Ukraine’s Way of War is Coming to the Persian Gulf

Donald Trump has long sought to disguise his dislike of Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky. But his contempt showed through in mid-March when he rebuffed Kyiv’s offer to help defend the U.S. and its allies in the Persian Gulf. The “last person we need help from is Zelensky,” the 47th president said scornfully in two news interviews. “We know more about drones than anybody. We have the best drones in the world, actually.”  

American allies in the Gulf see things differently. Nearly a dozen Middle Eastern countries have approached Kyiv in recent weeks seeking cooperation as they struggle to fend off Iranian drones and missiles. Israeli President Benjamin Netanyahu has called Kyiv to initiate talks. Even traditionally pacifist Japan is considering buying Ukrainian drones, and Zelensky has sent some 230 drone experts—advisers and pilots—to the Gulf. Last week, he signed long-term security agreements with Saudi Arabia and Qatar and promised more were on the way.  

What everyone but Trump seems to understand: After more than four years of fiercely competitive drone warfare, Ukraine is the world’s drone superpower with some of the best weaponry and an agile, innovative defense industrial base to back it up. 

But the opening this creates—for Ukraine, the U.S., and its allies—will be squandered if the parties fail to seize the opportunity. 

Overall, the war in Iran has not been good for Ukraine. The fighting has dramatically increased oil prices—an immediate, tangible benefit for Vladimir Putin, who depends on oil revenues to pay for the war in Ukraine. Higher fuel costs threaten to cripple the Ukrainian army—tanks, artillery, and armored personnel carriers all guzzle expensive diesel fuel. Perhaps worst of all, the U.S. and its allies are burning through the air-defense interceptors that Kyiv needs to down Russian ballistic missiles.  

In the first days of fighting, American and Gulf forces fired more than 800 Patriot interceptors, often using these million-dollar weapons to shoot down Iranian drones worth only tens of thousands of dollars. By comparison, since 2022, the West has sent Ukraine about 600 Patriot missiles. 

The West’s new interest in Ukraine’s drone prowess is the one bright side in this somber picture. 

Drone expertise has not come easily or cheaply in Ukraine. A handful of startups began experimenting with unmanned aerial vehicles—previously used mainly by farmers and civilian photographers—in 2014 to counter Moscow-backed separatist fighters. But the fledgling industry had not developed much by the time the Russian army invaded in 2022. Just a handful of manufacturers made simple platforms used mainly for reconnaissance and to correct artillery fire.  

Four years later, drones dominate the battlefield in Ukraine—essential technology for both Kyiv and Moscow. More than 500 Ukrainian companies make dozens of varieties of uncrewed platforms for use in the air, on land, and at sea. Short-range, quadrocopter, first-person-view (FPV) strike drones buzz constantly over the combat zone, rendering it unsafe for soldiers to stand in the open air for even a few seconds. Midrange Iranian Shahad drones—and a much-improved Russian version called Gerans—terrorize Ukrainian cities. Lacking access to Western missiles, Ukraine has poured resources into longer-range drones and missiles that can deliver fire as far away as Moscow.  

In 2025, Ukraine produced some 4 million FPV drones. Its goal in 2026 is 7 million. Meanwhile, Russia has fired nearly 60,000 Shahed and Geran drones at Kyiv and other cities. Every Ukrainian knows their distinctive sound—a loud, low-pitched hum, like a moped or a lawnmower. Together, Russian and Ukrainian drones are said to be responsible for some 70 to 80 percent of battlefield casualties.  

But wars are not won by weapons alone, and Ukraine’s biggest wartime advantage is what’s often called the “ecosystem” that supports its use of drones. The two opposing armies are locked in an unrelenting technology race, each constantly pushing the other to introduce new features and capabilities. But the similarities end there. Almost every Ukrainian combat unit has a team of IT technicians and a drone shop. Frontline soldiers provide a stream of real-time feedback to manufacturers—what works, what doesn’t work, what specific improvements would be useful.  

Unlike in the West, where it often takes a decade or more to develop a new weapon, the Ukrainian innovation cycle is just a few months. Tactics change even faster than technology. Drone pilots are the new infantry—the most exposed and most vulnerable fighters on the front line. Dozens of Ukrainian companies and combat units maintain their own pilot schools, and every Ukrainian soldier knows something about drone warfare. 

Still another big difference from Western weaponry, which tends to be complex and expensive: Ukrainians, like the Soviets they learned from, prefer arms and ammunition that’s “good enough”—simple, easy to use, easily expendable, and cheap. A single Patriot PAC-3 missile costs approximately $4 million. Shaheds and Gerans range between $20,000 and $50,000. American Merops interceptors—drones designed to shoot down other drones, battle-tested and much improved after more than a year of use in Ukraine—cost the Pentagon $10,000. Similar—some say more effective—Ukrainian interceptors sell for about $1,000.  

But the Ukrainians’ biggest secret, still not widely understood by the Gulf states seeking to learn from them, is how they use a variety of drones and missiles to layer air defenses. A low-cost network of radar and acoustic sensors spots and tracks Russian incoming. The first line of defense is often electronic jamming and spoofing. Patriots and other so-called “exquisite” Western weapons are used to take out Russia’s highest flying and most expensive missiles. Closer to the ground, fighter aircraft, helicopters, and point defenses—antiaircraft guns and interceptors like the Merops systems—do the rest. Among the simplest staples of the bottom layer are repurposed machine guns mounted on pickup trucks or fired from low-flying aircraft.  

