The UAE preaches unity at home but pursues division abroad
The United Arab Emirates (UAE) was the first Arab country to set up a ministry of tolerance. It was also the first to be tried for complicity in genocide. On April 10th lawyers for Sudan argued their case at the International Court of Justice. They accuse the UAE of enabling the mass killing of the Masalit, an ethnic group, by arming the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), a militia guilty of a deluge of atrocities.
The UAE rejects the charges. Reem Ketait, a foreign-ministry official, calls them a “cynical and baseless PR stunt” and suggests they are meant to distract from atrocities by the Sudanese army, the RSF’s opponent in a two-year civil war.
Though the army has indeed committed its own war crimes, Emirati support for the RSF is not really in doubt. Still, for procedural reasons, the case is unlikely to progress further. It nonetheless highlights a trend: across the Middle East, the UAE has backed an array of militias who either want to seize states by force or divide them.
Along with neighbouring Saudi Arabia, the UAE is at the centre of the modern Arab world. They are its largest economies and most influential diplomatic players. Both see themselves as independent middle powers in a multipolar world. But they have adopted very different approaches to the region. The Saudis see stability as a core interest, and align themselves often (if not always) with America.

The UAE, a clutch of seven emirates (including Dubai) of which Abu Dhabi is the richest, has taken a different tack. In Libya it allied with Khalifa Haftar, a warlord who tried to overthrow the UN-backed government in Tripoli, the capital. In Yemen it supports the Southern Transitional Council, a secessionist group. It has also forged close ties with leaders in Puntland and Somaliland, two breakaway republics in Somalia. Many of its policies are opposed to America’s. Backing the RSF in Sudan put it at odds with America, China and eventually Russia, too—no small feat.
Asked to explain their policy, Emirati officials often insist it is not theirs at all. The UAE denies sending weapons to the RSF, even after UN investigations and satellite imagery showed that it was doing so several times a week. An Emirati foreign-ministry official once claimed support for Mr Haftar was done in “full co-ordination” with allies—never mind that most of Libya’s allies, including America, opposed it.
Foreign diplomats in Abu Dhabi speculate about economic motives. Some muse that the UAE wants preferential deals for Sudan’s gold. That explanation feels shallow: most of Sudan’s gold is already exported to the UAE. Others think it wants access to arable land and ports in Sudan to further its food-security initiative; 90% of its food is imported.
A focus on commercial considerations may have it backwards. The UAE seems chiefly motivated by ideology. Muhammad bin Zayed al-Nahyan, the president, is fiercely hostile to Islamists. The ruling family is keen to curb the role of Qatar and Turkey, which back Islamist parties. They also want to carve out their own sphere of influence distinct from Saudi Arabia’s.
In Yemen, a sense of peril compelled the UAE to join the Saudi-led coalition that went to war in 2015 against the Houthis, a Shia rebel group that had seized much of the country. Neither wanted an Iran-backed militia to have a foothold on the Arabian peninsula. But the UAE wanted its own allies on the ground—in part because the Saudis were close to the Islah party, an offshoot of the Muslim Brotherhood.
Secessionists in the south, which was an independent communist state until 1990, were a better fit. The alliance may one day yield economic benefits. AD Ports, the state-owned shipping giant in Abu Dhabi, hopes to win a concession to operate the port of Aden in southern Yemen. The UAE’s economic heft is a way to reinforce its relationships—but not the reason for them in the first place.
Sudan ended decades of Islamist rule when it overthrew Omar al-Bashir in 2019, but Islamist officers still wield influence in the army. That gave Sheikh Muhammad a reason to back the RSF. He may also have felt an obligation to the militia’s leader, Muhammad Hamdan Dagalo (also known as Hemedti), who supplied thousands of fighters to help his army in Yemen. “I think he feels a sense of loyalty to these guys,” says a former American official who has met the Emirati president.
The UAE insists it is simply being pragmatic. This argument has some merit. Its allies in Yemen proved better fighters than the Saudi-aligned camp. The UN-backed government in Libya is not as legitimate as it sounds: it is dominated by militias.
Yet support for rogue actors has not been terribly successful. The UAE reopened its embassy in Damascus in 2018 and lobbied other countries to normalise ties with Bashar al-Assad, Syria’s dictator. Anwar Gargash, a foreign-policy adviser to Sheikh Muhammad, says the outreach “came out of the frustration of ten years”. Isolating the Syrian tyrant did not work, he argues; it was worth trying to engage him.
Engagement failed, too. Mr Assad fled to Moscow in December. The UAE is sceptical of the Islamist-led government that emerged, far more so than other Gulf states (though it is not yet working against Ahmed al-Sharaa, the new president).
Mr Haftar was unsuccessful in his quest to capture Tripoli. The RSF lost control of the Sudanese capital last month and fled the city. In both cases, the UAE’s role has arguably been counterproductive. It gave Turkey an excuse to deepen its ties with the Sudanese army and the government in Tripoli: they have relied on Turkish drones to beat back their opponents.
These policies have also done growing damage to the UAE’s reputation. In separate meetings in Washington last month, three congressional staffers raised the prospect of imposing sanctions. That is probably just talk—for now. As the saying goes, backing groups like the RSF is worse than a crime; it is a blunder. ■
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