The sale of fighter jets is guided by much more than technical criteria. Military alliances, political influence, and economic interests all play a role in shaping these mega-contracts. How do industrial lobbying and state diplomacy influence aircraft choices in France, the United States, Russia, and China?
Diplomacy at the heart of fighter jet sales
The acquisition of a modern fighter jet is never a simple purchase: it marks the beginning of a strategic relationship lasting several decades with the supplier country. Buying a fighter jet involves 30 years or more of cooperation on pilot training, aircraft maintenance, and weapons upgrades. Only a few countries produce these high-tech aircraft, and each sees their exports as a tool of geopolitical influence. Selling a fighter jet also means selling an alliance. Ambassadors and defense attachés are therefore actively involved in promoting their countries’ aircraft to foreign governments. They know that no state will deliver such weapons without a strong political convergence. A French diplomat summed it up as follows: “When we sell fighter jets to a country, we are confident that our relationship will last for 25 years.”
This diplomatic dimension is reflected in the geography of sales. The United States gives priority to equipping its allies (e.g., NATO countries in Europe or Asian partners such as Japan and South Korea). Conversely, it refuses to sell to hostile or unreliable governments. Russia traditionally supplies aircraft to its close partners and to countries to which the West refuses to sell. The sale of arms sends a clear political message: fighter jets are not exported to countries with which there is no minimum level of trust. These contracts are therefore signals of alliance or influence. For example, until 2014, France had agreed to sell Mistral helicopter carriers to Russia, a gesture of strategic rapprochement at the time. Similarly, Israel’s supply of a few drones and missiles to certain Asian and African countries has often served to normalize diplomatic relations.
For the buyer, choosing a foreign fighter jet also means accepting the seller’s technical supervision. Using American, Russian, or French aircraft means adopting their standards: compatible weapons, common training, and spare parts that depend on the supplier. This creates de facto dependence and often loyalty over time. Conversely, buying from a new supplier can signal a strategic reorientation. Thus, when a country broke with Washington, it turned to Moscow for its fighter jets (and vice versa), symbolizing a change of geopolitical allegiance. This was the case with Egypt, which during the Cold War operated Soviet and then American aircraft in line with its alliances. Even today, choosing a fighter jet is a choice of partner. This is why intense lobbying, economic promises and diplomatic pressure systematically surround these mega-contracts. Every combat aircraft manufacturer—and the government that supports it—deploys a strategy of influence to convince decision-makers in the customer country, sometimes even behind the scenes in presidential palaces.
The United States: leadership backed by lobbying
As the world’s leading arms exporter, the United States largely dominates the combat aircraft market. Its share has reached around 40% of global sales in recent years, driven by the success of aircraft such as the F-16 and then the F-35. Washington considers the export of its fighter jets to be a pillar of its foreign policy. On the one hand, it strengthens military interoperability with its allies; on the other, it ensures the survival of its defense industry. The US government does not hesitate to mobilize its diplomatic network to support its manufacturers. In many countries, the US ambassador publicly praises the merits of American aircraft and exerts private pressure to influence the host government’s choice. For example, during the competition to replace Belgium’s F-16s, the US ambassador made numerous interventions in favor of the F-35, emphasizing its performance and synergies with NATO forces. This game of political and industrial influence paid off: Belgium, like the Netherlands, Poland, Norway, and Denmark, ended up ordering Lockheed Martin’s stealth fighter. Today, no fewer than 14 NATO countries plan to operate the F-35, a record for a recent combat aircraft. Washington is using this standardization argument to convince other hesitant allies, emphasizing that joining the “F-35 club” facilitates joint operations and access to shared technological updates.
Beyond strategic rhetoric, the US also knows how to attract customers with industrial compensation. Historically, the famous F-16 contract of the 1970s was secured by offering smaller NATO countries (Belgium, the Netherlands, Denmark, and Norway) local production under license for hundreds of aircraft. Belgium, for example, was able to assemble around 200 F-16s and develop a whole network of aerospace companies around this program, creating thousands of skilled jobs. Similarly, the F-35 program involved eight partner countries in its development from the outset, guaranteeing them industrial spin-offs (parts manufacturing, regional maintenance) and encouraging them to purchase the aircraft later on. This economic lobbying—promising investment and jobs in exchange for a purchase—is an essential weapon for American manufacturers. Lockheed Martin and Boeing use it systematically, whether to sell fighter jets in Europe, Asia, or the Middle East. The US authorities support these efforts, often including offset offers (local subcontracting, minor technology transfers) in government agreements.
