Geschichtskultur Durch Restitution?: Ein Kunst-Historikerstreit (Beitrage Zur Geschichtskultur, 40) (German Edition) 9783412518608, 9783412527839, 3412518603

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Thomas Sandkühler, Angelika Epple, Jürgen Zimmerer (Eds.)

Historical Culture by Restitution? A Debate on Art, Museums, and Justice

Thomas Sandkühler / Angelika Epple / Jürgen Zimmerer (Eds.)

Historical Culture by Restitution? A Debate on Art, Museums, and Justice Translated from the German by Karin Hielscher With a preface to the English edition by H. Glenn Penny

BÖHLAU VERLAG WIEN ⋅ KÖLN

This publication was kindly supported by the Humboldt-University of Berlin and the Collaborative Research Center “Practices of Comparing. Ordering and Changing the World” of the Bielefeld University.

Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek: The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data available online: https://dnb.de. © 2023 by Böhlau, Lindenstraße 14, D-50674 Cologne, Germany, an imprint of the Brill-Group (Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands; Brill USA Inc., Boston MA, USA; Brill Asia Pte Ltd, Singapore; Brill Deutschland GmbH, Paderborn, Germany, Brill Österreich GmbH, Vienna, Austria) Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Hotei, Brill Schöningh, Brill Fink, Brill mentis, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, Böhlau, V&R unipress, and Wageningen Academic. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission from the publisher. Originally published in German as “Geschichtskultur durch Restitution? Ein Kunst-Historikerstreit”, Böhlau 2021, ISBN 978-3-412-51860-8. Cover image: Door of the Royal Palace of Abomey. Atelier Sossa Dede/phot. Ji-Elle (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Porte_du_palais_royal_d’AbomeyN°_71.1893.45.4-Musée_du_Quai_Branly_(1).jpg), https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/legalcode Cover design: Guido Klütsch, Cologne Typesetting: satz&sonders, Dülmen Printed and bound: Hubert & Co, Göttingen Printed in the EU Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht Verlage | www.vandenhoeck-ruprecht-verlage.com ISBN 978-3-412-52783-9

Table of Contents

H. Glenn Penny, University of California Los Angeles Preface to the English Edition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Thomas Sandkühler, Angelika Epple, Jürgen Zimmerer Restitution and Historical Culture in the (Post)Colonial Context. Facets of a Challenging Debate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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I.

Positions

Erhard Schüttpelz The Brief Moment of the Restitution Debate and its Long Duration. A Twin Text . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin Provenance Research between Politicized Truth Claims and Systemic Diversionary Tactics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Rebekka Habermas Rescue Paradigm and Preservation Fetishism or: The Restitution Debate—Deep-Rooted in European Modernity? . . . . . .

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Hermann Parzinger Shared Heritage as an Opportunity. Coming to Terms with the Colonial Past Means More than Restitution Alone . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113 Hartmut Dorgerloh Building Bridges—The Humboldt Forum in Berlin. Revisiting Approach and Content—How Engaging in Multi-Voiced Participation Can Create a New Awareness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 Mirjam Brusius Decolonize the Museum Island! Museum Narratives, Race Theory, and Opportunities in a Much Too Quiet Debate . . . . . . . . . 139

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II.

Table of Contents

Case Studies

Benno Nietzel Protection of Cultural Property in Europe since the 19th Century between Legalization and Colonial Practice. Remarks from a Historical Perspective on the Current Debate . . . . . 161 Till Förster Alternatives to Restitution under Consideration. Local Perspectives on a Global Problem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177 Flower Manase Restitution and Repatriation of Objects of Colonial Context. The Status of Debates in Tanzania, Uganda, and Kenya National Museums . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195 Safua Akeli Amaama Restitution and Dialogue Towards Collaboration. Some Considerations from Samoa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 205 Osarhieme Benson Osadolor The Benin Sculptures. Colonial Injustice and the Restitution Question . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221 Lukas H. Meyer Justice in Time. A Future-Oriented Rationale for Returning the Padrão from Germany to Namibia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237

III.

A Postcolonial Germany?

Andreas Eckert The “Rediscovery” of German Colonialism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259 Thomas Thiemeyer Postcolonial Germany? Genealogical and Cosmopolitan Memory Culture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275 David Simo Forms and Functions of the Memory of Colonization. The Humboldt Forum and Postcolonial Germany . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 295 Viola König The Berlin Ethnologisches Museum. Its New Role as a Catalyst in the Humboldt Forum and the Implications for the German Restitution Debate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 313

Table of Contents

IV.

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Legal History and Historical Culture

Sheila Heidt Colonial Injustice, Restitution Claims, and Provenance Research . . 335 Matthias Goldmann, Beatriz von Loebenstein Thieves in the Temple. On the Role of Legal Provenance Research in the Restitution of Colonial Artefacts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 361 Judith Hackmack, Wolfgang Kaleck Why Restitutions Matter. A Legal Reasoning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 399 Bettina Brockmeyer One Tooth, One Film, and One (Hi)Story? Reflections on the Role of Historiography in the Restitution Debates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 425 Christoph Zuschlag Provenance, Restitution, and Historical Culture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 443 List of authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 461 Acknowledgments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 469

H. Glenn Penny, University of California Los Angeles

Preface to the English Edition

While ethnological museums have been quietly returning small numbers of objects to their places of origin for quite some time, there is no question that the last decade saw a marked increase in the calls to decolonize museums and to return large numbers of objects. The breadth and depth of the discussions and debates that followed those calls took place on an increasingly global platform, and they have been remarkable, even transformative, on multiple intellectual and political levels. This book offers a useful introduction to a particularly German debate about that topic. It also throws a great deal of light on some critical shifts in German culture, society, and politics during that time. These insights should be of great interest to activists, curators, lawyers, politicians, scholars, students, and others outside of Germany who are concerned with broader questions of restitution and / or the future of ethnological museums. When the German version of this volume appeared in 2021, the editors cast it as a book about “a battle among art historians,” and they placed an image of one of the famous Benin bronze castings on its cover. Both the image and phrase would have had great resonance for German readers. German-language newspapers had been awash for years in debates about Berlin’s Humboldt Forum, German colonialism, and restitution. During those debates, ethnological museums received unprecedented public and scholarly attention, and the Benin bronzes were almost always somewhere near the dynamic center. Those debates were, in fact, much further reaching than the book’s subtitle implied. As the editors note in the introduction to this English edition, the public debates in Germany were part of “an interdisciplinary discourse,” which included ethnologists, historians, lawyers, philosophers, not to mention European and nonEuropean activists who spoke up at public rallies as well as scholarly meetings—ensuring that the debate would not be quelled or swept away. The semiotics are instructive. During the last decade, the Benin bronzes became a poster child for the restitution debates in Germany and elsewhere. One is tempted to call them a leitmotif; but it was more than that. Many

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H. Glenn Penny, University of California Los Angeles

believed that the British military’s 1897 seizure of priceless cultural objects from the palace of Benin during an unequivocal act of colonial violence underscored the moral imperative of restitution. The Benin bronzes were undeniably high art, of incredible importance to Benin, and of unquestionable value to everyone’s understanding of African cultures and histories. For it was these objects that forced Europeans and others to recognize soon after their capture that the technical skills of the Africans who had produced them centuries earlier were just as good if not better than their European counterparts. Moreover, it was while securing subsets of this horde of objects, which British forces sold on open markets, that the Berlin anthropologist Felix von Luschan and others fashioned many of their arguments against racist characterizations of Africa and Africans. The fact that Luschan championed Africans’ humanity and denounced race theories while also remaining a strong (Austrian) advocate of German nationalism and imperialism is only one of the many ambivalences that strike many of us today as contradictions. Yet it is only through unpacking such contradictions that we can understand the histories that produced the collections that brought millions of such objects into German ethnological museums. Historical understanding is worth pursuing, even if it requires us to engage disconcerting complexities. Too often the public debates that took shape in Germany and elsewhere over the last decade depended on arguments that flattened or reified the histories of the objects that flowed into European museums as well as the motivations and interests of the people driving that process. Complexity was often abandoned to polemics. The colonial history of the Benin bronzes, for example, did not start in 1897. In some ways, they were the product of European colonialism and imperialism. African artisans fashioned them from metals they acquired from Europeans during the Benin kingdom’s long and active participation in the Atlantic slave trade. Moreover, while there is no question that colonial conquest brought them to Europe, neither German collectors, nor Imperial Germany, nor German colonial forces had anything to do with that. Those that ended up in Germany (as well as other locations beyond Great Britain) did so through a wide range of people’s participation in an emerging international market in material culture that was part and parcel of European capitalism in an age of empire. That broader context sometimes has made blame and responsibility difficult to assess, leading polemicists to fashion arguments that have ranged from an unwillingness to criticize anyone involved in these museum acquisitions to blanket condemnations of entire societies. Some of that material can be found in the annotations to the essays in this volume; but it is not particularly rewarding reading. More important have been the

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discussions of to whom the Benin bronzes and other objects that found their way to German museums might be ‘restored’. In many cases, the origins are unknown. Some may never be known. In other cases, where the origins are clear, the claimants may not exist; descendants of the people who produced the objects may not have an interest in them; or there may be many competing claimants. In that sense, the recent debates around the Benin bronzes have also been exemplary, for that putatively clear-cut case has proven to be more complex than many made it out to be, as multiple contributors to this volume explain. Yet the stunning thing about the restitution story in contemporary Germany, particularly when viewed from the polemical outbursts that erupted in 2017, is that an incredibly diverse group of participants have negotiated many of these conundrums in a relatively short period of time. The Benin bronzes, for example, will be returned, and while that process continues to play out, we will continue to witness a new era of collaboration in which many Germans and German institutions have taken leading roles. While reflecting on that fact, it is worth bearing in mind that when the German debates about restitution became particularly heated in 2017, the Federal Republic of Germany had nothing like the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (enacted in the USA in 1990). There were no clear guidelines for museum administrators to follow and no clear authority who might direct actions. Consequently, the rapid transition captured in this volume required some heavy lifting. To begin with, Germany’s Federal Government cannot simply dictate policy to the governments and institutions in its sixteen member states when it comes to cultural affairs. Bringing together those cultural ministries, museum administrations, local authorities, and what some might term “stakeholders,” required both a strength of vision and a force of will. Its success, which seems to have astonished many of the contributors to this volume as well as a good number of outside observers, speaks to the degree to which, despite all the polemics, consensus was being forged in Germany’s public sphere. The critical debate, in other words, has been incredibly productive. But there is more: if the German debates about the restitution of ethnological objects always took place against the backdrop of German efforts to come to terms with the crimes of National Socialism, which also included the restitution of objects in public museums to individuals and families, the place of German ideas about, and memories of, German colonialism and empire-building ultimately grew to overshadow those contexts. Initially, many pundits strove to link the two, giving the second more weight; but a judicious reading of the materials in this volume’s annotations makes it clear that many participants in these German debates

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H. Glenn Penny, University of California Los Angeles

found that increasingly unnecessary. As a wide range of people raised Germans’ awareness of their country’s colonial past, that history carried its own imperatives. In short, the rapid shift in the official, private, and public discourse about restitution in Germany has been accompanied by, and to some degree driven by, the discursive shift is the place of German colonialism in German history and memory today. That has included the individual and intertwined histories of the sixteen federated states as well as the many cities, regions, and towns within them. Only a few decades ago, as Global Historian Sebastian Conrad recently remarked, little attention was paid to German colonialism, or to colonialism and imperialism more generally, at German universities. Today, however, most of the history departments across Germany offer courses in colonialism, and the number of PhDs produced at German universities on colonial topics has skyrocketed. 1 That shift in research includes the many museums spread across this polycentric institutional landscape, the vast majority of which have taken on topics that interrogate the role of colonialism and empire in shaping the German nation-state, one or more of the federal states, not to mention their own locations, their collections, and their local polities. Consequently, the once radical call to decolonize those museums became surprisingly mainstream in just a matter of years. Much, however, remains to be done. As the contributions to this volume indicate, the lion’s share of the attention in these debates has been directed toward stunning pieces of art akin to the Benin bronzes and a limited number of exceptional objects. That has been true even though most of the objects in German ethnological museums are quotidian things. Similarly, if Germany’s ethnological museums are filled with items from all over the world, most of the debate, like most of the essays in this volume, has focused on Africa. Even there, Namibia holds the pride of place, while the other former German colonies, not to mention the rest of the continent, gain much less attention. Yet they were of no less interest to the people who created German ethnological museums or filled them with collections. Nor, for that matter, were the multiplicities of cultures in the rest of the world. Most people who have followed the restitution debates in Germany would be hard-pressed to understand that, as Viola König remarks in this volume, the greatest concentration of material in Berlin’s Ethnological Museum stems from the Americas. That is true even though this museum

1 Sebastian Conrad: Colonizing the Nineteenth Century: Implications of a Paradigm Shift. In: Central European History 51 (2018), pp. 674–678.

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had a monopoly on the acquisition of objects from the German colonies. Meanwhile, the collections from the Pacific, while they have been given some space in this volume, and in the debates more generally, hardly get the attention they deserve. In part, that is because political rather than intellectual agendas have driven so much of the discussions. One might hope that soon will change. What remains to be seen, in fact, is what the future may bring after decolonizing is completed. The call to decolonize museums in Germany is, after all, a re-active response to revelations about the ways in which colonial contexts shaped the thinking about the museums’ acquisitions as well as the acquisitions themselves. Decolonizing alone is not a proactive, or forward-thinking position, which might help us move toward harnessing the collections for knowledge production. Consequently, we cannot stop there. As we move forward, the fate of the Benin bronzes likely will offer a kind of template for the fate of many other exceptional objects and collections. It remains to be seen, however if the people who have participated so actively in these debates will have the courage to not only support (financially as well as morally) the decolonization of museums but also endorse a move beyond colonial questions. Will curators and others be able to seize the moment to free all the objects in their collections? Will they be willing and able to not only delve into the origins and pasts of all the objects in the collections but also interrogate them about their futures? There is no question that the many objects (and entities) in these collections have much to teach us about the complexities of human cultures and histories. To do that, however, we must not only rethink our research methods and transform the museum depots from sites of storage to places that care for collections and offer a small number of people research opportunities. We also must learn to interact with the objects in new ways. The question at hand is if the moment of great self-reflection articulated through the restitution debates will provide the support for museums to move beyond being places in which objects are used as illustrations for curatorial narratives. Will the museums be able to become institutions in which the objects act as interlocutors through juxtapositions? Might they become places where knowledge is produced and not merely disseminated? The history captured in this volume makes it clear that is possible; but it will require further strength of vision and conviction of purpose to realize.

Thomas Sandkühler, Angelika Epple, Jürgen Zimmerer

Restitution and Historical Culture in the (Post)Colonial Context. Facets of a Challenging Debate* 1 Colonial Appropriation On June 5, 1799, Alexander von Humboldt reached Venezuela on his voyage of discovery to South America. Ten years earlier, he had studied comparative anatomy with the famous Göttingen scientist Johann Friedrich Blumenbach. Remaining loyal to his former mentor, he actively supported Blumenbach’s ambitious project of collecting human skulls worldwide. Therefore, he contributed to the progress of this project when in Venezuela. Humboldt noted in his diary: “We were looking for quite characteristic skulls for [Johann Friedrich] Blumenbach and therefore opened many mapires [baskets]. Poor people, they disturb your peace even in the graves! The Indians looked upon this operation with great displeasure, especially a few Indians [from] Guaicia, who had known white people for hardly more than four months. We collected skulls, a child’s skeleton, and two adults’ skeletons.” 1

* This essay is the updated and expanded version of our introduction to the German edition of the present book (Thomas Sandkühler, Angelika Epple, Jürgen Zimmerer (Eds.): Geschichtskultur durch Restitution? Ein Kunst-Historikerstreit, Cologne, Vienna, Weimar 2021 (Beiträge zur Geschichtskultur, Vol. 40), pp. 9–33). A note on citation: German terms and titles (in some contributions also foreign-language terms), as well as the names of daily and weekly newspapers, are given in italics in this book, as are emphases by the respective authors. 1 Quoted from Margot Faak (Ed.): Alexander von Humboldt: Reise durch Venezuela. Auswahl aus den amerikanischen Reisetagebüchern. Berlin 2000, pp. 324 sq. The editor of this travel diary provides a chronology allowing to date Humboldt’s theft of human remains to the end of May 1800. See https://ed.-humboldt.de/chronologie/ detail.xql?id=H0014909&l=de (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023). Eight years later, Humboldt referred to the event and confirmed the transfer of a skull taken from Venezuela to Blumenbach’s collection. He wrote: “We left the cave at nightfall, having collected several skulls and the complete skeleton of an aged man—to the greatest annoyance of our Indian guides. One of these skulls has been depicted by Mr. Blumenbach in his excellent craniological work.” Alexander von Humboldt: Ansichten

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It is rare to find any passages in the texts of European world travelers that refer to Europeans as “white people.” In colonial contexts, color coding usually relates to people of other world regions. When Humboldt casts a glance at Europeans as foreign invaders, the momentary change of perspective flashes the irritating contradictions inherent in colonialism as a system founded on violence, oppression, and annihilation. Humboldt was a convinced abolitionist. At the same time, he was an actor within global power relations he helped to support in many ways. 2 Regardless of any legitimate moral doubts expressed in the quote above, Humboldt continues with the excavations. “Night fell while we were still digging among the bones.” With the help of a worldwide network—and thanks to the Royal Navy, which rather readily transported explorers and their finds 3—Johann Friedrich Blumenbach assembled more than 200 human skulls for his Göttingen collection, regarded highly in the scholarly world of the time. Until today, one finds the skulls stored for research purposes in the Center for Anatomy of the Georg-August-University archives. Change of scene: one hundred years after Humboldt’s voyages, another actor, a similar context. The influential director of the Africa and Oceania departments of the Berlin Museum für Völkerkunde (i.e., literally Museum for the Sciences of Peoples, the former German term for ethnology) Felix von Luschan works vigorously on building up “his” collections. To this end, he deliberately uses the means of the colonial state. After all, since 1884, the German Empire has formally reached colonial power status. As early as 1897, the physician Richard Kandt wrote to Luschan from the East African region, which had been placed under German “protection” a few years earlier: “In general, it is very difficult to obtain an object without using at least a little force.” Consequently, Kandt estimated: “I believe that half of your museum comprises stolen [goods].” 4

der Natur mit wissenschaftlichen Erläuterungen [. . . ]. Vol. 1. [Pre-release in excerpts, part 2 of 2.] In: Morgenblatt für gebildete Stände (1808), No. 50, pp. 197–199, p. 199. See Deutsches Textarchiv, https://www.deutschestextarchiv.de/book/view/humboldt_ natur02_1808?p=3 (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023). 2 See Angelika Epple: Inventing White Beauty and Fighting Black Slavery. How Blumenbach, Humboldt, and Arango y Parreño Contributed to Cuban Race Comparisons in the Long Nineteenth Century. In: Angelika Epple, Walter Erhart, Johannes Grave (Eds.): Practices of Comparing. Towards a New Understanding of a Fundamental Human Practice. Bielefeld 2020, pp. 295–328, https://www.transcript-verlag.de/ 978-3-83765166-9/practices-of-comparing/?c=331021469 (retrieved Dec. 4, 2020). 3 See Julia Angster: Erdbeeren und Piraten. Die Royal Navy und die Ordnung der Welt, 1770–1880. Goettingen 2012. 4 Quoted from Regina Sarreiter: “Ich glaube, dass die Hälfte ihres Museums gestohlen ist.” In: Regina Sarreiter, Anette Hoffmann, Britta Lange: Was Wir Sehen. Bilder, Stimmen, Rauschen. Zur Kritik anthropometrischen Sammelns. Publication accompanying

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When Luschan traveled to what was then British southern Africa in 1905, only three years after the end of the “Second Boer War,” he took the opportunity on the spot to “measure people and acquire objects for the Berlin Ethnological Museum.” As a matter of course, Luschan made use of the power of the competing colonial power. He conducted his research in police stations, passport offices, and prisons—places that left the colonized no way to escape “the humiliating practices of Luschan and other explorers who had preceded him or would follow.” 5 Change of scene to 2011 in Cairo: Luschan’s Egyptian colleague Zahi Hawass, long-time director of the Supreme Council of Antiquities, the central administration of archaeological properties in Egypt, publicly demands the return of the bust of Nefertiti exhibited in the Berlin Neues Museum. 6 Ludwig Borchardt and his team had excavated the bust in Amarna in 1912 and brought it to Germany thanks to a so-called division of finds. There were concrete accusations of fraud in this division of archaeological finds as well as fundamental objections since Egypt was under British rule at the time and, on top, the French headed the Egyptian state administration of antiquities. Thus the Europeans, by personal union arrangement, had lain down the rules according to which they subsequently divided archaeological finds among themselves, so the reproach. Besides, there had already been demands for restitution immediately after the end of the First World War. The Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz (i.e., Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation), the current owner of the bust, refused. 7 Moreover, Germany turned down requests from Egypt to send the iconic piece on loan to the Nile from sheer fear that Nefertiti would not return. Change of scene to the Humboldt Forum: The recently completed reconstruction of the Hohenzollern Palace in the center of Berlin has taken over the collections of the Ethnological Museum and the Museum of Asian Art. Both state museums, previously located in Berlin-Dahlem, belong to

the exhibition “Was Wir Sehen” in the Pergamon-Palais of the Berlin HumboldtUniversity, May 15-June 6, Berlin 2012. Basel 2012, pp. 43–58; quotes on pp. 53 and 56. 5 Ibid., p. 53. 6 See Gert von Paczensky, Herbert Ganslmayr: Nofretete will nach Hause. Europa, Schatzhaus der “Dritten Welt.” Munich 1984; Bénédicte Savoy (Ed.): Nofretete. Eine deutsch-französische Affäre 1912–1931. Cologne etc. 2011; Joyce Tyldesley: Mythos Nofretete. Die Geschichte einer Ikone. Stuttgart 2019; see also the following contributions by Mirjam Brusius, Viola König, Matthias Goldmann and Beatriz von Loebenstein, and Christoph Zuschlag. 7 See Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz, http://www.preussischer-kulturbesitz.de/mel dung/article/2011/01/24/pressemeldung-zur-bueste-der-nofretete.html (retrieved Dec. 21, 2020).

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the Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz. After all, the public saw a heated debate flare up about these museums’ artworks and cultural treasures bearing the impress of colonial rule. A few days in advance of the Humboldt Forum’s opening, the Nigerian ambassador to Germany reactivated his demand for the return of the Benin bronzes—a request, he had already handed over to the German government in 2019. 8 The art objects from the former Kingdom of Benin, now Nigeria, were part of the booty British troops looted during an invasion justified as “punitive action” in 1897. Meanwhile, the bronzes got scattered among various museums worldwide. 9 The most extensive holdings are in the British Museum in London and the Ethnological Museum in Berlin. According to information provided by the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation in 2018/19, 440 of the 580 bronzes housed in the German capital on the eve of the First World War were still in the foundation’s possession. In August 2022, however, the Stiftung, probably after a more thorough search, transferred the property rights of 512 existing Benin objects to the Nigerian government. 10 In more ways than one, the Benin bronzes have become emblematic of looted art from colonial times. On the one hand, they were probably among the first African objects to be recognized as art in Europe, thus changing the—racist—view of Africa, whose inhabitants had, until then, at best, been considered capable of artsy crafts. On the other hand, the bronzes became iconic for the topic of colonial looted goods; there had

8 See Paul Starzmann: Raubkunst-Streit überschattet Eröffnung des Humboldt-Forums. In: Tagesspiegel, Dec. 11, 2020, https://www.tagesspiegel.de/politik/nigeria-willbeninbronzen-zurueck-raubkunst-streit-ueberschattet-eroeffnung-des-humboldtforums/ 26707296.html (retrieved Jan. 3, 2021). 9 See the contribution by Osarhieme Osadolor to this volume. The Nigerian professor of History and International Studies was a member of the now concluded GermanNigerian research project “The Benin Bronzes. The Globalization of Colonial Art Theft.” The Gerda Henkel Foundation provided the funding for the project; Jürgen Zimmerer was the project lead. See “Die Benin-Bronzen. Die Globalisierung des kolonialen Kunstraubs,” https://lisa.gerda-henkel-stiftung.de/benin_bronzen?nav_ id=9412 (retrieved Dec. 10, 2020). 10 See Felix von Luschan und die Benin-Sammlung. In: Freunde des Ethnologischen Museums e. V., Jan. 17, 2018 (http://www.ethnofreunde-berlin.de/felix-von-luschanund-diebenin-sammlung/ (retrieved Dec. 10, 2020). See additionally the Federal Government’s answer of Sept. 12, 2019, to the officially submitted Small Inquiry of Aug. 22, 2019; the parliamentary group Bündnis 90/Die Grünen requested information on the topic of the “Benin Bronzes” housed by federally funded cultural property preserving institutions. https://kappertgonther.de/wp-content/uploads/2019/ 09/RS_KleineAnfrage-19_12576.pdf (retrieved Dec. 10, 2020), p. 2; press release of the Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Aug. 25, 2022, https://www.preussischerkulturbesitz.de/pressemitteilung/artikel/2022/08/25/rueckgabe-der-berliner-beninbronzen.html (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023).

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already been demands for the return of the bronze objects since the—at least ceremonial—reinstatement of the Oba of Benin after the First World War. The first demands for restitution made it to Germany as early as 1972. 11 Nothing came of it.

2 Traditions of the Restitution Debate The debate on restituting African art treasures had yet to get off the ground in public perception. There is no doubt that it marked a turning point when French President Emmanuel Macron held his Ouagadougou speech and commissioned the expert opinion from scholars Felwine Sarr and Bénédicte Savoy. However, the debate about the return of objects that Europeans had appropriated under colonial conditions is as old as the appropriations themselves. Europe was aware of the demands for restitution and, indeed, debated the issue for much longer than one may believe nowadays. As early as 1972, the Nigerian Department of Antiquities director approached the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation, referring to related advice from the International Association of Museums. In brief, the archaeologist Ekpo Eyo asked for permanent loans of objects he planned to showcase in the museums of the Nigerian state, which had become independent in 1960. 12 Despite initial support from the German Foreign Office, the attempt failed, likely due to resistance from the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation. The broader debate, once announced, was never held. The decolonization of large parts of the world, leading to the independence of 17 states in 1960 alone, also raised questions on the ownership of art objects anew. At the UN General Assembly in 1973, for example, Zaire’s president, Mobutu Sese Seko, advocated a UN resolution on restitution. “During the colonial period we suffered not only from colonialism, slavery, economic exploitation, but also and above all from the barbarous, systematic pillaging of all our works of art. In this way the rich countries appropriated our best, our unique works of art, and we are therefore poor not only economically but also culturally. [. . . ] I would also ask this General Assembly to adopt a resolution requesting the rich Powers which possess works of art of the poor

11 See Bénédicte Savoy: Ein Fall von Verschleppung. In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Dec. 15, 2020, https://www.faz.net/aktuell/feuilleton/debatten/verschleppungbene dicte-savoy-zur-rueckgabe-der-benin-bronzen-17101862.html (retrieved Dec. 20, 2020). 12 See ibid.

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countries to restore some of them so that we can teach our children and our grandchildren the history of their countries.” 13

Especially since the resolution implied a (general) duty of reparation on the part of the (former) colonial powers, it met with resistance. The voices of dissent watered it down further and further in the years that followed. Finally, the assembly reached a consensus only when the resolution had become substantially meaningless. 14 In Germany, the parties concerned certainly felt international pressure mounting as well. In the early 1980s, for example, Hildegard Hamm-Brücher, then Vice Secretary of State in the Foreign Office, expressed understanding “for the desire of many Third World countries to regain cultural assets that are important for their national identity.” 15 The forces of persistence were stronger. They relied on a line of argumentation that had remained relatively unchanged over the last forty years: There was no historical obligation to restitute. The objects belonged to the world heritage and should not serve the nationalism of postcolonial states. Moreover, the museums of the Global North had “saved” the objects from otherwise threatening destruction. For example, in the late 1970s, Stephan Waetzoldt, general director of the National Museums in Berlin, emphasized that it was “irresponsible to give in to the nationalism of the developing countries, on the chance of possible short-term political success.” 16 The director of the Hamburg Museum of Ethnology, Jürgen Zwernemann, justified this position by saying: “Much of what is preserved today in the museums of Europe and North America would have long since fallen into disrepair in its countries of origin.” 17 Hermann Parzinger, president of the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation, also argued in this tradition on the Nefertiti discovery’s centenary in 2012: “For me, the crucial thing is that these things happened completely 13 Quoted from the authorized English translation of Mobutu’s speech, originally held in French, General Assembly, 28th session: 2140th plenary meeting, Oct. 4, 1973, https:// digitallibrary.un.org/record/749800/files/A_PV-2140-EN.pdf?ln=en (retrieved Jan. 6, 2023). See also Bénédicte Savoy: Africa’s Struggle for Its Art. History of a Postcolonial Defeat. Princeton 2022, pp. 29 sq. In Savoy’s view, this address was the starting point, a kind of “year zero,” of the futile fight for restitution. 14 See Thomas Fitschen: 30 Jahre “Rückführung von Kulturgut.” Wie der Generalversammlung ihr Gegenstand abhanden kam. In: Vereinte Nationen. Zeitschrift für die Vereinten Nationen und ihre Sonderorganisationen (2004) No. 2, pp. 46–51. 15 Hildegard Hamm-Brücher, Aug. 11, 1982, quoted from Moritz Holfelder: Unser Raubgut. Eine Streitschrift zur kolonialen Debatte. Berlin 2019, p. 51. 16 Quoted from “Eingepackt – und ab in den Louvre.” In: Spiegel, Dec. 3, 1979, https:// www.spiegel.de/spiegel/print/d-39867543.html (retrieved Dec. 28, 2020). 17 Quoted from ibid.

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legally according to the laws of the time.” Furthermore, he noted: “Nefertiti is part of the cultural heritage of humankind. Basically, I don’t think a return just out of magnanimity is justifiable [. . . ].” 18 In recent years, however, voices of dissent have become louder in the public debate. For example, the German Museums Association dedicated its 2015 annual conference to the topic of colonial provenances from the ground up. Conference participants pointed out the generally unjust character of the colonial situation; even the demand for a reverse burden of proof at the expense of the museums in the Global North got voiced. 19 The 1970s accusation that the demand for restitution was aimed solely at “short-term political success” resurfaced when French President Emmanuel Macron clarified his position. In the capital of the West African country Burkina Faso, Ouagadougou, Macron declared on November 28, 2017, the eve of the Africa-Europe Summit at the University of Ouagadougou: “I refuse to [. . . ] refer back to [always] the same perceptions of the past. [. . . ] I am from a generation of French people for whom the crimes of European colonization cannot be disputed and are part of our history. [. . . ] The first remedy is culture. In this area, I cannot accept that a large share of several African countries’ cultural heritage [is] kept in France. [. . . ] African heritage cannot solely exist in private collections and European museums. [. . . ] Within five years, I want the conditions to exist for temporary or permanent returns of African heritage to Africa.” 20

Notwithstanding the other political goals Macron may have had in mind, the president pushed open the door to a new and intensified debate. Moreover, he continued to do so when he refrained from appointing a government commission or mandating museum curators but entrusted two intellectuals and scholars with the next step. He designated Felwine Sarr, a Senegalese economist and artist, and art historian Bénédicte Savoy, to prepare a report on the looted property stored in France and the possibilities for its return. Savoy had initially served on the Humboldt Forum’s expert advisory board. In July 2017, she resigned from the panel,

18 Hermann Parzinger interviewed by Marco Evers and Ulrike Knöfel: “Wir verschweigen nichts.” In: Spiegel, Dec. 3, 2012, https://www.spiegel.de/spiegel/print/ d89932590.html (retrieved Dec. 29, 2020). 19 See Die Biografie der Objekte. Provenienzforschung weiter denken. Jahrestagung des Deutschen Museumsbundes, Essen May 3-June 6, 2015; see for the aforementioned demand Jürgen Zimmerer: Kulturgut aus der Kolonialzeit. Ein schwieriges Erbe? In: Museumskunde 80 (2015) No. 2, pp. 22–25. 20 Emmanuel Macron: Speech at the University of Ouagadougou, Nov. 28, 2017. https:// www.elysee.fr/en/emmanuel-macron/2017/11/28/emmanuel-macrons-speech-atthe-university-of-ouagadougou (retrieved Sept. 2, 2022).

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comparing the planned museum to the Chornobyl disaster and the aftermath of colonial looting practices to nuclear radiation. 21 Sarr and Savoy presented their report in November 2018 and called the elephant in the room by its name. 22 The figures alone were shocking. According to the authors, 95 percent of all African cultural objects are located in Europe or, more generally, in the Global North. Individual museums hoard enormous amounts of things they never exhibit. To the surprise of many in Germany, the relevant Berlin museums, housing 75,000 collectibles of colonial provenance, rank in the top group. The museums in Paris and London also stand out: the Musée du Quai Branly features 70,000, the British Museum stores 69,000 items. Finally, the Koninklijk Museum voor Midden-Afrika (i.e., Royal Museum of Central Africa) houses no fewer than 180,000 assets from Belgian colonial times in Tervuren near Brussels. 23 The report did not aim for completeness. In Germany, many cities apart from Berlin are home to relevant museums, some of which have substantial colonial collections, for example, Hamburg, Leipzig, Cologne, and Munich. Sarr and Savoy emphasized that not merely were the circumstances of the acquisitions morally questionable, but culturally relevant objects are available in Africa only in fractions of the quantity showcased in European collections. Africans can only marvel at significant objects and study their own culture and history in the museums of the Global North. 24 Therefore, the authors call for a new ethic in dealing with Africa in general and the collections. The report attracted worldwide attention and increased pressure, especially in Germany, where the issue of dealing with the colonial legacy took on an urgency previously unknown. On the one hand, previous debates had already prepared the historical-political ground. The controversies dealt with Nazi plunder—triggered for the most part by the “Gurlitt case”—and the asserted continuity between the German colonial genocide against the Herero and Nama and the Nazi genocides. Besides, Germany 21 See Bénédicte Savoy: “Das Humboldt-Forum ist wie Tschernobyl.” In: Süddeutsche Zeitung, July 20, 2017, https://www.sueddeutsche.de/kultur/benedicte-savoy-ueberdashumboldt-forum-das-humboldt-forum-ist-wie-tschernobyl-1.3596423?reduced= true (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020); see also Viola König’s contribution to this volume. 22 See Felwine Sarr, Bénédicte Savoy: Rapport sur la restitution du patrimoine culturel africain. Vers une nouvelle éthique relationnelle. Paris 2018; Felwine Sarr, Bénédicte Savoy: The Restitution of African Cultural Heritage. Toward a New Relational Ethics. Paris 2018 (http://restitutionreport2018.com/sarr_savoy_en.pdf, retrieved Dec. 12, 2020); see for the moderately abridged German edition Felwine Sarr, Bénédicte Savoy: Zurückgeben. Über die Restitution afrikanischer Kulturgüter. Berlin 2019. 23 See Sarr, Savoy, Restitution (note 22), p. 15. 24 In addition, traveling expenses and visa regulations limit people’s access possibilities.

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has been officially negotiating with Namibia on compensation payments and an apology for German crimes since 2015. On the other hand, Sarr and Savoy’s report intensified the long-running debate on the Humboldt Forum’s colonial legacy and the inherent thematic complexes of “looted art” and colonial mass crimes. The sheer size and symbolic political significance of the Humboldt Forum led to a “perfect storm” blowing from the direction of the public and the media, which shook the foundations of the rebuilt Hohenzollern Palace or at least could have done so. A few weeks before Macron’s speech, the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation had initially dismissed criticism regarding the colonial provenance of exhibits at the future Humboldt Forum as “the silly season topic of 2017.” 25 Nevertheless, the German government responded proactively to the upcoming publication of the Sarr-Savoy report. In 2017, the Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media, Monika Grütters, had assigned the German Museums Association to prepare a detailed handout on how to deal with collections from colonial contexts. 26 Now, in May 2018, she invited an informal group of experts to the Federal Chancellery to discuss, among other things, the Macron initiative. Eventually, the group zeroed in on bureaucratizing the issue by narrowly interpreting restitution as equaling lengthy provenance research instead of seizing the opportunity of a symbolic commitment to returns. 27 The Humboldt Forum’s partial opening on December 16, 2020, nothing but contributed to the vague and ambiguous picture. The failure of those politically responsible for settling the question of how to deal with looted objects from colonial contexts in principle before the opening event

25 Savoy (note 21); see additionally Jürgen Zimmerer: Der Kolonialismus ist kein Spiel. Die Verantwortlichen für das Humboldt-Forum haben noch nicht verstanden, welche Objekte sie zeigen wollen. In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Aug. 16, 2017, https://kolonialismus.blogs.uni-hamburg.de/wp-content/uploads/170809_faz_ FD1201708095199377-1.pdf (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020); Invitation of the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation of Aug. 25, 2017, to a debate on provenance research: “Gehört Provenienzforschung zur DNA des Humboldt Forums?” (i.e., “Is Provenance Research Part of the DNA of the Humboldt Forum?”), quoted from Bénédicte Savoy: Der Savoy-Sarr-Restitutions-Report zur kolonialen Raubkunst: ein Jahr danach, lecture delivered at the Hamburg University, Jan. 8, 2020 (min. 26:20), https://lecture2go.unihamburg.de/l2go/-/get/l/5179/ (retrieved Jan. 11, 2021). 26 See Deutscher Museumsbund (Ed.): Leitfaden zum Umgang mit Sammlungsgut aus kolonialen Kontexten; see for the different versions produced in a consultative process https://www.museumsbund.de/publikationen/leitfaden-zum-umgang-mitsammlungsgut-aus-kolonialen-kontexten/ (retrieved Jan. 3, 2021). 27 See Jürgen Zimmerer: Die größte Identitätsdebatte unserer Zeit. In: Süddeutsche Zeitung, Febr. 20, 2019, https://www. sueddeutsche .de/kultur/kolonialismuspostkolonialismushumboldt-forum-raubkunst-1.4334846 (retrieved Jan. 3, 2021).

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resulted in the public’s preoccupation with the question of restituting colonial artifacts during the opening week. 28 However, given the programmatic imprecision that had prevailed in the preceding months and years, one could expect nothing more than lip service to dialogue on equal terms and the promise not to shirk challenging issues such as the colonial legacy. According to her opening speech, State Minister Grütters saw the Humboldt Forum all set for becoming a hub “in the spirit of Enlightenment, cosmopolitanism, and tolerance.” “It says a lot about Germany’s self-image in the 21st century that we do not focus on ourselves here but offer the stage to the cultures of Africa, the Americas, Asia, and Oceania—and their different world views. In Germany, the Humboldt Forum should be a benchmark and a model for handling cultural assets from colonial contexts—presenting the stories of origin, giving access to objects, and cooperating in the reappraisal of collections.” 29

Grütters carefully avoided the delicate topic of restitution. The announcement created a stir that an exhibition of collectibles from the Ethnological Museum would open its doors in September 2021, which actually happened. Current events determine what conclusions were drawn from what the Commissioner for Culture and the Media had said at the end of 2020—and which answers to the pending questions on dealing with controversial objects have been found in the meantime—more on this in the final section of this introduction.

3 Restitution and Historical Culture What does the discussion about African art and its possible restitution have to do with the topic of historical culture? Suppose we understand historical culture as the “practically effective articulation of historical consciousness in the life of a society.” In that case, according to historical theorist Jörn Rüsen, we must differentiate between historical culture’s cognitive-scientific, political, and aesthetic dimensions. 30 When Rüsen presented his concept in 1994, however, there was no talk of returning

28 See Starzmann (note 8). 29 Monika Grütters’s speech on the completion and opening of the Humboldt Forum on Dec. 16, 2020, https://www.bundesregierung.de/breg-de/aktuelles/rede-vonkulturstaatsministerin-gruetters-anlaesslich-der-fertigstellung-und-eroeffnung-deshumboldt-forums-1829224 (retrieved Jan. 3, 2021). 30 See Jörn Rüsen: Was ist Geschichtskultur? Überlegungen zu einer neuen Art, über Geschichte nachzudenken. In: Klaus Füßmann, Heinrich Theodor Grütter, Jörn Rüsen (Eds.): Historische Faszination. Geschichtskultur heute. Cologne, Weimar, Vienna 1994, pp. 3–26.

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colonial collection objects, at least neither in Germany nor in the museological context the author sought to address. At the time, Rüsen considered how historical culture would take shape in intertwined societies, in glocal (both local and global) or transnational contexts—and historical culture research has not yet caught up on the question. Suppose we can interpret the historical culture of a society as an expression of interweaving relationships and a way of dealing with such interdependencies. In that case, the concept of historical culture may contribute productively to the restitution debate in several respects. The art historian Christoph Zuschlag has pointed out, for example: “Both—the research on object biographies in the course of provenance research and the restitution that may follow as a consequence—form an essential and integral part of a society’s historical and commemorative culture.” 31

Still, we must supplement Zuschlag’s assumption when it comes to global history: The perspective’s horizon would have to encompass at least two societies, the “society of origin” and the society that currently holds the collectibles in question. However, in most cases, it is a matter of several social entities since colonialism rested upon manifold interconnected relationships between colonial powers and colonized societies. Additionally, the artifacts often traveled a long and tortuous path before ending up in a museum of the Global North. More generally, the discussion about restituting objects with a history of colonial appropriation pertains to all dimensions of historical culture. During the debate, it becomes apparent how a society’s historical culture is grounded in its (historical and current) interactions with other societies. And in the controversies about the shared histories of these societies surfaces a historical culture that has a global impact. However, such a historical culture is not necessarily mutually agreed upon. Rather, the historical cultures of different societies influence and shape each other, and this may (or may not) involve mutual understanding and reciprocal recognition. Evidence of global impacts is certainly easiest to provide for the scientific dimension. According to its claim, science always involves worldwide discussions. However, the global impact is also evident concerning the political dimension, e.g., when it comes to the question of restitution, and not least the aesthetic dimension, e.g., when it comes to classifying artifacts as “art” or as “everyday objects.”

31 See Christoph Zuschlag’s contribution to this volume.

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3.1 Science The Federal Republic of Germany has a problem with everyday racism. For this and other sound reasons, historical scholarship is well advised to come to terms with racist traditions in its discipline. We regard the present volume as our contribution to a critical revision of the profession and “the everyday foundations of our social interactions, especially and quite concretely in our academic work.” 32 When, by contrast, the former Federal Commissioner for Culture and the Media, Monika Grütters, referred to the dispute on restituting collection items of colonial provenance as an “art historian’s dispute,” this ignored crucial aspects of the problem at issue. From a scholarly point of view, only joint efforts of different disciplines can do justice to the highly complex topic of restitution. The controversy is international; however, pursuing the debate in Germany means doing so against a particular background. As a matter of course, Grütters cited the 1980s historians’ dispute (Historikerstreit) on the singularity of the Holocaust and the role of National Socialism in the historical consciousness of the Bonn Republic. It is important to be aware of the connections to this earlier dispute. Nevertheless, we should pay undistracted attention to the following key facts. Firstly, the current debate plays out in the international arena and constantly picks up on new impulses, most recently from the Black Lives Matter movement. And secondly, each generation must face the challenge anew to determine the inter-relations between racism, anti-Semitism, and colonialism. 33 In our view, this is not a dispute of art historians alone but an interdisciplinary discourse. Ethnologists, scholars of general and art history, philosophers, and lawyers debate historical, aesthetic, and political dimensions of restitution claims. Our book reflects the facets that historians, art historians, political scientists, and lawyers bring to a lively debate about art, museums, and law at the national and international levels.

32 Christina Morina, Norbert Frei: Rassismus und Geschichtswissenschaft, contribution to the scientific internet portal L. I. S.A, Sept. 24, 2020, https://lisa.gerda-henkelstiftung.de/rassismus_und_geschichtswissenschaft_morina_frei (retrieved Dec. 13, 2020). 33 See Michael Rothberg: Multidirectional Memory. Remembering the Holocaust in the Age of Decolonization. Stanford 2009. A German translation was published only recently: Multidirektionale Erinnerung. Holocaustgedenken im Zeitalter der Dekolonisierung. Berlin 2021. The book contributed to a fierce debate on the role of the Holocaust and colonial crimes in German historical consciousness. See further Aleida Assmann: Polarisieren oder solidarisieren? Ein Rückblick auf die MbembeDebatte. In: Merkur 75 (2021) No. 860, pp. 5–19, esp. p. 14.

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Anthropology, ethnology, art history, and the history of science have made essential contributions to provenance research and highlighted the historical and present significance of colonial collectibles. Provenance research is by no means just getting started; it is only now—in the wake of current developments—that researching object histories is receiving considerable public attention and funding. Still, research has to address in greater detail the questions of what ownership concepts colonizers used and how these conceptions interacted or conflicted with colonized cultures’ understandings of ownership. The debate allows us to focus on the historical and systematic connection between colonial knowledge systems and national self-understandings of the colonial states, which saw themselves in a race with other colonial powers for artworks and cultural objects from the Global South. Contributions to the discussion—regarding the origin of relevant artifacts—have zeroed in on the African continent, nationally, preferably on the former colonial territories of France, Germany, and Great Britain. It seems to be of secondary importance in the public eye that a considerable number of questionable colonial collectibles originate from the Americas and Oceania. 34 Therefore, we need to approach the issue in a new way and consider the global dimension of the problem. The research focus of historical sciences is the relations between global history, transnational history, and national history. While participating in the international debates on postcolonialism, historians research the history of European colonialism, its use of violence against local populations, and the persistently underestimated influence of colonialism on collective historical consciousness. For the early 19th-century German states, historian Susan Crane has noted a close connection between museumrelated collecting zeal and emerging historicism. 35 According to historian Rebekka Habermas, a specific motive underlay the spread of this zeal and the shift of interest to the non-European world. Colonized cultures were to be saved from the fate of oblivion that occidental progress threatened to bring to their doors and probably inevitably would force on them. The cultural treasures of the colonized were thus degraded to museum testimonies manifesting the contemporary way of European tradition formation. 36 Compared to other sub-disciplines, the contribution of history didactics and historical culture research to the current restitution debate is 34 See Safua Akeli’s and Viola König’s contributions to this volume. 35 See Susan A. Crane: Collecting and Historical Consciousness in Early NineteenthCentury Germany. Ithaca, London 2000. 36 See Rebekka Habermas’s contribution to this volume.

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modest. 37 Despite the apparent relevance of the topic, the experts remain silent and leave the terrain to other disciplines. Unsatisfactorily, Germanlanguage scholars of history didactics repeatedly declared elaborating on the global dimension of historical culture and historical learning imperative but have so far done little to suit the action to the word. 38 German legal history, all too often still narrowly Eurocentric, explores the extent to which legal systems imposed on the colonies determined the violent relationship between colonial rulers and colonized. From the beginning, colonialism was a project in which many European actors participated. Frequently, the intra-European competition was both the driving force and the expression of colonial ambitions. The mare liberum principle, formulated by the early-modern international lawyer Hugo Grotius, exemplifies that the conflict impacted the law. The formation of European notions of statehood, the interplay of international law and national interests, the emergence of local consumption patterns, and globally active trade networks—all these phenomena were closely intertwined long before the late 19th-century era of New Imperialism. Another questionable construction—the terra nullius, an alleged no man’s land—allowed Europeans access without hindrance. The Europeans drafted the principle against the background of a particular notion of the colonial territories. “In the infancy stage of ontogenesis,” the colonial territories lacked all characteristics needed for recognition as a subject of international law. Consequently, the respective European colonial power deemed itself entitled—and allegedly civilly obligated—to impose its legal order on the subjugated peoples and cultures (unless it seemed expedient to retain certain local traditions). 39 No wonder, given this stance on enforcing the colonial rule, the standards of the (European) international law of the time rendered taking away artifacts lawful. From today’s perspective arises in this regard the question of whether one can or should deem the positive and customary

37 See Thomas Sandkühler: Restitution and Historical Judgment. In: Public History Weekly 7 (2019) No. 9, dx.doi.org/10.1515/phw2019-13510. 38 Bernd-Stefan Grewe: Geschichtsdidaktik postkolonial. Eine Herausforderung. In: Zeitschrift für Geschichtsdidaktik 15 (2016), pp. 5–30; Michele Barricelli: Globales Lernen als unerfülltes Versprechen einer Geschichtsdidaktik im Augenblick der Öffnung. In: Idem et al.: Globalgeschichtliche Perspektiven und Globales Lernen im Geschichtsunterricht. Konzeptionelle Überlegungen zur Unterrichtsmaterialienreihe “Wissen um globale Verflechtungen.” Bielefeld 2018, pp. 12–16; Holger Thünemann: Geschichtskultur revisited. Versuch einer Bilanz nach drei Jahrzehnten. In: Thomas Sandkühler, Horst Walter Blanke (Eds.): Historisierung der Historik. Jörn Rüsen zum 80. Geburtstag. (Beiträge zur Geschichtskultur, Vol. 39). Cologne, Weimar, Vienna 2018, pp. 127–149, esp. p. 149. 39 See Sheila Heidt’s contribution to this volume.

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legal norms of the 19th and (early) 20th centuries still valid. Besides, the norms’ discourse-determining effects are also of interest. In criminal law, the Nuremberg Tribunal broke through the prohibition of retroactivity (nulla poena sine lege) recognized since antiquity by introducing a new crime category when trying the major war criminals: crimes against humanity. More and more signs point to the possibility that colonialism may classify as a comparable violation of elementary commandments of humanity. Hence, the legal principle that prohibits the retroactive application of laws under civil codes and international rules is in question. 40 Apart from that, the German debate so far has rarely addressed the self-understanding of the local elites interacting with the Europeans, their understanding of law and justice, their political agenda, and their chances to take the unequal relationship beyond sheer violent oppression and prevail on one or the other case. 41 The colonized proved the power of agency internationally during and after the 1950s and 1960s decolonization process. In the latter context, the United Nations and its relevant agencies, primarily UNESCO, adopted conventions and declarations, often referred to as soft laws. 42 Historians and legal scholars meanwhile research the body of international rules’ contemporary history. Against the background mentioned before, the common way of looking at restitution undoubtedly narrows the understanding of the term’s meaning to legal processes according to European standards. Still, when it comes to restituting objects from colonial collections, it is about more than a mere legal act. It is about justice and moral reparation. 43 Evidently, one object category accumulated to serve ethnological and anthropological research and for exhibition purposes of relevant museums calls particularly for making amends: human remains, in most cases, brought to Europe in ostentatious disregard of indigenous ideas and claims. In contrast to the heated debates on artifacts acquired in colonial times, hardly anyone speaks out against the legitimacy of demands to

40 See Matthias Goldmann’s and Beatriz von Loebenstein’s joint contribution to this volume. 41 See Larissa Förster: Wer fühlte sich beraubt? In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Nov. 25, 2018, https://www.faz.net/aktuell/feuilleton/debatten/koloniale-raubkunst-werfuehltesich-beraubt-15906194.html (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). 42 See Judith Hackmack’s und Wolfgang Kaleck’s contribution to this volume. 43 See Lukas H. Meyer’s contribution to this volume. We (the editors) also chose a title for this edition that differs from the German original (see note *) and explicitly addresses justice as a focal point of the ongoing restitution debate.

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return human remains. The implications involved in this question make it advisable to treat the issue separately. 44

3.2 Aesthetics The title of the German edition emphasized—borrowing from a prominent contribution to the controversy in Germany—the aesthetic aspect of the restitution debate by referring to the term “art historian’s dispute”. So, there is a certain irony in the fact that the aesthetic dimension does not play a prime role in the discussions. Admittedly, discussing the category’s implications also takes up only a minor number of lines in this introduction. Notwithstanding, this dimension—and we note this happily enough—is undeniably part of historical culture and, as an aesthetics, undisputed—in contrast to the question of what to do with colonially appropriated pieces today. However, one cannot subsume the category’s handling under “same as it ever was.” European scholars often misunderstood the artistic outputs of colonized peoples as non-artistic and saw in them nothing more than anthropological testimonies. The fact that Europeans could not or did not want to perceive the artistic quality of the objects is itself part of the colonial appropriation and legitimation process. Today, no one needs particular proof that the restitution debate has an aesthetic dimension. Even the imposing designs of the representative museum buildings in the 19th-century European capitals point to the aesthetic dimension. They reflected the respective elites’ understanding of national identity and expressed the national sense of mission. The assessment also holds for the already partially opened Humboldt Forum, the replica of a baroque palace in Berlin’s city center. (Postcolonial) Criticism emphasizes that such stoneformed self-images would have been inconceivable without the builders’ attitude of hierarchical superiority over non-European cultures that also underlay the procurement of the exhibits.

3.3 Politics The discussion about restituting objects housed in European collections has gained momentum in the feature pages and the political sphere of Germany since 2016. As we have seen, the debate has focused on the

44 The topic is only briefly touched upon in Bettina Brockmeyer’s contribution to this volume.

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Humboldt Forum, which has taken the place of the GDR-era Palace of the Republic. Many feel the move to present the Ethnological Museum’s artifacts to the public in grand, pseudo-Prussian architecture is a mockery of the very cultures from which the pieces were taken initially. And even more so when done without sufficiently reflecting on the colonial ambitions and traditions of Prussia and Prussia-dominated Germany. By ignoring that the collections of both museums, the Ethnological Museum and the Museum of Asian Art, comprise, to a considerable extent, looted art, the parties responsible burdened the Humboldt Forum with a highly problematic legacy. Therefore, critics dread the Forum is doomed to perpetuate colonial worldviews. 45 Yet, there are also critics of the critics, including opponents of restitution. On the one hand, their criticism aims at the interest-driven concept of property they found underlying the Sarr-Savoy report. Contrary to the authors’ postcolonial stance, Sarr and Savoy—quite naturally—elevated traditions of Roman law to the standard of transnational cultural policy. 46 On the other hand, they criticize the role that Sarr, Savoy, and others assign to restituted cultural assets in the nation-building process of African states as if it were desirable to enact a replay of nineteenth-century European nationalism on the southern continent. 47 One could summarize these reservations—topoi that, as we have seen, have a long tradition—under the key concept of Francophonie, i.e., the geopolitical instrumentalization by the back door of countries once part of the former French colonial empire and thus featuring French as (an) official language or link language. The Cameroonian historian Achille Mbembe, a professor in history and politics in South Africa and a prominent representative of postcolonial theory, argued more fundamentally. “Do we really want to live in a world where everyone and everything has to go back home?” asked Mbembe. In 45 See Jürgen Zimmerer: Humboldt, und was nun? Humboldt Forum, koloniale Amnesie und aktuelle Identitätsdebatten, post on the University of Hamburg’s blog, Oct. 23, 2019, https://lecture2go.uni-hamburg.de/l2go/ - /get/v/25233 (retrieved Jan. 11, 2021); “War Humboldt Kolonialist?” Horst Bredekamp und Jürgen Zimmerer im Streitgespräch. In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Jan. 3, 2019, https:// www.faz.net/aktuell/feuilleton/debatten/streitgespraech-ueber-raubkunst-mit-bre dekamp-und-zimmerer-15969024.html (retrieved Jan. 11, 2021); “Sie sehen in allem nur Ausbeutung.” Hermann Parzinger, Präsident der Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz, und der Hamburger Historiker Jürgen Zimmerer streiten über das Konzept des neuen Humboldt Forums, die Benin-Bronzen und den Kolonialismus. In: Zeit, July 27, 2019, https://www.zeit.de/zeit-geschichte/2019/04/humboldt-forum-kolonialis mus-hermann-parzinger-juergen-zimmerer?utm_referrer=https%3A%2F%2Fwww. google.com%2F (retrieved Jan. 11, 2021). 46 See Erhard Schüttpelz’s and Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin’s contributions to this volume. 47 See Patrick Bahners: Französisches Ausleerungsgeschäft. Der “Bericht über die Restitution afrikanischen Kulturerbes.” In: Merkur 73 (2019) No. 838, pp. 5–17.

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May 2018, he paralleled the restitution of objects with the return of people to draw attention to the double standards of European policy, accusing Europeans of trying to gain a good conscience on the cheap by restituting African artifacts. 48 Since then, Mbembe’s persona and public role got also linked to an emotionally charged dispute over criticism of Israel and anti-Semitism, kindled by the German government’s commissioner against anti-Semitism, Felix Klein. Klein and other critics accused Mbembe of being close to the antiIsrael movement Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS). 49 Certainly, Mbembe’s stance on the BDS and some of his statements are debatable. However, another aspect of the controversy is the primary concern in our context. Klein accused postcolonial studies in general, and Mbembe in particular, of espousing theories that would distinctly clash “with our memory culture.” Klein remarked that he “deems Germany’s culture of remembrance as an achievement. It may be that people in other countries are less sensitive to the delicate subject; however, a statement that is wrong from a German point of view doesn’t become right just because [the call] comes from the outside.” 50

As if it was nothing, Klein claimed the right to make the German memory culture the gauge for considerations abroad on how to know right from wrong. 51 The debate over Mbembe found its extended continuation in 2022 in a bitter dispute over Documenta 15, a tradition-rich exhibition of contemporary art in the Hessian city of Kassel. The Documenta directors had commissioned an Indonesian artists’ collective to curate the exhibition to make visible postcolonial perspectives on art and artists. Due to some problematic works, Documenta was very soon met with a sweeping accusation of anti-Semitism, which de facto derailed the project. The non-European protagonists repeatedly complained that they had been misunderstood and ignored by their German critics. 52

48 Mbembe, quoted from ibid., p. 6. 49 See Assmann (note 33), passim. 50 Felix Klein: Für eine Entschuldigung sehe ich keinen Anlass. Felix Klein im Interview mit Adam Soboczynski. In: Zeit, May 20, 2020, https://www.zeit.de/2020/22/ felix-klein-holocaust-achille-mbembe-proteste?utm_referrer=https%3A%2F%2Fwww. google.com% 2F (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). 51 See Andreas Eckert’s contribution to this volume. 52 There has been no scientific reappraisal of these events to date. The most detailed coverage currently available is by the German television channel Das Erste, the flagship channel of the German association of public broadcasting corporations (ARD):

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The German history of perpetration is exceedingly relevant to German identity. Yet, the same relevance may not apply to other parts of the world. Numerous Black scholars have criticized the political attitude to privilege Holocaust remembrance worldwide as a “white privilege” without intending to downplay the Nazi genocide. As already mentioned, historian Michael Rothberg’s plea for a multidirectional memory has among other contributions ignited a debate in Germany about the asserted singularity of the Holocaust and colonial violence that may eventually change the remembrance cultures of the country. 53 In any case, this quarrel represents a shift in German public interest. Cutting criticism points at the “West” and white elites’ self-perception and worldview in defiance of the reality at their doorsteps, increasingly shaped by immigration and diversity. Racism and knowledge systems imbued with racist attitudes get deplored. Indeed, colonial appropriation practices have left deep traces in the European continent’s historical consciousness and sciences. To reveal the bias, critics emphasize the existence of historic periods beyond Western periodization and the plurality of non-Western cultures. In many European countries and the Global South, numerous civic initiatives push for decolonizing the public space. To break the cycle of perpetuated racism, they demand the removal of historical markers, from monuments to street names deriving from colonial times. 54 Various voices have already emphasized the performative self-contradiction of positions that claim universal validity when they aim to critique Western universalism featuring human and civil rights at the center. 55 In Germany, some circumvent the self-contradiction when they postulate postcolonial objectives but give precedence to the focus on the mass crimes of National Socialism—as it most recently happened in the Causa Mbembe. Then again, observers state two corresponding phenomena: the death of the last survivors who could report from their own experience of Nazi persecution and mass murder, tantamount to the “end of contempo-

Die Story im Ersten. Der Documenta-Skandal, Sept. 19, 2022, https://www.daserste. de/information/reportage-dokumentation/dokus/sendung/der-documenta-skandal100.html (retrieved Jan. 6, 2023). The documentary will, however, be available only until Sept. 2023. 53 Susan Neiman, Michael Wildt (Eds.): Historiker streiten. Gewalt und Holocaust – die Debatte. Berlin 2022. 54 Dipesh Chakrabarty: Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference, Princeton 2000. 55 See Jörn Rüsen: Menschsein. Kognitive Kohärenz in disziplinärer Fragmentierung. In: Idem (Ed.): Perspektiven der Humanität. Menschsein im Diskurs der Disziplinen. Bielefeld 2010, pp. 11–39, esp. pp. 13–17.

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raneity,” and the decreasing relevance of National Socialism in the body of topics pertaining to the Federal Republic’s historical orientation. 56 The same critics see National Socialism as a period that has become history, and that merely lingers in the collective memory in the form of a, in parts, highly ritualized “culture of remembrance” increasingly bereft of meaning. 57 Still, on closer inspection, the supposed contradiction between a guiding perspective reframed toward National Socialist crimes and the declining relevance of Nazi history dissolves. Against the background of the described loss of orientation, we find two formerly separated concerns in combination: Reappraising the roots and origins of Nazi crimes in German colonialism, for example, in Namibia, results in a postcolonial renewal of the fading Holocaust memory—thereby addressing the altered needs of younger generations for historical orientation differently than in previous decades. The Holocaust regains topicality when historians approach German colonialism against the background of the Holocaust memory and discuss the connections to the events in the so-called German “Schutzgebiete” (i.e., protectorates). 58 However, there is a high price to pay for this approach in Germany: Those who focus primarily on National Socialism run the risk of neglecting the significance and global dimension of the crimes of colonialism. In that case, Humboldt’s desecrations of graves get lost from view, and nonEuropean voices get silenced. The strict thematic focus, closely linked to the history of German crimes in the 20th century, is a characteristic of the German discourse. Advocates of the approach disregard that colonialism has been an effect and motor of globalization processes since the early modern period. And national criteria do not allow us to assess the phenomenon adequately.

56 See Verena Nagel, Lena Kahle: Die universitäre Lehre über den Holocaust in Deutschland. Berlin 2018, https://refubium.fu-berlin.de/bitstream/handle/fub188/21625/ Naegel_Kahle_universitaere_Lehre_ueber_Holocaust_Deutschland.pdf?sequence= 7&isAllowed=y (retrieved Dec. 13, 2020). 57 See Volkhard Knigge: Abschied von der Erinnerung. Anmerkungen zum notwendigen Wandel der Gedenkkultur in Deutschland. In: Idem: Geschichte als Verunsicherung. Konzeptionen für ein historisches Begreifen des 20. Jahrhunderts, ed. by Axel Doßmann. Goettingen 2020, pp. 223–239; Per Leo: Tränen ohne Trauer. Nach der Erinnerungskultur. Stuttgart 2021. 58 See Jürgen Zimmerer: Von Windhuk nach Auschwitz? Beiträge zum Verhältnis von Kolonialismus und Holocaust. Münster 2011; Sybille Steinbacher: Sonderweg, Kolonialismus, Genozide. Der Holocaust im Spannungsfeld von Kontinuitäten und Diskontinuitäten der deutschen Geschichte. In: Frank Bajohr, Andrea Löw (Eds.): Der Holocaust. Ergebnisse und neue Fragen der Forschung. Frankfurt on the Main 2015, pp. 83–101.

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When it comes to the restitution debate’s political aspects, the controversy would take a step forward if we think outside the box of national history and choose a global perspective for discussing and researching historical culture. Opening up the narrow national-historical framework could also make an important contribution to readjusting the relationship between the memory of colonial and National Socialist crimes. Moreover, when we alter the basic research perspective toward global history, historical culture research can assess the potential for reconciling cultural diversity and humane universality through recognition based on hermeneutic understanding. 59 However, it is in the media debate’s logic that such arguments get rarely heard. Instead, the debaters fight bitterly over interpretive sovereignty in the field of historical culture and juxtapose differing views in irreconcilable opposition. Indeed, the restitution issue is, to a considerable extent, a question of power. Those who demand that European states return art treasures raise that question and fundamentally challenge the interpretational sovereignty and sole discretionary power of the European states. Even within former colonial states, groups that fell victim to colonial violence and do not feel adequately represented in the continuous nation-state of colonial provenance call into question their fair representation under international law and reclaim the power to have their say. Conversely, those who refuse to restitute objects of artistic or cultural value exercise power because those possessing a disputed artifact are, per se, in a stronger position than the counterparties. Admittedly, no museum in Germany or other European countries has so far disputed the justification of restitution claims in principle, mind you, beyond the issue of human remains. In individual cases, artifacts such as the so-called Padrão, formerly part of the German Historical Museum’s holdings, or personal valuables of the Nama leader Hendrik Witbooi got returned to the state of Namibia. 60 However, reservations against restitution have long prevailed in Germany and other European countries. This has begun to change only recently, as will be shown further down the line.

59 See Gerhard Kruip, Wolfgang Vögele (Eds.): Schatten der Differenz. Das Paradigma der Anerkennung und die Realität gesellschaftlicher Konflikte. Berlin etc. 2006; Jörn Rüsen: Der Ethnozentrismus und seine Überwindung. Ansätze zu einer Kultur der Anerkennung im 21. Jahrhundert. In: Michael Kastner, Eva-M. Neumann-Held, Christine Reick (Eds.): Kultursynergien oder Kulturkonflikte? Eine interdisziplinäre Fragestellung. Lengerich 2007, pp. 103–117. 60 The Stuttgart Linden Museum housed the personal objects previously. On the Padrão, see Lukas Meyer’s contribution to this volume.

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Given the vast number of relevant collectibles, museum directors anxiously wonder what will come about the institutions concerned and remaindered stocks if they do indeed restitute extensively. They also question whether the recipient countries have the museum infrastructure to exhibit and preserve the disputed pieces. Instead of complying with demands of across-the-board restitution, they propose the parties concerned should seek dialogue with the “countries of origin” and develop joint solutions. 61

4 Contaminated Science Suppose we want to accomplish dialogue in this matter. In that case, our approach must be open to multi-faceted perspectives and controversial views, transcend disciplinary boundaries, and systematically include the formerly colonized countries and groups’ outlooks and possibilities for action. During the already mentioned critical revision of the profession and the foundations of historical science, we should clarify whether and to what extent our discipline-specific methods are colonially contaminated. The preceding remarks should read pointedly enough. In short, questions about the restitution of artifacts, human remains, or other remains from colonial contexts point back to European colonialism in the early modern period. We can’t find answers without addressing global interconnections, the relations between people of different world regions, colonial power relations, economic interests, and geopolitical claims. Yet, it is precisely these factors that usually get lost from view. One easily overlooks that “to loot art” has a colonial tradition that did not begin with the acquisition of German colonies—called “protectorates” to downplay the significance—or even with National Socialism. German explorers, such as Alexander von Humboldt, took advantage of the imperial infrastructure provisioned by the other great powers. Far into the German hinterland, traders, financiers, merchants, and, finally, consumers profited from colonialism and were actively involved in building and maintaining colonial structures. Artifacts dispatched from the colonies to the metropolises allow deep insights into globalization processes dating back as far as the early modern period: A range of institutions such as the Royal Navy, Hamburg shipping

61 See Hartmut Dorgerloh’s contribution to this volume. See additionally Achille Mbembe: Restitution ist nicht genug. In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Oct. 10, 2018, https://www.faz.net/aktuell/feuilleton/debatten/was-passiert-mit-derraubkunst-der-kolonialzeit-15827815.html (retrieved Dec. 13, 2020) and David Simo’s contribution to this volume.

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companies, and the Berlin Museum für Völkerkunde, as well as individual players like Alexander von Humboldt or Felix von Luschan, acted on partial, local, societal, or national interests when operating within colonial structures while simultaneously keeping them alive. Humboldt and Luschan were not unaware of the dubiousness of their actions. They would hardly have acted similarly for research or collecting purposes in Berlin. However, they did lack a sense of injustice as soon as they worked in other regional contexts. One of them drowned occurring brief flashes of unease in a research zeal that even today has the academic peers express their admiration; the other one externalized such expectations as the irrelevant perceptions of third parties. Eventually, the research on one recipient of the human remains excavated by Humboldt gives a striking example that reflecting upon the genesis of scientific practices is imperative. The Göttingen anatomist Johann Friedrich Blumenbach’s studies show that different human races do not exist. To prove this, he put skulls originating from all over the world to the test by comparative examination. The comparative method began its triumphant advance in almost all scientific disciplines at the end of the 18th century. Why is that? Comparing is a process that gives off the impression of a neutral approach at first glance. However, a second glance reveals that comparisons can corroborate, perpetuate, and “naturalize” hierarchies, especially when put into practice in colonial contexts. Comparisons help to legitimize classifications. When one contrasts the “barbarians” with “civilized” people, the duty to conquer—envisioned as a “white man’s burden”—might make sense. The emergence of ethnology and historiography in the 19th century testifies convincingly to the efficacy of comparisonbased hierarchizations in global and local contexts—resulting in a division of labor between the professionalizing disciplines. Historiography turned to those societies and cultures that, following the contemporary diagnosis of the profession, had contributed significantly to historical events of global relevance; 62 hence ethnology focused on cultures characterized by their supposed lack of historicity. Eric Wolf ’s work impressively portrays this division of labor. 63 He invokes tongue-in-cheek a remark by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels in the title of his book. Marx and Engels described numerous nations of Eastern Europe as “unhistorical” due to their lack of revolutionary commitment. 62 The remark refers to the founding phase of academic disciplines in Europe. For a global perspective, see Dominik Sachsenmaier: Global Perspectives on Global History. Theories and Approaches in a Connected World. Cambridge 2011. 63 See Eric Wolf: Europe and the People without History. Berkeley 1982.

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The book title People without History has become a catchphrase and draws attention to the fact that attributing or depreciating historicity allows for reinforcing hierarchies both within Europe and between world regions. Setting Western European and soon also North American regions and their stages of civilizational development as benchmarks, such comparisons were used to justify the colonial division of Africa at the Congo Conference in Berlin in 1884/85. At the same time, they set the global political framework for dispossessing the colonies of artifacts, supposedly without any injustice involved. The interpretive pattern “simultaneity of the nonsimultaneous,” so often used by a number of outstanding sociologists and historians, has only recently been called into question. However, its nexus of (spatiotemporal) comparative practices and the European discourse of superiority had placed entire regions of the world into the “waiting room of history” right from the start. 64 Europe’s present became the (not yet achieved) future of supposedly backward societies, and the Europeans brought the backward peoples’ cultural treasures home to illustrate their spatiotemporal concept of history. European narratives on progress and the mission to civilize rest on evaluations justified by comparisons. Comparing—in science as well—is, therefore, no innocent activity. 65 The repercussions of these comparative evaluative practices—mind you, the term “developing countries”—severely impact today’s debate about restitution because, historically, the granting and denying of historicity and artistry were closely linked. A discussion of whether artifact appropriations in colonial contexts were coerced or legitimate must do justice to the complexity of the issue, which has only been touched upon here. And such an analysis must carefully examine and question the underlying scientific, legal, historical, and ethical discourse and comparison practices in their contexts of emergence. Our reference to problematic roots of scientific comparison is, therefore, not accidental. For one thing, the historical comparison is considered the supreme discipline of social history. For another thing, the already alluded expansion of research on historical culture toward transnational and global history will only come off with comparative procedures. Nevertheless, we caution that the misuse of comparisons to validate historical and social hierarchies cannot be ruled out. Future research on historical culture must face the implied historical-theoretical and methodological challenges. 64 See Achim Landwehr: Von der “Gleichzeitigkeit des Ungleichzeitigen“. In: Historische Zeitschrift 295 (2012), pp. 1–34; Chakrabarty (note 54). 65 See Rajagopalan Radhakrishnan: Why Compare? In: New Literary History 40 (2009), pp. 453–471.

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5 Preliminary Conclusions Indeed, the restitution debate is an example of “in-the-field articulation of historical consciousness” and, thus, historical culture. One of the aims of this volume is to document the debate’s historical-cultural dimensions based on characteristic statements. However, we do not want to stop at this. The transnational and intercultural dimensions and the analysis of their respective national shaping within and outside Europe offer considerable potential for innovation in historical culture research, which has, for the most part, not yet advanced to a transnational perspective. If one broadens the view in this way, the questions and tasks change. Then it is no longer only a question of representing the actual state of historical culture within a nation. First, the question posed in the book title should get addressed: to what extent does the debate about restitution illustrate that the historical culture of a society necessarily develops out of interconnected relationships—that is, not solely bound to the history of an isolated society? Second, it is vital to explore how historical culture assumes shape on a global scale. What explosive power—and what potential holds the restitution debate? Suppose groups have an intertwined history and feature different perspectives on that history, like in the competing claims of African governments and the heirs of formerly enslaved Africans for the restitution of Benin bronzes, which we will briefly address in the following section. In that case, what is the result? A divided or a joint historical culture? What changes would happen in a transnational historical culture when restitution tasks are put into practice? Still, returns have occurred only on a small scale, so we need more empirical evidence to answer this question. On the other hand, the question recalls a normative content enclosed in the concept of historical culture that has mostly taken a backseat to its analytical potential. According to Rüsen, there should be a balance between scientific findings, aesthetic manifestations, and political claims to power when it comes to historical culture. As a rule, there can be no talk of such an equilibrium because the protagonists of science, art, and politics strive to dominate the historical culture and to put the other protagonists in their place. 66 In any case, the restitution debate and its massive political impact provide examples for these considerations. 66 See Jörn Rüsen: Geschichtskultur. In: Klaus Bergmann et al. (Eds.): Handbuch der Geschichtsdidaktik. Seelze-Velber 5th ed. 1997, pp. 38–41, esp. p. 40: The “following normative principle for its regulation can be derived: Any historical memory can best fulfill its cultural orientation function if it allows its three dimensions to coexist in relative autonomy while simultaneously relating them to each other in a mutually critical way.”

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So, as much as the everyday practice may fall short regarding the balance of historical-cultural dimensions, it is worthwhile to underscore the theoretical concept’s potential before the usual mechanisms take hold: seclusion in the ivory tower, hiding behind aestheticism, and truthabstinent exercise of power. In this light, it brings advantages besides the apparent disadvantages that the restitution debate is unfinished and has, until recently, lacked practical results. If one of the objectives is to foster historical culture via restitution processes, the discussion’s theoretical foundation and perspective scope deserve considerable expansion. Proposals for solutions outlined abstractly in this way could, in the next step, also help to evaluate the practice of restitution—or any other instrument of reparation.

6 The Moving State of Affairs: A 2022–23 Supplement The narrative that underlies this book is still in the making and has an open end. However, a lot has happened since the volume’s initial release in German. First, history, memory, and heritage have become increasingly disputed in Germany. These processes have altered the political framework and changed public perceptions of restitution. Secondly, and more importantly, practical steps have been taken that will probably gain even more momentum in the future. France has followed President Macron’s words with a symbolic action. On Christmas Eve 2020, the French National Assembly decided to return 26 objects that had previously been part of the Musée du Quai Branly—Jacques Chirac holdings and one object from the Army Museum to the African republics of Benin and Senegal within a year. 67 In November 2021, Benin’s President Talon arrived in Paris to receive 26 artifacts: Statues and utensils of kings of the former West African Kingdom of Dahomey, doors of their palace (one of which is printed on the cover of this book), thrones, medals, war booty, and portable altars 68—items that

67 LOI no 2020-1673 du 24 décembre 2020 relative à la restitution de biens culturels à la République du Bénin et à la République du Sénégal, Dec. 24, 2020, https://www. legifrance.gouv.fr/eli/loi/2020/12/24/2020-1673/jo/texte (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023). 68 See the inventory list attached to the law mentioned above.—Senegal retrieved the saber of the prophetic empire’s founder, ʿUmar ibn Saʿ¯ıd al-Fu¯ t¯ı Tall, who was assassinated in 1864. The saber was taken by the French general Louis Archinard in 1890 after his conquest of Ségou, the Bambara capital conquered by ʿUmar Tall three decades earlier. Archinard later bequeathed the saber to the French army museum. See Katrin Gänsler: Frankreich gibt etwas zurück. Benins Präsident Patrice Talon darf 26 historische Objekte aus Paris nach Hause zurückbringen. Französische

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French colonial soldiers and their African helpers had taken as war booty during their conquest of Dahomey (1892–1894). Germany has also begun to restitute art treasures to African countries. The focus of attention was and still is the restitution of Benin bronzes since the Nigerian ambassador had once again urged the German government to act and the preceding example of France had built up additional pressure. In April 2021, the then Federal Commissioner for Cultural Affairs, Monika Grütters, declared the German government’s willingness, in principle, to undertake “substantial returns” of Benin objects in the coming year. 69 In France, the restitution law withdrew the individual pieces from the statutory inalienability of national cultural property on a case-by-case basis. On the other hand, the Federal Republic of Germany made a general decision on all of the approximately 1,100 Benin objects in public possession in Germany, bar none, and decided to transfer the ownership back to Nigeria. On July 1, 2022, Germany and Nigeria signed an agreement to this effect. In the following months, corresponding agreements were reached at the federal-state level, for example, with the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation, which is in charge of the exhibits at the Humboldt Forum, and with the responsible political authorities and museums in Hamburg, Cologne, and Stuttgart. Approximately one-third of the objects will remain in the custody of the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation on loan from Nigeria for an initial period of ten years. 70 Similar arrangements apply to the other museums. Shortly before Christmas 2022, German Foreign Minister Annalena Baerbock and Claudia Roth, Monika Grütters’ successor as Federal Commissioner for Culture, traveled to Abuja to hand over the first batch of 20 Benin objects personally. In her speech, Baerbock raised the hypothetical question of what it would mean for Germany if it had to give up its “cultural heritage.” For Nigeria, she said, this loss was a reality. In the following, she pointed out: “Today, we are here to return the Benin bronzes to those to whom they belong: the Nigerian people. We are here to right a wrong. Officials from my country Truppen raubten sie im Jahr 1892. In: taz, Nov. 9, 2022, https://taz.de/KolonialeRaubkunst/!5810737/#: :text=Offiziell%20stimmte%20die%20franz%C3%B6sische% 20Nationalversammlung,Artefakte%20aber%20weiterhin%20in%20Frankreich (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023). 69 Press release of the Federal Government, Apr. 30, 2021, https://www . bundesregierung.de/breg-de/service/archiv/erklaerung-zum-umgang-mit-beninbronzen - gruetters - wichtige - wegmarke - fuer - verstaendigung - und - versoehnung 1902114 (retrieved Jan. 7, 2023). 70 See Press Release of the Prussian Heritage Foundation, Aug. 25, 2022, https:// www.preussischer-kulturbesitz.de/pressemitteilung/artikel/2022/08/25/rueckgabeder-berliner-benin-bronzen.html (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023).

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once bought the bronzes even though they knew they had been looted and stolen. After that, we ignored Nigeria’s request for their return for a very long time. It was wrong to take them. But it was also wrong to keep them. This is a story of European colonialism. It is a history in which our country played a dark role and caused enormous suffering in different parts of Africa. The return of the bronzes today is a crucial step towards how we should deal with this chapter: openly, sincerely, with a willingness to critically evaluate our actions.” 71

Although French restitution policy is based mainly on her expertise, art historian Bénédicte Savoy emphasized the symbolic nature of the returns effected in line with her government’s approach to the subject. She said the numerical ratio alone points to this when France returns 26 Dahomean artifacts while the Museum du Quai Branly houses approximately 45,000 further objects taken from Africa under French colonial rule for the time being. No one had to fear that returns would result in empty museums. 72 Given the differing German approach, the situation in the Federal Republic may be different. In Germany, the government opted for rescinding the ownership of an entire class of objects, subsumed under the umbrella term “Benin Bronzes,” and returning them to the country claiming legal succession, which alone is entitled to decide now whether to leave part of its reacquired property in foreign custody or to repatriate everything. This is a rare and intriguing case of retributive justice; hence the African continent had previously faced the reverse situation: for legal reasons, African countries could not gain control over the objects housed in European museums. Germany and Nigeria have declared their will to find new ways regarding cultural cooperation. In the event the partners succeed, the restitution of the Benin Bronzes would have a considerable, positive influence on the formation of a transnational historical culture. However, whether the desired outcome comes about does not depend solely, or even for the most part, on government consultations but on the future emergence of a broad discourse on each country’s own and possibly joint cultural heritage, both in Germany and Nigeria. On the restitution announcement by Minister of State Grütters, the Nigerian art historian Oluwatoyin Sogbesan pointed to a deficit in her 71 Speech by Foreign Minister Annalena Baerbock at the occasion of the Benin bronzes’ handover on Dec. 20, 2022, https://www.auswaertiges-amt.de/de/newsroom/baer bock-uebergabe-benin-bronzen-an-nigeria/2570312 (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023). There is no authorized translation of this speech yet. 72 See Linda Schildbach: “Es wird ein Vorher und ein Nachher geben”. Frankreich gibt Raubkunst zurück. In: tagesschau, Oct. 27, 2021, https://www.tagesschau.de/ausland/ europa/frankreich-kulturgueter-benin-101.html (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023).

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own country. The restitution discourse, she said, “has yet to unfold its potential with regard to inclusion in Nigerian institutions—only privileged elites seem to be involved.” Sogbesan argued urgently in favor of “inclusive participation” in Nigeria and “collaborative partnership” with the German side to ensure that the “Benin Bronzes continue to tell a distinctive yet global story.” The repatriated Benin-related collections will “strengthen individual and community identity. Restitution is about taking back control and retelling Benin’s history from an Edo perspective.” 73 Sogbesan’s observation describes a global problem to which individual countries and cultures have each formulated specific responses and must continue to do so in the future. The issue pertains to the former colonial powers as well as to the states that emerged from former colonies. The example of Dahomey / Benin shows that the repatriation of highly symbolic objects can lead up to a public festival and encourage an intensified debate about cultural heritage. Specifically, the capacity and historical perspective of museums which will house restituted objects in the future will be at stake. Neither Benin nor Nigeria features the corresponding infrastructure to date. As for capacity, Sogbesan maliciously pointed out that Germany made it to “the forefront of the restitution race” by returning its Benin Bronzes—a race that further museums like New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art have joined now. 74 It makes a considerable difference whether a museum holds circa 30 or 700 pieces. In the first case, e.g., there is no need for a depot; in the second, there is. In the first case, the exhibits inevitably acquire an auratic quality; in the second, the museum’s exhibition design determines the story told—and its subjects, its addressees, and the repercussions of the created narrative on the objects on display. Benin and Nigeria intend to proceed differently, as far as we know. In Benin, the objects returned by France were first exhibited in the presidential palace in Cotonou, then in the Historical Museum in Ouidah, 73 Interview by Stefanie Müller, June 2021. In: Zeitgeister. Internationale Perspektiven aus Kultur und Gesellschaft (Goethe-Institut), https://www.goethe.de/prj/zei/de/pos/ 22267390.html (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023). 74 In June 2021, the Metropolitan Museum, housing 160 Benin Bronzes, declared its willingness to return two bronzes dating from the 16th century. See Met Museum Announces Return of Two Benin Bronzes to Nigeria. In: New York Times, June 9, 2021, https://www.nytimes.com/2021/06/09/arts/design/met-museum-beninbronzes-nigeria.html (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023). The museum combined the declaration of its willingness to restitute with sharp criticism regarding the disappearance and subsequent marketing of Benin objects that had been restituted to Nigeria decades ago—though such “inexplicable” losses have been commonplace in Europe as well. See note 10 of this introduction.

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a city on the coast of the Republic of Benin. Prospectively a still-to-be-built museum will exhibit the artifacts in Abomey, once the capital of the former Kingdom of Dahomey. In Ouidah, the museum curator, Calixte Biah, emphasized the objects’ immense importance “for several generations of the people of Benin and Africa. [. . . ] They are proof of the artistry in the Abomey monarchy [sic] and document the history of this kingdom.” 75 De facto, the Ouidah exhibition hall is a royal and war museum utilizing its identity-building power for the restoration of a tradition forcibly ended by the Europeans. Nigeria is planning to build the Edo Museum of West African Art. The plan is for joint German-Nigerian financing of the new museum, which “should become an attraction in Benin City.” 76 The German restitution strategy seems to aim at returning property rights en bloc to keep influence on the further use of the restituted objects through loans and binational projects, at least for some time. The strategy probably owes its general orientation to the fact that these artifacts have also become a part of German history by being an integral part of German cultural institutions for more than a hundred years. Addressing this aspect would be a way to illustrate the complexity of colonial art theft and highlight the history of its impact, which the new-founded tradition would otherwise superimpose. In this respect, Oluwatoyin Sogbesan predicted: “The possibilities are unlimited as opportunities open up for inclusive collaborations that respect and value all cultures. Partnerships at various levels should follow and aid in providing effective professional training and capacity building. Indigenous voices get heard and respected as trustees, while curators become facilitators.” 77

One can picture such a collaboration as the kind of “shared heritage” praxis envisioned by the President of the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation, Hermann Parzinger, and the General Director of the Humboldt Forum, Hartmut Dorgerloh. 78 By opting for this praxis, however, the formerly colonized people face the challenge of holding their own vis-à-vis the culture of the former

75 Quoted from Schildbach (note 72). 76 Bernd Dörries: “Es war falsch, diese Bronzen zu stehlen.” Außenministerin Annalena Baerbock bringt nach Jahrzehnten der Verhandlungen 20 Benin-Bronzen zurück nach Nigeria. Deutschland arbeite damit “eines unserer dunkelsten Kapitel” auf. In: Süddeutsche Zeitung, Dec. 20, 2022, https://www.sueddeutsche.de/kultur/beninbronzen-nigeria-annalena-baerbock-falsch-1.5719070 (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023). 77 Interview (note 73). 78 See the contributions of Parzinger und Dorgerloh to this volume.

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colonial powers. It is no coincidence that the currently intended construction of a community that builds on reclaimed and regained traditions is reminiscent of European nationalism. As a matter of course, every form of historical thinking that goes beyond the merely antiquarian documentation of past facts fosters the formation or preservation of tradition and aids identity-establishing processes. The fine line between the culturally enriching revivification of traditions and tradition-induced exclusion calls for reflectiveness on all sides and the willingness to scrutinize any form of museum history presentation regarding its adaptableness for other cultures and consistency with the fundamental principle of universalization. In this context, there is also a need for a joint reappraisal of a dark chapter: the European slave trade and the participation of African elites in it. For example, Ouidah in Benin, the city that currently exhibits the artifacts returned by France, was a center of the inner- and the extraAfrican slave trade, a profitable line of commerce that brought the Kings of Dahomey power and influence. So, what is it specifically that “several generations of the people of Benin and Africa” look for in the legacy of these kings? And what is it they might find? 79 The New York-based Restitution Study Group sued the Smithsonian Institution in October 2022 to prevent the Washington institution from effecting the announced return of Benin Bronzes to Nigeria. The group argued that these bronzes, made between the 16th and 19th centuries, were cast from copper bracelets that circulated as currency in the transatlantic slave trade. Therefore, not African successor states of kingdoms active in the slave trade but the (American) descendants of formerly enslaved Africans ought to be the beneficiaries of restitution. For this reason, the Restitution Study Group also sharply criticized the German restitution decision regarding Benin Bronzes. 80 It is one of those cases of competing conclusions drawn from suffering in the past that may lead to shared or universal historical culture. 81 For the time being, the Restitution Study Group’s intervention has political consequences: Interested circles seized the occasion and used the dissenting voice as confirmation for their intention to reject the critical reappraisal of

79 See Schildbach (note 72). 80 See Restitution Study Group: Press release. Smithsonian hit with lawsuit to stop Benin bronze transfer to Nigeria. Human Rights Advocates Oppose Transfer of 16th –19th Century Slave Trade Bronzes, Oct. 7, 2021, https://rsgincorp.org/2022/ 10/08/smithsonian-hit-with-lawsuit-on-benin-bronzes-to-be-transferred-to-nigeria/ (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023). 81 See section 5 of this introduction.

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colonial history generally. 82 In contrast, the Federal Republic of Germany adhered to the restitution of the Benin objects. Jürgen Zimmerer lamented the tragedy that the circumstances allow for “pitting the victims of the slave trade against the victims of colonialism.” He deemed it crucial to keep the causative European agency concerning colonialism and the transatlantic slave trade firmly in mind and demanded to refrain from being satisfied with the restitution of art objects. 83 Indeed, the dispute over the rights to claim restitution illustrates that colonial-era artifacts represent much more than a past reality that morally charged attempts to make amends could consign to oblivion. If joint efforts are to stand a chance in coming to terms with the colonial legacy, it must become a living part of transnational historical consciousness. Eventually, the increased circulation of restituted art presents a challenge to museums. They would be well advised to embrace the inherent opportunity. The return of art treasures from colonial times housed in European museums to nation-states in the Global South has begun; yet, the process is slow, and so far, the results are sparse. For this reason, we aim to contribute with this volume not exclusively to the historiography regarding a virtually completed sequence of events but to an open-minded discussion between researchers from various disciplines, museum experts, and museum representatives.

82 See, e.g., the British group indicating its political program in the telling name “History Reclaimed.” 83 Jürgen Zimmerer interviewed by Nicole Dittmer: Sklaven-Nachfahren beanspruchen die Benin-Bronzen. In: Deutschlandfunk Kultur, Jan. 5, 2023, https://www. deutschlandfunkkultur.de/benin-bronzen-sklavenhandel-kritik-restitution-studygroup-100.html (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023). Colonialism, Zimmerer said in another interview, was more than the theft of objects, an encroachment that could be “healed” by their return. Restitution, therefore, did “not [initiate] the great breakthrough in coming to terms with the colonial legacy.” A promising approach must instead address structural violence, exploitation, and, for one, “the genocide of the Herero and Nama in Namibia.” Idem in: tagesschau, Dezember 18, 2022, https://www.tagesschau.de/ inland/baerbock-rueckgabe-benin-bronzen-101.html (retrieved Jan. 7, 2023).

I. Positions

Erhard Schüttpelz

The Brief Moment of the Restitution Debate and its Long Duration A Twin Text*

Remarks on Felwine Sarr / Bénédicte Savoy: The Restitution of African Cultural Heritage. Toward a New Relational Ethics, November 2018, http://restitutionreport2018.com, set here flush left 1; afterthoughts on the same report 2, set here flush right and in box. 3

* The compilation comprises two texts the author had drafted ab initio in English and published separately. 1 See Erhard Schüttpelz: Everything Must Go: Looting the Museum as Compensation for Looting the World, Nov. 2018, https://blog.uni-koeln.de/gsschumboldt/ everything-must-go-looting-the-museum-as-compensation-for-lootingthe-world/ (retrieved Dec. 16, 2022). 2 Idem: The Crisis of Anthropological Museums from the Perspective of an Anthropology of Museums, and Some Remarks on the Agency of Restitution Conceived as a Restitution of Agency, July 2019, https://boasblogs.org/de/dcntr/the-cri sis-of-anthropological-museums-from-the-perspective-of-an-anthropology-of-muse ums-and-some-remarks-on-the-agency-of-restitution-conceived-as-a-restitutionof-agency/ (retrieved Dec. 16, 2022). 3 Note on Febr. 2020: The text set flush left was written within 24 hours of the publication of the Sarr Savoy Report on Nov. 26, 2018, and posted online shortly after that. The text set flush right attempted to develop an alternative perspective regarding the very Longue Durée or even “Deep History” in the run-up to a Cologne conference on the restitution debate. It was written 18 months later and also posted online at Boasblogs (Cologne and Siegen). The first text was widely noticed and, to all appearances, also read by Sarr and Savoy. Since both are documents of contemporary history, there was little point in fundamentally revising both texts for this publication. The intention now is to create a twin text in which the two components overlap, interact, and shine a light on changes in meaning depending on the news situation and perspective of the day in the eye of the beholder (including its author). What was supposed to be an objection when first published was already outdated a short time later. Firstly, because Sarr and Savoy continually and, in some cases, drastically modified their position compared to the “Report,” and secondly, because the discussion developed in a direction different from the agenda set by the “Report.” At least in Germany, the restitution debate led to an astonishing boom in ethnological museums and, above all, an increase in staffing levels in institutions for provenance research. The consequences of this boom are not yet foreseeable; it is even unclear how long it will last. For this very reason,

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Marx was right, but we can delve deeper into his famous dictum from “The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte”. History does not repeat itself by alternating from tragedy to farce. Farce is the covering of tragedy, i.e., its being and its mask. The development of Berlin’s Humboldt Forum is a tragedy that hasn’t only now taken on the form of farce, but that was prepared by many little tragicomic travesties, and will be accompanied by several more. But even this capital tragicomedy pales in comparison with the art historical Chernobyl Accident of the decade, the “Report” written by Felwine Sarr and Bénédicte Savoy for Mr. Macron. In the following lines, I try to devote myself to the tragedies involved in this “report” to make the travesty more recognizable. There are many people in the fields of museum curating, anthropology and post-colonial exhibitions that could write a better commentary than I am able to assemble in the first rush of anger and perplexion. The only reason I have started writing this text is, that I have witnessed the ambivalence of others like myself. After all, is this not a historical landmark (or landslide) report? Are our sympathies not with all those who were robbed, humiliated, and disinherited under colonial rule? And indeed, from what I can tell, museum people are behaving cautiously and act like diplomats, after all, they are depending on political decisions too; anthropologists do sympathize with the radicalism and the “payback” promised after centuries of power abuse, and they think of the possibilities of the dispossessed being compensated for material and immaterial losses. Nobody wants to be called a colonialist; and some older anthropologists have admitted defeat in the face of a new epoch that flies in the face of everything they stood for and the scholarly authority they could take for granted. And I feel like that too, sympathizing with the radicalism and the “payback” offered after centuries and in the presence of power abuse. But that should be no reason to accept a proposal that is full of inconsistencies and injustice, uninformed and actively distorting history. 4 the first impact of the “Report” is a historical event worth documenting. Can this collage—in a not-too-distant future—assist an anamnesis of a past situation that will hardly seem comprehensible anymore? Such hopes are probably illusionary because, after the enforcement of new grounds of justification, the arguments against their enforcement are rarely heard and appear more or less incomprehensible or opaque precisely in their polemical and pointed character. A future anamnesis, therefore, finds in the article presented here less help than an obstacle. And only as an obstacle it becomes an aid in the attempt to formulate the self-evident facts of a future past: less so in order to find out why the members of past times were wrong, for every present knows that best for itself and by itself, but rather in order to specify what they—that is, the author of the text and the opponents and witnesses quoted by him—considered wrong or right, true or false, and for what reasons. 4 See Nicholas Thomas in: Tristam Hunt, Hartmut Dorgerloh, Nicholas Thomas: Restitution Report: Museum Directors Respond. In: The Art Newspaper, Nov. 27,

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Hypotheses: 1.

2. 3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

This report is not about looted art, it is about looting museums in the name of historical justice. That is, in the name of a concept of historical justice. The museology in this report is pseudo-museology. The history written in the report is pseudo-history. The legal principles of this report are against traditional principles of law. And they don’t try to acknowledge the legal conceptions of source communities either. The report is not about the restitution of property, but about getting rid of inalienable property, and especially about getting rid of the concept of inalienability. Making inalienable property into profane property means making it commercial property: the report creates a new art market (and a potentially violent art market too). If you give up the custody of scientific scholarship for political reasons, the artefacts will be political artefacts, and they will be disinherited many more times. If you give up the heritage of anthropological museums, you are not turning artefacts into art: you are preparing for historical amnesia, and for anthropological amnesia. If you put this report into practice, tragedy will be performed as travesty, and travesties will be parts of tragedies.

1. This report is not about looted art, it is about looting museums in the name of a concept of historical justice. Pursuing this principle of historical justice will be a case of “summum ius summa iniuria.” Of course, looting the museum after looting the world seems like the perfect equalizer, or the perfect act of balancing. It may even seem to be the perfect gift, or the pure gift. Give it all back, even if there is no way back! But there is no pure gift. Looting the museum after looting the world means just another act of injustice. It will be a case of looting the world too. Imagine this report is not about Africa, it could be about the territories of the Pacific. All the Pacific artefacts have at least a tag saying from which island they are. Just send them all back to their respective islands, five thousand of them. By mail, all these artefacts arrive and are disseminated and are meant to stay on its specific island of origin, isolated in the strictest sense of the term. What has been won? We would have to 2018, https://www.theartnewspaper.com/comment/restitution-report-museums-di rectors-respond (retrieved Nov. 27, 2018).

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find out. But we know what we have lost. Nobody in his whole lifetime will ever be able to visit 5.000 islands to compare the artefacts materially and archeologically. Nobody will have the financial means and the time to pursue this task; and nobody from Polynesia, Melanesia, Micronesia either. There may be traditions regained, but there is a cultural heritage lost, a scientific heritage lost, and even a political heritage lost. It is called material culture for a reason. Looking at replicas is not working with objects. And why do you think Africa is different in this respect? Take 500 museums instead of 5.000 islands; or take the frustration that sets in once you try to keep track of where the artefacts are. Imagine the frustration of an African scholar in 20 years. There are archives, there are catalogues, there are specialists with expertise to talk to, now. Once we disseminate the artefacts, these will be the catalogues to rely on in the future. And only auction catalogues will tell us in the future after “restitution” where they will have been in between. This is not about “corruption” no, I am not writing about that. I am writing about “property” (see below), and especially B. Savoy’s concept of “property.” Apart from royal societies and their art, e.g., Benin Bronze sculptures, most African ritual objects were not preserved for eternity or created for permanent preservation but were made for their cyclical reproduction and renewal in new artefacts. Once objects fell out of ritual use or were damaged by use, they were destroyed or left to decay. After all, these objects were parts of performative arts, of music, dance, ritual, and of invisible powers manifesting themselves first in movement, and often deriving their existence from performances, or from “African Art in Motion.” In the ethnographic sources from ca. 1850 to 1950, we do not seem to find a narrative or a theorem or a message that discarded African objects had a “soul” that is lost by their being collected and exported. This narrative or rather: “myth” is made in the museum itself and about the museum, and it was made by Europeans, especially in the film “Les statues meurent aussi” by Chris Marker and Alain Resnais. The film-makers were instructed for their film by the “Présence Africaine” group to use Placide Tempels’ “La philosophie bantoue” as their blueprint. 5 The Présence Africaine’s English edition of Tempels’ book contains seven photos of African Art in European collections; and it has a chapter on the “Restitution” of Bantu agency in cases of

5 Pierre-Philippe Fraiture: Statues also Die. In: Journal of French and Francophone Philosophy 24 (2016) No. 2, pp. 45–67; Placide Tempels: Bantu Philosophy. Paris 1959.

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damage (not, of course, of art works, but about the redressing of injustice and evil magic by “Restitution”). Even “property” is subjected to Tempels’ philosophy and ontology of “forces”: “Another law says that the living being exercises a vital influence on everything that is subordinated to him and on all that belongs to him. The fact that a thing has belonged to anyone, that it has been in strict relationship with a person, leads the Bantu to conclude that this thing shares the vital influence of its owner. It is what ethnologists like to call ‘contagious magic, sympathetic magic’; but it is neither contact nor ‘sympathy’ that are the active elements but solely the vital force of the owner, which acts, as one knows, because it persists in the being of the thing possessed or used by him.” 6 It is from these and other sentences by Tempels that Resnais and Marker developed their motif of a “loss of vital force” or “soul loss” in African objects in European museums: The “vital force” persists in the object and its “alienated” status demands restitution: “Even when the restitution takes the form of a transfer of natural goods, it is considered as part of the re-establishment of life; or rather, as being a re-establishment of life.” 7 I have not been able to identify any historical source documenting these ideas for African Art before “Les statues.” Thus, French filmmakers without anthropological training reinterpreted a Belgian missionary’s essay on African “philosophy” or “ontology” in a critical film about museums. It’s important to note that they referred to a European missionary’s text re-interpreting Victorian anthropological theories of “Mana” and “magic” Tempelsʻ text was and remains a catechetical text preparing for Christian conversion; he interprets the “psychic unity” in Bantu ontology that enables the pagans to become good Christians. We know how influential Tempels’ text was to become: for the development of African and Afroreferential philosophy, for an autonomous religious African movement called “Jamaa” for the musicians of U.S. Free Jazz, for Janheinz Jahn and his literary vision of a Black Atlantic: and finally, it seeems for the crisis of anthropological museums and for current narratives and enactments of “restitution.” Statues want to return home because they lost their souls by being robbed, bought, and sold. This seems to be a most successful, but specifically European emplotment, after all, it is based on a metaphysics of the soul as Self. And this idea is very popular amongst journalists and politicians, and

6 Tempels (Note 5), p. 54. 7 Ibid., p. 94.

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much less so amongst anthropologists and historians of Africa. The blueprint of “Les statues meurent aussi” provides a powerful narrative because it links loss and restitution, the European agency of alienating the object and the non-alienable agency within the object. The agency of restitution will lie in a restitution of agency. This narrative nucleus has a long Mediterranean and Near Eastern genealogy ultimately linked with laments of loss and exile: e.g., “city laments” demanding the re-erection of the temples of city goddesses of cities destroyed in Mesopotamian wars. Concerning Africa, this genealogy remains apocryphal, at least as far as ritual objects are concerned, and unless, of course, we accept “Les statues meurent aussi” as an authentic African source of a theory about what a museum does to African objects. 2. The museology in this report is pseudo-museology. The history written in the report is pseudo-history. This report was written by amateurs and is full of historical blunders. After all, Mme Savoy has never worked on African art history. But she worked on Napoleon and learnt a lot from him. Just try and make sense of the occurrence of “anthropology” in this report. “Anthropology” is mentioned twice: as a child of colonial violence, and as a handmaiden of colonial violence in 1903. And then, there are two mottos: one by Michel Leiris accusing anthropology of looting the temples; and one quote about Africa from the “Manifeste culturel panafricain.” Which means, 100 years of anthropology and of anthropolocial scholarship at museums are reduced to colonial violence as the “original sin.” The “original sin” characterizes anthropology once and for all. There is no assessment of anthropological museum work, there is no history of anthropological museum work, there is not even an acknowledgment that work was accomplished or, for that matter, invested in anthropological museums. They are ignoring the work that was most crucial for their own enterprise and treat it as non-existent. This is not history, but a philosophy of history; this is no philosophy of history (because it would need more evidence), but the salvation from history: an argument for ahistorical redemption. In the report, 100 years are but one wink of an eye. Nothing has happened after decolonization: “To speak of restitution in the year 2018 is to thus to simultaneously reopen the old colonial machine as well as the file containing the erased memories of both the Europeans and the Africans [. . . ].” 8

8 Ibid., p. 15.

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The history of restitution seems to be the story of Rip van Winkle. But Rip van Winkle at least knew he had slept when he saw how much the others had aged, and that the king had gone. With Sarr / Savoy, everyone else was asleep. The language of historical redemption in this report is speaking of “memory,” of “re-activating a concealed memory.” And speaking of “memory,” fitting for ideas of universalism, this is about universal “human experience,” or, interchangeable, “human brilliance,” “humanity’s creativity,” “a relation that needs to be reinvented,” and many more qualifications. Memory in this report, is historical amnesia. Memory, it seems, will start from scratch. It will be “human experience, brilliance, creativity,” not historical experience, brilliance, creativity, because that would make it part of an entangled history. But what about the non-erased memories and files in the museums? What about 100 years of work on and against colonialism in anthropology? And what about the files that documented the old colonial machine? What about acknowledging work being done for the historical memory of mankind? Could the authors please re-quote their second motto along these lines: “The conservation of culture has helped to save the various African peoples from the attempts at erasing the history and soul of Africa’s peoples [. . . ] and if it [culture] binds humans together, it also impels memory. This is the reason anthropology has gone to such great lengths and taken such care in recovering the world’s culture heritage, in defending its personality and tending to the flourishing of new branches of its culture.” 9

So, what is a museum? Before the museum, there are the collections of tribute and items of exotical crafts. Mary W. Helms has summarized their constitution in these succinct sentences: “Foreign tribute-payers or traders or agents of the polity itself [. . . ] may bring exquisitely crafted goods or highly valued and symbolic natural ‘riches’ of the earth. Official symbols and regalia of rank or of office may include foreign ornaments, accoutrements, or robes, and great effort may be expended on exotic collections of holy relics, foreign wonders, strange plants, curious animals, or even human beings, such as foreign slaves and entertainers, which graced temple precincts and royal courts, or were housed in royal zoos and aristocratic gardens in (for example) ancient Egypt, pre-Columbian America[,] . . . the ancient Near East, and the

9 Ibid., motto before the table of contents (modified). I (E. Sch.) have replaced the word “Africa” with the word “anthropology.” Without anthropology and anthropological museums and collections, ca. 90 percent of African art would be lost.

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capital of imperial China. [. . . ] Far from being curiosities (though some collections may have been, at least to some extent [. . . ]) these animate and inanimate exotics from the ends of the earth or from its most sacred centers were repositories of power and symbols of the distant, potent regions known to, and ‘controlled’ by, the lords of the realm.” 10

Mary W. Helms compared the constitution of “collections of tribute” with shamanistic bundles of knowledge and power: “In a sense, far-fetched though at first it may seem, royal collections of the strange and the sacred . . . can be considered as vastly elaborated expressions of the power-filled medicine pouches of tribal shamans, filled with potent bits and pieces of unusual minerals, wood, flora and fauna replete with (and symbolic of) cosmic power, or of the small ‘pods’ prepared by young men . . . to enhance their social and intellectual development and the acquisition of personal power pods in which they place various magical substances such as beetle wings . . . etc.” 11

“Collections of tribute” are and were also places of knowledge by “assembling things” and making them symbols of cosmic order. Assembling and re-assembling collections are what collections do: they collect other collections, or from other collections, and they assemble things that are themselves “repositories of power and symbols of the distant,” e.g., altars, curiosity cabinets, shaman’s drums, amulets and other cosmogrammatic objects. The collection of exotic objects and their exhibiting are symbols of power: the power of representation and the representation of sovereign or especially of imperial power. The collections of royalty, of courts, of cloisters and of feudal elites demonstrate their cosmic kingdom, their imperial power, and the superiority of elite consumption. So far, there is nothing specifically European in or about these characteristics. 3. The legal principles of this report are against the traditional principles of law. And they don’t try to acknowledge the legal conceptions of source communities either. If everything is loot, there are less reasons to investigate individual guilt, and the trajectories of objects. They are dis-entangled by classification, and they are de-individualized too. Tomorrow, once this report becomes practice, nobody will wish to know how many objects were looted. How individuals acted under which circumstances, which ethical choices they 10 Mary B. Helms: Ulysses’ Sail: An Ethnographic Odyssey of Power, Knowledge, and Geographical Distance. Princeton 1988, p. 164. 11 Ibid., p. 165.

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had, which trajectories objects followed, all these historical questions are submerged in a haze of collective guilt. Because not only the whole period of colonialism is re-classified as a period of war-crimes in Sarr’s and Savoy’s report, but each transaction too. Which makes it easy to re-classify everything as loot, even all academic activities up to 1960. But this way of categorizing will re-bound: generalized collective guilt will appear like so many cases of individual fate or half-innocence, or even innocence. The heterogenous histories of colonialism, of resistance and exchange, mutual transformation and inventions remain untold. Thus, the sweeping claim of loot and counter-loot will give way to amnesia, and the feeling of being cheated. In this report, nobody from the groups of owners of ethnographic artefacts up to 1960 is presumed to be innocent, instead they have to prove they were innocent, or somebody has to prove that for them. This is the logic not of a fair trial, but of an inquisition, a tribunal, or a poison ordeal. The rightful owner may not be able to prove anything, but then she or he or * are suspect or supposed to be guilty by association. The future owner may not be able to prove anything either, but then he or she just must prove he is acting in the name of a post-colonial state’s territorial sovereignty that includes persons on whose behalf he is claiming restitution, and she or he is capable of exercising their rights. 4. The report is not about the restitution of property, but about getting rid of inalienable property, and especially about getting rid of the concept of inalienability. 12 All that is left is a Roman conception of property and possession. It is this distinction that Bénédicte Savoy follows and that she defends against any notion of non-European law, and against European notions of “inalienability” that could and can be quite compatible with non-European legal concepts. In the consequences of this Roman law conception, things will be restituted as property. Which means they can circulate in marketplace. 5. Making inalienable property into profane property means making it commercial property: the report creates a new art market (and a potentially violent art market too). For the rejection of non-European law, read the following justification: At a conference on the “Right to self-determination of objects?” held last June at the Collège de France in Paris the anthropologist Benoît de 12 On the non-acknowledgment of different legal conceptions, see Larissa Förster’s seminal article in Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Nov. 24, 2018.

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L’Estoile convincingly argued for liberating the current restitution debate from the narrow, binary Roman-European legal straitjacket (droit des personnes et droit des biens) and confronting it with non-European ideas of law and property. The time had come to explore alternative concepts of property and ownership to develop forward-looking, innovative legal models for cultural heritage in the 21st century. Such an exploration certainly seems appropriate, if not overdue. In my opinion, however, it may also take place within our own legal tradition searching for lost options or productive constellations within that tradition, in the sense of a prospective historiography. Savoy writes: Yes, we should listen to foreign legal traditions, but we can do that in our own tradition. 13 We only must radicalize what we find in our tradition. And then she refers to the basic principle of Roman Law that distinguishes Roman Law from all other legal traditions and follows this reduction to the bitter end. It is from this rejection that B. Savoy develops her ideas of the healing power of “property” and the “restitution” of property. Because every act of acquisition in the colonial period (up to 1960) can be re-classified as “theft,” it never was legitimate property, and it always already was the “property” that is restored—or invented on the spot—for the future owner, and for future trade. Defining the thief defines “property” and defining all European possessions of Sub-Saharan artifacts as “loot” defines future property. “Property” and “possession” are metaphysically distinct; and “inalienability” never occurs as a relevant category, neither in the report nor in Savoy’s commentary on “Eigentum und Besitz“ (“Property and Possession”). B. Savoy quotes a Karl Pfeifer addressing Savigny in 1840 polemically: “Can one also exercise foreign ownership of a thing? One may well exercise ownership of a foreign thing, as is the case, for example, with the thief; or anyone else who treats the thing as his own and yet is not the owner of it. But I can’t imagine what it might mean to exercise foreign or even one’s own ownership of a thing. Considering the will to exercise foreign ownership of something, one might think, for example, of the will to exercise ownership of a thing of which one knows that it belongs to somebody else, i.e., a will such as that of somebody who steals, robs, misappropriates. But this is not how Savigny understands it, because the thief is supposed to have the will to exercise his own ownership of the thing!” 14

13 See Bénédicte Savoy: Eigentum und Besitz. Ein paar ideengeschichtliche Gedanken zu einem juristischen Begriffspaar (Property and Possession. A few thoughts from the history of ideas on a pair of legal concepts), https://voelkerrechtsblog.org/eigentumund-besitz/ (retrieved Nov. 26, 2018). 14 Karl Pfeifer: Was ist und gilt im römischen Rechte der Besitz? Eine Abhandlung, gerichtet gegen die v. Savigny’sche Doktrin über das Recht des Besitzes (i.e., What is

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The Sarr / Savoy-report is the manifestation of what Macpherson called “The Political Theory of Possessive Individualism,” in the name of collectives indeed, but first in the name of individuals that can speak in the name of collectives. And “property” in this report means alienable property handled by individuals, on behalf of collectives, yes, but on behalf of their self-interest, and on behalf of the self-interest of their individual and contingent constituencies. Interestingly, people from the art market have already spoken out against the consequences of the Sarr / Savoy report. 15 It seems as if abolishing the “inalienability” of Non-European Art in public collections may destroy the value of commercially traded Non-European Art too. Because Art in public collections represents the guarantee that your Collection may be redeemed by public collections, by donating a work of art, by arranging a museum for a collection, by building a public museum yourself or sponsoring one that houses your collection. Once this guarantee is gone, with restitution hanging like a sword above each artefact, commercial collections must be carefully hidden, or they suffer from the same consequences. Nothing guarantees the price of an artefact from non-European sources before 1960, because their twins may be restituted, and the artefact may be confiscated to prove its non-innocence. But even if the worries of the art market for Non-European Art are unfounded, the long-term consequences of the report, once they are practiced, will follow the Roman Law distinction that B. Savoy cherishes. The artefacts are liberated to enter non-European museums; an unknown quantity will be re-circulated; but the market may break down or be substituted by a “Black Market” of unknown future proportions.

property in Roman Law and what is the role of property in Roman law? A treatise, directed against the doctrine of v. Savigny on the legal status of property). Tübingen 1840, pp. 65 sq. The original text reads: “Kann man denn auch fremdes Eigentum an einer Sache ausüben?! Wohl kann man das Eigentum an einer fremden Sache ausüben, und das tut z. B. der Dieb; überhaupt jeder, welcher die Sache als seine eigene behandelt, und doch nicht Eigentümer derselben ist. Aber was fremdes, resp. eigenes Eigentum an einer Sache ausüben bedeuten soll, das kann ich mir nicht vorstellen. Es ließe sich unter dem Willen, fremdes Eigentum auszuüben, etwa noch der Wille denken, das Eigentum einer Sache, von welcher man weiß, dass sie einem Andern gehört, auszuüben, also ein Wille, wie ihn derjenige hat, welcher eine Sache stiehlt, raubt, unterschlägt. Aber in dem Sinne versteht es Savigny nicht, denn der Dieb gerade soll den Willen haben, eigenes Eigentum an der Sache auszuüben!“ Translated from the German by Robin Cackett. 15 Joseph Hanimann, Jörg Häntzschel, Thomas Kirchner: Richtig, falsch, übereilt, nichtig und sehr mutig. Emmanuel Macron gibt 26 Kunstwerke aus Benin an Museen zurück – und am heftigsten reagiert der Kunstmarkt (i.e., Right, wrong, hasty, void, and very brave. Emmanuel Macron returns 26 works of art from Benin to museums—and the most violent reaction is from the art market). In: Süddeutsche Zeitung, Nov. 26, 2018, https://www.sueddeutsche.de/kultur/raubkunst-debatte-richtig-falsch-ueber eilt-nichtig-und-sehr-mutig-1.4226044 (retrieved Nov. 26, 2018).

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The only specifically European transformation of the collections of tribute and of exotic specimens and crafts: In modern times, it’s not the king who is sovereign, but the people. The royal, clerical, and elitist collections become an inalienable “property of the people,” by opening the museum for the general public, by public responsibility for the collections, and by scientists and scholars taking control of the collections in the name of the administrative order, and vice versa. It seems only logical that all sovereign nation states and peoples have a right to administer and to own their own museums and its collections. And this taken-for-grantedness is at least one crucial factor in the recent debates on restitution. But of course, there is more to the question of collecting and exhibiting than just public collections: there are commercial interests, and there is the question of science and scholarship. Ever since the 19th century, and against wishful thinking to the contrary, there was a strong divide between the museum as a place of exhibiting, and the collection as a place for scientific and scholarly work. This dualism is irreducible, and it was only by compromise that the interests of representing the world (or exhibiting) and the scholarly and scientific interests to preserve and investigate the collections were linked (or divorced). And of course, there is the sphere of individual consumption and consumerism in general, the sphere of owning and cherishing NonEuropean Art. As the historian Frank Trentmann writes, “the proliferation of individual and institutional collections” may be the “most prominent manifestation of such consumerism.” And referring to the cosmological constitution of collections: “Cosmic kingship has been democratized: anyone can play the role of conservator and guardian of things facing extinction.” 16 Which means, anybody can become an owner of any collection by being the buyer of objects of any sort. 6. If you give up the custody of scientific scholarship for political reasons, the artefacts will be political artefacts, and they will be disinherited many more times. And this is the most important point. Skip the rest, but read and digest: Minorities and the source communities of ethnographic artefacts will not be protected under the new regime but will suffer from the consequences. They will be dependent on the representative institutions of post16 Thomas Trentmann: Crossing Divides: Consumption and Globalization in History. In: Journal of Consumer Culture 9 (2009), pp. 187–220, p. 201.

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colonial states, instead of post-colonial museums. The self-interest of postcolonial states will interfere with the precarious representation of small communities on the fringes of the world-system. And most of all these small communities will not own the artefacts—this will be a matter of the diplomacy of states and their institutions. There is no way this will be a better future for the rights of source communities. Especially, “restitution” will be trapped in politics. Of course, there will be political enthusiasm in African states for “restitution.” And that is where the trouble starts. Once “restitution” is a matter of political claims, objects may be claimed by several parties at once or from each generation to the next. The English version of the report by Sarr and Savoy, Fn. 35, states explicitly this is about nation-building in Sub-Saharan Africa: “However, the history of restitution has shown that once works are returned, the Nation-States are quick to welcome them and prepare for the adequate political infrastructures necessary.”

What about those minorities and small groups that live in conflict with their nation-states, and what about acknowledging that many, if not most groups that are represented in ethnographic museums have lived or may live in conflict with their states? All those unknown negotiations and restitutions between non-state people and ethnographical museums and collections in the past, yes, though it is hard to understand for believers in the state and its institutions, they will be made impossible by the future regime. Did it ever occur to Sarr and Savoy that the post-colonial state may be the inheritor of colonial violence and injustice, and that most of the small populations represented in anthropological museums and collections lived and live on the fringes of empires and states? History repeats itself, as footnote, as memory and as threat: “However, the history of restitution has shown that once works are returned, the Nation-States are quick to welcome them and prepare for the adequate political infrastructures necessary.”

Now, the discussion about museums and museum restitution is more than paradoxical, and it is problematic. We accept the fact that anthropological objects are traded commercially and owned privately, and if we see them in galleries, nobody seems to worry about their “loss of soul“ or vital force. But in museums, we question their status as tribute and representation and demand their “return.” But in the strict sense, there is no “return” and there is no “restitution.” Restitution is a narrative that invents the subjects for “restitution” under the premise that our public institutions are the inheritors of injustice, “that they are not ours” and have to be given away to other peoples’ institutions. We

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don’t feel the pain of their status as commercial goods; but we feel the pain of representing the world “for us” and of representing “us” for the world. And the scholarly and scientific interests to preserve and investigate the collections, the trusteeship of what is neither ownership nor representation, neither exhibition nor consumption, seems of negligible importance, as far as political and / or commercial decisions are concerned. The “repositories of power and symbols of the distant“ seem an embarrassing “survival“ from a criminal past, because publicly accountable exoticism itself has become embarrassing, whereas private exoticism and its collections are accepted, but may soon become critically scrutinized as well. Endless accusations state, quite correctly, that the bulk of all collections is never shown, and that it remains difficult to get access to the corpora of regional ethnographic collections. But if art museums would show all their artworks, we would be very much surprised, and shocked by what we might envisage. And nobody doubts that you must be a specialist to get a closer look at, e.g., a Michelangelo drawing. Just one example for the many double standards in this debate about Non-European Art (sic).

7. If you give up the heritage of anthropological museums, you are not turning artefacts into art: you are preparing for historical amnesia, and for anthropological amnesia. You are preparing for ethnocentrism of the worst kind: standardizing behavior, norms, and legal rights, instead of acknowledging the heterogeneity of behavior, norms and legal rights. Disinherit anthropology and prepare for a world of administrative norms. Sarr and Savoy propose to make restitution simple: filling out forms and making lists if you are the rightful owner. No personal negotiations and shared knowledge needed, only negotiations about filling out forms. Let the lawyers decide, instead of discussions between inheritors of traditions and rights and anthropological curators. Governing by lists, by filling out forms, all this will not amount to constituting justice, and not even to constituting a sense of justice. It will boil down to repeating the recognizable, to repeating what can be captured by listing. The individual or ‘artisanal’ negotiations between anthropologists and source communities will give way to legal ‘mass production.’ 17

17 See Tim Murphy: Legal fabrications and the case of ‘cultural property.’ In: Alain Pottage / Martha Mundy (Eds.), Law, Anthropology, and the Constitution of the Social. Making Persons and Things. Cambridge, New York 2004, pp. 115–141.

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The reason for current changes is twofold: Nation-states in the 19th century started to claim that their identity demanded selfrepresentation and the rightful ownership of objects manifesting that self-representation, i.e., the representation of genealogical manifestations of national identity—in all its material and nonmaterial forms. But European nation-states were empires too, thus, their representation was split between nationalist and imperialist (and thus, universalist) forms of representation. After World War II, “identity rights” gave rise to more and more property rights. Nationalist and ethnic forms of representation win in the long run. After all, we have about 25 more nation-states than in 1989. Publicly accountable exoticism goes against the grain of translating identity rights into property rights, which is not only a juridical movement, but a seemingly endless source of legitimacy. The focus of nationalism is the self-same: the self and the same. Nationalism believes in ethnic differences, and in places of origins, and the return to these places. And nationalist restitution claims are easy to understand for journalists and politicians because they combine two of the most powerful instruments of modernity: the property regime of Roman Law, and the constitutional rights of nation states to become the legitimate inheritors of ancient and modern empires, and of everything that inheres in their territories, their languages, and their cultures. O sweet poison! The language of identity is a language of property rights. And don’t these statues demand their return to the places of origin? And if we can’t avoid the gold standard of nation-states, why not embrace it? 8. If you put this report into practice, tragedy will be performed as travesty, and travesties will be parts of tragedies. “Purify us from our contamination with colonial guilt. And lead us not into temptation to regain what was ours in between, with the help of our immense financial means. And let our museums not be part of the new property regime. And please let them acknowledge we have given artefacts back to their rightful owners as long as they can claim to be rightful owners. And silence the voices of those who claim to have been cheated of their rights and even of their access to what their ancestors fabricated and traded. And let us not be responsible for the misdeeds of property unleashed by our irresponsibility. If the fate of our responsibility is to encounter irresponsibility ever after restitution, spare us this fate. And let amnesia reign.” 18 18 Note before going to press in Nov. 2020: I beg the indulgence of all those who feel hurt in their religious feelings by the parodistic adaptation of the Lord’s Prayer. My point

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Who are the losers in this steady erosion of publicly accountable exoticism? The small populations that are not or cannot be represented by nation-states or post-colonial states—which are most of the populations represented in anthropological museums (ca. 10,000 non-national groups vs. ca. 100 nation-states); the dead, because we would have to represent their worlds and not ours or that of our ancestors; the scientists and scholars who will soon be or are already employed in principal-agent relationships with political directives, instead of leading the politicians to do the right thing or doing it informally without consulting politicians and diplomats. The amalgamation of identity rights and property rights will be our nemesis and our abyss. In each case, we will find the dubious consequences of this amalgamation. We will find the tragedy and the travesty, the laughter and the pain, the absurdity, and the pedantry of what-they-call-restitution. Our societies will change accordingly. In fact, the change is already happening. By the end, in February 2020: Nationalism appears to Sarr and Savoy as something so self-evident that they do not even wonder what offenses are possible on behalf of the states they want to entrust with the objects they commandeer (or wanted to entrust in their report). Postcolonial nation-states rejoice when first-rate cultural objects are offered to them for the purpose of “nationbuilding,” and then—as quoted above—they also create the “appropriate political infrastructures” to exhibit, store, circulate, scientifically process, and, if necessary, destroy the works. Would it not have been better to require for any measure of future ethnological museums that they work toward de-nationalizing their exhibitions and collections, and not be of service to any future or existing nation-state in establishing its patriotic interests? (And not even to our own nation-state.) Ethnological curators have observed this maxim in German ethnological museums for at least a generation, it seems in retrospect. Sarr and Savoy overrule this way of thinking with a stroke of the pen. They do not say a word about the relationship between the many communities of origin of their objects and the postcolonial states to which they want to see these objects entrusted. “The postcolonial state has always been a colonial state toward its ethnic minorities.” This sentence, a provocative truism among ethnologists (and

was to point out that our actions can take the form of a prayer, and, when it comes to our relations with the unpacified dead, in part they must.

