More on Battles and Cultural Heritage

I read an article this morning about the unrest in Syria, home to some of the world's oldest artifacts, monuments, sites, and cities. It seems that amidst the unrest and battle, both sides have spoken openly about the need to protect antiquities and World Heritage Sites. 

Demonstrators in the ancient site of Palmyra

Ordinary civilians as well as Syrian Rebels had been risking their lives in order to document the damage being done to the monuments and the museums; now, Bashar Assad's regime has joined the effort, although each side in the conflict is blaming the other for the damage inflicted on all six of the World Heritage Sites in Syria. 

One could argue that civil strife leads to looting and destruction (as in the case of Iraq), and the only way to control or minimize this side effect of war is for the collective to be aware of the dangers that are being posed for ancient artifacts and sites. I would argue that Syria, in terms of acknowledging this, has thus far succeeded. Hopefully, this idea will continue to be carried out into actions, actions which will prevent further destruction of sites, preserve artifacts, and prevent looting. 

A more personal case for Repatriation

I think the reason that I feel so strongly about repatriation is because I can relate. I understand what it feels like to go to National Museums in my home country and see replicas of things when I should be seeing the originals. I am lucky because I have a chance to perhaps travel to see the original artifacts, but what about those who are less fortunate? Those who may have an even closer connection to the artifact due to ancestral ties?

Yes, I am a proud Mexican. Everybody knows this: I praise my home country every chance I get. But I am also European. My grandparents, great grandparents, and great great grandparents were European. Thus, I am a European Mexican, not an indigenous Mexican. So I have to wonder, if these artifacts are so important to me, how important must they be for those whose families have been in the Americas for centuries? Whose ancestors were perhaps Aztecs, Mayans, Mexicas, etc?

My mother once confessed to me that when I was born she wanted to name me Xochitl, which means flower in Nahuatl. I think this demonstrates the connection that we, as Mexicans, feel to the history and culture of our homeland, even if others may consider us "less" Mexican due to our skin tone or origin.

Just as in the United States, Native Mexican culture is a living culture. It lives on not only in the language (Nahuatl has been spoken since the 7th century C.E.!!) but also in the customs of the people. There is a living memory, told through rituals and oral stories. And yet, these people were thought of as 'primitive' by the conquistadores who then stole all their most precious artifacts and housed them in fabulous museums throughout Europe, where they can still be seen today.
I say it's time to rectify this situation and give these people back what is theirs. Young Mexican children  in elementary school should be able to go on a fieldtrip to the National Museum of Anthropology and see the original artifacts that they learn about since first grade.

Which brings me to the actual point I wanted to discuss in this post: The Penacho de Moctezuma (Headdress of Moctezuma), currently in the Museum of Ethnology in Vienna, should be repatriated to Mexico.

Penacho de Moctezuma in Vienna, 1.16 m tall

Mexico has been fighting to regain the artifact since the 20th century, all to no avail. Austria  claims that it would loan the artifact to Mexico in exchange for other artifacts, but at the same time the feeling in Mexico is that Austria distrusts Mexico and the loan will, in fact, never happen. (see the story here – sorry, it's in Spanish, but google translate does wonders!)

I dislike this idea of a loan, since the artifact should not be LOANED, it should be RETURNED. It's as if I steal your pen but then let you "borrow" it to write the date, insisting you must give it back to me afterwards. Am I really loaning it to you if it's actually yours? Yes, this brings up the nasty arguments of ownership laws and the statute of limitations, which I will steer clear of in this post, instead focusing on the importance and cultural significance of the artifact.

To whom does the Penacho mean more? Yes, the artifact has been in Vienna for quite some time and is 'part of the identity' of the Museum (sound familiar? Hint, British Museum), but do Austrian children grow up learning about the Aztecs and their last known rulers who faced Hernán Cortéz? Are they told of the wonders and horrors of Aztec civilization (which I've mentioned before) and its fast demise at the hand of the Spaniards? And more specifically, are they told about this particular artifact in that context?

