Reporting & Essays
Book Excerpt
Guests in their Own Homes
By SYED ALI
1 December 2010
CARAVAN
http://www.caravanmagazine.in/Story.aspx?Storyid=646&StoryStyle=FullStory
MY FRIEND WILBUR had come from
Legally, as a distinct category, second-generation expatriates do not exist. Like any other expatriate, they are in
To reinforce reinforce to expatriates how tenuous their status in Dubai is, the visa and work permit systems in Dubai, indeed in all the Gulf states, do not recognize the bonds of adult male children to their parents (women can stay on a parent's or husband's visa without having to get a labour permit binding them to their employer). What this means is that a boy who turns eighteen is no longer on his parent's visa; he can be sponsored by a school, but otherwise needs to be working and on a labour permit. The legal and social limbo that second-generation expatriates in Dubai find themselves in is an unintended consequence of the 'original sin' of their expatriate fathers and mothers, who nearly all came for better working conditions and family living, only to raise children who do not belong in Dubai, who cannot claim to be of Dubai, and yet are socially foreigners in their countries of passport.
The Possibility Of Citizenship
TO FULLY UNDERSTAND the precarious situation of expatriates in
Citizenship, when granted, is qualified. Naturalized citizens do not automatically become nationals – they generally do not possess nationality cards that are given to Arab families, and thus are not eligible for government benefits such as free education, land grants, housing, direct cash payments and other welfare benefits, though they do acquire UAE passports. Naturalization is contingent, and can be revoked, as can UAE passports (as one Jordanian expatriate told me how her aunt's was confiscated).The requirements to be considered for citizenship are often thought to include thirty years' residence, being Muslim, Arab and an Arabic speaker, and having a clean police record, 'proper' academic qualifications and a 'healthy' bank balance – though it is at the government's discretion to give citizenship after a screening process, at which point personal influence (wasta) comes into play.
While most expatriates I asked told me some version of the above, it is unclear whether this procedure is actually codified. Even government officials seem uncertain of the policy regarding naturalization. For example, in 2005 the director of the Dubai Naturalisation and Residency Department (DNRD) announced that expatriates of any nationality living in Dubai for twenty years would be eligible to apply for passports, and, if granted, would be issued a document that would allow them to be treated as UAE nationals.3 The following day, the director retracted his statement, tersely saying about the issuance of passports, 'such matters are beyond the purview of the DNRD'. One month later, the UAE Minister of Labour and Social Affairs proposed granting UAE citizenship to expatriates of 'high calibre' and 'highly skilled professionals' who could be key contributors to national development. The minister was quoted as saying, 'Why don't we avail [ourselves] of highly skilled professionals for our economy needs.We should attract them and even grant them nationality to benefit from their high qualifications.' But in late 2007 the same minister ruled out any possibility of expatriates being awarded citizenship, no matter how long they have been in the UAE. Again, expatriates in the UAE are considered contractual workers, not immigrants. The minister's adviser emphasized this point, saying, 'That is the whole reason contractual labour laws are used, so workers fall under contractual law rather than immigration law.'
While I was in
Hasan told me that, if he had not received citizenship, 'I think I would've moved. In fact, I actually immigrated to
While there are no publicly available records, it is unlikely that many who are eligible to be considered for citizenship get it. For Hasan, wasta (influence) eventually led to the family acquiring citizenship. Even with wasta, it takes time – his father lobbied his connections for nearly ten years. Others though, while 'qualified', are not so fortunate. I interviewed two Arab expatriates in their mid-twenties whose fathers had both worked in government ministries for almost thirty years. These two, Zaid (a Syrian) and Hussein (an Egyptian), also work in government ministries, though at low-level positions as clerks (neither has a university degree). Both their families have had their applications for citizenship under consideration for twenty years. They both held faint hope that they would acquire citizenship anytime soon, something they both desperately wanted.
