A little after 8:00 pm on May 8, night skies above Jammu lit up as Indian air-defense batteries unleashed a barrage of tracer rounds and red flares into the darkness. The target: dozens of small unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) streaming southward from Pakistan. What began as a probing drone incursion quickly escalated into a pitched battle between rival air-defense radars and drone operators—an exchange that marked the first large-scale use of UAVs by both militaries against each other. In the aftermath, defense planners on both sides agreed on one thing: the era of discreet fighter-jet skirmishes is giving way to a new arms race, driven by cheap, relentless, and increasingly capable drone warfare.
For decades, India and Pakistan have squared off through a combination of conventional artillery barrages, fighter-jet dogfights, and cross-border shelling in the disputed region of Kashmir. But in early May, both governments leaned heavily on unmanned systems. Islamabad dispatched roughly 300 to 400 drones—ranging from reconnaissance models to armed loitering munitions—across a 1,700-kilometer front. India responded with a mix of indigenously developed UAVs and imported loitering munitions, while tapping into an array of Cold War–era anti-aircraft guns retrofitted with modern radar and command networks. The swift escalation caught many analysts by surprise: small, expendable drones had suddenly become the primary vectors of military coercion between two nuclear-armed neighbors, with profound implications for the broader regional security environment.
From Testing Ground to Battlefield
While both militaries had dabbled in UAVs for surveillance and counterinsurgency roles for years, the May engagements represented a major inflection point. Pakistan’s military, relying heavily on Turkish-origin Bayraktar YIHA-III and Asisguard Songar drones alongside domestically produced Shahpar-II systems, probed Indian defenses at multiple points along the Line of Control. The YIHA-III models, designed to fly low and slow, could evade Indian long-range radars while providing live video feeds back to Pakistani command centers. Meanwhile, smaller rotary-wing drones dropped improvised explosive charges on Indian Army positions near forward posts. Indian officials later confirmed that many of these UAVs were destroyed—either shot down by anti-aircraft batteries or jammed by electronic warfare suites—but the initial wave forced New Delhi to scramble fighter jets and redeploy artillery units in a show of force that would have been unnecessary just a few years ago.
On the receiving end, India deployed its own arsenal of loitering munitions and surveillance drones. Israeli-made HAROP “suicide drones” circled in Pakistani airspace for hours before diving into designated targets such as ammunition dumps or radars. Simultaneously, Polish WARMATE drones—small, portable systems capable of autonomous navigation—penetrated Pakistani airspace at low altitudes, testing Islamabad’s anti-drone defenses. In some cases, these drones conducted precision strikes on what Indian sources described as militant hideouts and logistical hubs near the border. Beyond these imported systems, Indian defense firms such as ideaForge and NewSpace scrambled to fly their locally manufactured UAVs—designed primarily for intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance (ISR)—in contested airspace, collecting real-time imagery on Pakistani troop concentrations and supply routes.
The May drone engagements quickly laid bare a new reality: in an environment of shifting tariffs and economic uncertainty, drones are a relatively low-cost, stand-in asset that can deliver strategic messaging without triggering full-scale war. Small-scale UAV incursions allow each side to signal resolve, demonstrate technological prowess, and satisfy domestic calls for tough retaliation—all while avoiding the catastrophic risk of a conventional air-lined exchange between heavy fighter jets. Yet this very dynamic has catalyzed a spiraling competition to acquire, build and deploy ever-more-sophisticated unmanned systems.
Within weeks of the clashes, New Delhi approved emergency funding exceeding $4 billion to bolster its arsenal of combat and surveillance drones. Officials responsible for defense procurement—traditionally mired in red tape and multi-year approval processes—fast-tracked dozens of trials and demonstrations with private-sector drone makers. The result has been an unprecedented pace of contract awards: contracts that once took three to five years to mature are now being signed in a matter of months. “The boardrooms have realized that without a robust UAV fleet, they risk ceding the tactical advantage,” said a senior Indian defense official who asked not to be named. “It’s no longer enough to invest in fighter jets or tanks alone. The next battle will be fought by swarms of drones.”
Meanwhile, Pakistan’s military brass has embarked on its own accelerated acquisition push. A strategic partnership between the National Aerospace Science and Technology Park in Islamabad and Turkey’s Baykar has been deepened, enabling the domestic assembly of YIHA-III systems in as little as two to three days per unit. In parallel, officials in Rawalpindi have been quietly negotiating with Chinese firms to license-produce more advanced reconnaissance UAVs and seek access to artificial-intelligence software that can improve target recognition. With only around twenty high-end Chinese-made J-10 fighters at its disposal—against India’s fleet of more than thirty Rafale jets—Islamabad increasingly views drones as a force equalizer, capable of probing Indian air defenses without risking expensive manned aircraft. As one Pakistani air force strategist put it, “In a world where each fighter sortie costs tens of thousands of dollars, a $50,000 drone that can evade radar and return usable intelligence is a bargain.”
