Against this backdrop, the Egyptian Parliament passed the Drinking Water & Wastewater Regulatory Law in late May 2025. The law essentially hands over control of the water infrastructure to private companies on a build-operate-transfer (BOT) basis. But aside from the law’s many troubling provisions, it lands amid an economic crisis. Inflation was last recorded at 16.2%, a steady increase in prices, a struggling workforce, and stagnant wages that have not remotely kept pace.

The macro frame is an IMF program that has made pricing, state dominance, and “leveling the playing field” core conditions. In other words, the state is yet again rewriting core tenets of its social contract with citizens at a time when household budgets are thinnest and lenders’ conditions are thickest.

Explaining the law’s provisions: what actually changes

Under the new Drinking Water and Wastewater Regulatory Law, regulatory authority has conveniently shifted from the Housing Ministry to a body that reports directly to the Prime Minister. The National Authority for Regulating Drinking Water and Wastewater Services (NARDWWS), established by presidential decree in 2004, is now entrusted with the power to set operator tariffs and consumer prices, and to issue licenses to private companies. 

The official draft of the law states: “The National Authority for Regulating Drinking Water and Wastewater Services is a public service entity affiliated with the Council of Ministers.” This affiliation seems to solidify the current regime’s inclination for centralized decision-making, continuing to raise serious questions about the transparency, or lack thereof, in regulatory practices. 

On licensing, the law explicitly allows private sector participation in “the construction, management, and operation” of drinking water treatment plants, sewage treatment plants, networks, pipelines, and storage tanks. Each license can be up to 15 years, and in exchange, private operators must sell water at government-approved rates. However, the law’s stated aim of cost recovery could lead to profit-driven motives overshadowing the public interest, potentially compromising access to affordable and clean water for vulnerable communities.

The annual regulatory fee is where the law gets creative. According to Article 54, operators are required to pay a small, volume-based annual fee. For the first five years, this fee is set at 1 piaster (EGP 0.01) per cubic meter. After five years, the fee increases by 20 percent each year until it reaches a maximum of EGP 0.02 per cubic meter by the tenth year. 

The annual payments are subject to a minimum fee of EGP 25,000 and a maximum fee of EGP 50 million. Some sources have referred to this fee as “2% of the [water] price per cubic meter,” but this is inaccurate. The law specifies that the fee is based on the volume of water produced, not the price. Fees are settled annually based on actual volumes and must be paid through non-cash methods, with the regulator issuing a yearly certificate.

Article 66 pushes for the nationwide implementation of prepaid water meters, where users pay in advance and receive warnings when their balance is low. If their credit runs out, their water supply stops, though official holidays are considered “grace periods” of sorts. As for the prices, they are ultimately set by the government, but since the new law essentially allows for private contracts and, by design, private companies need to make a profit, so costs may eventually rise for households or be absorbed by the state, which would likely reduce expenditure elsewhere. 

Many households in Egypt earn low wages and lack protective laws, making it harder for them to cope with rising water costs or service shut-offs. A huge share of workers are informal and excluded from wage laws, which means the people most likely to face shut-offs when their prepaid balance runs dry are also the least able to absorb repeated price bumps.

Finally, the law’s speech-policing clause. Article 73 fines anyone who “promotes rumors or false information by any means” about water quality between EGP 50,000 and 500,000, which ostensibly covers ordinary social media posts, not just newsrooms or journalists. 

Egypt’s track record with similar provisions is grim. Since 2018, a media law has treated personal accounts and blogs with 5,000+ followers as “media outlets,” exposing users to prosecution for “false news”; rights groups have documented repeated cases where that label was used to punish online speech. During the pandemic, authorities arrested health workers for allegedly “spreading false news” about COVID-19, underscoring how these laws reach far beyond professional media workers.

Reform by deadline: IMF strings attached and the military’s untouchable empire

Egypt’s 46-month $8 billion International Monetary Fund program is the catalyst to such a law and a calendar that matters. The latest IMF Article IV and Fourth Review Staff Report explicitly repeats calls for reforms around “leveling the playing field,” pricing transparency, and reducing state and military dominance. The fund’s press statements underscore stalled progress on structural reforms and the need to align prices with costs. The Fund also confirmed it is combining the fifth and sixth reviews to give the government more time, which only increases the incentive to show movement in regulated sectors like water.

The International Monetary Fund has repeatedly stated that state and military-owned firms enjoy privileges that crowd out private investment. Credible reporting around the Staff Report notes the continued dominance of state and military firms as a central obstacle to genuine reform; the Staff Report itself references around 97 military-owned companies across multiple civilian sectors. The Cabinet has promised partial sales of assets, but progress is slow and highly curated. However, selling a few stakes while raising utility prices, like water, may be politically easier than confronting tax exemptions, land access, and procurement channels that protect the military’s commercial ecosystem. That’s the trade-off the law sits inside.

