What is your alma mater up to?
The divestment campaigns launched last spring by students protesting Israel’s mass slaughter in Gaza brought the issue of the militarization of American higher education back into the spotlight.
Of course, financial ties between the Pentagon and American universities are nothing new. As Stuart Leslie has pointed out in his seminal book on the topic, The Cold War and American Science, “In the decade following World War II, the Department of Defense (DOD) became the biggest patron of American science.” Admittedly, as civilian institutions like the National Institutes of Health grew larger, the Pentagon’s share of federal research and development did decline, but it still remained a source of billions of dollars in funding for university research.
And now, Pentagon-funded research is once again on the rise, driven by the DOD’s recent focus on developing new technologies like weapons driven by artificial intelligence (AI). Combine that with an intensifying drive to recruit engineering graduates and the forging of partnerships between professors and weapons firms and you have a situation in which many talented technical types could spend their entire careers serving the needs of the warfare state. The only way to head off such a Brave New World would be greater public pushback against the military conquest (so to speak) of America’s research and security agendas, in part through resistance by scientists and engineers whose skills are so essential to building the next generation of high-tech weaponry.
The Pentagon Goes to School
Yes, the Pentagon’s funding of universities is indeed rising once again and it goes well beyond the usual suspects like MIT or Johns Hopkins University. In 2022, the most recent year for which full data is available, 14 universities received at least — and brace yourself for this — $100 million in Pentagon funding, from Johns Hopkins’s astonishing $1.4 billion (no, that is not a typo!) to Colorado State’s impressive $100 million. And here’s a surprise: two of the universities with the most extensive connections to our weaponry of the future are in Texas: the University of Texas at Austin (UT-Austin) and Texas A&M.
In 2020, Texas Governor Greg Abbott and former Army Secretary Ryan McCarthy appeared onstage at a UT-Austin ceremony to commemorate the creation of a robotics lab there, part of a new partnership between the Army Futures Command and the school. “This is ground zero for us in our research for the weapons systems we’re going to develop for decades to come,” said McCarthy.
Not to be outdone, Texas A&M is quietly becoming the Pentagon’s base for research on hypersonics — weapons expected to travel five times the speed of sound. Equipped with a kilometer-long tunnel for testing hypersonic missiles, that school’s University Consortium for Applied Hypersonics is explicitly dedicated to outpacing America’s global rivals in the development of that next generation military technology. Texas A&M is also part of the team that runs the Los Alamos National Laboratory, the (in)famous New Mexico facility where the first nuclear weapons were developed and tested as part of the Manhattan Project under the direction of Robert Oppenheimer.
Other major players include Carnegie Mellon University, a center for Army research on the applications of AI, and Stanford University, which serves as a feeder to California’s Silicon Valley firms of all types. That school also runs the Technology Transfer for Defense (TT4D) Program aimed at transitioning academic technologies from the lab to the marketplace and exploring the potential military applications of emerging technology products.
In addition, the Pentagon is working aggressively to bring new universities into the fold. In January 2023, Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin announced the creation of a defense-funded research center at Howard University, the first of its kind at a historically black college.
Given the campus Gaza demonstrations of last spring, perhaps you also won’t be surprised to learn that the recent surge in Pentagon spending faces increasing criticism from students and faculty alike. Targets of protest include the Lavender program, which has used AI to multiply the number of targets the Israeli armed forces can hit in a given time frame. But beyond focusing on companies enabling Israel’s war effort, current activists are also looking at the broader role of their universities in the all-American war system.
For example, at Indiana University research on ties to companies fueling the killings in Gaza grew into a study of the larger role of universities in supporting the military system as a whole. Student activists found that the most important connection involved that university’s ties to the Naval Surface Warfare Center, Crane Division, whose mission is “to provide acquisition, engineering… and technical support for sensors, electronics, electronic warfare, and special warfare weapons.” In response, student activists have launched a “Keep Crane Off Campus” campaign.
A Science of Death or for Life?