The Iran war presents ample opportunities for Ukraine, the U.S., and the Gulf states. America and its allies need Ukrainian hardware and know-how—drone technology, tactics, pilot training, and more. Ukraine needs Patriot interceptors—Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Kuwait, Qatar, and Bahrain have significant stores. And Kyiv is desperately short of money, both to prosecute the war and, eventually, to rebuild. But sizeable obstacles stand in the way. 

The first obstacles are in the Gulf. Neither Saudi Arabia nor the other Gulf states have shown much sympathy for Ukraine over the past four years. As most of the world took sides, either for Kyiv or for Moscow, the Gulf capitals remained neutral—and often barely disguised their efforts to help Russia evade Western sanctions.  

The U.S.-Israeli invasion of Iran changed that. Within days, the Gulf states were making overtures in Ukraine. Some reached out to the government; others courted drone manufacturers, who reported that their phones were constantly ringing. Qataris have traveled to Ukraine to tour a drone factory and visit what Ukrainians call a “polygon”—a weapons testing site. 

Ukraine’s first response was to send what it called “advisers” to five countries—Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Qatar, Kuwait, and Jordan. By the third week of March, Zelensky admitted, “We are working on the spot”—Ukrainian drone pilots were partnering with local forces to shoot down Iranian drones.  

Still, Ukrainian industry insiders report, these budding relationships have proved frustrating. “We’re speaking different languages,” one manufacturer explained, and he didn’t mean tongues or dialects. “The Arabs think it’s all about money—you sign a contract, and you’re done.” What they’re missing: all the complex components that make up the Ukrainian drone support system—the frontline feedback loop, rapid innovation cycle, ever-changing battlefield tactics, and pilot training, among others.  

“It all takes time,” another insider explained. “The environment is different in the Middle East—even with our technology, they’ll need to develop their own approach.” But few Gulf governments or defense experts seem to know what they don’t know—they don’t appear to recognize that a drone deal is only the beginning. 

The second set of obstacles is American: the U.S. defense establishment’s lack of interest in the Ukrainian way of war. Kyiv has been making the case to Washington for several years. In August 2025, Zelensky brought a PowerPoint presentation to a closed-door White House meeting that included a map of the Middle East and explained how Iran was learning from Russia, both to make more sophisticated drones and use them more effectively, potentially to attack American forces and their Gulf allies. Zelensky had high hopes: He still dreams of a $35 to $50 billion deal with the U.S.—Ukrainian drone technology in exchange for Patriot interceptors, funding, and other kinds of economic cooperation. But nothing came of the White House meeting. 

The U.S. military is slowly adapting to drone warfare. Pentagon planners now say they regret the dismissive way they responded to Zelensky’s August offer. Operation Epic Fury is driving home a bitter lesson about cost—that it doesn’t pay to shoot down a cheap drone with a missile worth 100 times as much. There is even some recognition of Ukraine’s innovative technology and tactics. The U.S. Army has sent 10,000 Merops drones—American-designed but with significant Ukrainian input—to the Gulf. And two Ukrainian firms were recently selected to compete for contracts under the Pentagon’s $1 billion Drone Dominance program.  

Still, most insiders say, the U.S. is a long way from replicating the Ukrainian drone ecosystem. No Western nation will ever do things exactly as Ukraine does. Too many things are different in NATO countries, starting with centralized defense production and procurement and a preference for exquisite, expensive products rather than inexpensive, adaptable arms. But over time, we may have no choice, as enemies like Iran push us toward a different approach. 

The third set of obstacles, no less challenging than the other two, is Ukrainian. The fighting in the Gulf has brought a long-running domestic dispute to a head: Can a country at war afford to export weapons? 

After four years of explosive growth, Ukraine’s defense industry has much more productive capacity than its cash-strapped government can afford—in 2026, an estimated $55 billion in capacity, probably more than double what Kyiv has to spend.  

Manufacturers are desperate to sell this excess abroad—and not necessarily for financial reasons. Most hope to plough the profits back into their growing companies, and they say expanded production would allow them to reduce the price of the weapons they sell to the Ukrainian army—a double win for Kyiv. Most importantly, entrepreneurs argue, in the long run, the defense industry is poised to be a pillar of Ukraine’s postwar economy—but only if they can sell abroad now and secure a place in international defense markets. 

The problem: Ukraine’s 2022 martial law bars arms exports—and though Zelensky has been talking for over six months about lifting the ban, he has taken only baby steps. A few well-connected defense contractors have been allowed to cut deals with European companies to produce Ukrainian weaponry abroad. But the flow is tightly controlled, all the deals are discretionary—approved by a commission close to the president’s office—and no finished, ready-to-use weaponry or ammunition is being delivered abroad. 

The war in Iran has intensified this debate. Defense contractors besieged by offers from desperate Gulf states are more eager than ever to sell abroad. But a sharply worded early-March letter from the intelligence services warned manufacturers that attempts to export would expose them to “criminal liability,” and Zelensky appears to be holding out for bigger deals—trading Ukrainian drone know-how for Patriot interceptors and long-term economic cooperation.  

As the Gulf conflict heads into a second month, an edgy Ukrainian defense industry is uncertain what will come next. Some expect the dam to break in the coming weeks, opening the door to arms exports and other forms of market-driven defense cooperation. Other industry insiders are skeptical, predicting at best more tech transfer and joint-venture coproduction deals, and heavy-handed government discretion. 

The road ahead for Ukrainians and Westerners seeking expanded defense cooperation is unlikely to be easy, despite the promise revealed by the fighting in the Gulf. The war is upending the status quo, opening eyes and changing minds about the value of Ukraine’s hard-won wartime knowledge and experience. But Ukrainian manufacturers say there’s no time to waste. “Every month Kyiv delays authorizing exports,” one industry insider cautioned, “the more competitors we create abroad.” 

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