Kuwait ponders a future after fossil fuels

Kuwait City skyline

Kuwait is an oil country, and Kuwait City glows with prosperity. Kuwaitis know, though, that they can't ride the oil train forever.

Earlier this month, I took part in a program of the Kuwait Bar Association (KBA) and International Association of Lawyers (UIA) in Kuwait on the mediation of energy disputes. (All photos RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0.)

Kuwait Bar Association (Society of Lawyers)

The program addressed both state and corporate actors, which often in the Middle East are functionally the same, as political royals are only formally differentiated from their investments. Iraq invaded Kuwait in 1990 largely in response to long-running disputes over access to oil reserves under the countries' desert border. So it's understandable that Kuwait, powered by a 70-year-old, $1tn sovereign wealth fund born almost entirely of oil revenue, is an eager evangelist for non-violent dispute resolution in extractive industries.

Kuwait Towers

I spent some additional time in Kuwait, besides the KBA-UIA program, to see the sights of Kuwait City. The first place I went was the iconic Kuwait Towers. Dating to 1979, the towers were designed to be monumental more than functional, architecturally distinct among Kuwait's historical water towers, a remaining few clusters of which dot the urban landscape. Repaired since they were trashed in the Iraq invasion, and refurbished in the 2010s, the Kuwait Towers are a patriotic reminder of a Kuwait that long imported fresh water for its survival, before oil wealth paid for expensive but effective desalinization. 

Dhow model at Marine Museum

On display at the Al Hashemi Marine Museum and the Maritime Museum are Kuwaiti dhows dating to the 19th century. Some were used for pearling, the dangerous prospect but potential big score of a once seafaring economy. Many of the dhows are specially fitted with large water tanks running along the keel.

Thus imported, water historically was famously expensive in Kuwait. There's still a popular maxim that water, the truly scarce resource of the desert, is more expensive than oil. Water still is expensive, or should be, because desalinization is expensive and largely fossil fueled. 

Other legacy water towers

Government subsidies, however, obscure the cost of water. A combined utility bill in Kuwait, including water, electricity, sewer, garbage, etc., might run US$40 or $50 a month, single family—a lot for some locals, especially ex-pat laborers. But even correcting to U.S. cost of living with a 250% multiplier, utilities including water are far cheaper than in the States. Environmentalists fret over the conceit that water is inexpensive. I thought that my hotels would caution about water consumption, as is common in desert countries, not to mention American desert states, but they did not.

In keeping with the maxim, petrol is cheap. I was worried when Europcar warned me that gas stations accept only cash—until I worked out the prices. I filled up my SUV rental's 13-gallon (about 50L) tank for less than US$10.

Evening recreation at Dasman Beach

There's much to see in Kuwait City, in terms of museums and historical sites. What struck me, though, is the prevalence of western influence and a near indifference to foreign tourism. Attractions are aimed at locals. Kuwait excels at affording its people diversions of all kinds, including the educational and recreational: museums, beaches, playing fields. But the focus is decidedly domestic, bringing the world to Kuwaitis, not the other way around.

Texas Roadhouse Beneid Al Gar, one of three Kuwait City locations

Limited opening hours and a ramshackle bus system make many attractions difficult to access for visitors. Ride-share app Careem works well, though drivers speak little English. Some places' websites are in Arabic only. Besides foods, souvenirs are sorely limited: the norm is an assortment of refrigerator magnets and ball caps with cheap, afterthought patches. Walking south from Kuwait Towers on the city's corniche, the extent of Kuwait's Americanization in particular is on full display. Behind the beaches, the chain restaurants line up: TGI Friday's, the Cheesecake Factory, Texas Roadhouse.

One arm of Souq Al-Mubarakiya

Besides the beach, a favorite evening destination for locals is one of the city's many shopping malls, from the central 1,250-square-foot Assima Mall, with its gourmet Monoprix grocery, to the sprawling 334-acre (1.35m-square-meter) Avenues, with more than 1,100 retailers. Notwithstanding the scale and upscale nature of these operations, they are loaded with the sort of western retailers found on main street anywhere. There's plenty to buy, eat, and drink—besides alcohol; Kuwait is a dry country—but very little that is specially Arabian. A more touristically gratifying destination is the city's Mubarakiya Souq, though its modernized storefronts also cater mostly to local needs. The people-watching is better than the shopping.

Camels, highwayside

To see more than just the city, and also to get a closer look at both rural life and Kuwaiti infrastructure, I drove out both to the Iraq border in the north and to the Saudi border in the south. The highway network is impressive, if a work in progress, strong on asphalt, weak on road marking. Polished bridges here and there are designed for the exclusive use of crossing camels.

In both the north and the south, the desert is dotted with green patches of farms, fed, remarkably, by well water. Visiting these farms for markets of fresh produce, petting zoos, and other children's amusements is a seasonal family pastime.

Starbucks Wafra

Near the Saudi border, the town of Wafra is the center of an equine economy. Riding centers, breeding operations, and a market for export speak to the enduring importance of horses in Arabia. On Wafra's dusty outskirts, I was surprised to find a cluster of modern buildings, including a multistory veterinary center and, no kidding, the farthest flung Starbucks I've ever seen. A sign at Starbucks cautioned that horses are not permitted in the drive-thru.

Electric towers in the desert

Strung across the desert landscape is a mind-boggling network of electric towers, stretching lines into the distance from any vantage point. Kuwait imports electricity from Gulf partners such as Qatar and Oman, and even then struggles to meet demand in sweltering summers (e.g., N.Y. Times). Meeting electrical needs is simultaneously an incentive and an obstacle to Kuwait energy transition away from fossil-fuel dependence.

