Globalism in the COVID Era: Reflections on Expo 2020 Dubai
My visit to Expo 2020 Dubai, as with so many events during the Covid pandemic, did not go according to plan. Indeed, the Expo 2020 itself is a misnomer, as the pandemic delayed its opening by more than a year. I had initially intended to visit the Expo in the fall of 2020, as a crucial site for a new research project, which investigates the incorporation of classical Islamic art in the architecture of the Arabian Gulf. As a historian of medieval Islamic architecture, who once lived between Cairo and Dubai for several years, I looked forward to seeing how Dubai visually conceptualized its role in the contemporary global moment.
The Expo was a long-anticipated landmark event for the UAE. Celebrated as the first world expo to be held in the Middle East, North Africa, or South Asia, the event would situate the UAE within a long history of celebrating globalism through the spectacle of world fairs. Promotional materials for the expo traced its roots back to the London World’s Fair of 1851. Called “The Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry of All Nations,” the 1851 fair was famously held at the newly-built Crystal Palace and celebrated western, particularly British, advances in industrialization. Through the next century, world’s fairs were massively influential events and sites through which technological marvels, global connection, and western colonial power were communicated on a global stage. Although the world fairs perhaps lost some of their influence after the mid-twentieth century, they have continued to take place every five years throughout the world, with the last event having taken place in Milan in 2015.
The Emirates received the news that Dubai would be the site of Expo 2020 in November 2013. In response, the state sponsored a nationwide celebration, during which “fireworks painted the sky from the world’s tallest building, the Burj Khalifa, as thousands across the UAE celebrated.” For me, born, raised, and now living in the Midwest, the excitement over this announcement called to mind historical parallels with the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition, an event that elevated the fledgling post-fire Chicago to the pantheon of Great Cities. Dubai’s expo seemed to me a moment of similar ambition. The young UAE had been developing at warp speed since the 1970s. Similar to the World’s Columbian Exposition, Expo 2020 offered an opportunity for the upstart nation to draw attention to its cultural program and gain global legitimacy. A reported $7 billion was spent on building the Expo, with hopes that it would bring unprecedented levels of tourism, international prominence, and form the nucleus of a new city center upon its closure.
Despite the delay, the Expos’s message remained resolutely hopeful. Its overarching theme was “Connecting Minds, Creating the Future” and included sub-themes of mobility, sustainability, and opportunity. These sub-themes formed the architectural framework of the expo, with each showcased by monumental buildings, designed by Foster and Partners (Alif – the Mobility Pavilion), Grimshaw Architects (Terra – the Sustainability Pavilion), and AGi Architects (Mission Possible – Opportunity Pavilion). Each thematic structure, in turn, formed a district, around which the 192 country pavilions were arranged (Figure 1). The mapped districts of the expo most closely recalled those color-coded “lands” seen at another global spectacle – the Magic Kingdom at Orlando’s Disney World.
Individual host countries oversaw the design and display of the national pavilions, which often featured entertainment, musical events, and in some cases, even alcohol – a restricted substance outside of hotels in Dubai. Although the pandemic somewhat curtailed international travel to the Expo, global connectedness was on display in both the pavilions and the visitors to the event. Even though a larger percentage of the visitors were from the Emirates itself, the multinational makeup of Emirati society meant that a diverse population circulated consistently through the expo displays.
Advertisements for the Expo advertised it as “the world’s greatest show,” hearkening back to yet another public spectacle of a bygone era – the traveling circus. Promotional materials emphasized global exchange, connectedness, mobility, and travel, proclaiming “If travel is the best teacher in life, then just imagine who you’ll meet and what you’ll experience as you explore the world in one place.” Indeed, the expo itself acted as a visual and spatial microcosm of the world’s populations as the country pavilions were not only sponsored and designed by their respective host countries but often were staffed by nationals brought to Dubai for the event.
At odds with the official promotion of the Expo was the documentation of the Emirates’ continued abuses of the workers that built the new city. Although UAE labor law had been reformed in 2017 to offer better protection to the migrant workers who built ever-expanding construction projects of the city, human rights groups continued to criticize the UAE’s doublespeak. While the nation publicly celebrated tolerance and inclusion, it imprisoned and abused dissidents, banned free speech, and allowed rampant abuses of migrant laborer – conditions which became particularly dire during the pandemic. The pattern of worker abuse continued at the world expo, where a portion of the 40,000 construction workers hired for the event were found to face forced labor conditions, payment of illegal recruitment fees, and other abuses. It was reported that six out of two hundred thousand workers died while constructing the Expo site – three due to COVID and three from construction-related injuries, though this number may be underreported.
