TESTIMONY: Belgium Delivers 7 F-16s to Ukraine — The Decision That Changes the Air Game

The NATO Conference and Francken's Announcement

On June 18, 2026, at the NATO Defence Ministers' meeting in Brussels, Belgian Defence Minister Theo Francken announced a commitment that landed like a radical update to the timeline of Western support for Ukraine: Belgium will deliver 7 F-16s in 2026, of which 3 are fully combat-operational and 4 are earmarked for spare parts. That number may seem modest in isolation. In context, it is anything but: Belgium had until then been one of the slowest donors in the F-16 coalition for Ukraine, having repeatedly postponed its first deliveries since 2024. This announcement marks a gear shift that, extrapolated over the coming years, will transform Belgium into the largest single donor of F-16s to Ukraine.

Theo Francken's announcement goes well beyond the 7 aircraft of 2026. It is part of a complete delivery plan: 7 in 2026, 5 in 2027, 14 in 2028, 27 in 2029, for a total of 53 F-16s transferred to Ukraine by 2029. That figure represents a spectacular increase over the 30 aircraft previously announced by Belgium. And it repositions this nation of 11 million people — host to both NATO and the European Union — as a leading player in military air support for Kyiv.

What strikes me is the quiet way this announcement was made — at a defence ministers' meeting, without a major press conference, without any fanfare. Belgium commits to giving 53 F-16s to Ukraine and it barely makes the front pages of the mainstream press. Perhaps Ukraine receives so much support that every individual announcement disappears into the ambient noise. Perhaps, too, we have grown so accustomed to the war that we can no longer measure the weight of each decision.

The Transition to F-35s: The Key to the Delay

To understand why Belgium had not yet delivered its F-16s in 2025 — despite its pledges — you need to understand the logic of its own fleet transition. The Belgian Air Component has operated F-16 Fighting Falcons since the 1980s. In 2018, Belgium decided to replace them with Lockheed Martin F-35As — a purchase of 34 aircraft meant to modernize its air force for decades to come. The rule was simple: the F-16s could only be transferred to Ukraine once the F-35s were available to ensure the operational continuity of the Belgian air force. Handing over the F-16s before receiving the F-35s would have left Belgium without a credible combat air capability — unacceptable for a NATO member.

The first Belgian F-35s landed at Florennes air base in Wallonia in October 2025. That initial delivery opened the door for the first transfers of F-16s to Ukraine. But the timeline was still uncertain in early 2026 — a postponement in March 2025 had already delayed deliveries originally scheduled for the summer of 2025. The arrival of the F-35s at Florennes changed the parameters: Belgium could now begin transferring its aging fighters without compromising its own defense.

The March 2025 Delay and Its Cause

In March 2025, Belgium had officially postponed its F-16 deliveries to Ukraine, citing delays in Ukrainian pilot training programs and logistical complications. That postponement had provoked frustration in Kyiv, where Zelensky's government had been waiting for those air reinforcements for months. The decision drew criticism from several capitals, who saw it as a sign of insufficient resolve on the part of Brussels. The reality was more prosaic: Lockheed Martin was running behind on F-35 deliveries, and Belgium could not afford to be left without combat aircraft.

The landing of the first F-35s at Florennes in October 2025 removed that obstacle. And Francken's announcement on June 18, 2026 represents the materialization of the Belgian commitment within a timeline that is now defined and credible. This is no longer a conditional promise — it is a delivery plan with dates, figures, and solid logistical justification. In that respect, the wait — as frustrating as it was — at least produced a more solid commitment than what had originally been announced.

I understand Ukrainian frustration with the successive delays. But I also understand Belgium's reality: a country giving away its only combat aircraft can only do so once the replacement is assured. What I cannot understand is why the announcement of 53 F-16s total was not made back in 2024, with a clear timeline attached. Transparency would have spared two years of frustration and speculation.

