Last semester, I had the opportunity to study museums in Oxford, England, through one of Asbury’s affiliate semester abroad programs. One of these was the Pitt Rivers Museum, which holds over 500,000 objects. The rooms are so jam-packed with artifacts that I could have camped out there for a whole week and still not have examined every object. The first time that I visited the museum was to explore it on my own, and I wandered through the aisles of objects in total awe.
The second time I went was for my class, and I was challenged to examine the museum with the conversations around restitution in mind. The same objects that had first inspired wonder and fascination for me started to look more like bleak representations of a dark history of British conquest and colonialism. With that shift in perspective, stacks upon stacks of glass cabinets filled with too many objects for any one visitor to comprehend started to look like excessive expressions of greed.
Many of the artifacts held in anthropological museums have a difficult history. Some were stolen from their original owners, some were seized by imperial authorities and others were taken through illegal trade, coercion and deception. As a result, various countries, people groups and individuals have discovered objects in these museums that they believe originally belonged to their ancestors and have made claims for repatriation.
Museum directors are sometimes hesitant to return the objects in instances where the claims could be false. But even when claims can be verified, there are still arguments made against their return.
One argument against repatriation has been that the museums may have the resources and knowledge to take better care of these objects and to protect them from damage. However, the assumption that a Western museum can care for historical artifacts better than the artifact’s country of origin reeks of the same colonial mindset that justified taking the artifacts in the first place.
A well-known example of how this assumption can cause harm is the British Museum’s possession of the Parthenon Marbles, which were removed from Athens in the early 1800s. In order to whiten the marbles for display, the museum scraped off their honey-colored natural coating. This procedure stripped the marbles of unique artistic details and lessened the strength of the structure. Not only did the museum sterilize a culturally significant item, they also caused physical damage to the marbles.
The amount of time that has passed is another significant factor in decisions of what should be returned and what should not. Organizations such as the United Nations (UN) Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization have helped to pass laws in about half of the nations in the UN against modern cases of looting and illegal trade of historical artifacts. Laws like these provide clarity in repatriation cases that stem from recent events. There is often more of a grey area in cases that date back centuries.
The problem with trying to base restitution decisions on dates is that timelines for these objects do not hold the same significance in every culture. The history of a Maasai object collection in the Pitt Rivers Museum is an example of this. What the museum owners saw as five interesting artifacts that were collected at some point in history were objects that still held significance to the Maasai people. Despite being lost decades before, the people believed that the loss of the objects was still causing harm across generations, resulting in tragedies like stillborn babies and mass cattle deaths.
Laura V. Broekhoven, director of the Pitt Rivers Museum, explained the significance in an interview with Returning Heritage. Because the five objects were stolen, each was similar to “a dead ancestor.”
For people like myself who don’t experience this level of importance tied to objects in our own cultures, it can’t possibly be right to claim that we know what’s best for these types of artifacts. I don’t believe that it’s ethical for a collection of stolen objects to be kept from the group making repatriation claims on the basis of preservation, timeline or the quest for knowledge. Insisting on the right to hold onto stolen objects is culturally ignorant and insensitive to the histories that museums claim to honor.
The response of the Pitt Rivers Museum in this case showed an example of a more sensitive and collaborative way to move forward. When representatives from the Maasai group brought the issue to the museum’s attention, Broekhoven and other employees of the museum allowed the representatives to lead a process of restoration through ceremonies of mourning in Kenya and Tanzania. The delegates then decided to let the objects stay at the museum– partially for educational purposes, but also because of the nature of the objects’ deaths.
A statement from the museum explained: “The objects are considered as warriors and in Maasai tradition, when a warrior dies, they are not brought back home, but are buried on the battlefield.”
An institution of discovery for one person is a battlefield for another. If a group claims that a display holds significance, we need to listen. While it may cost museums financially to accept repatriation claims, I believe that it’s more important to restore what has been stolen whenever it’s possible. How the objects are cared for and displayed after their return is, frankly, none of our business. They were never ours to be concerned about in the first place.
Photo courtesy of Oxford Magazine.
