Queen-Mother 'Oo?

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"Ya what?"
"Who?"
"Nah!"
are probably the three most common answers you'd get from people exiting the British Museum to the simple question posed by Kwame Opoku's most recent article on the topic of the Benin loot kept there ('Do They Know Queen-Mother Idia?' May 27th 2012).

A recent visit to the British Museum confirmed what we have observed in previous years: many Western visitors to the museum have no specific interest in any particular Benin object, even if they visit the Sainsbury Gallery and look at the Benin Bronzes. They are mostly unaware of the looted Queen-Mother-Idia(“Iyoba”) ivory mask. Have the hundred years of illegal retention of this mask had any effect on the knowledge and interest of the average Western visitor to the museum? It seems hardly any European visitor is even aware that the mask represents an important personality in Benin history. Most Western visitors are certainly unaware of her important and decisive role and influence in stabilizing the Kingdom of Benin during the civil war at the end of the 15th Century, a crucial period in Benin history. 

He goes on:

Contrary to the propaganda of the Declaration on the Importance and Value of Universal Museums, Benin culture has not become part of European heritage and culture even though Benin artefacts have been [...] detained in Western museums for more than hundred years. [...]  Queen-Mother Idia clearly plays no role in the culture, imagination and thinking of Westerners. So why keep her captive in London when she would be a subject of veneration and reverence in her homeland Benin, Nigeria? Why do the British Museum and the British Government still insist on keeping in Britain cultural artefacts of others, against the will of the owners? So far, we have not come across any reasonable justification for such an attitude.

 Opoku concludes that the only real reason that the Brits hang on to stuff like this is to cling to the relics of their own imperial 'glory'. Meanwhile another part of the Post-Enlightenment British Museum:

 Greek tragedy in the British Museum (Portableantiquities photostream on Flickr)

As ian Richardson reports, apparently approvingly ('Medieval Late at the British Museum), the Post-Enlightemnent today relies on edutaining gimmicks:

The Mausoleum of Halikarnassos gallery (Room 2) with its two specially-lit colossal statues formed the stage for a young acting troupe’s twist on Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, which was seen by an overflowing crowd of onlookers. Even a presentation on the art of medieval hairdressing for film and theatre was given a dramatic location in front of the Nereid Monument in Room 17.

So I suppose this is the cultural mix-and-match of the Universal Museum in practice. Most "enlightening" I am sure. Was this what these sculted stones were transported across an entire continent to London for? To provide a "cultcheral-innit" backdrop to some tomfoolery that could have been done equally artistically in a shopping mall? What does the bloke with a cycling helmet on his head add to anyone's appreciation of the statues from Halicarnassus. That is Bodrum, Turkey. Maybe they should go back too to where they might be subjected to fewer indignities than they do in the BM's peculiar brand of dumb-down "outreach".

Observer on The Parthenon Marbles

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Henry Porter ('The Greeks gave us the Olympics. Let them have their marbles', Observer 20 May 2012) thinks the Parthenon Marbles should go back to Greece.  On a recent visit to the Duveen gallery which houses these sawn-off bits of an Athens building he notes that:

The only allusion to the controversy of the continued presence in this country that I could find in the museum was a notice near the entrance to the Duveen Gallery. "Elgin's removal of the sculptures from the ruins of the building has always been a matter for discussion," it says with a dry little cough before briskly moving on. "But one thing is certain – his actions spared them further damage by vandalism, weathering and pollution."[...] it's hard to fathom a logic that suggests that the advantages of this order of pillage include saving the sculptures from vandalism. That would justify cutting a section of Botticelli's Birth of Venus from its frame to preserve it from any future vandals. 