The Operational Logic Behind the 3-4 Ratio

The breakdown of the 2026 delivery — 3 combat-operational F-16s and 4 destined for spare parts — reflects a reality that is often ignored in discussions about aircraft deliveries: aeronautical maintenance matters as much as the aircraft themselves. An F-16 in combat burns through parts at a high rate — turbines, hydraulic components, avionics systems, tires. Without a constant flow of spare parts, operational aircraft are quickly grounded. Ukraine, which already operates F-16s received from the Netherlands, Denmark, and Norway, has a chronic need for maintenance components to keep its fleet airworthy.

The 4 F-16s earmarked for spare parts are therefore not going to Ukraine to be flown — they are methodically stripped down to provide the components that will allow the 3 combat aircraft, and those already received from other donors, to keep flying. This is a pragmatic and intelligent approach. It acknowledges that the promise of aircraft is not enough unless it is accompanied by a viable logistics chain. And it reflects a maturity in managing the Ukrainian dossier that the early years of the conflict — when deliveries were often disorganized — had not always demonstrated.

What 3 Additional F-16s Actually Change in the Air Balance

Three additional combat-ready F-16s will not single-handedly change the outcome of a day of war. But they are part of an accumulation that, taken as a whole, is progressively transforming Ukraine's air position. Ukraine now has a growing number of operational F-16s — estimates range between 20 and 40 aircraft according to sources available in June 2026 — forming a real combat air force capable of interception, close air support, and deep-strike missions.

Every additional F-16 increases operational flexibility, the capacity for simultaneous missions, and resilience against inevitable combat losses. The Ukrainian air force has demonstrated its ability to use these aircraft effectively — rapidly integrating pilot experience, developing tactics adapted to the Ukrainian theatre, and exploiting the F-16's versatility for missions that the old Soviet MiG-29s and Su-27s could not perform. Three more aircraft, in that context, represent a concrete and meaningful increase in capability.

I remember the debates in 2022 over delivering Leopard tanks — "too dangerous," "too escalatory." Then the debates over long-range missiles. Then over F-16s. At each stage, the same argument, the same delays, the same cost in Ukrainian lives paid while the debates dragged on. Three operational F-16s in 2026 is better than zero. But the optimal moment to deliver them was two years ago.

The Scale-Up: 7, 5, 14, 27

The structure of the Belgian plan is remarkable: 7 in 2026, 5 in 2027, 14 in 2028, 27 in 2029. This acceleration reflects the progressive transition of the Belgian fleet to the F-35. The more operational F-35s Belgium receives, the more it can part with its F-16s — and the more deliveries to Ukraine will increase. The 27 aircraft planned for 2029 alone represent a major delivery that, if it materializes, will structurally transform the Ukrainian combat fleet.

For context: the 53 Belgian F-16s committed add to aircraft already promised or delivered by the Netherlands (24), Denmark (19), and Norway (22). Not counting less formalized commitments from other allies. The total number of F-16s destined for Ukraine now exceeds 100 aircraft, with a growing portion already on Ukrainian soil or in training pipelines. This is no longer a supplementary air force — it is the beginning of a credible tactical-scale combat force.

Belgium as the Largest Donor: A Major Symbolic Shift

With 53 F-16s committed, Belgium will become, by 2029, the largest individual donor of F-16s to Ukraine. This shift in status carries symbolic significance that goes beyond the numbers. Belgium is the host country of NATO and most institutions of the European Union — its strong commitment to Ukraine sends a political signal to other members of those organizations. It says that the home of NATO does not merely host meetings — it takes risks and assumes real costs in defending the values it proclaims.

That symbolic dimension is not secondary in the current context, where some NATO members — particularly in Eastern and Southern Europe — are watching closely to see whether the "old" Western members honor their commitments. Belgium, not historically perceived as a military leader in the Alliance, sends with this announcement a message about what genuine collective solidarity means in 2026.

