Denaturalization in Kuwait and the GCC (Part 5): Anticipating the Aftermath

[This is Part 5 of a multi-part roundtable on “Citizenship and Denaturalization in Kuwait and the GCC.” Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4 here. The remaining pieces of the roundtable series will published on Jadaliyya in the coming days. Check this article for links as they become available.]

 Arabian Peninsula Page Co-Editors (AP): What logistical, bureaucratic, social, or other complications can this campaign create for Kuwait?

Ali M: It is still impossible to fully understand or anticipate the long-term consequences of the ongoing revocation campaign, for the Kuwaiti state, for the broader society, and most importantly for the thousands of families and individuals directly affected by these actions. Over the past two years, this process has certainly created high levels of social tension, animosity, and fear in Kuwait. The regime has thus effectively committed the very act for which it charges journalists, bloggers, and online activists: threatening national unity and social cohesion. By encouraging Kuwaitis to report their fellow citizens on suspected cases of fraud or dual nationality (through a national tip line), the government is cultivating a climate of social anxiety and suspicion that will be difficult to reverse.

Citizenship revocation is a stigma, and those who find themselves in this position must deal with the humiliation not only of having their name announced publicly in the official government gazette, but also of how they are treated when they go to government offices to navigate their new reality. This is also going to create many new challenges for families, with existing or future disputes over custody and inheritance disrupted by new questions about nationality status and rights.

Alex Boodrookas: Combined with the shutdown of parliamentary rule, the denaturalization campaign has created a climate of repression comparable to the worst periods in Kuwaiti political history. Further, the stunning number of denaturalizations suggests that the regime is eschewing compromise and seeking to demonstrate its willingness to employ ruthless measures. For Kuwaitis seeking to effect political change, these measures have largely foreclosed avenues of formal politics. 

Of course, those directly affected will bear the heaviest burden. The reactions of many denaturalized people have circulated on social media—the shock, the fear, the abandoned dreams, the realization that life will never be the same. It also creates yet another bureaucratic and political headache. How will these newly stateless people find jobs or receive an education? Where will they live? Without nationality documentation, how can they be incorporated into society and the economy? The marginalization of the Kuwaiti Bidoon is not just a humanitarian crisis and self-evident injustice; it is also a social and bureaucratic nightmare that consistently worsens with time. The regime seems to believe that it can answer with unvarnished repression. It is hard to see how that will be sustainable. 

Claire Beaugrand: The Kuwaiti government has probably considered the short-term political gains of its populist stances appearing ‘tough and determined’: has not the reign of the Emir been celebrated by some as ushering into an era of order (described as fatrat al hazm, era of determination) supposed to put an end to chaos and corruption? The authorities also probably forecast the economic benefits of excluding a large chunk of citizens from the welfare state benefits (salary grids for nationals, pensions). On that note, they emphasized as part of the justification for their policy, the exorbitant sums of money recovered by the state in certain cases of denaturalizations.[1] While some first-class citizens may feel they have something to benefit from the current situation, it seems that the understanding of citizenship as sheer loyalty makes all Kuwaiti nationals downgraded from citizens to subjects.

Yet the whole campaign, carried out rapidly and abruptly, seems to be rather ad hoc with little concern for immediate practicalities or future consequences. Denaturalized persons, made de facto stateless or requested to recover a former nationality, are left to fend for themselves and confess that beyond their names featuring on the list of the denaturalization decrees they have no clue about what to do, let alone their rights. The magnitude of the campaign’s unpreparedness can be read in the sequencing of the legislation to tackle the effects of decisions of denaturalization ex post facto as well as the accompanying official statements and explanations published in the press.

For instance, the institution to handle appeals, the Grievances Committee for Kuwaiti Citizenship, was set up a year after the beginning of the campaign in March 2025, in what can be interpreted as a quick fix to address criticisms. Another telling example is the fact that the Lawyers Association had to issue a decision to allow female lawyers whose nationality was revoked to continue practicing in the interest of the “continuity of judicial processes” showing the likely absence of consultation on the impact of the campaign, be it immediate or long-term. Here, a sociologically informed analysis of the campaign’s implementation would probably uncover how it sets tensions within the state institutions or enterprises. It is unclear whether denaturalized persons would be able to keep the properties and rights reserved for nationals, like, among others, their pension entitlements and money seems at stake here. It seems that different ministries are required to redraw the employment contracts of their denaturalized employees to comply with their new legal status. The amount of red tape involved is anyone’s guess, and the willingness of people affected to remain in their job or in the country altogether is another one.  

