History's First Documented Villain: The Case of Egyptian Brigadier Paneb

In Ancient Egypt, gods were revered, pharaohs were glorified, and majestic tombs were built. The builders of royal tombs were considered true masters of their craft and commanded particular respect. But even among these professionals, there were individuals whose fame was darker than the Egyptian night. One of them was Paneb from the village of Deir el-Medina. He went down in history not as a great architect, but as a cruel, depraved, and utterly unpredictable individual. Many researchers believe he may have been the first documented psychopath in human history.

Sadly, time sometimes erases the names of outstanding artists and scholars from memory and documents, but, as if in mockery, it preserves the memory of the most notorious scoundrels. The story of the "outlaw" Paneb has come down to us thanks to a papyrus that is over 3,200 years old.

The author of the document was Master Amennacht, a fellow craftsman of Paneb's. He wrote a detailed complaint to the vizier, listing a long list of crimes: misappropriation of office, theft of materials for royal tombs and temples, desecration of sacred sites, perjury, exploitation of royal workers for personal gain, and numerous affairs with other men's wives.

Amennakht reports that Paneb threatened to kill his adoptive father and teacher, Neferhotep—the elder brother of the denouncer—for which he had already been punished by the vizier's servants. He also accuses Paneb of violent acts against four married women. Some episodes are described in horrific detail.

But let's take things in order. In 1244 BCE, in the tomb-building village of Set-Ma'at (modern-day Deir el-Medina), a boy named Paneb was born. No one could say anything bad about his parents: his father was a hereditary stonemason named Nefersenut, and his mother was a modest and hardworking woman named Iuya.

Nefersenut worked in the "right side" crew under Neferhotep (at that time, the right and left sides of the tomb were built by separate teams). For unknown reasons—possibly an epidemic—Paneb was orphaned early. The childless foreman, Neferhotep, adopted the boy and raised him as his own.

Neferhotep was a wealthy and respected man: he wore the finest linen, drank good wine, and would slaughter a cow simply to treat guests. Paneb knew no want, and when he grew up, he went to work on the same construction site. But then a civil war broke out between Pharaoh Seti II and the usurper Amenmesse. Neferhotep died, and Paneb somehow took his place as foreman, beating out the deceased's brother, Amennakht, who was entitled to the position by all laws and traditions.

At first, Paneb seemed a worthy successor. His name appears in 32 ostraca—clay tablets containing everyday records. There, he is portrayed as an accomplished scholar and a pious man. He had a wife who bore him ten children. Paneb himself served on the village council of elders and even sat in the local court with his wife.

Everything changed in 1816, when British Egyptologist Henry Salt discovered papyrus number 124 in Deir el-Medina. This ancient document put an end to Paneb's perfect reputation and revealed his true colors. The papyrus is the very same denunciation from Amennakht to the vizier, demanding an investigation and the brigadier's punishment to the fullest extent of the law. At the end of the complaint, the author writes:

If we are to believe everything Amennakht has written, the definition of "madman" seems too lenient. Paneb's most innocuous offenses were bribery and abuse of power. He bribed the previous vizier, giving him five slaves that had previously belonged to Neferhotep, in order to obtain the position of foreman.

Like many modern foremen, Paneb loved to cheat. He stole materials from royal construction sites and secretly built himself a luxurious tomb. He also forced his subordinates to work on private contracts during working hours.

One worker, working on state-paid time, wove a bed for a priest of the Temple of Amun. Another, Nebnefer, spent three months fattening the foreman's ox. The stonecutters' wives wove clothes for Paneb and ran his household chores. And the foreman openly had affairs with three of these women—Tuya, Hel, and Ubkhet.

Incidentally, his eldest son, Aapekhte, publicly revealed his father's debauchery, tired of tolerating his father's escapades. He went to the village guards and, under oath to the gods, accused Paneb of fornication. True, Aapekhte himself was not without sin—his father had permitted him to have relations with that same Ubkhet.

At times, Paneb resorted to outright violence. In his book "Affairs and Scandals in Ancient Egypt," the French Egyptologist Pascal Vernus describes an incident in which a scoundrel tore the clothes off a woman named Iyamuau, threw her against a wall, and raped her. Amennakht also writes that Paneb hatched a plan to murder his adoptive father for his position and property:

Of course, he couldn't have defeated nine healthy men alone. So he climbed a high wall and pelted them with stones. This wasn't an isolated incident—Vernus's book mentions Paneb hurling stones at the servants of his neighboring villagers.

Paneb also clashed with other construction supervisors. Once, in the heat of an argument, he shouted at the foreman on the left side: "I'll attack you in the mountains and kill you." Amennacht claims these weren't empty words—Paneb was suspected of several murders in the village.

It would seem things couldn't get any worse. But Paneb is accused of crimes considered particularly grave in his day: sacrilege and tomb robbery. He not only stole materials from tombs under construction but also broke into already sealed graves. His knowledge as a builder greatly aided him in breaking secret passages and locks.

Moreover, the looter didn't even disdain royal burials. From one tomb, he stole part of a chariot, wine, and incense. From the grave of Ramses II's daughter, Paneb took a mummified goose. Why he needed this strange and completely inedible "souvenir" remains anyone's guess.

What's surprising about this story isn't even the sheer number of vices contained within one man. What's astonishing is that Paneb was never punished for any of his crimes—after all, Egyptian law was extremely harsh on tomb robbers and corrupt officials. This is why some researchers suspect Amennakht of deliberately engaging in "black PR."

Neferhotep's younger brother had every reason to hate Paneb. He had treacherously usurped his rightful position, threatened him, and publicly humiliated him. It is known, for example, that Paneb forbade Amennakht and his family from using the communal sanctuary where the workers celebrated holidays. Clearly, this did not foster love between them. Ordinary male envy cannot be ruled out either—Paneb was successful not only at work but also in love, taking several mistresses.

Some Egyptologists doubt the papyrus's authenticity altogether: it lacks the obligatory titles and positions of the vizier to whom the informer is addressing the document. This is a gross violation of etiquette at the time. Perhaps only a copy has survived, and the original never reached its intended recipient.

If the denunciation was genuine, it was of no use to the author. After Paneb, the vizier appointed a completely different man as foreman of the right flank—not from Amennacht's family or one of his supporters.

Paneb's name disappears from all ostraca around 1193–1185 BCE. This could indicate either a natural death or that he finally "played his cards right." A tablet from 1180 BCE mentions the murder of a construction foreman in Deir el-Medina. It is unclear whether this was a lynching or an official execution.

Whether Paneb was a true villain or the victim of an ill-wisher, his story vividly demonstrates that intrigue, vice, and abuse of power are not a modern invention. They have accompanied humanity since the very beginning of civilization. But do you think Paneb should be viewed as an odious psychopath, or is he, in fact, the victim of a black PR campaign?