Graduating science and engineering students increasingly face a moral dilemma about whether they want to put their skills to work developing instruments of death. Journalist Indigo Olivier captured that conflict in a series of interviews with graduating engineering students. She quotes one at the University of West Florida who strongly opposes doing weapons work this way: “When it comes to engineering, we do have a responsibility… Every tool can be a weapon… I don’t really feel like I need to be putting my gifts to make more bombs.” By contrast, Cameron Davis, a 2021 computer engineering graduate from Georgia Tech, told Olivier about the dilemma faced by so many graduating engineers: “A lot of people that I talk to aren’t 100% comfortable working on defense contracts, working on things that are basically going to kill people.” But he went on to say that the high pay at weapons firms “drives a lot of your moral disagreements with defense away.”
The choice faced by today’s science and engineering graduates is nothing new. The use of science for military ends has a long history in the United States. But there have also been numerous examples of scientists who resisted dangerous or seemingly unworkable military schemes. When President Ronald Reagan announced his “Star Wars” missile defense plan in 1986, for instance, he promised, all too improbably, to develop an impenetrable shield that would protect the United States from any and all incoming nuclear-armed missiles. In response, physicists David Wright and Lisbeth Gronlund circulated a pledge to refuse to work on that program. It would, in the end, be signed by more than 7,000 scientists. And that document actually helped puncture the mystique of the Star Wars plan, a reminder that protest against the militarization of education isn’t always in vain.
Scientists have also played a leading role in pressing for nuclear arms control and disarmament, founding organizations like the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists(1945), the Federation of American Scientists (1945), the global Pugwash movement (1957), the Council for a Livable World (1962), and the Union of Concerned Scientists (1969). To this day, all of them continue to work to curb the threat of a nuclear war that could destroy this planet as a livable place for humanity.
A central figure in this movement was Joseph Rotblat, the only scientist to resign from the Manhattan Project over moral qualms about the potential impact of the atomic bomb. In 1957, he helped organize the founding meeting of the Pugwash Conference, an international organization devoted to the control and ultimate elimination of nuclear weapons. In some respects Pugwash was a forerunner of the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons (ICAN), which successfully pressed for the U.N. Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons, which entered into force in January 2021.
Enabling Endless War and Widespread Torture
The social sciences also have a long, conflicted history of ties to the Pentagon and the military services. Two prominent examples from earlier in this century were the Pentagon’s Human Terrain Program (HTS) and the role of psychologists in crafting torture programs associated with the Global War on Terror, launched after the 9/11 attacks with the invasion of Afghanistan.
The HTS was initially intended to reduce the “cultural knowledge gap” suffered by U.S. troops involved in counterinsurgency operations in Afghanistan and Iraq early in this century. The theory was that military personnel with a better sense of local norms and practices would be more effective in winning “hearts and minds” and so defeating determined enemies on their home turf. The plan included the deployment of psychologists, anthropologists, and other social scientists in Human Terrain Teams alongside American troops in the field.
Launched in 2007, the program sparked intense protests in the academic community, with a particularly acrimonious debate within the American Anthropological Association. Ed Liebow, the executive director of the association, argued that its debate “convinced a very large majority of our members that it was just not a responsible way for professional anthropologists to conduct themselves.” After a distinctly grim history that included “reports of racism, sexual harassment, and payroll padding,” as well as a belief by many commanders that Human Terrain Teams were simply ineffective, the Army quietly abandoned the program in 2014.
An even more controversial use of social scientists in the service of the war machine was the role of psychologists as advisors to the CIA’s torture programs at Abu Ghraib in Iraq, the Guantánamo Bay detention center in Cuba, and other of that agency’s “black sites.” James E. Mitchell, a psychologist under contract to U.S. intelligence, helped develop the “enhanced interrogation techniques” used by the U.S during its post-9/11 “war on terror,” even sitting in on a session in which a prisoner was waterboarded. That interrogation program, developed by Mitchell with psychologist John Bruce Jessom, included resorting to “violence, sleep deprivation, and humiliation.”
The role of psychologists in crafting the CIA’s torture program drew harsh criticism within the profession. A 2015 report by independent critics revealed that the leaders of the American Psychological Association had “secretly collaborated with the administration of President George W. Bush to bolster a legal and ethical justification for the torture of prisoners swept up in the post-Sept. 11 war on terror.” Over time, it became ever clearer that the torture program was not only immoral but remarkably ineffective, since the victims of such torture often told interrogators what they wanted to hear, whether or not their admissions squared with reality.
