Meskell, Practice and Policy of Archaeology in Egypt, 2000

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The Practice and Politics of Archaeologyin Egypt

LYNN MESKELLa

Department of Anthropology, Columbia University, New York,New York 10027, USA

ABSTRACT: Archaeologists working in Egypt have rarely considered the lo-

cal/global ramifications and responsibilities of their field practices: many

continue to operate under what might be termed the residual effects of co-

lonialism. Taking an explicitly postcolonial stance I argue that there is

much more at stake than the intellectual enterprise. This paper outlinesthe ways in which scholars could undertake a more engaged archaeology

and how we might more closely be involved with the people and pasts of

modern Egypt. The connected tensions of tourism and terrorism are fore-

grounded, demonstrating that heritage issues are salient to both spheres.

Finally, I explore the nations relationship to its pharaonic past over the

past few centuries and include some contemporary articulations and rep-

resentations.

KEYWORDS: Egyptian archaeology; Colonialist views of Egypt; Orien-

talism; Tourism; Postcolonial theory; Terrorism; Heritage industry

In the eighteenth century, a new breed of traveller

began to flock into Cairo, Europeans withscholarly and antiquarian interests, for whomMasr was merely the picturesque but largelyincidental location of an older, and far more

important landscapeOver the same period thatEgypt was gaining a new strategic importancewithin the disposition of empires, she was also

gradually evolving into a new continent of richesfor the Western scholarly and artistic imagination.

AMITAV GHOSH,INAN ANTIQUELAND

This paper attempts to combine several diverse strands of argumentation sur-rounding the political context of archaeology in Egypt. First, I endeavor tosituate Western intervention in Egypt from a postcolonial position. This puts

in the foreground the colonial practices of taxonomizing and controlling both

aAddress for correspondence: Department of Anthropology, Columbia University, 1200Amsterdam Avenue, New York, New York 10027. Voice: 212-854-7465; fax: 212-854-7347.

[email protected]


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147MESKELL: ARCHAEOLOGY IN EGYPT

present and past through scientific discourses such as cartography, geogra-

phy, and archaeology. The discussion oscillates between narratives of the co-lonial past and accounts of current field practices. I also suggest a number ofdisciplinary options which might remedy the situation in terms of the ethicsand responsibilities for foreign field projects. Linked to this point is my sug-gestion that archaeologists should be more mindful of local communities andthe modern context of their work. By extension, those that tour Egypt havebeen largely disinterested in the local sphere and its contemporary ramifica-tions. I assert that the two situations are interwoven. Clearly, people chooseto tour ancient Egypt rather than its modern, living counterpart, and theirdesires for an untainted living museum have real effects at both national andlocal levels. Tied to tourism and foreign interaction is the increase in terror-ism over the last decade. Here I suggest that touring ancient Egypt and theconstitution of the heritage industry in Egypt are factors indelibly inter-

twined with these acts of violence. As a rule, archaeologists working in Egypthave been reluctant to comment or be drawn into political discussion. Lastly,I argue against the traditional idea that modern Egypt has little connection toits pharaonic history. Drawing on architecture, monuments, artistic traditions,textbooks, and national symbolism, I suggest there has been a fluid relation-ship with the pharaonic past over the last 100 years. If this connectivity iserased or undermined, we risk privileging the ancient past and ignoringEgypts more recent heritage. By divorcing Egypts history from its peoplewe might make our work as archaeologists (or visitors) less problematic andentangled, but we also commit symbolic violence and reinvigorate the rem-nants of a colonial regime.

EGYPT IN POSTCOLONIAL PERSPECTIVE

Taking a radical stance, I argue here that archaeological practice in Egyptis indelibly entangled in the types of hegemonic practices that once charac-terized colonialism in the Middle East and that now contribute to the tensionsof postcoloniality. My own background brings this into sharp relief. I was ini-tially trained in Australia, in a political climate where indigenous people hada clear voice in the archaeological endeavor and where white practitionersthemselves were constantly under scrutiny. After further training in EnglandI undertook fieldwork in Egypt and saw a very different suite of practices anda general lack of engagement at the local level, a situation that still typifiesthe discipline of Egyptian archaeology. By default, archaeologists working inEgypt generally assume that their priorities for research should be placed in

the foreground and that the considerations of local people are secondary. Of-ten the latter have been considered a hindrance to archaeologys project: asentiment sometimes reinforced by certain sectors of the Egyptian govern-ment. Archaeology is closely linked to tourism, which offers substantial eco-


