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A great deal is said about offensive strategies. We regularly read about blitzkriegs of armoured divisions, outflanking and breaking through in motorised mayhem. There are debates about targeting strategies for bombers, or the effectiveness of ground attack missions that might disable or destroy an enemy's reaction. Sometimes we discuss other means of harming our opponents, by commercial or logistical struggles. It must be said, we also deeply criticise those leaders in the First World War for their wasteful troop charges, or the seemingly pointless static trench lines that barely moved for long periods. It is in the nature of human beings to focus on offense. Every day, in an instinctual way, we judge each other in terms of aggression and weakness, sometimes without realising. For some, it's a prelude to a decision about violence, or perhaps getting the drop on a business rival. But of course attacking someone in some way carries intrinsic risk, and so we seek allies, people who will co-operate to achieve the objective, whatever it may be, which is of course part of our social behaviour. Most of us would not normally invite an attack. This means that we have to consider our strategy to avoid aggression. Do we behave submissively to avoid antagonising a potential aggressor? Do we rattle our sabres, beat our chests, or shout back to intimidate our enemy and dissuade him from being aggressive? Or, as humanity has often done in the history of warfare, do we man the barricades, dig trenches, and ultimately, build the impregnable fortress? The parallels with the natural world must be blindingly obvious. As a species, do we evolve a fast escape mechanism? a fancy threat display? Bigger teeth, claws, and a nastier temper? Or grow a shell the predator cannot bite through? Defensive strategy is far less studied in military science than offense. We should expect that because defense is often a passive activity rather than one demanding action, and in a primal way, far less attractive to military thinking unless circumstance dictates its necessity. We have learned from millenia of armed conflict that taking the initiative is vital. Now let's consider a defensive campaign in 1940. The Battle of Britain. Most of us already have some appreciation of what went on in that struggle for air supremacy over southeast England, so a careful analysis and comparison of factors isn't necessary here. What is important is the lessons that those few months of bitter fighting teach us about defense. In the first place, Britain is an island. The English Channel formed a sort of moat, a barrier to German conquest, and a not inconsiderable one. That was after all why the Luftwaffe were trying to win air supremacy before an invasion of Britain could go ahead. In other defensive measures, we had detection. Air patrols, radar, and the patient alertness of the Observer Corps. All were very important to Britain's defense, but they only provided information. They could only warn us that the enemy was approaching. The next passive defense were barrage balloons, whose trailing steel cables made flying beneath them a hazardous activity, especially at night when the balloons could not easily be seen. The 'blackout', the dampening of light from urban centers, hid the target. Sometimes phoney lights were deliberately lit to mislead German pilots. Even the anti-aircraft guns, with the potential to wreck an enemy plane, were relatively ineffective. Veterans of the London Blitz recalled how gunners admitted their fire was mostly useless. It did of course help maintain morale. As always in warfare, half of it is psychology. When attacked, a population need to remain spirited whatever the trials they are put under, or the military defense will eventually lose support. Londoners sang songs lampooning the Germans, or songs that voiced the hope they had of surviving. As much as was possible, ordinary life carried on, and it was this stability in society that was so important in keeping defiance alive. None of this would win the battle. Note how the most vital factor was the counterattack, the interceptions of German bombers by hard pressed RAF fighters. Offensive action in defense is an important concept we will return to. Physical barriers have always been present in warfare. Even the warriors of ancient times often learned the benefit of the 'shield wall', or the temporary barricade. Rome made a policy during their imperial period of blocking the routes used by nomadic raiders with stout walls. The medieval nobility often resorted to stone fortifications, visual statements of their status and power, as well as formidable barriers in their own right. But castles are never perfect. Siegecraft emerged even in ancient times to deal with the difficulties of getting through those barriers. Sooner or later a way past would be found. In one siege, the defenders of a city casually remarked to the Roman leader that their siege was pointless - they had enough supplies and water to last ten years. "In that case", The Roman general replied, "We'll defeat you in the eleventh." This brings us to another aspect of defense. Playing for time, or making the best of what time you have, can be a dominating factor. If you need time to strengthen your defense, then you must in some way to delay the approach of enemy forces. Once he arrives, then your defenses will only last until he finds a way in. Notice again that the issue of counterattack arises - in siegecraft, it isn't just about the besiegers. The defenders must seek to retain or withhold the initiative. They must attack or counteract attempts by the enemy to destroy or undermine their stone walls. The First World War developed an entire genre of underground war as men tunnelled beneath No-Man's Land, fending off enemy diggings or placing explosive charges beneath their trenches. Soldiers might sally forth to raid the camps of the enemy, or wreck their siege engines. Yet all these measures can only last as long as the defenders have supplies. Ultimately, a defender must decide whether to attack or surrender at the last, for as their supplies run out, they can only choose between the two, or perhaps as the defenders of Masada did, by committing mass suicide rather than face capture by a Roman legion. Notice the difference in policy during the Cold War. Russian troops faced with ambush habitually took cover and defend their position, whereas NATO forces were trained to counterattack, a policy they regarded as superior in that a proactive attempt to regain initiative was better than letting the enemy pick you off one by one. It is the same principle of reaction once more. It is of course worth noting that there is a subtle difference between a castle and it's more elongated cousin, the defensive line. Each is an expensive form of construct that whilst intimidating and potentially difficult to break through, requires huge investment and must be manned in times of insecurity. It is an unfortunate part of human psychology we inherit from the natural world that the strongest defense often protects the weakest entity. As we grow stronger defenses, so our need to remain aggressive lessens, and we rely on stout walls more and more, becoming at worst indifferent to potential danger, believing our defenses will prevail. History tells us they won't. The great problem with elongated defensive lines is that we spread our troops manning them along a wide distance, whereas within the castle they are concentrated. On the other side of the equation, the defensive line means fewer men might be affected directly by enemy action, whilst the defenders of a fort must suffer together. The problem is, when the enemy eventually gets past the wall, the troops manning the defenses are really not where you want them to be, and in all probability, will not react positively, preferring to retain the protection of their defenses. Note that in a lesser sense, the Iraqi's in Kuwait simply sat in their foxholes. Admittedly they were overwhelmed by a highly mobile offensive and lacked proactive coordination, but at the same time, they surrendered in droves, intimdated by alllied attack and the insidious side effects of waiting to be atacked. Notice that the biological parallel with dinsaurs illustrates the point. Predators hunted animals that either ran away, herded together for protection, or grew hard shells and boney plates. It was still necessary however for some of those herbivores to gain some advantage by adding a means of counterattack. The horns of a triceratops, the heavy mace and tail of an ankylosaurus, or the formidable spikes of a stegodaursus. It is often quoted that {i]offense is the best form of defense[/i]. Military history agrees. Natural history agrees. But do you?