Control and Resistance: An exploration of the use and impact of drones by the Israeli Defense Force in Gaza Author: Polly Vaughan Lyth Morgan Advisor: Dr. Kyle Grayson Submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts in International Studies School of Geography, Politics and Sociology, University of Newcastle Upon Tyne December 2015
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Control and Resistance:
An exploration of the use and impact of
drones by the Israeli Defense Force in Gaza
Author: Polly Vaughan Lyth Morgan
Advisor: Dr. Kyle Grayson
Submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the
degree of Master of Arts in International Studies
School of Geography, Politics and Sociology, University of
Newcastle Upon Tyne
December 2015
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Abstract
The paper traces the practices of drones by the Israeli Defense Force (IDF) in
Gaza. Focusing on the more micro-scale, subtle effects of drone use, the paper
first investigates how drones are being used to help enforce a ‘system of control’
in Gaza, using a loosely Foucauldian analysis to frame this. It then explores the
ways in which these practices impact the everyday lives of those that reside in
Gaza, centring towards the less visible, and therefore often ignored, impacts of
drones. Despite these mechanisms of control being effective, they are not
passively accepted in Gaza. Thus the paper challenges how everyday Palestinians
are often ignored or framed as ‘powerless’ by arguing that Palestinians do hold
agency and power. It sees that Palestinians resist drone practices (and the
occupation more widely), albeit in ways which seek to disrupt their subject
positions. Thus resistance here centres on Palestinians enabling themselves to
continue to live their lives ‘as much as possible’ within the parameters of the
IDF’s ‘system of control’.
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Acknowledgements First, a thank you to those who proof read my work, Robyn Morgan, Aaron Ben-Joseph and Alice Wakefield. Secondly, thank you to the staff in the Politics department, whom, for over four years, I have gained so much from. Special mention goes to Kyle Grayson who has provided me with support that surpasses what is expected from a supervisor.
1. Research aim……………………………………………………………………………………… 6 2. Justification of research……………………………………………………………………… 7 3. Methodology……………………………………………………………………………………… 9 4. Structure………………………………………………………………………………………….. 12
Chapter 1: How the IDF seek to control Palestinians in Gaza using drones.…… 14 1. Introduction…………………………………………………………………………………..… 14
2. Technological features of the drone………………………………………………… 17 3. The IDF’s vision of ‘control’ through drone use……………………………….. 17 3a. Control: legal devices…………………………………………………………. 18
3b. Control: social practices and coercive measures………………... 21 3c. Control: coercive measures that help implement social ……practices…………………………………………………………………………..… 28 3d. Control: bureaucratic apparatuses……………………….…………….. 31
Chapter 2: Everyday Resistance to the IDF’s drone practices in Gaza…….…….… 36 1. Introduction…………………………………………………………………………………..… 36 2. Everyday life in Gaza living under drones……………………………………….... 38 3. Reconceptualising ‘resistance’…………………………………………………….…... 42
3a. Everyday acts of resistance as political…………………………….…. 44 3b. Everyday acts of resistance as simultaneously individual and ……collective…………………………………………………………………………….. 45
4. Forms of everyday resistance to drone practices in Gaza………..……….. 46 4a. Survival and Self-help: evasion and masking…………………….... 48
MFA (Israeli) Ministry of Foreign Affairs PA Palestinian Authority
UAV Unmanned Aerial Vehicle
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Introduction
“There are three kinds of zenana. One watches over us and photographs
every move, every person. The second fires missiles at us. And the third
kind…its whole purpose is to annoy us, to drive us crazy.”
Mohammed Shurrab, Palestinian in Gaza (Hass, 2011: 28).
1. Research aim
The Israeli Defense Force’s (IDFs) technological development, production and
frequency of usage of unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs), often known colloquially
as ‘drones’, has proliferated since their inception in the late 1970s (Rodgers,
2014: 8; Opal-Rome, 2013). Drones, particularly since the Second Intifada, have
quickly become just one, yet a key component, of the system of control
operating in Gaza (Weizman, 2011: 119). The use of drones, alongside other
technologies and methods of ‘control’, has helped shape the shift in the nature
of ‘control’ in Gaza from one of physical occupation to ‘occupying from afar’. This
dissertation argues the IDF are using drones to try and control the minutiae of
daily life for those in Gaza and therefore intends to explore the workings of
power produced by drone use in Gaza and its everyday impact on Palestinians
residing there.
However current traditional conceptions of Israeli-Palestinian power relations do
not provide the mechanisms to cater to this task. They often portray power as
uni-directional, held in this case by the IDF. When Palestinians are recognised as
also commanding power, current discourse often perceives it to be located in the
hands of a few, often in the form of organised and violent groups such as Fatah
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or Hamas (see for example, Darweish and Rigby, 2015: 38; Schanzer: 2008). To
help mitigate this problem, this dissertation applies a loosely Foucauldian, post-
structural conception of power, which sees all Palestinians in Gaza as power-
holding and involved in power processes. It looks at how the IDF uses drones to
try and control those in Gaza, how this impacts the lives of Palestinians, and how
this is resisted. Thus this dissertation argues that through this attempt at control
using drones, a space is created in which Palestinians resist drone practices on a
daily basis.
