ABSTRACT
Ethical private security? In the winter of 2008, a discussion sprang up on the main PMSC list-serve, moderated by International Peace Operations Association president, Doug Brooks. The debate was in response to a comment made by Mr. Brooks at a conference in Princeton, where he argued that PMSCs were “ethical” actors in wartime. In response, one member asked Mr. Brooks to give some concrete examples of ethical actions. Soon the conversation degenerated, as it often does on such listserves: plenty of members had seen evidence of crimes and misdemeanors committed by various members of PMSCs. Others noted that the military was just as bad, if not worse. Was this really even the right question to ask, whether or not a firm was ethical? And how would you even begin to answer this question? What would the right rules be for judgment? Plenty of answers were provided. Some said that ethical companies treat their employees and clients well. Others that they deliver what they promise, and fulfill their contracts. One member quoted the entire code of conduct his company had asked him to sign. It included clauses asking that those who work for them should not behave in ways that would degrade their profession, and that they should not undertake undue risks, and should not divulge the details of their clients’ work (see Appendix B). In the end, the ethics discussion was “punted off-list,” but not before Robert Young Pelton, author of Licensed to Kill, could quip: “We could always outsource our ethics . . .” (Pelton 2008). In this chapter I address the ethical questions that arise when analysts try to judge the use of PMSCs. There are many layers to the moral and ethical judgments surrounding PMSCs. We might criticize the contractor himself (how he fulfills his duties), or the PMSC itself (how it treats its employees, whether it abides by industry standards). We might criticize the government or the corporation who subcontracts for security. It may be that PMSCs are the least bad
option in a world of tough necessities, or it may also be that they are a demonstrable force for good wherever they appear. As with the other issues surrounding PMSCs, these criticisms and justifications are occurring in the midst of wider debates about the ethical use of military power in general: should soldiers be trained on a policing model? Or should they be more intimidating and more ruthless? Finally, there is the moral judgment of the society that allows proxy forces to act in its name. In fact, PMSCs crystallize some of these current debates. This chapter begins by characterizing the criticisms of the general use of a PMSC. I use the metaphor of hands: PMSCs are most often portrayed as evidence of “dirty hands,” or as victims of a confused policy involving “too many hands,” or else they are criticized as being the perfect example of “the right hand not knowing what the left hand is doing,” of being evidence of a willful ignorance about the repercussions of policy choices. PMSCs fit all of these descriptions well. In the next section, I employ a heuristic model provided by political scientist Ken Jowitt to contrast the different ethical mentalities of organizations in zones that are peripheral to law and order. Jowitt classifies organizational cultures as either those marked by a “frontier” mentality, or by “barricaded” defensive organizations, or as confident organizations comfortable with crossable “boundaries” (Jowitt, Ken). In a “frontier” zone, on the periphery of law and order, behavior is allowable (and judged necessary) that would not be allowed at the center, in a world marked by “borders.” Jowitt’s language is highly visual and often quirky, but his stark characterizations have tremendous theoretical power. His typology is used to characterize three versions of ethical attitudes toward security. Seeing the differences between these various attitudes makes it possible to see where the ethical dissonance occurs; that is, where parties unnecessarily talk past each other about ethics, or worse, use one discourse to hide the reality on the ground. The ethics of PMSCs are also formed by the ethics of private security guards in general. Here I employ research done on privatized policing by Clifford Shearing and others. In a recent study done for the Department of Justice, Shearing and Bayley contrasted the “mentality” of a private security force with that of a public police force (Shearing and Bayley 2001). In this case, Shearing’s research demonstrates that public and private forces have different ideas of what constitutes security – and, by extension, justice. It is necessary to understand these different mentalities before any workable normative judgments can be made about PMSCs; and especially before any workable legal or regulatory policies can be put in place. Finally, I argue that the use of PMSCs is another form of virtual warfare. Similar to the way in which risk-transfer warfare works to hide the costs of war from those who can authorize it, virtual warfare works to distance citizens from those who act in their name. For now, the debate about how PMSCs can be ethical actors on the ground is suffering from the same clash of norms that is occurring in the legal realm. This chapter tries to sort out that confusion, and suggest a way toward a more realistic
picture. Can they be ethically problematic and still be useful? Can they be moral actors for hire? No matter how effective they may be in current conditions, or how benignly they may present themselves, PMSCs continue to be considered ethically shaky and morally hazardous: almost every treatment of them in the last ten years begins by pointing this out. Singer says that they “rest on a confused and precarious moral position” (2003: 216). Avant ultimately argues that increased privatization undermines democratic control over the use of force abroad (Avant and Seligman 2008). Even journalist Robert Young Pelton, who admits that he has “spent much of my adult life following the activities of mercenaries and soldierfor-hire,” begins his exposé of the industry by noting that the only “moral leash that operates on these people is how they view themselves, not how the world views them” (Pelton 2006: 6). Despite these criticisms, one PMSC did try to market itself as the “ethical security company.” In 2001, Blue Sky Group International Security Company Ltd was founded in rural Salisbury, in the UK, near the headquarters for the British military. Its founding members were retired UK military officers who had years of experience with NATO and British forces, as well as ex-colonial experience in Nepal.1 The company aimed to provide “ethical security” in a market filled with what they saw as overly aggressive and slipshod companies. Its teams of security officers and trainers were filled with younger ex-military men who had worked for humanitarian agencies in Indonesia, or the UN in Afghanistan. Blue Sky had contracts training security guards in Kuwait, and helping NGO or media workers to learn how to deal with security threats. But the company declined contracts in Iraq, claiming that the environment was much too insecure and violent for the unarmed and “ethical” security they wanted to provide. Blue Sky hoped eventually to be hired by the UN, doing post-conflict reconstruction and demobilization work. A year after I interviewed them, Blue Sky had downsized to a “shadow of its former self,” and most of its professional staff had been laid off or had left to work as independent contractors for other security consultancies.2 To Blue Sky, ethical security meant using “brains not brawn,” and being “transparent and accountable.” And it meant committing to these ideals at the expense of profitable operations or commitments that might have required compromise. The language its principals used reflected a cosmopolitan ethic of humanitarianism (for profit), and in discussions they described their operations in contrast to a corrupt (or at least lax) array of other firms. When they ceased operations in 2005, it was because the “current climate did not allow them to conduct business” in the ways they thought best, or with the organizations, like the UN, whose contracts they coveted. They were too good for Iraq, and too tainted for the UN. The battle still remains an uphill one for those trying to market themselves as ethical PMSCs. It is not possible to subsume them under either a military ethic or an ethic of humanitarianism. PMSCs remain an ethical “problem child” in much the same way that they have not yet acquired a clearly delineated legal status.
