Returning Southeast Asia's Past: Objects, Museums, and Restitution 9789813251243, 1145105258

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Returning Southeast Asia’s Past Objects, Museums, and Restitution

Returning Southeast Asia’s Past Objects, Museums, and Restitution Edited by

Louise Tythacott and Panggah Ardiyansyah

© 2021 Louise Tythacott and Panggah Ardiyansyah Published by NUS Press with the Southeast Asian Art Academic Programme, SOAS, University of London under the Art and Archaeology of Southeast Asia: Hindu-Buddhist Traditions Series. NUS Press National University of Singapore AS3-01-02 3 Arts Link Singapore 117569 Fax: (65) 6774-0652 E-mail: [email protected] Website: http://nuspress.nus.edu.sg All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without written permission from the Publisher. ISBN 978-981-325-124-3 (casebound) National Library Board, Singapore Cataloguing in Publication Data Name(s): Tythacott, Louise, editor. | Ardiyansyah, Panggah, editor. Title: Returning Southeast Asia’s past : objects, museums, and restitution / edited by Louise Tythacott and Panggah Ardiyansyah. Other title(s): Art and archaeology of Southeast Asia : Hindu-Buddhist traditions. Description: Singapore : NUS Press, [2021] | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifier(s): OCN 1145105258 | ISBN 978-981-32-5124-3 (hardback) Subject(s): LCSH: Cultural property--Southeast Asia. | Cultural property- Repatriation--Southeast Asia. | Cultural property--Political aspects--Southeast Asia. | Southeast Asia--Antiquities. Classification: DDC 959.05--dc23 Cover image: Duryodhana, from Koh Ker, returned to Cambodia in 2014. Photograph courtesy of the Stone Conservation Laboratory of the National Museum of Cambodia.

Concept and typographical design by: H55 Printed by: Mainland Press Pte Ltd

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CONTENTS List of Figures vii Foreword xiii Acknowledgements xv

1. INTRODUCTION: COLLECTING AND RETURNING SOUTHEAST ASIA’S PAST Louise Tythacott and Panggah Ardiyansyah 1

PART I: ARTEFACT OWNERSHIP 2. THE SELLING OF KHMER ARTEFACTS DURING THE COLONIAL ERA: QUESTIONING THE PERCEPTION OF KHMER HERITAGE THROUGH A STUDY OF TRADED KHMER ART PIECES (1920s–1940s) Gabrielle Abbe 41 3. THE LOOTING OF KOH KER AND THE RETURN OF THE PRASAT CHEN STATUES Chea Socheat, Muong Chanraksmey, and Louise Tythacott 62 4. WHO OWNS BAN CHIANG? THE DISCOVERY, COLLECTION AND REPATRIATION OF BAN CHIANG ARTEFACTS Melody Rod-ari 87

PART II: OBJECT BIOGRAPHIES AND COLONIAL LEGACIES 5. ON THE ROAD BACK TO MANDALAY: THE BURMESE REGALIA – SEIZURE, DISPLAY AND RETURN TO MYANMAR IN 1964 John Clarke 111

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6. BRIDGING THE GAPS: THE POLITICS OF DISPLAY AT THE ĐỒNG DƯƠNG BUDDHIST ART GALLERY, ĐÀ NẴNG MUSEUM OF CHAM SCULPTURE Nguyễn H.H. Duyên 139 7. RESTITUTION AND NATIONAL HERITAGE: (ART) HISTORICAL TRAJECTORIES OF RADEN SALEH’S PAINTINGS Panggah Ardiyansyah 163 8. RETURNS BY THE NETHERLANDS TO INDONESIA IN THE 2010s AND THE 1970s Jos van Beurden 187

PART III: MUSEUMS, RESTITUTION, AND CULTURAL IDENTITIES 9. THE RETURN OF CULTURAL PROPERTY AND NATIONAL IDENTITY IN POSTCOLONIAL INDONESIA Wieske Sapardan 213 10. PLAI BAT: RECLAIMING HERITAGE, SOCIAL MEDIA, AND MODERN NATIONALISM Phacharaphorn Phanomvan 235 11. MYANMAR, MUSEUMS, AND REPATRIATION OF CULTURAL HERITAGE Charlotte Galloway 264

List of Contributors Index 291

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LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1.1. André Malraux, with a Gandhara Buddha, circa 1933 © Albert Harlingue / Roger-Viollet. 6 Figure 1.2. Head of a Buddha in the collection of the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, probably from Borobudur. 8 Figure 1.3. Banteay Chhmar wall, Cambodia. Photograph by Christian Luczanits, 2015. 14 Figure 1.4. Vishnu Lintel in Prasat Phanom Rung, Thailand. Photograph by Phacharaphorn Phanomvan. 19 Figure 2.1. Sculptures shortlisted for sale in February 1937. The photograph accompanies the list of sculptures, their inventory number, designation, provenance and estimated price. © École française d’Extrême-Orient, Fonds Cambodge ref. EFEO_CAM17472. 49 Figure 2.2. Head n° 303, selected for sale by the buyer, Dr Voronoff in April 1930. © École française d’Extrême-Orient, Fonds Cambodge ref. EFEO_CAM14041. 51 Figure 2.3. Bust of Hevajra during its excavation, Eastern Gate of Angkor Thom, March 1925. © École française d’Extrême-Orient, Fonds Cambodge ref. EFEO_CAM08454. 52 Figure 2.4. Bust of Hevajra. Acquired by the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York in 1936. © École française d’Extrême-Orient, Fonds Cambodge ref. EFEO_CAM17457. 52 Figure 2.5. Bust of Hevajra. Acquired by the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York in 1936, purchased through the Fletcher Fund. Ref. 36.96.4. 53 Figure 3.1. Ganesha, photographed by Henri Parmentier in 1937. Archive, National Museum of Cambodia. 67 Figure 3.2. Ruins of Koh Ker in 2013. Photograph by Chea Socheat. 71

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Figure 3.3. Duryodhana, from Koh Ker, returned to Cambodia in 2014. Photograph courtesy of the Stone Conservation Laboratory of the National Museum of Cambodia. 74 Figure 3.4. Bhima, from Koh Ker, returned to Cambodia in 2014. Photograph courtesy of the Stone Conservation Laboratory of the National Museum of Cambodia. 75 Figure 3.5. Hanuman surrounded by Apsara dancers. Photograph by Kong Vireak. 76 Figure 3.6. Prime Minister Hun Sen welcomes the return of a Koh Ker statue. Photograph courtesy of The Phnom Penh Post. 78–9 Figure 4.1. Excavation site at Ban Chiang in 1975, Institute for Southeast Asian Archaeology. Courtesy of the Penn Museum, image BCES B51. 88 Figure 4.2. Adze, Thailand, Late Ban Chiang, 300 bce–150 ce, Copper alloy, 8 1/4 x 6 1/4 x 1 1/4 in. (21 x 15.9 x 3.2 cm), Gift of Jon and Cari Markell, LACMA M.2002.121.1. Photo © Museum Associates / LACMA. 88 Figure 4.3. Exhibit at Ban Chiang National Museum, Udon Thani, Thailand. Photograph by Dr Nicolas Revire. 91 Figure 4.4. Jar with spirals, Thailand, Late Ban Chiang, 300 bce–200 ce, Earthenware, Height: 8 5/16 in. (21.11 cm), Diameter: 7 7/8 in. (20 cm), Gift of Ambassador and Mrs. Edward E. Masters, LACMA, M.84.213.2. Photo © Museum Associates / LACMA. 93 Figure 5.1. Seven vessels from the Burmese regalia on display in the National Museum of Myanmar, Yangon, 2019. Photograph by Louise Tythacott. 112 Figure 5.2. Royal male headdress, 19th century. V&A picture, former museum number 241-1890 I.S. 113 Figure 5.3. Betel box in the form of a hintha or sacred goose. V&A museum number IS.246&a-1964. 125 Figure 5.4. Harp, wood and lacquer. V&A museum number IM.234-1927. 129

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Figure 5.5. Queen’s headdress, gold and gemstones. V&A museum number 02758(IS). Figure 6.1. Object grouping in the Đồng Dương gallery: Groups 1, 2, and 3. Photograph by Lý Hoà Bình, Museum of Cham Sculpture in Đà Nẵng. Figure 6.2. Group 1a of Devas. Photograph by Paisarn Piemmettawat, River Books Bangkok. Figure 6.3. Deva / Planetary deity [1935.147]. Cleveland Museum of Art. Figure 6.4. Buddha head sent to Guimet Museum of Asian Art [MG18897]. Photograph by Nguyễn H.H. Duyên. Figure 6.5. The current display of the Buddha [13.5]. Photograph by Paisarn Piemmettawat, River Books Bangkok. Figure 6.6. Rickshaw returned from France. Photograph by Huỳnh Thị Anh Vân, Museum of Royal Antiquities in Huế city. Figure 7.1. Friedrich Carl Albert Schreuel (attributed to), Portrait of Raden Syarif Bustaman Saleh, c. 1840, oil on canvas, 106.7 x 85.3 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam (Source: www.rijksmuseum.nl). Figure 7.2. Raden Saleh Sjarif Bustaman, Penangkapan Pangeran Diponegoro (The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro), 1857, oil on canvas, 112 x 179 cm, Koleksi Istana Kepresidenan Republik Indonesia (Palace Collection). Figure 7.3. Nicolaas Pieneman, De onderwerping van den Diepo Negoro aan luitenant-generaal baron De Kock, 1835, oil on canvas, 77 x 100 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam (Source: www.rijksmuseum.nl). Figure 7.4. Raden Saleh Sjarif Bustaman, Posthuum portret van Herman Willem Daendels (1762–1818). Gouvernor-generaal 1808–10, 1838, oil on canvas, 119 x 98 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam (Source: www.rijksmuseum.nl). Figure 8.1. Finger ring from the Lombok treasure, captured in 1894. RV-2364-15. Collection

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143–5 146 149 151 152 154

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Nationaal Museum van Wereldculturen, the Netherlands. 188 Figure 8.2. Finger ring from the Lombok treasure, captured in 1894. RV-2364-300. Collection Nationaal Museum van Wereldculturen, the Netherlands. 189 Figure 8.3. Heading an economic delegation, Dutch PM Mark Rutte hands over an old Buginese kris to Indonesian President Joko Widodo, on 26 November 2016. ANP/photographed by Jerry Lampen. 192 Figure 8.4. Golden Buginese kris. Museum Prinsenhof Delft. 193 Figure 8.5. Director Pieter Pott at the occasion of the transfer of the Prajnaparamita statue to Indonesia with the statue itself. RV-12420-2. Collection Nationaal Museum van Wereldculturen, the Netherlands. 198 Figure 8.6. Statue of Prince Diponegoro near National Monument, Jakarta, Indonesia. Photograph by Jos van Beurden. 200 Figure 9.1. Prajnaparamita statue, the goddess of transcendental wisdom. Collection of the National Museum of Indonesia. Inventory Number 1403/1387. 216 Figure 9.2. The gallery of the Museum of Antiquities, Leiden, in Magasin pittoresque November: 377 (Anonymous, 1861). Leiden University Libraries. 218 Figure 9.3. Prajnaparamita statue in the Ancestors and Ritual exhibition, 2017 Europalia Arts Festival. The exhibition showcases how Indonesian art and identities were influenced by other cultures and religions. Photograph by Nusi Lisabilla Estudiantin. 221 Figure 9.4. Prajnaparamita statue in the Ancestors and Ritual exhibition, 2017 Europalia Arts Festival. The statue was displayed on a plinth to enable visitors to appreciate its status as a masterpiece. Photograph by Daud Aris Tanudirjo. 228

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Figure 10.1. Figure 10.2. Figure 10.3. Figures 10.4a & b. Figure 10.5. Figure 11.1. Figure 11.2. Figure 11.3. Figure 11.4.

Bronze head from Ban Tanot discovered in 1961, Bangkok National Museum. Photograph by Phacharaphorn Phanomvan, 2017. One of the many Plai Bat sculptures outside Thailand, now identified by villagers as part of the group they looted and sold. Collection of the Metropolitan Museum of the Art, Rogers Fund 1969. Stone sculpture of Buddha in meditation with seven-headed naga from Buriram, Bangkok National Museum. Photograph by Phacharaphorn Phanomvan, 2017. Present state of Plai Bat 2 Temple from the southern side. Looters used explosives to get access to the main temple, only the inner chamber remains. Photographs by Thanongsak Hanwong, 2015. Standing Plai Bat Avalokiteshvara, Bangkok National Museum. Photograph by Phacharaphorn Phanomvan, 2017. Exterior of the National Museum, Yangon. Photograph by Charlotte Galloway. The Lion Throne, in the National Museum Yangon, repatriated in 1948. Photograph by Charlotte Galloway. One of a pair of Lokanat figures flanking the Lion Throne, repatriated to Myanmar in 1957. Photograph by Charlotte Galloway. Bagan-period Buddha, repatriated in 2013. Photograph by Charlotte Galloway.

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FOREWORD We welcome the present volume as a timely contribution to initiatives at the beating heart of an academia many are willing into existence today: people and places committed to free enquiry and critical thinking, and, crucially, to harnessing such intellectual practice to the preparation of students for the world of work while also shaping that world in the name of social justice. If we celebrate, still, the progress of knowledge, we do so knowing that, in its progressive quest, the university – like the museum – has historically also contributed to the simultaneous production and suppression of subaltern points of view. Even if articulated as promoting dialogues between multiple voices, such forms of representation have often muted rather than amplified the queer amongst them – those not conforming to the hegemonic models on which such dialogue is premised. Research on Object Restitution holds the promise of advancing our understanding of these difficult histories of exploitation at the heart of modern knowledge production as much as that of the long histories of the objects themselves. It also holds the promise of engendering new cultural, social and political perspectives as beholden to these histories as to contemporary negotiations of ownership – again, of things and of knowledge alike. With respect to our own institutional microcosm of SOAS University of London, the present volume bears two torches. The first is that of SOAS’s Southeast Asian Art Academic Programme (SAAAP). Funded by the Chicago Alphawood Foundation, SAAAP supports the development of Southeast Asian human resources in research, teaching, conservation and museology of Southeast Asia’s ancient Hindu-Buddhist art. Recognising the wide range of established Southeast Asian expertise in these fields – from that of the Buddhist practitioner to that of the professional archaeologist, nurturing understandings of such expertise, and seeking to further these and their impact in academic and professional milieux, the programme embeds a reflective emphasis on sites and modes of knowledge production. In this context, Object Restitution emerges as a privileged topos, where contested objects comprise common ground for divergent interpretations of meaning and function. In doing so, they variously highlight claims to local, national or universal significance. The second institutional torch borne by this volume is that of Decolonising SOAS, the university’s hub for research, collaboration and information on the decolonisation of higher education institutions. This organically evolving hub takes forward the decolonising agenda at SOAS,

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Foreword

and provides a forum for debate, resources and toolkits on the decolonising process in the hopes of creating a broader impact on other educational institutions and the wider community. ‘Decolonisation’ is understood as the effort to interrogate and transform the institutional, structural and epistemological legacies of colonialism, specifically where these produce injustices within higher education and barriers to knowledge and understanding. Within SOAS, the project has been established in response to strong student interest in ‘Decolonising the Curriculum’. It is part of an ongoing global decolonisation movement taking place across university campuses and public spaces from South Africa to Norway. Cultivating research on Southeast Asian Object Restitution by cultural heritage professionals based here and there, is, then, a means of addressing one of our fundamental challenges: how can we work towards the decolonisation of a field – Southeast Asian Hindu-Buddhist Art History – while maintaining the very definition of that field born of and integral to the discursive construction of colonial power? And how can we do this at SOAS, an institution whose history cannot be disentangled from Europe’s colonial past, the effects of which continue to resonate today? The task is daunting but urgent. One must acknowledge the imbrication of academic study and collecting of ancient Southeast Asian Hindu-Buddhist art in buttressing the project of empire. One must also challenge the myths of local Southeast Asian ignorance and indifference to ancient Hindu-Buddhist materials that underpinned narratives of their ‘discovery’ by men come from afar and armed with Science. One must track how local Southeast Asian settings have been stripped of venerated objects and physical supports to territorial organisation and collective memories well past the official temporal and geographic reach of colonial power in the region. This enables the sounding of local dimensions of conflicting claims to universal value on all sides and exposes the cynical instrumentalisation frequently at work in (re) appropriation processes. In the breadth of papers examining these issues here, we believe the present volume goes some way in assuming the complex responsibility of SAAAP’s mission and in responding to the decolonising imperative of our times.



Ashley Thompson and Pamela Corey Art & Archaeology of Southeast Asia Series Editors Meera Sabaratnam Chair, Decolonising SOAS Working Group

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This book was made possible as a result of the publishing partnership between National University of Singapore Press (NUS) and the Southeast Asian Art Academic Programme (SAAAP) at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), University of London. We would like to express our gratitude, above all, to Ashley Thompson and Pamela Corey, series editors for Art and Archaeology of Southeast Asia: Hindu-Buddhist Traditions, for their unfailing support, advice and exceptional editing over the past few years. We are grateful also to the Alphawood Foundation for their generous funding of SAAAP. At SOAS, we have been indebted to the SAAAP Programme office for their assistance – Alan Goulbourne, Liam Roberts, Olivia Burt, and Chloe Osborne. We also acknowledge the work of the series editorial committee: Claudine Bautze-Picron, Arlo Griffiths, Heng Piphal, Jinah Kim, Marijke Klokke, Christian Luczanits, Pierre-Yves Manguin, John Miksic, T.K. Sabapathy, Rasmi Shoocondej, Siyonn Sophearith, and Tran Ky Phuong. Our special thanks go to Peter Schoppert and Lena Qua at NUS Press for expert guidance, advice and enthusiasm throughout the preparation of this volume. We are grateful to two anonymous peer reviewers for their constructive feedback on an earlier draft of the manuscript. We thank Margaret McCormack for excellent indexing, Susan Maingay for speedy and superb translations of French texts, and Pierre Baptiste, who, through a chance conversation with Ashley Thompson several years ago, made this entire project seem feasible in the first place. The volume editors would also like to thank their families for their forbearance over the book’s long process of gestation.

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Chapter 1

INTRODUCTION: COLLECTING AND RETURNING SOUTHEAST ASIA’S PAST

Louise Tythacott and Panggah Ardiyansyah

INTRODUCTION Returning Southeast Asia’s Past explores the lives of artefacts which have been repatriated from the West to museums in Southeast Asia and is the first edited volume entirely devoted to object restitution to this region of the world. With contributions from museum professionals and scholars in Cambodia, Thailand, Vietnam and Indonesia – as well as Europe, North America and Australia – the book is organised around object case studies: the removal of Khmer material by the French in the early 20th century and the restitution of Koh Ker antiquities to Cambodia in the 21st century (Abbe, and Chea, Muong and Tythacott); the repatriation of the “Mandalay Regalia” from the Victoria & Albert Museum (V&A) in 1964, as well as more recent returns to Myanmar (Clarke and Galloway). Other contributors focus on issues concerning the retention of ancient Ban Chiang archaeological material, and the impact of social media on contemporary acts of restitution to Thailand (Rod-ari and Phanomvan); displays and the potential repatriations of Buddhist antiquities at the Museum of Cham Sculpture in Vietnam (Nguyễn); the transfer of the Prajnaparamita statue in 1978, and more recent returns, from the Netherlands to Indonesia (Sapardan, Beurden and Ardiyansyah). Over the past decades, there has been a range of publications which examine, broadly, the histories of looted objects and the illicit trade in antiquities, as well as the restitution of objects from Western museums.1 Some focus on the return of material to specific parts of the world – Liu on China; Schmidt and McIntosh on Africa; Turnbull and Pickering on the Pacific; Beurden on the Netherlands; and Lafont on Cambodia.2 While a number of publications document the looting of objects from Southeast Asia,3 as yet there have been no books entirely devoted to restitution to this region of the world.4

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Hindu-Buddhist antiquities largely dominate the field of restitution to Southeast Asia – though they are not the exclusive material returned – and the essays thus add new dimensions to the study of the meanings and values attributed to these objects which have long been the privileged focus of dominant art historical study in the region in its association with collecting.5 Importantly, the book is innovative in terms of its representation of multiple perspectives, for it combines the viewpoints of Southeast Asian museum and heritage professionals with reflections of curators and others involved in restitution in the West. Southeast Asian countries suffered an unprecedented loss of cultural heritage over the past 150 years, in part through colonial appropriation, looting and illicit trafficking, resulting in extensive collections of archaeological and art objects now located across the world in museums and private collections.6 With new configurations of political power in the region, in certain Southeast Asian countries, relations with former colonial regimes have prompted questions about the representation and ownership of cultural materials held in museums and private collections in Europe and the United States. In this volume, for example, both Nguyễn and Rod-ari query who should own Cham or Ban Chiang art respectively, while Phanomvan highlights the recent impact of social media in facilitating grassroots responses to the restitution of objects in countries such as Thailand. The overarching narrative for the return of Southeast Asian objects to the region has been the call for restoring cultural heritage. As such, the process is politically motivated and often framed as bringing home what rightfully belongs to a given nation. Here objects and heritage are clearly embroiled in larger questions of identity, nationalism, and self-determination. While several chapters in this volume focus on the cultural, diplomatic and legal issues surrounding the repatriation process (Rod-ari, Chea, Muong and Tythacott, Clarke, Beurden, and Galloway), others demonstrate that the process of collecting and returning contributes to the construction of national identity (Abbe, Nguyễn, Ardiyansyah, Sapardan, and Phanomvan). This book argues, fundamentally, that the process of object restitution should not simply be conceptualised as “loss” on the part of the present owner, but reconceptualised as “gain” in relation to knowledge, relationships and understanding. 7 As Curtis has asserted, more important than the actual return of objects, is the “lasting relationships with the communities to whom items were repatriated”.8 This can be seen, in particular, with Sapardan’s chapter, where she analyses the return of cultural property to Indonesia, and the subsequent exhibitions of repatriated material, as a means to promote international cooperation and diplomacy.

Introduction

Nonetheless, it needs to be noted that repatriated material can be both used and abused by the giver and receiver. Couched in terms of cultural patrimony and guardianship, the narratives constructed around such objects can be a powerful tool for those who seek legitimacy. It is unsurprising that much attention has been given to the restitution of Hindu-Buddhist materials – often considered vital emblems of cultural and national identity in Southeast Asia – hence the utmost importance is attributed to protecting them. This backdrop sets the volume’s framework and objective, which is to highlight the complex geo-political entanglements behind these specific cultural manifestations. As such, multiple perspectives are sought in dealing with contemporary issues related to heritage formation, nation building, postcolonialism and decolonisation. As a result of the book’s emphasis on Hindu-Buddhist material, areas such as the Philippines, East Timor and Malaysia, where Hindu-Buddhist elements are not a prominent means to forge national identity and unity, have not been addressed. In order to provide a context for the ensuing chapters, this introduction first discusses the practices of collecting Southeast Asian objects in the colonial period. It moves on to explore the looting and illicit trafficking of art and antiquities, which is still occurring well into the 21st century despite the many international laws and regulations currently in place, and it ends by providing a brief history of repatriations to the region, as well as the role of museums in articulating the changing values and meanings attributed to objects which have been returned. COLLECTING SOUTHEAST ASIA IN THE COLONIAL PERIOD Wintle has remarked on the particular position of artefacts “at the heart of empire” as “much of the colonial project was about material exploitation”9 – and it is not surprising, therefore, to note that colonial structures from the early 19th century onwards enabled the removal of large quantities of cultural material from Southeast Asia. A number of chapters in this volume address such histories of appropriation (Abbe, Chea, Muong and Tythacott, Clarke, Nguyễn, Ardiyansyah, Beurden, Sapardan, and Galloway). Western imperial policies had profound impacts on Southeast Asia, with the British annexing Burma as part of British India in the 19th century, as well as colonising present-day Malaysia and Singapore. The French dominated Cambodia, Vietnam and Laos from the 19th century; the Dutch controlled Java and other parts of Indonesia through trading activities conducted by the VOC (Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie/ Dutch East India Company) from the beginning of the 17th century, to

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be succeeded by the East Indies colonial administration from the early 19th century until the first half of the 20th century, and interrupted only by the British interregnum on Java between 1811 and 1816; Spain ruled the Philippines until 1898, while in the 18th century, Portugal colonised East Timor. Further historical research is needed to reveal the processes whereby objects entered Europe from Southeast Asia, but it is clear that by the late 19th century, the profile of collections of major museums in the “mother countries”10 had been shaped by artefacts from their respective Southeast Asian possessions.11 As a result, Dutch collections today contain much Indonesian material, French museums hold a preponderance of Cambodian and Vietnamese objects, and British museums disproportionately represent Burmese and Malaysian artefacts as part of their Southeast Asian collections. The complexity of motivations for collecting in the colonial period has been well documented in the academic literature.12 As Gosden and Knowles observe, until 1900 collecting was largely opportunistic.13 Most brutal were the military campaigns, with the looting and scavenging of material by soldiers.14 There were the pursuits of anthropologists, connoisseurs, scientists, botanists, archaeologists, missionaries and colonial administrators in Southeast Asia, the mercantile interests of traders and merchants, and the souvenir collecting of wealthy travellers. It should not be forgotten, however, that the removal of material to the West was not always entirely forced. There were periodic gifts from Southeast Asian elites to Europeans – such as those from the Embassy of Siam to Napoleon III in 1861, or King Mindon’s presentation of a gold bowl to the French Infantry Officer, Captain Moreau, in 1874.15 Earlier in 1833, King Nang Klao of Siam (r. 1824–51) started a gift exchange with the US to express bilateral agreements and friendship.16 One local ruler in Java, Adie Pattij Tjakra Diningrat, presented a Madurese kris with a cross ornament representing Militaire Willemsorde – signifying the hybridity of the object – to General P.F. Hoeksema de Groot in 1830s.17 Once an important symbol of the tributary system in ancient Southeast Asia, these gift-giving practices were modified – with their own peculiarities – by royal and local elites as part of a distinct strategy to promote alliance, power and modernity in the face of competing colonial interests within the region. This book, therefore, does not suggest that all Southeast Asian material collected in the colonial period was unjustly taken and should thus be returned. Nevertheless, chapters focus on processes of transfer which today are considered unethical, occurring at particularly vulnerable moments in Southeast Asian history. The complexities of British engagements with Burma (now Myanmar) are identified by Clarke and Galloway in chapters 5 and 11. The three

Introduction

Anglo-Burmese wars during the course of the 19th century (1824–26; 1852 and 1885) culminated in the annexation of Burma in 1886, and subsequent direct rule as a province of British India. As a result, a range of British travellers, administrators, missionaries and soldiers were able to live, explore, exploit, control – and collect – these colonised territories. In the early 19th century, for instance, British Navy Officer Frederick Marryat, acquired more than 170 objects during his service in the First Anglo-Burmese war. Green notes how some of these would have been bought as military loot. Two important pieces from Marryat are presently in the British Museum – a dry lacquer Buddha statue and a large footprint of the Buddha.18 Numbers of regimental museums in Britain also hold plundered material from 19th-century military conflicts – the Essex Regiment museum displays a marble Burmese Buddha, and the King’s (Liverpool) Regiment possesses three Buddha statues displayed in the Museum of Liverpool with the word “looted” on their labels. Many of King Thibaw’s thrones were taken by the British during the sacking of his palace in Mandalay in 1885, one of which is now exhibited in the World Museum Liverpool. The “Mandalay Regalia” too was looted in 1885, which, up until 1964, was located at the V&A before being repatriated to Burma (see Clarke, chapter 5). As a result of the British colonisation of Burma, a new trend of upper-class tourism emerged at the end of the 19th century. By 1891, for example, Thomas Cook and Son opened an office in Rangoon, advertising the country as “charming”.19 Amongst his many examples of ethnographic and natural history objects, the wealthy tea merchant, Frederick Horniman (1835–1906) acquired souvenirs from Southeast Asia.20 In 1895–96, he visited Burma, spending time in Rangoon, before travelling to Upper Burma.21 Horniman purchased much of his collection from dealers, in particular Felice Beato in Mandalay.22 He also obtained trophies of war – a metre high marble Buddha from a Lieutenant Colonel Peile – stolen from a temple in Upper Burma, yet described as having been “rescued” by General Sr R. Low.23 In the first half of the 20th century, British collecting in Burma only increased. James Henry Green (1893–1975), for example, was able to amass a substantial group of Kachin textiles in his role as recruiting officer with the 85th Burma Rifles in the 1920s.24 Arriving in 1918, he acquired material directly from people in the remote border areas over a 20-year period, and the resulting collections are now distributed between Brighton Museum & Art Gallery as well as the Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford.25 By the 1930s, however, Green was becoming critical of British colonial endeavours, asserting in his MA dissertation at Cambridge that Burmese peoples and cultures had in fact suffered from foreign presence in their country.26

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In Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam, the French performed the dominant collecting role.27 As noted by Abbe in chapter 2, by the early 20th century officials, administrators, sailors, artists and scientists were in the habit of picking up material during their travels.28 With an influx of tourists in the 1920s, many things were stolen,29 the most notorious being André Malraux’s (1901–76) removal of statues from Banteay Srei in Angkor in 1923. Malraux – writer, art critic and later Minister of Information (1945–46) under De Gaulle and, subsequently, France’s first Minister of Cultural Affairs (1959–69) – was arrested and the objects returned.30 While a new decree for the protection of archaeological sites and artefacts came into French law in 1925,31 such legislation did not stem the tide of removals. Indeed, a formal system of selection was introduced soon after. Abbe (chapter 2) analyses the use and abuse of such a system in facilitating the sale of Angkorian artefacts to Europe and North America. As

Fig. 1.1 André Malraux, with a Gandhara Buddha, circa 1933 © Albert Harlingue / Roger-Viollet.

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Introduction

Nagashima asserts, “Ever since a French explorer ‘discovered’ the Angkor ruins in a remote jungle, the national treasures have been the object of constant looting”.32 Nguyễn (chapter 6) relates, too, how many pieces of Cham sculpture were removed from Vietnam by the French – both scholars and colonial administrators – in the early 20th century. Meanwhile the Dutch collected material from the many islands in Indonesia, a practice evidently present from the start of their cultural interaction. When in 1597 the first Dutch ships had just returned from the Indonesian archipelago, the librarian of Leiden University received from one of the merchants “a manuscript written in a script unknown to him”.33 An academic interest was thus clearly present, as being able to speak a foreign language and gather knowledge of the natural world by way of collecting and studying objects was a sign of individual pride and a mark of higher social status.34 Objects from faraway places, including those from insular Southeast Asia, were often termed “curiosities”. More often than not, and while objects sometimes could be celebrated on their own merit, the creation of cabinets of curiosities was intended to organise material into meaningful and insightful ways of understanding the world.35 The various methods of collecting objects historically by Dutch individuals and museums are outlined by Beurden in chapter 8. In particular, the collecting practices of Hindu-Buddhist antiquities in Indonesia that started to flourish at the beginning of the 19th century mainly focused on the island of Java, where the centre of colonial authority – the Dutch East Indies administration – was located, and whose soil had yielded many metal and stone artefacts dating from the 5th to 15th centuries. The Western collecting drive for Javanese antiquities arguably began when antiquarianism started to seep into the minds of colonial officials. In the late 18th–early 19th century, two notable antiquarian figures were influential in setting the tone for later systemised and institutionalised modes of collecting. Nicolaus Engelhard (1761– 1831), a Dutch high official, had begun his service for the VOC in 1778 on Java. Notably, he served as the governor of Java’s northeast coast from 1801–08. Engelhard notoriously used his position to remove beautiful stone sculptures from temple ruins and employed them as curiosities in decorating the private garden of his residence in Semarang. The most well-known case was in 1804 when he took several statues from Singasari temple, located near Malang, East Java.36 The other figure, Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles (1781–1826), was appointed Lieutenant GovernorGeneral during the British interregnum on Java. On the one hand, the enthusiastic study by Raffles of Javanese antiquities – as part of his larger scientific investigation of the island – has been widely celebrated, especially through the appreciation of his book, The History of Java (1817). On the other hand, he is also responsible for the majority of

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9

Introduction

objects, originating from the Indonesian archipelago, being removed to Britain. In 1816 he successfully managed to despatch more than 30 tons of Javanese and other “curiosities and treasures” by the vessel, the Ganges.37 Most of these were later donated to the British Museum in 1859 by his nephew, Rev. William Charles Raffles Flint. Engelhard and Raffles had set a popular precedent for Dutch officials and Western visitors to the island around the first half of the 19th century.38 A well-known instance is the displacement of the famed Prajnaparamita statue from the Singasari temple complex by D. Monnereau in 1818, a sculpture which later found its way to the National Museum of Ethnology in Leiden, the Netherlands (as discussed by Sapardan in chapter 9). The Dutch East Indies authority consequently issued a decree in 1840 to prohibit the export of antiquities from Java, except with the permission of the Governor-General, and only if sent to the Netherlands. However, while seemingly virtuous in its motivation, this decision was actually initiated by Jean Chrétien Baud (1789–1859), then Minister for the Colonies, who was concerned that the scientific survey about to be undertaken by a French archaeologist in Java would include object collecting.39 While the decree failed to stop the illegal trading of antiquities by lower ranking colonial officials,40 it was nonetheless a significant moment in the collecting practice of Javanese antiquities, and was the beginning of the systematic acquisition of objects by museums in Batavia and Leiden. The decree was subsequently complemented by another, in 1842, requiring Dutch residents to compile a list of antiquities in their possession. The Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences (Bataviaasch Genootschap van Kunsten en Wetenschappen) – hereafter the Batavian Society – was authorised to selectively buy and gather the objects listed. By 1848, the museum of the Batavian Society had managed to assemble 400 Javanese artefacts.41 Later, in 1862, the government decreed that the collection should be divided between the Netherlands and its East Indies colony.42 The Batavian Society was authorised to select objects deemed exceptional to be kept in Batavia, while those considered duplicates could be sent to Leiden for storage and display. From the Museum of Antiquities, everything from Java – and from all regions in Indonesia – was transferred in 1903 to the National Museum of Ethnology in Leiden. Beurden (chapter 8) identifies how the legal issues – including object provenance, ownership, and change of policy – influenced, and were dealt with, in the process of repatriating some of the regalia, ancient statues and ethnographic material to Indonesia in the 1970s and 2010s. Furthermore, Ardiyansyah (chapter 7) argues that part of the 1970s restitution was less about contesting object legality and more about recognising and agreeing on the sentimental values attached to things.

Fig. 1.2 Head of a Buddha in the collection of the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, probably from Borobudur.

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Thailand provides a different picture of collecting. From the 19th and well into the 20th century, collecting was pursued by Thai elites, an exercise that was, and still is, driven by what scholars term “royal antiquarianism”.43 This particular mode of collecting and studying ancient objects was an instrument of the Siamese elites in their quest to be a “civilised” nation, especially at a time when Thailand was the only independent state in the region.44 The earliest recorded activities by King Mongkut (r. 1851–68) were known through John Bowring, the British envoy of Queen Victoria to Bangkok, as he was shown the royal cabinet of curiosities.45 Mongkut had identified, in 1833, the throne and stele of King Ramkhamhaeng from the 13th century, which he later ordered to be displayed at Wat Phra Keo, the main royal temple inside the palace.46 His son, Chulalongkorn (r. 1868–1910), had similar interests in antiquarianism and archaeological study. Assisted by his half-brother, Prince Damrong, Chulalongkorn bolstered the royal collection, which he promoted as a way of educating the public.47 Over time the practice was imported by local Bangkok collectors as a means to establish social status by framing themselves as the protectors of national heritage.48 Between the 1950s and the 1970s, Thai elites like Princess Pantip Chumbhot and Princess Viphavadi Rangsit amassed large collections of antiquities ranging from traditional collectibles such as antique Buddha images to new types of objects, including ceramics such as those from Ban Chiang (see Rod-ari, chapter 4).49 Inspired by these elites, hundreds of people had already begun collecting antiquities in Bangkok by the early 1970s.50 In 2019, Thai businessman and collector, Thammarit Jira, handed over 104 objects from Ban Chiang to the Thai Fine Arts Department, claiming that it had been the intention of his family to donate the assemblage to the state government when the collection was started several decades before.51 As such, the tradition of collecting antiquities was being employed to elevate status in the social hierarchy. Of note is that in the past decades this elite endeavour has gradually shifted and been utilised by local historians and archaeologists to gain a platform for enhancing more localised cultural identity, as discussed by Phanomvan in chapter 10. With so many antiquities consumed domestically, there was an absence of the systematic removal of cultural objects from Thailand to the West. Thus, individual foreign art connoisseurs-cum-collectors were instrumental in the development of Thai as well as other Southeast Asian art collections, in various museums around the world. Reginald Le May (1885–1972), an ex-British consul in Chiang Mai and an Honorary Member of the Siam Society, was an important figure in the development of Thai art history. Publishing A Concise History of Buddhist Art in Siam in 1938, he avidly collected ancient Buddhist sculpture, especially from Thailand’s northern region where many temples were erected between the

Introduction

10th and 14th centuries.52 Objects collected during his fieldwork can now be found in the British Museum and the Horniman Museum in the UK. Another figure categorised as a scholar-cum-collector is Alexander B. Griswold (1901–91). As a member of the US army, he was stationed in Bangkok during the Second World War, and afterwards became fascinated by the history and culture of Thailand. By 1948 he started to assemble photographs and images of the Buddha as “tools for study”. He later published various articles and books on Thai arts, and today his collection is distributed between two institutions, Cornell University in New York, and the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore.53 A different approach is that of the foreign industrialists who boasted personal art collections, such as Avery Brundage (1887–1975) and Norton Simon (1907–93). Brundage developed his collection of Asian art between the 1930s and the late 1950s, when he decided to donate most of it to the Asian Art Museum of San Francisco – Chong-Moon Lee Center for Asian Art and Culture. Concurrently, Simon amassed his vast collection of Western and Eastern art in the mid-20th century; in the late 1970s he acquired and renamed the Pasadena Museum of Modern Art the Norton Simon Museum, to which most of his art collection was transferred. The Norton Simon Museum would later repatriate a Koh Ker statue of Bhima to Cambodia, as discussed by Chea, Muong and Tythacott in chapter 3. Meanwhile, a brief survey into the engagements among colonial scholars and regional elite figures between the late 19th century and the beginning of the 20th century reveals a different trajectory in terms of intra-regional movements in Southeast Asia. Horace Geoffrey Quaritch Wales (1900–81), for instance, was active in the 1930s in organising archaeological digs and investigating ancient cultures in Thailand and the Malay Peninsula. As a member of the Greater-Indian Research Committee, he started his investigation in Si Thep in west-central Thailand in 1935–36, before moving on, a year later, with his wife, Dorothy C. Quaritch Wales, to the archaeological sites of the Bujang Valley on the western coast of the Malay Peninsula. Objects collected from the excavations, including a rare Buddha figurine, ritual deposits, and miniature objects, were subsequently donated to the Raffles Museum, founded in Singapore in 1874. Today these collections can still be found in the renamed Asian Civilisations Museum. Another example, but in a different context, is the movement of Javanese artefacts to Bangkok in the late 19th century. The second visit by Rama V of Siam (as Thailand was known before it changed its name in 1939) to the island in 1896 resulted in collecting eight cargos filled with stone objects from the sites of Borobudur, Prambanan and Singasari.54 The items were carefully selected by the king, with consent given by the governor general of the Dutch East Indies colonial administration. Upon

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arrival in Bangkok, the collection was received as “diplomatic gifts” and immediately displayed in front of the royal palace to be celebrated by the Thai public.55 The collection was then dispersed to Wat Phra Keo compound, Bangkok National Museum and royal monasteries in Bangkok. Following a diplomatic enterprise by Dutch archaeologist, P.V. van Stein Callenfels, who met with French scholar George Coedès and Prince Damrong Rajanubhab – two of the most important figures in the study and conservation of Siamese antiquities – when visiting Bangkok in September 1926, three carved blocks from Prambanan were sent back to Java to be included in the reconstruction of a Shiva temple started in the late 1920s.56 Interestingly, today the Bangkok National Museum has framed this particular history, as well as the existence of Javanese artefacts in the museum, as demonstrating that Thailand and Indonesia built their close relationship more than a century ago – despite the fact that Indonesia, as a nation-state, only came into being in the 1940s.57 The Javanese antiquities presented to Rama V were not only given by the Dutch East Indies authority but also by the local ruler from Solo, Mangkunegara VI (r. 1896–1916). Four Buddha statues – supposedly originating from Plaosan temple – were handed over,58 which in turn reveals Mangkunegara VI as a keen collector of ancient statues. Presumably inspired by his father, Mangkunegara VII (r. 1916–44) was also known in local archaeological circles as an impassioned collector of Hindu-Buddhist antiquities. Objects from his collection, such as small bronze statues, were periodically surveyed and documented by the Archaeological Service (Oudheidkundige Dienst) of the Dutch East Indies.59 Interestingly, a year after his visit to the Colonial Institute, Amsterdam, in 1937, he requested a plaster copy of the Singasari Prajnaparamita, demonstrating firstly how the icon has been continuously treasured by Javanese elites and secondly how a replica might be imbued with similar qualities to the original.60 This historical episode serves as an additional consideration in thinking about issues relating to contemporary restitution calls from Southeast Asia. LOOTING, ACCUMULATING AND TRADING SOUTHEAST ASIA’S PAST Looting is not a recent phenomenon in Southeast Asia, for it occurred long before the European colonisation of the region. Widely revered icons and important symbols, embroiled in power struggles between various states, for example, were often taken and re-installed in new locations. The remarkable odyssey of a unique set of Khmer bronze statues, brought from one triumphant mainland capital to the next over the course of centuries demonstrates this phenomenon. These late 12th-century bronze

Introduction

statues were brought from Angkor to the Siamese capital of Ayutthaya in the 15th century, then to the Mon capital of Pegu in the 16th, to the Arakanese capital of Mrauk-U in the 17th, to finally land in the 18th century in the Burmese capital of Mandalay, where they are venerated by locals today.61 Another example is the widely worshipped Mahamuni Buddha, originally from Arakan, and re-housed in Mandalay, along with the Khmer bronzes, after Burmese King Bodawpaya (r. 1782–1819) successfully captured the kingdom in 1784.62 Phaya Tani, a large cannon now on display outside the Ministry of Defence in Bangkok, was taken after the Siamese army broke Patani defences in 1786.63 Later colonial structures thus only served to complicate the landscape of looting – whether carried out by individuals, such as Raffles and Malraux, or as part of organised military campaigns. When the era of Western colonisation ended with national independence for Southeast Asian countries in the 1940s and 1950s,64 it was followed, soon after, by devastating conflicts, especially on the mainland. While evident looting in the 1950s and 1960s was associated with increased foreign travel to the region, it reached a critical level during the Vietnam War (1955–75), the Khmer Rouge regime (1975–79) and the Cambodian-Vietnamese War (1978–89).65 Rod-ari (chapter 4) notes the appropriation of archaeological material from Ban Chiang in Thailand from the 1960s to 1970s linked to US air force bases in the country and the resulting concentration of artefacts today, specifically in Californian museums. Nguyễn (chapter 6) identifies how the ninth-century Đồng Dương Buddhist monastery was reduced to rubble during the Vietnam War and subsequently looted. In Cambodia, many pieces were taken by the Khmer Rouge from Angkor as well as further afield from other temples in the 1970s – the proceeds from the looting of antiquities being used to bolster Pol Pot’s government.66 Most devastating was the emptying, by the Khmer Rouge, of the Battambang Museums – the third most comprehensive collection in the country after the Angkor Conservation Office and the National Museum of Cambodia.67 The smuggling and illicit trade in Khmer antiquities, however, only increased after the end of the civil war in the 1990s. Indeed, most HinduBuddhist antiquities were taken from Cambodia in the mid-to-late 1990s, as a result of the opening up of the region to international trade.68 The looting and illicit smuggling of antiquities from Cambodia to Thailand reached a peak in the late 1990s and into the early 21st century.69 This volume examines in particular thefts which occurred at Koh Ker – the tenth-century capital built by Jayavarman IV (see Chea, Muong and Tythacott, chapter 3). Once protected through its remote location, the construction of a road in the 1970s led to its opening up and the subsequent looting of artefacts.70 Many sites were plundered elsewhere in

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Fig. 1.3 Banteay Chhmar wall, Cambodia. Photograph by Christian Luczanits, 2015.

Louise Tythacott and Panggah Ardiyansyah

Cambodia.71 The most renowned case was the removal, by the military, in 1999, of a large section of wall with unique carvings, and other sections, from the important site of Banteay Chhmar, described as the “largest looting operation of Cambodian cultural property in recent history”.72 Hundreds of soldiers used heavy machinery for weeks to remove an almost 12-metre long section (this likely to have been privately commissioned).73 Fortunately, Thai police stopped the trucks and the sculptures were later returned to Cambodia. These are now in the National Museum in Phnom Penh, though two panels are still missing.74 By 2004, Lafont was arguing that hardly anywhere in the world had plundering reached such a scale as in Cambodia, estimating that hundreds of thousands of objects had been taken.75 Indeed, authorities in Cambodia believe that between 1986 and 2003 over half the country’s statuary and heritage had been looted.76 Thailand has been the main intermediary and transit country for the illegal distribution of Cambodian antiquities, with the Thai-Cambodian border being particularly porous.77 Indeed, over half the Cambodian antiquities circulating in the global market are believed to have been relocated via Thailand.78 Looted Khmer antiquities have been transported from Cambodia/Thailand, in particular, to the US and Europe (especially France, Belgium and Switzerland) and Japan, where market demand is greatest.79 Some statues have been specifically ordered, others sold at auction and can be found today in public museums and private collections.80 Cambodian artefacts have appeared in major auction houses around the world with unreliable provenance.81 According to Hauser-

1.3

Introduction

Schäublin, Sotheby’s auctioned 377 Khmer antiquities between 1988 and 2010, of which, 71 per cent had no clear historical records.82 As far back as 1851, Thailand issued a regulation to prevent looting at royal temples, and though this was updated in 1934, 1943, and 1961 to include all types of archaeological and historic sites, the result has been minimal.83 The illegal trading of antiquities is a lucrative business both for domestic and international markets, which has prompted digging and looting of archaeological sites.84 In the 1960s, many ancient stone and bronze sculptures and decorative elements from temple complexes in north-eastern Thailand, such as those in Phimai and Plai Bat, were found to be missing, having been detached from the temple walls in the 1960s and 1970s (see Phanomvan, chapter 10). Ian C. Glover, a British archaeologist working extensively in the country, witnessed first-hand the looting activities conducted in U-Thong, Krabi and Khao Sam Kaeo in the 1970s and 1980s.85 When the site of Ban Chiang was found to offer up abundant ancient pottery in the 1960s, this prompted local digging for the international market (see Rod-ari, chapter 4). A survey team from the Institute of Archaeology of the University of London and the Division of Archaeology of the Fine Arts Department of Thailand discovered that ceramics and others objects from various sites in Buriram province had already been extensively looted between 1982 and 1983.86 The fact that ceramics from stoneware kilns of Sisatchanalai and burial sites of TakOmkoi had flooded Chiang Mai and Bangkok markets between 1986 and 1988 reveals a multiplication of localised looting in Thailand.87 More importantly, local actors from various regions in Southeast Asia have played an active role in supplying illegal antiquities both for domestic and international markets. The Lower Mekong Archaeological Project found that by the early 2000s local district and provincial officials were willing participants in the local antiquities trade.88 Cambodian farmers living near archaeological sites too have supplemented their incomes by searching for, and trading in, small objects such as ceramics, glass beads, bronze items, and other valuable artefacts.89 Subsistence looting is not uncommon too in Myanmar, Thailand and the Philippines.90 Particularly in Myanmar, the literate younger generation is more susceptible to the promise of easy money by selling Iron Age items to local collectors and tourists, as they tend to reject the spiritual powers connected to these artefacts.91 Meanwhile, seasonal workers such as farmers and fishermen use their seasonal down time to hunt for saleable artefacts.92 Local buyers round up collected items and present them to antiquities dealers from the cities during their regular buying trips.93 Authentic objects can be found among replicas in public markets, such as those of River City and Chattuchak Market in Bangkok, the “Russian” Market in Phnom Penh, and Jalan Surabaya in Jakarta. In some cases, such

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as looted objects from Trowulan in Indonesia, ancient materials are presented as new replicas through the production of fake provenance.94 The market may stem from the popularisation of Asian art from the early 1990s, which not only developed legitimate sales but triggered illicit trade and the illegal export of antiquities, though the market in Southeast Asian art has avoided the same international attention as the destruction and looting of archaeological sites in the Middle East.95 Bangkok is often cited as the main gateway for antiquities from Cambodia, Myanmar, Laos and Thailand, as well as China, for export overseas.96 It is common for the Bangkok dealers to hire looters who undertake excavations and plundering, responding to market demand.97 Singapore plays its part as an intermediary agent for Bangkok, while Hong Kong provides a space outside the region for the international market.98 However, it should also be acknowledged that not every looted or illegally excavated object is necessarily exported to countries outside Southeast Asia. Though the percentage is still unclear, many antiquities have been consumed by national and provincial government officials, as well as wealthy families, up until today, as seen in Cambodia, Thailand, the Philippines and Indonesia.99 It has also been observed elsewhere that the current looting at Vườn Chuối is mainly directed to serve local Vietnamese collectors.100 Lastly, a recent dimension of the antiquities trade in Southeast Asia is the development of the online market created through the opening up of internet access. Particularly for the Thai market, various kinds of small objects, such as jewellery, coins and ornaments, have been commonly offered for sale through social media platforms.101 Because old beads from Dawei and Tanintharyi in Myanmar are frequently sought after, these objects are posted online accompanied by book illustrations – seemingly to prove the authenticity of the items offered.102 While the objects traded may or may not be original, this new system has purportedly widened the network of local antiquities hunters and dealers in trading valuable archaeological artefacts. RETURNING SOUTHEAST ASIA’S PAST While much collecting during the colonial period – especially the looting as part of military campaigns – was clearly unethical by the standards of today, such activities in the 19th century and early-mid 20th century were not in fact illegal. In the wake of the plundering and havoc caused by the Second World War, the Hague Convention (1954) was the first international agreement to ban the destruction of cultural property during armed conflict.103 The most influential treaty in times of peace, however, has been the 1970 UNESCO Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of

Introduction

Ownership of Cultural Property which, for the first time, provided a legal basis for the recovery of looted cultural material, enabling countries which have signed the convention to request the return of stolen material. In 1995, the UNIDROIT Convention on Stolen or Illegally Exported Cultural Objects complemented the UNESCO Convention by adding a private law dimension.104 These, combined, are now the most significant international agreements for the protection of cultural property and the prevention of looting and illicit trafficking of objects in peacetime.105 However, these conventions are not without their problems in terms of implementation and in defining the exact criteria needed for the return of material culture, and they are not retro-active. While Cambodia was amongst the first to ratify the 1970 UNESCO convention in 1972, at the time of writing, Thailand and Indonesia have yet to sign it.106 Cambodia, in particular, has been pro-active in past decades in relation to the reclamation of its cultural heritage. In 1993, the Cambodian constitution identified the need to preserve and restore archaeological and historic sites and punish looting.107 The country passed a law, for example, in 1996 for the protection of its cultural assets and signed, in 2000, a Bilateral Agreement with Thailand to Combat Against Illicit Trafficking and Cross-Border Smuggling of Movable Cultural Property and to Restitute it to the Country of Origin – although, this too, is not retroactive.108 The US-Cambodia Cultural Property Agreement (2003) was extended for five years in 2008, and again in 2013.109 The National Museum of Cambodia, in particular, has actively collaborated with UNESCO to publish missing objects in Battambang provincial museums. Detailed inventories and collection documentation systems are clearly vital. The important book, One hundred missing objects: Looting in Angkor (1993), for example, led to the restitution of ten objects to Cambodia, from US, France, Switzerland and Germany.110 The publication, Missing Objects from the Wat Po Veal and Battambang Provincial Museums (2015), describing 67 lost artefacts, was also intended to trigger the restitution of artefacts. In this volume, Rod-ari outlines some of the key legislation regarding Thai material (chapter 4), while Galloway discusses the passing of the Antiquities Act in Myanmar (chapter 11). In Indonesia, cultural heritage protection laws were initiated with the issuance of Monumenten Ordannantie number 19 by the Dutch East Indies government in 1931. This stated that ownership of all archaeological sites and artefacts fell into the hands of the state government and that compensation would be paid when such sites and artefacts, found on private lands, were included in the state inventory.111 It was subsequently adopted as national law when Indonesia gained independence in the 1940s, and only updated five decades or so later with the stipulation of National Law Number 5 Year 1992 regarding Cultural

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Properties. In particular, the law prohibited movement of cultural property from its original site and criminalised those involved. The 1992 law was put into effect when, in 2007, it was found that several statues from the collection of Radya Pustaka Museum, Solo, were copies while the originals had been sold to art dealers and private collectors. Following a police investigation, its former director, along with two employees, were sentenced to 18 months and 14 months in jail respectively. The law was updated once more in 2010 to include a clause for foreigners, who are permanent residents, to be able to own cultural property, though their material must remain within Indonesia. The postcolonial period in Southeast Asia – with ASEAN developing over the course of the Cold War and the complex rise of independent nation-states as part of a defined “Southeast Asian” region – has been clearly conducive to the emergence of a region-wide consciousness of lost antiquities and the need to recall them home. While restitution is now one of the key issues facing Western museums in the 21st century, Southeast Asian politico-cultural actors and institutions have also become increasingly active in triggering, conceiving and managing calls for the repatriation of antiquities and works of art (see especially chapters by Sapardan, Beurden, Ardiyansyah, Phanomvan, and Chea, Muong and Tythacott in this volume). Indeed, this has become a core, if not the core concern of many Southeast Asian museums, ministries and heritage organisations (see Sapardan, chapter 9). What is so often conceived as a movement starting in the West is thus more complex than first imagined – and the rise of this phenomenon has led to increasing Southeast Asian activism, agency and expertise in the field of cultural heritage. Nonetheless, it is worthy of note that object restitution is not an exclusively postcolonial phenomenon. For example, regalia from Bone and Gowa kingdoms in South Sulawesi, among them royal crowns, weapons and parasols, were returned in 1931 by museums in Leiden and, in 1937–38, by the museum of the Batavian Society upon request from the Bone and Gowa rulers.113 The first post-independence returns of material to Southeast Asia occurred in the 1960s and 1970s: two of the most renowned examples are discussed in this book – the “Mandalay Regalia” from the UK to Burma in 1964 (see Clarke, chapter 5) and the 13th-century Prajnaparamita statue from the Netherlands to Indonesia in 1978 (see Beurden and Sapardan, chapters 8 and 9). In the 1970s and 1980s, the government of Thailand succeeded in repatriating at least three objects from Western institutions and private collectors. A stone lintel, stolen from Prang Ku Suan Taeng sanctuary in 1964, was returned in 1970 by Avery Brundage, while the 12th-century reclining Vishnu lintel from Prasat Phanom Rung sanctuary which disappeared from the site in 1960 or 1961 – known as the “Narai Lintel” – was given

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Introduction

back by the Art Institute of Chicago in 1988.114 A gold votive plaque stolen from James H.W. Thompson House in 1980 reappeared in an antique shop in Europe in 1988 and, after brief negotiations, the dealer agreed to send the piece back to Thailand the following year.115 The Luang Poh Sila Buddha, stolen from Thung Sangiam temple in Sukhothai province in 1977, was returned to Thailand in 1996.116 The case of Ban Chiang is discussed in detail by Rod-ari (chapter 4) and the repatriation request for the Prakhon Chai Hoard is analysed by Phanomvan (chapter 10). Much material has been returned to Cambodia. One of the earliest Cambodian repatriation cases was a 12th-century Khmer piece returned by France in 1993, after it was stolen from the Angkor Conservation Office.117 The Metropolitan Museum of Art and Sotheby’s New York sent back a number of Cambodian objects in 1997.118 In April 2000, an American antique collector returned two items of cultural property stolen from the Angkor ruins to the Cambodian government.119 According to Lafont, over one hundred Khmer artefacts had been repatriated to Cambodia by 2001, representing the “biggest example of the restitution of objects of art in the world”.120 Many had been taken from the Angkor Conservation Office in Siem Reap, and were identified mainly due to the publication, One hundred missing objects: Looting in Angkor.121 The

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Fig. 1.4 Vishnu Lintel in Prasat Phanom Rung, Thailand. Photograph by Phacharaphorn Phanomvan.

