On a brisk October morning in Nicosia, the divided capital of Cyprus, a landmark court decision sent ripples far beyond the courtroom’s stone walls. Shimon Mistriel Aykout, a 75-year-old Israeli businessman who also holds Portuguese and Turkish citizenship, was sentenced to five years in prison for illegally developing and selling luxury apartments on Greek Cypriot-owned land in the island’s breakaway northern region. The verdict, delivered on October 24, 2025, marks one of the most significant legal actions in the long, tangled saga of Cyprus’s property disputes—a saga that has its roots in the island’s violent partition more than half a century ago.
Aykout’s arrest in June 2024, as he crossed from the north into the Greek Cypriot-controlled south, set the stage for a case that would quickly become emblematic of Cyprus’s unresolved ethnic and political rifts. Over the course of a decade, from 2014 to 2024, Aykout’s Afik Group of Companies developed approximately 400,000 square meters (about 4.3 million square feet) of property in four northern villages, all of it owned by Greek Cypriots who fled the region after the 1974 Turkish invasion. The developments, valued at more than 38 million euros—roughly $44 million—were sold without the permission of the original owners, whose access to their lands has been blocked for decades.
In court, Aykout pleaded guilty to 40 counts of illegal development and sales. His supporters, both in Israel and the United States, lobbied for leniency on health grounds, citing his prostate cancer. But the three-judge panel was unmoved, rejecting requests for his release for medical examination abroad and insisting that Cypriot medical facilities were adequate. The sentence, they said, was tough but necessary given the seriousness of the crime, though it did account for time already served in police custody.
The prosecutor, Andreas Aristides, made the gravity of the situation plain. “The court’s decision sends a clear message ... that if you buy, build or otherwise use land in the occupied areas that belongs to Greek Cypriots, you’re committing serious criminal acts,” Aristides told reporters, according to the Associated Press. His words echoed far beyond the courthouse, resonating in the bustling construction sites and real estate offices of northern Cyprus, where the illusion of legal impunity had reigned for years.
“Do not exploit stolen property, as you may soon have an arrest warrant in your name,” warned Simos Angelides, a lawyer in Nicosia, in comments to the Associated Press. Though not directly involved in the case, Angelides noted that the ruling had “triggered panic” in the north’s booming real estate and construction industry, effectively shattering the sense that developers and agents could operate without consequence.
Cyprus’s property disputes are deeply entwined with its modern history. The island was split in 1974 after Turkey invaded in response to a Greek junta-backed coup aimed at uniting Cyprus with Greece. About 160,000 Greek Cypriots fled the north, abandoning homes and lands as Turkish Cypriots declared an independent state recognized only by Turkey. In turn, around 45,000 Turkish Cypriots moved from the south to the north, leaving their own properties behind. Decades of United Nations-mediated talks have failed to resolve these issues, leaving the island’s property map a patchwork of claims, counterclaims, and bitter memories.
While the internationally recognized government in the south has no authority in the Turkish-backed north, Cypriot courts have made it clear that the passage of time and the island’s division do not erase the property rights of the original owners. Both the European Court of Human Rights and the European Union’s top court have affirmed Greek Cypriot property rights in the north. At the same time, the European Court of Human Rights has backed the establishment of a Turkish Cypriot property commission, which allows Greek Cypriots to seek compensation or, in some cases, reclaim their property.
The Aykout case is not an isolated incident. Over the past year alone, Cyprus has prosecuted another Israeli, a Ukrainian, a German, and two Hungarians on similar charges. In May 2025, two Hungarian women who had earned commissions as real estate agents in the north were sentenced to 36 and 15 months, respectively. Several other cases remain pending, and the message from Cypriot authorities is unmistakable: exploiting Greek Cypriot land in the occupied north will not go unpunished.
Not surprisingly, Turkish Cypriot leaders and business groups have reacted with anger and alarm. Tufan Erhurman, a center-left politician elected as Turkish Cypriot leader just this week, argued that the issue of Greek Cypriot property in the north can only be resolved through negotiations, not through criminal prosecutions. Cafer Gurcafer, head of the Turkish Cypriot Contractors’ Association, warned that up to 85% of privately owned property in the north could be entangled in similar legal battles, potentially scaring off investors and crippling the region’s real estate market.
The tension has spilled over into tit-for-tat actions. In July, five Greek Cypriots were arrested on spying charges after crossing into the north, an incident widely seen as retaliation for the prosecutions of developers and realtors. Just a month earlier, Turkish Vice President Cevded Yilmaz had warned that attempts to harm the Turkish Cypriot economy through politically motivated legal means would “not be tolerated.”
Greek Cypriot President Nikos Christodoulides has repeatedly emphasized the independence of the judiciary. Still, he has also argued that Aykout’s guilty plea vindicates his government’s policy of exposing and prosecuting illicit property exploitation in the north. “The judiciary is independent,” Christodoulides said, but the outcome supports his administration’s efforts to shine a light on the shadowy world of property deals in the occupied areas.
All the while, ordinary Cypriots—both Greek and Turkish—are left to navigate the consequences of a decades-old conflict that continues to shape their lives, their homes, and their futures. The property question remains a central obstacle to any hope of reunification. While international courts and commissions offer some avenues for redress, the lived reality is far messier, with legal victories often colliding with political stalemates and simmering resentments.
As the dust settles on the Aykout verdict, the message from the Cypriot courts is clear: the passage of time does not erase legal rights, and those who profit from the island’s unresolved divisions may find themselves facing more than just civil claims. For now, the case stands as both a warning and a testament to the enduring complexities of Cyprus’s divided landscape.