In a move that has raised eyebrows across Asia’s defence community, Indonesia has openly declared its interest in joining Türkiye’s KAAN fifth-generation fighter jet program, casting a shadow over its existing commitment to South Korea’s KF-21 Boramae project. The announcement, made by President Prabowo Subianto during a recent high-level visit to Ankara, has sparked intense debate about Jakarta’s long-term strategic intentions and its ability—or willingness—to honor prior defence-industrial commitments.
While President Prabowo described the potential KAAN collaboration as part of a broader strategic partnership with Türkiye—including joint submarine development—his statement was notably devoid of specifics. No technical roadmap, funding pledges, or implementation details were offered. Still, the optics of the declaration were clear: Jakarta is pivoting toward Ankara, and the timing couldn’t be more sensitive.
Indonesia’s defence establishment has long grappled with balancing modernization goals against fiscal and political realities. Its partnership with South Korea on the KF-21 Boramae project was seen as a landmark move when announced in 2015. The plan was bold: co-develop a 4.5-generation multirole fighter that would serve as a stepping stone toward full next-gen capabilities. Jakarta agreed to shoulder 20 percent of the US$6.67 billion development cost—roughly US$1.3 billion.
But that commitment has steadily eroded. As of early 2025, Indonesia had paid just US$629 million of its agreed share, citing domestic budget pressures. South Korean officials, while diplomatic, have expressed growing frustration. KAI (Korea Aerospace Industries), the prime contractor, continues to move ahead with the program, but Jakarta’s spotty payments and unclear future participation have cast a long shadow.
Now, with President Prabowo openly exploring parallel opportunities with Türkiye, Seoul has cause for concern.
Türkiye’s KAAN fighter program was born of necessity. After being expelled from the U.S.-led F-35 Joint Strike Fighter program in 2019 due to Ankara’s acquisition of Russia’s S-400 air defense system, Türkiye accelerated its ambitions for a homegrown fifth-generation fighter. The TF-X initiative, renamed KAAN, is now the crown jewel of Turkish Aerospace Industries (TAI).
KAAN completed its maiden flight in February 2024, reaching 8,000 feet and a cruising speed of 230 knots. That successful flight, though limited in scope, marked a significant milestone for Ankara’s defence-industrial aspirations. It signaled not only technical capability but also political resolve. TAI is pushing forward with plans to produce two aircraft per month by 2029 and anticipates initial operational capability by 2028, with over 100 aircraft delivered to the Turkish Air Force by 2032.
Unlike the KF-21, which is primarily a 4.5-generation platform with limited stealth characteristics, the KAAN is designed from the ground up as a fifth-generation aircraft. It will feature internal weapons bays, reduced radar cross-section, advanced avionics, and AI-assisted mission management—placing it in the same conceptual category as the F-35 and the Chinese J-20.
For Indonesia, the appeal of KAAN lies not only in technological leapfrogging but also in Türkiye’s willingness to include strategic partners in early-stage development. TAI has already invited Malaysia to participate and is actively seeking industrial allies in regions where Western defence partnerships come with political strings.
For Indonesia, the allure of the KAAN may be rooted in more than technology. Türkiye’s willingness to work without the geopolitical conditionality typically imposed by Western suppliers provides an alternative model for nations that want advanced capabilities without compromising strategic autonomy.
But this creates a credibility problem for Jakarta. Its defence-industrial reputation is already strained due to its faltering commitment to the KF-21. Walking away from a program it helped launch—especially one where it was billed as a co-developer—could harm its standing among future partners.
Defence analysts warn that Indonesia risks being perceived as an unreliable collaborator. “This isn’t just about planes,” said a senior analyst at a Seoul-based think tank. “It’s about trust. Defence-industrial programs require long-term commitment, and Indonesia is sending mixed signals.”
Jakarta’s interest in KAAN may not necessarily signal abandonment of the KF-21. Some observers suggest that Indonesia is hedging its bets—participating in both programs to maximize options. But that approach carries its own risks. Funding two next-generation fighter programs is an enormous burden, especially for a nation that has struggled to finance even one.
