The Silent Airlift
How Fighter Jets Are Joining the Belt and Road
Is China’s global trade network quietly building the world’s next-generation military supply chains?
The ink is barely dry on reports that Iran is finalising the purchase of over 40 Chengdu J-10C fighter jets from China, a move that marks far more than a simple arms sale. It signals a calculated deepening of the economic and strategic ties quietly reshaping the map of Asia and beyond, all under the broad umbrella of the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI).
This development takes on new weight in the context of the recent escalation between Iran and Israel. With both nations exchanging airstrikes and drone attacks in a conflict that has shown how quickly the region can slide towards open warfare, Iran's modernisation of its air force through Chinese platforms becomes more than a matter of prestige. It's about survival, deterrence, and rebalancing the skies over one of the world's most volatile regions.
This is playing out against an even broader backdrop of military escalation worldwide. Russia's war in Ukraine has upended assumptions about European security, drawn NATO deeper into Eastern Europe, and shattered the illusion of distant wars having no knock-on effects. In response, NATO member states have made an unprecedented commitment to increase defence spending to 5% of GDP, recognising that modern deterrence isn't theoretical, it's an immediate, structural requirement.
It is in this climate of uncertainty, militarisation, and strategic realignment that Iran's alignment with Chinese defence supply chains fits neatly. As other blocs double down on rearmament, nations along the Belt and Road, many historically cut off from Western defence markets, are forging new pathways to modern military capability, with China as both supplier and strategic partner.
The J-10C, one of China’s most advanced multirole fighter platforms, has already proven itself as a key export to Pakistan, where dozens of these jets now form the backbone of Islamabad’s air defence. Pakistan’s recent flare-up with India along the disputed Kashmir border — where both sides have conducted aggressive posturing, drone incursions, and cross-border artillery fire — has highlighted just how essential modern air capabilities have become for countries navigating complex security environments.
For both Tehran and Islamabad, the decision to align with China’s defence supply chains is as much about strategic necessity as it is about economics. Fighter jets may not feature on glossy BRI brochures, but they fit neatly into its strategic logic. Trade routes require security. Ports and pipelines are only as useful as the stability of the airspace above them. In that sense, Iran's acquisition of the J-10C, like Pakistan’s before it, is a natural extension of the infrastructure-driven partnerships China has fostered across the region, and a direct response to the real-world conflicts both countries face.
But the sale is not just about aircraft. Alongside the jets come Chinese technicians, spare parts pipelines, weapons integration support, and training programmes that anchor Iran’s defence posture ever closer to Beijing’s sphere of influence. Maintenance hubs, technical support facilities, and data links will follow, much as they have in Pakistan, where Chinese personnel and logistical infrastructure have become permanent fixtures.
Iran's deal is, in many ways, the next logical phase of the model China pioneered with Pakistan. The two nations share more than geography; they now share overlapping defence supply chains and a deepening reliance on Chinese technology to underpin their military capabilities. The spillover benefits of these arrangements, from technical education to industrial capacity, may well ripple into the civilian sector, subtly lifting regional capabilities.
Beyond the immediate military advantages, the Iran-China fighter deal strengthens the web of strategic infrastructure that stretches from East Asia to the Gulf. With Chinese-built ports in Sri Lanka, Pakistan's Gwadar port, and growing footprints in East Africa, the map begins to reveal a pattern. Iran's airspace, once modernised under Chinese technical guidance, plugs directly into this expanding network.
It also raises the prospect of enhanced coordination between Iran and Pakistan. With both nations operating Chinese platforms, achieving interoperability becomes easier. Spare parts, software upgrades, and joint training exercises can be shared, creating efficiencies and, crucially, strengthening China's ability to sustain influence along critical energy and trade corridors.
Of course, this evolution doesn't happen in isolation. Western policymakers will watch nervously, recognising that China's growing military footprint is increasingly intertwined with its economic outreach. The Iran-China fighter deal, coming on the heels of Russia's war in Ukraine and NATO's unprecedented 5% GDP defence spending pledge, reflects a world no longer defined by one dominant power bloc but by competing, overlapping zones of influence.
But for many nations along the BRI, these developments represent something else entirely: long-awaited access to advanced technology, technical infrastructure, and, however unevenly, a means of rebalancing a global system that for decades concentrated military-industrial advantage in the hands of a few.
The Belt and Road has always been about more than just ports and railways. The Iran-China fighter deal makes that abundantly clear. Infrastructure is no longer confined to roads and cranes; it extends to airpower, logistics, and the silent, sustained flow of technical expertise. In a world fractured by new alliances, proxy conflicts, and the scramble for deterrence, the question is not whether this pattern will continue, it's how many more pieces of the map it will quietly, irreversibly reshape along the way.