The most commonly stated reasons given by government officials for denying citizenship, or even permanent residence, are the threats of cultural extinction and demographic imbalance posed by the possibility of absorbing so many expatriates into the pool of citizens. These twinned arguments have been repeatedly advanced over the years as the main reasons to deny expatriates any kind of permanent residency. However, there are two major factors that are critical to the government's stance on naturalization which are left unstated, but which are central to the management of expatriates in
For the vast majority of second-generation expatriates I interviewed, citizenship is a non-issue. They accept, however grudgingly, their second-class status in
Fear of Banishment
AS A MEANS OF SOCIAL CONTROL, the three-year visa system works effectively through the possibility that the visa may be revoked. There are two main fears that all expatriates must at some level consider: being summarily deported, and not being allowed to remain in
The one reality all expatriates must face is compulsory retirement at age sixty. When an expatriate reaches this age, he is no longer issued a three-year work permit and residency visa. He can apply for a shorter one- or two-year visa, but these are issued on a case-by-case basis, or he can stay if he owns a company. This restriction on the issuance of visas past the age of sixty necessarily affects how people see their relation to
While the possibility of not having their visas renewed past the age of sixty is not immediately pressing for the second-generation expatriates themselves, as the oldest person I interviewed was thirty-seven, it was pertinent for their parents. A few of the parents of people I interviewed had already gone back to their home countries, and a few more had migrated to Western countries permanently. Others were reaching the point where they had to decide in a short time where they wanted to go. Still others were able to postpone this decision indefinitely as they were investors in companies, and eligible to stay in
The possibility they one day might be made to leave
I don't know what difference it's going to make in your day to day life, you know? Even permanent residency can be . . . I mean this is not a democracy . . . what difference is that going to make? While many people expressed nonchalant views similar to Manoj, others were more apprehensive about the possibility of deportation. For example, Prince, an Indian corporate headhunter in his early twenties, said he doesn't live in
The reality of deportation in
Whether or not these expatriates feared deportation, they were quite cognizant that the laws are often applied in an ad hoc manner, not surprising given that the UAE is a kingdom, a young country, and has a still developing legal system. This works to create carefully managed attitudes towards impermanence in the minds of workers. They are always mindful of what they say; this is especially true for expatriates from developing countries.
Relations With Nationals
I WENT TO AN IRANIAN RESTAURANT on the busy main street in Satwa at three in the morning with my friend Thomas, as we were unable to find anywhere to smoke sheesha at that hour. He ordered for us and had a long conversation with the waiter, who was a bit thrown that he was not a national, and was impressed with how he spoke Arabic with an Emirati accent. I was impressed that Thomas spoke Arabic at all as he was the only second generation non-Arab expatriate I had met who had any competency with the Arabic language.
Thomas is an Indian Catholic in his early thirties, and has had experiences with nationals that were unique for any expatriate, especially an Indian, and are worth recounting in detail:
I assimilated into the [Emirati] Arab culture when I was twelve. My best friends were my Arab friends. For two years, I only hung out with Arabs. I wore Arab clothing, I would go to Arab functions, I would celebrate all the Arab holidays. I would spend weekends at my Arab friends' houses, I would eat with their parents . . . I flew falcons in the desert, I went hunting – these are things that very few people outside the Arab community could or would have ever done . .
. The reason why [many people think nationals are] not cultured is that they've never been invited inside the Arab community. And that was just a stroke of luck. Typically I wouldn't have been either. Just because I moved to Jumeirah [in the 1980s] and hung out with Arab guys who I became friends with, who were like, 'Come over, play board games with me.' Slowly you eat lunch with them, slowly you go away for a picnic with the family one weekend, you know. Before you know it, you're in. And that's where the culture is. People think that when they come to
When talking of assimilation, or in this case, non-assimilation, we must define our reference point – to what culture/people might these immigrants be assimilating?
This 'siege mentality' of nationals has heightened as a result of the post-2001 economic and population boom in
Even running around in the desert near our places we used to hang out with the local kids. But now if you hang out with local people it's probably business . . . Back in those days, there were loads of tents everywhere; they'd just welcome you. 'Come in, sit down.' All the locals offered you food, so welcoming. That doesn't really exist anymore, because there's so many expatriates out here, they [nationals] have started to shut themselves off. So that culture existed back then, it was great, it was really nice.
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