Drone Warfare Read online

  © 2012 Medea Benjamin

  Published by OR Books, New York and London

  Visit our website at www.orbooks.com

  First printing 2012

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, except brief passages for review purposes.

  Cataloging-in-Publication data is available from the Library of Congress. A catalog record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 978-1-935928-81-2 paperback

  ISBN 978-1-935928-82-9 e-book

  Typeset by Lapiz Digital Technologies, Chennai, India.

  Printed by BookMobile in the US and CPI Books Ltd in the UK.

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  Table of Contents

  Foreword

  Introduction

  A Sordid Love Affair With Killer Drones

  It’s a Growth Market

  Here a Drone, There a Drone, Everywhere a Drone

  Pilots Without a Cockpit

  Remote-Controlled Victims

  Murder by Drone: Is It Legal?

  Morality Bites the Dust

  The Activists Strike Back

  Opposition to Drones Goes Global

  Conclusion

  Acknowledgments

  Further Reading

  Endnotes

  Foreword

  In many ways, drones present the same moral issues as any other action-at-a-distance weapon: They allow warriors to kill at a minimal risk to themselves, thus lowering the human cost of aggression. Thus the ancient contempt for archers, as recounted in The Iliad, where the Greek chieftains deride the Trojan prince Paris for his reliance on the bow and arrow. Real men are not afraid of hand-to-hand combat; only cowards attack from a distance, often hiding behind trees or rocks.

  Drones are of course the ultimate action-at-a-distance weapons, allowing the aggressor to destroy targets in Pakistan or Afghanistan while “hiding” thousands of miles away in Nevada. But this alone does not make them uniquely pernicious: Missiles and aerial bombardment can also be launched from great distances by individuals who need not see the extent of the violence they inflict. If we are to end war, we need to take aim at all the weaponry that makes it possible and even inviting—guns, artillery, fighter planes and bombs—and at the industries that manufacture them.

  But in this remarkably cogent and carefully researched book, Medea Benjamin makes it clear that drones are not just another example of high-tech military trinket. In fact, it is hard to even claim that their primary use is “military” in any traditional sense. Drones have made possible a program of targeted assassinations that are justified by the US “war on terror,” but otherwise in defiance of both international and US law. As Benjamin documents, it is the CIA, not the Pentagon, that operates most drone strikes in Western Asia, with no accountability whatsoever. Designated targets, including American citizens, have been condemned without evidence or trial—at the will, apparently, of the White House. And those who operate the drones do so with complete impunity for the deaths of any civilians who end up as collateral damage.

  One of Benjamin’s most disturbing revelations has to do with the explosive expansion of the drone industry in just the last few years, to the point where fifty nations now possess the devices. Drone Warfare sketches out the nightmare possibilities posed by this insane proliferation. Not only can we can expect drones to fall into the hands of “rogue” nations or terrorist groups; we should brace ourselves, too, for the domestic use of surveillance drones and even armed drones at the Mexican border and possibly against American civilian protestors.

  In anyone else’s hands, this could be a deeply depressing book. Fortunately though, Medea Benjamin is not just an ace reporter; she’s one of the world’s leading anti-war activists. Drone Warfare ends with the story of the global anti-drone movement, in which she has played a central role. At the end of this book, you’ll be inspired—and you’ll know exactly how to get involved!

  — Barbara Ehrenreich

  Alexandria, VA, January 2012

  Introduction

  I met Roya on my first day while visiting the Pakistan-Afghan border, on a dusty road in Peshawar. It was just weeks after the 2002 US invasion of Afghanistan, and I was traveling as a representative of the human rights group I co-founded called Global Exchange. A young girl approached me, her head cocked to one side, her hand outstretched, begging for money.

  With the help of an interpreter, I learned her story. Roya was thirteen years old, the same age as my youngest daughter. But her life could not have been in starker contrast to that of my San Francisco high schooler and her girlfriends. Roya never had time for sports, or for school. Born into a poor family living on the outskirts of Kabul, her father was a street vendor. Her mother raised five children and baked sweets for him to sell.

  One day while her father was out selling candies, Roya and her two sisters were trudging home carrying buckets of water. Suddenly, they heard a terrifying whir and then there was an explosion: something terrible had dropped from the sky, tearing their house apart and sending the body parts of their mother and two brothers flying through the air.

  The Americans must have thought Roya’s home was part of a nearby Taliban housing compound. In the cold vernacular of military-speak, her family had become “collateral damage” in America’s war on terror.

  When Roya’s father came home, he carefully collected all the bits and pieces of his pulverized family that he could find, buried them immediately according to Islamic tradition, and then sank into a severe state of shock.

  Roya became the head of her household. She bundled up her surviving sisters, grabbed her father, and fled. With no money or provisions, they trekked through the Hindu Kush, across the Khyber Pass, and into Pakistan.

  Once in Peshawar, the family barely survived on the one dollar a day the girls made from begging. Roya took me to their one-room adobe hut to meet her father. A tall, strong man with the calloused hands of a hard worker, he no longer works. He doesn’t even walk or talk. He just sits and stares into space. “Once in a while he smiles,” Roya whispered.

