Dubai loves to sell itself as a cultural crossroads—a place where East meets West, where tradition and modernity blend seamlessly. But here’s the thing: it doesn’t.
What you actually get is a glossy, shallow replica of what culture is supposed to feel like. Instead of a vibrant, living expression of history, Dubai has chosen to bulldoze over its roots and replace them with a high-end, westernized fantasy designed to lure tourists and expats with money to burn.
The “culture” here feels bought and repackaged for mass consumption. Sure, there are the obligatory nods to local heritage—a sanitized souk here, a token museum there—but these are as artificial as the indoor ski slopes in the malls. Nothing feels lived in, nothing feels real. There’s no sense of depth, no grit or history. It’s as if Dubai ripped out its soul to make room for more shopping malls and five-star hotels.
Let’s not pretend that the culture Dubai pushes is authentic, because it’s not. It’s an aesthetic—a veneer of tradition wrapped around a hyper-consumerist core. You can book a camel ride through the desert, dine at a “Bedouin camp” set up for your Instagram feed, but the whole thing feels staged. It’s a fantasy version of the Middle East, packaged for western tourists who want the illusion of adventure without any of the discomfort. You’re not experiencing the life, the struggle, or the history of the people who built this place—you’re just paying for a photo op.
Walk through Dubai’s sprawling malls, and it’s impossible to escape the overwhelming sense of sameness. Every store, every brand, every restaurant is a duplicate of something you’d find in New York, Paris, or London. This place doesn’t offer anything original; it’s a collection of global franchises and designer labels, pasted into a shimmering desert backdrop. You could visit the biggest mall in the world here and walk out feeling like you’ve seen it all before—because you have. Dubai has made itself into a playground for the wealthy, but it’s not giving you anything you can’t find elsewhere.
What you won’t find, however, is anything that feels rooted in this place, in its people. The very idea of local culture seems to have been erased, replaced with high-end restaurants curated by celebrity chefs flown in from other continents, or luxury boutiques selling overpriced handbags. You could spend a week here and never meet an Emirati, never taste a dish with real ties to this land. Instead, you’ll dine on sushi or steak, sip your Starbucks, and marvel at the tallest tower in the world—all without experiencing anything that gives you a true sense of place.
This is Dubai’s ultimate trick: it convinces you that it’s something extraordinary, but it’s really just a more expensive, shinier version of every other luxury destination. You walk through it, snapping photos, dropping obscene amounts of money, but the moment you leave, it fades from memory. There’s nothing here to stick with you, nothing that leaves a mark.
Because that’s what real culture does—it stays with you. It’s lived, it’s messy, it’s deeply tied to the land and the people. It’s the street vendor handing you a dish perfected over generations, the old buildings that have stories to tell, the moments of connection with people who live and breathe the history of their city. Dubai offers none of that. It’s built to dazzle you, but the shine wears off fast, leaving behind only emptiness.