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taken from an E-Mail from an older generation ethnologist to the author of these lines), amounts to a cruel irony: that today‘s anti-colonialists, through their reliance on post-colonial state-building, will seal the legacy of colonialism where they think they can fight and dissolve it. . . . . and a short P.S. in January 2023. Things have changed again, and at least all so-called Benin Bronzes in German public collections will be given “back” to an African consortium consisting of the Royal Family of Benin City, the regional government, and the state of Nigeria. In Hamburg, I was able to attend a guided tour of the Benin artefacts in the MARKK collection given by the director, Barbara Plankensteiner, who some years earlier had organized the first international exhibition uniting as many Benin Bronzes as possible. In the middle of the guided tour, the museum director acknowledged that, of course, the museum people did not know what would happen the day after restitution. This honest remark and the resulting puzzling silence reminded me of the way software was developed in the olden days, when engineers did not know exactly what customers wanted computers to be used for. They called it an “over the wall approach”: Throw your product on the market and find out what happens. I still find it a slightly puzzling historical moment, because it seems to be about getting rid of old entanglements and not about achieving a new relationship translating the past and the present into a joint future. I find it highly significant that even Felwine Sarr in his most recent interviews becomes impatient and says we should rather shut our mouths instead of wanting to contribute more statements on our relationship with Africa or African Art. 19 I think he has a point: getting rid of something by giving it back means that you want others to get rid of you, which means you are not going to help

19 “Die Europäer sollen eben gerade nicht helfen.” (i.e., “The Europeans are precisely not supposed to help.”). He said that Europe must first recognize that we live in a pluralistic world; it should not continue to try to occidentalize the globe and play diplomatic power games. Shortly after, Sarr became even more drastic: “Every dominant position, every recommendation is one too many. Europe must first throw its power gestures overboard. But it is afraid of losing its influence and is holding on to it frantically. Europe must get down from its pedestal and understand that we live in one world. Europe must learn to be silent.” (i.e., “Jede dominante Position, jede Empfehlung ist eine zu viel. Europa muss erst mal seine Machtgesten über Bord werfen. Aber es fürchtet, seinen Einfluss zu verlieren, und hält krampfhaft daran fest. Europa muss herunter von seinem Sockel und verstehen, dass wir in einer Welt leben. Europa muss lernen zu schweigen.”) Quoted after Harry Nutt: Kolonialismus und die Documenta: Besser schweigen lernen (Colonialism and the Documenta: Better learn to be silent). In: Frankfurter Rundschau, Aug. 1, 2022, https://www.fr.de/kultur/ gesellschaft/kolonialismus-und-die-documenta-besser-schweigen-lernen-91700060. html (retrieved Jan. 2, 2023).

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them in defining their new status and new objects, and not even their new relationship with us. They cannot redeem or even help us, if we are not able to define what getting rid means for us (us the former owners) and should mean for us (us and them as . . . what?). And why should you want to be with them, when they have to find out themselves? There are no innocent bystanders in this museum anymore. That’s what we say and have told others for a long time now. That’s what they say and we have been told for a long time now. Those days are gone forever, over a long time ago.—

Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin

Provenance Research between Politicized Truth Claims and Systemic Diversionary Tactics

1 Introduction For my contribution to this volume, I use as a starting point several of my essays published in various newspapers between 2018 and 2023. 1 My objective was to argue against a sweeping condemnation of ethnographic collecting in colonial times, warn against an inconsiderate jumping on the bandwagon of restitution, and take a stand for careful differentiation. 2 From the perspective of anthropology, there is no such thing as “colonial collecting;” hence, one case varies from the next, and each one requires careful research. Likewise, I have argued against sweeping restitutions because, eventually, 1 Alles aus Frankreich muss zurück nach Afrika. In: Neue Zürcher Zeitung, Dec. 31, 2018, https://www.nzz.ch/feuilleton/kulturelles-erbe-afrikas-in-frankreich-sollrestituiertwerden-aus-emmanuel-macrons-plaenen-wird-ein-politisches-manifestld.1444037; Wohin mit der Raubkunst? In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Febr. 1, 2019, https://www.faz.net/aktuell/feuilleton/kunst/debatte-ueber-restitution-wohinmit-derraubkunst-16018402.html; Auch im alten Afrika ging es nicht gewaltfrei zu. In: Welt, May 3, 2019, https://www.welt.de/print/die_welt/kultur/arti cle192867205/Auchim-alten-Afrika-ging-es-nicht-gewaltfrei-zu.html (retrieved Oct. 1, 2019); Gauguin und die fehlende Wiedergutmachung. In: Basler Zeitung, June 17, 2019, https://www.bazonline.ch/kultur/kunst/gauguin-und-die-fehlende-wiedergutmachung/story/30718323 (retrieved Sept. 30, 2019); Danach fragt ein treuer Beamter. In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Jan. 17, 2020, https://www.faz.net/aktuell/feuil leton/debatten/raubkunstdebatte-am-beispiel-der-kultkrokodile-16584351.html (retrieved July 22, 2020); Dieses Blut gehört dem König. In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, March 16, 2021; Die lange Blutspur der Benin-Bronzen. In: Neue Zürcher Zeitung am Sonntag, Apr. 25, 2021; Warum das Luf-Boot im Humboldt Forum bleiben kann. In: Zeit, July 15, 2021; Der vergessene Wissensspeicher. In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Jan. 12, 2022; Tausche Kultur gegen Energie. Die Rückgabe der Benin-Bronzen an Nigeria dient nicht zuletzt staatlichen Interessen. In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Jan. 7, 2023. Wie ein Weltkulturerbe verloren geht: die BeninBronzen. In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Feb. 28, 2023. 2 See Karl-Heinz Kohl et al.: Das Humboldt Forum und die Ethnologie. Frankfurt on the Main 2019, pp. 35–52. I want to thank Karl-Heinz Kohl for reading and commenting on my contribution to the present volume.

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the legitimacy of the claimants for restitution must be verified, especially if they are individuals. However, you find the public discussion dominated by a simple offender-victim scheme based on, as Kostner has pointed out, forced assignments of both the victims’ and perpetrators’ identities: on one side, the colonialists and their hereditary debt—the ethnological museums –, on the other side, the “source communities” or the “indigenous peoples.” The underlying assumption of this scheme is the notion that groups with homogeneous and egalitarian identities persist unchanging through time. 3 In the public debate, apparently, vociferous pro-restitution protagonists propagate notions of “culprit and victim, guilt and innocence” seeking “purification” by employing ostentatious claims (for example, by demanding “the entirety of things must be returned to the countries of origin”) and thereby striving to regain their moral authority—since they assign themselves to the perpetrator group. Concurrently, the arguments in the restitution debate evolve against the backdrop of today’s human rights concepts and regulations. However, contemporary conceptions of rights and wrongs are confined to colonial interactions. Contexts of injustice from which the cultural objects may have originated, even if they contained severe human rights violations, are ignored. 4 My findings are based on my studies on cultural property conducted from 2009 to 2016 while I was part of the DFG research group “Cultural Property” at the University of Göttingen; one of my projects dealt with the illicit transfer of cultural property. 5 The research group started from the fact that over the past decades, there has been an increasing tendency to turn culture into acquirable property featuring the assumption that even culture has an owner. In this paper, I refer to the arguments Felwine Sarr and Bénédicte Savoy present in their report named “Rapport sur la restitution du patrimoine culturel africain. Vers une nouvelle éthique relationnelle” (“Restitution of African cultural heritage. Toward a new relational ethics”). 6 I have chosen their report as a reference point because it contains almost all the arguments the pro-restitution protagonists refer to when making their case for unconditional restitution. 3 See Sandra Kostner (Ed.): Identitätslinke Läuterungsagenda. Eine Debatte zu ihren Folgen für die Migrationsgesellschaften. Stuttgart 2019, pp. 10–13. 4 Nonetheless, I would like to clarify my position: I do not want to trivialize what happened during colonial times, nor do I approve of how some ethnographic collections came about—by looting, pillaging, and massacres. 5 Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin, Lyndel V. Prott (Eds.): Cultural Property and Contested Ownership. The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution. London 2017. 6 Felwine Sarr, Bénédicte Savoy: Rapport sur la restitution du patrimoine culturel africain. Vers une nouvelle éthique relationnelle. Paris 2018, http://restitution report2018.com/sarr_savoy_fr.pdf (retrieved June 30, 2019).

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Initially commissioned by French President Emmanuel Macron, the report also made waves in Germany, not least because Savoy had previously distinguished herself in Berlin as a fervent advocate for postcolonial provenance research and corresponding demands for restitution. Her resignation—with a bang—from the expert advisory board of the Humboldt Forum in Berlin is legendary. 7 In this piece, at the outset, I will critically reflect on the current position—often referred to as “postcolonial”—that assesses colonial collecting in terms of total liability and indiscriminately condemns anybody who was an active collector during the colonial period. Then I will analyze, correspondingly discerning, the politicized terminology used in the public discussion. Finally, I will discuss provenance research as part of the (capitalist) market economy.

2 Qualms about the Legitimacy of Moral Superiority I got involved in the restitution debate in 2017, when it became increasingly important at conferences and in the media. Since then, doubts didn’t stop nagging me about what objective such a debate about symbolic capital and the ownership of artifacts that were acquired in various ways in the colonies in the past could ultimately serve. 8 French President Macron initially launched the issue in a speech at the university in Ouagadougou in 2017, promising to return African cultural property from French museums to African countries. Fueled by the media, 9 the debate reached political circles in Germany—even those who have so far neither cared about the 7 She is said to have “shouted out” that the Humboldt Forum is “like Chornobyl” because it buries its malaises like “nuclear waste” under a blanket of lead. And Savoy is said to have continued that at the Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz (i.e., Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation) reigns “total sclerosis”; see Süddeutsche Zeitung, July 21, 2017, and Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, July 27, 2017. See also the contribution by Viola König to this volume. 8 See Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin: Ethnologische Provenienzforschung – warum heute? In: Larissa Förster et al. (Eds.): Provenienzforschung zu ethnografischen Sammlungen der Kolonialzeit. Positionen in der aktuellen Debatte. Elektronische Publikation zur Tagung “Provenienzforschung in ethnologischen Sammlungen der Kolonialzeit”. Museum Fünf Kontinente, Munich, Apr. 7–8, 2017. Berlin 2018, pp. 327–333, https://doi.org/10. 18452/19029 (retrieved June 30, 2019). 9 Journalist Jörg Häntzschel (Süddeutsche Zeitung), one of the media opinion makers on the restitution of “looted colonial art,” researched restitution claims in Africa in early 2019 and tried to get some statements. He is quoted in an interview in Cameroon: “J’ai eu à interroger des personnes en Afrique mais elles ne m’ont jamais répondu. C’est très difficile d’avoir des avis là-dessus pourtant je vous assure que le sujet fait des vogues en Allemagne.” (i.e., “I have asked personalities in Africa, but they have never answered. It is very difficult to get views on this subject. But I

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decades-long underfunded existence of ethnological museums or taken an interest in their collections, nor thought about the collections’ origins. Nonetheless, numerous German scholars and activist groups advocate for a historical reappraisal of colonial wrongs and making amends. 10 As a matter of fact, research neglected key topics for far too long—like the acquisition circumstances regarding cultural objects during the colonial period and how they finally ended up in European museums. (Not to mention private collections, as for them, the lifting of the lid has not yet begun.) Indeed, the history of the acquisition has always been a part of ethnological research on artifacts. 11 However, with few exceptions, such historical analysis was not embedded in explicit postcolonial-political contexts. 12 When it comes to this debate, brimming over with moral indignation and verve, I deeply miss any self-reflective approach—i.e., an explicit statement on the individual position from which the debate’s participants criticize the colonial era, reprove those days’ cultural goods’ acquisitions, and assign blame. 13 In Germany, the dominant protagonists of the prorestitution faction seem to assume that the era of colonialism (character-

10

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assure you: This is a topic that creates a stir in Germany.”) Voix du Koat: Vol de la mémoire: aidé par l’inertie des Africains, l’Allemagne refuse toute restitution, Febr. 24, 2019, http://lavoixdukoat.com/vol-de-lamemoire-aide-par-linertie-des-africainslallemagne-refuse-toute-restitution/ (retrieved July 15, 2019). Ethnological museums in Germany began to search their collections for art looted in colonial days once research on art looted by the Nazis had brought relevant artworks to light. See Hauser-Schäublin (note 8), p. 89. Provenance research suddenly became mainstream. Meanwhile, almost every major ethnological museum in Germany conducts provenance research as one of its currently most urgent tasks. Several major research funding institutions have started similar programs endowed with considerable third-party funding. From 2017 on, Museums have seen an increase in new positions created for provenance research unparalleled for decades. See Larissa Förster: Eine Tagung zu postkolonialer Provenienzforschung. Zur Einführung. In: Förster et al. (note 8), p. 16. One of the few exceptions was the director of the Bremen Überseemuseum, Herbert Ganslmayer (1975–1990), who advocated the return of Ethnographica as early as the 1970s. See Herbert Ganslmayer: Nofretete will nach Hause: Europa – Schatzhaus der “Dritten Welt”. Munich 1984; see also on restitution Eike Haberland: Überlegungen zum Problem der Restitution von Kulturgütern an die Dritte Welt aus der Sicht des Ethnologen. In: Das Museum und die Dritte Welt. Bericht über ein internationales Symposium vom 7–10. Mai 1979 am Bodensee. Munich 1981, pp. 144–153. Historians active in provenance research on Nazi plunder criticize former museum representatives, art collectors, and art dealers for not reflecting on their actions in writing. Hoffmann, for example, writes about Hildebrand Gurlitt that, in his case, “there is no hint of critical reflection on his role as an art dealer in the Third Reich. [. . . ] In doing so, Gurlitt loaded a second debt onto himself.” Meike Hoffmann: Eine kritische Betrachtung von Hildebrand Gurlitts Lebensweg. In: Bestandsaufnahme Gurlitt. Munich 2018, p. 25. However, critical reflection upon their own bias is also lacking among researchers on Nazi plunder.

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ized as “une ère de violence” 14) is over—and everything is better today. The moral imperative of “decolonization” underpins this viewpoint’s presentday, self-righteous character and its implicit moral superiority. As is well known, the Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict was signed only 69 years ago. In 1954, UNESCO and the contract-signing states created this convention under the impression of the destruction caused during two world wars 15; it prohibits, among other things, wrecking, looting, and violently impropriating cultural property. 16 Besides, two multilateral agreements have also had a significant influence on today’s values: the 1949 Geneva Convention (featuring a focus on protecting people—not objects—from “war crimes”) and the 1948 UN Declaration on Human Rights. 17 After all, a glimpse behind the curtains reveals that the moralizing, complacent point of view relies on 20th-century historical achievements and criticizes earlier times as if these regulations had always been in force. Criticism from today’s point of view is, of course, legitimate. Still, first of all, at least from a critical theory’s point of view, the conditions and ruling conceptions of an era should be taken into account from the period in question before giving a judgment from today’s perspective. Many officials, collectors, and scientists active during the colonial period, whether directly or indirectly involved, were hardly aware of any wrong as ruled from today’s point of view, especially since a different understanding of the law and other moral standards prevailed at that time. In almost the same manner and despite knowing better, scholars, even today, seemingly are not prepared to acknowledge present-time relations of injustice and violence, mainly becoming manifest between the “Global South” and the industrialized countries of the North.

14 See Sarr, Savoy (note 6), pp. 9–11. 15 I do not discuss the precedent conventions dating back to the end of the 19th century here. The subsequent UNESCO conventions also build on this Hague Convention. All in all, these conventions anchored notions of significance and value regarding material cultural property in the broad public’s consciousness. See also the contributions by Lukas Meyer, Matthias Goldmann, and Beatriz von Loebenstein to this volume. 16 It is noteworthy that the convention does not stigmatize war as such. What’s more, it merely singles out a particular behavior that accompanies the acts of war, for example, the destruction of cultural assets and looting or “crimes against humanity” or the way prisoners of war and civilians are treated (as defined by the Geneva Convention of 1949 and its additional protocols). Recent war events show that such conventions have only limited effect. One cannot escape the impression that these conventions aim to humanize war by regulations—although war is the one crime against humanity par excellence. 17 In contrast to conventions like the European Convention on Human Rights, declarations are not legally binding.

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3 A Blind Spot The North’s economic prosperity is built on this system of injustice. Indeed, its occurrence is not “solely” the consequence of colonialism but of a system emerging as early as 1492 in the wake of the European expansion, as Eric Wolf (1982) has convincingly shown. 18 This worldwide process of mercantile and capitalist development has permeated and transformed the most diverse of local societies. Since the second half of the 20th century, this development increasingly escaped socio-political control in the process of intensifying “liberalization.” Meanwhile, gaining momentum of its own accord, the phenomenon has long since ceased to emanate “solely” from the “West” or “North.” Driven by the greed for profit maximization, the vicious spiral of production, marketing, and a constant stream of lulling advertisements aimed at potential consumers has visibly become more and more short-phased and steep. Meanwhile the production process often leans on underpaid resource extraction and production in countries that allow wage dumping and employment without social insurance. Less restrictive laws regarding environmental and health issues result in even more waste which in turn ends up in the countries of the South again. Most everyday commodities, from T-shirts to encapsulated coffee to cell phones, inherit their part of these processes. Worldwide the prosperity of the wealthy relies on the tacit acceptance of the suffering and death of millions of people. The colonial period was undoubtedly a turning point. Still, it was only one epoch in an unfolding process, as Wolf has so aptly analyzed and demonstrated, nowadays gaining high-velocity momentum that surpasses any previous dynamics. Like many protagonists of the pro-restitution faction, Sarr and Savoy fail to address the present-day exploitation of Africa (and other countries of the South) by states and consortia (in forms of land grabbing, lending, plundering of mineral resources, customs and trade restrictions in favor of industrialized countries, etc.). Likewise, the looting and (intentional) destruction of cultural property in contexts of military actions remain unmentioned while they occur daily in war zones—in Afghanistan, the Middle East, or Africa due to ethnic, religious, and political fanaticism. (One example is the destruction of the world cultural heritage site in Timbuktu in 2012.) Beyond that, organized militaries, even originating from countries in the North, continue to torture civilians and prisoners—whether in Afghanistan, Iraq (Abu Ghraib), Guantanamo, or elsewhere. Simultaneously, industrialized countries produce and export

18 See Eric T. Wolf: Europe and the People Without History. Berkeley 1982.

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weapons of war that find their way into conflict zones worldwide and provide the means to commit murder. These processes happen in no way covertly. And the media coverage shows: they are causing casualties every day. However, the systemic side of these processes, like subjugation and exploitation, remain almost invisible, for example, the substantial national debt of the countries of the South and the depletion of natural resources. Sociologist Jean Ziegler speaks of the “robber barons of globalized finance capital” 19 when he pointedly indicates that the flow of capital from South to North is far greater than from North to South: “The debts serve to strangle the impoverished countries. [. . . ] The little money the African countries generate [. . . ] goes straight back into the vaults of European and American creditor banks in the form of interest payments or repayments.” 20

One should add that by now, one of the largest and most potent lenders, especially to relatively small and impoverished countries, is China, respectively, its state-controlled central bank. If the impoverished countries cannot meet debt repayments, China is entitled to their infrastructure by way of a pledge. 21 Investigative journalist Tom Burgis speaks of a “looting machine” that systematically plunders Africa’s rich natural resources. Nowadays, the looting machine operates across state borders: “Where once treaties signed at gunpoint dispossessed Africa’s inhabitants of their land, gold and diamonds, today phalanxes of lawyers representing oil and mineral companies with annual revenues in the hundreds of billions of dollars impose miserly terms on African governments and employ tax dodges to bleed profit from destitute nations. In the place of the old empires are hidden networks of multinationals, middlemen and African potentates. These networks fuse state and corporate power. They are aligned to no nation and belong instead to the transnational elites that have flourished in the era of globalization. Above all, they serve their own enrichment.” 22

One could give many more examples, such as the European Union’s CO2 emissions trading system. 23 All these “strangleholds,” as Jean Ziegler once 19 Jean Ziegler: Was ist so schlimm am Kapitalismus? Munich 2019, p. 57. 20 Ibid., pp. 82 sq. 21 See Sebastian Horn, Carmen Reinhart, and Christoph Trebesch: China’s Overseas Lending (Kiel Working Papers 2132). Kiel 2019. 22 Tom Burgis: The Looting Machine. Warlords, Tycoons, Smugglers and Systematic Theft of Africa’s Wealth. London 2015, p. 8. 23 See Tamara Gilbertson, Oscar Reyes: Globaler Emissionshandel. Wie Luftverschmutzer belohnt werden. Frankfurt on the Main 2010; see also Klaus Werner-Lobo, Hans Weiss: Schwarzbuch Markenfirmen. Die Welt im Griff der Konzerne. Berlin 2018.

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called them, do not aim at symbolic capital but at economic capital; in short: at stake is the survival of broad segments of the population. Against this backdrop—briefly depicted here—the elites in the countries of the North currently discuss questions regarding symbolic capital going back to the colonial era with (partial) elites from the countries of the South. What’s more, they urge many who haven’t yet demanded any “restitution” to make a move, so to speak, towards reclaiming and subsequent take-back—in the sense of “a moral compensation for suffered injustice.” 24 Apparently, it is not tropical-helmeted whites or soldiers operating as the long arm of a regime of colonial masters, who massacre local groups some place outside Europe, plunder villages and drag rich booty home (to serve a common image of colonial times). Today, the murder of people (or at least the acceptance of their suffering and death) conforms to a much more subtle (or perfidious?) pattern. The killing happens indirectly and is set in motion far away from the scene of events but happens with active participation—via consumption—even of the pro-restitution protagonists. If I had to couch that doubt in terms that doesn’t stop nagging me when I follow the restitution debate in its breathlessness, loudness, and decisiveness, I would put it this way: To what extent does a discussion about giving back—predominantly elitist—cultural assets deposited in elitist institutions in Europe to the new (or old) elite in Africa serve to distract from the current socio-economic processes of exploitation and the everyday struggle of broad segments of the population for survival? Is it in the service of the capitalist system and its winners? These questions also arise regarding the French president’s Ouagadougou speech mentioned above. Addressing the political, educational, and economic elites, but above all, “the youth” (“la jeunesse”) of Africa, Macron took up the theme of a common history (“histoire commune”) that links France with Africa. He sees this shared history as the starting point for elaborating a future-oriented joint philosophy, a reciprocally shared world of imagination (“imaginaire commun”). 25 In his blueprint for the future, he named mutual friendship as the basis and culture as the most crucial remedy (in a healing and a creative capacity) for bringing about a conjoint world of imagination. And he promised to return the African states’ “cultural heritage” (patrimoine culturel), deposited in French museums, temporarily or permanently within the next five years. As a second “remedy,” he mentioned sports, and as a third, the shared French 24 Kostner (note 3), p. 12. 25 https://www . elysee . fr / emmanuel - macron / 2017 / 11 / 28 / discours - demmanuel macron-aluniversite-de-ouagadougou (retrieved June 30, 2019).

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language or francophonie, the adoption of the former colonial language by the former colonies. The concept of francophonie includes both the shared (colonially introduced) language and the spread of a shared culture. To put it pointedly: Macron invoked in an almost cynical way the successful completion of the civilizing mission (“mission civilisatrice”) that has served France as an argument to legitimize its colonial policy and is now supposed to open the way to a common future tailor-made to European notions. 26 Macron’s speech focused on Europe-centered symbolic (start-up) capital and ignored the survival problems of broad sections of the population in Africa and the systemic relations of exploitation responsible for these problems.

4 Political and Eurocentric Terms 4.1 Cultural Heritage Instead of Cultural Property Many scholars involved in the restitution debate use concepts and terminology in their texts that originate primarily from political discussions and activist language. To begin with, Sarr and Savoy do not speak of “cultural property” (“biens culturels”), as does, for example, the UNESCO Convention on the Unlawful Transfer of Cultural Property, signed in 1970. They use the term “African cultural heritage” (“patrimoine culturel africain”). In its French version, the UNESCO Convention uses the term “biens culturels”; in the English version, you find the phrase “cultural property.” The equivalent legal term in German is “Kulturgut,” respectively the plural form “Kulturgüter.” 27 The UNESCO Convention defines cultural property as follows: “The term ‘cultural property’ means property which, on religious or secular grounds, is specifically designated by each State as being of importance for archaeology, prehistory, history, literature, art or science.” 28

26 Esp. noticeable is here that he did not offer to make important European works from the Louvre, the Musée d’Orsay, or the Musée Picasso available to the “francophone” African states. Appiah had already made a similar demand; see Kwame Anthony Appiah: Whose Culture Is It? In: James Cuno: Whose Culture? The Promise of Museums and the Debate over Antiquities. Princeton 2009, pp. 71–86, esp. p. 84. 27 German is not one of the official languages of the United Nations (and its suborganizations); accordingly, there is no official version of the Convention in German. 28 Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property 1970, https://en.unesco.org/ about-us/legal-affairs/convention-means-prohibiting-and-preventing-illicit-importexport-and, retrieved Jan. 2, 2023.

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Even the Intergovernmental Committee for Promoting the Return of Cultural Property to its Countries of Origin or its Restitution in Case of Illicit Appropriation chose the term cultural property and not cultural heritage as part of its name. There are legal considerations behind this. As international law scholars Lyndel Prott and Patrick O’Keefe point out, the legal concept of cultural property deals primarily with the owner’s rights (and obligations). After all, this concept does not specify who the owner is or should be and how someone came into possession of the cultural property. In more recent conventions, the term cultural heritage has become increasingly used, for example, in the 1972 World Heritage Convention or the 2003 Convention for the Safeguarding of Intangible Cultural Heritage. In contrast to cultural property, the phrase cultural heritage is a policy term intended to ensure the protection of cultural heritage for the enjoyment of present and future generations. 29 Here, therefore, the present and future (co-)users and heirs are already defined: In principle, this is the world public, i.e., everyone. Eventually, the notion implies, for example, that if UNESCO recognizes a local cultural asset as a “world heritage site,” it becomes a global public property. 30 Indeed, cultural assets always have an “audience.” However, each respective audience is culturally defined. An asset’s audience hardly ever encompasses a public as general as the one UNESCO addresses by its concept of heritage. From the perspective of international law, the idea of world heritage limits the rights of the owner (be it an individual, a legal entity, a community, or a state) to the effect that other groups of people gain access to the respective world heritage, too. 31 The terms cultural property and cultural heritage both refer to notions of ownership and proprietary principles, albeit in very different ways. From an anthropological perspective, cultural heritage is not an analytical but a normative term, as Prott and O’Keefe have already emphasized. 29 See Lyndel V. Prott, Patrick O’Keefe: ‘Cultural Heritage’ or ‘Cultural Property’? In: International Journal of Cultural Property 1 (1992) No. 2, p. 309; see also Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin, Lyndel V. Prott: Introduction: Changing Concepts of Ownership, Culture and Property. In: Idem (Eds.) (note 5), p. 10; see also Valdimar Hafstein; Making Intangible Heritage. Bloomington 2018, pp. 1–20. The UN Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples of 2007 is the declaration that most clearly expresses the policy goal linked to the concept of heritage. See the contribution by Judith Hackmack and Wolfgang Kaleck to this volume. 30 Melanie Wiber: Cultural Property, Repatriation and Relative Publics: Which Public? Whose Culture? In: Franz von Benda-Beckmann, Keebet von Benda-Beckmann, Melanie Wiber (Eds.): The Properties of Property. New York 2006, p. 332. 31 Markedly, this is most obvious in the case of the World Heritage Sites. When inscribed in the UNESCO list, even local sanctuaries such as temples, for example, must be made accessible to visitors from around the world. Such a requirement is not always met with enthusiasm by the local population, the original owners of the respective temple.

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The word inheritance points to someone bequeathing the cultural assets and implies a specific relationship between people of different generations (defined by state law or by the respective kinship system) that regulates the passing on of rights / duties and property from the older to the younger generation. However, the cultural heritage concept prevalent in the restitution debate does not reflect a legal concept but common sense. Likewise, Sarr and Savoy do not reason about or define their understanding of the concept. Such a common-sense approach to cultural heritage is inspired by biologistical ideas and insinuates such a heritage, comparable to the genes, is handed down from one generation to another like in a bloodline. Eventually, cultural heritage has replaced the notion of cultural property in the restitution debates since the term draws attention to the emotional significance of assets and their importance for processes of identity formation. The underlying anticipation postulates an essentialist, quasibiological, trans-generational affiliation of people and assets, whether they are material or intangible cultural goods. In this way, it is relatively easy to determine, as even Sarr and Savoy follow suit, who is the rightful owner of the heritage (“propriétaire légitime”) 32: the descendants of the former owner 33 in the cultural property’s “source community.” 34

4.2 Concepts of Property Closely related to cultural heritage is the concept of ownership used in the restitution debates. And as it held true with cultural heritage, there is no assessment or explanation of the term’s exact meaning. Sarr and Savoy start from a Eurocentric-capitalist concept of property that recognizes only one right: that of a “rightful” owner. This property concept relies on the private and public spheres dichotomy. Introduced to the colonies by Europeans, it eventually found its way into the legal systems of the post-colonial states. 32 Sarr, Savoy (note 6), p. 25. 33 You’ll find hardly any differentiation made between owner and possessor in contributions to restitution debates. While it is relatively easy to identify the former possessor of a cultural asset (provided that corresponding oral or written information exists), the question of who owns the asset would be much more difficult to answer (see below). See also http://www.juramagazin.de/besitz_eigentum.html (retrieved July 19, 2019) 34 The phrase “source communities” gives off the impression of the immutability of social groups—as if contemporary societies were closed entities and still in the same conditions as they were a hundred or more years ago, despite demographic, social, economic, religious, and political change. For this reason, I use the term in scare quotes.

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Obviously, the two authors use the term deliberately because they want to put von Benda-Beckmann’s so-called “partisan political engagement” into practice. 35 However, their concept of ownership can’t do justice to the complex artistic, spiritual, socio-political, and performative rights and multiple forms of participation in individual artifacts deriving from specific historical contexts. Property is part of a specially designed and signified web of social relations regarding objects of value and certain rights over them and the accountability that goes with them. 36 BendaBeckmann, Benda-Beckmann, and Wiber understand property as embodying a whole “bundle of rights,” pointing to the range of different roles and meanings that property rights can have. 37 For instance, one would have to differentiate between certain levels: the ideological one, that of (locally- and state-run) judicial systems, that of actual social relations, and that of social practices associated with the assets in question. And last but not least, one would have to consider the connections between these levels. Accordingly, they distinguish in their analysis between social entities (individuals, groups, cooperatives, and states) that have property rights and corresponding responsibilities and the construction of objects of value as property objects. On top are the different rights and obligations that these social units have with respect to such assets. All these three dimensions are embedded in the dimensions of time and place. We have already touched on these complex relationships when discussing the example of cultural properties that have been declared world heritage. Suppose we apply this concept of ownership to nonEuropean cultural objects that were acquired in the colonies and are now in store in Western museums. In that case, the diversity of these webs of relationships and value assignment clusters becomes apparent. Hence, to avoid identifying a “rightful owner” over-hastily, one would have to examine the relationships at the time from which the cultural objects originate, the epoch’s actors (artists, patrons, owners, users, and audiences), and their rights and obligations. In addition, one should consider the exclusion and inclusion mechanisms at the time regarding the respective property, the manners of use and its users, and the practices of circulation, preservation, or destruction.

35 See Franz von Benda-Beckmann: Relative Publics and Property Rights. A CrossCultural Perspective. In: Charles Geisler, Gail Daneker (Eds.): Property and Values. Alternatives to Public and Private Ownership. Washington 2000, p. 152. 36 See Rosemary J. Coombe: Frontiers of Cultural Property in the Global South. In: Jane Anderson, Haidy Geismar (Eds.): The Routledge Companion to Cultural Property. London 2017, pp. 377 sq. 37 See Benda-Beckmann, Benda-Beckmann, Wiber (note 30), pp. 1–39.

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The character of transactions during the colonial period naturally form an essential part of such an analysis. Provenance research has so far been limited to the latter period. However, without taking into account the present time: current social webs consisting of rights, relationships, claims or obligations, and the assets’ significance for actors (individuals, groups, states) and institutions—in Germany and the countries of origin—as well as their relationships with each other. So far, studies also fail to address the current and planned use of the objects, including their audience. To do so would be a complex undertaking—and the results would be equally complex. It would be hardly possible to identify a single “legitimate” owner, all the more so, as cultural assets are not only of material quality, neither in the country of origin nor in Europe. Here, the concept of identity (whose identity, anyway?), both diffuse and simplistic, does not help either. Germany’s recent (2022) legally substantiated transfer of ownership of 1,130 Benin bronzes kept in German museums to the Republic of Nigeria is such a rushed restitution that it did not take into account even one of these considerations. 38 Nationalized or ethnicized cultural assets, especially if declared cultural heritage, are tools of power and identity politics and serve the demarcation from others. According to the credo of restitution protagonists, not one acquisition of a cultural asset by a European could have been legitimate during the colonial period. Due to the underlying reductionist view of a single “legitimate owner” and the capitalist concept of ownership, they a priori rule out that, in the course of their long presence in Europe, cultural assets of African (or any other) origin could become a cultural property (or “heritage”) of the hosting country. The material and non-material investments in preservation, documentation, research, and knowledge transfer (via exhibitions and publications) are expressions of the propertysharing network that has developed around such objects. 39 As mentioned above, Sarr and Savoy rule out multiple ownership. Yet it is precisely the multilateral connections of institutions and people inherent in artifacts that would offer the opportunity to make these connections and actors visible, to bring them together, and to encourage them to communicate with each other. This brief sketch reveals that concepts of property used in the current restitution debate (in the sense of cultural heritage and single ownership) 38 Hauser-Schäublin 2023 (note 1). 39 European museums housing cultural objects from Africa (and elsewhere) have made non-European “art” known in the first place—and shaped the image of Africa in Europe.

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are exceedingly restricted and Eurocentric in character: They serve primarily as political instruments.

4.3 Restitution The same applies to the concept of restitution. For one thing, markedly, Sarr and Savoy use the term even in the title of their commissioned report. They point out that the expression often triggers a defensive attitude among museums. They instance the restitution of 27 French (!) paintings stolen by the Nazis, indirectly comparing “colonial collecting” with Nazi plunder. Helmut Kohl officially returned them to French President François Mitterrand in 1994. The authors base their report on the definition of restitution given by a dictionary: “‘restituer’ signifie rendre un bien à son propriétaire légitime [. . . ].” (i.e. “‘restituting’ means returning property to its rightful owner.”) 40 They emphasize the moral obligation that goes with it. In their text, they use the term restitution consistently, occasionally replacing it with the word “retour” (i.e., redispatch); however, they don’t clarify a distinction in meaning. In terms of international law, at least as far as UNESCO is concerned, the situation is different. The 1970 UNESCO Convention uses the term restitution in the context of the illicit transfer of cultural property (in Articles 13 and 15). The differentiation of terms is much clearer in the already mentioned statutes of the UNESCO Intergovernmental Committee for Promoting the Return of Cultural Property, created in 1976 and since in use as a supplement to the 1970 Convention. 41 The Committee’s task is to assist countries that have lost cultural property of fundamental value and wish to recover it. 42 The statutes refer to such property as cultural heritage. 43 The name of this Committee already marks the difference: Returning cultural property may

40 Sarr, Savoy (note 6), p. 25. In the English Version: “To ‘restitute’ literally means to return an item to its legitimate owner.” Then follows the authors’ interpretation regarding cultural assets: “[. . . ] to restitute aims to re-institute the cultural item to the legitimate owner for his legal use and enjoyment, as well as all the other prerogatives that the item confers (usus, fructus, and abuses) [. . . ].” Ibid., p. 29: https:// restitutionreport2018.com/sarr_savoy_en.pdf (retrieved Oct. 1, 2019). 41 See UNESCO Convention 1970 (note 28) and Intergovernmental Committee: http:// www.unesco.org/new/en/culture/themes/restitution-of-cultural-property/intergov ernmental-committee/statutes-and-rules-of-procedure/ (both retrieved July 4, 2019). 42 See http://www.unesco.org/new/en/culture/themes/restitution-of-cultural-property/ intergovernmental-committee/statutes-and-rules-of-procedure/ (retrieved July 4, 2019). 43 It is up to the country of origin (a state that has signed and ratified the UNESCO Convention) to decide whether an asset is labeled cultural heritage or not.

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be a more or less voluntary process that can also come about due to insight or moral pressure. The term restitution applies when the appropriation of cultural property has been proven illicit. 44 The Intergovernmental Committee sees itself as a mediating and moderating institution; however, it also considers other options for resolving conflicts, such as the claimant filing a court action or opening arbitration proceedings. In any case, the Committee primarily encourages out-of-court procedures in compliance with the Operational Guidelines. The Committee underlines that several alternatives exist to the final return of a cultural asset, including a loan, temporary exchange of objects for study purposes and special exhibitions, and joint research and restoration projects. Invariably, museums try to avoid having the stamp of restitution put on their proceedings for returning cultural objects, considering that restitution in UNESCO’s sense of normative international law invokes an admission of guilt or comes near to a legally proven fact. Even in cases where the violation of the Convention was clear, U.S. and European institutions—and states—try to avoid this stigma and declare their acts of restitution as “voluntarily made” or “meant as a gift.” 45 France, for example, insisted in 2010 that the return of seventy-five 14th-century manuscript volumes originating from the royal library in (South) Korea, which French soldiers had looted in 1867 and taken to Paris, was not restitution 46 but a return—in the sense of a permanent loan. 47 Most of the protagonists of the restitution debate also use the term restitution indiscriminately. For them, the decisive component is the context of wrong—referring to the colonial period per se. Consequently, they decide on their own authority whether to label an act licit or illicit.

44 The Convention is not intended to take retroactive effect, i.e., it is not binding on the individual member states that have signed the Convention until after the date of ratification. 45 Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin: Entangled in Artefacts. Governing Diverging Claims to Rights to Cultural Objects at UNESCO. In: Birgit Müller (Eds.): The Gloss of Harmony. The Politics of Policy-Making in Multilateral Organizations. London 2013, pp. 154–174; see also Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin: Looted, Trafficked, Donated and Returned. The Twisted Tracks of Cambodian Antiquities. In: Hauser-Schäublin, Prott (note 5), pp. 64–81. 46 Sarr and Savoy refer concerning legal perspectives to contributions made at an “Atelier juridique” held at the Collège de France in June 2018; see Sarr, Savoy (note 6), pp. 119–123. However, the conference’s subject was not the concept of restitution but modalities of return (“le retour”). 47 See Hauser-Schäublin (note 44), p. 162. Sarr and Savoy also mention a return to South Korea—of Korean manuscripts that had been stored in the Bibliothèque nationale de France. In this context, they avoid the term restitution and speak solely of “returning” (“rendre”).

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5 The Art Market and Non-European “Art” A closer look at the categories of cultural goods under consideration for restitution shows that most of them fall under the rubric that would fetch a high price on the international art market today. 48 It is an open secret that the art market follows the laws of the marketplace like any other market: the price is subject to the fundamental forces of supply and demand. Cultural goods become commodities. In any case, the art market’s interest focuses on objects identified as “originals” by experts, especially art historians. “Replicas” are “worthless.” Behind this is an understanding of things that differs from perceptions in most formerly non-capitalist societies. Copying and emulating—according to culturally specific aesthetic ideas and social criteria—have been and continue to be common practices in many societies. Even in those cases when descendants of “source communities” today have opted for—temporary—replacements for cultural objects housed in German museums, a very different understanding of replicas became evident. The preferred “copies” were much larger and more massive—aiming for a 1:1 scale and faithful attention to detail and material played a subordinate role. 49 The art market, too, knows only a single owner: for a start, the one who calls the cultural object his property and sells it, and finally, after the transaction’s completion, the buyer. Due to European museums’ distinguishing practice of preserving things over long periods—that is, following Appadurai, enclaving (in the sense of inclosing)—each of them has become a thing unique in its kind, precisely what the art market needs to function at its best. 50 If cultural objects were considered the embodiment or abode of ancestors or powerful otherworldly beings, most societies have ascribed a life to these objects. As long as the perception prevailed that the assets owned magical powers, they were carefully preserved. If they lost their 48 See Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin: Es zählt allein das Argument der Moral. In: Neue Zürcher Zeitung, Nov. 16, 2020, https://www.nzz.ch/feuilleton/ns-entschaedigungs forderungenund-das-argument-der-moral-ld.1583873 (retrieved Dec. 7, 2020). 49 See Anne Splettstößer: Umstrittene Sammlungen. Vom Umgang mit kolonialem Erbe aus Kamerun in ethnologischen Museen. Die Fälle Tange / Schiffsschnabel und Ngonnso’/Schalenträgerfigur in Deutschland und Kamerun (Goettingen Studies in Cultural Property, Vol. 15). Goettingen 2019, pp. 309–313. See also, for example, the controversy on a ship’s beak of the Cameroon royal family Bele Bele housed in the Museum Fünf Kontinente in Munich (https://www.faz.net/aktuell/feuilleton/kunst/ debatte-ueber-restitutionwohin-mit-der-raubkunst-16018402/objekt-der-begierdeder-16018434.html) and the “copy” made by Prince Kum’a Ndume: http://lavoix dukoat.com/vol-de-lamemoire-aide-par-linertie-des-africains-lallemagne-refusetoute-restitution/conference-africavenir/#prettyPhoto/0/ (both retrieved Nov. 7, 2019). 50 See Arjun Appadurai (Ed.): The Social Life of Things. Cambridge 1986.

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power, their life came to an end, and they were either destroyed or left to decay. However, they were replaced by newly made ones—hardly ever created in the European sense of faithful reproduction. In contrast, artifacts in collections and museums no longer bear their life in transience but feature an embedding in abstract timelessness. On the art market, objects of utility, i.e., objects of everyday use such as clothing and jewelry, furnishings such as stools and mats, or tools and weapons, are irrelevant unless they display a distinct artistic design. Hence, there is hardly any talk of “unspectacular” cultural objects in the restitution debates. What remains unconsidered—or considered insignificant—is the diverse local knowledge developed primarily by local communities. Be it a society of hunters and gatherers, agriculturalists, or pastoralists: Craftsmen of various kinds, musicians and dancers, and those producing specialized goods in villages and towns—they have all developed and passed on local knowledge, techniques and skills over centuries, which have found their material expression in everyday objects. The diverse bodies of local knowledge represent intangible cultural heritage. Depicted solely in publications that are not accessible to readers in the countries of origin (due to the type of the publications—written in scientific and theory-loaded jargon—or the respective language), the intangible cultural property lies dormant in numerous archives in Europe. Yet, documents such as audiotapes, photographs, films, or texts containing knowledge and perceptions of the local populations are fragments of history and human experience, even more so than the material cultural objects, the art market’s highly coveted artifacts. Intangible cultural manifestations also provide snapshots of earlier times. They are testimonies to the knowledge and skills of men and women, and even more than the elitist art of the powerful, they deserve to be made available to broad segments of the population as a medium for identity development.

6 Elitist Cultural Documents—Identity-Establishing in Favor of Whom? The restitution debate focuses, as should already have become apparent, on material objects that promise considerable profits in the art market. In the media and political debates, those participating constantly invoke “identity formation” when they speak of material cultural objects and their importance for the countries of origin or the descendants of the communities of origin. 51 51 Everything related to “identity” is subsequently made taboo. Posing critical questions becomes equivalent to breaking a taboo.

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In accordance, Sarr and Savoy emphasize the importance of symbolic objects paramount in stimulating identity formation. According to the authors, dispersed communities could rally around inherited objects (“objets du patrimoine”) even across borders because these material testimonies symbolize the communities’ unity. 52 A closer look at quite a number of the artifacts listed as potential candidates for restitution today reveals that they qualify to a considerable extent as power insignia of autocratic rulers and male-dominated hierarchies when assessed against today’s concepts of human rights and democratic participation. That such artifacts, of all things, formerly instrumental for allegedly predetermined elites for ruling over their “people,” should serve the identity formation of the general populace and an indiscriminate number of communities in sub-Saharan Africa comes across as somewhat cynical. According to Sarr and Savoy, such objects should enable individuals and communities to do memory work (“travail de mémoire”) and thereby help them to rediscover their identity. 53 The term travail de mémoire, nowadays politically charged, originates in a specific context: coming to terms with National Socialism. Now, by way of analogy, it is applied to the colonial era. The authors and other protagonists of the restitution debate limit the memory work in its application to the scheme of perpetrator and victim: the colonialists and the colonized. The basic tenor of their plea also sounds as if, in pre-colonial times, all African (and other nonEuropean) societies were harmonious-egalitarian communities, free from violence and mechanisms of domination, and constituted by equal citizens. It’s a simple matter of reading between the lines to make out the image of the “noble savage” in such assumptions. Moreover, in public debates on restitution, it is considered taboo to take a critical look at pre-colonial social conditions. In an interview with the Süddeutsche Zeitung, Savoy provocatively claims that she wants to know “how much blood is dripping from a work of art.” Yet the assertion shows that she is blind in one eye since she has merely the acquisition during the colonial period in mind. 54 You won’t find a single word about all the earlier murderous acts of violence committed with or for such a “piece of art” before the colonial acquisition. The perpetrator-victim schema becomes a firm binary grid featuring black52 See Sarr, Savoy (note 6), p. 28. The authors’ idealistic formulation ignores the fact that nation-building is still a challenge for many states. 53 See ibid., p. 30. 54 Bénédicte Savoy: Ein unlösbarer Widerspruch. “Das Humboldt-Forum ist wie Tschernobyl.” (Interview by Jörg Häntzschel) In: Süddeutsche Zeitung, July 21, 2017, p. 9, https://www.kuk.tu-berlin.de/fileadmin/fg309/dokumente/Translocations/In terview_ Humboldt_Forum_SZ_21072017.pdf (retrieved Sept. 21, 2019).

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and-white thinking in which indigenous perpetrator-victim relationships have no place; hence, they would weaken the pro-restitutionists’ main argument. By way of example, many contributions to restitution debates refer to Benin’s stolen objects. Particularly the famous Benin bronzes and ivory carvings that the British confiscated in the king’s palace during a punitive expedition in 1897 seem to provide a prime example of colonial violence and artifacts looted during colonial rule. Besides, the course of warfare upon which the punitive expedition followed is rarely mentioned. 55 What’s more, the objects’ original local socio-religious and political context is completely ignored. One of the punitive expedition’s senior officers, Reginald Bacon, describes in his book Benin, the city of blood that, in particular, the homestead of the king of Benin was found drenched in blood at the time of the military advance. 56 As an accomplice to this violent colonial conquest, Bacon may have exaggerated when using the expression “deluged in blood.” However, his eyewitness account proves what earlier chroniclers had already recorded about the royal ancestor cult: people were martyred, mutilated, and killed in honor of the king’s deified ancestors. The British found bronze heads and ivory attachments smeared with human blood. 57 Now, when a Nigerian professor says of these bronzes that they “represent the identity and history of our people,” 58 this may be true for the descendants of the royal family—especially if one leaves out the ritual embedding of these cultural objects in the bloodthirsty human sacrifice rituals. But what about the descendants of those population sections exposed to the despotism of an autocratic ruler who gave the command to seize victims among them? What if the bronzes, promoted by the European urge for restitution, are instrumental in glossing things over concerning their owners’ history? Their return might bring the violent

55 See in marked contrast Barbara Plankensteiner: The Benin Treasures. Difficult Legacy and Contested Heritage. In: Hauser-Schäublin, Prott (note 5), pp. 133–155. 56 Reginald Bacon: Benin. The City of Blood. London 1897, p. 87. https://archive.org/ details/bacon-reginald.-benin-the-city-of-blood-1897_202010/page/86/mode/2up (retrieved Sept. 25, 2020). The former kingdom of Benin is in what is now the state of Nigeria. 57 See Andreas Schlothauer: Das Königreich Benin in deutschen Medien – Was fehlt? In: Kunst & Kontext 15 (2018), pp. 60–79, http://www.andreasschlothauer.com/texte/ kk15_restitutionsdebatte_benin_nigeria.pdf (retrieved Jan. 22, 2021). 58 Müssen die berühmten Benin-Bronzen zurückgegeben werden? In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, May 12, 2019, https://www.faz.net/aktuell/feuilleton/kunst/zurherkunft-der-umstrittenen-benin-bronzen-16182906.html (retrieved July 10, 2019). See also the contribution by Osarhieme Osadolor to this volume.

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appropriation by the British center stage, hushing up the cultural context from which they originate. 59 Similar considerations may apply to masks and other material artifacts of men’s secret societies. Suppose one wants to take up the political-judgmental terminology common today in the restitution debate. In that case, one could say pointedly that people—especially boys and women—were terrorized and brutally abused with these objects. 60 Nevertheless, the restitution advocates, due to their idealized perception of the assets, recognize in these artifacts only the colonialists’ evil deeds (i.e., the violent appropriation) and fail to see that these objects are symbols of violence dripping with blood. The demand for restitution, as formulated by numerous protagonists of the restitution debate, mostly ignores the question of to whom and whereto the cultural property should be returned. Finally, hastily designating “heirs”—the descendants of the former owners—plays a central role in the reasoning, as was explained above. Sarr and Savoy mention, first and foremost, museums as possible recipients of the collections to be returned. As noted earlier, the idea of the museum is a European one. Colonial rulers also exported this idea to their colonies and established museums in almost all dominions. 61

59 The rapporteurs of the graduate session “Prozesse von Kulturerbekonstruktion, Nutzungen und Musealisierung von Vergangenheit” (i.e., “Processes of Cultural Heritage Construction, Instrumentalization and Museification of the Past”) (2018) in Porto Novo (until 1975: Dahomey), Benin, describe original objects in the Historical Museum of Dahomey (Abomey), housed in the former Palace of the Twelve Kings of Dahomey (UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1985). The report states that “the original European objects from the colonial context [experience] a devaluation. For example, gifts dedicated to the kings of Dahomey and originating from the era of the transatlantic slave trade (1721–1865) and the colonial period (1892–1960), such as crystal vases or brocade coats, are in poor condition. They are dusty now, so it became apparent to us that the original objects handed down from the transatlantic slave trade and colonial periods are not deemed worthy in Benin’s current museological practice, regardless of their historical value per se. Thus, the European gifts also recall the period of the slave trade and the active participation of Dahomey’s kings in it—a fact long tabooed and banned from mentioning.” See Claudia Jürgens, Barpougouni Mardjoua: Das Kulturerbe Benins auf dem Prüfstand der Zeit. Bericht der Doktorandenschule in Benin vom 14 bis 30. Juli 2018 in the blog: Wie weiter mit Humboldts Erbe?, https://blog.uni-koeln.de/gssc-humboldt/das-kulturerbe-beninsauf-dem-pruefstand-der-zeit/ (retrieved July 22, 2019). 60 For example, a young man from Liberia applied for asylum in Great Britain. He gave the reason that his imminent future held in store for him to be forcibly initiated into the Poro secret society. In the process, he would have suffered severe mistreatment that could have led to his death. He had fled from this in 2010. See https://tribunalsdecisions.service.gov.uk/utiac/aa-10941-2014 (retrieved Sept. 24, 2019). 61 Africa’s newest and most innovative museum opened in Dakar, Senegal, in 2019. It was designed in Beijing and financed and built by China.

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Thus, the artifacts to be returned would move from one colonial institution in Europe to another institution of colonial origin in Africa. Moreover, members of formerly powerful chiefdoms or kingdoms do not necessarily want their former insignia of power to be in a national museum but rather to have them in their personal possession. 62 The authors—obviously without giving it any further thought—consider, for example, the court of a “king” in Cameroon or even a museum in a sultan’s palace as suitable locations for collections to be returned. With scrutiny, one would have to monitor the individual case to what extent the return of collections—precisely: symbols of rule of the former elites—to palaces of former rulers would revive old feudal structures, at the expense of states struggling for democratization. Additionally, it would have to be assessed whether artifacts from different “source communities” get treated on par with each other in a palace museum inextricably linked to a particular ethnic group or elite.

7 Provenance Research—an Undertaking in the Service of the Free Market Economy As I have demonstrated, the restitution debate shows a set of characteristics. In my closing words, I will not collate them; instead, I would like to shed some light on provenance research in a larger social context. Provenance research is a concept in art history developed against the background of the needs of the unfolding Euro-American art market. Provenance research dates to the Holbein controversy at the beginning of the second half of the 19th century and the related Holbein exhibition in Dresden in 1871. The disputed question was which of the two pictures (the so-called Darmstadt Madonna and the Dresden Madonna, respectively) was “authentic” and could rate as a work of Holbein’s authorship. The corresponding assessment concentrated, among other things, on tracing the history of the paintings in the sense of today’s provenance research. In addition, for the first time, criteria specific to the field of art history gained shape regarding concepts of “authenticity” and “original,” resulting concurrently in the devaluation of the “copy.” 63 The essential process had a considerable impact on the art market: “genuine” became a more important criterion than “beautiful,” and consequently, “copies” 62 As it happened in Nigeria when Germany promised to return the Benin Bronzes in 2021, see Hauser-Schäublin 2023 (note 1); see also Splettstößer (note 48). 63 See Lena Bader: Bild-Prozesse im 19. Jahrhundert. Der Holbein-Streit und die Ursprünge der Kunstgeschichte. Leiden 2019.

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lost their economic value. As already mentioned, the art market is like any other: Supply and demand determine the price of a commodity. A supply shortage against the backdrop of effective demand results in advancing prices and steadily increasing profit margins. Limiting “originals” and “unique pieces” by definition produces scarcity. Only originals may bear the labels “genuine” and “authentic” that generate the respective increase in value (in the economic sense). “Replicas” are inferior. Replicas deliberately made for sale and passed off as “genuine” are considered “fakes,” and the activity is reckoned fraud. These assessments have also been applied to non-European “art,” and, notably, the restitution debate focuses on “originals” in the sense of definitions going back to the Holbein controversy. Provenance research essentially assesses material cultural goods and identifies their cultural origins and owners’ succession. 64 Moreover, provenance research analyzes the forms of transactions on the global market against the background of national and international legal concepts and rules of licit cultural property transfer. The research scrutinizes how these goods—rendered commodities—entered the market and what circumstances led to further negotiations or retaining. At the heart of provenance research is the capitalist concept of ownership. The primary purpose of provenance research is to ensure that the owner of a cultural object has acquired it legally. The focus is on the market’s rules and its actors’ integrity. That acquisitions are lawful is indispensable to the efficient functioning of the market. In Germany, in particular, a moral imperative has been introduced to anthropological provenance research; hence, the dreadfulness of Nazi plunder serves implicitly, or, as in the case of Sarr and Savoy, explicitly, as the background for assessing transactions made during the colonial period. 65 However, the moral imperative of provenance research is limited to the period of colonial interactions. Provenance research ignores everything that came before. Trapped in today’s perspective, the approach does not render an issue context of wrong from which cultural objects originated or questions about purposes they served. Equally, it ignores what comes “thereafter,” what happens next to returned things. In contrast to the ethnological approach of object biography in the sense of Appadurai’s social life of things, provenance research leaves the political

64 In the case of European art, provenance research includes the search for the creator of a work of art. With non-European “art,” it is “only” about the pre-colonial owner, who is assumed to be the proprietor. The question of authorship is not an issue. 65 Astonishingly, Sarr and Savoy do not say a single word about Napoleon’s looting of cultural property in Europe and Africa and the keeping of the assets in French museums.

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and social contexts of cultural objects in the “source community” aside. 66 The underlying cause is that the art market, in its system-immanent logic, asks no moral questions and limits evaluations to the question of the licit transaction of cultural objects. To put it another way, anything that happens “before and after the fact” does not affect market functionality. So far, as I have demonstrated, provenance research has primarily focused on objects featuring symbolic capital and therefore possess exchange value (and not use value). Basically, these are former elites’ political and religious insignia of rule. Everyday objects—things that had a practical value—play almost no role. 67 Ethnological collections pay minimal attention to material cultural objects that document the ways of life, knowledge, and skills of “ordinary” members of the respective societies. The restitution debates have hardly mentioned such things, nor the extensive body of knowledge and stock of skills enclosed as intangible cultural property in texts, audio recordings, photographs, and films accumulated in European archives and libraries. Provenance research in its current form is blind in one eye just because it is a child of the art market and focuses on potential prestige objects. 68 The consequences are devastating. As if that wasn’t enough, the limited focus is partly responsible for the ongoing moralizing restitution debate moving on without recognizing the current political and economic conditions that build its framework. Present-day provenance research does not address the geographical origins of consumer goods—neither in the case of today’s luxury items (which represent symbolic capital used as a marker for prestige) nor in the case of objects of everyday use. And it does not reveal the components the items are made of, or discloses the conditions under which they were produced, acquired, and resold. These challenges call for anthropological provenance research, that is, research in provenance in the broadest sense. And it is imperative to free the efforts from the art market’s means to take the studies into its service. In the course of staffing the many newly created positions, one can only hope that museums will consider a reorientation of their research activities. It’s about time that scholars, politicians, and the media industry open both eyes and expand their notion of “provenance research”: to include object history—and from there on, decide the current and future 66 See Appadurai (note 49). 67 This also applies to Nazi plunder and lootings in general. Nonetheless, everyday objects used plenty of times can represent important personal mementos regarding people or phases of life. However, the art market rates them “worthless”; accordingly, there are no reparation payments for them. 68 I have excluded the discussions about the repatriation of human remains on this occasion.

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priorities. To avoid misunderstandings: there is no binary choice. Sound scholarship needs a sense of proportion and shouldn’t suffer from tunnel vision. Provenance research’s historical analysis should consider past and present injustices, as outlined in this article.

Rebekka Habermas

Rescue Paradigm and Preservation Fetishism or: The Restitution Debate—Deep-Rooted in European Modernity?

1 Introduction One closer look at the current debate, and one can’t help but wonder why there are so many millions of dead animals, dried plants, and Ethnographica stored in German museums. No one knows the exact figures; however, estimates have it that there are several million stored in depots of museums in this country alone, in ethnological museums, natural history museums, art collections and local history museums, university collections and city museums. In the decades around 1900, the majority of these items came from outside Europe, not only from Africa but also from the Americas, Asia, and Oceania. Certainly, there are many reasons for this mass presence of objects and human remains in European and, with a delay, American museums. However, they all point to a veritable collecting hype at the turn of the century that must have had many Europeans in its grip. The research on the history of ethnology calls the underlying motif the rescue paradigm. The paradigm refers to the idea—very popular around 1900—that Europeans had an obligation to save objects of extra-European origin because the population producing these things was doomed (keyword: doomed races). By collecting the items—so the contemporary logic—the last traces of these doomed races would be saved for posterity. One consequence of the rescue paradigm was that people began to collect artifacts en masse. In the following, I want to demonstrate that it is worthwhile to study the collecting hype and the associated rescue paradigm occurring around 1900 in more detail, as its significance points far beyond ethnology. Indeed, the notion of rescuing was the guiding idea of ethnology. Still, large parts of the society (at least the middle class) of the time followed suit and joined

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the collecting activities in equal measure outside and inside Europe. This phenomenon is precisely the topic of the first section. A second section will shed light on the background factors of this all-encompassing idea of collecting and rescuing. We find these—so the argument—in the social upheavals around 1900, more precisely in debates that today’s analysis describes as part of identity politics. The controversies were closely linked to the so-called crisis of modernity on the one hand and the nation-state formation on the other. In the third part, I will return to the current debates and argue that we need to acknowledge them for a deeper understanding against the backdrop of the long history of European rescue fantasies and interwoven identity constructs. Indeed, the recent discussions are about much more than the question of who saves or returns what. Finally, it comes down to whether Europe will move away from a self-conception that has long been under fire—and with convincing arguments. The conception’s core is the idea, bordering on hubris, that Europe has both the obligation and the power to save the things of others on account of the belief that “the other society is weak and needs to be represented by an outsider”—as James Clifford put it back in 1986. 1

2 The Situation around 1900: Collecting and Rescuing in Ethnology and beyond the Discipline’s Boundaries—Inside and Outside Europe The enthusiasm for collecting animals, goods, and human bones in the non-European sphere is a fairly recent phenomenon. As a rule, it went hand in hand with robbery and destruction but could admittedly also take form in practices of exchange and purchase. Starting in the course of the 19th century, the phenomenon of passionate collecting, already popular in humanist scholarly circles, grew slowly but steadily. 2 Simultaneously, the

1 James Clifford: On Ethnographic Allegory. In: James Clifford, George E. Marcus (Eds.): Writing Culture. The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography. Berkeley 1986, pp. 98–121, p. 113. I owe thanks to Charlotte Prauß (Goettingen) for numerous corrections. 2 Undoubtedly, the first major expedition in which German travelers played a significant role had already brought home Ethnographica, Zoologica, and Naturalia. The Cook-Forster expedition to Oceania (Cook’s Second Voyage) aimed to pursue scientific research questions that were of interest to the Royal Society and other scientific expert groups at the end of the 18th century. However, it was not yet a matter of bringing back as many objects as possible to save them from decay. The significance of the collectibles oscillated between peculiarities and scientific core pieces. Besides, Carl Linnaeus, for one, was equally interested in both, while the early physicians concentrated on monkey skeletons and the likes to arrive at a more precise determination of the boundary between humans and animals—one of the

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idea became manifest that the Europeans’ practice of collecting was, so to speak, saving. Until the last third of the 19th century, few traveled outside Europe. However, none of the few travelers who collected in non-European spheres before the middle of the century, like Humboldt—or the Schlagintweit brothers shortly after 1850 –, considered the idea of saving paramount. And that mentality applied to both researchers and the broader public. Markedly, the Schlagintweits did not mention an allegedly urgent need to save people or things when reasoning to their potential sponsors and trying to win them over to the idea of a voyage to India in the mid-19th century. They proffered the necessity for scientific exploration of the non-European per se (invariably citing Humboldt each time). They also emphasized economic and national interests. Hoping for financial support from the East India Company, they played up colonial interests in their letters of request to the organization. They forwarded the unique possibilities for generating medical topographies as a precondition to the settlement of Europeans or taking soil samples to evaluate the prospects for agriculture and gathering geographical information to aid the military. 3 There was no talk of saving anything. In general, interest in things from outside of Europe was still quite undeveloped. The larger public did not yet share the collecting passions and rescue fantasies. In the 1860s, the Schlagintweits returned from a trip to India with more than 40,000 artifacts. Unsurprisingly, the brothers had considerable problems convincing their contemporaries of their activities’ relevance and the objects’ significance. When they looked for interested parties for their artifacts and Naturalia, they mostly fell on deaf ears. Then Frederick William IV died, and they couldn’t find other potential partners in Prussia for founding a museum in Berlin, an idea they had tried to sell to the late king. The cargo of the 510 boxes they had transported to Berlin, including a living pair of wild asses so called Tibetan Ghorkars, was not in great demand. 4 Just a few years after the Schlagintweits’ expedition to India, the situation had changed significantly: A broad collecting hype aiming at everything imaginable and non-European had spread in many academic

favorite research themes of Enlightenment scientists. Nevertheless, attitudes changed in German-speaking countries around the middle of the 19th century. 3 See Moritz von Brescius: German Science in the Age of Empire. Enterprise, Opportunity and the Schlagintweit Brothers. Cambridge 2019, p. 239. The brothers also used economic arguments when trying to knock off hundreds of textile samples they had collected in India: they reasoned that the samples would certainly provide important impulses for Prussian wool manufacturers. See ibid., p. 261. 4 See ibid., p. 273. London, however, came forward and demanded objects back—since they were the property of the East India Company.

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disciplines and among laypeople. From 1884 on, for example, Hans Schinz searched with the Bremen merchant Lüderitz West Africa for technically or medically utilizable plants—and returned with vast numbers of Ethnographica, human skulls, and Zoologica. 5 Numerous captains—and even ordinary sailors—brought back countless objects from their missions, including missions on warships. For one, the 1887 guide to the Berlin Völkerkundemuseum (i.e., ethnological museum) mentions seven warships by name that had brought back Ethnographica. 6 The inventory books of the Lübeck Völkerkundemuseum recorded merchants and consular officials amongst the collectors. 7 In Cologne, Freiburg, and Stuttgart, the collectors’ list included merchants and scientists in equal shares. 8 Some explorers traveled on behalf of the Colonial Office, others on their personal initiative and budget, and still others relied on grants from scientific societies. Among them were researchers with different backgrounds—be it medical, law, or natural science studies, such as Georg Schweinfurth, Franz Thorbecke, Richard Thurnwald, Paul and Fritz Sarasin, or Augustin Krämer. Some also traveled accompanied by their wives (Pauline Thorbecke, Elisabeth Krämer-Bannow), who had been prohibited from attending any university studies. Traveling to Africa, Oceania, and Asia, the explorers collected rock samples, Ethnographica,

5 See Gitte Beckmann: “Man muss eben alles sammeln.” Der Zürcher Botaniker und Forschungsreisende Hans Schinz und seine ethnographische Sammlung Südwestafrika. Zurich 2012. 6 See Königliche Museen zu Berlin: Führer durch die Sammlungen des Museums für Völkerkunde. Berlin 1887–1914. The guidebook names the following ships: Gazelle, Herta, Augusta, Bismarck, Elisabeth, Hyäne, and Carola. 7 See Brigitte Templin: “Oh Mensch, erkenne Dich selbst”. Richard Karutz (1867–1945) und sein Beitrag zur Ethnologie. Luebeck 2010, p. 66. See also Claudia Kalka, Lars Frühsorge, Tanja Hörmann: “Es muss einen Grund haben, weshalb die Objekte damals zu Euch gekommen sind . . . ” Koloniale Ethnographica in Sønderjylland-Schleswig und Holstein. In: Marco L. Petersen (Eds.): Sønderjylland-Schleswig und Holstein Kolonial. Odense 2018, pp. 347–360. 8 See regarding the Cologne ethnological museum Anne-Kathrin Horstmann: Koloniale Völkerkunde. In: Marianne Bechhaus-Gerst, Anne-Kathrin Horstmann (Eds.): Köln und der Deutsche Kolonialismus. Eine Spurensuche. Cologne 2013, p. 107–110; see also Burkhard Fenner: “Eine Sammelstelle für den stofflichen Kulturbesitz der fremden Völker.” Das Rautenstrauch-Joest-Museum. Ibid., pp. 131–137; Larissa Förster: Objekte aus deutschen Kolonien im Rautenstrauch-Joest-Museum. Ibid., pp. 229– 236. See regarding the Freiburg ethnological museum Markus Himmelsbach: Das städtische Museum für Natur- und Völkerkunde. In: Bernd-Stefan Grewe et al. (Eds.): Freiburg und der Kolonialismus. Vom Kaiserreich bis zum Nationalsozialismus. Freiburg i. Br. 2018, pp. 143–156. See regarding the Stuttgart ethnological museum Friedrich Kussmaul: Linden-Museum Stuttgart. Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde. Rückblick, Umschau, Ausblick. In: Tribus. Veröffentlichungen des Linden-Museums 24 (1975), pp. 17–65.

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Naturalia, or Zoologica. 9 Even missionaries collected objects and sold them to museums or used them downright for their own exhibitions, for the education of their apprentices, and as accessories at mission festivals, using outfitted missionary trunks to advertise mission work. 10 Quite a few objects were looted, were the spoils of warfare, or came into the hands of Europeans through other forms of open physical violence. 11 Indeed, Felix von Luschan, Adolph Bastian’s successor as director of the Berlin Völkerkundemuseum, particularly valued artifacts looted during raids. The ethnographer believed one could safely assume that these things were not purpose-built for Europeans. 12 Hence, in some places, Ethnographica were made for the market, as Emil Nolde reported from the South Seas. 13 In short, around 1900, Ethnographica, Zoologica, and Naturalia were shipped to Europe by the bucketload. According to current estimates, ninety percent of African cultural goods nowadays are in Europe. 14

9 For further research, see Bernhard Schär: Tropenliebe. Schweizer Naturforscher und niederländischer Imperialismus in Südostasien um 1900. Frankfurt on the Main 2015; Dietrich Schleip: Ozeanische Ethnographie und koloniale Praxis. Das Beispiel Augustin Krämer. Stuttgart 1989; Marion Melk-Koch: Auf der Suche nach der menschlichen Gesellschaft. Richard Thurnwald (Veröffentlichungen des Museums für Völkerkunde Berlin, Vol. 46). Berlin 1989. 10 Missionaries also demolished Ethnographica to destroy the powers attributed to them by the local population. On the Hamburg Museum’s purchases of the collection of Johann Flierl, a Neuendettelsau missionary, see Jeannette Kokott: Rauru, Rino, Uli und Co. Die Sammlung der Ozeanien-Abteilung im Museum für Völkerkunde Hamburg. In: Wulf Köpke, Bernd Schmelz (Eds.): Hamburg – Südsee. Expedition ins Paradies. Hamburg 2003, pp. 17–67. On mission work exhibitions see Annika Dörner: “Von einer seltsamen Missionsreise.” Die poetics und politics einer Ausstellung. In: Linda Ratschiller, Karolin Wetjen (Eds.): Verflochtene Mission. Perspektiven auf eine neue Missionsgeschichte. Cologne 2018, pp. 141–162, and Linda Ratschiller: “Die Zauberei spielt in Kamerun eine böse Rolle!” Die ethnografischen Ausstellungen der Basler Mission (1908–1912). In: Rebekka Habermas, Richard Hölzl (Eds.): Mission global. Eine Verflechtungsgeschichte seit dem 19. Jahrhundert. Cologne 2014, pp. 241– 264. 11 The so-called Benin Bronzes are the best-known of these objects. English troops brought them to London after a looting spree that was part of a so-called “punitive expedition.” For a comprehensive account of the latest research, see Staffan Lundén: Displaying Loot. The Benin Objects and the British Museum (Gotarc. Institutionen för Historiska Studier Göteborgs Universitet, Vol. 69). Gothenburg 2016. See also the contribution by Osarhieme Osadolor in this volume. 12 See Andrew Zimmerman: Anthropology and Antihumanism in Imperial Germany. Chicago 2001, esp. p. 173. 13 See Emil Nolde: Aus meinem Leben, ed. by Manfred Reuther. Cologne 2013, esp. p. 322. See also Rainer Buschmann’s publications and the survey article with further examples of the Ethnographica trade between local populations and colonial Europeans by Kalka, Frühsorge, and Hörmann (note 7). 14 See Catherine Calvet, Guillaume Lecaplain: Vers une Remise des œuvres Africaines. In: La Libération, Nov. 20, 2018, https://next.liberation.fr/arts/2018/11/20/vers-uneremiseen-etats-des-oeuvres-africaines_1693302 (retrieved Sept. 18, 2019).

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In the 20th century, more and more ethnographic museums and natural history societies began to organize their own expeditions. For example, the Hamburg Völkerkundemuseum launched a journey of exploration to the South Seas in 1908 and had dozens of researchers partake. The expedition’s stated aim was to carry out extensive anthropometric surveys and to bring back to Hamburg as many Ethnographica as possible. Certainly, the expedition had to take on supplemental colonial tasks, such as helping to sort out the so-called colonial labor question. 15 In return, the colonial administration promised the explorers that local governors would support them, i.e., provide them with police officers and soldiers that would protect them against raids by the local population. 16 These enthusiastic collectors were by no means unique to ethnology—a discipline that still lacked precise contours in this period and established its first chairs as late as the 20th century. Other disciplines were no less enthralled by all things of non-European provenance. Physicians, in particular, were strongly represented among the collectors. Not coincidental, they were interested in bones, which they brought back in large quantities. Then there were the geographers on the rise, who did not search for rocks alone but always looked out for Ethnographica to take those with them. 17 Last but not least: the archaeologists. When Kaiser Wilhelm II’s enthusiasm for Babylon became apparent, they were more than happy to start new excavations and satisfy the bourgeoisie’s passion for collecting antiquities. 18 Still, others had a clear focus on natural history. Their accumulations of butterflies, exotic birds, and especially huge animals from the African continent helped to develop and expand the collections of natural history museums that sprang up in almost all major German

15 The director of the Hamburg Museum, Georg Thilenius, wrote to Senator Mehle: “The memorandum is deliberately tailored to, among other things, the practical question of colonial labor. So far, I have only communicated it confidentially to a friend of mine, the department head for the South Seas in the Colonial Office, to obtain the Office’s cooperation in the German colonies [. . . ]. Its cooperation is absolutely indispensable for most of the tasks,” quoted from Antje Kelm: Im ersten Jahr vom Schiffe aus. Die Hamburger Südsee-Expedition in der Inselwelt von Neuguinea. In: Köpke, Schmelz (note 10), pp. 92–141, p. 98. 16 Regarding support for the Hamburg South Sea expedition via weapons and police officers, see Andreas Leipold: Das erste Jahr der Hamburger Südsee-Expedition in Deutsch-Neuguinea (1908–1909). Hamburg 2006, p. 32. 17 See Carsten Gräbel: Die Erforschung der Kolonien. Expeditionen und koloniale Wissenskultur deutscher Geographen 1884–1919. Bielefeld 2015. 18 See Rebekka Habermas, Alexandra Przyrembel (Eds.): Von Käfern, Märkten und Menschen. Kolonialismus und Wissen in der Moderne. Goettingen 2013.

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cities in the 19th and the early 20th century. 19 Shortly before the First World War, entire dinosaur skeletons found their way from German East Africa to imperial Germany. 20 Several of the prominent institutions, such as the Lübeck, Hamburg, and Bremen museums, regularly issued appeals: everyone in the population should remember to bring objects from outside Europe. 21 In short, objects of any nature were within the broad focus of the collecting activities of researchers from various disciplines and, evidently, missionaries, merchants, traders, and men of private means. The motives formulated were equally diverse when contemporaries acknowledged their agenda. They cited commercial interests, religious beliefs, academic interests, political reasons, and military purposes. And yet, one additional motive always came to the fore: The imperative to save data and objects supposedly on the wane to still learn as much as possible about the allegedly doomed primitive peoples, as Felix von Luschan put it in 1906. 22 Others made the same argument for animals that were supposedly threatened with extinction. Still, others believed they had to save entire landscapes. Especially—so the common sense—the influence of the Europeans endangered non-European cultures and threatened the wild fauna and flora; so one should “act quickly” before it was too late. 23 As early as 1887, the Berlin Museum Guide addressed the necessity to bring about “extraordinary efforts” for combatting the “rapidly increasing disappearance [. . . ] of primitive people”—namely by collecting their artifacts. 24 No expedition’s request for funding did without referencing that “rescuing” the objects was essential since the population was threatened to die out and, provided that, one would at least possess their artifacts. 25 Adolf 19 See Carsten Kretschmann: Räume öffnen sich. Naturhistorische Museen im Deutschland des 19. Jahrhunderts (Wissenskultur und gesellschaftlicher Wandel, Vol. 12). Berlin 2006. 20 See Ina Heumann et al. (Eds.): Dinosaurierfragmente. Zur Geschichte der TendaguruExpedition und ihrer Objekte, 1906–2018. Goettingen 2018. 21 See Templin (note 7), p. 62. 22 See Felix von Luschan: Anthropologie, Ethnographie und Urgeschichte. In: Georg v. Neumayer (Ed.): Anleitung zu wissenschaftlichen Beobachtungen auf Reisen in EinzelAbhandlungen, Vol. 2: Landeskunde, Statistik, Heilkunde, Landwirtschaft, Pflanzengeographie, Linguistik, Zoologie, Ethnographie. Das Mikroskop und der photographische Apparat etc. Hanover 1906, pp. 1–97, p. 3. In this publication, he recurred to English research, esp. Alfred Cort Haddon’s The Saving of Vanishing Data. In: Popular Science Monthly 62 (1903), pp. 222–229. Markedly, this premise was not a German peculiarity but shared elsewhere in Europe. 23 Luschan (note 22), p. 44. 24 Königliche Museen zu Berlin: Führer durch die Sammlungen des Museums für Völkerkunde. Berlin 1887, p. 15. 25 On the South Sea expedition of the Hamburg Völkerkundemuseum see esp. Leipold (note 16), p. 45.

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Bastian, the founder of the Berlin Völkerkundemuseum, referred to this particularly prominently and, what’s more, frankly. He is quoted as saying: “The last moment has come; the twelfth hour is here! Documents of immeasurable, irreplaceable value for human history are being destroyed. Save them! Save them before it is too late!” 26

Under his aegis, the collection of the Berlin Völkerkundemuseum grew by 10,000 pieces annually, 27 ultimately resulting in a situation around 1900 where the educational institution resembled a junk room more than a museum. 28 However, like many of his contemporaries, Adolf Bastian saw no alternative to this mass accumulation of objects. What’s more, he believed “material procurement” was his most pressing task. These objects and nothing else could provide “imprints of the people’s spirit,” he warned, while the “primitive peoples” themselves were “perishing before our eyes, every day, all around us.” 29 He deemed it imperative to collect as much as possible to draw up the “series necessary for a statistical synopsis” to arrive at conclusions about the elementary thoughts of the peoples. 30 Indeed, the rescue paradigm is older than Adolf Bastian. Already Diderot and Rousseau put the case for it. 31 However, only the last third of the 19th century saw a massive increase in the notion’s use in the context of the non-European, and only then it brought about a veritable hype of collecting. Those concerned with animals, such as scientists and activists involved in the bird protection movement, used broadly similar arguments. Around 1900, they initiated veritable campaigns against wearing the feathers of birds-of-paradise since these were allegedly threatened by extinction in

26 Karl von Steinen: Gedächtnisrede auf Adolf Bastian. In: Zeitschrift für Ethnologie 37 (1905) No. 3, pp. 236–249, p. 248, quoted from H. Glenn Penny: In Humboldt’s Shadow: A Tragic History of German Ethnology. Princeton, Oxford 2021, p. 47. 27 This was the case starting in 1884; see ibid., p. 98. 28 See ibid., p. 99; for criticism see Zimmerman (note 12). 29 Adolf Bastian: Ueber Ethnologische Sammlungen. In: Zeitschrift für Ethnologie 17 (1885), pp. 38–42, p. 40. 30 Ibid. p. 41. Particularly relevant was to ensure that these objects must not bear any traces of Europeans; they must be “primitive.” See Rainer F. Buschmann: Exploring Tensions in Material Culture. Commercializing Ethnography in German New Guinea, 1870–1904. In: Michael O’Hanlon, Robert L. Welsch (Eds.): Hunting the Gatherers. Ethnographic Collectors, Agents and Agency in Melanesia, 1870s–1930s. New York 2000, pp. 55–80, p. 57. 31 Gustav Flaubert already ironizes the idea of rescue missions in his novel Bouvard et Pécuchet (published in 1881). He refers again to the topic in his posthumously published Dictionnaire des Idées reçues (1913).

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Oceania. 32 Also worthy of mention are those former expedition participants like Augustin Krämer and Paul and Fritz Sarasin, who campaigned to establish nature reserves in non-European regions. They argued that the landscapes and the houses nestled into them were threatened with extinction. Especially Krämer pointed out that the dwellings on the Palau islands, part of the then German colony of New Guinea, displayed great “artistry in a primitive people.” 33 In his view, this “wonder world” called for preservation at all costs. At the same time, he urged that everything should be done to protect the “small community of native people living there in a magnificent land”—for the benefit of posterity, science, and art. 34 Thus, it was not only ethnologists-to-be who were on the move outside Europe, but hundreds of men and a few women with various agendas and—conforming to the firm belief all of them shared—one objective: to save Ethnographica, Naturalia, and Zoologica by shipping them to Europe. At the same time, the collecting frenzy—as contemporary commentators called it—and with it, much to the same extent, European rescue fantasies increased more and more. Focused on Europe itself, the passion for collecting stirred even earlier, in the early decades of the 19th century: For one, the Brothers Grimm collected fairy tales of all kinds and inspired a significant group of aristocrats, such as Annette von Droste-Hülshoff. And members of the bourgeoisie enthusiastically followed their example (as Karin Duve has described so vividly in a novel). 35 Then there were those who collected so-called “Altertümer” (i.e., archaic objects) and used them to establish the first local museums, which sprang up like mushrooms in almost all provincial towns, no matter how small. At the same time, Cologne citizens founded a society for the reconstruction of the city’s cathedral. 36 In all of these cases, it was a matter of saving things to preserve them. Meanwhile, what became increasingly popular was the unifying idea that collecting

32 See Bernhard Gißibl: Paradiesvögel. Kolonialer Naturschutz und die Mode der deutschen Frau am Anfang des 20. Jahrhunderts. In: Johannes Paulmann, Daniel Leese, Philippa Söldenwanger (Eds.): Ritual – Macht – Natur. Europäisch-ozeanische Beziehungswelten in der Neuzeit. Bremen 2005, p. 131–154. 33 Aug.in Krämer: Palau als Naturschutzpark. In: Deutsche Kolonialzeitung. Wochenschrift der Deutschen Kolonialgesellschaft, No. 31, March 7, 1914, pp. 159–161, p. 160. See Rebekka Habermas: Die Suche nach Ethnographica und die kunstsinnigen Kannibalen der Südsee. Oder: Was die koloniale Nostalgie im Kaiserreich mit der kolonialen Aphasie heute zu tun hat. In: Historische Zeitschrift 220 (2020), pp. 351–386. 34 Krämer (note 33), p. 160. 35 See Karin Duve: Fräulein Nettes kurzer Sommer. Berlin 2018. 36 See Christoph Dähnis: Der Karlsverein im 19. Jahrhundert. Eine Untersuchung zur Denkmalpflege im konfessionellen Konflikt am Beispiel des Münsters Karl des Großen. Master Thesis University of Goettingen 2002.

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was an act of rescuing and that it was urgently necessary since, otherwise, the loss of some of Europe’s treasured cultural properties like songs and fairy tales or even entire buildings was imminent. Susan Crane presents this fascinating trend in detail in her exceptional work on the formation of historical consciousness in the 19th century. 37 At the beginning of the century, it was a modest number of groups of people who, besides the Grimm brothers, became enthusiastic about collecting; in the last third of the 19th century, the trend evolved into a movement. Indeed, collecting came into vogue among the nobility and, still more, among the middle classes. Sigmund Freud, for example, continually expanded his collection of antiquities, which comprised more than 2,000 objects. And he did not refrain from loot originating from illegal excavations by which day laborers in Hungary and many other world regions earned extra money. 38 While antiquities had a strong fascination for some collectors, others were fond of butterflies or interested in the legacy of their Germanic ancestors. However, all of them shared one notion: in the German Empire as such, that is, in Europe, essential things were in danger of getting lost irretrievably. 39 These nostalgic feelings resulted in people committing themselves to the supposedly endangered avifauna and beyond Papua New Guinea’s birds-of-paradise to the local bird species. Hence, the German Society for the Protection of Birdlife, founded in the mid-1870s, aimed at establishing legal protection for birds. 40 Others supported a movement for the preservation of the countryside, the so-called Heimatschutzbewegung. The involved members believed the German landscape was in peril, particularly because the industrialization process would blight the scenery. Thus, the preamble of the 1904-founded Deutscher Bund Heimatschutz stated that the association’s central task was the protection of the uniqueness of the endangered German homeland 41 and the “rescue of the native flora and fauna, [. . . ] the customs and traditions and festivals and traditional costumes.” 42 The founding father 37 See Susan A. Crane: Collecting and Historical Consciousness in Early Nineteenth Century Germany. Cornell 2000. 38 See Lothar Müller: Freuds Dinge. Der Diwan, die Apollokerzen und die Seele im technischen Zeitalter. Berlin 2019, p. 192. 39 See Eva Barlösius: Naturgemäße Lebensführung. Zur Geschichte der Lebensreform um die Jahrhundertwende. Frankfurt on the Main 1997; see also Wolfgang R. Krabbe: Gesellschaftsveränderung durch Lebensreform. Bewegung im Deutschland der Industrialisierungsperiode. Goettingen 1974. 40 See Friedemann Schmoll: Erinnerung an die Natur. Die Geschichte des Naturschutzes im deutschen Kaiserreich. Frankfurt / Main 2004, p. 264. 41 See Alon Confino: The Nation as a Local Metaphor. Württemberg, Imperial Germany, and National Memory, 1871–1918. Chapel Hill 1997, p. 130. 42 Schmoll (note 40), p. 401, quoted from the association’s statutes adopted in 1904, § 1.

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Ernst Rudorff, a Berlin piano professor, owned a rural estate not far from Hanover, and the changes in the province sparked his criticism. The regional landscape seemed to disintegrate from raw countryside to a modernistic-engineered expanse of land organized according to functional grids. Campaigners like Rudorff perceived land consolidation and the mechanization of agriculture as a loss. In their view, the emerging industrial districts were the nemesis of German cultural landscapes. 43 Nature conservation groups are another phenomenon that is worth mentioning in this context. For instance, the Association for the Rescue of the Siebengebirge, a hill range on the east bank of the Middle Rhine, was founded as early as the 1880s. Still, others dedicated their time to collecting so-called folk-art objects—old household utensils and objects of everyday use—that seemed prone to vanish and gathered them under one roof in local (history) museums, called Heimatmuseum (i.e., literally homeland museum). 44 The years between 1890 and 1918 saw the founding of three hundred seventyone local history museums. These museums’ collections comprised the broadest range of objects meeting two criteria: They had to be as old as possible and as evidently as possible from the working fields of the lower segment of society. Typically, one found pitchforks, sauerkraut barrels, shoemaking tools, half-broken jugs, and old beds among the pieces. 45 In many places, the museums, although municipal institutions, did without implementing any separation between collectibles of extra- and intraEuropean origin. In Lübeck, for example, the ethnological collection contained objects from the Basque country, northern Europe, and Lübeck’s immediate surroundings. It was key that all of them came from the “old European primitive culture”—as Richard Karutz put it. 46 In 1889, Rudolf Virchow founded the Museum für deutsche Volkstrachten und Erzeugnisse des Hausgewerbes (i.e., museum for German folk costumes and products of the cottage industry). Here, too, the focus was on objects as old as possible and prone to be lost soon. 47 Among artists such as Gabriele Münter, it was also on-trend to collect so-called folk art, for instance, votive or reverse glass paintings and peasant furniture. The objects were interpreted as manifestations of a culture critically endangered by increasing urbanization.

43 See ibid., p. 393. 44 See Confino (note 41) and Gerhard Kratzsch: Kunstwart und Dürerbund. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Gebildeten im Zeitalter des Imperialismus. Goettingen 1969, p. 215. 45 See Confino (note 41), p. 134. 46 Quoted from Templin (note 7), p. 72. 47 See Confino (note 41), p. 137.

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Besides, over one hundred and thirty reverse glass paintings classified as folk art constituted Münter’s collection. 48 In short, first of all, the idea of rescue and preservation had gained broad approval—far beyond ethnology’s boundaries in many disciplines and among large sections of the population, especially in the middle classes. Secondly, from the very beginning, the idea of saving bridged the gulf between all things European and non-European. Each and every single thing that was collected and saved, whether from inside or outside Europe, had some bearing on a supposedly perishing culture or an endangered environment, and the collectors claimed to be able to save them. They focused on Ethnographica, Naturalia, and Zoologica. The objective was to identify supposedly endangered birds, may they live nearby or in Oceania, or entire landscapes, may one find them on the Palau Islands or in the Siebengebirge, and put them under protection or house them in newly built museums. However, there were both parallels between collecting in Europe and outside of Europe and decisive differences: Violence was the rule outside but not inside Europe. Inside Europe, the collected things usually remained in the respective region; the storing sites of objects originating from outside of Europe were thousands of kilometers away. Inside Europe, the collectors acted within their own society, which, admittedly, seemed to become more and more alien to them, while outside Europe, their undertakings were to collect in foreign societies. Notwithstanding these apparent differences, the similarities between intra- and extra-European collecting leap to the eye. Equally striking is the fact that collecting was widespread in the society of the German Empire (and all other European nations at the turn of the century). Collecting (at least regarding the middle classes) was a mass phenomenon of the time. Hence, we find millions of objects stored in various types of museums down to the present day. If one understands this form of collecting as a social phenomenon and no longer as a peculiarity of a single scientific discipline or a few particularly colonial-oriented and adventurous people, at least two questions arise: Why did people spare no financial and logistical burden and made no effort to refrain from violence—in indirect or direct form—while bringing more and more objects to Europe, when depots were already in short supply anywhere, and third parties including many more intermediaries than representatives from the populations of Africa, Asia, and, Oceania voiced concerns even at that time, bemoaning the illegitimacy and the devastating consequences the emptying of entire

48 See Isabelle Jansen, Matthias Mühling (Eds.): Gabriele Münter 1877–1962. Malen ohne Umschweife. Ausstellungskatalog. Munich 2017, p. 138.

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swaths of land threatened to have? 49 Why did people believe that they had to save everything possible, from pitchforks to animals to entire landscapes, even in Europe, by collecting?

3 The Crisis of Modernity around 1900 and a Kind of Federal Nationalism One reason for this collecting mania is what is called the crisis of modernity. By the end of the 19th century, the sentiment gripped, in particular, the middle classes. For instance, they lamented the “spoiling of the mountain sceneries by the rail network’s sprawl.” 50 They bemoaned the loss concomitant with industrialization: to live life leisurely and feel part of the community. Or they claimed, as Georg Simmel put it, that one could observe how the increasing urbanization and rampant automation of the modern consumer world lead downright to a confusion of the senses. Others wailed over the emergence of new diseases due to those rapid changes. Modern department stores supposedly produced female kleptomania, while the nervous disease neurasthenia was reputedly rampant, particularly among men. 51 In the debate about the so-called trash literature (culminating in the Lex Heinze, a law adopted 1900), people complained about the decay of morals and manners that one could see everywhere, especially in the metropolises. There was also widespread discussion of the dangers and losses that accompanied the process of urbanization. The vegetarian and naturopath Adolf Just summarized the criticism as follows: “Big-city life corrupts body, mind, and soul since it leads more and more away from nature and all sorts of natural conditions.” 52

49 Certainly, the perception that facilitated this mass transfer of objects was the common sense regarding all things colonial prevailing in Europe. The foundation of this contemporary notion was the belief in “racial” differences from which one could derive different rights and abilities. Due to this basic attitude, the colonial territories, home to supposedly “inferior races,” were defined as spaces outside the scope of European notions of law and property—a central point when it came to the seizure of objects. In the colonial territories, neither applied: the Hague Convention (guaranteeing protection against looting in the event of war) nor the modern constitutional order just forming in Germany and aiming at guaranteed equality before the law, uniformity of law, and the principle of nulla poena sine lege (i.e., Latin for “no penalty without law”). See also the contribution by Sheila Heidt to this volume. 50 Quoted from Kratzsch (note 44), p. 211. 51 Regarding the phenomenon of female kleptomania see Christina Templin: Von der Begierde hingerissen. Weibliche und männliche Kleptomanie im wissenschaftlichen Diskurs um 1900. Master Thesis University of Goettingen 2008. Regarding neurasthenia and the crisis of masculinity see Joachim Radkau: Das Zeitalter der Nervosität. Deutschland zwischen Bismarck und Hitler. Darmstadt 1998. 52 Quoted from Krabbe (note 39), p. 14.

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Closely related to this was a tenor of cultural pessimism one could find evidence of on many levels around 1900. For example, no other than Adolf Just posed the question: “By what has come, in large part, the misery and mendacity of mankind?” And answered it as follows: “By dint of the development of the mind in its sciences, by dint of inventions and technics, which to a great extent transferred physical labor to machines and thereby produced correspondingly on all levels the mechanization of life.” 53

One could endlessly enumerate examples of these and similar debates that stirred minds around 1900. 54 Besides, the wide range of crisis symptoms corresponded with the lengthy list of propositions on how best to deal with those indications. One response to the perceived crisis of modernity was the live reform movement. The term live reform emerged in the 1890s and postulated a return to a natural way of life that would free cultural mankind from the supposedly pervasive damage of civilization. Another result was the trend to establish local history museums, the Heimatmuseen, the formation of the Heimatschutzbewegung (i.e., literally homeland protection movement), and the founding of nature and animal protection associations. All these projects had one objective: to preserve what seemed to be in danger of being lost. Anthropologist Renato Rosaldo used the term “imperialist nostalgia” to describe the feeling Europeans in the non-European regions turned to when seeking salvation from these crisis-like emotional states. He noted that many colonial officers, missionaries, and even anthropologists of the British Empire complained about one trend: the cultures they were trying to regulate, missionize, or explore were disappearing or at least undergoing enormous changes. The Europeans had hoped to find singularity and traditionality and faced the fact that both had already disappeared or were in the process of disappearing. 55 And therefore, as widespread conviction had it as well, it was the task of all humankind to collect objects of the non-European peoples. Felix von Luschan believed collecting was the core purpose of ethnology since these ethnic groups were doomed to extinction and could only be saved indirectly via their material culture. Once these objects would have arrived at the safe depositories of European

53 Ibid., pp. 14 sq. 54 Paradigmatically, this feeling of loss is evident in the large bourgeoisie-borne social movements, such as the life reform or the youth movement. 55 These laments are not without contradictions, after all, they are characterized by the fact that the “agents of colonialism long for the very forms of life they intentionally altered or destroyed.” Renato Rosaldo: Imperialist Nostalgia. In: Representations 26 (1989) (Special Issue. Memory and Counter Memory), pp. 107–122, p. 107.

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museums, one could begin with the actual research. 56 Accordingly, Adolf Bastian, the first director of the Berlin Ethnological Museum, claimed by no other means than by saving material objects one could try to preserve something essential that would carry on the memory of this vanishing part of humanity. If we apply Rosaldo’s approach to the collecting activities observed within Europe, it becomes apparent that around 1900, there were indeed corresponding varied and widespread practices. The contemporaries hoped to be able to save objects as mementos of their own perishing past, and, notably, they approached the foreign past likewise. “The changes that [the contemporaries] thought to observe day by day in their own country could not be stopped, let alone reversed. What [they] wanted to try, however, was to preserve at least the material traces of all that seemed to be lost forever, be it landscapes, old roof forms, or even just the tools that had become superfluous due to the mechanization of agriculture.” 57

Thus, around 1900, rescuing via collecting was an emotionally charged phenomenon that was not limited to non-European countries. It emerged against the backdrop of what contemporaries had already called the crisis of modernity. However, this also means that its occurrence is closely linked to European modernity itself. Indeed, one may consider mass collecting and the associated attempt at rescuing a phenomenon that reads as a specific sign of European modernity. This collecting mania, however, points to another phenomenon closely linked to the manifestation of European modernity: the emergence of nation-states. The collecting hype observable in the period of the German Empire impressively visualizes the nexus. The trend gained considerable momentum due to international competition and the fact that each nation had to prove its national superiority. As numerous works from the field of museum studies lend weight to, museums were perfect for a purpose like this. Not alone the Berlin Museum Island but also the Louvre and the British Museum were large-scale projects, as were the Germanisches Nationalmuseum (i.e., Germanic National Museum) in Nuremberg, founded in 1852, and the Nordiska Museet in Stockholm, which opened in 1873. All of these institutions share a key priority: the display of national superiority. The symbolic significance of these genuinely bourgeois institutions was immense, and the museums’ specifically stately architecture reflects their 56 See Maria Six-Hohenbalken: Felix von Luschans Beiträge zur Ethnologie. Zwischen imperialem Liberalismus und den Anfängen des Sozialdarwinismus. In: Peter Ruggendorfer, Hubert D. Szemethy (Eds.): Felix von Luschan (1854–1924). Leben und Wirken eines Universalgelehrten. Vienna 2009, pp. 165–193. 57 Habermas (note 33).

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relevance to this day. 58 The museums played a central role in nationality formation by providing the imagery necessary to make a nation sufficiently imaginable. Invariably, the principal challenge was which nation could call larger numbers of higher ranked objects its own. For one, the kerfuffle that broke out between European countries over the question of who had the largest dinosaur on display exemplifies the phenomenon. The disputes between Germany and England over the Benin bronzes, for another, demonstrate the national importance of such exhibits in like manner. 59 Only a few months after the bronze and ivory objects were looted from the royal court in Benin and brought to London in 1897, German museum directors bought more and more loot from London auction houses. 60 Subsequently, leading English researchers such as Henry Ling Roth complained vociferously that the Germans had taken the best pieces and that the English research came away empty-handed. 61 That such international struggles fueled the collecting hype and, at the same time, strengthened the formation of national identities is obvious. Less well known is the point Wolfgang Lustig, Rainer Buschmann, and Glenn Penny have made: First, the just-forming nations were competing for the leading positions in the ranking of European states—by outdoing one another via objects. However, in Germany, the respective federal states were fighting on top of that for their importance in the German Empire, a new and encompassing entity with its unity just beginning to emerge. In this period, the competition between the dozens of German ethnological museums in the former Free and Imperial Cities, the duchies and grand duchies, and kingdoms was enormous. It took the collecting frenzy to new heights. Numerous former residential and Hansa cities and all the more selfconfident university towns and mercantile cities believed they had to have their own ethnological museum. Each federal state and many formerly free cities still wanted to assert an entire identity of their own—as a former kingdom, duchy, or independent Hansa city. The result was a race for

58 See the classic essay by Tony Bennett: The Exhibitionary Complex. In: New Formations 4 (1988) No 1, pp. 73–102, p. 99. Bennett emphasizes the function museums had in the formation of national identities. “Museums [. . . ] located at the center of cities [. . . ] sought [. . . ] to incorporate the people within the process of state.” See additionally the overview by Anke te Heesen: Theorien des Museums. Zur Einführung. Hamburg 3rd ed. 2015. 59 See Heumann (note 20). 60 See Barbara Plankensteiner: Die “Benin-Angelegenheit” und ihre Folgen. In: Barbara Plankensteiner (Ed.): Benin, Könige und Rituale. Höfische Kunst aus Nigeria. Antwerp 2007, pp. 199–212. 61 Ibid. p. 208.

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the best Ethnographica, Naturalia, and Zoologica. 62 Indeed, unlike France, England, and Belgium, which had just one major museum in the respective capital that sought to collect non-European objects, Germany featured at least seven museums—and they competed for the collectibles, thereby boosting the collecting hype. Berlin repeatedly tried to enforce a resolution of the German Empire’s Federal Council. The implementation should have involved that, without exception, all colonial officials and government representatives had to bring their Ethnographica to the capital. 63 Berlin undoubtedly had the leading edge; however, Dresden, Hamburg, Leipzig, Munich, Stuttgart, and Bremen each created incentive systems to obtain objects. They dispensed medals galore and awarded travelers like Augustin Krämer. Indeed, Rainer Buschmann speaks of a veritable wave of decorations. 64 Bremen, Hamburg, and Lübeck refrained from awarding medals but initiated other incentives and, for their part, promoted the collecting hype as well. 65 Even today, one can assume that Germany houses more objects from outside Europe than the major colonial powers England and France. According to current estimates, more than 500,000 Ethnographica are stored in Berlin, while in Paris, at least as far as sub-Saharan Africa is concerned, there are only 80,000. 66 Thus, examples include the emerging commercial and industrial city of Leipzig and the symbolic and historical center of the Kingdom of Saxony, Dresden, which had to fight for its regional identity in the forming nationstate of Germany. It was at least as crucial for the former as for the latter to equip the respective municipal ethnological museum with as many Ethnographica as possible and likewise the natural history museum with 62 See H. Glenn Penny: Municipal Displays. Civic Self-Promotion and the Development of German Ethnographic Museums. In: Social Anthropology 6 (1998), pp. 157–168; Idem: Fashioning Local Identities in an Age of Nation-Buildings. Museums, Cosmopolitan Visions and Intra-German Competition. In: German History 17 (1999) No. 4, pp. 488– 504; see Rainer F. Buschmann: Anthropology’s Global Histories. The Ethnographic Frontier in German New Guinea 1870–1935. Honolulu 2009; see also Wolfgang Lustig: “Außer ein paar zerbrochenen Pfeilen ist nichts zu verteilen . . . ” Ethnographische Sammlungen aus den Kolonien und ihre Verteilungen an Museen 1889 bis 1914. In: Mitteilungen aus dem Museum für Völkerkunde Hamburg 18 (1988), pp. 157–178. 63 Since 1889, there had been a regulation by the Federal Council in force that all official expeditions had to offer their objects to the Berlin museums first. From 1892 on, the rule applied to colonial officials and was extended to the Schutztruppe (i.e., the colonial troops in the African territories of the German empire) from 1896 onward; on this, see Buschmann (note 62), p. 25. 64 See Rainer F. Buschmann: Oceanic Collections in German Museums. Collections, Contexts, and Exhibits. In: Lucie Carreau et al. (Eds.): Pacific Presences, Vol. 1: Oceanic Arts and European Museums. Leiden 2018, pp. 197–228, esp. pp. 205–208. 65 See ibid., p. 208. 66 See Felwine Sarr, Bénédicte Savoy: The Restitution of African Cultural Heritage. Toward a New Relational Ethics. Paris 2018.

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Naturalia. 67 Munich, the center of the former kingdom Bavaria, could no more afford to lag behind Cologne, the emerging industrial city, than Hamburg, which saw itself as the central German Hansa city and in direct competition with Berlin, the capital of the German Empire. Due to these competitive dynamics, all of Felix von Luschan’s efforts to concentrate the collectibles in Berlin failed to achieve lasting success. 68 Last but not least, Lübeck couldn’t have it that its treasury took second place to the Kiel University Collection. Glenn Penny cites “identity politics of civic self-promotion” as the driving motive of this competition. 69 Indeed, the European collecting hype was also about “identity politics”—on a national and international level. This phenomenon brings to light the German specificity Dieter Langewiesche labeled “federal nationalism.” 70 “Federal nationalism is not [. . . ] directed against the nation-state that overcomes the historically developed diversity of the lower-ranking states by mediatizing the individual states into one country. On the contrary, federal nationalism, henceforth culturally defending regional and individual state traditions, contributed significantly to German society’s broad and rapid acceptance of the new nation-state. To take a stand as a federalist or regionalist meant to ease into [identifying with] the nation-state.” 71

In other words, in the field of identity politics, efforts on the international and national levels went hand in hand in the German case. In the process, they fueled the collecting hype as much as they served the formation of a federal nationalism. These efforts incited acquiring, stealing, and looting in non-European regions—inclinations that became part of the seemingly crisis-ridden modernity. Inextricably linked with the phenomena: the new modern nation-state that was supposed to replace former state structures. Eventually, this connection points to the fact that, from the very beginning, the artifacts were essential for identity formation processes—regarding national, local, or, in other ways, partial identities—in the respective region. 72 67 Paradigmatic the “fight” over the dinosaurs; see Heumann (note 20). 68 According to Rainer F. Buschmann, almost every collector or explorer had prospects of a medal in this elaborate system of decorations; that incentive scheme had a significant part in the funneling of objects into the local institutions. 69 Penny (note 62), p. 159. 70 Dieter Langewiesche: Föderativer Nationalismus als Erbe der deutschen Reichsnation. Über Föderalismus und Zentralismus in der deutschen Nationalgeschichte. In: Dieter Langewiesche, Georg Schmidt (Eds.): Föderative Nation. Deutschlandkonzepte von der Reformation bis zum Ersten Weltkrieg. Munich 2000, pp. 215–243. 71 Ibid. p. 241. 72 Alon Confino put it as follows: Around 1900, the “Germans experienced the unlimited expansion of time and space, they invented the ‘old Heimat’ as a secure and eternal space [. . . ].” Confino (note 41), p. 125.

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4 On Current Debates Let’s consider it a given that the initial question is no longer unanswered as to why one finds so many dead animals, dried plants, and Ethnographica stored in German museums. Next, I want to ask why it is precisely that, for some years now, this fact has been the subject of such vehement objection in Europe. The question leads us to the current debates on restitution. The debaters have conducted this dispute with great vigor for some time, especially in Germany and in a rather similar manner in France, Belgium, the Netherlands, and some other European countries. 73 Considering the background—the long history of the rescue paradigm and preservation fetishism, besides, a history that is closely interwoven with central identity discourses in European history –, one may wonder why, all at once, questions pop up about the restitution of things that previously were believed to be rescued to a safe haven. Exactly, a curator from Tanzania recently asked me: “Why is it suddenly always about restitution?” She found this development astounding. After all, for decades, no one in Europe reacted when repatriation issues were brought to the table, she said. Now, however, words fail her when she looks at the growing number of invitations to events on the subject of looted art arriving from Germany in her mail inbox folder. The simple answer is obvious: Emmanuel Macron gave a speech in Ouagadougou in 2017. Restituting cultural assets was one of his topics; on a side note, his major issue was a new French Africa policy that would seek to regain French dominance in West Africa while threatened by global players like China. When discussions zeroed in on the Humboldt Forum, a second popular reference, the debates gained further momentum. The contribution of these two highly charged incidents is not an occurrence easily dismissed. However, I argue that there are fundamental, structural reasons for these debates. My main argument is that the idea of a genuinely European mission to save and preserve, closely linked to the European self-image, has become fragile. At the same time, the presupposition bordering on hubris—that we as Europeans have the power

73 The origins of the debate date further back, and the dispute has been going on elsewhere for some time. For the U.S., the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) was a milestone. First nations can reclaim human remains and certain so-called sacred objects. At a similar turning point in New Zealand and Australia, a new policy adopted comparable rules, particularly regarding human remains. However, while underway for several decades, these legislative changes and facilitative discussions regarding repatriation in America, Australia, Africa, and Oceania have not resonated with the European public. The interested public in Europe did not meet these debates with a broad response until recent years.

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to save—is deteriorating. What’s more, the inhuman notions that things are more important than people and that therefore use of violence against women and men who do not voluntarily hand over things have become questionable. In short, the idea of a continent that, precisely because it is modern, must save and preserve all that is seemingly old and primitive has lost a great deal of plausibility. It is this loss of plausibility and, thus, legitimacy pertaining to the rescue fantasies and the accompanying preservation fetishism that forms the background for the current restitution debates. The discussions’ dynamics are both an expression and a catalyst of this fragility. In the end, there is more under debate than a few dead animals, Naturalia, and Ethnographica; the discussions about restitution put the core components of the European self-image up to debate, a self-image that took shape around 1900 by utilizing, inter alia, precisely these things. And it was neither Macron nor any German cultural bureaucrat who set this process in motion. The activists from the former colonies made us aware of the numerous colonial traces, especially in the European metropolises, and demanded a confrontation with the colonial thought structures in European self-designs. 74 Thanks to them and researchers from postcolonial studies, which have been questioning European selfunderstandings for several decades now, rescue fantasies and preservation fetishisms appear in a different light. Since Renato Rosaldo unmasked the attitude as “imperialist nostalgia,” it has become obsolete at the latest to pretend one could put forth both: save things from change and actively, violently pursue the destruction of the societies to which these things belong. The insight has gained acceptance, at least in cultural studies, that there are always culturally different times, which are admittedly interwoven and never merely perish or survive. James Clifford stated as early as 1987: The times “always undergo the impact of disruptive changes associated with the influence of trade, media, missionaries, commodities, ethnographers, tourists, the exotic art market,” and the likes. 75 Last but not least, museum debates conducted in the countries of the source communities contributed a significant point. At one of the many speedily summoned cooperation meetings between German and African

74 See for an overview Rebekka Habermas: Restitutionsdebatten, koloniale Aphasie und die Frage, was Europa ausmacht. In: Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte, Sept. 2019, pp. 17– 22. 75 James Clifford: Of Other People. Beyond the ‘Salvage Paradigm’. In: Hal Forster (Eds.): Dia Art Foundation. Discussions in Contemporary Culture. Seattle 1987, pp. 121– 141, p. 122.

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museum experts, Flower Manase recently summed it up so aptly with regard to Germany: “You have the objects, we have the knowledge.” 76 Yet, as untenable as the rescue paradigm and preservation fetishism has become among activists, many ethnologists, and many others who deal professionally with identity issues, the sentiments still have not vanished. A great deal of the underlying trends that contributed to the formation of European national identities and helped to formulate a European idea of modernity at the turn of the last century nowadays play a role again in how Europe defines itself. Moreover, it’s no surprise that some believe they need to defend such European self-designs with verve right now—in a situation when the German society is facing renewed challenges, now in the guise of globalization or in the form of a stream of refugees. Undoubtedly, we cannot meet these challenges—and at this point, we must be deeply grateful to the representatives and activists from the societies of origin for their interventions—utilizing dead animals, dried plants, and masks from outside Europe.

76 Flower Manase, verbal contribution at a project meeting of PAESE (Provenienzforschung in außereuropäischen Sammlungen und der Ethnologie in Niedersachsen, i.e., Provenance Research in Non-European Collections and Ethnology in Lower Saxony) in Hanover on Sept. 13/14, 2019. See also her contribution to this volume.

Hermann Parzinger

Shared Heritage as an Opportunity Coming to Terms with the Colonial Past Means More than Restitution Alone

For some years, there has been an intense debate about properly handling cultural assets from colonial contexts. In this debate, the Berlin Humboldt Forum is both: a target for psychological projection and a catalyst for the controversy. 1 However, the dispute is not just about the newly reconstructed palace or Germany’s comparatively short but no less violent colonial past; there has long been a European dimension to it. French President Emmanuel Macron dropped quite the bombshell in his Ouagadougou speech in November 2017 by announcing a return of African cultural assets for the first time—and triggered an overwhelming response in the major newspapers’ feature sections. 2 But what would happen next in France? Bénédicte Savoy and Felwine Sarr reveal their call on the French government a maximum demand when choosing the title “The Restitution of African Cultural Heritage” for the report they prepared on Macron’s behalf. 3 1 This essay is the revised version of the contribution by Hermann Parzinger: “Shared Heritage.” Das Humboldt-Forum und die Kolonialismusdebatte. In: Die Politische Meinung. Zeitschrift der Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung, Apr. 1, 2020, https://www.kas.de/ de/web/die-politische-meinung/artikel/detail/-/content/shared-heritage (retrieved May 6, 2020). This manuscript’s date of completion was in Oct. 2019. See additionally Hermann Parzinger: Von Chancen und Herausforderungen. Das Humboldt Forum im Berliner Schloss. In: Politik & Kultur. Zeitung des Deutschen Kulturrats 5 (2016), p. 7. The author couldn’t consider more recent developments. In 2022 this English version of the 2019 paper thus needed some significant completions here added, esp. concerning cooperation with and returns to Tanzania, Namibia, and Nigeria (Benin bronzes). 2 See Martina Meister: Raubkunst. Es ist der Anfang von Macrons Kulturrevolution. In: Welt, Dec. 4, 2018. 3 Felwine Sarr, Bénédicte Savoy: Rapport sur la restitution du patrimoine culturel africain. Vers une nouvelle éthique relationnelle. Paris 2018, http://restitution report2018.com (retrieved Nov. 26, 2018).

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In principle, according to Savoy and Sarr, all cultural assets from Africa should be returned, albeit in several stages. They term it utterly irrelevant whether the pieces came from colonial troops’ punitive expeditions, collectors had acquired them by purchase, or researchers had gathered them during their journeys. Savoy and Sarr claim that dealings between unequal partners could hardly have been fair, which is why such transactions are to be considered contexts of injustice per se. The authors don’t deem provenance research or object biographies based on scientific evidence a significant contribution. And they believe museums fall back on such practices to play for time, but ipso facto perpetuate an already proven state of injustice. As of now, French museums should compile comprehensive lists of the objects originating from Africa and forward them to the respective states. The latter would then decide on each piece if they wanted to have it back or leave it on loan in French museums for the future. In the event of a return, the museums could make do with copies or 3D reproductions. Initially, the French paper prompted mixed reactions in Germany. Adherents of postcolonial paradigms called the initiative a turning point, a decision of global significance from which there was now no turning back. Others, however, criticized the paper’s postcolonial jargon dominated by an ideology of atonement and penance that wouldn’t do justice to the issue’s complexity. 4 The then president of the Goethe-Institut, KlausDieter Lehmann, labeled the paper even a call for a kind of secular “selling of indulgences” to quickly wash away colonial guilt and designated such a move no suitable path into the future. In recent months, disillusionment has outpaced the initial euphoria. In an interview with the weekly Zeit in July 2019, Felwine Sarr pointed out that almost nothing had happened still and attested to the German debate that it was one of the most progressive ones in Europe. 5 Therefore, we feel encouraged in our strategy to prioritize thorough provenance research and collaborate with various partners and non-state actors from the countries of origin. Unquestionably, the study of the collections cannot succeed without significant support from the societies of origin. Yet, for some time, close and trusting cooperation with representatives from numerous 4 See Frank Werner, Markus Flohr: “Sie sehen in allem nur Ausbeutung.” Hermann Parzinger, Präsident der Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz, und der Hamburger Historiker Jürgen Zimmerer streiten über das Konzept des neuen Humboldt Forums, die Benin Bronzen und den Kolonialismus. In: Zeit, June 24, 2019, p. 94. 5 See Werner Bloch: “Geschehen ist fast nichts”. Der französische Präsident wollte seinen Rat, wie er mit kolonialer Raumkunst umgehen soll – und schlägt ihn jetzt in den Wind. Der senegalesische Ökonom Felwine Sarr über die Arroganz der Europäer und die große Chance der Restitutionsdebatte. In: Zeit, July 25, 2019, p. 34.

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Fig. 1: Álvaro Jorge, director of the Museu Nacional de Antropologia in Luanda, Angola, shows Ziva Domingos, Hermann Parzinger, and Norbert Spitz the museum’s modern depot. © SPK/Stefan Müchler

countries of origin has been part of daily business for the Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz (i.e., Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation) and its National Museums in Berlin. 6 Currently, we have various projects working cooperatively in provenance research, and joint projects for the design of exhibition areas in the Humboldt Forum are underway. In any case, we jointly plan and implement such projects with the countries of origin; we deliberately focus on the needs articulated in the countries of origin. We feel that we must orient to our partners in Africa, Asia, or Oceania—and not the other way around. They are well aware of the true complexity of the issue. They, too, want to know the stories behind the objects, a remark that we constantly hear in joint discussions. Indeed, when it comes to deciphering these stories, good practice means teamwork. Moreover, it is well known that ethnological collections feature works of art and objects of religious-spiritual significance but include, to a large extent, also everyday objects or items produced explicitly for the European collector market. In quests that involve either-or fallacies, history rarely provides plain answers. 6 See Susanne Messmer: Ein Glücksfall für das Humboldt Forum. Ende kommenden Jahres will das Humboldt Forum 60 Objekte von Omaha ausstellen, die in den 1890erJahren nach Berlin kamen. In: taz, June 5, 2019, p. 22.

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Cooperative research may provide a reliable basis so that we can jointly develop ways to determine which objects should be on the short-list for return—because they were unlawfully seized or have significant nonmaterial value for the respective society. Such a modus operandi would add to the favorable development of the already strong relationships between Europeans and people of the communities of origin. While many things seem possible, joint decisions on how to deal with cultural assets do not happen overnight; it takes time for the necessary trust to develop. The pilot project “Tanzania—Germany: Shared Object Histories?” has been running at the Ethnological Museum since June 2016. The project aims at developing a framework for researching the provenance of problematic collections, especially those collected during the colonial era. The desire in Wilhelmine Germany for a “place in the sun,” a well-known colonial saying, had severe consequences for the people living in German South West Africa (present-day Namibia) and eastern Africa. 7 The German colonization of Tanzania met with broader opposition and saw more bloody suppression than is generally known. In 1888, the German East Africa Company’s (Deutsch-Ostafrikanische Gesellschaft, DOAG) mere attempt to occupy the trading towns on the coast met with resistance from the local elite and parts of the population. Subsequently, the then newly appointed Reichskommissar (i.e., Imperial Commissioner), Herrmann von Wissmann, brutally put down any hindrances. However, the resistance movements against foreign political and economic influence continued. Between 1905 and 1907, large sections of the societies living in the southern half of German East Africa rebelled against the representatives of the colonial order. During this time of social and economic crises, a prophetic movement gained importance that promised protection and invulnerability through a particular medicine (maji = “water”). The term became eponymous for the uprising; hundreds of thousands fell victim to this so-called Maji Maji Rebellion. The Germans, supported by Askari and other auxiliary troops, waged war brutally. Plus, they adhered to the principle of scorched earth. The consequence of destructed villages and fields and the resulting deprivation of any livelihood in the region was an exorbitantly high mortality rate. Today, the Tanzania collection of the Berlin Ethnological Museum comprises around 10,000 objects; however, quite a few of these items are inseparably linked to the tyranny of that time. We, the Stiftung Preußischer

7 See Hermann Parzinger: Der vergessene Krieg der Deutschen. Maji-Maji-Aufstand in Tansania. In: Spiegel Online, Febr. 2, 2017, http://www.spiegel.de/kultur/gesellschaft/ tansania-der-vergessene-krieg-maji-maji-aufstand-a-1136360.html (retrieved Oct. 14, 2019).

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Fig. 2: Event on Humboldt Lab Tanzania in Berlin Dahlem. © SPK/photothek.net / Florian Gaertner

Kulturbesitz, are well aware of this fact and therefore face up to our responsibility. While we were preparing to move the collections from Dahlem to the Humboldt Forum, we felt obliged to start conducting diligent provenance research. What’s more, we have proactively contacted the relevant political and cultural institutions in Tanzania. The reappraisal of this history takes shape in joint efforts with scholars from Tanzania, and curators from Tanzania are in charge of facilitating the possibility that we may tell the story at the Humboldt Forum. I was deeply impressed by the open dialogue and the various discussions held in Dar es Salaam. Representatives of the Dar es Salaam National Museum and House of Culture, the University and the Tanzanian Ministry of Culture contributed, and we all had in common one desire: to come to terms with these dark years. Even though there is still a long road ahead of us and carrying on might be arduous sometimes, for the Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz, there is no alternative. When we consider our ethnological collections originating from almost all regions of the world, we cannot and do not want to hide the collections’ problematic parts; au contraire, we want to be up-front about this share. We aim for profound, longterm cooperation based on partnership. Restitution is only one part of this collaboration, though certainly an important one. A large part of the Ethnological Museum’s holdings did not come from former German colonies; systematically acquired and purchased

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items originate from all over the world, and others were gathered during research journeys. However, there is no doubt that objects connected to various wars and hostilities also came to the then Königliches Museum für Völkerkunde (i.e., literally Royal Museum for the Sciences of Peoples, the former German term for ethnology). Some of them fell into oblivion. Targeted research into the provenance of the East Africa collection “rediscovered” a few: 32 objects, including rifle bullets, a powder horn, a bag with medicine, and a ruler’s drum. In the process, researchers have them identified as evidently related to the Maji Maji Rebellion. That is to say; they are of high symbolic significance for the people living at the site. Apart from that, it is time to bring this forgotten war back into people’s consciousness here in Germany. Museums are ideal places for implementing such a project—when millions of people visit exhibitions confronting them with those problematic parts of their history that most national curriculums ignore so far, for example. Therefore, we decided to tell the story of the Maji Maji war from the Tanzanian perspective in the Humboldt Forum. In an exhibition we developed together with curators from Tanzania, we display the objects mentioned above and reveal their context to illustrate the narrative. The property of these objects obviously deriving from a context of violence, however, is already transferred to Tanzania. After telling the public the Maji Maji war story over a certain time, these objects will return to Tanzania. Our cooperation with Namibia follows a similar basic approach but also breaks new ground. The Ethnological Museum invited several researchers from Namibia as part of a partnership between the Museums Association of Namibia (MAN) and the Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz. Since spring 2019, they have been working with the Berlin museum’s team of scholars and examined the Berlin-housed Namibia collection and the approximately 1,400 objects concerning their history, significance, and artistic potential. The collection is particularly remarkable due to the early date of accession. The museum purchased its first objects as early as 1881. Admittedly, acquisitions for the majority of the collectibles dated later, during the German colonial period (1884–1919). On the one hand, the collected pieces reflect the appropriation process by German colonial powers, such as the military, members of the colonial administration, missionaries, and merchants. On the other hand, they reverberate the resourcefulness and creativity of the people of Namibia. The genocide of the Ovaherero and Namaqua (1904–1908) committed by German colonial powers and the subsequent dispossession, forced resettlement, and discrimination of Namibian people during the Union of South Africa’s UN mandate over the

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Fig. 3: Representatives of Namibia and the Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz at the collaboration’s kick-off press event. © SPK/photothek.net / Florian Gaertner

region from 1920 to 1990 endangered the knowledge of objects in German and Namibian museum collections and hindered their replacement by new cultural production. Historical collections are of particular importance for many communities in Namibia today. The collectibles are almost the only material remnants of pre-colonial and early colonial material culture, providing both valuable source materials for historical research and an important source of inspiration for contemporary artists and designers. A project funded by the Gerda Henkel Foundation has begun joint research on the collection, with a significant portion of the substantial grant directed to funding the work in Namibia. In spring 2020, our Namibian partners, in close consultation with community representatives on-site, selected 23 objects from the total holdings of the 1,400-number collection to have them transferred to Namibia soon. These objects mostly do not come from a context of violence, but they are of extreme importance for filling a gap in the cultural history of the people of Namibia. Therefore, from the beginning of this cooperation, we planned the return of these objects. And for the first time, we see such an open-ended cooperation process in Germany—and conditioned by the Namibian partners for the most part. Over several years, research into the objects’ history and significance continued, and the items are available to contemporary artists for creative exploration on-site in Namibia. Furthermore, we arranged for four

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several-day workshops in Namibia, at the National Museum of Namibia, and in cultural heritage communities. The collaboration aimed at reactivating and documenting the knowledge associated with the objects and other forms of intangible cultural heritage, such as historical production techniques and traditional materials. In addition, the Gerda Henkel Foundation funded a conservator and a museologist at the National Museum of Namibia and supported the museum with capacity-building workshops and materials for conserving the collection. In May 2022, these objects were returned to Namibia first as permanent loans, but only one month later, we transferred the property to the Republic of Namibia. The objects have been brought to Ojiwarango where a new Nambian Fashion Museum was founded. Artists and fashion designers are now working with these objects and using them as a source of artistic inspiration. So, the return of cultural heritage assets allows the people of Namibia to rediscover their history and use it to create their future. Now let’s look at another continent: eastern Oceania. The traditional men’s house—for decades a centerpiece in the Berlin-Dahlem ethnological museum and soon on display in the Humboldt Forum—originates from Palau. Since the 1905 men’s house was sagging a bit, the Republic of Palau kindly offered help to have the roof re-built using old handicraft techniques. The prerequisite palm leaf thatching—woven in Palau and shipped by sea to Hamburg in the meantime—is stored in Dahlem now to be installed in the Humboldt Forum before long. The collaboration to restore the Palauan men’s house is an excellent example of Shared Heritage. Indeed, the term means participation, involvement, and co-responsibility. In August 2022, we completed the work on-site in the respective gallery at the Humboldt Forum. In this sense, it also applies to the work of Chinese artist and architect Wang Shu: He oversaw staging the exhibition of 18th-century Chinese court art at the Humboldt Forum and decided on traditional building materials to present the pieces in the enormous hall effectively. It is now one of the most impressive galleries of the Humboldt Forum. There is a binding element to cultural assets, but the conjoining dynamic must be activated first to unfold its effect. The possible forms of activation are manifold and depend on the type of cultural assets and the respective historical and political contexts. Even if the concept of Shared Heritage is controversial, like so much that we come across when dealing with non-European cultural assets, I consider the concept an essential step forward compared to views on heritage from the past. The fundamental idea is, after all, that museums hold custody of the cultural heritage while the assets remain the property of all humankind. As a matter of fact, this principle can only apply on the condition of the asset’s legal acquisition.

