Latest / Ramses the Great: Egypt's Most Powerful Pharaoh — Fexingo History / Ramses II's Secret Police and the First Labor Strike
Transcript
- Lucas: We’ve spent the last twenty episodes mapping out the sheer scale of Ramses II’s empire — from the delta capital of Per-Ramesses to the gold mines of Nubia, and the diplomatic intricacies of the Hittite treaty. But today, I want to step away from the temples and the battlefields for a moment. I want to take you into a dusty, enclosed village in the shadow of the Theban hills, where a very different kind of conflict was brewing. Luna: You mean inside the walls of Deir el-Medina? Lucas: Exactly. For over a century, this small community housed the skilled artisans, painters, and masons who carved and decorated the royal tombs in the nearby Valley of the Kings. They were highly trained professionals, respected for their craft, and they lived in a walled village that was essentially self-sufficient. But by Year 29 of Ramses II’s reign, something extraordinary happened there. Luna: What exactly happened in the village? Lucas: They went on strike. It is widely considered the first recorded labor strike in human history. The workers simply walked off the job, refusing to enter the tombs or produce any more work. And what’s fascinating is that they didn’t just vanish; they made a formal complaint. They sat down, wrote it all out on papyrus, and sent a petition directly to the vizier and the royal administration. Luna: A written petition from ancient construction workers? That sounds incredibly bold. Lucas: It was. The scribe Khety recorded the event in the Ostracon, a shard of pottery used as scrap paper, noting that 'the workmen are hungry.' The context was a severe drought that had devastated the Nile’s flood levels, leading to a famine across Kemet. Despite the national crisis, the workers’ grain rations — which were supposed to be delivered regularly from the royal stores — had stopped coming. They were starving while the pharaoh’s monuments remained unfinished. Luna: So they risked punishment by stopping work during a famine? Lucas: They absolutely did. In a society governed by Ma'at, where order was paramount and disobedience was dangerous, walking off the job was a massive gamble. But they felt justified. They believed their labor was essential to maintaining cosmic order, and they were willing to leverage that necessity. The strike lasted for several days, and the silence in the valley was deafening to the court in Thebes. Luna: How did the government actually respond to such an open defiance? Lucas: This is where the story gets really interesting because it shows us the machinery of the state. Ramses II didn’t send in soldiers to massacre the workers. Instead, he dispatched a high-ranking official named Paser, who served as the chief of police and a royal commissioner. His mission wasn’t to crush the strike violently, but to investigate the claims and negotiate a resolution. Paser was a man of significant power, often seen as the pharaoh’s enforcer, yet here he was acting as a mediator. Luna: I remember you mentioned Paser in earlier episodes about security. Lucas: Yes, Paser was instrumental in establishing the professional secret police force that protected the pharaoh and secured the borders. He was known for his efficiency and his loyalty. When he arrived at Deir el-Medina, he didn’t just bring threats; he brought authority and resources. He inspected the situation, verified that the rations were indeed delayed due to logistical failures and the broader economic strain, and then took action. Luna: Did he manage to get the grain moving again? Lucas: He did, but it wasn’t instant. There were bureaucratic delays, likely involving the Temple of Amun-Re, which held vast wealth and controlled much of the distribution network. Paser had to pressure the priests and the local administrators to release the stored grain. Once the workers received their back pay and current rations, they returned to work. The strike was over, but the precedent had been set. Luna: That feels like a huge shift in how power worked back then. Lucas: It was. It showed that even the divine king was accountable to practical realities. If the workers didn’t eat, the tombs wouldn’t be built, and the rituals for the pharaoh’s afterlife couldn’t proceed. The system relied on this mutual dependency. However, this wasn’t an isolated incident of kindness. Later in Ramses’ reign, when other issues arose, the same police force led by men like Paser would use much harsher tactics to maintain control. Luna: So the strike was a rare moment of successful negotiation? Lucas: In this specific case, yes. The records show that the workers got what they wanted. But let’s look at another angle: the long-term impact on the village itself. Over the decades, tensions flared up again, leading to some very messy internal conflicts within Deir el-Medina that we can read about in later legal documents. Luna: Internal conflicts among the tomb builders? Lucas: Indeed. By the end of Ramses II’s reign and into the reign of Merenptah, the village became