Conflict antiquities and conflicted antiquities: addressing commercial sales of legally excavated artefacts.
Stevenson, Alice
Introduction
When the antiquities trade is discussed in archaeology it is often
prefixed with the pejorative adjective 'illicit'.
'Archaeology without context' is a rallying cry for the
archaeological profession to mobilise its collective voice in order to
petition against the sale of heritage where an object's history is
opaque and very probably a result of destructive looting (Chippindale et
al. 2001; Brodie 2006). The vocal campaign of the last decade to ensure
that high-profile sales and museum acquisitions of material without
documented collection histories do not encourage or sanction looting
(e.g. Renfrew 2000; Brodie et al. 2006) has had some success, although
objects without findspots continue to surface on the market (e.g. Gill
& Tsirogiannis 2011). That campaign, however, may have redistributed
the weight of commercial value into another area that is far less
clear-cut: the sale of archaeology itself. Documented context, accrued
through professional archaeological practices, is now not only
certifying specific auction lots, but is also potentially inflating
their monetary value, sometimes substantially (Gill 2011; 52-53). These
are often legal, but ethically problematic, transactions.
This article seeks to bring attention to this issue and to suggest
possible responses from the profession in terms of ethics and
stewardship. In addressing this problem however, we also have to
confront the complex history and legacy of 'partage', a system
that permitted the export of legally excavated material by foreign
nations, but that frequently leaves more questions than answers
concerning the ownership and possession of cultural heritage in the
present. I would argue, therefore, that stewardship principles need to
be established with a view to radical transparency, and with a
flexibility that allows archaeologists to engage in critical dialogues
on a case-by-case basis.
Archaeology with context
On 2 October 2014, Bonham's auction house, London, offered two
lots of Egyptian antiquities for sale on behalf of the Archaeological
Institute of America's (ALA.) St Louis Chapter. The first (lot
160), billed as 'the treasure of Harageh' (Figure 1),
comprised a group of travertine vessels and inlaid silver jewellery; the
second (lot 162) was a travertine headrest (Bonhams 2014: 144-49, 151).
Both derived from second-millennium BC assemblages excavated by teams
working for Flinders Petrie's British School of Archaeology in
Egypt (BSAE) during 1913-1914. The former was removed from auction
following the Metropolitan Museum of Art's intercession and a
private sale for an undisclosed sum, while the latter exceeded its
estimated price at auction and went into private hands. These objects
have precise provenance documented through published accounts (Engelbach
& Gunn 1923) and field notes (Figure 2). Such records allowed one
academic--who also catalogued the material on behalf of Bonhams (2014:
148)--to build a compelling biography of these objects prior to their
appearance on the market (Bianchi 2013a & b), raising uncomfortable
questions concerning the role of scholars in enhancing the commercial
value of objects for the antiquities trade, consciously or unconsciously
(Brodie 2011).
[FIGURE 1 OMITTED]
The BSAE's finds were originally exported in accordance with
Egyptian laws that allowed those with an excavation licence to receive
half of the discoveries, or the equivalent value, after the Cairo
Museum's first selection (Khater 1960). Once in London, the BSAE
divided the finds between public institutions, as per their regulations
(BSAE 1905: 8-9). The St Louis AIA, as one such sponsor, was allotted a
share on the understanding that these were for a public institution.
Their sale a century later contravenes that original agreement, albeit
an agreement that seems not to have been documented in ways that stand
up to legal scrutiny today. It was on ethical grounds, therefore, that a
joint statement from UCL's Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology
and the Egypt Exploration Society (EES) was issued, condemning the
actions of the St Louis ALA (Stevenson & Naunton 2014).
There was, nonetheless, a general academic and professional
acquiescence surrounding the sale. Several commentators in social media
noted that the auction was not illegal and, as Pitts (2014) pointed out,
that the St Louis lots were in fact one of the few that day that did not
technically contravene UNESCO's 1970 international 'Convention
on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export
and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property' treaty: more than
150 other lots did. For other observers, the sale was not even
unethical, given that the AIA's code of ethics at that time (AIA
1997) only denounced "trade in undocumented antiquities" and
"activities that enhance the commercial value of such
objects". There was no provision for a scenario in which
well-documented archaeological material was marketed.