That was then, of course. But today, resistance to the militarization of science has extended to the growing use of artificial intelligence and other emerging military technologies. For example, in 2018, there was a huge protest movement at Google when employees learned that the company was working on Project Maven, a communications network designed to enable more accurate drone strikes. More than 4,000 Google scientists and engineers signed a letter to company leadership calling for them to steer clear of military work, dozens resigned over the issue, and the protests had a distinct effect on the company. That year, Google announced that it would not renew its Project Maven contract, and pledged that it “will not design or deploy AI” for weapons.
Unfortunately, the lure of military funding was simply too strong. Just a few years after those Project Maven protests, Google again began doing work for the Pentagon, as noted in a 2021 New York Times report by Daisuke Wakabayashi and Kate Conger. Their article pointed to Google’s “aggressive pursuit” of the Joint Warfighting Cloud Capability project, which will attempt to “modernize the Pentagon’s cloud technology and support the use of artificial intelligence to gain an advantage on the battlefield.” (Cloud technology is the term for the delivery of computing services over the internet.)
Meanwhile, a cohort of Google workers has continued to resist such military projects. An October 2021 letter in the British Guardian from “Google and Amazon workers of conscience” called on the companies to “pull out of Project Nimbus [a $1.2 billion contract to provide cloud computing services to the Israeli military and government] and cut all ties with the Israeli military.” As they wrote then, “This contract was signed the same week that the Israeli military attacked Palestinians in the Gaza Strip — killing nearly 250 people, including more than 60 children. The technology our companies have contracted to build will make the systematic discrimination and displacement carried out by the Israeli military and government even crueler and deadlier for Palestinians.”
Of course, their demand seems even more relevant today in the context of the war on Gaza that had then not officially begun.
The Future of American Science
Obviously, many scientists do deeply useful research on everything from preventing disease to creating green-energy options that has nothing to do with the military. But the current increases in weapons research could set back such efforts by soaking up an ever larger share of available funds, while also drawing ever more top talent into the military sphere.
The stakes are particularly high now, given the ongoing rush to develop AI-driven weaponry and other emerging technologies that pose the risk of everything from unintended slaughter due to system malfunctions to making war more likely, given the (at least theoretical) ability to limit casualties for the attacking side. In short, turning back the flood of funding for military research and weaponry from the Pentagon and key venture capital firms will be a difficult undertaking. After all, AI is already performing a wide range of military and civilian tasks. Banning it altogether may no longer be a realistic goal, but putting guardrails around its military use might still be.
Such efforts are, in fact, already underway. The International Committee for Robot Arms Control (ICRAC) has called for an international dialogue on “the pressing dangers that these systems pose to peace and international security and to civilians.” ICRAC elaborates on precisely what these risks are: “Autonomous systems have the potential to accelerate the pace and tempo of warfare, to undermine existing arms controls and regulations, to exacerbate the dangers of asymmetric warfare, and to destabilize regional and global security, [as well as to] further the indiscriminate and disproportionate use of force and obscure the moral and legal responsibility for war crimes.”
The Future of Life Institute has underscored the severity of the risk, noting that “more than half of AI experts believe there is a one in ten chance this technology will cause our extinction.”
Instead of listening almost exclusively to happy talk about the military value of AI by individuals and organizations that stand to profit from its adoption, isn’t it time to begin paying attention to the skeptics, while holding back on the deployment of emerging military technologies until there is a national conversation about what they can and can’t accomplish, with scientists playing a central role in bringing the debate back to earth?
This article was reposted with permission from Tom Dispatch.
Now that South Korea’s Constitutional Court has upheld the impeachment of President Yoon Suk-yeol, attention is now focused on the upcoming snap election to replace him, with the opposition Democratic Party leader, Lee Jae-myung, with a hefty lead in the polls.
A Lee victory would likely lead to major modifications in Seoul’s foreign policy and a possible convergence of interests with Donald Trump in defusing tensions with North Korea, if the U.S. president decides to resume his aborted courtship of Pyongyang’s leader, Kim Jong Un.
In any event, the Constitutional Court’s decision and the formal removal of Yoon Suk-yeol marks a return to normalcy after a period of uncertainty and drift in South Korea that was touched off by what the judges determined was Yoon’s unconstitutional declaration of martial law and deployment of troops to the National Assembly.
