Missing: Identity

In architecture and urban planning, the term "placemaking" refers to the interaction between a space and its inhabitants, where people shape, define, and bring life into their communities. It’s an essential part of modern design. We are long past those naive and idealistic days when we thought that enough data and shrewd enough intellects could build communities that we’re happy with.

You could take the perspective that we wear our communities. They say something about us in aggregate, like our clothes do in the singular.

Whether a town changes or the people change, there will be a period of interaction and environmental growth as the two strangers—town and people—become acquainted and adapt to each other. Counterintuitively, people are slower to change than buildings because buildings can change on paper a dozen times in a day before a single shovel breaks ground. Therefore, it’s known that to speed up public adoption of new spaces, the public should be involved in the design. Hence - Placemaking.

Following World War II, London and its betitled Lords gave some curious looks to the idea of clearing out the rubble, flattening much of what still stood, and rebuilding the whole thing in line with modern urban planning concepts. In the end, they built it back up as it was, sans the Victorian slums, where urban planners finished what the Germans left undone.

Thanks to that decision, London today is an education in history, with a broad and deep culture. To rebuild is to rebrand and reestablish an identity. It can be done, but as I’ve stated, it’s a slow process. The inhabiting population has to come to rest after the mayhem of reconstruction to find opportunities, interact with one another, fall in love, die, give birth, send children to school, and eventually, one day a culture and common identities begin to form.

Photo of 2 punks in London, 1976. Photo by Catherine Laz. © All rights belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Paris is a great example of this, so is New York, Tokyo, and Shanghai. Each of them redesigned and rebuilt either to be positioned better for economic growth, by necessity, or by shame. Shame is seldom admitted to, but often a factor. Shanghai was a soiled and shameful thing to the Chinese when it was given back by an orgy of Western powers. We know that Baron Haussmann rebuilt Paris to a new image characterized by abundant air, space, and light, and with especial pride felt at the destruction of the slums. It was he who said that his intention was to "replace these nearly uninhabitable constructions with healthy and spacious houses."

All of this is to say that I do have some perspective on Dubai, I rank it among the most soulless cities around. I know that it’s a somewhat fresh city, straining to establish itself on the world stage, and that it’s a symbol of that little port country’s big ambitions. I see the foresight in attempting to diversify the national economy away from oil’s dominance. I see the investment in culture. But not all cities are built the same way, and I fear that Dubai has sold its soul in a contract with a very, very long termination date.

Dubai is a constructed city, designed by intellect rather than the organic mutations that happen to places over time. In its early stages, it was like an oversized jumper waiting for the child to grow into it. Long stretches of baking hot Arabian desert were all one could see from the various disconnected and incongruous buildings which glittered in their finery like party guests waiting for everyone else to turn up.

It was built with no say from the inhabitants because—well, no one lived in that patch of desert. Workers had to be imported on what amount to slave contracts, and today over 90% of Dubai is first-generation immigrant. How can you consult a community who will arrive 20 years later from all four corners of the globe?

Unfortunately, placemaking has never been a feature of Dubai’s planning. Car-centric suburbs, 25% empty office space, vanity projects, and a million world's biggest (blank)s all go to reveal the top-down, aesthetic vision that Dubai has always had.

Photo of a party at Be Beach DXB, Dubai, 2023. Photo courtesy of Lady Lead Mag. © All rights belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Aesthetics is its culture, sadly. A bit like Las Vegas but without a lick of self-awareness and humor. At least Las Vegas markets itself as a madhouse, and is appropriately blingy for a city built on the hubris of gamblers and their money. Dubai marketed itself on aesthetics, and an aesthetic crowd is who it attracted.

What do you think of when you think of Dubai? I think of Swiss watches, Italian supercars, parties, and high-rise hotels against a backdrop of city lights and car lights that move along the roads like colored beads sliding down a string. I also think of influencers, grifters, new money, and credit spenders. People with whom I have little in common want to associate with that crowd and leave lipstick on the glasses at those parties.

Dubai is a nexus of the world’s brands, but it has none of its own. It’s a supercar hub, yet it has no industry to make them. Watches, jewelry, and expensive accessories are essential to its image, yet I have never seen someone proudly boast of his Emirati timepiece. Even the parties come from beyond its borders, where alcohol consumption is common and at odds with Islamic values.

This is Dubai’s brand, and it will take a major shake-up, or a very long time for a strong culture to emerge. Its inhabitants have to stick around longer too. Currently, immigrants stay for 4.4 years, and the entire UAE has a growth rate of over 3%. Placemaking has to take place before any kind of soulful, folk identity can emerge and with such a turnover of citizens, this will take a long time.

It also needs some industry to meet its reputation. The UAE is in a great spot to start exporting luxury goods and move away from being the world’s luxury shopping center.