From Córdoba to the Cloud

Standing inside the Mezquita-Catedral de Córdoba, it is impossible not to feel disoriented by time. The forest of columns, the mastery of light and space, the precision of geometry—all speak to a civilization at the height of its technological and cultural confidence. At its peak, Córdoba rivaled Constantinople in scale and sophistication, and was vastly larger than London or Paris. Its streets were lit. Its homes were plumbed. Its libraries and universities served as transmission belts of knowledge for the world.

A few days later, touring the Alhambra, the lesson deepened. The palace is not merely beautiful; it is engineered. Water flows with mathematical precision. Climate control is achieved through design rather than machinery. The technology embedded in its walls exceeded that of much of contemporary Western Europe.

And yet, both are monuments not to permanence—but to impermanence.

Leadership Is Never Guaranteed

History has a way of humbling any society that assumes technological leadership is destiny rather than condition. Córdoba and Granada remind us that being ahead—sometimes far ahead—does not ensure that leadership endures. Innovation must be matched by institutions, cohesion, and strategic clarity. When those erode, advantage follows.

During the centuries-long contest for Iberia, the balance of power shifted repeatedly. What often determined success was unity. The side that could align leadership, resources, and purpose for sustained periods prevailed. The fractured side—however advanced—lost ground.

A Modern Echo: The 5G Lesson

That historical echo is hard to miss in the modern technology race. In the global rollout of 5G, a unified Huawei, backed by a coherent national strategy, surged ahead. The Western response was not short on talent or capital, but it was divided—across companies, regulators, allied governments, and timelines. Innovation existed, but resolve and coordination lagged.

Unity won the battle.

The Great Power Paradox

Yet history offers a caution against drawing the wrong conclusion. In The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers, Paul Kennedy describes a deeper paradox: Europe’s long-term rise was not despite its internal competition, but because of it. Fragmented, rivalrous states were forced to innovate relentlessly. Failure was tolerated. Success diffused. Progress accelerated.

By contrast, highly centralized political systems—from imperial China to the Ottoman world—often achieved stunning bursts of capability, but struggled to sustain adaptive innovation over time.

Unity can win wars.
Competition wins centuries.

America’s Tech Stack Dilemma

This is the strategic puzzle facing the United States today.

How does America preserve the internal competition that fuels innovation—among firms, universities, startups, and states—while presenting a coherent, credible, and unified technology stack to the world? How does it compete with a cohesive China–Huawei model without becoming one?

The answer is not to abandon pluralism. That would sacrifice the very advantage that has powered American leadership. Instead, the challenge is layered coherence.

At home, competition must remain fierce. Rivalry is not a flaw; it is the engine.
At the boundary—where U.S. technology meets global markets—cohesion is essential. Standards, interoperability, financing, export rules, and allied coordination must align.

Think of it as technological federalism:
competition inside the system, unity at the edge.

The Deeper Lesson from Andalusia

The Alhambra’s water channels and Córdoba’s arches remind us that technical brilliance without institutional alignment is fleeting. But they also warn against the opposite error: unity without dynamism becomes brittle.

China today has cohesion.
America still has dynamism.

The decisive question of our era—and one that will shape the frontiers of freedom—is whether open societies can discipline their pluralism without extinguishing it. If they can, their story will not be like Córdoba’s—one of decline—but instead, one of renewal.