Yoon’s power grab, which was effectively undone when hundreds of thousands of citizens rallied to protect the parliament, also provoked a financial crisis. As foreign investors sold off nearly $1 billion in shares in the three days after the martial law declaration December 3, the South Korean won plummeted to its lowest value against the dollar since the 2008-09 global financial meltdown.
Meanwhile, South Korea’s foreign policy engagement has been virtually paralyzed. The leadership vacuum and limited diplomatic capacity constrained Seoul’s much-needed engagement with the new Trump administration to discuss key issues, such as regional security cooperation and addressing tensions over elevated U.S. tariffs. On the whole, the political crisis has kept South Korea out of the Trump administration’s priority list, as evidenced by Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth’s skipping of South Korea during his recent trip to East Asia, which included visits to Japan and the Philippines.
What are the implications for the U.S.-South Korea alliance and regional geopolitics in East Asia in the case of Lee Jae-myung’s arrival as the next leader in Seoul?
Lee has made a full recovery after being stabbed in the neck by a man pretending to be a supporter at a campaign rally in January 2024. He has been a vocal critic of Yoon Suk-yeol’s so-called “values-based diplomacy,” which hinged on the idea of cooperating with democracies to confront autocracies. Instead, Lee has advocated foreign policy pragmatism. While supporting a close security alliance with the United States, Lee has also emphasized the need for proactive diplomacy with North Korea to reduce intensified military tensions on the Korean peninsula and to maintain cooperative relations with China and Russia. “I’m a realist,” said Lee in an interview with the Wall Street Journal.
There are apparent overlapping geopolitical interests between Trump and Lee that could allow both to work together — particularly on the issue of restarting nuclear talks with North Korea. Compared to Yoon, who was exceedingly hawkish toward North Korea, had minimal interest in diplomacy, and would have not reacted positively to Trump’s diplomatic overtures to Pyongyang, Lee likely will be a more suitable partner for Trump’s future diplomatic initiative with the North.
Lee has even appeared to empathize with Trump’s transactionalist style in some respects. “Trump would do anything to defend America’s own interests, even if that means having a tariff war with allies or engaging with an adversary to end the war in Ukraine,” he said. ”It’s something we should learn from.”
These apparent shared values between Lee and Trump could serve as a source of synergy if goals and interests align or a source of friction if goals and interests diverge. It remains to be seen whether the two sides will be able to manage potential differences and disagreements on issues such as tariffs, military cooperation against China, and the Taiwan issue.
While it is unclear how Trump himself believes the United States should be approaching China and Taiwan, he is surrounded by advisers who are keen to mobilize U.S. alliances in the Pacific to focus on deterring China and are also eager to reorient the operational priority of U.S. regional forces around a Taiwan contingency.
If Trump ends up going in that direction, Washington might see the Taiwan issue becoming a major tension point with a future Lee administration, as Lee would want to prioritize deterring North Korea and distance South Korea from the Taiwan issue. “Why should South Korea meddle with confrontation between China and Taiwan?” Lee once asked, adding, “let them handle their own business.”
As South Korea is set to fill its leadership vacuum in two months, Washington would be well-advised to explore potential areas of agreement and disagreement, and map out a roadmap to maximize cooperation and overcome differences.
The European Union likes to portray itself as the last principled bastion of the “rules-based international order” and global justice standing. Yet its true commitment to that order is a bit suspect. By applying double standards, the EU is actually undermining it, rendering hollow its own exhortations to other international players to respect it.
The collisions around the International Criminal Court (ICC) are a case in point.
The EU itself has no standing with respect to the ICC. That means that its members have a sovereign right to decide to join the Rome Statute that established the court — or not. That said, since the inception of the ICC, Brussels has encouraged its current and aspiring members, as well as other nations, to ratify the 1998 Rome Statute and support the Court’s work.
The EU’s leverage on this matter is more political than legal, but it appears to be deploying it selectively, depending on who the Court chooses to place in the dock.
This week during a visit of Israeli Prime Minister of Israel Benyami Benjamin Netanyahu to Budapest, Hungary announced that it will withdraw from the ICC.