The Jirian City megaproject concentrates that trade-off in one glittering canal. The megaproject in which the military is a partner will divert about 10 million cubic meters/day of Nile water to feed the new desert city’s human-made river. That is roughly 7% of Egypt’s annual Nile quota. 

While the Prime Minister describes the megaproject as “boosting land prices through innovative ideas,” when you’re living at ~500 m³ per person, sending up to seven percent of the Nile’s annual volume to a luxury-anchored development is a distributional choice. It redirects water from older delta cities toward real estate, and it will inevitably squeeze the same households the new law is preparing to meter, license, and police.

Treading a thin line

The United Nations recognizes water and sanitation as human rights, which means service must be available, accessible, and affordable for everyone, not just those who can prepay. Prepaid meters aren’t banned, but they cross the line if they lead to people losing water because they cannot load credit; the UN outright states that cutting off service for inability to pay is a retrogression and violates the right to water. 

States are expected to guarantee at least a basic essential supply, keep prices affordable, and build a real safeguards lifeline so that “smart” prepayment technology doesn’t become a barrier. And when private firms are involved, governments remain responsible for making sure contracts and profit motives don’t undermine affordability or exclude low-income users’ basic human right to water.

Egypt has been here before, in 2007–08, “thirst protests” erupted over shortages and injustices in allocation. If the new law’s primary ends up leading to higher prices, stricter shut-offs, and fewer safe channels to complain, it will more likely than not reproduce similar dynamics.

The road ahead

The law’s core is institutional plumbing to deliver what lenders want: clear tariff mechanics, a regulator with a Cabinet umbilical cord, and prepayment technology that moves credit risk from utilities to households. It does not tackle Egypt’s deep-rooted structural rot, especially the military’s commercial privileges or the megaproject habit that is about to divert 7% of Nile water to a desert city. 

If Egypt wants to make this law a foundation rather than a device to unlock IMF funds and attract private companies to partner with the state, it should guarantee a non-disconnectable human-rights minimum, publish real-time quality and outage data, and cut privileged empires before cutting household water.

The post Rewriting Egypt’s Social Contract Through Water appeared first on Untold.

There are indeed certain components aimed at enhancing worker protections, such as the abolition of “Form 6,” a pre-signed resignation form in the old law, often abused by employers, in addition to formally recognizing contemporary working arrangements like remote work, and, notably, broadening the definition of a ‘worker’ to potentially encompass segments of the vast informal economy.

However, a closer examination suggests a more complex and arguably bleaker reality for the nation’s workforce. Far from empowering workers, Law 14/2025 represents a significant regression, functioning as a facade for deepening neoliberal restructuring, a sophisticated tool for enhanced state and private capital control over the labor force, and a profound betrayal of worker rights in the guise of reformist language. 

The new law fundamentally entrenches, rather than alleviates, the already skewed balance of power between capital and labor in Egypt. Critically, as highlighted by the Egyptian Initiative for Personal Rights, its passage occurred through an abrupt and rushed deliberation process, violating accepted legislative procedures and lacking actual dialogue or worker consultation. 

This lack of dialogue contributes to what Prime Minister Mostafa Madbouly had previously admitted as a growing “crisis of trust“ between citizens and the government. EIPR aptly characterizes the legislation as a “lopsided law” that compounds the flaws of previous legislation, intensifying the government’s favoritism towards employers at the expense of workers.

An Illusion of Progress

Beneath the reformist rhetoric, the new labor law systematically dismantles existing, albeit imperfect, worker protections and introduces mechanisms that deepen economic hardship and job insecurity. Two areas illustrate this regressive trend: wages and contract stability.

The assault on wages is particularly concerning. Article 34 of the previous law mandated a minimum annual raise of 7% of the basic wage. In the new law, Article 12 reduces the annual raise to 3% of the social insurance subscription wage. This change has major consequences, as the insurance wage is often significantly lower than the actual basic wage, leading to a substantially smaller raise in real terms.

Moreover, the state-controlled National Wages Council, outlined in Article 101, a body dominated by government representatives heavily outnumbering worker representation, can exempt employers from paying even this minimal raise during vaguely defined “exceptional economic conditions,” as per Article 102, without clear criteria for such exemptions.

The law also entrenches job insecurity by failing to regulate fixed-term contracts. Articles 88 and 154 leave workers in a vulnerable position, as employers can use these contracts indefinitely, even for permanent job roles. There is little to no protection against the practice of not renewing contracts, which allows employers to dismiss workers without cause under the pretense of contract expiration. Only after five years of continuous service does a worker become entitled to a meager severance payment upon non-renewal. This aligns perfectly with exploitative neoliberal demands for labor “flexibility.”

