For a city ludicrously described as a “ghost town” in British media this week, Dubai looks surprisingly busy.
Ceasefire has brought a resumption of some of the normal rhythms of life – increased traffic flows, people at their desks, and going out socially once more. I took the pulse of the city as it emerged from its metaphorical drone-shelter.
Dinner at the splendid Cullinan steak-house in Marsa Al Arab last weekend was busy, even hectic – the kind of well-upholstered, well-lubricated evening that suggests a city entirely at ease with itself.
A drinks reception at Capital Club Dubai in DIFC was as well attended as ever, the room full, the conversations animated, the usual choreography of networking unfolding as if nothing much had happened.
Morning coffee at the Arts Club midweek felt similarly familiar – the low hum of transactional and social exchange, though the “ladies who lunch” had in the main been replaced by the “men who manage”, talking recovery strategies.
The roads have begun to fill again. DIFC, which not so long ago felt eerily hollowed out while missiles were flying, is edging back towards hectic. Not quite the old intensity, but enough to suggest that the reflex of normality is a powerful one in this city.
Beneath this return to normality, there is a different conversation taking place. One that surfaces in between courses, or over coffee, or in the quieter corners of a crowded room.
It is always the same subject: not the war itself, but what comes next.
The top item of conversation on the agenda is the economic impact to come. There is a growing sense, not yet fully articulated but widely shared, that the real impact of the past few weeks has not yet been fully felt.
One consultancy, Capital Economics, suggested this week that Gulf economies could face a contraction of between 5 and 10 percent this year – a striking number, and one that has reverberated through financial and business circles.
Others prefer a more optimistic framing. Fadi Ghandour, the veteran regional entrepreneur, spoke recently of the “hockey stick effect” – a sharp downturn followed by an equally sharp recovery, beginning perhaps as early as the third quarter.
It is an appealing image. Dubai, after all, has built a reputation on its ability to bounce back.
But between now and that hoped-for upturn lies a more uncertain period.
There is talk of an “early summer” – a quiet season brought forward, as events are postponed and travel patterns shift. The Arabian Travel Market, a reliable fixture of the spring calendar, has been rescheduled for August. That, in itself, tells a story.
What is really missing are the tourists.
A midweek visit to the Jumeirah Beach Hotel – the archetypal Dubai fun palace – had a spectral quality. The vast public spaces – usually animated with the churn of international guests – were eerily deserted, like the Mary Celeste.
Nearby, the decision by Jumeirah Group to close the Burj Al Arab for refurbishment can be read in more than one way. It is a long-awaited upgrade, of course, but also an opportunistic use of a moment when demand is softer than usual – a chance to take capacity offline without too much immediate cost, which is smart business.
None of this amounts to a full-blown crisis. The city is functioning and its infrastructure is intact. Next week, schools go back to in-person learning – an event greeted by equal measures of joy and despondency in my home.
It all says “open for business”, if not quite “business as usual” – yet.
What Dubai is experiencing now is something more ambiguous – a kind of economic and psychological limbo. The shock of the conflict has passed, but its consequences have not yet fully arrived.
That tension is reflected in the conversations. There is resilience, certainly, and no shortage of confidence in the city’s long-term prospects. But there is also caution – a recognition that the global environment has shifted in ways that may not be easily or quickly reversed.
The hope, widely shared, is that the “hockey stick” materialises by the end of the year, the downturn gives way to a familiar surge of activity, investment and growth.
But for now, Dubai finds itself in a more unusual place: not in crisis, but not entirely at ease either. A city that looks and feels normal in many respects – but is waiting for what the future brings.
Frank Kane is Editor-at-Large of AGBI and an award-winning business journalist. He acts as a consultant to the Ministry of Energy of Saudi Arabia


