How America lost control of the air

This is not the first time the aura of invincibility surrounding America’s stealth-tipped technological edge in military capability has been punctured. In 1999 — less than a decade after its existence, having long circulated as a subject of speculation, had been publicly confirmed over the skies of Iraq — an F-117 Nighthawk, the original “stealth fighter” (even if it was, in reality, an attack aircraft), was shot down by Serbian air defence commander Zoltán Dani using systems that many had already dismissed in the face of what was presumed to be America’s unassailable air superiority.

How Colonel Dani managed this now-legendary shootdown is a story too intricate to do justice in just a paragraph. The crux of it, however, comes down to ingenuity, planning, discipline, and an ability to make the most of what was available to him — even if it was a generation, perhaps two, behind his target.

In Iran, 27 years on, American air power is confronting a similar rude awakening, this time perhaps at scale.

What happened

On Friday, Iranian air defences took down two US warplanes conducting combat operations over the country — an F-15E Strike Eagle and an A-10 Thunderbolt II — triggering a high-risk combat search-and-rescue effort.

The episode did not end there. Two US search-and-rescue helicopters, likely variants of the Sikorsky HH-60G Pave Hawk, also came under Iranian fire, sustaining damage and causing injuries to personnel on board. However, both aircraft reportedly made it back to base.

Unconfirmed reports and photographs on social media also suggested a third jet, possibly an F-16, was either damaged or shot down as well.

Taken together, these developments sharply undercut earlier assertions that US and Israeli forces had achieved uncontested air superiority over Iran. After weeks of strikes, the expectation publicly reinforced at the highest political levels in America was of a battlespace largely cleared of meaningful resistance.

Only two days earlier, President Donald Trump, in a disjointed national address, had claimed that “never in the history of warfare” had “an enemy suffered such clear and devastating, large-scale losses in a matter of weeks,” asserting that Iran’s air force, navy, and ballistic missile capabilities were effectively “in ruins” and “gone.”

Friday’s events suggested otherwise.

The prelude

Last month, the Pentagon acknowledged that a US Air Force F-35A Lightning II was forced to abort a combat mission over Iran and divert to an undisclosed US airbase in the Middle East for an emergency landing. Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) claimed the aircraft had been struck over Iranian territory and released video footage purportedly showing the jet being engaged by a missile, captured through a forward-looking infrared (FLIR) system — imagery that is identical to visuals circulating after Friday’s reported shootdowns.

US officials stopped short of confirming a strike but did acknowledge that the pilot sustained shrapnel injuries, lending weight to the possibility that the aircraft had come under fire. Some OSINT accounts on the social media platform X also pointed to possible search-and-rescue activity over the Arabian Peninsula around the same timeframe, suggesting the stealth aircraft may not have made it back to base as the Pentagon had claimed or, at the very least, that more had transpired than was officially disclosed.

In any case, the incident sent a ripple of both unease and excitement across military aviation circles worldwide, as it hinted that a stealth aircraft may have been successfully engaged for the first time since 1999. Before photos of wreckage were conclusively linked to an F-15E Strike Eagle from a squadron based at RAF Lakenheath, the IRGC and early reports had claimed that the first aircraft downed on Friday was an F-35 as well.

The aftermath (so far)

Early on Sunday morning, President Donald Trump announced in a post on Truth Social that the missing airman from the downed F-15E Strike Eagle had been rescued in “one of the most daring Search and Rescue Operations in US history” from deep inside the mountains of Iran’s southern Isfahan province.

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The IRGC, however, quickly disputed that account, claiming the US rescue effort had failed. In a statement posted on X, IRGC Public Relations said that, following the desperate actions of the American enemy to rescue the downed fighter pilot and the entry of enemy aircraft into the centre of the country, a joint operation involving the Air Force, Ground Forces, Popular Mobilisation Units, Basij, and law enforcement was conducted.

“According to subsequent data and field investigations conducted by experts, two C130 military transport aircraft and two Black Hawk helicopters belonging to the US Army were destroyed by what has been described as the ‘Divine Promise’ and the firepower of the Armed Forces, further deepening the US Army’s successive losses,” the statement said.

Iranian state media subsequently aired footage of wreckage that appeared to be from a C-130, though it remained unclear whether the aircraft had been shot down in flight or destroyed on the ground.

Meanwhile, a report by The Wall Street Journal, citing a person familiar with the mission, claimed that two US Special Operations aircraft — identified as MC-130J variants typically used for covert infiltration and extraction — were destroyed on the ground during the rescue of the F-15E Strike Eagle crew member. While the officials cited in the report did not clarify how the aircraft became stranded or inoperable, they asserted that its destruction became “necessary” during the mission.

Reporting from Al Jazeera’s John Hendren indicated that a “heavy firefight” erupted as what had been intended as a rapid “get-in, get-out” extraction turned into a protracted engagement. According to him, US forces had sought to use the cover of darkness after closing in on the downed airman, but fire from Iranian forces prolonged the mission into daylight.

