Canada is once again at a crossroads in its defense planning. Despite having signed a $19 billion contract in 2023 for 88 F-35A Lightning II fighter jets, talks with Swedish manufacturer Saab regarding the JAS 39 Gripen have quietly resumed. First reported on April 6 by Swedish business daily Dagens Industri, Saab’s CEO Micael Johansson confirmed that the company is actively negotiating with Canada and Portugal while expressing confidence in a pending multi-billion-dollar deal with Colombia.
The news has added a layer of intrigue to Canada’s military posture and raised serious questions about its long-term defense priorities, especially in light of strained trade ties with the United States, emerging security threats in the Arctic, and the challenge of maintaining industrial sovereignty in an increasingly unpredictable geopolitical climate.
Canada’s recommitment to exploring the Gripen option might appear contradictory given the finalized F-35 purchase. But the context reveals a more complex calculus.
Canada’s current geopolitical reality is shifting. Tensions with the United States—historically its most significant defense and trade partner—have escalated in recent years, fueled by tariff threats, political unpredictability, and divergent views on global engagement. These frictions have prompted Ottawa to reassess its near-total reliance on American military systems.
The Gripen offers a potentially strategic alternative. While not as technologically advanced as the F-35, the Gripen E represents a capable, cost-effective platform designed for resilience and autonomy—qualities increasingly valued by nations looking to avoid over-dependence on a single supplier.
For Canada, the Gripen’s appeal lies in several key areas: operational flexibility, Arctic suitability, lower cost per flight hour, and the potential for domestic industrial involvement.
Canada’s Arctic is not just cold—it’s becoming contested. Russia’s military buildup in the region, including new bases, long-range radar systems, and hypersonic missile deployments, has been matched by increased interest from China. Beijing’s “scientific missions” and shipping route projections in the Northwest Passage are raising strategic red flags in Ottawa.
The F-35, designed for operations with extensive ground infrastructure, presents limitations in such an environment. The Gripen, by contrast, was developed in Sweden—a nation with similar harsh, remote conditions—and excels in operating from short or improvised runways, even icy roads.
With minimal logistical requirements, the Gripen could serve as a more nimble tool for Arctic patrols and sovereignty missions, complementing the F-35’s strengths in strategic strike and joint operations.
Originally introduced in the late 1980s, the JAS 39 Gripen has evolved into one of the most versatile fourth-generation multirole fighters. The latest E and F variants boast considerable upgrades, including a powerful General Electric F414 engine, modern avionics, and sophisticated radar and electronic warfare systems.
With a top speed of Mach 2 and a combat radius of about 500 miles, the Gripen can carry a full suite of munitions: the long-range Meteor air-to-air missile, the AIM-120 AMRAAM, precision-guided bombs like the GBU-39, and anti-ship weapons such as the RBS15. Its active electronically scanned array (AESA) radar, the Leonardo Raven ES-05, and passive IRST tracking allow it to engage targets without giving away its position.
But one of the most compelling aspects for budget-conscious militaries is cost. Saab claims the Gripen’s flight hour costs hover around $7,500—less than a quarter of the F-35’s estimated $33,000. Lifecycle costs for Gripen, including maintenance, logistics, and training, are likewise far lower, an important factor for Canada’s long-term budget planning.
The F-35, a fifth-generation stealth aircraft, is the gold standard for advanced air combat. With unparalleled sensor fusion, data sharing capabilities, and stealth features, it integrates seamlessly with U.S. and NATO systems. For NORAD operations, where Canada partners with the United States to protect North American airspace, the F-35’s capabilities are a major asset.
But those capabilities come at a price—not just financially, but strategically.
Canada’s entire F-35 fleet depends on American supply chains, parts logistics, and software updates. If political tides shift in Washington, or if trade disputes worsen, Ottawa could find itself vulnerable to operational disruptions. That’s the central concern: can Canada truly maintain independent military capabilities if its frontline jets are tethered to another country’s industrial and political infrastructure?
That’s where the Gripen’s appeal as a “strategic insurance policy” begins to make sense.
Another key difference is Saab’s willingness to bring more than just aircraft. The Swedish company has pledged to build Gripens in Canada and establish long-term industrial partnerships, potentially including firms like CAE and IMP Aerospace. In previous proposals, Saab committed to setting up aerospace centers in Montreal focused on mission systems and R&D.
