In March 2025, just weeks into his second presidency, US President Donald Trump handed Boeing the most consequential military aviation contract of the decade: the engineering and manufacturing development deal for the crewed sixth-generation fighter under the US Air Force’s Next-Generation Air Dominance (NGAD) program. The aircraft, now officially designated the F-47, is envisioned as the centerpiece of America’s future air superiority strategy, intended to replace the F-22 Raptor and dominate contested airspace.
Valued at more than US$20 billion for development alone, the award marked a stunning victory for Boeing, which beat out longtime stealth heavyweight Lockheed Martin. For the Chicago-based aerospace giant, the decision represented not just a major program win, but what many analysts described as an existential lifeline after one of the darkest periods in the company’s modern history.
Boeing entered 2025 reeling from a catastrophic 2024. Regulators subjected its commercial aircraft division to intense scrutiny following a series of high-profile safety failures. Whistleblowers accused the company of ignoring safety regulations, while Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) audits revealed troubling evidence of cost-cutting practices and falsified inspection records. A two-month strike by company workers disrupted production, and Boeing hemorrhaged nearly US$1 billion per month in losses.
Against this backdrop, winning the NGAD contract was not merely a boost—it was a strategic reprieve. Boeing’s defense business had increasingly become the company’s stabilizing pillar, yet even there, problems abounded. Programs such as the KC-46 Pegasus tanker and the new Air Force One aircraft suffered from repeated delays, technical flaws, and cost overruns.
The F-47 win promised something Boeing had lacked for decades: a flagship, future-defining combat aircraft program that could anchor its military aviation business for a generation.
The NGAD competition carried unusually high stakes. Boeing’s rivals, Lockheed Martin and Northrop Grumman, already dominate long-term US military aviation programs. Lockheed’s F-35 Lightning II—born from the Joint Strike Fighter (JSF) competition—will remain in service for decades, while Northrop’s B-21 Raider stealth bomber ensures the company a central role in US strategic aviation well into the 2050s.
Boeing, by contrast, has watched its legacy fighter programs age out. The F-15 Eagle and F/A-18 Super Hornet—still formidable aircraft—are approaching the twilight of their production lives. Without a next-generation replacement, Boeing faced the prospect of slowly fading from the elite tier of combat aircraft designers.
Having already lost the Advanced Tactical Fighter (ATF) competition that produced the F-22 Raptor, the JSF contest that yielded the F-35, and the bomber competition that went to Northrop, NGAD was widely seen as Boeing’s last realistic chance to reassert itself as a prime fighter designer.
Announcing the F-47, Trump declared that the aircraft would be “the most capable combat aircraft ever envisioned,” adding that “nothing in the world comes even close to it.” The president framed the program as a decisive leap that would ensure American air dominance against near-peer rivals, particularly China.
Beijing, however, reacted with thinly veiled derision. Wang Ya’nan, chief editor of the Beijing-based Aerospace Knowledge magazine, told the state-run Global Times that Boeing had not won a major fighter jet program in decades. “Having a company like this to lead a sixth-generation program is actually very risky,” he said.
Given the accelerating US-China rivalry to field a sixth-generation fighter first, Chinese skepticism was unsurprising. Yet criticism of Boeing’s selection did not come only from abroad.
Several former US fighter pilots—figures with deep operational and technical credibility—have openly questioned whether Boeing is the right company to deliver such a high-stakes platform.
C.W. Lemoine, known as “Mover,” a former US Air Force F-16 pilot and popular aviation commentator, reacted skeptically in a video following the announcement. He pointed to Boeing’s troubled execution on multiple recent programs, warning that similar issues could plague the F-47.
“Boeing has had problems with pretty much everything except for the F-15EX,” Lemoine said. “The T-7 has had a host of problems. KC-46 has had a host of problems.”
Lemoine questioned whether Boeing could successfully manage a clean-sheet sixth-generation fighter without falling into familiar traps of delays, redesigns, and spiraling costs.
T.K. Hartsock, known as “Gonky,” a former Navy F/A-18 and US Air Force instructor pilot, raised concerns about the lack of concrete information surrounding the F-47’s actual capabilities. He suggested that Boeing might struggle with integrating advanced technologies on an aggressive timeline.