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For me, Shared Heritage does not imply that we must “share out” cultural assets, but that we come together “in sharing”—as actual participation. Shared Heritage is thus, in a way, a transnational idea, yet it presupposes a certain degree of mutual recognition on the part of those involved. Therefore, following the argumentation, objects of cultural heritage stored in Germany must be made available to the cultures and societies of origin. Inextricably linked to such a move is the decolonization and democratization of museums. 8 First of all, that calls for involving curators from the countries and societies of origin in the process and breaking down old hierarchies of interpretation—especially when it comes to opening up the diverse perspectives and levels of meaning regarding an object and communicating them to visitors, thus giving the societies of origin a voice. 9 A remarkable example of an appropriate-functioning process is the collaboration with representatives of the indigenous University of Tauca in Venezuela. Meanwhile, the joint work on the presentation of the Amazon collection evolved into a project that encloses participants from three countries—Venezuela, Brazil, and Colombia. Secondly, it is crucial that the object-based knowledge about the cultures of the world gathered here is made accessible to everyone at large. Therefore, it is a central task to make the whole body of knowledge available in digital form, including any related information, and supplement the digital content when the research progresses. There is a recent success in this context. The German Research Foundation has granted funding for a project that will enable the Berlin Ethnological Museum to digitalize, complete with compiling an index, the entirety of the museum’s files on acquisitions from the beginning to the year 1947. This project can set new standards in terms of transparency, especially since digitalization and open access alone fall short of expectations here. If setting up user-friendly straightforward handling is the objective, transcribing the documents is imperative. In doing so, we will enable many people to read otherwise hermetic texts written in Sütterlin (an old form of German-language handwriting also known as a type of German cursive) or printed in any typeface dating from the turn of the century before last. In addition, the effort to have the texts translated into English would be a worthwhile cause. There is still much work to be done here, and quick successes are 8 See Herrmann Parzinger: Geteiltes Erbe ist doppeltes Erbe. Wir dürfen die Herkunftsländer kolonialer Kunst nicht länger mit westlichen Beruhigungspillen abspeisen. In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Oct. 15, 2016, p. 11. 9 See Idem: Zeitenwende oder Ablasshandel? Die Aufarbeitung des kolonialen Erbes ist mit Rückgaben allein nicht erledigt. Der Dialog mit den Herkunftsgesellschaften sollte in eine gemeinsame Museumsarbeit münden. In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Nov. 29, 2018, p. 9.

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rare in research. Whoever dismisses such concerns as delaying tactics and doubts the seriousness of these efforts should consider the complexity of the collections and the scope of provenance research. And thirdly, why not allow parts of the collections to travel more frequently? What if we would enter even closer cooperation with museums in the countries of origin and exchange holdings for temporary exhibitions? Collectibles could even travel in both directions, mutual benefit included. The Humboldt Forum could become a hub serving a worldwide cultural exchange network. We have the impression that our colleagues in Africa share our assessment that this would be vital. Fourthly, an equal partnership implicates the return of individual objects if their unjust appropriation is proven or they bear particular significance for the society of origin. 10 Shared Heritage is a challenge, and the level we may accomplish depends on the quality and depth of the research—into the circumstances of acquisition and the object biographies. Things look entirely different when it comes to the extensive anthropological collections containing thousands of human bones. The objects, mostly skulls, originate from all over the world; in some cases, it is unknown from which destination or what context they exactly came from for the time being. However, the answers to these questions matter most to our partners, as we currently see in a provenance research project funded by the Gerda Henkel Foundation. The research group concentrates on circa 1,200 skulls from former German East Africa (Tanzania and Rwanda). Such a joint investigation into the origin of the bones is a prerequisite for repatriating human remains to the correct communities. Let me be clear: Provenance research on human remains from colonial contexts should not help clarify whether we should return the items but should exclusively address the question of to whom the remains should be repatriated. Additionally, it is our duty to include all information still available (in our country and elsewhere) when returning human remains. Eventually, the keystone of the cooperation with the countries of origin and the affected indigenous communities is longevity and sustainability, whether cultural assets or anthropological collections are the collaboration’s focus. However, there is one decisive factor: This time, the Europeans must refrain from initiating, planning, and realizing the research alone. Scientists from Africa, Asia, Oceania, and America have to be involved from the start. Such a basis would provide for a higher level of cooperation, and cooperating “on equal footing” would be a given. Still, we cannot 10 See Idem: Wem gehört die Kunst der Kolonialzeit? Leihgabe oder Rückgabe: Ohne internationale Regeln gibt es keine fairen Lösungen. In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Jan. 25, 2018, p. 9.

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Fig. 4: Andrea Scholz, Ethnological Museum Berlin, and scientists from the Amazon region in the Berlin museum’s depot. © SPK/Inga Kjer / photothek.net

achieve this objective without a more substantial commitment from the public authorities. As a final example, I would like to mention the so-called Benin bronzes. When British troops plundered the palace of the King of Benin in 1897 in retaliation for the murder of British envoys, the objects turning up in Europe subsequently proved to be most valuable—model examples of unparalleled high-quality African art. When commemorative bronze heads, relief plates and figure groups made of brass, and magnificently carved elephant tusks arrived in Europe, the works drew enthusiastic comparisons from art historians; some experts felt they matched the European Renaissance. Meanwhile, the Benin Dialogue Group started to work on a shared vision for the objects’ future. The group includes representatives from Nigeria and the large number of museums that have come into possession of works from Benin. The goal is to establish a large museum in Benin City and present the Benin bronzes in alternating exhibitions, including the collections from the various European museums. In the beginning, the talks focused on providing the items on loan. But considering the circumstances of the artworks’ seizure, no one can seriously believe this will prove appropriate. Therefore, it has been clear to German museums since 2021 that there will be substantial returns of Benin bronzes. In the

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summer of 2022, at first, the Prussian Cultural Heritage (SPK) Foundation in Berlin and later also other German museums declared their readiness to return the Benin bronzes to Nigeria. In August 2022, the SPK transferred the entire property of all its 514 Benin bronzes, the largest collection after the British Museum, but kept a third of the objects as long-term loans in Berlin for displaying them in the Humboldt Forum. Besides, one should bear in mind that, after more than a century gone by, these objects have acquired a significance here that should not be underestimated; moreover, they have changed the European view of Africa in a lasting way. And it is also the wish of our Nigerian partners that this art remains visible and accessible in other parts of the world. At the very end of 2022, the first objects physically returned to Nigeria. These returns, however, are not the end but the beginning of much closer cooperation between Germany and Nigeria in the cultural field. Another aspect that deserves consideration is that large parts of the Berlin Ethnological Museums’ inventory do not originate from former German colonies. Behind the systematical acquisition of most objects was a world-spanning network of buyers; research journeys netted the museum a smaller number of additional items. 11 Although the collections bear traces of colonial power relations, the idea of universal scholarship, the spirit of research, and the passion for getting acquainted with foreign cultures had an impact, too. No other than Alexander von Humboldt remarked with regard to native peoples at the Orinoco that we can’t understand the world in its entirety without appreciating even the cultural developments in the most remote of areas. I am firmly convinced we would be conducting the debate about German colonialism and its consequences differently today without the impulse produced by the Humboldt Forum in the rebuilt Berlin Palace. You find many ethnological collections and choice museums in Germany, but no other addresses all at once: Europe and globalization, human histories in all their historical depth, and relevant current debates. The Humboldt Forum is supposed to serve the dialogue of world cultures. However, such statements are no more than empty rhetoric unless we specify their meaning and clarify our vision of symmetrical interchange. Nebulous scenarios of world redemption contribute nothing to putting across the real potential of the Humboldt Forum. Coming to terms with the colonial past means more than restitution alone. The dialogue between museums and the societies of origin should 11 See Ulrich von Loyen: Das Archiv der Elementargedanken. Der amerikanische Historiker H. Glenn Penny schildert die “tragische Geschichte der deutschen Ethnologie.” In: Süddeutsche Zeitung, Aug. 7, 2019, p. 12.

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lead to mutual understanding, long-term partnerships, and trust in the joint work. The collections offer boundless possibilities for multilateral collaborations, cross-continent co-productions, and worldwide networking. The assets may open a window of opportunity for a new kind of intensive and lasting communication with the cultures and countries from which they originate. They provide a chance to develop a new relationship with the so-called Global South. In the spirit of Shared Heritage, we should embrace the occasion and work together to decode the objects and artworks and unveil their stories. Joint efforts may achieve that these objects can impart new knowledge about the world and break old, wrong thought patterns. They bear the potential to teach people tolerance and respect for the world’s cultures. By any chance, the most crucial mission of the Humboldt Forum in the newly reconstructed Berlin Palace today is to unlock this potential.

Hartmut Dorgerloh

Building Bridges—The Humboldt Forum in Berlin Revisiting Approach and Content—How Engaging in Multi-Voiced Participation Can Create a New Awareness

The Humboldt Forum in the Berlin Palace has stirred several public controversies. From the outset, the dispute over the reconstruction of the Hohenzollern Berlin Palace and the demolition of the former GDR’s Palace of the Republic made massive waves. Later, the socio-politically relevant debate about coming to terms with the colonial past and the closely related discussion about museum collections from colonial contexts also caused ripples. Especially when the debate turned towards demands for long overdue restitution and returns of objects from these collections and focused on “what once was appropriated under force and coercion” and acquired illegitimately, the dispute drew public attention. 1 These controversies have largely influenced the Humboldt Forum in the Berlin Palace. What’s more, this applies to the approach and content of the new cultural hub in the center of the German capital. Indeed, these discourses reinforced the new and previously untested self-understanding of the Humboldt Forum. The Forum defined its position as a think-and-learn tank and a center for social debate in a multipolar world—a world that is no less complex as it is hybrid and calls for multiple perspectives to understand its complexity. Beyond the monolithic often associated with its outer shell, the interior of the Humboldt Forum—the content and approaches conveyed therein—has changed several times to date. For one, the now completed building complex follows the architectural design drafted in 1993 consistently and true to the initial planning. In contrast, the Humboldt Forum’s

1 See Carsten Brosda (member of the German Social Democratic Party, SPD, and Senator for Culture of the City State of Hamburg) in: Deutsche Welle, Debatte um koloniale Raubkunst: Koloniales Erbe: Deutschland soll Kulturgüter zurückgeben, March 13, 2019, https://www.dw.com/de/koloniales-erbe-deutschland-soll-kulturgüterzurück geben/a-47895324 (retrieved March 15, 2019).

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envisaged main contents and programmatic orientation have undergone significant changes since the international expert commission Historische Mitte Berlin (i.e., Historical Center of Berlin) published its proposal on guiding principles in 2002. In contrast to the consistently planned architectural design and duly completed construction project, when it came to conceptual ideas and exhibition planning regarding the Humboldt Forum, things changed noticeably, especially in the last ten years, compared to the initial situation. On the part of the city-state of Berlin, there had already been a drastic shift in policy when responsibilities were transferred from the Berlin Central and Regional Library (Zentral- und Landesbibliothek or ZLB) to the Foundation Stadtmuseum Berlin in spring 2015. The political representatives dropped the idea of using the building as an archive and library for planning a “World of Languages” housed therein; finally, they favored the Forum as the residence of a “Berlin Exhibition.” At the latest, conceptual planning made a significant step forward when the founding directorate started its work in October 2015 and became even more detailed when I was appointed general director and chief executive officer in June 2018. Those coinciding social debates mentioned above influenced the program development during these years—to the effect that the Humboldt Forum evolved into a pivotal point in the discourse and, indeed, a catalyst. How do these recent public discourses affect the Humboldt Forum in detail? I cannot answer this question for the partners involved but on behalf of the Humboldt Forum as an institution (see for the Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz Hermann Parzinger’s contribution to this volume). Time and again, the Humboldt Forum has been spoken of in superlatives; one caption has it as “the hottest cultural-political mess in Europe since the turn of the millennium.” 2 I don’t want to judge; maybe that assessment is correct, but the millennium is still young. However, from the organization’s internal perspective, one thing becomes apparent: First and foremost, the involvement of a large and, in part, changing set of very different people or groups of people and institutions (and, therefore, a whole spectrum of varying interests) characterizes the undertaking. Moreover, the Humboldt Forum is a project with a considerably extended and significant history. It is a product of the recent German past, and its roots reach into the post-reunification period of united Germany.

2 Monika Grütters quoted from Deutsche Welle: Festakt Berlin. Seit 20 Jahren gibt es Kulturstaatsminister, https://www.dw.com/de/seit-20-jahren-gibt-es-kultur staatsminister/a-46082814 (retrieved March 15, 2019).

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Concededly, we must deal with the decisions once made—for the building site, the reconstruction, and the institution’s scope—but there’s more. In today’s globalized, pluralized reality, reassessment of all areas of life sets the tracks for the journey and calls for a high level of awareness, a sensitive approach towards any perspectives, diligent self-reflection, and well-considered actions. The Humboldt Forum, an institution integrated into its surrounding society and connected with the sphere of contemporary thought, reflects the publicly defined common-sense binding for the respective period (and thus in a state of constant change). And this has held true for more than a quarter of a century; hence we can distinguish three phases: (1) At the beginning of the 1990s, the Hamburg entrepreneur Wilhelm von Boddien began to champion the idea of reconstructing the Berlin Palace and reviving Berlin’s historic center in an extraordinarily effective, targeted, and successful manner. In 2002, barely ten years later, the Bundestag decided to demolish the Palace of the Republic and partially reconstruct the Berlin Palace. Yet even the Humboldt Forum’s first founding phase—referring to conceptual terms—was accompanied by an initial and quite massive wave of protest. The parties to the dispute elaborated on architectural, architectural-historical, and political arguments and brought the potential reconstructed Hohenzollern Palace, rich in tradition, in position against the crumbling Palace of the Republic, an important testimony to the cultural and political heritage of the GDR. However, the political majority settled the issue by a parliament decision. (2) The second ideational founding phase saw the foundation’s transformation, established initially as the prospective owner of the building (named Stiftung Berliner Schloss – Humboldt Forum) into a cultural institution heading a construction project (named Stiftung Humboldt Forum im Berliner Schloss). The move included establishing a subsidiary for cultural operations to the successor foundation (Humboldt Forum Kultur GmbH). Plus, the Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media, Monika Grütters, appointed three founding directors (Neil MacGregor, Horst Bredekamp, and Hermann Parzinger). In this phase, while the building’s level of reconstruction and overall appearance were still under discussion, another debate arose. Key issues were the handling of the collections’ colonial contexts and a call for organizational renewal one of the Humboldt Forum’s partner institutions was facing. Starting in 2018, the Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz (i.e., Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation) underwent an evaluation process by the Deutscher Wissenschaftsrat (i.e., German Science and Humanities Council), which finally voiced massive critique regarding the foundation’s institutional structures. Apart from the debates about the architectural design of the

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Humboldt Forum, critical questions regarding its cultural policy mission took center stage. The discussion in May 2017 about whether it is appropriate to have a cross on the dome of the Humboldt Forum was one culminating point; another was the resignation of Bénédicte Savoy from the Humboldt Forum’s international expert advisory board a few weeks later. The publicly declared resignation of a renowned expert who should have helped and advised the then founding directorate in pressing contentrelated questions was much-noticed news far beyond Germany. (3) The third founding phase of the Humboldt Forum began with the decision on new governance and the appointment of a general director on 1 June 2018 and ended with the opening of the house in three steps: (1) the structural completion and corona-related digital opening of the house in December 2020, (2) the first major partial opening of temporary and permanent exhibitions in the west wing and a major special exhibition in summer 2021, and (3) the last major partial opening of the exhibition areas in the east wing in September 2022. In addition to the permanent exhibitions of the Ethnological Museum and the Museum of Asian Art, a total of six temporary exhibition modules in cooperation with international partners and two major special exhibitions were opened during this period. 3 In this relatively short phase (compared to the entire founding period), we accomplished quite a lot and worked on defining the project’s scope, detailed the concept, and sharpened the profile. While the construction of the building complex was completed, we were busy planning the public opening and the special event for the following month. Plus, we developed a routine for fruitful cooperation amongst the relevant project partners: the Staatliche Museen Berlin and the Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz, the Stiftung Stadtmuseum Berlin, the Humboldt University, and the Stiftung Humboldt Forum im Berliner Schloss. In addition to implementing the new governance and discussions on cooperation and utilization possibilities, it was also about initiating essential processes for developing the strategy and mission statement. The increasingly intensifying restitution debate and the accompanying institutional and governmental policy initiatives to clarify the handling of collections from colonial contexts were more than a sideshow for the project’s ongoing development; they shaped the internal processes. I recall the following milestones: Emmanuel Macron’s speech at the University of Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, in November 2017; the Guidelines for Deal-

3 See website Humboldt Forum, https://www.humboldtforum.org/de/programm/, retrieved Dec. 20, 2022.

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ing with Collection Assets from Colonial Contexts published by the German Museums Association; the report on the Restitution of African Cultural Heritage by Bénédicte Savoy and Felwine Sarr of November 2018, which caused a great stir internationally; the declaration of the German Cultural Council of February 2019; and the joint declaration of the minister of culture of the German government and the respective ministers of the Federated States on the Regulation of the Handling of Colonial Objects published in March 2019. As a result and consequence, not only the cooperation of ethnological museum institutions in Europe has intensified in recent years. The signing of the contract on the transfer of ownership of the Benin objects from the collection of the Ethnological Museum of the National Museums in Berlin—Prussian Cultural Heritage to Nigeria by Hermann Parzinger, President of the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation, and Abba Isa Tijani, Director General of the National Commission for Museums and Monuments (NCMM), on 25 August 2022 in Berlin sets a globally visible sign here and is a starting point for a new future of intensive cooperation and cultural exchange. 4 This fundamental event necessitated a redesign of the Benin exhibition module: Forty of the total over 500 Benin objects will continue to be on display at the Humboldt Forum as loans. The exhibition illustrates the restitution process and gives space to the voices of those involved. The Humboldt Forum has been actively involved in these discourses. Its representatives participated in various conferences, workshops, and meetings, such as the “Museum Talks” in Windhoek, Namibia, in September 2019. The talks were the final conference to a project series organized by several of the Goethe-Institut’s African branches in the Sub-Saharan region in cooperation with national museums, ministries, and UNESCO. Additionally, the forum actively supported the discussion among the significant European collections on how European exhibition houses can fulfill their responsibility to reappraise colonial acquisition contexts critically. Museums’ representatives agreed on the need to uncover and thoroughly analyze exhibition formats and forms of presentation that follow colonial argumentations—with the objective to counteract them. Participants in the dialogue concluded that the decolonization of European museums could only succeed as a process of self-critical questioning. Such a process should question old patterns and reveal outdated expressions to change them, strengthen counter-narratives, and thus break colonial narratives

4 See https://www.preussischer-kulturbesitz.de/pressemitteilung/artikel/2022/08/25/ rueckgabe-der-berliner-benin-bronzen.html, retrieved Dec. 20, 2022.

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and categories. From the Humboldt Forum’s point of view, the close cooperation of museums is central to the process—to enable and promote scientific exchange among the museums and with critical activists and interest groups. What if there were, for example, a Europe-wide object database? Eventually, networked data could help to efficiently process claims for restitution and related queries regarding the provenance of objects. During an inaugural symposium in September 2022 with numerous international partners, we jointly reflected in workshops on how we want to work together and facilitate exchange in the future, resulting in the joint declaration “Dignity—Continuity—Transparency” that addresses ideas, proposals, and expectations in view of the serious global challenges climate change, species extinction, social hardship, and exclusion. 5 This declaration will provide us with orientation for collaborative, transdisciplinary work with partners from the societies of origin in the coming years. The issues that proved to provide necessary guiding themes for the program and profile of the Humboldt Forum were: to reflect on colonialism and its consequences and to problematize current forms of racism on all levels of social life. In particular, this shall include the critical examination of German colonial history and the effects of colonial practices such as image politics, modes of dealing, and thinking patterns—up to the present day. Kang Sunkoo used the caption “Statue of Limitations” to title one of his artworks and to allude to the legal term of the statute of limitations for criminal offenses. Sunkoo’s two-part sculptural room installation, a flag made of bronze and patinated in black, “flies at half-mast” and seems to break through the ceiling at the high staircase in the Humboldt Forum. The artwork is a silent memorial to the harrowing experience when claims expire by limitation, the dear consequences, and the damaging effects of repression. However, the intense reflection on colonial injustice and how it continues to proliferate into the present is, in my view, embedded in fundamental and far-reaching social changes. In times of globalization and dissolution of boundaries, massively changing social structures create new fields of tension and present us with entirely new challenges when a global, allpervasive, and culturally leveling economy interferes with ethnic and cultural characteristics and mechanisms of exclusion collide with strategies of inclusion, etc. Other inherent parts of the discourse are fears of

5 See Humboldt Forum website https://www.humboldtforum.org/de/wuerde-kontinu itaet-transparenz-3/, retrieved Dec. 20, 2022.

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Fig. 1: Kang Sunkoo, Statue of Limitations, Art as an Integral Part of the Building, Humboldt Forum im Berliner Schloss, 2019. © Kang Sunkoo, Statue of Limitations / Foundation Humboldt Forum im Berliner Schloss/David von Becker

impending endeavors to marginalize Europe and growing criticism given the omnipresent consequences of a mechanistic, evolutionary, rationalistreason-dominated worldview. The latter basic approach has shaped Western thought and action over centuries and formed the very idea of one of the most renowned Western cultural institutions, the museum. 6 In this respect, it is not surprising that this debate has zeroed in on institutions active in exhibiting, archiving, and preserving collections. Right in the middle of it: the Humboldt Forum and the collections it presents, like the Ethnological Collections and those of the Museum of Asian Art (one of the National Museums in Berlin held by the Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz). The reified image illustrates the predominance of symbolism here: On the one hand, the building’s completion and the Humboldt Forum’s opening to the public came about in a decisive phase of upheaval, and the debate, which the Forum sparked up, rendered visible the conflicts and contradictions in the self-conception of Western societies and their relationship to the rest of the world. On the other hand, a collection’s visual presentation, complete with contextual and spatial references, makes a system of social order and the underlying value categories recognizable and tangible.

6 See Felwine Sarr: Afrotopia. Berlin 3rd ed. 2019, pp. 21–28.

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In this sense, it becomes all the more important to focus on both issues: to address the selection of things exhibited at the Humboldt Forum and to reorient their presentation. In many respects, the Humboldt Forum does not fit into the traditional categories of a cultural institution: It houses historical ethnological collections from Africa, Oceania, Asia, and North and South America; nevertheless, it is not so much a museum but a hub. The Forum displays contemporary art in the public realm—amongst others, the winning artworks of various “Art on Public Buildings” competitions—and draws visitors’ attention to objects that serve as tangible traces to remind us of the site’s history. It houses the Berlin Exhibition of the Stiftung Stadtmuseum Berlin and the Kulturprojekte Berlin and hosts events in a large area with several halls. The Humboldt University has placed its Humboldt Labor under the Forum’s umbrella, a venue for making current research accessible to the interested public. The Humboldt Academy provides room for various knowledge-transfer-related events and accommodates the requirements of participants in the residency programs regarding working spaces, etc. Last but not least, the Humboldt Forum houses two of the oldest sound archives, the Sound and Phonogram Archive of the Humboldt University and the respective archive of the Ethnological Museum. These most extensive historical collections of acoustic recordings bring to mind the inestimable value of intangible heritage—in languages, sounds, and songs. Collaboration with the Center for General Linguistics resulted in the Listening Room concept. The sound installations in the room focus on the relevance of linguistic diversity and the problem of extinct or endangered languages. Suppose the Humboldt Forum becomes a meeting place and experimental area for intercultural approaches and offers space for debate. In that case, it is inevitable to include many voices from diverse cultural circles and various continents and offer starting points for transdisciplinary collaboration. And if togetherness on a global scale is the goal, the institution must adhere to a practice of listening and sharing; hence, embracing multi-perspectivity and approaches favoring many voices begins at best when people come together in small-scale settings. The Humboldt Forum provides prime conditions for such an undertaking, as awareness of a multitude of different perspectives and voices is already an integral part of its DNA. The Forum’s pluralistic orientation is evident, for one, in its program’s three cornerstones: Exhibitions / Museum Activities, Cultural Events, and Science and Research / Education and Conveyance. For another, you find pluralism reflected in the cooperation partners’ programs and the interactions between the partner institutions. All these factors combine into a setting that calls permanently for negotiation processes, and however complicated or straightforward such exchanges

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Fig. 2: Long Night of Ideas. We are still here. The Omaha Speaking. © Foundation Humboldt Forum im Berliner Schloss/David von Becker

may be in a particular case, awareness of each other’s perspective and prerequisites is indispensable—and enriching—in day-to-day operations. “If the building of a bridge does not enrich the awareness of those who work on it, then the bridge ought not to be built,” noted Frantz Fanon, 7 and his words fit the Humboldt Forum, a joint project comprising many partners. On September 13/14, 2019, the last large-scale public event on the Forum’s construction site gave a glimpse into how future efforts for a new awareness regarding multi-perspectivity could work out. On the occasion of the 250th birthday of Alexander von Humboldt, the Foundation Humboldt Forum realized in cooperation with the GoetheInstitut an event that deliberately featured multiple voices. The program included exhibitions, performances, lectures, music events, and a virtual reality project. Artists and scientists from different backgrounds and geographical locations—from Berlin and Bogotá, Lima and London, Mexico City, Novosibirsk, Potsdam, Quito, and the Amazon region—reflected on the work of the explorer Alexander von Humboldt. They fashioned, crafted, and formulated their contributions from a contemporary perspective; hence, this intensive, globally oriented, and elaborately prepared two-day festival taught us a lot. Above all, it

7 Frantz Fanon: The Wretched of the Earth. New York 1968, p. 200.

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Fig. 3: Light projection on the east façade of the Humboldt Forum on the 250th birthday of Alexander von Humboldt © Stiftung Humboldt Forum im Berliner Schloss / David von Becker

encouraged us to persist with our approach, which makes for new and lasting connections. For that matter, for us, it’s all about making room for critical issues, trying out new, challenging formats of collaboration, taking risks for fresh possibilities, stimulating debates, and providing project realms that uphold artistic and scientific freedom. In the context of the 250th anniversary, we presented a large-scale projection titled “O Ciclo Anual no Rio Tiquié/One Annual Cycle at the Tiquié” on the east façade of the Humboldt Forum. The installation, a result of intensive cooperation with the Berlin Ethnological Museum over the last few years, premiered in Berlin, featuring a kaleidoscope of worlds and an interplay of world views. Indigenous and non-indigenous artists and Brazilian and German ethnologists had created an impressive visual narrative introducing indigenous myths and observations about stellar constellations and the annual cycle. The Forum’s monumental, strictly structured eastern façade became the projection surface for moving images, fluidly interweaving fiction with reality and conveying the highly complex indigenous ideas of time, ecology, and ritual. That is to say: spectators witnessed the Humboldt Forum’s transformation into a medium that can project and transmit ideas, perspectives, and positions. “Who speaks to whom about what?” is the crucial question when we work on our program! It arises anew every day. What do I see from

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which perspective? What is an “object” anyway? For whom and when does something become an object? We aim to enter a global conversation and critically engage with marginalization processes and exclusion tendencies. We hope that the Humboldt Forum will advance to a place of cross-cultural exchange where the most diverse ideas about pictorial representation and the boundaries of representability circulate. Only in this way will it be possible to support a collective process of mutually relating to each other while coming from many different perspectives and adhering to various visual cultures. Self-questioning—the questioning looks at one’s own social, national, cultural, and ethnic identity—should always be part of this process of exchange and debate. Culture is always a relational, changeable concept, including provisional and not conclusively fixable intrinsic and extrinsic references, relationships, and dynamics. In this respect, the tension between the supposedly own and the seemingly other will always reappear, partly redefined, every bit as the contrast to the general / universal and the particular / special will resurface. The Humboldt Forum has—not least because it is a publicly funded non-profit project—a responsibility to reach a broad public and to act on behalf of the public good. As we understand them, our cultural activities fulfill a social function: to connect people with each other. Culture and the world of exhibits are social bonding agents. In accordance with this line of argument, one of the central discussions in the Humboldt Forum’s team focuses on how to understand and maintain diversity while strengthening connections and cohesion. It, therefore, seems all the more important not to deprive the exhibits of their multiple interactive functions and to make them equally recognizable as objects of identity, reflection, and remembrance or even spiritual objects, among other things, by means of performative approaches to the image, as was recently demonstrated by 13 dancers and musicians from Tanzania in “Vinyago. Dance beyond colonial biographies,” a room installation consisting of an exhibition, dance performance, and video art. At the center of the performance were East African masks from the Ethnological Museum—objects which had lost their original spiritual, ritual, and performative context as museum exhibits. 8 Museums must put the Western-influenced aspects of their exhibition concepts into perspective and open up to the reception habits of other cultures. The same applies to our conception of art; hence, the Western notion l’art pour l’art is limited and should be dropped in favor of a concept

8 See https://www.humboldtforum.org/en/programm/termin/dance/vinyago-perfor mance-58513/ (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023).

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that includes performative, socially mediating, interacting, and ephemeral expressions. In this respect, the Humboldt Forum could be assigned yet another responsibility beyond those already mentioned: to make empirically tangible (in the exhibition space) the images’ relationships to their historical and present environment, the associated accumulated contents, and the various recipients and interpreters. As objects and images enter into new contexts, new contexts of action and, thus, new images can emerge. After all, we embrace an empathic, globally expanded understanding of the image that includes hearing and seeing, animation and movement, and the real and the unreal—to allow the momentary, the ephemeral to flow into the pool of culture-preserving memory. When reflecting on the comprehensive approach of the Humboldt Forum, one thing becomes apparent: the Forum’s concept will never come in a final formulation, inherently stringent and following one narrative. We have to accept that conceptual work is a process, contradictory, and subject to constant change. In this respect, we hope that we can turn the challenge described by Jürgen Zimmerer as the “dangerous slant of the Humboldt Forum” 9 into a feature. We aim to make contradictions visible, set up a venue for hosting discourses, and point out stylistic, cultural, ideological, and historical rifts—and perhaps even overcome them. In a nutshell: we build bridges!

9 Jürgen Zimmerer: Die größte Identitätsdebatte unserer Zeit. In: Süddeutsche Zeitung, Febr. 20, 2019, https://www.sueddeutsche.de/kultur/kolonialismus-postkolonialis mushumboldt-forum-raubkunst-1.4334846?print=true (retrieved March 15, 2019).

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Decolonize the Museum Island! Museum Narratives, Race Theory, and Opportunities in a Much Too Quiet Debate

1 Introduction The term insular mentality describes cultural obstinacy resulting from isolation. Often, we forgive the island residents for their stubbornness, but we are not talking about the British here; we are talking about Berlin’s Museum Island. In recent years, one could get the impression this particular island is not affected by the debate about how to deal with non-European objects in European museums. The Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation had ignited the controversy with plans for the Humboldt Forum in the island’s immediate vicinity. Yet there are objects on this island from areas such as western Turkey, Egypt, and Iraq. At the sight of the Pergamon Altar and Ishtar Gate, one might almost forget these origins; hence, so much is rhapsodized about where the finds were excavated: in “Asia Minor” or in Mesopotamia. The stylization has the location as the “cradle of civilization,” deeply anchored in the occidental, that is, classical-antique and Christian-biblical canon. In “Spree-Athens,” a centuries-old nickname for Berlin, they once presented cultural and human history as a striving for progress that inevitably led to Prussia. This idea comes to mind when Hermann Parzinger, president of the Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz (i.e., Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation) and co-director of the then Humboldt founding team, characterizes the Museum Island as a “vision of the nineteenth century.” On the island, he elaborates, the focus is on the development of European art and culture, which in turn has its roots in the Near East. 1

1 See http://www.preussischer-kulturbesitz.de/news-detail/article/2015/02/12/der-is lamgehoert-zur-museumsinsel-artikel-von-hermann-parzinger-erschienen-am-11-

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In fact, the debate about collections and the imperialist contexts of collecting campaigns spared the ancient sciences, classical archaeology, and the collections generated from them, although in the Humboldt Forum’s immediate vicinity. 2 The museums of the island still enjoy an almost unshakeable and exclusive status. In the Humboldt Forum, as announced, there will be partially free admission to exhibitions, for example. Quite different on Museum Island. That is because the collections there, Parzinger explained, “will retain their appeal. Those who want to see the Impressionists in the Alte Nationalgalerie, the Pergamon Altar, or Nefertiti will go there, no doubt.” 3 This is an interesting revenue-oriented conceptual approach that says a lot about changes and target audiences. Do the Humboldt Forum’s collections lose their appeal to certain visitor groups now that the Ethnological Museum, for example, has been forced to break free from the old narratives of the 19th century? However, islands often depend heavily on the mainland and are rarely spared when storms make landfall. Now, could one have both and critically reappraise acquisition histories at the Humboldt Forum to overcome the Eurocentric gaze by introducing multi-perspectivity while secretly declaring other collections sacrosanct by arguing their collection concepts have their origins in the very epoch that has now become the focus of debate? If the “cradle of all civilizations” is localized in Iraq or Egypt, this is a precautionary updating of Berlin’s common parlance and indicates that the interpretive sovereignty of Western museums is relative and that historical references used elsewhere are markedly different. Some of those responfebruar-2015-i.html (retrieved Jan. 10, 2020). See also the contribution by Hermann Parzinger to this volume. 2 In this essay, I want to detail arguments I have already presented in earlier media articles. My first article in the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung in 2017 did not spark a debate on the issues at Museum Island, https://ed.faz.net/faz-ed./feuilleton/ 2017-09-28/a1c9463e96fee6e24b63d5ca4da22a84/ (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). I made another attempt in the Süddeutsche Zeitung at the beginning of 2020, https://www. sueddeutsche.de/kultur/wissenschaft-und-museen-dekolonisieren-hand-in-hand-1. 4772201 (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020), and most recently in the radio programme (with Lorenz Rollhäuser) Auf Sumpf gebaut. Imperiale Träume auf der Berliner Museumsinsel, DeutschlandRadio Kultur, June 28, 2022, https://www.hoerspielundfeature.de/ auf-sumpf-gebaut-100.html (retrieved Dec. 15, 2022). The Museum Island was also mentioned and analyzed in connection with the Humboldt Forum in Friedrich von Bose: Das Humboldt-Forum. Eine Ethnographie seiner Planung. Berlin 2016, and Fatima El Tayeb: The Universal Museum: How the New Germany Built its Future on Colonial Amnesia. In: Nka (2020) No. 46, pp. 72–82. Amongst the most recent contributions is also the publication of Jürgen Gottschlich und Dilek Zaptcioglu: Die Schatzjäger des Kaisers: Deutsche Archäologen auf Beutezug im Orient. Berlin 2021. 3 Quoted from https://www.welt.de/regionales/berlin/article204754954/HumboldtForum-soll-weitgehend-keinen-Eintritt-kosten.html (retrieved Febr. 4, 2020).

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sible at Museum Island know the state of affairs well. For instance, a new label has been put into circulation for the Pergamon Museum: “migration museum”—a move that will inevitably cause significant reverberations. 4 Still, in the eyes of many, Museum Island seems unproblematic, thus “attractive,” and appears as a solid rock in the surf. Instead, for others, an image comes to mind resembling a bubbling, soon-to-explode pot on which one has had difficulties clamping the lid for quite some time. Nevertheless, the case of Nefertiti has moved into the background due to the heated discussions about restitution claims from African countries—even if Egypt spans the northeastern corner of the African continent. Archaeologists frequently wave off the case by pointing out that most finds originate from the then Ottoman Empire—formally not a European colony—and are no cause for concern. However, colonial historians understand the Middle East as an area of imperialist conquest, obviously featuring unequal power relations. 5 That’s open to dispute. The case of Nefertiti and the much-discussed fund-sharing agreements show that it is not easy to conduct a nuanced debate under the catchword “looted art”—even on Museum Island. 6 On the other hand, if one wants to follow the critics and understand European colonialism as a phenomenon with remarkable structural effects, it would be surprising if some institutions remain unaffected by the challenge. 7 The Neues Museum (where bullet holes remind us of the Second World War) and the Pergamon Museum should not constitute an exception. Prussia’s Egypt expedition and the excavations in Mesopotamia, strategically crucial for the German empire’s imperialist policy, come to mind. Even though the museums did not play an active role in every case, they were at least beneficiaries of the comprehensive European project. It is therefore not surprising that—yes, who actually?—is generally shrouded in silence. Meanwhile, many stocks of excavation documents are kept under lock and key on the grounds they were needed for innerinstitutional research. 8 However, there is nothing one can do to stop a 4 For novel approaches regarding the topic Migration and Museums see https://www. tagesspiegel.de/kultur/ausstellung-erinnerung-sprich/3928218.html (retrieved June 1, 2020). 5 See among others Suzanne Marchand: German Orientalism in the Age of Empire: Religion, Race, and Scholarship. Cambridge 2009. 6 See https://www.faz.net/aktuell/feuilleton/kunst/streit-um-nofretete-die-buntedarfnicht - bewegt - werden - 1582217 . html and https://www . zeit . de / 2018 / 11 / raubkunst-kolonialzeit-deutschland-rueckgabe (both retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 7 See https://www.kolonialismus.uni-hamburg.de/2017/11/15/kolonialismus-ist-keinspiel/ (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 8 Several researchers reported obstacles when they tried to access archival holdings related to the former Ottoman Empire’s territories on Museum Island.

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Fig. 1: James Simon Gallery on Museum Island (2019), https://upload.wikimedia.org/ wikipedia/commons/6/65/Berlin_James-Simon-Galerie_asv2019-07_img2.jpg (A. Savin)

particular unfolding trend: At international conferences, participants have persistently called for “decolonizing archaeology.” 9 Doesn’t it seem rather clueless to glorify the latest classicist-looking additions to the museums on Museum Island, such as the James Simon Gallery? Especially when one considers that across the street, in the reconstructed Berlin Palace and Humboldt Forum, a debate about forgotten chapters in history is currently driving into a dead end? Yet, the James Simon Gallery could become a new problem case. On the one hand, the project management opted for a Jewish name giver contrasting the avowed antisemitic former museum director of the Bodemuseum Wilhelm von Bode. On the other hand, the Simon family owned a textile factory in the mid-19th century that grew into Europe’s most extensive cotton trade. The latter raises several follow-up-questions. 10 Where did the cotton come from? And how does this relate to the Simonfunded expeditions in Egypt? At last, it was not merely Nefertiti who came from Egypt; European cotton imports from the region (and other

9 TAG (Theoretical Archaeology Group) Conference 2019, University College London, Dec. 16–18, 2019. Session “The Decolonisation of Archaeology and Archaeological Collections within museums,” https://www.ucl.ac.uk/archaeology/news-events/con ferences/tag-2019/tagucl-ioa-conference-sessions/sessions-31-55/tag-45 (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). See also the discussion about the subject Classics in the USA: https:// www.nytimes.com/2021/02/02/magazine/classics-greece-rome-whiteness.html. 10 See https://blog.smb.museum/der-maezen-james-simon-ein-geschenk-fuer-diemuseen/ (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020).

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African countries) surged after the supply from U.S. plantations became increasingly scarce. 11 James Simon financed the excavations in Amarna (and several other archeologist undertakings), but he, of all people, favored Nefertiti’s return. The newspapers write what you don’t hear in the James Simon Gallery: “After all, it was unfree, colonial conditions under which Nefertiti came to Berlin: The British ruled in Egypt, and the French were in charge of the administration of antiquities—they controlled the just division of finds. Even the financier of the excavation and temporary owner of the bust, James Simon, finally felt it was wrong to keep Nefertiti in Germany. In 1930, he publicly pleaded for [the bust’s] return. The injustice outweighed the delight in beauty.” 12

In other words, how do the non-European collections of the Humboldt Forum relate to those collections on Museum Island, some of which are likewise non-European? What is at issue at the Humboldt Forum in the long term? Is it all about provenance research, repatriation, and participation? Or could the forum’s opening be the starting signal for reappraising past centuries’ museum categories in general and finally breaking through the confines of these categories?

2 Complicit Partners: Imperialist Destruction and Museum Preservation Suppose one wants to understand to what extent museum concepts and the collective consciousness are entangled (a fact such concepts hardly reflect on). In that case, it is worth looking at the debate about the destruction of cultural heritage in the Middle East. In 2016, a traveling exhibition featured historical images of Palmyra under the nostalgic title “Palmyra. What Remains?!” 13 Admittedly, one could learn considerably about Palmyra as a “divided heritage” and a prime stimulus for GrecoRoman civilization. However, there was hardly any information on the fact that mapping the area paved the way for the European-dominated

11 See Christian Kleinschmidt, Dieter Ziegler (Eds.): Dekolonisierungsgewinner: Deutsche Außenpolitik und Außenwirtschaftsbeziehungen im Zeitalter des Kalten Krieges. Oldenburg 2018, p. 22; Sven Beckert: Von Tuskegee nach Togo. Das Problem der Freiheit im Reich der Baumwolle. In: Geschichte und Gesellschaft 31 (2005) No. 4, pp. 505–545; Sven Beckert: Empire of Cotton. A Global History. New York 2014. 12 https://www.zeit.de/2018/11/raubkunst-kolonialzeit-deutschland-rueckgabe (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 13 https://museenkoeln.de/portal/Palmyra-Was-bleibt-Louis-Fran%C3%A7ois-Cassasund-seine-Reise-in-den-Orient-im-Graphischen-Kabinett. See also http://derarchitektbda. de / das-mediale-bild/ (both retrieved Dec. 1, 2020).

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Fig. 2: Palmyra, a village street, stereoscopic image, between 1900 and 1920. Library of Congress, Washington (Public Domain, https://www.loc.gov/resource/ matpc.01426/)

archaeological view of the region and Palmyra’s designation as a Western tourist destination—with devastating consequences. For the most part, the exhibited images subscribe to a deserted-ruin aesthetic; in contrast, recently processed sources prove that there was a village amid the ruins. Archaeologist Salam al-Kuntar told the BBC that her mother was born in the Baal temple. She explained that the interior part of the temple had once served as a church, then in parts as an Umayyad mosque—until the French Mandate administration had the villagers forcibly relocated in 1929. 14 Eventually, there was little left of Palmyra. Under the watch of European colonial powers, archaeological expeditions and the destruction of cultural heritage (including heritage from the Islamic period) went hand in hand. The same forces had the ancient ruins built up for travelers on the Grand Tour simultaneously. Therefore, it comes across as rather simplistic when one models the two Western lines of actions—museum preservation and

14 See Kanishk Tharoor, Maryam Maruf: Museum of Lost Objects. The Temple of Bel. In: BBC News Magazine, March 1, 2016 https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b071tgbm, https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-35688943 (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020); Wendy M. K. Shaw: Preserving Preservation. Maintaining Meaning in Museum Storage. In: Mirjam Brusius, Kavita Singh (Eds.): Museum Storage and Meaning. Tales from the Crypt. Abingdon, New York 2017, pp. 152–168.

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destruction—as antipodes. Instead, they were often two sides of the same coin. 15 In light of these sources, one might wonder why there is often talk of “the” cultural heritage in the singular that needed saving. Markedly, promoters of the triumphal arch’s reconstruction have built a costly mockup representing the former Palmyra landmark between an imperial-times reminiscence, Nelson’s Column, and the National Gallery in London. The project promotes Western practices as the norm. 16 For others, this borders on cynicism. In any case, circulating photographs of propagandistic acts of destruction by the so-called Islamic State did not serve the destructors alone but also Western museums. The images provided plausible arguments that numerous objects should stay put—regardless of the dangers to which these objects were exposed: earthquake in the Getty Museum, flooding in the Louvre, or World War II on Berlin’s Museum Island. 17 Let alone ongoing threats (vandalism, etc.). 18 Assyriologist Eleanor Robson considers the lion and bull sculptures in Nimrud, Iraq, the safest objects; hence, they are still several layers deep in the earth. 19 Some assets might not have seen destruction had European archaeologists not excavated them in the 19th century. To put it bluntly, the destruction by the terrorists of the socalled Islamic State is a deliberate subversion of the Western paradigm of world heritage. Security is relative. However, in the long term, there is no denying how closely many excavations were involved with European expansionist 15 See http://theconversation.com/the-middle-east-heritage-debate-is-becoming-wor ryingly-colonial-57679 (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020); Mirjam Brusius: Objects and History Adrift. Contextualizing the Debate about Middle Eastern “Heritage.” In: Uwe Fleckner, Elena Tolstichin (Eds.): Artworks Adrift. Berlin, Munich 2019, pp. 55–71. 16 See https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2016/apr/19/palmyras-triumphal-archrecreated-in-trafalgar-square (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). Artist Michael Rakowitz produced an effective critical intervention in 2018 at the exact location: https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2018/mar/26/michael-rakowitzinvisible-enemy-shouldnot-exist-fourth-plinth-winged-bull-date-syrup-cans-defying-isis (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). See additionally Mirjam Brusius: On Connecting the Ancient and the Modern Middle East in Museums and Public Space. In: Katarzyna Puzon, Sharon Mcdonald, Mirjam Shatanawi (Eds.): Islam and Heritage in Europe. Past, Present, and Future Possibilities. London 2021, pp. 183–201. 17 See Brusius, Singh (note 14) and Mirjam Brusius: Das mediale Bild. Zerstörung als PR-Instrument. In: Der Architekt (2016) No. 2, pp. 43–48, http://derarchitektbda.de/ das-mediale-bild (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 18 See https://www.smb.museum/nachrichten/detail/stellungnahme-zum-akt-des-van dalismus-am-3-oktober-2020-in-museen-der-museumsinsel-berlin/ (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 19 See Eleanor Robson: Modern War, Ancient Casualties. In: Times Literary Supplement, March 26, 2015.

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policies. Nor that today’s violence against people and culture in the Middle East is evidence that these policies failed after the region got divided into European-mandated territories in the Sykes-Picot Agreement of 1916. 20 It may be too much to explain this to exhibition visitors or even to convey that 19th-century European archaeologists aimed to identify a “shared heritage” and still, in the same breath, wanted to rescue the objects of interest from “barbarian” hands. However, the handing-down of such ways of thinking continues in local collections. For example, when one learns that only two European archaeologists had to supervise hundreds of native excavation workers, that busts were “recovered,” or that—by the time German archaeologists came to its rescue—the natives used a stele as a dining table. So what? It’s the course of things due to material culture’s embedding in real life—even in Europe. For example, in Italy, no one considered it a crime to use column capitals when putting up a building until the founding of UNESCO. 21 Art historians label reused workpieces from older buildings with the term spolia. The term recently underwent a productive conceptual expansion; 22 nevertheless, those who believe the cultural canon threatened rarely use it. However, Split, Athens, Petra, Rome, and Palmyra exemplify how cultural heritage and real life have symbiotically merged until modern times. Why not use the concept of spolia to find new ways to tell object biographies? 23 Moreover, 19th-century attitudes still have a bearing on Western training programs for “locals” in the Middle East. Those locals repeatedly find themselves competing for funding with preservationists and archaeologists—the same experts who initially intended to respect existing expertise and place local needs at the center. Suppose Berlin would allow outsiders to dictate whether to rebuild the City Palace, regiment how to research

20 Some archaeologists have advocated postcolonial approaches in the context of the Middle East prior to the 21st century. See Lynn Meskell (Eds.): Archaeology under Fire. Nationalism, Politics and Heritage in the Eastern Mediterranean and Middle East. London, New York 1998; Susan Pollock, Reinhard Bernbeck (Eds.): Archaeologies of the Middle East: Critical Perspectives. Oxford 2005. See additionally the most recent contribution of Amy Gansell, Ann Shafer (Eds.): Testing the Canon of Ancient Near Eastern Art and Archaeology. Oxford 2020. The Ottoman side is the subject of Zainab Bahrani, Zeynep Celik, and Edhem Eldem (Eds.): Scramble for the Past: A Story of Archaeology in the Ottoman Empire, 1753–1914. Istanbul 2011. 21 See Fiona Rose-Greenland: Looters, Collectors and a Passion for Antiquities at the Margins of Italian Society. In: Journal of Modern Italian Studies 19 (2014) No. 5, pp. 570–582. 22 See Stefan Altekamp, Carmen Marcks-Jacobs, Peter Seiler (Eds.): Perspektiven der Spolienforschung, Vol. 1: Spoliierung und Transposition. Munich, Berlin 2013. 23 The project 100 Histories of 100 Worlds in one Object presents “alternative” object biographies from the perspective of the Global South. See https://100histories 100worlds.org/ (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020).

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artifacts, and present research results once a year—in Arabic. Such proceedings wouldn’t go down very well in the German capital. One finds the most bizarre continuation of cultural imperialism on group tours. In most cases originating from Central Europe, the participants feel comfortable announcing how the respective region’s inhabitants should handle their cultural heritage. They preferably comment on pilgrims bending their heads to kiss rare icons, feet scraping over filigree grave slabs (because this drives away the sins of the dead), or when feeding jars in daily use turn out to be antique clay vessels. Unless future generations understand that in travelogues from the 1850s, members of the European educated classes articulated their indignation in similar rhetoric, they will find it difficult to overcome such attitudes. Still, there are some questions pending, for one, whether the debate about provenance research and restitution can reassign objects to their intended purposes and help prevent the situation that former users find themselves degraded into victims in the discourse. For another, whether the Humboldt Directorate’s vision of a praiseworthy multi-perspective approach, which aims to place the appreciation of objects at the center, considers that the Western preservation ideal is only one form of handling cultural assets? In many cultures, things—from tea cups in Japan to ancestral portraits in Nigeria—only gain value through wear and tear or even decay. What’s more, looking at specific objects may even be unfathomable in other contexts. To acknowledge such approaches would be tantamount to being prepared to call museum preservation per se into question. 24 Praxis will show to which extent it will be possible to implement multi-perspective approaches in museums. After all, museums have often alienated what formerly belonged together: people, places, and things. Can museums bear so much critical scrutiny regarding their collections’ history without abolishing themselves? They do, indeed. As a result, they would revive interest and fulfill their educational mission. I will discuss the latter aspect in detail in the last part of this essay. In any case, museums should enable visitors to understand why some objects once became “European” when they originated in Asia and why Islam belongs, of all places, to Museum Island—according to Hermann Parzinger. 25 Finally, the historization of collection concepts, in all its facets, must become a focal point.

24 See Mirjam Brusius (Ed.): What is Preservation? Diversifying Engagement with the Middle East’s Material Past. In: Review of Middle East Studies 51 (2017) No. 2, pp. 177–182. 25 See note 1.

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3 Accomplices from the Very Beginning: Race and Racism Indeed, not everyone will like the assertion that one finds at the forefront of collection concepts—even on Museum Island—one cornerstone: “human races.” Museums would not even exist without patterns of thought motivated by racial theory. According to the motto divide et impera, Museums divide cultures into clearly defined categories that could never have existed in such a way, given the continuous migration of people and objects. Museums thrive upon the distinction between those who actively collect and those from whom the former garner collectibles. The aforementioned Western paradigm of protecting cultural property is nothing more than the relic of an ideology based on the supposition that the objects had to be extricated from the hands of those who were not worthy of them. Although in January 2020, former United States President Donald Trump turned that postulate on its head when threatening to destroy cultural property in Iran. 26 At times, when colonial collections in museums and the issue of racism are causing headaches for many, it is worth taking a closer look at this liaison. Museums helped invent racist hierarchies generated by the disciplines that were formed at universities in the 19th century. In tandem with universities, museums were instrumental in the scientific development of racial theories. Thus, such views existed even before the Nazi era. Since then, they have only been partially abandoned. In the meantime, word has spread—think of scientists like Eugen Fischer, an anthropologist but also a representative of racial hygiene—that the ethnological collections on display at the Humboldt Forum are problematic. In ethnology, a central driving force has been “othering,” the deliberate and judgmental differentiation of one group—to which one was bound with a feeling of belonging—from other groups. Yet, how do matters stand regarding the disciplines addressed above, those belonging to antiquity and archaeology, and their seemingly immune status? The ideal of beauty stemming from Winckelmann is too firmly canonized, too untouchable that the attribution of diversity instead of “noble simplicity” and clamor instead of “quiet greatness” could work out. Who would go to a museum to learn that the Greek ideal type based on Winckelmann served anthropologists up to the Nazi era as a foundation for the standardization of racial hierarchies, in which darker “human races” were placed far below white people that were at the top of the development?

26 See https://www.theartnewspaper.com/news/cultural-heritage-officials-condemntrump-sthreats-against-iranian-sites (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020).

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Fig. 3: Ernst Haeckel: Natürliche Schöpfungsgeschichte (i.e., Natural History of Creation). Berlin 1868. https://de.m. wikipedia.org / wiki / Datei:Ernst_Haeckel_-_Nat%C3%BCrliche_Sch%C3 % B6pfungsgeschichte_1868.jpg (Public Domain)

According to Winckelmann, the superiority of the Greeks was based, above all, on their “beautiful blood.” Due to the resulting “perfect form” of their bodies, European populations were superior: in ancient times to the people of Egypt and in modern times to the populations of Africa and Asia. 27 Such legacies particularly live on in craniology. The Jena race theorist Ernst Haeckel publicized in his “Natural History of Creation” twelve heads drawn “in pure profile view” to illustrate a gradual development. The Jena Declaration against racism of September 2019 shows how institutions can admit to having been involved in the construction of “human races” and, what’s more, explicitly distance themselves from such thinking. 28 Suppose permanent exhibitions of ancient collections do not

27 Johann Joachim Winckelmann: Gedanken über die Nachahmung der griechischen Werke in der Malerey und Bildhauerkunst. Dresden, Leipzig 2nd ed. 1756. 28 https://www.sueddeutsche.de/wissen/genetik-rassen-ueberfremdung-1.4692679?re duced=true; See Wir waren alle mal schwarz. In: Süddeutsche Zeitung, Sept. 24, 2019, https://www.shh.mpg.de/1464654/jenaer-erklaerung (both retrieved Jan. 15,

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explain or historicize the fact that, from the beginning, disciplines such as archaeology have been intimately intertwined with racial theory, antiSemitism, and eugenics and thus have always been marked by prejudice. How do they intend to overcome the bias? Besides Greek statues stylized to the ideal, sculptures from “Ancient Egypt” served Egyptology, heavy on the race-theory-oriented, anthropologically determined side, with the aim of distinguishing the ancient from the contemporary inhabitants of the region. These efforts cumulated in a controversy about whether the “Ancient Egyptians” were a light-skinned “race.” In the 19th century, archaeologists Flinders Petrie, George Robin Gliddon, the latter a race theorist, and others supplied skulls as research material to eugenicists such as Francis Galton. 29 Initially, racial studies were well-established primarily in British Egyptology but repeatedly provoked discussion in Germany—until a völkisch reorientation of Egyptological research took hold in the 1920s and 1930s. 30 In turn, Nazi “race scientists” wanted to know Greeks as the forerunners of the Germanic peoples and thus use them as a demarcation line from other types of people considered genetically inferior. By and large, it was always a matter of proving the superiority of European civilization—modern Europe represented the culmination of a development that found its origins in ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia. 31 Narratives of the “cradle of civilization” and the likes propagated in the Pergamon Museum served to legitimize colonial and imperial expansionist policies, in which archaeology played a significant role. The archaeologists created hierarchies beyond time and space: still, the first association that the finds evoke is linked to Europe today; the region of origin, the inhabitants, or the unskilled laborers who excavated the assets with their own hands do not come to mind initially. 32 The “Ancient Orient” seems to

29 30

31 32

2020). See additionally Martin S. Fischer et al.: Jena, Haeckel und die Frage nach den Menschenrassen oder der Rassismus macht Rassen. In: Zoologie. Mitteilungen der Deutschen Zoologischen Gesellschaft 2020, pp. 7–32. See Debbie Challis: The Archaeology of Race. The Eugenic Ideas of Francis Galton and Flinders Petrie. London 2014. See Susanne Voss: Die Geschichte der Abteilung Kairo des DAI, Vol. 2. Rahden 2017, pp. 16–19 and 41–63; Susanne Voss: Wissenshintergründe – die Ägyptologie als völkische Wissenschaft entlang des Nachlasses Georg Steindorffs. In: Susanne Voss, Dietrich Raue (Eds.): Georg Steindorff und die deutsche Ägyptologie im 20. Jahrhundert. Wissenshintergründe und Forschungstransfers. Berlin, Boston 2016; Thomas L. Gertzen: Einführung in die Wissenschaftsgeschichte der Ägyptologie. Berlin 2017; Marchand (note 5). See Zainab Bahrani: Conjuring Mesopotamia. Imaginative Geography and a World Past. In: Meskell (note 20), pp. 159–174. See Alice Stevenson: Scattered Finds. Archaeology, Egyptology and Museums. London 2019.

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be unchangingly the ideal vessel to inspire Western myths of origin—and still goes without any reference to the modern realities of the Middle East or the current consequences of Western expansionist policies. 33 Eventually, Oriental exoticism is a last resort. In 2019, an exhibition at the Berlin State Library presented the region’s cultural heritage under the title “One Thousand and One Nights between the Orient and Europe”—in the immediate vicinity of Museum Island. 34 One would have thought that a cultural institution of the 21st century would have historicized and debunked such categories and approaches—after all, the “Orient” is a Western invention—instead of perpetuating them. 35 Yet, the narrative of a progressive development originating in the “cradle of civilization” continued on Museum Island, fitting the presentation of classical antiquity in the Altes Museum like a glove; the Bode Museum adds the next step: Christianity. Lastly, the Alte Nationalgalerie follows suit by presenting its German painting collection in line. During a panel discussion, classics expert Ja´s Elsner remarked: “The center of the old story is a clear line from antiquity to Germany. The addition of an ethnographic or Asian supplement in the old Schloss [sic] does not necessarily look like much of a challenge to that story and could easily be turned into a confirmation of it. That is a real problem.”

Then Elsner added regarding the string of museums on Museum Island: “The very reconfiguration of the current museums is itself potentially a problem. Their current form is well exemplified by the architectural structure and orchestration of the Pergamon Museum, which descends from the post Classical Hellenistic era via the colorful arabesques of the Ishtar Gate and ancient Babylon to end in Islam. One might have preserved this configuration and critiqued its form and ideology explicitly—this would at least have been an option. But instead there will be a reshaping of the building that will have the great advantage of allowing much more into the display, but will effectively adapt the old narrative rather than start again.” 36 33 See Brusius (note 15). 34 https://blog . sbb . berlin / ausstellung - reisende - erzaehlungen - tausendundeine - nacht zwischen-orient-und-europa (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 35 See Sumaya Kassim on the British Museum: http://lucywritersplatform.com/2020/02/ 07/there-is-no-mutual-fascination-why-the-british-museums-inspired-by-the-eastis-not-inspired-at-least-not-to-me-a-heartbroken-muslim-middleeasterner/ (retrieved Febr. 15, 2020). 36 Ja´s Elsner: Commentary on the Humboldt Forum at a panel discussion during the Kosmos Summer School. Berlin 2015 (unpublished). I thank the author for kindly letting me use his manuscript; https://www.smb.museum/en/museums-institutions/ museumsinsel-berlin/about-us/masterplan-museumsinsel.html (retrieved Jan. 15, 2020). See also Memory Cultures 2.0. and Museums. Ja´s Elsner in Conversation with Mirjam Sarah Brusius. In: German Historical Institute London Bulletin 22 (2022) No. 2, pp. 99–111.

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According to Elsner, it is almost disturbing that institutions on Museum Island still propagate a Euro- and Germanocentric worldview from the Wilhelmine Empire, a kind of antiquated ethnography that would run deeply counter to any efforts in “decolonizing” by the Humboldt Forum. His finds testify to the unbroken continuity of these narratives beyond 1945. Even the choice of a Jewish namesake, James Simon, for the latest annex building on Museum Island, the neoclassical Gallery, cannot detract from the fact that next door, one of Berlin’s most important museums was knowingly renamed after the avowed anti-Semite von Bode, when it reopend in 2006. 37 To stave off addressing these racial doctrines’ direct consequences in the Nazi period is to avoid the elephant in the room. Elsner knows this all too well since his family had to flee at the time. Nonetheless, it is widely ignored that people still experience the actual consequences of these theories daily. There is more to it than the fact that these ideologies have not disappeared: they are gaining momentum. In her latest publication Superior: The Return of Race Science, Journalist Angela Saini addresses that 19th-century racial theories still influence biological research. Moreover, the growing interest in misleading DNA testing reflects their rising popularity. 38 That is dangerous. Hence, although it is scientifically established that the idea of biological “human races” is untenable, pushback is building up, and the leaning finds its backers not only among white supremacists. Shouldn’t museums engage in broad educational work when faced with such disturbing developments? What would be the argument against transforming Museum Island into a place of education against racism (with free admission, of course) when it is in the process of change and reconstruction anyway? One shouldn’t lightly dismiss such a suggestion as crazy. The Tropenmuseum (i.e., Museum of the Tropics) in Amsterdam took the opportunity of an exhibition about the slave trade to address its consequences today: the unbroken discrimination against Black and People of Color (BpoC). 39 Besides, under the reign of Frederick William I, Brandenburg-Prussia was also involved in the slave trade. 40 In the United

37 https://blog.smb.museum/wilhelm-von-bode-kunsthistoriker-und-sammler-aus-lei denschaft/; https://www.berliner-zeitung.de/mensch-metropole/wilhelm-bode-be deutendes-berliner-museum-traegt-namen-eines-antisemiten-li.51374 (both retrieved Dec. 1, 2020) 38 See Angela Saini: Superior: The Return of Race Science. New York 2019. 39 See https://www . tropenmuseum . nl / en / whats - on / exhibitions / afterlives - slavery; https://www.museolasamericas.org/ (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 40 The media debate on the German slave trade began just recently. See, for example, https://www.planet-wissen.de/geschichte/menschenrechte/sklaverei/pwiewis sensfrage604.html (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020).

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Kingdom, curator Subhadra Das made the origins of race theories the subject of her campus tours at University College London. According to Das, museums and laboratories were brewhouses for hierarchal race theorems in the 19th century. Such delusions, she explains, built the basis for the violent ideologies of the British Empire—and the discriminatory consequences for the descendants of former colonies’ inhabitants in the 21st century. 41 Museums elsewhere meet expectations to come to terms with their past. German museums could seize an opportunity here to reposition themselves in society. However, the undertaking would not be easy in Germany—notably, not despite, but because of the Holocaust and its commemoration in the last decades. In Germany, the term “race” has clear-cut connotations and is automatically associated with National Socialism. Therefore, until the Black Lives Matter movement in 2020 in reaction to the violent death of George Floyd, few discussions in Germany were comparable to the discourse in the U.S. In North America, “race” is part of any debate’s permanent soundtrack. On the one hand, various controversies broach the issue of “race” as a social construct; on the other, the notion of “race” is currently strongly fueled by ideologies of white supremacy—meanwhile, grown into a cause of alarm for those concerned. Even after the Black Lives Matter protests became well-known, it took some time before Germany turned its gaze away from the U.S. and to its own societal situation. On the very weekend when people gathered in Berlin to protest racism in Germany, the Humboldt Forum’s dome became adorned with a cross—at a point when symbols and monuments of white supremacy were torn down in many places in Europe. Just why? 42 The outgrowth of sciences that emerged and took shape during the Wilhelmine Empire continues to affect German society to this day—and no less German museums and research institutions. To stay with the example of archaeology: Who are the people that soil their hands during excavations? Who has the interpretive authority over the finds? 43 What rates as valuable information? And subsequently, one might ask: Who dares to enter a museum? Are there groups of people predominant in the total quantity of visitors? And who stays out?

41 See https://www.ucl.ac.uk/culture/projects/bricks-mortals (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 42 See https://news.artnet.com/opinion/humboldt-forum-cross-issue-1884378 (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 43 See Stephen Quirke: Hidden Hands: Egyptian Workforces in Petrie Excavation Archives, 1880–1924. Bristol 2010.

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In 2018, a film sequence addressed these questions. 44 In the film Black Panther, Erik “Killmonger” Stevens (Michael B. Jordan) stands in front of a case displaying African objects in the fictional Museum of Great Britain, a reference to the British Museum. “Wherefrom did your ancestors get these objects? Do you think they paid a fair price for them?” Killmonger wants to know from the director. A curator of African art said at a recent panel discussion in Washington, “I think we’ve all had our ‘Black Panther moment.’” After all, it’s not just about restitution, she said, but also about the fact that museums don’t welcome those visitors whose cultural objects are on display. 45 There was no “Black Panther Moment” in Germany. So far, the debaters have neglected a subject in the discussion about the Humboldt Forum: the exclusion of people who have the impression that they have no place in museums. However, racist patterns still exist, evident in schwellenangst, the fear of trying something new (visiting a museum), and discriminatory hiring practices. Pretty much as “the Orient” is always in the past– at best, time-transcending exotic—and never modern, museums are still exclusive and, above all, a white domain—both in front of and behind the scenes. Even if refugees take over the positions of guides in tours—an option, Multaka and other well-intentioned participatory projects have showcased –, 46 a critical boost in credibility can’t come about. Admittedly, it is the first step when one finds European imperial politics, oftentimes the cause of conflicts and forced migration, reflected on the walls of the exhibition spaces. Still, museums stave off the next big step when they hire permanent curators and won’t opt for experts who bring a background from the respective region. And they do so notwithstanding that such experts would be more concerned about political realities worldwide—thus attracting an even more diverse audience. In London, people working in the museum and cultural heritage sector have launched Museum Detox, a network for people of color. 47 In Germany, only a tiny number of people could join such a network. 48 Nevertheless, the Humboldt Forum’s recruitment strategy has become the target of continuing criticism: its

44 See https://news.artnet.com/art-world/black-panther-museum-heist-restitution1233278 (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 45 The German Historical Institute Washington hosted a panel discussion in Oct. 2019. See https://www.si.edu/sites/default/files/unit/OIR/prep-dc_oct_26_panel_ discussion_at_ghi.pdf (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 46 See https://multaka.de/projekt/ (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 47 See https://www.museumdetox.org/(retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 48 Nevertheless, an initiative is in the planning stage: the New German Museum Makers project will follow the examples of Museum Detox and the New German Media Makers. See https://www.neuemedienmacher.de/ (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020).

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personnel policy is not only too male-oriented but also too white. 49 What is the reason for this? Do the recruiters responsible want to allow the absurd conclusion that other applicants are “less qualified”? For many, the connection between racial research in museums then and discrimination now is less obvious. The accusation of racist thought patterns usually evokes strong defenses. Typically, one might hear as a response that the institution acts toward everyone in the spirit of equality after all. 50 However, for others, discrimination is a day-to-day experience. Museum Detox provides the setting for members to talk about the daily consequences of age-old racist reservations handed down over centuries and new fears evoked when, for example, the Albertinum in Dresden recently invited AfD members for talks. 51 As tests on perception distortions prove, no one is free of prejudice—a statement Alice Hasters has recently substantiated in her book titled Things white people don’t want to hear about racism but should know. 52 Yet, neither “unconscious bias training,” 53 which hardly anyone acknowledges in Germany, nor anonymized job applications bring the solution. Indeed, one might object when considering the home market: Where should a multitude of diverse applicants for the German curatorial sector come from anyway? At the latest, on the occasion of the Humboldt Forum’s foundation, the question of who owns the sovereignty of interpretation regarding museums’ collections is back on the table. The Humboldt Forum and other projects that want to approach collection histories critically will continually have their credibility queried as long as established structures persist that prevent a profound change in personnel and methods. However, museums cannot solve the problem by applying unilateral efforts. To date, universities have not addressed the lack of diversity in the studentry; still, they are qualifying the curators of tomorrow. As long as both lecturers 49 See https://www.monopol-magazin.de/humboldt-forum-weiss-maennlich-kommen tar; https://www.deutschlandfunkkultur.de/raubkunst-im-humboldt-forum-hausderweissen-herren.3682.de.html?dram:article_id=451366 (both retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 50 Deniz Utlus expressed on Deutschlandfunk: “There is a major difference when it comes to evaluating the statement that skin color does not matter. Does the remark refer to a utopian dream that gives us orientation? Or is it a description of the actual state of affairs?,” https://www.deutschlandfunkkultur.de/rassismus-undidentitaetspolitik-warum-hautfarbe-keine.2165.de.html?dram:article_id=468914 (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 51 See https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2020/jan/07/how-to-fight-the-farrightinvite-them-in-the-german-museum-taking-on-hate (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 52 See Alice Hasters: Was weiße Menschen nicht über Rassismus hören wollen: aber wissen sollten. Berlin 2019. See additionally Reni Eddo-Lodge: Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People about Race. London 2017. 53 See https://implicit.harvard.edu/implicit/selectatest.html (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020).

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and curricula are predominantly white, the target groups will not easily find their way into the classroom. In Germany, a fundamental debate on the decolonization of the curriculum is long overdue, yet it is an essential part of future discussions. 54 In other countries, the curricula instantly became scrutinized when the museum debates gained momentum. The discussion and surveys in the U.K. revealed, for instance, that people whose parents migrated from the former British colonies are more likely to enroll in courses if they identify descendants of immigrants among the lecturers, find seminars on migration on offer in the curriculum, or non-Western authors on bibliographies. Besides history, other disciplines, such as Classics, have now entered the debate, in particular on the international stage. 55 The central concerns of the U.S. movement promoting more diversity are yet incomprehensible for some and raise fears that “reverse racism” might now be at work; a problematic catchphrase since racism presupposes historically evolved unequal power relations. 56 As knowledge about racism is not yet as commonly discussed and taught in the media and education in Germany, pointing out knowledge gaps can result in (yet) more racism, especially when BPoC bring up the subject. Concerns about “reverse racism,” however, seem also unfounded. In Germany, white scholars almost exclusively lead projects on Black studies or slavery, restitution, and colonial history. In 2021, the position of the internationally distinguished Jewish-Turkish professor of Islamic art and museum history, Wendy Shaw, expired at Free University without any prospect of renewal. Since there are hardly any historians with diverse cultural roots, this should spark a serious debate, at least in cities with a high proportion of migrants like Berlin. It stands out as another surprise that despite a long history of immigration, the subject “Turkish Studies”—unlike those subjects taught at the UK’s famous School of Oriental and African Studies—has not gained importance.

54 See John Giblin, Imma Ramos, Nikki Grout: Dismantling the Master’s House. Third Text. DOI: 10.1080/09528822.2019.1653065, see https://www.theguardian.com/edu cation/2019/mar/20/academics-its-time-to-get-behind-decolonising-the-curriculum (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 55 https://www.nytimes.com/2021/02/02/magazine/classics-greece-rome-whiteness. html (retrieved Dec. 15, 2022). 56 See https://www . faz . net / aktuell / feuilleton / debatten / debatte - um - us - altertums wissenschaften-weisse-gelehrte-unerwuenscht-17070600.html, https://www.faz.net/ aktuell/karriere-hochschule/hoersaal/die-postkoloniale-kritik-erfasst-die-altertums wissenschaft-16504106.html. See additionally regarding “reverse racism” https:// www . tagesspiegel . de / kultur / der - grosse - unterschied - es - gibt - keinen - rassismus gegen-weisse/25893440.html (both retrieved Dec. 1, 2020).

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Research proposals aiming at methodologically framed decolonizing practices and personnel diversification have little chance of success, even commission members admit. And those who do manage to submit applications despite the discouragement and get their non-European research projects rejected encounter that the reasons given bring serious structural problems to light. Frequently, reviews implicitly reveal an often unconscious and yet historically engrained mistrust towards researchers with roots in the regions to be studied, questioning their ability to deal objectively with their own history. 57 In one case reviewers expressed concern that the project staff would be difficult to recruit because “double qualifications” were rare; the requirements detail the prerequisite university degrees and fluency in the region’s language. Instead of native speakers who or whose families have migrated to Europe, the committee members seemed to have unconsciously visualized their domestic student body as the primary target group, assuming that this group would be predominantly white and not multilingual. Furthermore, the committee seemed not to have considered staff recruitment in the relevant region. 58 These are just a few examples of institutional discrimination that provide insight into possible reasons why individuals might be “left behind” on curatorial careers or the path to professorship. One might wonder if these examples are isolated cases. Studies show that a low social background, including migration as a factor, reduces the chances of successful career paths on the way to professorship to a vast extent: “Social background is a cross-gender issue and must always be included with regard to other social dimensions such as migration background or disabilities, since social background does say a lot about the resources a person can draw from, after all. [. . . ] At that point, the dimension of social origin is particularly in focus and under consideration in close connection with gender and migration.” 59 57 See Dimitra Dermitzaki, Alina Goldbach, Nuriani Hamdan, Ali Konyali, Hanna Mai, Saboura Naqshband, and Bahar Oghalai: Who Remains (Part 1). Before we even start our research, https://ghil.hypotheses.org/265 (retrieved Dec. 15, 2022). 58 The author’s collected data—interviews with anonymous BPoC researchers and anonymous reviews of research proposals—confirm this assessment. In most of the cases assessed, attempts to challenge the reviews remained unanswered by the respective funding institutions. 59 Christina Möller: Als Arbeiterkind zur Professur? Wissenschaftliche Karrieren und soziale Herkunft. In: Forschung & Lehre (2014) No. 6, pp. 372–374. Since the Black Lives Matter movement, racism has become more of an issue in German academia. See the blog Race, History, and Academia, https://ghil.hypotheses.org/category/ dialogue/race-history-academia and the science online portal L. I. S.A, https://lisa. gerda-henkel-stiftung.de/rassismus_und_geschichtswissenschaft_morina_frei (both retrieved Dec. 1, 2020).

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However, providing convincing evidence is almost impossible as there is a lack of data in Germany. More detailed research on discrimination mechanisms among BPoC, immigrants, and their descendants presupposes a substantial database with facts as, for example, provided by the Race and Ethnicity Report of the Royal Historical Society. 60 Of course, those phenomena’s impact is only in part a consequence of institutional failings to address discrimination. Policies that prioritize integration and adaptation over diversity and variety have significant effects, too. 61 The course of the discussion about the ban on female teachers wearing a headscarf, for example, has shed light on an approach that intends to deprive even elementary school girls, when Muslim, of the opportunity to find role models for pursuing higher career paths one day. 62 Decolonization must not remain a metaphor. 63 It is no help when institutions merely pretend to incorporate ideas developed initially by BPoC into their programming without any real intention to change. 64 By all means, it takes a deep dive into the abyss of institutional structures to move beyond virtue signalling. Human races, once invented at museums and universities, do not exist. Yet, racism is real. Currently, the social relevance of museums is in question. Nonetheless, museums, side by side with the universities, have a unique opportunity now to deconstruct the categories they helped to construct.

60 See https://royalhistsoc.org/racereport/ (retrieved Jan. 15, 2020); see Daniela Heitzmann, Kathrin Houda (Eds.): Rassismus an Hochschulen. Analyse – Kritik – Intervention. Weinheim 2019. 61 See Max Czollek: Desintegriert Euch! Munich 2018; Fatma Aydemir, Hengameh Yaghoobifarah (Eds.): Eure Heimat ist unser Albtraum. Berlin 2019. 62 See https://www.welt.de/politik/deutschland/article199760978/Berlin-GutachtenbestaerktKopftuchverbot-fuer-Lehrerinnen.html (retrieved Dec. 1, 2020). 63 See Eve Tuck, K. Wayne Yang: Decolonizing Is Not a Metaphor. In: Decolonization: Indigeneity, Education & Society 1 (2012) No. 1, pp. 1–40. 64 See, for instance, the Humboldt Forum’s own Call for Contributions ‘The Instrumentalization of Critique’ where criticism was invited yet no honorarium was offered: https://www.humboldtforum.org/en/magazine/article/call-for-contributions-the-in strumentalisation-of-critique/ (retrieved Dec. 15, 2022).

II. Case Studies

Benno Nietzel

Protection of Cultural Property in Europe since the 19th Century between Legalization and Colonial Practice Remarks from a Historical Perspective on the Current Debate

1 A Debate with a History The long-standing debate about colonial cultural property stored in Western museums has recently gained considerable momentum. In November 2018, scholars Felwine Sarr and Bénédicte Savoy argued for farreaching and rapid restitution of cultural property originating from subSaharan Africa to the countries of origin—set out in a comprehensive report commissioned by the French President. 1 This Savoy-Sarr report is the subject of controversy around the world. In April 2018, the German Bundestag’s Committee on Culture held an expert hearing on questions about the restitution of museum objects from colonial contexts. 2 In 2022, after extensive debate, several German cities decided on the return of Benin bronzes stored in public museums to Nigeria. 3 The future of many

1 See Felwine Sarr, Bénédicte Savoy: Rapport sur la restitution du patrimoine culturel africain. Vers une nouvelle éthique relationnelle, Novembre 2018, https://restitution report2018.com; see for a German translation (in the form of a book): Felwine Sarr, Bénédicte Savoy: Zurückgeben. Über die Restitution afrikanischer Kulturgüter. Berlin 2019. 2 See Öffentliche Anhörung des Ausschusses für Kultur und Medien des Deutschen Bundestags zur Rückgabe von kolonialen Kulturgütern aus deutschen Museen (i.e., Public Hearing of the Committee on Culture and the Media: Cultural Policy Reappraisal of Colonial Heritage), Apr. 3, 2019, https://www.bundestag.de/dokumente/ textarchiv/2019/kw14-pa-kultur-medien-631622 (retrieved Aug. 15, 2019). 3 https://www.ndr.de/nachrichten/hamburg/Hamburg-gibt-erste-Benin-Bronzen-anNigeria-zurueck,beninbronzen108.html; https://www1.wdr.de/nachrichten/rhein land/koeln-gibt-benin-bronzen-an-nigeria-zurueck-102.html (both retrieved Dec. 15, 2022).

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other objects remains in dispute. The topic triggered the publication of numerous academic and feature articles. The new dynamics need explanation; hence the issue is not new. The return of colonial art has been a subject of debate in Europe since the 1970s and 1980s. 4 However, a significant factor, at least in Germany, may have been the extensive debate on art looted during the Second World War, which in turn goes back to the 1990s, but has been rekindled in recent years due to the Gurlitt case. 5 In the present debate, one fact has hardly attracted consideration: The currently circulating—and conflicting—arguments, ideas, claims, and concepts for dealing with cultural objects each have their history and originate—in essence—from the 19th century. Therefore, it might be illuminating to ask about their historical genesis. No doubt, in the 19th century, there were only a few actual repatriations, and cultural objects rarely found their way back to their place of origin. However, time and again, claims of transferred cultural assets were disputed and problematized. Many cases, some well-known, elongated, and much-discussed, date back to the 19th century. In contrast to the currently dominating art historical contributions, which mainly concentrate on individual objects or groups of objects and their respective historical paths, i.e., provenances, I will outline some long-standing, overarching lines of development in the following. Hence, I will cover a broad thematic spectrum and discuss the transfer of art and cultural objects in the modern sense, the relocation of assets and excavation finds from European antiquity, and the transferal of things of non-European origin. Markedly, for the latter, the status as cultural objects were not yet established at the time. Opening the historical perspective on the origins of today’s disputes allows for an in-depth discussion and helps to reflect on the debate’s foundations and inherent presuppositions.

4 See Gert von Paczensky, Herbert Ganslmayer: Nofretete will nach Hause. Europa – Schatzhaus der “Dritten Welt“. Munich 1984; Bénédicte Savoy: Africa’s Struggle for Its Art. History of a Post-Colonial Defeat. Princeton 2022; see for numerous individual cases Jeanette Greenfield: The Return of Cultural Treasures. Cambridge 3rd ed. 2007, and for a summarizing approach Ana Filipa Vrdoljak: International Law, Museums and the Return of Cultural Objects. Cambridge 2006; Jos van Beurden: Treasures in Trusted Hands. Negotiating the Future of Colonial Cultural Objects. Leiden 2017. 5 See Christian Welzbacher: Kunstschutz, Kunstraub, Restitution. Neue Forschungen zur Geschichte und Nachgeschichte des Nationalsozialismus. In: H-Soz-Kult, Dec. 13, 2012, www.hsozkult.de / literaturereview / id / forschungsberichte-1296 (retrieved Dec. 15, 2019); Stefan Koldehoff: Die Bilder sind unter uns. Das Geschäft mit der NS-Raubkunst und der Fall Gurlitt. Berlin 2014; Maurice Philip Remy: Der Fall Gurlitt. Die wahre Geschichte über Deutschlands größten Kunstskandal. Berlin 2017.

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2 Cultural Heritage and the Law of War The repatriation of cultural property by the victorious Allied powers after the Napoleonic Wars in 1815 is a significant event regarding cultural restitution. Contrary to reoccurring public assertions, Napoleon is not the trendsetter in this case. The French conquerors’ systematic, stateoperated confiscation of works of art in European states and principalities was more of a stage within a continuum. The development had been underway since the early revolutionary period. At first, the idea of national cultural heritage—born out of the confrontation with revolutionary iconoclasm—took shape. In the early 1790s, the Paris Committee of Public Safety initiated extensive measures to destroy works of art commonly identified with the monarchy and feudal rule. Several revolutionary politicians intervened, invoking the idea of a shared stock of cultural goods. Regardless of their context of origin, such assets would transcend epochs and establish both France’s historical and civilizational greatness. 6 Secondly, under the reign of the Committee of Public Safety, the process of transferring cultural objects from the periphery to the capital, Paris, had already begun. The Committee had some assets transferred from private aristocratic collections to the Louvre to make them accessible to the public. Thirdly, systematically planned confiscations of works of art abroad began as early as the revolution gained momentum. Driving forces were the universalization of the revolutionary ideas and liberal concepts of art, deeply ingrained in them the idea of freedom. France, as the land of freedom, was then obliged to house the most important works of art or to assemble at least a representative section of human artistic and cultural creation in Paris for educational purposes—all in the name of humanity. Eventually, various developments overlapped in the French practice of art theft. Fourthly, Napoleon added a quasi-neo-Antique form of trophy collection that amounted to taking objects from wartime enemies and presenting them at home in triumphal processions. The selection of things aimed to achieve the most significant damage to the enemies’ cultural identity; a prominent example is the demolition and removal of the Quadriga from the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin. 7 6 See Edouard Pommier: L’Art de la liberté. Doctrines et débats de la révolution française. Paris 1991; Dominique Poulot: Musée, Nation, Patrimoine 1789–1815. Paris 1997; Dominique Poulot: Museum und Bildersturm zur Zeit der Französischen Revolution. In: Sigrid Schade, Gottfried Fliedl, Martin Sturm (Eds.): Kunst als Beute. Zur symbolischen Zirkulation von Kulturobjekten. Vienna 2000, pp. 27–43; Alexandra Stara: The Museum of French Monuments 1795–1816. “Killing Art to Make History.” Farnham 2013. 7 See Charles Saunier: Les Conquêtes artistiques de la révolution et de l’Empire. Reprises et abandons des alliés en 1815. Leurs conséquences sur les musées d’Europe.

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Both the incidents comprising the French cultural requisitions and the reactions to them have been intensively researched since the 19th century. At least since the work of Bénédicte Savoy, we know that there were two waves of resonance in the German-speaking countries. While the first confiscations on German territory in the 1790s attracted little public attention, German intellectuals reacted with unanimous disapproval to the extensive seizures of art objects in the Italian states. There was also criticism in France; the best-known figure voicing misgivings was Quatremère de Quincy. In his 1796 memorandum, he sharply criticized the transfer of ancient works from Rome to Paris. He argued that the ancient monuments aggregated into one coherent piece of art in Rome. Removing individual ones would be like tearing pages out of a book; separately, they would make no sense. 8 When the Louvre opened its respective showrooms to the European public, however, the collections met with overwhelming interest, and the public mood in Germany turned. Only after Napoleon’s military defeats, a restitution movement arose in the German states, starting in the Rhineland and directing its efforts at cultural objects and artworks that the French had seized in the short-term départements. The campaigners began to describe the objects as national cultural assets and reclaimed them on this basis. Prussia vigorously pressed for the return of all works of art “abducted” to France. In the summer of 1815, they compelled the French to comply, even by force of arms. 9 At the Congress of Vienna Great Britain addressed the restitution issue by referring to generally accepted legal principles. Moreover, the British Foreign Secretary, Lord Castlereagh, condemned the French practice of confiscating artworks as a violation of the laws of war recognized among civilized states. Then he spoke of the artworks’ indestructible connectedness to their countries of origin. In this context, the Foreign Secretary felt the principle of ownership was the only renowned and fail-safe guiding principle for restoring law. However, the minister did not want to rely entirely on this principle; hence he added that, over and above, the return

Paris 1902; Wilhelm Treue: Kunstraub. Über die Schicksale von Kunstwerken in Krieg, Revolution und Frieden. Duesseldorf 1957; Cecil Gould: Trophy of Conquest. The Musée Napoléon and the Creation of the Louvre. London 1965; Paul Wescher: Kunstraub unter Napoleon. Berlin 1976; Bénédicte Savoy: Kunstraub. Napoleons Konfiszierungen in Deutschland und die europäischen Folgen. Vienna 2011. 8 See Antoine Quatremère de Quincy: Lettres à Miranda sur le déplacement des monuments de l’art de l’Italie. Paris, 3rd extended ed. 2017; see additionally Louis A. Jr. Ruprecht: Classics at the Dawn of the Museum Era. The Life and Times of Antoine Chrysostôme Quatremère de Quincy (1755–1849). Basingstoke 2014. 9 See Savoy (note 7), pp. 151–193.

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of abstracted artworks by the French king would effectively contribute to reconciliation and peace in Europe. 10 Within this framework, most of the tangible foreign artworks returned to their countries of origin. The British and the Germans asserted the principle of inalienable national cultural property against other claims, such as the one of the French government. The French still made a case for a universal cultural heritage represented in humanity’s Central Museum in Paris and denounced tearing apart the collection would be an act of violence and a barbaric Allied deed. However, the national principle was also positioned against formal law insofar as numerous cultural assets had been transferred from the Italian states under peace treaties. Legal transactions of this kind, however, now appeared illegitimate and void. 11 Nevertheless, a closer look at the restitution debate reveals that various aspects got mixed here as well. In August 1815, Joseph Görres, the most renowned public advocate of a comprehensive restitution policy in the German-speaking countries, elaborated his views in the Rheinischer Merkur. When all stolen artworks would have returned from France to their place of origin, there would still be an “unclaimed mass” of works left that had been brought to France “from foreign lands and across seas, like the Egyptian objects, for example.” “Since this mass,” Görres continued, “was the benefit from earlier victories, it naturally falls to the last victors” and should be distributed among them. 12 This proposal broke with the principle of national cultural heritage and enforced the right of military victors to trophies, as far as non-European countries were concerned. On the contrary, the parties involved in a notable restitution case in 1815/16 abandoned the strict principle of origin. During negotiations with France, representatives of the Electoral Palatinate demanded the return of cultural objects taken in previous years and the Bibliotheca Palatina in favor of the Heidelberg University Library. The Palatinate library’s manuscripts and printed works had been seized over the Thirty Years’ War and had found their way to the Vatican. Then Napoleonic troops had 10 See Note remise le 11 Septembre 1815 par le vicomte Castlereagh aux ministres des puissances alliées, et portée sur leur protocole. In: Georg Friedrich de Martens (Eds.): Nouveau recueil des traités d’Alliances, de Paix, de Trêve, de Neutralité, de commerce, de limites, d’échange etc. des Puissances et états de l’Europe, Vol. 2. Goettingen 1818, p. 642. 11 See Dorothy M. Quynn: The Art Confiscations of the Napoleonic Wars. In: American Historical Review 50 (1945), pp. 437–460; Franca Zuccoli: Le ripercussioni dei trattato di Tolentino sull’attività diplomatica di Antonio Canova nel 1815, per recupero de le opere d’arte. In: Ideologie e patrimonio storico-culturale nell’età rivoluzionaria e napoleonica. A proposito del trattato di Tolentino. Rom 2000, pp. 611–631. 12 Joseph Görres: Die Zurücknahme der Kunst und wissenschaftlichen Werke. In: Rheinischer Merkur No. 279, Aug. 8, 1815, pp. 1–2.

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them brought to Paris. However, the special representative for reclaiming artworks appertaining to the Vatican’s property, the sculptor Antonio Canova, was open to the argument that a collection, accumulated over an impressive historical timespan and consistently themed, should be reunited at its original location. He, therefore, arranged for the return of at least the German-language holdings to Heidelberg. 13 All in all, the negotiations on repatriating confiscated cultural goods from France at the Congress of Vienna thus had inconsistent and, in part, contradictory results. In any case, the debate as such is of paradigmatic importance for the following legal development regarding the handling of cultural property in armed conflicts, which can only be touched upon here. As a negative example, the Napoleonic art theft supplied the background against which the international laws of war reached the point of codification during the 19th century. 14 Besides, there is a remarkable transatlantic dimension to this—and at the focal point: Berlin-born Francis Lieber (1800–1872). A young volunteer for Prussia, Lieber had fought in the Napoleonic Wars (Seventh Coalition). However, during the Vormärz period, the national-liberal German suffered political persecution and immigrated to the United States in 1827. In the following years, he became a founder of American political science and an inventor of international law. He drafted his epoch-making contribution to the development of the laws of war in 1863 once President Lincoln had made him a legal advisor during the American Civil War. His draft, now known as the Lieber Code, aimed to regulate the conduct of the Northern army in armed combat. 15 The orders turned out to be the first ever written codified legal framework for warfare. Lieber’s conception of material goods is of particular importance for the topic of cultural restitution. He considered material goods that served culture, education, and science a separate category of property. Hence these goods should be off-limits in the course of hostilities, and when seized by military conquerors, they could not become the victors’ property until a peace treaty settled the pertaining questions.

13 See Erik Jayme: Antonio Canova (1757–1822) als Künstler und Diplomat. Zur Rückkehr von Teilen der Bibliotheca Palatina nach Heidelberg in den Jahren 1815 und 1816. Heidelberg 1994. 14 See Ludwig Engstler: Die territoriale Bindung von Kulturgütern im Rahmen des Völkerrechts. Cologne 1963; Christoff Jenschke: Der völkerrechtliche Rückgabeanspruch auf in Kriegszeiten widerrechtlich verbrachte Kulturgüter. Berlin 2005; John H. Merryman, Albert E. Elsen: Law, Ethics, and the Visual Arts. Den Haag 2002. 15 See Theodor Meron: Francis Lieber’s Code and Principles of Humanity. In: Columbia Journal of Transnational Law 36 (1998), pp. 269–281; Richard S. Hartigan: Lieber’s Code and the Law of War. Chicago 1983.

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The Lieber Code was particularly influential; a few years later, Swiss international law scholar Johann Caspar Bluntschli included its provisions in the first systematic compilation of the international law of wars. The compilation reads as follows: “The schools, the libraries, the laboratories, and the collections are founded for the purposes of education and science. For this very reason, as the American Rules of War express it (§ 34) [the paragraph refers to the Lieber Code, B.N.], they are not to be considered public property within the meaning of the laws of war and are not to be alienated from their purposes. The theft of art treasures and monuments, a common practice in the revolutionary wars at the beginning of this century, meanwhile appears to the public conscience as offensive and unlawful—based on [the understanding that] these things [i.e., the institutions’ chattels] have no close relation to the state and the war, but serve the peaceful culture of the enduring nation.” 16

From Bluntschli’s work, it is only a small step toward the provisions of the 1899 Hague Convention and its Regulations Respecting the Laws and Customs of War on Land. The regulations prohibit any deliberate removal, destruction, or damage of historical monuments and works of art and science. The instructions established in international law what had already been accepted practice in continental Europe in the second half of the 19th century. A well-known example of postwar compensating practices regarding destructed cultural properties was the case of the library in Leuven, Belgium. Invading German troops had set the library on fire at the beginning of the First World War. Under the Treaty of Versailles, the German Empire later compensated for the damage in the form of manuscripts and library holdings rated equivalent. 17

3 Archaeology in Non-European Regions and National Cultural Heritage After the Napoleonic Wars and closely related to the wars’ events, a legalization process regarding the transnational handling of cultural properties began. While directly concerned with goods captured in military conflicts, the evolving regulations also changed perceptions in other areas. The probably most famous and, to this day, most discussed example of

16 Johann Capar Bluntschli: Das moderne Völkerrecht der civilisierten Staaten als Rechtsbuch dargestellt. Nördlingen 1868, p. 37. See additional Betsy Röben: Johann Caspar Bluntschli, Francis Lieber und das moderne Völkerrecht 1861–1881. Baden-Baden 2003. 17 See Wolfgang Schivelbusch: Die Bibliothek von Löwen. Eine Episode aus der Zeit der Weltkriege. Munich and Vienna 1988.

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cultural property transferred in Europe in the 19th century is the case of the so-called Elgin Marbles. The marble sculptures, parts of the Athenian Parthenon Temple, were removed from the building around 1800 by the British envoy Thomas Bruce, Earl of Elgin. He had received written permission from the Ottoman authorities to carry out archaeological research and collecting on the temple site. The work took several months, then the envoy had the parts shipped to his homeland and finally sold them to the British Museum in 1816. Already during the ship transport, word spread in Europe, and critical voices rose, qualifying the transferral of the temple parts as a barbaric act. 18 The discussion eventually reached the British Parliament. The members of a promptly formed Select Committee of the House of Commons inquired whether the purchase and shipment of the pieces were legal. Since the Earl of Elgin and his legal counsel were able to point to written permission documents—which, however, said nothing about dismantling parts of the building and were not even presented in the original—the committee finally concluded: the purchase and thus also the acquisition by the British Museum were lawful. 19 The British government adheres to this legal position to the present day. While the Elgin Marbles were objects of Greek antiquity, awareness of the need to protect antiquities of non-European origin was only gradually gaining ground, exemplified particularly clearly in the case of Egypt. The Napoleonic military expedition in 1798 resulted from a growing European interest in the region’s antiquities; the excursion, in turn, substantially fueled the public interest. However, after their military defeat, the French had to cede many cultural objects they had collected to the British. Pieces such as the so-called Rosetta Stone found their way to the British Museum and are still on display today. In the first half of the 19th century, British and French representatives in Ottoman-ruled Egypt engaged in a veritable race to acquire the most spectacular archaeological collection trophies, the finds destined for the respective central national museum, the Louvre or the British Museum. 20 One argument frequently put forward was the following: Exporting objects to Europe would save them from destruction 18 See William St. Clair: Lord Elgin and the Marbles. Oxford 1983; Greenfield (note 3), pp. 41–96; John H. Merryman (Ed.): Imperialism, Art and Restitution. Cambridge 2006; John H. Merryman: Thinking About the Elgin Marbles. Critical Essays on Cultural Property, Art and Law. Alphen 2009. 19 See Report from the Select Committee on the Earl of Elgin’s Collection of Sculptured Marbles. London 1816. 20 See Holger Hoock: The British State and the Anglo-French Wars Over Antiquities 1798–1858. In: The Historical Journal 50 (2007), pp. 49–72; Suzanne L. Marchand: The Dialectics of the Antiquities Rush. In: Annick Fenet, Natacha Lubtchansky (Eds.): Pour une histoire de l’archéologie XVIIIe siècle—1945. Festschrift Ève Gran-Aymerich. Bordeaux 2015, pp. 191–206.

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or decay since there was hardly any infrastructure in Egypt under the rule of Governor Muhammad Ali Pasha for preserving and caring for ancient Egyptian cultural monuments. However, commercial interests also played a significant role, as many expeditions were refinanced or made a profit by selling finds in Europe. The developing market for Egyptian antiquities also led to numerous European tourists traveling to the country in search of treasures and mementos. Frequently, the coveted objects were not primarily sought after for their artistic or cultural value but their exotic or macabre character, such as mummies. The demand from Europe increased the search for ancient tombs, and their looting became an industry in its own right. Widely ramified trade networks emerged, extensive production of fake antiquities in tow. 21 Determined to counter the rampant destruction and looting, the Egyptian government enacted a law in 1835 that prohibited the export of any ancient objects and banned all ongoing excavation activities for the time being. What’s more, the authorities ordered that all antiquities in state possession or yet to be unearthed were to be brought to Cairo. Assembled under one roof, they would be properly stored and displayed. 22 However, these regulations were not enforced particularly vigorously. Only one year later, the famous obelisk, still towering over the Place de la Concorde in Paris today, was shipped to France. The situation changed gradually when the Egyptian antiquities administration came under French influence. Finally, in 1858, Egyptologist Auguste Mariette was appointed head of the Service des Antiquités de l’Egypte. 23 In a way, Mariette adapted European concepts of cultural property protection and national cultural heritage to the situation in Egypt. He tried for more consistent enforcement of the export ban and sought control over ongoing excavations. Furthermore, he founded a central museum 21 See Peter France: Der Raub der Nofretete. Die Plünderung Ägyptens durch Europa. Munich 1995; Suzanne L. Marchand: Down from Olympus. Archaeology and Philhellenism in Germany 1750–1970. Princeton 1996; Donald M. Reid: Whose Pharaohs? Archaeology, Museums and Egyptian National Identity from Napoleon to World War I. Berkeley 2002; Margarita Diaz-Andreu: A World History of Nineteenth-Century Archaeology. Nationalism, Colonialism and the Past. Oxford 2007; Elliott Colla: Conflicted Antiquities. Egyptology, Egyptomania, Egyptian Modernity. Durham 2007. 22 See Ordonnance du 15 août 1835 portant mesures de protection des antiquités. In: Antoine Khater: Le régime juridique des fouilles et des antiquités en Égypte. Cairo 1960, pp. 271–273; see for an additional comment https://translanth.hypotheses.org/ ueber/ali-pascha (retrieved Dec. 15, 2019). 23 See Élisabeth David: Der Antikendienst vor 1914. Paradoxe einer “französischen” Verwaltung. In: Charlotte Trümpler (Ed.): Das große Spiel. Archäologie und Politik zur Zeit des Kolonialismus (1860–1940). Cologne 2010, pp. 494–503; Thomas L. Gertzen: Einführung in die Wissenschaftsgeschichte der Ägyptologie. Berlin 2017.

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of Egyptian antiquities in the Cairo district of Boulaq, the forerunner of today’s Egyptian National Museum. When Egyptian treasures from burial sites displayed at the Paris world’s fair in 1867 attracted covetous glances from the French royal family, Mariette vigorously campaigned for the return of the pieces to Egypt. The example of Egypt thus shows that the objects transferred from the Nile to Europe had an unclear status for a long time, and perceptions fluctuated seeing in them purely exotic collection trophies, scientific research objects, and genuinely recognized works of art. Even the increasing legalization of the protection of cultural property since the second half of the 19th century could not prevent the uncontrolled transfer of finds out of the country. Eventually, objects such as the bust of Nefertiti, discovered in 1912 and transferred to Germany, were subject to claims for restitution immediately after their presentation. 24

4 Colonial Othering and Benin Art While the European concept of protecting cultural objects was effectively exported to Egypt, evidently, a red line was drawn in genuinely colonial contexts: the idea did not apply to such cases. The most prominent examples were the objects that arrived in Europe in 1897 and came from the Kingdom of Benin, present-day Nigeria. One finds these objects often at the center of the current German controversy. They are referred to as representing pars pro toto the problem of colonial art, although their case is special in many respects. However, the so-called “Benin bronzes” clearly show how a complex mixture of appropriation and othering was at work when it came to colonial cultural property. The well-known historical background to the looting of Benin City was a dispute over sovereign rights and regional trade routes between the British colonial power—the area had belonged to the British sphere of influence since the Berlin West Africa Conference of 1884/85—and the rulers of the Kingdom of Benin. When the colonial authorities learned that members of a British delegation were captured and killed in 1897, they dispatched a punitive expeditionary force. The troops conquered Benin City a few weeks later, forcibly expelling the king. In the days that followed, they extensively looted the city and the king’s palace. The spoils were partly shipped as British state property and partly distributed to

24 See Bénédicte Savoy (Ed.): Nofretete. Eine deutsch-französische Affäre 1912–1931. Cologne 2011.

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the expedition members. In this way, probably several thousand objects entered the European and later the American art trade and finally ended up in state museums, especially the British Museum and the Berlin Museum für Völkerkunde (i.e., literally Museum for the Sciences of Peoples, the former German term for ethnology). 25 The coincidence is striking: While legal experts were drafting rules to protect cultural property during international wars in Europe, these aspects played no role in punitive expeditions to Africa. 26 Indeed, even the sale of captured objects was planned to re-finance the expedition’s costs from the outset. Othering was at work at two levels here, constructing the events in Benin as categorically different from present-time Western Europe: Firstly, the military expedition was euphemized as a campaign against human sacrifices customary in Benin City. This way, the punitive action appeared as a just war, and the narrative portrayed the enemies as inhumane and brutal barbarians. Secondly, the booty was not, or at least not a priori, considered cultural property. After all, the spoils consisted, to a large extent, of ivory stocks. The looters could turn both raw materials and bronze objects into money. In this respect, the status of the Benin objects as high-quality cultural products was not the motive for their looting. At least initially, it was a matter of collecting trophies and mementos, which seemed worthwhile and exotic, among other things, because some of them would be associated with rituals of human sacrifice. Still, in the eyes of those who added Benin objects to their collections in Europe, they were not considered works of art but rather ethnographic objects helpful in studying their African culture of origin. Yet, the primary scholars couldn’t help but notice the exceptional artistry and the objects’ aesthetic quality. That was tantamount to detaching the bronzes from their cultural context and imposing the European-Western understanding of art on them. Over a considerable period, scholars debated under which European influences Benin art could have emerged since many contemporaries could not imagine such high-quality objects could have

25 See Reginald H. Bacon: Benin. The City of Blood. London 1897; Robert Home: City of Blood Revisited. A New Look at the Benin Expedition of 1897. London 1982; Salome Kiwara-Wilson: Restituting Colonial Plunder. In: Depaul Journal of Art, Technology and Intellectual Property Law 23 (2013), pp. 375–425; Staffan Lundén: Displaying Loot. The Benin Objects and the British Museum. Archaeological Thesis Gothenburg University 2016; Dan Hicks: The British Museums. The Benin Bronzes, Colonial Violence and Cultural Restitution. London 2020. 26 Frédéric Mégret: From ‘Savages’ to ‘Unlawful Combatants’: A Postcolonial Look at International Humanitarian Law’s ‘Other’. In: Anne Orford (Ed.): International Law and its Others. Cambridge 2006, pp. 265–317.

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originated in indigenous African traditions alone. 27 Thus, we can observe a rapid succession of moves that decontextualize and re-contextualize the Benin objects resulting in their ambivalent position. They were granted recognized status as high-quality art by European standards; regardless, there was no reflection on their status as cultural objects worthy of protection. Instead, they were incorporated into the national cultural arsenal in Britain, Germany, and elsewhere, and the situation hasn’t changed.

5 Some Conclusions and Proposals By and large, in 19th-century Europe, the emerging approaches to statutorily regulate the handling of cultural property resulted in a heterogeneous field of juridification. On the one hand, cultural property protection developed into a recognized legal practice that was legally codified and included established restitution mechanisms. On the other hand, this development was subject to a graded center-periphery hierarchy along imperial and colonial power asymmetries. Moreover, in the 19th century, competing principles of entitlement emerged concerning cultural property; however, they all invoked the idea of cultural property protection more or less in the same way. John H. Merryman, one of the world’s leading experts on art law, distinguishes between two principles, a universalistic and cosmopolitical, for one, and a national principle for the other. 28 Protecting cultural assets on behalf of all humanity, regardless of location and ownership details, is to act on the cosmopolitical principle. The other principal rests on the concept of national cultural goods, worthy of protection as such, which, therefore, should not be taken beyond the “home state’s” borders. Merryman sees each principle enshrined in one of the relevant international legal conventions on international cultural property protection since 1945. The 1954 Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict is based on the cosmopolitical principle. The UNESCO Convention on the Illicit Transfer of Cultural Property, adopted in 1970 but only reluctantly ratified by a certain number of states,

27 See Elazar Barkan: Aesthetics and Evolution. Benin Art in Europe. In: African Arts 30 (1997) No. 3, pp. 36–41; Rebekka Habermas: Benin Bronzen im Kaiserreich – oder warum koloniale Objekte so viel Ärger machen. In: Historische Anthropologie 25 (2017), pp. 327–352; Sabine Schulze, Silke Reuther: Raubkunst? Die Bronzen aus Benin im Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe Hamburg. Hamburg 2018. 28 See John H. Merryman: Two Ways of Thinking About Cultural Property. In: Merryman (note 18), pp. 82–107.

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articulates the national principle. 29 In the long-term perspective, however, it becomes apparent that the clear-cut line distinguishing these principles does not exist. Indeed, the cosmopolitical principle often invoked today is a principle that, historically, has been closely interwoven with imperial appropriation, in practice aimed at increasing national prestige. In 2002, leading Western museums aimed to reformulate the cosmopolitical principle for the 21st century in the Declaration on the Importance and Value of Universal Museums; however, the attempt overlooks these historical contexts and burdens. 30 On the other hand, one has to concede that deliberate national acts of declaration and appropriation, which in turn have often been historically entirely contingent, constituted, in many instances, the statuses of national cultural property. Predominantly, processes of de- and re-contextualization have made cultural objects national cultural property—seizing them at their place of origin and relocating them to another site played a specific part in some cases. This historical finding opposes all attempts to understand national cultural property in an essentialist way and assess the national factor as a quality inherent to the objects—to make or reject claims on this basis. What can these observations contribute to today’s debate on the restitution of cultural property? The historical genesis of intermingling and intertwining principles of claiming cultural property points to the following: There can be no absolute standard in the debate about the restitution of cultural property, nor is it possible to conduct the discussion without focusing on specific objects or groups of objects. After all, as an essential part of a multilevel approach to trans-locational effects, historical analysis can reveal attribution processes regarding the meaning and significance of these objects in the past and present. However, it seems insufficient to focus exclusively on the historical paths of objects, albeit to contribute to agreements in cases of removal and restitution. Some debaters reflexively refer to the imperative need for provenance research in the current controversy. However, this does not go far enough and is misleading. In essence, provenance research does not provide guidance on the ideal handling of specific objects. The idea’s advocates believe that it is possible to assess for each object individually whether it arrived at its present place of safekeeping legally or illegally, 29 See both the Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict with Regulations for the Execution of the Convention. Den Haag, May 14, 1954, and the Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property. Paris Nov. 14, 1970: http://en.unesco.org (retrieved Dec. 15, 2019). 30 See the Declaration on and Value the Importance of Universal Museums, Dec. 2002 in: Merryman (note 18), pp. 34–36.

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an objective that seems problematic, even irrespective of whether this is reasonably practicable. Besides, which law applied in Vienna in 1815, which one in Cairo in 1850, and which one in Benin in 1897? Legal experts claim to be able to determine this beyond doubt, but these attempts are less than convincing. 31 Therefore, in the future, funding bodies should reorient their support from extensive provenance research to research projects focusing on the history of differing ideas about cultural property protection and the inherent Non-Western-European perspectives. Eventually, such studies should spotlight the historical plurality and often contradictory simultaneity of different discourses and concepts. 32 Eventually, the historical experience of the National Socialist policy of persecution and robbery prevents us from accepting legal positivist positions. The contemporaries’ written laws and, in part, hardly ascertainable legal practices shouldn’t be the yardstick of today’s judgment. Can the process of coming to terms with the Nazi’s art theft set a pattern for thought-out handling of the questions about colonial art? Yes and no. On various occasions, individual parties have made corresponding proposals: Analogous to the Allied restitution regulations of the postwar period, we could declare the entire phenomenon of European colonialism to be a complex of injustices and consequently establish a reversal of the burden of proof. 33 Every transfer of ownership in the colonial context would be legally invalid until the opposite is proven. However, whether such a comprehensive approach would be easy to enforce or sufficiently practicable is far from certain. Besides, such a proposition would signal support for a certain policy of remembrance. In the processes that tried to secure reparation for acts of Nazi injustice regularly arose the difficulty to mark down the boundaries between genuine Nazi injustice and actions that would not qualify as out of the “ordinary” checked against the day-to-day circumstances in pre-war years or wartime. Apart from that, such assessments usually involved highly controversial

31 See e.g., John Merryman on the case of the Elgin Marbles: John H. Merryman: Thinking About the Elgin Marbles. In: Merryman (note 18), pp. 24–63. 32 See, e.g., the relevant contributions in Elazar Barkan, Ronald Bush (Eds.): Claiming the Stones, Naming the Bones. Cultural Property and the Negotiation of National and Ethnic Identity. Los Angeles 2002. 33 See for the situation in post-war Germany e.g. Constantin Goschler: Schuld und Schulden. Die Politik der Wiedergutmachung für NS-Verfolgte seit 1945. Goettingen 2005; Jürgen Lillteicher: Raub, Recht und Restitution. Die Rückerstattung jüdischen Eigentums in der frühen Bundesrepublik. Goettingen 2007.

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statements regarding historization policies. 34 For the centuries of European colonialism, it would not be easy to cope with the corresponding task convincingly. 35 Precisely because strict legal procedures were insufficient in dealing with Nazi plunder, a 1998 international conference on the property legacies of National Socialism adopted the Washington Principles. 36 These rules could serve as a model for regulations on assets seized in colonial times. However, it is crucial to avoid certain misunderstandings that have been circulating. The Washington Principles do not invoke a general obligation to restitute art objects seized during the Nazi era. Still, they aim to create the conditions for entering into a discussion between parties involved about disputable ownership statuses upfront. First and foremost, the recommendations call for an inventory of disputed objects in public collections and the publication of these holdings in generally accessible databases and registers. 37 It seems this would also be a vital step in the case of colonial cultural property and more to the point than advancing in more detailed provenance research. Furthermore, the Washington Principles recognize that, down to the present day and in many cases, the framework of existing legislation does not satisfactorily allow for resolving disputes over Nazi plunder. If one follows these thoughts, it becomes clear that we cannot and should not handle the process of returning cultural property seized in colonial times inadequately and let Western governments choose the form of legal proceedings or final settlements unilaterally. Substantial restitution can only come out of interaction and mutual debate. Therefore, the current concept, the return of an object from A to B, falls short in the first place. If we follow such a limited blueprint, we will miss the opportunity to go beyond conventional restitution concepts and to open up the current discourse for new and different perspectives. 34 See e.g. Hans Günter Hockerts, Claudia Moisel, Tobias Winstel (Eds.): Grenzen der Wiedergutmachung. Die Entschädigung für NS-Verfolgte in West- und Osteuropa. Goettingen 2006. 35 On the attempt to find more precisely defining criteria for situations and constellations stipulating the restitution of colonial object acquisitions see Sarr, Savoy (note 1), pp. 125–127. 36 See Washington Conference Principles on Nazi-Confiscated Art, Dec. 3, 1998. In: Washington Conference on Holocaust-Era Assets. Nov. 30-Dec. 3, 1998. Proceedings. Washington, D.C. 1999, pp. 971 sq. 37 See Gunnar Schnabel, Monika Tatzkow: Nazi Looted Art. Handbuch Kunstrestitution weltweit. Berlin 2007, pp. 192–198; Benno Nietzel: Die Internationalen Holocaust-Konferenzen 1997-2009. Von der Londoner Goldkonferenz zur Theresienstädter Erklärung. In: José Brunner, Constantin Goschler, Norbert Frei (Eds.): Die Globalisierung der Wiedergutmachung. Politik, Moral, Moralpolitik. Goettingen 2013, pp. 150–175.

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Indeed, the most promising option might be to model a prospective concept for restitution on Elazar Barkan’s specific considerations. At the turn of the millennium, the Israeli American historian picked up on the boom in debates about historical injustice and the diverse approaches to dealing with the topic. 38 Barkan skips discussing the material aspects and focuses on the impending negotiation processes. He considers the intensive (direct or mediated) interaction between various groups featuring an intertwined historical path essential for the interacting parties to attain a shared perspective in addressing inflicted injustices, interpreting the past, and deciding on follow-up actions. Following Barkan, the outcome, whether excellent or poor, is less important if the basis for negotiating a settlement is ethical-moral considerations, not formal legal principles. Partial solutions are, therefore, better than no solutions; negotiating an outcome is the superior approach compared with unilateral conditional obligations given upfront. 39 Accordingly, the return of objects by whatever kind of means would only be the last step after a dialogue amenable to all parties. After all, what’s crucial here, is to start the talks.

38 See Elazar Barkan: Völker klagen an. Eine neue internationale Moral. Duesseldorf 2002. 39 See ibid., p. 361; see also the contribution by Lukas H. Meyer to this volume.

Till Förster

Alternatives to Restitution under Consideration Local Perspectives on a Global Problem

1 Introduction The debate is intense on whether the restitution of African art is possible—or expedient. World-renowned African scholars, writers, artists, and numerous intellectuals from all parts of the continent are speaking out. 1 Curiously enough, the voices of those who once made use of these works in their (everyday) life or would encounter them today if the objects were still in Africa are absent from this debate. The local perspective, at least, does not receive the same attention in the unfolding discourse as the transnational views of those who move securely on any parquet. There are many reasons for the local actors to remain seemingly silent. Indeed, one factor is that they never or rarely articulate themselves in a major international lingua franca, which would usually be also the lingua franca of the former colonial administration. Additionally, people living in the countryside have rarely been able to gain much experience in dealing with the media in which this discourse has unfolded. However, these practical obstacles, nonetheless difficult to overcome for many who live in rural areas, conceal the fact that people do articulate themselves at the local level. Still, they do not choose the specific diction and discursive formations that gain attention in the Global North. More-

1 The report by Bénédicte Savoy and Felwine Sarr has rekindled a decades-long debate (see abridged German edition: Felwine Sarr, Bénédicte Savoy: Zurückgeben. Über die Restitution afrikanischer Kulturgüter. Berlin 2019). For an overview of reactions and contributions from Africa and Europe, see Achille Mbembe, Felwine Sarr (Eds.): Politique des temps. Imaginer les devenirs africains. Paris 2019, and Anna CodreaRado: Senegal Responds to Looted Art Report. In: New York Times, Dec. 1, 2018, section C, p. 3, online: African Officials Respond to France’s Restitution Report, https://www.nytimes.com/2018/11/30/arts/design/africa-macron-report-restitution. html (retrieved Dec. 17, 2019).

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over, such hindrances obscure the fact that colonial structures and hierarchies persist until today and did not come to an end with the independence of most African states around 1960. Decolonizing the restitution debate requires more than tracing the voices of those who express themselves fluently in the media accessible in the Global North. Markedly, it is necessary to look at the complexity of exchanges between actors at various levels. Most artists who created the works now exhibited in the world’s major art museums come from villages. Still, the rural milieu is inhomogeneous enough that a few words are seldom sufficient to describe it. Only profound knowledge of the local circumstances, including many-faceted tensions and conflicts of interest, can reveal the motives of the artists, merchants, peasants, and others who claim these works. Thus, this article cannot provide a general answer to how people who created such works view the loss of their property. Instead, the following can exemplify an on-site analysis of the complex relationships and interactions. After all, a single example shows people attesting to different interests and acting accordingly and that the actors’ goals may change considerably. Despite the continuity linking colonial and post-colonial periods, the trade in African art and the view of the phenomenon both have a history. In this paper, I use as examples experiences, I have had in northern Côte d’Ivoire and neighboring regions of West Africa over many years since 1979. 2 The areas are not representative, but parallels to other parts of Africa come readily to mind. The greater part of the research focused on rural milieus, supplemented by data collected in two towns, the larger of which was an important center for trade in cultural goods. The carvers, traders, and farmers made the majority of the following remarks spontaneously in conversations. 3 When I left for a long field research trip to northern Côte d’Ivoire in 1990, I intended to explore the aesthetic judgments and values in the milieu of craftsmen and artists commonly called Senufo. Therefore, I took photographs of works from European and North American collections with me that showed outstanding, less outstanding, and mediocre pieces according to Western criteria. The idea

2 Several research projects on artistic forms of expression funded by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (i.e., German Research Foundation), the Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz (i.e., Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation), and later by the Swiss National Science Foundation (SNSF) provided the framework for my research. 3 I constrained myself to fall back on interviews only if I could not sufficiently clear up all aspects of a topic in informal conversations. Unconstrained conversations rate significantly over interviews; hence, the interlocutors can influence the depth of the discussion of a topic, shift to certain aspects or set a topic. Moreover, spontaneous conversations lack the hierarchical character of interviews featuring rigidly fixed roles.

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was to show these photographs to local carvers and discuss which pieces would be “the best” and why. In this way, I hoped to learn if their aesthetic judgments would differ at points or coincide with the Western view. The conversations unfolding in this context touched on many aspects of the carvers’ artistic work. Relatively unrelated to the research questions at hand, the remarks illuminated many aspects bearing references to other areas of their lives that were important to the local people.

2 Meeting an Old Carver The word (and name) Kana means “male goat” or simply “he-goat.” 4 The first names of the Senufo are unusual. The names often refer to an event that happened to the mother during pregnancy or pick up a name already borne by an ancestor. Kana came from a clan of carvers, whose members used to go by strange names. Besides, the craft of carving is not open to everyone. One must be born into a lineage of carvers to be allowed to practice the craft. As a boy, Kana had already tried his hand at making small stools, then spoons and other household items. Then he learned in one of the workshops the carvers maintained in the village. They sat under a raised thatched roof; their workshop had no walls. The apprentices carved what the older craftsmen had already mastered: Masks and figures that brought in more than household goods. When he became a young man and had learned what he could from the elders, Kana left his hometown. He spent the journeyman years moving from place to place in the region and familiarized himself with everything he had not been able to learn at home in the carving tradition of his ancestors. By the time Kana settled back home in his mid-20s, he was a carver who knew his way around many genres and styles. He knew the customs at other places, the figures and masks people used, and what they were willing to pay for them. For a long time, people still reckoned in cowries; it was as late as the 1950s and 1960s that the money introduced by the colonial rulers prevailed for such purchases. Yet, negotiating the value of a sculpture would still have them resort to cowries; only when an agreement was reached was the number of cowries converted into cash. I deemed Kana the ideal partner to give me information about the pieces in the photos. He was already an older man when I presented the pictures to him in 1990. Two years earlier, he had risen to become

4 Senari, the language of the Senufo, does not recognize genders but five nominal classes. Therefore, one has to use an adjective to mark gender.

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the elder and, thus, the spokesman for the carvers. He was the group’s contact person to the outside world, negotiating with those who wanted to commission a figure or a mask and then assigning the work to those carvers in the group who knew the respective genre best. 5 Kana knew his people and knew precisely those with the talent for a task and the ones who would fail. So, when a customer wanted to commission a figurine or a mask, he turned to Kana first. Kana, as the elder, had been dutybound for many years to take his part in the routines. His predecessor had long suffered from a rheumatic ailment that immobilized him. Some in the neighborhood rumored that Kana’s predecessor had been the victim of a sorcerer. His death, after all, brought little new responsibilities for Kana. Kana continued to do what he had long done. But only now was he recognized as the elder of the carvers in the village. We had made time to peruse the photos together and arranged to meet several consecutive afternoons. It was a big pile of about 120 shots, most of which were photographed or copied from show catalogs of exhibits or collections. The pieces were mostly labeled Senufo. Some bore other designations, as Senufo was a colonial collective designation that did not reflect the region’s ethnic diversity. The term was introduced by the French colonial civil servant and linguist Maurice Delafosse in 1906 on the occasion of a colonial exhibition in Marseille. Delafosse then put it to use in the colonial archive as a designation for a people with a culture. 6 The French labeled tangible and intangible things, which Europeans counted in a loose sense as part of the culture of a people. In the end, it was an open and arbitrarily expandable list, modeled on the methods Edward Burnett Tylor, the founder of English anthropology, had propagated and made the basis of colonial ethnology some 35 years earlier. In the colonial archive, each ethnos possessed only one culture and only one art—identifiable as such in form, shape, style, and expression. In terms of sculpture and statuary art, the archivists ascribed the African continent with “style centers” on a map. Senufo, naming an ethnic group, was a colonial creation. The name did not correspond to any local notion of a coherent culture or specialized art. Nevertheless, the term served to classify artistic creation in the region that spanned the French colonies of Côte d’Ivoire, Soudan Français, and Haute Volta, now Côte d’Ivoire, Mali, and Burkina Faso. However, although colonialism constructed both ethnic groups and their culture and, as a

5 See Till Förster: Work and Workshop. The Iteration of Style and Genre in Two Workshop Settings, Côte d’Ivoire and Cameroon. In: Till Förster, Sidney Kasfir (Eds.): African Art and Agency in the Workshop. Bloomington 2013, pp. 325–359. 6 See Maurice Delafosse: Le cercle de Korhogo. In: Gouvernement Général de l’Afrique Occidentale Française (Ed.): La Côte d’Ivoire. Marseille 1906, pp. 312–422, esp. p. 312.

