Canada’s decision to stick with the F-35 Joint Strike Fighter program, despite the looming shadow of Donald Trump’s combative rhetoric and trade threats, has sparked a fair bit of chatter among analysts and armchair strategists alike.
Belgium buys 196 RTX GBU-53/B bombs, puts them in F-35 belly
Photo credit: Raytheon
With Trump back in the White House as of January 2025, his recent musings about slapping 25% tariffs on Canadian imports—set to kick in on April 2 unless Ottawa bends on issues like fentanyl trafficking—have only turned up the heat.
Add to that his offhand remarks about Canada becoming the “51st state” or facing economic retribution, and you’ve got a recipe for some serious hand-wringing north of the border. A handful of voices, mostly on the fringes, have even floated the idea that Canada should ditch its $19 billion deal for 88 F-35s from Lockheed Martin as a kind of geopolitical middle finger to Washington.
Trump: "We don't need Canada's lumber. So what I'm doing is I'll be signing an executive order freeing up our forests so that we're allowed to take down trees and make a lot of money and then re-harvest trees … we don't need anything from Canada." pic.twitter.com/IgUVc7oK9K
— Aaron Rupar (@atrupar) March 6, 2025
It’s a bold notion, but when you peel back the layers of rhetoric and dig into the realities—military, strategic, and practical—it’s clear that Canada isn’t walking away from this jet anytime soon.
Let’s start with the nuts and bolts of why Canada even signed up for the F-35 in the first place. The Royal Canadian Air Force has been flying CF-18 Hornets since the 1980s, and those birds are long past their prime. By the early 2000s, Ottawa knew it needed a replacement—something that could keep pace with modern threats and integrate seamlessly with its allies.
After years of waffling, including a messy procurement process that saw contenders like the Saab Gripen and Eurofighter Typhoon in the mix, Canada finally locked in the F-35 deal in January 2023. Deliveries are slated to start in 2026, with the full fleet operational by the early 2030s.
🚨 BREAKING: Trudeau breaks down in tears after a heated call with Trump.
Reports say the conversation was “colorful”—translation: Trump probably threw a tantrum about tariffs, and Trudeau isn’t having it.
Canada has already banned U.S. alcohol, refuses to budge on Trump’s… pic.twitter.com/bEBWqcF13w
— Brian Allen (@allenanalysis) March 6, 2025
The choice wasn’t random. The F-35’s stealth capabilities, sensor fusion, and network-centric design make it a fifth-generation fighter that leaves fourth-gen options in the dust. For a country with a vast, sparsely populated northern frontier and a front-row seat to the Arctic, that kind of edge matters.
The Arctic is where this gets real. Russia’s been flexing its muscles up there for years, ramping up military infrastructure and buzzing NATO airspace with bombers like the Tu-95 and Tu-160. Just last month, on February 9, 2025, NORAD tracked a pair of Russian Il-78 tankers and Su-35 fighters skirting Canadian air defense zones near Alaska—a routine provocation, but a reminder of what’s at stake.
Canada’s CF-18s can still scramble to intercept, but they’re outmatched against newer Russian hardware. The F-35, with its low radar cross-section and ability to track targets at extreme ranges, changes that equation. It’s not just about keeping up appearances; it’s about having a credible deterrent in a region where Moscow’s ambitions are only growing.
Can't imagine the amount of patience it takes to have this type of phone call with Trump. From the lies, misinformation, not understanding how anything works, little swearing temper tantrums, Trudeau is a freakin saint.
Don't cave to the elderly orange named Donald. pic.twitter.com/lQABDgK5Vv
— J Hunter🍁 (@MrJoKeR604) March 6, 2025
China’s poking around up there too, eyeing resource plays and testing the waters with surveillance ships. Canada can’t afford to be caught flat-footed, and the F-35 is the tool that keeps it in the game.
Then there’s the NATO angle. Canada’s been a cornerstone of the alliance since 1949, and interoperability with the United States and other partners isn’t optional—it’s a hard requirement. The F-35 isn’t just a plane; it’s a flying data hub that ties into NATO’s command-and-control networks.
Its Link 16 datalink and advanced sensors let it share real-time intel with everything from American F-22s to British frigates. If Canada opted for, say, the Gripen instead, it’d be stuck with a capable jet but one that doesn’t plug into that ecosystem as seamlessly.
