How Russia Lost the Skies: The Slow Collapse of a Superpower Air Force

When Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, one prediction was nearly universal: Ukraine’s airspace would fall within 72 hours. With more than 2,000 combat aircraft on paper, Russia’s air force looked like an unstoppable juggernaut.

Three years later, that myth lies in ruins.

Instead of dominating the skies, Russia’s most advanced jets are flying with commercial GPS units taped to their dashboards. Their elite pilots are being outmaneuvered by portable missiles that cost a fraction of Russia’s billion-dollar aviation fleet. And their modernization programs—meant to propel them into the 21st century—are collapsing in real time.

This is the story of how a supposed superpower’s air force began to fall apart.

The Shocking Beginning: A $100K Missile vs. a $50M Jet

On February 24th, 2022—the very first day of the invasion—a Ukrainian soldier armed with a U.S.-made Stinger missile shot down a Russian Su-30SM, one of Russia’s most sophisticated multirole fighters.

It should’ve been a fluke.

It wasn’t.

As the war progressed, open-source analysts confirmed aircraft losses in the hundreds. More than 10% of Russia’s pre-war fleet—gone. The air supremacy Russia was expected to achieve in days never materialized.

Because the problem isn’t luck or bad planning.

The problem is decades of rot that modern warfare has finally exposed.

Aging Hardware Held Together With Tape—Literally

The backbone of Russia’s air force still rests on Soviet-era airframes, many approaching—or surpassing—half a century in service.

Take the An-26 transport fleet:
Average age? 50 years old.

Russia keeps extending the lifespan of these aircraft not because they want to—but because they have nothing to replace them with. Sanctions and chronic underinvestment have crippled their ability to produce modern avionics and components.

That’s why credible images and reports now show Russian crews taping off-the-shelf GPS devices—the kind you’d buy at a consumer electronics store—onto the dashboards of Su-34 fighter-bombers.

A superpower that claims hypersonic weapons and nuclear parity can’t equip its jets with reliable navigation systems.

This isn’t just humiliating.
It’s dangerous.

Modernization Efforts: Dead on Arrival

Russia hasn’t just failed to modernize—it’s moving backward. Their attempt to revive the Cold War–era Tu-160 bomber program is a stark example. The plan was simple: refurbish old bombers to fill the capability gap left by stalled next-generation projects.

The reality is grim:
They’re flying deeper into the past because the future never arrived.

The Pilot Problem: Too Few Hours, Too Much Risk

Even perfect aircraft need skilled pilots. And here is where Russia faces one of its most crippling weaknesses.

Training a fully capable fighter pilot takes 7–8 years. But Russian pilots average only 100–120 flight hours per year—far below NATO’s 180-hour standard.

That difference is enormous. It’s the gap between a weekend hobbyist and a seasoned airline captain.

The consequences are visible on the battlefield:

• Russian missions are rigid and pre-scripted, directed heavily from the ground.

• When plans collapse—as they inevitably do in modern warfare—pilots struggle to adapt.

• Complex tasks like electronic warfare, precision strikes, and simultaneous threat management overwhelm less-experienced fliers.

Russia entered the war with underprepared pilots flying aging jets into some of the world’s most dangerous air-defense zones.

It went about as well as you’d expect.

A Doctrine Built for the Wrong War

For decades, Russia’s air force was designed with one core mission:
Defend the homeland.

Their doctrine centered around:

• Intercepting enemy bombers

• Protecting strategic airspace

• Supporting nuclear retaliation plans

What they didn’t build was an air force capable of large-scale offensive operations requiring sophisticated coordination with ground troops.

The invasion exposed this instantly.

On day one, Russia struck Ukraine’s known radar and air-defense sites. But Ukraine’s mobile SAM systems—capable of relocating in minutes—survived. Suddenly, Russian jets flying into contested airspace found themselves being picked off one by one.

Russia had two options:

1. Keep pressing forward and bleed aircraft at unsustainable rates

2. Admit they could not win the air war they had planned

By mid-2024, they quietly chose door #2.

A Tactical Shift That Reveals Strategic Failure

With air supremacy unattainable, Russia pivoted. Hard.

They began launching thousands of glide bombs per month from standoff distances up to 70 km. These bombs are devastating, flattening entire blocks without requiring Russian aircraft to fly over Ukrainian air defenses.

It’s destructive.
It’s brute-force.
And it’s effective—at a cost.

Because it also reveals something critical:

Russia cannot safely enter large portions of Ukraine’s airspace.

This isn’t dominance.
It’s a workaround.

A Superpower on Paper, a Hollow Force in Reality

Russia’s air force entered the war with a legacy of Cold War prestige and an intimidating roster of aircraft.

But war cares nothing for paper strength.

What matters is:

• Modern, reliable equipment

• Skilled, adaptable pilots

• A doctrine aligned with real-world missions

Russia is faltering on all three fronts.

And as the conflict grinds into yet another year, one question looms:

Can this hollowed-out force survive another year of high-intensity war?

The answer won’t just shape the skies over Ukraine.
It could reshape Europe’s security architecture for decades to come.