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most well-known recent examples are the so-called “blood antiquities” from Koh Ker, returned to Cambodia by American institutions (see Chea, Muong and Tythacott, chapter 3). As Hauser-Schäublin argues, such successful restitutions have often been the result of specific agreements (i.e. US and Cambodia bi-lateral agreements), as well as UNESCO, Interpol and the expertise of scholars.122 Indonesia saw a group of objects returned by the Netherlands in the late 1970s. The repatriation was facilitated through an agreement signed by both countries in 1975 – and the processes involved are discussed in detail by Beurden in chapter 8. Preceding this, the most famous manuscript from Java, the Nagarakertagama, was gifted by Queen Juliana of the Netherlands (1909–2004) during her state visit to Indonesia in 1973.123 The manuscript entered Dutch collections through the military subjugation of Cakranegara Palace of Lombok in 1894, when it also saw a hoard of royal regalia, now known as the Lombok treasure, being collected by the Batavian Society. The regalia were also part of the objects returned to Indonesia following the 1975 agreement, discussed, too, by Beurden in this volume. The most significant repatriation was the Singasari Prajnaparamita statue, much revered today, as it is considered by many Indonesians as the most beautiful icon to have been produced by their ancestors. The collecting, repatriation, and current appropriation of this particular image is examined in depth by Sapardan in chapter 9. Alongside the restitution of cultural material has been the growth and development of the museological landscape, with national museums, generally, being used, in conjunction with other avenues, to develop official histories of Southeast Asian states over past decades. As such, the inclusion of repatriated cultural objects into national heritage formation has tended to function as a means of strengthening the “glory of the past”. Objects, particularly those from archaeological sites and museum collections, are depositories of memories as well as reference points to project personal, local, collective and national identities. Peleggi has demonstrated how the establishment of the Bangkok National Museum was designed to document and celebrate Thailand’s magnificent art and archaeological artefacts through which an art historical lineage was drawn, a lineage which was meant to articulate a deeper sense of identity as well as the single cultural continuity of Thai peoples and cultures over time.124 The case of Phanom Rung is apposite, for the campaign to return the lintel was less about the theft and more about its inclusion into the formation of a Thai national lineage.125 Meanwhile McGregor has pointed out that the ethnology collection of the National Museum of Indonesia, assembled, as we have seen, during the Dutch colonial era by the Batavian Society, was restaged to present a notion of the diverse

Introduction

cultural heritage of the Indonesian nation, a diversity embraced as a cornerstone of national unity.126 Hence, from these two examples we can see that museum collections are created and presented to form a collective experience of how a nation should be. It is worth noting that ancient monumental archaeological sites and their artefacts have frequently been afforded higher status compared to other material culture elements in nation building projects. Since these materials are mostly Hindu-Buddhist, they have provided leverage for Buddhist nations in the mainland, yet this does not hinder nationalist appropriations even for the largest Muslim majority nation in insular Southeast Asia. In looking at this phenomenon, it is useful to revisit Anderson’s idea of an “archaeological push” in Southeast Asia. He argued that at the beginning of the 20th century, there was a tendency towards prioritising archaeological sites and artefacts, such as those of Borobudur, Pagan (Bagan) and Angkor.127 While many have pointed out the need to contextualise and provide more nuance to this argument, for the sake of this discussion, it is pertinent to note that this “push” has resulted in the idea of “guardianship”. Repurposed as “regalia for a secular colonial state”, the preservation of monumental archaeology was in the hands of the colonial authorities, which created a clear hierarchy between the colonisers and the colonised subjects.128 When postcolonial Southeast Asia was faced with new questions of national identity, the supposed discovery of “forgotten civilisations” provided a source of pride to the former colonies,129 while at the same time the concept of guardianship was subverted to project the notion of self-grandeur and capability as a nation. The drive for object repatriation, which can be regarded as another form of collecting practice, might stem from the structure through which a nation and its peoples are made to experience the material embodiment of the often notably majestic past. As such, the visual manifestation, in the form of archaeological sites and artefacts, serves as “a shared repertoire of image and objects that shape memory and identity”.130 Furthermore, individuals are encouraged to seek closer physical engagement with visual and material representations, such as architecture, monuments and the landscape, in order to experience and stimulate personal connections that respectively generate “national sentiments” and “emotional attachment” to the (national) collective memory.131 Thus, in this context, the historiography and genealogy of a nation play an important role in decisions to repatriate or not. This close entanglement between materiality, national selfhood, regional identity, cultural heritage, object patrimony and restitution is examined in more depth by Ardiyansyah in chapter 7, Sapardan in chapter 9 and Phanomvan in chapter 10.

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BOOK STRUCTURE Many of the chapters in this book bring to light information never before published regarding the processes, practices and politics of acquiring and returning Southeast Asian art. Overall, the book is organised into three sections. In Part I: Artefact Ownership, Gabrielle Abbe’s chapter focuses on the selling of Khmer antiquities during the French colonial period. With the establishment of the École française d’Extrême-Orient (EFEO) in 1900, the Gouvernement général de l’Indochine issued a decree to protect the “Monuments historiques” in French Indochina, placing Khmer heritage at the heart of its cultural policy. Abbe notes how the selling of Khmer artefacts was officially authorised in 1923 by the EFEO and Directeur des arts, George Groslier, with the profits from these sales supposedly contributing to the maintenance of temples. The chapter documents the processes involved in selecting artefacts, and the subsequent sales in the 1920s and 1930s. Initially, Abbe observes, only “fragments” and “debris” were identified, but, in the end, pieces of exceptional importance were disposed of, such as the Hevajra acquired by the Metropolitan Museum, New York, in 1936. Abbe concludes by considering whether it is possible to reconstruct these sales in order to understand what was sold – to whom and when – as many pieces are now in private collections or have disappeared. In chapter 3, Chea Socheat, Muong Chanraksmey, and Louise Tythacott discuss the origins, looting and repatriation of the sculptures of Koh Ker in Cambodia. Dating to the tenth century, the imposing statues are unique in terms of their three-dimensional iconographic programme. The special characteristics of these sculptures attracted French scholars to collect and study them from the second half of the 19th century. Nonetheless, it was between the 1960s and 1990s that looting intensified due to a combination of modern road developments connecting the site with other areas and the unstable political situation in Cambodia. Testimonies from local villagers, who either witnessed or were involved in the looting, portray localised contexts for the transnational black market in antiquities. It was through concerted and publicised efforts from the government of Cambodia, Khmer and international scholars and US museums that seven sculptures were returned to Cambodia between 2013 and 2016, even though today many other pieces from Koh Ker remain in private collections around the world. Melody Rod-ari’s chapter focuses on the discovery, looting and return of ceramic vessels, small metal tools and jewellery from the archaeological site of Ban Chiang in north-eastern Thailand. “Discovered” in 1966, the dating of the material to 2,000–1,000 bce, renders it exceptionally important. Rod-ari documents the removal of objects to American

Introduction

museums as a result of the US presence in Thailand during the Vietnam War. The chapter discusses the official raids on five Californian institutions in 2008, including the Bowers Museum of Art. Due to the Thai “Act on Ancient Monuments, Antiques, Objects of Art and National Museums” (1961), and American legislation, investigators believed that most Ban Chiang artefacts in the US are stolen property. By 2014, the Bowers Museum had returned 554 objects to Thailand “in exchange for a non-prosecution agreement”. The remaining Ban Chiang material today is in a state of legal limbo as investigations continue. Ban Chiang artefacts previously on public display, are now in storage, and Rod-ari laments the loss of this material from view, arguing that it only sets back wider understandings Southeast Asia’s prehistoric past. Considering that pottery is a mass-produced item usually with a trademark design, she points out that in the future it would be worth considering if ancient pieces, such as those of Ban Chiang, could be legally traded using similar arrangements (but with better supervision) to the antiquities system implemented by the French in Cambodia (discussed by Abbe in chapter 2). In Part II: Object Biographies and Colonial Legacies, John Clarke’s chapter begins by documenting the history of the looting, display and return of the “Mandalay regalia” at the Victoria & Albert Museum (V&A). Referring to this as a “palladium”, he notes how it embodies “the power and dignity of the Konbaung dynasty (1752–1885)”. The collection consisted of over 167 pieces – including highly crafted vessels of gold encrusted with precious stones, dating mostly from the 18th to the early 19th century. The regalia were looted from the palace in Mandalay in 1885 by the British during the Third Anglo-Burmese War. Drawing on archival research, Clarke outlines the processes and politics involved in the display of the regalia at the South Kensington Museum, later the V&A, when the museum was entrusted with its custodianship. The return in 1964 was unprecedented in the history of the institution, and seemingly stimulated by Harold Wilson’s Labour Government. Today, the collection is displayed at the National Museum in Yangon, where it operates as a symbol of national identity. In the following chapter, Nguyễn H.H. Duyên addresses issues faced by curators in presenting and displaying a particular narrative regarding Đồng Dương in the Museum of Cham Sculpture in Vietnam. Many of the statues had been looted and removed to the West by the beginning of the 20th century, and the incompleteness of the displays today is apparent throughout the galleries. Nguyễn notes too how the project, Fonds de Solidarité Prioritaire - Revalorisation du Patrimoine Muséographique Vietnamien (FSP), sponsored by the French government, to refurbish the Đồng Dương Buddhist Art Gallery at the museum, has been hampered by

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curatorial decisions such as the de-sacralisation and de-contextualisation of objects through the aestheticised display and minimal interpretation offered to visitors. Important questions are raised: “Who has the right to write about and display Cham art?” and “Should Cham objects in the holdings of overseas museums be returned to Vietnam?”. The chapter also discusses the repatriation of Đồng Dương statues as a way to complete the gallery at the Museum of Cham Sculpture. Panggah Ardiyansyah’s chapter analyses relationships between Indonesia’s self-determination, artistic objects and calls for repatriation by looking at the particular movements of the paintings of Raden Saleh, presently hailed as the first modern painter from Indonesia. One painting depicting Prince Diponegoro – the most revered national hero – was added late, upon request by the government of Indonesia, to the list of objects given back by the Netherlands in the late 1970s. Meanwhile, the chapter also notes that there has never been a call for the repatriation of another of Saleh’s paintings – depicting Herman Willem Daendels, the most abusive Governor-General of the Dutch East Indies, according to the official modern history of Indonesia. Here Ardiyansyah points out the importance of national historiography in considering requests for object repatriation, while at the same time questioning the linkage between national heritage and restitution. He also argues that the formation of cultural heritage in Indonesia, in part, has been effectively forged by and modified through its colonial legacies. Jos van Beurden’s chapter compares the return of objects by the Netherlands to Indonesia in the 1970s with more recent transfers in the 2010s, based on detailed archival research as well as an analysis of wider socio-political shifts. While the earlier returns included objects of great cultural and historical importance that were claimed by Indonesia – such as the ancient Prajnaparamita statue, war booty that Dutch soldiers had captured in 1894 on the island of Lombok, and objects that had belonged to Indonesia’s national hero, Prince Diponegoro – the repatriations in the 2010s were offered to Indonesia on the occasion of a museum in Delft closing down in 2013. Interestingly, with the recent returns, it was the cultural authorities in Jakarta that decided whether or not to accept the material – and not everything was selected. Beurden’s chapter thus demonstrates that Indonesia today is more confident and assertive in its approach to restitution, and how the Dutch pro-active stance to provenance research on colonial era objects and returns is indicative of a trend set to continue. In Part III: Museums, Restitution, and Cultural Identities, Wieske Sapardan’s chapter explores the return of objects from the Netherlands to Indonesia using the Prajnaparamita statue – the best-known icon of

Introduction

Indonesian art – as the main case study. The text focusses on notions of national identity formation in Indonesia, and how the restitution of cultural property contributes to promoting cultural diplomacy and international cooperation. Sapardan compares the value and meaning of the Prajnaparamita statue in both colonial and postcolonial contexts, analysing the processes of collecting in the early 19th century in relation to European colonialism and wider ideas of racial hierarchies, and she traces the history of its display in the Netherlands in the 19th and 20th century. The chapter moves on to discuss the exhibitions and cooperative projects between Indonesia and the Netherlands which have showcased this important piece. In the following chapter, Phacharaphorn Phanomvan looks closely at contemporary repatriation requests for objects looted from Plai Bat in Thailand presently displayed in museums in the West. She traces recent developments in the repatriation issue where local activism and social media have shifted the balance for more democratising processes of restitution forwarded by the state government. The establishment of “Sam-nuk Sam-Roi Ong” (SSO) in Thailand by a group of local historians has generated a grassroots movement for advancing local and communal cultural identity in relation to the objects requested for return. And since heritage is considered an embodiment of a glorious past, local heritage ownership is an important aspiration for localised political, social, and economic developments, particularly those located in the peripheral regions such as north-eastern Thailand. Social media thus provides a powerful platform for local communities to bolster the quest for repatriating and owning artefacts. In the final chapter, Charlotte Galloway addresses the complexity of restitution in relation to the cultural and political history of Myanmar. She documents shifts in the museological landscape over the past century or so, as the country emerged from colonial rule and military dictatorship. In particular, the chapter outlines some of the key repatriations after independence in 1948 – especially the high-profile return of the stolen Bagan period statue in 2013, as well as a group of small objects repatriated from a New Zealand family and a 200-year-old Buddha image sent from Norway in 2017. However, Galloway makes it clear that restitution is not a high priority, with the government responding reactively, rather than proactively, to requests. The chapter raises interesting questions about the ownership of cultural material and the role of objects and restitution in this Buddhist culture; and ends by considering whether the return of physical objects is the most suitable means of compensation, when a financial donation to a pagoda may be more beneficial.

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The essays in this volume critically examine the issue of object restitution in relation to the particular circumstances of countries in Southeast Asia, thus highlighting the diversity of values, benefits and challenges which cultures in the region face. Chapters shed light on subjects such as provenance history, object ownership, and identity politics – issues, it is believed, which will have a positive impact for Southeast Asian countries and museums across the world in dealing with changing perceptions and practices of restitution in the future.

Notes 1

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3

4

Atwood, Roger, Stealing History: Tomb Raiders, Smugglers, and the Looting of the Ancient World (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2004); Neil Brodie, Jenny Doole and Peter Watson, Stealing history: the illicit trade in cultural material (Cambridge: McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research, 2000); Karl Meyer, The Plundered Past: The story of the illegal international traffic in works of art (New York: Atheneum Books, 1973); Margaret Miles, Art as Plunder: The Ancient Origins of Debate About Cultural Property (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010); Tiffany Jenkins, Keeping their Marbles: How the treasures of the past ended up in museums … and why they should stay there (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016); Moira Simpson, Museums and repatriation: an account of contested items in museum collections (London: Museums Association, 1997); Louise Tythacott and Kostas Arvanitis, eds., Museums and Restitution: New Practices, New Approaches (New York and London: Routledge, 2014); Jeanette Greenfield, The return of cultural treasures (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989); Colin Renfrew, Loot, legitimacy and ownership: the ethical crisis in archaeology (London: Bloomsbury, 2000); John Merryman, ed., Imperialism, art and restitution (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006); James Cuno, Who owns antiquity? Museums and the battle over our ancient heritage (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2008). Zuozhen Liu, The Case for Repatriating China’s Cultural Objects (Singapore: Springer, 2016); Peter Schmidt and Roderick McIntosh, eds., Plundering Africa’s Past (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1996); Paul Turnbull and Michael Pickering, eds., The long way home: the meaning and values of repatriation (Oxford and New York: Berghahn, 2010); Jos van Beurden, The Return of Cultural and Historical Treasures: The Case of the Netherlands (Amsterdam: KIT Publishers, 2012) and Treasures in Trusted Hands: Negotiating the future of colonial cultural objects (Leiden: Sidestone Press, 2017); Masha Lafont, Pillaging Cambodia: The Illicit Traffic in Khmer Art (Jefferson: McFarland, 2004). Masayuki Nagashima, The Lost Heritage: The reality of Artefact Smuggling, in Southeast Asia (Bangkok: Post Books, 2002); Sathal Khun, Socheat Chea, and Samnang Huot, Missing Objects from the Wat Po Veal and Battambang Provincial Museums (Phnom Penh: The National Museum of Cambodia and UNESCO, 2015); Lafont, Pillaging Cambodia. Hauser-Schäublin and Prott’s edited volume, Cultural Property and Contested Ownership, includes chapters on Cambodia, Thailand and Indonesia.

Introduction

5 6

7 8

9 10

11

12

13 14 15

16 17 18

The emphasis of the volume is on the return of actual objects to Southeast Asia, and so chapters do not therefore address, in any detail, the issue of digital or virtual restitution. See Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin and Lyndel Prott, eds., Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution (London and New York: Routledge, 2016); Lafont, Pillaging Cambodia; Beurden, The Return of Cultural and Historical Treasures: The Case of the Netherlands; Pieter ter Keurs, ed., Colonial Collections Revisited (Leiden: CNWS Publications, 2007); Reimar Schefold and Han F. Vermeulen, eds., Treasure Hunting? Collectors and Collections of Indonesian Artefacts (Leiden: CNWS, 2002). Tythacott and Arvanitis, Museums and Restitution, 8. Neil Curtis, “‘A Welcome and Important Part of their Role’: The Impact of Repatriation on Museums in Scotland,” in Museums and Restitution: New Practices, New Approaches, ed. Louise Tythacott and Kostas Arvanitis (Farnham: Ashgate, 2014), 85. Claire Wintle, Colonial Collecting and Display: Encounters with Material Culture from the Andaman and Nicobar Islands (New York and Oxford: Berghahn, 2013), 2. The term was often used during the late 19th and early 20th centuries by European colonising powers to refer themselves in relation to the colony. For example, see Marieke Bloembergen, Colonial Spectacles: The Netherlands and the Dutch East Indies in the World Exhibitions, 1880–1931 (Singapore: Singapore University Press, 2006). Tim Barringer and Tom Flynn, Colonialism and the object: empire, material culture and museum (London and New York: Routledge, 1997); Nicholas Thomas, Entangled Objects: Exchange, Material Culture and Colonialism in the Pacific (Cambridge, Massachusetts and London: Harvard University Press, 1991). See, for example, Barringer and Flynn, Colonialism and the object; Claire Wintle, Colonial Collecting and Display; Chris Gosden and Chantal Knowles, Collecting Colonialism: Material Culture and Colonial Change (Oxford, New York: Berg, 2001); Sarah Longair and John McAleer, eds., Curating Empire: Museums and the British Imperial Experience (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012). See also Beurden’s chapter in this volume. This in relation to the Pacific. Gosden and Knowles, Collecting Colonialism, 51. See Margaret J. Wiener, “Object lessons: Dutch Colonialism and the looting of Bali,” History and Anthropology 6, no. 4 (1994): 347–70. Xavier Salmon, Le Siam à Fontainebleau, L’Ambassade du 27 Juin 1861 (Château de Fontainebleau, 2011) on the gifts to France in 1861. The gold bowl presented by King Mindon is on display in the World Cultures Gallery in the World Museum Liverpool. See Lisa McQuail, Treasures of Two Nations: Thai Royal Gifts to the United States of America (Washington DC: Asian Cultural History Program, Smithsonian Institution, 1997). Pieter ter Keurs, “Collecting in the Colony: Hybridity, power and prestige in the Netherlands East Indies,” Indonesia and the Malay World 37, no. 108 (2009): 150–1. Alexandra Green, “From India to Independence: The formation of the Burma collection at the British Museum,” Journal of the History of Collections 28, no. 3 (2016): 450.

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Nicky Levell, Oriental Visions: Exhibitions, Travel, and Collecting in the Victorian Age (London: Horniman Museum and Gardens, 2000), 206. 20 Ibid. 21 Ibid., 207–8. 22 Ibid., 211. 23 Ibid., 213. 24 Louise Tythacott, “Colonel Green’s Burma: Peoples and Textiles of the 1920s,” The Royal Pavilion Review, no. 1 (1993): 3–7. 25 Elizabeth Dell and Sandra Dudley, Textiles from Burma: Featuring the James Henry Green Collection (London: Philip Wilson Publishers, 2003), 18 and 21. 26 Tythacott, “Colonel Green’s Burma,” 6; Elizabeth Dell, ed., Burma: Frontier Photographs 1918–1935: The James Henry Green Collection (London: Merrell, 2000). See also Dell and Dudley, Textiles from Burma, 179–80, for a list of other Burmese material in the UK and elsewhere. 27 Alper Tasdelen, “Cambodia’s struggle to protect its movable cultural property and Thailand,” in Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution, ed. Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin and Lyndel Prott (London and New York: Routledge, 2016), 45. 28 Keiko Miura, “Destruction and plunder of Cambodian cultural heritage and their consequences,” in Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution, ed. Brigitta HauserSchäublin and Lyndel Prott (London and New York: Routledge, 2016), 24. 29 Ibid.; Lafont, Pillaging Cambodia, 20. 30 Miura, “Destruction and plunder of Cambodian cultural heritage and their consequences,” 24; Lafont, Pillaging Cambodia, 2 and 20–1. 31 Miura, “Destruction and plunder of Cambodian cultural heritage and their consequences,” 24. 32 Nagashima, The Lost Heritage, 52. 33 Kees van Dijk, “Gathering and Describing: Western Interest in Eastern Nature and Culture,” in Treasure Hunting? Collectors and Collections of Indonesian Artefacts, ed. Reimar Schefold and Han F. Vermeulen (Leiden: CNWS, 2012), 23. 34 Ibid. 35 Sharon Macdonald, “Collecting Practices,” in A Companion to Museum Studies, ed. Sharon Macdonald (Australia: Wiley-Blackwell, 2011), 85. 36 Marieke Bloembergen and Martijn Eickhoff, “A Wind of Change on Java’s Ruined Temples: Archaeological Activities, Imperial Circuits and Heritage Awareness in Java and the Netherlands (1800–1850),” BMGN – Low Countries Historical Review 128, no. 1 (2013): 87. 37 Roy Jordaan, “Nicolaus Engelhard and Thomas Stamford Raffles: Brethren in Javanese Antiquities,” Indonesia, no. 101 (April 2016): 49. 38 See Pauline Lunsigh Scheurleer, “Collecting Javanese Antiquities: The appropriation of a newly discovered Hindu-Buddhist civilization,” in Colonial Collections Revisited, ed. Pieter ter Keurs (Leiden: CNWS Publications, 2007), 89–90. 39 Bloembergen and Eickhoff, “A Wind of Change,” 98. 40 Roger Effert, Royal Cabinets and Auxiliary Branches: Origins of the National Museum of Ethnology 1816–1883 (Leiden: CNWS Publications, 2008), 189–90. 41 Scheurleer, “Collecting Javanese Antiquities,” 90. 42 See Edi Sedyawati and Pieter ter Keurs, “Scholarship, curiosity, and politics: Collecting in a colonial context,” in Indonesia: The Discovery of the Past, ed. 19

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43

44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61

62

Endang Sri Hardiati and Pieter ter Keurs (Amsterdam: Kit Publishers, 2006), 20–33. See Denis Byrne, “The nation, the elite and the Southeast Asian antiquities trade: With special reference to Thailand,” Conservation and Management of Archaeological Sites 3, 1999: 145–53 and Maurizio Peleggi, “Orientalism and the Production of Archaeological Knowledge in Modern Siam,” in Asia in Europe, Europe in Asia, ed. Srilata Ravi, Mario Rutten, and Beng-Lan Goh (Singapore and Europe: ISEAS Publications and International Institute for Asian Studies, 2004), 133–61. Peleggi, “Orientalism and the Production,” 134. Maurizio Peleggi, “From Buddhist Icons to National Antiquities: Cultural Nationalism and Colonial Knowledge in the making of Thailand’s History of Art,” Modern Asian Studies 47, no. 5 (2013): 1526. Peleggi, “Orientalism and the Production,” 138. See Prince Damrong Rajanubhab, “Wat Bechamabopit and Its Collection of Images of the Buddha,” Journal of the Siam Society 22 (1928): 20–1. Byrne, “The nation, the elite,” 148–51. Byrne, “The problem with looting,” 346–7; Denis Byrne, Counterheritage: Critical Perspectives on Heritage Conservation in Asia (New York and London: Routledge, 2014), 174. Byrne, “The problem with looting,” 347. The Nation, “Thai collector returns prehistoric artefacts to the government,” The Nation Thailand, 22 Feb. 2019, https://www.nationthailand.com/ art/30364564 (accessed 10 July 2019). Peleggi, “From Buddhist Icons,” 1544–5; Denis Byrne, “The problem with looting: An alternative perspective on antiquities trafficking in Southeast Asia,” Journal of Field Archaeology 41, no. 3 (2016): 345. Hiram W. Woodward, Jr., “Alexander Brown Griswold (1901–1991),” Archives of Asian Art 45 (1992): 94. John Miksic, Borobudur: Golden Tales of the Buddhas (London/Singapore: Bamboo Publishing in association with Periplus Edition, 1990), 29. Marieke Bloembergen and Martin Eickhoff, “Exchange and the Protection of Java’s Antiquities: A Transnational Approach to the Problem of Heritage in Colonial Java,” The Journal of Asian Studies 72, no. 4 (2013): 902. Ibid.: 901–3. Museum text panel, Dec. 2018. Bloembergen and Eickhoff, “Exchange and the Protection of Java’s Antiquities,” 900. Oudheidkundige Dienst in Nederlandsch-Indie, Oudheidkundig Verslag 1927: Eerste en Tweede Kwartaal (Weltevreden: Albrecht & Co. and ʻs-Hage: M. Nijhoff, 1928), 127. Bloembergen and Eickhoff, “Exchange and the Protection of Java’s Antiquities,” 908–9. Dougald O’Reilly, “Shifting Trends of Heritage Destruction in Cambodia: from temple to tombs,” Historic Environment 20, no. 2 (2007): 12; Brice Vincent, “Eléments pour une nouvelle étude des bronzes angkoriens du Mahāmuni Phaya de Mandalay (Birmanie),” Bulletin de l’Association d’Echanges et de Formation pour les Etudes Khmères, no. 20 (February 2015). Available at http://aefek.free.fr/pageLibre00010ca2.html. Angela S. Chiu, The Buddha in Lanna: Art, Lineage, Power, and Place in Northern Thailand (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2017), 94.

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Joseph Chinyong Liow, Religion and Nationalism in Southeast Asia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 102; A continuous call to return the cannon to Patani has forced the Thai government to produce a replica in 2013. However, less than two weeks after the replica was installed in front of Krue Sue mosque, it was bombed by the militants probably because they felt insulted. See Veera Prateepchaikul, “Time to return the Phaya Tani cannon,” Bangkok Post, 14 June 2013, https://www.bangkokpost.com/opinion/ opinion/355107/time-to-return-the-phaya-tani-cannon (accessed 20 Nov. 2019). 64 Indonesia and Vietnam gained independence in 1945; Burma in 1948; Cambodia in 1953 and Laos in 1954; the Federation of Malaysia in 1957. 65 Lafont, Pillaging Cambodia, 2. 66 Nagashima, The Lost Heritage, 52. 67 The important publication, Missing Objects from the Wat Po Veal and Battambang Provincial Museums (2015), describes 67 of the key lost artefacts. 68 Lafont, Pillaging Cambodia, 105. 69 Miura, “Destruction and plunder of Cambodian cultural heritage and their consequences,” 26 70 Ibid., 28. 71 Nagashima, The Lost Heritage, 174. 72 Miura, “Destruction and plunder of Cambodian cultural heritage and their consequences,” 35. Lafont characterised this as “The most devastating and daring theft that ever happened in Cambodia.” See also Lafont, Pillaging Cambodia, 53. 73 Miura, “Destruction and plunder of Cambodian cultural heritage and their consequences,” 35; Lafont, Pillaging Cambodia, 55. 74 Miura, “Destruction and plunder of Cambodian cultural heritage and their consequences,” 36. 75 Lafont, Pillaging Cambodia, 2 and 47. 76 Ibid., 67. 77 Tasdelen, “Cambodia’s struggle to protect its movable cultural property and Thailand,” 48. 78 Lafont, Pillaging Cambodia, 57. 79 Ibid. 80 Ibid., 2. 81 Tasdelen, “Cambodia’s struggle to protect its movable cultural property and Thailand,” 46. 82 Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned: the twisted tracks of Cambodian antiquities,” in Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution, ed. Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin and Lyndel Prott (London and New York: Routledge, 2016), 78. 83 The lacklustre implementation of national laws has occurred elsewhere in Southeast Asia due to small budgets, widespread corruption, lack of policing and inter-institutional coordination, and absence of political will. See Wilhelm G. Solheim, “The ʻAntiquities’ Problem,” Asian Perspectives 16, no. 2 (1973): 118–9 and Byrne, “The problem with looting,” 246. 84 Ibid., 344–54. 85 Ian C. Glover, “Collectors and Archaeologists with Special Reference to Southeast Asia,” Gold in early Southeast Asia, Monograph 64 (2015): 240–1. 63

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86

Ian C. Glover, “Archaeological Survey in West-Central Thailand: A Second Report on the 1982–1983 Field Season,” Asian Perspectives 25, no. 1 (1982–83): 107. 87 See Peter Grave, “Beyond the mandala: Buddhist landscapes and uplandlowland interaction in north-west Thailand AD 1200–1650,” World Archaeology 27, no. 2 (1995): 243–65. 88 Miriam T. Stark and P. Bion Griffith, “Archaeological Research and Cultural Heritage Management in Cambodia’s Mekong Delta: The Search for the ʻCradle of Khmer Civilization’,” in Marketing Heritage: Archaeology and Consumption of the Past, ed. Yorke Rowan and Uzi Baram (Walnut Creek, London, New York, Toronto and Oxford: Altamira Press, 2004), 134. 89 O’Reilly, “Shifting Trends of Heritage Destruction in Cambodia,” 12–6. 90 Byrne, “The problem with looting,” 350–1; Phacharaphorn Phanomvan, “Cost of Trinkets: A Growing Archaeological Looting Network Between Thailand and Myanmar,” Tea Circle: A Forum for New Perspectives on Burma/Myanmar, 10 July 2017, https://teacircleoxford.com/2017/07/10/cost-of-trinkets-a-growingarchaeological-looting-network-between-thailand-and-myanmar/ (accessed 17 Nov. 2019). 91 Phanomvan, “Cost of Trinkets.” 92 Ibid.; O’Reilly, “Shifting Trends of Heritage Destruction in Cambodia,” 14. 93 Byrne, “The problem with looting,” 351. 94 Ali Akbar, “Cultural Resource Management for A Majapahit Kingdom Site in Trowulan, East Java, Indonesia,” Conservation and Management of Archaeological Site 16, no. 4 (2014): 303. 95 Steven Gallagher, “ʻPurchased in Hong Kong’ : Is Hong Kong the Best Place to Buy Stolen or Looted Antiquities?”, International Journal of Cultural Property 24 (2017): 481–2. 96 Christine Adler, Duncan Chappel, and Kenneth Polk, “Perspectives on the organisation and control of the illicit traffic in antiquities in South East Asia,” paper presented at the Organised Crime in Art and Antiquities, Courmayeur Mont Blanc, Italy, 12–14 Dec. 2009, 121. 97 Thanik Lertcharnrit, “Archaeological Resource Management in Thailand,” in Cultural Heritage Management: A Global Perspective, ed. Phyllis Mauch Messenger and George S. Smith (Gainesville: The University Press of Florida, 2010), 182. 98 Adler, Chappel and Polk, “Perspectives on the organisation,” 123; Gallagher, “Purchased in Hong Kong,” 488. 99 Stark and Griffith, “Archaeological Research and Cultural Heritage Management in Cambodia’s Mekong Delta,” 134; Byrne, “The nation, the elite and the Southeast Asian antiquities trade,” 145–53; Byrne, “The problem with looting,” 344–54. 100 Damian Huffer et al., “From the Ground, Up: The Looting of Vườn Chuối within Vietnamese and Southeast Asian Antiquities Trade,” Public Archaeology 14, no. 4 (2015): 232. 101 Phanomvan, “Cost of Trinkets.” 102 Ibid. 103 Tasdelen, “Cambodia’s struggle to protect its movable cultural property and Thailand,” 46. 104 Ibid., 47. 105 Brigita Hauser-Schäublin and Lyndel Prott, “Introduction: Changing concepts of ownership, culture and property,” in Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution, ed. Brigitta HauserSchäublin and Lyndel Prott (London and New York: Routledge, 2016), 4.

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106 http://www.unesco.org/new/en/culture/themes/illicit-trafficking-ofcultural-property/1970-convention/states-parties/. 107 Tasdelen, “Cambodia’s struggle to protect its movable cultural property and Thailand,” 51. 108 Ibid., 48–9. 109 Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 69. 110 Kong Vireak, “Foreword,” in Missing Objects from the Wat Po Veal and Battambang Provincial Museums, ed. Sathal Khun, Socheat Chea, and Samnang Huot (Phnom Penh: The National Museum of Cambodia and UNESCO, 2015), 11. 111 Tular Sudarmadi, “Between colonial legacies and grassroots movement: exploring cultural heritage practice in the Ngadha and Manggarai Regions of Flores” (Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, 2014). Unpublished PhD dissertation, 61. 112 See Aljazeera, “Indonesia’s art deception: Disappearance of Javan statues cast unwelcome light on international art market,” Aljazeera, 28 Mar. 2008, available at https://www.aljazeera.com/programmes/ general/2008/03/200852518392448218.html (accessed 4 Aug. 2018). 113 Hari Budiarti, “Taking and Returning Objects in a Colonial Context: Tracing the collections acquired during the Bone-Gowa military expeditions,” in Colonial Collections Revisited, ed. Pieter ter Keurs (Leiden: CNWS Publications, 2007), 133–40. 114 M.C. Subhadradis Diskul, “Stolen Art Objects Returned to Thailand,” SPAFA Digest 10, no. 2 (1989): 8–11. 115 Ibid., 12. 116 Nagashima, The Lost Heritage, 419. 117 Ibid. 118 Ibid., 170. 119 Ibid., 169. 120 Lafont, Pillaging Cambodia, 167. See also pp. 167–72 for an appendix on the material returned. 121 Ibid., 167. 122 Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 64. 123 Beurden, Treasures in Trusted Hands, 138. 124 Maurizio Peleggi, “The Plot of Thai Art History: Buddhist Sculpture and the Myth of National Origins,” in A Sarong for Clio: Essays on the Intellectual and Cultural History of Thailand, ed. Maurizio Peleggi (Ithaca, New York: Cornell University, 2015), 79–93. 125 See Charler F. Keyes, “The Case of the Purloined Lintel: The Politics of A Khmer Shrine as a Thai National Treasure,” in National Identity and Its Defenders: Thailand, 1939–1989, ed. Craig J. Reynolds (Victoria: Centre of Southeast Asian Studies, Monash University, 1991), 282. 126 Katherine E. McGregor, “Museums and the Transformation from Colonial to Post-Colonial institutions in Indonesia,” in Performing Objects: Museums, material culture and performance in Southeast Asia, ed. Fiona Kerlogue (London: The Horniman Museum, 2004), 15–29. 127 Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, revised ed. (London: Verso, 2016), 161–85. 128 Anderson, Imagined Communities, 181–2.

Introduction

129 Margarita Díaz-Andreu, A World History of Nineteenth-Century Archaeology: Nationalism, Colonialism and the Past (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 241. 130 Geneviève Zubrzycki, “Matter and Meaning: A Cultural Sociology of Nationalism,” in National Matters: Materiality, Culture, and Nationalism, ed. Geneviève Zubrzycki (Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 2017), 3. 131 Ibid., 5.

References Adler, Christine, Duncan Chappel, and Kenneth Polk. “Perspectives on the organisation and control of the illicit traffic in antiquities in South East Asia.” Paper presented at the Organised Crime in Art and Antiquities, Courmayeur Mont Blanc, Italy, 12–14 Dec. 2009, 119–43. Akbar, Ali. “Cultural Resource Management for A Majapahit Kingdom Site in Trowulan, East Java, Indonesia.” Conservation and Management of Archaeological Site 16, no. 4 (2014): 297–307. Aljazeera, “Indonesia’s art deception: Dissapearance of Javan statues cast unwelcome light on international art market,” Aljazeera, 28 Mar. 2008, available at https:// www.aljazeera.com/programmes/general/2008/03/200852518392448218.html. (accessed 4 Aug. 2018). Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, revised ed. London: Verso, 2016. Atwood, Roger. Stealing History: Tomb Raiders, Smugglers, and the Looting of the Ancient World. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2004. Barringer, Tim and Tom Flynn. Colonialism and the object: empire, material culture and museum. London and New York: Routledge, 1997. Beurden, Jos van. The Return of Cultural and Historical Treasures: The Case of the Netherlands. Amsterdam: KIT Publishers, 2012. ___ . Treasures in Trusted Hands: Negotiating the future of colonial cultural objects. Leiden: Sidestone Press, 2017. Bloembergen, Marieke. Colonial Spectacles: The Netherlands and the Dutch East Indies in the World Exhibitions, 1880–1931. Singapore: Singapore University Press, 2006. Bloembergen, Marieke and Martijn Eickhoff. “A Wind of Change on Java’s Ruined Temples: Archaeological Activities, Imperial Circuits and Heritage Awareness in Java and the Netherlands (1800–1850).” BMGN – Low Countries Historical Review 128, no. 1 (2013): 81–104. ___ . “Exchange and the Protection of Java’s Antiquities: A Transnational Approach to the Problem of Heritage in Colonial Java.” The Journal of Asian Studies 72, no. 4 (2013): 893–916. Brice, Vincent. “Éléments pour une nouvelle étude des bronzes angkoriens du Mahāmuni Phaya de Mandalay (Birmanie).” Bulletin de l’Association d’Echanges et de Formation pour les Etudes Khmères, no. 20 (February 2015). Available at http://aefek.free.fr/pageLibre00010ca2.html. Brodie, Neil, Jenny Doole, and Peter Watson. Stealing history: the illicit trade in cultural material. Cambridge: McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research, 2000.

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Budiarti, Hari. “Taking and Returning Objects in a Colonial Context: Tracing the collections acquired during the Bone-Gowa military expeditions.” In Colonial Collections Revisited, edited by Pieter ter Keurs, 123–44. Leiden: CNWS Publications, 2007. Byrne, Denis. “The nation, the elite and the Southeast Asian antiquities trade: With special reference to Thailand.” Conservation and Management of Archaeological Sites 3 (1999): 145–53. ___ . Counterheritage: Critical Perspectives on Heritage Conservation in Asia. New York and London: Routledge, 2014. ___ . “The problem with looting: An alternative perspective on antiquities trafficking in Southeast Asia.” Journal of Field Archaeology 41, no. 3 (2016): 344–54. Chiu, Angela S. The Buddha in Lanna: Art, Lineage, Power, and Place in Northern Thailand. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2017. Cuno, James. Who owns antiquity? Museums and the battle over our ancient heritage. Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2008. Curtis, Neil. “ʻA Welcome and Important Part of their Role’: The Impact of Repatriation on Museums in Scotland.” In Museums and Restitution: New Practices, New Approaches, edited by Louise Tythacott and Kostas Arvanitis, 85–104. Farnham: Ashgate, 2014. Dell, Elizabeth, ed. Burma: Frontier Photographs 1918–1935: The James Henry Green Collection. London: Merrell, 2000. Dell, Elizabeth and Sandra Dudley. Textiles from Burma: Featuring the James Henry Green Collection. London: Philip Wilson Publishers, 2003. Díaz-Andreu, Margarita. A World History of Nineteenth-Century Archaeology: Nationalism, Colonialism and the Past. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. Dijk, Kees van. “Gathering and Describing: Western Interest in Eastern Nature and Culture.” In Treasure Hunting? Collectors and Collections of Indonesian Artefacts, edited by Reimar Schefold and Han F. Vermeulen, 23–46. Leiden: Research School of Asian, African and Amerindian Studies (CNWS), Universiteit Leiden, 2012. Diskul, M.C. Subhadradis. “Stolen Art Objects Returned to Thailand.” SPAFA Digest 10, no. 2 (1989): 8–12. Effert, Roger. Royal Cabinets and Auxiliary Branches: Origins of the National Museum of Ethnology 1816–1883. Leiden: CNWS Publications, 2008. Gallagher, Steven. “ʻPurchased in Hong Kong’: Is Hong Kong the Best Place to Buy Stolen or Looted Antiquities?” International Journal of Cultural Property 24 (2017): 479–96. Glover, Ian C. “Archaeological Survey in West-Central Thailand: A Second Report on the 1982–1983 Field Season.” Asian Perspectives 25, no. 1 (1982–83): 83–109. ___ . “Collectors and Archaeologists with Special Reference to Southeast Asia.” Gold in early Southeast Asia, Monograph 64 (2015): 237–51. Gosden, Chris and Chantal Knowles. Collecting Colonialism: Material Culture and Colonial Change. Oxford, New York: Berg, 2001. Grave, Peter. “Beyond the mandala: Buddhist landscapes and upland-lowland interaction in north-west Thailand AD 1200–1650.” World Archaeology 27, no. 2 (1995): 243–65. Green, Alexandra. “From India to Independence: The formation of the Burma collection at the British Museum.” Journal of the History of Collections 28, no. 3 (2016): 449–63.

Introduction

Greenfield, Jeanette. The Return of Cultural Treasures. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. Hauser-Schäublin, Brigitta and Lyndel Prott, eds. Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution. London and New York: Routledge, 2016. Hauser-Schäublin, Brigitta and Lyndel Prott. “Introduction: Changing concepts of ownership, culture and property.” In Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution, edited by Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin and Lyndel Prott, 1–20. London and New York: Routledge, 2016. Hauser-Schäublin, Brigitta. “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned: the twisted tracks of Cambodian antiquities.” In Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution, edited by Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin and Lyndel Prott, 64–81. London and New York: Routledge, 2016. Huffer, Damian, Duncan Chappell, Låm Thi Dzung, and Hoàng Long Nguyên. “From the Ground, Up: The Looting of Vúúòn Chuôi within Vietnamese and Southeast Asian Antiquities Trade.” Public Archaeology 14, no. 4 (2015): 224–39. Jenkins, Tiffany. Keeping their Marbles: How the treasures of the past ended up in museums … and why they should stay there. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016. Jordaan, Roy. “Nicolaus Engelhard and Thomas Stamford Raffles: Brethren in Javanese Antiquities.” Indonesia, no. 101 (2016): 39–66. Keurs, Pieter ter, ed. Colonial Collections Revisited. Leiden: CNWS Publications, 2007. Keurs, Pieter ter. “Collecting in the Colony: Hybridity, power and prestige in the Netherlands East Indies.” Indonesia and the Malay World 37, no. 108 (2009): 147–61. Keyes, Charles F. “The Case of the Purloined Lintel: The Politics of A Khmer Shrine as a Thai National Treasure.” In National Identity and Its Defenders: Thailand, 1939–1989, edited by Craig J. Reynolds, 261–92. Victoria: Centre of Southeast Asian Studies, Monash University, 1991. Khun, Sathal, Socheat Chea, and Samnang Huot. Missing Objects from the Wat Po Veal and Battambang Provincial Museums. Phnom Penh: The National Museum of Cambodia and UNESCO, 2015. Kong, Vireak. “Foreword.” In Missing Objects from the Wat Po Veal and Battambang Provincial Museums, edited by Sathal Khun, Socheat Chea, and Samnang Huot, 10–1. Phnom Penh: The National Museum of Cambodia and UNESCO, 2015. Lafont, Masha. Pillaging Cambodia: The Illicit Traffic in Khmer Art. Jefferson: McFarland, 2004. Lertcharnrit, Thanik. “Archaeological Resource Management in Thailand.” In Cultural Heritage Management: A Global Perspective, edited by Phyllis Mauch Messenger and George S. Smith, 176–87. Gainesville: The University Press of Florida, 2010. Levell, Nicky. Oriental Visions: Exhibitions, Travel, and Collecting in the Victorian Age. London: Horniman Museum and Gardens, 2000. Liow, Joseph Chinyong. Religion and Nationalism in Southeast Asia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016. Liu, Zuozhen. The Case for Repatriating China’s Cultural Objects. Singapore: Springer, 2016. Longair, Sarah and John McAleer, eds. Curating Empire: Museums and the British imperial experience. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012.

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Macdonald, Sharon. “Collecting Practices.” In A Companion to Museum Studies, edited by Sharon Macdonald, 81–97. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2011. McGregor, Katherine E. “Museums and the Transformation from Colonial to Post-Colonial institutions in Indonesia.” In Performing Objects: Museums, material culture and performance in Southeast Asia, edited by Fiona Kerlogue, 15–29. London: The Horniman Museum, 2004. McQuail, Lisa. Treasures of Two Nations: Thai Royal Gifts to the United States of America. Washington DC: Asian Cultural History Program, Smithsonian Institution, 1997. Merryman, John, ed. Imperialism, art and restitution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Meyer, Karl. The Plundered Past: The story of the illegal international traffic in works of art. New York: Atheneum Books, 1973. Miksic, John. Borobudur: Golden Tales of the Buddhas. London/Singapore: Bamboo Publishing in association with Periplus Edition, 1990. Miles, Margaret. Art as Plunder: The Ancient Origins of Debate About Cultural Property. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. Miura, Keiko. “Destruction and plunder of Cambodian cultural heritage and their consequences.” In Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution, edited by Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin and Lyndel Prott, 23–44. London and New York: Routledge, 2016. Nagashima, Masayuki. The Lost Heritage: The reality of Artefact Smuggling in Southeast Asia. Bangkok: Post Books, 2002. O’Reilly, Dougald. “Shifting Trends of Heritage Destruction in Cambodia: from temple to tombs.” Historic Environment 20, no. 2 (2007): 12–6. Oudheidkundige Dienst in Nederlandsch-Indie. Oudheidkundig Verslag 1927: Eerste en Tweede Kwartaal. Weltevreden: Albrecht & Co. and ‘s-Hage: M. Nijhoff, 1928. Peleggi, Maurizio. “Orientalism and the Production of Archaeological Knowledge in Modern Siam.” In Asia in Europe, Europe in Asia, edited by Srilata Ravi, Mario Rutten, and Beng-Lan Goh, 133–61. Singapore and Europe: ISEAS Publications and International Institute for Asian Studies, 2004. ___ . “From Buddhist Icons to National Antiquities: Cultural Nationalism and Colonial Knowledge in the making of Thailand’s History of Art.” Modern Asian Studies 47, no. 5 (2013): 1520–48. ___ . “The Plot of Thai Art History: Buddhist Sculpture and the Myth of National Origins.” In A Sarong for Clio: Essays on the Intellectual and Cultural History of Thailand, edited by Maurizio Peleggi, 79–93. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University, 2015. Phanomvan, Phacharaphorn. “Cost of Trinkets: A Growing Archaeological Looting Network Between Thailand and Myanmar.” Tea Circle: A Forum for New Perspectives on Burma/Myanmar, 10 July 2017. https://teacircleoxford. com/2017/07/10/cost-of-trinkets-a-growing-archaeological-looting-networkbetween-thailand-and-myanmar/ (accessed 17 Nov. 2019). Prateepchaikul, Veera. “Time to return the Phaya Tani cannon.” Bangkok Post, 14 June 2013. https://www.bangkokpost.com/opinion/opinion/355107/time-to-returnthe-phaya-tani-cannon (accessed 20 November 2019). Rajanubhab, Prince Damrong. “Wat Bechamabopit and its Collection of Images of the Buddha.” Journal of the Siam Society 22 (1928): 19–28. Renfrew, Colin. Loot, legitimacy and ownership: the ethical crisis in archaeology. Duckworth Debates in Archaeology, 2000.

Introduction

Salmon, Xavier. Le Siam à Fontainebleau, L’Ambassade du 27 Juin 1861. Château de Fontainebleau, 2011. Schefold, Reimar, and Han F. Vermeulen, eds. Treasure Hunting? Collectors and Collections of Indonesian Artefacts. Leiden: CNWS, 2002. Scheurleer, Pauline Lunsigh. “Collecting Javanese Antiquities: The appropriation of a newly discovered Hindu-Buddhist civilization.” In Colonial Collections Revisited, edited by Pieter ter Keurs, 71–114. Leiden: CNWS Publications, 2007. Schmidt, Peter R. and Roderick J. McIntosh. Plundering Africa’s Past. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1996. Sedyawati, Edi and Pieter ter Keurs. “Scholarship, curiosity, and politics: Collecting in a colonial context.” In Indonesia: The Discovery of the Past, edited by Endang Sri Hardiati and Pieter ter Keurs, 20–33. Amsterdam: Kit Publishers, 2006. Simpson, Moira G. Museums and repatriation: an account of contested items in museum collections. London: Museums Association, 1997. Solheim, Wilhelm G. “The ʻAntiquities’ Problem.” Asian Perspectives 16, no. 2 (1973): 113–24. Stark, Miriam T. and P. Bion Griffith. “Archaeological Research and Cultural Heritage Management in Cambodia’s Mekong Delta: The Search for the ʻCradle of Khmer Civilization’.” In Marketing Heritage: Archaeology and Consumption of the Past, edited by Yorke Rowan and Uzi Baram, 117–41. Walnut Creek, London, New York, Toronto and Oxford: Altamira Press, 2004. Sudarmadi, Tular. “Between colonial legacies and grassroots movement: exploring cultural heritage practice in the Ngadha and Manggarai Regions of Flores.” Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, 2014. Unpublished PhD dissertation. Tasdelen, Alper. “Cambodia’s struggle to protect its movable cultural property and Thailand.” In Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution, edited by Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin and Lyndel Prott, 45–63. London and New York: Routledge, 2016. The Nation. “Thai collector returns prehistoric artefacts to the government.” The Nation Thailand, 22 Feb. 2019. https://www.nationthailand.com/art/30364564 (accessed 10 July 2019). Thomas, Nicholas. Entangled Objects: Exchange, Material Culture and Colonialism in the Pacific. Cambridge, Massachusetts and London: Harvard University Press, 1991. Turnbull, Paul and Michael Pickering, eds. The Long Way Home: The Meaning and Values of Repatriation. New York and Oxford: Berghahn, 2010. Tythacott, Louise, and Kostas Arvanitis, eds. Museums and Restitution: New Practices, New Approaches. Farnham: Ashgate, 2014. Tythacott, Louise. “Colonel Green’s Burma: Peoples and Textiles of the 1920s.” The Royal Pavilion Review, no. 1 (1993): 3–7. Wiener, Margaret J. “Object lessons: Dutch Colonialism and the looting of Bali.” History and Anthropology 6, no. 4 (1994): 347–70. Wintle, Claire. Colonial Collecting and Display: Encounters with Material Culture from the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. New York and Oxford: Berghahn, 2013. Woodward, Hiram W., Jr. “Alexander Brown Griswold (1901–1991).” Archives of Asian Art 45 (1992): 94–6. Zubrzycki, Geneviève. “Matter and Meaning: A Cultural Sociology of Nationalism.” In National Matters: Materiality, Culture, and Nationalism, edited by Geneviève Zubrzycki, 1–17. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 2017.

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PART I: ARTEFACT OWNERSHIP

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Chapter 2

THE SELLING OF KHMER ARTEFACTS DURING THE COLONIAL ERA: QUESTIONING THE PERCEPTION OF KHMER HERITAGE THROUGH A STUDY OF TRADED KHMER ART PIECES (1920s–1940s) Gabrielle Abbe

From the beginning of the French Protectorate in Cambodia in 1863, heritage was considered an important issue by the colonial administration. But it was only in 1900 that an institution was created with the aim of studying and preserving “Indochinese” heritage: the École française d’Extrême-Orient (EFEO).1 In 1907, the return from Siam (Thailand) of the western provinces of Battambang, Sisophon and Siem Reap brought the temples of Angkor back into the fold of Cambodia. The country, until then considered as a buffer state between Siam under British influence and Indochina, took on a new importance. The preservation and promotion of the temples of Angkor subsequently became a major concern for French cultural policy in Indochina. However, the colonial administration’s heritage preservation practices were inconsistent and changed over time. The fact that in 1923, heritage protection regulations paradoxically justified the sale of archaeological objects sheds light on the duality of heritage: that which is protected, but also that which is excluded and thus alienated – destroyed, sold or given away. The study of the circumstances of these sales, their history and their evolution, will allow us to better map and understand the development of French colonial perceptions of Khmer heritage at this time.

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PROTECTING INDOCHINESE HERITAGE: A MISSION FOR THE PROTECTORATE From the 19th century, French colonial administrators and travellers had taken an interest in the artistic wealth of Cambodia. Even before the creation of an institution assigned to heritage study and protection, military officers, scientists appointed by academic societies, or colonial administrators had been privately interested in the evidence of the past encountered while travelling across the country. Archaeological sites had not been studied at this time, nor even really brought to light;2 temples were far from being inventoried or protected, and access to the monuments, although sometimes difficult, remained free. Across Indochina, the first initiatives in favour of artistic heritage preservation were private enterprises or those instigated by scientific societies. In the late 1890s Charles Lemire (1839–1912) for instance, Résident de France in Quảng Nam (French colonial administrator in the Quảng Nam province), formed a collection of pieces gathered throughout his excursions. At first stored in a garden in Tourane (Đà Nẵng), these sculptures formed, in the 1910s, the initial core of the Cham museum in Tourane.3 The museum received at the same time another private collection from Camille Paris (1856–1908), a French administrator.4 These two important collections are well known because of their placement in a museum, but it is quite probable that several other administrators collected pieces to furnish their homes and gardens. Besides the ethical questions raised, such collecting practices also introduced problems for scholarship and conservation. Indeed, these collectors rarely enquired about the provenance of the pieces, which now renders them less suitable for study. Furthermore, collections were often stored outdoors, exposed to conditions of poor preservation. With the development of archaeology in colonial Indochina, the French authorities decided to put an end to what were considered regrettable practices, such as disorganised collections of antiquities, the export of archaeological artefacts or the intentional degradation of monuments. Attitudes and habits were changing: the prevailing priority was the preservation of works of art in situ. This was already evident with the creation of the EFEO in 1900. Successor to the Mission archéologique permanente de l’Indochine founded in 1898, the EFEO had, since the beginning, a remit to “work on the archaeological and philological exploration of the Indochinese peninsula, to promote by all means the knowledge of its history, its monuments, its languages” and to “contribute to the scholarly study of neighbouring regions and civilisations: India, China, Malaysia etc”.5 Monument preservation was soon added to this and became more important over time.