53 F-16s. That is a number that would have seemed unthinkable in Belgian diplomatic circles three years ago, when Belgium struggled to justify even the smallest defense investment. Something has changed in Europe — and the war in Ukraine has a great deal to do with it. I do not know whether this change will last once the conflict ends. I hope so. I fear it will not.

Belgian Defence Doctrine Before and After 2022

Belgium was, before 2022, one of the most criticized NATO members for its underinvestment in defence. Its military budget hovered around 1% of GDP — far from the 2% target the Alliance has recommended for years — and its ageing air force had no convincingly decided replacement for its F-16s. The 2018 decision to purchase F-35s had been controversial, made in a difficult political context, and drew criticism over timelines and costs.

The 2022 Russian invasion changed that trajectory. Successive Belgian governments increased the defence budget, elevated the acceleration of F-35 deliveries in their diplomatic priorities, and — progressively — strengthened their commitments to Ukraine. This is not a complete transformation — Belgium remains a country that prefers consensus and diplomacy to direct military action. But it is a real, documented evolution that is now materializing in the commitment of 53 F-16s.

Theo Francken: The Man Who Changed the Belgian Equation

Theo Francken, Defence Minister since 2024, embodies this shift in tone in Belgian defence policy. A politician of the Nieuw-Vlaamse Alliantie (N-VA), a Flemish nationalist party, Francken is not the typical profile of a pro-Ukraine activist. But he has adopted a clear and consistent line on support for Ukraine — and the announcement of June 18, 2026 is his most significant delivery to date. His commitment goes beyond rhetoric: he has put in place the logistical conditions, negotiated the replacement F-35 delivery schedules, and built the internal political consensus necessary to make this commitment real.

Francken's presence at the NATO ministers' meeting in Brussels — in the very city where the Alliance is headquartered — to make this announcement is not incidental. It was a moment of chosen symbolism: Belgium, host of NATO, announcing at NATO headquarters a commitment that makes it the largest F-16 donor to Ukraine. It is a way of saying that the Alliance's host country is not merely a backdrop — it is an actor.

Francken is not the figure you would have imagined as the champion of support for Ukraine in Belgium. He is a right-wing nationalist politician in a country that often associates nationalism with isolationism. But sometimes wars produce unexpected alignments. And what matters here is not Francken's political labels — it is the aircraft he is delivering to Ukraine. Results matter more than the identity of those who produce them.

From Defence to Power Projection

The progressive arrival of F-16s in the Ukrainian air force — now fed by the Belgian commitment — fundamentally shifts the doctrine of combat aviation in Kyiv. Ukraine's old Soviet fighters — MiG-29s, Su-27s, Su-24s — were designed for specific Cold War missions, with avionics and weapons systems dating from the 1970s to 1990s. The F-16, even in its older variants (Block 20 and Block 30, which Ukraine is primarily receiving), represents a full generation ahead in navigation systems, targeting, electronic warfare, and integration with modern command and control networks.

That technological superiority translates in practice into an enhanced capacity to conduct suppression of enemy air defences (SEAD) missions, precision strikes on infrastructure, and interception of Russian missiles and drones. Ukrainian pilots who completed their F-16 training in the Netherlands, Denmark, and the United Kingdom have absorbed an operational doctrine that fully exploits these capabilities — with results already visible in operations during 2025 and 2026.

Munitions: The Real Force Multiplier

An F-16 without the right munitions is an incomplete platform. One of the critical challenges in delivering aircraft to Ukraine is supply of air-to-air missiles — notably the AIM-120 AMRAAM for long-range interception — and precision air-to-ground munitions — JDAM bombs, HARM missiles for radar suppression, AGM-158 JASSM cruise missiles. These munitions are not always included in aircraft delivery announcements, yet their availability directly conditions the operational effectiveness of Ukraine's F-16 fleet.

