When Ukraine finally obtained its first F-16 fighter aircraft, the news was accompanied by cheers and high-drama headlines. It was hailed by leaders as a “game-changer,” a sign of revived hope in breaking Russia’s grip on the skies. There is a harsher truth lurking beneath the excitement, however—deploying advanced Western aircraft into an active war zone is no quick or easy solution.
Technologically, the F-16 is a major upgrade. Compared to Ukraine’s stretched-out MiG-29s and Su-27s—the aircraft that have been pushed past their limits—the US-manufactured aircraft provides much better radar, more weapons, and a longer reach. These features may fill the gap with Russia’s very capable Su-35s, which are equipped with better sensors and long-range missiles.
But putting these jets in the air isn’t simply a question of having them on the runway. The vast majority of Ukrainian pilots have spent their careers flying Soviet aircraft with conventional controls, so learning to operate a fly-by-wire cockpit is a high barrier to entry.
Training that would normally take many months—maybe even years—is being packed into a tiny percentage of those hours, and being taught in a language other than their own, which isn’t exactly helpful.
And not even the pilots. A fighter squadron relies on a whole complex of skilled mechanics, weapons masters, and support staff to be able to get the jets out there and fight. That doesn’t happen overnight. Meanwhile, outside contractors will fill the gap, but that creates its own set of political and operational complications.
Numbers matter, too, and in this area, Ukraine has a hard reality. The first shipments are short with fewer than a handful of dozen planes arriving by the end of 2024. President Volodymyr Zelenskyy has said that around 128 would be necessary to effectively offset Russia’s air force capabilities.
Even factoring in contributions that have been pledged by allies like Denmark, the Netherlands, Norway, and Belgium, the figure still falls short, and delivery dates are uncertain.
There are also restrictions placed on the use of such jets. Western allies have placed limitations on operations, particularly in terms of penetration deep into Russian airspace. Moreover, Russia’s dense air defense systems—namely the S-400—make Ukrainian pilots fly low, limiting missile range and putting them at risk of detection and interception.
Because of these hindrances, the broader picture in the air has not fundamentally shifted much since the initial stages of the conflict, when both sides fell back into a form of air denial as opposed to outright mastery. In the meantime, Ukraine’s F-16s are likelier to be employed as bulwarks—protecting cities, strategic sites, and frontline units—than as tools of sweeping campaigns of attack.
Politics also slows down the process. Donor nations attach conditions to the use of the jets, and pipeline slots for training are extremely limited. US and European programs can process only a small number of pilots at a time, which extends the timeline for full integration.
All these limitations notwithstanding, the arrival of the F-16 is not insignificant. The planes will improve Ukraine’s defense capability, boost missile interception, and increasingly bring its air force into the NATO fold. But they’re not an overnight game-changer. Their actual impact will be measured in years, not weeks, as Ukraine gradually rebuilds and rationalizes its air power for the long term to come.