BEIRUT — Columns of black smoke rose up to meet Middle East Airlines Flight 230 as it started its approach toward Lebanon’s only international airport.
It was shortly before midnight and Israeli fighter jets were roaring over the country’s capital, Beirut, after carrying out a wave of airstrikes against the Iranian-backed militant group Hezbollah. Several of their targets were burning in neighborhoods immediately next to the Beirut-Rafic Hariri International Airport.
The captain of ME230 began flying slow loops over the Mediterranean, monitoring his fuel gauge and hoping the Israeli warplanes would move away. But when they did not, a Lebanese air traffic controller began broadcasting on an emergency frequency, warning that the passenger plane needed to land before it ran out of fuel.
The March 6 incident, recounted to NBC News by Lebanese Transport Minister Fayez Rasamny on Friday, illustrates the stark challenge facing authorities as they try to keep the airport open even as Israeli strikes rain down around it on a near-daily basis.
Beirut–Rafic Hariri’s eastern runway juts into the Dahiyeh suburbs, a Hezbollah stronghold that Israel has targeted almost every day since March 2, when a salvo of rockets fired by the militants sparked a new Israeli offensive into Lebanon. Some Israeli strikes have fallen less than a mile from the perimeter fence.
“It’s very challenging, it’s very uncertain, but we took a decision to keep our airspace open since day one of the war,” Rasamny said in an interview in his Beirut office. “We’re monitoring every day, every hour the situation at the airport.”
He said Flight ME230 was eventually able to land safely after Israeli fighter jets peeled away following the emergency broadcast. “You need the air traffic controllers to have the courage to manage this. And you need the pilot to have the courage to manage all of this. And they were in sync,” he added.
The airport is a lifeline for Lebanon, a small country whose only land borders are with hostile Israel and war-torn Syria. For Lebanon’s large diaspora population, it is the only way home.
Most international carriers canceled flights to Beirut amid the wider war in the Middle East. But the Lebanese flag carrier, Middle East Airlines (MEA), is still flying around four flights a day. It has become common for MEA aircraft, adorned with the cedar tree, Lebanon’s national symbol, to take off amid clouds of smoke from Israeli attacks.
Rasamny said the United States has given the Lebanese government assurances that Israel will not attack the airport or endanger civilian aircraft. “I’m in direct contact with the American ambassador to make sure that the airport is safeguarded and also the road leading to the airport,” he said.
Washington’s assurances are critical. In July 2006, Israel bombed the airport during a previous war with Hezbollah. All three runways were damaged and several buildings destroyed after Israel accused the militant group of using the airport for smuggling weapons.
Mohammad Aziz, the head of Lebanon’s Civil Aviation Authority, said that Israel’s air force usually pauses its bombing when a passenger plane is approaching. “They stop, they let you land, and then they continue,” he said. “It’s not a gentleman’s agreement. But there is a level of understanding.”
One pilot, who spoke on the condition of anonymity because he was not authorized to speak publicly, said it was common to see smoke from previous strikes during a landing. But he said if strikes were ongoing, there were protocols to divert to nearby airports like Cyprus.
“I wouldn’t attempt a landing if there are ongoing bombs,” he said. “You feel a big responsibility for the passengers and for the crew. We all want to come home safely and be with our loved ones.”
This patchwork of assurances and understandings held throughout the year of fighting between Israeli forces and Hezbollah fighters that followed Hamas’ October 2023 attack on southern Israel. The airport was kept out of the line of fire even when Israel pounded the Dahiyeh neighborhood in pursuit of Hezbollah’s top leaders.
Rasamny said he held rounds of meetings and risk assessments every day to make sure it was still safe to keep flying. Officials can only relax when the last flight of the day touches down at around 2 a.m., he said. “Then we go to sleep and wake up the next day and manage the situation again.”
At the quiet arrivals halls last week, a trickle of passengers emerged off an MEA flight from Istanbul. One Lebanese woman said smoke from an airstrike was still hanging over the city as their plane came in to land. She shrugged. “We’re used to it.”
