By Shawn Rostker
In Washington, we talk about the Indo-Pacific constantly — its strategic importance, its contested future and the role the United States ought to play in shaping it. But rarely does D.C. pause to ask how the people in the region see that future unfolding for themselves. At the 2025 Young Trilateral Leaders Summit in Osaka, Japan, I had the chance to listen.
Recently, I had the opportunity to represent the United States at the 2025 Young Trilateral Leaders (YTL) Summit in Osaka. Now in its second year, the YTL program is a U.S. State Department-sponsored initiative that brings together 50 early-career leaders from across the United States, Japan, South Korea, and a range of Southeast Asian and Pacific countries. The program’s mission is simple: foster regional understanding, strengthen cross-border ties, and create space for honest dialogue and cooperation on shared challenges.
I expected the summit to center on cultural exchange and general diplomacy. What I didn’t expect was how quickly the conversation turned to hard security, and in particular to nuclear weapons. In hallway chats, evening meals and late-night city strolling, the topic surfaced again and again. And not because I brought it up.
So, Let’s Talk Nukes
As someone who works on nuclear policy professionally, I’m used to being the one to initiate these conversations. But in Osaka, I found myself on the receiving end. Participants from across the region wanted to talk about disarmament, non-proliferation and the growing risks of nuclear conflict in a contentious world. And they didn’t want simplified answers.
These weren’t academic or abstract conversations. They were grounded in the lived experience of living in a region increasingly shaped by great-power competition, ballooning military budgets and sharpened nuclear rhetoric. One delegate from the Republic of Korea told me they saw an independent South Korean nuclear arsenal as the only way to feel safe in the face of North Korea’s growing capabilities. Others, meanwhile, feared that more nuclear weapons in the region would only raise the risk of war.
Some participants asked thoughtful, urgent questions: What does U.S. extended deterrence really mean for non-nuclear states? Is there still a meaningful pathway to disarmament in a world where nuclear modernization is accelerating? Still others asked more fundamental questions: How is any of this helping my country stay safe?
What became clear is that outside Washington, D.C., nuclear policy is not just the concern of experts and officials. There is a growing cohort of young leaders who understand what’s at stake and who want to be part of shaping how decisions are made.
What Surprised Me, and Might Surprise Washington
What caught me off guard wasn’t just how often nuclear issues came up, but who was raising them. It wasn’t just the typical foreign policy-focused professionals. I found myself discussing arms control opportunities with an environmental consultant from Palau, the proliferation risks of submarine-sharing agreements with a Japanese Kiwi engineering student, and the long-term political consequences of recent U.S. military strikes on Iranian nuclear facilities with a Japanese mental health clinician. These individuals focused on what nuclear weapons and capabilities mean for sovereignty, resilience and long-term regional peace.
It made me wonder: is Washington doing enough to hear these voices? Or is it too often stuck in its own echo chambers, assuming that what makes sense inside the Beltway maps neatly onto how others experience security?
There’s More to Security Than What D.C. Sees
There’s a tendency in U.S. policy circles to treat diplomacy as a largely bilateral or top-down enterprise. We often measure success in things like formal summits and defense commitments. But in Osaka, I was reminded that the fabric of regional cooperation is built not just in boardrooms or press releases, but in shared understanding across borders and sectors.
What stood out about the YTL Summit was its “Trilateral+” structure. While U.S.-ROK-Japan relations were central, the inclusion of delegates from countries like Singapore, the Philippines and Australia added essential depth and perspective. Many of these voices come from nations not directly involved in major power rivalries, but who are deeply impacted by them and who are often excluded from formal dialogues.
Their presence wasn’t a gesture of inclusivity. It was a necessary correction to a long-standing diplomatic model. They asked hard questions, offered creative solutions and challenged assumptions baked into the way we think about things like deterrence, alliances, and diplomacy. These kinds of forums reveal the blind spots in our traditional policymaking processes and suggest how we might begin to correct them.
Where the Conversation Needs to Go From Here
The YTL Summit reaffirmed something I’ve come to believe but don’t always see reflected in policy debates: effective diplomacy starts with listening. In Osaka, I didn’t just hear new voices. I heard new questions, new fears and new ideas for thinking about peace and security in the Indo-Pacific and beyond.
For those of us working on nuclear policy, it’s a reminder that our work doesn’t exist in a vacuum. The decisions we make — or advocate for — ripple outward. They’re interpreted, adapted and sometimes challenged in ways we don’t always anticipate.
That’s why these forums matter. And that’s why I came back from Osaka more committed than ever to widening the aperture of our policy conversations. Simply put, if we want a safer world, we’re going to have to build it with more people in the room.
Because the Indo-Pacific isn’t just a theater for competition or a set of talking points in a strategy document; it’s home to a rising generation of leaders who are already thinking deeply about how to build a safer, more inclusive future. Washington ignores these voices at its own risk.