I suspect the answer is no. I do know, however, from personal experience, that Mexican children grow up learning about this, both the good and the bad. And I remember, as a child with no notion of what cultural heritage was and unaware of the many conventions dealing with ownership, ethics, and repatriation, being incensed at seeing a replica in front of me instead of the actual artifact (when the artifact still exists) upon a visit to the National Museum of Anthropology. Many things have changed since that day; I am more than a decade older, and I'd like to think, wiser, yet that emotion remains the same. Why should any country that is not Mexico, or even Latin American, hold this rare artifact?

Case in point: A Museum should not house an artifact if it can't even get the minor details of said artifact correct. It is Moctezuma, not Montezuma!

I rest my case.

Bonus picture: a closeup of the gold detailing of the Penacho

On the Publication of Unprovenanced Artifacts

This week, the topics of discussion in class were the responsibilities of archaeologists, and who owns or should own the information (publication and excavation rights, etc). 

While for my presentation on the publication of unprovenanced artifact (focused mainly on cuneiform tablets, but arguing for all artifacts) I offered an extreme perspective in favour of publication, in reality I'm much more conflicted on the issue.

Cuneiform Tablet

The question at hand is: Should artifacts that have been looted or have no provenance be published? The case for cuneiform tablets is strong, since most of them are unprovenanced and tell us much about what we know about Near Eastern religion, society, culture, economy, etc. As Dr. Greene pointed out in class, these tablets are fascinating because, unlike the Mycenanean Linear B texts, they actually record literature– that is, letters, edicts, laws, etc., versus just economic records. 

I do believe it is true that if EVERYONE ignored unprovenanced artifacts, the illicit antiquities trade would cease to exist, as there would be no demand for these artifacts, and they would thus be unsellable. In a sense, this is what archaeological societies and journals strive to achieve through their restrictions on publishing and presenting unprovenanced artifacts.

On the other hand, unless everyone ignores these artifacts, are we really doing the public a favour by ignoring anything that has no archaeological context, no matter the uniqueness of the object?

Often times in archaeology a scholar will say that there is only one type of something, or that no type of some kind has ever been found. What if these were all under our noses, in storage limbo? How much information could we get from these objects? Should an object be forsaken of its importance just because it's missing archaeological context?

It's difficult to really argue absolutely for one side or the other. Some objects maybe should be ignored, in order to not bring prestige to their unfortunate situation (looted shipwreck items, anyone?), while others should be studied, in order for their unearthing to not be a completely total loss of valuable information. 

As with many other topics dealing with ethics and cultural heritage, I'm not sure that I can offer any conclusion, as the position is pretty subjective, and each person's take is truly dependent on a number of factors. 

Israeli Palestinian conflict and Cultural Property

It's hard not to follow the rising conflict between Israel and the Gaza Strip this week, as the conflict is all over the news and various forms of social media. 
With rockets being launched from both sides and Israel talking about a ground invasion on Gaza, what will happen to cultural heritage?

Marking of cultural property
 under the convention

Israel ratified the Hague 1954 Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict with Regulations for the Execution of the Convention on October 3rd, 1957, but did not ratify the 1999 Second Protocol to the Hague Convention of 1954 for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict, which entered into force in 2004. 

Palestine, on the other hand, acceded (same legal effect as ratification but is not preceded by an act of signature) both the 1954 Convention and the 1999 Convention on March 22nd 2012. 

Since both countries are signatories to at least one of the two conventions, there is hope that if the conflict escalates, cultural property will be respected by both sides. 

Better Policing of Antiquities?

 I read an article this week that had both the optimist in me excited and the skeptic in me awakened. It appears that a new international body is set to be established in order to gather information about the illicit sale of antiquities and establish the "best practice" to fight this crime, creating a database of publicly available information. The new organization will be the "International Observatory on Illicit Traffic in Cultural Goods" (IOITCG?), and will try to improve cooperation between Interpol and law enforcement agencies, UNESCO, and research institutions, among others. Hopefully, the cooperation between these parties will  improve the monitoring, research, and awareness of the illegal trafficking of antiquities.

