The Silence After FZ1073: Saudi Arabia Should Be Careful of the Company It Keeps

Flydubai Flight FZ1073 should have produced one of the easiest statements any government is ever required to make. An aircraft carrying more than 170 people from Dubai to Tel Aviv was thrown into a terrifying emergency after the co-pilot allegedly attacked the captain in the cockpit. According to Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, the aircraft plunged almost 14,000 feet in less than thirty seconds before passengers and crew intervened. It eventually landed safely at Tabuk in Saudi Arabia. The UAE is now investigating whether the attack was connected to terrorism, whether it was planned in advance and whether there was external direction.

Whatever the investigation ultimately establishes, one proposition should hardly be controversial. Trying to seize or destroy a civilian aircraft and endangering everyone aboard it deserves condemnation.

Yet from the capitals that only weeks ago proclaimed a new era of Islamic solidarity and collective security, there has been a remarkable silence.

In August, Saudi Arabia, Türkiye and Pakistan signed the Makkah Joint Defence Agreement. Its language was ambitious. The three countries spoke of the “bonds of brotherhood and Islamic solidarity”, of collective security and of their responsibility for peace, security and stability in the region. An armed attack against one, they declared, would be considered an attack against all.

Less than two months later, a civilian aircraft was violently attacked and ended its ordeal on Saudi soil.

Where, then, was the solidarity? There was no need for Recep Tayyip Erdoğan to accuse Iran. There was no need for Shehbaz Sharif to endorse Israel’s version of events. There was no need even to pronounce the word “terrorism” before investigators had established a motive.

A simple statement would have sufficed.

Türkiye condemns violence against civilian aviation and stands with Saudi Arabia and the UAE as they investigate the incident.

Pakistan condemns the attack on the crew of FZ1073 and expresses solidarity with the passengers and governments concerned.

These are not difficult sentences. Governments issue versions of them routinely.The absence is particularly conspicuous because the Makkah pact is supposed to be more than another Middle Eastern communiqué. On 31 August, the foreign and defence ministers and military chiefs of Saudi Arabia, Türkiye and Pakistan met in Istanbul and again promised to work together for regional peace and stability. Only last week, Türkiye and Pakistan joined Saudi Arabia and Egypt in affirming Riyadh’s right to defend itself against Houthi attacks and emphasising the security of regional navigation.

Apparently collective security is easy to articulate when the aggressor is politically convenient.

FZ1073 presents a much more uncomfortable test. The aircraft belonged to an Emirati airline. Its destination was Israel. Many of its passengers were Israeli. The captain who fought to save his aircraft was Indian. The alleged attacker was Omani. And the aircraft ultimately sought refuge in Saudi Arabia.

It is difficult to imagine a single incident that more completely intersects the complicated political relationships of today’s Middle East.

It also explains why everyone is being careful. Saudi Arabia has not normalised relations with Israel. Türkiye’s relationship with Israel is deeply confrontational. Pakistan does not recognise Israel. Oman traditionally guards its political neutrality. None wants to appear to be adopting Netanyahu’s narrative before the investigation is complete.

But condemning the attempted destruction of a civilian aircraft is not recognising Israel, supporting Netanyahu or abandoning Palestine.

It is condemning terrorism. That distinction becomes still more important when one looks east towards Tehran.

There is presently no public evidence establishing Iranian responsibility for FZ1073, and it would be irresponsible to claim otherwise. Netanyahu has said investigators will determine whether the attacker had accomplices and whether Iran was involved. The UAE, more cautiously, says it is examining possible terrorist activity, prior planning and direction.

Iranian officials, meanwhile, have not publicly claimed responsibility for the incident. But the rhetoric surrounding it deserves attention.

Immediately before the attack, following Netanyahu’s visit to the UAE, Iran’s Foreign Ministry warned Abu Dhabi of “highly dangerous consequences”, describing Netanyahu in extraordinarily inflammatory terms and portraying his presence in the Emirates as a threat to regional security.

Iranian media then began pushing a different narrative after FZ1073. Some outlets sympathetic to Tehran portrayed the incident as a possible Israeli false flag rather than simply waiting for investigators to establish what happened. Reporting on Iranian and Arab coverage found Iranian narratives rapidly folding the incident into the confrontation between Israel and the Gulf states.

And Tehran’s pressure on the Gulf has not subsided. Ali Akbar Velayati, senior adviser to Supreme Leader , has now warned the UAE that “imported security has an expiration date”, adding the unmistakable message that “a neighbor remains, and a guest leaves.”

None of this proves that Iran had anything to do with FZ1073. It does, however, demonstrate the environment in which the attack occurred.

Saudi Arabia therefore faces a larger question than the identity or motivation of one co-pilot.

The Kingdom has spent the past several years trying to construct a new regional order in which it is simultaneously an Arab leader, an Islamic power, an economic hub, a diplomatic mediator and an increasingly autonomous strategic actor. The Makkah agreement with Türkiye and Pakistan fits perfectly within that ambition. Riyadh no longer wants its security to depend entirely upon Washington.

That is understandable. But strategic autonomy is only valuable when one’s partners share the same definition of security.

Saudi Arabia should therefore look carefully at the company it keeps. Pakistan has just promised to defend the Kingdom “by whatever means” against Houthi attacks. Türkiye has committed itself formally to treating an armed attack on Saudi Arabia as an attack upon itself. Those are extraordinary commitments.

Yet when a civilian aircraft was violently attacked, plunged from the sky and landed in Saudi Arabia carrying terrified passengers and an injured captain, neither ally appears to have found it necessary publicly to condemn what happened.

An alliance is not tested when its members agree about the enemy. It is tested when principle becomes inconvenient.

The Kingdom should also remember something more fundamental. Saudi Arabia is not simply another state seeking security guarantees. It is custodian of Islam’s two holiest mosques and increasingly presents itself as the political centre of a modernising Muslim world. An alliance bearing the name of Makkah therefore carries a moral significance beyond ordinary defence cooperation.

If the Makkah pact is to represent a serious new security architecture, its members cannot allow their definition of terrorism to change according to the nationality of the victims, the destination of an aircraft or the diplomatic sensitivities of the moment.

The passengers of FZ1073 were fortunate. The captain fought back. Passengers and crew intervened. Other pilots helped bring the aircraft down safely. Saudi Arabia opened Tabuk to the stricken plane and treated the injured.

Next time, there may be no heroic captain, no passengers able to break into a cockpit and no Saudi runway waiting below.

Riyadh should demand clarity from the partners with whom it is building its new security architecture. Not agreement on Israel. Not agreement on Iran. Not premature attribution of FZ1073.

Just agreement on one elementary principle.

A civilian aircraft cannot become a legitimate battlefield. If even that cannot be said together, Saudi Arabia should ask itself what exactly the Makkah alliance is designed to defend.