Grandeur, Mind Control, Trump: Why Architecture In The Gulf Is So Political

-Analysis-

CAIRO — When you’re in the Gulf, architecture is never just architecture.

Consider the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque in Abu Dhabi, completed in 2007, with more than 1,000 columns, 82 domes and the world’s largest hand-knotted carpet. It is a stunning architectural feat. But it is also a statement that goes far beyond aesthetics or its daily religious function.

The mosque, named after the United Arab Emirates’ founding father, is a symbol of unity, legitimacy and heritage. Its marble-clad surfaces and fusion of Mughal, Moorish and Arab styles don’t just evoke Islamic tradition; they signal a modern state rooted in religious identity, yet eager to be seen as global and cosmopolitan.

Building projects in the region are not only functional but deeply political.

Yes, in this part of the world in particular, architecture is increasingly wielded as a form of soft power, a symbolic language through which these Middle Eastern states tell stories about themselves to the world and to their own citizens. Whether it is a soaring minaret, a futuristic skyline, or an urban master plan stretching into the desert, building projects in the region are not only functional but deeply political.

Or put another way, Gulf governments use architecture to engineer collective memory, define national identity and project political authority.

The religious space is politicized — not through sermons, but through stone and steel.

In Qatar, the Al-Mujadilah Mosque, inaugurated in 2024, offers a subtler yet equally significant political gesture than the Grand Mosque of Abu Dhabi. It is the first mosque in the region exclusively designed for women, including prayer spaces, a library and learning centers. Situated in Education City, a complex that also houses branches of American universities, this mosque doubles as a monument to female empowerment, knowledge and the merging of Islamic and Western influences.

In both examples, the religious space is politicized — not through sermons, but through stone and steel. Gulf mosques, once modest and community-built, are now multi-million-dollar state-sponsored projects. They are also tools of narrative control, constructed to reflect the leadership’s vision of what Islam should look like in the Gulf: tolerant, apolitical and proudly national.

Megaprojects as manifestos

But it is not only mosques that are shaped by — and shaping — politics. The Gulf is in the midst of a construction boom unprecedented in the region. Megaprojects — defined as developments costing more than $1 billion — have become central to the region’s economic and political strategy. From Saudi Arabia’s Neom planned city to Oman’s Duqm Special Economic Zone, these ventures promise more than just infrastructure. They promise transformation.

Neom is a blueprint for weaning the Kingdom off oil dependence.

Neom, Saudi Arabia’s $500 billion city of the future, is a case in point. Planned as a linear city of 170 kilometers (105 miles) long, with no cars and powered entirely by renewable energy, it is the architectural embodiment of Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman’s Vision 2030 — a blueprint for weaning the Kingdom off oil dependence and modernizing its society.

Yet Neom is also controversial. Its construction has involved the displacement of the Huwaitat tribe, sparking concerns about land rights and forced evictions. Its futuristic aesthetic — glass towers rising from the desert — symbolizes a break from the past, but also a top-down approach to development.

Every gallery, every projection, every architectural flourish is part of a larger narrative.

Meanwhile in Qatar, the National Museum designed by Jean Nouvel draws on the shape of the desert rose. It’s a poetic nod to nature, but also a tightly curated journey through Qatar’s past, present and future. Every gallery, every projection, every architectural flourish is part of a larger narrative: Qatar as a sovereign, progressive and culturally rich nation. It is a museum, yes, but also a nation-building exercise.

In Bahrain, the Pearling Path in Muharraq has taken a different route. Here, architecture is used to restore and reclaim. A UNESCO World Heritage site, the project connects a series of restored buildings tied to Bahrain’s historic pearling economy. The aim is preservation, but also placemaking — a participatory process for shaping public space. Public spaces are carved out to reconnect Bahrainis with a shared past, one that predates oil. In a region obsessed with the future, this return to heritage is a political act in itself .

Constructing obedience, curating memory

The politics of architecture in the Gulf are not only about what is built, but what is erased. Traditional neighborhoods have been razed to make way for high-rises and luxury developments. Informal community spaces have been replaced by shopping malls and luxury hotels. In Riyadh, the demolition of historic neighborhoods like Al-Qarayyat to pave the way for Vision 2030’s “New Riyadh” initiative has raised concerns about cultural erasure.

In many Gulf cities, public squares are rare and protest is virtually impossible.

Public space is increasingly privatized or securitized. In many Gulf cities, public squares are rare and protest is virtually impossible. Parks are fenced, monitored and curated to ensure compliance with social norms. Surveillance cameras dot even pedestrian-friendly developments like Msheireb in Doha or Boulevard Riyadh City. Architecture here disciplines as much as it dazzles.

Building projects also, of course, embody the region’s growing international prominence as a place to do business, with no better recent example than last month’s confirmation that Donald Trump’s family will invest $3 billion in a Qatari project to build a giant luxury resort project in the Simaisma area, about 40 kilometers (25 miles) north of Doha.

Trump sees the region as key to geopolitics, and a gold mine for both American and his own family interests. The region’s leaders see these projects — including plans to build a new seaside Trump Tower hotel in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia — as a showcase for their own global standing.

Erasure and spectacle

These architectural spectacles mask a deeper contradiction. The Gulf’s skylines showcase openness, yet its public discourse is tightly controlled. According to Freedom House, all six Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) countries rank as “Not Free,” with limited press freedom and constrained civil liberties. Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates and Qatar have all arrested critics of major national projects, including journalists and academics.

What emerges from this landscape is not just a new city, but a new citizen: loyal, proud and looking up at glass towers in admiration, not dissent.

Architecture, in this context, becomes a mechanism not just for storytelling, but for silencing. It replaces the messiness of political debate with the neatness of design. In doing so, it makes the state’s vision not only visible, but inevitable.

What emerges from this landscape is not just a new city, but a new citizen: loyal, proud and looking up at glass towers in admiration, not dissent. Whether such a citizen — as citizen, not subject — can exist in reality — and for how long — remains the region’s central unanswered question.