Domestic Industries Surge Ahead
A major byproduct of this drone-driven arms race has been the meteoric rise of private aerospace firms on both sides of the border. In India, the Drone Federation India—which represents hundreds of domestic UAV manufacturers—estimates that annual drone procurement could swell to nearly $470 million over the next two years, roughly triple pre-crisis levels. Firms such as ideaForge, NewSpace, and Parallel Flight Technologies have ramped up production lines, hired hundreds of engineers, and accelerated research into swarming algorithms that can coordinate dozens of drones in a tactical footprint. Government-led skunkworks projects have also emerged, pairing military engineers from the Defense Research and Development Organisation (DRDO) with private-sector talent to produce prototypes of indigenous loitering munitions that could someday rival imported HAROP systems.
Beyond producing hardware, Indian security experts are investing heavily in counter-drone measures. Bharat Electronics has developed a networked radar capable of detecting small, slow-moving targets at ranges of up to 50 kilometers. Electronic warfare firms are designing jamming packages that can disable common commercial-off-the-shelf (COTS) drone navigation systems. And on the operational side, specialized “drone hunter” teams within the Indian Army and Air Force are being trained to use both kinetic and non-kinetic means—ranging from high-caliber machine guns adapted for low-angle firing to directed-energy weapons still in prototype stages—to neutralize hostile UAVs before they cross the border.
Pakistan’s drone ecosystem, though smaller, has likewise begun diversifying. The state-owned Global Industrial & Defence Solutions (GIDS) conglomerate is scaling up its Shahpar-II production lines, increasing annual output by 60 percent compared to pre-March levels. Simultaneously, Islamabad has inked preliminary deals with Chinese and Turkish suppliers to secure next-generation propulsion systems, night-vision payloads, and encrypted communications packages resistant to Indian electronic warfare. Moreover, research teams at the National University of Sciences and Technology (NUST) in Islamabad have reportedly received grants to prototype micro-drone swarms for urban combat scenarios, a sign that Islamabad is anticipating a future where dense, populated areas near the border could become drone battlegrounds.
Operational Shifts and Tactical Innovations
The deployment patterns observed in May reflect a significant shift in doctrine for both armies. In earlier decades, Indian and Pakistani air forces relied heavily on intercepting enemy aircraft with fighter jets or deploying ground-launched surface-to-air missiles (SAMs) to prevent airspace violations. Today, the emphasis has shifted toward “area denial” strategies against swarms of small drones flying below radar cover. Indian anti-aircraft crews retrofitted vintage ZSU-23-2 autocannons—originally designed for Cold War–era jets—to interface with modern radar tracking and fire-control systems. These guns, when paired with quick-reaction alert (QRA) protocols, proved surprisingly adept at puncturing slow, clunky Pakistani reconnaissance drones. As retired Brigadier Anshuman Narang of the Centre for Joint Warfare Studies noted, “The old systems, with a little digital help, outperformed expectations—shooting down over 80 percent of inbound drones in initial trials.”
Conversely, Pakistan’s deployment of decoy radar arrays and flak-fall operations—designed to coax HAROP suicide drones into pre-designated kill zones—demonstrated an evolving understanding of how to counter Indian loitering munitions. In some sectors, Pakistani air defenses installed inflatable radar decoys that mimicked the signature of high-value targets. When HAROPs homed in on these decoys, ground-based short-range air defense (SHORAD) units—equipped with improved radar-tracking 35 mm autocannons—engaged them at ranges under 3,000 feet, detaching the warheads from their guidance fuses and causing them to spiral into uninhabited zones before detonation. Military analysts say this cat-and-mouse game between decoys and counter-drone systems will only intensify, as each side races to build a more resilient layered defense.
The logic behind the drone arms race extends far beyond battlefield tactics. Both India and Pakistan are grappling with the economic fallout of pandemic-related slowdowns, inflationary pressures and widening fiscal deficits. In this context, major purchases of multibillion-dollar fighter jets or naval vessels have become harder to justify. By contrast, investing in drones—whether for strike missions, ISR, or electronic warfare—provides a lower-cost avenue to maintain a credible deterrent. India’s defense budget for the fiscal year 2025–’26, while up 7 percent in nominal terms, saw a marked shift toward allocating funds for UAV research, domestically manufactured munitions, and upgraded radar networks. Pakistan’s defense planners, constrained by a weaker currency and limited access to Western suppliers, similarly reprioritized purchases, canceling a proposed midlife upgrade for its aging F-7P fighters to free up cash for additional UAV squadrons.
This reallocation of resources has attracted scrutiny from both political parties and public-interest watchdogs. Critics in New Delhi argue that expensive domestic drone projects—often touted as “Make in India” successes—are being rushed into service without adequate testing, leading to high early attrition rates and wasted taxpayer funds. In Islamabad, opposition lawmakers have questioned whether the Pakistan Air Force’s emphasis on Turkish and Chinese systems threatens to create excessive reliance on foreign technology, at the expense of building a truly indigenous UAV industry. Proponents on both sides counter that drone capabilities can tip the scales in low-intensity conflicts, making them indispensable assets regardless of initial teething problems.
