This may work on the general public, the mainstream media, social media, and sometimes in parliamentary debates; but it has far less impact on a serious air force.
An air force does not judge an aircraft based on a deepfake or unverified casualty figures. It requires much more precise information: mission context, rules of engagement, aircraft configuration, weapons used, AWACS support or lack thereof, available electronic warfare capabilities, defensive/offensive posture, intelligence quality, tactical surprise, ground-to-air environment, altitude, distance, doctrine of use, debriefing, radar data, mission recordings, and industrial feedback. A lost aircraft means nothing in isolation. A loss can result from poor tactics, political constraints, unfavorable ROE, an information trap, a lack of support, or simply a highly risky mission.
Therefore, for air forces, the direct impact of Chinese propaganda is limited. The Indonesian, Indian, Emirati, Qatari, and Egyptian military leaderships are well aware that a narrative such as “three Rafales shot down, therefore the aircraft is bad” is absurd. They also know that the Rafale has classified data, real-world feedback, observable performance in exercises, measurable availability, and integration capabilities that cannot be reduced to social media noise.
But where this campaign might still have an effect is in the political environment surrounding the air forces. A decision to acquire fighter jets is never made solely by pilots. It involves ministries, budgets, parliaments, committees, the media, and sometimes public opinion. If one manages to create a sense of widespread doubt—“the Rafale may have failed,” “the French are hiding something,” “India is unhappy,” “China has proven its superiority”—then one does not convince the professionals, but one complicates the political decision.
The target is therefore not just the expert; it is the legitimacy of the purchase itself.
This is particularly true for countries where the purchase of a foreign aircraft is politically sensitive: Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Vietnam, Serbia, Saudi Arabia, and perhaps even certain Gulf clients. The air force may remain convinced, but the government may want to avoid controversy, negotiate harder, delay a payment installment, demand more guarantees, or diversify to another supplier so as not to appear captive.
So I would say:
Anti-Rafale propaganda is not aimed at convincing pilots that the Rafale is bad. It aims to give political opponents, industrial competitors, and pro-Chinese or anti-French factions simple arguments to repeat.
It is a war against perception, not against expertise.
And that is where deepfakes come in handy: not because a chief of staff will believe them, but because they create noise. They force Dassault, India, France, or the armies involved to deny, explain, and justify. Meanwhile, doubt spreads. Even when refuted, a rumor can leave a residue: “there’s no smoke without fire.”
The appropriate response from France and India is therefore not merely technical. It must also be narrative:
The Rafale is under attack because it is winning.
If the losses were truly that evident, there would be no need for deepfakes.
Air forces make judgments based on data, not on video montages.
Chinese campaigns target public opinion and policymakers, not pilots.
Indigenous AESA seeker with ECCM, dual-pulse motor, and 2-way datalink for mid-course updates.
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