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necessary part of it, their art, the made-up categories did not become irrelevant when the regions declared their independence. And not that much has changed since then. For decades, the terminology was in use in a wide variety of administrative acts, so the terms have remained a social and political reality. Their discursive power remains formidable, manifest in the nearly decade-long military and political crisis in Côte d’Ivoire that has culminated twice in bloody riots and civil war. When I showed the old carver the pictures with objects from European and North American collections, the escalation into violent unrest and military intervention was not yet foreseeable. However, the looming problems that were to lead to the situation at the turn of the millennium were very well visible. In the end, colonial ideology objectivized the culture of the ethnic groups constructed by the colonial authorities and, in the same step, degraded artworks to the status of mere objects. The latter was soon to become apparent in our conversations—albeit differently than I had assumed. Kana had small, delicate hands—unusual for someone who had worked with his hands all his life. He proceeded thoughtfully and picked up one sheet after another. When something interested him, he turned or rotated the photograph—like a sculpture you want to look at from all sides to get the complete picture. He would sometimes look at the reproduced sculpture while holding the photo upside down, sometimes sideways, and then again upright as the picture had been taken. When I asked him which piece was the “most beautiful,” the “best,” or the one bearing the “strongest” artistic expression, he answered readily. However, his answers were not those that one would expect from a collector or connoisseur. He regularly granted the label “most beautiful” to those pieces that played a prominent role in rites. For example, he picked out the masks that acted for village covenants at funerals. The Senari word ɲɔ, usually translated into European languages as beautiful, beau or belle, joli or jolie, and schön, always relates to a purpose, in this case, the purpose of ritual action. In other words, the idea of aesthetic and artistic autonomy is unfamiliar to the people labelled as Senufo and not mirrored in their language Senari. Hence, my efforts to learn something about aesthetic judgments in this way came to nothing. Similarly, my expectation came to naught that Kana would be able to identify individual styles, or at least workshop styles, based on his profound knowledge of the region and of carvers elsewhere. I had hoped Kana’s knowledge would give me more in-depth insight regarding a topic that was a major issue in the anthropology of art in the 1970s and 1980s. But that was not the case. He was able to identify some workshops, but he did not associate artist personalities with them. The individual carver

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played a role within the respective workshop and carving community—no more, no less. Kana knew his community’s carvers well, and in the same way, others had to know theirs. The information’s referential meaning was limited to the local situation and did not establish supra-regional fame and reputation. Additionally, the findings reveal that the local complex of ideas lacked two notions that had been at the center of modern aesthetics since the 18th century: the autonomy of art and the equally modern cult of the artist on the righteous path to fulfilling a genius’ potential. Nonetheless, there was something else that caught my attention. Kana flipped open a photo of a comparatively small face mask. It was a mask of the type found in a great many collections. They were made in large numbers for the tourist market still existing on the coast at the time; hence, the tourists found it easy to stow such masks in airline luggage due to their small size. Most collections have the masks inventoried under the term kpelie. The word means in Senari not much more than “jumper” and refers to the acrobatic jumps the dancers wearing these masks perform during the shows. The dancers kneel until their face, covered with the mask, almost touches the ground, and from this crouching position, they suddenly jump up. They wear distinctive costumes corresponding with the mask, and the jumping results in the costume swirling around them (Fig. 1). Such “jumper” masks were mainly geared for entertainment. No particular group claimed the masks, nor were children or women forbidden to witness the acrobatic dances. Their generic name, kɔdali or kɔdaliga, was much closer to their role in the Senufo world of masking than the term kpelie, which was uncommon among the Senufo. After all, one could call any mask kɔdali if the mask was not subject to forbiddances and commandments and everybody was allowed to witness the corresponding performances. Still, two artisan groups attributed outstanding significance to such masks: the blacksmiths and the carvers. Their kɔdali masks were just as public as the simple ones belonging to the peasants. However, the peasants’ masks lacked a central iconographic feature. The small detail adoring the mask’s upper end would have been carved out of one piece of wood along with the mask or, in the case of the blacksmiths’ works, cast out of metal along with the actual mask body. The detail featured small, pointed cones, which the Senufo associate with the Kapok tree (Ceiba pentandra) and its seed pods. Solely the carvers’ kɔdali masks display such cones (Fig. 2). They were a part of their identity as an artisan group and thus considered by outsiders to be a sign of their distinctive historical lineage. When Kana saw this mask, he stopped short and looked at the picture for a long time. Then he rotated it very slowly—as if he didn’t want to miss a detail. He looked at me, then back at the picture. Finally, in a low voice, he said just

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Fig. 1: Dancer wearing the blacksmiths’ kɔdali mask jumps up. In the background is the elder of the blacksmiths as artisanal group, sitting on a chair, and on the left, the musicians who accompany the mask dance (Nafoun 1983).

one short sentence, “I know that one.” He looked at the picture unceasingly and began to rotate it again, as he had done with several other photos—just as if he wanted to be sure he was not mistaken. A few minutes later, I dared to ask if he could specify the circumstances when he came across the mask. It turned out that the object pictured had once been the mask of his carving community. His great-uncle had been the carvers’ elder then, and Kana had been still a young man. The mask appeared on occasions when the carvers attended as a social association, for example, at major festivals or when an outstanding personality had died among other artisans. I could not answer his question about how this mask came into a European collection. Kana knew the usual ways in which Senufo artworks were shipped out of the country. “It must have been ya lɛɛrɛ ca,” Kana surmised, adding, “They’re everywhere.” The expression, a standard term in Senari, meant “Look for the old stuff!” and named the antique dealers who moved from place to place to scour the region. Finally, Kana asked where the mask was now and if he could see it sometime. It was easier for me to answer the first question than the second. It was clear that he would have had to travel to Europe. The mask had long been part of a private collection. Even if Kana had been able to make the trip—a somewhat hypothetical assumption—the persons in charge of the collection would have probably refused admission.

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3 “Look for the old stuff!” Masks and figurines had been shipped out of Senufo land in large numbers for decades, although the trade had begun in the 1920s colonial era. 7 The losses were enormous and had a direct impact on the life, the rites, and the material culture of the people. Art dealers coveted pretty much anything carved from wood but also bought textiles woven from hand-spun yarn. The sought-after fabrics were carefully crafted, displaying woven-in extra weft threads and intricate ornamental patterns. Many art dealers were Hausa originating from northern Nigeria and Niger. 8 However, in the market were also Senegalese, often mocked by the Senufo for carrying an accent. The vast majority of them were Muslims. They termed the carved artworks merely “the wood” or “the woods.” Yet, while using a derogatory term, they nevertheless had an eye for “good” pieces—works that would sell well on the international art market. Hausa and Senegalese were among the first ya lɛɛrɛ ca to enter the thennew market at the beginning of the 20th century. They had a twofold advantage: first, their trade networks, organized on a family basis, had existed for centuries, so they had a presence in many regions of the subcontinent and could draw on proven routes and transport facilities. Second, they were familiar with European colonial administrations. They knew the “magic of the whites,” i.e., the numerous administrative rules, strange and obscure from the point of view of most peasants. Moreover, the dealers’ knowledge of the whites, the tubab or tubabu, 9 who had settled temporarily or permanently in the colonial territories, covered their tastes. They knew that many whites saw themselves “at the forefront of civilization” and paving the way for “progress.” 10 So it would presumably be a good idea to summon the image of the superstitious world of dwindling Africa via these objects and offer the possibility to hold the magic at bay captivated in the artworks. It was a matter of selling the Europeans the very things that fitted their idea of African art and culture. Many Hausa knew little or nothing of the works they sought to sell. But they were gifted storytellers and affixed the figures and masks with all kinds of tales that 7 See Till Förster: New Markets, New Patrons. Work-Trade Relationships in a West African Art Market. In: Silvia Forni, Christopher Steiner (Eds.): Africa in the Market. Twentieth-Century Art from the African Art Collection. Toronto 2015, pp. 75–97. 8 See Christopher Steiner: African Art in Transit. Cambridge 1994. 9 The term, literally “powerful man,” derives from Wolof. (See André Demaison: Diaeli, le livre de la sagesse noire. Paris 1931, p. 29). Today the term is in use for all whites, regardless of nationality or personal status. 10 A French mathematics teacher, about 50 years old and working at a high school in Korhogo, put it this way in May 1985.

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Fig. 2: Face piece of a carvers’ kɔdali mask (in the possession of the carvers in Nafoun)

seemed promising to them, i.e., that would convince the usually ignorant European buyers that the pieces were witnesses of an ancient, “authentic” Africa. 11 A small fortune-telling figure could thus become the “goddess of cassava”—although the Senufo did not eat cassava at the time, regarded it as an unhealthy food that unfortunate people in the south of Côte d’Ivoire ate—and they knew no pantheon of gods. There was no radical disjuncture between the colonial and post-colonial trade in art. Instead, trade practices shifted slowly. Goods previously marketed primarily to the comparatively few colonial officials were later offered to international development experts. The mass tourist market was a new segment but did not replace the older one. In the post-colonial period, Hausa and Senegalese antique dealers settled in the region’s capital cities—and soon in every tourist destination. They set up business south

11 See Sidney Kasfir: African Art and Authenticity. A Text with a Shadow. In: African Arts 25 (1992), pp. 40–53 and 96 sq.

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of Dakar on the so-called Petite Côte, featuring a row of contiguous largescale hotels and resorts. Others opted for Assinie, one of France’s oldest colonial bases along the Guinea coast and formerly a relatively remote region, today about 80 kilometers east of Abidjan. In the major port cities, Hausa and Senegalese often had their booths installed in those parts of the markets where tourists frequently passed. They also often chose spots in front of inland attractions or hotels known for hosting whites during organized tours. Hausa traders roamed the hinterlands in search of “good” pieces, i.e., those they could sell to connoisseurs. They focused on a few owners of specialized galleries and collectors from the global North who had set out on their own accounts in search of African art. Dealing with these connoisseurs offered much higher margins than the tourist market. The sale of a “good” sculpture could easily support a dealer with his usually large family for half a year or even longer. However, leaving the new owner in the dark about the piece’s actual origin and worth was crucial for their prosperous trade. The fact mentioned above that they called the sculptures “wood” thus indeed served a purpose within their trade practice. The Hausa dealers’ business thrived on two distinct opportunities: They accommodated the collectors’ demand; however, since outstanding works of art were hard to find, the traders often spent many months searching for exceptional pieces. So, they combined their engagement in this market segment with ordering items to cater to the mass tourist market. The business in the two distinct market segments followed evidently different aesthetic criteria. Therefore, the Hausa visited carving workshops while searching for rare, “authentic” collectibles and ordered masks and figures in large quantities for the tourist market. They might have preordered at one go about 200 or 300 kpelie masks. Besides, they commissioned kpelie-type masks, hiding the wearer’s face, not kɔdali-type masks featuring the distinctive wood part at the upper end. Hausa dealers often specified iconographic details highly prized by their clientele. And they frequently preferred to purchase pieces lacking the usual surface treatment. Eventually, the semi-finished masks were cheaper, so the Hausa were happy to busy themselves with finishing the pieces by blackening and the occasionally required painting. At the beginning of the 1990s, the average price of a simple kpelie was about 300 CFA francs if the mask was part of a larger order and corresponded to the current taste of the tourists. 12

12 Today, the equivalent of 300 CFA francs is about =C 0.46. The CFA franc BCEAO (Franc de la Communauté Financière d’Afrique) is the currency of the West African

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Additionally, many local dealers knew the preferences and tastes of their clientele when it came to the upscale market of collectors and connoisseurs. They found it easy to sell the stools Senufo carvers make from one piece to people known to enjoy the aesthetics of radically simplified forms, such as interior designers. The small items were part of the basic furniture in every Senufo household, especially in the kitchen. Still, if the aim was to fetch a ceiling price for a stool on the international market, it had to be old and show a deep shiny brown or brown-black patina. In most cases, a woman would have owned such a stool and put it to use for daily choirs—it would have been patinated from life. Consequently, it was most likely to find such stools in the kitchens and huts of the poor who could not afford anything new. The dealers usually offered a new one in exchange and sometimes a small amount of money to go with it. However, deliberately, they held the monetary quota low so that the women could never have guessed a stool’s market value. Still, many women thought the exchange was a good deal. Over time it turned out that the new stools were cobbled together from cheap softwood and were not very durable. The nails that held them together quickly loosened. While a stool cut from one piece of heartwood could easily last two decades, the new, carpentered stools were often only two or three years old when the families had to replace them. Nevertheless, there is hardly a household today that does not own carpentered stools and has given away the older pieces. European art dealers were mainly in the background, working through go-betweens. However, a few moved around the country, driving a station wagon or minibus to better transport the objects. They, too, were yalɛɛrɛca, “Look for the old stuff!” for the Senufo. The local population knew a few dealers quite well. The Senufo recognized, for example, a German traveling via VW bus from a distance by the loud noise of the car’s air-cooled engine. While driving through a village, he had an assistant sitting on top of the driver’s cab and calling loudly, “yalɛɛrɛca.” Then they would stop and talk to those who approached the vehicle. They would announce a roughly fixed date they would return, usually a week or two later. “In that time,” Kana recalled, “the sculptures disappeared.” It was almost always young adult men who served the merchants. They knew the objects’ whereabouts and were young enough not to be particularly afraid of the supposed ritual protection the things presumably had to offer. They broke into the repositories when they knew the older adults were in the

Economic and Monetary Union comprising Benin, Burkina Faso, Côte d’Ivoire, Guinea-Bissau, Mali, Niger, Senegal, and Togo. In the early 1990s, 300 CFA was roughly equivalent to the purchase price of 1 to 1.5 kg of rice. Tourists paid for such a mask at a resort in the 1990s circa 5,000 CFA (=C 7.62).

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fields, at home, or asleep. On the other hand, teenagers, not yet initiated into the village covenants, did not dare to enter the groves or one of the small huts, usually used to stow away the most important masks and sculptures that were brought out only on ritual occasions. In French, as in other European languages, such an act would have been called a sacrilege. But in Senufo thinking, there is no point in constituting a dichotomy between the sacred and the profane. The commandments and prohibitions surrounding some of these objects, but by no means all, are derived without ideological or religious superstructure from lifeworld contexts. Yet, when a ya lɛɛrɛ ca returned to a village, he did not have to do much. The young men brought him the works they had taken in the darkness of the night and were paid directly in return. However, the merchant was in the driver’s seat: if the men were unwilling to accept the price he offered, the dealer threatened to leave. If the merchant terminated the purchase, this would have been doubly problematic for the young men. For one, the seller would have gained nothing in such a case, and secondly, others could discover the piece at his place—not improbable given the narrowness of living conditions in a peasant village. Then it would quickly become apparent that he had become a thief. Such cases had occurred repeatedly in the carving community over which Kana presided. During the days when Kana sat in his workshop and chatted with the younger carvers around him, he regularly told them what was happening in the region. Only the people in one village, he reported shortly before his death in 1992, would—on the occasion of funerals—set up the grand, upright statues at the shelter where the young adults, members of the village men’s alliance, kept watch during the long nights. In the other villages, the inhabitants had abandoned these prominent objects at that time—although they were among the best carvers could create. Admittedly, the sculptures had gone missing too often. Despite the growing number of thefts, the villagers had them replaced by new ones several times. In effect, the carvers in the region benefited from the increase in orders. But since the villagers’ means were limited, they tried to negotiate lower prices each time. The assignments became uneconomical for the carvers; after all, they usually carved such a pair of sculptures from hardwood—rarely found wood. The younger carvers often had to go deep into the protected forest further west before they found a proper tree. And carving the hardwood was tedious. Constantly one had to resharpen the axes and later also the carving knives. All in all, such sculptures were expensive. Ultimately, the individual professional groups owning these figures could no longer afford to replace the repeatedly stolen assets. The villagers gave them up—and with them, a central element of the arts displayed at funerals.

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4 Entanglements Strangely enough, they could rarely catch the thieves, although the figures stood more than visible to everyone in front of the shelters. And despite young men stood guard directly in front of them, usually only a few steps away from the statues. So how could it be that the figures disappeared overnight? Had the men who were supposed to be keeping watch at the huts fallen asleep? Or were they part of the problem? No one in the carving community was under any illusions. After all, even men in their ranks had tried to earn some reasonable extra income by trading rare sculptures. In the carvers’ quarters lived a middle-aged man who had spent part of his youth in the Abidjan metropolitan area. He had returned from there a drunkard, always looking for money to buy the craved liquids. Two villagers distilled liquor in the wilderness, somewhat remote from the village. Distilling spirits was illegal but very profitable. So the drunkard brought all the money he could get hold of to these two liquor distillers and helped them become all the more prosperous. Of course, this carver knew exactly where, by now, the elder had hidden the pieces they no longer dared to keep in the companionship’s grove. One day in the rainy season, unsettling news made the rounds that the carvers’ most important mask, known to the public simply by the name kɔdali, had disappeared. Kana and two other respected elders of the carvers’ settlement set out to find it. First, they sought to learn whether the mask was still in the village or already on its way to the city or the distant south, where it would undoubtedly soon appear on the antique market trading to connoisseurs. Suspicion formed in the villagers’ minds that the alcoholic carver had something to do with the theft. So they sounded him out, following up with threats and finally with beatings. They got lucky. It was possible to retrieve the piece. The elder retook charge of the mask. However, that things turned out right was pure luck. Indeed, the trail of stolen objects was often lost the very minute the thieves made their move. The recurring thefts of ritual objects were a constant topic in villagers’ talks. Yet, the public opinion that formed in the village also criticized the carvers. One should not express pity for the carvers, said a weaver who also made a living from his craft. After all, the carvers acted as traders, too. They looked for old pieces in the area to sell for a lot of money. If one looked around in Korona’s old house, one would be surprised what was behind the curtain separating the first room from the second. A house search would surely result in finding some of the items that went missing in recent years. The weaver began to get excited, saying that these carvers were perhaps the biggest hypocrites in town. They were the first to complain, but they

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would not refrain from participating when they could make money—that was unacceptable! 13 We often heard similar remarks casting doubts on the carvers’ honesty, although most who participated in these talks distinguished carefully between individual art market actors. To my surprise, the Hausa dealers met surprisingly little criticism. After all, this was their work, the villagers told me repeatedly. Still, the term work had an ambivalent meaning in this context since it indicated someone wanted to influence others through dishonesty. In the villagers’ view, one could expect nothing else from Hausa traders. Indeed, the role of the carvers and the elder, in general, was seen as the real problem. “These people,” said the same weaver, “are betraying what they inherited from their ancestors. That’s degrading—degrading for all of us! They would sell everything—even the stool from under their wives’ butts. If only they’d sat on it long enough.” Almost everyone who spoke out on the subject had a decided opinion. “What’s gone is gone!” said a blacksmith who also carved figures occasionally. What the carvers were doing was immoral to most villagers but ultimately unchangeable as the Hausa trade. “It’s always been this way,” said one of the peasants, who commented on another occasion. This fatalistic view of things is more than likely related to the experience of powerlessness under both colonial and post-colonial rule. Indeed, the art market in the 1990s could not have functioned without the collaboration of local actors. The carvers were by no means the only ones active there. Other craftsmen—for example, blacksmiths, tanners, and rope makers—joined in. Yet, all trade came to an almost complete standstill when the politico-military crisis in Côte d’Ivoire reached its first climax in the late 1990s: the coup of December 24, 1999. From 2002 to 2011, the country endured the divide into two halves, with the rebels controlling the northern half. Travel between the two parts was almost impossible, and trade between the carving settlements in the North and the tourist centers along the southern coast dwindled to a minimum. Once considered the site of economic miracles, the country represented commercial and political clout in the subcontinent. Whatever happened in Côte d’Ivoire had immediate consequences for all neighboring countries. In the years of the rebellion, very few traders entered the North of the country via Mali or Burkina Faso and culled the region’s largest city for the rare things that one might still possibly find. Some carving communities settling in places where the rebels had established administrative struc-

13 Memorial minutes of an all-night discussion on Sept. 14, 1996.

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tures sold representative seats and other furniture to the new masters. 14 During rebel governance, the market shrank significantly; however, sellers reoriented in terms of patronage on the rebels’ leading officers. That allowed some carvers to continue practicing their craft on a smaller scale—featuring new genres and new customers. The tourist market ceased existence once “Santa Claus” General Robert Gueï took office on December 24, 1999, in a coup d’état. Selling smidgens was possible when shipped to Mali or the Petite Côte in Senegal. Yet, even this market collapsed when, in 2012, Islamist fighters from Al-Qaïda au Maghreb Islamique (AQMI) almost overran the Malian state until an intervention of European troops brought the attack to a dead stop and recaptured the North. Due to subsequent attacks in Ouagadougou in Burkina Faso and Grand Bassam in Côte d’Ivoire, as well as the consistently volatile situation in some neighboring countries such as Guinea, the international community considered the entire region persistently insecure. Foreign offices in Europe updated the maps they regularly post on the Internet to alert travelers to dangerous areas, and the zones colored in red quickly encompassed most of the Sahel and the Sudan region. The dramatic events have resulted in profound and sustained changes. To this day, markets for wooden sculptures from the region have not recovered. When the tourist market all but collapsed, many carvers gave up making sculptures. Especially in the cities, they turned to other craft activities. In the countryside, many who previously made a living from carving or the art trade turned to subsistence agriculture. Due to the change in ritual customs—spurred in no small part by the ongoing thefts—the local market shrank and eventually could no longer provide work for the same number of carvers. By now, the carvers’ kɔdali masks hardly ever appear in public. Many young carvers have never seen such a mask dance in their lives—even though these masks are part of the carvers’ identity and epitomize the closely bonded social group. Meanwhile, in 2019, several carvers already held the elder position in Kana’s succession. Even among the elders, there are now some who no longer know the kɔdali. The void in knowledge refers to the look and feel of the mere wooden object but in equal measure to the mask as a whole, that is, the acting figure that moves and dances. They lack the figure that reassures during a funeral through its dance that the carving community will continue as a unit, as a social body, despite the loss of one member.

14 See Förster (note 9), p. 170.

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“Those old things have passed away,” one of the carvers said well after the rebellion ended. Another said that “they” were taken from them. 15 Again, whether the carver refers to the object or the masked figure remains unclear. But this is nothing new, he added. The carver’s statements did not indicate any separation between the mask as a material object, for one, and a ritual actor, for the other. However, he seemingly was clear in his mind that his chances of seeing the mask again were extremely slight.

5 Is a Reunion Possible? A large number of African artworks shipped abroad were acquired by illegal means—in both colonial and post-colonial times. The structures of this market have not fundamentally changed since the height of the colonial era in the 1920s and 1930s. Some players are no longer there, and new ones have joined, but those involved still play the same complementary roles laid out in the years when the market for African art was forming. At the local level, continuity is evident to a higher degree than reflected in transnational debates about restitution. Yet, people’s expectations are low. Nevertheless, there is change. Due to the supply shortage, the prices for “authentic” African art have risen far beyond the heights those who once created such works could ever have imagined. Prior to the military crisis and rebellion, the monetary volume of the market had vastly inflated; however, the underlying power imbalance did not change. Although local actors are the last to gain from increased prices—and most benefit next to nothing—they got entangled in this trade. It is not always easy to draw a clear dividing line between perpetrators and victims. Indeed, these roles are not clear-cut either. It is misleading to see the local middlemen as the sole perpetrators or the carvers exclusively as artists. The parts can change within a short time. Whatever good or bad deeds one or the other does in this field is always tarnished. Many local people would probably feel seeing a mask once again would suffice. Is it possible to give African art back to those who created it? By asking this question, one already presupposes a particular modern understanding of art, which is by no means universal and separates the international art world from the local world. How, for example, should a mask be restituted when embedding it in the actions that once gave it meaning is no longer possible? The answer is sobering. Restitution is essentially impossible because African art is not an object that one can

15 Personal note during a conversation, Jan. 2012.

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return as such from the Global North to countries in the South. And the people are aware of that fact. African art is a practice and making use of specific objects; however, you can’t possibly reduce it to these objects. For this reason, the people probably have little hope of seeing once more what they lost long ago.

Flower Manase

Restitution and Repatriation of Objects of Colonial Context The Status of Debates in Tanzania, Uganda, and Kenya National Museums

1 Introduction In 2015, some museums and universities in Europe initiated collaborative projects about “colonialism.” There were countless workshops, conferences, and exhibitions on the subject. For instance, in October 2016, the German Historical Museum in Berlin opened the exhibition that featured former African colonized states including Tanzania and Namibia. The exhibition titled “German colonialism fragments, past and present” was closed in May 2017. This exhibition awakened the public on German colonial history. While drawing the public interests and attention, it later stirred debates on German colonialism at the academic and social platforms. Among critical questions raised were the improvement of Europe-Africa collaboration and analysis of prisoned African cultural heritage in the hands of European museums and institutions for more than 100 years. The underlying question was, and still is “how Europe could vigorously collaborate with Africa on the subject of colonialism and restitution of cultural heritage”? Amid these debates, the wind changed in November 2017, following President’s Emmanuel Macron’s statement and wishes to return colonial objects to countries of origin. The French President speech was heightened with Felwine Sarr’s and Bénédicte Savoy’s report on “Restitution of African Cultural Heritage” in November 2018. This report marked a new era of restitution and repatriation debates and actions in Europe, particularly Germany. While it appears that the debates are happening fast and changing according to political statements, still the question was / is, “how African countries are relating to ongoing “restitution and repatriation debates” in Europe. It should be further noted that some

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of the European institutions are covering up and somehow preferring a silent response to the wind of restitution debates. This article outlines the structure of restitution debates in East African museums, the challenges that limit the precedent moves and likely a way forward in achieving the long time demands of returning cultural objects back to Africa. In the context of cultural heritage, “restitution” refers to an act of returning (a) cultural item(s) to the legitimate owners as an attempt to put things back in order and in harmony; it symbolizes justice, recognition and re-balancing towards establishing new cultural and ethical relations. 1 While the description of restitution is more wide / broad, the question lies to “who should initiate a restitution process”? “Is it a party that took heritage items illegally or the party that suffered losses and succumbs to victimization in the process”? In reflecting on these questions, this article is therefore based on written literatures as secondary sources and interviews with some museum experts from Uganda, Tanzania, and Kenya as primary sources on tackling the question of restitution debates status in the respective countries. The history of restitution debates is seen to have started before independence in East Africa. However, the historical accounts show that the East African communities / countries back then had somehow debated and raised restitution claims at the community level, whereby most of these claims went unreciprocated. 2 To somehow react on some claims, in 1960s before Uganda’s independence, the British colonial government returned one human remain from the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology of the Cambridge University. 3 In a similar case to Tanzania, in 1954 the former British governor in Tanganyika, Sir Edward Twining, responded to restitution demands of the Hehe community upon the return of Chief Mkwawa’s skull, which had been chopped during German colonial rule and exported to the Bremen Museum of Anthropology in German. 4 These returns prior to independence were characterized by British methods of indirect rule. Since independence, some of the government institutions like National Museums had demanded the restitution of cultural and natural heritages

1 Felwine Sarr / Bénédicte Savoy: The Restitution of African Cultural Heritage. Towards a New Relational Ethics. Paris [Nov.] 2018. 2 Interview conversation with Achilles Bufure, director of the Museum and House of Culture Station, Dar es Salaam, Apr. 8, 2020. 3 Interview conversation with Nelson Abiti, Curator of Uganda National Museum, Apr. 19, 2020. 4 Jesse Bucher: The Skull of Mkwawa and Politics of Indirect Rule in Tanganyika. In: Journal of Eastern African Studies 10 (2016) No. 2, pp. 284–302 (DOI:10.1080/17531055.2016.1184835).

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yet had received no responses from the colonizing states. For instances, in 1970 Uganda demanded the return of terracotta figures which had been excavated in 1930s as archaeological materials in this country and taken to the British Museum. 5 This is a similar case to Tanzania’s claims over the return of the famous Tendaguru dinosaur that is being exhibited at the Berlin Natural History Museum. 6 The United Nations declaration on the right of indigenous people in September 2007 generated a foundation for debates on restoring cultural and intellectual property taken from indigenous people without their consent. 7 Following the UN declaration, African countries initiated various moves on demands for restitution. For instance, Benin aimed at a permanent exhibition consisting of looted objects in 2007, followed by Egypt demands against the Paris Louvre for five fragments of wall paintings from the Tetaki objects of the 18th Century in 2009. Nigeria demanded the return of 32 art objects looted in 1897 from the city of Boston, United States of America, as well of as those of the famous Benin bronzes that are currently in the British Museum, London. 8 The Kenyan case appears interesting insofar, as the son of the former British soldier, Richard Meinertzhagen, who had killed King Samoei is said to have returned out of goodwill three staffs of the King in 2006. However, still there are missing objects such as King Samoei’s skull, his lion skin cape and headgear. 9 The colonial plundering and illicit trade had taken more of Kenyan cultural heritages including sacred items as the ones referred to as “Vigango” from Mombasa. Thousands of Vigango sacred items and many other cultural objects were stolen and somehow smuggled to North American museums and galleries in the past. In July 2019, some Vigango were returned to Mombasa, Kenya, out of goodwill and not due to restitution demands. 10 With the Kenya and Namibia restitution demands, it appears that the majority of African countries seeking for restitution have not yet received positive feedback, however the custodians (individuals or institutions) of this cultural heritage in Europe sometimes decides the return of few cultural objects out of goodwill. For instance, Namibia has officially

5 See note 3. 6 See note 2. 7 Tristam Hunt: Should Museums Return Their Museum Artefacts? In: The Observer, June 29, 2019 (https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2019/jun/29/should-museumsreturn-their-colonial-artefacts, retrieved July 4, 2019). 8 Ibid. 9 John Kamau: Kenya: Time Is Ripe to Fight for Return of African Artefacts. In: Daily Nation, Aug. 4, 2019 (https://allafrica.com/stories/201908040034.html, retrieved Aug. 10, 2019). 10 Ibid.

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demanded from Germany restitution and an apology for the brutality of colonial crimes that had led to the genocide of the Nama and Herero people in 1904–08. Despite the mentioned initiatives, African restitution demands and efforts appear to be silenced by European institutions, since no official restitution demands by the African side have been covered by the media of this continent. It is worthwhile, therefore, to remind the fact that Africa is still recovering from colonialism brutality and exploitations in a long-lasting process. Hence issues of economic and social development constitute a priority for the 21st century.

2 The structure of restitution debates in museums Uganda, Tanzania, and Kenya national museums are somehow operating in similar scales because they have emerged as products of British colonialism in East Africa. These museums are largely part of colonial projects. The types of collections they hold are similar as they were established under similar interests and ideologies of the British colonial administration in East Africa. The Uganda National Museum, established in 1908, was the first, followed by the Corydon Museum in 1910, which has later on been renamed National Museums of Kenya and Tanganyika (Tanzania) in 1934 in an act of honoring the rule of the British King George VI. After the independence of these countries, Tanganyika (1961), Uganda (1962) and Kenya (1963), the museums had a long way to go and still have a lot to do in transforming the colonial ideologies of collecting and objects’ narratives in such a way that they satisfy local communities’ interests. While museums are custodians of movable cultural and natural heritage, their role in restitution debates is significant in terms of expertise. 11 Restitution debates in East Africa comprise contributions from the national level, from communities and also by Tanzanians living in diaspora. 12 The national structure for these restitution debates should in my opinion include government institutions, bodies such as National Museums, ministries including those of tourism, of antiquities, of foreign policy and cultural relations, also diplomatic relations including embassies, universities and other government institutions. 13 The communities’ levels include groups of indigenous people who view their ancestors as creators of objects 11 Interview conversation with Dr. Noel Lwoga, General Director of the National Museum of Tanzania, Apr. 24, 2020. 12 Ibid. 13 Ibid.

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as well as victims of colonial exploitation or even killings carried out under specific colonial agendas, leading to the shipment of human remains to Europe. As already mentioned, those living in diaspora constitute the third participant group. However, up to now there are still no defined debates and written articles originating from both levels that might enable and foster the discussion of restitutions issues at the government and national levels. The reason for this is that the issue of restitution and its processes is challenged by factors that will be described in the following section of my contribution.

3 Challenges to Sustainable Restitution Debates in East Africa The above-described early restitution claims before and after independence by East African countries were not successful. During the interviews I did whilst preparing this article most interviewees expressed their opinions that the most important problem of successful restitution demands had been the lack of networks and the small number of sustainable discussions at both the national and community levels. In essence, a lot more than achieved could in their opinion have been done and materialized through restitution and repatriation processes. Also debates on restitution have not yet attracted the attention of the wider public. In his assessment of the status of restitution debates in Tanzania, the General Director of the country’s National Museum, Dr. Noel Lwoga, expressed his will to have returned colonial collections, however he evaluates quite critically a prevailing disconnection between national efforts and communities’ initiatives towards restitution goals, which the Director sees as the main obstacle to successful claims. 14 For instance, there have been demands for the returning of human remains and collections belonging to former African Chiefs, but these efforts remain futile since they limit themselves to local communities which for one reason or the other do not seek the support of national government institutions. Besides that, there is limited awareness of the restitution subject at the community level. 15 This having said, Ugandan communities nonetheless appear to have taken proactive steps and to be quite well informed about matters of restitutions of cultural heritage and human remains, not less than the National Museum of Uganda and related government institutions. 16 For 14 Ibid. 15 Ibid. 16 See note 3.

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example, representatives of the historical Ugandan Kingdom of Bunyoro have demanded from the Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford, Great Britain, the return of a “throne stool” and other cultural heritage looted in 1898–1899 during the British invasion of the Kingdom, in which the Bunyoro King had been exiled and later died on his way back to Uganda in 1903. 17 This community initiative is, however, futile, since the museum in question claims to have received the “throne stool” from anthropologist visiting Uganda, in other words, on a peaceful path. The museum however doesn’t bother answering the obvious question how European anthropologist could have been able to get access to the King’s Palace and his throne stool; let alone to donate such a sacred object to the Oxford Museum. 18 As communities are moving forward towards or in pursuing restitution claims, they often fail to connect with government and associated institutions like national museums to foster their claims. Possible assistance in clarifying the provenances and movements of the objects in question are not made use of by the respective communities. Regarding this gap between communities and museums, Dr. Lwoga states that “currently, there is no single voice among communities and government institutions like National Museums. It is mandatory for museums to regulate the restitution practices in terms of expertise and assisting communities by bridging the gap through setting restitution standards at the government level.” 19

Thus, the National Museum of Tanzania strives at the establishment of a public access database which shall link the Tanzanian collections (from museums and institutions of all disciplines including natural, cultural / ethnographic, art, hominids, human remains, stone tools and others) with research data that can facilitate restitution agendas of any kind. 20 The National Museums of Tanzania and Uganda could follow the successful example of the Kenya National Museum in this respect, which has already begun to develop a website containing an international inventories program and detailed explanations on the issues at stake. For this purpose, the National Museum of Kenya currently accesses the databases of European museums to create a list of those parts of their collections which may or certainly do originate from Kenya. 21 The first phase of the project effort aims at mapping these European collections using existing databases and 17 18 19 20 21

Ibid. Ibid. See note 11. Ibid. Interview conversation with Lydia Kitungulu, Curator of the National Museum of Kenya, Apr. 24, 2020.

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websites. A second phase will focus on provenance research about those collections that during the first phase have been included into the online database. 22 The National Museums of Kenya also serves as a good example for the practice of linking museums and communities in their efforts to facilitate restitution debates and claims. Prior to the COVID 19 pandemic, the Museum has organized a scientific dialogue about the movements of collection items, thus making heard the communities’ voices on restitution agendas and debates. 23 These dialogues are hosted as public programs. The idea behind that is to create a committee that would be able to come up with a resolution that calls the government into action. 24 Despite this wonderful initiative, up to now the National Museum of Kenya is challenged by legal restrictions and the lack of policy guidelines by the government for the initiation of restitution approaches and processes. 25 It appears that the National Museums of Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda are facing similar challenges in terms of policies and legal frameworks for restitution agendas at the government levels. According to the curator of the Uganda National Museum the laws are still influenced by the colonial period, resulting in considerable difficulties to assess and broadly discuss matters of restitution. Uganda only recently, in 2015/2016, launched an amendment process to the existing law, which is however currently being affected and slowed down by the COVID 19 pandemic. It is yet unclear when the new laws are going to be submitted to the Ugandan parliament. 26 Unlike Europe, the national museums in East Africa are not experiencing much public pressure by activists’ groups and NGOs on the restitution subject. The cultural heritage sector is not yet a matter of debate among the activist stakeholders, since they are focusing on political und educational issues, also on the health sector. 27 Therefore the debates presently awakening in East African museums at this moment stay far below the levels of public attention the restitution issue receives in Europe. The debates yet miss the level of national attribution also because of the above-mentioned challenges and hitherto limited engagement of the public and African governments in restitution matters. They fail to attract media, important political leaders, activist, NGOs, juveniles, and the public at large.

22 23 24 25 26 27

Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. See note 3. Ibid.

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4 Conclusion In my concluding section I would like to make some remarks about possible solutions to the difficulties of achieving restitution goals through a combined effort of the national museums of East African and those communities from where the respective items originate. The East African museums, government and communities should first establish a common position and develop statements in such a way that their voice can be heard as one voice in the restitution agenda. Efforts to come to such terms should be launched at the micro level of communities. In a further step these debates should be opened for the public to draw attention to the initial initiatives. It should become clear that these debates concern everyone and not just the descendants of former Chiefs. The East African citizens should be aware of the importance of restitution debates and related projects. 28 These debates could be advanced from community to local leaders including mayors and chancellors in order to understand both the theoretical and technical aspects of the efforts to regain cultural heritage. In a final stage the agenda should be promoted to the government level. 29 At this stage, government institutions like national museums and relevant ministries, embassies and universities could engage in creating a National Committee for the fostering of debates whose task it would be to develop a responsible and hopefully successful political statement on restitution matters. 30 Politicians, NGOs / civil societies organizations, schools, media and activists could stimulate public debates and shape this future national declaration on restitution tasks and claims. The East African community (EAC) and African Union (AU) could later one serve as a forum for the presentation of the national declaration and of demands for the restitution of colonial objects from former colonizing states. The restitution process would have to be reciprocated by the readiness of European institutions hosting colonial collections to open their databases of collections to the African party. In case there is yet no sufficient information about the collections, provenance research should be a collective responsibility of experts of the institutions hosting the collections, also in terms of funding. Since provenance research about the origins and whereabouts of objects is key before and even after the restitution process, the legal framework for museum copyrights should be altered if necessary. The use of generated knowledge and digitized 28 See note 11. 29 See note 3. 30 See note 11.

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materials should be thoroughly handled by legal officers from both parties already before provenance research has been started. 31 Lastly, the African governments could also contribute their share in the necessary funding. Common projects of European and African partners should not be based on the idea of a linear relationship between Europe and Africa. Instead, collaborative projects between African partners should supplement the common effort of former colonial powers and former colonized countries to come to terms with the colonial past through the restitution of looted objects.

31 See note 3.

Safua Akeli Amaama

Restitution and Dialogue Towards Collaboration Some Considerations from Samoa

1 Introduction “For many indigenous community members, museums represent places where stolen treasures are displayed in sterile splendour. In this situation some may feel the same, but the circumstances are different from many that demand repatriation. The key difference here is that, unlike many other objects, the ‘ahu’ula and mahiole were not stolen from the Hawaiian Islands. They were freely given by their owner Kalani’opu’u to travel the world with James Cook, and they would travel much farther than he after his death.” 1

The restitution debate, as the extract above expresses, continues to draw attention from museum professionals, academics, and multiple communities, due to its complexities and the need to consider associated issues on a case-by-case basis. In reference to the above quote, in 2016, the Te Papa Museum in New Zealand engaged in the return of significant cultural objects to the Bernice Pauahi Bishop Museum in Hawai’i. These objects were associated with Hawaiian Chief Kalani’opu’u who had these gifted to the British Captain James Cook in 1779. Acquired by the museum in 1912, although the áhu’ula (cloak) and mahiole (helmet) had been returned on a long-term loan basis, since 2020 ownership has now been transferred to the Bernice Pauahi Bishop Museum. While working as a Pacific Curator (2008–13) at Te Papa, I witnessed the emotive work associated with the repatriation of human remains and significant cultural objects such as those from Hawai’i. For example, I recall an elderly visitor from Hawai’i who had placed a request to view the feathered image of War God Ku¯ ka’ilimoku in the collection’s storeroom. After placing Ku¯ ka’ilimoku on the table, I provided space for his private viewing. While

¯ 1 Shelby Pykare: Review of “He Nae Akea: Bound Together.” In: The Contemporary Pacific 29 (2017) No. 1, pp. 212–214.

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I walked away, I could hear the elderly man chanting with tears flowing. Following his visit, he gratefully acknowledged the opportunity to meet Ku¯ ka’ilimoku before his last days. This experience highlighted the importance of objects as a point of reflection and performance in both tangible and intangible forms. Furthermore, the politics and representation attached to these provide a space for dialogue and collaboration. Considering the current debates on restitution, this chapter discusses the Samoa context in terms of Samoa-German relations. It briefly outlines the historical nature of exhibitions—largely curated by overseas individuals and institutions—and considers collaborative pathways towards meaningful dialogue.

2 Germany in Samoa Prior to formal colonial rule beginning in 1900 (Fig. 1), German-Samoa relations had commenced in the 1850s with the establishment of the J. C. Goddefroy & Sohn firm in 1857. 2 Dictated by companies based in Hamburg, Bremen and Berlin, much of the German focus was on copra and it sought to centralize trading with Samoa and neighbouring islands. 3 Facing bankruptcy in December 1879, the Deutsche Handelsund Plantagen-Gesellschaft der Südsee-Inseln zu Hamburg (D. H. P.G) of Samoa took over operations and continued to recruit cheap labour from New Guinea, the Bismarck Archipelago and German Solomon Islands. 4 By 1890, D. H. P.G had acquired 8,005 acres of cultivated land for Samoan plantations, a major increase from 4,337 acres eleven years earlier. 5 Prior to the influx of foreign settlement, since the 16th century, warring Samoan families sought to attain the four paramount titles of Tamasoali’i, Gatoaitele, Tui Aana and Tui Atua for overall authority as Tafa’ifa (holder of the four). The death of Malietoa Vainu’upo in 1841, the last Tafa’ifa title holder, brought more conflict than peace since he dispersed the titles on his deathbed. Due to constant civil wars over the paramount

2 Malama Meleisea: The Making of Modern Samoa: Traditional authority and colonial administration in the history of Western Samoa. Suva (Fiji) 1987; Peter Hempenstall: Pacific Islanders under German rule: A Study in the Meaning of Colonial Resistance. Australia 2016; Peter Hempenstall / Paula Tanaka: The Lost Man: Wilhelm Solf in German History. Wiesbaden 2005; John Moses: The Solf Regime in Western Samoa. Ideal and Reality. In: New Zealand Journal of History 6 (1972) No. 1, pp. 42–56. 3 Stewart Firth: German Firms in the Western Pacific Islands, 1857–1914. In: The Journal of Pacific History 8 (1973), pp. 10–28. 4 Clive Moore / Jacqueline Leckie / Doug Munro: Labour in the South Pacific. Townsville 1990. 5 Firth (note 3), p. 16.

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Fig. 1: Hoisting of the German flag on Mulinu’u Peninsula, 1 March 1900, Samoa, by Thomas Andrew. Te Papa (C.001438)

titles and political rivalries between the Three Power governments of Germany, Great Britain and the United States of America—each backing various Samoan chiefly candidates such as Malietoa Laupepa (d. 1898) and Mata’afa Iosefo (d. 1912)—the Berlin Treaty (1889) signed between the Three Powers was an attempt to organise civil relations over Samoa. Samoan attempts to establish a central government in the 1860s and 1870s to manage relations with foreign settlers ultimately failed. Conflict continued and reached an impasse in 1899 resulting in the Three Powers signing the Tripartite Treaty which demarcated Samoa’s archipelago. Germany, motivated by the plantation economy, annexed the Western islands and the United States acquired the Eastern islands due to its longstanding association with Pago Pago harbour. For Great Britain, Germany negotiated the boundaries in the Solomon Islands and relinquished commercial rights to Tonga. Official German rule commenced with the raising of the flag in March 1900 at the new political centre of Mulinu’u Peninsula. During the 14 years of German rule, Chinese indentured labourers were recruited from 1903 to work the plantations. 6 Samoan resistance emerged, 6 James Davidson: Samoa mo Samoa: The Emergence of the Independent State of Western Samoa. Melbourne 1967; Richard Gilson: Samoa 1830–1900: The Politics of a Multicultural Community. Melbourne 1970.

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firstly, under the Oloa Company (1905) and secondly, as the Mau a Pule (1909) from Savai’i. Samoa’s German Governor Dr. Wilhelm Solf (1862– 1936) suppressed the uprisings and banished Mau members to German Saipan. Solf, having been appointed Secretary of the European Municipal Council in the 1890s, would govern Samoa for 12 years until replaced by Governor Dr. Erich Schultz (1870–1935), previously chief magistrate of the Lands and Titles Commission. With the outbreak of the First World War and the arrival of the New Zealand Expeditionary Forces in August 1914, German rule came to an end. However, cultural legacies between Samoa and Germany were deeply embedded through genealogical connections and introduced institutions in the social fabric of society. 7

3 Samoa’s Heritage In 1979, the United Nations Education and Scientific Organisation (UNESCO) Intergovernmental Committee for Promoting the Return of Cultural Property to its Countries of Origin or its Restitution in case of Illicit Appropriation commissioned the International Council of Museums (ICOM) committee to conduct case studies “to help those countries which have lost an essential part of their cultural property to build up representative collections of their cultural, artistic and historic heritage.” 8 Samoa was selected along with Bangladesh and Mali. For Samoa, Albert Wendt, who had completed his Master’s in history in 1965, worked with Dr. Götz Mackensen from the Übersee-Museum in Bremen to review Samoa’s context. In summary, the panel found: “At present, there is no national public collection in Western Samoa. In addition, the number and quality of artifacts still in the country do not sufficiently represent the cultural heritage. This heritage is essentially based on the social organization of Samoan peoples, in particular oratory and ceremonies which are at the core of the social and economic life of the country.”

A few rare specimens of historical or artistic importance are still in the country, such as mats, small fishing boats still in use, and a few larger fishing boats and fishing implements. The same applies to traditional tools. 7 Malama Meleisea / Penelope Schoeffel: Germany in Samoa: Before and After Colonisation. In: Klaus Mühlhahn (Ed.): The Cultural Legacy of German Colonial Rule. Munich 2017, pp. 143–165. 8 UNESCO: Preliminary Study of Three National Situations in Regard to the Return of Cultural Property to its Country of Origin, CC-79/CONF.206/5, Paris, March 14, 1980, https://unesdoc.unesco.org/ark:/48223/pf0000038746?posInSet= 162&queryId=58ea8839-5e7d-42e3-9790-da9250ecf042 (retrieved Febr. 14, 2020), pp. 1–18.

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The gaps are in all fields of cultural material: important objects of historical and traditional interest, examples of decorative arts and archaeological material. Some objects for ceremonial use are still produced in villages, [but] they have modern decorations. There is no collection of traditional decorative arts, such as bark cloth or ceremonial costume. Tattooing is still practiced, but there is no collection of [tattoo] designs. The most important lacunae are in the non-tangible arts: traditional music and oral history. In certain cases, there is absolutely no trace of an object in the country itself: archaeological artifacts, ceremonial objects, such as royal bowls; double canoes and boats for the high seas which could carry up to 300 people, proof of the existence of an important maritime commerce before the arrival of Europeans. There is no collection of stone tools which are no longer in use, nor of any ceremonial armour made of wood, shell or stone. There are only two fields in which material is sufficient: traditional houses and contemporary crafts (mats, wooden bowls, etc.). A certain number of pieces still exist now in private collections and will be deposited in a future cultural centre. The only examples of some categories of objects are outside of the country, in particular in Great Britain, the United Sates, New Zealand, Australia, the Federal Republic of Germany and the German Democratic Republic. They are kept in archives, museums, libraries or in private collections. Very few objects from Western Samoa have appeared on the art market. There is no inventory of collections from Western Samoa. Having highlighted the situation, the panel outlined the following reasons: There are many reasons why these islands lost a large part of their cultural heritage. First, the lack of repositories and conservation facilities resulted in exportation of many objects to countries abroad which had museums and conservation specialists. On the other hand, a large number of objects, particularly [arms], became obsolete with the arrival of Europeans and a new way of living. These objects were no longer manufactured and quickly disappeared, accelerated by rapid deterioration under tropical conditions. The only examples of traditional objects from Western Samoa are outside the country. Finally, a large number of objects, particularly woven mats, were taken away by Europeans who had received them as presents during ceremonies. This is contrary to local tradition, according to which all presents received remained in the ceremonial circuit and would later be handed on to someone else by the person who had received it. Appropriating a present as personal property was considered to be a theft by Samoans, who had not foreseen that part of their heritage would leave the country this way. Colonial wars of the 19th century also

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contributed to the impoverishment of these islands and to the fact that so few objects remain there. The situation brought about by these wars had not improved since the beginning of the century.” 9 The above review provides an important departure point to discuss Samoa’s situation since the 1970s. Samoa ratified the UNESCO “Convention for the Protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage” (1972) in 2001, and, since 2013, has recognized a need to implement cultural preservation legislation. 10 Although various legislation include cultural heritage such as the “Samoan Antiquities Ordinance” (1954) and the “National Parks and Reserves Act” (1974), a national legislative framework will assist in documenting cultural sites as development continues. Thus far, three sites have been included on the World Heritage Committee Tentative List since 2006: The Fagaloa Bay Uafato / Ti’avea Conservation Zone and the Cultural Landscape of the Manono, Apolima and Nu’ulopa islands. 11 In December 2019, Samoa’s highest cultural object, the ‘ie toga (finely woven mat) or ‘ie Samoa was formally recognized by the UNESCO Intergovernmental Committee for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage at its Colombia meeting and is now included on the Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. In reference to the significance of the ‘ie toga, UNESCO states: “The ‘Ie Samoa is a special finely hand-woven mat fastened at the hem with two rows of green and red feathers, and a loose fringe on one end. Traditionally woven with fine stripping of the pandanus plant, the final product is silk-like in nature. Its shiny coppery colour adds to its value as it is a testament to its age and the natural bleaching process it undergoes from the sun and seawater. The production process involves a high level of intricacy as each woven strand is as little as one millimeter wide. Producing a single ‘Ie Samoa can therefore take up to several months and even years. Nevertheless, the ‘Ie Samoa is more than a cultural product involving exceptional skill; its true value lies in its use as an object of exchange in traditional ceremonies and rituals that reaffirm kinship ties and strengthen community wellbeing. The ‘Ie Samoa is displayed and exchanged at festive celebrations or on important gatherings such as weddings and funerals, and its exchange contributes profoundly to the maintenance of the social structure. Today, an increasing number of young female weavers are involved, and even male weavers. Women and master weavers have established fine mat committees within their villages, allowing them to exchange ideas about best practice for

9 Ibid., p. 7. 10 Government of Samoa: National Heritage Board Report. Samoa 2013. 11 UNESCO, World Heritage Tentative List, Fagaloa Bay—Uafato Tiavea Conservation Zone, http://whc.unesco.org/en/tentativelists/5090; UNESCO, World Heritage Tentative List, Manono, Apolima and Nuulopa Cultural Landscape, http://whc.unesco. org/en/tentativelists/5091 (both retrieved Febr. 20, 2020).

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Fig. 2: German hand-held stamp; circa 1900; maker unknown: purchased 2010. CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 Te Pap (FE012581)

weaving, and to boost opportunities for strengthening the transmission of the art form.” 12

As a living object, the ‘ie toga remains significant in cultural exchanges and ceremonies, including conflict resolution 13, and is perhaps the most widely circulated Samoan object globally along with siapo (tapa cloth). Thus, its inclusion in the UNESCO Representative List will require the maintenance of weaving groups, and connections with museum institutions abroad to further strengthen knowledge of weaving patterns, designs, and plant material. In connection to German rule in Samoa, the government was active in modifying the culture according to their ideas. Hence, the circulation of ‘ie toga was a focus of the government which introduced a grading system using a stamp (Fig. 2) to categorise ‘ie toga according to their perceived monetary value. 14

4 Samoa-German Exhibitions For Samoa, legislation requiring the return of human remains or cultural property is non-existent. However, in 2019, the government released the “Human Remains Repatriation Policy” to manage the return of deceased

12 https://ich.unesco.org/en/RL/-ie-samoa-fine-mat-and-its-cultural-value-01499 (retrieved Febr. 20, 2020). 13 Cluny and La’avasa Macpherson: The Ifoga: The exchange value of social honour in Samoa. In: Journal of the Polynesian Society 114 (2005) No. 2, pp. 109–134; Penelope Schoeffel: Samoan Exchange and ‘Fine Mats’: An historical reconsideration. In: Journal of the Polynesian Society 108 (1999) No. 2, pp. 117–148. 14 Philipp Schorch: German-Samoan Colonial Legacies, German hand-held stamp. In: Te Papa collections, https://collections.tepapa.govt.nz/topic/10138, retrieved Febr. 20, 2020.

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relatives to Samoa. The restitution debate or the repatriation of objects—term acknowledged as ambiguous—has not been at the forefront of discussions thus far. For example, in the Museum of Medicine in Brussels, a preserved tattooed skin of a Samoan pe’a (male customary tattoo) is housed as part of the collection. These human remains belonged to Atafu (or Atoafau) who had died while part of a travelling dance troupe in 1890. Anatomist and anthropologist Dr. Emile Houzé (1848–1921), a member of the Brussels Anthropological Society, had Atafau’s remains preserved. In 2004, these remains were displayed as part of the Brussels Royal Museums of Art and History exhibition “Tatu-Tattoo!” 15 To date, it is unclear whether the community is aware of its presence in the collection. As a highly important custom, it is noted that Governor Schultz was himself tattooed prior to leaving Samoa in 1914. 16 Cultural artefacts such as tattooing have long fascinated Westerners, and the art of tattooing has extended beyond Samoa reaching a wide audience including diaspora communities. 17 Historically, at least in the last 30 years, in the case of Samoa-German exhibitions, many travelling exhibitions to Samoa and elsewhere have been photographic in nature. In 1998 the bilingual Samoan-English exhibition “Va’aomanu: Togimamanu e ata, tala ma fa’atufugaga o le fa’aliga o au measina—and an exhibition celebrating the history and culture of Samoa” curated by Samoan academic Tupuola Malifa for the New Zealand National Library comprised a German colonial component and was displayed at the National University of Samoa. 18 Similarly, Peter Mesenholler (Museum of Cologne) and Alison Devine Nordstrom, curators of “Picturing Paradise: Colonial Photography of Samoa from 1875 to 1925,” showcased images taken by multiple photographers resident in Samoa from the late 19th century. 19 On reviewing the “Picturing Paradise” at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art, Taylor Holliday (1996) writes: 15 Sébastien Galliot: The Disastrous Fate of the Samoans from Leone, 1889–91. In: Idem / Sean Mallon: A History of Samoan Tattooing. Wellington 2018, p. 78–79; Roslyn Poignant: Professional Savages: Captive lives and western spectacle. New Haven 2004. 16 Misa Telefoni Retzlaff: An Enduring Legacy—The German Influence in Samoan Culture and History. Paper presented at the Conference “Das Deutsche Reich in der Südsee,” Berlin, Sept. 2007 (unpublished). 17 Galliot, Mallon (note 15). 18 This exhibition was gifted to the Centre for Samoan Studies in 2017. For the historical context see Safua Akeli: Samoa “on show.” Re-examining Samoa-New Zealand relations through display from 1923 to 2007. PhD University of Queensland 2017. 19 Picturing Paradise: Colonial Photography of Samoa, 1875 to 1925. Touring exhibition produced by the Southeast Museum of Photography, Daytona Beach Community College, Daytona Beach, Florida in collaboration with the Rautenstrauch-JoestMuseum of Ethnology, Cologne, Germany. Mesenholler had also co-curated the

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“But what about the Samoans? The period produced no local photographers to provide the Samoan perspective on colonial life. These photographs are all they have. A full copy set of the exhibition will be made for both Western Samoa, an independent country, and American Samoa, a U.S. territory. And another catalog essay by Mamoe Malietoa von Reiche, a resident Samoan artist and poet, gives us a clue as to how the islanders will respond: ‘Although the Samoans were used as subjects for profit making . . . or labourers in the schemes of expansionism, their lives and their faces were nevertheless recorded visually and beautifully, and these photographs tell the story of an era and its passing.’” 20

Such was the practice at the time, when photographs were the privilege of the foreign elite, and reproduced and distributed for global markets. 21 In 2005, Herwig and Christiane Niggemann brought to Samoa photographs taken by German resident Otto Tetens (1865–1945) held at the Haus Kemnade Museum in Bochum in the exhibition “Samoa 1905.” 22 In 2014, anthropologist Hilke Thode-Arora curated the exhibition “From Samoa with Love? Samoan Travellers in Germany, 1895–1911” from the collections of the Munich Ethnological Museum. Although it did not travel to Samoa, it was later produced as a publication. 23 The Auckland War Memorial Museum donated the exhibition “Entangled Islands: Samoa, New Zealand and the First World War” in 2015 to the museum, it had a strong German colonial history component, including objects formerly belonging to Governor Solf. In the last few years, a German-Samoa photographic exhibition organised by New Zealand-based researcher Tony Brunt was sourced from largely private collections and documented in the book “To Walk Under Palm Trees, the Germans in Samoa: Snapshots from albums—part one” (2017). Most of these images were sited publicly for the first time. In 2019, photographs taken by Dorothea Heimrod (1873–1966) at the turn of the 20th century were temporarily displayed at the museum, with the support of the Niggemann family. Overall, these examples articu-

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exhibition “Talofa! Samoa, Südsee,” in which contributions were made by Samoan artists such as Momoe von Reiche and Vanya Taule’alo, see Gerda Kroeber-Wolf / Peter Mesenholler (Eds.): Talofa! Samoa, Südsee: Ansichten und Einsichten. Frankfurt on the Main 1998. Taylor Holliday: Review of the art exhibition “Picturing Paradise: Colonial Photography of Samoa, 1875–1925,“ at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City through Aug 4, 1996. In: Wall Street Journal, July 3, 1996, https://www.wsj.com/ articles/SB836344185677939000 (retrieved Febr. 20, 2020). Max Quanchi: The Imaging of Samoa in Illustrated Magazines and Serial Encyclopaedias in the Early 20th-Century. In: Journal of Pacific History 41 (2006) No. 2, pp. 207– 217. See website: http://www.samoa1905.de/ (retrieved Febr. 20, 2020). Hilke Thode-Arora / Peter Hempenstall: From Samoa with Love? Samoan travellers in Germany 1895–1911: retracing the footsteps. Munich 2014.

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late curated exhibitions emerging from mainly academics and descendants of German residents. However, input from Samoan academics and artists are included in some of the publication and curatorial displays.

5 Digital Archives and Museum Objects While photographs have dominated the Samoa-German relationship, the archival digitisation record was developed between a collaboration with Germany and Samoa with Samoa’s newly established National Archives Record Authority (NARA) in 2013. Decades earlier, in 1978, Dr. Wolf Buchmann of the Federal German Bundesarchiv visited Samoa to review the German records. Thus, an agreement between Samoa and the Bundesarchiv in Koblenz was initiated to assist with microfilming the records and training a Samoan public servant in archival work. 24 In considering Samoa’s engagement with Germany, the archival documentation of German records provide an important digital source; however, access remains under the authority of the NARA and the Ministry of Education, Sports and Culture (MESC). 25 Although under the Pacific Regional Branch of the International Council on Archives (PARBICA) umbrella, the NARA has continued to play a significant role in the digitisation work of government ministries. Museums in Aotearoa, New Zealand and hapu¯ communities have been embedded within shifting colonising agendas and have clearly experienced very different immediate and ongoing effects. For Ma¯ ori, objects in museums are “taonga,” yet they are ideologically treated as material culture. 26 Similarly, in contemporary times, the equivalent term for Samoa’s treasured objects is “measina.” The global dispersal of objects beyond Samoa’s shores outnumbers the current national museum collection of about 300 objects. German related objects include a cigarette case and an imperial German flag along with woven textiles, souvenirs, carvings, baskets, and water carriers. Storage for collection items remains a problem as are the conservation conditions and shortage of staff capacity. 27 However, the 24 D. L. Thomas: Establishment of a National Archive: Western Samoa, Technical Report 1986 (https://unesdoc.unesco.org/ark:/48223/pf0000068735?posInSet=29&queryId= 9cfa1790-aae2-440c-890a-3a1137756f24, retrieved Febr. 14, 2020), pp. 1–14. 25 Archives of German-Samoa Colonial Administration from 1900 to 1914, https:// mowcaparchives.org/items/show/104 (retrieved Jan. 22, 2020). 26 Jade Tangiahua Baker: Te Kupenga: Re-casting entangled networks. In: Australian Journal of Anthropology 20 (2009) No. 1, pp. 112–130. 27 Elizabeth Bennett: Challenges to Cultural Heritage Interpretation and Preservation at the Falemata’aga, the Museum of Samoa, 2015, (https://digitalcollections.sit.edu/isp_ collection/2219/, retrieved Jan. 22, 2020).

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collection indicates a global narrative depicting an active interchange of cultural materials exchanged for multiple reasons and acquired based on factors such as social relationships, economy and scientific analysis. Currently, the Samoa government, in partnership with China, are close to completing the newly constructed Samoa Arts and Culture Centre which is due to open in June 2020. This new facility, about 10,000 square meters in size, will house up to 500 people in the auditorium. 28 While emphasis is on providing a social space, the staffing component will be important in shaping the role of the centre and vision for the future in terms of programming, storage and community engagement. Given the government’s investment in a national arts and culture centre, the issue of restitution may likely be woven into future planning. However, information-sharing of museum collections abroad requires dialogue to facilitate provenance research and acquisition information. Working with international colleagues to catalogue objects will support exhibition development, research and community consultation. Hence, the co-curation of exhibitions and review of museum collections provide opportunities to enhance collaborative efforts which might otherwise be difficult for a country like Samoa due to constraints on facilities, storage, security, technological infrastructure, and staff capacity. Despite efforts to promote the museum space since its establishment in 1999 as a site for teaching and learning, visitor numbers remain low. However, since the inception of the museum Facebook page in 2013, there have been high visitation numbers and to date, 11,191 followers. 29 For Samoans, highly valued objects are often found within family collections and remain key reference points for generations. These are often genealogical family trees inscribed in old ledgers, or ‘ie toga tucked into wooden chests. Hence, the future of restitution debates within Samoa’s cultural sector may be a likely agenda in the next ten years. With the museum lacking the key infrastructure and staff capacity, the current focus is on storage and exhibition development. Through the postgraduate course on Cultural Heritage Management offered by the National University of Samoa since 2018, students are exposed to key issues including restitution debates and how the State might respond. For many students, objects such as the ‘ie sina (cloth garment) made from hibiscus fibre, formerly

28 Samoa Arts and Cultural Centre Receives Special Visitor. In: Newsline Samoa, Oct. 22, 2019, https://www.rnz.co.nz/international/pacific-news/357584/building-of-chi nese-funded-samoa-arts-centre-underway; https://www.samoaobserver.ws/category/ article/51814 (both retrieved Febr. 14, 2020). 29 See https://www.facebook.com/pages/category/Government-Organization/The-Mu seum-of-Samoa-460537094030463/ (retrieved Jan. 22, 2020).

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a significant cultural artefact, has disappeared from recent memory, and museum collections are used to illustrate examples. One student recalled a memorable museum visit which enabled her to view the ‘ie sina for the first time. Similarly, ceremonial gifts were exchanged by German officials. For example, in 1901, a year after raising the German flag in Samoa, Governor Solf presented the newly appointed Paramount Chief Mata’afa Iosefo (d. 1912) with a gift from the German Kaiser Wilhelm II: “King Mataafa, of Samoa, has just received a unique gift from Emperor William of Germany. It is in the form of a richly-ornamented staff or baton, and is the work of Herr Otto Rohloff, a well-known sculptor and engraver. The staff is made of ebony, which is inlaid with silver, and it is crowned with an abundance of horse hair. The upper end is ornamented with engraved laurel leaves, beneath which is a band or ring composed of jewels and other precious stones. In the centre is the imperial crown and immediately under it is the Emperor’s monogram. The imperial coat of arms is also engraved on the staff, as well as certain symbolical figures. Herr Solf, the German Governor of Samoa, presented this attractive gift to King Mataafa, and the monarch expressed himself as being highly pleased with it.” 30

During the post-World War One period, several flags captured by New Zealand Expeditionary Forces were donated to New Zealand Museums as war ‘trophies’: “A valuable addition to the historic collection of war flags at the Auckland War Memorial Museum was made yesterday when the museum was presented with a third German flag from Samoa. This was the German imperial flag that was flown from the administrative building at Samoa. It is about 12ft. by 9ft. and is in perfect condition. The German Imperial Eagle and Crown are in the centre. The history of the flag is that soon after the landing of the New Zealand Expeditionary Force at Apia, Corporal Gilbert Matthews Slattery, now in Sydney, unofficially took possession of the trophy.” 31

However, these objects were sourced from Samoa’s colonial past and are now found in various New Zealand museums. The trajectories of departure for these objects bring to the fore questions of multiple narratives and ownership status.

30 Kaiser’s Gift to Samoan Chief. In: Manawatu Times, July 6, 1901. 31 Historic Flag. In: New Zealand Herald, Jan. 14, 1938.

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6 Considering Restitution The archives of German commercial trading firms in Samoa and the wider Pacific are located in German institutions and written mainly in the German language, although scholars such as Stewart Firth and Peter Hempenstall have made these available and accessible in the last five decades. 32 In reviewing the restitution debate since the 1970s, scholar and curator El Hadji Malick Ndiaye (2019) highlights the role of the International Council of Museums (ICOM) and UNESCO in forging discussions, including more recently the impact of French President Emmanuel Macron’s speech to university students in Burkina Faso. Writing on the changes in this second wave of restitution debates, Ndiaye contends: “First, it is no longer a matter of institutions being commissioned to prepare reports on the subject. It is instead a liberation of speech stripped of all institutional or political calculation, free of psychological alienation deriving from any kind of hierarchical relation. Second, it involves people who are not museum professionals and have the advantage of being able to escape the routine of conventional terms and familiar frames of reference. Finally, the analysis of the problems involved has a new intellectual richness conferred by attention to archival evidence and a methodologically sophisticated approach to the major challenges that confront museums today.” 33

In reference to the quote above, and as aforementioned, Samoa has yet to actively engage in the restitution debate. However, the country appears to focus on areas of collaboration, particularly since the 2019 launch of the “National Culture Framework” (2018–28) comprising policies on “National Heritage,” the “National Cultural Industries” and the “National Culture in Education,” all of which underpin Samoa’s 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development. These frameworks assist in articulating potential relationships towards cultural areas and objects, both historically and contemporary. Historical knowledge for Samoa is highly valued and contested since the transmission of stories; genealogies and kinship are closely tied to land and chiefly titles. Hence, institutions established in the German colonial period such as the 1903 Land and Titles Commission (later Land and Titles Court), continue to impact on matters pertaining to ideas of Samoan customs. As sociologist George Steinmetz (2007) writes: “The Germans inserted themselves into the very center of Samoan life by creating a new court, the Lands and Titles Commission, to settle disputes over the allocation of chiefly matai titles and related land claims. A Samoan matai 32 Firth (note 3). 33 El Hadji Malick Ndiaye: Musee, colonisation, et restitution. In: African Arts 25 (2019) No. 3, pp. 1–6.

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Fig. 3: Government Courthouse, Apia, probably 1920, Samoa, by Thomas Andrew. Te Papa (PA.000083)

bears the title of his ‘aiga, an extended kinship or descent group. Titles were the main markers of power and prestige. The transmission of a matai title from one holder to the next was often a conflictual and unpredictable process whose result could not be deduced from biological lines of descent.” 34

The restitution debate for Samoa might lie more in evidence associated with introduced institutions. Since the new port town of Apia emerged in the 1850s, various German architecture and monuments populate the urban area and the Mulinu’u Peninsula, for example the memorial to the German sailors who died in the 1889 hurricane, the monument commemorating the raising of the German flag in 1900, and the courthouse on Beach Road (Fig. 3). These sites have drawn the attention of local and disaporic communities with some protesting the demolition of the courthouse. These perspectives demonstrate political and economic constraints since within the next few months the almost 120-year-old building will be demolished. At an approximate cost of USD 20 million to restore, efforts via UNESCO World Monuments Fund and other options explored by the Courthouse Trust Board and the Samoa International Finance Agency have failed to generate enough financial resources for restoration work. However, the public remain divided: “I would say I feel shattered and quite despairing of what I would see as quite a casual consideration of a heritage building—are there no other ways we can consider preserving some of the past as it was?” 35

34 George Steinmetz: The Devil’s Handwriting: Precoloniality and the German Colonial State in Qingdao, Samoa, and Southwest Africa. Chicago, London 2007, p. 321. 35 Tagaloatele P. Fairbairn-Dunlop, quoted after Radio New Zealand: Academic ’shattered’ by plans for Samoa’s old courthouse, June 11, 2018, https://www.rnz.co.nz/ international/pacific-news/359314/academic-shattered-by-plans-for-samoa-s-oldcourthouse (retrieved Jan. 28, 2020).

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“The fact of the matter is that the building has to be replaced, it cannot be renovated piecemeal because the whole place is about ready to fall down. It’s lucky that it survived the last hurricane.” 36 “That was a building where New Zealand raised its first flag. Not only that but more importantly, it was where the nine that fell, including the high chief at the time, Tamasese, who was shot there in the corner steps there. So it’s very very significant in terms of history.” 37

7 Conclusion In his response to Bénédicte Savoy and Felwine Sarr’s (2018) report, UK-based scholar Nicholas Thomas writes: “There are strong and dynamic museums and cultural centres in Oceania, Africa and among native American communities today, but also many nations in which the indifference of governments has resulted in neglected, undervisited and insecure museums. Yet the institutions have much to contribute, for example in support of the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals. They will only engage visitors and be socially effective if there is continuing investment in staff, skills and facilities. Hence, alongside the return of artefacts, European nations need to be open to partnerships that are responsive to local views as to how cultural institutions can support contemporary practitioners, communities, economies and nations.” 38

Other writers provide multiple perspectives: “African academics with whom I spoke recently at a conference in Lyon pointed to two kinds of reactions in their homelands. On the one hand, they said, the great majority, who had more pressing concerns than the status of museum artefacts, were simply not interested. On another level, however, the spectre of cultural objects being returned to the country fanned the flames of rivalries between ethnic groups, each of which lays claims to particular pieces of the patrimony in question, including the Sengalese sword.” 39

I would add that restitution also involves a consideration of wider issues surrounding ownership, rights and identity; it has consequences not only in the context of the Western ethnographic museum and its indigenous 36 Tuiasau Tuia Petaia, quoted after Radio New Zealand (fn. 35). 37 Lama Tone, quoted after Radio New Zealand: In Samoa, a fight to save historic German courthouse, Nov. 3, 2014, https://www.rnz.co.nz/international/pacific-news/ 258472/in-samoa,-a-fight-to-save-historic-german-courthouse (retrieved Jan. 28, 2020). 38 Nicholas Thomas: Whose Art Is It Anyway? In: Financial Times, Dec. 8, 2018. 39 Sally Price: Has the Sarr-Savoy Report had any effect since it was first published? In: Apollo 191 (2020) No. 682, p. 18.

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counterpart, but also in the community within which the indigenous museum and cultural centre resides. 40 An important requirement is that indigenous people should be the guardians, protectors and advocates of their own cultures and their own cultural heritages. 41 Considering the Sarr-Savoy report, the French context is not alone and draws both interest and highlights complications for former colonial territories and European museums. 42 In Samoa’s case, inventories and provenance details are largely unknown and the assessment of these will provide space for dialogue towards digitisation using available technologies. Samoa’s engagement at this stage prioritises collaborations since, if objects are returned, where will these reside, and to which communities are they returned? Hence, the long-term vision requires the State to respond, and having a national facility able to manage these discussions will bode well for the future. If the Sarr-Savoy report provides a guideline and framework for consideration, it will serve Samoa well to evaluate key issues and consider future planning for opportunities to engage.

40 Nick Stanley: Introduction: Indigeneity and Museum Practices in the Southwest Pacific. In: Idem (Ed.): The Future of Indigenous Museums: Perspectives from the Southwest Pacific. Oxford / New York 2008, pp. 1–20. 41 Hirini Mead: Editorial Preface, ibid, p. ix. 42 Mathilde Pavis and Andrea Wallace: Response to the 2018 Sarr-Savoy Report: Statement on Intellectual Property Rights and Open Access Relevant to the Digitization and Restitution of African Cultural Heritage and Associated Materials (March 25, 2019). In: Journal of Intellectual Property, Information Technology and E-Commerce Law 10 (2019) No. 2, pp. 115–129, http://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.3378200.

Osarhieme Benson Osadolor

The Benin Sculptures Colonial Injustice and the Restitution Question

1 Introduction The debate on the looting of over four thousand intricate sculptures, including bronze works now known as the Benin bronzes from the King’s palace by the British multinational force during the invasion of Benin in February 1897 raises the question of colonial injustice concerning the looting and, therefore, the need for restitution. The contributions of curators, scholars, and cultural entrepreneurs to the current restitution debate on African art generally have continued to resonate beyond Africa and Europe. Since Nigeria regained independence from Britain in 1960, the Benin Royal Court and the Nigerian Government have consistently demanded for a return of the stolen cultural objects. Recently, the response of the Consortium of European Museums to a large extent demonstrated the implicit power relations that still attempt to subordinate the voices from Africa under the imperial voices of the looters of the Benin treasure, and their favorable position towards those whose economy is benefitting from the loot. The Benin art objects have become an important example in the international debate over restitution of Africa’s looted material cultural legacy. Thousands of art objects were looted and taken to Europe by the British forces that invaded Benin in February 1897 during the age of the new imperialism in Africa in the last quarter of the nineteenth century. The technical sophistication and precious materials of the works of art were much admired as many of them were sold and a lot now adorn museums in Europe and the United States. Although the history of the objects has been the area of continuing research and investigations, the restitution debate has led to the emergence of interest groups either advocating for their restitution or working out a new legal framework to hold back the

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stolen objects. In dealing with the restitution question, the way the objects were plundered by British forces cannot be ignored, since it raises issues of colonial injustice. The engagement of the British Empire and imperialism in nineteenth and twentieth century Africa was the basis of the colonial conquest of the Benin Kingdom and Empire in February 1897, which led to the plundering of the treasure trove of Benin bronze and ivory sculptures by the imperial conquistadors. Britain had pursued imperial ventures in the area that is now known as Nigeria through conquest, which led to the establishment of British colonial rule from 1861 to 1960. 1 While the invasion and conquest of Benin was prejudiced by imperialism, 2 the looting and dishonest acquisition of thousand pieces of Benin art objects has been a subject of debate on the colonial injustice and the restitution question. The British idea of imperialism in West Africa originated as a policy of extending its power and influence through colonization. The events which led to the British invasion of Benin in 1897 began with the evolution of British West African policy in 1875, the year which marked the beginning of their need for territorial expansion, and which is even regarded as a late development in British imperial policy. 3 The timing of advances and the compromises reached in European diplomatic negotiations in this age of new imperialism derived from complex international considerations beyond Africa. Following the European conference in Berlin in 1884–85, the coastline of Benin was placed under British protection, but the British could not gain any foothold. British efforts to secure Benin as its sphere of influence was manipulated through the fraudulent treaty of 1892 prepared by the British government and forced on Oba Ovonramwen, the King of Benin, by Henry L. Gallwey, the Deputy Commissioner and Vice-Consul, Benin district, Oil Rivers Protectorate on the 26th day of March 1892. Oba Ovonramwen ignored the treaty, so the British accused him of failing to observe his treaty obligations under article VI of the Gallwey Treaty. 4 The British invasion, plundering and burning of the Palace and the City is an ideal starting point for anyone interested in the debate on colonial

1 Osarhieme B. Osadolor: Empire and Imperialism: The Lagos Factor in the Expansion of British Colonial Influence in Colonial Nigeria 1861–1960. Keynote paper presented at the 8th Colloquium on the celebration of Lagos at 50 held at Freedom Park, Lagos, Nigeria on Saturday, Febr. 25, 2017; Obaro Ikime: The Fall of Nigeria: The British Conquest. London 1977. 2 Osarhieme B. Osadolor, Leo E. Otoide: Benin Kingdom in British Imperial Historiography. In: History in Africa: A Journal of Methods 35 (2008), pp. 401–418. 3 C. W. Newbury: British Policy Towards West Africa: Select Documents 1875–1914. Oxford 1971, p. 157. 4 A. F. C. Ryder: Benin and the Europeans 1485–1897. London 1969, p. 272.

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injustice and the restitution question. The restitution question is answered with reference to the history of the Benin art objects, which is inseparable from their plundering by British troops in February 1897. This essay then explores the implications of removing restitution from the agenda of the Benin Dialogue Group and the legal framework it has proposed, which fails to address the colonial injustice. The conclusion interrogates the nexus of the issues of underlying values and how the museums in Europe are fighting to keep possession of the plundered artifacts.

2 British Invasion: The Plundering and Burning of the City The details of military campaigns which accompanied the British colonial invasion and conquest of Benin demonstrate the economic motives for the aggression. In 1883, Britain had taken a position on European rivalry in the Lower Niger and had also taken steps to prevent French occupation of the Oil Rivers which would damage British West African commerce. The British had expressed interest in Benin and its interior. From 1892, the Foreign Office was inundated with memoranda that the Benin territory is a rich and most important one. In 1895, the Acting Consul, General Ralph Moor, recommended that “at the first opportunity steps should be taken for opening up the country if necessary by force.” 5 The coming of James Phillips as Deputy Commissioner and Consul-General of the Niger Coast Protectorate who took over duties from Captain Henry Gallwey on 15th October 1896 raised hopes of the representatives of the principal trading firms who had been pressurizing and imploring the vice-consul since April 1896 to take firm action against Oba Ovonramwen whose policy was seen as disruptive of trade and the exploitation of the interior. The issue of colonial injustice has to be addressed in discussing the British expedition of February 1897, which pillaged and looted several thousand art objects. British imperial historiography focuses on what they described as the “Benin Massacre” of January 1897 as the reason for the punitive expedition. The documents on British policy towards West Africa from 1875 to 1914 however suggest that the British had concluded plans to attack Benin and depose the King before the events of January 1897. On the 16th of November 1896, Consul Philips in a his dispatch to the Marquis of Salisbury sought permission to visit Benin City in February 1897 to depose and remove the King of Benin, to establish a Native

5 Osarhieme B. Osadolor: The Military System of Benin Kingdom, c. 1440–1897. PhD Dissertation University of Hamburg 2001, p. 210.

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Council in its place and to take further steps for the opening up of the country as the occasion may require. 6 The Foreign Office agreed to the recommendations of Consul Phillips and arranged the expedition with the War Office. 7 The memorandum of 24th December, 1896 from the War Office asserted strongly the declaration of war against the Oba of Benin, which was planned for February 1897. Macrae Simpson, a British colonial officer in Benin, in his intelligence report in 1936 had said that “Acting Consul Phillips set out on a peaceful unarmed mission.” 8 But Philip Igbafe argues that “a logical explanation seems to be that Phillips was going on a reconnaissance survey.” 9 In this case, Phillips’ so-called “peaceful mission” was a military examination of the Benin territory by a detachment in order to locate possible enemies or ascertain strategic features ahead of the planned attack of February 1897. Consul Phillips had ignored the advice of the Oba, who was observing the Ague festival 10 in January 1897, to postpone the visit for two months on the grounds that he was in a hurry and could not wait because he had so much work to do elsewhere in the Protectorate. 11 Even recently, arguing alongside British imperial historiography, writers such as Barbara Plankensteiner still have pointed out that the reluctance of the British to accept the trading conditions dictated by the Oba of Benin, whose territory was placed under the British sphere of influence at the Berlin Conference of 1885, led to “developments that placed Benin under increasing pressure, and explain the attack on a peaceful British mission in 1897, which wanted to persuade King Ovonramwen to keep to the terms of the trade agreement concluded in 1892.” 12

As mentioned before, Consul Philip’s dispatch of 16 November 1896 to the Marquis of Salisbury, which was approved by the Foreign Office, led to arrangements with the War Office in London and was communicated to

6 Newbury (note 3), pp. 147–148. 7 Ibid. 8 Macrae Simpson: A Political Intelligence Report on the Benin Division of the Benin Province. In: Ministry of Local Government and Chieftaincy Affairs Library and Archives, Benin City, Apr. 26, 1936, p. 8. 9 Philip A. Igbafe: The Fall of Benin: A Reassessment. In: Journal of African History 11 (1970) No. 3, p. 396. 10 The Ague festival was a national period of fasting and prayer, performed annually at the beginning of the year, for the well-being of the Oba, his entire subjects, and the land. 11 Ekpo Eyo: Benin: The Sack that Was, quoted from Osadolor (note 5), pp. 216 sq. 12 Barbara Plankensteiner: Benin Kings and Rituals: Court Arts from Nigeria. Vienna 2007, p. 25.

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the Colonial Office on 24 December 1896, 13 is evidence that the British mission of January 1897 was not a peaceful one. Consul Philip had advocated the use of force to depose the King of Benin, and his plan was approved. The British invasion of Benin was organized under the command of Admiral Sir Harry Rawson, the Commander-in-Chief of the British Naval Squadron at Cape Town. The invading army was made up of an elite force of 1,200 British soldiers brought to the Benin river from up to 4,000 miles away from London, Cape Town and Malta, and teamed up several hundred African troops, locally recruited from the Niger Coast Protectorate Force, and thousands of African porters brought from the British military base in Sierra Leone. 14 There is evidence that the elite force was some 1,500 soldiers, which included the Mediterranean Squadron and the support of a detachment of the West Indian Regiment. 15 Nine ships of Her Majesty’s naval squadron, namely H. M. S. St. George, Theseus, Phoebe, Forte, Philomel, Barossa, Widgeon, Magpie, and Alecto were used for the attack on Benin. The invasion began on 10th February 1897 in a three-pronged attack through the Ologbo creek, the Jamieson River line to Sakpoba, and through Ughoton (Gwatto) creek. The Benin army put up heroic defense against British invasion and on 18th February 1897, when the British forces entered Benin City, “it met with a tremendous hot fire from both side,” and “it was during this time that Captain Bryne was hit badly, and died later of his wounds; Dr. R. N. Fyfe was killed, and also several marines.” 16 The fall of Benin was due to several factors and the outcome of the war was dependent upon the Maxim guns and new weapons acquired by the British. In the aftermath of the invasion, “the naval expedition which captured and destroyed Benin City brought back as booty several thousand art objects and antiquities, which comprised the main cultural achievements of the Edo people.” 17 British marines set the Oba Palace and several houses ablaze after looting the treasures. Commander Reginald Hugh Bacon has described the heartlessness with which they burned the city. 18 On Sunday, 21 February 1897, the British marines finally set the Palace on fire at 4:00 pm and

13 14 15 16 17

Newbury (note 3), pp. 147 sq. Richard Gott: The Looting of Benin. In: The Independent (UK), Febr. 22, 1997, p. 3. Ryder (note 4), p. 290. Allan M. Boisragon: The Benin Massacre. London 1897, p. 181. Robert Home: City of Blood Revisited: A New Look at the Benin Expedition of 1897. London 1982, p. ix. 18 Reginald H. Bacon: Benin: The City of Blood. London 1897, pp. 102–105.

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Fig.: Captain Charles Carter, a man called “E.P. Hill” and an unknown man in front of the spoils of the British “punitive action” inside the Royal Palace of Benin, February 1897. Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford (Wikimedia Commons)

destroyed a large part of the city. The colonial injustice was beyond looting; in addition to the loss of lives and the destruction of property, the British plundered over a thousand of remarkable historical figures, which recorded the history of the kingdom.

3 The Plundered Sculptures Are Significant Cultural Heritage of Benin The plundered objects were a significant cultural heritage of Benin kingdom. Their looting led to the displacement of the Benin material cultural legacy. Benin was extraordinarily rich in sculptures of diverse materials such as bronze, ivory, iron, wood, and terra cotta. The treasure trove of bronze and ivory sculptures included King heads, Queen Mother heads, leopard, crocodile and fish figurines, bells, and a great number of images sculpted in high relief of warriors, chiefs, titleholders, priests, drummers, flute players, foreign merchants and mercenaries, retainers and attendants. The bronzes were made with a mastery of lost-wax casting technique, considered among the best sculptures in that category. The Benin objects were as stunning as the best art cast of the European Renaissance, and among Westerners, as has been pointed out by Joseph

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Nevadomsky and Agbonifo Osemweri, “it was simply impossible that presumed cognitively deficient Africans could have the finesse and skill to do so on their own without outside supervision.” 19 They noted that “when Europeans finally got over their stereotypes and Eurocentric hype, and the British and German museums hogged the bulk of the art works brought out from the palace of the King of Benin, a change occurred in the representation of Benin art objects.” 20

As has been asserted by previous writers, the works of Felix von Luschan 21 gave the Benin objects a new classification and meaning and gave credence to the fact that these objects were indigenous innovations that owed little, if anything, to outside influence, other than to the general ranges of artistic productions that were endemic in southern and middle Nigeria at the time, roughly a period that spanned a period from 900 to 1897 or even to the present. 22 The looted bronze reliefs had been produced through over five hundred years, and over two thousands of them exist up to the present day. They were once strategically placed on wooden pilasters in the courtyards of the royal palace. The royal court of Benin contributed substantially to the development of the art objects, as the bronze reliefs have no parallel in African art. Significantly, the bronze and ivory pieces had functions in rituals and courtly art and were placed in ancestral altars and pilasters. The bronze plaques were of various compositions, which documented important battles of the wars of expansion by the warrior kings, and most other objects depicted noble / court dignitaries in splendid ceremonial attire. Foreign merchants and mercenaries, as well as war chiefs and other title holders who played important roles in the economy, politics and society of Benin were recorded in bronze reliefs for posterity. The technical sophistication and precious materials of the works of art were much admired, and following their looting by the British army, they were displaced from Benin and sold in Europe and now displayed in museums in Europe and United States. 23

19 Joseph Nevadomsky, Agbonifo Osemweri: Benin Art in the Twentieth Century. In: Plankensteiner (note 12), p. 255. 20 Ibid. 21 Gisela Voelger: Curator, Trader, Benin Scholar: Felix von Luschan—An Austrian in Royal Prussian Museum Service. In: Ibid., pp. 213–225. 22 See note 19. 23 P. Girshick Ben-Amos: Art, Innovation, and Politics in Eighteenth Century Benin. Bloomington 1999; B. W. Blackmun: Icons and Emblems in Ivory: Sacred Art from the Palace of Old Benin. Chicago 1997; Kate Ezra: Royal Art of Benin: The Pearls

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Robert Bradbury has pointed out that “the history of Benin art is itself an important aspect of Benin history and it is of further significance in that the bronzes, ivories and wood carvings often purport to depict historical personages and events.” 24

His emphasis is on the material culture, which is of great importance in the collections of direct accounts of the past in the reconstruction of aspects of Benin history and culture. Since a large part of the collections dates to the era of warrior kings from ca. 1440 to 1606 AD and up to the 18th century, the objects remain significant in records administration as well as court rituals. Hence, Bradbury noted that “the bronzes contain much potentially valuable information about Benin society, culture and history over a long period,” arguing that “no opportunity should be lost to find out what the Benin people themselves say about them.” 25

The main objective of the bronze plaques was to glorify the Oba as divine king and record the history of his imperial power or to honor the Queen Mother. The commemorative or bronze heads were reserved for ancestral altars. They were used as a base for carved elephant tusks that were placed in openings of the heads. For the Benin people, the head represents the central point of ceremonies and sacrificial offerings. The head symbolizes life and behavior in this world, the capacity to organize one’s action in such a way that one can survive and prosper. The commemorative head of the Oba served as a vivid reminder of the role of the Oba’s head in guiding the kingdom throughout his reign. The head of the Oba was especially sacred, since the survival, security and prosperity of all Edo people and their families depended on his wisdom. The carved ivory tusks showed distinct scenes of important events or accomplishments from the reign of a deceased Oba. As a prerequisite for royal succession, each new Oba had to install an altar in honor of his predecessor. The Benin sculptures provide an unparalleled visual record of the history of the kingdom as well as the customs and tradition of the royal court. The art objects offer clues on everything from clothing and religious virtues to architecture and warfare in the kingdom. The plaques possessed aesthetic qualities and originality, demonstrating the skills of their makers, and adding to their historical significance. It is pertinent to point out that there are figurative expressions in the bronze and ivory carvings, but Collection in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York 1992; Harry N. Abrams / P. Girshick Ben-Amos / A. Rubin (Eds.): The Art of Power, the Power of Art. Los Angeles 1983; Flora Kaplan: Images of Power: Art of the Royal Court of Benin. New York 1981. 24 R. E. Bradbury: Benin Studies, ed. by Peter Morton-Williams. London 1973, p. 18. 25 Ibid., p. 252.

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the figurative works do not eclipse the recorded history of the kingdom. Researching the Benin bronzes, for example, is an investigation into Benin knowledge of metallurgy and the mastery of lost-wax casting that produced the high quality and incredibly fine, and finely made reliefs. German and Austrian museums were among the earliest to come into the possession of a considerable number of works of art from Benin. The avant-garde artists had the opportunity to appreciate the Benin art objects. The looted Benin sculptures tell the story of a great African kingdom. 26 Of all the pre-colonial African states, Benin is the one most mentioned in contemporary European literature, and the quest for historical knowledge of the Benin past remains fascinating because of its arts. As it were, the kingdom of Benin was an exceptional state in the forest region of West Africa, featuring a centralized political organization, and the hub of one of the most powerful political systems in pre-colonial Africa. The study of the artifacts will continue to attract scholarly attention due to the production quality and artistry or its reception in Europe and the United States. The issue of the trading loot vis-à-vis the European economy or the debate on colonial injustice and the restitution question has also attracted an international engagement of scholars as well as of the owners of the stolen sculptures and European museums. And quite recently, this engagement led to the formation of the Benin Dialogue Group. It is a continuation of the colonial power relations.

4 Restitution Question and the Benin Dialogue Group The most prominent and well-known civil society organization in the forefront of the agitation for the return and restitution of the looted Benin sculptures is the “Benin Artefacts Repatriation Campaign Organization Worldwide” (BARCO) with its membership in Africa, Europe and the United States. It has been consistent in its campaign to recover looted artefacts. On the other hand, the Benin Dialogue Group, a multilateral collaborative working group, has also emerged as a government organization but nothing more than the continuation of colonial power relations. The members are museum directors and delegates from Austria, Germany, the Netherlands, Sweden, and the United Kingdom together with representatives of the Edo State Government, the Royal Court of Benin, and the National Commission for Museum and Monuments. 26 Osarhieme B. Osadolor: Displaced and Displayed: Towards a Postcolonial History of the Benin Bronzes. Paper presented at a public discussion at the Hamburg University, Global History Research Area (Arbeitsbereich Globalgeschichte), Apr. 24, 2019.

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The agenda of BARCO is the return and restitution of the looted Benin bronzes, which they interpret as restoring the heritage and pride of the Great Benin Kingdom. But the Benin Dialogue Group assumes that returning the art works has not won unanimous support in Nigeria. Their agenda, therefore, is how to attempt to reunite the Benin art objects dispersed in collections around the world in a display of the objects in a new Royal Museum to be built in Benin City. The debate on restitution not only derives its argument from the viewpoint of restoring the stolen assets to its proper owner and the reparation for colonial injustice, but also attempts to introduce the issue of new cultures of collaboration in the sharing of collection and restitution. This issue of new cultures of collaboration arises from the “Declaration on the Importance and Value of Universal Museums” signed in 2002 by major museums of Europe and the United States. This Declaration attempts to contest the legitimacy of the demands for reparation and restitution. However, it also deliberately ignores the ways and means of how the objects were acquired and how they ended up in the museums of Europe and United States. The complexity of the restitution debate is further compounded in legal context, albeit in a struggle by the museums in Europe and the United States to resist restitution and by their determination to keep hold of the stolen artifacts. The new approach to the restitution debate on Benin bronzes began after the 2007 Exhibition on “Benin Kings and Rituals: Court Arts from Nigeria,” which was first displayed in the Vienna Museum für Völkerkunde. 27 This exhibition of the Benin cultural objects was subsequently shown the same year at the Musee du quai Branly, Paris, at the Ethnologische Museum of the Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Preußischer Kulturbesitz, and at the Art Institute of Chicago in 2008. The reactions that followed the exhibition led to the initiative to start the Benin Dialogue Group. The initial plan of the Dialogue was to create accessibility of the cultural treasures for the people of Benin and Nigeria and, through periodic meetings, work out the details of this accessibility. The first meeting of the initial plan was hosted by the Vienna Museum of Ethnology in December 2010 under the title “New Cultures of Collaboration: Sharing of Collections and Quests for Restitution.” While Berlin hosted the second meeting “New Cultures of Collaboration-Sharing of Collections” in October 2011, the third meeting held in Benin City in February 2013 was simply called “Meeting of Nigerian Officials and European Museum Representatives over the Benin Bronzes held in European Museums.”

27 See Plankensteiner (note 12).

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Following the failure of the British Museum in London to host the fourth meeting of the Benin Dialogue Group in 2014, there was a break in the series of meetings. In October 2018, the Group was hosted by the National Museum of World Cultures in Leiden, The Netherlands. 28 In spite of the years of negotiations between the Consortium of European Museums and Nigerian authorities on the return and restitution of the looted Benin bronzes, major European museums at the meeting in Leiden only agreed to a new proposal to loan some of the stolen art objects to the original owners on rotational basis within a new legal framework. A Royal Museum in Benin City to be constructed within three years will be expected to house a rotating display of artifacts and some of the looted objects. 29 In what appears to be a significant advance compared to previous meetings, a new partnership evolved from the proposals of the Benin Dialogue Group. The partnership provided a framework for the European partners to provide advice in building and exhibition design, while European and Nigerian partners will work collaboratively to develop training, source funding, and legal frameworks to facilitate the permanent display of Benin art works in the new museum. 30 The agreement is that all parties will work for three years in order to deliver a permanent display of the historic arts of Benin, including some of the most iconic pieces. The historical context of the agreement did not imply that Nigerian partners “have waived claims for the eventual return of works of art removed from the Royal Court of Benin, nor have the European museums excluded the possibility of such returns. However, this is not part of the business of the Benin Dialogue Group. Questions of return are bilateral issues and are best addressed with individual museums within their national systems of governance.” 31

The Leiden proposal has raised fundamental issues of ownership and restitution of the Benin bronzes, their theft and emergence on a world stage, their security and safety, and the idea of conservation practices of museums to preserve and display the manifold cultures of the human race for humanity. While these fundamental issues are of concern to different interest groups, the legitimacy of ownership of the artifacts must be addressed, and it is vital to the engagement and debate on the restitution question. 28 Press Release of Oct. 19, 2018 (https://www.volkenkunde.nl, retrieved March 23, 2020). 29 Ibid. 30 www.tropenmuseum.nl date, retrieved March 23, 2020. 31 Ibid.

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The legitimacy issue also raises political issues of power politics which attempt to gain property rights of the stolen art objects kept in museums in Europe and the United States. The evidence from 1897 photographs of the looting shows British soldiers sitting inside the King’s palace surrounded by several bronze and ivory objects, plaques, figures, and carved tusks laid out on the palace ground. The British looters did not have the property rights and their theft cannot confer property rights on the British or whosoever they sold the objects to. Truth is that the Benin sculptures were stolen, and the question of ownership does not arise. Neither is the issue of restitution complicated. On the restitution debate, a new development occurred in November 2018. Felwine Sarr and Bénédicte Savoy released a report titled The Restitution of African Cultural Heritage: Towards a New Relational Ethics, which had been prepared for the President of France, Emmanuel Macron. The academic activities that have followed this report have raised issues of locating African art in a global society. There is a widespread notion that restitution cases must be dealt with on individual merit. The Benin bronzes, however, belong to the category of stolen cultural heritage over which exists an elaborate discourse regarding the return of the objects and its restitution. For this reason, the restitution debate in all its complexity is contestation of claims to property rights. The Benin bronzes have been stolen by the British. They must therefore be restituted. This has been become an interesting issue because of their value as part of museum collections in Europe and the United States. The Benin sculptures represent unique objects of pre-colonial African art. Their reception in Britain and Europe in the late 19th and early 20th century has conferred them the status of art objects. Rather, their original meanings were embedded in the cultural and religious practices of Benin. They fulfilled functions in rituals and courtly art and were placed in ancestral altars and pilasters. The Benin concept of art in the production of the sculptures explains both why the bronzes were made with a mastery of lost-wax casting technique and the reason why there were other sculptures of diverse materials such as ivory, iron, wood and terra cotta. The sculptures were of historical and particular significance in the royal court of Benin, and they also derived from the cultural practices of the people. Oba Erediauwa, the 39th King of Benin, has said in his introductory note to the Benin Exhibition in Vienna in 2007 that the Benin sculptures are “some of Africa’s most exquisite works.” 32 According to him, 32 Omo N’Oba Erediauwa CFR, Oba of Benin: Introductory Note. In: Plankensteiner (note 12), p. 13.

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“it is important to note that they were not originally meant to be mere museum pieces simply to be displayed for art lovers to admire. They were objects with religious and archival value to my people.” 33

They were made only under royal command. Thus, the bronzes were records of events in the absence of photography. Those of the works which were not made for record keeping were made for a religious purpose and kept on altars. Barbara Plankensteiner also noted that the 2007 Exhibition paid tribute to the significance of these important African works of art and try to illustrate as many facets as possible of their artistic and cultural meaning. The full complexity of the works can be appreciated only through the awareness and consideration of two complimentary cultural perceptions of the art of Benin. The Western appreciation of these objects primarily as works of art differs significantly from their understanding in Benin as historical documents, as mnemonic devices for reconstructing history, or as ritual objects. 34 The looting of the objects by the British is nothing more than colonial injustice, and this explains the reasons for the campaign for return and restitution of the sculptures. Writers who have shown interest in the restitution debate have attempted to discuss it in the context of the placement of Benin sculptures in world art history and have raised questions yet unanswered. 35 An interesting dimension to the restitution debate is the issue of appropriation and exploitation of the cultural heritage of Benin. The Benin Dialogue Group has not addressed this issue. At its meeting in July 2019 in Benin City, the Group issued a vision statement to reiterate its commitment to establishing a new Royal Museum in Benin City. While it acknowledged that there were various initiatives across Europe that are currently seeking to address the questions of return and restitution, it stated emphatically that there are national, international and institutional legal complexities that govern issues of return and restitution particularly as member museums are from different countries and jurisdictions with different laws and regulations. The Group will meet again in 2020 at the British Museum, London, and in 2021 at the Museum am Rotherbaum, Kulturen und Kunst der Welt, Hamburg, Germany. While the Benin Dialogue Group is holding its meetings, the question of the ownership of the Benin bronzes and whether they should or should

33 Ibid. 34 Barbara Plankensteiner: Introduction. In: Idem (note 12), pp. 21 sq. 35 Staffan Lunden: Displaying Loot: The Benin Objects and the British Museum. Gothenburg 2016; Paul Wood: Display, Restitution and the World Art History: The Case of Benin Bronzes. In: Journal of Visual Culture in Britain 13 (2012) No. 1, pp. 115–137.

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not return to Benin City is one issue that cannot be avoided. As Paul Wood has pointed out, “the question of the restitution of the Benin bronzes is one of those that seem simple at first glance but become very complicated the further one investigates,” adding that “it is also highly emotive. Our Speaker who favoured the return of the bronzes eloquently linked their theft to imperialism and slavery, which he described as the ‘African Holocaust’.” 36

The moral heart of the Benin art objects is how they were displaced from Benin City and displayed in Europe and the United States. 37 In all the conversations of the Benin Dialogue Group it appears that the European partners are engaged in a continuation of colonial power relations. They have ignored the necessity of legal restitution of the looted Benin sculptures to the Royal Court of Benin as the rightful owner, even before there were talks on lending the art objects to the proposed Royal Museum in Benin City on a rotational basis. While they are also concerned about the different laws and regulations in the jurisdiction of member museums, the Europeans are failing to address the British theft of the sculptures. In other words, the Group has not addressed the ways and means of how the Benin sculptures were acquired and ended up in the museums in Europe and the United States. The reason, of course, is that the legal and historical contexts of the return and restitution of the stolen sculptures did not form the basis of the dialogue from the very beginning. Rather, it was a dialogue of cooperation with European institutions that are holding the stolen artefacts. Its shortcomings should not be appreciated if critical questions of colonial injustice and restitution are ignored.

5 Conclusion The Benin sculptures, which convey cultural expressions, are of great significance in the present-day Edo and Nigerian society because of their value as products of an indigenous culture and civilization. The international engagement in addressing the British looting of the cultural heritage of Benin has responsibility for truth-seeking because the atrocities of the British colonial power are well known. Insightful voices are addressing the key issues related to the colonial injustice and the restitution question. These are issues that will likely deter-

36 Wood (note 35), p. 11. 37 Osadolor (note 26).

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mine the extent to which the British will take over responsibility for their colonial injustice and to which they negotiate in order to find a solution to the problem of a return and restitution of the looted sculptures. These issues are the legal, cultural, and political dimensions of the restitution debate, which to a large extent will lead to the development of a postcolonially informed approach in dealing with stolen heritage. The issue of their theft raises the question of the restitution of important cultural property of the Benin people. The case of restitution of the Benin bronzes cannot achieve meaningful results when colonial power relations are continued, as the meetings of the Benin Dialogue Group seem to suggest. It must be analyzed in the context of colonial injustice and how to deal with colonial history, though the international host institutions may be opposed to this demand.

Lukas H. Meyer

Justice in Time A Future-Oriented Rationale for Returning the Padrão from Germany to Namibia

1 Introduction In 1893, at the beginning of German colonial rule over the region later known as German Southwest Africa, the Germans removed a column on Cape Cross, a headland in Skeleton Coast, in Namibia nowadays. The Portuguese had erected the padrão (i.e., (a monument, that signals the seizure of land in Portuguese) in 1486. Since Namibia’s independence on March 21, 1990, the Namibian state (represented by its president, government, and parliament) has expressed a strong interest in getting back the Column of Cape Cross, called padrão, on several occasions. Then, in 2017, the Namibian Embassy in Germany filed an official claim for restitution of the Cape Cross Padrão with the German Foreign Office. The German Historical Museum in Berlin had the column in possession and exhibited it permanently in its showrooms. 1 Indeed, the museum housed a public (and later documented) discussion on the question of the padrão’s restitution in 2018, with Namibian and European scholars participating. 2

1 See Claudia Buchwald: Statusbericht über die Recherchen im Zusammenhang zur Wappensäule von Cape Cross. Berlin: Deutsches Historisches Museum, May 29, 2018 (unpublished); Hans-Martin Hinz: Spurensuche in Berliner Museen. Die KreuzKap-Säule. In: Ulrich van der Heyden, Joachim Zeller (Eds.): Kolonialmetropole Berlin. Eine Spurensuche. Berlin 2002, pp. 265–268. 2 My speech at the conference Das Steinkreuz von Kreuz-Kap. Koloniale Objekte und Historische Gerechtigkeit, on June 6, 2018, at the German Historical Museum (Deutsches Historisches Museum, DHM) in Berlin builds the basis for my contribution to this volume. At that time, the German government had not yet decided on the return of the Padrão. An abridged lecture version was published in the DHM’s magazine (Gerechtigkeit zur rechten Zeit. Philosophische Betrachtungen zur Rückgabe des Padrão. In: Deutsches Historisches Museum [Ed.]: Historische Urteilskraft. Magazin des Deutschen Historischen Museums. Munich 2019, pp. 22–27). For a more extended

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In 2019, the German government decided to return the column to Namibia in consultation with the museum. Based on a transfer agreement, the column’s ownership changed to Namibia, and the column was transferred to Namibia by container ship in July 2019. 3 I will discuss the return of the Cape Cross Padrão to Namibia in terms of both a past-oriented understanding of compensatory justice and a futureoriented understanding of how Namibians can realize their justice-based legitimate interests regarding their history and culture. Furthermore, I consider another approach to the impact restituting the padrão might have in Namibia. The third approach focuses on whether the padrão’s restitution might spur contemporary Namibians to find their emblematic objects in addressing reparation and commemorating the deceased victims of the colonial period. After all, the demand for the return of the padrão is part of a specific context: European colonialism, the German variant in particular, and the still unfinished task of decolonization. If one considers historical injustice from the perspective of compensatory justice, the focus is on interactional aspects. The future-oriented approach focuses on an ongoing injustice regime and its structural features. The idea of symbolic reparation deals with the obligations of descendants toward persons of earlier generations who were wronged as individuals or as members of a particular population group. The three approaches reflect different understandings of who can be held responsible for redressing wrongs committed against whom, and they provide distinct justifications for restitution. According to the compensatory principle, the primary bearer of responsibility is the person who committed the wrong, and the secondary bearer is the person who has a relevant relationship with the perpetrator. In the first place, the rightful claimant is the person who has been wronged and, in the second place, the person who has a relevant relationship with the victim. Consequently, those who unlawfully obtained an object should return it to the rightful owners, and those who now own a wrongfully obtained version, see Responding to Colonial Injustice. Reflections on the Legitimacy of the Return of the “Padrão.” In: Art Law and Copyright 20 (2018) No. 5, pp. 119– 126.—I thank Claudia Buchwald, Deutsches Historisches Museum, for sharing her enormously helpful documentation and Nike Thurn, also of the DHM, for providing the photographs used in my article. Thanks to student assistants Lena Remich for her beneficial research and Deborah Biging and Gunter Schüssler for their help preparing this text. The work is part of the project “Historische Ungerechtigkeit und veränderte Umstände,” funded by the Austrian Science Fund (FWF), grant number P 30084. 3 Now, the padrão is not yet accessible to the public. The DHM is preparing a new permanent exhibit that will present the topic of colonialism in a new way. The DHM will launch the exhibition in a few years. I thank Fritz Backhaus, Director of the Collections of the Deutsches Historisches Museum, for the information.

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object should return it to those who would have inherited it. Accordingly, a person must return an object to another person (or provide compensation in some other form) if they wrongfully took the object from the other person (or otherwise caused the person to suffer wrongful harm). Those in a relevant relationship to either party—the successors of both who inherited (or would have inherited) or, as may be evidenced, have indirectly benefited (or harmed)—may find themselves in a similar and normatively relevant relationship to each other. In terms of the forward-looking approach, we can ask which individuals we can hold accountable for having contributed to colonialism when we understand colonialism as a system of injustice under which peoples’ right of self-determination was violated and colonized peoples and their natural resources were exploited and their cultural identities undermined. The direct claimants are the colonized peoples seeking to restore and revitalize their cultures eroded by colonialism. E.g., contemporary Namibians have an interest in relating to their history and developing their culture on their own terms. The question then is what former colonial powers owe to formerly colonized peoples when it comes to supporting their project of decolonization and whether reFig. 1: The Cape Cross turning the padrão can serve as a measure owed Column (a stela on that basis. surmounted by a cross When we try to come to terms with our hisand the Portuguese royal tory in a self-determined way, an essential ascoat of arms) © Deutsches pect is adequately relating to our predecessors. Historisches Museum, Berlin, and Thomas Bruns However, this requires a general recognition of who those predecessors were—especially if they were victims of injustice and their restitution and compensation claims were not met during their lifetimes and could not be fulfilled due to an ongoing regime of structural injustice. Today’s descendants of victims—and descendants of perpetrators, too—can understand themselves as standing under what can be dubbed surviving duties of sym-

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bolic restitution providing measures towards the past victims aiming at publicly establishing that they were victims of injustice and ought to have received measures of restitution and compensation during their lifetimes. Practices of commemoration that are understood as symbolic restitution can be—and typically are—centered on historical and cultural objects. Accordingly, those descending or succeeding direct victims of colonialism may view restituting historical and cultural objects as essential in enabling them to commemorate the injustices perpetrated against their predecessors. The descendants or successors of the perpetrators, if they are in possession of a relevant object, may also understand its return in terms of symbolic reparation. In this case, the perpetrators’ descendants address the victims’ descendants and wish to express in public that they recognize the wrong perpetrated by their predecessors or in their name. By doing so, they declare their wish that compensation and restitution of the victims were possible and that they are committed to preventing such crimes and injustices in the future—in the spirit of the motto “This must never happen again.” 4

2 Compensatory Justice 5 Namibia’s claim that the Cape Cross Padrão should be returned lacks at least some of the features we find typically in claims for the return of colonial cultural objects to be returned. One could not plausibly understand the claim in terms of restituting a cultural object stolen during the colonial period or as a demand for compensation in the sense of compensatory justice. For one, Namibia can hardly make claims to the column based on original ownership. As far as the origin of the padrão is concerned, there are no

4 See Lukas H. Meyer: Historische Gerechtigkeit. Berlin 2005; Lukas H. Meyer (Ed.): Justice in Time. Responding to Historical Injustice. Baden-Baden 2004; Lukas H. Meyer: Reparations and Symbolic Restitution. In: Journal of Social Philosophy 37 (2006) No. 3, pp. 406–422; Kamil Zeidler: Restitution of Cultural Property. Hard Case—Theory of Argumentation—Philosophy of Law. Gdansk and Warsaw 2016, p. 44. 5 See Robert Nozick: Anarchy, State, and Utopia. New York 1974, pp. 151 sq. See also David Lyons: The New Indian Claims and Original Rights to Land. In: Social Theory and Practice 4 (1977) No. 3, pp. 249–272; Andrew Valls: The Libertarian Case for Affirmative Action. In: Social Theory and Practice 25 (1999) No. 2, pp. 299–323; Ryan Hill, Yerni Katarere: Colonialism and Inequity in Zimbabwe. In: Richard Matthew, Mark Halle, Jason Switzer (Eds.): Conserving the Peace: Resources, Livelihoods, and Security. Winnipeg 2002, pp. 247–271; Daniel Butt: Rectifying International Injustice: Principles of Compensation and Restitution between Nations. Oxford 2009.

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open questions: provenance research proves (and there was probably never any doubt about it) that the Portuguese state had the column made and was the original owner of the padrão. João II, King of Portugal, commissioned Diogo Cão to explore the African coast south of the equator, and Cão erected the stele in 1486 at the place we now call Cape Cross. 6 We can refer to cogent evidence to decode the combined goals Portugal pursued when putting up a padrão at the site. Firstly, by erecting the padrão, Portugal claimed to have first discovered the stretch along the West African coast. 7 Based on the discovery doctrine and the notion of terra nullius, Portugal claimed the right to own the land (should the kingdom effectively take possession of it). 8 Moreover, that a cross surmounts the padrão attests to a distinct secondary motive for the European zeal for colonization, namely the Christianization of local populations. By erecting the padrão, the Portuguese intended to signal that Portugal had taken the first step regarding Christianizing local peoples. 9 At last, the seafaring nation saw use value in erecting the stele: to make the coast visible from further away in the marine region for those who passed by boat. 10 When the Germans rediscovered the padrão over 400 years later, it had toppled, and they, accordingly, noted that it no longer functioned as a signpost. 11 Besides, the steles made of stone initially served as ballast on the Portuguese ships and stabilized them. 12 It is likely that on the return voyage, the Portuguese had other goods obtained locally through trade or other means stored in their place. Second, when the German state took possession of the Cape Cross Padrão in 1893, no one, so it seems, questioned the measure’s legitimacy or permissibility, and no one considered the appropriation illegitimate or wrong. At that time, the Portuguese state did not object to the Germans taking possession of the padrão, although there was no doubt about Portugal being the rightful owner. Since 1990, two Portuguese offices have made inquiries regarding the padrão—the Portuguese Embassy and the Portuguese National Printing House and Mint (Imprensa NacionalCasa da Moeda). 13 However, I could not find evidence that one or both

6 See Wilhelm Kalthammer: Die Portugiesenkreuze in Südwestafrika. In: Namibia und Meer. Swakopmund 1978, p. 10. 7 See ibid., p. 8. 8 See ibid. 9 See ibid. 10 See Hinz (note 1), p. 265. 11 See Kalthammer (note 6), p. 13. 12 See ibid., p. 9. 13 “Since 1990, the Portuguese Embassy and the Director of the National Mint in Portugal (Imprensa Nacional-Casa da Moeda) have requested general information

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made official requests for restitution or expressed any such interests. Suppose we assume that ownership claims are not dependent on changes in circumstances (or that there were no relevant discernable changes in circumstances) 14 and that the appropriation, custody, and repair of the Cape Cross Padrão did not establish a German ownership claim to the stele. In that case, one could consider Portugal still the rightful owner. However, Portugal did refrain from objecting to the padrão’s appropriation by the Germans, and, what’s more, as far as we know, no one else objected to the seizure. Apparently, in 1893, apart from the Germans, no one had any interest in the column. There is no evidence that the local population was interested in the padrão at the time of its removal. 15 The stele probably had no actual use value to them. Almost toppled over, the padrão served no longer as a signpost, as boaters passing by could not see it from a distance. Indeed, the Germans didn’t even spot it right away when they put up wooden boards along the coast in 1884 to sign their seizure of the territory. 16 When the Germans appropriated the padrão, it had historical and cultural value, probably the only object preserved from 400 years earlier and the Portuguese’s first European discovery of the area. 17 The Germans recognized this value and preserved and restored the padrão (although it was almost destroyed during a bombardment of Berlin during World War II). 18 Had the Germans not removed the padrão and kept it in a museum, the ravages of time would likely have destroyed it, or weathering would have resulted in severe corrosive effects. The Museum of the Geographical Society in Lisbon houses three other padrões erected by Diogo Cão, yet, they are in a far poorer state of preservation. 19 Thus, taking the Cape Cross Padrão in possession at the time was understood as a measure that did not involve any wrong. I have found no evidence that anyone considered the appropriation by the German state to be illegitimate or wrongful. Nevertheless, one cannot interpret

14 15 16 17 18

19

from the DHM [Deutsches Historisches Museum (i.e., German Historical Museum) on the history of the stele. The DHM archive carries no official Portuguese requests for restitution in its records, so no other details are known.” Buchwald (note 1), p. 5. See note 41. See Andreas Vogt: National Monuments in Namibia. An Inventory of Proclaimed National Monuments in the Republic of Namibia. Windhoek 2004, p. 45. See Kalthammer (note 6), p. 13. See Amy Shoeman: Skeleton Coast. Cape Town, 3rd ed. 2000, p. 82. See Wilhelm Kalthammer: Die Portugiesenkreuze in Afrika und Indien. Eine umfassende Darstellung aller von den portugiesischen Entdeckern Diogo Cão, Bartolomeo Dias und Vasco da Gama errichteten Steinkreuze (Padrões), deren Geschichte und deren Nachbildungen. Basle 1984, p. 38. See Kalthammer (note 6), p. 10.

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the silence of the historical local population straightforward as approval. (I will elaborate on this point later on.) That local people supposedly remained silent could indicate various things. One might think of a lack of interaction or poor communication between the Germans and the local population. Maybe, the locals lacked opportunities to express objections. Or the Germans failed to understand such complaints when people had raised concerns or failed to report such objections. Third, Germany did not provide monetary compensation for the seizure of the padrão but established a substitute in 1895 that served similar purposes as the previous one, among others, to mark the coastal section visibly. 20 The new monument had explicit references to the original Portuguese column. In addition, the Germans had the stele made in granite which was better suited to withstand the weather of the coastal region than the original’s limestone. One can consider that the Germans set up their monument as providing some kind of compensation for removing the Portuguese one. They reinstalled a landmark at the site with the objective that the signpost should provide navigational aid and had their replacement commemorate the “discovery” of the area by the Portuguese, complete with an explanatory text on the monument. Fourth, Germany officially claimed “protectorate” status for the area known as Southwest Africa in 1884. 21 The German state established a replacement for the original padrão, preserved the original, and displayed it publicly, initially in the German Imperial Naval Academy’s historical collection in Kiel. 22 Based on the terra nullius principle, the German Empire supposedly meant to declare in the open that Germany had succeeded Portugal in that it had now effectively taken possession of the land. Portugal had not done so because it had not established itself as being in effective possession of the land. Besides, in the case that the Germans intended to underscore the German claim of “effective occupation” regarding the land’s coastline that later became known as German Southwest Africa by their seizure of the padrão in 1893 and the erection of a new monument in 1895, this is consistent with the General Act of the Berlin Conference on West 20 See ibid., p. 82. 21 See Ellen Ndeshi Namhila: Recordkeeping and Missing. “Native Estate” Records in Namibia. An Investigation of Colonial Gaps in a Post-Colonial National Archive. Academic Dissertation University of Tampere 2015, https://trepo.tuni.fi/handle/ 10024/97932 (retrieved Febr. 11, 2021), p. 27. 22 The academy in Kiel exhibited the pillar from 1894 to 1901; then, the authorities transferred it to the Institute and Museum of Oceanography in Berlin. During World War II, heavy bombardments destroyed large parts of the museum. Nevertheless, experts recovered the padrão from the museum’s ruins in 1953. From 1991 to 2006, the Berlin Museum of Transport and Technology housed the pillar as a loan. Since 2006, the German Historical Museum has had the padrão on display.

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Africa. Article 34 of the Berlin Act states: “Any Power which henceforth takes possession of a tract of land on the coasts of the African continent outside of its present possessions [. . . ] shall accompany the respective act with a notification thereof, addressed to the other Signatory Powers of the present Act, in order to enable them, if need be, to make good any claims of their own.” 23 In summary, considerations of compensatory justice alone cannot justify Namibia’s claim for restituting the Cape Cross Padrão’—given the origin of the padrão (namely, the fact that the Portuguese made and owned the column) and the circumstances of its removal by the Germans (in particular, the fact that this step was apparently not perceived as wrongful by anyone at the time). Namibia cannot claim to have inherited ownership of the padrão. There is no evidence that the local population felt the stele to be theirs. The fact that the pillar was almost toppled seems to be a clear indication that the local population had no interest in it before the Germans took it and replaced it with their monument. It is interesting whether Portugal can still be considered the rightful owner of the padrão. However, this seems at least questionable if we take into account that Portugal never officially sought restitution or compensation from the Germans for taking and keeping the column, nor did Portugal raise any objection to the return of the stele to Namibia. Evidently, Portugal had expressed interest in the return of the padrão in the meantime, but, it seems, the Portuguese did not understand this as a claim for restitution of property. There is no evidence that Portugal had any substantial interest in the padrão in the years before the German takeover, at the historical moment when the Germans removed the stele, or ever after. Although there is no doubt that authorship and ownership of the original padrão lie with Portugal (and as far as I know, Germany has never disputed this), Portugal’s longstanding and continuing lack of interest in the padrão suggests a lost interest in owning this historical and cultural object. If we consider Portugal’s intermittently expressed interest regarding a return of the padrão, 24 there is no need to interpret the request as a past-oriented demand for restitution. Maybe Portugal’s piqued interest

23 General Act of the Berlin Conference, Febr. 26, 1885. In: Edward Hertslet, The Map of Africa by Treaty, Vol. 2, 3rd ed. London (Her Majesty’s Stationery Office) 1909, No. 128, pp. 468 sq. See for the German version of Febr. 26, 1885, published June 20, 1885 Allgemeine Abhandlung der Berliner Konferenz über Westafrika https://de. wikisource.org/wiki/GeneralAkte_der_Berliner_Konferenz_(Kongokonferenz); retreived Febr. 11, 2021), Reichsgesetzblatt (1885) No. 23, pp. 215–246, chapter VI, article 34. 24 According to Vogt (note 15), p. 46, Portugal has expressed interest in having the padrão returned. See also Hinz (note 1), p. 265.

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reflects a future-oriented understanding of this cultural and historical object’s significance. For example, the Cape Cross Padrão could help the Portuguese to come to terms with their history of “discoveries” and colonization. However, I know of no evidence linking the interest on the part of Portugal to such an understanding of the padrão’s significance. I will come back to this.

3 Future-Oriented Restitution 25 I now turn to a future-oriented understanding and focus on Namibia’s claim for restitution of the Cape Cross Padrão. A future-oriented approach does not require proof that the property was wrongfully taken from the predecessors of Namibia’s current inhabitants. One may consider other reasons why Namibia is entitled to have the padrão returned. The justification for such a future-oriented restituting move rests upon the assumption that Namibians have a legitimate interest in both relating to their history on their terms and developing their historical and cultural identity. To do so, Namibians must get the chance to connect in a meaningful way to their community’s deceased members and victims of colonial crimes under German rule. In this way, they can address the circumstances of structural injustice that victimized their predecessors and respond to the ongoing effects of colonialism. 26 Suppose we assume the return of the padrão assists Namibians in pursuing their legitimate interest in coming to terms with their history and aids them in developing their cultural and 25 See Leif Wenar: Reparations for the Future. In: Journal of Social Philosophy 37 (2006) No. 3, pp. 396–405; Thom Brooks: A Two-Tiered Reparations Theory. A Reply to Wenar. In: ibid., pp. 423–440; Kok-Chor Tan: Colonialism, Reparations, and Global Justice. In: Jon Miller, Rahul Kumar (Eds.): Reparations. Interdisciplinary Inquiries. Oxford 2007, pp. 280–306; Iris M. Young: Justice and the Politics of Difference. Princeton 1990; Iris M. Young: Inclusion and Democracy. Oxford 2000; Iris M. Young: Responsibility and Historical Injustice. Application of a Social Connection Model. In: Annual Meeting of the American Political Science Association. Chicago 2004, pp. 1–42; Iris M. Young: Structural Injustice and the Politics of Difference. In: Anthony S. Laden, David Owen (Eds.): Multiculturalism and Political Theory. New York 2007 pp. 60–88; Iris M. Young: Responsibility for Justice. Oxford 2011; Catherine Lu: Colonialism as Structural Injustice: Historical Responsibility and Contemporary Redress. In: Journal of Political Philosophy 19 (2011) No. 3, pp. 261–281; Jeff SpinnerHalev: Enduring Injustice. New York 2012; Barbara Buckinx, Jonathan Trejo-Mathys, Timothy Waligore (Eds.): Domination and Global Political Justice: Conceptual, Historical and Institutional Perspectives. New York 2015. 26 See Jeremy Silvester, Jan-Bart Gewald (Eds.): An Annotated Reprint of the 1918 Blue Book of South-West Africa. Words Cannot Be Found. German Colonial Rule in Namibia’s Administrator’s Office. Report on the Natives of South-West Africa and Their Treatment by Germany. Leiden 2003.

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historical identity. In that case, we have reason to consider the Namibians the rightful claimants to the padrão’s ownership (and the Namibian state the rightful representative of their collective claim). If we understand the Namibian claim in this way, we can justify it based on the following considerations. First, for Namibia, the padrão fits the description of being an object of “cultural or historical importance taken in the European colonial era, [. . . ] involuntarily lost in a territory controlled by European colonial powers and not subsequently returned.” 27 This is the case even though there is no evidence that the local population was interested in the column when the Germans appropriated the padrão. The historical and cultural importance can be seen in standing for the “discovery“ of this region of Africa. Its importance lies in the fact that the padrão is the only or one of the very few preserved objects documenting this West African coastal area’s “discovery” by the Portuguese. Discovering the site was a prerequisite for colonizing the country and its people—or the first act of colonization. The Germans took the padrão under unequal conditions that one must call normatively problematic. We must assume that the Germans did not even try to determine whether the area’s population had a cultural or historical interest in the padrão and whether they believed they had a claim to the column. One could interpret the Germans’ lack of interest in obtaining this information as a sign of general disrespect of the legal and moral personhood of the indigenous peoples in the area. However, the circumstances of the acquisition were multifaceted. Indeed, the Germans did not ask the people living there for permission to remove the padrão, and they did not purchase it in exchange for money or other goods. 28 However, the state in which the Germans found the column did not suggest an interest in the object on the part of the local population, as I have already emphasized. Moreover, German officials and indigenous people agreed to so-called protection treaties at the time of the padrão’s seizure. 29 By negotiating such contracts, the Germans revealed that they had a more complex view regarding the legal status of the region’s inhabitants. Notwithstanding, these agreements were concluded under

27 Jos Van Beurden: Treasures in Trusted Hand. Negotiating the Future of Colonial Objects. Leiden 2016, p. 88, https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42164392 (retrieved Oct. 31, 2022). 28 See ibid., p. 89. 29 See Frank Lahmann: Establishment of Effective German Control in South-West and East Africa: 1894–1907. N. p. 2011, https://www.namibiana.de/namibia-in formation/geschichte-politik-gesellschaft/meldung/frank-lahmann-chapter-2-estab lishment-ofeffective-german-control-in-south-west-and-east-africa-1894-1907.html (retreived Febr. 11, 2021).

