Abstract
The proliferation of robotic weaponry in recent years has raised some complex moral questions about contemporary practices of war. Jai Galliot sets out to navigate through this moral quagmire in his book Military Robots: Mapping the Moral Landscape, drawing on the principles of just war theory as he tries to make sense of the increasingly blurred boundaries between war and peace, combatant and non-combatant, human and machine.
The book begins with a handy guide to what Galliot describes as ‘unmanned systems’, which cover all sorts of electro-mechanical systems that are united by the fact that they do not have a human operator on board, can be recovered and reused, and are required to perform some sort of military function, whether it is on land, at sea or in the air (p. 5). Although the debate has been dominated by discussions about the most lethal drones, such as the MQ-1 Predator and the MQ-9 Reaper, Galliot is right to remind us that the non-lethal systems are just as important and just as worrying. While not all drones are able to fire missiles at the touch of a button, militaries around the world are becoming increasingly reliant on robotics to diffuse bombs, search for unexploded landmines and check buildings for potential booby traps (pp. 23–28). As well as recognising the role of non-lethal weaponry, Galliot argues that we must also take into account that not all ‘unmanned systems’ are fully autonomous. The levels of human supervision are certainly variable. At one end of the spectrum there are systems that require a human operator that controls every aspect of their movement (p. 6). At the other, we find systems that require minimal supervision after they have been programmed to complete certain tasks (p. 7). However, Galliot acknowledges that the potential for robots to become fully autonomous represents ‘a more pernicious threat than any weapon system created to date’, hence the need for careful moral consideration (p. 30).
Before embarking on his own assessment of this technology, Galliot engages with the core philosophical argument in favour of ‘unmanned systems’. The argument here is relatively straightforward and perhaps familiar: if the military has a piece of equipment that would allow it to achieve its goals without exposing soldiers to unnecessary risks, then it would be immoral not to use it (pp. 43–47). In other words, it is not just that ‘unmanned systems’ are morally permissible, but that militaries have a moral obligation to use them wherever and whenever possible. Although Galliot is generally sympathetic to this argument, he argues that it ‘fails to give a complete account of how the obligation to use these systems arises’ because it does not explain why it is that the military has an obligation to protect its soldiers (p. 37). For it to be plausible, he argues that the responsibility to avoid unnecessary risk cannot be grounded in the moral worth of individual soldiers. Instead, it requires a much more nuanced understanding of the military covenant, recognising that the military is expected to fulfil its duties in the most efficient and cost-effective way possible (p. 55). Exposing soldiers to unnecessary harm could, therefore, be seen as a dereliction of a military’s duty because the loss of life would undermine its capacity to fight future wars effectively (p. 54).
On a philosophical level, Galliot accepts that the modified version of this argument provides a compelling case for the use of ‘unmanned systems’, but he is also concerned that operational constraints add a layer of complexity that needs to be explored in greater depth. In the remainder of the book, therefore, he explores some of the moral conundrums that arise from these operational constraints, all the while drawing on the principles of just war theory to try to make sense of these concerns. In chapter 5, for example, he warns that keeping the operators out of harm’s way does not necessarily mean that soldiers are not at risk as ground troops are still required to gather intelligence and recover the wreckage of crashed drones. More worrying, Galliot argues that the proliferation of drone technology allows the military to operate in an increasingly urban environment, exposing growing numbers of civilians to death and injury. In chapter 6, he warns that the geographical distance and cognitive disconnect between those that kill and those that are killed may diminish an operator’s capacity for moral reasoning, undermining jus in bello principles of proportionality and discrimination. Moreover, lowering both the financial and the human costs of war – for one side, at least – may increase the likelihood of war by lowering the barriers to entry and dampening public criticism, thereby undermining the jus ad bellum principle of last resort. Finally, in chapters 8 and 9, Galliot considers how ‘unmanned systems’ may render the prospect of a meaningful resolution to military conflict more problematic by blurring the boundaries between war and peace while making it increasingly difficult to decide who is responsible for violent acts that are unjust.
The level of Galliot’s engagement is certainly impressive and he raises a number of concerns about the operational constraints of drones. In his conclusion, he argues that the practical problems associated with ‘unmanned systems’ require much tighter regulation if we are to guard against the erosion of jus ad bellum, jus in bello and jus post bellum principles. While he acknowledges that there is a strong moral case for minimising risk to soldiers and recognises that there are ‘legitimate roles for even the most autonomous systems’, he does an excellent job in identifying and explaining the specific problems that arise with the deployment of this technology. However, the book is not without its flaws. Despite going to great lengths to explain the different levels of autonomy in the Introduction, these distinctions are not always as clear-cut in the main body of the text. His decision to use ‘unmanned systems’ and ‘drones’ interchangeably, for example, makes it difficult to engage with arguments specific to fully-automated weaponry, such as the idea that they can be programmed to act ethically (p. 5). More frustrating, however, is his reluctance to reflect on the limitations of just war theory for thinking about the changing character of war (p. 81). Although he acknowledges that ‘unmanned systems’ have undermined the distinction between war and peace, blurred the boundary between combatant and non-combatant, and challenged the very notion of a battlefield, Galliot dismisses critics for failing to provide a coherent alternative (pp. 80–86). Even sympathetic voices, who have sought to redefine just war theory from within, are relegated to the footnotes (p. 183).
Nevertheless, these concerns should not detract from what is an incredibly rich and interesting attempt to consider the moral implications of robotic warfare. Military Robots: Mapping the Moral Landscape will be vital reading for both students and scholars hoping to navigate through these murky moral waters.