After the Sheikhs

by Davidson, Christopher

  Discrimination, statelessness, and sectarianism

  A similarly under-reported problem affecting the indigenous or de facto indigenous populations of many Gulf monarchies has been the ongoing discrimination—in some cases state-sanctioned—against various minorities. In particular, there has been a continuing failure to address the issue of statelessness, with large numbers—perhaps now hundreds of thousands—of bidoon jinsiyya or people ‘without nationality’, whose families have lived in the region for many generations, but who have, for a variety of reasons, failed to secure sufficient documentation to acquire full citizenship. There is also a worrying trend in some of the Gulf monarchies of bias and intolerance—including sectarian violence—from predominantly Sunni political and business elites against indigenous Shia populations. This has undoubtedly been exacerbated in recent years and, as later sections of this book will demonstrate, has now become a key flashpoint for opposition in the region in the wake of the 2011 Arab Spring. Both these phenomena are undermining the ruling families’ legitimacy, especially as divisions within national populations have not been bridged, resentment has been allowed to build, and—more subtly—increasing stratification within supposedly equitable societies has either gone unchecked or even been encouraged.

  With regard to statelessness, Kuwait is by far the worst offender—at least in proportion to its total population—with some 106,000 bidoon now living in the emirate.108 The majority are classed by the government as ‘illegal residents’ and the issue is dealt with by the Ministry for Interior, indicating its treatment as a matter of security,109 but in practice the bidoon are best viewed as second class citizens who are unable to access the benefits of the state. Many of Kuwait’s bidoon claim they are indigenous, but missed out on full citizenship because their parents did not complete the necessary registration papers with the government after the country’s independence in 1961. This was mostly due to illiteracy, or a lack of understanding of how significant citizenship papers were going to become. For most of the 1960s and 1970s the bidoon had access to the welfare state and its benefits in the same way as regular citizens, although they were not eligible to vote in Kuwait’s parliamentary elections.110 Causing much resentment during this period, however, a Saudi tribe111 was granted full Kuwaiti citizenship—an attempt by a prominent member of the ruling family (and the present day chief of the National Guard) to boost his support base.112 Following a period of instability in the 1980s—which led to increased xenophobia and a government-perpetuated belief that the bidoon were originally from neighbouring countries such as Iraq and had deliberately destroyed their documents in the hope of becoming Kuwaiti—their situation worsened considerably.113

  In particular they have faced great difficulties in acquiring official documentation such as birth and marriage certificates, driving licences, and passports. As a result many have never been able to access free government schooling,114 have failed to secure government housing, and are thus obliged to pay rent on property in much the same way as expatriates. Moreover, most also fail to secure public sector employment and thus have much lower salaries, on average, than the poorest ‘full’ Kuwaiti citizens. According to a recent BBC report many of the bidoon only earn a few hundred dollars per month.115 A number do, however, seem to acquire employment in the police or the security services, likely because unswerving loyalty in these jobs is highly valued by the state and has been set up as one possible route to naturalisation.

  In 2011, the plight of the Kuwaiti bidoon seemed little better, with a Human Rights Watch report arguing that ‘For 50 years, Kuwait has dawdled in reviewing bidoon citizenship claims, while creating a straightjacket of regulations that leave them in poverty and extreme uncertainty’. Moreover, it claimed that ‘Kuwait has every resource it needs to solve this problem, but chooses to stall instead’.116 Similarly, prominent journalists in the region have recently concluded that the bidoon have ‘… been dehumanised and rendered invisible by government policies coupled with pervasive social stigmatisation’.117 Notably, the government’s new Central System for Resolving Illegal Residents’ Status—known colloquially as the ‘Bidoon Committee’ seems to have made little progress. While it has recently issued ration cards to bidoon, allowing them to receive subsidised foodstuffs via government-run cooperatives, the committee more importantly continues to reject applications for birth, marriage, and death certificates, and thus continues to prevent the bidoon from establishing any form of legal relationships in Kuwait. Moreover, according to Human Rights Watch it still regularly claims to have evidence of the bidoon’s ‘true nationalities’, although bidoon applicants have not been allowed to see this.118 In late 2010 officials even publicly claimed that at least 42,000 bidoon in Kuwait were really Iraqi citizens and suggested that ‘[Kuwait] has possession of documents that prove their affiliation to other Arab countries, so diplomatic measures need to be taken’.119

