When Egypt’s government ordered businesses to close early and dimmed public lighting last month, it billed the measures as necessary for the country to cope with the disruption of energy supplies and surging fuel prices caused by the Iran war.
A month later, the state has quietly reversed course after a crisis‑management committee concluded on Sunday that although the plan had succeeded in cutting consumption, it was strangling business activity.
The measures were introduced just as Egypt was heading into the summer months, when many families abandon their overheated apartments after sunset and head to parks, promenades and cafes for some fresh air.
Instead of the usual night-time glow, large parts of Cairo and other major cities were plunged into darkness. Streetlights were switched off, advertising boards went dark and pedestrians were forced to navigate by the headlights of passing cars and the light from their mobile phones.
In Islamic Cairo and the historic Khan El Khalili district, where visitors normally wander late into the night between mosques, antique shops and coffee houses, the impact was significant.
“Tourism-heavy areas were supposedly exempt, but the reality is the curfews killed the atmosphere,” said Mohamed El Ott, 34, who lives just off Cairo’s famed El Moez Street.
“The big cafes stayed open for tourists, but the streets around them were dark. Tour guides would bring groups to two or three famous venues but people couldn’t really walk around, take in the place, see the little details that make it what it is.”
The result was a strange half-life, with a handful of cafes open and lit up but surrounded by dark streets and alleyways. In the area’s historic market, the energy‑saving plan stripped away the fragile ecosystem that supports some of Islamic Cairo’s poorest workers.
Umm Islam, who runs a small stand selling hand‑worked copper pieces and trinkets, said the curfew was enforced by nightly patrols.
“Every night the police would come through the streets, telling people to shut off their lights and close,” she said. “Unlike the larger shops and cafes, which called on their connections to stay open, me and sellers like me couldn’t really do anything but close up early and follow the rules.”
The closure applied across the historic district, from small souvenir stalls to the tightly packed gold and silver sellers in the jewellery souq.
“People don’t come just to see the mosques,” Umm Islam said. “They come for the handicrafts, the jewellery, little things they can take home to their families. Without that, they would come for half an hour and then go back to their hotels.”
At the same time, prices of basic goods surged because of the war, squeezing her family’s budget from the other side. “I am thanking God a thousand times to be able to go back to work. This is definitely the right move from the government,” she said.
The losses were not confined to tourist districts. In Hadayek Al Qubba, a working-class neighbourhood in northern Cairo, coffee carts and street vendors closed early. Sayed Samir, who runs a mobile coffee cart there with his two brothers, said they assumed the new rules would apply to large establishments.
“I used to keep the cart open 24 hours,” he said. “We would take shifts, me and my brothers. We didn’t think it would apply to us because we are such a small cart.”
However, the police came to his cart and told him he had to close, he recalls. “But thank God they cancelled it with summer coming up. We really did not want to lose our business.”
Even in more affluent areas, the early closures exposed how much of Egypt’s economic life has shifted into the evenings. In Korba, an upper‑class neighbourhood known for its arcaded promenades and cafe‑lined streets, the manager of an upscale restaurant said the past month had been close to a disaster.
“The measures were nothing short of catastrophic for business,” said Hassan Abdelfattah, 52. “This area is heavily visited at night because of the cafes and shops. People come to walk, to sit, to eat. When you tell us to close early, you’re cutting off an essential part of the day.”
Mr Abdelfattah said the restaurant’s owners, whom he described as “very wealthy and well connected”, spent weeks appealing to officials to relax the curfew. “For me, it was very disconcerting to have to inform our staff that their jobs weren’t secure and that if the war continues, we would most likely have to fire up to 20 per cent of them.”
In‑person dining dropped sharply once the rules came into force. Like many others, Mr Abdelfattah tried to pivot to delivery orders to keep the kitchen running. But the blackout undermined that workaround as well.
Delivery drivers had to contend with pitch-black streets. Hussein Shawky, 26, a driver with one of Egypt’s largest food‑delivery platforms, said the past month had been unusually dangerous.
“I had no less than five accidents over the past month because of the dark streets,” he said. “It wasn’t just me, at least 10 other drivers I know of filed complaints to our managers over accidents they had because of the dark. This is a problem for us, because if an order is damaged during delivery, we pay for it ourselves.”
The government had introduced the energy-saving measures with a high‑profile television and billboard campaign featuring some of the country’s top stars, urging Egyptians to “stand with their country” and conserve electricity. The message was that the nation’s sacrifice would keep the economy, including tourism, afloat until the situation improved.
A source in the Cabinet told The National the decision to end the early closures followed a scheduled review by the state’s crisis‑management committee on Sunday, after which it was announced by Prime Minister Mostafa Madbouly.
“The plan was to try out energy-saving measures for one month and then reassess. Our plan was very successful at conserving energy, perhaps too successful,” the source said. “But we soon realised that it was hurting business activity, and that needed to be remedied.”
That framing reflects the balance the government is trying to strike. Egypt’s fuel bills have soared since the Iran war began on February 28, exacerbating an already severe foreign currency shortfall. Cutting electricity use buys time, but turning off the lights threatened jobs, tax revenue and, perhaps most dangerously, public patience in a country where living standards have been hammered by years of inflation and austerity.
The national advertising campaign, with its appeals to patriotism, hints at how sensitive the government is to that mood. Other elements of the rationing plan are still in place, including partial remote‑working arrangements for public employees and continued efforts to curb wasteful consumption.
For now, cafe owners, street vendors and delivery drivers are breathing a little easier. With summer approaching, they will once again be able to work when Egyptians actually emerge: at night.
