Meelis Oidsalu: There is something inherently disturbing about drone warfare

One of the eeriest features of modern war is the way game logic, computer simulation and the battlefield are converging — all the more reason to combat that sense of unease with first-hand knowledge, writes Meelis Oidsalu
I took part last weekend in the "Kuri Kotkas" ("Angry Eagle" or "Evil Eagle") drone training organized in cooperation between the NGO HK Unicorn Squad, founded by entrepreneur Taavi Kotka and several other organizations. I have to admit that at first I was fairly skeptical about whether someone with no prior experience with drones could accomplish anything in a five-hour introductory course beyond getting acquainted with the theory.
Somewhat surprisingly, we spent an hour on theory and safety training, after which participants were divided into working groups and rotated through different combat-style exercises.
In one workshop, after a brief briefing, we had to attach a mock grenade to a drone, ascend to a height of dozens of meters and drop it onto a marked target. In another, we were given a reconnaissance drone and sent to carry out a surveillance task over a wooded area.
"Kuri Kotkas" trainings began on November 1 last year, with instructors from the Estonian Defense League and the Estonian police. The training content and materials were developed in cooperation with pilots who have frontline experience in the war in Ukraine. Among the instructors themselves is someone who has conducted drone warfare "in the south," meaning Ukraine.
Before heading outdoors, participants could practice indoors with smaller drones — much like conscripts today can accumulate flight time by racing microdrones in barracks.
Right at the outset, instructors warned that what most confuses beginners is flying an FPV (first person view) drone without control aids in a simulator, since learning to handle such a drone is as cognitively demanding as learning to ride a bicycle.
But as with cycling, it takes a few hours of effort before something "clicks" in the brain and movement starts to flow. The first hours in the simulator are very tiring. After that, frustration gives way to a subtle sense of achievement.
Flying a demanding FPV drone in a simulation program, once you get past the initial plateau of frustration, produces a thrill similar to riding a bicycle — only with an extra spatial dimension. FPV control is not merely the acquisition of "knowledge," but the development of a new bodily-spatial perception. In other words, a person learns to extend their nervous system into a machine. You're not just pressing buttons — you learn to perceive space through the drone.
Once you overcome the initial awkwardness, flying an FPV drone feels like a "flow state" in sports or music. As if you yourself were a bird. The sensation is not that you are observing a machine in flight, but that you are in the air.
Even Estonian folklore contains traces of our ancestors' desire to be birds and to fly. Now there is a way to realize that same primal impulse in a simulator and behind FPV goggles. The experience of drone flight is thus a far richer and more multifaceted technological and cultural phenomenon than simply passing time with a robot or using it as a tool.
I recently met with middle school students to discuss the security situation and they asked what they themselves could do for national defense. I recommended taking up drones as a hobby because it is useful not only in a defense context but also in broadening one's future career prospects.
Despite only having launched recently, 1,178 people have already taken part in "Kuri Kotkas" trainings, about one-fifth of them women. According to Taavi Kotka, more than 80 percent of those who attended the introductory course wanted to continue to the next level, which focuses on acquiring FPV drone piloting skills — and not only in a simulator.
So far, 63 pilots who began in the "Kuri Kotkas" program have passed the skills demonstration exam for FPV pilots.
"Kuri Kotkas" is a rare example of a private initiative promoting defense readiness. In addition to Taavi Kotka and HK Unicorn Squad, Telia has donated equipment for the training (15 simulator computers), while Fienta provides free ticketing software. Seventy-five percent of ticket revenue goes to instructor fees, with the remaining quarter covering training costs. The drones used in training were purchased by Kotka himself. The Ministry of Defense has also promised material support.
Trainings take place at HK Unicorn Squad's headquarters in Viimsi, at Rakett69 Science Studios, at Forselius School in Tartu, at Rääma Basic School in Pärnu and at Järva County Vocational Education Center. None of the locations charge rent or other fees. This kind of willingness to cooperate deserves to be publicly acknowledged by name on public broadcasting.

Behind this initiative is not a large, rigid system but a cross-sector network involving the third sector, entrepreneurs, schools, the Ministry of Defense, the Defense League and police instructors. "Kuri Kotkas" is not just a drone training program, but an example of the agility and improvisational capacity of Estonian society.
Based on my own experience, I can confirm that the "Kuri Kotkas" drone training is both engaging and educational, suitable for groups of friends as well as colleagues. There is something inherently unsettling about drone warfare; one of the eeriest aspects of modern warfare is how game logic, computer simulation and the battlefield are converging. All the more reason, then, to alleviate that unease through knowledge. I have noticed that learning, understanding and practicing something are among the best ways to reduce anxiety — even if that educational encounter is brief.
The strength of initiatives like "Kuri Kotkas" lies in translating the abstract concept of "defense readiness" into something tangible. Not a poster, not a speech, but a very concrete activity: you learn, you practice, you make mistakes, you struggle, you improve.
During the training, it was mentioned that a very well-known Estonian cultural figure from the older generation had found in the drone hobby a way to contribute to national defense despite their age and distance from the defense sector. As in the military more broadly, acquiring competencies in drone warfare and defense does not require a willingness to destroy anyone. Defense capability is not the monopoly of professionals — certain skills can be distributed more widely across society. This makes national defense less distant and more participatory.
A drone is no longer a niche gadget or a narrowly military tool, but a new platform of general skills — one that should be encouraged and taught much like basic computer literacy or internet use once were. The training is not intended for a narrow elite, but for the "ordinary person."
I paid for the "Kuri Kotkas" drone training myself and intend to enroll in the follow-up course at my own expense.
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Editor: Marcus Turovski








