Latest / Ramses the Great: Egypt's Most Powerful Pharaoh — Fexingo History / Ramses II's Forgotten Labor Strike at Deir el-Medina
Transcript
- Lucas: For anyone coming with us through these conversations about North Africa, we’ve spent a lot of time looking at the grand scale of Ramses II’s reign—the wars, the treaties, the massive stone monuments carved into the bedrock of Egypt. Luna: But today we’re looking at the people who actually moved those stones. Lucas: Exactly. And usually, those people vanish into the background of history, just anonymous hands on chisels. But there is one specific community where their voices have survived, screaming across three thousand years, demanding to be heard. Luna: I remember you mentioning them briefly in the propaganda episode. Lucas: We did, but only as a footnote to the sheer volume of building projects. Today, I want to zoom in on Deir el-Medina, the village nestled in the cliffs above the Valley of the Kings, home to the artisans who carved Ramses’ own tomb and those of his predecessors. Luna: It feels almost too modern, a whole village dedicated to secret work. Lucas: It was highly secure, isolated from the general public, and paid in grain rather than currency. They were the elite workforce, respected and well-fed, or at least they were supposed to be. But around year twenty-nine of Ramses’ reign, something broke. Luna: Did the Pharaoh run out of money? Lucas: Not exactly money, since Egypt didn’t use coinage then, but the state’s ability to distribute grain. The supply chain from the Nile Delta to Upper Egypt faltered, perhaps due to low floods or administrative corruption, and the workers’ rations stopped arriving. Luna: So they just walked away from their jobs? Lucas: They did, and it was the first recorded labor strike in human history. They marched out of Deir el-Medina and went to the nearby temple precincts of Thebes, specifically the Ramesseum and Karnak, chanting that they hadn’t eaten in five days. Luna: That must have terrified the local officials. Lucas: It was a nightmare scenario. You have armed mercenaries, the Sherden guards, trying to control a group of skilled craftsmen who know the layout of every royal tomb. The chaos was so severe that the vizier had to intervene personally. Luna: Did Ramses himself step in? Lucas: He was likely in Pi-Ramesses or traveling, but his administration acted quickly. They sent emergency shipments of grain, not because they cared about the workers’ welfare, but because they needed the tombs finished before the next festival season. Luna: It’s incredible that they used hunger as leverage. Lucas: It shows a surprising level of collective bargaining power. These weren’t slaves; they were citizens with legal rights. The papyri from this era show that the workers filed formal complaints, citing their previous service and their sacred duty to Ma'at. Lucas: And honestly, if today was worth a coffee to you, that's the link — buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. It keeps these deep dives ad-free and helps us keep digging through the archives. Luna: Thanks for keeping the history alive, Lucas. Lucas: Anyway, back to the aftermath. The strike ended with a compromise: the workers got their grain, but the leaders, including a man named Paiherib, faced disciplinary action. Luna: So the system held, but barely. Lucas: It held, but it exposed the fragility of the state. Later in Ramses’ reign, we see even more tension in documents like the Judicial Papyrus of Turin, which details crimes and disputes within Deir el-Medina. Luna: I remember reading about Paneb in that document. Lucas: Yes, Paneb is a fascinating figure. He was an overseer who seems to have manipulated the system, marrying into families he shouldn’t have and stealing materials. His story is full of petty theft, adultery, and political maneuvering. Luna: He sounds like a real villain, not just a historical name. Lucas: He does. And his conflicts with other workers, like Amen-hori, reveal a community under immense stress. The authorities had to judge these cases carefully, balancing justice with the need to maintain order in such a sensitive area. Luna: It makes the tombs feel less like static monuments. Lucas: Much more dynamic. You realize that every hieroglyph was carved by someone who worried about their next meal, who argued with neighbors, and who knew they could walk out if things got bad enough. Luna: It puts the god-king’s power into perspective. Lucas: It does. Ramses could claim he was Horus incarnate, but on the ground, he was just another employer in a long line, subject to the same economic pressures as anyone else. Luna: I never thought of the Valley of the Kings as a workplace. Lucas: It was a workplace, a closed shop, and a prison all at once. The artisans lived in the Wadi Gabbanat Qurdat, guarded by soldiers, yet they found ways to assert their humanity. Luna: Through strikes and lawsuits. Lucas: Precisely. And those lawsuits are preserved on ostraca and papyri, giving us a voice that contradicts the official royal inscriptions. Luna: It’s rare to get such a grounded view of ancient politics. Lucas: It is. When we think of Ramses II, we think of Kadesh and Hattusili III, but the real drama might have been in the dust of Deir el-Medina. Luna: Where ordinary people stood up to the state. Lucas: And won, at least for a day. It’s a reminder that power isn’t just top-down; it’s negotiated, contested, and sometimes, quite literally, bought with grain. Luna: I’ll always look at those tombs differently now. Lucas: I hope so. Next time, maybe we can talk about how those same artisans decorated the tombs of later pharaohs, when the power started to slip away completely. Luna: Sounds like a darker chapter. Lucas: It certainly is. But for now, let’s just appreciate that we know their names.