Change through energy transition and emission reduction was a recurring theme at the mediation program, besides the benefits and skills of mediation itself. I did not expect to hear, and am not accustomed to hearing, harsh criticism of fossil-fuel dependence in the Middle East. Yet in a session titled "The Climate Crisis and the Transition Imperative," speakers were adamant opponents of the status quo.

Panelists: Yousef Al-Abdullah; Elena Athwal, Qatar,
founder and CEO of consulting firm Icelis Global; and Sara Akbar

Moderator Sara Akbar, a chemical petroleum engineer, current CEO of Oilserv Kuwait, and a renowned figure in the modern history of Kuwaiti oil development, condemned the "New World Disorder" of Trumpian climate-change denial and on-again-off-again Paris participation. She argued passionately that the global costs of unchecked climate change, including devastated coastal cities and lost lives, will vastly outpace the costs of energy transition to renewables. According to Akbar, even the Kuwait oil industry understands that the era of fossil-fuel dominance in the Kuwait economy must end.

Akbar cited an interesting and alarming local statistic: Kuwait has long monitored the maximum temperature of the Persian Gulf at the sea floor, which reliably marked 95 or 96 degrees Fahrenheit. Now, she said, it routinely exceeds 100 degrees, evidencing the evaporation that is fueling catastrophic rainstorms from Dubai to Bangladesh.

Yousef Al-Abdullah, research scientist at the Kuwait Institute for Scientific Research, discussed the energy transition and emission reduction commitments of Gulf states. In contrast with the U.S. re-withdrawal from the Paris Agreement and Trump Administration promise to double-down on drilling, Gulf states have articulated ambitious aims.

A leader in goal-setting is the United Arab Emirates (UAE). The UAE aims for 47% reduction in greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions by 2030. In energy transition, the UAE aims for 15% renewables in its energy mix; has adopted a net-zero target, green hydrogen strategy, independent energy regulator, and national climate law; plans a massive expansion of solar capacity; and is investing more than $14 billion in transition this fiscal year.

Persian Gulf coastline from Kuwait Towers

Kuwait looks weak on the same benchmarks. But that's not the whole story, Al-Abdullah said. Kuwait believes that some neighbors have announced goals they can't realistically meet, such as the Saudi aim to cut 278m tons of annual GHG emissions by 2030, and Kuwait wants to be realistic. Notwithstanding articulated commitments on the international stage, Kuwait has announced targets domestically, Al-Abdullah said, such as net-zero in the oil sector by 2050, and in other sectors by 2060.

Oil production is down over 10 years, Al-Abdullah said, and that's problematic for environmental strategy. The economy remains dependent on fossil fuels, to the tune of 90% of revenues, and a strong economy is needed to transition away from fossil fuels. Production is down for many reasons, including OPEC restrictions; increased competition from other sources, such as Uruguay, Paraguay, Guyana, Mauritania, and Uganda; and rising production costs.

Here my observation on Kuwait's underdeveloped tourism economy is salient, at least in small part. Because Al-Abdullah said that key to Kuwait's future is diversification of the economy, reducing the dominant position of fossil fuels, especially relative to a newly developed service sector. 

In domestic policy, a national plan called "Kuwait Vision 2035" contemplates an economy centered on logistics, leveraging Kuwait's world-crossroads location by, for example, expanding airport and seaport capacity. Vision 2035 imagines a Kuwait that is more livable for residents and hospitable to visitors, expanding highways and building a rail and metro system.

Besides infrastructure, transformation of Kuwait's workforce is required, too. Kuwait suffers an affliction known to other oil-rich states, which is a comfortable, but under-skilled national workforce. Kuwait's education system must rise to meet the challenge of preparing Kuwaitis to participate in the new economy, while the social and economic fabric must expand the job market and incentivize people to enter it.

Like other Middle Eastern states, Kuwait has a worrisome dependence on foreign workers. Ex-pats, whom I mentioned above, constitute some 70% of the resident population and have no pathway to citizenship. Blue-collar workers hale especially from the Asian subcontinent and Pacific rim. Qatar's plight in this regard was highlighted and made controversial by the location of the 2022 FIFA World Cup there; whether reforms were meaningful or sufficient is debatable.

The existing service economy, including legal, financial, and engineering services, depends heavily on ex-pat white-collar workers, too, who make up a fair chunk of that 70%. At the KBA-UIA program, I met lawyers from other Arabic-speaking countries who have worked for years, even decades, in Kuwait. They are generously permitted to practice, more than an out-of-jurisdiction lawyer may in the States, on matters related to their home jurisdictions. But there's no pathway to bar admission, such as might expose the domestic market to competition.

Legal and regulatory reforms will have to complement the development of a service sector and trade center, Al-Abdullah said. I don't think Kuwaitis alone will be able to make that change. Rather, Kuwait will have to open itself up with a more robust immigration framework, affording ex-pats the likes of property and other rights, if not naturalization, to foster a justified sense of ownership in the new economy.

KOC Oil and Gas Exhibition Hall

Apropos of energy transition, one of the most interesting tourist attractions in Kuwait is the Kuwait Oil Company (KOC) Oil and Gas Exhibition. The exhibition—reservations required for guided tours only—offers an artfully constructed tour of the history of Kuwait, from its desert and seafaring cultural history, to British protectorate and the discovery of oil, rise to global energy power, and Iraq invasion, destruction, and recovery.

