Revitalizing the Productive Class
When Kuwaitis transitioned from the era of diving and seafaring to the age of oil, Sheikh Abdullah Al-Salem, may God have mercy on him, ensured that the blessings of oil wealth reached the Kuwaiti people. Consequently, the population enjoyed a comfortable standard of living, particularly following the phase of valuation and expansion in government employment. However, this transformation had a direct and strategic impact that was not immediately apparent at the time: the decline of the Kuwaiti workforce in craft and technical professions. We began importing labor for these roles; the construction worker is no longer Kuwaiti, the air conditioning technician is Pakistani, the driver is Indian, the mechanic is Syrian, and so on across many trades.
In reality, these jobs offer very good financial returns. However, their physically demanding nature, combined with the stable employment and social benefits the state provided to citizens, made them unattractive to many Kuwaitis, or rather, there was no longer an economic necessity driving them toward such work. While we wish for the continuation of the welfare state, reality suggests that this model may not remain unchanged forever. The annual budget deficits we witness today, alongside the fact that some graduates wait years to secure government positions, indicate that the current approach is unsustainable in the long term. This necessitates a shift in the state’s economic mindset to rely more on initiative and production, without abandoning the state’s responsibility to care for vulnerable classes.
The Kuwaiti government faces a significant economic challenge, perhaps the most critical being the issue of government employment and the associated wage bill. Since my university years, I have heard economics professors warn of an impending crisis if the status quo remains unaddressed through fundamental reform. Today, we face this problem directly. Solving it requires resilience and patience from the people, and a long-term strategic vision from the state aimed at ensuring the sustainability of the nation and the well-being of future generations, rather than settling for temporary fixes akin to painkillers that delay rather than cure the problem.
One idea I propose to help address this issue is to allow citizens, within carefully regulated frameworks, to choose between public sector employment and utilizing state-owned productive assets, such as farms, khawar (traditional grazing lands), or industrial land. An individual should not be permitted to hold both a stable government job and receive state land granted for economic and productive purposes. This would encourage farmers to focus on their farms, industrialists on their factories, and khawar owners on their activities. As the Kuwaiti proverb says, “The shepherd who tends his own flock is the most attentive.”
From this perspective, new applicants for government jobs would have an alternative: to try their luck in private and productive ventures. The government’s role here should not be limited to distributing land; it must evolve from merely being a land provider to guiding economic activity. For instance, in the agricultural sector, the state could identify crops needed by the local market, direct farmers toward them, and facilitate sales through cooperative societies and central markets, while providing incentives and support linked to production volume and quality. The same applies to khawar and livestock rearing, where clear, data-driven policies are needed: What is the annual consumption of sheep? How much do we import? How much do we need to produce locally? Allocations and subsidies should then be directed toward specific food security goals, rather than allowing khawar to become mere personal assets.
Regarding industrial land, the state possesses the data from customs, sales, and imports to understand market needs, ranging from small-scale industries like nails and spare parts to heavy machinery and equipment. Based on this, an industrial map can be developed to identify goods Kuwait can produce locally, gradually directing industrial land and incentives toward these sectors to reduce reliance on imports.
I also suggest leveraging experiences from other sectors, such as requiring a Kuwaiti pharmacist in the licensing requirements for certain pharmaceutical activities, and developing a similar concept for technical trades. Why should a Kuwaiti technician, particularly a graduate of the Public Authority for Applied Education and Training, not play a fundamental role in licensing activities related to their specialization? For example, it could be mandated that every garage or mechanical workshop employ a qualified and actively registered Kuwaiti mechanic, with controls to prevent this presence from being merely nominal. Furthermore, support for national labor in technical and craft professions should be expanded. Financially, even if the state subsidizes part of a citizen’s income in such roles, it simultaneously alleviates a significant portion of the lifelong cost of employing them in the government apparatus.
The ultimate goal is not to return Kuwaitis to the arduous working conditions their ancestors endured, but to restore to society a culture of work, production, and craftsmanship. It should once again become normal to see Kuwaiti farmers, mechanics, technicians, and industrialists, just as we see Kuwaiti doctors, engineers, and government employees.
During my recent visit to the Netherlands, while walking in the suburbs of the beautiful city of Den Haag, I noticed something worth pondering: the person building skyscrapers is Dutch, the person renovating houses is Dutch, and the person working in farms, factories, and workshops performing many technical and craft tasks is also a native of the country. This did not prevent the Netherlands from having a strong economy, major global companies, an advanced logistics sector, and a prominent international standing. Nor did it prevent its people from enjoying life, believing in individual freedom and rights, and accepting others.
Abdulrahman Walid bin Salama