2. Justification of research
There is an extensive body of research concerning the use of drones in the field
of politics. Despite that when drone practices are condemned it represents an
attempt to help defend victims of drone usage, there is an omission of academic
research that wields sufficient focus on the victims themselves and how drones
impact their lives. For example, Williams (2011) critiques the ‘asymmetries’ of
drones and how they create an unequal battlefield, but then interviews the
drone operators to identify how this impacts them psychologically. Likewise
Zehfuss (2011) and Halabi (2006) both criticise drones by examining their
relationship with ethics and the law. This is not to disregard the importance of
any of these approaches: all are crucial in scrutinising the use of drones
worldwide. But what many omit is a deeper understanding as to why this
matters, namely a focus on those impacted the most: the victims of drone
practices. Drone studies rarely give a platform to the voices of those whom the
drone are designed to observe and to kill: this means we have little sense of
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what life is like on a daily basis for those living under drones. Without these
voices, without letting the ‘subaltern speak’, we cannot help to empower those
we are writing in support of and we cannot know the true extent to which drone
practices are causing harm (Spivak, 1988: 271).
Drone use is increasingly widespread across the globe, but the place that is
victim to the most frequent and extensive use of drones is the Palestinian
population in the Occupied Territories (OT), particularly Gaza. The
Israel/Palestine conflict has spanned many decades and the use of surveillance
and force as a powerful strategy of imperial dominance is not new (Ashcroft et
al., 1998: 28; Rodgers, 2014: 106). Drones mark merely a relatively newer form
of this strategy. To say that studies of drones in the OT have been totally
neglected is an unfair allegation, but considering the extent to which those in the
OT are subjected to drone practices, few devote much attention to their usage.
This is in part due to the well-known secrecy of the IDF, which admits to using
drones but hides the extent of its usage (Pfeffer, 2013; Dobbing and Cole, 2014:
3).
When academics have focused on the use of drones in Gaza, they tend to
concentrate on the missile function of the drone, despite that the majority of
drones are unarmed and used in a surveillance capacity (Halabi, 2011: 197;
Human Rights Watch, 2009; Dreazen, 2014). This is not surprising in some ways
as the destruction of buildings and infrastructures as well as the deaths of
Palestinians are more visibly damaging. But this limits harm to something mainly
physical, as predominantly relevant when ‘large scale’ events occur, such as
when missiles are launched or during particularly concentrated times of war such
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as ‘Operation Edge’ in 2014 (see for example Cooper and Anderson, 2015). Yet
these examinations fail to look at the wider implications of drone warfare as well
as how macro level practices are shaped by micro level patterns, and vice versa
(Scott, 2009: 1). It neglects how for those in Gaza, drones constantly negatively
impact life and that impacts of drone use are long-enduring and long-reaching,
transpiring often in subtle and less direct ways.
3. Methodology
Similar themes emerge when looking at the macro-scale ontological approach
that many take when studying power relations between ‘controller’ and the
‘controlled’ more generally. This applies to the Palestinian context too, where
some are portrayed as violent, and as resisting only in the form of an organised
opposition group. This leaves those who do not directly involve themselves with
these groups to be portrayed as passive and accepting of this control. It also
ignores how ‘subaltern populations and communities of the disenfranchised can
bring about changes in their life-world through their quiet and unassuming daily
struggles’ (Bayat, 2013: 5).
Despite the literature on everyday life, micropolitics and resistance being well
established, many academics still do not consider how everyday forms of
resistance affect how operations designed to control are carried out. This
conception of power is arguably misconstrued and it also means that
understanding the workings of power at play here can only go so far using this
framework. This is why Foucault’s perception of power as diffused, as
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productive, as well as his move away from looking solely at the macro and
instead looking at the subtleties of everyday life is adopted as an ontological
approach here.
Naturally, writing about any contentious political issue wields problems, but few
are as explicitly contentious, sensitive, and (often) polarising as the Israel-
Palestine conflict. For this reason, measures to ensure sources are reliable are
especially thorough. Where substantial claims have been made, references are
triangulated, which involves seeking accounts from three or more perspectives,
using as many ‘independent’ sources as possible from sources largely perceived
as ‘credible’, as a way to cross-check a range of political stances and check for
false allegations (Pierce, 2006: 79).
This interpretivist epistemological stance and philosophy is hindered by some
practical constraints. With no primary access to Palestinians in Gaza, research
instead consists of textual analysis of witness accounts. Empirical claims are
backed using a mix of carefully selected studies from sources such as peer-
reviewed journals and books by academics, as well as NGO reports, and credible
newspaper sources. A key reason for this mix of sources is that NGOs are making
greater efforts to document the everyday impacts of drones in Gaza (see for
example, Saif, 2014; HRW, 2009). However they lack the theoretical
underpinnings that academic papers arguably better provide. At the same time,
due to the nature of the study carried out, some arguments are bolstered using
witness accounts including diaries. These kind of sources provide a window into
the minutest aspects of everyday events that might not be amenable from other
sources (Elliot, 1997: 187). The inclusion of these sources are vital, as they
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contain the voices of those of whom the dissertation is written to help, and
which also best unmask the questions at hand.
