Emirati expats in social media: a new arena for involvement and political expression?

ABSTRACT

Citizens’ online participation has gained momentum from voting to activism. Citizens of the United Arab Emirates actively utilize social media platforms and online sphere to express themselves, despite the prevalence of state authoritarianism. This study, however, does not deal with citizens’ participation in political affairs via online mediums but, rather, focuses upon the migrants – or expats – who constitute the majority of the UAE population. Despite the impossibility of acquiring citizenship, migrants have found ways to conduct some kinds of acts and habitus of citizenship. This study is based on Emirati expats’ participation in social and political life via different mediums, mainly YouTube. With citizens’ collaboration, the expats are able to join debates about Emirati life and challenge the Gulf migrants’ rhetoric.

KEYWORDS:

• Social media
• expats and social media
• digital participation
• the UAE identities

Introduction

The United Arab Emirates (UAE) has a high internet penetration rate. A research conducted in eight Arab countries (the UAE, Qatar, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon, and Tunisia) in 2013 showed that 66% of the population used the internet (Dennis, Martin, and Wood 2013). This rate was considerably higher in the GCC countries (almost 91% for the UAE, 86% for Qatar, and 82% for Bahrain and Saudi Arabia).

This study examines the involvement of expats living in the UAE in social media, both in terms of their everyday inclusion and in terms of their status as an integral part of society.¹ Even though the expats have no citizenship link with the state, social media tools have allowed them to involve themselves in numerous aspects of UAE life and society, including but not limited to academic, political, food, fashion, and nostalgic matters.

Considering this phenomenon, this study aims to answer several questions: Can one consider the expats involvement in social media to be a tool of political and social participation? Does this involvement mean or contribute anything in terms of creating a sense of belonging and loyalty? Finally, how can one place expats social media activities in broader citizenship studies? This study explores how, through blogging and vlogging, expats stake claims in the UAE’s public conversation around national identity and belonging to the country, society, and land. The examples presented in this study will highlight how expats have been involved in social media content creation about the UAE (and the Gulf in general), demonstrating that they are integral to imagining contemporary Gulf societies, even though their status is one of ‘permanent temporariness’ (Vora 2013).

Blogging and vlogging by expats in Gulf are also significant, as was proven yet again in Malcolm Bidali’s experience in Qatar. A Kenyan security guard working in Qatar, Bidali writes under the pen name ‘Noah Articulates’, is active on a range of social media accounts (Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram), and publishes insightful information about the situation for workers in Qatar. When Reuters approached him, he defined his activism in these terms: ‘It kind of makes me feel like Batman or Superman. You can say the things you want to say, with your own voice and your own style’ (Gebeily 2021). In 2021, Bidali was arrested on charges of accepting money from foreign agents (Harding 2021). Bidali was later released when rights advocacy groups and people worldwide, including 240 Qatar Foundation students, alums, faculty, and staff, began a petition for his release (AlSharif 2021; Ibrahim 2021). Even though Bidali’s case is not directly related to the UAE and is not a case that can be generalized as a norm for the Gulf, it does demonstrate the power of social media in the Gulf to enable what Isin calls acts of citizenship in societies where political participation is otherwise highly restricted.

Not all social media activity by expats operates, as ‘Noah Articulates’ did, to thrust ‘expat’ life (with all its realities, problems, and challenges) onto the political agenda. Social media activism sometimes takes the form of webinars and other times through sarcastic, ironic, and/or satirical blogs and vlogs. Food, fashion, and cultural and intellectual involvement have also played a significant role in demonstrating how expats claim belonging to the UAE society.

Based on this background and questions, this study argues that UAE expats have an ambivalent relationship with the online sphere. While they consume state-sponsored online content – such as Gulf News and The National, both of which are out of the scope of this study – they also participate in the social sphere as an agent. Their participation challenges the stereotypical expectation that their presence in the Gulf is only for remittances, additionally, challenging perspectives that purely focus on human rights abuses in the region (Dakkak 2021; Pattisson 2022; United Arab Emirates Archives n.d.; Vora and Koch 2015). This study further argues that the social media involvement of the expats living in the UAE is a way of practising everyday inclusion despite political limitations on their freedom of expression.

The cases covered in this study will be analysed through the prism of new citizenship studies, which argues that the concept of citizenship is no longer underpinned solely by legal status but has widened and deepened. This new kind of citizenship goes beyond strict legality and becomes more about habitus and acts of citizenship (Close 2016; Isin 2008; Isin and Nielsen 2008; Milani et al. 2021). In the case of the UAE (and in any place where legal status is hard or impossible to acquire), however, this should not be considered undermining the benefits of legal status, nor should it be considered downplaying the cost of not being a legal citizen. In other words, it does not mean that acquiring a legal status is simply optional or desirable; it remains a necessity. Still, even without any legal status, many other forms of citizenship exist, such as digital citizenship, ecological citizenship, and consumer citizenship (Anderson and Hughes 2015).

