Saudi Arabia is spending big on IT, and on artificial intelligence (AI) in particular, in an effort to diversify from its historic, massive dependency on oil production and revenues.
One huge advantage it has is that it has the cash, with $15bn of planned investment in AI announced at Leap 2025 near Riyadh last week.
The event was wall-to-wall with speakers who wove a vision of Saudi Arabia as an IT-driven superpower, a regional datacentre hub and hive of digital innovation and transformation, all encapsulated in the kingdom’s Vision 2030 plans.
Speaker after speaker conjured persuasive impressions of Saudi Arabia’s actual and potential potency in IT terms, but to get there it will require a critical mass of tech company presence. That will also mean attracting talent and nurturing its own through education. It also requires infrastructure, physical and digital.
Those are all recognised, as is the desire to transition from being an economy dominated by the state sector. So, how far is the kingdom along that road, and can it overcome the challenges it faces?
As is often the case at events like this, it feels like there’s a huge disparity between the visions of enthusiastic speakers and life beyond the doors of the event halls. And as a long-time visitor to and observer of the region – with enough Arabic to get around independently – it appears there are some key challenges in the path of Saudi Arabia’s ambitious plans to be a developed digital economy.
In one sense, that’s to be expected as the country is nearer the start of its journey rather than the end. But I was left wondering, was the show itself a microcosm that highlighted some of the obstacles?
Getting there
Take getting to the conference. The local taxi app, Careem, advertised 100% off for Leap attendees. It didn’t work. When I arrived at the event via my first ride, I couldn’t pay via the app, except by charging a wallet in UAE currency, which didn’t seem practical or wise given that wasn’t the country I was in. And so I couldn’t get the discount because I had to pay using cash dollars (always a useful fallback).
Meanwhile, the show lacked a taxi lane to take attendees to the right part of the site. Instead, I was dumped in a vast car park a long way from the main exhibition area, which covered a site of several km2. Uber drivers seemed to be persona non grata on-site, as one I went with quickly switched the placard in his window to Careem as he approached the venue.
It was also impossible to hail an Uber to the site as the designated pickup spot seemed locked down by drivers set on chiselling the highest possible fare out of attendees. Drivers were understandably desperate to recoup the outlay inherent in having driven 60km from Riyadh and hanging around all day. On one such occasion, I had to threaten to call the police when a taxi driver suddenly announced a doubling of fare after a near two-hour journey from the event to Riyadh. A photo of his meter taken at 7:30pm showed it had been running from 10:30 that morning.
Catching taxis often involved drama. I even had the interesting experience of hailing an Uber, the app telling me it had arrived and was then on its way to my destination without me in it. I wouldn’t have taken so many taxis, but in Riyadh, if there was a main road in the way – think eight lanes of high volume, high speed traffic – it was the only way to get across.
Inside the event, speakers were scattered across numerous stages over a vast area. The show app’s map was tiny, physical maps were non-existent and signage was only useful if you were already near where you wanted to go.
There were many hundreds of staff. Their tabards said “crowd control” and they seemed mostly there to make sure the huge numbers of attendees walked on the right side of the walkways between stands or had badges scanned.
Asking directions was overwhelmingly fruitless as “crowd control” staff rarely knew where anything was. I was reminded of the issue of underemployment, a phenomenon present historically among Arab armies and civil bureaucracies, where huge numbers of people do only basic work or none at all, and lack training and the initiative that can result from it.
Meanwhile, if consulting the app map was needed, the Wi-Fi failed at just the wrong time. I missed numerous sessions because navigating the event was so difficult.
We’ll leave aside the queues for male toilets that stretched 25 people long into the main halls.
Digital transformation
What’s all this got to do with achieving digital transformation goals? Well, as a UK-based journalist, I probably fit the description of skilled foreign worker, perhaps not of a dissimilar level to the kind of tech staff Saudi-based employers may want to attract.
Talent retention involves making sure those people’s lives can run smoothly.
Sure, you can overcome the daily hassles of life in Saudi by throwing money at them, providing drivers and fixers, and so on, but that’s not removing an obstacle, it’s working around it.
Meanwhile, many of the mundane issues of daily life I got a taste of are the result of the stratification and inequality in Saudi society, which has documented challenges in the number and condition of foreign workers as well as overcoming historic deficits in its education system.
Again, sure, there are plenty of well-educated Saudis that speak flawless English, but that route is not one open to all members of society, and that’s a restriction on the talent pool that developed countries don’t face, or face to a far lesser extent.
That’s compounded by the domination of the public sector, in which influence and family mean progression is likely often a case of who you know or are related to.
Having said all of that, all the Saudis I met were warm, generous and hospitable to a level that’s totally disarming to a northern European. And like people everywhere, if given the right chance, I’m sure they will rise to the challenges in front of them. The question is, how painlessly can Saudi state and society navigate the change required for that to happen?