Technological Race and Supply-Chain Vulnerabilities
An underlying driver of the drone competition is access to specialized components—particularly sensors, navigation chips, and battery materials. Indian drone makers have increasingly voiced concerns about reliance on Chinese-made magnets and lithium cells for UAV batteries. The same magnets used in small electric motors for drones are also critical for broader industrial applications, offering Beijing a potential lever to throttle Indian drone production in times of heightened tension. At the same time, Pakistani engineers have expressed frustration over limitations imposed by Chinese export controls, which sometimes delay deliveries of high-end electro-optical payloads or encrypted datalinks. As a result, both nations have initiated medium- to long-term plans to diversify supply chains: India has started awarding grants to domestic battery manufacturers, while Pakistan’s defense establishment is exploring joint ventures with Turkish firms to set up local production lines for critical drone components.
The broader technological competition has also manifested in the race to develop artificial-intelligence–based autonomy. As drone swarms become more prevalent, manually piloting dozens of UAVs in contested airspace becomes impractical. Indian start-ups such as INVOLAR Labs and Skyllence are developing algorithms that allow multiple drones to communicate, avoid collisions, and autonomously re-task themselves if individual units are shot down. Pakistani researchers at the National Center of Excellence in Artificial Intelligence (NCEAI) in Islamabad have received military grants to adapt commercial swarm-control software—originally created for agricultural drones—to a military context. The goal: to field stealthy swarms capable of overwhelming enemy air defenses by saturating them with dozens or even hundreds of small loitering munitions, forcing defenders to expend expensive interceptor missiles at a fraction of the swarm’s per-unit cost.
As each side races to upgrade its arsenal of strike drones, parallel investments are flowing into electronic warfare (EW) capabilities. India’s Defence Research and Development Organisation (DRDO) has fast-tracked projects to produce airborne EW pods—small, wing-mounted systems that can jam radio-frequency communications and GPS signals used by Pakistani UAVs. Meanwhile, Pakistan’s military has deepened cooperation with China’s Electronic Science and Technology General Research Institute (ESTGRI) to develop ground-based jammers capable of disrupting Indian drone control links. Both sides are also experimenting with directed-energy weapons, such as high-powered microwaves (HPM) and prototype lasers, that could disable drone electronics at a fraction of the cost of traditional interceptors. Although these technologies remain in the lab or early trials, their potential to shape future conflicts is already influencing procurement decisions: investment committees now allocate as much funding to EW R\&D as they do to new airframes.
Complementing these efforts, each country is deploying more sophisticated radar networks specifically designed to detect low-flying, slow-moving UAVs that traditional air-surveillance radars might miss. In India, regional air-defense hubs near Jammu and Srinagar have been linked via fiber-optic data lines to upgraded 3D radars with improved clutter rejection, enabling them to pick up drone swarms at distances beyond 40 kilometers. Pakistan, for its part, has installed new radar arrays in the mountains of northwest Punjab and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, positioning them to scan approaches from the east. These systems feed target information to both conventional air-defense batteries and mobile EW vehicles, creating layered defense cells that could theoretically force hostile UAVs to fly higher—making them easier to intercept with radar-guided missiles.
Regional and Global Ramifications
The intensifying drone competition between India and Pakistan is not occurring in a vacuum. Other regional actors, from China to Iran, are closely monitoring whether small-state drone skirmishes could provide a blueprint for future indirect conflicts. China’s People’s Liberation Army has long invested heavily in its own unmanned systems, viewing UAVs as force multipliers in potential clashes over Taiwan or in the South China Sea. With India publicly touting indigenized drone startups and Pakistan flaunting its Turkish-Chinese collaborations, Beijing is likely to take note of which approaches yield the most operational benefit. Meanwhile, Iran’s Revolutionary Guard Corps has offered to share drone tactics with allied militias in Afghanistan and Yemen—lessons often drawn from silent wars fought with loitering munitions half a world away.
Within South Asia itself, secondary ripple effects are already evident. Nepal and Bangladesh, traditionally neutral or cautious, have quietly ramped up their own UAV investments to avoid becoming vulnerable to cross-border surveillance. Sri Lanka’s navy has begun testing small sea-surface drones for coastal patrol missions, citing India-Pakistan clashes as evidence of the urgent need for maritime domain awareness in the Indian Ocean. Afghanistan’s security forces, still reeling from internal unrest, have experimented with locally modified small drones to track populist uprisings, drawing inspiration from the tactical maps being drawn up by both Delhi and Islamabad.
At multilateral forums—such as the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation summit and the annual dialogue hosted by the Association of Southeast Asian Nations—delegates have already begun inserting language about counter-UAV policy, airspace management, and export controls for dual-use components. While no sweeping regional architecture exists to govern drone engagements akin to nuclear nonproliferation treaties, the conversations are a tacit acknowledgment that South Asia’s drone arms race could metastasize into a broader security dilemma unless policy measures are introduced soon.
Perhaps the most alarming dimension of the drone arms race is how these small, stealthy aircraft could inadvertently trigger a broader escalation—especially given the deep-seated mutual distrust between India and Pakistan. Unlike manned fighter jets, which are harder to misidentify and typically require deliberate decision-making chains before crossing frontlines, drones can be launched with minimal warning and potentially misinterpreted as larger threats. In the tension-charged Himalayan theater, a single loitering munition crash-landing near a military airfield could prompt calls for immediate retaliation—triggering a cycle of tit-for-tat exchanges that risk drawing in larger platforms.
