The United Arab Emirates, a shimmering desert mirage where the skyline is constructed of glass, steel, and the unbridled hubris of the carbon-credit age, has decided to adjust the shackles of its bureaucratic class. In a move that is being heralded by the usual chorus of simpering sycophants as a ‘leap forward,’ lawmakers are now pushing for a 95-day paid maternity leave for government employees. Ninety-five days. Not three months, which would be too round and human, and not a hundred, which might suggest actual generosity. No, ninety-five is the magic number plucked from some consultant’s spreadsheet, calculated to provide the absolute minimum amount of time required for a human infant to stop resembling a sentient potato before its mother is dragged back into the glorious machinery of the state. It is a masterpiece of bureaucratic theater, designed to look like progress while ensuring the gears of the federal entity continue to grind without missing a beat.

Naturally, the Left will applaud this as a victory for ‘well-being,’ ignoring the reality that the state is simply subsidizing the production of future taxpayers. The Right, meanwhile, will clutch their pearls at the thought of the ‘private sector’ being infected by such unearned leisure, as if the sanctity of a corporate P&L statement is more sacred than the basic biological imperative of the species. Both sides, as usual, are missing the point: this isn't about families, and it certainly isn't about ‘stability.’ It is about retention. It is about making sure the cogs in the government machine don’t rust or wander off into the private sector where the leave is even more abysmal. The UAE lawmakers are engaging in the oldest trick in the book—giving the people a slightly longer leash so they don’t notice they’re still in the kennel.

The rhetoric surrounding this proposal is particularly nauseating. The summary mentions ‘enhanced family-friendly policies’ and ‘employee well-being.’ These are the kind of hollow, neoliberal buzzwords that make one want to gargle glass. If the UAE actually cared about well-being, they wouldn't need to legislate ‘stronger domestic abuse protections’ in the same breath. There is something profoundly grim about a government that has to simultaneously offer you an extra week of leave and a guarantee that your spouse shouldn't legally be allowed to pulverize you. It’s a holistic approach to human existence, I suppose: we’ll protect you from the fist and then give you ninety-five days to recover before you return to the desk to process the paperwork for the next skyscraper. It’s a cynical trade-off that treats the human experience as a series of risk-management assessments.

Then there is the looming shadow of the private sector. The lawmakers are ‘calling’ for flexible work options there, too, but everyone knows the dance. To change the private sector, one must amend the ‘current labor laws.’ In the world of business, ‘amending labor laws’ is a process slower than the erosion of a mountain. Private sector entities view maternity leave as an annoying glitch in the system—a temporary malfunction of a biological unit that could be better served by a robot. The government dangles the 95-day carrot to its own workers while the private sector holds onto its stick, waiting for the ‘necessitated amendments’ to die in a committee room filled with men in expensive suits who haven't seen their own children since the inauguration of the Burj Khalifa. It is a tiered system of misery where the ‘federal entities’ get the luxury of 13.5 weeks, and the rest of the workforce is left to pray that their manager has a fleeting moment of empathy between quarterly reviews.

Ultimately, this is the tragedy of the modern world. We are so starved for basic dignity that we celebrate 95 days of paid leave as if it were a declaration of independence. We ignore the fact that the state is merely granting us a temporary furlough from the cubicle to ensure that the next generation of cubicle-dwellers is sufficiently socialized to accept their own future 95-day crumbs. It is a cycle of performative kindness that masks a deeper, more profound indifference to the human spirit. The UAE’s ‘family stability’ is the stability of a well-oiled machine, nothing more. You get your ninety-five days to bond, to weep, and to wonder where your life went, and then the state demands its pound of flesh back, with interest. It’s not a policy; it’s a temporary stay of execution for the soul. And we, the mindless masses, are expected to applaud as the clock ticks down to day ninety-six.