This study is divided into three parts. The first part introduces methodology-related issues such as case selection, terminological discussion, and ethics. The second part deals with the question of how citizenship has widened and deepened, especially in recent years, thanks to technological advancement. This aspect is analysed primarily via the writings of Engin Isin and Neha Vora. The third part deals with cases, two satirical accounts and two webinars drawn from social media, mainly YouTube.

Methodology, case selection, data collection, and ethics

This study was conducted as a part of the doctoral thesis about national identity in the UAE that began in September 2017. Even though I have conducted several field trips in the UAE, Qatar, and Oman for around seven months in total, this study is primarily based on the online sphere. While I have conducted semi-structured interviews and made ethnographic observations, the main data for this article derives from YouTube, along with, in some instances, other social media platforms. Even though very limited, I incorporated some of my observations and interviews from the fieldwork.

All online data used in this article are in the public domain and open to everyone. When I draw upon other social media channels, I do so only if they are likewise open to everyone. In other words, I have not used private Facebook and Twitter accounts, even in cases in which I am individually able to see the posts and shares. Some of my case studies have already been discussed in the literature: for example, the decision to use two of the cases that this study is based on – Akief and Al Kaashekh – was inspired by prior works from Lenze (2019, 2021). Moreover, Al Hussein, the co-organizer of my two other cases – the Desi-Khaleeji and Muwafed webinars – has stated on another YouTube channel that she is involved in this kind of online initiative to open an area for research. She states, ‘They [the webinars, or as she would address them “inclusive conversations”] are content; they are supposed to serve us as content. For researchers, actually, that was the incentive to create these virtual talks or inclusive conversations’ (Al-Dabbagh 2021, mint. 4.35–5.20).

My selection of cases was both inclusive and exclusive. Among many other options, I limited my study to four different cases: two satirical videos and two webinars. The cases are inclusive in that they derive from a wide range of expats, including Arabs and South Asians. The cases are exclusive, however, in that most of the people I study are middle and upper-middle-class university graduates; one of my motivations is also in using the term ‘expat’ interchangeably in this study. By diversifying the cases to four, for the sake of this study, I attempted to show how habitus or acts of citizenship brought new types of involvement in the UAE’s public sphere.

Despite living nigh segregated lives, expats are aware of local stereotypes. Segregation, belonging, and bordering have links to each other. For example, Yuval-Davis, Wemyss, and Cassidy (2018) studied the ‘everyday bordering’ of the migrants in the UK and found that migration can sometimes be securitized, which also has direct relations to everyday belonging. In this sense, while the videos show a certain degree of everyday belonging, they also, paradoxically, show the everyday bordering.

Before going into the cases in detail, a conceptual discussion is necessary. The terms expats, expatriates, migrants, and guests may not all refer to the same group in the UAE. From the perspective of the state, all non-nationals are preferably labelled guest workers. One explanation of this discursive choice points to the commitment of the UAE’s founding father, Sheikh Zayed, to the notion of Arab hospitality: The state and its leaders employ the concept of guest workers to give the impression that non-nationals are respected, as guests are treated better than family members. Indeed, it is known that Sheikh Zayed preferred calling the non-national a guest and not an expat (Ahmad 2016). However, one should be aware that the term ‘guest’ has also come to refer to the precarious situation of the workers. Vora (2009, 19) refers to the state’s aim of maintaining the precarious status of non-nationals when she points out that ‘Dubai’s … South Asian migrants … are tied to temporary work visas and defined by the government as “guest workers”.’ The UAE is not alone in this regard: The precarious status of most foreign residents is visible in many other countries, such as Israel, Qatar, and Japan, and is used as a way of disciplining labour which is an extension of the capitalist system (Allison 2013; Kaminer 2019, 2022; South Asian Diasporas in the Gulf, an Interview with Neha Vora 2015).

The terminology changes when employed in everyday life. While the term guest workers is customarily used to refer to lower-class non-nationals, the term expat or expatriate is used to refer to white and upper-middle-class non-white non-nationals (Gordon 2012). The term migrant is also used to refer to lower-class persons. The term resident might be employed to refer to all non-nationals. Although each of these terms conveys a slightly different meaning, they are used interchangeably in this study for three reasons; (1) the terms are ambiguous and lack clear criteria for determining who is in either category: (2) despite technically referring to different groups, these terms have been used interchangeably on many occasions, including by the participants in my video cases: (3) also as mentioned before as the participants in this videos are mostly middle class and university graduates (regardless their background in terms of nationality and ethnicity), I did not differentiate between the terms.

