Last week I was guest of a foreign university in Abu-Dhabi, participating in a conference on urban-planning and development.
Before accepting the invitation, I had misgivings about going. The United Arab Emirates are undemocratic, run by a monarchy made wealthy by the considerable oil reserves in their territory. Their foreign policy in Sudan is questionable, as is the way that foreign workers are treated.
I overcame these misgivings, partly out of curiosity, but partly out of realism: Britain is a monarchy in which there is a royal prerogative to circumvent the law , Canada exports resources (including dirty oil) as well as arms to Israel, and Québec is increasingly intolerant towards its minorities. So, the UAE hardly stands out.
Impressions of Abu-Dhabi
From an urban planning perspective, my impression of Abu-Dhabi is that it is awful (but not unlike some cities in Canada and the US!).
It is a sprawling car-dominated smog-laden city, criss-crossed by 6 to 8 lane roads and almost without public transport (but there are a few buses). City blocks are typically privatised, made up of gated communities or of towers giving onto privatised podiums. These privatised spaces are generally pleasant, but they are constraining: as soon as one leaves one is in an urban no-man’s land of wide roads, fast cars, and long distances.
Most ‘public’ spaces are privately run, requiring an entrance fee, though there are a few beaches and parks that are open to everyone. However, given the city’s layout, access to these requires a car for most people.
Social stratification
As in all places, there is social stratification. My first impression is that there are three main classes in Abu-Dhabi (with, I am sure, infinite nuances). At the top is a relatively small aristocracy of Emiratis (maybe 10% of the population), who occupy positions of leadership and control within the public system and government.
The rest of the population consists of foreigners, broadly split into two classes. First, a comfortably-off class of expats, working in high-status jobs: they have been ‘imported’ for their knowledge, connections, skills and human-capital. Their status remains precarious : they must be careful to not criticize the UAE since residence permits are granted and revoked at the whim of government. These permits are also conditional upon remaining employed. This gives considerable power to employers who, if they sack an employee, effectively terminate their residence in UAE.
Second, there is a low-payed servant class, which seems to consist of people from India, Bangladesh, Phillipines and some African countries. Their status is also precarious. As I understand it they are recruited abroad, and can remain in the UAE so long as they are employed and play by the (somewhat nebulous) rules.
Surveillance and centralised power
Although we are rapidly getting used to surveillance and to the extension of arbitrary state power in Western countries, these are taken to a whole new level in Abu-Dhabi where surveillance cameras are ubiquitous, traffic fines texted in real-time to one’s phone, and passport ID (for me; UAE residence permit for residents) required when one enters almost any building.
I sensed a fairly clear social norm that, in public, one must be careful what one says about the UAE government. In private, and if not trumpeted too loudly, questions and critique are possible – though I guess it depends on the company one keeps.
I had a constant sense that I could remain in the UAE only if I kept on the right side of the powers-that-be (not unlike Trump’s USA). State power is not directly visible (for instance the streets are not noticeably patrolled) but there is a pervasive feeling of surveillance and evaluation.
The good sides of UAE
My impressions of UAE, and Abu-Dhabi in particular, are therefore not overwhelmingly positive.
However, many of the things that made me uncomfortable have become features of our Western ‘democracies’ (surveillance, low-paid temporary workers, social stratification, a class of wealthy people above the law…): therefore, I am not about to criticize UAE.
Rather, it is striking how my visit there brought into sharp relief some everyday features of countries I am familiar with (such as Canada, Britain and France) but which now pass unnoticed by dint of habituation. Experiencing these features in a new context brings them into perspective.
When chatting with foreign residents, one thing becomes clear. Provided one plays by the rules, Abu-Dhabi is a very safe place to live, far safer than some of the places my interlocutors come from (such as Lebanon or the Cameroons). This safety is felt not only by wealthier expats, but also by members of the servant class: notwithstanding their low pay, crowded living conditions and long hours, service-workers in UAE (at least the few whose stories I am aware of1) are relieved that the UAE is a safe place, a place where they *do* receive their pay (however low), and from which they can scrape together some money to send home.
My personal experience is that the UAE is indeed very safe, with little concern about petty crime and theft. I was particularly marked by the manner in which low-paid delivery people left their running motorcyles by the side of the road as they performed their deliveries – clearly there was no apprehension that someone would leap onto them and ride away!
The attitude that seems to prevail is that, if the price of safety and economic stability is staying quiet and playing by the rules, so be it. “Democracy” and the ability to express oneself are seen as luxuries, which pale in comparison to being able to make a living and have some economic security and stability.
Were my initial qualms justified?
I am relating my impressions from a five-day visit. They are *impressions* and therefore superficial. Still, given the qualms I had about going, I felt it useful to spell out my post-visit impressions.
The main one is that, whatever qualms I may have about the UAE, they are to some extent hypocritical: many of the things I feel uncomfortable about in the UAE are also features (to a greater or lesser extent) of the countries I come from (Canada, Britain and France)…. including some awful cities dominated by cars!
It is also important to avoid being judgemental of Emiratis or of those who live there: as the ‘West’ turns away immigrants, becomes increasingly intolerant, and reduces opportunities for its own graduates, where are they to go?
The UAE, for all its faults, seems to offer a fairly safe and stable destination, one that is appreciated by those who get there.
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1 During my short stay I did not speak directly with members of the servant class, other than in purely tansactional ways. However, I discussed this privately with researchers conducting interviews, and relate what they told me.
Richard Shearmur 