One of the tangible impacts of the campaign launched for the sake of economic savings and authoritarian consolidation is the irreparable damage done to the social fabric of the country. While the successive Emirs in Kuwait have always insisted, in times of crisis, on the “unity of the nation,” this wedge drawn between “authentic” and “inauthentic” Kuwaitis seems difficult to mend. Denaturalized individuals express the trauma of being “dumped” by the country they called homeland and described as “impurities” by the Emir, as well as their resentment at some former fellow citizens applauding him. The prospects for naturalization, that is integration, seem as unattainable as ever for Bidoon, long-term residents, or indeed anybody not defined as Kuwaiti by the biology. As opposed to the other Gulf states, that have tried to portray their stratified and hierarchical societies in a positive light as cities of tolerance, social harmony and even selected integration for talents (through the Golden visas or residencies program), Kuwait appears to care little about its international reputation and demonstrates scant respect for attachment or (life) dedication to the country. 

The denaturalization of the Kuwaiti ambassador to the United Kingdom, Badr al-Awadhi, mentioned above, showing the full extent to which the Kuwaiti authorities were ready to go in sparing nobody in the application of the denaturalization campaign, triggered various feelings of outrage, incomprehension, and scoffing at a state that puts itself in the embarrassing situation of stripping the nationality of a career diplomat, whose main mission has been to represent its interests abroad. The international reputation of the country is changing. International reactions have been minimal although Kuwait is clearly generating a new wave of cases of statelessness and uncertain legal situations, and cares little about the legal consequences of its denaturalization. This is unlikely to change despite denaturalized persons already seeking asylum abroad and especially to the UK, joining the ranks of Bidoon who already feature prominently in the list of application numbers relative to the size of the country of origin. 

Yet this campaign marks a significant rupture with the country’s reputation as “the exception in the Gulf” for its semi-democratic system, characterized by a negotiated political order and relative integrative redistribution but also for a certain form of diplomatic respectability—as sought by the Emir Sabah. It is now aligned with punitive and unpredictable regimes.

Saher Sawdawi: Since the campaign is still unfolding as I write, its logistical, bureaucratic, and social complications are only beginning to surface. What is visible now, I suspect, is merely the early signs of a far longer disturbance, one whose deeper consequences will haunt Kuwait for years to come.

Confusion has already taken hold around the most basic logistical questions. What becomes of the revoked who own land, hold businesses, access healthcare, or have children enrolled in education? The state’s messaging on these matters has been inconsistent and, in places, openly contradictory. Those revoked under the categories of honorable services or naturalized wives are reportedly permitted to retain ownership of one plot of land, to keep their businesses, and to keep their children in public schools. Yet from the moment the revocation order is issued, the same parents are barred from enrolling a younger child, not yet in school, into the public school system. The result is an absurd bifurcation within a single household: one child remains, while the other must be paid for privately. Meanwhile, those whose citizenship has been revoked on grounds of fraud or misconduct are required to repay state-welfare benefits previously received or face legal consequences. None of this has been clearly communicated, and the official messaging continues to drift between justifications.

Beyond the immediate confusion lies a deeper structural problem. In a country already oversaturated with public servants and administrative workers, the campaign effectively requires the layering of yet another bureaucratic apparatus on top of an already daunting administrative body. This apparatus will almost certainly be tasked with operationalizing a self-invented and self-inflicted social category across every domain of life: healthcare, education, ownership, and others. This is a bureaucratic nightmare, though not an unfamiliar one. Kuwait has done something similar before. In 2010, a dedicated administrative authority was established to govern the daily accessibility of the stateless population to ordinary life. The state, in other words, knows this script and seems prepared to write it again, this time for its own former citizens.

More from the “Denaturalization in Kuwait and the GCC” Roundtable

Part 1: Understanding Citizenship

Part 2: Reconsidering Citizenship

Part 3: Collapsing Categories of Citizens and Non-Citizens 

Part 4: De/Politicizing Denaturalization