Hope turns to doubt, then gunfire, as new Saudi megacity emerges

Tribune Content Agency

When Saudi Arabia’s Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman unveiled plans for Neom, a futuristic megacity on the Red Sea coast, residents rejoiced. Jobs and investment would surely accompany the $500 billion development at the center of the young leader’s plan to transform his conservative kingdom.

But as Neom pushed forward with plans to resettle thousands of people to make way for the project, optimism gave way to uncertainty, then resistance. Some members of the Huwaitat tribe that lives in the area refused to leave. Months of tensions culminated in a deadly shootout recently with security forces, sparking worries over the potential for unrest in a remote region where gun ownership is common.

“People here have lost trust,” said a Saudi with close ties to the area, speaking on condition of anonymity for fear of retribution. “They had high hopes for business, investment and compensation, but with time, doubt has seeped into their souls.”

The troubles in Neom aren’t expected to derail Prince Mohammed’s signature project. Yet the rare pushback underlines the domestic challenges he faces at a time of global turmoil and collapsing oil prices even as he presses on with changes that touch every aspect of life in the kingdom.

The 34-year-old heir to the throne has taken big steps to overhaul Saudi Arabia’s economy and loosen social restrictions, winning over many Saudis by convincing them he’s committed to bettering their country. But the prince has also gained a reputation for hubris and rashness: shattering delicate domestic balances, shaking old alliances and burning bridges at home and abroad. Domestic and foreign investors have balked as he’s detained relatives, jailed female activists and led a five-year war in Yemen that’s helped create the world’s worst humanitarian crisis. The story of Neom began in 2015, shortly after his father became king. The prince, then relatively unknown, was thinking about a new “commercial and economic capital,” he later told Bloomberg. He already had a location in Saudi Arabia’s northwest in mind.

He unveiled the plan in 2017, after pushing aside a cousin to become heir to the throne. A symbol of the prince’s ambitions for life after oil, it was to be a metropolis unlike any other in the world, built from scratch and run through with artificial intelligence.

“You have no one there, so the regulations will be based on the needs of companies and the investors,” he said at the time.

But there were people there. Located on a turquoise bay at the heart of the area set aside for the project, the sleepy fishing village of Khurayba is a cluster of concrete homes and spartan restaurants; electricity didn’t arrive until the 1980s. During a visit by Bloomberg last summer, many residents said they were excited to be part of the project.

“We were forgotten people,” Abdulaziz Al Huwaity, 40, said at the time. “This project came like a dream we couldn’t have dreamed of — more than we could imagine.”

Even then, some people were already worried by rumors they’d be relocated. The backlash didn’t begin until January, however, when Prince Fahad bin Sultan — governor of the Tabuk region where Neom is located — told residents they’d have to hand over their property in exchange for compensation, three people familiar with the matter said.

Criticism on social media followed swiftly, with a hashtag spreading against resettlement.

“We were looking forward to good things, and then overnight the truth of this project came out,” read one of the first posts on Twitter, made from an anonymous account. “Things became clear; they want the land without the people.”

The National Program for Community Development in the Regions — which manages the relocation process — and the government’s Center for International Communication didn’t respond to requests for comment.

In mid-January, videos surfaced on social media from a confrontation between an unidentified official and dozens of residents, some shouting that they refused to be relocated. The state, they said, was potentially “uprooting an entire tribe” — a contentious proposition in an area where honor is closely tied to concepts of homeland and tribal origin.

Expropriation notices were posted soon after in the kingdom’s official gazette. Landowners in Khurayba and other towns were given a month to present their deeds to authorities. Several resettlement opponents were arrested over the following months, according to two of the people who spoke on condition of anonymity.


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