Belgium has not yet announced any specific delivery of air-to-air or air-to-ground munitions alongside its F-16s. This is an aspect of the dossier that Ukraine's partners will need to address explicitly: an aircraft without appropriate munitions cannot fulfill its mission. And in the context of the air war over Ukraine — where Russian aircraft drop glide bombs on cities and ballistic missiles strike infrastructure — the demand for long-range air-to-ground munitions is particularly urgent.

We talk about aircraft. We rarely talk about munitions. But an F-16 without missiles and precision bombs is a fast, expensive object that can do very little against a Russian glide bomb dropped from the safety of Russian airspace. The delivery of platforms must be accompanied by the delivery of the munitions that make them useful. This is not a logistical detail — it is the difference between a real capability and a hollow promise.

Zelensky and the Accumulation of Promises

Volodymyr Zelensky received the Belgian announcement with the formula that has been his habit for four years: warm thanks accompanied by a reminder of unmet needs. He thanked Theo Francken and the Belgian government for this commitment — by name, personally, on social media and in his nightly addresses — while noting that the need for air defence, munitions, heavy artillery, and additional combat aircraft remained critical. This posture of an Ukraine simultaneously grateful and still asking is sometimes misread from the outside. It is not ingratitude. It is the reality of a country fighting for its survival that knows each delivery, however welcome, still does not close all the gaps.

What Zelensky knows better than anyone is that promises do not automatically translate into operational capabilities. The 7 F-16s of 2026 will arrive at a pace conditioned by the availability of the Belgian aircraft, the progression of Ukrainian pilot training on those specific variants, and logistical maintenance capacity. The 3 combat aircraft will become operational after a verification and integration period within existing units. That lead time is irreducible — but in a war where every week counts, every delay must be optimized to the maximum.

Ukrainian Pilots: A Training Program That Continues

Training of Ukrainian pilots on F-16s began in 2023 — first under uncertain conditions with improvised programs, then in increasingly structured ways as European partners put formal curricula in place. By 2026, the Ukrainian air force has a cohort of F-16-qualified pilots, with a continuous training program regularly producing new aviators capable of taking the controls of the Belgian aircraft. The question is no longer whether Ukraine can operate F-16s — it has proven that. The question is how quickly it can absorb new aircraft without degrading the operational quality of its force.

Estimates of absorption capacity vary, but combat aviation experts generally agree that an air force can integrate 5 to 10 new aircraft per month under wartime conditions without compromising safety and operational effectiveness. At the pace planned by Belgium, the deliveries are compatible with that absorption capacity — which is good news. The risk, then, is not a glut of hardware but a persistent deficit against the real needs of the front.

I spare a thought for the Ukrainian pilots who will fly these Belgian F-16s. They are men — and probably some women — who learned to fly in peacetime on Soviet MiGs, who found themselves fighting a war with those same aircraft against a numerically superior Russian air force, and who had to relearn how to fly the F-16 — an entirely different technology and doctrine — knowing they would return to combat in these new aircraft. That is a form of professional courage that statistics cannot capture.

A Rearming Europe: Belgium Within the Continental Dynamic

The Belgian announcement sits within a broader dynamic: the accelerated European rearmament since 2022. European NATO members have increased their defence budgets by proportions unseen since the end of the Cold War. Poland is approaching 4% of GDP on defence. Germany unlocked a special fund of 100 billion euros. The Baltic states are on the front line of defensive reinforcement. And even countries historically disinclined toward military engagement — like Belgium — have meaningfully altered their course.

This transformation is not yet complete. Many European armies remain under-equipped, under-stocked on ammunition, and insufficiently prepared for a prolonged high-intensity conflict. But the direction is clear: Europe is progressively waking up to the fact that it cannot eternally delegate its security to the United States, and that the war in Ukraine is a wake-up call, not an isolated anomaly. Belgium's commitment of 53 F-16s is one brick in this edifice of European rearmament — modest in isolation, significant in aggregate.

