From Dutch Cows to Vegetable Carts: How Sisi Rules Egypt Through Delusion and Megalomania

In 1959, the late Egyptian comedian Ismail Yassin brought to life the character of “Jaaran Effendi ” in The Poor Millionaire—a man who talks endlessly, offers unsolicited advice on every matter, and parades as a genius while drowning in ignorance from head to toe.

More than 60 years later, it seems Ga’ran Effendi never left. He simply donned a general’s uniform, climbed onto the seat of power, and began issuing declarations as if divinely inspired—spouting illogical solutions while brooking neither debate nor dissent.

Egyptian activists have long turned to an iconic scene from the film to mock the ideas and proclamations of head of the regime Abdel Fattah el-Sisi. 

In it, the village mayor, played by Lotfi el-Hakim, derides Jaaran Effendi with biting sarcasm, “Oh sea of knowledge, oh canal of comprehension […] oh philosopher of donkeys.”

In today’s Egypt—now a republic of unquestionable ideas—crises are managed with the mindset of an “inspired general” who dismisses feasibility studies, tackles unemployment with a vegetable cart, and addresses overpopulation by urging citizens to stop having children for two years.

The latest of head of the regime Abdel Fattah el-Sisi’s head-turning proposals came on May 20, 2025, during the launch of Egypt’s wheat harvest season. 

But rather than laying out a government-backed plan or presenting a shred of economic analysis, el-Sisi took the stage to seriously suggest swapping out farmers’ cows for a “higher-yielding breed”—as if Egypt’s rural heartlands were dotted with Dutch or Australian dairy farms.

“How do I enrich the farmer?” el-Sisi asked. “By taking his cow that produces one kilo of meat and seven kilos of milk per day, and replacing it with a breed that, on the same feed, gives 1.5 kilos of meat and 40 kilos of milk per day.”

The remark triggered a flurry of ridicule and sharp criticism from agricultural experts, who pointed out the logistical absurdity of the plan—namely, that livestock productivity is deeply tied to a region’s climate, environment, and infrastructure.

Dutch Cows

That wasn’t the only eyebrow-raising proposal from head of the regime Abdel Fattah el-Sisi. 

Since seizing power in a military coup back in 2013, el-Sisi has made a habit of floating grandiose, often baffling solutions—many of which have become fodder for satire across Egypt and the Arab world.

One such moment came in August 2021, during a meeting with then-Prime Minister Mostafa Madbouly and Agriculture Minister el-Sayed el-Quseir. 

There, el-Sisi announced an ambitious project: the importation of 250,000 Holstein cows from the Netherlands, with a price tag exceeding 15 billion Egyptian pounds. The aim? To bridge the country’s dairy production gap—a plan that critics said ignored both economic logic and environmental realities.

The project was not the result of scientific research or expert consultation but rather a personal vision embraced by the general himself. 

He even called on charitable organisations to support the poor by distributing imported cows.

Yet, the “Dutch” cow that impressed the president on paper has collided with the harsh realities of Egypt’s hot and impoverished environment.

According to specialists’ studies, the imported cow requires a strict dietary regimen costing around 400 Egyptian pounds a day—more than double the 150 pounds needed to feed the local breed.

During one conference, el-Sisi reassured the public, claiming that “imported and local cows have the same nutritional needs”—a statement whose source remains unclear.

The reality soon became apparent: Dutch cows cannot withstand Egypt’s high temperatures, suffering from heat stress that drastically reduces their productivity.

They also lose immunity to common diseases such as foot-and-mouth fever, necessitating costly cooling systems and veterinary care plans—resources largely unavailable in Egypt’s rural villages.

Another hurdle emerged: a single dose of Dutch cattle semen costs $120 and often requires multiple attempts before successfully fertilizing.

While el-Sisi promoted the project as a revolutionary breakthrough, the then agriculture minister, el-Sayed el-Quseir, reportedly confided to sector insiders that the idea was fundamentally flawed, according to local sources such as Mada Masr.

El-Quseir warned that the project “would destroy the local livestock industry,” stressing that each imported cow costs up to $3,000 with no guaranteed return on investment.

The Furniture City in Damietta

In 2017, on the reclaimed shores of Lake Manzala, el-Sisi launched the Damietta Furniture City project, spanning 331 acres.

Touted as one of the general’s visionary initiatives to modernize Egypt’s furniture industry, the project was executed under the supervision of the Armed Forces Engineering Authority, with a price tag of 3.6 billion Egyptian pounds.

The development included 1,348 workshops and five service centers — yet shockingly, not a single feasibility study was conducted.

In a speech during the city’s grand opening in 2019, el-Sisi declared that Damietta Furniture City would “take Egypt’s furniture industry to the global stage.” Perhaps he meant global losses. 

Within months, voices from Damietta itself — including then-governor Manal Awad Mikhail— began reporting massive losses and repeated managerial failures.

When it became clear that the furniture leap had yet to reach the market, el-Sisi, following a familiar pattern in the new republic, responded by assigning an army-owned company to take over the city’s management.

Yet failure persisted. The city remained devoid of workers, orders, or returns—just empty steel structures and closed workshops. 

Newspaper headlines continued to trumpet “great investment opportunities” that no one could see.