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148 ANNALS NEW YORK ACADEMY OF SCIENCES

nomic gains for a developing country. The economic gains tend to remain

largely in the hands of Western companies operating within the new globalarena, rendering suspect the notion that ordinary Egyptians benefit fromlarge-scale tourist expenditures, despite the deployment of governmental im-peratives to facilitate tourism. It similarly results in the ascendancy of foreigndesires for commodification and leisure over local concerns and standards ofliving. The case study of the relocation of the community at Gurna is the mostsalient instance of this imbalance of power (see Mitchell 2000). Yet these is-sues are seldom discussed within the discipline because of a lack of politicalengagement or an unwillingness to challenge government policy. Archaeolo-gists, too, have a stakealbeit a purely academic onein directing attentiontowards monuments rather than people. The tangential matters of agriculturalencroachment, site management, and protection are points raised by moreconcerned archaeologists, but it is the ancient material remains that are priv-ileged over living communities. Scholars are reticent to discuss the interrelat-ed domains of tourism, the heritage industry, and multi-layered nationalistobjectives within Egypt. How did we arrive at this point? Clearly the long his-tory of foreign intervention in Egypt has made the country an archaeologistsparadise, a territory all our own, steeped in a history of Western looting andexcavation. As such, archaeology was already enmeshed in colonialist ideol-ogies, and therefore it has proven easier for practitioners to continue their op-erations in the time-honored ways. Colonial constructs are not simplysituated in a past. As I argue, this substrate of residual colonial practice is be-ing worked against in the present: it is both nostalgically re-worked and in-ventively adapted.

Many archaeologists might seem unaware or, worse, unconcerned with the

ethical dilemmas underscored here. Ameliorating our predicament will entailsacrifices and changes for foreign fieldworkers that threaten to disrupt a longand fruitful tradition of practices. Bringing about change will mean a substan-tial revisioning of the archaeological project, and the ways in which individ-uals operate in the field. Large archaeological expeditions will have to divertfunds and energy into contributing something at the local level, other thanpaying village workmen and buying supplies. Along with these initiativescomes the dissemination of archaeological findings and the inclusion ofsmaller voicesallowing for the impact of heteroglossia on an atheoreticaland authoritarian field like Egyptian archaeology. Archaeologists will have toconsider the place of local museums, heritage centers, and educational facil-ities. This process would take place at the local level, where foreign institu-tions contribute to the initial construction of museums and local authorities

administer and benefit from their operation. People can learn to appreciatethe inherent values of the past without necessarily having to identify withthem in any personalized way, thus countering the arguments about Islamici-zation made by archaeologists. Local people, school groups, visitors, and


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tourists would all be involved. Andreas Huyssen coined the term musealiza-

tion to describe the current obsession with the heritage industry and the cul-ture of the museum. In the latter half of this century there has been aproliferation of museums and heritage sites around the globe. In an ironicturn Huyssen quips that we might be running out of the past due to our avidconsumption of history. We have a long way to go in Egypt since there is adearth of museums and heritage sites to celebrate the longue dure of itsmulti-stranded histories. Here I suggest we have to engage in dialogue withthose concerned with developments in social geography and heritage studiesto fully understand the processes of tourism, cultural exploitation, and sym-bolic violence that surround the promotion of an archaeological past. Priori-tizing the past in the present has serious and often violent consequences forthose who happen to dwell among the ancients.

At the heart of these programmatic statements is the fundamental questionI keep returning to: how did we inherit such a situation? Younger archaeolo-gists are inculcated with the belief that Egyptians today are divorced frompharaonic civilization and that this occurred through the process of Islamici-zation. These severed ties with antiquity underscore all narratives about acontemporary lack of interest in the past and result in an unwillingness to en-gage in the dialogue. It is the argument that excuses us from the conversationaltogether and yet it is usually unsubstantiated or left unchecked. At the endof this paper I argue against the persistent idea that the Egyptians themselvesare not interested in their pastthat this is something reserved for Westerninterpreters. As part of this assertion I mean to imply that we, as Western ar-chaeologists, have been remiss in our responsibilities to the people of Egypt,that we have not conveyed our findings nor instigated education and outreach

programs nor have we aided in the construction of local museums. In a sensethe colonialist modes of operation have had residual effects upon the practiceof archaeology in Egypt. Only in a postcolonial climate can we begin to seethis as yet another appropriation of the pastthe past as a resource and asource of knowledgewhich excludes the site of production itself.

It is crucial to recenter the colonial entanglements that marked the start ofa professionalized Egyptian archaeology (see also Reid 1985). Colonialismentails the establishment and maintenance of domination over a separategroup of people, who are viewed as subordinate, and over their territories,which are presumed to be available for exploitation (Jacobs 1996:16). AsNick Dirks has argued (1992:6):

colonialism provided a theatre for the Enlightenment project, that grand labo-ratory that linked discovery and reasoncolonial expansion both necessitated

and facilitated the active exercise of the scientific imagination. It was throughdiscoverythe siting, surveying, mapping, naming, and ultimately possessingof new regions that science itself could open new territories of conquest: car-tography, geography, botany and anthropology were all colonial enterprises.