The Selling of Khmer Artefacts during the Colonial Era

In 1900, the Gouvernement général de l’Indochine decided to issue legislation relating to the protection of heritage, enforced throughout the colonial territories of French Indochina. The decree of 9 March 1900 organised the protection of the “Monuments historiques” of Indochina,6 listed in the decree of 6 February 1901. The EFEO was fully involved in this action and took part in the inventory. The institution was also entrusted with the creation of a museum,7 in order to gather and present in Indochina the works of art that could otherwise be scattered abroad.8 At this time, the temples of Angkor were still under the control of Siam. Since 1794, Siam had established its authority over the western provinces of Battambang, Siem Reap and Sisophon. It was not until 1907, after negotiations between Siam and the French colonial authorities, that the Kingdom of Cambodia finally regained these provinces. Cambodia suddenly acquired great importance in the eyes of colonial authorities, due to the presence of its archaeological heritage. Preservation and promotion of Indochinese heritage, and Khmer heritage in particular, was subsequently placed at the heart of colonial cultural policy. Khmer heritage was used to evidence French cultural intervention in Indochina. As such, the French had to demonstrate their worth and integrity as the “protectors” of Khmer heritage. This “mission” of preservation was part of the legitimisation discourse of the French colonial authorities in Indochina. It was also an arena of competition with other colonial powers in the region,9 and an economic investment linked to tourism development. In order to carry out such legislation, the colonial government created “antiquities commissions”, first in Tonkin (1901), then in Cambodia (1905). These commissions were in charge of surveying and maintaining the monuments. But many monuments remained unknown, and the first priority was to create an inventory for the project of classification. These measures proved insufficient, as the monuments were too numerous to be properly looked after. Colonial authorities had neither the financial nor the human resources to closely monitor all classified monuments. In small villages, from the 1920s, monks or villagers were put in charge of the monuments’ upkeep. These measures gave rise to criticism from some French administrators who feared that local populations could take advantage of the situation and try to sell pieces of art. They argued that Cambodians were not sufficiently aware of the importance of their heritage and that they needed to be educated and controlled. But, on the contrary, it appears that illegal affairs concerning misappropriation of art pieces more often involved colonial staff and Western tourists. In 1919, new legislation was implemented in Cambodia. The antiquities commission was considered inefficient and was replaced by the Commission des Antiquités historiques et archéologiques du Cambodge. An

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important role was given to George Groslier (1887–1945), newly appointed Directeur des Arts, who became one of the cornerstones of archaeological preservation in the country during the Protectorate. George Groslier was a French painter, the son of a civil servant and the first French citizen born in Cambodia. In 1917, after several government missions, he was put in charge of the creation of a School of Arts, and set up a programme of “renovation of Khmer arts”.10 His doctrine of “renovation” was based on his perception of the decline of Khmer art and the need for a return to “traditional” practices in order to revive artistic production.11 He convinced the colonial authorities to create the Service des Arts, including a School of Arts, a museum and the supervision of guilds of craftsmen. The museum was created in 1917 and named after the Governor-general Albert Sarraut. It replaced the Musée Khmer created by the EFEO in 1905.12 The purpose of this new museum was to display, conserve and study Khmer art, but also to provide “traditional” inspiration to contemporary artists. It was established in the same building as the School of Arts, where artists were trained by professors from the royal workshops, in harmony with what Groslier described as “Khmer tradition”. Once trained, students could decide to enter the Corporations cambodgiennes, a guild of craftsmen who were allowed to sell their work in the museum shop. Though George Groslier was much involved in the protection of Khmer heritage, he also promoted the idea of selling original Khmer artefacts. The EFEO, present in Angkor since 1907 via the Conservation d’Angkor (Angkor Conservation Office), and the Directeur des Arts George Groslier, were the main actors in the trade in Khmer artefacts under the supervision of colonial authorities. A PARADOXICAL PROTECTION Heritage conservation in Cambodia and Indochina was guaranteed by several measures: laws that regulated excavations and archaeological exploration, and commissions which required inventorying and classifying the monuments. But in 1923, the colonial authorities made a paradoxical decision: they decided to authorise the selling of archaeological materials. To understand this decision, we need to consider its development. The idea seemed to come from the colonial authorities in 1919. During the session of the Commission of historical and archaeological Antiquities of Cambodia, 7 November 1919, the Résident supérieur, François Baudoin, proposed to sell “débris for the benefit of the Angkor Group”, in order to “reduce the temptation experienced by some of the visitors”.13 The members of the Commission, representing the royal authorities of Cambodia as well as French colonial authorities, seemed to

The Selling of Khmer Artefacts during the Colonial Era

give their approval. Henri Parmentier (Vice-President of the Commission and at that time Interim Director of the EFEO), George Groslier (Directeur des Arts), Oknha Veang Thiounn (Minister of the Palace), and the French Governor in Battambang, seemed to agree about selling what were then designated as “debris”. The following year, George Groslier, member of the Société des Amis d’Angkor, pursued this idea. In February 1920, during a session of the Société, he proposed to add to the “trade in postcards and art objects”, the selling of “excavated materials, pottery or other debris which are found in large numbers, have no utility and are destined for destruction or smuggling”.14 He specified that this trade would be organised “after the agreement of the EFEO” and could “increase the Society’s income” and partially fund the work in Angkor. As such, this project was not initially mandated by the EFEO, which was the institution in charge of heritage preservation in Indochina. The arguments presented by the Résident supérieur in 1919 and the Société des Amis d’Angkor in 1920 are contradictory. On the one hand, only “debris” was supposed to be sold, at low prices.15 The profits were supposed to contribute to the funding of an expensive programme of temple maintenance. The financial argument being rather weak, it was more often the argument of heritage preservation that was highlighted. Those who advocated selling archaeological pieces argued that it would dissuade tourists from stealing objects in the temples. Despite this argument, the Director of the EFEO, Louis Finot, was at first firmly opposed to the initiative. In 1921, George Groslier, who was gradually perceived to be an ardent advocate of the sales, broached the question in a letter to the Director of the EFEO. He insisted on reminding him of the “project of selling those ancient objects with a considerable number of duplicates”.16 He specified the nature of the objects for the first time: “… pieces of pottery, small statues, miscellaneous fragments which crop up with depressing monotony, adding nothing new to our heritage and lying neglected in every corner. In Egypt and Italy this has been in effect for a long time and is a source of considerable revenue for these governments.”17 Groslier proposed that objects from excavations would be divided into three groups. Two or three of the best samples of object types could be kept for the museum in Phnom Penh. Some of the similar objects abundant in number could be dispatched to the Guimet Museum in Paris and to other museums around the world. Only what he called “left-overs and rejects” could be sold. Groslier was then very clear: the administration should sell only the pieces of lesser quality or interest. The definition of what was or was not an “interesting piece” changed over time, as did codes of practice and ethics. If conservation now took priority, in the late 1910s it was not unusual to see pieces moved or

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re-used for road construction. In 1917 Henri Marchal, Conservateur d’Angkor, relates such an episode. When the administrator of Siem Reap and the Service of Public Works asked him if they could take stones from ditches outside the Bayon, Marchal had the stones selected and the carved ones removed: It is true that the presence of carvings on stones set aside for paving roads creates a bad impression on both visitors and natives, even though these carvings have no value. It is unfortunate, however, that such a decision was not made in relation to the huge heaps of stones piled up in the first inner courtyard, where next to remarkable carvings we find blocks devoid of interest that clutter the place unnecessarily.18

The evolution of practices and the sharpening of ethics are the corollary of the development of a proper science of archaeology and the improvement of excavation and restoration practices. Architects and civil engineers decided to re-use dismantled blocks of temples not only because they had no aesthetic value but because they did not imagine that technical progress could, one day, allow for the restoration of collapsed monuments. Faced with disseminated blocks of stone which they thought could never be put together again, they focussed on clearing the surroundings of the temples, removed the shapeless stones and retained only carved pieces that, in their eyes, were of value. It was only the evolution of techniques and archaeological science that led to a change in the perception of the worth of excavated material. Groslier tried to convince Louis Finot, Director of the EFEO; he highlighted the financial argument. “From my personal experience”, he wrote, “the opinions expressed to me by the visitors that I see passing every day, and the requests that they make, I guarantee that we could dispose of those pieces in any way we wish, and at any price.”19 He then emphasised the preservation of the monuments. “Finally”, he stated, “if a tourist knows that he could obtain ancient objects guaranteed by the Museum, this can only serve to quell his ‘historical’ urge to surreptitiously remove those objects that appear to be there for the taking, incurring no risk from surveillance.”20 The Director of the EFEO was hard to convince. He viewed this decision as “at first sight dangerous”.21 He pointed out that shapeless fragments would not attract buyers. As for interesting pieces, the EFEO would have to “keep them, at least as objects for exchange with foreign museums”.22 But the objects defined by Groslier and the direction of the EFEO as fit for sale were not those that were finally sold. Indeed, they first defined three types of object: coins; small Chinese bowls, porcelain fragments (the oldest being from the 18th century); tiles and funeral urns (Groslier says: “we find stacks of them in

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the Kulen mountains”). What Groslier said about these objects reflects a certain kind of vision at that time: “I am well aware that none of these objects is ‘literally the same’ as its neighbour, but once you’ve observed and held in your hand a dozen of them, each explaining and complementing the other, you begin to wonder about the possible purpose of the other 200.”23 THE SALES AND THEIR EVOLUTION It is not clear which argument finally convinced the EFEO to participate in the sales. But the decree regulating the sale of original artefacts was signed on 14 February 1923. The EFEO was very cautious and took measures and safeguards to avoid abuses, not only to guarantee the preservation of the monuments and work under its purview, but also to shield itself from criticism. The objects were selected by the Directeur des Arts (George Groslier from 1920 to 1944) and the Conservateur d’Angkor (more often Henri Marchal during this period). Together they selected pieces at the Conservation d’Angkor and submitted a first shortlist. The criteria for selection were as follows: objects… “without the scientific or artistic interest which could justify retention in Museums or public storehouses in the colony”.24 These criteria reveal how the choice was a subjective one, left to the discretion of the Directeur des Arts and the Conservateur d’Angkor. After this first selection, the list was submitted to the Commission des Antiquités du Cambodge, who established a shorter list of objects to recommend for sale. The statements of the Commission, which were gathered once or twice a year, assigned each statue an inventory number, a brief designation, sometimes dimensions and weight, provenance, and an estimated price. This list was submitted to the Director of the EFEO, who was free to reject some of the proposals but usually did not. This triple validation was designed to prevent abuse of the system. But the choice remained in the hands of Groslier and Marchal. Indeed, no one in the Commission had sufficient knowledge to contradict them about the aesthetic value of a given piece. Over time, the Commission filled up with EFEO members, people who never contradicted the Conservateur d’Angkor or Groslier. At first, the EFEO Director would make his annual visit to Angkor an opportunity to take a close look at the pieces before approving the sales, but over time, he gave advice based only on photographs.25 The second safeguard concerned the organisation of the sales. The 1923 decree specified that objects could only be sold at the Albert Sarraut Museum in Phnom Penh, under the supervision of the Directeur des Arts

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who was required to report the sales annually to the Résident supérieur and the Director of the EFEO. The 1923 decree offered a framework for the sale of archaeological objects, but was soon to be re-designed. Changing practices and constraints forced the EFEO to announce a new decree in 1931, in particular to allow sales outside the museum. In the 1930s the nature of the objects changed, practices evolved and laws had to adapt. These modifications consequently led to shifts that the EFEO was not able to stop. The main modification concerned the locations for the sales: objects could then be sold not only at the museum but also at the Bungalow of Angkor and hotels in Siem Reap and Saigon. In effect, this change represented the formalisation of an established practice, as Henri Marchal says: In reality things happen this way: while working, I set aside any piece of stone lacking interest and which I judge to be worthless. When the Director of the EFEO or Parmentier26 comes here, I submit this debris to him and once the authorisation to sell is granted I hand the objects over to the Directeur des Arts or his representative when he comes to Angkor: he sets a price, usually from $5 to $30 and the stones are left at the Hôtel d’Angkor. Now, once you have removed ten or so decent looking stones … the rest are nauseating. You will see for yourself the leftovers in the showcase, consisting of objects that are unsold or unsellable because of their lack of form.27

Fig. 2.1 Sculptures shortlisted for sale in February 1937. The photograph accompanies the list of sculptures, their inventory number, designation, provenance and estimated price. © École française d’Extrême-Orient, Fonds Cambodge ref. EFEO_CAM17472.

“Formless”, “lacking interest”, “with no value”, “fragments”, “debris”: the archives are full of terms used to qualify the pieces that were sold. But none of them are precise enough to help us understand the reality of these sales. All we can do is consider the dimensions and brief descriptions of the pieces sometimes provided by the archives. Fortunately, some photographs also give us a glimpse of the sales (see Fig. 2.1). During the first few years, it seems that only fragments were sold: fragments of hands, fragments of heads, fragments of carvings and of Khmer pottery. The estimated price was fixed according to the dimensions of the piece (for pottery) or the price of a contemporary equivalent (for bronze and stone sculptures).28 For example in 1924, a “headless statue of a Buddha, bronze, modern art”, weighing 1.3 kilos was sold for 8 Indochinese piasters; a “fragment of a bas-relief representing a head, stone, classic art”, weighing 500 grams was sold for $6 (Indochinese piasters), but a “head of the Buddha with the fragment of naga head, stone, classic art” (10 centimetres high, 577 grams) was sold for $20. In 1938, a statue representing the Buddha sheltered by the naga (25 centimetres high),

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from Preah Khan at Angkor, was sold for $20. The same year a statue of a “trinity” (38 centimetres high), from Preah Khan at Angkor, was sold for $70 and a “head from Preah Damrei” (32 centimetres) for $100. But without photographs of all the archaeological objects sold, it is difficult to evaluate properly the criteria that helped determine the prices. We can, however, note that most of the pieces sold in the early 1920s were “heads”, “hands”, “fragments of carvings”, with prices ranging from $5 to $20. But at the end of the 1930s, in spite of the measures taken to prevent abuse, the EFEO was facing different forms of pressure from buyers, the colonial administration or diplomatic constraints. The first kind of departure from the strategy concerned the organisation of the sales. The 1923 decree stipulated that objects could be sold only after a selection by the Conservateur d’Angkor and the Directeur des Arts. But it happened that, pressured by an important buyer – civil servants who came recommended by the colonial administration for example – they agreed to list objects which were not supposed to be sold. Some of these buyers even

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came to the Conservation d’Angkor’s warehouse to select pieces. The system of selection and scientific expertise, meant to prevent abuse, was thus in question. It showed that a hierarchy of buyers existed, and that selling pieces of different quality to the average tourist or to an educated connoisseur was tolerated. The buyer’s taste was then prioritised over the decision of the Conservateur d’Angkor and the Directeur des Arts. In 1930 for example, the Conservateur d’Angkor had to face a demanding connoisseur. Dr Voronoff was not satisfied with the sculptures exhibited for sale, nor by the selection proposed by the Conservateur. He said he wanted to make a gift of a beautiful statue to the Governor-general. The sculpture he chose was reserved for the Museum of Saigon, but the Director of the EFEO, George Cœdès, accepted the sale because he was insistent, and because of the quality of the sculpture (see Fig. 2.2). The sale was authorised in April–May 1930.29 These abuses of the system were justified on the grounds that Khmer art needed to be promoted abroad. This last argument was particularly used for transactions with foreign museums. Between December 1930 and April 1932 for example, Herman Karel Westendorp, President of the “Asian Art Society in the Netherlands” negotiated with the EFEO the sale of four sculptures for a museum planned in Amsterdam (the new Museum van Aziatische Kunst opened in 1932). George Cœdès, Director of the EFEO, requested the approval of the Governor-general and said: I have the honour of asking you to sanction once and for all the transfer of these sculptures, whose alienation will not deprive Cambodian archaeological heritage of a unique piece, and will contribute to spreading knowledge about Khmer art in one of the countries of Europe best placed to become interested in it.30

Fig. 2.2 Head n° 303, selected for sale by the buyer, Dr Voronoff, in April 1930. © École française d’ExtrêmeOrient, Fonds Cambodge ref. EFEO_CAM14041.

But the practice of allowing the buyer to pick pieces even before shortlisting turned out to be risky. At the turn of 1930, the taste of connoisseurs was becoming more finely honed and it became more difficult to sell archaeological fragments. Connoisseurs gathered information; they visited museums and sometimes had a good understanding of Khmer art. Therefore, how could the administrators justify selling only fragments when the EFEO had at its disposal beautiful pieces and shipped them to museums around the world? It seems that, while spreading knowledge about Khmer art in France and abroad, French authorities also aroused the greed of amateurs and, unintentionally, this led to these kinds of abuse. As time went by, some distinguished tourists became more insistent on buying important pieces. The 1930s demonstrates a change in practice which encompassed the sale of significant artefacts. Such practices countered the ideas that had prevailed

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2.3

Fig. 2.3 Bust of Hevajra during its excavation, Eastern Gate of Angkor Thom, March 1925. © École française d’ExtrêmeOrient, Fonds Cambodge ref. EFEO_CAM08454. Fig. 2.4 Bust of Hevajra. Acquired by the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York in 1936. © École française d’Extrême-Orient, Fonds Cambodge ref. EFEO_ CAM17457.

2.4

Fig. 2.5 Bust of Hevajra. Acquired by the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York in 1936, purchased through the Fletcher Fund. Ref 36.96.4.

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in 1923. Some members of the EFEO liaised with international museums,31 disguised sales and ended up selling pieces of exceptional value, such as the bust of Hevajra,32 bought in 1936 by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York (see Figs. 2.3, 2.4 and 2.5). Although legal at the time, the sale of archaeological objects provoked criticism, not only in the Indochinese press, but also amongst scholars, including those from the EFEO. In the 1940s dissension was palpable between those who thought that the money from the sales could help the EFEO through difficult times, and those who believed that the sales should not be a means of financing the EFEO.33 At the beginning of the 1940s, Henri Marchal, Conservateur d’Angkor, was amongst those who thought that the sales should no longer be carried out. The sales were considerably reduced until 1945, when the selling of Khmer artefacts officially stopped. THE PERCEPTION OF KHMER ART Thinking about protection and conservation also involves looking at non-protection and non-conservation. In this study of the process by which Khmer art became part of Cambodian heritage, practices of inclusion and exclusion were central. Outlining what was considered as heritage (and for this reason was protected) sheds light on what was not considered as heritage, and thus could be destroyed, sold, given away or re-used. Heritage is created and designed as laws are passed to protect it. Laws thus protect as much as they define heritage. In the late 1910s, George Groslier wished for the creation of a “regenerated art” and set 12thcentury Angkorian art as the model. It was also Angkorian art that was delimited within the Parc d’Angkor, designed in 1907 but administratively created in 1923. Tracing the border of this park also created a boundary between what required most favour (the temples located inside the Park) and what was considered of minor importance, for several reasons (monuments outside the Park). Chronological boundaries also appeared, leading to an over-emphasis on Angkor, from which Khmer archaeology would continue to suffer. The selection of pieces for sale reflects this definition of heritage. In the 1920s, criteria allowing the sales were vague enough to leave the selection to the discretion of the Directeur des Arts and the Conservateur d’Angkor. This piece of the puzzle helps to understand the nature of the objects sold. Indeed the focus for researchers at the time, including members of the EFEO and Groslier, on the Angkorian period, probably led them to sell pieces from more recent times: from the post-Angkorian, middle or early modern periods (c. 14th–19th centuries). These pieces,

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considered less important because they did not reflect what was then considered as “traditional” Khmer art, are now of interest to researchers. The value of a piece can only be considered in light of the perception of the viewer. And this perception has changed many times over the 20th century. Originally statues of worship, the pieces that were excavated by archaeologists became, in their eyes, vestiges from which they built a definition of Khmer heritage: focussing on “classical” 12th-century stone art and often excluding the rest. The archives relating to the sales, and the comments made about the pieces sold, reflect the perception of Khmer heritage at this time. Focussing on what were considered the most beautiful pieces, and overwhelmed by the numbers of fragments unearthed, the Directeur des Arts and members of the EFEO underestimated the aesthetic, historical or scientific value of the fragments. They decided to suppress, in their eyes, the less beautiful, less interesting pieces. They favoured what they considered “duplicates”, or well-known iconographies.34 At first they seemed genuinely convinced of the lack of interest that these objects would draw; and that selling minor pieces could avoid the theft of major ones. But the departure from original sale practices indicated that the value of a piece fluctuated according to several factors, including not only aesthetics but also the importance of the buyer and his wealth. At the same time, European taste was being trained to appreciate Khmer art. International colonial exhibitions or temporary exhibitions of Khmer art introduced the culture to Western audiences.35 This not only attracted tourists to Cambodia but also prevented the illicit traffic in Khmer art. A negative effect grew from the fact that Western taste became more discriminating. Financial needs also shifted as the 1929 Wall Street crash created a new environment and sales began to be viewed as a means for financial gain.36 Sales to the Citroën collection37 or to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York in the middle of the 1930s demonstrate this shift. At first, the pieces sold were those not fitting the definition of heritage, but progressively some of the finer examples were traded. The Hevajra from the Gate of the Dead in the Metropolitan Museum of Art does not correspond to any of the criteria of the sales: dimensions, iconography, or aesthetic value (see Figs. 2.3, 2.4 and 2.5). It was not submitted to buyers, but was sold to an international museum, with the idea that it could promote the image of Khmer art abroad. It was sold for exactly the reasons why it should not have been sold: because it fulfilled the definition of Khmer heritage given at that time, of which it was one of the best examples. The Hevajra is one of the most well-known examples of a Khmer object sold at this time, but this study should be further pursued to assess the viability of a reconstruction of the entire collection of sold objects.

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Such a reconstruction would determine exactly what was sold, to whom, when and how the pieces can be traced. Most have never been studied because they are in private collections or have entirely disappeared.

Notes 1

2 3

4 5

6

7 8 9

The French School of Asian Studies. See Pierre Singaravélou, L’École française d’Extrême-Orient ou l’institution des marges (1898–1956). Essai d’histoire sociale et politique de la science coloniale (Paris: L’Harmattan, 1999). See Catherine Clémentin-Ojha and Pierre-Yves Manguin, A Century in Asia. The History of the École Française d’Extrême-Orient, 1898–2006 (Paris: EFEO, Éditions Didier Millet, 2007). The so-called “discovery” of these temples was a Western concept only, as memory and usage of the monuments had never been lost for local populations. See Pierre Baptiste, “Le Musée de Da Nang et le développement des études cham: le temps des pionniers (1886–1936),” in Trésors d’art du Vietnam. La sculpture du Champa (Ve-XVe siècles), ed. Pierre Baptiste and Thierry Zéphir (Paris: RMN-Musée des arts asiatiques Guimet, 2005), 3–11. The Cham Museum in Tourane was inaugurated in 1919. Extended in 1936, it was renamed “Musée Henri Parmentier”. It is now the “Museum of Cham Sculpture” (see Nguyễn, chapter 6). Part of his collection was given to the EFEO in the first years of the 1900s. See Henri Parmentier, “Catalogue du Musée Cam de Tourane,” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 19, no. 3 (1919): 5. “… travailler à l’exploration archéologique et philologique de la presqu’île indo-chinoise, de favoriser par tous les moyens la connaissance de son histoire, de ses monuments, de ses idiomes” et “de contribuer à l’étude érudite des régions et des civilisations voisines: Inde, Chine, Malaisie, etc.” Paul Doumer, Gouverneur général de l’Indochine, “Arrêté portant règlement pour la Mission archéologique de l’Indo-Chine”, 15 December 1898, art. 2, Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 1, no. 1 (1901): 67. At this time, legislation for the protection of monuments was passed throughout Europe. In France, for example, the concepts of “heritage” and “historical monument” date from the Revolution at the end of the 18th century. Following developments from the 19th century, the state was willing to intervene in the protection of national monuments (as with Viollet-le-Duc, for example). This museum was created in Saigon in 1900. See Simon Delobel, Éléments pour l’histoire des musées du Cambodge, du Laos et du Vietnam (Paris: École du Louvre, 2005). Auguste Barth, “Lettre à Louis Finot, directeur de l’EFEO,” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 1, no. 1 (1901): 1–7. During international colonial exhibitions, the artistic heritage of the societies placed under colonial rule was staged and exhibited. The image of Angkor, in particular, was used to promote Indochina during the exhibitions of Paris (1889, 1931) and Marseille (1906, 1922). See Caroline Herbelin, “Tocades et discours savants : historiographie des arts de l’Indochine en situation coloniale,” in La construction du discours colonial, ed. Oissila Saaïda and

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10 11

12 13

14

15

16

17

18

Laurick Zerbini (Paris: Karthala, 2009), 125–48. See Christiane Demeulenaere-Douyère and Liliane Hilaire-Perez, Les expositions universelles. Les identités au défi de la modernité (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2014). See Marieke Bloembergen, Colonial Spectacles: The Netherlands and the Dutch East Indies at the World Exhibitions, 1880–1931 (Singapore: Singapore University Press, 2006). See Gabrielle Abbe, “Le développement des arts au Cambodge à l’époque coloniale : George Groslier et l’École des arts cambodgiens (1917–1945),” UDAYA, Journal of Khmer Studies, no. 12 (2012): 7–39. Groslier’s definition of “traditional” Cambodian art mainly referred to the art of Angkor, and especially the temples of the 12th century, such as Angkor Wat. See Ingrid Muan, “Citing Angkor: The ‘Cambodian Arts’ in the Age of Restoration, 1918–2000” (Columbia University, 2001, PhD dissertation). See Gabrielle Abbe, “‘Decadence and Revival’ in Cambodian Arts and the Role of George Groslier (1887–1945)”, in Cultural Heritage as Civilizing Mission, ed. Michael Falser (Heidelberg: Springer, 2015), 123–47. It is now the National Museum of Cambodia. See Gabrielle Abbe, “Éléments pour l’histoire du musée Albert Sarraut de Phnom Penh,” Siksacakr, Journal of Cambodia Research, no. 12–13 (2010–11): 219–34. Vendre “des débris au profit du Groupe d’Angkor”, afin de “diminuer les tentations de certains visiteurs”. Archives EFEO, carton XXXVIII “La Conservation d’Angkor”, dossier “Correspondance 1914–1920”, sous-dossier “R. 51. Angkor. Correspondance 1919”, Commission des Antiquités historiques et archéologiques du Cambodge, Procès-verbal de la séance du 7 novembre 1919. “… commerce de cartes postales et objets d’art”, la vente de “pièces de fouille, débris de poteries et autres qui se trouvent en grand nombre, sont inutilisables et vouées à la destruction ou au trafic”. “Société des Amis d’Angkor. Procèsverbal de la séance du vendredi 13 février 1920” (Statement of the Société des Amis d’Angkor), “Chronique”, Arts et Archéologie Khmers, t.1, 1921–23: 121. Archives EFEO, carton XXXVIII “La Conservation d’Angkor”, dossier “Correspondance 1914–1920”, sous-dossier “R. 51. Angkor. Correspondance 1919”, Commission des Antiquités historiques et archéologiques du Cambodge, Procès-verbal de la séance du 7 novembre 1919. “… projet de mettre en vente les pièces anciennes trouvées en nombre considérable d’exemplaires”. Archives EFEO, carton XI, dossier 12 “Musées”, sous-dossier “1905–1944”, chemise “Musée de Phnom Penh. 1918 (Juillet) – 1925”, Letter from George Groslier to the Director of the EFEO, 11 June 1921. Ibid. “… poteries, statuettes, fragments divers qui se répètent avec une monotonie désespérante, n’ajoutent aucun fait nouveau à notre patrimoine et dorment inutilisées un peu dans tous les coins. En Egypte et en Italie depuis longtemps ce parti est mis en vigueur et rapporte aux Gouvernements des sommes importantes.” “En effet la présence de sculptures sur les pierres destinées à l’empierrement des routes produit un effet déplorable sur les visiteurs et les indigènes, alors même que ces sculptures n’ont aucune valeur. Il est regrettable que pareil choix n’ait pas été fait pour les massifs de pierres entassées dans la 1ère cour intérieure où à côté de sculptures remarquables on trouve des blocs sans aucun intérêt qui encombrent inutilement.” Archives EFEO, Henri Marchal, “Rapport sur les travaux exécutés dans le Groupe d’Angkor pendant le mois de Mai 1917”.

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19

“D’après mon expérience personnelle, l’opinion des étrangers que je vois passer chaque jour et les demandes qu’ils me formulent, je certifie que nous écoulerions ces pièces comme nous le voudrions et aux prix que nous voudrions.” Archives EFEO, carton XI, dossier 12 “Musées”, sous-dossier “1905–1944”, chemise “Musée de Phnom Penh. 1918 (Juillet) – 1925”, Letter from George Groslier to the Director of the EFEO, 11 June 1921. 20 Ibid. “Enfin, de savoir qu’il peut avoir des pièces anciennes garanties par le Musée ne pourra qu’apaiser chez le touriste, le désir “historique” de s’emparer subrepticement de celles qui peuvent s’offrir à lui, hors de toute surveillance.” 21 “… à première vue dangereux.” Archives EFEO, carton XI, dossier 12 “Musées”, sous-dossier “1905–1944”, chemise “Musée de Phnom Penh. 1918 (Juillet) – 1925”, Letter from the Director of the EFEO Louis Finot to George Groslier, 8 July 1921. 22 “… les garder, au moins comme objets d’échange avec les musées étrangers.” 23 “Je sais bien qu’aucune de ces pièces n’est la “littérale” de sa voisine, mais lorsqu’on en a observé et tenu en main une dizaine de chaque qui s’expliquent et se complètent les unes les autres, je me demande à quoi servent les deux cents autres.” Archives EFEO, carton XI, dossier 12 “Musées”, sous-dossier “1905– 1944”, chemise “Musée de Phnom Penh. 1918 (Juillet) – 1925”, Letter from George Groslier to the Director of the EFEO, 22 July 1921. 24 “… ne présentant pas un intérêt scientifique ou artistique de nature à les faire retenir par les Musées ou dépôts publics de la colonie.” Arrêté du 14 février 1923 relatif à la vente d’objets anciens au Cambodge, article 3. 25 When needed, these photographs were joined to letters. Today, they are stored in the archives of the EFEO. 26 Henri Parmentier was Chief of the Archaeological Service of the EFEO from 1904 and during almost all the period until the 1930s. He was often the Interim Director of the EFEO. 27 “Les choses se passent en réalité ainsi : Je mets de côté au cours des travaux tout morceau de pierre dépourvu d’intérêt et que je juge sans valeur aucune. Quand le Directeur de l’École Française ou Parmentier passe ici je lui soumets ces débris et une fois l’autorisation de sortir accordée je les repasse au Directeur des Arts cambodgiens ou à son représentant quand il vient à Angkor: il fixe un prix variant en général de $5 à $30 et ces pierres sont déposées à l’Hôtel d’Angkor. Or si on retire une dizaine de ces pierres qui gardent une forme présentable … le reste est à vomir. Vous verrez par vous-même le reliquat en vitrine des invendus et invendables comme trop informes.” Archives EFEO, carton 9 dossier 9 “Monuments historiques 1904–1945”, sous-dossier “R.10.5. Vente d’antiquités indochinoises. Divers. 1927–1945”, Letter from Henri Marchal to the Director of the EFEO, 5 Apr. 1930. 28 Singaravélou, L’École française d’Extrême-Orient ou l’institution des marges, 249. 29 Archives EFEO, Carton 9 dossier 9 “Monuments historiques 1904–1945”, sous-dossier “R. 10.5 Vente d’antiquités indochinoises. Divers 1927–1945”. 30 “J’ai l’honneur de vous prier de bien vouloir sanctionner définitivement la cession de ces sculptures dont l’aliénation ne privera le patrimoine archéologique du Cambodge d’aucune pièce unique, et contribuera à répandre la connaissance de l’art khmèr dans un des pays d’Europe le mieux placés pour s’y intéresser.” See Archives EFEO, Carton 9 dossier 9 “Monuments historiques 1904–1945”, sous-dossier “R.10.5 Ventes. Cession des sculptures khmères à M. Westendorp Directeur du Musée royal d’Amsterdam. 1930–32.” On these sculptures, now displayed at the Rijksmuseum collection, see William A. Southworth, “The

The Selling of Khmer Artefacts during the Colonial Era

‘Vereniging’ at Angkor: Four sandstone sculptures from Cambodia,” Aziatische Kunst 42, no. 1 (2012): 18–27. I would like to thank Pierre-Yves Manguin for providing me with this article. 31 For a study of the Khmer art collection at the Tokyo National Museum, assembled in 1944 through exchanges between Japan and the EFEO, see Sadao Fujihara, “Les échanges entre le Japon et l’Indochine française durant la seconde guerre mondiale. Aux origines de la collection d’art khmer du musée national de Tokyo,” Ebisu, no. 52 (2015). 32 Other fragments of this statue, excavated at the same time in 1925, are known: fragments of hands are stored in the Dépôt de la Conservation d’Angkor. The legs and pedestal, seen on ancient photographs, were rediscovered on site in 2009. See Peter D. Sharrock, “Hevajra at Bantéay Chmàr,” The Journal of the Walters Art Museum, vol. 64/65, A Curator’s Choice: Essays in Honor of Hiram W. Woodward, Jr. (2006/07): 49–64. 33 Singaravélou, L’École française d’Extrême-Orient ou l’institution des marges, 259–60. 34 It is probably for this reason, more than the taste of the buyers, that fragments of Buddha statues are over-represented in the corpus. 35 See, for example, the sculptures presented in the late 1890s to the Trocadéro Museum in Paris or colonial exhibitions in Paris and Marseille. 36 Clémentin-Ojha and Manguin, A Century in Asia. The History of the École Française d’Extrême-Orient, 1898–2006, 85. 37 The “Mission Citroën”, an automobile expedition through Asia, was organised by André Citroën from Apr. 1931 to Feb. 1932. After the expedition, Alexandre Iacovleff, representative of André Citroën, befriended Victor Goloubew and the EFEO to acquire a collection of Cham and Khmer sculptures of great value. See Singaravélou, L’École française d’Extrême-Orient ou l’institution des marges, “Étude d’un exemple de ‘don’ à l’EFEO : la cession Citroën (1932–1933)”, 254–6.

References Abbe, Gabrielle. “Éléments pour l’histoire du musée Albert Sarraut de Phnom Penh.” Siksacakr, Journal of Cambodia Research, no. 12–13 (2010–11): 219–34. ___ . “Le développement des arts au Cambodge à l’époque coloniale : George Groslier et l’École des arts cambodgiens (1917–1945).” UDAYA, Journal of Khmer Studies, no. 12 (2012): 7–39. ___ . “ʻDecadence and Revival’ in Cambodian Arts and the Role of George Groslier (1887–1945).” In Cultural Heritage as Civilizing Mission, edited by Michael Falser, 123–47. Heidelberg: Springer, 2015. Archives EFEO, Henri Marchal. “Rapport sur les travaux exécutés dans le Groupe d’Angkor pendant le mois de Mai 1917.” Archives EFEO, carton XXXVIII “La Conservation d’Angkor,” dossier “Correspondance 1914–1920,” sous-dossier “R. 51. Angkor. Correspondance 1919,” Commission des Antiquités historiques et archéologiques du Cambodge, Procès-verbal de la séance du 7 novembre 1919. Archives EFEO, carton XI, dossier 12 “Musées”, sous-dossier “1905–1944,” chemise “Musée de Phnom Penh. 1918 (Juillet) – 1925”, Letter from George Groslier to the Director of the EFEO, 11 June 1921.

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Archives EFEO, carton XI, dossier 12 “Musées”, sous-dossier “1905–1944,” chemise “Musée de Phnom Penh. 1918 (Juillet) – 1925,” Letter from the Director of the EFEO Louis Finot to George Groslier, 8 July 1921. Archives EFEO, carton XI, dossier 12 “Musées”, sous-dossier “1905–1944,” chemise “Musée de Phnom Penh. 1918 (Juillet) – 1925,” Letter from George Groslier to the Director of the EFEO, 22 July 1921. Archives EFEO, carton 9 dossier 9 “Monuments historiques 1904–1945,” sous-dossier “R.10.5. Vente d’antiquités indochinoises. Divers. 1927–1945,” Letter from Henri Marchal to the Director of the EFEO, 5 Apr. 1930. Archives EFEO, Carton 9 dossier 9 “Monuments historiques 1904–1945,” sousdossier “R. 10.5 Vente d’antiquités indochinoises. Divers 1927–1945.” Archives EFEO, Carton 9 dossier 9 “Monuments historiques 1904–1945”, sousdossier “R.10.5 Ventes. Cession des sculptures khmères à M. Westendorp Directeur du Musée royal d’Amsterdam. 1930–32.” Archives EFEO, Carton 9 dossier 9 “Monuments historiques 1904–1945,” sousdossier “R. 10.5 Vente d’antiquités indochinoises. Divers 1927–1945.” Archives EFEO, Carton 9 dossier 9 “Monuments historiques 1904–1945”, sousdossier “R.10.5 Ventes. Cession des sculptures khmères à M. Westendorp Directeur du Musée royal d’Amsterdam. 1930–32.” Arrêté du 14 février 1923 relatif à la vente d’objets anciens au Cambodge, article 3. Baptiste, Pierre. “Le Musée de Da Nang et le développement des études cham : le temps des pionniers (1886–1936).” In Trésors d’art du Vietnam. La sculpture du Champa (Ve-XVe siècles), edited by Pierre Baptiste and Thierry Zéphir, 3–11. Paris: RMN-Musée des arts asiatiques Guimet, 2005. Barth, Auguste. “Lettre à Louis Finot, directeur de l’EFEO.” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 1, no. 1 (1901): 1–7. Bloembergen, Marieke. Colonial Spectacles: The Netherlands and the Dutch East Indies at the World Exhibitions, 1880–1931. Singapore: Singapore University Press, 2006. Clémentin-Ojha, Catherine and Pierre-Yves Manguin. A Century in Asia. The History of the École Française d’Extrême-Orient, 1898–2006. Paris: EFEO, Éditions Didier Millet, 2007. Delobel, Simon. Éléments pour l’histoire des musées du Cambodge, du Laos et du Vietnam. Paris: École du Louvre, 2005. Demeulenaere-Douyère, Christiane and Liliane Hilaire-Perez. Les expositions universelles. Les identités au défi de la modernité. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2014. Doumer, Paul. Gouverneur général de l’Indochine. “Arrêté portant règlement pour la Mission archéologique de l’Indo-Chine,” 15 December 1898, art. 2, Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 1, no. 1 (1901): 67. Fujihara, Sadao. “Les échanges entre le Japon et l’Indochine française durant la seconde guerre mondiale. Aux origines de la collection d’art khmer du musée national de Tokyo.” Ebisu, no. 52 (2015). Herbelin, Caroline. “Tocades et discours savants : historiographie des arts de l’Indochine en situation coloniale.” In La construction du discours colonial, edited by Oissila Saaïda and Laurick Zerbini, 125–48. Paris: Karthala, 2009. Muan, Ingrid. “Citing Angkor: The ‘Cambodian Arts’ in the Age of Restoration, 1918–2000.” PhD dissertation, Columbia University, 2001. Parmentier, Henri. “Catalogue du Musée Cam de Tourane.” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 19, no. 3 (1919): 1–114.

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Sharrock, Peter D. “Hevajra at Bantéay Chhmàr.” The Journal of the Walters Art Museum 64/65, A Curator’s Choice: Essays in Honor of Hiram W. Woodward, Jr. (2006/07): 49–64. Singaravélou, Pierre. L’École française d’Extrême-Orient ou l’institution des marges (1898–1956). Essai d’histoire sociale et politique de la science coloniale. Paris: L’Harmattan, 1999. “Société des Amis d’Angkor. Procès-verbal de la séance du vendredi 13 février 1920” (Statement of the Société des Amis d’Angkor), “Chronique,” Arts et Archéologie Khmers, t.1, 1921–23: 121. Southworth, William A. “The ‘Vereniging’ at Angkor: Four sandstone sculptures from Cambodia.” Aziatische Kunst 42, no. 1 (2012): 18–27.

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Chapter 3

THE LOOTING OF KOH KER AND THE RETURN OF THE PRASAT CHEN STATUES

Chea Socheat, Muong Chanraksmey, and Louise Tythacott1

INTRODUCTION Between 2013 and 2016, seven imposing sandstone statues from the 10th-century temple complex of Koh Ker were returned by prominent US auction houses and museums to Cambodia. These restitutions took place amidst great publicity; “rarely”, as Hauser-Schäublin remarks, “has an ensemble of Khmer antiquities stirred up such a public discussion about looting”.2 The involvement of Sotheby’s, Christie’s, the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, as well as other renowned American art museums, no doubt raised the profile of the returns.3 Over the past decade restitution has become an increasingly significant issue for museums in the West, and yet for much of this time it has been artefacts acquired in the 19th century under colonial power relations that have dominated requests – the Parthenon/Elgin Marbles, the Benin Bronzes, the Rosetta Stone and, most recently, material looted in 1860 from China’s imperial garden site, the Yuanmingyuan (“Summer Palace”).4 The seven, so-called “blood antiquities”5 from Koh Ker, looted in the late 20th century – the most recent causes célèbres – have arguably shifted global attention regarding illicit trafficking and restitution to the Southeast Asian region. Such returns were made possible by a combination of factors, among which should be highlighted the efforts of the Cambodian government – who signed the UNESCO convention as early as 19726 – and who, from the 1990s, established the legal and institutional mechanisms necessary to begin to ensure cultural heritage protection in the post-war period.7 In addition to this, we have seen the US/Cambodia bilateral agreement in 2013, the work of Interpol, the research and tenacity of Western lawyers and specialists, and, above all, the increasing expertise and activism of Cambodian organisations and cultural heritage professionals in pursuing restitution claims.8

The Looting of Koh Ker and the Return of the Prasat Chen Statues

This chapter focuses on the origins, looting and return of statues from Cambodia’s ancient capital, Koh Ker. It begins with an introduction to the significance of this tenth-century site and moves on to a discussion of the plundering of its statuary in the late 20th century, reproducing for the first time an important set of interviews undertaken in 2012 with local residents by Chea Socheat from the National Museum of Cambodia, which provide invaluable testimony to the looting. The restitutions of the seven Prasat Chen statues from museums and auction houses in the US are then profiled. It should be noted, however, that while these returns demonstrate an important and much welcome shift in approach, there are, nevertheless, many other pieces of looted Koh Ker art which remain unlocated today – still in the possession, no doubt, of private collectors and dealers in the West. THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE ART OF KOH KER Koh Ker is well-known in Cambodian history as the ephemeral capital, created in 921 by King Jayavarman IV (r. 921–41).9 The site is located outside the Angkor plateau, northeast of the city of Yasodharapura, the Angkorian capital between the ninth and 13th centuries (with the exception of the Koh Ker interlude). The site corresponds to the ancient royal city of Chok Gargyar, a Khmer toponym known through the period epigraphy. According to the remaining archaeological evidence, such as temple architecture and other structures, clear signs have emerged that the city dominated around 35 square kilometres of the region.10 After the death of Jayavarman IV in 941/42, however, the city was no longer the capital. Today, Koh Ker refers to the group of temples located in Sra Yang Commune, Kulen District, Preah Vihear Province.11 This is a village around 75 kilometres west of the centre of Kulen District and 135 kilometres northeast of the centre of Siem Reap. There are two main roads which lead to the site: one from the national capital, Phnom Penh, through Preah Vihear Province, the other crossing the Siem Reap Province of Svay Loe District. Before 2004, Koh Ker was administered by the Ministry of Culture of Cambodia and its rights were later transferred to the APSARA Authority in 2005.12 More recently, in 2016, it was taken over by the new Preah Vihear Authority. The protected zone of Koh Ker covers an area of 81 square kilometres and consists of more than 180 sanctuaries, among which are two important temples: Prasat Thom and Prasat Chen, respectively located in the north and south of the Rahal baray.13 Prasat Thom, a pyramidal sanctuary, was dedicated to Shiva and formed the base for a monumental linga.14 It also contained the remains of a monumental representation of

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dancing Shiva, probably located near the entrance. Prasat Chen temple for its part was dedicated to Vishnu, as evidenced by the remains of an eight-armed statue representing this cosmic deity. The iconography of this temple is singular and comprises two narrative groupings from the Hindu epics: the Mahabharata, located in the western pavilion, and the Ramayana, in the eastern pavilion.15 It is statues from these two groupings, as we shall see, that have been the focus of restitution requests. The repatriations were based on tangible elements related to the specifics of Koh Ker’s art. Firstly, the analysis of the iconography and the significance of the temples, led by French archaeologist Éric Bourdonneau, played a key-role: it helped demonstrate the iconography of the missing statues on the site.16 Indeed, the unique character of the archaeological group at Koh Ker has been highlighted by Bourdonneau: the ensemble presents a unique type of monumental architecture and statuary. What Bourdonneau describes as “narrative iconography” is particularly interesting and is one of the peculiarities of the site. While bas-reliefs characterised narrative representation at Angkor, Koh Ker, by contrast, included an exceptional ensemble of three-dimensional sculptures. To better understand the significance of the three-dimensional scenes represented in Prasat Chen, Bourdonneau turned to the mythological imagery shown in the bas-reliefs of the tenth-century site of Banteay Srei. By comparing the iconographic programme of the bas-reliefs of Banteay Srei with remains of statues found at Prasat Chen, he identified the two narrative scenes from the great Hindu epics, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. He was thus able to recognise the freestanding statues of Bhima and Duryodhana from Koh Ker, which are the only ones of their kind (see discussion of returns below). Reconstructions of the narrative programmes of these temples made it possible to list the missing pieces according to their iconography; this analysis, in addition to their stylistic traits, was crucial in demonstrating that the looted statues could not have come from any other temple. The statuary of Koh Ker presents unique stylistic characteristics. Most sculptures are around 140–60 centimetres high – much larger than other Khmer figures. Statues combining these two criteria – iconography and proportions – thus left little room for uncertainty. Finally, comparison of the statues with the pedestals left on site was the last element which allowed identification of pieces from Koh Ker, as will be seen later in the chapter. Koh Ker, therefore, is unique – it is the only Angkorian capital located outside the plain; it gave rise to an exceptional monumental sculpture; it is the only site with a three-dimensional iconographic programme; and also, in Bourdonneau’s reading, it is the place where the cult of the devaraja, a religious cult purported to have been at the foundations of Angkorian power and whose identity and historical parameters have eluded scholars

The Looting of Koh Ker and the Return of the Prasat Chen Statues

for decades, seems to have appeared for the first time (that is, in Prasat Thom).17 This singularity gave additional weight to the restitution process, making calls for the return of statues compelling. COLLECTING AND LOOTING THE SCULPTURES OF KOH KER Cambodia had been under the French Protectorate since 1863 when the first Western expeditions reached Koh Ker in the late 19th century. In 1873, French explorer and artist, Louis Delaporte (1842–1925), visited the site before continuing his mission to Luang Prabang in present-day Laos.18 The mission aimed to understand the cultures along the Mekong Delta (Exploration du Mekong) which included architectural studies of the monuments of the Angkor Empire. It was supported by Doudart de Lagrée (1823–68), the leader of the Mekong expedition from 1866–68.19 Delaporte reached Angkor on 1 July 1873. After visiting Koh Ker, the same year he sketched temple plans of the site and published them for the first time in 1880.20 He described in detail the geography of Koh Ker, then covered in jungle and difficult to approach. The Delaporte mission, like other colonial scientific expeditions during this period, acquired a range of material. Louis Delaporte was one of the fervent defenders of Khmer art in France, instrumental in the creation of the Musée Indochinois du Trocadéro in Paris.21 Collecting statuary was not then illegal, according to colonial regulations, and the many sculptures collected were sent to France. Among these, two pieces from Koh Ker were shipped in 1874 – a statue of the Shaivite goddess Uma from the sanctuary of Prasat Kraham and a seated sculpture of King Jayavarman IV from the third gopura22 in front of Prasat Thom.23 The arrival of Delaporte led to many scholars developing interest in this ancient city. The work of Delaporte introduced Khmer art to France and, based on his studies, scholars such as Henri Parmentier (1923–27) and George Groslier (1923) were able to develop their work (see Abbe, chapter 2). In this colonial context, Khmer monuments were placed under the supervision of the École française d’Extrême-Orient (EFEO, French School for Asian Studies), created in 1900.24 In the early 20th century, members of the EFEO, such as Henri Parmentier, spent time conducting comprehensive studies at Koh Ker.25 Thus, Parmentier was able to publish L’art khmer classique in 1939 and collect Koh Ker sculptures between 1920 and 1923. These, for the first time, were accessioned by the Musée Albert Sarraut set up in 1920 (now the National Museum of Cambodia).26 Included were a Giant Head,27 arriving at the museum on 1 January 1920, and six fragments of a dancing Shiva sculpture, which included the left feet,28 from Prasat

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Kraham in 1923.29 There was a torso of the goddess Kali and part of a hand carrying a human head from Prasat Kraham temple in 1923. From the 1920s, the protection of Khmer artefacts grew stronger, and trading abroad was prohibited by colonial law. But protection measures sometimes required the removal of the statues from their original locations for safekeeping in local museums. In the ensuing years, more sculpture was sent to Phnom Penh – for example, in 1949, statues of a Bhima and Duryodhana30 from the west entrance of Prasat Kraham and a Garuda from the third gopura of Prasat Thom in 1952.31 Bali and Sugrib32 from the east entrance of Prasat Chen, the torso of a dancing Shiva33 from Prasat Chrab, a torso of Vishnu34 from Prasat Pram, and a face of a dancing Shiva35 from Prasat Kraham were all accessioned. In 1954, two sculptures of a mythical lion36 from Prasat Thom arrived, and a sculpture of a goddess37 and a torso of a Shiva sculpture38 from Prasat Chrab, while the museum received a statue of Arjuna39 from Prasat Thom in 1959 and a head of a dancing Shiva from Prasat Kraham in 1960.40 These consignments were part of conservation measures, Koh Ker being remote and its protection difficult. Since then, numbers of other sculptures from Koh Ker have been moved to secure domiciles, either in the National Museum of Cambodia or the Angkor Conservation Office in Siem Reap. After the 1930s, however, no further detailed studies were undertaken at the site, an historical gap that hampers efforts to identify pieces today.41 It was only in the 1990s, when the situation allowed scholars from the EFEO to return to Cambodia, that new inventories, in collaboration with the Cambodian Ministry of Culture and Fine Arts, were possible. In 2009, the EFEO set up a research programme at Koh Ker, under the leadership of Éric Bourdonneau. The location of Koh Ker far from the centre of the country certainly facilitated the looting. While some thefts occurred earlier in the 20th century, these undoubtedly increased after the tragic events of the 1970s. Even though, as we have seen, statues were looked after before the 1970s at the National Museum of Cambodia or the Angkor Conservation Office in Siem Reap, many masterpieces also remained in situ in the remote areas. In the late 1960s to early 1970s, the looting intensified, as a result of a new road opening up access to Koh Ker and the chaotic political situation.42 Some of the sculptures were removed – transported through the traditional cart trail, sometimes using elephants – and taken to Thailand to be sold on the art market.43 During the civil war (1970– 75), Koh Ker was divided into zones, some belonging to the Khmer Republic government, others to the Democratic Kampuchea (DK, more commonly known as Khmer Rouge) military. This insecure period provided further incentives for looting. With the Vietnamese military

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presence from 1979 to 1989 more sculptures were taken.44 From 1979 to 1980, in particular, Koh Ker was a war zone – a place of intense battles between various factions. Many of the troops later settled down alongside villagers in the locality. After 1979, Koh Ker was controlled by the Vietnamese backed People’s Republic of Kampuchea (PRK) government installed in Phnom Penh but the DK’s military groups were incorporated into the PRK’s military as a counterweight. The civil war ended with a peace treaty in 1991 and the surrender of the Khmer Rouge in 1998.

3.1

Fig. 3.1 Ganesha, photographed by Henri Parmentier in 1937. Archive, National Museum of Cambodia.

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From then on, many local residents, who had migrated to other villages during the war, returned to their original homes in the Koh Ker area.45 In April 2012, at the request of the UNESCO National Commission in Cambodia together with the UNESCO office in Phnom Penh, Chea Socheat, Curator in the National Museum of Cambodia and EFEO employee in the museum restoration workshop, undertook research on the disappearance of sculptures from the temples of Koh Ker.46 He gathered information from the local population on the subject of the removal of numerous statues between 1970 and 2000. This research was undertaken in co-operation with Samnang Phin, curator with APSARA, who was stationed at the Koh Ker site at the time. They took with them a set of photographs assembled by UNESCO, which showed both lost sculptures and existing sculptures which are deemed to have a possible provenance in Koh Ker.47 There is only one village in the vicinity of the site – Koh Ker village – which is located in the commune of Srayang, Kulen district, Preah Vihear province. The village is situated 500 metres to the north of Prasat Thom. In 2012, it had around 170 families, mostly farmers (of rice and manioc). Several of the villagers undertook work relating to the upkeep and security of the archaeological site. During the civil war the villagers took refuge in the district of Kuel (around 30 kilometres to the east), returning to the village of Koh Ker between 1998 and 2000. There were many soldiers based in this area: Khmer Rouge, government troops and troops supporting DK factions. On the first day of the visit, Chea Socheat and Samnang Phin tried to make initial contact with the villagers. It was not until the second day that communication was established, and questions were posed relating to the subject of the sculptures from the nearby temples. There follows a selection of the meetings and witness statements:48 While I (Chea Socheat) was talking to a shopkeeper who ran a small grocery stall in front of her home, I learned that her husband, age 55, formerly a soldier in the government army and now a member of the local council, was very familiar with the site and the sculptures…. He looked carefully at the photos and offered to take me to the places where he had found sculptures. In particular he was able to identify three photos from my collections: Skanda seated on a peacock; Ganesha of Prasat Bak and the body of a bird-woman. Other people joined in the discussion: some spoke of the situation at the entrance to Prasat Kraham and mentioned

The Looting of Koh Ker and the Return of the Prasat Chen Statues

the removal of numerous sculptures between 1980 and 1997. Everyone was of the opinion that illicit digs were already taking place in the temples from 1972 onwards. On Thursday 5 April, I went to another informant in the late morning. He took me to see the temples where he had uncovered sculptures in the period 1980 to 1995. Prasat Krachap: In 1993 or 1994 one informant had unearthed in the central tower a sculpture of Skanda seated on a peacock – as illustrated in the book, Adoration and Glory (2004: 146–8). His superiors then sold the piece which was taken away in the direction of Thailand (he did not say how or with whom). Prasat Bak: Around 1996 this informant turned his attention to the statue of Ganesha, also illustrated in Adoration and Glory (2004: 168–70).49 The body was detached from its pedestal with tools. To facilitate its removal the body was cut into pieces. He remembered that certain parts were already held together by iron pins, which made this operation easier (this statue had, in fact, been restored by Henri Parmentier at the end of the 1920s). The broken pedestal was left in place and the pieces of body were transported in a buffalo cart in the direction of Siem Reap (he did not say by whom). At the time of our visit I (Chea Socheat) found at the back of the temple a fragment of shoulder which I had identified in 2008. Prasat Chen: In 1986 the informant excavated the interior of the western gopura. He uncovered two groups of six sculptures placed on either side of two other sculptures that he described as “Chinese warriors”. The whole group had been sold (at a low price in relation to the going rates in the 1990s) and taken by soldiers in the direction of Thailand. Around 1996 he also found two figures of bird-women – one of which is illustrated in Adoration and Glory (pp. 161–3) – next to the entrance to the principle tower of Prasat Chen. They were buried to a depth of around 60 centimetres. On the ground I (Chea Socheat) identified a fragment of sculpture that could have corresponded to a wing. (The illustration in Adoration and Glory [p. 163], clearly shows part of a wing missing.)

