More on that black sarcophagus and the GOLD inside…

Just a quick update following my previous post on the black sarcophagus discovered in Alexandria in July (2018). The results of the first investigations into the three skeletons discovered when the sarcophagus was opened on 19 July* have now been made available. They represent the bodies of a young woman of perhaps 20 to 25 years, and two men, one who died in his 30s, and the other in his 40s (as reported e.g. in ahramonline and The Indepenedent). The elder man’s skull exhibits a round cavity which seemed to have healed over prior to death, and may be evidence of trepanation.

Perhaps more interestingly (I’m not a specialist in human remains) the sarcophagus did, it turns out, contain a little ‘treasure’ after all, in the form of a gold object of uncertain type, and three gold plaques, roughly square in shape measuring 3 to 5 cm across.

The four gold objects discovered inside the sarcophagus. Copyright Ministry of Antiquities, taken from ahramonline.

Each of the plaques is decorated with a simple motif in low relief, apparently applied using the repoussé technique (hammering the design from the reverse side). One appears to show the pod of an opium poppy, the second something like a palm frond or perhaps an ear of corn (as suggested via LiveScience), while the third shows a coiled snake. It has been proposed (here) that the designs relate to military rank, but the snake immediately put me in mind of the agathodaimons – beneficent snake demons – flanking the entranceway to the main tomb at Kom es-Shoqafa. The iconography isn’t quite the same but it’s an interesting connection with perhaps the best known tomb in Alexandria.

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Entranceway to the burial chamber in the main tomb at Kom es-Shoqafa, flanked by coiled agathodaimons

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Detail of the agathodaimon to the right of the entrance to the burial chamber of the main tomb at Kom es-Shoqafa

*Mea culpa: I should have mentioned that that brilliant source of information on new discoveries made in Egypt, Luxor Times, posted a wonderful series of photographs showing all the stages in the opening of the sarcophagus here. The insertion of wooden wedges in between the sarcophagus basin and lid to prize it open put me in mind of a favourite object of mine: the mallet left behind by robbers in Mastaba 17 (Fourth Dynasty, reign of Sneferu) at Meydum. No improvement in technique required in over four thousand years…

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The black sarcophagus lid being wedged open. Copyright Ministry of Antiquities, taken from Luxor Times.

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Sarcophagus in mastaba 17 at Meydum with its lid partially displaced by robbers, one end raised on top of a mallet which was inserted to help roll the lid back

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The robber’s mallet still trapped in between the sarcophagus basin and lid. #redhanded

You’ll find more on the opening of tombs, robberies etc in my book, Searching for the Lost Tombs of Egypt, which will be out in October. For more info or to pre-order please go here.

That black sarcophagus in Alexandria

On 1 July 2018 the Egyptian ministry of Antiquities announced that it had found “an ancient tomb dating back to the Ptolemaic period (containing) a black granite sarcophagus considered to be the largest to be discovered in Alexandria. … the tomb was found at a depth of 5 m beneath the surface … An alabaster head of a man was also found and most probably belongs to the owner of the tomb.” This is the full announcement:

The discovery of a previously unknown ancient tomb in Egypt is not that uncommon. Scroll back through the Ministry of Antiquities’ Facebook page (here) which it uses to circulate regular reports about its activities and you will see brief reports on numerous such discoveries made in recent weeks and months. Highlights include the revelation of the tomb of Ramesses II’s army general, another belonging to a Goldsmith, the pyramid of a Thirteenth Dynasty princess, and even a workshop where the bodies of the recently deceased were mummified. Just this week it was announced that the burial chambers of two high officials of the Middle Kingdom had been found at Beni Hasan in Middle Egypt. Egyptian archaeology can sometimes seem relentlessly thrilling.

The fact that the discovery of the black sarcophagus was made in Alexandria piqued my curiosity more than most such stories however, as I have recently been writing about the possibility that the tombs of two of the most famous figures in the ancient world might yet be awaiting us in this part of the world: Alexander the Great and Cleopatra.


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The main harbour in Alexandria. The remains of some of the most important monuments of the era of the Ptolemies and Cleopatra have been found beneath the ocean here

When the archaeology of this great ancient city has been the focus of media interest in recent years it is usually because of discoveries made underwater. Many of the most important monuments of ancient times were built along the Mediterranean shoreline, and then destroyed when, in 365 CE, an Earthquake lowered the level of the sea floor by several metres, inviting the ocean to flood anything that had been built too close to the water’s edge. This new discovery was made on dry land however. Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of the find was described by the Ministry as follows:

“It is noted that there is a layer of mortar between the lid and the body of the sarcophagus indicating that it had not been opened since it was closed in antiquity.”

Whoever had been buried in this sarcophagus was, it seemed, still in there, undisturbed.

Archetypal Archaeology

It seems to me that intact ancient Egyptian tombs are the archetypal archaeological discovery, at least as far as the popular imagination is concerned. Howard Carter’s excavation of the tomb of Tutankhamun represents the ultimate, real life example (although pedants will note that in fact that tomb wasn’t quite intact, having been entered shortly after the burial and the contents slightly disturbed), and the inspiration for countless fictional discoveries since, from the setting for the start of various The Mummy movies, and (how could I fail to mention) the opening to the classic Dr Who story, The Pyramids of Mars, among many other films etc.

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Professor Marcus Scarman enters an ancient Egyptian tomb at the beginning of the Dr Who serial Pyramids of Mars © BBC 1975.

This new tomb in Alexandria was never going to be quite like that however. In this case, it was not the tomb – which seems to have been composed of a shaft of 5m depth, and not much more – but the sarcophagus, that was intact.

More clues?

I’m often asked to provide comment on news stories like this for television and radio. To be honest it can be quite difficult to add anything very insightful because we specialists usually have little more to go on than the very sketchy information provided in the press. We are accustomed in our own research to referring to far more detailed reports and it often feels a little unnerving being asked to comment publicly without knowing more. But that’s how it works, and we do our best.

Based on the information provided, directly or indirectly by the Ministry’s statement and the photos and press reports that followed, my assessment was as follows:

The tomb seemed to consist of a simple, if quite large shaft, rectangular in plan and of 5m in depth, but not much more. This was undecorated (as shafts usually are).

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Image of the shaft (at bottom right) taken from a video posted to The Guardian online via YouTube (here). This photo does a better job than most in circulation of showing why it is so difficult to recover much of the archaeological evidence of ancient Alexandria: the ancient city now lies underneath the very densely populated modern city. This shaft came to light when one of the local inhabitants was excavating the foundations of a modern building. It’s very likely that there is still much more underneath other buildings like the ones shown here.

The shaft was found in Al Karmeli Street in the Sidi Gaber district to the north east of the main harbour, a little way outside the area we believe the major royal buildings of the Ptolemaic Period to have been located.

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Satellite image of Alexandria showing the location of the black sarcophagus (the green pin). To explore this Google Map of the location of key ancient sites go here.

We were told that the burial was thought to date from the Ptolemaic Period (323 – 30 BCE). This seemed reasonable to me. The burial couldn’t have been made much earlier than this: Alexandria was founded by Alexander the Great in 332 BCE on an earlier, much smaller settlement called Rhakotis, but didn’t really take shape until building got underway during the reigns of Ptolemy I Soter (reigned 323–283 BCE) and his son and successor Ptolemy II Philadelphus (283-246 BCE). This shaft burial was very unlikely to have been older than the Ptolemaic therefore.

The sarcophagus itself may have been a little older however. It was made of a black granite, a hard and expensive stone, and was very large indeed (265 cm in length). Its lid is of a common Late Period (26th – 30th Dynasty) type. While the underside is flat so as to sit flush on top of the sarcophagus basin beneath, its upper surface reaches a greater height at the head end so that in profile it slopes upwards. Looking down onto the lid one sees a central column which from left to right is horizontal to the ground, but either side of this the surfaces slope downwards, so that on end the lid takes on a trapezoid shape, like a pitched roof with a flat central section. The head end of the lid is curved.


