Article
Comment
Freedom of Belief
Islam
Middle East
7 min read

Beyond the glitz: the Gulf States and belief

Religious tolerance amid the skyscrapers.

Andrew Thompson MBE is an Anglican priest who served in Kuwait and the United Arab Emirates.

A large, modern cubiod building with a series of thin external pillars is seen from low down against a sunny blue sky
St Francis Church, Dubai.
Abrahamic Family House.

The Arabian Gulf conjures up images of sandy deserts, oil and gas and robed Arab sheikhs. Western (orientalist) academic imagination portrays the tribal culture of the Arab as rooted in a timeless Islamic world, one which suggests an atavistic conservatism which imposes severe restrictions on women and people of other faiths. 

The reality, however, in a country like the United Arab Emirates is utterly different. This is a country which has more women in the government cabinet than any other country in the world. Emirati women hold more PhDs than their male compatriots. The UAE government has a Minister for Artificial Intelligence, a Minister for Coexistence and Tolerance, and (my favourite) a Minister for the Future. They examine the emergence and use of new technologies which would enhance human existence. A good example is Masdar city, a whole residential area which is built from the ground up to run on sustainable and renewable energy. The paradox of using oil and gas revenues to invest in future forms of renewable energy is one of many. This is a Gulf country which has wholeheartedly embraced living for the future; yet at the same time, they have held onto the ancient Islamic faith as a vehicle which carries their values in the here and now. 

A visitor to Dubai can only marvel at the speed at which the city has morphed from a sleepy backwater just one generation ago, to being one of the world’s leading cities and tourist destinations. In the last 12 months, 17 million tourists visited Dubai alone. 

Even more impressive is the Gulf’s use of ‘soft’ power in which they use the wealth of the oil industry in projecting Arab influence in spheres ranging from space exploration and sport. We have witnessed Gulf states hosting world cups, mixed martial arts tournaments, and Formula One through to the performing arts including opera, musicals (Hamilton is currently playing there) and K Pop.  

In the current crisis between Hamas and the Israeli government we have seen Qatar come to prominence as peace negotiators and the lobbyists of countries locked into the Abrahamic Accord - a groundbreaking peace deal between Israel and Gulf States ending decades long diplomatic détente. That Saudi Arabia are offering to join the Abrahamic Accord if Israel commits to the two-state solution signals a shift in Middle Eastern politics which is unprecedented in the region’s history. 

Amid these developments is the presence of a large, international and flourishing church community.  There has been little written about the religious space in the Arabian Gulf; much of the attention has been focused on the oil industry and the resulting politics. Yet, there are many Christian communities in the region. The Christian church in the Gulf has recently been visited by Pope Francis. The papal visits are the first ever in the region. The first one in 2019 witnessed a staggering 180,000 worshippers attending a mass in a football stadium provided by the president of the UAE.  This was followed by a trip to Iraq and then to Bahrain.   

The discourse regarding tolerance has become a feature of soft diplomacy across the Arabian Gulf, with numerous interfaith initiatives receiving government backing.  The UAE is leading the way with the construction of the first purpose built Gurudwara, a Hindu Temple and a much-celebrated Abrahamic Family House; a single campus which hosts a mosque, church and a synagogue (also the first to be built in the region). 

At a time when Islamophobia and Antisemitism are escalating, Muslims in the West are feeling the need to retreat from the public space to feel safe.  Ancient hostile narratives are being resurrected to paint the Islamic community as an alien enemy whose values are antithetical to Western ones. This was seen most recently during the World Football tournament in Qatar where the Western media relentlessly pushed stories which distorted and misled their audience on Arab culture and context. For example, the figures of high death rates reported by the media, of Nepali workers building football stadiums neglected to mention that these statistics included the deaths of all expatriates of all nationalities resident in the country, and that most of the deaths reported were due to natural causes (heart attack and cancer), road traffic accidents and so on. Another story implied that there was no alcohol permitted in the country and everyone had to go ‘dry’.  This was patently false as fans who visited the country can attest to. Alcohol was available and accessible to those who wanted it. These negative reports reinforced existing prejudices against the Muslim Arabs. I would like to counteract some of this hostility based on my experience of living in the Arabian Gulf over several years as an Anglican priest. 

A fourth century letter from a bishop who was dealing with the issue of whether Christian pearl divers should work on a Sunday. 