The Director of the Women’s Program at the Center for Trade Union and Workers’ Services, Dr. Amal Abdel Hamid, warns that this permits arbitrary dismissal without fair compensation. EIPR also highlights how ambiguities and contradictions in termination articles permit such dismissals.

Additionally, Article 167 mandates that employees submit a written resignation and await administrative approval. While this may seem like a standard procedural detail, it amplifies the power imbalance during already insecure job situations, limiting a worker’s ability to leave for better opportunities.

Consequently, the system effectively traps workers from both sides; they can be easily dismissed at the employer’s discretion, yet face obstacles when trying to exit on their own terms. The new labor law in effect allows employers to treat workers as expendable resources, with their job security overshadowed by the convenience and interests of private capital.

The head of the economic and social rights unit at EIPR, Wael Gamal, points out that this structure fails to protect wages against high inflation and excludes the majority of the workforce, who are not covered by social insurance and thus receive no guaranteed raise at all. Kamal Abbas, the CTUWS general coordinator, criticized the lack of meaningful dialogue during the law’s development, stating, “dialogue around the law was very limited, and even on the rare occasion of a dialogue, it did not include any worker representation. Instead, it was mostly with the representatives of multinational corporations.”

Dr. Amal Abdelhamid echoed her colleagues’ statements, adding that many of their organizations’ suggestions were either partially addressed or completely ignored and that their repeated requests for worker representation in parliamentary hearings went unanswered.

Given the challenges of an already flawed and outdated law, the new labor law fails to address the existing issues workers face and creates opportunities for further employment abuses and exploitation while suppressing wages. EIPR called on the Egyptian president not to ratify the new law, advocating for salary increases tied to the total wage and indexed to inflation.

Mechanisms of Control

Beyond direct attacks on wages and job security, Law 14/2025 consolidates state and employer control over the workforce. It utilizes ministerial discretion and dismantles collective bargaining rights, particularly the right to strike, diminishing resistance and undermining worker autonomy.

Perhaps the most blatant power grab concerns collective action. The right to strike, a historically fundamental tool for labor, is rendered almost impotent, drawing sharp criticism from labor rights groups like the Center for Trade Union & Workers Services (CTUWS). While nominally recognized, exercising this right requires navigating numerous procedural hurdles.

Article 232 mandates that strikes must be notified to the employer and authorities at least ten days in advance, while strikes are banned entirely in vaguely defined “vital establishments.” Yet another rule-by-decree, Article 234 stipulates that it is yet to be determined by the Prime Minister what qualifies as a vital establishment.

As EIPR argues, these provisions impose further restrictions, removing workers’ “last remaining tool of leverage.” The 2024 Global Labor Rights Index currently rates Egypt poorly in terms of access to decent work, alongside a low score of 3/10 for workers’ right to strike. These new restrictions are unlikely to improve that rating.

A striking element of the law is its reliance on future ministerial decrees to define the specifics of worker rights in several pressing areas. Rather than safeguarding labor protections through legislation passed by parliament, the law shifts significant authority to the Minister of Manpower and other state bodies. Key regulations outline important aspects related to new work models, such as remote and part-time employment, as detailed in Article 100, which covers definition, contract guidelines, and implementation. Additionally, Articles 118, 119, and 123 may permit employers to implement 12-hour work shifts by providing exceptions to standard working hours and rest periods.

This “rule by decree” approach legitimizes state control over labor rights, bypasses democratic accountability, creates uncertainty for workers whose rights remain undefined, and allows the executive branch of the government to tailor regulations to suit shifting economic priorities or employer demands, far from public scrutiny or worker input.

Continuity of Oppression

While Law 14/2025 mainly impacts workers of the private sector, its harshest effects are reserved for the most vulnerable, reinforcing existing structures of inequality and ensuring the continuity of oppression for marginalized segments of the Egyptian working class. The law achieves this through both explicit exclusion and deliberately inadequate inclusion.

The most glaring example is the outright exclusion of domestic workers, like those who perform household services, from the law’s scope (Article 1, Promulgation), continuing the practice of the previous 2003 law (Article 4). This vast workforce, predominantly women, estimated by media reports and Private Sector Workers Syndicate head, Shaaban Khalifa, to be around 800,000 strong, remains entirely outside the scope of legal protection regarding wages, hours, leave, or dismissal. Decades of promises for specific legislation governing domestic work have yielded nothing, leaving these workers subject to the whims of their employers without any guarantees of their labor rights under the law. This deliberate omission, condemned again by EIPR, perpetuates the invisibility and hyper-exploitation inherent in domestic labor.

