Do you remember your first visit to the British Museum? I do. My mother dragged me up the stairs, past the Greek columns and the “pay what you can” boxes, and took me to the Egyptian gallery, where I looked at the mummified cat and peered through my hands at the mummified cat. sarcophagi. I didn’t wonder how these objects ended up in the British Museum, about 3,000 miles from Egypt. The pageantry of information screens and shop windows have all served to cement their place right here in the UK. It seemed almost impossible to imagine them anywhere else.
The WB prides itself on holding more than 100,000 Egyptian objects, the largest collection outside Egypt. Of course, this isn’t the only gallery: there are galleries dedicated to the Americas, Asia, Africa and ancient Greece. The expansive map highlights must-see highlights, like the Hoa Hakananai’a statue from Easter Island and the Benin Bronzes, from an ancient West African kingdom located in what is now Nigeria.
For years, these beautiful objects have been at the center of a passionate debate. Cultural institutions like the BM claim they belong to the UK. The descendants of those who created these works say otherwise. At the heart of this question is a simple question: Who owns the story? Are these the victors of battles fought centuries ago, or those whose great-great-great-grandparents poured their blood, sweat and soul into these pieces?
When the British Museum tweeted that he was “in solidarity with the black community around the world,” dozens of people pointed out that the return of these disputed objects could be a good place to start. Hoa Hakananai’a was captured off the coast of Easter Island and presented to Queen Victoria – his name is commonly translated as “lost friend” or “stolen friend”. The Benin bronzes were looted from the royal palace of his oba (ruler). Even the Rosetta Stone arrived here with the words “Captured in Egypt by the British Army”.
The Easter Islands, Egyptians And Nigerians are not the only ones calling for Britain to restore its cultural heritage. Greece wants the Parthenon marbles. Ethiopia wants Sacred maqdala tabots, which symbolize the Ark of the Covenant. One of India’s largest Buddhist shrines – the Amaravati Stupa – was dismantled and destroyed during the Raj. People want that back too. A sixth-generation descendant of Aboriginal warrior Cooman says he keep coming to London until they return his ancestor’s shield, which he believes was stolen by Captain Cook.
Britain finds itself at a unique moment in its history. Thousands of people took part in Black Lives Matter protests across the UK, and not just out of a sense of transatlantic solidarity. They see the nightmare of American police brutality reflected in the deaths of Sheku Bayoh and Jimmy Mubenga. They wonder why children don’t learn the full extent of our involvement in slavery. In Bristol, protesters tore down the statue of Edward Colston, an English slave trader who enriched himself by trafficking 84,000 African men, women and children. East London did the same with its statue of Robert Milligan and, as a direct result, Mayor Sadiq Khan is now to see existence again of similar monuments in the capital.
We are confronting our colonial past, and it is painful and real. Inanimate objects are full of meaning and emotion. They speak to us, their descendants and heirs of this history, through the centuries. Part of this is the recognition that our homeland has deeply wronged its people and that those wounds have not yet healed. How else can we describe the pain and anguish expressed by the governor of Easter Island, who said in tears of Hoa Hakananai’a remaining in the United Kingdom: “You, the British people, have our soul”?