Although most foreign media focus on either human rights abuses or the spectacle of luxury and over-consumption in the UAE, I had been frustrated at the lack of nuance in many sources. I wanted to experience the Expo as a finished project and consider the UAE’s national narrative by doing so. However, as the Expo’s opening was pushed to October 2021, the pandemic and fears of infection and quarantine kept me from visiting until February 2022 – one month before it was scheduled to close. The pandemic radically changed not only when I experienced the expo but how I received its message. In 2019, as I had anticipated how I would discuss the event in my research, I thought about the importance of the imperfect but ultimately hopeful global vision of the Gulf. I have consistently been intrigued by the UAE as an example of what Homi Bhabha termed a “third space.” In a location in which only approximately ten percent of the population is Emirati, foreignness is the normative state of being in Dubai. Foreignness, however, is not equal in the UAE – there are overt hierarchies of nationality, class, and race within the city. Nevertheless, there is something remarkable about cultures coming together in a place where none of them *quite* belonged. The UAE also offers a rare opportunity to observe cultures co-existing, united by shared capitalistic opportunity, without an expectation of assimilation to the dominant, native culture. The Expo, then, seemed a physical expression of the Emirates’ exuberant vision of consumer capitalism, global cooperation and celebration – even as it also revealed the human cost of these systems.
As an architectural historian, I was fascinated with the pace of the Emirates’ development – watching a nation so aggressively using and experimenting with architectural projects to express ever-changing notions of the nation in real time. It was dizzying. As a scholar of Islamic art, I was also fascinated by this Middle Eastern adaptation of the World’s Fair, an architectural phenomenon we often study in the context of its Orientalizing, “othering” introduction of the Middle East to the West. I was excited to investigate what it meant for the Gulf to take ownership of the form, an act that fit well with my own investigations of what the Emirates’ cultural appropriation of western institutions (“starchitects,” the Louvre, the Guggenheim) meant for this still-very-new nation. These were my thoughts before the pandemic.
From March 2020-February 2022, like so many, I spent the majority of my time inside the walls of my home. I became a virtual hermit, living in a dystopian present, sheltered in my safe and comfortable home, but completely and obsessively following the outside world through my devices and my resolute devotion to doomscrolling. This time of reclusion recast my own thoughts regarding the contours of the world and its possibilities. With the effects of climate change, deadly pandemics facilitated by global connection, rising authoritarian nationalism, and the costs of exploitative capitalism on full display, was such a global vision of the world possible? Was it desirable? Was it responsible?
It was a relief to visit the Expo. To gather with people from around the world without worry. The Expo itself required both proof of vaccination and masks to enter and the UAE was the most highly-vaccinated nation in the world. As I explored the site, my fear of crowds and public space dissipated. I entered to see live performers, greeting eager onlookers who recorded their performances. (Video 1)
Proceeding down the main thoroughfare, I gathered with the multicultural crowd under the magnificent al-Wasl dome, experiencing shared public space for the first time in almost two years. Al-Wasl (“the connection”) was given the historic name of Dubai, a term that declared the city and the dome as a connector between east and west.[1] Designed by Adrian Smith + Gordon Gill, the dome created a microclimate that was nine degrees C lower than the surrounding spaces, offering a welcome respite from the heat of day, drawing visitors to congregate under it (Figure 2). At night, it was even more impressive, offering an immersive 360-degree projection surface, which was celebrated, like so much in the Gulf, as being the largest in the world. 250 projectors brought to life diverse, dynamic scenes – from outer space to underwater exploration - which made the dome feel like a moving space (Video 2). For the first time since the pandemic, I experienced the joy of public life, the wonder of our shared human experience, the awe of architectural ingenuity, all of which had been markedly absent in my lost pandemic years and were, after all, the reasons I became an architectural historian to begin with.
However, signs of our current pandemic state could be found throughout the expo, where it was normalized and even made fun. On one day I visited, we were greeted by traditional Emirati “stick dancers” in the Yowlah style (Video 3). However, the dancers deviated from the traditional dress in the donning of masks. Cute, friendly – but to this consumer of too much science fiction, menacing - robots greeted and followed visitors throughout the Expo, reminding them to don their masks (Figure 3) while also incorporating state-of-the-art artificial intelligence that would register breaches of social distance, or elevated body temperatures that could indicate COVID-19 infection. Oman’s pavilion (Figure 4) provided a particularly brilliant instance of making the most of the pandemic. The pavilion, which celebrated the country’s frankincense trade, greeted visitors with a steaming frankincense-scented hand sanitizer upon entry.
