The Housewives' Revolution

Armin comes home in the evening, and once again there’s nothing to eat. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and because he’s had a grueling day with his big machines, he’s getting irritable. “Are you playing with Legos again?” he taunts the lady of the house. “You’re just like those Ukrainian housewives with your 3D printer…”

“Oh, shut up,” says the lady of the house, giving him a kiss. “You know the boys are waiting for that stuff. Every drone saves their lives, and this way I can help ensure they’re victorious and defend our freedom. It’s not always just about your tanks and grenades…” She winks at him mischievously and adds: “I still have to solder in a few more stacks and wait until the 3D printer is done. You can order something from the Italian place in the meantime.” 

Don't underestimate my Lego

Armin grumbles a bit, grabs his phone, and places the food order elsewhere. He knows his better half is right and is doing a great job. He does have a company that builds the heavy stuff and sells it to the guys who need it just as much as bread, because after these years of peace, there’s simply not enough of it. But what his wife is doing there—that’s just really innovative, and he can hardly keep up. Even after years of conflict, many don’t seem to have understood what this flying toy is capable of. Armin knows that the “Lego” comparison was a bit unfair… “Then again, have you ever stepped on a Lego brick barefoot?” he thinks to himself, and has to laugh at the thought of that famous meme with the shark that supposedly stepped on a Lego and opens its mouth wide in a silent scream to the sky.

Armin grabs a beer, turns on the TV, and ends up watching the ARTE documentary showing Ukrainian drone pilots in frontline action. “Those are some tough guys,” he thinks to himself. And I know that without the support of housewives like mine and many others who help out, this wouldn’t be possible. 44,000 employees working at 181 locations in over 30 countries are a good reason every day for him to be very proud of his work. But what lies behind the drone weapon constantly commands his respect anew, because it emerged from the grassroots: the first images from Ukraine of fighting north of Kyiv in 2022 showed small DJIs being used as tactical drones for close reconnaissance; large Turkish and Iranian kamikaze drones were there from the start, but then came the major revolution on the ground: FPV drones. “First Person View” is the name of the gadget, because a pilot flies these racing drones with goggles, as if he were sitting right there in the cockpit. And alongside drones that drop bombs, the FPV system in particular has become a living symbol of the war in Ukraine. The flying explosive charge enters the hatches of tanks, into bunkers and positions, tracks down individual targets, and attacks equipment costing millions, blowing it up with a device worth just $300 to $600.

Every time he thinks about it, Armin feels completely different. “Those housewives,” he thinks. They are the ones behind the success of this flying weapon system, he knows that. In Ukraine, there are around 500 companies involved in building drones. But there are also all the crowdfunding initiatives that keep the whole thing running and ensure drones reach the front lines—after all, a skilled operator can shoot down over 30 a day. By 2025, Ukraine will have procured 4.5 million drones, 95 percent of them domestically produced. “That’s quite a lot of housewives keeping them in business,” Armin thinks to himself. Because that’s the logistics of drones: decentralized across many households and workshops, where people are tinkering, soldering, and manufacturing with 3D-printed batteries and an Amazon-like distribution network, where units on the front lines can order what they need. And where modifications and improvements are made within weeks, even in tight deadlines—and this rapid cycle of knowledge is both desired and supported.

Always these naysayers

“That won’t work for us,” Armin sighs, takes a big gulp of beer, and thinks about the food that will hopefully be delivered soon. He knows there are too many armchair critics, naysayers, and structural roadblocks at work; even with the big stuff, they have endless problems, and they know it. How is one supposed to build drones in a decentralized way with housewives, or assign them to units that then handle the things and attach explosives to them to fly them around? That’s not even conceivable in the heath of Unterlüß, nor in the wilderness of Allentsteig. “Yet our guys need this stuff; you can see how efficient it is.” 

The doorbell rings. Armin gets up, walks through the kitchen; the lady of the house isn’t distracted and is still deburring 3D-printed parts. “Every single woman and every single man makes an invaluable contribution,” Armin thinks to himself and gives her an appreciative kiss on the forehead. Ukraine deserves special credit for fighting so effectively despite limited resources. “The innovative spirit and fighting spirit of the Ukrainian people are a true inspiration,” he thinks to himself and opens the door. I wonder how many drones she’ll finish today? The pizza is here.