What the West can learn from Oman...
Published: 04:04 PM,Apr 12,2025 | EDITED : 08:04 PM,Apr 12,2025
A general view of Muscat. - Reuters
During my last visit to the United Kingdom, I realised I no longer felt fully British — or perhaps truly English. This unsettling feeling made me reflect on what it means to call oneself British, English, Omani, or even Chinese.
Is it the passport, the place of birth, ancestry, skin colour, sense of humour or mannerisms? Or is it something deeper? To identify with a country, I believe you must feel a sense of belonging.
Pride in a country’s history, traditions and achievements also plays a part, as does the willingness to defend it. But I don’t believe it has anything to do with race. With 99.9 per cent of human DNA identical and only 0.1 per cent determining external features like skin colour, the concept of race is scientifically and morally flawed. It is a social construct with no biological basis.
Last summer, though I was glad to see family, I felt no sense of belonging in England. Had I become 'Omanised,' or had England changed? Likely both.
For the first time, I saw that freedom of speech - once a cornerstone of British identity - had diminished. I could no longer freely express my views on political issues, especially about Palestine. Like many in Oman and the UK, I am appalled by the suffering of Palestinians and condemn Israel’s actions in Gaza as genocide. My moral philosophy is simple: if you harm the innocent, you are my enemy and if you defend the innocent, you are my friend - regardless of religion or nationality. I support those who defend Palestinians and condemn those complicit in their suffering, including my own UK government.
When I say I support groups involved in defending innocent Palestinians, it is not an endorsement of their broader political ideologies. Just as one could have supported Stalin’s Russia in resisting Nazi Germany without supporting Stalinism, I support those opposing genocide without agreeing with all their views.
However, in today’s Britain, merely voicing support for these groups could result in arrest. I no longer felt safe criticising Zionism or articulating my moral stance. This was just one reason I no longer felt at home in England. Living in Oman has transformed my perspective. Being Muslim and married to an Omani has also changed how I see my birthplace. My wife feels uneasy wearing a hijab in England due to rising anti-Muslim sentiment, fuelled by irresponsible media. She now fears walking alone in public. Prejudice against non-white individuals or those with foreign accents has become more common, often seen as disqualifiers of being “truly English.”
In contrast, Oman has been a powerful force of inclusion in my life. I live in a community of over 5,000 people representing more than 80 nationalities. Although Oman is not free from racism, in 30 years, I’ve rarely experienced it. Here, mosques stand beside churches and temples; Muslims worship side by side. Omanis live and work peacefully with people from India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, the Philippines, Africa, and the West.
What sets Oman apart is not just its diversity but the absence of fear around it. In the West, immigration and ethnic differences are often framed as threats. In Oman, under His Majesty Sultan Haitham bin Tarik and the legacy of the late His Majesty Sultan Qaboos, a quiet civic ethos of respect has flourished. Ibadism, the dominant Islamic tradition in Oman, fosters tolerance and peaceful coexistence. Combined with Oman’s seafaring history of cultural exchange, it has created a society proud of its identity - without excluding others.
Oman offers the West a compelling example: national identity and pluralism are not mutually exclusive. Religious diversity can thrive within social harmony. Inclusion does not require assimilation. At a time when division is widening in the West, especially in the US, Oman offers a model worth studying - and emulating.
Is it the passport, the place of birth, ancestry, skin colour, sense of humour or mannerisms? Or is it something deeper? To identify with a country, I believe you must feel a sense of belonging.
Pride in a country’s history, traditions and achievements also plays a part, as does the willingness to defend it. But I don’t believe it has anything to do with race. With 99.9 per cent of human DNA identical and only 0.1 per cent determining external features like skin colour, the concept of race is scientifically and morally flawed. It is a social construct with no biological basis.
Last summer, though I was glad to see family, I felt no sense of belonging in England. Had I become 'Omanised,' or had England changed? Likely both.
For the first time, I saw that freedom of speech - once a cornerstone of British identity - had diminished. I could no longer freely express my views on political issues, especially about Palestine. Like many in Oman and the UK, I am appalled by the suffering of Palestinians and condemn Israel’s actions in Gaza as genocide. My moral philosophy is simple: if you harm the innocent, you are my enemy and if you defend the innocent, you are my friend - regardless of religion or nationality. I support those who defend Palestinians and condemn those complicit in their suffering, including my own UK government.
When I say I support groups involved in defending innocent Palestinians, it is not an endorsement of their broader political ideologies. Just as one could have supported Stalin’s Russia in resisting Nazi Germany without supporting Stalinism, I support those opposing genocide without agreeing with all their views.
However, in today’s Britain, merely voicing support for these groups could result in arrest. I no longer felt safe criticising Zionism or articulating my moral stance. This was just one reason I no longer felt at home in England. Living in Oman has transformed my perspective. Being Muslim and married to an Omani has also changed how I see my birthplace. My wife feels uneasy wearing a hijab in England due to rising anti-Muslim sentiment, fuelled by irresponsible media. She now fears walking alone in public. Prejudice against non-white individuals or those with foreign accents has become more common, often seen as disqualifiers of being “truly English.”
In contrast, Oman has been a powerful force of inclusion in my life. I live in a community of over 5,000 people representing more than 80 nationalities. Although Oman is not free from racism, in 30 years, I’ve rarely experienced it. Here, mosques stand beside churches and temples; Muslims worship side by side. Omanis live and work peacefully with people from India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, the Philippines, Africa, and the West.
What sets Oman apart is not just its diversity but the absence of fear around it. In the West, immigration and ethnic differences are often framed as threats. In Oman, under His Majesty Sultan Haitham bin Tarik and the legacy of the late His Majesty Sultan Qaboos, a quiet civic ethos of respect has flourished. Ibadism, the dominant Islamic tradition in Oman, fosters tolerance and peaceful coexistence. Combined with Oman’s seafaring history of cultural exchange, it has created a society proud of its identity - without excluding others.
Oman offers the West a compelling example: national identity and pluralism are not mutually exclusive. Religious diversity can thrive within social harmony. Inclusion does not require assimilation. At a time when division is widening in the West, especially in the US, Oman offers a model worth studying - and emulating.