Similarly, the law’s approach to the massive informal or “unorganized” workforce, estimated by the International Labour Organization to constitute around 67% of the labor force, is deeply flawed. While Article 75 supposedly aims to organize and protect these workers, the actual mechanisms are weak and reliant on ministerial discretion. The law states its provisions apply if irregular workers are employed by an employer, but the crucial rules defining their rights, registration, and access to support are deferred to future ministerial decisions. Even seemingly positive steps, like definitions for workplace bullying or recognizing platform workers, are rendered hollow by a general lack of enforcement mechanisms, a point underscored by EIPR’s observation that the government has utterly failed to enforce its own minimum wage decisions in the private sector, making such laws effectively meaningless for workers.

Beyond these excluded groups, the law’s primary targets are the majority within the formal sector. Workers trapped in uncertain employment contracts, those reliant on the minimal annual wage increase now subject to employer exemptions, and those in sectors deemed “vital” who have lost the effective right to strike—these constitute the bulk of Egypt’s formally recognized workforce. By design, the law systematically dismantles workers’ bargaining power, leaves them more exposed to employer coercion, and diminishes their ability to organize collectively when their rights under the law are violated. 

This serves the dual purpose of ensuring a compliant, low-cost labor force attractive to private capital investment while simultaneously reinforcing the state’s political control by suppressing potential sources of organized dissent. The arrest and detention of nine striking workers from the Turkish-Egyptian Ready-Made Garments Company in Qalyubiyya—accused of inciting an unlawful strike after demanding better pay—illustrates how security forces criminalize basic forms of labor rights and resistance to employer violations, and extend repression beyond the factory floor into workers’ homes. It is merely one episode among many comparable cases in recent times.

The state’s prioritization of cheap labor as a key selling point to foreign capital was made explicit when President Sisi recently met with and brazenly told US business leaders, “We have labor whose cost is incomparable to any other place.” 

The “reform” ultimately benefits employers seeking “flexibility,” and the state seeking stability through control and neoliberal despotism, all at the expense of the working class.

Beyond the Facade

Egypt’s Labor Law No. 14 of 2025 is a constructed facade. The systematic erosion of worker rights, the consolidation of state and employer control, and the deepening entrenchment of neoliberal discipline. This law attacks wages, institutionalizes job insecurity through unregulated contracts, eviscerates the right to strike for crucial segments of the workforce, empowers unaccountable ministerial decrees over legislative rights, and deliberately excludes or marginalizes the most vulnerable workers, including domestic and informal laborers, continuing patterns seen in the previous 2003 law.

The passage of this law sheds light on the fact that legislative reforms under the current regime are designed to manage and control workers more effectively in the service of capital accumulation and “state stability.” It represents an intensification of policies that prioritize investor confidence, fueled by the promise of uniquely cheap labor, over worker dignity and security. The severity of its flaws led EIPR to publicly call for the bill’s return to parliament for complete reconsideration.

Real progress for Egyptian workers, and everywhere in the world, will not come from such top-down, state-managed “reforms.” It requires a fundamental shift in the balance of power. This necessitates the strengthening of independent, democratic trade unions capable of challenging employers when their rights are violated; the legislative guarantee of a living wage based on socioeconomic realities indexed to inflation; the inclusion of all workers, including domestic and informal workers, under protective legislation; and the right to organize and strike. Until then, laws like 14/2025 will remain what they are, instruments of repression under the thin veil of reform.

As the Egyptian state touts the new law as a landmark reform, workers across the country know all too well that rights on paper mean little without the power to claim them. In a country where the phrase “البلد دي فيها قانون” (this country has laws) is often wielded by authorities to coerce, silence, and intimidate, it has long been understood—especially by the most marginalized—that the law often serves power, not justice.

Even if Law 14 had offered stronger protections, its implementation would still depend on a system designed to deny workers the tools to demand their rights. True justice for Egypt’s working class requires more than legislative reform; it demands dismantling the structures of coercion, exclusion, and repression that define the current labor regime. Until then, “reform” will remain a hollow slogan, and the law another instrument to keep workers in check rather than set them free.

The post Law Without Justice: The Neoliberal Trap of Egypt’s Labor Reform appeared first on Untold.

Saudi Arabia commands one of the world’s largest oil outputs, purchases more U.S. weapons than any other country, and wields significant diplomatic and economic sway. Yet none of these levers were meaningfully activated to protect Palestinians.

This restraint was likely tied to its behind-the-scenes pursuit of normalization with Israel. The result is that Saudi Arabia’s potentially formidable, diplomatic influence, was reduced to symbolic rhetoric, offering Palestinians sympathy but no substantive protection.

