Democracy Lab

Predators for Peace

Drones have revolutionized war. Why not let them deliver aid?

Humanitarian relief can be a frustrating, dangerous task. Even the best-intentioned donors can face hostile conditions or less than honorable intermediaries. Two years ago, the Geneva-based Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis and Malaria issued a report describing how corrupt officials in Djibouti defrauded its programs of millions of dollars in cash, medicines and health supplies. Another well-organized theft ring, the group found, was operating across several African countries stealing anti-malarial drugs from supply chains and reselling them in the black market. Also two years ago, the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) discovered that inefficiencies in the supply chain had left a backlog of bed nets languishing in Nigerian warehouses, giving corrupt officials more time and opportunity to steal them.

The truth is that while the phrase "humanitarian relief" may sound grand and abstract, in practice it usually involves transporting specific items by people to other people who need them. And each person who comes into contact with these sometimes valuable goods can potentially speed up -- or sabotage -- the journey. The supply chains for these goods extend from urban depots to remote villages, often crossing myriad checkpoints along the way. This makes it easy for warlords and corrupt officials to delay or divert vital supplies for their own gain while depriving the starving and sick.

Aid workers are often put in harm's way. In Darfur, a wave of killings, kidnappings, and intimidation was aimed at stopping aid during the peak of the conflict in 2006. In the years since, the violence has forced relief teams to retreat or cease operations.

Convoys supplying the isolated Yemeni region of Dammaj earlier this year were attacked by rebels, killing many workers. But even the absence of hostilities does not mean that aid will reach its intended recipients. In Pakistan's Punjab province, desperate crowds stranded by floods in 2010 looted trucks bringing food.

Thugs, crowds, and sleazy officials are just one kind of obstacle. Rough terrain, foul weather, fuel shortfalls, warfare, and inefficiencies also deplete aid flow. Ironically, such barriers shift the incentives for aid delivery towards larger, more populated centers where security tends to be stronger. The result is a skewing of aid that encourages migration from small villages into the larger towns and aid depots -- exposing the already vulnerable recipients to crime, trafficking, and illness along the way. And each time a cargo is delayed, tens, hundreds, or thousands of people may perish. Reverberating across oceans, all these losses and inefficiencies undermine donors' faith in the aid process overall.

But what if you could leapfrog over these obstacles? The technological versatility of airborne drones, the flying robots that are already transforming warfare, also has the potential to revolutionize how humanitarian aid is delivered worldwide. Now used by the U.S. military to conduct surgical, sniper-like missile strikes against al-Qaeda and Taliban leaders in the badlands of Afghanistan and Pakistan, drones have many capabilities that are easily applicable to peaceful pursuits as well. Just this past December, the U.S. Marine Corps used an unmanned helicopter to resupply troops in Afghanistan for the first time -- demonstrating that drone technology is also feasible for the transport of cargo.

The versatility of these machines is already lending itself to novel uses. Drones have begun to soar over disaster zones to assess damage. Sensor-laden Global Hawks have flown over Haiti after its devastating 2010 earthquake and peered into the damaged Fukushima nuclear reactors in Japan after the March 2011 tsunami. The U.S. space agency NASA flew Predator drones over California to assess wildfire damage. Commercial interest in using drones for civilian use is also stirring. Fred Smith, the founder of FedEx, aspires to deploy specially adapted cargo drones that could cut shipping costs closer to those of sea-borne freight.

Emboldened by the robots' versatility, a new movement is emerging to adapt them for international aid. An expanding range of entrepreneurs is crafting prototypes and sketching out plans to use drones to distribute medicines or conduct emergency functions. A start-up company called aria (for "autonomous roadless intelligent arrays") wants to supply rural Africa with a drone skyway network run by aid groups. Leaving drone development to deep-pocket manufacturers, aria is creating "rules of the air" by which relief groups would share the skies. By establishing a community of drone deployers, aria hopes to launch a new strategy of fighting poverty from the air.

Aria is part of a broader movement initiated by Matternet, a company that is also pushing plans for automated, airborne delivery systems powered by sophisticated technology. Along similar lines, Vijay Kumar, an engineering expert at the University of Pennsylvania, riveted audiences at a recent TED Conference with his astonishing on-stage presentation of how computer-linked squadrons of small drones can be used as first responders in catastrophe situations, autonomously executing search-and-rescue operations using onboard sensors. As Kumar envisions it, the drones can be programmed to take action individually or in groups, acquiring real-time data that can be used to build a broad picture of the area in question.

The work of these entrepreneurs points to a future in which waves of aid drones might quickly deliver a peaceful "first strike" capacity of food and medicines to disaster areas. By skipping over rough, roadless terrain, and overflying choke points where bandits and corrupt officials rule, relief drones could offer direct point-to-point delivery of medicines and essential supplies. On-board video could verify that the aid has been dropped to target recipients and provide real-time feedback on ground conditions.

As technology constantly betters the drones' capabilities, ranges, and payloads, it's possible to imagine even more creative methods of aid delivery. In the future, intercontinental drone trains could be launched from donor nations, auto-navigate across oceans by GPS, deliver an airdrop to those in need, and return home. Some could land at specified drone ports where they could be offloaded for onward delivery. NGOs running local "drone fleets" with smaller vehicles could dispatch supplies directly to villages.

