I sometimes wonder whether we are becoming a little too fascinated with the future of warfare.
Autonomous
drones, AI-powered command centres, robotic soldiers, intelligent weapons and
machines making decisions faster than humans can comprehend. It's quite a
picture. One that defence technologists, military planners and, of course,
PowerPoint presentations seem particularly fond of.
Meanwhile,
somewhere along our borders, a soldier is dealing with unreliable
communications, difficult terrain, unpredictable weather and an adversary who
is not particularly concerned about our technological ambitions.
He
has a job to do. Today.
And
that makes me wonder whether, in our enthusiasm for tomorrow's wars, we
sometimes overlook the battles that still need to be fought today.
Having
spent much of my professional life in uniform, and now heading a business that
develops drones for the Armed Forces, I find myself looking at this rather
differently than I might have a few years ago. The soldier in me wants
equipment that works, preferably yesterday. The manufacturer in me knows why
that isn't always as simple as it sounds.
The
two have some interesting arguments.
The
battlefield isn't waiting for us
I
recently read KPMG's Battlefield of the Future: How AI Is Transforming
Warfare. One observation caught my attention. Military advantage is
increasingly moving from having superior platforms to being able to make better
decisions, faster.
For
years, military modernisation was largely about acquiring better tanks,
aircraft, artillery and missiles. All of these remain essential, but the
ability to see first, understand what you're seeing and act before the
adversary may increasingly decide the outcome.
The
familiar OODA loop, Observe, Orient, Decide and Act, is getting considerably
shorter. AI is already helping with surveillance, intelligence analysis,
autonomous navigation and counter-drone systems. We don't have to wait for some
futuristic battlefield to see its usefulness.
Ukraine
has demonstrated another uncomfortable reality. A relatively inexpensive drone
can threaten equipment costing millions. Of course, the equation isn't quite
that simple. Drones need operators, batteries, spares, communications and
maintenance. And electronic warfare can render even sophisticated systems
ineffective. A thousand drones without the ability to employ and sustain them
are just a thousand items on an inventory.
I
suspect we sometimes confuse acquiring technology with acquiring capability.
What
does the soldier actually need?
Imagine
an infantry soldier deployed somewhere in the mountains. He wants to know
what's beyond the next ridge. Whether there's movement in the valley. Whether
he can observe an approach without unnecessarily exposing his men.
A
reliable surveillance drone could answer some of these questions immediately.
Naturally,
commanders also want GPS-denied navigation, autonomous swarms,
beyond-visual-line-of-sight operations and increasingly sophisticated sensors.
They should. These are capabilities worth pursuing. But while we work towards
them, there is plenty we can do with technology already available. I see this
from the manufacturing side now.
A
drone that flies beautifully during a demonstration can behave quite
differently at 16,000 feet. Batteries struggle, payload margins shrink, winds
become unpredictable and communications are not always cooperative.
The
temptation in our industry is to promise increasingly impressive capabilities.
The harder task is delivering something that works consistently in the
conditions for which it was purchased. I'd rather see a soldier equipped with a
dependable drone that does its job than one waiting indefinitely for a
technological marvel.
This
doesn't mean settling for yesterday's technology. It means improving today's
capability while developing tomorrow's. And, importantly, training soldiers to
get the best out of what they already have.
When
industry goes to war
There
is a scene in Ford v Ferrari that has stayed with me.
Henry
Ford II reminds Carroll Shelby that during the Second World War, three out of
every five American bombers came from Ford's production line.
He
then says:
"This
isn't the first time Ford Motor's gone to war in Europe."
The
line hits differently now than it did in 2019.
We
naturally associate war with soldiers, commanders and military equipment. But
wars also depend upon factories, engineers, workers, supply chains and the
ability to keep producing when the demand becomes extraordinary.
As
a soldier, I expected equipment to work. I wasn't particularly interested in
the manufacturer's difficulties. Frankly, why should I have been? Today, I find
myself dealing with component sourcing, software, testing, production
schedules, repairs and the occasionally frustrating business of making
everything work together. It has given me a different appreciation of what
defence manufacturing actually involves.
A
prototype that performs well is encouraging. Manufacturing hundreds of
identical systems that perform equally well is another matter altogether. And
being able to increase production rapidly during a national emergency is an
entirely different level of capability.
It's
wonderful to see indigenous defence products being developed. But can we
manufacture them in meaningful numbers? Can we repair them close to the
operational area? Can we replace critical components if imports stop? Can we
modify the software when the adversary changes tactics?
These
questions are rather less glamorous than product launches, but probably more
important. Industry also needs to become comfortable admitting what its
products cannot do. No single manufacturer can address every military
requirement. A system designed for one environment may be completely unsuitable
for another.
I
believe the Armed Forces also deserve more from manufacturers who understand
operational problems and remain engaged in solving them than from vendors who
disappear after delivering equipment.
Buying
technology is the easy part. Absorbing it is harder.
The
Indian Army is already modernising. Unmanned systems, integrated surveillance,
better sensors and increasingly sophisticated technologies are finding their
way into operational formations. But an Army cannot reinvent itself every
eighteen months like a technology company. It has borders to defend, formations
to maintain, soldiers to train and equipment that must remain serviceable every
day.
Introducing
a new system raises questions that rarely feature prominently in product
brochures. Who operates it? Who repairs it? Where does the information go? Who
analyses it? How does it help the commander? And what happens when the network
goes down?
A
drone sending excellent video to a screen is useful. A formation that can
interpret that video and act upon it quickly is considerably more useful. This
is where training, doctrine and organisational adaptability matter. It also
calls for a closer relationship between operational units and industry.
A
soldier flying a drone in extreme cold may discover something that months of
laboratory testing missed. That feedback should find its way back to the
engineers, who should be able to improve the system without waiting years for
an entirely new procurement cycle.
Perhaps
the real advantage in future warfare won't belong to whoever possesses the most
sophisticated technology. It may belong to whoever can adapt it the fastest.
Tomorrow
cannot come at today's expense
I
don't think the Indian Army has the luxury of choosing between preparing for
tomorrow and meeting today's operational requirements. It has to do both.
A
dependable drone in the hands of a trained infantry soldier today may provide
more immediate value than a sophisticated autonomous system that is still five
years away. But that same drone, connected over time to better sensors, secure
communications and intelligent command systems, could become part of a much
more capable battlefield network. That seems like a possible path forward.
Improve what we can today, experiment with what comes next and build the
institutional ability to absorb new technologies as they mature.
Industry
has an equally important part to play. Not merely developing impressive
equipment, but building the manufacturing capacity, technical competence and
responsiveness that the Armed Forces can depend upon.
Armies
cannot become so preoccupied with tomorrow's battlefield that they neglect
today's operational realities. Equally, today's commitments cannot become an
excuse for postponing tomorrow's transformation.
The
objective, surely, is to make today's soldier more effective while
progressively making tomorrow's Army more intelligent, integrated and lethal. And
perhaps we should stop measuring military modernisation only by how advanced
our newest equipment is.
I'd
be more interested in knowing how quickly we can train people to use it, how
reliably it works, how easily we can improve it and how rapidly we can
manufacture more when required. Because the next war may not be won by the
military with the most impressive technology. It may be won by the one that
learns, adapts and produces faster than its adversary.
The
future battlefield will reward innovation. But it will be sustained by
industrial strength and won through operational competence.
For
those of us working in defence technology, that's a useful distinction to keep
in mind.
After
all, there's a world of difference between building something that looks ready
for war and building a country that actually is.




