Introduction

On 22 September 2025, China’s navy showcased a capability once thought beyond its reach by Western analysts.^[1] From Fujian, its first indigenous supercarrier, three aircraft took flight: the J-35 stealth fighter, the J-15T heavy strike aircraft, and the KJ-600 airborne early-warning (AEW&C) plane. All were launched by electromagnetic catapults and recovered through arresting gears, a demanding sequence previously exclusive to only the US Navy.^[2] The symbolism was unmistakable. Just over a decade ago, the People’s Liberation Army Navy (PLAN) had commissioned the refurbished Soviet-built ski-jump carrier CNS Liaoning to learn carrier aviation. Today, it is methodically mastering the most complex realm of maritime power.

This progress has been incremental, patient, and deliberate, emphasising sustained learning over rapid breakthroughs. While the PLAN still lacks the operational depth of the US Navy and other experienced counterparts, its trajectory is unambiguous: China is betting that disciplined accumulation of expertise will, over time, enhance its carrier experience and shape the balance of global naval power.

To evaluate China’s expanding aircraft carrier capability, this paper traces the historical roots and doctrinal evolution of the PLAN’s carrier programme, analysing how its accelerated shipbuilding capacity has converged with sophisticated technologies such as the Electromagnetic Aircraft Launch System (EMALS) aboard the Fujian. It explores the strategic implications of this expansion for maritime balance in the Indo-Pacific, particularly amid indications of a contracting American presence. Against this shifting backdrop, the paper assesses India’s mounting challenges in narrowing the widening carrier capability gap with China.

The Ideological and Historical Roots of China’s Carrier Aviation

China’s carrier ambitions date back to the late 1970s, when planners briefly considered them for “forward defence” and an offshore defence contingency.^[3] Yet the project failed to advance. Beijing’s continental threat orientation and Mao Zedong’s conviction that all wars would ultimately be decided in the countryside through the People’s War strategy (adopting ‘protracted war’ tactics) led to carriers being dismissed as extravagant symbols rather than operational necessities.^[4] Until as late as 1977, the PLA Navy was largely regarded as a coastal defence arm of the PLA.^[5]

That year, Chinese submarines undertook a 3,300-nautical-mile patrol in the Western Pacific—an unprecedented voyage intended to demonstrate the service’s emerging capacity for long-range naval operations. This show of strength, coupled with Beijing’s changing trade profile and the declining threat of a Soviet land invasion, drove a modest but important shift under Deng Xiaoping, who in 1985 oversaw the articulation of China’s first coherent maritime strategy.^[6]

Under Admiral Liu Huaqing, the PLAN was, for the first time, given a service-specific doctrine, titled roughly as “near seas active defence”, leading to the inception of China’s modern naval strategic thought.^[7] Liu, as chief and later vice chairman of the Central Military Commission (CMC), consistently advocated for a carrier and the accompanying escort fleet, including destroyers, frigates, and submarines, necessary to sustain it.^[8] To him, carriers offered essential operational value for controlling the Bohai, Yellow, East China, and South China Seas; addressing potential Taiwan or Spratly Islands contingencies; and securing key sea lanes.^[9] He advocated smaller or medium-sized carriers, including vertical or short take-off and landing (V/STOL) variants, tailored for fleet air defence and sea-control missions rather than nuclear-powered supercarriers intended for long-range strikes.

However, for many years, Beijing wavered between lofty rhetoric and strategic hesitation, exposing the ambivalence at the core of China’s naval modernisation. This indecision was not accidental. Constrained defence budgets limited capital-intensive carrier programmes,^[10] while the PLA Ground Force’s dominance ensured that a territorial defence mindset continued to guide China’s security priorities. This continental logic migrated seamlessly into the maritime sphere, where the near seas were cast as “blue soil”, an indivisible extension of the homeland. The emphasis, therefore, remained on defending territory rather than developing a maritime posture, and Jiang Zemin’s “new security concept” codified this orientation. Admiral Liu translated it into operational terms, arguing for the protection of a “blue homeland” stretching 200 to 400 nautical miles from China’s coasts and reaching deeper into the South China Sea.^[11]

Figure 1: China’s ‘Blue Soil’ Claim in the Near Seas

Source: BBC^[12]

It was in this backdrop that the Taiwan Strait crisis of 1995–96 pushed Chinese naval thinking in a new direction. The deployment of two American carriers exposed the limits of the PLA’s naval power and implied a loss of face for Beijing. The lesson was stark: carriers were not obsolete relics but effective instruments of deterrence and intimidation.^[13] Their unique combination of mobility, long-range strike capacity, and resilient layered defences made them the most survivable platforms afloat. Beyond symbolism, they could bring concentrated firepower to bear against an adversary’s vulnerabilities while signalling resolve. As Beijing re-evaluated its continental strategy, the crisis underscored that carriers remained a core means of projecting power and shaping outcomes without direct conflict.