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We should see archaeology as deeply embedded within those discourses as

well. This situation is clearly expressed in 19th century British imperialism,in which territorial expansion ensured that raw materials and resources wouldbe controlled. The monumentality of the past is yet another example of a cul-tural resource to be appropriated. This form of intellectual colonialism soughtto extricate Egypt from its past glories and future potentials in service of theruling empire. Egypt and its riches are still seen as a global resource and thusas a responsibility that involves heritage managers, conservators, planners,funding bodies, and international organizations. Today archaeologists occupydifferent positionsthat of facilitator and managerthis time in the serviceof Egypt as a modern nation. Some might claim that we also facilitate our ac-ademic ventures simultaneously, so as not to cast this as an entirely altruisticendeavor! Foundational to colonial imperatives was the notion that subjectcultures require management and regimes to articulate, map and control re-

sources, specifically their monumental past.Following these sentiments, individuals and organizations still assert that

the Egyptians themselves are incapable of managing these resources: they areto be effectively administered and controlled by the West. Despite the factthat the ultimate decision-making resides with the Egyptian Antiquities Ser-vice, they rely heavily on international archaeological investment for bothfieldwork and preservation. A compelling example of this reliance on inter-national agencies is the effort of UNESCO and German engineers to relocateAbu Simbel after construction of the Aswan High Dam. UNESCOs fundingof the Nubia Museum in Aswan is another high-profile initiative that has be-come embroiled in controversy over questions of ethnicity, citizenship, andtransnational culture (Smith 1999). Yet this is not to advocate that we relin-quish our efforts to conserve the materiality of the past or that studying and

preserving a global world heritage is a wholly negative endeavor: rather thatwe recognize the lingering elements of a colonial scheme in our thinking. Inmany respects our desire to know, label, and excavate is not so different fromthe sentiment expressed by Balfour addressing the British House of Com-mons on the necessity of Britains occupying Egypt:

We know the civilisation of Egypt better than we know the civilisation of anyother country. We know it further back; we know it more intimately; we knowmore about it. It goes far beyond the petty span of the history of our race, whichis lost in the prehistoric period at a time when the Egyptian civilisation had al-ready passed its prime.

The European heritage could not rival pharaonic time-depth and complexityand thus it became necessary to appropriate and co-opt Egyptian heritage into

a Western construction of origins. This we all know and are familiar withsince Saids magnum opus (1979) and its resultant critique (Bhabha 1994, Ja-cobs 1996). But if Saids influence has been pervasive, so also is the concernto move beyond his general critique, both in the sense of breaking down themonolith of colonialism, and in engaging more directly than our Orientalist


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forebears with the realities of an Orient that resists reification in Western dis-

cursive or political formations. We search both for voices outside as well asthose raised against the Orientalist establishment. There is the fear that if weaccord totalizing power to such entities as the West, or the Orientalists, wewill fail to understand and recognize the spaces of resistance while unwitting-ly aligning ourselves against those spaces. This is the fear voiced by Dirks(1992:10) and one that finds support with most postcolonial scholars.

I am not suggesting that the study of Egypt has resisted theorization. Tim-othy Mitchells work on the representation of Egypt through the Worlds Fairis a prime example (1988), as is Hassans account (1998) of memory andidentity. Yet despite these incursions our most frequent engagement has beenwith the discourse of so-called Egyptomania and our interest in the represen-tation of Egypt and the Orient more generally (e.g., Curl 1994, Humbert et al.1994, Shohat and Stam 1994, Lant 1997). Scholars of cultural reception and

those interested in the politics of representation have spent decades docu-menting the ways in which Europe conceived of and constructed specific vi-sions of Egypt. It was a particularly exoticized and eroticized gaze,constructing Egypt as infantilized, playful, yet voluptuous, and commodified(Meskell 1998). It is a fascinating topic and the source of numerous volumesand exhibitions. Interestingly, we, as scholars, have always been concernedwith the European encoding of a pharaonic past, rather than looking to thesource itself, again removing Egypt from its spatio-temporal setting andagain interpolating it into Western Enlightenment regimes of power, inventedorigins, and cultural evolution. Such an argument has been developed for theMiddle East more generally by Bahrani (1998).

SYMBOLIC VIOLENCE, TOURISM, AND TERRORISM

Amongst archaeologists it has long been said that the Egyptian people, be-cause of the impact of Islam, hold no special relationship with antiquity andthat they are largely disinterested in knowing their past, much less preservingit. However true this may seem, such generalizations make it easier for West-erners to continue their current practices in Egypt, for us to taxonomize andinterpret, and to conduct our field strategies in our current quasi-colonialmanner without any attempts at reflexiveness. To date, the only substantiveanalysis of archaeology, heritage and tourism has been conducted at Gurna(FIG. 1). Tim Mitchell is a political scientist, not an archaeologist, althoughhis insights are vital for all of us. In a recent paper he explores the complex

machinations between the Egyptian government and one local community(Mitchell 2000), a situation that involved the forced relocation of the Gur-nawis, the promoters of the tourist trade, and the development of an open-airmuseum. Mitchells study focuses upon the reactions of the local people ofGurna in their desperate attempts to reclaim their homes and their only source


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FI

GURE

1.

GurnaVillage,1995.


