Taking on the Gulf – Second year Middle East students travel to the Persian Gulf
By Nate Rosenblatt
Middle East students travel to the Arabian Gulf
We stood at the peak of an especially large sand dune as the chilling wind of the desert evening cut through the fabric of our clothes. A not-so-subtle hint that the sun was setting on what would be our last of fourteen enlightening days and nights in Kuwait and the United Arab Emirates. Though the perfect setting to reflect on our junket, we had little time to do so, for we were in the presence of royalty and had to uphold the reputation of our venerable school of advanced international studies.
A combination of cutting edge and old world symbolizes these oil states, which manifests itself in unexpected places. That evening we would meet a Sheikh, his royal entourage and his birds engaging a sport of kings thousands of years old: falconing. But, it was falconing with GPS.
Strapped to their tail feathers, tracking devices kept tabs on the sleek, well-trained and expensive birds as they pierced the desert sky on a beeline to catch their tasty pigeon dinner. It was shocking and exciting. Especially after the falcon catches his prey and you recklessly careen at high speeds through the desert in Mitsubishi 4×4s to chase him.
The Emirates part of our trip was mostly designed for us to have fun. We toured the Gulf in a yacht over dinner, went on a safari, visited every seven star hotel in the country and ate camel in the palace of a man we called “Your Excellency”. The wealth that surrounds you there is so incalculable–Caviar Body Treatment at the Burj al-Arab Hotel is 900 Dirham for instance–that after a while we simply stopped trying. It is a country obsessed with the “est”, as in biggest, tallest, largest and best.
Juxtaposing Kuwait with the UAE was unavoidable. “We have a Manhattan coming up next to us that is making us look like a village,” bemoaned one Kuwaiti professor. When asked what they do on weekends, young Kuwaitis said they “…go to Dubai because there is nothing to do here.” Despite this detectable inferiority complex, Kuwaitis take pride in upholding the traditions of free speech and democratic participation unique to their country.
“Dubai is a revolutionary place, but you can’t speak your mind,” explained a CEO of one of Kuwait’s largest investment firms. “That democratic process is missing in so many ways,” said Dr. Shafeeq al-Gabra, a professor at the University of Kuwait. “Many of the parliamentarians who got elected don’t like democracy…religious men elected are confused between their religion and their politics.”
Apart from religious-state issues, another complication to the Kuwaiti system is a law banning political parties. “We have fifty members in Parliament,” explained Jassem el-Khorafi, Kuwait’s speaker of parliament, “and I consider each member to be a political party.”
To many Kuwaitis, these men (there are women in the cabinet, but none are elected officials) paralyze the legislative decision-making process. “There is no business in Kuwait because they [the parliament] delay everything,” said Waleed al-Nisf, editor in chief of one of Kuwait’s top news publications.
“They talk too much about politics and not enough about improving Kuwait. Everyone in the Gulf does not want a parliament because of what happens in Kuwait.” Said Al-Nisf in one of our last meetings in Kuwait, aptly encapsulating what we saw as a frustrating stasis gripping the country.
Though their differences are stark, in the end, preserving the local culture and citizenship has become the greatest struggle for both Kuwaitis and Emiratis. “Like the war on terror here, it is a matter of national security for them,” as one US Foreign Service officer described.
The first men and women born into the independent oil state have fully internalized this worldview. As recent university graduates, this generation sees citizenship as entitlement, “You may come and work here,” one of our more enigmatic hosts explained, “and you may stay for even thirty years, but ultimately you are a guest in our country. This land is not yours, it’s ours.”
As night fell on our “dune bashing” excursion, we were invited to sit by the fire of a desert camp. When a safe amount of time passed after dinner, there was dancing and our hosts invited us on stage to teach us some traditional dance moves. Once they felt satisfied that we understood its basic concept, we were left onstage. The dancing went on throughout the night, to the tune of a timeless, seemingly unending, local beat. But after a while we found we were dancing alone.
In retrospect that night, fun as it was, illuminated a cold, sobering truth about the Emirates: for all its Sorbonnes and Free Trade Zones, it is not a place any of us could call home. We were treated like royalty and encouraged to return, but only as guests, kept at bay by a sense of belonging jealously guarded.
Nate Rosenblatt is a second year M.A. candidate in Middle Studies.
Filed Under: Featured • February 2009 • News
About the Author: 