Case studies help gain a humanistic understanding and add to existing
experiences (Stake, 2000). Whilst these accounts come from individuals,
naturally individuals interpret and react to things differently. But equally, as
Maynes et al. (2008: 3) recognise, in many ways these accounts are never simply
individual, ‘but are told in historically specific ties and settings, and draw on the
rules and models in circulation that govern how story elements link together in
narrative logics’. Aspects of the system of control in Gaza, in this case drone
practices, impact differently upon each individual Palestinian. But all are targets
of control as they are all de facto subjects of the IDF and it is possible to identify
certain underlying routines and regularities in the behaviours of Palestinians in
Gaza. This tells us something about how the settings are socially organised as
individual responses are always embedded in their context, and therefore
provide unique insights into the connections between individual life trajectories
and collective forces beyond the individual.
It is important to be reflexive here, particularly as this commitment to creating a
valid picture of drone use in Gaza raises ethical issues as to who can speak for
whom as well as the problem of ‘can the subaltern speak?’ (Spivak, 1988: 271;
Clough, 2000: 284). But this research does not seek to ‘speak for’ those in Gaza,
neither does it claim to provide a truly valid insight into the lives of those
concerned. Instead this research shares the moral perspective of Scott (2009:
193) who views the social scientist as standing in a position of privileged power,
and therefore holding a responsibility to raise the voices of the marginalised in
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less powerful positions, otherwise unheard. Whilst it is impossible not to speak
for these marginalised groups as their experiences are always interpreted and
framed in the way the researcher decides, this problem is slightly alleviated by
using the claims Palestinians have made about their experiences to guide each
point. So despite these considerations, it is more important to try and raise these
issues described.
4. Structure
The dissertation is comprised of two chapters, the first focuses on the notion of
‘control’, and the latter looks at the impact these practices have on the everyday
lives of those in Gaza as well as how they are resisted. The first chapter begins by
trying to understand how, and in what ways, drones are being used by the IDF as
a key means to control those who reside in Gaza, defining ‘control’ using drones
as something reaching further than simple coercive measures. This opens room
to explore the array of mechanisms and devices that enable this effort to control
the behaviours and mindsets of those in Gaza. This chapter is heavily theoretical,
using the work of Foucault and other poststructuralist thinkers to help make
sense of the IDF’s actions here.
The next chapter has two key sections. Initially it draws upon the literature
surrounding everyday life to explore the impacts these practices have on those in
Gaza, focusing on the more subtle, often mundane and sometimes unconscious
ways drones are impacting on the livelihoods on those that reside there. Whilst
recognising that power is deeply concentrated in a single direction, the second
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half of the chapter argues that this attempt at control is resisted to an extent,
albeit in forms not usually included in traditional descriptions of resistance.
Finally, the conclusion seeks to pool these ideas together before reflecting upon
the importance and shortcomings of the research as well as the study’s broader
implications.
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Chapter 1: How the IDF use drones to
seek to control Palestinians in Gaza.
1. Introduction:
As described earlier, drones have been used by the IDF in some capacity since
their inception in the late 1970s and many argue that drones increasingly lie at
the heart of the Israel’s ‘system of control’ since the start of the Second Intifada
(Weizman, 2011: 119; Rogers, 2014: 8). This chapter argues the use of drones,
alongside other technologies and methods of ‘control’ have helped shape the
shift in the nature of ‘control’ in Gaza from one of physical occupation to
‘occupying from afar’. As the purpose of this dissertation is to analyse the
workings of power between the IDF and Palestinians in Gaza in relation to drone
use, this chapter seeks to gain a clearer understanding of how the drone enables
the IDF to try and control the everyday lives of those living in the Gaza Strip,
particularly emphasising the connection between Gaza use of drones to
Foucault’s panopticon metaphor.
The production of drones and their use in Gaza are inextricably linked to the
wider system of control Israel exerts over the Palestinian population more
generally. A key part of exerting this control is through employing a colonial style
of surveillance. Whilst the Palestinian Authority has some surveillance
mechanisms commonly associated with the state, these will not be discussed, as
the IDF is the key actor surveying the population of Gaza. Before justifying these
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assertions, it is important to clarify what is meant here by ‘control’. Neve Gordon
(2008: 2) best describes ‘control’ in the Israel/Palestine context as:
‘…not only the coercive mechanisms used to prohibit, exclude and repress people, but rather the entire array of institutions, legal devices, bureaucratic apparatuses, social practises, and physical edifices that operate both on the individual and the population in order to produce new modes of behaviour, habits, interests, tastes and aspirations.’
