You can't have your stuff back
WHO OWNS IT? | Art Institute chief says artifacts belong to all of us, not host countries -- many disagree
When Art Institute President James Cuno, then 19, visited his first museum -- the famous Louvre in Paris -- he was awed.
"Most of the world was there for me, or so it seemed,'' recalls Cuno of the Louvre, mentioning artifacts from Mesopotamia, pharaonic Egypt, renaissance Italy and baroque France.
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Today, Cuno worries that "encyclopedic" museums such as the Art Institute and the Louvre, which contain antiquities from around the planet, are endangered by nations that, simply put, want their stuff back -- and don't want any more stuff to leave their borders.
In his new book, Who Owns Antiquity?: Museums and the Battle Over Our Ancient Heritage (Princeton University Press, $24.95), Cuno answers his own question this way: All of us do.
The question isn't just the musings of a museum man. Egypt, Greece, Peru, Turkey and China are among countries pushing for the return of objects removed from their lands years ago. Italy has forced the return of dozens of pieces from American museums. Laws in host countries can now seriously restrict export of artifacts.
Cuno is fighting back.
"Antiquities are the cultural property of all humankind, evidence of the world's ancient past, and not that of a particular modern nation,'' he writes.
Countries seeking the return of objects or, in Cuno's view, becoming overly stingy on exports, "conspire against a greater understanding and appreciation of the world's many diverse cultures,'' he says.
Critics are seething over the book, which won't be out until May 28 but already is in circulation for review and causing a buzz.
Cuno's one-world approach will be accepted only "when European and North American museum directors cease believing in their eternal and divinely endowed role as custodians of global cultural heritage,'' blogs one British art historian.
On another Web site, an African writer fumes that the museums of "Cuno and Co.," with "more objects than they can manage to house," are pining for "the good old days of empire that allowed them to take from other countries whatever they wanted."
"The question smacks of arrogance and even, some might say, colonialism,'' says Chapurukha Kusimba, the Field Museum's associate curator of anthropology. "When this book is finally released, there's going to be a huge uproar. It's going to portray the Art Institute in a very bad light."
Cuno was traveling last week and unavailable for comment. But he has said his book isn't an argument against all repatriation. The Art Institute's official policy is that it will accept no object that has been stolen and that it abides by treaties and international agreements. Cuno's book does not change that policy, museum officials say.
But claims aren't always clear-cut, Cuno says.
He cites an ivory box at the Art Institute, probably made in Sicily in the 13th century. Some of the ivory likely came from African elephant tusks. It includes an Islamic inscription. It was likely used to hold the relics of a Christian saint. It was acquired by the Art Institute in 1926. So who lays claim to it?
"What is the relationship between modern Egypt and the antiquities that were part of the land's pharaonic past?'' Cuno writes.
"The people of modern-day Cairo do not speak the language of the ancient Egyptians, do not practice their religion, do not make their art, wear their dress, eat their food or play their music. All that can be said is that they occupy the same (actually less) stretch of the earth's geography.''
Cuno proposes a system of "partage" in which excavation teams share their finds with host countries, leaving some antiquities behind while distributing other pieces to museums around the world.
"The more our citizens know about the world and the glories of its diverse artistic production and its distinguished history, the more likely they will develop respect and understanding for the different cultures of their neighbors,'' says Cuno.
