Private military company

Based on Wikipedia: Private military company

The Mercenaries Who Rebranded

In 1971, a group of British commandos attempted to overthrow Muammar Gaddafi, the dictator of Libya. They failed. What makes this story remarkable isn't the failure itself—coups fail all the time. It's that the men weren't soldiers. They were employees of a private company called WatchGuard International, founded by David Stirling, the legendary creator of the Special Air Service, Britain's elite special forces unit.

Welcome to the world of private military companies.

These aren't the swashbuckling mercenaries of historical legend, the soldiers of fortune who sold their swords to the highest bidder in Renaissance Italy or colonial Africa. Modern private military companies—or PMCs—are corporations. They have offices in London's upscale Mayfair district. They issue press releases. They sign contracts worth billions of dollars with the United States government.

And yet, when you strip away the corporate veneer, they're doing something that governments have traditionally reserved for themselves: waging war.

What Exactly Is a Private Military Company?

A private military company provides armed combat or security services for hire. The people who work for them prefer terms like "security contractor" or "private military contractor." The word "mercenary" is carefully avoided, though the distinction can feel semantic.

Think of PMCs as offering the same services as a country's military, police, or intelligence agencies—just on a smaller, privatized scale. They might train foreign armies. They might provide bodyguards for presidents. They might fly combat helicopters in war zones.

Here's a concrete example: for years, private contractors provided the personal security detail for Hamid Karzai, the president of Afghanistan. The most powerful man in a country at war was protected not by his own military, but by employees of a corporation.

The scale of this industry is staggering. By 2003, PMCs were earning over one hundred billion dollars annually. A 2008 study found that private contractors made up twenty-nine percent of the entire United States Intelligence Community's workforce—and consumed forty-nine percent of its personnel budget.

Let that sink in. Nearly half the money America spends on intelligence personnel goes to people who don't actually work for the government.

Born from the SAS

The modern PMC industry traces its origins to 1965, when David Stirling and John Woodhouse—both veterans of the Special Air Service—founded WatchGuard International. Their first office was on Sloane Street in London before they moved to the more prestigious South Audley Street in Mayfair.

Stirling was no ordinary entrepreneur. During World War Two, he had created the SAS itself, one of the most feared special operations units in military history. Now he was applying that expertise to the private sector.

WatchGuard's first job was modest enough: travel to Yemen and report on the state of royalist forces during a ceasefire. But the company quickly expanded. They trained security forces in Zambia and Sierra Leone. They advised on military matters across Africa. Stirling personally brokered arms deals with Gulf states.

Then came the Gaddafi operation.

The failed coup attempt in Libya in 1971 revealed both the ambitions and the limits of private military power. Stirling stepped back from active involvement the following year. His co-founder Woodhouse had already resigned after a series of disagreements about the direction of the company.

But the model they created proved enduring. Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, other SAS veterans founded similar firms: Control Risks Group, Defence Systems, and others. The special forces alumni network was becoming a business network.

The Cold War Ends, the Contractors Arrive

The private military industry remained relatively small until 1991, when the Soviet Union collapsed.

What followed was one of the largest military drawdowns in history. Over six million personnel left Western armed forces during the 1990s. These were trained soldiers—many of them from elite units—suddenly looking for work. The recruiting pool for PMCs expanded overnight.

At the same time, the world was becoming more dangerous, or at least more complicated. The neat Cold War division between superpowers gave way to messy regional conflicts, failed states, and new security challenges. Governments needed military capabilities but often lacked the political will or legal authority to deploy their own forces.

Private contractors offered a solution.

Major firms emerged in this period: Vinnell and Military Professional Resources Incorporated in the United States; G4S and Keeni-Meeny Services in the United Kingdom; Lordan-Levdan in Israel; Executive Outcomes in South Africa. Some commentators noticed a troubling pattern—elite units like the British SAS, American Special Operations Forces, and Canada's Joint Task Force 2 were hemorrhaging personnel to the private sector, which could offer higher pay and often more action.