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At the main entrance to Prasat Thom: Some of the group mentioned the transportation of statues by the French in the 1950s and 1960s. This almost certainly corresponds to the transfer of pieces of sculpture to the Phnom Penh Museum – heads of a dancing Shiva, Garuda, Kalichamunda, wrestlers (as discussed earlier in this chapter).50 One informant mentioned the rumour that some statues were thrown into the moats at Prasat Thom. Prasat Thom Gopura II: Two informants told me that the statues (of Yama and his/her group, the Moon god, Surya) were still in place in 1975. After 1997 pieces were taken away and the statues were moved. Prasat Kraham: Between 1980 and 1997 many sculptures were looted. According to an informant, the statue of Umamaheshvara that was situated in front of Prasat Kraham was still in place – though in pieces – in 1975. When she went back in 1997 the group of statues was no longer there. According to a number of informants (some of whom today work for the Heritage Protection Police) in 1993 or 1994 someone attempted to use dynamite to detach the three remaining faces of the dancing Shiva of Prasat Kraham. The faces exploded into pieces. It was at the same time that the central motifs of the lintels at Prasat Kraham were carried away in the direction of Thailand (doubtless the same happened to the lions from the corner of the pedestal of the dancing Shiva). Nobody remembered the missing door guards (lions at Prasat Kraham, bird-headed men at gopura I West, horse-headed men at gopura II West). Prasat Bantheay Pi Choan: According to one informant, the head of Brahma, illustrated in Adoration and Glory (pp. 144–5), comes from this temple. On Friday I went to the house of another informant, who was head of the commune of Srayang in the time of Sangkum Reas Niyum (the Independence period under Prince Sihanouk in

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the 1950s–60s). He has many memories but they are now very vague. I also met others (some from the Heritage Protection Police), who made references to certain intermediaries who organised the removal of statues from 1980 to 1997.

According to Chea Socheat’s interviews, the responses of the locals were similar. Heavy looting took place between 1980 and 1998. Many sculptures were broken into pieces or removed from the sites. Groups of statues from Prasat Chen and other sculptures located in the area became targets for treasure hunters. The peak period for smuggling – as in many parts of Cambodia – was from the mid-1980s to the late 1990s as the country was opened up to international looting syndicates.51 Indeed, as noted in the introductory chapter, it has been estimated that more than half of Cambodia’s art was plundered during this period.52 There is a lack of concrete information on exactly how and when sculptures from Koh Ker were removed, as well as who was responsible. “The looters are often unknown, apart from pillaging by some military personnel … local villagers … dare not say for fear of revenge as long as chief looters are alive”, as Miura remarks.53 It is widely recognised that the Khmer Rouge, the Cambodian Army, the paramilitary, the Thai, the Vietnamese soldiers all took things, and that most statues were sent initially to Bangkok.54 According to Hauser-Schäublin, looting took place “on demand” … “art dealers ordered artefacts from photographs taken of Koh Ker and looters subsequently hacked sculptures to pieces…. The pieces were then transported in whole ‘convoys of trucks, some with a military escort’ to Thailand, where they were sold to wealthy Westerners”.55 As noted, too, in Chea Socheat’s interviews, statues were hacked, dismembered, even blown up – fragments being easier to transport – with heads and torsos smuggled separately, and often ending up in

3.2

Fig. 3.2 Ruins of Koh Ker in 2013. Photograph by Chea Socheat.

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different private collections, auctions and museums in the West. In some instances, as sculptures were hurriedly broken off at the ankles, feet were left in situ on pedestals. Then director of the National Museum of Cambodia, Kong Vireak recounted that when a German APSARA Project team was sent to Koh Ker in 2007, a British stone conservator, Simon Warrack, was able to identify, from a pedestal with the feet remaining, a statue published in Adoration and Glory.56 Along with the work of the French archaeologist, Éric Bourdonneau, digital comparison in 2009 confirmed that the ankles left on two pedestals in the jungles matched the ankles of statues in the West – a Bhima in the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena, California, and a Duryodhana figure, then in a private collection (to emerge in 2011 for auction at Sotheby’s, New York, as will be seen below).57 As a result of APSARA excavations, seven new pedestals were identified in Prasat Chen, some of which had originally been attached to the Pandava brothers from the Mahabharata: two of these statues were then on display in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.58 All four of the abovementioned sculptures were smuggled out of Cambodia in the 1970s.59 Other sculptures from Koh Ker are in public museums, galleries and private collections around the world. One of the key sources illustrating the fate of Koh Ker material – as noted previously – is the coffee table book, Adoration and Glory: The Golden Age of Khmer Art (2004) by Emma C. Bunker and Douglas Latchford, a connoisseurial art catalogue which includes many unprovenanced antiquities from private, anonymous collections in the West, and which depicts 16 illustrations of Koh Ker statues. Photographs from this book were used by Chea Socheat during the course of his interviews: he printed out pages and showed illustrations to villagers. According to Miura’s research with local people, all the Koh Ker pieces represented in Adoration and Glory were “unlawfully removed”.60 Indeed, the book has been ironically characterised by UNESCO representative Anne Lemaistre as “the inventory of the missing cultural patrimony of Cambodia”.61 RETURNING THE SCULPTURES OF PRASAT CHEN As a result of the 1996 Cambodian Law on the Protection of Cultural Heritage and the 1970 UNESCO Convention (see Tythacott and Ardiyansyah, chapter 1), a number of sculptures removed illegally from Cambodia have been returned.62 In particular, over recent years, Cambodia has seen the restitution of seven of the Koh Ker statues from Prasat Chen. In March 2011, as mentioned above, Sotheby’s offered the sculpture of Duryodhana at auction in New York. Appearing on the front cover of the catalogue, the piece was consigned for an estimated

The Looting of Koh Ker and the Return of the Prasat Chen Statues

US$2–3 million.63 Alerted to the sale, Éric Bourdonneau prepared a report which was sent to the UNESCO office in Phnom Penh.64 On the day it was to be sold, Tan Theany, Secretary General of the National Commission for UNESCO in Phnom Penh, wrote to Sotheby’s informing them of its illegal removal in 1972, and that its feet were still in situ at Koh Ker.65 On the basis of the 1970 UNESCO Convention, Sok An, Cambodia’s then Deputy Prime Minister, was alerted, and the statue was removed from sale.66 The sculpture had been acquired in 1975 by the husband of the Belgium vendor, Decia Ruspoli di Poggio Suasa.67 Her now-deceased husband, an art collector, had bought it at Spink & Son,68 the Londonbased auction-house who apparently knew it had been stolen from Prasat Chen in 1972 – and that “the original seller conspired with the looting network to steal it”.69 The US Attorney’s office in Manhattan intervened in the sale, and during negotiations Sotheby’s tried to oblige Cambodia to find funds to purchase the statue or find a patron who would buy it.70 A wealthy Hungarian art collector and former diplomat in Southeast Asia, Istvan Zelnik, even offered to reimburse Sotheby’s US$1 million – “as an act of good will” – though the deal fell through.71 An agreement was finally reached on 12 December 2013, with Sotheby’s returning the statue in June 2014.72 This high-profile restitution precipitated demands for the return of the other statues from both the eastern and western pavilions of Prasat Chen. The next quest for the Cambodian government was Duryodhana’s counterpart in the original grouping, the statue of Bhima at the Norton Simon Museum. Bought from a Madison Avenue Asian Art dealer in 1976, Norton Simon donated it to his museum in 1980.73 As noted previously, Simon Warrack had identified this sculpture from Adoration and Glory, and digital comparison confirmed the match.74 With such irrefutable evidence and analysis by Bourdonneau, the statue was quickly returned, by June 2014.75 Indeed, the same day as the Norton Simon Museum announced the return of the Bhima, Christie’s ordered the restitution of its Balarama statue (9 May 2014) – also originally part of the narrative grouping at Prasat Chen.76 The two life-size “Kneeling Attendants”, the Pandava brothers, Sadeva and Nakula – part of the Prasat Chen group – were returned from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York in 2013. Four separate pieces had originally been donated to the Museum between 1987 and 1992. The first – one of the heads – arrived in 1987 from Spink & Son and Latchford, then an associate of the auction house.77 The second head was given in 1989 by Raymond G. and Milla Louise Handley: they too had acquired it from Spink & Son in 1987, for US$42,000.78 The two torsos were donated – again by Latchford – in 1992. Neither Spink & Son nor

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the museum had, at the time, been concerned with detailed provenance information.79 Heads and bodies were joined by the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s conservators in 1993 and the statues were prominently displayed by 1994, flanking the entrance to the Southeast Asian galleries.80 The restitution of this material in 2013 was very different to that of the Sotheby’s Duryodhana, however, with the Metropolitan Museum of Art displaying much greater sensitivity to the moral implications of the

Fig. 3.3 Duryodhana, from Koh Ker, returned to Cambodia in 2014. Photograph courtesy of the Stone Conservation Laboratory of the National Museum of Cambodia.

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return.81 Museum staff liaised directly with Cambodia and voluntarily sent the sculptures back on 29 June 2013.82 The second round of restitutions from American museums concerned statues originally located in the eastern pavilion of Prasat Chen, depicting a battle from the Ramayana. Excavations had revealed how the base of the Hanuman at the Cleveland Museum of Art, purchased in 1982 using the Leonard C. Hanna Jr. Fund and illustrated

3.4

Fig. 3.4 Bhima, from Koh Ker, returned to Cambodia in 2014. Photograph courtesy of the Stone Conservation Laboratory of the National Museum of Cambodia.

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Fig. 3.5 Hanuman surrounded by Apsara dancers. Photograph by Kong Vireak.

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in Adoration and Glory,83 matched exactly a remaining pedestal at this site.84 Thus, in May 2015, the Cleveland Museum of Art announced it would voluntarily return the piece. The Denver Art Museum’s torso of Rama – acquired from the dealer, Doris Weiner in New York in 1986,85 exhibited in its Asian Art gallery, and illustrated in Adoration and Glory86 – too fitted perfectly a pedestal in Koh Ker. Though the museum had no further information regarding provenance, it voluntarily returned the statue. The museum’s director, Christoph Heinrich, announced, as a result, that a “collaborative relationship” had been forged between the Denver Museum and the National Museum of Cambodia, with the development of “cooperative projects and programs” aimed to benefit both Denver and Phnom Penh.87 The return of such cultural material, therefore, was not to have been conceptualised simply as a “loss”, but reconfigured in relation to gains in knowledge, relationships and understanding accrued by the process of negotiation and repatriation – a notion discussed in many restitution case studies and debates in the past.88

The Looting of Koh Ker and the Return of the Prasat Chen Statues

While these seven large statues from Prasat Chen may have been identified and returned, many other pieces highlighted in Chea Socheat’s interviews from other temple complexes in Koh Ker have, unfortunately, remained unlocated. Four statues in particular were recognised by local residents during the discussions, as illustrated in Adoration and Glory: the Skanda seated on a peacock from Prasat Krachap (p. 146), then in a “Private Collection: New York”; the statue of Ganesha from Prasat Bak (pp. 168–70) in an “American Private Collection”; a figure of a birdwoman from Prasat Chen (pp. 161–3) and the head of Brahma from Prasat Bantheay Pi Choan (p. 145), the latter two also indicated at the time in “Private Collections”. CONCLUSION The circumstances described in this chapter clearly represent a complex history with convoluted systems of illicit trafficking, multiple actors and little-to-no written documentation or evidence of removals. Broken pedestals and feet left in situ by the looters have, as we have seen, been crucial. Interviews undertaken with local residents discussed here too are vital evidence. As Hauser-Schäublin argues, while the exact routes the material took to get from Asia to the auction houses and dealers in the West at present remain unknown, there must be individuals alive who still remember the illicit networks.89 The imposing statues from Prasat Chen have clearly been some of the most sought-after Khmer antiquities, commanding high prices at auction, yet they represent but a fraction of the looted Koh Ker and Khmer material around the world. There are many other artefacts from Koh Ker – complete statues as well as mutilated fragments – which remain hidden in private collections in the West.90 The head, arms and feet of the Rama returned from the Denver Art Museum, for example, have not, so far, been located. Cambodia has led exceptionally successful campaigns to get its objects back – and the artefacts returned now perform valuable roles as agents intimately embroiled in notions of national identity, self-determination and healing, in the aftermath of decades of brutal warfare.91 The restitutions from Prasat Chen were accompanied by ceremonies to welcome them, reunification with pedestals, and prominent display at the National Museum of Cambodia.92 The Sadeva and Nakula returns from the Metropolitan Museum of Art were honoured with jasmine garlands by Prime Minister, Hun Sen, bowing in front of them.93 Heng Sophady, then Lecturer in Archaeology at the Royal University of Fine Arts, referred to the repatriations as a “unification” of a culture fractured by years of war:94 Chan Tani, then Secretary of State of the Kingdom of Cambodia, stated in relation to the sculpture of Rama:

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Fig. 3.6 Prime Minister Hun Sen welcomes the return of a Koh Ker statue. Photograph courtesy of The Phnom Penh Post.

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The voluntary return of the statue demonstrates the museum’s sensitivity to the importance of Koh Ker era to the Cambodian culture. The return also highlights the serious looting in the past that had occurred in our country and the government’s efforts to repatriate those artifacts that left the country illegally which are parts of our soul as a nation.95

Today, Koh Ker statues occupy key positions in the National Museum of Cambodia in Phnom Penh. The goal, according to the museum’s former director, Kong Vireak, is to exhibit all the museum’s pieces together in a special display on Prasat Chen’s narrative groupings.96 Importantly, too, Koh Ker is now one of the sites on the Tentative List that Cambodia has sent to the World Heritage Committee.97

Notes 1 The authors are extremely grateful to Gabrielle Abbe for her detailed editorial work on this chapter and to Ashley Thompson for her useful feedback on various drafts. 2 Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” in Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution, ed. Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin and Lyndel Prott (London and New York: Routledge, 2016), 69. 3 Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 64. 4 Moira G. Simpson, Museums and repatriation: an account of contested items in museum collections (London: Museums Association, 1997); Louise Tythacott and Kostas Arvanitis, eds., Museums and Restitution: New Practices, New Approaches (New York and London: Routledge, 2014); Jeanette Greenfield, The return of cultural treasures (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989). 5 Tess Davis, “Returning Duryodhana,” Bostonia (Summer 2014): 15. 6 Cambodia ratified the UNESCO 1970 Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property on 26 Sept. 1972. 7 The core of the Cambodian government’s request to UNESCO was to make the temporary Angkor site protection status permanent. See Ang Choulean, Ashley Thompson, and Eric Prenowitz, Angkor, a Manual for the Past, Present and the Future (Phnom Penh: APSARA, 1996). 8 Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 64, and Kong Vireak, “Cambodia: The Koh Ker Restitution Cases,” World Heritage, no. 87 (Apr. 2018): 19. 9 Éric Bourdonneau, “Nouvelles recherches sur Koh Ker (Chok Gargyar). Jayavarman IV et la maîtrise des mondes,” Monuments et mémoires de la Fondation Eugène Piot 90 (2011): 95–141. In 2009 the École française d’Extrême-Orient set up a research programme on the Koh Ker site led by Éric Bourdonneau in collaboration with the APSARA Authority. See https://www. efeo.fr/base.php?code=808.

The Looting of Koh Ker and the Return of the Prasat Chen Statues

Claude Jacques and Philippe Lafond, The Khmer Empire: Cities and Sanctuaries, Fifth to the Thirteenth Centuries (Bangkok: River Books, 2007), 110. 11 Bruno Bruguier and Juliette Lacroix, Preah Khan, Koh Ker et Preah Vihear: les provinces septentrionales (Phnom Penh: Japan Printing House, 2013). 12 Authority for the Protection of the Site and Management of the Region of Angkor. 13 The baray are artificial expanses of water which, in the Khmer Empire, played a religious role but were also probably used for irrigation. 14 An abstract representation of Shiva, it is the most sacred image of Shaivite temples. Phallic, it evokes the creative force of the deity. 15 Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 66–7, for details of the 15 sculptures altogether. 16 Bourdonneau, “Nouvelles recherches sur Koh Ker,” 95–141; and the interview of Éric Bourdonneau: https://chasingaphrodite.com/2014/04/10/rebuildingkoh-ker-a-3d-reconstruction-restores-context-to-a-looted-khmer-temple/ 17 Bourdonneau, “Nouvelles recherches sur Koh Ker,” 95–141. 18 Louis Delaporte, Voyage au Cambodge (Paris: Delagrave, 1880). 19 The Mission d’exploration du Mékong (1866–68), led by Ernest Doudart de Lagrée and Francis Garnier, was meant to explore the navigability of the Upper Mekong and evaluate the existence of a riverine route to China. The composition of the mission reflected the desire of the colonial authorities to better understand Indochina. It consisted of a botanist, a geologist and two scientists in charge of documentation (Émile Gsell for photography and Louis Delaporte for sketches and plans of the temples). 20 Delaporte, Voyage au Cambodge, 96; Pierre Baptiste and Thierry Zéphir, Angkor, Naissance d’un Mythe, Louis Delaporte et Le Cambodge (Paris: MNAAG/RMN, 2013), 221. 21 Pierre Baptiste, “De la quête d’une collection à la naissance d’un musée,” in Angkor, ed. Pierre Baptiste and Thierry Zéphir, 115–23; Thierry Zéphir, “‘Angkor aux musées’: la sculpture khmère et les grandes collections publiques,” in Angkor, ed. Hugues Tertrais (Paris: Autrement, 2008), 51–72; Pierre Baptiste and Thierry Zéphir, “L’art khmer dans les collections nationales françaises”, in L’art khmer dans les collections du musée Guimet, ed. Pierre Baptiste and Thierry Zéphir (Paris: MNAAG/RMN, 2008), 11–8. 22 A gopura is a pavilion at the entrance to an Indic temple. 23 Inventory numbers: MG. 18096 and MG. 18097. See Pierre Baptiste and Thierry Zéphir, eds., L’art khmer dans les collections du musée Guimet (Paris: MNAAG/RMN, 2008). 24 The Mission archéologique permanente de l’Indochine was founded in 1898, and renamed École française d’Extrême-Orient in 1900. Its mission was to study and preserve the culture and heritage of territories placed under French colonial rule in Indochina. 25 Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 66. 26 After a first phase, when Khmer artefacts were sent to France, local museums were created in Indochina. In 1905, a museum was created in Phnom Penh, which became the Musée Albert Sarraut, initiated in 1917 by George Groslier and inaugurated in 1920. See Gabrielle Abbe, “Éléments pour l’histoire du musée Albert Sarraut de Phnom Penh,” Siksacakr, Journal of Cambodia Research, no. 12–13 (2010–11): 219–34. 27 Inventory number: K. 1666. 28 K. 932. 10

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29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39

40 41 42

43 44 45 46 47 48

49 50

51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59

K. 1868, K. 1871, K. 1870, K. 1869, K. 160. NMC. 149 and 150. K. 1737. K. 1664. Bali and Sugrib, also known as Valin and Sugriva, are characters from the ancient Hindu epic, the Ramayana. K. 1667. K. 1800. K. 949. K. 1807 and K. 1812. K. 916. K. 1817. K. 1662. Arjuna is one of the heroes of the Hindu epic, the Mahabharata. He is one of the five Pandava brothers, whose epic recounts the struggle with their cousins, the Kaurava. Arjuna is also a great warrior and an excellent archer. Part of the Mahabharata (the “Bhagavad-Gita”) tells his dialogue with Krishna (one of Vishnu’s avatars). K. 890. Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 66. Keiko Miura, “Destruction and plunder of Cambodian cultural heritage and their consequences,” in Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution, ed. Brigitta HauserSchäublin and Lyndel Prott (London and New York: Routledge, 2016), 28. See Miura, 29, for more details of the history of Koh Ker during this period. Recounted by one resident as part of Chea Socheat’s interviews in 2012. Miura, “Destruction and plunder of Cambodian cultural heritage and their consequences,” 30. Ibid., 29. 3–7 Apr. 2012. The report was written on 23 April 2012 in Khmer and French by Chea Socheat and translated from French by Susan Maingay in 2018. The interviews were photographed and audio-recorded. See also Miura, “Destruction and plunder of Cambodian cultural heritage and their consequences,” 23–44 for interviews with residents in Koh Ker in Aug. 2013. She showed photographs of ten statues taken by EFEO conservators between 1934 and 1954. Miura interviewed a 64-year-old woman who also remembered the statue of Ganesha at Prasak Bak (“Destruction and plunder of Cambodian cultural heritage and their consequences,” 28). Miura notes how a 75-year-old woman in 2013 identified the Garuda, Shiva and Uma from Prasat Thom (Ibid., 28). She also explains how one of the Khmer Rouge leaders took the Garuda statue from Prasat Thom, and how he had many more statues in his home (Ibid., 30). Masha Lafont, Pillaging Cambodia: The Illicit Traffic in Khmer Art (Jefferson: McFarland, 2004), 105. Ibid., 67. Miura, “Destruction and plunder of Cambodian cultural heritage and their consequences,” 27. Davis, “Returning Duryodhana,” 10. Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 66. Kong, “Cambodia: The Koh Ker Restitution Cases,” 18. Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 66–9. Kong, “Cambodia: The Koh Ker Restitution Cases,” 19–20. Davis, “Returning Duryodhana,” 16.

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Miura, “Destruction and plunder of Cambodian cultural heritage and their consequences,” 29. 61 Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 71. Miura too notes how a number of villagers she showed images to recognised statues from Adoration and Glory (“Destruction and plunder of Cambodian cultural heritage and their consequences,” 28). 62 See Alper Tasdelen, “Cambodia’s struggle to protect its movable cultural property and Thailand,” in Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution, ed. Brigitta HauserSchäublin and Lyndel Prott (London and New York: Routledge, 2016), 52. 63 Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 68. 64 Based on iconography, the report identified the statue as that of Duryodhana (its counterpart being Bhima), and indicated that the two sculptures from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Pandava brothers, came from the same site. See Éric Bourdonneau’s interview: https://chasingaphrodite.com/2014/04/10/ rebuilding-koh-ker-a-3d-reconstruction-restores-context-to-a-looted-khmertemple/. 65 It was to be sold on 24 Mar. 2011. See Davis, “Returning Duryodhana,” 14, and also https://chandrashekharasandprints.wordpress.com/2012/03/16/ wrestlers-of-koh-ker/. 66 Kong, “Cambodia: The Koh Ker Restitution Cases,” 19; Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 68. 67 Tom Mashberg, “Cambodia Presses U.S. Museums to Relinquish Antiquities,” The New York Times, 15 May 2013, 4. 68 Owned by Christie’s after 1975. 69 Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 71. 70 Davis, “Returning Duryodhana,” 14. 71 Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 72 and https:// chandrashekharasandprints.wordpress.com/2012/05/29/would-duryodhanaever-come-back-home/. 72 Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 73; Kong, “Cambodia: The Koh Ker Restitution Cases,” 20. 73 Mashberg, “Cambodia Presses U.S Museums,” 4. 74 Bunker and Latchford, Adoration and Glory, 149–51. It is described as a “Dvarapala”; Kong, “Cambodia: The Koh Ker Restitution Cases,” 18–9. 75 Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 73. 76 Kong, “Cambodia: The Koh Ker Restitution Cases,” 20. 77 Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 74. 78 Ibid. 79 Chandrashekhara, “Battle Royal of Koh Ker, now come the spectators”, 20 Aug. 2012, https://chandrashekharasandprints.wordpress.com/2012/08/20/ battle-royal-of-koh-ker-now-come-the-spectators/. 80 Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 68. 81 Ibid., 64–5. 82 Ibid., 64–5; Davis, “Returning Duryodhana,” 16. 83 Bunker and Latchford, Adoration and Glory, 154–5. Described as a “MonkeyHeaded Yaksha”. 84 Kong, “Cambodia: The Koh Ker Restitution Cases,” 21. 85 Ibid. In 2016 Weiner’s daughter, Nancy Weiner, was arrested by US authorities investigating illegal trafficking of South and Southeast Asian art undertaken by her mother and herself over many years through their New York gallery. 86 Bunker and Latchford, Adoration and Glory, 158–60.

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88 89 90

91

92 93

94 95 96 97

“Denver Art Museum Returns Khmer Sculpture Torso of Rama to Cambodia”, 26 Feb. 2016, https://denverartmuseum.org/article/press-release/ dam-returns-khmer-sculpture-torso-rama-cambodia. Emma Bunker, co-author of Adoration and Glory, is a former Board Member and Consultant to the Denver Museum. Tythacott and Arvanitis, eds., Museums and Restitution. Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 77. “Many pieces, even from Koh Ker, are certainly also in European and perhaps even, public – collections and have not yet been identified” (HauserSchäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 65). Nor can the possibility of materials being held in Asian collections – even collections in Southeast Asia – be excluded. Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin and Lyndel Prott, “Introduction: Changing concepts of ownership, culture and property,” in Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution, ed. Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin and Lyndel Prott (London and New York: Routledge, 2016), 6–7. Kong, “Cambodia: The Koh Ker Restitution Cases,” 20; Hauser-Schäublin, “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned,” 65. Davis, “Returning Duryodhana,” 16, and http://www.unesco.org/new/en/ culture/themes/illicit-trafficking-of-cultural-property/other-cases-of-returnor-restitution-of-cultural-objects/cambodia/. Leng Len, “Returned Artifacts Stir New Interest in Cambodia,” Antiquity, 13 April 2016, 2. https://denverartmuseum.org/sites/default/files/pr/Torso%20of%20 Rama%20return%20FINAL%2002-26-16.pdf. Kong, “Cambodia: The Koh Ker Restitution Cases,” 21. Ibid., 18.

References Abbe, Gabrielle. “Éléments pour l’histoire du musée Albert Sarraut de Phnom Penh.” Siksacakr, Journal of Cambodia Research, no. 12–13 (2010–11): 219–34. Baptiste, Pierre and Thierry Zéphir, eds. L’art khmer dans les collections du musée Guimet. Paris: MNAAG/RMN, 2008. ___. “L’art khmer dans les collections nationales françaises.” In L’art khmer dans les collections du musée Guimet, edited by Pierre Baptiste and Thierry Zéphir, 11–8. Paris: MNAAG/RMN, 2008. ___. Angkor, Naissance d’un Mythe, Louis Delaporte et Le Cambodge. Paris: MNAAG/RMN, 2013. Baptiste, Pierre. “De la quête d’une collection à la naissance d’un musée.” In Angkor, edited by Pierre Baptiste and Thierry Zéphir, 115–23. Paris: MNAAG/ RMN, 2013. Bourdonneau, Éric. “Nouvelles recherches sur Koh Ker (Chok Gargyar). Jayavarman IV et la maîtrise des mondes.” Monuments et mémoires de la Fondation Eugène Piot 90 (2011): 95–141. Bruguier, Bruno and Juliette Lacroix. Preah Khan, Koh Ker et Preah Vihear: les provinces septentrionales. Phnom Penh: Japan Printing House, 2013.

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Bunker, Emma C. and Douglas Latchford. Adoration and Glory: The Golden Age of Khmer Art. Chicago, IL: Art Media Resources, 2004. Chandrashekhara. “Battle Royal of Koh Ker, now come the spectators.” 20 Aug. 2012. https://chandrashekharasandprints.wordpress.com/2012/08/20/ battle-royal-of-koh-ker-now-come-the-spectators/. Choulean, Ang, Ashley Thompson, and Eric Prenowitz. Angkor, a Manual for the Past, Present and the Future. Phnom Penh: APSARA, 1996. Davis, Tess. “Returning Duryodhana.” Bostonia, Summer 2014. http://www. bu.edu/bostonia/summer14/cambodia/. Delaporte, Louis. Voyage au Cambodge. Paris: Delagrave, 1880. “Denver Art Museum Returns Khmer Sculpture Torso of Rama to Cambodia”, 26 Feb. 2016. https://denverartmuseum.org/article/press-release/dam-returnskhmer-sculpture-torso-rama-cambodia. Greenfield, Jeanette. The Return of Cultural Treasures. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. Hauser-Schäublin, Brigitta and Lyndel Prott. “Introduction: Changing concepts of ownership, culture and property.” In Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution, edited by Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin and Lyndel Prott, 1–20. London and New York: Routledge, 2016. Hauser-Schäublin, Brigitta. “Looted, trafficked, donated and returned: the twisted tracks of Cambodian antiquities.” In Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution, edited by Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin and Lyndel Prott, 64–81. London and New York: Routledge, 2016. https://chasingaphrodite.com/2014/04/10/rebuilding-koh-ker-a-3dreconstruction-restores-context-to-a-looted-khmer-temple/. https://www.efeo.fr/base.php?code=808. Jacques, Claude and Philippe Lafond. The Khmer Empire: Cities and Sanctuaries, Fifth to the Thirteenth Centuries. Bangkok: River Books, 2007. Kong, Vireak. “Cambodia: The Koh Ker Restitution Cases.” In World Heritage, no. 87 (Apr. 2018): 17–21. Lafont, Masha. Pillaging Cambodia: The Illicit Traffic in Khmer Art. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2004. Leng, Len. “Returned Artifacts Stir New Interest in Cambodia.” Antiquity, 13 Apr. 2016. https://www.voacambodia.com/a/returned-artifacts-stir-newinterest-in-cambodian-antiquity/3283937.html. Mashberg, Tom. “Cambodia Presses U.S. Museums to Relinquish Antiquities.” The New York Times, 15 May 2013. http://www.nytimes.com/2013/05/16/ arts/design/cambodia-presses-us-museums-to-return-antiquities.html. Miura, Keiko. “Destruction and plunder of Cambodian cultural heritage and their consequences.” In Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution, edited by Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin and Lyndel Prott, 23–44. London and New York: Routledge, 2016. Simpson, Moira G. Museums and repatriation: an account of contested items in museum collections. London: Museums Association, 1997.

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Tasdelen, Alper. “Cambodia’s struggle to protect its movable cultural property and Thailand.” In Cultural Property and Contested Ownership: The Trafficking of Artefacts and the Quest for Restitution, edited by Brigitta Hauser-Schäublin and Lyndel Prott, 45–63. London and New York: Routledge, 2016. Tythacott, Louise and Kostas Arvanitis, eds. Museums and Restitution: New Practices, New Approaches. Farnham: Ashgate, 2014. UNESCO, “Return of six of the nine statues looted from Cambodia.” http://www. unesco.org/new/en/culture/themes/illicit-trafficking-of-cultural-property/othercases-of-return-or-restitution-of-cultural-objects/cambodia/. Zéphir, Thierry. “‘Angkor aux musées’: la sculpture khmère et les grandes collections publiques.” In Angkor, VIIIe-XXIe siècle, edited by Hugues Tertrais, 51–72. Paris: Autrement, 2008.

Chapter 4

WHO OWNS BAN CHIANG? THE DISCOVERY, COLLECTION AND REPATRIATION OF BAN CHIANG ARTEFACTS Melody Rod-ari

Much has been written about who should “own” the past and specifically about the objects and artefacts that document antiquity. Scholars and professionals such as John Henry Merryman (1985), Kate Fitz-Gibbon (2005), Richard H. Davis (1997), James Cuno (2008) and many others have examined the cultural policies and laws that have been enacted to protect cultural property and to try to determine who has the authority to act as stewards of the past. Scholarship tends to be focussed on sculptures taken from monuments not intended to be circulated, such as those from the Parthenon in Greece, or objects of significant cultural or ritual value, such as the Shiva Nataraja from Shivapuram, India.1 This chapter will, instead, focus on ceramic vessels and small metal tools and jewellery from the village turned archaeological site of Ban Chiang in north-eastern Thailand (see Fig. 4.1). While these items were not a part of an architectural programme, nor do they have the same prestige as royal or religiously sponsored fine art, artefacts from Ban Chiang have significant historical and symbolic value, especially to a modern nation-state like Thailand. The artefacts associated with Ban Chiang suggest that it is one of the earliest Southeast Asian civilisations to develop wet rice cultivation and the manufacture of metal tools (see Fig. 4.2). Ownership and control of Ban Chiang artefacts and their narrative, therefore, allow Thais to create a lineage to antiquity, which situates the nation as one of the earliest and most advanced societies in the region. The following pages will examine the “discovery” of Ban Chiang by Stephen Young in 1966, the subsequent collecting of ceramic vessels and metal objects by local and international collectors and their eventual acquisition into the collections of major American museums.2 The chapter will also examine the 2008 US federal raids on five California institutions – the Bowers Museum of Art, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA), the Mingei International Museum, the

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Fig. 4.1 Excavation site at Ban Chiang in 1975, Institute for Southeast Asian Archaeology. Courtesy of the Penn Museum, image BCES B51. Fig. 4.2 Adze, Thailand, Late Ban Chiang, 300 bce–150 ce, Copper alloy, 8 1/4 x 6 1/4 x 1 1/4 in. (21 x 15.9 x 3.2 cm), Gift of Jon and Cari Markell, LACMA M.2002.121.1. Photo © Museum Associates / LACMA.

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University of Southern California, Pacific Asia Museum (USC PAM) and the University of California Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive (BAMPFA) – whose collections include Ban Chiang artefacts, some of which have since been returned to Thailand.3 Additionally, the chapter will consider the legal implications for local and international museums and collectors, as investigators who led the raids have argued that virtually all Ban Chiang materials in the United States should be considered stolen property owing to the Thai Act on Ancient Monuments, Antiques, Objects of Art and National Museums passed by HM King Bhumibol Adulyadej in 1961 in conjunction with American laws, such as the National Stolen Property Act of 1948 and the Archaeological Resources Protection Act of 1979. The 1961 Thai Act states that archaeological materials become the property of the state and prohibits the unsanctioned sale and export of antiquities and objects of art from Thailand.4 At present, most of the Ban Chiang artefacts from the 2008 raids remain in California in a state of “constructive custody,” which stipulates that they are to continue to reside in their museums until official written permission for their removal is given by US authorities.5 Although the objects continue to reside in California, visitors to the museums are unable to view them as they are no longer on public display. This chapter will argue that the universal treatment of Ban Chiang artefacts as stolen property and the call for their repatriation is not entirely constructive, and has the possibility of

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retarding the continued study and understanding of prehistoric Southeast Asian history and culture in the US specifically, and other parts of the world, including Thailand more generally, as research and practical training benefits from international collaboration. THE DISCOVERY OF BAN CHIANG Ban Chiang is a village and architectural site in Udon Thani province in Thailand. It consists of some 300 sites, which make up a mound that is roughly one kilometre long and a half-kilometre wide.6 The discovery of Ban Chiang’s archaeological heritage has often been credited to Stephen Young. However, knowledge of the material culture associated with this prehistoric site was previously known to local villagers living there. Pisit Charoenwongsa, then co-director of the Ban Chiang Project along with Chester Gorman, noted that local villagers had knowledge of the prehistoric artefacts since 1957.7 In 1960, it was listed as an archaeological site by the Thai Fine Arts Department.8 It was, however, the confluence of Young’s “discovery” and his connections to the cultural and political elites of Thailand that led to the formal study and excavation of Ban Chiang. In 1966, Stephen Young – the son of Kenneth Todd Young Jr. who was appointed Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to Thailand from 1961–63 and later served as the President of the US-based Asia Society from 1964–69 – was staying in the village of Ban Chiang to conduct interviews for his senior thesis on village politics in north-eastern Thailand at Harvard College where he was studying anthropology and government.9 According to his own assessment, while walking down a road in Ban Chiang, he tripped on a tree root and fell over, landing near a semi-buried ceramic vessel.10 Recognising that the object was an ancient artefact, and seeing that other similar objects were buried close by, he brought ceramic samples with him to Bangkok where he was staying with Princess Chumbhot of Nakhon Sawan.11 The princess was a collector of art as well as the proprietor of the Suan Pakkard Museum, which today houses one of the most important collections of Ban Chiang period ceramics and metal objects.12 Princess Chumbhot made Young’s discovery known to the Thai Fine Arts Department who began excavations in 1967, as well as to the art historian Elizabeth Lyons who was with the Ford Foundation in Bangkok at the time.13 Lyons, who formerly served as a Fine Arts Consultant to Thailand for two years under the US State Specialist Program from 1955–57, understood the importance of Young’s find, having knowledge of recent discoveries at Ban Kao and Non Nok Tha and the work of archaeologists such as Wilhelm G. Solheim II and Gorman, who argued for Southeast Asia’s prominence in the prehistoric world.14

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When preliminary excavations began by the Thai Fine Arts Department in 1967, Lyons helped to arrange for ceramic sherds from the digs to be sent to the University of Pennsylvania for thermoluminescence (TL) testing.15 TL testing was still in its early stages of development and results of the tests from the Museum Applied Science Center for Archaeology (MASCA) at the Penn Museum were not made until 1970, owing to previous committed projects and refinement of the technology at the university.16 The results of the TL testing brought back startling numbers, dating the Ban Chiang ceramic samples to 5,000–3,000 bce.17 THE SIGNIFICANCE OF BAN CHIANG The dating of the samples to 5,000–3,000 bce was astonishing because if they were accurate, as many scholars, specialists and interested parties believed at the time, it implied that Ban Chiang was the site of the earliest wet-rice cultivation and Bronze Age in the world. The dates soon spread to the public and came to be associated with any artefact discovered at Ban Chiang regardless of the medium of the object or its stratigraphic location within the archaeological site. What the test and its results effectively accomplished was the reorientation of long-conceived ideas that Southeast Asia owed much of its technological and cultural development to outside influence; principally, interactions with the early Chinese. Newspapers such as The New York Times presented stories of Ban Chiang as a new centre for the Bronze Age and that the discoveries at Ban Chiang predated bronze technology from the Middle East by 600 years and India and China by some 2,500 years.18 As written by John N. Wilford for The New York Times: At the time of the early Ban Chiang culture, around 3,600 BC the people of India and China were still in a late Stone Age, the people in the middle-east may have just been emerging from the Copper Age, and the people of Peru and Mexico were still primitive farmers, according to Dr Rainey [Director of University Museum at the University of Pennsylvania].19

Later excavations directed by Gorman (University of Pennsylvania) and Pisit Charoenwongsa (Thai Fine Arts Department) beginning in 1974 led to the scientific unearthing of much more material, which could be tested by both TL and carbon-14. New dates associated with Ban Chiang were revised to much later, with the earliest suggested manufacture of bronze beginning in 2,000–1,000 bce.20 This new dating, however, did not, and has not, changed the importance of Ban Chiang to those involved and affected by the site’s discovery (see Fig. 4.3).

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LOOTING AND COLLECTING OF BAN CHIANG News of the importance of Ban Chiang circulated widely among local villagers and politicians as well as art collectors and dealers, both locally and internationally. Unsurprisingly, everyone wanted a piece of Ban Chiang. Local villagers began subsistence looting and selling artefacts to whomever was interested in purchasing them. Extensive looting did not begin at the sites until the publication and news of the 1970 TL test dates. It is reported that collectors and dealers in Bangkok began making organised trips to Ban Chiang. Among the most ardent collector was Princess Chumbhot who is said to have contracted local villagers to dig and sell objects to her and her associates directly.21 One can see many of these objects today at the Suan Pakkard Museum in Bangkok. Many have argued that Princess Chumbhot made the

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Fig. 4.3 Exhibit at Ban Chiang National Museum, Udon Thani, Thailand. Photograph by Dr Nicolas Revire.

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Fig. 4.4 Jar with spirals, Thailand, Late Ban Chiang, 300 bce–200 ce, Earthenware, Height: 8 5/16 in. (21.11 cm), Diameter: 7 7/8 in. (20 cm), Gift of Ambassador and Mrs. Edward E. Masters, LACMA, M.84.213.2. Photo © Museum Associates / LACMA.

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collecting of Ban Chiang artefacts fashionable, resulting in the extensive looting of the site. By 1972 much of the sites – sitting below a living village – had been dug up and artefacts interred were offered for sale. Such unmitigated destruction led to a law passed by the National Executive Council in 1972, which prohibited the sale, purchase or transport of Ban Chiang artefacts.22 In addition to the passing of this law, HM King Bhumibol Adulyadej sponsored a small excavation, which was intended to curtail the looting, sale and purchase of Ban Chiang artefacts. By the time excavation began by the royal team and the Thai Fine Arts Department/University of Pennsylvania team, much of the upper layers had been dug-up by villagers. Consequently, the royal excavation team conducted work under temple grounds, which had been left untouched owing to their sacredness, and the Thai Fine Arts Department/University of Pennsylvania team began work under an existing road which had been untouched by looting.23 According to Gorman, by 1975, he was unable to locate any area in the village that had not been looted.24 The looting of the area and the sale of Ban Chiang materials continued and even spawned a market of fakes, which were sold and purchased – knowingly and unknowingly – as genuine artefacts. The manufacture of pottery by enterprising villagers for sale, particularly vessels painted with spiral designs favoured by collectors, consequently led to their disproportionate representation in museum collections so that pottery came to represent prehistoric Southeast Asia abroad. Today, Ban Chiang artefacts can be found in museums in Thailand and throughout the world such as in the Asian Civilisations Museum in Singapore, the British Museum in London and the National Gallery of Australia in Canberra.25 The largest concentration of publicly known Ban Chiang artefacts outside Thailand is found in American museums (see Fig. 4.4). This is owing to the American presence in Thailand in the 1960s–70s during the Vietnam War when the USA had several satellite Air Force bases in the country. One of these was in Udon Thani province where Ban Chiang is located. The same excitement that led Thai elites to collect Ban Chiang artefacts had spread to American officers and officials in Udon Thani. As Lyons has documented in her interview with Expeditions in 1982, Princess Chumbhot began collecting Ban Chiang objects for the Suan Pakkard Museum with the idea of saving them from American officers who had begun collecting them as souvenirs.26 She quoted Princess Chumbhot to the effect that the objects would be removed from the country before the Fine Arts Department could take any action.27 Sceptical of Princess Chumbhot’s claims, Lyons inspected the situation for herself:

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I didn’t really think an old clay pot was a G.I.’s idea of a souvenir, but I went with her [Princess Chumbhot] to see for myself. She was right. The whole village acted like Bargain Day at Gimbels. Some houses had the merchandise set up on tables beside the house, or on the ladder-like steps. Fresh pits under and around every house showed where the stock had come from, and here and there were clusters of Thai and American soldiers bargaining and buying.28

Many of the donated Ban Chiang artefacts in American museums have come from individuals or family members of American officers and officials who likely purchased or were gifted the objects during their time in Thailand.29 The largest concentration of such donations – according to publicly available records – is found in Southern California museums. It was also in this region of the USA that prominent dealers of Ban Chiang artefacts, such as Robert E. Olson and Jonathan and Cari Markell, conducted their business. The following pages will discuss the raids of five California museums that had in their collections Ban Chiang materials associated with the Markells and with Olson. 2008 RAIDS In the early morning of 24 January 2008, federal agents served search warrants to directors and curators of the Bowers Museum of Art, the LACMA, the Mingei International Museum, and the USC PAM as well as two art dealers, Markell – who owned the Silk Roads Gallery, formerly in Los Angeles – and Olson – owner of Bobby O Imports – among others. Search warrants sought to examine the museums’ collections and files associated with Markell and Olson who dealt in Ban Chiang artefacts. Inclusion of the BAMPFA in the investigation followed these initial search warrants. While museums and the public learned of the investigations in 2008, investigations by three separate American federal agencies – the National Park Service, the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) and Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) – began five years earlier in April 2003.30 The investigation was justified by evidence collected by special National Park Service agent Todd Swain who went undercover as the collector Thomas Hoyt, the purported owner of a geographic information systems firm.31 According to affidavits, Hoyt/Swain was introduced to Olson by Robert Perez, a dealer in pre-Hispanic archaeological materials. As reported by Jason Felch, then of the Los Angeles Times, Hoyt/Swain presented himself as an eager collector to Olson who sold him artefacts, arranged for inflated appraisals and introduced him to dealers and museum curators.32 As Hoyt, agent Swain sought to purchase antiquities in order to donate them to museums to be

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used as tax deductions. In the summer of 2006, I was working in the department of South and Southeast Asian Art at LACMA as the Yvonne and Harry Lenart Graduate Intern and met with both Olson and Hoyt/ Swain who wanted to see if the museum was interested in donations of Ban Chiang and other prehistoric Thai materials. Hoyt/Swain had explained that he was eager to make a donation before tax season. I was instructed by the curatorial staff at the museum that the department was not interested in donations at this time and conveyed this information to both men. Although LACMA did not accept any donations from Hoyt/ Swain, four other institutions – the Bowers Museum, the Mingei International Museum, the USC PAM and the BAMPFA – did accept his gifts between 2003 and 2007.33 The investigation sought to curtail two separate but related offences: the trafficking of illicit materials and tax evasion, which explains the co-ordination between the IRS, the ICE and the National Park Association. Affidavits lodged with the US Central District of California Court state that investigators had cause to believe that Markell and Olson had been illegally dealing in archaeological materials from Southeast Asia and that both had committed tax fraud by inflating values of objects donated to museums. Moreover, the affidavits claimed that the museums enabled a conspiracy to prepare false tax returns.34 In the over 150 pages of text that made up the affidavits, some museum officials are quoted as saying that they were aware the Ban Chiang artefacts may not have been legally acquired nor have adequate documentation regarding their provenance to warrant their acceptance into museum collections; these same officials later accepted gifts from Hoyt/Swain.35 Also included in the affidavits was damaging information regarding the business of illegally exporting Ban Chiang artefacts by Markell and Olson in which they described purchasing objects from smugglers and looters, and sometimes transporting them into the USA themselves. Once in the USA, they were sold to collectors for one price and then given a much higher appraised value. It was this appraised value given to museums, which could then be used as taxdeductible charitable gifts for the donor. For example, in June of 2006, Hoyt/Swain purchased an item at the cost of $1,500 from Markell, the same object was later appraised by Markell for $4,990 and donated to the Mingei International Museum.36 In addition to the objects themselves and their appraisals, museums were also given information regarding the objects’ authenticity. As neither Markell nor Olson were specialists in Southeast Asian ceramics, Markell included in his sales appraisals by Dr Roxanna Brown, a renowned scholar of Southeast Asian ceramics and then director of the Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum at Bangkok University in Thailand.37 Both Markell

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and Olson knew Brown personally and hosted her during trips to Southern California. In a three-part series entitled “A Passion for Art, a Perilous Pursuit,” Los Angeles Times focussed on the career of Brown, which reports that the January 2008 affidavits portrayed her as a victim of Markell who used a digital copy of her signature without her knowledge. After the search warrants were issued, seized information from Markell and Olson acquired by July of the same year indicated that Brown was reimbursed by both men for supplying antiquities and for providing blank signed appraisal forms.38 On 9 May 2008, Brown was arrested in Seattle, while there to give an academic lecture at the University of Washington, and was indicted by a Los Angeles grand jury of wire fraud for allowing Markell to use her signature for inflated appraisals.39 Although she was not among the principal individuals that led to the investigation – she was actually among those who acted as an informant – Brown was the first to be indicted. Five days later, Brown died of health complications in a Seattle jail. After her death, the single charge made against her was dropped. A month later, Markell and Olson were indicted for “Conspiracy” and “False Statements Regarding Entry of Goods” in United States of America vs. Jonathan M. Markell and Robert E. Olson.40 This indictment focussed on objects from Myanmar and Cambodia. Later indictments in 2010 and in 2012 made formal complaints against Markell’s and Olson’s dealings in Ban Chiang artefacts.41 In 2015, Jonathan Markell was sentenced to 18 months in prison for false declarations while importing antiquities from Southeast Asia, and both he and his wife were sentenced to probation for tax evasion as well as paying monetary fines to off-set costs related to seized material from their commercial gallery.42 As of the writing of this chapter, Olson has yet to appear on trial, and no museum officials have been indicted. PARTIAL RETURNS The slow pace of the investigation and actions since the raids has been frustrating for all parties. To date, the Bowers Museum and the Mingei International Museum are the only institutions to have returned objects to Thailand. Museums involved in the raids complied with the search warrants, and some of the museums, such as the Bowers Museum, made public declarations of interest and intent to return Ban Chiang materials to Thailand early on. Many factors have delayed investigations, including the oft neglected fact that the Thai government did not and has not actively requested the return of the Ban Chiang artefacts. The investigations began and continue to be led by US federal agencies. Biravej Suwanpradhes, Deputy Director-General of the Thai governmental Department of Information, asserted the following: “The

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Royal Thai Consulate General in Los Angeles [was] informed [in 2009 by] the Cultural Relations Division of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the US Government’s request that Thailand’s Fine Arts Department sent [sic] experts to inspect and screen the artefacts at the Bowers Museum.”43 Biravej Suwanpradhes, along with curators and senior scientists from the Thai Fine Arts Department, travelled to Santa Ana to examine the Bowers Museum’s collection. Again, Biravej Suwanpradhes states: “During the three days of investigation, experts from both countries worked hard to identify a very large number of artefacts.”44 The goal of the three-day investigation was to identify if the objects in the Bowers collection had come from Thailand. On 24 August 2014, the Bowers Museum transferred over five hundred artefacts to Thailand in exchange for a non-prosecution agreement, ensuring that museum staff would not be indicted of criminal charges.45 In 2015, the US Attorney’s Office in Los Angeles directed the Mingei International Museum to return their Ban Chiang holdings. One year later, the museum quietly returned 83 objects to Thailand.46 Once returned, the artefacts from the Bowers Museum were examined by archaeologists and specialists within the Thai Fine Arts Department who went through the painstaking process of cataloguing the objects, many of which were determined to be modern copies.47 Exemplary artefacts were later put on display for international and local media outlets at a formal ceremony at the National Museum in Bangkok on 19 November 2014. The ceremony provided both the US and Thai governments the opportunity to demonstrate their united commitment against looting and acknowledge the importance of cultural property to national identity.48 In February the following year, a special exhibition featuring the repatriated materials was organised and put on display at the National Museum. The Mingei International Museum’s return of artefacts was far less promoted in the media than that of the Bowers Museum, likely reflecting the relatively small number of returns. However, it did allow for the occasion of repatriated objects to be included in the exhibition “Early Man of Our Land,” which was on display from 30 June–21 August 2016 at the National Museum. The restitution of these materials to Thailand, and their continued circulation in the public realm, is significant for a variety of reasons. First and foremost, the return of cultural property that has clearly been looted or unlawfully acquired acknowledges the historical and economic challenges that source countries, such as those in Southeast Asia, have in protecting and securing their cultural patrimony. Second, the recirculation of repatriated items in the public sphere, such as those now at the National Museum, helps to reanimate the histories of the objects, both their ancient and more recent pasts. For example, the special exhibitions of

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the recently returned Ban Chiang materials reminded visitors of the importance of this pre-historic culture not only to Thai history but also to the region, as well as its importance in contemporary global scholarship and politics. In this way, the return of objects from the Bowers Museum’s and the Mingei International Museum’s collections to Thailand represents an ideal outcome of such repatriation cases. WHO OWNS BAN CHIANG? While the Bowers Museum and the Mingei International Museum no longer have any Ban Chiang artefacts in their collections, visitors to the LACMA, the USC PAM and the BAMPFA could easily walk away from their visits with the impression that no such collection similarly exists at these institutions. Since 2008, Ban Chiang artefacts that were prominently displayed in galleries have been put into storage and in some cases even their digital existence in the museum has been concealed. The invisibility of Ban Chiang material – often the only pre-historic Southeast Asian material at these museums – is detrimental to public understanding not only of Southeast Asian art history and culture, but also broader human history. It may be hyperbole to suggest that the removal of Ban Chiang artefacts to storage vaults at these institutions is equivalent to the period before their discovery in the 1960s when Southeast Asia was considered a cultural backwater. However, the lack of educational material available on prehistoric Southeast Asia for the broader public might argue for otherwise. Even in higher education, few universities in the USA and Europe have specialists that work or lecture on prehistoric Southeast Asia let alone Ban Chiang. These museums may not have deliberately put their Ban Chiang collections into storage in order to conceal their involvement with the raids; rather, investigations are still ongoing and the artefacts themselves are in a state of legal limbo. As previously mentioned, Ban Chiang materials as well as other objects associated with Markell and Olson are in a state of “constructive custody,” which means that if the US government decides they should be removed from the museums, the museums will be legally required to comply. It has been over a decade since the raids and while it may be the desire of investigators and federal agencies to resolve and return the objects quickly, the process of repatriating cultural property is complicated especially when the source country is not the original claimant. As demonstrated by the Bowers Museum’s return, officials from Thailand were required to be flown out to examine the collection and determine its place of origin. Once the objects were determined to be from Thailand, they were de-accessioned from the collection, and then packed and

