INVESTIGATION: SCALP missiles manufactured in Ukraine — a Franco-Kyiv deal reshaping the war

The word "progress" that changes everything

On June 29, 2026, Ukrainian Defense Minister Mykhailo Fedorov used a word that had never been spoken in this context before: "progress." During a joint press conference with his Danish counterpart Jeppe Bruus, Fedorov confirmed that negotiations with France for production licenses for SCALP missiles — the famous Franco-British cruise missiles with a range of 250 kilometers — had moved beyond statements of intent into a "more detailed discussion." This is not yet a signature. But it is far more than a promise.

To grasp the scale of this diplomatic shift, context is essential. Since the beginning of the full-scale war in February 2022, Ukraine has depended on deliveries of Western missiles to strike deep into Russian rear areas. France has supplied SCALP missiles since July 2023, when President Emmanuel Macron agreed at the NATO summit in Vilnius to transfer them directly to Kyiv. But deliveries are not autonomous production. And the difference between the two could change the outcome of the war.

Why the license is worth more than the missile

A production license is not one more missile sitting in a Ukrainian warehouse. It is the capacity to manufacture missiles indefinitely — or nearly so — on Ukrainian soil, independent of political shifts in Western capitals, delivery delays, decisions by the US Congress, or the French electoral calendar. It is Ukraine's industrial emancipation in the field of long-range precision weapons. In military terms, it is a paradigm shift.

Fedorov understood this and said so: "It is unprecedented that this was even announced, and that such conversations began." That subtext is crucial. Before the G7 summit at Évian-les-Bains on June 17, 2026, no Western country formally agreed to discuss production licenses with Ukraine. The taboo has now been broken — and SCALP missiles are at the top of the list.

I have to be honest: I do not know whether this agreement will materialize. Negotiations over intellectual property in the defence field can drag on for years. But the very fact that Fedorov can say "progress" publicly — without being contradicted by Paris — is already a considerable diplomatic victory for Zelensky.

From Vilnius to Kyiv: the history of a transfer

In July 2023, at the NATO summit in Vilnius, President Macron agreed to transfer SCALP missiles directly to Ukraine. The decision landed like a political bombshell — and delivered concrete military assistance. The SCALP, also known as the Storm Shadow in its British version, is a long-range air-launched cruise missile capable of flying at low altitude, bypassing air defenses, and striking hardened targets with precision at distances up to 250 kilometers. Ukraine immediately used it against military targets in occupied Crimea and Russian rear areas.

Since then, France has continued delivering SCALP missiles in limited quantities — including a transfer of "almost 10 additional missiles" announced in November 2024 by the French Defence Minister at the time. These periodic deliveries have operational value, but they also have a structural limit: they depend on political will and available French stocks. Ukraine needs a durable, predictable strike capability that is not subject to the moods of its partners.

The G7 at Évian context: a doctrinal turning point

On June 17, 2026, following the G7 summit at Évian-les-Bains, leaders issued a joint statement that constitutes a major doctrinal shift. "We are also prepared to consider granting Ukraine the benefit of licenses to allow for an increase in Ukrainian military production," the statement reads. German Chancellor Friedrich Merz elaborated: "We are all currently producing too little, and this can be remedied by licensing companies with these production capabilities, including those in Europe and in Ukraine."

This is not yet a firm commitment. The text says "prepared to consider" — not "we grant." A senior anonymous European official clarified at the time: "The United States said they would look into the question, but there was no decision." However, the fact that the G7 formally acknowledged this discussion publicly opened a window that the Ukrainians immediately and methodically exploited. Fedorov moved quickly to confirm that the SCALP missiles were already in a "more detailed discussion" — well ahead of other systems.

"Prepared to consider" — three words that seem timid, but in the diplomatic language of the G7, represent a considerable shift. The West is accepting a public debate on what was taboo just twelve months ago: industrially arming Ukraine. Macron and Merz know what they are doing. Trump, for his part, "reacted positively" according to Zelensky. Which, in Trump's language, can mean a great deal — or nothing at all.

