International Security: A Very Short Introduction (Very Short Introductions) (9 page)

Developments in military technologies, which in the USA were spurred on by an aversion to casualties following the Vietnam War, have played an important role in furthering this perception. In particular, the development of increasingly sophisticated electronic sensors, hand-held computers, and the increasing use of satellite technologies for intelligence gathering, surveillance, instant battlefield communications, and the delivery of precision-guided munitions, have been key. Indeed, it has become common to talk about a technological ‘revolution in military affairs’ (RMA), which has provided the USA and its allies with an unprecedented military advantage. The Gulf War in 1991 marked a turning point in this respect. The Iraqi army’s decimation for the loss of around only 250 Coalition personnel was seen as a triumph of this technological edge.

In this respect, the promise of technological superiority has been seen in its potential to enable the USA and its allies to fight future wars swiftly, deploying only limited numbers of personnel into the combat zone, and therefore to fight wars at a distance. A good example of this vision of future combat is the use of unmanned aerial vehicles (drones) in surveillance and attack operations, but whose controllers are often based in America. The belief, however, is that future wars may also be conducted with more precision, thereby limiting collateral damage through the use of ‘surgical’ air strikes. Notable, therefore, is that while precision-guided munitions accounted for about 9 per cent of strikes in the 1991 Gulf War, this rose to 70 per cent in the 2003 Iraq War.

The promises of the technological revolution, however, have been challenged. First, in light of the protracted nature of the
conflicts in Afghanistan since 2001, and Iraq since 2003, claims that the technological edge would lead to faster and cleaner engagements ring hollow. While its technological edge enabled the limited forces of the US-led Coalition of the Willing to undertake an unparalleled advance on Baghdad in 2003 and to bring about an initial defeat of Iraqi forces, as in Afghanistan their ability to win the subsequent ‘peace’ was less obvious. The point is that in response to its unprecedented military superiority the enemies of America and its allies have adopted alternative tactics designed to nullify some of the West’s advantages. Instead of risking annihilation on a designated battlefield they are increasingly adopting the tactics of guerrilla warfare, launching lightning strikes, deploying improvised explosive devices (IEDs), and targeting perceived Western vulnerabilities and sensibilities that might undermine the legitimacy and commitment to particular campaigns—for example, through deliberately killing civilians.

Second, critics argue that the emphasis on air power and cruise missiles is indicative of the West’s desire to transfer as much of the risks of war onto the enemy as possible. At one level this appears prudent and responds to the perceived sensitivity of Western publics to the taking of casualties. However, it also signals a very different image of war. Instead of war as a process of thrust and counter-thrust and a reciprocity of risk between participants, Western engagements can sometimes appear as a very unbalanced slaughter of one side by the other.

The benefits of such risk transfer, however, are not always as obvious as they seem. A good example is provided by NATO’s eleven-week bombing campaign conducted against the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia in 1999, in response to the Serbian-dominated government’s aggressive actions of ethnic cleansing of Kosovan Albanians in Kosovo. While NATO undertook thousands of sorties and dropped around 20,000 ‘smart bombs’ on Yugoslav targets, the effect was limited. Indeed,
ethnic cleansing of Kosovan Albanians increased during the bombing campaign. Frustrated, NATO resorted to bombing a wider range of targets. While initially the focus had been on targeting military installations, hardware, and units, faced by continued Serbian intransigence this was expanded to targets in Serbia with both a military and civilian function, such as power stations, water processing plants, bridges, factories, and telecommunications and broadcasting facilities. For its critics, NATO’s actions increasingly looked like an exercise in collective punishment against the whole of the Serbian population, with NATO’s bombing campaign causing around 500 civilian deaths and 6,000 casualties. Moreover, instead of helping the plight of Kosovan Albanians the operation may have exacerbated the humanitarian crisis. However, throughout the campaign the option of a ground invasion was rejected because of the potential risk of allied casualties. To this extent, the emphasis on minimizing Western casualties (of which there were none) may have been counter-productive to the operation’s goals, while it also sent out the message that Western lives were to be prioritized over those of others. Given that the Kosovo operation was sold to the public as a humanitarian necessity this easily raised questions of humanitarian double standards.

