Transcription
On July 16, 2026, at Safran Aircraft Engines' test site in Istres, in the Bouches-du-Rhône region, an aircraft engine started for the first time, an engine that had no equivalent in the history of global aeronautics. It is called Phileas. It is hybrid-electric, it is at scale 1, meaning full-size, and it represents nothing less than the preview of aviation that will come after the reign of Leap. While this French demonstrator was sputtering its first hours of operation under the Provençal sun, on the other side of the Atlantic, nearly 720 Airbus airliners remained grounded, immobile, useless because the American engine that powers them has proven incapable of keeping its promises. This is the contrast that no one in France should ignore. On one side, a nation that is already starting the engine of tomorrow. On the other, an industrial superpower that can no longer even repair today's engine. We must measure what this moment represents because it is not a simple technical test among others. The campaign launched in Istres will extend over approximately 6 months and will accumulate nearly 300 hours of ground testing on one of the site's open-air test benches. It is financed by the Directorate General of Civil Aviation, the DGAC, as part of the major investment plan France 2030. This is the very plan designed to place our country at the forefront of the technological breakthroughs of the century. And the objective of Phileas is as ambitious as it is concrete. Two electric machines, each developing 250 kW, have been installed respectively on the high-pressure shaft and the low-pressure shaft of the turbofan. These machines are not simple passive generators; they operate in both directions, what engineers call bidirectional mode. In practical terms, this means that at the most demanding moment of flight, takeoff, they inject power into the thermal core of the engine, and during cruise, when demand decreases, they transform into generators and draw electricity to power the aircraft. An engine that gives and takes back, that pushes and recovers depending on the phase of flight. It is this flexibility that could save up to 20% of fuel for the next generation of medium-haul aircraft. This kind of feat obviously does not come out of nowhere. It is the culmination of a methodical, patient roadmap, typically French in its way of preparing the future without fanfare. Three years earlier, in 2023, a program called Dopi had already validated the operation of a 300 kW electric machine designed by Safran Electrical and Power, this time integrated onto a single shaft, the high-pressure one. The teams had then performed the very first power extractions and injections on this rotating shaft. Phileas builds on this know-how, doubles it, extends it to both shafts, and brings it to the full-scale of a complete engine equipped with its onboard power electronics and its electrical distribution system. We are moving from laboratory demonstration to the dress rehearsal of what will fly tomorrow. Pierre Cotano, Vice President of Engineering, Research, and Technology at Safran Aircraft Engines, summarized the matter without unnecessary emphasis, speaking of a key step in the maturation of hybrid-electric technologies and a decisive milestone towards their integration into future aircraft engines. But to understand why France can today afford to dream of the post-oil era, to calmly build the engine of the day after tomorrow while others are struggling, we must look at what lies behind Safran. We must understand on what foundation this audacity rests. Because this company is not playing sorcerer's apprentice with public money by betting on uncertain technology. It is advancing from a position of absolute strength, a position that very few people, even among aviation enthusiasts, fully appreciate. This position has a four-letter name that currently equips half of the world's medium-haul fleet and all Boeing 737 Max aircraft coming off the Seattle assembly lines. That name is that of an engine that has become so ubiquitous that it is almost invisible, like the air we breathe without thinking about it. And this is where the story becomes truly interesting for those who like to see France win. Because this engine that dominates the global commercial sky, this engine sold by the tens of thousands, this engine that generates billions and will continue to do so for decades through maintenance, well, it was born from a Franco-American bet sealed half a century ago. A bet where the French half today firmly holds the wheel, while the direct competitor to this engine, the other engine option offered on the same Airbus aircraft, is sinking into an industrial scandal of unprecedented scale. Two engines, two destinies. One carried by Safran's genius, the other mired in its own manufacturing defects to the point of turning brand-new aircraft into mere carcasses parked on tarmacs. To grasp the full extent of this dominance and understand how an engine can hold the entire world in its hand, we must go back. We must tell how a French company, formerly known as Snekma, reigned at the absolute pinnacle of the aeronautical industry by allying with an American giant, ultimately surpassing it in influence where no one expected it. It all began in 1974 when a French state-owned company, Snekma, decided to partner with the American General Electric to create a joint venture named CFM International, owned equally 50/50. At the time, the idea seemed risky. Snekma