Deepening and widening the citizenship: different approaches to citizenship

Over time, citizenship studies have expanded to account for the myriad facets that constitute ideas of citizenship in our post-colonial and highly globalized world. People now can have multiple, legally ratified citizenship statuses thanks to ‘naturalization’ processes or citizenship derived from parental identity or place of birth (Weil 2001). On the other hand, the European Union features supranational citizenship, a legal status that binds to one’s national citizenship (Seubert 2021). As the EU’s official website explicitly states: ‘All citizens of an EU country are automatically citizens of the EU. Being an EU citizen gives you some important extra rights and responsibilities’ (EU Citizenship 2019).

Technological development has created tools which enable all kinds of new associations. As a result, Isin and Ruppert (2020) argue the use of these tools can be considered a form of digital citizenship; the immense connective power of digital engagement – from hashtags like #metoo to initiatives that reveal state secrets and keep citizens informed (such as Wikileaks and Anonymous) – has created forms of digital citizenship over which states have limited control due to the impossibility of effectively policing the internet and social media. Digital citizenship is not limited to enhancing the traditional tools of classical citizenship (such as voting or joining political parties) but also brings about new opportunities for civic engagement (Couldry et al. 2014). Jones (2017), for example, explores how social media becomes a useful tool during Bahrain uprising by focusing on political satire.

Furthermore, Couldry et al. (2014) examined several different forms of online engagement in England, including digital storytelling and community clubs, which, they suggested, contributed to the creation of a civic culture. Considering digital citizenship in this broader sense enables our cases to be considered as habitus or acts of citizenship, even if the participants lack legal citizenship in the UAE. Still, it must be recognized that even though digital developments have created new tools and avenues for civic engagement, the surveillance ability of the state has also been enhanced by technological progress (Mann, Nolan, and Wellman 2002). Moreover, due to the digital data trace that people leave when using any digital device, data brokers, companies, and states are now capable of monitoring the activities, behaviours, and thoughts of people within their purview to the degree that was not possible until very recently (Hintz, Dencik, and Wahl-Jorgensen 2017).

Citizenship as status, habitus, and act

In theorizing the act of citizenship, Isin (2008) describes a three-fold concept of citizenship, status, habitus, and act. In its most basic meaning, status refers to a person’s membership in any nation-state (Milani et al. 2021). Even though citizenship status deals with rights and duties defined by law, it also contains majorities’ and minorities’ views of citizenship (Milani et al. 2021).

Isin’s analysis of citizenship as habitus is based on Bourdieu and Foucault’s concepts (Milani et al. 2021). Isin (2008, 17) defines Bourdieu’s concept of habitus as ‘internalized or embodied ways of thought and conduct’ or ‘ways of thought and conduct that are internalized over a relatively long period of time’. Citizenship as habitus

is not so much the sum of rights and duties, or the status a person is endowed with by the state, either by birth or through naturalisation, but rather a manner of conduct that is acquired over time. Such an approach lays bare the multiple everyday discursive processes in which ‘citizenship regimes and their meanings materialise through mundane encounters, chance interactions, and routinised practices’.

(Milani et al. 2021, 758)

Isin (2008, 16) suggests that the global movements of people, goods, and capital have accelerated the changing nature of state-citizen relations, creating ‘new affinities, identifications, loyalties, animosities and hostilities across borders’. This movement, moreover, has ‘produce[d] new, if not paradoxical, subjects of law and action, new subjectivities and identities, new sites of struggle and new scales of identification’ (Isin 2008, 16). The new creation challenged the traditional meaning of citizenship, which can be defined as ‘a legal status of membership in the state’ or as ‘the practices of becoming claim-making subjects in and through various sites and scales’ (Isin 2008, 16).

Consumer (Neo-liberal) citizenship

Neha Vora’s book Impossible Citizens: Dubai’s Indian Diaspora proved ground-breaking in its extension of the concept of citizenship beyond the UAE’s legal framework, framing it alternatively as habitus and even sometimes as an act. Her analyses of the UAE’s middle-class Indian diaspora shed light on the problematic habit of calling them ‘migrants’ and ‘expats’, demonstrating this diaspora can and does perform an act as if they belong to the country, evincing a form of ‘biculturality’ (Vora 2013, pp. 148–149).

