An investigation tracking the cost of early closures and reduced lighting on safety and mobility in public space
In times of crisis, government policies are often presented as necessary responses to manage resources or contain urgent consequences. Yet these decisions, despite their apparent neutrality, are not implemented in a vacuum; they reshape the details of daily life and the boundaries of movement within public space.
In this context, lived experiences—especially those of women—reveal clear disparities in the ability to adapt to such policies, as elements like lighting, working hours, and transportation become direct determinants of both perceived safety and accessibility.
Last March, Egyptian Prime Minister Mostafa Madbouly announced a set of exceptional measures to rationalize energy consumption, implemented starting March 28, 2026, amid a worsening regional economic crisis. These measures included reducing lighting, enforcing earlier shop closures, and reorganizing working hours as part of a broader resource management plan.
Public transportation does not appear as a neutral option,
but rather a space conditioned by varying levels of safety, becoming more fragile as movement declines
These decisions cannot be examined solely through the lens of economic efficiency. They raise deeper questions about their social and gendered costs, how they redistribute access within public space, and who ultimately bears these costs in daily life.
At the end of 2019, with the global spread of COVID-19, the Egyptian government-like many others-implemented exceptional measures to address the crisis. These included suspending education, imposing partial lockdowns, reducing working hours, expanding remote work, and partially shutting down activities. While presented as necessary, these measures redistributed burdens within the private sphere unequally, with women bearing increased caregiving and unpaid labor, alongside heightened vulnerability in the informal labor market.
During and after the peak of the pandemic, numerous international and human rights reports documented a significant rise in violence against women and girls, described by UN Women as a “shadow pandemic,” as lockdowns confined many women with their abusers while limiting their ability to seek help or report abuse.
Now, with the new decisions, this investigation on the “Silat Wassel” platform seeks to examine a growing sense of anxiety—not only linked to crisis management, but to how these measures affect the ability to move within public space, particularly for women, given that safety is closely tied to factors such as lighting, crowd density, and the absence of sufficient guarantees for safe mobility.
Testimonies from the Street: Fear Reshapes Women’s Movement
Public transportation is not a neutral option, but a space conditioned by varying levels of safety that become more fragile as movement decreases. Therefore, these decisions cannot be seen as purely technical measures, but as policies that redistribute access within public space, raising the question of who can move safely and who is pushed to withdraw from it.
These risks intensify among the most vulnerable groups, particularly women working evening shifts in low-income neighborhoods. Dina (H), a garment factory worker in Dar El-Salam, whose shift runs from noon to midnight, says the decision directly affected both her income and daily mobility, as the factory now closes precisely at 9 PM, reducing her daily wage from 150 to 100 Egyptian pounds.
She explains that streets have become darker, and roads have turned into gathering spots for young men instead of cafés, increasing harassment during her commute. She adds:
“Side streets have become completely dark, and I’m terrified on my way home. The trip from the factory to my house takes about half an hour.”
She recounts an attempted robbery by a tuk-tuk driver during her commute, emphasizing that the light coming from shops once provided a minimal sense of safety, which disappeared after the decision:
“We started hearing screams in the street without knowing why, and the next day we find out it was harassment or an attempted theft.”
Side streets have become completely dark, and I’m terrified on my way home.
The journey from the factory to my house takes about half an hour.
If daily experience reveals this anxiety, the issue is not only the outcomes of policies but also how they are designed. Public policies, especially in crisis management and resource rationalization, are often built on the assumption of a “neutral” user of public space, overlooking the differences in experiences between men and women.
This assumption ignores that movement in public space, transportation use, and the timing of going out and returning are not equally accessible to all. Thus, when decisions like reducing lighting or shortening working hours are made without assessing their gendered impact, they not only produce unequal outcomes but also reflect the absence of this perspective at the design stage itself.
This concern aligns with international literature, as reports from the “Safe Cities” program confirm that lighting is a fundamental factor in women’s sense of safety in public space, and that its absence leads to reduced mobility and avoidance of certain routes or times.
At the level of reshaping daily movement patterns, Heba Adel (35, Cairo), a master’s student, explains how the decision forced her to change routes and rely on more expensive transportation as previously used roads became darker. She says:
“The first thing that came to my mind was fear. We already face harassment and theft even when streets are lit-so what about when everything closes early and lighting is reduced? I return after 9 PM, and I started asking myself: how will I move?”
The impact extends beyond individuals to family structures. Nour Mohamed (Shubra, Cairo) explains that the decision forced daily changes in her lifestyle and responsibilities:
“I live in a working-class area, I work, study, and I’m also a single mother. The sense of responsibility and fear has doubled. The decision made me rethink every detail of my day—even my children’s movements. We moved my daughter’s lessons online after agreement among mothers, because the anxiety became collective, not individual.”