By providing fuel, funds, and, arguably, cover to Israel’s genocide, Saudi Arabia crossed firmly into the territory of complicity. 

The oil keeps flowing

Despite the ongoing massacres and genocide in Palestine, Saudi Arabia, the wealthiest Arab state, has chosen effective silence over meaningful action. With routine condemnations in international forums, it pointedly refused to leverage its immense power to slow or stop the carnage. In stark contrast to 1973, when King Faisal wielded an oil embargo to pressure Israel’s war supporters, Saudi officials in 2023 assured Washington and Tel Aviv that no such oil leverage would be used. “That is not on the table today,” laughed Saudi investment minister Khalid al-Falih when pressed about an oil embargo to halt the Gaza war. 

Al-Falih emphasized that Saudi Arabia had “no intention” of using oil production to influence Israel’s actions, preferring “peaceful discussions” instead. This public stance all but gave the green light to Israel’s military campaign, signaling that the Kingdom would not disrupt business-as-usual in protest of Palestinian bloodshed.

Behind closed doors, Saudi Arabia’s behavior was even more troubling. Instead of applying pressure on Israel, the Saudi Crown Prince, Mohammed bin Salman, maintained, and even deepened strategic ties that indirectly fueled the assault on Gaza. 

Investigations reveal that Saudi Arabia continued to supply critical resources to Israel throughout the war. Oil exports are a prime example. A March 2024 report by Oil Change International traced how Israel consistently received shipments of crude oil via Egypt’s SUMED pipeline, a transit route that originates in Saudi Arabia and the UAE, even as bombs rained on Gaza. In fact, Saudi and Emirati oil made its way through this pipeline to Israeli refineries, providing fuel that powered Israeli jets and tanks. 

“Countries continuing to provide fuel to Israel are playing a part in enabling the ongoing violence,” the report warned. Saudi Arabia was named among those “implicated in supplying Israel with fuel” for its military operations. 

Investing in war

Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman single handedly controls the Public Investment Fund (PIF), which has poured billions into U.S. industries, including the defense sector. In recent years, the Saudi PIF quietly became a major stakeholder in U.S. arms manufacturers. It holds a $714 million stake in Boeing, and invested in other aerospace and technology firms deeply intertwined with U.S. military support for Israel. 

Read more: A Man with a Crown and Unchecked Power: Inside Saudi Arabia’s Public Investment Fund

These investments mean that Saudi money was, and still is, helping enrich the very companies arming Israel’s offensive. Rather than divest or threaten to pull these funds during the Gaza war, Saudi Arabia stayed the course, effectively betting on the war’s profiteers. 

Likewise, Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman (MBS) sent an astonishing $2 billion to former White House adviser Jared Kushner’s new equity fund, money that was explicitly earmarked to invest in Israeli tech firms. This 2022 deal marked the first known direct Saudi investment in Israel’s economy, breaking a taboo in exchange for anticipated political favors. 

By 2024, Kushner’s Saudi-funded firm had quietly acquired stakes in Israeli companies, some involved in sensitive sectors like cybersecurity and finance. In the midst of Gaza’s agony, Saudi capital was literally entangled in Israel’s high-tech and defense ecosystem, a stark conflict between the government’s proclaimed solidarity with Palestine and its monetary pursuits.

Perhaps the most brazen form of Saudi-Israeli collusion has been in security cooperation. Despite the absence of formal diplomatic relations, extensive evidence shows Riyadh and Tel Aviv working in tandem on military and intelligence matters. A telling example is the NSO Group’s notorious Pegasus spyware, an Israeli cyber weapon. 

In 2017, MBS struck a secret $55 million deal with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to obtain Pegasus, with Israel’s Defense Ministry approving Saudi use of the spyware. The quid pro quo was clear: not only did Saudi Arabia acquire a tool it later used for human rights violations and to hack dissidents, but MBS opened Saudi airspace to Israel and refrained from criticizing the U.S.-brokered Abraham Accords as part of the bargain. 

This clandestine pact underscores that Riyadh and Tel Aviv have moved from being secret contacts to strategic partners, aligning against common foes like Iran and sharing weapons technology. It is little surprise, then, that as Israeli warplanes pounded Gaza, Saudi Arabia offered no resistance; the two states’ military interests have quietly converged. 

Yemen: A mirror of Saudi Arabia’s own war crimes

Saudi complicity in the violence against Palestinians comes into even sharper relief when viewed alongside the Kingdom’s own conduct in Yemen. Since 2015, Saudi Arabia has led a brutal military intervention in Yemen that has killed and starved tens of thousands of civilians with the U.S. and UK supplying the warplanes and bombs. 