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of income, which is generated from tourism. This struggle involved diverse

local groups resisting top-down global pressures for a museum in aid of ashared world heritage. Working in the Valley of the Nobles for several fieldseasons, I understand the threats of destruction, the escalating pressures oftourism, and the fractious relationships between archaeologists, tourists andGurnawis. It was far from an easily resolvable situation as later events dem-onstrated: we are being asked to privilege one group over the other, the deadover the living as it were, and this has uncomfortable repercussions.

In 1996 the people of Gurna, threatened with the eviction and demolitionof their homes, wrote a petition stating that

[we] have become threatened in our homes, we have become agonized withfear, while our houses are demolished above our heads and we are driven fromour homeland. The pretext for all this is that we damage and do harm to tourism

and that we threaten the safety of the monuments. We do not understand whohas fabricated these rumours. We come from the monuments and by the monu-ments we exist. Our livelihood is from tourism (quoted in Mitchell 2000).

Many archaeologists have seen other sides to this argument, such as the long-term destruction of the tombs and the threats of looting. But we have to recog-nize our place as interlopers in a foreign country and that our life experiencesare contrary to those invoked in the petition. We again must question why deadEgyptians are more important than living ones. Whether we like it or not, ar-chaeologists are complicit in various forms of real and symbolic violence atGurna and elsewhere: our work provides the raw material for a burgeoningtourist industry and is conducted under the auspices of the Supreme Councilof Antiquities. We, too, work under guidelines set out by the national govern-ment and are similarly scrutinized by the local government inspectorate.

As Mitchell documents, there have been more than 50 years of attemptedrelocation at Gurna. More recently the authorities have deployed bulldozers,armed police officials, tourism investors, and U.S. and World Bank consult-ants: quite clearly the heritage industry has made use of violence in achievingits goals. In one attempt at relocation four people were killed and at least 25were wounded. In 1998 the head of the Luxor City Council was quoted inAl-

Ahram as saying that the shanty town of Old Gurna (FIG. 2) would have to bedepopulated because you cant afford to have this heritage wasted becauseof informal houses being built in an uncivilized manner (quoted in Mitchell2000). Yet Gurna is not an isolated instance: the Egyptian government wasalso trying to move families away from the pyramid at Meidum, the templesin Esna and Edfu, and from around the Great Pyramids in Giza. Officials suc-ceeded in removing from Gurna some 1,300 families who lived in traditional

mud-brick houses directly on top of the Tombs of the Nobles and these 400tombs constitute a major tourist attraction. Many of the Gurnawis are nowhoused in newly built concrete buildings at a nearby village, New Tarif, setup largely by Egypts Armed Forces. While some may see this as steps toward


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FIGURE 2. Sennefer coffee shop, Gurna, 1995.


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modernization, the concrete constructions at New Tarif are less suited to the

Egyptian climate and could be perceived as alienating in this specific context.It is clear that violence has been enacted here on all levels, both real and sym-bolic, against the Gurnawis, ironically in the name of their own national her-itage. The global remains privileged territory.

Lila Abu-Lughod lucidly encapsulates the issue, differentiating the variouslocal and national spheres enmeshed in the tension over Gurnas past and fu-ture. One difficulty lies in separating out patriotic concerns for the preserva-tion of Egyptian heritage, stemming from pressures of tourist revenues atboth state and private levels, from considerations for the community (Abu-Lughod 1998:162). Acknowledging the importance of Egypts archaeologi-cal treasures, she also reflects on the plight of ordinary people whose needscannot be brushed away, as simply as the archaeologist might do to reveal theglories of the past. The metaphor of brushing away is pre-figured in all suchinterventions. As Abu-Lughod clearly argues in the case of the Gurna reloca-tion, while many at the higher governmental levels and lite classes are so-cially concerned and even sympathetic, they remain tied to their particularvalues and priorities, which are, in turn, structured by a specific vision of na-tional modernity. Even our vision of the local is complex and multi-faceted,projecting a myriad of views and experiences surrounding a single site. AsJane Jacobs (1996:35) has eloquently argued :

It is precisely in the local that it is possible to see how the past, including im-perial and pre-imperial pasts, inheres in place. This is not an archaic residue,but an active and influential occupation. A pertinent example of this is given bythe places that are designated as heritage, such as historic buildings or othercultural sites. These are inherited artefacts but they gain an active influence inthe present by way of the various popular meanings and official sanctions as-

cribed to them. The making of heritage is a political process. Certain placesmay be incorporated into sanctioned views of the national heritage while othersmay be seen as a threat to the national imaginary and are suppressed or obliter-ated. It is not simply that heritage places symbolise certain values and be-liefs, but that the very transformation of these places into heritage is a processwhereby identity is defined, debated, and contested and where social orders arechallenged or reproduced (Karp 1992:5). Heritage is not in any simple sense thereproduction and imposition of dominant values. It is a dynamic process of cre-ation in which a multiplicity of pasts jostle for the present purpose of beingsanctified as heritage.