Exhibit dramatizing Kuwait oil extraction: every second, every day

The exhibition is decidedly a paean to oil. But it is not wholly environmentally tone-deaf. One dramatic exhibit shows, with a massive gush of black liquid, the astonishing amount of oil that Kuwait pumps from the earth every second of every day, averaged out. The exhibits don't say it plainly, but there is an undeniable implication that this business model is not indefinitely sustainable.

The next chapter of Kuwait energy policy is ready to be written.

Tchotchkes for sale at the KOC Oil and Gas Exhibition gift shop

Kuwait sign on the corniche

Civil conflict in Mali devastates innocents, while indifference, deference to Russia undermine U.S. policy

U.N. peacekeepers, here a Togolese soldier near Mopti in 2018,
provided enough security for local markets to function.
MINUSMA (UN Mission in Mali) photo via Flickr CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

The Putin-backed Wagner Group is among the aggressors responsible for ongoing violence against civilians in Mali, and the United States is sabotaging its own future by ignoring the multiplying atrocities there. 

As the Trump Administration cozies up to Russian President Vladimir Putin, apparently to redraw the borders of Europe Munich Agreement-style, it's worth remembering who our new partner in peace is. Correspondingly, U.S. withdrawal from U.N. aid operations suggests minding what it is we're withdrawing from.

A friend in central Mali, from a village so small it's not on Google Maps, but west of Bandiagara, wrote last week pleading for support for foreign intervention there. He reported civilians murdered and displaced and villages and food stores burned in the region in recent weeks. I am not naming my friend for his security, as he remains in the area.

Mali
ECHO Base Map via GetArchive, public domain

The situation is complex, as both rebel Islamist militants and government counterinsurgent forces, the latter partnered with private contractors such as "Africa Corps" né Wagner, are at war, de facto, with both sides ruthlessly victimizing civilians caught in the middle.

Human Rights Watch (HRW) confirmed in a December report:

The JNIM [al-Qaeda-linked Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wa al-Muslimeen (Group for the Support of Islam and Muslims)] has burned homes and looted livestock in Bandiagara region since June. JNIM fighters attacked several villages in the Doucombo and Pignari Bana district areas, setting over 1,000 homes on fire, stealing at least 3,500 animals, and forcing thousands of residents to flee, according to witnesses. Residents said the attacks were in apparent retaliation against communities that the JNIM accused of collaborating with [a collective self-defense militia organized to secure area villages].

Neither side in the conflict boasts a moral record. HRW reported:

Since May 2024, Malian armed forces and the Wagner Group have deliberately killed at least 32 civilians, including 7 in a drone strike, forcibly disappeared 4 others, and burned at least 100 homes in military operations in towns and villages in central and northern Mali. Two Islamist armed groups, [JNIM] and [Group for the Support] of the Islamic State in the Greater Sahara (ISGS), have summarily executed at least 47 civilians and displaced thousands .... Human Rights Watch received credible reports of hundreds more civilians killed, but due to the difficulties of conducting research in central and northern Mali, the numbers in this report are conservative. 

At the request of Malian authorities, a U.N. peacekeeping mission withdrew from Mali in December 2023 after itself coming under attack in the cross-fighting. French forces had withdrawn the previous year. The U.N. mission had been in Mali for 10 years, but its presence did not prevent two military coups in the last five years. The junta now in control of the government seems intent on extinguishing the insurgency at any cost, but it's far from clear whether either side can prevail.

The worsening situation in Mali is indicative of destabilization across west and central Africa. Military coups toppled governments in Burkina Faso in 2022 and in Niger in 2023. Now the three military governments of Burkina Faso, Niger, and Mali have withdrawn from the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS). Meanwhile, combatants' calls for U.N. withdrawal are growing in other hot spots, such as DR Congo, where rebels have taken the key city of Goma.

ECOWAS (2018)
St.Krekeler via Wikimedia Commons CC BY-SA 3.0

In my travels in West Africa, I found ECOWAS to be a profoundly stabilizing force and engine of economic development. The free trade group, formerly 15 countries, allowed fragile economies a chance to level the playing field in the global market. A common currency, the "eco," was planned to supplant and surpass the CFA franc.

Indicative of the progress made possible by ECOWAS, my friend in Mali messaged last year, keen to get the word out about his nascent tourism venture. Bandiagara is within a day's travel of Timbuktu, the UNESCO World Heritage Site that has been mostly inaccessible to outsiders for more than a dozen years because of armed conflict.

Now social and economic progress in the region is disintegrating.

To be clear, I do not contend that the United States or the United Nations should ride to the rescue with military force in Mali. Neither side in the conflict there wants western intervention, and we would sink into a lethal quicksand by merely adding a third side in the fighting.

However, diplomatic intervention to start with, and international peacekeeping later, could be vital to save generations of innocent people from murder, abuse, and starvation. I am mindful that my International Law class will soon study use of force, a unit that prompts sorrowful consideration of the western indifference that permitted the Rwandan genocide to play out unhindered.

HRW decried the conflict in Mali for both sides' utter disregard of "the laws of war." Between U.S. willingness to reward Putin's invasion of Ukraine with gained territory and a repeat of willful western blindness to the trampling of human rights in Africa, the entire project of international law that was built upon the ashes of World War II is now in jeopardy.