In Yemen, the Saudi-led coalition’s airstrikes have hit school buses, weddings, marketplaces, and hospitals with horrifying regularity, drawing accusations of war crimes from the U.N. and human rights organizations. Saudi forces imposed a prolonged blockade on Yemen ports, using starvation of civilians as a method of warfare, a flagrant war crime under international law. 

Yet, despite overwhelming evidence of egregious abuses, Saudi Arabia, like Israel, has faced virtually no consequences. Instead, it has leveraged its economic and diplomatic influence to escape censure, pressuring the U.N. to shutter a war crimes investigation in Yemen in 2021, and muzzling media criticism through lucrative arms and oil deals with Western powers. This reflects the impunity that is now extended to Israel. 

Saudi Arabia’s inferred support has given Israel a layer of regional cover, fragmenting what could have been a unified Arab front pressuring Tel Aviv to halt its onslaught.

The parallels are striking. In both Yemen and Gaza, warplanes bombed children with impunity, and those supplying the warplanes walked free, signaling to aggressors worldwide that with the right friends, war crimes will be ignored and even facilitated.

As Washington continues to court Saudi Arabia with security pacts and business deals, it is effectively rewarding MBS while he helps “America’s closest ally”, Israel, as they decimate Gaza. This realpolitik comes at the cost of fundamental human values.

If apartheid-like conditions and mass killings of Palestinians are ever to end, all enablers must be named, and that includes Arab states.

We are witnessing the cumulative result of double standards; one set of rules for Western-aligned powers and their friends, another set for their foes. 

In Gaza and the West Bank, countless Palestinians are grieving lost family members and watching their homeland effectively burn to ashes. In Yemen, an entire generation of children is growing up stunted and traumatized. Saudi Arabia is deeply implicated in both tragedies, by commission in one and omission in the other. 

The post Blood, Oil, and Silence: Saudi Arabia’s Role in War Crimes From Yemen to Gaza appeared first on Untold.

Sovereign wealth funds are usually meant to provide financial stability or act as an economic cushion during economic crises. However, in the case of Saudi Arabia, the Public Investment Fund (PIF) under the control of MBS, has been linked to what Human Rights Watch called “abuses” while being used as a transformative tool to shape geopolitical and economic landscapes. While its rapid expansion has cemented Saudi Arabia’s place as a key player in the region and to a certain extent, on the world stage, it has also brought to attention the fund’s autocratic governance, systemic human rights abuses, and its role in normalizing regional repressive methods.

Consolidating power: The rise of the PIF

The transformation of the PIF from a relatively obscure financial institution into a $925 billion powerhouse is symbolic of MBS’s total consolidation of power. Established in 1971, the PIF managed $84 billion in assets until as recently as 2014. However, MBS’s father, King Salman bin Abdulaziz Al Saud’s ascension to the throne in January 2015 marked a turning point for the fund. The creation of the Council of Economic and Development Affairs (CEDA), chaired by MBS, brought the PIF under his direct control through Decree 270 in March of that year. This structural change paved the way for a dramatic expansion of the fund’s role and resources. In 2016, Vision 2030 was announced, with the PIF positioned as its financial engine. 

MBS’s appointment as Crown Prince in June 2017 further solidified his control. That same year, the so-called “anti-corruption campaign” resulted in the mass detention of businessmen, government officials, and royal family members at the Ritz-Carlton hotel in Riyadh. Many detainees were coerced into surrendering assets as what they called “financial settlements”, including shares in companies, which were transferred directly to the PIF. By December 2017, CEDA board member and Minister of State, Mohammed al Sheikh had overseen the transfer of what is said to be around $100 billion into the fund, further centralizing wealth under MBSs authority.

This display of unequivocal consolidation of power extends beyond the PIF. Best personified in November 2024 when the Crown Prince personally chaired the Cabinet session to approve Saudi Arabia’s 2025 budget. With revenues estimated at $316 billion and expenditures at $343 billion, the budget reflects a $27 billion deficit. MBS’s approval of an annual budget that he proposed, to himself, coupled with his discretion over its implementation, exemplifies a governance model devoid of transparency or accountability. The allocation of state resources to vanity projects like NEOM encapsulates the authoritarian nature of how the PIF is managed.

The consolidation of power extends beyond the PIF. In March 2024, the Crown Prince announced the transfer of 8% of Saudi Aramco’s shares to PIF-owned companies, reducing state ownership to 82.186%. Framed as a move to diversify the economy and expand investments under Vision 2030, the transfer was mainly a lifeline for PIF’s financial position and credit rating, all the while, giving MBS even greater control over the kingdom’s most valuable asset by far, and one of only seven companies worldwide that form what is colloquially referred to as the “Trillion-Dollar Club”. The statement accompanying the announcement vaguely referred to the transfer as a “continuation of Saudi Arabia’s long-term initiatives to boost and diversify the national economy and expand investment opportunities”, with little regard for the already worrisome nature of such consolidations of power.

