The American dream in the Arabian sands
It is commonly said that one's eyes are a window to one's soul. If this statement can be slighltly twisted, I would say Dubai's international airport is a window to the rest of the emirate, the largest in the federation of several comprising the Gulf sheikhdom. With its immense Greek style columns, effervenescent lights illuminating its every square millimeter, and scores of airport employees ready to serve, it is an accurate preview of what is to come. It is of course a widely known story that under the rule of Sheikh Mohammed of Dubai, the place has grown from a pimple in the middle of the desert to a hot tourist destination, a financial center and a hotbed...no, not for international terrorists, but for international architects.
Even for the most avid traveller, Dubai, with its magnificent skyline dotted with intringuingly mishaped and ostentatiously lit up buildings does what it intends to do - awe and amaze. It is not just the famous Burj Dubai but virtually every building decorating its exquisite skyline that is fascinating. Driving around the city's traffic-packed streets, one gets the impression that the ruler of Dubai, who, in the best of Middle Eastern traditions is posted on every corner, gazing at a pool with pink flamingos, had a vision for developing this place that does not just include some rare birds.
Architects were flown in and seem to have been told to go at it, construction companies were mobilised to support their dreams, and in the end, out of the empty and vast desert emerged glass skyscrapers of all shapes, colours and hights, like pieces of lego carelessly thrown around in a half-finished plan. The financial crisis has definitely clipped the wings of the ambitions of the fearless sheikh, as companies, some private, others owned by the said sheikh and his vast royal family have stopped littering the skyline of Dubai with construction cranes. Today, Dubai is on the brink of bankruptcy and is borrowing from its oil-rich neighbour, Abu Dhabi, which pits the royal relations uncomfortably under the spotlight, and -one would imagine - under strain.
Whether this is the end of the sheikh's dream is questionable. Construction cranes might have slowed down or disappeared altogether, but the sheikh and his clan command most of the local economy, consistent with the strange breed of state-driven capitalism common to this part of the world. It is in fact the exact opposite of communism or good old industrial capitalism - here, the states is the industry, the state is the government and the state is the dreamer behind Dubai. The same face overlooking the pond with pink flamingos is behind it all.
It is easy, and in fact not incorect to dismiss this place is a theocracy, where in the mirror image of the 80-20 rule, 20 % of local emiratis (almost all with some linkages to one royal clan or another) control this place, and where the other 80% slave to make the dreams of the 20% come true. The 80% are the indians, philipinnos, chinese, and egyptians who come to Dubai to escape their homeland, and as some argue, to find a different kind of misery. Many come here alone to work and send most of their earnings to their families which they have the good luck to visit at best once a year. The human rights abuses, accidents at the construction cites and the sometimes deplorable conditions of live of these expatriate workers have been widely criticised.
I don't mean to take an argument with that. I just wonder if anyone has stopped to think and realise that in a weird, twisted and unfair way, this place is the American dream for these indians, egyptians and chinese, who are of course a clear underclass here, but an employed underclass, no longer living in the slums of Cairo, Mumbai or Islamabad. In Dubai, they are everywhere: in restaurants, in hotels, in every business or residential building. But, they are also part of a perhaps small but somewhat growing upper class of shopkeepers and cafe owners, which of course does not place them anywhere near the minority locals, but has given them an opportunity to be a part of this project - this dream, which is maybe not their dream, but maybe their children's. After all, the first generation immigrants that have and continue to settle America are also the ones mostly cleaning, repairing and selling as opposed to wearing branded suits and making decisions on Capitol Hill.
Ironically, I doubt if anyone thinks of Dubai as the American dream, particularly that the bitter aftertaste of the foreign policies of the Bush administration has not entirely vanished in this part of the world. And indeed, Dubai would not be an American dream for those educated and trained Egyptian, Chinese and Indian middle classes who are looking to find their dreams in that vast country, but I think it is a sort of a dream for those looking for to find it here. Like all dreams, it is just a fairy table, which evaporates when faced with reality. These people can be told to leave the country at any moment in time, which makes the service here so unparalleled and those receiving the services feel almost guilty. And I was writing this post, the door bell of my spectacular Jumeirah Emirates Towers room rang several times with various "dreamers" offering to clean my room, bring me chocolates or offer anything else my heart desires. It is not my dream, and it is certainly not the limits of theirs, but as it turns out - everything in life, including dreaming, is relative.
