Russia is effectively putting the Su-75 Checkmate on hold, concentrating its resources on the Su-57, drones, and the defense of Moscow.
Executive Summary
The Su-75 Checkmate was intended to embody the Russian return to the light stealth fighter market. Five years after its unveiling at the MAKS 2021 air show, it remains above all a symbol of Moscow’s industrial limitations. The program has not been officially abandoned, but it is effectively frozen. No confirmed flights have demonstrated its maturity, despite repeated announcements of a first test in 2026. At the same time, Russia is concentrating its resources on the Su-57, Geran, Lancet, and FPV drones, as well as the defense of its critical infrastructure. The Ukrainian operation “Spiderweb,” carried out against several Russian airbases in June 2025, showed that even strategic bombers stationed far from the front lines were no longer safe. The urgent deployment of Pantsir-SMD-E systems on Moscow skyscrapers illustrates this shift: the Russian industry is no longer just preparing for the offensive. It is now protecting its rear.
The Su-75 Checkmate Has Become the Aircraft Moscow Can No Longer Fund
The Su-75 Checkmate was presented as a Russian response to the F-35 on the export market. The concept was attractive on paper: a single-engine stealth fighter, lighter than the Su-57, less expensive, equipped with an internal weapon bay, a reduced radar signature, and simplified maintenance. Rostec and United Aircraft Corporation had put forward a theoretical price of around $25 to $30 million per aircraft. The message was clearly aimed at India, Middle Eastern countries, North Africa, and historical clients of Russian aviation.
But the initial schedule very quickly lost its credibility. In 2021, Russia spoke of a first flight in 2023 and serial production around 2026. In 2026, the Su-75 has still not publicly proven that it is a mature flying prototype. Russian announcements still speak of upcoming tests. Specialized sources mention prototypes that are nearly ready. But the aircraft remains, for the most part, in a gray zone between an industrial mockup, a demonstrator in preparation, and a marketing tool.
This gridlock is not surprising. A stealth fighter is not just an elegant airframe and a promotional video. It requires a reliable engine, modern avionics, an AESA radar, ruggedized computers, radar-absorbent coatings, electronic warfare systems, mission software, and a supply chain capable of mass-producing it all. However, Russia is fighting a war of attrition, facing technological sanctions, and must replace significant losses in more urgent segments.
The Su-75 is therefore not officially dead. But it is effectively frozen. In a war economy, a program without immediate operational priority mechanically slips down the schedule. Moscow cannot do everything: support the war in Ukraine, modernize the Su-57, produce Su-34s and Su-35s, manufacture missiles, scale up drones, defend its cities, and finance a new light stealth fighter intended primarily for export.
The Su-57 Absorbs the Useful Share of Russian Stealth Aviation
Russia has not abandoned advanced combat aviation. It is simply concentrating its effort on the Su-57, a heavy, twin-engine aircraft that has already entered service with the VKS. The Su-57 remains produced in low volumes, but it offers Moscow a real capability that the Su-75 does not yet possess.
The aircraft is used with caution in the war against Ukraine. Russia avoids exposing it to dense surface-to-air defenses, which limits its visible operational impact. However, it serves as a stand-off launch platform, a technological showcase, and an export product. The Russian Ministry of Defense and UAC announced new deliveries to the VKS in 2026, featuring a modernized configuration focusing on onboard systems and weapons integration.
The export of the Su-57 is politically important. Russian officials indicated in 2025 that two aircraft had been delivered to an unnamed foreign customer. Several specialized sources and media outlets identified this customer as Algeria, without full and indisputable official confirmation from Moscow or Algiers. Images that appeared in early 2026 reinforced this hypothesis. If confirmed, Algeria would be the first export user of the Su-57E.
This delivery has strategic value. It shows that Russia can still sell a fifth-generation aircraft despite sanctions and the war. But it must not mask the industrial reality. The Su-57 continues to be produced in small quantities. Russian objectives long mentioned 76 aircraft by 2028, but this pace depends on Komsomolsk-on-Amur’s ability to maintain production rates, available engines, electronic components, and the financial stability of the program.
The priority given to the Su-57 makes the Su-75 even less indispensable. Russia prefers to invest in an aircraft that is already qualified, already armed, and already exportable, rather than dispersing its resources on a light fighter whose commercial prospects remain uncertain.
The War of Attrition Has Transformed Drones Into an Industrial Priority
The real Russian pivot is playing out in drones. Since 2022, Moscow has understood that drones are no longer a tactical supplement. They have become an industrial weapon. Their cost is low, their production can be dispersed, their attrition is acceptable, and their psychological impact is massive.