Image of the sarcophagus lid still in place in the shaft. Copyright Ministry of Antiquities, taken from the announcement here.

These features correspond to other well-known sarcophagus lids. A quick (if unscientific) search of museum collections online and my own photo collection provided a few comparable examples, including these ones:


Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, the sarcophagus of Wereshnefer, Dynasty 30–early Ptolemaic Period, from the tomb of Wereshnefer, Saqqara. Further info and more images here.


Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, the sarcophagus of Wennefer, Dynasty 30–2nd Persian Period, from the tomb of Wennefer, Saqqara. Further info and more images here.

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Sarcophagus of an Apis bull bearing an inscription of year 2 of pharaoh Khabash, a rebel who led a revolt against the second wave of Persian oppressors in approximately 338 to 335 BCE. In situ in the Serapeum at Saqqara.

All of these are dated approximately to the Late Period i.e. the period around or immediately before Alexandria was created.

So how could a Late Period sarcophagus end up being used for a Ptolemaic-era burial? There is a simple explanation: sarcophagi such as this would have been extremely expensive, and only the very wealthiest would have been able to afford to commission a new one of their own. There are, unsurprisingly therefore, lots of examples of sarcophagi such as this having been re-used. In this case it’s not difficult to imagine that the sarcophagus was made during the Late Period but was perhaps abandoned and then re-appropriated at a later date, perhaps bought for a knock-down price from the quarry or workshop where it was cut, and transferred to Alexandria after it had come into being as Egypt’s capital. The abandonment might also explain another of the features of this particular sarcophagus: it was undecorated. This is a great shame as any inscriptions would probably have provided the name of the owner and perhaps a little information about him or her. Even better, a name might have allowed us to connect the deceased with sources elsewhere, allowing us to flesh out their story.

So who was buried inside this sarcophagus?

It seemed that only by opening it would we be able to find out. What was revealed turned out not to be quite what everyone was hoping for. The Ministry of Antiquities’ announcement was as follows:

While the sarcophagus may have been intact insofar as it hadn’t been violated by robbers it seems the mortar seal had not been sufficient to prevent the ingress of dirty water from a nearby leaky sewage pipe. All that was left inside apart from a pool of stinking red-brown water, were the skeletal remains of three separate individuals who, it has been suggested may have been soldiers, owing to one of them exhibiting signs of having suffered an arrow wound to the head.

Whether there will be more to learn about who these people were, beyond their gender, age, cause of death and perhaps their relationship to one another, remains to be seen.

Not the tomb of Alexander the Great … So where was he buried?

One thing we can be fairly clear about now is that this was not, contrary to suggestions made by some observers, the tomb of Alexander the Great. It seems likely there was some great monument built to house the body of this great figure, it was probably in Alexandria, and it’s never been found so it’s perhaps not surprising that any discovery of a monumental tomb in the city would prompt such speculation.

Writing a book called Searching for the Lost Tombs of Egypt as I have been for the last couple of years has turned out not to be great for my nerves, given the frequency with which new tombs are found. Every time a new discovery is announced I get a sinking feeling: what if they find one of the tombs that my book says are currently missing but might soon be discovered?

In this case, fortunately, I knew I had no need to worry. A number of classical texts tell us that Alexander was, ultimately, laid to rest in a mausoleum in Alexandria known as the ‘Sema’ or ‘Soma’ a very grand monument built to house not only his burial but also those of his successors, the Ptolemies. This great edifice was built during the reign of Ptolemy IV Philopator (221-204 BCE) and was still standing at least a few centuries later when, we are told, it was visited by the Roman Emperor Caracalla (198-217 CE). The sources are frustratingly vague about its location however, and no trace of it has ever been found in the archaeological record, leading some to speculate that it may yet await discovery.

Alexander’s body must also have lain somewhere else in the decades prior to the construction of the Sema, presumably in an earlier tomb perhaps dedicated to him alone. Various anonymous tombs of approximately the right date, and of Macedonian, rather than Egyptian, style have been suggested to have been the first Alexandrian tomb – the grandest monuments at Shatby, and the ‘Alabaster tomb’ are of Macedonian style and the right approximate date – but again the clinching evidence has been lacking, and for most scholars there is no surviving trace of this earlier tomb either.

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Some of the grander tombs at Shatby, a district of Alexandria just north east of the palaces district, exhibit features which correspond to what we might expect of the first tomb of Alexander – they are very grand, and Macedonian in style but there is nothing explicitly to connect them with Alexander

The recently discovered shaft and sarcophagus certainly did not fit the descriptions we have of the Sema. Some might have thought it another candidate for the earlier tomb but if this one ever is found it will surely not be sealed as we know Alexander’s body was moved from it to the Sema.

Still, I wasn’t surprised that Alexander’s name was mentioned in all the speculation prior to the sarcophagus being opened, and I wasn’t unhappy about that either. As I’ve noted elsewhere, Egyptology thrives on sensational stories, particularly the possibility that something thrilling like an ancient celebrity’s tomb might be discovered, and I don’t see any great harm in this kind of speculation provided such claims can be effectively rebuffed by those with specialist knowledge (as was the case in the film here, a representative of the Ministry of Antiquities quickly quashing the idea).

The sarcophagus also reminded me of a favourite object of mine, which is perhaps the closest thing we have to the evidence of Alexander’s tomb.

The ‘tomb of Alexander’ in the British Museum*

In 1798 the British defeated Napoleon’s army in the ‘Battle of the Nile’ in Aboukir Bay, around 30km north east of Alexandria. Having seen off the enemy the British set about taking charge in Egypt. One aspect of their business was the seizure of the choicest antiquities which the French had been collecting. The most famous of these was a lump of granodiorite, the remains of a stela of the reign of Ptolemy V bearing a text written in three scripts: the cursive, handwritten form we call Demotic, and the more formal hieroglyphic script (both used to write the ancient Egyptian language), and ancient Greek. It was found to have been re-used as part of masonry of a fort near the town of Rashid or ‘Rosetta’ and is now known as the ‘Rosetta Stone’. At the time, another potentially important object had come to the attention of the British authorities. They had heard that the French were in possession of ‘the tomb of Alexander the Great’.

This turned out to be the basin of a very large sarcophagus of the pharaonic period. It was found within the courtyard of a mosque, el-Attarin, in the centre of Alexandria, and had been known as Alexander’s tomb thanks to a local legend that was at least a few centuries old by that time. At this point, at the turn of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the decipherment of the Egyptian language was still a couple of decades away. The Rosetta Stone is now world famous because its inscriptions allowed Jean-Francois Champollion to decipher the ancient Egyptian language and, from then on, for the vast quantity of ancient texts that were already known by that point to be read for the first time in the modern era. When this knowledge was applied to the sarcophagus from el-Attarin mosque, which had by that time made its way to the British Museum, it became clear that it was in fact made for the last pharaoh of the 30th Dynasty, Nectanebo II. So not Alexander’s sarcophagus after all. Or could it have been? As mentioned above, there is plenty of evidence for sarcophagi having been re-used….

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The sarcophagus of Nectanebo II now on display in the Egyptian sculpture gallery in the British Museum

Nectanebo II was the last ruler of pharaonic Egypt. His reign came to an end when he was ousted by Artaxerxes III, the first ruler of a second wave of Persians to take control of the country. He was said to have fled to Nubia and never returned to Egypt. The Persian Empire was Alexander’s great enemy, and it was Alexander who, in defeating them, liberated a very grateful Egypt from their rule. The three Persian emperors who ruled the country during that brief period, Artaxerxes III, Artaxerxes IV and Darius III, were hated in Egypt.

