “the military-industrial complex,” he chose to rely on nuclear deterrence and NATO alliances—a far more economical approach to containing Soviet power.

By the 1970s, however, this strategy was showing its limits. The Nixon and Kissinger policy known as détente had allowed the Soviet Union to stabilise its economy, access Western technology, and focus on military advancements without the pressures of direct confrontation with the US, thus enabling it to once again regain a massive conventional advantage in Europe. Thus, the US needed a new approach and found it in an unexpected place: once again, Claude Shannon's information theory. The mathematical framework Shannon had developed at Bell Labs for understanding communication and encryption became the foundation for yet another technological revolution in warfare.

ESL had already demonstrated in the 1960s how digital signal processing could unlock previously undetectable Soviet communications. This expertise in detecting and analysing enemy signals led to a crucial reverse-engineering insight: the same digital technologies that had made the Soviet Union vulnerable to US detection systems could be used to make American forces virtually invisible to Soviet detection. This fusion of information theory and military technology gave rise to now-familiar warfare innovations such as stealth aircraft, precision-guided munitions, and advanced battlefield communications—all built on the fundamental principle that information superiority could offset conventional military disadvantages.

As the founder of ESL, Perry understood this potential better than anyone. When he became Undersecretary of Defense for Research and Engineering in 1977, he championed what became known as his “offset strategy”—using America’s technological edge to counter Soviet numerical superiority. Rather than matching tanks with tanks, the US would leverage its lead in computers and semiconductors to build weapons the Soviet Union could neither detect nor replicate. This approach foreshadowed today’s asymmetric warfare, where technological sophistication often outweighs raw military power.

During the final years of the Cold War, Perry’s advocacy for advanced military technology had reinforced Western superiority, contributing to the Soviet Union’s recognition that it could not compete without fundamental economic and political reforms—a move that would ultimately precipitate its fall. Later, as Secretary of Defense in the Clinton administration (1994–1997), Perry adapted this approach to a post-Cold War world, shifting from deterrence to what he called “preventive defence.” Instead of focusing on retaliatory threats, the US would use its technological advantage to prevent conflicts from escalating in the first place. This strategy, built on the digital supremacy that ESL had helped pioneer, shaped US military policy in an era of evolving global threats.

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4/ How did ESL's experience inform Bill Perry's approach to defence procurement?

When Perry became Undersecretary of Defense for Research and Engineering in 1977, he brought with him crucial lessons from ESL’s approach to integrating commercial technology into military needs. At ESL, Perry had seen firsthand how off-the-shelf digital technology could outperform specialised military hardware. This insight convinced him that the Department of Defense needed to shift away from rigid MIL-SPEC requirements and embrace commercial technology for both cost and innovation advantages. It all led him to a revolutionary idea: rather than developing bespoke military solutions, the Pentagon should harness the speed and innovation of the commercial sector.

As Secretary of Defense in the 1990s, Perry institutionalised this philosophy, directing the armed forces to procure commercial products whenever possible. Despite strong resistance from traditionalists who believed MIL-SPEC solutions were essential for national security, Perry argued that the rapid pace of commercial technological advancements often made them more effective than bespoke military alternatives.

This procurement strategy, known as the “Perry acquisition reform,” fundamentally changed the Department of Defense’s approach to technology acquisition. The success of these reforms reinforced the lessons Perry had learned at ESL: military superiority was not about creating everything from scratch but adapting and integrating advanced commercial innovations. This philosophy remains increasingly relevant as defence agencies continue to confront the fast-evolving commercial tech landscape.

In particular, the same dynamic is playing out in Ukraine, where commercial technology and rapid innovation are once again changing the nature of warfare.

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5/ How did the war in Ukraine dramatically change the strategic deal?

The war in Ukraine has fundamentally transformed our understanding of modern warfare, presenting a strategic shift as significant as ESL's revolution in signals intelligence. At its core, this transformation challenges traditional assumptions about military power and technological advantage.