Vora’s analyses of Indian residents in the UAE reveal the challenges inherent between a sense of belonging to a country and a lack of legal citizenship in that country. Since there is no possibility of citizenship for these residents, Vora composes the phrase ‘impossible citizens’ to connote the multifaceted aspects of citizenship beyond mere legal status. Aware of the impossibility of legal status, Vora suggests several names for the citizenships that the Indian migrants’ experience, such as ‘quintessential citizens’, ‘impossible citizens’, ‘neoliberal citizenship’, ‘everyday citizenship’, ‘unofficial citizens’, ‘transnational citizenship’, ‘consumer citizenship’, ‘urban belonging’, and ‘urban citizenship’ (Vora 2013, 1, 3, 30, 31, 115, 116, 136, 141). Even though each of these phrases carries different connotations and slightly different meanings, they all challenge the dichotomy of the citizen-noncitizen binary. Vora’s analysis depicts middle-class Indians as consumer citizens, drawing upon the ways Indian migrants speak about their experiences on social media and demonstrating the many means by which Indian migrants have created a sense of belonging and involvement in everyday life. Despite the racial discrimination they face in their everyday lives, middle-class Indians praise the UAE leadership for the opportunities they provide to them and consider Dubai to be part of their Indian identity (Vora 2008).

Blogging and vlogging: a way of identity assertion?

Blogging, vlogging, and other kinds of social media activities are incredibly popular in the Gulf, as the rate of internet accessibility is high. YouTube is used by 87.40%, Facebook by 79%, Instagram by 67.10%, Twitter by 52%, and LinkedIn by 51.50% of the UAE population (UAE Social Media Usage Statistics 2021). Social media influencers in the UAE have created such a niche for themselves that Dubai has been labelled the ‘planet’s influencer capital’ (Michaelson 2021).

Social media – whether it be in the form of memes, parodies, or viral videos – has been studied in the context of different countries. Kumar (2015), for example, examined how online initiatives have been used as a means of political and social critique in India. Indians have created videos and memes to bring social and political phenomena, such as India’s patriarchal discourse, child labour, or the caste system, under critique. Moreover, Dakkak (2022, 12) studies the production of popular culture (short comedic song videos and skits) in Saudi Arabia and Bahrain and shows how ‘they challenge authority and national boundaries by centralizing spaces of labour and turning them into sites of agency and cultural expression’.

With the decline of trust in journalism and the mushrooming of corporate news media outlets, satirical videos have emerged as a new mode of political and social engagement (Punathambekar 2015). Similarly, Downing (2021) examines how social media, via memes and other videos, has affected vernacular security.

Moreover, satire can be considered a form of ‘political communication in itself’ (Brock 2018, 282). Jokes, in general, are ‘social thermometers that measure, record, and indicate what is going on’ in a particular society (Davies 1996, 9). In this sense, the satirical videos that this study examines can be considered as social thermometers for the UAE’s society, giving us an idea of what is ‘going on’ in the interaction between foreigners and nationals in the country.

Social media activities in the UAE also reveal the transnational identity of the region as ‘social media practices serve as ways for first- and second-generation Gulf migrants from Kerala to express, negotiate and communicate issues related to transnational identity by making, sharing or commenting on video and visual images’ (Lenze 2021, pp. 158–159). Therefore, the case studies covered in this paper can be considered expressions of the transnational identities of expats that have long resided in the UAE and the Gulf.

YouTubing in the Gulf: the case of Akief and Al Kaashekh

For long-term residents in the UAE, including second and third-generation expatriates, content creation has meant that influencers are now able to broadcast to the world a narrative about their lives which in significant parts reflects upon essential components of their identities in the UAE. This section of the study shall deal with two such young Youtubers, namely Akief and Al Kaashekh, both of whom come from the state of Kerala in India (Lenze 2019).