The Geran drones, derived from the Iranian Shahed family, have become a central tool for Russian strikes against Ukraine. They serve to saturate air defenses, exhaust Ukrainian missiles, strike energy infrastructure, and force Kyiv to disperse its assets. Russia combines them with cruise missiles, ballistic missiles, decoys, and reconnaissance drones. This architecture makes every attack more complex to intercept.
The numbers provide the measure of the shift. Analyses from 2026 indicate that Russia launched more than 6,400 Shahed, Geran, or associated decoy drones in the single month of March 2026, an average of more than 200 aircraft per day. Ukrainian sources mention Russian plans aiming for tens of thousands of long-range drones and decoys per year. These figures must be read with caution, as they often include decoys and production targets. But the trend is undeniable: Russia produces and deploys drones on an industrial scale.
The FPV drone follows the same logic. Russia has invested heavily in small attack drones, used against armor, infantry, logistics vehicles, and fortified positions. These systems cost very little compared to an anti-tank missile or guided aerial ammunition. They change the way a front line is held. A battalion that lacks drones becomes blind. A unit that has them in numbers can harass, interdict, observe, and correct artillery fire.
The Lancet remains the Russian symbol of the loitering munition. It is less massive than FPVs, but it offers a longer range and a striking capability against radars, howitzers, surface-to-air systems, and high-value vehicles. Russia is now seeking to combine these families: FPV for close range, Lancet for tactical depth, and Geran for strategic depth.
Operation Spiderweb Exposed the Weakness of Russian Bases
Operation Spiderweb marked a psychological turning point. On June 1, 2025, Ukrainian services led a coordinated attack against several Russian airbases using drones concealed in structures transported by trucks inside Russian territory. The targeted bases notably included Belaya, Dyagilevo, Ivanovo, and Olenya, very far from the front line.
The exact figures remain disputed. Kyiv claimed to have hit 41 Russian aircraft. American officials estimated that the number of destroyed aircraft was closer to a dozen, with around twenty aircraft damaged. Reuters confirmed, based on satellite imagery, damage to Russian bombers. Moscow acknowledged damage while asserting that the aircraft would be repaired.
The military truth likely lies between these versions. The exact number is not the main point. The main point lies elsewhere: Ukraine demonstrated that a nuclear air power could be struck at very great depth with relatively modest means. Tu-95MS and Tu-22M3 bombers, worth hundreds of millions of dollars and carrying strategic cruise missiles, were exposed to low-cost drones.
This attack changed the Russian interpretation of domestic defense. Airbases can no longer be protected by distance alone. Hangars, parking areas, fuel depots, runways, radars, and command centers are becoming vulnerable to distributed attacks. The threat can come from the sky, but also from within Russian territory itself, via clandestine networks, trucks, caches, or local operators.
For the VKS, the shock is profound. Russia has long conceived its geographic depth as a protection. Spiderweb showed that depth becomes relative when the adversary masterfully uses clandestine logistics, cheap drones, and precise intelligence.
The Defense of Moscow Becomes a Visible Priority
The deployment of Pantsir-SMD-E systems on buildings in Moscow illustrates this new reality. In late May 2026, videos and images showed the installation of a Pantsir-SMD-E system on the Nordstar Tower, a 42-story building located near the Begovaya station. The equipment was reportedly airlifted by a Mi-26. The symbol is powerful: a capital that claims to be protected by the thickness of its territory is installing anti-aircraft systems on its skyscrapers.
The Pantsir-SMD-E is a specialized evolution of the Pantsir family. Unlike the classic Pantsir-S1, it abandons the 30mm cannons and relies solely on missiles. Its function is the defense of sensitive points against drones, loitering munitions, cruise missiles, and certain rockets. It can receive standard missiles or mini-interceptors designed to increase firing capacity when facing drone swarms.
This evolution responds to an economic problem. Firing an expensive missile against a cheap drone is a bad equation. Mini-missiles seek to correct this imbalance. A system capable of carrying up to 48 light interceptors offers much better endurance against a saturating attack than a system limited to twelve classic missiles.
But high-rise installation also raises questions. A rooftop offers a clear field of view and reduces certain urban obstacles. It allows for the protection of official buildings, command centers, or sensitive infrastructure. But it also transforms civilian areas into visible military sites. It creates risks of falling debris. It exposes the population in the event of an interception over the city. The defense of Moscow is therefore an operational choice as much as a political message.
The Pantsir-SMD-E Shows the Forced Adaptation of Russian Industry
The Pantsir-SMD-E is not a simple variant. It reflects the rapid evolution of Russian air defense. The threat is no longer just the airplane, helicopter, or cruise missile. The most frequent threat is now the slow, small, numerous drone, sometimes flying very low, sometimes camera-guided, sometimes used as a decoy.
