Why Respect the Rules of War When the Enemy Has None?
Machiavelli and Contemporary Cognitive Warfare
Military history is full of treaties, conventions, and codes intended to humanize warfare. From Antiquity to the Geneva Conventions, the West has clung to the belief that violence could be regulated by morality. Yet today, this ideal collides with an increasingly evident paradox: the rules of war are only respected by those who still believe in them.
Confronted with adversaries who hold no regard for treaties, no scruples about targeting civilians, and no hesitation in manipulating perception, unilateral adherence to international norms no longer appears as a sign of moral superiority—but rather as a structural vulnerability. In asymmetric, cognitive, or hybrid conflicts, those who forbid themselves what the enemy freely exploits are doomed to fail.
This is where Machiavelli’s thinking regains full relevance. Far from promoting blind cynicism, he offers a lucid reading of power: those who wish to endure must not be naïve about human nature. And if they are to outlast their enemies, they must know when to set aside their principles when reality demands it.
In a world where warfare no longer targets soldiers alone but also minds, narratives, certainties, and social structures, morality becomes a strategic variable. And the real question is no longer: “Should we respect the rules of war?” but rather: “When, where, and to what end should they still be respected?”
I. Morality as Voluntary Constraint: Western Legacy and Doctrinal Vulnerability
The notion that warfare should be governed by moral rules is neither universal nor timeless. It is a cultural construct, primarily Western in origin, rooted in Greco-Roman philosophy, Christian natural law, and the devastations of modern conflict. Over the centuries, this moral approach to war evolved into a normative framework designed to humanize violence, protect civilians, and preserve a legal structure among organized powers.
In practice, this ethical stance served a dual purpose: to limit the excessive use of force… but also to legitimize violence when it was exercised “properly.” Wars were waged, lives destroyed—but according to rules. This illusion of moral warfare grew stronger after 1945, with the rise of international conventions and strict rules of engagement—often held up as evidence of the moral superiority of liberal democracies over other regimes.
Yet this position rests on a fragile assumption: that the adversary shares the same moral references. In modern warfare—be it asymmetric, hybrid, or cognitive—such an adversary rarely exists. The enemy is often irregular, outside the bounds of law, deterritorialized, and sometimes fanatical or backed by third-party powers.
In this context, morality becomes a voluntary constraint, imposed by one side… and exploited by the other. It no longer serves as a shared framework; it becomes a tactical advantage for those who ignore it, and an operational handicap for those who uphold it.
II. Machiavelli vs. the Idealists: Better Feared Than Virtuous
Niccolò Machiavelli, in The Prince, does not advocate gratuitous cruelty or absolute immorality. What he offers is a realistic reading of power: those who rule cannot survive by being virtuous at all times, because the world itself is not. To govern, to fight, or to win means accepting the need to do what is necessary, even when it contradicts the virtues one was taught.
For Machiavelli, a good leader must know how not to be good when circumstances demand it. It is not a matter of loving violence, but of understanding that violence is sometimes the only language the enemy respects. This logic applies perfectly to modern warfare, where enemies use fear, terror, manipulation, and deception as their primary weapons. In such a context, virtue alone is no protection—it is an offering.
The mistake of modern liberal democracies lies in believing their virtue protects them, when in reality it exposes them. By trying to embody the “side of good,” they force themselves into behavioral constraints that the enemy doesn’t even consider. While one side restricts itself for the sake of appearances, the other strikes without hesitation.
Machiavellian realism does not suggest abolishing morality, but rather treating virtue as a tool—not as a dogma. The prince should not be cruel… but he must know how to be, if that is what ensures the survival of his state.
III. Cognitive Warfare: When the Enemy Targets Perception, Not Soldiers
Modern warfare no longer focuses solely on military positions or enemy forces. It targets opinions, emotions, narratives, and mental frameworks. The objective is no longer just to defeat an armed adversary, but to weaken a society from within by attacking its symbolic and cognitive foundations.
In this kind of warfare, traditional rules become obsolete. The distinction between civilian and combatant fades. The battlefield is no longer a territory—it’s a social network, a video platform, a search engine. The strikes come through images, algorithms, disinformation, and biased narratives. The weapons are invisible—but devastatingly effective.
And yet, Western militaries continue to impose upon themselves rules of engagement inherited from another era. They refrain from manipulating civilian populations, from influencing internal debates, or from exploiting the enemy’s cultural divisions—all tactics that the adversary applies without hesitation.
In cognitive warfare, failing to strike the enemy’s mind is a guarantee of defeat. And attempting to apply classical ethical principles in this domain is like playing a video game against an opponent armed with a knife.
IV. The Strategic Risk of Asymmetric Morality
When morality becomes unilateral, it ceases to be a shared framework and transforms into an advantage for those who reject it. In asymmetric conflicts, this dynamic is systematic: one side is bound by rules, the other is freed from them, and both operate under entirely different logics.
The amoral adversary exploits these rules as vulnerabilities:
They use civilians as human shields.
They take cover in hospitals, schools, and places of worship.