Gordon’s definition acknowledges the extent to which Israel’s system of control
is all-encompassing, permeating every aspect of life for those in Gaza. It also
recognises the range of levels the system operates on to achieve this. Most
importantly Gordon affirms the significance of non-violent forms of control, as
well as how control is targeted at both the individual and the population as a
whole. Although it is not mentioned in Gordon’s definition, surveillance plays a
prominent role in how these mechanisms are carried out. Wilson (2012: 273)
notices the IDF’s increasing focus on ‘visualization technologies’, demonstrating
how ‘securitisation through surveillance’ lies at the centre of the IDF’s strategy,
demonstrated by the immense assortment and magnitude of its surveillance
equipment. This means whilst the use of physical violence remains part of the
IDF’s repertoire of ‘control’, of increasingly greater importance is the role
surveillance plays.
It is important to stress that Gordon wrote this definition to capture Israel’s
whole system of control. Yet it is a useful definition to apply to different
practices of control employed by the IDF, including use of drones in Gaza. This
considered, this chapter will look individually at each of the mechanisms of
control described by Gordon, applying them to the practice of drones in Gaza,
exploring the power this commands for the IDF. However before these are
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analysed, the technological features of the drones need to be looked at to give
greater insight into the physical instrument that enables these practices to be
carried out.
2. Technological features of the drone
The technological features of the drone should never be considered as separate,
as if the advancement of drone technologies and its features has emerged
irrespective of context. Equally no military technologies should be treated as if
they are something detached from the human beings operating them: the
operator still decides how the visual data will be interpreted and understood
(Macgregor, 2005: 82; Kroener and Neyland, 2012: 145). That said, as long as this
principle is recognised, this does not mean the drone’s technical features cannot
first be analysed here in isolation. It is important to understand the features of
the drone as it helps us to better recognise how drones in Gaza currently
operate.
Essentially there are two main types of drone: surveillance and missile-launching
(De Shaw et al., 2014: 11). Both types are equipped with the former, but only
some can release missiles (Saif, 2014: 8). Whilst drones are unmanned they are
not unpiloted: crew are located at a land base to direct the craft and analyse the
video ‘data’ it collects (Shaw, 2013: 1). Drones can loiter in the skies from as high
as 60,000 feet, often invisible from the ground. Some, such as the Heron TP
remain aloft for up to 36 hours (Benjamin, 2012: 17). Although the Israeli military
will not confirm this, overwhelming evidence and witness accounts suggest
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drones are a permanent presence in the skies of Gaza (Graham, 2010: 42; Li,
2006: 48; Dobbing and Cole, 2014: 3).
Drones are well equipped with a range of sensors on-board. This includes
cameras, image intensifiers, radar, infra-red imaging for low-light conditions, and
lasers for targeting (Haggerty, 2006: 255; Rodgers, 2014: 98). Despite that many
portray the high-quality cameras fitted on drones as enabling drone operators to
‘see’ individuals on the ground with precision, others have proved this to be
largely unfounded, with targets often identified by a ‘blurry spot of colour’ (Saif,
2014: 22). To a certain degree, near-infrared and image-intensifiers gives the
operators some vision at night and through all weather conditions (Szetchman et
al., 2008: 28). These mean that with the removal of Israeli ground troops, the
drone can help the IDF observe terrain otherwise inaccessible.
3. The IDF’s vision of ‘control’ through drone use
Whilst Gordon’s definition of ‘control’ will be used as a guiding framework, two
devices laid out by Gordon are less relevant to this particular case at hand.
Firstly, ‘physical edifices’ in the form of the wall and its checkpoints are
important here, but only as far as the wall acts largely as a container to
Palestinians in Gaza, limiting the parameters the drones need to operate in. In a
similar vein, civil institutions such as educational and medical systems play a role
in relation to Israeli control more generally, but not directly to the practice of
drones here.
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Looking more specifically at the IDF’s operation of drones themselves, they do
not seem (in neither their surveillance nor killing capacity) to serve a single, or
even a limited set of purposes for control. Although discussing surveillance in
general, Lyon (2006: 29) sees how these practices often evolve in ‘unanticipated
ways, not always established in advance’. This belief is also applicable to Israel’s
system of control more generally, as well as the use of drones, particularly their
killing function. Put differently, in most part how the drone is used in Gaza, and
for what purpose, is not always a result of intense planning, but sometimes
determined by the immediate context and circumstances. The drone is just one
key instrument the IDF has employed that enables this reinvention of control.
3a. Control: legal devices
One device that enables the IDF’s drone operation lies with the law. To clarify,
there is a different nature of control in Gaza to the West Bank. The West Bank
has been under ‘full, direct and daily military control’ as well as ‘partial civilian
control’ since around 1967 (Shaul, 2015). In Gaza, the 2005 Disengagement Plan
marked the ‘removal’ of direct military control, meaning IDF troops no longer
had access to the ground (MFA, 2005). However, the Oslo process and Camp
David Negotiations had already granted Israel the right to access the ‘airspace
[over Palestine] and [its] electromagnetic spectrum and their supervision’ (Sher,
2001: 424).
