The war involving the United States, Israel, and Iran has taken a significant turn for the worse over the past week. Following Israeli strikes on major Iranian oil and gas facilities at South Pars and Asaluyeh on March 18, Tehran sharply escalated its threats, warning that Gulf energy infrastructure in Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and Qatar could be targeted. This sparked widespread anxiety across the region, as it signaled that the war could spread further, devastating the economies and lives of people already living under its shadow.

Iran also demonstrated its long-range capabilities by firing two ballistic missiles toward the joint U.S.-U.K. base at Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean. Although reports indicate the missiles did not hit the base, the incident reinforced the sense that the conflict is widening, becoming increasingly unpredictable and difficult to contain.

President Trump then raised the stakes once again. He warned that unless Iran fully reopened the Strait of Hormuz within 48 hours, the United States would strike Iranian power plants. Iran countered with its own threat, stating that if its power infrastructure were attacked, it would retaliate against Israeli power plants and other regional power facilities linked to U.S. bases.

Then, almost as suddenly, Trump appeared to pull back. On March 23, he claimed that “very good and productive” talks were underway between the U.S. and Iran, with major points of agreement reached, and he postponed the threatened strikes for five days. However, Iran publicly denied that any such talks were taking place. Thus, the region remains in a state of profound uncertainty: one day brings threats of escalation, the next talk of diplomacy, followed almost immediately by denials and renewed doubt.

For those living in the UAE, it is a constant, agonizing journey. Every new threat spikes the tension. Every rumour of talks or a pause brings a small measure of relief, but that relief fades quickly, as no one knows what comes next.

My niece shared her thoughts with me before some of the most recent developments. If anything, the tension is even sharper now than when she wrote them:

“For me, the main feeling lately has been a kind of constant mental exhaustion. You’re always slightly on alert, waiting for the next notification on your phone and wondering if it will be followed by a bang, and if so, how far away it will be.”

In the UAE, a phone message is no longer just a message. Silence is no longer just silence. Every pause is heavy with the understanding that something else could be about to happen.

This pressure doesn't stay with just one person. It seeps into homes, onto the roads, into workplaces, and into family life. The city might still look normal from the outside, but the atmosphere has changed completely.

As my niece put it:

“I think many of us have become a bit irritable and hypersensitive too, simply because our nerves are on edge. It changes the look of everyday life. I get nervous about simple things like driving somewhere. There’s always a question in the back of your mind about something falling from the sky, whether that’s missiles or debris.”

It is easy, from a distance, to view these events as a series of headlines. But for those living in the UAE, the war is felt differently. It is felt in the phone alert that tenses your shoulders, in the instinctive glance at the sky before getting into the car, and in the effort to keep daily life moving while the wider region lurches from one threat to the next.

If the past week has shown anything, it is how suddenly this war can change direction. One day brings threats against power plants and Gulf infrastructure. The next brings talk of productive discussions. Then come denials and further uncertainty.

Undoubtedly, things are much worse for the people of Iran, with a terrifying amount of bombs being dropped on them by the U.S. and Israel. But my family is not in Iran, so I do not feel that direct impact in the same way. There is no such thing as a good war, and I hope this conflict ends soon. Even then, it will be difficult for life to return to how it was, and it is likely the people of the UAE will be keeping an eye on the sky long after the hostilities have ended.

The situation for Irish citizens living and working in the Middle East, particularly in the UAE, has become far more stressful since the United States and Israel began the war against Iran. Although Iran says it is targeting military bases in the Arab Gulf states, it has been reported that hotels and other civilian sites in the UAE have also been hit. As a result, life has changed dramatically in Dubai, where my nephew and niece have lived with their families for years.

Before the war began, Dubai was widely regarded as one of the safest and most prosperous cities in the world. Now, Iran is launching missiles and drones toward the UAE almost daily. The UAE’s air defenses intercept most of them, but they do not manage to stop them all. This offers only a small amount of comfort to families living there, especially those with young children.

I asked my nephew and niece to describe daily life in Dubai at the moment. I am publishing my nephew’s report today, as it illustrates clearly what life is like there right now:

“Life in Dubai has changed dramatically over the past two weeks. There is a sense of uncertainty and unpredictability, and at times it feels dangerous. There has been a clear shift in day-to-day life.

Sometimes when you are outdoors, you hear missiles overhead or see them crossing the sky, with some being intercepted right in front of you. The sound of those explosions is unlike anything I have ever heard before. The shockwave travels through your entire body, and it is impossible to ignore.

We receive official government alert messages almost every day, instructing us to take shelter when waves of missiles are coming our way. Recently, other messages also arrive an hour or two later confirming that the situation is under control again. At night especially, people are much more alert, checking their phones, watching for alerts, and listening for unusual sounds. This creates a tension that is now part of everyday life. I’ve noticed one thing: every time I go out, I look up at the sky just to be sure. That has become an instinctive habit now—something that would have been quite strange a short time ago.