Finally, there is also a concern that the RMA, and the development of precision-guided munitions in particular, is encouraging Western governments to take a more positive view of war’s utility as an instrument of policy. Insofar as it is believed war can be quick and clean, targeted specifically at the ‘bad guys’, while minimizing the number of civilian casualties, then there is a possibility that it becomes viewed as an increasingly acceptable policy option. Critics therefore worry that the RMA and the emphasis on precision strikes is sanitizing the reality of war for Western publics. Moreover, if war becomes viewed as an easier option then this may also undermine more enduring diplomatic attempts to solve difficult international security issues.

The third way that war has begun to transform since the end of the Cold War concerns the increasing reliance on private security companies (PSCs) in military campaigns. Privatization is not a new phenomenon and mercenaries have featured on battlefields for much of human history. Since the early 1990s, though, the scope, nature, and importance of privatization has changed dramatically. From an emphasis on lone mercenaries, outlawed under the Geneva Conventions, a multi-billion dollar industry has emerged comprising major companies competing openly in the international security market. Such companies have become household names, including: Halliburton, Dyncorp, Aegis, Erinys, and Blackwater (now Academi). They have been hired by states, international organizations like the UN, humanitarian relief agencies, military alliances like NATO, and other private companies, while even criminal organizations and rebel groups have managed to enlist their services. For instance, during the conflict in Libya in 2011 private contractors were hired, both by the Libyan leadership under Colonel Gaddafi, and those rebel groups seeking to depose him.

The increasing importance and centrality of PSCs to the conduct of military operations can be highlighted with respect to a few examples in regard to the 2003 Iraq War and its aftermath. For example, with 10,000 private security contractors on the ground PSCs constituted the second largest contingent after the Americans during the actual war. The British were third with 9,900. After the war finished the number of contractors continued to increase. By 2006 the US Government Accounting Office put the ratio of contractors to military personnel in Iraq at 1:5, up from 1:10 in 2003, and an estimated 1:100 in the 1991 Gulf War. The companies involved were often paid vast sums. For instance, in 2007 the British company Aegis secured a contract to provide ‘reconstruction security services’ worth $475 million.

The actual activities such companies engage in, however, are often quite diverse. Most notorious are PSCs that participate in actual war fighting. In Iraq the activities of these companies were highlighted in the wake of various cases of illegal killings, with the spotlight in particular focused on the ambiguous legal status of contractors and their apparent immunity to prosecution. Such companies might also be involved in operating weapons systems or at times have been contracted to provide an ad hoc air force. Other companies, however, specialize in intelligence gathering and assessment, but also in military training and consultancy, such as providing advice on strategy and operational planning. Indeed, it is noteworthy that much of the training of the new Iraqi army and police force was contracted out to PSCs. Finally, companies like Halliburton specialize in logistical and technical support including, for example, building military camps and providing transportation services.

The emergence and rise of PSCs has several causes. Following military downsizing in response to the end of the Cold War the world’s militaries shrank by some 6 million personnel, creating a large potential workforce for the industry. Infamously the disbanded 32nd Reconnaissance Battalion of the South African military simply reconstituted itself as a private company,
Executive Outcomes
, who went on to fight in several African wars. Moreover, military downsizing also left the global market flooded with the full range of military equipment, all available at basement prices, enabling new companies to provision themselves. At the same time, the emergence of New Wars and the superpowers’ declining willingness to continue to provide security support for many regimes in the new global political context created power vacuums and zones of instability that PSCs seemed ideal to fill. And not least, the growth of the industry is also connected to the post-Cold War dominance of neoliberal ideology with its preference for the marketization of the public sphere, the belief being that privatization and outsourcing enhances efficiency and effectiveness.

