Dr. Hisham Sabry, a New York lawyer and Visiting Scholar at Indiana University’s Maurer School of Law, is a legal and political scholar with a decade of experience as a political analyst at Egypt’s National Security Agency, specializing in MENA governance and the rule of law.
The saga of Tiran and Sanafir—two small islands commanding the mouth of the Gulf of Aqaba—shows how autocratic decision-making can eclipse public sovereignty in today's Middle East. Though the transfer from Egypt to Saudi Arabia (2016–2017) sparked rare public protests and court challenges in Cairo, the process largely unfolded behind closed doors and against institutional checks. New open-source evidence clarifies how, despite years of rumors to the contrary, Egypt effectively ceded control of the islands in 2017 while promoting ambiguity at home that blunted accountability.
Historical Claims and Strategic Significance
Tiran and Sanafir sit within a narrow gateway between the Red Sea and the Gulf of Aqaba, giving them outsized strategic importance. Under Ottoman-era treaties, the islands were long considered Egyptian territory. Cairo points to a 1906 border agreement delimiting them as part of the Sinai. Saudi Arabia, however, has at times claimed historical ownership, arguing it only entrusted the islands to Egypt in 1950 for protection.
Records show that in that year, the two countries reached a security arrangement. Riyadh agreed to a temporary Egyptian administration of Tiran and Sanafir to prevent an Israeli takeover, given its weak navy, without ceding sovereignty. By the mid-20th century, the Egyptian military was firmly entrenched. Egyptian forces were stationed on the islands, and in 1954, Egypt officially notified the United Nations Security Council that Tiran and Sanafir lay in its territorial waters.
The islands' value became evident during subsequent regional conflicts. Egypt's blockade of the Straits of Tiran to Israeli shipping in 1967 was a proximate cause of the Six-Day War, during which Israel captured and held Tiran until 1979. The Egypt–Israel Peace Treaty returned the islands to Egyptian control under strict conditions. To reassure Israel's security, Tiran and Sanafir were declared demilitarized and opened to international navigation, with a Multinational Force & Observers (MFO) contingent deployed to monitor the strait. An MFO observation post atop Tiran and regular patrols have since helped guarantee freedom of shipping out of Israel's southern port of Eilat.
Thus, for decades, Tiran and Sanafir remained under Egyptian sovereignty, patrolled by Egyptian police and by periodic MFO peacekeeper visits—until a sudden change in 2016.
The 2016 Deal: Sisi's Surprise Agreement
In April 2016, Egyptian President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi stunned the nation by announcing a maritime border accord with Saudi Arabia, placing Tiran and Sanafir in Saudi waters. The decision came during a high-profile visit to Cairo by Saudi King Salman, who unveiled a multibillion-dollar aid package of investments and soft loans for Egypt.
Many Egyptians viewed the island transfer as a quid pro quo: a cash-for-sovereignty swap to bail out Egypt's strained economy. Protests erupted in Cairo and other cities, unusual in their bold defiance of Sisi's government. Opposition figures, legal experts and nationalists insisted the islands were indisputably Egyptian and accused Sisi of "selling" part of the homeland.
These claims found vindication in Egypt's courts: In January 2017, the High Administrative Court upheld a lawsuit nullifying the transfer, affirmed Tiran and Sanafir as Egyptian and forbade the government from ceding them. Several judges involved in that ruling were hailed as heroes for standing up to the executive—a stance that would cost some of them their positions.
Sisi was unmoved by the legal verdict or negative public sentiment. In televised speeches, he insisted that "we did not sell our land" and that the islands originally "belonged to Saudi Arabia." Sisi claimed that he was "giving the Saudis back their land," as his sovereignty committees had determined. He implored Egyptians to "listen to me only" on this issue, pointedly dismissing the court's decision and critics' arguments.
Behind the scenes, the Egyptian state cracked down: Dozens of activists, including ordinary social media users, were arrested for asserting that "Tiran and Sanafir are Egyptian." By June 2017, Sisi forced the agreement through a pliant parliament during a national holiday—minimizing public attention. Lawmakers quickly ratified the transfer despite the court ban, with the Speaker declaring that judicial rulings meant "nothing" in this matter.