In the period immediately following Alexander’s death in 323 BCE in Babylon there was considerable uncertainty about how and where Alexander should be buried and who should succeed him as ruler of his vast empire. It seemed that responsibility for burying Alexander would rest with whoever was to be his successor. Ptolemy, an army general who had been one of Alexander’s closest confidants, wanted to take charge of Egypt, and made a decisive move in autumn 321 by stealing the body before any of his rivals could do anything about it.

Having brought the body to the Egyptian capital at Memphis Ptolemy sought to capitalize on Alexander’s popularity with the Egyptians by drawing a direct connection between the great man and Nectanebo. In one legend, perhaps created or at least encouraged by Ptolemy himself, Nectanebo visited Macedon after the Persian invasion in the guise of the Egyptian god Amun, and seduced the Macedonian king Philip’s wife who subsequently gave birth to a child: Alexander. How very convenient for Ptolemy in his attempts to become the legitimate ruler of Egypt, that Alexander’s father should have been at once both the last native pharaoh, and also Egypt’s premier god.

In order to seal the deal for himself Ptolemy needed to give Alexander a full and proper burial in Egypt, and having been pursued there by his rivals he must have known he had little time. But where to find what he needed to create a suitable monument to receive the body of his master? In the normal course of events when a new pharaoh came to the throne one of his first acts would have been to commission a grand tomb for himself, and everything to go in it, including a monumental sarcophagus. Nectanebo would have been no different – his sarcophagus was probably made relatively early on his reign. But of course it never served its intended purpose, because Nectanebo was chased out of the country never to return. Could it simply have been lying around unused? If so, what better receptacle could there have been for Alexander’s body than a sarcophagus created for his mythical father? And when the newly built city of Alexandria was finally ready to receive the body of its founder a few years later, could it have been transported in that very same sarcophagus? Is that how this object came to be in the courtyard of el-Attarin mosque. And could the legend that this was ‘Alexander’s tomb’ in fact have been based in truth?

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When you’re next in London I recommend you go and take a look…

Searching for the Lost Tombs of Egypt will be published in the UK on 11 October 2018 and in North America on 28 November. Pre-order from Amazon here.

*My writing on Alexander’s tomb, here and in the book, draws extensively on the work of Andrew Chugg (here) and Nicholas J Saunders’ Alexander’s Tomb in particular.

A new website for the Robert Anderson Trust

The Robert Anderson Trust has a new website, its very first:

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The homepage of the Trust’s new website,

The Trust has been around since 1988, quietly going about its wonderful work – providing students and scholars with accommodation in London. Until 2015 it had been run by its charismatic Founder, the musician and Egyptologist Dr Robert Anderson. But Robert died in November that year, prompting an outpouring of tributes from his many friends, colleagues and students around the world. Robert was a great man, admired by many, and he left many legacies – his writings, the students he taught, the friends to whom he passed on his enthusiasms, the organizations he founded, and the ones he led including the Egypt Exploration Society. But the Trust might just be the most enduring and important of all the gifts he left behind.

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Robert rehearsing Elgar’s The Kingdom in Westminster Cathedral, 1975

Since Robert’s death the Trust’s work has continued, largely thanks to the dedication and hard work of the Coordinator, Howard Davies. I was taken on as Director in November 2016 and at around the same time, Stephen Stuart-Smith was appointed Chair of Trustees. Having had to re-group following the loss of the Founder, and with a new team in place, we are now ready to embark on what feels like a new era in the life of the Trust.

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Recent Trust visitors include the Egyptologists Fatma Hassan (L) of Cairo University and Mohamed Galal of Misr University of Science and Technology, Cairo

Earlier this week we held a small celebration at the Kensington house to gather friends of Robert’s and of the Trust, old and new. One of Robert’s many talents was his ability to bring people together, and he did this to the benefit of his own work, and that of the organisations with which he was involved, and also as a means of helping others. We wanted those who knew Robert, and his house with all his books, musical instruments, and its atmosphere of great learning and culture, to remember him, and to share memories with one another, and particularly with those who did not know him so well or even at all. We wanted to refresh and extend Robert’s own network, and to inspire new friends to continue to remember his work, and to know, support and spread the word about his Trust.

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Dr Anderson’s music room in which the recent celebration was held

The evening also marked the launch of the new website, which represents our first step towards extending that network online. We are ready to tell the world what the organization is and what it does. We want you to know the Trust and its work, to know Robert and his story, and to ask yourselves if you know of any worthy students or scholars who might benefit from a visit to London with the Trust’s support. Perhaps you are just such a person yourself…

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Dr Anderson with new friends at the White Monastery, Sohag, Egypt

This autumn we will be inviting applications for visits to London in 2018. Please take a look at the website, get to know the Trust’s story and its current work, and to imagine how we might develop what we offer in future. Please follow us via the website, Facebook, Twitter or Instagram, or by dropping us a line here to add your name to our electronic mailing list. Let us know what you think or if you have any questions. We’re looking forward to making your acquaintance.

How should we define ‘Egyptologist’?

My colleagues and I at the International Association of Egyptologists (IAE) have recently been looking at the eligibility criteria for membership of the Association, and a working party composed of members of the IAE Council has been established to discuss the issue. This is a question which has interested me for some years but my election as President of the IAE and the debate around membership have given this train of thought a practical application, and caused me to refine my ideas a little.

When I was studying Egyptology at university there came a point around the end of my second undergraduate year when I decided I wanted to have a go at making a career in the subject. I wanted to be an Egyptologist. What does this mean? At the time I must have had a pretty limited idea of what it meant. I knew some of the things my lecturers did like teaching and writing articles and books – that all seemed pretty good. There were other people who led excavations in Egypt, although I knew they were often also university lecturers, or museum curators, I knew you could earn a living doing that too. I hadn’t initially considered jobs like the one I took shortly afterwards at the EES, where I was mainly responsible for processing membership applications and looking after the library. Could I describe myself as ‘an Egyptologist’, I wondered at that point? I distinctly remember wondering about it – and hoping, I suppose! – but being too embarrassed to ask in case I was laughed at. At the time I had just completed a research degree (an MPhil) in Egyptology, I had written a ‘thesis’ – an original piece of research – I had been to Egypt, I could read hieroglyphs, I was about to join an archaeological project at Abydos… But did I qualify? As far as my non-Egyptologist friends were concerned I knew loads about ancient Egypt, I had two degrees in it and was now working for the Egypt Exploration Society – so they would probably have said yes! But as far as the Society’s CEO at the time or my old supervisor (both Drs with far more experience than me) were concerned, I had only been studying for a couple years and barely knew anything perhaps. What were the rules on becoming an Egyptologist and who made the judgment? There were – and are – no rules, and no-one in any position to make such judgments, of course.

After a few years, I relaxed a bit and became confident that I met most if not all the criteria I imagined might exist, and comfortable I couldn’t be told off for claiming ‘Egyptologist’ as my profession. At the same time, I stopped worrying about the criteria, and starting thinking that the very idea represented some kind of snobbery. It seemed to me that some believed the term brought with it a certain glamour, or glory(?), which they wanted to keep for themselves and deny to ‘outsiders’. I didn’t like this and started thinking that, in the absence of any recognised approval process or similar, anyone who wanted to call themselves an ‘Egyptologist’ was welcome to do so.

There are many ways in which one could make a contribution to Egyptology, and could therefore be regarded as a practicing Egyptologist. Many of the Association’s members will satisfy most if not all the criteria one might use to define what it means to be an Egyptologist, by having certain academic qualifications in Egyptology, usually including a PhD; by holding a ‘position’ within the field, that is to say they are employed by an academic institution, usually a university or museum; and they are actively engaged in fieldwork and/or research. But what of those to whom only one or two of these criteria apply? What of those who gained qualifications in other subjects but whose specialist expertise has nonetheless been applied to research on ancient Egypt? What of those in permanent positions whose work does not allow them any active involvement in research? What of those whose Egyptological work has continued even though they are employed in unrelated roles, as jobs in the field are so difficult to come by?