[FIGURE 2 OMITTED]
A month later, on 12 November, two Mesoamerican artefacts, again in
the care of the St Louis AIA from documented excavations, were placed on
Bonhams's New York auction block: a Zapotec seated urn from Monte
Alban (lot 149) and a Maya Ek Chuah effigy vase (lot 156), excavated by
Sylvanus Morley's teams, working under the aegis of the School of
American Archaeology, at Quirigua during 1910-1911 (Morley 1935; Ashmore
2007). The Maya vessel sold for almost three times its estimated value,
despite the threat of legal action from the Mexican Government.
It is not the first time that the sale of archaeologically
documented material has sparked controversy. In 2002, Charterhouse
School in England sold its collection via Sotheby's (2002),
including pre-Columbian South American pottery and Egyptian antiquities.
Many had documented excavation histories, such as antiquities procured
via the Egypt Exploration Fund. Protest was voiced in various media
outlets (Kennedy 2002), yet it was not debated in academia. Pressure
from local archaeologists led to the removal of British prehistoric
material, but the other items disappeared from the sales room into
private ownership. Similarly, six years earlier, Christie's sold an
Assyrian relief removed by A.H. Layard (Russell 1997) on behalf of
Canford School, Bournemouth. The Iraqi government protested, but their
legal bid was thwarted as the monument was seemingly removed legally, as
evidenced by an 1846 permit issued through the then Ottoman-Turkish
government. The auction price reached at that time was the highest ever
paid for an antiquity. Canford used the proceeds to expand its sports
facilities.
The auction house problem
These sales raise acute problems on several fronts. For the
archaeological objects themselves, being put on the auction block puts
them at risk of disappearing into the private domain. Although it has
been claimed that many collectors save and make material accessible in
various ways, this is simply not a guaranteed outcome of commercial
sale. Moreover, the integrity of the objects is no longer assured as
there is currently no international legal protection, no
'obligations of ownership', for cultural property in private
hands.
More broadly, the legal status of such archaeological sales confers
an air of legitimacy to the antiquities trade, giving the impression
that it is completely licit (Dietzler 2013). This is amplified when
museums purchase through sales, laudably rescuing artefacts from
disappearing into unregulated private ownership on the one hand, but
simultaneously leading auction houses to trumpet their status as
legitimate, high-end brokers between clients and esteemed museums on the
other. Yet however one looks at it, this is a 'grey trade',
and the reality remains that illicit antiquities, lacking detailed
ownership histories, are just as likely to be offered at the same sales
(Watson 1997; Bowman 2008; Brodie 2011: 409).
The steep premiums that these auctions achieve continue to be
attractive sources of revenue. In recessions and times of austerity,
this market appeal potentially destabilises the certitude that museums
are long-term repositories, and fundamentally threatens public trust in
them (Steel 2015). For example, while none of the sellers cited above
are accountable in the way that museums or similar institutions are
supposed to be, the widely condemned sale in July 2014 of an ancient
Egyptian statue by Northampton City Council at Christie's (sale
1541, The exceptional sale) shows that even things held in public trust
are not necessarily safe from disposal via commercial auction (Heal
2014). The statue was sold to an overseas private buyer for the
exorbitant sum of 15762500 [pounds sterling], and the museum lost its
accreditation from Arts Council England. Whereas academic pressure on
curators was previously intended to ensure that museums did not acquire
archaeology without context (Renfrew 2006), could museums be now
increasingly looking to dispose of archaeology with context?
