Like Las Vegas, Dubai is so odd, you never forget the first time you arrive.
For me, it was a November morning in 2003. I drove past the dredgers
creating canals in the desert that would soon become the marina, and ended
up at the Hilton. The hotel was so far from the airport, on an isolated
strip of beach, I wondered whether I was in Dubai at all, or had drifted off
into Abu Dhabi or Saudi Arabia.
Last week I went back, on the latest of more than 20 visits. The good news is
that Dubai has grown so rapidly, you cannot even see the Hilton any more.
It's hidden behind the sandstone towers of the Jumeirah Beach Residence,
which are among the thousands of skyscrapers that confirm Dubai as the
fastest-growing city in human history.
The bad news is that the economic model that got Dubai so far so fast has run
into the sand. The property sector has collapsed. Construction has all but
stopped, and prices fell by 41% in the first quarter of this year, according
to the real estate consultancy Colliers International.
Behind the raw data are people: people like David and Leanne. David, 33, set
up a firm offering consultancy services to contractors. Leanne, 28, got a
job in human resources for a local contractor. Last year, they bought their
first property: a three-bedroom, £500,000 flat in the marina. Almost a year
on, they are about to do something they never imagined they would: run away.
Any day now, the couple — who don’t want to reveal their full names because,
under Dubai’s strict bankruptcy laws, debtors can be jailed simply for
bouncing a cheque — will head to the airport with their four children and
leave. Leanne has been laid off and the contractor David’s firm works for
hasn’t paid him a dirham since December. The flat is worth 25% less than
they paid for it, pushing them into negative equity, and they are down to
the last of their savings. “Our lawyer told us that, as debtors go to
prison here, we should leave while we can and negotiate from a position of
strength abroad,” Leanne says.
The shop windows in the upscale Jumeirah district confirm that David and
Leanne are not alone. Classified-ad notice boards are chock-full of fliers
for yard sales being held by expatriates who are skipping town. Even pets
are up for grabs. “Free to good home,” it says above the photos of beloved
dogs and cats in the window of the Park’n’Shop supermarket on Al Wasl Road.
It wasn’t meant to be this way. In 2000, the emirate’s leader, Sheikh Mohammed
Bin Rashid al-Maktoum, invited westerners to move to Dubai. The city state’s
unique selling point? Buy a house and you’ll get a resident’s visa. In
return for putting up with living in a sandpit the size of Kent, where temperatures
reach 50C in summer, westerners would help to create the Singapore of the
Middle East — and get filthy rich along the way.
It started well enough. Dubai began to build itself onto the map. There was
the Palm Jumeirah, the World — 300 reclaimed islands in the Gulf, arranged
in the shape of a map of the planet — and the Burj Dubai, the world’s
tallest skyscraper. Each time I visited, Dubai seemed to have doubled in
size.
Property prices quadrupled between 2002 and 2008. Anyone who bought and sold
between 2000 and July last year — that includes the Chelsea footballer Joe
Cole and Simon Cowell, the creator of the X Factor, who both flipped villas
on the Palm Jumeirah — made a killing. As one British investor puts it:
“When times were good, you couldn’t lose. Prices went only one way: up.”
Anyone who bought in the past year, however, is in limbo or nursing a loss.
Saeed Gupta, 33, an Indian-born Londoner, started dabbling in property when
he moved to Dubai five years ago to manage an upscale boutique in the Mall
of the Emirates. Last year, he put down deposits totalling £50,000 on two
flats in new inland developments.
The developer says it will finish the first project in time for him to move in
next year, but it is unlikely to finish the second. It will be 18 months
before he gets his deposit back — without interest. He’s worried he might
not see his money at all: “What if the developer goes bust in the next 18
months?”
What’s gone wrong? Dubai was the ultimate property bubble. Sheikh Mohammed
wanted to build 1m new homes in 15 years — an epically extravagant plan,
even in the boom years. The problem was that the foundations of the property
sector, like some of the developments themselves, were not secure. Chris
Dommett, who runs the Dubai operation of the mortgage advisory company John
Charcol, says the market was “a classic pyramid scheme”, and unsustainable —
though, he adds, nobody foresaw prices falling as sharply as they have done.
