How General Atomics Sold
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by Senator Chris Murphy, excerpted from his 2020 book The Violence Inside Us: A Brief History of an Ongoing American Tragedy
Eisenhower's farewell speech warning about the defense industry's ulterior motives was rooted in his belief that the US government had to ward off the temptation to let industry profits, rather than clearheaded national security considerations, drive defense policy. Since the beginning of time, war has been big business. Those who profit from selling things to the war makers are always going to trump up the benefits and minimize the risks of developing and buying more weapons.
When it came to the future of weaponized flying robots, the swashbuckling brothers, Linden and Neal Blue, saw only upside. Today, they hide from the public eye, but sixty years ago, the boys, then Yale students, made the cover of Life magazine in a story that recounted their daredevil journey in which they befriended the Somoza family in Nicaragua, whose brutal rule of that country lasted more than forty years. After college, still attracted to risk and controversy, they bought General Atomics, a failing uranium company based in San Diego.
The brothers' continued friendship with the Somoza family ultimately led to an interest in weaponized drones. In the 1980s, Sandinistas had toppled the Somoza dynasty, and the brothers (and, covertly, the Reagan administration) were backing the vicious Contra rebel campaign against them. Linden and Neal figured that the easiest way for the US to help the Contras was to destroy the Sandinistas' fuel supply by flying unmanned, undetectable planes over the fuel tanks and dropping small, lethal bombs from above. The ability to avoid responsibility interested Neal most.
"You could launch them right from behind the line of sight," he told Fortune magazine, "so you would have total deniability." The brothers' new company partnered with an experienced Israeli drone maker, and they soon had a workable prototype of the first Predator. But they had one problem: The US Department of Defense wasn't interested.
The Blue brothers found a way around the indifferent bureaucrats at the Pentagon. General Atomics virtually overnight became one of the most prolific lobbying forces in Washington, D.C. Starting in the late 1990s, the Blues blanketed Capitol Hill with lobbyists, eventually spending $2.5 million a year—an impressive sum for a bit player in the defense industry complex.
They got what they paid for when the Unmanned Systems Caucus was formed by hawkish Republican congressmen who advocating loudly for the defense budget to purchase General Atomics' drones. The Blue brothers spread around eye popping sums to key legislators' campaigns: $80,000 to Armed Services Committee chairman Duncan Hunter, Sr., and $65,000 to Appropriations Committee chairman Jerry Lewis, to name just two examples.
Then the Blue brothers paid for lavish overseas trips for key congressional staff members, who are often more important and influential than their bosses. A Center for Public Integrity study found that General Atomics spent fifty times what other, much larger, defense companies spent on congressional staff travel. Convicted California congressman Duke Cunningham was one of General Atomics' most fervent backers. Not coincidentally, from 2002 to 2006, the company jetted Cunningham's top legislative staffer all around the world.
Today, General Atomics is the biggest player in the fast-growing world of weaponized drones, with one quarter of the international market. It is impossible to say with certainty if their lobbying campaign compromised Department of Defense, and congressional appropriators’ decisions. But the Blue brothers are smart businessmen. They wouldn't have kept making the investment in Congress unless they thought they were getting a return. This is Eisenhower's warning come to life: Powerful, cash-rich defense companies using their clout to push America into national security decisions that are good for industry, but questionable for the country's long-term security.
Chris Murphy is a US Senator for Connecticut. He is one of the leading proponents of commonsense reforms to reduce gun violence.
Eisenhower's farewell speech warning about the defense industry's ulterior motives was rooted in his belief that the US government had to ward off the temptation to let industry profits, rather than clearheaded national security considerations, drive defense policy. Since the beginning of time, war has been big business. Those who profit from selling things to the war makers are always going to trump up the benefits and minimize the risks of developing and buying more weapons.
When it came to the future of weaponized flying robots, the swashbuckling brothers, Linden and Neal Blue, saw only upside. Today, they hide from the public eye, but sixty years ago, the boys, then Yale students, made the cover of Life magazine in a story that recounted their daredevil journey in which they befriended the Somoza family in Nicaragua, whose brutal rule of that country lasted more than forty years. After college, still attracted to risk and controversy, they bought General Atomics, a failing uranium company based in San Diego.
The brothers' continued friendship with the Somoza family ultimately led to an interest in weaponized drones. In the 1980s, Sandinistas had toppled the Somoza dynasty, and the brothers (and, covertly, the Reagan administration) were backing the vicious Contra rebel campaign against them. Linden and Neal figured that the easiest way for the US to help the Contras was to destroy the Sandinistas' fuel supply by flying unmanned, undetectable planes over the fuel tanks and dropping small, lethal bombs from above. The ability to avoid responsibility interested Neal most.
"You could launch them right from behind the line of sight," he told Fortune magazine, "so you would have total deniability." The brothers' new company partnered with an experienced Israeli drone maker, and they soon had a workable prototype of the first Predator. But they had one problem: The US Department of Defense wasn't interested.
The Blue brothers found a way around the indifferent bureaucrats at the Pentagon. General Atomics virtually overnight became one of the most prolific lobbying forces in Washington, D.C. Starting in the late 1990s, the Blues blanketed Capitol Hill with lobbyists, eventually spending $2.5 million a year—an impressive sum for a bit player in the defense industry complex.
They got what they paid for when the Unmanned Systems Caucus was formed by hawkish Republican congressmen who advocating loudly for the defense budget to purchase General Atomics' drones. The Blue brothers spread around eye popping sums to key legislators' campaigns: $80,000 to Armed Services Committee chairman Duncan Hunter, Sr., and $65,000 to Appropriations Committee chairman Jerry Lewis, to name just two examples.
Then the Blue brothers paid for lavish overseas trips for key congressional staff members, who are often more important and influential than their bosses. A Center for Public Integrity study found that General Atomics spent fifty times what other, much larger, defense companies spent on congressional staff travel. Convicted California congressman Duke Cunningham was one of General Atomics' most fervent backers. Not coincidentally, from 2002 to 2006, the company jetted Cunningham's top legislative staffer all around the world.
Today, General Atomics is the biggest player in the fast-growing world of weaponized drones, with one quarter of the international market. It is impossible to say with certainty if their lobbying campaign compromised Department of Defense, and congressional appropriators’ decisions. But the Blue brothers are smart businessmen. They wouldn't have kept making the investment in Congress unless they thought they were getting a return. This is Eisenhower's warning come to life: Powerful, cash-rich defense companies using their clout to push America into national security decisions that are good for industry, but questionable for the country's long-term security.
Chris Murphy is a US Senator for Connecticut. He is one of the leading proponents of commonsense reforms to reduce gun violence.