Behind the scenes at Évian-les-Bains

On the sidelines of the G7, a bilateral meeting took place between President Zelensky and President Macron. The details of that meeting were not made public. But what Fedorov confirmed on June 29 makes it possible to reconstruct the essentials: "I can say that during our president's visit to France, there was a very good conversation with Macron about the possibility of sharing licenses for SCALP missiles with our country, and now the conversation continues both with the government and with the company in this regard." The company in question is MBDA — the European manufacturer of SCALP missiles, which had also signed a memorandum of understanding with Ukrainian company Ukrainian Armored Vehicles in June 2026 to develop deep-strike capabilities.

Zelensky was not at Évian by accident. He appeared in the G7 plenary session seated between Macron and Trump — a diplomatic staging with its own significance. That physical positioning translated a political reality: Ukraine is now at the center of Western negotiating tables, not at their periphery. And the SCALP missiles are the concrete symbol of what that presence can produce.

The intellectual property obstacle

Fedorov was transparent about the difficulties. He described it as "a difficult process regarding intellectual property, opening up production, and so on. There is some bureaucracy involved." Intellectual property in the defence sector is an extremely sensitive subject. The technologies that make a missile like the SCALP precise — its terminal guidance system, its low-altitude flight profile, its warhead — represent decades of research and development investment by MBDA and the governments that fund it. Granting a license means agreeing to share those technologies with a partner country — with all the proliferation risks that implies.

Ukraine is not an ordinary partner. It is a country at war, on whose territory infrastructure can be bombed at any moment. The question of securing licensed production facilities is a genuine concern. But it is also, paradoxically, an additional reason to conclude the agreement quickly: every month of delay is a month during which Ukraine remains dependent on external deliveries that Russia constantly tries to disrupt diplomatically.

I understand the hesitations over intellectual property. Truly. But there is something slightly absurd about protecting patents when a sovereign country is fighting for its survival. Bureaucracy can kill just as surely as missiles. And in this case, it is the West's own bureaucracy that is slowing down the defensive capacity of a besieged democracy.

The Brave France initiative and the 23 million euros

SCALP missiles are only the visible tip of the iceberg. On June 17, 2026, on the sidelines of the Eurosatory 2026 defence show in Paris, French and Ukrainian defence companies signed an agreement to receive 20 million euros (approximately 23 million dollars) under the Brave France initiative, to develop missiles, unmanned systems, and aerial countermeasure technologies. The agreement was signed between the director of the French Defence Innovation Agency (AID), Patrick Aufort, and the operational director of Brave1, Iryna Zabolotna, in the presence of French Armed Forces Minister Catherine Vautrin.

The 10 million euros contributed by each side, with individual grants of up to 1 million euros, represent a concrete mechanism for industrial co-development. The first call for applications is planned for September 2026. This is not humanitarian aid. It is a business partnership between two defence industries — one of the world's most sophisticated, France's, and one of the most innovative in wartime conditions, Ukraine's.

MBDA, KNDS and the Franco-Ukrainian industrial turning point

The MBDA-Ukrainian Armored Vehicles memorandum of June 2026 is another strong signal. MBDA manufactures not only the SCALP but also the Storm Shadow, Taurus, Meteor, and Aster missiles. The fact that this company signed a memorandum with a Ukrainian partner for "deep strike" and counter-drone projects is no calendar coincidence. It is a preparatory step toward the kind of industrial cooperation that the SCALP license negotiations aim to formalize.

French company KNDS, producer of Leopard tanks and Caesar self-propelled howitzers, announced in June 2025 the establishment of a subsidiary in Ukraine. Representatives of Ukrainian and French companies had signed an agreement in Paris to create an ammunition production facility under KNDS license. These agreements form the backbone of a Franco-Ukrainian defence industrial partnership that goes far beyond one-off equipment deliveries.

What is being built between France and Ukraine in 2026 is a defence industrial relationship that resembles what the United States developed with Western Europe after the Second World War. A web of agreements, co-developments, and technology sharing that creates strategic interdependence. Macron may have found here the concrete form of his ambition for European strategic autonomy.

Zelensky and Trump at Évian: a "positive" that commits little

At the G7 in Évian, President Zelensky had his first in-person meeting with Trump in several months. He asked for licenses to produce Patriot missile system components in Ukraine. Trump's response? "Positive," according to Zelensky himself. "When President Trump is positive, I hope that means yes," Zelensky declared at a press conference with Reuters. Hope, but also caution — expressed in the same sentence.