a hotbed of intrigue. We have judicial papyri detailing crimes committed by the workers themselves. There were cases of theft from the tombs, which is ironic given they were the ones building them. One famous figure, a foreman named Paneb, was accused of assaulting a priest, forging documents, and engaging in political maneuvering to secure positions for his sons. Luna: Paneb sounds like a troublemaker. Lucas: He definitely was. Paneb represents the darker side of the artisan community. He wasn’t just a worker; he was a local boss who exploited his position. The fact that these cases were tried in royal courts, often overseen by the same police structure established during the strike era, shows how deeply the state monitored its citizens. Even in a closed village, the law extended its reach. Luna: It’s wild to think about the level of paperwork involved. Lucas: The bureaucracy was extensive. Scribes kept meticulous records of every grain delivery, every crime, and every petition. This archival culture allowed historians thousands of years later to reconstruct the daily lives of ordinary people. We know names, ages, family relationships, and grievances. It’s one of the most detailed snapshots of daily life from antiquity. Luna: And all of it preserved in those dry desert archives. Lucas: Precisely. The arid climate of Wadi Gabbanat Qurdat, where many of these ostraca were found, has acted as a natural preservative. Without it, we would know very little about the people who actually built the legacy of Ramses II. We’d only have the grand statues and the propaganda inscriptions. Luna: Those statues don't tell us about hunger or strikes. Lucas: No, they certainly don’t. They present an idealized version of Egypt, frozen in time and perfect. But the ostraca give us the messy, human reality. They remind us that behind every monument was a group of people who had needs, complaints, and agency. Ramses II could claim eternal life, but his workers demanded fresh grain today. Luna: That’s a powerful contrast between eternity and survival. Lucas: It really is. And it brings us to a point about support for this show. Listening to these stories helps keep this history alive, much like those scribes kept records. If you’ve been stepping into history with us episode by episode, your support allows us to dig deeper into these archives. Luna: It keeps the research ad-free and accessible. Lucas: Exactly. We rely on listeners who value deep, accurate history to help us continue. If you’d like to contribute, you can find us at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Every bit helps us keep these conversations going. Luna: Thanks for keeping the archives open for us. Lucas: Back to Ramses II. While the strike was resolved, the underlying tension in Deir el-Medina continued to simmer. The centralization of power under Ramses meant that local autonomy was constantly checked by the crown. The police force, originally created to protect the king, also became a tool to enforce royal will within these specialized communities. Luna: So the strike changed nothing structurally? Lucas: Structurally, no. The hierarchy remained intact. But psychologically, it mattered. The workers knew they had leverage. They knew that without them, the pharaoh’s immortality project stalled. This awareness shaped their behavior for the rest of the New Kingdom. Even when things got tough, they remembered that their labor was the engine of the state. Luna: That sense of leverage must have been empowering. Lucas: For a brief moment, yes. But power is fleeting. As Ramses aged, the economy struggled further. The gold from Nubia dried up, and the costs of maintaining the empire grew. The workers’ demands became harder to meet. The golden age of stability began to crack under the weight of its own ambition. Luna: It sounds like the foundation was starting to shake. Lucas: It was. And this leads us to the next generation. When Merenptah took over, the relationship between the throne and the people was already strained. The events of Year 29 were a warning sign that the social contract was fragile. The gods might grant eternal life, but living people needed bread. Luna: A reminder that politics always starts with the basics. Lucas: Always. It’s easy to get lost in the grandeur of Abu Simbel, but the true story of Ramses II is also in the quiet desperation of a village waiting for grain. It’s a story of resilience, negotiation, and the enduring power of collective action. Luna: I never thought of a labor strike as a heroic act in ancient times. Lucas: It doesn’t fit the usual narrative of conquest, but it’s arguably more significant for understanding society. It shows that history isn’t just made by kings; it’s made by the people who build their legacies, even if they have to stop working to make their voices heard. Luna: And that voice survived on pieces of broken pottery. Lucas: Exactly. Those shards of pottery are louder than most statues. They tell us that even in the face of absolute power, humanity finds a way to speak up. And that’s a lesson that echoes through every era since.