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At the Fourth International Congress of Egyptologists, held in Munich in the autumn of 1985, two large red-bound volumes of Labib Habachi's The Sanctuary of Heqaib were on display and a minute's silence was observed in his memory. His death marked the end of an era. Until his last days, whole generations of Egyptologists were indebted to him for his help and expertise, not only on scholarly matters but also in regard to fieldwork. Egyptology has become a specialized science that has fragmented into no fewer than twenty-one categories. One can imagine how heartily Habachi would have approved of the return, through the Recovered Antiquities Department, of artifacts smuggled out of Egypt, and picture his delight at the continued success of exhibitions of Egyptian antiquities abroad.

Habachi and Werner Kaiser shared an interest of the cataract region. Strategically, Elephantine was crucial as it commanded the Nile cataracts and the channels that enabled communication by water between Egypt and its neighborhood. It was the starting point of the great caravan routes, which passed some of the earliest commercial and military expeditions made by Egyptians. Egypt's political boundary with Nubia did not remain static, especially when new territory was incorporated into the Egyptian state. Meanwhile, Habachi lost no time in making his way to the Antiquities Department to retrieve his manuscript. With the stabilization of the Nile, permanent settlements could now be built on the floodplain and agricultural land was lost to urban expansion. The government launched a “green revolution” to make up for this loss.

Labib Habachi lived in two worlds. Habachi marveled as evidence came to light of an ancient town that developed on a mound south of a lake, which provided a harbor through a channel from the Pelusiac branch of the Nile. While he was up to date with the latest techniques in the excavation, documentation, and restoration of monuments, he was critical of overspecialization. Habachi's fascination with Elephantine never diminished. He tried to put right what his observations and instinct, backed by research, convinced him were the “flawed views” of western scholars. It irked him that some of his most insightful conclusions were considered irrelevant.

Habachi agreed on the revision of his Heqaib manuscript, in which Werner Kaiser suggested to include more of his historical background. But Habachi found the task a bit hard. One of the reasons is his health and the other one is his frustration with Gerhardt Haeny. Haeny explained that “in Habachi's time” archaeological fieldwork was concentrated on grand stone temples and funerary monuments with their rich decoration and wealth of inscriptions, which were believed to exemplify the pharaonic civilization. Gerhardt Haeny's first mistake was his assumption that because Labib Habachi was an Egyptologist of an earlier generation, he was of its mindset. Under cover of a letter to Kaiser dated January 2, 1982, Habachi finally dispatched the last revisions to his manuscript on the Sanctuary of Heqaib to the German Archaeological Institute.

Labib Habachi long harbored a wish to keep his personal library of over three thousand books as a unit after his death in order to provide a service to young students of Egyptology. He visualized a special building constructed on the west bank of the Nile at Luxor. Habachi put himself under enormous pressure in the last two years of his life. He was anxious to complete his articles on Rizkallah Makramallah and Zaki Saad for the Coptic Lexicon. Habachi's cycle of despondency was broken when he received invitations by the Austrian and German governments to receive decorations. No one expected him to travel to Europe, but with the foolhardiness of a man of action, he insisted on going. The Labib Habachi Archives in the library are in active use by scholars around the world. Habachi's awards are mounted near the bay window where he worked at a large desk.

The signing of the Anglo-French agreement, the unveiling of the bronze statue of François Auguste Mariette, the bestowing on an Egyptian Egyptologist, Ahmed Kamal, the title of bey on the occasion of his election to membership of the Institut d'Égypte in recognition of his work on the Egyptian Museum catalog are the three events that were celebrated in Egypt in 1904, the year Labib Habachi was born. One of the highlights of that time was when Kamal decided to approach the head of the diwan al-madaris (council of schools) and try to convince him of the need to found a school of Egyptology in Egypt. To place Ahmed Kamal's life in context as a prelude to describing the political and social environment into which Labib Habachi grew up, mention should be made of Lord Cromer's declared aim to help “free Egyptians from the shackles of oriental despotism.”

There was no Egyptian middle class in the sense we know today, in the first half of the twentieth century. A class-conscious nobility, l'ancien régime, woven around the concept of land owning in the nineteenth century, held sway in court and government. There were only the upper class and the farming masses and urban poor who comprised the bulk of the population. The upper class includes educated youths, who are referred to, in Egypt's extended-family system, as shilla—kinsmen. Labib Habachi, an Egyptologist who can express himself well in English, although French was his second language after his native Arabic, is someone who can speak much about these two classes.

