The airport, the strait and the tunnel

The Houthi attack on King Khalid International Airport in Riyadh was more than a terrorist assault on a civilian facility. It exposed a stark contrast between two visions

The airport, the strait and the tunnel

The Houthi attack on King Khalid International Airport in Riyadh was more than a terrorist assault on a civilian facility. It exposed a stark contrast between two visions: one that invests in airports, ports, maritime straits and technology to transcend borders and connect a country to the wider world; another that devotes its resources to tunnels, missiles, drones and fortifications to penetrate borders while isolating itself from the world beyond them.

The nationalities of the victims capture this contrast with painful clarity. Saudis, Syrians, Jordanians, Egyptians, Americans, Indians, and Bangladeshis, including pilgrims performing Umrah. People from different countries brought together in an airport terminal, only to become victims of the same attack. They were parties to neither the conflict in Yemen nor Iran’s war. They were travellers making their way to work, to their families and to their homelands. An airport brought them together; a missile launched from a tunnel struck them.

An airport is far more than runways and terminals. It forms part of a global network sustained by laws, agreements, institutions and mutual trust. An aircraft departing Riyadh for destinations around the world crosses the airspace of several countries, carries passengers of different nationalities and connects markets, societies and families. It embodies a world of intertwined interests, where borders serve as gateways to human connection rather than lines of confrontation.

A military tunnel, when converted into a base for an armed group operating beyond state authority, belongs to an entirely different order. It forms part of a network of fortifications, storage facilities, communications systems, concealed weapons and launch platforms. These are no primitive caves, nor are the groups that construct them strangers to technology. Modern tunnels require engineers, specialists, funding, equipment and sophisticated technical expertise. The problem lies in how that knowledge is employed, channelled through proxies into warfare at the expense of development.

The airport symbolises life and operates in the light. The tunnel serves death and dwells in darkness. Iran, its proxies and its allies have developed various forms of these underground networks. In Lebanon, Hezbollah built extensive systems of fortifications and military installations. Kataib Hezbollah and other Iraqi militias followed similar approaches. In Gaza, Hamas constructed a vast subterranean network for movement, storage, command and combat. In Syria, the Syrian Democratic Forces excavated tunnels and fortifications in territories under their control, although that case belongs to a different context, associated with Kurdish tunnel networks in western Iraq and south-eastern Türkiye.

Since the Houthis seized control of Sanaa in 2014, the group has effectively hijacked the state, putting militias in the place of institutions

Misplaced investment

The circumstances, objectives and alliances vary, yet they share a common feature: the commitment of resources and effort to constructing cities beneath the ground instead of rebuilding those above it. In the Houthis' case, this model is intertwined with broader Iranian designs. For decades, Iran's Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps has invested in training armed groups beyond the country's borders, transferring missile and drone technology and expertise to them.

Since the Houthis seized control of Sanaa in 2014, the group has effectively hijacked the state, putting militias in the place of institutions. The resources of government have been harnessed to serve the group's ambitions. Networks of taxation and levies have proliferated, alongside an expanding war economy, while opportunities for development and investment have steadily receded. As missile and drone capabilities have grown more sophisticated, the repercussions of this model have spread beyond Yemen, reaching neighbouring countries and international shipping lanes.

Here emerges a third dimension of the paradox: the Bab al-Mandab Strait. Yemen occupies a position beside one of the world's most important maritime passages, connecting the Red Sea to the Gulf of Aden and the Indian Ocean. Through its waters flows commercial traffic linking Asia and Europe via the Suez Canal. This strategic location could have transformed Yemen into a thriving centre for ports, logistics, trade and investment. Instead, Houthi attacks and direct Iranian intervention have made it a source of danger to merchant shipping, energy supplies and global supply chains.

How can freedom of navigation be guaranteed when decisions on war and peace rest outside of state institutions?

Dangerous precedent

The result is a precedent in international relations: two straits whose fate is decided in underground tunnels. Iran, whose new Supreme Leader, Mojtaba Khamenei, has yet to make a public appearance since succeeding his father, threatens the Strait of Hormuz. The Bab al-Mandab Strait, meanwhile, faces threats from Tehran through an armed group whose commanders shelter in underground hideouts, while the whereabouts of its leader, Abdulmalik al-Houthi, remain shrouded in secrecy.

How can freedom of navigation be guaranteed when decisions on war and peace rest outside the state institutions accountable for its international obligations? Yemen's sovereignty over its territory and territorial waters is not in question. What is at stake is the state's ability to exercise that sovereignty when decisions are made in Tehran rather than in Sanaa or in one of Yemen's underground tunnels.

The airport connects people. The strait connects economies. And the military tunnel, when it becomes the stronghold of a parallel authority acting at the behest of a foreign power, can threaten them both.

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