John Rapley

ABU DHABI, United Arab Emirates:

Imagine a small village of palm-frond huts encircling a desert fortress. Then, imagine a large city of luxury hotels and futuristic skyscrapers amid green gardens. Do that, and in a nutshell, you have the past and present of Abu Dhabi. And the change from one to the other happened in just half a century.

It all began when, in the 1950s, this small kingdom discovered it was sitting atop one of the world's largest oil fields. An impoverished country whose small income from pearl fishing had been devastated by the invention of cultured pearls, it would experience a dramatic turnaround in its fortunes. After the British withdrew from the Persian Gulf, Abu Dhabi then federated with its six smaller neighbours to form the United Arab Emirates. Abu Dhabi, as the largest of the seven, became the natural heir to the presidency of the UAE, and provided its capital.

That did not win it the status of commercial and cultural centre, a title that probably belongs to Dubai, an hour or so down the road. Dubai's ambitions of turning itself into a world city have been helped along by its hugely successful airline, which has exploited the country's strategic location as a hub between Europe and Asia. More recently, Dubai has been putting on art and music festivals that have drawn visitors from around the world.

Little inclination

Abu Dhabi seemed content to remain the Washington to Dubai's New York. Meanwhile, its rapid modernisation did not extend to all spheres of life. The emirs have shown little inclination to relinquish any of their powers, and the oil kingdoms continue to be run like family operations.

At one time, it was popular to exoticise the Gulf states, depicting them as tradition-bound lands immune to democracy. More recently, this 'orientalism' gave way to the political-economic theory of the 'rentier state.' The emirs do not perpetuate their rule through brutal repression. By and large, patriarchal though they may be, the emirs are benevolent despots. It's just that there's little in the way of a democratic opposition.

Theorists of the rentier state attribute this to the oil wealth of the Persian Gulf. Because oil kingdoms can live off royalties, there is no need for them to tax their citizens. Not only can they deliver generous social benefits to their people, but their citizens supposedly feel none of the desires that surfaced in other countries when, historically, rising taxes led them to demand a say in how their money was spent.

Of course, being filthy rich in oil is no guarantee a government can placate its people. Nigeria's contested election this past week offers a counterpoint, showing that wealth can be a curse as much as a blessing. Faced with western calls for democratisation, the emirs demand that they be allowed to move at their own pace.

For now, they seem to be pulling it off, building a modern, relatively tolerant city atop a traditional society. Maybe it can last, maybe not. As Saudi Arabia's effort to maintain a traditional kingdom atop oil wealth reveals, the greatest threat to a rentier state may lie not in a democratic opposition, but in the anomie of disfranchised youth who feel little sense of attachment to the kingdom.

Perhaps what will save the emirs is the small size of their kingdoms. Absolute monarchies have tended to last longer in small states in which personalised forms of rule can be extended to all citizens. Still, the contrast between a modern facade and the traditional underpinning here can be as stark as the move from air-conditioned offices to the stifling desert heat.