There are various arguments for and against the use of PSCs, but three are worth noting in particular. First, as indicated it is often argued that outsourcing services to PSCs enhances cost effectiveness and efficiency. However, simple cost/efficiency comparisons can be difficult to draw. For example, one reason PSCs may appear a cheaper option is that they do not need to invest substantially in training personnel, since in general they hire people whose training has already been undertaken and paid for by national armed forces. Likewise, they do not need to retain standing forces or bases and can hire contractors as and when needed. Such reduced standing costs also means they can afford to tempt highly skilled military professionals by offering higher rates of pay. For example, in Iraq Special Forces veterans were for a time commanding $1,000 a day for their services. In turn, this created retention problems for the national forces as many soldiers resigned their commissions to take up such positions. For critics one danger is therefore that using PSCs can undermine the morale and cohesion of national forces. However, critics also point out that PSCs have frequently also been exposed as employing largely untrained contractors on lower wages, with this raising questions about their effectiveness. The key point here is that whereas the objective of states (or other actors hiring PSCs) is to maximize security, the primary goal of PSCs is inevitably to maximize profits, with this raising questions as to the vigour with which they may undertake their contracts.

A second argument in favour is that private security contractors are more ‘expendable’ than national soldiers, as evidenced by the media’s close scrutiny of military deaths in comparison to contractor deaths, numbers of which have been notoriously more difficult to verify—although as of 2011 some estimates suggested more than 500 foreign contractors had been killed in Iraq since 2003. As such, though, it is argued using PSCs may enable states to undertake riskier missions or may make it easier to justify the continuation of ongoing operations. It may also enable states to pay for missions they would otherwise lack the capabilities to
undertake. As with debates over the RMA, critics worry that the existence of PSCs therefore lowers the threshold for resorting to force, while it also enables governments to obfuscate responsibility when missions go awry, conduct operations largely unseen, and as such raises questions of democratic accountability.

Finally, the rise of PSCs raises questions about who gets security. PSCs argue they fill an important niche market, providing security as and where it is required. However, PSCs by definition only provide security to those able to pay. Although the industry argues they only provide services to respectable and legitimate clients there have also been cases where such claims have been questioned. Moreover, in cases of civil war, for instance, it is precisely claims of legitimacy and rights to govern that are being contested. In such conflicts should we be content with the idea that legitimacy is to be decided by whichever side has the resources to employ the assistance of a PSC? Ultimately, the rise of PSCs therefore raises questions about the extent to which corporations are beginning to challenge states as the primary providers and agents of security. More than this, though, to the extent to which such companies have been employed in the gathering and analysis of intelligence they have also begun to play increasingly important roles in identifying threats and shaping responses to them. Although the industry peddles security solutions it stands to reason that such companies also have an interest in expanding the security market by convincing clients and potential customers of impending threats, threats to which they might also offer their services.

In the final analysis, human security is a child who did not die, a disease that did not spread, a job that was not cut, an ethnic tension that did not explode into violence, a dissident who was not silenced. Human security is not a concern with weapons—it is a concern with human life and dignity.

(United Nations Development Programme,
Human Development Report
, 1994)

Until now this book has concentrated on narrow and more traditional security issues primarily concerned with conflicts between states and the preservation of a state-centric international order. As noted in
Chapter 2
, however, since the end of the Cold War understandings of international security have broadened significantly to include a focus on new issue areas and objects of security beyond the state. Most significant has arguably been the emergence of the concept of human security, signalling as it does the ambition of placing individuals and humanity more broadly at the heart of security debates, the suggestion being that enhancing individual security is fundamental to preserving and enhancing the broader international security environment. This emphasis on humanity has already been indicated in respect of the international community’s increasing willingness to make the preservation of human rights an obligation of sovereignty, with the failure to do
this a justification for invoking the R2P and launching a humanitarian intervention. However, the implications of prioritizing human security reach beyond these concerns and potentially raise much more profound questions about the distribution of resources, the structure of the international economic and political system, and the priority traditionally accorded to states within that system.