The flydubai attack: The politicization of empathy

A family should not have to pass a political test before its fear is taken seriously.

On September 30, flydubai Flight FZ1073 diverted to Saudi Arabia after a cockpit attack on its way from Dubai to Tel Aviv. Israeli officials alleged that the co-pilot stabbed the captain and attempted to crash the aircraft. Passengers and crew intervened, and the plane landed safely. The circumstances and motive remain under investigation.

Yaniv Hayun was travelling with his wife and two daughters. Reuters reported that he and other Israeli passengers helped restrain the attacker. Tali Manes raised the alarm; Shota Musaev treated the wounded captain. Another passenger, Asaf Rajuan, described acting to protect his family and everyone aboard. A second aircrew helped land the aircraft.

I flew flydubai just last month. I remember a cabin of people with different destinations and different lives waiting at the other end. Had something gone wrong, none of us would have wanted our fear judged by where we came from.

The passengers aboard FZ1073 were trying to survive and get home. Their actions helped others do the same.

Yet once a tragedy enters political debate, the people who lived through it can disappear. It is right to examine how leaders use an event. It is something else to treat the passengers’ ordeal as political theater.

Their fear was real, whatever anyone later made of it.

In an exclusive statement to Between the Headlines, Ambassador Dana Kursh praised Indian captain Smit Machchhar and the Israeli passengers for preventing a tragedy.

“We have serious concerns that this may have been a terrorist attack, but the investigation is ongoing, and we do not yet know who may have been behind it,” she said.

Kursh raises the possibility of terrorism while stressing that the investigation has yet to establish a motive or who, if anyone, was behind the attack. Reporting must preserve that distinction. It does not prevent us from recognizing what the passengers and crew did.

Empathy is not an endorsement. Scrutiny is not indifference.

For Filipinos, this principle has consequences beyond an argument online. Our people’s lives do not fit neatly into the positions we take from home.

In November 2023, the Department of Foreign Affairs reported that 40 Filipinos and one Palestinian spouse had crossed from Gaza into Egypt. Their passage involved coordination with Qatar, Egypt and Israel.

Earlier this year, Filipino caregiver Mary Anne Velazquez de Vera was killed in Israel while helping her patient reach a bomb shelter, according to the Philippine government.

Philippine diplomats have had to help families leave Gaza and support the family of a worker killed in Israel. Neither duty could wait for a political consensus.

Our national responsibility includes Filipinos working in Israeli households and Filipinos raising families with Palestinians. Their safety cannot depend on which relationship suits a preferred narrative.

Negotiating with a government to secure an evacuation does not approve all its actions.

Protecting a civilian does not excuse anyone responsible for civilian deaths.

The same precision belongs in our judgment of Flight FZ1073. Israeli government actions remain open to criticism. Palestinian rights and suffering demand sustained attention. Neither fact changes what the passengers did aboard that aircraft. Their courage, in turn, settles no question about government policy.

Governments should answer for their decisions. Individuals should answer for their conduct.

Nationality alone establishes neither guilt nor innocence.

Would we recognize the passengers’ actions as readily if their nationality changed? Would we question an official account less carefully if it came from a government we supported?

We know this temptation in Philippine politics: an opponent’s explanation receives relentless examination, while an ally’s assurance gets the benefit of the doubt. Then we call our judgment independent.

For a country whose families spend years apart while someone works overseas, the wish to land safely and return home is familiar. But familiarity cannot be the admission price for compassion.

We can recognize the passengers’ ordeal, follow the investigation carefully and demand accountability for civilian suffering elsewhere. None requires us to surrender the others.

If acknowledging another family’s suffering feels like a concession to your political opponents, ask yourself what your politics is protecting.