The Question of Remaining Capabilities After Deliveries

One question deserves to be asked: after delivering 53 F-16s to Ukraine, will Belgium have enough operational F-35s to maintain its own defensive credibility? The answer depends on the delivery schedule of the 34 F-35As ordered — a schedule that remains subject to Lockheed Martin's production capacity and allocation priorities among the many buyer countries. If F-35 deliveries fall behind — as is often the case with programs of this complexity — Belgium could find itself in a transition period with fewer operational aircraft than would be desirable for a NATO member.

This tension between generosity toward Ukraine and maintaining a credible national defence capability is real for all European donors. It is not an excuse to delay deliveries — it is a constraint that military planners must manage transparently. And in the Belgian case, Francken's announcement shows that this management is achievable when the political will is present: the commitment of 53 F-16s was structured precisely to avoid compromising Belgian operational capability at each stage of the process.

The question of Belgium's remaining capabilities was raised by a reader in a previous discussion. It is a legitimate question. A Belgium without credible combat aircraft is bad news for NATO, even if the gesture toward Ukraine is commendable. The structure of the plan — a progressive rollout calibrated to F-35 deliveries — shows this tension was taken into account. That is good planning. I cannot say the same for every Ukrainian delivery dossier of recent years.

What This Delivery Will Tell History

In a few years — ten, twenty, perhaps fewer — when historians write about Western support for Ukraine, the Belgian commitment of 53 F-16s will be an entry in their inventory. Not necessarily the largest. Not necessarily the most decisive. But an entry that will testify that a medium-sized country, whose recent history was not that of a military leader, chose to take its responsibilities seriously when the moment came. That is what defence decisions mean, at their core: not just numbers in a budget or aircraft in a hangar — but moral choices that define what a country is willing to do to defend the values it proclaims.

Belgium has long been seen as a symbol of European bureaucracy more than a strategic actor. Theo Francken's announcement on June 18, 2026 helps to change that perception. It is not a complete transformation — a commitment of 53 aircraft, however significant, does not make Belgium a major military power. But it says that the host country of NATO can also be a player, not merely a stage. And that difference matters.

The Impact on Ukrainian Morale: The Accumulation of Support Counts

Beyond the direct military value of the 7 F-16s of 2026, the Belgian announcement carries a psychological and moral impact on Ukraine that must not be underestimated. Every additional commitment of support — every arms delivery, every financial aid program, every sanctions vote — is a message addressed to Ukrainian soldiers in their trenches: you are not alone. We are here. We will not abandon you. This message, repeated by dozens of countries over years, constitutes a form of moral support whose strategic value is difficult to quantify but impossible to ignore.

Zelensky understands this — which is why he thanks every donor personally, publicly, in every speech. This is not mere diplomatic courtesy — it is a deliberate strategy to sustain the support coalition, to value the contributions of each partner, and to signal to Ukrainian soldiers that the world is watching and standing with them. Belgium's commitment of 53 F-16s, in this context, carries a value that goes beyond its purely military dimension. It is an act of confirmed, concrete, and lasting solidarity.

I read Zelensky's statement thanking Belgium. There was a fatigue in his writing — the fatigue of a man who has been saying thank you for four years, who knows that every thank you should be followed by "but I still need more." I hold no grudge. I owe him admiration instead: maintaining this coalition, one thank-you at a time, for four years of war, is diplomatic work of an intensity few leaders in the world would have been able to sustain.

Maintenance, Training, and Integration: The Indispensable Triptych

The delivery of the Belgian F-16s can only be fully effective if it is accompanied by three fundamental elements. First, maintenance: the 4 spare-parts aircraft included in the 2026 delivery are a good start, but a growing combat fleet needs a structured maintenance chain — trained technicians, testing equipment, and long-term logistics support contracts. Second, continuing training: already-qualified Ukrainian pilots must regularly update their skills on the new variants received, and new pilots must constantly enter the training pipeline to replace those who will inevitably be lost in combat.