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shipped to Bangkok. The cost of such research and transportation often falls on the repatriating country. In total, it took the Bowers Museum roughly five years to complete the repatriation of the artefacts to Thailand. While the other museums wait to hear about the fate of their collections, bigger legal and ethical questions still loom such as: should all Ban Chiang artefacts in the USA – minus those acquired through partage, accompanied with proper permits, or gifts by the Thai government – be considered stolen property?49 What should happen to Ban Chiang collections in and outside of Thailand? As noted by archaeologists working at Ban Chiang in the 1970s, much of Ban Chiang had been looted by the time their excavations had begun. It was these looted objects that became part of Thai and international museum collections. If one only looks at the 1961 Thai Act, it clearly states that objects from archaeological sites are the property of the state and that ownership of such objects and their removal from Thailand is prohibited without a proper licence obtained from the Director-General of the Thai Fine Arts Department.50 It is unlikely that many of the Ban Chiang materials now housed in American museums, and perhaps even those in Thai collections, have, as part of their provenance, such a licence, proving their legality; this may be a factor as to why the Thai government has not actively pursued Ban Chiang artefacts. Another reason may be the questionable authenticity of some of the objects in museum collections. If one accepts this legislation in isolation, what should museums with Ban Chiang artefacts do with their collections? It seems counterintuitive to repatriate all Ban Chiang collections from non-Thai government collectors and institutions as a preventative measure against looting, which is among one of the major goals of cultural property laws, as much of Ban Chiang was looted by the early 1970s. Moreover, Thai officials have not actively sought the return of Ban Chiang material whereas they have sought the return of architecturally and artistically significant objects in the past, such as the Prasat Phanom Rung lintel, which was repatriated from the Art Institute of Chicago in 1988. More recently, Thailand is seeking the return of a cache of bronze statuary thought to be from from Prasat Hin Khao Plai Bat II discovered in the 1960s that are now housed in American and European museums (see Phanomvan, chapter 10). While remaining sensitive to the continued and rampant looting of cultural heritage that still takes place today, perhaps in thinking about these questions, we can return to the early days of the discovery of Ban Chiang. Scholars and non-scholars all over the world were excited and enthusiastic to learn about this important prehistoric site and those participating in its excavations were eager to make their discoveries known. Similarly, Thais were also and continue to be very proud of their links to a civilisation that was the first to develop wet rice cultivation

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and the manufacture of metal tools in the region. It was the artefacts found at Ban Chiang that brought such realisations to light as well as excitement of Southeast Asia’s prominence in world history, and it continues to be the artefacts that serve as cultural ambassadors of Thailand for those who are not able to travel there. When Ban Chiang artefacts are on display at museums, both in Thailand and abroad, it makes visual for people an ancient past that would otherwise be invisible. As described in 1982 by Deborah Wong, now Professor of Ethnomusicology at the University of California, Riverside, who was a work-study student at the University of Pennsylvania and who helped to document some of the 18 tons of archaeological materials that were deposited at the university after excavations: Whenever I found something new in a pot, I began to ask myself: why did the potter do it this way? And as the pots brought me closer to the minds of the people who made them, I began to realize that culture must be a remarkable thing if it guides even the hands of a potter. The pots were simply a complex set of clues towards understanding a complex group of human beings.51

In correspondence with Wong, I asked her if the experience of working with Ban Chiang artefacts during this exciting time influenced her decision to focus on Thailand in her doctoral and scholarly research. Her reply: Yes, absolutely. Chet [Gorman] was central to that. One afternoon I was putting pots together and asking Chet question after question about the people who made them, e.g., were they probably women, were they professionals or did many people have pottery skills, whether he thought some of the pots might have been made by some of the same individuals, etc. He knew I was an archaeology major, and it was clear he was enjoying the conversation as much as I was, but he suddenly said, “You know, cultural anthropologists address the kinds of things you’re asking about – you should take some courses in anthro.” I did, and I liked those courses so much that I changed majors – and continued to work in the Ban Chiang lab.52

Wong went on to explain that while studying anthropology as an undergraduate, she learned about ethnomusicology and eventually went to the University of Michigan in order to pursue her doctorate in ethnomusicology with a focus on Thailand. Wong’s many publications include Sounding the Center: History and Aesthetics in Thai Buddhist

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Performance, which has become a seminal text in her field.53 Wong’s experience of pursuing Thai studies from having a meaningful encounter with Thai artefacts and an important mentor is not unique. My own pursuit of the study of Buddhist art in Thailand came from a similar experience. Many nations, including Thailand, understand the important role that art plays as a form of soft diplomacy. The first major travelling museum exhibition to the USA, co-sponsored by the Thai government, took place between 1960 and 1962 when national treasures from the Dvaravati periods through to the 19th century travelled to Indiana University, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, the LACMA, the Seattle Art Museum, the California Palace of the Legion of Honor and the Honolulu Academy of Arts as well as venues in Europe and Japan. Since then, major exhibitions of Thai art have been staged with the support of the government, including the Discovery of a Lost Bronze Age: Ban Chiang, which first opened in 1982 at the Penn Museum, and more recently The Kingdom of Siam: Art of Central Thailand, 1350–1800, which was first exhibited at the Asian Art Museum in San Francisco in 2005. The absence of public acknowledgement of holdings of Ban Chiang artefacts outside of Thailand, and outside of government-sponsored museums in Thailand, reduces collective understandings of prehistoric Southeast Asia, and of the destructive processes by which the bulk of the materials came into international circulation; thus, diminishing their historical value significantly in the absence of archaeological study in situ. This absence, moreover, has the potential to stifle entire fields of study, which rely on new students who are eager to learn and discover more about the ancient past. While a picture may be “worth a thousand words,” the value of experiencing the past through an artefact may be even more significant. As evidence, museum attendance continues to rise even though collections become digitised and platforms such as Google Arts and Culture make it easier to view images of art objects online. This is true for museums such as the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which became early partners with Google in 2011 when the project began.54 According to the annual museum attendance survey published by The Art Newspaper, attendance at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 2012 (a year after partnership with Google) was 6.1 million visitors and has since increased in 2019 to nearly 6.5 million visitors.55 Scholars, students and the general public benefit from exposure to actual objects and to continued collaboration between museums, universities and governments. The disappearance of Ban Chiang artefacts from broad public view is a loss to the public and to the long-term study of prehistoric Southeast Asia and the protection of its material culture. It is unclear if investigators who

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directed the 2008 raids considered such issues, but the legal results will continue to define “Who Owns Ban Chiang?” MOVING FORWARD The fate of remaining materials in the California institutions discussed is still unknown; however, if the outcome of the Bowers Museum and the Mingei International Museum is any indication, it will be the US government who ultimately decides when and what will be returned to Thailand. In thinking of an alternative to repatriation, one may consider the sanctioned sale of select works of art described in Gabrielle Abbe’s chapter in this volume, “The Selling of Khmer Artefacts during the Colonial Era: Questioning the Perception of Khmer Heritage through a Study of Traded Khmer Art Pieces (1920s–1940s)”, whereby the government, albeit colonial, sold redundant or fragmentary works of art to both private and public collections. Among one of its aims was to curtail the looting and trafficking of Khmer art, though Abbe clearly demonstrates significant deviation from this stated goal. Authorised sales of art by the Thai government would allow for the legal transfer of certain types of objects deemed appropriate for sale such as pottery, which is mass produced and therefore found in greater abundance. While this system proved to be imperfectly implemented in Cambodia in the early 20th century, with greater oversight and clear categories defining cultural property and identifying national treasures, as demonstrated in Japan’s Law on the Protection of Cultural Properties, it is possible to imagine an alternative to art repatriation in the case of Ban Chiang artefacts, and perhaps to other works of art from Thailand.56

Notes 1

2

See John Henry Merryman, “Thinking About the Elgin Marbles,” Michigan Law Review 83, no. 8 (Aug. 1985): 1800–923; Richard H. Davis, Lives of Indian Images (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1997); Kate Fitz-Gibbon, Who Owns the Past? Cultural Policy, Cultural Property, and the Law (New Brunswick, New Jersey and London: Rutgers University Press and the American Council for Cultural Policy, 2005); James Cuno, Who Owns Antiquity? Museums and the Battle Over Our Ancient Heritage (New Jersey and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2008). Major American museums that have in their collections or have collected Ban Chiang artefacts include the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, the University of Pennsylvania Museum, Cleveland Museum of Art, the Freer and Sackler Galleries, the Minnesota Institute of Arts, the Asian Art Museum in San Francisco, Norton Simon

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Museum, LACMA, USC PAM, BAMPFA, Mingei International Museum and the Bowers Museum of Art. This list was compiled by reviewing the online collections of various American institutions. 3 At the time of the raids, the Pacific Asia Museum had functioned as an independent institution. In 2013, the museum joined in partnership with the University of Southern California. In addition to the raids on these five museums, search warrants were also issued to the dealers Robert Olson and Jonathan Markell as well as to the private museum of Barry MacLean in Chicago, among others. 4 Act on Ancient Monuments, Antiques, Objects of Art and National Museums, 2 Aug. 2504 be or 1961 ce, Thailand. 5 Jason Felch, “Victory for Thailand in the US,” The Art Newspaper Issue 258 (June 2014): front page. 6 Chester Gorman, “A Case History: Ban Chiang,” Art Research News 1, no. 2 (1981): 1. 7 Pisit Charoenwongsa, “Ban Chiang in Retrospect: What the Expedition Means to the Archaeologists and the Thai Public,” Expedition 24, issue 4 (1982): 13. 8 Gorman, “A Case History,” 10. 9 Stephen Young, The Theory and Practice of Associative Power: CORDS in the Villages of Vietnam 1967–1972 (Rowman & Littlefield, 2007), 365. 10 Ibid., Joyce C. White, “The Ban Chiang Tradition: Artists and Innovators in Prehistoric Northeast Thailand,” Discovery of a Lost Bronze Age: Ban Chiang, ed. Joyce. C. White (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1982), 15. 11 White, “The Ban Chiang Tradition,” 15. 12 The Suan Pakkard Museum was once the private residence of the princess and her husband, Prince Chumbhot of Nakhon Sawan. They turned their property into a public museum in 1952. 13 White, “The Ban Chiang Tradition,” 15; Elizabeth Lyons and Froelich Rainey, “The Road to Ban Chiang: A Dialogue of Events Leading to The University Museum’s Participation in the Expedition,” Expedition 24, issue 4 (1982): 5–6; Gorman, “A Case History,” 10. 14 Lyons and Rainey, “The Road to Ban Chiang,” 5; Wilhelm G. Solheim II, “Early Man in Southeast Asia,” Expedition 14, issue 3 (1972): 25–6. 15 Gorman, “A Case History,” 10. 16 Lyons and Rainey, “The Road to Ban Chiang,” 6. 17 Ibid. 18 John Noble Wilford, “New Bronze Age Date Reported,” The New York Times, May 1976. 19 Wilford, “New Bronze Age Date Reported.” 20 Joyce White argues for a 2,000 bce dating while Charles Higham argues for a date of 1,000 bce. Furthermore, Higham has argued that bronze technology was introduced into Southeast Asia by the early Chinese. See Charles Higham, et al., “The Origins of the Bronze Age of Southeast Asia,” Journal of World Prehistory 24, no. 4 (Dec. 2011): 227–74; Joyce C. White and Elizabeth G. Hamilton, “The Transmission of Early Bronze Technology to Thailand: New Perspectives,” Journal of World Prehistory 22, no. 4 (Dec. 2009): 357–97. 21 Gorman, “A Case History,” 12. 22 Joyce, “The Ban Chiang Tradition,” 16. 23 Gorman, “A Case History,” 12. 24 Ibid.

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25

Although this chapter focuses on Ban Chiang artefacts found in large public museums, similar materials have been collected by smaller, academic institutions such as the Penn Museum, University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia, University College London and the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London. These specific collections have been catalogued and published. See Anna Contadini (ed.), Objects of Instruction: Treasures of the School of Oriental and African Studies (London: SOAS, 2007), and the Penn Museum’s online digital catalogue as well as an extensive online database hosted by the Institute for Southeast Asian Archaeology and the Penn Museum. 26 Lyons and Rainey, “The Road to Ban Chiang,” 17. 27 Ibid. Princess Chumbhot’s feelings were justified as her reporting of the finds to the Thai Fine Arts Department in 1966 had resulted in only small-scale test excavations, the first of which took place in 1967. It was not until 1974 that a large-scale excavation, co-organised between the Thai Fine Arts Department and the University of Pennsylvania Museum, commenced. 28 Ibid. 29 In researching online and published catalogues of Ban Chiang artefacts from museums, it was possible for me to identify some of the donated objects as gifts from American ambassadors and other officials to Thailand. 30 Neil Brodie, “South California Museum Raids (2008),” Trafficking Culture, 20 Aug. 2012, http://traffickingculture.org/encyclopedia/case-studies/ south-california-museum-raids-2008/ (accessed 4 Jan. 2018). 31 At the time of this investigation, Swain was a Park Ranger and Special Agent at the Joshua Tree National Park in California, which is located in the southern region of the state. 32 Jason Felch, “Raids suggests a deeper network of looted art,” Los Angeles Times, 25 Jan. 2008. 33 Brodie, “South California Museum Raids (2008).” In trying to locate the specific objects associated with Hoyt/Swain’s donations, I was only able to find information from the BAMPFA, which indicates that he donated three separate red-buff globular jars (2006.81.1-3). 34 Ibid.; USA (2008a), Search warrant affidavit, United States v 18624 Del Rio Place, 08-0090M, 18 Jan. (Central District of California). 35 Felch, “Raids suggests a deeper network of looted art,” 2008. 36 Brodie, “South California Museum Raids (2008)”; Felch, “Raids suggests a deeper network of looted art.” 37 It should be noted that in the summer of 2005, I was an intern at the Southeast Asian Ceramics Museum at Bangkok University and worked directly under Dr Roxanna Brown. 38 Jason Felch, “A Passion for Art, a Perilous Pursuit,” Los Angeles Times, 12 and 13 Sept. 2008. 39 Ibid. 40 United States of America vs. Jonathan M. Markell and Robert E. Olson. United States District Court for the Central District of California, June 2008 Grand Jury Case 2:08-cr-00975-UA Document 1 Filed 08/15/08 Page 1 of 11 Page ID #:1–11. 41 United States of America vs. Jonathan Markell and Carolyn Markell. United States District Court for the Central District of California, Feb. 2010 Grand Jury Case 2:10-cr-00925-UA Document Filed 08/17/10: 1–13. And, United States of America vs. Robert Eugene Olson and Marc Stevens Pettibone. United

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States District Court for the Central District of California, June 2012 Grand Jury. Case 2:13-cr-00042-DDP Document 1 Filed 01/17/13: 1–18. 42 Jason Felch, “Beverly Hills antiquities dealer sentenced to jail for smuggling scheme,” The Art Newspaper, 16 Dec. 2015. 43 “Looted Thai artifacts from prehistoric sites returned by US,” Straits Times, 24 Nov. 2014. http://www.straitstimes.com/asia/se-asia/looted-thai-artifactsfrom-prehistoric-sites-returned-by-us (accessed 4 Jan. 2018). 44 Ibid. 45 Phataranawik Phatarawadee, “Thai Crusade Pays Off as Looted Treasures Return from US Museums,” The Nation, 20 Nov. 2014. 46 “US Museum Returns Looted Artefacts to Thailand,” Bangkok Post, 25 Jan. 2016. https://www.bangkokpost.com/news/general/838580/us-museumreturns-looted-artefacts-to-thailand (accessed 14 June 2019). 47 Na Thalang Jeerawat, “Ancient Artefacts Back Where They Belong,” Bangkok Post, 26 Oct. 2014. 48 Phatarawadee, “Thai Crusade Pays Off as Looted Treasures Return from US Museums”. 49 The Penn Museum in Philadelphia has an extensive collection of Ban Chiang holdings, which is the result of their joint archaeological expeditions with the Thai Fine Arts Department in 1974–75. The museum also includes a number of gifts and purchases of Ban Chiang artefacts. 50 Act on Ancient Monuments, Antiques, Objects of Art and National Museums, 2 Aug. 2504 be or 1961 ce, Thailand. 51 Deborah Wong, “A Potter’s Craft,” Expedition 24, issue 4 (1982): 36. 52 I want to thank Professor Wong for her correspondence with me dated from 7 Sept. 2017. 53 Deborah Wong, Sounding the Center: History and Aesthetics in Thai Buddhist Performance (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001). 54 Google Arts and Culture was formerly known as Google Art Project. 55 For 2012 figures see Javier Pas and Emily Sharpe, “Attendance Survey 2012,” The Art Newspaper, 28 Mar. 2013. For 2019 figures see Emily Sharpe and Jose Da Silva, “Visitor Figures 2019,” The Art Newspaper, 31 Mar. 2020. This updated figure does not include visitors to the Met Breuer or Met Cloisters, which brings attendance to over 7 million visitors, according to the Met’s own press release date 10 July 2019. 56 The 1950 Japanese Law on the Protection of Cultural Properties is considered by many to be among one of the most comprehensive laws of its kind. The law clearly designates significant cultural property both tangible and intangible. It also identifies specific works of art and categories of works of art that are not permitted to be exported from Japan. For a more thorough examination of the law see, Geoffrey R. Scott, “Spoliation, Cultural Property, and Japan,” University of Pennsylvania Journal of International Law 29, issue 4 (2008). References Act on Ancient Monuments, Antiques, Objects of Art and National Museums. 2 Aug. 2504 be or 1961 ce, Thailand. Brodie, Neil. “South California Museum Raids (2008).” Trafficking Culture, 20 Aug. 2012. http://traffickingculture.org/encyclopedia/case-studies/southcalifornia-museum-raids-2008/ (accessed 4 Jan. 2018). Charoenwongsa, Piset. “Ban Chiang in Retrospect: What the Expedition Means to Archaeologists and the Thai Public.” Expedition 24, Issue 4 (1982): 13–5.

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Contadini, Anna, ed. Objects of Instruction: Treasures of the School of Oriental and African Studies. London: SOAS, 2007. Cuno, James. Who Owns Antiquity? Museums and the Battle Over Our Ancient Heritage. New Jersey and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2008. Davis, Richard H. Lives of Indian Images. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1997. Felch, Jason. “A Passion for Art, a Perilous Pursuit.” The Los Angeles Times, 12 and 13 Sept. 2008. ___. “Beverly Hills antiquities dealer sentenced to jail for smuggling scheme.” The Art Newspaper, 16 Dec. 2015. ___. “Raids suggests a deeper network of looted art.” Los Angeles Times, 25 Jan. 2008. ___. “Victory for Thailand in the US.” The Art Newspaper Issue 258, June 2014, front page. Fitz-Gibbon, Kate. Who Owns the Past? Cultural Policy, Cultural Property, and the Law. New Brunswick, New Jersey and London: Rutgers University Press and the American Council for Cultural Policy, 2005. Gorman, Chester F. “A Case History: Ban Chiang.” Art Research News 1, no. 2 (1981): 10–3. Higham, Charles, Thomas Higham, Roberto Ciarla, Katerina Douka, Amphan Kijngam, and Fiorella Rispoli. “The Origins of the Bronze Age of Southeast Asia.” Journal of World Prehistory 24, no. 4 (Dec. 2011): 227–74. Jeerawat, Na Thalang. “Ancient Artefacts Back Where They Belong.” Bangkok Post, 26 Oct. 2014. “Looted Thai artifacts from prehistoric sites returned by US.” Straits Times, 24 Nov. 2014. http://www.straitstimes.com/asia/se-asia/looted-thai-artifacts-fromprehistoric-sites-returned-by-us (accessed 4 Jan. 2018). Lyons, Elizabeth, and Froelich Rainey. “The Road to Ban Chiang: A Dialogue of Events leading to The University Museum’s Participation in the Expedition.” Expedition 24, issue 4 (1982): 5–12. Merryman, John Henry. “Thinking about the Elgin Marbles.” Michigan Law Review 83, no. 8 (Aug. 1985): 1800–923. Pas, Javier, and Emily Sharpe. “Attendance Survey 2012.” The Art Newspaper, 28 Mar. 2013. Phatarawadee, Phataranawik. “Thai Crusade Pays Off as Looted Treasures Return from US Museums.” The Nation, 20 Nov. 2014. Scott, Geoffrey R. “Spoliation, Cultural Property, and Japan.” University of Pennsylvania Journal of International Law 29, issue 4 (2008): 803–902. Sharpe, Emily and Jose Da Silva. “Visitor Figures 2018,” The Art Newspaper, 26 March 2018. Solheim, Wilhelm G., II. “Early Man in Southeast Asia.” Expedition 14, issue 3 (1972): 25–31. United States of America vs. Jonathan M. Markell and Robert E. Olson. United States District Court for the Central District of California, June 2008 Grand Jury Case 2:08-cr-00975-UA Document 1 Filed 08/15/08 Page 1 of 11 Page ID #:1–11. United States of America vs. Jonathan Markell and Carolyn Markell. United States District Court for the Central District of California, February 2010 Grand Jury. Case 2:10-cr-00925-UA Document Filed 08/17/10: 1–13. United States of America vs. Robert Eugene Olson and Marc Stevens Pettibone. United States District Court for the Central District of California, June 2012 Grand Jury. Case 2:13-cr-00042-DDP Document 1 Filed 01/17/13: 1–18.

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“US Museum Returns Looted Artefacts to Thailand.” Bangkok Post, 25 Jan. 2016. https://www.bangkokpost.com/news/general/838580/us-museum-returnslooted-artefacts-to-thailand (accessed 14 June 2019). Wilford, John Noble. “New Bronze Age Date Reported.” The New York Times, May 1976. White, Joyce C. “The Ban Chiang Tradition: Artists and Innovators in Prehistoric Northeast Thailand.” In Discovery of a Lost Bronze Age: Ban Chiang, edited by Joyce. C. White, 12–52. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1982. White, Joyce C. and Elizabeth G. Hamilton. “The Transmission of Early Bronze Technology to Thailand: New Perspectives.” Journal of World Prehistory 22, no. 4 (Dec. 2009): 357–97. Wong, Deborah. “A Potter’s Craft.” Expedition 24, issue 4 (1982): 36. ___. Sounding the Center: History and Aesthetics in Thai Buddhist Performance. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001. Young, Stephen. The Theory and Practice of Associative Power: CORDS in the Villages of Vietnam 1967–1972. Rowman & Littlefield, 2007.

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PART II: OBJECT BIOGRAPHIES AND COLONIAL LEGACIES

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Chapter 5

ON THE ROAD BACK TO MANDALAY: THE BURMESE REGALIA – SEIZURE, DISPLAY AND RETURN TO MYANMAR IN 1964 John Clarke*

INTRODUCTION: THE ORIGINAL CONTEXT OF THE REGALIA The Burmese regalia once embodied the power and dignity of the Konbaung dynasty of Burma (1752–1885). Since their return to Myanmar1 in 1964 they have emerged there as iconic reminders of the country’s pre-colonial independent past, symbolically linking that period with the modern nation-state across the divide of colonial rule by the British from 1885 to 1948. This set of glittering objects was, in its totality, effectively a palladium of the Konbaung dynasty, the last royal line to rule in Burma. The collection originally comprised over 167 highly crafted objects, the majority being vessels made of gold, richly encrusted with rubies, emeralds and diamonds. Dating mostly from the 18th and first half of the 19th century, they include ewers, salvers and boxes and stands for holding betel nut or other royal accoutrements (see Fig. 5.1). Among the array are also found the full ceremonial costumes of the last king and queen, Thibaw (r. 1878–85) and Supayalat (r. 1879–85), including headdresses (see Fig. 5.2), symbolic jewelled slippers, belts, umbrellas and a variety of jewellery such as rings, ear-plugs and armlets. The collection includes both pieces commissioned by kings of the dynasty, pieces given in tribute by neighbouring states or others taken as war booty. An example of the latter is the lotus arm rest, originally part of the Thai regalia, which was probably taken when the Thai capital, Ayutthaya, was destroyed by Burmese forces in 1767. This assemblage of golden vessels and royal accoutrements was originally displayed on either side of the Burmese monarch’s throne on three state occasions each year when loyalty was sworn to the king by the

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nobility. These were 40 days after the Burmese New Year in April, so occurring in May/June, at the beginning of the Buddhist rainy season in June/July and at the end of this period in October.2 At these times the pieces were divided into two groups in three ascending tiers, the “royal right hand array” and the “royal left hand array” flanking the Lion Throne in the main audience chamber of the Mandalay Palace. The original nine thrones located within the palace were also themselves considered parts of the regalia. Only one of these, the Lion Throne from the Hluttaw or High Court, has survived due to it having been removed from the palace and displayed in the Indian Museum, Calcutta (Kolkata). This act may itself be seen as a precaution by the British against it being seized and used as a rallying point for nationalist sentiments as it formed a potent symbol of Burmese sovereignty.3 Today replicas of the regalia items stand on either side of a life-sized replica throne in the recently reconstructed Royal Palace at Mandalay, built between 1989 and 1996.4 SEIZURE AND SUBSEQUENT DISPLAY AT SOUTH KENSINGTON Fig. 5.1 Seven vessels from the Burmese regalia on display in the National Museum of Myanmar, Yangon, 2019. Photograph by Louise Tythacott. Fig. 5.2 Royal male headdress, 19th century. V&A picture, former museum number 241-1890 I.S.

The Third Anglo-Burmese War of 1885 led, after very little fighting, to the surrender of King Thibaw. On 28 November 1885, Colonel Sladen, going ahead of the main force accompanied by another British officer and the chief minister, the Kinwun Mingyi, met the king and suggested he go to India to discuss his future and that of his country. On the following day it was Major-General (afterwards Sir) Harry Prendergast, who was in charge of the invasion force, who accepted the surrender of the king at approximately 1 pm. Thibaw asked for a little more time to prepare for the journey but Prendergast gave him only ten minutes. In

5.1

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5.2

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the end he took nearly one hour to hastily pack his belongings, asking for a hundred coolies to carry his property to the waiting steamer. Carried in a bullock cart between lines of British troops, the royal party and a large retinue finally reached the river as darkness was falling at about 5.45 pm. The king’s bodyguards had deserted him as the British troops approached and all but 17 of the 300 “Maids of Honour” fled carrying as many valuables as they could.5 A correspondent attached to the expeditionary force noted, on 29 November, the looting of jewellery by women of the palace on the previous night, but also had the following to say: “The king’s crown and regalia, together with about five lakhs in cash are safe.”6 On that night most troops were withdrawn and only a small number guarded the palace. General White had been asked if the women who cooked food for the royal couple could enter the palace to provide a meal. Sladen persuaded Prendergast to allow this and thus a stream of women entered with wicker baskets, ostensibly for food, but which could in any case be used to carry out valuables. Thus looting was the work of women formerly employed by the palace, such as “Maids of Honour”, and by townswomen, in addition to that carried out by British troops. Once the palace was secured, however, Prendergast, assisted by Colonel Sanford and Captain Woodward R.N., and aided by a team of British sailors, searched the buildings and packed into crates all moveable property over the next ten days. A military Prize Committee was appointed to assess the property and organise its sale on behalf of the Government of India. Naturally, this included the regalia. It was usual practice during the 19th century to sell war booty and distribute the proceeds to the troops involved in a campaign. The first international laws prohibiting the seizing in war of an enemies’ property or the pillaging of a town or village date to the Hague Conventions on Warfare of 1899 and 1907. Even though the laws might have been largely ignored, prior to those dates there was not even a theoretical ban on the taking of war booty.7 It was no surprise to therefore learn that a sale of smaller moveable items such as ornaments and Buddha images did indeed take place in the palace precincts. The regalia, however, were recognised as a separate and significant body of material. One of the most detailed accounts of the history of the regalia after their seizure by British forces in November 1885, and indeed perhaps the only full one in print, is that of John Irwin, Keeper of the Indian Department (1960–77) of the Victoria & Albert Museum (V&A). I draw heavily on his account here in conjunction with declassified accounts from the Foreign Office and Commonwealth Relations Office, held at the National Archives, Kew.8 The regalia were shipped to London on the instructions of the Government of India. On their arrival, Lord Cross, Secretary of State for India, appointed a committee to advise on its

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disposal. As mentioned, the presumption at this point was the usual one, that as any other war booty, it would be auctioned and its cash value distributed as prize money to the troops involved. The most influential member of the new committee, however, was George Birdwood (by 1890 Sir George Birdwood) an authority on Indian decorative art who had advised the India Office on the subject. A few years before he had written The Industrial Arts of India, the handbook of the Indian section in the South Kensington Museum, renamed the Victoria and Albert Museum in 1899. It was he who, more than any other individual, was to be responsible for the intact survival of the regalia. The committee arranged in the first instance for the regalia to go on display in the Indian Court of the Colonial and Indian Exhibition which had opened in South Kensington on the site of the present Natural History Museum on 4 May 1886. A goldsmith and a jeweller were asked to examine the collection and report on its quality and value. The goldsmith, a Mr Arthur Phillips, assessed the total value as £21,191 10s (equal to over two million pounds today). The overall assessment was that the objects were mainly of historical interest, although they also threw light on the art of “further India”.9 At the start of 1887, the Indian Government reaffirmed its intention of selling the collection. It was at this point that the South Kensington Museum was offered the first refusal on its purchase. However, the sum involved was enormous and perhaps, as Irwin surmises, there were apprehensions that problems might in the future arise over legal issues of ultimate ownership. There was therefore hesitation on the museum’s part and the purchase was declined. By 1890, with nothing further having happened and opposition to a sale seemingly having grown, Sir George Birdwood galvanised support for the preservation of the regalia amongst prominent members of the India Office. He sent a note to Sir Owen Burne (Secretary, Political Department, India Office, also a member of the committee) noting that, although the regalia were art historically and aesthetically of inferior quality, when compared with the Indian decorative arts, they nevertheless had a historical value and were important as a trophy of the capture of Mandalay. The view was strongly supported by Edmund Neel, Secretary of the Political Department. He wrote that: The Indian Exchequer is not in such a poverty-stricken condition that it is necessary to convert these emblems of royalty into coin. Such a course appears to me to be unworthy of a great country and calculated to lower its dignity … these crown jewels were the outward and visible tokens of a sovereignty which we have extinguished and I consider that they should remain in the custody of the

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Government which has replaced the dynasty of Alompra. They should not find their way into the Auction Room.10

A week later, another committee was created to decide on the regalia’s fate and this too included Sir George Birdwood and Sir Owen Burne joined by General Donnelly of the Science and Art Department, the government body administering the South Kensington Museum. After further viewings of the pieces, they decided that the entire collection should be: … preserved as a memorial of the Alompra Dynasty of Burma, and in commemoration of the British annexation of the kingdom of Ava. With this object we consider that the collection should be entrusted to the custody of the Science and Art Department (South Kensington Museum) for display.... Here it is certain to be regarded with interest as an important illustration of the indigenous art of Burma during the last two centuries.11

This recommendation was then formally accepted by the Secretary of State, who on 14 August 1890 offered the collection to the museum for exhibition in the Indian Section. This offer was made on the condition that the regalia were not to be transferred to any other institution without the permission of the Secretary of State. As we shall see in the following discussion, the idea that the collection was not the official property of the museum, nor yet a loan as generally accepted, was to become a significant factor in relation to the museum’s position prior to its eventual return. The museum believed that it was entrusted with custodianship only, and that if anyone owned the objects, it was, to a degree, the British government. At this time 150 pieces entered the museum, although in many cases these were objects consisting of several parts, such as betel nut sets, and including pairs, such as slippers and bangles.12 For the next 49 years the regalia were displayed in the Burmese Section of the Indian Galleries in the Imperial Institute, just off Exhibition Road, opposite the South Kensington Museum.13 In 1942, over two years into the Second World War, the whole assemblage was packed up and placed for safe storage in caves in the Cotswolds (Gloucestershire).14 In 1944 bomb blasts damaged the Cross Gallery, in which they had been on display, and the roof of that gallery collapsed, destroying cases beneath. In 1945 they were brought out of storage and re-displayed in the Imperial Institute. During this period, between the end of the war and an eventual new display in the V&A in 1959, few requests were made for the return of the regalia. In 1956 an informal request was made by the Burmese Ambassador in London, but this was refused on the grounds that it set an awkward precedent in relation to other cultural material held in the UK.

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However, in 1955, with the demolition of the Imperial Institute, the regalia came to the V&A. In mid-March 1959, about one third (displayed in specially designed cases), formed the centrepiece of a new Southeast Asian Gallery designed by John Irwin, then Assistant Keeper. It was said that the spectacular objects soon became a focus of pilgrimage for visiting Burmese nationals.15 EVENTS LEADING TO THEIR RESTITUTION It was undoubtedly the greater public visibility of these spectacular objects that was to act as a catalyst for requests for their return. The regalia were viewed by the Britain-Burma Society who made a group visit on 17 March 1959 soon after their installation in the middle of the same month. Not long after this the objects were also visited and written about for the Burmese press by two Research Officers in the Burma Historical Commission, Daw Yi Yi and Daw Kyan. But it was a letter of 29 March from Sir Harold Roper to John Profumo, then Minister of State for Foreign Affairs, that first alerted the British Government to the issue of possible requests for the return of the material. Roper noted that a letter had appeared in The Daily Telegraph already stating that a request had been made for their return. He further suggested that it would be best to return the group before an official request was made and thought that he might table a parliamentary motion to that effect.16 It was soon discovered that no request for a return had been made, but Roper’s letter directed Profumo and Foreign Office colleagues to what had the potential to develop into a problematic situation. In Profumo’s response, he told Roper that it would be undesirable to voluntarily return the regalia as it would set “an awkward and undesirable precedent”, leading to further requests for the return of other cultural objects, including the Elgin Marbles.17 He agreed that the new V&A display was likely to lead to more requests for the regalia’s return, but thought that the British Government should not initiate anything at this stage and should instead use the time (while waiting for an official request) to clarify its position on the issue. Advice was sought from Professor B.R. Pearn, the resident academic in the Research Department of the Foreign Office and former Professor of History at Rangoon University before the Second World War. In a report of 3 April 1959, he recounted the seizure and display of the collection and other possible precedents for a return.18 Pearn noted that there were quite a few parallels, one possibly being the case of the proposed return of the chalice and crown of Hailee Selassi, the Emperor of Ethiopia, on a state visit to Britain in 1954, a proposal that was ultimately dropped.19 According to Pearn, the

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regalia case should not be considered in isolation as it could set a dangerous precedent for further requests, such as that for the armour of General Maha Bandula held at the Tower of London. The advice of legal counsel to the Foreign Office was also sought on the position in law. The opinion was that The Government of Burma had no legal rights to the objects because, when Burma was formally annexed in January 1886 and ceased to exist, the British Indian government (The India Office) was legally entitled to dispose of them. It was asserted that the new post-1948 state of Burma was not the legal successor to the India Office and that therefore could not claim the assets of its predecessor.20 This was to form the basis of the British Government’s view on the legal aspects of the case. It came to be recognised, however, that the Commonwealth Relations Office was, as far as could be ascertained, the legal successor to the India Office and therefore could be said to have authority over the objects. The fact that both the India Office and the India Office Library came under the jurisdiction of the Commonwealth Relations Office was to have a profound effect on the return of the Mandalay Regalia delaying its return by nearly five years. In May 1959 more trouble was instigated by a freelance Irish reporter, a Miss Quigly, who began a one-woman campaign for the return of the regalia to Burma. On 7 May she sent a letter to Mr Selwyn Lloyd, MP, which was also published in The Guardian.21 She argued that the return of the objects would be in line with the return of looted pieces by both individuals and the Indian Government following an appeal broadcast by a former Burmese Ambassador to the UK. Miss Quigly also raised the matter with the then-Burmese Ambassador to Britain, U Kyin, with whom she was acquainted, and with the Ministry of Education in Rangoon. However, the Foreign Office maintained its position that the Burmese Government had no legal right to the pieces and that any voluntary return would create a dangerous precedent for the rest of the national collection. John Profumo replied to several enquiries in this manner. The situation changed dramatically when on 15 December 1959 a formal written request was finally made by the Burmese Ambassador in London to the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs.22 Not surprisingly this caused a flurry of activity in the Foreign Office, the Commonwealth Relations Office and the V&A. A minute written by The Cultural Relations Office, within the Foreign Office, held that a return would weaken the national collections possibly beyond the regalia itself and generate only ephemeral goodwill that would not be worth the loss of such art treasures. It was admitted that there would sometimes be instances where exceptionally strong political reasons might make the return of pieces desirable. The specific instance of the possible return of

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the “crown of Hailee Selassi” was again given, but this time in relation to the 1931 invasion of Ethiopia by the Italians. The writer concluded that there is no similar overwhelming reason to return the regalia. There was also no evidence that British financial assets, presently frozen, would be released by the action. In conclusion, the advice was to refuse the request and fall back on the convenient fact that no international convention on the issue existed. In the end, however, this strategic argument was not used. The opinion of John Irwin was canvassed. His initial response was that the regalia were in a special category as “the only loot in the museum”, that if the museum returned it they would not be losing a very great treasure and that it was even doubtful whether the museum had a legal right to it.23 In a fuller minute of his own, Irwin was first careful to draw a distinction between objects given by private individuals that might have been looted from the Mandalay Palace and the regalia as a discrete body of objects. His estimation of its true value to the museum was a measured one. Although the pieces made a spectacular display, he believed they were of limited importance in relation to the wider educational remit of the museum. He added that “I think it must be frankly admitted that its historical and sentimental value to the Burmese is out of all proportion to its artistic value to us.” He added that as the regalia “has never been the property of the museum, I see no danger of Museum policy being compromised in any way”. He did feel that they had artistic merit, even if all Burmese art was derivative “in relation to the larger Asiatic tradition”.24 Irwin did not feel any concern that their return would set a precedent as, in his opinion, the collection had never been the property of the museum. He also suggested that, as several duplicates existed within the material, some could be left to the museum as representative examples.25 Although Irwin was certainly part of the British establishment, he held extreme left-wing views and was no supporter of mainstream conservative values. He had in fact been a member of the British Communist Party until the Hungarian uprising of 1956. His political leaning may well, it can be assumed, have informed his position on the regalia. A flavour of his stance can be gathered from a report made of a talk he gave to the Britain-Burma Society in February 1965 where he mercilessly lambasted the committee set up to dispose of the regalia after their exhibition in London.26 There was a disagreement over the artistic value of the regalia. The Foreign Office took the viewpoint that they were of very limited artistic value, harking back to the opinion of the 1890 disposal committee. Thus D.F. MacDermot (Foreign Office) wrote to R. Howlett, the Under Secretary of Establishment at the Ministry of Education, that “everyone seems to be agreed that they are of negligible artistic value while to the Burmese they

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are of immense historic interest and the very symbol of their past”.27 Howlett, no doubt informed by John Irwin, disagreed, however, arguing that they recorded 200 years of Burmese art history.28 Howlett, again following Irwin, raised the point that the return should be conditional on the Burmese providing good exhibition facilities. Despite disagreement over the regalia’s artistic value, by the spring of 1960 there had emerged a broad agreement between the V&A, The Ministry of Education (who oversaw the museum’s administration), and the Foreign Office, that the collection should be returned. The Foreign Office hoped that this would benefit British/Burmese relations and help release up to £10 million worth of British assets frozen in the country as a result of nationalisation. There was also a consensus that no precedent would be created by the return of the pieces as they had never been the property of either the V&A nor the British Government. Although almost everyone thought it possible to move forward there was one major obstacle – the opposition of the Commonwealth Relations Office. It had been determined that this body, as successor to the India Office, was the nominal owner of the regalia.29 However, they were embroiled in the issue of who should now own the India Office Library, which also lay under their control, and were in the midst of protracted negotiations with India and Pakistan on the matter. The Commonwealth Relations Office felt that repatriating the regalia would jeopardise the UK claim to the library over claims from India and Pakistan. Despite the fact that the Commonwealth Relations Office was not unsympathetic to the Burmese claim, they were adamant that no return should be made until the issue of the library was resolved.30 In 1954 the Burmese themselves had made a claim for the return of 177 manuscripts and books seized from the Palace but had been told that the India Office Library must remain intact and in the UK.31 We have seen that John Irwin at the V&A was agreeable to a return. However, at the Foreign Office another diplomat had taken a personal interest in seeing through the process of return. This was Frederick Archibald Warner (later Sir Frederick) (1918–95), who had been posted to Burma in 1956 as Head of Chancery, and in November 1959 became Head of the Foreign Office’s Southeast Asian Department.32 His deep affection for Southeast Asia spurred his resolve to see the pieces repatriated. As early as January 1960, Warner was petitioning the Commonwealth Relations Office to overturn their embargo of the regalia’s return, pointing out that after the official request for that from the Burmese Ambassador it was difficult to fob off the Burmese, and that delay risked the eruption of an acrimonious dispute. His minutes to the Commonwealth Relations Office are frequent between 1960 and 1964 and though remaining polite, one can sense, contain evident frustration. In an internal minute

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to another Foreign Office colleague of 20 August 1964 he notes that the Foreign Office “have long been keen to return the Mandalay regalia” and have agreement from the V&A, the Ministry of Education and Treasury but are being blocked by the Commonwealth Relations Office. He notes there that the Burmese had not been told the real reason for the delay but instead that the matter involved other departments and was also largely due to the issue of it creating a precedent for requests from other countries.33 On the 6 February 1964 the Duke of Devonshire wrote to Peter Thomas of the Commonwealth Relations Office asking him to reconsider their veto and rehearsing the by now familiar arguments. A return would tip the scales in Britain’s favour and hopefully lead to the release of blocked funds and an equitable payment to British banks nationalised the year before. He stressed the radical difference between the case of the India Office Library and the regalia; the library, with minor exceptions, was a legitimate repository and archive built up over many decades while the “Mandalay Regalia are nothing more nor less than military loot and, as such, are an embarrassment to the V&A Museum’s collection of cultural and educational treasures”.34 He also pointed out that on his several annual trips to Britain, General Ne Win had often raised the issue of the regalia and that, during the previous August, the Burmese Ambassador to London had told him that, as far as Burma was concerned, the regalia were the only problem in Anglo-Burmese relations. Despite this letter the stalemate continued until the 27 October 1964 when a brusque and insensitive letter from Lord Walston (FO) to Lord Taylor (CRO) seemed to create a catalyst for change. In this Walston referred to the regalia as “trinkets and gilded apparel of controversial artistic value” adding that they are shown “in a sub-basement leading to the Gentlemen’s Cloakroom”.35 He continued that it took up considerable room and that “the museum is anxious to get rid of it”.36 He emphasised that it was only the Commonwealth Relations Office holding up the return and that this, if it happened, could help release £10 million of frozen British assets. When a copy of this letter reached Irwin he was outraged, and wrote to Trenchard Cox, refuting the slurs to the museum he found in the letter.37 In written correspondence to the CRO, Mary Longhnane of the Treasury notes that Walston’s letter is misleading in both its tone and some of its detail. For example, the gallery displaying the regalia was indeed on the lower ground floor and happened to have a gentleman’s cloakroom at its end, but could not be said to lead directly to the regalia, as was implied. She also noted that although the V&A were not keen for the objects to go back to Burma they “recognise that they have no legal or moral claim to them and that the historical and sentimental value of the collection to the Burmese is out of all proportion

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to its artistic value to the V&A”.38 She was not at all worried at the prospect that the India Office Library might end up being taken over by the Indians and/or Pakistanis, which would relieve the Treasury of the expense of its storage and upkeep. She was worried, however, about a possible effect on future claims for the Elgin Marbles. She made a strong distinction between the regalia and the Elgin Marbles on the basis of how they were acquired, saying: The Marbles were not looted but were rescued from the Turks by Lord Elgin at very great expense and were subsequently bought for the nation out of public funds. They are without dispute the property of the British Museum Trustees and there is no more reason for returning them to Greece now, than for returning say, the Leonardo cartoon to Italy or for demanding that Gainsborough’s “Blue Boy” should be repatriated from America to this country.39

Arguably as a result of Lord Walston’s letter, and quite suddenly on 3 November, the Commonwealth Relations Office withdrew their objection to a return of the regalia and a meeting was arranged between all the concerned parties three days later.40 However, Lord Taylor made the condition that the Lord Chancellor must be consulted before any action was taken. Ne Win was in London at this time and, despite this stipulation, Taylor felt confident a decision could be made in time to simultaneously release the news and present the General with a token item of regalia before his departure. A careful distinction was made at this gathering between military booty taken by command from an enemy and loot taken by private individuals, a point previously stated by John Irwin in an earlier minute of 1960.41 Both the Foreign Office and the Commonwealth Relations Office appeared keen to make sure any information made public about the return was given a positive spin. Therefore, it was noted that “for presentation purposes”, the words “military booty” and “private loot”42 should not be used. D. Neylan, Establishment Officer at the Ministry of Education, writing to Tonkin of the Foreign Office, also asked for a small but significant “cosmetic” amendment to be made to the meeting minutes.43 He requested that Irwin’s statement declaring that “it (the regalia) had never been given outright to Her Majesty’s Government but had merely been deposited with the museum” should be amended to include “for safe custody”.44 This calculated addition immediately suggests both the temporary nature of the deposit and a more beneficent attitude to the objects. The Lord Chancellor and Attorney General were both consulted and neither believed that a precedent would be created by a return of the

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objects. The statement of intent to return was made to the Burmese Ambassador U Hla Maung by the Principle Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs on 19 November. Carefully excluding any reference to ownership past or present it stated that “Her Majesty’s Government have decided as a gesture of goodwill and friendship to return to Burma the collection of Burmese art in the V&A popularly known as the Mandalay Regalia”.45 Prompted no doubt by John Irwin, the Foreign Office suggested that one piece might be left on long loan to the museum. But on 25 November, the Burmese Ambassador announced that a piece would be given outright. This is the hintha, or sacred goose, still displayed in the V&A today (see Fig. 5.3).46 Its label bears the credit line reflecting the diplomatic language just discussed, namely that it was given “as a token of friendship and goodwill and as a recognition of the V&A’s careful custodianship of the regalia for 78 years”. Though one may be tempted to see such language as purely diplomatic there remains nevertheless some substance to the assertion of “careful custodianship”. In 1890 it was saved from auction and dispersal by the impassioned arguments of Sir George Birdwood and other members of the organising committee. Later it was saved from damage or destruction in the Second World War through the museum’s foresight. Soon after this, on 11 November, a meeting was arranged at the Foreign Office for the handover to General Ne Win of a single, highly symbolic object, the dagger and sheath or than lyet, believed to have been owned by King Alungapaya (r.1752–60), founder of the Konbaung dynasty. The scene appears on the front page of the first Britain-Burma Bulletin, Volume 1, no. 8 of Winter 1964–65, where Patrick GordonWalker, Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs is seen handing the dagger and sheath to General Ne Win, who is flanked by his wife and Lord Louis Mountbatten (1900–79). On this occasion General Ne Win was magnanimous in his view of the original seizure of the regalia saying: I understand that several of our friends in this country have felt embarrassment by the presence of the Mandalay Regalia but if we would look back into history, we will find that it was common practice that a nation should enhance her prestige and glory or enrich herself at the expense of other nations. In this respect Burma was no exception … new ideas have emerged that nations should live together happily in the family of nation … Britain’s present action is brilliantly illustrative of this ideal.

He went on to warmly thank the British Government and the people of the United Kingdom on behalf of the Government of Burma.47 Robert Skelton, then a Museum Assistant, but later Keeper of the Indian

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Department (1977–89) at the V&A, remembered attitudes to the return as genuinely positive, supporting Irwin’s account in the Britain-Burma Bulletin.48 Celebrations included a sumptuous dinner party given by General and Madame Ne Win at The Dorchester hotel, attended by 15 members of staff with their wives.49 The story of the regalia and its return was recounted in British and international newspapers. It notably attracted a large amount of attention in Burma itself where it was reported in the Burmese, Chinese and English newspapers printed in Rangoon. An editorial in The Working People’s Daily for 12 November 1964,50 for example, described how the regalia reflected the sophistication of Burma’s independent past, which could serve as an inspiration for “future accomplishment and struggles” and that all countries needed to make these past glories known. “This need is doubly emphatic in Burma”, it added, “where attempts have been made by the former colonial powers to play down the achievements of the past monarchs of the country”. The importance of national pride “in the historical and national traditions of the past would promote the building of typically Burmese Socialist attitude among the future generation”. There was a further comment that: “… the historical value of the collection is tremendous and the intrinsic and sentimental value priceless and unfathomable”. Sincere thanks were also offered to Britain for its safekeeping of these treasures for so long “in spite of the chaos suffered during the Second World War”.51 It is easy to forget that in 1964 the Second World War and all its destructive consequences were still fresh in the public memory. In an editorial in the same publication, more references were made to the wish of the Revolutionary Government to discover, restore and preserve the cultural heritage of Burma. There were two important aspects of this - firstly the recovery of the Mandalay Regalia and secondly the aim to rebuild the Mandalay Palace itself, destroyed by fire in March 1945. The latter was finally achieved, but only after an eight-year building programme beginning in 1989. Returning to the Mandalay Regalia, it was envisaged that the return of the bulk of the pieces might take at least six months, if not more. However, this expectation was soon overturned by a surprise request from the Burmese Government, through their embassy in London, for a small group of the most spectacular objects to be sent earlier, to arrive in time for the Independence Day celebrations on 4 January 1965. Thirteen pieces were ultimately sent. These included a gem-set gold box in the form of a “sacred goose” or hintha, a royal headdress, jewelled slippers and two swords, which were all despatched in mid-December. At the same time, extensive in-house conservation work was being undertaken on the remainder of the collection. A Burmese chemistry student, U Ba Tint, working for the Burma Archaeological Survey, was at this point brought

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over by the British Council to allow him to witness this work and potentially develop new professional skills. The remainder of the regalia was packed and despatched from the museum on 16 June 1965 and, at that time, was given an estimated value of £20,000. The total number of all pieces returned lay eventually at 140. Ten of the more minor pieces of the original 150 had been found to be missing in 1955 during a periodic audit, and this loss was believed to have occurred during the hurried packing and transfer into deep storage during the war or in the return process after it. They were officially registered as missing and “written off”, the term used for the process of de-accessioning

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Fig. 5.3 Betel box in the form of a hintha or sacred goose. V&A museum number IS.246&a-1964.

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Though the process of the return appears therefore to have been quite smooth and good-natured, there were nevertheless concerns raised outside the museum about the precedent that such an action might have for public collections in the future. These are made clear in exchanges with two members of the public writing in late 1964 and in confidential briefing notes created at the same time to enable the Prime Minister, Harold Wilson, to answer an anticipated question on the subject in the House of Commons. The first letter of 12 November was from the Reverend Nigel E. Davies, Vicar of Leeming, Northallerton in Yorkshire, who wanted to be reassured that what belongs to a museum is considered “always as lawful museum property”52 and asked if this is the return of a loan, questioning how pieces were acquired originally. C.H. Gibbs Smith, Keeper of Public Relations, answered on behalf of the museum, no doubt using material drafted by John Irwin, and concentrated on the belief that the regalia were never the property of the museum and that the word “loan” was also not correct. In fact, he says: They might I suppose be said to have been the temporary property of the government, but in no sense the property of the museum…. I quite agree that there would be chaos if museums were to start handing over their rightful property, but I can assure you that no such move would ever, as they say, get to first base, or the whole of the museum’s treasures would be imperilled, as you so rightfully suggest.53

The second letter was along the same lines. It came from Mr George A. Harrison, a lecturer in history at Glasgow University, written on the 13 November.54 He asked whether the museum’s Directors and Departmental Heads have approved of this return and whether this was the result of a standing agreement that had to now be honoured. He was also concerned at how this may “attack the very security of possession of objet d’arts in many fields and would create an alarming precedent”. Moreover, it would seriously weaken the Burmese art collection as a whole. Mr Gibbs Smith replied in a similar manner, again emphasising that the regalia were never museum objects as such “we could have no objection to their going”.55 Equally revealing were the confidential briefing notes provided by the Foreign Office for Harold Wilson who faced a question in the House of Commons on 19 November 1964.56 It was anticipated that a question would be asked by Mr John Tilney (1907–94) MP for Liverpool Wavertree (from 1950 to 1974) the substance of which would be the following: “To ask by what authority Her Majesty’s Government have decided to return the Mandalay Regalia to Burma.”57 Mr Tilney had special interest in the

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matter, as he had previously been Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State in the Commonwealth Relations Office and had dealt with the thorny issue of the fate of the India Office Library, which, as we have seen, was somewhat linked with that of the regalia. It was also anticipated that there would be further questions on the implications for museum policy of a return and complaints from the public that the government was returning a valuable collection while £10 million worth of British assets languished in frozen form in Burma. The notes firstly clarify that authority for the return had been given by the Foreign Secretary after consultation with his colleagues, in the interests of promoting closer relations between Britain and Burma. The answer to the objection that Britain was returning an art collection while its assets were being held in Burma was simply that Her Majesty’s Government (H.M.G.) hoped the goodwill generated would help to solve this problem, presumably leading to the unfreezing of the assets. In answer to the possible question “Why have we given way to Burmese pressure?” the notes say “The decision to return the Regalia was not prompted by weakness, but by a desire to convince the Burmese Government of the fund of goodwill in this country towards Burma.”58 One of the most interesting questions, and corresponding answers, relates to the ownership of the objects. To the question “Did the Regalia belong to H.M.G?”, an emphatic answer is given: “No Sir. The Regalia were deposited with the South Kensington Museum … in 1890 … by the then Secretary of State for India on behalf of the British Government of India which at that time included the Government of Burma.” The ownership is stated to lie firmly with the Government of Burma and it is noted that the Government of independent India has never laid claim to it and is unlikely to do so. A following question to the statement that ownership lies with Burma is: “Why then has it taken 16 years to return the regalia”? The answer is very suggestive of a government covering its tracks. The substance of it is that “exhaustive enquiries” had to be made into the origins of the regalia and the circumstances of their deposition in the V&A in order “to ensure that their return to Burma would not compromise museum policy in any way”.59 The question of the origins of the regalia and the circumstances of their deposition could in fact have been settled by a quick phone call to the Keeper of the Indian Section as the facts were well known within his department. It is quite possible that the statement is largely a smokescreen, designed to make the government look proactive and in control of the situation, whereas the more likely scenario is the procrastination, noted above, connected with the fact that the return might have prejudiced discussions on the India Office Library. However, we do know, as already evidenced, that the Secretary of State had consulted his colleagues within his department. In any case, the briefing notes conclude, “H.M.G. are satisfied that the return of the

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regalia will not in any way prejudice the legal ownership of art treasures in this country.”60 A further issue, concerning confusion between pieces of supposed regalia which were actually other museum objects and the Mandalay Regalia itself, was also covered as the last item of the briefing notes. The answer to the question, “What about the other pieces of Burmese regalia in the Victoria and Albert Museum?”, was therefore that these were pieces of Burmese art “presented” to the museum at various times and not at all connected to the regalia as such. It would therefore be contrary to museum policy to return these. In the event, the exchange between Mr Tilney and Harold Wilson was relatively brief, with Tilney asking the Prime Minister by what authority Her Majesty’s Government could have returned the regalia. Harold Wilson, following the briefing notes, said that the authority had been given by the Foreign Secretary after consultation with his colleagues in the interests of closer Anglo-Burmese relations. Mr Tilney then asked whether it would not have been more courteous to have informed the House rather than release a press release a week ago. He also hoped that the regalia would not go the way of the Abyssinian crown that was returned, and how would Wilson respond to requests from Ghana to return the Asantehene golden ornaments or from the United Arab Republic to return the Rosetta Stone. Mr Wilson brushes this aside by saying that these are hypothetical cases and that as the regalia were taken by military force it was thought right and proper that they should be returned to improve Anglo-Burmese relations.61 The confusion between other high-value Burmese artefacts that are part of the V&A collection and the regalia, referred to above in the briefing notes, has continued to haunt the story of the regalia’s return. It dates back to the visit of Daw Yi Yi and Daw Kyan in 1959. At that time these two members of the Burmese Historical Commission had hired a photographer to take pictures of the regalia. However, his photographs included non-regalia items that were pictured alongside regalia pieces and appeared in a series of seven successive articles on the Mandalay Regalia by Daw Kyan in The Working People’s Daily, the leading national daily in Burma, between the 21 November and 3 December 1964.62 Daw Kyan also confused these objects in her editorial which entrenched the perception of the whole group being regalia. In terms of quality and richness it is easy to see how confusion might have occurred, as the 11 items of non- regalia are mostly goldwork set with rubies and/or emeralds. They include a solid gold box set with rubies in an acheik pattern that entered the India Office Museum in 1867 and was likely a diplomatic gift to the British in lower Burma from King Mindon (r. 1853–78). There was other jewellery consisting of a pair of bangles set with rubies and a pair of jewel-set earplugs that had entered the East India Company Museum in 1855. A salwe, or chain of office,

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and another pair of earplugs were gifts in 1947 from a former judge stationed in Burma, a Mr L.M. Parlett while a harp beautifully decorated with gold designs on black lacquer was bequeathed by Lord Curzon of Kedleston in 1927 (see Fig. 5.4). Of even greater significance, as objects in their own right, was a group of gold items excavated near the Shwedagon Pagoda in Yangon (former Rangoon) in 1855. These four comprised a gold stupa, a round box containing bone fragments, an earring of tassel form and a unique golden topknot headdress for a woman (see Fig. 5.5). Until relatively recently these had been thought to possibly be the burial deposit of the famous Burmese Queen, Shinsawbu (r. 1454–71). However, they have recently been re-dated to the reign of Rajadhiraj (r. c.1384–c.1420).63 Regalia items appear alongside the royal headdress in one illustration in The Working People’s Daily and the harp

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Fig. 5.4 Harp, wood and lacquer. V&A museum number IM.234-1927.

