Part I
Opening Argument
Chapter 1
More Heat Than Light
The Vexing Complexities of the Drone Debate
Bradley Jay Strawser
Unwarranted Confidence
āCynicism is what passes for insight among the mediocre.ā Joe Klein delivered this gem while discussing how difficult it has become for Washington journalists to write a positive story on a politician these days.1 Something similar could be said regarding the debate over the morality, legality, and prudence of our most recent weapon of war: the unmanned aerial drone. Critics and supporters alike tend to oversimplify the moral complexities that any reasonable assessment of drones should acknowledge. Worse, both critics and supporters often take a rigid position one way or the other with dronesāenthusiastic embrace or passionate condemnationāwithout admitting to the deep-seated moral tension found at the heart of this fractious issue. The overconfident claims of moral surety on either side of the drone debate should give us pause.
Perhaps such conclusions are understandable. After all, each side in the debate can lay claim to a piece of the truth about drones. Given the stakes, it makes sense that we find ourselves wanting to say somethingāto rightly shine a light on the tragedies wrought by drone warfare or to rightly praise a weapon that has the ability to be far more accurate than alternatives, thereby saving innocent lives. There is, however, a troubling paucity of consistent data on the drone strikes themselves and a considerable lack of transparency from the US government regarding its drone operations. Reaching an absolutist position on either side of the drone divide is thus both too quick and too simplistic given the issueās complexities and unknowns. When it comes to unmanned weapons, we far too often hear vociferous condemnation or unqualified justification, when nuance and an admittedly frustrating ambivalence would be more apt. For both critics and defenders of drones alike we could say, parsing Klein, that āoverconfidence is what passes for discernment among those who should be more apprehensive.ā
To highlight this difficulty, it worth noting that my own work on drones has been accused of falling into the very kind of one-sided certainty Iām here criticizing. This is because some have portrayed me as a staunch, unflinching defender of drones.2 But this is a false portrayal; I view myself as neither a prodrone advocate nor an antidrone detractor. This is because, again, any comprehensive position on drones must account for the many moral complexities, both good and bad, in both theory and practice, that this new weapon system portends.
The Difference between Policy and Principle
One cause of confusion in this debate stems from a failure to recognize a crucial distinction: the theoretical analysis of the morality of drones as separate from discourse over the morality of actual policies carried out today. Some complain that it is useless to investigate whether drones pose any intrinsic moral problems in the abstract, or have any inherent moral gains in theory, apart from how they are actually being used. As one commenter memorably put it, āAgreeing with the drone wars āin theoryā is like agreeing with the Iraq war āin theory.āā3 Rather, this view insists, we should look solely at the ways in which these weapons are presently being used, and base our moral conclusions on those facts alone. Nick Scott gives this kind of argument in his critique of my work. Writing for Foreign Policy, Scott argues that āthe abstract moral issues surrounding drone strikes are of no importance when divorced from the policy that calls for their usage. Without the context in which U.S. drone policy is executed, there is no meaningful framework through which to examine these abstract questions.ā4
But is Scott mistaken? It seems not only that it is possible to do so but that there are good reasons to scrutinize drones distinct from their actual employment. I believe it would be rash to dismiss the importance of analyzing drones in the abstract and to instead focus only on present policy. I see at least three reasons why the present and future debate over lethal drones should maintain this distinction.
First, it is far more difficult to parse all thinking on drones through the lens of US drone operations because of the surprising lack of reliable information on said operations. Very little is known publicly about the details of US drone policyāparticularly how and on what basis lethal decisions are madeāand good, consistent data on the impacts of the drone strikes themselves is even harder to come by. With the empirical evidence we have for real-world drone operations being as weak as it is, it is wise to not place all our judgments on drones on such infirm ground.
A second reason it is a mistake to think that we must only grapple with the morality of drones within the framework of current US policy can be drawn from the history of warfare. It would be foolish to assume that drones will only ever be used in the way they are being used today, much less to think that they will only ever be used by the United States. Presuming then that these kinds of weapons are not going away, it is incumbent on us to think seriously about the morally relevant features of drones more broadly than merely how they are used in our present historical context. The reason for doing so is not only to apply those lessons to our present decisions but to predict the ways in which drones could be used in the future, for both good and bad.
Finally, Scottās view is mistaken for a third reason. If we believe that there are times when killing can be morally justified, then we are obligated to carry out such actions as justly as is possible. Given that imperative, it is clear that some means and methods of warfare are more just, or more morally objectionable, than others. It is therefore well worth exploring whether certain weapons pose special moral problems or have potential moral advantages, in theory, over alternative weapons. This is especially true for new weapons that have not yet received the scrutiny of history, as is the case with drones.
To help make this point, consider another means of war: nuclear weapons. These weapons have features intrinsic to their nature that make them morally problematic in principle. These include the fact that nukes are (for all realistic intents and purposes) impossible to use in accordance with traditional just war theory constraints. They are not precise weapons with which a just war fighter can discriminate between innocent civilians and enemy combatants. Rather, the massive scale of destruction this weapon delivers makes them intrinsically indiscriminate. Moreover, it is hard to see how unleashing this awesome force on the world could ever be a proportionate and necessary response to an injustice one hopes to block, once all the concomitant atrocities nuclear weapons bring with them are weighed. I conclude that nuclear weapons are wrong to use in principle.