Third, doctrinal integration: the Belgian F-16s, with their specific avionics systems and particular weapons configurations, must be integrated into Ukrainian operational doctrine in a manner coherent with the Dutch, Danish, and Norwegian aircraft already in service. This integration is not automatic — it requires joint exercises, shared procedures, interoperable communications protocols. This is the invisible work that conditions the actual effectiveness of Ukraine's entire F-16 fleet.

Air Defences: The Permissive Condition for F-16 Operations

The F-16s, however modern they are compared to the Soviet aircraft they replace, remain vulnerable to Russia's most advanced air defence systems — notably the S-400 and the long-range air-to-air missiles carried by Russian Su-35s and Su-57s. The effective use of Ukrainian F-16s therefore requires that Russian air defences be systematically degraded — through Ukrainian strikes on S-400 batteries, through suppression of guidance radars using HARM missiles, and through precise airspace management that avoids exposing aircraft to the most dangerous threats.

This is a permanent balancing act that demands real-time intelligence, close coordination between ground crews and airborne pilots, and a solid self-protection doctrine. The Ukrainian air force has developed these capabilities — painfully, through losses — since 2022. It continues to refine them. And the Belgian F-16s will arrive into an air force that has learned to survive and fight in one of the most dangerous aerial environments in the world.

I sometimes think about the Ukrainian pilots who will fly these Belgian F-16s. They will know these aircraft belonged to Belgium. They may even know which base operated them — Florennes, Kleine-Brogel. There is something strangely human about the chain of custody that connects a donor country, its military, its aircraft, and the pilots who will take them in hand to defend their homeland. That connection deserves to be named.

What the F-16 Coalition Has Taught Europe About Defence Cooperation

The coalition of F-16 donors for Ukraine — Netherlands, Denmark, Norway, Belgium, with others possible — is an unprecedented exercise in international coordination for arms transfer. Coordinating different variants of the same aircraft, non-interchangeable spare parts between variants, training programs across multiple countries, munitions specific to each configuration — all of this required a coordination infrastructure that did not exist at the outset. It was built on the fly, under the pressure of war, with results that were not perfect but that worked.

This experience — imperfect, costly, sometimes chaotic — is a precious lesson for European defence. It shows that military cooperation between European countries can work when the political will is sufficient, even without a pre-established formal infrastructure. It also shows the limits of this improvisation: the next time similar cooperation is needed, it would be far better to have protocols in place in advance. And there is little doubt that there will be a next time.

Toward a European Doctrine of Arms Transfer: The F-16 Model

The experience of the F-16 coalition could become the model for a formalized European doctrine of arms transfer in times of conflict. Such a doctrine would define in advance the coordination mechanisms, shared maintenance protocols, common training programs, and rules for declassification and equipment transfer. It would reduce the delays and inefficiencies that characterized the early years of the F-16 program for Ukraine. And it would send a clear deterrent signal: the next time a hostile actor attacks a European partner, the response will be faster, better coordinated, and more effective.

This may be the most enduring lesson of the war in Ukraine for European defence: military cooperation is not a peacetime luxury. It is a strategic necessity that must be prepared, rehearsed, and institutionalized before the crisis arrives — not hastily built under fire. Belgium's commitment of 53 F-16s is one brick in this edifice. Many more will be needed.

A European doctrine of arms transfer. That sounds bureaucratic, put that way. But what I am trying to describe is simply this: the next time a European democracy is attacked, we will not have to reinvent the wheel of military coordination under pressure. We will have the protocols, the contacts, the logistics chains. That is the kind of unglamorous preparation that saves lives. Belgium and its F-16 partners have begun to build it. It needs to be finished.

The Symbolic Coherence of an Announcement Made in Brussels

There is a benevolent irony in the fact that the announcement of the delivery of 53 Belgian F-16s to Ukraine was made precisely in Brussels — the city that houses NATO headquarters and most institutions of the European Union. Brussels is often cited as the symbol of a Europe that deliberates more than it acts, that produces communiqués more than decisions. Theo Francken's announcement before his Alliance counterparts contradicts that cliché — at least for one day. The city that symbolizes European bureaucracy was the site of a concrete and meaningful military commitment. That is not nothing.