Geopolitical considerations also play a role. Washington sometimes links its arms sales to broader diplomatic issues. A striking example is the promise to sell F-35s to the United Arab Emirates after the signing of the Abraham Accords: this historic rapprochement with Israel paved the way, under the Trump administration, for Abu Dhabi to acquire the American stealth fighter jet. Conversely, the United States knows how to use the leverage of sanctions to dissuade its partners from buying elsewhere. The CAATSA law, passed in 2017, provides for sanctions against countries that acquire Russian military equipment. It has cooled several of Moscow’s potential customers, such as Turkey and Indonesia, making them think twice. Ankara, for purchasing Russian S-400 missiles, was excluded from the F-35 program and deprived of the 100 aircraft it was expecting to receive: a very clear signal to other countries. Similarly, India, despite its close ties with Russia, has come under strong US pressure over its purchases of Russian equipment, to the point of diversifying its suppliers. This carrot and stick diplomacy has become commonplace: on the one hand, privileged access to US technology for good students; on the other, the threat of strategic losses for those who stray from the Western line.
Thanks to these methods, the US has locked up a large part of the global market. The Middle East remains a particular preserve: Saudi Arabia, the US’s largest arms customer, has been lining up fleets of F-15s and F-16s for decades and may eventually acquire the F-35. Japan, South Korea, and Australia have all opted for US fighter jets in order to benefit from the US security umbrella against China and North Korea. Even in Europe, where there is talk of “strategic autonomy,” the facts show a growing dependence: more than 60% of European arms imports have come from the United States over the past five years. European countries have collectively ordered nearly 500 American fighter jets for 2020-2024, proof that the US industry is more essential than ever on the Old Continent. Changing this dynamic would require enormous political and financial investment on Europe’s part – a difficult effort to sustain, given the urgent needs and the immediate availability of US supply. In short, US lobbying relies on an effective three-pronged approach: perceived technological superiority, an active diplomatic network, and industrial advantages for its partners. This combination maintains US hegemony in fighter jet sales, to the detriment of its competitors.
France: strategic partnerships and commercial influence
Faced with the American juggernaut, France has chosen to play its own card in the fighter jet market, with the Rafale as its flagship product. After struggling for a long time to export this fighter jet, Paris redoubled its diplomatic efforts in the 2010s and is now reaping the rewards. France has even become the world’s second largest arms exporter in the world in recent years (around 10% of the total), overtaking Russia. This success is due to a deliberate strategy of commercial diplomacy at the highest level of government. In short, every trip by the French president or defense minister to a potential customer country is turned into a promotional campaign for the Rafale. The contracts signed in recent years reflect this personal involvement: theThe purchase of 24 Rafale jets by Egypt in 2015 was concluded after direct negotiations between Cairo and the Élysée Palace, while the sale to India (36 Rafale jets in 2016) involved the Indian Prime Minister and the French Minister of Defense in high-level talks. The aircraft manufacturer Dassault is never alone in approaching a major customer: the French government systematically supports it through its diplomats, military personnel (joint exercise demonstrations) and officials.
Paris puts forward a political argument that appeals to many countries: buying French guarantees great freedom of use of the aircraft and relative independence from the major powers. Unlike the United States, France does not impose strict constraints on the use of weapons sold, apart from compliance with UN embargoes. It has no equivalent to the US ITAR regulations, which can block the transfer of technology or US-made missiles if Washington objects. Furthermore, France’s diplomatic position—as a member of NATO but often critical of US unilateralism—reassures certain countries seeking to diversify their alliances. Thus, after 2011, Egypt turned to France to modernize its army: After Hosni Mubarak was ousted, the US froze certain deliveries to the Egyptian army, prompting Cairo to seek an alternative “non-aligned” partner **. .” The gamble paid off for both sides: Egypt became the Rafale’s biggest customer, receiving a total of 54 aircraft, and Paris consolidated its influence in the Arab world without coming into direct conflict with US interests.
The argument of strategic sovereignty is also often used by French salespeople: customers are assured that by purchasing the Rafale, they avoid total dependence on Washington or Moscow. This rhetoric appeals to medium-sized powers that want to maintain room for maneuver. In the Middle East, several states have taken advantage of this “third way.” The United Arab Emirates, for example, has for years operated a mixed fleet of American (F-16) and French (Mirage 2000). They took a further step in 2021: disappointed by the uncertainties surrounding the F-35 and confident in their relationship with Paris, the UAE ordered 80 Rafale F4s for around $15 billion. This is the largest export contract ever won by the French defense industry. Long-term political trust played a key role in this deal. Abu Dhabi had deep ties with Paris (military cooperation, a French naval base on site, cultural projects such as the Louvre Abu Dhabi). The Emiratis also appreciated the stability of France’s commitment, which is less prone to change than that of Washington, where every change of president can alter export authorizations. By choosing the Rafale, they know they can use it freely and obtain future upgrades to the aircraft without external veto. This is a privileged bilateral commitment, symbolized by regular joint exercises and the presence of French military advisers in the region.
