An exploration of how Cairo’s transformation into a real estate venture is reshaping its urban and social fabric.
Cairo embodies a striking dichotomy, where the past and present intertwine in a complex coexistence. Historic districts pulse with life, their winding alleys and centuries-old markets standing in stark contrast to the sleek glass towers and sprawling developments of the modern metropolis. This duality extends beyond architecture, manifesting in deep divides between the city’s centre and periphery, where disparities in infrastructure, services, and accessibility shape daily life. While the historic heart remains vibrant and deeply rooted in tradition, the city’s rapid expansion has created isolated enclaves, reflecting the ever-widening gap between heritage and progress. As older neighbourhoods disappear under the weight of gentrification and new mega-projects emerge, Cairo’s identity as a shared, collective space is being steadily eroded.
In an article for Raseef22, Ahmed El-Fakharany explores how urban planning in Cairo has shifted from social needs and toward real estate speculation. The construction of exclusive residential compounds, the privatisation of public spaces, and the emphasis on large-scale infrastructure projects reflect deeper economic and political transformation. This is not just a matter of changing skylines—it is about who has access to the city and who is pushed to its margins. The creation of the New Administrative Capital is perhaps the most notable example of this shift, relocating governmental and economic power away from Cairo’s historical core to a purpose-built city that primarily serves the elite. This move raises the question: Is Cairo being redeveloped for its people, or is it being sold to the highest bidder?
Historically, the city has been shaped by the people who inhabit it: its workers, artists, shopkeepers, and intellectuals, those who build, maintain, and breathe life into its streets. Its informal settlements and lower-income districts, such as Al-Duwaiqa, Imbaba, and Ezbet El-Hagana, have long housed the city’s working classes, each area carrying its own struggles and character. Al-Duwaiqa, situated in eastern Cairo, came into tragic focus in 2008 when a deadly rockslide devastated the neighbourhood, spotlighting the precarious living conditions of its residents. Imbaba, known for its working-class roots, became a focal point of Islamist militant activity in the 1990s, leading to heavy government intervention. Meanwhile, Ezbet El-Hagana, an unplanned urban sprawl near Nasr City, has recently been rebranded as “Al-Kheir Village” in an effort to integrate it into formal city planning even though its infrastructure challenges remain. These areas are emblematic of Cairo’s urban inequalities, where government policies often neglect existing communities in favour of large-scale redevelopment projects that serve private interests.
Transportation networks provide another lens through which to view these urban transformations. As Cairo’s population has surged, so has the reliance on informal transit systems like microbuses and tuk-tuks, which have become essential for millions of residents. But rather than developing or integrating these systems into urban planning, authorities often treat them as nuisances, as unregulated phenomena to be curtailed rather than embraced as part of the city’s transport ecosystem. This approach mirrors broader policies that sideline the needs of lower-income populations while prioritising projects that cater to the affluent.
Urban theorist David Harvey, in his seminal 2008 essay The Right to the City, argues that urbanisation has long been driven by the need to absorb surplus capital, often at the cost of ordinary people’s rights to shape their own environments. He critiques the concentration of urban planning power in the hands of a few, emphasising that cities should be shaped by collective interests rather than private profits. Cairo’s current trajectory echoes Harvey’s concerns: the privatisation of land and the push for exclusive developments reinforcing deep social divides rather than addressing them. (Translator notes that according to the Built Environment Observatory, much of Cairo’s land is now controlled by private businesses, further raising questions about who truly owns the city).
Amid these transformations, Cairo remains a city of contradictions. Even as grand developments reshape its landscape, everyday resistance takes many forms—street vendors reclaiming sidewalks, residents refusing to leave their homes despite eviction threats, artists documenting and protesting these changes through their work. The struggle over urban space is not new, but it is intensifying as economic pressures and government policies accelerate the drive toward privatisation. The Raseef22 article calls for a critical examination of these shifts, urging a rethinking of what development should mean in a city as historically and culturally rich as Cairo.
To meaningfully understand Cairo’s transformation, engagement must go beyond surface-level analysis. It requires listening to the voices of those impacted, tracing the history of the city’s changing landscape, and questioning the narratives that justify displacement in the name of progress. Cairo’s future is still being written, and the choices made today will determine whether it remains a vibrant city for all or is stripped of its warmth, reduced to a cold investment portfolio in the hands of a select few.
Full original article, by Ahmed El-Fakharany, ‘القاهرة للبيع… كيف تحوّلت المدينة إلى مشروع عقاري للنخب؟’, was published in Arabic on Raseef22 and is available here.
Ahmed El-Fakharany is an Egyptian journalist and novelist born in Alexandria.
Raseef22 is an Arabic-language online magazine covering a diverse range of topics, including culture, politics, and society.