Labib Habachi's transformation from a roving inspector into a perceptive Egyptologist came about slowly. As he moved from post to post, he developed a sharp appetite for knowledge, a flair for seeking out archaeological clues, and an eye for an anomaly, whether a subtle change in the color of the soil, a sandy mound in a field, or an object out of context. Habachi early developed a keen sense of social structure. The 'umda in rural areas, like hereditary chiefs in ancient times, had social and legal responsibilities. The gap between foreign and Egyptian Egyptologists grew progressively narrower. The most exceptional of the first generation was Selim Hassan, a disciple of Ahmed Kamal whose career was held up during World War I, when he resorted to secondary school teaching.

Habachi recounted their experience during the excavation and discovery of antiquities. He was very excited because he was armed with all he needed: a site, the money, and the diggers. He was anticipating the idea of finding wonderful things as they dug. The Fayoumis had traveled to Aswan on the night train. Few of the men had ever been so far south and Habachi started the journey with them in the third-class compartment. The fact that Habachi did indeed expect to find wonderful monuments was lost on the men. However, not all the monuments that they expected to find were found. But still, Habachi and his men were hopeful. Later on, his men unearthed the pavement of a chapel containing a portable shrine. Excavation continued, and each day, the diggers were finding several new objects.

Muhammad Eweis responded eagerly to Labib Habachi's call to return to Elephantine. He and his team had carried back to the Fayoum glowing reports of that last outpost on Egyptian soil. Pepinakht-Heqaib's tomb was first identified by Jacques de Morgan in 1894. The titles inscribed on the door jambs describe the nobleman as “hereditary prince and governor, chancellor of the King of Lower Egypt and sole friend, the lector-priest, and overseer of the foreign countries.” The biographical text written on the door jambs of the tomb reveal that his career fell into four phases. Henri Riad recalled Habachi's excitement when he pointed to the hieroglyphics inscribed on the passage leading to the chamber into which he had fallen. After seven years of digging and research, Labib Habachi's manuscript on his excavation of the Sanctuary of Heqaib was finally ready for publication.

The careers of Labib Habachi and Ahmed Fakhry invite comparison. They were born within a year of each other, shared a love of their country and its people, were among the first graduates of Egyptology from Cairo University in 1928, and both voiced grave concern for the preservation of Egypt's ancient monuments. Habachi and Fakhry both realized the rich archaeological potential of their country and voiced concern for its protection. Habachi witnessed damage to monuments from continued urban expansion and road and rail connections in the Delta and made every effort to draw attention to the importance of excavation and documentation “before it was too late.” Fakhry found the desert strewn with surface flints, as well as temples, tombs, ancient towns, and fortresses, and faced the problem of who could sponsor the well-organized expeditions needed to save them.

The Depression, World War II, and the turmoil of the postwar years severely curtailed field archaeology in Egypt. Sidelined from public life, Selim Hassan published vast multi-volume works—Excavations at Giza in English, and a History of Ancient Egypt in Arabic. Sami Gabra presided as dean of the profession, while younger Egyptologists like Ahmad Fakhry and Labib Habachi climbed the career ladders of the Antiquities Service and universities. Under the guidance of Drioton, the last of the French directors of the Egyptian Antiquities Service stretching back to Mariette, King Faruq enthusiastically visited sites, collected antiquities, and subsidized the excavations of Zaki Saad at Helwan out of palace funds. A set of postage stamps depicted the young king as protector of Egyptian heritage from the Pyramids and Islamic monuments through to the Aswan Dam and the Egyptian University. The Museum of Egyptian Civilization opened in 1949 propagated the same message with a similar chronological sweep. In 1951, on the eve of Nasser's revolution, separate crises of decolonization nearly shut down both French and British archaeological activities in Egypt.

The discovery of Tutankhamun's tomb hastened the transformation of Egyptology into a scholarly profession open to Egyptians and accelerated the growth of pharaonism among the public. Led by Selim Hassan and Sami Gabra, the scant second generation of Egyptian Egyptologists came home from studying in Europe in the late 1920s to begin careers in the Antiquities Service and the new state-run Egyptian (now Cairo) University. The university's successful new school of Egyptology soon graduated Ahmad Fakhry and Labib Habachi, who both became prominent among the third generation of Egyptian Egyptologists. In the 1920s, pharaonism—interest and pride in ancient Egypt—became a prominent stand of Egyptian territorial nationalism, with King Fuad, Saad Zaghlul's Wafd, and Liberal Constitutionalist Muhammad Husayn Haykal all competing in utilizing pharaonic themes. In the visual arts, Mahmoud Mukhtar's granite sculpture Nahdat Misr (Revival of Egypt) marked the pharaonist highpoint of the 1920s. Pharaonist themes were also prominent on Egyptian postage stamps but not yet on coins, which are usually a more conservative medium.