Analysis of Predator

The Distorted Line Between Success and Failure in UAS 

The Story of Abe Karem

 

The unmanned aerial systems (UAS) industry, after several years as a blossoming fledgling commercial field, appears to finally be stabilizing. Where over-promising under-delivering glorified hobbyists once dominated the market, now is home to topical experts with advanced equipment and experience enabling educated business decisions. It seems that as UAS enters the realm of the mainstream, success becomes less associated with innovative development and more with monetary gains. Indeed, the line that divided the firms in the market a few years ago from the ones that are still there, is the capability to make a profit. However, there is two critical observations regarding the UAS industry that may not be apparent but warrant appreciation. As infantile and unruly as it seems, the UAS industry is not new, and some of the most crucial actors in the fundamental days of the modern unmanned aircraft market would hardly be considered successful in monetary evaluation. The book, Predator, by Richard Whittle alleviates on this fact. Whittle tells the story of the Predator aircraft, perhaps the most quintessential UAS to ever be designed, from its earliest predecessor prototypes. The foundational individual to the story is aeronautical engineer and Predator designer, Abe Karem. Karem, an Israeli immigrant originally from Baghdad, would never see financial success from his most famous creation. However, without him, the UAS industry may be in a fundamentally different place today. Ultimately, Abe Karem’s failure to profit on his aircraft due to bureaucracy and his own personality challenges the notion that success in the UAS industry should be measured by profit, but instead by contribution to the industry.

Some of the roots to the concept of the Predator were born during the Yom Kippur war. To aid Israeli military during this conflict, Abe was tasked with the mission of constructing a target drone that could mounted under the wing of fighter aircraft. This was a necessity due to the armies of Israels’ Arab enemies utilizing cutting edge Soviet technology and tactics that effectively shut down operations of the Israeli Airforce. While the drone would not be flight tested before the war’s end, initial trials were a success. Exposure to this first drone project inspired Abe that the future of his career was ultimately unmanned. Despite the reputation for drones being unreliable at that time, he decided that he would be a pioneer of unmanned aviation. To do this however, he knew he had to quit his job at the premier aircraft manufacturer in the region, Israel Aerospace Industries (IAI). He believed that the government influence over the company made it unfit for innovation; an inefficient public works program with the slow metabolism of a large corporation. Abe believed that small teams of topical experts would ultimately be the way to innovate the industry. From there, he started his own company is Israel.

Abe’s beliefs when he left IAI were not unlike many of the early members of the commercial UAS industry around 2010. Both in manufacturing and operations, small teams of people working on proprietary and open source products are the reason drones have become diverse, affordable, and powerful tools today. Once separated from the bounds and regulation of manned aviation, development of UAS in commercial markets grew so fast that entire generations of designs and methodology can become antiquated in as little as a year; 15 times faster than it takes a manned aircraft to move from initial design to first flight.

 Unfortunately, Abe’s new firm in Israel would not find the success that it probably deserved. IAI, with its close government ties, essentially inhibited Abe from selling his UAS products, or getting his ideas for new drone concepts approved. While some of his ideas were unorthodox at the time, namely a combat capable drone that serves a purpose other than to be a decoy, bureaucracy prevented him from continuing his work is Israel. The bureaucratic red tape would not end for Abe Karem in Israel. After immigrating to the United States, despite the traction he eventually produced, bureaucracy would halt Abe’s ability to make profit. After the success of a prototype long duration UAS, the Albatross, Karem received funding from the DARPA to develop his concept further. Through that funding, the true initial prototype of the Predator, Amber, was born. Amber was a very capable system flying for incredibly long durations, carrying almost as much fuel as the aircraft weighed itself. Amber exceeded the expectations of military contracts. However, bureaucratic ties ultimately destroyed the project. Due to varying contract requirements between branches, a poor track record of UAS from other firms, and an Airforce controlled by manned pilots biased against drones, the Amber program was cancelled. Karem, after struggling to maintain his company without extensive contracts, had to sell his company's assets along with the rights to his designs, to general dynamics. The acquisition of the amber by General dynamics was ultimately the end of Karem’s control over the drone design that would become the infamous predator. Eventually Abe would leave General Dynamics, and his life's work, to start another company of his own.

However, lack of control was not the only reason Karem left General Dynamics. More simply, he left because it was not what he did best. Abe did not particularly care if Amber performed well for general dynamics, he cared that the design was innovative. Beyond being an engineer, Abe liked being on the cutting edge and advancing his field. Therefore, even when he had engineers employed at his company, Karem remained the primary designer of his products. In many ways, this may be a critical reason as to why his companies failed. At a certain point, a company needs a strong manager to make a profit, not just an individual with good product ideas. Producing cutting edge designs is what Karem was passionate about, owning his own business to do so was simply a means to completing his dream. If Abe could have designed aircraft that would have pushed the boundry without having to also run a company, he likely would have. One could argue that, at least in the formative years for unmanned aviation, Abe would have never succeeded to make money on his ideas because his personality would never had allowed him to do so. 

With the understanding that the companies of Abe Karem failed due to bureaucratic constraints and Abe’s own unrelenting need to be on the cutting edge, it can be difficult to classify him as a failure. After all, if it was not for the Predator that arose from Karem’s Amber, it is unlikely that UAS would be in the same place physically, operationally, and philosophically as it is today. Financially, Amber was a blunder for its creator but for the industry that would arise from it, Abe is a founding father. Retrospectively, it may be short sited to criticize the financial failures of the commercial drone revolution that occurred over the last decade. Each individual player, from defunct creators of open source software to uninformed consumer drone owners seeking to make a quick profit, are crucial to the state of UAS today.