In a development that could recalibrate defense alignments in Latin America, the Swedish government has formally requested parliamentary approval to enter into a government-to-government agreement with Peru for the sale of up to 12 Saab JAS 39 Gripen E/F multirole fighter jets. The deal, embedded in Sweden’s spring 2025 budget proposal, includes associated air defense systems and could pave the way for further sales as Peru moves to modernize its aging air force.
This is more than just a fighter jet sale. It’s a window into how global defense partnerships are shifting, how mid-sized powers like Sweden are asserting influence, and how countries like Peru are trying to balance national security with strategic independence—all in the shadow of U.S. dominance in the hemisphere.
The Peruvian Air Force (Fuerza Aérea del Perú) is at a crossroads. With Soviet-era MiG-29s acquired in the 1990s and French Mirage 2000s in service since the 1980s, much of the fleet is nearing obsolescence. These jets are becoming increasingly expensive to maintain, with spare parts harder to source due to sanctions, global supply disruptions, and changing vendor priorities.
In October 2024, Peru’s Defense Minister Walter Enrique Astudillo Chávez announced plans to acquire 24 multirole fighters, starting with a first phase of 12. This announcement was backed by a proposed $2 billion loan—7.58 billion soles—from the state-owned Banco de la Nación, signaling that Lima is not just floating ideas but putting real financial weight behind them.
Sweden’s offer centers on the Gripen E/F—a modern iteration of a proven design. Manufactured by Saab, the jet features a delta wing and canard configuration, offering excellent maneuverability. A single General Electric F414-GE-39E engine propels it to Mach 2 speeds, while a combat radius of over 800 nautical miles ensures mission versatility over Peru’s diverse geography—from coastal zones to Andean highlands and the Amazon jungle.
Armed with Meteor and IRIS-T air-to-air missiles, precision-guided bombs, and a 27mm Mauser cannon, the Gripen E/F is built for multirole operations. Its sensor suite includes an Active Electronically Scanned Array (AESA) radar and an infrared search-and-track system, critical for both air superiority and ground attack missions.
But its unique value lies in its adaptability and low operating cost. Designed for dispersed operations from highways and short runways—key in Sweden’s Cold War doctrine—the Gripen requires minimal infrastructure. For Peru, with remote airfields and rugged terrain, this makes operational sense. Maintenance, too, is streamlined: Saab claims the Gripen’s cost-per-flight-hour is significantly lower than Western rivals like the F-35 or Rafale.
Peru’s search for new jets comes as neighboring countries ramp up military modernization. Chile operates U.S. and Dutch-supplied F-16s. Brazil has embraced the Gripen through a $4.5 billion deal signed in 2014, including local production by Embraer. And most recently, Colombia selected the Gripen to replace its aging Kfir fleet, a move publicly confirmed by President Gustavo Petro just this month.
The trend is unmistakable: a gradual regional pivot toward the Gripen platform. For Peru, joining this Gripen “club” could bring logistical synergies, shared training opportunities, and even regional security cooperation frameworks.
But it also reflects shifting power balances. As U.S. and Russian influence in Latin America encounter new limitations, European players—particularly Sweden—are stepping into the vacuum.
Historically, Peru’s air force has drawn from diverse sources: Soviet jets to balance against U.S.-aligned Chile, and French fighters to diversify further. This pragmatism has continued into the present, with Lima evaluating the Gripen alongside Lockheed Martin’s F-16V Block 70 and Dassault’s Rafale F4.
Each competitor has its strengths. The F-16V is combat-proven with strong U.S. support and logistical infrastructure. The Rafale excels in networked warfare and heavy payload missions. But both come with downsides. The Rafale is expensive, and the F-16 is viewed—rightly or wrongly—as tying a buyer closer to U.S. political influence.
Sweden, on the other hand, presents itself as geopolitically neutral. Not part of NATO and traditionally non-aligned, its arms exports are not seen as tools of coercive diplomacy. This may appeal to Peru, which has long sought to retain autonomy in foreign affairs.
Washington is likely watching Sweden’s move into Peru with more than casual interest. For decades, the U.S. has been the primary arms supplier to Latin America. But that grip is loosening.
Earlier in 2025, reports emerged that the U.S. blocked a Gripen sale to Colombia by refusing export clearance for the F414 engine—ironically, a U.S.-made component. The Pentagon has not commented officially, but the message was clear: the U.S. can still exert control over components even in deals not directly involving American firms.
For now, no such interference has occurred in Peru’s case. But the risk remains, and Saab knows it. The question is whether the political cost of blocking another Latin American sale outweighs the strategic benefit of maintaining dominance.
To counter Sweden’s bid, the U.S. could offer F-16s with favorable financing or additional training packages. But Sweden’s edge in technology transfer and industrial cooperation, demonstrated in Brazil and now promised to Peru, may be hard to beat.
One of Sweden’s key selling points is its willingness to invest locally. Saab’s partnership with Brazil included a local production line, extensive training for Brazilian engineers, and long-term maintenance capabilities.
Peru wants a similar deal. The Gripen sale would not just equip the air force but could also serve as a springboard for building Peru’s defense industry, creating high-skilled jobs and reducing future reliance on foreign suppliers.
If Sweden offers local assembly, tech transfer, and training packages, the Gripen could become more than a jet—it could be the nucleus of a long-term defense relationship.
South America is often overlooked in global military discussions, but regional rivalries still simmer beneath the surface. Chile and Peru have long had tense ties, including disputes over maritime boundaries. While diplomacy has improved, military parity remains a political priority.
If Peru fields a fleet of 24 advanced Gripen jets, it could tilt the air power balance, prompting Chile to seek upgrades or additional purchases. Ecuador, too, might follow suit—its air force flies aging aircraft and could use Peru’s decision as a benchmark for its own modernization.
This is the quiet arms race of the Andes: not overt, but strategic. Procurement decisions are as much about diplomacy as they are about defense.
Despite the strategic logic behind Sweden’s offer, the path ahead is uncertain. Peru’s loan request still needs parliamentary approval. Domestic opposition could question the timing or scale of the purchase, especially if economic pressures mount.
In Sweden, parliamentary approval is also required, and past debates over arms exports to countries with internal instability could resurface. While Peru is not considered a high-risk customer, left-leaning parties in Sweden may object on ethical grounds.
Additionally, delays could push Peru toward another vendor. Lockheed Martin and Dassault are aggressively marketing their jets and may offer expedited delivery or enhanced financing to sway decision-makers.
What’s unfolding in Peru is a microcosm of larger shifts. As Russia’s ability to export arms fades post-Ukraine, and as the U.S. grows more cautious in how it uses military aid and sales as diplomatic tools, smaller nations like Sweden are stepping into the breach.
For Saab, every Gripen sale is not just revenue but validation. After losing out on high-profile contracts in Finland, Switzerland, and Canada, Saab is repositioning itself as a “smart” supplier for countries that need high performance at a reasonable cost—without the political strings attached to U.S. or Chinese systems.
If Peru chooses the Gripen, it would mark a significant shift—not just militarily, but diplomatically. It would signal that Lima is pursuing autonomy in defense policy, turning to Europe for technology and training, rather than relying solely on U.S. or Russian platforms.
It would also affirm Sweden’s emergence as a global defense actor, one that uses industrial cooperation and adaptability to outcompete larger powers in niche markets.
For the U.S., it’s a wake-up call. Its hold over Latin America’s defense markets is no longer a given. And for Peru, the final decision isn’t just about buying a jet. It’s about choosing a future of greater capability, greater independence—and, potentially, greater responsibility.
