The road to suffering is often paved with good intentions
For millennia, ancient Egyptians elevated animals to the threshold of the divine, believing their bodies carried the presence of gods. Yet bones unearthed at Saqqara and Thebes tell a quieter, more sorrowful story: that reverence, however sincere, does not always translate into understanding, and that the sacred and the suffering can inhabit the same creature at once. A new study of mummified baboons — transported at great cost from Sudan and Arabia to serve as living offerings — reveals lives marked by rickets, malnutrition, and confinement, casualties not of cruelty but of ignorance dressed in devotion.
- Baboons born in Egyptian captivity displayed nearly universal signs of bone disease, deformed limbs, and metabolic illness — their bodies quietly testifying to lives of deprivation behind temple walls.
- The animals were brought from Sudan and Arabia at enormous logistical effort, only to be fed monotonous scraps and confined in enclosed spaces to prevent their escape, their wild natures working against them.
- Researchers found no evidence of deliberate abuse — the Egyptians genuinely believed they were honoring these creatures — yet good intentions produced conditions that systematically destroyed the animals' health.
- The scale of the problem stretches far beyond baboons: millions of mummified animals across Egypt suggest this pattern of well-meaning but harmful captivity may have been the norm rather than the exception.
- The study forces a reckoning with how religious systems can sanctify suffering without ever intending to, raising urgent questions about what reverence truly requires of those who practice it.
The ancient Egyptians held animals in a kind of theological awe that puzzled even their Roman contemporaries. At Saqqara, a vast necropolis south of Cairo, priests helped pilgrims mummify millions of creatures — cats, dogs, ibis, beetles — as offerings meant to secure divine favor. The bones left behind, however, tell a story of lives far removed from the sacred status these animals were meant to embody.
A study published in PLoS One focused on thirty-six baboons excavated near ancient Thebes, representing two species — the hamadryas baboon and the olive baboon — neither native to Egypt. The olive baboons had been brought downriver from Sudan; the hamadryas arrived from southern Arabia, crossing the Red Sea and desert roads. The journey was arduous. What awaited them was worse.
Scientists could distinguish wild-born animals from those born in captivity, and the captive-born told the grimmer story. Nearly all showed osteoarthritis, rickets, malformed teeth, and deformed limbs — the consequences of poor diet and chronic sunlight deprivation. Confined in high-walled enclosures to contain their strength and agility, they likely survived on hardened bread, a pale substitute for the varied diet of their natural habitat.
The researchers were careful to note the absence of deliberate cruelty. The Egyptians, they concluded, simply did not know how to care for these animals. The reverence was real — each species was believed to carry a fragment of divine presence, connecting ordinary people to gods otherwise locked away in temple sanctuaries. Baboons, cats, ibis, and dogs each embodied a deity, and their mummified remains were interred with ceremony in sacred catacombs.
That accessibility made animal cults enormously popular, democratizing religious life in a world where the gods were otherwise remote. But the cost was borne entirely by the animals themselves — creatures venerated in death, and quietly diminished in life, by the very devotion meant to honor them.
The ancient Egyptians revered animals with such fervor that even the Romans found it absurd. Juvenal, writing in his Satires, mocked the practice: entire Egyptian cities worshipped crocodiles, serpentine ibis, cats, river fish, and dogs as divine beings. Yet a new study of mummified remains tells a starkly different story about how these sacred creatures actually lived.
At Saqqara, a sprawling necropolis thirty kilometers south of Cairo, archaeologists have been excavating the bones of animals that were bred, kept, and ultimately sacrificed by the thousands. The site served as a vast religious complex where priests helped pilgrims mummify animals as offerings meant to secure divine protection and eternal life for the dead. The scale was enormous—millions of creatures, from cats and dogs to ibis and beetles, were processed through this system. What the bones reveal is troubling: the animals suffered from fractures, diseases, and signs of confinement that suggest they lived in poor conditions, crowded together and inadequately cared for.
