Hindustan Aeronautics Limited, a cornerstone of India’s defence ecosystem, recently issued a statement defending its approach to the prolonged grounding of over 330 Advanced Light Helicopters. This grounding was triggered by a fatal Indian Coast Guard crash in January 2025. It has raised concerns within the Services and Ministry of Defence, as it hinders operational preparedness. Operators, both serving and retired, have also expressed worry about the platform’s safety. So too has the domestic defence community, which keeps a sharp eye on the progress of indigenous defence capabilities.
HAL’s statement, however, has been less about accountability and more about deflecting blame. The company criticised adverse media reports, accusing them of harming stakeholders’ interests and spreading “false propaganda.” In a particularly condescending tone, via a series of posts on X, HAL targeted its critics—dismissing their concerns as the work of “so-called Defence analysts, former pilots, officers of the Defence Forces and arm-chair critics”. This arrogance not only undermines HAL’s credibility but also alienates the very stakeholders it claims to serve: the armed forces, taxpayers, and its own employees.
HAL’s statement is emblematic of deeper organisational hubris. While alleging that media stories are “one-sided and biased” and lack HAL’s perspective, the company ironically failed to provide a clear counter-narrative. Instead of addressing technical concerns—such as suspected swash-plate fractures causing the grounding—or outlining a roadmap for resolution, HAL resorted to rhetoric that dismissed legitimate critique. This is not a new pattern. In 2020, former Chief of Naval Staff Admiral Arun Prakash, a veteran with over four decades of aviation and leadership experience, criticised HAL’s handling of similar issues. Rather than engaging constructively, HAL issued a caustic rebuttal, stating it was “easy for retired persons to talk & give endless commentary.” Such dismissive responses reveal a culture resistant to feedback—even from those with unparalleled expertise.
To understand the silliness of HAL’s approach, let’s compare how other global defence firms have handled similar crises.
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HAL can learn from US, UK, Russia
Boeing, for instance, was severely criticised after the horrific 737 MAX crashes in 2018 and 2019, which killed 346 people. Yet, Boeing did not issue statements denigrating aviation analysts, former pilots, and safety professionals. Its initial response was flawed, marked by downplaying software issues and resisting fleet grounding. However, facing relentless scrutiny, Boeing pivoted toward accountability. It halted production, cooperated with the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA), and invested billions in fixes, including software patches and enhanced pilot training. While the financial toll was significant, Boeing never cited shareholder losses to silence critics. It prioritised transparency and reform to rebuild public confidence. HAL’s refusal to engage constructively—despite facing a similar predicament—stands in stark contrast to Boeing’s hard-learned lesson: that accountability, not defensiveness, drives success and is key to long-term credibility.
Similarly, the United Kingdom’s response to the 2006 Nimrod MR2 (XV230) crash in Afghanistan, which claimed 14 RAF personnel, offers a model HAL could emulate. The crash, caused by a design flaw in the aircraft’s fuel system, sparked overwhelming grief and public outcry. The Ministry of Defence (MoD) responded swiftly, launching a Royal Air Force Board of Inquiry (BOI) and later commissioning an independent review by Charles Haddon-Cave QC. These inquiries were exhaustive, tracing the flaw back to a 1969 design and identifying accountability across the MoD, RAF, BAE Systems, and QinetiQ. The Haddon-Cave report exposed a culture of “complacency” and cost-cutting that compromised safety, leading to systemic reforms and stricter airworthiness protocols. The coroner’s 2008 ruling that the Nimrod was “never airworthy” added legal weight and led to the fleet’s early retirement. Unlike HAL’s combative stance, the UK embraced criticism and turned it into reform—even at the cost of temporarily losing maritime patrol capability.
Even in Russia—where state-controlled media limits open scrutiny—the United Aircraft Corporation (UAC) handled the 5 May 2019, Sukhoi Superjet 100 crash at Moscow’s Sheremetyevo Airport, which killed 41 passengers, with greater sensitivity. UAC issued a concise statement of condolences and pledged full cooperation with the Interstate Aviation Committee investigation, which found the crash stemmed from a lightning-induced avionics failure. Rather than attacking critics, UAC focused on technical corrections, rolling out software updates and pilot training enhancements. HAL would do well to fix the flaws rather than fix the narrative.
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HAL must realise criticism isn’t enemy
The ALH Dhruv fleet’s grounding since January 2025 has had a detrimental impact on India’s armed forces, disrupting operations across the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Coast Guard. The Army struggles to resupply remote border posts, particularly in high-altitude regions. Civilian alternatives, such as Bell 412s leased from Thumby Aviation, lack the capacity, capability, and training to navigate hazardous environments. The Navy and Coast Guard now face diminished maritime surveillance and search-and-rescue (SAR) capabilities. Humanitarian and Disaster Relief (HADR) operations—a key element of India’s regional leadership—have also been compromised.
Beyond operations, the grounding has eroded military preparedness. Thousands of aircrew have lost flight currency, relegated to simulators that cannot fully replicate real-world flying conditions. Prolonged delays risk skill degradation and reduced morale, with many pilots reassigned to secondary roles. The absence of ALHs from high-profile events like the 2025 Republic Day flypast and Aero India, where the Sarang aerobatics team typically performs, has dented public perception and military pride. These disruptions underscore that HAL’s stakeholders extend far beyond shareholders—to include serving and retired military personnel, taxpayers, and HAL’s own employees, all of whom have a vested interest in the ALH programme’s success.
HAL must recognise that criticism is not the enemy. As former naval pilot Commander K P Sanjeev Kumar aptly responded to HAL’s X posts, “Your worst critic is not your enemy; just as a sycophant is not your best friend. Learn to differentiate.”
HAL must realise that in a democracy, scrutiny is a strength—not a liability.
HAL’s success is India’s success—but hubris threatens both. By listening to critics, engaging stakeholders, and prioritising accountability over defensiveness, HAL can turn this crisis into an opportunity to strengthen the ALH programme and enhance India’s defence readiness. The alternative—doubling down on arrogance—risks not just shareholder value but the trust of a nation counting on HAL to deliver.
Group Captain Ajay Ahlawat (R) is a former IAF officer. He tweets @Ahlawat2012. Views are personal.
(Edited by Prashant)
HAL is the weakest link of the Indian defence industry.
The sooner it is privatized, the better off our armed forces will be.