Discover the Hidden History of Tomb Robbing in Ancient Egypt

On November 4, 1922, workers led by British archaeologist Howard Carter noticed a single stair peeking out from beneath the shifting Egyptian sand. Within three weeks, Carter and his team had excavated enough limestone debris and soil to reveal a stairwell that led to the antechamber of an ancient tomb.

After five long years of searching, Carter had found the tomb of Tutankhamun, deep beneath the Valley of the Kings, a site west of the Nile River. Boring a tiny hole in the second door to the antechamber, the archaeologist peered through, using the light of a single candle to survey a small room crammed with a motley mix of furniture, gilded animal heads and dismantled chariots, as well as other priceless treasures last seen more than 3,000 years prior.

The 18th Dynasty ruler’s tomb was the single most consequential discovery of Egyptian antiquities to date; its importance lay not just in the treasures hidden inside, but in the fact that the burial had somehow survived the robbers who had emptied out nearly every other ancient Egyptian tomb. Only a few royal graves rival Tutankhamun’s in splendor. Chief among them is the intact tomb of Psusennes I, known as the Silver Pharaoh because of the silver coffin that housed his mummy.

In an ancient society with a stark separation between the rich and the poor, tomb robbing was ubiquitous. Nobles literally buried their wealth while living alongside people who often didn’t have enough food to feed their families. Plundering burials was a shadow economy driven by criminals who often had inside knowledge of the tombs. It’s likely that many looters either helped build the structures themselves or paid off someone involved in the tombs’ construction, says Betsy M. Bryan, an emeritus Egyptologist at Johns Hopkins University.

Some grave robbers were stonecutters and craftsmen who left gaps in tombs’ walls or knew which bedrock was soft enough to tunnel through to reach the treasures housed within. Others schemed to evade or pay off security left to guard the tombs. These thieves were well connected, calculating and decidedly precise in their criminal endeavors, Bryan says.

“Evidence from the Old, Middle and New Kingdom[s] shows that tomb robbers could be remarkably patient and work over lengthy time periods to create tunnels into tombs that they thought would be rich [with treasures],” she says.

Looting happened consistently throughout the history of ancient Egypt, but it was most prevalent during the First and Second Intermediate Periods, which followed the Old and Middle Kingdoms, respectively. Without a strong ruler in place, power became decentralized, and the state had less money to protect its graves. The end of the New Kingdom also ushered in a period of corruption and uncertainty that resulted in widespread tomb robbing.

Officials took a range of steps to prevent tomb robbing, like carving curses on doors to scare would-be looters away. Some tombs, like the pyramid complex of Djoser, were filled with debris to block passage to the burial chambers. During the New Kingdom (circa 1550 to 1070 B.C.E.), sovereigns were buried underground instead of in aboveground pyramids. Workers tasked with building these hidden tombs lived in Deir el-Medina, a village near the Valley of the Kings. Though the isolated, close-knit nature of the community was intended to lower the likelihood of theft, it ultimately had the opposite effect, encouraging looting by the very people assigned to protect the dead.

Workers tasked with sealing tombs had the best access to the treasures hidden within. They were often the last ones out, so no one was the wiser if they ransacked the tombs they’d been hired to protect, says Aidan Dodson, an Egyptologist at the University of Bristol in England. Sometimes, the burials would appear untouched, but once the coffin was opened, the golden mask that once adorned the pharaoh’s face would be missing.

In other cases, when a mummy was unwrapped, the jewelry that had been placed inside was gone, stolen by the undertakers who’d prepared the dead for burial, Dodson says. He adds, “Resin was used in embalming, and there would be places on the body where there was an impression of a piece of jewelry that was no longer there.”

When the tomb of Nefermaat, an ancient Egyptian prince, was uncovered in 1871 at Meidum, archaeologists at first thought it was intact, sealed up tight for 4,000 years. But once inside the burial chamber, the scene was chaotic. “Everything was smashed to pieces,” Dodson says. “It had been robbed [and] the mummy broken.”