The conflict has demonstrated that technological superiority no longer resides solely in expensive, specialised platforms but in the ability to rapidly adapt and deploy new solutions. This was dramatically illustrated when the US withdrew its M1A1 Abrams tanks from Ukraine after significant losses to Russian drones—a strategic wake-up call showing how even the most sophisticated conventional platforms can be vulnerable to rapidly evolving, lower-cost threats.

This shift has rewritten the rules of military engagement in three fundamental ways. First, just as ESL demonstrated how digital technology could overcome conventional advantages in the 1960s, Ukraine has shown that commercial technology and rapid innovation can challenge traditional military superiority. The critical factor is no longer just the sophistication of individual systems but the speed at which forces can adapt their capabilities to evolving battlefield conditions.

Second, the war has demonstrated the power of asymmetric innovation on both sides. Ukrainian forces have excelled at rapid adaptation of commercial technology, creating sophisticated battlefield management systems from off-the-shelf components. Meanwhile, Russian forces have shown how relatively simple innovations, like mass-produced drones, can effectively counter more sophisticated Western systems. This dual demonstration of innovation—both high-tech and low-tech—suggests that future conflicts will be shaped by the ability to innovate across the entire technological spectrum.

Third, the conflict has highlighted the critical role of information superiority in modern warfare. Much like ESL's breakthrough in signals intelligence gave the US a decisive advantage during the Cold War, Ukraine's ability to rapidly process and act on battlefield information has proved crucial. This encompasses everything from drone reconnaissance to electronic warfare, showing how digital capabilities have become as important as physical weapons systems.

The lesson is clear: future conflicts will be won not by those with the most expensive and durable equipment, but by those who can innovate and adapt the fastest. This reality is forcing a fundamental reassessment of military doctrine, procurement, and organisation across the globe.

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6/ Why is Israel falling short on the defence innovation front?

Israel presents a fascinating counterpoint to both ESL's historical success and Ukraine's current innovations in defence technology. Despite possessing both a sophisticated defence industry AND a world-class tech ecosystem, Israel has struggled to replicate the rapid innovation cycle that made ESL successful in the 1960s and that Ukraine has demonstrated in its current conflict.

As Amir’s analysis in The Dejargonizer reveals, Israel's challenges stem not from a lack of technical capability but from institutional rigidity. Despite constant security pressures and a proven capacity to innovate, the country's defence establishment has maintained structures that often impede rather than accelerate innovation. When talented engineers develop crucial battlefield innovations—such as drone-detection apps—they face significant barriers in moving from prototype to deployment, echoing the very challenges that led Bill Perry to found ESL outside the traditional defence industry.

The paradox is particularly striking given Israel's reputation for military innovation. While the country has succeeded in developing sophisticated military platforms through traditional defence contractors, it has struggled to harness its civilian tech sector's potential for military applications. This mirrors the challenge Perry identified at Sylvania in 1964: established institutions often resist the integration of new technological approaches, even when their potential military value is clear.

As Amir’s work documents, this institutional resistance became evident when Hamas managed to neutralise Israel's expensive surveillance system surrounding Gaza with cheap drones and grenades—demonstrating the vulnerability of even the most advanced, high-cost military technology when faced with rapidly innovating, low-cost alternatives. Several factors contribute to this situation:

• Rigid procurement processes that favour established defence contractors

• Security requirements that create high barriers to entry for startups

• Institutional preferences for building systems in-house rather than adapting commercial solutions

• Limited venture capital engagement in defence technology, unlike the American model

Overall, Israel's experience (which I’ll further discuss next week in my conversation with Amir) offers crucial lessons for traditional military powers seeking to modernise their defence innovation capabilities. Just as the Soviet military struggled to match ESL's digital capabilities, today's conventional forces must adapt to a battlefield where commercial technology and rapid innovation can upend traditional advantages. This adaptation requires not just new technologies but new organisational structures and institutional frameworks that can support rapid innovation and deployment.

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7/ What are the implications for the defence industry?