With the absence of Feminist Urbanism in urban planning, public spaces are designed under the assumption of neutrality, ignoring differences in lived experiences—especially for women. This reveals that cities are not just physical structures, but systems of power determining who has the right to move within them.
This gap is more evident among low-income women who depend on walking or public transport, in poorly lit streets lacking safety mechanisms, turning daily mobility into a fear-conditioned experience, especially at night or in isolated areas.
This intersects with the concept of the “right to the city,” as well as Sustainable Development Goal 11, which emphasizes the need to build inclusive, safe, and accessible cities that respond to the needs of all residents-necessitating a reconsideration of urban design to account for diverse lived experiences.
At the psychological and economic levels, Amira (S), 37, from Dakahlia, expresses the impact of these decisions, which for her are associated with a growing sense of insecurity and rising transportation costs. She says:
“Just reading the government decisions, I felt a flood of dark thoughts. The first thing I thought about was: how will I get around? And will it cost more? And the answer was yes.”
She adds that reduced lighting and the disappearance of street activity have made nighttime mobility a constant source of anxiety, alongside an increasing reliance on paid apps and services to meet daily needs—imposing additional financial burdens.
In cases related to work conditions or health circumstances, Asmaa Mostafa, a resident of Giza, notes that the decision left her with no room to adapt to her health needs, as she depends on going out at night for movement and work. She says:
“I used to rely on going out at night to work or get around, but with early closures and reduced lighting, it’s become terrifying. I live in a popular area, and the street already has drug use, so the idea of moving late at night with less light is very scary.”
She adds that insecurity extends beyond the street to transportation:
“Violence can happen in any public space, and there’s no real guarantee protecting women.”
These testimonies align with urban planning studies that confirm lighting is not merely a service but a core determinant of perceived safety, directly influencing women’s mobility decisions.
When Cities Are Designed Without Women
Architect Aya Mounir, founder of the “SuperWomen” initiative, argues that the issue extends beyond women to the absence of humans at the center of urban planning-a gap that affects women more sharply. As cities increasingly rely on transportation and reduce safe walking spaces, access to services becomes dependent on systems not designed for women’s safety, accessibility, or affordability.
She adds that current urban planning does not take into account women’s complex social roles, nor does it provide safe public spaces or nearby, integrated services. This makes daily life more complicated in light of dispersed services and total reliance on mobility, while public transport remains unsafe and private alternatives impose additional financial burdens.
Regarding recent decisions, Mounir notes that crisis management often comes at the expense of women’s right to use public space, pushing toward restricting their movement rather than rethinking planning or enhancing safety. She points out that calls following early closure decisions reflect this approach, in the absence of safer alternatives, such as improving lighting in a studied manner or strengthening security points in the streets.
She also emphasizes that these decisions do not only affect mobility but extend to increasing care burdens on women within households, especially with the redistribution of social activities into the private sphere. She further notes that one of the shortcomings of urban planning is the neglect of the needs of diverse groups of women, including mothers and women with disabilities, in designs that fail to ensure safe daily use of sidewalks, stairs, lighting, and movement pathways.
Crisis management often comes at the expense of women’s right to use public space.
She gives the example of shrinking free public spaces, such as parks and recreational areas, which reduces the ability of families-especially those with lower incomes-to use public space without cost, reflecting the absence of a social and economic dimension in urban planning.
In times of crisis, Mounir stresses that decisions such as reducing lighting should be preceded by a fundamental question about how women use the streets under these conditions, rather than pushing them to withdraw from public space. She also raises questions about the effectiveness of these decisions compared to their impacts, especially since reports from Egypt’s Ministry of Electricity and the Egyptian Electricity Holding Company (2023/2024) indicate that street lighting accounts for only 2.7% to 3% of total electricity consumption, while the residential sector accounts for 37.2% to 40%.
She concludes by emphasizing that crises often reveal a recurring pattern of sidelining women as a quick solution, instead of integrating their needs into proposed solutions—something reflected in testimonies highlighting growing fears among women regarding movement after reduced lighting.
Progress in retreat… and an unstable perspective
At another analytical level, the impact of these decisions does not stop at the design of public spaces but extends to how public policies themselves are formulated and their ability to accommodate gender differences in everyday experiences.
In this regard, Rabha Seif Allam, Professor of Political Science and Head of the Terrorism Studies Program at Al-Ahram Center for Political and Strategic Studies, notes that integrating a gender perspective into public policies in Egypt remains unstable. It progresses at times, then recedes, and re-emerges again-reflecting, according to her, the lack of deep institutionalization of this perspective within government vision, as it is still relatively new and lacks strong advocates at various decision-making levels.