The Trump Administration seems content to let the United Nations fall by the wayside in favor of a transactional approach to foreign policy. Thus, for example, the key to a Trump peace plan in Ukraine, and any hope that Ukraine would recover lost territory in such a plan, seems to turn on a deal for U.S. access to rare-earth minerals in the country's east.

But it is in fact a transactional foreign policy that I suggest will suffer if we disregard Africa. Development of extractive industries—Mali has diamonds, gold, and uranium—is a desirable goal; the question is, who will benefit?

ECOWAS, after the model of the European economic community, and U.N. peacekeeping, which makes free trade possible, represent a west-leaning African future in which ordinary people benefit from development with rising standards of living. This isn't charity. The United States would benefit from vibrant, free-market commerce with an economically developed West Africa. All boats float.

In contrast, Russia seeks to expand its sphere of influence by undermining democratic participation and capturing governments with authoritarian oligarchy. That means an east-leaning African future in which ordinary people are subordinated and impoverished. The United States loses in that scenario; our only benefit from wealthier eastern oligarchs will be the sale of more prime U.S. property to foreign owners.

As the United Nations has been nothing but a thorn in the side of neo-imperial Russian ambitions, Putin would like nothing better than to put the organization to death. In corollary, he must be delighted by the demise of USAID, which represents our foreign policy leverage in Africa.

The United States lets its influence wane and turns its back on the world at its own peril.

Here is a list of NGOs, IGOs, and charities working in Mali.

Rule of law seems absent, western powers impassive, as civil war inflicts horrific suffering in Sudan

I know it's hipster hot right now to be up in arms over Gaza and lukewarm over Ukraine. I'd like for a moment to set aside both those conflicts and ask for your consideration of Sudan.

I've written previously about Sudan, from the time of development optimism that was dashed and broken by catastrophic civil war. I was enamored of the country and its people upon visiting there in 2020, and I watched the war unfold with profound sadness.

The war in Sudan rages on, so long since its April 2023 eruption that even I back-burnered it among my conscious anxieties in recent months. It was brought to the front again when I read a Friday story from NPR: Why Sudan Is Being Called a "Humanitarian Desert," by Fatma Tanis.

The story relates a report from Doctors Without Borders: "The report states that bombing and shelling of civilian areas killed thousands of people, including women and children. Civilians were consistently attacked and killed by armed groups in their own homes, at checkpoints, along displacement routes and even in hospitals and clinics."

Horrifyingly, "'a characteristic feature' of the war, the report states ... that women and girls were raped in their homes and along displacement routes. Of 135 survivors of sexual violence who were interviewed by MSF, 40% said they were assaulted by multiple attackers."

Democrats and (too many) Republicans disagree over support of Ukraine. The Republican platform specifically references Israel, and Ukraine's omission is contentiously purposive. The draft Democrat platform for 2024 mentions Israel, Ukraine, and Sudan. American involvement in the latter context looks limited to the present "Special Envoy," charged with making peace, along with a more nebulous commitment to support Africa in solving its own problems. 

I'm reminded of an exercise in university journalism class in which we examined the newspaper column-inches (these were the days of actual newspapers) afforded to global crisis reporting to witness the greater-than-linear, inverse relationship with distance from the United States. Yet, as one might have noted then, too, Khartoum is not that much farther from Washington than Tel Aviv and Kyiv.

Is our commitment to the people of Sudan sufficient? I don't purport to know what the policy of "the most developed nations" should be concerning civil war in Sudan. I do worry that prioritizing international conflicts based on strategic imperatives while paying little more than lip service to our values sends the wrong message to aggressors in a world in which nations, including the United States, are ever more inextricably interdependent.

Greenland opens new capital airport terminal, hopes to boost tourism, increase economic autonomy

I was among the first passengers at the new Nuuk terminal today.

Today a new international airport terminal opened at Nuuk, the capital of Greenland, and I was among its first passengers. (All photos by RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0.)

A couple of days ago I wrote about Greenland's autonomy from Denmark, observing that tourism and fisheries, at present levels, might not be enough to sustain the economy of an independent Greenland, notwithstanding popular support for the proposition. The new terminal and runways at Nuuk, co-located with the older facility, are a calculated measure to amp up tourism and ween off Greenland of dependence on Danish aid.

The old Nuuk GOH terminal, closed today, is adjacent to the new.

As I mentioned in my previous post, Greenland infrastructure is still marked by U.S. defensive developments during World War II. The Kingdom of Denmark was occupied by the Nazis and turned over the protection of Greenland to the United States. Part of that American legacy is the country's international airport at Kangerlussuaq, a village deep in the fjords north of Nuuk and well inland, eastward, of second-city Sisimiut. 

Constructed as a military air base in 1941, Kangerlussuaq airport was a strategic refueling point. It was therefore equipped with a runway that could handle large aircraft. After the war, and for decades since, Kangerlussuaq's capacity made it the international hub for Air Greenland.

A larger-than-most Air Greenland plane prepares to fly from Kangerlussuaq to Copenhagen.

Landing at Nuuk is not for the faint of heart.

But Kangerlussuaq makes no sense for civilian use, much less for tourism. Only about 500 people live there, compared with about 17,500 in Nuuk. So intercontinental passengers traveling to or from Nuuk, such as me today, must also make the short hop between Nuuk and Kangerlussuaq. With limited flights in and out of Greenland to begin with, the cost and inconvenience of an added leg is an impediment to the tourism market that Greenland sorely wishes to develop.

