About 10% of world trade goes through the Suez Canal on some 17,000 ships per year, which is more like 30% of world seaborne trade. About 12% of world energy supplies also traverse the Red Sea.

Houthi attacks on shipping appear to be indiscriminate, since a cargo traveling from Saudi Arabia to Pakistan is a little unlikely to include Israeli goods.

The Houthi spokesman, Yahya Sarea, said that the Houthis had also launched drones at Eilat and other areas of what he called occupied Palestine. He said that the actions were in defense of the Palestinian people. The Israeli air force has killed over 20,000 Palestinians with indiscriminate aerial bombardment and destroyed much of the housing stock and other civilian infrastructure of the Gaza Strip in revenge for the October 7 Hamas terrorist attack on Israel that left over a thousand people dead.

Aljazeera said that yet another vessel was struck off the Yemeni port of Hodeida earlier on Tuesday but provided no details.

Al-Jazeera: “The Houthi fighters launch a missile : Attack on a commercial vessel in the Red Sea”

Aljazeera reports that dozens of cargo ships have been stranded at the port of Djibouti for days and want to find a way to get word to the Houthis that they are not carrying Israeli goods.

The longer the Israeli assault on Gaza goes on, the more likely it is that the US will get pulled into a war on Sanaa. President Biden just hit an Iraqi Shiite militia in reprisal for attacks on US troops, angering Baghdad. Inasmuch as Iran is supplying and encouraging the Iraqi Shiite militias and the Houthis, another question is how long this proxy tit-for-tat can be contained and whether it will spiral into a larger US-Iran confrontation. One way to avoid this scenario is for President Biden to read the riot act to Israeli Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu and stop the madness.

As noted, the United States had announced a multi-nation effort to patrol the Red Sea and deter such Houthi drone attacks. No regional country but Bahrain agreed to join it publicly, however, likely because Arab governments do not want to be seen to be defending Israeli interests at a time when Israel is inflicting a genocide on the Palestinians. Secretary of Defense Austin Lloyd named as members Britain, Bahrain, Canada, France, Italy, the Netherlands, Norway, Seychelles and Spain. In fact, however, France said only that it would operate as usual in the Red Sea and would remain under French command. Spain declined to join the ad hoc mission, saying it would only participate in full NATO initiatives. The center-left government of Pedro Sánchez has been scathing about Israel’s destruction of Gaza. Italy said it would send one frigate.

So actually there is no multi-national coalition, it is smoke and mirrors, and it is just the US and maybe Britain shooting down drones as far as I can tell.

MSC Mediterranean said it had reported the attack to the coalition naval protection force (i.e. to the US).

Brad Lendon at CNN reports that the Houthis had let 17 drones and missiles fly on Tuesday that were intercepted by weapons fired by “guided-missile destroyer USS Laboon and by F/A-18 fighter jets flying off the aircraft carrier USS Eisenhower.” The anti-missile weapons used by the US, however, are $2 million a pop, and the US doesn’t have all that many of them in the arsenal, so if the Houthis go on firing drones, the US Navy could run out of deterrents, Lendon says.

It appears that the drones that hit the MSC United VIII evaded US anti-missile efforts.

Denmark’s Maersk, a major container ship corp., had been going around Africa but says it will gradually resume using the Red Sea. But will it? It isn’t clear whether its officials are just trying to talk down spiking insurance and other costs.

Yemen is divided into three political regions at the moment, with the Houthis in the north, the internationally recognized government in the middle, and the UAE-backed Southern Transitional Council along the Arabian Sea and Gulf of Aden littoral. Although it is internationally recognized, the government of President Rashad al-Alimi doesn’t actually control much of the country.

Alimi’s Information Minister, Muammar al-Eryani, warned that the Houthi tactics could backfire on Yemen (h/t BBC Monitoring). He pointed out that North Yemen depends on the Hodeida Port on the Red Sea for the importation of 80% of the country’s food, so you don’t actually want ships avoiding that route or charging more for carriage. Although, let’s face it, it isn’t the big international container ships that call at Hodeida.

Al-Eryani also questioned the value of idling Eilat Port in Israel, as the Houthis claim to have done. He pointed out that only 5% of goods imported by sea into Israel come in via Eilat.

It also isn’t very likely that the Houthi drones are actually hitting Eilat, despite what Sarea said.

Some commentators have criticized Israel for causing what is claimed to be disproportionate harm to civilians in its military response to Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023, attack.

Others have defended Israel’s actions, claiming that such force – and the risk to civilians involved – is necessary to eliminate Hamas, which some Israelis believe poses an existential threat to Israel.

As of Nov. 25, according to health officials in the Gaza Strip, more than 14,000 Palestinians have been killed, the majority of whom are women and children.

But one of the arguments given by defenders of Israel’s actions is that, tragic though these deaths are, the harm inflicted on civilians is proportionate because it is outweighed by the importance of destroying Hamas.

But what does “proportionate” mean in the context of civilian deaths? And how should we assess Israel’s claims of proportionality against critics who argue that Israel’s actions have caused disproportionate harm to civilians? As a scholar of war crimes and military ethics, I argue that to assess these claims requires careful thought about what it really means to value civilian lives. If all civilian lives are morally equal, as international law holds, then the lives of civilians on both sides of a conflict should be treated with the same degree of respect.

Why targeting civilians is wrong

International humanitarian law, or IHL, prohibits direct attacks on noncombatants – a category that includes civilians as well as wounded and surrendered soldiers. IHL also prohibits direct attacks on civilian objects such as schools, religious centers and hospitals and other civilian infrastructure.

However, because it is impossible to avoid all harm to civilians in a war zone, IHL permits attacks on military targets that are likely to cause harm to civilians if two conditions are met: First, the foreseeable harm to civilians must be proportionate to the military advantage sought by the attack. And second, the choice of tactics and weapons – what is referred to in IHL as the “means and methods” – must also aim to minimize risk to civilians, even if it means putting more soldiers in harm’s way.

The prohibitions on directly targeting civilians and exposing civilians to disproportionate risk of harm exist because, under IHL, civilians have protected status as long as they take “no active part in the hostilities.” This means that, as stated in the Geneva Conventions – the set of international treaties governing the conduct of armed conflict – all civilians must be “treated humanely, without any adverse distinction founded on race, color, religion or faith, sex, birth or wealth, or any other similar criteria.”

Directly targeting civilians or exposing them to disproportionate harm is therefore wrong for the same reasons that it is wrong to kill or harm innocent people in peacetime. People who pose no threat to others deserve respect and protection from violence regardless of their nationality or group identity. To violate that respect in war is not only a war crime but a moral crime, which is why Hamas’ massacre of at least 1,200 Israeli citizens and the taking of 240 hostages is rightly condemned as an atrocity.

How should the lives of innocent people be weighed against important military objectives?

Proportionality and moral assessment

The condemnation of Hamas’ crimes is based on the same moral principle as the laws that protect noncombatants in war: All innocent people deserve protection.

However, scholars and legal experts disagree about how the legal framework laid out in the Geneva Conventions should be applied in war zones.

For example, in 1987 the International Committee of the Red Cross argued that the definition of “military advantage” – the advantage against which potential civilian harm must be weighed – should only include “ground gained” and “annihilating or weakening the enemy armed forces.”

But the 2016 U.S. Department of Defense Law of War Manual claimed that “military advantage” should also include other goals such as “diverting enemy forces’ resources and attention.”

There is also disagreement about what counts as “civilian harm.” For example, scholar Emanuela-Chiara Gillard argues that “civilian harm” should include psychological and physical harms; legal expert Dr. Beth Van Schaack argues that long-term harms should also be considered.

In short, there are no easy answers to questions about how to weigh harms against civilians against the value of military objectives. But while answers are difficult, there is a different way to frame this question: What does it mean – not just legally, but morally – to treat all civilian lives as equal, as the law requires?

As scholar Matthew Talbert and I argue, the first step in answering this question is to ask what a military force would accept if it were “their” civilians who were at risk of harm from military action.

That is the standard we should apply when assessing potential military actions that threaten harm to enemy civilians. We call this standard the “principle of the moral equality of noncombatants.” For example, Israel argued that its attack on Shifa hospital was justified because, it claimed, Hamas was hiding a command base and weapons under the hospital.

The hospital, which was running low on fuel, food and water, housed patients, including premature babies, and civilians seeking refuge from the conflict. According to footage shown in news reports, the attack left the hospital seriously damaged, filled with debris and lacking essential supplies for the remaining patients, who include the elderly and infirm.

Israel has released footage supporting its claim that there was a Hamas command center under the hospital. Does that mean Israel’s attack on the hospital meets the requirements of proportionality? In other words, was the harm to civilians caused by the attack – including the ongoing harm resulting from the loss of a major hospital – proportionate to the military value of destroying a Hamas command base?

In applying the principle Talbert and I proposed in our paper, the question would be phrased as follows: If Hamas was hiding a control base under an Israeli hospital and it was Israeli civilians at risk, would Israel think that attacking the hospital would be justified? If the answer is “no,” then the attack against Shifa hospital is also not justified.

This is because if the risk to Israeli lives outweighs the benefits of capturing a Hamas command base, then the risk to Palestinian lives should be given the same weight and lead to the same conclusion. Under IHL, all civilians are legally entitled to the same protection, regardless of their nationality.

Taking civilian lives seriously

Unfortunately, the debate about proportionality in the conflict between Israel and Palestine is only the latest of many debates about proportionality and civilian deaths in war zones.

“Gaza Guernica 7,” by Juan Cole, Digital (Dream/ IbisPaint), 2023.

For example, since 2001, the United States’ drone program has killed at least 22,000 civilians in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Pakistan and elsewhere. A New York Times report on these deaths found multiple instances of “flawed intelligence,” cover-ups and cases of mistaken identity. Despite this record, civilians deaths still occur.

