In 2018, Google walked away from a key AI contract, Project Maven, under employee pressure. I was furious at the double standard then. Social media and crypto were reshaping society in ways that dwarfed anything Maven touched, and nobody organized walkouts over that. But the dispute now is much bigger than Maven. That involved important software, used in targeting drones. What’s at stake now, though, is not just a small set of uses. It’s the transformation of warfare.
These kinds of objections were not raised when Ukraine started using AI in its war against Russia. Ukraine fields thousands of AI-guided autonomous drones. It deploys swarms that coordinate strikes with minimal human oversight. Western companies ship AI-equipped munitions directly to the front, and the tech community calls it democratic resilience. I agree. It is. But you don’t get to celebrate the triumph of AI-aided warfare when it protects Ukrainians and then sign a petition when the same technology might keep American troops alive in the Persian Gulf.
…The military is using Anthropic’s AI right now, today, in an active conflict, because there was a commitment by both sides to bring these technologies to bear and do better for our troops. The question for all the people who work on AI in Silicon Valley is whether they want to be in the room making our troops safer and more effective, or outside it congratulating themselves on not making any ethical compromises.
You cannot celebrate AI-aided warfare when it protects Ukrainians and then sign a petition when the same technology might keep American troops alive in the Persian Gulf. The moral language shifts depending on which coalition the technology serves.
In the Ukraine case, the dominant Western coalition was strongly pro-Ukraine. Governments, tech companies, journalists, and defense analysts broadly agreed that Russia was the aggressor and that Ukraine’s survival was legitimate. Inside that alliance structure, AI-guided drones became tools of defense. The narrative settled on innovation, democratic resilience, and asymmetric defense against a larger invader. When Ukrainian engineers built autonomous targeting systems or coordinated drone swarms, the story was that a smaller democracy used ingenuity to offset Russian mass.
When the same technology appears in a different theater, the coalition changes. The Persian Gulf context pulls in different actors and different moral frames. Tech workers in Silicon Valley, certain NGOs, parts of academia, and segments of the media belong to a coalition more skeptical of American military action in the Middle East. Within that network, autonomous weapons become a symbol of escalation, lost human control, or dystopian warfare.
So the same technology gets two completely different narratives. One says AI saves lives and protects democracy. The other says AI creates uncontrolled killing machines. Neither narrative is really about the technology. Both are about coalition signaling. Supporting Ukrainian AI drones signals loyalty to the pro-Ukraine coalition. Opposing American AI weapons signals loyalty to the anti-intervention or tech-ethics coalition.
This is why these debates feel inconsistent. The ethical language sounds universal, but the application is situational.
There is also a deeper structural reason for the difference. Ukraine reads as the weaker actor fighting for survival. Western audiences accept technological asymmetry when it benefits the underdog. When the United States deploys the same tools, the asymmetry flips. Now the technology amplifies the strongest military power on earth, which triggers fears about unchecked force. The inconsistency comes from both moral framing and power perception working together.
The argument here is a symmetry test. If autonomous targeting is morally acceptable because it reduces casualties and improves precision in Ukraine, the same logic should apply when American forces try to reduce risk to their own troops. Critics respond that the legitimacy of the war matters as much as the technology used to fight it. That is a fair point, but it is a different argument than the one most of them make publicly.
Most debates about military technology collapse into three questions: whether the war is seen as legitimate, who is perceived as the aggressor, and which coalition controls the narrative. Once those are answered, the ethical framing of the technology follows almost automatically.