Such investment could create thousands of high-skilled jobs and inject new life into Canada’s aerospace industry. While the F-35 program has already delivered an estimated $1.3 billion in contracts to Canadian firms, critics argue that domestic benefits are limited by Lockheed Martin’s control and lack of full production involvement.
Saab’s offer could strengthen Canada’s defense industrial base and provide greater economic returns—not just in jobs, but in technology transfer and innovation.
But switching horses mid-race could prove politically risky. Cancelling or scaling down the F-35 deal could anger both Lockheed Martin and Washington. As CBC News noted, “cancelling the F-35 purchase threatens to hurt Canada more than the U.S.,” since Lockheed can easily redirect aircraft to other buyers, while Canada may struggle to recover lost goodwill or economic opportunities.
There’s another wrinkle: despite being Swedish, the Gripen contains American-made components, notably the F414 engine produced by GE. Under U.S. export control laws, Washington has the power to block or delay any foreign sale that includes significant U.S. technology.
Defense analyst Martin Shadwick has warned that this could give the U.S. leverage to prevent a Gripen deal outright or condition it heavily—ironically limiting the very autonomy Canada seeks.
So, even if Ottawa wanted to pivot fully to the Gripen, it might still need Washington’s blessing. That introduces a paradox: a move toward independence that depends on foreign approval.
Faced with this web of constraints and competing priorities, some analysts suggest Canada could adopt a dual-fleet approach: accept the first tranche of 16 F-35s—already funded and in production—while supplementing the broader fleet with a second fighter type like the Gripen for Arctic missions, training, or NORAD support.
This would mirror approaches taken by countries like South Korea and Finland, which operate mixed fleets to balance high-end capabilities with affordability and resilience.
However, running two different platforms introduces logistical complexity. Training, maintenance, parts, and software systems would all need to be tailored for two aircraft types, increasing overhead and potentially limiting interoperability. Politically, it may also be hard to justify to voters and allies alike.
Yet, the upside could be strategic redundancy—a hedge against future uncertainty and a practical tool for different mission profiles.
Canada is not alone in confronting this dilemma. Germany’s decision to purchase F-35s alongside its Eurofighters, Switzerland’s controversial selection of the F-35 over European options, and Finland’s evaluation of interoperability versus independence all reflect a broader debate within NATO: how much sovereignty are allies willing to trade for capability and integration?
Brazil’s 2014 Gripen deal offers another reference point. Saab beat Boeing and Dassault by offering not just aircraft, but local assembly and full technology transfer. Brazil is now producing its own Gripens and training domestic engineers and pilots—an outcome Canada might find appealing.
But Brazil is not a NORAD partner with high-stakes shared airspace responsibilities.
Canada’s fighter procurement history is fraught. The current CF-18 Hornets, aging and increasingly costly to maintain, have served since the early 1980s. Replacement plans began in the 1990s but stalled due to political turnover and controversy.
The initial sole-source F-35 plan under Prime Minister Stephen Harper was scrapped amid cost overruns and public opposition. Justin Trudeau’s government reopened the competition but still ended up selecting the F-35 in 2022. Now, the Gripen is back in the conversation—proof that for Canada, fighter acquisition is never just about aircraft. It’s about identity, autonomy, and alliances.
So, where does this leave Canada?
Saab’s negotiations, though unofficial, are clearly being taken seriously. Defense Minister Bill Blair’s comments in March 2025 that Ottawa is “actively looking at potential alternatives” confirm that the door remains open—at least slightly.
In practice, the outcome may not be a full reversal, but a recalibration. Canada could proceed with F-35 deliveries while exploring Saab’s offer as leverage, contingency, or a complementary option. The mere act of talking to Saab signals to the U.S. that Ottawa is no longer willing to be taken for granted.
Ultimately, the Gripen negotiations are about more than fighters. They symbolize a nation grappling with its place in an evolving world: a middle power caught between economic pragmatism, strategic imperatives, and alliance politics.
Can Canada afford to rely so heavily on the U.S., whose political landscape remains volatile? Can it absorb the financial and operational demands of the F-35 while maintaining sovereignty over its defense policy? And can it use defense procurement as a tool for economic renewal, not just military capability?
These are the questions gripping Ottawa’s defense planners and political leadership. The Gripen may not replace the F-35, but it represents something larger—a vision of Canada charting its own course in a world where certainty is in short supply.
