Taiwan’s plan to procure tens of thousands of domestically built drones signals a deliberate bid for asymmetric leverage vis-à-vis China. However, production delays and training deficiencies raise questions about the effectiveness of stockpiling more drones to shift the strategic balance across the Taiwan Strait.
This month, the South China Morning Post (SCMP) reported that Taiwan’s Ministry of National Defense plans to acquire nearly 50,000 unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) between 2026 and 2027, aiming to strengthen asymmetric capabilities amid increasing military pressure from Beijing.
According to a government tender notice, the Armaments Bureau will purchase drones across five categories, from short-endurance multi-rotor platforms to long-range fixed-wing systems with payloads between 2.5 and 10 kilograms, all manufactured domestically and excluding mainland Chinese parts.
The initiative aligns with Taiwan’s new doctrine to treat drones as expendable munitions, similar to recent US military practice. The announcement followed televised demonstrations of indigenous drone models, including first-person view (FPV) strike drones, bomb-dropping platforms, and reconnaissance systems with electro-optic/infrared sensors.
Analysts say the specifications match existing prototypes, indicating synchronized development and procurement. However, experts warn that Taiwan’s limited training infrastructure and logistical base may reduce operational effectiveness. A government audit revealed gaps in operator qualifications and night-flight readiness, and strategic scholars have called for tiered licensing and maintenance systems to support deployment.
This push occurs as Beijing intensifies military activity around Taiwan, which it considers a renegade province. Washington, though not recognizing Taiwan as a sovereign state, remains legally obliged to supply defensive arms.
Taiwan’s push for “precision mass” highlights the ongoing imbalance, with production gaps risking turning ambition into symbolism rather than deterrence.
The concept of precision mass underpins Taipei’s UAV program. Aaron Barlow and others argue in a January 2025 War Quants article that precision mass marks a shift in modern warfare, where low-cost, “good-enough” munitions such as FPV drones and loitering munitions are deployed in overwhelming numbers to achieve effects once reserved for high-end systems.
Barlow and others note that, unlike surgical strikes, precision mass favors brute volume over exquisite targeting to saturate defenses and degrade adversary capabilities.
Ukraine has used FPV drones and loitering munitions to make up for its disadvantage in conventional artillery firepower against Russia, but they could not fully substitute for artillery. Bill Murray stresses in a May 2025 Small Wars Journal (SWJ) article that drones remain hampered by weather, limited payloads, and susceptibility to electronic warfare.
In contrast, Murray points out that artillery delivers massed, all-weather firepower with decisive range and destructive effect, making reliance on drones more a reflection of constrained resources than a doctrinal breakthrough.
Heavy artillery and saturation missile strikes retain a destructive power that drones cannot match. Drones excel at improving targeting and hitting exposed assets, but their yield is limited and their effects are localized.
By contrast, massed artillery can pulverize hardened defenses and blanket large areas with firepower—capabilities Taiwan may need to slow a beach landing or disrupt troop concentrations.
Nevertheless, Aadil Brar notes in a report this month for the S Rajaratnam School of International Studies (RSIS) that Taiwan’s drone program aims to develop asymmetric capabilities to disrupt the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) during an invasion rather than match platforms one-to-one.
Brar mentions that Taipei aims for an annual production capacity of 180,000 drones by 2030, but doubts remain about whether it can reach that target in just three years.
Even so, he points out that Taiwan has sought to expand output by incentivizing local manufacturers and partnering with foreign players, including the US and Germany, to upgrade systems and secure supply chains.
The structural challenges are still significant. According to Hong-Lun Tiunn and others in their June 2025 DSET report, Taiwan’s drone manufacturing faces hurdles such as high costs due to dependence on non-China parts, limited procurement opportunities beyond a key Ministry of National Defense contract, and a lack of foreign government orders.
Tiunn and others also highlight certification barriers and fragmented interagency planning. They add that more than 4,300 restricted flight zones further hinder testing and market access.
They point out that critical technologies—flight-control, positioning, and communications chips, as well as gimbal and thermal cameras—still depend on US imports. In addition, they say supply chains remain exposed to US export controls and, paradoxically, China-sourced battery materials and rare-earth magnets.
Harun Ayanoglu notes in a January 2025 Central European Institute of Asian Studies (CEAS) article that Taiwan’s inability to export weapons, including combat drones, deprives it of operational testing and battlefield feedback. These weaknesses blunt Taipei’s bid for self-reliance.
Despite skepticism, Brar adds that these efforts have already drawn limited responses from Beijing, with the PLA intensifying counter-drone training—electronic warfare drills, swarm-jamming exercises, and targeting UAV command centers—while China has also imposed sanctions on US drone firms involved in Taiwan’s ecosystem.
These reactions show that even Taiwan’s modest efforts carry strategic weight, but they also underscore Beijing’s capacity to adapt—raising doubts over how long Taipei can stay ahead in the counter-drone contest.
Strategic debates highlight a more profound dilemma. Tommy Jamison cites Lee Hsi-ming in a February 2024 War on the Rocks article, who argues that while Taiwan should be thankful for US support, it must also build the ability to resist China alone.
Lee criticizes what he calls Taiwan’s “America Complex,” whereby leaders procure high-end, high-visibility assets such as fighter jets, frigates, and amphibious assault ships that have little utility under current conditions.
During the Cold War, Taiwan and the US enjoyed a technological edge over the PLA, with the Kuomintang even entertaining plans to retake the mainland. That notion was always infeasible, and the balance has since tilted heavily in Beijing’s favor.
Drawing from Afghanistan and Ukraine, Lee argues that Taiwan should focus instead on developing capabilities—such as precision mass—that would allow it to defend itself without US support. Lee says Taiwan’s task is to frustrate Beijing’s political ambitions at forced reunification through credible deterrence.
Taiwan’s UAV efforts aren’t just about the quantity of drones bought, but whether they can be effectively integrated and used in combat situations. Training, resilient supply chains, and wartime production will be crucial in proving their real strategic value.
The PLA’s expanding counter-drone capabilities mean Taiwan’s UAVs will encounter serious obstacles in actual conflict. However, as seen in Ukraine, even limited effectiveness can impose costs on a stronger opponent, buying time and complicating plans.
Ultimately, Taiwan’s program will be judged less on procurement numbers than on whether its drones can operate as true force multipliers under fire—a verdict that will decide if the UAV surge delivers deterrence or merely symbolism.
