In a move that could recalibrate military power dynamics across Central Asia, China has reportedly approved the sale of advanced fighter jets to Uzbekistan. Though the exact models remain unconfirmed, regional defense sources suggest the options include the JF-17 Block III, the J-10C, and potentially the stealth-capable J-35—a lineup that speaks volumes about Beijing’s growing defense outreach and Tashkent’s shifting allegiances.
The development, reported by outlets close to Uzbekistan’s Ministry of Defense in early April, follows a quiet yet steady build-up of Chinese-made air defense systems across Uzbek territory. Taken together, these moves mark a significant strategic departure from Uzbekistan’s longstanding reliance on Russian military hardware and elevate China’s profile as a credible arms supplier in a region historically dominated by Moscow.
Uzbekistan’s air force, once among the most formidable in Central Asia, has struggled with aging assets and limited modernization. Its backbone—Soviet-era aircraft like the Su-27 and MiG-29—has long been due for retirement. These jets, introduced in the 1980s, were formidable in their time: the Su-27, for instance, could reach Mach 2.35 and was built for air superiority missions; the MiG-29, lighter and more nimble, was designed for close-range dogfights. But time has taken its toll.
“Avionics, radar, and weapons systems have not kept pace with modern threats,” says a former Uzbek air force officer, now a defense analyst based in Tashkent. “Maintenance is expensive, parts are scarce, and operational readiness is declining.”
Efforts to replace these aircraft have faced hurdles. Proposals to acquire Russia’s Su-30SM or France’s Rafale faltered amid cost concerns and geopolitical complications. The Su-30SM, though capable, costs around $70 million per unit and comes with delays exacerbated by Russia’s defense industry bottlenecks. The Rafale, meanwhile, is cutting-edge but politically sensitive, especially given France’s NATO ties.
That context makes China’s offer attractive. With a reputation for speedy delivery, lower costs, and limited political baggage, Beijing is uniquely positioned to fill the vacuum left by Russia’s decline.
Among the jets reportedly on the table, the JF-17 Block III stands out as the most accessible. Developed jointly by China and Pakistan, the fighter is a single-engine, multirole platform optimized for affordability and versatility. Priced at around $30 million, it is designed for countries seeking modern capabilities without breaking the bank.
The Block III variant brings significant upgrades, including an AESA radar, improved electronic warfare capabilities, and compatibility with Chinese beyond-visual-range missiles like the PL-12. While its performance may not rival Western fourth-generation fighters across the board, it offers respectable range, agility, and weapons load for a fraction of the cost.
A step up is the J-10C, a 4.5-generation fighter built by Chengdu Aerospace Corporation. With a WS-10B engine and a design optimized for agility and long-range strikes, the J-10C is often compared to the American F-16V. It carries the PL-15 air-to-air missile, with a reported domestic range of up to 300 kilometers, although export versions are expected to be limited by international arms regulations.
Then there’s the wildcard: the J-35, China’s answer to the U.S. F-35. Although still undergoing development and testing, it was officially showcased at Airshow China 2024. Its twin-engine design, internal weapons bay, and advanced stealth features signal China’s ambition to play in the fifth-generation league.
Exporting such an advanced aircraft to Uzbekistan would be unprecedented. If confirmed, it would reflect deep confidence in Tashkent as a partner and a strategic leap for China in the international arms market.
Uzbekistan’s fighter modernization doesn’t stand alone. Over the past three years, the country has been integrating Chinese surface-to-air missile systems that form a layered shield over its key regions.
The HQ-9B, China’s long-range flagship SAM system, offers capabilities akin to Russia’s S-300, with a 200-kilometer range and the ability to track multiple aerial targets simultaneously. Complementing it is the FM-90, which defends against low-flying threats like drones and cruise missiles within a 15-kilometer radius. Bridging these two is the KS-1C, a medium-range system ideal for intercepting aircraft and tactical missiles.
Together, these systems enable Uzbekistan to cover its vital infrastructure, including the populous and economically critical Fergana Valley. More importantly, they are compatible with Chinese command-and-control networks, which could be synchronized with new aircraft acquisitions for real-time data sharing and threat response.
This military realignment is emblematic of a broader geopolitical shift. Since its independence in 1991, Uzbekistan has walked a fine line, engaging with Russia, the West, and increasingly, China. For decades, Moscow was the go-to supplier of military hardware. But the war in Ukraine has crippled Russia’s defense export capacity.