Sisi signed the treaty into law on June 24, 2017, overriding the constitution's prohibition on surrendering territory. It was an unprecedented move: An Egyptian government not only relinquished land but actively ignored its judiciary's verdict.
Sisi signed the treaty into law on June 24, 2017, overriding the constitution's prohibition on surrendering territory. It was an unprecedented move: An Egyptian government not only relinquished land but actively ignored its judiciary's verdict.
- Hisham Sabry
Saudi Arabia's perspective on the deal was markedly different. Riyadh had always maintained the islands were Saudi property on loan, and the recovery of Tiran and Sanafir was touted as a sovereign victory. Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman (MbS) incorporated the islands into his ambitious Neom development project, envisioning them as part of a futuristic tourism area that would link Saudi Arabia to Egypt. Regionally, Saudi officials framed the agreement as a straightforward border correction that would benefit both nations and, indeed, Cairo highlighted expected Saudi investment in Egypt's Red Sea coast once the dispute was settled.
Still, the secrecy and suddenness of Sisi's decision—no details of the negotiations were shared with the public or parliament—fueled suspicions about his motivations. Critics charged that Sisi traded the islands for Saudi financial largesse, pointing to the timing of Riyadh's aid announcements in 2016. At the time, it was widely said among Egyptians on social media that "if Sisi could sell all of Sinai, he would," a reflection of the deep cynicism and anger over the perceived commodification of national territory to shore up the president's regime.
Rumors of Delay and a New Reality on the Ground
After 2017, Tiran and Sanafir slipped from daily headlines. However, a curious narrative took hold both in Cairo and abroad: the idea that Sisi had not handed over the islands yet. For years, speculation swirled that Egypt's military was quietly obstructing the final transfer, or that Sisi was dragging his feet despite taking Saudi money. Even some well-connected figures asserted to this author that "the army objects" and had forced Sisi to postpone the move, suggesting a behind-the-scenes patriotism staying Sisi's hand.
Other reports claimed technical holdups, such as haggling over surveillance cameras to replace peacekeepers, as the reason Saudi Arabia had not claimed physical possession. By late 2021, nearly five years on, it was widely believed that Sisi got paid, but that Egypt still had the islands—an assumption repeated by analysts, opposition voices and media outlets across the ideological spectrum.
Today, reality on the ground tells a different story. A careful review of satellite imagery—from Google Earth and Apple Maps to other commercial services—confirms that Saudi Arabia assumed de facto control of Tiran and Sanafir almost immediately after the 2016 agreement. What many dismissed as delays or procedural holdups were rumors, likely fueled by the opacity of Sisi's government and the absence of official updates. The earliest clear sign of the handover was a telecommunications tower springing up on western Tiran by early 2017—an installation that had never existed under decades of Egyptian administration. In the years that followed, Saudi authorities quietly established a robust presence on both islands.
By 2018, the same satellite imagery showed a sizeable Saudi military outpost on the eastern side of Tiran. The installation includes a large compound with buildings and garages, a communications tower and a helipad, with Saudi military trucks and equipment visible. Along the coast, a small Saudi naval pier and guard post were established.
Between 2019 and 2022, construction accelerated: A much larger harbor facility with a four-berth marina and a protective breakwater was completed on Tiran's shore, capable of docking naval vessels. By early 2023, the island featured a fully developed Saudi base. No Egyptian personnel remained, and neither did the Egyptian flag or police post that once stood on Tiran's beach.
Development on Sanafir, sitting a few kilometers to the east, lagged slightly but followed a similar pattern. Between 2017 and 2020, Saudi Arabia built a military compound inland, surrounded by smaller support structures. By 2021, a pier with four landing docks protruded from the northeastern coast, mirroring Tiran. These facilities were fully operational by 2023, effectively turning Sanafir into a Saudi naval outpost.
Notably, all new infrastructure on both islands was positioned on the eastern sides of the islands, facing Saudi waters. This positioning—away from Egyptian tourist areas like Sharm el-Sheikh—meant that casual observers from Egypt would not easily notice the changes. The goal seems to have been to reduce the risk of Egyptian public backlash during the handover process.