At the policy level, this shift prompted President Hu Jintao’s administration to depart from its predecessors’ line, framing China’s rise through a maritime lens. Beijing began linking sea power to great-power status and to the protection of energy, resources, and trade across distant waters. In his 18^th Party Congress Report, Hu emphasised that only a formidable navy could furnish the hard military edge necessary to defend China’s maritime rights and interests.^[14] However, Hu’s limited authority within the PLA constrained these ambitions.^[15] Dominated by Jiang-era loyalists from the PLA’s ground warfare establishment, the CMC left Hu with limited leverage to push state-level reforms favouring maritime power. To mitigate resistance, he publicly endorsed a “composite development plan” that ostensibly balanced land and sea power.^[16] Over time, this framework displaced the entrenched doctrine that “the land outweighs the sea” in national defence discourse.^[17]

Xi Jinping retained this formula but invested it with far greater momentum, placing maritime strength at the centre of China’s bid for global influence.^[18]  Through the 2015 and 2019 Defence White Papers,^[19] Xi pressed for a modern maritime force aligned with China’s security and development goals—one capable of safeguarding sea lines of communication, defending overseas interests, and conducting global maritime operations. Xi expanded the PLAN’s mandate to include “far seas protection,” marking a paradigmatic shift in China’s naval strategy. Nearly three decades after adopting the 1985 doctrine of “near seas active defence,” the PLAN was now expected to project power well beyond its traditional littoral focus. In addition, his sweeping higher command reforms in 2015–16 further elevated the Navy and Air Force within the PLA hierarchy, curbing the Army’s dominance, introducing service parity, and laying the foundation for a genuine joint warfighting posture.

A crucial component of this aspiration was Beijing’s recognition that carriers were strategically exclusive assets.^[20] Their prohibitive financial and technological requirements ensured that only a handful of states could operate them, reinforcing the monopoly of maritime dominance. Moreover, a carrier’s classified steam catapult technology, with its load-bearing slides, guide rails, cylinders, pistons, and transmission mechanisms, required not only ultra-precision machine tools but also an exceptionally complex and exacting fabrication process.^[21]

As a result, it had remained a US monopoly, compelling most nations to choose either short take-off but arrested recovery (STOBAR) or vertical and/or short take-off and landing (VSTOL) carriers, since Washington refuses to transfer the technology. Even the French steam catapult is supplied by an American company. This explains why the US and its allies never abandoned carrier development: in a peer-to-peer contest, large ships and heavy guns continued to define operational advantage.

Thus far, however, China lacked the industrial base and resources to field a supercarrier.^[22] Within the PLAN, the pro-carrier lobby therefore advocated a phased approach: acquire a smaller platform, master its operations, and build the supporting ecosystem step by step.^[23] This pragmatic argument paved the way for acquiring the Varyag, the rusting Soviet hulk that would serve to advance China’s apprenticeship in carrier warfare.

Incremental Upgrade: Medium Aircraft Carriers for the ‘Near Seas’

China acquired the unfinished carrier Varyag through a civilian, Xu Zengping, a former military officer turned Hong Kong businessman.^[24] PLAN officials had already surveyed the vessel in Ukraine and urged its purchase. Acting under instructions from PLA intelligence chief Ji Shengde, Xu employed a mix of charm and payoffs to secure the deal for just US$20 million, ostensibly to convert it into a floating casino.^[25] Ukrainians were also paid for roughly fifty tons of design documents which were shipped to China immediately. When the vessel reached China, its original engines were still sealed in protective grease, a stroke of fortune that gave Chinese shipbuilders a decisive head start in converting it into a viable carrier. The purchase spared the PLA Navy at least 15 years of indigenous research and development.^[26]

After an extensive programme of modification and refitting, the former Varyag entered service in 2012 as China’s first commissioned aircraft carrier, the CNS Liaoning. Both the technical data and its refitting experience proved invaluable, culminating in the commissioning of China’s second carrier, the Shandong, within seven years, in 2019. Both carriers belong to the Russian Kuznetsov-class category: STOBAR vessels with a 14-degree ski-jump, displacing approximately 47,000–50,000 tons standard and 60,000–66,000 tons at full load.^[27] Their flight decks extend 305 meters in length with a 70-75 meter beam, capable of operating 24–36 J-15 strike fighters alongside helicopters, including the Z-18 for airborne early warning and surveillance.

Classified at the division level within the naval hierarchy, they host a substantial complement of personnel, including female staff, distinguished by designated colours for deck and carrier-based duties.^[28] Operationally, these initial carriers are less instruments of immediate power projection than platforms for institutional development. Their principal purpose is to train the next generation of personnel in the complex coordination of carrier operations and aircraft employment.

Basic Carrier Requirements: Fighter Aircraft, Training, and Arresting Gears

Before the commissioning of the Liaoning, the PLA Navy confronted three fundamental requirements for carrier aviation: acquiring a carrier-capable fighter aircraft, training personnel in flight deck and air operations, and obtaining reliable arresting gear for carrier landings. To address the first, China developed the J-15 strike fighter, modelled on the Russian Su-33. After Russia declined to sell the aircraft directly,^[29] Beijing obtained a prototype from Ukraine and reverse-engineered it for domestic production.^[30]

This approach aggravated existing frictions in Sino-Russian defence relations. Moscow had already protested China’s unauthorised reproduction of the Sukhoi-27, inducted into the PLA as the (Jian) J-11. In consequence, Russia scaled back defence cooperation and withheld key technologies, including carrier arresting gear. Despite this, the Chinese industry continued serial production of the J-15 fighters.