On June 21, 2026, Zelensky added: "Trump plans to ask US defence companies to manufacture missiles for air defence systems under licenses in Europe and in Ukraine." That is a statement from the Ukrainian president, not from the White House. Consultations were expected to begin with Raytheon, other manufacturers, and within the US administration. The problem: between Trump's stated intention and a signed license, years can pass — especially in an American system where intellectual property and industrial protection issues are formidably complex.

Why SCALP missiles have a head start on Patriots

Negotiations on SCALP missiles are at a "more advanced stage" than general discussions on Western weapons production in Ukraine — Fedorov himself specified this. Why? Several reasons converge. First, France is a more centralized actor in defence decision-making than the United States: the French state holds a significant share of MBDA's capital through its stakes in Airbus and BAE Systems, and can accelerate decisions more directly. Second, the Macron-Zelensky relationship is solidly established — unlike the Trump-Zelensky relationship, still marked by fundamental tension.

Finally, SCALP missiles have already been transferred to Ukraine. The step from "deliveries" to "production license" is therefore shorter than for systems never previously shared. The operational trust is there. Ukrainians have proven their ability to use these missiles with precision and discretion. That track record works in favor of the agreement.

I am struck by the strategic precision of Fedorov. He could have announced all projects together, creating one big media announcement. He did the opposite: he said specifically that SCALP missiles are "at a more advanced stage." That is calculated. It is a signal sent to Paris to maintain pressure without burning bridges. Masterful defence diplomacy.

Intellectual property in defence: a legal labyrinth

Defence production license agreements do not resemble software licenses. They involve government treaties, non-disclosure agreements, export control clauses, wartime technology use restrictions, and security protocols for production facilities. The US ITAR regulations (International Traffic in Arms Regulations), which apply to many technologies integrated into the SCALP, add an additional layer of complexity even for a bilateral Franco-Ukrainian agreement — since American components in the missile may require Washington's approval.

This is not bureaucratic cover invented by timid diplomats. It is a legal and commercial reality. European Defence and Space Commissioner Andrius Kubilius had recently described Ukraine's defence industry as "one of the most innovative in Europe" and called for its deeper integration into the European defence industrial base. But integration takes time. And time, in this war, is measured in lives.

The Danish model as a workaround

Fedorov mentioned at his press conference the "Danish financing model" as a mechanism to support Ukrainian defence manufacturers. Denmark developed an innovative model for directly financing Ukrainian arms purchases from international manufacturers, bypassing some of the administrative burdens of classical government deliveries. It is notably in this context that Jeppe Bruus, the Danish Defence Minister, was present alongside Fedorov at that press conference — Denmark having announced the same day a 670 million dollar aid package for Ukraine.

Could this financing model apply to SCALP license negotiations? Perhaps not directly, but the principle — finding alternative paths around standard government procedures to accelerate the transfer of military capabilities — is exactly what Ukraine needs. The ongoing negotiations involve both "the government and the company," according to Fedorov: that is good news. It means MBDA is directly in the loop, not merely as a sub-contractor to a government decision.

The "Danish model" is one of the quiet success stories of this conflict: a small country that found a way to circumvent the rigidities of large bureaucratic systems to deliver faster. This is exactly the kind of institutional innovation the West needs when facing a Russia that has no parliamentary committees to convince before launching a strike.

The dependency cycle and how to break out of it

Since the beginning of the full-scale war, Ukraine has experienced several ammunition and precision weapons supply crises. 155mm artillery shells, missiles for Patriot systems, SCALP and Storm Shadow — each of these weapons went through periods of shortage that affected Ukraine's ability to defend itself and counterattack. These shortages were not due to lack of will on the part of Western allies, but to the reality of a Western defence industry not sized for a war of attrition at this scale.

Licensed production in Ukraine would structurally solve this problem for the weapons concerned. A SCALP factory in Ukraine — protected, dispersed, camouflaged as Ukrainians know how to do — could produce missiles at a rate adapted to the operational needs of the Ukrainian army. Without depending on political decisions in Paris, without suffering transport logistics delays, without being limited by French stocks. That is autonomy. And autonomy, in this context, is survival.

The drone lesson: what domestic production has changed

Ukraine has already proven that domestic weapons production can radically change a conflict's dynamics. Ukrainian drones — produced in Ukraine, by Ukrainian companies, with partly Ukrainian funding — have transformed the logistics balance against Russia. The Logistics Lockdown campaign would not have been possible with imported, rationed drones. It was possible because Ukraine invested massively in its own medium-range drone production capacity. Defence Minister Fedorov had contracted 300 percent more medium-range strike drones in the first four months of 2026 than in all of 2025 — because Ukrainian industry can supply what foreign partners cannot always deliver fast enough.