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in others. This confusion was compounded by the reproduction in Forward, an official periodical published by the Directorate of Information dated 1 December, of two V&A postcards showing a sword, known as the Dalhousie Sword64 and the supposed Queen Shinsawbu gold pieces described above. A minute written to the Director at the time notes that while these are not mentioned directly as part of the Mandalay Regalia, the context would make readers think they were.65 The long-term effect of this confusion, never fully corrected, is the suspicion in the minds of Myanmar nationals that not all of the Mandalay Regalia were returned and that some still remains in the V&A. This has lingered until the present and even at the time of writing (September 2017) a large text panel in the gallery housing the regalia in the National Museum, Yangon, says that some of the regalia were

Fig. 5.5 Queen's headdress, gold and gemstones. V&A museum number 02758(IS).

5.5

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returned but that the V&A still holds a portion of it. A similar confusion had also arisen during the visit of General Ne Win on 11 November 1964 when the regalia were all concentrated in cases near to the entrance of the Southeast Asian room. These were all fully lit while the rest of the Burmese objects were in cases behind them with the lights switched off. The general, however, having inspected the regalia, pointedly asked to see the rest of the collection. This forced John Irwin’s hand and he had the lights switched on. The general was then delighted to recognise the “relics of Queen Shinsawbu” and other “regalia” as he believed. John Irwin very diplomatically told the general that these were not in fact part of the Mandalay Regalia that were to be returned. A minute of 29 December 1964 from a D. Neylan to J.W. Cable of the Foreign Office recounts this episode, commenting that due to the excitement of the occasion it was quite likely that the general did not fully take in Irwin’s information.66 About a week later the Burmese Ambassador called John Irwin to ask if a small group of pieces could be sent ahead of the rest for the 4 January Independence Day celebrations. The Ambassador also requested the “Queen Shinsawbu relics” as he said the general had especially requested those. Once again Irwin explained that these pieces were not part of the regalia seized from the palace and so would not be returned. The Ambassador, with some embarrassment, apologised for his misunderstanding, agreed to withdraw the request and report the matter to Rangoon. As this appeared to clear the matter up, John Irwin took no further action. However, very soon after, a copy of Forward with the photographs of the “Queen Shinsawbu relics” and the hintha and Dalhousie sword came to the attention of John Irwin. As he knew the publication was distributed via the Burmese Embassies, he phoned the London Embassy and asked the Second Secretary if the Ambassador knew about the publication. He replied that he did know and regretted the misunderstanding, adding that he would inform the Burmese Government of the true facts. When the Ambassador visited the museum the next day to sign papers relating to the return, Irwin raised the matter again. The Ambassador apologised for the misunderstanding in Rangoon and said that he would explain the real position to them. He added that as there had been no actual statement of error it would be better not to publish anything as it might have the effect of stirring up trouble rather than allaying it. This presumably refers to possible embarrassment that the government of Burma and its Embassy in London might suffer had the true facts become widely known. Mr Neylan, the writer of the minute recounting these facts, added that no further action, other than that already taken by Irwin, was required. The fact that nothing further was done to make the true position clear to either the government or the

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wider public in Myanmar, is almost certainly the reason for the longstanding nature of the misunderstanding. A postscript to this enduring confusion and evidence of its persistent nature in an even cruder form is the entry under “The Mandalay Palace” on Wikipedia, which at the time of writing included the sentence: “The British invaded and ransacked the palace and burnt down the royal library and some of the artefacts which were taken away are still on display in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.”67 A more accurate account of events has, however, now been substituted for this one. CONCLUSION The Mandalay Regalia were initially preserved as a historical memorial to a dynasty that had been dethroned and as a trophy of empire, celebrating what later proved to be its fullest expansion. Only secondarily were they regarded of any art historical or aesthetic importance. By the time of Burmese independence in 1948 this narrative had been abandoned by its British keepers and by the 1960s there appears to have been acceptance that the return was both justifiable and inevitable. We have seen that John Irwin’s attitude was key to expediting a return, a process also helped by the presence of Frederick Archibald Warner at the Foreign Office who also personally wanted to see it happen. The return was surrounded by a careful control of information supplied to the public through the media. This included a rigorous exclusion of mentions of ownership whether by Burma or Britain and of any mentions of loot or looting, though both were discussed in private minutes and letters by all involved. Both the Foreign Office and the V&A focus on the idea that Britain had been the “custodian” of these exceptional objects for 78 years. The emphasis on the non-ownership by British institutions and rather their careful custody of the collection, can perhaps be seen as a means of deflecting attention from the earlier motives of the seizure and display in a colonial context. It also helped arguably to set the group of objects apart and in a separate category from the rest of the Southeast Asian collection. If the pieces were never owned, then it would be easier to part with them. Nevertheless, the fact remains that all 150 pieces in 1890 were assigned museum numbers in exactly the manner that any other object at the time was. The marking of an object with a museum number occurs at the end of the acquisition process and shows that it has entered the national collection. The regalia pieces were not differentiated in the way that loan objects were, and still are today. In all probability it was simply easier in 1890 to accession the objects like any others and the distinction of non-ownership was only later brought to the fore, at the time of return.68 No one in 1890 would have considered it likely that the collection would have been returned to Burma

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in the future. The fact that, as the pieces had been registered, they were de facto owned by the V&A was recognised by Sir Trenchard Cox who pointed this out in March 1960. He believed that a Board of Survey, a small committee formed to oversee deaccessions, would be required to dispose of them. This was in effect a sanction from the Treasury.69 His plea seems to have been entirely disregarded, and being outranked, we hear no more of it. As we have seen, there was also great concern about the return creating a precedent, but eventually there was a consensus in both the museum and government that none had been set. The return of the regalia was certainly an unprecedented act in the history of the V&A. The only other comparable case of restitution to Asia (under very different circumstances), was that of the return of the bone relics of the Buddha’s chief disciples, Moggallana and Sariputra. These relics, which are of exceptional importance for all Buddhists, had been excavated in 1851 from a stupa near Sanchi in Madhya Pradesh; in 1952 they were returned to India after a period spent in Sri Lanka from 1947.70 Requests had been made for their return on religious grounds by the British Maha Bodhi Society from 1932 and from 1945 by the Indian Maha Bodhi Society. All the remaining fragmentary bone relics that had been excavated from stupas in the region of Sanchi were subsequently returned to India in 1958 at the suggestion of the Ministry of Education in London. In this case too, as with the Mandalay Regalia, government is seen as the active force in initiating a return. Clearly the reasons in this case were religious rather than political, historical or artistic and this is underlined by the fact that the lathe turned soapstone reliquary boxes that had contained the bone fragments returned in 1958 were retained by the museum. The return of the Burmese regalia therefore remains, for the V&A, in a category of its own. For the government of General Ne Win, who in 1962 had just seized power in a largely bloodless coup, the return of the regalia two years later represented an instrument of propaganda and a focus for nationalist sentiment, useful in patriotically underpinning what was being established as “The Burmese Way to Socialism”. In today’s Myanmar these sumptuous objects have something of a double-edged nature. As the historian Thant Myint U mentions in a film documenting descendants of the Burmese royal family,71 the problem with the Konbaung dynasty in collective Burmese memory is that they failed to prevent European powers conquering the country and thus can be said to epitomise weakness, and yet the objects they used to symbolise their power are among the last and most splendid reminders of a pre-colonial independent state.72 The persistence into the first half of the 20th century of the potent symbolic power of the regalia amongst the ordinary people of Burma was shown during the events of the popular uprising of Saya San of 1930/31. This

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rural rebellion began in October of 1930 with Saya San declaring himself king and being crowned as such, dressed in royal costume and invested with the other symbols of kingship. These included what must have been pastiches of parts of the actual regalia, by this time residing in the V&A: ruby earrings, gem studded shoes, a gem encrusted sword, a royal fan or whisk and a white umbrella. He was crowned in a pagoda in Rangoon sitting on a new lion throne made of banyan wood and studded with rubies. One of his first acts was to declare war on the British. The rebellion was crushed in the following year with 3,000 rebels killed or wounded.73 Today the collection is housed in cases behind iron bars in the National Museum, and acts as a reaffirmation of a national identity shorn of colonial underpinnings. Seen in the 1960s by Ne Win and his government as a means of strengthening patriotism and nationalism, it has continued to form a new palladium of state linking Socialist Myanmar to an ancient and glorious past. The increasingly democratic state of Myanmar has nevertheless not yet shed the power of its military ruling class, who may also find inspiration in a past Burman royal power that sought to impose itself on a patchwork of ethnic groupings often at loggerheads with it.

Notes *The author sadly passed away during the editing process of this chapter. 1

2 3 4 5 6 7

At independence in 1948 the country was called The Union of Burma. That was changed by the government in 1989 to The Union of Myanmar. The change was meant to suggest the inclusion of non-Burmese or Baman peoples within the union. Thida Tun, The Myanmar Royal Regalia & Royal Household Articles Displayed in the National Museum (Yangon: National Museum of Myanmar, 2000), 9. There was a belief that as long as the throne survived, the Burmese kingdom could rise again. See Robert L. Solomon, “Saya San and the Burmese Rebellion,” Modern Asian Studies 3, no. 3 (1969): 209–10. Elizabeth Moore, “The Reconstruction of Mandalay Palace: An Interim Report on Aspects of Design,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 56, no. 2 (1993): 335–50. Thant Myint-U, The River of Lost Footsteps, Histories of Burma (New York: Faber and Faber, 2006), 20. Terence R. Blackburn, Burma and the Enemy Within (New Delhi: A.P.H. Publishing Corporation, 2006). See internet link https://uscbs.org/1899---1907-hague-conventions.html for 1899 and 1907 Hague Convention on Warfare. It was only much later in response to the unprecedented looting that occurred in the Second World War that laws such as the 1954 Hague Convention on the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict were passed, see http://

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portal.unesco.org/en/ev.php-URL_ID=13637&URL_DO=DO_ TOPIC&URL_SECTION=201.html. The 1970 UNESCO Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property also aimed to protect art and cultural artefacts though no distinction was made within such categories in terms of objects of greater or lesser importance, see http://portal.unesco.org/en/ev.php-URL_ ID=13039&URL_DO=DO_TOPIC&URL_SECTION=201.html. 8 John Irwin, “The Regalia: Its Seventy-Eight Years in The Victoria and Albert Museum,” Britain-Burma Bulletin 1, no. 8 (Winter 1964/65): 6–7. 9 Ibid., 6. 10 Ibid., 6–7. 11 Ibid. 12 Museum numbers 144-294 IS.1890. A longstanding problem in determining the exact numbers of objects comprising the regalia appears to have been caused by the fact that many of the objects are in several parts. Thus, when the statement of intent to return was finally made in Nov. 1964, the collection was referred to as being in 167 pieces, comprising 141 objects. 13 These buildings were demolished in 1955 to make way for the Imperial College but the tower remains in its original position on the site. 14 This date is recorded on a minute of 6 May 1955, RP.55/2257/2751Y from Mr A.G. Mitchell, Senior Museum Assistant, to Mr Archer, Assistant Keeper of the Indian Section. Mitchell mentions that wartime records had been scrutinised in relation to the movement of objects. However, in the article written by John Irwin (1964: 7), he says they were packed up “within a week of the declarations of war in 1939”. In the same passage he gives the date of 1946 for their return to the Imperial Institute. 15 Dorothy Woodman, “History of the Regalia,” Britain-Burma Bulletin 1, no. 8 (Winter 1964/65): 8. 16 FO 371/143913. 17 Ibid. 18 B1761/1. 19 This may in fact refer to a pair of objects taken when Maqdala in Ethiopia was looted by British troops in 1868. They were sometimes called the crown and chalice of the Emperor Tewodros, but were in fact sacred objects taken by Tewodros from the church of Our Lady of Qwesqwam near Gondar. These are now V&A objects: crown, M.27-2005, chalice, M.26-2005. 20 B1761/1, minute of Mr Freeland, 19 May 1959. 21 FO 371/143913. 22 Ibid. minute of 15 Dec. 1959. 23 Ibid. minute of G.W. Squire of 15 Jan. 1960. 24 FO 1761/169782 minute of John Irwin of 9 Mar. 1960. 25 Ibid. 26 Ibid. in a minute of 10 Feb. 1965 D. Tonkin (FO) recounts Irwin’s address to the Britain-Burma Society of 10 Feb. 1965. 27 FO 23/1065 minute of 25 Feb. 1960. 28 Ibid. minute of Howlett to MacDermot of 23 Mar. 1960. 29 T 218/649 in a minute to C. Costley-White of the Treasury J.E. Cable of the FO states this explicitly. 30 The deadlock was summarised in a minute of 13 July 1961 from J.E. Cable (FO) to C.G. Costley White (CRO) detailing a meeting held on that day between all the parties involved.

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31

T 218/649, minute of 13 July 1961 J.E. Cable (FO) to C.G. Costley-White (CRO). In 1963 A.J. Williams (FO) noted on 19 Apr. 1963 that the Burmese claimed 300 Pali and Burmese manuscripts and 2,500 books printed in Burmese, see FO 1761/169782. 32 John Ure, “Warner, Sir Frederick Archibald (1918–1995)”, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004; online edn, May 2014, http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/60056; Edward H. Peck, Recollections 1915–2005 (New Delhi: Paul’s Press, 2005), 184–7; Maurice Collis, Diaries: 1949–1969, edited by Louise Collis (London: Heinemann, 1976), 114. Warner’s early career, though promising, was severely checked through his having worked alongside Guy Burgess, who was also a close personal friend, before his defection to the Soviet Union. However, his diplomatic career recovered and ended on a high note as UK Ambassador to Japan between 1972 and 1975. I wish to thank Professor Anthony Stockwell for guiding me towards these sources for Warner’s life. 33 FO 1761/169782 minute of 20 Aug. 1964. 34 ED 23/1065. 35 Ibid. letter of 27 Nov. 1964. 36 Ibid. 37 Ibid./minute to Trenchard Cox of 3 Nov. 1964 where he says: “it is not true that the regalia is of controversial artistic value, that it is exhibited in a sub-basement leading to the Gentleman’s cloakroom or that the museum authorities have ever been anxious to get rid of it”. 38 T 218/647 minute of 2 Nov. 1964. 39 ED 23/1065, letter of 27 Oct. 1964. 40 Ibid., minute of Lord Taylor to Lord Walston of 3 Nov. 1964. 41 FO 1761/169782, minute of 9 Mar. 1960. 42 ED 23/1065, minute of 11 Nov. 1964 with copies sent to Trenchard Cox and John Irwin. 43 Ibid. 44 Ibid. 45 Ibid. 46 Gallery 47a in July 2018. 47 Irwin, “The Regalia,” 2. 48 Ibid., 7; Robert Skelton, personal communication to author, 14 Aug. 2017. 49 Irwin, “The Regalia”, 7. 50 Britain-Burma Bulletin 1, no. 8 (Winter 1964/65): 3. 51 Ibid. 52 Government of Burma Nominal File 1903–1965, MA/1/B3514, RP. 64/2999. 53 Ibid. 54 Ibid. 55 Ibid. 56 Ibid. 57 Ibid. 58 Ibid. 59 Ibid. 60 Ibid. 61 Cutting from Hansard of 19 Nov. 1964 on T 218/649. 62 Mentioned in a confidential letter of 29 Dec. 1964 from D. Neylan (Ministry of Education) to J.M. Cable (Foreign Office) in Government of Burma Nominal File 1903-1965, MA/1/B3514, RP. 64/3734.

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63 64 65 66 67 68 69

70 71 72

73

Donald Stadtner, “Rajadhiraj’s Rangoon relics and a Mon Funerary Stupa,” The Journal of the Siam Society 103 (2015): 67–91. A sword in a golden sheath set with rubies, museum number 2574 (IS) presented to Lord Dalhousie (1819–60), Governor-General of India from 1848 to 1856. On RP.3067 the minute is not dated or signed, and was one supposes written by the then Keeper of the Indian Section, John Irwin. RP.3734 Y. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mandalay Palace. The text on Wikipedia was changed by the author in September 2017. The regalia themselves were accessioned in 1890 and all the pieces were given that year number. In a minute of 23 June 1965, V. Winslop of Central Inventory noted “I assume that as these objects were not museum property but merely in the museum’s custody that no write off action is required”. He was answering a point made by R. Howlett, Under Secretary and Director of Establishment at the Ministry of Education to D.F. MacDermott of the Foreign Office asserting that, as the regalia were not museum property, no Treasury sanction would be needed to dispose of them. 607637 in ED 23/1065. Asia Department unpublished notes refers to steatite reliquary boxes. IM.216 and 217-1921. Alex Bescoby, director, We Were Kings, 2015. The great-grandson of Thibaw, Soe Win, and his cousins and other family members have for many years held a ceremony to mark the anniversary of the exile of Thibaw. Called pardawmu, which means “exile” this is held at the end of November each year. In 2015 the government finally allowed them to hold this in the Mandalay Palace for the first time. Solomon, “Saya San and the Burmese Rebellion,” 210 (footnote 3).

References 1899 & 1907 Hague Conventions, https://uscbs.org/1899---1907-hague-conventions. html. 1954 Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict, http://portal.unesco.org/en/ev.php-URL_ID=13637&URL_ DO=DO_TOPIC&URL_SECTION=201.html. 1970 Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property, http://portal.unesco. org/en/ev.php-URL_ID=13039&URL_DO=DO_TOPIC&URL_ SECTION=201.html. Bescoby, Alex, director. We Were Kings. 2015. Birdwood, George. The Industrial Arts of India. South Kensington Museum London: R Clay & Sons and Taylor, 1880. Blackburn, Terence R. Burma and the Enemy Within. New Delhi: A.P.H. Publishing Corporation, 2006. Collis, Maurice. Diaries 1949–1969 (edited by Louise Collis). London: Heinemann, 1976. Irwin, John. “The Regalia: Its Seventy-Eight Years in The Victoria and Albert Museum.” Britain-Burma Bulletin 1, no. 8 (Winter 1964/65): 6–7. Mandalay Palace, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mandalay Palace. Moore, Elizabeth. “The Reconstruction of Mandalay Palace: An Interim Report on Aspects of Design.” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 56, no. 2 (1993): 335–50.

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Myint-U, Thant. The River of Lost Footsteps, Histories of Burma. New York: Faber and Faber, 2006. National Archives, Kew, B1761/1, ED 23/1065, FO 23/1065, FO 371/143913, FO 1761/169782, T 218/649. Peck, Edward H. Recollections 1915–2005. New Delhi: Paul’s Press, 2005. Solomon, Robert L. “Saya San and the Burmese Rebellion.” Modern Asian Studies 3, no. 3 (1969): 209–23. Stadtner, Donald. “Rajadhiraj’s Rangoon relics and a Mon Funerary Stupa.” The Journal of the Siam Society 103 (2015): 67–91. Tun, Thida. The Myanmar Royal Regalia & Royal Household Articles Displayed in the National Museum. Yangon: National Museum of Myanmar, 2000. Ure, John. “Warner, Sir Frederick Archibald (1918–1995).” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004; online ed., May 2014. http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/60056. V&A Registry Archive Government of Burma Nominal File 1903-1965, MA/1/ B3514, RP.55/2257/2751 Y, RP.64/2999, RP.3067, RP.3734 Y. Woodman, Dorothy. “History of the Regalia.” Britain-Burma Bulletin 1, no. 8 (Winter 1964/65): 8.

Chapter 6

BRIDGING THE GAPS: THE POLITICS OF DISPLAY AT THE ĐỒNG DƯƠNG BUDDHIST ART GALLERY, ĐÀ NẴNG MUSEUM OF CHAM SCULPTURE Nguyễn H.H. Duyên

INTRODUCTION On 27 February 2009, the Museum of Cham Sculpture1 in Đà Nẵng officially re-opened the Đồng Dương gallery of Buddhist art after five years of research, de-installation, conservation and re-installation. The gallery was named after the site of Đồng Dương where a monastery and a large cache of Buddhist sculptures were excavated in 1902. The refurbishment of the Đồng Dương gallery was made possible by the project Fonds de Solidarité Prioritaire – Revalorisation du Patrimoine Muséographique Vietnamien (FSP), sponsored by the French government. As a participant in the project, the Guimet Museum of Asian Art in Paris was responsible for giving technical support to the staff of the Museum of Cham Sculpture at every stage. The gallery of Đồng Dương Buddhist Art was selected for refurbishment in the attempt to modernise the museum in the postcolonial period as well as to re-contextualise Champa art in the light of recent scholarship in Champa studies on both sides, the Vietnamese and the French. This chapter critically examines the display of Buddhist art at the Đồng Dương gallery of the Museum of Cham Sculpture and highlights the question of object repatriation in curatorial practice. It first gives a brief introduction to the Đồng Dương Buddhist monastery and the collecting of artefacts at this site in the early 20th century when what is now Vietnam was part of the French Indochinese Union, more commonly referred to as Indochina. Next, the chapter analyses the current display at the Đồng Dương gallery in relation to organisational clarity, exhibition environment and the overall message that the curators

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hope to communicate to visitors. To conclude this discussion, I address the issue of object repatriation in curating Đồng Dương Buddhist art, an issue which is silenced in extant curatorial work at the Đà Nẵng Museum of Cham Sculpture. Study for and of this permanent exhibition has revealed the absence of key sculptures in the presentation of Đồng Dương Buddhist art, yet nowhere in the exhibition have these missing parts been identified. While contributing to our appreciation of the site and the period art, the display fails to convey the temple’s original sculptural layout and associated religious signification as well as the long life of its many elements, a number of which remain in international collections. It is argued throughout this chapter that the layout of the exhibition and the grouping of objects into different yet interrelated sections is an attempt to represent the original context of the Đồng Dương monastery when it was first excavated in 1902. However, I further argue that such an understanding of the original temple context is, to some extent, inaccessible to museum viewers due to insufficient interpretation and the unacknowledged gaps caused by absent objects. My analysis of the display of Đồng Dương Buddhist art aims to provide a context within which we can see the problems in the curation of this gallery. Amongst these is the issue of de-contextualisation which, fundamentally, must be attributed to the absence of key sculptures. This interpretive context triggers the question of object repatriation. Following the excavations at Đồng Dương, the site was levelled to rubble during the Vietnam War (1955–75). Consequently, sculptures have been dispersed to various museums both inside and outside Vietnam and the layout and architectural landscape of the Đồng Dương site is known today mainly via the excavation report, drawings and photographs of Henri Parmentier and his colleagues.2 Ultimately, the issue to be considered is whether Đồng Dương Buddhist artefacts currently belonging to the collections of other museums should be returned to the Museum of Cham Sculpture, either on a voluntary basis or by legal requirement, so that the gaps in this gallery could be bridged and visitors could gain a more coherent understanding of the Buddhist art of Champa. THE ĐỒNG DƯƠNG BUDDHIST MONASTERY AND THE COLLECTING OF RELIGIOUS FRAGMENTS The vestiges of the Đồng Dương Buddhist Monastery are situated at the village of Đồng Dương in Thăng Bình district, Quảng Nam province, which is approximately 65 kilometres to the southwest of Đà Nẵng city where the Museum of Cham Sculpture stands today. The site was an important Buddhist establishment of the Champa kingdoms in the late

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ninth and early tenth centuries.3 According to the foundation stele C.66,4 Indravarman II was crowned as the king of the Indrapura dynasty in 875 ce. The capital seat of this new dynasty was based at the site of Đồng Dương. After his enthronement, the king ordered the construction of this temple complex in dedication to Laksmindra-Lokesvara, the Buddhist deity of compassion and also “the protector of the founding king of the Indrapura dynasty”.5 In the late tenth century, this monastery underwent severe destruction due to the conflicts between Đại Việt and Champa, and the site fell into ruin ever since. In 1902, Henri Parmentier (1871–1949) and Charles Carpeaux (1870–1904) first conducted a large-scale excavation at Đồng Dương.6 The clearance and excavating of the neglected site unveiled the structure of the whole temple complex and a large number of sandstone sculptures, mostly in a damaged condition. Running along a 1,300-metre east-west axis, the monastery included three successive enclosures, each surrounded by a brick wall.7 Enclosure III lying to the east of the complex accommodated an assembly hall for Buddhist monks known as the vihara. A massive pedestal with narrative panels featuring the life the Buddha Sakyamuni8 and a colossal seated Buddha statue were found inside this enclosure, along with other statues of Buddhist monks, Dharmapalas (deities who protect the Buddhist law) and Devas (non-human beings inhabiting the world of bliss). Enclosure II housed the vestiges of an open building, probably functioning as a mandapa for the main temple. Four statues of Dvarapalas (guardians of the gateways) were reportedly excavated inside this section. Lastly, enclosure I, standing to the west of the complex, consisted of a gate tower, a central Vairocana temple,9 a main temple dedicated to Laksmindra-Lokesvara and other auxiliary shrines. The excavation of enclosure I also revealed another massive pedestal assembled from blocks of stone showing narratives of the Buddha’s life10 and sculptures of seated Devas and Arhats.11 Following the excavation, sculptures were moved to the Tourane Garden to be displayed at the Đồng Dương Gallery of the newly constructed museum (now the Đà Nẵng Museum of Cham Sculpture). Others were also dispatched to the National Museum of Vietnamese History in Hà Nội and Hồ Chí Minh City, as well as the Guimet Museum of Asian Art and others in Europe and North America. Inscriptions and sculptures at Đồng Dương have demonstrated substantial evidence of the emergence of Vajrayana, a strand of Mahayana Buddhism, in Champa. Buddhist imagery is also associated with the Đồng Dương art style in the stylistic development of Champa sculpture. By the time Buddhism prevailed over the capital of Indrapura in the ninth century, Shaivism and Vaishnavism were also practiced by the Champa people. Albeit different in doctrines, these beliefs still co-existed due to

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their “quasi-complementary qualities”, as noted by Anne-Valérie Schweyer.12 As a result of this religious syncretism, Buddhist sculptures found at Đồng Dương show a very distinctive iconographic programme testifying to the encounters of Buddhism and Hinduism as well as the mingling of Cham indigenous elements with the Buddhist art traditions of China, India and Java. NEW GALLERY: REPRESENTING ĐỒNG DƯƠNG BUDDHIST ART INSIDE THE WHITE CUBE Accessioned to the museum collection in the years after the excavation in 1902, the Buddhist sculptures found at Đồng Dương were displayed at the Đồng Dương gallery which opened in 1936. This gallery, however, failed to represent adequately the sculptures in several ways. First of all, the two large pedestals from enclosures I and III were re-assembled into three different groups, thus breaking their original compositions. Second, most sculptures were fixed to the museum walls or cement plinths and poorly lit, with bottlenecks caused by the narrow circulation space. Some 80 years later, the FSP project finally enabled the museum to re-organise the gallery using modern museological devices to display the Buddhist sculptures while respecting, it was hoped, the original layout of the monastery. Under this project, sculptures, after a process of conservation, were displayed in the renovated gallery in five separate groups (see Fig. 6.1). Groups 1 and 3 present all sculptures excavated from enclosures I and III. Group 2, which spatially corresponds to enclosure II, stands in between groups 1 and 3, featuring two giant Dvarapalas trampling on demon animals. Group 1a, on the same side as group 1 but separated by a wall, consists of a seated Deva and two broken statues which include the square bases and remains of the legs and lower bodies of the deities. Statues of group 1a were found in the auxiliary shrines surrounding the main temple of enclosure I (see Fig. 6.2). Lastly, group 4, situated opposite group 2, includes only the bronze statue of a female Buddhist deity labelled Bodhisattva Tara/ Laksmindra-Lokesvara which could be considered the “star attraction” of the gallery. In August 1978, local villagers found this bronze while they were digging up bricks at the ruins of Đồng Dương.13 The statue was individually and proudly exhibited in the central section of the gallery. Before entering the Đồng Dương gallery, visitors are directed to walk through a small space featuring black and white prints of the excavations at Mỹ Sơn and Đồng Dương in 1902 and 1903. Passing this area, visitors come to the introductory panel on the wall and follow the suggested traffic pattern starting at group 3, continuing to groups 2, 1 and 1a, then

Bridging the Gaps

finishing at group 4.14 In terms of organisational clarity, it could be argued that the grouping of sculptures into three main sections on an east-west axis, plus an auxiliary and a “devotional icon” space, allow visitors to contextualise the original layout of the Đồng Dương monastery and to visualise where the sculptures were located at their excavation site. Whether the curators are successful in their effort to evoke the atmosphere of a Buddhist temple complex in a secular museum setting is questionable. Like other modern galleries, the new gallery employs spotlights from the ceiling to illuminate objects on view. Walls are painted white. Narrow windows are designated high near the ceiling level to limit the natural light and also to make the exhibition space well ventilated. The idea of the “modernist display” or the “white cube” as Brian O’Doherty discussed is clearly represented via the interior construction of this gallery.15 Sculptures are positioned on plinths and pedestals, which both distance the objects from the viewers and simultaneously “reinforce the idea of objects as untouchable and unattainable”.16 All of these museological devices and visual technologies are deployed partly to enhance the sacred atmosphere of a Buddhist temple inside a museum. Yet it would appear that the desired effect has not been reached, if the following elements are taken into consideration.

6.1, group 1

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Fig. 6.1 Object grouping in the Đồng Dương gallery: Groups 1, 2, and 3. Photograph by Lý Hoà Bình, Museum of Cham Sculpture in Đà Nẵng.

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First, white is undeniably a signifier of modern art.17 As seen from most modern art museums, interior walls of these buildings are painted white so as to create a seemingly “neutral” environment for the contemplation of art. In many Buddhist temples, however, darkened colours are normally used to decorate the walls, ceilings and columns.18 On the one hand, the white walls and pastel shades of the Đồng Dương gallery contrast with the atmosphere of a traditional Buddhist temple. On the other hand, they function like a background to elevate the sandstone sculptures, making them stand out under the lighting effects; in so doing they effectively strengthen the aesthetic “art gallery” experience. The Đồng Dương gallery indeed evokes the ambience of a Buddhist art gallery rather than a Buddhist temple. Second, although religious buildings are significantly similar to museums from exterior architecture to interior space, religious objects, Duncan argues, are unavoidably de-sacralised and de-contextualised once relocated to a museum setting.19 “Everything in a museum is put under the pressure of a way of seeing”, Alpers asserts, and the so-called “museum effect” is said to isolate the objects from their original contexts and transform them into works of art for contemplation.20 Inside the museum, sacred objects would be viewed and appreciated for their aesthetic, art

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historical and educational values. In a similar manner, Buddhist sculptures excavated from the temples of Đồng Dương have been detached from their original context and deprived of their social and religious functions when they come to be viewed in an art gallery as three-dimensional Buddhist artworks. The shortcomings of de-contextualisation are also compounded by the minimal interpretation offered in the exhibition. The exhibition starts with a ground map of the Đồng Dương Monastery and an introductory panel printed on the wall in Vietnamese, English and French. The panel gives a brief introduction to the location and layout of the Đồng Dương Monastery, the development of Mahayana Buddhism in Champa and the collecting of Đồng Dương Buddhist art in the early 20th century, all condensed into a few lines. There is a lack of group labels for clusters of objects so as to indicate that each group corresponds to each enclosure where the sculptures on display were unearthed. Labels only mention the object name, provenance, date, material and accession number. The information, as read from current text panels and labels, is limited, and other learning resources, such as flipbooks, AV projectors and hand-held devices have not yet been utilised. Understanding the Buddhist art of Champa requires a background knowledge, not only in Buddhist

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Fig. 6.2 Group 1a of Devas. Photograph by Paisarn Piemmettawat, River Books Bangkok.

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iconography, but also the religious landscape of Champa. Đồng Dương Buddhist sculptures also have a particular iconographic pattern that is exclusively associated with the Đồng Dương art style. It is my contention that, despite the curatorial attempt to mimic the temple layout, museum viewers are likely to find it difficult to understand the significance of the sculptures in the gallery due, in part, to this lack of discursive contextualisation. For decades, curators have debated approaches to art appreciation. Should the approach be “Art for Art’s Sake” or “Art for the People’s Sake”? If art were truly autonomous – separate from societal norms, hierarchies and politics – then there would be no need for

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contextualisation in exhibition spaces, either in the form of printed information or guides and lectures. Artworks would “speak for themselves”.21 The lack of contextualisation in the Đồng Dương gallery indeed raises these questions as well as the educational role of art museums. By offering minimal interpretation, the curators purportedly turn the Buddhist sculptures into artworks. This approach may be favoured in art museums; nevertheless, it may make some viewers feel intimidated because the objects are somehow unreachable, given that Đồng Dương Buddhist imagery may not be familiar to contemporary audiences – who may themselves have different levels of knowledge and learning needs which require the availability of a variety of information, formatted in different ways. Constrained by inadequate explanation, it is doubtful that the overall messages of this exhibition – that is, the emergence of Mahayana Buddhism in Champa, marked by the establishment of the Đồng Dương Monastery or the distinctive iconography of Đồng Dương Buddhist sculptural art – are communicated clearly to the viewers. TOWARDS THE UNRESOLVED QUESTION: WHO OWNS CHAMPA ART?22 In the concluding chapter of his doctoral dissertation, Julian Brown questions the present-day ownership of Cham art.23 Who has the right to write about and display Cham art? Should Cham objects in the holdings of overseas museums be returned to Vietnam? Is there a future for Cham art? The last part of this chapter will identify the missing statues in the Đồng Dương gallery, which has undeniably exacerbated the issue of de-contextualisation described in the previous section, and simultaneously address the question of object repatriation and the future of Cham art raised by Brown. On view at the Guimet Museum of Asian Art in 2005, the exhibition Art Treasures of Vietnam: Champa Sculptures featured two Deva statues, one loaned by the Rietberg Museum in Zurich [RHJ 402] and the other from the Museum of Cham Sculpture [BTC 170-3.5].24 Both deities sit in the position of ease (sukhasana) with the right hand touching the right knee while the left hand holds an unidentified attribute, which could be a short-bladed dagger. Also, striking similarities can be seen from the head halo, tiered crowns, ear ornaments, facial expressions and pedestal decorations which feature panels of grotesque masks disgorging stylised scrolls of foliage. In 2014, nine years after the Guimet exhibition, the Deva [BTC 170-3.5] of the Museum of Cham Sculpture was displayed together with a seemingly identical sculpture from the Cleveland Museum of Art numbered [1935.147] at the exhibition Lost Kingdoms: Hindu–Buddhist

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Sculpture of Early Southeast Asia organised by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York (see Fig. 6.3).25 One may critically question: how many sculptures of Deva bearing these same iconographic features were excavated at Đồng Dương, and based on this iconography, who might they represent, and how have some of them become part of the collection of the Cleveland Museum of Art and the Rietberg Museum? The similar iconography betrays the fact that they were associated with each other in terms of religious function at the Đồng Dương site. Given the distribution of this group of statues to different museums, how can their religious function be sufficiently understood by museum viewers? The excavation at Đồng Dương in the autumn of 1902 revealed the structural remains of seven auxiliary shrines located around the main temple on the inner face of enclosure I. The excavation reports by Parmentier made mention of a group of identical statues of Devas unearthed within this enclosure. The Deva [RHJ 402] of the Rietberg Museum was found in situ, standing on a brick pedestal at the west shrine on 24 October 1902, while the one [1935.147] belonging to the Cleveland Museum of Art was collected from the northwest shrine on 28 October that year.26 Fragments of similar statues were also discovered lying near the south and northeast shrines of this complex. Among these fragments, a bust with a head bearing the same décor as the seated Devas is today seen at the Rietberg Museum, registered as [RHJ 404], while two statue bases with partial remains of legs and lower bodies are exhibited at the Đồng Dương gallery of the Museum of Cham Sculpture. In all probability, these statues were worshipped as planetary deities (navagrahas) or directional guardians (dikpalakas) protecting the main temple of enclosure I.27 According to the catalogue of the Rietberg Museum, after the 1902 excavation, the École française d’Extrême-Orient (EFEO) disposed of some of the identical sculptures from this group, while the most intact were kept for display at the museum in Vietnam – a process very similar to that which took place in Cambodia in the early 20th century, as discussed by Abbe in chapter 2.28 Mrs Paul Mallon purchased these “de-accessioned duplicates” in New York before 1932 and then sold them to the banker and art collector Eduard Von der Heydt,29 who finally donated them to the Rietberg Museum in 1952.30 The statue in the Cleveland Museum of Art, on the other hand, was accessioned into this museum collection in 1935. In addition to the two Deva statues, the Rietberg Museum acquired a sculpture of a Bodhisattva, with the accession number [RHJ 403]. The deity is seated in royal ease (rajalilasana), with the right leg drawn up vertically and the left folded horizontally. His right hand touches the right knee while his left-hand rests on the left thigh. The face and headdress look similar to the statues of Devas, as described above. Behind his head is

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Fig. 6.3 Deva / Planetary deity [1935.147], Cleveland Museum of Art. 6.3

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an oval-shaped halo which is depicted like rays of flame radiating from the head and shoulder. This work provides a symmetrical pair with the Bodhisattva [BTC 186-3.6] currently exhibited at the Đồng Dương gallery of the Museum of Cham Sculpture. The work at the Museum of Cham Sculpture has lost most of its left arm whereas its twin at the Rietberg Museum was damaged at the right foot, left knee and right side of the halo.31 In terms of its collecting history, the Rietberg Museum’s statue was first sold to Paul Mallon by the EFEO because it was considered a duplicate. After leaving Vietnam, it had been displayed at the Metropolitan Museum in New York before entering the Völkerkunde Museum in Berlin and finally joining the collection of the Rietberg Museum together with other seated Devas from Đồng Dương.32 The Deva [BTC 170-3.5] is presently displayed together with two statue bases in group 1a at the Đồng Dương gallery (see Fig. 6.2). There is, however, no label explaining the excavation context, the meaning of these sculptures, the absence of identical ones which once formed an ensemble, but were “de-accessioned” by the EFEO, and their current whereabouts in museums overseas. Also, no site map of the auxiliary shrines indicating the location where the seated Devas were discovered within enclosure I is shown at the gallery. The only means of interpretation offered to visitors is the minimalist object label attached near the Deva [BTC 170-3.5] with mention of title, date, material, provenance and accession number. Similarly, the Bodhisattva [BTC 186-3.6] is assembled together with other sculptures of Buddhist monks and Dharmapala on the pedestal [BTC 177+178-22.25] of group 3, yet there is no information about its context of discovery and its relation to the one on view at the Rietberg Museum today. Another missing part in the Đồng Dương gallery is the head of the Buddha [BTC 183-13.5]. This Buddha was originally found in two separate parts: the legs were buried under other fragments of enclosure III while the torso was lying in the central temple of enclosure I.33 The head had been broken off the statue before 1902. The excavation in Đồng Dương unearthed two large heads, yet neither of them seems to have belonged to this Buddha statue. The first head was already fixed to the Buddha’s torso by the time of its discovery, probably an act carried out by local people in reverence to the Buddha. However, this head did not match its body as seen from the break at the neck. In 1936, it was sent to the Guimet Museum of Asian Art in Paris, accessioned as [MG18897]34 and is today displayed in the Champa gallery of this museum (see Fig. 6.4).35 The second head, found at the central temple of enclosure I, was also checked by Parmentier and his colleagues to see whether it fitted on the Buddha. This one was also not a good match: however it was still displayed together with the Buddha’s body at the museum for a few years and was later transferred to the Louis Finot

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Museum in Hà Nội. Today it belongs to the collection of the National Museum of Vietnamese History with the accession number [Lsb 21185]. For years, the Museum of Cham Sculpture displayed the Buddha [BTC 183-13.5] with a cement head that was cast based on an imaginary model, which distorted not only the integrity but also the aesthetics of the statue. When the Đồng Dương gallery was refurbished under the FSP project, this cast was taken off and the Buddha was returned to its original condition, minus its head. In 2014, with permission from the National Museum of Vietnamese History, the Museum of Cham Sculpture made a replica of the head [Lsb 21185] and fixed this onto the body of the Buddha as it is exhibited today (see Fig. 6.5). This replica does not precisely match the body due to its enormous size; however, museum staff insisted that a replica be made in substitution for the lost one. Since its display, this assemblage has sparked a debate amongst museum staff, scholars and viewers as to whether the museum should respect how the Buddha was originally excavated in order to ensure its authenticity and whether the Guimet Museum of Asian Art should return the head [MG18897] to the Museum of Cham Sculpture. Currently, there is a text panel located next to the Buddha [BTC 183-13.5] explaining the excavation context of this statue and the assumptions about

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Fig. 6.4 Buddha head sent to Guimet Museum of Asian Art [MG18897]. Photograph by Nguyễn H.H. Duyên.

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its original head as a rationale for the addition of the replica to the statue. However, the debate is still ongoing.36 Given the scarcity of Champa Buddhist images and the missing elements in the display of Buddhist art and archaeology of Đồng Dương at the Museum of Cham Sculpture, a request for the return of some objects should be taken into consideration. It is, however, almost impossible to make this claim for restitution. In the first place, the UNESCO Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property was only adopted in 1970. Vietnam ratified this convention on 20 September 2005.37 The Champa temples and sculptures were excavated and collected by the EFEO when Vietnam was under the French colonial administration in the early 20th century. Most Champa artefacts entered the collections of overseas museums before 1970. There is no legal basis, therefore, on the Vietnamese side to ask for the return of these artefacts.38 Secondly, the Vietnam government has not issued any specific decisions or laws on cultural repatriation from abroad. The law on cultural heritage, which came into effect on 29 January 2001, does not set out any recommendations on the return of cultural artefacts.39 Of further significance in our case study is that restitution is “a highly charged, political subject” embedded in power relations between countries.40 Given the relatively unstable economic and political position of Vietnam today, it is doubtful the government will raise its voice on this matter. For these reasons, the issue of cultural repatriation is not an overriding concern for most museums in Vietnam today and only a few cases have been highlighted. Amongst them, a widely known case is the return of a rickshaw used by Queen Mother Từ Minh41 under the Nguyễn Dynasty (1802–1945). King Thành Thái sold the rickshaw to Prosper Jourdan, head of his escort team, in 1907 (see Fig. 6.6).42 The Centre for Monuments Conservation in Huế purchased this artefact at the Rouillac auction in Tours, France on 13 June 2014, with financial support from the People’s Committee of Thừa Thiên – Huế, local businesses and overseas Vietnamese,43 and has displayed it at the Diên Thọ Palace in Huế, Vietnam, since its return in 2014.44 The rickshaw, inlaid with mother-ofpearl, was not the only artefact that was taken in this court context. French documents also make mention of the looting of antiques from the Huế Royal Palaces when the French army attacked this imperial citadel in 1885.45 How to bring the looted artefacts back to their home country is, however, an unresolved question. According to Ms Huỳnh Thị Anh Vân, Director of the Museum of Royal Antiquities, only a limited number of artefacts have been returned to Huế mainly through donations from private owners or international communities.46 Another case of repatriation which occurred in 2018 was the return of 18 artefacts which

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Fig. 6.5 The current display of the Buddha [13.5]. Photograph by Paisarn Piemmettawat, River Books Bangkok.

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Fig. 6.6 Rickshaw returned from France. Photograph by Huỳnh Thị Anh Vân, Museum of Royal Antiquities in Huế city.

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were illegally imported to Germany and owned by a Vietnamese businessman living in Berlin. These included working tools and weapons, both stone and bronze, dated between the seventh and second century bce. German police seized the artefacts and worked with the Vietnamese Embassy in Berlin to trace their provenance and finally returned them to the National Museum of Vietnamese History in Hà Nội.47 There has however yet to be any restitution of Champa artefacts. With little immediate chance for restitution from overseas museums of the Đồng Dương Buddhist objects in particular and Champa Hindu– Buddhist sculptures in general, the Museum of Cham Sculpture may consider several possible ways to improve its current display. Recent research has suggested that neither the Buddha head [MG18897] now on view at the Guimet Museum of Asian Art nor the head [Lsb 21185] in the Champa collection of the National Museum of Vietnamese History precisely matches the Buddha [BTC 183-13.5] of the Museum of Cham Sculpture.48 In this context, the Museum of Cham Sculpture could exhibit the Buddha statue without the replica of the head [Lsb 21185]. Instead, this replica could be placed next to the Buddha together with the one from the Guimet Museum of Asian Art if none of the original heads is returned by these institutions. The authenticity of the object on display would in this way not be distorted and visitors would be offered open interpretations of the sculptures. For the case of the groups of Deva statues, minimal interpretation is problematic in curatorial terms. In order to enable visitors to better visualise the complex of temples in the enclosure I, and also the function of planetary deities worshipped inside surrounding shrines, the museum could consider displaying replicas of the aforementioned statues from the Rietberg Museum and the Cleveland

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Museum of Art; this could complement the use of more interpretative means such as computerised models and a site map of the seven auxiliary shrines around the main temple to assist visitors in obtaining more contextual information. The use of casts is quite controversial in museum exhibitions; however, this mode of display may be considered a last resort to bridge the gaps this chapter has identified in the current exhibition at the Đồng Dương gallery. CONCLUSION The FSP project has enabled the Museum of Cham Sculpture to reorganise the display of Đồng Dương Buddhist sculptures in a more appropriate way following new research in the field of Champa studies and modern museological concepts. The gallery has highlighted the aesthetic beauty of the objects on view yet fails to convey the sacred meaning of these pieces. In curating the gallery of Đồng Dương Buddhist art, it was the intention of the curators to represent the original composition of the Đồng Dương Monastery within the exhibition layout. In so doing, it was hoped that sculptures would not be de-contextualised. However, at present this task remains incomplete. The fact that there are a number of objects integral to the site’s religious meaning but now exhibited at other museums, and so missing from the Đồng Dương gallery display, lies at the root of the problem here. The problem is compounded by another fact that the missing objects are not mentioned in the gallery, part of a more general dearth of discursive presentation of the reasoning behind the curatorial layout. This is not just a case of context having been sacrificed to aesthetics. The shape and limits of the museological interpretation is driven by the dispersal of the temple’s materials across the globe, the current lack of prospects for their restitution, and curatorial hesitation to address such thorny issues. Curating an exhibition is not only about installing objects but also about providing “information about what is installed”.49 One path for improvement of the current display of the Đồng Dương gallery at the Cham Museum would be to diversify information formats and content so as to provide more contextual information on the sculptures on view. Also, the display of reproductions as a substitute for sculptures now in the collections of overseas museums, may be considered if attempts at repatriation of missing sculptures are unsuccessful. No less importantly, the question of repatriation for the missing ones may be incorporated into text panels within the gallery so as to openly address this museological challenge. A large number of Champa artefacts were collected by the French, both EFEO scholars and colonial administrators, in the early part of the

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20th century and have remained abroad since. In the case of the Đồng Dương Buddhist sculptures, one may question whether the EFEO archaeologists had the right to sell some of these artefacts. There has been little effort on the side of Vietnam in the repatriation of Champa sculptures whereas the Cambodian government has successfully claimed the return of many Khmer artefacts, particularly statues from the Prasat Chen temple in Koh Ker, which was looted in the 1970s (see Chea, Muong and Tythacott, chapter 3).50 The Guimet Museum of Asian Art has also returned the head of Harihara to the National Museum in Phnom Penh, so that the head and body of this sacred statue could be united after nearly 130 years of separation.51 The return of Khmer artefacts to Cambodia by overseas museums, art dealers and auction houses has shown the willingness of international communities to deal with the issue of cultural repatriation. It is hoped that this chapter will further raise awareness of this issue for museums with Champa artefacts, both inside and outside Vietnam, to enable us to improve the display of Champa art in Vietnam in the future.

Notes 1 2

3

4 5

6

7

The full name is also shortened to the Cham Museum. Henri Parmentier (1871–1949) was a French architect and archaeologist who worked for the École française d’Extrême-Orient since 1900. He surveyed and excavated many Champa sites in central Vietnam, noticeably Đồng Dương in 1902 and Mỹ Sơn in 1903–04. See also Chapter 2. Champa is the predominant term used to refer to a federation of coastal polities populated largely by Austronesian speaking peoples that once extended throughout the central regions of present-day Vietnam. See Keith Taylor, “The Early Kingdoms,” in Cambridge History of Southeast Asia, ed. Nicholas Tarling (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 153–7; Charles Higham, The archaeology of mainland southeast Asia: from 10,000 BC to the fall of Angkor (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 297. This stele is currently preserved in the courtyard of the Bình Định Bắc Communal House, Bình Định Commune, Thăng Bình District, Quảng Nam Province. Karl-Heinz Golzio, Inscriptions of Campa (Germany: Shaker Verlag GmbH, 2004), 60–73; Trian Nguyen, “Lakśmīndralokeśvara, Main Deity of the Đồng Dương Monastery: A Masterpiece of Cham Art and a New Interpretation,” Artibus Asiae 65, no. 1 (2005): 5, 9–11; Anne-Valerie Schweyer, Ancient Vietnam: History, Art and Archaeology (Bangkok: River Books, 2011), 54–5. Pierre Baptiste, Simon Delobel, and Jérôme Ghesquière, Missions archéologiques françaises au Vietnam: les monuments du Champa: photographies et itinéraires, 1902–1904 (Paris: Indes savantes: Etablissement public du Musée des arts asiatiques-Guimet, 2005), 91–183. Emmanuel Guillon, Cham Art: Treasures from the Da Nang Museum, Vietnam (Bangkok: River Books, 2001), 37–9; Henri Parmentier, Inventaire Descriptif

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des Monuments Čams de l’Annam, Tome I (Paris: Leroux, 1909), 439–505; Henri Parmentier, Inventaire Descriptif des Monuments Čams de l’Annam, Planches (Paris: Leroux, 1909), 113–6. 8 This pedestal is currently accessioned by the Museum of Cham Sculpture as [BTC 177+178-22.25]. The old accession number is [22.5]. New accession numbers are configured in this way: [BTC New number – Old number]. 9 A fragment of a statue shows a seated Buddha, with his hands in the gesture of highest enlightenment (bodhyagri mudra). This probably portrays Vairocana, and it is assumed that the central temple inside enclosure I was dedicated to this Buddhist deity. See Anne-Valérie Schweyer, “Buddhism in Campa,” Moussons, no. 13–14 (2009), http://moussons.revues.org/810 (accessed 20 Aug. 2019). 10 Its new accession number is [BTC 168+169-22.24]. 11 Parmentier, Inventaire, Planches, plate XCIX, 114; Schweyer, Ancient Vietnam, 194–9; Guillon, Cham Art, 36–9. 12 Schweyer, Ancient Vietnam, 55. 13 Nguyen, Lakśmīndralokeśvara, 5–6; Pierre Baptiste and Thiery Zephir, eds., La sculpture du Champa: Trésors d’art du Vietnam Ve-XVe siècles (Paris: Réunion Des Musées Nationaux, 2005), 210–1. This exquisite female bronze has triggered a debate over its identity, Tara or Laksmindra-Lokesvara as seen from the object label. One hypothesis is that the statue was the main icon placed on the top of the pedestal [BTC 168+169-22.24] (group 1). 14 This is an open traffic pattern, so visitors can walk through the gallery in the other direction, starting with group 1a, then continuing with 1, 2, 3, 4 and finishing at the photographic exhibit. 15 Brian O’Doherty, Inside the White Cube: The Ideology of the Gallery Space (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999), 15. 16 Louise Tythacott, “Curating the Sacred: Exhibiting Buddhism at World Museum Liverpool,” Buddhist Studies Review 34, no. 1 (2017): 116. 17 Christoph Grunenberg, “The Modern Art Museum,” in Contemporary Cultures of Display, ed. E. Barker (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999), 25–49; Wim de Wit, “When museums were white: A study of the museum as building type,” in Architecture for Art: American Art Museums, 1938–2008, ed. S.J Tilden (New York: Abrams, 2004), 11–5. 18 Evelyn Lip, Chinese Temples and Deities (Singapore: Times Books International, 1986), 17. 19 Carol Duncan, Civilizing Rituals: Inside Public Art Museums (London and New York: Routledge, 1995), 7. 20 Ivan Gaskell, “Sacred to Profane and Back Again,” in Arts and its Publics: Museum Studies at the Millennium, ed. A. McClellan (London: Blackwell, 2003), 149–51; Svetlana Alpers, “The museum as a way of seeing,” in Exhibiting cultures: the poetics and politics of museum display, ed. Ivan Karp and Steven Lavine (Washington and London: Smithsonian Institution, 1991), 27–9. 21 Elliot Kai-Kee, “A Brief History of Teaching in Art Museums,” in Teaching in the Art Museum: Interpretation as Experience, ed. Rika Burnham and Elliot Kai-Kee (Los Angeles: The J. Paul Getty Museum, 2011), 21. 22 It is proposed that the term “Champa” be applied when addressing aspects of the ancient Champa kingdoms, such as Champa art (sculptures and temples), Champa inscription, Champa inhabitants; whereas “Chăm” (or Cham) should be used to denote the Chăm ethnicity, their people and language in present-day south-central Vietnam. However, the two terms “Cham” and “Champa” are still used interchangeably by scholars.