However, the aircraft’s early service highlighted technical and operational constraints. Launches from the Liaoning’s ski-jump deck limited the take-off weight of the J-15, forcing the PLAN and its pilots to choose between fuel and armament. Operational doctrine prioritised carrying full weapon loads, complemented by in-flight buddy refuelling^[a] to extend range. Even so, performance remained restricted, and the aircraft drew domestic criticism, including online claims that it was derided as a “flopping fish”.^[31] Beijing nevertheless improved the platform and developed the J-15T, a carrier-borne variant adapted for (Catapult Assisted Take-off But Arrested Recovery (CATOBAR) operations. The aircraft has demonstrated compatibility with the PLA Navy’s latest carrier, the Fujian, and its technological enhancements are expected to strengthen the performance of J-15 units operating from the Liaoning and Shandong as well.

The second requirement—training a crew capable of operating China’s first aircraft carrier—demanded a mix of creative diplomacy and strategic improvisation. Ukraine, then Beijing’s most accessible source for Soviet-era military technology and goods, proved indispensable. Corruption eased access, but formal agreements also mattered. Beginning in 2006, China sent pilots, engineers, and naval technicians to Ukrainian facilities in Odessa and Sevastopol,^[32] culminating in training at the NITKA Scientific Testing Simulator for Shipborne Aviation (Nauchno-Ispytatelnyy Trenirovochnyy Kompleks Aviatsii) in Crimea.^[33] Notably, the Su-33 prototype that China later reverse-engineered into the J-15 had originated from this very base.

Drawing on its exposure to NITKA, and reportedly supplementing it with intelligence collection,^[34] China constructed its own Naval Aviation Training Facility at Huangdicun, near Huludao in Liaoning Province, which became operational by 2010.^[35] Beijing also purchased carrier-specific technologies from Ukrainian firms, including arresting hooks and landing equipment, providing the Liaoning programme a critical boost. Once established, the Huangdicun land-based naval aviation training facility was steadily upgraded, eventually incorporating features to prepare crews for both ski-jump carriers and the more advanced CATOBAR platforms now represented by the Fujian.

However, no amount of land-based training can substitute for actual experience at sea. To fill this gap, China turned to Brazil, whose ex-French Clemenceau-class aircraft carrier São Paulo offered a rare opportunity for hands-on instruction.^[36] With France and Britain constrained by the post-1989 arms embargo, and Russia withholding cooperation over China’s unauthorised fighter reproductions, Brazil emerged as Beijing’s preferred partner.^[37] China offered technical assistance to repair Brazil’s C-11 carrier catapult system, while Brazilian facilities and expertise helped prepare the first generation of Chinese carrier aviators.

The third quest, search for arresting gear, followed an unusual trajectory. Both Russia and the US refused to supply China with the equipment, and an attempt to procure it through Brazil was also denied. With few alternatives, the PLA Navy salvaged arresting wires from the HMAS Melbourne, the retired Australian carrier that Beijing had earlier acquired and converted into a floating casino.

Beijing then brought together domestic firms to determine whether the technology could be replicated.^[38] It unexpectedly discovered that Hebei Baoding Juli Rigging Group,^[39] a manufacturer of industrial rigging equipment, had already been producing flexible steel cables exported to Western clients for land-based aircraft arresting systems. Because foreign customers had not disclosed their purpose, the company itself had not recognised their military application. Once this link was identified, the PLA worked with Juli Group to adapt the technology for naval use, ultimately developing arresting wires suitable for carrier aviation. With the parallel progress in aircraft development, crew training, and arresting gear, China overcame the initial barriers to carrier operations, culminating in the commissioning of the Liaoning in 2012 and, subsequently, its first indigenously built carrier, the Shandong, in 2019.

EMALS: Conception and Benefits

One of the most animated debates surrounding China’s carrier programme centred on its prospective adoption of CATOBAR operations and the launch technologies needed to support them. For decades, the only navy to master such operations was the US, which relied on steam catapults before shifting to electromagnetic launch systems (EMALS) on the new Gerald R. Ford class.

Chinese engineers studied this evolution closely,^[40] weighing the trade-offs between legacy steam power and advanced electromagnetic systems. The differences began with the footprint: a single steam catapult aboard a US carrier occupies roughly 1,100 cubic meters of space and weighs more than 500 tons.^[41] EMALS, by contrast, requires about 400 cubic meters and weighs 300 tons. Multiply this across three or four catapults, the standard fit for a large flattop, and the savings in space and displacement are striking, freeing both design flexibility and payload margins. The operational advantages of EMALS are equally consequential. A steam catapult’s power adjustment requires manual tweaking of valves, which effectively fixes the catapult's force and makes it uneven. Launch pressures spike to nearly 6g at the start before tapering off as the aircraft moves forward. This inflicts structural stress on manned fighters and prevents the launch of lightweight unmanned systems, which risk shattering under the stress.

Each launch also consumes close to 600 tons of steam, and the system demands constant maintenance, including cylinder cleaning and lubrication, which in turn requires substantial manpower. Moreover, steam ingestion during catapult launches poses a persistent hazard to engine integrity, particularly affecting compressor blades, combustor liners, and turbine components through accelerated corrosion and oxidation.^[42] The resulting degradation can induce sensor malfunctions, transient or complete flameouts, and in extreme cases, cold launches that lead to water entry or aircraft loss.

The global discourse on EMALS has evolved through phases of optimism, scrutiny, and gradual stabilisation. Within the US Navy, the system was initially hailed as a remedy for the long-standing constraints of steam catapults, but its integration aboard the USS Gerald R. Ford proved difficult. Early trials produced launch reliability of barely 70–80 percent, below the Navy’s 90-percent operational benchmark.