The strategic shift evident in Ukraine and Israel necessitates a fundamental rethinking of the defence industry. Ukraine's agile, technology-driven approach demonstrates how military capabilities can be developed and deployed in revolutionary ways, while Israel's failure to prevent Hamas's attack reveals how existing frameworks can impede strategic repositioning. In particular, similar to the digital revolution of the 1960s when Bill Perry founded ESL, the boundary between civilian and military technology is dissolving, while the resulting defence capabilities increasingly span diverse industrial sectors. This convergence is particularly evident in space, cybersecurity and AI.

Here’s a major consequence: once commercial components come into play, defence technology immediately becomes too complex and costly for single-nation development. While technologies like drones become inexpensive once the initial development is complete, they typically require substantial upfront investment before increasing returns to scale start to kick in—as is always the case with computing and networks! In particular, the fact that the Ukrainian military can procure commercial products to be used on the battlefield doesn't mean that the original research and development effort was cheap and easy—quite the contrary.

The practical consequence is that international partnerships are increasingly crucial for sharing both costs and expertise on most technologies to be ultimately used on the battlefield. And this creates new challenges in managing revenue from joint ventures involving multiple countries, particularly with sensitive technologies. From a macro perspective, these trends suggest that traditional metrics, such as defence spending as a percentage of GDP, may become less meaningful as critical military capabilities increasingly reside in civilian technology companies, industrial conglomerates, and VC-backed tech startups whose business spans across multiple borders.

The semiconductor industry exemplifies these challenges. Should government funding for this critical sector be included in defence spending? And wouldn’t a disruption to Taiwan's chip manufacturing severely impact global military capabilities across numerous nations, including NATO members? This raises strategic questions about what exactly counts as military spending and how the geographical dispersion of dual-use industrial bases is vulnerable to conflicts that could disrupt critical supply chains.

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8/ The relationship between academia, industry, and defence—is the Terman/Perry/ESL model still relevant?

The tension between civilian and military innovation is not a new phenomenon. During World War II, Vannevar Bush, the engineer and science administrator who oversaw US wartime research efforts, confronted this same challenge when making his pivotal argument to President Roosevelt: to win the war, America needed its best scientific minds—and those weren’t in the military. Rather than forcing researchers to enrol in military service, Bush proposed funding civilian universities to conduct defence research. This strategy—exemplified by the selection of J. Robert Oppenheimer to lead the Manhattan Project—recognised that Nazi Germany’s scientific advantage could only be countered by mobilising America’s civilian scientific establishment.

As a result, after the war, universities held both the intellectual resources and the expensive equipment necessary for cutting-edge research. When Terman returned to Stanford from heading Harvard’s 800-person secret Radio Research Laboratory, he tapped into the Bush-inspired, vast defence budget, leveraging it to create a local ecosystem where academic research, commercial innovation, and military needs reinforced one another. The substantial resources and infrastructure Stanford amassed—thanks in no small part to Terman’s efforts—were crucial to the rise of Silicon Valley and companies like ESL, which pioneered the use of digital technology in intelligence gathering against the Soviet Union.

However, today’s landscape is radically different from the post-war years. While public research and development funding has stagnated (even receded in many cases), the technology economy has surged ahead, with US tech companies like Apple and Microsoft now surpassing the entire defence industry in market capitalisation. Universities, once the heart of cutting-edge defence innovation, now struggle with increasing financial and institutional constraints, limiting their ability to provide the infrastructure necessary for defence-related breakthroughs.

This new reality demands a fundamental rethinking of the Bush-Terman-Perry model. Universities can no longer serve as the primary engines of defence innovation—they simply lack the necessary resources, let alone the entrepreneurial spirit that Terman once embodied, which was unique (see this landmark article by Vivek Wadhwa). Instead, new institutional frameworks are needed, particularly, I believe, venture capital funds willing to back startups focused on defence applications. Just as ESL required patient capital aligned with its mission, today’s defence tech entrepreneurs need long-term investors who understand both the sector’s technical challenges and its procurement complexities.

The venture capital model offers several advantages over traditional university-based innovation. Venture capitalists can move more quickly, take greater risks, and provide not just funding but crucial operational expertise and defence connections. They can also better bridge the gap between prototype and deployment, offering the kind of rapid iteration that modern warfare demands. However, defence-focused venture capital firms face unique challenges: longer development cycles than typical venture investments, complex procurement processes, and the need to balance commercial viability with military requirements.

