No physical space represents the Gulf present better than the stadiums Qatar has built for the 2022 FIFA world cup. The moral, economic, and ecological stakes are best explored through the experience of being in these stadiums and the knowledge of exploitation that has gone into building them. The petromodernity in Qatar, the push toward turning the state into a tourist destination, and the desire to prove that it is just as modern due to the colonial legacy of standardizing Western modernity all work together to create an outward state identity that is far removed from the internal experience within the country.
The exploitation of migrant workers is covered up by claims of progress and reforms for migrant workers becoming subsumed as part of Qatar’s identity, particularly in comparison to other Gulf states such as Saudi Arabia or the United Arab Emirates. The outward identity of the state becomes a trailblazer for human rights in the region while the internal experience of migrant workers, especially domestic workers, mostly remains the same because these legal reforms do not always translate into socio-cultural reforms. Racism against South Asians remains as rampant as ever. Those who work hardest to build homes and the infrastructure that enables the state to achieve this elevation are furthest removed from the fruits of this labor, “yet the idea that the living standards thus achieved in the industrialized world represent the future of humanity—rather than the luxuriating tip of a global pyramid of exploitation—was never more than a pleasant conceit.” (Bergthaller, 429) Because this socio-cultural shift is something you can opt-in and opt-out of, there is a gap between the external “progress” and the internal stagnancy. There is a complete absence of this exploitation in the outward experience of being in stadiums, but once you know about the exploitation, it becomes ubiquitous and you see it everywhere.
In the aspiration to “modernize”, urban life in Doha is modeled after Western cities, as seen in the evolution of the Doha skyline, and has gone miles ahead of some standards of luxury and comfort. This outward display of excess and exorbitant luxury is at odds with the Vision 2030 of Qatar, and this increasingly worsens as “it must be remembered that these countries still have an unsustainably large ecological footprint, and that there is little indication that their citizenry would accept a significant reduction of its high living standards in order to limit CO2 emissions.” (Bergthaller, 430) Because ecological consciousness is something you can opt-in and opt-out of, and there is a greater incentive to avoid it entirely, the gap between the current carbon emissions of Qatari citizens and the proposed goal to cut down carbon emissions increasingly widens. In contrast to exploitation of migrant workers, this dichotomy is the most obvious feature of the stadiums. That they are air-conditioned for comfort unlike most stadiums across the world tells us of the comfort the audience demands and simultaneously exposes the immensity of resource exploitation.
In fact, taking a more radical approach, most environmental activists would say that the world cup itself is at odds with the greater global goal of reducing emissions, especially as it is estimated to generate 3.6 million tons of carbon dioxide. This is not specific to Qatar, but rather a criticism of sporting events of this magnitude as a whole.
This gulf present leads us into speculation about gulf-futurism.
