For me, this vision was one of my last glimpses of Dubai before jetting away to a new addition to my world tour: India. As such, this vantage point was ideal for reflecting on the urban landscape that forms this strange and fascinating city. Perhaps most striking from here is just how linear Dubai is. Despite recent efforts to expand into the desert with Meydan City, Dubailand (which I hear is permanently on hold due to funding shortages), International City, and other such developments, the majority of the city is still along Sheikh Zayed Road, and that doesn’t look to change any time soon. It is strange to think that as recently as about 30 years ago, none of this existed. Back then, the city was confined to the Bur Dubai and Deira areas with Bedouin encampments dotting the sands around the city and shifting over time. Due to its function as a trading hub, Dubai had developed along the mouth of the Dubai creek only—the perfect spot to anchor and offload dhows from Oman, Iran, or other nations. No other land was needed and none would have been advantageous to own. The wealthy lived near or along the creek and the markets naturally sprung up right near the ports. This Dubai was organic—it had developed with demand in a logical, ordered manner that facilitated moving between homes and shops easily and comfortably even in the intense summer heat. Narrow, shaded alleys ran between buildings cooled by the wind and insulated with thick sandstone and mud walls to keep out the heat on summer days.
From this small fishing village, a vision was created to transform Dubai from a local trading hub to an international center. To set this plan in motion, a road was laid to Abu Dhabi thereby linking the two emirates conveniently; this road was honored with the name of the man who united the UAE, the late Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan al Nahyan. After this, an international shipping port was constructed just outside of the bounds of Bur Dubai where it would not interfere with the city but would still be easily accessible.
Over time as developers and businesses began eyeing Dubai for improvement, the natural choice was to build along Sheikh Zayed Road as it was rapidly becoming busy with traffic to and from the capital of the UAE. Over the next several decades, buildings sprouted from the sand all along the highway with homes taking up the beachfront behind them. The port that once was at the edge of the city now was surrounded by villas and other high-end developments that likely would gladly encroach on its now valuable land if possible, making its location less than ideal. As developers carved up the desert and more money rolled in, the projects became more adventurous and less connected to each other. Because builders were constructing for a vehicular population, they did not need to consider how people would move from space to space—the answer was always the car. Furthermore, each would purchase a large plot to develop for themselves which was often not only independent of the land around, but also often surrounded by competitors’ developments. This allocation of space may have further disincentivized connectivity simply because it would mean working with your competition. From the top of Burj Khalifa, the results of this are apparent. The bounds of Downtown Dubai are defined by the construction along the roads laid by Emaar whereas nearby Business Bay seems unconnected as its buildings face the artificial lake that gives the development its name. Further down, development parks can be identified by their separating roads, building orientations, and more or less “dead” spaces between. Though hard to see from the Burj, Dubai Internet City is clearly insulated from neighboring Media City by the arrangement of parking lots acting as a moat between the DIC buildings (all of which look inward to face a little lake) and the DMC buildings along the access roads.
The problem with this mode of development is simply that when you develop along a line like this, you are stuck. You have nowhere to go but further down the line and then it just becomes hard to get between points in the city. If you are at one end of Dubai, it could be 30 km along Sheikh Zayed Road to get to where you would like to have dinner. There is no other way to go and no shortcut to be taken. Dubai experienced this painful reality about 5 years ago when traffic got so bad that it could take 3 hours to get from work to home merely because everyone was on the only road they could use at the same time. Smaller side roads would clog as well with travelers trying to avoid the traffic. Unfortunately, if too many people have this seemingly bright idea, it loses its luster amid the brakelights flashing on all roads that traverse the city.
The problem was compounded by the fact that in allowing developers to carve up Dubai, Sheikh Zayed Road provided a natural boundary for developments. The satellite cities of Emaar and Nakheel would always lie on one side or the other with no incentive to connect plots across Sheikh Zayed. Therefore, if you worked on one side and lived on the other, even if you could see your house from your office, it might be necessary to fight the traffic on the highway just to get far enough in one direction where you could make a U-turn across one of the few perpendicular roads and go back down the highway to your exit on the correct side. Walking was often impossible unless you wanted to brave an illegal crossing with drivers at times speeding close to 200 km/hr. The Fairmont Hotel realized that they could increase their appeal to visitors to the World Trade Center if they, at their own expense, built a footbridge across the highway. Until the advent of the Metro, this was the only easy way to cross Sheikh Zayed Road on foot.
It doesn’t take a lot of thinking to see how damaging environmentally this form of urban design is. The requirement of cars just to move around short distances in the city creates large amounts of emissions, the quantity of which is compounded by hours of traffic jams. Cars were adopted readily in Dubai as a way of beating the heat to and from work, especially in the newer developments where spread out areas left walkways open to the sun and therefore uncomfortable most of the year. After all, no one wants to arrive at a meeting or the office drenched in sweat from the walk to work. Yet the side effect was that as developers relied on car transportation they compounded the problem. People were forced to drive farther to get to and from work, creating more traffic and emissions. The lack of connectivity should citizens decide to talk a stroll also meant that cars were necessary.