knew how to design military engines, but it sorely lacked experience in civil high-pressure turbines, and General Electric possessed precisely this missing piece. The very name of the fruit of this union, the CFM56, comes from the fusion of the companies' internal designations. For over 5 years, this engine found not a single customer, to the point that the program was weeks away from being purely and simply buried. Then, at the beginning of 1979, a dramatic turn of events. Delta, United Airlines, and Flying Tigers chose the new engine to re-engine their DC8s. In the wake of this, the US Air Force selected the same engine for its KC 135 tankers. The CFM56 was saved, and it was destined to become a legend. What followed exceeded all that its creators had dared to hope. Boeing chose the CFM 56 to power its 737 in its so-called classic version, with its characteristic flattened nacelle that gave the fuselage its instantly recognizable silhouette. Then Airbus adopted it in turn for the entire first-generation A320 family. As a result, this Franco-American engine ended up equipping the two best-selling airliners on the planet, simultaneously with the two rival aircraft manufacturers. Over 33,000 units delivered over the decades. A figure that made it the best-selling commercial engine in the entire history of aviation. With takeoff reliability close to 100% and an unparalleled time on wing without disassembly. The CFM56 was even the first aircraft engine in history to surpass the one-billion flight hour mark. This is the foundation. This is what France, through Snekma, which became Safran Aircraft Engines, had already accomplished before even thinking of doing better. Because that is precisely what it did. By extending the CFM partnership until 2040, the two partners launched the successor to the legendary engine, the Leap, whose very name rings like a promise, as it means "a leap forward" in English. And the leap was real. Entering commercial service in 2016, the Leap offers 15 to 20% lower fuel consumption compared to the previous generation, with correspondingly reduced emissions and a significantly lower noise level. But the most astonishing thing is not there. The most astonishing thing is the speed at which this engine conquered the world. It took the CFM 56 a long 17 years to reach 10,000 units delivered. For the Leap, it only took 10. August 2, 2016, marked the entry into service of the Leap 1A on an Airbus. A decade later, over 10,000 engines shipped and over 100 million flight hours accumulated. The pace has simply doubled. Gael Meust, President of CFM International, himself highlighted this obvious fact, recalling that such success comes with even greater responsibility towards customer airlines. We must understand the geography of this dominance, because it is overwhelming. The Leap comes in three variants. The 1B version is the sole, exclusive, mandatory engine for all Boeing 737 Max aircraft, without exception. The 1C version powers the Comac C919 from China. The 1A is offered as an option on the first-generation Airbus A320neo family, where it wins about 6 out of 10 selections against the competing engine. Add all this up, and you get an order book exceeding 20,400 engines, with nearly 11,600 still to be delivered. In other words, nearly 10 full years of full-capacity production are already sold, reserved, guaranteed. This is a financial visibility that almost no other industry in the world can boast. And each engine that leaves the factory represents only the beginning of the accounting story, because maintenance, spare parts, overhauls, and after-sales service often generate far more over the aircraft's lifespan than the initial sale of the turbine itself. This industrial treasure is assembled in France, notably in Villaroche, about fifty kilometers southeast of Paris, in a gigantic building where the synchronized assembly line for the Leap stretches 60 meters long and 20 meters wide. There, operators work with augmented reality, following instructions on a screen derived from the digital model of the engine, superimposed in real-time onto the image of the turbine they are assembling. Articulated stands pivot each engine on its horizontal axis to avoid any work at height. This is the industry of the future applied to a product already present everywhere. And to absorb the colossal demand, Safran is no longer content with France. The company has launched the construction of a second Leap 1A assembly line in Morocco, an investment of several hundred million euros that will make the Cherifian kingdom the second country in the world capable of assembling this engine, with the goal of supporting the ramp-up to 2,500 annual deliveries by 2028. The best proof of this supremacy was demonstrated before the eyes of the entire world just a few days ago at the Farnborough Airshow. The Indian airline IndiGo, the largest in India and one of the most dynamic globally, signed a memorandum of understanding for over 1,000 Leap 1A engines intended to power 510 Airbus A320neo family aircraft. Over 1,000 engines in a single order. This is quite simply the largest single order ever placed for Leap engines. An absolute record in the entire history of CFM. And if we wonder why an airline entrusts its destiny so readily to the Franco-French engine rather than its rival, the answer lies in a few words that we will now detail. Because on the other side of this choice lies an American industrial shipwreck that has turned entire