As well, the old Nuuk runway was not designed for volume or large aircraft. Because of surrounding mountains and frequent cloud cover, the approach is notoriously challenging for pilots. In fact, when I landed at Nuuk a couple of days ago on a domestic flight, my Air Greenland pilot aborted landing northbound in the dense fog. We circled round and sailed alongside snowy mountain peaks—a bit unnerving—to land in the clearer southbound direction.

New Nuuk's first guests got gift bags.

Today's opening at Nuuk is a soft one, of the terminal only. The bigger, new runways are still under construction, the old runway still in use. Intercontinental passengers such as me still must fly to Kangerlussuaq. That will change when the new Nuuk airport becomes fully operational; plans aim for later this year. In fact, the runway at Kangerlussuaq has become degraded by subsiding permafrost, and the plan is to scuttle that airport for non-military use.

The great hall of the new Nuuk airport is not yet ready for prime time. A plastic sheet covers the escalator, and limited strips of seating equipped with electrical outlets are not yet plugged in to anything. There are not yet any concessions; free coffee and breads were on offer this morning.

For the time being, all roads lead to Kangerlussuaq.

The place looks promising. Warmly enthusiastic representatives this morning awarded the terminal's first 200 passengers "Greenland Airports" "goodie bags" containing travel-size containers and "Greenland airports" luggage tags.

For now, Nuuk airport will retain its IATA code, GOH, which was derived from the Danish name for Nuuk: Godthåb, or "Good Hope."

UPDATE, Aug. 5, 2024: One of my favorite YouTube channels, the B1M, has posted an excellent video with more detail and context than I had about the expansion of Greenland's airports, albeit with production dating to 2023. If you want to learn more, I recommend B1M, How to Build an Arctic Airport, YouTube (posted July 24, 2024).

The Nuuk tarmac at GOH: new runways lie beyond the old, where a plane taxis.

Air Greenland operates a diverse fleet of planes and helicopters to connect the largely roadless country.

Greenland celebrates 'National Day,' ever growing autonomy, but dependence on Danish aid persists

Greenland flags celebrate National Day, Qaqortoq.

Yesterday I was in Qaqortoq, Greenland, for Greenland National Day, June 21. (All photos by RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0.)

Greenland is a territory of the Kingdom of Denmark. But a visitor might miss that: Greenland flags fly in all parts, and Danish ones are few. Signs increasingly employ the Greenlandic language—which Google Translate does not yet have—without a Danish translation. And though the currency remains the Danish krone, electronic transactions render notes seldom seen.

Americans built a radio station at Narsaq Point. The pictured building
is long abandoned, but the station still broadcasts.

From 1814 to World War II, Greenland was under Danish control, but not formally a part of the kingdom. When Denmark was occupied by the Nazis in World War II, the displaced Danish government signed Greenland over to the protection of the United States. Disused U.S. military installations still dot landscapes. With a new constitution for Denmark after the war, in 1953, Greenland formally became part of the kingdom.

A home rule initiative in 1979 afforded Greenland greater autonomy, but left Denmark in control of foreign affairs, banking, and the legal system. With 75% approval in a 2008 referendum, Greenland claimed further autonomy over its legal system and law enforcement. On National Day in 2009, the official language of Greenland was changed from Danish to Greenlandic.

Qaqortoq

The self-rule law of 2009 allows Greenlanders to declare full independence upon another referendum. And the Danish government has suggested that Greenlanders ought to decide one way or the other. Polls consistently suggest a comfortable majority of Greenlandic support for independence. However, it depends how one asks the question. 

As a county of Denmark, Greenland receives an annual block grant of about US$511 million, which, according to the International Trade Administration, accounts for more than half of Greenland's public budget and 20% of GDP. Greenlandic support for autonomy polls poorly if the question is qualified by a risk to the standard of living. It seems doubtful that the presently leading industries of fisheries and tourism can sustain Greenland's economy without Danish aid.

Qaqortoq "then and now" (image at left from Qaqortoq Museum)

National Day musicians at Hotel Qaqortoq

"Loading," a Nuuk mural by Greenlander Inuk Højgaard,
comments on economic migration from villages to city.

Tourism in the Nuuk fjords, aboard the ferry Sarfaq Ittuk

Parks group challenges soccer stadium under state constitutional right to environmental conservation

A Boston lawsuit pits parks against soccer, tying in knots fans of both such as me.

The Emerald Necklace Conservancy on February 20 sued the City of Boston and Boston Unity Soccer Partners to stop the redevelopment of White Stadium to host a women's professional soccer team. 

(UPDATE, Mar. 25: The Superior Court on March 22 denied injunction of the redevelopment project. E.g., WBUR.)

What's compelling about the case as a matter of urban redevelopment arises from the fact that a stadium is already there. The conservancy is not trying to get rid of it. Though there is tentative objection to the footprint of the redevelopment project in Franklin Park, the complaint focuses on the repurposing of the stadium for the benefit of private investors, to the exclusion of public use.

Everyone agrees that White Stadium is in sore need of refurbishment. The 1945 construction has a storied history going back to Black Panther rallies in the 1960s. Its present state of deterioration for age is evident. Naturally, local government is keen to link arms with private investment. Boston Unity makes a heckuva pitch (pun intended) in a town willing and able to support an entrant in the expanding National Women's Soccer League.

Site plan in complaint exhibit.

However, the project, which Boston Unity characterizes as "a first-of-its-kind public/private partnership," will exclude the public from the redeveloped area on game days. That includes the expulsion of local high school times for their 10 to 12 games per year, according to the Dorchester Reporter. At the same time, city officials say other stadium uses, such as a track, might see more public use. 