Egyptology ought, in my view, to be flexible enough to embrace anyone making a contribution to the field, regardless of their circumstances or background etc. I myself do not have a ‘position’ in the field as such at present, having left my post as Director of the Egypt Exploration Society to pursue a freelance career as a writer, broadcaster and public speaker (work which is all connected to Egyptology in some regard) and the same could be said for many of our colleagues – unsurprisingly, given that the number of jobs available is vastly outweighed by the number of qualified candidates. We should be careful to support all such people rather than to exclude them on the basis of the dogma that only those who are employed should count.

For a long time I couldn’t see any practical benefit in cultivating a kind of exclusivity for Egyptologists of a particular kind, and liked the idea of dismantling the snobbery. I still don’t like the snobbery, of course. However, since thinking about the Association, I’ve begun to refine my ideas a little.

We ‘Egyptologists’ are often called on to provide authoritative judgments or comments, for example, for television programmes, the news media etc. On a few occasions recently, these have involved some very important issues for our subject, such as the threat posed to ancient sites and monuments by looters, vandals or even terrorists, or the trafficking of antiquities. In such situations the representatives of our subject must, of course, be able to demonstrate academic authority – in other words they must show that they have the necessary expertise in Egyptology (being able to call oneself ‘Dr’ is the most convenient way as it indicates a certain level of study, but should not be taken as a universal standard, or even a guarantee of the right kind of authority). But we must also hope that they are able to articulate and promote certain professional and ethical standards. This is where my previous, inclusive stance might potentially let our subject down. Professional Egyptologists should be aware of, actively promote, and uphold in their own practice, these standards. Those without the relevant depth of experience and knowledge could not be relied upon to act accordingly.

I now believe, therefore, that there is good reason to try to define what it means to be a professional Egyptologist and to do so on the basis of an agreed set of guidelines defining professional and ethical standards, best practice etc. Professional Egyptologists should be required to sign up to these standards, and any breach should result in the withdrawal of ‘professional’ status within the Association.

The IAE has for many years provided a definition, albeit one that is broad and inclusive, and open to varying interpretations:

“Professional Membership, open to all scholars having an advanced degree in Egyptology, or in another scientific field but making significant contributions to Egyptology.”

Taken from the Statues of the IAE, 3.1.1. (see here).

It is this that we are now seeking to refine, and in relation to this two issues which must address:

  • There is not sufficient awareness of the IAE’s role in this and the importance of the definitions
  • Such definitions would be much more meaningful when combined with a code of professional and ethical standards.

Two issues which might form part of such a code have been raised more than once, specifically:

  • Respect for intellectual property and the right of individual scholars to publish primary material;
  • The antiquities trade and specifically the argument that the sale of ancient artefacts – legal or otherwise – creates a market which encourages the disappearance of ancient material into private collections, and, potentially, theft from archaeological sites and museums, illicit excavations etc.

My colleagues and I are now looking at these issues with a view to:

  • raising awareness of the International Association
  • encouraging a much larger proportion of professional Egyptologists to become members
  • Establishing code of professional and ethical standards
  • Making use of the Association’s membership to maintain, promote and most importantly uphold the code.

I’d be interested to hear what others think!

(Written on a train in Japan September 2015, at home in London January 2017, and on a plane to Luxor, March 2017).

Searching for missing tombs.. Come with me?

UPDATE 12 April 2017: The tour described below, departing 29 October 2017 has now sold out. However, a second tour is now planned for 6 – 19 March 2018 – for further details please see here (links below have also been changed).

I’ve been writing a book about so-called ‘missing tombs’ for a while now (and hoping to get it done in time for publication in Spring 2018 at the latest, by the way). So when my friends at Ancient World Tours (AWT) got in touch to ask if I’d like to take a group to Egypt and, if so, which sites I’d like to visit, going on the hunt for some of these tombs seemed like the obvious thing to do.


Field walking around KV 54 in the Valley of Kings. What more might yet be found in this most famous of ancient Egyptian cemeteries..? (photo courtesy of Stephen Cross)

Now, before anyone gets over-excited, we’re not going to go blazing in waving trowels around or thrusting shovels into the sand – sorry! – this is more about visiting the sites and examining some of the objects that tell the story of where some of these tombs – of Imhotep, Nefertiti, Cleopatra and others – might be.


Taposiris Magna, site of an ongoing project searching for the tomb of Cleopatra. Let me know if you spot anything…

We’ll be visiting pyramids, catacombs, the Egyptians’ most important place of pilgrimage (Abydos), the Valley of the Kings, and four different ancient Egyptian capital cities (Memphis [Giza and Saqqara], Amarna, Tanis and Alexandria). And in some cases we’ll be able to stand more or less on the spot where I think some of these tombs might be…


The Step Pyramid isn’t difficult to find(!), but might the tomb of its creator, Imhotep, also lie nearby somewhere?

Janet Shepherd and co at AWT have been hard at work planning the trip and figuring out the logistics, and I’m delighted to say the tour has now been advertised (and the first few places already taken). All the info you need is here.


The coffin discovered in KV 55 has raised more questions than it has answered. Who was it made for? For whom was it then repurposed? And which of the Amarna royals that didn’t end up it might yet be found elsewhere? 


The finest of the tombs in the catacombs of Kom es-Shoqafa, Alexandria, the city in which Alexander the Great and Cleopatra might both have been buried…

So, come along? It would be great to have you on board 🙂

More info here:

Tell el-Amarna, place and people

Last week I spent two absolutely wonderful days at Tell el-Amarna. I was looking forward to visiting, but I’d been a couple of time before and didn’t think much of it. Been there done that, know it all already… But it made a much bigger impression on me this time round.

One place, so many stories

Amarna was and is the capital city founded by Akhenaten and Nefertiti, and the setting, therefore, for one of the great stories of the ancient past. That city, Akhetaten, as Akhenaten called it, was also a place where a lot of ordinary people lived – and worked, played, loved, met, talked, argued, got sick, got well again, died, were buried, and did all the other things people do – together, in this one place. It’s also set in an extraordinarily beautiful, archetypally Nile Valley landscape: the broad river with lush green fields punctuated by palm trees at its edge, then a crescent of desert plain bounded at its eastern extent by a glorious arc of cliffs that marks the edge of the valley and the beginning of the high desert nothingness beyond.

screenshot-2016-12-12-01-18-48Satellite image of the site showing the essences of the geography at Amarna: the river and, to the east, the cultivation,  low desert plain, great arc of cliffs, high desert beyond.


Map of the ancient city taken from the Amarna Project website (here). The photograph below was taken in the area of the North Palace 


The view from the ground: looking towards the camera, ready to do some walking shots through the cultivation with the cliffs in the background

The site is also home to the people of the modern village of Et-Till Beni Amra whose name was corrupted and became ‘Tell el-Amarna’ the name we know the site best by today. Further to the south of Et-Till are the villages of El-Hagg Qandil, El-Amariya and El-Hawata esh-Sharqiya (or El-Hawata).

People lived here in the time of Akhenaten, and people live here now.

I was there to help make a documentary with a crew, Nick and Lina, from Blink Films and with our expert contributor, Dr Anna Stevens. We filmed at the north cemetery, the Workmen’s Village, and two unfeasibly lovely riverside locations; we ate two delicious and very Egyptian lunches at the local resthouse; and we drove and hiked around the site inbetween times, all the while getting the benefit of Anna’s expert knowledge and guidance.