Using the principle of the moral equality of noncombatants to assess this track record would reveal whether the U.S. military is taking sufficient care to avoid harm to civilians. If the U.S. military would not accept these deaths – and the policies and practices that contribute to them – if U.S. civilians were at risk, then these deaths are unjustified.

This would mean that the drone program must change in order to treat civilians in Syria, Pakistan and elsewhere with the respect to which they are legally and morally entitled. This example illustrates that to meet the standards of IHL and the moral principles that underlie those standards, military forces must apply the principle of the moral equality of noncombatants. There is no legal or moral justification, I argue, for treating some civilians lives as less important than others.

This is a demanding principle. Applying it would be difficult – military and political leaders would have to accept that there might be military objectives that are not important enough to justify risk to civilian lives. And it would require acknowledging that some military objectives might be so important that even harm to “their” civilians might be justified.

But one of the functions of IHL is to “limit the suffering and damage caused by armed conflict.” This principle reflects the moral and legal status of civilians in IHL and could lead to greater respect for and protection of all civilians during conflict.

Jessica Wolfendale, Professor of Philosophy, Case Western Reserve University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

( Tomdispatch.com ) – “I no longer love blue skies. In fact, I now prefer gray skies. The drones do not fly when the skies are gray.”  

That’s what a young Pakistani boy named Zubair told members of Congress at a hearing on drones in October 2013. That hearing was during the Obama years at a time when the government had barely even acknowledged that an American drone warfare program existed. 

Two years earlier, however, a Muslim cleric, Anwar Al-Awlaki and his 16-year-old son Abdulrahman, both American citizens, were killed by U.S. drone strikes in Yemen just weeks apart. Asked to comment on Abdulrahman’s killing, Obama campaign senior adviser Robert Gibbs said: “I would suggest that you should have a far more responsible father if they are truly concerned about the well-being of their children. I don’t think becoming an al-Qaeda jihadist terrorist is the best way to go about doing your business.”

Those are two of all too many grim tales of the brutality with which the United States has carried out its drone warfare program. Post-9/11 reiterations by the government of the danger we now live in (because the U.S. was attacked), have made the collective responsibility of Muslims and the callous dismissal of their deaths a regular occurrence.  

In 2023, this country’s drone warfare program has entered its third decade with no end in sight. Despite the fact that the 22nd anniversary of 9/11 is approaching, policymakers have demonstrated no evidence of reflecting on the failures of drone warfare and how to stop it. Instead, the focus continues to be on simply shifting drone policy in minor ways within an ongoing violent system.

The Inherent Dehumanization of Drone Warfare

In February 2013, White House Press Secretary Jay Carney justified drone strikes as a key tool of American foreign policy this way:  

“We have acknowledged, the United States, that sometimes we use remotely piloted aircraft to conduct targeted strikes against specific al-Qaeda terrorists in order to prevent attacks on the United States and to save American lives. We conduct those strikes because they are necessary to mitigate ongoing actual threats, to stop plots, prevent future attacks, and, again, save American lives… The U.S. government takes great care in deciding to pursue an al-Qaeda terrorist, to ensure precision and to avoid loss of innocent life.”

More aggressively endorsing the use of such drones, Georgetown Professor Daniel Byman, who has held government positions, emphasized the necessity of such warfare to protect American lives. “Drones,” he wrote, “have done their job remarkably well… And they have done so at little financial cost, at no risk to U.S. forces, and with fewer civilian casualties than many alternative methods would have caused.”

In reality, however, Washington’s war on terror has inflicted disproportionate violence on communities across the globe, while using this form of asymmetrical warfare to further expand the space between the value placed on American lives and those of Muslims. As the rhetoric on drone warfare suggests, the value of life and the need to protect it are, as far as Washington is concerned, reserved for Americans and their allies.

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Since the war on terror was launched, the London-based watchdog group Airwars has estimated that American air strikes have killed at least 22,679 civilians and possibly up to 48,308 of them. Such killings have been carried out for the most part by desensitized killers, who have been primed towards the dehumanization of the targets of those murderous machines. In the words of critic Saleh Sharief, “The detached nature of drone warfare has anonymized and dehumanized the enemy, greatly diminishing the necessary psychological barriers of killing.” 

In his book On Killing: The Psychological Cost of Learning to Kill in War and Society, retired Army Lieutenant Colonel Dave Grossman focuses on the “mechanical distancing” of modern warfare, thanks to “the sterile Nintendo-game unreality of killing through a TV screen, a thermal sight, a sniper sight, or some other kind of mechanical bugger that permits the killer to deny the humanity of his victim.” Scholar Grégoire Chamayou describes this phenomenon in even starker terms. Thanks to the distance between the drone operator and the victim, “One is never spattered by the adversary’s blood. No doubt the absence of any physical soiling corresponds to less of a sense of moral soiling… Above all, it ensures that the operator will never see his victim seeing him doing what he does to him.”  

Needless to say, drone technology has rendered those in distant lands so much more disposable in the name of American national security. This is because such long-range techno-targeting has created a profound level of dehumanization that, ironically enough, has only made the repeated act of long-distance killing, of (not to mince words) slaughter, remarkably banal.  

In these years of the war on terror, the legalities of drone warfare coupled with the way its technology capitalizes on an unfortunate aspect of human psychology has made the dehumanization of Muslims (and so violence against them) that much easier to carry out. It’s made their drone killing so much more of a given because it’s taken for granted that Muslims in “target sites” or conflict zones must be terrorists whose removal should be beyond questioning — even after a posthumous determination of their civilian status.

Responsibility, Not Accountability

At a 2016 press conference, President Barack Obama finally responded to a question about the increasing numbers of drone strikes by admitting: “There’s no doubt that civilians were killed that shouldn’t have been.” Then he added, “In situations of war, you know, we have to take responsibility when we’re not acting appropriately.”

Rare as such admissions of “responsibility” have been, however, they remain quite different from accountability. In Obama’s case, all that was offered to the survivors among those who “shouldn’t have been” killed in such drone strikes was an utterly minimal acknowledgment that it was even happening.

While the use of drones in the war on terror began under President George W. Bush, it escalated dramatically under Obama. Then, in the Trump years, it rose yet again. Halfway through Trump’s presidency, drone strikes had already exceeded the total number in the Obama era. Though the use of drones in Joe Biden’s first year in office was lower than Trump’s, what has remained consistent is the lack of the slightest accountability for the slaughter of civilians.  

In 2021, as the U.S. was withdrawing chaotically from its 20-year Afghan War disaster, its military surveilled a white car driving around Kabul, believed it to be carrying explosives, and launched its final drone strike of that conflict, slaughtering 10 Afghans. Two weeks later, after reporting by the New York Times revealed what really happened, the Pentagon finally admitted that only civilians had been killed, seven of them children (but penalized no one). 

Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin later apologized to the families of those killed and offered compensation — one of the few times American officials had even bothered to acknowledge wrongdoing in Afghanistan in the last 20 years. True to form, however, the government’s pledge to compensate the impacted families has gone unfulfilled, a grim reminder that in none of those years has there been any semblance of justice for civilian survivors of such drone strikes.

A few weeks ago, thanks to a Freedom of Information Act request, the Biden administration was forced to release a redacted version of a presidential policy memorandum, signed in October 2022, that detailed the administration’s latest approach to drone warfare globally. At least some details about it were known prior to its release, however, thanks to an anonymous senior administration official. 

The Washington Post editorial board, among others, celebrated the memo, arguing that the restrictions in place are “smart rules of engagement” and a significant improvement over the Trump years when it comes to limiting civilian damage from drones. In reality, however, Biden’s memo is likely to do little to stem future drone warfare nightmares. In essence, the memo represents a return to Obama-era rules, including the supposed need to have “near-certainty” that the target of a drone strike is a terrorist and “near-certainty” that non-combatants won’t be injured or killed. The memo also includes other criteria that (at least theoretically) must be met before an individual is targeted, including an assessment that capture is not feasible.

In the case of Anwar Al-Awlaki, while the U.S. claimed his capture wasn’t possible, members of his family disputed this. In a Democracy Now interview, Al-Awlaki’s uncle Saleh bin Fareed stated, “I am sure I could have handed him over — me and my family — but they never, ever asked us to do that.” Needless to say, the lack of transparency has made it impossible to know if such standards are being met before a strike takes place and, worse yet, there’s no method of accountability if they aren’t.

That Biden administration memo does ban signature strikes that target individuals whose identities are unknown based on behavior suggesting they might be involved in terrorist activity. Still, we shouldn’t mistake a modestly better policy for a truly legal, moral, and ethical one, especially since the drone strike “mistakes” of the past haven’t led to any genuinely meaningful overhauls of the program.

Minimizing Civilian Deaths?

On September 20, 2001, nine days after the 9/11 attacks, President George W. Bush delivered a speech to a joint session of Congress in which he first used the phrase “war on terror,” while announcing a domestic and global campaign to be fought without borders or time constraints. Previewing what, years later, would become known as this country’s “forever wars,” he advised Americans that they “should not expect one battle, but a lengthy campaign unlike any other we have ever seen. It may include dramatic strikes visible on TV and covert operations secret even in success.”

Cameroonian political theorist Achille Mbembe’s theory of necropolitics — that is, the politics of death – catches the essence of the war on terror Bush launched as a way of life (and death) — “the capacity to define who matters and who does not, who is disposable and who is not.” With the invasion of Afghanistan and the designation of entire largely Muslim parts of the planet as the enemy, the Bush administration began a “war” in which Muslim deaths were necessary for the protection and preservation of American ones.  This set a precedent for the value of Muslim life when the act of killing them could be equated with the security of Americans and the protection of “the homeland.”