The economic aspect is not neglected in France’s strategy. Aware that Western aircraft are expensive, France strives to offer industrial compensation tailored to the customer’s needs. The Rafale can be delivered with contributions from local industry: assembly of certain parts on site, maintenance by a joint venture in the purchasing country, and even the transfer of technical know-how. With India, Dassault Aviation has committed to investing 50% of the contract amount in India itself (in the form of local purchases, training, etc.). This type of offset weighed heavily in India’s decision, as did the promise of longer-term cooperation on engines and drones. In addition, Paris has no qualms about including financing through state loans in its offer, enabling countries with limited cash resources to acquire aircraft. The recent sale of 42 Rafales to Indonesia is a good example: Jakarta, whose defense budget is modest in relation to the cost, will benefit from a payment schedule and undoubtedly from French financial facilities. These arrangements reinforce the Rafale’s attractiveness compared to the cash-only payments sometimes demanded by the Americans.
Finally, operational demonstration has consolidated the credibility of the French aircraft, which is a considerable boost to diplomatic efforts. The Rafale has been deployed by the French army in numerous theaters (Afghanistan, Libya, the Sahel, Syria) and has proven its reliability in extreme conditions. Better still, it has operated alongside American aircraft in coalition: during the strikes in Syria in 2018, only American F-22 stealth fighters and French Rafales were considered capable of penetrating dangerous airspace guarded by Russian S-400 missiles, while other allies had to remain in the background. This type of episode, widely commented on by potential customers, dispelled doubts about the Rafale’s capabilities and showed that France has a first-rate air force. In addition, Paris has used its air force as a showcase for exports: distant deployments (the “Pégase” mission to Asia-Pacific) and participation in prestigious international exercises (Red Flag in the United States) have showcased the Rafale alongside allied aircraft, proving its interoperability. Finally, each Rafale sale comes with a long-term military partnership: training of the customer’s pilots and mechanics in France, regular exchanges, supply of ammunition, and the possibility of joint training. Thus, beyond the purely commercial aspect, Paris ensures that exporting a fighter jet strengthens its diplomatic influence over the long term. The contract with Greece in 2020 is a case in point: France quickly sold a few second-hand Rafales from its air force to Athens to help it deal with tensions with Turkey, showing that it was prepared to support a European partner—a strong political gesture as much as a sales agreement.
Russia: selling fighter jets to maintain its influence
With a long tradition of exporting Soviet weapons, Russia has long been the world’s second-largest supplier of combat aircraft. Its Sukhoi and Mig jets have flown under the flags of dozens of countries in Asia, Africa, and the Middle East. Moscow saw these sales as a way of maintaining a major geopolitical role even after the Cold War. Supplying fighter jets to a friendly country ensures its long-term loyalty, as it will depend on Russian technical support. India, for example, received hundreds of Soviet and then Russian aircraft over a period of more than 50 years, cementing a privileged strategic partnership between New Delhi and Moscow. Similarly, countries such as Algeria, Vietnam, Syria, and Angola have largely equipped their air forces with MiG-29s, Su-27s and Su-30s, strengthening Russia’s military influence in the tropics and the Middle East. Russia’s advantage was that its weapons were often less expensive than their Western equivalents and sold with few political conditions. The Kremlin prided itself on being a reliable supplier that did not “preach morality”: no embargoes over human rights, no interference in how the aircraft would be used—a striking difference from Washington. This diplomatic flexibility made Russian fighter jets attractive to governments isolated on the international stage. For example, in the 2000s, Hugo Chavez’s Venezuela, which was at odds with the US, turned to Moscow to buy 24 brand new Su-30s, thus circumventing the US refusal to supply spare parts for its aging F-16s.
