“It’s not meant to be happening here!” So went the cry of an Australian influencer as she looked out on a Dubai skyscape lit up by incoming rockets and drones from Iran. She was later criticised in the comments on her social media feed and in news outlets for her “entitlement”. But her astonishment – and that of the 15,000 Irish citizens who live in the United Arab Emirates (UAE) – was not unwarranted.
Despite its perilous location, Dubai has generally been insulated from the wars and conflicts that intermittingly roil the region. But no matter how much the “rhinestone emirate” portrays itself as an Instagrammer’s paradise, there is no escaping the geography that places it in the middle of the region’s fiercest fault lines: the Sunni/Shia divide, and Israel and Iran’s murderous mutual obsession.
The UAE, of which Dubai is one of seven self-governing emirates, and the other small Gulf states such as Qatar, Bahrain and Kuwait, have tried to straddle these divides and conflicts over the decades. To do so effectively, their governments have embraced a strategic outlook based on diplomacy and dissonance. They play host to US military bases and large Iranian populations; they sign trade deals with Washington while helping Tehran circumvent international sanctions; they have Sunni ruling families but significant Shia populations; they engage in rapprochement with Israel while their own people pray for Palestine.
In many ways, the Gulf states have adopted an “Irish approach” to dealing with the US: giving voice to an independent, neutral mindset while allowing the US military to conduct operations and renditions from its airports and airstrips. This balancing act worked for years, and the Gulf generally avoided the worst of the Middle East’s conflicts and conflagrations.
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This sense of security coupled with strong economies brought thousands of Irish people – for several years that included me – to the region. But making a long-term commitment to life in the Gulf always required a certain degree of compromise, sacrifice or self-delusion, depending on which country you choose to call home. Women can face restrictions in terms of dress and expected behaviour, socialising and even communicating over text or posting on social media comes with its own perils, and security concerns are never completely absent.
The 1990s saw the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait and more than 300 Irish citizens taken as hostages of Saddam Hussein. When I lived in Kuwait a decade later, an American and a Canadian were shot dead in the aftermath of 9/11 and the build-up to the US invasion of Iraq, while al-Qaeda carried out a string of fatal attacks on foreign workers in Saudi Arabia in the same period. That said, in truth the most dangerous thing I did in any Gulf state was get in my car and drive to work in a region with the world’s highest rates of road traffic injuries.
But the zero-sum approach of the Trump administration to geopolitics is having a two-fold effect. It is making the Gulf states walk a tightrope on Iran, the US and Israel where balance is impossible to maintain. And it is inevitably making Irish people who live in the region re-evaluate their choice of home.
The Gulf states are now being put in a position where they have to set aside their neutrality and pick a side. The Gulf Cooperation Council has started to make noises that direct retaliation against Iran by their own militaries may be necessary. Despite being a key negotiator behind the diplomacy between Washington and Tehran for many years, Qatar was not spared Iran’s wrath over the killing of supreme leader Ayatollah Khamenei. During Israel’s and America’s previous attacks on Iran in June last year targeting military infrastructure, Iran’s retribution against the Gulf states focused on US military targets. But with the current attacks by Israel and the US pursuing regime change, the Iranians have upped the ante by bringing civilian targets into play.
For many Irish expats who have put down roots in the region, this may be a moment of reckoning.
The US State Department has called on Americans to leave amid the escalating conflict, and the Department of Foreign Affairs has placed the UAE on its second-highest security warning: avoid non-essential travel.
If anyone had been living with the idea that Dubai could float on a bubble above the realities of the Middle East, this suspension of disbelief is no longer feasible. But to live long-term in the Gulf has always required ignoring some less pleasant realities, be it the treatment of migrant workers and domestic servants or a capricious legal system that favours locals over foreigners, so living with the threat of a ballistic missile or drone strike may just become another factor to add to the list.
For the thousands of Irish people with careers, businesses and children in school, departure will not really be an option, especially since many of the factors that pushed people to relocate in the first place – the out-of-control cost of living and the housing crisis – are still a reality back home.
This is also an opportunity to be reminded that Dubai, despite the recent violence, serves as a regional sanctuary for people from places such as Afghanistan, Iran, Syria, Sudan, Yemen, Lebanon, and a host of former Soviet republics, countries that have seen far worse conflict than Dubai has witnessed in the past few days. At the time of writing, the UAE has experienced three fatalities from falling debris as the country’s air defence systems engaged incoming Iranian missiles.
And life carries on. One legacy that oil, Covid-19 and the absence of troublesome democratic processes has bequeathed to the UAE is a well-organised and suitably funded public sector. Abu Dhabi and Dubai airports have allowed some intermittent departures after initially cancelling all flights. On Wednesday, hundreds of Irish people were evacuated.
In general, the online feedback from residents and travellers stranded in Dubai has been positive about government support and information sharing. Perhaps that’s not really a surprise: criticising the authorities could result in deportation or prison. In a well-choreographed sign of both defiance and reassurance, the UAE president and Dubai’s crown prince made a very public appearance to take coffee in Dubai Mall in the midst of the crisis.
The full impact of this war is still unknown, but the vast majority of Irish – and other foreign residents of Dubai and the UAE – are likely to stay, even if the bling-filled bubble has been punctured.
Raymond Barrett is an Irish journalist based in the Washington, DC area and the author of Dubai Dreams: Inside the Kingdom of Bling