Twenty-two years later, drones continue to be instruments of civilian slaughter and the language deployed by successive administrations to describe such slaughter has served to sanitize that fact. Whether it’s the use of “target” or “collateral damage,” both minimize the reality that human beings are being murdered.  Taken together with a larger war-on-terror narrative in which Muslims have been strikingly demonized and criminalized, the result has been the production of killable bodies whose deaths elicit neither guilt, remorse, nor accountability. 

In his 2014 State of the Union address, President Obama explained why he put “prudent limits” on drone warfare, pointing out that Americans “will not be safer if people abroad believe we strike within their countries without regard for the consequence.” And how right he was.

As yet, however, there have been zero consequences for the air-strike deaths of tens of thousands of civilians globally and, as Obama’s statement suggests, the only real concern this caused American officials was the fear that too many such killings might, in the end, harm Americans.  

Grieving Muslim Lives

In Sana’a, Yemen, a wall with graffiti art shows a U.S. drone under which someone has written in blood-red paint, “Why did you kill my family?” in English and Arabic. The relentless American drone campaign has indeed left all too many civilians in Muslim-majority countries asking the same question. The only answer offered in Washington over all these years is that such killings were unavoidable collateral damage.

But imagine, for a moment, what Americans might do if their family members were regularly being killed by drones because another government claimed “near certainty” that they were terrorists? You know the answer, of course, given the response to the 9/11 attacks: this country would undoubtedly launch a catastrophic war of epic proportions with no conceivable end in sight. In contrast, Muslims targeted by American drones have been left to pick up the all-too-literal pieces of their loved ones, while risking the possibility of also being killed in a double- or triple-tap strike — a level of violence that should never be justified.  

We should all reject a war on terror committed to the disposability of Muslims because no one (including Muslims) should have to mourn the killing of civilians the U.S. has targeted for far too long. Muslim lives have inherent value and their deaths are worth grieving, mourning, and above all valuing. Drone warfare will never change that fact.

Copyright 2023 Maha Hilal

Via Tomdispatch.com

Loud explosions rock the evening sky. Streaks of light appear like comets. Missiles rain down. Below, people scramble for cover. The injured are taken on stretchers – the dead, buried.

That is daily life in Ukraine, where pilotless vehicles known as drones litter the sky in an endless video gamelike – but actually very real – war with Russia.

Both Russia and Ukraine are using drones in this war to remotely locate targets and drop bombs, among other purposes.

Today, drones are used in various other conflicts, but are also used to deliver packages, track weather, drop pesticides and entertain drone hobbyists.

Welcome to the world of drones. They range from small consumer quadcopters to remotely piloted warplanes – and all types are being used by militaries around the world.

As a scholar of public diplomacy and foreign policy – and a former United States under secretary of state for public diplomacy and public affairs – I know how important it is for people to understand drones and their proliferation, given the risks of war, terrorism and accidental drone clashes in the world today.

A buying spree

The U.S. is among more than 100 countries using drones in times of conflict.

Terrorists have also been known to deploy drones because they are relatively low-cost weapons with high degrees of civilian damage.

Consumer drone shipments, globally, topped 5 million units in 2020 and are expected to surpass 7 million by 2025.

Via Pixabay.

Sales of drones globally were up 57% from 2021 to 2022.

With the exponential rise in drone purchases, there are few constraints for buyers, creating a wild, wild west of uncontrolled access and usage.

Each country is free to decide when and where drones fly, without answering to any other country or international authority governing drones. The skies are often filled with drone swarms, with little on-the-ground guidance on the rules of the sky.

Different purposes

Each country has a unique interest in getting and using drones.

China is increasingly using sophisticated drones for covert surveillance, especially in international waters to patrol the disputed islands in the South China Sea. Its expanding drone program has influenced other countries like the U.S. to also invest more in the technology.

Turkey’s military has a highly sophisticated drone, the Bayraktar TB2, which is capable of carrying laser-guided bombs and small enough to fit in a flatbed truck.

The United Arab Emirates imports drones from China and Turkey to deploy in Yemen and Libya to monitor warlords in case conflict breaks out.

And South Korea is considering starting a special drone unit after it failed to respond to a recent North Korean drone incursion. When North Korea deployed five drones towards it southern neighbor in December 2022, South Korea had to scramble its fighter jets to issue warning shots.

No rules in the air

The countries with armed drones are individually navigating their own rules instead of an international agreed-upon set of regulations.

International law prohibits the use of armed force unless the United Nations Security Council authorizes an attack, or in the case of self-defense.

But short of launching a full war, drones can legally be deployed for counterterrorism operations, surveillance and other non-self defense needs, creating a slippery slope to military conflict.

Figuring out the national and international rules of the sky for drone usage is hard.

For 20 years, experts have tried to create international agreements on arms – and some countries supported an informal 2016 U.N. agreement that recommends countries document the import and export of unmanned aerial vehicles.

But these efforts never evolved into serious, comprehensive standards and laws that kept pace with technology. There are several reasons for that: To protect their national sovereignty, governments do not want to release drone data. They also want to avoid duplication of their technology and to maintain their market share of the drone trade.

US and drones

For decades, the U.S. has wrestled with how to balance drone warfare as it became involved in overseas operations in Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria and other conflict zones.

The U.S. killed a top al-Qaida leader with a drone strike in Afghanistan in 2022.

But there have been other instances of drone strikes that resulted in unintended casualties and damage.

In 2021, The New York Times reported that a U.S. drone strike on a vehicle thought to contain an Islamic State bomb resulted in the deaths of 10 children – not three civilians, as the U.S. said might have happened.

There is scant public opinion research on how American feel about the use of drones overseas, which makes building public support for their military use difficult.

Drone dangers

Drone dangers are real. Many drone experts, including myself, believe it is unsafe for each country’s military to make its own decisions on drones with no rules guiding drone transfers, exports, imports and usage – and no major forum to discuss drones, as the technology continues to evolve.

Multiple drones can communicate with each other remotely, creating shared objectives rather than an individual drone path or pattern. Like a swarm of bees, these drones form a deadly and autonomous aerial army ripe for accidents.

With the advent of artificial intelligence and more sophisticated unmanned aerial vehicles, drones can change speed, altitude and targeting in seconds, making them even more difficult to track and investigate. Attacks can happen seemingly out of the blue.

In my view, the world needs new and consistent rules on drone usage for the decade ahead – better international monitoring of drone incursions and more transparency in the outcome of drone attacks.

Information about the impact of military use of drones is not just important for historical purposes, but also to engage societies in action and temper the impulse to engage in conflict. It is time to talk seriously about drones.

Tara Sonenshine, Edward R. Murrow Professor of Practice in Public Diplomacy, Tufts University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Along with the recent reciprocal drone strikes by Iran and the United States in Syria, Russia continues to unleash its arsenal on Ukrainian civilian and military targets alike. While the Russian armies have started using outdated weapons, novel technologies remain the objects of fascination on the battlefield.

Hypersonic missiles and nuclear weapons have understandably grabbed media attention. However, drone warfare continues to occupy a central role in the conflict.

Ukraine’s not the only battlefield. Drone warfare has played a significant role in the Azerbaijan-Armenian conflict, with Armenia’s superior conventional forces being challenged by the kamikaze drones, strike UAVs and remotely controlled planes of Azerbaijan. A world away, China’s drones continue to test Taiwan’s defensive capabilities and readiness.

Drones are not the only weapons. As the global Summit on Responsible AI in the Military Domain (REAIM) illustrates, there is a growing recognition that lethal autonomous weapons systems (LAWS) pose a threat that must be reckoned with.

Understanding this threat requires grasping the psychological, social and technological challenges they present.

Killing and psychological distance

Psychology is at the heart of all conflicts. Whether in terms of perceived existential or territorial threats, individuals band together in groups to make gains or avoid losses.

A reluctance to kill stems from our perceived humanity and membership in the same community. By turning people into statistics and dehumanizing them, we further dull our moral sense.

LAWS remove us from the battlefield. As we distance ourselves from human suffering, lethal decisions become easier. Research has demonstrated that distance is also associated with more antisocial behaviours. When viewing potential targets from drone-like perspectives, people become morally disengaged.

Autonomy, intelligence differ

Many modern weapons rely on artificial intelligence (AI), but not all forms of AI are autonomous. Autonomy and intelligence are two distinct characteristics.

Photo by Ricardo Gomez Angel on Unsplash

Autonomy has to do with control over specific operations. A weapons system might gather information and identify a target autonomously, while firing decisions are left to human operators. Alternatively, a human operator might decide on a target, releasing a self-guided weapon to target and detonate autonomously.

Autonomous weapons are not new to warfare. In the sea, self-propelled torpedos and naval mines have been in use since the mid-1800s. On the ground, elementary land mines have given way to autonomous turrets.

In the air, Nazi Germany wielded V1 and V2 rockets and radio-controlled munitions. Heat-seeking and laser-guided precisions followed by the 1960s and were used by the U.S. in Vietnam. By the 1990s, the era of “smart weapons” was upon us, bringing with it questions of our ethical obligations.

Contemporary LAWS have been framed as the “natural evolutionary path” of warfare. We can draw parallels between single drones and smart weapons, although drone swarms represent a new kind of weapon.

The ability to co-ordinate their actions gives them the potential to overwhelm human forces. The degree of co-ordination, in fact, requires a higher level of autonomy. If the swarm is sufficiently large, a single human operator could not hope to maintain sufficient situational awareness to control it.

By ceding lethal decisions to LAWS, their accuracy and reliability become paramount concerns.

Accuracy and accountability

The potential for reduced human error is often used to recommend LAWS. While an actuarial approach to AI ethics is hardly the best or only way to make moral decisions about AI, reliable data is essential to judge the accuracy and improve the operations of LAWS. However, it is often lacking.

A review of U.S. drone strikes over a 15-year period suggested that only about 20 per cent of more than 700 strikes were acknowledged by the government, with an estimated 400 civilian casualties.

In the early stages of the Russian invasion of Ukraine, reports suggested that Ukrainians destroyed about 85 per cent of the drones launched against them. In the most recent attacks, they have destroyed more than 75 per cent of the drones.

These statistics might suggest drones aren’t particularly effective. But the minimal cost and large numbers of drones mean that even if a small proportion of the weapons are successful, the damage and casualties can be significant.

When assigning responsibility, we have to consider who manufactures these weapons. They are not always homegrown. Drones used by Russia in the Ukrainian conflict hail from China and Iran.

Inside these drones, many parts come from western manufacturers. Understanding responsibility and accountability in conflicts requires that we consider the international supply chains that enable LAWS.

Can LAWS be outlawed?

Whether LAWS represent a unique threat to human rights that must be banned — like landmines — or otherwise controlled by international laws, there is widespread agreement that we must re-evaluate existing approaches to regulation.

REAIM’s work is not alone in attempting to regulate LAWS. The United Nations, multilateral proposals and countries like the U.S. and Canada have all developed, proposed or are reviewing the sufficiency of existing standards.

These efforts face an array of practical issues. In many cases, the principles are framed as best practices and viewed as voluntary rather than being enforceable. States might also be reluctant in order to ensure consistency with their allies.

Treaties and regulations also create social dilemmas — just as they do when contemplating cyberweapons, nations must decide whether they adhere to the rules while others develop superior capabilities.

Even if LAWS are wholly or partially banned, there is still considerable room for interpretation and rationalization.

In July 2022, Russia said responsibility lies with their operators and that LAWS can “reduce the risk of intentional strikes against civilians and civilian facilities” and support “missions of maintaining or restoring international peace and security … [in] compliance with international law.” These are hollow statements made by a hollow regime.

No matter how elegant the regulatory framework nor how straightforward the principles, adversarial nations are unlikely to abide by international agreements — especially knowing weapons like drones make it easier for soldiers psychologically removed from the realities of the battlefield to kill others.

As Russia’s war in Ukraine illustrates, by reframing conflicts, the use of LAWS can always be justified. Their ability to desensitize their users from the act of killing, however, must not be.

Jordan Richard Schoenherr, Assistant Professor, Psychology, Concordia University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Many Ukrainians are facing the prospect of a winter of power outages after about 30% of the country’s power stations were knocked out in just over a week. The deputy head of the president’s office, Kyrylo Tymoshenko, has warned that the country needs to be prepared for “a hard winter”.

It has been reported that a great deal of this damage is being inflicted by Shahed-136 “kamikaze” drones, acquired by Russia from Iran in recent weeks. On Monday October 17 alone, Russia launched 43 Shahed drones at Kyiv, killing four civilians as the focus of Russia’s attacks turned again to Ukraine’s cities.

Ukraine’s power and water infrastructure has been the most common target in recent days. Iran’s drones have a proven track record in this respect, having reportedly been used by Houthi rebels to strike at oil facilities in Saudi Arabia in 2019.

But drones have been deployed in numbers by both sides since the beginning of the war. The Turkish Baykar Bayraktar TB2 was used effectively in the first months to destroy Russian artillery systems and armoured vehicles. TB2s are the size of a small plane with a range of 300km and a flight ceiling of 7,500 metres. They rapidly acquired an almost mystical aura for Ukraine’s soldiers who composed songs in their honour.

BAYRAKTAR-Official Song (english)

But TB2s are expensive – about US$2 million (£1.78 million) each – compared with kamikaze drones which are available for US$20,000 (£17,800) each. And in a war in which neither side has gained control of the sky, these large drones are likely to be shot down by the adversary’s air defences, which disqualifies TB2s from more extensive use on cost grounds.

Another of the large drones is the Mohajer-6, also supplied by Iran (although it should be noted that Iran has consistently denied supplying drones to Russia for use in Ukraine). Ukrainian forces recently captured a Mohajer-6, which has a maximum flight speed of 200kmh, a ceiling of 5,400 metres and can fly for 12 hours.

Closer inspection can allow the Ukrainian defenders to work out the best way to counter these weapons. The fact that Russia appears increasingly to be relying on cheap Iranian drones also suggests a diminished capacity to produce its own Orion armed drone, which saw action in Syria.

‘Loitering munitions’

But it is the relatively radar-immune, low-flying Shahed drones that have attracted headlines recently. These are what is known as “loitering munitions” – so-called because they can wait in the air to identify the target before smashing into it. Hence the nickname, kamikaze drones.

Ukraine has been using several types of loitering munition since the start of the conflict. These include the RAM II, a Ukrainian-designed-and-manufactured drone with a range of 30km and a weapons payload of 3kg, which the Ukrainian public crowdfunded US$9.5 million to acquire in recent weeks. There is also the ST-35 Silent Thunder, which has a 3.5kg payload and can also attack targets within a range of 30km.

Ukraine also acquired hundreds of US Switchblade 300 drones in March, which are small and light enough to fit in a backpack and have a range of 15km and a payload of just under 3kg.

In addition to the Iranian drones, Russia has been deploying its catapult-launched Lancet drone, which has a payload of 3kg and was used in Syria with devastating results. They also have the KUB-BLA, one of which was recovered in Kyiv in March – prompting speculation it was deployed as part of an assassination attempt on Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelensky. The KUB is hard to detect and has a payload of 1kg of ball bearings – a classic anti-personnel weapon.

But the Shahed-136 offers Russia a different capability, with its 2,000km range giving the ability to strike targets much deeper into Ukrainian territory. Deployed in large numbers, Russia can use a rudimentary swarming tactic to try to overwhelm Ukrainian air defences.

So are these drones a gamechanger?

To call these kamikaze drones “gamechangers” in the war in Ukraine would be to overstate their significance. While they keep a low profile on radars and are relatively cheap, they remain dependent on Russian military intelligence to guide them towards targets.

They are also, according to Ukrainian reports, vulnerable to being shot down due to their low sophistication and relatively slow airspeed of about 118mph. Ukraine claims to have shot down more than 80% of the drones deployed against Kyiv this week.

The Guardian: “Ukraine police appear to shoot down Russian drone

Iranian drones are relatively low-tech and guided by a civilian GPS system which can be jammed. Ukraine has acquired Polish SKY CTRL drone jammers, although these have a range of only 10km. To improve Ukraine’s anti-drone defence, Nato defence ministers recently agreed to provide hundreds of drone jammers. The US has also promised to speed up delivery of the more powerful Switchblade 600 drone, which has a range of up to 90km.

For both sides in this conflict, drones have been most effective in a less sensational, enabling function. By providing cheap “eyes in the sky”, they improve the precision of artillery fire and increase situational awareness to the level of a foot soldier. In this way, drones have effectively changed the operational tempo of artillery assault from about half an hour (using traditional means of target acquisition) to just three-to-five minutes.

But drones on their own will not give either side a decisive advantage in winning this war. The bulk of the fighting and occupation of territory will still be done by soldiers in armoured vehicles.

However, drone attacks seem to maintain psychological pressure, undermining the morale of the military and civilians alike. And being able to strike at people and infrastructure hundreds of kilometres behind the actual lines of contact in effect offers Russia a new “front”. Ukraine’s defence chiefs must redouble their efforts to secure adequate defensive technology to ensure that this threat is quickly countered.

Dominika Kunertova, Senior Researcher, Center for Security Studies, ETH Zurich, Swiss Federal Institute of Technology Zurich

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

The war in Ukraine is helping one country achieve its foreign policy and national security objectives, but it’s neither Russia nor Ukraine.

It’s Iran.

That was starkly clear on the morning of Oct. 17, 2022, as Iranian-made drones attacked civilian targets in Ukraine’s capital, Kyiv. Russia used the Iranian drones to inflict damage on Ukraine’s national energy company headquarters, and the drones also killed four civilians.

Iran is among Russia’s most vocal supporters in the war. As a military analyst who specializes in Iranian national security strategy, I see this having little to do with Ukraine and everything to do with Iran’s long-term strategy vis-à-vis the United States.

As Russia’s war on Ukraine passed six months and continued eroding Russia’s manpower, military stores, economy and diplomatic connections, leader Vladimir Putin opted for an unlikely but necessary Iranian lifeline to salvage victory in Ukraine and also in Syria where, since 2015, Russian soldiers have been fighting to keep Bashar al-Assad’s government in power.

And at a time when the Islamic Republic of Iran’s government is facing growing citizen protests against its autocratic rule, Putin’s move has, in turn, helped Iran make progress in promoting its national interests, as defined by its leadership.

Opposing the US everywhere

Since the Islamic Revolution of 1979, Iran’s leaders have believed the United States is constantly scheming to topple Iran’s government. They view leaders in Washington as the greatest threat and obstacle to promoting Iranian national interests – achieving economic self-sufficiency, international legitimacy, regional security, power and influence.

The fears of Iran’s leaders are not irrational – the long history of U.S. meddling in Iranian affairs, continuous open hostility between the two countries and decades of U.S. military buildup in close proximity to Iran greatly concern leaders in Tehran.

The U.S. has military forces in many Middle Eastern countries, with or without invitation. To promote its national interests, Iran is working to force the U.S. military out of the region and reduce U.S. political influence there.

Iran has an even bigger aim: to overthrow what it sees as the U.S.-dominated global political order.

Iran counters U.S. influence by maintaining partnerships with an assortment of nonstate militias and governments united by their fierce anti-U.S. hostility. The country nurtures a network of militant partner and proxy groups, whose own political preferences and ambitions align with Iran’s objectives, by providing weapons, training, funds – and, in some cases, direction. Among the recipients are Hezbollah, Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad, friendly Iraqi militias and Ansar Allah in Yemen, better known as the Houthis or the Houthi rebels.

