DUBAI -
ILLUSIONS OF GRANDEUR
Dubai is uniquely vulnerable
Stes de Necker
Dubai was meant to be a Middle-Eastern
Shangri-La, a glittering monument to Arab enterprise and western capitalism.
But as hard times arrive in the city state that rose from the desert sands, an
uglier story is emerging Countless
building constructions are standing half-finished, seemingly abandoned.
Once the manic burst of building has stopped and the whirlwind has slowed, the secrets of Dubai are slowly seeping out.
In
the swankiest new constructions – like the vast Atlantis
Hotel, a giant pink
castle built in 1,000 days for $1.5 bn on its own artificial island – rainwater
is leaking from the ceilings and the tiles are falling off the roof.
This
is a city built from nothing in just a few wild decades on credit and ecocide,
suppression and slavery. Dubai is a living metal metaphor for the neo-liberal
globalised world that may be crashing into history.
There is no concept of bankruptcy in Dubai. If someone gets into debt and they can't pay, they go to prison. As soon as someone quits his/her job in Dubai, the employer has to inform the
bank. If such
a person have
any outstanding debts that aren't covered by their savings, then all their
accounts are
frozen, and they are forbidden to leave the country.
All
over the city, there are maxed-out expats sleeping secretly in the sand-dunes
or the airport or in cars. Nothing is what it seems.
Dubai isn't a city,
it's an elaborate con-job.
Thirty
years ago, almost all of contemporary Dubai was desert, inhabited only by
cactuses and tumbleweed and scorpions. But downtown there are traces of the
town that once was, buried amidst the metal and glass. In the dusty fort of the
Dubai Museum, a sanitised version of this story is told.
In
the mid-18th century, a small village was built here, in the lower Persian
Gulf, where people would dive for pearls off the coast.
It
soon began to accumulate a cosmopolitan population washing up from Persia, the
Indian subcontinent, and other Arab countries, all hoping to make their
fortune. They named it after a local locust, the daba, which
consumed
everything before it.
The
town was soon seized by the gunships of the British Empire, who held it as late
as 1971. As they scuttled away, Dubai decided to ally with the six surrounding
states and make up the United Arab Emirates (UAE).
The
British quit just as oil was being discovered, and the sheikhs, who
were left in charge, suddenly
found themselves facing a remarkable dilemma. They were
largely illiterate nomads who spent their lives driving camels through the
desert – yet now they owned a vast pot of gold.
Dubai
only had a dribble of oil compared to neighbouring Abu Dhabi – so Sheikh Maktoum
decided to use the revenues to build something that would last.
Like Israel used to boast it made the desert bloom,
Sheikh Maktoum
resolved to make the desert bloom. He
would build a city to be a centre of tourism and financial
services, sucking
up cash and talent from across the globe. He invited the world to come tax-free
– and they came in their millions, swamping the local population, who now make
up just 5 per cent of Dubai.
A whole
city seemed to fall
from the sky in just three decades, whole and complete and swelling. They
fast-forwarded from the 18th century to the 21st in a single generation.
But it is not the sheikh that built
the city. It
was built by slaves.
There
are three different Dubai’s, all swirling around each other.
There
are the expats, there are the Emiratis, headed by Sheikh Mohammed, and then there is the foreign
underclass who built the city, and are trapped here.
Every
evening, the hundreds of thousands of young men who are
building Dubai, are bussed from their sites to a vast
concrete wasteland an hour out of town, where they are quarantined away.
Until
a few years ago they were shuttled back and forth on cattle trucks, but lately
the expats are
shunted on small metal buses that function like greenhouses in the desert heat.
They sweat like sponges being slowly wrung out.
Sonapur
is a rubble-strewn patchwork of miles and miles of identical concrete
buildings. Some 300,000 men live piled up here, in a place whose name in Hindi
means "City of Gold ".
A
Human Rights Watch study found there is a "cover-up of the true
extent" of deaths of expats from heat exhaustion, overwork and
suicide. The
Indian consulate registered 971 deaths of their nationals in
2005 alone. After this figure was leaked, the consulates were told to stop counting.
Dubai
is currently being reduced to its component sounds: do-buy, but in the most expensive malls shops are
standing empty.
Between
the malls, there is nothing but the connecting tissue of asphalt. Every road
has at least four lanes. Dubai looks like a motorway punctuated by shopping
centres.
Dubai is a dictatorship. The royal family own
the country, and the people are their servants. There is very
little freedom
in Dubai. Most companies are owned by the Government,
so it
comes as no surprise that they oppose human rights laws; because it will reduce their profit
margins.
The last time there was a depression, there was a starburst of democracy in Dubai, seized by
force from the sheikhs.
In
the 1930s, the city's merchants banded together against Sheikh Said bin Maktum
al-Maktum – the absolute ruler of his day – and insisted they be given control
over the state finances. It lasted only a few years, before
the Sheikh – with the enthusiastic support of the British – snuffed them out.
Sheikh
Mohammed has turned Dubai into ‘Creditopolis’, a city built entirely on debt.
Dubai
owes 107 percent of its entire GDP. It would have gone bust already if the neighbouring
oil-soaked state of Abu Dhabi hadn't bailed them out. Already, new media laws have been
drafted forbidding the press to report on anything that could
"damage" Dubai or "its economy". Dubai waves Islamism as the threat somewhere
over the horizon. Every Imam is appointed by the Government, and every sermon is tightly
controlled to keep it moderate.
Dumai’ns lives with a "psychological trauma". Their hearts are divided between pride
on one side, and fear on the other.
All
over Dubai, numerous projects that were under construction are now under collapse while projects that were completed just before the global
economy crash, look empty and tattered.
The
Atlantis Hotel was opened last winter in a $20m ‘fin-de-siecle’ party attended by Robert De Niro, Lindsay Lohan and
Lily Allen. Sitting on its own fake island – shaped, of course like a palm tree
– it looks like an immense upturned tooth in a faintly decaying mouth. But when
it unexpectedly started raining, water was leaking from the roof, and tiles started
falling off.
Dubai
is not just a city living beyond its financial means; it is living beyond
its ecological means as well. The new Tiger Woods Golf Course needs four
million gallons of water to be pumped on to its grounds every day, or it would
simply shrivel and disappear on the winds.
The
city is regularly washed over with dust-storms that fog up the skies and turn
the skyline into a blur and when the dust parts, the heat burns through. It dehydrates
anything that is not kept constantly, artificially wet. On average, Dubai only
has enough water to last one week because there is no storage of fresh water.
Dubai
was built in a place with no useable water. There is no surface water, very
little aquifer, and among the lowest rainfall in the world. So Dubai drinks the
sea. The Emirates' water is stripped of salt in vast desalination plants around
the Gulf – making it the most expensive water on earth.
It
costs more than petrol to produce, and belches vast amounts of carbon dioxide
into the atmosphere as it goes. Residents of Dubai have the biggest average
carbon footprint of all human beings on earth– more than double that of the Americans.
When
the recession turns into depression, Dubai will have a very big problem.
Water
is the main source of life and when water becomes unavailable, it would be a
catastrophe. The average resident of Dubai needs three times more water to live
on than any other average human being on earth.
Global
warming makes the problem even worse. If the sea level rises, most of all the artificial
islands will disappear under the water.
In the looming century of water
stresses and a transition away from fossil fuels, Dubai is uniquely vulnerable.
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