“Oh homes of Suez, my city’s homes… they were martyred beneath you, and yet you live on.” To the rhythm of the simsimiyya, this famous folk song has long echoed through the streets of Suez, where residents sang to their homes as if they were living witnesses to the city’s soul. Every home is dear to its owners—but those that stood through war, history, and the resilience of Suez’s people hold a special place in the hearts of all Egyptians. Today, as many of these historic buildings collapse from neglect or fall victim to demolition by local authorities, one question remains urgent: who is responsible for erasing the heritage of a people?
Since 2020, when the Egyptian government began implementing urban development plans that targeted numerous old structures of historical and architectural significance, waves of controversy and public outrage have repeatedly resurfaced. With every new demolition—regardless of place, time, or justification—the Ministry of Antiquities’ response has remained unchanged: “Not registered as a monument.” This repeated justification has not been accompanied by any serious effort to address registration loopholes or improve protection mechanisms, prompting widespread criticism from historians, archaeologists, and architects who warn that a large part of Egypt’s urban heritage lies outside official protection records, leaving it constantly threatened by demolition machinery.
The latest controversy erupted over the demolition of the Boutros Kassab House in the city of Suez. The destruction of one of the city’s oldest landmarks—an elegant European-style building reconstructed in 1896 by a descendant of the Kassab family—sparked anger among residents and heritage enthusiasts. Historically, Boutros Kassab’s name is deeply linked to Suez in the second half of the nineteenth century. According to archival sources, Kassab served as an important administrative official under Mohamed Ali Pasha and his successors, tasked with collecting taxes from ships traveling between Egypt and India, before the construction of the Suez Canal.
The house stood as a witness to multiple eras: Ahmed Orabi stayed there for several days upon returning from exile; it survived the Tripartite Aggression of 1956, the 1967 War, and the 1973 siege—only to end in demolition, following a court ruling in favor of the owning company, which claimed the structure posed a risk to public safety. The absence of cultural and heritage authorities from the scene led intellectuals and historians to condemn the act as “a crime against the memory of Suez.”
In September 2017, parts of the upper floor’s ceiling and several interior walls collapsed, prompting then-governor Major General Abdel Meguid Saqr to form a technical committee to determine whether the building was listed in the National Antiquities Registry or protected under urban coordination laws, as well as to investigate potential negligence.
Photo of the house before demolition – Source: Facebook.
The final demolition took place in September 2025, carried out on behalf of the Canal Shipping Agencies Company, which is affiliated with the Ministry of Transport, with participation from security and utility forces. According to Colonel Ahmed Alaa, head of Suez district, the demolition order was based on a final judicial ruling after the building was deemed structurally unsound—a statement reported by several local news outlets.
In response, the Secretary-General of the Supreme Council of Antiquities told Zawia3 that the property was not registered as a historical monument, and therefore, by law, does not fall under the ministry’s jurisdiction or legal protection. He added that the lack of registration classifies it as an ordinary building, one that carries no official heritage or antiquity status.
Suez Loses Its Historic Identity
The city of Suez is one of Egypt’s most important coastal centers along the Suez Canal, serving as a strategic gateway between the Red Sea and the Mediterranean, and a vital link between East and West.
Historically, Suez has been closely tied to navigation and trade, gaining prominence under Mohamed Ali Pasha, who transformed it into a naval base to confront threats in the Red Sea. The city also played a pivotal role during the Tripartite Aggression of 1956, the June War of 1967, and the 1973 siege, becoming a powerful symbol of popular resistance.
Beyond its military significance, Suez was once a center of distinctive architecture, particularly known for its wooden “Baghdadi” or “Suez-style” houses, as well as a number of historic landmarks. Today, however, the city stands as a silent witness to a long history of struggle and endurance—yet without any real preservation efforts for the structures that embody its memory.
According to Anwar Fath Al-Bab Abdel Aal, a researcher in Egyptian history and culture, Suez possesses a unique architectural character, much of which vanished during wartime. Speaking to Zawia3, he explains that the city was once known for its wooden architectural style called “Baghdadi”, which was referenced by Ali Mubarak in his historical works as “Suez Architecture.” It featured wooden latticework (mashrabiyas), arabesque designs, and ornate detailing. These distinctive elements, Abdel Aal says, were completely destroyed during the war, and no effort was made afterward to revive or preserve what remained of this style.
Among the most prominent landmarks of old Suez, Abdel Aal highlights Mohamed Ali’s Palace, constructed as part of Egypt’s military preparations in the Red Sea during the Wahhabi Wars (1811–1818). Over the decades, however, the palace was repurposed for governmental use—serving at different times as the Governorate headquarters, the Security Directorate, and the Sharia Court—which led to its severe deterioration. “The place is almost gone,” he says, adding that the Ministry of Antiquities did not register it as a heritage site until 2016, following long-standing demands and multiple restoration appeals dating back to the 2011 revolution. It remains, to this day, the only officially registered monument in Suez.