In an explicitly political move, Suzanne Mubarak, the wife of the Egyptianpresident, said that the people of Luxor are the priority in this project. Ifsome villages have to be removed in order to save our heritage, that does not

mean we dont care for individuals. On the contrary we are giving them a bet-ter alternative with complete services.1 The Egyptian government has beentalking about vacating Gurna since the time of president Gamal Abdel Nass-er. The secretary-general of the Supreme Council for Antiquities, Ali Hassan,reported to the media that some 250 houses had been demolished in Gurna as


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part of the authorities campaign to create an off-limits zone on the West

Bank of Luxor. The total cost of the infrastructure for the creation of the newvillage was E103.8 million. Official figures say there were 7,388 people liv-ing in Gurna, estimated to reach 15,000 by the year 2020. There are suppos-edly 1,776 houses in New Tarif built on an area of 261 acres. Understandably,the villagers have been deeply suspicious of the governments intentions. Pastattempts to relocate people, specifically in model communities with vernac-ular architecturemost notably that of Hassan Fathihave failed. SinceJanuary 1996, houses in Old Gurna have been regularly demolished, whichAli Hassan says has led to the discovery of new tombs of pharaonic nobles.The governments plan has been described as reinventing Thebesusingthe ancient Greek name for the area of modern day Luxor. The intent was thecreation of a large living museum, replacing the traditional or dead mu-seums: open-air museums replace those under cover, sound replaces hushedsilence, and visitors are not separated from the exhibits by glass.

Gurna was a major tourist center until an attack on November 17, 1997 byMuslim extremists took the lives of 58 foreigners and four Egyptians. Thisattack on the West Bank of Luxor severely damaged Egypts lucrative tour-ism industry, which earned the country $3 billion a year. Over the last decadetourism has waxed and waned with the incidents of terrorism. A glance at thefigures from Egypts Tourist Authority show a significant drop of 12.8%,equating to a decline of 56.8% in numbers of tourist nights spent in Egypt.While a few Egyptologists reported the news of the attack on various web-sites, the topic did not fuel further discussion. It was considered an extremeinstance in an escalating series of militant attacks on tourists over the past fewyears. This silence is part of a wider malaise in Egyptology as a discipline.

Egyptologists have convinced themselves that they have little to do with thelived experience of people like the Gurnawis and remain outside the process-es at work, processes that they are deeply implicated in by the nature of theirwork, and the very subject matter of archaeology.

Another nodal point in political, religious, economic, social and spatialterms is the 1997 massacre by Islamic militants at the Temple of Hatshepsut(FIG. 3). This violent episode at one of the most iconic monuments of thepharaonic pastenacted primarily against touristssomehow eluded Egyp-tologists or was deemed outside their intellectual territory. The Temple ofHatshepsut is often cited as a supremely modernist architectural feat, in ateleological construction that ensures its translatability to a contemporary au-dience. The locale of the temple is a potent one: surrounded by a bay of cliffs,the temple is set in against the natural rock: a perfect cipher for the nature:cul-

ture divide. The temple is also a concrete statement of the fundamental hu-man desire to achieve eternity. Chris Rojek (1993:195) argues that templesbuilt in the names of the rulers of Ancient Egypt at Luxor are salient exam-ples of this desire, as are the Taj Mahal and the Lincoln Memorial. In each amegalomaniac quality can be discerned along with their grandeur and beauty.


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FIGURE3.

TempleofHatshepsut,WestBank,

1996

.


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The visual spectacle of the temples space has long been recognized and in-

deed is similarly celebrated as a performative space: the opera Aida is oftenperformed there. Thus ancient and modern Egypt become seamlessly en-meshed. Foremost, it is a tourist site, closely situated near other famed sitessuch as the Valley of the Kings, the Valley of the Queens, the Valley of theNobles, the Colossi of Memnon, and so on. It is a major stopping point on thetouring track of visitors travelling to Luxor. Reports from the Egyptian au-thorities suggested that the attack was primarily aimed at the police and se-curity forces. However, this strategem was generally assumed to be agovernment ploy to allay fears and to minimize damage to the tourist industryat large. The targets of the attack were predominantly tourists. There hadbeen similar attacks in the past, such as the terrorist assault in Cairo in Sep-tember of 1997, where three gunmen specifically ambushed a tourist bus infront of the Cairo Museum, killing at least nine tourists and wounding another

19. Three gunmen opened fire and tossed explosives at buses parked outsidethe Egyptian Museum in Tahrir Square.2 This famous location, home to thetreasures of Tutankhamun and thousands of other archaeological masterpiec-es, is a key tourist site for almost every visitor to Egypt. Tour groups congre-gate there en masse in ostentatious tour buses which only serve to flag theirforeign presence. Many other local buses regularly stopped in Tahrir Squarecarrying Cairenes around the city, yet they were spared. Clearly tourists werethe prime target, ensuring complete global coverage for the militant cause andmaximum damage to the national economy and world-wide profile.