But this "rescuing the past" excuse is so often used by artefact hunters and collectors everywhere, and regardless of the true facts, to justify what they do - however dubious that is from other points of view. The Parthenon marbles "represent the core of Greek civilisation, and they are the beating heart of modern Greek identity" says Porter:

And, as important, the sculptures really represent half the building that was constructed between 447BC and 432BC to mark the defeat of the Persians by Athens. If you ask the people who argue passionately for retention when they last went to see the marbles, it is striking how few have been in the past five years. It seems to be simply a matter of patriotic possession to them, rather than any great love of art. And talking of possession, they always tend to forget that the sculptures were prised from the Parthenon when the Turks ruled the Greeks, and they could not defend the emblems of their glorious past. [...] To weigh the issue, you need only ask yourself if Elgin's behaviour would be acceptable today. Of course it wouldn't, and nor would we expect to keep the result of such looting. So why do we hold on to these ill-gotten sculptures now? [...] we should begin to address a simple truth: the Parthenon marbles are not ours to keep.

Photo:  The British Museum's Parthenon marbles as a setting for Children's play. Photograph: Richard Baker/Corbis.

Turkey's Cultural Property Repatriation Drive

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The Economist looks at Turkey’s cultural ambitions as it "launches a new culture war" and "gets tough with foreign museums" holding  stuff looted from Turkey ('Of Marbles and Men', May 19th 2012): 

The mildly Islamist government of Recep Tayyip Erdogan, led by the Justice and Development (AK) party, likes to think of itself as the heir of the Ottoman sultans. The Turkish authorities have recently launched a wave of cultural expansionism, building new museums, repairing Ottoman remains, licensing fresh archaeological excavations and spending more on the arts. A grand museum in the capital, Ankara, is due to open in time for the centenary of the Turkish republic in 2023. “It will be the biggest museum in Turkey, one of the largest in Europe; an encyclopedic museum like the Metropolitan or the British Museum (BM),” boasts an aide to Ertugrul Gunay, the culture and tourism minister. “It’s his baby, his most precious project.” Turkey’s cultural plans at home are coupled with an unprecedentedly bold campaign to bring back treasures that it believes were stolen, which now sit in Western museums. These plans enjoy political support across the spectrum and the backing of all Turkey’s museum directors. The campaign targets many more objects and museums than the government has so far let on. “We are not waging a battle,” says Mr Gunay. “But this is definitely a struggle in the field of culture. And we are determined to boost our efforts in a more determined and more persistent way.”

It would be interesting to see  from the collectors currently decrying Turkey's efforts to repatriate stolen artefacts a reasoned argument why Turkey should not build a Universal Museum. Why should they be restricted to just a few nations ? And maybe Turkey deserves one:

Growing economic power and stalled talks over EU membership make many Turks feel that it is time to turn their backs on the West. Amid the turmoil of the Arab spring Turkey believes it can become the leader of the region.

The Economist's journalist is clearly on the side of the rich western museums and collectors, referring to the fact that stuff was ripped off and ripped up in the nineteenth century saved them:

removed treasures they believed might be at risk from war and insurrection, and gave them to the new European museums. Foreign scholars saved a considerable number of Turkish artefacts from being commercially looted or destroyed by invading armies. This is rarely mentioned in Turkey’s discussions about its archaeological past.

So looting stuff for yourself to "save' the objects from being looted by somebody else? That's the old metal detectorists' argument too. The economist grudgingly points out that "though Turkey passed a law in 1884 (updated in 1906) stating that all antiquities were the property of the state and could not be taken out of the country, this was only loosely enforced" and looters helped themselves to what they fancied. They present it as going back on some form of gentlemen's agreement that the Turkish government today "argues that any object without the correct permissions or with gaps in its provenance has been stolen and so belongs to Turkey".

The article gives its readers some details of some recent demands:
The Weary Hercules (returned to Turkey from BMFA in September 2011)
The Hattusas sphinx sent back after May 2011 from the Pergamon Museum,
Metropolitan Museum of Art (September 2011),

The Samsat Stela in the British Museum,

Turkey has many other museums in its sights. A list of artworks being sought abroad indicates the culture ministry has made similar demands of the Louvre, the Pergamon, London’s Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A), the Gulbenkian Museum in Lisbon, the Davids Samling Museum in Denmark, the Dumbarton Oaks Museum in Washington, DC, the Cleveland Museum of Art and the Getty. It has also claimed stolen antiquities that have been seized by police in Frankfurt, Florence, Bulgaria, Switzerland and Scotland.

