Canada’s Next Fighter Jet: Navigating a Decades-Long Defence Dilemma
What happens when a political grenade is lobbed into one of the costliest and most momentous defence deals in decades? This is precisely the situation Canada found itself in when Mark Carney, in a hypothetical scenario as newly minted prime minister, directed a review of the nation’s planned purchase of American F-35 fighter jets and explored rival options. The debate over replacing Canada’s aging fleet of CF-18 Hornets represents a protracted saga, spanning decades and highlighting critical questions about defence spending, industrial strategy, and national sovereignty.
Fighter aircraft remain a fundamental component of modern military capabilities, employed for crucial roles such as air defence, offensive combat operations, reconnaissance, and close ground support. Canada’s current fleet of CF-18 Hornets, initially numbering 138 when they entered service in 1982, faces increasing obsolescence. Their outdated status is not merely an inconvenience but a significant liability. A recent assessment by the Canadian military underscored this concern, revealing that a substantial 60 percent of the Royal Canadian Air Force’s (RCAF) inventory is currently unserviceable, raising urgent questions about the future of Canadian Fighter Aircraft.
Canada’s Long Road to Replacing the CF-18
The quest for a successor to the CF-18 fleet formally commenced in 1997. At this time, the Canadian government made a strategic investment in an American-led program aimed at developing the next generation of fighter aircraft. This participation was intended to secure Canada a place at the table and potentially provide industrial benefits down the line.
Thirteen years later, in 2010, the Conservative government led by Stephen Harper made a firm commitment to acquire sixty-five F-35 jets, manufactured by the formidable United States aerospace giant, Lockheed Martin. However, the incoming Liberal government under Justin Trudeau, elected in 2015, vowed to reconsider the deal. This shift was driven by significant doubts regarding the plane’s military necessity for Canada’s specific defence needs and apprehension about the enormous financial implications of the purchase. Estimates, factoring in the full lifecycle costs of the aircraft, projected the total expense could soar to an astonishing $25 billion.
The F-35 Decision and Renewed Uncertainty
Following their election, the Liberals initiated a new phase of consultations and evaluation. This process involved scrutinizing alternative platforms, including Sweden’s Saab Gripen E, often presented as a potential competitor. The evaluation period proved lengthy and drawn-out, seemingly reaching a resolution in January 2023. At this point, the government announced its decision to proceed with the acquisition of F-35 jets after all, albeit in a larger quantity of eighty-eight aircraft, demonstrating a newfound commitment.
In reality, the government’s options were considerably constrained. Significant pressure existed to uphold long-standing defence partnerships with US contractors. Such relationships often ensure that Canadian aerospace firms receive a share of the lucrative maintenance and production contracts. Furthermore, many key North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) allies had already committed to purchasing the F-35. Opting out at that stage would have positioned Canada as a notable outlier within the alliance. The situation was akin to extensive window-shopping only to end up buying the product that has become the de facto standard among one’s peers. Consequently, the decision was widely described as “an admission of defeat” after years of hesitation.
However, the apparent resolve behind the F-35 purchase is once again showing signs of dissolving. NATO partner Portugal has recently launched its own review of its planned F-35 acquisition. In Canada, lingering tensions related to the potential return of a Donald Trump administration in the US, combined with a dramatically altered global geopolitical landscape, are triggering similar doubts. These concerns revolve around whether the F-35 deal still aligns with Canada’s evolving defence priorities. The Saab Gripen E, once considered a long shot, is now suddenly back in serious contention.
It is important to clarify that, as of this writing, the F-35 contract has not been officially cancelled. The first tranche of sixteen aircraft is still expected to be delivered sometime next year. Yet, at the heart of the renewed debate lies an uncomfortable and fundamental truth: committing to these jets inherently ties Canada’s operational sovereignty to the unpredictable whims of future US governments. The United States controls critical aspects of the F-35 program, including essential software systems and future upgrades, creating a dependency that raises strategic concerns for Canada.
A Look Back: Canada’s Fighter Jet History
One way to vividly illustrate this predicament and underscore its significance for Canadians is to examine the nation’s own historical journey in military aviation. A visit to the Canada Aviation and Space Museum in Ottawa, situated on the grounds of the former Rockcliffe air base, offers a compelling perspective. The museum provides a front-row seat to the pivotal choices Canada has made regarding its air force over the decades and the compromises those decisions have often entailed.
Canada has operated jet aircraft since the very dawn of the jet age. The museum’s exhibits, however, raise pointed questions about the current trajectory of Canada’s defence strategy and, critically, who the nation is willing to depend on to achieve its security objectives. Opened in 1960, the museum occupies a space the size of a large hangar and houses an impressive collection of over 130 aircraft and artifacts. The collection spans a wide range of aviation history, from early biplanes and bush pilot aircraft to the original Canadarm robotic arm used in space.
