Another prominent mechanism for guarding and preserving the social base of national elites in the Gulf monarchies has been the adoption of a ‘national dress’ code. There are significant variations across the region, with men and women in Oman, Saudi Arabia, and Kuwait wearing several different styles of garments, and with the younger generations in all six Gulf monarchies increasingly wearing western clothes during their leisure time. For the most part the older generations in all these countries, and most citizens — young and old — in the wealthiest of the Gulf monarchies tend to wear a fairly strict uniform of white thobes or dish-dashas (men) or black abayas (women). Such quotidian sartorial choices allow the observer to differentiate instantly between a citizen and an expatriate, which helps the former to access the aforementioned privileges associated with citizenship and the concomitant elevated social status they bring. In those monarchies such as Qatar or the UAE where the material rewards of citizenship are the greatest and where the expatriate component of the total resident population is the highest, adherence to the dress code is most prevalent. As one recent study put it, ‘it is no mere fashion that leads all Qatar national men to wear their traditional thob at all times… the emir and his government have perpetuated these neotraditional myths of authenticity, allowing the creation of a citizen autocracy’.[254] Certainly, it is very important to note that this dress code is primarily a product of the oil era and the rentier state: although sometimes referred to as ‘traditional dress’ or even ‘Islamic dress’ by foreigners, the current national dress code in these Gulf monarchies has few roots in tradition or religion, with early pre-oil photographs from the region demonstrating that the indigenous populations once wore a variety of colours and styles.
Further connected to the dress code, it is also notable how in recent years some male ruling family members have increasingly adopted different colours for their dishdashas, especially when making public appearances. This often results in formal events or occasions where the most senior sheikh present is dressed in black, brown, or blue, while other nationals wear white. In this manner the patron distinguishes himself from the regular citizenry by being visibly superior. Also of interest, and reinforcing the argument that dress code marks elite status and those benefiting from distributed wealth, is the reaction to expatriates who adopt national dress. While little attention is paid to tourists buying and trying on such clothes, to Caucasian-origin western expatriates, or to prostitutes (who regularly wear national dress in order to move discreetly between locations), there is generally a negative reaction to Arab, South Asian, or African expatriates (or any person who could be confused with a citizen) who may try to wear such dress. These attempts are usually viewed as an encroachment on the entitlement of nationals, and on some occasions even lead to police intervention. From another angle, it is also interesting that some of the indigenous Gulf communities who seemingly have the least to gain from the survival of the current regimes choose not to adopt national dress. Notably, the Shia population of Bahrain (and increasingly the Shia population of Saudi Arabia’s restive Eastern Province) now infrequently wear national dress. And since the onset of the Bahrain revolution in February 2011 it has become commonplace for protestors to burn effigies of white dishdashas — representing the Al-Khalifa ruling family and their supporters — from washing lines in their back yards.
Co-opting expatriates
For decades the Gulf monarchies have relied on substantial expatriate workforces, not only because of the small size of their indigenous populations relative to the enormous development opportunities that have arisen since the first oil booms, but also because of the benefits and privileges enjoyed by citizens and their subsequent preference for public sector employment. Today, there are now several million foreigners employed in these states, working across all sectors, and from all parts of the world. While accurate figures are difficult to come by, given the obvious sensitivities of governments admitting to such demographic breakdowns, it is still possible to make useful generalisations. Most of the region’s unskilled labour force (usually housed in worker camps outside the main cities) is made up of South or East Asians, while most of the retail and service sectors are made up of South Asians, or non-Gulf Arabs. Westerners, Australians, and South Africans, along with educated non-Gulf Arabs make up a significant proportion of the region’s professional class and white collar private sector workforce.
In Saudi Arabia there are now nearly eight million expatriates — nearly a quarter of the total population.[255] In the more resource-scarce Oman, where there are fewer economic opportunities, there are unsurprisingly fewer expatriates. Nevertheless, as of 2011 there were still more than 600,000 foreigners living there, accounting for 17 per cent of the total population.[256] Meanwhile in Bahrain about 550,000 or nearly half of the island’s population were thought to be expatriates — at least before the 2011 uprisings began.[257] The most dramatic examples are, however, in the more resource-rich small monarchies. In Kuwait, over 1.1 million expatriates account for nearly 70 per cent of the total population,[258] while in the UAE expatriates now seem to make up 90 per cent of population.[259] The latter figure is based on official UAE government data claiming that the total population has risen to 9 million[260]—this has been widely disputed and can be put down to the UAE’s historic rivalry with the much larger Saudi Arabia. Qatar, now the fastest growing Gulf economy with the smallest number of citizens — only 290,000—will soon catch up with the UAE. Already the population comprises 80 per cent expatriates, and with a staggering annual population growth rate of nearly 60 per cent their proportion will increase dramatically.[261]
The presence of substantial expatriate populations has profound socioeconomic consequences but in terms of political stability they may have greatly contributed to the survival of the Gulf monarchies. Most expatriates in the region are there to make money and eventually return to their home countries relatively better off. Indeed, most only stay in these states for two to five years, with very few regarding their host country as a real home or a retirement destination. In this regard they differ greatly from immigrants who arrive in ‘melting pot’ countries such as the US, Canada, and Australia — many of whom intend to spend their whole lives there and help shape their adopted nations. Gulf expatriates are thus better viewed as strictly temporary economic migrants. Although not entitled to the full benefits of the rentier state, they nevertheless enjoy a tax free salary which is usually better than that they could expect in their country of origin. Often they have no real interest in the politics of their host country, and certainly never revolutionary politics. In many ways they become a loyal, silent support base for the ruling families, as the latter usually portray themselves as the guardians of stable, fairly apolitical states where money can be made safely and smoothly. The Al-Maktoum ruling family of Dubai perhaps provide the best example of this. Styling his make-shift government as ‘Dubai Inc’., the ruler’s aim has been to portray himself as the chief executive officer of a corporation, rather than as an autocrat presiding over an unelected government. As the emirate’s indigenous population has continued to shrink, relative to the influx of hundreds of thousands of expatriates each year, the government has regularly announced new initiatives to hold the situation in check. But in many ways it has suited the ruler’s interests well — even if it has alarmed the citizenry — to govern over a city made up of temporary migrants.