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By:

Commodore S.L. Deshmukh

31 October 2024 at 8:30:19 am

The Beam That Blinds the Drone

As cheap drones reshape the battlefield, India’s T-SHUL BEAM points to a future in which electronic warfare may matter as much as firepower The drone has definitively become the weapon of choice for the modern battlefield. Cheap, expendable and increasingly autonomous, unmanned aerial vehicles can now threaten troops, armour, airfields and critical infrastructure without requiring the attacker to risk a pilot. Their proliferation has created a corresponding demand for counter-drone systems...

The Beam That Blinds the Drone

As cheap drones reshape the battlefield, India’s T-SHUL BEAM points to a future in which electronic warfare may matter as much as firepower The drone has definitively become the weapon of choice for the modern battlefield. Cheap, expendable and increasingly autonomous, unmanned aerial vehicles can now threaten troops, armour, airfields and critical infrastructure without requiring the attacker to risk a pilot. Their proliferation has created a corresponding demand for counter-drone systems that can respond quickly and at a cost proportionate to the threat. This is where beam-based anti-drone technology enters the picture. Broadly, such systems fall into two categories. Hard-kill systems use concentrated laser energy to physically damage or destroy a drone. Soft-kill systems, by contrast, use radio-frequency or electromagnetic energy to disrupt the electronic links that allow a drone to communicate, navigate and transmit information. Sophisticated Weaponry Hard-kill laser systems focus an intense beam of light on a vulnerable part of an incoming UAV - its carbon-fibre structure, control surfaces, battery or other critical components. The concentrated energy rapidly heats the target, potentially burning through its structure or disabling optical sensors and bringing the aircraft down. India’s DRDO has demonstrated a 30kW laser system, while Israel’s Rafael has developed the Lite Beam system. Soft-kill systems take a different route. Rather than physically destroying the aircraft, they interfere with the electronic architecture that keeps it airborne. Directional radio-frequency energy can disrupt command-and-control links, video feeds, telemetry and satellite-navigation signals such as GPS or other GNSS services. Depending on the drone and the nature of the disruption, the aircraft may be forced to land, return to its launch point or lose control. It is in this category that the T-SHUL BEAM system developed by Indian defence company IG Defence deserves attention. T-SHUL BEAM is a man-portable, directional counter-drone system designed for tactical deployment. Its multi-band radio-frequency architecture is intended to target several of the links on which unmanned aerial systems depend, including command-and-control, telemetry, video transmission and GNSS navigation. Its directional configuration allows an operator to concentrate electronic countermeasures on a particular aerial target rather than indiscriminately radiating energy across a large area. That matters on a battlefield where the warning time against a small UAV or first-person-view drone may be measured in seconds. The appeal of such a system is therefore not simply that it can counter a drone. It is that it can potentially bring counter-drone capability closer to the soldier and to the tactical edge. Large counter-UAS installations have their place, particularly around fixed and high-value assets. But forward units require systems that can move with them, be deployed rapidly and operate against small, low-cost unmanned platforms without imposing the logistical burden associated with conventional weapons. The T-SHUL BEAM’s significance also lies in its proposed integration with an artificial-intelligence-enabled battle-management architecture. IG Drones, the original equipment manufacturer, has stated that T-SHUL BEAM has been integrated with GRID, its indigenous AI-powered platform. The GRID architecture is intended to bring sensors, intelligence systems, unmanned platforms and command elements into a common operational framework. The attraction of such integration is obvious. Countering drones is increasingly less about a single weapon and more about the speed of the kill chain: detecting a threat, identifying it, deciding what response is appropriate and directing that response before the target disappears. An AI-enabled command architecture can potentially improve situational awareness, facilitate real-time threat detection and coordinate different systems operating simultaneously. This is particularly relevant as drone warfare evolves from isolated attacks towards increasingly complex and potentially swarming operations. A battlefield crowded with drones cannot be managed effectively if every sensor and weapon operates as a separate island. The advantage will increasingly belong to forces capable of turning disparate streams of information into a coherent picture and responding at machine speed. The T-SHUL BEAM’s reported demonstration at Pokhran represents another step in India’s attempt to build a domestic ecosystem spanning drones, counter-drones, artificial intelligence and electronic warfare. Counter-drone warfare is likely to be a recurring requirement rather than a niche capability. Importing every component of such an ecosystem would leave India vulnerable to supply-chain disruptions, technology restrictions and foreign-exchange pressures. Indigenous development, even when undertaken by relatively small private-sector companies, can broaden the country’s technological base and give the armed forces greater freedom to adapt systems to their operational requirements. Economics of the Contest Yet the real measure of any counter-drone system will ultimately be operational rather than promotional. Electronic warfare is inherently a contest between countermeasure and counter-countermeasure. Drone designers can alter frequencies, communications protocols, navigation methods and levels of autonomy. A system that is effective against one generation of drones may require modification against the next. The battlefield, in other words, will remain a technological arms race. The economics of the contest nevertheless favour directed-energy and electronic-warfare solutions. A conventional interceptor expends a missile or projectile against each target. A beam-based system can, subject to its power supply, engagement envelope and other operational constraints, engage targets without expending conventional ammunition. The marginal cost of an interception can consequently be dramatically lower. The beam also travels at effectively the speed of light, removing the flight time associated with kinetic interceptors. In densely populated areas or around sensitive infrastructure, bringing down a drone with a projectile can create its own hazards. Electronic disruption, when properly controlled, offers the possibility of neutralising the threat without sending an interceptor crashing back to earth. These advantages should not obscure the limitations. Soft-kill systems depend on the vulnerabilities of the target’s electronic architecture and may be less effective against increasingly autonomous drones that require fewer external communications. Weather, range, power availability, frequency management and the sophistication of an adversary's electronic countermeasures can all affect performance. No single technology is likely to provide a complete answer. The future of counter-drone warfare will therefore belong not to the beam alone but to layered defence combining. The emergence of systems such as T-SHUL BEAM suggests that India is beginning to build the technological pieces of that architecture at home. (The writer is a retired naval aviation officer and a defence and geopolitical analyst. Views personal.)