He also refers to Beit Al-Masagiri, which in the nineteenth century served as warehouses and a hotel owned by the French “Compagnie des Messageries Maritimes”. Despite its historical value, it faced seizure threats in 2019 and has still not been registered as a heritage site. “Just a few weeks ago,” Abdel Aal recalls, “we were shocked to find the wooden fence of the building—over 150 years old—demolished, along with the uprooting of century-old trees that had witnessed Suez’s history.”
Turning to the Boutros Kassab House, a nineteenth-century residence built in the French Baroque style, Abdel Aal emphasizes that “despite its deterioration and crumbling façade, its architectural design was its true value.” Yet its recent collapse occurred without any official intervention, and even its commemorative plaque was not preserved after demolition.
The historian explains that this neglect is not new—it dates back decades. “Suez was destroyed by war, and what survived was coldly demolished in the 1960s, especially after the July Revolution, when historic buildings were converted into government offices without maintenance or preservation,” he says. He describes Mohamed Ali’s Palace today as “dilapidated, with no appreciation of its historical worth or its potential as a cultural and touristic asset that could benefit the city.”
He cites another example: Selim Shehata Palace, built in the 1930s, whose owner was a member of Parliament and a benefactor who funded the construction of the Suez Chest Hospital—once an architectural gem before being demolished under the Universal Health Insurance Project. The palace itself is now under the control of the Petroleum Syndicates Union, where random modifications to its façade and windows are made with no regard for its heritage value.
Abdel Aal concludes his remarks to Zawia3 by saying:
“We lack a true awareness of the value of our monuments. Other nations with no real history are striving to create one, while we—who possess an ancient civilization—are destroying our history with our own hands.”
Not Registered as a Historical Monument
The controversy surrounding the demolition of the Boutros Kassab House was not an isolated incident, nor was the Egyptian Ministry of Antiquities’ defense—“Not registered as a historical monument”—limited to this case. The ministry has repeatedly used the same justification in numerous similar instances involving buildings and cemeteries of significant historical and architectural value.
Under this policy, dozens of heritage properties remain exposed to demolition or drastic alteration simply because they have not been officially listed in the national antiquities register—a situation that historians, archaeologists, and legal experts describe as an administrative failure that deprives cities of the protection of their historical buildings and erases essential layers of Egypt’s urban and cultural memory.
For instance, Egyptian authorities demolished several tombs and shrines in the Mamluk Cemetery as part of the Al-Firdous Axis project, after the Islamic Antiquities Sector deemed them “not registered among the Islamic and Coptic antiquities,” thereby excluding them from official protection. The same rationale was applied to the Mohamed Ali Dome in the Imam Al-Shafi‘i Cemetery, which was removed despite its direct association with the era of Mohamed Ali Pasha, under the pretext that it was “not registered as a heritage site.”
A similar argument was used in the Bab al-Nasr Cemetery case in Cairo, where the Ministry of Antiquities justified demolition operations by claiming the sites were “not registered as historical monuments,” despite their architectural value and connection to the Islamic Cairo district, which is listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The same defense was invoked during the partial demolition of the Imam Al-Layth Ibn Sa‘d Cemetery in Al-Basateen—one of Egypt’s oldest Islamic graveyards—where the official line remained unchanged: “Not registered as a monument.”
This policy of exclusion has also extended to historic residential buildings in Alexandria, such as the villas and gardens of Moharram Bey and Montaza, many of which faced demolition or severe alteration under the pretext of urban redevelopment, with authorities maintaining that these sites “lack official heritage designation.”
While government officials insist that registration is the only legal criterion for safeguarding buildings and sites, experts in heritage, archaeology, and history argue that such an approach reduces the meaning of history and architecture to a bureaucratic formality. It provides a loophole for delaying registration and ignoring the protection of architecturally or historically valuable sites, leaving century-old buildings vulnerable to bulldozers without any specialized review or oversight.
In this context, archaeologist Nermeen Khafagy expressed her frustration to Zawia3, criticizing the official disregard for the appeals made by specialists and heritage advocates urging the registration of historic buildings.
“The answer to any question about ancient structures that are being demolished without registration lies only with the officials who have ignored every call and petition on this issue,” she said bitterly.
For balance, Zawia3 reached out to Dr. Gamal Abdel Rahim, member of the Permanent Committee at the Ministry of Antiquities, who categorically denied that any registered monument had been demolished or removed. However, he admitted that there is an urgent need to include several old sites in the official heritage lists, emphasizing that the registration process follows strict technical and legal standards.
“Not every old building qualifies for registration as a monument,” he clarified.
Registration Does Not Protect Heritage from Demolition
Architect Amr Abu Toweila told Zawia3 that the registration of buildings in Egypt is divided into multiple levels, each with different criteria. The “urban registration,” carried out by the National Organization for Urban Harmony (NOUH), involves listing a building as one “of value,” according to factors such as architectural style, association with a historical figure, or a significant event that took place there. However, he explained that this type of registration “does not entail any real legal protection,” and remains merely symbolic, as it does not prevent demolition or fundamental alteration.