Through these militias and their political arms, Iran extends its influence and works to shape an Iran-friendly government in states like Lebanon, Syria, Iraq and Yemen. It threatens U.S. forces and antagonizes Western-allied governments in states such as Israel, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Bahrain and the United Arab Emirates.

At the national level, Iran maintains no permanent mutual defense treaties. Its closest strategic partners include Syria, Venezuela, North Korea, China and Russia. They cooperate politically, economically and militarily to create an alternative to what their leaders perceive as the U.S.-led world political order.

That cooperation includes undermining U.S. national interests and helping ease or circumvent Western political pressure and economic sanctions.

Tehran to the rescue

Russia’s current war in Ukraine has left Moscow with only a handful of sympathetic friends.

Few political leaders understand Putin’s newfound political isolation and related animosity toward the United States more than Iranian leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. But Iran-Russia relations are complicated.

The two countries found common cause in helping Syrian strongman Assad defeat his country’s opposition forces, but for different national interests.

Saving Assad helps Russia reassert itself as a major power in the Middle East. For Iran, a friendly Syria is a critical link in Iran’s anti-U.S., anti-Israel coalition.

As Russia and Iran fought to sustain Assad, they also competed for lucrative postwar reconstruction and infrastructure contracts in that country, and to shape the post-civil war political environment to their advantage.

But neither country was bold enough to influence the way the other operated in Syria. Consequently, sometimes Iranian-backed and Russian forces cooperated, and at other times they squabbled. Mostly they left each other alone.

Ultimately, though, Russia’s plight in Ukraine compelled its leader to solicit Iran’s help in two ways.

First, the Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps, a branch of the Iranian military, provided supplementary manpower to fill the void left when Russia reallocated troops from Syria to its Ukraine campaign.

Second, Russia has used Iran’s low-cost and battle-proven unmanned aerial vehicles, commonly known as drones, to counter Kyiv’s Western-supported arsenal and buttress its own struggling forces and surprisingly inept warfighting capabilities.

In July, Iran hosted numerous Russian officers and conducted training on Iranian Shahed-129 and Shahed-191 drone operations. As of early August 2022, anonymous intelligence sources and Ukrainian officials indicated that Russia had obtained and used Iranian drones in Ukraine.

Since acquiring Iranian drones in early September, Russia has launched over 100 Iranian Shahed-136 and Mohajer-6 attack and reconnaissance drones in over a dozen attacks against a large range of targets: Ukrainian special forces, armor and artillery units, air defense and fuel storage facilities, Ukrainian military and energy infrastructure, civilian targets and a recent series of drone and missile attacks against Kyiv.

Russia is expected to soon rely on Iran further to supplant its dwindling weapons supplies by acquiring two types of Iranian-made short-range ballistic missiles for use in Ukraine, according to U.S. and allied security officials.

Ukraine war promotes Iran’s interests

This warming alliance may not help Russia defeat Ukraine. It will promote Iran’s national interests.

Russia’s Syria drawdown brought additional Iranian soldiers there to further prove their fighting abilities and entrench themselves in Syria. That then allows Iran to control territory threatened by anti-Assad forces and maintain an open corridor or “land bridge” by which Iran extends support to its network of anti-America and anti-Israel partners and proxies.

Russia’s acquisition of Iranian arms will significantly boost Iran’s weapons industry, whose primary clientele right now is its own militias. Iran’s recent efforts to expand drone manufacturing and exports yielded limited success in small, mostly peripheral markets of Ethiopia, Sudan, Tajikistan and Venezuela.

Moscow is the second-largest global arms exporter, and its surprising transformation to Iranian arms importer signals the seriousness of Russia’s problems. It also legitimizes and expands Tehran’s weapons industry beyond arms production for the purpose of self-sufficiency. This one alliance moves Iran toward a more prominent role as a major arms exporter.

Lastly, Russia’s war in Ukraine extends a new avenue by which Iran might directly counter U.S.-provided weapons, as well as the opportunity to undermine U.S. and NATO influence in Eurasia. Iran’s drones could afford Moscow an effective and desperately needed response to U.S. weapons wreaking havoc against Russian forces in Ukraine.

Iranian weapons may force Ukraine’s Western benefactors to allocate additional billions for counter-drone or air defense systems, or aid to replace assets that Iranian weapons potentially neutralize.

Zero-sum game

The introduction of Iranian ballistic missiles to Ukraine would compound the limited tactical victories scored by Iranian drones. They will bring further unnecessary suffering and prolong and further destabilize the war in Ukraine, but I don’t believe they will tip the scales of conflict in Russia’s favor.

Their greater contribution is to Iran’s national interests: They allow Iran to directly check and undermine the U.S. and NATO outside of Iran’s usual regional area of operations. They boost Iran’s profile among countries that also wish to challenge the United States and NATO’s political, military and economic power. And they strengthen solidarity among those countries.

As Iran’s fighters, advisers and weapons proliferate to new areas and empower U.S. adversaries, Iran further promotes its national interests at the expense of U.S. national interests.

This is an updated version of a story originally published Aug. 30, 2022.

Aaron Pilkington, US Air Force Analyst of Middle East Affairs, PhD Student at Korbel School of International Studies, University of Denver

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

( ProPublica ) – As countries around the globe add armed drones to their arsenals, federal lawmakers are pressing the Biden administration to investigate how U.S. parts and technology ended up in what has fast become one of the most popular models on the world market: Turkey’s TB2.

Manufactured by the Turkish firm Baykar Technology, the TB2 can hover high above a battlefield and strike targets with laser-guided missiles. Baykar has maintained that the TB2s are domestically produced, with nearly all of the parts coming from within Turkey. But, as ProPublica reported this month, wreckage from downed drones in multiple conflicts has shown otherwise. A range of components were made by manufacturers in the U.S., Canada and Europe.

To learn more, Rep. Tony Cárdenas, D-Calif., recently introduced an amendment to the House version of the National Defense Authorization Act. The annual budgeting bill is often an opportunity for lawmakers to require reports from the administration on pressing issues, and Cárdenas focused on the TB2, highlighting Azerbaijan’s deployment of the weapon in its 2020 war against neighboring Armenia over the disputed territory of Nagorno-Karabakh. Images of drone wreckage published by local media outlets and the Armenian military at the time showed parts that matched those made by several U.S.-based companies. Some of those firms told ProPublica they had taken steps to stop direct sales to Turkey, but others continue to sell key parts.

Turkey has ramped up TB2 exports in recent years. At least 14 countries now own the drones, and 16 others are seeking to purchase them.

“We’ve been paying close attention to Turkey’s drone sales and how these weapons have been deployed around the world,” Cárdenas told ProPublica in a statement. “I’m troubled about the destabilizing effects we’re seeing and the human rights concerns that follow, especially in places like Nagorno Karabakh. We need a full accounting of the role U.S manufactured parts are playing so that Congress can conduct proper oversight.”

If enacted, the legislation would require the Defense Department, in consultation with the State Department, to produce a report on U.S. parts in the TB2s used in the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict and any potential violations of export laws, sanctions or other regulations. Neither the Turkish Embassy in Washington nor Baykar Technology returned requests for comment for this story. Previously, when asked about the source of key components in its drones, Baykar did not respond to specific questions and would only say those queries were based on unspecified “false accusations.”

At issue are U.S. export laws. Typically, military parts are strictly controlled, requiring licenses from the State Department detailing their buyers and end uses. But many of the key components in the TB2 are commercial-grade technologies, which are found in a variety of consumer products and not subject to arms laws. And as a member of key global anti-arms compacts, Turkey can easily import the off-the-shelf parts, avoiding a web of sanctions and restrictions intended to curb the efforts of countries like Iran and China, which also operate drone programs.

Some critics have called on the Biden administration to crack down on Turkey. Other countries, including Canada, have previously instituted export bans to keep key parts from flowing. But for the U.S., experts say, there are a number of diplomatic considerations. Turkey is a long-standing NATO ally. And, more recently, the TB2 has emerged as a critical tool in places like Ukraine, where the country’s military has used it to battle Russian forces — a fact that the drone maker, Baykar, has repeatedly emphasized in media coverage of the conflict. “I think it is one of the symbols of resistance,” Selçuk Bayraktar, the firm’s chief technology officer, told CNN. “It gives them hope.”

Elsewhere, however, the TB2 is far less revered. In fact, it has been used to kill not just soldiers but civilians, drawing the ire of various governments and human rights groups.

In 2019, for example, Turkey sent the drones to the Tripoli-based Government of National Accord in Libya, despite a United Nations arms embargo. The U.N. said the weapon then helped transform a “low-intensity, low-technology” fight there into a bloody conflict. In Ethiopia, amid a war with rebels, the government used TB2s in airstrikes that have killed dozens of civilians, including those living in a camp for displaced people.

Biden administration officials raised concerns about drone use in the Ethiopia conflict with their Turkish counterparts but stopped short of taking action, despite an executive order authorizing them to impose sanctions against any party involved in the fighting.

This year’s National Defense Authorization Act reflects America’s tense relationship with Turkey. If signed into law, it would restrict the administration’s efforts to sell F-16 fighter jets to the country. Lawmakers cited a number of recent moves by Turkey, including its opposition to Finland and Sweden joining NATO. “How do you reward a nation that does all of those things,” Foreign Relations Committee Chair Sen. Robert Menendez, D-N.J., told Politico.

The House amendment on TB2s, introduced by Cárdenas and co-sponsored by 19 others, represents the second attempt in the past year to put the Turkish drone program on the White House’s radar.

