In the frozen expanse of Canada’s Arctic frontier, where temperatures plunge to minus 50 degrees Celsius and Russian bombers test sovereign airspace with unnerving regularity, a seismic shift is underway in one of the most consequential defense decisions in modern Canadian history.

Prime Minister Mark Carney, the former Bank of England governor turned political leader who rode to power on promises to assert greater independence amid escalating trade frictions with the United States, has thrust Ottawa into the center of an international military-industrial storm. What began as a routine review of Canada’s $27.7 billion commitment to purchase 88 American-made F-35 Lightning II stealth fighters has erupted into a full-blown crisis, with classified assessments revealing stark vulnerabilities in the F-35’s performance under extreme northern conditions — and positioning Sweden’s Saab Gripen E as a surprisingly formidable alternative.

The drama unfolded with startling speed. Shortly after assuming office, Mr. Carney directed Defense Minister Bill Blair to scrutinize the long-standing F-35 contract, originally sealed under previous administrations as part of NATO interoperability goals. The move came against a backdrop of heightened U.S.-Canada tensions, including tariffs imposed by President Donald Trump and public rhetoric questioning bilateral alliances. Industry Minister Mélanie Joly has since traveled to Washington, pressing Lockheed Martin executives for expanded job commitments and industrial offsets — demands that underscore Ottawa’s frustration with the economic returns from the deal. Yet the real bombshell arrived through leaked and classified evaluations focused squarely on Arctic operations, the very theater where Canada’s security is most vulnerable.

These assessments, drawing from rigorous simulations of real-world scenarios including long-range intercepts, repeated airspace violations, and sustained patrols in blizzards and magnetic interference, painted a grim picture for the F-35. In the harsh Arctic environment — devoid of heated runways, dense supply chains, and extensive infrastructure — the aircraft achieved only 42 percent mission success rates. Preparation times stretched to hours for a single sortie, with flight-hour costs hovering around $44,000 and combat readiness dipping below 50 percent in extreme cold. The jet, engineered for penetrating contested airspace in temperate zones with robust logistics, struggled against the north’s unforgiving realities: blizzards grounding operations, environmental factors degrading sensors, and the sheer distance rendering rapid response impossible.

By contrast, Sweden’s Gripen E — a lighter, more agile fighter designed explicitly for dispersed operations in harsh winters — delivered astonishing results. Achieving 87 percent mission completion in the same simulations, the Gripen demonstrated the ability to launch from 800-meter frozen highways with minimal ground support, refuel and rearm in under 10 minutes with just five personnel, and operate reliably at minus 40 degrees without specialized modifications. Its flight-hour cost, at roughly $7,800, allows for far greater patrol frequency and training hours, potentially delivering up to 15 times more airborne presence on the same budget. Saab’s pitch emphasizes endurance over elegance: a jet built to survive when bases are destroyed and supply lines severed, perfectly aligned with the dispersed, austere demands of Arctic defense.

The implications ripple far beyond procurement spreadsheets. Russia’s militarization of the Arctic — 54 bases, S-400 systems, nuclear icebreakers, and over 200 fighters including cold-weather MiG-31s — has intensified patrols and provocations along Canada’s northern frontier. Rapid interception within 15 minutes is essential to shadow intruders and assert sovereignty, yet the F-35’s delays render many responses academic. The Gripen’s quick scramble capability, lower logistical footprint, and resilience in degraded conditions offer a compelling counter, potentially allowing Canada to maintain visible, consistent presence that deters rather than reacts.

Washington has watched with growing alarm. Lockheed Martin and Pentagon officials have offered no public rebuttal to the Arctic-specific data, though broader evaluations from 2021 competitions — where the F-35 scored overwhelmingly higher in overall capabilities — continue to circulate as counterarguments. Critics in Ottawa argue those metrics overlook the unique northern theater, where stealth and sensor fusion yield to practicality and availability. The debate has exposed fractures in NATO’s assumption of uniform platforms, raising questions about whether one-size-fits-all solutions can address diverse geographic realities.

For Mr. Carney, the stakes are existential: balancing alliance commitments with national sovereignty, economic leverage against Washington, and credible deterrence in an increasingly contested Arctic. As pressure mounts from domestic calls to pivot toward European partners promising local production and jobs, the prime minister’s administration appears poised to redefine Canada’s defense posture. Whether this marks the unraveling of a flagship U.S. program or a pragmatic recalibration remains uncertain, but the Arctic’s silent vastness has suddenly become the loudest stage in transatlantic security drama.