This change in the law could be interpreted as allowing Israel to simultaneously
continue to control the Gaza Strip from afar and free themselves of legal
obligations of responsibility over the welfare of Gaza’s inhabitants. The
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international laws of occupation apply if a state has ‘effective control’ over the
territory in question. These are stated in The Hague Convention (1907) and the
Fourth Geneva Convention (1949), which impose general responsibility to the
occupying state for the safety and welfare of civilians living in this territory (ICRC,
2007). The Israeli government stated that implementing the plan would
‘invalidate the claims against Israel regarding its responsibility for the
Palestinians in the Gaza Strip’, directing them to the PA instead (MFA, 2004).1
The Plan also meant the IDF could benefit from increasing the safety of its troops
by removing them from the ground and be praised for making a step in the ‘right
direction’ towards ending the occupation. Weizman (2012: 11) argues this new
form of control ‘seeks to control the Palestinians from beyond the envelopes of
their walled-off spaces’, a process of ‘partial decolonization’ with one ‘system of
domination’ replacing another. Meaning the plan arguably just changed the form
of control, from a horizontal form to a vertical form from ‘afar’. The
Disengagement Plan therefore used the law as a catalyst to a welcomed shift
that merely reinvented the IDF’s general repertoire of control in Gaza.
As already alluded to, Israel’s relationship with Gaza arguably continues to be
colonial in nature, albeit in a modern form. This is because usually when a power
withdraws it abdicates control over the movement of the people. This would
mean Palestinians in Gaza were free to leave when they choose. However in
Gaza, despite that troops have withdrawn (although there are periodic instances
1 This is not to ignore how many still interpret that Israel still has an obligation under the law as it
still ‘effectively controls’ Gaza (see for example, BT Selem, 2015).
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where they re-enter), Israel is using other means to prevent this movement,
notably in the form of the physical edifice of the wall and its checkpoints, and
increasingly using drones too.
This change in law relied on a modification of military technology. Li (2006: 38)
observes how being largely limited to vertical space, makes airpower an ‘integral,
if not leading component of Israel’s management of the Gaza Strip’. The IDF
explicitly verifies this, with the Head of the Israeli Air Force, Amir Eshel, stating
that the IDF’s ‘vision of air control zeroes in on the notion of control’, adding that
the IDF looks at ‘how you control a city or a territory from the air when it’s no
longer legitimate to hold or occupy that territory from the ground’ (Opall-Rome,
2004). Airpower includes a range of military equipment such as air balloons,
helicopters and military jets, all of which still operate alongside drones (Gordon,
2008: 203; Weizman, 2007: 240). However, as already outlined, the aerial drone
brings unique benefits compared to other forms of airpower and it is these
features that fit so well with the shift in how Gaza is controlled.
Jones (2015: 1-14) points out that this shows how increasingly states like Israel
use the law as ‘a political tool to achieve its own military ends’, seeking to
‘legitimise’ their war tactics through abusing the rule of law, calling this ‘lawfare’.
For example the Israeli Supreme Court interprets targeted killing as falling under
human rights law or under the laws of war when better suited. In fact Israel
publicly proclaims the legality of ‘pre-emptive targeted killing’, with officials
asserting this as lawful on the basis that the ‘laws of war permit states to kill
their enemies’ and that ’Israel needs to protect itself from terror’ (MFA, 2009).
Officials add that with no ground access to Gaza, targeted individuals are ‘ticking
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bombs’ with assassination as a legitimate form of national defence because
suspects could not be arrested (MFA, 2009; Guiora, 2004: 319-334).
Much of this is simultaneously achieved by frequently declaring a ‘state of
emergency’, meaning that various laws to protect Palestinians can be waived,
and Israel can justify certain acts otherwise illegal such as drone strikes (PMO,
2011). In this sense the IDF can be seen as attempting to play into common
discourse that if something is legal it will be regarded acceptable. Alongside
‘lawfare’, and in recognition that not everyone buys in to this means of
‘legitimisation’, the IDF tries to uphold high levels of secrecy in its drone
operations, often denying drone accusations by Palestinians and their
sympathisers (Gordon, 2004: 309). The Israeli state also recognises that, in
incidences where neither of these hold, it can try to justify deadly use of force by
claiming pre-planned kill operations were ‘arrest operations that went awry’
(Strawser et al, 2014: 44; Black, 2014). Put clearly, the Israeli state enables its
drone operation in Gaza through secrecy and by using whichever legal
framework best protects itself in each incidence.