Last year, lawmakers sought a similar mandate for a report on U.S. parts and technology used in the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. One version of the 2021 amendment, introduced by Menendez, called for a broad assessment of the TB2s, their sales since 2018 and U.S. parts used in them. The final version, however, was watered down. It did not name the Turkish drone or Turkey specifically, and it asked the Biden administration to look generally into American “weapon systems or controlled technology” used in the 2020 Azerbaijan-Armenia conflict. ProPublica found that the Turkish government had hired lobbyists to discuss the drones issue with lawmakers at the time.

Under the law, that report was due in June, but the Defense Department has yet to release it. A spokesperson told ProPublica this month that it was “out for final review with pertinent stakeholders.” The department did not respond to subsequent requests for an update on when that review would be complete.

To some administration critics, the delay is another indication of Turkey’s clout in Washington.

“Taking something off the shelf and using it to patch together a weapon might not technically cross a legal line, but it should be of concern,” said Aram Hamparian, executive director of the Armenian National Committee of America, a pro-Armenia lobbying group that has called for a range of measures against Turkey. “It should be addressed as part of our general U.S.-Turkey relationship, and I’m not sure it is. I think they get a free pass on it.”

The Senate is expected to finalize its version of the National Defense Authorization Act in the coming months.

—
Umar Farooq is an Ancil Payne Fellow with ProPublica.

Via ProPublica

( ProPublica) – Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed was in a tough spot last August when he paid a visit to Turkey. For nearly a year, his government had been at war with rebels from the Tigray People’s Liberation Front, which was now pushing south from its stronghold near the Eritrean border and threatening to move on the country’s capital of Addis Ababa. Thousands had already been killed, and the United States and the United Nations had accused all the warring parties of blockading aid, committing sexual assault and deliberately targeting civilians.

With only a small, aging fleet of Soviet-era military jets, Abiy needed a way to quickly — and cheaply — expand his air campaign against the rebels. Turkey had just the solution: a military drone known as the TB2 that could be piloted from nearly 200 miles away. China and Iran also supplied drones, but the TB2, outfitted with cutting-edge technology, had fast become the new favorite of the world’s embattled nations, helping to win wars even when it was pitted against major powers.

On Aug. 18, Abiy met Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan to sign a military pact. It’s unclear whether drones were part of the agreement. But two days after the signing, publicly available flight records showed that an Ethiopian Airlines charter flight took off from Tekirdağ, an hour’s drive west of Istanbul, at an airstrip known for testing and exporting the Turkish drones. It was the first of at least three such runs over roughly a month, the records show. Neither the Turkish nor the Ethiopian governments responded to questions about the flights, but officials in Turkey have previously acknowledged drone sales to Ethiopia.

Within months, Turkish-made drones, as well as ones made by China and Iran, hovered over crowded town centers across rebel-held Ethiopia, watching those below before launching missiles at them. News seeped out of towns like Alamata and Mlazat that the drones’ missiles were killing not just suspected rebels but dozens of people, many of them civilians, as they rode buses or shopped in markets. Human rights groups took note of armed drones in the skies and examined images of missile fragments from airstrikes to try to identify exactly what aircraft were involved, hoping that publicly naming their origin would prompt the sellers to reconsider their actions.

As the death toll mounted, the Biden administration, which had authorized sanctions against any party involved in the fighting, said it had “profound humanitarian concerns” over Turkey’s drone sales to Ethiopia. And U.S. officials meeting with their Turkish counterparts raised reports of drone use in the conflict. But there the warnings stopped. Unlike its decisive actions targeting drone programs in China and Iran, Washington took no further action against the program in Turkey, a NATO ally.

So the Ethiopian air campaign continued, including a strike by a Turkish-made drone on a camp for displaced civilians in Dedebit that killed 59 people and attracted widespread condemnation. The bloodshed again drew a rebuke from the U.S., this time directed at Ethiopia. President Joe Biden called Abiy and “expressed concern that the ongoing hostilities, including recent air strikes, continue to cause civilian casualties and suffering,” according to a White House summary of the conversation. Little changed, and by late February, about six months after Abiy’s visit to Turkey, at least 304 civilians were dead from airstrikes, according to the U.N.

The Ethiopian government did not respond to requests for comment, but authorities have previously denied targeting civilians in the war.

Today, much of the discussion around the TB2 drone centers on Ukraine, where it is playing a pivotal role in the war against Russia. Ukraine has put out a steady stream of propaganda videos that show TB2s taking out equipment like surface-to-air missiles and helping other aircraft and artillery target Moscow’s forces. Some lawmakers in Congress have even cast the drone as a crucial weapon and are pushing for the U.S. to help Ukraine buy more. In Lithuania, a recent crowdfunding campaign raised $5.4 million in three and a half days to help Ukraine purchase another TB2.

But the public relations blitz obscures growing concerns around the world about Turkey and the proliferation of a weapon that is changing the nature of modern warfare. At least 14 countries now own TB2s, and another 16 are seeking to purchase them. The technology offers even the smallest militaries the capacity to inflict the kind of damage that was once the exclusive province of wealthy, Western nations, and Turkey seems eager to expand global sales of the weapon.

“They are a game changer,” said Richard Speier, a former Defense Department official who drafted and negotiated a key international agreement that now governs the sale of armed drones. “It’s going to be necessary to take account of them and put a lot of effort in dealing with the drone problem … [because] you can do things on a small budget that you couldn’t do before.”

Amid the criticism, Turkish officials, along with the drone maker itself, Baykar Technology, have defended the TB2 as a critical tool for developing nations and embattled democracies like Ukraine. The drone “is doing what it was supposed to do — taking out some of the most advanced anti-aircraft systems and advanced artillery systems and armored vehicles,” Selçuk Bayraktar, the firm’s chief technology officer, told Reuters in May. “The whole world is a customer.”

Officials tout the drone as the product of Turkish industry, with nearly all of its components coming from within Turkey. But time and again, wreckage from downed drones in multiple conflicts have shown otherwise. In fact, a whole range of components — from antennas to fuel pumps to missile batteries — were made by manufacturers in the U.S., Canada and Europe, according to images of wreckage examined by ProPublica and statements by companies, some of whom have acknowledged sales to Turkey.

Some lawmakers have called on the Biden administration to pressure Turkey to restrict sales of the drone by suspending exports of U.S. technology that could be used in the uncrewed aircraft. They argue that the drones and their missiles are sparking more instability around the world, and, in some cases, violating American and international arms embargoes meant to contain wars like the conflict in Ethiopia.

“Turkey’s drone sales are dangerous, destabilizing and a threat to peace and human rights,” said Sen. Robert Menendez last year, as he pushed for an investigation into whether U.S. exports are being used in the Turkish drones. “The U.S. should have no part of it.” Menendez’s office did not respond to a request for comment for this story.

It’s unclear, though, whether the Biden administration will take any further action. A spokesperson for the State Department declined to answer questions for this story, providing only a general statement about arms sales. “We encourage all countries to abide by U.N. arms embargoes, avoid arms transfers to persons who are sanctioned by the United States or the United Nations, and avoid destabilizing arms transfers,” it read.

To better understand how Western technology has made its way into Turkey’s armed drones, ProPublica reviewed videos and photos of TB2s released by media outlets and government agencies, as well as reports by the United Nations and anti-arms-proliferation advocates. The news organization then compiled a list of key parts and consulted with U.S. arms experts to check whether their sale violated export regulations. They did not. Many of the components in the TB2s were commercial-grade parts found in a variety of consumer products, such as HD video cameras or self-driving cars, so they evaded the strict regulatory scrutiny applied to military parts in the U.S.

Still, other countries, including Canada, have instituted export bans that have kept some key commercial parts from flowing to Turkey. And experts say the U.S., if it chose to, could take similar measures at home and step up enforcement abroad.

Cameron Hudson, former Director for African Affairs on the National Security Council, compared the impact of drones like TB2s to the Stinger missile, the shoulder-fired weapons the U.S. distributed to mujahedeen fighters in Afghanistan in the 1980s to repel Soviet forces, then spent decades trying to recover.

“As the technology continues to improve, as they become cheaper, as they become more mobile and portable, as you need less infrastructure to operate them, they modernize conflict around the world,” he said.

The U.S. demonstrated the lethal power of armed drones in the George W. Bush and Barack Obama administrations, when officials used them for targeted killings in places like Iraq and Afghanistan. Since then, international regulators have largely focused on policing sales of larger models, like the Predator and Reaper drones used by the American military. Their primary enforcement tool: the Missile Technology Control Regime, an agreement developed toward the end of the Cold War that today has 35 signatories, including the U.S., Russia and Turkey. The pact calls on members not to sell so-called Category 1 systems, technology designed to carry missiles long distances and deliver nuclear, chemical or biological payloads.

Thus far, proliferation experts say the agreement has succeeded in stemming the flow of those kinds of weapons. But, they added, it has failed to capture the rising development of smaller drones, like the TB2.

In the last decade, China has developed its own drones and marketed them to developing countries, while Iran has expanded its drone program to help fight its proxy wars in Syria and Yemen. Israel also runs a major export operation — including surveillance and so-called kamikaze drones — though experts say the country officially restricts the sale of drones capable of firing missiles.

Turkey supercharged its own efforts after the U.S. declined to sell the country armed drones. U.S. officials were concerned about potential human rights violations, as Turkish officials planned to use the weapons in conflicts with Kurdish insurgents, said Vann Van Diepen, who helped oversee nonproliferation programs at the State Department until 2016.

The turning point came in 2015 when Bayraktar, an MIT-educated engineer who ran an armed drone program out of his father’s defense manufacturing firm in Istanbul, debuted the TB2. Using a Turkish-made missile, he held a demonstration to show that the drone could hit a target from miles away. Bayraktar, who would later marry Erdoğan’s daughter, touted the TB2s as a way for Turkey to become a global superpower without relying on U.S. drones.

