What King Tut’s beard tells us about Egyptian politics
From the mishandling of artifacts to prosecution of restoration artists, this is not what Tahrir protesters had in mind
By Meagan Day
In August 2014, workers at Cairo’s Egyptian Museum were repairing the display case of King Tutankhamen’s 3,300 year old burial mask when they dislodged the pharaoh’s beard.
Panicked restoration artists tried to glue it back on, leaving a hideous crust of adhesive on the priceless artifact. German experts were able to reverse most of the damage, but eight museum officials are now scheduled to appear before a disciplinary tribunal on charges of negligence.
The saga of King Tut’s beard is not just a bizarre news story about a precious artifact — it’s also an indication of how badly things have gone in Egypt since President Hosni Mubarak was ousted in 2011 following massive protests in Cairo’s Tahrir Square.
Egypt has experienced a major disinvestment in its cultural institutions, and a reinvestment in its police and military apparatuses, over the last five years. Museum workers’ maiming of King Tut is a consequence of the former, while their prosecution is the result of the latter.
For over a decade, the whole of Egyptian national archaeology was under the thumb of one man. Zahi Hawass was a rockstar archaeologist — his wide-brimmed hat, rumpled button-downs and zeal for hidden treasure earned him the nickname “the Indiana Jones of Egypt.” Beloved by the international press, Hawass landed his own reality series on the History Channel and was named the National Geographic Society’s explorer-in-residence. He wrote best-selling books and gave lectures around the globe.
But many Egyptians saw Hawass as narcissistic and authoritarian, and some even suspected him of corruption. Allegations circulated that Hawass helped Westerners procure artifacts for their personal collections, and charged under-the-table entrance fees to ancient sites for his own profit.
Hawass was a crony of Mubarak’s, and when Mubarak was ousted Hawass was not far behind. He was one of several “mini-Mubaraks” who were shown the door by an optimistic mass movement seeking a different breed of public servant.
Egyptians hoped that Hawass’ replacement would be a qualified Egyptologist devoted to the public good rather than to personal gain. But as with many changes in Egypt after 2011, this one didn’t go as the protesters hoped.
Instead, the post-Mubarak administrations of Mohamed Morsi and Abdel Fattah el-Sisi failed to prioritize Egypt’s antiquities, letting professional standards at the Egyptian Museum decline as the level of employee training sank. Hawass may have been an egomaniac, but he probably would not have allowed his employees to slather super glue on King Tut’s face.
As tourism suffered after Mubarak’s ouster, the museum found itself without a qualified director and lacking in funds. It would need the state to help fill in the gaps.
But in 2013, the Egyptian economy tanked. Cultural institutions like the Egyptian Museum took a back seat as the 2013 civil unrest and military coup sucked up all energy, funds and attention. By 2015, the Ministry of Antiquities was operating with just 10% of the funds it had before the 2011 uprising.
No leadership, no money, no support from the state — such were the conditions under which the restoration of the 3,300-year-old world treasure was attempted. No wonder it was botched.
So if the Egyptian state is responsible for the mishandling of the museum that led to the King Tut catastrophe, why is it publicly punishing museum officials instead of quietly moving on? The decision to prosecute the inept restoration artists is in keeping with an alarming new trend under Sisi, who some feel is as authoritarian as Mubarak ever was — or worse.
Since taking office, Sisi has instituted a number of repressive policies centered around policing, prosecution and imprisonment, defending each by saying that tough punitive measures are necessary in order to avoid chaos. It’s no real surprise that the Sisi administration has chosen to make a spectacle out of the museum officials — putting people on trial for real or perceived missteps has been a part of Sisi’s strategy from the beginning.
The story of King Tut’s beard is a sad one, and not just because his chin sustained some permanent nicks. The chain of events shows us how little has actually improved in Egypt since the Tahrir protests in 2011. The protesters wanted to replace Hawass with someone more devoted to the people, and instead they got a near-total disinvestment in cultural institutions altogether. The protesters wanted to replace Mubarak with someone more democratic, and instead they got someone possibly more autocratic.
When they formed a human shield around the Egyptian Museum during the 2011 uprising, the Tahrir protesters were attempting to protect their cultural heritage and advocate for democracy at the same time. The King Tut debacle demonstrates that they’ve been let down on both counts.
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