This evidence undermines the popular myth that Sisi retained "possession" of Tiran and Sanafir, pending further negotiations. Rather, Sisi delivered the islands to Saudi Arabia from the start, and Riyadh wasted no time asserting ownership. The notion that Egypt's army or "deep state" secretly objected to the transfer was "pure nonsense." In Sisi's Egypt, the military and security services obey the president, and there was no sign of revolt over Tiran and Sanafir. The facts on the ground signify that the delay was never over whether to hand over the islands, but only how.
The handover of Tiran and Sanafir underscores how authoritarian governance and regional deal-making trumped domestic accountability in Egypt.
- Hisham Sabry
If tensions arose between Cairo and Riyadh in the years after 2017—as some reports indicate they did—they were likely about financial arrangements and pride, not the physical transfer. By 2020, Saudi patience was reportedly wearing thin, with hints of pressure on Cairo to finish what was started. Egyptian officials seemed to use whatever leverage they had—perhaps the timing of final treaty steps or cooperation on other fronts—to extract more Saudi aid. This situation culminated in occasional diplomatic sniping and Saudi threats to pull financial deposits from Egypt's central bank. Yet, as the satellite images now show, there was no question of Saudi control of the islands.
Treaty Twists: Peacekeepers, Cameras, and Israel's Consent
One hurdle that did slow the de jure finalization was the 1979 Egypt–Israel Peace Treaty. Under that treaty, alongside the related Camp David Accords, Tiran and Sanafir must remain demilitarized and under international monitoring to ensure Israel's shipping freedom. When Egypt agreed to transfer the islands, it implicitly required buy-in from Israel and the United States to adjust the treaty's security protocol.
Israel's government initially reacted warily, since the MFO peacekeepers stationed on Tiran provided a guarantee of Israeli interests. Although it became moot after Saudi Arabia agreed to respect all existing treaty obligations regarding the islands, at the time a key question remained unanswered: Would a non-signatory like Saudi Arabia uphold the terms?
Behind closed doors, a complex negotiation unfolded involving Washington, Cairo, Tel Aviv and Riyadh. By mid-2022, those talks bore fruit. Israel gave its approval to the transfer—a decision reportedly secured during then-U.S. President Joe Biden's Middle East visit in July 2022. The compromise: Saudi Arabia would formally join the treaty arrangements to keep the islands demilitarized and guarantee free navigation, but foreign troops would withdraw.
This suited Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, who was unwilling to host an indefinite MFO presence on Saudi soil. Biden announced that the U.S.-led MFO contingent on Tiran Island would depart by the end of 2022, replaced by a camera-based remote surveillance system. Reputable media outlets, including Reuters and Al Jazeera, reported that officials familiar with the plan said existing MFO observation cameras in Sharm el-Sheikh, just 4 km away, would be upgraded to cover the straits, and that some cameras were already installed on Tiran as a pilot program.
The MFO organization has gradually shifted toward remote monitoring in Sinai. Its official reports note the use of "unstaffed camera checkpoints" alongside manned sites. This allowed Israel to accept the loss of a physical MFO outpost, satisfied with real-time video feeds and confident that Saudi Arabia—a quiet strategic partner—would not threaten shipping. By July 2022, Israel signaled its agreement to the U.S.-brokered terms, removing the last diplomatic obstacle to the Egyptian and Saudi deal.
Saudi Arabia and Egypt treaded carefully to maintain treaty compliance throughout this saga. Riyadh kept Tiran and Sanafir free of heavy weaponry, with new installations constituting only coast guard and surveillance bases—not large military fortifications. Publicly, Saudi officials reiterate their commitment to the islands' peaceful nature and continued freedom of navigation for all nations.
Egypt, having formally informed the United Nations of the sovereignty change in 2017, contends that it fulfilled all legal requirements. With Israel, Egypt and Saudi Arabia in consensus by 2022, the sovereignty transfer moved from tacit to fully transparent. In a sense, the treaty-mandated choreography—who notifies who and when the last observer leaves—was the only factor distinguishing the de facto situation from an officially recognized reality.