3b. Control: social practices and coercive measures
The law is a key device that enables certain social practices and coercive
measures to be carried out using drones. Social practices refer to everyday
practices and the way these are typically and habitually performed in society
(Reckwitz, 2002: 243). Largely invisible from the ground, the drones’ vertical
access allows the IDF’s control to be more covert than previous forms of warfare,
meaning they can track those on the ground often unbeknown to them. The
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drones’ loitering and camera surveillance function allows the IDF to map
territory and buildings; collect data on individuals over a significant period of
time and track the spaces and places in which people operate their everyday
lives. Graham (2010: 24) notes how the IDF targets ‘essential city infrastructures’
in attempt to ‘demodernize’ societies through the destruction of infrastructure
in Gaza. Drones are used to identify key buildings to destroy. For example, this
was the fate of Gaza’s ‘Al-Aqsa’ media centre and its main power station (HRW,
2012; Lubell, 2014; Black, 2014). Often structures built close to the border are
identified using drones for demolition to extend Israeli territory (HRW, 2004;
Halper, 2015: 44). Besides loss of life and costs of rebuilding, these destructions
make Palestinians feel vulnerable and limit daily practices such as catching-up
with news.
This also means the IDF has a significant advantage over the Palestinians,
granting near-full observation of those in Gaza and having the military advantage
of knowing where Palestinian resistance is located. Of note is the IDF’s
‘swarming’ technique’ whereby an individual is ‘followed’, sometimes for weeks,
by a ‘swarm’ of drones. This allows the IDF to establish the individual’s daily
habits and routines by having a constant visual watch on them, often with the
intent to kill (Weizman, 2012: 241). This covertness also makes it harder for
individuals or opposition groups to monitor and track the drones, making it
harder to protect themselves from surveillance and attack and enabling drone
operations to continue.
The significance of the drone is not just about enabling the IDF to utilise this
access to space vertically. So much of the system of control employed in Gaza
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relies on producing a certain type of asymmetric power. The drone gives
operators the ability to look down over Gaza from above, creating what Donna
Haraway (1988: 29) famously coined ‘the god-trick’. Foucault alludes to a similar
idea in his analysis of a series of paintings of dogs by Paul Rebeyrolle, which
stress the significance of having access to vertical space alone and the
implications on power this has. He writes: ‘In the world of prisons, as in the
world of dogs, the vertical is not one of the dimensions of space, it is the
dimension of power’ (Foucault, 1973: 170). Thus Foucault and Haraway highlight
the superiority of the ability to watch from above to see a larger picture in
contrast to those on the more limiting ground.
But Haraway’s ‘god-trick’ is more than the obvious military advantage of seeing
more than those on the ground, it creates a power dynamic reminiscent of
colonial power whereby judgments are perceived to be made from a superior
source of knowledge and from a perceived objective moral standpoint (Haraway,
1988: 29). Reiterating an earlier observation, the discursive view that technology
brings ‘objectivity’ furthers this assertion. It creates a system that assumes the
watchful eye is an ‘objective’ eye, as if the drone operator does not hold a
subjective ability or an objective agenda to process and interpret what they see
(Ashcroft et al., 2013: 48). This, amongst other things, is likely designed by the
IDF to instil a feeling in Gaza that the IDF’s acts are morally based, attempting to
infuse a vulnerability and a sense of ‘subalternity and powerlessness’ to those
below by making Palestinians feel as if they are being watched (Dahan et al.,
2012: 28).
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In this sense, one way drones are being used is in the form of collective control.
As rather than identifying ‘known’ individuals by tracking their personal
characteristics, the IDF seeks to control the population through identifying
certain patterns of life, to detect groups that need to be monitored by
identifying certain characteristics by dividing up the population. Shaw (2013: 13)
points out how these ‘patterns of life’ are assessed on the ‘potential to become
dangerous’, extending the IDF’s focus from known threats to ‘potential threats’.
This is a form of what Foucault terms ‘biopolitical control’, as power is directed
at the control of the whole population.
This leads to a similar, but importantly distinct point to the two made already,
relating to how the drone is being used to imbue those underneath with the
perception their every move is being observed. This connotes to Foucault’s
interpretation of the panopticon metaphor. Some already note a resemblance to
the image of the drone loitering above the airspace of Gaza and its resemblance
to the panopticon (see for example, Hass, 2011: 28; Dahan, 2012; Sorek, 2011:
113). The panopticon is most often described as a prison hosting a central tower
from which it is possible to see each prisoner’s cell. Central is the notion the
prisoners can be observed at all times, but are never sure or aware of when they
are being observed or exactly who is observing them (Foucault, 1977: 198-202).
The panopticon metaphor is grounded on the aim of increasing efficiency.
Foucault (1977: 20) describes it as a ‘functional mechanism that must improve
the exercise of power by making it lighter, more rapid, more effective’. This
applies to the IDF too. As described earlier, whilst the IDF collects data from a
small number of individuals, it does not track every individual. Although multiple
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drones can operate at one time there are still limits to what the drone operator
can ‘see’, especially as the drone cannot see through walls or underground. It is
currently not possible to track every person at all times using drones: Gaza is the
most densely populated urban landscape in the world with a population of
almost two million (CIA, 2015).