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23

Julian Richard Brown, “The Field of Ancient Cham Art in France: a 20th century creation – A study of museological and colonial context from the late 19th century to the present” (London: SOAS University of London, 2013). Unpublished PhD dissertation, 367–8. 24 Baptiste and Zephir, La sculpture du Champa, 224–7; Guillon, Cham Art, 97. 25 John Guy, Lost Kingdoms: Hindu-Buddhist Sculpture of Early Southeast Asia (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2014), 248–9. 26 Journal des fouilles du sanctuaire de Đồng Dương (Periode du 7 Sept. au 27 Nov. 1902), Archive of The National History Museum in Hồ Chí Minh city; Trần Kỳ Phương, Võ Văn Thắng, and Peter Sharrock, eds., Vibrancy in Stone: Masterpieces of the Đà Nẵng Museum, 177; Baptiste, Delobel, and Ghesquière, Missions archéologiques, 116–8; See EFEO photo archive at http://collection.efeo.fr/ws/web/app/collection/record/237759?vc=ePkH4LF7 w6yelGA1iJGpMTD24V5CTpBG5qbQOpGU1INWf5oZWSphL7xQsjGJy RndEgMjtNrcGLcNWBMDAPEWYNM$ (accessed 27 Aug. 2019). 27 Parmentier, Inventaire, Tome I, 462–3, 484; Parmentier, Inventaire, Planches, Plate XCIX; Jean Boisselier, “Les sculptures de Dong Duong du Museum Rietberg de Zurich,” Artibus Asiae 26, no. 2 (1963): 132–50; Guy, Lost Kingdoms, 248–9; Guillon, Cham Art, 97. Parmentier made a mistake when he identified these statues as Shiva due to the third eye on the forehead. 28 Close observation shows that the Cham Museum’s statue is the most intact among this group of Devas though it was re-assembled from two fragments. The loin cloth of the deity also shows complete decorative motifs while others seem to be unfinished. 29 Eduard von der Heydt (1882–1964) was a German-Swiss banker and art collector. The Rietberg Museum was founded in 1952 thanks to the donation of his collection. 30 Jan Fontein, The Art of Southeast Asia: The Collection of Museum Rietberg (Paul Holberton Publishing, 2007), 40–2. Guy, Lost Kingdoms, 250. 31 Baptiste, Delobel, and Ghesquière, Missions archéologiques, 104. See EFEO photo archives: http://collection.efeo.fr/ws/web/app/collection/record/252619? vc=ePkH4LF7w6yelGA1iJGBGTD24V5CTpBG5qbQOpGU1INWf5oZWSp hL7xQsjGJyRndEgMjtNrcGLcNWBMDAO8HYNE$ (accessed 27 Aug. 2019). 32 Helmut Brinker and Eberhard Fischer, Treasures from the Rietberg Museum (New York: Asia Society in association with J. Weatherhill, 1980), 68. 33 Parmentier, Inventaire - Tome I, 501–3; Parmentier, Journal des fouilles du sanctuaire de Đồng Dương, 18 and 22 Nov.; Baptiste, Delobel, and Ghesquière, Missions archéologiques, 128–9. 34 “Activités du musée national des Arts asiatiques-Guimet,” Arts Asiatiques, Tome 59 (2004), 141. 35 Pierre Baptiste, “L’art Cham au Musée Guimet de Paris,” SACHA, no. 9 (Dec. 2002): 8. 36 Personal communication with Mr Nguyễn Hồ, museum staff at the Department of Conservation, on 25 Feb. 2015. 37 See Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property. Paris, 14 November 1970, UNESCO, http://www.unesco.org/eri/la/convention.asp?KO=13039 (accessed 17 April 2018). 38 The UNIDROIT Convention on Stolen or Illegally Exported Cultural Objects has been translated into Vietnamese by the Department of Cultural Heritage,

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39 40 41 42

43

44 45

46 47

48 49 50

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but Vietnam has not yet ratified this convention. Personal communication with a staff of the Department of Cultural Heritage on 5 January 2020. See the Law on Cultural Heritage of Vietnam, http://dsvh.gov.vn/ luat-di-san-van-hoa-1644 (accessed 15 January 2020). Louise Tythacott and Kostas Arvanitis, “Museum and Restitution: An Introduction,” in Museums and Restitution: New Approaches, New Practices, ed. Louise Tythacott and Kostas Arvanitis (Farnham: Ashgate, 2014), 2. Queen Mother Từ Minh was the mother of King Thành Thái (1879–1954). See Tuổi Trẻ News, “Royal rickshaw comes home, to be displayed in central Vietnam,” Tuổi Trẻ News, 20 Apr. 2015, https://tuoitrenews.vn/ lifestyle/27573/royal-rickshaw-comes-home-to-be-displayed-in-centralvietnam (accessed 18 May 2018). The rickshaw was bought at the cost of €55,800 including organisation fees. The government of Thừa Thiên-Huế paid €42,800 and the rest was offered by local businesses in Vietnam and overseas Vietnamese, following the fundraising call of the Vietnamese Embassy in France. See Đại Dương, “Việt Nam chi 1 tỷ đồng đưa xe kéo tay của vua Thành Thái về nước [Vietnam spent one billion VND to bring King Thành Thái’s rickshaw back home],” Trung Tâm Bảo tồn Di tích Cố đô Huế, 7 Apr. 2015, http://www.huedisan. com.vn/TTBTDTCDH.aspx?TieuDeID=9&KenhID=0&ChuDeID=0&T inTucID=2195&l=vn (accessed 10 May 2018). Built in 1803 under the Nguyễn dynasty, Diên Thọ Palace was the residence of Queen Mother at Huế Imperial city. Đại Dương, “Huế đã mất lượng cổ vật lớn như thế nào [How Huế has lost a large number of antiquities]?” Dân Trí, 3 Dec. 2015, http://dantri.com.vn/ van-hoa/ky-2-hue-da-mat-luong-co-vat-lon-nhu-thenao-20151203092850179.htm (accessed 17 Apr. 2018). Interview with the Director of Museum of Royal Antiquities, 24 Dec. 2017. Stefan Tamon, “Return of illegally exported cultural property to Vietnam,” German Practice in International Law, 22 May 2018, https://gpil.jura. uni-bonn.de/2018/05/return-illegally-exported-cultural-property-vietnam/ (accessed 15 July 2019). Parul Pandya Dhar, “Đồng Dương at the intersection of Asian Cultures,” in Asian Encounters: Exploring Connected Histories, ed. Upinder Singh and Parul Pandya Dhar (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2014), 111–36. Alpers, “The Museum as a Way of Seeing,” 29. “Return of six of the nine statues looted from Cambodia,” UNESCO, http://www.unesco.org/new/en/culture/themes/illicit-trafficking-ofcultural-property/other-cases-of-return-or-restitution-of-cultural-objects/ cambodia/ (accessed 17 April 2018). See News Wires, “France returns stolen head of Hindu statue to Cambodia, 130 years on,” France 24, 21 Jan. 2016, http://www.france24.com/ en/20160121-france-returns-head-stolen-harihara-statue-cambodia-130years-ago (accessed 4 May 2018).

References 1970 Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property, http://portal. unesco.org/en/ev.php-URL_ID=13039&URL_DO=DO_TOPIC&URL_ SECTION=201.html.

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“Activités du musée national des Arts asiatiques-Guimet.” Arts Asiatiques, Tome 59 (2004): 134–48. Alpers, Svetlana. “The Museum as a Way of seeing.” In Exhibiting cultures: the poetics and politics of museum display, edited by Ivan Karp and Steven Lavine, 27–9. Washington and London: Smithsonian Institution, 1991. Baptiste, Pierre. “L’art Cham au Musée Guimet de Paris.” SACHA, no. 9 (Dec. 2002): 3–20. Baptiste, Pierre, Simon Delobel, and Jérôme Ghesquière. Missions archéologiques françaises au Vietnam: les monuments du Champa: photographies et itinéraires, 1902–1904. Paris: Indes savantes: Etablissement public du Musée des arts asiatieques-Guimet, 2005. Baptiste, Pierre and Thiery Zephir, eds. La sculpture du Champa: Trésors d’art du Vietnam Ve-XVe siècles. Paris: Réunion Des Musées Nationaux, 2005. Boisselier, Jean. “Les sculptures de Dong Duong du Museum Rietberg de Zurich.” Artibus Asiae 26, no. 2 (1963): 132–50. Brinker, Helmut and Eberhard Fischer. Treasures from the Rietberg Museum. New York: Asia Society in association with J. Weatherhill, 1980. Brown, Julian Richard. “The Field of Ancient Cham Art in France: a 20th century creation – A study of museological and colonial context from the late 19th century to the present”. London: SOAS University of London, 2013. Unpublished PhD dissertation. Dhar, Parul Pandya. “Buddhism, Art and Ritual Practice: Đồng Dương at the intersection of Asian Cultures.” In Asian Encounters: Exploring Connected Histories, edited by Upinder Singh and Parul Pandya Dhar, 111–36. Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2014. Duncan, Carol. Civilizing Rituals: Inside Public Art Museums. London and New York: Routledge, 1995. Dương, Đại. “Việt nam chi 1 tỷ đồng đưa xe kéo tay của vua Thành Thái về nước [Vietnam spent one billion VND to bring King Thành Thái’s rickshaw back home.” Trung Tâm Bảo tồn Di tích Cố đô Huế, 7 Apr. 2015. http://www.huedisan.com.vn/TTBTDTCDH. aspx? TieuDeID=9&KenhI D=0&ChuDeID=0&TinTucID=2195&l=vn (accessed 10 May 2018). ___ . “Huế đã mất lượng cổ vật lớn như thế nào?” Dân Trí, 3 Dec. 2015. http:// dantri.com.vn/van-hoa/ky-2-hue-da-mat-luong-co-vat-lon-nhu-thenao-20151203092850179.htm (accessed 17 Apr. 2018). EFEO photo archive. http://collection.efeo.fr/ws/web/app/collection/record/2526 19?vc=ePkH4LF7w6yelGA1iJGBGTD24V5CTpBG5qbQOpGU1INWf5o ZWSphL7xQsj GJyRndEgMjtNrcGLcNWBMDAO8HYNE$ (accessed 27 Aug. 2019). EFEO photo archive. http://collection.efeo.fr/ws/web/app/collection/record/2377 59?vc=ePkH4LF7w6yelGA1iJGpMTD24V5CTpBG5qbQOpGU1INWf5 oZ WSphL7xQsjGJyRndEgMjtNrcGLcNWBMDAPEWYNM$ (accessed 27 Aug. 2019). Fontein, Jan. The Art of Southeast Asia: The Collection of Museum Rietberg. Paul Holberton Publishing, 2007. Gaskell, Ivan. “Sacred to Profane and Back Again.” In Art and its Publics: Museum Studies at the Millennium, edited by A. McClellan, 149–51. London: Blackwell, 2003. Golzio, Karl-Heinz. Inscriptions of Campa. Germany: Shaker Verlag GmbH, 2004.

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Grunenberg, Christoph. “The Modern Art Museum.” In Contemporary Cultures of Display, edited by E. Barker, 26–49. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999. Guillon, Emmanuel. Cham Art: Treasures from the Da Nang Museum, Vietnam. Bangkok: River Books, 2001. Guy, John. Lost Kingdoms: Hindu-Buddhist Sculpture of Early Southeast Asia. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2014. Higham, Charles. The archaeology of mainland southeast Asia: from 10,000 BC to the fall of Angkor. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989. Journal des fouilles du sanctuaire de Đồng Dương (Periode du 7 Sept. au 27 Nov. 1902), Archives of The National History Museum in Hồ Chí Minh City. Kai-Kee, Elliot. “A Brief History of Teaching in Art Museums.” In Teaching in the Art Museum: Interpretation as Experience, edited by Rika Burnham and Elliot Kai-Kee, 19–58. Los Angeles: The J. Paul Getty Museum, 2011. Law on Cultural Heritage of Vietnam, http://dsvh.gov.vn/luat-di-san-vanhoa-1644 (accessed 15 Jan. 2020). Lip, Evelyn. Chinese Temples and Deities. Singapore: Times Books International, 1986. News Wires. “France returns stolen head of Hindu statue to Cambodia, 130 years on.” France 24, 21 Jan. 2016. http://www.france24.com/en/20160121france-returns-head-stolen-harihara-statue-cambodia-130-years-ago (accessed 4 May 2018). Nguyen, Trian. “Lakśmīndralokeśvara, Main Deity of the Đồng Dương Monastery: A Masterpiece of Cham Art and a New Interpretation.” Artibus Asiae 65, no. 1 (2005): 5–38. O’Doherty, Brian. Inside the White Cube: The Ideology of the Gallery Space. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999. Parmentier, Henri. Inventaire Descriptif des Monuments Čams de l’Annam, Planches. Paris: Leroux, 1909. ___ . Inventaire Descriptif des Monuments Čams de l’Annam, Tome I. Paris: Leroux, 1909. Schweyer, Anne-Valérie. “Buddhism in Campa.” Moussons, no. 13–4 (2009). http://moussons.revues.org/810 (accessed 20 Aug. 2019). ___ . Ancient Vietnam: History, Art and Archaeology. Bangkok: River Books, 2011. Tamon, Stefan. “Return of illegally exported cultural property to Vietnam.” German Practice in International Law 22 May 2018, https://gpil.jura. uni-bonn.de/2018/05/return-illegally-exported-cultural-property-vietnam/ (accessed 15 July 2019). Taylor, Keith. “The Early Kingdoms.” In Cambridge History of Southeast Asia, edited by Nicholas Tarling, 153–7. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992. Trần, Kỳ Phương, Võ Văn Thắng, and Peter Sharrock, eds. Vibrancy in Stone: Masterpieces of the Đà Nẵng Museum. Bangkok: River Books, 2017. Tuoi Tre News. “Royal rickshaw comes home, to be displayed in central Vietnam.” Tuổi Trẻ News, 20 Apr. 2015. https://tuoitrenews.vn/lifestyle/27573/ royal-rickshaw-comes-home-to-be-displayed-in-central-vietnam (accessed 18 May 2018). Tythacott, Louise and Kostas Arvanitis. “Museums and Restitution: An Introduction.” In Museums and Restitution: New Practices, New Approaches, edited by Louise Tythacott and Kostas Arvanitis, 1–16. Farnham: Ashgate, 2014.

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Tythacott, Louise. “Curating the Sacred: Exhibiting Buddhism at World Museum Liverpool.” Buddhist Studies Review 34, no. 1 (2017): 115–33. UNESCO, “Return of six of the nine statues looted from Cambodia.” UNESCO. http://www.unesco.org/new/en/culture/themes/illicit-trafficking-of-culturalproperty/other-cases-of-return-or-restitution-of-cultural-objects/cambodia/ (accessed 17 Apr. 2018). Wit, Wim de. “When museums were white: A study of the museum as building type.” In Architecture for Art: American Art Museums, 1938–2008, edited by S.J. Tilden, 11–5. New York: Abrams, 2004.

Chapter 7

RESTITUTION AND NATIONAL HERITAGE: (ART) HISTORICAL TRAJECTORIES OF RADEN SALEH’S PAINTINGS Panggah Ardiyansyah

INTRODUCTION The narrative for repatriated objects, particularly in Southeast Asia, has often been framed as the return of a nation’s cultural heritage. For example, in the highly media-covered case of the Prasat Chen sculptures from Cambodia, the call for repatriation and the returns in 2013–16 have been presented as bringing home once-lost cultural property to its rightful place.1 By producing such a narrative, Cambodia contested the sculptures’ Western ownership, and this subsequently resulted in their transfer to Cambodia (see Chea, Muong and Tythacott, chapter 3). In response to this justification, James Cuno, for example, has rejected such proclamations by arguing that antiquities, as artefacts of an already extinct culture, are used by modern nations to strengthen their claims on power.2 In this regard, it is thus reasonable to argue against such claims, which are merely based on the fact that these ancient artefacts happen to be found in their modern-day territories.3 While Cuno’s argument is true to an extent, it is an oversimplification to dismiss object restitution as such. Further considerations should be taken into account in viewing the relation between returned/claimed objects and national/cultural heritage. However, in this chapter it is not my intention to make a case for, or against, the repatriation of objects to their countries of origin. What I am suggesting here is that a deeper look into the connection between the objects and their attribution as heritage – as well as their relationships to the process of identity-making – will be instrumental in better understanding why such claims persist and why countries in Southeast Asia and Western museums should open up dialogue around the issue of restitution.

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Fig. 7.1 Friedrich Carl Albert Schreuel (attributed to), Portrait of Raden Syarif Bustaman Saleh, c. 1840, oil on canvas, 106.7 x 85.3 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam (Source: www. rijksmuseum.nl).

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With regard to this inquiry, several questions arise, such as what actually renders the connection between repatriated objects and their heritage status, and is it merely a means for the legitimation of power? What kinds of attributes are accorded to objects for such designations? Are processes of heritage-isation authorised by the state or are they community-driven? If it is the former, how does the state deliver the narratives and how have communities responded? And, more importantly, is this attribution a cause for repatriation claims/actions, or is it the other way around? I will discuss these issues in relation to a particular case study from Indonesia, which witnessed the movements of paintings made by a local artist. While the return of Hindu-Buddhist antiquities – notably, ones originating from the eighth to 13th centuries – to their countries of origin has dominated both academic and wider media discourses, particularly in Southeast Asia, paintings made by a Javanese artist, Raden Saleh (1807–80), provide another look into the discussions surrounding object restitution.4 I hope that by moving away from an already loaded discussion of the return of ancient cultural objects and by opting to explore the distribution of 19th-century art, I can present a different articulation of the discussion of restitution in Southeast Asia. It should be noted that here I consider restitution in a much broader sense – where the moved object could be termed as repatriated, returned, transferred, gifted, or even bought, as long as the movement placed the object physically inside its geographical origin. In addition, I will conflate the term “heritage” and “treasure” throughout the following discussion in order to reflect on how those two terms are interchangeable in the popular media as well as in official statements. But before tracing the transfers and subsequent social lives of two of Raden Saleh’s paintings – The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro (1857) and The Portrait of Daendels (1838) – it is imperative to understand who the artist was, especially to see how his persona shifted based on the trajectories of his paintings. Born into an aristocratic family in Terboyo, north-east of Semarang, Raden Saleh Sjarif Bustaman – or known in short as Raden Saleh (see Fig. 7.1) – had demonstrated an ability to paint from an early age. His talent was recognised by Antoine August Joseph Payen (1792– 1853), a Belgian painter who was employed by the colonial administration to document Java, as well as other islands in the East Indies, through drawings, sketches, and topographical maps.5 Between 1817 and 1829, Saleh stayed on Cianjur and Bogor in West Java to study drawing and painting closely with Payen, under the patronage of the colonial authority.6 Deemed a gifted student, he was subsequently sent to the Netherlands to receive an intensive education in painting. Arriving in The Hague around 1829/30, he spent the next 25 years in Europe, most of which in the Netherlands – predominantly in The Hague – with brief, yet

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fruitful, stays in Düsseldorf, Frankfurt, Berlin, Dresden, Coburg, and Paris.7 As his stay was financially supported by the King of the Netherlands, Saleh was placed under the supervision of Jean Chrétien Baud (1789–1859), then Minister of Colonies, who would become his life-long patron, playing a significant role in Saleh’s career. In Europe, Saleh learned portrait painting from Cornelis Kruseman (1797–1857), a well-known Dutch painter – a particular skill which would be useful in securing him close relationships with colonial and local powers. He was also taught by Andreas Schelfhout (1787–1870), a Dutch painter renowned for his landscape paintings. Furthermore, Saleh managed to secure royal patronage not only in the Netherlands but also in other regions in Europe, most notably from King Willem I of the Netherlands (r. 1815–40), King Willem II of the Netherlands (r. 1840–49), King Willem III of the Netherlands (r. 1849–90), King Friedrich August II of Saxony (r. 1836–54), Duke Ernst I of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha (r. 1826– 44), Duke Ernst II of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha (r. 1844–93), and Emperor Joseph of Austria (r. 1848–1916).8 It was in Dresden where he discovered a preference for the Romantic genre, particularly with exposure to wild animals which prompted him to paint exotic and oriental themes, such as his famous Lion Hunt (completed in 1840).9 Meanwhile, perhaps to play to the exoticist and sensationalist perceptions that surrounded his persona, he presented himself as an oriental prince.10 In 1851, he finally decided to go back to Java and he spent the rest of his life there, except when he was briefly back in Europe with his family between 1875 and 1878. He died on 23 April 1880 following the death of his wife and was buried under a gravestone incised with a highly celebratory inscription, which praises his position as the painter for the Kings of the Netherlands as well as the royal orders he accepted from Luxemburg, Austria, Saxony, and Saxe-Coburg.11 THE ARREST OF PRINCE DIPONEGORO (1857) The only-known historical painting made by Raden Saleh, Ein historisches Tableau, die Gefangennahme des javanischen Häuptlings Diepo Negoro (“A historic tableau of the arrest of the Javanese headman Diepo Negoro”), hereafter The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro (see Fig. 7.2), was completed in 1857 and is presumed to have been created to commemorate Prince Diponegoro’s death in 1855.12 It should be noted that in 19th-century Europe, the genre of historical painting was considered paramount due to its complexity both in terms of content and aesthetics.13 Hence, The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro can be seen as the peak of Raden Saleh’s career, and upon its completion was presented to King Willem III of the Netherlands, who in 1851 had awarded the artist with the title “King’s Painter”. The

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painting itself depicts the capture of Diponegoro (1785–1855), the leader of the Java War (1825–30), by a Dutch army general, Hendrik Merkus de Kock (1779–1845) in Magelang, Central Java. It enjoyed brief celebrity status when exhibited alongside Saleh’s other paintings for the International Colonial and Export exhibition in Amsterdam in 1883.14 Placed in the Dutch colonial section, it was hung in a hall which contained works showcasing tropical landscapes by contemporary European painters, most notably Saleh’s first mentor, A.A.J. Payen.15 However, when The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro passed into the possession of the Dutch royal family, it gradually fell into a much less prominent existence, especially after the painting was kept in one of the Dutch royal palaces long before it was loaned to the trofeengalerij van het Koninklijk Koloniaal Militair Invalidenhuis (gallery of trophies of the Royal Colonial Military Veterans Home Bronbeek) in 1967.16 In Bronbeek, the painting was praised as it is – a portrayal of the capture of Diponegoro. Due to the financial costs and long-term instability created by the Java War, this historic episode epitomised one of the great colonial military achievements in the East Indies, hence the painting’s display at

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Fig. 7.2 Raden Saleh Sjarif Bustaman, Penangkapan Pangeran Diponegoro ("The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro"), 1857, oil on canvas, 112 x 179 cm, Koleksi Istana Kepresidenan Republik Indonesia (Palace Collection).

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the trophy gallery of a military museum. As such, Diponegoro was considered a rebellious figure by the Dutch, and this view was taught to Indonesian-born students – who later formed a group of early nationalists – in the beginning of the 20th century. Notwithstanding, Diponegoro is of great importance in the official narrative of Indonesian modern history, especially under the Suharto regime (1966–98). His capture – as depicted in The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro – is famous as a key example of colonial treachery and as such today is often enacted in theatrical performance to appeal to a sense of patriotism in the younger generation.17 While his original motives might have differed, Diponegoro – or rather his historical image – was used by nationalist figures to create an origin story for Indonesia’s struggle for independence. In the making of a unified national identity from the early 20th century, particularly when the Dutch saw Diponegoro as an antagonistic and much-hated figure, the nation’s founding fathers perceived and presented him as a great hero.18 In addition, in 1967 he was included in an official list of Pahlawan Nasional (“National Heroes”), a list first created by the Indonesian government in 1959 to project the idea of patriotism.19 Tellingly, the figures of Pahlawan Nasional do not need elaborate explanation other than affirmation that they “existed and were great – that was enough”, and the same is especially true for Diponegoro.20 The clearest instance comes from his former family residence in Tegalrejo, Yogyakarta, which, even though it has been transformed into a museum, only a few people visit daily or are even aware of its existence. In contrast, Diponegoro statues, built to memorialise his presence within Indonesia’s history, continue to be erected in multiple cities in Indonesia, particularly in the regions where he fought the battles against Dutch armies.21 Altered to conform to the image of Pahlawan Nasional, the state-endorsed rendering of collective memory for Diponegoro was construed by ignoring the account of his brutality towards the village chiefs who assisted the colonial authority.22 What is pertinent here is that the remembrance of a patriotic Diponegoro has been used to formulate Indonesian national identity, and in so doing, this collective memory provides a potent emotive agency for society, especially when materialised into a concrete tangible representation.23 As evident from this historical context, it is no surprise that Indonesia requested various objects, such as Diponegoro’s stirrups and spear, be handed back by the Netherlands when the early 1970s saw an increasing focus on the return of cultural objects to Indonesia.24 These discussions resulted in the 1976 “Joint Recommendations by the Dutch and Indonesian Team of Experts Concerning Cultural Cooperation in the Fields of Museums and Archives including Transfer of Objects” which outlined the kind of objects that should be returned.25 However, it seems

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that The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro was not included in the original request, as the text of the 1976 Joint Recommendations stated that the Dutch government should transfer objects belonging to Diponegoro, for the obvious reason that the painting was not previously owned by the prince himself. The request for the Dutch royal family to give up its ownership was made later when preparations for object transfers were still ongoing. Here, Adam Malik, then Indonesian Minister of Foreign Affairs, played a vital part in the process. In 1977 he requested that the painting should be included as part of the transfers. Highlighted by the visit of Koesnadi Hardjasoemantri (1928–2007) – the Education and Cultural Attaché at the time – to Bronbeek, the government of Indonesia had successfully argued for the painting’s inclusion into the ongoing project of cultural object transfer.26 Reflecting on this particular event, Hardjasoemantri wrote in 1996 that the request was warranted since

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Fig. 7.3 Nicolaas Pieneman, De onderwerping van den Diepo Negoro aan luitenant-generaal baron De Kock, 1835, oil on canvas, 77 x 100 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam (Source: www. rijksmuseum.nl).

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Diponegoro in Radeh Saleh’s painting is arguably cast more heroically in contrast with a similar painting made by Nicolaas Pieneman (1809–60) titled De onderwerping van den Diepo Negoro aan luitenant-generaal baron De Kock (“The Submission of the Rebel Leader Diepo Negoro to Liutenant General De Kock”) – hereafter The Submission (see Fig. 7.3) – which glorifies the power of the Dutch East Indies over a passive Diponegoro.27 This comparison would turn out to be a vital instrument in presenting The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro to the public in recent years, though it should be noted that Hardjasoemantri is not the first to offer such evaluation. Nonetheless, this state-endorsed patriotic interpretation of The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro was not necessarily shared by the wider public in Indonesia before and during the transfer of the painting. This was because both the painting and Raden Saleh’s “Indonesian-ness” was constantly in question due to Saleh’s life-long patronage from Dutch royal families and the Dutch East Indies administration. His immediate proximity to 19th-century European culture and close personal relations with the colonial authorities were difficult to reconcile with the rendering of his persona and paintings as patriotic. Of particular interest, the presentation of The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro to King Willem III of the Netherlands was considered a non-nationalistic gesture, conforming to the power relations between an artist/servant and his patron/king.28 Meanwhile, during his career, Sindudarsono Sudjojono (1913–86) – a prominent artist who is seen by many to have fathered Indonesian modern art through the co-founding of PERSAGI (Persatuan Ahli-Ahli Gambar Indonesia/Association of Indonesian Painters) in 1938 – was highly critical of Raden Saleh and particularly The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro. He also made a painting of Prince Diponegoro in 1979, titled Pasukan Kita yang Dipimpin Pangeran Diponegoro (“Our Soldiers Led by Prince Diponegoro”), stating that “I’m not of the opinion that a native painter, born from Indonesian soil, should paint one of our heroes at a time he was captured by the Dutch, in a state of inferiority and weakness”.29 These views resulted in an anxiety among local Indonesian artists about presenting Raden Saleh as a pioneer embracing painting as an artistic genre – though this assertion has been widely accepted today. On the other hand, it seems that a celebratory image of Raden Saleh was more pronounced in the Netherlands through articles in the Dutchlanguage newspapers. Algemeen Indisch dagblad: De Preangerbode no. 160 (4 December 1952) reported that Sukarno (1901–70), the first president of Indonesia who had declared Indonesia’s independence in 1945, was appalled by the state of Saleh’s uncared for grave and ordered it to be renovated.30 Subsequently Java-bode no. 320 (8 September 1953) detailed the official ceremony held after the completion of this project,

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where Sukarno lauded Raden Saleh as “one of our great sons”.31 Here Saleh was revered as a nationalist and successful artist due to his arguably patriotic depiction of the capture of Diponegoro, which complemented the productions of his best-known paintings, such as Boschbrand (“Forest Fire”) and A Buffalo Hunt in Java.32 This ceremony, coupled with the reproduction of two of Saleh’s paintings – Forest Fire and Fight between an African Buffalo and Two Lions – as postal stamps issued in October 1967, and the award of Piagam Anugerah Seni (“Art Award Certificate”) by the Indonesian government in 1969, was essential in framing Raden Saleh as a celebrated national hero.33 Alert to this important state rhetoric, the Dutch government, through Queen Juliana, presented two of Saleh’s paintings in 1970 to Suharto (1921–2008) – who replaced Sukarno as president of Indonesia in 1967 – when he made an official visit to the Netherlands in an attempt to open new chapters of the previously tense bilateral relationship, setting a precedent for the transfer of Saleh’s other paintings to Indonesia.34 Accordingly, after the necessary arrangements were made, The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro, along with other objects belonging to Diponegoro, were formally presented to Indonesia between June 1977 and April 1978.35 The painting in particular was recognised as a royal gift to the nation of Indonesia, highlighting the Dutch acceptance of the importance of this painting to the Indonesian people.36 In comparison with other transfers, this transfer is worth emphasising: it differed from other returned objects because its legal ownership was never in dispute, even though both countries eventually agreed that the painting should be part of Indonesian heritage. This case shows that object restitution is less about contesting legality and more about attaching emotional value. In this sense, the exhibition of The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro, as part of the Java War gallery to celebrate 200 years of the National Museum of Indonesia in 1978 – straight after the ownership swap – was telling especially because the war was projected as one of the most important battles against colonialism on Indonesian soil. On the other hand, a closer look at this episode reveals that it was in effect a private exchange between a Dutch (royal) family and an individual, Suharto – albeit in his position at the time as the president of Indonesia.37 This is because, once in Indonesia, the painting was included in the Koleksi Istana Kepresidenan Republik Indonesia (hereafter Palace Collection). This collection was constructed from the personal collection of Sukarno and is nominally defined as the “Palace Collection” because it had been stored and displayed at the presidential palaces since 1949. This occurred when the seat of power in Jakarta was transferred from the colonial government to the newly-founded nation of Indonesia, and its president started to reside in buildings once used by governor-generals of

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the colonial government.38 While the collection was conceived from Sukarno’s idea of what Indonesian art should be – and contained many paintings from celebrated Indonesian artists such as Dullah (1919–96), Lee Man Fong (1913–88) and Basuki Abdullah (1915–93) – its designation as Palace Collection paradoxically limits access for most people to view the collection due to the high level of security afforded to the presidential buildings. In this regard, the collection is mainly enjoyed by the president’s family members who reside in the palaces. However, it should be said that limited public viewing does not mean that the Palace Collection has restricted functionality for the nation-state and its people. Through the publication of selected paintings in two luxury volumes in 1956 and 1964, the collection set the tone for later visual artistic developments within Indonesia.39 Meanwhile, right from the start, it has been used as a tool for international cultural diplomacy – a showcase of Indonesia’s artistic achievement to mostly foreign dignitaries.40 Appearing to serve the latter objective, The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro was stored at the Merdeka Palace, Jakarta, before being displayed today at Gedung Agung, one of the presidential palaces located in Yogyakarta. In addition, after the arrival of The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro in Indonesia and especially since the turn of the 21st century, the accepted popular narrative is shifting to conform to nationalist values that have been endorsed by the state via its principal cultural apparatus, the National Gallery of Indonesia. In 2012, the gallery hosted an exhibition entitled Raden Saleh and the Beginning of Modern Indonesian Painting to commemorate 200 years of Raden Saleh. Notably, it was conceived a year after he was honoured with the award Bintang Mahaputra Adipradana (“Star for a Great Son”), which is second only to the most important status of Pahlawan Nasional. This landmark exhibition – coorganised with the Goethe-Institut and German Embassy Jakarta to show more than 40 paintings from domestic as well as foreign collections – was significant in disseminating a patriotic narrative of The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro vis-à-vis a nationalist rendering of Raden Saleh to the wider public. Visited by more than 20,000 visitors in 15 days, it received widespread coverage in printed magazines and online news outlets – and its success still echoes until today – with the painting being featured as the star of the show.41 Later, The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro made another public appearance – albeit only in reproduction – in an exhibition entitled A Prince of All Seasons: Diponegoro in the Memory of the Nation, From Raden Saleh to the Present in 2015, again at the National Gallery of Indonesia. In this later exhibition, the painting was the focal point in narrating the “embryo of national awareness”.42 In so doing, it is now synonymous with the struggle against colonialism. When the National Gallery of Indonesia refurbished its permanent exhibition in 2015, after

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the Diponegoro exhibition, the Raden Saleh gallery framed The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro within a nationalist narrative by putting a reproduction of Saleh’s The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro next to another reproduction of Pieneman’s The Submission. Longer summaries of both pieces, available for visitors through electronic media, gave allusions to the juxtaposition of Dutch treachery (Saleh’s) and colonial hegemony (Pieneman’s). Today this nationalist reading has been reified and the painting is celebrated as part of the national heritage of Indonesia. The National Gallery of Indonesia’s desire to project the patriotism of Saleh’s The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro is evident in an exhibition called Goresan Juang Kemerdekaan (“The Brushstrokes of the Indonesian Struggle”) in August 2017.43 Of note is that while this deliberation by the state apparatus is not new, the 2012 exhibition has successfully created a media frenzy over the painting as nationalist allegory. As reflected in the references used in this chapter, various online media have reiterated stories about the heroism depicted in the painting, making it easily accessible for the public. Every time The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro makes a public appearance, the story is recycled, reproduced and recirculated. Wide coverage of the patriotism depicted in the painting as narrated by the state, curators and art historians has caused the nationalist interpretation to be accepted as an established fact by the Indonesian community. Being accepted publicly as such and more importantly to officiate the heritageisation of The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro, the painting was officially inscribed on the list of national heritage compiled by the Ministry of Education and Culture in 2018.44 While the historical figure of Raden Saleh remains elusive today, worthy of note is that the “nationalising” of The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro after its transfer to Indonesia has intensified the state effort started by the Sukarno regime to elevate Raden Saleh’s status within Indonesian art history.45 The perceived image of a nationalist Saleh is now more easily accepted as the beginning of modern art in Indonesia because his supposed nationalism is conflated with the patriotic framework of The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro. Hence the audio-visual information in the Raden Saleh gallery at the National Gallery of Indonesia does not need a lengthy explanation to justify his achievement in pioneering the emergence of modern Indonesian art since his “Indonesian-ness” has not been questioned as frequently as before. As such, the recent purchase at an auction in Vannes, France, of Raden Saleh’s painting, La Casse au Taureau Sauvage (1855), by a private collector from Indonesia is portrayed as returning the painting to its home country.46 Furthermore, the accepted portrait of a nationalist Saleh has also influenced the ways in which many of his paintings are now being interpreted in Indonesia, mainly in terms of exhibiting a veiled support for the fight against colonial

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power.47 However, the shift in Raden Saleh’s image to both a patriot and pioneer does not necessarily translate into a call to transfer – or perhaps “return” – all of his paintings, now in the hands of the government of the Netherlands and its royal family, to Indonesia, as seen from the life of another of Saleh’s paintings below. THE POSTHUMOUS PORTRAIT OF HERMAN WILLEM DAENDELS (1838)

Fig. 7.4 Raden Saleh Sjarif Bustaman, Posthuum portret van Herman Willem Daendels (1762–1818). Gouvernor-generaal 1808–10, 1838, oil on canvas, 119 x 98 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam (Source: www. rijksmuseum.nl).

Posthuum portret van Herman Willem Daendels (1762–1818). Gouvernorgeneraal 1808–10 (“The Posthumous Portrait of Herman Willem Daendels [1762–1818] Governor-general 1808–10”), hereafter The Portrait of Daendels, was completed by Raden Saleh in 1838 (see Fig. 7.4). It is now part of the collection of the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. Made after Daendels’ death in 1818, it depicts a seated figure with a specific Javanese landscape in the background. Apparently it refers to the Megamendung area, which was part of De Groot Postweg (Great Post Road) built by Daendels, as indicated by his left index finger pointing to a map titled “Direction of the Road over Megamendong 1810”.48 With its hilly terrain and hard rocky material, Megamendung – located on the slope of Mount Pangrangro, West Java – was one of the most difficult routes to be constructed. As such, the painting is trying to appeal to onlookers as Daendels’ greatest achievement; not necessarily for the Megamendung route but rather the whole De Groot Postweg as an important, 1,000 km-long, colonial project that was finished within only one year. Even though the importance of the road was contested during its construction, it was hailed as a major infrastructural triumph by the Dutch once they were back in control of Java after the British interregnum (1811–16).49 Meanwhile, in recent scholarship, the construction of the Great Post Road is considered to be one of the beginnings of modernity in Java since its significance is far-reaching in terms of changing feudal traditions.50 The painting itself was made on the order of J.C. Baud, a long-time patron of Raden Saleh, when he was positioned as the ad interim governor-general of the Dutch East Indies from 1833–35. Baud requested three paintings of governor-generals of the Dutch East Indies: one of himself, one of Daendels and one of Johannes Graaf van den Bosch (1780–1844). These paintings were to complete the portrait gallery of governor-generals that commenced presumably from 1650. A Dutch painter from Leiden, Philips Angel (c. 1618–64), is believed to have started the tradition; when he stayed briefly on Batavia (present-day Jakarta), he painted portraits of the first ten governor-generals of Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie/Dutch East India Company (VOC).51 It is of note that the three paintings by Raden Saleh were

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7.4

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completed when he was still in the Netherlands as they were commissioned in 1837. Among the three figures painted, Daendels is considered the most important because he symbolises the transition from the VOC to the Dutch East Indies administration; from a state-endorsed company to an official governmental agency. The Portrait of Daendels arrived in Java in 1840, after spending some months in the hands of Daendels’ widow, Aleida Elisabeth Reiniera van Vlierden (1768–1848), presumably at Hattem in the eastern Netherlands.52 In Batavia, The Portrait of Daendels, along with other paintings in the portrait gallery, was displayed at the Rijswijk Palace (present-day Merdeka Palace, renamed in 1949). In 1942, the whole portrait gallery was evacuated to a sugar factory in East Java because of the Japanese invasion of Java, and was reinstalled in Batavia after Japan retreated from the Pacific War.53 Since the portraits are symbols of colonial power, it can be seen as an immediate restoration of Dutch authority in the East Indies.54 Following the recognition of the newly-founded nation-state by its former coloniser in the Round Table Conference in 1949, all the portrait paintings from the governor-generals’ gallery were transferred to the Netherlands as they were deemed the property of the Dutch government. They arrived at the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, in May 1950 and have been kept in its collection ever since.55 If we are to compare this particular event with the transfer of The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro, the decision to move The Portrait of Daendels to the Netherlands has never been lamented, at least until the time of writing, by the Indonesians, nor have they wanted to make a claim for its return to Indonesia; even though it was painted by Raden Saleh and it was in Batavia for most of its life. To understand why this is the case, it is necessary to see how the figure of Daendels is perceived by Indonesian people, particularly how this collective re-imagination relates to the national history reconstructed by the state. In doing this, it is relevant to see The Portrait of Daendels as an individual piece, as well as part of a larger group of governor-general portraits. Herman Willem Daendels was appointed governor-general of the Dutch East Indies in Batavia from 1808 to 1811 by King Louis Napoleon of the Netherlands (r. 1806–10). He was given two major tasks by the King: to reform the corrupt administrative system formerly run by the VOC administration and, more importantly, to defend Java from the looming British invasion following the Napoleonic Wars (1803–15), especially since the French – who already ruled over the Netherlands at the time – and the British were battling for control over Far-Eastern colonies.56 In the modern history of Indonesia, it is told that Daendels was fierce and brutal in performing his assignments, gaining nicknames in the local collective memory such as Marsekal Guntur (Marshal Thunder) and

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Tuan Besar Guntur (Mister Thunder).57 This image was established mainly through the dark history of the De Groote Postweg construction; the road that was built first and foremost in order to improve Java’s defence system, but subsequently used more for a faster postal service, hence the name. While the actual number of casualties over the road building is still disputed, it is believed that over a thousand workers – mostly assumed to be forced labourers – died, especially in the Weleri and Megamendung areas.58 The number was presumably biased, and the actual number could be lower, because it was suggested by Nicolaus Engelhard (1761–1831), a fierce opponent of Daendels’ rule when he was released from his post as the VOC governor of the northeast coast of Java.59 In addition, the assumption that the local labourers building De Groote Postweg were forced and not paid may not be true. For building the road that stretches on the north coast of Java – from Anyer in the west to Panarukan in the east – the colonial administration did provide financial support, which was handed to the regents, who may not have handed the salaries to the labourers, hence the rumours.60 Notwithstanding, it is the assumed atrocities committed by Daendels – since this is in line with the historiographical narrative of colonialism – that have been taught to the younger generation through formal education, which remains in the minds of Indonesian people.61 Even today, it is said that Indonesians were forced to build the road and were tortured if they resisted, which resulted in people becoming poorer and suffering more.62 An interview by TEMPO, an Indonesian magazine, explicitly shows how this negative image persists in the social imagination, when an elderly man in Tuban – located on the northeastern part of Java – said that De Groote Postweg was enlarged in 1936 by the colonial government, which unlike Daendels, paid the labourers.63 On the other hand, the nationalist historicising of Raden Saleh has proposed that the depiction of the Megamendung landscape in The Portrait of Daendels is a subversive allusion – intended by the artist – to the brutality attributed to the colonial power in Java; this suggestion has however not been widely accepted beyond academic publications.64 Hence the painting has sat uneasily within Saleh’s oeuvre in his supposed role as an early Indonesian artist. Since its arrival at the Rijksmuseum, The Portrait of Daendels has never been displayed in the permanent galleries. While its fragile state today may prevent such viewing, it has been suggested that the painting, along with others forming the portrait gallery, are not considered to be on a par with the aesthetic achievements of Dutch art history.65 Even so, The Portrait of Daendels has frequently been on temporary exhibition in the Netherlands, in 1989, 1991, 1995 and 2002/03.66 The 1991 exhibition at the Rijksmuseum entitled Herman Willem Daendels 1762–1818:

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geldersman, patriot, jacobijn, generaal, hereboer, maarschalk (“Herman Willem Daendels 1762–1818: a man from Gelderland, patriot, Jacobin, general, hero, marshal”) is worthy of note because its theme was to show the complexity of Daendels’ character. Conceived to commemorate the Dutch and French Revolutions (or also known as the Batavian Revolution, 1795–1813), the exhibition displayed Daendels’ colourful career while allowing visitors to decide themselves on the interpretation.67 As for the portrait gallery, I suggest that there may be another reason why it is not reconstructed in the museum despite its historical importance. In this regard, the portrait gallery of governor-generals is related to the contested narratives of the length of Dutch colonialism in Indonesia. The Dutch consider that their colonial project in Indonesia officially started around 1800 after the VOC was disbanded, since before that they – through the company – only traded with certain regions now located inside Indonesia.68 On the other hand, Indonesians today believe that the Dutch colonised their country for 350 years: the term “350 years” was first formulated in Sukarno’s defence trial in 1930 when he was accused of planning to overthrow the colonial government. Though it is factually inaccurate since some regions in Indonesia had not been subjugated to Dutch rule even after 1900, the term “350 years” is based on the assumption that the Dutch, through the VOC, were already present in parts of the Indonesian regions since early 1600.69 In this regard, the practices of the VOC are considered similar to state colonialism as the company often resorted to violence in monopolising trade as well as using local slaves as free labour. As such, the continuity of the portrait gallery’s narrative can be considered to construe an allegory for a 350-year-long colonialism: a subjugation that began with the rule of the VOC governorgenerals and smoothly transitioned into the administration of the Dutch East Indies at the end of the 18th century. In this sense, it is easy for Indonesians to perceive Daendels as one of the “bad guys” within the accepted narrative of the modern history of Indonesia. As such, his physical representation through The Portrait of Daendels is hard to accept, particularly if celebrated alongside The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro. CONCLUSION From the two case studies presented above we can see how the Dutch – with their political agency as object possessor and prolonged influence over their former colony – still managed to maintain their authority in the making of Indonesian heritage. This observation is more noticeable when we look at the National Gallery Singapore’s acquisition of Forest Fire in 2015 – the biggest painting from Saleh, with the dimensions of 300 x 396 centimetres. The painting was completed in 1849 and presented to King

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Willem III of the Netherlands in 1850. It has been suggested that the Dutch royal family had not been in touch with the Indonesian government in planning the immediate future of Forest Fire after many years of it being rolled up in storage and before being acquired by the National Gallery Singapore.70 If we are to believe this statement, the royal family thus considered the painting, which previously had been coveted by Indonesia as one of the most lauded accomplishments by Raden Saleh, as of no historical importance to Indonesian people. Hence its movement to Singapore allows its appropriation into the regional framework of modern Southeast Asian art. But what is more pertinent to this particular episode is that the government of Indonesia never in fact officially complained about such treatment and that this silence could be interpreted as complicity with the Dutch assessment of the painting’s lack of historical significance. On the other hand, if we are to agree that Forest Fire is indeed part of Indonesia’s cultural treasures, it would suggest an acceptance of the notion that one country’s heritage may be owned and displayed by another country if appropriately contextualised. In this sense, it is of note that in its website the National Gallery Singapore recognises that the painting is Indonesian, while the narrative built for the painting is of cultural agency against colonial power and celebration of a local artist’s artistic achievement in the early development of modern art in Southeast Asia.71 But either way, whether the transfer to Singapore represents compliance or appropriation, it is the Dutch who maintained agency in deciding where the painting should be located. Additionally, in looking at the movements of two of Raden Saleh’s paintings, namely The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro and The Portrait of Daendels, and by using “object restitution” as a discursive framework, we can see that the transfers are closely tied to the Indonesian-centric historiography that is officially endorsed by the state. While the transfer of The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro to Indonesia in 1977/78 may have resulted in a shift in the painting’s value and ultimately placed it on the pedestal of national heritage, the repatriation of The Portrait of Daendels to the Netherlands has resulted in the exclusion of the painting from the official heritage of Indonesia today, although it was painted by Raden Saleh – a seemingly heroic figure who, in official terms, propagated modern Indonesian art. In this sense, we can see how the restitution of an object can be used by the new possessors to legitimise the object’s place in national heritage. But at the same time, restitution can also result in the exclusion of an object from such designation by the country giving up its ownership. Here – even though this study of Saleh’s paintings has focussed only on the interactions between the former coloniser (the Netherlands) and its past colony (Indonesia) – it shows that heritage formation is closely tied to how a modern nation defines its history,

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particularly the historical narrative as authorised by the state, and how the collective rendering of the past influences discussions around object restitution. This process provides an interesting perspective on how artworks have been appropriated in constructing a modern state identity, while at the same time they are still tangled in a web of competing legitimacies. In the case of Raden Saleh, the absence of any past statement from the artist himself is not to be seen as a challenge, but more as an opportunity by authoritative figures/entities to reinterpret his paintings vis-à-vis his standing in the historiography of Indonesia.

Notes 1

See Brian Calvert, “Antiquities Dispute Pits Cambodia Against Establishment,” VOA Khmer, 21 July 2012, https://www.voacambodia.com/a/antiquitiesdispute-pits-cambodia-against-establisment/1442342.html (accessed 22 Oct. 2017); Nhean Socheat, “Cambodia’s Historical Art Objects Should Be Returned,” The Cambodian Law and Policy Journal Vol. 3, Dec. 2014, http:// cambodialpj.org/cambodias-historical-art-objects-should-be-returned/ (accessed 22 Oct. 2017). 2 James Cuno, Who owns antiquity? Museums and the battle over our ancient heritage (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2008), 41. 3 Ibid. 4 The year of Raden Saleh’s birth has been long debated due to lack of official records. Here I am following the years set by Baharudin Marasutan, one of Saleh’s earlier biographers, which are currently used by the National Gallery of Indonesia. 5 Marie-Oddette Scalliet, “The Javanese Painter Raden Saleh (c. 1811–1880): A Star in the Firmament of Indonesian Modern Visual Art,” in Charting Thoughts: Essays on Art in Southeast Asia, ed. Low Sze Wee and Patrick D. Flores (Singapore: National Gallery Singapore, 2017), 64. 6 Baharudin Marasutan, Raden Saleh 1807–1880: Perintis Seni Lukis di Indonesia / The Precursor of Painting in Indonesia (Jakarta: Dewan Kesenian Jakarta, 1973), 16. 7 Werner Kraus, “Raden Saleh’s Interpretation of The Arrest of Diponegoro: an example of Indonesian ‘proto-nationalist’ Modernism,” Archipel 69 (2005): 264. 8 Susie Protschky, Images of the tropics: Environment and visual culture in colonial Indonesia (Leiden: KITLV Press, 2011), 54. 9 Ibid., 275. 10 Ibid. 11 Marasutan, Raden Saleh, 21; John Clark, “The Southeast Asian Modern: Three Artists,” in Modern and Contemporary Southeast Asian Art: An Anthology, ed. Nora A. Taylor and Boreth Ly (New York: Cornell University, 2012), 31–2. The original inscription is in Dutch. 12 Harsja W. Bachtiar, “Raden Saleh: Bangsawan, Pelukis dan Ilmuwan,” in Raden Saleh: Anak Belanda, Mooi Indië & Nasionalisme, ed. J.J. Rizal (Jakarta: Komunitas Bambu, 2009), 19. The name given here is in German as it was

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quoted from a letter written by Raden Saleh to his friend-patron, Duke Ernst II of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha (Kraus, “Raden Saleh’s Interpretation of The Arrest of Diponegoro,” 281). 13 Clark, “The Southeast Asian Modern,” 30. 14 Marasutan, Raden Saleh, 20; Marieke Bloembergen, Colonial Spectacles: The Netherlands and the Dutch East Indies at the World Exhibitions, 1880–1931 (Singapore: Singapore University Press, 2006), 74. 15 Bloembergen, Colonial Spectacles, 74. 16 Kraus, “Raden Saleh’s Interpretation,” 287; Peter Carey, “Raden Saleh, Dipanagara and the Painting of the Capture of Dipanagara at Magelang (28 March 1830),” Journal of the Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 55, no. 1 (1982): 2. 17 Liputan6, “Sejarah Penangkapan Pangeran Diponegoro Direkonstruksi,” LIPUTAN6, 6 June 2004, http://news.liputan6.com/read/79662/sejarahpenangkapan-pangeran-diponegoro-direkonstruksi (accessed 24 Oct. 2017). For further discussion on this historical event, see Carey, “The Nationalist Quest for an Indonesian Past,” 1–25 and Harm Stevens, Bitter Spice: Indonesia and the Netherlands from 1600 (Rijksmuseum/Vantilt Publishers, 2015), 35–51. 18 Anthony Reid, “The Nationalist Quest for an Indonesian Past,” reprinted in Perceptions of the Past in Southeast Asia, ed. Anthony Reid and David Marr (Singapore: Heinemann Educational Books [Asia], 1982), 293. 19 Nebojsa Djordjevic, “The Depiction of A (National) Hero: Pangeran Diponegoro in Paintings from the Nineteenth Century until Today” (Surakarta: Sebelas Maret University, 2014). Unpublished Master’s theses, 32. 20 Reid, “The Nationalist Quest,” 298. 21 At the time of writing, there are at least two new statues of Diponegoro, the first is in Purworejo, Central Java depicting Diponegoro on a horse – an ubiquitous pose for the prince – while the second is a standing Diponegoro in Bantul, Yogyakarta. 22 Stevens, Bitter Spice, 49. 23 For further discussion on memory and remembering in a heritage formation, see Laurajane Smith, Uses of Heritage (London and New York: Routledge 2006), 57–66. 24 See Jos van Beurden, chapter 8. 25 Cynthia Scott, “Renewing the ‘Special Relationship’ and Rethinking the Return of Cultural Property: The Netherlands and Indonesia, 1949–79,” Journal of Contemporary History 52, no. 3 (2017): 662; For the text of 1976 Joint Recommendations, see Jos van Beurden, Treasures in Trusted Hands: Negotiating the Future of Colonial Cultural Objects (Leiden: Sidestone Press, 2017), 150–2. 26 Koesnadi Hardjasoemantri, “An Observation of Raden Saleh’s View,” Raden Saleh Bulletin, no. 1 (1996): 37–40; Jos van Beurden, email message to the author, 12 Nov. 2017. I thank Werner Kraus for directing me to Hardjasoemantri’s article. 27 Hardjasoemantri, “An Observation,” 39–40; For further elaboration on this comparison, see Werner Kraus and Irina Vogelsang, Raden Saleh: The Beginning of Modern Indonesian Art (Jakarta: Goethe-Institut Indonesien, 2012); Carey, “The Nationalist Quest for an Indonesian Past,” 1–25; and Kraus, “Raden Saleh’s Interpretation,” 259–94. 28 Bachtiar, “Raden Saleh: Bangsawan,” 19. This article is a translated version and was first published under the title “Raden Saleh: Aristocrat, Painter and Scientist,” Majalah Ilmu-Ilmu Sastra Indonesia 6, no. 3 (Aug. 1976).