By early 2023, that choreography was complete.
Cairo's Calculus and Regional Ripples
The handover of Tiran and Sanafir underscores how authoritarian governance and regional deal-making trumped domestic accountability in Egypt. President Sisi was willing to brave an uproar at home—even overriding his country's constitution and courts—to deliver on his promise to Saudi Arabia. The reasons were both geostrategic and deeply personal. Saudi Arabia has been a critical benefactor for Sisi's government since his 2013 coup, with billions in Saudi aid bolstering Egypt's foreign reserves. By the mid-2010s, Egypt's need for Gulf assistance was acute, and Sisi calculated that appeasing Riyadh was worth the domestic cost.
Indeed, MbS made the islands a litmus test for Egyptian–Saudi ties. Securing them allowed him to notch a nationalist win at home and fold the islands into Vision 2030, his economic reform and revitalization program. One of Neom's planned mega-projects is a causeway or tunnel linking Saudi Arabia to Sinai across the Strait of Tiran—a plan now feasible today.
For Sisi, acquiescing to Saudi Arabia's claim secured immediate rewards, including 2016 investment agreements and subsequent deposits into Egypt's central bank. But it also brought long-term questions about Egypt's sovereignty and decision-making. The secrecy of the negotiations and Sisi's refusal to disclose how the deal's proceeds were utilized have fueled suspicions of high-level corruption. No official accounting was ever offered for the Saudi funds. Opposition figures allege that much of the payment may have bypassed state coffers, pointing to Sisi's admission that certain mega-projects are funded off-budget.
What is clear is that Egypt's public reaped no direct benefit from the islands' sale. Instead, they witnessed a popular patriotic cause quashed in the face of royal politicking.
The political crackdown that accompanied the transfer set a chilling precedent. During the spring 2016 protests, security forces arrested hundreds. Even as protests faded, simply voicing disagreement could land Egyptians in jail. Several activists received multi-year sentences for social media posts decrying the deal. The message from Sisi's regime was unambiguous: Territorial integrity is how Sisi defines it, and no dissent on matters of sovereignty will be tolerated.
In one striking moment, Sisi publicly warned: "Please, I don't want anyone talking about this matter again." This authoritarian approach effectively silenced debate, eroding any transparency that might have legitimized the outcome. As one legal expert lamented, if a government can give away land against both the people's will and the law, what does national sovereignty even mean?
Regionally, the resolution of the Tiran–Sanafir issue has been a quiet linchpin. It removed an irritant in Egyptian–Saudi relations, already strained by other disagreements like Yemen and Syria policy. It also unlocked a subtle but important step toward Saudi–Israeli rapprochement. By assenting to the new security arrangements, Israel and Saudi Arabia engaged in indirect cooperation, which U.S. diplomats hoped would build trust for broader normalization down the road.
In this sense, the islands became a bargaining chip not only between Cairo and Riyadh, but in the larger puzzle of Middle East peace, alliances and strategic balancing. Saudi Arabia's opening of its airspace to Israeli commercial flights in 2022, for instance, was announced in tandem with the Tiran deal—a sign of tacit linkage.
With the islands now firmly under Saudi sovereignty, Egypt's role is largely reduced to honoring the peace treaty's navigational guarantees, which it was already doing. For everyday Egyptians, Tiran and Sanafir are effectively gone, off-limits even to the diving excursions that once frequented their coral reefs.
Many in Egypt view the episode as a humiliating loss, softened only by the faint hope that a future government might somehow revisit the matter. Yet legally, the window for reversal has closed: Egypt's parliament and president ratified the transfer, recognized by international parties and enshrined in U.N. records. Any attempt to reclaim the islands would face simultaneous Saudi, Israeli and American opposition, given the ripple effects it could have on Egypt-Israel peace.
President Sisi's critics argue this episode has emboldened him to act with even less transparency on other issues, knowing that controversy can be managed and eventually forgotten. Yet Tiran and Sanafir are not forgotten by many Egyptians; they remain a potent symbol of what one activist called "a deal signed in the dark, against the light of the nation's will."