There’s also the question of strategic alignment. The KF-21 is being developed in close coordination with the United States and is designed to integrate with NATO-style infrastructure. Türkiye, on the other hand, is pursuing an increasingly non-aligned defence posture, driven by its souring ties with the West and its aspiration to become a self-sufficient military power.
Jakarta’s decision to align more closely with Ankara could thus signal a broader geopolitical shift. President Prabowo has been vocal about Indonesia’s need for defence diversification and regional autonomy. Türkiye offers a model of assertive, independent military modernization—something that may resonate with Jakarta’s own ambitions.
Beyond fighter jets, President Prabowo also expressed interest in Türkiye’s submarine development initiative—the MILDEN (Milli Denizaltı or National Submarine) project. The MILDEN boats are a leap forward from Türkiye’s current Reis-class submarines and are designed to be entirely indigenous, with advanced weaponry and Air Independent Propulsion (AIP) systems.
Construction is scheduled to begin in 2025 at the Gölcük Naval Shipyard, a hub of Turkish naval engineering. The MILDEN submarines will be larger, more heavily armed, and equipped with locally developed cruise missiles like the GEZGIN, offering land-attack capabilities with a reported range of 1,000 kilometers.
For Indonesia, whose naval doctrine focuses heavily on archipelagic defence and sea control, the submarine component of Türkiye’s offer may be just as appealing as the KAAN fighter. Joint development of submarines would enhance Jakarta’s maritime strike capabilities and deepen its defence ties with Ankara.
If realized, this would mark Indonesia’s most significant defence-industrial collaboration outside of East Asia—and another step toward diversifying its military suppliers.
Indonesia’s dual flirtation with South Korea and Türkiye reflects a broader trend in Southeast Asian defence policy: diversification. As tensions grow in the South China Sea and U.S.-China competition escalates, regional powers are increasingly wary of depending too heavily on one supplier or alliance system.
Malaysia has shown similar interest in Türkiye’s defence offerings, and the Philippines has been exploring deals with both Korean and Turkish manufacturers. Vietnam, traditionally a Russian arms customer, is also looking to broaden its portfolio.
Türkiye is capitalizing on this opportunity. With advanced systems like KAAN, MILDEN, the HURKUS trainer, and the HURJET light attack aircraft, Ankara is positioning itself as a third-way supplier: technologically competitive, politically flexible, and culturally resonant with many Muslim-majority nations.
For Türkiye, Indonesia’s interest represents both a validation and a challenge. While welcoming foreign partners offers financial and industrial benefits, it also risks entangling the project in complex regional dynamics. Indonesia’s inconsistent history with KF-21 payments may give Turkish planners pause. The last thing TAI needs is another unreliable partner as it attempts to establish KAAN as a global brand.
For South Korea, the situation is more delicate. Seoul has invested years of political and industrial capital into the KF-21. Losing Indonesia’s partnership would be a blow—not just financially, but symbolically. It would underscore the limitations of Korea’s soft power in defence diplomacy and highlight the fragility of partnerships built on uncertain footing.
And for Indonesia, this could be a defining moment. If it manages to navigate both partnerships successfully, it could emerge as a versatile defence player with access to two major fighter platforms and valuable industrial expertise. But if it fumbles either—or both—Jakarta risks being viewed as an unreliable partner, locked out of future deals with key players in the global arms market.
Indonesia’s interest in Türkiye’s KAAN fighter jet and submarine programs represents more than a shift in procurement priorities—it’s a reflection of the fluid, multipolar landscape shaping global defence partnerships today.
Whether this marks a true strategic pivot or a hedging maneuver remains to be seen. But the stakes are high. The decisions made in Jakarta over the next few years could define not only the country’s air and naval capabilities but also its international credibility as a defence-industrial partner.
For now, all eyes are on Indonesia. Will it continue to honor its commitments to the KF-21 program? Will it make a serious financial and technical investment in Türkiye’s KAAN and MILDEN platforms? Or will it stretch itself too thin, chasing parallel ambitions without the resources or focus to see them through?