What is not as apparent to many, especially those in the cars, is how this is not just damaging environmentally but also socially for a city. For those who choose not to drive for one reason or another (myself included), car-centered urban designs are alienating and difficult to navigate. There is often no good way to get from one place to the next and if sidewalks do exist, there is nothing to hold the attention of the pedestrian. There are few coffee shops or stores between destination areas (like Burj Khalifa, the lake of Internet City, or the Marina walk) that would provide a respite from the heat meaning that you have no choice but to suffer the 30 or 45 minute walk in one attempt even on the hottest days. Having such stores could incentivize walking, but without them, the walk is lonely and lacks human contact—all you can do is avoid the cars that swerve a bit too close to the curb in an attempt to save a minute in their journey. Another advantage of having such visual and auditory attractions for walkers is that the strolls seem shorter and more pleasant. Without distractions from the thought of reaching your destination, you are constantly focused on how far the next block is, how much longer it is until you arrive, and when the monotony will end. Anyone who has taken a cross-country road trip with kids I’m sure will realize the same symptoms in the car when passing through cornfields—the groaning of “Are we there yet?” intensifies without anything to hold the interest of the passengers.
What is sad is that this departure seems to be a trend of the modern city. In an attempt to create a paragon of modernity, many cities are abandoning their old pedestrian oriented modes of development for the car-centered world of LA. In Shanghai, for example, though much of the city is a good, networked urban center, the new area of Pudong is alien to pedestrians. Gates and fences hide industrial and office parks away from the sidewalk and render journeys around the city on foot unpleasant and long. In Dubai the effect is similar. The older areas of Deira and Bur Dubai show the way cities used to develop whereas the gleaming towers along Sheikh Zayed Road epitomize the new, the modern, and the car-centered. Though there may be walkable parks within each destination, until you get there you are confined to the world of the private auto.
While the Metro in Dubai helps alleviate this car-centered mindset (and the mounting automobile emissions), it doesn’t help the fact that you still cannot walk between destinations. If you can’t or don’t drive, you can ride the Metro or the buses, but again, this is required even for short distances. Try walking from Financial Center to the Dubai Mall, and aside from having to cross several broad streets, you will find that there is nothing of interest but non-descript high-rise after non-descript high-rise. It is a boring walk and seems much longer than it really is. Now imagine if this were a thriving center of cafes, shops, and people at the base of these high-rises with trees dotting the sidewalk. That would make it much more pleasant and even an experience not to be missed.
Perhaps the saddest part of the rapid adoption of modern, car-centered cities around the world is that it contributes to the striation of society into the haves and have-nots. The car has become a status symbol, especially in Dubai, and an object that liberates you from the requirement of living in older, better networked cities. You have the freedom to live in a new tower or villa even if it is in the middle of the desert because you can drive—who cares if there is nothing in walking distance. The result is an inverse relationship between walkability of neighborhoods and income in Dubai. As those with money and cars flocked to the new, modern developments where they could not only use but show off their cars, the older areas were given over to the lower income immigrant populations that need the services Deira and Bur Dubai offer along every street just to survive. In the time before the Metro, if you lived along Sheikh Zayed without a car, it must have been a chore just to get to and from work and buy groceries. And then if you tried to socialize in the evenings too, it either would be very expensive to ride in taxis everywhere or you would have to be careful never to stay out past the time of the last bus home.
The truth is that development doesn’t have to just be one mode or the other—you don’t need just a car centric modern city or a mid-rise networked urban center. Good mixed-use development that hides parking areas to make shops and communal spaces accessible from both parking lots and sidewalks can combine the culture of the car and the pedestrian into one usable space. Developers in Dubai just need to escape the mindset that they are building only for the community that drives to their destination. They need to begin to see that connecting the towers with walkable lanes and enjoyable public spaces would help the citizens, especially those who can’t drive, but also could garner higher rents due to increased traffic in retail spaces. After all, some of the highest rent properties in Shanghai are along Nanjing Road where mixed-use office and residential towers feature prominent shopping spaces for pedestrians at their feet. As the work day finishes, occupants need only step on the street to find it illuminated and welcoming for a relaxing evening. No driving necessary.
So if you are in Dubai and head to the top of Burj Khalifa, aside from being astounded by the remarkable height of the building—an engineering marvel in itself—take some time to look at the streets below. I challenge you to find pedestrians (if they aren’t invisible from the height of the building) among the cars racing down Sheikh Zayed. Give some thought to how different Dubai could be if it only incorporated a few more connected walking spaces. Not every street perhaps can be one, but what if all of that development that stretches along the sands were condensed, built up, and formed into a combined car and pedestrian environment. If you get the chance afterward, take a stroll (if you’re ambitious) or a ride down Jumeira Beach Road and notice how few shops line this beachfront street. Here could be another shopper’s paradise given the breezes, the proximity to the ocean, and the density of villas on all sides. Yet here again, a road built for cars makes even the few cafes and shops here feel isolated and alien. Across the world cities are beginning to realize that highways through their urban core destroy social life. Seoul has spent millions to remove its highway and create a vibrant water space in the city while Boston eliminated a divisive road with its Big Dig. Perhaps one day Dubai too will realize that Sheikh Zayed Road has outlived its usefulness in bringing an economic boom to the region and will replace it with a more human-oriented space. Until then, marvel at it from the world’s highest building, and reflect on how quickly the city fades to sand as you move away from the highway.
There are many tourist destinations and attractions that you can indulge in Dubai such as the Burj Khalifa, the Burg Al Arab Hotel, and The Jumeirah Beach hotel and so on.
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