The conservancy and residents say that the project has been moving too fast for them to study and comment, and that the headlong rush violates article 97 of the Massachusetts Constitution.

That's another eyebrow-raising point in the story. Article 97 of the Massachusetts Constitution is worth a read:

The people shall have the right to clean air and water, freedom from excessive and unnecessary noise, and the natural, scenic, historic, and esthetic qualities of their environment; and the protection of the people in their right to the conservation, development and utilization of the agricultural, mineral, forest, water, air and other natural resources is hereby declared to be a public purpose.

The general court shall have the power to enact legislation necessary or expedient to protect such rights.

In the furtherance of the foregoing powers, the general court shall have the power to provide for the taking, upon payment of just compensation therefor, or for the acquisition by purchase or otherwise, of lands and easements or such other interests therein as may be deemed necessary to accomplish these purposes.

Lands and easements taken or acquired for such purposes shall not be used for other purposes or otherwise disposed of except by laws enacted by a two thirds vote, taken by yeas and nays, of each branch of the general court.

Voters approved Article 97 in 1972. That's the same year as the federal Clean Water Act, and about halfway in between the Clean Air Act and Love Canal.

The "right to a clean environment" is a hallmark of contemporary human rights discussion, sometimes grouped in with "third generation" human rights. In this sense, notionally, Massachusetts was ahead of its time.

But like statutory expressions of environmentalism, Article 97 was not understood to ground an affirmative right, rather a negative right to prevent government from repurposing conserved land without legislative approval. The Supreme Judicial Court (SJC) entertained the constraint of Article 97 in cases in 2005 and 2013, but didn't find that the local governments in those cases had dedicated land to public purposes. The SJC did constrain local government in a 2017 case. 

The 2013 and 2017 cases might prove instructive in the White Stadium matter if the case progresses. In Mahajan v. Department of Environmental Protection (Mass. 2013), the court distinguished land taken for "conservation, development and utilization of the agricultural, mineral, forest, water, air and other natural resources," which triggers Article 97, from land taken urban renewal, that is, "for the purpose of eliminating decadent, substandard or blighted open conditions." In that case, the Boston Redevelopment Authority was able to commit a part of Long Wharf in Boston Harbor to a private redevelopment project without legislative approval under Article 97.

In Smith v. Westfield (Mass. 2016), the court decided that the City of Westfield had dedicated a parcel of land, 5.3 acres comprising a playground and two little-league baseball fields, to serve as a park, so was constrained by Article 97 before the city could build a school there.

In Smith, the court opined that Article 97 would attach only "there is a clear and unequivocal intent to dedicate the land permanently as a public park and where the public accepts such use by actually using the land as a public park." The court also acknowledged that the analysis fact intensive.

On the face of it, Smith looks like the better fit with Emerald Necklace. The land is clearly dedicated to park use and has been used as a park. The baseball fields and playground in Smith show that a recreational use can include a structure, such as the stadium.

At the same time, there's a viable counterargument in the re- of the White Stadium redevelopment. The city will argue, I expect, that it's not changing the purpose of the land, i.e., its dedication to recreation. A stadium is and will remain. The city is just improving the land to do recreation better.

The problem then boils down to that "first-of-its-kind public/private partnership": whether the private end of the partnership means that the land is being "otherwise disposed of" within the meaning of Article 97.

I've written about transparency and accountability in foreign development specifically amid the challenges of privatization and quasi-privatization. So it's fascinating, if it shouldn't be surprising, to see this problem arise in my own backyard. I wonder as well whether there ever might be a future for Article 97's purported "right to clean air and water" that amounts to more than a procedural hurdle in property development.

See more about Boston's remarkable 1,100-acre Emerald Necklace park system, designed by architect Frederick Law Olmsted, with Will Lange on PBS in 2014.

The case is Emerald Necklace Conservancy, Inc. v. City of Boston, No. 2484CV00477 (filed as 24-0477) (Mass. Super. Ct. filed Feb. 20, 2024). Emerald Necklace asked for a temporary injunction. Hat tip @ Madeline Lyskawa, Law360 (subscription).

Court quashes $19m side deal in casino creation

Encore Boston Harbor, shiny and new in 2018.
Photo by Pi.1415926535 via Wikimedia Commons CC BY-SA 3.0

A $19m side deal in a major casino real estate transaction is invalid and unenforceable as a matter of public policy, the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court ruled this morning.

The ruling demonstrates the rarely seen hand but overriding importance of public policy in the law of obligations. The state high court was answering a certified question from the First Circuit.

First, some context.

For the record, nobody does corruption in America like northeasterners. It's been eye opening for me, living in this part of this country for the first time in my life, since moving here in 2011: the weird way roads and bridges remain perpetually under construction for decades—the orange barrel is said to be Rhode Island's state flower; the revolving doors that shuffle politicians between corporate boards and regulatory bodies and back again. Everywhere I've lived—"developed" world or not—I've seen the continuum of corruption that runs from smoke-filled rooms to the open-and-legal-yet-shocking. But you have to take your hat off to the New York-Boston corridor, where milking the system is a way of life. If the taxpayer is a cash cow, then this is Big Ag.

It's for that reason that I have found myself strangely attracted, like a rubbernecker to a car wreck, to everything having to do with the creation of a Wynn-operated casino complex, the Encore Boston Harbor, in the once rusty, quaint, and relatively sleepy Boston suburb of Everett. 