Inflated auction prices additionally garner considerable media
attention and headlines, reducing archaeological finds to an economic
value and undermining archaeologists' attempts to promote more
meaningful engagements with the past. Most seriously of all, these high
prices and their media profile fuel powerful market forces that
ultimately drive the pillaging of archaeological sites across the world
(Gill 2010: 6, 2014; Hanna 2013). It is a lucrative trade for status-
and profit-driven individuals, but it is not lucrative for source
communities (Brodie 1998; Bowman 2008: 232). It is these groups who live
in proximity to archaeological sites that stand to lose the most--not
just in the short-term, but also in the long-term touristic potential of
sites--especially in countries where there is political and economic
instability such as Egypt, Syria, Libya and Iraq.
Complex histories
There are clear reasons then for critiquing the antiquities market,
but countering instances where the products of legal archaeological work
become financial assets is not always straightforward. This lack of
clarity is largely due to the multiple routes by which objects have
circulated from the field to the auction house, networks of exchange
that are often poorly understood. If we are to have a dialogue and
dissuade those that wish to sell archaeological heritage on the open
market, it is necessary for archaeologists to be transparent about the
history of their discipline and the legacy of collections procured
during the nascent development of the subject.
In the UK, the absence of government-backed exploration meant that
British fieldwork abroad was dependent upon both private patronage and
public funding. This financial imperative placed an onus upon excavators
to recover finds worthy of sponsorship, and archaeologists were under
pressure to gain both scientific and popular assent, resulting in a wide
diaspora of objects from field sites through partage agreements (Robson
et al. 2014; Stevenson 2014). Commercial considerations have long
underpinned archaeological exploration (Sparks 2013).
Nevertheless, the regulations of organisations that administered
these operations emphasised that excavated material was for public
benefit, not private profit (BSAE 1905). No contracts were signed
however, and documentation of any conditions of transfer has survived
piecemeal, making it difficult to challenge many sales legally today.
Although the original intentions of those who administered partage were
that the material discovered should benefit the public, the sentiment
was not absolute or equally applied. For instance, 'duplicate'
objects were considered feasible tokens for private gifts or as
incentives to garner further financial support (Stevenson 2014). Even
objects that remained in Cairo following partage were not always
retained, and the Cairo Museum's Salle de Vente used to sell
excavated objects until the mid-1970s (Piacentini 2011: 26-28). The
result is that archaeological finds have always been in private hands as
well as public institutions, and these too have circulated through the
antiquities market. Should we distinguish those archaeological artefacts
from public collections to the sale room, from those disposed into
private hands decades ago? The legacy of partage is far more problematic
than is sometimes assumed (e.g. Cuno 2008).
Given this background, basing a challenge to sales such as that
offered by the St Louis AIA upon a century-old agreement might seem
anachronistic. I would argue, however, that this does not detract from
our current ability to resist the transference of archaeological
artefacts into commercial territory and then to private ownership
wherever possible. We can adopt a position of "radical
transparency"--a "mode of communication that admits
accountability" (Marstine 2011: 14)--in which we acknowledge both
past failings and previous laissez-faire attitudes to the circulation of
heritage; there are new opportunities to reinvigorate ethical debate to
discourage the involvement of auction houses in the public sale of
legally acquired archaeological finds. Such a position requires the
archaeological profession to construct flexible frameworks for ethical
debate that permit us to tackle sales on a case-by-case basis.
A question of stewardship
As the national AIA discovered in 2014, despite their condemnation
of the decision made by the St Louis chapter of the AIA, the objects in
their care were sold. It was only in the aftermath of this event that
action to revoke the charter of the St Louis branch was discussed at the
national AIA January 2015 annual meeting, but subsequently avoided when
the St Louis AIA board resigned (AIA 2015a). The AIA are now addressing
their ethical frameworks (AIA 2015b). Likewise, many current ethical
guidelines of other professional bodies, museums and university
departments, while taking a robust position against the market in
undocumented finds, do not currently offer an effective means of
addressing these sorts of sales, and may find themselves in a similar
position to the AIA. Yet our stewardship responsibilities towards
objects whose value was constructed by the discipline itself are surely
of equal priority, as they are integral to our professional identity
(Wylie 1996). Given the mixed legacy of archaeological finds
distributions, it is, however, difficult to articulate proscriptive
statements against legal sales of all archaeologically procured items.