While the very possibility of any type of organization being created to prevent the destruction and sale of antiquities exhilarates the aspiring archaeologist in me, I have to wonder how this new organization will be any different from all the ones that have come before. They all promise so much, and sure, they help, but in the end it's up to the Average Joe to do his part.

As stated by an ICOM official, the theft of culturally or historically important objects is much worse than the theft of an ordinary object because the loss is felt by a whole society and by several generations of people who will feel deprived of a part of their history and cultural past. Let's not compare this to the loss of just one individual when his personal property is stolen. 

The illicit trade of antiquities impacts the world, not just one nation. This point is very well made in the article, since they discuss artifacts ranging from Ancient Nigerian statues to Peruan cloaks and Haitian artifacts, to Ming Dynasty letters and ancient Cuneiform texts from Iraq. Clearly, the illicit trade of antiquities affects everyone, not just the people from these countries, but also the entire world which is being deprived of these artifacts and the information that accompanies them. 

As far as IOITCG is concerned,  I guess we'll just have to wait and see what comes out of this. Hopefully raised awareness and more public information will have a greater impact on the illicit sale of antiquities. 

Read the article here.

Göbekli Tepe and its Portrayal

This past Saturday I had the pleasure of attending the Annual Student Symposium run by the archaeological society at Brock, better known as BUAS. While I had originally intended to post on the first paper which dealt with repatriation, I figure that I often talk about repatriation (and I still plan on writing on the Parthenon Marbles..) and so instead I will focus on another aspect that we've discussed in class: the responsibilities of how to portray artifacts and cultural heritage.

The last paper of the Symposium, by Colin Pipher, entitled "Dirty Pictures: An examination of pornographic megaliths from the site of Göbekli Tepe," first outlined the archaeological site of Göbekli Tepe in modern day Turkey and the uncertainty behind its function. 

Reconstruction of Göbekli Tepe

The site, resembling Stonehenge but larger, dates to circa 9600 BCE. 
It is the oldest known example of monumental architecture, and Colin Pipher postulates that the site indicates the possibility that religion may have preceded urbanization and agriculture. He also, as the title of the talk indicates, examined the pornographic images on the megaliths, which are not widely looked at. He believes that magazines that have published about the site have deliberately avoided something that must have been important to the cultures at Göbekli Tepe, and have politicized the site. For example, this National Geographic article does not even mention the existence of the images. 

We, as laypeople not actually on the site, rely on those with the information to interpret the site in a way which actually represents what it may have been, trusting that those who weave the stories will do so accurately. But what if we find out that there's an entire aspect which has been neglected? Is it right for magazines such as National Geographic to not even mention these erotic images? Yes, audience is something that must be kept in mind, but just because something in a civilization is unpalatable to our modern sensitivities, does that mean it should be ignored? Take for instance the Aztecs who sacrificed not only their enemies, but also select maidens to the gods. It's something you learn about when you are little, because that's just the way they were, and you can't talk about the Aztecs and their impressive architecture without mentioning the function of the pyramids as a place for sacrifice. Just because we may be uncomfortable with an idea does not mean that the idea is unlikely or false, as proven by the evidence of human sacrifice associated with Aztec sites and accounts. 

Because the exact function of Göbekli Tepe is still debated, I think it's even more important to report on all the images, because they give the site different possibilities. Without the erotic images, the site can be seen as a place for worship, for trade, burial grounds, etc. With these images, it could also be a brothel. Some postulate that the erect phallus may pictures may indicate homoerotic activity or a homosexual cult of worship within Göbekli Tepe. Or perhaps the pictures really mean nothing at all. Only time may tell what their significance was, but for now, I think it's only fair for the public to be aware that they exist. To make my point: after hearing of their existence I searched the internet for mention of these images or for the images themselves, and suffice it to say, few sites which discuss Göbekli Tepe also discuss the erotic images at any length. Here is one of them. Happy hunting!