Navigating through the museum, past displays honouring the aerial heroes of the world wars, visitors eventually reach a crowded exhibit chronicling every generation of Canadian Fighter Aircraft. This display offers a chronological journey through Canada’s military jet evolution.
The very first jet to serve with the RCAF, the de Havilland Vampire, recognizable by its distinctive twin-boom tail, joined the fleet in 1946. It is remarkably small, capable of fitting atop a museum module. This aircraft gained cultural recognition through Frederick Forsyth’s classic Christmas fable “The Shepherd” and its annual reading on the CBC by Alan Maitland. Continuing along the exhibit’s path, visitors encounter the North American air defence fighter, the CF-100. Its successor, the supersonic Voodoo, is displayed nearby. Also featured are the CF-5, often described as a ‘cheapskate’ US hand-me-down provided to allied air forces, and the CF-104 Starfighter – a true “rocket ship” of its era (famously depicted being flown by Sam Shepard in the film adaptation of Tom Wolfe’s The Right Stuff). Finally, the exhibit leads to the current primary fighter jet, the CF-18. Sitting wingtip to wingtip with the Starfighter, the CF-18 dwarfs its predecessor, highlighting the significant increase in size and complexity over the generations. Despite being in service for forty-three years since its initial arrival, the CF-18 is, in essence, already a museum piece. To understand the historical context of these planes, one can explore [what are the generations of fighter aircraft].
A striking observation from this parade of aircraft is the origin of their designs. Almost every jet displayed was designed in the United States. The sole exception among the earliest jets was the Vampire, a British-designed aircraft. Tellingly, the only Canadian-designed military aircraft featured is the CF-100. This jet was rushed into service in 1952, with approximately 690 planes produced by A. V. Roe—more commonly known as Avro—Canada throughout the 1950s. This twin engine fighter aircraft was a workhorse for continental defence during a critical period of the Cold War.
The Avro Arrow Legacy and Lost Industrial Capacity
Avro Canada was not content to rest on the success of the CF-100. The company launched a second, even more ambitious bid to develop a world-class fighter jet: the Arrow. This project envisioned a supersonic interceptor specifically designed to counter the emerging threat of Soviet bombers. However, when the government abruptly cancelled the project in 1959, citing concerns over escalating costs and questionable utility, it effectively spelled the end for Avro Canada itself. Once Canada’s third-largest company and a renowned innovator – with concepts ranging from a flying saucer to a hovercraft truck (strikingly prescient, echoing modern ideas like those from Elon Musk!) – the company was dismantled with shocking speed. Approximately 14,000 skilled employees were laid off, and the few completed Arrow planes were tragically scrapped.
All that physically remains of the legendary Avro Arrow today are a nose cone and a wing tip, carefully preserved and housed at the very back of the museum. Their presence serves as a tangible reminder of a lost opportunity and a lingering set of “what ifs.” What if a robust domestic military aircraft industry had been sustained in Canada? What if Canadian-made innovation had continued to find a supportive environment within the country? What if an entire generation of highly skilled aircraft workers had not been effectively flushed away?
Over the years following the Arrow’s demise, while the designs were predominantly from the US, at least some of Canada’s fighter jets were built under license within Canada. This list includes iconic aircraft such as the F-86 Sabre, the CF-5, and the CF-104 Starfighter – all manufactured by Canadair. Based in Montreal, Canadair operated initially as a subsidiary of the US manufacturer General Dynamics before eventually being sold to Bombardier. The CF-104 marked Canadair’s final military aircraft production line. Today, Bombardier does not produce fighter jets.
Even Canada’s current fighter, the CF-18, was originally designed as a US Navy aircraft (noticeable in its folding wingtips, a feature intended for aircraft carrier operations which Canada does not possess). Crucially, none of these aircraft were built in Canada, further underscoring the decline in domestic production capacity.
The cumulative narrative presented by the museum’s exhibits paints a rather bleak picture. It is a story of the long-term hollowing out of Canadian military jet aircraft production capabilities and the significant attendant loss of innovation and expertise. This history raises profound questions: What if Canada could somehow reverse this trend? What if the nation could return to building its own aircraft, reminiscent of the CF-100 or the ill-fated Avro Arrow? What if Canada ceased its near-exclusive reliance on US fighter designs? What if the nation diversified its defence purchasing practices, looking once again to European-built planes, as it did decades ago with the Vampire? These are the kind of types of fighter aircraft Canada has relied on throughout its history, raising the question of future direction.