The Legal Gray Zone

In 1989, the United Nations adopted the Mercenary Convention, an international treaty banning the use of mercenaries. It entered into force in 2001.

The treaty has been ratified by thirty-seven countries.

Conspicuously absent from that list: the United States, the United Kingdom, France, Russia, and China—essentially every major military power on earth.

This creates a peculiar legal situation. Private military contractors operate in a gray zone where international law is unclear and enforcement is nearly nonexistent. The Geneva Conventions—the body of international law governing warfare—suggest that contractors using armed force in a war zone may be considered "unlawful combatants," a category that offers far fewer protections than regular soldiers receive.

The American military eventually tried to address part of this problem. In 2007, Congress amended the Uniform Code of Military Justice to allow prosecution of contractors deployed in "declared war or a contingency operation." Whether this actually deters misconduct is another question entirely.

Iraq: When Everyone Learned the Name Blackwater

The October 2000 bombing of the USS Cole, a Navy destroyer attacked by Al Qaeda operatives in a Yemeni port, proved to be a turning point. The attack demonstrated vulnerabilities in American military security—vulnerabilities that private companies could potentially address.

Shortly after, Blackwater Worldwide received its first contract with the US military.

Over the following decade, Blackwater became the most notorious name in the private military industry. When the United States invaded Iraq in 2003, contractors flooded into the country. They guarded diplomats. They protected convoys. They interrogated prisoners. They did things that, in previous wars, soldiers would have done.

By December 2008, contractors made up sixty-nine percent of the Pentagon's personnel in Afghanistan—the highest proportion in American military history. When President Obama announced a surge of thirty thousand additional troops into Afghanistan in 2009, analysts estimated this would be accompanied by an additional twenty-six to fifty-six thousand contractors.

Let me repeat those numbers. For every three soldiers America sent to Afghanistan, it needed roughly two private contractors to support them.

The Scandal Nobody Wanted to Talk About

In December 2009, a congressional subcommittee began investigating a disturbing allegation: American security companies protecting Defense Department convoys in Afghanistan might be paying warlords and Taliban fighters for safe passage.

Consider the implications. The United States government was potentially funding the very insurgents it was fighting, using taxpayer money laundered through private contractors into the hands of the enemy. The arrangement resembled nothing so much as a protection racket—pay up, or your trucks get attacked.

Eight trucking companies sharing a $2.2 billion Defense Department contract came under scrutiny. The preliminary findings were troubling enough to warrant a deeper investigation.

This wasn't an isolated incident of contractors behaving badly. It revealed something structural about the private military industry: these companies exist to make money. Their incentives don't always align with national security objectives. Sometimes, the easiest way to complete a contract is to make deals that would horrify the government signing the checks.

Pirates Versus Contractors: A Battle of Non-State Actors

Off the coast of Somalia, something strange has been happening since the late 2000s.

Somali pirates had become a genuine threat to international shipping. They would board cargo vessels passing through the Gulf of Aden, one of the world's busiest shipping lanes, and hold crews hostage for ransom. Several international naval operations attempted to address the problem: the European Union's Operation Atalanta, NATO's Operation Ocean Shield, Combined Task Force 150.

These naval missions captured over twelve hundred pirates between 2010 and 2015. But they couldn't be everywhere. The Gulf of Aden is simply too vast.

Enter private military contractors.

Shipping companies began hiring armed security teams to sail aboard their vessels. If pirates approached, the contractors would repel them with gunfire if necessary. This created an unusual situation: two violent non-state actors—pirates and private security forces—engaging in combat on the high seas, far from any government oversight.

The United Nations struggled to track what was happening. National navies reported their encounters and arrests. PMCs, being private companies with no obligation to disclose their activities, generally stayed silent. Only one contractor published any information about its operations during this period. Given that PMCs covered far more of the region than naval vessels could, the actual number of armed confrontations is almost certainly much higher than official records suggest.