Classic defense systems are poorly suited to this saturation. A radar can detect a target. But if the attack includes fifty of them, twenty of which are decoys, priority management becomes difficult. A missile can shoot down a drone. But if the missile costs twenty or fifty times more than the target, the industrial equation becomes unfavorable. A battery can protect a site. But if the adversary strikes multiple sites simultaneously, batteries must be multiplied.
Russia is therefore attempting to create a multi-layered defense. The large S-300, S-400, and S-500 systems protect against aircraft,功 ballistic missiles, and certain long-range threats. The Buk and Tor cover intermediate levels. The Pantsir protects sensitive points. Electronic warfare systems seek to jam drones. Light assets, machine guns, nets, acoustic sensors, and mobile teams complete the package.
This adaptation is not unique to Russia. All armies are learning the same lesson. But Moscow is learning it under direct pressure, with Ukrainian drones regularly reaching refineries, depots, factories, and bases. Anti-drone defense is no longer a secondary sector. It is becoming a priority industrial segment.
The Russian Military Budget Forces a Choice Between Prestige and Yield
Russia dedicates massive resources to the war. SIPRI estimates indicate that military and war-related expenditures reached approximately 16 trillion rubles in 2025, or nearly 7.5% of GDP. The national defense budget planned for 2026 remains around 13 trillion rubles, even if transparency is limited and a large portion of the spending remains classified.
These figures are high. But they do not mean that Moscow can finance all its programs without trade-offs. The war consumes shells, missiles, armor, drones, spare parts, salaries, bonuses, repairs, and infrastructure. Every ruble invested in an experimental light stealth fighter is a ruble that does not go toward a munition, a drone, or site defense.
This is precisely where the Su-75 loses the battle. It offers prestige, but no immediate yield. A Geran drone can strike a target this year. A Pantsir-SMD-E can protect Moscow this week. A Su-57 can be delivered to a regiment or sold to a foreign customer. The Su-75, by contrast, promises a future market but still requires years of testing, qualification, and funding.
The war in Ukraine has thus changed the Russian industrial hierarchy. Before 2022, Moscow could present futuristic concepts to charm international exhibitions. In 2026, it must produce what is useful right now. The communication remains ambitious. The factory, however, follows the war.
The Russian Export Market Shifts Toward Systems of Attrition Warfare
The Su-75 was meant to be an export product. But the market has changed. Potential clients know that Russia is under sanctions, that payments are complicated, that spare parts may be exposed, and that schedules are uncertain. A country buying the Su-75 would take a heavy industrial risk on an aircraft that has not yet publicly flown.
The Su-57E, despite its limitations, is more credible. It flies. It is produced. It has an existing technological base. Algeria, if indeed it is the identified export customer, can accept a rare and political aircraft to reinforce its regional status. But the Su-57E will likely remain a niche market, reserved for a few countries capable of absorbing the costs, risks, and diplomatic consequences.
Drones and anti-drone defense offer Russia a broader market. Many states are looking for attack drones, loitering munitions, jammers, and anti-aircraft systems adapted to low-cost threats. The Pantsir-SMD-E responds directly to this demand. Russian drones, even if they still rely on foreign or bypassed components, demonstrate daily operational utility.
The paradox is clear. Russia wanted to sell a light stealth fighter to show that it remained a great aviation power. The war shows it that the most lucrative market may be elsewhere: in systems that are less noble, cheaper, more numerous, and more immediately useful.
Russia Enters a Defensive Era of Air Warfare
The effective freeze of the Su-75 does not mean the collapse of Russian aviation. It means a reorientation. The VKS remain a significant force. The Su-34, Su-35S, and Su-57 will continue to be produced or modernized. Long-range aerial missiles remain dangerous. Russian anti-aircraft defenses remain dense. But the ambition of a new light stealth fighter, designed for export markets and the post-war era, takes a back seat to immediate needs.
Russia is now building an air force adapted to a war of attrition. It prioritizes drones, missiles, the defense of sensitive points, stand-off strikes, and already available platforms. This logic is rational. It is also revealing. A country that must install Pantsir systems on the roofs of Moscow is not just projecting its power. It is protecting its political center against a threat it failed to prevent at the source.
The Su-75 will perhaps remain in speeches. It may appear again at an air show, in the form of an improved model or an export promise. It may even fly one day. But its strategic importance has already diminished. The war has shifted value: fewer stealth mockups, more mass-produced drones; fewer promises of a light fifth-generation, more interceptors on rooftops; less prestige, more protection.
This is the hardest lesson for Moscow. Modern warfare does not reward the one who presents the most beautiful aircraft. It rewards the one who produces quickly, protects its bases, replaces its losses, and imposes a daily cost on the adversary. For now, the Su-75 ticks none of these boxes.
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