For Baykar and its customers, the design had a key feature: The 40-foot-wide, 20-foot-long drone can be controlled from ground stations up to 185 miles away, just below the range that’s subject to Category 1 missile technology restrictions. The drone also has plenty of high-tech firepower. From an altitude of 18,000 feet, where it can hover for more than 24 hours, the TB2 can find and track targets, then hit them with laser-guided weapons, usually a lightweight missile called an MAM-L, made by the Turkish manufacturer Roketsan.

Bayraktar portrayed the drones as a Turkish success story, designed, manufactured and armed by Turkish companies. But it wasn’t long before people searching through the wreckage of downed drones discovered that the TB2s relied on imported parts.

In 2020, for example, amid a conflict between Azerbaijan and Armenia, images published by local media outlets and the Armenian Ministry of Defense showed parts with identifying information that matched those sold by manufacturers in other countries, including the U.S. Hardware that allowed the drones to receive GPS signals from satellites was made by Trimble, headquartered in Sunnyvale, California. The drone’s engine was made in Austria by Bombardier Recreational Products, based out of Quebec, Canada. A sophisticated, programmable microchip was made by San Jose, California-based Xilinx. The drone’s camera, perhaps the most important TB2 component, was made by Wescam, a Canadian subsidiary of L3Harris, based in Melbourne, Florida.

In the wake of the revelations, several companies, including Trimble, Bombardier and Xilinx, issued statements saying they were surprised to learn their products were being used in the conflict and had taken steps to ensure their parts no longer ended up in Baykar’s drones.

But today, key parts continue to be sourced from manufacturers based in Western countries. The German company Hensoldt, for example, told ProPublica it supplies one version of the drone’s camera. And video of TB2 strikes in Ukraine, along with Canadian export records, show the drones there still use the camera made by Wescam, according to researchers at Project Ploughshares, a Canadian anti-arms-trade nonprofit that tracks the proliferation of military technology. L3Harris, Wescam’s parent company, did not answer questions for this story, but said it “fully supports and adheres to all government export regulations applicable to our products and services used by the U.S., its allies and partners.”

Baykar declined to respond to questions about the source of key components in its drones or how it had obtained them. The company would only say that ProPublica’s questions were based on unspecified “false accusations.” In March, Bayraktar, the company’s CTO, said on social media that “93%” of the components in the TB2s are locally made.

Baykar is not unique in its use of commercial parts for its drones; many of Iran’s and China’s globally marketed drones also use parts that are not necessarily intended for military purposes. But those countries must find ways around a web of U.S. sanctions and export restrictions, so they cannot simply buy parts directly from U.S. companies. Importers in Turkey, on the other hand, are not subject to such restrictions. The country is a NATO ally and a party not only to the missile technology agreement, but also to the Wassenaar Arrangement, a broader set of voluntary guidelines set by 42 participating states seeking to control the spread of dual-use technologies that could be used for weapons that destabilize the world. Those qualifications put Turkey on a government list of countries preapproved to import many of the commercial parts found in the TB2s.

Under U.S. rules, those components “would not be controlled,” said Kevin Wolf, who helped oversee the export of dual-use technologies in the Commerce Department until 2017. “You have to rely upon the Turkish government for regulating its export to embargoed or other countries of concern.”

Turkey began using, and perfecting, the TB2s in its own war on Kurdish insurgents — the same conflict for which the U.S. had refused to provide armed drones. From 2016 to 2019, authorities trumpeted their success in press releases about strikes that “rendered ineffective” more than 400 people in the Kurdish-majority southeast of the country, where the Kurdistan Workers’ Party, or PKK, was most active. In strikes both inside Turkey and across the border in northern Syria and Iraq, the TB2s delivered massive losses to the PKK, effectively putting an end to its ability to launch attacks.

But by 2018, this posed problems for U.S. forces, which were relying on the same PKK-linked fighters in the battle against the Islamic State group in the region.

Although Turkey’s actions, including its drone strikes, did not ultimately keep the U.S. and the Kurds from defeating the group, they made the war, and its aftermath, far more complicated, said Gen. Michael Nagata, who headed U.S. Special Operations Command until 2015, then served as director of strategy for the National Counterterrorism Center until 2019.

With the proven success of its new tool, it soon became clear Turkey did not intend to keep the TB2s all to itself.

In 2019, Turkey sent TB2 drones, along with pilots to operate them, to Libya to help the Tripoli-based Government of National Accord in a complicated civil war it was fighting against Khalifa Haftar, a warlord backed by Russia, Jordan and Turkey’s regional enemies, Egypt and the United Arab Emirates. Haftar’s forces — which were themselves equipped with Chinese Wing Loong drones provided by the UAE — had mounted a major assault that threatened Tripoli, but the TB2s helped push them back.

But by supplying drones and other weapons, Turkey, as well as Jordan and the UAE, broke a U.N. arms embargo that was meant to keep the Libyan civil war from escalating, the U.N. would later say in a scathing 548-page report. The U.N. singled out the Chinese and Turkish drones — which carried out more than 1,000 strikes in the battle over Tripoli — saying they transformed the situation from “a low-intensity, low-technology conflict” into a bloody war that, by the World Health Organization’s count, killed more than a thousand people, including about 100 civilians.

The Turkish Foreign Ministry did not respond to a request for comment for this story, including on the U.N.’s finding that Turkey broke the arms embargo on Libya. Jordan and the UAE have said they are committed to complying with the U.N. arms embargo.

Alarmed by the U.N.’s findings, Congress called for the White House to put forth a comprehensive strategy for countering the destabilizing influence of foreign powers in 2020. Senators at the time even wrote to the State Department asking it to “press the UAE, Russia, Turkey, and Jordan to halt all transfers of military equipment and personnel to Libya.”

But the White House did not take action against Turkey, or any of the other countries, over Libya. And when Azerbaijan looked to retake the long-disputed territory of Nagorno-Karabakh from its neighbor Armenia in 2020, Turkey sold its allies, the Azeris, TB2 drones. The TB2s allowed Azerbaijan to quickly control the skies and decisively win the war in just six weeks. Videos of the TB2 drone strikes became ubiquitous propaganda, put out daily by the Azerbaijan defense ministry. Some clips played on giant screens set up in public squares in the capital, Baku.

Nagata, the former special forces commander, said Libya and Nagorno-Karabakh should have been a wake-up call for the U.S. military, which was surprised when the TB2s “literally turned the tide of war there.” Beyond the strategic implications though, it should have also worried U.S. policymakers because it showed how quickly the drones were proliferating, Nagata said. “It is a harbinger of things to come, that this is going to expand beyond Turkey,” he said. “If Turkey can do this, any country with some sort of industrial manufacturing base can do this.”

Indeed, while the U.S. has focused on keeping its most advanced systems under control, Turkey, China and Israel have made hefty profits selling their own drones, which are less-sophisticated but often effective, said Max Hoffman, a former adviser to the U.N. and the House Armed Services Committee.

“The Israelis and the Chinese, and now the Turks, have really not caught up fully [to the U.S.], but exploited that middle and down market that the U.S. had let go,” Hoffman said. “And obviously Turkey has not had many scruples in who they sell the drones to.”

Some of Turkey’s other NATO allies, including Canada, did take action, curtailing defense exports in 2019 after a Turkish incursion into northern Syria threatened to disrupt the fight against the Islamic State group.

Publicly, Turkish officials shrugged off the trade restrictions, saying the country had enough of an industrial base that it could produce what it needed on its own. But in private, Turkish officials, as well as the drone maker Baykar, pushed Canada to allow the sale of a key part: the MX-15 imaging and targeting system, which was made by Wescam. The company had received public funding from Canada, including a $75 million grant in 2015, to develop such a system. Upgraded versions of the MX-15 have been used over the years by the Predator and Reaper, and by a number of other systems by NATO partners.

The Turkish Foreign Minister told his Canadian counterpart the MX-15 would only be used on drones intended for protecting civilians in Syria against Russian attacks, and the Turkish defense ministry told Canada it would not export the cameras to any third party.

But six months later, the TB2s showed up in Azerbaijan, with Baku’s propaganda drone strike videos clearly indicating the MX-15s were being used there. Photos of crashed drones, taken by Armenian forces and posted on social media, showed that the cameras had been made in Canada as late as June 2020. This time the Trudeau government undertook a larger review, and in October 2020 it suspended all existing export permits that had allowed Wescam to ship the cameras to Turkey. Canadian officials said Turkey appeared to have broken the U.N. arms embargo on Libya and illegally exported the TB2s with the Canadian MX-15 camera system to Azerbaijan, in violation of its pledges. (L3Harris, Wescam’s parent company, did not respond to questions about the Canadian actions. At the time, Wescam declined to comment on the Armenian photographs, but it confirmed for Canadian officials that it had sold MX-15s to Turkey under a preexisting permit.)

Less than two weeks later, though, in an apparent bid to keep the parts flowing, Erdoğan called Trudeau and surprised him by putting Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy on the phone. Canadian documents, released as part of an inquiry by lawmakers, show the call’s agenda included the export permits. At the time, Ukraine was seeking to add more TB2 drones to its military arsenal.

In 2020, lawmakers in Germany were also pressing to limit the Turkish drone program, said Andrej Hunko, a member of the Bundestag from the Left Party.

Hunko, who had been outspoken over the years about the U.S. drone program, joined lawmakers from the Green Party in asking the government to explain weapons sales to Turkey that they believed were connected to the TB2 drones. The government confirmed that German defense manufacturer TDW had exported missiles and parts to Turkey while another German firm, Numerics, had sold software. Hunko said he and his colleagues concluded that those sales had helped influence the design of the Turkish MAM-L missiles used by the TB2s. TDW did not answer questions for this story, but referred to a statement it made in 2020, which said it had not sold parts to Turkey since 2019. The statement also said TDW has never had “a relationship for a delivery or supply for the Bayraktar TB2 drone or its armament.” Numerics did not respond to a request for comment.

