Dubai: from sand to gold

Part 2. : The Unseen

source: personal archives, 2024.

By the morning of my third day in Dubai, after wandering among the skyscrapers and along the beach, I decided it was time to explore less frequented, if not more remote, places. Each year, thousands of workers, primarily from Asia and Africa, arrive in Dubai to toil on construction sites, drive taxis, or fill one of the countless service jobs that keep the city in perpetual motion. As is often the case, the promised land is rarely the one found—or at least not for everyone. Only a small fraction of the migrant population can access the dream life Dubai claims to offer. When people insist with conviction that Dubai guarantees an unparalleled quality of life, I often reply: “Perhaps, but for whom? And at what cost?”.

While studying maps and combing through articles, I had identified areas that seemed to hold the darker stories of Dubai. By the time I arrived, the emirate’s opacity regarding its immigration policies and financial practices was no longer a secret. But witnessing these realities firsthand was a far more challenging endeavor.

Behind the Facade

Heading inland, away from the glistening facades of the skyscrapers, one begins to glimpse the other side of the city. A reluctant taxi driver finally takes me to Sonapur, a district hidden behind concrete barriers and rows of barbed wire. Here lie the camps where workers from every corner of the globe are crammed into overcrowded dormitories, far from the world they labor to build. The height of this cynicism revealed itself when I learned that Sonapur means “land of gold” in Hindi. Hoping to wander freely and capture a few candid photographs, I quickly thought better of it. Here, it is not the streets themselves that one should fear, but those who monitor them.

Let us not be naive: Dubai is far from alone in perpetuating such exploitative practices. The development of the West since the Industrial Revolution has been built on innumerable human sacrifices, that perdure, however now distanced from our daily awareness, and farther from our sight. And if the emirate can maintain one of the world’s most opaque fiscal and financial systems without much reproach, it is because, in the end, everyone benefits. Through our presence here, through the services we enjoy so readily, through the luxury that dazzles and soothes us, we tacitly accept its price.

Social Lives

In Dubai, perhaps more than anywhere else, the gap between the world of migrants and that of Emiratis seems deliberately engineered. Some days I felt I could walk the streets for hours without encountering a single local. Even now, I cannot fully grasp how life for the autochtones really is, as though it doesn’t exist at all.

In Berlin, where I live, I feel confident in saying that, despite its idiosyncrasies as a capital city, it still reflects certain cultural traits rooted in Germany. One can sense a distinctly German approach to social life and even, for those who make the effort, build friendships with Germans and adopt a local way of living.

But what can one cling to in a city whose social fabric seems woven from floating individuals—whether they are here by choice or necessity—unable to envision a future in a place they neither fully understand nor control? Here, it seems one must take what is given without asking too many questions. Dubai is designed for itself, by itself. It is not intended to evolve for the integration or well-being of a stable population—not even, perhaps, its own.

And yet, the lives of the Emiratis intrigue me still. One evening, we left behind the tourist restaurants and fast-food joints of the Marina to visit an Iraqi restaurant in Jumeirah, reputed to be a local institution. The setting was rich and inviting: embroidered cushions, Persian rugs, an air of solemn hospitality. For the first time, not a single foreigner was in sight. I watched in silence: taciturn couples, families, and groups of men engrossed in serious conversations. People moved quietly, speaking in hushed tones. Some worked while an endless stream of servers delivered platters of braised lamb, grilled meats, and pickled vegetables. For a few hours, I felt I had touched something genuine, a slice of the ordinary life that shapes any city.

Consequences of a chosen path

I find it hard to believe that Dubai’s chosen path of development has not come at a cost for its native population. Let us not forget that the emirate is governed by a small group of individuals whose power rests on clan ties, and that the majority of locals have limited involvement in the city’s affairs. Certainly, oil wealth meets material needs, and the whirlwind of activity must inspire pride and access to the wider world. But lost in this ceaseless motion and ever-expanding foreign presence, how does one hold on to one’s bearings? How do ties and traditions not slowly unravel?

One might think Dubai is merely the playground of capricious children with boundless wealth, determined to transform every decadent dream into reality. And at first glance, the emirate does give off that impression. Yet, dig a little deeper, and it becomes clear that its development is far from random. A capitalist laboratory, Dubai constantly reinvents itself, embarking on ever more ambitious projects to attract new clienteles.

I remain convinced that no place on earth is trivial or devoid of interest. What may appear superficial often conceals far more complex mechanisms, fascinating to unravel. I can see how it might be easy to live in Dubai if one chooses to overlook what the emirate represents. In truth, I like to think that, more than a project sprung from nowhere, Dubai is a symbol of what the world can produce at its most extreme and unyielding. The emirate exists as it is because the path of excess, extravagance, and shadow needed to be opened—or perhaps renewed.

I regret nothing about this journey. There are still many missing pieces to form a complete portrait, and I leave almost more confused than when I arrived. But this very confusion is a kind of clarity: I feel closer now to the possible truth the city holds. And as the taxi carries me back to the airport and the sky fades into its sandy twilight, I imagine the life I might lead here—far from the turmoil of wars and European political chaos, falling asleep each night in this golden nest. Perhaps life really would be gentler there.

But is it the gentleness we truly should wish for?

References:

• « Dubai Uncovered » : révélations sur l’immobilier de l’émirat, destination providentielle pour l’argent sale des oligarques et des criminels,* Jérémie Baruch, Anne Michel et Vincent Nouvet, Le Monde, 2022

• Dubai, glitz or glitch : a portrait of a dreamed city in recessionary times, Marc Lavergne , 2009

• City of Gold. Dubai and the Dream of Capitalism, Jim Krane, 2009

• From rags to riches: a story of Abu Dhabi, Mohammad Al Fahim, 1995