The Historian’s Question: Where exactly is the ‘British’ Museum?

MOLA, the online Museum of Looted Antiquities

It was a balmy afternoon when I found myself accompanying the artist Abul Kalam Azad on a visit to renowned Indian Marxist historian Prof. K.N. Panikkar’s home in Trivandrum. As an enthusiast of history and culture, I was thrilled to be in the presence of such intellectual giants. Little did I know that this visit would leave an indelible mark on my understanding of cultural heritage and museum ethics.

K. N. Panikkar, born April 26, 1936, in Guruvayoor, Kerala, is associated with the Marxist school of historiography. He has written and edited numerous books, including “A Concerned Indian’s Guide to Communalism” and the ICHR volume “Towards Freedom, 1940: A Documentary History of the Freedom Struggle.” In 2010, he launched Indian Ruminations, an online portal in English, publishing literature and journalistic writings.

Stepping into Panikkar’s study was like entering a time capsule. Books lined every wall, their musty scent a testament to countless preserved ideas. As we settled into creaking chairs, our conversation naturally gravitated towards the role of museums in India, focusing on photography.

Abul’s artistic perspective and Panikkar’s historical insight painted a stark picture of concern. We discussed how the majority of India’s visual history, captured through British lenses, now resides in foreign archives. The transition from analogue to digital photography, Abul lamented, had led to the disposal of countless negatives – irreplaceable windows into post-independent India, now lost forever. The contemporary scenario, we agreed, was equally troubling. In a rapidly changing India, there seemed to be a glaring lack of effort to document our evolving landscape and culture. Meanwhile, globalization threatened to erase the last vestiges of our diverse, pluralistic past.

Leaning forward, a mischievous glint in his eye, Panikkar said, “Let me tell you about a visit I once made to the British Museum.” The room fell silent, all of us eager to hear what wisdom the venerated historian was about to impart.

He recounted his experience as a delegate to the British Museum, where the director himself had given him a grand tour. They traversed hall after hall, each brimming with treasures from far-flung corners of the globe. The director, Panikkar told us, pointed out artifacts from Egypt, Greece, India, and numerous other civilizations, explaining their origins with unbridled enthusiasm.

As they concluded the tour, the director turned to Panikkar, pride evident in his voice, and asked, “So, Professor Panikkar, what do you think of our British Museum?”

Panikkar, with a subtle smile playing on his lips, replied, “It’s truly impressive. But I must ask, where exactly is the ‘British’ museum?”

We erupted in laughter, but beneath our amusement, the weight of Panikkar’s question hung heavy in the air. It was a masterful critique of the complex and often controversial history of many world-renowned museum collections.

Years later, as I learned about the new digital Museum of Looted Antiquities (MOLA), accessible at https://mola.omeka.net, Panikkar’s pointed question came rushing back to me. This innovative online platform is dedicated to documenting and showcasing repatriated cultural artifacts, addressing the very issues Panikkar had so cleverly highlighted that day in his study.

MOLA’s case studies bring to life the intricate web of acquisition, smuggling, and repatriation that many artifacts have undergone. One such case involves a Stele of Rishbhanata, seized by federal agents from Christie’s New York in March 2016. The investigation began with a search of Manhattan dealer Subhash Kapoor’s storage facility, where officials discovered images of stolen antiquities. The stele’s journey included a stint in the Lahiri Collection and an attempted sale at Christie’s, with a falsified provenance claiming it was “acquired in London by 1999.”

Another compelling case featured on MOLA is the 1973 dispute over a stolen Nataraja, which marked one of the earliest restitution agreements between a source country and an American museum. This 10th-century bronze, discovered in Tamil Nadu in 1951, was illegally removed and sold to the Norton Simon Foundation. The ensuing legal battle, involving courts in California and pressure on authorities in the UK, ultimately led to an out-of-court settlement. The Nataraja was returned to India and now resides in the Kapaleeswarar Temple in Chennai.

