Portugal Reconsiders the F-35, Weighing Sovereignty and Risk in a Shifting Alliance

LISBON — For decades, Portugal’s air power strategy followed a predictable arc. As one of the original signatories of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization in 1949, the country anchored its defense posture to transatlantic integration. Its fleet of American-made F-16s symbolized that alignment — reliable, interoperable, and politically uncontroversial.

That assumption no longer holds.

In recent months, Portuguese defense officials have quietly paused discussions over acquiring the F-35 Lightning II, widely viewed as the natural successor to its aging F-16A and F-16B aircraft. Instead, Lisbon has accelerated talks with Sweden’s Saab over the JAS 39 Gripen E, a multirole fighter assembled in Canada that promises lower operating costs and, crucially, fewer political entanglements.

The shift is not ideological. It is actuarial.

Portugal’s F-16 fleet, acquired in the 1990s, is approaching structural and technological limits. Airframes show fatigue. Maintenance costs rise each year. NATO air policing missions require modern sensors and secure data links. Replacement is not optional.

Until recently, the F-35 appeared inevitable. Manufactured by Lockheed Martin, the stealth aircraft has become the backbone of allied modernization efforts across Europe. Its sensor fusion and low-observable design represent a generational leap in capability.

But the F-35 is not merely hardware. It is an ecosystem — dependent on American-controlled software updates, mission data files, spare parts pipelines and export approvals governed by U.S. regulations. In stable diplomatic climates, that architecture functions seamlessly. In volatile ones, it introduces vulnerability.

Portuguese policymakers began factoring that risk more explicitly after political rhetoric from Washington targeted Canada, including threats tied to defense cooperation and procurement. Even if unlikely to materialize, such statements sharpened questions about long-term access and leverage.

Canada is among Washington’s closest allies. If political disagreements could surface there, Portuguese officials reasoned, what guarantees shield smaller partners from similar exposure?

Defense planning operates on decades-long horizons. Fighter aircraft purchased today will serve into the 2050s. Over that lifespan, governments change, alliances evolve and crises emerge. Lisbon’s reassessment reflects concern not about present hostility, but about future unpredictability.

The Gripen E offers a different model. Designed for modular upgrades and streamlined maintenance, it allows greater national control over software and sustainment. Operating costs are widely cited at a fraction of those associated with the F-35 — estimates often place the Gripen near $8,000 per flight hour, compared with figures around $35,000 for the American jet. Over 30 years, that differential amounts to billions of euros.

For a midsize European economy balancing defense commitments with fiscal constraints, cost matters. Savings can be redirected toward munitions, training hours or naval modernization.

Operational sovereignty matters as well. Under a Gripen arrangement, Portuguese technicians would conduct maintenance domestically through European supply chains. Software updates would not require centralized American oversight. That autonomy carries strategic weight in an era when digital code increasingly defines combat effectiveness.

The choice does not amount to a repudiation of NATO integration. The Gripen operates with alliance data links and Western munitions. Portugal would remain interoperable in joint missions. But diversification introduces flexibility — and reduces single-source dependence.

The implications extend beyond Lisbon.

Portugal is not a peripheral actor. It is one of NATO’s founding members, with strategic geography spanning the Iberian Peninsula and the Atlantic. Its procurement decisions carry signaling power. Spain, weighing options for its F-18 replacement, will observe closely. Germany’s ongoing debate over fleet composition intersects with broader questions about strategic autonomy. France has long advocated reducing reliance on American platforms.

For Lockheed Martin, losing a potential order of fewer than two dozen aircraft will not jeopardize the F-35 program’s scale. The deeper consequence lies in precedent. If allies begin quantifying political volatility as a material procurement risk, American defense exports could face a subtler challenge: erosion of assumed trust.

Across the Atlantic, political tremors compound the picture. The House of Representatives recently passed legislation aimed at curbing tariffs on Canada, a rare rebuke to President Donald Trump from within his own party. The vote exposed fractures over trade policy and executive authority at a moment of economic strain. While the measure’s fate remains uncertain, it underscored how domestic politics can ripple outward into alliance calculations.

In Lisbon, the lesson appears clear. Defense procurement is no longer purely about performance metrics or alliance symbolism. It is about resilience — legal, industrial and political.

The F-35 remains technologically superior in stealth and sensor integration. Portugal’s deliberation does not dispute that assessment. Instead, it reflects a recalibration of priorities: affordability, continuity of access and sovereign control alongside raw capability.

Alliances endure through shared values and mutual respect. They also depend on predictability. When that predictability wavers, even rhetorically, planners adjust.

Portugal’s reconsideration of its fighter fleet may ultimately result in a diversified NATO landscape rather than fragmentation. But it serves as a reminder that strategic decisions are rarely static. They evolve with perception, and perception is shaped as much by words as by weapons.

In the long arc of transatlantic relations, a single aircraft contract may seem minor. Yet procurement choices, like trade votes, reveal deeper currents. In both Lisbon and Washington, policymakers are measuring exposure to concentrated power — and deciding how much risk they are willing to carry into the next generation.