The United States Air Force alone plans to operate over 1,700 F-35s, and with allies like the UK, Norway, and Australia already flying them, the jet’s basically the backbone of Western air power.
For Canada to step outside that circle now would mean sidelining itself in joint operations—think NORAD missions or coalition deployments—where split-second coordination is non-negotiable.
Trump’s bluster doesn’t change those fundamentals. Sure, his tariff threats sting. Canada exports about 75% of its goods to the U.S., and a 25% hit could shave billions off its economy. But the F-35 deal isn’t some discretionary trade item that Ottawa can swap out like lumber or oil. It’s a locked-in contract, with payments phased over years and production lines already churning out parts.
Canceling it would trigger penalties—likely in the hundreds of millions—plus the sunk costs of a decade-long selection process. Lockheed Martin’s supply chain spans both countries, too; Canadian firms like Magellan Aerospace and Héroux-Devtek are building components for the jet, supporting thousands of jobs. Walking away doesn’t just burn bridges with Washington—it kneecaps Canada’s own aerospace sector at a time when economic resilience is already under scrutiny.
Some critics might argue that Trump’s unpredictability makes relying on American tech a liability. What if he slaps export controls on F-35 parts or strong-arms Canada into concessions? It’s a fair question, but the reality is that the program’s too big and too multinational for even Trump to derail.
Fourteen countries are in on the F-35, and its logistics backbone—think software updates, maintenance hubs, and spare parts—is spread across places like Italy, Japan, and the UK. The U.S. can’t unilaterally choke it off without screwing over its own allies, which even a hardball player like Trump would think twice about. Plus, Canada’s not exactly defenseless here.
It’s got leverage as America’s top energy supplier—think oil sands and hydroelectricity—and a shared border that’s too critical to both sides for a full-on rupture.
The military math backs this up. Canada’s defense budget sits at about $26 billion CAD annually, or roughly 1.4% of GDP, well below NATO’s 2% target. That’s tight, and the F-35’s price tag—around $85 million per jet, plus operating costs—already stretches it thin.
Starting over with a new fighter competition would take years and billions more, all while the CF-18s limp along on life support. The last major upgrade for those Hornets came in the early 2000s, and they’re slated to retire by 2032.
Any delay in the F-35 timeline risks a capability gap that Canada can’t plug with stopgaps like used F/A-18s from Australia, which it bought in 2018 as a temporary fix. Time’s not on Ottawa’s side, and the F-35’s the only option that’s ready to roll.
Geopolitics aside, there’s a practical angle to this that’s easy to overlook. The F-35 isn’t just about fighting wars—it’s about projecting power and securing influence. Canada’s got a 5,500-mile coastline to patrol, plus commitments to everything from UN peacekeeping to countering piracy in the Indo-Pacific. The jet’s multirole design lets it switch from air superiority to ground attack on the fly, with a range and payload that outclasses anything else in its class.
That flexibility matters for a middle power like Canada, which needs to punch above its weight without breaking the bank. Ditching it for a protest vote against Trump would leave the RCAF with a hole it can’t fill, and no amount of national pride fixes that.
Trump’s noise isn’t irrelevant, though. His tariffs and “America First” agenda could complicate things down the line—higher costs for maintenance, maybe, or pressure to align more closely with U.S. foreign policy. But those are risks Canada’s been managing since NAFTA’s early days. The F-35 deal’s too far along, too entrenched in NATO’s framework, and too vital to national security for Ottawa to back out now.
The handful of analysts pushing for a rethink are loud, but they’re missing the forest for the trees. This isn’t about feelings or flexing sovereignty—it’s about cold, hard necessity. Russia’s not waiting, China’s not slowing down, and the Arctic’s not getting any less contested. The F-35 keeps Canada in the fight, and that’s a reality no tariff tantrum can rewrite.
So, when the first Canadian F-35 rolls off the line in 2026, don’t expect Ottawa to blink. Trump can tweet—or X-post, rather—all he wants about tariffs and takeovers, but the strategic calculus hasn’t shifted.
Would cancelling Canada's $19-billion purchase of the American F-35 fighter jet be an unfair "disproportionate" response to the Trump tariffs?
— Steven Chase (@stevenchase) March 5, 2025
Canada’s locked in, not because it loves Uncle Sam, but because it knows what’s at stake. The jet’s not perfect, and the politics are messy, but in a world where threats don’t care about borders or bruised egos, it’s the best tool for the job. And that’s what matters.
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