If one agrees with this conclusion, it helps guide our moral thinking on how we should (or should not) employ nuclear weapons. In fact, in this case, it settles the matter: we should simply not use nukes, regardless of the circumstances. Many hold a similar view for weapons such as poison gas or the practice of torture. The relevant questions for such things are not how and when to use them, but rather how we can best rid the world of them. Alternatively, for those weapons that we think are not intrinsically wrong in principle and could be used ju stly in some circumstance, a better understanding of the potential moral gains and dangers inherent to such weaponsāin the abstractācan aid us in deploying them as justly as possible. This is precisely what I take to be the case with drones.
Drones: Potential Moral Gains and Potential Moral Dangers in Tension
So what of drones, then? Should drones be considered wrong in principle as, in my view, we should view nuclear weapons? I donāt believe so. I cannot here make this case in full, for that would require its own lengthy discussion, which I have offered elsewhere, and even there only partially.5 The very short and oversimplified version is this: There is nothing inherent in the nature of drones that makes them morally wrong to use, in principle, for an otherwise just cause. In fact, drones offer clear normative advantages by better protecting their operators from harm and by being more accurate in hitting their intended targets than other weapon platforms, which can result in, on par, fewer unintended deaths of noncombatants. This means, simply enough, that drones have the potential for moral improvement in the conduct of war when used for a just cause. But such potential, of course, is no guarantee that they will be used justly.
Drones also give rise to a long list of serious ethical concerns over their use. These include fears that drones make war too easy and too tempting for policy makers and thus lower the thresholds against any use of force to dangerous levels. There are concerns that drones generate āblowbackā against those who employ them among the populations where they operate. Many worry about the moral implications created by the extreme asymmetry remote warfare creates, while others question the ways such warfare might produce cognitive dissonance in the minds of those who operate drones. And there are many other ethical concerns specific to lethal drone employment too numerous to even attempt an adequate discussion of here. I take all such concerns seriously; each is worthy of legitimate apprehension and deeper moral analysis. However, I ultimately find that these potential moral problems with drones are contingent in nature and could be overcome and thus do not make drones wrong to use in principle.
If drones are not intrinsically wrong to use in principle, this then makes them a live option to consider for any lethal action befitting their capabilities. Thus the first and primary question for current drone operations and policy should be the following: Should those presently being attacked by drones be confronted at all? To simplify this question for the moment, let us restrict the question solely to the drone operations presently carried out in the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) region of Pakistan (where the majority of drone strikes over the past few years have occurred). If one thinks that the terrorists and militants entrenched in FATA who wage war on American, Pakistani, and NATO forces and kill thousands of innocent Pakistani civilians should be left to their own devices, then so be it. But then oneās issue is not with drones. Rather, it is with this entire policy of lethal operations in the FATA region. Certainly, if one answers this question in the negative, then drone operations in the FATA region should be ended. But then so too should any kind of military engagement against the militants.
But if one thinks, as I do, that it is best to do something to thwart the activities of those militants in the FATA region, then our choices are far more difficult, and our engagement with the drone debate requires and deserves far more nuance than the absolutist position offers. For if one answers the question in the affirmative, then we are left with the choice of how to best fight these adversaries. And among the various options available, I find that a relatively strong (but highly conditional) case can be made that drones are the best option (or least bad option) presently available with which to engage this fight.6
The reasons for this are complex and have as much to do with Pakistanās long failure to secure this region and the politics of Washington and Islamabad as it does with the particularities of drones. The untenable situation leaves very few good options remaining, including the option of doing nothing. As Joshua Foust of the Atlantic writes, āFATA, where most militants live and drone strikes occur, is a political wasteland with little law enforcementāleaving policymakers with few options for pursuing the terrorists that continue to kill thousands of Pakistani civilians (and actively support the insurgency next door in Afghanistan).ā7
If one thinks some attempt should be made to stop these militants, then we must weigh the available options. US and NATO ground forces could be sent into these regions. Pakistani ground forces could be deployed in large numbers. Or alternative forms of airpower could be employed, such as various manned aircraft. That seems to nearly exhaust the options in terms of fighting the terrorists embedded in the FATA region. There are, of course, nonviolent options, including negotiations and the long-term solution of Pakistan gaining credible political control of the region to bring stability, law, and order. But in the short term, the governments of both the United States and Pakistan believe (and I think rightly) that they have a duty to protect their citizens from the violence posed by the militants operating in the region.
Sending in large-scale US ground forces to the FATA region is a nonstarter; the political and pragmatic problems are innumerable. Sending in Pakistani ground forces may sound like a potential option, but it has, time and again, proven to cause far more harm to local civilians than drone strikes do on even the most charitable evidence available. Not only have there been much higher rates of unintended civilian casualties when Pakistani ground forces have been sent into FATA, but such operations have displaced hundreds of thousands of people. Using alternative means of airpower also gives us worse results than drones in terms of civilian casualty rates and infrastructure damage. Indeed, according to the most exhaustive and careful study of which I am aware that compares the various means used to fight the militants in the FATA region, drones emerge as by far the least bad option in terms of unintended civilians harmed or killed.8
It is worth stressing this last claim, because it will become a rather important point of contention throughout this debate. Some of the other authors in thi...