After a heist, ancient tomb robbers moved on to the next phase of the crime: trafficking their stolen goods in exchange for payment. This, too, required forethought. Getting caught bartering the mask of a pharaoh, for example, would have been cause for execution by impalement on a stake. To avoid this fate, criminals went after treasures that couldn’t be traced, like gold and other precious metals that could be melted down without buyers knowing their origin. In some cases, robbers would steal highly valuable perfumed oils to sell on the international market. Thieves also burned gilded furniture and statues to remove the gold that once adorned them, Dodson says.

Historical evidence of tomb robbing comes primarily from a set of papyri detailing trials that took place in Thebes during the New Kingdom, specifically the 20th Dynasty, which spanned 1189 to 1077 B.C.E. The legal documents provide a window into the individuals who carried out the robberies directly, who knowingly fenced looted treasures or who ferried thieves across the Nile to sell their sacred finds, Bryan says.

“We took our copper tools and forced a way into the pyramid of this king through its innermost part,” said a mason named Amenpanufer in a confession dated to around 1110 B.C.E. After stripping the royal mummies of their gold, amulets and jewels, Amenpanufer and his fellow thieves “set fire to their coffins [and] stole their furniture.” The robbers then divided the tomb’s spoils among themselves.

The papyri point to a time when the state was in turmoil, says Salima Ikram, an Egyptologist at the American University in Cairo. Rampant tomb looting coincided with a period of unrest, famine, outside attacks and constant transitions in power.

“In the 20th Dynasty when we have a lot of royal tomb robbery, the state couldn’t provide, and that’s why people were taking matters into their own hands,” says Ikram.

Still, tomb robbing wasn’t confined to times of unrest. Even Tutankhamun, who ruled during the 18th Dynasty (approximately 1550 to 1292 B.C.E.), when Egyptian civilization was at its peak, was the victim of theft. Inside the antechamber of the king’s tomb, Carter’s team found bags of abandoned loot. According to Dodson, the thieves appeared to have been caught in the act and forced to leave their ill-gotten goods behind.

Tomb robbing was one of the worst crimes an ancient Egyptian could commit, as tombs were considered sacred vehicles that provided passage to the afterlife. “Elite society was geared toward eternal life,” says Maria Golia, author of A Short History of Tomb-Raiding: The Epic Hunt for Egypt’s Treasures. Nobles were mummified and packed in a tomb with their belongings, all of them necessities, because “the afterlife was viewed as an extension of their current life,” Golia explains.

Destruction of a tomb was, in a sense, a form of murder—a fact reflected in the brutality of documented punishments, Ikram says. Some accused criminals had their hands cut off, while others were impaled, a form of execution where a stake was inserted into the anus, perforating the body all the way up to the torso.

No matter the punishment, noble tombs remained ripe for theft throughout ancient Egypt’s 3,000-year history—and beyond. After the civilization fell into decline, thievery gave way to treasure hunting, with residents of the region no longer revering Egyptian religion or fearing the curses of the dead, says Dodson. Stealing from tombs was hardly considered a crime anymore. By the late 19th century, seizing such riches was a government-sanctioned practice, with archaeologists excavating tombs in the name of science.

In an ancient world marked by haves and have-nots, loot tucked inside pyramids and buried underground presented an opportunity for an irresistible crime, especially as the once-great Egyptian empire lost power. What was formerly sacred was now a means for feeding a family, Golia says.

“This was a system built on burying money, even entire households, underground,” she says, “and while the architects only had one shot at building an impenetrable tomb, the robbers had all the time in the world to figure out how to get in.”

Sara Novak | READ MORE

Sara Novak is a science journalist focused on climate, psychology, the life sciences and paleontology. She is a contributing writer to Discover magazine, and her work has appeared in the New York Times, National Geographic, Scientific American, Medscape, New Scientist, the Charleston Post and Courier, and many others.