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highly unequal conditions. Moreover, in retrospect, one quickly catches the point that the treaties were instrumental for the colonial powers to exploit people and their resources as efficiently as possible. In this sense, the people inhabiting the territory lost the padrão involuntarily and under distinct circumstances: Germany, a nascent colonial power, began to control their land without their consent. Second, seizing the Cape Cross Padrão marks the initial phase, when Germans and the German state began to colonize the territory. A brutal and exploitative regime got going that arguably led to the first genocide in the 20th century—committed by Germans and in the name of the German state. 30 Thus, when the Germans took possession of the padrão, one can certainly consider the move a significant event closely linked to introducing a regime characterized by systematic and structural injustice. For this reason, Namibia’s claim Germany should return the padrão holds great symbolic significance. Besides, the padrão (and later its replacement) looms over an area that has particular relevance for the history of colonization in Southwest Africa. After the padrão’s removal, German businesspeople and, in tow, the German state took control of a larger area of Southwest Africa, exploiting both the natural resources and the inhabitants. The colonizing activities particularly affected the area marked by the padrão. On this stretch of coast, British entrepreneurs, under the concession of the German Colonial Society, exploited the local seal colonies and guano deposits. 31 Later, the German state established one of its infamous concentration camps nearby and interned the surviving victims of the genocidal war against the Ovaherero and Nama on the site. Brutally exploited as forced laborers, many prisoners died in the concentration camps at Cape Cross. From 1884 to 1915, Germany established its colony, South West Africa. Systematic and cruel exploitation of the local population—and the land and resources they owned—led to a rebellion. The Germans put down the revolt by military means in the most brutal way. 32 The war against Ovaherero and Nama is subject to an ongoing legal dispute. The Ovaherero 30 See Menschenrechtskommission des Wirtschafts- und Sozialrats der Vereinten Nationen, Unterkommission für den Schutz von Minderheiten, 1985; Auswärtiges Amt der Bundesrepublik Deutschland: Aus der Vergangenheit in die Zukunft: Deutsch-Namibische Vergangenheitsbewältigung, Apr. 9, 2018, https://www.auswaertiges-amt.de/de/ aussenpolitik/regionaleschwerpunkte/afrika/-/1897660 (retrieved Febr. 11, 2021). 31 See Peter Bridgeford, Marilyn Bridgeford: Cape Cross. Past and Present. Walvis Bay 2002, pp. 18–22. 32 See Felix Würkert: “Yes, redressing past wrongs in the present!,” Oct. 28, 2015, https:// voelkerrechtsblog.org/yes-redressing-past-wrongs-in-the-present/; Mieke van der Linden: “Redressing colonial wrongs?,” Oct. 19, 2015, https://voelkerrechtsblog.org/ redressing-colonial-wrongs/ (both retrieved Oct. 14, 2018); Jörn Axel Kämmerer,

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Fig. 2: “After the war. Captured Ovaherero.” In: Berliner Illustrierte Zeitung (1907), No. 4, p. 52. Illustration, 41 × 30.5 cm. German Historical Museum (DHM), Berlin (Inv. ZB 395-16.1907) © Deutsches Historisches Museum

and Nama demand monetary compensation and a seat at the current Namibian-German negotiations and future follow-ups; plus, they want the German government to acknowledge the genocide officially. 33 Thus, considering the historical development since the removal of the padrão, the removal stands as a key event at the beginning of the German colonization of Southwest Africa. The padrão’s appropriation by the Germans is both element and expression of the systematic structural injustice imposed on the indigenous population. The bedrock of this injustice was ideas such as the supposed racial superiority of the German people and their culture. As fundamental elements, such notions merged into an ideology that warranted racially motivated disrespect and legitimated exploiting the African population unscrupulously. 34 Accordingly, one can understand Namibia’s claim for returning the padrão as an expression of a legitimate, justice-based interest in its history Jörg Föh: Das Völkerrecht als Instrument der Wiedergutmachung? – Eine kritische Betrachtung am Beispiel des Herero-Aufstandes. In: Archiv des Völkerrechts 42 (2004) No. 3, pp. 294–328. 33 See http://genocide-namibia.net/wp-content/uploads/2017/01/Press-Release-2.pdf; http://genocide-namibia.net/wp-content/uploads/2017/01/Class-Action-Complaint. pdf (both retrieved Oct. 14, 2018); see additionally notes 30 and 43. 34 See Wolfram Hartmann: Making South West Africa German? Attempting Imperial, Juridical, Colonial, Conjugal and Moral Order. In: Journal of Namibian Studies 2 (2007), pp. 51–84, online https://namibian-studies.com/index.php/JNS/article/view/ 107/76 (retrieved Febr. 11, 2021).

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and culture. Among other things, Namibians are interested in being treated as equals and with appropriate respect by the descendants of their colonizers and the successor state of the colonial state. Above all, their colonization and racially motivated, ruthless discrimination have had social, economic, and cultural consequences that continue to impact them today. Furthermore, current and future Namibians are interested in coming to terms with their colonial past, particularly in understanding what it meant for their predecessors to suffer from colonization. Eventually, Namibia is investing in the Cape Cross area to make it a place of remembrance for the history of colonization. 35 Such efforts seem consistent with my interpretation of Namibian aspirations and why Namibia considers the padrão an object of cultural and historical significance. Declared a national monument as early as 1968, the site underwent several remodeling phases since 1974. 36 Currently, the Namibians have Diogo Cão’s original padrão in the form of a replica from 1980 on display onsite alongside the German replacement monument and other, more recent commemorative plaques. 37 These observations and considerations suggest that Namibia’s claim for returning the padrão reflects Namibians’ interest in cultural decolonization. We should consider several aspects of this interest. Namibians are interested in gaining interpretive sovereignty over the history of their colonization and the decolonization they seek. Other factors concern the Namibian population’s access to historical and cultural objects that qualify to aid in a critical reflection on the history of their “discovery” and colonization, including the aftereffects—and to commemorate the victims. One can understand the significance of these interests in a way that Namibians possess the “fundamental human right to keep their cultural artifacts for the development of their culture in their own way and at their own pace.” 38 Implementing this right is especially important while Namibia is in the midst of an ongoing process of decolonization that involves, among other things, the renewal and revitalization of its cultures formerly endangered by colonialism. Suppose we recognize the right to cultural self-determination. In that case, the right corresponds to the German Historical Museum and

35 See Hinz (note 1), p. 266. 36 See ibid., pp. 266 sq. 37 See Bridgeford and Bridgeford (note 31), p. 18; Claudia Buchwald: Objektgeschichte der Wappensäule von Kreuzkap. Unpublished object history, as of May 2018. Berlin 2018, p. 2. 38 Kwame Opoku: What Are They Really Celebrating at the Musée du Quai Branley, Paris? In: Modern Ghana, Apr. 30, 2016, https://www.modernghana.com/news/ 689178/what-are-they-really-celebrating-at-the-muse-du.html (retrieved Nov. 1, 2022).

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the German state’s duty to return the padrão. While we cannot state that returning the column is imperative for the Namibian people to realize their right to cultural self-determination, we have reason to believe that giving the padrão back would support the Namibians in exercising this right. Namibia has expressed a strong interest in the return of the padrão 39 and, as mentioned, has invested in the redevelopment of the padrão’s original installation site to turn the area into a place of remembrance. Moreover, returning the column is not particularly burdensome for the Germans. German experts have researched the artifact’s scientific and historical value for over a hundred years. Meanwhile, there seems to be little public or cultural interest in the object, whether in Berlin or the entire country. What’s more, aided by restitution, the Germans could enter into a process allowing Germany to come to terms with its past as a colonial power. Suppose one could interpret Portugal’s interest in returning the padrão to Portugal in a similarly future-oriented manner: as an interest of the Portuguese to come to terms with their history of “discovery” and colonization. In that case, we would have to weigh the conflicting interests in restitution and answer the question of whether to return the padrão to Namibia or Portugal. However, I am unaware that Portugal’s recently expressed interest in the column relies on (or could be conclusively substantiated with) any future-oriented significance that the Portuguese associate with the stele’s return to Portugal. I know no evidence that Portugal and the Portuguese have shown a strong interest in the three padrões previously repatriated to Portugal. So far, the steles seem not to have served as historical reference points for the Portuguese or fueled the process of critical reflection focusing on their history as a colonial power.

4 Concluding Remarks Suppose we understand the padrão as a preserved cultural and historical object that encapsulates the systematic structural injustice of the Germans and the German state in colonizing the local population and the population of what later became German Southwest Africa. In that case, we can substantiate Namibia’s move to reclaim the padrão, which the German authorities have returned in the meantime, based on a futureoriented approach. The Namibians aim at addressing a historical context of injustice for predominantly future-oriented reasons. On the one hand,

39 See Bridgeford and Bridgeford (note 31), p. 16.

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I have argued that Namibia is entitled to the padrão pro tanto in the sense of a moral claim for restitution. (Indeed, in my view, it is a moral claim). On the other hand, I have argued that, in my opinion, there can be no verifiable claim for restitution based on considerations of compensatory justice. Even if the removal of a historically and culturally significant object unquestionably constitutes a historical wrong, 40 the claim for restitution on compensatory grounds is often difficult to substantiate. Circumstances may have changed in a normatively meaningful way, namely in such a way that the claim for compensatory restitution no longer has any validity after being weighed against other claims that apply by that time. 41 Ideally, the padrão’s restitution to Namibia would reflect views shared by both sides—the successors of victims and perpetrators alike. In particular, such a joint approach should include the willingness to recognize systemic structural injustices, to engage in a process aimed at changing current and future relations in a mutually orchestrated and fair way, and to commit to the motto “Never again!” In the following remarks, I want to qualify this conclusion, which builds on my previous reflections. Whether the processes accompanying the padrão’s return can meet these expectations depends on several factors: Which justifications substantiate the claim for return? How do the parties involved discuss these justifications? And how do they implement the agreed-upon measures subsequently? Suppose we understand the claim in a future-oriented way, related to the context of injustice, and oriented towards a restitution process that includes building new relationships. In that case, a common understanding of the restitution claim’s justification enters the picture with broader consequences—for other claims arising from this context of injustice. A joint approach regarding the legitimacy of restitution claims is crucial for resolving questions about the legitimacy of reparation claims (that is, claims for material and monetary restitution as well as compensation based on historical wrongs committed during the colonial

40 See Jeremy Waldron: Superseding Historic Injustice. In: Ethics 103 (1992) No. 1, pp. 16–19; Chris Armstrong: Justice and Attachment to Natural Ressources. In: Journal of Political Philosophy 22 (2013) No. 1, pp. 48–65; Anna Stilz: Occupancy Rights and the Wrong of Removal. In: Philosophy and Public Affairs, 41 (2013) No. 4, pp. 424-356; Burke A. Hendrix: Ownership, Authority, and Self-Determination. University Park 2008. 41 See Jeremy Waldron: Historic Injustice. Its Remembrance and Supersession. In: Graham Oddie, Roy W. Perrett (Eds.): Justice, Ethics, and New Zealand Society. Auckland 1992, pp. 139–170; Lyons (note 5); Lukas Meyer, Timothy Waligore: Die Aufhebungsthese. Grundlinien einer Theorie des gerechten Umgangs mit historischem Unrecht. In: Frank Dietrich, Johannes Müller-Salo, Reinhold Schmücker (Eds.): Zeit – eine normative Ressource? Frankfurt on the Main 2018, pp. 215–230.

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period) and for the expeditious settlement concerning justified demands. After all, this seems to be a question of practical coherence. Suppose we commit ourselves to endeavors to overcome relations marked by structural injustice. In that case, it is inadequate if we do not address the demands for reparations due to those entitled in connection with historical injustice and expend efforts sufficient to compensate the wronged party. Conversely, the corresponding legitimacy of such compensating measures and reparations might be a reason to ignite a policy change, resulting in actions to challenge the warrantableness of the padrão’s restitution. Indeed, suppose we meet this demand on account of its forward-looking justification. In that case, the implications should alter conditions for other claims regarding compensation for colonial wrongs. The issue pertains to wrongs committed by Germans, the German military, and on behalf of the German state, particularly the genocide of the Ovaherero and Nama and the subsequent systematic mistreatment of the few surviving victims. In other words, it makes little sense to separate the discussion of the legitimacy and moral justification of the demand for the padrão’s restitution from the evaluation of colonial crimes. Properly understood, recognizing the claim for restitution, so I argue, takes several aspects into account. I refer to the conditions at the time of the column’s erection by the Portuguese and its subsequent removal by the Germans, the significance that the padrão and its replacement had in colonial times, and the meaning both have in Namibians’ efforts at decolonization today. Decolonization can imply a process of winning cultural independence. It is a prerequisite for Namibians to come to terms with their history, to speak out on the conditions of their “discovery” and the colonization of their country, complete with the continuing effects, and to remember the victims of historical injustice and specific crimes. Second, if we understand the restitution claim in a future-oriented sense—namely, because it is about cultural decolonization—then we must ask which entities are entitled to make restitution claims when it comes to the victims of German colonialism in South West Africa and their descendants. According to the common understanding of international law, the state of Namibia is considered the legitimate representative. It can claim responsibility for decolonization as part of a process in which the country’s present and future citizens strive to achieve cultural independence and realize their right to self-determination. 42 However, spokespersons for the Ovaherero and Nama have appeared on the scene and deny that the state of Namibia holds the exclusive right to 42 See note 25.

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represent the interests of the genocide’s direct and indirect victims. It is not the State of Namibia that took action in the USA but representatives of the Ovaherero and Nama; they have appeared as class action plaintiffs against Germany in court in the Southern District of New York. The Ovaherero and Nama’s representatives sought compensation for the illegal taking of property, systematic mistreatment, and genocide—and recognition of independent status for their groups in the ongoing negotiations between Namibia and Germany. The plaintiffs demanded that the Federal Republic of Germany (and the Namibian state) should refrain from “continuing to exclude plaintiffs and other lawful representatives of the Ovaherero and Nama people from participation in discussions and negotiations regarding the subject of this Complaint, in violation of plaintiffs’ rights under international law, including the U.N. Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous People to self-determination for all indigenous peoples and their right to participate and speak for themselves regarding all matters relating to the losses that they have suffered.” 43

More generally, if we want to build on a forward-looking understanding of the restitution claim, we must ask ourselves which entities are in a position to represent the interests of people living in Namibia today regarding the reappraisal of their history. The state of Namibia may not be the sole bearer of the claim for the padrão’s restitution because arguably the most relevant victim groups do not accept the state’s exclusive authority in this matter and are pursuing their own strategies. The future-oriented approach to a historical context of injustice and the elements it exactly comprises is still widely disputed. An example is a conflict between Japan and South Korea over how to appropriately deal with the injustices committed by Japan as a colonial power and warring party during World War II in Korea and against Koreans. The conflict escalated in 2018 and 2019. Among other issues, this case involved questions about the coherence of claims and the policies defining claimants and obligated parties. For example, concerning the Korean “comfort women” forced into prostitution by Japan, the few surviving victims and the victims’ descendants dispute that the state of South Korea was entitled to settle their claims conclusively by contract with Japan in the 1965 Treaty on Basic Relations between Japan and the Republic of Korea. The former forced laborers also rejected this treaty as void ex nunc. In the resulting debate, participants discussed the validity of the Comfort Women’s claims along 43 Class Action Complaint against the Federal Republic of Germany, Jan. 5, 2017, http://genocide-namibia.net/wp-content/uploads/2017/01/Class-Action-Complaint. pdf (retrieved Nov. 2, 2022), pp. 1–2. See additionally note 34. In early March 2019, the court rejected the Complaint on the grounds that Germany could claim immunity.

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the same lines as the forced laborers’ entitlement to compensation. In 2018, South Korea’s Supreme Court recognized individual victims as plaintiffs and awarded former Korean forced laborers the right to pursue individual compensation claims against Japanese companies. 44 I have introduced a third interpretation regarding the Namibian interest in the padrão’s restitution, namely the interest of Namibians to commemorate the victims of the colonial period in a meaningful way and to establish a framework for symbolic acts of reconciliation. It is crucial to understand, and this is my third specification, that the Namibians’ interest follows its particular internal logic. After all, the rationale is independent of the principle of compensatory justice and the demand for cultural decolonization. Even if Namibians had their compensation claims fully met and realized their right to cultural self-determination to the best of their ability, the descendants and successors of the victims (as well as the perpetrators) may be interested in relating to the past victims of colonialism. According to my interpretation, they have a well-founded interest in publicly recognizing the historical injustice as such and to fulfill their surviving duties towards the deceased victims. They have good reasons to understand themselves as bearers of the surviving duty to respond to the crimes committed against their deceased predecessors—and to do so in a way that makes clear that their predecessors were victims of these injustices and had claims to restitution and compensation but that the perpetrators failed to fulfill these claims. There is a challenge in linking this very idea to the padrão’s return to Namibia. One has to prove the argument plausible that a returned padrão would essentially assist present and future Namibians to meet their surviving duties of symbolic restitution towards the deceased victims. Finally, I would like to emphasize that the Portuguese and the Germans (who, as descendants of the perpetrators, also can be understood as bearers of surviving duties towards the deceased victims) could also claim an interest in reclaiming or keeping the padrão using similar arguments. If these claims were plausible, we would have to weigh them against the thencompeting interest of the Namibians in the padrão’s return. So far, I see no evidence of such an interest on the part of the Portuguese or the Germans in commemorating the victims of colonial crimes committed by their

44 See Alexandra Sakaki: Japan-South Korea Relations—A Downward Spiral. More than “Just” Historical Issues. SWP Comment 2019/C 35. German Institute for International and Security Affairs, Aug. 2019; Timothy Webster: The Price of Settlement. World War II Reparations in China, Japan and Korea. New York University Journal of International Law & Politics 51 (2019) No. 301, pp. 301–384.

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respective predecessors. Moreover, I do not see evidence that the padrão is accorded special significance as a cultural and historical object or that remembrance practices might develop around the historical monument in Portugal or Germany.

III. A Postcolonial Germany?

Andreas Eckert

The “Rediscovery” of German Colonialism 1 Searching for the Blind Spots in History At the end of January 2020, Berlin’s Senator for Culture, Klaus Lederer, announced that the capital city from now on wanted to come to terms with its colonial past in a comprehensive way. At a joint press conference, Lederer, Tahir Della of the Initiative Schwarze Menschen in Deutschland, and Paul Spies, director of the Berlin City Museum, presented a broadranging project. The model project would reveal “that colonialism and racism—but also resistance to it—continue to shape urban societies [in Europe] and the former colonies to the present day.” The German Federal Cultural Foundation would contribute one million euros to the project. Hortensia Völkers, the foundation’s representative, added: “Colonialism and its legacies, still effective today, are among the blind spots of history.” Hamburg, another German city featuring a well-known history of colonial enterprising (the Hamburg port was the most important hub of colonial trade during the German Empire and continued to profit massively from colonial structures in the world economy even after the end of the colonial period), has already a City-Senate-funded research center in place. Headed by the historian Jürgen Zimmerer, who has received a great deal of media attention, the center succeeded to accumulate numerous third-partyfunded projects under the umbrella of the University of Hamburg and began to research “Hamburg’s (Post-)Colonial Legacy” several years ago. 1

1 See the newspaper issues of taz and Süddeutsche Zeitung, Jan. 31, 2020. The project Dekoloniale Erinnerungskulturen in der Stadt (i.e., Decolonizing Cultures of Remembrance in the City) began its work in the fall of 2020; on the Hamburg institution, see www.kolonialismus.uni-hamburg.de (retrieved May 4, 2020). At the time, other European cities started similar initiatives, esp. concerning the slave trade. Nantes, for example, the largest slave-trading port in France in the 18th century, began an intensive reappraisal in the 1990s and addressed the influence the human trade had on the city’s development. See Olivier Pétré-Grenouilleau: Nantes au temps de la traite

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There has been no shortage of reminders to come to terms with Germany’s colonial past lately. For example, numerous scholars signed the appeal “What we need now. In favor of restitution and a new approach to colonial history,” published in the weekly Zeit in December 2018. They called for, among other things: (1) sustained support for both initiatives trying to come to terms with local colonial history and researchers working on the topic of colonialism; (2) more prominent anchoring of the topic in schools and other public educational institutions’ curricula; (3) support for the numerous organizations and institutions dedicated to provenance research and restitution issues, both in Germany and in the countries of origin; and (4) establishing a central institution in Berlin, which would bundle the already accumulated relevant knowledge and network the numerous initiatives. 2 Almost at the same time, Monika Grütters, Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and Media, and Michelle Müntefering, Head of the Department of Cultural Affairs in the Federal Foreign Office, published a warning that Germany and Europe must face up to their colonial history. In their piece “A Gap in Our Memory,” they state: “For many decades, there was a blind spot in Europe’s remembrance culture: colonial history. For far too long, the injustices that occurred during that time fell into oblivion, and the memories were suppressed.” 3

Before that, the then-new federal government of CDU/CSU and SPD had mentioned colonialism in the coalition agreement, adopted on March 12, 2018, for the first time at the governmental level. “We want to strengthen cultural cooperation with Africa and promote greater cultural exchange, especially by coming to terms with colonialism and establishing museums and cultural institutions in Africa.” 4

des noirs. Paris 1998; Mémoire de l’abolition de l’esclavage, www.memorial.nantes.fr (retrieved May 4, 2020). 2 See the issue of the weekly Zeit, Dec. 13, 2018. The appeal gave rise to an online conference organized in Oct. 2020 under the auspices of the German Foreign Office (“Colonialism as Shared History: Past, Present, and Future”). In her keynote lecture, the Kenyan writer Yvonne A. Owuor sharply criticized the conference’s concept of addressing colonialism as “shared history.” See Yvonne A. Owuor, Derelict Shards & The Roaming of Colonial Phantoms, www.theelephant.info. Additionally, Jürgen Zimmerer criticized in the run-up to the conference that the selection of topics did not include the genocide of the Herero and Nama. See Jürgen Zimmerer, Das Auswärtige Amt ist ungeeignet für die Aufarbeitung deutscher Kolonialgeschichte. In: Tagesspiegel, Oct. 6, 2020. 3 Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Dec. 14, 2018. 4 https://www.cdu.de/system/tdf/media/dokumente/koalitionsvertrag_2018.pdf?file= 1 (retrieved Nov. 22, 2019). The coalition agreement of the “traffic light coalition,” in power since the end of 2021, equally emphasizes the need “to overcome colonial con-

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Finally, on November 19, 2020, the Bundestag debated how to deal with colonialism at the request of the Green Party. Except for representatives of the AfD parliamentary group, no one attempted to gloss over or justify colonial rule. However, opinions differed widely on how far the critical reappraisal had progressed and in what form it should be continued. In the preceding months, public interest in the topic manifested, among other things, in disputes over monuments—for example, the Bismarck monument in Hamburg—and the renaming of streets. Moreover, George Floyd’s death at the hands of police officers in Minneapolis in May 2020 led to further debates in Germany about racism and the long shadow of colonial structures. The boom in the topic of “German colonialism” prompted journalists to publish thematic issues in newspapers and magazines as well as nonfiction books aimed at a larger audience. 5 The German Historical Museum in Berlin featured an exhibition, “German Colonialism. Fragments of its Past and Present,” from October 2016 to May 2017. The venue drew some criticism; nevertheless, the exhibition was one of the best-attended in the museum’s history, attracting more than 100,000 visitors. 6 The topic of colonialism, previously merely relevant to experts, was now becoming “suitable for the masses” and “relevant on a national scale,” ethnologist Thomas Thiemeyer summarized the development. 7 The discussions about the Berlin Humboldt Forum and the restitution of objects (and human remains)—which in many cases were retrieved in the context of colonial rule from non-European regions and had ended up in the museums of European metropolises—have undoubtedly fueled the debate about German colonialism. At times, however, in their doggedness, the controversies surrounding the Humboldt Forum give the impression that this institution, as it were, has to shoulder the responsibility to

tinuities” and to address Germany’s colonial past. See https://www.bundesregierung. de/resource/blob/974430/1990812/04221173eef9a6720059cc353d759a2b/2021-1210-koav2021-data.pdf?download=1 (retrieved Jan. 2, 2022). 5 See Zeit Geschichte 4/2019: Die Deutschen und ihre Kolonien. Das wilhelminische Weltreich 1884 bis 1918. See additionally Mark Terkessides: Wessen Erinnerung zählt? Koloniale Vergangenheit und Rassismus heute. Hamburg 2019; Moritz Holfelder: Unser Raubgut. Eine Streitschrift zur kolonialen Debatte. Berlin 2019. 6 See the exhibition catalog Deutsches Historisches Museum (Ed.): Deutscher Kolonialismus. Fragmente seiner Geschichte und Gegenwart. Darmstadt 2nd ed. 2017. See for notes Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Oct. 21, 2016; taz, Oct. 16, 2016. 7 See Thomas Thiemeyer: Deutschland postkolonial. Ethnologische und genealogische Erinnerungskultur. In: Merkur 806 (2016), pp. 33–45, esp. pp. 34 f. See also Thiemeyer’s contribution to this volume.

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pay for the entire colonial debt. 8 The question remains how to explain the current, comparatively intense interest in the topic of colonialism, which is present not only in academia but in (parts of) the public sphere and political arena. Not least, so my preliminary assessment, the boom indicates a readjustment in remembrance culture. The Federal Republic’s commemoration politics seems to move partly from the Holocaust to globalization. In this way, the change in interest marks the changing role of Germany in the international context. 9 However, the fact that this readjustment is highly controversial became apparent in the spring and summer of 2020 in the so-called Causa Mbembe. The Cameroonian historian Achille Mbembe, today living in South Africa, is one of the representatives of postcolonial theory enjoying wide international attention. Lately, Mbembe has become known in Germany thanks to translations of some of his works published by Suhrkamp. Nonetheless, led by Felix Klein, the German government’s Commissioner against antiSemitism, Mbembe was accused of anti-Semitism, Holocaust trivialization, and Israel hatred. Mbembe’s defenders, on the other hand, saw racism and McCarthyism at work in these accusations. The controversy quickly expanded into a wide-ranging debate about memory, the Holocaust, and “German identity.” 10 In this context, Felix Klein articulated remarkable small-mindedness concerning the issue. Mbembe, a “foreign” scientist in Klein’s view, had “intervened” in a debate that was, as it were, part of German identity, Klein announced. In doing so, Mbembe had “formulated misleading sentences.” Klein demanded, “He must now clarify that.” The commissioner continued that a statement “that is wrong from a German point of view doesn’t become right just because [the call] comes from the outside in.” 11 Concealed

8 See Daniel Morat: Katalysator wider Willen. Das Humboldt Forum in Berlin und die deutsche Kolonialvergangenheit. In: Zeithistorische Forschungen 16 (2019) No. 1, pp. 140–153. 9 See regarding the commemoration of the Holocaust from the wealth of literature: Nicolas Berg: Der Holocaust und die westdeutschen Historiker. Erforschung und Erinnerung. Goettingen 2003; Margit Frölich et al. (Eds.): Das Unbehagen an der Erinnerung. Wandlungsprozesse im Gedenken an den Holocaust. Frankfurt on the Main 2012; Sybille Steinbacher: Auschwitz. Geschichte und Nachgeschichte. Munich 4th ed. 2017. On the many aspects of the new way of dealing with colonial history in Germany, see most recently: Marianne Bechhaus-Gerst, Joachim Zeller (Eds.): Deutschland Postkolonial? Die Gegenwart der imperialen Vergangenheit. Berlin 2018. 10 For a comprehensive account of the controversy, which I cannot present in detail here, see Matthias Böckmann et al. (Eds.): Jenseits von Mbembe – Geschichte, Erinnerung, Solidarität. Berlin 2022. 11 Felix Klein: Für eine Entschuldigung sehe ich keinen Anlass. (Interview by Adam Soboczynski) In: Zeit, May 20, 2020.

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behind these assertions is a highly problematic understanding, which the jurist Ralf Michaelis described as follows: “Since we Germans are responsible for the Holocaust, we now take the moral right, over and above, to dictate to others what they have to say about it.” 12

At the same time, this attitude goes hand in hand with the limited outlook that one does not want to take note of and cannot accept particular facts. The journalist Charlotte Wiedemann has succinctly put it: Many people in the world “do not share our [i.e., the Germans] history of perpetration, have a differing view of Israel,” and value it a “white privilege” to commemorate nothing but the Holocaust. With a view to Black intellectuals such as W. E. B. Du Bois or Aimé Césaire referring to colonial offenses, one cannot conclude that referencing other crimes inevitably means trivializing the Shoah. 13

2 Colonial Past and Commemorative Practices For the most part, it has been Black and People of Color (BPoC) who have initiated the debate about the long shadow of colonialism and racism in Germany and persistently addressed the need that the German society faced up to its colonial past. 14 Concerning colonial times, how12 Ralf Michaelis: Deutschstunde für alle Welt. Denkverbot im Namen der Erinnerungskultur. Die Debatte um Achille Mbembe kommt nicht zur Sache – und zeigt dadurch, wie nötig die Kritik der kolonialen Denkungsart ist. In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, June 8, 2020. 13 Charlotte Wiedemann: Deutsche Gedenkkultur. Privileg und Gedenken. In: taz, May 13, 2020. Ingo Elbe offers an equally aggressive and insubstantial critique of the supposed anti-Semitism of postcolonial approaches: Die postkoloniale Schablone. In: taz online, May 14, 2020, https://taz.de/Debatte-um-Historiker-Achille-Mbembe/!5685526/ (retrieved Sept. 3, 2020). For a more differentiated perspective and broader assessment, see Michael Rothberg: Vergleiche vergleichen. Vom Historikerstreit zur Causa Mbembe. In: Geschichte der Gegenwart, Sept. 23, 2020, https://geschichtedergegenwart. ch/vergleiche-vergleichen-vom-historikerstreit-zur-causa-mbembe (retrieved Sept. 25, 2020). The debate became even more agitated after the publication of Dirk Moses: Der Katechismus der Deutschen. In: Geschichte der Gegenwart, Mai 23, 2021, https:// geschichtedergegenwart.ch/der-katechismus-der-deutschen (retrieved Aug. 22, 2022). For a variety of perspectives on this controversy, see Susan Neimann and Michael Wildt (Eds.): Historiker streiten. Gewalt und Holocaust – die Debatte. Berlin 2022. 14 The volume by May Ayim et al.: Farbe bekennen. Afrodeutsche Frauen auf den Spuren ihrer Geschichte. Berlin 1986 marked an important turning point. In the same year, activists founded the Initiative of Black People in Germany (ISD). See Tahir Della, Bebero Lehmann: Afrodeutsche und eine deutsche Afrikapolitik. Zwischen kritischer Aufarbeitung und kolonialen Kontinuitäten. In: Henning Melber (Ed.): Deutschland und Afrika. Anatomie eines komplexen Verhältnisses. Frankfurt on the Main 2019, pp. 197–208.

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ever, commemoration politics were in the making immediately after the formal end of the German colonial empire: in the form of revisionism, nostalgia, contributions to popular culture, and, since the 1960s, bit-by-bit emerging perspectives critical of colonialism. The interest in the topic of colonialism seems to intensify with greater temporal distance. In this context, some invoke the image of a long-lasting “collective amnesia of all things colonial,” which, so the assertion, seems to be slowly fading now. 15 Is there an advantage in lending a medical term when conceptualizing the trends in commemorative practices? After the formal end of the German colonial empire in 1918/19, we can identify several phases of interest in German colonial history, each more defined by the matters of the respective moment than by the past. When the topic of colonial history stirred up the public discourse, “it was about more than the colonial past; in each phase, contemporaries included renegotiating social changes as well as Germany’s role in the world.” 16 In the Weimar Republic, proponents of colonial revisionism made themselves heard, and during National Socialism, plans for a renewed German colonial empire in Africa took shape. However, after the Nazi regime’s aggressive settlement activities and brutal campaigns of conquest in Eastern Europe, which bore pronounced colonial features, the end of World War II also marked the end of almost all plans for territorial rule and colonial expansion in Germany. Colonial patterns of perception and notions typical of the time, however, continued to have an impact in a variety of ways. As Christiane Bürger, for instance, points out, they were “also unconsciously conveyed, as ‘sneak-ins’ as it were, via language conventions and established narrative perspectives.” 17 One could find colonial notions, for example, in development policy. Thus, in the Cold War, the Federal

15 Jürgen Zimmerer: Kolonialismus und koloniale Identität. Erinnerungsorte der deutschen Kolonialgeschichte. In: Idem (Ed.): Kein Platz an der Sonne. Erinnerungsorte der deutschen Kolonialgeschichte. Frankfurt on the Main, New York 2012, pp. 9– 38, quote p. 9. Besides, several authors use the image of German colonial amnesia. See Reinhart Kößler, Henning Melber: Koloniale Amnesie. Zum Umgang mit der deutschen Kolonialvergangenheit (Rosa Luxemburg Stiftung, Standpunkte 9/2018). Berlin 2018; Reinhart Kößler: Zwischen kolonialer Amnesie und konstruktivem Engagement. Postkoloniale Asymmetrien. In: Melber (note 14), pp. 187–196. 16 Sebastian Conrad: Rückkehr des Verdrängten? Die Erinnerung an den Kolonialismus in Deutschland 1919–2019. In: Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte (2019) No. 40–42. See also Andreas Eckert: The First Postcolonial Nation in Europe? The End of the German Empire. In: Martin Thomas, Andrew S. Thompson (Eds.): The Oxford Handbook of the Ends of Empire. Oxford 2018, pp. 102–122. 17 Christiane Bürger: Deutsche Kolonialgeschichte(n). Der Genozid in Namibia und die Geschichtsschreibung der DDR und BRD. Bielefeld 2017, p. 269.

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Republic of Germany and the German Democratic Republic played out the systemic competition in post-colonial Africa. However, colonial notions have also left their mark on the legacy of Albert Schweitzer, the mystified “jungle doctor,” or on the scripts for Bernard Grzimek’s wildlife films. 18 The sixties were a time of awakening and decolonization. The Federal Republic saw for the first time a critical, though, in the end, quite limited, examination of colonialism. 19 Ralph Giordano’s questioning documentary titled “Heia Safari—die Legende von der deutschen Kolonialidylle” (i.e., Hurrah! Safari—the Legend of the German Colonial Idyll) broadcast by Westdeutscher Rundfunk (WDR) in 1966/67 caused a sensation. However, as documents in the WDR archive show, several TV viewers sent letters to the public-broadcasting institution complaining that they did not want their idea of good German colonialism taken away or that the WDR rehashed this supposedly long-gone past. 20 At the same time, the liberation movements in the “Third World” exerted a particular fascination on the upcoming student movement; however, the students dealt with the legacy of German colonialism in a relatively limited and superficial way. 21 Nonetheless, the universities were the hubs for the rising trend of appraising Germany’s colonial past critically. Admittedly, most of the activities, such as tearing down the monuments to the two German colonial administrators Hermann von Wissmann and Hans Dominik at the University of Hamburg, were primarily a critique of the supposedly continuing

18 For an early contribution directly after the turn of the millennium, see Andreas Eckert, Albert Wirz: Wir nicht, die anderen auch. Deutschland und der Kolonialismus. In: Sebastian Conrad, Shalini Randeria (Eds.): Jenseits des Eurozentrismus. Postkoloniale Perspektiven in den Geschichts- und Kulturwissenschaften. Frankfurt on the Main, New York 2002, pp. 372–392. 19 The GDR was a pioneer in this respect, esp. since anti-imperialism was part of the state’s self-image. Discerning research on German colonialism, favored by privileged access to the files of the Imperial Colonial Office archived in Potsdam (in the GDR), would have to include at least side remarks on the “neocolonial” Federal Republic. Nevertheless, GDR historians produced empirically dense studies on German colonies that laid substantial foundations for further research providing a considerable body of reference literature for the historiography of German colonialism. See, for example, Helmuth Stoecker (Ed.): Kamerun unter deutscher Kolonialherrschaft. 2 Vol. Berlin 1960, 1968; Peter Sebald: Togo 1884–1914. Eine Geschichte der deutschen “Musterkolonie” auf der Grundlage amtlicher Quellen. Berlin 1988. 20 See Eckard Michels: Geschichtspolitik im Fernsehen: die WDR-Dokumentation “Heia Safari” von 1966/67 über Deutschlands Kolonialvergangenheit. In: Vierteljahreshefte für Zeitgeschichte 56 (2008) No. 3, pp. 467–492. 21 See Andreas Eckert: “Was geht mich eigentlich Vietnam an?” Internationale Solidarität und “Dritte Welt” in der Bundesrepublik. In: Axel Schildt (Ed.): Von Draußen. Ausländische intellektuelle Einflüsse in der Bundesrepublik bis 1990. Goettingen 2016, pp. 191–210.

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“fascist” policies and university structures rather than a contribution to an informed debate about colonialism. 22 In the seventies, eighties, and early nineties, the topic of colonialism stood somewhat apart from the then-ongoing debates about German history and its consequences up to the present. Subsequently, not surprisingly, voices with a postcolonial perspective came to play a central role in re-igniting the debate about Germany’s colonial past. Complementary approaches, which initially emerged primarily in North American cultural and literary studies, shared the conviction that colonialism was not over. Or, to put it another way: The bedrock that enabled and sustained and legitimized colonialism is still an essential part of our world—on political, cultural, social, and, not least, economic levels. Since Edward Said’s study on “Orientalism,” science and the application of clichéd analytical models, particularly, have become the object of postcolonial critique. Said revealed that scientific texts presented the description of “other peoples” not without presuppositions and in a neutral way but relying on constructions deriving from the context of unequal, meaning colonial, power relations. Meanwhile, other scholars have justifiably questioned Said over locating power potential and actual exercise of power in an almost essentialist manner with the colonial rulers and denying the colonized any agency. However, his work promoted the fundamental insight that the discursive order of the colonial epoch did not automatically end with the downfall of the colonial governments. Moreover, he diligently opposed dichotomous perceptions like “the West and the Rest,” that is, perspectives that categorically separate Western developments from constellations in the rest of the world. 23 The most important accomplishment of advocates of postcolonial perspectives is sharing insight and drawing attention to the fact that we cannot separate the growing interconnectedness we have witnessed in the world since the 19th century from the underlying colonial conditions. Colonialism was central in forming the world’s political order and fabricating its legal

22 See Ingo Cornils: Denkmalsturz. The German Student Movement and German Colonialism. In: Michael Perraudin, Jürgen Zimmerer (Eds.): German Colonialism and National Identity. New York 2011, pp. 197–212. 23 See Edward W. Said: Orientalism. New York 1979. Meanwhile, studies on colonialism from a postcolonial perspective are piling up into mountains in libraries. Two contributions offer a good introduction: Ina Kerner: Postkoloniale Theorien zur Einführung. Hamburg 2012; María do Mar Castro Verela, Nikita Dhawan: Postkoloniale Theorie. Eine kritische Einführung. Bielefeld 3rd ed. 2020.

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foundation and ideological legitimation and contributed substantially to processes of cultural appropriation and social transformations. 24 Postcolonial studies have put a wide range of topics and questions on the agenda of historiography and added to the research on German colonialism formerly conducted following more conventional scientific strategies. 25 In brief, I want to name a few of these new aspects: the history of Black people in Germany, the representation of Black Germans, the construction of “white femininities,” the visualization of colonial stereotypes in postcard motifs, and questions around colonial memorial sites. Besides, researchers began to pursue colonial traces in Berlin, but soon others followed in cities such as Hamburg, Freiburg, or Bielefeld. The resulting studies added more complexity to our image of the colonial experience. They gave weight to the perspective on the “empire at home,” the role of colonial discourses, and questions of representation. The analysis of German “imperial fantasies” also brought to light a widely ramified culture that impacted everyday life in Germany far beyond organized colonial interests. 26 Finally, the biggest splash, regarded by some as the ultimate breach of taboo, made Jürgen Zimmerer’s hypothesis. Based on the findings concerning the genocide of the Herero and Nama in German South West Africa, he argues that the willingness to exterminate specific groups of people first took shape in the German colonies and finally found its most radical expression in the Holocaust. 27 Zimmerer’s view of a path “from Windhoek to Auschwitz” had many productive effects on the historical 24 Eventually, representatives of global history have emphasized the critical significance of the (post)colonialism debate. See Sebastian Conrad: What is Global History? Princeton 2016. 25 Exemplary for the latter approach, see Horst Gründer: Geschichte der deutschen Kolonien. Paderborn 7th ed. 2018. 26 See Fatima El-Tayeb: Schwarze Deutsche. Der Diskurs um “Rasse” und nationale Identität 1890–1933. Frankfurt on the Main 2001; Anette Dietrich: Weiße Weiblichkeiten. Konstruktion von “Rasse” und Geschlecht im deutschen Kolonialismus. Bielefeld 2007; Robbie Aitken, Eve Rosenhaft: Black Germany. The Making and Unmaking of a Diaspora Community, 1884–1960. Cambridge 2013; Sandra Maß: Weiße Helden, schwarze Krieger. Zur Geschichte kolonialer Männlichkeit in Deutschland 1918–1964. Cologne 2006; Felix Axster: Koloniales Spektakel in 9 × 14. Bildpostkarten im Deutschen Kaiserreich. Bielefeld 2014; Britta Schilling: Postcolonial Germany. Memories of Empire in a Decolonized Nation. Oxford 2014; Ulrich van der Heyden, Joachim Zeller (Eds.): Kolonialismus hierzulande. Eine Spurensuche. Erfurt 2007; Felix Brahm, Bettina Brockmeyer (Eds.): Koloniale Spurensuche in Bielefeld und Umgebung. Bielefeld 2014; Bernd-Stefan Grewe et al. (Eds.): Freiburg und der Kolonialismus. Vom Kaiserreich bis zum Nationalsozialismus. Freiburg i. Br. 2019; Zimmerer (note 15). 27 See Zimmerer’s main essays on the subject in: Jürgen Zimmerer: Von Windhuk nach Auschwitz? Beiträge zum Verhältnis von Kolonialismus und Holocaust. Berlin 2011. See additionally Susanne Kuß: Deutsches Militär auf kolonialen Kriegsschauplätzen. Eskalation von Gewalt zu Beginn des 20. Jahrhunderts. Berlin 2010; Isabell V. Hull: Absolute Destruction. Military Culture and the Practices of War in Imperial Germany.

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debate about the significance of colonial practices for Imperial Germany. At the same time, however, critics have described his approach with some justification as a particularly bold resurgence of the Sonderweg theory in the context of colonial history. Such a view of German history examines national trends through the microscope but largely fails to interpret antiSemitism, racism, and colonialism as European transnational phenomena. 28 The national perspective is characteristic of the studies on German colonialism. In Germany, the boom in historical research regarding colonial times is strongly limited to studies of the German case. 29 On the one hand, this is understandable given the long neglect of the topic. On the other hand, this focus squanders the potential contribution of more comparative European perspectives. Most importantly, the historical developments in other modern European colonial empires—England, France, Portugal, and Spain—are rarely considered by German-speaking historians. In this light, broadening the research field would help substantially to contextualize the German case. Is the predominance of such narrowly defined approaches related to the fact that topics focusing on Germany are still the most promising to build on a career in German academia? Even though studies focus on colonialism or global perspectives concerning German history nowadays, the history of the European countries mentioned above still seems to be marginalized, even measured by the respective number of professorships. Although the reference to Europe appears regularly, one finds rarely systematically integrated European perspectives in German scholarly studies or political manifestos on colonialism, except in the title. Besides, many studies on the German colonies have devoted themselves to a rather metropolitan-oriented colonial history, which is relatively uninterested in the conditions in the colonies or the colonized (except in them functioning as a projection surface). Indeed, this finding holds regarding questions

Ithaca 2005; Matthias Häussler: Der Genozid an den Herero. Krieg, Emotion und extreme Gewalt in Deutsch-Südwestafrika. Osnabrück 2018; Andreas Eckert: Labor der Gewalt? Europäische Imperien und koloniale Kriege. In: Günter Stock et al. (Eds.): Zukunftsort: Europa. Berlin, Boston 2015, pp. 31–41. 28 See Robert Gerwarth, Stephan Malinowski: Der Holocaust als “kolonialer Genozid?” Europäische Kolonialgewalt und nationalsozialistischer Vernichtungskrieg. In: Geschichte und Gesellschaft 33 (2007), pp. 439–466; Jürgen Kocka: German History before Hitler. The Debate about the German Sonderweg. In: Journal of Contemporary History 23 (1988) No. 1, pp. 3–16. 29 See Bradley Naranch, Geoff Eley (Eds.): German Colonialism in a Global Age. Durham 2014.

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about commemoration and politics of remembrance in the former German colonies. 30

3 Globalization of Memory? Interconnections and the Voices of the “Others” Nevertheless, from experience, one might say that it gets harder to lock the memories of the colonial era into the respective national cages. The disputes over the Herero and Nama’s claims for reparations related to the genocide committed against them give an example. After a petition filed in 2001 was unsuccessful, representatives from Namibia and the diaspora filed another suit on behalf of these groups in a U.S. federal court in New York in January 2017. Apart from demanding direct reparations, the main issue was altering the negotiation team’s composition for the governmental talks between Germany and Namibia on how to deal with the genocide. The main complaint was about the government’s solo effort to select representatives for the talks, ongoing since 2015, and demanded to broaden the base of the Herero and Nama’s representatives allowed to participate in the negotiations, enclosing those living abroad. In doing so, the plaintiffs referred to a United Nations declaration adopted in 2007. The “Declaration of Rights for Indigenous Peoples” explicitly stipulates that indigenous minorities must be involved in all negotiations affecting them through self-elected representatives—corresponding to the motto “Nothing about us without us.” 31 Although the New York court dismissed the complaint in March 2019, the case became an international media event, leading to extensive coverage in well-recognized newspapers. Le Monde and Washington Post, for example, featured German colonial crimes and the German government’s continued refusal to apologize adequately. When the Bundestag passed a resolution in June 2016 calling the killing of approximately 1.5 million Armenians in the Ottoman Empire during World War I a genocide, Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdo˘gan responded highly irritated. Erdo˘gan pointed out that Germany should first account for the genocide in Namibia before daring to accuse Turkey of the Armenian genocide.

30 An exception is the contribution of Larissa Förster. See Larissa Förster: Postkoloniale Erinnerungslandschaften. Wie Deutsche und Herero in Namibia des Kriegs von 1904 gedenken. Frankfurt on the Main 2010. 31 Jürgen Zimmerer: Schwierige (post-)koloniale Aussöhnung. Deutschland, Namibia und der Völkermord an den Herero und Nama. In: Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte (2019) No. 40–42, p. 5.

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The then President of the Bundestag, Norbert Lammert, had to concede, apparently contrite, that the lack of a “similarly unequivocal declaration” on Namibia, as the one now available from the German side on Armenia, was “regrettable and, in the context of the more recent disputes, also somewhat embarrassing.” 32 Still, one has to concede that voices from the former German colonies, or generally voices from Africa, are missing in the debates in Germany. Exemplarily, the disputes over the restitution of colonial artifacts and art objects revealed the void. However, exceptions prove the rule. The Senegalese economist Felwine Sarr is a sought-after contributor to talk shows, interviews, and public events, especially after French President Emmanuel Macron had commissioned a study on restitution concerning African objects currently in possession of French museums and entrusted Sarr and the art historian Bénédicte Savoy, renowned and teaching in Berlin and Paris, with the task. 33 Furthermore, when Achille Mbembe spoke out on questions of looted art from colonial times, sometimes surprising the audience with a twist, as it happened, his remarks attracted attention. At a conference in Hamburg in May 2018, Mbembe startled the audience when he linked their commitment to returning objects to countries of origin with the commitment of those who are more concerned with returning people. “Do we really want to live in a world where everyone and everything has to go back home?” The entanglement of the world is irreversible, he said. Instead of seeking restitution, we should rather think about concepts of sharing to liberate not only objects from property thinking but also people. 34 And a few months later, in his acceptance speech for the Gerda Henkel Prize in Düsseldorf, he argued that it could be that the restitution of African art objects offered an opportunity for Europe to gain a good conscience on the cheap. 35 However, the truth is, 32 Reinhart Kößler, Henning Melber: Völkermord – und was dann? Die Politik deutschnamibischer Vergangenheitsbewältigung. Frankfurt on the Main 2017, p. 82. See additionally Henning Melber (Ed.): Genozid und Gedenken. Namibisch-deutsche Geschichte und Gegenwart. Frankfurt on the Main 2005; Henning Melber: Germany and Namibia: Negotiating Genocide. In: Journal of Genocide Research 22 (2020) No. 4, pp. 502–514. Meanwhile, the German government came forward to make amends for colonial crimes; however, Namibia’s President Hage Geingob rejected the offer of compensation as “unacceptable” in Aug. 2020. In May 2021, the two governments reached an agreement, which, however, was still criticized as insufficient by representatives of the Herero and Nama. 33 See Felwine Sarr, Bénédicte Savoy: Restituer le Patrimoine Africain. Paris 2018. 34 Achille Mbembe, quoted in: Jörg Häntzschel: Neue Kultur des Teilens. In: Süddeutsche Zeitung, May 22, 2018. 35 Achille Mbembe: Restitution ist nicht genug. In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Oct. 9, 2018.

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he stressed, “that Europe has taken things from us that it can never give back to us.” Curator Flower Manase of the National Museum of Tanzania in Dar es Salaam struck a critical note in an interview published in the weekly Zeit: “At large, the currently raging debate about returning African artworks from Europe is completely disregarding us. The focus shouldn’t be on European museums, but on us, on what is happening in Africa. Our wishes and interests, however, apparently play no role. Who asked us, for that matter, what we Africans want?” 36

At any rate, African intellectuals and museum curators see the European debate on the restitution of looted objects as an opportunity to persuade their political classes to put more money into the domestic museum infrastructure. Archaeologists Aba Eyifa-Dzidzieno and Samuel Nkumbaan of the University of Ghana in Legon, Accra, put it this way: “As the discourse on restitution continues, Ghana—and to a large extent [all] African countries—need to do their homework and take nothing for granted.” 37 They urged that the repatriation of Ghanaian cultural objects must spark a national debate involving educational institutions at all levels. In any case, the African continent is seeing more and more museums built. In Dakar in December 2018, for example, Senegalese President Macky Sall opened the Museum of Black Civilizations built with Chinese funds, a project launched back in the mid-1960s by the country’s first president, Léopold Sédar Senghor. 38 The extent to which museums in Africa can find new and appropriate forms for their tasks is one of the central questions of future commemorative and cultural policy. 39

36 Flower Manase, quoted in Holfelder (note 5), p. 135. See also Manase’s contribution to this volume. 37 Aba Eyifa-Dzidzieno, Samuel Nkumbaan: Looted and Illegally Acquired African Objects in European Museums. Issues of Restitution and Repatriation in Ghana. In: Contemporary Journal of African Studies 7 (2020) No. 1, pp. 84–96, quote on p. 94. 38 See Hans Belting, Andrea Buddensieg: Ein Afrikaner in Paris. Léopold Sédar Senghor und die Zukunft der Moderne. Munich 2018; Elizabeth Harney: In Senghor’s Shadow. Art, Politics, and the Avant-Garde in Senegal, 1960–1995. Durham 2004. 39 On the historical context, see Sarah Van Beurden: Culture, Artefacts, and Independent Africa. The Cultural Politics of Museums and Heritage. In: Martin Shanguhyia, Toyin Falola (Eds.): The Palgrave Handbook of African Colonial and Postcolonial History. New York 2018, pp. 1193–1212.

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4 Conclusion: How do we figure out what colonialism is? Historian Jürgen Osterhammel has aptly described colonialism as a “phenomenon of colossal ambiguity.” 40 Especially in the context of debates about colonial objects, the violent character of colonial rule has been particularly emphasized. And quite rightly so. The famous Benin bronzes were looted in the context of a British act of violence. Then they found their way into various European and North American museums and collections via convoluted routes. 41 At the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century, two of the most central figures in the German museum scene and academia were Adolf Bastian and Bastian’s probably most prominent younger ally, the archaeologist and physical anthropologist Felix von Luschan. They rejected the widespread racism of their time; nonetheless, there is no doubt they knew how to take advantage of colonial infrastructures. Bastian benefited from the political decision that all ethnological objects “acquired” by travelers and researchers in the colonies with the help of the German government were to be sent to the Berlin Museum. And Luschan, while speaking out decidedly against atrocities in the colonies, at the same time profited considerably from colonial violence. Thus, he requested that German troops collect the skulls of the defeated after each battle in the colony of German South West Africa. In the Herero prison camps, interned women had to scrape the flesh from the skulls before the bones got shipped to Berlin as research material. 42 For quite a while, and for good reasons, multiple voices have addressed criticisms that the globalization paradigm frequently conceals behind buzzwords like “interdependence” and “interaction” tangible hierarchical relationships based on violence. At the same time, recent research in the field has emphasized that colonialism was also a history of multifaceted cooperation, contradictory alliances, and conflicts—without denying the violent character of colonialism or trying to offset violence and racism

40 Jürgen Osterhammel: Kolonialismus. Geschichte – Formen – Folgen. Munich 5th ed. 2006, p. 8. 41 On the historical and local significance of these objects, see Paula Ben-Amos Girschick: Omada Arts at the Crossroads of Colonialism. In: Paul S. Landau, Deborah D. Kaspin (Eds.): Images and Empires. Visuality in Colonial and Postcolonial Africa. Berkeley 2002, pp. 275–293. Dan Hicks, The Brutish Museums: The Benin Bronzes, Colonial Violence and Cultural Restitution. London 2020, offers a powerful, sharptongued, and critical account of the Benin Punitive Expedition and the supposed official nature of the looting and the sale of the Benin Bronzes. See also Osarhieme Osadolor’s contribution to this volume. 42 See H. Glenn Penny: In Humboldt’s Shadow: A Tragic History of German Ethnology. Princeton, Oxford 2021.

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against the supposed “civilizing” achievements of Europeans. 43 However, it seems to strike a false note that when it comes to accounts of colonial looted goods, Africans are usually portrayed either as victims of overwhelming European violence or as people taken for a ride by nasty tricks. Neither local notions of property and ownership nor the African peoples’ scope, interests, and opportunities—whatever limited these may often have been—have played a substantial role in the debates so far. 44 Suppose we ignore this blind spot and continue to restrict the “rediscovery” of colonialism primarily to the metropolitan areas. In that case, I am afraid writing the currently much-invoked “common history” of Europe and Africa will hardly be a simple task.

43 See Frederick Cooper: Conflict and Connection. Rethinking African Colonial History. In: American Historical Review 99 (1994), pp. 1516–1545. 44 Larissa Förster also points to this void. See Larissa Förster: Wer fühlte sich beraubt? In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Nov. 25, 2018, https://www.faz.net/aktuell/feuil leton/debatten/koloniale-raubkunst-wer-fuehlte-sich-beraubt-15906194.html (retrieved Nov. 21, 2020).

Thomas Thiemeyer

Postcolonial Germany? Genealogical and Cosmopolitan Memory Culture

1 Introduction 1 In March 2013, young historians commented on the German Historical Museum (DHM) exhibition in Berlin via subversive actions. The group “Kolonialismus im Kasten?” (i.e., Colonialism in the Showcase?) had revisited those parts of the permanent exhibition showcasing the German colonial past and had identified, in their opinion, misrepresentations and apparent voids in the presentation. At first, they came back in person and ran alternative museum tours. Then they programmed an app to give visitors access to their alternative texts on the DHM’s showpieces. For example, one of the alternative segments informs about the medical test series that Robert Koch performed on Africans; another admonishes listeners of the sensationalist “Human Zoos” typical of the 19th-century World’s Fairs. 2 The guerrilla education initiative at the DHM exemplifies the latest turn in German memory culture—on an exemplary site, favorite topic, and battlefield of choice: Berlin, (post)colonialism, and the museum. In post-millennium times, a postcolonial dynamic developed in Germany, slowly at first; however, meanwhile, impossible to ignore. The key topics of attention handling were Germany’s colonial past and the German (ethnological) museums. However, with the opening of the Humboldt Forum in advance, the debate has generated even more substantial repercussions, 1 My contribution represents the debate until 2019. It is a slightly revised and updated version of two previous papers. See Thomas Thiemeyer: Deutschland postkolonial. Ethnologische und genealogische Erinnerungskultur. In: Merkur 70 (2016), pp. 33–45; Thomas Thiemeyer: Cosmopolitanizing Colonial Memories in Germany. In: Critical Inquiry 45 (2019), pp. 967–990. 2 See (respectively listen to the segments available to download) https://www.kolonialis musimkasten.de/der-guide/.

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and a topic that, for a long time, attracted more or less merely academic interest becomes—at least temporarily—a public concern. In my view, the new trend of turning attention to colonialism is a symptom of notable changes in the culture of remembrance. The transformation proceeds along the same lines the Israeli sociologists Daniel Levy and Nathan Sznaider outlined for Holocaust memory in 2006: from a kind of collective memory resting upon national and genealogical notions to a cosmopolitan memory. 3 Indeed, the days are long gone when “daring merchants” (so Helmut M. Müller’s somewhat daring formulation in Highlights of German History) 4 invaded the Southwest of Africa and attached the prefix “German” to the land. Advocating the benefits of colonial rule, German politicians had demanded that Imperial Germany was entitled to owning a “place in the sun.” However, the German accomplishments regarding sunny places comprised comparatively few regions and did not last very long. Considering the founding of German colonies in 1884 as the starting point and the Versailles Treaty of 1919 as the endpoint, German colonial rule lasted merely 35 years. 5 Besides, Germans trusted one statesman far more when it came to political judgment than their notoriously weak emperor. They occasionally nicknamed the latter “Willi Zwo” (i.e., “Willie Two” as in the marching cadence “Hup, two, three, four”), and they were well aware that Bismarck had no use for the emperor’s fantasies of colonial properties. So why do Germans today, of all moments, care about Germany’s imperial actions of the day before yesterday? I deem four reasons crucial: Germany’s transformation into a country of immigration; the high-profile debates about the Berlin Humboldt Forum; substantial changes in the German culture of remembrance; the discussions about ownership rights to the cultural property from contexts of injustice, namely Nazi plunder and colonial-era collections.

2 Postcolonial Theory and Immigrant Society No matter what, colonial history is a history of unequal power and repression. Maybe this is why colonial history draws growing interest in contemporary societies. Violence is high on the public’s list of major topics—especially when genocides are involved. 3 See Daniel Levy, Natan Sznaider: The Holocaust and Memory in the Global Age. Philadelphia 2006. 4 Helmut M. Müller: Schlaglichter der deutschen Geschichte, Bonn 1996. 5 Yet, the precise dates are still controversial.

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“Since the founding of the [German] colonies in 1884/1885,” notes historian Jürgen Zimmerer, “colonial wars raged again and again. Most protectorates had to be laboriously conquered by military means, and local resistance to foreign rule had to be broken with military force from the very beginning. Anti-colonial resistance peaked after the turn of the century when the two most protracted and costly conflicts occurred: the war against the Herero and Nama in German South West Africa (1904– 1908) and the Maji Maji War in German East Africa (1905–1907). With up to 300,000 casualties in German East Africa and up to 100,000 dead in South West Africa, these wars testify to the brutality and ruthlessness of German warfare that one can only term inhuman (admittedly, probably still an inadequate description). The conflict in South West Africa also went down in history as the first genocide of the 20th century.” 6 Zimmerer considers the “first genocide of the 20th century” not a suppressed uprising but a prototype of state-organized killing and precursor of the Holocaust—an interpretation that met with opposition. 7 One hundred years after the mass murder of Herero and Nama and after descendants of the Herero had unsuccessfully sued the Federal Republic for compensation in the United States in 2001, Heidemarie WieczorekZeul (Minister for Economic Cooperation and Development in 2004) apologized in Namibia for the crimes of the German colonizers. At the time, the Bundestag also joined in this gesture of repentance with a non-binding resolution. 8 At the same time, politicians of all persuasions discovered a promising subject in commemorating German injustices from the colonial era. And kindled by various anniversaries, the German academia called for conferences and produced publications galore. It did not take long, and groups formed that wanted to make Germans aware of their part in colonialism: the activists of “Kolonialismus im Kasten?” and the campaign group “Berlin postkolonial,” for example. Others set up internet portals like freiburg-, hamburg-, dresden- or . . . -postkolonial.de or decolonize-mitte.de. Moreover, numerous associations and initiatives united under the umbrella of the pressure group NoHumboldt21 aimed against the concept of the Humboldt Forum.

6 Jürgen Zimmerer: Widerstand und Genozid. Der Krieg des Deutschen Reiches gegen die Herero (1904–1908). In: Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte (2014) No. 27, pp. 31–38. 7 See Jürgen Zimmerer: Nationalsozialismus postkolonial. Plädoyer zur Globalisierung der deutschen Gewaltgeschichte. In: Zeitschrift für Geschichtswissenschaft 62 (2009) No. 6, pp. 529–548. In the 2009 article, Zimmerer responds to criticism of his theses in, among others, the journal Geschichte und Gesellschaft 33 (2007) No. 3, pp. 439– 466. 8 The government is currently negotiating the case once again.

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Since the 1960s, such groups have met in several cities of the Federal Republic. Occasionally, they have been able to win public attention for their concerns, as in Hamburg in 1967/68 or Bremen in 1979. However, it is only these days that the topic has skipped over regional boundaries and become nationally relevant. These groups share the view that the colonial period is a symbol of the Western world’s ignorance regarding fundamental questions of self-perception and the perception of others. They ascribe to the colonial period the structural racism they believe still shapes our societies without getting addressed adequately. In essence, it is all about the relationship of the majority society to its minorities and the categories the majority society uses to exclude marginalized groups openly or subtly. Currently, we witness repercussions in the public sphere of the postcolonial discussions that were at the center of vigorous debates in the humanities and social sciences (above all, literary studies, cultural studies, and ethnology) for half a century. When more and more European states lost their colonies during the 20th century, the formerly occupied countries cast off Western hegemony in political and intellectual terms. Since the 1960s, postcolonial studies have attempted to overcome the entrenched antagonisms from the colonial era that blocked thinking and perpetuated the old power imbalance. Advocates of postcolonial approaches made people aware of the stigmatizing effect of certain terms that had taken root in everyday speech. Partially under the heading of political correctness, they set out to break the power of language and, thus, the interpretive sovereignty of Western elites. Indeed, these elites had drawn out their attitude to describe “foreign cultures” in their words and presented them from their perspective for far too long. In contrast, the positions and views of those on whom Western accounts reported had fallen by the wayside. At some point, the linguistic purgatory of political correctness called the entire concept of culture into question. In the second half of the 20th century, more and more ethnologists said goodbye to the claim that they could extrapolate the findings from their empirical case studies as representative of a supposed culture. The criticism of the underlying research approach led to a debate about whether it was impossible to describe cultures—“foreign cultures” in particular. Wasn’t every kind of description, no matter how exact it claimed to be, always dependent on the writer’s perspective, expectations, and (pre)judgments? Wasn’t culture inevitably transient and permanently in a state of flux by way of contingency and the way people lived and behaved with each other? Was culture, then, anything but a fixed body of describable and observable facts, but rather, as Clifford Geertz has named it, a “fabric of meaning?” Suppose culture reflected the meanings people chose to endow their things and behaviors in

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an attempt to understand the world and make sense of their existence. How could scientists disregard their role in producing what they called culture? How could they even assume that their texts accurately represented human relationships, social rules, and orders? In the 1980s and 1990s, these questions led to the “crisis of representation” and general uncertainty as to whether any account could put forth a representation that adequately depicts social reality and the differences between people. 9 First and foremost, scrutinizing the methods by which science generated its truths about the categorical other, critics targeted the basic categories by which Western societies establish national identity and loyalty. They problematized culture as a category that classifies people by origin. Such a concept of culture that sorts people according to nation, ethnicity, or religion became established in the then newly formed nation-states in the 19th century, accompanying the rise of capitalism. Ethno-nationalism prescribes differences between groups and assumes that people of “one culture” are the same. Another assumption of the ethnic-nationalistic outlook is that people are primarily what “their culture” allows them to be. People can’t help but follow the preexisting cultural rules. Eventually, this thinking boils down to the notion that people of different cultures can only understand each other to a limited extent because they are different “by nature.” The Muslim is fundamentally different from the Christian; the Turk is not a German. In this form, culturalism seems to be a contemporary recurrence of racism: It fixes people to categories they cannot escape. Just as the color of one’s skin used to separate people, nowadays, religion and origin separate one “culture” from another. 10 In the logic of this distinct concept of culture, one culture must adapt (in other words: subordinate) to another; hence, harmonious coexistence does not seem possible in any other way. 11 Indeed, advocates of this limiting concept of culture have these notions in mind when talking about “German Leitkultur” (i.e., leading culture) and “integration.” In Germany, integration implies that the significant others must adapt, while there is no need to change for most of the society. Moreover, the “oth-

9 See Clifford Geertz: Thick Description: Toward an Interpretive Theory of Culture. In: Idem: The Interpretation of Cultures: Selected Essays. New York 1973, pp. 3–30; James Clifford, George E. Marcus (Eds.): Writing Culture. The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography. Berkeley 1986; Lila Abu-Lughod: Gegen Kultur schreiben. In: Ilse Lenz et al. (Eds.): Wechselnde Blicke. Frauenforschung in internationaler Perspektive. Opladen 1996, pp. 14–46. 10 See Wolfgang Kaschuba: Kulturalismus. Vom Verschwinden des Sozialen im gesellschaftlichen Diskurs. In: Berliner Journal für Soziologie (1994) No. 2, pp. 80–95. 11 Samuel Huntington’s influential idea of a “clash of civilizations” springs from such a perspective.

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ers” are still marked nationally, ethnically, or religiously in Germany. They are, for example, Muslims or “Germans featuring a migration background,” even if they were born in Germany and have never lived elsewhere. As it happens, Germany must adjust to the finding that it is an immigration country; consequently, some see the concept threatened that gives them security: their identity—in their perception deeply rooted in the nationstate and genealogy. (And, therefore, they defend the idea all the more vigorously while relying on bold populist rhetoric.) Demographically, the case has long been clear: A quarter of the German population has immigrated during the last three generations. On the other hand, the respective process of reorientation—whether in the public’s mind or the political sphere—has not been completed. Nonetheless, the amendment to immigration law, which came into force in 2000, marks a turning point. It softened the principle of ius sanguinis, which had set the affiliation to the German nation vouched for over generations as a prerequisite for legitimate German citizenship. Further steps in this direction have followed since then. We can detect the new self-image of Germany as a country of immigration in the current trends in pedagogy, the science that teaches the next generations how to see the world. In their most advanced theories, pedagogues say goodbye to the integration model and instead think about categories of discrimination. “Suppose we speak of discrimination and no longer examine integration deficits of minorities but confront their experiences of being discriminated against. Then other stories come into focus, stories from an immigrant society that persistently refuses to be one, and in which immigrants are perceived predominantly as needing help, being a threat, or being seen as an asset.” 12

Educationalist Astrid Messerschmidt outlines “migration pedagogy” in terms of postcolonial and critical theory. In her view, the approach accomplishes presenting the subtle mechanisms of the microphysics of power. Sensitive to the inconspicuous demarcations in everyday language and action, this pedagogy is wary of public symbols that reproduce old patterns of perception—which brings us to the Humboldt Forum.

12 Astrid Messerschmidt: Weltbilder und Selbstbilder. Bildungsprozesse im Umgang mit Globalisierung, Migration und Zeitgeschichte. Frankfurt on the Main 2009, p. 91.

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3 Humboldt Forum The Berlin Humboldt Forum is a national political project intended to showcase Germany’s openness to the world. The forum understands itself as a cosmopolitan cultural center. 13 It can count on the greatest possible public resonance in a prime location like Unter den Linden. Exposed in this way, the project invites criticism, which regularly descends upon it. Primarily, one move has ignited the criticism: the handling of the holdings of the Berlin Ethnological Museum, which until recently has been housed with the Museum of Asian Art and the Museum of European Cultures in Dahlem, an outlying district of Berlin, far from the tourist attractions. The Ethnological Museum and the Museum of Asian Art—but, significantly, not the Museum of European Cultures—are now en route to Berlin’s city center, to one of the most visited places in the German capital. Both will find a haven in a new building whose façade copies the former Hohenzollern Palace. (The GDR had blown up the original palace.) 14 Currently, criticism focuses on the concept of the Humboldt Forum and, in particular, the question of how to exhibit the holdings of the Berlin Ethnological Museum, which current scenarios envision showcased in parts of the Forum. 15 The initiative NoHumboldt21 has raised strong objections against the project calling for a halt to the plans since 2013: “We demand the suspension of work on the Humboldt Forum in the Berlin Palace and a broad public debate: The present concept violates the dignity and property rights of people in all parts of the world, is Eurocentric and restorative. The Humboldt Forum contradicts the claim of equal coexistence in the migration society.” 16

Critics consider it even an imposition that Alexander von Humboldt was the first choice for the forum’s eponym because he was part of the colonial rule. While some deem Humboldt “Prussia’s true discoverer of the Americas,” NoHumboldt21 emphasizes that Humboldt “stole buried corpses and shipped them to Europe.” Therefore, he embodies “colonial dominance.” According to the activists, the same applies to the Hohen-

13 See https://www.humboldtforum.org/de/ (retrieved Nov. 07, 2022). 14 See Peter-Klaus Schuster: Zur Entstehung des “Humboldt Forums” aus dem Geist der Berliner Museen. Eine Vorgeschichte. In: Horst Bredekamp, Peter-Klaus Schuster (Eds.): Das Humboldt Forum. Die Wiedergewinnung der Idee. Berlin 2016, pp. 37–92. 15 See Friedrich von Bose: Das Humboldt-Forum. Eine Ethnographie seiner Planung. Berlin 2016. 16 https://www.no-humboldt21.de/resolution/, retrieved Nov. 24, 2020, also all following quotations.

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zollerns and their representational buildings, incessantly displaying longestablished power. “For the descendants of the colonized in the country and abroad, it is a particular imposition that this should happen in the rebuilt residence of the Brandenburg-Prussian rulers. After all, the Hohenzollerns were mainly responsible for enslaving thousands of people from Africa and for genocides and concentration camps in Germany’s former colonies.”

Yet, in the eyes of NoHumboldt21, the collections from the colonial period pose the most severe problem. In this context, the activists make two accusations that go beyond the specific Berlin case: First, they claim that exhibitions of such holdings reproduce colonial patterns of presentation and perpetuate the Western view of the Other. “Alike the display of ‘exotic curiosities’ in the ‘cabinets of wonders’ of the Brandenburg electors and Prussian kings, the Berlin Palace (Humboldt Forum) is intended to serve the formation of a Prussian-German-European identity. This intention thwarts the goal of equal coexistence in the migration society, and the implementation will happen at the expense of others. Via objects originating from all over the world and, for the most part, centuries old, the showcasing of the supposedly ‘foreign’ and ‘other’ proceeds alongside the extensive collections of European art on Berlin’s Museum Island, resulting in the construction of Europe as a superior norm.”

Second, they raise the question of ownership rights to the ethnological holdings: Who may legitimately (and mind you, the term legitimately has another meaning than legally) claim these objects as their possession and decide what to do with them? And for what purpose may they do so? “Using ‘other people’s plumes’ for adornment has to this day brought material profits for Berlin as a location, in addition to non-material advantages. We demand disclosure of the acquisition history of all exhibits and unequivocal compliance with the UN resolutions on the ‘repatriation of works of art to countries that were victims of expropriation.’ It is mandatory to begin a dialogue with the descendants of the creators or rightful owners of the exhibits about the future whereabouts of artworks and property looted in colonial times. This requirement is especially true for the abducted human remains that the Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz [i.e., Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation] has in possession.”

Interestingly, NoHumboldt21 is not a German-only initiative. International interest groups have come together and signed a joint letter of protest, among them Afrosvenskarnas riksförbund (the National Association of Afro-Swedes), ArtAfrica from Portugal, Asamblea Popular del Pueblo Juchiteco from Oaxaca in Mexico and AfricAvenir. Here, an internationally networked and globally active community is expressing its wants

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to influence national cultural policy. The debates around the Humboldt Forum follow a global logic of minority recognition. Thanks to social media, minorities can place their concerns across borders and become influential players in what were once purely national affairs. For Germany, this means that suddenly issues appear on the national agenda that one could conveniently ignore previously. For a long time, these arguments bounced off those responsible for the Humboldt Forum. The objections found little public resonance until July 2017, when the Berlin art historian Bénédicte Savoy withdrew from the Humboldt Forum’s Scientific Advisory Board. In her opinion, the project plans did not sufficiently address the colonial origins of the envisaged collections. In addition to this gesture of protest, Savoy compared the Humboldt Forum to the Chornobyl nuclear disaster in an interview in the Süddeutsche Zeitung: “300 years of collection activity, with all the mess and hopes associated with it. That is us; that is Europe. One could imagine an infinite number of things if the whole thing were not buried under a lead blanket like nuclear waste so that no radiation would leak out. The Humboldt Forum is like Chornobyl.” 17

The controversy reached its temporary climax in November 2018, when Savoy and the Senegal publicist Felwine Sarr—on behalf of the French president—proposed new rules for dealing with colonial-era collections in French museums and called for comprehensive restitution. 18 Meanwhile, the entire Humboldt Forum project is suspected of colonialism, although the ethnological collections occupy only part of the building. The art historian Horst Bredekamp was, along with Neil MacGregor (former director of the British Museum) and Hermann Parzinger (director of the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation), one of the three founding directors of the Humboldt Forum. Bredekamp complained in reaction to Savoy’s interview that the discussion was too one-sided: “Currently, the focus is not on the appreciation of the exhibits of foreign cultures, but on the hypostasized guilt of owning them.” Yet in Berlin, “for the first time [. . . ] non-European cultures would be elevated in the heart of a nation in a magnificent way that has not happened in any other place and probably will not happen again.” Bredekamp finds it alarming that, in his words, “pre-colonial collection history” is wholly disregarded. He emphasizes that, since the Renaissance

17 Bénédicte Savoy: “Ein unlösbarer Widerspruch.” Interview by Jörg Häntzschel. In: Süddeutsche Zeitung, July 21, 2017. 18 See Felwine Sarr, Bénédicte Savoy: The Restitution of African Cultural Heritage. Towards a New Relational Ethics. Paris 2018.

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and the Enlightenment, scholars have been interested in foreign parts of the world—and the interest was not motivated by power politics. “The crippling omission of the precious category of curiosity, curiositas, as a basic condition of any empathy toward the foreign, assumes, pointedly, that anyone who learns a foreign language is on the verge of occupying the capital of the country in question.” 19

In this context, Bredekamp recalls the “universalist ethnology” as exemplified by Han Vermeulen. And he mentions the 18th-century trend of Chinoiserie, claiming the corresponding Berlin collections were assembled out of appreciation for Chinese art. This reading corresponds to the findings by historian Glenn Penny. He researched the collecting practices of Berlin ethnologists in the 19th century. In the case of Adolf Bastian, spiritus rector of the Berlin Museum of Ethnology, and his network of Germans living abroad who collected for him, Penny attests that “neither colonialism nor empire had driven the collecting. Rather, it was the appeal of Bastian’s vision, the allure of his Humboldtian desire to know the world, to pursue a total history of humanity, which was shared by many Germans abroad.” 20 Penny considers German anthropology to be particularly liberal and cosmopolitan by international standards of the time. “Unlike their counterparts in most of Europe and the United States, German ethnologists did not use objects simply to confirm or illustrate theories of human development; nor did they seek to use them to legitimate cultural or racial hierarchies. Rather, they began with a rejection of race science and an assumption that there were no inherent mental differences among people. Bastian, Virchow, and their colleagues believed that nature had endowed all humans equally; no group had inherent genetic advantages or disadvantages. Thus, they created their museums as spaces for the study of human cultures and histories in all their variations, not to support or illustrate politically useful theories of human difference.” 21

19 Horst Bredekamp: “Ein Ort radikal verstandener Toleranz.” In: Zeit, July 31, 2017. 20 H. Glenn Penny: In Humboldt’s Shadow: A Tragic History of German Ethnology. Princeton and Oxford 2021, p. 110. 21 Ibid., p. 8. See additionally Glenn H. Penny: Objects of Culture. Ethnology and Ethnographic Museums in Imperial Germany. Chapel Hill 2002.

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4 A New Culture of Remembrance and Cultural Heritage Regarding why colonial history is catching up with us these days of all days, I deem three aspects of the activists’ contribution remarkable: First, their criticism wants to shift the priorities in memory culture. The German culture of remembrance had conceded imperialism to be, at best, a “footnote in history,” as Hans-Ulrich Wehler once beautifully put it concerning the GDR. At once, the striking symbol of the Humboldt Forum allows for placing the topic more prominently. It seems reasonable to assume that such a shift only became possible when the perspective on the Holocaust changed. At the same time that the postcolonial dynamic gained momentum in this country—namely after the turn of the millennium—the German culture of remembrance began to differentiate. At first, new topics closely linked to National Socialism and the extermination of the Jews came into view. After the reunification, Germany experienced a second wave of remembrance hype. And attempts were made to shape the collective memory by thematizing, aside from the perpetrator perspective with its ciphers Auschwitz and Hitler, more prominently the victim discourse on narratives of bombing raids, westbound flight, and expulsion. Meanwhile, historians work on histories of mentality and everyday life in the “Third Reich” period. And the research of historical mentalities does not limit its focus to the great catastrophe of the extermination of the Jews. Finally, it also analyzes the minor everyday events and favors that benefited the Aryans in the “feel-good dictatorship” (Götz Aly). Historiography increasingly turns towards comparative genocide research featuring a pronounced interdisciplinary and international approach and incident-overarching perspective. Indeed, comparative genocide research has classified the Holocaust as the most striking example in the history of state-organized mass violence rich in examples. Preceding instances are excesses of colonial violence. 22 Relevant for the memory culture in the making are all those powerful mechanisms and unequal relations, violent in character, which, although part of the past, are still not over. The new culture takes up the issue of looming structural phenomena such as anti-Semitism, opportunism, overpowering bureaucracy, racism, or other

22 See Götz Aly: Hitlers Volksstaat. Raub, Rassenkrieg und nationaler Sozialismus. Frankfurt on the Main 2005; Frank Bajohr, Andrea Löw (Eds.): Der Holocaust. Ergebnisse und neue Fragen der Forschung. Frankfurt on the Main 2015, esp. Sibylle Steinbacher: Sonderweg, Kolonialismus, Genozide, pp. 83–101.

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forms of discrimination that have been particularly violent in the past but pose a danger to people at any time. 23 Comparative genocide research no longer regards the Holocaust as incomparable. Nevertheless, the Shoah remains the benchmark for excessive violence in Germany. Intensive Holocaust research has “developed an arsenal of concepts and norms” which now help to interpret retroactively and classify morally other violent conflicts and build the basis for the rhetoric of remembrance politics that now takes hold in the case of Germany’s colonial legacy. 24 After all, in this case, the two grand “moral narratives” named by Charles Maier as lessons from the 20th century for the present interact: the Western narrative of the Holocaust and Gulag and the (post)colonial narrative of the “observers from outside the Atlantic world.” 25 The questions that arise from comparing these histories have provoked currently intense debates. 26 Secondly, drawing on the universalistic rhetoric of human dignity, the reasoning concerns the recognition of formerly oppressed groups—as prominently negotiated in today’s identity politics. 27 The resulting culture of remembrance is no longer solely nation-state oriented but follows international negotiating processes. The fact that national ties and traditions are weakening “does not in any way suggest that the era of the nation-state is over. Rather, it suggests that the nation-state’ hegemonic reign as the central producer of meaning has come to an end. National memories are now mixed with collective memories culled from other collective expressions of solidarity such as ethnicity, gender, and religion.” 28 These negotiation processes—thirdly—always follow economic and political interests. They aim at ownership and interpretive sovereignty. 23 See for a concise overview Sebastian Conrad, Shalini Randeria, Regina Römhild (Eds.): Jenseits des Eurozentrismus. Postkoloniale Perspektiven in den Geschichts- und Kulturwissenschaften. Frankfurt on the Main 2013. 24 Aleida Assmann: Der lange Schatten der Vergangenheit. Erinnerungskultur und Geschichtspolitik. Munich 2006, p. 15. 25 Charles Maier: Consigning the Twentieth Century to History. Alternative Narratives for the Modern Era. In: American Historical Review 105 (2000) No. 3, pp. 807–831, p. 826. 26 See the debates about the so called Historikerstreit 2.0 and the contribution by Dirk Moses: Der Katechismus der Deutschen. In: Geschichte der Gegenwart, May 23, 2021, https://geschichtedergegenwart.ch/der-katechismus-der-deutschen/ (retrieved Dec. 18, 2022). 27 See Charles Taylor: Multikulturalismus und die Politik der Anerkennung. Mit Kommentaren von Amy Gutmann, Steven Rockefeller, Michael Walzer, Susan Wolf und Jürgen Habermas. Frankfurt on the Main 2nd ed. 2012; Francis Fukuyama: Identität. Wie der Verlust der Würde unsere Demokratie gefährdet. Hamburg 2019. 28 Levy, Sznaider (note 3), p. 35.

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It is often impossible to say precisely at what point (or whether at all) moral concerns take a backseat, and self-interest begins to reign. However, struggles over (national) cultural heritage have certainly increased. And the conflicts are related to the fact that cultural heritage (augmented by property rights) makes regions attractive to tourists and provides states with prime material for processes of historical identity formation in times of increasing obsession with history. 29 Questions of ownership concerning assets considered cultural property are currently the hottest topics of cultural policy in Germany. The dispute over the Cultural Property Protection Act and the restitution of Nazi plunder, which overlap in the Gurlitt case, are apparent symptoms of this new search for justice against the backdrop of history. In connection with the debate about African cultural heritage in German and European museums, some call the entire system into question. What about the old European idea of ownership concerning cultural objects from all over the world? Is it likely to persist in the future? Or are we bound to enter a new phase that fundamentally reassesses ownership claims to things that came into museums under morally questionable circumstances? 30 In terms of international law, we would have to suspend the intertemporal principle stipulating that property claims are always judged based on those laws that applied at the time of acquisition. So far, this principle has only been suspended in exceptional cases, such as restitution claims relating to the Nazi era. Any extension of these exceptions would have severe consequences for the major museums; hence, they could no longer be positive that they could rely on their greatest attractions. Would the Neues Museum in Berlin have to bid farewell to the bust of Nefertiti then? Would the museums of the Global North have to hand over the Benin bronzes? This is what some of them are doing right now (Germany returned the first Bronzes in 2022). Such realignments would fundamentally change how museums see themselves and how they have traditionally handled cultural objects. Moira Simpson details the process concerning American museums and their negotiations with Native peoples:

29 See Thomas Thiemeyer: Kulturerbe als Shared Heritage? Kolonialzeitliche Sammlungen und die Zukunft einer europäischen Idee. In: Merkur 829 (2018), pp. 30–44 and 830 (2018), pp. 85–92. On the overall complex of cultural heritage, see the publications of the Goettingen DFG research group 772 Cultural Property http://cultural-property. uni-goettingen.de/publikationen/ (retrieved Nov. 24, 2020). 30 See Christina Kreps: Liberating Culture. Cross-Cultural Perspectives on Museums, Curation and Heritage Preservation. London 2003. Still, experts must verify the general suspicion against the collections on a case-by-case level. See Penny (note 20).

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“Curatorial staff are re-examining museological practices and the legitimacy of their possession of materials which previously were held and displayed without question of property rights, authority or wishes of those from whom they were taken. They have to address questions of ownership, care, display, and interpretation.” 31

In the meantime, the discussion about handling cultural objects originating from contexts of injustice has reached several European countries. Predominant triggers were the Humboldt Forum controversy and the Sarr-Savoy report on handling colonial-era objects in French museums presented to the French president in November 2018. In their memorandum, the authors call for the complete return of all collections from Mali, Cameroon, Senegal, and former Benin held in French public museums. (Examining archives, libraries, and private collections was not part of the mandate.) The Musée du Quai Branly is particularly affected. According to Sarr and Savoy, it hosts around 70,000 of the 90,000 objects under consideration. The report refers only to the regions that French troops formally colonized in the 19th century and in which they systematically looted art. Sarr and Savoy write that art theft was not a byproduct of military conquest but followed its own logic. Since they wanted to complete their collections, Museums commissioned militaries or sent art experts to bring certain things to Europe. Military conquest and cultural appropriation went hand in hand: “There are countless examples that prove the extent to which the active search for and transfer of cultural objects to European capitals was at the center—rather than on the margins—of colonial undertakings.” 32

Sarr and Savoy assume the colonial-era acquisitions in the four countries mentioned above were, in principle, imbued with violence, and that leads them to the demand that we have to evaluate such holdings categorically differently: “In this sense—as earlier debates suggest—the annexation of cultural property affects individuals and groups in the very basis of their humanity (spirituality, creativity, and bequeathing) and, therefore, belongs to a distinct category: the transgressive act—that could not be legitimized by any legal, administrative, cultural, or economic system.” 33

31 Moira Simpson: Making Representations. Museums in the Post-Colonial Era. London 1996, p. 171. 32 Felwine Sarr, Bénédicte Savoy: Zurückgeben. Über die Restitution afrikanischer Kulturgüter (abridged German version of the Sarr Savoy report). Berlin 2019, p. 32. 33 Ibid., p. 23.

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There is no moral justification for such acquisitions—neither in the 19th century nor today. Returning the objects immediately (i.e., even without further provenance research) when the societies of origin reclaim them, they remarked, is to do the right thing. By and large, Sarr and Savoy’s argument boils down to a new idea of cultural heritage. Their notion is not about sorting cultural heritage back into national slots (and thus turning back time) but about actually making things universally available and impactful—especially outside Europe: “Under the auspices of dialogue, multi-perspectivity, and exchange, restitution must by no means be understood as a sinister act of identity ascription or territorial fixation of cultural objects. On the contrary, the restitution project invites us to open up the object-based meaning-making process and to enable elsewhere experiencing the feature with which the objects are regularly associated in Europe: their ‘universal’ character.” 34

At its core, this is about two things: restitution and dialogue. Opting for restitution would signify that France is serious about coming to terms with colonial guilt and entanglement in imbalanced power relations. And serious dialogue could establish new, equal relationships sustainably. Restituting the collections would be only the first yet highly symbolic act of a “new relational ethic”: “In this case, compensation consists of a relational approach that aims to heal.” 35 The restituted objects are meant to create conditions for new cultural contacts and processes of understanding. They are to become touchstones of an interwoven, hybrid culture—and stimuli, bringing together French and African actors and merging narratives in an entirely new way. The authors understand culture, then, “in the dynamic sense of an elaboration and a construction, of cultural mixing and hybridizations.” 36 In the wake of their concept of culture, the objects may tell an interweaving story of mutual influence and shared past that could replace older forms of cultural exchange considered biased by their inherent tendency toward hierarchizations. What’s more, Sarr and Savoy see access to the relics of African culture as an essential prerequisite for the people of Africa to find a new, independent place in the world. Initially, the Sarr-Savoy report caused a great stir in France; then, it was a wake-up call for German cultural policy and the local (ethnological) museums. Both ministers of state for culture, Monika Grütters and Michelle Müntefering, formulated a new governmental position and asked shortly after its release: 34 Ibid., p. 16. 35 Ibid., p. 86. 36 Sarr, Savoy (note 19), p. 44.

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“How can museums and collections justify having objects from colonial contexts in their collections whose transfer to Germany contradicts our current value system?” 37

More importantly, for the first time, the Conference of Ministers of Culture of the German Federal States (Kultur-MK)—who are usually the owners of the museums and thus of the things at stake—adopted a key issues paper. In March 2019, the KMK formulated in the paper its goal to lay the foundations for creating “conditions for the repatriation of human remains [. . . ] and of cultural objects from colonial contexts whose appropriation took place in a manner that is no longer legally or ethically justifiable today.” 38 Germany is thus the first country in Europe to commit to returning colonial-era objects, and it is among the first countries that committed itself to return its Benin bronzes (in 2022). Moreover, the commitment was made at the political level, where concrete decisions may follow. However, the Federal Ministers reject in their cornerstone paper the idea of evaluating colonialism and the Nazi era as comparable regimes of injustice to which similar rules of restitution should apply: “The Holocaust is unprecedented and incomparable.” Shortly afterwards, the German Museums Association defined its stance in the second, revised version of its guidelines for dealing with collection items from colonial contexts. The revised guidelines recommend “that museums make it clear from the outset that they are prepared to talk about restitution but are equally prepared and open to discuss other solutions.” 39 The Museums Association reasons that the reversal of the burden of proof applies only to proven cases of wrongful acquisition—if the change of ownership occurred under circumstances that are now clearly considered wrongful and when it was already evident to contemporaries that they were acting unlawfully. 37 Monika Grütters, Michelle Müntefering: Eine Lücke in unserem Gedächtnis. In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Dec. 15, 2018. 38 Erste Eckpunkte zum Umgang mit Sammlungsgut aus kolonialen Kontexten der Staatsministerin des Bundes für Kultur und Medien, der Staatsministerin im Auswärtigen Amt für internationale Kulturpolitik, der Kulturministerinnen und Kulturminister der Länder und der kommunalen Spitzenverbände (i.e., First Key Points on Dealing with Collection Items from Colonial Contexts by the Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media, the Head of the Department of Cultural Affairs in the Federal Foreign Office, the Federal Ministers of Education and Cultural Affairs, and the leading municipal associations). https://www.kmk.org/fileadmin/Dateien/ pdf/PresseUndAktuelles/2019/Erste_Eckpunkte_final.pdf (retrieved Nov. 24, 2020). 39 Deutscher Museumsbund (Ed.): Leitfaden Umgang mit Sammlungsgut aus kolonialen Kontexten, 2nd version. Berlin 2019, p. 158.

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“To redress this injustice, the cultural property must be restituted. The nature and significance of the cultural property are irrelevant.” 40

In general, however, the museum curators found that the world’s appropriation by colonial powers (whether Germany or other European states) took such different courses that it was impossible to make unconditional recommendations. “In the authors’ opinion, it is not sensible at present to try for a conclusive determination or definition of acquisition circumstances that are to be regarded as unlawful and, thus, can lead to restitution—due to the large number of cases in which the circumstances differ and the largely differing perspectives of the states or societies of origin. From the fact that colonialism as a whole represents a system of massive structural violence, at times, parties involved have concluded that every acquisition made during the colonial period was wrongful. The majority of the panel cannot agree with this view. [. . . ] The authors consider it problematic to deny the societies of origin any agency of their own and to declare them victims sweepingly. [. . . ] Ultimately, each case must be considered particularly in its unique character.” 41

Compared to the Sarr-Savoy report on France, the Museums association’s guidelines put forward a different line of argumentation: The representatives of the German museums understand colonialism as a comprehensive system of thought that is neither limited to the 19th century nor to those comparatively straightforward cases of countries that were “officially” colonized. Consequently, the guide refers to “colonial contexts” in general phrases. As a result, when assessing the cases, one finds them rich in presuppositions and ambivalences. The assessments also bring into view the prehistory of 19th-century colonization and regions outside Africa that do not necessarily fit into an apparent perpetrator-victim dichotomy. Following this understanding, it is not a historically definable epoch with which one must come to terms but an epistemic structure that continues to have political, economic, and legal effects to this day. This structure developed long before the 19th century, and it did not dissolve with the end of the colonial empires but continues to shape our everyday life in many ways. It is evident in lines of thinking that sort people by skin color or “cultures,” as well as in European legal ideas or scientific disciplines that grew out of a colonial spirit and shaped our view of the world. 42

40 Ibid., p. 159. 41 Ibid., p. 161. 42 See Walter Mignolo: The Darker Side of Western Modernity. Global Futures, Decolonial Options. Durham 2011.

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Indeed, ethnological museums have been somewhat aware of these problems and do not start with a blank slate. 43 Away back, they began conducting provenance research to better understand and do justice to their collections. However, in the context of the controversy surrounding the Humboldt Forum and the art historical restitution discussions on the background of the Sarr-Savoy report, this topic is becoming politically explosive at once. Now that public pressure is growing in Berlin, Hamburg, and Stuttgart, and cultural policymakers require guidelines on how to deal with the disputed holdings, museums can no longer flatly refuse demands for restitution, as was the case in the 1970s. 44 Nowadays, selective provenance research is no longer enough; the necessity for systematic procedures to evaluate extensive holdings in toto is evident. The burden of proof is beginning to reverse (and one will have to wait and see if this is permanently the case). Whereas disputes previously got started exclusively on those pieces originating from a specific context of injustice or when specific restitution claims occurred, expectations have risen. Ethnological museums now have to provide evidence that their entire range of colonialtime collectibles is credible. Given the size of the holdings in the depots, however, exhaustive, detailed statements are not feasible because—unlike the art market’s practice concerning “masterpieces”—there are hardly any complete provenance records. Ethnological collections contain more than works of art and famous shrines: They host shoes, hats, traditional costumes, boats, or cult objects galore. These objects rarely have a market value; nevertheless, some might have high cultural value. Still, how can one trace back a fetish from the 19th century that came into an ethnological collection via donation by anonymous persons or by collector’s will? And is this fetish, in principle, an object one must assume was taken from indigenous people under duress?

43 See among other publications on the discussion about the German ethnological museums Iris Edenheiser, Larissa Förster (Eds.): Museumsethnologie. Eine Einführung. Theorien – Debatten – Praktiken. Berlin 2019; Friedrich von Bose, Larissa Förster: Jenseits der Institution. Für eine erweiterte Diskussion ethnologischer Museumspraxis. In: Zeitschrift für Kulturwissenschaften (2015) No. 1, pp. 91–93; Deutscher Museumsbund (Ed.): Positioning Ethnological Museums in the 21st Century. Special issue Museumskunde (2016) No. 1; Hans Peter Hahn (Ed.): Ethnologie und Weltkulturmuseum. Positionen für eine offene Weltsicht. Berlin 2017; Karl-Heinz Kohl et al (Eds.): Das Humboldt Forum und die Ethnologie. Ein Gespräch zwischen Karl-Heinz Kohl, Fritz Kramer, Johann Michael Möller, Gereon Sievernich, Gisela Völger. Frankfurt on the Main 2019; Penny (note 20). 44 See Anna Strugalla: “Ein Ding der Unmöglichkeit.” In: taz, weekend supplement, May 11 and 12, 2019.

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5 Genealogical and Cosmopolitan Culture of Memory One senses the fundamental nature of the current debates. As yet, museums rank first in the pick of battlefields. The self-image and worldview of German society are up for discussion, and to a rather large extent, these notions are historically based. However, the historical narratives no longer meet with a supposedly uniform audience; they have to reach people with and without an immigration history, who interpret and understand German history in very different ways. It is possible, therefore, that a cosmopolitan culture of remembrance will take the place of a genealogical one. No longer based on the fundamental ideas of a blood relationship of all Germans, vouched for over generations, who were socialized similarly in national educational institutions, the cosmopolitan memory culture grounds on postcolonial notions. It formulates its claims on national historical narratives with a view to contemporary society’s ethnic and religious diversity. “Thus, cosmopolitan memory also means recognizing the history (and the memories) of the ‘other’ and integrating them into one’s own history.” 45 This form of remembrance aims not to replace the Holocaust as the critical memory benchmark but to place the German culture of remembrance that developed after Auschwitz on other pillars and to put the Nazi period in a different perspective. The cosmopolitan culture of remembrance no longer draws its lessons from German history solely from the extermination of the Jews. Additional questions play a part, for example, how discrimination could become the norm in National Socialist society without the majority revolting or how imperialism created hierarchies between ethnic groups and worked with exclusions that continue to impact today. Dana Giesecke and Harald Welzer see two advantages in the transformation. Such a memory culture would provide “a more viable and realistic perspective” on history. What’s more, addressing the “everyday experience of exclusion” would offer “students from other cultures [a narrative] they might relate to on the backdrop of their lifeworld experiences and perceptions.” 46 Such a memory culture tends to be inclusive rather than exclusive. It also includes those who join in later. It allows for new narratives that, until recently, were unspeakable. In the 1980s, two major national historical museums, the Haus der Geschichte in Bonn (i.e., House of the History of the Federal Republic of Germany) and the German Historical Museum in Berlin, prominently 45 Levy, Sznaider (note 3), p. 242. 46 Dana Giesecke, Harald Welzer: Das Menschenmögliche. Zur Renovierung der deutschen Erinnerungskultur. Hamburg 2012.

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shaped the Federal Republic’s genealogical culture of memory. Thirty years later, the ethnological holdings at the Humboldt Forum point the German culture of remembrance in a new direction and put topics on the public agenda that fit well with the self-discovering phase of an immigrant country. The exhibitions and collections’ contents trigger far-reaching negotiating processes relevant to the migration society and its culture of remembrance.

David Simo

Forms and Functions of the Memory of Colonization The Humboldt Forum and Postcolonial Germany

1 Introduction The debate about African artifacts brought to Europe before, during, and after colonization, about their historical relocation, their legal, epistemological, relational, and emotional status as commemorative objects, their management, and their fate has created a discursive maelstrom in which epistemes and topoi collide and paradigms transform. However, this maelstrom does not emerge by chance. Suppose the visibility of this discursive turmoil—and thus its intensity—is based in any form on a political and historical conjuncture. In that case, it is, strictly speaking, the result of many years of intellectual and scholarly work. This discursive momentum is also the result of the consistent activism of specific social forces. Three events mark the political and historical situation in Germany concerning this problem: (1) the recurring memory of the years from 1884 to 1904, i.e., the period between the Berlin Conference, which initiated or accelerated the partition of Africa among the colonizing European powers, and a central event in German colonial history, namely the war that ended the resistance of the population in what was then German South West Africa, and which resulted in what many historians consider genocide (2) the decision to rebuild the Berlin City Palace in the historic center of Berlin, to call it the Humboldt Forum, and to dedicate it, among other things, to the dialogue of cultures (3) the wish expressed by the French President during a speech at the University of Ouagadougou in Burkina Faso on November 28, 2017, namely that, within five years, the conditions should be set for temporarily or permanently returning the African cultural heritage

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housed in France to Africa. Therefore, he commissioned two scholars (Felwine Sarr of the University of Saint Louis in Senegal and Bénédicte Savoy of the Collège de France) to produce a report on this issue in March 2018. They presented a thorough 78-page report to President Macron on November 23, 2018, outlining the arguments and modalities for the return of African cultural heritage currently on display or stored in French museums. 1

2 The Debate’s Heuristic Significance These events have been instrumental in allowing discourses previously confined to specific intellectual, scientific, and political circles to gain a substantial presence in the media and, by now, reach a wider audience. Moreover, the media resonance has strengthened specific research and significant knowledge production in diverse fields and disciplines. Thinking about the set of colonial problems has thus been inspired by—and, in turn, inspired—various heuristic approaches. These are perspectives on the subject from such disparate angles as globalization, the politics of memory, the constitution of national and transnational imaginaries, the problem of cross-cultural understanding, the migration problem, literary and artistic creativity, the body and functioning of modern societies, the analysis and moderation of conflict, and many more. New programs of study got institutionalized, and disciplines have reassessed their foundations to open up, structure, and explore new areas of knowledge, as is the case with cultural studies, postcolonial studies, gender studies, global studies, etc. The different research approaches or disciplines are far from based on the same paradigms. Still, they share a particular awareness of the current world’s functioning and a concern for its future. To begin with, they legitimize themselves through a nominalist and pragmatic epistemology. They subscribe to the principle of producing knowledge from historically identifiable perspectives and want to respond as transparently as possible to the questions and concerns of individuals and groups. We can identify at least three goals operating as underlying guidelines for these different approaches:

1 See Felwine Sarr, Bénédicte Savoy: Rapport sur la restitution du patrimoine culturel africain. Vers une nouvelle éthique relationnelle. Paris 2018, https://bj.ambafrance. org/ (retrieved Febr. 6, 2020).

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(1) deconstructing the traditional national narrative in Europe and criticizing previously standard memory practices (2) checking the “colonial library” for questionable content (3) reassessing the conditions for social coexistence in the postcolonial globalized world. In the following, I would like to explain and discuss these approaches in more detail.

3 The Deconstruction of the Traditional National Narrative In 2013, a group of five young women, German historians, decided to create an alternative audio guide for the permanent exhibition “German History from the Middle Ages to the Fall of the [Berlin] Wall” on display at the German Historical Museum in Berlin. 2 In the segments of their audio guide, the historians draw visitors’ attention to distortions in the exhibition set-up. Whether deliberate or not, these distortions attest to the original exhibition makers’ desire to construct a particular trajectory in German history that, despite some fractures, has an internal logic and coherence. Precisely, such an endeavor, which consists of showing, if not a national teleology, at least an overarching destiny, a unified aspiration, or a consistent development, is what is called a “national narrative.” Although the five historians were interested in the distortions of historical facts that are inevitable in this kind of narrative, their primary interest was in the relative importance the exhibition ascribed to colonialism. They noted that the display was spatially marginalizing colonial aspects of history and relegating them to an area under a staircase, and they found the narrative presentation marginalizing. The exhibition’s narrative turned colonial events into episodes located outside of Germany. The events that once happened had nothing to do with German space, whether that space was defined from a cultural, social, or political perspective. In the exhibition, colonization appeared as a reality that existed exclusively beyond Germany and therefore had no real impact on Germany’s social coexistence and future. In response to this analysis and following other

2 See https://www.kolonialismusimkasten.de/; Manuela Bauche: Postkolonialer Aktivismus und die Erinnerung an den deutschen Kolonialismus. Die Forderungen nach Repräsentation und sozialer Gleichstellung als zwei Pole einer neuen postkolonialen Bewegung, https://phase-zwei.org/hefte/artikel/postkolonialer-aktivismusund-dieerinnerung-an-den-deutschen-kolonialismus-134/ (both retrieved Dec. 10, 2019).

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critical voices, the exhibition organizers made some changes. However, they did not change much and presented colonial events unmodified as extraterritorial. Among the many examples of how official Germany dealt with the colonial problem, this is just one that provoked mixed reactions. In response to such marginalization, more than a few researchers and intellectuals decided to focus on these complex issues, resulting in a plethora of research projects, publications, and civil society initiatives. The various forays assume that the mental and discursive dissociation of metropolis and colonies is not just an oversight but rather an indicator of colonial thinking—resulting in the world’s division into two distinct spheres: the West and the Rest, as coined by Stuart Hall. 3 The postcolonial project deconstructs this mental construction and analyzes the metropolis and colony as dialectical parts of the same sphere. The idea of a “shared history” implies that national history is necessarily the history of historical interactions that were formative and game-changing for the various parties involved in the colonial events. The metropolis is the product of colonial action and relations, just as the colony is the product of colonial interaction. 4 In a speech on June 30, 2014, at the opening of the symposium “Towards the Humboldt Forum,” former German President Horst Köhler commented on the Humboldt Forum’s imperative necessity and soughtafter role, which he described as part of a paradigm shift in international politics. One should recall that before becoming President of the Federal Republic of Germany, Köhler was departmental head of the German Ministry of Finance, President of the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development, and Managing Director of the International Monetary Fund. He is, therefore, a financial economist who has worked at the national, European, and global levels. Consequently, Köhler could draw on his many years of experience when remarking on the topic. He made the case that the overriding orientation of international relations to financial considerations was doomed to fail and that a global dialogue of cultures was a prerequisite and the best means of shaping relations, whether between peoples or states. The Humboldt Forum, located in Germany, should serve as the central hub for establishing connections and implementing such a dialogue. The overarching aim would be to address different ways

3 See Stuart Hall: The West and the Rest: Discourse and Power. In: Stuart Hall, Bram Gieben (Eds.): Formations of Modernity. Cambridge 1992, pp. 275–320. 4 See Sebastian Conrad, Jürgen Osterhammel (Eds.): Das Kaiserreich transnational. Deutschland in der Welt 1871–1914. Goettingen 2004; Sven Oliver Müller, Cornelius Troy (Eds.): Das Deutsche Kaiserreich in der Kontroverse. Goettingen 2009.

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of experiencing and interpreting the world in terms of openness and multiperspectivity. 5 Horst Köhler thus took up ideas formulated by the international committee for reflection on the transformation and use of Berlin’s historic center—and he substantiated the committee’s recommendations. Despite the speech’s argumentative strength and fascinating ideas, its title testifies to the ambivalence of the project. Unsurprisingly, this ambiguity is also at the heart of the heated debate on the project. The title of Professor Köhler’s speech reads: “In Berlin, the universal conversation should now begin.” 6 Many historians, intellectuals, and civil society activists who have united under the label “postcolonial Germany” have emphasized that the debate is not just beginning but has been going on for several centuries and that today’s Germany is already its product. 7 After all, a character from Goethe’s 1809 novella Elective Affinities says about Alexander von Humboldt, eponym of the Humboldt Forum: “You cannot walk among palm-trees [sic] with impunity, and your sentiments must surely alter in a land where elephants and tigers are at home.” 8

At a second glance, it is essential to place this famous saying in its textual context. The novella is about passion and reason, dangerous games between temptation and loss of control, and order and disorder. Ottilie, one of the piece’s central characters, writes in her diary: “Sometimes, when I have been seized by curiosity to see such exotic things, I have envied the traveler who can behold these wonders in an everyday living relationship with other wonders. But then he too suffers a change.” 9

Finally, the focus is on making contact with a kind of reality other than the one to which one got accustomed and the resulting inevitable changes indwelling for human beings. On contact, one does not remain the same. The transformation of one’s identity is unavoidable. In Goethe’s novella, the character speaks merely of contact with a new environment and the changes such contact will bring. However, through the reading experience, even those who have not traveled encounter images and categories and may reinterpret local and everyday experiences and thus give occurrences 5 See http://www.preussischer-kulturbesitz.de/news-detail/article/2014/07/04/redevonbundespraesident - ad - prof - dr - horst - koehler - zum - humboldt - forum / ? sword _ list%5B0%5D=o_cache=1=1 (retrieved July 20, 2019). 6 Ibid. 7 See Marianne Bechhaus-Gerst, Joachim Zeller: Deutschland Postkolonial? Die Gegenwart der imperialen Vergangenheit. Berlin 2018. 8 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Elective Affinities (translation by R. J. Hollingdale) London 1971, p. 220. 9 Ibid.

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a new meaning. The voyages of the explorers were followed with great devotion in Europe, enabling Europeans to expand their perception of the global regions and redefine and reposition themselves in relation to the world. Yet, European contact with tropical reality was not limited to walks under palm trees. Humboldt and, after him, many other Europeans traveled to every corner of the world, and they brought more than tokens back to Europe. All too often, people from other parts of the world followed the travelers to Europe against their will so that they were exposed to an experience otherwise the voyagers’ prerogative. These interactions led to human relationships in colonial and slave contexts. Humboldt recognized the moral and general human regressions that the colonial context would produce in both the colonizers and the colonized—and rated the effect a problem. 10 Europe believed it could impact, change, and connect the world without needing to change itself. Postcolonial discourse and the subsequent interpretation of the world remind us that this perception is a fiction feeding on illusions. A paradigm deeply entangled with the postcolonial approach has taken hold in recent years and has succeeded in challenging the idea of the purity of the nation (or any other community) in terms of culture and identity that supposedly solely derives from its indigenous elements. The postcolonial approach introduces the idea of a structural, discursive, and mental continuity between the historical colonial world and the current globalized modernity. However, this does not mean that no other forces and logics are equally crucial to the status’ emergence and consolidation. As with any present and past reality, several competing narratives may elaborate the trajectory and formation of that reality. However, such narratives are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Looking at Germany in particular, postcolonial research has shown that important traces, both mental and material, have remained from the longago and relatively short colonial phase, so it is not permissible to treat the era as a marginal epiphenomenon. Thus, as an entry on the blog freiburgpostkolonial.de 11 notes, current research has brought to light images, 10 Two of Humboldt’s entries in his travel diary indicate how he felt about the regression: “In these latitudes, where impunity reigns down to the clergy, it is difficult for a European to remain a decent human being, so I ask God daily not to let me die here because, without a doubt, I would be damned.” “The very idea of the colony is immoral—the idea of a country that is obliged to pay tribute to another, [. . . ] in which one is only to attain a certain degree of prosperity, in which industriousness and enlightenment are only allowed to spread to a certain point.” Alexander von Humboldt: Travel diary, Guayaquil (Ecuador), Jan. 4, until Febr. 17, 1803. https:// humboldt-heute.de/de/geschichten/zitate (retrieved July 20, 2019). 11 See http://www.freiburg-postkolonial.de/ (retrieved July 20, 2019).

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speeches, structures, political practices, and objects that shaped everyday life in the past and still exist today, even if hidden, repressed, or positively reinterpreted. 12 In several German cities, initiatives have drawn attention to these realities and started to make them visible. Some of these places are loaded with memories because they were sites of colonization-related activities, such as colonial trade, training for colonial troops, or exhibitions of objects, animals, and people brought to Europe from the colonies. The purpose of these exhibitions was entertaining and educating the public; exhibition organizers meant them to attest to and legitimize the right of the metropolis to do as it pleased with goods, people, and the colonial space. Over time, some of these sites adopted differing uses. The transformation into memorial sites then serves remembrance practices and has a distancing effect. As we know, the distance-creating feature of memorial sites is an effective means of removing the veil of normality provided by the outward appearance of a place. The transformation thus provides the means to question ostensible normality in terms of its historical, moral, and political legitimacy. Additionally, the effect allows for perceiving homologies and semantic similarities to other commonplace realities and critiquing them. 13 Places of memory are sites designed to carry out remembrance practices. Still, sites of commemoration such as colonial monuments or streets and places bearing names from the colonial context are also conduits through which the colonial idea and the symbolism of colonial relations get incorporated into the national imagination, whether or not the continuity is intentional. However, the artifacts housed in the so-called ethnographic museums exceed the latter in significance when symbolizing colonial practices and relations. The housed objects may seem put together at random. Nevertheless, they are first and foremost indicators for and evidence of the idea of otherness as it developed in the West from the 16th century to

12 See Shalini Randeria, Regina Römhild: Das postkoloniale Europa. Verflochtene Genealogien der Gegenwart. Einleitung zur erweiterten Neuauflage. In: Shalini Randeria, Regina Römhild, Sebastian Conrad (Eds.): Jenseits des Eurozentrismus. Frankfurt on the Main 2013, pp. 9–31; Stuart Hall: Rassismus und kulturelle Identität. Hamburg 1994; Bechhaus-Gerst, Zeller (note 7); Pascal Blanchard et al (Eds.): La fracture coloniale, la société française au prisme de l’héritage colonial. Paris 2005; Nicolas Bancel, Pascal Blanchard: Culture post-coloniale, 1961–2006. Traces mémoires coloniales en France. Paris 2011; Achille Mbembe: Kritik der schwarzen Vernunft. Frankfurt on the Main 2014. 13 See Joachim Zeller: Kolonialdenkmäler und Geschichtsbewusstsein. Eine Untersuchung der kolonialdeutschen Erinnerungskultur. Frankfurt on the Main 2000.

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the present. In addition, they are also corpora delicti concerning colonial interaction. Researchers who study the history of such museums emphasize that these artifacts were arranged en masse to form cabinets of curiosities that, among other things, provided an experience of otherness without travel. And the assets bore witness to the bravery and success of colonial conquerors as trophies in ethnographic museums and art collections. 14 French anthropologist Benoît de L’Estoile shows that studying exhibitions can help reconstruct an anthropology of how notions of the Other developed in various Western countries and thus allows tracing of how the West understood its place in the world. 15 Formerly providing empirical elements for analyzing and defining the Other, these artifacts enable us today to reconstruct the constituting process of the principle that Stuart Hall, as mentioned above, has called “The West and the Rest”—that is, a dichotomous and hierarchical perception of the world. 16 The Western view of artifacts allowed for modeling and reshaping different paradigms depending on the contemporarily thinkable and sayable. Therefore, the account of the artifacts was not determined by the artifacts’ manifestation but by European or Western intellectual discourses and the changes occurring in the real-world relationship between Europe and the space under colonial rule. The debates between advocates of monogenism and polygenism and between creationists and naturalists created an evolutionist discourse that gave the colonial practice a veneer more in line with Enlightenment rhetoric about human progress. Colonization thus became a civilizing mission, and even the Church, which fought against evolutionary theories, used the reinterpretation of colonization as a European task as an argument to give itself a role in the colonial framework. In particular, the Church argued that it wanted to facilitate access to the true faith for people far afield. European consensus had it that Christianity was essential to Western culture and that these peoples’ integration was necessary. The

14 See Beatrix Hoffmann: Das Museumobjekt als Tausch- und Handelsgegenstand. Zum Bedeutungswandel musealer Objekte im Kontext der Veräußerungen aus dem Sammlungsbestand des Museums für Völkerkunde Berlin. Münster 2012; Claudia Ramseier, Manuela Meneghini: Das ethnographische Museum im Spannungsfeld von Wissenschaft und Publikums-Orientierung. Eine Standortbestimmung der ethnographischen Museen in der Schweiz. Bern 2003; Michael Kraus, Karoline Noack: Völkerkundemuseum? Aktuelle Debatten zu ethnologischen Sammlungen in Museen und Universitäten. Bielefeld 2015. 15 See Benoît de L’Estoile: Le Goût des Autres, de l’Exposition coloniale aux Arts premiers. Paris 2007. 16 See Hall (note 3).

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ethnological museums thus provided empirical evidence for insinuating a primitive, practically backward mentality. Once colonization had taken root, a historiographical discourse developed in which objective cultural differences were no longer seen as signs of the simultaneity of the non-simultaneous but as expressions of inherent cultural differences. The Europeans no longer located the Other on a different point along the temporal axis of human development but attested to genuine otherness. Simultaneously, as the notion of the simultaneity of the Other gained credence, the specific form of colonization-built momentum, aiming to transform other societies by integrating them into a globalized economy and determining their place in relation to the metropolis. The Other is “the simultaneous” in a fractionalized humanity attesting to de facto existing hierarchies. Yet, the view focusing on the artifacts of the Others, at least in scientific, anthropological discourse, underwent a transition. The Europeans found the objects’ preservation all the more urgent because the things were in danger of disappearing due to the “civilizing” actions regarding the object-creating peoples. Finally, “civilizing” meant, at least to some extent, delegitimizing objects with ritual value and replacing things with practical value by Western industrial goods. The beginning of the 20th century saw the emergence of a new perspective on such things, especially in art. In search of renewal for their creativity, the European artistic avant-garde discovered “primitive” artifacts and elevated them to the status of works of art. They thus acquired a reputation that, since the Romantic period, had meant boosting an object to a level above all other man-made things and making it an object of veneration. However, there was little new about that. The approach is part of a “mythic vision, recurring and never outof-date, [. . . ] nudging us to look longingly for a ‘lost paradise’ among peoples who are supposedly ‘primitive’ or ‘primordial’ and have hitherto been preserved from corruption by Western society. However, they are subject to the threat of Westernization now. Eventually, this is a selfcritique that, since Rousseau, has produced a counterpart for the idealized West.” 17 Years after decolonization, the conceptions of the Musée des Arts Premiers in Paris and the Humboldt Forum in Berlin show that museum councils revisit this angle to develop a new rationale for carrying on with ethnological museums. In this context, it is important to point out that

17 Fabrice Grognet: Du sens perdu de l’Autre et du Semblable. In: L’homme (2008) No. 185–186, p. 11.

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while it has been possible to historicize the various discourses surrounding the conceptions of these museums and the timing of their establishment, this has neither rendered obsolete nor led to the disappearance of the differing perspectives expressed in the discourses. The diverse views still result in competing, but not necessarily mutually exclusive, concepts when it comes to questions of contextualization and semantics regarding artifacts and human remains collected and preserved in ethnological museums.

4 A Critique of the Colonial Library Suppose one wants to re-conceptualize the idea and pragmatics of ethnological museums. In that case, there is no way around an anthropologically founded interpretive approach embedded in a critique of the colonial library. The Congolese philosopher Valentin-Yves Mundimbe used the term in 1988 to describe the body of knowledge produced about Africa in the context and under the conditions of colonization. 18 He aims to capture the prerequisites for descriptions of all kinds (scientific, political, literary, religious, etc.), limiting the discursive production of knowledge, ideas, and representations concerning Africa and Africans. From a nominalist perspective, he speaks of the Invention of Africa via these discourses. He rejects the notion that there is an absolute objective reality of Africa that one would only have to put in words, no matter the discourse’s character. And his verdict applies to scientific strategies as well. On the contrary, mere words create an idea of Africa that needed colonization and, at the same time, legitimize Western discourses and organize Western practice. Therefore, Mundimbe is more interested in these discourses’ epistemological, ideological, and even idiosyncratic foundations than their ability to capture ‘true’ reality. “I shall be dealing with discourses on African societies, cultures, and peoples as signs of something else. I would like to interrogate their modalities, significance, or strategies as a means of understanding the type of knowledge which is being proposed. In fact, I do not address the classical issues of African anthropology or history, the results of which might or might not mirror an objective African reality. Rather I am looking upstream of the results, precisely at what makes them possible, before accepting them as commentary on revelation, or restitution, of an African experience.” 19

18 See Valentin-Yves Mundimbe: The Invention of Africa. Gnosis, Philosophy and the Order of Knowledge. Bloomington 1988. 19 Ibid., introduction, p. xi–x.

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Mundimbe’s research follows in the footsteps of Foucault’s archaeology of knowledge. Yet, Mundimbe renders his efforts even more important when he can reveal that essential parts of the discourse produced by Africans about themselves reproduce epistemological and semantic models of the colonial body of knowledge, respectively, the Colonial Library. In advancing that way, he seizes on one of the main objectives of the postcolonial approach. He develops a critical view regarding the knowledge produced about Africa, analyzing the inconsistency and the continuities beyond any disjunctures. To fully understand the specificity and significance of the postcolonial perspective, it is helpful to show how it breaks with perceptions known from another, seemingly affiliated discourse, namely the postmodern. A recognized contemporary German philosopher of postmodern thought notes: “Contemporary cultures are externally interconnected and intertwined in the highest possible way. Manifestations of life are no longer limited to the boundaries of the distinctive cultures of yore (the ostensible national cultures) but exceed the limits, and one finds them in other cultures as well. The way of life of an economist, a scientist, or a journalist is no longer simply German or French but European—if not global. Internally, contemporary cultures got widely characterized by hybridization [. . . ], which applies to populations, commodities, and information. Indeed, the majority of countries worldwide are home to nationals of all the nations of the world.” 20

After all, the problematic nature of the postmodern line of argumentation becomes apparent in Welsch’s statement. Employing a daring generalization, he derives the characteristics of contemporary cultures from some social actors’ way of life—namely economists, scientists, and journalists. He claims a universal reality while addressing a particular European culture in the same move. In the end, the global contemporary culture shrinks to the attitudes and practices of a tiny stratum of European society, namely those who claim their behavior to be civilized. Hence, “contemporary culture” is the elite culture of educated, cosmopolitan Europeans. Welsch proceeds likewise when he draws on examples from history or other parts of the world. Indeed, his contemporary conception of culture lacks critical self-reflection; hence, he can’t recognize and question existing forms of representation in the respective cultural expressions, which have become conventionalized in the dialectic of foreign description and selfdescription. Welsch can emancipate his conception from some tradi20 Wolfgang Welsch: Was ist eigentlich Transkulturalität? In: Dorothee Kimmich, Schamma Schahadat (Eds.): Kulturen in Bewegung. Beiträge zur Theorie und Praxis der Transkulturalität. Bielefeld 2012, pp. 25–40, p. 28.

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tional categories and discourses—for example, from the idea of spherical seclusion of respective cultures. 21 However, occasionally he reproduces, probably not deliberate, nomic terms, that is, prefabricated ordering terms and attributions. Therefore, his argumentation becomes problematic in the end. One finds cosmopolitan attitudes and implicit evolutionist thinking in Welsch’s texts. Teleological thinking seems to be self-evident for him. He falls back on phylogenetic terms when he encounters a need to belong to a nation and experience unity. When such a craving for “ostensible purity” to the degree that it includes the necessity for excluding the foreign gets articulated under today’s conditions, he sees at work an antiquated regressive reflex, which represents a relapse into a phase in human history already overcome. 22 Even though he speaks of “disparities of power” and deems the imbalance responsible for the fact that the identities of “today’s people—the poor as well as the rich—are becoming increasingly transcultural,” 23 the ductus and logic of Hegel’s Weltgeist and Karl Marx’s belief in progress are unmistakable. Marx states that the capitalist conquest of the world, however cruel it may be for many peoples, represents a moment in humanity’s unstoppable progress and a step towards the historical emancipation of these peoples. 24 In any case, Welsch attests that the transcultural paradigm increasingly appears as a “reality and not merely a wish.” 25 And he postulates that openness and acceptance of diversity characterize the transcultural mindset. “Suppose individuals have adopted a whole range of cultural patterns into their identity. In that case, it is more likely that they get a chance to connect with a social environment comprising multiple cultural practices and manifestations than if their identities subsumed only one pattern.” 26

The problem is that lived reality is quintessentially different. Politically and culturally motivated tensions between countries and groups of people

21 Johann Gottfried Herder coined the well-known remark: “Each nationality contains its centre of happiness within in itself, as a sphere the centre of gravity!” In: This Too a Philosophy of History for the Formation of Humanity (originally published 1774). In: Johann Gottfried Herder: Philosophical Writings, ed. by Michael N. Forster. Cambridge 2002, p. 88. Wolfgang Welsch explicitly criticizes this idea. See Wolfgang Welsch: Transkulturalität. Realität – Geschichte – Aufgabe. Vienna 2017. 22 Ibid., p. 35. 23 Ibid., p. 10. 24 See Karl Marx, Friedrich Engels: The Manifesto of the Communist Party, London 1888. 25 Welsch (note 21), p. 10. 26 Ibid., p. 6.

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arise daily. In contemporary, so-called transcultural societies, otherness is a challenge, and demands for uniformity and xenophobia interfere with the functioning of institutions. And the turmoil proves that the transcultural paradigm is more of a performative term useful to outline future ideals but by no means a descriptive category. Postmodern thinkers tend to produce simplistic discourses about reality and ignore the complexity of how people, societies, and cultures live together and interact. It remains a utopia to see individuals as sovereign and enlightened world citizens who have long since overcome the desire to merge into social unity or shed the herd instinct and move on maintaining harmonious, rational, and unbiased relationships with others. And when utopia gets confused with reality, the sense of reality is lost. Next, the consideration of necessities, such as educational work to teach ethical values and political efforts to enable conflict-free coexistence, is neglected. We need knowledge that provides clarity, reveals dynamics, and makes possibilities for change visible. Cultures take from other cultures, but they also work to define themselves and each other, creating cultural differences. This process contains factors of conflict that do not favor idyllic coexistence between peoples, whether they live in the same place or far apart. When groups interact, the produced representations create or perpetuate imaginative worlds that lead to conflict. The essential knowledge about an intercultural situation is about the imaginative worlds and how they get expressed. The theories of cultural difference formulated by Arjun Appadurai, 27 Homi K. Bhabha, 28 Edward Said, 29 Stuart Hall, Toni Morisson, 30 Ash Amin, 31 and many others address these conflictual dynamics. Their theories enable the formulation of hypotheses and epistemological goals that make sense of historical contexts, individual subjective motivations, existing discourses and taxonomies, anxieties, structural dispositions, memories, and so on. These factors have implications for social and symbolic interactions, especially intercultural dynamics. These theories account for the complexity of the processes—and so does the postcolonial approach. By working on the colonial library and archaeologically exploring its knowledge, the postcolonial 27 See Arjun Appadurai: Modernity at Large. Cultural Dimensions of Globalization. Minneapolis 1996. 28 See Homi K. Bhabha: The Location of Culture. London and New York 1994. 29 See Edward Said: Orientalism. New York 1979. 30 See Toni Morrison: Playing in the Dark. Whiteness and the Literary Imagination. Cambridge 1992. 31 See Ash Amin: Ethnicity and the Multicultural City. Living with Diversity. In: Environment and Planning 34 (2002) No. 6, pp. 959–980.