Power demands and the complexities of electrical distribution within the confined architecture of a carrier added to these problems. Each launch required between 60-120 megajoules of energy, demanding extensive storage and management infrastructure. High life-cycle costs and untested reliability under sustained operations further undermined confidence. The system’s dependence on sensitive circuitry and digital control also made it vulnerable to combat damage, power instability, and electromagnetic pulse effects. These shortcomings rendered EMALS both costly and contentious, drawing even presidential criticism.^[43] By 2023, however, sustained testing and design refinements had markedly improved its reliability. The balance between innovation and operational dependability shifted, restoring the US Navy’s confidence to equip subsequent carriers with this next-generation launch system.

Overall, EMALS offers a cleaner alternative.^[44] Its launch force can be calibrated to aircraft weight and mission profile, expanding the range of aircraft types, from next-generation fighters to drones that can be operated from the deck. Maintenance demands are lower, though the technological threshold remains steep, requiring world-class expertise in electrical engineering and electromagnetic systems. For Beijing, which was investing heavily in these fields, the challenge was as much in innovation ecosystems as in shipbuilding. Therefore, China decided to leap forward in technology, skipping the steam catapult technology altogether and investing in the EMALS tech.

China’s EMALS Tech-Development Cluster

China’s electromagnetic launch system research gathered real momentum between 2003 and 2011, when Professor Ma’s team at the PLA Naval University of Engineering registered its first breakthrough. In 2010, Ma received the National Science and Technology Progress Award^[54] and used his acceptance speech to declare that China had successfully mastered EMALS, an extraordinary admission given the secrecy of such programmes. The next six years were spent transforming laboratory prototypes into a deployable system,^[55] while Ma simultaneously fought to establish the credibility of his research within the scientific community and to persuade the Navy of the system’s operational value. By late 2016, the payoff was clear: Chinese state media reported J-15 launches from land-based EMALS test tracks.^[56] Recognition followed quickly. Ma received the “August 1st Medal” in 2017,^[57] the country’s highest military award, while his lieutenants, Xiao Fei and Wang Dong, shared First-Class State Merit Awards. By 2019, Ma had pole-vaulted into the Communist Party’s Central Committee.^[58]

The technology reached full maturity aboard the Fujian (Type 003), China’s first EMALS-equipped carrier. In September 2025, the ship executed three headline launches: a J-35 stealth fighter, a J-15, and a KJ-600 airborne early warning aircraft. The J-35 launch was historic,^[59] the first electromagnetic catapult-assisted launch of a stealth aircraft from any carrier, and came years ahead of the US Navy. Washington’s own EMALS-equipped carrier, the USS Gerald R. Ford, has performed multiple launches, but not yet with an F-35, hampered by platform-integration challenges that Beijing, remarkably, seems to have sidestepped.

For China, Fujian’s trials were more than engineering validation; they were theatre.^[60] Catapulting a stealth fighter from its own deck signalled a generational advance in naval aviation and a psychological victory in the carrier race. EMALS has given Beijing a visible marker of technological parity with, and in some areas advantage over, the US. For a navy once derided as “coastal”, this demonstration of blue-water capability carries both strategic and symbolic power.

The PLAN’s Post-Induction Carrier Aviation Experience

The induction of CNS Liaoning, CNS Shandong and recently, CNS Fujian has marked a decisive step in the PLA Navy’s longstanding pursuit of blue-water capability. Liaoning, carrying 36 aircraft, including 24 J-15 fighters, six Z-8/Z-18F anti-submarine helicopters, and four Kamov-31 or Z-18 airborne early warning platforms, conducted its first operational deployment in 2017, followed by a high-profile port call in Hong Kong. Shandong, China’s first domestically built carrier, features an enlarged hangar and can embark over 40 aircraft, including up to 36 J-15s, reflecting incremental advances in Chinese carrier design. Each carrier strike group adheres to a standardised composition: a Type 055 guided-missile cruiser for area air defence, Type 052 destroyers and Type 054 frigates for screening, a Type 901/Fuyu-class supply vessel for logistics support, and typically a submarine for undersea capabilities. In its first seven years of service, Liaoning functioned primarily as a training platform. To accelerate the development of carrier-qualified crews, the PLAN assigned two personnel to each billet (official position), effectively doubling the complement and creating berthing constraints on a ship already housing over 2,000 personnel.

To mitigate this, the PLAN acquired a barracks ship:^[61] a converted cruise vessel with defensive features, accommodation for 2,500 personnel, and 30 days of autonomy before resupply. Liaoning’s barracks ship, Xi Xiake (Hull 88), displaces 30,000 tons, reaches 17 knots, and has a range of 8,000 miles. Beyond providing accommodation, it carries simulators and training facilities to support naval personnel. Shandong has been paired with a similar auxiliary.

The reliance on barracks ships illustrates both the challenges of sustaining large-deck operations and the lack of nearby naval bases and Beijing’s adaptive approach to building the operational ecosystem for carrier aviation. While Liaoning and Shandong remain limited in capability compared to US carriers, they have enabled China to train personnel, refine strike group operations, and establish the logistical and support structures essential for future carrier development.

