Despite daily drone assaults, the UAE keeps its business buzz
The week started with a quick dash to the UAE for a few meetings and briefings, a bit of scouting for some projects and 48 hours of intense observation and analysis of life on the ground. Before departing, more than a few friends and associates asked, “How are you getting there? Isn’t everything still closed?” I quickly informed them that airline timetables were ticking upwards both in and out of Abu Dhabi and Dubai, and that for the return leg to Lisbon I was even waitlisted.
On Sunday evening I boarded an Etihad Boeing 787-9 out of Zürich and before the doors closed I did a tour down the aisles and determined that the plane was operating with a load factor of about 80 per cent. Not bad considering that you can fly direct to a broad range of Asian destinations from Zürich (and needn’t fly via the Gulf). But this was a little reminder of the power of strong brands and relentless marketing as many travellers in Europe, Asia and Australia feel that a stop in Doha, Dubai or Abu Dhabi is somehow a logistical necessity.
Flight EY144 started its descent towards UAE airspace about five hours after departure and as I tracked our progress on Flightradar a curious, rather alarming thing happened – our 787-9 entered into a series of stomach-churning spins. Thankfully this was only on screen, onboard all was stable with our aircraft as it made a few graceful turns on its approach to AUH. Back in the app, UAE airspace was clearly being digitally manipulated as groups of commercial aircraft were clustered near Al Ain, flightpaths were zig-zagging across Saudi Arabia and aircraft (including my own) would disappear and then reappear as they approached Abu Dhabi. The atmosphere inside the airport felt the same as it did a few weeks back, just before Iran started sending cruise missiles and drones across the Gulf. Plenty of passengers were connecting to points in Thailand and Indonesia, and there was a steady stream of labourers from Pakistan and defence contractor types from the US and Europe lined up at immigration.
For the past three decades this journalism gig has seen me dip in and out of war zones (Lebanon, Afghanistan, Sierra Leone), spend considerable time around weapon systems and heavily armed commandos, interview PR-savvy rebels and buttoned-up public affairs officers, crawl through blown-up buildings and charred tanks, and have ugly entry and exit wounds in my left and right arms from an ambush in Kabul. I know how zones of conflict look, smell, sound and, most importantly, feel. Quite often it’s remarkable how normal it all is. As I pulled off the highway onto the perfectly groomed Saadiyat Island and arrived at the hotel, I was immersed in a hyper version of normal. I met my London and Zürich colleagues for a little pre-meeting catch-up in the lobby before heading off in our NPO – Nissan Patrol Office, remember?
While schools are on a remote-learning footing (much to the annoyance of many locals) and hotels are running at around 20 per cent occupancy, the roads are busy, offices are full and the same goes for malls. Indeed one luxury goods retailer had a record day at its Dubai flagship last week and construction cranes working on the Grove Saadiyat retail development swing late into the night. The terraces at restaurants below were full and buzzy on a Monday eve. That same evening, the Abu Dhabi-based newspaper The National reported “UAE intercepts 11 missiles and 27 drones”. We hadn’t heard one boom or had a single phone alert all day.
Since Russia invaded Ukraine much has been written about the future of war. How drones have reshaped not only the battlefield but also air-defence requirements and the types of recruits required to man them. In the skies over the UAE and in control rooms at various ministries, another chapter is being written about how to effectively intercept Shahed drones (Apache helicopters are most effective I was told), manage (control) information flow and keep the public informed, connected and calm. “We have day and night settings for our message alerts now and they’re geo-targeted,” one minister told me. “You only receive an alert if there is an intercept in your area. The day alert is urgent and cuts through all the other noise [that] you have going on around you but at night it is more gentle to not cause undue stress. We’re working to improve the messaging further.”
Shortly after I left the meeting with the minister the day alarm sounded while I was browsing and buying at Fount, a select shop devoted to the best in local and international design. It advised to seek shelter and remain in place until all was clear. About seven minutes later another message popped up (no alarm) thanking me for my co-operation and informing me that all was clear. Upon meeting up with my colleagues a few hours later, I asked what they’d done during the alert. They hadn’t received it. Even though we were all in Abu Dhabi, the overall system proved to be pinpoint in both its targeting and narrowcasting.
When I landed in Lisbon on Wednesday I read a story on the “live” feed of an international broadcaster about a woman in Dubai who hadn’t been able to visit friends for a month because she can’t leave the house on account of all the booms and intercepts. Perhaps she lives by a missile battery, perhaps she suffers from other health issues, the report didn’t say but it did paint a rather distorted image of what daily life looks like. I went out to get a read from the street and I can assure you that the UAE is very much up and open for business.
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