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line of thinking develops a sensitivity to contingency and change and the precise circumstances in the production of alterity and self-definition. The postcolonial perspective reveals the unconscious side of these knowledge orders, a side that, because it is unconscious, can reproduce itself even in attempts to overcome it.

5 A Reconsideration of the Conditions That Render It Possible to Coexist in the Globalized Postcolonial World The relational histories of the globalized world, characterized by structural, economic, and political asymmetries, give rise to bodies of knowledge and varying practices that are highly conflictual. Various discourses, procedures, and agendas have developed, related to each other by competing dynamics, which testify to the difficulty of organizing harmonious coexistence in the postcolonial world. 32 (1) On certain occasions and in diverse spatial contexts, individuals and institutions activate ethnolinguistic, cultural, religious, and historically constituted markers to produce discourses about themselves and others. (2) Ethnic minorities, migrants, and other marginalized actors are vested with values and identities in a specific way to enable them to construct and occupy subject positions. (3) Particular historical memories and memory politics get constructed and deployed to contribute to social and spatial differentiation processes and consolidate the results. (4) Migrant communities and host societies—and their respective representatives—appropriate specific symbolic spaces of diversity. (5) By elevating notions of otherness and prompting moves to occupy culturally meaningful spaces, phenomena get strengthened that contribute to the assertion of differences and implementation of exclusion practices in intercultural interactions and dialogues. (6) Everyday discriminatory practices of exclusion and inclusion, as well as mediations and translations, get adopted in narratives and organizational structures of institutions. (7) On certain occasions, certain actors problematize and call into question multicultural spaces. (8) Specific temporal and spatial terms emerge, signifying multicultural spaces and diversities. 32 See Ursula Lehmkuhl et al (Eds.): Spaces of Differences. Conflicts and Cohabitation. Münster 2016.

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(9) Forms, strategies, and modalities of representation and consideration contribute to the effect that differences get embedded and perpetuated or foster transcultural spaces and practices. (10) In narrations of the Self and the Other, macro and micro relations limit and influence each other. Even daily contact does not guarantee cultural exchange and transfer. Instead, it can reinforce hostility and rejection of the Other, as practices and customs common to some may be perceived as unacceptable by others. Therefore, many cases call for a pedagogy of mutual rapprochement and exchange and benefit from reducing prejudice and facilitating cooperative dynamics by efforts to create specially tweaked spaces and communication channels. The postcolonial setup is part of the dynamics that generate conflict. Since the approach focuses on the historical processes and addresses the constituting mechanism of—often naturalized and trivialized—asymmetries, hierarchies, and latent structural conflicts, the postcolonial perspective initiates and provokes discomfort that can lead to dogged and defensive attitudes. By and large, these attitudes manifest in several ways: – Advocates of nationalist, ethnocentric, racist, and thus difference-postulating positions bluster on discursive, methodological, and epistemological levels. – Some search desperately for historical details to reveal the postcolonial side’s failure in producing truthful historical knowledge—or, at least, show the postcolonial bias. – Some postulate ostentatiously the existence of a modern or postmodern consciousness that has rid itself of the intellectual dross of the imperial and colonial times and adheres to categories and paradigms chastened and purified by reason and consistent ethical concerns. The postcolonial approach is a party to the conflict-generating dynamics but comes to it from a dialectical stance. The critique of the Colonial Library and the underlying unconscious forces strives for a cathartic and pedagogical effect and aims to transform the postcolonial reality into something substantially different. The objective is a relatively fair reality, supportive of the flourishing of all individuals, groups, and regions of the globalized world. Therefore, the postcolonial approach is interested in the phenomena of hybridization as a model and as a possibility for newly constructed interstices that foreshadow a possible future but remain marginal. The postcolonial approach works to understand why these spaces remain marginal and even threatened. Yet, it works to make explicit the traditions, the forces, the orders of knowledge, and the practices that—whether

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wittingly or unwittingly—feed the dichotomous and hierarchical colonial vision.

6 Perspectives for Fighting against Oblivion The campaign for restituting African artifacts brought to Europe before, during, and after colonization shares the abovementioned objectives. However, the initiative rests on the idea of reparation through compensation. This understanding is supposed to be a paradigm shift in the relations between the former colonial metropolises and the formerly subjugated peoples. At the very least, it is supposed to be an indicator of establishing a new kind of relationship. In the Sarr-Savoy report, the most detailed and systematic document on this idea, the authors anticipate critics asking whether reparation would erase any moral responsibility. Can the act of restitution erase the traces of the past crime and thus prompt its fall into oblivion? 33 Although the authors reject such a critique, the point remains relevant. The Cameroonian political scientist, historian, and philosopher Achille Mbembe returned to this question when he responded to the laudation of the Head of the Department of Cultural Affairs in the Federal Foreign Office, Michelle Müntefering, on the awarding of the 2018 Gerda Henkel Prize to him. In particular, he wondered if allowing Europeans to return property of colonial origin would make things too easy for them. He recalled that the West had never acknowledged any debt to Africa: “We must ask ourselves if we are making their task too easy by renouncing the right to remember. And dare we go further and reject the offer of restitution altogether? By doing so, the objects in the museums would become eternal proof of what Europe has done and for which it did not want to take responsibility. We would condemn Europe to live forever with what they have looted—and to continue playing their Cain role to the bitter end. [. . . ] On the other hand, we will have to live with the radical loss.” 34

The relevance of Mbembe’s critique concerning the idea of restitution is undeniable. However, there are alternatives to the status quo. Suppose management of these goods would precisely place the original offense’s memory at the center of the semantic mode, aligning the way of dealing with and displaying the objects. In that case, exhibiting the things would 33 See Sarr, Savoy (note 1), p. 26. 34 https://www.deutschlandfunkkultur.de/achille-mbembe-der-westen-traegt-einenmuehlstein-von-schuld.2165.de.html?dram:article_id=430117 (retrieved July 20, 2019).

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not allow for erasing memory traces. Several models are conceivable; however, it seems that an approach in several steps would be most effective. (1) The first step would be the transfer of ownership of these objects to an international organization with known and recognized moral authority. UNESCO could assume the role of owner and administrator. Or the former colonial powers and current owners of the objects could pool funds for an expressly stipulated institution. Such an overarching institution could thematically assemble the artifacts in one or more locations or even leave them in their current condition and prepare them for traveling exhibitions. This approach does not neglect the initial act of dislocation. Still, it shifts the location of the artifacts—at least symbolically—and removes them from the logic of national appropriation and the seizure of the old and new metropolises. By elevating the objects to international and transcultural status, we interrupt the tradition of their embedding in national and colonial discursive logic and make them available for different contextualizations and interpretations. (2) Following the model of the Kassel documenta and depending on the program, each exhibition could feature renowned intellectuals or well-known groups of intellectuals entrusted with the thematic elaboration of the showing or the aspect of memory they choose to highlight. In this way, each showcasing would render visible a personal presentation referencing current events and specific concerns of the curators. Besides, this would solve one of the problems of ethnographic museums since not only the legitimacy of their property is in question, but also the narratives they use. (3) After all, formerly colonized people or their descendants can develop a discourse about ancestrally produced objects that were, as yet, eventually integrated into a discourse other than their own. Thus, one could imagine an alternation or variation of viewpoints. One could also imagine joint activities to extrapolate the semantic content of these objects, starting from different biographies, disciplines, and sensibilities. An exhibition conceptualized along these lines would provide an opportunity to reflect on the tragedy of history, wonder why certain events were possible, and understand the meanings and consequences of particular past and present actions. In short, it would lift any veil of supposed normality and obviousness from certain historical and current practices. The status of the objects would change, and they would reveal multiple aspects at once: the existence of the cultures that created them, their history and the meaning of that history, the uses that people made of them,

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the features that made people gaze at them and the logic of those gazes, the passions they have unleashed and the battles that have been fought for them or around them. An exhibition of the objects would then offer various opportunities: for learning, raising awareness, remembrance, and commemoration. Cultural objects have complex histories regarding their creation, impact, interpretation, and use. In the case of the goods discussed here, we must add the history of their displacement and appropriation, the dispute over them, their owners’ relations, etc. Depending on the perspective, one can bring a single or a bunch of these stories into focus. Beyond their aesthetic significance, the objects are strongholds of memory and means to recall the past. This way, museum objects from colonial contexts could become memorials to commemorate events one hopes will never happen again.

Viola König

The Berlin Ethnologisches Museum Its New Role as a Catalyst in the Humboldt Forum and the Implications for the German Restitution Debate

1 The Berlin Ethnologisches Museum, the Origin of Its Collections, and Early Referrals Once founded as a “Rettungsasyl” or “Asylum for Safekeeping” to “preserve for posterity all that got threatened with destruction in the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th century by the Europeans’ global claim to power,” 1 ethnological museums have themselves become an issue after 150 years, especially their collections from colonial contexts, first and foremost from Africa. In Berlin alone, we are talking about 55,000 objects sent between 1884 and 1914 from the former German colonial territories to the Königliches Museum für Völkerkunde (i.e., Royal Museum of Ethnology), now the Ethnologisches Museum (i.e., Ethnological Museum). However, most of the approximately half a million museum objects came from other continents, far more than a third from the Americas. They are witnesses to the history of European undertakings abroad: appropriation of knowledge and territory and settlement. Since Alexander von Humboldt’s travels, the double continent of America was considered particularly attractive for exploration. Individual collectors each brought tens of thousands of archaeological and ethnographic collections to Germany, often semilegally. 2

1 Peter Bolz: Das Ethnologische Museum. Rettungsasyl, Forschungszentrum und Ort der Präsentation. In: Berliner Geschichte. Zeitschrift für Geschichte und Kultur 18 (2019), pp. 22–31, p. 23. 2 Viola König: (Ein)Sammeln, (Ab)Kaufen, (Aus)Rauben, (Weg)Tauschen – Zeitgeist und Methode ethnographischer Sammlungstätigkeit in Berlin. In: Andrea Bärnreuther, Peter-Klaus Schuster (Eds.): Zum Lob der Sammler. Die Staatlichen Museen zu Berlin und ihre Sammler. Berlin 2009, pp. 286–306.

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Founding director Adolf Bastian (1826–1905) was able to establish his museum in Berlin thanks to the ideational and financial support of the Director General of the Royal Museums, the archaeologist Richard Schöne (1880–1905). Yet already his successor, the art historian Wilhelm Bode (1845–1929), stated outraged in his inaugural speech: “Senseless accumulation of objects, especially [. . . ] acquisitions, which came to us from our colonies in Africa and Polynesia through colonial officials, for the most part, as rather extemporary arriving gifts, had even then resulted in unbearable overcrowding. [. . . ] The director of the most extensive collection and the one most affected by those serious deficiencies, Professor von Luschan, was insatiable in piling up even the most modern products of primitive peoples, which had already been created entirely under European influence.” 3

Bode wanted to present some highlights of the “primitive peoples,” and Bastian aimed to establish a “universal archive of humanity.” The two concepts did not go together. After Bastian’s death, the powerful Bode, called “General,” decreed that the ethnographic collections should “be freed from the burden of duplicates by sale, mutual exchange, or if otherwise impossible, by simple disposal.” 4 Between the world wars, ethnological museums suffered from the Great Depression, lack of money, and increasing lack of space after unpacking and inventorying the vast collections. Without scruples, museums exchanged their objects, gave them away, and sold them. For example, the ethnologist Edgar Walden, “scientific assistant” at the Berlin Museum für Völkerkunde, “brokered” to German museums, among other things, war booty from the Maji Maji War, a 1905–1907 conflict in Tanzania, then German East Africa. However, he also sold pieces to a controversial commercial address: father and son Arthur Speyer, notorious for their intensive bartering activities in German museums. Moreover, Walden traded Nigeria-originating Benin bronzes from the Berlin collection to the Speyers and the Hildesheim Roemer und Pelizaeus Museum. 5 The surrender of collection items was by no means always a taboo, as opponents of restitutions allege. 3 Wilhelm von Bode: Mein Leben, Vol. 2. Berlin 1930, pp. 173–176, http://www.zeno. org/nid/20003847470 (retrieved March 31, 2020). 4 Sigrid Westphal-Hellbusch: Hundert Jahre Museum für Völkerkunde Berlin. Zur Geschichte des Museums. In: Hundert Jahre Museum für Völkerkunde Berlin (special issue Baessler-Archiv N.F. 22), pp. 1–99, p. 27. 5 See Beatrix Hoffmann: Das Museumsobjekt als Tausch- und Handelsgegenstand. Zum Bedeutungswandel musealer Objekte im Kontext der Veräußerungen aus dem Sammlungsbestand des Museums für Völkerkunde Berlin. Münster 2012, pp. 51 and 261.

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Fig. 1: Adolf Bastian (1826–1905), first director of the Berlin Königliches Museum für Völkerkunde in 1860, and his director of the Africa and Oceania departments Felix von Luschan (1854–1924) in 1878. © Ethnologisches Museum der Staatlichen Museen zu Berlin – Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz

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Despite relocations from 1939 onwards, the Ethnologisches Museum suffered extensive wartime losses after World War II due to attacks by the Allies, destruction of buildings during the war, and extensive looting by the Russian army. 6 The trauma sat deep. From the prosperity period in the 1960s onwards, the reconstruction of the buildings and the consolidation of the thinned-out, previously stashed holdings led to a replacement mentality resulting in new acquisitions, also from dubious sources, e.g., the notorious art trade. As early as one year after Bastian’s death in 1906, “General” Bode ordered another drastic measure in Berlin against the explicit will of the ethnologists in charge: the founding of an Asian Art Museum featuring collections formerly housed in the Ethnologisches Museum. Following Bode, the new museum addressed the fields of “History, Art, and Culture.” In contrast, he ascribed the Ethnologisches Museum’s domain as “ahistorical, artless, primitive peoples.” The Museum of Indian Art’s launch in 1963 completed the withdrawal. Finally, the collectibles from the Indian Subcontinent became part of the new Museum of Asian Art in 2006. Sally Price describes the process as follows: “Ethnographic artifacts become masterpieces of world art at the point when they shed their anthropological contextualization and are judged capable of standing purely on their own aesthetic merit.” 7

In 1998 plans by Bode’s successor, art historian Wolf-Dieter Dube (1934– 2015), became known to return the collection of the Museums of East Asian and Indian Art to the Ethnologisches Museum. Art historians protested that “this intervention” would be “a reincorporation of independent advanced civilizations into a colonial context. A blatant act of declassification and picture-perfect Eurocentrism.” 8 There is evidence that Dube, who was interested in African art and initiated exhibitions on the subject, wanted to elevate African works from their colonial context and have them recognized as pieces of an art genre in their own right. But he yielded to the pressure and abandoned the plans.

6 It was as late as 1990 that nearly 50,000 objects, which the Russian army had confiscated as war booty and given to the Ethnological Museum in Leipzig, were returned to Berlin. 7 Sally Price: Primitive Art in Civilized Places. Chicago 2nd ed. 2001, p. 86. 8 Petra Kipphoff: Letzte Schlachten am falschen Ort. Generaldirektor Dube will seine Berliner Museen aufmischen. In: Zeit, Oct. 8, 1998, https://www.zeit.de/1998/42/ Letzte_Schlachten_am_falschen_Ort (retrieved Febr. 29, 2020).

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2 German Art History and Its Neglect of Colonialism and Restitution Art history has traditionally been a powerful subject within the faculties of humanities respectively the departments of history and cultural studies, visible to the public, and influential in cultural politics. Art history had a strong lobby, set the tone in many committees, and exercised a decisive influence in filling prestigious posts in the German cultural landscape and senior positions in museums, including ethnological ones. Besides, possessing art treasures increases the importance of institutions as well as the reputation and wealth of private collectors. Private and institutional owners depend on art historical expertise. Still, German art history focused on national, European, and Europeaninfluenced North American art until the 1990s. As under Bode, art historians declared a few select works from the indigenous cultures of Africa, the Americas, Asia, and Oceania “primitive art”—regardless of their original context. And they recognized works from the so-called “advanced civilizations” such as China, Mexico, India, and others as art and treated the pieces differently than objects from the “primitive peoples.” For a long time, German art history missed out on the debate on colonialism, a long-disputed issue in neighboring sciences. 9 Until the end of the 20th century, art history still adhered to the Old-World categories and Western specializations: Egypt, Middle East, Far East, Ancient Times, Early Christian Times, Byzantine Era, Medieval Times, Renaissance, Baroque, 18th century Germany and Europe, 19th and 20th century Europe, Contemporary Art. In his 1997 essay The Map of Art History, Robert S. Nelson commented: “By the end of the last century, the West, now including the United States of America, controlled 80 percent of the world, and peoples everywhere outside this culture did indeed lose contact with their pasts in the pressure to modernize and to acquiesce to Western systems of time and history. Peoples were wrenched from the centers of their worlds and positioned at the margins relative to the West by many political and semantic devices, including the continuation of such categories as ‘Near East.’ The West became the most developed, the acme of evolution: The Rest, underdeveloped, developing, or copying. World histories and world art histories function within this larger apparatus to incorporate the Rest into the West.” 10

9 See the exhibition account “Bremen und die Kunst in der Kolonialzeit in der Bremer Kunsthalle,” https://www.kunsthalle-bremen.de/de/view/exhibitions/exb-page/derblinde-fleck (retrieved March 16, 2020). 10 Robert S. Nelson: The Map of Art History. In: The Art Bulletin 79 (1997) No. 1, pp. 28– 40, p. 37, http://www.jstor.org/stable/3046228 (retrieved March 24, 2020).

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It took until the 11th Kassel documenta, curated by the Nigerian-born Okwui Enwezor as a major exhibition of contemporary art, that critical rethinking came to pass in German art history. Enwezor’s exhibition is considered the “first truly global, postcolonial documenta.” Challenging “the unspoken attention hierarchies of the Western exhibition system,” it denied legitimacy to the West’s exoticizing view of ‘the foreign.’” 11 Yet the documenta, with its focus on contemporary art, had no influence on the power structure of the mostly tenured leadership positions in the West German cultural establishment—in cultural administrations, general directorates, and cultural policy. Since nothing changed, Experts trained in European art history continually built the majority. Twenty years ago, contemporary artists from the countries of origin began working with the collections in ethnological museums, participating in the artistic reappraisal of the colonial heritage from their perspective. Ten years later, multi-year projects took shape. 12 Quite late and due to external pressure, the Berlin exhibition venue Hamburger Bahnhof launched in 2018 “Hello World. The Revision of a Collection,” an exhibition including numerous works from the Ethnologisches Museum. When asked about the pieces’ problematic origins, Udo Kittelmann, director of the Nationalgalerie der Staatlichen Museen zu Berlin (including the Hamburger Bahnhof), stated: “Our institution is and will remain an art museum, and we stay the course. However, the whole debate on the subject of colonial origin and provenance research currently conducted is long overdue, and it goes beyond the realm of museum institutions.” 13

Indeed, however, it became absolutely clear during documenta 15 (2022) that German officials have learned little from two decades of experience in working with curators and artists outside their own cultural sphere. The obviously strained management, stuck in the art world of the German province, inexperienced in communicating with a group of artists characterized by heterogeneous political worldviews, failed to examine the submitted works adequately. In addition, however, the management probably did not dare to define the concrete conditions of acceptance or rejection of works with the

11 Retrospective regarding the 11th documenta, https://www.documenta.de/de/retro spective/documenta11 (retrieved March 11, 2020). 12 See “Humboldt Lab Dahlem” (Berlin 2012–2015), “Grassi invites” (Leipzig 2016), “Weltkulturen Labor” (Frankfurt since 2011), and “Berlin Biennale” 2014. 13 Udo Kittelmann regarding the major exhibition “Hello World. Revision einer Sammlung,” interviewed by Stefanie Dörre: In: tip plus Berlin, Apr. 20, 2018, https://www.tip-berlin.de/udo-kittelmann-ueber-die-grossausstellung-hello-worldrevision-einer-sammlung/ (retrieved March 30, 2020).

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renowned curatorial team ruangrupa from Indonesia in advance. The allegation that anti-Semitic attitudes were supposedly being displayed unnoticed at the documenta could no longer be dispelled. After twenty years, the “global, post-colonial documenta” had lost its innocence. With a certain arrogance, the persons responsible had ignored the partly painful experiences of the ethnological museums, among others, with the abovementioned Humboldt Lab Dahlem in preparation for the Humboldt Forum. For even the Lab’s curators had initially declared, unspoken, a rejection of contemporary works from or about Africa, Asia, Oceania, or the indigenous Americas to be taboo.

3 The Humboldt Forum as a catalyst and the “rediscovery” of old debates on restitution In the Humboldt Forum’s first decade, interdisciplinary advisory boards, including international representatives of postcolonialism, monitored the Forum’s exhibition planning and colonialism debates. 14 The appointment of British art historian Neil MacGregor, former director of the British Museum, by the Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media Monika Grütters in 2015 changed the conditions. Grütters made MacGregor primus inter pares alongside two co-directors, the president of the Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz (i.e., Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation) and prehistorian Hermann Parzinger and the art historian and professor at the Berlin Humboldt University Horst Bredekamp. MacGregor, previously an advisor on the Forum’s 2011 “International Advisory Board,” assembled a new ten-member “International Expert Team” that included only three members from the previous boards. 15 The changes resulted in the numerical superiority of six art historians. Moreover, MacGregor’s team lacked the necessary expertise on colonialism and ethnological collections from Africa, Oceania, the Americas, and Asia. Art historian Bénédicte Savoy was the only 14 See Viola König, Andrea Scholz (Eds.): Humboldt-Forum. Der lange Weg 1999–2012. Special issue Baessler-Archiv N. F. 59 (2012), pp. 10, 12, and 59. 15 The Kenyan archaeologist George Abungu, the Singaporean historian Lee Chor Lin, and the Indian art historian Jyotindra Jain had been members of the 2011 International Advisory Board. See The Presentation of the Collections of the Ethnological Museum and the Museum of Asian Art in the Humboldt-Forum, http://www.staatliche-museen.de/smb/media/news/32950/110408_Internatio nal_Advisory_Board_engl_kl.pdf (retrieved March 30, 2020). See the International Expert Team as of 2015 https://www.preussischer-kulturbesitz.de/meldung/article/ 2015/09/25/internationales-expertenteam-unterstuetzt-intendanz-des-humboldt-fo rums/ (retrieved March 30, 2020).

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representative from a German institution who brought knowledge of the context and structure of the project to the table. She stayed on for two years, then resigned in the summer of 2017. However, she chose no silent resignation but gave the Süddeutsche Zeitung a much-noticed interview. The fact that art historian Bénédicte Savoy, of all people, went public to want to know “how much blood drips from a work of art” and thus sparked a massive debate about how to deal with the colonial legacy is remarkable against the background of the ambivalent attitude of her discipline. 16 From this point on, which was remarkably 15 years after the decision for founding the Humboldt Form, the public was given the impression that the debate about dealing with the colonial heritage was a matter concerning art historians. Monika Grütters, the Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media, derived an “art historians’ dispute” from the Berlin altercation between Horst Bredekamp and Bénédicte Savoy. 17 However, Savoy’s accusations aimed at a political correction at the highest level, and she combined them with fundamental criticism focusing on the structure of the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation. She had avoided contacting the Ethnological Museum in the run-up to her resignation. Nevertheless, she lamented in the unabridged interview in 2017 “that there have been scholars working on these collections for 15 years who have not been taken seriously and whose plans have been tossed back and forth. How sad that is! A whole generation of qualified museum personnel has been sacrificed because it was unclear what would happen. No human being can work in ambiguity; it gets to you. The real science that took place there has a long tradition; Berlin was a frontrunner for this discipline in the 19th century. At present, they tell us that the people in Dahlem are clueless; [. . . ] you can’t humiliate, lock up, and muzzle people.” 18 As recently as 2015, when she joined MacGregor’s team of experts, she had taken a different view of the situation: “And these objects have been studied very intensively by dozens of scientists. Scholars have explored them in their materials, analyzed them in their function, and tried to contextualize them. The assets were anything but trophies.” 19 16 Bénédicte Savoy interviewed by Jörg Häntzschel. In: Süddeutsche Zeitung, July 21, 2017, p. 9, https://www.academia.edu/34270358/Interview_Jörg_Häntzschel_mit_ Bénédicte_Savoy_Süddeutsche_Zeitung_21.07.2017 (retrieved March 29, 2020). 17 Monika Grütters, Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media, interviewed by Ingo Langner: “Es ist ein regelrechter Kunsthistorikerstreit. Wie umgehen mit dem Kreuz, mit der Moderne und mit Objekten aus kolonialen Kontexten?” In: Tagespost, May 8, 2019, https://www.die-tagespost.de/gesellschaft/feuilleton/Es-istein-regelrechter-Kunsthistorikerstreit;art310,198006 (retrieved March 14, 2020). 18 Quoted from an e-mail that Jörg Häntzschel sent to Viola König on July 24, 2017. 19 Bénédicte Savoy interviewed by Henning Hübert. “Humboldt-Forum. Die Geschichte der Objekte ist absolut wichtig.” In: Deutschlandfunk Kultur heute, https://www.

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Savoy rightly criticized that there had been no political will to expand the disputes on colonialism and restitution beyond academic circles and to bring them into the public debate. The requisite catalyst was the outwardly visible reconstruction of the Berlin City Palace in conjunction with the Humboldt Forum’s founding. The resignation of an honored art historian from the expert team of the Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media came at the right moment. A year later, the report by Savoy and Felwine Sarr on the restitution of African cultural assets for French President Emmanuel Macron attracted even more attention, with a predominantly positive response in the media. 20 Savoy’s “discoveries,” as she later admitted, were not revealing something new, and scholars familiar with the topic already knew the sources she had found in the archives. Further, not-yet-evaluated museum documents provide information about the different attitudes of the directors of ethnological museums. What’s more, they give an insight into the influence of art historians as crucial decision-makers in German post-war cultural policy and the underlying set of priorities. Both factors have hardly been taken into account so far. These attitudes included the fading out of European colonial history’s role pertaining to German museum collections, the rejection of any claims to restitute museum property, and an arrogant, disparaging, even hostile attitude towards the so-called “Third World.” The magazine Spiegel published a detailed report in 1979 and addressed the actual conditions under the title “Packed up—and off to the Louvre.” The 1961–1983 general director of the Staatliche Museen zu Berlin Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz (Berlin State Museums Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation) including the Ethnologisches Museum, Stephan Waetzoldt warned that it was “irresponsible to give in to the nationalism of the developing countries, on the chance of possible short-term political success.” According to Waetzoldt, the “occidental museums” are “showcases of the Third World financed by taxpayers’ money.” 21 The widely acclaimed 1984 bestseller “Nefertiti Wants to Go Home,” discussed Waetzoldt’s remarks and other influential voices in even greater

deutschlandfunk.de/humboldt-forum-die-geschichte-der-objekte-ist-absolut.691.de. html?dram:article_urlid=328098 (retrieved March 15, 2020). 20 Only a few critics noticed superficial research, incorrect citation, and one-sided source analysis. See Andreas Schlothauer: Afririqua. In: Kunst & Kontext 75, July 18, 2019. 21 Stephan Waetzoldt quoted from “Eingepackt – und ab in den Louvre. Report über den Streit um Rückgabe fremder Kunstschätze.” In: Spiegel, Dec. 3, 1979, pp. 178–197, p. 190, https://www.spiegel.de/spiegel/print/d-39867543.html (retrieved March 31, 2020).

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Fig. 2: Book cover reading Nefertiti wants to go home. Europe—Treasure House of the “Third World.” Gert von Paczensky and Herbert Ganslmayr: Nofretete will nach Hause. Europa, Schatzhaus der “Dritten Welt”. Munich 1984.

detail. The authors, journalist Gert von Paczensky and ethnologist and director of the Bremen Übersee Museum Herbert Ganslmayr, make a firm plea for the restitution of looted museum collections to the countries of origin. Moreover, they address in depth the opposition in the cultural and political sectors. 22 Ganslmayr and Paczensky also address differences in the understanding and use of the term “restitution.” “In UNESCO, representatives of the former colonial powers, including the— conspicuously zealous—Federal Republic of Germany, have successfully resisted that the term ‘restitution’ passes without comment as an equivalent for the term ‘return’ of cultural property. In international legal jargon, restitution means the return of illegally and criminally acquired property. Therefore, the intergovernmental committee dealing with these issues is called [. . . ] the ‘[Committee] for the Promotion of the Return of Cultural Property to its Countries of Origin or its Restitution in the Case of Illegal Appropriation.’ The formulation leaves ample room for the claim that ‘appropriation’ in the colonial era was precisely not unlawful because the law of the strongest covered it.” 23

22 See Gert von Paczensky, Herbert Ganslmayr: Nofretete will nach Hause. Europa, Schatzhaus der “Dritten Welt.” Munich 1984. The authors comment in detail on Waetzoldt, Kussmaul (Stuttgart museum) and Haberland (Frankfurt museum); see esp. chapter 4, pp. 45–54. 23 Ibid., p. 108.

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Given Savoy’s “newly” unearthed archive finds, one has to concede that the authors of this book have already processed the relevant sources and substantiated them with concrete examples. Savoy concluded that the debate in the early 1980s was stifled, suppressed, and eventually forgotten. 24 However, if one reads Haug von Kuenheim’s panning review “Nefertiti Is Not a Case. The Idle Controversy over Cultural Treasures from the Third World,” one comes to a different conclusion. After all, Kuenheim criticizes Paczensky in the following: “He inflames a discussion, which is just becoming more matter-of-factly, according to the museum people. [. . . ] For the modern way of looking at things and measuring historical facts with the standards of our time leads straight into error.” [. . . ] “Needless to say, it corresponds to the spirit of the times to make us feel guilty, and one can foresee the day when the Greens will ask the government to send Nefertiti home.” [. . . ] “Our museum directors are sensitive to pressure. With vehemence, they defend legal positions they did not need to defend in the first place. They dig through old files to prove that the acquisitions of precious pieces from Asia, Africa, Greece, or Turkey were legal. Common law or the statute of limitations has long since repealed any possible injustice. As the jurists say, [the institutions] have gained ownership of the goods by usucaption. Facts have long since created norms. Moreover, the depredations of the colonial period are bagatelles against what is happening today.” 25

These clear-cut statements correspond to typical attitudes in cultural policy and institutional administrations at the time. Restitution to “Third World countries” was not wanted. For the time being, one had to settle for solutions on a case-by-case basis. “Many a piece has been returned to its place of origin through quiet diplomatic negotiations.” 26

4 Universities versus Museums? A Complicated Relationship Criticism of museums and their policies often comes from universities, reflecting a decades-long divide between the two institutions—and this holds true beyond Germany. University professors traditionally enjoy unquestioned authority in politics and public perception. Given their 24 See Bénédicte Savoy: Die verdrängte Debatte. In: Süddeutsche Zeitung, March 7, 2019. https://www.sueddeutsche.de/kultur/europaeische-museen-die-verdraengtedebatte-1.4352929 (retrieved March 29, 2020). 25 Haug von Kuenheim: Nofretete ist kein Fall. Der müßige Streit um die Kulturschätze aus der Dritten Welt. In: Zeit, Sept. 7, 1984, https://www.zeit.de/1984/37/nofreteteistkein-fall (retrieved March 29, 2020). 26 Ibid.

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responsibility for collections amassed by previous generations, museum directors find themselves with their backs to the wall, as Stéphane Martin, former director of the Musée du Quai Branly in Paris, expressed in a farewell interview. Commenting on the report commissioned by the French president from art historian Bénédicte Savoy and economist Felwine Sarr, he remarked: “It is surprising that [the authorities] entrusted the report to two university academics: [. . . ] Felwine Sarr and Bénédicte Savoy, two people who are no museum people. [. . . ] Their report is a cry of hatred against the very concept of the museum, an institution considered a Western invention, a quasi-criminally organized place where objects are plucked and completely denuded, where they get deprived of their magic.” 27

A place where objects get deprived of their magic? The exoticizing formulation reveals that the little more than decade-old Musée du Quai Branly—Jacques Chirac in Paris is explicitly an art museum, even if it had most of its holdings recruited from the Musée de L’Homme. 28 Once again, we find the old concern looming that the masterpieces of world art featuring “magical” charisma are to be removed from their controlled environment in Western museums and released into an uncertain future in their countries of origin, for example, in Africa. In the field of ethnology, the hiatus between museums and universities occurred at about the same time as the student protests of 1968. In large cities, it had previously been customary for scholars to occupy the museum directorate and a corresponding chair at the university in personal union. In Frankfurt on the Main, the Museum für Völkerkunde and the Frobenius Institute were run in personal union until 1966/67, and in Hamburg until 1971. At the time, the director of the Museum für Völkerkunde Hamburg gave up his position to hold the chair of the Völkerkundliches Institut at the University of Hamburg exclusively. Indeed, the move had farreaching consequences: Museums and university institutes or chairs were now under differing administrations, which in turn were sometimes under different governing parties. Ethnology at universities and museums took diverging developments and the relationship between the ethnologists at universities and those at museums deteriorated. “You go to the museum if

27 “Spoliation vs. Restitution, l’ancien patron du Quai Branly fustige le rapport SavoySarr,” Febr. 20, 2020, https://francais.rt.com/france/71431-spoliation-vs-restitutionancien-patron-quai-branly-fustige-rapport-savoy-sarr (retrieved March 25, 2020). 28 The Musée du Quai Branly—Jacques Chirac features the byname Musée des Arts et Civilisations d’Afrique, d’Asie, d’Océanie et des Amériques. Responding to pressure, the curators had abandoned the once considered byname “Musée des Arts premiers” even before the Musée du Quai Branly’s inauguration.

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you don’t want to do theory; you go to the university if you don’t want to contaminate yourself materially,” ethnologist Mark Münzel noted 20 years ago. 29 At the same time, he stressed that museums were the “classical place of ethnological science” and part of the origin of ethnology as a university discipline. He rendered imperative that research topics were not generated “under the dictates of university ethnology remote from the objects, but from the objects themselves.” 30 It was not until after 2000 that the attitude toward objects changed again, and scholars at universities began to see collectibles as important material sources. The heads of university collections submitted applications for processing their holdings to the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (i.e., German Research Foundation)—and got their requests approved. Ten years earlier, the Research Foundation’s reviewers had rejected a joint application from all German ethnological museums for funding the reappraisal of their extensive, historical photo collections on the grounds that such “standard tasks” were not grant-worthy. The proposal had included that researchers would work on collections filed at the national, federalstate, and municipal levels, compare their source geneses, and analyze the content. The importance of processing the photo collections from the colonial era was thus known but was not considered worthy of funding. 31 Since the 1970s, German universities saw a “generational change bearing highly politicized overtones.” 32 The parallel development in the expanding field of ethnology resulted in trends to critically examine the colonial era’s consequences and turn to topics like decolonization and the works of the Subaltern Studies Group. Corresponding publications, however, made it only sporadically into the daily press and left no lasting impression on the German public. 33

29 Mark Münzel in: Michael Kraus, Mark Münzel: Zur Beziehung zwischen Universität und Museum in der Ethnologie. Marburg 2000, p. 106. 30 Ibid., p. 116. 31 The previous statements rest upon personal recollections of meeting minutes and meeting attendances. 32 Dieter Haller: Die Suche nach dem Fremden. Geschichte der Ethnologie in der Bundesrepublik 1945–1990. Frankfurt on the Main 2012, pp. 236–240. 33 For example, see Deutsche Gesinnung. Dissertation review of Helmut Bley: Kolonialherrschaft und Sozialstruktur in Deutsch-Südwestafrika 1894 bis 1914. In: Spiegel, March 31, 1969, pp. 121–124, https://www.spiegel.de/spiegel/print/d-45763653.html (retrieved March 10, 2020).

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5 Cuius Regio, Eius Religio—Whose Realm, Their Religion—Respectively Cultural Policy. Ethnological Museums and Their Regional Political Dependencies In the 1970s, restitution debates also began in German ethnological museums. The directors positioned themselves in coordination with the administrations overseeing the respective publicly administered museums. And the administrations were headed by cultural politicians of the leading parties. Although museums were basically required to remain “neutral,” that is, to present themselves as “apolitical,” there was political pressure. 34 The museums in Bavaria, Baden-Württemberg, and Lower Saxony, administered by the CDU, in part jointly with the FDP, and the partly national-, partly federal-state-funded Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation in West Berlin rejected restitution in principle and may fit into the “reactionary conservative” slot. The museums in Bremen, Frankfurt, and Cologne, administered by the SPD and considered “left-wing progressive,” were more positive about demands for restitution. Hamburg was undecided. During this period, the head of one or the other museum indicated at the joint conferences of ethnological museum directors that they would have to comply with the cultural politicians in charge and adhere to their guidelines, which did not necessarily coincide with their personal assessment as ethnologists. Only in the small, “left-wing,” and SPD-governed city-state of Bremen, museum director Ganslmayr, himself a member of the SPD, could publicly admit to restitution intentions. Indeed, the situation was similar among European museums. The Scandinavian countries and the Netherlands wanted to restitute, France and Great Britain were strictly against any such move, and the rest were ambivalent. 35 Ethnological museums suffered chronically from a lack of attention, specifically from being invisible to the public. Still, this changed only when, barely two decades after the founding idea, the Humboldt Forum became visible to everyone in the form of the reconstructed Berlin City Palace. “Probably, it was the very criticism that drew attention to the political capital contained in the Dahlem collections,” observed ethnologist Karl-Heinz Kohl. 36

Not only the Berlin Ethnologisches Museum, which belongs to the State Museums overseen by the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation, but 34 See note 31. 35 Ibid. 36 Karl-Heinz Kohl: “So schnell restituieren die Preußen nicht.” In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, May 26, 2018, p. 11, https://www.faz.net/-gsa-9a7xy (retrieved March 29, 2020).

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also the ethnological museums in Frankfurt, Hamburg, Cologne, Leipzig, Munich, Stuttgart, and Bremen, some of which had changed their names, came under fire. Since their institutions’ founding, the directors of ethnological museums had not been interviewed and featured in the media as frequently as they had since Savoy stepped down from the advisory board in the summer of 2017. As the persons responsible for collections from colonial contexts, they got ascribed “colonial amnesia.” Later, critics directed such accusations also against other collection-holding institutions, which had not been the focus of the critical media before, such as history museums, art history museums, natural history museums as well as medical history museums, and university collections. Is it the right approach to choose ethnological museums and other cultural institutions as the main culprits in a debate about responsibility for the legacy of colonialism? “German politics reduces [the debate . . . ] to the realm of culture,” criticized Jürgen Zimmerer. It is “about much more: about postcolonial identities, the decolonization of the international order, and global social justice.” 37 Eventually, the 2018 coalition agreement between the SPD, CDU, and CSU stated a novum: “No future without remembrance—the basic democratic consensus in Germany includes coming to terms with the Nazi reign of terror, the SED dictatorship, and Germany’s colonial history as well as bethinking of our democratic history’s positive moments.” 38

Changes are underway when the government sees the need to include the topic high on the political agenda. However, some are still skeptical: “Apparently, even federal politics can no longer escape the debate about German colonialism. Needless to say, [such a reference] does not win elections.” 39

Thus, one still misses strong and sustainable lobby work in the political realm for discerningly reappraising colonial heritage. Even the generous funding for ethnological museums’ provenance research has worked no change so far.

37 Jürgen Zimmerer: Die Politik schweigt – das ist Verdrängung! In: Deutschlandfunk, Politisches Feuilleton, Jan. 24, 2020, https://www.deutschlandfunkkultur.de/auf arbeitung-desdeutschen-kolonialismus-die-politik.1005.de.html?dram:article_id= 468639 (retrieved March 28, 2020). 38 Koalitionsvertrag zwischen CDU, CSU und SPD, 19. Legislaturperiode, March 2018, ll. 8048 sq. 39 Anke Schwarzer: Das verdrängte Verbrechen. Plädoyer für eine Dekolonialisierung der Bundesrepublik. In: Blätter für deutsche und internationale Politik, June 2018, https:// www.blaetter.de/ausgabe/2018/juni/das-verdraengte-verbrechen (retrieved March 26, 2020).

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6 Restitution—Just a Political Decision? Institutions carry responsibility for the cultural heritage of the colonial era they administer, care for, and use—and they must meet that responsibility. When museum directors frequently voice that they depend on decisions on the superior political level, they ignore existing concrete options that museums willing to restitute have always had and have already used in the past. Politicians do not know the collections. Even when the task got completed to record all collections plus their provenance details and the data is accessible online, policymakers depend on the specialized knowledge accumulated in museums. Nevertheless, no ministry, no superior authority, and no administration refused to carry out restitution if a museum submitted the request well-justified and extensively researched. I have brought several different restitution cases to the final approval of the highest authority in this way. 40 Such initiatives have not always met with the curators’ approval; however, restitution means living up to one’s responsibility, and the decision

Fig. 3: Two masks, a human figure, and a staff are among the ten objects returned to Alaska as a result of a bilateral cooperation between the Berlin Ethnologisches Museum and the Chugach Corporation (2015–2017). Collector Adrian Jacobsen had looted the objects from cave burials in 1883. © Viola König, Berlin

40 Previously uncommon, several articles dealt with the 2017 approved restitution of objects to Alaska. For example, see Moritz Holfelder: Unser Raubgut. Eine Streitschrift zur kolonialen Debatte. Berlin 2019, pp. 85–94; Ilja Labischinski: Past, Present, and Future of the Chugach Collection in the Ethnologisches Museum Berlin. In: BaesslerArchiv N. F. 65 (2018–19), pp. 135–150.

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must be well-weighed. The director of the Museum Fünf Kontinente (i.e., Museum Five Continents) in Munich, Ute Werlich, put it this way: “For some reason, I have incredible fears about what will happen if I give something back. [. . . ] Collections are the most important resources for museums. [. . . ] Yet, it’s a paradox: these are things that don’t even belong to me and that I, at best, have to hold in safe custody. [. . . ] It’s about a change in the basic understanding of museums.” 41

Still, it is not only about art treasures and not only about returns to Africa. Europeans have contrived illicit excavations, lootings of sacred sites, and appropriation of ritual objects through pressure and bribery on every continent. And museums and archives in Europe house sources such as pictures, films, and audio recordings. Today, the content stored on these media is not self-revealing. Only bilateral cooperation between museums and partners from the societies of the descendants and joint decoding will allow for making old knowledge accessible again. Ulf Erdmann Ziegler comments: “It is too tempting to take the Washington deal as a model and sacrifice ethnology to reconcile art appreciation with political correctness before the eyes of the world. Restitution in a hurry [. . . ]. Repentance, however, is not an exercise, and restitution is not a sport. To begin with, we must learn to review colonial history and employ ethnological methods. After all, it is the ethnologists who have trained themselves for 100 years to understand the Other. Maybe we just failed to look closely enough.” 42

The vast majority of collections from the context of European colonialism will remain unclaimed. Lessons learned from the U.S. example suggest that the—often contaminated—objects can stay in the depots if they remain retrievable and accessible to their indigenous owners at all times. However, physical and digital accessibility provided by European ethnological museums is a prerequisite for consulting the objects—the former “Rettungsasylanten” (“Rescue Asylees”)—as witnesses to a complicated history that has been mono-perspectival so far. It is inevitable that all disciplines, including art history, accept the challenge of rewriting that history in the end. “Therefore, we need yet another form of restitution—one of significance that grants forgotten or ignored works of art their place in art history. Such a

41 Quoted from Holfelder (note 40), p. 118. 42 Ulf Erdmann Ziegler: Über eine Kunst des guten Gewissens in Zeiten der Gier. In: Essay und Diskurs. Bildende Kunst, Deutschlandfunk, March 3, 2019, https://www. deutschlandfunk.de/bildende-kunst-ueber-eine-kunst-des-guten-gewissens-in.1184. de.html?dram:article_id=440526 (retrieved March 29, 2020).

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process may be no less emotionally stressful and ethically demanding. To create space for new voices and visions is, after all, to question a beloved and familiar canon of art.” 43

7 Epilogue: The Humboldt Forum is fully open but unfinished. What now? Even before the opening of the second part of the Ethnological Museum’s exhibitions in September 2022, media reports portrayed both documenta 15 and the Humboldt Forum as failed major German cultural projects. At the same time, radical changes in the attitudes of those responsible for culture and politics occurred in the area of actual restitution. It is no longer just a matter of recognizing the injustice of appropriating colonial collections but also of understanding the belief, value, and world systems in the societies of the descendants that manifest themselves in many objects and fundamentally call into question the “legality” of their “preservation” in the museum. However, with the commitment to restitution comes the urgent question of the recipients, not only the “rightful” ones in the legal sense, but those according to the demands of the communities where the objects are still, or more recently, sorely missed. The situation in African countries has so far dominated the restitution debate in Germany. But in other regions of the world, for example, in Asian cultures or Latin American societies, the acquisition background is quite different. Negotiations at the level of the nation-state, a Western concept, are only of limited value in the sense of the societies of the descendants. Diverging interests and conflicting positions on all political levels, even disinterest on the part of national governments, are to be expected. Two examples from Colombia: In the past, the restitution of illegally exported archaeological artifacts and power masks failed not because of the resistance of the Berlin Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation, although it insisted on a highly official demand for return, but rather because of inaction on the part of the Colombian administration. But after all, there has been some movement here recently as well. Decades of pressure built up by the San Agustín community and the Kogi indigenous people, along with international advocates, is pushing Colombia’s new cultural administration to act. But what happens next? Will they “just end up in some bodega, or maybe at the 43 Julia Pelta Feldman: Restitution ist nicht genug. In: Zeit, July 17, 2019, https://www. zeit.de/kultur/kunst/2019-07/kolonialkunst-museen-sammlung-diversitaet-deaccessioning (retrieved March 29, 2020).

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Museo Nacional or Museo del Oro, without taking into account what local actors in the Quindío and Nariño want?” How do make officials “engage in more participative processes?” 44 It means that, contrary to what many official representatives believe, restitution does not immediately release European museums from their responsibility because the artifacts were not stolen from today’s nation-states but from individuals, families, clans, and communities. The file can be closed only when they see their claims consensually asserted, when the objects are “at home,” above or below the earth. Until its complete opening in September 2002, the Humboldt Forum was more or less the focus of public interest for twenty years. But if it is to fulfill its function as a catalyst and motor for sustained interest in coming to terms with colonial and postcolonial injustice with the binding involvement of both the German civil society and the societies of descendants, it will have to struggle with waning interest on the part of the public and against the internal signs of fatigue. Because one thing is clear, the existence of the backward baroque palace will be accepted in the long term. It was, therefore, no coincidence that at the beginning of our planning in 2008, we established “movement, change and constant transformation of the narrative position” as the leitmotif of the exhibitions. From this point of view, sustained public criticism is absolutely constructive.

44 Personal communication by Pierre Losson, Dec. 7, 2022.

IV. Legal History and Historical Culture

Sheila Heidt

Colonial Injustice, Restitution Claims, and Provenance Research

1 Introduction What exactly happened during the German colonial period in Africa? What allows for an appropriate evaluation of transfers concerning cultural objects during this time? What is the legal basis for restituting unlawfully acquired things? What are the challenges and problems looming ahead? What is the role of provenance research? All these questions and many more have occupied activists, museum curators, ethnologists, provenance researchers, members of the press, and politicians since the summer of 2017 at the latest. 1 This article, therefore, assesses the context of object-related translocations during the colonial period and thus shows why demands for restitution, for which provenance research provides a basis, are made. Firstly, a brief legal-historical outline portrays the course of German colonial rule in Africa. Then, a balanced assessment introduces possible legal bases for restitution claims and discusses old and new political developments. Finally, a concluding section marks down briefly how provenance research fits into the problems presented and outlines the approach’s potential.

1 More precisely, since Bénédicte Savoy’s resignation from the Humboldt Forum’s Expert Advisory Board. See Jörg Häntzschel: Bénédicte Savoy über das HumboldtForum: “Das Humboldt-Forum ist wie Tschernobyl.” In: Süddeutsche Zeitung, July 20, 2017.

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2 (Legal and) Historical Backgrounds Let’s first address the most urgent questions: Why is the transfer of cultural property from Africa to Germany during the colonial era, at least in large parts, problematic? What historical events and developments lead to such an assessment? The local population’s living conditions during this time become clear alone by looking at the below-outlined legal developments during Germany’s colonial rule in Africa. In everyday life, the determining factors between colonizers and colonized were social exclusion, deprivation of rights, and violent assaults. Uprisings occurred early on, and the Germans had them put down with great brutality. Consequently, the colonial power further increased the pressure to the point of the genocide of parts of the population. The cornerstone of all legal determinations in the African colonies was the division of the African continent at the so-called Berlin Conference, or Congo or West Africa Conference, by the colonial powers of Belgium, Germany, France, Great Britain, Italy, Portugal, and Spain. The resulting General Act of the Berlin Conference, ratified in the German Empire on April 8, 1885, stipulated in its Article 34 that a colonial power had to notify the other colonial powers when newly taking possession of coastal areas of the African continent “in order to enable them, if need be, to make good any claims of their own.” Under Article 35, the colonial powers recognized “the obligation to insure [sic] the establishment of authority in the regions occupied by them.” 2 As a result, there was the “rush” of colonial powers to unoccupied territories, commonly known as the “Scramble for Africa.” Only those who had been the first to assert their territorial claims on the ground got their turn. By 1914, except for Ethiopia and Liberia, Africa had thus been placed entirely under the rule of European powers. 3 From 1884 onwards, Germany held the colonies of German South West Africa (today’s Namibia), Cameroon, Togo, and German East Africa (today’s Tanzania, Burundi, and Rwanda). The formal occupation of the

2 General Act of the Berlin Conference, Febr. 26, 1885. In: Edward Hertslet, The Map of Africa by Treaty, Vol. 2. London (Her Majesty’s Stationery Office) 3rd ed.1909, No. 128, pp. 468 sq. See for the German version General-Akte der Berliner Konferenz. In: Reichsamt des Innern (Ed.): Reichs-Gesetzblatt (in the following: RGBl.) 1885, pp. 215–246. 3 See Albert A. Boahen: Africa and the Colonial Challenge. In: Albert A. Boahen (Ed.): Africa under Colonial Domination 1880–1935 (UNESCO: International Scientific Committee for the Drafting of a General History of Africa, General History of Africa, Vol. 7). London 1985, pp. 1–18, esp. p. 1.

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territories was set in motion primarily by employing “treaties,” structured either as trade agreements or political contracts. The latter ones, in particular, were designed to give the respective European power complete dominion over the country in question. 4 For this reason, these agreements, known as “treaties of protection,” cannot be considered legal, neither by today’s standards nor by those to be assumed during the colonial period. 5 At the very least, the drafting of the treaties took advantage of the inexperience of the local population concerning the German legal system and the importance of concluding contracts within that system. For this reason, there was also contemporary doubt that the protection contracts of the time were moral, and critical voices expressed that they would probably also be legally classified as immoral and thus void. 6 After all, the German Reich made sure to garner pecuniary advantages that exceeded the value of the “return service” to such an extent that there was conspicuous disproportion: the European power was given comprehensive control over the respective territory in exchange for “protection.” 7 In most cases, one can assume that the counterparts lacked vital information on the consequences of signing such a contract or its entire content. A typical example of such an agreement is the treaty concluded on December 4, 1884, between Sultan Muinin Sagara and Carl Peters, a representative of the Gesellschaft für deutsche Kolonisation (i.e., Society for German Colonization), on the territory of Usagara, today’s Tanzania. 8 Euphemistically called an “eternal treaty of friendship,” the contract promised the sultan unspecified gifts. In exchange for “protection” from Peters’ organization, the sultan ceded the Germans the exclusive right to colonize. 9 Additionally he also handed over the right to mine minerals and 4 See G. N. Uzoigwe: European Partition and Conquest of Africa. An Overview. Ibid., pp. 19–44, esp. p. 31. 5 See Gustav Noske: Kolonialpolitik und Sozialdemokratie. Stuttgart 1914, p. 16. Noske calls the designated protection contracts ill-founded and seriously jeopardized, hence “appealable.” 6 See ibid. The possibility to invalidate a contract due to “violation of moral principles” refers to § 138 of the German Civil Code in the version of the announcement of Aug. 24, 1896 (in the following: BGB). In: RGBl. 1896, p. 195–603. The wording of the currently applicable § 138 BGB corresponds to this. 7 See § 138 BGB (note 6). Noske (note 5), p. 17, described the Cameroon Protection Treaty of July 11, 1884, as a “shameful deal.” 8 For the wording of the contract, see J. Wagner: Deutsch-Ostafrika. Geschichte der Gesellschaft für deutsche Kolonisation, der Deutsch-Ostafrikanischen Gesellschaft und der Deutsch-Ostafrikanischen Plantagengesellschaft nach den maßgebenden Quellen. Berlin 2nd expanded ed. 1888, pp. 57 sq. 9 The contract contains the right to colonize as the “sole and exclusive right to bring colonists to all of Usagara.” Ibid., p. 57.

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other resources, the right to levy customs duties and taxes and to establish a legal system, an administration, and a military. 10 The official promise of protection and thus the incorporation of the “East African protectorate” came into force on February 27, 1888, by letter of protection from the German Emperor. 11 The German Empire governed its colonies primarily by introducing separate regulations for the colonized and the colonizers. In 1888, the law stated that “indigenes” should not be subject to the jurisdiction of the German Empire; 12 hence, the Germans refused to grant the local population of the colonized territories the same rights as the populace of the German Reich. From the very beginning, therefore, the legislators made a distinction between “Germans” and “non-Germans.” Indeed, the local population could not assert its interests before the courts of the German Reich. They were, therefore, powerless in the face of the colonial rulers’ violence or encroachments on their property. The colonial power recognized no judiciary before which local peoples could have asserted claims regarding the damages or injuries inflicted on them. As if it were a matter of course, the colonized population was thus deprived of any judicial review of complaints. The Germans permitted nothing more than legislative regulation for the legal settlement of disputes between local people. In Cameroon, the Germans established the first “indigenous

10 Ibid., pp. 57 sq. 11 Kaiserlicher Schutzbrief für die Gesellschaft für deutsche Kolonisation (i.e., Imperial Letter of Protection for the Society for German Colonization), Febr. 27, 1885. In: Riebow (Ed.): Die deutsche Kolonial-Gesetzgebung. Sammlung der auf die deutschen Schutzgebiete bezüglichen Gesetze, Verordnungen, Erlasse und internationalen Vereinbarungen, mit Anmerkungen und Sachregister. Auf Grund amtlicher Quellen und zum dienstlichen Gebrauch. Berlin 1893, p. 323. 12 § 2 of the Verordnung (in the following: VO) betreffend die Rechtsverhältnisse in den Schutzgebieten von Kamerun und Togo (i.e., Ordinance concerning the legal relationships in the protectorates of Cameroon and Togo). In: RGBl. 1888, pp. 211–215, p. 211; § 1 Nr. 1 of the Dienstanweisung, betreffend die Ausübung der Gerichtsbarkeit in den Schutzgebieten von Kamerun und Togo, 1888 (i.e., Service Instruction concerning the exercise of jurisdiction in the protectorates of Cameroon and Togo, 1888). In: Riebow (note 11), pp. 186–198, p. 186; § 1 of theVO betreffend die Rechtsverhältnisse in dem südwestafrikanischen Schutzgebiete, 1890 (i.e., Ordinance on legal relations in the South West African Protectorate, 1890). In: RGBl. 1890, pp. 171–174, p. 171; § 1 Nr. 1 of the Dienstanweisung betreffend die Ausübung der Gerichtsbarkeit in dem südwestafrikanischen Schutzgebiet, 1890 (i.e., Service Instruction concerning the exercise of jurisdiction in the South West African Protectorate, 1890). In: Riebow (note 11), pp. 287–298, p. 287; § 2 of the VO betreffend die Rechtsverhältnisse in Deutsch-Ostafrika, 1891 (i.e., Ordinance concerning legal relations in German East Africa, 1891). In: RGBl. 1891, pp. 1–5, p. 1; § 1 Nr. 1 of the Dienstanweisung betreffend die Ausübung der Gerichtsbarkeit in Deutsch-Ostafrika, 1891 (i.e., Service Instruction concerning the exercise of jurisdiction in German East Africa, 1891). In: Riebow (note 11), pp. 368–379, p. 368.

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arbitration tribunal” for civil cases with the Dualla peoples in 1890. 13 The revised 1892 version of the relevant ordinance stipulated: “Disputes between indigenes of the Dualla tribe [. . . ] were to be settled by the indigenous chief of the defendant,” 14 whereby for “the administration of justice [. . . ] the customs and usages in practice in the locality” 15 were to be observed. Corresponding regulations became effective in other German colonial territories between 1893 and 1897. 16 Gradually, a special law for “indigenes” developed; although, in 1891, German East Africa was issued with a different form of regulation, more firmly based on formal legalization. Jurisdiction in legal matters concerning “coloreds” was transferred to the respective district governor. 17 The governors had to base their decision-making process on “the principles of law applicable among educated peoples, common sense, and the prevalent customs and traditions of the country.” 18

In 1896, the Chancellor of the German Empire seized the undivided responsibility for “jurisdiction over the indigenes.” 19 He was the first to issue 13 See VO wegen Abänderung der VO betreffend die Einführung eines EingeborenenSchiedsgerichts für den Duallastamm, 1892 (i.e., Ordinance amending the Ordinance establishing an indigenous arbitration tribunal for the Dualla tribe, 1892). In: Riebow (note 11), pp. 251 sq. 14 § 1, ibid., p. 251. 15 § 3, ibid. 16 See Verordnungen des Kaiserlichen Gouverneurs von Kamerun über die Einführung von Eingeborenen-Schiedsgerichten für: Viktoriabezirk, 1893; Mangamba-Stamm, 1894; Dörfer am mittleren Wuri, 1895; Landschaft Bodiman, 1895; Anwohner des Sannaga, 1895; Landschaft Dibombari, 1896; Landschaft Ndokama, 1896; Landschaft Dibamba, 1896; Bakoko-Niederlassungen am untern Abo, 1896; linkes Abo-Ufer, 1896; Lungasi-Region, 1897 (i.e., Ordinaces of the Imperial Governor of Cameroon on the introduction of indigenous arbitration tribunals for the following areas: Victoria district, 1893; Mangamba tribe, 1894; villages on the middle Wouri, 1895; Bodiman countryside, 1895; Sannaga residents, 1895; Dibombari countryside, 1896; Ndokama countryside, 1896; Dibamba countryside, 1896; Bakoko settlements on the lower Aba, 1896; left bank of the Aba, 1896; “Lungasi” (lower Dibamba) region, 1897. In: Die Deutsche Kolonial-Gesetzgebung. Sammlung der auf die deutschen Schutzgebiete bezüglichen Gesetze, Verordnungen, Erlasse und internationalen Vereinbarungen, mit Anmerkungen und Sachregister, Vol. 2, ed. by Alfred Zimmermann. Berlin 1898, pp. 63 sq., 130 sq., 177 sq., 178 sq., 182 sq., 218 sq., 230 sq., 247 sq., 262 sq., and 369 sq. 17 See Auszug aus der VO des Gouverneurs von Deutsch-Ostafrika betreffend die Gerichtsbarkeit und die Polizeibefugnisse der Bezirkshauptleute, 1891 (i.e., Extract from the German East Africa Governor’s Ordinance concerning the jurisdiction and police powers of District Captains, 1891). In: Die Deutsche Kolonial-Gesetzgebung (note 16), Vol. 6, ed. by Ernst Schmidt-Dargitz, Otto M. Köbner. Berlin 1903, pp. 33 sq. 18 Article I, section 7. Ibid., p. 34. 19 See Allerhöchste VO betreffend die Gerichtsbarkeit über die Eingeborenen in den afrikanischen Schutzgebieten, 1896 (i.e., Most High Ordinance concerning the jurisdiction over the indigenes in the African Protectorates, 1896). In: Zimmermann (note 16), p. 213.

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a decree that limited efforts to “obtain confessions and statements” from “indigenes” to “measures permitted in the German codes of procedure” and prohibited the “imposition of extraordinary punishments.” 20 These orders were subsequently passed on to the respective protectorates. 21 The reason for this explicit legal regulation had been misdemeanors of senior colonial officials discussed in the Reichstag that same year. For example, incidents in Cameroon had become known. An Assessor (i.e., subordinate aspirant official) named Wehlau “had forced confessions by applying the cruelest whip punishment and by inhuman maltreatment” and “had handed prisoners over to his soldiers for execution, knowing that this execution would proceed in the cruelest manner imaginable.” 22

Wehlau was subsequently transferred and fined 500 marks. 23 Afterward, jurisdiction in criminal and disciplinary matters in German East Africa, Cameroon, and Togo was also explicitly regulated and devolved to the respective governor. 24 From then on, the governors’ penal power included officially imposing punishments on the local population; in particular corporal punishment was permitted. 25 However, “indigenes of higher social rank” were subsequently excluded. 26 By 1900, the use of “corporal punishment” had reached such a significant level that the Colonial Department of the Foreign Office felt compelled to issue a decree exhorting the officials in the colonies to take care and “only [sentence to] corporal punishment [. . . ] in those cases [. . . ], in which the severity of the offense justifies such action.” 27 20 Verfügung des Reichskanzlers betreffend die Gerichtsbarkeit über die Eingeborenen in den afrikanischen Schutzgebieten, 1896 (i.e., Decree of the Chancellor of the [German] Empire concerning jurisdiction over the indigenes in the African Protectorates, 1896). Ibid., pp. 213 sq. 21 See Gouvernementsbefehl betreffend das Gerichtsverfahren gegen Eingeborene in Deutsch-Ostafrika (i.e., Governorate Order concerning the judicial proceedings against indigenes in German East Africa). Ibid., p. 215. 22 Noske (note 5), pp. 86 sq. 23 See ibid., p. 87. 24 § 1 sentence 1 of the Verfügung des Reichskanzlers wegen Ausübung der Strafgerichtsbarkeit und der Disziplinargewalt gegenüber den Eingeborenen in den deutschen Schutzgebieten von Ostafrika, Kamerun und Togo, 1896 (i.e., Order of the Chancellor of the [German] Empire concerning the exercise of criminal jurisdiction and disciplinary authority over the native indigenes in the German Protectorates of East Africa, Cameroon, and Togo, 1896). In: Zimmermann (note 16), pp. 215–218, p. 215. 25 See § 2, ibid., p. 216. 26 Änderung der VO betreffend die Strafgerichtsbarkeit der Eingeborenen in Südwestafrika, 1896 (i.e., Amendment to the Ordinance Concerning the criminal jurisdiction of indigenes in South West Africa, 1896). Ibid., pp. 294 sq. 27 Runderlass der Kolonial-Abteilung betreffend die Strafurteile gegen Eingeborene, 1900 (Circular Decree of the Colonial Department concerning criminal sentences against

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The reasons given for the decree were the following: “The last annual reports from the African Protectorates [. . . ] [revealed] that the number of sentences passed against indigenes in the respective protectorates is woefully disproportionate to the overall number of persons de facto subjected to German rule. In particular, in almost all designated Protectorates, disciplining by corporal punishment has been adjudged in an exceedingly large number of cases; hence, it must be feared that the Reichstag and public opinion will draw unfavorable conclusions from this as to the success of German cultural work in [the German] colonies.” 28

However, the instructions went unheeded, so in 1906 it was deemed necessary to lay down legally the precise manner permitted for applying “corporal punishment.” 29 It was explicitly forbidden to “increase the duration of the chastisement by making artificial pauses between the individual blows.” The reprimand expressly included “execution of the chastisement [. . . ] is always to be interrupted as soon as blood appears.” 30 By 1907, there had still been little change in the conditions, so a reminder to comply with the legal regulations was issued one more time. 31 In Cameroon, in 1909, corporal punishment was also permitted for “chiefs,” but contrary to previous practice, colonial officials would remove them from office beforehand. 32 Beyond the jurisdiction, it seemed necessary to establish rules of conduct toward the “indigenes.” By 1895, for example, German travelers and members of trade caravans were assaulting the local population to such an extent that the governor of German East Africa, Herrmann von Wissmann,

28 29

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indigenes, 1900). In: Die Deutsche Kolonial-Gesetzgebung (note 16), Vol. 5, ed. by Alfred Zimmermann. Berlin 1901, p. 15. Ibid. Verfügung des Gouverneurs von Deutsch-Ostafrika betreffend die Ausübung der Strafgerichtsbarkeit gegen Eingeborene, 1906 (i.e., Order of the Governor of German East Africa concerning the exercise of criminal jurisdiction against indigenes, 1906). In: Die deutsche Kolonial-Gesetzgebung (note 16), Vol. 10, ed. by Otto M. Köbner, Johannes Gerstmeyer. Berlin 1907, pp. 274 sq. §§ 5, 6 of the 1906 Order. Ibid., p. 274. See Erlass des Staatssekretärs des Reichs-Kolonialamts an die Gouverneure der afrikanischen Schutzgebiete zur Verfügung betreffend die Anwendung körperlicher Züchtigung als Strafmittel, 1907 (i.e., Decree of the head civil servant of the Colonial Office of the [German] Empire to the Governors of the African Protectorates concerning the use of corporal punishment as a means of punishment, 1907). In: Die deutsche Kolonial-Gesetzgebung (note 16), Vol. 11, ed. by Otto M. Köbner, Johannes Gerstmeyer. Berlin 1908, pp. 323 sq. See Runderlass des Gouverneurs von Kamerun, betreffend Verhängung der Prügelstrafe gegen Häuptlinge, 1909 (i.e., Circular Decree of the Governor of Cameroon concerning the imposition of corporal punishment on chiefs, 1909). In: Die deutsche KolonialGesetzgebung (note 16), Vol. 13, ed. by Otto M. Köbner, Johannes Gerstmeyer. Berlin 1910, p. 498.

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felt compelled to issue an order to stop or prosecute them. 33 By 1907, the rise in cases of assaults on local underage employees had the authorities to give the following official ban: “Admission of underage female indigenes, whether as servants or in any other capacity, into the households of unmarried European officials or other governorate employees” is prohibited. 34

As a further instrument for dominating the local population, forced labor was institutionalized, initiated by another legal trick: To help finance the catering of the German personnel, a “render” was raised “as a sort of protection money.” 35 In 1897, the colonial authorities imposed for the first time a “tax on houses and huts,” payable in money but also in an equivalent: hours of forced labor. 36 The authorities set the alternative option deliberately, as the intention was to “teach the colored population to do [serious] work.” 37 It was premeditated that the local population would not succeed in earning colonial money to pay the tax. The following activities were eligible for settling tax liabilities: “labor at the military station, porter service for service loads, building houses, huts, and roads, [. . . ] services on expeditions, [. . . ] construction work, new construction.” 38

However, abuses of tax collection quickly occurred due to the levying of a head tax instead of a hut tax and the failure to take into account 33 See Gouvernementsbefehl betreffend das Verhalten der Karawanen in DeutschOstafrika, 1895 (i.e., Governorate Order concerning the conduct of caravans in German East Africa, 1895). In: Zimmermann (note 16), p. 185. 34 Runderlass des Auswärtigen Amts, Kolonial-Abteilung, betreffend Verbot des Haltens unerwachsener weiblicher Eingeborener als Dienerinnen seitens der Gouvernementsangestellten, 1907 (i.e., Circular Decree of the Foreign Office, Colonial Department, concerning the prohibition of the keeping of underage female indigenes as servants by government employees, 1907). In: Köbner, Gerstmeyer (note 31), pp. 57 sq. 35 Runderlass des Gouverneurs von Deutsch-Ostafrika betreffend Erhebung einer Naturalabgabe, 1893 (i.e., Circular Decree of the Governor of German East Africa concerning the levying of a tax in natural products, 1893). In: Zimmermann (note 16), p. 53. 36 § 11 d of the VO betreffend die Erhebung einer Häuser- und Hüttensteuer in DeutschOstafrika, 1897 (i.e., Ordinance on the levying of a house and hut tax in German East Africa, 1897). Ibid., pp. 368 sq. 37 Runderlass des Kaiserlichen Gouverneurs von Deutsch-Ostafrika an sämtliche Innenstationen betr. die Hüttensteuer, 1899 (i.e., Circular of the Imperial Governor of German East Africa to all internal stations concerning the hut tax, 1899). In: Die Deutsche Kolonial-Gesetzgebung (note 16), Vol. 4, ed. by Alfred Zimmermann. Berlin 1900, p. 94. 38 Point 3 b)–d) of the Runderlass des Gouverneurs von Deutsch-Ostafrika betreffend Verrechnung der Häuser- und Hüttensteuer in den Militärbezirken, 1901 (i.e., Circular Decree of the Governor of German East Africa on offsetting the house and hut tax in military districts, 1901). In: Schmidt-Dargitz, Köbner (note 17), pp. 352 sq.

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any occurring circumstances, e.g., famines, etc. 39 Gustav Noske, then a member of the Reichstag for the SPD, stated in this regard in his 1914 publication Colonial Policy and Social Democracy: “Slavery still exists in the three colonies of East Africa, Cameroon, and Togo. However, whites are not allowed to buy and sell people. Nevertheless, until recently, the indigenes were treated as mere things by white master-men to whom modern wage slavery is not enough.” 40

Noske meant by “modern wage slavery,” among other things, the typical colonial labor relations: “Written contracts [. . . ] concluded only two weeks after the arrival of the workers,” and “if the contracts were neglected, [. . . ] corporal punishment” was applied as a draconian penalty without having been ordered by a court. 41 The law restricted the “laborers’” freedom of movement, and they were forced “to use the wages paid to meet their necessities of life from the employer, who then not only earned from the labor of the indigenes but could put the wages back in his pocket as profit on the sale of the goods.” 42

Finally, the “laborer” could not easily extricate himself from his situation. He could “only be disbanded if the entrepreneur grossly neglected his obligations, and [. . . ] if gross maltreatment had been committed against him,” whereby “a small beating [. . . ] could not be considered a reason for dissolving the employment relationship.” 43

The collection of head taxes was later allowed by law 44 and eventually levied on plantation workers as well. 45 For Cameroon, the authorities later renamed the head tax into housing tax, which, unlike the head tax, could

39 Runderlass des Gouverneurs von Deutsch-Ostafrika betreffend die Erhebung der Häuser- und Hüttensteuer, 1901 (i.e., Circular Decree of the Governor of German East Africa on collecting the house and hut tax, 1901). Ibid., pp. 402 sq. 40 Noske (note 5), p. 174. 41 Deutscher Reichstag: Zweite Beratung des Entwurfs eines Gesetzes betreffend die Feststellung des Haushaltsetats für die Schutzgebiete auf das Rechnungsjahr 1910. Berlin 1910, sections (B) and (C), p. 954. 42 Section (D), ibid. 43 Section (A), ibid., p. 955. 44 See VO des Gouverneurs von Kamerun betreffend Erhebung einer Kopfsteuer im Verwaltungsbezirk Duala, 1903 (i.e., Ordinance of the Governor of Cameroon concerning the levying of a head tax in the administrative district of Duala, 1903). In: Die Deutsche Kolonial-Gesetzgebung (note 16), Vol. 7, ed by Ernst Schmidt-Dargitz, Otto M. Köbner. Berlin 1904, pp. 113 sq. 45 See § 15 of the VO des Gouverneurs von Deutsch-Ostafrika betreffend Erhebung einer Häuser- und Hüttensteuer, 1905. In: Die Deutsche Kolonial-Gesetzgebung (note 16), Vol. 9, ed by Ernst Schmidt-Dargitz, Otto M. Köbner. Berlin 1906, pp. 93–96, p. 94.

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not alternatively be settled in kind (i.e., in natural products as money equaling substitute) but again in labor. 46 In Togo, a similar regulation applied, but payments in kind were permitted. 47 The colonial rule allowed for compulsory work assignments of the local population also in other ways. In 1905, for example, the law stipulated that “indigenes” had to do “public work” free of charge, such as road construction and street cleaning. 48 There was no duty to provision the laborers and if one refused to work, compliance could be enforced. 49 The primary purpose of this work was to compensate for “uncollectible hut tax payments.” Those who had no tax debts were exempt from forced labor. 50 Institutionalized forced labor had a negative economic impact and consequences on people’s residence status. People’s obligation to carry out work allowed the colonial power to restrict the “indigenes’” freedom of movement. The German Empire went so far as to establish “reservations” in German South West Africa in 1889. 51 The local population lost the right to move about freely or choose a place of residence. In 1907, more farreaching regulations aiming to control the “indigenes” came about. The authorities restricted people’s rights to purchase land, limited the number of people allowed to settle in one place, specified places of settlement, and imposed curfews. 52 They introduced the obligation to have a passport and set the regulation that “indigenes” had to wear a passport tag visibly 46 See §§ 9, 11 of the VO des Gouverneurs von Kamerun betreffend die Erhebung einer Wohnungssteuer im Schutzgebiet Kamerun, 1907 (i.e., Governor of Cameroon’s Ordinance concerning the imposition of a housing tax in the Protectorate of Cameroon, 1907). In: Köbner, Gerstmeyer (note 31), pp. 223–225, pp. 224 sq. 47 See § 2 of the VO des Gouverneurs von Togo betreffend die Heranziehung der Eingeborenen zu Steuerleistungen, 1907 (i.e., Ordinance of the Governor of Togo concerning calling on the indigenes to pay taxes, 1907). Ibid., pp. 375 sq., p. 375. 48 § 1 of the VO des Gouverneurs von Deutsch-Ostafrika betreffend Heranziehung der Eingeborenen zu öffentlichen Arbeiten, 1905 (i.e., Ordinance of the Governor of German East Africa concerning the use of indigenes for public work, 1905). In: Schmidt-Dargitz, Köbner (note 45), pp. 106–108, p. 106. 49 See §§ 7, 9, ibid., pp. 107 sq. 50 §§ 3, 6, ibid.; Instruktion zur Ausführung der VO betreffend die Heranziehung der Eingeborenen zu öffentlichen Arbeiten, 1905 (i.e., Specification for the implementation of the Ordinance concerning the use of indigenes for public work, 1905). In: SchmidtDargitz, Köbner (note 45), pp. 108 sq. 51 See Allerhöchste VO betreffend die Schaffung von Eingeborenen-Reservaten in dem südwestafrikanischen Schutzgebiete, 1898 (i.e., Most High Decree on establishing reservations for indigenes in the South West African Protectorate, 1898. In: Zimmermann (note 16), p. 26. 52 See §§ 1, 7–8 of the VO des Gouverneurs von Deutsch-Südwestafrika betreffend Maßregeln zur Kontrolle der Eingeborenen, 1907 (i.e., Ordinance of the Governor of German South West Africa concerning the regulations for the control of the indigenes, 1907). In: Die deutsche Kolonial-Gesetzgebung (note 16), Vol. 11, ed by Otto M. Köbner, Johannes Gerstmeyer. Berlin 1908, pp. 345–347, p. 346.

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and show it to any white person on demand. 53 If “indigenes” refused to comply with this regulation, any white person could hand them over to the authorities for punishment. 54 Finally, the local population was forced to have all legal transactions (e.g., purchase, exchange, or donation) notarized by the colonial administration. 55 To impose an inheritance tax, estates had to be reported, even if there were no relatives. 56 Heirs were determined according to the regulations of the colonized peoples. 57 Against the backdrop of these legal encroachments and restrictions and thereby generated injustice and oppression, it wasn’t long before resistance arose in the colonies. In order to counter rebellion against the aforementioned imposed circumstances, the Germans installed a “Schutztruppe” (i.e., Protection Force) whose declared task was to ensure the “maintenance of public order and security” in 1891 in German East Africa. 58 In 1895, these troops were also deployed in German South West Africa and Cameroon by means of a separate law 59 before overarching regulations for the Protection Force in the German colonial territories were adopted in 1896. 60 In 1902/1903, the Protection Force operated in German East Africa and Cameroon on several instances, which were soon no longer classified

53 See §§ 2, 10 of the VO des Gouverneurs von Deutsch-Südwestafrika betreffend die Passpflicht der Eingeborenen, 1907 (i.e., Ordinance of the Governor of German South West Africa concerning obligatory identification for indigenes, 1907). Ibid., pp. 347– 350, p. 348. 54 See § 16, ibid., p. 349. 55 See § 2 of the Runderlass des Gouverneurs betreffend die Errichtung von Rechtsgeschäften Farbiger in Deutsch-Ostafrika, 1893 (i.e., Governor’s Circular Decree on establishing legal transactions by colored persons in German East Africa, 1893). In: Zimmermann (note 16), pp. 39–41, p. 40. 56 See § 1 sentence 2 of the VO betreffend die Erhebung einer Erbschaftssteuer und die Regelung von Nachlässen Farbiger in Deutsch-Ostafrika, 1893 (i.e., Ordinance concerning the levying of an inheritance tax and the regulation of the estates of colored persons in German East Africa, 1893). Ibid., pp. 46 sq., p. 47. 57 See commencement clause, ibid., p. 46. 58 § 1 of the Gesetz betreffend die Kaiserliche Schutztruppe für Deutsch-Ostafrika, 1891 (i.e., Act concerning the Imperial Protective Force for German East Africa, 1891). In: RGBl. 1891, pp. 53–57, p. 53. 59 See Allerhöchste VO betreffend Verwendung von Schutztruppen in Südwestafrika und Kamerun, 1895. (i.e., Most High Decree concerning the Protection Forces on active service in South West Africa and Cameroon, 1895). In: Zimmermann (note 16), pp. 160 sq. 60 See Gesetz wegen Abänderung des Gesetzes v. 22. 3. 1891 (RGBl. p. 53) betreffend die Kaiserliche Schutztruppe für Deutsch-Ostafrika und des Gesetzes v. 9. 6. 1895 (RGBl. p. 258) betreffend die Kaiserlichen Schutztruppen für Südwestafrika und für Kamerun, 1896 (i.e., Law amending the Law of 22 March 1891 on the Imperial Protection Force for German East Africa and the Law of 9 June 1895 on the Imperial Protection Forces for South West Africa and Cameroon, 1896). Ibid., pp. 249–251.

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merely as “unrest” but as wartime incidents. 61 The same procedure followed the uprisings in German South West Africa in 1903/1904. 62 June 11, 1904, marked the official declaration that German South West Africa was in a “state of war.” 63 The relevant regulations included the following: “Any commanding officer [. . . ] [was] authorized to have colored nationals shot or hanged without prior judicial proceedings according to the previous custom of war when they were caught in the act of treasonable acts against German troops, e.g., all rebels caught under arms with warlike intent.” 64

After the Battle of Waterberg in August 1904, the troops persecuted the Herero based on von Trotha’s so-called Extermination Order of October 2, 1904. The order stated: “Within the German borders, every Herero with or without a rifle, with or without cattle, will be shot. I will take in no more women or children [but] drive them back to their people or have them shot.” 65

Lieutenant-General Lothar von Trotha ordered the first genocide of the 20th century by this. After lifting the Extermination Order, the colonial administration set up “assembly points” for the surviving Herero. They were officially declared prisoners of war and forced to work during their incarceration. 66 In December 1905, the assets of the Herero involved in the war were officially confiscated. 67 The Hereros’ “prisoner of war” status was

61 Allerhöchste Ordre betreffend Anrechnung eines Kriegsjahres, 1904 (i.e., Most High Decree concerning the accounting of a year of war, 1904). In: Die Deutsche KolonialGesetzgebung (note 16), Vol. 8, ed. by Ernst Schmidt-Dargitz, Otto M. Köbner. Berlin 1905, pp. 216 sq. 62 See Allerhöchste Ordre betreffend Anrechnung von Kriegsjahren, 1904 (i.e., Most High Decree concerning the accounting of several years of war, 1904). Ibid., p. 232. 63 Point I of the Auszug aus den Kriegszustands-Bestimmungen und Erlassen des Kommandeurs der Schutztruppen für Deutsch-Südwestafrika (i.e., Extract from the Regulations and Decrees on War Conditions of the Commander of the Protection Forces of German South West Africa). Ibid., p. 124–131, p. 124. 64 Section 7, ibid., p. 125. 65 Quoted from Michael Behnen: Quellen zur deutschen Außenpolitik im Zeitalter des Imperialismus, 1890–1911 (Ausgewählte Quellen zur deutschen Geschichte der Neuzeit, Vol. 26). Darmstadt 1977, p. 291. 66 See Bericht des Gouverneurs [Friedrich von] Lindequist über die kriegsgefangenen Eingeborenen (i.e., Governor [Friedrich von] Lindequist’s report on the indigenes taken prisoner of war). In: Kolonial-Abteilung des Auswärtigen Amts (Ed.): Deutsches Kolonialblatt. Amtsblatt für die Schutzgebiete in Afrika und in der Südsee 17 (1906) No. 12, p. 402. See additionally Jürgen Zimmerer: Krieg, KZ und Völkermord in Südwestafrika. Der erste deutsche Genozid. In: Jürgen Zimmerer, Joachim Zeller (Eds.): Völkermord in Deutsch-Südwestafrika. Der Kolonialkrieg (1904–1908) in Namibia und seine Folgen. Berlin 2nd ed. 2004, pp. 45–63, p. 56. 67 See Kaiserliche VO betreffend die Einziehung von Vermögen Eingeborener im südwestafrikanischen Schutzgebiet, 1905 (i.e., Imperial Ordinance concerning the confisca-

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revoked on April 1, 1908. 68 Prior to that, between 1904 and 1907, 7,682 prisoners had died. 69 In Germany, the genocide against the Herero was officially recognized as such for the first time in 2015. 70 Subsequent to the German Empire’s defeat in World War I, the Treaty of Versailles deprived Germany of its colonies on July 16, 1919. 71 Germany renounced “in favor of the Principal Allied and Associated Powers all its rights and claims in respect of its overseas possessions.” 72 The treaty entrusted the German colonies to mandated states and specified how the takeover would take effect. 73 The contract conditions divided German East Africa between Belgium (Burundi and Rwanda), Great Britain (Tanganyika), and Portugal (Mozambique). 74 The Union of South Africa would administrate German South West Africa. 75 Great Britain and France divided Cameroon and Togo among themselves. 76

68

69 70

71 72 73 74 75 76

tion of property of indigenes in the South West African Protectorate). In: Deutsches Kolonialblatt (note 66) No. 1, pp. 1 sq. Auszug aus den Verfügungen des Gouverneurs von Deutsch-Südwestafrika betreffend Aufhebung der Kriegsgefangenschaft der Hereros, 18.1. und 26. 3. 1908 (i.e., Extract from the Orders of the Governor of German South West Africa concerning the abolishment of the war imprisonment of the Herero, Jan. 18 and March 26, 1908). In: Die deutsche Kolonial-Gesetzgebung (note 16), Vol. 12, ed. by Otto M. Köbner, Johannes Gerstmeyer. Berlin 1909, p. 38. Zimmerer (note 66), p. 58. See Antwort der Bundesregierung auf die Kleine Anfrage der Abgeordneten Niema Movassat, Wolfgang Gehrcke, Christine Buchholz, weiterer Abgeordneter und der Fraktion Die Linke, Drucksache 18/8859: Sachstand der Verhandlungen zum Versöhnungsprozess mit Namibia und zur Aufarbeitung des Völkermordes an den Herero und Nama, July 11, 2016, http://dip21.bundestag.de/dip21/btd/18/091/1809152.pdf (retrieved Oct. 14, 2019), p. 2. Silke Seybold claims the recognition of the genocide was anterior. See Silke Seybold: Die Darstellung Afrikas im Museum. Historische Einblicke am Beispiel Bremens. In: Elisabeth Dulko et. al. (Eds.): Afrikabilder. Dokumentation einer Tagungsreihe zum Afrika-Diskurs in den Medien und zum Alltagsrassismus in Deutschland. Bremen 2013, pp. 14–16, p. 15. See Gesetz über den Friedensschluss zwischen Deutschland und den alliierten und assoziierten Mächten (Versailler Vertrag), 1919. In: RGBl. 1919, pp. 687–1349. Article 119. Ibid., p. 895. (English version: “Germany renounces in favour of the Principal Allied and Associated Powers all her rights and titles over her oversea possessions.”) See Article 22. Ibid., pp. 740 sq. See Horst Gründer: Geschichte der deutschen Kolonien. Paderborn 6th ed. 2012, p. 192. See ibid., p. 139. See ibid., p. 153.

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3 Returns—Legal Basis and Challenges The legal history of Germany’s colonial rule in Africa, briefly presented above, shows without a doubt that massive pressure was exerted on the local population and that violent attacks were part of everyday life. However, I have not discussed the laws and developments exhaustively; one could easily expand the account. A systematic study of colonial legislation with a view to the escalation of the colonial authorities’ exercise of power would therefore be an essential step toward Germany’s coming to terms with its colonial past. Against the background of the events described above, it seems evident that equal and free trade in cultural goods during colonial rule in Africa was not standard but rather an exception. Unfortunately, making more differentiated statements based on the currently limited research results is impossible. It is a rare achievement when researchers glean complete reconstructions of object histories. The bronze works stolen from the Kingdom of Benin in 1897 are a prime example of this since photographs have documented the theft. 77 Apart from these exceptional cases, however, one can only estimate how likely a change of ownership on equal terms would have been. Factors such as the proximity to relevant historical events, disadvantageous laws in force at the place in question, or even the involvement of notorious individuals can help to make such estimates. The more relevant factors come together, the less likely it appears that owners of cultural objects had released the assets of their free will or as part of a well-balanced interaction. Consequently, if certain factors coincide or accumulate, one would deem the offer to return the respective object obligatory. If the events of the colonial period hadn’t happened, the objects in question would not have come to Europe. There is a direct causality here, which is why there are considerable doubts about the legal and ethical correctness of translocation during this period. Research has to detail the circumstances diligently since it cannot be in Germany’s interest to allow the continuance of injustices established during the colonial period. The logic in this train of thought should be self-evident in a time of societal awareness and recognition of historical events that led to systematic injustice and, as a result, systematic art theft. However, those affected (individuals, population groups, and nations in Africa) still do not have the means to reclaim the cultural assets that were lost to them

77 Wikimedia Commons features two revealing photographs in the article “Benin Expedition of 1897.” The pictures are in the public domain. See Osarhieme Osadolor’s contribution to this volume.

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and thus neither obtain recognition of the historical injustice nor are they able to reappraise their history. The discussion on returning foreign-country objects that had arrived in museums under questionable circumstances is not new. The beginning of the 20th century already saw a controversial debate on the issue. However, the debaters finally settled on turning down the generalized proposition of restitution, as the view prevailed that objects, once removed from their original context, could no longer find their way back into it. Therefore the contemporaries deemed returning them would be pointless. 78 Additionally, they emphasized that non-European objects were to be regarded as ambassadors of other cultures; in other words, the objects would advertise for these other cultures; hence, it would be counterproductive to change the current status. 79 More than fifty years later, there was a renewed discourse on the issue of restituting cultural objects from colonial contexts. Following the independence of the former colonies, the subject was officially revisited at an international level. In 1979, the Director-General of UNESCO, AmadouMahtar M’Bow, demanded in his Plea for the Return of an Irreplaceable Cultural Heritage to Those Who Created It: “I solemnly call upon the governments of the Organization’s Member States to conclude bilateral agreements for the return of cultural property to the countries from which it has been taken; to promote long-term loans, deposits, sales, and donations between institutions concerned in order to encourage a fairer international exchange of cultural property [. . . ].” 80

Initial measures were agreed upon at the beginning of the 1980s. Primarily, inventories were to be established, showing which objects were still located in their countries of origin or housed abroad and the current status of the museums’ infrastructure. 81

78 See Wilhelm R. Valentiner: Nationales oder internationales Museum? (1919). In: Kristina Kratz-Kessemeier, Andrea Meyer, Bénédicte Savoy (Eds.): Museumsgeschichte. Kommentierte Quellentexte, 1750–1950. Berlin 2010, pp. 247–251, pp. 247 sq. 79 See ibid., p. 248. 80 Amadou-Mahtar M’Bow: A Plea for the Return of an Irreplaceable Cultural Heritage to Those Who Created It. In: United Nations Education Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) (Ed.): Return and Restitution of Cultural Property. In: Museum 31 (1979) No. 1, p. 58. 81 See Intergovernmental Committee for Promoting the Return of Cultural Property to its Countries of Origin or its Restitution in Case of Illicit Appropriation. Return and Restitution of Cultural Property—a Brief Résumé (UNESO-Doc CLT/CH/4.82). Paris 1982, p. 4.

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The late 1980s saw a renewal of the call for inventories, 82 explicitly pointing out that these inventories should also include those objects in depots. 83 Nevertheless, European museums’ efforts to initiate inventories of their holdings or the return of collectibles from colonial contexts were minimal. By the early 2000s, UNESCO’s initiative and demands had almost fallen into oblivion. The amnesia went so far that various international museums signed the Declaration on the Importance and Value of Universal Museums. When criticized for their negative stance on restitution, the signees countered that it would be imperative to refer to the historical circumstances when assessing the change of ownership. Judging the past based on today’s views was deemed inappropriate. Finally, museum representatives declared: “Over time, objects so acquired [. . . ] have become part of the museums that have cared for them, and by extension part of the heritage of the nations which house them.” Moreover, the items owed their current distinct status to the museums that showcased them. 84 In addition to the points already presented, the proponents of universal museums are likely to put forward the following arguments against the implementation of restitution: The objects would not be generally accessible when returned to the countries of origin. The countries could not guarantee the conservation and security of the objects. Additionally, there would be no legal protection for the objects. Finally, it would be unclear who may be entitled unequivocally to state a claim. 85 However, we must separate these repeatedly raised issues from the question of whether there is an unqualified acceptance of the responsibility for historical injustice by the former colonial powers. And it is this question that primarily needs an answer. Museological and logistical problems in connection with the restitution of looted art do not exempt from facing this question’s challenge and must undoubtedly take a backseat. First and foremost, it is up to the museums, their legal entities, and the German government to decide whether museums are trustees or owners of the

82 See United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), General Conference: Report by the Intergovernmental Committee for Promoting the Return of Cultural Property to its Countries of Origin or its Restitution in Case of Illicit Appropriation (UNESCO-Doc. 24 C / 94). Paris 1987, appendix, p. 1. 83 See ibid., appendix, p. 2, section 7 a. 84 Declaration on the Importance and Value of Universal Museums, Dec. 2002. In: ICOM News Magazine 57 (2004) No. 1, p. 4, https://translanth.hypotheses.org/ueber/ universal-museums (retrieved Oct. 14, 2019). 85 See UNESCO (note 82), p. 3; Viola König: Am rechten Platz? Materielles und immaterielles Kulturerbe aus außereuropäischen Kulturen in europäischen Museen. In: Museumskunde 73 (2008) No. 1, pp. 65–73, p. 65.

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objects in question. For those who see themselves as trustees, the question is not if they should carry through on restitution but how. Taking a trustee position would be tantamount to recognizing another’s ownership position. The complicacy of determining the exact ownership—frequently cited as a final argument for refusing restitution—does not change this. It shall not be evaluated according to western legal understanding who is to be considered the last legal owner before the translocation from Africa. The historical and current legal and social regulations in the former colonies must be taken into account in order to determine which person, group of persons, community, or nation is entitled to assert a claim. The Western understanding of legal succession or property rights may not serve as a rule. It is up to the population living in the former colonies to decide who is entitled to the ownership of the objects in question. Subsequently, the claimant determined in this process must be recognized unrestrictedly as the rightful owner. Not long ago, the already-mentioned fears linked to restitutions toward former colonies reemerged. They are reflected in the questions posed on July 5, 2018, in the AfD’s Grand Interpellation directed at the German government. 86 When it comes to publicly demanded changes in the orientation of ethnological museums, some warn of the danger that “the catchphrase of ‘decolonizing ethnological museums’ opens a gateway for their ideological exploitation, since postcolonial theory formation also includes, in particular, Marxist approaches.” 87

The Greens’ Minor Interpellation of September 7, 2018, also took up the contentious issue of returning cultural property to former colonies. 88 Specifically, they asked about the German government’s plans to tie “certain given conservation conditions in the countries of origin to [possible favorable] decisions on returning cultural assets.” 89 In its response of October 18, 2018, the German government stated that “the decision on the return of cultural property from colonial contexts and the manner of doing so [. . . ] lies with the respective institution housing the collection from colonial contexts and the institution’s sponsor.” 90

86 See Parliamentary Group Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) et al.: Große Anfrage. Aufarbeitung der Provenienzen von Kulturgut aus kolonialem Erbe in Museen und Sammlungen. Berlin 2018. 87 Ibid., p. 1. 88 See Parliamentary Group Bündnis 90/Die Grünen et al.: Kleine Anfrage. Kulturpolitische Aufarbeitung der deutschen Kolonialzeit. Berlin 2018. 89 Ibid., p. 5. 90 Antwort der Bundesregierung auf die Kleine Anfrage der Abgeordneten Dr. Kirsten Kappert-Gonther, Erhard Grundl, Margit Stumpp, weiterer Abgeordneter und der

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To date, there are no generally recognized procedures for effecting the restitution of objects from colonial contexts. Unlike in the field of Nazi looted art, there is, in particular, no general or self-imposed obligation to return, respectively find a just and fair solution, or negotiate with claimants or potential holders of restitution claims. Since the theoretically relevant regulations, already existing in large numbers, do not apply, developing a corresponding soft law is long overdue. The wronged parties are without rights until today. Already the first legal regulations for cultural property protection did not consider translocations during the colonial era. Indeed, both the 1899 Hague Convention on War on Land and the 1907 version prohibited the looting of and the confiscation of artworks. 91 However, the Convention only applies between the contracting parties, i.e., not between the colonies’ local population and the colonizers. And this, although the colonial power officially recognized the operations of the Protection Force as wartime. 92 Similarly, the Hague Convention of 1954 93 and its second protocol of 1999 missed the point. 94 Moreover, the Convention lacks the retroactive validity that would have allowed for applying it to incidents that happened in the respective countries before its ratification, in the case of Germany 1967 and 2009, respectively. The problem of non-retroactivity also pertains to the 1970 UNESCO Convention. 95 Germany did not even sign the UNIDROIT Convention of 1995. 96 Notwithstanding, proven original owners can assert a claim for restitution under the German Civil Code. 97

91 92 93 94 95

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Fraktion Bündnis 90/Die Grünen, Drucksache 19/4177: Kulturpolitische Aufarbeitung der deutschen Kolonialzeit, Oct. 18, 2018, https://dip21.bundestag.de/dip21/btd/19/ 051/1905130.pdf (retrieved Oct. 19, 2019), p. 13. See article 56 in both versions. The Hague conventions and declarations of 1899 and 1907, ed. by James Brown Scott Contains. New York, Oxford 1915. See note 62, pp. 216 sq.; note 63, p. 232. See https://www.unesco.org/en/legal-affairs/convention-protection-cultural-prop erty-event-armed-conflict-regulations-execution-convention (retrieved Dec. 2, 2022). See https://www.unesco.org/en/legal-affairs/protocol-convention-protection-cul tural-property-event-armed-conflict?hub=66535 (retrieved Dec. 2, 2022). See Art. 2 section 1 of the Gesetz zu dem Übereinkommen vom 14. 11. 1970 über Maßnahmen zum Verbot und zur Verhütung der rechtswidrigen Einfuhr, Ausfuhr und Übereignung von Kulturgut (i.e., Law on the Convention of Nov. 14, 1970, on the means of prohibiting and preventing the illicit import, export and transfer of ownership of cultural property). In: Bundesgesetzblatt (in the following: BGBl.) 2007 II, pp. 626–637. See International Institute for the Unification of Private Law (UNIDROIT): Convention on Stolen or Illegally Exported Cultural Objects, June 24, 1995, https://www.unidroit.org/english/conventions/1995culturalproperty/1995cultural property-e.pdf (retrieved Jan. 20, 2020). See Bürgerliches Gesetzbuch (BGB). In: BGBl. 2002 I, p. 2909; BGBl. 2003 I, p. 783.

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Yet, they must file the claim within 30 years. As far as the German colonies are concerned, the statute of limitations effective from July 15, 1949, at the latest, would have barred all claims. 98 In Germany, even voluntary, nonbinding arrangements in restituting unlawfully acquired cultural property are also out of the question. The established governmental Guidelines 99 apply exclusively to Nazi-looted objects seized between 1933 and 1945 or confiscated during the Soviet occupation. Mediation by the Intergovernmental Committee to Promote the Return of Illegally Acquired Cultural Property to their Countries of Origin offers an alternative on the international level. 100 The stated goal here is “[to seek] ways and means of facilitating bilateral negotiations for the restitution or return of cultural property.” 101

However, the obligation to provide evidence and documentation for claims rests with the claiming party. 102 In their report commissioned by French President Emmanuel Macron, 103 Felwine Sarr and Bénédicte Savoy make concrete proposals for dealing with objects from colonial contexts and respective restitutions. For example, they call for the restitution of objects obtained by force or under presumably unfair circumstances as part of military measures, regardless of whether the items entered museums directly or through the art trade, via military personnel or colonial officials, as part of specific expeditions before 1960, or museums had them transported on loan from the country of origin and never returned them. 104 However, the report does not affect 98 Thirty years after the loss of the colonies as of July 16, 1919. 99 See Die Beauftragte der Bundesregierung für Kultur und Medien (Ed.): Handreichung zur Umsetzung der “Erklärung der Bundesregierung, der Länder und der kommunalen Spitzenverbände zur Auffindung und zur Rückgabe NS-verfolgungsbedingt entzogenen Kulturgutes, insbesondere aus jüdischem Besitz,“ Dec. 1999. Frankfurt on the Main 2019. 100 See Rules of Procedure on Mediation and Conciliation in Accordance with Article 4, Paragraph 1, of the Statutes of the Intergovernmental Committee for Promoting the Return of Cultural Property to its Countries of Origin or its Restitution in Case of Illicit Appropriation (UNESCO-Doc CLT-2010/CONF.203/COM.16/7), Oct. 2019, http://unesdoc.unesco.org/images/0019/001925/192534E.pdf (retrieved Febr. 20, 2020). 101 Statutes of the Intergovernmental Committee for Promoting the Return of Cultural Property to its Countries of Origin or its Restitution in case of Illicit Appropriation (UNESCO-Doc MISC.2006/CLT/CH/1, CLT/CH/INS-2005/21), Nov. 28, 1978, https://unesdoc.unesco.org/ark:/48223/pf0000145960 (retrieved Dec. 2, 2022), art. 4, section 1. 102 See ibid., art. 9, section 1. 103 See Felwine Sarr, Bénédicte Savoy: The Restitution of African Cultural Heritage. Toward a New Relational Ethics. Paris (Nov.) 2018, http://restitutionreport2018. com/sarr_savoy_en.pdf (retrieved Dec. 1, 2018). 104 See ibid., p. 61.

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Germany’s handling of such objects so far. Germany has not announced that it will adopt the report’s proposals. Currently, we see no vigorous efforts to develop generally applicable procedures or regulations; instead, there are various attempts on the political side to find individual solutions to the problem that the assertion of claims for restitution still lacks a legal basis. In the fall of 2018, Theresia Bauer, the Green Minister of Science in Baden-Württemberg, introduced proposals to amend budgetary law to enable the restitution of Nazi-looted objects and objects from colonial contexts. Still, the coalition partner blocked the efforts 105 resulting in the withdrawal of the proposals. 106 In Baden-Württemberg, it was thus only possible to achieve an individual case decision on the return of two objects once in possession of Hendrik Witbooi. 107 However, there is still no general basis for future cases. At the national level, the Green Party’s 2018 Minor Interpellation 108 asked whether the German government would devise binding legal regulations for the return of objects from colonial contexts. 109 The government responded as follows: “The vast majority of institutions preserving cultural property are under the sponsorship and responsibility of the [federal] states and municipalities. The requirements for any restitution from the respective institutions are governed by the relevant [national], [federal] state and organizational laws, in particular the budgetary regulations of the [German] government, the [federal] states, and the municipalities.” 110

However, provenance research on objects from colonial contexts has been made a governmental issue. Indeed, the 2018 coalition agreement between the CDU, CSU, and SPD declares on the subject of provenance research:

105 See Axel Habermehl: Kolonialismus – Grün-Schwarz streitet um Raubkunst. In: Südwest Presse, Oct. 11, 2018; Arnold Rieger: Raubkunst aus Namibia. Rückgabe von geraubter Bibel sorgt für Verstimmung bei Grün-Schwarz. In: Stuttgarter Nachrichten, Oct. 23, 2018; Axel Habermehl: Ministerin Bauer zum kolonialen Erbe: “Es ist Zeit für ein Signal.” In: Südwest Presse, Oct. 27, 2018. 106 See Axel Habermehl: Bauer stoppt Plan zur Rückgabe von Raubkunst. Widerstand der CDU war zu stark – Nur Einzelfälle genehmigt. In: Rhein-Neckar-Zeitung, Nov. 11, 2018. 107 See Susanne Kaufmann: Baden-Württemberg will Restitution vorantreiben. Erste koloniale Güter gehen an Namibia zurück. In: Südwestrundfunk-Kultur Info, Nov. 13, 2018, https://www.swr.de/swr2/kunst-und-ausstellung/article-swr-13302.html (retrieved Oct. 14, 2019). 108 Parliamentary Group Bündnis 90/Die Grünen et al. (note 88). 109 See ibid., question 43, p. 7. 110 Antwort der Bundesregierung (note 90), p. 19.

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“We want to promote, as a focal point, the reappraisal of provenances of cultural objects deriving from colonial legacy in museums and collections, in particular via the Deutsches Zentrum Kulturgutverluste [DZK, i.e., German Lost Art Foundation] and in cooperation with the Deutscher Museumsbund [DMB, i.e., German Museums Association].” 111

Specific initiatives to develop a voluntary agreement on the national level—as a kind of soft law—do not exist yet. Indeed, the German Museums Association published its first Guidelines for German Museums on the Care of Collections from Colonial Contexts in May 2018. 112 However, the German government considers the publication only “a scientifically and independently developed guide by the DMB” 113 and not a binding set of rules for German museums. The DMB had the guidelines revised, 114 and the new edition includes the (subsequently obtained) “international perspective.” 115 By now, the DMB has published the Guidelines’ third edition. 116 Unlike the Sarr Savoy report, the Guidelines do not contain any factual information or demands regarding in which cases or under what conditions institutions should effect restitutions. Furthermore, unlike the Guidelines of the Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media, 117 the DMB publication provides no guidance for researching the provenance of an object. The German Lost Art Foundation or DZK, previously not involved with colonial contexts, has presented a funding guideline that came into force on January 1, 2019, and was last updated in 2022. 118 The text explicitly refers to the DMB’s manual 119 but does not go beyond it. In particular, unlike in the case of funding research regarding cultural property ex-

111 CDU/CSU/SPD: Ein neuer Aufbruch für Europa. Eine neue Dynamik für Deutschland. Ein neuer Zusammenhalt für unser Land. Koalitionsvertrag zwischen CDU, CSU und SPD, 19th legislative session 2018, https://www.bundesregierung.de/resource/ blob/656734/847984/5b8bc23590d4cb2892b31c987ad672b7/2018-03-14-koalitions vertragdata.pdf?download=1 (retrieved Apr. 1, 2020), p. 169, ll. 8038–8051. 112 See Deutscher Museumsbund e. V. (Ed.): Leitfaden zum Umgang mit Sammlungsgut aus kolonialen Kontexten. Berlin 2018. 113 Antwort der Bundesregierung (note 90), p. 19. 114 See Leitfaden (note 112). Berlin 2nd ed. 2019. 115 Antwort der Bundesregierung (note 90), p. 18. 116 See Leitfaden (note 112). Berlin 3rd ed. 2021. English version available: German Museums Association (Ed.): Guidelines for German Museums Care of Collections from Colonial Contexts. Berlin 3rd ed. 2021. 117 See Die Beauftragte (note 99), pp. 33–42. 118 See German Lost Art Foundation: Funding Guideline for Provenance Research Projects on Collections from Colonial Contexts, updated Jan. 2, 2022, https://www. kulturgutverluste.de/Content/03_Forschungsfoerderung/EN/Funding_Guideline_ 2021-11-09.pdf?__blob=publicationFile&v=2 (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023). 119 See ibid., p. 2.

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propriated as a result of Nazi persecution, the DZK guideline does not define a specific limited period within which a context of injustice can be assumed. 120 Likewise, the funding guideline avoids using the term dispossession. Moreover, the authors entirely omit the topic of identifying heirs. The German Lost Art Foundation defines as first among its funding objectives that the “project funding may be used for systematically and sustainably reviewing the provenance of cultural goods” 121—without specifying any general orientation. Potentially, this could fund research into museums’ entire holdings; however, the funded institutions are not encouraged to prioritize, for example, those objects brought to museums by military personnel. The Framework Principles for dealing with collections from colonial contexts agreed by the Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media, the Federal Foreign Office Minister of State for International Cultural Policy, the Cultural Affairs Ministers of the Länder, and the municipal umbrella organizations published in mid-March 2019 also avoided any binding statements. 122 There is talk of the will to create “conditions for the return of [. . . ] cultural objects from colonial contexts which were appropriated in a way which is no longer legally and / or ethically justifiable.” 123

It is also emphasized: “Through the violent appropriation of cultural objects in the wake of European colonialism, many societies were robbed of cultural objects which are crucial in defining their history and their cultural identity.” 124 The paper also addresses another point: “Given the great number of cultural objects, it is necessary to prioritise in the measures to be taken in in the short and medium term. Owing to the circumstances of their appropriation, those cultural objects which were removed from their societies and transported to Germany within the framework of formal

120 Guideline (note 118) updated Dec. 1, 2021, https://www.kulturgutverluste.de/Con tent/08_Downloads/EN/Guideline-Provenance-Research-Funding_NLCG.pdf?__ blob=publicationFile&v=8, (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023), p. 1. 121 See note 119. 122 See Framework Principles for dealing with collections from colonial contexts agreed by the Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media, the Federal Foreign Office Minister of State for International Cultural Policy, the Cultural Affairs Ministers of the Länder and the municipal umbrella organizations, updated March 13, 2019, https://www.auswaertiges-amt. de/blob/2210152/b2731f8b59210c77c68177cdcd3d03de/190412-stm-m-sammlungs gut-kolonial-kontext-en-data.pdf (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023). 123 Ibid., p. 2. 124 Ibid., p. 2.

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colonial rule by the German Empire, as well as cultural objects from other colonial rules for which requests for return have been submitted are particularly relevant.” 125 However, an obligation to “return” shall apply only to human remains. 126 The Protocol Declaration of the Federal States of Berlin, Hamburg, Thuringia, Brandenburg, and Bremen regarding the Framework Principles for Dealing with Collections from Colonial Contexts is also non-binding. It reads under point 5: “In the case of collection objects from colonial contexts, the acquisition of which must be regarded as unlawful according to current knowledge, active attempts to implement dialogue with the societies and states of origin are obligatory to enable restitution where desired.” 127

Moreover, initiatives for legislative measures shall wait until after an “evaluation of the previous restitution practice by the [German] government, the [federal] states, and the municipalities, scheduled for no later than three years after the declaration of the Framework Principles.” 128

The “Heidelberg Statement” issued in May 2019 on the occasion of the annual conference of directors of ethnological museums in Germanspeaking countries 129 is also non-binding. It does end with a plea to the museums’ sponsors for making funds available to enable “documentation, digitization, and cooperation with societies of origin [. . . ][,] cooperative provenance research and clarification of collection history [. . . ][,] partnerships with institutions in the societies of origin [. . . ][,as well as] repatriation, restitution, and other forms of amicable and respectful settlements.” 130

Proposals on how to implement these settlements were, however, not given.

125 Ibid., p. 4. 126 Ibid., p. 6. 127 Protokollerklärung der Länder Berlin, Hamburg, Thüringen, Brandenburg und Bremen zu den “Ersten Eckpunkten zum Umgang mit Sammlungsgut aus kolonialen Kontexten,“ March 13, 2019, https://www.berlin.de/sen/kulteu/aktuelles/ pressemitteilungen/2019/protokollerklaerung-zu-ersten-eckpunkten-umgang-mitsammlungsguetern_20190313.pdf (retrieved March 19, 2020). 128 Ibid., No. 6, p. 2. 129 See Dekolonisierung erfordert Dialog, Expertise und Unterstützung (Heidelberger Stellungnahme), May 6, 2019, https://www.museumsbund.de/wp-content/uploads/ 2019/ 05/heidelberger-stellungnahme.pdf (retrieved May 20, 2019). 130 Ibid., p. 2.

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4 Provenance Research and Restitution of Cultural Property It is time for the former colonial powers to take responsibility for the interference with the culture, society, and collective memory of the colonized people caused during the period of their rule. Inherent in assuming responsibility is recognizing the damage inflicted, which has “left its mark on the character and psyche of the African people” 131 and needs healing. Adopting such an attitude is a primary prerequisite for implementing in cooperation with those affected a shared approach for dealing with objects brought to Europe during the colonial period without obtaining consent or against the will of the original owners. Ample options are already available. For example, experts from science and practice could develop a self-commitment following the Joint Declaration on the Restitution of Cultural Property Seized as a Result of Nazi Persecution, officially published under the title Common Statement, 132 and a corresponding manual for implementing measures. As a basis for restitution, the established Common Statement as well as the governmental Guidelines refer to specific historical points in time and define that—from these points until the end of the Nazi regime—one must assume that those persecuted by the Nazis lost their possessions against their free will. For Germany’s colonial rule in Africa, specific events markedly indicated increased pressure on the local population. First and foremost, one must see the central turning point in establishing a military presence in the form of the Schutztruppen, their violent operations, and the military accompaniment of scientific expeditions. Finally, the highest level of interference in property relations and the associated freedoms of the local population was the complete expropriation of entire societal subsegments. 133 Binding guidelines developed with the parties concerned for dealing with these historical facts, asserting claims, and carrying out restitution

131 Felwine Sarr: Afrotopia. Berlin 2019, p. 89. 132 See Erklärung der Bundesregierung, der Länder und der kommunalen Spitzenverbände zur Auffindung und zur Rückgabe NS-verfolgungsbedingt entzogenen Kulturgutes, insbesondere aus jüdischem Besitz (Gemeinsame Erklärung), Dec. 1999, https://www.kulturgutverluste.de/Content/08_Downloads/DE/Grundlagen/ Gemeinsame-Erklaerung/Gemeinsame-Erklaerung.pdf? _ _blob=publicationFile& v=15 (retrieved March 20, 2019). English translation available at https://www. kulturgutverluste.de/Content/08_Downloads/EN/BasicPrinciples/Common-State ment/Common-Statement.html?nn=1345172 (retrieved Jan. 5, 2023). 133 See Kaiserliche VO betreffend die Einziehung von Vermögen Eingeborener im südwestafrikanischen Schutzgebiet, 1905 (i.e., Imperial Ordinance concerning the confiscation of property of indigenes in the South West African Protectorate). In: Amtsblatt für die Schutzgebiete in Afrika und in der Südsee 17 (1906) No. 1, pp. 1 sq.

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proceedings would ensure transparency in dealing with Germany’s colonial legacy. Such guidelines could stipulate, in addition to restitution, other options such as loans, purchases, etc., as a possible result of the procedures. The German government and the federal state governments are free to decide whether there should be clearly defined regulations for the return of objects from colonial contexts, whether proof of certain circumstances should condition possible returns, and when and with whom to enter into negotiations on the form of the regulation. In this context, it would make all the difference to take courage and actively pursue a process of coming to terms with the past. Provenance research will thereby form the basis for identifying the objects originating from colonial contexts. In addition, the increase in knowledge about the objects resulting from systematic provenance research will change our perception of them. In particular, the diversity of aspects belonging to an object in each case, e.g., its original meaning and context or its connection to the history of colonialism per se, will allow the complexity of each object to become apparent. Ultimately, revealing the history of an object is also inextricably linked to the recognition of the historical circumstances associated with it. This recognition would become part of Germany’s already existing reparation policy and, thus, its culture of remembrance.

Matthias Goldmann, Beatriz von Loebenstein

Thieves in the Temple On the Role of Legal Provenance Research in the Restitution of Colonial Artefacts

1 Restitution and Legal Provenance Research In 2017, President Macron’s push for the complete restitution of cultural objects from the colonial era threw the German museum landscape into turmoil. 1 It occurred at the time when the Humboldt Forum was preparing to open its doors in the recently reconstructed former imperial palace in Berlin, hosting the government’s comprehensive anthropological collection. The timing and the symbolic significance of the site made it impossible for German museum curators to continue brushing aside demands for the return of cultural objects raised by the countries of origin or affected ethnic groups. The debate about the restitution of cultural objects hit the German public relatively unprepared, resulting in a strident tone often characterizing the debate. One vehemently disputed point is the relevance of these objects’ legal provenance, i.e., whether their current holder had acquired them legally. On the one hand, prominent voices deny the legitimacy of colonial law and demand the restitution of all objects that came to Europe in a colonial context. According to Felwine Sarr and Bénédicte Savoy, the illegitimacy derives from the fact that wartime looting had been legal under international law until the end of the 19th century. 2 Sophie Schönberger confines her analysis to a general argument that there are currently no

1 See President Emmanuel Macron’s speech at the University of Ouagadougou, Nov. 28, 2017, https://www.jeuneafrique.com/497596/politique/document-le-discoursdemmanuel-macron-a-ougadougou/ (retrieved Januar 15, 2020). 2 See Felwine Sarr, Bénédicte Savoy, The Restitution of African Cultural Heritage. Toward a New Relational Ethics. Paris (Nov.) 2018, https://restitutionreport2018. com/ (retrieved Januray 15, 2020), p. 9.

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sound titles for the restitution of cultural objects brought to Germany in colonial times. The legislature would therefore have to compensate for the failure of international law. 3 However, given the persisting power imbalance between the Global North and the Global South, it remains to be seen if a politically negotiated compromise can become the focal point of a new “relational ethics” 4 that goes beyond the mere reproduction of colonial dependency relationships. On the other hand, voices such as Hermann Parzinger demand that restitution should rely on legal criteria. Still, they do not subject the law of the time or the dependency relationships that may underlie an acquisition to critical reflection. 5 Compared to the legal situation in dealing with confiscations carried out by the Nazi regime, this represents a step backward. According to Sec. 2a (1) of the German Restitution Act, 6 holders must return objects if the assets were sold under pressure or the acquisition did not comply with the principles of the rule of law in other respects. Only recently, the German Lost Art Foundation, previously entrusted with the restitution of artefacts looted in the Nazi era, began to provide funding for projects regarding “colonial contexts,” including provenance research. 7 The odds are that legal provenance research will gain importance. In our opinion, such efforts are vital—otherwise, one would leave the regulation of restitution to the free play of forces of an asymmetrical political relationship. While the best intentions may be at work on all sides, the deeply entrenched structures of paternalism and discrimination against the Global South might be difficult to overcome in negotiations at the political level. In this context, legal provenance research might corroborate the position of those claiming restitution. However, legal provenance research can only contribute to a fair understanding of restitution and bring about emancipatory progress if it refrains

3 See Sophie Schönberger: Die Säule von Cape Cross und das Völkerrecht. In: Historische Urteilskraft 1 (2019), p. 28. See also Sophie Schönberger: Was soll Zurück? Die Restitution von Kulturgütern im Zeitalter der Nostalgie. Munich 2021, pp. 36, 43 sq. 4 See Sarr, Savoy (note 2), p. 39. 5 See “Wir wollen maximale Transparenz.” Interview Hermann Parzinger. In: Neues Deutschland, Jan. 19, 2019, https://www.neues-deutschland.de/artikel/1110323.kolo nialismus-wir-wollen-maximale-transparenz.html (retrieved Jan. 15, 2020). 6 See Bundesgesetz zur Regelung der rückerstattungsrechtlichen Geldverbindlichkeiten des Deutschen Reichs und gleichgestellter Rechtsträger. In: Bundesminister der Justiz (Ed.): https://www.gesetze-im-internet.de/br_g/index.html (retrieved Dec. 2, 2022). 7 Identifying relevant objects and determining their legal status has been in the hands of the German Lost Art Foundation for years. See https://www.kulturgutverluste.de/ Webs/DE/Start/Index.html (retrieved Jan. 15, 2020). See also the contribution by Christoph Zuschlag to this volume.

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from a naïve approach to colonial law 8 and does not merely reproduce legally substantiated structures of oppression. Therefore, it is necessary to critically re-apprise colonial law from a postcolonial perspective—both in terms of its validity and its application in a specific instance. Even in cases where restitution claims ultimately do not succeed for legal reasons, for example, because statutes of limitation bar them, critical legal provenance research can provide insights into the merits of such claims and the structural injustice embodied in the law governing the acquisition. This would convey relevant information for the political decision on restitution required in such cases. Ideally, this transforms the law from an instrument of colonial oppression into a key to overcoming the colonial legacy (see section 2). 9 On this methodological basis, this article examines the legal provenance of some well-known cultural objects housed in German museums, which play a role in the dispute over restitution referred to earlier. The objects originate partly from the Ottoman Empire (Pergamon Altar) and its vassal states (Nefertiti) and partly from present-day Namibia (Witbooi Bible and Whip or Cape Cross stele) (see section 3). As we shall see, the case studies indicate that an object’s cultural significance for present-day Germany has a larger impact on Germany’s (inconsistent) restitution practice than legal criteria. In other words, Germany’s cultural appropriation of an object and its interest in it could reduce the chance for restitution. The findings confirm our doubts about whether the restitution issue should be left solely to political discretion (see section 4). For reasons of clarification, we should add that this text does not refer to human remains. Restitution claims for human remains raise questions of a completely different nature. 10

8 In our understanding, the term colonial law encompasses the legal regime that governs the legal relations between colonial powers and colonies. It includes norms of international law, state law, and indigenous law. See Luigi Nuzzo: Kolonialrecht. In: Europäische Geschichte Online (EGO), ed. by the Institut für Europäische Geschichte (IEG). Mainz 2011, http://www.ieg-ego.eu/nuzzol-2011-de (retrieved Jan. 15, 2020). 9 See Philipp Dann, Felix Hanschmann: Postkoloniale Theorien, Recht und Rechtswissenschaft. Einleitung in den Schwerpunkt. In: Kritische Justiz 45 (2012), pp. 127–130. 10 See Piotr Bienkowski: A Critique of Museum Restitution and Repatriation Practices. In: Sharon Macdonald, Helen Rees Leahy (Eds.): The International Handbooks of Museum Studies. Chichester 2015, pp. 431–453.

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2 Legal Provenance Research and Postcolonial Legal Theory Legal provenance research can make a constructive contribution to an understanding between former colonial powers and societies of origin located in the Global South formerly exposed to colonial dominance on the condition of a critical approach to colonial-era law—a challenge in light of the basic principle of intertemporal international law. This principle holds that transactions from the past, such as acquisitions of cultural objects, are to be judged according to the law applicable at the time. 11 The approach carries the obvious risk of projecting past injustices into the present and thus perpetuating them. A glaring example is the prevalent 19th-century view that only the polities of “civilized” peoples qualify as sovereign states. 12 Considering that colonial powers in the 19th century divided the world into civilized, semi-civilized, and non-civilized regions, the principle of intertemporal international law would, if strictly applied, today result in the denial of all rights to many states or ethnic groups of the Global South formerly under colonial influence as these rights depend on their recognition as subjects of international law in the past. Hence, in the absence of a critical examination of colonial law, one would extend the justification for former marginalization into the present without a second thought. Yet, legal provenance research based on a reflected postcolonial perspective can break the vicious circle of intertemporal logic. This approach is imperative, for one, of the doubts about the intertemporal principle’s justness and, for another, of the consideration that the principle stands on feet of clay in terms of legal theory. There is simply no direct recourse to the past, including its law. Due to its linguistic mediation, the law is always indeterminate—its meaning depends on the context. 13 However, someone applying the law today stands in a context that is unalterably different from that of their historical colleagues in colonial times.

11 See Award of the Tribunal of Arbitration (of the League of Nations) in the Island of Palmas Case (The Netherlands vs. United States of America), Apr. 4, 1928. In: United Nations (Eds.): Reports of International Arbitral Awards 2 (2006) https://legal.un.org/ riaa/cases/vol_II/829-871.pdf (retrieved Jan. 20, 2020), pp. 829–871, esp. pp. 829 and 845. 12 See Thomas J. Lawrence: The Principles of International Law. London and New York 1895, p. 57. Aug. W. Heffter distinguishes between Christian and non-Christian nation-states and recognizes only the former as subjects of law. Aug. W. Heffter: Das europäische Völkerrecht der Gegenwart auf den bisherigen Grundlagen. Berlin 7th ed. 1882, p. 19. 13 See Ludwig Wittgenstein: Philosophische Untersuchungen. Frankfurt on the Main 16th ed. 2004, § 42.

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Attempts to empathize with a past context are doomed to fail: 14 Recourse to the past of law depends on present cognitive and normative frameworks. 15 As a consequence, present-day practitioners of law cannot wholly shift responsibility for what they perceive as unjust law onto the past; the law of the past is ultimately the result of their reconstruction. But how do we comply with the resulting responsibility without attracting the reproach of anachronism by simply correcting the law of the past and thus reducing the intertemporal principle to absurdity? 16 The answer to the problem requires two steps. The first is to contextualize the law of the past with critical intent. 17 Yet, one cannot confine this exercise to merely exposing the oppressive potential of colonial law. That would not lead out of the circle of perpetuating past injustices. 18 An approach that serves the purpose is to critically examine the law of the past against the legal and factual standards of the past. Contextualization, in this sense, promises an emancipatory gain; 19 it does not leave the reconstruction of past law to the political discretion of those who apply the law 20 but refers to concrete standards that once affected the past. Two concrete benchmarks of the past lend themselves to critical contextualization. The first is to correct factual misconceptions undergirding the application of the law in the past, such as classifying a group as “uncivilized” out of ignorance of its level of organization and cultural or technical capabilities. 21 The principle of intertemporal law ties us back only to the law of the past, not to the factual misconceptions underlying 14 In his day, Friedrich Schleiermacher had a different view. See Friedrich Schleiermacher: Hermeneutik und Kritik mit besonderer Beziehung auf das Neue Testament. Berlin 1838 (Hermeneutics and Criticism and Other Writings. Translated by Andrew Bowie. Cambridge 1998). 15 See Martti Koskenniemi: Vitoria and Us. Thoughts on Critical Histories of International Law. In: Rechtsgeschichte 22 (2014), pp. 119–138, esp. p. 122. 16 See Andrew Fitzmaurice: Context in the History of International Law. In: Journal of the History of International Law / Revue d’histoire du droit international 20 (2018), pp. 5–30, esp. pp. 5 and 7. 17 See Quentin Skinner: Meaning and Understanding in the History of Ideas. In: History and Theory 8 (1969), pp. 3–53, esp. pp. 8 sq.; with reference to international law see Thomas Kleinlein: International Legal Thought. Creation of a Tradition and the Potential of Disciplinary Self-Reflection. In: Global Community Yearbook of International Law and Jurisprudence 16 (2016), pp. 811–827, esp. pp. 824 sq. 18 See Koskenniemi (note 14), p. 128. He points out the mentioned risk. 19 See ibid., p. 129; Anne Orford: International Law and the Limits of History. In: Alexis Galán et al. (Eds.): The Law of International Lawyers. Reading Martti Koskenniemi. Cambridge 2017, pp. 297–320, esp. p. 304. 20 Fitzmaurice disagrees on this point. Fitzmaurice (note 15), p. 13. 21 Matthias Goldmann comments in detail on this. See Matthias Goldmann: Anachronismen als Risiko und Chance. Der Fall Rukoro et al. gegen Deutschland. In: Kritische Justiz 52 (2019), pp. 92–117.

