Canada’s Fighter Jet Dilemma Tests the Limits of America’s Defense Grip

For more than four decades, Canada’s choice of fighter jet was almost automatic. Ottawa bought American aircraft, trained alongside U.S. pilots and embedded its air force ever deeper into Washington’s strategic orbit. That assumption is now under strain. In a move that has startled defense officials in Washington and sent shock waves through the global arms market, Canada is openly reconsidering its commitment to the F-35, the flagship stealth fighter of the United States and the cornerstone of NATO air power.

At first glance, the dispute looks like a familiar procurement drama: cost overruns, delivery delays and political second-guessing. But beneath the surface, analysts say, Canada’s review of the F-35 is about something far larger — sovereignty, control and the shifting balance of power in the Arctic.

A Deal That Looked Settled

In January 2023, after more than a decade of debate, Canada formally selected the F-35A, built by Lockheed Martin, to replace its aging CF-18 fleet. The decision promised 88 aircraft at a price tag of roughly 19 billion Canadian dollars. Lockheed Martin hailed the deal as a vote of confidence in the jet’s future, while Pentagon officials quietly celebrated the preservation of North American air defense uniformity.

Then the numbers began to unravel.

In early 2024, Canada’s auditor general released a report that landed like a thunderclap in Ottawa. The true acquisition cost, the report said, had ballooned to 27.7 billion Canadian dollars — a 46 percent increase. Aircraft deliveries were running an average of 238 days late, and the F-35’s global mission-ready rate hovered around 36 percent, according to publicly available Pentagon data. Critics seized on the findings as proof that Canada had locked itself into an expensive, rigid system over which it had limited control.

The political climate soon made the issue explosive.

Politics, Tariffs and a Shift in Mood

Donald Trump’s re-election in November 2024 hardened attitudes in Ottawa. Mr. Trump renewed threats of sweeping tariffs on Canadian exports and repeatedly joked that Canada should become America’s “51st state,” comments that played well with his base but infuriated Canadian voters across the political spectrum.

Mark Carney, the former central banker and opposition leader widely seen as a future prime minister, publicly argued that Canada needed to reduce its dependence on the United States — not just economically, but militarily. Lawmakers demanded reviews of major defense commitments, with the F-35 at the top of the list.

In March 2025, the government announced it would re-examine the entire fighter jet deal. What had once seemed unthinkable became reality: Canada was reopening the competition.

Almost immediately, Sweden’s Saab resurfaced with its Gripen E, a jet Canada had passed over in 2021. For Washington, the message was unmistakable. This was not a routine procurement tweak. It was a challenge to American dominance.

Control, Not Just Capability

To understand the Pentagon’s alarm, analysts say, one must look beyond performance specifications.

“The F-35 is not just an airplane,” said Winslow Wheeler, a longtime defense analyst and former congressional staff member, in interviews circulated widely on U.S. defense podcasts and social media. “It’s an ecosystem of control.”

Every F-35 relies on Lockheed Martin-managed software, data links and logistics systems. Key maintenance, upgrades and mission data flow through American-controlled networks. For smaller allies, that dependence is often the price of admission to fifth-generation warfare. For Canada, critics argue, it has become a constraint.

Saab’s pitch strikes directly at that vulnerability. The company has publicly promised full software source-code access, domestic maintenance autonomy and freedom to integrate weapons without U.S. approval — an offer Lockheed Martin does not match.

The NORAD Question

Then there is NORAD, the North American Aerospace Defense Command, the binational shield that has guarded the continent since the Cold War. NORAD’s strength has always rested on seamless integration. The F-35 was designed to fit perfectly into U.S.-led networks of satellites, radar and fighter jets.

A mixed fleet, Pentagon officials warn privately, would complicate training, logistics and command-and-control. Gripen uses NATO standards but does not natively integrate into the F-35’s most advanced data-sharing architecture. For Washington, that raises uncomfortable questions about unity — and authority — in continental defense.

But even NORAD is not the heart of the dispute.

The Arctic Factor

The real fault line, analysts say, runs through the Arctic.

Canada controls roughly 40 percent of the Arctic coastline, a region warming faster than anywhere else on Earth. As ice retreats, new shipping routes are emerging, along with access to vast reserves of oil, gas and critical minerals. Russia has poured resources into Arctic bases, air defenses and nuclear icebreakers. China, branding itself a “near-Arctic state,” is expanding its polar ambitions.

For the United States, the Arctic is not just a frontier; it is a strategic early-warning zone against long-range missiles. Under the F-35 model, Canadian patrols would feed directly into American systems, giving the Pentagon comprehensive situational awareness.

A Swedish jet changes that equation. Saab’s Gripen ecosystem includes its own radar, electronic warfare and battle-management systems. Intelligence collected by Canadian aircraft would not flow exclusively to Washington, but also to Stockholm. To U.S. strategists accustomed to uncontested leadership, that prospect is deeply unsettling.

Jobs, Money and Global Signals

The economic stakes are enormous. Canceling most of the remaining F-35 order could cost Lockheed Martin more than $14 billion in direct sales. Canadian firms currently tied into the F-35 supply chain — around 110 companies, according to industry data — could lose billions in long-term contracts.

Saab is offering a radically different model: full production in Canada, partnership with Bombardier and the creation of an estimated 10,000 to 12,600 aerospace jobs. Canada would become a global Gripen hub, potentially exporting to Ukraine and other NATO countries.

Perhaps most worrying for Washington is the precedent. Fifteen NATO members currently fly the F-35. If Canada, America’s closest ally and a NORAD partner, walks away, it sends a powerful signal. Other countries weighing alternatives — from Spain to Greece to Poland — may feel emboldened to say no.

A Choice About Sovereignty

Supporters of the Gripen argue that it is cheaper to operate, better suited to Arctic conditions and easier to maintain from short, remote runways. Critics counter that it lacks stealth and the future-proofing of a fifth-generation platform.

But the debate, increasingly, is not about stealth versus range. It is about control versus dependence.

“This is not just an aircraft decision,” wrote one former Pentagon official on X, echoing a sentiment spreading across U.S. defense circles. “It’s about whether America still sets the rules — or starts negotiating them.”

For Canada, the choice is existential in a quieter way. After 40 years of alignment, Ottawa must decide whether the price of integration has become too high. Whatever the outcome, the era when such decisions passed unnoticed in Washington is over.