Military strategists warn that the low-risk nature of drone warfare makes it tempting for either side to escalate preemptively. Take the example of a Pakistani drone striking an Indian radar installation under cover of night. Even if the material damage is minimal, New Delhi’s leaders may face intense domestic pressure to respond forcefully—perhaps by deploying fighter jets or launching cruise missiles in Pakistan’s western provinces. Once manned aircraft are airborne, Islamabad could interpret that as a direct sign of imminent large-scale conflict and scramble its high-end fighters or even mobilize its tactical nuclear assets. The calculus becomes even murkier when both sides invest in new ground-based, short-range ballistic missiles equipped with conventional warheads—systems that could be mistaken for nuclear-delivery vehicles if launched in haste.
Over the past decade, both Indian and Pakistani militaries have maintained “no-first-use” nuclear doctrines in principle. Yet the proliferation of drones has muddied operational protocols. If either side deploys drones loaded with chemical or biological sensors near the border, the receiving state may interpret the move as a prelude to unconventional warfare—prompting an escalatory spiral that could involve nuclear assets as a show of resolve. In code-named exercises such as India’s “Dhwani Pravaah” and Pakistan’s “Azm-e-Nau,” military planners have begun to run tabletop war games simulating drone attacks followed by nuclear signaling. The purpose is to train decision-makers to avoid overreaction. However, seasoned analysts caution that war games cannot fully capture the “fog of real war,” where miscommunication and split-second decision-making can lead to catastrophic miscalculations.
Toward a Perpetual Drone Competition
As of mid-2025, both New Delhi and Islamabad have invested heavily in stockpiling a range of drones—from small quadcopters armed with grenades to high-end, long-range reconnaissance aircraft. Government budgets reflect this shift: India’s Ministry of Defense has earmarked nearly 30 percent of its capital expenditure for UAV-related projects, while Pakistan’s defense budget, though significantly smaller, has tripled its allocation for drone procurement over the past two years. In each capital, think tanks and interservice committees now treat drones as the fulcrum around which broader modernization plans pivot, rather than supporting assets subordinate to jets and ships.
Private aerospace exhibitions in Bangalore and Karachi, once dominated by displays of fighter fuselages and missile mock-ups, now showcase drone swarms, autonomous navigation modules, and AI-enabled payload-targeting solutions. Venture capitalists are placing bets on startups capable of producing next-generation battlefield drones that can operate in GPS-denied environments and resist electronic jamming. Meanwhile, opposition leaders in both countries accuse their governments of indulging a military-industrial complex that profits from perpetual conflict. In Pakistan’s National Assembly, legislators have questioned whether increased drone spending will leave the nation more vulnerable in other domains—such as cyber defense, infantry modernization, or public health. In India’s Parliament, critics fret that runaway drone investments could exacerbate existing budget shortfalls in social programs, education, and rural development.
On the diplomatic front, efforts at confidence-building measures have yet to bear fruit. A proposed “Drone Deconfliction Hotline” between the Indian Air Force and the Pakistan Air Force—intended to allow rapid clarification when UAV incursions occur—has stalled amid mutual recriminations. Islamabad continues to demand that India withdraw what it calls “aggressive UAV patrols” near settled border areas, while New Delhi counteraccuses Pakistan of using drone strikes to support militant infiltration across the Line of Control. Bilateral talks on drone warfare have repeatedly run aground over disputes related to surveillance of civilian populations, with each side branding the other’s drone operations as violations of sovereignty.
As the monsoon clouds gather over South Asia, the drone arms race shows little sign of abating. Both militaries are investing in second- and third-generation UAVs that promise longer ranges, heavier payload capacities, and more advanced stealth features. India’s DRDO laboratories are already testing prototypes of winged UAVs capable of flying at altitudes above 30,000 feet—altitudes previously reserved for manned reconnaissance jets. Pakistan’s emerging ties with Turkish defense firms suggest that the next wave of YIHA-III clones could come equipped with artificial-intelligence modules allowing semi-autonomous target selection. Beyond singular drone flights, commanders envision building integrated drone “task forces” that combine aerial, ground-based, and sea-surface unmanned systems into a single, cohesive network—one that could operate in contested environments with minimal human intervention.
Within this accelerating competition, drone battles have become the spark for a wider rethinking of military doctrine, procurement priorities, and defense-industrial policy in both countries. What began as a small-scale exchange of remote-controlled aircraft has now escalated into a multi-billion-dollar contest for technological dominance, supply-chain control, and battlefield innovation. In the long run, the stakes extend far beyond the Line of Control. A South Asia dominated by drone warfare could alter strategic calculations from Kashmir to the Indian Ocean, shaping alliances, deterrence postures, and even global arms-export patterns.