Experts attributed the collapse to political engineering rather than economic planning, pointing to a complete lack of market feasibility studies for such ambitious production.

Adding to the irony, during the city’s opening ceremony, el-Sisi famously lost his temper at a member of the audience, snapping, “Have you studied the subject you’re talking about? Have you studied it? What is this? Are you sure you’ve studied what you’re saying?”

“Do you want the state to rise or to die? Please study the matters carefully before you speak,” el-Sisi noted.

New Mansoura

On December 2, 2022, el-Sisi stood to inaugurate what he called “the first phase of New Mansoura City,” located along the international coastal road between Gamasa, Kafr el Sheikh, and Damietta.

This colossal project covered 2,500 feddans out of a planned 7,200, with a staggering budget of 24 billion Egyptian pounds, all in the hope that this coastal city would become a new Mediterranean dream.

But the dream quickly evaporated, leaving behind only silent towers watching the sea—without a single resident in sight.

The project, which began as a fleeting idea in 2010 and was revived by el-Sisi in 2022, followed the familiar pattern of presidential initiatives overseen by the Armed Forces Engineering Authority.

What official statements failed to mention was that the housing units were ready for handover — yet no one was knocking on their doors.

According to al-Usbua and Darb, interest in reservations was minimal, despite heavily funded media campaigns.

The scene recalls the failed “partial rollouts” witnessed in the New Administrative Capital, New Alamein, and other so-called map cities—projects built in the general’s imagination only to crash against the harsh realities of Egypt’s economic and social landscape.

As administrative failures rarely incur accountability, the dismissal of the city’s overseer, engineer Alaa Manea, on May 13, 2024, came across as a mere symbolic course correction, with engineer Ahmed Omran stepping in as his replacement.

New Mansoura was no exception, but rather another chapter in the ongoing saga of cities constructed for tourists or phantom investors, while millions of Egyptians in neglected villages and informal settlements remain deprived of the most basic rights to a dignified life.

A Lightbulb and a Vegetable Cart

Since coming to power in 2014, el-Sisi has become known for a series of proposals that have been met with widespread ridicule.

When asked about his plan to resolve Egypt’s energy crisis, he made no mention of renewable energy, infrastructure improvements, or opening the sector to private investment. 

Instead, he confidently declared that the solution lay in “changing the light bulbs” in people’s homes.

The idea sparked a wave of mockery across social media, reaching its peak when a presenter on Sky News Arabia — broadcasting from Abu Dhabi, the regime’s closest political ally — expressed genuine disbelief, asking, “Is it possible that by changing a light bulb in my home, I can save Egypt’s economy?!”

But the general didn’t take kindly to being cornered, responding evasively: “With science, not words […] there’s no chance to add new power plants […] and we’re heading into a summer crisis.”

As for the bread shortage, his solution was even simpler: every citizen should take one loaf and divide it into four.

The subsidised bread loaf in Egypt weighs 90 grams, as set by the Ministry of Supply and Internal Trade. 

By el-Sisi’s logic, that means each person would receive just 22.5 grams.

Regarding unemployment, el-Sisi proposed a national plan no less ambitious, declaring in a talk show that he would solve it by distributing 1,000 vegetable carts to young people in el-Obour market.

Then, on February 25, 2016, in a moment difficult to classify as either serious or comedic, el-Sisi appeared one morning urging Egyptians to “donate one pound from their phone credit daily to save the nation.”

El-Sisi declared in his usual booming voice, “Send Egypt a pound from your mobile,” before adding in a reprimanding tone, “Who do you think you are? If you love Egypt, just listen to me!”

As soon as his speech ended, social media exploded with the hashtag #SendEgyptAPound, quickly trending amid a flood of ridicule.

Gaddafi’s Successor

Commenting for Al-Estiklal, Professor of Psychology and Sociology Dr. Mohamed Ghabbour said, “The way el-Sisi handles Egypt’s economic crises is not just a series of misguided attempts, but reflects a very clear psychological pattern.”

“He belongs to a category of leaders suffering from megalomania, who possess absolute confidence that their ideas—no matter how naive or illogical they may seem—are capable of changing the fate of their people.”

“When el-Sisi claims to be ‘the philosopher’s doctor,’ and suggests saving the economy by changing a lightbulb or solving the bread crisis by dividing a loaf, he is not joking with the public. Rather, he is expressing a genuine inner conviction that he possesses a genius vision unseen by others,” Ghabbour added.

“This is a hallmark of psychological patterns known throughout the history of authoritarian regimes, from the former Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi, who declared his Green Book a universal constitution, to Uganda’s former president Idi Amin, who called himself the ‘a pure son of Africa,’ and the ‘Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular’.”

“Like any military general raised in an institution that rejects dialogue and debate, el-Sisi sees ruling as issuing orders, not crafting policies. He places no value on economic principles, logic, or lessons from past experiences.”

“Instead, he relies on enforced discipline and media spectacle. This is where the danger lies—because, in the end, it is the people who bear the cost of reckless leaders. History’s lessons, from North Korea to Iraq, bear witness to this.”

“What we see in Egypt is not merely administrative or economic failure, but a psychological shift toward authoritarianism; where the general becomes the center of the universe, and his ideas—no matter how absurd or failed—are turned into state-enforced projects and policies,” Ghabbour concluded.