The catch, however, is that the ICC has issued an arrest warrant against Netanyahu, having charged him for war crimes and crimes against humanity committed during Israel’s ongoing campaign in Gaza in which more than 50,000 people, mostly civilians, have been killed in retaliation for Hamas’ October 7, 2023, terrorist attacks (thousands more are presumed dead, still missing under rubble). Hungary’s withdrawal from the Rome Statute, assuming it is ratified by parliament, could still take months to take legal effect. Nonetheless, so long as the process is not finalized, Hungary has an obligation to arrest Netanyahu during his four-day stay.
The EU’s reaction has thus far been muted. The European Commission’s spokeswoman Anita Hipper, reacting to the reports of Hungary’s intent to withdraw from the ICC, only offered platitudes about the EU’s support for the Court, and predicted “deep regret” if Hungary were indeed to leave.
It remains to be seen how the EU’s top brass will react, should such be the case. However, that is not the point. When the EU summons political will, it could theoretically apply sufficient pressure to prevent undesirable outcomes before they materialize, rather than having to react after the deed.
In 2023, for example, the EU exerted pressure on South Africa concerning the potential attendance of the BRICS summit there by Russian President Vladimir Putin, who by then, like Netanyahu now, had already been indicted by the ICC for war crimes in Ukraine. Brussels reminded South Africa that, as a member of the ICC, it had an obligation to arrest Putin if he were to show up in the country, and that his status as a head of state did not grant him any immunity in this case.
The statements of EU officials, including the then-High Representative for Foreign Affairs Josep Borrell, generally expressed a “with-us-or-against-us” kind of mindset. It left little room for countries like South Africa, which sought to chart a neutral course — neither condoning the Russian invasion of Ukraine nor joining in the U.S.- and EU-promoted sanctions and isolation of Russia.
Such professions of neutrality — common in the Global South — were routinely dismissed as a sign of “siding with Putin.” While there were no overt threats of sanctions, European diplomats at the time hinted that Pretoria’s access to European markets and foreign investment could be affected should Pretoria fail to comply with its ICC obligations.
The EU pressure and the prospect of strained ties clearly played a role in the internal deliberations in South Africa; in the end, Putin did not attend the BRICS summit in Johannesburg and sent his foreign minister, Sergei Lavrov, instead.
No such leverage was apparent in the case of Netanyahu’s visit to Hungary. That is ironic as Brussels already has a rather confrontational relationship with the Hungarian prime minister. Brussels and Budapest have clashed regularly over domestic governance issues, particularly regarding Orban’s implementation of his “illiberal democracy,” in Hungary. Yet what really made Orban a pariah in Brussels is his insistence on opening space for diplomacy with Moscow to bring the war in Ukraine to an end.
Frustrated with Orban’s position (which, in fact, is widely shared across the political spectrum in Hungary, but also, increasingly, in other EU countries), senior officials in Brussels are reportedly discussing ways to get Hungary expelled from the EU altogether.
Yet, it would seem that Brussels is only exercised with Orban’s perceived flirting with Putin, but not Netanyahu, despite their both having been indicted by the ICC. Indeed, if the EU’s concern with the ICC and global justice were as consistent as it claims, it could already consider the failure to comply with the ICC orders as a breach of the rule of law — to add to the pile of other, preexisting disagreements Brussels has with Budapest. Yet political will is needed for the European Commission to move in that direction, and there is none.
Perversely, Orban is being hammered for all sorts of issues, including diplomatic initiatives to end the war in Ukraine, but gets a pass for hosting a man accused of war crimes.
And there lies the crux of the matter: The Brussels “blob” no longer appears to be worried about optics. Commission President Ursula von der Leyen is as staunch a supporter of Israel as she is a Russia hawk. The contrast is even more pronounced in the case of the new EU high representative for foreign affairs, former Estonian Prime Minister Kaja Kallas. She is obsessively focused on Russia. Just this week, she spoke in the European Parliament about the need to establish a special tribunal on Russian crimes in Ukraine — presumably in addition to Putin’s ICC indictment. Yet a few days earlier, she talked up friendship and cooperation at a meeting with Israel’s foreign minister, Gideon Saar.
Of note, she also parroted hawkish Israeli talking points about Iran posing an “immense threat to the region and global stability” even though that has never been the EU’s official position.