In July 2024, PIF claimed the highest accreditation level, “Level 5: Optimized,” for its Strategy and Performance Management System from The KPI Institute. The recognition  by the “global authority on Key Performance Indicators (KPIs) research” is of course based on evaluation of performance indicators, however, no details about the “more than 300 items” or criteria evaluated in the case of PIF were disclosed publicly. This raises questions about the value of such accolades when tied to an institution already shrouded in secrecy.

The fund’s deals extended to technology with its October 2024 partnership with Google Cloud to establish a global AI hub in Saudi Arabia’s Eastern Province. The project, announced at the Future Investment Initiative, aims to generate $71 billion in GDP over eight years while advancing Arabic-language AI models. Yet, the partnership underscores the paradox of positioning Saudi Arabia as a technological leader while the kingdom continues to suppress freedom of expression and dissent with technology being one of the tools exploited to do so.

In January 2025, PIF announced its acquisition of a 23.08% stake in the Saudi Reinsurance Company (Saudi Re) through a capital increase and subscription to new shares. The move, described as essential for retaining reinsurance premiums domestically, highlighted PIF’s growing dominance and the ongoing trend of extending control over critical sectors of the economy. The statement issued publicly seemed to carefully make it a point of mentioning “shareholder consent” as an achievement of sorts, which justifiably raises familiar concerns about the rubber-stamping of significant transactions.

The fund’s financial maneuvers extended further in the same month, January 2025, with PIF securing its first Murabaha credit facility for $7 billion. Promoted as part of a diversified funding strategy, this Shariah-compliant structure is supported by a syndicate of 20 international and regional financial institutions that remain unnamed. However, the announcement fails to address the broader implications of the fund’s reliance on debt to sustain its investment spree. The fund’s increasing engagement with external lenders only underscores the lack of transparency and long-term clarity in its operations.

The human toll of Saudi Arabia’s Vision 2030

The PIF’s entanglement in systemic human rights abuses is extremely troubling. The construction of NEOM, announced in 2017 and funded by the PIF, exemplifies this. In January 2020, residents of Al Khuraiba, Sharma, and Gayal were informed of their impending eviction to make way for the project.

By April, Saudi security forces had killed Abdulrahim al-Huwaiti, a local activist who protested the displacement, in what was described as an “extrajudicial killing”. Leading up to his killing, the victim recorded a 12-minute video saying, “I would not be surprised if they come to kill me in my house now, and place a weapon next to me,” Before recording another video of security forces in front of his house on the same day, “See them? The police have come to get me,”  he proclaimed. 

Residents of the area recorded footage from outside his house where multiple gunshots could be heard, another video after the incident was uploaded showing the inside of al-Huwaiti’s house with walls completely defaced by bullet holes. Authorities released a statement claiming precisely what the victim had already said he would be accused of, and stating that he was killed in an exchange of gunshots with security forces and that two police officers had been injured in the process, without providing any evidence. His death was followed by the sentencing of three of his relatives to death in October 2022 for resisting eviction.

The scale of displacement linked to NEOM has barely drawn any meaningful public condemnation. By 2024, thousands of residents had been forcibly evicted, often with little to no compensation, to make way for futuristic megaprojects, or as they are referred to on the official PIF website, “Giga-Projects”. The lack of stakeholder consultation or avenues for redress just further exemplifies the systematic disregard for human rights in Saudi Arabia’s development strategy.

The violations perpetrated against the Huwaitat tribe are not isolated incidents. There have also been large-scale demolitions and evictions of approximately half a million people in connection with the $20 billion Jeddah Central Development project. According to a survey that was carried out in 2022, over 70% of residents in the historic inner city have been left without financial compensation or adequate means to relocate elsewhere. The way these projects have been implemented further showcases the complete disregard of people’s livelihoods in the face of the Crown Prince’s vision of development.

Beyond PIF-specific projects, labor exploitation remains a pervasive issue in Saudi Arabia. A recently published documentary by British ITV claims that up to 21,000 workers have died while constructing NEOM’s The Line, with another 100,000 more reportedly missing. Furthermore, Amnesty International recently published a report on Carrefour facilities in Riyadh, Dammam, and Jeddah revealing widespread abuse of migrant workers, recruited under false pretenses and subjected to grueling 16-hour workdays. Workers from Nepal, India, and Pakistan described being underpaid, forced to live in squalid housing, and threatened with dismissal if they resisted overtime. One former warehouse picker compared their treatment to that of “animals,” stressing the prevalent and systemic dehumanization of laborers. Carrefour’s franchising partner, UAE-based Majid Al Futtaim, failed to address these violations adequately, pointing to possible complicity from the Emirati holding company in labor exploitation under Saudi Arabia’s kafala system, which prohibits unionization and offers no guaranteed minimum wage.