For the NATO members in the room — countries that themselves struggle to meet the 2% of GDP defence spending target — the Belgian announcement creates implicit pressure. If Belgium, traditionally one of the least-spending members of the Alliance, commits to delivering 53 fighters to Ukraine, what are the reasons for others not to do the same? This emulation — not yet explicit, not formalized — is one of the most useful side effects of the Belgian commitment. It raises the bar for everyone.

What the Belgian Commitment Asks of Other NATO Members

The commitment of 53 F-16s indirectly poses a question to every NATO member that still has transferable aircraft: what are you waiting for? The Netherlands, Denmark, and Norway showed the way. Belgium is now joining them with a larger commitment than any of theirs. Other European countries that operate or have operated F-16s — notably Portugal and Greece — have made more limited pledges. And the United States itself has not yet announced a direct delivery of its own reserve F-16s, despite having them in quantity.

This group pressure — visible but unspoken — is one of the most powerful mechanisms in the policy of support for Ukraine. Every country that commits more than expected creates a new reference point. And the Belgian announcement of June 18, 2026 will have been, in that mechanism, a tipping point: from now on, any announcement below the Belgian commitment will be perceived as less generous than what even Belgium proved capable of doing. That is not a comfortable position for the capitals that are still holding back.

I wondered whether Francken's announcement in Brussels was deliberately chosen for its symbolic setting. I cannot answer that question without speculating. But I note that politicians making important announcements rarely choose their words and venues by accident. Brussels, home of NATO, to announce that you are becoming the largest F-16 donor to Ukraine — there was a narrative intent there that the Belgian Defence Minister could not have been unaware of.

Four Years of Contested Russian Air Superiority

To understand what the Belgian F-16s mean within the arc of the Ukrainian air war, you need to go back to February 2022. On the first day of the invasion, military experts unanimously predicted that Russia would establish air superiority within 24 to 72 hours. It did not. The combination of a resilient Ukrainian air defence, a Russian air force less capable than its theoretical specifications, and Russia's lack of preparation for suppression-of-defences operations produced one of the most surprising results of this war: four years of aerial contestation in a theatre where Russian dominance had been taken for granted.

In that context, the F-16s arrived not as a miracle solution but as a force multiplier within an already established dynamic. Ukrainian pilots had proved, with their obsolete MiG-29s and Su-27s, that they could hold their own against a theoretically superior Russian air force. With the F-16s, they now have more modern tools to do the same — more effectively, with less risk, and with reach extending to missions the old Soviet aircraft could not perform.

From Resistance to Strike Force: The Doctrinal Evolution

The progressive integration of F-16s into the Ukrainian air force corresponds to a major doctrinal evolution: the transition from an essentially defensive air arm — whose priority was to survive and defend its own territory against Russian missiles — to a force capable of projecting offensive power deep into enemy territory. The Ukrainian strikes on Russian territory, whose scale has been growing since 2025, owe part of their effectiveness to the air cover and targeting capabilities that F-16s provide.

This transformation is not complete — and the 53 Belgian F-16s, delivered over four years, will accelerate this process without completing it on their own. But the strategic intention is clear: Ukraine wants an air force capable not only of defending its airspace but of imposing growing costs on Russia deep in its own territory — air pressure that complements the ground pressure of drone strikes and maritime pressure in the Black Sea. The Belgian F-16s fit squarely within that ambition.

I revisit in memory the images of the first Ukrainian MiG-29s in 2022 — aircraft designed in the 1970s, flown by men who knew they were taking off into conditions where their statistical survival was unlikely. And I now see F-16s, aircraft of another generation, arriving from Europe. The distance covered in four years is dizzying. So is the price paid to cover it.