fleets into open-air parking lots. This shipwreck also has a technical name: the Pratt & Whitney PW1100G. The famous geared turbofan engine that the Americans presented a few years ago as the revolution that would change the game. The principle was attractive on paper. Thanks to a gearbox placed between the fan and the turbine, each part of the engine could rotate at its optimal speed, promising less noise, less consumption, and greater efficiency. This geared architecture was intended to provide the A320neo with a second power source capable of competing with the Leap. For a time, the bet even seemed to hold. Then industrial reality caught up with the engineers in Hartford, and it did so in the most brutal way possible. The disaster has an almost microscopic origin. In the high-pressure turbine disks and certain compressor parts manufactured from sintered metal, meaning compacted metallic powder. A rare contamination crept in during production. This defect, invisible to the eye, weakens components that rotate at tens of thousands of revolutions per minute under extreme temperatures. In short, essential parts risked cracking well before their time. When the scale of the problem was understood in 2023, it was already too late to contain it discreetly. The manufacturer had to admit that hundreds of engines needed to be removed from wings and inspected urgently. The Federal Aviation Administration codified this with a cascade of airworthiness directives, and the countdown began for airlines worldwide. What followed is almost a logistical nightmare. An engine inspection that, in normal times, took about sixty days, began to take 300, sometimes 360 days. Nearly a full year during which the aircraft remains immobile, bringing in nothing, costing money without generating any. Maintenance workshops became congested, unable to absorb the influx. The figures are staggering. By the fall of 2025, over 800 aircraft equipped with this engine were stored, parked, unusable, representing nearly a third of the entire affected fleet. And throughout the months of 2026, up to 720 A320neos were counted grounded, which represents nearly four out of ten aircraft powered by this American engine. Think about it for a moment. Brand-new aircraft, barely out of the Airbus factory, unable to fly because their metallic heart threatens to give out. Some airlines have even preferred to dismantle brand-new jets to recover their more valuable engines intact rather than the aircraft around them. The cost of this fiasco is measured in billions. The engine manufacturer's parent company, the conglomerate RTX, had to book an exceptional charge of approximately 3 billion dollars, and the total bill for the problem is estimated between 6 and 7 billion dollars spread over several years. But behind these abstract figures are very real victims. The American airline Spirit Airlines, already weakened, saw a portion of its fleet immobilized by this engine defect. On May 2, 2026, after a second bankruptcy filing and the failure of a financial rescue, it ceased all operations and began liquidation. An airline founded in the 1980s, which had proven for decades that it was possible to fly at low prices, was simply erased from the sky. The engine problem was not the sole cause of its downfall, but it was one of the determining factors. Other carriers were not spared. The Hungarian airline Wizz Air had to constantly deal with 30 to 40 immobilized aircraft, to the point of abandoning its growth ambitions and leasing old planes to fill the gap. Meanwhile, pilots waited in pools without pay. Swiss International Air Lines grounded its entire small fleet of A220s to save engines that had become as rare as gold. As for the Italian airline ITA Airways, it demanded 150 million euros in compensation from the engine manufacturers. Everywhere, the same refrain, the same anger, the same powerlessness in the face of an American supplier unable to deliver healthy parts on time. And this is where the contrast becomes frankly humiliating for American industrial pride. Because those same A320neos, the ones that chose the Franco-French engine over the geared turbofan, fly almost without incident. Barely 4% of the Leap-powered fleet is immobilized for engine-related reasons, whereas the rate climbs to a third, sometimes 40% on the American side. 4% versus 40%. There is no clearer demonstration of the difference between mastery and approximation. On one side, an engine that keeps its promises of durability. On the other, an engine that has betrayed its. And while aircraft manufacturers desperately demand more Leaps to equip their assembly lines, the American engine manufacturer has finally admitted that a return to normal will not be achieved before the very end of the decade. In other words, several more years of convalescence to repair an engine that was supposed to embody progress. But reducing this story to the mere downfall of the competitor would be to miss the point. Because while America is exhausting itself patching up the breaches of its present, Safran has not contented itself with savoring its supremacy on the Leap. The company has dug into its own archives for a forgotten engine, a project many believed dead and buried, to make it an unexpected springboard towards tomorrow's propulsion. And it is this industrial resurrection, this very French way of turning a setback into a trampoline, that we will now recount. This resurrected engine is called the Silvercrest, and its story is