Grégory Chamayou's Drone Theory
12/06/25
Long captivated by drone warfare, though over a decade late to this book, the further droneification of conflict seen in the Russo-Ukrainian war makes Drone Theory a more timely read than ever (though it obviously cannot account for the newest developments in autonomous technology). Chamayou is a vividly articulate writer who manages to merge technocratic jargon, philosophical interrogation, and ethical examination into one seamless, if heavy, tome.
What stood out to me most was the comparison between drones and the ‘Eye of God’. When you begin to place yourself in the shoes of those who live under drone-infested skies, the idea that you are at the mercy of an omnipotent, omnipresent force is actualised in a dystopian hellscape descending from above. Safety is little but a bygone experience. It is when Chamayou captures the essential everyday fear that drones induce that he most effectively achieves his intended purpose of assailing the modern military’s favourite new toy.
What is warfare if out of touch with the enemy? While many an author and scriptwriter have been eager to paint many a death in war with futility, there is a fundamental question at the heart of Drone Theory about whether, if these creatives are correct, they have encouraged a military-cultural zeitgeist that seeks to avert consequence at all costs. Even if we avoid one tragedy, the death of a mother’s son in war, is that worth the death of all that is sacred about war, whether sacrifice, valour, or inexplicable passion?
A 2024 SPEC LIGHT DRONE, IMAGE: JACEK HALICKI
While its detail-oriented nature will impress many a reader, Drone Theory is insatiably dense. This harms its ability to achieve what it intends in a rather acute manner. While providing solutions to issues is not a prerequisite for a text to raise issues, Chamayou’s unique desire to do so is where my only substantive qualm can be found. The book is so detailed and comprehensive that I found it the opposite of the call to arms that it sets out to be. For someone who is already an anti-drone campaigner, it is a work of scripture, but for someone who is attempting to be open to the arguments of both sides (as any considered mind ought to be), it presents the drone issue as a lost cause.
Though this is a testament to Chamayou’s thoroughness, it brings a Nietzsche-esque pessimism to the fore, not mobilising a cause but solemnly accepting an undesirable outcome. The opening recounts the communications of the Daikundi drone/helicopter attack, a climacteric and tone-setting example of the US’ death from above. And just like the drones, the twisted logic of their warfare just keeps on coming, salvo after salvo. You certainly have to stop occasionally and just try to grapple with it all.
The rise of necro-ethics and the policing of foreign states through the lens of the camera, safe in the comfort of a military-grade armchair, is not an image that infuriates, but one that depresses. As far as criticisms go, this is a complimentary one: Drone Theory is so remarkably capable of immersing readers in the woes of drone warfare that it cannot provide a compelling alternative to fuel the fire of change.
Packed with countless unbelievable examples and powerful metaphors, for someone willing to set out on a sea of hard-hitting despair, there are few better books out there. There are almost no texts that are too detailed for their own good, but while Chamayou has, beyond any reasonable doubt, outlined how we’re trapped in a horrifying maze of modern warfare, he, just like the rest of us, doesn’t know the way out either.