  Inside Afghanistan, I saw more lives destroyed by US bombs. Some bombs hit the right target but caused horrific collateral damage. Some bombs hit the wrong target because of human error, machine malfunction or faulty information. In one village, the Americans thought a wedding party was a Taliban gathering. One minute, forty-three relatives were joyously celebrating; the next minute, their appendages were hanging off the limbs of trees.

  Forty villagers were killed in another small town in the middle of the night. Their crime? They lived near the caves of Tora Bora, where Osama bin Laden was presumed to be hiding. The US news media reported the dead as Taliban militants. But the woman I met—who had just lost her husband and four children, as well as both her legs—had never heard of Al Qaeda, America or George Bush. Bleeding profusely, she was praying that she would die. Surviving as a crippled widow with no income and no family was too much to bear.

  Unknown to most Americans, in just three months between October 7, 2001 and January 1, 2002, over 1,000 Afghan civilians were directly killed by the US-led bombing campaign and at least 3,200 more had died of “starvation, exposure, associated illnesses, or injury sustained while in flight from war zones,” according to the Project on Defense Alternatives.1 This is more than the number of people killed in the 9/11 attacks.

  President Bush had choices after the dreadful events of 9/11/2001. He could
have treated the attacks as a crime against humanity that required internationally coordinated police work to capture the perpetrators and bring them to justice. Instead he chose ground invasions by heavily armed troops and aerial attacks that sent thousands of bombs and missiles screeching through the skies.

  The American government told the public not to worry about who was on the receiving end of the air attacks. The US military now had smart bombs and laser-guided missiles that, together with a newfangled kind of unmanned planes called drones, gave them the capability of dropping munitions with breath-taking precision. Government officials insisted that Al Qaeda militants who attacked the United States or who were plotting future attacks would get what they deserved, while civilian casualties would be carefully avoided.

  When I realized this was a lie, I vowed that I would try to get the US government to help compensate these innocent victims of our attacks. I also vowed that I would never allow myself to be lulled into thinking that high-tech wars were somehow more humane.

  Then came the March 2003 invasion of Iraq, a war based on lies about Saddam Hussein’s purported involvement in 9/11 and the “imminent threat” he posed to the United States because of his supposed possession of weapons of mass destruction. The US military bragged that unlike the 1991 Gulf War, where ninety-three percent of the munitions dropped were “dumb” bombs, seventy percent of the munitions dropped a dozen years later were laser-guided “smart” bombs or precision missiles.2 Expect minimal collateral damage, we were told.

  I must admit that when I walked down the streets of Baghdad a few months after the invasion, I marveled at the selective destruction of those weapons. Block after block, I saw one building reduced to rubble while the building right next to it was standing tall. With high-tech munitions, the military was able to zoom in on key targets: government ministries, the country’s electrical grid, water treatment plants, sewage systems, food storage facilities, bus depots, bridges, communication centers. But precise targeting, Iraqis told us, did not necessarily minimize casualties. What about the workers in those buildings? What about the people who happened to be walking by? And what about the hundreds of thousands of Iraqis, mostly children, who died from the subsequent lack of clean water and healthcare? All this callous destruction occurred in a country that had nothing to do with Al Qaeda or 9/11.

  Back in the US, I worked with Global Exchange to create a Congressional fund for compensating innocent victims of our attacks. Our staffperson Marla Ruzicka, one of the most compassionate and passionate young women I have ever met, worked feverishly on this, later founding a group called CIVIC, Campaign for Innocent Victims in Conflict. Tragically, in April 2005, Marla was killed by a roadside bomb in Iraq; she was just 28. A compensation fund created by Congress in her name has distributed over $40 million to the families and communities of innocent victims.

  While it was important to help the people we mistakenly harm, I felt it was more important to stop the wars. Together with my colleague Jodie Evans, we founded the women-led peace group CODEPINK. We believed that individuals who attacked our nation on 9/11 had to be captured and brought to justice, but that 9/11 did not justify going to war. We urged our government to examine how our military presence around the world, with over eight hundred overseas bases, was fueling anti-American sentiment (it was one of the reasons Osama bin Laden gave for the 9/11 attacks). We insisted that the United States could save much-needed money, and make our nation safer, by closing those bases and using the military for protection at home.

  We organized huge rallies, engaged in civil disobedience, traveled to war zones to get first-hand experience, and went on grueling hunger strikes calling for the withdrawal of our troops from Iraq and Afghanistan and for investing the creative energy of the international community into peacemaking, with women from the affected countries having a prominent seat at the table. We also called for an overhaul of another misguided US policy, the one-sided support for the government of Israel—a position that violates the human rights of Palestinians and inflames the very anti-Americanism that fuels terrorist attacks.

  Despite our efforts, it became clear that the Bush administration would not budge. So during the 2008 presidential campaign, many anti-war activists threw themselves into the election of Barack Obama, only to discover that the peace candidate had morphed into the war president. While President Obama withdrew our troops from Iraq in December 2011 (he was actually forced to do so by an agreement signed under President Bush), he escalated the number of troops in Afghanistan.