By contrast, the registration of antiquities is far more complex and is handled by the Ministry of Antiquities through strict legal procedures. Yet, it has become extremely rare in recent decades, except for very limited exceptional cases. Abu Toweila noted that this system’s roots go back to the “Committee for the Preservation of Arab Antiquities,” established in the nineteenth century during the era of Mohamed Ali, which later evolved into part of the Supreme Council of Antiquities.
He added that there is also registration of entire areas as integrated urban entities, such as Downtown Cairo, which represents a broader urban classification, in addition to international registration on UNESCO’s World Heritage List, which follows complex conditions. Abu Toweila pointed out that Historic Cairo has repeatedly faced the threat of removal from the World Heritage List due to waves of demolition and alteration, while Egypt itself had previously requested that some sites be delisted to allow greater freedom in handling them.
Abu Toweila argued that expanding registration, not the opposite, is what Egypt needs to protect its architectural heritage. Yet, he criticized the limited powers of the Urban Harmony Organization, saying, “Urban registration still lacks real executive authority, despite the organization having clear standards.” He gave examples of major buildings such as Gamal Abdel Nasser’s villa and the National Democratic Party headquarters, which were registered as “buildings of historical value,” yet this did not prevent their alteration or demolition.
In this context, architectural consultant Nader Ali, a specialist in heritage conservation, told Zawia3 that the registration of archaeological buildings in Egypt is the responsibility of the Ministry of Antiquities, through a specialized committee that operates under defined criteria. Among the most important of these criteria is that the building must be over 100 years old, in accordance with Antiquities Protection Law No. 117 of 1983 and its amendments, in addition to possessing unique architectural value, whether in decorations, engravings, or interior elements such as floors and ceilings. He added that there are also other values recognized in registration, such as historical value (its association with a public figure or important event), human or symbolic value, and structural value, if the building is notable for a distinctive construction method.
Nader explained that the problem lies in the fact that the number of buildings in Egypt that are more than 100 years old is very large, and the majority of these suffer from neglect and poor maintenance due to the limited means of their owners, especially under old rent laws, which leads to their deterioration and gradual collapse due to natural factors or accidents.
He added that the Ministry of Antiquities bears a tremendous burden, being responsible for protecting Islamic, Coptic, Pharaonic, and Roman antiquities from Alexandria to Aswan and from Arish to Siwa, which far exceeds its financial and human capacity. For this reason, the National Organization for Urban Harmony was established to set standards for classifying architecturally distinctive buildings, even though they are not registered as antiquities. The organization has divided such buildings into three grades to help preserve them and restrict renovation or demolition processes.
However, according to Nader Ali, the enforcement of these laws remains extremely weak, as demolition or alteration of such buildings sometimes takes place without consulting the organization, leading to the loss of several valuable properties.
He pointed out that Egypt has been repeatedly criticized by UNESCO, which has threatened to delist some areas from the World Heritage List because of demolition waves and urban changes—an alarming sign that demands greater attention. He added: “We have buildings that are 150 years old being demolished with ease, while in other countries, buildings less than 70 years old are registered as heritage that must be protected.”
According to the Convention Concerning the Protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage, adopted by the UNESCO General Conference on November 16, 1972, and ratified by 180 countries, including Egypt, the treaty aims to classify, document, and preserve sites of exceptional importance to humanity, whether cultural or natural. States whose sites are listed receive financial support under specific conditions. As of 2018, the total number of registered sites reached 1,092, distributed across 167 countries.
The convention stipulates that ownership of heritage sites remains with the state in which they are located, but that they receive the attention of the international community to ensure their preservation for future generations, with all member states sharing responsibility for their protection.
In contrast, Egypt has only seven sites on the World Heritage List, six of which are archaeological and were last added more than a quarter of a century ago, while the seventh is a natural heritage site. These include: the Abu Mena archaeological area in Alexandria, Historic Cairo, the Memphis archaeological area, the Ancient City of Thebes, Nubia and its temples, Saint Catherine’s Monastery, and Wadi El-Hitan in Fayoum Governorate, the only site listed as natural heritage.
It is worth noting that Historic Cairo has, in recent years, faced the threat of being removed from the World Heritage List due to its deteriorating urban conditions and failure to meet international protection standards.
Conversely, and in a controversial move, Egypt requested in 2023 that UNESCO reduce the area of Historic Cairo listed as World Heritage, a proposal that UNESCO rejected. Heritage experts interpreted this as a signal of the state’s desire to free itself from international preservation obligations within Egypt.
While other nations lacking deep historical roots strive to create symbolic urban memories to take pride in, Egypt continues to squander its genuine landmarks, which embody centuries of struggle and evolution and form the contours of its national identity. This raises a critical question:
Does the state possess the will to protect what remains of its architectural and cultural heritage before it is erased from collective memory—or will the phrase “Not Registered as an Antiquity” remain the official pretext for erasing history?
