By John Q. Hosedrinker 
Despite widespread acknowledgment of its likely failure, the Future Combat Air System (FCAS) program, a collaborative effort among three nations to develop a sixth-generation fighter jet, drones, and a combat cloud, remains officially in limbo. The program, personally championed by French President Macron in 2017, has been stalled for nearly a year due to industrial disputes, raising significant political stakes for the French leader. While French officials publicly maintain a desire for the project’s success, insiders suggest this is a political maneuver to avoid the damaging implications of its collapse.
Read the original article here
It seems the much-hyped Franco-German Future Combat Air System (FCAS), particularly its cornerstone, the Next Generation Fighter (NGF), is teetering on the brink of collapse, if it hasn’t already hit the ground. Frankly, this isn’t a surprising development, given the historical track record of these two European heavyweights struggling to align on defense procurement for what feels like ages. The whispers of its demise have been circulating for a while now, suggesting the project has been “dead” for at least a year.
One perspective is that the whole endeavor was deeply tied to President Macron’s vision, and his inability to publicly admit a setback has led to a prolonged period of postponement. It’s almost as if they’re clinging to the hope of keeping the project alive for another year, perhaps until his term concludes, before the inevitable happens. This raises the question of what comes next. Will the nations simply pivot to acquiring more F-35s?
The roots of this issue seem to lie in fundamental disagreements. Was Germany’s refusal to fully fund a plane that needed to be carrier-capable, built in France, and meet exclusively French requirements the central sticking point? It’s a shame, really, because there’s a certain appeal to European nations developing competing, yet capable, defense systems that could each flourish independently.
This situation brings to mind Macron’s ambition for Europe to “act like a world power.” But how can a continent aspire to global power status when it struggles to even collaborate on developing a next-generation fighter jet? It truly exemplifies the inherent difficulties in forging a unified entity out of diverse national interests within the EU.
Looking ahead, one can’t help but speculate about a scenario where, in about a year, both France and Germany might find themselves looking to join the UK’s Tempest program. France, being France, would likely balk at simply handing over control, and Germany, perhaps finding the UK’s pace too slow, might also withdraw. The likely outcome? A widespread ordering of more F-35s. It’s disheartening to consider the sheer amount of money that has likely been wasted before acknowledging the fundamental unsustainability of this project.
A significant contributing factor to the project’s woes appears to be France’s rather assertive stance. The suggestion that France, by demanding an 80% work share, might have alienated Germany is certainly plausible. This entire FCAS endeavor has, for many, become a stark illustration of the seemingly insurmountable challenges in getting the EU to function as a cohesive entity or a global superpower. The goal was to build a single, universally adopted EU fighter jet that would necessitate compromises, but it was likely never destined to succeed. Perhaps France should focus on partnering with Spain, rather than expending energy trying to steer Germany.
The core of the conflict can be traced back to the initial agreement, launched in 2017, which was based on the “Best Athlete principle.” This meant that Dassault Aviation was designated as the clear leader for the Next Generation Fighter (NGF) because of France’s unique expertise in developing modern fighter jets independently. The initial contract recognized this technical hierarchy as essential for the project’s success.
However, Germany’s demands began to shift the landscape. They started seeking full access to Dassault’s proprietary technologies, framing it as a move towards equal cooperation. France, on the other hand, perceived this as a violation of the original agreement, viewing Germany’s pursuit of sensitive intellectual property, which Dassault had spent decades developing, as an attempt to essentially use the joint project as a shortcut for its own industrial advancement.
The power balance was further disrupted when Germany pushed for Spain’s inclusion. This maneuver effectively diluted French influence. By aligning with Spain through Airbus Defence and Space, Germany helped shift the work-share arrangement from a proposed 50/50 split to a more fragmented 33/33/33. This placed France in a minority position, where Germany and Spain could frequently coalesce against France on critical industrial decisions, despite France being the designated technical lead.