  He also chose another tactic that would help keep the war far removed from public consciousness: drone warfare. An aircraft that kills by remote control—also known by sophisticated names like unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV), unmanned aircraft system (UAS) and remotely piloted aircraft (RPA)—became the weapon of choice.

  Members of the US peace community watched in horror as these snipers in the sky started spreading from Afghanistan and Iraq to Pakistan, Yemen, Somalia, the Philippines and Libya. Instead of stopping the scourge of war, under Nobel Peace Prize winner President Obama the military was simply shifting tactics from boots on the ground to assassins in the air.

  In fact, President Obama carried out his first drone strike just three days after his inauguration. It was in Pakistan on January 23, 2009. But instead of striking a Taliban hideout, the missiles struck the home of Malik Gulistan Khan, a tribal elder and member of a local pro-government peace committee, and killed him and four other family members. “I lost my father, three brothers, and my cousin in this attack,” said Adnan, his eighteen-year-old son. Adnan’s uncle claimed, “We did nothing, have no connection to militants at all. Our family supported the government and in fact…was a member of a local peace committee.” Reports later confirmed the family’s story.3

  You would think this tragedy would have been enough to make President Obama reconsider the policy. It wasn’t. In fact, it was only years later, during a “Google chat” on January 30, 2012, that Obama even admitted to the public that the US had a covert drone program in Pakistan. Responding to a comment about drone strikes killing innocent people, Obama tried to reassure the public that they need not worry about dead civilians. “Drones have not caused a huge number of civilian casualties. For the most part, they have been precision strikes on Al Qaeda and their affiliates,” he told his listeners. “It is important to understand that this thing is being kept on a very tight leash.” Tell that to the thousands of grieving family members.

  Speaking to the New York Times, an anonymous senior counterterrorism official went even further to stifle dissent, implying that those who criticize drones for killing civilians are supporting Al Qaeda. “One must wonder why an effort that has so carefully gone after terrorists who plot to kill civilians has been subjected to so much misinformation. Let’s be under no illusions—there are a number of elements who would like nothing more than to malign these efforts and help Al Qaeda succeed.”4

  But unlike US officials, many people around the world do not believe that the United States—or any nation—has the right to attack whomever it wants, wherever it wants. People on the receiving end of drone missiles began rising up in protest. So did members of the peace community in the United States—including groups like my organization CODEPINK, Voices of Creative Non-Violence, and Catholic Workers—as well as activists in Europe and Australia. They were joined by scientists, ethicists, and other professionals alarmed by the explosion in the use of robotic warfare, particularly lethal drones.

  Together, they are part of a growing chorus demanding an international dialogue about the direction, ethics, and legality of high-tech warfare. More and more, people of conscience are calling for international guidelines to curb robotic warfare, as the world community has done in the case of land mines and cluster bombs.

  This book, dedicated to Roya and all the innocent victims of drone warfare, is meant to move that process along.

  A Sordid Love Affair With Killer Drones

  At the
2004 Radio and Television Correspondents’ Dinner, President Bush joked about searching for weapons of mass destruction under Oval Office furniture, since they had never been found in Iraq. The joke backfired when parents who had lost their children fighting in Iraq said they found it offensive and tasteless. Senator John Kerry said Bush displayed a “stunningly cavalier” attitude toward the war and those fighting it.

  Six years later, at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, President Obama made his own not-so-funny joke about weapons and war. When the pop band Jonas Brothers was about to play to the packed room, Obama furrowed his brow and sent them a warning to keep away from his daughters. “Sasha and Malia are huge fans, but boys, don’t get any ideas. Two words for you: Predator drones. You’ll never see it coming.”

  For people in Pakistan, where American drones have been dropping their Hellfire missiles, Obama’s joke lost something in translation. According to Pakistani journalist Khawar Rizvi, few Pakistanis had ever heard of the Jonas Brothers or understood the reference to the President’s daughters. “But one thing we do know: There’s nothing funny about Predator drones,” said Rizvi.5

  That seemed to be the opinion of Faisal Shahzad, a thirty-year-old Pakistan-born resident of Bridgeport, Connecticut. On May 1, 2010, just one day after President Obama made his offensive drone joke, Shahzad tried to set off a car bomb in New York City’s Times Square. The would-be bomber had left his explosive-laden Nissan Pathfinder parked in the middle of the busiest intersection in New York City at the busiest time: 6:30 p.m. on a Saturday night. Luckily, the bomb failed to explode, and the authorities—tipped off by local t-shirt vendors—disarmed it before it caused any casualties.

  Questioned about his motives by the authorities, Shahzad talked about US drone attacks in Pakistan.

  “You know what would have made a great punch line for Barack Obama’s joke about Predator drones last night at the White House correspondents’ dinner?” suggested writer Jonathan Schwarz after hearing about the bomb scare.6 “If the car bomb in Times Square had gone off at exactly that moment, and it turned out it was, in fact, in retaliation for strikes by Predator drones. Then the next night, when they were still washing blood and viscera off the streets of New York, the head of the Pakistani Taliban could have made a quip about killing people with car bombs at a fancy black tie dinner in Peshawar. And then the US could have blown up more Pakistani civilians with drones. And the cycle of funniness would begin anew!”