India’s Tejas dilemma

2026-01-30 - 19:36

THE second crash of the Light Combat Aircraft (LCA) Tejas within a single year has dealt a serious blow to India’s carefully curated narrative of defense self-reliance. Coming at a time when New Delhi has been aggressively marketing its indigenous military platforms as symbols of technological maturity and strategic autonomy, the reported incident at the prestigious Dubai Air Show could not have been more damaging. Air shows are not merely exhibitions; they are global marketplaces of credibility. When an aircraft meant to showcase national capability fails on such a stage, the consequences travel far beyond the wreckage. India’s “Atmanirbhar Bharat” push in defense has been built as much on perception as on performance. Tejas, positioned as the flagship of this ambition, was supposed to signal that India had finally broken free from decades of import dependence. Instead, repeated accidents have reopened uncomfortable questions about whether the program has been rushed to meet political expectations rather than operational readiness. A crash during an international air show—where potential buyers, competitors and skeptics are all watching—magnifies every underlying flaw. The Dubai incident has reportedly triggered unease among prospective foreign partners who were already cautiously evaluating the Tejas. Defense procurement is a long-term, risk-averse process. No air force wants to invest billions in a platform whose reliability is still under question. For countries weighing Tejas against proven alternatives from established aerospace powers, repeated crashes send a clear warning signal. The result is not just lost sales, but erosion of trust in India’s broader defense export ambitions. This skepticism is compounded by persistent concerns over Hindustan Aeronautics Limited’s (HAL) production capacity. Even before the latest setback, HAL was struggling to meet timelines for the initial batch of 40 aircraft for the Indian Air Force. Delays in setting up manufacturing facilities, supply chain inefficiencies and dependency on foreign components have plagued the program. When crashes occur alongside missed deadlines, they reinforce the perception that India’s defense-industrial ecosystem is not yet capable of delivering complex systems at scale. Analysts now warn that it could take up to a decade for the Indian Air Force to fully equip even its first two Tejas squadrons. This timeline is deeply troubling given the IAF’s already shrinking fighter strength and the rapid modernization of rival air forces in the region. While policymakers speak of self-reliance, the reality on the ground suggests that operational gaps may persist far longer than officially acknowledged. In the meantime, India continues to rely heavily on imported platforms to maintain basic deterrence. The contrast between rhetoric and reality becomes even starker when viewed through the lens of safety and design robustness. The first Tejas crash of the year, near Jaisalmer after participation in Exercise Bharat Shakti, was reportedly linked to engine failure. While engine issues are not uncommon in aviation, they are far less excusable in a fighter that has been under development for decades. More worrying are long-standing concerns about structural shortcomings in the airframe—an aspect that directly affects durability, survivability and performance under high-intensity combat conditions. A fighter aircraft is not judged by ceremonial flypasts or political endorsements, but by how reliably it performs in the harshest operational environments. Questions about airframe resilience, maintenance demands and operational availability strike at the heart of combat credibility. When such doubts persist after years of testing and induction, they suggest systemic issues rather than isolated mishaps. The international implications are equally significant. India has been attempting to position itself as an alternative defense supplier for countries seeking to diversify away from traditional arms exporters. Repeated setbacks in its flagship fighter program cast a long shadow over these ambitions. Defense exports rely on confidence—not just in the product, but in the institutions that design, build and sustain it. Each high-profile failure chips away at that confidence. None of this is to argue that indigenous defense development is unnecessary or misguided. On the contrary, self-reliance in defense is a strategic imperative for a country of India’s size and geopolitical aspirations. However, genuine self-reliance cannot be declared through slogans or air show displays. It must be earned through rigorous testing, transparency about failures and a willingness to prioritize quality over symbolism. The Tejas programme still has the potential to mature into a reliable platform, but that will require honest introspection rather than defensive spin. Crashes must be treated not as public relations crises to be managed, but as engineering failures to be thoroughly understood and corrected. Until then, every new mishap will continue to undermine India’s claims of having arrived as a self-reliant aerospace power. The Dubai Air Show crash, real or reported, has become more than an accident—it is a metaphor. It symbolizes the gap between ambition and execution in India’s defence modernization drive. Unless that gap is addressed with urgency and humility, the dream of “Atmanirbhar” defence will remain grounded, even as the rhetoric continues to soar. —The writer is regular contributor. (asadmalik2008@gmail.com)