However, Russia’s influence through arms has suffered severe setbacks recently. The conflict in Ukraine, which began in 2022, has not only mobilized the Russian military industry for domestic needs, but also dealt a blow to the reputation of its aircraft. The mixed performance of Russian fighters against the Ukrainian defense, which is largely equipped with Western systems, has sown doubt among some buyers. Above all, international sanctions are severely disrupting exports: banking transactions are banned, there are logistical difficulties in delivering parts, and customers fear exposing themselves to Washington’s wrath (via the CAATSA law mentioned above). As a result, several contracts with Moscow have been frozen or canceled. Indonesia, which was negotiating the purchase of 11 Su-35s, finally gave up under US pressure and switched to the French Rafale and the American F-15. Malaysia, which was once interested in the Mig-35, opted for light fighters designed in Korea and Italy. Even India, a long-standing customer, has slowed down its orders: New Delhi has abandoned plans to purchase the fifth-generation Su-57 and is now looking to Western aircraft (additional Rafales and American stealth fighters under consideration) to modernize its fleet. **Russia’s decline is spectacular: its share of global arms exports has fallen below 8%, down from over 20% just a few years ago. Its export revenues have halved between 2016-2021 and 2022-2023. In 2023, France took over Russia’s position as the world’s second-largest exporter, a shift that would have been unimaginable just ten years ago.
Moscow is trying to compensate for this loss of momentum by falling back on markets where there is no Western competition. Iran, under Western embargo, is in talks to receive Russian Su-35s; Burma, ruled by an isolated junta, has ordered several MiG-29s and JF-17s (the latter being a Chinese-Pakistani model co-developed with China). In Africa, Russia is banking on flexible offers and rapid deliveries of used or slightly modernized aircraft, coupled with security cooperation agreements (presence of advisers, Wagner Group mercenaries, etc.). Algeria, a major customer for decades, continues to equip itself with Sukhoi and Mig aircraft, albeit more cautiously: Algiers is reportedly seeking to diversify its acquisitions so as not to be exclusively dependent on Moscow. There are even rumors that the prospect of a future opening to Western aircraft (such as the F-35) is prompting Algeria not to commit too early to the purchase of the Russian Su-57. The case of Turkey served as a warning: a member of NATO, Ankara had raised the possibility of purchasing Russian fighter jets after being excluded from the F-35 program, but faced with diplomatic consequences and internal reluctance, it changed its mind and is now focusing its efforts on a domestic fighter jet. This shows that the attractiveness of Russian aviation has weakened when an alternative exists.
Furthermore, Russia is seeing the emergence of an unexpected competitor in some of its traditional markets: China. Beijing was once a customer (licensed Sukhoi aircraft), but has now become a rival offering its own aircraft to the same countries keen on cheap equipment without political strings attached. For example, Pakistan, a long-time ally of China, now buys Chinese JF-17s and J-10s rather than Russian MiG-29s. Sino-Russian competition is also emerging in Africa and Central Asia, where Chinese light fighters could outmaneuver older Russian aircraft. This situation complicates Moscow’s future in the fighter market: pressured by the West on one side and hot on the heels of Beijing on the other, Russia may struggle to regain its position. Its only assets remain its experience and a few cutting-edge areas (high-performance air-to-air missiles, for example), as well as the willingness of certain countries not to put all their eggs in the Western or Chinese basket. But in the medium term, much will depend on the outcome of the war in Ukraine and Russia’s ability to restore confidence in its industry. If its army shows weakness, who will want to buy Russian aircraft? Already, images of helicopters and Sukhoi jets being shot down or crashing are fueling negative perceptions. Clearly, diplomacy through aircraft sales, once the Kremlin’s trump card, is in crisis. Moscow will have to redouble its efforts, perhaps slashing prices or offering exceptional deals, to retain its last customers and prevent its influence from waning even further.
China: an ambitious new player in the military aviation market
Until recently, China was absent from the club of high-end fighter jet sellers. But in just a decade, Beijing has aggressively set out to conquer this strategic market. With a constantly improving aviation industry backed by comprehensive political and economic offers, the Chinese regime is using the sale of combat aircraft as an extension of its New Silk Road initiative. Every new economic partnership China forges around the world now has a military component. This has been seen in Africa (sales of armed drones and training jets), the Middle East (missiles and drones to second-line allies) and increasingly in Asia and Latin America. Beijing intends to compete with Russia and the West in the fighter jet arena to cement its status as a major power.
Its sales pitch directly challenges the American and Russian models: China promises modern aircraft at reduced cost, without political conditions or restrictions on use. This means that a country purchasing Chinese fighter jets will not have to fear an embargo on ammunition or remote deactivation of software in the event of a diplomatic row. Beijing is positioning itself as a “neutral” supplier that does not interfere in internal affairs. This approach appeals to countries seeking to diversify their acquisitions to escape Western pressure. A case in point comes from Latin America: Colombia, a traditional ally of Washington, recently joined China’s Silk Road strategy. Following this, during a visit by President Gustavo Petro to Beijing in late 2023, China proposed a defense agreement including the sale of 24 J-10CE fighter jets to Bogota. Officially, these aircraft would be sold as part of a “strategic partnership” and not as a simple commercial transaction, almost like a “gift” to seal the new agreement. Above all, Beijing guarantees Colombia no restrictions on the use of these J-10s, no risk of externally imposed shortages of spare parts, and no interference in their operational deployment. This discourse of non-interference in military matters contrasts sharply with US policies, which are often perceived as intrusive. For Bogota, which is still hesitant, the offer is tempting because it would allow it to show its independence from the US while strengthening its air capabilities. If it goes ahead, this deal would mark a turning point: seeing a South American country equipped with Chinese fighter jets would signal Beijing’s entry into an area historically reserved for US influence.
