Introduction

In July 2022, Air Marshal Johnny Stringer spoke at the Global Air and Space Chiefs’ Conference on the subject of ethics and morals1. He identified three fundamental principles to which air forces should adhere to ‘maintain the leading edge’: to engage and inform; to embrace challenges and opportunities afforded by new technologies; and to be front-footed in ethical debate. As he argued, this relatively uncontroversial proposition did not unfortunately reflect the reality of UK defence’s approach, therefore posing a risk that it would acquire future technologies without the support of civil society.

As an example, he referenced the introduction of Predator and Reaper aircraft to the RAF inventory in the mid-2000s. By expounding on that example, I will discuss the consequences of introducing new airpower technologies without sufficient intellectual thinking on their second and third-order effects. In the case of Reaper, the successor to Predator, the impact of air surveillance and attack from these aircraft have had broader cultural and societal implications on people and communities that inhabit the land over which these aircraft fly2.

This commentary will start by outlining the unique characteristics of RPAS. The introduction of Predator and Reaper RPAS to the RAF’s inventory will be discussed, specifically the lack of critical interrogation of those characteristics and their implications. It will also reveal, with a few notable exceptions, the unwillingness of the MOD to communicate this to the public.

I will consider the use of Reaper in counter-insurgency (COIN) and counter-terrorism operations. Currently, analysis and military conceptual thinking around these operations have taken a back seat, given the 2022 illegal Russian invasion of Ukraine. As Tripodi and Wiger point out, a convergence of factors, including the ‘post-Afghanistan rejection of nation building and liberal interventionism’ and ‘the prospect of interstate war with near peer enemies’ has led to a lack of debate, echoing the US’s earlier purge of COIN thinking after Vietnam (2022). However, the immediate aftermath of a campaign, perhaps especially when it has proved unsuccessful in the extreme, is an excellent time to capture lessons on this type of military operation. Hence, this commentary aims to stimulate debate about the future use of RPAS technology in similar contexts.

This commentary addresses the use of Predator and Reaper in the last 20 years in low-intensity conflicts where air superiority has been a given. This analysis will not address the use of drones in high-intensity battles, as we see in Ukraine, where larger, relatively vulnerable, and expensive platforms have their place (mostly beyond Ukraine’s borders) but are less relevant than smaller and more expendable drones used by Russia and Ukraine.

RPAS

The issue of new air power capabilities disrupting the settled order of warfare became widely apparent with the advent of the First World War and the accelerated development of air power from surveillance to air-to-air combat to targeting. As a Pathé documentary described it:

These are the fluid frontiers of the sky. Until our time these were the regions where men do not belong. Until our time the clouds moved unconsidered over the troubled and splendid world of men, over cities at peace, over armies and navies at war. The sky had nothing to do with history. And then quite suddenly after all the centuries, within the lifetime of most of us, the sky became an arena: over the world, over Europe, over England3.

The nature of RPAS embodies a new way that air forces worldwide engage with the populations below them. Because of the different ways in which they operate, in particular the combination of persistence, lethality, and constant surveillance, alongside the lack of the presence of a human in the skies above, they have produced new behaviours in targeted populations and challenged air forces in communicating about emerging capabilities.

Reaper is a sophisticated drone, about as long as a ‘Red Arrows’ Hawk, though with a much larger wingspan4. It carries sensors, cameras, Hellfire missiles, and laser guided bombs. The aircraft are operated ‘remotely’ with crews located thousands of miles away; in the UK, Reaper (and Protector—the latest iteration of this drone) are operated from RAF Waddington in Lincoln. These aircraft are designed for relatively uncontested airspace. Since their introduction, they have been used in places such as Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, and Syria, where Western forces have had control of the air.