They exploit children, knowing that Western societies are especially sensitive—emotionally and in the media—when childhood is involved.
They provoke reactions to manipulate public opinion and the media.
They weaponize international conventions—not to honor them, but to trap those who do.
Within this context, respecting the rules becomes a weapon for the enemy. Every bomb withheld is a position gained. Every hesitation born of ethical restraint becomes a tactical opportunity. Morality becomes a lever to win without fighting.
Worse still, those who follow the rules are publicly condemned at the slightest misstep, while those who consistently violate them often enjoy a form of media immunity—precisely because no one expects anything from them.
This is not a call to abandon morality, but a recognition that asymmetric ethics create unbalanced warfare, where military superiority can be neutralized by a consciously assumed moral inferiority.
V. Toward an Ethics of Exception? Pragmatic Machiavellianism and Shadow Warfare
When faced with adversaries who respect no rules and exploit ours against us, two extreme temptations emerge: either abandon morality altogether, or cling to it rigidly, even at the cost of failure. Neither option is viable.
There is a middle path—more realistic, more Machiavellian: to treat ethics as a contextual tool, to be activated or suspended depending on the strategic objective. This does not mean becoming cruel or unjust by nature, but rather not forbidding oneself such options by principle when the stakes demand it.
This approach is exemplified by the SAROD doctrine (Secured AI-Regulated Operation with Direct human override), a concept I have developed to integrate AI power within military operations while maintaining strict human control. SAROD illustrates the necessity of flexible ethical governance, where technology is effectively employed without sacrificing human responsibility.
Machiavelli does not advocate chaos, but political intelligence. He does not glorify betrayal, but the ability to survive in a world where others betray. In cognitive warfare, this clarity is essential: one must adapt their conduct to the nature of the battlefield.
This means, concretely:
Using morality as a façade when it serves, especially to influence public opinion and win the narrative war;
Not submitting to it when it endangers the mission, especially in covert operations or existential threats;
Embracing this flexibility not as a weakness, but as a strategic strength.
In this framework, ethics is neither rejected nor sanctified. It becomes one tool among others, a variable to be adjusted in the conduct of operations. It is subordinate to survival—not the other way around.
VI. Hierarchy of Fronts, Hierarchy of Constraints: Differentiated Ethics as a Doctrine of Effectiveness
In a fragmented conflict landscape—divided between visible operations, covert actions, and cognitive dominance—it becomes irrational to apply the same moral standard across all levels of engagement. A clear-sighted military force does not reject ethics, but rather learns to organize it, modulate it, and at times temporarily set it aside, depending on the operational front.
Three operational levels can be distinguished, each with its own calibrated ethical threshold based on its role, visibility, and strategic objectives.
1. Conventional Operations: Morality as a Tool of Strategic Communication
These include visible missions: peacekeeping, humanitarian interventions, precision strikes, and joint-force actions.
Ethics is highlighted and emphasized: it helps build a narrative, reassure public opinion, and strengthen international legitimacy.
In this context, adhering to moral rules is beneficial, as it reinforces image, undermines the enemy’s moral standing, and allows one to win without appearing imperialistic.
2. Special Operations: Contextual, Flexible, and Controlled Ethics
These are covert, targeted missions, often conducted in hostile or legally ambiguous environments.
Ethics here is instrumentalized, not abandoned: rules are adapted to the severity of the threat and the nature of the mission.
The objective is immediate effectiveness, discretion, and concrete results—even if that means circumventing certain norms within a controlled framework.
3. OSINT / AI / Cognitive Warfare Operations: Beyond Framework, Beyond Morality
These actions operate in gray zones: propaganda, narrative infiltration, opinion manipulation, algorithmic targeting.
They fall outside traditional laws of war, because there are no frontlines, no uniforms, no declared theaters.
Here, effectiveness outweighs all ethical considerations. What matters is the psychological outcome, the confusion sown, and the narrative imposed.
This hierarchical model is not a moral breakdown—it is a doctrine of effectiveness and lucidity. It does not deny the existence of ethics; it domesticates it in service of strategy. Ethics is no longer an absolute—it becomes a flexible parameter, calibrated to the realities of the battlefield.
Conclusion
In a world where wars are no longer declared, where the enemy bears no flag or uniform, and where battles are fought in minds more than on terrain, respecting the rules of war when the enemy has none is the equivalent of fighting unarmed.
Unilateral adherence to morality becomes a vulnerable—and at times naïve—position. It is not virtue that guarantees victory, but the ability to master one's principles and adapt them to reality. This is Machiavelli’s enduring lesson: those who wish to survive must not abandon morality, but must know when it becomes dangerous.
This does not mean descending into barbarism—it means recognizing that morality is not a sacred essence, but a strategic resource. A lucid military must learn to use ethics when it enhances its power, and set it aside when it becomes a liability.
In modern cognitive warfare, whoever controls the narrative wins. And to control it, one must at times operate in the shadows, wield truth as a weapon, and abandon the rules of a game the enemy never agreed to play.