What seemed almost unimaginable just a few years ago – the idea that Canada would or could do anything other than align closely with the US defence industry and purchase its latest flagship aircraft – is now a much more real and discussed possibility.
To fully grasp this potential change in fortune and strategy, it becomes necessary to revisit some basic questions about the fundamental nature of fighter jets and their intended purpose in a nation’s defence architecture.
Defining Purpose: What Role for Canada’s New Fighter Jets?
Fighter jets share several core characteristics: they are technologically advanced platforms, specifically engineered for air warfare, typically expensive to acquire and operate, and designed for high speed. Each aircraft possesses these qualities to varying degrees, reflecting the technological capabilities and strategic thinking of its era. Perhaps the most significant variable among different fighter designs lies in their specific purpose or mission profile.
The de Havilland Vampire and the F-86 Sabre jets, for example, were primarily intended as air-to-air combat planes. This reflected the immediate strategic context following World War II, where air superiority was a primary concern. The Canadian-designed CF-100 was envisioned as a North American air defence workhorse, specifically optimized to intercept and bring down Soviet bombers threatening the continent during the early years of the Cold War. The CF-104 Starfighter, a technological marvel of its time, was designed with the primary goal of flying faster and higher than any aircraft the Soviets could produce. Interestingly, Canada adapted it for roles including low-level reconnaissance and, for a period, as a tactical nuclear bomber (though the nuclear weapons themselves were American). The current jet, the CF-18, is classified as a fighter-bomber, a versatile multi-role aircraft last deployed in combat operations briefly during the coalition fight against the ISIS caliphate in Iraq. Understanding the evolution of these roles helps contextualize the capabilities needed from new cold war fighter aircraft successors.
And what of the F-35, the subject of such sudden controversy? Its stated purpose is air dominance and the penetration of sophisticated enemy air defences. Interestingly, lingering doubts about whether its capabilities perfectly match Canada’s specific defence needs are not currently the primary drivers behind the reconsideration of its purchase. Instead, the reconsideration appears to be fundamentally political and economic. It is political in the sense of whether the Canadian military should continue to trust the United States as a near-monopoly supplier of its most critical defence assets. It is economic in terms of seeking the best “bang for the buck” and, crucially, securing meaningful industrial benefits and jobs for Canada.
However, if the rethinking process regarding the F-35 proceeds earnestly under a new government, the focus will inevitably shift back to the fundamental question of the purpose of Canada’s future fighter fleet. This is a challenging question for all Canadians, one that transcends purely financial considerations and forces the nation to confront its new defence needs in a dramatically altered global environment.
The precise future use of fighter jets in conflict is inherently unknowable. The only certainty about the future of warfare is that warfare itself has a future. As Richard Overy, a leading British historian of warfare, concludes, “There are scant grounds for thinking that a warless world is about to emerge from the current or future international order.” The past, vividly illustrated by the exhibits in the aviation museum, offers multiple examples of the war-fighting purpose for which a combat air force has been employed. What Canadians can be sure of is that a fighter jet is more than just a piece of military hardware; it is an enduring symbol of national identity, a potent expression of national interest, a clear punctuation mark about a nation’s commitment to its own security, and a declaration of its stance regarding a certain kind of world order.
Comparing the Contenders: F-35 vs. Gripen E
If this symbolic package – a symbol, a doctrine, and a commitment – is what Canada is truly acquiring with its next fighter jet purchase, how does the F-35 measure up against its re-emerged competitor, the Gripen E? The Saab marketing brochure for the Gripen certainly understands the symbolic nature of this contest, prominently featuring an image of the aircraft painted with a gigantic Canadian flag, a clear visual appeal to national pride.
Let’s conduct a basic comparison of the two primary contenders currently on Canada’s radar: the F-35 and the Gripen E. Both jets are single-engine designs capable of achieving impressive speeds – though their top speeds differ significantly – and feature advanced cockpits that immerse pilots in vast amounts of data. Both platforms are designed to carry a variety of advanced weapons systems on external hardpoints or internal bays. However, numerous factors significantly distinguish the two aircraft.
Lockheed Martin F-35 Lightning II, potential replacement for Canada's CF-18 fleet
The F-35 represents the pinnacle of current technological sophistication in Western fighter design and embodies America’s determination to lead the world in advanced aerospace manufacturing. It is a larger, more powerful, and considerably more complex aircraft than the Gripen E. A key feature is its advanced stealth capabilities, rendering it highly difficult for enemy radar to detect, a capability the Gripen fundamentally lacks. The F-35 also boasts unparalleled data integration capabilities, allowing it to act as a central node in a networked battlespace. It possesses greater war-fighting prowess, particularly its ability to penetrate heavily defended enemy airspace. Due to the massive scale of US production and procurement, the F-35 benefits from immense marketing power and a global export reach that the Gripen cannot hope to match. The F-35 has been acquired by a wide array of air forces worldwide, including the United Kingdom and many NATO partners, as well as non-aligned nations like Singapore and neutral Switzerland. In stark contrast, only a handful of countries, led by Brazil, currently operate the Gripen.