that of a good idea that had never found its place. Designed by Safran to equip a new generation of high-end business jets, it was intended to offer top-tier aircraft modern, fuel-efficient, and powerful propulsion. But the aircraft programs it was destined for were canceled one after another, and the Silvercrest found itself orphaned, a brilliant engine without aircraft to power. Where many industrialists would have written off what looked like a commercial failure, French engineers saw something else entirely. They saw a perfect base, a available thermal core, robust, already tested on the bench, onto which the most audacious technologies could be safely grafted and tested. The commercial setback thus transformed into a formidable flying laboratory. This is how an engine intended for wealthy business travelers became, through an unexpected detour, the testbed for the decarbonized aviation of an entire continent. The first step in this conversion was taken in 2023 with the Dopi program, whose foundational role we have already mentioned. It was on this modified Silvercrest that Safran Electrical and Power integrated its first large 300 kW electric machine, proving that power could be drawn from and injected into a rotating shaft without the entire system becoming unstable. Building on this success, the manufacturer took the next step, the one that gave birth to Phileas. This time, it's no longer a single machine on a single shaft, but two 250 kW machines each, mounted one on the high-pressure shaft, the other on the low-pressure shaft, all complemented by onboard power electronics and a true electrical distribution system. The challenge is not just to make these machines run, but to orchestrate a constant dialogue between them and the thermal engine. This dialogue takes the form of what engineers call advanced power management scenarios, and this is where the entire subtlety of the matter lies. The Istres campaign will explore three main situations. First, power balancing between the two shafts to intelligently distribute the electrical load. Then, power transfer from one shaft to the other, a delicate maneuver that allows energy to circulate where it is most useful at each moment of the flight. Finally, maximum injection when the two machines push together to support the thermal core during the most demanding phases. The tests will progressively increase in intensity, from partial regimes, between 50 and 85% power, where optimal generator operating zones are mapped, to maximum regimes where electricity reinforces thrust. Every thermal parameter, every mechanical stress on the shafts and bearings will be scrutinized, measured, and validated. 300 hours to transform an intuition into industrial certainty. But Phileas does not advance alone. It is part of a much larger design, that of the Rise program led by CFM and considered one of the most ambitious technological undertakings in global aeronautics. This program is based on three pillars inseparable from the decarbonization strategy. The first is precisely the hybrid-electric systems that Phileas embodies. The second is the increasing use of sustainable aviation fuel. And the third, the most visually spectacular, is the revolutionary architecture of the unducted fan, the open fan. This engine, stripped of its traditional casing, allows for a much larger fan with less drag and better efficiency. In 5 years, this program has already accumulated about 500 test campaigns and over 3,000 endurance cycles on its disruptive architectures. And recent news from this project has been particularly dense. On the eve of the Farnborough Airshow in mid-July 2026, CFM announced that it had passed the preliminary design review for the open fan, the compact core, and the exhaust nozzles. In other words, the green light has been given to start manufacturing the parts that will make up the ground demonstrator. Pierre Cotano hailed this as a very important milestone because it concretely opens the door to production. To accommodate this future demonstrator with its four-meter diameter fan, France will open a new 8-meter wide test cell at Villaroche by the end of the year. Ground testing of this giant fan will take place later in the decade, and a unit will even fly aboard an Airbus A380 serving as a flying laboratory. Technological demonstration is therefore being prepared on all fronts simultaneously, both on the ground and in the air. A final event, occurring almost at the same time, completes this favorable picture for French industry. On July 17, 2026, the American Aviation Authority restored Boeing's right to self-certify the airworthiness of its 737 Max and 787 aircraft, a prerogative it had withdrawn after the manufacturer's quality issues. This decision, effective from July 20, is accompanied by an increase in the authorized production rates for the 737 Max. Now, we must remember a crucial detail. Every 737 Max that comes off the assembly line is mandatorily equipped with the Leap engine in its 1B version. Thus, the ramp-up of the American aircraft manufacturer directly benefits Safran mechanically, as it will deliver more engines accordingly. Even when Boeing recovers, it is still France that benefits. In parallel, CFM has certified a durability kit for the high-pressure turbine of this Leap 1B, capable of doubling the time on wing in hot and dusty environments like the Middle East or India, with a production switchover expected in early 2027. This leaves one question, the only one that truly matters. What does all this mean for France, for its standing, for its industrial sovereignty, and for those who will dominate the skies for the next 50 years? This is the question we will answer to conclude this story. The answer begins with a map, that of the industrial footprint that Safran is deploying worldwide today to assert its supremacy. The historical heart still beats in France, of course, at Villaroche, where over 5,000 employees keep the site alive, assembling not only CFM family civil engines but also the M88. This 100% French engine powers the Rafale, a fighter jet that has become one of the finest symbols of French aeronautical excellence. In Juvisy-sur-Orge, in the Parisian suburbs, the forges and foundries shape the most demanding parts, those that must withstand the most extreme conditions. This concentration of know-how, this mastery of the entire chain, from design to final testing, is what distinguishes a true engine manufacturer from a simple assembler. But France is not fearfully retreating to its territory; it is radiating. To absorb the exploding global demand, Safran has decided to establish a second Leap 1A assembly line in Morocco, at the Nouaceur site, as part of a vast industrial complex dedicated to aircraft engines. 350 million euros are being invested there, several hundred qualified jobs will be created, and the factory, operational before the end of 2027, will be able to assemble up to 350 engines per year. Through this move, Morocco is establishing itself as a strategic link in the global Leap supply chain, extending French craftsmanship onto African soil. This is an industrial reach that extends French influence far beyond its borders and shows that Safran's strategy is not conceived on a national scale but on that of an entire continent focused on the aviation of tomorrow. We must then take a step back to grasp the beauty of the whole. Look at the lineage. In the beginning, the CFM 56, that engine saved at the last minute which dominated half a century of air transport. Then, the Leap, that leap forward which reigns today unchallenged in the commercial skies. And already on the horizon, the next generation is being prepared with the open fan and the electric hybridization of Phileas. Three generations of engines, one and the same constant. France always at the controls, always inventing the standard that the whole world will eventually adopt. This is not a coincidence, it is not a stroke of luck; it is the result of a patient vision, a bet on research, an obstinate fidelity to technical excellence. Each generation prepares the next even before the previous one has finished reigning. This is the true signature of a great industrial nation, and it is precisely in this capacity to prepare for what comes next that the entire difference lies with the transatlantic competitor. Because while the American engine manufacturer is concentrating all its energy, all its billions, all its workshops on repairing the mistakes of its present, on laboriously getting hundreds of aircraft out of their forced immobilization, France, on the other hand, has already turned its attention to the next horizon. One promises its exhausted customers a return to normal after several more years of convalescence, like promising a recovery to a sick person. The other is already quietly running on a test bench bathed in Provençal sun the engine that will define propulsion for decades to come. On one side, they are treating wounds; on the other, they are charting the future. This is not just a technological lead; it is a difference in posture, a difference in industrial philosophy. The future is not built by constantly looking over one's shoulder at mistakes one is trying to correct. This sovereignty is not abstract. It means that jobs, research, added value, patents, and influence remain anchored on French and European soil. It means that when the world needs to fly cleaner, more economically, more intelligently, it will have to turn to know-how from France. It means that in the large test bench rooms, in the design offices, in the foundries, it is engineers and workers from our country who are writing, line by line, test by test, the next chapter of global aviation. The two 250 kW machines running today in Istres are not mere laboratory curiosities. They are the concrete promise that the sky of 2030 and beyond will still speak French, as it has for half a century. So the next time you look up at an airliner tracing its path in the blue, remember this. There is a very strong chance that the heart powering it, concentrated with power and intelligence, was born from French genius. And while some elsewhere are struggling to repair what should have worked the first time, our engineers have already started the engine of tomorrow. That is winning. Not triumphing loudly once, but staying ahead, again and again, generation after generation, with the quiet elegance of those who know they are always one step ahead. If you enjoyed this story, if you are as proud as I am to see France leading the way in the skies of the entire world, then let it be known. Give it a thumbs up; it greatly helps the channel grow. Tell us in the comments what this engine of the future inspires in you and if you also believe that the future of aviation is being shaped here, at home. And above all, if you haven't already, subscribe so you don't miss any future stories where France, once again, takes the lead. See you soon for a new story.