SCALP missiles manufactured in Ukraine would represent an extension of this logic to an even more strategic weapons category: long-range cruise missiles capable of striking hardened targets at 250 kilometers. Missiles that can reach Russian command posts, ammunition depots, logistics hubs well behind the front. Missiles that Russia cannot easily intercept and that cost it dearly every time they are fired.

I often think about what this war has produced in terms of transforming Ukraine's defence industry. In 2022, Ukraine depended almost entirely on inherited Soviet armament and Western deliveries. In 2026, it is negotiating SCALP licenses and partnerships with MBDA. That is an industrial metamorphosis accelerated by necessity. Unpleasant. Necessary. Impressive.

Moscow cannot respond on this dimension of the conflict

Russia has commented very little publicly on SCALP license negotiations. And for good reason: it cannot really respond on the same terrain. Russia's strategy in this war has been to use numerical superiority in men, shells, and armor to compensate for technological deficits. But a Ukraine with autonomous SCALP production capacity changes the equation radically. Russian numerical superiority is useless if command posts, ammunition depots, and airfields are struck in depth repeatedly and durably.

What Russia can do is attempt to slow negotiations through diplomatic pressure on France — via confidential channels, threats of economic retaliation, messages sent through third countries like China or neutral actors. It can also attempt to preemptively strike Ukrainian facilities presumed to serve future production — something it already does systematically against drone factories. But licensed SCALP production can be dispersed, underground, protected in ways that make these preemptive strikes very difficult to target.

The Paris-Kyiv axis as a new strategic reality

The potential SCALP agreement is not isolated. It is embedded in a Franco-Ukrainian relationship that has deepened considerably since 2022. The letter of intent signed in February 2026 between Fedorov and French Minister Vautrin had already "opened the path to large-scale joint projects in the defence industry." The Brave France initiative of June 2026 provided a concrete financing mechanism. SCALP negotiations would constitute the next step — the most substantial one.

The outgoing British Prime Minister was also moving in the same direction: the £300 billion defence plan announced on June 30, 2026 explicitly integrates lessons from the war in Ukraine. Europe is rebuilding its defence doctrine and industry around Ukrainian experience. And in that rebuilding, SCALP missiles manufactured in Ukraine would be a symbol as much as an operational reality.

There is something profoundly symbolic in the idea that France — which long embodied a fiercely national independent defence policy — is accepting to share its most sophisticated missile technologies with Ukraine. This is not generosity — it is geopolitical clarity. Macron understands that France's security runs through Ukraine's resistance. SCALP missiles in Ukraine protect Paris as much as Kyiv.

Growing pressure on Washington

The Franco-Ukrainian SCALP negotiations create indirect but real pressure on Washington. If France grants a long-range cruise missile production license to Ukraine, the United States will not be able to stay out of the movement without sending a very negative political signal to their European allies and to Kyiv. The logic of precedent plays a crucial role here: if the French do it, why not the Americans for Patriot systems?

Zelensky understood this dynamic and strategically cultivated it. By publicly announcing on June 21, 2026 that Trump was "planning" to ask US companies to grant licenses, he created a public expectation that will be difficult for Trump to avoid meeting — at least partially. It is a risky bet: if Trump backs down, the diplomatic reversal will be damaging. But Ukraine has long been accustomed to taking calculated risks.

Denmark as a model of active support

While awaiting American decisions, Denmark continues to act. On June 29, 2026, Jeppe Bruus accompanied Fedorov at the SCALP announcement — not by chance. A few hours later, Copenhagen announced a 670 million dollar aid package for Ukraine. It is not the size of the package that matters — it is the signal. A small NATO member that has no SCALP missiles to deliver, but does the maximum with what it has. And that is physically present alongside Ukraine when major decisions are being made.

Ukraine is also signing bilateral agreements outside classical multilateral frameworks. On June 30, 2026, it announced a purchase agreement for 16 Swedish Gripen E fighter jets — a major acquisition that, combined with the prospects of licensed SCALP production, sketches an increasingly technologically sophisticated Ukrainian army, and one ever less dependent on political uncertainties in Washington.

