Scores of airlines have stumbled into a war zone in the Middle East; ‘we were lucky’
6 min
“Are those fireworks or something?” asked a passenger on Emirates flight EK146 from Amsterdam to Dubai last month, in a video posted to social media. In fact, what she was watching through her cabin window was a barrage of Iranian missiles headed to Israel.
Her flight was one of scores that shared the skies with Iranian missiles on Oct. 1, an example of how the escalating conflict in the Middle East is endangering commercial aircraft in some of the world’s busiest skies.
The number of missiles crisscrossing the region has surged since the start of Israel’s war with Hamas: An average of 162 missiles have been fired each month so far this year, up from 10 a month in 2023, according to aviation security firm Osprey Flight Solutions. This has led to warnings from airlines, crews, security experts and families of air crash victims that an airliner could inadvertently be shot out of the sky.
Missiles have been spotted in-flight by pilots and passengers, struck near airports, and been fired by militaries and militias without warning to airlines. Governments and aviation regulators have meanwhile failed or been slow to close or restrict airspace.
There is precedent for the concern. Two commercial aircraft have been shot down in recent conflicts. Malaysia Airlines flight MH17 was downed over eastern Ukraine by Russian-backed militants in 2014, and Ukrainian Airlines flight PS752 was mistaken for an incoming missile by Iranian forces shortly after takeoff from Tehran in 2020.
For passengers flying on Oct. 1, the threat felt real. Madalina Birca, 24, was flying with Emirates from Nice, France, to Dubai when the captain announced, with a slight tremble in her voice, that “due to the war situation” the flight was being diverted.
Passengers quickly switched their screens to news channels to find that Iran had started its attack on Israel. Birca followed on the live flight map as the aircraft made an abrupt turn just before crossing into Iranian airspace. She used the in-flight Wi-Fi to try to calculate the missiles’ trajectories and how close her flight had come to catastrophe.
“We were very lucky that we didn’t cross already into the airspace,” Birca said.
Birca’s was one of more than 80 flights that were diverted on Oct. 1 because of the attack. Many other flights continued uninterrupted over Iraq, Jordan, Syria and northern Saudi Arabia, with dozens passing close to launch sites in the north and south of Iran.
Radio messages from air-traffic control towers in Iraq, Kuwait and Bahrain captured some of the tumult in the skies, with pilots declaring emergencies and diversions, and in some cases exclaiming that they could see the projectiles themselves.
“Missiles over Baghdad, over Najaf, over everywhere,” one pilot radioed to Baghdad air traffic controllers, according to a feed from live radio specialist, Broadcastify.
“We noticed some missiles,” a Kuwait Airways pilot said.
“Lights, rockets, I don’t know, now they’re not visible anymore,” someone radioed to pilots on Air France flight 662 to Dubai. Air France has opened a probe into why the flight was caught in the affected airspace.
While ballistic missiles reach an apex far above the altitude of a commercial jet, they pose a major risk during their ascent and descent. About 10% of Iran’s ballistics are also estimated to fail midflight, which, along with their ejected boosters, leads to falling debris. Cruise missiles typically fly at lower altitudes, endangering aircraft as they take off and land. At times, the biggest risk is posed by air-defence systems misidentifying a commercial aircraft as incoming fire.
The tally of projectiles, tracked by Osprey, accounts only for ballistic and cruise missiles. Its figures don’t include unguided rockets, mortars, artillery fire and drone attacks, each of which can also endanger flights.
The risk is ongoing. Iran has briefed regional officials that it’s preparing a response to Israel’s latest retaliatory strike that will utilise more powerful warheads. Osprey has warned airline customers that the next attack could be coordinated with Iranian-backed militias in Iraq, Syria, Yemen and Lebanon, widening the areas of airspace at risk.
Meanwhile, strikes exchanged between Israel and Hezbollah have regularly targeted or struck areas near airports, including a missile that landed in a parking lot at Tel Aviv Airport this month and an Israeli airstrike that caused an explosion near Beirut Airport’s runways a day later.
Israel’s strike against Iranian sites on Oct. 26 was also launched without official notice to airlines, though the early morning timing—around 2:15 am in Iran—meant fewer aircraft were operating. The Israeli Air Force typically consults air-traffic controllers before any strike to try to minimise risk, according to an official.
“It’s a huge concern to civil aviation. We know what happened with the Ukrainian airliner that was shot down in Iran mistakenly,” said Hassan Shahidi , president of the Flight Safety Foundation, a global, nonprofit advocacy group, calling the incident “absolutely preventable.”
Despite the surge in military activity, Middle Eastern airspace has largely remained open over the past year. The region’s already busy skies have become more important after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine locked out carriers from swaths of airspace over both countries.