Aviation Operations: Sortie Generation

On 23 November 2012, a J-15 fighter conducted China’s first successful take-off and landing on the carrier Liaoning,^[62] marking a milestone in the PLA Navy’s carrier-aviation development. Since then, Beijing has committed significant resources to building an operationally credible carrier force. Progress, however, has been measured, with caution as the guiding principle, evident throughout the first decade of experimentation.

During much of this period, the PLAN restricted carrier-based fixed-wing operations to within the unrefuelled range of a divert airfield. Until 2022, both Liaoning and Shandong operated largely within 400–500 nautical miles of shore and never exceeded 700 miles. Operations remained concentrated in the East China Sea, areas immediately beyond the first island chain, and other proximate waters. The limitations were equally apparent in sortie generation: Liaoning averaged approximately 20 sorties per day, far below the 150-plus daily sorties regularly achieved by US carriers, as shown in figure 2.

Figure 2: Sortie Generation Rate of Major Aircraft Carriers

Source: Author’s own, using various open sources

The induction of Shandong marked a shift, highlighted by a nine-day operation in which the PLAN reported sortie generation rates of up to 63 per day,^[63] signalling both improved crew proficiency and enhanced operational confidence.

Divert Airfields and Dual Carrier Operations

The more consequential milestone came in December 2022, when Liaoning demonstrated blue-water operations by conducting flight activities nearly 1,400 nautical miles from the nearest divert airfield,^[64] near Guam, without the safety net of nearby naval bases, as shown in Figure 4. During these 15-day exercises, the carrier completed 320 aircraft sorties. 

Figure 3: Three Island Chains Around China

Source: Jamestown^[65]

Figure 4: China’s Blue Water Carrier Operations in 2022

Source: Dahm^[66]

Since 2024, the PLAN has begun experimenting with conducting dual-carrier operations, integrating Liaoning and Shandong in coordinated exercises in the South China Sea.^[67] This progression underscores a steady, if incremental, enhancement of China’s carrier-aviation capabilities, moving from tightly constrained coastal deployments to sustained operations farther afield. While the scale and intensity still lag behind US practice,^[68] the trajectory points to a more confident and capable carrier force in the making.

The Third Carrier Fujian

China initiated construction of its third aircraft carrier at Jiangnan Shipyard in 2015,^[69] culminating in the 2022 launch and 2025 commissioning of Fujian.^[70] The carrier represents a significant technological advance, incorporating three EMALS catapults, integrated electric propulsion, and a 316-meter-long, 76-meter-wide flat flight deck (Table 1). With a displacement of 80,000–85,000 tons,^[71] it can deploy over 50 aircraft, including J-15 and J-35 fighters, KJ-600 airborne early warning aircraft, and helicopters. Fujian is pivotal to sustaining far-seas combat operations to the second island chain and marks a decisive stage in the PLAN’s strategic transition from near-seas defence to far-seas protection.^[72]

Table 1: Aircraft Carrier Comparison: Dimensions

Carrier (State)	Length (meters)	Beam (meters)	Draft (meters)	Displacement (tons-full load)	Aircraft Capacity
Liaoning (China)	305	70	10.5	60,000	36
Shandong (China)	305	75	11	66,000	40+
Fujian (China)	316	76	12.5	80,000	50
Ford-class (US)	337	78	12.2	100,000	75–90
INS Vikramaditya (India)	284	60	10.5	45,000	30–36
INS Vikrant (India)	262	62	8.5	40,000	30–36
Charles De Gaulle (France)	261.5	64.36	9.43	42,500	30-40
Queen Elizabeth (UK)	284	73	11	80,600	65+

Source: Author’s own, using various open sources

The J-35 stealth fighter, long rumoured to be in development, has now been deployed on Fujian’s deck, where it is intended to fulfil the air-superiority role.^[73] In addition, the J-15T heavy strike fighters are designed to engage both sea and land targets, providing the carrier with potent offensive capability.

The KJ-600 airborne early warning aircraft enhances detection and surveillance range, thereby extending the carrier’s defensive and strike envelope. Derived from the Xian Y-7 transport, China’s variant of the Antonov An-24,^[74] the KJ-600 is a 25–30-ton aircraft with four rudders and foldable wings, carrying a crew of five to six to a range of 1,250 km. Equipped with a large AESA radar housed in a dorsal radome, it can survey an area of 450 km from a flight ceiling of 15,000 meters. Together with the carrier’s complement of deck-based helicopters, these aircraft provide Fujian with substantial capability to conduct sustained combat operations at sea.

In November 2023, Fujian successfully launched a counterweight pulley,^[75] signalling that its onboard EMALS had entered final-stage testing. Sea trials commenced in May 2024, and since then, the carrier has conducted numerous high-tempo activities. As of November 2025, the carrier has maintained an accelerated schedule of sea and flight operations, demonstrating both its air and maritime capabilities. Finally, open-source reporting suggests that China has commenced construction of its fourth aircraft carrier, signalling continued expansion of its carrier fleet.^[76]

Limitations and Operational Implications

The PLA’s primary constraint in carrier aviation remains operational experience. The first generation of carrier-borne personnel has only recently moved into senior positions and is gradually acquiring the expertise necessary for sustained and complex carrier operations. Both earlier commissioned carriers are currently optimised for near-shore defence and rely heavily on land-based radars and early warning aircraft. Their effectiveness in an anti-access/area denial (A2/AD) role also depends on support from land-based anti-ship ballistic missiles and long-range bombers equipped with cruise missiles. They are not designed for the high-intensity strike operations typical of US carrier groups; instead, they are suited to sequential, wave-based attacks against a peer adversary.