I keep coming back to this reality: Ukraine is building itself a first-rate army, piece by piece, agreement by agreement, under Russian bombs. Everyone expected it to collapse in 2022. It is in the process of becoming one of the most battle-hardened and innovative armies in the world. That is a living history lesson we have the privilege — and the responsibility — to witness.

An arc of support stretching from Scandinavia to the Mediterranean

The Gripen E agreement with Sweden and the SCALP negotiations with France are not isolated initiatives. They are part of a European arc of support for Ukraine that, since Finland and Sweden joined NATO, stretches from the shores of the Baltic to the coasts of the Mediterranean. Each country contributes its specialties: France its cruise missiles, Sweden its fighter jets, Denmark its financing model, Norway its maritime missile systems. Together they form a chain of capabilities that none could offer alone.

This distributed architecture is also a protection for Ukraine: no single government's decision can cut off all support. Even if the United States under Trump reduced its aid, the European network would compensate for part of the loss. And even if France went through an internal political crisis that slowed SCALP negotiations, the rest of the chain would continue functioning. Partnership diversification is a resilience strategy as much as an acquisition strategy.

Finland as a model student for NATO

Finland, sharing 1,300 kilometers of border with Russia and a NATO member since 2023, watches the war in Ukraine with particular acuity. Finland maintains a strong national defence industry, a military reserve of 280,000 personnel, and a total defence doctrine inherited from decades of risky coexistence with its Russian neighbor. It has followed the production license negotiations closely — and some Finnish experts have expressed hope that Ukraine, if it obtains these licenses, could become a full defence industrial partner for the Nordic countries.

Swedish military intelligence chiefs have been among the clearest on the long-term Russian threat: "The Russian threat will outlast Putin," declared the head of Swedish military intelligence in July 2026, according to the Kyiv Independent. This long-term vision — Russia as a structural, not merely conjunctural, threat — is what drives Nordic countries' defence investment decisions. And it is the same vision that makes SCALP licenses for Ukraine so important: not just for this war, but for the decade ahead.

Nordic countries have something that great powers sometimes forget: memory. The memory of what it costs to live next to Russia, to negotiate with it, to trust it — then to watch it invade its neighbors. That memory makes the Finns, the Swedes, the Norwegians, the Estonians — the best allies Ukraine could have. They understand without explanation what Kyiv feels.

300 percent more drones: the figure that sums it all up

In 2026, Ukraine's Armaments Directorate contracted 300 percent more medium-range strike drones in the first four months than in all of 2025. This figure, cited by Fedorov himself, illustrates the rise of Ukraine's defence industry. Two years ago, Ukraine imported virtually all of its precision weapons. Today it produces thousands of drones per month, is preparing production lines for missiles, and is negotiating licenses for Europe's most sophisticated cruise missiles.

European Commissioner Andrius Kubilius described Ukraine's defence industry as "one of the most innovative in Europe." That is not diplomatic flattery. It is an observation based on performance: Ukraine has developed under fire drones capable of striking at 205 kilometers, loitering munitions capable of targeting Russian tanks at great distances, electronic warfare systems that surprise Russian engineers. This innovation base is exactly what a SCALP license agreement needs on the Ukrainian side to function.

Joint projects already underway

Fedorov noted at the June 29 press conference that "joint weapons production projects with European partners are already underway." He gave no details. But several elements allow us to reconstruct the picture: the MBDA-Ukrainian Armored Vehicles memorandum, the KNDS ammunition production agreement in Paris, the partnership between Ukrainian and French drone manufacturers under Brave France, and potentially other classified or unannounced agreements. Ukraine is already inside the European defence industry. The question is no longer "if" but "at what speed."

This network of industrial partnerships is also diplomatic protection. The more Ukraine is integrated into the European defence industry, the more politically costly it becomes for European governments to reduce their support. This is what the Ukrainians call Western anchoring — and each industrial agreement is one more anchor.

There is something irreversible in what is being built. Once Ukrainian factories produce weapons under SCALP licenses, once they employ engineers trained by MBDA, once they source from European suppliers — you can no longer simply "stop support for Ukraine" through a parliamentary vote. Industrial interdependence is stronger than political resolutions. Zelensky knows this. It is a conscious strategy.