“Russia’s ability to supply modern aircraft is now compromised, both by sanctions and industrial strain,” says Artyom Lukin, a political scientist at the Far Eastern Federal University. “China is stepping into the vacuum.”
French alternatives like the Rafale come with prohibitive costs and political baggage. The U.S., while maintaining diplomatic ties with Tashkent, offers little in the way of practical military support, constrained by laws that restrict arms sales to non-allied nations.
In contrast, China’s model is rooted in transactional pragmatism. It supplies arms without demanding policy alignment. Its weapons come fast, and its financing options—including loans, credit arrangements, and barter deals—make acquisitions feasible for countries with tight budgets.
Uzbekistan’s defense budget, estimated at $800 million in 2024, limits its options. A 2023 study by the Center for Strategic and International Studies noted that transitioning to new combat aircraft typically costs small air forces between $500 million and $1 billion over a decade. This includes infrastructure, pilot training, spare parts, and munitions—not just the jets themselves.
Chinese systems mitigate some of these costs. The JF-17, for instance, has already been exported to multiple countries, including Pakistan and Myanmar, where economies of scale lower per-unit expenses. Training programs, often bundled into the sale, are conducted in China or Pakistan, reducing external reliance.
Nevertheless, the transition will not be seamless. Uzbekistan must overhaul logistics chains, adopt new munitions standards, and retrain its pilots and technicians. But the long-term payoff—greater autonomy, interoperability with Chinese systems, and reduced maintenance overhead—makes the deal compelling.
The ripple effects of this shift extend beyond Uzbekistan. Central Asia has become a testing ground for Chinese military technology. Pakistan already operates over 150 JF-17s and has begun integrating J-10Cs into its air force. A successful rollout in Uzbekistan could spark interest from Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan, which face similar modernization pressures.
Kazakhstan’s fleet includes dozens of aging MiG-29s, many of which are non-operational due to parts shortages. Turkmenistan has similarly struggled to maintain its air force, relying heavily on Soviet-era MiG-25s and Su-25s. For both countries, China’s relatively inexpensive and modular systems are increasingly attractive.
China benefits too. By fielding its systems in real-world environments, it gains valuable feedback for refinement. This is a strategy long employed by the U.S. defense sector but new for Beijing, which traditionally tested its arms in tightly controlled domestic settings.
A foothold in Uzbekistan also enhances China’s geopolitical footprint. Situated between major energy corridors and adjacent to volatile regions like Afghanistan, Uzbekistan serves as a strategic anchor. Control over its airspace—or at least close cooperation—bolsters China’s security perimeter along its western flank.
Washington, for its part, has little leverage to counter this development. Since 1992, the U.S. has provided Uzbekistan with $1.5 billion in aid, primarily for counterterrorism and economic development. But its reluctance to supply lethal arms or deepen military cooperation has left a gap China is now filling.
“China doesn’t just undercut the U.S. on price,” says Michael Kugelman, director of the South Asia Institute at the Wilson Center. “It offers faster delivery and fewer restrictions. That’s appealing to countries that want capability without conditions.”
The pivot does not necessarily threaten U.S.-Uzbek ties, but it limits Washington’s influence. And as China consolidates its presence through military and economic channels—especially under the Belt and Road Initiative—the U.S. will find it harder to project soft power in the region.
China’s arms exports are still dwarfed by the U.S. and Russia, which hold 36% and 16% of the global market, respectively. But Beijing’s share has grown to 6%, with inroads in Africa, Southeast Asia, and now, Central Asia.
What distinguishes China isn’t just cost—it’s the combination of affordability, speed, and independence from Western or Russian politics. For countries like Uzbekistan, these factors outweigh prestige or legacy ties.
Should the J-35 be part of the final deal, it would mark the first known export of China’s fifth-generation platform—a landmark moment that could challenge the F-35’s monopoly in the stealth export market. For now, the J-35 is untested abroad. But its inclusion in Uzbekistan’s potential procurement plan suggests Beijing is ready to bet big.
Whether this partnership succeeds depends on execution. Can Uzbekistan adapt to the demands of operating an entirely new ecosystem of aircraft and air defenses? Will China meet delivery and performance expectations?
The answers lie in the coming years. But one thing is clear: the era of Russian dominance in Central Asia’s arms market is fading, and a new player is taking center stage. For China, this is more than a sale—it’s a showcase. For Uzbekistan, it’s a gamble on the future. And for the region, it’s a sign that the balance of power is beginning to shift—not through war, but through wings.
