From the sun-drenched dunes of North Africa to the opulent skylines of the Gulf, the United Arab Emirates (UAE) has woven an intricate tapestry of influence stretching across the Arab world and beyond. This ambitious choreography of power unfolded in the wake of the Arab Spring, which served as a stirring catalyst for such a significant shift.
Earlier this month, tensions heightened as Sudan’s government launched legal proceedings against the UAE, alleging “complicity in genocide” amidst the Sudanese civil conflict. This claim, steeped in gravitas, reveals an uncomfortable truth about a network that Abu Dhabi discreetly supports. Among its nodes is the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), a non-state actor whose violent sway continues to challenge Sudan’s governance.
The RSF is not an isolated case. Over the past decade, the UAE has deftly cultivated a suite of non-state actors, extending its geopolitical reach. Whether in Libya, Yemen, Sudan, or Somalia, Abu Dhabi’s proxies have been likened to modern-day Trojan horses, weaving influence beneath the surface across regions deemed essential to Emirati national interest.
Paradoxically, while the rulers of Abu Dhabi yearn for robust states, their alliances with non-state strongmen have arguably loosened the threads of sovereignty across the region. What might have initially seemed like a safeguard against the chaos of revolutionary fervor is now a sprawling network of control, cloaked in the guise of counter-revolutionary strategy.
Historically, as a small, resource-rich nation, the UAE has needed to rely on surrogates to bridge its capability gaps. This reliance only deepened as the sands shifted post-Arab Spring. Seeking to convert petrodollars into influence, Abu Dhabi discovered surrogates as effective conduits for their ambitions, containing revolutionary currents threatening the status quo from the Levantine shores to the Persian Gulf.
This mission against revolutionary influences saw a primary target: the Muslim Brotherhood, alongside an array of Islamist non-state actors poised to redefine the post-uprisings landscape. It brings to mind the poignant words of Winston Churchill, “Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.” Indeed, this axiom echoed ominously for the UAE in its stance against the ideological wave sweeping across borders.
Central to this narrative are the leaders of Abu Dhabi – the influential Bani Fatima. This trifecta, composed of Mohammed, Mansour, and Tahnoon bin Zayed, swiftly maneuvered power dynamics within a federation of seven emirates under their steady and strategic hands. The Bani Fatima leveraged financial prowess to transform Abu Dhabi into the Emirati epicenter of influence, bolstering the state’s position on regional and global stages.
They are not merely leaders but architects of a paradigm, establishing shadow infrastructures to churn out strategic investments and wield influence with deft precision. This role assumes a startling similarity to that of a spider weaving a web – intricate, deliberate, and ultimately ensnaring its prey.
Yet these webs extend far beyond mere geopolitics. Underpinning Abu Dhabi’s broad network are trade ties, logistic operations, and financial conduits that form the lifeblood of their surrogates. These connections offer intriguing juxtapositions – nodes that function with surprising autonomy in a horizontally linked sphere, while Abu Dhabi remains the central axis coordinating this intricate ensemble.
This approach to regional politics finds parallels in history, akin to the Medici of Florence who once bankrolled kingdoms. Abu Dhabi’s financial contours echo a time where influence could be both bought and sold, setting the scene for geopolitical purchases of sorts.
As this network of non-state actors has expanded, diverse theaters like Libya have seen firsthand the unfolding of these strategies. Khalifa Haftar’s rise to power provided a tantalizing proxy for Abu Dhabi—a tool to mold regional narratives, albeit not always a flawless fit for Emirati aspirations.
This intricate game isn’t limited to warfare. Abu Dhabi’s focus on maritime chokepoints, like in Yemen, demonstrates a surgical precision in securing routes for strategic depth, circumventing more traditional forms of engagement both militarily and diplomatically. Their engagement in Aden through entities such as the Security Belt Forces and Southern Transitional Council underscores this precision.
In essence, this strategic ballet Abu Dhabi performs across the Arab world is as much a play for time as it is for immediate advantage. Here in Yemen, they capitalize on the chaos by fortifying the Southern Cause—an element of divide and rule that speaks volumes of patience as a geopolitical virtue.
In Somalia, the UAE’s maneuvers have followed a similar script, albeit with unique local embellishments. By fostering connections directly with regional authorities rather than engaging solely with Mogadishu, they effectively tailor influence, eschewing traditional hierarchies in favor of a subtler orchestration.
Standing back for a broader view, the UAE’s expansive network reveals not just an intricate web of power but a calculated interdependence—leveraging both overt and covert means to solidify its standing. Like a jigsaw puzzle, every piece has a place, with each surrogate precisely where it serves the strategic aims best.
The UAE maintains its broader strategic interests by cultivating this highly entangled state of affairs—not merely as a fortress built upon proxies but as an indispensable player in an intertwined global field. Made in Abu Dhabi, this Middle Eastern narrative stands as a testament to the art of strategic statecraft in the 21st century.
Consider this: In a world where smaller states often risk marginalization, could the UAE’s track be a model for strategic resilience? Or does it underscore the precarious balance between control and chaos?
As we close this narrative, one is left pondering the reach and potential repercussions of such extensive engagement. And in a world so interconnected, what ripples might yet emanate from Emirati shores?
Edited By Ali Musa
Axadle Times International–Monitoring.