Museums, repatriation and moving forward together
Last semester, I had the opportunity to study museums in Oxford, England, through one of Asbury’s affiliate semester abroad programs. One of these was the Pitt Rivers Museum, which holds over 500,000 objects. The rooms are so jam-packed with artifacts that I could have camped out there for a whole week and still not have examined every object. The first time that I visited the museum was to explore it on my own, and I wandered through the aisles of objects in total awe.
The second time I went was for my class, and I was challenged to examine the museum with the conversations around restitution in mind. The same objects that had first inspired wonder and fascination for me started to look more like bleak representations of a dark history of British conquest and colonialism. With that shift in perspective, stacks upon stacks of glass cabinets filled with too many objects for any one visitor to comprehend started to look like excessive expressions of greed.
Many of the artifacts held in anthropological museums have a difficult history. Some were stolen from their original owners, some were seized by imperial authorities and others were taken through illegal trade, coercion and deception. As a result, various countries, people groups and individuals have discovered objects in these museums that they believe originally belonged to their ancestors and have made claims for repatriation.
Museum directors are sometimes hesitant to return the objects in instances where the claims could be false. But even when claims can be verified, there are still arguments made against their return.
One argument against repatriation has been that the museums may have the resources and knowledge to take better care of these objects and to protect them from damage. However, the assumption that a Western museum can care for historical artifacts better than the artifact’s country of origin reeks of the same colonial mindset that justified taking the artifacts in the first place.
A well-known example of how this assumption can cause harm is the British Museum’s possession of the Parthenon Marbles, which were removed from Athens in the early 1800s. In order to whiten the marbles for display, the museum scraped off their honey-colored natural coating. This procedure stripped the marbles of unique artistic details and lessened the strength of the structure. Not only did the museum sterilize a culturally significant item, they also caused physical damage to the marbles.
The amount of time that has passed is another significant factor in decisions of what should be returned and what should not. Organizations such as the United Nations (UN) Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization have helped to pass laws in about half of the nations in the UN against modern cases of looting and illegal trade of historical artifacts. Laws like these provide clarity in repatriation cases that stem from recent events. There is often more of a grey area in cases that date back centuries.
The problem with trying to base restitution decisions on dates is that timelines for these objects do not hold the same significance in every culture. The history of a Maasai object collection in the Pitt Rivers Museum is an example of this. What the museum owners saw as five interesting artifacts that were collected at some point in history were objects that still held significance to the Maasai people. Despite being lost decades before, the people believed that the loss of the objects was still causing harm across generations, resulting in tragedies like stillborn babies and mass cattle deaths.
Laura V. Broekhoven, director of the Pitt Rivers Museum, explained the significance in an interview with Returning Heritage. Because the five objects were stolen, each was similar to “a dead ancestor.”
For people like myself who don’t experience this level of importance tied to objects in our own cultures, it can’t possibly be right to claim that we know what’s best for these types of artifacts. I don’t believe that it’s ethical for a collection of stolen objects to be kept from the group making repatriation claims on the basis of preservation, timeline or the quest for knowledge. Insisting on the right to hold onto stolen objects is culturally ignorant and insensitive to the histories that museums claim to honor.
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The response of the Pitt Rivers Museum in this case showed an example of a more sensitive and collaborative way to move forward. When representatives from the Maasai group brought the issue to the museum’s attention, Broekhoven and other employees of the museum allowed the representatives to lead a process of restoration through ceremonies of mourning in Kenya and Tanzania. The delegates then decided to let the objects stay at the museum– partially for educational purposes, but also because of the nature of the objects’ deaths.
A statement from the museum explained: “The objects are considered as warriors and in Maasai tradition, when a warrior dies, they are not brought back home, but are buried on the battlefield.”
An institution of discovery for one person is a battlefield for another. If a group claims that a display holds significance, we need to listen. While it may cost museums financially to accept repatriation claims, I believe that it’s more important to restore what has been stolen whenever it’s possible. How the objects are cared for and displayed after their return is, frankly, none of our business. They were never ours to be concerned about in the first place.
Photo courtesy of Oxford Magazine.