Travelling through the site

Entering the site from the main road leading into the nearby town of Mallawi you immediately know you have arrived somewhere. Heading south along a newly tarmacked road, the fields and, beyond, the river are on your right; the desert is to your left, the cliffs beyond getting further away as the great crescent-shaped desert plain opens out towards the east. The arrangement seems almost too good to be truly natural. You can see exactly why Akhenaten chose this new place to be his capital, you just wonder why no-one had had the idea before him…

One of the first buildings you see on the desert is the ancient house which was rebuilt by the Egypt Exploration Society’s team in the 1920s for use as a base during their excavations, most famously those led by John Pendlebury and co from the beginning of the 1930s.


Lina and Nick in front of the EES house of the 1920s and 30s


The EES house while it was still in use. Photograph taken during the 1933-4 season at the site, reproduced courtesy of the Egypt Exploration Society.

Very close by is the North Riverside Palace which may well have been the main residence of the royal family in Akhenaten’s time. From here, after a while, the new road comes to coincide with the ancient royal road. As we drove, Anna, let us know when we had reached the Central City, where Akhenaten built his Great Palace, the Great and Small Aten Temples and various administrative buildings, the ruins of which lie all around. Remembering undergraduate lectures I asked if we were about to see the bridge across the street which some have speculated may have included a ‘window of appearance’ for the royal couple to present themselves to their people – just at the moment when we passed that exact spot. Being somewhere familiar without ever having been there before, it’s like meeting someone famous…

The ruins sit in and around clusters of modern houses, cultivated land, a cemetery – all the elements you would expect of any settled area, and all of which are expanding rapidly in an easterly direction across the desert, eating into, and destroying, the remains of the ancient city. It’s sad from an archaeological perspective, but people need houses to live in, fields on which to grow their crops, and somewhere to bury their dead.


It was such a privilege to be able to film in these beautiful fields with the generous permission of the locals who, unfussed, carried on with their work around us

People and their stories

Amarna is all about people – ancient and modern – and their stories. The site helps us to tell the tale of Akhenaten and Nefertiti, but the current Amarna Project has focused more on the unrivalled opportunity it presents to study a fully-fledged, purpose-built city at a very precise moment in time: Akhetaten came into being in just a few years, according to Akhenaten’s very deliberate plan; and it was abandoned again almost as quickly after the end of his reign, as part of the transition back to the old ways. Crucially, the desert plain on which the city was built was never reoccupied to anything like the same extent, and the remains of the city simply lay there largely undisturbed beneath a thin layer of drift sand for a few thousand years until explorers and scholars began to take an interest in the beginning of the 19th century. Along with literally thousands of buildings and material objects the city also provides the opportunity to study the people who built the whole thing, and made it work.


Lina and Nick capture Anna’s arrival at the Workmen’s Village where the craftsmen who cut the elite tombs at Amarna lived

For many years, although the richly decorated rock-cut tombs of the Amarna elite were well known, the cemeteries of the ordinary people lay undiscovered. This changed in recent years with the discovery of what have become known as the south and north cemeteries.


Anna explains a little of what we can learn of the ordinary people of Amarna at the North Cemetery

Anna was with the crew and me in part to tell the story of the excavation of these crucially important burial grounds which began in 2006. During a first visit to the north cemetery for a reccy, she told us how privileged she felt to have the opportunity to excavate the graves of the people of Akhetaten. The very human connection she feels with the ancients was clear, and it now seems obvious having spoken to Anna just how incredible it is to be able to get to know something of these people’s lives, and how each came to an end, often at very young ages, perhaps after some suffering from illness or over-work, from the careful recording and interpretation of their graves and remains.

Thinking about the people – who, though far removed from us in terms of time, geography, beliefs etc., were nonetheless people just as we are – set me thinking about the city in quite a different way, made it feel a little closer, a little more alive. It’s difficult not to see a connection between this and the friendly relations Anna has with so many of the people, villagers, dig-house staff, antiquities inspectors, police, and guardians who live and work at Amarna now.

Amarna under threat

Some many lives intertwined… People, ancient and modern, locals and foreigners… City, villages and landscape. It’s such a special place, one of Egypt’s great places, one of the world’s great places. And yet the archeological site is disappearing as the locals have no choice but to make use of it for their own needs. The local Ministry of Antiquities inspectorate and Amarna Project are desperately under-funded, despite the celebrity of Akhenaten and Nefertiti. A single fragment of a statue of the period was due to be sold at auction recently for $600,000; an entire season of excavation and conservation work costs a tiny fraction of that and yet the Project struggles to find the funds it needs, relying on small grants and crowd-funding. Listening to Anna, with all her knowledge expertise, energy and passion, and seeing the excellent relations she has with friends and colleagues all around her, one can be hopeful that in future the ancient city will be preserved in its (still, largely) unspoilt desert landscape, and that the modern inhabitants will be able to able to live good lives in and around it without threatening that. But it’s by no means assured.


Satellite image of the Central City at Amarna (click here to view the area in Google Maps). The massive rectangular enclosure of the Great Aten temple has recently been built over by the buildings of a modern cemetery (small rectangular shapes towards the top of the image). The dark green cultivated areas at its north-eastern corner demonstrate the extent to which the desert can be reclaimed for agriculture, threatening to envelope the temple completely.

I wanted to write something to share my excitement at waking up to these stories – of the ancient people, their modern counterparts, and the incredible work (Project Director) Professor Barry Kemp, Anna and their colleagues are doing – but also to say something about the urgent need for us not to be complacent about this wonderful place. Please read more about the site and the Project (here), and please consider supporting it if you can (here).

A new role… with the Robert Anderson Research Charitable Trust

So, I have new role… I am delighted to announce that I have been appointed Director of the Robert Anderson Research Charitable Trust (RARCT) with effect from March 2017. Up to that time I will be learning the ropes as ‘Director designate’.

The Trustees’ announcement is here.

The Trust is a wonderful organisation whose work I have admired for some time. Its purpose is ‘to offer postgraduate students and visiting academic staff accommodation and financial support for short periods of intensive research in London’. Since its establishment in 1989 it has brought dozens of students and scholars, mostly from the Middle East and Eastern Europe, under its wing in London, providing them with the opportunity to make use of specialist libraries and the Trust’s network of academic contacts to further their studies. Many of its visitors have been archaeologists from Egypt, reflecting the founder’s interests, and indeed its work provided some of the inspiration for the Egypt Exploration Society’s programme of scholarships, which I helped to establish in recent years.


Robert Anderson and me in his kitchen, March 2015

The Trust’s founder, Dr Robert Anderson, was an extraordinary man, of wide-ranging interests, and many and varied talents. He was an Egyptologist and also a musician, equally at ease whether reading a hieroglyphic inscription or conducting an orchestra. Robert was also a friend of mine and a great source of inspiration and encouragement to me in my work. When he died last year, aged 88, but still very actively involved in the work of his Trust, tributes poured in from his many friends, colleagues and students around the world. My own was published in Egyptian Archaeology earlier this year (and is reproduced here courtesy of the Egypt Exploration Society). He left behind a rich legacy in the books, articles and other works he wrote, in the many students whose lives were enriched by his teaching, and of course in the Trust.


My tribute to Robert in Egyptian Archaeology

I’m really excited to have been given this opportunity. The Trust’s work is rooted in values which one could be forgiven for thinking are becoming lost in today’s world: the exchange of ideas between people of different nationalities and cultures, particularly those coming from some of the most troubled parts of the world; an emphasis on knowledge, scholarship and expertise, particularly in the arts and humanities; and the provision of accommodation in parts of London that are increasingly reserved only for the very wealthiest in society.

In these difficult times, the value of this work seems likely only to increase. I can’t wait to get started and look forward to sharing more of the Trust and its work with you as we go along.