Such arbitrariness could create a domino effect: Hungary is not the only Israel’s ally in the EU. Other countries, such as the Czech Republic and Austria, may follow suit by ignoring their obligations under the ICC, literally with no consequences. And Netanyahu will have every incentive to exploit these cracks in the EU to vindicate his claim to his increasingly restive domestic audience that he is respected and authentic statesman.
When the EU pressures other countries, such as South Africa and others in the Global South, to align with its geopolitical priorities (on Ukraine/Russia), while giving itself a pass when convenient (on Israel/Palestine), it grates in other parts of the world and undermines the very case for the “rules-based international order” that the EU purports to defend and exemplify.
Between 2015 and 2018, the United States supplied Saudi Arabia with tens of millions of dollars worth of jet fuel in support for the kingdom’s bombing campaign in Yemen. Seven years later, the Saudis refuse to repay most of their debt. And they are being rewarded for it.
A Department of Defense report that was sent to Congress last October, reviewed by Responsible Statecraft, and previously unreported suggests that Pentagon officials are becoming increasingly desperate to recoup an outstanding $13.7 million in fuel costs that Saudi Arabia owes the U.S.
“DLA energy and US central command will continue to engage the Saudi Ministry of Defense and Ministry of Finance through United State Military Training Mission – Saudi Arabia scheduled meetings, various MOD/MOF and DoD Key Leader Engagements, face to face meetings within the CONUS and Saudi Arabia, and through email correspondence until the SLC fuel debt is paid in full,” the report stated.
In 2018, the Pentagon realized it had made an accounting error. The Pentagon had undercharged Saudi Arabia and the UAE by $36 million for jet fuel and another $294 million in flight hours for U.S. tanker aircraft that refueled Saudi and Emirati warplanes in midair.
With Washington’s help, the arrangement allowed Saudi and Emirati jets — which, besides actual military targets, bombed hospitals, schools, marketplaces, and weddings — to stay in the air for up to three hours instead of a mere 15 minutes. But instead of the two oil-rich Gulf nations footing the bill for the aerial-refueling process, as is required by law, it was the American taxpayer.
Seven years later — while the larger flight hours bill has been paid — Saudi Arabia has yet to pay $13.7 million worth of its jet fuel debt. The UAE, which owed the U.S. around $15 million for jet fuel, has reimbursed Washington in full.
The kingdom certainly does not lack the funds. The Saudi sovereign wealth fund oversees $925 billion in assets.
Rather, Saudi Arabia appears to be pleading ignorance; the Intercept reported that Saudi officials told representatives of the Defense Logistics Agency and U.S. Central Command last year that they were “not aware of the outstanding debt and requested some additional time to investigate the issue.”
This defense is at odds with the recent Pentagon report, which maintains that Department of Defense officials are exhausting various avenues to bring up the debt, including email, virtual meetings, and in-person meetings with multiple agencies.
The report also notes that the last payment, just over $1 million, was made in 2023. The Defense Logistics Agency confirmed it submitted the report, but did not elaborate if there have been any further payments since it was submitted in October.
Annelle Sheline, a research fellow at the Quincy Institute, told RS that Saudi Arabia’s refusal to pay up speaks to the “privilege the Saudis enjoy with the U.S., as they fear zero repercussions for failing to repay a debt to American taxpayers.”
Despite groveling about an unpaid debt privately, the U.S. continues to reward Saudi Arabia. Since 2018 when the accounting error was discovered, Washington has showered the kingdom with $14 billion in major arms sales, according to a tracker from Forum on the Arms Trade. Most of those transfers took place during the presidency of Joe Biden, who memorably fist-bumped Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman after promising to make the de facto Saudi ruler “a pariah” during his 2016 campaign for office.
Trump is now reportedly eyeing Saudi Arabia as the destination for his first overseas trip next month, just as he did during his first term.
“I said I will go if you put a trillion dollars to American companies,” Trump told reporters in March. “Meaning the purchase over four years of a trillion dollars. They agreed to do that. So I am gonna be going there.”
While he’s at it, he could ask for the couple million in pocket change that Saudi Arabia owes the American taxpayer. The paltry $13.7 million sum may be small, but the foot-dragging speaks volumes.
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