Although Trump did not provide details of the firefight believed to have followed, he confirmed that the officer “sustained injuries,” adding that “he will be just fine.”

Iran’s “new air defence system”?

Iran’s Khatam al-Anbiya Air Defence Base said on Saturday that its forces had employed a “new air defence system” to target US warplanes a day earlier. A spokesperson for the joint command added that Iran would “definitely achieve full control” over its airspace, according to state media.

New or not, the claim has intensified speculation across defence circles. How, exactly, has Iran been able to engage fourth- and fifth-generation aircraft despite being widely believed to be outgunned, outmatched, and operating with heavily degraded capabilities? Despite Trump and his war cabinet’s claims that Iran had “no ability” to fight, the IRGC now appears to have downed or damaged some of the most advanced aircraft in the US arsenal, possibly using systems that cost a fraction of what Washington has spent trying to render them untouchable.

Since the March 19 engagement involving an F-35A Lightning II, analysts have increasingly pointed to the likelihood that Iran is relying, at least in part, on electro-optical targeting systems — most plausibly infrared — rather than radar. The visual evidence released by Iran, including FLIR-like footage from both that incident and Friday’s engagements involving the F-15E and A-10, has only reinforced that assessment. Such systems can also operate with charge-coupled device (CCD) cameras, laser rangefinders, and laser designators.

Unlike radar, which depends on emitting signals and interpreting their return, infrared detection is passive. A heat-seeking system emits no signal, meaning it cannot be detected, tracked, or jammed in the conventional sense. It sits outside the electronic warfare architecture around which modern air superiority doctrine has long been built. Radar warning receivers cannot “see” it. Electronic countermeasures cannot spoof or scramble it.

In practical terms, this means such a system can neither be detected in advance nor disrupted mid-engagement. Passive infrared operates on a more fundamental principle: heat. While the F-35 is designed to minimise its radar cross-section, it cannot eliminate its thermal signature. Its powerful engine still produces significant heat. Even if that signature is reduced, it cannot be erased; all objects above absolute zero emit infrared radiation.

Early generations of heat-seeking missiles were notoriously crude, often locking onto the hottest object in view, sometimes even the sun. Advances in sensor technology have since mitigated those limitations. However, in an era defined by sensor fusion and AI-assisted targeting, even relatively modest infrared inputs can, in theory, be processed, filtered, and combined with other data streams to produce a far more reliable targeting solution than their predecessors ever could.

While Iran may not be able to keep pace with conventional air defence advancements — radars, fighter aircraft, and the rest — due to decades of sanctions and embargoes, it does possess a deep and resilient talent base in computer programming that has continued to evolve despite isolation and constraints. That, in turn, gives it the capacity, at least in theory, to assemble a “software solution” to what is otherwise a hardware problem.

There have, over the past two decades, been recurring reports in defence publications that Iran has extensively modified its Cold War–era missile inventory, much of it originally supplied by the US during the Shah’s regime. Systems like the American-origin MIM-23 Hawk surface-to-air missile are believed to have been adapted away from their original semi-active radar homing toward more advanced infrared and electro-optical seekers, an evolution aimed at blunting electronic warfare measures and improving effectiveness against low-observable targets.

Then there are more exotic options, like the “358” missile that has drawn attention for its unusual concept of operation. Rather than racing towards a target like traditional anti-air missiles, it is reportedly designed to fly at a relatively low speed to a designated area and loiter there until its fuel is exhausted. “The weapon flies in a figure-eight pattern and looks for targets,” The New York Times reported in 2020, citing unnamed US military officials.

The 358 is understood to be launched using a solid-fuel rocket booster, which separates after burnout. It then transitions to an air-breathing propulsion system, possibly a small turbojet, akin to that of a cruise missile. However, its infrared sensor ring resembles proximity-fuzing mechanisms typically found on surface-to-air and air-to-air missiles, suggesting a hybrid role: part loitering munition, part air defence interceptor.

The system first came to light in 2019, when examples were seized by the US Navy during interdiction operations targeting Iranian arms shipments to Houthi forces in Yemen. Subsequent seizures by US and partner forces have reinforced the assessment that the system is in active circulation, although much about its true capabilities and operational use remains opaque.

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Despite the number of defence suppression missions flown, Iran retains a mix of unconventional assets, like the 358 missile, and road-mobile systems that can pop up with little warning, compressing reaction times for aircrews. Unlike fixed installations, these platforms can be dispersed, concealed, and redeployed, ensuring they remain a persistent threat long after static air defences have been degraded or destroyed.

Beyond that, there are man-portable air-defence systems (MANPADS). While more limited in range and performance compared to larger systems, they are virtually impossible to eliminate. Cheap, mobile, and easily concealed, they ensure that even a heavily contested airspace is never truly sanitised.

Where was this capability before?

Friday’s shootdowns and the March 19 engagement with an F-35 raise an obvious question: if Iran possessed the means to meaningfully contest its airspace, why did it appear to absorb weeks of sustained bombardment by the US and Israel, including strikes on civilian areas and infrastructure as well as military and nuclear sites?