Yet for now, each new drone incursion, each counter-UAV radar deployed, and each swarming algorithm fielded only deepens the sense that the region is at the dawn of a new arms race—one driven not by jet engines and tank armor, but by microprocessors, sensors, and remotely piloted aircraft. Whether this competition ultimately brings stability through deterrence or new dangers through miscalculation remains the defining question for policymakers and military planners across South Asia.
(Source:www.japantimes.co.jp)
For decades, India and Pakistan have squared off through a combination of conventional artillery barrages, fighter-jet dogfights, and cross-border shelling in the disputed region of Kashmir. But in early May, both governments leaned heavily on unmanned systems. Islamabad dispatched roughly 300 to 400 drones—ranging from reconnaissance models to armed loitering munitions—across a 1,700-kilometer front. India responded with a mix of indigenously developed UAVs and imported loitering munitions, while tapping into an array of Cold War–era anti-aircraft guns retrofitted with modern radar and command networks. The swift escalation caught many analysts by surprise: small, expendable drones had suddenly become the primary vectors of military coercion between two nuclear-armed neighbors, with profound implications for the broader regional security environment.
From Testing Ground to Battlefield
While both militaries had dabbled in UAVs for surveillance and counterinsurgency roles for years, the May engagements represented a major inflection point. Pakistan’s military, relying heavily on Turkish-origin Bayraktar YIHA-III and Asisguard Songar drones alongside domestically produced Shahpar-II systems, probed Indian defenses at multiple points along the Line of Control. The YIHA-III models, designed to fly low and slow, could evade Indian long-range radars while providing live video feeds back to Pakistani command centers. Meanwhile, smaller rotary-wing drones dropped improvised explosive charges on Indian Army positions near forward posts. Indian officials later confirmed that many of these UAVs were destroyed—either shot down by anti-aircraft batteries or jammed by electronic warfare suites—but the initial wave forced New Delhi to scramble fighter jets and redeploy artillery units in a show of force that would have been unnecessary just a few years ago.
On the receiving end, India deployed its own arsenal of loitering munitions and surveillance drones. Israeli-made HAROP “suicide drones” circled in Pakistani airspace for hours before diving into designated targets such as ammunition dumps or radars. Simultaneously, Polish WARMATE drones—small, portable systems capable of autonomous navigation—penetrated Pakistani airspace at low altitudes, testing Islamabad’s anti-drone defenses. In some cases, these drones conducted precision strikes on what Indian sources described as militant hideouts and logistical hubs near the border. Beyond these imported systems, Indian defense firms such as ideaForge and NewSpace scrambled to fly their locally manufactured UAVs—designed primarily for intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance (ISR)—in contested airspace, collecting real-time imagery on Pakistani troop concentrations and supply routes.
The May drone engagements quickly laid bare a new reality: in an environment of shifting tariffs and economic uncertainty, drones are a relatively low-cost, stand-in asset that can deliver strategic messaging without triggering full-scale war. Small-scale UAV incursions allow each side to signal resolve, demonstrate technological prowess, and satisfy domestic calls for tough retaliation—all while avoiding the catastrophic risk of a conventional air-lined exchange between heavy fighter jets. Yet this very dynamic has catalyzed a spiraling competition to acquire, build and deploy ever-more-sophisticated unmanned systems.
Within weeks of the clashes, New Delhi approved emergency funding exceeding $4 billion to bolster its arsenal of combat and surveillance drones. Officials responsible for defense procurement—traditionally mired in red tape and multi-year approval processes—fast-tracked dozens of trials and demonstrations with private-sector drone makers. The result has been an unprecedented pace of contract awards: contracts that once took three to five years to mature are now being signed in a matter of months. “The boardrooms have realized that without a robust UAV fleet, they risk ceding the tactical advantage,” said a senior Indian defense official who asked not to be named. “It’s no longer enough to invest in fighter jets or tanks alone. The next battle will be fought by swarms of drones.”
Meanwhile, Pakistan’s military brass has embarked on its own accelerated acquisition push. A strategic partnership between the National Aerospace Science and Technology Park in Islamabad and Turkey’s Baykar has been deepened, enabling the domestic assembly of YIHA-III systems in as little as two to three days per unit. In parallel, officials in Rawalpindi have been quietly negotiating with Chinese firms to license-produce more advanced reconnaissance UAVs and seek access to artificial-intelligence software that can improve target recognition. With only around twenty high-end Chinese-made J-10 fighters at its disposal—against India’s fleet of more than thirty Rafale jets—Islamabad increasingly views drones as a force equalizer, capable of probing Indian air defenses without risking expensive manned aircraft. As one Pakistani air force strategist put it, “In a world where each fighter sortie costs tens of thousands of dollars, a $50,000 drone that can evade radar and return usable intelligence is a bargain.”
Domestic Industries Surge Ahead
A major byproduct of this drone-driven arms race has been the meteoric rise of private aerospace firms on both sides of the border. In India, the Drone Federation India—which represents hundreds of domestic UAV manufacturers—estimates that annual drone procurement could swell to nearly $470 million over the next two years, roughly triple pre-crisis levels. Firms such as ideaForge, NewSpace, and Parallel Flight Technologies have ramped up production lines, hired hundreds of engineers, and accelerated research into swarming algorithms that can coordinate dozens of drones in a tactical footprint. Government-led skunkworks projects have also emerged, pairing military engineers from the Defense Research and Development Organisation (DRDO) with private-sector talent to produce prototypes of indigenous loitering munitions that could someday rival imported HAROP systems.
