Comment l'Égypte a vaincu l'hépatite C : la plus grande campagne de dépistage et de traitement au monde

Not so long ago, Egypt carried an unenviable title: the highest prevalence of hepatitis C virus in the world. Today, the Egyptian experience is taught in international public health circles as a model of what political will can achieve when it meets modern science and good organization. It is a rare story of transformation — from a crushing national burden to an achievement certified by the World Health Organization.

The roots of the tragedy go back to the mid-twentieth century, when the state waged mass campaigns to treat schistosomiasis, the parasitic disease that had exhausted Egypt's farmers for centuries. Injections in those days were given with glass syringes refilled and reused many times without adequate sterilization — in an era when hepatitis C had not even been discovered. And so, with the intention of curing one disease, another silent virus passed between hundreds of thousands of bodies, and kept spreading for decades through blood transfusions and unsterilized medical instruments.

When accurate testing became available, the scale of the catastrophe emerged: national health surveys around a decade ago indicated that roughly one in ten Egyptian adults carried antibodies to the virus, meaning they had been exposed to infection at some point. Chronic infection was slowly scarring livers, until liver disease and its complications — cirrhosis and liver cancer — became a leading cause of death and suffering in the country.

For many years the available treatment, interferon injections, was an ordeal: months of weekly injections with harsh, flu-like side effects, and modest cure rates that at best reached about half of patients. Many preferred to live with the disease rather than endure the journey, and the virus kept spreading and taking its toll.

Then came the scientific turning point: direct-acting antivirals, led by sofosbuvir, which reached the world market in the middle of the last decade. Pills taken by mouth for a matter of weeks, with cure rates above ninety-five percent and limited side effects. The only problem was the exorbitant international price. Egypt negotiated an unprecedented discount, then opened the door for local pharmaceutical companies to produce equivalent generics that brought the cost of a full treatment course down to a small fraction of the global price.

Cheap medicine alone is not enough if patients do not know they are patients. That is where the boldest step came in: the '100 Million Healthy Lives' campaign, launched in the autumn of 2018 with a goal without precedent anywhere — to screen every adult in the country. Testing was free, in health units, hospitals, and mobile points that reached villages, hamlets, and railway stations. By linking results to the national ID number, every positive case could be tracked and routed into a clear treatment pathway.

Within months, tens of millions were screened — around sixty million adults — in what stands as the largest medical screening campaign for a single disease in the history of public health. Nor did the campaign stop at hepatitis C: it also measured blood pressure, blood sugar, and obesity, becoming a comprehensive survey of non-communicable diseases as well.

Anyone confirmed positive moved into a complete, free treatment pathway: confirmatory tests, an assessment of the liver's condition, then a course of direct-acting antivirals. Through this pathway, more than four million Egyptians were treated over the program's years, and the prevalence of active infection fell sharply — a decline without precedent in a country of this population size.

International recognition crowned the journey: in 2023, the World Health Organization awarded Egypt 'gold tier' status on the path to eliminating hepatitis C — the first country in the world to receive it. It means Egypt met strict criteria on diagnosis, treatment, blood safety, and infection control, and that what remains is preserving those gains until the disease is fully declared eliminated as a public health threat.

The battle is not entirely over. Preserving the achievement demands constant vigilance: screening couples before marriage, pregnant women, and blood donors; strict sterilization of medical instruments and of barbering and tattooing tools outside health facilities; and treating any new cases immediately, before they can pass on the infection. Those who developed advanced fibrosis before treatment still need regular liver monitoring even after the virus itself is cured.

The Egyptian experience distills three lessons that have become a global reference: a political decision that made the issue a top national priority, cheap locally produced medicine that broke the global price monopoly, and a simple patient pathway from test to cure with no complications and no cost. Many countries still burdened by the virus now look to replicate those lessons with the support of the World Health Organization.

At the individual level, the message is simple: if you have never been tested, the test is free and available at public health facilities — and if an infection is found, the treatment is a course of pills for a limited number of weeks, with near-complete cure rates. A virus that preyed on Egyptians for nearly a century can now be defeated with a drop of blood and a tablet.