Leaving the EES

After more than fifteen wonderful years working for the Egypt Exploration Society, as Director for the last four-and–a-half, I have decided to step down with effect from October this year. My last official engagement will be the Annual General Meeting on 15 October.

QUS15 Chris visits Quesna 2-4-15 (8) ED ED

I’m off! (Thanks to Geoffrey Tassie for the photo).

The Society has changed a great deal in the last few years, and I like to think I will be leaving it in good shape. More importantly though, I will be leaving it in the very capable hands of the Trustees and staff and, of course, of my successor, who will be appointed in the next few weeks.

This has been a big decision for me, one I have arrived at after a great deal of thinking over the course of several months. But it is the right one for lots of reasons.

A new challenge

I was appointed to lead the Society on a certain journey because I had the skills required. That journey is now complete, and it is time for the Society to embark on a new phase.

The EES would never have existed without the passion and enthusiasm of its founders, and their ability to inspire the same feelings in others. Its achievements are the result of the commitment of its archaeologists, staff, supporters and others. In the same way, the EES needs a Director who is bursting with ideas and energy. That was how I felt a few years ago when I began the job, but it’s impossible to sustain that level of energy forever, and it’s time for a new challenge.

That challenge is ready and waiting in fact. I’ll be leaving the EES to focus on the various pieces of work (a book or two, more media work etc.) and organizations (including the International Association of Egyptologists) to which I have committed in recent years but which, while they are complementary to my EES role, I have been unable to pursue to the extent that I would like. The challenge will be to tackle a few of these projects as a freelancer while exploring a few new possibilities as well.

The next EES

As I mentioned above, the EES is about to embark on the next phase of its history. My role as Director was to create the busy, dynamic, modern and eminently supportable organisation we all wanted the EES to be. In the last few years my colleagues and I have:

  • Overhauled the way we support fieldwork in Egypt
  • Modernised our publications and communications, especially online
  • Dramatically improved out activities in Egypt and support for Egyptian colleagues
  • Raised awareness of the Society and its work through the media and online
  • Professionalised our research facilities – the archive and library in particular
  • Professionalised our systems and processes and improved efficiency

Just about all of this has been undertaken with a view to making the Society more supportable and/or financially sustainable. However the financial situation remains very challenging, and having explored all the possibilities we had wanted to explore, and fixed a number of problems behind the scenes, it is now time for us to look at alternative means of ensuring the Society can continue to deliver its mission “to explore ancient Egyptian sites and monuments, to create a lasting record of the remains, to generate enthusiasm for, and increase knowledge and understanding of, Egypt’s past and to raise awareness of the importance of protecting its heritage.”

A fond farewell

I was 22 years old when I became Librarian and Membership Secretary at the EES, just three months after finishing my Master’s degree in Egyptology at the University of Birmingham. It was my first and so far only real job. Doughty Mews has been a home of sorts for almost half my life since then. It’s been a wonderful experience, richly rewarding in far more ways than I could ever have imagined. I arrived as an aspiring Egyptologist and leave as an experienced charity CEO. I have enormous affection for the Society and would not be leaving if I did not think that it had a very bright future ahead of it. I will of course continue to be a loyal subscriber and have every confidence that I will be able to enjoy my membership just as much as I did when I was a student. Knowing the Society’s supporters as well as I do, I am sure they will all want to continue supporting the organisation through the transition to the next phase. Lastly, I’d like to thank those supporters. Although I have thoroughly enjoyed my work for the EES I cannot pretend that every single day has been a walk in the park… There have been frustrations, disappointments and difficult characters to deal with, but these things have always been outweighed by a near-constant stream of smiles, messages of support and positive comments about the work the Society is doing. The EES would not exist without its supporters and it has been an absolute privilege to work for an organisation which inspires people around the world to offer that support. It keeps us going, and propels us forward, spiritually, emotionally, and financially(!). Thank you.

The Daleks Visit Ancient Egypt (confessions of an Egyptologist, pedant and Dr Who fan)

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A little while ago, Dr Who writer, information goldmine, and pal, Simon Guerrier, sent an unusual question to mission control at the EES: when did the Daleks’ visit to ancient Egypt in the epic story The Daleks’ Masterplan take place? There is no official line but I thought I could give Simon a view, so I set about watching the one episode in question, and made a few notes. I had suspected the designs would be too bad for it to have been clear what dateable sources they were based on, but in fact they were pretty good. It’s just unfortunate that the sources used range across a couple of millennia of Egyptian history, leaving the Egyptologist shouting ‘the Egyptians never…!’ and ‘anachronism!’ at the TV a few times… Still I managed to give Simon a date and thought the evidence I used to make my case might be of interest.

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As the episode opens, the viewer finds themselves inside the stereotypical, richly decorated Egyptian-style interior. The painted walls are inspired by the Tomb of Nefertari (b. 1291 d. 1256 BC, so says Wikipedia), reign of Ramesses II, early 19th Dynasty, as in this photo of the real thing:

Tomb_of_Queen_Nefertari   Image from here.

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The room is cluttered with treasures, as in the tomb of Tutankhamun (reigned 1332-1323 BC, late 18th Dynasty) when it was first discovered. The pair of ears(?) in this shot recalls the glorious reclining Anubis buried with the boy king.


Image (copyright, The Griffith Institute, Oxford and gloriously reconstructed in colour by Dynamichrome) taken from here.

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The inscription on the pillar here appears to have been neatly done but is difficult to read. Its appearance is that of beaten gold, echoing more of Tutankhamun’s treasures especially the massive golden shrines perhaps. I can’t think of any evidence of pillars this thin having been encased in beaten gold however…



Image from here.

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The supposed mummy here is in fact the story’s bad guy, the Meddling Monk. The humour in our heroes’ realisation that they are not about to be menaced by the living dead after all, is intentional, but the flimsy metallic appearance of the coffin presumably isn’t. The design on the outside isn’t bad, however, and recalls coffins characteristic of the Middle Kingdom (2000-1700 BC), such as this one now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.


Image from here.

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I got quite excited at this point because of the very visible horizontal cartouche in the background. The signs seem good which is unusual for a TV / film set but I can’t quite make sense of them. I think they are a slightly fudged version of Nefertari’s cartouche, and therefore in keeping with the decoration visible elsewhere here. The beginning of the vertical cartouche with the yellow (presumably) background visible beneath, confirms it.

Images from here and here.

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Slightly later in the episode we find ourselves outdoors, apparently amongst a group of monumental stone buildings. The relief on the wall to the right (although it ought to be on the inside of the building not the outside) is reminiscent of the classic Old Kingdom (2686-2181 BC) scene of the deceased seated, typically, before a table piled high with offerings, like this one from the tomb of Niankhkhnum and Khnumhotep at Saqqara:


Image from here.

The row of cobras along the top of the building in the background recalls the south tomb in the Step Pyramid enclosure (3rd Dyn, 2650 – 2575 BC):

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Photo my own (at last!).

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The style of the wigs here recalls an Old Kingdom (2686-2613 BC) type, as depicted in this famous statue from Saqqara:

185735135 Image from here.

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An aerial shot seems to confirm that we are at a pyramid site. One very large pyramid with two smaller ones visible suggests this is probably intended to be Giza but the entrance is ‘wrong’, being of a kind only found later in much smaller tombs e.g. at Deir El Medina (19th and 20th Dynasties, 1292-1077 BC), like this one:

pyramid tombs

Image from here.

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This relief seems well done and has the feel of the Late Period (Dynasties 26 to 30, 672-332 BC) – but I’m struggling to find a clear parallel (can anyone help?). This kind of scene would normally, I think, be found on smaller scale, inscribed on e.g. a naos or other kind of shrine. The inscriptions, though generally well done, do not obviously give anything away.