Beyond producing hardware, Indian security experts are investing heavily in counter-drone measures. Bharat Electronics has developed a networked radar capable of detecting small, slow-moving targets at ranges of up to 50 kilometers. Electronic warfare firms are designing jamming packages that can disable common commercial-off-the-shelf (COTS) drone navigation systems. And on the operational side, specialized “drone hunter” teams within the Indian Army and Air Force are being trained to use both kinetic and non-kinetic means—ranging from high-caliber machine guns adapted for low-angle firing to directed-energy weapons still in prototype stages—to neutralize hostile UAVs before they cross the border.
Pakistan’s drone ecosystem, though smaller, has likewise begun diversifying. The state-owned Global Industrial & Defence Solutions (GIDS) conglomerate is scaling up its Shahpar-II production lines, increasing annual output by 60 percent compared to pre-March levels. Simultaneously, Islamabad has inked preliminary deals with Chinese and Turkish suppliers to secure next-generation propulsion systems, night-vision payloads, and encrypted communications packages resistant to Indian electronic warfare. Moreover, research teams at the National University of Sciences and Technology (NUST) in Islamabad have reportedly received grants to prototype micro-drone swarms for urban combat scenarios, a sign that Islamabad is anticipating a future where dense, populated areas near the border could become drone battlegrounds.
Operational Shifts and Tactical Innovations
The deployment patterns observed in May reflect a significant shift in doctrine for both armies. In earlier decades, Indian and Pakistani air forces relied heavily on intercepting enemy aircraft with fighter jets or deploying ground-launched surface-to-air missiles (SAMs) to prevent airspace violations. Today, the emphasis has shifted toward “area denial” strategies against swarms of small drones flying below radar cover. Indian anti-aircraft crews retrofitted vintage ZSU-23-2 autocannons—originally designed for Cold War–era jets—to interface with modern radar tracking and fire-control systems. These guns, when paired with quick-reaction alert (QRA) protocols, proved surprisingly adept at puncturing slow, clunky Pakistani reconnaissance drones. As retired Brigadier Anshuman Narang of the Centre for Joint Warfare Studies noted, “The old systems, with a little digital help, outperformed expectations—shooting down over 80 percent of inbound drones in initial trials.”
Conversely, Pakistan’s deployment of decoy radar arrays and flak-fall operations—designed to coax HAROP suicide drones into pre-designated kill zones—demonstrated an evolving understanding of how to counter Indian loitering munitions. In some sectors, Pakistani air defenses installed inflatable radar decoys that mimicked the signature of high-value targets. When HAROPs homed in on these decoys, ground-based short-range air defense (SHORAD) units—equipped with improved radar-tracking 35 mm autocannons—engaged them at ranges under 3,000 feet, detaching the warheads from their guidance fuses and causing them to spiral into uninhabited zones before detonation. Military analysts say this cat-and-mouse game between decoys and counter-drone systems will only intensify, as each side races to build a more resilient layered defense.
The logic behind the drone arms race extends far beyond battlefield tactics. Both India and Pakistan are grappling with the economic fallout of pandemic-related slowdowns, inflationary pressures and widening fiscal deficits. In this context, major purchases of multibillion-dollar fighter jets or naval vessels have become harder to justify. By contrast, investing in drones—whether for strike missions, ISR, or electronic warfare—provides a lower-cost avenue to maintain a credible deterrent. India’s defense budget for the fiscal year 2025–’26, while up 7 percent in nominal terms, saw a marked shift toward allocating funds for UAV research, domestically manufactured munitions, and upgraded radar networks. Pakistan’s defense planners, constrained by a weaker currency and limited access to Western suppliers, similarly reprioritized purchases, canceling a proposed midlife upgrade for its aging F-7P fighters to free up cash for additional UAV squadrons.
This reallocation of resources has attracted scrutiny from both political parties and public-interest watchdogs. Critics in New Delhi argue that expensive domestic drone projects—often touted as “Make in India” successes—are being rushed into service without adequate testing, leading to high early attrition rates and wasted taxpayer funds. In Islamabad, opposition lawmakers have questioned whether the Pakistan Air Force’s emphasis on Turkish and Chinese systems threatens to create excessive reliance on foreign technology, at the expense of building a truly indigenous UAV industry. Proponents on both sides counter that drone capabilities can tip the scales in low-intensity conflicts, making them indispensable assets regardless of initial teething problems.
Technological Race and Supply-Chain Vulnerabilities
An underlying driver of the drone competition is access to specialized components—particularly sensors, navigation chips, and battery materials. Indian drone makers have increasingly voiced concerns about reliance on Chinese-made magnets and lithium cells for UAV batteries. The same magnets used in small electric motors for drones are also critical for broader industrial applications, offering Beijing a potential lever to throttle Indian drone production in times of heightened tension. At the same time, Pakistani engineers have expressed frustration over limitations imposed by Chinese export controls, which sometimes delay deliveries of high-end electro-optical payloads or encrypted datalinks. As a result, both nations have initiated medium- to long-term plans to diversify supply chains: India has started awarding grants to domestic battery manufacturers, while Pakistan’s defense establishment is exploring joint ventures with Turkish firms to set up local production lines for critical drone components.
