How Drones Changed Wars

By Seoyun Nam, Seungju Lee

Once upon a time, air superiority was something only the big powers could afford. Now? Everyone from state militaries to hobbyists with a Wi-Fi signal can launch a device that flies, spies, and explodes.

The age of drones has rewritten the script of modern conflict, and the latter seems to be highly unpredictable. Drones have moved from niche to central in modern conflict. Small commercial quadcopters, FPV (first-person view) rigs, MALE (medium-altitude long-endurance) systems, and UCAVs (unmanned combat aerial vehicle), now cover intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance, precision strike, loitering attacks, logistics, and even electronic warfare.

The central factor behind their increasing adoption lies within economics and logistics. The fact they are markedly cheaper and easier to operate means they are preferred over the conventional platforms. A new open dataset from the Center for a New American Security tracks global transfers of military-grade drones since the 1990s, underscoring how widespread these systems have become. Two linked trends define the present moment. Two defining trends shape the present security environment. The first is large-scale proliferation across state and non-state actors. The second big shift is how quickly artificial intelligence is taking over control. Drones no longer just follow human commands. They move together and read signals, adjusting in real time. It is almost like a flock that learned to think, some kind of swarm intelligence. Analysts say this change isn't happening quietly. Reports show a full-scale transition from soldiers flying single drones by hand to entire industries building networks that can decide and coordinate on their own.

The impact is already showing in places that can't afford mistakes. Aid trucks stop mid-route when drones buzz overhead. Medical teams hesitate to fly because an unseen machine might be watching. In conflict zones, relief workers now plan their routes by the sound of propellers. Lawyers and humanitarian experts keep asking the same question: when an automated drone hits the wrong target, who do we blame? The rulebook is falling behind. Old laws about "distinction" and "proportionality" were made for humans, not algorithms. It's hard to tell what counts as a careful strike when the operator is miles away and the aircraft is running parts of the mission by itself. As these machines multiply, tracing who gave the final order becomes very complicated.

Ukraine proves this better than any report. Soldiers there use FPVs to dive straight into trenches, while larger drones hit vehicles miles away. The Atlantic Council describes how "FPV Ukrainian drones pound Russian armor, artillery, and trench networks along the front lines." The Guardian reported another strike, with over a hundred drones flying in formation, taking out several airfields in a single night. The scale of it feels almost cinematic, but it's real. At this point, where drones are used doesn't matter as much as how they behave. Most fall into familiar types: tiny quadcopters and FPVs for quick attacks, mid-altitude models for long patrols, heavy combat drones for deep strikes, and full swarms designed to overwhelm defenses. But the real story starts when they work together. Analysts now talk about "mixed formations," a kind of teamwork where small FPV units pair with smarter loitering drones like the ones that hunt targets through shared sensors.

Mass-produced drones have changed the rhythm of battle. They're fast, expendable, and everywhere. To stop them, countries are turning to science as much as strategy. Defense depends on layers (radar, infrared, and radio sensors), each one catching what the others miss. But every layer has cracks. Radio jamming fails when drones switch to hardened links. Energy weapons sound promising until power or precision runs short. Kinetic interceptors still work, but they're costly, and they run out fast when the sky fills up. Since 2024, U.S. defense trials have focused on this exact problem—how to fight when the air is thick with signals and noise.

Governments everywhere are trying to catch up. Some are rewriting budgets. Others are just running after the curve. Money keeps pouring into AI-guided strike systems, radar networks, and interceptors that can shoot down what people can barely see. But experts still consistently claim that technology alone won't fix what's missing. The problem isn't only tactical; it's human. They call for stricter rules on exporting autonomous software and demand real human oversight, not the kind that exists only on paper. They also push for real protection of humanitarian routes—such as roads, hospitals, and evacuation lines—so people can move safely even when the sky isn't. The main truth is hard to ignore. Drones don't make wars cleaner. They make them easier to start, harder to stop, and faster than law or ethics can follow. If rules, strategy, and technology don't evolve together, we'll always be one step behind our own machines.

Still, there are lessons to hold onto. First, the ethics of war are drifting away from the battlefield and into the screen. Accountability has to close such distance. Second, fighting drones isn't about brute force anymore; it's about systems that can see, jam, and react under pressure. Third, cheap drones have leveled the field. They've given smaller forces a kind of power that used to belong only to nations. The smartest defense today is about having decent flexibility, spreading risk, and knowing that perfection's off the table. Survival, though, is still possible.