Defence in Depth

Sep 07, 2024 Features / Columnists, Peeping Tom

Kaieteur News – We have been advised by Guyana’s political elder that fifty years ago, the doctrine of defence in depth was developed for Guyana. This came as a shocker especially when it was reported that the adoption of the idea was the brainchild of Forbes Burnham.

The idea of defence in depth evokes images of trench warfare and medieval ramparts—a romantic notion of military defence that belongs more to history books than to the realities of modern warfare. It is a shocking indictment of the PNC government to learn that it was once presented with a paper about defence in depth and had flirted with this antiquated military strategy.

Why anyone would propose this approach for a country like Guyana, a nation of modest resources and limited military capability, is perplexing. It is a case of fighting tomorrow’s wars with yesterday’s playbook, and the results would likely be disastrous.

The basic concept of defence in depth is deceptively simple: instead of concentrating resources on a strong, impregnable front line, defences are spread across multiple layers, each intended to absorb an enemy’s advance. The idea is not to prevent an attack outright but to slow it down, causing attrition along the way and buying time for reinforcements to arrive.

On paper, this might sound reasonable—if you happen to command a vast army, and possess limitless funding to maintain such a complex web of defences. And if the major attack was across land rather through airpower, as one expects would happen should any of Guyana’s neighbour’s attack.  But what happens for example such airpower and sea power be used to cripple the country’s military infrastructure? What happens in defence in depth, then?

For Guyana, a small nation with its limited financial and military resources, defence in depth is nothing short of suicidal. It is the kind of strategy that could only have emerged from the fever dreams of bureaucrats enamoured with military jargon, completely detached from the reality of Guyana’s defence needs. That the PNC government, 50 years ago, even contemplated such a strategy should alarm any rational observer. It is precisely this kind of thinking that could invite catastrophe.

One of the main issues with defence in depth is that it demands an enormous logistical investment—something Guyana can ill afford. Multiple layers of defence mean multiple lines to fortify, supply, and staff. This isn’t just about placing a few soldiers at each outpost; it requires extensive training, advanced equipment, constant surveillance, and a reliable supply chain to keep the system operational. Each line of defence needs to be as strong as the one before it, or else the entire structure crumbles. In essence, it’s a house of cards, where weakness in one layer jeopardizes the entire strategy.

The idea of funnelling billions into a militarized version of Russian nesting dolls is laughable. The government would find itself spending obscene amounts of money on a strategy designed to fail. And fail it would—because the very premise of defence in depth is that you’re willing to trade control of territory for time. In Guyana’s case, this means that in the event of an invasion, we’re essentially inviting the enemy to come deeper into our land, sow chaos, and force us into a protracted defence on terrain we barely have the means to defend. How does this make sense for a small country?

The architects of defence in depth often tout its ability to buy time. But time for what? If an invasion were to occur, what exactly are we stalling for? Reinforcements from where? Certainly not from the small, ill-equipped Guyanese military that has historically relied on international solidarity for even basic upgrades.

In fact, defence in depth assumes that some external power will rush to our aid while we fight a slow, grinding battle on our own soil. It’s the geopolitical equivalent of calling for help while your house is already burning down. The fire department might show up, but by then your home is a smouldering ruin.

This brings us to the core of why defence in depth is a non-starter for Guyana. The geography of the country, with its vast rainforests, savannahs, and rivers, makes it impassable for any invading force by land. The enemy would simply bypass the various layers of defence in depth and neutralize us through aerial and naval bombardment.

Modern warfare is not about trench lines and static frontiers; it’s about speed, precision, and overwhelming force. A well-equipped military, using air and naval power could tear through Guyana’s defences in a matter of minutes. By the time reinforcements—assuming they arrive—are mobilized, the battle is already lost.

The entire notion of defence in depth smacks of nostalgia for a time when wars were fought by marching armies, when territory was won inch by bloody inch. But today’s battles are fought with drones and precision-guided missiles. To suggest that Guyana could effectively wage a defensive war using these old tactics is to betray a fundamental misunderstanding of how modern conflicts unfold. Defence in depth is not only outdated; it’s an invitation to defeat. We might as well be defending ourselves with bows and arrows.

Rather than investing in a defence system that is more suited to the 19th century, we should be looking to the future. Cybersecurity, aerial surveillance, rapid-response units—these are the tools of defence in the 21st century. Guyana’s defence strategy should focus on agility, technology, and alliances, not on the construction of multiple Maginot Lines across its territory.

What is most troubling about the contemplation of defence in depth is that it was likely kept from the public. Had the average Guyanese citizen known that their leaders, fifty years ago, were toying with such an outdated and impractical strategy, there would have been public outcry.

Or would there? In a country where government actions are often shrouded in secrecy and policy is dictated by a small circle of elites, the public remains largely in the dark about critical defence matters.

Defence in depth is a relic of a bygone era. It has no place in the modern world, let alone in the defence of a small, resource-strapped nation like Guyana. The proposal of such a strategy today would be nothing short of madness.

(The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of this newspaper.)

• adoption, Forbes Burnham, Government, Peeping Tom, PNC