The broader technological competition has also manifested in the race to develop artificial-intelligence–based autonomy. As drone swarms become more prevalent, manually piloting dozens of UAVs in contested airspace becomes impractical. Indian start-ups such as INVOLAR Labs and Skyllence are developing algorithms that allow multiple drones to communicate, avoid collisions, and autonomously re-task themselves if individual units are shot down. Pakistani researchers at the National Center of Excellence in Artificial Intelligence (NCEAI) in Islamabad have received military grants to adapt commercial swarm-control software—originally created for agricultural drones—to a military context. The goal: to field stealthy swarms capable of overwhelming enemy air defenses by saturating them with dozens or even hundreds of small loitering munitions, forcing defenders to expend expensive interceptor missiles at a fraction of the swarm’s per-unit cost.
As each side races to upgrade its arsenal of strike drones, parallel investments are flowing into electronic warfare (EW) capabilities. India’s Defence Research and Development Organisation (DRDO) has fast-tracked projects to produce airborne EW pods—small, wing-mounted systems that can jam radio-frequency communications and GPS signals used by Pakistani UAVs. Meanwhile, Pakistan’s military has deepened cooperation with China’s Electronic Science and Technology General Research Institute (ESTGRI) to develop ground-based jammers capable of disrupting Indian drone control links. Both sides are also experimenting with directed-energy weapons, such as high-powered microwaves (HPM) and prototype lasers, that could disable drone electronics at a fraction of the cost of traditional interceptors. Although these technologies remain in the lab or early trials, their potential to shape future conflicts is already influencing procurement decisions: investment committees now allocate as much funding to EW R\&D as they do to new airframes.
Complementing these efforts, each country is deploying more sophisticated radar networks specifically designed to detect low-flying, slow-moving UAVs that traditional air-surveillance radars might miss. In India, regional air-defense hubs near Jammu and Srinagar have been linked via fiber-optic data lines to upgraded 3D radars with improved clutter rejection, enabling them to pick up drone swarms at distances beyond 40 kilometers. Pakistan, for its part, has installed new radar arrays in the mountains of northwest Punjab and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, positioning them to scan approaches from the east. These systems feed target information to both conventional air-defense batteries and mobile EW vehicles, creating layered defense cells that could theoretically force hostile UAVs to fly higher—making them easier to intercept with radar-guided missiles.
Regional and Global Ramifications
The intensifying drone competition between India and Pakistan is not occurring in a vacuum. Other regional actors, from China to Iran, are closely monitoring whether small-state drone skirmishes could provide a blueprint for future indirect conflicts. China’s People’s Liberation Army has long invested heavily in its own unmanned systems, viewing UAVs as force multipliers in potential clashes over Taiwan or in the South China Sea. With India publicly touting indigenized drone startups and Pakistan flaunting its Turkish-Chinese collaborations, Beijing is likely to take note of which approaches yield the most operational benefit. Meanwhile, Iran’s Revolutionary Guard Corps has offered to share drone tactics with allied militias in Afghanistan and Yemen—lessons often drawn from silent wars fought with loitering munitions half a world away.
Within South Asia itself, secondary ripple effects are already evident. Nepal and Bangladesh, traditionally neutral or cautious, have quietly ramped up their own UAV investments to avoid becoming vulnerable to cross-border surveillance. Sri Lanka’s navy has begun testing small sea-surface drones for coastal patrol missions, citing India-Pakistan clashes as evidence of the urgent need for maritime domain awareness in the Indian Ocean. Afghanistan’s security forces, still reeling from internal unrest, have experimented with locally modified small drones to track populist uprisings, drawing inspiration from the tactical maps being drawn up by both Delhi and Islamabad.
At multilateral forums—such as the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation summit and the annual dialogue hosted by the Association of Southeast Asian Nations—delegates have already begun inserting language about counter-UAV policy, airspace management, and export controls for dual-use components. While no sweeping regional architecture exists to govern drone engagements akin to nuclear nonproliferation treaties, the conversations are a tacit acknowledgment that South Asia’s drone arms race could metastasize into a broader security dilemma unless policy measures are introduced soon.
Perhaps the most alarming dimension of the drone arms race is how these small, stealthy aircraft could inadvertently trigger a broader escalation—especially given the deep-seated mutual distrust between India and Pakistan. Unlike manned fighter jets, which are harder to misidentify and typically require deliberate decision-making chains before crossing frontlines, drones can be launched with minimal warning and potentially misinterpreted as larger threats. In the tension-charged Himalayan theater, a single loitering munition crash-landing near a military airfield could prompt calls for immediate retaliation—triggering a cycle of tit-for-tat exchanges that risk drawing in larger platforms.