I liked Everett when I discovered it. It's rough around the edges, but genuine. I had to be there now and then, and I found both a corner bar and a gym I liked. Everett reminded me of the working-class neighborhoods of my hometown Baltimore. First news of a casino project in Everett broke when I arrived in New England in 2011, so I became interested in the natural social science experiment that ensued.

A piece of the development of the Encore project landed in the courts. When Wynn enterprises sought to site a casino in Everett, they offered to buy land from an outfit called FBT Everett Realty, LLC, for $75m. And because Wynn also was looking for a casino license, the real estate transaction drew the attentive oversight of the Massachusetts Gaming Commission.

As anyone who studies development will tell you, these major land acquisitions are always suspect. I remember when Baltimore announced plans to build the twin Ravens and Orioles stadiums in the heart of downtown, and there were rumblings, however futile, about the strangely coincidental land rush that had occurred in the area prior to the announcement. Too many buyers had political connections, and they profited handsomely by flipping their deeds over to the quasi-public stadium projects. That's how economic opportunity works in America, at least for people who pay the lower tax rates for capital gains.

In Massachusetts in 2011, the commonwealth had newly opened itself to big-time, Las Vegas-style gambling, so the commission was under heavy scrutiny to do its due diligence. Though it couldn't prove the precise relationship, as the Supreme Judicial Court explained, the commission suspected that an FBT co-owner was "a convicted felon with possible connections to organized crime": naturally, a red flag in gaming regulation. To its credit, the commission put the brakes on the real estate transaction and conditioned its casino approval on a renegotiation. FBT had to buy out its suspicious stakeholder, and the purchase price was dramatically reduced to $35m.

One minority owner of FBT was unhappy with the new deal and demanded compensation for the reduction. It happened that the same minority owner had bought out the interest of the problematic co-owner and still owed him money. To quell the quarrel and get the deal done, Wynn made a side deal in which it would pay the minority owner $19m, a proportional share of the price reduction that had satisfied the commission.

Wynn didn't pay, and the minority owner sued, alleging breach of contract, common law fraud, and unfair trade practices under the commonwealth's powerful and wide-ranging consumer protection statute, "chapter 93A." Ultimately resulting in the instant case, the First Circuit asked the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court to assess the enforceability of the side deal.

The high court opened its analysis with the supreme public policy of America, "The general rule of our law is the freedom of contract" (quoting Massachusetts precedent that in turn quoted the U.S. Supreme Court in Smith v. The Ferncliff (1939)). "However," the court qualified, "it is 'universally accepted' that public policy sometimes outweighs the interest in freedom of contract, and in such cases the contract will not be enforced" (also quoting state precedents).

I just finished a unit of 1L torts in which the class sees the interaction of tort with contract and equity principles in the assumption of risk. Specifically, we see how theories in equity, if rarely, can quash a cause of action or vitiate an affirmative defense. I hasten to clarify that public policy, like equity, is not a rule of law. It's like someone saying to the court "I should win, despite the rule, because that's what's best for society." It's why the judge gets to wear a sharp black robe, sit on a dais, and wield a gavel: to bring human judgment to bear when the usual operation of law would defy common sense. It's why judges cannot be replaced by AI. Yet.

Gaming regulation is among the "core police powers" of the political branches, the court reasoned. And the legislature clearly empowered the gaming commission to ensure "the integrity of the gaming licensing process" with "strict oversight" and "a rigorous regulatory scheme." The $19m side deal was within the scope of the commission's broad mandate. The deal had not been disclosed to the commission and it was inconsistent, the court opined, with the property sale that the commission approved.

The court had little trouble concluding: "Secret deals in violation of the public terms and conditions required for gaming licensure are unenforceable violations of public policy. They place in grave doubt the integrity of the public process for awarding the license, and thereby defeat the public's confidence in that process."

The Encore project has been a powerful economic boost to communities north of Boston, including Everett, delivering an infusion of business in the billions of dollars. The construction phase especially yielded social and economic benefits, creating jobs and opportunity.

Of course, the secondary effects of "sin" businesses such as casinos don't turn up until the projects have been in operation for awhile, and then especially as they age and decline in high-end commercial appeal. To date, there is conflicting evidence on the social impact of Encore with regard to factors such as crime and the environment. For me, the jury is still out on whether north Boston will see a net benefit from Encore in the long term. I hope it does, but I'm skeptical.

Game on.

The case is Gattineri v. Wynn MA, LLC, no. SJC-13416 (Mass. Nov. 3, 2023). Justice Scott L. Kafker wrote the unanimous opinion of the court. The case in the First Circuit is Gattineri v. Wynn MA, LLC, no. 22-1117 (1st Cir. Mar. 22, 2023) (referring questions).

Bahamian development, identity stall between Columbus, Atlantis; tourist dollars seem not to land

Columbus is absent from Government House, Nassau.

Bowen Yang's amusing portrayal of Christopher Columbus on the Saturday Night Live "Weekend Edition" season premiere in mid-October reminded me of an empty pedestal I saw in Nassau, Bahamas, recently: a sight sadly symbolic of stalled development. 

(All photos and video by RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0.)

I was in Bahamas on the country's National Heroes Day on October 9. Bahamas replaced its Discovery Day, recognizing Christopher Columbus, with Heroes Day in 2013. The idea is to honor homegrown Bahamian heroes and shed the cultural domination of the islands' colonial past.