Akief’s short satirical video, ‘What happens when foreigners try to be like Arab’, gives a good, if comedic, indication of how expats read the behaviours of nationals (Akief 2016). The video showcases many features of the national identity that the state has attempted to cultivate amongst its citizens, emphasizing these features to the point of all-too-obvious stereotypes. The video shows two expats wearing white kandura (Emirati national dress for males), showing pictures to each other (probably from Instagram, a popular social media platform in the Gulf), riding in a luxury car, playing Kashf El Mahabba (a song by Mohamed al Shehhi), dousing themselves in expensive perfume, drinking Karak tea in their car, and donning designer sunglasses. The magic, however, is disrupted when someone stops them and asks for their address in Arabic due to their ‘local’ appearance. While whispering to each other about what to do, one suggests saying ‘Maafi malum’ (‘have no knowledge’, a broken phrase in Arabic) as he suggests it works all the time. The video ends a few seconds later (Akief 2016). The video satirically impugns the forever in-between status of immigrants, who are never able to fully integrate into Emirati society. Besides stereotyping Emiratis (flashy car, Karak tea, photos, attire etc.), the video also showcases how the expats are not able to speak very basic Arabic as a result of their segregated existence in the country. Even though these satirical videos are not internet memes, they do have a similar function, as they bring ‘inside jokes or pieces of hip underground knowledge, that many people are in on’ (Bauckhage 2021). Moreover, from a nationalism studies perspective, the video shows that despite the fact that the expats do not speak Arabic and may not be involved in the Emirati circle, they are aware of national symbols that are used to characterize the imagined Emirati community, this becomes possible thanks to the banal repetition of the ‘invented traditions’ (Anderson 1983; Billig 1995; Hobsbawm 1983).

In another video, Akief satirizes another Emirati cultural attribute: greeting by rubbing the nose. In a one-minute and ten seconds video, two Indian friends (Nihal and Akief) coincidently run into Nihal’s boss (Akief 2017). The boss and Nihal greet each other with khashmak (bringing noses close to each other). Akief, however, misunderstands this action, believing them to be kissing each other on the lips. When Nihal introduces his boss to him, Akief, hoping to avoid putting his friend in an awkward position, goes to kiss the boss. Shocked, the boss runs away while firing Nihal from the job.

The nose rubbing as a form of greeting is also the topic of a citizen YouTuber, Khalid Al Ameri -one of the most famous Emirati social media influencers – along with Salama, his wife. Al Ameri has a self-proclaimed mission to introduce UAE and Emirati culture, vision, and values to the world. Some of the videos he shares include titles such as ‘The Karak driving challenge’, ‘Nannies of Dubai’, and ‘Dubai’s cheapest sandwich’.

In a video particularly relevant to this study, Khalid Al Ameri goes to a shopping mall to ask expats whether they know how the Emiratis greet each other. In the video’s description, he states, People from the United Arab Emirates greet each other with a nose kiss, but in a country that is made up of 80% expatriates, we wondered how many have tried our traditional greeting, so we went out to give residents of the UAE their first nose kiss (Al Ameri 2021). He then asked the people if they knew the greeting; if they did not, he showed them. Regardless of Khalid Al Ameri’s intention, he is involved in nation-building, not just by promoting a single unique national symbol, such as kissing by a nose, but also by ‘teaching’ and ‘creating awareness’ of the UAE’s culture among expats. Both Akief and Al Ameri’s videos thus demonstrate the successful involvement of expats as digital citizens of the UAE.

While satirical, Akief’s videos reinforce important features of the UAE’s national identity. The fact that Akief, despite being a non-national, is aware of most of these features, including stereotypes and ‘invented traditions’, is significant. At the same time, the fact that he shows how non-nationals are unaware of certain features of UAE culture and society (again satirically) illustrates the impact of the UAE’s social hierarchy.

However, in both cases, Akief’s content reflects a sense of his everyday belonging to the UAE within an online sphere, which can be considered a form of habitus, an act of citizenship, or a form of consumer citizenship.

Al Kaashekh is another YouTuber who lives in the UAE (Sharjah) from Kerala, India. Like Akief, Al Kaashekh’s videos touch on important topics in a sarcastic and satirical way. In his one-minute video, ‘Introducing an Indian friend to Arab friends’, he touches upon many stereotypes that Arabs have about Indians (Al Kaashekh 2017). The video depicts Omar (an Emirati) driving a car with his Indian friend before stopping to pick up two Arab friends. One of the Arab friends opens the front door, only to be surprised to see someone already sitting in front. Both Arab friends are thus forced to sit in the back, where they begin to make fun of the Indian in Arabic on the assumption that he does not understand what they are saying. One of the two asks Omar, ‘Omar, who is this’ using a derogatory expression. The other friend says, ‘Omar, look at your friends’, indicating only to themselves, laughing in the back seat. The mockery continues: ‘Omar, why are you friends with Indians?’; ‘Did he come in an airplane?’; ‘Looks like he came to work in the cafeteria’ (this later reference to the many Indians working as unskilled labourers). When the car passes children playing cricket, the first friend says, ‘Drop him [the Indian] to his friends; let them play cricket’. The other response was, ‘Man, forget about cricket; let him bring Karak tea for us’. The clip ends with a sudden interruption by the Indian, now revealing that he does, in fact, speak Arabic: ‘So you guys want more sugar or less [in the Karak tea]?’ (Al Kaashekh 2017).