But Hunko soon found a more direct link after Baykar posted photos of its drone from a military parade in Turkmenistan. The images appeared to show ARGOS II cameras from German manufacturer Hensoldt, which later confirmed it had sold the equipment to Turkey for drones, undercutting Baykar’s claims that it used only local parts. Hensoldt told ProPublica it continues to supply the ARGOS II for Baykar’s TB2 drones. The camera, it said, “is developed by Hensoldt’s South African subsidiary and contains no parts that would fall under German export control law.”

Anti-arms activists in the United Kingdom had previously made a similar discovery when they analyzed wreckage of downed drones in 2020. The TB2s had used a missile rack that came from U.K. firm EDO MBM Technology, another subsidiary of Florida-based L3Harris, despite Baykar’s claims of local sourcing.

Hunko and other opposition lawmakers in Germany ultimately called for halting exports of key drone parts, but the government did not take any such action. Hunko said his concerns continue, prompted not only by Turkey’s own use of drones in the region, but also by what they mean for warfare in general. “It’s not like if you send [manned] military planes,” he said. “It’s lowering the threshold for entering into a war.”

The issue hit Washington’s political radar in November 2020, after a report from the Armenian National Committee of America (ANCA), a pro-Armenia lobbying group that has pushed for tougher action against Turkey. The report contained evidence that TB2 parts, found in wreckage of drones shot down by Armenian forces in the Nagorno-Karabakh war, had come from U.S.-based firms.

ANCA and other groups critical of Turkey mobilized supporters to write to parts manufacturers, winning pledges from many that they would stop selling to Baykar Technology. Six U.S.-based manufacturers whose parts showed up in the TB2 drones responded to ProPublica, confirming that they had taken steps to stop direct sales to Turkey of parts that could be used by Baykar for the drones. But experts said it was probably difficult to stop Turkey from acquiring the parts through distributors and resellers on the open market.

That dynamic exposes how U.S. laws, which were crafted decades ago to police parts that had an obvious military purpose, fall short in the modern era. For instance, the U.S. Munitions List — which designates certain materials as defense-related, meaning they require licenses from the State Department detailing their buyers and end uses — contains things like flamethrowers and the chemicals needed to make C4 explosives. But other technologies, including those used on the TB2 drones, appear instead on another list, known as the Commerce Control List. Overseen by the Commerce Department, these parts do not usually require prior authorization for sales.

In August 2021, a bipartisan group of 27 members of Congress pressed the Biden administration to take action, saying Turkey was using U.S. technology to fuel drone proliferation around the globe. “Turkish actions have continued to run contrary to its responsibilities as a NATO member state,” the lawmakers wrote in a letter. “​​The potential for these drones to further destabilize flashpoints in the Caucuses, South Asia, the Eastern Mediterranean, the Middle East, and North Africa is too great to ignore.”

The group asked the State Department to assess whether Turkey was violating existing sanctions or NATO rules. They also pressed for a suspension of exports of U.S. technology that could be used in the TB2s, a step the administration hasn’t taken.

In November 2021, Menendez, the chair of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, followed up by proposing an amendment to the 2022 National Defense Authorization Act. The measure mandated that the Biden administration investigate whether any U.S. exports since 2018 had been used in the Turkish drones and whether that use, and their reexport to other countries, violated U.S. law.

“This amendment is a recognition that we must prevent U.S. parts from being included in these Turkish weapons,” he said in a statement at the time. Menendez’s office did not respond to a request for comment for this story.

Turkey pushed back. At the same time that lawmakers were calling on the Biden administration to crack down, the Turkish Embassy in Washington hired LB International Solutions on a ​​$544,998 contract to lobby on its behalf with Congress, according to Foreign Agents Registration Act filings. The firm in turn paid D.C. lobbyist Mark W. Murray $35,000 for setting up more than a dozen meetings with members of Congress, including those on the Senate and House Foreign Affairs Committees. Among the items on the agenda: drone sales to Ukraine. Murray declined to answer questions for this story, saying, “I no longer work for LB International on Turkey.” He referred ProPublica to the lobbying firm, which did not respond to a request for comment.

In the end, the final defense bill, passed in December 2021, did not reference Turkish drones specifically, but still required the Biden administration to report to Congress within 180 days on whether U.S. “weapon systems or controlled technology” were used in the Nagorno-Karabakh war. A spokesperson for the Defense Department, which is tasked with leading that review, said that the department was working on finalizing the report and had not yet delivered it to Congress.

The war in Ukraine, however, has since softened some of the criticism. Much like Azerbaijan did in 2020, Ukraine has produced propaganda videos of TB2 strikes on Russian forces, including a catchy song extolling the drones’ prowess on the battlefield. The drones, in turn, drew praise from some in Congress.

“We must find ways to quickly provide Ukraine with more armed drones, such as the Turkish TB-2, which has been very effective apparently,” said Republican Sen. Rob Portman, speaking on the Senate floor in March. Sen. Marco Rubio, a Republican who in 2019 criticized then-President Donald Trump for allowing Turkey to fight Kurdish groups in Syria, wrote on Twitter that Ukraine was “inflicting substantial damage on Russia’s supply lines with Bayraktar TB2 Turkish made unmanned combat aerial vehicles.” Rubio, who sits on the Foreign Relations Committee, declined to comment for this story. Portman’s staff did not respond to a request for comment.

“Everybody in NATO is now looking for ways to deter Putin and up the cost of further Russian military action in Ukraine, and the [Turkish] drones, as proven on the battlefield, are one of the best ways to do that,” said Matthew Bryza, former U.S. ambassador to Azerbaijan.

Indeed, the war has prompted a major effort to arm Ukraine, even in countries that had previously sought to stop or slow drone proliferation.

Canada, for instance, announced in March that it was sending $50 million in lethal and nonlethal aid to Ukraine, including “Canadian-made cameras used in military drones and other specialized equipment” — the same MX-15 optical systems that it had banned from being exported to Turkey last year over human rights concerns. Even before the announcement, Project Ploughshares, the Canadian anti-arms-trade group, had concluded that Ukraine’s TB2s were using the cameras. The analysis was based in part on Canadian export records and Ukrainian video of drone strikes that show the MX-15’s distinctive overlay. Kelsey Gallagher, a researcher with the group, said the equipment had likely been exported to Ukraine instead of Turkey. Before the Russian invasion, Ukrainian officials had announced plans to set up a joint production facility with Baykar in the country.

Canada’s Global Affairs department forwarded questions for this story to the Department of National Defence, which did not respond.

The U.S. now faces a slippery diplomatic quandary: On one hand, the TB2s are aiding allies like Ukraine, which has used them to turn the tide against Russian forces. On the other hand, they are rapidly changing modern warfare, giving warring factions a way to kill quickly, cheaply and remotely.

Pakistan’s military, which the U.S. has long refused to sell drones to over concerns about the country’s nuclear weapons program, is now advertising the TB2s as a part of its arsenal.

And in Morocco, the Polisario Front, an opposition group in the disputed Western Sahara region, accused the Moroccan air force of deploying drones after a decades-old ceasefire broke down. The Moroccan government has not acknowledged possession of the Turkish drones, but in October 2021 Reuters reported that Turkey was negotiating a sales deal for TB2s with the country. By December, video taken by activists captured the drones in the skies, and local news reports showed fragments of Turkish MAM-L missiles that had reportedly been used in strikes. Neighboring Algeria denounced what it called “targeted killings committed with sophisticated weapons of war … against innocent civilians.” The Moroccan Foreign Ministry did not respond to a request for comment. Officials have previously denied targeting civilians.

Critics say the U.S. should find ways to slow the spread of Turkish drones.

“The proliferation of this kind of weaponized technology is unstoppable, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to at least create friction against it. And that’s a policy choice,” said Nagata, the former head of special operations.

Van Diepen, the former State official who helped oversee nonproliferation programs, said that if the Biden administration chose to take action, it could start by activating so-called end-use checks on key drone parts.

The State Department, for example, has staff in diplomatic missions abroad, including in Istanbul, tasked with carrying out on-site inspections of companies importing goods from the U.S. and ensuring that the products are not being diverted for other uses. The program, called Blue Lantern, focuses mostly on major sanctioned parties, groups like Islamic State, or entities linked to states like Iran. While the TB2 components from the U.S. are not directly controlled as military parts, the fact they were known to be used to build a military weapons system should have raised flags within the Defense, State and Commerce departments, former U.S. officials said.

Experts said the U.S. could also use other tools to slow the flow of parts to the drones. Last September, for example, the White House said it had the authority to penalize any party involved in the Ethiopia conflict. Van Diepen said the Biden administration could use that power to place Baykar Technology on a targeted sanctions list, making it illegal for U.S. companies to do business with the firm altogether.

The U.S. has taken similar measures against China and Iran, sanctioning Iranian companies and individuals for their involvement in Tehran’s armed drone program, and sanctioning Chinese-drone maker DJI for its role in surveillance of ethnic Uyhgurs in Xinjiang.

To some of the strongest critics of Turkey’s armed drones though, it appears there is little will in Washington to do more.

“Canada, they did the due diligence and took actions that haven’t happened here,” said Aram Hamparian, executive director of ANCA.

In the U.S., “it’s just business as usual. So then why even bother having these laws? And the answer to my question is: So we can use them conveniently when it advances some policy aim.”

Umar Farooq is an Ancil Payne Fellow with ProPublica.

Via ProPublica

Featured Image: This file comes from the website of the news agency of the Ministry of Defense of Ukraine and is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. Attributed to armyinform.com.ua. H/t Wikimedia.