The advancement and proliferation of autonomous drones as weapons will make terrorism easier, more destructive, and harder to trace—and Australia is underprepared.
Modern commercial drones increasingly incorporate automated satellite-navigation targeting and swarming capabilities, bypassing some traditional constraints on terrorism. Mass drone swarm deployment by Ukraine has shown the world the destructive potential of cheap, weaponised drones, and groups such as Islamic State and Hezbollah are striving to adopt similar playbooks.
On 1 June, 117 Ukrainian drones struck Russian airbases, using terminal-guidance autonomy to stay locked on target after Russian jamming systems severed pilot communications. Speaking to The Guardian, Ukrainian military analyst Serhii Beskrestnov said he estimated that Russia was daily launching 50 V2U drones, which patrolled the front lines to independently locate and attack targets. Both sides are racing to strip these systems of human oversight, a trajectory with hazardous implications.
Beyond combat zones, advances in autonomy are poised to amplify the capabilities of actors dependent on asymmetric force. Terrorists have already incorporated drones into their arsenals: Islamic State used them extensively during the Battle of Mosul, during which the United States admitted a temporary loss of airspace tactical superiority, while Hezbollah and Hamas have flown them against Israel. In the past, these attacks generally featured a single drone, as the compartmentalised networks that terrorists rely on to avoid detection greatly complicate the multi-pilot coordination that traditional swarms require.
Autonomy sets aside that limitation. Waypoint satellite navigation allows one operator to direct dozens of drones along programmed routes—a feature Islamic State and Hezbollah are reportedly already using. Swarming software can coordinate large groups with minimal input, and emerging vision-based autonomy could let drones identify and strike targets entirely on their own.
As one analysis notes, 30 of the cheap little aircraft each carrying 10 kg of explosives could rival the destructive force of a car bomb, and even lightweight drones could theoretically be exploited to disperse chemical and biological agents, if these can be obtained. Commercial pesticide systems come tailor-made for this. Staggered wave launches could slow first responders, divert attention from primary targets or strike crowded evacuation routes. Drones capable of carrying kilograms of explosives can be bought for a few thousand dollars, are discreet to store and leave few traceable signals when flown autonomously. A dozen could fit in the back of a van, be assembled in minutes and be launched from a downtown rooftop or a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts.
The threat from explosives and chemical and biological agents must not be overstated. These are tightly controlled in Australia. For example, terrorists would have great difficulty in getting their hands on military-grade explosives. Other explosives, such as ANFO (ammonium nitrate and fuel oil), are bulky and therefore ill-suited to airborne delivery.
Even so, attacks could create damage and disorder. The release of improvised payloads, such as fuel, fireworks and blends of commercially available chemicals, could force evacuations, risking panic-accidents or shutdowns of vital services until substances are identified.
Drones can inflict severe injuries when used as projectiles, especially if deployed at scale. Imagine scores of drones suddenly flying into a football crowd at 150 km/h. Terrorists could easily enhance lethality by affixing blades. They could steer swarms into sensitive equipment, such as aircraft engines.
Even non-destructive incidents can be highly disruptive. For instance, Gatwick Airport closed for two days in 2018 after a drone was sighted near the runway, stalling travel for 140,000 people.
Simultaneous attacks could also be staged across locations to overwhelm responders, buying cover for other crimes. By sowing fear and disruption, mass drone strikes may inflate the attacker’s perceived power while undermining public trust in authorities, advancing key terrorist objectives.
Autonomy also dissolves sources of human friction that sometimes derail terrorist plots. For example, there’s less fear of on-the-spot capture or scattering incriminating DNA. Risky calls to coordinate conspirators or risky scouting trips to CCTV-covered streets are replaced by covert lines of code. Machines don’t lose their nerve if sirens sound or hesitate if a child wanders into view, nor can they whistleblow or dissuade an accomplice.
Most countries, including Australia, should move quickly to tighten drone governance. Mandating point-of-sale hardware traceability and licencing would make it harder for malicious actors to operate anonymously, while restrictions on bulk purchases and large-drone ownership could slow stockpiling. Emerging countermeasures, such as high-power microwave systems aimed skywards at high-risk venues, could offer avenues for rapid emergency neutralisation. The US Army is already trialling these systems to protect important sites, though their heavy power demands and risk of collateral damage to nearby electronics could complicate urban deployment.
Australian policy must adapt to the reality that drones have evolved past mere hobby and industry applications. In the wrong hands, they have the potential to become precise, scalable weapons. If we delay, we may face this truth only in the wake of a preventable tragedy.
