The Su-75 Checkmate, Russia’s much-vaunted single-engine stealth fighter intended as an answer to Western air superiority platforms, appears to exist more in the realm of strategic projection than physical reality. Introduced in 2021 with promises of advanced stealth features, modern sensors, and strong export appeal, the aircraft has yet to fly. Four years on, it remains a collection of scale models, promotional materials, and optimistic pronouncements about a prototype that is perpetually ‘next year.’ This stagnation is a direct consequence of the immense pressure on Russia’s military-industrial complex, worn down by sanctions and drained by the ongoing war in Ukraine.
Instead of developing new platforms, Russia’s production lines are preoccupied with refurbishing legacy Soviet-era aircraft, assembling drones, and manufacturing large volumes of inexpensive munitions. The nation’s struggle to circumvent sanctions for critical components like microelectronics and machine tools underscores its inability to support a next-generation fighter program. Consequently, the Su-75 has evolved from a development project into a symbolic signal to international audiences, intended to project an image of continued technological leadership in military aviation, even as the operational realities suggest otherwise.
The Checkmate was envisioned as a crucial tool to reverse the decline in Russia’s global fighter jet market share. It was meant to showcase innovation under adverse conditions and propose a model for affordable, mass-produced aircraft in an age of artificial intelligence and autonomous warfare. However, the war in Ukraine has significantly undermined the export prospects of Russian defense systems. The performance of Russian aircraft in combat has exposed vulnerabilities, leading potential customers to reconsider their procurement strategies.
Within Russia’s aerospace sector, a brain drain of engineers, fractured supply chains, and dwindling investment have created a challenging environment. The Su-75 was meant to symbolize a resurgence and demonstrate forward momentum. However, genuine progress in aerospace development requires a robust industrial ecosystem capable of producing advanced composites, reliable engines, secure avionics, and sophisticated software at scale – elements that Moscow currently struggles to deliver. This discrepancy between ambition and capacity is reminiscent of the T-14 Armata tank, which also made a spectacular debut but has seen negligible operational deployment.
The war in Ukraine has dictated a stringent reprioritization of Russia’s military aviation efforts. Facilities that could have been dedicated to developing and testing a new stealth aircraft are now focused on keeping older fleets operational and implementing incremental upgrades. Limited resources are directed towards producing critical battlefield assets such as glide bombs, cruise missiles, and drones, rather than investing in the high-risk, long-term endeavor of flight-testing a novel stealth fighter. Even the Su-57, Russia’s intended fifth-generation flagship, remains in low-volume production. In this context, the Su-75 is not merely delayed; it has been effectively sidelined. The intense demands of high-intensity conflict necessitate a focus on survivability, volume production, and cost-effective lethality. A sophisticated stealth fighter requires an integrated industrial and technological ecosystem that Russia can no longer reliably control or access. The Su-75 does not align with the current battlefield logic that dominates Moscow’s strategic thinking.