Another video by Al Kaashekh touches upon a stereotypical tendency for Emiratis to call Indian expats ‘rafeeq’ (friends) (Al Kaashekh 2018). The video depicts the following: An Emirati approaches a tire centre to have his car tires checked. While approaching, he calls out to the Indian expat working there, ‘Salam rafeeq’. He continues to use the phrase repeatedly: ‘Oh rafeeq, you have alignment too’; ‘rafeeq! Are these original?’; ‘Oh rafeeq, you have A/C refill too?’; ‘Rafeeq, is this rotation work?’; ‘Wow, lathe works too huh, rafeeq?’! At this point, the Indian expat cannot stand it anymore. He shouts, ‘Enough! Everybody calling me rafeeq! Rafeeq! I have a name; my father gave me my name! I have forgotten my name because of this rafeeq thing!’ Amidst this confrontation, the Indian worker’s boss calls out to him, ‘Rafeeq! Your salary is ready’. This time, the Indian worker does not complain about being called ‘rafeeq’. Overjoyed, he runs to receive his salary (Al Kaashekh 2018). In relation to this, it should be noted that the use of the term ‘rafeeq’ was mentioned in several interviews when I conducted fieldwork. Some interviewees brought up their frustration at being called ‘rafeeq’, while others did not deem it uncomfortable. Regardless of the intention behind the term and the perception of the term as negative, the fact that this issue has been satirized on YouTube is illustrative of social media’s role as a new tool of citizenship in the UAE.

Considering the topics they have brought to the agenda, from the stereotypes towards nationals to the issues that non-nationals face, the satirical video production goes parallel to the broader literature on the effects of social media and satirical content on everyday life and also on showing the transnational identity of the content creator that exceeds one country, the UAE or India (Dakkak 2022; Lenze 2021). Moreover, the fact that they brought the dissatisfaction of rafeeq or showed how little they know about the culture or the possible undervaluing of the Indians by the locals in a satirical way are ways that can be considered digital citizenship and also a performance of everyday inclusion. Furthermore, considering the content they have promoted, one can say that these are similar to what Couldry et al. (2014) define as digital citizenship for England, as digital storytelling was shown as a feature to create civic culture.

Webinaring in the Gulf (The cases of Desi-Khaleejis and Muwafed)

Two webinars were organized to platform second and third-generation South Asian and Arab immigrant voices from the Gulf in 2021; the first is titled ‘Desi-Khaleejis: when home is a mirage’, while the second is titled ‘Muwafed: Temporary Home Permanent Belonging’. The webinars were co-organized by Saraswathi and Al Hussein and were later uploaded to YouTube on Al Hussein’s channel and served as the primary data of this study (Al Hussein 2021b, 2021c).

Contrary to the satirical videos explained above, the videos are more serious as they are a reflection of academic discussions. The topics in both webinars include experiences and thoughts about belonging, home, and their status in the country and culture.

Desi-Kheeleji: when home is a mirage

The first webinar hosted the second and third-generation South Asian immigrants took place in March 2021. The term ‘Desi- Khaleejis’ was coined by one of the panellists, Prasad, and refers to people who are of South Asian origins but have been long-term residents of the Gulf. The term Desi-Khaleejis is significant that will be further elaborated with the next case.

Notably, the webinar was co-organized by Al Hussein, an Emirati citizen who has often spoken out against the pan-Gulf legal ruling that does not allow female citizens to pass on citizenship to their children if born to foreign fathers (Al Hussein 2021a). Over the past year, Al Hussein has organized several webinars on discussions around expatriate experiences in the Gulf.

The webinar on Desi Khaleejis brought together different people of Indian origin living in the Gulf. Daud, a ‘Desi-Emirati’ who moderated the session, stated that this conversation was not about nostalgia. It was neither about demanding citizenship nor, eventually, a conversation that recommended such a thing. The meeting was not about praise for, gratitude for, or pleasing the UAE; rather, the debate reflected people who have thought about the issues.

The audience’s debate, comments, and questions were reflective of people who were not in the country just for the remittances. This is even truer for the second and third generations of ‘Desis’, a term that is used to define South Asians, even though among the participants who rejected to be called ‘Desi-Khaleeji’ as neither the ‘Desi’ nor ‘Khaleej’ can be called home. Saraswathi, for example, stated that even though she does not call either place home, Qatar is a home for her children (Al Hussein 2021c, mint. 1.33–2.30).

