For forty days, the United Arab Emirates has stood at the intersection of two competing visions of what a nation does with its wealth and power — one that builds ports and airports, another that builds missiles and proxy forces. Over 2,800 Iranian strikes, more than nine in ten aimed at the fabric of civilian life, have forced a small Gulf state to articulate not just its grievances but its identity. As peace talks resume in Pakistan and inflammatory rhetoric echoes from Washington, the UAE finds itself navigating a war it did not choose, defending a model of prosperity it refuses to surrender
UAE Reports 2,800 Iranian Attacks in 40 Days, 90% Targeting Civilians
They wanted to break that model, but they underestimated our resolve
When Al Hashimy says 90 percent of the attacks targeted civilian infrastructure, what does that actually mean on the ground? What gets hit?
Homes. Office parks. The port facilities that move goods in and out. Airports. The things that make a modern economy function. Not barracks or weapons depots—the everyday infrastructure that civilians depend on.
And the UAE initially opposed this war. What changed their mind?
The strikes kept coming. Forty days of them. At some point, opposition becomes untenable when your own cities are being targeted. The country shifted from saying "we don't want this" to saying "we will defend ourselves."
Al Hashimy contrasts the UAE's oil wealth with Iran's. Is that contrast actually meaningful, or is it just rhetoric?
It's both. She's making a real argument about national priorities—what you choose to build versus what you choose to weaponize. But it's also a way of saying: we chose a different path, and now you're trying to destroy it.
The Trump administration is threatening to destroy Iranian civilian infrastructure. How does the UAE square that circle—wanting pressure on Iran but not wanting civilian harm?
They don't, really. They're trying to. Al Hashimy is saying the Revolutionary Guard is the problem, not the Iranian people. But once you start talking about destroying infrastructure, that distinction collapses. She knows it. That's why her language was so careful.
What happens if these peace talks in Pakistan fail?
Then the cycle continues. More strikes, more retaliation, more pressure on countries like the UAE caught in the middle. The question becomes whether anyone can actually negotiate a way out, or whether this becomes the new normal.
El Pulso
- More than 2,800 Iranian missile and drone strikes in forty days have systematically targeted the UAE's homes, ports, and airports — the architecture of everyday life, not military power.
- UAE Minister Reem Al Hashimy named the campaign for what it is: a deliberate assault on a model of tolerance and economic openness, designed to break the country's spirit rather than its defenses.
- The UAE's initial reluctance to join the US-Iran conflict has hardened into open defiance as the scale of civilian targeting made neutrality feel like complicity in its own destruction.
- Even as the Trump administration prepares a second round of peace talks in Pakistan, Washington's threats to obliterate Iranian civilian infrastructure force the UAE into an uncomfortable balancing act — supporting pressure on Tehran while refusing to endorse the destruction of ordinary Iranians.
- The Revolutionary Guard's unchanged institutional character, despite new political leadership in Iran, leaves Al Hashimy — and the region — with little room for optimism as negotiations resume.
For forty days, the United Arab Emirates has stood at the intersection of two competing visions of what a nation does with its wealth and power — one that builds ports and airports, another that builds missiles and proxy forces. Over 2,800 Iranian strikes, more than nine in ten aimed at the fabric of civilian life, have forced a small Gulf state to articulate not just its grievances but its identity. As peace talks resume in Pakistan and inflammatory rhetoric echoes from Washington, the UAE finds itself navigating a war it did not choose, defending a model of prosperity it refuses to surrender.
On the morning of April 19th, UAE Minister of State Reem Al Hashimy appeared on ABC's This Week to describe what her country had endured since the US-Iran war began in late February: more than 2,800 missile and drone strikes in forty days. The number was staggering on its own. What sharpened it into something more disturbing was the pattern — over 90 percent of those strikes had been aimed not at military installations but at civilian infrastructure. Homes. Office buildings. Ports. Airports. The ordinary connective tissue of a functioning society.
Al Hashimy did not reach for diplomatic softness. She framed the Iranian campaign as a direct attack on the UAE's identity — a nation that had chosen to invest its oil wealth in economic development and global engagement, while Iran had directed its resources toward nuclear programs, missiles, drones, and proxy forces. "They wanted to break that model," she told host Jonathan Karl, "but they underestimated our resolve." The Gulf state had initially resisted the war when the US and Israel launched their joint offensive. Two months and 2,800 strikes later, that reluctance had become defiance.