The Fujian promises to shift this balance, introducing enhanced capability into China’s carrier force. With three carriers, the PLA Navy is expected to adopt a three-carrier operational philosophy: one vessel in refit and maintenance while the other two conduct combined training and form a strike group. In a contingency scenario involving Taiwan, these carriers could be deployed in an A2/AD posture between the first and second island chains to constrain US support and strike adversary targets.

However, as conventionally powered vessels, the operational endurance of all Chinese carriers remains a conspicuous vulnerability. Backed by Type 901 supply ships, their conventional propulsion constrains transit speed, limiting on-station endurance to roughly 15–18 days.^[77] While the PLAN’s carriers now match their counterparts in tonnage and air-wing capacity, propulsion remains a structural weakness. Disrupting these logistic vessels could swiftly erode their combat endurance in a protracted conflict, an operational shortfall that would become even more acute in contingencies far from China’s littoral zones, beyond the reach of its radar and missile cover.

Figure 5: Distance Factor Across Western Pacific Bases and Island Chains

Source: Author’s own, measured through Google Earth

Looking ahead, China is pursuing the development of multiple strategic support bases to sustain its carrier operations. Potential locations include Bangladesh, Pakistan, Cambodia, and Sri Lanka, reflecting Beijing’s intent to project maritime power beyond the near seas.^[78]

Regional Security Dimension

The US Naval Forces in the Indo-Pacific: Retrenchment Paradigm

For nearly eight decades, the Indo-Pacific has been defined by two interlocking pillars of American power: forward-deployed naval forces sustained by an extensive network of bases and a durable alliance system that enabled Washington to monitor and counter China’s maritime rise. This structure once appeared unshakeable, but it is now approaching a breaking point.

The region is undergoing a historic power transition. The PLAN has already surpassed the US Navy as the world’s largest fleet by ship count and continues to expand at a faster pace. This trajectory places unrelenting stress on America’s alliance architecture.^[79] Questions about wartime access to allied facilities are no longer hypothetical; they reflect growing uncertainty about whether US partners will risk entanglement in a high-intensity conflict with China.^[80] At the same time, the US Navy is losing capability. Shrinking force levels, prolonged maintenance cycles, and overstretched deployments have eroded Washington’s ability to project sustained combat power across the region.

Although the capital acquisition budget remains a persistent concern, the principal driver of the US Navy’s contraction is the deterioration of America’s shipbuilding industry. China today operates 13 naval shipyards, whereas the US has been reduced to only two, down from eight in 1990. Expectedly, Chinese shipbuilding capacity is 232 times larger than that of the US.^[81] Even the former US Secretary of the Navy has acknowledged that a single Chinese shipyard now possesses more capacity than all American shipyards combined.^[82]

The consequences are most visible in the submarine force. To sustain deployment rates, US shipyards have been forced to cannibalise parts from submarines still under construction. Production remains stalled at 1.2 boats per year, ^[83] well short of the Navy’s target of two submarines annually, while China is delivering three submarines each year. The surface fleet faces similar pressure: China launches an average of 3.1 destroyers annually, compared with the US rate of just 1.6.^[84] The result is an accelerating gap. The PLAN, already the world’s largest fleet, is poised not only to expand further in numbers but also to outpace the US in overall tonnage within the next decade. The scale of China’s shipbuilding advantage ensures that this trajectory is structural, not cyclical, and will continue to widen unless the US undertakes a radical revitalisation of its naval-industrial base.

The steady erosion of US naval capacity has now converged with political volatility at home. President Donald Trump’s capricious and transactional foreign policy has deepened allied scepticism about American commitments and given fresh impetus to Beijing’s campaign to displace the US as the Indo-Pacific’s central power. The result is a perilous convergence: China is accelerating in naval strength just as the US falters in both credibility and capacity.

Even America’s senior defence leadership has acknowledged the trend. In 2021, Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin noted that the overall gap between US and Chinese military capabilities had narrowed.^[85] This recognition has prompted a stream of strategic thinking in Washington that suggests retrenchment, pulling US naval forces back to more defensible positions in the Western Pacific and Indian Ocean.^[86] The logic is clear: anchor forces in Guam, Australia, and Diego Garcia constrain the PLAN within East Asian waters and secure nearby chokepoints to limit Beijing’s ability to expand naval operations beyond the first and second island chains.

In parallel, the US Navy has intensified its emphasis on distributed lethality, dispersing offensive power across a wider array of platforms to complicate adversary targeting. It has simultaneously accelerated the induction of unmanned undersea systems such as the Orca XLUUV, alongside long-range anti-ship missiles and other adaptive operational strategies designed to offset China’s growing maritime advantage in the Indo-Pacific. This doctrinal and technological shift reflects Washington’s effort to restore deterrence through a more resilient, networked, and horizontally distributed force posture.

As maritime East Asia hardens into a bipolar theatre,^[87] the US Navy has increasingly become receptive to the concept, best described as “retrench to reload”:^[88] consolidating its positions, expanding access to peripheral bases, and buying time to regenerate industrial and operational strength. The problem, however, is that retrenchment signals both resilience and weakness. While it may create space for a long-term contest, it also risks conceding initiative to Beijing. As the new US National Security Strategy pivots toward homeland defence in the Western Hemisphere, the central question emerges: is American naval retrenchment a pause to reload or the first step toward retreat? 