Sophocles' Antigone and its relation with ethics and cultural heritage

As a student, everything in life seems perpetually connected to whatever you are learning about in your classes. Well, if your class is on ethics and cultural heritage, this connection seems to happen even more often, something that I welcome. Which brings me to the point: this week, the introduction to Greek Civilization seminar was on Sophocles' Antigone. In the play, Creon (the ruler of Thebes) forbids the body of Polyneices to be buried, the harshest punishment at that time. His sister, Antigone, defies Creon's orders and decides to give her brother the honour of a proper burial, as he deserves. The story of course would not be a a tragedy unless most of the characters died, and so in true tragic fashion, Antigone commits suicide. Upon being discovered by her fiancé (Creon's son, no less!) he too, commits suicide, and his mother (Creon's wife), kills herself as well due to his suicide. That's the story in a nutshell, but you might be wondering, how is any of this relevant to cultural heritage or archaeological ethics?

Well, the entire tragedy and story centers around a burial, and burial customs. While to the modern reader (such as my 30-some students) Antigone's actions in risking her life in order to bury her (already dead) brother may seem extreme, when put in the context of what a proper burial meant in the 4th century BCE and in myths (think of Hector of Troy!) the relevance of the story changes. The Antigone displays the importance that burial rituals and beliefs of the afterlife can have in a society, which can be compared to those of the Native Americans, begging the questions of who has the right to decide what happens to the deceased, and why should they have this power? Creon clearly thinks it is his right to dictate Polyneices' punishment but does not consider his remaining family members. Today, we are faced with different scenarios which ask the same questions. Who should decide what happens to exhumed remains, and why should they be the ones to do so? 

Thanks to the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act, or NAGPRA, remains which can be identified as Native American technically belong to anyone who can prove that they are a descendent or some sort of close lineal relationship. This extends from specific people to entire tribes, and even organizations.
Logically, it seems right that descendants should have control over the remains of their ancestors, but when does this control go too far? Can a family of English descent claim the remains of a colonial settler, just because their ancestors and the deceased hailed from the same town? 


The problem (and relief) of the real world is that our actions affecting others rarely impact us in the way that they would in a tragedy. For instance, Creon's decisions and his arrogance prove fatal to those around him, not just his opponent, Antigone, but his own loved ones. But if in the early 20th century an archaeologist disturbed a burial site, there were no repercussions even though to the Native Americans, this was a huge affront to the deceased.

I, for one, think that dealing with humans remains will always be tricky, no matter where you are, because of the different beliefs of what respect to the deceased may mean. For some, a body is just that: a body. For others, a body means much more: the life and death, and story of that individual, of their family, perhaps. 

Photo of Ishi

Take for instance Ishi, the last known member of the Yahi. After living most of his life completely outside European American culture, at 49 years old (in 1911), Ishi left his home and walked 'into the white man's world, where he lived his last five years of life. He was thought to be the last "wild Indian" and so he was studied by anthropologists at the University of California, Berkeley. Ishi died of Tuberculosis in 1916, and before his death, expressed his belief that if his body was disturbed, his spirit would not be able to be at peace. His friends at the University tried to keep his body intact according to Yahi tradition; however, scientists and doctors neglected his beliefs and his wishes and conducted an autopsy on his body. Should they feel guilty since because of their actions, Ishi's spirit may never be at peace? Ever? Does it matter if they didn't believe it, if Ishi (the man who's spirit is in question!) did? 

It was mentioned in class that if someone wanted to go dig up a cemetery in North America, the answer would be a resounding NO! However, on the other side of the argument, people in my own family have expressed to me their views that if something could be gained from the study of our deceased family members, it should be allowed, since for them, the soul is gone, and the body is just an empty shell.  

Clearly, there are many different beliefs about the spirit and the soul, how they are connected to the body, and what is the right thing to do when dealing with human remains. It is reasonable, therefore, to have some guidelines when dealing with remains in order to ensure that no one is affronted. For Native American remains, this is where NAGPRA comes in. 

The questions which remain are whether Mediterranean and other North American remains should have something equivalent to NAGPRA, and why these remains are treated differently, when perhaps their cultures felt the same way about the afterlife. 

A Heart-wrenching Case of Failed Restitution

In class last week we discussed, among other things, what happens when the protection of cultural heritage fails in times of war. 