Quadri (Desi-Emirati, or Desi-Dubaian) questions her status being addressed as a ‘migrant’ or ‘expat’ since she was born and raised in the UAE. Prasad, a ‘Desi-Omani’, brought up the question of the ‘Western human right lens’ perspective and believed that the Gulf studies should avoid this discourse. Instead, Prasad put forward the notion of ‘emotional citizenship’ – a concept that he elaborated on based on Vora’s studies. For Prasad, ‘Muscat is home, Muscat will always be home, so nobody can take it from me, no passport, no visa, no visa status’ (Al Hussein 2021c, mint. 29.38–29.49). The fact that he attempts to avoid the so-called human right lens and studies the region with lived experiences shows his feeling and belonging to the region. Moreover, he clearly stated that Muscat would always remain home even if he left the place.

Promodh, who was identified as ‘Desi-Qatari’ at the meeting, did not agree with the ‘Desi-Khaleeji’ characterization of her identity on account of objections to both components of the term (Desi and Khaleeji). The term Desi, according to Promodh, homogenizes South Asians by ignoring other identities. The term ‘Khaleeji’ also does not correlate much meaning to the locals. As she spent most of her life (the first 18 years) in Dubai and then moved to Qatar, neither she nor her parents’ interactions with the local population had been beyond bureaucratic affairs. Promodh’s criticism of analyses which treat the ‘Gulf’ as a homogenous entity is also worth consideration. Even though the webinar, for the sake of a catchy title, was titled ‘Desi-Khaleeji’, the fact that the panellists’ experiences in the various Gulf States were so wildly divergent indicated that the designation was problematic. Promodh thrust this issue onto the agenda by referring to the wide-ranging experiences of people and pointing out that different levels of interactions with locals are essential.

Promodh’s analysis of the term ‘migration’ is even more noteworthy. When Promodh asked her mother about the concept of migration for her own research, her mother’s response was striking: ‘What is this migration? Only birds migrate. We did not migrate over here; we are just people who came here to work; and we happened to come to Dubai’ (Al Hussein 2021c, mint. 40.40–40.56).

Mirza’s analyses of ‘Desi-Khaleejis’ can be considered parallel to the people who are non-nationals, especially those of second or later generations. Mirza states that neither ‘Desi’ nor ‘Khaleeji’ is a term that she affiliates herself with. However, the combination of the two terms is important as they aim to

creating a label that takes into account our identities and acknowledges it rather than each identity being viewed as separate, so it is a more of amalgamation of these identities and these selves within us rather than treating alien to each other.

(Al Hussein 2021c, mint. 56.10–56.50)

Mirza’s remarks about the segregation of the residents and citizens are important. She states that,

It was really strange to me we shared a country with over a million Kuwaitis, but we didn’t share space with any of them. So, to us, they were the others; it made me think, how do they see us? How do they otherise us as we do to them?.

(Al Hussein 2021c, mint. 60.00–61.00)

Even though the discussion includes many other experiences, the reason I base the discussion more on their feelings about the ‘Desi’ and ‘Khaleeji’ is that being identified as one of these or the combination of these two terms, ‘desi-Khaleeji’ is a reflection of belonging to the region or where ‘home’ is. Also, as some of the panellists have lived outside the Gulf for a while but still join the debates about the region is important. For example, Prasad has been based outside the Gulf for over two years, and Daud has been living in London for many years now.

The case of Muwafed: temporary home permanent belonging

Muwafed was another webinar organized by Al Hussein, but this time not with South Asian expats. Rather, it was with six Arab expats who were either born in or spent most of their lifespans in the UAE (Al Hussein 2021c). Muwafed is a word derived from two Arabic terms, muwaten (meaning citizen) and wafed (meaning expat). What makes the term relevant to this study is the experiences that the expats (second and third generations) faced and a similar attempt to title the experience and define it.

The term ‘desi-khaleejis’ was also coined by one of the participants in a previous webinar. If one considers both terms in one setting, it is easy to link the shared experience, which includes transnational identity in one sense which includes the country of origin and the Gulf, at the same inclusion and exclusion. Inclusion is a way of feeling the Gulf as a part of one’s identity while, because of total integration, also foreign. Moreover, the existence of these kinds of discussions and debates transformed the participants into agents. Therefore, regardless of the nationality of non-nationals, there are significant points that they share to the degree coincidentally they coined a term for their experience.