As well as carrying no crew within the aircraft, two other characteristics pertain to this capability and combined make them a very different proposition to the crewed combat aircraft which they can, to some extent, replace. The first is their persistence. Crewed aircraft have limited endurance due to the need for crews to be rotated so that even with access to air-to-air refuelling they can only remain airborne for several hours at a time. In contrast, Reaper aircraft can stay airborne much longer—around 16 h is their fuel endurance. They can, of course, be rotated in situ since a replacement aircraft can be flown to their position—or station—over a potential target or surveillance area. Therefore, from the perspective of those below on the ground, the aircraft can remain overhead for days and weeks on end: ‘its gaze can remain constant; a mechanical eye has no lids’ (Chamayou and Lloyd 2015, 38).

The second important characteristic is the ocular proximity of the crew to those that they surveil and target. Military history records a process of distancing between combatants over time: where once men fought hand-to-hand, the gun increased the distance at which an enemy could be slain; long-range artillery, air power, and inter-continental ballistic missiles all complied with that trend. As the Reaper is operated from a cabin thousands of miles from its target, it has been argued that this is merely a continuation of that trend (Strawser 2010, 343). Instead, it is argued here that in the case of Reaper, distance has been thoroughly distorted. Where is the fighting taking place? Both in a cabin in Lincoln and on a distant battlefield? Are the crews psychologically distanced (and potentially therefore dehumanised) from the battlefield or intimately close to it, loitering as they do for hours, days and weeks over places in a way that targets prosecuted by a manned Harrier aircraft flying at over 500 miles an hour over Afghanistan did not?

Physical distance and perceptual distance have been divorced by this remote technology and aircrew, while thousands of miles from the battlefield, find themselves in intimate ocular proximity to the people they target (Chamayou and Lloyd 2015, 117). Williams termed this ‘distant intimacy’ (2015). Reaper aircraft can loiter high above while their crew observe a compound and the people living in it, over days of operations. This intimate experience can be followed by prosecuting a human target and watching the aftermath as people rush to the scene. Aircrew report watching hasty burials and funerals. The intimate perceptual distance between the targeter and target, created by the sensor and loiter capability of platforms like Reaper, is unique and uniquely challenging.

As a result of these capabilities, researchers have observed a number of impacts on the populations who live below Reaper-operated skies, as well as on the operating crews. The ocular proximity has invited debate on the psychological effects of operating RPAS compared with operating regular crewed aircraft (Lee 2018; Chapa 2017). I focus here, however, on the populations surveilled. The persistent nature of these aircraft, combined with the weaponry they can carry and the detailed images that their sensors provide to their crews, has been characterised as ‘the ever-present threat of annihilation from an invisible drone or from the sound, the persistent sound of a drone hovering overhead’ (Airspace Tribunal 2018). The conceptualisation of Reaper as a flying watchtower encapsulates, as Chamayou and Lloyd do in the opening quote of this commentary, their perceived omniscience to the communities beneath.

Though research in the regions where the RAF has been operating is limited (although Page and Williams are a notable example), studies conducted in places like Yemen and Pakistan, where the United States Air Force has regularly operated, provide startling evidence that constant surveillance, threat of targeting, and knowledge that these aircraft are often searching for specific targets has led to altered behaviours in the communities they monitor (Shiban and Molyneux 2020; Roe 2012). Large gatherings, such as weddings, are avoided for fear of being mistaken for insurgent group gatherings, or alternatively because strangers at these events might be potential targets themselves (Page and Williams 2022, 18). For the latter reason, communities refuse hospitality to travellers, which would previously have been the accepted tradition.

Research in Pakistan found that children avoided gathering outside and were deprived of opportunities to play outdoors (Stanford University and NYU 2012). Researching in Yemen, Shiban and Molyneux (2020) found substantial evidence of mental health problems, including stress, insomnia, anxiety, and depression. In one village, ‘every time a drone is heard or seen, one mother explained, the whole village of 1900 people evacuate into the desert in their cars. They only return once the drone has left the area. This procedure is repeated without failure at every sighting or audio confirmation of a drone, on average two to four times a month’ (Shiban and Molyneux 2020, 119).