Whenever we hear of something ancient that no longer survives to us, such as the Library at Alexandria, we feel a tinge of regret that someone wasn't there to stop it. For me, this is why the modern cases of loss of cultural heritage feel more real, because we could've been the ones to stop it, to save it for posterity. But what could we really have done? Take for example the case of the Bamiyan Buddhas, destroyed in 2001 (a great way to start the new millenium...). As a people, groups united to protest this destruction, but short of somehow hijacking the operation, there was nothing that could be done. 37 letters from UNESCO did no good, offers from different countries to buy the buddhas and move them, such as Japan, were also to no avail.

This is the threat that humanity poses: when groups are determined to destruct, little can get in their way. 

So what happens, then, when protection fails? If the fail results in destruction, little can be done, perhaps reconstruction through anastylosis (restoration using the original pieces), or replication. 

If the fail results in looting, then every attempt must be made to return the artifacts to their original location or owner. 

This is the case of the plundered Nazi items, and it's a time sensitive case as the holocaust becomes farther away and people get older. If you survive through the horrors of becoming imprisoned like animals, watching your family die, and having your life threatened every single day, shouldn't you at least be able to get your things back at the end of it? Not that material gain can ever atone for this suffering, but it's a start. It might provide some form of closure.  

The case that my classmate posted on her blog about Dina Babbitt, a woman who died at age 86 before successfully gaining ownership of her own paintings, is unacceptable. In a nutshell, the woman survived Auschwitz by painting for the sadistic 'doctor' Josef Mengele. Her skill was so incredible, that they preferred her drawings to photographs. After the war, several of her paintings were discovered and sold to the Auschwitz Museum. The Museum then went as far as to ask Babbitt to return to the Auschwitz site in 1973 to identify her work, all the while informing her that she could not have her paintings back since they now belonged to the Museum. This is outrageous as SHE, the artist, never sold them, and they were clearly her work. Perhaps if the paintings had been returned, Babbitt would have donated them after her death, or even sold a few back to the Museum, we'll never know. 

To me, this case is particularly horrible because the Museum is supposed to commemorate the events at Auschwitz, giving a voice to all those who perished or endured the Holocaust. To completely disregard the wishes of one such survivor is thus unacceptable, since the paintings were legally, and perhaps more importantly, morally hers. 

My only hope is that this case will somehow help other survivors or their direct descendants acquire what should be theirs. 

Of Ethics and Technology Classes: The Case of the Lycurgus Cup

This week I wrote a paper for my technology class on the Lycurgus cup, a fourth century Roman cage cup. This cup is quite special as it is the only complete example of a figural cage cup, and also the only complete example of dichroic glass (it changes colours depending on where the light comes from– how neat is that?!)

Lycurgus cup in both colours, greenish and reddish

For the paper we have to discuss the artifact, the technology associated with its production, and of course, the context and history of that artifact.
Well, this was the short section of the paper. The cup is first attested to in the mid 19th century in France, shortly afterwards it was bought by the Rothschild family, in the late 1950s Lord Rothschild brought the cup back into public light for it to be examined, and a short while later the cup became part of the collection in the British Museum.
This is all we have for its provenience and its provenance. While we can date the cup to within a reasonable time period and can speculate its country of origin, we have no real idea of whether it was looted in antiquity or in the 1600s, but I would say it was most definitely looted, at some point.

Which brings us to the questions of: Should these looted items receive so much publicity, or is that encouraging modern-day looting? Does it matter for the purpose of academic study if it was looted in the 1800s, or is that so long ago that we don't really care anymore? And on the same note, should I be writing about it in my paper, or should I have focused on another cage cup (fascinating glass artifacts!) with better provenance?

I don't know if I have outright stated this before, but this cultural heritage and ethics in archaeology class has had a meaningful impact on the way I see things, and I think it's safe to say that I'm not the only one affected. I know yesterday at our Gradate Proseminar there were at least two of us who were ready to get into a discussion about the ideas being talked about (theories) in terms of cultural heritage and ethics.

 Last year, I could've written the exact same paper and just thought "What a bummer, I don't have that much to write about for the context because it's unknown" and that would have been it. Now, I know better (or at least I think I do...).