The webinar begins with a short narrative film explaining the following: The term Muwafed, according to the Haddad, is an expat who is born, raised, or has lived the majority of his or her lives in the Arabian Gulf, holding no ties to their country of origin, nor county of residence. An expat but not a foreigner, a local but not a citizen. ‘I have a name for this’, Haddad adds. ‘I am neither Muwaten [national] nor Wafed [expat]. I am Muwafed, and so are you’. He continues to explain his understanding of the term, and its relationship to his lived experience, as follows:

This is the United Arab Emirates. It’s young, like 47 years young, and it is the place where my parents decided to move to in the ‘70s. But I did not move here. I was born here. This is home. This is where I was raised. And I lived through it all. The volcano fountain, Channel 33, fishing at the old Corniche, movies at the Cultural Foundation … . I know this place like the back of my hand as a local would. But on paper, I’m not actually a local citizen. I’m an expat.

They come from all over the place. I grew up in a church surrounded by Syrians and Iraqis. I studied at Indian school most of my life. I played football in the streets with kids from Palestine, Yemen, and Sudan. I played in a music band with British kids. I worked with kids from American schools when I was a youth worker.

And I ate dates and drank qahwa in Emirati people’s majlises. And on the top of that, my family are both Lebanese and Egyptian. And in the UAE, I’m categorised as one of two groups of people. I’m either a wafed meaning expat, or a muwatin, meaning local.

Typically, a muwaten is a local citizen. But on the other hand, expats are generally perceived as temporary visitors who have a home somewhere else to go back to in the summer, and have very little to do with the values and the customs here. But to be honest, I struggle to call myself an expat. Because I don’t have a home to go back to in the summer like most expats do. But I also struggle to call myself a local since I’m not a citizen. So, if I don’t have a home in the country where I am from, and if I am not from the country I call home, then what am I?.

(Al Hussein 2021a, mint. 0.18–2.29)

The term Muwafed was more accepted than the term Desi-Khaleeji among the audience, as it was widely perceived to better reflect their relationship with the state. Kilani, for example, argued that I think overall, I definitely think that Muwafed is easier for me to identify under rather than expats because, to be honest, when I think expats, I just think British expats over here, I don’t really think of us.

The content of the documentary shows that the lived experience of the Muwafed is of a different type to that of a simple expatriate. For many, the UAE is home, despite their precarious status there. The sense of being from there, having all experiences, and even more important, the fact that Sheikh Zayed, one of the founding fathers and the first President of the UAE, mentioned ‘he is our father as well’ is important to see how powerful their sense of belonging is (Al Hussein 2021a, mint. 4.07–4.09).

Conclusion

This study attempted to shed light on an understudied aspect of Gulf migrants’ use of social media for socio-political ends. From nostalgic conversations to academic discussions to satirical commentary on local issues, to portraying stereotypes, non-nationals have found a space in UAE’s social media sphere from which they have proven able to widen the public debate around identity and belonging.

By staking a claim in debates and discussions on issues that define Emirati society, these social media activists, early-career academics, and second or third-generation immigrants are guided by a strong intention to popularize their local expertise and knowledge of the UAE and the Gulf in general. By the same token, this fulfils the criteria of what Vora calls ‘consumer citizenship’ or what Isin calls ‘habitus’ and ‘acts of citizenship’.

And yet, this commitment has not entirely removed the genuine feelings of displacement and long-term disenfranchisement experienced by expatriates in an autocratic state like the UAE. However, I do not argue that all these social media interventions amounts to brave citizen activism, as that would be true for the case of Bidali in Qatar but may not be necessarily true for the other cases. However, all cases show the everyday belonging and also bordering of the non-nationals to the UAE and Gulf.

Of course, the discourse of home and homing is not straightforward among non-nationals. For example, O’Connor (2021) analysed the notion of home and homing among both citizens and non-nationals and found that 71% of the UAE nationals having a strong attachment to the UAE, while the rate for non-nationals is much lower – a mere 28%, a significant fact when one considers what belonging or homing mean among the UAE’s non-nationals.

Going back to citizenship debates by Isin, it can be said that blogging, vlogging, or other new forms of activities challenge classical conceptions of citizenship. However, it would be a misunderstanding to think that expats have all rights and privileges of citizens except citizenship as status or that the UAE expats are happy with their status and are satisfied with their level of public participation regardless of their formal citizenship status.

Acknowledgements

I would like to express my gratitude to the anonymous reviewers and editors for their engagement and feedback on this article and to Professor William Gallois and Professor Ilan Pappe for their supervision. Moreover, I would like to thank the Ministry of National Education of Türkiye for funding my education in the US and the UK.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.

Notes

1. A conceptual discussion about these terms (expats, migrants, and guests) will be made in the methodology section.