Military strategists warn that the low-risk nature of drone warfare makes it tempting for either side to escalate preemptively. Take the example of a Pakistani drone striking an Indian radar installation under cover of night. Even if the material damage is minimal, New Delhi’s leaders may face intense domestic pressure to respond forcefully—perhaps by deploying fighter jets or launching cruise missiles in Pakistan’s western provinces. Once manned aircraft are airborne, Islamabad could interpret that as a direct sign of imminent large-scale conflict and scramble its high-end fighters or even mobilize its tactical nuclear assets. The calculus becomes even murkier when both sides invest in new ground-based, short-range ballistic missiles equipped with conventional warheads—systems that could be mistaken for nuclear-delivery vehicles if launched in haste.
Over the past decade, both Indian and Pakistani militaries have maintained “no-first-use” nuclear doctrines in principle. Yet the proliferation of drones has muddied operational protocols. If either side deploys drones loaded with chemical or biological sensors near the border, the receiving state may interpret the move as a prelude to unconventional warfare—prompting an escalatory spiral that could involve nuclear assets as a show of resolve. In code-named exercises such as India’s “Dhwani Pravaah” and Pakistan’s “Azm-e-Nau,” military planners have begun to run tabletop war games simulating drone attacks followed by nuclear signaling. The purpose is to train decision-makers to avoid overreaction. However, seasoned analysts caution that war games cannot fully capture the “fog of real war,” where miscommunication and split-second decision-making can lead to catastrophic miscalculations.
Toward a Perpetual Drone Competition
As of mid-2025, both New Delhi and Islamabad have invested heavily in stockpiling a range of drones—from small quadcopters armed with grenades to high-end, long-range reconnaissance aircraft. Government budgets reflect this shift: India’s Ministry of Defense has earmarked nearly 30 percent of its capital expenditure for UAV-related projects, while Pakistan’s defense budget, though significantly smaller, has tripled its allocation for drone procurement over the past two years. In each capital, think tanks and interservice committees now treat drones as the fulcrum around which broader modernization plans pivot, rather than supporting assets subordinate to jets and ships.
Private aerospace exhibitions in Bangalore and Karachi, once dominated by displays of fighter fuselages and missile mock-ups, now showcase drone swarms, autonomous navigation modules, and AI-enabled payload-targeting solutions. Venture capitalists are placing bets on startups capable of producing next-generation battlefield drones that can operate in GPS-denied environments and resist electronic jamming. Meanwhile, opposition leaders in both countries accuse their governments of indulging a military-industrial complex that profits from perpetual conflict. In Pakistan’s National Assembly, legislators have questioned whether increased drone spending will leave the nation more vulnerable in other domains—such as cyber defense, infantry modernization, or public health. In India’s Parliament, critics fret that runaway drone investments could exacerbate existing budget shortfalls in social programs, education, and rural development.
On the diplomatic front, efforts at confidence-building measures have yet to bear fruit. A proposed “Drone Deconfliction Hotline” between the Indian Air Force and the Pakistan Air Force—intended to allow rapid clarification when UAV incursions occur—has stalled amid mutual recriminations. Islamabad continues to demand that India withdraw what it calls “aggressive UAV patrols” near settled border areas, while New Delhi counteraccuses Pakistan of using drone strikes to support militant infiltration across the Line of Control. Bilateral talks on drone warfare have repeatedly run aground over disputes related to surveillance of civilian populations, with each side branding the other’s drone operations as violations of sovereignty.
As the monsoon clouds gather over South Asia, the drone arms race shows little sign of abating. Both militaries are investing in second- and third-generation UAVs that promise longer ranges, heavier payload capacities, and more advanced stealth features. India’s DRDO laboratories are already testing prototypes of winged UAVs capable of flying at altitudes above 30,000 feet—altitudes previously reserved for manned reconnaissance jets. Pakistan’s emerging ties with Turkish defense firms suggest that the next wave of YIHA-III clones could come equipped with artificial-intelligence modules allowing semi-autonomous target selection. Beyond singular drone flights, commanders envision building integrated drone “task forces” that combine aerial, ground-based, and sea-surface unmanned systems into a single, cohesive network—one that could operate in contested environments with minimal human intervention.
Within this accelerating competition, drone battles have become the spark for a wider rethinking of military doctrine, procurement priorities, and defense-industrial policy in both countries. What began as a small-scale exchange of remote-controlled aircraft has now escalated into a multi-billion-dollar contest for technological dominance, supply-chain control, and battlefield innovation. In the long run, the stakes extend far beyond the Line of Control. A South Asia dominated by drone warfare could alter strategic calculations from Kashmir to the Indian Ocean, shaping alliances, deterrence postures, and even global arms-export patterns.
Yet for now, each new drone incursion, each counter-UAV radar deployed, and each swarming algorithm fielded only deepens the sense that the region is at the dawn of a new arms race—one driven not by jet engines and tank armor, but by microprocessors, sensors, and remotely piloted aircraft. Whether this competition ultimately brings stability through deterrence or new dangers through miscalculation remains the defining question for policymakers and military planners across South Asia.
(Source:www.japantimes.co.jp)