Christianity in the Arabian Gulf predates Islam. Churches and monasteries functioned on the trading routes from Baghdad, travelling along the South-eastern coastline all the way through to Oman.  Many of the prominent tribes in northern and eastern Arabia were Christians.  

These ancient Christian communities had a seminary, several bishoprics and prominent theologians who produced commentaries and liturgies still in use today.  They were involved in several trades, including the pearling industry. A fourth century letter from a bishop who was dealing with the issue of whether Christian pearl divers should work on a Sunday; left it to the individual conscience of the pearl diving community.  

It was trade, not persecution, which was the main factor leading to the decline of the church by the ninth century.  By then Islam had coexisted with the Christians peacefully for at least 200 years.  The archaeological sites of churches in the Gulf today show no sign of violence and destruction, rather, their building materials were used to build nearby homes long after the monks had left. 

It is sobering to discover that some of the worst religious encounters in terms of violence and intolerance in the region, came not from the Islamic communities but rather the militant western Christian powers who were expanding their empires to the East. First came the Portuguese who were vicious in the use of the mutilation of noses and ears as a tool to subjugate Arab tribes. This was followed by the British and the assertive use of gun boat diplomacy. To this day the residents of Ras Al Khaimah in the northern emirates recount their town being shelled by the British Royal Navy in the late 1800s.  

The pages of the Gospel often come to life to me when I visit a Muslim home and I recognize similar patterns of culture. 

Given this negative history, it is astonishing that the culture of tolerance prevailed towards non-Muslims in the coastal cities of Arabia.  Today in the UAE, over forty centres of Christian worship offer a spiritual home to close to nine per cent of the population. Though not quite to the same extent, other Gulf countries have similar provisions of hospitality for the Christian community. Saudi Arabia, long regarded as the most intolerant of the Arab states, is including church buildings in their ambitious project The Line. 

The gift that the Arabian Gulf offers is a model in which diverse neighbours can learn to encounter each other in a space in which is neutral and rewarding. My own faith as a Christian has been deeply enhanced by learning about and experiencing Islamic spirituality and hospitality. It astonishes me how few take up that opportunity, despite being many years in the region. 

The Arabian Islamic culture echoes and at times has preserved the culture that would have been familiar to Jesus Christ. The pages of the Gospel often come to life to me when I visit a Muslim home and I recognize similar patterns of culture, I am reminded that Jesus was a child of the Middle East.   

One project the church in the UAE initiated was to make local employment laws available to workers in their native languages.

Western media often highlights negative stories from the Arabian Gulf regions. Human rights issues and migrant labour abuse are some of the common issues. Without diminishing the real suffering of victims in these stories, the reality is that these are global issues.  

The UK witnessed multiple deaths of the Chinese cockle pickers in Blackpool; in addition, migrants in the UK can recite a long list of unjust hostile actions taken against them by the British Home Office.   

The Gulf has modified their laws to criminalise abuse of labourers and domestic workers, although critics point out that the laws are not consistently enforced. One project the church in the UAE initiated was to make local employment laws available to workers in their native languages, both in writing and on an audio device. 

This then is the alternative narrative.  The Arabian Gulf, at its best, can model interfaith and intercultural encounters in a way which promotes a safe and cohesive society. Islam, at its best, can provide a counterpoint in the religious landscape in which non-Muslims can worship without fear. 

An antidote to the ‘Arab-bashing’ which seems to prevail in the West is to move away from promoting hostile narratives and instead, in the words of Paul in the New Testament, to seek that which is true, honourable, pure, lovely and excellent. 

Article
Comment
Purpose
Sport
5 min read

So we won the Ryder Cup. At what cost?

When beer flies and etiquette dies, maybe we’ve mistaken sport for something else

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

A video still shows a beer can thrown at a golf amid a crows
The beer flies towards Rory McIlroy.

Phew. The Ryder Cup was an epic. After a couple of days of European dominance, fans on this side of the pond looked forward to the Sunday one-on-one single matches as a formality, only needing a few more points to wrap up the Cup, only for the American team to suddenly discover they could play a bit after all. It turns out Europeans play better together (the matches on Friday and Saturday all involved teams of two playing against each other) but the Americans excel when they're on their own. The latter nearly pulled off a famous comeback but finally fell short as the gritty Europeans stumbled across the line, Shane Lowry holding his nerve to sink an eight-footer on the 18th, and Tyrell Hatton sealing the win with a nerveless par on the last.