When asked whether Iran's new leadership represented a genuine shift, Al Hashimy was measured but skeptical. Different personalities, perhaps — but the Revolutionary Guard, the institution that had orchestrated the campaign against the UAE and its neighbors, had yet to demonstrate any change in character. "It doesn't seem very hopeful," she said. The Trump administration was nonetheless preparing to resume peace talks with Iranian officials in Pakistan the following day.
The conversation also turned to Washington's own rhetoric. Trump had threatened to destroy Iranian civilian infrastructure and obliterate an entire civilization if Iran refused to open the Strait of Hormuz — language that drew sharp rebukes from Democrats and human rights groups. When pressed on whether the UAE feared those threats, Al Hashimy walked a careful line: the Emirates supported sustained pressure on Iran, but not harm to ordinary Iranian people. It was a distinction that carried weight — a country that had absorbed thousands of strikes on its own civilian population was not prepared to endorse the same logic turned outward. The UAE wanted Iran constrained. It did not want a region consumed.
Over the past forty days, the United Arab Emirates has absorbed more than 2,800 missile and drone strikes. On Sunday morning, April 19th, Reem Al Hashimy, the UAE's minister of state for international cooperation, sat down with ABC's This Week to lay out the scale of what her country has endured since the US-Iran war ignited in late February. The number alone was staggering. But what made it worse, she said, was the deliberate targeting: more than 90 percent of those attacks were aimed not at military installations but at civilian infrastructure—homes, office buildings, ports, airports, the sinews of ordinary life.
Al Hashimy did not soften her language. She framed the Iranian campaign as an assault on the UAE's "model of prosperity and tolerance," and she drew a sharp line between the two nations' choices. The Emirates, she explained, had channeled its oil wealth into building an economic engine and a responsible global presence. Iran, by contrast, had poured its resources into nuclear programs, missiles, drones, and proxy forces. "They wanted to break that model," she told host Jonathan Karl, "but they underestimated our resolve."
The UAE's anger was earned. The Gulf state had initially resisted the war when the US and Israel launched their joint offensive in late February. But as the barrage continued—2,800 strikes in forty days—the country's posture hardened. What had begun as reluctance became something closer to defiance.
When asked whether Iran had fundamentally changed under its new leadership, Al Hashimy offered a measured but skeptical response. Yes, different personalities now held power. But the character of the Revolutionary Guard, the institution that had orchestrated the campaign against the UAE and its neighbors, remained to be seen. "It doesn't seem very hopeful, though," she said. Even as she spoke, the Trump administration was preparing to resume peace talks with Iranian officials in Pakistan on Monday—a second round after earlier negotiations had stalled.
The conversation also touched on the inflammatory rhetoric coming from Washington itself. Trump had previously threatened to destroy Iranian civilian infrastructure and obliterate "a whole civilization" if Iran refused to open the Strait of Hormuz, language that had drawn sharp rebukes from Democrats and human rights organizations. US Ambassador to the UN Mike Waltz, appearing on the same Sunday morning program, reiterated that "all options are on the table."
When pressed on whether the UAE worried about those threats, Al Hashimy walked a careful line. The Emirates supported pressure on Iran, she said, but not attacks on ordinary Iranian people. "That's very important to mention," she emphasized. At the same time, she placed the blame squarely on the Revolutionary Guard, which had adopted a military posture not only against the US and Israel but against the entire neighborhood—the Gulf states themselves. The distinction mattered: the UAE wanted to see Iran constrained, but not through the destruction of its civilian population. It was a position that reflected both the country's own experience of civilian targeting and its awareness that any broader conflict would ripple across a region already fractured by war.
Citas Notables
We used our oil wealth to build an economic powerhouse. They used their wealth for nuclear programs that are nefarious, for missiles, drones, proxies.— Reem Al Hashimy, UAE Minister of State for International Cooperation
We don't want to hurt the Iranian people. That's very important to mention. But at the same time, it's the Revolutionary Guard that have taken forward a military stance and a posture not against the US and Israel alone, but against the very neighbourhood that they operate in.— Reem Al Hashimy