It seems Ertugrul Gunay could soon be taking the place in the Cultural Property Repatriation drive that  was (is?) occupied by Egypt's Zahi Hawass. His ministry is beefing up its anti-smuggling and intelligence bureau, and will soon add criminal and legal units to its task force. Gunay explained: “I wholeheartedly believe that each and every antiquity in any part of the world should eventually go back to its homeland. Even if these objects are made of stone, just as people have souls, so do animals, plants and monuments. Taking a monument away destabilises the world and is disrespectful to history”. It seems his stance has a lot of support in today's Turkey.

The Economist sees a problem for the position of those holding artefacts from Turkey:

Turkey is convinced of the justice of its quest. Moreover the culture ministry lumps together objects that were smuggled out of the country illegally with those that were removed—perhaps legally to a place of greater safety, but not provably so—in an era when ownership was judged in a looser way. For Turkey, all of these objects were stolen. It is determined to get them back. [...] counting any object acquired without a distinct contract as stolen should alarm museums everywhere.

The fact that Turkey seems to be treating cases in the same manner whether they are pre-1970 or post-1970 (which of course is its sovereign right to do - especially in the light of the 1884 law) means that it lays its own museums open to similar claims. During the period of the Ottoman Empire, a number of important antiquities were taken (the Economist suggests they were all "forcibly removed") to central museums in what is now Turkey, and thus taken from their homelands which are today separate countries.


Photo: Ertugrul Gunay, the Turkish culture and tourism minister.

The Background to the Benin Punitive Expedition

Michael Yates has written an article on Kunstpedia concerning matters that lead to the removal of the Benin bronzes from the Oba’s palace in the 19th century. He says he has tried to give an objective account without wanting to see events only from a British viewpoint, and indeed his version differs from those traditional in the discussion. What he does however is concentrate on the ambush of 4th January, 1897, rather than the details of the Punitive Expedition, and it is the latter which is in question in discussions of the repatriation issue.

I found the discussion of the BM selling off (deaccessioning) some of the objects rather interesting in the light of their arguments that British law does not allow them to deaccession items from their collections.

See also: Karen Mercury, 'Expansion & Invasion: The Benin Punitive Expedition', Unusual Historicals


Vignette: Harry Rawson, commander of the punitive expedition. 

Nefertiti's bust, time to go home?

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Wafaa El-Seddiq head of the International Union for the Preservation of Heritage and former director of the Egyptian Museum asks why the famous bust of Queen Nefertiti is still in Germany. This is by far one of the best written and persuasively argued accounts from the Egyptian side which I have seen in a long time.
Nefertiti's bust, time to come home? Al-Ahram Weekly, Issue No. 1094, 19 - 25 April 2012

Sothebys insists Cambodian statue was not stolen

Sotheby's said it had been in "active discussions" with the U.S. and Cambodian governments over the ancient Cambodian statue of a warrior ("Duryodhana") which was taken stolen from the Prasat Chen temple at Koh Ker in Cambodia and that the result was "disappointing".

The 10th century statue was broken off at the base and apparently smuggled out of Cambodia early in the 1970s. The government of Cambodia regards the statue as stolen, and wants it back. It had been consigned to Sotheby’s for sale by a Belgian collector and had been set for auction in New York in March 2011 but was abruptly pulled from the market at the last minute after Cambodia claimed ownership. Strong evidence indicates it was plundered during the upheavals of the Cambodian civil war in the 1970s. Its pedestal — and that of a matching statue now at the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena, Calif. — was found at Koh Ker, a site about 80 miles northeast of Angkor Wat. The claim that the 'Belgian-collector/Sotheby's' statue was looted during the Cambodian civil war rests partly on findings by a French archaeologist, Eric Bourdonneau, who reported that the work had been seen in place as recently as the 1960s, that a road built after 1965 provided the first easy access to the site, and that the piece did not appear on the art market until its first known sale in Britain in 1975.