Much of the talk afterwards however was not about the match but the behaviour of the American fans. The European golfers, especially their talisman Rory McIlroy, were subject to some pretty vile abuse throughout the three days. His wife was drenched by a beer thrown in her direction, insults were shouted as he prepared to play a shot (you just don’t do that in golf) and some idiots seemed more keen to abuse their opponents than support their own players. It seemed strange that Keegan Bradley, the American Captain made no effort to call out his own errant supporters. Yet it was perhaps not surprising in a country where public models of leadership hardly encourage moderation and restraint.

Of course, we are used to this kind of thing in football stadiums in the UK, but golf has somehow always felt different. Football is a fast-paced, hectic game with players running full tilt for just 90 minutes and so it’s understandable that emotions get high and passions flare. Golf is more measured. It takes time, has always laid a great stress on etiquette, following the rules and respecting your opponent. Yet none of that seemed to matter in the bearpit of Bethpage.

To be fair, European fans get pretty partisan when the Americans come here - yet they do seem to stop short of personal vitriol. It seems every time the Ryder Cup is played, the rivalry just gets a notch higher. You just have to hope they rein it in in Adare in Ireland in two years’ time. As the match reached its climax, players (on both sides) leapt about like wild things, thumping their chests like cavemen on winning a point. The crowd hollered their lungs out, or continued hurling insults at the opposition.

I found myself wondering why all this seemed to matter so much? Why were grown (mostly) men reduced to appalling behaviour or breaking down in tears over hitting a small white ball around a field?

Maybe I’m just getting old and nostalgic, but Ryder Cups in the early days were different, with those grainy black and white photos of players in baggy plus-fours and tartan socks. It was the same with Wimbledon before the Open era, Wembley Cup finals back in the day, cricket matches with baggy flannels and thin bats. At the end of titanic struggles there would be a gentle skip towards the opposition, a polite shaking of hands, a wave to the cheering crowds and the presentation of the cup, which was held aloft briefly, before everyone went home. Yes, of course, people got steamed up about sport back then. The 'bodyline' cricket series in Australia in 1932 got the blood boiling between Aussies & Poms, but it was precisely because the English team were playing unfair. There were street parties and public joy when England won the World Cup in 1966, yet there is the famous story of Geoff Hurst after scoring a hat-trick in the Final going home and mowing his lawn the day after. Hard to imagine that today.

Nowadays, the presentation ceremony goes on forever, with microphones thrust into players’ faces with the most boringly predictable question: “how do you feel having won (or lost)?” asked every single time. Emotion pours out everywhere. Superlatives are expected and duly uttered.

My mind went back to something the theologian James K. A. Smith said to me in a conversation some time ago. “When there is no longer any Ultimate”, he said, “the Penultimate seems to matter so much more.” His point was that in the absence of a general social belief in God, or a divine order above us, with little sense of any social or divine sanction for, frankly, atrocious behaviour, then things like politics or sport become more and more charged with meaning.

When there is nothing higher than politics, electoral victory becomes all-important. And anything goes in silencing the opposition. When the most significant thing in life is a sporting achievement - even vicariously as a fan - then winning is everything. Where there is a more pervasive sense of belief in God, or an afterlife, where the death of friends or neighbours is a more common occurrence throughout life, or even the task of putting food on the table is a daily struggle, such things matter less. Activities such sport, which were once seen as mildly significant, a pleasant diversion from more onerous tasks, found their true place as something important, but not that important.

Blaise Pascal once wrote: “People are bored stiff with their normal lives and so they need perils and excitement.” He thought that we crave distraction to stop us looking into the abyss, or up into the heavens, to contemplate the ultimate meaning of our lives, the reason why we are here in the first place, and our final destiny. It is classic displacement activity. It is why we pay entertainers more than doctors, vicars or philosophers - because we need the distraction.

The Penultimate begins to matter too much when we no longer have an Ultimate to relate to. Sinking a clutch putt to win a game is satisfying. Yet it is not the reason why we exist. Sport is a great diversion. But it is just that, and realising that might make us behave a bit better towards our opponents and help us to focus on the things that really matter – the questions of meaning and purpose that humans have always asked since the dawn of our race.

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