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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.)

High-Rise Living, Low-Rise Bonds

Writer: Asha Tripathi
Asha Tripathi
May 4
3 min read

While we have gained privacy and independence, we have lost the ease and warmth of everyday connection.

As I look around at life in today’s high-rise buildings, particularly in a dense and fast-moving city like Mumbai, one thing becomes increasingly and unmistakably clear—our homes have grown taller and more vertical, but our connections, in many ways, have grown quieter and more distant. We live stacked floor above floor, often separated not just by concrete walls and closed doors but also by an unspoken silence. We may recognise a familiar face in the elevator and exchange a courteous smile or, at most, a brief and polite "hello", but beyond that surface-level interaction, relationships rarely deepen or evolve into anything more meaningful.


This reality stands in sharp and almost poignant contrast to the world I grew up in.


I come from a small town, where everyday life unfolded in narrow, bustling lanes lined with houses that were physically attached to one another. Doors were rarely fully shut, and even when they were, they never felt closed in spirit. People would sit outside—on simple chairs, on steps, or even on the floor—talking for hours, laughing freely, and sharing stories that moved easily from one household to another. Neighbours were not just people who happened to live next door—they were, in every sense, an extension of family. There was warmth in those interactions, a sense of easy familiarity, and above all, a deep and reassuring feeling of belonging.


Of course, that kind of closeness was not without its own set of challenges and complications.


There was interference at times. There was curiosity—sometimes excessive and overwhelming. People often knew the details of each other’s lives, whether that knowledge was invited or not. Privacy, as we understand it today, was limited, and personal boundaries were frequently blurred or crossed. Yet, even within that lack of space and occasional overreach, there existed a certain kind of emotional security—a quiet but constant reassurance that someone was always around, always available, always aware.


Today, in the context of high-rise living, the situation feels almost entirely reversed.


We enjoy a greater degree of privacy, independence, and clearly defined personal space. There is no unsolicited advice offered at every turn, no constant observation from those around us, and no routine intrusion into our daily lives. We are free to live on our own terms, make our own choices, and maintain our own boundaries—and that freedom is undeniably valuable. But alongside that independence, there is also a subtle and often unspoken sense of isolation. In moments of need, urgency, or even celebration, we sometimes realise just how little we truly know about the people living around us.


Both ways of living, in their own ways, come with distinct advantages and equally notable drawbacks. The open-lane culture offers a strong sense of connection and community, but sometimes at the cost of personal privacy. High-rise living, on the other hand, offers independence, autonomy, and space but can gradually lead to emotional distance and detachment.


So the question is not really about which way of living is better or more desirable.


The more meaningful answer, perhaps, lies somewhere in the idea of balance.


We do not need to return entirely to the ways of the past, nor should we remain completely enclosed within our private, individual spaces. Even a small and conscious effort—getting to know your neighbour beyond a passing greeting, engaging in occasional conversations, or simply being available and approachable in times of need—can help bridge this growing gap. At the same time, maintaining a respectful awareness of personal boundaries ensures that connection does not unintentionally turn into intrusion.


Nothing, in reality, is entirely right, and nothing is entirely wrong.


Life, as it often does, works best when it finds a balance—where doors may not always be wide open, but they are not firmly or permanently shut either.


(The writer is a tutor based in Thane. Views personal.) 


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