For the people of Egypt, the economic benefits from tourism are often lessthan anticipated. It is well documented that the majority of tourist investmentin the developing world has in fact been undertaken by large-scale companiesin North America or Western Europe. This is by no means a charitable ven-

ture since the bulk of such tourist expenditure is retained by the transnationalcompanies involved; only 2225% of the retail price remains in the hostcountry (Urry 1990:6465). At the same time, we have to ask whether manydeveloping countries have much alternative to tourism as a developmentstrategy. While there are serious economic and social costs, such as the sym-bolic violence to the displaced persons at Gurna, it is very difficult in the ab-sence of alternatives to see that developing countries have much choice but topromote their attractiveness as objects of the tourist gaze, particularly for vis-itors from North America, Western Europe and Japan. According to Urry(1990:132), the sovereignty of the consumer and trends in popular taste arecolluding to transform the museums social role. As in the planned open-airmuseum at Gurna, the overwhelming mass of the population, such as the peo-ple of the entire West Bank, will inevitably be excluded. While heritage pol-

itics generally concerns the local, the specificities of place, it is by no meansa process removed from broader spatialities. Sanctioned heritage is taken upinto national imaginings, as Jacobs suggests (1996:36). As we have seen withGurna, local sites are heavily connected to global processes of commodifica-tion. The politics of identity is undeniably also a politics of place. But as Ja-


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cobs argues, this is not the proper place of bounded, pre-given essences, but

rather an unbounded geography of difference and contest.

EGYPT IN HYPERREALITY

Other forms of symbolic violence are enacted in Egypt, again in the serviceof tourism, and I would suggest that tourists willingness to take part is keyin these struggles. In recent decades the large hotels, primarily 5-star touristhotels, have created spaces in which tourists are presented with an Egyptianexperience, but prevented from any real encounters with the country or itspeople. Through hyperreal constructions of themed restaurants or completeEgyptian villages one can attain a specific sense of the culture without any

immediate contact (Baudrillard 1993). I would suggest that constructing avillage inside a palatial hotel is more extreme than the more familiarthemed restaurant or bar, although an extension of the same principle. Quiteinsidiously, foreigners can experience Egypt without coming into contactwith its realities, thus allowing hotel chains to further monopolize additionalforeign currency. Tourists are spared the sort of encounters and negotiationsthat once characterized visiting communities like Gurna: people begging,children trying to sell dolls, people offering services etc. This kind of bar-gaining and begging was perceived to be an uncomfortable experience formany tourists (Abu-Lughod 1998:162, Mitchell 2000). Through the simulac-ra proffered by the hotels, the tourist can avoid the unpleasant reminders ofeconomic inequality and and he or she can simply enjoy the commodificationof an exotic culture. Where this differs from the theme parks and heritagesites in Europe, though, is that most Egyptian examples seek to reproducepoorer, rural or balady villages, whichmany city dwellers in Egypt wouldalso shun (FIG. 4). Hotels are presenting a vision of an authentic Egypt that isinherently Orientalized: it is poor, crudely constructed, rural, and indeliblyreminiscent of ancient times (Mitchell 1990). It implies that life is essentiallyunchanged through the millennia, encapsulating the past, but not requiringthe client to leave the confines of luxury. No human costs or consciences arefactored into these constructions. Employees working in such hotels havebeen trained, educated in various languages, and basically instructed in thetypes of behaviors and roles they are expected to adopt (Rojek 1993, 2000).In this the Egyptian example is like many others around the globe: employeesare compelled to adopt specific personae. By juxtaposing the luxury and op-

ulence of a Western hotel complex with the modest, even quaint renderingsof village life, certain propositions are made about civilization and hierarchy.Apart from the obvious racist overtones that pervade such hyperreal villages,Egypt is misrepresented by a static, continuous, and endlessly same village.Mock village sites are essentially populated by co-opted actors dressed in


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FIGURE

4.

Reconstru

ctionofbalady

village,PioneerHotel,KhargaOasis.


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costume, serving food, pouring beer (with all its anti-Muslim associations),

making craft goods and generally functioning as entertainment. Such perfor-mances are also about a commodified gaze of inequality, about those whoserve and those who are there to be entertained. This certainly opens up an-other space for colonial fantasies of the Orient to be played out, now throughthe agency of the leisure industry.

One has to question why many tourists might feel happier in visiting suchconstructed spaces rather than in actually encountering Egypt. Is this simplya response to the perceived threat to tourists safety that terrorists impose? Orare such practices part of the problem in the first instance? Perhaps for manyordinary Egyptians, foreigners are perceived not as individuals but as anony-mous, indistinguishable groups who come en masse to visit the splendors ofan Egypt past and who are fundamentally uninterested in meeting or making

connections with living people: in fact they want to be spared such encountersat all costs. Would those same people feel the same sentiments travelling inItaly, Britain, or Australia, and would this ultimately prevent them from meet-ing the locals? Surely part of any authentic experience (and I use this termadvisedly) of anothers homeland is to engage with its native population.With the increase of globalization in the pursuit of foreign products and ex-periences and more adventure-oriented, culturally charged tours, it wouldseem contradictory to negate such interactions. To reconcile such a contradic-tion I can only advert to the persistent residual impact of Orientalism and rac-ism which marks certain groups as undesirable, and troublesome, and notpossessing any cultural cachet. However, those who construct their identitiesas travellers rather than tourists will probably recognize the value of meet-ing local people in terms of authenticity, cultural exchange and perhaps evenresistance to expected norms. I have often witnessed young travellers in

Egypt who explicitly go native in an attempt to distance themselves fromthe older, more bourgeois tourists so that they may experience Egypt firsthand by befriending a local, visiting a family home or becoming involved ona more intimate level. Much of this is short-lived: trains, planes andfeluccasensure that these experiences are transitory. And it must be said that eventhese putatively authentic social relations frequently operate within the dis-course of colonial desire.