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it. Critical contextualization thus opens the reconstruction of colonial law to more recent insights from other disciplines, especially historiography, ethnology, archaeology, and art history. Second, critical contextualization has to gain a comprehensive picture of historical law in all its heterogeneity and to avoid the misconception that colonial law was monolithic and even gradually more definite or indisputable than current law. Astonishingly, both apologetic and critical reconstructions of colonial law have sometimes overlooked the ambiguity and contradictoriness of state practice and doctrine at the time. However, given the lack of central institutions for lawmaking and law application, numerous conflicts between colonial powers, and social conflicts within the colonizing societies, it would be highly surprising if colonial law proved homogeneous. 22 Its ambiguous and contradictory character results not least from the fact that colonial law, despite its function as an instrument of domination and oppression, at the same time had a legitimizing function inherent in every legal order in the European tradition. 23 For example, in the Final Act of the Congress of Berlin, not a single word indicates the bloody conquests the treaty made possible; instead, the wording implies a seemingly humanistic, albeit paternalistic, attitude toward people in colonial territories. Finally, the governments of the colonial powers faced a public at home and abroad that was divided on the issue of colonialism, especially in view of their potential impact on Europe. 24 Colonial law had to deal with a complex set of interests of the most diverse actors on the national and supranational levels, which was not always possible without running into contradictions. Illustrative of this predicament is the following remark of the Director of the Colonial Department of the Foreign Office, Dr. Stübel, from a speech delivered before the Reichstag on March 18, 1905: “How does a rule of our colonial law come about? First of all, the governor is asked whether such a rule is compatible with the conditions of the Protectorate. Since the governorate councils were established, the governor has had to consult them. When the governor has made his report, within the

22 Fredrik Thomasson uses the example of the removal of art objects from the Ottoman Empire to discuss this. See Fredrik Thomasson: Justifying and Criticizing the Removals of Antiquities in Ottoman Lands. Tracking the Sigeion Inscription. In: International Journal of Cultural Property 17 (2010), pp. 493–517. 23 On this subject, in relation to the work of Vitoria, see Antony Anghie: Imperialism, Sovereignty and the Making of International Law. Cambridge 2005, p. 28. 24 Impressively exemplified citing the dispute over the use of the hippopotamus whip or sjambok by Rebekka Habermas: Peitschen im Reichstag oder über den Zusammenhang von materieller und politischer Kultur. Koloniale Debatten um 1900. In: Historische Anthropologie 23 (2015), pp. 391–412.

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administration, in all legal matters, the Imperial Justice Office is consulted. In all economic matters, the departmental ministries concerned are consulted. Only after a legal rule has passed all these stages can one think about issuing and publishing a decree. [. . . ] Anyway, you will grant me that legislation in the colonies is in perpetual flux, much more so than here at home. We are extremely grateful to legal scholarship for dealing with colonial law, for analytically penetrating and consolidating colonial law.” 25

In applying colonial law, it is crucial to identify this contingency, not to cover it up. Anyone who follows this line of thought and leaves the wellworn path of selective citation traditions will soon discover the ambiguity of the late 19th-century colonial law. For example, the criterion that a polity needed to reach a particular stage in the civilization process as a precondition of sovereignty was neither universally accepted 26 nor even remotely consistently understood or applied. Thus, contemporary observers concluded all sorts of treaties with supposedly uncivilized peoples concerning the transfer of sovereignty or property. 27 Therefore, the International Court of Justice does not resort to this criterion today when dealing with historical cases. 28 Taking a reflective postcolonial perspective, legal scholarship follows up on these findings with a second step. It is legitimate to fill the open questions and interpretative wiggle room left by colonial law by resorting to contemporary standards. After all, the law always gets concretized at the very moment of application, which one cannot abstract from the present context. 29 Law is thus always open to the future, even past law. In this sense, the International Court of Justice advocates an evolutionary interpretation of the law that takes into account the constant evolution of law. 30 25 Reichstagsprotokolle (i. e, Minutes of the Reichstag) 1903/05, Vol. 7, p. 5376. 26 See Johann C. Bluntschli: Das moderne Völkerrecht der civilisirten Staten als Rechtsbuch dargestellt. Nördlingen 1868, p. 68. 27 See Lawrence (note 11), pp. 154–155; Mamadou Hébié: Souveraineté territoriale par traité. Geneva 2015, pp. 327–355 and 442–458. 28 See International Court of Justice: Western Sahara. Advisory Opinion, Oct. 16, 1975, http://www.worldcourts.com/icj/eng/decisions/1975.10.16_western_sahara. htm (retrieved Jan. 15, 2020), pp. 12, 39 sq.; Ntina Tzouvala: Civilization. In: Jean d’Aspremont, Sahib Singh (Eds.): Concepts for International Law. Contributions to Disciplinary Thought. Cheltenham, Northampton 2019, pp. 83–104, esp. pp. 90 sq. 29 See Jürgen Habermas: Between Facts and Norms: Contributions to a Discourse Theory of Law and Democracy, Hoboken and New York 2015, chapter 5, “The Indeterminacy of Law and the Rationality of Adjudication.” 30 See Legal Consequences for States of the Continued Presence of South Africa in Namibia (South West Africa) notwithstanding Security Council Resolution 276. Advisory Opinion, June 21, 1971, https://www.icj-cij.org/public/files/case-related/ 53/053-19710621ADV-01-00-EN.pdf (retrieved Jan. 20, 2020), pp. 16, 30 sq.

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However, this does not mean simply replacing colonial law with modern ideas. Instead, one has to resolve the open questions and contradictions of colonial law with a view to current law. Suppose, for example, at issue is the validity of a colonial-era treaty, which potentially has effects that reach into the present. In that case, the right of self-determination under international law can serve as an aid to interpretation. Would upholding the treaty be in line with self-determination? Without such a reference to the present, one can hardly apply the law of the past in a meaningful way. Only if we understand the law as a “living instrument” 31 can it preserve its social function over decades, even centuries. Historians, including legal historians, may be critical of transferring current standards to the past. 32 Still, applying the law of the past here and now makes a difference to (merely) writing about it. For state constitutions, incidentally, the transformation of past compromises in the present context is widely accepted; 33 there is no reason why applying colonial law under the principles of intertemporal law should constitute an exemption.

3 Case Studies This section illustrates the call for a nuanced legal approach to colonialera artifacts with some well-known examples of objects reclaimed by their countries of origin. In two cases, the objects have meanwhile been restituted. The case studies will demonstrate the proposed method, rather than determining the plausibility of the respective restitution claims with certainty. Such a determination would require further research on individual aspects of each case, including examining archival records. The German Act on the Protection of Cultural Property does not apply to any of the items discussed below, as the objects entered the country prior to Germany’s 2007 accession to the 1970 UNESCO Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property (see Section 52 of the Act). The Federal

31 The term stems from the European Court of Human Rights case law: Judgment in the Case Tyrer vs. the United Kingdom, Appl.-No. /72, Apr. 25, 1978, http://hudoc.echr. coe.int/eng?i=001-57587 (retrieved Jan. 20, 2020). 32 See Fitzmaurice (note 15), p. 13. 33 See Markus Kotzur: Constitutional Amendments and Constitutional Changes in Germany. In: Xenophon Contiades (Ed.): Engineering Constitutional Change. A Comparative Perspective on Europe, Canada and the USA. London 2013, pp. 135– 160; Vicki C. Jackson: Constitutions as “Living Trees“? Comparative Constitutional Law and Interpretive Metaphors. In: Fordham Law Review 75 (2006), pp. 921–960, esp. pp. 921 and 925.

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Republic has not ratified the UNIDROIT Convention on Stolen or Illegally Exported Cultural Objects; international treaty law does not provide any further legally binding provisions for restitution. 34 However, the lack of explicit legislation on restitution claims does not rule out that claims for restitution might be well-founded in individual cases—this is precisely the field of legal provenance research. Moreover, we do not discuss here whether human rights give rise to a right to restitution. 35 Suffice it to say that the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, as an authoritative interpretation of existing human rights norms, might constitute the basis of such claims. 36 In Article 11 section 2, the Declaration obliges states to develop, together with indigenous peoples, effective mechanisms of redress concerning religious or spiritual objects taken from indigenous peoples without their free, prior, and informed consent or in violation of their laws, traditions, and customs. The Declaration specifies that such measures could include restitution. Only the fact that the Declaration refers to mechanisms yet to be developed might imply the lack of intent to recognize restitution claims as directly deriving from human rights. Nevertheless, human rights constitute an essential focal point for the critical approach to colonial law intended here. Moreover, human rights principles are relevant for providing guidance when restitution claims are left to political discretion, and their potential still needs to be fully tapped.

34 See Deutscher Bundestag, Wissenschaftliche Dienste: Ausarbeitung: Rückführung von Kulturgütern aus Kolonialgebieten. Rechtsgrundlagen für Ansprüche auf Restitution (i.e., German Bundestag, Scientific Services: Elaboration: Repatriation of Cultural Property from Colonial Territories. Legal Bases for Claims for Restitution), BT WD 10-3000-023/18, May 4, 2018, https://www.bundestag.de/resource/blob/561162/ d41c5c7c2312cbd82286e01677c187e8/WD-10-023-18-pdf-data.pdf (retrieved Apr. 30, 2020). 35 On the Emergence of a Human Rights Dimension in the Protection of Cultural Property, see Francesco Francioni: The Human Dimension of International Cultural Heritage Law. An Introduction. In: European Journal of International Law 22 (2011), pp. 9–16; Evelien Campfens: Whose Cultural Objects? Introducing Heritage Title for Cross-Border Cultural Property Claims. In: Netherlands International Law Review 67 (2020), pp 257–295. 36 See United Nations General Assembly: United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UN Doc A/Res/61/295), Sept. 13, 2007, https://undocs.org/A/ RES/61/ 295 (retrieved Apr. 29, 2020).

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3.1 Pergamon Altar a) Context of the Find

The Pergamon Altar was a monumental ancient-time construction built near the now-Turkish city of Bergama, part of the Ottoman Empire at the time of the excavations. The European powers recognized the Ottoman Empire as a member of the “community of European public law” in the 1856 Treaty of Paris, which ended the Crimean War. 37 From that moment on, European states had to respect international law in their relations with the Ottoman government, the so-called Sublime Porte; 38 thus, the formal status of the Ottoman Empire did not equal that of a colony. The Ottoman Empire’s organization derived from the constitution of 1876, 39 which established a constitutional monarchy with a bicameral parliament. The sultan retained significant influence over legislation by appointing the members of the Senate. The constitution allowed for elections of the members of the House of Representatives every four years. However, the parliament was not in session between the Russo-Turkish War of 1877-1778 and the Young Turk Revolution of 1908. Towards the end of the 19th century, the interest of European states in excavating and acquiring ancient cultural artefacts awakened awareness of the objects’ significance in the Ottoman Empire. The Ottoman diplomat and archaeological autodidact Osman Hamdi Bey played a decisive role in this process. He was appointed director of the Müze-i Hümayun (i.e., Imperial Museum) in 1881. 40 The Ottoman Imperial Museum, modeled after European museums in Paris, London, and Vienna, opened to the public in 1891. At the behest of the Ottoman Minister of Public Education, all regions of the Empire sent ancient artifacts for permanent display in the museum. The Ottoman Empire used the move to demonstrate its domination over its entire territory. 41 In the late 19th century, the so-called salnames, official yearbooks on the Ottoman provinces, began to report on antiquities. They served to demonstrate the empire’s high level of civilization by referencing historical heritage and to generate a narrative backing up for projected reforms

37 Heffter (note 11), p. 15. 38 See ibid., p. 20. See also Lawrence (note 11), p. 59. 39 The Ottoman Constitution, Promulgated the 7th Zilbridje, 1293 (i.e., Dec. 11 or 23, 1876). In: American Journal of International Law 2 (1908), pp. 367–387. 40 See Alpay Pasinli: Archäologische Museen Istanbuls. Istanbul 1992. 41 See Wendy M. K. Shaw: Possessors and Possessed. Museums, Archaeology, and the Visualization of History in the Late Ottoman Empire. Berkeley 2003, p. 87.

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in some of the empire’s provinces by harking back to a glorious past. 42 The salnames also provided information about foreign interest in ancient cultural heritage and warned against suspicious or irregular activities. In describing the excavations, they deliberately pointed out the control of foreign excavation campaigns by Ottoman authorities. For example, the 1902 salname of the Aydin Province emphasized that the Germans carried out their excavations at Pergamon with the government’s permission. 43 In addition to the salnames, illustrated journals published in Istanbul covered the late 19th-century archaeological finds. 44 Still, the Ottoman Empire decided to subject the finds’ ownership and division to legal regulation. As early as 1874, the first antiquities law came into force, including a precise regulation of the division of finds. In principle, any finds belonged to the state. Of the finds from stateauthorized excavations, one-third belonged to the discoverer, one-third to the empire, and one-third to the landowner. 45 The authorities legitimized many of the archaeological excavations in progress by granting excavation permits. However, the sultan granted many exceptions to the rule on the division of finds. 46 A new Antiquities Law followed in 1884, after which all objects belonged to the Ottoman Empire. Finds from authorized excavations belonged to the Imperial Museum, except for chance finds on private lands, of which half of the discovered things remained with the landowners. 47 In addition, the law limited the export of cultural objects to fragments and made the explicit consent of the Imperial Museum a condition. 48 It was not until 1906 that the Ottoman Empire enacted a

42 See Zeynep Çelik: Defining Empire’s Patrimony: Late Ottoman Perceptions of Antiquities. In: Zainab Bahrani et al. (Eds.): Scramble for the Past. A Story of Archaeology in the Ottoman Empire, 1753–1914. Istanbul 2011, p. 458. 43 See ibid., p. 459. 44 See ibid., p. 466. One example is the journal Servet-i Fünun, published from 1891 to 1944. 45 See Shaw (note 41), p. 91. See also comprehensively Sebastian M. Spitra: Die Verwaltung von Kultur im Völkerrecht: Eine postkoloniale Geschichte. Baden-Baden, 2021. 46 See Mesut Dinler: The Knife’s Edge of the Present. Archaeology in Turkey from the Nineteenth Century to the 1940s. In: International Journal of Historical Archaeology 22 (2018), pp. 728–745, esp. p. 732. 47 See Sibel Özel: Under the Turkish Blanket Legislation. The Recovery of Cultural Property Removed from Turkey. In: International Journal of Legal Information 38 (2010) No. 2, pp. 177–184, esp. p. 179. 48 See Shaw (note 41), p. 113; Ursula Kästner: Carl Humann und die Entdeckung des Pergamonaltares. Vom Privatunternehmen zum Staatsauftrag. In: Charlotte Trümpler (Ed.): Das große Spiel. Archäologie und Politik zur Zeit des Kolonialismus (1860– 1940). Cologne 2008, pp. 325–335, esp. p. 329.

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new Antiquities Law, which granted ownership of all antiquities found on public and private lands to the state. 49 The Pergamon Altar’s discovery and transport to the German Empire happened while the first two laws were in force. The German engineer Carl Humann had undertaken excavations in ancient Pergamon from 1871 onwards on behalf of the Imperial German Museums. On September 9, 1878, excavations began under his direction on the castle hill of Pergamon, extending over three campaigns until 1886. 50 After several months of negotiations between the German consul, Humann, and the Ottoman governor general, the excavation permit granted two-thirds of the finds to Germany. 51 Humann sent the first tranche of the finds from the Pergamon Altar site to Berlin in 1879. Subsequently, Alexander Conze, director of the Sculpture Collection of the Royal Museums in Berlin, identified the altar. Additional pieces arrived in Germany between 1881 and 1886. In negotiations between the Sublime Porte and the German Empire from 1878 to 1879, and with the support of Bismarck, the German side achieved that the Ottoman Empire also ceded its remaining share. The price consisted of about 20,000 gold marks, to be paid as financial aid to Turkish refugees who had been driven to Asia Minor by the Balkan War. 52 The Ottoman Empire’s weakness due to its then-imminent insolvency and gratitude for Bismarck’s mediating role at the Congress of Berlin in 1878 contributed to these terms and conditions. 53 In light of the agreement, some consider the ownership situation as beyond doubt. 54 Neither Greece nor Turkey seems to be entitled to restitution under international law. 55 At times, even Turkish representatives recognized the Sublime Porte’s signing of the

49 See Özel (note 47), p. 179. 50 See Kästner (note 48), p. 326. 51 See ibid.; Alexander Conze: Geschichte der Untersuchung. In: Königliche Museen zu Berlin (Ed.): Altertümer von Pergamon, Vol. 1: Stadt und Landschaft. Berlin 1912, pp. 1–34, esp. pp. 17 and 19. 52 See Hans-Joachim Schalles: Der Pergamon-Altar zwischen Bewertung und Verwertbarkeit. Frankfurt on the Main 1988, p. 11; see also Wendy M. K. Shaw: From Mausoleum to Museum. Resurrecting Antiquity for Ottoman Modernity. In: Bahrani et al. (note 42), p. 431; Max Kunze, Volker Kästner: Der Altar von Pergamon, hellenistische und römische Architektur. Berlin 2nd ed. 1990, p. 30. 53 See Gilbert H. Gornig: Wem gehört der Pergamon-Altar? In: Gilbert H. Gornig et al. (Eds.): Griechenland in Europa. Frankfurt on the Main 2000, p. 77; see also Kunze (note 52), p. 30; Schalles (note 52), p. 11; Erik Jayme: Nationales Kunstwerk und Internationales Privatrecht. Vorträge, Aufsätze, Gutachten. Heidelberg 1999, p. 204; Suzanne L. Marchand: Down from Olympus. Archaeology and Philhellenism in Germany, 1750–1970. Princeton 1996, p. 190. 54 See Gornig (note 53), p. 94. 55 See ibid., p. 83.

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agreement and excavation permit as legal. 56 Local politicians, in particular, however, have long demanded the return of the altar. b) An Unequal Contract?

Is the acquisition of the Pergamon Altar by the German Reich unobjectionable under the law in force at the time? The international law of the time presupposed that interstate treaties had to correspond to the will of the parties. 57 The notion raises the question of what was to be considered the expression of a state’s free will at the time. Were “unequal contracts” in which one party was structurally disadvantaged considered valid? Many textbook formulations read as answering this question in the affirmative. Heffter, for example, put it as follows: “Error, deceit, and coercion accordingly have the same influence on the legal status of treaties as it has long been established in all private rights. Nevertheless, not every kind of pressure that only complicates the choice of a decision can be considered a true obstacle to freedom of will; rather, a kind of compulsion is necessary, able to shake even a strong persevering courage. Such circumstances will always be the case when danger arises for the physical or moral existence, and consequently, the duty of self-preservation demands to yield as long as higher duties do not command to withstand the danger. For a state, such a danger will exist when its existence as an independent state is at stake; for the sovereign or negotiator, when his life, health, honor, or liberty gets seriously threatened, and the execution of the threat is really in the power of the threatening party.” 58

Such an attitude brought undeniable advantages for a European colonial power like the German Empire, which had emerged victorious from the last war against France. Hence, the German Empire was an internally quite heterogeneous construct, featuring a comparatively weak center, limited financial resources, and a much lower degree of democratic legitimacy than liberal states of the time, such as the United States or Great Britain. These peculiarities had an impact on the theory of the state. Thus, in the eyes of its legal theorists, the German Reich’s legitimacy wasn’t based on popular sovereignty but a normatively charged concept of the state, mostly taken from Hegelian philosophy. Examples of this way of thinking

56 See interview with the Minister of Culture and Tourism of Turkey, Ömer Çelik, March 14, 2013, https://www.spiegel.de/international/germany/dispute-heats-upbetween-germany-and-turkey-over-contested-artifacts-a-888398.html (retrieved Jan. 15, 2020). 57 See Carl Bergbohm: Staatsverträge und Gesetze als Quellen des Völkerrechts. Dorpat 1877, p. 77. 58 Heffter (note 11), p. 152; see also Franz von Liszt: Das Völkerrecht. Berlin 1898, p. 112.

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are legion. For all the diversity of approaches, one can find them in the political science of Lorenz von Stein as well as in Gerber and Laband’s works, whose legal positivism ultimately bases on the idealization of the state. 59 Georg Jellinek, probably the most authoritative state theorist of the German Empire, defined the state as “the social entity of settled people equipped with the primordial ruling power.” 60 His guiding principle was an omnipotent state that “rules everywhere, is ruled in no way” 61 and directs its actions according to predetermined state purposes (instead of democratic self-determination). 62 This mindset had consequences for his understanding of international law. Such an absolutized state could not easily bind itself or be bound by treaties. His theory, therefore, resulted in a specifica German variant of “denial of international law.” The term refers to the view—widespread in the sovereignty-focused 19th century—that international law lacked legally binding force. In Great Britain, the view found a prominent representative in John Austin, who focused primarily on the lack of enforceability of international law norms. 63 Indeed, one can find a similar line of argumentation in the German legal literature of the time. 64 However, the denial of international law based on state theory is a German variant that seems difficult to explain without Hegel’s philosophy of law. 65 Bergbohm’s positivist will theory, as familiar as it may seem to today’s recipients in comparison to other international law literature of the time, was by no means unchallenged in this respect. Georg Jellinek, a constitutional and international law scholar, developed an influential intermediate position. His self-obligation doctrine attempts to reconstruct international legal obligations in a way that is

59 See Manfred Friedrich: Paul Laband und die Staatsrechtswissenschaft seiner Zeit. In: Archiv des Öffentlichen Rechts 111 (1986), pp. 197–218, esp. p. 207. 60 Georg Jellinek: Gesetz und Verordnung. Staatsrechtliche Untersuchungen auf rechtsgeschichtlicher und rechtsvergleichender Grundlage. Freiburg i. Br. 1887, p. 190. See additionally Georg Jellinek: Allgemeine Staatslehre. Berlin 3rd ed. 1914, pp. 180 sq. 61 Ibid., p. 197. 62 See ibid., p. 191. 63 See John Austin: The Province of Jurisprudence Determined, Vol. 2. London 1861, p. 177. 64 See Karl V. Fricker: Noch einmal das Problem des Völkerrechts. In: Zeitschrift für die gesamte Staatswissenschaft 34 (1878), pp. 368–405, esp. pp. 368 sq. 65 See Georg Jellinek: Die rechtliche Natur der Staatenverträge. Ein Beitrag zur juristischen Construction des Völkerrechts. Vienna 1880, p. 3. Albert Zorn was also an influential representative of this doctrine. See Albert Zorn: Grundzüge des Völkerrechts. Leipzig 2nd ed. 1903, pp. 5–9. See Georg W. F. Hegel’s work for the philosophical basis of the considerations. Georg W. F. Hegel: Elements of the Philosophy of Right. (Berlin 1821) Translated an edited by H. B. Nisbet, Cambridge 1991, § 333.

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appropriate to the practice of states at the time. 66 According to Jellinek, a self-obligation of the state can only come about if the state freely chooses to understand itself bound—rather than complying with some kind of expectation. The will to be legally bound thus becomes dependent on the moral disposition of the state; 67 it also varies with the individual legal system; in domestic law, the will to get legally bound is more substantial than in international law. 68 In contrast to natural persons, the state will does not change situationally but only through a contrary act of will. The self-binding effect remains in force insofar—and as long as—the corresponding legal act corresponds to the state purpose of the legal subject. 69 The state purpose in its own right remains undefined. On the one hand, Jellinek refers to the state purpose in singular and sees the state’s survival as its purpose par excellence. 70 On the other hand, he speaks of state purposes as reasonable grounds for the validity of a norm. 71 In either case, he argues, a commitment can only continue if the conditions remain unchanged; 72 a view that Erich Kaufmann later took up in his well-known writing on the clausula rebus sic stantibus. 73 In his later work on subjective public law, Jellinek varies or supplements his considerations with an approach more strongly influenced by legal doctrine. Accordingly, the basis of the legally binding nature of a strictly horizontal international agreement is the mutual recognition of states. Not only their legal capacity per se rests on this but also every single rule of international law, here understood as a kind of voluntary concession. 74 Jellinek does not spell out the consequences for transactions under inter-

66 Jellinek strictly distinguished legal doctrine from the methods of other disciplines, esp. the social sciences. Nevertheless, he was interested in interdisciplinary informed legal doctrine consistent with the findings in differing fields. See Georg Jellinek: System der subjektiven öffentlichen Rechte. Freiburg i. Br. 1892, pp. 13–20; Idem: Staatslehre (note 60), pp. 50–52; see Jens Kersten: Georg Jellinek und die klassische Staatslehre. Tübingen 2000, pp. 147–150; Christoph Möllers criticizes Jellinek. See Christoph Möllers: Staat als Argument. Munich 2000, pp. 14–17. 67 See Jellinek (note 65), pp. 33, 36 sq. 68 See ibid., p. 37; Martti Koskenniemi: The Gentle Civilizer of Nations. The Rise and Fall of International Law 1870–1960. Cambridge 2002, pp. 200–206; Jochen von Bernstorff: Georg Jellinek and the Origins of Liberal Constitutionalism in International Law. In: Goettingen Journal of International Law 4 (2012) No. 3, pp. 659–675, esp. pp. 669–673. 69 See Jellinek (note 65), p. 39. 70 See ibid., p. 40. 71 See ibid., p. 41. 72 See ibid., pp. 40 sq. 73 See Erich Kaufmann: Das Wesen des Völkerrechts und die clausula rebus sic stantibus. Rechtsphilosophische Studie zum Rechtsstaats- und Vertragsbegriffe. Tübingen 1911. 74 See Jellinek (note 66), pp. 299–304.

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national law in detail other than rejecting private law analogies. 75 However, since mutual recognition as a ground for the validity of international law presupposes the equality of states as well as mutual respect, 76 mutual recognition is not only the basis but also the limit of international legal obligations. 77 If one looks at the conduct of states at the end of the 19th century, Jellinek’s reconstruction of international law proves close to the practice. The notion that the commitment is limited in time and content also fits the bill of the German Empire’s power-political interest. As a “newcomer” among the European industrial nations, Germany had little to expect from the rules of general international law. After all, they seemed to protect the position of the already established powers—particularly evident in the dispute over compulsory arbitration. 78 Instead, Bismarck favored a situational alliance policy. Suppose one applies the limits of the binding effect of international law to the agreement concerning the Pergamon Altar. In that case, doubts arise whether the agreement was in conformity with an Ottoman state purpose necessary for it to be binding. Indeed, one could take the view that the Ottoman Empire thereby secured the German Empire’s goodwill and alleviated the situation of Turkish refugees. Nevertheless, not every advantage of any kind can correspond to a state purpose in Jellinek’s sense. Otherwise, treaties would only bind insofar as they are advantageous to the state, similar to modern law-and-economics approaches. 79 For Jellinek, by contrast, legal obligations depend on a question of morality; the decisive factor is conformity with objectified state purposes. Suppose Germany exploited the structural inferiority of the Ottoman Empire in the agreements in question. In that case, it seems questionable to assume such conformity as given. A number of circumstantial factors may substantiate these doubts. Given the low compensation for the cession of the third part of the finds, one could assume that the Sultan or the Ottoman government might not have known the value of the Pergamon Altar at the time. Yet, they certainly would have been in the position to determine it. At the turn of the 20th century, there was already an art market for antiquities, on which 75 See ibid., p. 307. 76 See ibid., pp. 302 and 305. 77 Significantly, Jellinek repeats in detail the purpose orientation of the state and its activity at the beginning of this publication. See ibid., p. 25. 78 See Philipp Zorn: Das Deutsche Reich und die internationale Schiedsgerichtsbarkeit. Festrede, gehalten bei Übernahme des Rektorates der Universität Bonn am 18. Oktober 1910 und durch Anmerkungen erweitert. Berlin 1911, pp. 22 and 25. 79 See Jack L. Goldsmith, Eric A. Posner: The Limits of International Law. Oxford 2005.

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various museums stocked up their collections. 80 Exhibitions such as the 1874 World’s Fair in Vienna or the 1883 International Colonial and Export Exhibition in Amsterdam were particularly important for this market. 81 However, the sale of the Pergamon Altar was agreed upon before Osman Hamdi Bey’s time and the Imperial Museum’s opening. In this phase, the legal rules regarding antiquities were still handled very loosely. Supposedly, the understanding of art on the Ottoman side didn’t equal the identityconstituting significance of antiquity for European imperialism. On the other hand, the 20,000 gold marks represented only part of the German Empire’s engagement. Mind Germany’s diplomatic assistance at the Congress of Berlin, which was directly related. Compared with the Treaty of San Stefano concluded with Russia in 1878, the Treaty of Berlin reached a more favorable settlement for the Ottoman Empire, even though it also included territorial losses. 82 In any case, one cannot judge the deal without considering the Ottoman Empire’s economic situation at the time. The Ottoman Empire was facing financial shambles. Starting in 1854, in the course of the Crimean War, it had for the first time taken on foreign debt in the form of loans, primarily from French and British banks. The Ottoman Empire ceded Egyptian tribute payments as collateral for the first loan. 83 The French or British government mostly guaranteed later loans. 84 As early as 1855, a FrancoBritish commission attempted to control Ottoman government spending in return, especially in light of the widespread belief that the Sultan was prone to profligacy. 85 Subsequently, the national debt increased rapidly. The reasons were manifold. The Ottoman Empire’s political and military problems contributed as much as the utterly exaggerated growth expectations of foreign creditors at the beginning. The latter’s disappointment, also due to irregularities on the part of a French intermediary, led to a rapid deterioration of refinancing conditions. 86 Extensive customs privileges for Europeans further burdened the revenue situation. The Ottoman Empire

80 See H. Glenn Penny: Objects of Culture. Ethnology and Ethnographic Museums in Imperial Germany. Chapel Hill etc. 2002, pp. 57 sq. 81 See ibid., p. 60. 82 See esp. Schalles (note 52), pp. 13–15; Kästner (note 48), p. 333. 83 See Olive Anderson: Great Britain and the Beginnings of the Ottoman Public Debt, 1854–55. In: Historical Journal 7 (1964) No. 1, pp. 47–63, esp. p. 50. 84 See Roger Owen: The Middle East in the World Economy 1800–1914. London etc. 1981, p. 101. 85 See Edhem Eldem: Ottoman Financial Integration with Europe. Foreign Loans, the Ottoman Bank and the Ottoman Public Debt. In: European Review 13 (2005), pp. 431–445, esp. p. 435. 86 See ibid., pp. 436 sq.

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eventually tried to cover due installments with new loans—a sign of a vicious circle in fiscal policy. 87 As a result, the Sublime Porte had been unable to service its debts since 1875 88 and was confronted with a rapidly worsening political and economic situation. Sultan Abdulaziz had to resign, and his successor Murad V lasted only three months on the throne. His successor, Abdul Hamit II, attempted to gain ground domestically and externally by adopting the constitution of 1876. In the following year, however, he faced an attack by Russia. Due to the conflict’s impact on the state’s liquidity, the Ottoman Empire owed salary payments to its officials and officers and tried to make ends meet by printing money. In addition, missed payments to domestic creditors threatened to cause a collapse of the domestic financial sector, which was finally averted as late as 1879. 89 In 1881, the Empire reached a compromise with the creditors, but it came at a price. The Muharram decree established the Ottoman Public Debt Administration with the support of the major foreign-controlled banks. With time, the institution acquired extensive financial policy powers and developed more and more in the direction of a colonial administration. 90 To deny a state in great difficulty the ability to conclude an international treaty would certainly not be a welcome emancipatory step forward from a postcolonial perspective. But the Ottoman Empire had its back to the wall financially, politically, and militarily at the time of the agreement on the Pergamon Altar. One may therefore wonder what measure of free will remained to the Empire. Jellinek’s recourse to state purposes attempts to objectify the answer and to link it to questions of morality. It isn’t easy to judge whether it was expedient, reasonable, or even morally justified to give away unique art treasures—assets of identity-constituting value for the society of origin – 91 for short-term advantages. An analogy to modern sovereign debt law seems helpful: The “voluntary” character of today’s debtor states’ commitments to reforms vis-à-vis lenders such as the International Monetary Fund to obtain fresh money is a debatable 87 See Owen (note 84), pp. 105 sq.; Refiî S¸. Suvla: Debts during the Tanzimat Period. In: Charles P. Issawi (Ed.): The Economic History of the Middle East 1800–1914. A Book of Readings. Chicago etc. 1966, p. 101. 88 See Christopher Clay: Gold for the Sultan. Western Bankers and Ottoman Finance, 1856–1881. London and New York 2000. 89 See Eldem (note 85), p. 441. 90 See Suvla (note 87), pp. 102 sq.; Owen (note 84), pp. 192–200. 91 “In Turkey, one may understand something as part of Aegean art assumedly characterized by the mutual interpenetration of different cultures that [. . . ] may appear Greek Hellenistic from a Central European point of view.” Jayme (note 53), p. 205. In this respect, a return to Greece is out of the question. For a differing view, see Gornig (note 53), p. 94.

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point. 92 Significantly, the corresponding memoranda of understanding that lay down the conditions for reform—which may include the sale of state property—are only soft laws. The methodology outlined in the previous section thus reveals at least certain inconsistencies regarding Germany’s legal position that German authors almost unanimously claim as unambiguously in favor of Germany. However, the findings do not confirm a concrete entitlement to restitution. The international law of the time is not comparable to today’s (private) contract law, neither in terms of its degree of obligation nor its definiteness. In effect, this eventually does yield room for negotiations. 93

3.2 The Bust of Nefertiti a) Context of the Find

Egypt had been a province of the Ottoman Empire since 1517. In the 19th century, Egyptian governors successfully sought greater autonomy from the Sublime Porte in exchange for high tribute payments. 94 Egypt retained this status until 1914. Under international law, it was a semisovereign (suzerain) territory whose ruler, the khedive, had only limited external sovereignty. 95 From 1867, the Turkish khedive had hereditary status, the privilege to lead an army, take out loans, and conclude certain agreements with foreign states. 96 Despite its formal affiliation with the Ottoman Empire, Egypt increasingly came under British de facto control during the 19th century due to rising substantial national debts. 97 Egypt’s modernization efforts and the cost-intensive construction of the Suez Canal—including Egypt’s obligation to pay high penalties to its French partners—had a decisive impact in this respect. Additionally, among other

92 See Armin von Bogdandy, Matthias Goldmann: Die Restrukturierung von Staatsschulden als Ausübung internationaler öffentlicher Gewalt. Zur Möglichkeit der inkrementellen Entwicklung eines Staateninsolvenzrechts. In: Zeitschrift für ausländisches öffentliches Recht und Völkerrecht 73 (2013), pp. 61–104. 93 We won’t address questions of forfeiture in this contribution. However, there is no statute of limitations in international law. And international law recognizes usucaption only in the case of territorial claims. 94 See Wolfgang J. Mommsen: Imperialismus in Ägypten. Der Aufstieg der ägyptischen nationalen Bewegung 1805–1956. Saarbrücken 1961, pp. 9–12. 95 See Lawrence (note 11), p. 68; John Bassett Moore. A Digest of International Law. Washington 1906, p. 27, see also Franz von Holtzendorff: Handbuch des Völkerrechts auf Grundlage europäischer Staatspraxis. Berlin 1887, p. 100. 96 See Lawrence (note 11), p. 72; Moore (note 95), p. 28. 97 See ibid.

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things, with the end of the American Civil War in 1865, revenues from cotton exports collapsed abruptly. 98 As a result, Egypt’s financial situation deteriorated rapidly, leading to a debt rescheduling between 1876 and 1880 after protracted negotiations marked by Franco-British conflicts of interest. As a consequence, Egypt lost control of much of its government revenue and infrastructure. 99 An increasing number of European officials made their mark on the Egyptian administration. 100 In mid-1882, Britain took anti-European riots as an opportunity to occupy Egypt militarily. 101 Britain decided all major issues from then on, although the Egyptian government remained formally in office. 102 International control over Egypt’s finances remained in place. 103 Egypt was therefore under British occupation at the time of the excavation and division of the Nefertiti find. According to Article 42 of the 1907 Hague Regulations concerning the Laws and Customs of War on Land, a territory is considered occupied when it is actually in the power of the enemy’s armed forces 104—and the provision also applies to semi-sovereign domains. 105 Even at the beginning of the 20th century, a declaration of war was no longer an issue. 106 It was not until 1914 that Great Britain proclaimed an Egyptian protectorate and replaced the “khedivate” with a sultanate. 107 Egypt gained independence in 1922. 108 The discovery of the bust of Nefertiti, Pharaoh Akhenaten’s wife and presumed co-regent, 109 coincides with the occupation. The Berlin merchant and patron of the German Oriental Society, James Simon, received 98 See Horst Feldmann: Internationale Umschuldungen im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert. Eine Analyse ihrer Ursachen, Techniken und Grundprinzipien. Berlin 1991, pp. 104– 111. 99 See ibid., pp. 111–121. 100 See ibid., p. 133. 101 See Mommsen (note 94), pp. 76–84. 102 See David Gillard et al.: The Ottoman Empire, Arabia and the Gulf. British Strategic Interests, 1885–1907. Maryland 1984, p. xviii and passim. 103 See Feldmann (note 98), p. 134. 104 The Hague conventions and declarations of 1899 and 1907, ed. by James Brown Scott Contains. New York, Oxford 1915. 105 See von Liszt (note 58), p. 216. 106 See Henry Wheaton: Elements of International Law. London and New York 1878, pp. 355; see additionally von Liszt (note 58), p. 211; Moore (note 95), p. 275. 107 See Proclamation of British Protectorate over Egypt. Message to Prince Hussein Kamel, Reference FO 891/12; see Malcolm McIlwraith: The Declaration of Protectorate in Egypt and Its Legal Effects. In: Journal of the Society of Comparative Legislation 17 (1917), pp. 238–259. 108 See Albert P. Blaustein, Jay Sigler, Benjamin R. Beede: Independence Documents of the World, Vol. 1. New York 1977, p. 204. 109 See Wolfgang Boochs: Streitobjekt Nofretete. Botschafterin oder Gefangene? Aachen 2012, pp. 15–40.

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an excavation concession for the area of Akhetaton from the Department of Antiquities for the years 1911 to 1914. 110 On December 6, 1912, the German archaeologist Ludwig Borchardt discovered the bust of Nefertiti at Tel el-Amarna, on the east bank of the Nile, about 312 kilometers south of Cairo. When dividing the find, the Inspector of the Department of Antiquities awarded the bust of Nefertiti to the excavators. Simon donated it to the German state in 1920. 111 Belatedly presented to the public in 1924, the bust immediately caused tensions with France. Today the Nefertiti bust is in the Berlin Neues Museum and has been officially reclaimed by Egypt for several years. b) An Error or an Acquisition without Legal Basis?

One can question the bust’s acquisition in two respects. For one, the find division has raised many questions in retrospect. Since previous scholarship has discussed the questions at length already, we cannot add new details to the picture but provide an overview of the state of research in the following. The November 17, 1891 decree regulated ownership of archaeological finds in Egypt. In force until 1912, the decree stated all objects found belonged to the state and set the Giza Museum as the obligatory depository (see article 2). The government could leave part of the finds to the excavators in consideration of their expenses (see article 3). In that case, the first step was dividing the find into two parts of equal value; next, the lot would decide ownership, or the parties concerned would do so by amicable agreement (see article 4). 112 Compared to Turkey, the rules were much more favorable to the excavators. In 1912, the British occupation regime issued a new regulation, according to which finds always had to be divided into two exactly equal halves (“à moitié exacte”), 113 intending to put a stop to the previous generous practice. 114 According to this rule, the parties involved assessed the objects resulting from the excavation that had brought Nefertiti to light and divided the finds on January 20, 1913. The Nefertiti bust, described at that time as a “colorful head of a princess,” fell to Berlin; a folding altarpiece 110 See ibid., pp. 41 sq.; John Harry Merryman, Albert E. Elsen, Stephen K. Urice: Law, Ethics and the Visual Arts. Alphen 5th ed. 2007, p. 414. 111 See Rolf Krauss: 75 Jahre Büste der NofretEte / Nefert-iti Berlin. In: Jahrbuch Preußischer Kulturbesitz 24 (1987), pp. 87–124, esp. p. 94. 112 See Decree of Nov. 17, 1891. In: Bulletin de législation et de jurisprudence égyptienne. Répertoire permanent de législation égyptienne (1944), p. 1. 113 Law No. 14, June 12, 1912, ibid., p. 2. 114 See Boochs (note 109), p. 60.

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remained in the museum in Cairo. 115 Borchardt faced accusations of having concealed the true value of Nefertiti from the inspector of the Department of Antiquities, Gustave Levèbfre, as he had indicated plaster instead of plastered limestone as the material. Moreover, the circumstances of Levèbfre’s viewing of the find had been unfavorable. 116 In any case, the agreement between Levèbfre and Borchardt did not correspond to the spirit of the new legal situation. Dissenting voices argue that the German excavators and the administration of antiquities had agreed on granting the Germans all round sculptures in the previous year. 117 Such generosity on the part of the Department of Antiquities was systematic—and in its interest. Its decisionmakers held the hope that every find that reached Europe would attract further grants. Moreover, Gaston Maspero, the longtime director of the Antiquities Administration, had attached great importance to the collector’s interest in not tearing apart coherent finds. 118 And both Maspero and the German excavators would have had a common interest in undermining the strict British rules. Besides, Borchardt may have exaggerated his negotiating skills in his reports. 119 Given the source situation, whether this particular find division violated the applicable Anglo-Egyptian legal provisions will likely remain controversial for the foreseeable future. There is, however, a second reason that plays practically no role in the current debate. One may raise far greater doubts about whether the bust’s disposition was legally valid from the perspective of international law. Did the Antiquities Authority represent Egypt effectively? In view of the British occupation, one can consider the institution a de facto body of the British government. The department’s actions would thus not be attributable to Egypt.

115 See Bénédicte Savoy (Ed.): Nofretete. Eine deutsch-französische Affäre 1912–1931. Cologne, Weimar, Vienna 2011, p. 31. 116 See Kurt G. Siehr: The Beautiful One Has Come—To Return. The Return of the Bust of Nefertiti from Berlin to Cairo. In: John H. Merryman (Ed.): Imperialism, Art and Restitution. Cambridge 2006, pp. 114–134, esp. p. 118. In 2009 documents of the German Oriental Society became known which are supposed to confirm this view: https://www.spiegel.de/international/world/archaeological-controversydidgermany-cheat-to-get-bust-of-nefertiti-a-606525.html (retrieved Jan. 10, 2020). For a detailed documentation of the events see F. Seyfried: Die Büste der Nofretete. Dokumentation des Fundes und der Fundteilung 1912/1913. In: Jahrbuch Preußischer Kulturbesitz 46 (2010), pp. 133–202. 117 See Susanne Voß, Cornelius von Pilgrim: Ludwig Borchardt und die deutschen Interessen am Nil. In: Trümpler (note 48), pp. 294–305, esp. p. 300. 118 See Savoy (note 115), pp. 19–22. 119 See ibid., p. 32.

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However, turn-of-the-century occupation law—geared to short-term (intra-European) occupations and an early restoration of sovereignty of occupied countries—did not regulate in detail the legal relations between Egypt and the occupying power, Great Britain. Generally, the few legal rules relating to occupation and the treatment of colonies and protectorates governed a prolonged military occupation. 120 Egypt did not become a British protectorate until 1914. What is more, at the time, there was already a clear distinction between occupancy for the purpose of acquiring territory or establishing a protectorate and seizure during an armed conflict. Thus, Egypt formally remained a suzerain, tributary part of the Ottoman Empire until 1914 while featuring a high degree of domestic and foreign policy autonomy. The Antiquities Administration was formally an Egyptian authority. The law of occupation at the time made no provision for the attribution of administrative acts to the occupied state and did not address any possible effects of the occupying power’s influence on decisions. Article 43 of the Hague Regulations merely obligates the occupying power to restore public order, if possible, in compliance with the laws of the land. However, recourse to the concept of the de facto organ—originating in a later era—may close the regulatory gap consistent with the legal situation at the time. According to this concept, one may attribute the actions of a country’s state organ to the state controlling the respective country and said state organ. 121 However, one detail is missing in the concept. It does not define the degree of state control required to attribute acts to the controlling state. 122 The ultimate limit is effective control, a standard set by the International Court of Justice in its Nicaragua decision in the context of state responsibility. 123 In this case, the court faced the question of whether the United States possessed the means to control the Contras’

120 The European Powers often used occupations as a form of incorporation and, thus, as a legal basis for acquiring colonies. “All territory not in the possession of states who are members of the family of nations and subjects of International Law must be considered as technically res nullius and therefore open to occupation. The rights of the natives are moral, not legal. International Law knows nothing of them, though International Morality demands that they be treated with consideration.” Lawrence (note 11), p. 146. 121 See Paolo Palchetti: De facto Organs of a State. In: Rüdiger Wolfrum (Ed.): Max Planck Encyclopedia of Public International Law 2 (2012), pp. 1048–1052. 122 See ibid., marginal no. 9. 123 See International Court of Justice: Military and Paramilitary Activities in and Against Nicaragua (Nicaragua vs. United States of America). Jurisdiction of the Court and Admissibility of the Application, Nov. 26, 1984, https://www.icj-cij.org/ public/files/ case-related/70/070-19841126-JUD-01-00-EN.pdf (retrieved Jan. 15, 2020), p. 14, marginal no. 115.

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combat operations. The context of an Antiquities Authority tasked with the division of finds is quite different. Referring to Article 4(2) of the Articles on State Responsibility, Palchetti proposes to look at the role of the respective authority within the state structure. 124 In doing so, he assumes that it would be beyond doubt whether acts of the Antiquities Authority should be assigned to Egypt or Great Britain. However, this is precisely the problem in the present case. The decisive question is what degree of control Great Britain exercised over the Antiquities Authority, or would have had to exercise, that would justify attributing its acts to the British. We cannot exhaust the topic at this point; nevertheless, it seems plausible to attribute the actions of the Department of Antiquities to Great Britain if the British government made the essential institutional, personnel, and substantive decisions equaling colonial rule. That seems to have been the case. On the initiative of individual French egyptologists, Egypt founded the Egyptian Antiquities Administration (Service des antiquités de l’Égypte) as an authority directly subordinate to the Khedive in 1858. 125 Since then and until 1952, the department heads were French nationals in the Egyptian civil service. 126 The crisis in Egyptian public finances in the second half of the 19th century consolidated French influence over the authority. 127 Beginning in 1879, French and British officials effectively shared control of the Egyptian administration. The Antiquities Administration has since been under the Ministère des travaux publics, headed by an official with French nationality. 128 However, these circumstances changed with the onset of the British occupation, resulting in a significant pushback of French influence on the Egyptian government, exempting the Antiquities Administration. 129 The events surrounding Maspero’s appointment for a second term as head of the Antiquities Authority in 1899 provide evidence of increased British influence. The British Consul General Cromer considered appointing Ludwig Borchardt as the new director to bring the Antiquities Authority under Great Britain’s control. After intervention on the part of France, he reappointed Maspero. 130 Subsequently, Maspero owed great deference to British inter-

124 See Palchetti (note 121), marginal no. 10. 125 See Elisabeth David: Der Antikendienst vor 1914. In: Trümpler (note 48), pp. 495– 503, esp. p. 497. 126 See Savoy (note 115), p. 12. 127 See Éric Gady: L’archéologie de l’Égypte antique pendant la période coloniale de l’occupation britannique à la découverte du tombeau de Toutankhamon. In: Les nouvelles de l’archéologie 126 (2011), pp. 47–50, marginal no. 3. 128 See David (note 125), p. 499. 129 The British interest in Egyptology was initially comparatively low. Ibid., pp. 500 sq. 130 See Voss, von Pilgrim (note 117), p. 296.

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ests. 131 From the accounts of contemporary witnesses, it seems evident that Cromer effectively controlled the Antiquities Authority’s management. Occasionally, other European governments succeeded in having things settled in their favor by intervening in London. 132 Finally, the Entente cordiale of 1904 guaranteed France the leadership position of the Antiquities Administration. 133 From then on, Maspero’s task was to maintain a fragile balance among the various European powers in this field. Still, he is said to have been quite successful as an internationally esteemed scholar. In this respect, generously satisfying the interests of foreign excavation companies was also a way of securing French supremacy. 134 Foreign countries showed their appreciation and showered Maspero with honors. The 1912 decree—allowing for stricter control, at least in theory—responded to what the new British Consul General Kitchener considered Maspero’s too-permissive practice. 135 Regardless of how the struggle between France and Great Britain for control of the antiquities may have played out, one thing is sure: Egypt played no role in it. The competition between European powers left no room for Egyptian interests. 136 Maspero was not interested in involving Egyptians in leading positions in the excavations. He denied them necessary competence and proper scientific interest. 137 Thus, when Egypt gained independence, there was only one Egyptian archaeologist of note—even though Egyptian Governor Muhammad Ali Pasha had already taken measures to safeguard the cultural heritage in the first half of the 19th century. 138 Under these circumstances, it seems impossible to attribute the acts of the Antiquities Administration to the Egyptian state. Instead, one should attribute the excavation permit and find division to Great Britain as the

131 On the Franco-British rivalry for leadership in the administration of antiquities, see Gady (note 127), marginal no. 9. 132 See the diary of George A. Reisner. On Dec. 8, 1913, Reisner recorded Borchardt’s designation. Borchardt was to succeed Bissing as a member of the Committee on Archaeology at the behest of London and against Cromer’s wish. See http://giza.fas. harvard.edu/diarypages/3316/full/ (retrieved March 27, 2021). 133 See David (note 125), p. 502. 134 See ibid., p. 500; Savoy (note 115), pp. 22 sq. 135 See ibid., p. 24. 136 See Susanne Voss: Die Geschichte der Abteilung Kairo des DAI im Spannungsfeld deutscher politischer Interessen, Vol. 1: 1881–1929. Rahden 2013; Maximilian Georg: La recherche commune d’une civilisation ancienne. Archéologues allemands, archéologues français et leurs ouvriers indigènes en Égypte, 1899–1914. In: Francia 42 (2015), pp. 185–206. 137 See Savoy (note 115), p. 17; Gady (note 127), marginal no. 5. 138 See ibid., marginal no. 13.

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occupying power and judge them according to the law of occupation as a field of international law. At the beginning of the 20th century, the occupying authority was already obliged to protect the occupied state’s cultural heritage. 139 The victor’s right of booty, still widely recognized in the early 19th century, had gradually ceded ground since the middle of the century due to traumatic experiences in the Napoleonic Wars, a series of campaigns bristled with looting and seizure. 140 One can interpret the occupying power’s obligation to preserve the cultural heritage as resulting from the emergence of peoples’ right to self-determination. 141 The declaration of the Brussels Conference of 1874, initiated by Tsar Alexander II, was a crucial step in this process. 142 At the time of the bust’s discovery, the Hague Regulations concerning the Laws and Customs of War on Land had been in force since 1910—and Great Britain and the German Empire were among the signatories. 143 The convention aligned the protection of any public property with the protection of private property already in force under customary law, comprehensively codified in Articles 46 and 47 of the Regulations. Article 55 states the occupying power had to restrict itself to “administrator and usufructuary” of public property and obliges the occupying authorities to maintain the existence of public property. Article 56(2) of the Hague Regulations reaffirms the customary legal rule protecting historic monuments against seizure or destruction. One can extrapolate rules for dealing with unexcavated cultural objects from these provisions. Admittedly, it may have been necessary for the occupying power to put a stop to grave robbers in the interest of protecting public property. Still, this must not amount to carrying out excavations in the occupied country’s supposed interest so that the fillet pieces of the excavation results find their way out 139 See von Liszt (note 58), p. 229; see additionally Heffter (note 11), p. 132; Doris A. Graber: The Development of the Law of Belligerent Occupation 1863–1914. A Historical Survey. New York 1949, p. 201. 140 See Johann Casper Bluntschli: Das Beuterecht im Krieg und das Seebeuterecht insbesondere. Eine völkerrechtliche Untersuchung. Nördlingen 1878, pp. 62–64, 71– 76. See additionally Gustav Däniker: Der Schutz des feindlichen Privateigentums im Landkrieg. Zurich 1922, p. 32–40; Roger O’Keefe: The Protection of Cultural Property in Armed Conflict. Cambridge 2006, p. 13. 141 See Stephan Turner: Die Zuordnung beweglicher Kulturgüter im Völkerrecht. In: Wilfried H. Fiedler (Ed.): Internationaler Kulturgüterschutz und deutsche Frage. Völkerrechtliche Probleme der Auslagerung, Zerstreuung und Rückführung deutscher Kulturgüter nach dem Zweiten Weltkrieg. Berlin 1991, pp. 21–106, esp. p. 60; Christoff Jenschke: In Kriegen erbeutet. Zur Rückgabe geraubter Kulturgüter im Völkerrecht. In: Osteuropa 56 (2006), pp. 361–370. 142 See Wayne Sandholtz: Prohibiting Plunder. How Norms Change. Oxford 2007, pp. 88 sq. 143 See The Hague conventions and declarations of 1899 and 1907 (note 104).

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of the country, circumventing the prohibition on confiscation. In general, according to Article 43 of the Hague Regulations on War on Land, the occupying power is to assist the local authorities in compliance with local laws, not vice versa. According to these considerations, it seems plausible that Great Britain violated its duty as an occupying power to protect Egypt’s cultural heritage. The excavation and find-sharing practices on the part of the Antiquities Administration were, at least, approved by the occupying regime. According to general rules of international law, one has to attribute any overstepping of authority by the formally Egyptian but de facto British official Maspero and his agency representatives to Great Britain. 144

3.3 Southwest African Art and Cultural Property a) The Legal Status of South West Africa

The background of German colonial policy is well-researched. A mixture of economic, military, and demographic factors and interests led the young German Empire to embark on an extremely bloody colonial adventure beginning in 1884. 145 South West Africa was the first protectorate to which Germany laid claim beginning in 1884 when Bismarck placed the land acquisitions of the Bremen merchant Lüderitz under the protection of the German Empire. Further protection treaties and land acquisitions followed; however, until the turn of the century, Germany was still content with a modest military and administrative presence compared to the geographical dimensions of South West Africa. As a result, the colonial power depended partly on the goodwill of traditional communities and their leaders. 146 In contrast, the German land acquisitions, both private and public, visibly restricted the local population. 147 The colonial authorities made use of all possible legal and illegal means. Ownership changes happened at times via purchase (often resulting from sheer need when local leaders had fallen into a debt trap), partly by declaring supposedly ownerless land “crown land,” and partly through armed conflict. The shortage of 144 See today’s Article 7 of the Articles Concerning State Responsibility, United Nations General Assembly Resolution 56/83 of Dec. 12, 2001. 145 See Hans-Ulrich Wehler: Bismarck und der Imperialismus. Cologne 1969. 146 See Helmut Bley: Namibia under German Rule. Münster 1996, pp. 46–49. 147 See Markus J. Jahnel: Das Bodenrecht in “Neudeutschland über See.” Erwerb, Vergabe und Nutzung von Land in der Kolonie Deutsch-Südwestafrika, 1884–1915. Berlin 2009; Goldmann (note 24).

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land available for the indigenous population formed a major factor in the outbreak of combat actions. During the warlike conflict, lasting from 1904 to 1907, the German Empire committed genocide against indigenous populations. 148 In the follow-up, the German authorities confiscated the remaining indigenous land on a large scale. Finally, they imprisoned the majority of the surviving population in concentration camps characterized by a low chance of survival for internees. According to today’s official German interpretation, all events from 1884 onward were solely internal German affairs. 149 Indeed, South West Africa had not become part of the Empire’s territory due to the provisions of the imperial constitution. However, this only had the consequence that the constitution did not apply; the land was unquestionably under the Empire’s rule. The legitimacy of German rule under international law was a controversial issue at the time. 150 In retrospect, however, these differences become blurred. Almost without exception, scholars of the field assume that Germany acquired South West Africa by occupation. 151 According to colonial international law, states could occupy and incorporate ownerless territories. 152 Any territory that did not meet Jellinek’s criteria of sovereign

148 See Joachim Zeller, Jürgen Zimmerer (Eds.): Völkermord in Deutsch-Südwestafrika. Der Kolonialkrieg (1904–1908) in Namibia und seine Folgen. Berlin 2003. 149 See Deutscher Bundestag, Wissenschaftliche Dienste: Ausarbeitung: Der Aufstand der Volksgruppen der Herero und Nama in Deutsch-Südwestafrika (1904–1908). Völkerrechtliche Implikationen und haftungsrechtliche Konsequenzen (i.e., German Bundestag, Scientific Services: Elaboration: The Revolt of the Herero and Nama Ethnic Groups in German Southwest Africa [1904–1908]. Implications under International Law and Consequences under Liability Law) (BT WD 2 3000–112/16), Sept. 9, 2016, https://www.bundestag.de/resource/blob/478060/ 28786b58a9c7ae7c6ef358b19ee9f1f0/wd-2-112-16-pdf-data.pdf (retrieved Jan. 20, 2020), p. 10 and 14. For details on the following, see Goldmann (note 20). 150 See Friedrich Schack: Das deutsche Kolonialrecht in seiner Entwicklung bis zum Weltkriege. Hamburg 1923, pp. 87–131; Norbert Berthold Wagner: Die deutschen Schutzgebiete. Erwerb, Organisation und Verlust aus juristischer Sicht. Baden-Baden 2002, pp. 104–122. The German literature on international law showed a preference for occupation in terms of sheer numbers. The French literature on international law doctrine of the same time focused on the acquisition of territory by treaty. See Charles Salomon: L’occupation des territoires sans maître. Etude de droit international (1889), reprint Vanves 2012. 151 See Jörn A. Kämmerer, Jörg Föh: Das Völkerrecht als Instrument der Wiedergutmachung? Eine kritische Betrachtung am Beispiel des Herero-Aufstandes. In: Archiv des Völkerrechts 42 (2004), pp. 294–328, esp. p. 306; Steffen Eicker: Der DeutschHerero-Krieg und das Völkerrecht. Frankfurt on the Main 2009; Tania Fabricius: Aufarbeitung von in Kolonialkriegen begangenem Unrecht. Anwendbarkeit und Anwendung internationaler Regeln des bewaffneten Konflikts und nationalen Militärrechts auf Geschehnisse in europäischen Kolonialgebieten in Afrika. Berlin 2017, pp. 199 sq. 152 See Andrew Fitzmaurice: Sovereignty, Property and Empire, 1500–2000. Cambridge 2014, pp. 215–216; Jörg Fisch: Die europäische Expansion und das Völkerrecht. Die

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statehood, i.e., did not feature a defined area and a population under unified rule, was considered “no man’s land.” 153 Suppose one applies these criteria unbiasedly, even without interpreting their meaning instructed by postcolonial theory. Even in that case, one may doubt that South West Africa was unoccupied (terra nullius) at the time. The prevailing German reading overlooks the profound transformation of social structures in the region driven by the globalization of the industrial age and colonialism. Instead of nomadic kinship groups, larger, increasingly entrenched associations formed, some in possession of enormous livestock, and stratified governance structures provided organizational stability. Stabilizing settlements anchored the once migratory population territorially, even though borders were subject to constant negotiation processes. 154 One can find many indications of these processes in the vitae of leaders like the Orlam Jonker Afrikaner (| Hara-mûb), the founder of Windhoek, or Hendrik Witbooi (ǃNanseb |Gabemab), whose journals form an invaluable source on the pre-colonial and early colonial Southwest African region today. 155 Another example is the long-time opponent of Jonker Afrikaner, the Paramount Chief of the Herero, Maharero kaTjamuaha. Dismissing these groups as nomads without government, citizenship, or territory merely perpetuates the ignorance of the colonists of the time. As has been said above, it is irrelevant whether a polity could be considered “civilized” for their recognition under international law. 156 Thus, there is a good case to assume the German Empire could only base its rule over South West Africa on protective treaties of constitutive importance that the Empire concluded with traditional leaders, subject to the limits defined in these treaties. Insofar as no treaties were signed, the German presence was probably not in accordance with international law.

153 154

155 156

Auseinandersetzungen um den Status der überseeischen Gebiete vom 15. Jahrhundert bis zur Gegenwart. Wiesbaden 1984, pp. 287–290. See Jellinek (note 60), p. 173. See Dag Henrichsen: Herrschaft und Alltag im vorkolonialen Zentralnamibia. Das Herero- und Damaraland im 19. Jahrhundert. Basle, Windhoek 2011; Reinhart Kößler: Streben nach Heimat und Freiheit. Zur Territorialisierung von Ethnizität in Süd- und Zentralnamibia. In: Peripherie 27 (2007), pp. 393–410; Theo Sundermeier: Die Mbanderu. Studien zu ihrer Geschichte und Kultur. Gütersloh 1977. See Hendrik Witbooi: Afrika den Afrikanern! Aufzeichnungen eines Nama-Häuptlings aus der Zeit der deutschen Eroberung Südwestafrikas 1884 bis 1894, ed. by Wolfgang Reinhard. Rostock 1982. See above, our remarks near note 27.

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b) The Padrão of Cape Cross

In search of a route to India, Portuguese conquerors erected stone crosses at strategic locations along the African coast from Congo to South Africa between 1480 and 1520. 157 The stone crosses, also called padrões, served as a mark of ownership that the territories were part of the Portuguese Empire, a landmark for ships that later passed by, and a symbol of Christianity. 158 In 1486, the Portuguese navigator Diogo Cão erected a heraldic column topped off with a cross on the site now called Cape Cross in Namibia. 159 In 1893 the column was dismantled by German sailors and two years later replaced by a replica. Reproductions of the original Latin and Portuguese inscriptions and the Portuguese coat of arms adorned the replica. Stone carvers had added an imperial eagle and an inscription in German. 160 At first, the original column went to Kiel in 1893, then to the Berlin Museum of Oceanography in 1901, and finally to the Museum of German History in East Berlin in 1952, meanwhile absorbed into the German Historical Museum (i.e., Deutsches Historisches Museum). 161 The Cape Cross column represents one of the few surviving signs of Namibia’s early colonial relationships and, thus, has special historical significance. 162 Namibia demanded its return as early as 1990. In June 2017, another official demand for restitution resulted in the German government accepting the claim. The museum decided in May 2019 to return the column to the Namibian government 163 and followed through in November 2019.

157 See Wilhelm Kalthammer: Die Portugiesenkreuze in Afrika und Indien. Eine umfassende Darstellung aller von den portugiesischen Entdeckern Diogo Cão, Bartolomeo Dias und Vasco da Gama errichteten Steinkreuze (Padrões), deren Geschichte und deren Nachbildungen. Basle 1984, p. 9. See also the contribution by Lukas H. Meyer to this volume. 158 See Dawid W. Krynauw: Das Kreuzkap. Windhoek 1970, p. 13. 159 See Ernst G. Jacob: Das portugiesische Kolonialreich. Leipzig 1940, p. 9. 160 See Kalthammer (note 157), p. 36. 161 See Deutsches Historisches Museum: Die Wappensäule von Cape Cross, https://www. dhm./blog/2018/06/06/geschichten-aktuell-die-wappensaeule-von-cape-cross-dreilaender-drei-geschichten-eine-vergangenheit/ (retrieved Febr. 15, 2021). 162 See Birgit Rieger: Die Säule von Cape Cross geht zurück nach Namibia. In: Tagesspiegel, May 17, 2019, https://www.tagesspiegel.de/kultur/rueckgabe-vonkolonialobjekt-diesaeule-von-cape-cross-geht-zurueck-nach-namibia/24355024. html (retrieved Jan. 15, 2020). 163 See Pressemitteilung des Deutschen Historisches Museums, May 17, 2019, https:// www.dhm.de/fileadmin/medien/relaunch/presse/presseinformationen/Pressemel dungen_ /190517_PM_Rueckgabe_Die_Saeule_von_Cape_Cross_DHM.pdf (retrieved Jan. 15, 2020).

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In connection with the 2017 restitution demand, the German Historical Museum organized a symposium that addressed the issue of restitution of colonial objects in general and the column in particular. Among other things, the panel discussed possible legally effective reasons for restitution, and attendees re-issued the view that the current law does not offer any solutions due to the intertemporal principle. 164 There is reason to doubt this. We have no evidence of purchase regarding the Cape Cross column, nor did the local population cede it in any way to anybody. Cape Cross is the headland of an arid, extremely sparsely populated section of the Skeleton Coast, which was, nevertheless, used by the Nama in the 19th century. 165 The territory in question was represented in colonial times as belonging to the Deutsche Kolonialgesellschaft für Südwestafrika or DKGSWA (i.e., German Colonial Company for Southwest Africa), which in this respect based its rights on the treaty of June 19, 1885, between Lüderitz and the Nama captain Cornelius Zwartboy. 166 According to this contract, Zwartboy sold Lüderitz a vast area on the Namibian west coast from the Omaruru River, somewhat north of Swakopmund, to the Kunene River, today’s border between Namibia and Angola. However, the sold territory was not under the rule or ownership of Zwartboy. A short time after Lüderitz and Zwartboy had signed the contract, the Topnaar leader Jan Uixamab “joined” the agreement. The Imperial Commissioner of German South West Africa, Heinrich Ernst Göring, also expressed reservations and pointed to the Herero and Damara possessions. Moreover, fundamental doubts—also raised at the time of closing—concern the validity of such treaties, among other things, with reference to the European concept of property, which was foreign to the traditional groups, and the apparent disproportion between the respective contracted benefits. 167 Thus, one can assume that the DKGSWA did not effectively acquire parts of the designated area since neither Zwartboy nor Uixamab could alienate the territory. Moreover, the content and scope of the contractual assignments provided a topic for long-standing disputes—quite likely related to the con-

164 See Schönberger (note 3). 165 See Felix Schürmann: Der graue Unterstrom. Walfänger und Küstengesellschaften an den tiefen Stränden Afrikas (1770–1920). Frankfurt on the Main 2017, pp. 98–103. 166 See Hermann Hesse: Die Landfrage und die Frage der Rechtsgültigkeit der Konzessionen in Südwestafrika. Ein Beitrag zur wirtschaftlichen und finanziellen Entwickelung des Schutzgebietes, Vol. 2. Jena 1906, pp. 202 sq. 167 On the colonists’ point of view, see Herbert Jäckel: Die Landgesellschaften in den deutschen Schutzgebieten. Denkschrift zur Kolonialen Landfrage. Jena 1909, pp. 31– 37.

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tract’s wording. According to Zwartboy, the contract reserved him “[his] and his people’s private [property] rights.” 168 Other agreements of the DKGSWA include similar clauses. The wording introduces a distinction; however, the reference point is undefined. The clause differentiates either between personal property and common property or between private property and public sovereignty. In a letter of 1887, the imperial government apparently assumed that Lüderitz or the DKGSWA had also acquired sovereign rights. 169 Markedly, this view differed from the government’s 1883 position regarding Lüderitz’s first contract with Joseph Fredericks. 170 In colonial times, however, it was predominantly assumed that the DKGSWA acquired only private property and that the Empire had to acquire territorial sovereignty through occupation or protection treaties separate from commercial treaties with the leaders of traditional communities. 171 As far as is known, however, the Empire did not conclude a protection treaty with Zwartboy or Uixamab. 172 Since we can rule out lawful occupation as a justification for acquisition, German rule over Cape Cross must be classified as contrary to international law. The German Empire had no capacity to seize the column of Cape Cross by any act of public authority. The fact that the museum returned the column without proof of a legal obligation is gratifying. Besides, the returning party also rejects the objection that the column does not qualify as a cultural asset for Namibians because the Portuguese erected it. The column is a prime symbol of colonial injustice, and the Namibian society can use it to foster an understanding of the Namibian history amongst their people. In the end, the highly symbolic column may very well assume an identity-forming function. 173

168 Hesse (note 166). 169 See Karl von Stengel: Die deutschen Schutzgebiete, ihre rechtliche Stellung, Verfassung und Verwaltung. Munich etc. 1895, p. 149. 170 See Wagner (note 150), pp. 70 sq. 171 See Hesse (note 166), pp. 82–85; Jäckel (note 167), p. 32. 172 See Hermann Hesse: Die Schutzverträge in Südwestafrika. Ein Beitrag zur rechtsgeschichtlichen und politischen Entwicklung des Schutzgebietes. Jena 1905, p. 9. 173 See Lukas H. Meyer: Gerechtigkeit in der Zeit. Normative Überlegungen zur Rückforderung von Objekten aus der Kolonialzeit. Vortrag auf dem Symposium “Die Säule von Cape Cross” im Deutschen Historischen Museum, June 7, 2018, https:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=RO2Z-VfGnig&list=PLh9k12uREKY30vmNT_BxBe qinHULP4pAQ (retrieved Jan. 20, 2020). See additionally Meyer’s contribution to this volume.

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c) The Witbooi Bible and Whip

German troops captured the Bible and whip of Hendrik Witbooi at the Hornkranz Massacre in 1893. Witbooi concluded a protection treaty with the German Empire as late as 1894. 174 In 1902, the Stuttgart Linden Museum received both objects as a donation. In 2013, the Namibian government officially requested restitution from the federal state of Baden-Württemberg; the state government decided in the affirmative and returned both objects in February 2019. Although already settled, the claim points to the still unsolved question of the legal situation, which could be relevant for other objects. Part of the question is what kind of statute the affected area was subject to at the time of the Hornkranz Massacre. Following the majority of the scholarly literature, one can assume that Germany had occupied the area at the time of the events; consequently, the ownership of the objects is governed by private law. While the German Empire explicitly regulated the ownership of immovable property in the protectorates, 175 the status of the movable property remained unregulated. Moreover, different legal regimes applied in principle to “whites” and “non-whites.” 176 For legal relations between “whites” and “non-whites,” the law of the traditional communities (the “non-whites”) applied as lex rei sitae as long as it had not been explicitly derogated. If German law was more favorable, the authorities should use the latter. 177 It is difficult to determine the state of local law of the traditional communities at that time. However, if one assumes the applicability of German or Prussian law based on the favorability test, taking away the objects was illegal. Even if the Empire had had claims against Henrik Witbooi due to the dispute, the German Protection Force would not have been allowed to remove objects from his property according to the General State Laws for the Prussian States (§§ 22 sq.). A formal expropriation did not happen. However, the question of the statute of limitations arises, at least for the period from Namibia’s independence, which effectively enabled the assertion of the claim in the first place. If one follows our line of argument and rejects a lawful occupation, Witbooi would have had to be treated as an opposing armed force member until the treaty of protection was closed. The Hague Regulations concerning

174 175 176 177

See Hesse (note 172), p. 48. See von Stengel (note 169), pp. 186–188. See Jahnel (note 147), pp. 90–96. See Louis Pink, Georg Hirschberg, Johannes Gerstmeyer: Das Liegenschaftsrecht in den deutschen Schutzgebieten, Vol. 1. Berlin 1912, p. 33.

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the Laws and Customs of War on Land came into force not until 1910. Nevertheless, it is disputable whether the international law of booty still applied under customary law at that time. The 1863 Lieber Code protected the private property of the population in occupied territories but made an exception in justified cases for property taken away to punish the owner. 178 Besides, Witbooi would have to be considered a sovereign, thus enjoying special protection in personam, including his family. 179 The draft convention of the 1874 Brussels Conference, which, admittedly, was never ratified, forbade the plundering and confiscation of private property. Similarly, Prussian and German law at the time in question criminalized plunder. 180 Even if one “provincializes” the European application of international law, calls into question the laws’ claim to universal validity, and focuses instead on the wartime customs of traditional communities, a right to seizure cannot be readily constructed. Indeed, there was a practice at the time that the victorious party took away the letters of defeated enemies for espionage reasons. 181 Still, the extent to which this practice corresponded to a normative conviction is not documented. In any case, the protection treaty made no provision regarding the seized items, which would have authorized unlawful seizing afterward. Thus, concerning the restitution, Baden-Württemberg followed a moral and, in all likelihood, a legal obligation.

4 Restitution Policy between the Conflicting Notions of Self-Attribution and Attribution by Others The ambivalence of the respective acquisition titles unites the examples above. This ambivalence is characteristic of German colonial law 182 and reflects the contradictions in the state and society of the imperialist age. Since the founding of the German Empire, a formal concept of the rule of law had been gaining ground, encompassing more and more areas of state action and becoming an essential component of the legitimation of 178 See Graber (note 139), p. 193. See additionally our remarks in the passages near note 140. 179 See Graber (note 139), pp. 195 sq. 180 See ibid., pp 198–200. 181 See Dag Henrichsen: “Iss Worte!” Anmerkungen zur entstehenden afrikanischen Schriftkultur im vorkolonialen Zentralnamibia. In: Laurence Marfaing, Brigitte Reinwald (Eds.): Afrikanische Beziehungen, Netzwerke und Räume. Münster and Hamburg 2001, pp. 329–338. 182 See Goldmann (note 24).

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state rule. The rule of law was a necessary legitimizing construct of the Empire, which had no robust structures of democratic participation to absorb the manifold internal tensions, be they economic, social, regional, or confessional. 183 In any case, the German Empire lacked the traditional anchoring of local or regional territorial rule. On the other hand, the state formed—the construction of an endorsing history included – 184 the material basis and ideal foundation for an economic and cultural expansionist drive, which was linked not least to the hope of reducing the aforementioned internal tensions. 185 The rule of law and expansion were on a collision course. Colonial law was supposed to be equally effective in legitimizing expansion and providing a substitute for the question of self-determination. Even the latter was at least latently present in the colonial context. The conflicting intentions were bound to result in ambivalences or paradoxes. These obstacles are more than signs of a bumpy beginning of German expansion; they are inherent in the role colonial law fulfilled for Germany. In the course of today’s restitution debate, considering these ambivalences and contradictions may provide a particular counterweight to the power imbalances that continue to exist between the countries of possession and the countries of origin. The consideration counteracts the reproduction of long-established justifying narratives, which correspond in their selectivity to the ambivalence of colonial law. The German side needs to break through these narratives, as they threaten to undermine the purposes of restitution efforts by reaffirming colonial patterns. At last, the highly divergent treatment of the four cultural objects discussed—two from the Levant and two from the Southwest African region—points to a problematic undercurrent. While the German title of acquisition (notwithstanding existing uncertainties) is subject to serious doubt in all four cases, the responsible actors in Germany have fulfilled their presumed obligations of restitution towards Namibia. However, they are not prepared to restitute the Pergamon Altar or the Nefertiti bust. Honi soit qui mal y pense. Is it possible, or even plausible, that restitution gets difficult precisely when, at one or the other point in time, 183 See Hans-Ulrich Wehler: Deutsche Gesellschaftsgeschichte, Vol. 3. Munich 1995, pp. 493–503, 700–705, and 889–896; Jürgen Osterhammel: Die Verwandlung der Welt: Eine Geschichte des 19. Jahrhunderts. Munich 2010, pp. 570–586, esp. p. 583; Wolfgang Reinhard: Die Unterwerfung der Welt: Globalgeschichte der Europäischen Expansion 1415–2015. Munich 2016, pp. 928–931 and 944–949; Michael Stolleis: Geschichte des öffentlichen Rechts in Deutschland, Vol. 2. Munich 1992, pp. 341–348 and 371–376. On the absorbent capacity of law, see Max Weber: Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft. Tübingen 5th ed. 1972, pp. 124–126. 184 See Osterhammel (note 184), p. 609. 185 See Wehler (note 184), pp. 980–985.

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cultural appropriation was the case on the German side? And what if this cultural appropriation is the flip side of a practice of “othering,” of attributing oneself and others? The conduct is highly dubious and calls for urgent reconsideration. The prevailing perception of cultural objects from the Mediterranean and the Middle East makes them a part of Western culture. 186 On the other hand, no one consciously or unconsciously considers objects from southern Africa as part of German identity; they are considered as contrasting foils in a process of “othering.” A late reflex actuated by the hierarchies inherent in the concept of civilization, besides its fatal consequences for international law? 187 A cognitive and mental distortion inherited from colonial times? The respective conduct seems unavoidable when “exotic” cultural property receives special treatment in separate museums for “ethnology” while showcasing the Pergamon Altar and Nefertiti marks the center of the center of power. At this point, no shift in the discourse toward cultural world heritage will help. For one, such a demand would compete with the claims of the societies of origin. 188 What’s more, it thwarts the efforts to overcome the past’s patterns of action by unilaterally universalizing a legal framework like it once happened regarding the European notions of international law. Therefore, a restitution policy with vision must go hand in hand with an intensive questioning of established cultural practices. 189 The current context offers more than enough reason for doing so. The decline of the West as a reasonably cohesive geopolitical entity and the shift of economic heavyweight from the North Atlantic to the Asian region, including imminent severe social consequences, requires the former colonial states to rethink their role in the world. Properly understood, such an impulse creates ample scope for critical reflection on how to access cultural assets. The established practice served at least as much to justify imperial power and to ward off the insecurities of nineteenth-century Western societies concerning modernity as the often-cited conservational purpose. 190

186 See Savoy (note 115), p. 18; Shaw (note 41), p. 38. 187 See note 156; on these hierarchical gradations in the context of German colonialism, see George Steinmetz: The Devil’s Handwriting. Precoloniality and the German Colonial State in Qingdao, Samoa, and Southwest Africa. Chicago 2008. 188 See Ana F. Vrdoljak: Indigenous Peoples, World Heritage, and Human Rights. In: International Journal of Cultural Property 25 (2018), pp. 245–281. 189 See Sven Schütze: Ambivalent Futures. On the Restitution of Objects and White Innocence. In: Völkerrechtsblog, Sept. 21, 2018, DOI: 10.17176/20180924-095721-0. 190 See Margarita Díaz-Andreu: A World History of Nineteenth-Century Archaeology. Nationalism, Colonialism and the Past. Oxford 2008, p. 211.

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The intertemporal principle, too, was and is in the latter tradition; in a sense, it is the Pergamon Museum of international law. However, law, past and present, is chronically ambivalent and contested. Still, this ambivalent quality opens the law to new social self-understandings. Legal provenance research can therefore provide a practical starting point for restitution debates. At best, it proves to be a faithful companion of society in former empires on their way to themselves.

Judith Hackmack, Wolfgang Kaleck

Why Restitutions Matter A Legal Reasoning

1 Introduction Emmanuel Macron described French colonialism in his 2017 Algiers speech as a “crime contre l’humanité [. . . et] vraie barbarie,” 1 a crime against humanity and true barbarism. Much has happened since this statement by the French President. After successful returns from France, Germany handed over the first set of Benin Bronzes to Nigeria at the end of 2022. The trip of the German delegation as well as the public comments of the minister of foreign affairs, who headed the delegation, indicate a paradigmatic change in the German politics of restitution. Still, we should not forget the arduous process preceding these returns nor lose the remaining challenges from sight, which are related to the involvement of the formerly colonized states and the affected communities, among other things. Three years after it was written, this article is now published again in an English version, thanks to a comprehensive effort of the team of editors. The political and legal developments 2 since the German publication would meanwhile merit a new paper with the heading “how to restitute.” While we have added select references here and there in the text, providing a comprehensive update would go beyond the limits of this English translation. Notwithstanding, we think the underlying assessments have not lost much relevance. Many contributions to the debate on how to deal with “collections from colonial contexts” have lost sight of the above-mentioned starting 1 Emmanuel Macron: La colonisation est un crime contre l’humanité. In: Libération, Febr. 15, 2017. The authors thank Friederike Pöschl and Gwinyai Machona for background research regarding the article’s topics. 2 For examples, see the online symposium: Restitution, Colonialism and the Courts, Dec. 2022, https://verfassungsblog.de/category/debates/restitution-colonialism-andthe-courts-debates/ (retrieved Jan. 9, 2023).

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point: the classification of colonialism as a crime against humanity. Still, too few debaters name the colonization processes’ unjust and violent character and the causal connection between injustice and the acquisition of the disputed cultural assets sufficiently straightforward. And the debate contributions addressing legal aspects are no exceptions in this regard. Nevertheless, colonialism meant violence and injustice, especially from a legal perspective. Legal systems—also retrospectively—have mechanisms for sanctioning and redressing injustice of the category in question here. Why is the injustice in the case of colonialism treated differently? We want to avoid foregrounding the legal aspects of coming to terms with colonialism in general and the restitution of art and cultural assets in particular in this article. However, up to now, lawyers have mostly stood in the way of reappraisal and restitution, sometimes with bureaucratic attitudes. We are therefore concerned with removing obstacles barring the way for a constructive debate. Felwine Sarr and Bénédicte Savoy rightly point out that the restitution of looted objects cannot compensate for the loss since “not only objects were withdrawn, but also energy reserves, creative resources, reservoirs of potential, forces for generating alternative forms and structures of the real, assets of cultural fertileness.” 3 Solutions, in the sense of healing processes, remain necessarily “incomplete” if “linked to a process of reparation for the communities affected by the loss of their cultural heritage when [the process relies] exclusively on the recognition of the injustice inflicted by the other.” Sarr and Savoy call for “a process of self-rescue,” in some form of selfhealing through a reappraisal of one’s own history. 4 Indeed, there is every reason, so our argument, for coming to terms with the past on both sides, i.e., also in the former colonial states. In the considerations below, we follow that line of argument without claiming to “repair” the injustice that has had material and traumatic effects up to the present generation. One reason jurists, in particular, find it difficult to deal with these problems is that colonial influences also fundamentally affect today’s legal systems; hence, the pace of productive approaches directed at decolonizing the law is slow, particularly in Germany. 5 Thus, many contributions to the legal debate about restituting art and cultural assets ignore or relativize the unjust character of colonial conditions. What’s more, they

3 Felwine Sarr, Bénédicte Savoy: Zurückgeben. Über die Restitution afrikanischer Kulturgüter. Berlin 2019, p. 86. 4 See ibid., p. 88. 5 See Karina Theurer, Wolfgang Kaleck: Dekolonisierung des Rechts. Ambivalenzen und Potenzial. In: Karina Theurer, Wolfgang Kaleck (Eds.): Dekoloniale Rechtskritik und Rechtspraxis. Baden-Baden 2020, pp. 19–29.

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render sacrosanct the present-day property relations resulting from the same conditions. 6 On such bases, lawyers and museum jurists can give seemingly legally neutral reasons why the “law”—deliberately limited in scope—precludes restitution. In contrast, we want to make up leeway and discuss some fresh ideas on legal bases and possibilities of restitution. The starting point is an assessment of the underlying factual conditions—often overlooked in legal essays. Restitutions, including those of art and cultural objects from colonial contexts, are legally, politically, or morally required reactions to past violence and injustice—and they are compensation for a continuing loss. Structures (co-)shaped by colonization and postcolonial power relations both have an impact on restitution measures and determine the measures’ legitimacy. Hence, the focus of the following will not lie on the often highly controversial and detail-oriented result of who can demand the surrender of which goods and on which grounds from whom. Admittedly, it is necessary to prepare manuals on how to proceed in detail. Still, the first step towards any guidelines is to assess the legal foundation for considerations on restitution. In this respect, we call for a change in thinking, especially among jurists, and the carefully thought-out application of existing law. What concrete results the intercultural negotiation processes resulting from the entire debate will produce is another matter. For the legitimacy of these processes, however, the equal application of the legal standards in force today would be the first step and, sadly enough, would, at the same time, be essentially a novelty.

2 Restitution in Contexts of Historical Violence and Injustice Today, international criminal law, international humanitarian law, and international human rights law contain the core body of norms for dealing with mass crimes and severe or systematic violence against individuals and communities. For our topic of colonial violence and injustice, international criminal law and the body of human rights norms do not provide conclusive answers but provide some helpful standards. Historically, after national initiatives such as the U.S. Lieber Code, the Oxford Manual, and the 1874 Brussels Declaration, which, by the way, never came into force, the first international treaty to include provisions for the protection of cultural property in armed conflict was the 1899

6 For a different approach, see the contribution by Matthias Goldmann and Beatriz von Loebenstein in this volume.

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and 1907 Hague Convention on War on Land (Hague II). 7 For one, the convention ensured, via the Martens Clause, respect for “the principles of international law, as they result from the usages established between civilized nations, from the laws of humanity and the requirements of the public conscience.” For another, Art. 46 Hague II protected private property, and Art. 47 Hague II prohibited plunder. Article 56 of Hague II equaled the property of municipalities and institutions dedicated to worship, charity, education, art, and science to private property. However, Hague II did not contain any punitive provisions or guidelines on repatriation but regulated the handling of cultural and private property in armed conflicts. According to the legal opinion of the European states, the convention should apply to European states only. As interpreted by the colonial powers at the time, international law was, as postcolonial theorists have well pointed out, 8 an imperialist system that still declared raids and rapes lawful. Thus, this body of laws does not provide an appropriate starting point for an adequate approach regarding cultural property from colonial contexts. Another question, however, is how to deal with historical facts and which legal standards apply today. It should be a consensus that our present-day actions are not to be evaluated according to historical standards by invoking the intertemporal principle, according to which the applicable law is the law that applied at the time of the events in question. 9 In the following, we will draw on international criminal law and the body of human rights norms to discuss how to deal with historical facts today. In 2000, the UN Sub-Commission on the Promotion and Protection of Human Rights requested the United Nations Secretariat to identify which aspects of colonialism involved crimes against humanity and to develop a proposal to address the victims through reparation measures and commemoration. 10 The project later fell into the background, probably

7 The Hague conventions and declarations of 1899 and 1907, ed. by James Brown Scott Contains. New York, Oxford 1915. See additionally Hannes Hartung: Kunstraub in Krieg und Verfolgung. Die Restitution der Beute- und Raubkunst im Kollisions- und Völkerrecht. Berlin 2005, pp. 16–20. 8 See Antony Anghie: Imperialism, Sovereignty and the Making of International Law. Cambridge 2005, pp. 25–27. 9 See Matthias Goldmann and Beatriz von Loebenstein in this volume. 10 United Nations Sub-Commission on Human Rights: Mass and Flagrant Violations of Human Rights Which Constitute Crimes Against Humanity (UN Doc E/CN.4/SUB.2/DEC / 2000/114), Aug. 18, 2000. In: United Nations Digital Library, https://digitallibrary.un.org/record/422869 (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020).

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due to the Durban World Conference against Racism of 2001 that distinctly declared the slave trade a crime but not colonialism as such. 11 Nevertheless, the Human Rights Sub-Commission relaunched the idea in 2002, urging states to recognize their historical responsibilities stemming from colonization and to take appropriate action. 12 “Colonialism as a crime against humanity” is thus a recurring topos, for example, in a European Parliament resolution of March 26, 2019. In the—however not legally binding—resolution, the EU Parliament calls on member states to recognize their historical responsibility for past injustices and crimes against humanity, such as the transatlantic slave trade and European colonialism. 13 The mentioned examples referring to crimes against humanity lack conceptual clarity if one compares them with how this term is used in international criminal law nowadays. Undoubtedly, colonialism involved acts that, according to today’s understanding, fulfill the core elements of the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court: genocide, crimes against humanity, or war crimes. 14 These most serious crimes affect the societies of both the victims and the perpetrators and shape them for generations. 15 As the preamble states, “such grave crimes threaten the peace, security, and well-being of the world,” which is why the international community is obliged to contribute to the clearance and punishment of the crimes. Still, the Rome Statute does not apply directly to colonial situations. It focuses on the individual responsibility of perpetrators, very

11 See United Nations World Conference against Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia and Related Intolerance: Declaration and Program of Action. New York 2002, https://www.ohchr.org/Documents/Publications/Durban_text_en.pdf (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020), p. 99. 12 See United Nations Sub-Commission on Human Rights: Recognition of Responsibility and Reparation for Massive and Flagrant Violations of Human Rights Which Constitute Crimes Against Humanity and Which Took Place During the Period of Slavery, Colonialism and Wars of Conquest (UN Doc E/CN.4/SUB.2/RES/2002/5), Aug. 12, 2002, https://ap.ohchr.org/documents/E/SUBCOM/resolutions/E-CN_4SUB_2-RES-2002-5.doc (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020), No. 3. 13 European Parliament: Resolution on Fundamental Rights of People of African Descent in Europe (2018/2899[RSP]), March 26, 2019, https://www.ardi-ep.eu/resolu tionon-fundamental-rights-of-people-of-african-descent-in-europe/ (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020), No. 5. 14 See Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, July 17, 1998, https://www.icccpi.int/resource-library/documents/rs-eng.pdf (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). 15 See United Nations General Assembly: Report of the Special Rapporteur on the Promotion of Truth, Justice, Reparation and Guarantees of Non-Recurrence (UN Doc A/69/518), Oct. 14, 2014, https://www.ohchr.org/EN/ISSUES/TRUTHJUSTICE REPARATION/Pages/Index.aspx (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020), No. 7.

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few of whom are still alive, 16 and, according to the will of the signatory states, does not establish any jurisdiction of the Court for events before the Statute entered into force in 2002. From the perspective of international criminal law and the international human rights system, however, this is by no means the end of the story. The legal categories comprising the offenses of crimes against humanity, war crimes, and genocide resulted from the international community’s response to grave injustices. The most prominent example is the definition of genocide by the Polish jurist Raphael Lemkin considering the Holocaust. The recognition of apartheid as a crime against humanity has a similar genesis. In international criminal law, the general approach has been different from other areas of international law. The international community approved mechanisms created after the fact, for a particular context, and at the will of states—and, to that extent, deliberately retroactively applicable. Examples include the Nuremberg trials, the tribunals in Rwanda, Yugoslavia, and Cambodia, as well as various transitional justice mechanisms. In contrast, a legally differentiated norm that adequately and comprehensively regulates the complex injustices of colonialism is lacking. Therefore, it is necessary to fall back on the applicable categories of crime discussed here to capture at least parts of colonial injustice on legal grounds. 17 Markedly, jurists at the national level developed ways to avoid the application of outdated law that qualified as injustice by today’s standards. The Minister-President of Baden-Württemberg, Hans Filbinger, lost his office when referring to National Socialism by asserting, “What was lawful then [. . . ] cannot be unlawful today.” 18 After the Second World War, the legal scholar Gustav Radbruch developed the so-called Radbruch formula to avoid the application of National Socialist law in the Federal Republic. The formula reads: “[. . . ] when justice is not even worth striving for, when equality, which constitutes the core of justice, has been consciously denied in the making of positive law, then the law is not merely ‘incorrect’ law, rather it lacks legal nature altogether.” 19 16 The ongoing criminal investigation into the involvement of Belgian colonial officials in the assassination of Patrice Lumumba in Belgium is an exception. See Christophe Marchand, Crépine Uwashema, Christophe Deprez: Possible Impediments to Justice for Colonial Crimes. A Belgian Perspective. In: Morten Bergsmo, Wolfgang Kaleck, Kyaw Yin Hlaing (Eds.): Colonial Wrongs and Access to International Law. Brussels 2020, pp. 411–430. 17 See Wolfgang Kaleck: On Double Standards and Emerging European Custom on Accountability for Colonial Crimes. Ibid., pp. 1–40. 18 Affäre Filbinger: “Was rechtens war . . . ” In: Spiegel, May 15, 1978. 19 Gustav Radbruch: Gesetzliches Unrecht und übergesetzliches Recht. In: Süddeutsche Juristen-Zeitung 1 (1946) No. 5, pp. 105–108, p. 107.

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‘Incorrect’ law in this sense was to be applied, whereas Radbruch regarded extreme injustice created by legal means against the principle of equality as non-existent and thus inapplicable. German courts followed the Radbruch formula in their legal assessment of some National Socialist laws and, more recently, in judging the “[GDR and Berlin] wall shooters” on the innerGerman border. 20 Against this background, the question arises as to why the legal reappraisal of colonial injustice has covered no more than isolated cases so far. The time lag is no sufficient reason since most countries achieved formal decolonization as late as the 1960s or 1970s, and it would have been possible to take legal action against still-living suspects or file civil suits. Yet, there was virtually no official fact-finding, prosecution, or other judicial processes, let alone recognition, apology, punishment, or material reparation to survivors or their descendants. In the few exceptions to the rule, survivors brought cases before the courts—in the Netherlands regarding a massacre in Rawagede, Indonesia, and in the United Kingdom concerning actions against the Mau Mau in Kenya. 21 The same holds true for crimes committed after World War II. The bloody wars of liberation in Algeria, Kenya, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo resulted in crimes committed in the second half of the 20th century, i.e., well after the Nuremberg Trials. 22 Violence and injustice of the colonial period are deeply embedded in the collective memory of many postcolonial societies. With the long-term consequences typical of crimes against humanity, the descendants of the colonized are mostly alone. For a long time, the lack of reappraisal may have had a reason in the dichotomy of memory typical for contexts of mass violence: While the victims clearly remember the crimes and their consequences, the

20 See Sheila Heidt: Restitutionsbegehren bei NS-Raubkunst. Praxisleitfaden zur “Handreichung zur Umsetzung der ‘Erklärung der Bundesregierung, der Länder und der kommunalen Spitzenverbände zur Auffindung und zur Rückgabe NS-verfolgungsbedingt entzogenen Kulturgutes, insbesondere aus jüdischem Besitz.’” Berlin 2017, pp. 31–33; Bundesgerichtshof, verdict of Nov. 3, 1992, 5 StR 370/92; Bundesgerichtshof, verdict of March 20, 1995, 5 StR 111/94; Horst Dreier: Gustav Radbruch und die Mauerschützen. In: Juristenzeitung 52 (1997) No. 9, pp. 421–472. See also the contribution by Sheila Heidt to this volume. 21 For an overview, see Deutscher Bundestag, Wissenschaftliche Dienste: Sachstand: Gerichtliche und außergerichtliche Möglichkeiten der Aufarbeitung kolonialen und rassistisch motivierten Unrechts (i.e., German Bundestag, Scientific Services: Current State of Affairs: Judicial and extrajudicial possibilities of coming to terms with colonial and racially motivated injustice) (BT WD 2 3000–016/18), 8. 3. 2018, https://www. bundestag.de/resource/blob/551632/65420310d07980f241aa7ebbcefb3b81/WD-2016-18-pdf-data.pdf (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). 22 See Wolfgang Kaleck: Mit zweierlei Maß. Der Westen und das Völkerstrafrecht. Berlin 2012, pp. 32–40.

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perpetrators do not want to deal with them. 23 Due to postcolonial power imbalances, they did not have to do so for decades. Gayatri Spivak coined the term sanctioned ignorance to describe similar constellations, i.e., the de facto option to ignore non-European perspectives, seemingly without consequences. 24 Admittedly, such observations yield no normative arguments for treating colonial issues differently. At least when it comes to talking about the wrongs, some things have changed recently. Civil society initiatives have built pressure at home and abroad; hence, the German government and the federal state ministers of education and cultural affairs declare that coming to terms with colonial history is part of the fundamental democratic consensus in Germany. 25 The practical significance of such statements for the societies of both the colonizers and the colonized has yet to unfold. Still, contributions take on the major challenge of addressing the resulting negotiation processes argumentatively, as this volume proves. The legal classification of colonial violence as injustice is highly significant for these processes. In addition to and independent of the possibility of criminal prosecution, there are international standards for dealing with the most serious human rights violations. They address, in particular, the rights of victims and their relatives. The United Nations General Assembly adopted on December 16, 2005, the Basic Principles and Guidelines on the Right to a Remedy and Reparation for Victims of Gross Violations of International Human Rights Law and Serious Violations of International Humanitarian Law. 26

23 See European Parliament: Resolution on Fundamental Rights of People of African Descent in Europe (2018/2899[RSP]), 26. 3. 2019, https://www.ardi-ep.eu/resolu tionon-fundamental-rights-of-people-of-african-descent-in-europe/ (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020), No. 50. 24 See Gayatri C. Spivak: A Critique of Postcolonial Reason. Toward a History of the Vanishing Present. Cambridge 1999, pp. 2 and 164–167. 25 See Erste Eckpunkte zum Umgang mit Sammlungsgut aus kolonialen Kontexten der Staatsministerin des Bundes für Kultur und Medien, der Staatsministerin im Auswärtigen Amt für internationale Kulturpolitik, der Kulturministerinnen und Kulturminister der Länder und der kommunalen Spitzenverbände (i.e., First key points on dealing with collections from colonial contexts by the Federal Minister of State for Culture and the Media, the Federal Minister of State at the Federal Foreign Office for International Cultural Policy, the Ministers of Culture of the Länder, and the central municipal associations), March 13, 2019, https://www.kmk.org/fileadmin/ pdf/PresseUndAktuelles/2019/2019-03-25_Erste-Eckpunkte-Sammlungsgut-kolonia leKontexte_final.pdf (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). 26 United Nations General Assembly: Basic Principles and Guidelines on the Right to a Remedy and Reparation for Victims of Gross Violations of International Human Rights Law and Serious Violations of International Humanitarian Law Resolution (UN Doc A/Res/60/147), Dec. 16, 2005, https://www.ohchr.org/en/professional

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The UN Basic Principles are not legally binding but summarize binding standards arising from United Nations human rights treaties, such as Article 2 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), 27 Article 6 of the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD), 28 and Articles 9 V and 14 of the Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment (CAT). 29 In a broader sense, the keyword transitional justice captures the standards mentioned above. The UN General Secretariat has defined transitional justice as “[. . . ] the full range of processes and mechanisms associated with a society’s attempt to come to terms with a legacy of large-scale past abuses in order to ensure accountability, serve justice, and achieve reconciliation.” 30

Meanwhile, the legal debate discusses the application of these standards for historical circumstances prior to the entry into force of the international human rights conventions. 31 In individual cases, we find the standards already applied, for example, by the Mauritian Truth Commission. 32

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interest/pages/remedyandreparation.aspx (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020), adopted without a vote by the UN General Assembly. See International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), Dec. 16, 1966, https://treaties.un.org/pages/ViewDetails.aspx?src=TREATY&mtdsg_no=IV4&chapter= 4&clang=_en (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). See International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD), March 7, 1966, https://treaties.un.org/pages/ViewDetails.aspx?src= IND&mtdsg_no=IV-2&chapter=4&lang=en (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). See Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment (CAT), Dec. 10, 1984, https://treaties.un.org/Pages/ViewDetails.aspx? src=IND&mtdsg_no=IV-9&chapter=4&lang=en (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). Guidance Note of the Secretary-General: United Nations Approach to Transitional Justice, March 2010, https://www.un.org/ruleoflaw/files/TJ_Guidance_Note_March_ 2010FINAL.pdf (retrieved Apr. 21, 2020), p. 2. See United Nations General Assembly: Report of the Special Rapporteur in the Field of Cultural Rights, Farida Shaheed, Memorialization Processes (UN Doc A/HRC / 25/49), Jan. 23, 2014. In: United Nations Digital Library, https://digitallibrary.un.org/ record/766862 (retrieved 12, 2020), No. 83–85; United Nations General Assembly: Report of the Special Rapporteur on the Promotion of Truth, Justice, Reparation and Guarantees of Non-Recurrence, Fabián Salvioli, Memorialization Processes (UN Doc A/HRC / 45/45), July 9, 2020. In: United Nations Digital Library, https://digitallibrary. un.org/record/3875086?ln=en (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020), No. 24. See additionally Alfred L. Brophy’s fundamental remarks: Some Conceptual and Legal Problems in Reparations for Slavery. In: New York University Annual Survey of American Law 58 (2001–2003) No. 4, pp. 497–556, esp. p. 504. See also Mari J. Matsuda: Looking to the Bottom: Critical Legal Studies and Reparations. In: Harvard Civil Rights-Civil Liberties Law Review 22 (1987) No. 2, pp. 323–400. See Truth and Justice Commission Act No. 28 of 2008: In: Government Gazette of Mauritius No. 84, Aug. 28, 2008/Febr. 1, 2009, https://www.usip.org/sites/default/ files/ROL/Truth%20and%20Justice%20Act%2028%20No_%202008-2.pdf (retrieved

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In the systematic of the UN Basic Principles, restitution is a form of reparation 33 and a right of victims of human rights violations. Reparation is one element in a broader range of measures for dealing with the most serious human rights violations—not to be confused with the compensation for damages under national civil laws. Reparation aims at other constellations of facts, at serious and most serious violations of human rights and international humanitarian law, and has a different objective, namely, to respond appropriately to these events and to compensate any victims when possible. 34 In this respect, the role of affected individuals and communities in terms of a victim-centered approach is of essential importance. 35 The approach is now recognized as a source of legitimacy and a functional prerequisite for measures when dealing with past injustice. 36 The recognition of a victim-centered perspective goes hand in hand with certain individual rights of victims, such as the individual (and collective) right to get informed about the state of knowledge and learn the truth. 37 In this context, the historical reappraisal and investigation of what happened represent the first step in a more comprehensive process. Thus, modes of effecting the right to reparation include, in addition to restitution, com-

33 34 35

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Dec. 12, 2020); Report of the Truth and Justice Commission, Nov. 2011, https://www. usip.org/sites/default/files/ROL/TJC_Vol1.pdf (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). The work of the Truth Commission laid the foundations for the successful case of Mauritius against Great Britain regarding the Chagos Archipelago before the International Court of Justice. See International Court of Justice: Legal Consequences of the Separation of the Chagos Archipelago from Mauritius in 1965. Advisory Opinion, Febr. 25, 2019, https://www.icj-cij.org/public/files/case-related/169/169-20190225ADV01-00-EN.pdf (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020); also worth noting is the labeling of the German and Belgian colonial rule as “root of the [1994] crisis” between Hutu and Tutsi: International Legal Materials 40 (2001) No. 1, p. 142. See Basic Principles (note 25), Principle IX: Reparation for Harm Suffered, No. 18. See United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights: Rule-of-Law Tools for Post-Conflict States, Reparations Programs (Un Doc HR/PUB/08/1), 2008, https:// www.refworld.org/docid/47ea6ebf2.html (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020), p. 10. See United Nations Secretary-General: Report of the Secretary-General: The Rule of Law and Transitional Justice in Conflict and Post-Conflict Societies (UN Doc S/2004/616), Aug. 2004, https://www.un.org/ruleoflaw/files/2004%20report.pdf (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020), No. 16, p. 50; see additionally note 33, p. 2. See United Nations General Assembly: Report of the Special Rapporteur on the Promotion of Truth, Justice, Reparation and Guarantees of Non-Recurrence, Pablo de Greiff, Participation of Victims in Transitional Justice Measures (UN Doc A/HRC / 34/62), Dec. 27, 2016, https://undocs.org/A/HRC/34/62 (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). See United Nations Commission on Human Rights: Impunity. Report of the Independent Expert to Update the Set of Principles to Combat Impunity, Diane Orentlicher, Addendum (UN Doc E/CN.4/2005/102/Add.1), Febr. 8, 2005. In: United Nations Digital Library, https://digitallibrary.un.org/record/541829 (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020), Principles 2–5 or pp. 7 sq.

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pensation, rehabilitation and satisfaction for victims—and non-recurrence guarantees. Satisfaction may include various measures, some of which are closely related to the investigative obligations of states. These include, but are not limited to – verification of the facts and full and public disclosure of the truth, – inquiries into the whereabouts of disappeared persons, – assistance, identification, and reburial of remains in accordance with the wishes of the victims or the practices of their family and community, – an official statement or court order restoring the dignity, reputation, and rights of victims and those closely associated with them, – a public apology (including acknowledgment of the facts and acceptance of responsibility), – memorial services and tributes to victims, and – editing the accounts of the wrongs or violations in educational media. 38 A look at the memorial landscape in the city center of Berlin shows that previous efforts to deal with colonial injustice fell short in this regard. German colonialism, mind the hundreds of thousands of deaths, and the general phenomenon of Africa’s colonization by European powers are mostly invisible—despite the paramount importance of the 1884/1885 Africa Conference convened by Otto von Bismarck in Berlin. In 2020, exceptions were limited to three examples: a small, privately financed stele erected in front of the former Chancellery or Radziwill Palace on Wilhelmstraße, bearing a reference to the Berlin Africa Conference, a display case in the permanent exhibition of the German Historical Museum, also refering to the Congo Conference, and a “Stolperstein” (i.e., literally stumbling stone, a small commemorative plaque in the pavement at a victim’s former place of residence) on Brunnenstraße that commemorates the murder of Tanzanian-born Mahjub bin Adam Mohamed in the Sachsenhausen concentration camp in 1944 (and thus refers primarily to the Nazi era). 39 Even if there is hardly a historical example of a willing party that worked entirely through the described measures catalog—in short, perfection cannot be the standard—the refusal to deal with violence and injustice more comprehensively results in a renewed violation of the victims’ dignity. Pablo de Greiff, the former UN Special Rapporteur on the Promotion of

38 See International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD), March 7, 1966, https://treaties.un.org/pages/ViewDetails.aspx?src= IND&mtdsg_no=IV-2&chapter=4&lang=en (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020), No. 19–23. 39 See Marianne Bechhaus-Gerst: Koloniale Spuren im städtischen Raum. In: Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte 69 (2019) No. 40–42, pp. 40–45.

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Truth, Justice, Reparation and Guarantees of Non-Recurrence, addressed the problem by example and clarified the consequences of some states’ unwillingness to use the term reparation. “In some cases [. . . ] it is argued that the benefits are given not as a way of satisfying the legal obligations of the State and the rights of the victims but as an expression of ‘solidarity’ with them [or] the acts that are the subject of redress are declared to be ‘unjust’ but such a declaration is also said to have no legal consequences [. . . ]. Reparation programs that fail to acknowledge responsibility, in effect, attempt to do the impossible. Just as an apology is ineffective unless it involves an acknowledgment of responsibility for wrongdoing (an apology depends on such recognition, everything else being an excuse or an expression of regret), reparation programs that fail to acknowledge responsibility do not provide reparation [. . . ]. Experience confirms that victims, quite correctly, do not see the transfers performed through such programs as reparations, and therefore continue to struggle to have that right satisfied.” 40

Compensation paid without facing the more fundamental responsibility results in a loss of legitimacy. Consequently, those affected have their previous, accurate feeling reinforced that the compensating party does not acknowledge their concerns or take them seriously. Some of the past restitution measures and repatriations to Namibia fit exactly the situation described by de Greiff: After more than a hundred years without a comprehensive apology, recognition, and reparation for the 1904–1908 genocide against the Ovaherero and Nama, restitution comprises of the return of a few symbolic, emotionally charged objects, such as the Bible and Whip of Hendrik Witbooi. Certainly, the move risks igniting anger among descendants. Indeed, the descendants of the victims insisted on extensive rights and claimed participation in the restitution negotiations, an apology, and reparation. 41 Yet, the considerations above have severalfold relevance for dealing with cultural objects from colonial contexts. Sarr and Savoy emphasize that the objects’ provenance is inextricably linked with historical violence. In their report, they refer to one of the few museum collections that is, for the most part, inventoried and has its lists accessible to the public: the Musée du Quai Branly in Paris. The decidedly exemplary lists reveal that most

40 Note 15, No. 62–63. 41 See Reinhart Kößler: Negotiating the Past. Namibia and Germany. Münster 2015, p. 295 and Reinhart Kößler: The Bible and the Whip. Entanglements Surrounding the Restitution of Looted Heirlooms. Freiburg 2019.

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of the collection was acquired during colonial conquest and established colonial rule. 42 All in all, to sum up the considerations detailed above: Cultural assets that found their way to Germany in a time of violence that still needs critical reappraisal are logically and legally part of this context of violence—regardless of whether key actors resorted to violence in sourcing and transporting the assets to Germany in the individual case. Notwithstanding, taking the actual provenance into account plays a crucial role in case assessments. However, it is not acceptable to ignore the extent and character of the respective historical violence in the colonies in an individual case of a non-violent transfer. On the other hand, if one recognizes this background, restitution has the potential to be a form of reparation, helps to make amends, and contributes to coming to terms with colonial injustice. Nevertheless, the efforts will succeed on the condition that they are part of a comprehensive, credible process that has the backing of the descendants of those affected. Processes of coming to terms with colonial injustice oblige states and affect entire societies; however, it is precisely institutions that own cultural assets from colonial contexts that can and must behave credibly in this regard. The institutions may face tough decisions and find restitution imperative. Moreover, the processes call for cooperation with the societies of origin, non-bureaucratic access to information, and addressing questions of remembrance and commemoration. These aspects have their counterparts in today’s human rights of those affected, mind cultural and participation rights. 43 The former UN Special Rapporteur on Cultural Rights, Farida Shaheed, detailed in her report on remembrance and commemoration proceedings some examples of processes designed to approach the subject in a manner sensitive to intercultural diversity that included an exchange with those affected and ensured the crucial visibility of their perspectives. 44 Meanwhile, one can draw on various tools and institutional assistance when implementing a restitution process. 45 And there are individual lessons learned, for 42 See Sarr, Savoy (note 2), p. 100. 43 See Jochen v. Bernstorff, Jakob Schuler: Wer spricht für die Kolonisierten? Eine völkerrechtliche Analyse der Passivlegitimation in Restitutionsverhandlungen. In: Zeitschrift für Ausländisches öffentliches Recht und Völkerrecht (ZaöRV)/Heidelberg Journal of International Law (HJIL) 79 (2019) No. 3, pp. 553–577. 44 See United Nations Secretary-General: Report of the Secretary-General: The Rule of Law and Transitional Justice in Conflict and Post-Conflict Societies (UN Doc S/2004/616), Aug. 2004, https://www.un.org/ruleoflaw/files/2004%20report.pdf (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020) 45 See United Nations General Assembly: Basic Principles and Guidelines on the Right to a Remedy and Reparation for Victims of Gross Violations of International Human

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example, from strategies implemented in certain affected countries, especially regarding former settler colonies, 46 or from aspects of the truth commissions’ work. 47 However, if involved parties neglect colonization’s violent and unjust character, they are oblivious to the relevance of these instruments.

3 Restitution against the Background of Postcolonial Power Relations and Legal Structures Shaped by Colonization “[. . . ] if the ‘colonial’ is a process and product of imperial ambitions and rivalry amongst European nations [and] as such also a project of sustained political violence against the non-European others, the postcolonial may scarcely be otherwise.” 48

Colonialism cannot be reduced to the exerted physical violence. It created structures that continue to impact the present day and that legal reappraisal must consider. Therefore, the following section deals with current rights and the structures of cultural property protection law and human rights, which promote restitution but can also limit it. The continuing losses of cultural property in colonial times due to the “collecting mania”

Rights Law and Serious Violations of International Humanitarian Law Resolution (UN Doc A/Res/60/147), Dec. 16, 2005, https://www.ohchr.org/en/professional interest/pages/remedyandreparation.aspx (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020); United Nations General Assembly: Report of the Special Rapporteur on the Promotion of Truth, Justice, Reparation and Guarantees of Non-Recurrence Fabián Salvioli. Transitional justice measures and addressing the legacy of gross violations of human rights and international humanitarian law committed in colonial contexts (UN Doc. A/76/180), July 19, 2021. 46 See the “Commission to Investigate the Norwegianization Policy and Injustice against the Sámi and Kvens / Norwegian Finn” adopted unilaterally by the Sami Parliament in Nov. 2019. The commission’s task is to investigate the assimilation policy against the mentioned groups starting around 1800, https://uit.no/kommisjonen_en (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). The Swedish public discusses a similar project: Sweden to Set up Truth Commission to Shed Light on Abuse of Tornedalians. In: The Local, Sweden, Febr. 13, 2020. See additionally the work of the, albeit controversial, Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP) in Canada and the National Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from their Families, conducted from 1995–1997; see Jennifer Balint, Julie Evans, Nesam McMillan: Rethinking Transitional Justice, Redressing Indigenous Harm: A New Conceptual Approach. In: International Journal of Transitional Justice 8 (2014) No. 2, pp. 194–216. 47 See note 32. 48 Upendra Baxi: Postcolonial Legality. A Postscript from India. In: Verfassung und Recht in Übersee/Law and Politics in Africa, Asia and Latin America 45 (2012) No. 2, pp. 178–194, p. 179. See additionally Upendra Baxi: Postcolonial Legality. In: Henry Swartz, Sangeeta Ray (Eds.): A Companion to Postcolonial Studies. Oxford 2000, pp. 540–555.

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of European museums, institutions, and research facilities represent a distinctive aspect in this context. 49 Today’s postcolonial power structures of international law reveal a heterogeneous picture. According to the conception of European jurists that emerged during the 19th century, (national) state sovereignty was an exclusive category. It denied non-European peoples their status as subjects of international law, only to reintroduce them into law as objects to be colonized—whether by economic exploitation, civilization, missionization, or protection. After this legal trick, there was only Europe in legal terms. From the European point of view, the land of those to be colonized was “no man’s land” (terra nullius) waiting for its appropriation. 50 European international law got valorized into universal international law; the non-European world became what legal regulation made of it. According to this view, the former colonies became subjects of international law only after wars of liberation and decolonization, and the people living there to a certain extent through the right of self-determination of peoples, human rights, and the rights of indigenous peoples. According to Anghie, however, this Eurocentric, essentialist difference between Europe and “the others” continues to shape international law to this day. 51 The international law of the protection of cultural property and the regulations adopted for the restitution of cultural property after conflicts between states provide an example of how, against this historical background, even rules based on the principle of formal equality can act as a barrier. 52 At the same time, in today’s legal system, the rights of the people in the successor states of the colonies and the rights of the societies and nation-states they live in apply for reassessing the losses mentioned above—and quite independently of the contexts of their (violent or nonviolent) acquisition. 53 In the following, we detail the argument using

49 50 51 52

See note 35. See Anghie (note 6), pp. 91, 100–104, and 111–114. See ibid., p. 310. See Silvia Rivera Cusicanqui: Pachakuti: Los horizontes históricos del colonialismo interno. In: Silvia Rivera Cusicanqui (Ed.): Violencias (re)encubiertas en Bolivia. Santander 2012, pp. 39–63, esp. p. 40. 53 On the Janus-faced nature of human rights in this context, see Baxi (note 47); Makau W. Mutua: Reflecting on the Genocide of the Ovaherero and Nama Peoples 115 years later. In: European Center for Constitutional and Human Rights, registered association (ECCHR) (Eds.): Colonial Repercussions: Namibia. Berlin 2019; Tshepo Madlingozi: On Transitional Justice Entrepreneurs and the Production of Victims. In: Journal of Human Rights Practice 2 (2010) No. 2, pp. 208–228; Vasuki Nesiah: The Ambitions and Traumas of Transitional Governance. Expelling Colonialism,

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examples of the legal provisions governing restitution between states (see section 4 below) and between individuals (see section 5 below).

4 Restitution between States Regulations on the handling of cultural property in connection with armed conflicts have existed for a long time. For centuries, there were limits to the right of booty in war for certain religious and cultural goods. The first international treaty to contain explicit provisions on the protection of cultural property in armed conflicts was the Hague Conventions on War on Land (Hague II) of 1899 and 1907, described at the beginning of this article. 54 The conventions contain provisions on the treatment of cultural property and private property in armed conflicts but no provisions on restitution. However, such regulations were made in peace treaties. 55 Individual cases came from colonial contexts, as in the case of the transfer of the head of Mkwavinyika Munyigumba Mwamuyinga (Mkwawa for short) following the Treaty of Versailles of June 28, 1919. 56 Mkwawa was the leader of the Wahehe in what Tanzania is now. After several years of guerrilla fighting against the German Protection Force and to avoid capture by the Germans, he committed suicide in 1898. His skull was then taken to Germany as a trophy. Great Britain denounced this as an example of the cruelty of German colonial rule, which is why there is a provision concerning the head in Part VIII of the Versailles Peace Treaty. The part regulates the reparations imposed on Germany, including the restitution of cultural assets within Europe in Arts. 238 sq. The treaty’s Art. 246 stipulates: “Within six months from the coming into force of the present Treaty, [. . . ] Germany will hand over to His Britannic Majesty’s Government the skull of the Sultan Mkwawa, which was removed from the Protectorate of German East Africa and taken to Germany. The delivery of the articles above referred to will be affected in such place and in such conditions as may be laid down by the Governments to which they are to be restored.”

Replicating Colonialism. In: International Law and Transitional Governance. London 2020, pp. 139–152; Theurer, Kaleck (note 4), pp. 22–29. 54 See note 6. 55 See Kerstin Odendahl: Kulturgüterschutz. Entwicklung, Struktur und Dogmatik eines ebenenübergreifenden Normensystems. Tübingen 2005, pp. 11–15 and 162. 56 See Treaty of Peace with Germany (Treaty of Versailles), part VIII, annex VII, section II, article 246. See additionally Jeremiah J. Garsha: Expanding Vergangenheitsbewältigung? German Repatriation of Colonial Artefacts and Human Remains. In: Journal of Genocide Research 22 (2020) No. 1, pp. 46–61.

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Significantly, Great Britain, not Mkwawa’s family, was entitled to restitution. Neither the League of Nations mandate system established by the Treaty of Versailles for the former German colonies, nor the United Nations trusteeship system affirmed legal claims by colonized persons for the return of cultural property taken during the colonial period. Still, this result did not change in the interwar and postwar periods. The destruction and looting of cultural property during Nazi rule was tried as a war crime before the International Military Tribunal in Nuremberg. 57 The looting of private property in armed conflicts has been prohibited since 1949 by Art. 33(2) of the 4th Geneva Convention. 58 Article 1(3) of the 1954 Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict also regulates the return of detained cultural property after the end of hostilities. 59 The states could have agreed to apply the conventions mentioned above retroactively to situations prior to their entry into force, but they failed to do so. Later, formerly colonized states that had become independent in the meantime participated in negotiations on international treaties on the protection of cultural property and set hopes for development in the direction of the restitution of cultural property from colonial contexts. The 1970 UNESCO Convention on Measures to Prohibit and Prevent the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property builds the core of the international body of rules and regulations to date. 60 In advance and later, some young Global South states, which had lost relevant parts of their cultural property during the colonial era, campaigned for the repatriation of their cultural heritage. 61 However, states featuring extensive collections and significant art markets opposed the demand for

57 See Internationaler Militärgerichtshof Nürnberg: Der Prozess gegen die Hauptkriegsverbrecher vor dem Internationalen Militärgerichtshof, Nuremberg Nov. 14, 1945, to Oct. 1, 1946, Vol. 1. Nuremberg 1947, pp. 59–65. 58 See Convention (IV) Relative to the Protection of Civilian Persons in Time of War, Aug. 12, 1949, https://www.un.org/en/genocideprevention/documents/atrocitycrimes/Doc.33_GC-IV-EN.pdf (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). 59 See United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization: Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict, May 14, 1954. In: UNESCO Digital Library, https://unesdoc.unesco.org/ark:/48223/pf0000082464 (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). 60 See United Nations Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property, Nov. 14, 1970. In: UNESCO Digital Library, https://unesdoc.unesco.org/ark:/48223/pf0000133378 (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). 61 See United Nations General Assembly: Resolution of the Security Council re. Restitution of Works of Art to Countries Victims of Expropriation (UN-Doc A/Res/3187/XXVIII), Dec. 18, 1973, http://www.unesco.org/culture/laws/pdf/ UNGA_resolution3187.pdf (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020).

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retroactive application of the convention and blocked the addendum. The UNESCO Convention, therefore, only protects the contracting parties’ national cultural property from the time it comes into force. The contracting parties can each decide sovereignly on their cultural heritage and the comprised cultural property. 62 Article 1 of the UNESCO Convention defines cultural property 63 as “property which, on religious or secular grounds, is specifically designated by each State as being of importance for archaeology, prehistory, history, literature, art or science [. . . ].”

The close connection between state sovereignty and cultural heritage has been repeatedly emphasized independently of the UNESCO Convention, for example, by the International Court of Justice in the Preah Vihear case, a border dispute between Cambodia and Thailand over a Hindu temple. 64 The importance of heritage for the cultural identity of the states of origin and the civil societies concerned is explicitly recognized, among other things, in the Key Point Paper on Dealing with Collections from Colonial Contexts of March 13, 2019, signed by German governmental authorities on the national and federal-state level. 65 The issue of cultural objects not created by the nationals of the respective state is especially challenging. Indeed, Art. 4 sections (b) to (e) of the UNESCO Convention regulate that cultural heritage also includes goods found in a state’s national territory, acquired by archaeological, ethnological, or natural science missions upon consultation with the relevant authorities of the country of origin, legally purchased, or otherwise exchanged based on free agreement or as a gift.

62 See Lyndel V. Prott: Strengths and Weaknesses of the 1970 Convention: An Evaluation 40 Years after its Adoption. Background Paper for Participants in the Second Meeting of States Parties to the 1970 Convention, June 20–21, 2012. Paris 2nd ed. 2012, http://www.unesco.org/new/fileadmin/MULTIMEDIA/HQ/CLT/pdf/Prott_2_en.pdf (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). 63 On “cultural artifacts” instead of “cultural property,” see Anne Splettstößer: Pre-Columbian Heritage in Contestation. The Implementation of the UNESCO 1970 Convention on Trial in Germany. In: Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin, Lyndel V. Prott (Eds.): Cultural Property and Contested Ownership. The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution. Abingdon Oxon, New York 2016, pp. 156–177; Bénédicte Savoy: Eigentum und Besitz. Ein paar ideengeschichtliche Gedanken zu einem juristischen Begriffspaar. In: Völkerrechtsblog, Sept. 17, 2018, DOI: 10.17176/20180917-112316-0. See also Erhard Schüttpelz’s and Brigitta Hauser’s contributions to this volume. 64 See von Bernstorff, Schuler (note 42); International Court of Justice: Temple of Preah Vihear (Cambodia vs. Thailand). Judgment of June 15, 1962, https://www.icj-cij. org/public/ files / case-related/45/045-19620615-JUD-01-00-EN.pdf (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020), p. 36. 65 See note 24.