While the cargo capacity of early generations of drones is likely to be very modest compared to conventional means, the drones' speed and point-to-point ability can already make them valuable emergency channels for specialized, time-sensitive loads. For example, AIDS patients in developing countries need access to a constant supply of anti-retroviral drugs, whose supplies must be managed accurately to assure that the right pills are available at the right time and in adequate quantities. Missing pills allow HIV to regenerate quickly. If supplies of a particular drug run out, a special mission drone might be launched from a depot, loaded with the needed medicines, and deliver them directly to trusted recipients to tide over patient needs until traditional channels are restored.

Within just a few years, first waves of medical supply drones might be launched to mitigate disasters, even including epidemics. Temperature-sensitive drugs could be flown by drones equipped with refrigeration, bypassing the harsh tropical conditions that can spoil them if transported by ground. In the event of a disease outbreak, emergency vaccines could be flown directly from public health authorities or international aid groups. A ready reserve of medical supply drones could even be kept in orbit over vulnerable areas, to be instantly dispatched to any area when needed.

Once overhead, these emergency drones could send back real-time intelligence to disaster coordinators. In calmer times, surveillance drones could be flown over villages on a circuit to keep tabs on the need for water or shelter. They might even be used to detect social unrest by sighting crowds or evidence of violence, such as fires or explosions.

As technology drives down cost and expands capabilities, point-to-point drone operations run by NGOs can also be a force for democratization. Imagine: Instead of traditional government-to-government models of aid delivery, ridden with inefficiencies and corruption, drones could provide the basis for group-to-group networks of aid delivery, thus building communities rather than bolstering bad rulers.

What's more, bypassing graft and theft-ridden supply chains has the potential to boost the efficiency of the operations of NGOs and donor governments -- including saving money currently being spent on security. More resources can actually go to those in need.

It's understandable that drones have not yet been tested for use in delivering aid. Drone proliferation will be a game-changer, which is precisely why regimes in developing zones may fear their use. Proliferation of aid drones will complicate border and airspace control, and raise suspicions that flights are being used for intelligence gathering. Customs officials could be forced to cover more territory, spreading out their ranks. Corrupt officials seeking new sources of graft might seek to control drone ports and infiltrate the networks operating them.

And there are risks. Because any new channel that competes with a regime's supply chains weakens its authority, countermeasures could follow. In conflict situations, regimes wanting to block supplies sent to rival groups could target supply drones for attack. Regimes may even be motivated to acquire their own drones to patrol their skies and intercept inbound craft.

While some authorities may feel threatened, however, other officials may be drawn to the promise of donors' drones alleviating burdens they otherwise might have to bear on their own. Supplies that reliably reach those in need with fewer losses and risks might reward officials who facilitate their arrival.

Higher success rates, in turn, would prompt donors to step up their efforts. With their powerful sensors, aid drones could validate deliveries, help promote transparency, and build trust. A new means of softening the impacts of disaster and disease could even help to stabilize good governments.

Though aid drones aren't yet a reality, there might be a ready source in the making. With U.S. combat having ended in Iraq and winding down in Afghanistan, the U.S. military faces a surplus of unused drones. An entire squadron of attack drones, already built and paid for, currently idles in storage while the military ponders what to do with them.

And while it's unlikely that those military drones (especially if laden with classified equipment) will be converted to civilian use, manufacturers can produce simpler civilian versions for use in humanitarian missions. One firm, AeroVironment, is already marketing a trunk-sized drone purpose-built for civilian first-response missions.

Re-directing these flying robots towards peaceful purposes could change the way we see and develop high technology. As the capacity and range of the machines increase, we might soon witness the first intercontinental drone convoys landing in Africa, perhaps in the form of a fleet aimed at averting mass starvation in a conflict zone. Just as the 1949 Berlin airlift showed, for the first time, the power of mass cargo flights to save lives, future "drone-lifts" could become potent weapons in the fight against hunger and disease.

Cyber Technology (WA) Pty/Ltd


Down with CISPA

America needs to stop preaching civil liberties abroad while passing privacy-destroying bills at home.

On Thursday, April 26, the U.S. House of Representatives passed the Cyber Intelligence Sharing and Protection Act (CISPA), the first major Internet-regulation bill Congress has tried to pass since mass protests led to the spectacular collapse of the Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) in January. CISPA, while aimed at a much different subject, gained much the same ire as SOPA, given its potential effect on Internet freedom. Although sold as a bill that would strengthen cybersecurity, CISPA would have huge implications for Internet users' privacy both domestically and abroad if the Senate passed it in the coming weeks and it became law.

According to the bill's main author, Rep. Mike Rogers (R-Mich.), CISPA's main purpose is to allow companies and the government to share information to prevent and defend against cyberattacks. But the bill's language is written so broadly that it carves out a giant cybersecurity loophole in all existing privacy laws.