CONFRONTING EGYPT

Archaeologists, like anthropologists, must accept that they work within

living communities, even if they study their long dead ancestors. There areexceptions to the rule, such as archaeologist Diana Craig Patch, who has or-ganized field programs under the auspices of the Supreme Council of Antiq-uities and the American Research Center in Egypt with funding provided byUSAID to train Egyptian inspectors in current field methodologies (Craig


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Patch, forthcoming). A team from Southampton working at Quseir, led by

Stephanie Moser and David Peacock, has begun work on community out-reach and museum programs. These are relatively new initiatives and onesthat provide compelling examples of what archaeologists can and should bedoing in Egypt. In most instances, archaeologists tend to fly in, do their field-work, pay their local workmen, and leave. We publish our results in scholarly

journals, go to conferences, and sometimes encourage an Egyptian student toattend our academic institution. We do not usually involve ourselves in out-reach programs in Egypt, involve local people in our interpretations, or pub-licize our results locally (in plain English or Arabic). Moreover, we do notrecognize the importance of building museums or training Egyptian peoplein conservation or heritage management: nor do we expect to learn from the

Egyptians and their unique experience. We then complain that they are igno-rant, uneducated, and uninterested in Egyptian heritage. This common asser-tion, made by many people within the discipline, makes conducting researchin Egypt and work in general less arduous and complicated. It excuses usfrom the dialogue.

In 1998 and 1999 I co-directed a survey project in the Saqqara area andsubsequently learned more about interrelationships between archaeologistsand the local community than I did about settlement patterns in pharaonictimes. As I had expected, these agricultural workers did not want us travers-ing their fields: they were frightened and often confrontational about archae-ologists and the Antiquities Services taking away their land. And they oftenconstructed elaborate narratives to explain that the topsoil came from Mem-phis, for instance, and so finding objects there only pointed to sites furthereast from Saqqara, conveniently away from their fields. We cannot blame

them. Waving a piece of paper signed by a government official is perhaps thebest way to alienate a group of farmers, and archaeology has subsequentlyachieved a poor reputation in this area. This situation might be remedied ifarchaeologists were to make some efforts towards involving people at a com-munity level, discussing plans and findings, publicizing results in a meaning-ful manner, and creating education and museum facilities.

In my few days away from Saqqara that year, after a particularly confron-tational episode with one farmer, I decided to look more closely at the Egyp-tian urban landscape for some fragments of memorialization to the pharaonicpast. This was not especially hard to find: examples are found in simple do-mestic decoration, public transport, civic monuments (FIG. 5), aeroplanes,and in logos of concrete companies, insurance brokers etc. Antiquity is con-stantly invoked in representations and celebrations of Egypt. Specifically in

the 1920s and 1930s a neo-pharaonic style of architecture blossomed, gener-ally attributed to Uthman Muharram (Volait 1988:45). This movement uti-lized the pyramid and pharaonic temple edifices in public buildings aroundCairo. The period also witnessed the nationalistic paintings of Mahmud Saidand the sculptures of Mahmud Mukhtar such as those that adorn the mauso-


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FIGURE

5.

CivicbuildingintheDelta,

1999.


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leum for Sad Zaghul, directly inspired by pharaonic style and motifs. Be-

tween 1930 and 1952 other overtures were made to the pharaonic past;Naguib Mafouz set his first three novels in ancient Egypt, the nationalisticuse of Tutankhamuns tomb, the creation of the Museum of the EgyptianCivilisation, and the rewriting of the Egyptian past in school textbooks (Cou-dougnan 1988, Reid 1997). As Hassan recounts (1998:204), schools are thedissemination centers for knowledge of the pharaonic past, whereas Islamicheritage is integral to growing up at home. Many scholars have documentedthe movement known as pharaonicism (e.g., Marlowe 1965, Gershoni andJankowski 1986, Goldschmidt Jr. 1988, Reid 1997) and its direct invocationof pharaonic ancestry in both cultural and biological spheres (Meskell, forth-coming). One has only to consult recent accounts of Egypts modern historyto find examples from a variety of spheres that document the complex rela-tionships between pharaonic Egypt and its modern Arab counterpart.

