Oman is the most civilised country I have known, a place where courtesy is not performed but lived, where strangers are received without suspicion and where dignity is ingrained.
Its culture is deep rather than loud, its history carried with calm assurance, and its tolerant Sultan has made the country a rare moral landmark in a region too often bruised by extremes.
In a world frequently covered in darkness, Oman stands as a bright candle. Yet even candles must be shielded from storms.
The winds of change are now sweeping across the world with unusual force, and the Middle East feels them keenly. His Majesty Sultan Haitham bin Tarik faces challenges seemingly less dramatic than those confronting the late His Majesty Sultan Qaboos in 1970, but in many respects, his challenges are both more complex and more demanding.
The battles are no longer fought only with rifles or slogans, but with invisible systems that move faster than politics or tradition can easily follow.
Beyond the immediate pressures of regional conflict, a quieter danger gathers offshore. Artificial intelligence is not arriving - it has already arrived.
What lies ahead is its second wave. Estimates suggest that up to two billion jobs worldwide may disappear within a decade. Numbers of that scale are difficult to imagine and therefore easy to dismiss.
But history shows that societies are rarely undone by what they do not see. They are undone by what they see too late. The image of a tsunami is apt. Before it strikes, the sea retreats.
People walk out onto the exposed seabed, curious rather than afraid. They know something is happening, but they do not know what it means. AI is that retreating sea. We see its convenience, its speed, its novelty.
What we do not yet fully grasp is the social vacuum it may leave behind when routine work, clerical labour, transport and even parts of professional life disappear.
Oman is not immune. No country is. Its youth are educated, intelligent and ambitious, yet many still expect stability through employment rather than through adaptability. One protection lies in education, but not merely more of it.
Oman can pivot from training people for specific jobs to preparing them for lifelong reinvention: critical thinking, ethics, creativity, craftsmanship and the caring professions, areas where machines remain weak and humans remain essential.
Another safeguard is restraint. Oman has never rushed where others run blindly in. AI can be adopted selectively.
Public services, healthcare and governance can use AI to support rather than replace human judgement, preserving employment while increasing effectiveness.
In this, Oman’s tradition of balance may prove its greatest asset. There are jobs that machines cannot replicate.
Heritage industries, environmental stewardship, tourism rooted in Oman’s history and culture, and community-based services can all be strengthened. These are not relics of the past but anchors for the future.
AI may make many things faster, but it cannot make them more meaningful. Finally, there is the wise leadership under His Majesty Sultan Haitham bin Tarik who governs a people accustomed to trust rather than fear.
Honest dialogue about change, coupled with long-term planning rather than short-term reassurance, can turn anxiety into resolve.
If the sea is indeed pulling back, Oman still has time to move to higher ground. Civilisation is not measured by technology alone but by how a society protects its people when technology reshapes their lives.
In that test, Oman has every chance not merely to survive the coming tsunami, but to stand as an example to others watching the horizon.
Karim Easterbrook
The writer is a Former Cambridge School Principal and Author
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