I recently spent a couple of days in Abu Dhabi, which is – according to Fortune magazine and CNN – the richest city in the world. The source of their riches is no secret: the place pumps 2.3 million barrels of oil a day and has estimated remaining reserves of about 100bn barrels. One hundred billion barrels. That’s a lot of barrels.
Sadly for thrill-seekers, unlike other resource-rich places, Abu Dhabi is being pretty sensible and responsible about its immense wealth. To put it another way, there are no dictators looting the treasury and sticking the proceeds in a Swiss bank (or at least not on a noticeable scale). Instead, they have set up a number of investment companies to manage the country’s money, all doing different things but with a common goal of preserving the wealth for future generations and making sure the country is ready for when the oil runs out (at current rates, that will be in about 120 years’ time, assuming they don’t find any more).
They are investing locally in manufacturing and high tech businesses, universities and culture (the Sorbonne, the Guggenheim and the Louvre all have "branches" there) plus infrastructure and (inevitably) real estate. The roads are wide, the city is immaculate, everything works and everything is very convenient.
This goes double if you have connections (or in my case, if your employer does). I flew in with a colleague who comes from India and so needed a special visa. The bank sent a Chinese girl to meet us off the plane, who walked us to the front of the immigration queue so my colleague could sort out his visa, and then took us to the front of the passport queue. As our bags had beaten us to the luggage belt, it took us less than 10 minutes to get from the plane to the airport exit. Our car was waiting right outside the door.
I was just beginning to think I might like the place. Then I stepped outside. I was kind of prepared for the heat – at 7.30pm it was 105F – but not for the humidity. All of a sudden I could neither breathe nor see. My glasses had steamed up instantly, and I felt like I was inhaling soup. Even my Indian colleague, who grew up Pune, reeled. Getting into the car (a stretch Audi A8) was like coming up for air.
But even with all this expenditure on local infrastructure, air-conditioning and personal servants, the local economy will never be able to absorb the wealth they are creating. The biggest of their investment vehicles, ADIA, has assets estimated at almost a trillion dollars, and there is a host of others (Mubadala, IPIC, Aabar, the “Council”, etc., etc.) Those 2.3 million barrels they pump add a couple of hundred million more to the pile every single day. And while the population looks small, at under 900,000, it should be remembered that most of these are temporary: only about a quarter of a million of them are citizens. So they are making oil revenues equal to about a thousand dollars a day for every man, woman and child. And all of it is being spent or invested for the benefit of the population.
Despite their immense wealth, things are fairly understated, certainly by the standards of (say) Dubai. They like their cars, but go for luxury and comfort over flash. I saw a lot of Cayennes and Panameras, Jaguars and Land Rovers and many a big Mercedes and Lexus but only saw two Ferraris (both parked outside the Emirates Palace – see below). One evening, a nondescript, grey Mercedes C-class pulled up alongside us at the lights. I looked at it for several seconds before I realized it had the 6.3 litre Brabus-tuned engine. As the receptionist at our first appointment pointed down the hall to show us the way to the meeting, the long, wide sleeve of her jilbab slid down her arm to reveal a Rolex which . . . . well, let’s just say I finally know the meaning of the phrase “diamond-encrusted”. It’s like the money is always there, but just out of sight (most of the time).
True, the restraint only goes so far. In true chip-on-shoulder emerging market style they have built an immense hotel in the centre of town at astonishing expense, namely, the Emirates Palace (it cost about $3bn). However, even this is relatively understated. Rather than the crude bling of similar places – I’m thinking of, for example, the Crown Casino in Melbourne, which looks like a spaceship that has crashed into the interior décor department of Harrods – there is a shortage of metal surfaces that have been polished to look like gold. This is because every surface that isn’t marble is not polished to look like gold: instead, it is in fact gold. The whole place has a strange soft glow about it.
There are other downsides besides the heat and humidity. Alcohol is banned, gambling is banned, pornography is banned and pork is banned. In other words, 100% of my lifestyle is illegal. Actually you can drink in certain designated places (hotels mainly), but even there moderation is advised. Rolling around drunk would be a very good way to get in trouble with the authorities, which in turn – depending who you believe – can be a very good way to get yourself tortured and deported. Drinking and driving is a similar no-no, though my colleagues are protected from this possibility by having a personal driver laid on at the expense of the bank.
So, in a nutshell, if you want to understand what it is like being an Abu Dhabi citizen, imagine living in a country where you win the lottery every year, but as a trade off you have to live in an oven at Gas Mark 6. But you can forget it if you are a gambler, a drinker, a skirt-chaser, or for that matter a Jew (pork or no pork).
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