A recent study published in PLoS One examined thirty-six baboons unearthed at Gabbanat el-Qurud, near the ancient city of Thebes. The researchers analyzed remains from two species—the hamadryas baboon and the olive baboon—animals that did not naturally inhabit Egypt. The olive baboons had been transported from what is now Sudan, traveling downriver along the Nile. The hamadryas baboons came from southern Arabia, requiring a more arduous journey across the Red Sea and desert roads. Yet once they arrived, their lives deteriorated sharply.
By examining the bones, scientists could distinguish between animals born in the wild and those born in captivity. One female hamadryas showed signs of having been captured at age two and dying at eight; her skeleton bore the marks of intense stress from capture. But the baboons born in captivity told a grimmer tale. Nearly all of them displayed osteoarthritis, rickets, malformed teeth, deformed limbs and faces, and various metabolic diseases. The cause was straightforward: inadequate diet and deprivation of sunlight. The animals likely subsisted on scraps like hardened bread, a monotonous fare compared to the varied diet they would have found in nature. Baboons are aggressive and skilled climbers, so their keepers probably confined them in high-walled or enclosed spaces to prevent escape.
The researchers emphasized to CNN that there was no evidence of deliberate physical abuse. The Egyptians were not intentionally cruel; rather, they simply lacked the knowledge to care for these animals properly. As the study authors put it, while the Egyptians tried to show reverence and care, they inadvertently created conditions that harmed the animals' health and survival. The road to suffering, they noted, is often paved with good intentions.
The religious framework that drove this practice was deeply rooted in Egyptian theology. Animals were believed to possess supernatural powers that granted them intimate access to the gods. Cats embodied Bastet, goddess of love and beauty. Dogs and other canines connected to Anubis, god of cemeteries and embalming, because they were drawn to the smell of flesh at mummification sites. Birds of prey linked to the sun god because they soared high and their eyes resembled the celestial body. The sacred ibis represented Thoth, god of writing and wisdom, because its beak resembled a reed pen. Egyptians believed each god could manifest in an animal during life, and after death, the divine spirit would transfer to another member of the same species. These animals were then mummified and buried in catacombs with great ceremony.
This system democratized religion in a profound way. Living animals provided ordinary people with a more accessible connection to the divine than the god statues locked away in temples. Through animals, Egyptians could forge a direct, intimate relationship with their deities. That accessibility likely contributed to the enormous popularity of these cults. Yet the price was paid by the creatures themselves—millions of them, across centuries, living and dying in conditions their captors neither understood nor could adequately manage.
Notable Quotes
While the Egyptians tried to show reverence and care, they inadvertently created conditions that harmed the animals' health and survival.— Study authors, speaking to CNN
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why would the Egyptians go to such lengths to bring baboons from Sudan and Arabia if they didn't know how to care for them?
Because the animals themselves were the point. A baboon wasn't just a baboon—it was a living conduit to the divine. The effort to acquire them was part of the religious devotion. They believed the god's spirit could inhabit the animal, so the animal's origin and authenticity mattered.
But couldn't they have learned? Surely after the first generation of sick baboons, someone would have noticed the pattern.
You'd think so. But the system was built on theological certainty, not empirical observation. If a baboon got rickets, that wasn't a sign of poor care—it was just what happened. The animal still got mummified and buried. The ritual was complete. There was no feedback loop demanding better conditions.
So the suffering was almost invisible to them.
Exactly. The bones tell us what the Egyptians couldn't see. They saw sacred animals. They saw successful offerings. They didn't see—or couldn't see—the malnutrition, the confined spaces, the absence of sunlight. The reverence was genuine. The harm was unintentional. That's what makes it so poignant.
Does the study suggest this happened at other sites too?
Almost certainly. Saqqara alone held millions of mummified animals. If baboons at one site were suffering like this, you have to assume the pattern repeated across Egypt. We're probably looking at a civilization-wide phenomenon of well-meaning cruelty.