Cutting More Than Just Cane

Writer: Anusreeta Dutta
Anusreeta Dutta
May 4
5 min read

The silent crisis of hysterectomies among Maharashtra’s sugarcane workers reveals how a brutal labour system turns women’s bodies into relentless instruments of productivity.

In Maharashtra’s sugar heartland, the harvest is more than just cane and crushing mills. It’s also a story about women whose bodies are hurt by poor working conditions, lack of medical care, and a labour system that doesn’t care about health. Hysterectomies have become a worrying sign of survival, not choice, among sugarcane workers, especially in Beed and nearby districts.

 

For years, the problem was right in front of everyone. Women cut cane in long, tiring shifts. They often had to move with their kids, live in temporary shelters, and work far away from bathrooms, pharmacies, and clinics. Menstruation, pregnancy, illness, and pain that isn't treated are not seen as health problems but as things that get in the way of making a living. Because of this, some women have their uteruses removed at very young ages, often in private clinics, supposedly to avoid missing workdays and to keep up with the seasonal work cycle.

 

The numbers are shocking. A Maharashtra government-ordered investigation in Beed found that 13,861 of the 82,309 women sugarcane workers examined had had hysterectomies. This is about 17% of the total. Other reports have found much higher levels in local samples. Some studies and campaigns say that the rate in Beed has sometimes reached 36%, which is much higher than the national average of about 3%. Recent reports say that the problem is still there, with hundreds of women in Beed apparently getting surgery before the 2024 harvest season. Many of them are in their early thirties.

 

Structural Problem

To understand why this is happening, we need to look at the rural areas outside of the hospital. Cutting sugarcane is one of the hardest jobs in Indian farming. Women work in the heat for hours, carry heavy loads, and work in dusty conditions. They also can't decide when to take a break or go to the bathroom. When mills need people to be productive all the time, even normal bodily functions are seen as problems.