She explains that the COVID-19 pandemic represented a different model, where government policies showed responsiveness to women’s needs and received international praise, particularly with amendments to laws related to violence against women, which was reflected in increased reporting rates—an indicator of growing trust in investigative authorities.
However, she points out that austerity or crisis-management policies do not necessarily reflect this level of responsiveness, as they often lack comprehensive consideration of women’s needs, leading to clear harm. She cites examples such as women being forced to reduce working hours-affecting their income, especially female breadwinners-as well as overcrowding in transportation before closure times, in the absence of safe or sufficient alternatives. She emphasizes that although these effects impact everyone, women are disproportionately affected during crises, especially with continued caregiving responsibilities.
Regarding reduced lighting decisions, Allam notes that the expected economic savings may not be significant, while the social and security costs could be higher. She refers to the “Broken Window Theory,” which suggests that neglecting signs of disorder may encourage crime-something that could apply to reduced lighting, as it creates a more favorable environment for crimes, including theft and violence, particularly against women, girls, and children.
She argues that any economic savings from such policies may be offset by multiplied costs when considering potential crime-related consequences. In this context, she considers the notion of “neutral policy” inherently problematic, as any policy that does not incorporate a gender perspective is, by definition, unjust to women. She stresses that integrating this perspective is no longer a luxury but a necessity, as ignoring it can lead to negative outcomes that require greater resources later to address.
She also highlights the lack of clarity regarding women’s representation-or that of relevant institutions such as the National Council for Women-within decision-making committees. She emphasizes that public policies should be based on prior assessments of feasibility and impact, which may not occur systematically under crisis pressure. She also raises concerns about the technical teams responsible for these evaluations and their ability to use disaggregated data by gender and age.
She adds that policies responsive to women’s needs are often absent in the pre-crisis phase, where a reactive approach dominates instead of adopting preventive or proactive strategies. Regarding gender mainstreaming mechanisms, she stresses that it is not enough to include women in decision-making bodies; meaningful participation requires accurate data that accounts for gender, age, and diversity, enabling a clearer understanding of different groups, such as women working in the informal sector who often work late hours without safe alternatives.
Policies responsive to women’s needs are often absent in the pre-crisis phase.
Instead, a reactive approach is adopted rather than preventive or proactive policies.
She notes that these groups are the most vulnerable and most affected by closure and austerity policies, given the difficulty of shifting to alternative work models such as remote work—placing a disproportionate burden on them in the absence of clear social protection or compensation measures.
She concludes that societal adaptation to these decisions may take time, but until then, the most vulnerable groups-particularly women-will bear the greatest burden, especially in an urban environment that may become less safe with reduced lighting and decreased street activity.
This analysis reveals that the issue lies not only in the effects of policies, but in the absence of a gender perspective at the stage of their formulation, where technical decisions are made without integrating differences in experiences between women and men.
The memory of fear: why do women respond this way?
Extending from these effects, the psychological dimension emerges as one of the most complex levels, as the impact of these decisions goes beyond movement and planning to shape women’s perception of safety itself.
Hager Ramadan, a psychiatric consultant at Abbassia Mental Health Hospital, explains that rising fear among women cannot be separated from accumulated experiences shaping their daily awareness. It is linked to what can be described as shared lived experiences—accumulated direct and indirect experiences related to harassment or violence in public spaces. She adds that these experiences activate something like a “collective memory,” making fear a predictable response even among those who have not been directly exposed.
She also notes that societal discourse encouraging women to limit their movement to avoid risks reinforces this pattern, particularly in environments that fail to provide sufficient safety, and that reproduce victim-blaming by questioning women’s behavior and timing rather than unsafe contexts.
Ramadan points out a direct psychological link between darkness and danger, where the mind builds a conditioned association between lack of lighting and the likelihood of harm. Darkness and reduced activity are perceived as indicators of danger, whereas lighting and the presence of others provide a relative sense of possible assistance—even if actual safety is not fully guaranteed. Reduced lighting and quieter streets intensify feelings of isolation, placing women in a constant state of perceived risk without clear avenues for support.
Regarding worst-case thinking, she emphasizes that this is not an exaggeration but a logical response to a context marked by rising incidents of violence and lack of protection mechanisms, where what appears as “overthinking” is actually a defensive response to a high-risk environment.
This anxiety is further amplified among women with family responsibilities, especially mothers, as fear extends beyond themselves to include their children and families-particularly given the ongoing need for mobility and work, sometimes at late hours. She notes that this reflects a form of collective anxiety reinforced by extensive media coverage of violence.
She warns that the persistence of this situation may lead to increased anxiety levels and potentially to psychological disorders, particularly in the absence of a sense of safety in public spaces. She concludes by emphasizing the need for policies that account for gender differences, enhance safety measures in streets, and provide appropriate psychological support to mitigate these effects.
This report is supported by:
