DUBAI, UAE – In Kuwait’s small oil-rich sheikh, foreigners who rule the country’s economy, serve its society and make up 70% of its population are struggling to get coronavirus vaccines.
Unlike other Gulf Arab states that have administered doses to masses of foreign workers in a race to gain herd immunity, Kuwait has been the target of fire to vaccinate its own people first.
This leaves legions of workers from Asia, Africa and elsewhere, cleaning the homes of Kuwaiti nationals, caring for their children, driving cars and packing groceries, although they wait for the first doses, despite bearing the weight of the pandemic.
“The only people I saw at the vaccination center were Kuwaitis,” said a 27-year-old Kuwaiti doctor, who like most people interviewed for this story spoke on condition of anonymity for fear of government retaliation. “Kuwait has a policy for all citizens, including public health.”
Kuwaiti authorities did not respond to repeated requests for comments from the Associated Press on their vaccination strategy.
When the Kuwait vaccination registration site came into operation in December, authorities declared that health workers, older adults and those with underlying conditions would be first in line. As the weeks passed, however, it became increasingly clear that most doses went to Kuwaitis, regardless of age or health. Initially, some expatriate medical workers said they could not even make an appointment.
Kuwait’s labor system, which relates migrants ’residency status to their jobs and gives employers excessive power, prevails in all Gulf Arab states. But hostility to migrants has long burned in Kuwait. The legacy of the 1991 Gulf War, which triggered the mass deportations of Palestinian, Jordanian and Yemeni workers, whose leaders had supported Iraq in the conflict, fueled anxiety over the need for self-sufficiency in Kuwait that persists today, even as Southeast Asian workers rushed to fill the void.
A 30-year-old Indian woman who has spent her entire life in Kuwait saw her Instagram feed filled with celebratory photos of Kuwaiti teenagers receiving the blow. His father, a 62-year-old diabetic with high blood pressure, could not, like the rest of the relatives who live there.
“Every Kuwaiti I know is vaccinated,” he said. “It’s more than annoying. It’s realizing no, it’s not great. There’s no way to feel like I belong here.”
Kuwait has vaccinated its citizens at a rate six times faster than non-citizens, the Ministry of Health revealed earlier this year. At that time, although some 238,000 foreigners registered online to make an appointment, only 18,000 of them — mostly doctors, nurses and well-connected workers from state oil companies — were actually called in to receive the vaccine. Meanwhile, about 119,000 Kuwaitis were vaccinated.
With vaccine information only available in English or Arabic, advocates say it is blocking some 20 low-wage workers in Southeast Asia who do not speak either language.
The disparity sparked a moving debate on social media, with users denouncing what they called the last instance of xenophobia in Kuwait. They say the pandemic has heightened the resentment of migrant workers, deepened social divisions and hardened the government’s decision to protect its own people first. Medical professionals warned that Kuwait’s inoculation hierarchy is harming public health.
Compared to the UAE and Bahrain, among the fastest per capita vaccinators in the world, Kuwait’s momentum has lagged behind. While foreigners await shots, medical workers say Kuwaiti citizens remain reluctant to register because of vaccine conspiracy theories that are widely shared on social media. Infections have increased, prompting the government to impose a strict night curfew last month.
With increased pressure from the Ministry of Health, barriers have been reduced in recent weeks, with a growing number of foreign residents aged 65 and over reporting that they could be vaccinated. Still, most expats insist that inequality in access remains striking.
“We are waiting and waiting for the call,” said a 55-year-old cleaner from Sri Lanka. “As soon as I receive the call, I will go. I need the vaccine to be safe. “
The government has not published a demographic breakdown of foreigners vaccinated against Kuwaitis since outrage erupted over inequality in mid-February, only general vaccination statistics. As of this week, 500,000 people have received at least one dose of Pfizer-BioNTech or Oxford-AstraZeneca, according to health authorities.
While the bulk of front-line workers in grocery stores and cafes remain unvaccinated, Kuwait is making plans to reopen society for the inoculated. Those who can prove they got the puncture will be able to attend schools in the fall, go to the cinemas in the spring and skip quarantine after flying into the country, the government announced.
Kuwaiti foreign workers have felt this frustration before. When the pandemic began, lawmakers, talk show hosts and prominent actresses blamed migrants for the spread of the virus.
While the coronavirus tore up crowded neighborhoods and dormitories where many foreigners live, authorities imposed specific closures and released a growing virus count with a breakdown of nationalities. When infections among Kuwaitis increased, the government stopped publishing demographics.
“It’s easy for migrants to be seen as the root of all the problems in Kuwait,” said Rohan Advani, a sociology researcher at the University of California, Los Angeles. “Citizens have no political or economic power, so when they don’t like what’s going on in their country, blaming foreigners becomes the main way out.”
Despite having a frank parliament, the final power in Kuwait belongs to the ruling emir. Kuwaiti citizens, who are guaranteed places on the public payroll and reap the benefits of a welfare state from the cradle to the grave, have increasingly called for policies that limit the flow of migrants.
Earlier this year, the government banned visa renewals for expatriates over the age of 60 without a college degree, and effectively expelled some 70,000 people, including many who have lived in Kuwait for decades.
“This discrimination is not new to us. The pandemic has just highlighted the worst, ”said a 30-year-old Lebanese woman who grew up in Kuwait and older relatives are still waiting for vaccines.
“But that’s life and death,” he said. “I never thought I would get to this point.”