sight baffling, given its obvious connection to Biblical archaeology. However, three important differences distinguished the two excavations. First, unlike the anonymous servants buried in the grim death pits, Tutankhamen was a named individual: an ancient yet curiously modern young man, revealed to the Western world at a time when the West had lost so many of its own young men. The art and fashions of his age â the Late Amarna Period â fitted neatly with the art and fashions of post-war Europe, allowing him to appear both glamorously remote and reassuringly familiar. Second, while Tutankhamen was by no means the first pharaoh to be discovered â Cairo Museum already had an entire gallery full of kings â he was the first to be discovered with a vast amount of gold. Treasure, and treasure-hunting, has a universal, timeless appeal that cuts across boundaries of age, race and gender, and it seems that it was Tutankhamenâs gold death mask, rather than his actual face, which so captured the public imagination. Finally, Carterâs excavation was conducted under an intense media scrutiny, which ensured that, even if they wished to, the public could not forget about ongoing events in the Valley of the Kings.
In many ways this fame has been a good thing. Tutankhamen, and the study of his life and times, have brought a great deal of pleasure to many, me included. His instantly recognisable brand has proved particularly valuable to the Egyptian economy. In January 2011 tourism accounted for 11 per cent of the Egyptian national income, with visits to the Cairo Museum (home of Tutankhamenâs grave goods) and the Valley of the Kings (modern Luxor: home of Tutankhamenâs tomb) an important part of all itineraries. 3 It is therefore an unfortunate paradox that Tutankhamenâs very popularity threatens to destroy his legacy. The tourists who make their way to the Valley of the Kings disembark from vibrating, polluting coaches to breathe and perspire in his cramped tomb, causing incalculable damage to the fragile decorated walls. The negative effects of tourism â the Valleyâs own curse of Tutankhamen â are an ongoing and very serious problem for the Egyptian Antiquities Service (EAS), the government agency with responsibility for the care and protection of Egyptâs ancient monuments. 4 In response, and as a way of balancing the needs of the visitors with the needs of the conservators, the EAS has recently announced ambitious plans to build a full-sized replica of Tutankhamenâs tomb in a nearby valley. This false tomb will allow visitors an âauthenticâ experience while preserving the genuine tomb.
It is sad, but perhaps predictable, that his celebrity status has resulted in some Egyptologists drawing away from Tutankhamen lest they be perceived as pandering to, exploiting or even (perish the thought) enjoying popular taste. Confessing an interest in Tutankhamen is, for a few, the equivalent to confessing a preference for television soaps over Shakespeare or musical theatre over opera, while writing about Tutankhamen may be interpreted as a venal attempt to make money, which, in the world of academia, has not always been seen as a good thing. This elitism is, however, rare. Many others have simply dismissed Tutankhamen as insignificant: a short-lived boy, weak, manipulated and unworthy of any detailed study.
He is a âsensitive youth, a Hamlet totally unequal to the crushing responsibilities he was called upon to bearâ; a âyouthful nonentityâ; a king who simply does not deserve to serve as the representative of the Dynastic Age. 5 This criticism is in part true. His was a short reign that started at a young age; much of what he accomplished must have been done under the guidance of others. However, while Tutankhamenâs decade is brief when compared with the thirty-eight-year (prosperous but, perhaps, slightly dull) reign of Amenhotep III, it compares