Buying Culture

Tough negotiations are nothing new to Jean d'Haussonville. The special adviser to France's Foreign Ministry has represented Paris in major negotiations with both the EU and NATO in recent years. But nothing prepared him for the high-stakes deal he struggled to hammer out over the past year and a half: an unprecedented agreement to open a branch of the Louvre in Abu Dhabi, the tiny capital of the United Arab Emirates. Persuading his compatriots to part with a portion of their cultural heritage was no easy matter; founded by Napoleon in the 18th century, the home of the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa had never before established a presence outside France. And there was plenty of resistance to opening the first foreign outpost in a country that had gone from barren desert to glitzy shopping haven in the space of 30 years. The general feeling, as Sorbonne president Jean-Robert Pitte summed it up, was, "Can we really bring culture to camel riders and carpet sellers?"

Abu Dhabi, led by its crown prince, Sheik Mohammed bin Zayed al-Nahyan, believes they most certainly can. And what France stands to gain is not inconsequential: a geopolitical foothold in a strategically important region. D'Haussonville says his country liked the idea of helping "to deter fundamentalism through culture." But that was nothing compared with the real deal sweetener: cash. Abu Dhabi, which sits on 10 percent of the world's oil supply, has agreed to pay $520 million just to use the name "Louvre" for 30 years; it also plans to pony up $747 million more for art loans and advice. "It was all about the money," says Marthe Bernus-Taylor, the honorary general curator of the Islamic-art department at the Louvre.

Winning over the Louvre was merely the first step in Abu Dhabi's grand plan to transform itself into the cultural capital of the Middle East. The new museum will be housed in a massive $27 billion complex called Saadiyat Island, perhaps the most ambitious cultural-development project ever conceived. The 27-square-kilometer island, expected to open in phases beginning in 2012, will eventually include 29 luxury hotels and a huge park for a biennial arts festival, as well as branches of many of the world's most illustrious museums and academies—including the Guggenheim, the Sorbonne and most likely Yale—all designed by the biggest names in architecture: Frank Gehry, Zaha Hadid and Jean Nouvel, to name just a few. "We're bringing together the top architects of the past 100 years," says Mubarak al-Muhairi, the director of the Abu Dhabi Tourism Authority (ADTA), which is overseeing the project. "If you took any one of these museums, it would be a major international attraction on its own."

A project of such spectacular ambition was bound to be controversial. But the speed and ferocity of the backlash against Saadiyat Island has startled even the skeptics. While Abu Dhabi's leaders say the island will enrich its own population as well as serve as a link between the gulf and the West, sharp attacks are coming from all quarters. French critics—including some of the Louvre's curators—have blasted the museum for selling out and raised fears that its collection could be compromised. Academics have ripped into their universities for collaborating with an authoritarian state. And intellectuals across the Arab world have lambasted Abu Dhabi for slavishly promoting Western rather than indigenous culture. What unites the critics is a core question: Can culture be bought? And who is really enriched by the process?

Abu Dhabi's future depends on those answers. Only 30 years ago, the Emirates were a barren desert sparsely populated by Bedouin tribes. Then, in the 1980s and '90s, they began to capitalize on their oil wealth. Parts of the U.A.E. built garish skyscrapers, megamalls and resort complexes. At first Abu Dhabi sat back and watched its upstart neighbor Dubai splurge on over-the-top construction projects like indoor ski resorts and palm-shaped islands. But while Abu Dhabi sneered, Dubai, currently under the leadership of the thoroughly modern Sheik Mohammed bin Rashid al-Maktum (following story), became one of the most lucrative tourism hot spots in the Middle East. Abu Dhabi's leaders quickly realized that if they didn't act fast, they'd be left behind.

In the autumn of 2004, the government formed the Abu Dhabi Tourism Authority, which quickly decided to zero in on high-end tourism. But how? After weeks of brainstorming, the answer became clear: art and education. "In all the studies we have undertaken, culture has been shown to be a strong driver of the kind of tourism Abu Dhabi has identified as its primary market: upscale, high-repeat visitation," says ADTA chairman Sheik Sultan bin Tahnoon al-Nahyan. World-class cultural institutions would not only educate the locals and create the perfect draw for well-heeled tourists but also help Abu Dhabi distinguish itself from its déclassé neighbor. "It sees Dubai as the Nescafé of culture, while Abu Dhabi wants to be the cappuccino," says Lisa Ball-Lechgar, the editor of the U.A.E.-based magazine Canvas. So the ADTA resolved to build a new tourist mecca—Saadiyat Island, Arabic for Island of Happiness.