For families, especially those with young children, this is one of the most difficult aspects. We have two small children, and the sound of those explosions is very frightening for them. They are certainly afraid and don't understand what is happening, so we try to downplay the situation and reassure them, telling them it is a normal occurrence—like police cars or ambulances passing by.

Travel has also been heavily affected. Due to the closure of airspace, flights were not operating for certain periods. On some days, the airspace was reopened for a few hours to allow people who were on holiday here to return home to places like Ireland and England, but many flights were still cancelled. Once, when flights resumed for a short while, civilian aircraft appeared to be flying side-by-side with military jets. I had never seen anything like it before, and it was a surreal experience.

In everyday life, there is much less traffic on the roads, though most people are still trying to carry on with their routines and daily duties. It must be said that the response systems are working very effectively. Despite this, there are still cases where drones or debris have caused damage to buildings.

Overall, people are getting used to the situation as best they can, but the atmosphere is very different now. There is an understanding that things could change suddenly. Daily life continues, but everyone is more alert and more cautious than usual.”

Next week, I will continue this series with a report from my niece in Dubai.

Saturday, February 28, I felt the Iranian war for the first time in a text message from my sister.

“There are explosions in Dubai,” she wrote. “C. is terrified,” she added, referring to her daughter.

Another message arrived shortly after. “A missile hit The Palm Hotel and Resort in Dubai. It went up in flames.”

Then she sent me a screenshot of an alert her son and daughter had received on their phones: “Due to the current situation and the threat of missiles, take shelter immediately in the nearest secure building, and stay away from windows, doors, and open areas. Await further instructions.”

I called my sister immediately. She was anxious about her son, her daughter, and her three grandchildren in Dubai. I tried to reassure her. We agreed that the threat was "low."

But “low threat” changes its meaning when it concerns your own family. When danger involves strangers, it seems like a measured thing. When it involves the people you love, it no longer feels low. it is a threat, and it feels very close.

By Sunday, March 1, the reports out of Dubai were clearer. Reuters reported damage in Dubai, including at the international airport, Palm Jumeirah, and the Burj Al Arab, after the first wave of Iranian retaliation spread across the Gulf. That same day, another message came from my sister.

“They hit the airport and a missile was intercepted near where C. lives. C.’s nerves are shattered.”

Some of the first messages came in the chaos that accompanies a live attack. That is how it is in those moments. It is the "fog of war." Rumors, fear, and half-facts reach us in a single blur. But the overarching truth was clear enough. Iran was demonstrating that it could strike across the Gulf, terrorize the Arab Gulf states, and cause major disruption to life and the economy. It wasn't just a military message; it had a strong psychological element too. No one in the region was completely safe.

Since the war began on February 28, the United Arab Emirates has attempted to stay out of a wider regional conflict, even as they are forced to defend themselves against repeated attacks. That prudence is important, as it helps keep matters under control rather than expanding them across the region. Despite this, however, much of the danger is beyond their control. On March 9, the UAE envoy to the United Nations in Geneva called for de-escalation and a return to negotiations, while simultaneously stating that the UAE was ready to protect its critical infrastructure.

It is also clear that this war is far from over. Ali Khamenei was killed in a US-Israeli airstrike on Iran on February 28. On Sunday, March 8, Iranian state media reported that his son, Mojtaba Khamenei, had been chosen as the new Supreme Leader. Reuters reported that this appointment indicates continuity and confrontation rather than compromise.

No one can say for sure how this war will proceed, nor what it will mean for families in the UAE in the coming weeks. We hope, of course, that the attacks on the Gulf states will stop soon.

On Monday, March 9, the UAE stated that its air defense network has been under continuous attack since hostilities began on February 28. According to official figures, 253 ballistic missiles from Iran were detected. 233 of them were destroyed, 18 fell into the sea, and 2 landed on the ground. The UAE also said that 1,440 drones were detected, 1,359 of which were intercepted and 81 of which landed within the country. Eight cruise missiles were also detected and destroyed. Despite this, 4 people were killed and 117 others were slightly injured. Those killed were citizens of Pakistan, Nepal, and Bangladesh. Among the injured were residents from more than twenty countries. To our knowledge, no Irish people have been injured so far. The UAE Ministry of Defence said its forces were fully prepared to deal with any further threat.

The UAE's air defense relies heavily on American-made THAAD and Patriot systems, supported by other systems to deal with lower-flying missiles and drones. The UAE says they still have sufficient interceptors.

I recently received a detailed account from my nephew, who has lived in Dubai for several years, about life as it is now with the UAE under attack from Iran. It is clear from his words that ordinary life itself has changed. People are watching their phones, listening for alerts, and even looking up into the sky as a new habit. Due to space constraints, I cannot publish his full account here, but I will return to it in a separate article.

For people far away, war is often a headline, or a map, or a line of official numbers. But for families whose own people are under threat from missiles and drones, it is something else. It becomes personal. It becomes immediate. It becomes the thing you think about when the phone lights up in the middle of the night.