The solution may lie in hybrid models that combine venture capital’s agility with institutional stability. Government-backed venture capital funds like In-Q-Tel (one of Palantir’s first backers), corporate venture arms of defence contractors, and new public-private partnership structures could provide the patient capital and technical expertise needed for defence innovation while maintaining the speed and flexibility that modern warfare demands. Physical proximity and a shared mission, while important, must be supported by financial and institutional structures that can sustain long-term innovation cycles.

This evolution in the institutional framework for defence innovation naturally leads us to question how military procurement must adapt to keep pace.

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9/ Can we draw inspiration from Bill Perry as we tackle modern procurement challenges?

When Bill Perry revolutionised defence procurement at the Pentagon in the 1990s, he was addressing exactly this challenge of bridging civilian innovation with military needs. His core insight stemmed from his ESL experience: the traditional military procurement system was too slow and rigid for the emerging digital age. His acquisition reforms focused on three key principles:

• Embracing commercial off-the-shelf technology wherever possible

• Streamlining acquisition processes for rapid deployment

• Moving away from military-specific requirements when commercial solutions could suffice

Today’s defence authorities face an even more urgent version of this challenge. The traditional procurement system is ill-suited to modern technology development, with standard contracts taking 18 to 24 months to negotiate in the US, for example—or even longer for vendors who must be accredited before negotiations can begin.

This issue is particularly acute in software and AI development. In most countries, the military is reluctant to engage with tech startups due to perceived risks and uncertainties, and startups, in turn, are hesitant because of the lengthy contract negotiation process. Yet, as Ukraine has demonstrated, rapid battlefield innovation often requires exactly this kind of risk-taking. In response, the Pentagon’s Defence Innovation Unit (DIU) found a creative solution: as told by DIU chief Christopher Kirchhoff in a recent Conversation with Tyler (Cowen), acquisition specialist Lauren Dailey uncovered a legal provision that enabled rapid contracting in 30 to 60 days. This new mechanism has enabled the acquisition of $70 billion in technology.

Despite these efforts, challenges persist. The F-35 fighter programme illustrates the problem: its processor design was locked in 2001, meaning modern smartphones now potentially possess more computing power than America’s most advanced fighter jet (although that’s debatable). More generally, traditional military forces have not fully prepared for asymmetric warfare. As quoted by Amir in his July 2024 brief on Israeli defence tech startups, Eli Friedman of Elbit Systems suggests that different types of warfare require different procurement strategies: symmetric warfare benefits from traditional processes, but asymmetric warfare demands a more flexible approach.

Overall, Perry’s fundamental lesson remains pertinent: the military must find ways to tap into commercial innovation cycles rather than relying on bespoke development processes that take decades to deliver. Today’s procurement challenges require an even more fundamental shift: the goal must be to continually lower the (marginal) cost of new systems and shorten their deployment timelines. As Amir puts it, to succeed, you must “race to the bottom.”

This shift demands a rethinking not just of procurement rules, but of the entire relationship between military needs and commercial innovation. The success of Ukraine’s defence tech ecosystem suggests that in some cases, the best approach might be to “shoot first and open a Jira ticket later”—a radical departure from traditional military procurement practices.

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10/ Overall lessons for Europe and its defence industry

Europe stands at a crossroads similar to the one Bill Perry faced when founding ESL: how to harness civilian innovation for military advantage in an era of rapid technological change. As we all realise by now (see Adam Tooze here and Azeem Azar here), Europe faces a stark choice: either develop independent defence capabilities or remain vulnerable to geopolitical uncertainties.

The first lesson from ESL concerns technological sovereignty. Just as ESL demonstrated how digital technology could provide strategic advantages in signals intelligence, Europe must identify and develop key technologies that can provide asymmetric advantages. This is especially urgent given Europe's dual vulnerability—both in semiconductors and in defence innovation. Ukraine's success shows that defence innovation does not require massive military-industrial complexes but rather the smart integration of commercial technologies into defence applications.

