Saudi Arabia Will Sell You Alcohol Now, if You’re Rich Enough, a headline that seems almost designed to spark both outrage and a knowing chuckle. The situation, as it unfolds, underscores a deeply ingrained reality: that in many places, especially those governed by strictures, access to certain freedoms, or in this case, a bottle of something stronger than a soft drink, often boils down to one thing – how much money you have. This isn’t exactly a new concept, but the brazenness of its application here is striking.

It seems the liquor store, which was previously a privilege reserved for diplomats (who, of course, are exempt from the prohibition), has expanded its clientele to include non-Muslim foreigners holding the coveted “premium residency” permit. This permit, by the way, comes with a hefty price tag, roughly $213,000 USD. So, in essence, if you’re wealthy enough to afford the golden visa, you can also afford a stiff drink. The irony isn’t lost on anyone. It’s a clear signal that the rules, and the ability to bend them, are tailored to a specific demographic.

This move raises several interesting points. Firstly, it highlights the deeply hypocritical nature of certain societies. A country that, let’s be blunt, has a problematic track record when it comes to human rights and basic freedoms, is now opening up to the sale of alcohol, but only for a select few. It’s the ultimate “rules for thee, but not for me” scenario. The rich, and presumably the connected, have always had access to what they desire, whether it’s alcohol, exclusive parties, or even private entertainment. This situation simply makes it more publicly acknowledged.

It’s worth noting that this isn’t necessarily a brand-new phenomenon. Anecdotes from those who have spent time in Saudi Arabia suggest that, for years, getting alcohol wasn’t exactly impossible, especially for Westerners or other foreigners. The key was to keep it discreet, out of the public eye. Now, however, the process has become somewhat more formalized, or perhaps just less secret. It’s no longer about whispers and back-room deals; it’s about paying the price of entry.

The fundamental issue is the concept that religion, which often forms the moral backbone of a society, seems to be a selective tool of control rather than a set of universally applied principles. This is not about the supposed religious prohibition of alcohol; it is about the wielding of power and the control of resources. It would appear that money can buy almost anything, even in a society that outwardly claims to adhere to strict religious guidelines. The whole notion that the law is about religion anymore is a far reach, it now represents class warfare with extra steps.

The implications of this move are interesting when viewed in light of Saudi Arabia’s broader ambitions. The country is trying to project a more modern image to the world, investing heavily in sports and tourism. The addition of the new liquor stores plays into this, offering a slightly altered narrative. It’s a way of saying, “Come, enjoy our country, and if you’re important enough, you can have what you want”. But does it really address the core issues of human rights and personal freedom? The answer, unfortunately, is a resounding no.

It makes you wonder about the Saudis themselves. While rich expats can enjoy the luxury of buying alcohol without leaving the country, wealthy Saudi nationals still face a different reality. Many will take weekend trips to places like Bahrain or Dubai for a drink. The difference in treatment shows a fundamental disconnect, a society that doesn’t just embrace a double standard, but practically flaunts it.

There are questions about how common expat jobs are that will pay enough to afford the residency permit, or the amount of salary required to be considered rich enough to buy the premium residency, but those are secondary to the bigger picture. It isn’t just about the access to alcohol; it’s about the broader implications of a system where privilege is so explicitly tied to wealth. The idea of access to a basic freedom being restricted on class lines is, to say the least, troubling.

Ultimately, the story of Saudi Arabia selling alcohol to the rich is a reflection of a society that has always favored those in power, and now, those with enough money. It’s a classic case of control and influence, where religious principles and laws are, at best, selectively applied. In the end, it’s not really about the alcohol. It’s about the underlying structures of power, the inherent inequalities, and the stark reality that, in many parts of the world, money truly does buy access to a different set of rules.