LUXOR, Egypt -- Somber workers in turbans pulled the mummy of King Tutankhamen out of its tomb in the Valley of the Kings last month and carried it outdoors for the first time in 70 years. Suddenly, gusts of wind swept dust up through the canyon. The high-tech machinery put in place to probe Tut's 3,000-year-old remains broke down.
There he goes again -- yet another event in a long string of weird happenings that have made Tutankhamen the most storied of mummies. He is the boy king who died young in a tumultuous period of ancient Egyptian history. By luck, his tomb lay undisturbed for millenniums and stored a collection of marvels: gold masks, jewelry, alabaster vases for his preserved organs, sarcophagi within sarcophagi, graceful statuary of gods and animals alike, and furniture, even a bed.
Zahi Hawass, center, checks the Tut mummy inside the ancient ruler's tomb in the Valley of the Kings last month in advance of a scanning machine's examination. Tut's artifacts have embarked on a world tour.
(Saedi Press Via AP)
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And he's at least as notorious for his association with the Mummy's Curse, the stuff of Gothic novels and mummy movies for almost 200 years. You know how it goes: "Death shall come on swift wings to him who disturbs the peace of the king" and other such No Trespassing signs on pharaonic tombs.
For Zahi Hawass, who heads Egypt's Supreme Council for Antiquities, the ill wind and machinery meltdown were a godsend -- yet more nourishment for the King Tut legend and good publicity for Egypt.
"A little publicity is a good thing," says Hawass. "Tutankhamen, along with the Sphinx and the pyramids, is an icon in Egypt. The more news he makes, the better for tourism, for antiquities and for Egypt."
Such words may seem odd coming from a man who is the gatekeeper for scientific exploration among Egypt's vast store of ancient treasures. Yet they represent a new -- and controversial -- view of the value and uses of Egypt's pharaonic past: It's time to cash in.
"Tutankhamen has magic and mystery," Hawass says. "Every child in the whole world knows his name. Egypt used to send the relics around for free. No more. There are no free lunches."
The principle is currently on display in Europe and will soon be in the United States. It's a traveling exhibit of King Tut artifacts and related relics. Hawass said the tour is netting Egypt $50 million in proceeds. It opened in Basel, Switzerland, is currently in Bonn, Germany, then this summer moves to Los Angeles. Also on the tour schedule are Chicago, Fort Lauderdale, Fla., and Philadelphia.
In advance of the Los Angeles opening, the National Geographic Society, one of the sponsors of the U.S. tour, as well as a stop in London, is planning to air a TV documentary twice on the National Geographic Channel, once in May and again in June. It's called "Pharaoh's Curse," and includes the Valley of the Kings mishap, which occurred Jan. 5.
Fine, say critics, but does Tut need to be trotted out like an aging movie star for promotional reasons? Tut was last inspected by archaeologists in 1978, and the work took place inside the tomb several feet below the desert sands and rock. If you are going to bring him out, critics ask, shouldn't scientists first do all the requisite inspections to test his state of decay? Neither detailed still photos, DNA smears nor other hands-on inspections were done, complains Saleh Bedeir, who resigned from the Supreme Council's scientific team when it was decided to bring out Tut.
"This was just show business. It has nothing to do with science," Bedeir says.
Terry Garcia, an executive vice president of the National Geographic Society, insists that bringing out Tut has research value. He says new technology will bring new discoveries. "We are entering an age of the greatest period of exploration," he says. "Our mission is to increase research and diffuse knowledge. Television communicates knowledge on a large scale. There's no question that Tut is the best-known mummy, at least in the public mind, and he will attract a lot of attention."
It is tempting to regard the flap as a purely contemporary battle between science and marketing. In fact, money, fame, prestige and a bit of hucksterism have long competed with serious archaeological research in Egypt. European explorers and their patrons, the 19th-century pioneers of modern Egyptian digs, combined greed and self-aggrandizement in equal measure. They sold off vast quantities of artifacts to museums in Europe while carefully nurturing images as intrepid adventurers.
In 1922, Howard Carter, the English discoverer of Tut's tomb, gave exclusive rights to London's Times newspaper for coverage of the tomb's opening, to the outraged complaints of Egyptian newspapers. As Carter broke in, he exclaimed, "I can see wonderful things." Then, over several years of excavation, he proceeded to smash Tut's body while prying off his famous golden mask, amulets and jewelry. Carter's patron had planned to take some of the treasure himself, but authorities of newly quasi-independent Egypt thwarted his ambitions.