The development of such technologies increasingly relies on the venture capital industry. Europe faces a unique opportunity to create a new model of defence-oriented venture capital. While the US has organisations like In-Q-Tel and the DIU connecting venture capital to military needs, and Israel pioneered state-backed venture funding through its Yozma programme in the 1990s, Europe could develop its own distinctive approach.

A European defence venture framework could build on existing strengths: the EU's regulatory expertise, cross-border cooperation mechanisms, and deep industrial base. By establishing EU-backed dedicated investment firms with a mandate to support defence innovation, Europe could stimulate private investment while ensuring strategic alignment with defence needs. This framework could:

• Leverage the European Investment Fund's experience in catalysing private investment

• Create defence-focused venture funds that operate across multiple EU member states

• Establish clear pathways for startups to engage with national defence establishments

• Foster cooperation between civilian tech companies and traditional defence contractors

The success of such an initiative would require overcoming traditional European resistance to defence-focused venture capital while ensuring appropriate safeguards for sensitive technologies. However, the potential rewards—a vibrant ecosystem of defence innovation spanning the continent—could dramatically strengthen Europe's strategic autonomy.

The second lesson concerns procurement and the speed of innovation. Just as ESL pioneered close collaboration between engineers and intelligence analysts, Europe needs to modernise its approach to military acquisition. While access to European end-users requires navigating complex bureaucracies that can take months, Ukrainian teams can demonstrate new technologies to end-users within 48 hours. Perry's reforms at the Pentagon showed how military acquisition can be modernised to leverage commercial innovation and speed up the process. Similar reforms must be implemented in Europe without delay.

Finally, the most important lesson from ESL is about mindset. Success in defence technology doesn't always require matching adversaries system for system; rather, it's about finding innovative ways to offset their advantages. For Europe, this means focusing not on replicating American or Chinese capabilities but on developing distinctive strengths that can ensure strategic autonomy in an increasingly complex security environment. Just as ESL succeeded by applying commercial digital technology to military challenges in novel ways, Europe must find its own path to military innovation.

Whether Europe can rapidly learn and implement these lessons will likely determine its future in global defence. With Beijing, Washington DC, Kiev, and, to a certain extent, Tel Aviv shaping the future of warfare, Brussels has become, as Amir notes, the global capital of 'Not Invented Here', pouring its energy into legislation designed to tame innovation rather than fostering it. The time has come for Europe to write a new chapter in defence innovation—one that builds on ESL's legacy while addressing the unique challenges of our time.

William J. Perry (b. 1927) – Still active and contributing to defence innovation – Credit: The Hoover Institution

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11/ Go Further:

• William J. Perry (US Department of Defense)

• Oral History Interview with William Perry (US Department of Defense, October 1998)

• Interview with William Perry (US Department of Defense, October 2004)

• The Secret History of Silicon Valley, Part III: The Most Important Company You Never Heard Of (Steve Blank, April 2009)

• Dedication to Innovation and Nation (video—William Perry w/ Steve Blank, Stanford eCorner, May 2016)

• How Fred Terman Turned Stanford Into an Entrepreneurial Powerhouse (me, Drift Signal, July 2020)

• Where are Israel's Defense Tech Startups? (Amir Mizroch, The Dejargonizer, July 2024)

• William Perry's Smart Weapons (Palantir Technologies’s Shyam Sankar, Madeline Zimmerman, and Greg Little, First Breakfast, July 2024)

• Christopher Kirchhoff on Military Innovation and the Future of War (Tyler Cowen, Conversations with Tyler, October 2024)

• A New Architecture of Global Defense? (Amir Mizroch, The Dejargonizer, November 2024)

• Defense Innovation at War Speed (Amir Mizroch, The Dejargonizer, February 2025)

• Israel's Defense Dilemma: When Algorithms Outpace Ammo (Amir Mizroch, The Dejargonizer, February 2025)

• Europe's rearming. But does defence tech make investment sense? (John Thornhill, Sifted, February 2025)

• Preparing for the next European war (Azeem Azhar, Exponential View, February 2025)

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From Munich, Germany 🇩🇪

Nicolas