  In February and March 2011 over one thousand bidoon reportedly took to the streets to demand better rights. Although there has since been a more broad-based Kuwaiti movement which, as discussed later in this book, opposes the current government and members of the ruling family, the bidoon protests can nonetheless still be viewed as an early Arab Spring protest. A group representing the bidoon—the Kuwaiti Bidoon Gathering—was formed, with its representatives stating that ‘… the most important right that we are asking for, and this is non-negotiable, is the right for a Kuwaiti citizenship’ and arguing that ‘…there are some basic human rights, like the right for healthcare, the right to work, the right to mobilise, the right to have identity papers, the right for education and travel’. Moreover, claiming that ‘…these are the normal and basic rights for any regular human being living anywhere’ the group has stated that its first protests were the result of ‘…the events in the Middle East inspired the young bidoon to go out and ask for their rights—the rights that were taken away from them’.120 Interestingly, at the rallies the protestors were sighted carrying flags with swastika symbols and slogans that complained of the fascist nature of the Bidoon Committee. With the security services responding to the protests with water cannon, teargas, smoke bombs, and concussion grenades, and with dozens reportedly injured and large numbers held in custody, the situation seems likely to deteriorate further.121 Indeed, the Kuwait Bidoon Gathering has hinted that the situation in Kuwait is now a ‘ticking time bomb’ and that ‘the bomb hasn’t burst yet and these are only sparks before the big explosion’.122

  Although having received far less attention than in Kuwait, the bidoon issue is becoming increasingly significant in the UAE, where there are believed to be between 10,000 and 100,000 stateless persons, with some even living in the wealthier emirates of Abu Dhabi and Dubai. Much like in Kuwait, they have been unable to obtain key documentation or access most benefits of the welfare state. In particular they lack the vital ‘family card’ or khulsat al-qaid, which is required to prove one’s lineage. At best they have only been able to receive temporary passports—thus excluding them from employment in the public sector. Moreover, they are often publicly discriminated against and—to a great extent—stigmatised by the government. In April 2011, when—as described later—six pro-democracy activists were arrested, the UAE’s state-backed news agency kept referring in all press releases to one of their number as being a ‘person without valid documentation’. This gave the impression that he was somehow of dubious character in addition to not being a bona fide UAE national.

  In an extensive report by the UAE-based Arabian Business magazine in 2009 a number of UAE bidoon were interviewed—a rare occurrence and a voice not usually heard in the country. One female interviewee claimed that she was just one of thousands living in difficult conditions, explaining that ‘when you are a bidoon you cannot do so many things. You are not expatriate or a local; you are in-between’. Although she admitted that her family were originally from Iran, she explained that they had arrived in the country—then the Trucial States—back in 1953 and had re
ceived Sharjah passports. However, after the UAE’s independence in 1971 they were only given temporary passports which were renewed every six months until 1982 when their application was denied. Many other UAE bidoon claim descent from local tribes and can trace their lineage back several generations. Indeed, the report claimed that ‘according to anecdotal evidence, nearly 50 per cent of the [UAE] bidoon’s fathers were born in the Gulf monarchies while around 30 per cent of their grandfathers were born in the region… [but] today they find themselves in no man’s land’. Speaking of this diversity, a spokesperson for Refugees International explained that ‘[a UAE bidoon] could be someone who finds themselves in that situation for a number of reasons; their family may have lived historically in the country, but for some reason was not documented or chose not to be documented at the time; it could be someone who entered the country seeking asylum… there is no one stereotypical situation; it really is a diversified community of individuals’.123 Recent research has also demonstrated that some of the UAE bidoon often move back and forth between being citizens or not, with temporary passports seemingly being dispensed and then revoked at whim. Described as a ‘liminal population’ that is politically managed depending on the government’s priorities of the day, these more fortunate bidoon are still left unable to plan for any kind of future.124 Nevertheless, regardless of their precise backgrounds or their exact passport status, all of the UAE’s current bidoon firmly claim to be Emirati, with most alluding to the fact that they, their parents, and their grandparents have never known life in another country. One interviewee simply stated ‘…my life is here; all of my close friends are Emiratis. I know more about the UAE than I know about Iran. It would be impossible for me to live anywhere else’.125