Not only is it impractical to maintain control this way, this practice alone
commands the IDF limited power. This is why central to the panopticon is the
notion that it is a space whereby each prisoner feels their bodily actions are
being watched under the scrutinising eye of the guard in the central watchtower.
According to Foucault (1977:20) this is a design of subtle coercion whereby
inhabitants feel they must self-regulate behaviour in accordance to what they
perceive is ‘acceptable’ in the eyes of the controlling power, producing a
‘disciplinary’ form of power. Thus disciplinary power aspires to ‘fix’ people’s
‘undesirable’ actions by ‘means of tight control over the minutest acts and
behaviours’ (Handel, 2011: 262). This argues that the IDF see a more efficient use
of the drones than constant-watch is to form a degree of control on their
subjects through shaping their behaviours.
This form of power aims to do more than change people’s physical actions; it
seeks to permeate people’s minds within, which Deleuze criticises Foucault for
failing to recognise. Deleuze (1988: 34) sees that key to the panoptic mechanism
is the aim to ‘impose a particular conduct’. However the objective of the
panopticon metaphor is not just about influencing physical actions, but the
‘potential to instil self-discipline through making the subject aware they are
being watched’ (Sorek, 2011: 113). Thus disciplinary mechanisms ideally aim to
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gradually change people’s perceptions on whether certain actions are morally
right or wrong, and this in turn, will be internalised by subtly changing their
thought processes, mind-sets and beliefs. This means disciplinary power is
implemented from above but operates from below, in attempt to impose
homogeneity over the population’s individual thoughts and modify their daily
practices. Thus it aims to simultaneously render people ‘docile’ and
‘individualise’ inhabitants by making it possible to detect differences among the
population to pick out those that need to be watched more closely (Mitchell,
1991: 93).
Foucault (1977: 200–202) saw that for panoptic power to compel obedience
power must appear always present and this relied on two things: visibility and
non-verifiability. Elmer (2014: 24) sees this did not mean Foucault saw the
panopticon as all-seeing or all-registered, ‘but a landscape that could at any time
impact in an individual a likelihood of surveillance’. It is a system of non-
verifiable power where one can never be certain if they are being observed but is
sure there is a strong likelihood he will be so (Foucault, 1977: 201).
The notion of ‘visibility’ here is less clear-cut. The ‘swarming’ technique
described earlier considered the advantage of being invisible in terms of its
ability to monitor (and sometimes kill) subjects unbeknown to those on the
ground. When Foucault (1977, 201) describes visibility he comments on how the
inmate will constantly have the tall outline of the central tower from which he is
spied on before his eyes. This suggests the IDF’s strategy relies on one of
invisibility rather than visibility. But arguably Foucault does not define ‘visible’
here as something the eye sees, but visible in the sense of awareness of a
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presence. In Gaza, when multiple drones ‘swarm’ together at once, those on the
ground can hear the ‘zenana’, or know of their presence due to ‘fuzziness’ on
their televisions (Halper, 2015: 184; Wilson, 2011).2
Even so it is hard to calculate how effective disciplinary techniques the IDF uses
are. For these reasons the panopticon and its disciplinary power are relevant, but
should be taken as a light metaphor, a starting point at how in a dystopic setting
the IDF could control those in Gaza. This will be further examined in the
subsequent chapter. There are other shortcomings to the panoptic metaphor
relevant to the use of drones in Gaza. More generally in surveillance studies, in
many ways for good reason, some shy away from the panoptic metaphor. Many
subscribe to Deleuze’s ‘Postscript on the Societies of Control’ (1995: 4) as a
corrective to Foucault’s panopticon, highlighting what he regards as a shift in the
18th century from ‘disciplinary societies’ to ‘societies of control’. This marks the
panopticon and its disciplinary function as a limited program designed to keep
watch over confined populations, seeing that global societies no longer live in an
‘enclosure’ as Foucault claimed (Deleuze, 1995: 5).
Clearly in one sense Gaza is confined: it is commonly described as an ‘open-air
prison’ as it is so difficult to leave (see for example Tax, 2014; Benjamin, 2013:
74). But what Deleuze alludes to here is the interconnected nature of the
surveillance system of control, rather than a system where the individual passes
from one closed space to another as Foucault asserts. This change to a ‘control’
society means individuals can be permanently tracked. Just because Gaza is a
fairly exceptional case, with the key observer being the IDF rather than its own
2 ‘Zenana’ denotes the name Palestinians give to the ‘buzzing’ sound of the drone.
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state, this does not mean the panopticon metaphor or disciplinary power is
made redundant but that it needs adapting to Gaza’s context.