 

At this point, the problem becomes structural. Women workers are not just making medical decisions for themselves; they are also responding to a work environment that doesn't protect them during menstruation, pregnancy, infection, or recovery from surgery. If an employee misses a few days of work each month or if pregnancy affects seasonal output, hysterectomy may seem like a reasonable solution, but it is not. This is not free choice in any real way.

 

Consent Under Pressure

The most upsetting aspect of this narrative is the issue of permission. A hysterectomy is a serious surgical procedure with long-term physical and psychological implications. It should only be done when medically required and after an educated discussion. Activists and scholars have repeatedly expressed concern that many women cane cutters are not receiving that level of care, but are instead coerced into the procedure by a combination of fear, ignorance, family pressure, clinic incentives, and labour insecurity.

 

‘Choice’ becomes a very narrow idea when a woman lives in a migrant community without good healthcare, has pain and infections that keep coming back, and every day she doesn't work puts her family's finances at risk. In that case, even surgery that is dangerous might seem like the only way to keep your job. This issue cannot be confined to individual medical decisions; it reflects a broader failure in labour regulation, rural health access, and gender equity.

 

The patterns on Beed have made it a symbol of the crisis. The area sends tens of thousands of workers to the sugarcane fields every year. Women in the area have been stuck in cycles of drought, debt, migration, and informal work for a long time. In these situations, the body becomes a part of the industrial process. A woman’s reproductive health is not safeguarded as a right but rather regarded as an issue to be resolved.

 

This is important because the problem mostly affects people who work in the sugarcane industry.  It shows how a profitable farming business can work with workers who are very unstable. Sugar production can make people rich and give them political power, but the human cost is often in the parts of the supply chain that people don’t see, like migrant camps, makeshift shelters, private hospitals, and tired bodies that keep the business going.

 

Justice Needed

To be real, a response must start with workers’ rights. Women who work in sugarcane fields need to be sure that they are clean, get enough rest, have maternity leave, are paid fairly, and have access to healthcare that is not tied to their employers or contractors. It is important to keep an eye on clinics to make sure that hysterectomies are not done by mistake, under duress, or for profit. Before the situation becomes a surgical emergency, public health experts need to talk to migrant workers.

 

But just having medical oversight isn't enough to make things better. It needs to deal with the things that make surgery seem like the answer. That means looking at seasonal migration plans again, making life better for people in rural areas, and making sure that women don't have to give up their reproductive health to stay alive. The sugar economy will keep being built on a terrible foundation until then: the hidden exploitation of women's bodies and work.

 

There is more than one way to deal with the sugarcane crisis in Maharashtra. It is about a system that makes women's pain normal, their work worthless, and their health negotiable. In a fair agricultural system, women wouldn't have to cut cane by taking out their own organs.

 

The crisis is being made particularly difficult to address by the intersection, mobility, and invisibility. Sugarcane workers don’t lie beyond the formal labour protection code, which means that standard safeguards such as occupational health regulations, insurance coverage, and employer accountability rarely apply in practice. The ‘migrant status’ further complicates their access to public healthcare systems, as entitlements are often tied to place of residence.  Continuity of care becomes impossible for women constantly moving in between districts. Preventive healthcare, early diagnosis of reproductive issues, and follow-up consultations are absent.

 

There is also a political economy dimension that cannot be ignored. Maharashtra’s sugar industry is deeply embedded in religious politics, with cooperative mills often linked to powerful local elites. This results in a structural imbalance where the economic importance of sugar production overshadows labour welfare concerns. As long as productivity and output remain the primary success metrics, the conditions under which that output is achieved remain under examined. In this regard, women’s health remains an externality acknowledged in reports but is rarely addressed in policy with urgency. Normalizing medical intervention as a productivity tool is equally concerning. The rising dependence on hysterectomy signifies not only deficiencies in healthcare but also a profound diminishment of bodily autonomy due to economic constraints. When surgeries become a normal part of work, it shows that both medical ethics and labour governance are failing.  This is not merely a public health issue; it is a question of rights, dignity, and the limits of economic erosion.

 

(The writer is a columnist and climate researcher with experience in political

analysis, ESG research and energy policy. Views personal.)

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