  The issue seems to be being dealt with in more or less the same way as in Kuwait, with the government forming committees, but then being slow to act. In 2008, following the setting up of several bidoon registration centres, about 1300 bidoon were naturalised, but only because they were somehow able to prove their pre-1971 ancestry.126 As reported by a state-backed newspaper, many of those queuing at the centres were in a highly emotional state, being conscious of the decades-long wait their families had suffered. As one hopeful bidoon described of the process: ‘this will change everything for us and for our children… becoming Emirati will be like being born again’.127 Another stated that ‘I will carry the country’s emblem on my head and my love for it in my heart’. Significantly, after this small number of naturalisations the minister for the interior was quick to underline the fact that citizenship in the UAE is a privilege and a reward for loyalty and political acquiescence, rather than a right. Specifically, he warned that ‘loyalty is a condition of citizenship and new citizens are expected to embrace the values that have ensured social stability and security for all. The constitution allows for revoking citizenship from anyone who does not deserve it’. When a newly naturalised citizen was asked for his thoughts on this message, he stated simply that ‘those who drink from a well would never throw dirt in it’.128

  Since then, there have been no tangible improvements, with government officials and other pro-government spokespersons usually highlighting the potential disloyalty and reliability of bidoon given their uncertain pasts. The director of the immigration and naturalisation department in Abu Dhabi, for example, not only claimed that the main problem was that bidoon were registering under different names because they treated citizenship as a ‘lottery’, but also echoed the arguments of Kuwaiti officials, explaining in 2009 that ‘…the vast majority of those who claim to be bidoon are in fact illegal immigrants… who have destroyed documents from their home country in a bid to be granted UAE nationality… there are some who are real bidoon, but unfortunately they get mixed up with the vast majority who claim to be bidoon’. Similarly, a UAE national academic argued that ‘…many of these people came here in the 1980s and destroyed their documents to stay in the Emirates [because] they don’t want to leave the country. They came to the country for political reasons and many came into the country illegally’.129 Furthermore, the government remains committed to using the threat of revoking citizenship as a means to ensure acquiescence. As discussed later in this book, in December 2011 seven activists promoting an Islamist agenda were stripped of their passports and thus relegated to being bidoon.

  Other significant stateless populations are believed to exist in Saudi Arabia, where there are an unknown number of bidoon. These also appear to be subjected to widespread discrimination, especially in legal cases, with frequent reports of government officials or other spokespersons claiming they have no rights. In December 2011, for example, six stateless persons who were sentenced to hand and foot amputations after having signed coerced confessions to a crime of armed robbery, were told by prison staff that as bidoon they had no rights.130 In Bahrain there are thought to still be several thousand bidoon. Although the Bahraini government did naturalise a few thousand Iranian-origin bidoon in 2001, following on from the aforementioned national action charter, the state has, like the UAE, recently demonstrated its willingness to revoke citizenship and return residents to bidoon status if necessary. In 2010 a prominent cleric and former bidoon who has criticised the government was promptly stripped of his passport on the grounds that he and his family had ‘not obtained citizenship via legal means’ back in 2001.131 This was a clear warning to other former bidoon.