In 2012, the International Organization for Standardization—the same body that certifies quality management systems for manufacturing companies—published guidelines specifically for private maritime security companies. Even the bureaucrats who write international standards had acknowledged that private military contractors were now a permanent feature of global shipping.

Executive Outcomes and the African Wars

To understand what PMCs can actually do, consider Executive Outcomes, a South African firm that operated in the 1990s.

In 1994, the Angolan government was fighting UNITA, a rebel movement, after a United Nations peace settlement collapsed. Unable to defeat the rebels with its own military, the government hired Executive Outcomes. The company trained four to five thousand Angolan combat troops and helped retake the country's diamond fields—the real prize both sides were fighting over.

A year later, Executive Outcomes was called to Sierra Leone, where the Revolutionary United Front, a brutal guerrilla movement notorious for amputating civilians' limbs, was threatening the government. Again, the company deployed, trained local forces, and helped negotiate a peace settlement.

These were genuine military victories. A private corporation with a few hundred employees accomplished what the legitimate governments could not achieve on their own.

This raises uncomfortable questions. Is it acceptable for weak governments to hire private armies? What happens when those private armies develop their own interests? Who controls them when the contract ends?

The Wagner Group: When Contractors Serve Dictators

Not all private military companies work for democracies.

Since 2017, the Wagner Group, a Russian PMC with close ties to the Kremlin, has been operating across Africa. They've deployed to Sudan, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Mozambique, and numerous other countries. Officially, they help governments defeat insurgencies or fight Islamic extremist movements.

Unofficially, according to American and African government sources, Wagner Group personnel have committed significant crimes against humanity.

This is the dark mirror of the private military industry. The same model that allows democracies to project power without political cost also allows authoritarian regimes to operate with deniability. When Russian contractors commit atrocities in Africa, Moscow can claim they're just private citizens—even if everyone knows the Kremlin is calling the shots.

The NGO Dilemma

One of the stranger developments in the PMC industry involves humanitarian organizations.

Non-governmental organizations—the groups that deliver aid, provide medical care, and support refugees in the world's most dangerous places—increasingly find themselves hiring private security contractors. In Afghanistan, Somalia, and Sudan, NGOs face genuine threats. Their staff can be kidnapped, their supplies stolen, their compounds attacked.

Many NGOs lack the expertise to manage their own security. They don't have time to train personnel. They can't develop sophisticated threat assessments. Hiring contractors seems like an obvious solution.

But there's a problem. NGOs depend on their perceived neutrality to operate safely. The moment they're seen as aligned with armed forces—any armed forces—that neutrality evaporates. Local populations start viewing aid workers as agents of one side in a conflict. Risks actually increase.

There's also the question of quality. When security is outsourced, middlemen take their cut, and the actual guards may be poorly paid and poorly trained. They may not stick around long enough to understand local conditions. The NGO loses the ability to develop its own security thinking.

The result is institutional schizophrenia. Central headquarters may claim their organization never uses private security. Staff on the ground tell researchers the opposite. The contradiction prevents the kind of honest discussion that might actually improve security practices across the humanitarian sector.

Why Countries Hire Contractors Instead of Deploying Troops

Private military companies persist for reasons that go beyond capability. They solve political problems.

When American soldiers die in combat, it makes the news. Parents grieve publicly. Voters get angry. Politicians face consequences. When contractors die, fewer people notice. There's no official casualty count. No flag-draped coffins at Dover Air Force Base.

This creates perverse incentives. Governments can engage in military operations with reduced political cost by classifying casualties as contractors rather than soldiers. The public sees fewer deaths and assumes the war is going well.

There's also the question of expertise. Modern military operations require specialists: linguists, interrogators, intelligence analysts, pilots who can fly specific aircraft, technicians who can repair specialized equipment. The military might not have enough of these people on the payroll. Contractors fill the gap.