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The buildings below and to the right of the pyramid in this shot strongly recall the reconstructed chapel buildings in the Step Pyramid enclosure (3rd Dynasty, 2686–2613 BC):

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Photo my own.

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Towards the end of the episode we return to the location of the opening scenes. As the Doctor approaches the TARDIS (at right) he passes a wooden cabinet(?) with a metallic image of pharaoh, presumably intended to look like gold. Although it looks like no genuine artefact I know of, the iconography is obviously that of Tutankhamun, as this coffinette of his shows:

5_2_s_Exhibits_PastExhibits_Tut_Cofinette.jpg   Image from here.

One final bit of something to go on occurs in dialogue, at approx. 10.00: “…the same mortals that build war machines that throw fire. When Hyksos returns, you’ll see the end of your.. gods.” The Hyksos were a race of foreigners who settled in Egypt during the Second Intermediate Period (1650-1550 BC) and came to rule at least the Delta and northern Nile Valley if not the entire country. They introduced horses and chariotry and other military tech which may be where the ref to ‘war machines’ comes from. ‘Hyksos’ in the story seems to refer to one individual however; the words ‘hyksos’ derives from the ancient Egyptian ‘heka khasut’ meaning ‘ruler of foreign lands’ and it may just be that this was the name given to this particular individual by the Egyptians in the story, but in that case there may be no connection with the Second Intermediate Period group. In any case the reference should probably be disregarded as a dating criterion.

So, in conclusion…

There’s quite a clash of sources from different periods. The opening scenes appear to take place inside a New Kingdom tomb, but also feature a Middle Kingdom coffin (it could have been re-used…). The exterior shots show the episode to have taken place at a pyramid site, the pyramids probably being of the Old Kingdom; these scenes exhibit mostly influences from that period – 3rd through 6th Dynasties (2686-2181 BC) – as you’d expect for a pyramid site, but also one or two things that seem much later. Such sites were in use until much later periods so it could be that the episode takes place at a site dominated by Old Kingdom architecture but in a much later phase of its history. Having said that, the Old Kingdom stuff all seems in pretty good nick, so I prefer to think of it as having been set at that time, as most of the evidence suggests, and just to accept that the other stuff is anachronistic and the mistake of the BBC set designers… Sooo, I gave Simon a date of 2,300 BC – late enough in the period for considerable numbers of smaller, non-royal mastaba tombs to have sprung up around the pyramids, but not at the very end of the period when such sites were falling out of use. Does that seem fair? Do let me know what you think 🙂

By the way, Simon was asking as part of some research for a forthcoming book which I’m really looking forward to seeing: Whographica by Simon Guerrier, Steve O’Brien and Ben Morris will be published in September (2016) by BBC Books.


Communicating Egyptology in the Internet Age Part 1: fieldwork and social networks

If there is anyone out there who has read any of the posts to this blog, or been a follower of my tweets etc. they will probably be aware that I have a particular interest in the way archaeology and Egyptology are communicated. I’ve probably said this before but information and communication are the very essences of archaeology and Egyptology. Aside from the preservation of the physical remains – the curation of objects in museums or the conservation and protection of sites – just about everything else, from the moment the spade goes into the ground, is about gathering information, then documenting, interpreting and communicating it.

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Archaeologist Günter Dreyer explains the German excavations at Umm El-Qaab, Abydos to an audience of EES members

Communication can take many forms. There are many different media, all suited to different purposes. The most familiar to academics – as both creators and consumers – would probably include scholarly articles and monographs, and lectures. The wider public, meanwhile are probably more familiar with television and radio programmes, magazine and newspaper articles, exhibitions, and, these days, the internet and social media. Archaeologists and Egyptologists are the gatherers, interpreters and communicators of the information. Readers, viewers, listeners, surfers of the net are the consumers.

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The wider public are far more likely to consume their Egyptology through mass media such as television or social networks than the scholarly articles most specialists are more familiar with producing

One of the essences of the EES’ work is to provide a bridge between scholars and the wider public. This has led us, in recent years in particular, to try to embrace as wide a range of these media as possible. I have dabbled in a number of them myself. While our primary means of communication, particularly when it comes to the research the Society itself supports, remain lectures and scholarly print publications, we have made extensive use of online, particularly social, media, and communicating this way is now firmly embedded within the activities of the staff team.

A different way of thinking

Years ago, when I first started wondering how we (EES) could improve our online presence, I had initially thought that what we need was a flashier website, perhaps one of those blogs I’d heard about, and an electronic newsletter. The big institutions had that kind of thing, and we should too, I thought. Something I hadn’t realized immediately, but that quickly became apparent, was that we would need to have a think, not just about the means of conveying the messages, but what messages we would need to have in the first place. Initially, I found it very difficult to think about what ‘news’ we might have for people. There were two reasons for this: First, up that point, our ‘news’ had been generated according to a print schedule. Printing and mailing journals, magazines, leaflets etc. is expensive so we didn’t do it very often and we weren’t therefore reporting anything more regularly than twice a year, and in between times we didn’t really think about it at all. Second, most of our news focused on our fieldwork, and other developments elsewhere in professional Egyptology – this is what the Journal, the magazine and our lecture series were for after all. And historically, the work of the office staff had always been kept in the background. Initially, I thought, ‘sh*t, we in the office don’t do anything…’ but then I began to realize that that wasn’t true, and there was quite a lot going on in the office which I thought might be of interest to people, but which we didn’t really talk about.

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A page of EES ‘news’ from 2009 reporting on the first EES / MSA Delta Workshop

Most obviously, it seemed to me that the Society’s archive was an unexploited treasure trove of interesting material and activity, with the added benefit that it was on hand for staff and much easier for our members to visit than our fieldwork projects. But more generally, I realized that we were doing things that might be of interest. In the first few months after establishing a new ‘news page’ for our website we had reported on the project to gather new information and information images for a new edition of Who Was Who in Egyptology, the award of a medal for the Society’s participation in the UNESCO rescue campaign in Nubia, the gathering in Cairo of specialists for the first EES/MSA Delta workshop and a members’ trip to the Gilf Kebir.

Busier, more active, more personable

All of this, I like to think, showed the Society to be much busier and active than previously; it showed that we were doing much more work than perhaps anyone would have realized previously. No bad thing. Another important aspect of this, I think, is transparency. One of the defining aspects of the internet revolution has been in the voice we use to communicate. It’s much less formal than it used to be, much more personal and personable, more human, friendly, even. This has brought with it a shift away from the passive voice, of the faceless institution – ‘it has been agreed…’ etc. – to the active first person plural ‘we have agreed’, and eventually ‘I’ as in ‘I believe…’ etc. I talked about this in my first blog post as EES Director.

Social networks and blogging demand this. There are of course accounts set up for institutions – we at the EES have them – but individual voices are often very evident, and many institutional accounts are often explicit in saying exactly which individuals are responsible for posting to them. I think this is all a very good thing. I sense that audiences want to get to know the people doing the work they read about. The EES is an organisation of people, and we have worked hard to make sure those people’s faces and voices are familiar to our audience. It helps us to engender a spirit of participation, involvement, and that is very important.

And now for the archaeologists…

As I mentioned above, one of the challenges for us is in trying to convey the archaeological work the Society supports to the wider public. As well as creating the means for those of us at Doughty Mews to communicate via social media and encouraging the staff team to think constantly about which our activities are newsworthy, I have also tried to extend this practice to the our teams in the field. We’ve had a lot of success with this but there’s still room for improvement perhaps.

