On the twenty-first day of the US-Israeli war on Iran, with Iran now targeting GCC countries in retaliation, we are drawn into the center of a regional conflict. Yet, life here continues with unsettling normalcy. Sirens sound, news circulates, but the streets stay busy, and people maintain their routines. We are reminded how fragile welfare is.
In the last 60 years, the GCC populations have expanded fortyfold, and countries have built modern cities with extraordinary ambition. These cities are equipped with state-of-the-art infrastructure, abundant energy, and cityscapes that rival any on earth. Still, behind this prosperity lies profound vulnerability. Desalination plants remain the sole source of water for millions, even as the threat of sabotage hangs over critical infrastructure. The lesson is becoming impossible to ignore: a city should only grow as large as its water reserves can sustain !
International opposition to the war is rising, and deep Pan-Arab sentiment now aligns with anyone opposing the Israeli regime. This created tension with some expats and could pose a challenge to local governments. Other highly qualified Expats begin to quietly leave. Cities should reassess their technical and infrastructural dependencies; The war exposes that immigrants are gifts, but immigration as a demographic strategy creates vulnerability !
Interestingly, the long-criticized low-density urbanization in GCC cities now appears to be an unexpected advantage. Sprawling cities with sparse populations mean that missiles and drones face different calculations of destruction than they would in more densely packed cities. High density proves beneficial, but not during wartime !
Meanwhile, while driving on the First Ring Road recently, I came across a painful scene: the damaged headquarters of the Public Institution for Social Security, which had been hit by a missile fragment. The view of the burned tower offers a sharp contrast to the ambitions of skyscrapers in a region known for its world-renowned landmarks and high-rise competition. In wartime, the tower is no longer a landmark, but a target. Working or living in them is considered more dangerous, and they pose a challenge for emergency teams. In wartime, towers turned out to be a useless burden !
Technology has also revealed its limits. Adapted apps, payment platforms, and digital conveniences have always formed a layer built upon stability, not the foundation itself. When conflict began, this distinction stood out unmistakably.
The war underscores the importance of the human and the local. In times of crisis, it is clear that people matter more than platforms. Immediately, we recognized the value of neighbors—those who share sirens and a stairwell. The neighborhood, humanity’s oldest settlement unit, stands as something technology cannot replicate. War reminds us to know and value our neighbors !
Additionally, the war has shifted our understanding of home, making accessibility and centrality essential for survival. A well-located home now holds value for its protection, access, and resilience, not for its aspirations.
Lastly, war strips cities down to their essentials and forces us to confront what we have long taken for granted. Amenities like Water, shelter, community, and proximity are not mere conveniences but the architecture of survival. This moment of reckoning is not unique in history, but it arrives with particular importance for cities built on the assumption of permanent stability. Maybe the deepest lesson of this war is not strategic or political, but fundamentally human: that the measure of a city was never its skyline, but its resilience, and that resilience was never found in its buildings and infrastructures, but in the people who live between them.