These cases underscore the complexity of the issues surrounding cultural artifacts and their rightful ownership. Interestingly, the British Museum itself has begun to acknowledge these complexities. Their online site now states: “Objects have been acquired in a variety of ways. Some objects are subject to questions about, or requests for, return to other countries.” This careful wording hints at the ongoing debates surrounding the provenance of many museum pieces.

There were many ways through which artworks and valuable treasures were shipped out of India and other countries. Some items in major museums were appropriated during wars and colonization periods, while at other times, they were bought or gifted. Often, the archaeologists involved in finding the artwork were also the main contact points for selling them elsewhere. While it remains true that many assets were preserved because of the conservation quality of developed nations, these cultural assets still represent the pride and heritage of their nations of origin and should be returned.

MOLA places the contentious histories of its artifacts at the forefront. Each virtual exhibit not only displays the artifact but also unravels its journey from creation to repatriation, exposing the networks of antiquities smuggling along the way.

As we delve deeper into MOLA’s digital archives, the scale and complexity of the issue become increasingly apparent. The platform offers a wealth of case studies that illustrate the global nature of antiquities trafficking and the ongoing efforts to repatriate cultural heritage. Here are a few more examples that underscore the importance of this work:

1. The Cymbal-Playing Celestial: This 10th-century sandstone sculpture from Cambodia was looted from Koh Ker in the 1970s. It passed through the hands of a Thai trader before being sold to an American collector. The statue was eventually repatriated to Cambodia in 2017 after a lengthy legal process.

2. Etruscan Terracotta Antefixes: A set of architectural decorations from 6th-century BCE Italy were illegally excavated and smuggled out of the country. They were seized by U.S. authorities from a New York gallery in 2016 and returned to Italy, highlighting the ongoing issue of looted archaeological sites.

3. The Vrindavani Vastra: This 17th-century Assamese textile, depicting scenes from the life of Krishna, was stolen from a monastery in Assam, India. It resurfaced at the Drouot auction house in Paris in 2016 and was subsequently repatriated to India after intervention by Interpol.

4. Roman-era Coins from Bulgaria: A collection of over 20,000 ancient coins was seized by Canadian authorities in 2019. The coins, dating from the 2nd to 4th centuries CE, were illegally excavated from archaeological sites in Bulgaria and represent one of the largest repatriations of cultural property to the country.

5. Nigerian Terracotta Sculptures: A group of Nok and Sokoto terracotta figures, some dating back to 900 BCE, were seized by French customs officials in 2016. These artifacts, illegally exported from Nigeria, shed light on the ongoing challenges in protecting Africa’s cultural heritage.

These examples paint a vivid picture of the global scale of antiquities trafficking. They span continents and centuries, from ancient Roman coins to medieval Indian bronzes to relatively recent Cambodian sculptures. Each case represents not just a physical object, but a piece of cultural identity and historical narrative that was displaced.

The MOLA platform, by meticulously documenting these cases, serves multiple crucial functions. It acts as an educational tool, raising awareness about the issue of looted antiquities. It provides a resource for researchers and legal professionals working on repatriation cases. Perhaps most importantly, it stands as a testament to the ongoing efforts to right historical wrongs and return cultural heritage to its rightful custodians.

As we reflect on these cases, Panikkar’s question – “Where exactly is the ‘British’ museum?” – takes on new layers of meaning. It challenges us to consider not just the British Museum, but all institutions and collectors worldwide who possess artifacts of questionable provenance. It prompts us to envision a future where museums are not defined by their ability to accumulate treasures from around the world, but by their commitment to ethical stewardship and cultural exchange.

The digital Museum of Looted Antiquities, with its growing database of repatriated objects, represents a step towards this future. It embodies the spirit of Panikkar’s inquiry, pushing us to question, to investigate, and ultimately to restore. As we continue to grapple with the complex legacies of colonialism and cultural appropriation, initiatives like MOLA offer a path forward – one that honors the true origins of our shared global heritage.