Aviation safety experts have criticised the inconsistent way in which the skies have been managed by governments, including issuing late or no airspace closures.
“National security and foreign policy trump aviation security, and it happens over and over again in conflict zones,” Osprey’s Chief Intelligence Officer Matt Borie said in an interview.
The U.S. Federal Aviation Administration and others have long imposed bans and restrictions on flights over North Korea because of the country’s tendency to conduct a handful of unannounced ballistic missile tests each year. Last year North Korea launched 37 missiles; this year so far, 52.
Days after Iran’s Oct. 1 launch, the FAA extended its ban on U.S. carriers crossing into Iranian airspace by three years until October 2027, a prohibition it first put in place after the downing of Ukrainian Airlines flight PS752 in 2020. A separate restriction that prevents flights over Syria is also in effect until 2028.
U.S. carriers aren’t restricted from flying over Iraq as long as the aircraft is traveling at a minimum altitude of 32,000 feet, according to the FAA’s latest advisory. There are no explicit warnings against operations over Jordan, Lebanon or Israel, though the agency maintains a 2021 notice that airlines “exercise caution” in those areas because of the proximity to the military situation in Syria.
A push at the United Nations to standardise rules for commercial flights over conflict zones that began after the downing of MH17 in 2014 has largely stalled, security experts say.
The U.N.’s International Civil Aviation Organization disputed that characterisation, citing an updated manual due this year, a meeting of its “Safer Skies” committee next year and the possible hosting of a third workshop on the subject. The measures demonstrate “the international community’s ongoing dedication to preventing future tragedies in conflict zones,” a spokesman said.
Outside of official bans, airlines typically make their own decisions about whether to fly over a conflict zone on any given day. They rely on a patchwork of advisories from regulators, intelligence from government agencies and advice from private security companies. Rerouting a flight can be a major operational challenge that adds additional fuel costs, can require additional staffing, and which disrupts preassigned takeoff and landing slots.
Even before Oct. 1, most Western carriers, including U.S. airlines, had withdrawn flights to Israel, Iran and Jordan. Many have also opted to reroute flights crossing that corridor to now fly via Egypt and Saudi Arabia.
Carriers are also taking other measures. Emirates is carrying additional fuel in case a flight is required to make an emergency diversion, while European discounter Wizz Air says it will only fly in certain airspace during daytime hours when the risk of an attack is lower. Israel’s flag carrier El Al, meanwhile, has long equipped its aircraft with antimissile defence systems.
Airlines say that safety is their top priority and that any flight path is carefully considered before being allowed to depart. But they’ve also criticized governments, including after Iran’s Oct. 1 attack, for not taking adequate care to protect commercial aviation.
“It’s quite volatile,” Emirates Chief Commercial Officer Adnan Kazim said in a recent interview, adding that his airline has regularly been holding multiple security meetings a day, in addition to its daily security briefing. “Some of these kinds of situations, unfortunately they don’t come with any alert, or any pre-information and you need to manage the situation as you go.”
Israel has rerouted standard flight paths in and out of the Tel Aviv airport away from danger zones since the start of the conflict, according to Libby Bahat, head of aerial infrastructure at the Civil Aviation Authority of Israel. When it learns of potential incoming attacks, it reduces the number of flights in the airspace to make it easier for air-traffic controllers to quickly scatter aircraft to safety, Bahat said.
A spokeswoman for the Israeli Defense Force declined to comment. Aviation regulators in Iran, Iraq, Jordan and Lebanon didn’t respond to requests for comment.
Pilots have expressed concerns. The European Cockpit Association has complained that some airlines are forcing pilots to fly routes even if they disagree with their airline’s safety assessment. The union also wants airlines to update life insurance policies, which typically don’t pay out in the case of a downing over a conflict zone.
“At any moment another disaster could happen that can take the life of innocent people again,” said Kourosh Doustshenas, whose partner died along with 175 others when Iran inadvertently shot down Ukrainian Airlines flight PS752. “We have gone through this, and this can happen any time.”
The U.S. had cautioned that morning of an increased risk of misidentification in Iranian airspace, but with most of its security team off work for Orthodox Christmas, Ukrainian Airlines failed to heed the warning.
Doustshenas has called for governments to be held legally accountable for failing to protect civilian airliners from becoming collateral damage. He also wants passengers to be informed if their flight is routed to fly over a conflict zone.
“Regular people going to the airport to catch their flight have no idea,” Doustshenas said.
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AI doesn’t rebel—people design, deploy and profit from it. The real danger lies in allowing tech companies to escape accountability while shaping regulations that protect their dominance.