What the investigation cannot confirm

I must be honest about the limits of what available sources allow us to assert. Fedorov said "progress" — not "agreement signed." He said "too early to conclude" — not "we are ready to hand over the blueprints." Negotiations over cruise missile production licenses can stretch for months, even years. Preliminary agreements can fail on technical, legal, or political details that public statements do not reveal. I do not have access to confidential discussions between Paris and Kyiv. I report what is verifiable — public statements, signed agreements, documented contexts.

There is also a risk of over-reading positive signals. Ukraine has sometimes announced diplomatic advances that did not keep pace with expectations — the Patriot licenses described as "positive" by Trump had not, as of the date of this investigation's publication, produced a formal agreement. Enthusiasm is warranted, but must remain calibrated to reality: "progress" is not "agreement," and "agreement" is not yet "production."

Pressures weighing on France

France faces its own internal constraints. Outgoing British Prime Minister Starmer — whose analogy with the United Kingdom is relevant for understanding the general political context in Europe — announced his resignation as leader of the Labour Party on June 22, 2026. In France, the political situation is also in flux following recent legislative elections. Decisions on SCALP licenses involve complex interministerial arbitrations between the Quai d'Orsay, the DGA (General Directorate of Armaments), the Élysée, and MBDA's shareholders. These decisions are not made overnight, even with the best political will.

Pressure from Russia is also real. Moscow has channels of influence in Europe — economic lobbying, pressure on third countries, disinformation — that it will deploy to slow or torpedo an agreement it knows could be decisive. The fact that negotiations are proceeding discreetly, with public statements calibrated word by word, suggests that Ukrainian and French teams are aware of this threat.

I would have liked to write: "The agreement is signed." That would be simpler, more satisfying, more compelling. But that is not what the sources allow us to assert. "Progress" is real. "Signed agreement" is not yet. The truth lies in that uncomfortable space between hope and reality. And that is where this story is being decided.

A signal for Beijing, Tehran and Pyongyang

The SCALP license negotiations send a message that goes far beyond Franco-Ukrainian relations. They signal to China, Iran, and North Korea — all of which support, to varying degrees, Russia's war effort — that the West is prepared to go further in supporting Ukraine than they anticipated. A SCALP agreement would constitute a stronger signal of Western resolve than any diplomatic communiqué.

China is closely monitoring the consolidation of Western support for Ukraine to draw lessons for its own positioning regarding Taiwan. The more the West demonstrates it can build durable industrial partnerships with threatened democracies, the more clearly the cost of a Chinese aggression against Taiwan comes into focus in Beijing's calculations. SCALP missiles in Ukraine are not only a weapon against Russia — they are a message for China.

The Ukrainian model as an emerging Western doctrine

What is gradually taking shape — through license agreements, industrial partnerships, Brave France programs, and British defence plans — is a new Western doctrine of support for threatened democracies. This doctrine is not limited to weapons deliveries; it integrates production capacity transfer, technology sharing, and industrial co-design. It transforms the recipient of a one-off military aid package into a defence partner capable of meeting its own needs over time.

This doctrine is more robust, more durable, and more deterrent than the model of hand-me-down equipment deliveries that the West practiced at the start of the conflict. It represents a longer-term commitment — one of a sovereign Ukraine, armed and integrated into Europe's security architecture. And the SCALP missiles assembled in Kyiv, if they become reality, would be its most powerful symbol.

I often think about Ukraine in 2030. Not romantically, but strategically. If the license agreements materialize, if domestic missile and drone production continues to grow, if integration into the European defence industry deepens — Ukraine in 2030 will be a first-class military-industrial actor in Europe. That is not what Putin had planned for February 24, 2022.

An arc of support from Scandinavia to the Mediterranean

The Gripen E agreement with Sweden and the SCALP negotiations with France are not isolated. They fit into a European arc of support for Ukraine that, since Finland and Sweden joined NATO, now stretches from the shores of the Baltic to the coasts of the Mediterranean. Each country brings its specialties: France its cruise missiles, Sweden its fighters, Denmark its financing model, Norway its maritime missile systems. Together they form a capability chain that none could provide alone.

This distributed architecture is also a form of protection for Ukraine: no single government decision can cut off all support. Even if the United States under Trump reduced its aid, the European network would compensate for part of the shortfall. And even if France went through a domestic political crisis slowing SCALP negotiations, the rest of the chain would keep functioning. Diversifying partnerships is a resilience strategy as much as an acquisition strategy.