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29

Werner Kraus, “Diponegoro in the Mouth of Indonesian Art History: the Making of a Hero,” in A Prince for All Seasons: Diponegoro in the Memory of the Nation from Raden Saleh to the Present, ed. Werner Kraus, Jim Supangkat, and Peter Carey (Jakarta: National Gallery of Indonesia, 6 Feb. – 8 Mar. 2015), 17. 30 Scalliet, “The Javanese Painter,” 73. 31 Ibid., 74. 32 Ibid. 33 Ibid. 34 See Beurden, Treasures in Trusted Hands, 138. 35 Peter H. Pott and M. Amir Sutaarga, “Arrangement concluded or in progress for the return of objects: the Netherlands and Indonesia,” Museum 31, no. 1 (1979): 42. 36 Hardjasoemantri, “An Observation,” 39; Nunus Supardi, “Ken Dedes Pulang Kampung,” Jurnal Museum Nasional Prajnaparamita, no. 04 (2014): 27. 37 I thank Jos van Beurden for pointing out this insight in our discussion. 38 It should be noted as well that today the collection’s legal ownership is still disputed between the state and Sukarno’s family. 39 Susie Protschky, “Landscape Painting in Indonesia: Continuity and Change in President Sukarno’s Collection,” in Charting Thoughts: Essays on Art in Southeast Asia, ed. Low Sze Wee and Patrick D. Flores (Singapore: National Gallery Singapore, 2017), 165. 40 Ibid. 41 See Gita Amanda, “Selang 200 Tahun, Karya-Karya Raden Saleh akan Dipamerkan,” Republika Online, 26 May 2012, http://www.republika.co.id/ berita/nasional/umum/13/07/03/senggang/seni-budaya/12/05/26/m4m4z8selang-200-tahun-karyakarya-raden-saleh-akan-dipamerkan (accessed 24 Oct. 2017); Zika Zakiya and RR Ukirsari Manggalani, “Pameran Lukisan Raden Saleh: Perkenalan Bapak Modernitas Jawa kepada Masyarakat RI,” National Geographic Indonesia, 25 May 2012, http://nationalgeographic.co.id/ berita/2012/05/pameran-lukisan-raden-saleh-perkenalan-bapak-modernitasjawa-pada-masyarakat-ri (accessed 24 Oct. 2017); Darma Ismayanto, “200 Tahun Raden Saleh,” Historia No. 3 Tahun I, 2012, 30–4; Richard Horstman, “From colonization to globalization,” pressreader, 7 May 2017, https://www. pressreader.com/indonesia/the-jakarta-postjplus/20170505/281857233444868 (accessed 24 Oct. 2017). I thank Werner Kraus for providing the visitor numbers. 42 Jim Supangkat, “Diponegoro, Raden Saleh, and History in the Eyes of Indonesian Artist,” in Aku Diponegoro: Sang Pangeran dalam Ingatan Bangsa, dari Raden Saleh hingga Kini / A Prince of All Seasons: Diponegoro in the Memory of the Nation, From Raden Saleh to the Present (Goethe Institut, Galeri Nasional Indonesia, Ministry of Education and Culture of the Republic of Indonesia, Kedutaan Besar Republik Federal Jerman Jakarta and Yayasan Arhari Djojohadikusumo: Jakarta, 2015), 14. 43 See Horstman, “From colonization to globalization”. 44 See https://cagarbudaya.kemdikbud.go.id/public/objek/detailcb/ PO2017101200002/lukisan-penangkapan-pangeran-diponegoro-karyaraden-saleh. 45 For further discussion on changing and conflicted perceptions of Raden Saleh, see Amir Sidharta, “Indonesian Views of Raden Saleh”, in Between Worlds: Raden Saleh and Juan Luna, ed. Russel Storer (Singapore: National Gallery Singapore, 2017), 54–65.

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46

Iwanoganapriansyah, “Pembeli Ingin Lukisan Raden Saleh Kembali Ke Indonesia,” TribunJogja.com, 31 Jan. 2018, https://jogja.tribunnews. com/2018/01/31/pembeli-ingin-lukisan-raden-saleh-kembali-ke-indonesia (accessed 22 June 2019). 47 For example, see Annisa Desmiati, Yustiono, and Agung Hujatnika, “Romantisme pada Karya-Karya Raden Saleh: Sebuah Tinjuan Kritik Seni,” Journal of Visual Art and Design 5, no. 2 (2013): 121–34. 48 Protschky, Images of the tropics, 63; Stevens, Bitter Spice, 133. 49 Protschky, Images of the tropics, 60. 50 Peter J.M. Nas and Pratiwo, “Java and De Groote Postweg, La Grande Route, the Great Mail Road, Jalan Raya Pos,” Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 158, no. 4 (2002): 722. 51 Stevens, Bitter Spice, 131. The VOC was officially founded on 20 Mar. 1602 in Amsterdam, while its operation ceased completely on 31 Dec. 1799. 52 Ibid., 135. 53 Ibid. 54 Ibid.; Protschky, Images of the tropics, 55. 55 Stevens, Bitter Spice, 125 & 137. 56 Peter Carey, Daendels and the Sacred Space of Java, 1808–11: Political Relations, Uniforms and the Postweg (Nijmegen: Uitgeverij Vantilt / Stichting Daendels, 2013), 3. 57 Ibid., 4; Nas and Pratiwo, “Java and the Groote Postweg,” 711. 58 Nas and Pratiwo, “Java and the Groote Postweg,” 710. 59 Ibid., 710; See Carey, Daendels and the Sacred Space of Java, 11 & 34. 60 Hendri F. Isnaeni, “Sepuluh Fakta Jalan Daendels dari Anyer ke Panarukan,” Historia No. 23 Tahun II, 2015, 49. 61 Nas and Pratiwo, “Java and the Groote Postweg,” 711. 62 Tim Bina Karya Guru, IPS Terpadu untuk SD/MI Kelas V (Jakarta: Penerbit Erlangga, 2012), 129. 63 Seri Buku Tempo, Jalan Pos Daendels, (Jakarta: KPG [Kepustakaan Populer Gramedia] in cooperation with Tempo Publishing, 2017), 17. 64 For further elaboration of this nationalist view, see Carey, Daendels and the Sacred Space of Java, 7–11 and Kraus and Vogelsang, Raden Saleh: The Beginning, 94. Another Daendels portrait – not in his formal uniform – was made by Raden Saleh in 1838 and is now in the collection of Universitas Pelita Harapan Museum, Tangerang. It has retained a low profile until today and is only known within the Indonesian and regional modern art world. 65 Jan de Hond (curator in the Rijksmuseum’s Department of History), email message to the author, 24 Aug. 2017; Stevens, Bitter Spice, 144. 66 Jan de Hond, email message to the author, 24 Aug. 2017. 67 Rijksmuseum, “Herman Willem Daendels (1762–1818): 22 juni t/m 22 september 1991,” Bulletin van het Rijksmuseum 39, no. 2 (1991): 259. 68 See Timeline Dutch History, https://www.rijksmuseum.nl/en/rijksstudio/ timeline-dutch-history. The term “colonial” is only present from 1800 on. 69 Wood, Official History, 68. 70 Lizzy van Leeuwen, “Cara Keluarga Kerajaan Belanda Perlakukan Karya Raden Saleh,” trans. Joss Wibisono, Historia, 6 Dec. 2016, http://historia.id/ budaya/cara-keluarga-kerajaan-belanda-perlakukan-karya-raden-saleh (accessed 25 Oct. 2017). 71 See “Boschbrand (Forest Fire),” National Gallery Singapore, https://www. nationalgallery.sg/artworks/artwork-detail/2014-00321/boschbrand-forest-fire (accessed 25 Oct. 2017) and Phoebe Scott, “Authority and Anxiety,” in Between

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Declarations and Dreams: Art of Southeast Asia since the 19th Century, ed. Low Sze Wee and Patrick D. Flores (Singapore: National Gallery Singapore, 2015), 16–30; Scalliet, “The Javanese Painter,” 60–76. References Amanda, Gita. “Selang 200 Tahun, Karya-Karya Raden Saleh akan Dipamerkan.” Republika Online, 26 May 2012. http://www.republika.co.id/berita/nasional/ umum/13/07/03/senggang/seni-budaya/12/05/26/m4m4z8-selang-200-tahunkaryakarya-raden-saleh-akan-dipamerkan (accessed 24 Oct. 2017). Bachtiar, Harsja W. “Raden Saleh: Bangsawan, Pelukis dan Ilmuwan.” In Raden Saleh: Anak Belanda, Mooi Indië & Nasionalisme, edited by J.J. Rizal, 1–83. Jakarta: Komunitas Bambu, 2009. Beurden, Jos van. Treasures in Trusted Hands: Negotiating the Future of Colonial Cultural Objects. Leiden: Sidestone Press, 2017. Bloembergen, Marieke. Colonial Spectacles: The Netherlands and the Dutch East Indies at the World Exhibitions, 1880–1931. Singapore: Singapore University Press, 2006. “Boschbrand (Forest Fire).” National Gallery Singapore. https://www.nationalgallery. sg/artworks/artwork-detail/2014-00321/boschbrand-forest-fire (accessed 25 Oct. 2017). Calvert, Brian. “Antiquities Dispute Pits Cambodia Against Establishment.” VOA Khmer, 21 July 2012. https://www.voacambodia.com/a/antiquities-disputepits-cambodia-against-establisment/1442342.html (accessed 22 Oct. 2017). Carey, Peter. Daendels and the Sacred Space of Java, 1808–11: Political Relations, Uniforms and the Postweg. Nijmegen: Uitgeverij Vantilt / Stichting Daendels, 2013. ___ . “Raden Saleh, Dipanagara and the Painting of the Capture of Dipanagara at Magelang (28 Mar. 1830).” Journal of the Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 55, no. 1 (1982): 1–25. Clark, John. “The Southeast Asian Modern: Three Artists.” In Modern and Contemporary Southeast Asian Art: An Anthology, edited by Nora A. Taylor and Boreth Ly, 15–32. New York: Cornell University, 2012. Cuno, James. Who owns antiquity? Museums and the battle over our ancient heritage. New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2008. Desmiati, Annisa, Yustiono, and Agung Hujatnika. “Romantisme pada Karya-Karya Raden Saleh: Sebuah Tinjuan Kritik Seni.” Journal of Visual Art and Design 5, no. 2 (2013): 121–34. Djordjevic, Nebojsa. “The Depiction of A (National) Hero: Pangeran Diponegoro in Paintings from the Nineteenth Century until Today”. Surakarta: Sebelas Maret University, 2014. Unpublished Master’s thesis. Hardjasoemantri, Koesnadi. “An Observation of Raden Saleh’s View.” Raden Saleh Bulletin, no. 1 (1996): 37–40. Horstman, Richard. “From colonization to globalization.” Pressreader, 7 May 2017. https://www.pressreader.com/indonesia/the-jakarta-postjplus/20170505/281857233444868 (accessed 24 Oct. 2017). Ismayanto, Darma. “200 Tahun Raden Saleh.” Historia No. 3 Tahun I, 2012, 30–4. Isnaeni, Hendri F. “Sepuluh Fakta Jalan Daendels dari Anyer ke Panarukan,” Historia No. 23 Tahun II, 2015, 48–51. Iwanoganapriansyah. “Pembeli Ingin Lukisan Raden Saleh Kembali Ke Indonesia,” TribunJogja.com, 31 Jan. 2018. https://jogja.tribunnews.com/2018/01/31/

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pembeli-ingin-lukisan-raden-saleh-kembali-ke-indonesia (accessed 22 June 2019). Kraus, Werner. “Raden Saleh’s Interpretation of The Arrest of Diponegoro: an Example of Indonesian “proto-nationalist” Modernism.” Archipel 69 (2005): 259–94. ___ . “Diponegoro in the Mouth of Indonesian Art History: the Making of a Hero.” In A Prince for All Seasons: Diponegoro in the Memory of the Nation from Raden Saleh to the Present, edited by Werner Kraus, Jim Supangkat, and Peter Carey, 17. Jakarta: National Gallery Indonesia, 6 Feb.–8 Mar. 2015. Kraus, Werner, and Irina Vogelsang. Raden Saleh: The Beginning of Modern Indonesian Art. Jakarta: Goethe-Institut Indonesien, 2012. Leeuwen, Lizzy Van. “Cara Keluarga Kerajaan Belanda Perlakukan Karya Raden Saleh,” trans. Joss Wibisono. Historia 6 Dec. 2016. http://historia.id/budaya/ cara-keluarga-kerajaan-belanda-perlakukan-karya-raden-saleh (accessed 25 Oct. 2017). Liputan6. “Sejarah Penangkapan Pangeran Diponegoro Direkonstruksi.” LIPUTAN6, 6 June 2004. http://news.liputan6.com/read/79662/sejarahpenangkapan-pangeran-diponegoro-direkonstruksi (accessed 24 Oct. 2017). Marasutan, Baharudin. Raden Saleh 1807–1880: Perintis Seni Lukis di Indonesia / The Precursor of Painting in Indonesia. Jakarta: Dewan Kesenian Jakarta, 1973. Nas, Peter J.M. and Pratiwo. “Java and De Groote Postweg, La Grande Route, the Great Mail Road, Jalan Raya Pos.” Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 158, no. 4. (2002): 707–25. Pott, Peter H., and M. Amir Sutaarga. “Arrangements concluded or in progress for the return of objects: the Netherlands-Indonesia.” Museum 31, no. 1 (1979): 38–42. Protschky, Susie. Images of the tropics: Environment and visual culture in colonial Indonesia. Leiden: KITLV Press, 2011. ___ . “Landscape Painting in Indonesia: Continuity and Change in President Sukarno’s Collection.” In Charting Thoughts: Essays on Art in Southeast Asia, edited by Low Sze Wee and Patrick D. Flores, 164–73. Singapore: National Gallery Singapore, 2017. Reid, Anthony. “The Nationalist Quest for an Indonesian Past,” reprinted ed. In Perceptions of the Past in Southeast Asia, edited by Anthony Reid and David Marr, 281–98. Singapore: Heinemann Educational Books (Asia), 1982. Rijksmuseum. “Herman Willem Daendels (1762–1818): 22 juni t/m 22 september 1991.” Bulletin van het Rijksmuseum 39, no. 2 (1991): 259. Scalliet, Marie-Oddette. “The Javanese Painter Raden Saleh (c. 1811-1880): A Star in the Firmament of Indonesian Modern Visual Art.” In Charting Thoughts: Essays on Art in Southeast Asia, edited by Low Sze Wee and Patrick D. Flores, 60–76. Singapore: National Gallery Singapore, 2017. Scott, Cynthia. “Renewing the ‘Special Relationship’ and Rethinking the Return of Cultural Property: The Netherlands and Indonesia, 1949–79.” Journal of Contemporary History 52, no. 3 (2017): 646–68. Scott, Phoebe. “Authority and Anxiety.” In Between Declarations and Dreams: Art of Southeast Asia since the 19th Century, edited by Low Sze Wee, 16–30. Singapore: National Gallery Singapore, 2015. Seri Buku Tempo. Jalan Pos Daendels. Jakarta: KPG (Kepustakaan Populer Gramedia) in cooperation with Tempo Publishing, 2017. Sidharta, Amir. “Indonesian Views of Raden Saleh”. In Between Worlds: Raden Saleh and Juan Luna, edited by Russel Storer, 54–65. Singapore: National Gallery Singapore, 2017.

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Smith, Laurajane. Uses of Heritage. London and New York: Routledge, 2006. Socheat, Nhean. “Cambodia’s Historical Art Objects Should Be Returned.” The Cambodian Law and Policy Journal Vol. 3, Dec. 2014. http://cambodialpj.org/ cambodias-historical-art-objects-should-be-returned/ (accessed 22 Oct. 2017). Stevens, Harm. Bitter Spice: Indonesia and the Netherlands from 1600. Rijksmuseum/ Vantilt Publishers, 2015. Supangkat, Jim. “Diponegoro, Raden Saleh, and History in the Eyes of Indonesian Artist.” In Aku Diponegoro: Sang Pangeran dalam Ingatan Bangsa, dari Raden Saleh hingga Kini / A Prince of All Seasons: Diponegoro in the Memory of the Nation, From Raden Saleh to the Present. Goethe Institut, Galeri Nasional Indonesia, Ministry of Education and Culture of the Republic of Indonesia, Kedutaan Besar Republik Federal Jerman Jakarta and Yayasan Arhari Djojohadikusumo: Jakarta, 2015. Supardi, Nunus. “Ken Dedes Pulang Kampung.” Jurnal Museum Nasional Prajnaparamita, no. 04 (2014): 21–30. Tim Bina Karya Guru. IPS Terpadu untuk SD/MI Kelas V. Jakarta: Penerbit Erlangga, 2012. Wood, Michael. Official History in Modern Indonesia: New Perceptions and Counterviews. Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2005. Zakiya, Zika, and RR Ukirsari Manggalani. “Pameran Lukisan Raden Saleh: Perkenalan Bapak Modernitas Jawa kepada Masyarakat RI.” National Geographic Indonesia, 25 May 2012. http://nationalgeographic.co.id/ berita/2012/05/pameran-lukisan-raden-saleh-perkenalan-bapak-modernitasjawa-pada-masyarakat-ri (accessed 24 Oct. 2017).

Chapter 8

RETURNS BY THE NETHERLANDS TO INDONESIA IN THE 2010s AND THE 1970s Jos van Beurden

INTRODUCTION In November 2016, the handing over of an ancient golden Buginese kris (dagger) was the beginning of a major return of colonial objects from the Netherlands to Indonesia. In a few years, 1,500 other colonial objects would follow. Most will remain in the National Museum of Indonesia in Jakarta, while some will be assigned to regional museums in Indonesia. The pieces came from a museum in the city of Delft, where colonial officials and the military had been trained. The Museum had to close its doors in 2013. The initiators on the Dutch side were after a new way of repatriating colonial objects that could become a model for future returns, trusting that the Indonesian side would be able to properly curate the material returned. This chapter discusses whether this return process differs from the other major return process from the Netherlands to Indonesia, the one that followed Indonesia’s independence. After deliberations that had begun in 1949 and were concluded in the 1970s, the Netherlands transferred to Indonesia the ancient statue of the goddess Prajnaparamita (see Sapardan, chapter 9), war booty that Dutch soldiers had captured in 1894 on the island of Lombok, and objects that had belonged to Indonesia’s national hero, Prince Diponegoro (see Ardiyansyah, chapter 7, and fig. 7.2). They have been shown in the National Museum of Indonesia ever since, the whereabouts of one much-wanted object, the kris of Diponegoro, remaining shrouded in mystery. How does and did the former coloniser handle the issue of return? How does and did the former colony do this? The answers given below are based on archival research, interviews and published literature. CATEGORIES OF COLONIAL OBJECTS Five centuries of European colonialism witnessed a massive one-way flow of cultural and historical objects from colonies in Latin America, Asia and

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Fig. 8.1 Finger ring from the Lombok treasure, captured in 1894. RV-2364-15. Collection Nationaal Museum van Wereldculturen, the Netherlands.

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Africa as well as in the North Atlantic Ocean to the metropoles in Europe. The ways in which these objects had been acquired can be subdivided roughly into three. There were the pieces which had been purchased or exchanged in a situation of relative equality. Many collectors and scientists paid for the objects that they wanted to take. Some local craftspeople produced objects for European visitors and made a good business; such objects were obtained through mutual benefit. Other objects were acquired in a way that many reject today. These are “tainted” objects (further discussion to follow). Between these two, there is an extensive grey area of objects, the acquisition of which we know very little about. If more was known about these grey objects, we would know to what extent they were acquired with force and given away involuntarily. Tainted objects can be subdivided into five major categories. The first is war booty, a result of the many wars fought by colonial powers and the sometimes fierce anti-colonial resistance. Wars waged by soldiers of the Dutch East India Company – henceforward VOC1 – and the Dutch colonial military in South and Southeast Asia resulted in the collecting of war trophies, such as flags and weapons. A few of these ended up in the pockets of private soldiers. Most others went to the museum of the Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences in present-day Jakarta. Some were offered to the King of the Netherlands, while high-ranking colonial

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officials were allowed to keep them. Famous examples of Dutch war booty were objects belonging to Prince Diponegoro, the leader of the anti-colonial Java War (1825–30), and the Lombok treasure, which Dutch soldiers captured after defeating the Cakranegara court, located at present-day Mataram in 1894. War booty was discussed during the negotiations in the 1970s but not during negotiations in the 2010s. The second category is harder to explain – that of gifts. Gift-giving rarely occurred without an expected reciprocity; it was an instrument of cultural diplomacy. Gift exchange between colonial administrators, on the one hand, and local rulers and commanders, on the other, often confirmed an unequal relationship and was an expression of domination or subjugation. Gifts were not discussed in the 1970s. There must have been several gifts among objects in the Nusantara collection, but their nature was not problematised during the negotiations in the 2010s. The third category is the collecting of numerous archaeological and ethnographic objects by European scientists and collectors, who explored and mapped the islands of the Indonesian archipelago, and, driven by curiosity, amassed such objects as evidence of their efforts or for commercial interests. These Europeans worked individually or they made arrangements with museums and collectors in Europe. They either purchased objects from local inhabitants in exchange for money or

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Fig. 8.2 Finger ring from the Lombok treasure, captured in 1894. RV-2364-300. Collection Nationaal Museum van Wereldculturen, the Netherlands.

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European goods, tricked them or stole from them. An example was the famous 13th-century Prajnaparamita stone statue, which D. Monnereau, a Dutch colonial administrator found near the Singasari temple complex in East Java in 1818 (see Sapardan, chapter 9). After keeping it in his residence for some years, Monnereau handed it over to the Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences, which in turn shipped it to the Netherlands. The fourth and extensive category consists of objects collected by Protestant and Roman-Catholic missionaries. Missionaries committed large scale iconoclasm, burning thousands of traditional religious effigies, and shipping the more significant pieces home. In certain instances, they were helped by converts. Objects collected by missionaries were not part of the negotiations between Indonesia and the Netherlands in the 1970s. The collection of the former Nusantara Museum was owned by the Delft municipality. There is one more category, be it a neglected one: that of tainted objects in private collections. These are objects that were smuggled to Europe in violation of the prevailing laws in the archipelago. From 1840 onwards, the colonial administration in the Indonesian archipelago felt forced to issue such laws in order to curb the illicit trade by its own officials, military and other Europeans. They are much harder to trace than items in public collections. Both in the 1970s and in the 2010s, it was mostly objects in public collections that were at stake. THE REPATRIATION OF OBJECTS IN THE 2010s2 The VOC had chambers in several port cities. One of these was in the city of Delft which maintained a strong relationship with the East Indies. In 1864, the Dutch minister for Colonies chose it as the location for an educational institute for colonial officials. To pass information to the new generation of students, colonial officials and former students sent objects from all over Indonesia to Delft, mostly utensils and handicrafts, while the collection is further made up of objects that were shown at international exhibitions in Paris, Berlin and Amsterdam between 1878 and 1883. While in 1901, the training was cancelled, the objects remained in Delft, and, in 1911, Museum Nusantara was opened (in this context, nusantara was the term for the Indonesian archipelago). It expanded its collections with object donations and loans from private individuals and collectors. Due to declining visitor numbers and changing cultural policy priorities, the Delft municipal government stopped financing Museum Nusantara in 2012. Together with around 4,000 objects from other, mostly colonial areas, the museum then possessed around 18,000 objects. These had to be quickly de-accessioned, as the municipal government was

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only willing to pay for their storage for one year. The museum closed its doors in January 2013. A project group was installed, headed by the municipal director of Delft’s heritage sector and with the participation of the National Museum of World Cultures3 and the Cultural Heritage Agency of the Netherlands as advisors. This project group prepared a de-accessioning plan. It hoped to preserve the collection in the public domain and, from the start, considered the option of repatriation of the Indonesian objects to Indonesia. Considering the quality of the Nusantara collection and that of the National Museum of Indonesia, the project group had a preference for regional museums. The National Museum of World Cultures in the Netherlands and the National Museum of Indonesia have had a good relationship for many years. The idea of repatriation found support both in the Dutch museum field and within the relevant Dutch government ministries. The project group engaged several people to undertake provenance research into the 30,000 documents. Through advertisements in the Government Gazette and regional newspapers, it invited people who had donated or loaned objects to the museum during the last three decades to claim their pieces back. This provenance research was aimed at the prevention of legal claims by donors and lenders in the Netherlands and did not address how they or their ancestors had acquired their treasures in the archipelago in the first place. This limited provenance research led to the transfer of around 500 objects. Next, the project group selected almost 3,200 objects that had to be preserved for the state-owned “Collection Netherlands”. They were transferred to the storerooms of the National Museum of World Cultures. The library of this museum took over most of the books of the Nusantara Museum. In 2015, a delegation of the National Museum of Indonesia and the then Director-General of Indonesia’s Ministry of Education and Culture visited Delft. They were interested in the collection because of plans for a new training institute for museum professionals in Indonesia. In a constructive atmosphere the two parties discussed how the transfer of thousands of objects, varying from precious heirlooms to utensils and handicrafts, could take place. Early in 2016, the project group continued intensive consultations with the National Museum of Indonesia. Indonesian newspapers received the return-offer enthusiastically.4 The appointment of a new Director-General at the ministry in Jakarta, Hilmar Farid, on 31 December 2015, initiated a sudden change. In a short letter, dated 31 March 2016, he informed the project group that Indonesia had waived the Dutch repatriation offer. That he did not give any reasons for this turn was remarkable. What could have motivated him? He might have objected to the high transportation costs which Indonesia would have to pay. There might be no storage available for the

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Fig. 8.3 Heading an economic delegation, Dutch PM Mark Rutte hands over an old Buginese kris to Indonesian President Joko Widodo, on 26 November 2016. ANP/ photographed by Jerry Lampen.

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sudden arrival of thousands of objects. It is also possible that, the fact that the Netherlands initially selected some 3,200 objects and that Indonesia had only second choice, irritated him. Or he might have objected to being forced to accept the full collection. Disappointed about the closure of the repatriation route, the project group began to look for the re-designation of the collection in the Netherlands. According to the guidebook of the Museum Association (MA) in the Netherlands, all the Association’s members – all registered museums in the Netherlands – should be asked for their interest in the objects but, in this case, the MA agreed that only ethnographic museums needed to be approached. This led to the acceptance of a number of objects by smaller museums in the Netherlands. The project group also made contact with museums elsewhere in Europe and Asia. This led to transfers to ethnological museums in Vienna (Austria), Gothenburg (Sweden), Kuching (Malaysia), Seoul (South Korea) and Singapore. The Sarawak Museum in Kuching, for instance, was allotted 412 objects, almost three-quarters of what it had asked for. Most originated from Borneo with over two thirds

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from Kalimantan; a few objects originated from West Malaysia, Sulawesi and Java. The Sarawak Museum considered the procedure “successful”.5 At the same time, the project group undertook efforts to discuss anew the possibility of repatriation to Indonesia with the Ministry of Culture and Education in Jakarta. This led to a moderation of the viewpoint of the Director-General. Late in 2016, a delegation of the National Museum of Indonesia selected 1,500 objects in the Netherlands. One month later, the Dutch Prime Minister, Mark Rutte, who headed a Dutch economic mission to Indonesia handed over a golden Buginese kris to Indonesia’s President, Joko Widodo. The transfer took until December 2019, when other objects arrived in Jakarta. On that occasion, Director-General for Culture, Hilmar Farid, said to “expect more of Indonesia’s heritage items to return home in the future”.6 In order to be sure that a museum to which Nusantara objects were to be assigned was able to take care of them properly, the project group only accepted requests from registered museums. The Asia Cultural Centre in South Korea, which was interested in all the objects not assigned to other

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Fig. 8.4 Golden Buginese Kris. Museum Prisenhof Delft.

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museums, had to finish the registration procedure quickly. It received over 7,700 objects, which was half of all items to be de-accessioned. THE TRANSFER OF PRECIOUS OBJECTS IN THE 1970s Not much has been written about the return of cultural colonial treasures by the Netherlands to Indonesia, so the following paragraphs draw on my research, on Cynthia Scott’s study of how Dutch officials handled Indonesia’s return-claim7 and on studies that cover specific aspects of these issues.8 In August 1945, two days after the Japanese army had surrendered, Indonesia’s nationalist leader Sukarno, seconded by Mohammed Hatta, proclaimed the country’s independence. Sukarno soon faced the Dutch, who returned after some months to reinstall their colonial administration. The Dutch felt victimised by the German occupation of the Netherlands and the Japanese occupation of their colony and linked the Japanese occupation and de facto declaration of independence to each other. They showed little understanding of the impact of three and a half centuries of Dutch colonial presence in the archipelago. For Sukarno, claims of Dutch victimhood did not count. He neither wanted a Japanese occupier nor a Dutch coloniser. Soon, fierce fighting began between the Dutch and the anticolonial forces, with atrocities and suffering on all sides. The extensive and excessive violence long remained taboo in both countries but heavily impacted and delayed the negotiations for the return of objects. After the UN Security Council had condemned the Dutch military actions against the Indonesian forces and called for negotiations,9 a Round Table Conference (RTC) began in The Hague in August 1949. A sub-committee of the RTC drafted a Cultural Agreement, which included an article on restitution. It stipulated that cultural objects of Indonesian origin in the hands of the Dutch or former Dutch East Indies authorities acquired “by means other than as specified in private law for the acquisition of property”10 (an explicit reference to tainted objects) were to be handed over to the Indonesian Government. The RTC led to the formal transition of sovereignty on 27 December 1949. Too preoccupied, however, in severing ties to its former coloniser and fearing the continuing Dutch economic dominance, the young country did not pursue the returns. After the quiet death of the draft Cultural Agreement, the two governments reopened the talks every now and then, albeit to little effect. In February 1952, they agreed to deal with returns in ad hoc committees, but nothing came of it.11 In 1954, Indonesia suggested maintaining Article 19 of the 1949 draft Cultural Agreement, but the Dutch rejected this.12 Apart from the tense relationship between President Sukarno and

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the Dutch Government, there was another issue that kept the countries divided: the continuing Dutch control over Papua. Three times – in 1954, 1956 and 1957 – Indonesia had the Papua issue scheduled for the UN General Assembly, but it never gained sufficient support.13 Indonesia stopped radio-broadcasting in the Dutch language in 1954, ordered Dutch nationals to repatriate, and nationalised Dutch companies in 1957.14 But the Dutch efforts to keep Papua were in vain. In the New York Agreement between the Republic of Indonesia and the Kingdom of the Netherlands concerning West New Guinea (West Irian), signed in 1962,15 it handed sovereignty over Papua to the United Nations, which would pass it to Indonesia. In five years, the Papuans would decide in an Act of Free Choice about their relationship with Indonesia. The Dutch withdrawal from Papua opened the possibility of new negotiations. Indonesia was outspoken about the need to return cultural objects and archives and felt annoyed sometimes by the Dutch emphasis on the strengthening of its museum infrastructure. Indonesia did not submit a formal return-claim to the Netherlands but used news agencies to voice its wishes. In July 1963, a cabinet member said via the Indonesian news agency, Antara, that manuscripts and books “that are historically important for Indonesia” were better returned. Dutch officials had studied them during colonialism, but they “now no longer had any practical value for the Dutch”. Their return “would certainly be of good influence on the development of friendly relations”.16 In September 1963, a high ranking official argued before the Agence France Presse that the Netherlands should return authentic antiquities, “of which there was no second specimen and many of which were very valuable”, and to Antara that “the Indonesian cultural articles now kept in Holland are not many in number but they consist of the choicest and authentic ones that have no doubles”.17 After putting down an attempted coup d’état in October 1965, the generals Suharto and Nasution began a witch-hunt against alleged members and sympathisers of the Indonesian communist party PKI. In 1967 Suharto formally replaced Sukarno as president.18 Whereas the relationship of the Dutch government with Sukarno had been poor, the contact with his successor was more frequent, although it too was complicated. The Dutch had great trouble with the hundreds of thousands of people, killed or imprisoned during or after the regime change. The Suharto government, in turn, was annoyed by the unwillingness of the Dutch authorities to stop Moluccans in the Netherlands advancing self-determination for their islands, an old promise of the Dutch colonial administration in exchange for their military support against anti-colonial forces. But Indonesia and the Netherlands were stuck together. They were in the same camp in the

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Cold War, and Indonesia became heavily dependent upon foreign, Western funding. Despite the tensions, Indonesia and the Netherlands signed a Cultural Agreement on sciences, culture and arts on 7 July 1968. It resulted in intensified archival cooperation and the establishment of a Dutch cultural centre in Jakarta. The Agreement stipulated that “the question of cultural objects of Indonesian origin remaining in the Netherlands” had to become a topic of consultation between the two states.19 The improved relations made visits from both sides easier. Dutch development aid became available for cultural programmes. The Agreement fitted with Indonesia’s policy of strengthening national unity and identity, and the Dutch said they were willing to support this goal with the return of some treasures. TOWARDS JOINT RECOMMENDATIONS Two developments helped to reach a breakthrough in the negotiations for new cultural relations. One was the taking office of a centre-left cabinet (1973–76) in the Netherlands. In this cabinet an agreement with Indonesia about transfer of objects “was not a bone of contention” anymore.20 The second development consisted of surreptitious searches by Indonesians for missing treasures. In 1970, an Indonesian Embassy attaché in The Hague visited the Royal Home for Soldiers in Bronbeek and the Armies and Weapons Museum in Leiden incognito, looking for military objects – war booty – that would qualify for return.21 In October 1974, under a technical cooperation agreement between the Jakarta and Amsterdam municipalities, former Mayor of Jakarta, Sudiro, and two other representatives of the Historic Buildings Foundation travelled to the Netherlands “to examine, study and collect Indonesian historic items” to be used in some historic buildings in Jakarta. The Ministry of Internal Affairs in the Netherlands allowed them access to secret documents and to photograph authentic messages of Mohammad Hatta, who had, together with Sukarno, proclaimed Indonesia’s independence in 1945. After visiting institutions, speaking to dignitaries, and loaded with photocopies, reproductions and photographs, the delegation was “impressed that the Netherlands feels obliged to return historic objects, which are unlawfully in its possession, to Indonesia”.22 The outcome of their searches was a list of 10,000 claimable items. In 1975, the Dutch Government declared itself ready for negotiations. The Indonesian Government proposed that both sides set up a team of experts to work on cultural relations and the return of objects. The Dutch accepted this proposal. The brief that was prepared for the Dutch team of experts, admitted that Dutch museums had acquired “the really valuable

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objects from the better sort of collections but since this happened throughout the world, returning any of these objects seems out of the question. This would mean depriving museums of their collections in a completely arbitrary way, and making any museum policy impossible”.23 Before the start of the negotiations, a few important items had been handed over already: the late 14th-century Hindu-Javanese palm-leaf manuscript Nagarakertagama, some works of Indonesia’s painter Raden Saleh (see Ardiyansyah, chapter 7) and a collection of cultural objects from Papua.24 The negotiations were held in the National Museum of Indonesia in Jakarta and began on 10 November 1975. In his opening address Indonesian delegation leader, Professor Mantra, expressed his country’s appreciation of the returns that had already taken place. He put Indonesia’s claim in a context of cultural development, strengthening national identity and improving the “overall economic, political and social condition of the country … which enables the Government of Indonesia to pay more attention to … cultural development”. Mantra praised the Netherlands for its cooperation in the archival field. He did not ask for all objects to be returned: “It is … understood that not all Indonesian cultural objects located in foreign countries ought to be returned” but asked for objects that were “unique”, a “source of national pride” and a “fundamental contribution to the development of national consciousness of the very diverse population of the Indonesian archipelago”.25 Dutch delegation leader, Rob Hotke, emphasised that Indonesia should not expect too much, and certainly not its wish list of 10,000 objects.26 In the days thereafter, the two teams made excursions to heritage sites in different parts of the country and held informal discussions. As the Indonesian team stuck to its long list, the Dutch team elaborated a proposal and presented this at the end of their visit. Reports by two Dutch team members mention a visit to the Minister for Education and Culture, Sjarif Thayeb, which might have forced a breakthrough in the negotiations. “To the annoyance of some and the surprise of all,” the Minister “pronounced as his opinion, that he was not in any need to retrieve ‘all’, as he did not know where he could leave it and what he could do with it”. Subsequently, the Teams of Experts agreed upon “Joint Recommendations by the Dutch and Indonesian Team of Experts Concerning Cultural Cooperation in the Field of Museums and Archives including Transfer of Objects” – henceforth the Joint Recommendations.27 The Council of Ministers of the Netherlands approved them on 20 August 1976 and informed the Indonesian Government about it on 9 December 1976.28 Most probably the Indonesian Government had done so earlier. Joint Recommendation VI stipulated a transfer in stages spread over five years. According to Joint Recommendations II.2-4, the first stage

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Fig. 8.5 Director Pieter Pott at the occasion of the transfer of the Prajnaparamita statue to Indonesia with the statue itself. RV-12420-2. Collection Nationaal Museum van Wereldculturen, the Netherlands.

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“consists of the transfer of state-owned objects”, among them the Prajnaparamita (see Sapardan, chapter 9, and fig. 9.1), 243 pieces of the Lombok treasure and some objects that had belonged to Prince Diponegoro. The word “return” was avoided and replaced by “transfer”, as the Dutch were afraid that return “implied unlawful acquisition of property, or at least supposes it”.29 The Indonesians had asked the Dutch Government to help locate non-state possessors of cultural and historical treasures, and the Dutch had expressed their willingness to render such assistance, but undermined this phrase with the addition “within the limits of its competence” in Joint Recommendation II.3. Among these non-state owners of Indonesian objects were lower governmental bodies, institutions such as the Royal Tropical Institute in Amsterdam, the Dutch royal family and private individuals. The addition “within the limits of its competence” discharged the Netherlands from the obligation to search intensively after objects in private possession. Indonesia’s wish to locate non-state possessors was rather relevant, as recent research shows that elite

Returns by the Netherlands to Indonesia in the 2010s and the 1970s

families had many more tainted objects in their collections – war booty, objects that had taken without permission and compensation – than was previously known.30 LOST: A NATIONAL HERO’S WEAPON31 The Netherlands declared itself to be willing to find ways of transferring military objects “of historical-emotional value … such as those belonging to Diponegoro”, as stated in Joint Recommendation II.4. The demand for the unconditional return of “emotionally loaded objects” of Diponegoro in Museum Bronbeek was turned into a softer formulation about the Dutch government’s willingness to find ways of transferring them to Indonesia.32 One of the most wanted objects was the kris – a Javanese dagger – which Diponegoro had handed over in 1830. I have not been able to find out why it took the Netherlands so long to locate this weapon. For the Netherlands the kris had been evidence of colonial triumph and the final establishment of its authority in Java: for the Javanese and later for the Indonesians, it symbolised “the resistance, the heroism and the martyrdom of Diponegoro”.33 Indonesia attached much importance to it.34 Diponegoro has a museum in Central Java and a statue near the country’s National Monument in Jakarta. Streets and a university are named after him. But the whereabouts of the kris remained shrouded in mystery. As a prince, Diponegoro would typically have several kris. One author found five that are claimed to have belonged to Diponegoro.35 They can be found in three countries: the Netherlands, Indonesia and Austria. One story suggests that one George Lodewijk Weynschenk, a landlord, donated some objects, including Diponegoro’s kris, to the World Museum in Vienna. The museum confirms the presence of a kris and cannot exclude that it once belonged to Diponegoro, but the “only indication” comes from the collector, Weynschenk and “we – so far – do not know how reliable it is. He did not mention from whom he got the kris and the information and … collectors tend sometimes to make their collection items more interesting”.36 If it is in Indonesia, it could be in the National Museum. This institution, or rather its predecessor museum of the Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences, began to register important objects from 1850 onwards. In the 21st century, the museum has improved its registration methods and many kris “that once had been registered could not be found anymore”.37 If the kris was still in the Netherlands, there were four options: the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, Museum Volkenkunde in Leiden, Museum Bronbeek in Arnhem, or it has disappeared into a private collection. The archives offer almost no hints about its whereabouts, except for a “confidential code message” of 1983, in which Dutch Ambassador Lodewijk van Gorkom in Jakarta cabled the

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Dutch Foreign Ministry that the kris was in the cellar of the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. As it made little sense to keep it in the Netherlands, since it had much more value for Indonesia, the ambassador suggested to “consider a transfer of the keris to Indonesia”.38 Nothing was done with the message. In 1984, director Pieter Pott of Museum Volkenkunde in Leiden thought he had found the kris but his discovery was not followed by an offer to Indonesia for its return.39 The successor of Ambassador van Gorkom, Ambassador Frans van Dongen, also thought the kris to be in the Netherlands. On the occasion of the 40th anniversary of the Republic of Indonesia in 1985 and being aware of Indonesian sensitivities, he suggested to Director Pott of the Museum Volkenkunde: … that the Foreign Ministry in The Hague should make a large gesture and return Diponegoro’s keris (kris). It would have a symbolic meaning for the whole of Indonesia and a special meaning for its President. But Pott sent me a note that a return was undesirable. I know for sure from my correspondence with Pott that at that moment the keris (kris) was in the Museum in Leiden.40

Fig. 8.6 Statue of Prince Diponegoro near National Monument, Jakarta, Indonesia. Photograph by Jos van Beurden.

Until February 2020, officials of the Museum Volkenkunde have always denied that the kris was in their storerooms. In the early 2010s, this museum and the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam made, at the author’s request, extra efforts to trace the dagger. Enquiries at Museum Bronbeek in Arnhem did not help either.41 In an unexpected move, the Dutch minister for Culture announced on 3 March 2020, that – thanks to new research by the Leiden museum – the kris had been found and returned to Indonesia. Pictures of the kris will be presented, when it is exhibited in Indonesia.42

8.6

Returns by the Netherlands to Indonesia in the 2010s and the 1970s

COMPARISONS BETWEEN THE 2010s AND THE POST-INDEPENDENCE PERIOD The relationship between Indonesia and the Netherlands in the 2010s differs considerably from that after the proclamation of Indonesian independence on 17 August 1945 and the formal transition of sovereignty on 27 December 1949. Much of the post-independence tension has disappeared. The inequality of the colonial period and the interconnectedness of the two countries have greatly diminished. Economically, Indonesia is an upcoming market that has developed mutually beneficial relations with other countries in Asia and with the USA. The Netherlands is only its seventh largest trading partner.43 Politically and culturally, Indonesia faced a dramatic period during the rather violent transition from the Sukarno government to the Suharto administration and has to come as much to terms with this recent period as with its colonial past. The Netherlands wants to continue its cultural ties with Indonesia. Some 400,000 people in the Netherlands were born – or their parents were born – in the Dutch East Indies.44 Recently, Dutch research institutions have started a research project into the violence committed by the Dutch and the other side between 1945 and 1949, thereby involving their Indonesian colleagues as much as possible. Some Indonesian academics think, however, that it will be hard to agree on common conclusions.45 A remarkable difference between the negotiations regarding the transfer of objects in the 1970s and those in the 2010s has to do with their duration: a quarter century (1949–75) after Indonesia’s independence, and a few years (2013–16) in the 21st century. In the 1970s, the two countries had strongly opposing interests, Indonesia being the claimant and the Netherlands being scared to lose precious treasures. Political tensions between the two were high. In the 2010s, the return-initiative came from the Netherlands, and as far as the Delft municipality was concerned, the return had to be a quick fix, as it wanted to pay for the collection’s storage for one year only. The change in Jakarta from a positive to a negative response to the Dutch return-offer in 2016 is significant in the sense that Indonesia let the Dutch know that they were not interested in the return of just any colonial cultural objects from the Netherlands. After all, the Delft objects did not form a top collection and the cultural authorities in Jakarta carefully studied which objects could fill gaps in the Indonesian national collection, and which could not. They feel stronger and have more detailed heritage policies than their colleagues in the 1970s. Their old colleagues never asked for all colonial objects to be returned but depended more on Dutch goodwill.

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Another difference relates to the value of the objects. The earlier objects were generally recognised as of great cultural and historical importance and, at the time, the Museum Bronbeek is known to have prolonged the presence of Diponegoro’s objects, of which it would have to let go. In 2016, it was disclosed that one object, the reins of Diponegoro’s horse, was never transferred to Indonesia, while “legally they fall under the agreement of the transfer”.46 They are still in the Museum Bronbeek. The Museum Volkenkunde in Leiden regretted the departure of the Prajnaparamita stone statue and had, before its departure, four plasters casts made which can still be found in its storerooms.47 Most objects that qualified for repatriation in the 2010s were part of a collection – from a golden kris to all sorts of handicrafts – that had become superfluous; would there be museums in the Netherlands that would want them? The Delft project group considered the repatriation of the Nusantara objects as “a ground-breaking process” for a new, more progressive way of thinking about repatriation.48 There is a factor which the two return efforts have in common: the absence of non-state actors in the negotiations. The negotiations of the 1970s occurred between two states. Indonesia had consciously decided not to include, for instance, descendants of regional princes who had lost war booty to the Dutch. Some of the latter felt insulted at the time, since they had been loyal to the Dutch coloniser for a long time. Non-state actors were not involved in the Nusantara negotiations either. The negotiations were held between the project group in Delft, the sub-national owner of the collection, and the National Museum of Indonesia and the DirectorGeneral for Culture in Jakarta. At least two regional museums in Indonesia, in Yogyakarta and in northern Bali, wanted to defend their interests in the process but were not allowed to do so. In the Netherlands, descendants of colonial officials, who had attended classes in Delft and studied the Nusantara collection, wanted to keep the entire collection in Delft, after Indonesia’s new Director-General had turned down the Dutch return-offer.49 Neither the non-state actors in Indonesia nor the Netherlands were given a role in the negotiations. I wonder whether this is tenable in future situations. In discussions about, for instance, colonial human remains and intra-state repatriations of objects, source communities are actively involved and UN declarations and resolutions support their involvement.50 Another common factor is that in both periods not all parties in Indonesia were after the return of lost relics. In this sense, Indonesia’s Minister for Education and Culture, Sjarif Thayeb, and Director-General for Culture, Hilmar Farid, show the same attitude. Their motivation can be practical (what to do with so many objects) and ideological (we do not want to depend on offers from the former coloniser but will come up with our own proposals).

Returns by the Netherlands to Indonesia in the 2010s and the 1970s

A third commonality concerns the role of the National Museum of Indonesia. Both in the 1970s and in the 2010s the museum had a close working relationship with Museum Volkenkunde in Leiden (now part of the National Museum of World Cultures). The two institutions were well acquainted with each other and aware of each other’s strengths and weaknesses. In the 2010s both sides agreed that some regional museums in Indonesia were not yet up to standard. In these latter years, the Dutch partners were reluctant to question Indonesia’s ability to take care of cultural heritage. Finally, although the kris, which the Dutch Prime Minister handed over to Indonesia’s President in November 2016, is golden and glittering, it was definitely not the most sought-after kris. That is the kris of Prince Diponegoro, which was returned in March 2020, 45 years after Indonesia had asked for it. The repatriation of part of the Nusantara collection to Indonesia is one indication of a changing trend among museums in the Netherlands. It is a first step towards a more pro-active repatriation policy, and this is a major difference with the restitution of the 1970s. There are more such indications. In September 2017, the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam announced that it had selected ten objects, acquired in the colonial period from Indonesia and Sri Lanka, for further provenance research and that it accepts the possibility that the research may result in restitutions, if these objects were obtained in an improper way.51 The announcement was a reversal in the official discussions in the Netherlands about what former colonial powers and their museums should do with the many objects that were acquired in problematic circumstances.

Notes 1

2

3 4

The VOC (Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie or United East India Company) was a Dutch chartered company for spice trade with South and Southeast Asia. It was set up in 1602 and dissolved in 1799. See https://www.vocsite.nl/ geschiedenis/tijdbalk.html (accessed 25 Jan. 2018). For the description of the return-process of part of the Nusantara collection the author draws on bulletins about the re-destination published on the museum’s website, https://nusantara-delft.weebly.com/geschiedenis.html (accessed 31 Oct. 2017), complemented by internal documents of the project group and personal communication with project group members and experts in the Netherlands and in Asia. The National Museum of World Cultures comprises the Tropenmuseum in Amsterdam, Museum Volkenkunde in Leiden, the Afrika Museum in Berg en Dal, and the World Museum in Rotterdam. See, for instance, Bambang Muryanto, “Dutch Museum to return 14,000 artifacts to RI,” The Jakarta Post, 20 Oct. 2015, http://www.thejakartapost.

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5

6

7

8

9 10

11 12 13 14 15 16 17

com/news/2015/10/20/dutch-museum-return-14000-artifacts-ri.html (accessed 20 Sept. 2016). The Sarawak Museum had asked for another 148 objects but did not get these, as they also had been requested by another Dutch museum. According to the rules of the Museum Association in the Netherlands, the Dutch museum had a stronger right. Personal communication with curator of the Sarawak Museum, 19 Sept. and 12 Oct. 2017. Indriani and Genta Tenri Mawangi, “1,500 Indonesia’s artefacts repatriated from the Netherlands,” Antaranews.com, 2 Jan. 2020, https://en.antaranews. com/news/139055/1500-indonesias-artefacts-repatriated-from-the-netherlands? fbclid=IwAR1m4FAgmHL1KjIxDbMXzvAHpbCaFjmiBiZk9m2QMx_ vTHPGtn7AB87DUD4 (accessed 6 Jan. 2020). Cynthia Scott, “Negotiating the colonial past in the age of European decolonization: Cultural property return between the Netherlands and Indonesia” (Claremont: Claremont Graduate University, 2014). Unpublished PhD dissertation. Jos van Beurden, Treasures in Trusted Hands: Negotiating the Future of Colonial Cultural Objects (Leiden: Sidestone, 2017); Caroline Drieënhuizen, “Koloniale collecties, Nederlands aanzien: De Europese elite van Nederlands Indië belicht door haar verzamelingen, 1811–1957” (Amsterdam: University of Amsterdam, 2012). Unpublished PhD dissertation; Suwati Kartiwa, “Pusaka and the Palaces of Java,” in Pusaka - Art of Indonesia, ed. Soebadio, Haryati (Jakarta: Archipelago Press with National Museum, 1992), 158–64; Mark Loderichs, “The Prince on horseback: The origins and history of Diponegoro’s saddle and reins,” in a lecture at the seminar Objects, Museums, Histories: The Case of Prince Diponegoro (Jakarta: Museum Nasional, 18 May 2016); Tular Sudarmadi, “Between colonial legacies and grassroots movements: Exploring cultural heritage practice in the Ngadha and Manggarai Region of Flores” (Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, 2014). Unpublished PhD dissertation. The resolution can be seen at http://www.un.org/en/ga/search/view_doc. asp?symbol=S/RES/67(1949) (accessed 31 Oct. 2017). Susan Legêne and Els Postel-Coster, “Isn’t it all culture? Culture and Dutch development policy in the post-colonial period,” in Fifty Years of Dutch Development Cooperation 1949–1999, ed. J.A.M. Nekkers and P. Malcontent (The Hague: Sdu Publishers, 2000), 272. The Hague: National Archive, Inv. No.2.27.19, file 4193, Letter of Prime Minister to Minister of Foreign Affairs (number U 18940), dated 6 Nov. 1968. The Hague: National Archive, Inv. No.2.27.19, file 4193, Coded message dated 21 Aug. 1974 to Ministers for Foreign Affairs, Culture, Recreation and Social Welfare, and Education and Sciences. Dirk Vlasblom, Papoea - Een geschiedenis (Amsterdam: Mets & Schilt, 2004), 181 & 265. Ibid.; 266; Sudarmadi, Between colonial legacies and grassroots movements, 88. http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/New_York_Agreement (accessed 5 July 2013). The Dutch Minister for Culture, Recreation and Social Welfare asked government servants about the statement for Antara on 17 July 1963, No. 17849, in The Hague: National Archive, Inv. No.2.27.19, file 4193. The statements in Agence France Press and Antara are mentioned in a telegram of the Dutch Consul-General in Singapore of 7 Sept. 1963, to Dutch Foreign Minister, J. Luns, in The Hague, National Archive, Inv. No. 2.27.19, file 4193.

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18

P.A.M. Malcontent, “The shadow Minister of Foreign Affairs – Development aid as a political instrument,” in Fifty Years of Dutch Development Cooperation 1949–1999, ed. J.A.M. Nekkers and P. Malcontent (The Hague: Sdu Publishers, 2000), 219–20. 19 Memo 93/78 dated 25 May 1978 by Deputy chief DOA to chief DOA for cultural relations with Indonesia, The Hague: National Archive, Foreign Ministry 1975–1984, Inv. No. 10146. 20 Interview with then cabinet member, Jan Pronk, 13 Oct. 2014. 21 Letter E.L.C. Schiff, Secretary-General of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 20 Mar. 1970, in The Hague: Archives Ministry of Foreign Affairs, DCV/ CS-43609/979GS, to Director Cultural Cooperation and Information Abroad. See also Scott, Negotiating the colonial past, 166. 22 Memorandum Head of Culture and Public Education of the Foreign Affairs Ministry to Minister for Culture, Recreation and Social Affairs, 22 Oct. 1974, DCV/CS-243378-4084GS “Historische voorwerpen uit het voormalige Nederlands-Oost-Indië afkomstig,” in The Hague: National Archive, Inv. No. 2.27.19, file 4193. The memo was a reaction to a telex message of the Dutch Ambassador in Jakarta, 16 Oct. 1974. 23 Report on Indonesian cultural objects (excluding documents) in Dutch public collections, in The Hague: National Archive, Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1975–1984, Inv. No. 10266: 13. 24 Beurden, Treasures in Trusted Hands, 138. 25 “Statement of the Indonesian Delegation on the Return of Indonesian Cultural Objects,” in The Hague: National Archive, Archive Foreign Ministry 1975– 1984, Inv. No. 10266. 26 Rob Hotke, speech dated 10 Nov. 1975, in Leiden: Museum Volkenkunde, Archive of delegation-member P. Pott, Serie-archief NL-LdnRMV 360-1. 27 The Hague: National Archive, Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1975–1984, Inv. No.10266. 28 Letter 9 Dec. 1976 Minister Van Doorne for Culture, Recreation and Social Welfare to Indonesia’s Minister for Culture and Education, Sjarif Thayeb, in The Hague: National Archive, Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1975–1984, Inv. No. 10267. 29 Note for the Council of Ministers, Apr. 1976: 3, in The Hague: National Archive, Archive of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1975–1984, Inv. No. 10266. Note of Director for Asia and Oceania to Director for Culture and Information on transfer of cultural objects, in The Hague: National Archive, Archive Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1975–1984, Inv. No. 10267. 30 Drieënhuizen, Koloniale collecties. 31 Jos van Beurden, The Return of Cultural and Historical Treasures: The Case of the Netherlands (Amsterdam: KIT Publishers, 2012), 58–62. 32 Ans Kalmeijer, “Verslag reis Indonesië 8 april - 6 mei 1978”, private archive (through Susan Legêne): 8. 33 Drieënhuizen, Koloniale collecties, 113. 34 Kartiwa, “Pusaka and the Palaces of Java,” 160; Interview with Catrini P. Kubontubuh (BPPI / Indonesian Heritage Trust), 22 June 2011. 35 Drieënhuizen, Koloniale collecties, 352 note 68. 36 Collection World Museum, Vienna, Inv. Nr. MVK 22976. Heide Leigh-Theisen (curator), e-mail message to the author, 10 Oct. 2011. 37 Personal communication with Francine Brinkgreve (curator in Museum Volkenkunde Leiden), 23 June 2011.

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The Hague: National Archive, Archive Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1975–1984, Inv. No. 10268. 39 Nationaal Museum van Wereldculturen, “Onderzoekverslag over de Keris van Diponegoro” (Leiden, 2020). Unpublished, 3. 40 Interview with Frans van Dongen (retired Dutch Ambassador), 1 June 2011. 41 Beurden, