Ukraine’s strike, code-named “Spiderweb,” was one of the boldest operations in the history of aerial warfare—not because of its scale, but because of its simplicity and ingenuity. Using disguised shipping containers smuggled deep into Russian territory, the Ukrainians launched a swarm of small, low-cost drones from inside Russia’s own backyard.
And while much of the world focused on the spectacle of burning bombers and outmaneuvered defenses, military planners elsewhere were asking a different question: Could this kind of strike happen to us?
In Israel, the question carried particular urgency.
The Israeli Air Force—like Russia’s—relies on a relatively small number of airbases to project power, defend the nation and respond to threats. It is built for speed and flexibility, but even the most advanced aircraft can be rendered useless if they cannot safely take off. On Oct. 7, 2023, Hamas demonstrated its awareness of this vulnerability, directing massive rocket fire at Israeli airbases in the south to slow or prevent an Israeli air response. The attack had partial success. A similar drone-based assault might have done more.
That’s what made the Ukrainian operation so alarming.
The drones used in “Spiderweb” weren’t futuristic or advanced. They carried small charges, often less than three kilograms. But they flew autonomously toward their targets, received last-minute instructions from remote operators using civilian cellular networks, and struck only aircraft confirmed to be in operational use. They didn’t need to fly far because they were already in position—hidden in containers parked near airfields, indistinguishable from ordinary cargo.
If such a tactic were employed against Israel, the damage could be severe. A single F-15 hit on a runway could halt activity across a base. Even without explosions, drones could scatter debris—enough to force time-consuming inspections and shutdowns. The concept is chilling in its simplicity: paralyze the IAF not with firepower, but with delay.
Fortunately, the conditions that allowed Ukraine to pull off such a strike are unlikely to exist inside Israel. Hamas does not have the geographic depth or freedom of movement that the SBU exploited across Russia. Israel’s territory is small, dense, and tightly surveilled. Its bases are heavily fortified, and its anti-drone systems—some publicly known, many not—are designed for exactly these scenarios.
But it’s not just about defense systems. What makes the Ukrainian strike so instructive is that it redefines the battlefield. Power is no longer measured in fleets or firepower, but in precision, creativity, and timing. With enough planning, even a modest drone force can upend a major power’s strategy.
For Israel, the lesson is clear: technology alone is not a guarantee of security. Vigilance, adaptation, and intelligence are just as critical. The age of aerial warfare has entered a new chapter, where the hum of rotors may carry more danger than the roar of engines.
Yes, such an attack is possible. No, it wouldn’t be easy. But after June 1, no military can afford to assume that yesterday’s threats are the only ones that matter.