The problem is in the bill's definition of "cyber threat information" and how companies can respond to it. "Cyber threat information" is an overly vague term that can be interpreted to include a wide range of tasks that normally wouldn't be considered cyberthreats -- like encrypting emails or running an anonymization tool such as Tor -- and as a result, a company's options would be so numerous as to allow it to read any user's communications for a host of reasons.

Those communications could then be handed over to the government voluntarily without a warrant or any oversight, nullifying well-established laws like the 1968 Wiretap Act and the 1986 Electronic Communications Privacy Act, which prevent companies from reading your communications except under very specific circumstances and prevent the government from getting users' communications without judicial review.

Once the U.S. government gets hold of such information, the problem intensifies. Private communications can be passed on to intelligences agencies like the National Security Agency (NSA) and the military -- bypassing decades of law barring intelligence agencies from spying on Americans -- and be used for other law enforcement purposes besides cybersecurity. Almost as an afterthought, the bill also increases government secrecy -- already at an all-time high -- by creating a new exception to the Freedom of Information Act for any information the government receives from companies.

It has become clear by now that CISPA is far more than a mere "cybersecurity" bill.

As such, CISPA has enraged civil liberties organizations and a host of other actors, from free market groups to Internet security experts. The bill's flaws are so obvious that Barack Obama's administration -- despite strongly pushing Congress to pass cybersecurity legislation -- issued a veto threat Wednesday, decrying the fact that CISPA "effectively treats domestic cybersecurity as an intelligence activity."

But that hasn't stopped Rogers from continually insisting that he's listening to the concerns of civil liberties groups and ordinary users. The congressman said Tuesday in response to criticism, "[Privacy advocates] have been very good working with us on language to get the bill to a point that helps them protect users and protect their civil liberties." He repeated much of those same claims on the House floor on Thursday, claiming that CISPA is "narrow" and "extremely limited" and that he was trying to accommodate the bill's critics.

In reality, the opposite was true. Rogers refused to even allow some common-sense, substantive amendments to reach the House floor, such as requiring companies to remove an individual's information before handing it over to the government, anonymizing data when it's shared between agencies, or making sure the government gets a warrant before looking at identifying information. Rogers also rejected an amendment that would prevent military and intelligence agencies like the NSA from receiving sensitive user data under this cybersecurity program. Instead, he offered a handful of cosmetic changes that did nothing to alleviate anyone's concerns.

Perhaps realizing that Congress was starting to catch on after co-sponsors started to change their minds during the debate, Rogers halted debate on additional amendments and called for an immediate floor vote a day earlier than scheduled. In the end, CISPA passed 248-168.

But despite the climactic outcome of Thursday's vote, the battle over cybersecurity legislation is far from over. The same debate about privacy still looms in the Senate, where at least now, many of the same concerns will be front and center. A Senate version of the bill, sponsored by Sen. Joe Lieberman (I-Conn.), contains many of the same exceptions to federal privacy law. Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.), who doesn't think Lieberman's bill goes far enough, is sponsoring a competing bill that would actually require that more control over the Internet be handed to the NSA.

But the debate over privacy is bigger than any of these bills. It has become increasingly clear that just about any U.S. regulation of the Internet affects users worldwide, both in practice and -- perhaps even more crucially -- as model legislation for other governments. Just as SOPA would have allowed for the censorship of foreign websites (in fact, those were its target), CISPA allows companies to access any communications -- foreign or domestic -- which could then end up in the hands of the U.S. government. Global Internet users have taken notice, with the NGO Avaaz gathering almost 800,000 signatures against CISPA, many of which are from people outside the United States.

The Obama administration's "Internet freedom" agenda -- already tarnished -- is on the line, and at least this time, officials seem to realize that their actions will have a direct effect on their foreign policy. CISPA came to a floor vote the same week that the Obama administration issued an executive order targeting U.S. companies that sell censorship and surveillance gear to Iran and Syria. The order, though a step in the right direction, came under harsh criticism given that the NSA is allegedly still running much of its warrantless wiretapping program -- first exposed in 2005 by the New York Times -- at the same time Obama is decrying mass surveillance in other countries.

There are signs, however, that the Obama administration is learning that it can't have a "do as I say, not as I do policy" when it comes to Internet freedom. During the SOPA debate, the State Department refused to comment on the bill despite virtually the entire tech industry complaining that it would amount to mass censorship. A spokesperson even released a statement at the time saying, "The Department of State does not provide comment on pending legislation," despite a provision that would have made much of the circumvention software it is funding -- to the tune of tens of millions of dollars -- illegal.

In stark contrast this time around, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton's senior advisor for innovation, Alec Ross, was the first U.S. official to definitively say, "The Obama administration opposes CISPA," as he matter-of-factly told the Guardian Monday. Prior to that, the administration had only released a broad statement saying that "privacy and civil liberties" should be preserved in any cybersecurity bill.

Given the increased attention to cybersecurity around the world, governments will watch and learn from the U.S. experience. If the United States continues to preach privacy and civil liberties abroad while Congress passes a privacy-destroying bill at home, the results will be much the same as CISPA: a bill designed for a legitimate purpose, used as another excuse to encroach on the freedoms of ordinary citizens.