China is also relying on aggressive communication campaigns to promote its aircraft. On social media and through certain diplomats, it does not hesitate to denigrate competing aircraft in order to promote its own. For example, after the revelation that an Indian Rafale had crashed or was allegedly shot down in Kashmir, Chinese propaganda was quick to proclaim the superiority of its jets over the French flagship. Accounts linked to the Chinese military posted infographics comparing performance and relayed false information—such as a doctored video showing a J-20 performing an impossible vertical takeoff—to impress the public and sow doubt about Western technology. The goal is clear: to promote the image of a cutting-edge Chinese aerospace industry, at least equivalent to, if not superior to, that of Europe or Russia, and to present its aircraft as the choice of the future for emerging countries. However, Beijing knows that most of the United States’ allies will remain closed to it; which is why it is targeting customers outside the Western orbit or those wishing to break free from it. In South Asia, Pakistan has become a veritable testing ground for Chinese fighter jets: Islamabad co-developed the JF-17 Thunder with Beijing, a lightweight and inexpensive aircraft that now equips its air force. More recently, Pakistan acquired 25 J-10CEs (the export version of the Chinese J-10) to counter the threat posed by India’s Rafale jets. These Pakistani J-10s were proudly displayed during a military parade, a sign that China is now supplying mid-range aircraft capable of holding their own against Western aircraft in the region.
Other countries have followed suit: Myanmar has taken delivery of a few JF-17s to modernize its fleet, as has Nigeria. Even Gulf states are beginning to show interest in China’s offer: in 2022, the United Arab Emirates ordered a batch of Wing Loong drones and small Chinese L-15 training aircraft, diversifying their sources of weaponry despite their main partnership with the West. Chinese promotion is often accompanied by favorable financial terms: payment facilities, low-interest Chinese loans, and even partial barter with natural resources. For example, it is suspected that some Chinese arms deliveries to Africa have been paid for through mining or oil concessions granted to Beijing. This comprehensive approach—infrastructure development, economic investment, and parallel arms sales—allows China to establish a strong foothold in countries that would have been militarily inaccessible 20 years ago.
Technically, Chinese fighter jets are catching up. The J-20 is now operational in China, although Beijing is keeping it for its own use for the time being. However, there is a plan to export a stealth fighter (often referred to as the J-35 or FC-31), explicitly intended for foreign partners. If this exportable fifth-generation fighter sees the light of day, it could compete with the F-35 in certain non-Western markets by the end of the decade. In the meantime, China mainly sells upgraded 4th generation aircraft, comparable to the American F-16V or the Russian Mig-35, with the advantage of low prices and no political restrictions. Of course, Beijing must overcome mistrust regarding the quality of its equipment (which has not been tested in combat against a modern adversary) and the reluctance of some armies to change their doctrine to adopt Chinese equipment. But its progress is undeniable. In 2021-2022, China was already among the four largest arms exporters. Its market share remains modest (around 5%), but is growing rapidly. Every contract won against a Western or Russian competitor is highlighted as a strategic victory.
By playing the diplomacy card (gaining alliances through the unconditional delivery of arms) and lobbying (propaganda, demonstrations at international air shows, etc.), China is positioning itself as a serious challenger for the future. It is telling that some Western analysts are beginning to fear a “Chinese offensive” in arms sales, which could lead to an erosion of US influence in certain regions. The case of Colombia mentioned above is being closely monitored in Washington. Similarly, in Southeast Asia, Beijing is courting countries such as Malaysia and Bangladesh, which for the moment are still buying European or Russian equipment. Chinese success there would tip the regional balance. In the long term, Chinese lobbying and diplomacy could redraw the map of military alliances, just as Soviet military aid did during the Cold War. This explains why fighter jet contracts go far beyond the economic dimension: they are political acts, choices about global orientation. Every Rafale sold, every F-35 delivered, and every J-10 exported reflects a balance of power and influence.
War Wings Daily is an independant magazine.