Sotheby's denied doing anything wrong, saying it "strongly disputes the allegations". "This sculpture, which had been in the possession of a good faith owner who obtained good title almost 40 years ago, was legally imported into the United States and all relevant facts were openly declared," the auction house said. "We have researched this sculpture extensively and have never seen nor been presented with any evidence that specifies when the sculpture left Cambodia over the last 1,000 years nor is there any such evidence in this complaint," it added.

It's legal innit? What does it mean "in good faith"? How can you buy something, identifiably (by style) from Cambodia, freshly broken off at the bottom, from a country where the news is full of reports every day of the brutal war going on there? How can it be a "good faith" purchase if the seller does not say how and when it left the country where it was obtained? Where there is no export licence? I fail to see how that actually qualifies as a good faith purchase any more than a cheap IPad in its original box ("only a little shop soiled") but no documentation bought from a guy ("he looked decent enough, in a suit, not a hoodie") two days after the London riots.

Norton Simon had no illusions what he was buying. According to an article in the "Chasing Aphrodite" blog he was under no illusions about the illicit origins of his impressive collection of Asian art which today is a highlight of his Pasadena museum. As a serious US collector it seems he felt himself above such niceties as laws:

In a 1973 article headlined “Norton Simon Bought Smuggled Idol,” the New York Times asked Simon about a bronze Hindu deity of Siva he had just purchased for $1 million. India claimed it had been ripped from a temple and smuggled out of the country. His answer:

“Hell, yes, it was smuggled,” said Mr. Simon in a telephone interview. “I spent between $15- and $16-million over the last two years on Asian Art and most of it was smuggled. I don’t know whether it was stolen.”

The same would appear to apply to the Khmer temple guardian that he bought three years later from a  New York dealer William H. Wolff.

So, we are asked to believe that the worldly Norton Simon accepted that he was buying illicit goods, but the more naive Belgian collector who was active over the other side of the Atlantic really had no idea. Can one have "good title" to such an object without having any document which shows that at the time of purchase permission had been given for the sawing (or breaking) off of an element of temple sculpture and exporting it? Or did the buyer assume that since there was a war going on, no such document was necessary?


Ralph Blumental, Tom Mashberg, 'Officials Are Set to Seize Antiquity', New York Times April 4, 2012.

Brigitte Dusseau, 'Sothebys insists Cambodian statue was not stolen', AFP, April 13, 2012

Kwame Opoku comments on Return to Namibia of Skulls by Germany

Namibia: Return of Stolen Skulls by Germany - Closure of a Horrible Chapter?
By Kwame Opoku, 22 March 2012

Vernichtungsbefehl (Extermination Order) by the German commander, General Lothar von Trotha (October 1904):

Ich, der große General der deutschen Soldaten, sende diesen Brief an das Volk der Herero. Die Hereros sind nicht mehr deutsche Untertanen. Sie haben gemordet und gestohlen, haben verwundeten Soldaten Ohren und Nasen und andere Körperteile abgeschnitten, und wollen jetzt aus Feigheit nicht mehr kämpfen. [...] Das Volk der Herero muß jedoch das Land verlassen. Wenn das Volk dies nicht tut, so werde ich es mit dem Groot Rohr dazu zwingen. Innerhalb der Deutschen Grenze wird jeder Herero mit und ohne Gewehr, mit oder ohne Vieh erschossen, ich nehme keine Weiber und Kinder mehr auf, treibe sie zu ihrem Volke zurück oder lasse auf sie schießen. Dies sind meine Worte an das Volk der Hereros.

"The return of the 20 skulls surely cannot be a symbolic closure of a tragic chapter in the history of Germany and Namibia. At best, the handing over could be regarded as a symbolic beginning of a process that may close this incredible chapter of cruelty and criminality organised by a European state against African peoples. German rule in South West Africa (1884-1915) was marked by singular brutality, disregard of the human rights of Namibians, confiscation of land and cattle, coupled with exploitation of the human and material resources of the vast colony. The massacres of the Herero and the Nama were the first genocides of the 20th century..."