The Real Risk Is Not Tejas Crashing – It’s HAL Moving Too Slowly
The recent dip in HAL’s share price after a Tejas training accident is a textbook case of misplaced panic. Predictable anxiety over a runway overshoot and a temporarily grounded fleet has dominated the headlines, but these are just the surface-level optics. In the high-stakes world of fighter jet development, hardware failures are a part of the process. The real scandal isn’t crashing of the plane; it is the glacial pace of the bureaucratic machine behind the aircraft. The vital question for India is whether our defense ecosystem can finally trade its slow habits for raw speed, real accountability, and massive industrial scale.
The Squadron Math India Cannot Ignore
The numbers are not just disappointing; they are dangerous. The IAF is supposed to have 42 fighter squadrons but is currently limping along with roughly 29. With the MiG-21 retired and the Jaguar fleet—a massive chunk of our strike power—facing retirement soon, we are heading toward a crisis. The Mirage 2000 is a great aircraft, but it cannot fly forever.
The Tejas was never supposed to be a small science project or just a matter of national pride. It was designed to be the backbone of Indian airpower. Yet, the Mk1 variant barely fills two squadrons, and Mk1A deliveries are already hitting delays. If the Jaguars retire before the Mk1A production line actually speeds up, our squadron strength could fall to the mid-20s. At that point, a training accident is the least of our worries—we are talking about a total collapse of India’s ability to defend its skies.
Aerospace Programs Always Stumble — Systems Fail When Institutions Move Slowly
No nation has ever built a world-class fighter without losing a few along the way. Even the Rafale and the Su-30MKI have seen crashes. Aviation is a brutal business that punishes the slightest error. However, successful nations are defined by how fast they recover. They investigate, they fix the problem, and they get back in the air immediately.
In India, the aircraft isn’t the primary failure point—it is the speed of work. The Mk1A ramp-up is stuttering. We hear the same excuses: supply chain issues, engine delays, and long testing cycles. When an institution moves this slowly, every small mechanical hiccup is magnified into a national crisis because we don’t have enough backup planes to absorb the loss.
HAL Is Structured Like a PSU, Not a Wartime Aerospace Command
The fundamental problem is that HAL still operates like a typical government office. It is a world of heavy paperwork, “business as usual” production targets, and accountability that is hard to pin down. While the private sector has been invited to help, it hasn’t been given a lead role in the factory.
Building fighter jets is not a routine manufacturing job; it requires a wartime mindset. In any serious nation, fighter production lines are treated as high-priority assets where delays have real consequences. Performance must be linked to national security, not administrative comfort. A single, slow entity cannot be allowed to hold the entire modernization of the IAF hostage to its own inefficiency.
Imports Are the Easy Escape, Not the Strategic Answer
The moment a Tejas has an issue, people start calling for more imports. Buy more Rafales. Look at foreign jets. It sounds like a quick fix for a bleeding wound.
But the reality is a cold shower. New Rafale orders would take years to reach India. Foreign platforms are not toys you buy off a shelf; they come with diplomatic strings attached and high costs. The long-pending plan to buy 114 foreign fighters (MRFA) has been stuck for years. Imports might lower our stress today, but they do nothing to build the domestic strength India needs. Walking away from Tejas now wouldn’t just be a waste of money; it would be a permanent surrender to foreign dependence.
What War-Footing Reform Actually Means
If we want this moment to be a turning point rather than a failure, the reform must be direct and immediate.
The Government of India must stop treating HAL like a protected department and start treating its fighter division like a high-performance engine under strict watch. Production targets of at least 16 to 24 aircraft per year must be non-negotiable. We must integrate private Indian firms directly into the assembly lines. Engine strategy needs long-term clarity, not year-by-year confusion. High-level reviews must track every delivery with total transparency.
This isn’t about causing alarm. This is about recognizing that every day HAL lags, India’s security risk grows.
The Choice Before India
We are at a crossroads. If Tejas production finally roars to life, India wins more than just a jet—it wins a future in aerospace. If HAL continues at its current slow pace, our squadron strength will continue to fall, forcing us into expensive, desperate imports that drain our budget and keep us weak.
The recent accident is a loud warning, not a final judgment. The Tejas may have stumbled, but abandoning it would be a strategic mistake. The real failure in this story isn’t a pilot overshooting a runway. The real failure is a system that stands still while our window of opportunity is closing.
The risk isn’t a crash. The risk is a slow-motion collapse of Indian airpower while we wait for a bureaucracy to find its pulse. If we treat this as routine business, we have already lost. If we treat it as a national security emergency, we might finally start flying.
