A few points, after a couple of days of reading and reflecting.
For many expats who live and work in the UAE this is no surprise. Those who still insist that Dubai is financially sound -- or viable, or sane, or even “real” – must be shopping, driving, working and living whilst wearing glasses so rose-coloured that even the brown Dubai air looks pink. Perhaps it’s a natural human trait to ignore, or at least compartmentalise into some deep recess of the brain, any signs or signals that might force one to question one’s environment (or one’s self) when the place appears so bright and blissful. But that view of Dubai is one-dimensional; under that happy shiny Disney surface lives a nasty troll of a reality. Dubai is George Orwell’s 1984 alive and unwell in 2009.
The “Life is good” mantra that flows from the pages of the Gulf News, through the malls, and bars and golf clubs -- from Deira, along Jumierah all the way to the Marina – is real alright. In the same sense that movie dialogue is real, and Las Vegas is real, and Disneyland is real. That is to say they exist, but only in their own context.
As one sips a nice cold $10 beer at Barasti on Thursday night, laughing and joking with one’s peers, one doesn’t tend to dwell much on the enigmas that might dampen the warm dry desert evening: If all those apartments in the Marina, The Palm, and even The Lakes, are all sold out, why are most of them empty? (Clue: They are indeed “sold out” as soon as they come onto the market. Sold to “Royals” by Emaar or Nakheel, or whomever. Then to someone else. Then maybe to you. But more likely held. It has to do with money. Big money. Money made. Money transferred.)
And that “no swimming” at the beaches thing. Interesting what one might learn if one were inclined to talk (quietly) to one of those sewage truck drivers. You know the ones I mean; lined up for up to 12 hours to dump their “load” at the world-class treatment plant. The plant that can only process 25% of what’s generated. So where does the rest go? No! It can’t be true in this world-class City-of-the-Future.
Which brings us to the word “infrastructure”. In Dubai, companies and governments use that word when they really mean “superstructure.” Dubai has “world-class” buildings and highways and malls and bridges and airports. That is not what is missing. What is missing is the infrastructure to support all the concrete “stuff”. Meaning a truly functional bureaucracy. (Anyone who lives there, or has lived there, can describe the farce that passes for services, rules, regulations, forms, queues, etc.) Most importantly, a few years hence, the world will find out what happens to “world class” structures when real infrastructure is absent: i.e. enforcement of construction standards and regulations by inspectors that really do ensure concrete meets the specifications.
The real Dubai – the one seen through the eyes of the waitresses, cashiers, and bartenders from South East Asia and Africa – is a place of racism, little hope, and a few dirhams a month left over to feed family back home.
The real Dubai – as seen through the eyes of all those born there, but not of Emirati parental origin -- is a place where one is, and forever will be, Stateless. No rights, no citizenship, no place to call home.
The real Dubai – as seen through the eyes of the servant girls and maids from Who-Knows-Where (because they haven’t been hired, but “purchased”) is a place where one lives in either constant fear, or simple resignation.
The real Dubai – as seen through the eyes of the construction worker from Sri Lanka, the cab driver from India, or the hooker from Nigeria – is a place of servitude. A 21st Century receiver and user of slaves. No rights, no respite from 12-hour work days, no advocates. Lies, a huge loan to pay a trafficker for a visa, or even outright kidnapping got you there. And no hope of ever being able to buy your way out. God have mercy on those who get desperate enough to speak out about working or living conditions (as some poor souls have). One first gets physically punished, then sentenced to three months in prison. A real prison; a somewhat mediaeval prison some would even say. Followed by deportation home; to face the “businessman” one stills owes thousands of dollars to, for the visa to the promised land. Many realise suicide is the only real exit from the nightmare.
The real Dubai – as seen through the eyes of Emirati “royals” – is a place of joy. The joy that can only come from absolute power. And absolute control. A place of multi-million dollar aircraft, cars, homes and horses. And servants of course, in all the worst senses of that word.
Lastly, anyone who still has faith in the ability of the world’s financial markets, and financial regulators, to adequately assess risk, and reasonably predict outcomes, hasn’t been paying attention. And that includes any supposed valuation of UAE reserves and sovereign funds.
Suggested Reading: Ozymandias, P.B. Shelley, 1818.