The Gripen E, on the other hand, is manufactured in Sweden, a Nordic country with a significant portion of its territory in northern climates. Consequently, the Gripen was born to operate effectively in challenging northern conditions. It was primarily conceived as a deterrent against potential aggression from Russia and is designed to operate seamlessly alongside NATO air forces. It has also been offered to Ukraine as part of Western military aid efforts. As mentioned, it lacks the cutting-edge stealth capabilities that are a defining hallmark of the F-35. The Gripen E is not designed to technologically conquer the world or defeat any air defence system it encounters. Instead, its design philosophy is centered on being highly effective, even exceptional, in an air defence and deterrence role. It is fast, capable of a top speed of Mach 2 (approximately 2,130 kilometers per hour), which is actually faster than the F-35’s top speed of Mach 1.6 (approximately 1,960 kilometers per hour). It is also lighter and highly manoeuvrable, and like the F-35, it can carry a substantial payload of weapons.
Crucially for Canada, the Gripen E is designed to be easier to operate and maintain than the F-35. It possesses the ability to land on shorter and less well-prepared runways, including civilian highways in a pinch – a feat distinctly impossible for the F-35. It also features an added fuel tank capacity, an important consideration for potential long-range Arctic defence operations. The Gripen’s biggest drawback is the limited scale of its production and its relative lack of major export markets compared to the F-35. This constraint can potentially limit the frequency and scope of in-service upgrades and impact its overall lifespan compared to a platform with a vast global user base. It does not carry the same perceived “prestige” as the top-line US fighter jet, although that prestige may be increasingly tarnished by the unpredictability of US foreign policy, particularly under a potential Trump administration.
Ultimately, the F-35 is designed to take on and defeat any adversary, a global “world beater.” The Gripen E is a European aircraft, specifically tailored for European missions, including those in the Arctic, focused squarely on air defence and deterrence roles. The fundamental question for Canada, then, becomes: which aircraft better serves as a symbol of the nation – an expression of its national interest, its commitment to security, and its stance on the international order? Is it best represented by a US-designed world-beater or by a European-designed Arctic defender?
Geopolitical Shifts and Canada’s Strategic Choice
Given the sharp “America First” turn taken by the Trump administration and the potential for its return, embracing the F-35 and affixing the Canadian maple leaf to its fuselage would likely require a difficult acceptance of potential political vulnerability. This is significantly less of a concern with the Gripen E. Both planes could potentially satisfy Canada’s core defence policy requirements, but the Gripen E undeniably holds an operational edge in its suitability for Arctic and far-north operations, a critical and increasingly important region for Canada’s sovereignty and security.
Beyond operational suitability, the signal that each aircraft sends about Canada’s commitment to the international order is distinct. The F-35 aligns Canada with the American determination to contest and overpower any rival on the global stage, with allies possessing similar planes effectively lining up in support behind the US. The Gripen E, conversely, is fundamentally about defending the peace and stability of the transatlantic security theatre and, critically, the Arctic region.
Where does Canada’s commitment truly lie in this changing global landscape? The United States, particularly under a potential isolationist stance, appears to be disconnecting itself from its traditional role as a primary champion of the global order. In response, Canada is implicitly navigating a delicate process of perhaps disconnecting its own destiny to some extent from that of the US. In this context, reconnecting more strongly with Europe and embracing a new vision of transatlantic security, shifted northward to include the Arctic, seems a strategically sound direction. Acquiring the Gripen E arguably makes more sense in this present geopolitical era.
What could truly solidify the case for the Gripen E and address some of the historical concerns about Canada’s lost industrial capacity would be a credible promise from Saab that a significant portion of the planes could be manufactured in Canada, mirroring the successful arrangement Saab has for Gripen production in Brazil.
This brings us, in the wake of the hypothetical Carney “grenade” and the resulting renewed debate, to a seemingly simple and pragmatic course of action: procure as many Gripen E aircraft as Canada can realistically afford, strategically withdraw from as much of the F-35 contract as feasible, and ensure that as much of the manufacturing and sustainment work as possible is performed within Canada. This action needs to be taken swiftly before the aging CF-18s begin to fail at an accelerating rate. And, crucially, paint the maple leaf prominently on every one of them, symbolizing a renewed commitment to a distinct Canadian defence identity and industrial future.
