The Arabian Gulf was wide awake on Monday night as shaky footage of Iranian missiles over Qatari skies filled our screens. While it was one of the politest acts of aggression ever witnessed, the region’s centres of commerce, from Doha to Dubai, are rightly concerned. Iran had launched a carefully telegraphed barrage of missiles at the US military’s Al Udeid Air Base in Qatar – home to some 10,000 American personnel – in retaliation for Washington’s strike on three of its nuclear sites over the weekend. Doha had been given advance notice and residents knew that something was coming when the country’s airspace was closed and the US and UK embassies told all citizens to remain indoors. Then, a spectacle unfolded in the sky: striking and surreal but ultimately bloodless.

The mood in Dubai is a little more introspective today – not tense or fearful so much as eerie. There’s the usual rush into the financial district; bookings for brunches and beach clubs haven’t been cancelled; the school run continues. But people are walking a little more slowly and perhaps even speaking a tad more quietly. Everyone was glued to their phones last night because, this time, it felt different. It was right above us. 

In Doha, I’m told that the mood is less serene. Flights are resuming but the city remains on high alert – and it must. The Qatari government is balancing too many delicate relationships – with the US, Hamas and Iran – and now dealing with the prospect of incoming missiles. Qatar has played the middleman better than most countries over the years but the best middlemen know when things are getting too hot. 

If Iran’s attempt to hit a US base in Qatar looked like the most civilised missile attack in modern memory, that’s because it was. Abbas Araghchi, Iran’s foreign minister, made it clear that the goal of the attack was deterrence, not death. Donald Trump even thanked Iran for the warning, calling the missiles “weak”, and suggested that both parties had essentially done what they needed to do. Israel and the US got to flex their might as Operation Midnight Hammer severely damaged Iran’s nuclear programme. Iran got to save face with a dramatic but largely theatrical response. And Trump got to talk about peace. But what about the region? What about those of us watching from Dubai and Doha, cities that thrive on calm and continuity?

For many in the Gulf, especially the vast expat community that lives between the Middle East and Europe, the real anxiety wasn’t about politics or power plays – it was about planes. British Airways briefly grounded its routes, Flydubai held back for a while and parents started quietly wondering whether summer holidays to the Med would still happen. In truth, most people in Qatari and Emirati cities aren’t concerned about the big diplomatic picture. They’re thinking practically: will tensions affect oil prices? Will airspace closures become the new normal? For all the choreography, there’s still a deep unease. Iran is weakened but also more desperate.

Whether a lasting ceasefire will soon materialise depends on who you ask. Neither Israel nor Iran appeared fully committed to Trump’s script and tit-for-tat missile attacks quickly resumed on Tuesday morning. Can Tehran really regard Trump as a trusted broker of peace when, only days ago, he floated the idea of regime change in Iran? And can Israel be convinced to pull back on its hard-won military advantage when every instinct will push its leaders to double down and deny Tehran any chance of rebuilding? There are motivations on both sides to continue a conflict in which each sees the other as an existential threat. So, yes, the skies might have cleared and for now the missiles have stopped. But beneath the calm, the fundamentals remain unchanged. Here in the Gulf, we know better than to confuse a pause with peace. And in cities such as Dubai and Doha – outwardly calm, inwardly braced – we’ll keep watching the skies just in case.

Another aviation accident, another three-digit coded Boeing airplane. After years of bad press dogged Boeing’s 737 line, the 787 Dreamliner now faces its first major reputational hit following the fatal crash of Air India Flight 171 on Thursday. While the exact cause of the incident won’t be known for many months, the disaster immediately resuscitated whistleblower complaints about production flaws in the wide-body aircraft – and proved that new CEO Kelly Ortberg’s turnaround efforts at the aerospace behemoth still have a long way to go.

The maiden voyage for Boeing’s 787 Dreamliner took place in 2009 at Paine Field, its flagship manufacturing facility in Everett, Washington. The Dreamliner doesn’t cut as dramatic a profile as the double-decker Airbus A380 and holds fewer passengers than the Boeing 777. But as the name suggests, it provides a smoother ride than its peers for long-haul flights with more comfortable cabin pressure, higher humidity, better air filtration, dimmable windows and anti-turbulence technology.

Like many global carriers, Air India has been stocking up on Dreamliners to replace an ageing fleet of 747s. While the Queen of the Skies is a beloved aircraft, the more fuel efficient Dreamliner is an ideal workhorse for flights between secondary airports, such as Thursday’s route from Ahmedabad to London Gatwick. Just last month, Ortberg joined president Donald Trump and Qatari emir Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani for the signing of a $96bn (€83bn) purchase agreement that includes 130 Dreamliners – the largest order for a single model of jet in Boeing’s history.

The blockbuster deal in Doha papered over lingering concerns about the Dreamliner, concerns that the Air India accident has now propelled to the forefront. The same year as the 787’s inaugural flight, Boeing broke ground on a final assembly line in Charleston, South Carolina, that could handle wide-body aircraft – only the third such facility in the world after Everett, Washington, and Toulouse, France. The move was widely interpreted as a jab at Boeing’s unionised workforce in Washington state, as South Carolina state law prohibits compulsory union membership. The powerful machinists and engineering unions crowed that the lower-cost non-union labour in South Carolina would build inferior airplanes.

Indeed, five years ago, Boeing discovered small gaps in the joins that could weaken the fuselage and production halted for two years to correct the issue. In 2024, whistleblowers testified before a Senate committee that Boeing had taken shortcuts and was “putting out defective airplanes,” an allegation the company denied by pointing to the thorough revamping of how it makes the Dreamliner’s carbon-composite airframe. The Federal Aviation Administration, which in the past has been accused of being asleep at the switch and effectively letting Boeing certify its own aircraft, oversaw the process. Media were also invited into the Charleston plant to see the improvements first-hand.

The Dreamliner that crashed on Thursday, however, was built in Everett by union machinists and delivered in 2014 (before Charleston fully took over wide-body production). Any potential problems with the flagship wide-body jets cannot be reduced to a simple question of union or non-union labour. There are perhaps deeper structural issues facing the inordinately complex engineering of a modern aircraft such as the Dreamliner; it’s also possible that a fluke, such as a flock of birds, caused the crash, as with Jeju Air Flight 2216 in December. Boeing will, of course, dispatch a crack team to assist US and Indian authorities with the crash investigation. In the immediate aftermath, Ortberg has the toughest assignment for any aviation CEO – damage control in the wake of a fatal disaster that has shaken the confidence of the public. Whether he can pass this test with flying colours will prove the true mark of the man who has taken on one of the most daunting leadership roles in global business.

Scruggs is Monocle’s Seattle correspondent.