3c. Control: coercive measures that help implement social practices
But these disciplinary and biopolitical social practices cannot implement control
through the presence of surveillance drones alone. Another part of the drone
that enables the IDF to attempt to ‘control’ lives in Gaza lies with using coercion
in the form of the drone’s missile function. Achille Mbembe (2003: 11-12)
recognises this, extending Foucault’s writing on power by arguing there is more
to control than disciplinary and biopower power. Mbembe (2003: 11) sees in
large part, ‘the power and capacity to dictate who may live and who must die’ is
the ‘ultimate expression’ of sovereignty and control, coining this ‘necropower’. If
biopower denotes how physical bodies are subjugated and made to behave in
certain ways as a microcosm of social control over the wider population,
necropower is about wielding autonomy over another’s life, a mixture of
disciplinary power and biopolitics (Foucault, 2010: 84; Mbembe, 2003). This
commonality of autonomy over life make biopower and necropower two sides of
the same coin. Although Mbembe was writing before the proliferation of drones,
it is clear drones with their capacity to release ‘targeted’ missiles means the
concept of necropower is still appropriate in Gaza.
Clearly the ability to decide who lives or dies is an important form of ‘control’,
but as mentioned and justified earlier; this dissertation centres on the
surveillance aspect of the drone. Similarly, although drone attacks are fairly
common, in lots of ways directing too much analysis on the killing per se diverts
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away from the commitment to focus on everyday life. This considered, killing
Palestinians in Gaza helps the IDF to attain the power to control those who
remain alive as evoking a fear of being watched only becomes a reality if a
person feels there is evidence, or reason to believe there are negative
consequences to certain behaviours. It seems this explains in part why violent
attacks are carried out periodically, often using drone missiles to strike
individuals, smaller groups, buildings and infrastructure.
As Weizman (2007: 238) explains, periodic attacks on Palestinians (this should be
extended to include destruction of infrastructure and homes) can no longer be
explained simply as ‘terrorist prevention’ as whilst ‘targeted killings’ are often
carried out on those the IDF perceives as ‘terrorists’, it could be argued the IDF is
aware these killings are not going to ‘protect’ Israeli territory and its people as
they have other mechanisms in place to assure this such as the defensive ‘iron
dome’ (see for example, Armstrong, 2014).
Instead these attacks are best seen as death tactics or ‘thanato-tactics’ as
Weizman (2011: 125) describes them. They are small-scale, but fairly regular
killings, that act as a reminder to the rest of the population that, as individuals,
they must act and behave in accordance to what the IDF perceives as ‘correct’.
They are limited in number, arguably to discourage large-scale retaliation, and to
limit international attention and condemnation in order to preserve Israel’s
political hegemony, but frequent enough to send a message that non-
compliance will be punished by death and destruction (Weizman, 2011: 130).
This military tactic has often been described as ‘cutting the grass’, with those
who advocate this strategy framing it as a defensive tool designed to undermine
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the ability of terror groups to threaten Israel’s security (Shaul, 2015). For others,
it is a device that enables the IDF to preserve control by continuously ensuring
Palestinians remain weak and vulnerable, as these periodic attacks seek to
spread fear and evoke psychological trauma (Feffer, 2014).
Shaul (2015), a former Israeli soldier and the founder of Palestinian rights group
‘Breaking the Silence’, describes how his involvement in ‘countless operations
aimed at ‘lowering the heads’ of Palestinians’, designed to demonstrate that the
‘IDF are always present in every place’. Again, the buzz or ‘zenana’, of the drone
contributes to this logic, a near-constant auditory reminder of the possibility of
imminent death, an attempt to encourage the Palestinians in Gaza to consider
how they conduct their every move (Hussain, 2013). Mbembe (2003: 40)
captures this sentiment in his description of how necropower ensures ‘vast
populations are subjected to conditions of life conferring upon them the status
of the living dead’.
To go back to Weizman (2007: 210), and to comment more wholesomely on the
role of the missile function of the drone and its relation to influencing social
behaviour and control, the ‘thanato-tactics’ surrounding the drone are intended
to try and maintain a sufficient level of security and political influence in Gaza. It
allows control to be maintained without carrying out too many attacks. This
reduces financial costs as well as limiting international attention and
condemnation. Put differently, it means Israel can attempt to continue its
mission without facing significant political repercussions.
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3d. Control: bureaucratic apparatuses
‘Necropower’ and the ‘killing’ function of the drone are further relevant here. As
already discussed, the argument Israel uses surveillance on Palestinians to secure
itself from threat is not unfounded, but it is clear the system of control it has in
place is disproportionate to the threat posed. This begs the question as to why
such disproportionate force is used and how Israel is able to continue this
process. Arguably the connection here, as Parisi (2004) argues, is with the notion
of ‘life’ which lies central to bio-genetic capitalism, an opportunity for financial
investments and potential profit. This fits into Deleuze’s work on ‘Societies of
Control’ as a significant part of Deleuze’s focus surrounds the relationship
between surveillance and control, and their connection to global capitalism.
The correlation between Israel’s booming international drone industry (and
military and policing technology more generally) and its increased use of drones
and violence in the Palestinian Territories is strong. Put differently, profit can be
gained from exporting missile-launching drones and surveillance technologies.
This has provoked accusations by some that the IDF is using Gaza as a
‘laboratory’, a testing ground for the development of drones as well as other
weapons, security systems models of population control and tactics (See for