Millions of Egyptians are gripped by unprecedented anxiety as the government terminated a decades-old rent control law, threatening mass displacement from homes where generations have lived since the Nasser era.
“I cannot leave my apartment. I’ve lived here for 40 years, I’m in my seventies, how can I abandon my memories, my neighbours, and move out? I want to die here in my own house,” Hussein Mahmoud, a retired accountant living alone in Giza’s Haram district, told The New Arab.
For him, the new housing law means being uprooted from the life he built around his apartment. “Back in 1980, when I first signed the contract at 60 Egyptian pounds ($1.2), the rent was already high.”
Hussein is one of millions affected by Egypt’s newly ratified amendments to the Old Rent Law. Signed by President Abdel Fattah al-Sisi on 4 August 2025, Law 165 dismantles the socialist system of fixed rents dating back to 1954. It introduces a seven-year phase-out of old rental contracts, with rents in central areas set to rise by as much as twentyfold.
According to official figures, the changes will affect more than three million apartments — around 7% of Egypt’s housing stock — and eventually displace 1.6 million families, or 6.5% of the population.
For decades, tenants — often pensioners — have paid as little as 75 EGP (about $1.50) for apartments that today fetch around 10,000 EGP ($200) a month on the open market. Landlords, meanwhile, argue they have been trapped in contracts that yield them pennies in rent while forcing them to pay much higher prices elsewhere.
Egypt’s Old Rent Law, first introduced in the early 20th century, was designed to protect tenants in a country where housing was scarce and inequality ran deep.
It capped rents and sharply limited landlords’ ability to evict tenants. Under Gamal Abdel Nasser in the 1950s and 60s, the protections expanded, covering millions of households and even allowing relatives up to the third degree to inherit leases. The system provided working- and middle-class families with cheap, stable housing, but it also locked out landlords from their own properties for generations.
A partial reform came in 1996, when new legislation gave landlords greater freedom to set rents and lease terms — but only for new contracts.
Older agreements remained frozen, leaving Egypt with two parallel markets: one distorted by decades-old rents, the other driven by spiralling costs that pushed housing out of reach for many.
The old rent trap
Sayed Abdelaziz, who inherited an apartment in Downtown Cairo, receives just 3 EGP (about $0.06) a month in rent. Yet he now lives in Hurghada, Red Sea governorate, paying 8,000 EGP ($165) in rent under a new contract.
“The tenant deposits 36 pounds in court every year. I refuse to collect it — it costs more than 60 pounds just to travel to the courthouse,” he said bitterly.
A similar story comes from Ahmed Abdel Karim, a contractor and father of three. He owns a building of 12 apartments in Mohandessin, one of Giza’s most expensive districts, but earns only 1,000 EGP in rent each month.
“I’m forced to live in a rented apartment in Bulaq al-Dakrour for 850 pounds,” he explained.
For tenants, however, the recently passed law spells catastrophe.
Basma Magdy, a university student from Cairo’s Dar al-Salaam district, worries about her parents — both elderly and unable to work.
“How are they supposed to find another home? We cannot afford it. This law forces people out without offering solutions. Why not raise the rent gradually, say from 350 pounds to 1,000 pounds, with an agreement between both sides?” she asked.
Tenant leaders vow resistance.
“We will not pay the new rent,” Sherif El-Ga’ar, head of the Old Rent Tenants Union, told The New Arab.
“This law is unconstitutional. The state cannot simply cancel contracts like this. If landlords refuse the original rent, tenants will pay in court.” He promised to challenge the amendments at Egypt’s Constitutional Court.
Cairo's rent wars
Opposition MP Diaa Eldin Dawoud is among those calling the law unjust. “These amendments target pensioners who dedicated decades of service to the state. Most live on 4,000 pounds a month — almost half the minimum wage of 7,000 pounds. They cannot afford alternative housing in today’s economy,” he told The New Arab.
Dawoud accused the government of failing to offer alternatives and even hinted at hidden motives: “There are strong suspicions that this law is linked to efforts by Gulf investors to take over prime real estate in Cairo’s Downtown.”
Earlier this year, Emirati businessman Mohamed Alabbar had expressed an interest in turning Cairo’s historic core into a “Dubai-style Downtown,” a statement that sparked public anger and forced Egypt’s prime minister to clarify that redevelopment plans remain under state control.
The government has launched an online platform for tenants seeking alternative housing, but Dawoud dismissed it as impractical, warning that it will force the government into facing a double burden.
“The government already builds social housing for low, middle, and high-income groups. Now it must also accommodate millions displaced by old rent contracts.”
He warned that the law “threatens social peace” and criticised authorities for failing to offer meaningful guarantees. The impact, he added, extends beyond homes to clinics and pharmacies also rented under old contracts: “Their closure will create dangerous gaps in essential services.”
Others insist the law is overdue. Amr Hegazy, the deputy head of the Association of Landlords Harmed by Old Rent, argued: “The landlord-tenant relationship has been distorted for decades. Even if rent rises to 1,000 pounds, it is still far below market value. Many tenants even demand bribes to vacate properties. This is exploitation.”
He predicted the law would revive Egypt’s rental market: “By freeing up millions of units, supply will rise, and rental prices will fall,” he told The New Arab.
Egypt’s repeated currency devaluations — most dramatically in March 2024, when the pound lost nearly two-thirds of its value — drove investors to real estate as a hedge against inflation that peaked at 38% in late 2023.
Property prices surged in response, with areas like New Cairo and 6th of October witnessing 83–95% jumps in Q1 2024 and nationwide values rising more than 30% year-on-year by early 2025.
This resilience has cemented the property market as one of Egypt’s safest investment havens, attracting both local and foreign buyers despite wider economic turbulence.
Pro-government MP Ehab Ramzy, a member of the parliamentary legislative committee, told The New Arab that: “There can be no eternal rent contracts. Seventy years is long enough. The state cannot help those who live in luxury districts like Zamalek or Maadi and claim poverty.”
Ramzy insisted the law will boost state revenue through higher property taxes and said the seven-year transition gives tenants ample time. He revealed government plans to offer new units on city outskirts and desert lands, with options for rent or purchase.
Cairo's social earthquake
Urban researcher Yahia Shawkat foresees profound consequences: “This law will redraw the demographic map of Cairo and Alexandria. In Downtown and central districts, we’ll see gentrification — working-class and middle-class families pushed out and replaced by wealthier newcomers. In poorer neighbourhoods, the change will be generational: elderly tenants forced to leave, replaced by younger couples who can afford the new rents.”
He noted that nearly a quarter of Cairo’s residents still live in old-rent apartments, making this “the largest social shift in decades.”
Sociologist Heba Arabi agreed: “Housing must be seen as a basic human right, not just a commodity. These amendments ignore the social dimension. By treating housing purely as a market issue, the law risks sparking real confrontations on the ground.”
She pointed to past violent incidents over rent disputes, which ended in murders, warning the new law could further inflame tensions.
The Old Rent Law was once a pillar of Egypt’s social contract, protecting families since the 20th century. Its rollback reflects Cairo’s shift toward austerity and market reforms.
But as opposition MP Abdel Moneim Imam grimly put it, the message to elderly tenants is clear: “Try to die before the seven years end.”
Mahmoud Abdelrahman is a writer from Cairo
This piece is published in collaboration with Egab