At the end of last week, the Kuwaiti parliament sparked a wave of questions—perhaps even admiration—after approving a privatisation bill allowing the sale of state-owned companies, including some assets in the energy sector. However, the bill upheld a key principle: Kuwait’s oil and gas fields would remain off-limits to foreign investors, preserving the country’s national wealth.
During the initial vote, several MPs opposed the inclusion of any energy assets in the bill, arguing that they must remain under state control to prevent corruption. Their concerns were heard, and this was ultimately taken into account.
This is a case of Kuwait’s unique brand of democracy—one that frequently raises both questions and criticism. The country’s parliament wields extraordinary powers, having brought down the government multiple times in just a few years. In response, the emir, who holds a counterbalancing authority, has repeatedly dissolved parliament, creating a political cycle that some have described as absurd.
But this time, those who doubt Kuwait’s democratic model—often criticised for its peculiarities—may need to reconsider. For democracy, even in its strangest forms, always seems to bring some benefit to the people, safeguarding their wealth from the excesses of unchecked authority. The ordinary citizen, armed only with their electoral vote, understands its true value and power.
We have grown accustomed to mocking the ‘Khaleejis’, convinced—often with a smirk—that they are nothing more than tribes still clinging to their pastoral mentality. Yet intellectual arrogance, especially when hollow, always blinds its bearer to the reality unfolding around them. They awaken from their delusions, confused and scrambling to make sense of what they have missed—only to cling to the same arrogance, now laced with disbelief: How did this happen? The answer is strikingly simple and best expressed with another question: Are they not human beings with minds of their own? Did they not invest their wealth wisely and, in doing so, find the way forward? We may disagree with them on many other matters, but they understand their right to use their intellect for the benefit of their people—a fundamental human instinct that naturally follows the accumulation and proper management of wealth.
The details of this bill present what might be the first positive image of privatisation in the Arab world—a concept long tainted by its Western-imposed, exploitative form, in which governments trade away national assets. This could offer a new meaning to privatisation—one that citizens might actually welcome, without feeling that their country is being sold off behind their backs.
Alongside its restrictions on foreign ownership, the new law also exempts government-owned utilities, oil and gas production, refineries, healthcare, and education from privatisation. Moreover, the government will retain a stake of no more than 20% in privatised companies.
According to the version of the bill passed by parliament, 40% of a privatised company’s shares will be sold in an initial public offering exclusively for Kuwaiti citizens. Meanwhile, at least 35% of shares will be auctioned to listed local joint-stock companies and other firms approved by the Supreme Privatisation Council.
Perhaps the most commendable aspect of this legislation—one that will be recorded in Kuwait’s economic history—is its commitment to future generations. The bill stipulates that proceeds from privatisation will be added to the state budget, with 50% allocated to the Future Generations Fund, managed by the Kuwait Investment Authority. A rare and notable instance of an Arab government ensuring that national wealth benefits not just the present, but also the future.
This article is originally published by AlBorsa in Arabic and later AI-translated by South Push.