And sometimes, governments simply don't trust each other. A country that might resent American military advisors might accept private contractors who have a purely commercial relationship. The contractor's loyalty is to whoever signs the check, which, paradoxically, can make them more trustworthy than soldiers who serve a foreign flag.

The Industry Grows Up—Sort Of

In 2008, something unusual happened: the private military industry started developing rules for itself.

The International Committee of the Red Cross—the organization best known for monitoring treatment of prisoners of war—worked with the Swiss government, private security companies, and civil society groups to create the Montreux Document. This document clarified international legal obligations related to PMCs, offered recommendations for how governments should hire them, and spelled out operational oversight requirements.

By December 2018, fifty-four countries had signed on.

This represents a significant shift in how the world views private military force. The industry is no longer treated as a shadowy fringe phenomenon. It's been normalized, regulated—absorbed into the international order.

Whether this regulation is adequate is another question. The seas off Somalia, the jungles of the Congo, the mountains of Afghanistan—these are places where oversight is theoretical at best. A contractor who commits a crime thousands of miles from any courthouse operates with effective impunity.

The Future of Private War

In April 2005, a company called SCG International Risk announced it would offer military aviation services: air support, medical evacuation, armed escort, transport of cargo and personnel to "any location on earth."

Think about what that means. A private company was advertising capabilities that rival the air forces of many nations. If you had enough money, you could hire your own private air force.

This is where the industry is heading. As PMCs grow larger and more capable, they approach the power of small nations. Executive Outcomes proved that a few hundred contractors could change the outcome of civil wars. Future companies might deploy drones, cyber weapons, perhaps someday autonomous weapons systems.

The implications are profound. War has traditionally been a monopoly of states. Only governments could raise armies, declare wars, make peace. Private military companies erode that monopoly. They create a market for violence where capability flows to whoever can pay.

This could be stabilizing—helping weak democracies defend themselves against insurgencies. Or it could be catastrophic—allowing the wealthy and unaccountable to wage private wars for private purposes.

We are conducting an experiment to find out which future we'll get. The results aren't in yet.

What's Different About Mercenaries in Suits

The historical mercenary sold his individual skill at arms. He was a free agent, moving between employers as opportunity dictated, loyal to whoever paid this month's wages. His business was killing, and he didn't pretend otherwise.

Modern private military companies are different in important ways. They're incorporated. They have shareholders, human resources departments, compliance officers. They sign long-term contracts with governments. They recruit from specific military backgrounds and maintain training standards.

But they're also similar in ways that matter. Their ultimate loyalty is commercial. They exist to make money. When their interests conflict with their clients' interests—or with the interests of the people in the countries where they operate—the outcome is unpredictable.

The Geneva Conventions, which govern how wars are fought and how combatants must be treated, were designed for conflicts between nation-states with uniformed armies. They struggle to accommodate private contractors who wear no national insignia, answer to corporate rather than government authority, and operate in legal limbo between soldier and civilian.

We've created an industry of a hundred billion dollars, employing tens of thousands of armed personnel, operating on every continent, with no clear framework for accountability. That should probably concern us more than it does.

The Uncomfortable Questions

Private military companies force us to confront questions we'd rather avoid.

Is violence legitimate only when governments use it? If so, why? Governments have committed the greatest atrocities in history. Private companies have their own atrocities, but generally on a smaller scale.

Is there something inherently wrong with selling military services? We allow private prisons, private intelligence contractors, private security guards with the authority to detain and even kill. Why should infantry and air support be different?

Who should decide when force is used? Elected leaders can be foolish, corrupt, or captured by special interests. Corporate executives are no worse—but are they better?

These questions don't have obvious answers. What's clear is that private military force is now a permanent feature of international relations. The companies are too useful, too profitable, and too deeply embedded in government operations to disappear.

The mercenaries have put on suits. They've rebranded as security contractors. They've hired lobbyists and public relations firms. And they're not going anywhere.