A young man in a vivid green thobe and yellow turban lays on his stomach, absorbed in a book. In Young Emir Studying by Osman Hamdi Bey, the subject's right hand props his chin, while the fingers of his left hand trace the lines from right to left – a remnant of the old Ottoman Turkish script written in Arabic letters.
I often think about this niche that the young man, an emir no less, has carved for himself. From his title – Arabic for “prince” – we can assume he had access to every distraction and luxury, yet chose to spend his time reading and learning. Had this emir lived in 2025, would he still hold a book? Or a phone? Would he study a sacred or historical text, or scroll endlessly through social media?
Digital access isn’t all-bad; the internet can also be a vessel for learning. My thoughts drift to the young women of Afghanistan, once again barred from education, whose only refuge was online learning – until their internet was cut off for days.
Back to printed books. The UAE is fortunate to host several literary festivals, with Abu Dhabi International Book Fair and Sharjah International Book Fair both dating back to the early 1980s. Dubai added its own in the 2000s with the Emirates Airline Festival of Literature.
Sharjah’s event, which is among the region’s oldest and most popular, just wrapped its latest edition, attracting 1.4 million visitors from 206 countries.
Since the rise of social media, young people, particularly in the Arab world, have struggled to disengage from screens and rediscover the joys of play and reading. Acknowledging this, Dubai launched the Arab Reading Challenge in 2015, drawing millions of participants from across the region. The initiative rewards enthusiasm for books, but it must complement the guidance of parents, guardians and teachers, whose example remains vital amid the temptations of instant gratification.
Young Emir Studying remains one of Louvre Abu Dhabi’s most beloved works, constantly drawing crowds in person and views online. A sister version, painted in 1905, hangs at the Walker Art Gallery in Liverpool, though it lacks the rich palette of the Abu Dhabi original. So admired is the green-robed emir that the museum now offers him on prints, postcards and other keepsakes. He embodies the Arabic proverb: “A book is the best of all companions.”
Today, like that young emir, we face endless diversions – digital and otherwise. Perhaps, then, we should follow his example – open a book, newspaper or magazine, and let ourselves be absorbed, uninterrupted by social media’s noise and its seductive, fleeting pull.
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