Thinking about remote warfare

The further consequences of altering ways of life and creating fear and stress may also create downstream problems for those seeking to obliterate insurgencies and terrorist movements. First, when the enemy has no one to fight, when only one ‘side’ takes physical risk, where does the enemy take the fight to? Page and Williams (2022, 19) interviewed Afghan elders and parents who stated ‘that since drone strikes had begun young people were more open to radical and extreme views. They noted community means of managing these views had been circumscribed by drone activity restricting gatherings.’ Their research concluded that ‘drone use and strikes have been doing more harm than good’ (Page and Williams 2022, 20).

In the UK, before and after Reaper's introduction, there was little appetite to engage with the public to communicate about the unique characteristics of this new air power capability. The term ‘drone’, used in the media and public discourse, is one example of the implications of this negligence. The term is disliked by the military and some of its commentators for its robotic, impersonal nature, combined with its applicability to any flying object operated remotely from an ‘Amazon delivery bot’ to model aircraft flown for sport to business jet-sized military aircraft such as Global Hawk5. Although the MOD dislikes the term ‘drone’, it never took control of the narrative on this capability and oscillated on terminology—first, calling them Unmanned Air Systems, then RPAS.

When there were attempts to communicate about Reaper, the emphasis was to play down its unique capabilities to avoid contentious public debate on its potentially harmful implications for society. Harm to civilians, when discussed, was only referred to in physical terms (i.e. civilians harmed in targeted attacks rather than discussion of any psychological harm). The Reaper, it was emphasised, follows the same rules of engagement and delivers the same capability as a crewed aircraft ‘using a line of argument which casually places the drone alongside any other weaponry in an effort to play down their distinctive features’ (Thompson 2020, 27). It is noteworthy that NATO doctrine has changed its terminology in relation to psychological harm in the last two years. Gillard (2018, 33) noted that NATO Joint Targeting Doctrine published in 2016 referred to the fact that ‘lethal and non-lethal engagements can result in psychological effects, some of which may be undesirable’. The updated 2021 version of the doctrine refers instead to the ‘virtual and cognitive dimensions’ recommending that ‘A deeper understanding of the human environment is achieved by means of a gender analysis’ (NATO AJP-3.9 2021 1–28). There is no explanation given of why or how gender analysis is specifically relevant to ‘cognitive’ effects. The doctrine therefore appears even less explicit than previously on psychological harm.

Gillard also examined the meaning, in NATO doctrine, of an ‘attack as a whole’ in determining proportionality when considering incidental harm to civilians. She stated that ‘Civilians are frequently exposed to hostilities for prolonged periods, making it difficult to determine whether a particular attack is likely to cause mental harm’ (2018, 32). The legal concept of an ‘attack as a whole’ is particularly relevant to Reaper operations given their persistent nature and the long periods they may loiter gathering intelligence before prosecuting a specific target since when an attack starts and ends is a more complex question in relation to RPAS.

Thompson argued that ‘the dominant PR narrative of drones doing no harm has led to the voices of innocent citizens being ignored in a Western-centric public sphere that rarely includes accounts of the effects on populations who live under surveillance and constant fear of attack’ (28). He identified ‘discursive themes of persuasive intent in relation to drones’ from an RAF PR event in December 2013. The first was ‘confronting myths’, i.e. that the RAF believed there were unfounded myths and criticism (such as the assertion that, as the then Secretary of State for Defence outlined, ‘the most basic falsehood’ was that these aircraft were free from human oversight) that needed correcting (Thompson 2020, 25). This exposes the fault at the heart of the MOD’s (lack of) communication about Reaper. The refusal to proactively discuss the capability and challenges presented in moral and ethical terms created a vacuum wherein the perspective of other commentators and campaigners outside of the military came to dominate6. As Air Marshal Stringer put it: ‘We didn’t engage early or wide enough in 2005 and in the early years about both the technology and the way we were operating these systems—we left a void for others to fill'7. The lack of communication and denial of anything but the most precise strikes added to the growing sense of secrecy around the capability.