The much-scrutinized kafala system, which binds workers to their employers, leaving them vulnerable to abuse, remains a linchpin of labor exploitation. Despite promises of reform, migrant workers continue to report widespread wage theft, overcrowded housing, and retaliation for raising grievances. The International Labour Organization (ILO) is now considering a landmark complaint against Saudi Arabia, demanding comprehensive reforms to its labor laws.

Sportswashing as a strategy for global influence

Investments in sports and entertainment have been the main tool used by the PIF to somewhat sanitize Saudi Arabia’s international image and avoid facing widespread scrutiny from the international community. Its acquisition of an 80% stake in English Premier League football club Newcastle United for $415 million in 2021, is a prime example of this strategy. The move was widely criticized as an attempt to sportswash Saudi Arabia’s human rights record, but the controversy surrounding the deal seemed to simmer down pretty quickly. 

Another instance of the wealth fund being used in football took place in 2019 when the Saudi government agreed to pay $310 million over ten years for the hosting rights of the annual Spanish Super Cup competition until 2029. Tensions between these investments and the nation’s realities have posed sociological challenges. Following a match that was hosted in Jeddah in January 2025, between Real Madrid and Mallorca, wives of Mallorca players reported being harassed by local fans, with incidents of physical groping and aggressive filming highlighting the lack of security measures at such events.

The PIF’s foray into sports extends beyond football. Saudi Arabia’s investments in Formula 1, boxing, and the LIV Golf tour have also drawn similar criticism for deflecting attention from domestic human rights abuses through the use of a non-disparagement clause (NDA) that prevents the Professional Golfers’ Association and its officials from criticizing Saudi Arabia’s human rights record. These ventures, coupled with the kingdom’s bid for the 2034 FIFA World Cup, underscore the centrality of sportswashing in Saudi Arabia’s global strategy.

Fresh off the controversy that has surrounded the 2022 World Cup in Qatar, there has been widespread claims that FIFA has been complicit in thousands of laborers’ deaths leading up to the competition due to poor working conditions. 

The decision to award Saudi Arabia the 2034 FIFA World Cup has brought renewed scrutiny to FIFA and to the PIF’s role in international diplomacy. FIFA’s evaluation of Saudi Arabia’s bid, which awarded it a record-breaking average score of 4.2 out of 5, overlooked critical human rights concerns. A 23-page briefing by human rights organization, ALQST, details the systemic risks associated with hosting the tournament. Typically, FIFA requires candidates to submit a human rights strategy addressing the human rights risks in the potential host nation. As highlighted in the report, FIFA evaluated the bid based on a seemingly flawed independent human rights context assessment that was commissioned by the Saudi Arabian Football Federation. The categories of evaluation included forced displacement, labor exploitation and discrimination under the kafala system, freedom of expression, and the criminalization of dissent, all of which the Saudi bid falls short of actually meeting.

The broader repercussions of PIF’s controversial strategies

The Saudi Arabian Public Investment Fund’s rise is emblematic of the challenges posed by authoritarian regimes wielding economic power on a global scale. Despite the Santiago Principles advocating for transparency in sovereign wealth funds, PIF remains shrouded in secrecy, with decisions driven by political expediency rather than public interest. This lack of checks and balances has far-reaching consequences, from worsening domestic inequalities to undermining international norms.

The international community’s failure to hold Saudi Arabia and its de facto head of state, MBS accountable has only emboldened the regime. Human rights watchdogs have reported unprecedented attacks on human rights defenders and social media critics of the state and government.

Domestically, PIF’s prioritization of so-called ‘Giga-Projects’ like NEOM comes at the expense of social welfare. Poverty remains a pressing issue in Saudi Arabia, with 13.6% of Saudi nationals living below the poverty line, a figure that excludes vulnerable populations such as migrant workers. 

Saudi Arabia’s PIF is both a testament to the kingdom’s ambitions and a reflection of its systemic flaws. Under MBS, it has become a tool for consolidating power, perpetuating human rights abuses, and reshaping global norms. While its investments promise and to a degree have achieved economic transformation, they come at a steep social and ethical cost. 

The absence of a consequential dialogue about the ethical implications of ‘sportswashing’ and the complicity of global institutions in legitimizing authoritarian regimes is inexcusable. The international community must grapple with the implications of allowing autocrats to wield such influence unchecked, lest we normalize a world where power supersedes accountability and human dignity.

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