Finland as a model NATO member

Finland, bordering Russia over 1,300 kilometers and a NATO member since 2023, watches the war in Ukraine with particular sharpness. It maintains a strong national defence industry, a military reserve of 280,000 personnel, and a total defence doctrine forged by decades of risky coexistence with its Russian neighbor. It has tracked production license negotiations closely — and some Finnish experts have expressed hope that Ukraine, if it secures these licenses, could become a full defence industrial partner for the Nordic nations.

Swedish military intelligence chiefs have been among the clearest on the long-term Russian threat: "The Russian threat will outlast Putin," declared the head of Swedish military intelligence in July 2026, according to the Kyiv Independent. This long-term vision — Russia as a structural, not merely conjunctural, threat — is what drives Nordic defence investment decisions. And it is the same vision that makes SCALP licenses for Ukraine so important: not just for this war, but for the decade ahead.

Nordic countries have something great powers sometimes forget: memory. The memory of what it costs to live alongside Russia, to negotiate with it, to trust it — and then to watch it invade its neighbors. That memory makes the Finns, the Swedes, the Norwegians, the Estonians the best allies Ukraine could have. They understand without explanation what Kyiv feels.

Three levels of significance

The SCALP license negotiations between France and Ukraine operate simultaneously on three levels. At the operational level, they represent the promise of an autonomous deep-strike capability for the Ukrainian army, independent of political fluctuations in Paris or Washington. At the industrial level, they illustrate Ukraine's growing integration into the European defence industrial base — a process that becomes irreversible once set in motion. At the geopolitical level, they signal to Russia, China, Iran, and North Korea that the West is prepared to invest in Ukraine's security beyond electoral cycles.

The word "progress" pronounced by Fedorov on June 29, 2026 is small. But in the context of this war, it is immense. It encapsulates months of discreet diplomacy, bilateral summit meetings, technical negotiations between defence law specialists and MBDA engineers. It reflects the transformation of a delivery relationship into a partnership. And it opens the door to a reality that would have seemed impossible three years ago: French missiles assembled on Ukrainian soil, to defend Ukrainian sovereignty.

The open question

But "progress" is not "agreement." And that space between the two is precisely where history is being written. When Fedorov says "too early to conclude," he is also saying: the decision does not belong to him alone. It belongs to Macron, to his ministers, to MBDA, to the lawyers who will negotiate intellectual property clauses, and ultimately to the sustained political will of the West to see Ukraine survive and prosper. That will is there. For now. It must remain so long enough for the ink to dry on an agreement that would redraw the map of this war — and perhaps of Europe entire.

I will end with this: missiles do not decide wars on their own. The men and women who manufacture them, program them, fire them — and who accept the risk that entails — they are the ones who decide. And what I see in these SCALP negotiations is men and women on both sides who have decided that Ukraine deserves the West's best weapons. Not as a gift. As a partnership. That shift may be the most important of all.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist

Editorial stance

I am not a journalist but a columnist and analyst. My expertise lies in observing and analysing the geopolitical, economic and strategic dynamics that shape our world. My work is to take political strategies apart, to understand global economic movements, to put the decisions of international actors in context and to offer analytical perspectives on the changes that are redefining our societies.

I do not claim the cold objectivity of traditional journalism, which stops at reporting facts. I claim analytical clarity, rigorous interpretation and a deep understanding of the complex issues that concern us all. My role is to give meaning to the facts, to place them in their historical and strategic context, and to offer a critical reading of events.

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This text keeps the basic distinction between verified facts and interpretive analysis. The rule never changes: a factual claim is published only when a verifiable source supports it, and the sources this article actually used are listed under Sources, never here.

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Nature of the analysis

The analyses, interpretations and perspectives in the analytical sections of this article are a critical, contextual synthesis based on the information available, the trends observed and the expert comments cited in the sources consulted.

My role is to interpret these facts, to set them in the context of today's geopolitical and economic dynamics, and to give them a coherent meaning within the larger story of the changes shaping our time. These analyses reflect expertise built through continuous observation of international affairs and an understanding of the strategic mechanisms that drive global actors.

This article describes a documented state of affairs on its publication date, not a prediction: later developments may shift its outlook. No update is promised in advance; when an article is corrected or completed, the change is dated in the text.