The pharaonically inspired building program continued in later decades,yet perhaps on a more informal level. Thus we can document more recent ca-sual and vernacular constructions away from government-orchestrated pro-grams. In desert locations outside Cairo I found remarkable buildingscelebrating pharaonic style, mostly warehouses and industrial buildings(FIG. 6). One example clearly incorporated both pharaonic and Islamic ico-nographies, patterns one might assume to be mutually exclusive and contra-dictory. Additionally, there are numerous statues and monuments aroundCairo itself, such as the huge mural dedicated to the Egyptian armed forcesin the suburb of Heliopolis (FIG. 7). This monument is on the main route tothe airport and thus visible to every tourist travelling into Cairo. It is also atthe heart of the Egyptian military complex, headquarters and officers clubs,

and near Mubaraks residential palace, a prime area for national symbols andiconic resonances linking past and present. This massive mural documentsthe glory of an ancient empire and traces it through from pharaonic images ofbattle (pharaohs, chariots, archers) to modern images of warfare. The ancientrepresentation of the Eye of Horus is juxtaposed with the symbol of nuclearenergy. Ancient hieroglyphs and modern Arabic script sit side by side. Withthe ancient representation of the Nile as its uniting theme, the prowess of theEgyptian military is taken through from the Bronze Age to the modern era re-plete with rocket launchers, tanks, and planes. Pharaonic imagery is thusforegrounded in this potent locale, which includes nearby free-standing an-cient monuments of obelisks and royal statues. The mural is also near themain headquarters of the national airline Egyptair, which employs the imageof the pharaonic falcon deity, Horus. This image is emblazoned everywherein this part of Cairo, in statuary, on billboards, and now in neon. Each planein Egyptairs fleet is also named after an ancient Egyptian deity. A cynicmight declare this propagandistic, a way of manipulating the glories of thepast, but I would counter that this use of symbols and signs reinforces a con-nectivity with the past, allowing the Egyptians the intellect and sophistication


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FIGURE

6.

Warehouseinthewesterndesert,nearCairo,

1999.


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FIGURE

7.

MuralcelebratingEgyptianmilitaryhistory,

Heliopolis,

Cairo,

2000.


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to deploy the past on the basis of national pride, much as the Greeks or Turks

might (Hamilakis 1996, Hamalakis and Yalouri 1996, papers in Meskell1998). In an interesting parallel, the modern Greek people are often portrayedas inherently different and separated from their past, just as modern Egyp-tians are, but through different processes, such as ethnic mixing andenculturation.

Clearly there is no single, monolithic ideological relationship between themodern Egyptian state, the people of Egypt, and their pharaonic past. Somesectors of the community undoubtedly feel proud and connected to their an-cient heritage; government and tourist-related industries will seek to stresslinks to antiquity; others may recognize the importance and treasures of thepast, but might not feel any specific lineage; while still others may simply en-

joy picnicking amongst the ruins on holidays along with hundreds of their fel-low countrymen. Pharaonicism may have declined since the 1930s, but there

have been other engagements between modern and ancient Egypt, at both na-tional and popular levels and through different social spheres. Recently, LilaAbu-Lughod has documented the ways in which relations with the pharaonicpast, archaeology, and archaeologists have been encoded in popular culture,namely the ever-popular television soap operas (1998). In her work on the TVseriesDream of the Southerner, she shows how an educated local teacher, aself-taught Egyptologist, struggles with a tomb-robber over the rightful placeof antiquities in Egypt. In the serial, the local Egyptian archaeologist is por-trayed heroically, as someone who recognizes the national importance of an-cient treasures. The tomb-robber on the other hand, works with foreigncollectors and one of his cronies actually sets an Islamist group against theEgyptologist. This scenario reinforces the government-sanctioned viewthrough an extremely popular medium of representation. The popularity and

long-standing appeal of such themes suggests a concerted message that is ofinterest to various groups. This impels us to rewrite our old narratives aboutthe lack of connectivity between past and present and to recognize the colo-nialist substrate that inheres in such assertions. The colonialist endeavor wasactivated by numerous desires and needs; it took hold in a variety of forms;and colonialist formations survive and are reactivated today in a multitude ofways (Jacobs 1996:17).

Most of us either visit Egypt or practice Egyptian archaeology as if we stillinhabited an ancient landscape, ignoring the living people and their tradi-tions. There are exceptions, but they remain somewhat unique in the widersphere of practice in Egypt. Archaeologists must become more politicized,certainly more theorized about the activities and their implications andmore active in their negotiations in a fuller global settingand that includes

the local level. Only when this level of involvement is achieved can we trulyenter discussions about responsibility and ethics and make our proper contri-bution to the social sciences and, more importantly, to the people of Egypt.


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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A version of this paper was presented for the presidential panel on politicsat the Archaeological Institute of America meetings in December 1999. Itrepresents preliminary work in an ongoing project. The current version owesmuch to subsequent discussions with a number of colleagues: Lila Abu-Lughod, Zainab Bahrani, Emma Blake, James Conlon, Ian Hodder, ElizabethSmith and Tim Mitchell. Their support and encouragement in this new en-deavour are greatly appreciated.

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NOTES

1. Quoted from Emad Mekay in the Middle East Times (http://metimes.com/issue30/eg/4luxor.htm).

2. From CNN interactive news (http://www.cnn.com/WORLD/9709/18/egypt.attack.730/index.html)

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