Indian Navy: Aircraft Carriers and Beyond

For decades, the Indian Navy’s aircraft carrier force was a quiet source of envy for the Chinese Navy, a fact often reflected in the undertones of their bilateral interactions.^[89] India commissioned its first carrier, INS Vikrant, in 1961, the first such vessel in Asia, thereby laying the foundation of its naval aviation capability. Over the following nearly seven decades, India steadily refined this expertise, accumulating operational experience unmatched in the region.

Vikrant demonstrated its worth during the 1971 India–Pakistan War, when its air wing enforced a blockade of East Pakistan and struck critical targets at Chittagong, Cox’s Bazar, and other logistical hubs.^[90] Its decisive performance not only earned distinction but also underscored the strategic value of carrier-based aviation. Building on this legacy, India has inducted three carriers: INS Viraat in 1987, INS Vikramaditya in 2013, and the indigenous INS Vikrant in 2022, with the latter two now in active service. Together, they embody India’s long-standing commitment to carrier aviation and its ambition to remain a dominant maritime power in the Indian Ocean.

However, several factors have consistently constrained Indian carrier aviation. First, the overall defence budget has remained limited, and the Navy’s allocation has been insufficient to realise its strategic ambitions, as illustrated in Table 2.

Table 2: Indian Defence Budget and Navy’s Share

Fiscal Year	Total Defence Budget (INR crore)	Total Defence Budget (US$)	Navy's Share (%)	Revenue Budget (US$)	Capital Acquisition (US$)
2016–17	3,51,550	54.95	10.4	2.78	2.96
2017–18	3,74,004	58.46	9.75	2.88	2.82
2018–19	4,05,194	62.33	9.97	3.01	3.2
2019–20	4,31,011	60.4	10.3	2.7	3.52
2020–21	4,85,681	63.3	12.76	3.07	5.01
2021–22	5,02,884	65.6	14.61	3.28	6.31
2022–23	5,25,166	66.2	14.9	3.87	6.0
2023–24	593,537	71.5	14.35	3.9	6.36
2024–25	6,21,940	75.0	15.06	4.3	7.0
2025–26	6,81,210	78.4	14.26	3.93	7.25

Source: Author’s own, using data from India’s Yearly Budget Documents^[91]

As shown in Table 2, the Navy’s share has historically remained around 14-15 percent of the total defence budget, encompassing both revenue and capital expenditures. Before 2020, this amounted to roughly a maximum of US$3.5 billion in capex per year. Considering that the Navy must procure destroyers, frigates, submarines, smaller warships, and other costly platforms, acquiring an aircraft carrier must be evaluated through a cost–benefit lens relative to other urgent capabilities. Consequently, carrier development has often remained a secondary priority, reflecting broader fiscal and strategic constraints.

Second, despite operating aircraft carriers for nearly seven decades, the Indian Navy has rarely led the development of a carrier-capable aircraft or helicopter. Historically, all carrier-based aircraft were imported from Britain, France, Russia, or the US. The sole indigenous attempt, the single-engine LCA-Navy, was funded, developed, and successfully tested on land and at sea, but the Navy refused to induct it, citing its single-engine configuration and perceived lack of power. The Navy could have used the LCA-Navy to induct a small squadron for training and limited operations, generating indigenous production experience and operational feedback to inform future aircraft programmes. As a result, the Navy still lacks a carrier-capable trainer aircraft, relying on land-based trainers or on the demanding MiG-29K aboard carriers, which already face low availability rates, increasing the risk of accidents and limiting operational proficiency.

The Indian Navy, instead, moved to pursue the development of a non-stealthy, twin-engine deck-based fighter (TEDBF) as a standalone carrier fighter, despite a paltry requirement of roughly 100 aircraft. In doing so, it bypassed the Air Force’s Advanced Medium Combat Aircraft (AMCA) programme, where its participation could have accelerated an approved and in-development stealth fighter project and strengthened joint indigenous development.^[92]

This approach has left the Navy without a tangible indigenous aircraft even after a decade. Indigenous carrier aviation cannot succeed at such a limited scale, making the TEDBF programme a strategically untenable pursuit. Consequently, the Navy has reverted to imports, contracting 26 French Rafales for carrier deployment. The absence of an indigenous carrier-capable fighter renders medium or heavy aircraft carrier induction extraordinarily expensive and creates a strategic misalignment with the Navy’s long-term carrier ambitions.

Third, over the past two decades, India has concluded a series of strategic and defence agreements with the US since 2004: the Next Steps in Strategic Partnership (2004), the Defence Framework Agreement (2005), the Indo-US Civil Nuclear Agreement (2008), the Defence Technology and Trade Initiative (DTTI) (2012), recognition as a Major Defence Partner (2016), Strategic Trade Authorization Tier-1 status, and the initiation of 2+2 dialogues in 2018. All foundational agreements were signed by 2020, followed by the renewal of a ten-year major defence partnership framework in October 2025.