The country pavilions pointedly avoided politics in this particularly precarious moment. However, one could get a sense of the Gulfi order in the placement and articulation of the region’s pavilions. The UAE and Saudi Arabian pavilions were the showstoppers from the Gulf, located immediately next to the al-Wasl dome. The largest pavilion was that of the host country (15,000 sq. m.). Designed by Santiago Calatrava, the UAE pavilion was executed in a resolutely contemporary style, characterized by the smooth white surfaces, flexible forms, and moving elements that characterize the architect’s oeuvre. Although the building fits soundly within Calatrava’s corpus, elements were added to tie it to the UAE. The exterior features 28 cantilevered “feathers” meant to evoke the feathered wings of a falcon – the treasured heritage bird of the Gulf (Figure 5). The stark, futuristic whiteness of the building is tempered in the visitor’s approach to it. After the visitor moves from the reclining, traditional floor sofas of the “Majlis” waiting area, they descend a series of ramps into two rows of water channels with trees growing within them in the “Oasis,” evoking the traditional falaj system of the Emirates (Figure 6), before entering a series of immersive experiences on the history of the Emirates. Finally, the visitor emerges into a vast domed space, capped by an oculus in the shape of the expo’s logo.
Next to the UAE was the second largest pavilion (13,059 sq m) – Saudi Arabia, designed by Boris Micka Associates. The pavilion is a stunning, bold structure, which won the “best pavilion” award and broke three Guinness World Records. The exterior of the building is dominated by the “largest LED interactive digital mirror screen” which, by day, reflects the Expo itself (Figure 7) and, by night, streams breathtaking footage of Saudi Arabian landscape. Promotion of Saudi landscape and culture continues through footage in the interior and “the largest interactive water curtain,” flowing down in the day and up at night. The kingdom, which has been previously difficult for non-Muslim tourists to enter, is now pushing its new campaign to promote foreign, cultural tourism. In addition to the pavilion, Dubai itself was dotted with several massive scale billboards, advertising the natural wonders, tradition, and modernity of Saudi Arabia. Saudi Arabia’s pavilion acted in concert with this ad campaign to proclaim the wonders of this new “open” kingdom.
While Saudi and the UAE’s pavilions dominated the expo, the pavilion for Qatar, which competes with the UAE in using landmark cultural projects to stake out its place in the global order, was simple in comparison. Calatrava also designed the Qatar pavilion, but its design and construction took only five months. This hasty construction reflected the shifting political alliances of the region. From June 2017-January 2021, the UAE had joined Saudi Arabia and other Arab nations in cutting off diplomatic relations to Qatar, ostensibly due to Qatar’s support for terrorist organizations, although the actual reasons are likely far more complex. It was only after this diplomatic crisis was resolved that work began on the Qatar pavilion (Figure 9). Executed in the familiar palette and dynamic lines of Calatrava’s work, it was a smaller, sparser work featuring far simpler video displays than either of the other Gulf cultural powerhouses.
While the subtleties of Gulfi relations could be discerned in the differences in these pavilions, the most pressing conflict in the region – the devastating, seven-year war in Yemen, whose official forces are backed by Saudi and the UAE--was absent from the Yemen pavilion, which was a simple structure, highlighting handicrafts from the region and a focus on its ancient civilization. In these examples, the Expo harnessed the “soft power” of architecture to shift the public perception of geopolitical conflict and alliance, leaving the barrage of reports of international conflict at the gates. But in the marshalling of architectural form, the political winners – in this case the UAE and Saudi Arabia – were made clear.
International news during my visit to Expo in mid-February 2022 was punctuated by the persistent drumbeats of war – would Vladimir Putin invade Ukraine, possibly launching a new era of world war? As in the Gulf examples, the Russian pavilion omitted such overt politics. An eye-catching structure, designed by Tchoban Speech, the pavilion was made up of interlacing colorful wires, meant to evoke movement and connection while also referring to Russian matryoshka dolls and Constructivist architecture (Figure 10). Inside, the exhibits explored Russian products, art, and research in the inner workings of the brain (Figure 11). It was a universalist human message that celebrated historical Russian culture far removed from the contemporary political reality. However, in the gift shop, one was reminded of the current political situation, as clothing emblazoned with “Putin Team” was sold next to traditional crafts and reproductions of imperial tea sets (Figure 12).
Ultimately, I came away from the Expo filled with joy, nostalgia, wonder, and a renewed appreciation for the work I am fortunate to do. The architecture was often sublime; the displays thought-provoking; the shared public space a delicious respite from pandemic isolation. The pure physicality of the event after a year and a half of virtual life was a revelation. Even the omission of geopolitical reality felt like a temporary relief from the onslaught of the non-stop bad news we have all been consuming. But I also left feeling like we were at a precipice. I wondered whether this moment represented a landmark architectural expression of an increasingly small world, defined by global connection, innovation, and understanding. Or was this simply a wondrous last gasp of a global vision for a future that is increasingly precarious.
Notes
[1] Site, Themes, Architecture: Expo 2020 Dubai, (Assouline, 2021) 52.