From 2000 until last year, developers used borrowed money and deposits raised
from off-plan sales to fund razzle-dazzle schemes. Lax regulation meant
developers could take deposits before they had even broken ground, and even
use deposits taken from buyers in one development to fund the construction
of other developments.
With deposits as low as 10% of the purchase price, speculators piled in,
reserving entire floors of new developments and flipping all the flats for a
higher price before they had to pay the next staged payment. The more they
sold, the higher prices rose. The higher the prices, the more they bought.
Round and round the fizzy cycle went.
Then, when the credit crunch hit last year, the economy turned on a dirham.
Private developers suddenly found they could not borrow from banks. The
Dubai government, which controls Nakheel, Dubai Holding and Emaar — which
together account for more than 80% of all property development in Dubai —
could not borrow on the wholesale markets. With almost no oil of its own,
Dubai depends on borrowed money and support from the federal government,
largely bankrolled by Abu Dhabi.
Long-term investors who had bought off-plan homes that were almost finished
could no longer borrow from the banks, so missed their final payments and
defaulted. Spooked by falling prices, new investors walked away from deals,
forfeiting their deposits. The result, as Dommett puts it, is that the
housing market has “effectively stopped”.
Developers who once rushed to launch a project every few months are racing to
abandon them. Peter Riddoch, the Scots-born boss of Damac, Dubai’s largest
private-sector developer, says: “We won’t launch any new product in Dubai in
the next year.”
Greedy speculators, fast-talking developers and the global slump are not the
only factors behind the bust. Many investors were foolish. Gupta, for
instance, admits he was suckered into believing prices would rise for ever,
and brushed off concerns about Dubai’s lack of legal or regulatory
framework. The court system is in its infancy, leaving investors unsure what
rights they have if developers go bust.
Was Dubai’s desert dream a mirage, or can the government sort out the mess?
And when, if ever, should investors think about re-entering the market?
“Dubai property is not a busted flush,” says Andy Dukes, an IT entrepreneur,
as he settles into his lounger next to the chilled swimming pool at one of
two villas he owns on Palm Jumeirah. “The market is no longer on
amphetamines, but it’s still a great place to live and make money.”
Dukes, 45, moved to the emirate from St Albans three years ago after selling
his internet firm, which pioneered e-mail greetings cards. He spent £3m
buying two villas and two flats on the Palm, has sold both the flats for a
healthy profit, and lets one of the villas for up to £3,000 a week. Taking
into account the profit he’s made in the
good years, and allowing for the 30% fall in the value of the pound against
the dirham over the past year, he reckons he has made a net profit of more
than £500,000 — as well as enjoying what he calls “a dream lifestyle”.
In spite of the slump, some analysts say the fundamentals of the property
sector are sound. The cancellation of new projects will ultimately support
prices by cutting supply; as the economy picks up, more people will move to
Dubai and need somewhere to live.
The government is tackling the immediate liquidity problems, raising up to £12
billion in a bond issue it is using to bail out cash-strapped state-backed
companies, notably Nakheel. A better regulatory framework for the property
sector is being introduced: new laws will stop developers taking payments
for properties before they have broken ground. Bankruptcy legislation will
offer investors legal redress when developers either fail to complete
planned projects or go bust.
With oil prices recovering, and banks and developers recapitalised, Blair
Hagkull, who runs the property investment and advisory outfit Jones Lang
LaSalle in the emirate, sees this year as “a period of correction”, with
prices continuing to fall until Christmas. Next year, he says, “we will
witness market stability”, with prices and rents recovering in 2011. At that
time, Hagkull advises looking to established locations such as Dubai Marina,
the Downtown area around the Burj Dubai, and the Lakes, Meadows and Springs
estates. Buyers should avoid off-plan sales and buy completed properties
from developers with a proven track record of delivering high-quality homes.
The advice comes too late for David and Leanne. Their dream is over. The
sooner they can leave, they say, the better. As D-day — departure day —
nears, their nerves are shredded. Leanne is worried that her bank, which
recently cancelled her credit cards, may have registered her as a debtor,
and that she will be refused the right to leave when they get to the
airport. If that happens, David could take the children himself, but he does
not want to leave his wife behind. “All we can do is pray,” she says. “Then
pray some more