These agreements have led the Indian Navy to place considerable hope in acquiring critical naval technologies from the US military-industrial complex, particularly in the aircraft-carrier domain. Towards this, the two nations established the Joint Working Group on Aircraft Carrier Technology Cooperation (JWGACTC) under DTTI in 2015 to promote bilateral collaboration in naval aviation. By 2025, the group had convened its 8th meeting in New Delhi,^[93] yet India had not received even a fraction of the anticipated carrier technology. Instead, the US has capitalised on the relationship to sell over US$22 billion in military hardware to India since 2008.^[94]

The Indian Navy had envisioned the US support for constructing its future large aircraft carrier and for acquiring EMALS technology, but these ambitions remain unrealised. This mono-focused reliance on US cooperation, combined with insufficient de-risking, has constrained the Navy’s ability to pursue alternative partnerships or innovative diplomatic avenues, leaving its carrier aspirations partially stunted and raising questions about the strategic wisdom of overreliance on a single partner.

Finally, the Indian Navy’s long experience with smaller air-defence carriers has entrenched a “small-carrier mentality” within its senior leadership, constraining strategic ambition. As a result, instead of pursuing a large CATOBAR carrier suited for blue-water operations and expeditionary missions, the Navy has considered acquiring another carrier similar in size to the INS Vikrant, around 45,000 tons.^[95] While such carriers suffice for fleet air defence, they will be outmatched when larger Chinese carriers enter the Indian Ocean, as seems increasingly likely within a decade. Without larger carriers or a stable complement of indigenous carrier-capable aircraft, the Indian Navy could find itself strategically constrained in presenting a credible maritime front. This gap highlights the potential consequences of a cautious, incremental approach to carrier development in an era of rapidly evolving regional naval capabilities.

Conclusion

China’s carrier programme has moved from hesitant ambition to operational reality. For decades, limited budgets, a continental threat perception, and the PLA Army’s dominance constrained naval modernisation, while the lack of indigenous shipbuilding expertise delayed progress. The turning point came when Beijing recognised that carriers served not merely as symbols of prestige but as instruments of anti-access/area-denial and power projection within and beyond the second island chain. Acquiring the ex-Soviet Varyag cut about 15 years from development, enabling the Liaoning and Shandong. Cautious but deliberate, the PLA Navy is steadily building carrier expertise and reshaping regional maritime balances.

Since their induction, the PLAN’s carriers have shifted from cautious near-sea training to sustained blue-water operations, now reaching as far as 1,400 nautical miles from the mainland. Growing confidence in the J-15T and other carrier-borne aircraft has emboldened these forays, while Fujian promises a qualitative leap. Its electromagnetic launch system will enable operations of the J-35, KJ-600, and unmanned platforms, substantially enhance sortie generation and pave the way for true three-carrier formations—two on deployment while one undergoes maintenance.

However, serious limitations persist. Carrier aviation in China is barely a decade old, leaving a shallow pool of experienced pilots and commanders. All three carriers are conventionally powered, constraining sustained speed and endurance in combat to two or three weeks, with logistics ships a vulnerable lifeline. Finally, Beijing’s long-standing weakness in anti-submarine warfare leaves its carriers exposed to US nuclear submarines. Despite technological strides, China’s carrier force remains an ambitious but still untested instrument of power projection. Moreover, combat experience across the Chinese armed forces is shallow, and carrier aviation is no exception.

While the US shipbuilding industry faces structural challenges, particularly against China’s surging industrial capacity, the US Navy still commands formidable capabilities amid the PLAN’s expansion. China may approach or even surpass the US in total tonnage and hull numbers, but quantitative growth does not translate into qualitative parity. The US Navy retains a decisive technological and operational edge, anchored in its eleven nuclear-powered aircraft carriers, larger, more advanced, and combat-proven, and over 65 nuclear-powered submarines that ensure sustained global reach. In contrast, the PLAN operates only three conventionally powered carriers and about a dozen nuclear-powered submarines, underscoring the enduring asymmetry between numbers and true maritime power.

Nevertheless, for decades after the Second World War, US naval supremacy was unrivalled, allowing quiet confidence rather than overt display. That era is ending. The fleet is overstretched, hulls are ageing, readiness is declining, and shipyards are struggling to meet demand. Meanwhile, China’s accelerating naval buildup continues to alter the maritime balance. US admirals now caution that the greatest threat is not solely Beijing but years of domestic neglect: chronic underinvestment and political division eroding America’s maritime strength. Retrenchment may preserve core capabilities, but it also exposes a stark reality: US naval dominance in the Indo-Pacific can no longer be taken for granted.

These dynamics will shape the balance of power in the Western Pacific and Indian Ocean. India’s carrier-aviation experience and geographic advantage give it a pivotal role in the Indo-Pacific contest. However, if US forces continue to retrench, New Delhi will face mounting pressure to devise creative responses to China’s eventual carrier presence in its neighbourhood. Whether India pursues a coherent strategy, investing in larger carriers and indigenous carrier-borne aircraft, or remains indecisive and underprepared will determine its ability to shape, rather than merely react to, the evolving regional maritime order.

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Atul Kumar is Fellow, National Security and China Studies, Strategic Studies Programme, ORF.

All views expressed in this publication are solely those of the author, and do not represent the Observer Research Foundation, either in its entirety or its officials and personnel.

Endnotes

• International Affairs
• China
• china aircraft carrier programme
• china aircraft carriers
• chinese aircraft carrier programme
• electromagnetic aircraft launch system
• fujian aircraft carrier
• people liberation navy

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