I've written before on my conflicted feelings about Columbus Day. So I was curious when my Lonely Planet told me that I would find a Columbus statue presiding over the capital at Government House in Nassau. Indeed, my pre-pandemic Planet was outdated. The statue was vandalized just in advance of Heroes Day in 2021 and moved into storage in October 2022. 

I found not only an empty pedestal with a crumbling top, but closed gates at Government House. Neglected surroundings, outside the gates, unfortunately spoke to my overall impression of economic development in the Bahamas.

Two bridges connect Nassau to Paradise Island.

Infrastructure is in a sorry state. Roads are a mess, and signage is almost non-existent. Business outside Nassau and island resorts is minimal. I tried walking to a purported national park on New Providence, and I gave up the effort halfway for the lack of walkways alongside merciless speeding traffic. Later, I drove to the park to find little more than a set-aside green parcel walled by chain link.

K9 Harbour Island Green School subsidizes most students' tuition.

Besides the country's relentlessly cheerful people, little thrives on the islands, economically. There is the tourism sector, the stunning natural beauty of the islands, and expat enclaves such as Harbour Island and Spanish Wells. To walk from grimy downtown Nassau across either bridge to the touristic sector known as "Paradise Island," where the famous Atlantis development is located, is to transport oneself between worlds. 

A Disney ship departs Nassau before dusk.

I wondered what shop workers on Paradise Island think when they leave the artificiality of the plaster-and-paint retail village, with its Ben & Jerry's and Kay's Fine Jewelry, for dilapidated, rat-infested residential buildings in the city's corners. I wondered whether tourists see the contrast when they are whisked through downtown en route from the airport to Paradise.

The heart of the city undergoes an equally striking transformation almost daily. Cruise ships pull into the port and unleash a legion of passengers into the downtown district. Western stores such as Starbucks and Havianas open up alongside overpriced jewelers and T-shirt purveyors.

(Video below: A funeral procession for Obie Wilchombe, Parliamentarian, cabinet minister, and tourism executive, proceeded through the heart of the tourist district while cruise passengers were in port on October 11. I watched, I admit, from the balcony at Starbucks. Tourists who didn't see the coffin must be forgiven for assuming the lively music signified joyful festivity. Embodiment of the tourism-government complex himself, Wilchombe likely would have approved.)

Bahamas declared independence from Britain in 1973.

Then in the late afternoon, the passengers return to their ships, and the downtown becomes a ghost town. I walked the streets at dusk and came across a few port workers commuting by foot, a few teens joking about, and a scarily ranting homeless man who caused me to cross the street. Every business was shuttered. It was hard to believe the same space had been dense with vacationers only hours earlier.

A night street party in Nassau reverberates.

Walking Nassau at night, the relative silence was punctured by a raging street party. A man told me that it was an anniversary celebration of the most popular local radio station, and entry, food, and drink were free. He invited me to join, and I did. It was a raucous party inside with a rapper dancing wildly on a stage, flashing lights, and, he was right, free drinks and heaps of homemade local eats. I felt like I was crashing an after-hours cast party at a Caribbean Disney World. I was having fun, but I must have looked out of place—I couldn't help but attract attention as the only person not of color—as a couple of well meaning partygoers asked if I was all right or needed help finding my way.

Signs all over Eleuthera Island promise happy Disney jobs to come.

Determined as it purports to be to carve out a national identity free of colonialism, there is a painful dearth of evidence that the Bahamanian government is accomplishing that. The government imposes a hefty 12% VAT on goods and services, and I'm sure the port fees are substantial. Where is the money going?

The International Trade Association (ITA) well described what I saw: "The World Bank recognizes The Bahamas as a high-income, developed country with a GDP per capita of $25,194 (2020) and a Gross National Income per capita of $26,070 (2020).  However, the designation belies the country’s extreme income inequality, as statistics are driven by a small percentage of high-net-worth individuals, while most Bahamians earn far less." The only evidence of infrastructure investment I saw was that which directly benefited tourists and expats.

True to form, on a ferry between Eleuthera and Harbour Island, I overheard a couple of Americans in golf outfits discussing the plusses and minuses of potential investment in an island hotel. They seemed oblivious to the fact that the hotel name they bandied about was sewn into the breast of the short-sleeve work shirt of a local commuter sitting right beside them.

The historic "British Colonial" hotel, Nassau, lost its Hilton affiliation,
but is under renovation with plans to reopen under independent operation.

 

The one-two punch of Hurricane Dorian and COVID took a heavy toll, to be sure. And tourism income is not yet back to pre-pandemic levels. Still, that can't fully explain the development stagnancy I saw in and among local communities.

Perhaps naively, I expected to find the Bahamas more a reflection of the western sphere of influence than of the developing world. It's only a 30-minute flight from Miami to Bahamas, and 85% of imports come from the United States. But on the ground on New Providence and Eleuthera Islands, the Bahamas reminded me less of Florida and more of Guinea-Bissau—a country plunged into darkness last week for failure to pay a $17m debt to its exclusive power provider, the offshore ship of a Turkish corporation.

Two years since Columbus was vandalized and one year since he was packed away, the solution to native identity at Government House is a rubble-topped pedestal and closed grounds. The people outside the gates have embraced National Heroes Day. But there is little information in circulation about who the Bahamian heroes are or why they should be celebrated. 

The government owes its people better. And I wouldn't mind seeing American- and British-owned tourism companies taking some corporate social responsibility—if that's still a thing—to ensure that something of what they pay into the country is reaching the people and lands that truly give life to today's Bahamas.