This divergence in national interests has now created a significant deadlock. France’s primary objective is to develop a carrier-capable, export-oriented aircraft to safeguard its strategic autonomy. Conversely, Germany’s industry and unions, such as IG Metall, are advocating for a heavier system and seeking export veto rights. This departure from the more flexible 2017 framework has resulted in what many observers now label a “functional deadlock,” with both nations reportedly preparing contingency plans in the event of the partnership’s official dissolution.
The French approach is often characterized by a certain nationalistic pride, and it’s possible this self-assuredness, if not outright stubbornness, is a significant impediment. There’s a sentiment that if France wasn’t so adamant about its own way, they might have simply opted to join the UK-led Tempest program.
The differing requirements are a major hurdle. France’s insistence on carrier capability, a feature Germany doesn’t need, adds significant complexity and weight, potentially compromising overall performance. It might have been more pragmatic to develop two distinct aircraft rather than attempting a single, compromised solution that could end up as convoluted as the F-35.
The core of the problem, from one perspective, is that Germany likely desired a truly multinational aircraft, while France may have envisioned Germany subsidizing a predominantly French-developed jet. Dassault’s desire for greater control over the NGF’s development, a key component of FCAS, further underscores this dynamic.
This breakdown in collaboration raises questions about defense independence from the US. The failure to achieve this goal means that nations might once again find themselves reliant on American defense capabilities, a narrative that seems to be playing out repeatedly. The argument is made that when the US is willing to deploy its own advanced assets, the need for individual European nations to develop their own next-generation fighters becomes less pressing.
The cost and funding of such ambitious research and development projects are also a crucial consideration, with questions about whether taxpayers are bearing the brunt of these endeavors. Furthermore, the evolving landscape of warfare suggests that manned fighter jets might become increasingly obsolete, with drone technology rapidly advancing.
The notion of Europe forging its own path away from US technology has, in practice, been hampered by an inability to agree on fundamental aspects of development. For the EU to truly compete with global powers like the US and China, it needs to move towards a more unified approach, prioritizing collective good over individual national interests, and France, in particular, is called out for this.
The perceived inability of France and Germany to agree on defense matters has unfortunately made them a subject of international ridicule. This is particularly concerning given the ongoing conflict in Ukraine, where perceived inaction, cowardice, and incompetence on the part of these nations could have dire consequences.
It paints a picture of strategic isolation for both nations, as they seemingly alienate former allies and seek new partnerships, only to find themselves increasingly alone. The argument is made that investing in drones might be a more prudent path forward, as they offer maneuverability and reduce the risk of pilot loss.
The existence of the mature, affordable, and continually upgrading F-35 also presents a significant challenge to new, expensive projects like FCAS. Spending billions to catch up to a platform that is already well-established and globally supported seems like a questionable allocation of resources.
Moreover, the concept of a piloted air superiority fighter is rapidly becoming outdated with the swift advancements in drone and artificial intelligence technology. The cost-effectiveness of spending astronomical sums on manned aircraft when cheaper, stealthier drones are on the horizon is being seriously questioned.
The issue of agreement extends beyond political leaders to the industrial players involved. Dassault, as a company, possesses a long-term perspective that can outlast government administrations. This stability is crucial for lengthy defense programs, ensuring continuity that is often lacking in the fluctuating political agendas of individual ministries.
The historical context of Franco-German defense collaboration is fraught with difficulty, with disagreements dating back centuries. While they have successfully collaborated on projects like Airbus, past fighter jet initiatives, such as the Eurofighter and Tornado, saw France opt out due to disagreements, highlighting a recurring pattern of difficulty in finding common ground.
In this instance, Germany’s willingness to compromise, even to the point of considering a platform that might not be ideal for their own needs, still wasn’t enough to bridge the gap with France. It appears Germany had already conceded significant ground.
The Eurofighter project, while contentious, might have been more successful in securing long-term customers, leading to a perceived stagnation in innovation as it became more of a jobs program. In contrast, the Rafale has seen continuous upgrades, maintaining its competitive edge. However, both manned fighter jets are increasingly seen as nearing obsolescence, with advanced drone technology poised to dominate future warfare. The impact of drones on naval warfare, as seen in recent conflicts, further calls into question the substantial investment in traditional fighter jets.