More recent conceptualisations of archaeological ethics, however,
envision them not as stringent guidelines, but as a contingent form of
negotiating politics and as a means of formulating an effective dialogue
(Meskell & Pels 2005; Scarre & Scarre 2006; 3; Beaudry 2009),
which may allow us to address the sales through radical transparency and
open dialogue. When reassessing guidelines, the Society for American
Archaeology's third principle is a particularly apropos departure
point (Wylie 2005: 54):
Whenever possible they [archaeologists] should discourage, and
should themselves avoid, activities that enhance the commercial
value of archaeological objects, especially objects that are not
curated in public institutions, or readily available for scientific
study, public interpretation, and display (SAA 1996).
I would appeal, therefore, to professional and archaeological
societies to re-examine and debate their ethical stances with regard to
both the sale of archaeological heritage more widely and the nature of
the profession's relationships with auction houses. This might not
mean denouncing all forms of interaction, given the debateable function
of auction houses in facilitating the transfer of heritage from private
hands to public museums, but these should be considered more carefully
and critically on a case-by-case basis.
A second approach is to account for the whereabouts of the products
of past excavations by making transparent the distribution of objects. A
current AHRC-funded project, Artefacts of Excavation', is
attempting to do just that for the finds from a century of British
fieldwork in Egypt (Stevenson & Libonati 2015). This is not simply
an information-gathering exercise. Rather, one of its aims is to give
non-specialists enough information to make connections between objects
and histories for themselves, thereby reanimating the narrative
potential of 'orphaned' artefacts. This is important because
in both the sales of the St Louis material and the Northampton statue,
the fact that material was in storage was considered to be one, albeit
short-sighted, justification for its disposal. There is no reason,
especially in the digital age, for storage to be misconstrued as
synonymous with inaccessibility. As stewards of the past, we do
ourselves a disservice if we disregard the material legacies of past
excavations and their latent potential for modern academic and public
interpretation.
The concern over the legal sale of archaeological heritage might be
seen as a histrionic reaction to what is currently a small-scale problem
against the burgeoning trade in undocumented antiquities. Yet this is
itself a reason to be more vocal in denouncing the few instances in
which archaeological heritage is placed on the market: not only have we
a strong case to make (e.g. Dillon 2015), we also have a moral
obligation. These are objects excavated by colonial nations in foreign
countries whose own resources are now frequently over-stretched tackling
looting that is itself being undertaken for the first-world market. We
should be responsible and accountable on their behalf for material we
excavated and exported.
Conclusion
The antiquities market thrives on attaining the highest possible
price for objects. It is simply not an appropriate conduit for
transferring archaeological heritage, and auction houses should not be
the middlemen for the disposal of material that was to remain in public
trust. Private, discrete sales between museums or institutions are not
being condemned here. Of concern is the public circus of
commercialisation that is performed in the auction room, in which
legally acquired antiquities are paraded as assets for the elite that
can disappear into unregulated private territory. The price is not only
high for the public profile of the archaeological profession and the
trust held in museums but, more importantly, it is too high for source
communities and archaeological sites around the world. Licit and illicit
antiquities cannot be decoupled, as the commercial sale of the former
still creates demand for the latter (cf. Brodie 2014). For these
reasons, museums and archaeological institutions must take a stand.
doi: 10.15184/aqy.2015.188
Acknowledgements
I am grateful to Carla Antonaccio, William Carruthers, Thomas
Morton, Simon Griffith, Emma Libonati, Christopher Naunton, Stephen
Quirke and Alice Williams for helpful discussions on these issues, and
to the two reviewers for their insights and suggestions.
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Received: 6 January 2015; Accepted: 7 April 2015; Revised: 28 April
2015
Alice Stevenson, UCL Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology, Malet
Place, London WC1E 6BT, UK (Email: alice.stevenson@ucl.ac.uk)