  Discrimination against Shia communities in the Gulf monarchies is now as commonplace as that against stateless persons. The worst example has always been in Bahrain, where historically the Shia have formed the majority of the indigenous population yet—in a dynamic not dissimilar from Saddam Hussein’s Iraq—for much of the modern period they have been ruled by a Sunni minority, since the described ascendancy of the Bani Utub clan and eventually the Al-Khalifa family. Sporadic protests and insurgencies by the Shia in the early and mid-twentieth century—notably a 1920 petition to Britain that they were facing mistreatment from the ruling family and a 1956 general strike—were put down with force, often on the grounds that the Shia were in effect a fifth column of the Shah’s Iran. Indeed, in 1957 Iran’s parliament had passed a bill declaring Bahrain to be Iran’s 14th province, although this claim was later dropped following a United Nations’ administered opinion poll of Bahrain’s residents in which the overwhelming majority voted to remain independent. But later in the twentieth century, especially following the 1979 Islamic Revolution in Iran and the Al-Khalifa’s claims in 1981 that they had uncovered a pro-Iran plot,132 the persecution of Bahrain’s Shia increased. The resulting tensions, along with a widespread belief that Shia were being discriminated against in terms of employment opportunities and state benefits, eventually led to a full scale intifada in the 1990s which claimed the lives of over forty protestors and led to the jailing and exiling of several major opposition figures. Moreover, in 1996 the government claimed to have uncovered a fresh Shia plot, this time by an Iran-backed offshoot of Hezbollah in Bahrain.133 By the end of the intifada and the launch of the aforementioned 2001 national action charter, approximately 70 to 75 per cent of Bahrain’s national population were still believed to be Shia—mostly indigenous Shia Arabs134 or ethnically Persian Arabs who had long been settled on the island.135 Since then it is believed that the proportion of Sunni Bahraini citizens has increased, mostly due to government manipulations and ‘demographic engineering’. In particular, the government is believed to have been offering citizenship to non-indigenous Sunni Arab and African families in an effort to boost the Sunni contingent of the national population and thus limit the influence of the Shia.

  In 2006 details of the policy unexpectedly came into the public domain following the publication of a lengthy report by Salah Al-Bandar—a British citizen of Sudanese origin who had been working for Bahrain’s Ministry for Cabinet Affairs. The report—now dubbed Bandargate—claimed to have uncovered a secret plot by a group within the government to ‘deprive an essential part of the population [the Shia] o
f their rights’.136 Moreover, it inferred that the group was trying to turn the Shia into a minority within just a few years and was busy working on ways to gerrymander electoral constituencies so as to reduce the clout of Shia members of parliament. Although Al-Bandar was promptly deported and the state-backed media was banned from reporting on the story, a protest was held demanding a thorough investigation.137 In 2008, following the publication of official figures indicating that Bahrain’s total population had increased by more than 40 per cent between 2002 and 2007, tensions increased further, as it was deemed unlikely that all of the increase was due to expatriates or the naturalisation of stateless persons. Analysts have claimed that the natural rate of growth for the national population would have only yielded an increase of 47,000 persons, thus more than 72,000 were probably granted citizenship during this period.138 Indeed, in summer 2010 opposition groups in Bahrain estimated that between 65,000 and 100,000 Sunni nationals have been added to the country’s voter rolls in the last decade. Most of the newcomers139 seem to be housed in brand new villages in Bahrain’s hinterland, suitably distanced from the older, predominantly Shia villagers. Many seem to work for the state security services, the police, or the royal court, likely due to their unswerving loyalty to the Sunni elites. Interviewed by the New York Times in summer 2010, a resident of one such village—a settlement specifically for Sunnis employed in the security sector—stated that he and his two brothers worked for the police and that ‘…if the Shia took control of the country, they would pop out one eye of every Sunni in the country’.140