Joanna Blythman on a holiday hot-spot

Fancy a holiday in Dubai? What's not to like? After all, this Arab emirate is, according to its foremost property development company "the ultimate in every conceivable comfort and amenity if a country could be five star then Dubai would be it".

Personally, I have never felt the slightest urge to go there. The climate is hot as hell - well, temperatures on this southern coast of the Persian Gulf are upwards of 40 degrees centigrade, or 104 fahrenheit for much of the year - so you're looking at one long dash from the beach to your air-conditioned hotel room.

Anyone I know who has visited returns duly impressed by the hotels which, in Kuoni-speak "offer luxury and opulence in aspirational Arabic style". That translates as tonnes of glitzy gold, ostentatious marble, endless satellite TV channels, a choice of infinity pools and manicured golf courses. Otherwise, they paint a picture of one large building site-cum-shopping plaza, the near impossibility of being a pedestrian in a place constructed around highways, resorts and skyscrapers, and a dearth of things to explore that are old, or even mildly interesting from a cultural point of view.

Still, Dubai has become a popular destination for Scots ever since Emirates began flights from Glasgow airport in 2003. I can see one attraction. With Dubai as a hub, we can get to Asia, Australia, the Indian subcontinent and Africa and bypass London's oversubscribed airports. The Emirates airline is brilliant. It seems to have abolished the concept of delays, its staff look positively pleased to work for it and its food is highly edible.

But do I actually want to spend any time in the emirate? I think not. Having a holiday in Dubai is beginning to look as politically unaware as going on safari in apartheid South Africa or taking a cruise down the Irrawaddy in military junta-run Burma.

Even the World Trade Organisation, not a body generally given to elevating human rights over wealth creation, has harsh words for Dubai: "The situation of migrant workers, which constitute about 95% of the private sector workforce, is particularly worrisome since they may be excluded from the scope of labour law, as in the case of domestic workers, and face the risk of deportation when claiming their rights. Abuses committed against migrant workers include non-payment of wages, extended working hours without overtime compensation, unsafe working environments resulting in death and injury, and withholding of passports and travel documents by employers."

Human Rights Watch's 2006 report - Building Towers, Cheating Workers - said that behind the glitter and luxury, the experiences of these migrant workers present a much less attractive picture of "wage exploitation, indebtedness to unscrupulous recruiters, and working conditions that are hazardous to the point of being deadly".

A US State Department report in 2006 described the situation of south Asian domestic workers in the United Arab Emirates (of which Dubai is one) as "grim".

You can catch a glimpse of the two faces of Dubai at its airport. Down at the Duty Free end, a 5400m temple to Mammon (motto: Fly, Buy, Dubai), dazed tourists wander around looking at Rolex watches, Gucci handbags and admiring the glittering contents of the gold shop or the sheen on the bonnet of a Jaguar XK150 coupe.

At the other end, there is barely space to walk because of sad little huddles of migrant workers from countries such as Pakistan, India, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh who look more worked to exhaustion than merely jet-lagged. You can see them, stretched out on flattened cardboard boxes or thin, worn blankets, trying to get some sleep, heads resting on each other's laps, or sharing little packages of food. These are the people - the construction workers, the maids, the cleaners, the beach sweepers, the grass clippers - on whom Dubai's tourism boom depends.

The contrast in Dubai between the world of the tourist and that of 95% of its workforce should trouble the conscience of would-be visitors. It goes beyond the standard moral predicament of thoughtful tourists who have qualms about how their Western affluence allows them to lord it in poorer countries. In most of these countries, the consoling thought is that at least some money from tourism does filter down to local people.

Every waiter, every hotel construction worker, chambermaid, pool boy and gardener is supporting an extended family and glad of money they would not otherwise have, even if it is not enough. But Dubai's migrant workers are seething with anger about their treatment, as two years of riots and informal strikes testify.

This abuse of migrant workers particularly sticks in the throat because Dubai is not some impoverished third world country in hock to the World Bank, but one of the richest.

With its man-made archipelagos of exclusive islands for millionaires, its artificial alpine ski slope complete with "real" snow for the mindless rich who are bored with the beach, and its proposed new 80-storey rotating skyscraper, the emirate revels in its conspicuous wealth.

Dubai is all about money, either having it or spending it. Until it starts sharing its bounty more equitably with the migrant workers who help create it, it remains a curiously unappealing destination.