There were, in fact, early signs that Iranian air defences were neither absent nor inert. An Israeli fighter was “almost shot down” over Iran in the opening phase of the conflict, according to reporting by The Times of Israel, citing the Israel Defence Forces. US aircraft, too, appear to have had close calls. On March 26, footage surfaced showing a Boeing F/A-18E/F Super Hornet narrowly evading what appeared to be a MANPADS strike while conducting a low-level strafing run.

Then there is the mysterious “triple friendly fire” incident over Kuwait, which saw three F-15E Strike Eagle jets brought down. While the losses were attributed to a Kuwaiti Boeing F/A-18 Hornet, the circumstances remain murky. As one experienced former F/A-18 pilot told The War Zone, the episode was “very strange,” adding that such a misidentification would be “bordering on implausible” without a deeper procedural or command-and-control failure.

A more compelling explanation for Iran’s recent success may lie not in absence, but in timing — and in the steady erosion of US and Israel’s crucial defence infrastructure. Iran appears to have prioritised striking the “eyes and ears” of its adversaries: the sensors, radars, and airborne command systems that underpin modern air warfare. In the early stages of the conflict, Iranian strikes destroyed an AN/TPY-2 radar associated with the Terminal High Altitude Area Defence network in Jordan, as well as long-range systems such as the AN/FPS-132 radar in Qatar.

More recently, Iran destroyed a Boeing E-3G Sentry airborne warning and control aircraft during a strike on Prince Sultan Air Base in Saudi Arabia; a significant blow, given the platform’s central role in coordinating air operations and maintaining situational awareness across vast distances.

At the same time, there are indications that the US and Israel may be contending with constraints of their own. Stocks of high-end, standoff munitions, like the AGM-158 JASSM-ER cruise missile, appear to be under strain after weeks of sustained use.

A recent Bloomberg report suggests the United States is on the verge of committing nearly its entire inventory of JASSM-ER missiles, drawing them down from stockpiles allocated to other theatres. The move will leave only around 425 missiles from a prewar inventory of roughly 2,300 for the rest of the globe.

Weapons like these had allowed the US and Israel to attack Iran from relative safety in the early phase of the war, reducing exposure to Iranian air defences. As those inventories thin, American and Israeli forces are being pushed closer to contested airspace where the kinds of systems Iran retains, from mobile launchers to infrared-guided interceptors and MANPADS, become far more consequential.

Even for stealth platforms like the F-35, the risks are real, particularly as the air campaign shifts toward more direct attacks, forcing aircraft to operate closer to potential threats. In that sense, the question is not simply where this Iranian capability was, but whether it was being conserved for conditions under which it could be deployed to maximum effect.

The blind spots of technology

In the course I teach on digital culture and society, we touch upon how the technologies we use in day-to-day life shape our imagination and constrain the boundaries of our thinking. Much of the public discourse on technology frames it as a linear progression, from a primitive point A to a more advanced, refined point B. In the case of digital solutions, for instance, the assumption that anything “digital” is inherently superior to its analogue counterpart is already embedded in our thinking before the solution is evaluated in practice.

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The war on Iran, in addition to exposing the limits of American hard power, is also laying bare a similar teleological imagination of military technology. While it would be inaccurate to suggest that the US has ignored the infrared spectrum, American and Western air superiority thinking since the tail-end of the Cold War has been overwhelmingly oriented around advancements in radar, and the countermeasures designed to defeat it, with stealth being the apex of that conceptual architecture.

That framework seems to have primed US defence planning into a particular epistemology of threat perception, and in doing so, created a blind spot. The last four decades have focused on Iran’s visibly constrained conventional capabilities — its ageing fleet of combat aircraft, legacy radar systems, and Cold War-vintage air defence infrastructure inherited, modified, and patched over time. It appears they may have been looking at the wrong thing.

But the story goes beyond technology itself. Although we can speculate, we do not yet fully know what Iran’s “new air defence system” actually is, or whether it is even best understood as a discrete system at all, rather than a mode of integration between tools, data, and doctrine.

There is a reason I began this article with Zoltán Dani’s legendary F-117 shootdown. We know, now, what technology he had at his disposal. We know, with much greater clarity, what he was up against. Yet the story was never simply about systems of technology; it was about systems of thinking. About asymmetry not only in capability, but in perception; human ingenuity operating inside the blind spots of an adversary convinced of its own invulnerability.

Within this lies the deeper logic of the US and Israeli war on Iran. Trump’s strategy on Iran has been to deploy America’s technological edge with the subtlety of a hammer — assuming that overwhelming precision, firepower, and surveillance would translate into uncontested dominance. Iranian defence planners, meanwhile, appear to have prepared for precisely this kind of war: absorbing, adapting, and calibrating responses across time, space, and constraint.

That is why, at every step, the US military appears at once as omnipotent in its capacity for destruction, and yet strangely constrained in its capacity to control the battlespace it enters.

Zeeshan Ahmad is a freelance journalist and media scholar who writes about politics, security, technology and media narratives

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the author