One notable attempt to engage the defence sector in a discussion of the new human right to protect the freedom to live without physical or psychological threat from above was a roundtable discussion convened by the Freeman Air and Space Institute and the Airspace Tribunal in July 2021. Though no serving personnel attended, retired senior officers took part in the discussion alongside academics from different perspectives and organisations. Some were sympathetic to the proposal and recognised the Airspace Tribunal’s intention to consider the case for and against the recognition of a new human right, though there was scepticism about the chances of the proposed right being formally adopted. As Grief has argued, for that to occur it would need ‘to be championed by states in the UN, the Council of Europe, or other organisations’ (Grief 2022, 238). However, the view of those with military backgrounds was that the right would be a difficult proposition to sell to states who have invested heavily in the exploitation of air and space for a wide spectrum of capabilities. Two years on from this roundtable, in the context of Russia’s illegal invasion of Ukraine, though the proposed right ‘would not prevent a state from using armed force in accordance with the UN Charter, i.e. in self-defence or with the authority of the UN Security Council’, (Grief 2022, 237) the clear message from that conflict is that the alternative to one side winning air superiority is protracted attritional fighting on the ground. Future investment by states in air and space capabilities, including drones, does not look set to diminish.

Conclusion

The rich and healthy academic discourse on RPAS demonstrates that there is much to debate about this capability; this includes but is not limited to, the ethics surrounding their use, their distinctive nature, the psychological impact on those surveilled and those surveilling, and the concept of bravery and risk when applied to their crews. The lack of engagement of the RAF and MOD in publicly discussing the impact that these ‘flying watchtowers’ have on the civilians they surveil is now being compounded by the fact that the conflicts fought in Afghanistan and Iraq, generally regarded as Western military failures, are now in the MOD’s rear-view mirror.

The history of Western COIN operations surely suggests that those conflicts will not be the last. However, is there the will or enough conceptual bandwidth within the MOD and the RAF to ensure that lessons are learned about the impact of RPAS on civilians? Wouldn’t further engagement in discussion on the psychological impacts (or ‘cognitive’ if one wants to align with latest NATO doctrine) improve future utilisation of the capability, with potential benefits both for the RAF and the civilians who might suffer surveillance and attack in future? The discussions prompted by the work of the Airspace Tribunal offer a valuable contribution to this debate. While current threats from Russia and China are understandably at the forefront of defence thinking, there is still much to be captured and learnt from the last decades of fighting ‘wars of choice’, not least in relation to the ‘flying watchtowers’ and the unique ways in which they interact with and affect those on the ground below.

Notes

  1. 1.

    GASCC22, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=URlwOsrgoXk.

  2. 2.

    Reaper was originally known as Predator B although it was a substantially different and more capable aircraft, able to carry a larger payload and operate at much faster speeds; this paper will use the term Reaper to refer to the RAF’s large armed drone aircraft programme. Predator was originally only an information, surveillance and reconnaissance aircraft, but was armed with missiles by the time the RAF began operating it.

  3. 3.

    Excerpt from British Pathé newsreel on the emergence of air power

  4. 4.

    Reaper—Length: 10.97m Height: 3.66m Wingspan: 21.12m. Hawk T1—Length: 11.85m Height: 4.00m Wingspan: 9.39m.

  5. 5.

    See, for example, Justin Bronk, Twitter 9 May 2022. ‘Plea to defence journos + analysts: stop talking ‘drones’, https://twitter.com/Justin_Br0nk/status/1523623821726560258.

  6. 6.

    Such as campaigners against ‘Killer Drones’: https://www.stopkillerrobots.org .

  7. 7.

    GASCC22, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=URlwOsrgoXk .