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The home of the Delta Survey’s online dig diary maintained by Pat Spencer 

The Society provides financial and other assistance to almost twenty projects in Egypt now. We can only do that thanks the generous support of our members,* most of whom are ordinary members of the public with an interest in ancient Egypt. We depend on them for almost all the funding we have to keep the operation going, and it is therefore vital that we are able to show them what we are able to do with that money in order to keep the subscriptions and donations coming. It’s a long time ago now that the Society’s Trustees accepted that we couldn’t afford not to have a presence on social media, given the number of people using Facebook, Twitter and the rest (one billion unique users in a single day on Facebook recently…). The pact between the Society and its archaeologists which requires that regular scientific reports are submitted for publication if funding is to continue, is also long established. I wonder how long it will be before we are no longer able to accept that any one of our teams ‘does not do social networks’.

Don’t just do Facebook and Twitter, do it well

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The landscape at Quesna has become very familiar thanks to the numerous photos Jo Rowland has posted to her Minufiyeh Survey page

Most of the Society’s longer established teams do now have a presence on social media, most obviously the series of ‘blogs’ we have set up using Tumblr as a platform, although they are more like ‘dig diaries’ than blogs – which seem to me more for personal views and opinions – at the moment. These have been great: regular photographs have given us all an idea of the setting for and the people involved in the work. I feel I really know the, previously unfamiliar, Delta sites that Jo Rowland or Pat and Jeff Spencer have been working in over the years as a result. They also convey a sense of the work in progress, and of the way information is gathered and a picture of an ancient site, people, or ways of life is built up over the course of a season, in a way that an end-of-season report cannot. Again this is about a sense of involvement. Many of our members have told us that they would have liked to have been archaeologists themselves; there’s no possibility for them to work on an archaeological site in Egypt – a dream for so many people of course – but being able to support the work of our teams, and to feel that sense of involvement, is the next best thing.

A vision for the next few years / the perfect online excavation?

So, I think we’ve made great strides. But, not all of our teams’ are allowing us this insight into their activities yet, and it’s very interesting to see how some are doing certain things very well, while others have different strengths. Here’s my tuppence worth on the things I think make up the perfect field project online:


Our subject and photography go together perfectly. It’s no coincidence that Egypt was the setting for one of the first great photographic expeditions, that of Francis Frith in 1856; the light in the country is fabulous, the monuments and artistic canons are bold and exotic (to the western mind at least), and in any case a photograph conveys so much more than a description or even a drawing can. In fact they are often all that’s needed – just a photo and a short caption.

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We’ve been asking the online community to send us the photos that they think best represent the EES in the 21st century lately, using the hash-tag #MyEESPic. More info here.

Short form (Twitter, Instagram)

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An image and a simple caption, in less than 140 characters, can be a very effective way of engaging an audience

Twitter and Instagram are perfect for this kind of thing. Twitter imposes limits on the number of characters available (140) so you have to be very concise in what you say; this is a constraint but it can also be useful – it helps focus the mind on what you really need to say, and this also makes posting quick and easy. And there’s no limit to the number of posts you can upload of course, if you have a lot more to say. The British Museum’s Amara West team (including project director, Neal Spencer) has made excellent use of photos as a quick and easy way to show what they’re doing. Both Twitter and Instagram offer huge potential audiences, of people who want to consume content of exactly this kind: quick, easy and very visual. These are people who may simply not want to read longer pieces, who, in other words, would be lost to us if we weren’t embracing these media.


The other thing that Twitter in particular does very well is to provide ‘headlines’ or ‘teasers’ leading to further information through hyperlinks. Twitter is a brilliantly effective way of sifting quickly through the information-overload for the things you want to learn more about, a bit like flicking quickly through the entire newspaper then turning back to spend more time on the stories you really want to read. I would suggest that those archaeologists who simply don’t want to write in 140-character text-speak, should nonetheless be using Twitter to post links to their longer pieces, because for many people Twitter is the best, if not the only, source of information about such things. Some Twitter accounts are nothing but aggregators and redistributors of content from elsewhere. Some of the best for our subject are ‘Talking Pyramids‘ and @SusanLlewellyn (an EES Trustee!).


There are multiple social networks of course and some might be put off by the need to keep them all up-to-date. The simple way around this is simply to have your accounts set up so that they automatically post content to all your pages. I have accumulated 2,000 followers on my professional (as opposed to my separate, personal) Facebook page in the last 8 months or so, and yet I barely ever post anything directly to it – almost everything I do is posted to Twitter and automatically also appears on Facebook.

A sense of the day to day

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Pat Spencer’s post on the Delta Survey team kit

Some of my favourite archaeological blogs are those that give you a sense not just of the subject matter but of the process; not just the archaeological material, but the people uncovering it and how they went about it, and also what it’s like to work on an excavation in Egypt. I was really struck the first few times I joined such projects that the experience was not just about the archaeology, but at least as much about where we lived, the food, the journey to work, the people we worked with, the Arabic words and phrases you pick up – none of which is available in the reports I had read up to that point (and which made up most of the EES’ output about its work until a few years ago). Most of our teams have got to grips with this very well now – recent favourite posts of mine include Pat Spencer’s on the Delta Survey team kit (which reminds me of the ‘what’s in your bag’ meme), Jo Rowland walking the dog in Shibin el-Kom, and the eating of cakes during the Theban Harbours and Waterscapes Survey Project.

Interestingly this is, I think, what so many people find so fascinating about the 1930s EES work at Amarna: the team found some wonderful things, connected with one of the most celebrated and popularly fascinating periods in history – the Amarna Period –  but we also know more about the team members and their daily lives thanks not only to a rich archive of archaeological documents, but Mary Chubb’s account, Nefertiti Lived Here, and the films that John Pendlebury and co made. They tapped into the same popular fascination with how things are done that has led the BBC to conclude its wonderful David Attenborough films about he natural world with ten-minute shorts about ‘the making of…’

…while not forgetting the archaeology itself

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While ‘life on the dig’ is important, the archaeology itself should not be forgotten

None of this means we should exclude the archaeology however, and this should remain the main theme. We at the EES have to be a bit careful here as the Egyptian Ministry of Antiquities requires that it be notified of new ‘discoveries’ before they are announced, however this generally means the more sensational finds of the kind that interest the media , not the every-day material. The best blogs are those that convey a sense of the story of the site unfolding. Pat Spencer’s account of the Delta Survey’s investigation of the temple at Tell Buweib is a good example. The Facebook page for the Amarna Project, and  iMalqata and Amara West blogs are excellent. Notably in both these last two cases, the blogs are authored by different team members from one post to the next, providing different perspectives and different voices, but very explicitly.

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Screen capture from the Amarna Project’s Facebook page showing a wedjat eye-ring recently discovered in the North Tombs Cemetery

Get involved – come to lectures, support or work etc.

I’d also like to see some of the EES’ blogs linking more to content elsewhere. As I said above most of them function diary-style, day-by-day accounts and all are inactive outside the field season. All field projects have a life outside the fieldwork however. I’d like to see more accounts also providing links to reports on previous seasons (Penny Wilson’s page on the work at Sais is very good for this) further reading, other complementary work, and opportunities for people to engage with the work such as notices about public lectures, and the occasional note encouraging readers to support the work would also be very worthwhile; again engendering that idea of involvement is very important, especially if it leads to an increase in financial support!

Last thoughts:

There is a skill to all this; I’m not suggesting that everyone will be good at it. This reminds me that around fifteen years ago when archaeologists were only just beginning to become aware of the internet and long before Facebook and Twitter were created, the Amarna Royal Tombs Project recruited a journalist, the much-missed Paul Sussman, specifically for the purposes of communicating with a public audience online. I think it’s a shame that this hasn’t been taken up by more archaeological projects since. In the same way that I think it’s a shame that John Pendlebury and his team’s efforts to capture life on excavation – which continue to fascinate us all over eighty years later – weren’t repeated. I think archaeology would be better off if these examples were followed!

If you’re not already an EES member, please consider helping to support our vital archaeological work by joining (see here) – we’d be delighted to welcome you!