European Training Centres: A Network That Worked

The training of Ukrainian pilots on F-16s took place across several European countries — primarily the Netherlands, Denmark, and the United Kingdom — through structured programs that had to constantly adapt to the realities of combat. Training a fighter pilot is not a matter of a few months: it requires hundreds of flight hours, mastery of weapons systems, familiarization with tactical doctrine, and integration into the ground crews handling maintenance and logistics support. All of this had to be built for Ukrainian pilots who did not always speak fluent English, who had Soviet-trained foundations to unlearn, and who knew they would return to one of the most dangerous combat environments in the world.

The fact that this training worked — that Ukrainian pilots took the controls of F-16s and used them effectively in combat — is one of the most remarkable military cooperation achievements of recent years. It was not flawless. Accidents occurred. Delays were incurred. Incompatibilities had to be overcome. But it produced real results in a remarkably short timeframe. And the pilots who take the controls of the Belgian F-16s will benefit from everything learned in that first phase of training.

The Instructors: An Under-Recognized Human Commitment

Behind the aircraft delivery numbers are men and women — officers of the Belgian, Dutch, Danish, and British air forces — who spent months training Ukrainian pilots. These instructors do not make the front pages. Their names do not appear in press releases. Yet their work is as important as the delivery of the aircraft themselves. An F-16 without a trained pilot to fly it is a costly piece of metal. A trained pilot who masters his aircraft is a real force multiplier.

This human dimension of support for Ukraine — the training, the advising, the real-time intelligence sharing — is often eclipsed by equipment delivery announcements. It deserves recognition. The European instructors who passed their knowledge on to Ukrainian pilots contributed to Ukraine's defence just as surely as the politicians who signed the delivery contracts. And their commitment — voluntary, professional, often carried out under a discretion demanded by their own governments — is a form of concrete solidarity that Ukraine will remember.

I did not have access to the instructors who trained Ukrainian pilots on F-16s. Their accounts are not public, for understandable reasons. But I can imagine them — air force instructors accustomed to the discipline of peacetime procedures, confronted with students who know they will return to the front within months. That human encounter, between the rigor of training and the urgency of war, must have been intense. I would have liked to be able to tell that story.

Choosing Consistency Over Comfort

Belgium could have stopped at 53 F-16s and kept to its originally promised 30 aircraft — a more comfortable commitment, less politically costly, less diplomatically exposed. It chose to do more. Not because international law required it. Not because irresistible pressure was applied. But because, collectively, a government decided that the values it proclaimed demanded actions proportional to those values. It is this consistency — between speeches and deliveries, between principles and concrete sacrifices — that is the essence of genuine solidarity.

Ukraine needs F-16s. Belgium has them. It is delivering them. It is, at bottom, that simple. And in a world where diplomatic complexity is often invoked to justify inaction, that simplicity carries a refreshing moral clarity. 53 F-16s by 2029 will not win the war on their own. But they will contribute to an accumulation of capabilities that makes Ukrainian victory increasingly probable — and capitulation increasingly unthinkable. That is the meaning of this commitment. And that meaning deserves to be clearly acknowledged.

What This Testimony Will Retain of This Moment

What I will take from Theo Francken's announcement of June 18, 2026 is the image of a man who, in a Brussels conference room, announced a number — 53 — that says something important about what Europe is still capable of deciding when it truly makes up its mind. Not the grand heroic gesture. Not the spectacular sacrifice. Just a concrete, quantified, planned commitment that respects its own constraints while pushing past its initial limits. This is the kind of defence policy that does not make front pages — and that nonetheless, quietly, shapes history.

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.

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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.

I was not in that meeting room in Brussels on June 18. I did not hear Francken speak those words. I read them in a press release, like most people. And yet, reading those figures — 7 this year, 5 next year, 14, 27, 53 in total — I felt something I would not easily have been able to name. Something between relief and pride for a continent that, slowly, painfully, is learning to be equal to what it claims to be. It is still not enough. But it is a beginning that deserves to be recognized.