BREAKING NEWS: The British Museum, empty! Obviously, it isn’t, and that’s the core of the debate. Apart from a few collections, some stuffed animals and scattered paintings, the British Museum, like many others in the United Kingdom and around the world, are crammed full of stolen artefacts – objects stolen during colonial times or from Indigenous communities under the guise of preservation or scholarship.
Increasingly, however, institutions are facing pressure to return these works to their rightful custodians. A recent example is the return of the Ni’isjoohl memorial pole from the National Museum of Scotland to the Nisga’a Nation in Canada’s Nass Valley. The pole, carved in the late 19th century to honour a chief, was removed without consent in 1929. For the Nisga’a people, its return is more than symbolic —it restores a cultural and spiritual link severed for nearly a century.
On the other hand, examples such as the infamous case of the Greek Parthenon frieze (a decorative design element on the exterior of a building) do not enjoy such happy endings. Bought centuries ago by Lord Elgin and cut up to be shipped overseas, a little less than half of this immense Ottoman sculpture is housed in the British Museum. For nearly two centuries, the Greek state has been demanding that the United Kingdom return it, as well as other elements of the Parthenon’s sculpted decoration. Groundless refusals have repeatedly been issued by the British government over a lack of display space, never mind that a new, modern museum has been built in the heart of Athens to await its return. Britain claims it offers ‘better conservation’ of artefacts, even though the most fragile blocks of the frieze still bear visible traces of pollution from Victorian London.
But then why cling with such fervour and with so little ethics to stolen objects? The economic argument kicks in – who would ever visit the British Museum for the sole purpose of admiring the architecture of its empty rooms?
For those among us who are still stubbornly unable to see the point of returning stolen artworks, it is important to remember that, beyond their historical and economic value, these objects carry real cultural, community and even personal significance. Would you like someone to turn up at your house one day and steal Mr Bear, your childhood toy, to put it on a pedestal labelled ‘21st century child’s toy?’ Capitalising on your childhood memories, your life and your personal culture?
I am not in favour of creating a semblance of empathy through allegories of this kind, because basic human decency should be enough to recognise that a people robbed of their culture have the right to reclaim it, and to recover it.
But there is hope, and cases such as the Ni’isjoohl memorial pole highlight a growing recognition that museums must balance their role as guardians of history with respect for cultural sovereignty. Repatriation is not just about correcting the past; it is about repairing relationships and acknowledging the living communities to whom these artworks truly belong.
Otherwise, we will have to give certain countries a taste of their own medicine, and I suggest we start by relocating Big Ben to another continent.
“British Museum Great Court – Explored!” by Biker Jun is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.