4 min
A wave of corporate warnings and technical disclosures has flooded the media, with headlines worrying over “swarms” of rogue artificial-intelligence agents launching “unprecedented” cyberattacks, outsmarting their makers, and inching toward a terrifying autonomy. The most revealing part of this narrative isn’t what the software did. It’s who is telling the story—and why. When corporate leaders publicly insist that the systems they financed, engineered and deployed are suddenly beyond their power to contain, skepticism isn’t only healthy; it is essential.
For years, Silicon Valley has drawn scrutiny from civil society and global regulators over tangible harms such as youth mental health deterioration and systematic privacy violations. Today, industry figures seem to be trying to change that public image. Loudly blowing the whistle on their own systems—just as two of the leading companies were preparing for massive initial public offerings—lets AI executives position themselves as a new generation of leaders who have come to terms with their societal responsibilities. They seem to want us to believe that they no longer want to “move fast and break things” but will instead stand as vigilant guardians between humanity and a technological apocalypse.
There is one glaring problem: Software doesn’t rebel. A mathematical model possesses neither intent, malice nor the will to defy its creators, let alone extinguish our species. AI is a human artifact, engineered for profit.
When an agentic model in an evaluation sandbox connects to an unauthorized server or executes an exploit, it hasn’t staged a coup. It has tried to meet the human-defined objectives set out before it through a path its designers failed to constrain. It’s the digital equivalent of the King Midas myth, in which the king’s ill-defined wish turns even his food and drink into gold.
That powerful experimental models were able to discover novel vulnerabilities and breach external systems isn’t a sign of a dangerous superintelligence but of human error or negligence. There is no sentient actor lurking in the weights to be reasoned with, feared or pacified. There are only human software engineers, product managers and corporate boards deciding which guardrails are worth the latency cost and which permissions can be skipped in the race to market.
Policymakers and voters need to resist AI exceptionalism. In any other discipline—from civil engineering to pharmaceuticals—courts and regulators treat a system failure as evidence of bad product design and inadequate safety testing. If an aircraft crashes, we focus on finding the engineering defect, correcting it, and enforcing established liability standards for the damage created.
By leaning on an anthropomorphic narrative, Silicon Valley attempts to repackage its specific human choices that led to experimental, powerful models behaving unexpectedly during tests as an existential peril. Elevating the issue to a cosmic scale leaves the public paralyzed and takes ordinary product accountability off the table.
In the cutthroat race for venture capital and market dominance, building guardrails slows down deployment. Grandstanding about uncontrollable power costs nothing and generates billions of dollars in free publicity, justifying stock prices, all while cultivating an aura of technological capability not only to build the frontier but also ultimately to rein it in.
Governments need to recognize regulatory capture when it stares them in the face. Tech leaders’ strategy looks transparent: Alarm Washington and Brussels into creating a regime in which only trillion-dollar incumbents with fully staffed compliance and safety departments can legally operate. By sitting at the policymakers’ tables before anyone else, these companies can help draft rules digging an impassable moat protecting them from open-source developers and upstart competitors, domestic or international. The real danger is in further concentrating the tech industry into the hands of only a few companies with deep pockets.
Beijing and Washington have brushed off those tech leaders’ calls, albeit for very different reasons. Chinese state media dismissed them as part of the “Cold War playbook” and intended to preserve U.S. dominance. Xi Jinping argued for exactly the opposite at the Brics Summit on Sept. 12, calling on Brics countries to “strengthen cooperation in the field of AI, encourage open source, openness, collaboration and sharing, and break new grounds and scale new heights.” President Trump, steeped in a doctrine of unfettered capitalism and technological supremacy, called fears that AI could destroy humanity a “hoax.” Vice President JD Vance warned that AI companies “begging the government to regulate them” looked like a “Trojan Horse.”
Striving to pursue its “European way” on AI and assert regulatory leadership, Europe, by contrast, welcomed the call. European Union President Ursula von der Leyen made this clear at the State of the EU speech last Wednesday and announced that the EU will invite “the main frontier labs for a discussion on how we can support ongoing industry efforts to pace the frontier.”
Europe has been here before. In an effort to lead global regulation and react to fears borne from ChatGPT, Europe rushed its landmark AI Act into law in 2024. Already the world’s most restrictive rulebook, the framework quickly proved too broad and complex to enforce. Stalled by implementation delays and concerns about European competitiveness, the EU postponed the law’s full rollout, leaving regulations uncertain.
AI should be regulated—risks exist and should be taken seriously. But governments need to act based on available evidence and verified facts, not corporate PR panic, the views of industry insiders, or the desire for quick political wins. The greatest danger facing society isn’t that software will awaken and overthrow its human masters. It is that we will allow the creators of the software to abdicate human responsibility for the systems they choose to build and help them pull up the ladder to market access behind them.
