Britain treasures the Parthenon marbles, but consider this: returned to Greece, could they be more valuable?

Politicians concern that handing again disputed would asset-strip the British soul. The reality is, it would enrich us

What will we discuss after we discuss cultural restitution? In standard discourse in Britain, returning artefacts to their communities of origin is nearly invariably framed as a loss. Minds leap to a imaginative and prescient of our museums violently pillaged: partitions naked, sculpture courts abandoned, retailer rooms despoiled – a captivating reversal of how no less than some (albeit, to be truthful, a tiny minority) of museum objects within the UK had been truly acquired.

There's a fixed concern, in this type of pondering, that the restitution of 1 object essentially results in the restitution of all objects, that après moi, le déluge. Returning the Parthenon sculptures to Athens – to make use of a not-so random instance – “would open the gateway to the query of all the contents of our museums”, as Michelle Donelan, the tradition secretary, put it in a BBC interview earlier this month. It might be, she mentioned, “a really slippery slope to go down”. She described the sculptures as “belongings of our nation”. Shedding the Elgin marbles, in keeping with this type of formulation, would result in a type of asset-stripping of the British soul.

I don’t suppose she’s proper. Restitution claims hover over a tiny minority of objects in British collections: the British Museum, for example, has round 8m objects in its assortment, of which round 80,000 are on show in Bloomsbury at any given time. The Parthenon sculptures are distinctive in every kind of how – not least due to the way wherein which means and myths have connected themselves to the carvings over the centuries so thickly, so ineradicably, that the objects appear to be like Glaucus, the fisherman-turned-sea god in Plato’s Republic, who’s hardly recognisable due to the barnacles and seaweed which have clung to him over time. (The concept that a British politician would possibly view them as an “asset of our nation” would appear totally weird to the Athenians who constructed the temple – however so would the notion, developed within the nineteenth century, that they include the very essence of Greek nationhood.)

There is no such thing as a different artefact in a UK museum that operates in fairly the identical approach because the Parthenon assemblage within the Duveen Gallery of the British Museum; nothing else that arouses so many passions and disagreements; nothing that's succesful, even, of often souring relations between two in any other case pleasant nations.

Leaving apart the “skinny finish of the wedge” argument for a second, contemplate this: what if that act of restitution was regarded not as a loss, however as a achieve?

The objection to this perspective could seem speedy and apparent: objects are objects; they occupy bodily area; you both have them otherwise you don’t. However sensible proof suggests one thing quite completely different. Take, for example, Manchester Museum – a college organisation unbound by the type of authorized constraints that forestall the British Museum from deaccessioning objects. This museum, housed in an impressive Victorian constructing by Alfred Waterhouse, is dwelling to a outstanding assortment starting from historic Egyptian and Sudanese artefacts by to, in its vivarium, a small breeding inhabitants of the variable harlequin toad, a creature critically endangered in its dwelling territory of Panama.

Subsequent month the museum reopens after a £15m renovation. And never only a bodily renovation, however an moral one, too. Its director, Esme Ward, instructed me that she has been decided to broaden the definition of the concept of “care” that sits on the coronary heart of the concept of curatorship. She believes that curatorship ought to transcend the essential obligation of a museum to protect artefacts; it must also look after its neighborhood.

The revamped Manchester Museum will do that in new methods, a few of them quite simple – the truth that there shall be correct area for folks with extreme disabilities, the truth that the picnic space for guests who can’t afford to eat within the cafe is a stunning and welcoming room, the truth that the museum is already used as a specialist school for younger, neurodiverse adults. (To those that say this kind of factor is pure fashionable wokery and never a job for this type of establishment, Ward factors again to a distinguished historical past of socially accountable museums together with the Manchester Artwork Museum. Organised on Ruskinian rules in industrial Ancoats within the late nineteenth century, it supplied a “poor man’s lawyer” and golf equipment for youngsters and disabled folks, alongside its assortment of lovely artworks.)

Manchester Museum, ahead of its reopening after a £15m refurbishment, 19 January.
Manchester Museum, forward of its reopening after a £15m refurbishment, 19 January 2023. Photograph: Oli Scarff/AFP/Getty Photographs

On this definition, or growth, of the concept of curatorship, it solely is sensible that a museum ought to regard itself as having moral duty in direction of, say, indigenous communities from whom a few of its collections are drawn, she argues. And so, after lengthy conversations and exchanges, in 2020, Manchester Museum returned 43 sacred objects to the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Research.

When Ward speaks about this, she speaks solely of the achieve to the establishment. Above all it's a achieve in information; the type of haptic, experiential information of place and use that may be absent from dry descriptions of artefacts in museum catalogues. The achieve can be by means of a relationship with the Australian establishment – one which will end in long-term cooperation, together with doable loans to Manchester. And even thought of in bald binary phrases, her museum has “misplaced” solely 43 assortment gadgets out of round 4,000 referring to Aboriginal communities.

None of that is ever simple. In her BBC interview, Donelan touched on the complexities of return, and he or she is definitely proper about that. The query of to whom objects needs to be returned when the communities who made them are gone or remodeled, or when there could also be competing claims within the nation of origin, is just not easy. (A mischief maker, for instance, would possibly cheekily recommend that the Parthenon sculptures needs to be “returned” to Istanbul, since Athens was beneath Ottoman rule when Elgin eliminated them.) All that's earlier than you even get on to the intricacies of building how objects had been initially acquired, particularly when “legally” or “throughout the regulation on the time” could also be doing quite a lot of work to easy over circumstances which will nicely have been unjust or coercive. Every object is completely different; every object requires its personal consideration and calls for its personal analysis.

So far as the Parthenon sculptures go, it’s doable that latest hypothesis – and for some, wild hope – might have led to exaggerating how shut Britain and Greece are to agreeing a settlement. The newest British Museum place – and as normal, there’s a contact of the delphic oracle about it, in its opacity if not its poeticism – states that “we function throughout the regulation and we’re not going to dismantle the museum’s assortment because it tells the story of our widespread humanity. We're nonetheless longterm partnerships, which might allow a few of our biggest objects to be shared with audiences all over the world. Discussions with Greece a few Parthenon Partnership are ongoing and constructive.”

Make of that what you'll. In my view, I do suppose issues are shifting, however maybe not in a course of merely “restitute” or “maintain”. Perhaps the route out is just not binary – maybe to see the surviving parts of the Parthenon frieze and pediments reassembled, it can want Greece and Britain each to lend their sculptures to a 3rd nation. I don’t know; however what I do know is that to interrupt the deadlock, the same old methods of pondering, and the same old methods of framing concepts about cultural restitution, are going to have to vary.

  • Charlotte Higgins is the Guardian’s chief tradition author

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