Similarly, Hasard Lee, a former F-35 and F-16 pilot and author, expressed doubt about Boeing’s ability to deliver on the F-47’s sweeping ambitions. While the aircraft is expected to exceed the F-22 in maneuverability, match or surpass F-35-level sensor fusion, and feature superior stealth and infrared signature management, Lee cautioned that “it remains to be seen how Boeing will achieve these goals.”
One of the most frequently cited concerns is Boeing’s lack of experience in designing a fighter jet from scratch. In fact, Boeing has not produced a start-to-finish jet fighter program in nearly eighty years.
While Boeing currently builds the F-15 Eagle and F/A-18 Super Hornet, neither aircraft originated within Boeing itself.
The F-15 was conceived and designed by McDonnell Douglas, which won the competition in the late 1960s. The first prototype flew in 1972, and the aircraft became one of the most successful air-superiority fighters in history. Boeing inherited the program only after its 1997 merger with McDonnell Douglas, later introducing modernized variants such as the F-15EX.
The F/A-18 Hornet shares a similar lineage. Developed from Northrop’s YF-17 and engineered jointly by McDonnell Douglas and Northrop in the 1970s, the Hornet entered service in 1983. Boeing assumed control post-merger and deserves credit for the Super Hornet’s redesign, advanced AESA radar, and improved survivability—but the aircraft’s core DNA predates Boeing ownership.
Even the B-1 Lancer bomber underscores the pattern. Originally designed by North American Rockwell, the B-1 became part of Boeing’s portfolio only after Boeing acquired Rockwell’s aerospace business in the mid-1990s.
This history highlights a structural vulnerability: Boeing’s fighter and bomber expertise largely stems from acquisitions, not organic, clean-sheet innovation.
When Boeing has attempted to develop military aircraft from scratch in recent years, the results have been mixed at best.
The KC-46 Pegasus tanker, derived from the 767 but heavily modified, has been plagued by remote vision system flaws, quality issues, and billions in cost overruns that Boeing absorbed under a fixed-price contract.
The T-7A Red Hawk trainer—intended to be a showcase of digital engineering—has faced repeated schedule delays and technical hurdles, undermining confidence in Boeing’s ability to rapidly deliver complex new platforms.
Critics argue that if Boeing has struggled with tankers and trainers, the leap to a stealthy, sixth-generation air-dominance fighter is enormous.
Another major concern is Boeing’s limited pedigree in operational stealth aircraft, especially when compared to its rivals.
Lockheed Martin’s Skunk Works has delivered a lineage that includes the F-117 Nighthawk, F-22 Raptor, and F-35 Lightning II. Northrop Grumman, meanwhile, has mastered flying-wing stealth bombers with the B-2 Spirit and B-21 Raider.
Boeing’s stealth experience is far thinner. The company built the Bird of Prey, a 1990s stealth demonstrator that pioneered innovations such as gapless control surfaces and shielded engine intakes. It also competed in the JSF program with the X-32, a stealth-capable prototype that ultimately lost to Lockheed’s X-35.
Yet Boeing has never fielded a fully operational, mass-produced stealth fighter. For a platform expected to achieve “stealth++” performance—beyond the F-22 and F-35—that gap is significant.
For the United States, the F-47 is not just another aircraft. It sits at the core of the Next-Generation Air Dominance concept, which envisions a family of systems combining a crewed fighter, uncrewed collaborative combat aircraft, advanced sensors, and networked weapons.
The platform must counter increasingly capable Chinese and Russian air defenses, stealth fighters, and long-range missiles. Failure would have profound implications for US air superiority over the next 30 to 40 years.
Some critics warn that choosing Boeing risks repeating historical missteps—such as the troubled F-104 Starfighter or the overly ambitious, problem-plagued F-111 Aardvark—where bold visions collided with engineering and management realities.
Ultimately, the F-47 contract represents a massive gamble. For Boeing, it is a chance at redemption, a pathway to reclaiming its status as a premier combat aircraft designer. For the US Air Force, it is a calculated risk that Boeing’s digital design tools, deep industrial base, and fresh approach can overcome its recent failings.
Whether the F-47 becomes the world’s most dominant fighter—or a cautionary tale of overreach—will define not only Boeing’s future, but the trajectory of American airpower itself.