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However, the wording neither excludes nor clarifies the case of more than one state claimant and reciprocal claims. Postcolonial continuities also play a role in the practical application of the UNESCO Convention. Mainly European states initially feared that the UNESCO Convention would hurt their art market. In the first decades, the Global South states ranked most important regarding the origin of seized cultural goods ratified the convention. 66 The 1995 convention of the International Institute for the Unification of Private Law (UNIDROIT), more far-reaching in scope, also applies to private individuals. To date, eleven states ratified UNIDROIT. 67 Germany ratified the UNESCO Convention in 2007, 35 years after it entered into force, but did not ratify the UNIDROIT Convention. 68 In 2016, the Kulturgüterrückgabegesetz or KultGüRückG (i.e., Cultural Property Restitution Act) 69 transposed the UNESCO Convention into German law. The first transnational case decided under the KultGüRückG related to the so-called Patterson Collection of pre-Columbian cultural objects traded after 1970. Mexico, Guatemala, and Costa Rica unsuccessfully asserted restitution claims. 70 They failed due to formal requirements for restitution claims that did not correspond to the realities of the states of origin. Section 6 (2) sentences 2 and 3 KultGüRückG stipulate as a prerequisite for restitution that the cultural property was “included in an individually identifiable manner in a list of important public and private cultural property by a state party to the contract” prior to transfer. 66 Upon entry into force in 1972: Ecuador, Bulgaria, Nigeria, and one month later the Central African Republic. See https://treaties.un.org/Pages/showDetails.aspx?objid= 08000002801170ec&clang=_en (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). 67 See International Institute for the Unification of Private Law: Convention on stolen or illegally exported cultural objects, June 24, 1995, https://www.unidroit.org/english/ conventions/1995culturalproperty/1995culturalproperty-en.pdf (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020), p. 457. 68 See Deutscher Bundestag, Wissenschaftliche Dienste: Ausarbeitung: Rückführung von Kulturgütern aus Kolonialgebieten. Rechtsgrundlagen für Ansprüche auf Restitution (i.e., German Bundestag, Scientific Services: Elaboration: Repatriation of Cultural Property from Colonial Territories. Legal Bases for Claims for Restitution), BT WD 10-3000-023/18, May 4, 2018, https://www.bundestag.de/resource/blob/ 561162/d41c5c7c2312cbd82286e01677c187e8/WD-10-023-18-pdf-data.pdf (BT WD 10-3000-023/18), (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020), p. 7. 69 See Gesetz zur Ausführung des UNESCO-Übereinkommens v. 14. 11. 1970 über Maßnahmen zum Verbot und zur Verhütung der rechtswidrigen Einfuhr, Ausfuhr und Übereignung von Kulturgut (i.e., Law on the Implementation of the UNESCO Convention of 14. 11. 1970 on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property) (Kulturgüterrückgabegesetz – KultGüRückG), May 18, 2007, Bundesgesetzblatt 2007 I, p. 757. 70 See Splettstößer (note 62), pp. 161–166.

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Furthermore, the list must be “publicly accessible without unreasonable obstacles within the territory of the Federal Republic [of Germany].” Since the law did not lead to a single case of restitution, the final analysis considered it a failure. 71 In 2016, das KultGüRückG was replaced by the currently in force Gesetz zum Schutz von Kulturgut or KGSG (i.e., Act on the Protection of Cultural Property). 72 Critics, particularly art dealers, find fault with the KGSG’s supposedly far-reaching import and export provisions. 73 Constitutional complaints against the KGSG are pending before the German Federal Constitutional Court, claiming violations of the fundamental right to property. 74 As a result, the protection of cultural property based on the UNESCO Convention cements the intergovernmental status quo rather than overcoming it—even in cases of massive injustice. The Convention does not prevent the restitution of cultural property from colonial contexts as long as recipient states do not designate the property as part of their own cultural heritage per Article 4 of the Convention. In general perception, the protection of cultural property emanates from state sovereignty; thus, confiscating cultural property may violate state sovereignty in individual cases. Many states, which deplore the loss of cultural property relating to colonial contexts, admonish that the protection falls short in several respects: While implemented only hesitantly for the subsequent period, the clauses still need to cover the critical period from the 19th century onwards when most of the cultural property was brought out of the countries. And

71 See Bundesregierung: Bericht über die Auswirkungen des Gesetzes zur Ausführung des UNESCO-Übereinkommens v. 14. 11. 1970 über Maßnahmen zum Verbot und zur Verhütung der rechtswidrigen Einfuhr, Ausfuhr und Übereignung von Kulturgut (Ausführungsgesetz zum Kulturgutübereinkommen) und den Schutz von Kulturgut vor Abwanderung ins Ausland (i.e., Report of the Federal Government on the effects of the Law on the Implementation of the UNESCO Convention of 14. 11. 1970 on Measures to Prohibit and Prevent the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property [Implementation Law on the Convention on Cultural Property] and the protection of cultural property against migration abroad), http://dipbt. bundestag.de/dip21/btd/17/133/ 1713378.pdf (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020), pp. 7–10. 72 See Gesetz zur Neuregelung des Kulturgutschutzrechts (i.e., Law on the Revision of the Law on the Protection of Cultural Property), July 31, 2016, Bundesgesetzblatt 2016 I, p. 1914. 73 One of many reactions, as a case in point: Reaktion auf geplantes Kulturgutschutzgesetz. Hasso Plattner erwägt Umzug seiner Kunstsammlung in die USA. In: Tagesspiegel, Aug. 1, 2015. 74 See Bundesverfassungsgericht: Jahresvorausschau 2020: Verfassungsbeschwerden zu der Frage, ob verschiedene Vorschriften des Gesetzes zum Schutz von Kulturgut (Kulturgutschutzgesetz—KGSK) mit dem Grundgesetz vereinbar sind, 1 BvR 1658/17, 1 BvR 1727/17, 1 BvR 1728/17, 1 BvR 1729/17, 1 BvR 1735/17, 1 BvR 1746/17, https:// www.bundesverfassungsgericht.de (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020).

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the Convention’s high formal requirements tend to disadvantage successor states of European colonies with weak administrative structures.

5 Restitution to Individuals and Human Rights The corpus of international law described above does not cover actors below the state level on the side of both the obligated and the entitled parties. Concerning colonial contexts, the limited scope is problematic as private actors have played and continue to play a decisive role in the transfer of and trade in cultural property. 75 Indeed, the debate on the 2016 KGSG proved the point. What’s more, the laws’ limitation gives individuals who quite recently received a promotion to human rights status a hard time asserting restitution claims, even if they can refer to particular historical examples and legal positions protected by international law. The probably most prominent case of restitution of cultural property looted during the Nazi era may serve as an example of the structurally weak position of individuals in German law. Invoking the Radbruch formula described above, West German courts refrained from applying several Nazi laws because the relevant provisions ran counter to fundamental principles of justice. One of the select laws was the “Gesetz über den Widerruf von Einbürgerungen und die Aberkennung der deutschen Staatsangehörigkeit” (i.e., Law on the Revocation of Naturalizations and the Deprivation of German Citizenship) of July 14, 1933, which had been used to deprive numerous politically disfavored or anti-Semitically persecuted citizens of their citizenship. 76 By contrast, the courts did not apply the formula to the “Gesetz über Einziehung von Erzeugnissen [sogenannter] entarteter Kunst” (i.e., Law on the Confiscation of Products of [So-called] Degenerate Art) of May 31, 1938. 77 However, the decision regarding the latter law was already controversial at the time since the reasoning had stated that the

75 See Matti Koskenniemi: Colonial Laws, Sources, Strategies and Lessons? In: Journal of the History of International Law / Revue d’histoire du droit international (JHIL) 18 (2016) No. 2–3, pp. 248–277; see Sundhya Pahuja’s fundamental contribution to the legal aspects of colonization as a “public-private partnership”: Decolonising International Law. Development, Economic Growth, and the Politics of Universality. Cambridge 2011. 76 See Reichsgesetzblatt 1933 I, p. 480; see also Beschluss des Bundesgerichtshofs (i.e., Decision of the German Federal Supreme Court) of Febr. 28, 1955 (GSZ 4/54). For further references, see Heidt (note 19), pp. 31–34. 77 See Reichsgesetzblatt 1938 I, p. 612.

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law on so-called Degenerate Art affected all citizens equally and thus did not constitute a persecution measure. 78 Besides, the Allied occupation law had allowed the restitution of cultural property seized from Jewish owners during the Nazi era. Common to the occupation law and the subsequent regulations in the young Federal Republic of Germany were rigorous exclusion periods that expired in the first decades after the war. 79 In accordance with these deadlines, restitution applications relating to the territory of the former German Democratic Republic had to be submitted by June 30, 1993, under the “Gesetz zur Regelung offener Vermögensfragen” (i.e., Law on the Regulation of Unresolved Property Issues) of September 29, 1990. 80 Irrespective of this, affected persons can claim ownership following § 985 of the German Civil Code. However, they must substantiate that they continue to own the cultural property in question, i.e., that it is not plausible that a third party acquired the article in good faith. And they must hope that the defendants do not resort to the fact that the claim is time-barred. There are no other claim rights under German Law. 81 Considering these narrow legal limitations, it is interesting to note that legally non-binding instruments have, in contrast, acquired great practical significance. Markedly, institutions currently restitute based on the legally non-binding Washington Conference Principles on Nazi-Confiscated Art (Washington Principles), adopted at the Washington Conference on Holocaust-Era Assets on December 3, 1998. 82 In Germany, the Washington Principles inspired the “Declaration of the German Government, the Federal States and the Leading Municipal Associations on the Locating and Restitution of Cultural Assets Seized as a Result of Nazi Persecution, Particularly from Jewish Property” (Joint Declaration) of December 14, 1999. On March 13, 2019, the Federal State Ministers of Education and Cultural Affairs Conference adopted the mentioned Key Points for Dealing with Collections from Colonial Contexts. 83 The Key Point Paper is also not 78 See Heidt (note 19), p. 33, with reference to Karlsruhe Higher Regional Court: Judgment of May 20, 1954 (Rest M 1462 [270] = Sen. 282) and further evidence. 79 See ibid., pp. 34–70. 80 See Bundesgesetzblatt 1990 II, pp. 885 and 1159. 81 See James A. R. Nafziger, Robert K. Paterson, Alison D. Renteln (Eds.): Cultural Law, International, Comparative, and Indigenous. Cambridge 2010, concerning more farreaching claim rights under Common Law. 82 See Washington Conference Principles on Nazi-Confiscated Art, Released in Connection with the Washington Conference on Holocaust-Era Assets. Washington, D.C., Dec. 3, 1998, https://www.state.gov/washington-conference-principles-on-nazi-con fiscated-art/ (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). 83 See note 24.

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legally binding. Nevertheless, against the backdrop of the abovementioned limitations regarding claims on objects deriving from colonial contexts, one should not underestimate the practical significance of the Key Point Paper. Still, if one compares the Washington Principles and the Key Point Paper, it is striking that the Principles clearly call for the identification of all works of art concerned (see no. 3). The stipulation that it needs standard developing measures, a priority in the Washington Principles, is missing in the Key Point Paper. Rather, the German government and the federal states merely encourage establishing institutions for provenance research 84 and want to “sustainably support” them, specifically concerning human remains. 85 That is to say, the Key Point Paper states clearly that the return of human remains is obligatory and that the restitution of collectibles from colonial contexts is legally possible in principle. 86 The institutional expression of these efforts is the creation of the Contact Point for Collections from Colonial Contexts in Berlin. If institutions may issue decisions on the restitution of cultural property at their discretion, 87 they will have to determine and consult the legitimate interests of those affected; hence, the interests’ legitimacy results from the relevant human rights conventions and soft law instruments. 88 The continuing loss of cultural property in colonial contexts affects various guarantees contained in United Nations human rights treaties, such as the right to cultural participation under Article 15(1) (a) of the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR) and the corresponding state obligation to ensure the right under Article 15(2) of the ICESCR. 89 Besides, the right to cultural participation is closely related to the right to education under Article 13(1) ICESCR. Furthermore, Article 31 of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) of September 3, 2007, for example, guarantees the right of indigenous peoples to preserve, control, protect, and develop

84 85 86 87

See ibid., No. 12 and 13. Ibid., No. 14 and 15. See ibid., No. 6, 7, and 20–22. See Deutscher Museumsbund: Leitfaden zum Umgang mit Sammlungsgut aus kolonialen Kontexten, 2nd ed. 2019, https://www.museumsbund.de/publikationen/leit faden-zum-umgang-mit-sammlungsgut-aus-kolonialen-kontexten/ (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020), p. 164. 88 See explicitly von Bernstorff, Schuler (note 42), pp. 562–570 and 572. 89 See International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, Dec. 16, 1966, https://www.ohchr.org/en/professionalinterest/pages/cescr.aspx (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020); Bundesgesetzblatt 1976 II, p. 428.

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their cultural heritage. 90 Unlike the Covenant on ESC rights, the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples is not legally binding but is a generally recognized soft law. 91 Concrete specifications for restitution requirements can also arise from the set-out rights in connection with guarantees of non-discrimination in cultural life 92 and the participation rights of indigenous peoples and minorities. Illustrative in this respect, although without direct reference to the restitution of cultural property: the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, Michelle Bachelet, called on the German Minister for Foreign Affairs, Heiko Maas, on November 2, 2018, to include the representatives of the Ovaherero and Nama in the ongoing negotiations between the Federal Republic of Germany and the government of Namibia on compensation for the genocide of 1904–1908. 93 Accordingly, UNDRIP describes the process organization oriented toward the participation of indigenous peoples. And Art. 18 UNDRIP states the right of indigenous peoples to participate in decision-making processes on matters affecting their rights through representatives elected by themselves following their own procedures. States should cooperate with indigenous peoples to obtain their consent. Article 19 UNDRIP introduces the principle of Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC); the UN Treaty Bodies must seek the FPIC of Indigenous peoples before issuing recommendations and opinions. If one steps back a bit from the object-oriented perspective on “collection goods” from colonial contexts and asks about the subject character of the goods concerned, further fundamental and human rights implications become visible. In the case of human remains, it is evident that human dignity is at issue. 94 Still, dimensions of protection may unfold in defending 90 See United Nations General Assembly: United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UN Doc A/Res/61/295), Sept. 13, 2007, https://undocs.org/A/ RES/61/295 (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020). 91 See Christian Schliemann Radbruch: Das völkerrechtliche Institut der Autonomie innerstaatlicher Gruppen. Tübingen 2017, pp. 305–310. 92 Articles 1, 3 and 13 (c) of the Convention on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) and Articles 1 para. 1, 2 paras. 2, 5 (e) vi) and 7 of the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD) mention non-discrimination explicitly in relation to cultural participation and cultural rights. 93 For similar remarks earlier on, see United Nations General Assembly: Report of the Working Group of Experts on People of African Descent on Its Mission to Germany, Aug. 15, 2017 (UN Doc A/HRC / 36/60), https://digitallibrary.un.org/ record/1304263/files/A_HRC_36_60_Add-2-EN.pdf (retrieved Dec. 12, 2020), p. 4. 94 See Adrian Schmidt-Recla: Eine Stimme des Rechts. In: Sandra Mühlenberend, Jakob Fuchs, Vera Marušic (Eds.): Unmittelbarer Umgang mit menschlichen Überresten in Museen und Universitätssammlungen. Stimmen und Fallbeispiele. Dresden 2018, pp. 16–26, esp. p. 18.

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indigenous peoples’ authorship of their cultural products or safeguarding their religious artifacts. In individual cases, a judicially enforceable claim to restitution may arise from these instruments by reducing the margin of discretion to zero, namely if any other decision would be disproportionate given the circumstances of the individual case.

6 Dealing with Postcolonial Power Structures What follows from the preceding? In all areas examined—in the practice of international criminal law and human rights law, in the law of cultural property protection, and the rights of indigenous peoples—one finds legal standards relevant to restitution processes. As applicable law, they bind states; as soft law, they guide institutions’ discretion in deciding on restitution claims. However, it should also have become clear that, given the colonial roots of the system described, more is needed than making the above standards applicable to colonial contexts. Instead, it must be a matter of countering the structures created by colonization and the resulting negation of subjectivity and visibility, or as Makau Mutua has put it: “This is what Third World Approaches to International Law (TWAIL) is about: resisting the abstraction of human suffering into the pain of an inanimate, curious, and exotic ‘Other.’” 95

Principal supporters of credible approaches will want to seriously understand and focus on the perspectives of the formerly colonized states, societies, and individuals and jointly develop structures to decolonize the societies of the colonizers and the colonized. 96 As shown above, applicable law provides instruments for fruitful collaborations. Some legal norms, such as the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, were developed to address these groups’ vulnerability resulting from historical disenfranchisement during the colonial period. Many distinct ways are conceivable to meet the challenge, from vari-

95 Mutua (note 52), p. 20. 96 See United Nations General Assembly: Report of the Special Rapporteur on the Promotion of Truth, Justice, Reparation and Guarantees of Non-Recurrence Fabián Salvioli. Transitional justice measures and addressing the legacy of gross violations of human rights and international humanitarian law committed in colonial contexts (UN Doc. A/76/180), July 19, 2021.

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ous forms of arbitration 97 to programs for reparations 98 or otherwise credible mechanisms for participation by states and societies of origin. 99 Collaborative projects can develop new modes of dealing with ownership and possession of cultural property housed in the diaspora 100 and define formats for addressing colonial injustice. 101 The body of laws, especially when it comes to transferable property rights, does not stand in the way. On the contrary, it depends on the political will, primarily in the former colonial societies, as the French president’s initiative resulting in the first returns to Benin and Senegal as well as the recent German restitutions to Nigeria demonstrate. We all should foster these seminal developments now and direct them from a mostly state-centered to a human rights-based approach. 102 The example of the protracted process of the German-Namibian rapprochement shows that there is still a lot to be done in this regard. 103 The German museums’ guidelines specify that it is obligatory to return works acquired unlawfully judged by today’s legal perception, even if the acquisition did not violate former-times law. So, what are they waiting for in German museums and cultural politics?

97 See Andreas Fischer-Lescano: Das Pluriversum des Rechts. In: Merkur 74 (2020) No. 851, pp. 22–31, esp. p. 28. 98 See Matsuda (note 30), pp. 392–398. 99 See von Bernstorff, Schuler (note 42), pp. 562–570. 100 See Savoy (note 62); on the debate over the terminology of “cultural heritage” vs. “cultural property,” see Splettstößer (note 62), p. 158, and Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin’s contribution to this volume. 101 See Nesiah (note 52). 102 See United Nations General Assembly: Report of the Special Rapporteur on contemporary forms of racism, racial discrimination, xenophobia and racial intolerance E. Tendayi Achiume. Obligations of Member States in relation to reparation for racial discrimination rooted in slavery and colonialism (UN Doc. A/74/321), Aug. 21, 2019. 103 Judith Hackmack: Repairing the irreparable? Tackling the long-term effects of German colonialism in Germany and Namibia, Oct. 2022, https://www.ecchr.eu/ fileadmin/user_upload/ECCHR_PP_NAMIBIA_WEB.PDF (retrieved Jan. 9, 2023).

Bettina Brockmeyer

One Tooth, One Film, and One (Hi)Story? Reflections on the Role of Historiography in the Restitution Debates

1 Introduction The WDR series Weltweit (i.e., worldwide) featured 2015 a documentary titled Der Zahn des Häuptlings (i.e., The Tooth of the Chief). 1 Like a crime story, the film introduces the protagonist, a descendant of the von Prince, who once took an active part in colonial rule, and the stolen “tooth of the chief,” which the protagonist administers as a family heritage. The central question is: Will she succeed in returning the tooth to the chief ’s descendants in Tanzania? It is not just any milk tooth from childhood that the von Princes had taken, but a large molar from the head of a war enemy, who died at their hands, Mtwa Mkwawa. 2 According to the film, Tanzanian government officials accompanied the travelers from Germany in the summer of 2014 to prevent a handover in private. In the end, everything turns out fine, and the family of origin gets the tooth back. The government had allowed the return. Indeed, the families speak of reconciliation, and everyone smiles more or less happily into the camera. The half-hour-long report and the documentary film of the same name, which is twice as long and includes additional interviews, both address 1 https://programm.ard.de/?sendung=2811115670241268 (retrieved Sept. 30, 2019). 2 At the time, various spellings of the name (Qwawa, Kuawa, etc.) were in use. Mkwawa is the usual spelling today, even in the respective family, and is considered a short form for Mkwavinyika. See Alison Redmayne: Mkwawa and the Hehe Wars. In: Journal of African History 9 (1968) No. 3, pp. 409–436, esp. p. 409. M(u)twa was a word in use among the Hehe for chief or sultan, as the British or the Germans put it at that time. See, for example, Fulgens Malangalila: Mwamuyinga: mtawala wa wahehe. Ndanda et al. 1987. See also the Hehe dictionary of the Benedictine missionary Cassian Spiß. He noted for the German word “Häuptling” (i.e., chief) the terms: “mutwa, mtemi, mlugu, chota”: Kihehe-Wörter-Sammlung. (Kihehe-German and German-Kihehe). In: Mittheilungen des Seminars für orientalische Sprachen 3 (1900), pp. 115–190, p. 160.

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core questions of the current restitution debate. The first question is who is giving what back to whom. The descendant of Mr. and Mrs. von Prince confronted her far-flung family with the plan to return the tooth. Set in gold as a piece of jewelry and bearing the family coat of arms, the tooth had been passed within the family, accompanied by a narrative that it was the tooth of Mkwawa. The wider von Prince family met the return plan with opposition. Thus, the film’s protagonist could return the tooth only on behalf of part of her family. The Tanzanian government viewed the restitution as a matter of state since the tooth presumably belonged to Mtwa Mkwawa, an anti-colonial resistance fighter and today revered national hero. Accordingly, the Tanzanians did not automatically understand Mkwawa’s great-grandson, who was in office as chief in 2014, to be the addressee. The descendants of the von Prince family successfully overrode this view, and ultimately, the case turned into the restitution of human remains from family to family. Second, it is about the different forms of publicity restituting objects involves. How much public attention does restitution need? Even if they had planned the restitution as a private project—in the sense of a return within families—the descendants of the former colonizers regarded the act of handing over the object to be of public interest and arranged for journalistic coverage. Moreover, they turned beforehand to scholars, first to Marianne Bechhaus-Gerst and later to me, with the twofold aim to get a better grasp of the story and to improve their prospects of placing that story in books and articles. In the report, the Hehe Chief gave a statement addressed to the German audience, calling for further restitutions, gestures of apology, and reconciliation. Considering that, is restitution always of public interest or something that must be handled publicly? Third and finally but related to the latter, is the question of how restitution should be remembered, told, and passed on. For this, one has to detail as far as possible the history leading to the essential necessity for restitution and to clear up the provenance of the object in question. The (hi)story of the item has to include the historical contexts of its “acquisition” and further handling. However, it is crucial—and this is the argument, I will pursue in the following—how on the one hand, this (hi)story gets researched and, on the other hand, told: The story is an expression of or a motor for a culture of historiographical research and writing. It calls for a culture of practices that, concerning colonial history, should finally—regularly and no longer only by way of exception—bring researchers from the former colonies and the former colonial powers together and prompt cooperation. The aforementioned third point concerns the level of representation like the other two but in an even more explicit way and, in a broader

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sense, the role of historiography, a role that may well be trend-setting for enabling processes of understanding through restitution. I will elaborate on all three of these points in the following, but the most important to me is the last. However, to be upfront at the outset, all questions addressed below do not touch on whether to follow up on restitution claims. The fact that restitution measures, if they are possible, are indispensable and imperative is the premise of all considerations addressed in this article.

2 The Law Legal regulations—if they exist and are applied—can become relevant for the question of who returns what to whom. In this regard, one should note quite fundamentally that research in legal history emphasizes the distinction between war and colonialism in international law regarding the restitution of objects from colonial contexts. 3 A powerful source example of this distinction between war and colonialism is the Treaty of Versailles. Various paragraphs regulate the restitution of European spoils of war, but only one section refers to objects from colonies. This paragraph mentions two particular “articles”: the victorious parties reclaim a copy of the Koran and a human skull. 4 Both objects, although the terms article or object seem somewhat inappropriate for a skull, however, that is not the point here, 5 refer to British colonial policy. Thus, the Koran, allegedly in German ex-emperor Wilhelm II’s private possession, is to be handed over to the “King of the Hejaz.” Significantly, addressing Hussein bin Ali al-Hashimi (1853–1931) and demanding the transfer show the efforts to reorganize the Middle East. 6 3 See Christoff Jenschke: Der völkerrechtliche Rückgabeanspruch auf in Kriegszeiten widerrechtlich verbrachte Kulturgüter. Berlin 2005, p. 28. 4 Treaty of Peace with Germany (Treaty of Versailles), part VIII, annex VII, section II, article 246, and p. 158. See additionally Bettina Brockmeyer: Menschliche Gebeine als Glaubensobjekte. Koloniale Kriegsbeutenahme, Vergleichspraktiken und Erinnerung seit dem späten 19. Jahrhundert. In: WerkstattGeschichte 77 (2017), pp. 47–64. On the imbalance in restitution, see Jeremiah J. Garsha: Expanding Vergangenheitsbewältigung? German Repatriation of Colonial Artefacts and Human Remains. In: Journal of Genocide Research 1 (2019), pp. 1–16, DOI: 10.1080/14623528.2019.1633791. See also Judith Hackmack’s and Wolfgang Kaleck’s contribution to this volume. 5 See for an introduction to sensitive collections and objects Sarah Fründt, S wie Sensible Sammlungen. Blog post on “Museum und Verantwortung,” https://sensmus. hypotheses.org/117 (retrieved Dec. 18, 2022). 6 On the disputes over the title “King of the Hejaz” instead of “King of the Arabs” and their background, see Joshua Teitelbaum: The Rise and Fall of the Hashemite Kingdom of Arabia. London 2001, pp. 107–115; Randall Baker, King Husain and the Kingdom of Hejaz. Cambridge, New York 1979; Susan Pedersen: The Guardians. The League of Nations and the Crisis of Empire. Oxford 2015, pp. 21 sq.

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When it comes to the skull, the paragraph refers to the skull of Mkwawa (“Sultan Mkwawa” in the Versailles Treaty), just that African Mtwa, from whose head the ancestors of the von Prince family took a tooth. The Germans, who purportedly housed the skull in one of their museums, had to hand it over to the British. After the First World War, Great Britain took over the mandate power in East Africa and used the demand to get the point across. The paragraph does not mention Mtwa Mkwawa’s family or the people he belonged to, the Hehe. 7 Nevertheless, the treaty passage is less “bizarre,” as Michael S. Neiberg recently put it, but more of a manifestation of European colonial policy. 8 Moreover, the treaty provides evidence—based on the restitution claims made—for the thesis that contemporary international law was a “law of the colonizers.” 9 However, by no means do all legal historians see it this way. Instead, concerning colonialism, the disputed issues are tort, statehood, and the binding force of United Nations regulations. 10 Furthermore, the intertemporal principle of international law that one can only put to use a law applied at the time of the “deed” amounts to legal obstacles to restitution. The explanations of the legal situation in the guidelines of the German Museums Association show this mixed situation. Authors Carola Thielecke and Michael Geißdorf emphasize the “intertemporal private law.” They also argue that critical voices concerning international law would still be in the “minority” in jurisprudence and would not yet have found an echo in “legal practice” on top of that. 11 The authors present the majority 7 Hehe is a term still in use but dating from the 19th century. In 1934, Anthropologist Bryant Mumford cautiously described the Hehe as a “political unit” of people who would call themselves Hehe while they felt they belonged to local groups simultaneously. The Germans and later the British thought the Hehe a “Stamm” respectively a “tribe.” Bryant Mumford: The Hehe-Bena-Sangu Peoples of East Africa. In: American Anthropologist 36 (1934) No. 2, pp. 203–222, p. 203. See additionally John Iliffe: A Modern History of Tanganyika. Cambridge 1979. 8 Michael Neiberg: The Treaty of Versailles. A Concise History. Oxford 2017, p. 61. See additionally Jörn Leonhard: Der überforderte Frieden. Versailles und die Welt 1918– 1923. Munich 2018, p. 810. 9 Sophie Schönberger: Die Säule von Cape Cross und das Völkerrecht. In: Historische Urteilskraft. Magazin des Deutschen Historischen Museums 1 (2019), pp. 28–31, p. 29. 10 On the differing positions, see Christiane Freytag: “Cultural Heritage”: Rückgabeansprüche von Ursprungsländern auf “ihr” Kulturgut? In: Frank Fechner, Thomas Oppermann, Lyndel Prott (Eds.): Prinzipien des Kulturgüterschutzes. Ansätze im deutschen, europäischen und internationalen Recht. Berlin 1996, pp. 175–200; Dorothee Schulze: Die Restitution von Kunstwerken. Zur völkerrechtlichen Dimension der Restitutionsresolutionen der Generalversammlung der Vereinten Nationen. Bremen 1983. 11 Carola Thielecke, Michael Geißdorf: Sammlungsgut aus kolonialen Kontexten. In: Deutscher Museumsbund (Ed.): Leitfaden zum Umgang mit Sammlungsgut aus

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opinion that “the currently applicable legal system [. . . ] does not provide any instruments for clarifying ownership issues surrounding acquisitions from colonial contexts.” 12 Thus, the law does not provide comprehensive regulations regarding who is effectively allowed to return anything, i.e., whether institutions such as museums are authorized to restitute. The “First Key Points on Dealing with Collection Items from Colonial Contexts” adopted by the Conference of Federal Ministers of Education and Cultural Affairs in March 2019 announce urgently needed regulations, as Thielecke and Geißdorf write. 13 However, the relevant passage in the position paper reads somewhat vaguely as follows: “The legal prerequisites for a possible return of collection items from colonial contexts depend on the national, federal state, and corporate law applicable to the respective institutions in each case, particularly on the budgetary regulations of the [German] government, the federal states, and the municipalities. According to these, restitution is possible in principle. If there is a need for legal action to enable the return of collection items from colonial contexts, this will be complied with.” 14

The paper clearly states the general possibility—and the will—to return collectibles. Nevertheless, a possibility does not create any obligations, and implementing further possible regulations is still a task for the future. Nevertheless, asking about historical legal relationships in the respective “societies of origin” is missing in all these explanations, as Larissa Förster already points out in her short contribution to the guidelines of the German Museums Association. 15 When we unidirectionally orient our view at (inter)national regulations and European law, we neglect local ideas

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kolonialen Kontexten. Berlin 2019, pp. 105–118, https://www.museumsbund.de/wpcontent/uploads/2019/08/dmb-leitfaden-kolonialismus-2019.pdf (retrieved Sept. 4, 2019), p. 107. Thielecke and Geißdorf cite the lawyers of the association “Third World Approaches to International Law” as an example of the so-called minority. Ibid., p. 116. Ibid., pp. 116 sq. Erste Eckpunkte zum Umgang mit Sammlungsgut aus kolonialen Kontexten der Staatsministerin des Bundes für Kultur und Medien, der Staatsministerin im Auswärtigen Amt für internationale Kulturpolitik, der Kulturministerinnen und Kulturminister der Länder und der kommunalen Spitzenverbände (i.e., First Key Points on Dealing with Collection Items from Colonial Contexts by the Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media, the Head of the Department of Cultural Affairs in the Federal Foreign Office, the Federal Ministers of Education and Cultural Affairs, and the leading municipal associations). Updated March 13, 2019, https://www.kmk.org/fileadmin/pdf/PresseUndAktuelles/2019/2019-0325_ErsteEckpunkte-Sammlungsgut-koloniale-Kontexte_final.pdf (retrieved Sept. 4, 2019), p. 107. See Larissa Förster: Zur Frage von Recht aus der Perspektive einer historisch arbeitenden Ethnologie. In: Museumsbund (note 10), pp. 118–122. For a critique of the concept society of origin and the resulting essentializing effect, see Paola Ivanov, Kristin

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and concepts of people that we might find below the national level. For the most part, ethnological, anthropological, and legal-historical research has elaborated such concepts so far. 16 For overarching questions, it is worth discussing now, for example, whether the term legal pluralism can be methodically beneficial. Since the beginning of the 21st century, the term has been under consideration in various disciplines. Legal pluralism refers to “the coexistence of different normative modes in the same social space and the related questions of classification, legitimization, and conflict.” 17 The definition originates from Thomas Duve, who criticizes the term for ultimately being too narrow, and therefore proposes the broader term multi-normativity and a praxeological mode of inquiry. 18 Indeed, the term law can’t shake the link to European epistemes; furthermore, it leaves out traditional notions and established patterns of conflict moderation. 19 Whichever term one chooses, the point is to focus on ideas, norms, and practices beyond European legal regulations. Even the concept of property developed from Roman law and linked to an individual or a collective reaches the limits of its conceptual capacity at times when applied to “societies of origin.” 20 Richard Dören argues that one can only examine a restitution claim’s legal situation based on the object. Moreover, one needs a factful provenance history concerning the item in question. Dören and Sophie Schöneberger, to whom he refers,

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Weber-Sinn: Shared Research. Zur Notwendigkeit einer kooperativen Provenienzforschung am Beispiel der Tansania-Projekte am Ethnologischen Museum Berlin. In: Larissa Förster et al. (Eds.): Provenienzforschung zu ethnografischen Sammlungen der Kolonialzeit. Positionen in der aktuellen Debatte. Elektronische Publikation zur Tagung “Provenienzforschung in ethnologischen Sammlungen der Kolonialzeit,” Museum Fünf Kontinente, Munich, Apr. 7–8, 2017, https://edoc.hu-berlin.de/bitstream/hand le/ 18452/19801/13-Ivanov.pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y (retrieved Nov. 2, 2019), pp. 143–156, esp. p. 155. See among others Sally Falk Moore: Social Facts and Fabrications. “Customary” Law on Kilimanjaro, 1880–1980. Cambridge 1986; Idem: Law as Process. An Anthropological Approach. London and Boston 1978; Martin Chanock: Law, Custom and Social Order. The Colonial Experience in Malawi and Zambia. Cambridge 1985. Thomas Duve: Was ist “Multinormativität?“ – Einführende Bemerkungen. In: Rechtsgeschichte—Legal History 25 (2017), pp. 88–101, https://www.researchgate.net/pub lication/319139854_Was_ist_Multinormativitat_-_Einfuhrende_Bemerkungen (retrieved Sept. 4, 2019), pp. 90 sq. Ibid., pp. 91, 92, and 94. See Sheila Heidt’s and Matthias Goldmann’s and Beatriz von Loebenstein’s joint contribution to this volume. See Larissa Förster: Alles, was Recht ist. Anmerkungen zur Debatte um Provenienz und Rückgabe aus der Perspektive der Sozial- und Kulturanthropologie. Blog post on “Wie weiter mit Humboldts Erbe? Ethnographische Sammlungen neu denken,” https://blog. uni-koeln.de/gssc-humboldt/alles-was-recht-ist/ (retrieved Dec. 4, 2019).

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conclude that the German national-level legislature must reformulate legal provisions. 21 Overall, I would like to conclude that more interdisciplinary research is needed that discusses the various contemporary regulations, practices, and understandings of property in an overarching way. In contrast to Dören, I believe that future work should not only focus on the objects but instead use the occasion to ask fundamental questions about law-related concepts and their effective power.

3 The Public On August 28, 2018, Spiegel online announced that Gerhard Ziegenfuß “got rid of the skull.” With this flippant headline, the news website closes a chapter of coverage. Journalists had followed up on a retired English and biology teacher and his attempt to return a skull to Namibia. 22 At issue was a human skull that came into the family through Alois Ziegenfuß, a missionary of the Catholic congregation Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate. Ziegenfuß missionized in the then-German Southwest African region and probably shipped the skull and other collectibles to Germany circa 1913. Since no one could clarify the particulars of the “acquisition” and the skull’s exact origin, return attempts failed for a long time. Then, in 2018, when German officials handed over other human remains looted during German colonial rule in South West Africa to the Namibian government, they also returned this skull. The Spiegel quotes Gerhard Ziegenfuß that he can’t draw a line under the events. After all, Germany has yet to take responsibility for the injustice committed in former German South West Africa. The article features a single line above the subhead reading “The Herero and Nama Genocide,” showing that the editors placed the skull in the genocide’s context. This contextualization, probably justified by the missionary’s war report on the events occurring between 1904 and 1908, garners the skull a different kind

21 See Richard Dören: Zwischen Recht und Politik: Die Rechts- und Eigentumsverhältnisse an Kulturgütern der Kolonialzeit nach deutschem Zivilrecht und Völkerrecht, https:// intr2dok.vifa-recht.de/receive/mir_mods_00004068 (retrieved Sept. 4, 2019). 22 Christoph Titz: Herr Ziegenfuß ist den Schädel los. In: Spiegel Online, Aug. 28, 2018, https://www.spiegel.de/politik/ausland/voelkermord-an-herero-und-namaherr-ziegenfuss-ist-den-schaedel-los-a-1225412.html. See additionally https://www. deutschlandfunkkultur.de/deutsche-kolonialzeit-ein-schaedel-mit-geschichte.2165. de.html?dram:article_id=420830; https://taz.de/Im-Kolonialismus-geraubte-Koer perteile/!5479447/ (both retrieved Sept. 17, 2019).

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of attention it wouldn’t have gotten if featured as nothing more than a collection item of unclear origin. Gerhard Ziegenfuß has written a book about his history with the human remains he inherited. The book is a step toward an informed public. It has the strange-seeming title “A Skull from Namibia. To Africa, With One’s Head Held High.” 23 The publication gathers source excerpts from letters and reports by missionary Alois Ziegenfuß, a statement by anatomist Andreas Winkelmann, who examined the skull with a scientific team, an attempt to reconstruct the missionary’s history, and an account of the author’s efforts to return the skull. In addition, the book contains nearly 40 pages of fiction. Ziegenfuß wants to give the skull a voice and tells its fictional story. I don’t want to judge the publication’s merits and accomplishments; worth considering is the generic form, which actors inheriting human remains from contexts of injustice choose when interacting with the public. Ziegenfuß approached the Namibian embassy, academia, and the media in Germany—and eventually wrote a book himself. The descendant of Mr. and Mrs. von Prince chose a similar path, although without writing a book, but with the support of Berlin Postkolonial, i.e., activists committed to the cultural and political reappraisal of colonialism. After all, the exhibition “German Colonialism. Fragments of its Past and Present” confirmed that numerous private individuals still house objects from the colonial era in their homes. The ambitious exhibition featured a film and several photos by Philip Kojo Metz picturing the inherited things (handwritten books or carved chairs) and the holders in their private rooms. 24 However, when browsing through the pictures in the exhibition catalog, one must admit that searching for a stance like critical distancing from these objects ends fruitless. It seems, on the contrary, the items are an integral part of the room decoration in some cases. Considering that background, one has to rate insisting on the return and documentation of the objects as the missionary and the von Prince family’s descendants have done, so far, an exception within the field of memory culture. 25

23 Gerhard Ziegenfuß, Helmut Rücker: Ein Schädel aus Namibia. Erhobenen Hauptes zurück nach Afrika. Ahlen 2018. 24 See the pictures in the exhibition catalog: Deutsches Historisches Museum (Ed.): Deutscher Kolonialismus. Fragmente seiner Geschichte. Berlin 2016, pp. 228 sq. 25 Following Christoph Cornelißen, I understand memory culture as an “umbrella term for all conceivable forms of conscious remembrance [. . . ], be they aesthetic, political, or cognitive, regarding historical events, personalities, and processes.” Christoph Cornelißen: Erinnerungskulturen. In: Frank Bösch, Jürgen Danyel (Eds.): Zeitgeschichte – Konzepte und Methoden. Goettingen 2012, pp. 166–184, p. 166.

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Britta Schilling’s findings fit in here. According to her study on the longue durée of German colonial memories, most families Schilling interviewed tended to have positive memories of their ancestors who were active in colonizing or missionary work in the German colonies. 26 The family of Lothar von Trotha was an exception to this. However, the interviewees stated by a majority that their ancestors had pursued somewhat “harmless” activities and had also been popular with the local populations. 27 The cases mentioned here show two things: First, restitutions are related to the public sphere, even if they deliberately exclude it. Still, not every object’s return can proceed in the spotlight; some “societies of origin” attach great importance to the secrecy of their sensitive or sacred things, which are by no means intended for the public. 28 I think it is important to critically reflect on the relationship between restitution and the public, whether opting for including or excluding the general public. Additionally, I feel launching more research desirable in the field of historical studies, like the doctoral dissertation by Yann Le Gall. Le Gall, a scientist in the field of literature and cultural studies, discusses the handling of restitution but widens the usual scope to address the situation after actual restitution measures. Addressing a broader public, Le Gall also offers his results globally accessible on a website. 29 Secondly, restitutions usually have a longer lead time. I deem it necessary to find ways of making the period transparent and accessible for research. According to the book mentioned above, Winkelmann regretfully states concerning the skull from Namibia that a colleague of his had not heeded Ziegenfuß’s request. 30 However, dismissiveness can only become a problem if requesting parties try for individual researchers. For whatever reason, even renowned researchers may refuse to carry out the task. Respective holders who want to give something back should have a 26 See Britta Schilling: Postcolonial Germany. Memories of Empire in a Decolonized Nation. Oxford 2014. See additionally Jason Jason: The Conundrum of Colonialism in Postwar Germany. Diss. PhD University of Iowa 2010. 27 Schilling (note 25), p. 179. 28 On the so-called secret sacred objects, e.g., from Australia, see Karin Konold, Eva Raabe: Wertkonflikte im Umgang mit kulturell sensiblem Material. Die Carl-StrehlowSammlung des Weltkulturen-Museums in Frankfurt am Main. In: Anke Ziemer (Ed.): Zur Ethik des Bewahrens. Konzepte, Praxis, Perspektiven. Annual Conference 2013 of ICOM Germany, Cologne, Oct. 17–19, 2013. Berlin 2014, pp. 75–84; Eva Raabe: Wertkonflikte und Widersprüche. Anmerkungen zur Diskussion. In: Förster et al. (note 14), pp. 193–197. 29 See Yann Le Gall: Remembering the Dismembered. African Human Remains and Memory Cultures in and After Repatriation. Diss. phil. University of Potsdam 2019, https://doi.org/10.25932/publishup-50850. See additionally Yann Le Gall: https:// rememberinghumanremains.wordpress.com (retrieved Nov. 4, 2019). 30 Ziegenfuß, Rücker (note 22), p. 116.

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point of contact to have their questions answered. The same applies to people who reclaim something—especially since, to date, reclaims by far outnumber voluntary returns. Launching a branch office of the Magdeburg Center for the Loss of Cultural Property in Berlin was a start. However, the new-founded Department for Cultural Property and Collections from Colonial Contexts does not cater to private persons. 31 Eventually, further efforts should follow, resulting in additional grants and institutions that can boost and shape public relations, interdisciplinary and cooperative research, and professional support for restitution projects. 32

4 History Most participants in the current debate agree that the (hi)stories of the objects must be told—but how? And which ones exactly? In my opinion, it is neither sufficient to exclusively elaborate on the provenance of objects without reporting on acquisition contexts and the subsequently diversified utilization nor to tell the (his)stories unilaterally from a perspective linked to the objects’ respective current location. Objects are part of a broader (hi)story, including historical traditions, memories, rules of what can and cannot be said, and political clashes. To illustrate this call for an enriched history, I would like to return to the beginning—the tooth and the skull that goes with it—to show the gaps in the respective (hi)story. The tooth was taken from a head or a skull after maceration. The skull became prominent; the tooth remained private. The skull’s notoriety stems from the fact that it became part of the Versailles Peace Treaty. Frank Edward of the University of Dar es Salaam, Holger Stoecker of the Berlin Humboldt University, and I have made a collaborative attempt to write a source-based history of the many trajectories of seemingly as many skulls. 33 Questions regarding the supposed history of the skull—often told but rarely discerningly reconstructed—already start when it comes to the fact that Mtwa Mkwawa (1855–1898) had shot a bullet into his body in Uhehe in 1898 to escape capture by the Germans after a war that lasted for 31 See https://www.kulturgutverluste.de/Webs/DE/Stiftung/Organisation/Team/Index. html (retrieved Nov. 4, 2019). 32 Ivanov and Weber-Sinn (note 14) describe impressively that cooperative research is complicated and underfunded and point to the resulting questions. 33 See Bettina Brockmeyer, Frank Edward, Holger Stoecker: The Mkwawa Complex. A Tanzanian-European History about Provenance, Memory, and Politics. In: Journal of Modern European History 18 (2020) No. 2, pp. 117–139.

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years. Had Mkwawa shot himself in the head or the stomach? The answer varies depending on whether one consults German or British sources. It would require extensive research and interviews to unearth local stories. However, contemporary reporters and current researchers agree that the head of the dead man—whether the dead man was Mkwawa is ultimately also unclear—was cut off and brought to the German military station. 34 The station chief Tom Prince exhibited the head before it was presumably fleshed out, packed in a box, or returned to the Hehe. Everything that happened after the public display of the head remains unclear (and is no subject in the following). 35 In any case, what was tellable about the events changed significantly over time, and there is a hidden story. None of the sources I know gives a hint that a tooth was taken from the skull. Although Tom Prince probably had the tooth pendant made for her, Magdalene Prince did not note anything about it in her diary. Besides, it is also undetermined who made the pendant and where. A half-sister of Magdalene Prince told a greatgranddaughter that the couple had “desecrated” Mkwawa’s set of teeth; this reference is the only evidence I know of that indicates that the gold setting indeed holds Mkwawa’s tooth. 36 Now for the narrative. Research on the skull’s history readily mentions the motif of revenge that underlay seizing the skull as a trophy. 37 However, this motif is a reading that did not enter the skull’s historical narrative until after World War II. It goes back to the story of Uhehe’s conquest. In 1891, Mkwawa and his fighters had defeated a battalion of the German military expeditionary force, killing about ten Europeans—including the commanding officer Emil von Zelewski—and 200 Askaris, or soldiers of African origin. The “Schutztruppe” (i.e., protection force), sorely afflicted

34 See the report by Merkl in Deutsches Kolonialblatt 9 (1898), pp. 645–646. See additionally Magdalene Prince: Eine deutsche Frau im Innern Deutsch-Ostafrikas. Berlin 2nd ed. 1905, reprint Paderborn 2012, p. 176. 35 See in particular (Anonymous): The Skull of Chief Mkwawa of Uhehe. N.y. Dar es Salaam. The booklet survived in the papers of 1908-born Colonel Thomas Leahy, Private Secretary of the Governor of Tanganyika, Edward Francis Twining, from 1953 to 1955. In that capacity, Leahy might very well have been the author. Bodleian Library at Weston Library, Special Collections, Mss.Afr.s.1715 (163), Col. Thomas Leahy. According to the report, they had the head “dried.” 36 Conversation of the author with Anuschka Haak, a great-granddaughter of Mr. and Mrs. Prince, on Aug. 10, 2019. 37 See Hans Schmiedel: Bwana Sakkarani. Captain Tom von Prince and His Times. In: Tanganyika Notes and Records 52 (1959), pp. 35–52; Edgar V. Winans: The Head of the King. Museums and the Path to Resistance. In: Comparative Studies in Society and History 36 (1994) No. 2, pp. 221–241, esp. p. 233; Jesse Bucher: The Skull of Mkwawa and the Politics of Indirect Rule in Tanganyika. In: Journal of Eastern African Studies 10 (2016) No. 2, pp. 284–302, esp. p. 288.

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by the defeat, planned retaliatory measures. 38 In 1894, Tom Prince had taken part in the destruction of Mkwawa’s fortress, he writes in his 1914 autobiography Against Arabs and Wahehe. On his way back, Prince passed the former battlefield where Mkwawa had defeated Emil von Zelewski and his troops three years before. Allegedly, there stood a stick with Zelewski’s skull planted on it. 39 In the 1959 Tanganyika Notes and Records, Hans Schmiedel described what allegedly happened next: “Prince, holding the skull of his old chief, Zelewski, in his hands, renewed his vow not to rest until Mkwawa had suffered a similar fate.” 40 Hans Schmiedel was a teacher who devoted himself to the biography of Tom Prince. He undertook extensive research and corresponded with numerous family members. In the unpublished manuscript of his Prince biography, Schmiedel makes no secret of the given that he admired Tom Prince and wrote a kind of heroic story. 41 Thus, although Schmiedel generally bases his explanations on reading copious sources, one notices his effort to show his protagonist in a good light. By giving an account of Tom Prince’s oath, Schmiedel indicates that the cruelty initially came from the Hehe, and he justifies that this cruelty would be avenged. When Prince takes a head trophy, his action is, according to his biographer, resulting from the previous experience of holding the skull of a killed comrade in his hand. In his autobiography, Tom Prince mentions no such dramatic oath on the battlefield. Prince writes in more general terms about Mkwawa’s death and that by that very fact, “the day of Rugaro was finally avenged,” but he does not conjure up the image of an oath on a skull. 42 With regard to the skull, he is not concerned with the cruelty associated with it. He wants to prove that he has found the actual skull of Zelewski. That is why he 38 See Michael Pesek: Koloniale Herrschaft in Deutsch-Ostafrika. Expeditionen, Militär und Verwaltung seit 1880. Frankfurt on the Main 2005, p. 193. Regarding revenge as a motive, see also Michelle R. Moyd: Violent Intermediaries. African Soldiers, Conquest, and Everyday Colonialism in German East Africa. Athens 2014, p. 136. On the history of the Germans in East Africa, see the fundamental contribution by John Iliffe: A Modern History of Tanganyika. Cambridge 1979. 39 See Tom von Prince: Gegen Araber und Wahehe. Erinnerungen aus meiner ostafrikanischen Leutnantszeit 1890–1895. Berlin 2nd ed. 1914, pp. 303 and 308. According to von Prince, he took Zelewski’s head to bring it to the family, but he was robbed of the head later. 40 Schmiedel (note 35), p. 43. Schmiedel’s description still carries weight. For example, Winans (note 36), p. 233, and Bucher (note 36), p. 288, take up his remarks. 41 See Bundesarchiv Koblenz, BSG 18: Bwana Sakkarani (Der trunkene Stürmer). Der Schutztruppenhauptmann Tom von Prince und seine Zeit, (i.e., Bwana Sakkarani [The hotspur in high spirits]. The captain of the Protection Force, Tom von Prince, and his time), handwritten manuscript, written by Hans Schmiedel. 42 Prince (note 38), p. 308.

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describes the remains in detail. 43 Prince’s narration suggests that he thus saw himself as Zelewski’s rightful successor: For a start, he had destroyed Mkwawa’s fortress, then he found the skull of the killed officer, and after that, he defeated Uhehe (he could presuppose that the audience of 1914 could follow the clues). In Prince’s exposition, the skull symbolizes that Zelewski’s reign passes on to a successor, namely to the finder. 44 Similarly, Tom Prince’s wife considered the head of Mkwawa a sign of succession. A July 21, 1898, entry in her diary, first published five years later, states the following: “The sign of victory which Sergeant Merkl delivered to Tom today is admittedly ghastly—and yet there was no other way to demonstrate the death of our terrible enemy than ad oculos, or in a manner that no doubt will linger as to his final annihilation. Merkl brought with him to the station the head of the shot-dead Sultan Quawa [sic]!” 45

Eventually, the fact that they photographed the head shows how important it was to Mr. and Mrs. Prince. This photo still exists in a family album. 46 Remarkably, neither Tom nor Magdalene Prince brings up the tooth. Apparently, the Princes assumed that the German Empire’s readership would accept such stories about a skull. And the assumption was quite reasonable. Cruelties bearing African and colonial connotations had sold well on the book market since the 19th century. 47 Besides, the practice of taking a skull as a war trophy was neither limited to the colonial period nor the African continent. 48 However, there was a change in what was tellable. Anticipated reading desires had presumably changed following German atrocities in World War II and increasing decolonization in individual African states. The development was probably one reason why Schmiedel’s biography manuscript remained unpublished. In addition, Schmiedel had found a

43 See ibid., p. 303. 44 See Bettina Brockmeyer: Menschliche Gebeine als Glaubensobjekte. Koloniale Kriegsbeutenahme, Vergleichspraktiken und Erinnerung seit dem späten 19. Jahrhundert. In: Werkstatt Geschichte 77 (2017), pp. 47–64. 45 Magdalene Prince (note 33), pp. 176 sq. 46 See family album, private archive of the von Prince family. 47 See Winfried Speitkamp: Die Ehre der Krieger. Gewaltgemeinschaft im vorkolonialen Afrika. In: Winfried Speitkamp (Ed.): Gewaltgemeinschaften. Von der Spätantike bis ins 20. Jahrhundert. Goettingen 2013, pp. 289–315, esp. pp. 300–302. 48 See Simon Harrison: Dark Trophies. Hunting and Enemy Body in Modern War. New York, Oxford 2012. Harrison briefly mentions the episode of Mkwawa’s skull, indicating that the colonial military understood the skull of a leading enemy figure as an increase in power for the respective person in possession, ibid., p. 77. Harrison refers in that respect to Edgar Winans (note 35, p. 232), who claims that the Wahehe regarded Prince as “chief.”

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Fig.: Screenshot Westdeutscher Rundfunk (WDR) documentary The Tooth of the Chief. Chief Abdul Adam Sapi Mkwawa holds the pendant with the tooth in his hand

publication venue for an abridged form of his biographical remarks in the Tanganyika Notes and Records, which addressed an audience that was at least more international and, in part, more critical of colonialism. The periodical Tanganyika Notes and Records (1936–65) was published until after independence. Subsequently, after a change of name, the bulletin of the Tanganyika Society in Dar es Salaam was published from 1965 to 1985 under Tanzania Notes and Records. In that publication, it was probably no longer possible for a German author to depict a skull as a trophy or cite it as proof of the importance of the enemy taking the skull’s possession. Hence, the author saw the need to include an oath of revenge in the narration. With the tooth, however, one seems to reach the limits of what one could say—even in the German empire and even though teeth—as relics—are pretty common objects of remembrance in the Christian tradition. In 19th-century European ideas of death and dying, venerable relics were supposed to transmit strength and a sense of community and protect believers. 49 In the Church’s understanding, relics had to come from saints; other objects were considered magical. 50 In profane commemorative practices, however, bones of well-known personalities played a role. 51 The 49 See Isabel Richter: Der phantasierte Tod. Bilder und Vorstellungen vom Lebensende im 19. Jahrhundert. Frankfurt on the Main and New York 2010, p. 172; Arnold Angenendt: Heilige und Reliquien. Die Geschichte ihres Kultes vom frühen Christentum bis zur Gegenwart. Munich 1994, p. 158. 50 See ibid., p. 157. 51 See Raphaël Bouvier: Erinnerung an das Ich. Souvenir des Anderen. Prominenz und Andenken seit der Frühen Neuzeit. In: Museum für Angewandte Kunst Frankfurt (Ed.):

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Princes could assume, from the results of contemporary research done nearby and their first-hand knowledge of Hehe burial practices, that the human remains of Mkwawa were locally highly relevant, also in a spiritual sense. 52 Accordingly, the necklace pendant may have served the wearer as a sign of their particular importance, bringing together local faith practices with Christian symbolism. The tooth is now in possession of the Mkwawa family. Chief Abdul Adam, who had received it from the Prince family’s descendant (see illustration), has since died. Some of his family members say his death had something to do with the fact that or how he accepted the tooth. 53 This hint alone, deriving from an interview with Iringa-based provenance researcher Jan Küver, points to a series of questions I have not answered in this article. What does the tooth mean to the descendants of Mtwa Mkwawa? How do they interpret the chain pendant? All things considered, when writing about the changes in time regarding what was tellable about the tooth, I can no longer limit this history to Germany or Europe. Instead, I must delve into the topic of how the skull has been remembered in the last more than 100 years in Tanzania and the Iringa region. Moreover, it is imperative to learn the opinions on the currently exhibited skull in Kalenga and find out which commemorative stories circulate about Mtwa Mkwawa or the Germans. The above-mentioned joint article covering the Mkwawa issue gives preliminary answers to these questions, but we are still in the early stages. It takes further projects and long-running equal cooperation to address the range of diverse stories that grow around human remains like such a skull.

Der Souvenir. Erinnerung in Dingen von der Reliquie zum Andenken. Köln 2006, pp. 100–117. 52 See Alfons A. Adams: Im Dienste des Kreuzes. Erinnerungen aus meinem Missionsleben in Deutsch-Ostafrika. St. Ottilien 1899, pp. 39–43; Ernst Nigmann: Die Wahehe. Ihre Geschichte, Kult-, Rechts-, Kriegs- und Jagd-Gebräuche. Berlin 1908, pp. 22 and 23; Friedrich Fülleborn: Das Deutsche Njassa- und Ruwuma-Gebiet, Land und Leute, nebst Bemerkungen über die Schire-Länder. Berlin 1906, pp. 216–218; [Jan] Stierling: Die Königsgräber der Wahehe. In: Mittheilungen des Seminars für orientalische Sprachen 2 (1899), pp. 257–262. 53 See Richard Hölzl: Auf der Suche nach dem kulturellen Erbe von Iringa. Ein Gespräch über antikolonialen Widerstand, Museen und Tourismus mit Jan Küver. In: WerkstattGeschichte 75 (2017), pp. 57–69, esp. p. 68.

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5 Conclusion In 2000, in view of the increasing number of historians’ commissions on the history of German institutions during the National Socialist era, the historian Raphael Gross urged that historical scholarship was not to become a “science for legitimatizing purposes” and that historians must constantly redefine their role between jurisprudence, ethics, and politics. 54 As director of the Deutsches Historisches Museum or DHM (i.e., German Historical Museum) in Berlin, he then had at hand an object from a colonial context that the Republic of Namibia was reclaiming from his institution. The DHM held a major conference on the Cape Cross stele, attended by scholars, artists, and activists, and subsequently, the museum’s board of trustees decided to restitute the object in May 2019. 55 In his lecture at the DHM conference, Namibian historian Dag Henrichsen emphasized that the place where the pillar once stood, called Cape Cross during colonialism, had its own African history quite detached from colonial names and meanings. He strongly criticized that local accounts still needed to make it into the interweaving overarching narratives. 56 International and cooperative research efforts should now pick up on local histories and start rewriting. The sea mark bearing a cross, originally erected by the Portuguese, and then carried off by the Germans, is just one of countless objects that would prove a good starting point for such efforts. Gross has defined his role (as head of an institution of historical culture) by inviting to the DHM renowned representatives of the fields between which he sees his discipline currently seeking its positioning. It is unlikely that researchers in history, especially junior scientists, can organize a think tank each time things become complicated. And yet. It should be a given that it takes cross-discipline knowledge transfer and global collaboration to research objects from the colonial period. Moreover, such an approach should lead to new narratives, enabling the collaborating parties to deal with the complexity of historical realities. 57 After all, the stories behind the objects are usually complicated and sometimes quite convoluted. Historiography faces a challenge here; there 54 Raphael Gross: Mächtiger als die Gerichte? Geschichte und historische Gerechtigkeit. In: Norbert Frei, Dirk van Laak, Michael Stolleis (Eds.): Geschichte vor Gericht. Historiker, Richter und die Suche nach Gerechtigkeit. Munich 2000, pp. 164–172, esp. p. 164. 55 See Lukas H. Meyer’s contribution to this volume. 56 See Dag Henrichsen: Cape Cross? Afrikanische Ortsgeschichte_n. In: Urteilskraft (note 8), pp. 40–42. 57 On the call for global exchange in historical research, see also Natalie Zemon Davis: Global History. Many Stories. In: Jürgen Osterhammel (Ed.): Weltgeschichte. Stuttgart 2008, pp. 91–100.

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are no easy answers. However, in my view, that is precisely the point why historiography is so important to the debate. Still, proceedings to find solutions for restitution must accelerate. Yet, researching backgrounds and contexts plus decolonizing knowledge and science are long-term projects that can only work out with the contribution of historical scholarship; hence, conversely, historians should become more involved.

Christoph Zuschlag

Provenance, Restitution, and Historical Culture

1 Introduction Provenance research is booming, and restitution is on everyone’s lips. However, what can provenance research contribute to the controversial debate on restitution? And what about the debate’s dimensions in terms of historiography and memory culture? I want to explore these questions in the following four steps: (2) historical provenance research, (3) recent provenance research and restitution issues with due regard to Nazi-looted goods, (4) current provenance research and restitution issues concerning cultural objects from colonial contexts, and (5) historiographical and memory-cultural dimensions of the restitution debate from the perspective of provenance research.

2 Historical Provenance Research First, some fundamental aspects need to be clarified and widespread misconceptions corrected. Provenance research is not a new phenomenon; instead, it has been part of the art-historical methods since art history developed into an independent academic discipline in the second half of the 19th century. 1 Provenance research examines the origin and (ownership) history of cultural objects—and objects of all kinds—in their respective 1 For the following argumentation, see Christoph Zuschlag: Vom Iconic Turn zum Provenancial Turn? Ein Beitrag zur Methodendiskussion in der Kunstwissenschaft. In: Maria Effinger et al. (Eds.): Von analogen und digitalen Zugängen zur Kunst. Festschrift für Hubertus Kohle zum 60. Geburtstag. Heidelberg 2019, https://doi. org/10.11588/arthistoricum.493. See for an abridged version Deutsches Zentrum Kulturgutverluste, Magdeburg (Ed.): Provenienzforschung in deutschen Sammlungen. Einblicke in zehn Jahre Projektförderung (Provenire. Schriftenreihe des Deutschen Zentrums Kulturgutverluste, Magdeburg, Vol. 1). Berlin, Boston 2019, pp. 347–355; Idem: Provenienz. Geschichte und Perspektiven eines neuen Paradigmas in den Geistesund Kulturwissenschaften. In: Matthias Weller et al. (Eds.): Raubkunst und Restitution.

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historical context. Provenance research is the method of choice when evaluating private and public collections; it provides crucial information for museum and institutional history and contributes, for example, object biographies to inventory catalogs. The objects themselves may carry provenance information, for example, in the form of stamps and labels on the backs of paintings. Besides, inventory lists and archival records of all kinds serve as sources. Since the end of the Middle Ages and the early modern period, collections and cabinets of curiosities have collected provenance information in inventories. The “Erste kunstwissenschaftliche Congress [sic]” (i.e., First Congress of the Science of Art) in Vienna in September 1873 recommended eight principles for cataloging works of art, including No. 5: “Notes on the origin and time of acquisition, the price, the previous history of each painting, including evidence of restorations made.” 2 The congress participants established that provenance information should be part of the basic information of each piece. Subsequently, the cataloging procedure got standardized—and is, in principle, still valid today. Provenance research also plays a vital role in the art market since information on the history of collections and collectibles has gained considerable importance. In turn, the art market has recently become the focus of art history. Provenance research provides evidence in questions of attribution and the authenticity of a work of art. Moreover, it is indispensable for any inventory concerning a complete synopsis of an artist’s known works (catalogue raisonné). Traditionally, provenance research has been practiced more or less as a sideline or auxiliary science. Most scholars attributed no distinct quality to provenance research. Hence, no one made an effort to reflect upon the discipline in greater detail or differentiate it from a methodological point of view. Last but not least, provenance research is no university subject. For a long time, no one seemed to care about legitimate or illegitimate ownership questions.

Zwischen Kolonialzeit und Washington Principles Tagungsband des 13. Heidelberger Kunstrechtstags am 18. und 19. Oktober 2019. Baden-Baden 2020, pp. 23–35 (Schriften zum Kunst- und Kulturrecht, Vol. 33). Baden-Baden 2020, pp. 23–35; Idem: Provenienzforschung. Persönliche und Bonner Perspektiven. In: Ulrike Saß, Matthias Weller, Christoph Zuschlag (Eds.): Provenienz und Kulturgutschutz. Juristische und kunsthistorische Perspektiven. (Schriftenreihe der Forschungsstelle Provenienzforschung, Kunstund Kulturgutschutzrecht, Vol. 1). Berlin, Boston 2022, pp. 47–54; Idem: Einführung in die Provenienzforschung. Wie die Herkunft von Kulturgut entschlüsselt wird. Munich 2022. 2 Rudolf von Eitelberger: Die Resultate des ersten internationalen kunstwissenschaftlichen Congresses in Wien. In: Mittheilungen der K. K. CentralCommission zur Erforschung und Erhaltung der Baudenkmale (1874) No. 19, pp. 40–46, p. 41 (https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.26256.6).

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Yet, this was to change after 1998. Historical, non-political provenance research emerged from the shadows of the academic fringe, came into the focus of social discourses and media interest—and thus became topical and political. In this process, the public perception merged provenance research with the topic of restitution—another error, or at least a fatal limitation of scope. Provenance research, as indicated above, is a discipline in its own right with multiple dimensions of knowledge; it is not a means to the end of preparing restitution measures, even though restitution should always rest on thorough provenance research. How had this limitation of scope come about?

3 Recent Provenance Research and Restitution Issues with Due Regard to Nazi-Looted Goods When processes related to compensating victims of National Socialist tyranny came into operation shortly after the end of World War II, they had a significant impact on the present condition of the discipline. Bochum historian Constantin Goschler distinguishes two restitution phases concerning Jewish property in postwar German history: “A first phase began soon after 1945 and extended into the 1960s. During this period, the restitution laws enacted by the three Western occupying powers between 1947 and 1949 were implemented in West Germany for a start. [The laws] aimed to recompense so-called recoverable property, [. . . ] primarily houses, parcels of land, and companies. In short, assets that had passed into the hands of non-Jewish Germans during the so-called ‘Aryanization.’ In addition, twelve years after the end of the war, the Federal Republic of Germany assumed part of the responsibility for the monetary assets that the German Reich had seized as the largest beneficiary of the robbery of Jews—and launched the Federal Restitution Act in 1957. The unification of the two German states in 1990 initiated a second phase that continues to the present. [The phase] initially involved applying the standards of Western restitution laws to East Germany after decades of delay and catching up on restitution. Recently, new demands have emerged to restitute works of art to the heirs of the former Jewish owners.” 3

3 Constantin Goschler: Zwei Wellen der Restitution. Die Rückgabe jüdischen Eigentums nach 1945 und 1990. In: Inka Bertz, Michael Dorrmann (Eds.): Raub und Restitution. Kulturgut aus jüdischem Besitz von 1933 bis heute. Goettingen 2008, pp. 30–45, p. 30. On the legal perspective, see Harald König: Fragen der Restitution in Deutschland. Rechtliche Grundlagen der Restitution seit 1945. In: Andrea BareselBrand (Ed.): Verantwortung wahrnehmen. NS-Raubkunst – Eine Herausforderung an Museen, Bibliotheken und Archive (Veröffentlichungen der Koordinierungsstelle für Kulturgutverluste, Vol. 7). Magdeburg 2009, pp. 101–116.

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With the latest demands, Goschler refers to the December 1998 Washington Conference on Holocaust-Era Assets. Forty-Two states, including the Federal Republic of Germany, established non-binding principles for restituting assets from the Nazi era (such as looted art). In December 1999, the German government, the federal states, and the leading municipal associations signed a joint declaration. They adopted an ongoing task for public institutions in Germany: tracing and returning “cultural property seized as a result of Nazi persecution, in particular from Jewish ownership.” 4 Since there is no restitution law in Germany, this is a voluntary commitment, a soft law. If one identifies cultural properties as Nazi plunder, the Washington Principles call for “just and fair solutions.” The agreements with the rightful owners or their descendants may or may not involve restitution; other possible forms of amicable settlement are renewed acquisitions or permanent loans of the cultural assets concerned. The restitution of Ernst Ludwig Kirchner’s painting “Berliner Straßenszene” from the Brücke Museum in August 2006 to the granddaughter of the Jewish art collector Alfred Hess was one of the first spectacular cases in Germany to cause an international sensation. It remains controversial to this day whether the painting was factually seized “as a result of Nazi persecution” and whether restitution was appropriate. 5 In 1998, the German government and the federal states established a Coordinating Office for the Loss of Cultural Property to meet the requirements of the Washington Declaration. In 2001, the Office based in Magdeburg initiated the Lost Art Database featuring international search requests and found-object reports on Nazi plunder and cultural objects displaced due to the war (war booty). In 2008, the Arbeitsstelle für Provenienzrecherche/-forschung beim Institut für Museumsforschung der Staatlichen Museen zu Berlin – Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz (i.e., Provenance Research Unit, established at the Institute for Museum Research of the National Museums in Berlin—Prussian Cultural Heritage 4 Quoted from Handreichung zur Umsetzung der “Erklärung der Bundesregierung, der Länder und der kommunalen Spitzenverbände zur Auffindung und zur Rückgabe NS-verfolgungsbedingt entzogenen Kulturgutes, insbesondere aus jüdischem Besitz” vom Dezember 1999, revised version 2019, https://www.kulturgutverluste. de/Content/08_Downloads/DE/Grundlagen/Handreichung/Handreichung.pdf? _ _ blob=publicationFile&v=5 (retrieved May 18, 2020). On the Washington Conference and its socio-political and commemorative significance, see Jan Surmann: Shoah. Erinnerung und Restitution. Die US-Geschichtspolitik am Ende des 20. Jahrhunderts (Transatlantische Historische Studien, Vol. 46). Stuttgart 2012, pp. 223–232. 5 See most recently Ludwig von Pufendorf (Ed.): Erworben Besessen Vertan: Dokumentation zur Restitution von Ernst Ludwig Kirchners “Berliner Straßenszene.” Bielefeld 2018.

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Foundation), got commissioned with the allocation of state funding. These funds enabled museums, libraries, and archives to search their holdings for possible looted goods from the Nazi era. The state seizure of Cornelius Gurlitt’s art holdings, publicized by the media in November 2013 and met with a worldwide media response, heightened public awareness of the dimensions of the Nazi art theft and acted as a catalyst for the expansion of provenance research in Germany. On January 1, 2015, for example, it led to the founding of the German Center for the Loss of Cultural Property, based in Magdeburg, which also awards funding. “The German Lost Art Foundation is a central point of contact in Germany for all matters pertaining to cultural goods which were unlawfully seized. [. . . ] The main activities of the Foundation focus on cultural assets confiscated by the National Socialists through persecution, particularly those from former Jewish owners (so-called ‘Nazi confiscated art’).” 6

The Center continues the tasks of the former Magdeburg Coordination Office and the former Provenance Research Unit—with a significantly expanded range of duties. I will cover the topic in more detail later. The decisive point is thus: as a result of the Washington Conference (that is to say, in response to an external, political impulse) and to identify cultural property seized as a result of Nazi persecution, provenance research has become more intense in many countries, especially in Germany, France, the Netherlands, and Austria. Since 1998, the efforts in many cases have resulted in restitution. To mention just two figures: the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation alone has restituted over 350 works of art and more than 1,000 books since 1999. 7 However, media reporting and public perception often reduce the complex dimensions of provenance research to the buzzword restitution. In contrast, I want to make clear that provenance researchers don’t carry out restitution measures! Instead, they make their research available to the respective institutions, evaluating the results and ultimately making their decisions based on this evaluation. I believe limiting the multi-layered dimensions of provenance research to restitution is a fatal mistake. Still, the stunt reoccurred recently in connection with cultural objects that came into Western collections in another historical context of injustice.

6 https://www.kulturgutverluste.de/Webs/EN/Foundation/Tasks/Index.html (retrieved Nov. 29, 2022). 7 See Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz, https://www.preussischer-kulturbesitz.de/ newsroom / dossiers - und - nachrichten / dossiers / magazin - ns - raubkunst / fair - und gerecht.html (retrieved Febr. 27, 2020).

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4 Current Provenance Research and Restitution Measures Concerning Cultural Objects from Colonial Contexts There is no question that the history of ethnological museums is closely linked to European colonial history, characterized by systematic violence and economic and political domination, enabling the Europeans to appropriate cultural assets from colonized societies over many centuries. Thus, we must assume that “today, over 90 percent of sub-Saharan Africa’s cultural heritage is in Western museums.” 8 For several years, an intense public debate has been underway about how to deal with these cultural assets housed in public collections. One must specify this is a resumption, nothing fundamentally new, as evidenced, for example, by the history of Nefertiti. 9 The bust of Nefertiti was discovered in 1912 during excavations by the German Oriental Society under the direction of the archaeologist Ludwig Borchardt in Amarna, Egypt. Egypt was under British occupation at that time, despite its formal affiliation with the Ottoman Empire. However, French executives in the Egyptian civil service headed the Egyptian Antiquities Administration in Cairo. In 1913, the Nefertiti portrayal came to Germany as part of the find division with permission of the Egyptian Antiquities Administration. In 1920, the entrepreneur and patron James Simon, who had financed the excavations, donated the bust to the Prussian state, and from 1924 it was on public display in the museum built for the Egyptian collection of the Berlin State Museums on Berlin’s Museum Island. As early as 1925, Egypt demanded the bust back for the first time and repeated the demand several times, most recently on January 24, 2011, when Zahi Hawass, Egyptologist and then Secretary General of the Egyptian Antiquities Authority, demanded the return of the bust in a letter to the Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz (i.e., Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation). The then Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and Media, Bernd Neumann, rejected the claim. “On the 100th anniversary of the artifact’s discovery, Hermann Parzinger, President of the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation, declared at the end of 2012 that he still ruled out a return to Egypt, since Nefertiti was ‘part of

8 https://www.dfg.de/dfg_magazin/veranstaltungen/exkurs/2019/191023_savoy_resti tution/index.html (retrieved July 20, 2020). 9 On the following, see Bénédicte Savoy: Nofretete. Eine deutsch-französische Affäre 1912–1931. Cologne, Weimar and Vienna 2011. See also the contribution by Matthias Goldmann and Beatriz von Loebenstein to this volume. The authors introduce the terms “legal provenance” and “legal provenance research” without elaborating on their definition.

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the cultural heritage of humankind’ and he considered a return ‘just out of magnanimity’ to be fundamentally unjustifiable.” 10

In 1984, Gert von Paczensky and Herbert Ganslmayr published an impassioned plea for the return of colonial cultural assets in their book Nefertiti Wants to Go Home 11 triggered by General Mobutu Sese Seko’s address to the UN General Assembly. The then President of Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo) had initiated a debate on the return of colonial cultural property at the UN. On October 4, 1973, Mobutu said: “During the colonial period, we not only suffered colonialism, slavery, and economic exploitation but also suffered, first and foremost, the barbaric and systematic looting of all our art treasures. In this way, the rich countries appropriated the best of us, our unique art treasures, and we, therefore, became poor not only in the economic sense but also culturally impoverished. [. . . ] I ask this General Assembly to adopt a resolution calling upon the rich countries which own art treasures of the poor countries to return some of them so that we can teach our children and our children’s children the history of their countries.” 12

It was not until thirty years later, in 2003, that the UN adopted the resolution Mobutu coveted, but it had no significant effect. On the contrary, colonial history has been suppressed mainly until recent times, and not only in Germany. In 2015, the Hamburg historian Jürgen Zimmerer stated: “Colonial amnesia is gradually fading in Germany.” 13 Essentially, three events recently fueled the discourse on colonial cultural assets: Firstly, the controversy surrounding the Humboldt Forum in the partially reconstructed Berlin City Palace, which will house, among other things, the non-European collections of the National Museums in Berlin. Secondly, French President Emmanuel Macron’s speech on November 28, 2017, at the University of Ouagadougou, the capital of Burkina Faso. Macron announced his intention to create the conditions for the temporary or definitive restitution of African cultural heritage to Africa within five years. Thirdly and finally, the report President Macron commissioned from Felwine

10 Beata Arnold: Die schönste Frau der Welt auf dem Heimweg? – Ägyptische Initiative will Nofretete zurück, https://de.sputniknews.com/kultur/20191206326073785 nofretete-rueckgabe-forderung/ (retrieved May 11, 2020). 11 See Gert von Paczensky, Herbert Ganslmayr: Nofretete will nach Hause. Munich 1984. 12 Quoted from Thomas Fitschen: 30 Jahre Rückführung von Kulturgut. Wie der Generalversammlung ihr Gegenstand abhanden kam. In: Vereinte Nationen (2004) No. 2, pp. 46–51, https://zeitschrift-vereinte-nationen.de/fileadmin/publications/ PDFs/ Zeitschrift_VN/VN_2004/HEFT_2_2004/02_Beitrag_Fitschen_VN_2–04.pdf (retrieved May 11, 2020), p. 46. 13 Jürgen Zimmerer: Kulturgut aus der Kolonialzeit – ein schwieriges Erbe? In: Museumskunde 80 (2015) No. 2, pp. 22–25, p. 22.

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Sarr and Bénédicte Savoy. The authors published on November 23, 2018, their report on the restitution of African cultural heritage (“Rapport sur la restitution du patrimoine culturel africain—Vers une nouvelle éthique relationnelle”). 14 Most recently, it was the case of George Floyd, who died in a violent police operation in Minneapolis on May 25, 2020, that led to protests against police violence and racism in the U.S. and other countries. The demonstrations reignited the debate about colonial objects in museums and called into question honoring colonial actors in the form of monuments and street names. Remarkably, the topics of provenance research and colonial heritage have now arrived on the top political agenda. For example, the coalition agreement between CDU / CSU and SPD of March 14, 2018, states: “We will continue unabated to advance comprehensive provenance research in Germany. [. . . ] We want to promote, as a focal point, the processing of provenances regarding cultural property deriving from colonial legacy in museums and collections, in particular via the German Center for the Loss of Cultural Property and in cooperation with the German Museums Association.” 15

In 2019, the German Center for the Loss of Cultural Property established the department Cultural Objects from Colonial Contexts, complete with a separate funding advisory board. Since then, museums can submit applications if they need additional funds to research the provenances of their ethnographic holdings. On March 13, 2019, the Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media, the Head of the Department of Cultural Affairs in the Federal Foreign Office, the Ministers of Education and Cultural Affairs of the German Federal States, and the leading municipal associations published First key points for dealing with collection items from colonial contexts. The position paper states: “We want to deal responsibly with collection items from colonial contexts in close exchange with the states of origin and the concerned societies of origin. In doing so, we want to create the conditions for the repatriation of human remains and the return of cultural objects from colonial contexts whose appropriation took place in a manner that is no longer legally or

14 See http://restitutionreport2018.com/sarr_savoy_fr.pdf (retrieved May 18, 2020); Felwine Sarr, Bénédicte Savoy: Zurückgeben. Über die Restitution afrikanischer Kulturgüter. Berlin 2019. Critical comments on the report included Patrick Bahners: Französisches Ausleerungsgeschäft. Der “Bericht über die Restitution afrikanischen Kulturerbes.” In: Merkur 73 (2019) No. 838, pp. 5–17. 15 https://www.bundesregierung.de/resource/blob/656734/847984/5b8bc23590d4cb28 92b31c987ad672b7/2018-03-14-koalitionsvertrag-data.pdf?download=1 (retrieved May 18, 2020).

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ethically justifiable today. We will work with the institutions concerned to treat repatriation procedures with the necessary urgency and sensitivity.” 16

Subsequently, on October 16, 2019, it was decided to establish a Contact Point for Collections from Colonial Contexts in Germany at the Cultural Foundation of the Federal States. The services offered aim “in particular at individuals and institutions from the states and societies of origin” and provide “information and advice on collection items from colonial contexts in Germany and related topics.” A secondary objective is to network with individuals and institutions. 17 The passage in the coalition agreement and the First Key Points Paper are both declarations of intent and statements by politicians. Although in the meantime, the museum professionals concerned have also declared their position. On the 2019 annual conference of the directors of ethnological museums in German-speaking countries—that is, more than 20 houses—in Heidelberg, the directors adopted a joint position paper on May 6, 2019. The Heidelberg Statement concedes in principle “possibilities of restitution” but also gives restrictions. Under the heading Decolonization Requires Dialogue, Expertise, and Support, the directors assert: “It goes without saying that objects that entered the [possession of] museums due to injustice at the moment of their production or collection should get returned—if representatives of the originators’ societies desire this. Possibilities of restitution should also be negotiable where objects have a high value for the societies of origin. However, overall, museums preserve cultural heritage from highly differentiated acquisition and collection circumstances and thus embody much more than colonial heritage. It shall be understood, therefore, that the relationships entered into with the incorporation of objects into the collections result in obligations to do much more than just return objects.”

Further, the signatories state that they commit to the following: “(1) to ensure that those connected to the collections by history and cultural practices learn, if at all possible, of the repositories of collections that concern them, (2) to share the preserved knowledge with the creators and their descendants, if possible, as only [such a stance] creates the conditions for mutual trust, and (3) to make public the ongoing research on [their] collection holdings.” 18

16 https://www.kmk.org/fileadmin/pdf/PresseUndAktuelles/2019/2019-03-25_ErsteEckpunkte-Sammlungsgut-koloniale-Kontexte_final.pdf (retrieved May 18, 2020). 17 https://www.kulturstiftung.de/kontaktstelle-sammlungsgut-aus-kolonialen-kontexten/ (retrieved May 12, 2020). 18 https://www.museumsbund.de/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/heidelberger-stellung nahme.pdf (retrieved May 12, 2020).

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On the first-mentioned point, the weekly newspaper Die Zeit published on October 17, 2019, the plea “Open the inventories!—An appeal to finally make the existing knowledge on African objects in German museums freely accessible.” In the position statement, “researchers and cultural workers from various African and European countries [call for urgent efforts] to make the inventories of collections comprising African objects available worldwide as quickly as possible.” 19 In the meantime, a whole series of research projects on cultural objects of colonial provenance started in Germany, such as PAESE—Provenance Research in Non-European Collections and Ethnology in Lower Saxony 20 and the international project Digital Benin—Reconnecting Royal Art Treasures. 21 There are also already several relevant publications on the subject. 22 Last but not least, German museums have made the first restitutions. Here is an example: On February 28, 2019, Theresia Bauer, Minister of Science of Baden-Württemberg, made a return in Gideon, Namibia. She returned a family Bible and whip, until then in possession of the Linden Museum (Public Museum of Ethnology) in Stuttgart to the State of Namibia. The two items once belonged to the former Nama leader and current national hero of Namibia, Hendrik Witbooi, captured by German troops in 1893. 23

19 https://www.zeit.de/2019/43/koloniale-vergangenheit-deutschland-afrikanische-ob jekte-museen#comments (retrieved May 12, 2020). 20 https://www.postcolonial-provenance-research.com/ (retrieved May 12, 2020). 21 https://markk-hamburg.de/files/media/2020/04/Digital-Benin_Pressemappe.pdf (retrieved May 12, 2020). 22 See, for example, Deutscher Museumsbund (Ed.): Leitfaden. Umgang mit Sammlungsgut aus kolonialen Kontexten. 2nd version, Berlin 2019, https://www.museums bund.de/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/dmb-leitfaden-kolonialismus-2019.pdf (retrieved May 18, 2020); Iris Edenheiser, Larissa Förster (Eds.): Museumsethnologie. Eine Einführung. Theorien – Debatten – Praktiken. Berlin 2019; Larissa Förster et al. (Eds.): Provenienzforschung zu ethnografischen Sammlungen der Kolonialzeit: Positionen in der aktuellen Debatte. Berlin 2018, https://edoc.hu-berlin.de/handle/18452/ 19769 (retrieved May 18, 2020); Moritz Holfelder: Unser Raubgut. Eine Streitschrift zur kolonialen Debatte. Berlin 2019; H. Glenn Penny: Im Schatten Humboldts. Eine tragische Geschichte der deutschen Ethnologie. Munich 2019; Olaf Zimmermann, Theo Geißler (Eds.): Kolonialismus-Debatte. Bestandsaufnahme und Konsequenzen. In: Aus Politik & Kultur (2019) No. 17, https://www.kulturrat.de/wp-content/uploads/ 2020/01/AusPolitikUndKultur_Nr17.pdf (retrieved May 20, 2020). See additionally Historische Urteilskraft. Magazin des Deutschen Historischen Museums 1 (2019), cover story: Die Säule von Cape Cross. Koloniale Objekte und historische Gerechtigkeit. On the return of the column of Cape Cross (also called Padrão) see the contribution of Lukas Meyer to this volume. 23 See https://stm.baden-wuerttemberg.de/de/service/presse/pressemitteilung/pid/witbooi bibel-und-peitsche-an-namibia-uebergeben/ (retrieved May 18, 2020); Jochen von Bern-

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With some delay but with even more force, the postcolonial discourse that has been going on since the late 1970s seems to have arrived in the museums. In the sometimes-heated debates, participants repeatedly raised the demand for the decolonization of museums. 24 The trend to rename ethnological museums across Europe indicates a change in thinking. Considering postcolonial criticism, the term Völkerkunde (i.e., literally the Sciences of Peoples, the former German term for ethnology) no longer seems appropriate. Consciously or subconsciously, so the justifications go, Völkerkunde is associated with a colonial attitude, sometimes also with völkisch-nationalist ideas. The Vienna Völkerkundemuseum, for example, was renamed Weltmuseum Wien in 2013. The Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde in Munich became Museum Fünf Kontinente (i.e., Museum Five Continents) in 2014, and the Museum für Völkerkunde Hamburg became Museum am Rothenbaum – Kulturen und Künste der Welt (i.e., Museum at the Rothenbaum—Cultures and Arts of the World) in 2018. The Deutsche Gesellschaft für Völkerkunde also chose a new name in 2017: Deutsche Gesellschaft für Sozial- und Kulturanthropologie (i.e., German Society for Social and Cultural Anthropology). The “restitution revolution” Bénédicte Savoy proclaimed at the beginning of 2018 in response to President Macron’s Ouagadougou speech 25 hasn’t materialized so far—due to a significant part to the fact that the formerly colonized countries have no right to repatriations under either national or international law. 26 There are no legal regulations, restitution

storff, Thomas Thiemeyer: Südwestdeutsch trifft Deutsch-Südwest. Baden-Württemberg gibt zwei kolonialzeitliche Objekte an Namibia zurück. In: Merkur 73 (2019), No. 840, pp. 17–29. 24 See Deutscher Museumsbund (Ed.): Bulletin (2019), No. 4: Schwerpunkt Dekolonisierung. Was heißt das für die Museen? https://www.museumsbund.de/ wp-content/uploads/2019/12/00-bulletin19-4-online.pdf (retrieved May 18, 2020). 25 Savoy’s article appeared in parallel in Le Monde and Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung on Jan. 12, 2018, and in The Art Newspaper on Febr. 16, 2018, www.lemonde.fr/ idees/article/2018/01/12/restitutions-du-patrimoine-africainil-faut-y-aller-danslajoie_5240693_3232.html (retrieved May 14, 2020); https://www.faz.net/aktuell/ feuilleton/art/macron-demands-final-guilty-restitutions-of-the-african-heritage-anafrica-15388474.html (retrieved May 19, 2020); https://www.theartnewspaper.com/ comment/the-restitution-revolution-begins (retrieved May 14, 2020). 26 See Carola Thielecke, Michael Geißdorf: Sammlungsgut aus kolonialen Kontexten. Rechtliche Aspekte. In: Deutscher Museumsbund (note 22), pp. 105–118. See also Bettina Brockmeyer’s contribution to this volume.—Addition by the author in December 2022: The years 2021/22 saw a breakthrough regarding the restitution of the so-called Benin bronzes: First of all, the French National Assembly provided the required legal framework in December 2020, then France returned the first 26 objects to their country of origin, the Republic of Benin, on Nov. 10, 2021. The Federal Republic of Germany and the Federal Republic of Nigeria signed a joint declaration on the return of Benin bronzes and bilateral museum cooperation on July 1, 2022.

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laws, or similar directives regarding how to handle cultural objects of colonial provenance, which museums can use as a template for their actions. Nor is there any soft law, as the Washington Principles represent in the case of Nazi plunder. It is primarily moral-ethical and political reasons that speak in favor of restitution. And so there is a growing number of voices calling for an international conference, a kind of Washington 2.0, to develop appropriate principles. At this point, the development’s path seems to be entirely in the open. But precisely therein lies an opportunity: to apply a differentiated approach to the topic this time. In this context, it is vital to avoid getting it wrong and rating restitution as the only way forward. But above all, neither as a way out, a conclusion, or an endpoint. Felwine Sarr emphasizes in an interview with the weekly Die Zeit on July 25, 2019, regarding Africa: “In general, restitution is much more complex than reported in some media. It is about much more. The restitution of objects is the least of it. [. . . ] It is about redefining the relationship between Africa and Europe. The question of restitution is only the first stage of the debate—and not the most interesting one. [. . . ] We discussed new ethical relations and an opportunity because the objects at stake are anchored in Africa and Europe. They are both ritual objects and museum pieces. If we take their creolized quality seriously, the objects could become mediators and facilitators to come to terms with the past and bring Africa and Europe closer together. Subsequently, we can find a new level of cooperation and respect.” 27

On its website, the Hamburg Museum am Rothenbaum – Kulturen und Künste der Welt (MARKK) states: “Since 2017, the MARKK has been in the process of actively dealing with its colonial past and has initiated a comprehensive repositioning process. The close cooperation and trusting exchange with the collections’ originating societies take high priority. In addition to possible restitutions, the MARKK is ready to discuss alternative solutions such as exchanging digital copies, circulating objects, and long-term [. . . ] collaborations.” 28

The idea of “shared heritage” also seems promising to me. In an interview published in the weekly Die Zeit on March 8, 2018, political scientist and theorist of postcolonialism Achille Mbembe demanded:

On Dec. 20, 2022, the German Foreign Minister, Annalena Baerbock, and the Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media, Claudia Roth, handed over the first 20 Benin artifacts in the Nigerian capital Abuja. See also the introduction to this volume, section 6. 27 https://www.zeit.de/2019/31/felwine-sarr-raubkunst-kolonialismus-museen-europa (retrieved May 18, 2020). 28 https://markk-hamburg.de/category/koloniales_erbe/ (retrieved May 14, 2020).

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“However, the goal should be a borderless circulation of art objects—and not only of the looted objects from Africa but of the entire heritage of humanity. [. . . These objects] belong to all of us. They would be a manifestation of [. . . ] shared heritage.” 29

Is there any valid argument against showing Nefertiti alternately for half a year in the Berlin Neues Museum and the Cairo Egyptian Museum (provided that this would be justifiable from a conservational point of view)? On the one hand, the now-empty space at the respective location could be programmatically included in the museum display to educate the public about the colonial past and the postcolonial present. On the other hand, loans from the partner museum could flank the void—as a visible sign of transnational cooperation and understanding. Besides the given subject-specific questions and approaches, provenance research tasks and methods are not fundamentally different when we consider disciplines and compare ethnological and art historical studies. 30 In terms of content, the aim is to clarify the origin and history of an item and reveal the respective historical context, ideally from the object’s creation through all changes of ownership and location to its current storage place. Furthermore, it is about ascertaining attributions and constructions of meaning. Methodologically, one starts from provenance traces on the respective object and expands the search to written and pictorial sources in museum archives and elsewhere. Ethnological provenance research, specifically, assess also orally transmitted knowledge (oral history). Finally, the researchers put the individual pieces somewhat like a jigsaw puzzle together, always hoping to obtain as complete a picture as possible. However often, very often, there remain gaps or ambiguities. Dealing with incomplete or unclear provenances is one of the most challenging issues in connection with provenance research—especially when the question is: restitution, yes or no?

29 https://www.zeit.de/2018/11/dekolonisation-achille-mbembe-philosoph (retrieved May 20, 2020). See additionally Achille Mbembe: Of African Objects in Western Museums. Über afrikanische Objekte in westlichen Museen. Gerda Henkel-Vorlesung. Münster 2019, Thomas Thiemeyer: Kulturerbe als “Shared Heritage?” (I). Kolonialzeitliche Sammlungen und die Zukunft einer europäischen Idee. In: Merkur 72 (2018) No. 829, pp. 30–44, esp. p. 37, and the contribution of Thomas Thiemeyer to this volume. 30 See Jonathan Fine, Hilke Thode-Arora: Provenienzforschung. Forschungsquellen, Methodik, Möglichkeiten. In: Deutscher Museumsbund (note 22), pp. 99–105; Larissa Förster: Der Umgang mit der Kolonialzeit. Provenienz und Rückgabe. In: Edenheiser, Förster (note 22), pp. 78–103, esp. pp. 82 sq.

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5 The Restitution Debate and its Historical and Memory-Cultural Dimensions from the Perspective of Provenance Research When aiming at a comprehensive view of the restitution debate, it is necessary to take a closer look at the concept of restitution. Deriving from the Latin restitutio, the word literally means restoration, reinstatement. In Roman law, the term denotes a procedural way of restoring a legal situation by reversing an illegal decision. “As a term of international law, [restitution] describes the redress of property deprivations carried out by the occupying power in violation of international law in a territory occupied via acts of war.” 31

In our context, it is about the restitution of looted, expropriated, confiscated cultural property—primarily related to Nazi plunder and recently increasingly discussed in the context of cultural property of colonial provenance. In the latter case, finding answers to the question of the restitution’s legitimate addressee is often highly complex. In Africa, for example, today’s states generally do not correspond or do not correspond entirely with the original tribal territories and kingdoms. Moreover, the societies of origin often do not represent a homogeneous group. Thus, the restitution mentioned above, the return of two colonial objects by the federal state of Baden-Württemberg to the state of Namibia, was controversial in Namibia: “Shortly before the planned celebratory restitution act in Namibia, the Association of Nama Tribal Elders challenged the planned return of the Witbooi Bible, complete with whip, to the state of Namibia. The association, which claims to represent the Nama ethnic group, filed an urgent application for a stay of the return before the Constitutional Court of Baden-Württemberg. The objects were to be returned to them as legitimate representatives of the Witbooi family and not to the Namibian government.” 32

Cultural property theft seems to be a particularly serious “historical slight.” Captain Walter I. Farmer and other American officers, members of an art conservation branch, underscored the assumption in their Wiesbaden

31 Hannes Hartung: Kunstraub in Krieg und Verfolgung. Die Restitution der Beute- und Raubkunst im Kollisions- und Völkerrecht. Berlin 2005, p. 66. On the distinction between the term restitution and the terms reparation, redress and recompense, see Berthold Unfried: Vergangenes Unrecht. Entschädigung und Restitution in einer globalen Perspektive. Goettingen 2014, pp. 39–44. See also the contribution by Lukas Meyer to this volume. 32 Jochen von Bernstorff, Jakob Schuler: Restitution und Kolonialismus: Wem gehört die Witbooi-Bibel? Blog post March 4, 2019, https://verfassungsblog.de/restitution-undkolonialismus-wem-gehoert-die-witbooi-bibel/ (retrieved July 20, 2020).

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Manifesto of November 7, 1945, in which they protested (unsuccessfully) against the transfer of art treasures from German museums to the United States: “We wish to state that, from our knowledge, no historical grievance will rankle so long or be the cause of so much justified bitterness as the removal [. . . ] of a part of the heritage of any nation.” 33

What is the basis for this special status of works of art and cultural assets? They are “more than mere assets: They are the objectified expression of social and cultural values for their owners.” 34 When it comes to cultural objects, it is “always also about identity issues—at the national, regional, and local levels.” 35 Social and cultural values, questions of identity, images of history and constructions of the past, and collective memory—all this is in the background of the current restitution debates and makes them so multi-layered and complex—and almost a model case of historical culture, defined according to Jörn Rüsen as a “conceptual synthesis” of “manifold activities, institutions, and functions of commemoratively dealing with the past” and as the “practically effective articulation of historical consciousness in the life of a society.” 36 However, the term historical consciousness “can, to some extent, divert from the dimensions and areas of human mentality precluded from the conscious mind, in its goal-directedness and reflexivity.” Therefore, Rüsen recommends “to use different categories than the forms of expression and the procedures of historical consciousness to describe the peculiar cultural activity and its manifestations, which the term ‘historical culture’ is supposed to make categorically accessible. For this purpose, the term ‘historical memory’ comes readily to mind. That dealing with history and

33 Walter I. Farmer. The Safekeepers: A Memoir of the Arts at the End of World War II. Berlin and New York, 2000. Introduction, p. x. See additionally Herbert Güttler: Beutekunst? Kritische Betrachtungen zur Kulturpolitik. Bonn 2010. On military art protection in the American occupation zone and Walter I. Farmer, see Iris Lauterbach: Der Central Collecting Point in München. Kunstschutz, Restitution, Neubeginn (Veröffentlichungen des Zentralinstituts für Kunstgeschichte in München, Vol. 34). Berlin, Munich 2015, pp. 26–30. 34 Inka Bertz, Michael Dorrmann (note 3), Introduction, pp. 8–13, p. 10. 35 Goschler (note 3), p. 44. See additionally Elazar Barkan: Völker klagen an. Eine neue internationale Moral. Duesseldorf 2002, p. 31. 36 Jörn Rüsen: Was ist Geschichtskultur? Überlegungen zu einer neuen Art, über Geschichte nachzudenken. In: Klaus Füßmann, Heinrich Theodor Grütter, Jörn Rüsen (Eds.): Historische Faszination. Geschichtskultur heute. Cologne, Weimar, Vienna 1994, pp. 3–26, pp. 4 sq.

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its role in people’s lives is an accomplishment of a certain kind of memory, namely historical, can hardly be disputed.” 37 When, in 1994, Jörn Rüsen decided to publish the text comprising the afore-quoted remarks, questions concerning restitution did not play a significant role in social discourses; otherwise, the author would probably have included considerations on the topic. 38 Notwithstanding, one regularly comes across references to the close connection between restitution and historical memory in the current restitution debate. The historian Dan Diner even speaks of a “quasi-anthropological link between memory and restitution.” 39 Restitution presupposes insight into past injustice and the will to make amends. Restitution—it bears repeating—is not a component of provenance research. Provenance research “provides [scientific results as] a basis to form a historical judgment, which can vary widely depending on perspective and speaker position and the stories told about museum objects, but historical judgment encompasses much more than such findings.” 40 Considering the investigation of object biographies during provenance research and the restitution that may follow as a consequence, both form an essential and integral part of a society’s historical and commemorative culture. I deem it promising to examine the benefit we stand to gain from the following crucial contributions for both provenance research and the restitution debates: Pierre Nora’s concept of the lieu de mémoire (i.e., site of memory), Maurice Halbwachs’s research on collective memory, and Aleida and Jan Assmann’s reflections on cultural memory.

37 Ibid., p. 5. 38 In fact, a remarkable act of restitution happened just that year: on the margins of the 63rd Franco-German Summit, on May 30, 1994, in Mulhouse, Alsace, German Chancellor Helmut Kohl handed over 28 French paintings that German troops had seized during World War II to French President François Mitterrand. François Mitterrand: Allocution sur la restitution à la France d’une collection de tableaux (1994), commented by Moira Barrett. In: Translocations. Anthologie. Eine Sammlung kommentierter Quellentexte zu Kulturgutverlagerungen seit der Antike, https:// translanth.hypotheses.org/ueber/mitterand (retrieved May 24, 2020). See additionally Bénédicte Savoy: Museen. Eine Kindheitserinnerung und ihre Folgen. Cologne 2019, pp. 12–17. 39 Dan Diner: Restitution. Über die Suche des Eigentums nach seinem Eigentümer. In: Inka Bertz, Michael Dorrmann (Eds.): Raub und Restitution (note 3), p. 16–28, p. 21. See additionally Dan Diner: Gedächtnis und Restitution. In: Volkhard Knigge, Norbert Frei (Eds.): Verbrechen erinnern. Die Auseinandersetzung mit Holocaust und Völkermord. Munich 2002, pp. 299–305. 40 Thomas Sandkühler: Restitution und historische Urteilskraft. In: Public History Weekly 7 (2019) No. 9 (DOI: dx.doi.org/10.1515/phw-2019-13510).

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To give just one example: The life topic of Maurice Halbwachs was collective memory and its modus operandi. The French sociologist, a mentee of Émile Durkheim, was murdered in the Buchenwald concentration camp on March 16, 1945. In 1950, an unfinished manuscript appeared in book form under the title La mémoire collective (English language edition: The Collective Memory, New York 1980). One finds the following passages in the book that are fundamentally worthy of consideration for the topic of historical memory and, thus, also for the subject of restitution: “As I have said many times, a remembrance is in very large measure a reconstruction of the past achieved with data borrowed from the present, a reconstruction prepared, furthermore, by reconstructions of earlier periods wherein past images had already been altered.” 41

Furthermore, Halbwachs elaborates: “Certainly we do the reconstructing, but we do so following guidelines laid down by our other remembrances and the remembrances of other people.” 42 Our remembrance of the crimes during colonialism is not separable from our memory of the crimes during National Socialism. In connection with the restitution of Jewish property, the dilemmas and limits of restitution got revealed: “Restitution faces a dilemma: restitution, compensation, reparation, by definition, aim at settling a historical wrong, but alleviating it is the maximum possible against the backdrop of Nazi crimes.” 43

Restitution can’t bring the victims of the Holocaust back to life. Moreover: “The cultural context, that is, the ‘cultural capital’ destroyed in the course of the expropriation, cannot be restituted. The reconstitution of the ownership situation does not mean the renewal of culture and lifeworld—but it does mean a recognition that the victim’s loss resulted from injustice.” 44

Israeli American historian Elazar Barkan comments: “Recognition of past injustice, by showing respect for the victims’ memory, often forms the core of compensation. It is a recognition that transforms the trauma of oppression into a process of mourning and enables a new beginning.” 45 41 Maurice Halbwachs: The Collective Memory, New York 1980, p. 69. See additionally Unfried (note 31), chapter “Welche erinnerungspolitischen Voraussetzungen?,” pp. 236–281, and esp. on Halbwachs, p. 245. 42 Halbwachs (note 41), p. 76. 43 Constantin Goschler, Philipp Ther: Einleitung. In: Constantin Goschler, Philipp Ther (Eds.): Raub und Restitution. “Arisierung” und Rückerstattung des jüdischen Eigentums in Europa. Frankfurt on the Main 2003, pp. 9–25, p. 19. 44 Inka Bertz, Michael Dorrmann (note 3), introduction, pp. 8–13, p. 10. 45 Barkan (note 35), p. 366.

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Finally, I come back to the question: what can provenance research contribute to the restitution debate? I have already made the point that provenance research is the basis of any restitution decision but shouldn’t get reduced to an auxiliary function. Furthermore, examining an object’s historical context is crucial when researching an object’s biography. In other words, it is inevitable to scrutinize the historical process comprising changes in ownership and location of cultural objects and to address the objects’ connection to the people involved and their fates. Concerning contexts of injustice, object history thus also offers an approach to understanding the victims’ history. However, provenance research has many dimensions (just as the objects have inscribed the most diverse meanings). One does the approach no justice when reducing it to a method for finding the answers to the question of rightful or wrongful ownership and, consequently, the question of restitution—yes or no. Moreover, provenance research is not limited to the mere positivistic accumulation of facts and data on the relevant objects—although this kind of research forms the basis for every further interpretation. Provenance research provides new insights into the history and acquisition strategy of the institution in question. Indeed, it sheds new light on the individual artwork by locating it at the intersection of object biography and collection biography. Besides, the provenance of an object has a direct impact on its perception. Knowing the biography of a cultural object means seeing it with different eyes and gaining new routes to an indepth understanding. My thesis is that provenance research is compatible with numerous subjects, disciplines, and discourses in the cultural sciences and humanities. Alongside art and cultural history, other collecting disciplines, such as ethnology, get confronted with questions regarding their objects’ origin and ownership legitimacy. Historians are concerned with the historical contexts of object biographies, and economists with price formation on the art market. Sociologists, for example, go about the network analysis of protagonists involved in the Nazi art theft. Cultural sociologists and social psychologists address the identity-forming role of individual cultural objects. Historians, political scientists, lawyers, and philosophers deal with the complex issue of restitution from their respective perspectives. Linguists and media scientists, for example, focus on linguistic and media analysis of press coverage. Provenance thus has the potential to become a new paradigm in cultural studies and the humanities—and to initiate the process for which I have proposed the term “provenancial turn.”

List of authors

Safua Akeli Amaama, Head of the Department of New Zealand History and Pacific Cultures at the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa. Publications: (with Ramona Boodoosingh, Penelope Schoeffel) A Perfect Storm. The Social and Institutional Contexts of Samoa’s 2019– 2020 Measles Epidemic and the Lessons Learned for the COVID-19 Pandemic. In: Journal of Samoan Studies 10 (2020), pp. 5–29; Churchward, Joseph—Biography. In: Dictionary of New Zeeland Biography (2021), https://teara.govt.nz/en/biographies/6c10/churchward-joseph; Mobilising People, Places, and Practice: Public Health Care in Samoa, 1920s to 1950s. In: Australian and New Zealand Society of the History of Medicine 23 (2021), No. 2, pp. 10–28; (with Danielle Watson / Jeremy Brice) Reimagining (in)Security in Pacific Island States and Territories. In: Centre for Justice Briefing Paper No. 27 (2022); Missing in Action. Women’s UnderRepresentation and Decolonizing the Archival Experience. In: The Cambridge History of the Pacific Ocean, ed. by Anne Hattori, Jane Sanson, Vol. 2. Cambridge 2023, pp. 191–205. Bettina Brockmeyer, Professor of Modern History at Justus Liebig University Giessen. Publications: Menschliche Gebeine als Glaubensobjekte. Koloniale Kriegsbeutenahme, Vergleichspraktiken und Erinnerung seit dem späten 19. Jahrhundert. In: Werkstatt Geschichte 26 (2017) No. 3, pp. 47–64; (with F. Edward / H. Stoecker) The Mkwawa Complex: A Tanzanian-European History about Provenance, Memory, and Politics. In: Journal of Modern European History 18 (2020) No. 2, pp. 117–139; Geteilte Geschichte, geraubte Geschichte. Koloniale Biografien in Ostafrika (1880– 1950), Frankfurt a. M. 2021; (ed. with Rebekka Habermas) Historische Anthropologie 30 (2022) No. 1, Topic Issue: Erinnern postkolonial. Mirjam Brusius, Research Fellow in Colonial and Global History at the German Historical Institute London. Publications: (with Kavitha Singh) Museum Storage and Meaning. Tales from the Crypt. London 2019; (with Trinidad Rico) On Connecting the Ancient and the Modern Middle East in Museums and Public Space. In: Islam and Heritage in Europe, ed. by Sharon McDonald, Katarzyna Puzon, Mirjam Shatanawi. London 2021;

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Counter-Archives as Heritage Justice: Photography, Invisible Labour and Peopled Ruins. In: Journal of Visual Culture 21 (2022) No. 3. Hartmut Dorgerloh, General Director of the Humboldt Forum. Publications: Das Neue Museum. Ort und Ordnung der Weltkunst. In: Neues Museum. Architektur Sammlung Geschichte. Berlin 2009, pp. 66–75; Unvollständige Überlegungen zur Rekonstruktion der Fassaden des Berliner Schlosses. In: Stiftung Berliner Schloss—Humboldtforum. Rekonstruktion am Beispiel Berliner Schloss aus kunsthistorischer Sicht, ed. by Manfred Rettig. Stuttgart 2011, pp. 133–135; Das Berliner Schloss—Stellenwert und Bedeutungswandel in der brandenburgisch-preußischen Residenzlandschaft. In: Kulturgeschichte Preußens, Colloquien 5 (2017). Andreas Eckert, Professor of the History of Africa at the Humboldt University of Berlin and Director of the Käte Hamburger College “Work and Life Course in Global Historical Perspective“ (re:work). Publications: (with Stefano Bellucci): General Labor History of Africa. Workers, Employers and Governments, 20th and 21st Centuries. Oxford 2019; (with Felicitas Henschke): Corona and Work Around the Globe. Berlin / Boston 2020; Geschichte der Sklaverei. Von der Antike bis zum 21. Jahrhundert. Munich 2021. Angelika Epple, Professor of General History with Special Regard to the 19th and 20th Centuries, Pro-rector for Research and International Affairs and (from October 2023) designated rector of Bielefeld University. Publications: (ed. with Walter Erhart and Johannes Grave) Practices of Comparing. Towards a New Understanding of a Fundamental Human Practice. Bielefeld 2020; Periodization in Global History. The Productive Power of Comparing. In: What in the World? Understanding Global Social Change, ed. by Mathias Albert, Tobias Werron. Bristol 2020; Globalization / s. In: The Routledge Companion to History and Theory, ed. by Chiel Akker. New York 2021 Till Förster, Chair of Ethnology and Founding Director of the Center for African Studies at the University of Basle. Publications: Zerrissene Entfaltung: Alltag, Ritual und künstlerische Ausdrucksformen im Norden der Elfenbeinküste. Cologne 1997; (co-ed. with Sidney S. Kasfir) Non-State Actors as Standard Setters. Cambridge 2009; (co-ed. with Sidney L. Kasfir) African Art and Agency in the Workshop. Indiana 2013; (co-ed. with Lucy Koechlin) The Politics of Governance. London 2015. Matthias Goldmann, Professor of International Law at EBS University Wiesbaden and Senior Research Fellow at the Max Planck Institute for Comparative Public Law and Financial Law. Publications: “Ich bin Ihr Freund und Kapitän.” Die deutsch-namibische Entschädigungsfrage im

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Spiegel intertemporaler und interkultureller Völkerrechtskonzepte. In: (Post-)Koloniale Rechtswissenschaft, ed. by Jochen von Bernstorff, Philipp Dann, Isabel Feichtner. Tübingen 2023 (forthcoming); Anachronismen als Risiko und Chance: Der Fall Rukoro et al. gegen Deutschland. In: Kritische Justiz 52 (2019), pp. 92–117. Rebekka Habermas, Professor of Modern History at the Georg August University of Göttingen, visiting professorships in Paris, Oxford, Montréal and New York. Publications: Skandal in Togo. Ein Kapitel deutscher Kolonialherrschaft. Frankfurt on the Main 2016; Restitutionsdebatten, koloniale Aphasie und die Frage, was Europa ausmacht. In: Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte 69 (2019) No. 40–42, pp. 17–22; Die Suche nach Ethnographica und die kunstsinnigen Kannibalen der Südsee. Oder: Was die koloniale Nostalgie im Kaiserreich mit der kolonialen Aphasie heute zu tun hat. In: Historische Zeitschrift 311 (2020), pp. 351–386. Judith Hackmack, Legal Advisor at the European Center for Constitutional and Human Rights e. V. (ECCHR) in Berlin. Publications: (with Arite Keller): Colonial Repercussions. Namibia. 115 Years after the Genocide of the Ovaherero and Nama. Berlin 2019; Die verdrängten Erinnerungen. Zur politischen und rechtlichen Aufarbeitung der deutschen Kolonialverbrechen an den Ovaherero und Nama im heutigen Namibia. In: Südlink 188 (2019), pp. 26–27; Repairing the Irreparable? Tackling the Long-Term Effects of German Colonialism in Germany and Namibia, Berlin 2022; Law and the Challenge of Rehumanization: Human Remains, Dignity, and the Question of Rights. In: Verfassungsblog December 3, 2022, DOI: 10.17176/20221203-121556-0. Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin, Professor Emerita of Social and Cultural Anthropology at the University of Göttingen, publicist. Publications: Entangled in Artifacts. Governing Diverging Claims and Rights to Cultural Objects at UNESCO. In: The Gloss of Harmony. The Politics of PolicyMaking in Multilateral Organizations, ed. by Birgit Müller. London 2013, pp. 154–174; (with Lyndel V. Prott) Cultural Property and Contested Ownership. The Trafficking of Artifacts and the Quest for Restitution. London 2017; Heritage Making—Aid for Whom? The Genealogy of Expert Reports in the Hands of Politics and Their Impact in the Case of Preah Vihear. In: Heritage as Aid and Diplomacy in Asia, ed. by Philippe Peycam. Singapore 2020, pp. 52–77. Sheila Heidt, Lawyer and Art Historian, works on issues such as provenance research, objects from colonial contexts, restitution according to the Handbook on the Implementation of the “Declaration of the Federal Government, the Länder and the Central Municipal Associations on the

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Tracing and Restitution of Cultural Property Seized as a Result of Nazi Persecution, in Particular from Jewish Property“ of December 1999 (revised version 2019), copyright, media, art, and licensing law. Publication: Praxisleitfaden Restitutionsbegehren bei NS-Raubkunst. Berlin 2017. Wolfgang Kaleck, Lawyer and Secretary General of the European Center for Constitutional and Human Rights e. V. (ECCHR), Berlin. Publications: Mit Zweierlei Maß. Der Westen und das Völkerstrafrecht. Berlin 2012; (with Karina Theurer) Dekoloniale Rechtskritik und Rechtspraxis. Baden-Baden 2020; Die konkrete Utopie der Menschenrechte. Ein Blick zurück in die Zukunft. Frankfurt on the Main 2021. Viola König, Professor of Ancient American Studies and Cultural Anthropology at the Latin American Institute of Freie Universität Berlin, former director of the Ethnologisches Museum Berlin (2001–2017) and the Übersee-Museum Bremen (1992–2001). Publications: (with Peter Bolz) Native American Modernism. Art from North America. Petersberg 2012; (with Andrea Scholz) Der lange Weg zum HumboldtForum.—Der Prozess 1999–2012. Berlin 2012; (Ed.) On the Mount of Intertwined Serpents. The Pictorial History of Power, Rule, and Land on Lienzo Seler II. Petersberg 2017; “Certain Secondary Tasks of Ethnographic Museums”: Richter’s Writings and the Role of Ethnographic Museums in Germany’s Colonial Period. In: The Museum in the Cultural Sciences. Collecting, Displaying, and Interpreting Material Culture in the Twentieth Century, ed. by Peter N. Miller. New York City 2020, pp. 202–208. Beatriz von Loebenstein, Master of Arts for Political Theory at GoetheUniversity Frankfurt on the Main; Master of Law at University College London. Legal Advisor at the Ministry of Economy, Development and Tourism of Chile and Lecturer of Administrative Law at Universidad Diego Portales, Chile. Publications: Review of Benedict Kingsbury / Richard B. Stewart: The Emergence of Global Administrative Law. In: Revista de Derecho Público Universidad de Chile (2016), No. 84, pp. 179–183; Empresas públicas [en Chile]. Sus características, naturaleza jurídica, marco normativo, régimen jurídico y su vinculación con la Administración del Estado. Santiago de Chile 2018. Flower Manase, Curator of History at the National Museum of Tanzania, Dar es Salaam. Contributed to exhibition and publication projects on German colonialism in East Africa, including ReMIX. Africa in Translation. A five-part documentary series from the former German colonies (University of Bayreuth, Federal Agency for Civic Education 2016–17) and the exhibition catalog Deutscher Kolonialismus. Fragmente seiner

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Geschichte und Gegenwart (German Colonialism. Fragments of Its Past and Present). Berlin (German Historical Museum) 2016. Lukas H. Meyer, Professor of Philosophy at the University of Graz, Speaker of the Working Section Moral and Political Philosophy and cospokesperson of the inter-faculty field of excellence Climate Change Graz. Publications: Historische Gerechtigkeit. Berlin 2005; (Ed.) Legitimacy, Justice and Public International Law. Cambridge 2009; (Co-Ed.) Intergenerational Justice. Oxford 2012; (co-ed.) Climate Change and Historical Emissions. Cambridge 2017; (Co-Ed.) Rectifying Historical Injustice. Debating the Supersession Thesis. London 2022. Benno Nietzel, Research Fellow at European University Viadrina and Private Lecturer (Privatdozent) at the Faculty of History, Philosophy and Theology, Bielefeld University. Publications: Die internationalen Holocaust-Konferenzen 1997–2009. Von der Londoner Goldkonferenz zur Theresienstädter Erklärung. In: Die Globalisierung der Wiedergutmachung. Politik, Moral, Moralpolitik, ed. by José Brunner, Constantin Goschler, Norbert Frei. Göttingen 2013, pp. 149–174; Jüdisches Eigentum im Nationalsozialismus. “Arisierung,” Enteignung, Zerstörung. In: Eigentumsregime und Eigentumskonflikte im 20. Jahrhundert. Deutschland und die Tschechoslowakei im internationalen Kontext, ed. by Dieter Gosewinkel, Roman Holec, Milos Rezník. Essen 2018, pp. 231–252; Die Massen lenken. Propaganda, Experten und Kommunikationsforschung im Zeitalter der Extreme. Berlin, Boston 2023. Osarhieme Benson Osadolor, Professor and Head of the Department of History and International Studies at the University of Benin, Nigeria. Publications: (with Leo E. Otoide): The Benin Kingdom in British Imperial Historiography. In: History in Africa. A Journal of Methods 35 (2008), pp. 401–418; The Benin Royalist Movement and Its Political Opponents. Controversy over Restoration of the Monarchy, 1897–1914. In: International Journal of African Historical Studies 44 (2011) No. 1, pp. 45–59; Nations and National Security. The Historical Context of Security Sector Reform in Contemporary West Africa. 217th Inaugural Lecture of the University of Benin held on 13th June. Benin City 2019. Hermann Parzinger, prehistorian, President of the Prussian Cultural ˇ Heritage Foundation. Publications: (with Konstantin Cugunov, Anatoli Nagler) Der Goldschatz von Aržan. Ein Fürstengrab der Skythenzeit in der südsibirischen Steppe. Munich 2006; Die frühen Völker Eurasiens. Von der Jungsteinzeit bis zum Frühmittelalter. Munich 2006 (2nd ed. 2011); Das Humboldt-Forum im Berliner Schloss: Anspruch und Chance. In: Das Humboldt-Forum im Berliner Schloss. Planungen—Prozesse—Per-

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spektiven. Munich 2013; Die Kinder des Prometheus. Eine Geschichte der Menschheit vor der Erfindung der Schrift. Munich 2014; Verdammt und vernichtet. Kulturzerstörungen vom Alten Orient bis zur Gegenwart. Munich 2021. Thomas Sandkühler, Professor of History Didactics at the Humboldt University of Berlin. Publications: (ed. with Horst Walter Blanke) Historisierung der Historik. Jörn Rüsen zum 80. Geburtstag. Cologne, Weimar, Vienna 2018; (ed. with Markus Bernhardt) Sprache(n) des Geschichtsunterrichts—Sprachliche Vielfalt und Historisches Lernen. Göttingen 2020; Das Fußvolk der “Endlösung”. Nichtdeutsche Täter und die europäische Dimension des Völkermords. Darmstadt 2020; (ed. with Angelika Epple, Jürgen Zimmerer) Geschichtskultur durch Restitution? Ein Kunst-Historikerstreit. Cologne, Weimar, Vienna 2021; (ed.) Der Nationalsozialismus. Herrschaft und Gewalt, Vol. 2: Gesellschaft, Staat und Verbrechen. Munich 2022 Erhard Schüttpelz, Professor of Media Theory at the University of Siegen. Publications: Figures of Speech. Berlin 1996; Modernity in the Mirror of the Primitive. Munich 2005; Von einem Schloss zum anderen. In: Paideuma 68 (2022), pp. 9–21, also in French translation in: Allemagne d’au’jourd’hui, Numéro 242/October-December 2022, pp. 110–120. Numerous blog contributions. David Simo, Professor of German and Comparative Literature and Cultural Studies and Director of the German-African Science Center at the Université de Yaoundé 1, Cameroon. Publications: (with Michel Espagne, Pascale Rabault-Fuerhahn) Afrikanische Deutschland-Studien und deutsche Afrikanistik: Ein Spiegelbild. Würzburg 2014; Writing World History in Afrika: Conditions, Stakes and Challenges. In: Global History, Globally. Research and Practice Around the World, ed. by Sven Beckert, Dominic Sachsenmaier, London etc. 2018; World Literature and Space Constructions. In: The Routledge Handbook of Transregional Studies, ed. by Matthias Middell. London, New York 2019, pp. 513–524; Georg Forster’s Translation of the Sanskrit drama Sakontala. Precondition and Importance of a cultural Transfer Process. In: Intercultural Transfers and Processes of Spatialization, ed. by Michel Espagne, Matthias Middell. Leipzig 2022, pp. 115–131; Erinnerung an die Kolonisation in Europa, Impetus, Motivation und Modus. In: Beruf(ung) DAF/DAZ, ed. by Nazan Gültekin-Karakoç, Roger Fornoff. Göttingen 2022, pp 109–123. Thomas Thiemeyer, Professor of Museum Studies with a focus on museum research at the Ludwig-Uhland-Institute for Historical and Cultural Anthropology, Department of Economics and Social Sciences at the

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University of Tübingen. Publications: Das Depot als Versprechen. Warum unsere Museen die Lagerräume ihrer Museen wiederentdecken. Cologne et al. 2018; Geschichte im Museum. Theorie—Praxis—Berufsfelder. Tübingen 2018; Cosmpolitainizing Colonial Memories in Germany. In Critical Inquiry 45 (2019) No. 4, pp. 967–990. Jürgen Zimmerer, Professor of Global History with a Focus on Africa at the University of Hamburg, director of the project network “Forschungsstelle Hamburgs (post-)koloniales Erbe” / “Hamburg’s (post-)colonial legacy / Hamburg and (early) globalisation.” Publications: Deutsche Herrschaft über Afrikaner. Staatlicher Machtanspruch und Wirklichkeit im kolonialen Namibia. Münster 3rd ed. 2004 (English: German Rule, African Subjects. State Aspirations and the Reality of Power in Colonial Namibia. New York 2021); Von Windhuk nach Auschwitz? Beiträge zum Verhältnis von Kolonialismus und Nationalsozialismus. Münster 2011 (English: From Windhoek to Auschwitz. Contributions on the Relationship between Colonialism and National Socialism. Berlin 2023 (forthcoming); Kein Platz an der Sonne. Erinnerungsorte der deutschen Kolonialgeschichte. Frankfurt on the Main 2013; (ed. with Kim Todzi) Hamburg: Tor zur kolonialen Welt. Erinnerungsorte der (post-)kolonialen Globalisierung. Goettingen 2021. Christoph Zuschlag, Professor of Modern and Contemporary Art History with a focus on provenance research / history of collecting (Alfried Krupp von Bohlen und Halbach Chair) at the Art History Institute of the University of Bonn Publications: Kunst und Kunstpolitik im Nationalsozialismus—Eine Forschungsbilanz der letzten 20 Jahre. In: Unbewältigt? Ästhetische Moderne und Nationalsozialismus. Kunst, Kunsthandel, Ausstellungspraxis, ed. by Meike Hoffmann, Dieter Scholz. Berlin 2020, pp. 14–35; Provenienz—Geschichte und Perspektiven eines neuen Paradigmas in den Geistes- und Kulturwissenschaften. In: Raubkunst und Restitution—Zwischen Kolonialzeit und Washington Principles. Tagungsband des 13. Heidelberger Kunstrechtstags am 18. und 19. Oktober 2019, ed. by Matthias Weller et al. Baden-Baden 2020, pp. 23–35; (ed. with Ulrike Saß, Matthias Weller) Provenienz und Kulturgutschutz. Juristische und kunsthistorische Perspektiven. Berlin / Boston 2022; Einführung in die Provenienzforschung. Wie die Herkunft von Kulturgut entschlüsselt wird. Munich 2022.

Acknowledgments

The first edition of this book, published in 2021 under the German title “Geschichtskultur durch Restitution? Ein Kunst-Historikerstreit,” was warmly received by experts and the media. Since the debate on colonialism and restitution is international and ongoing, we were keen to make the book available in English. We wish to thank several institutions and persons who made this possible. The Humboldt University of Berlin has supported this translation with a generous grant. Substantial additional support was provided by the Bielefeld University’s Collaborative Research Center (Sonderforschungsbereich) 1288 “Practices of Comparing. Ordering and Changing the World,” which is funded by the German Research Foundation. We appreciate the indispensable help of both renowned academic institutions very much. Ms. Karin Hielscher did an excellent job arranging the translation into American English and coordinated it closely with the authors. Many thanks for that. The authors have reviewed and, when necessary, updated their contributions. At Böhlau publishers, Ms. Kirsti Doepner was, as always, our reliable contact. Ms. Angelina Michalak, student assistant at the History Department at Humboldt University, supported the editorial preparation of the manuscripts. Our esteemed colleague Viola König provided valuable advice for the publication of this book. Many thanks for that as well. H. Glenn Penny, Professor and Henry J. Bruman Chair in German History at the University of California, Los Angeles, an internationally renowned scholar of German ethnology and its traditions, very kindly took the time to introduce the volume to the English-reading public. We greatly appreciate this and sincerely thank him for his support. We hope that this book will foster the scientific debate over colonialism, restitution, and justice. Berlin, Bielefeld, and Hamburg, January 2023 Th.S., A.E., J.Z.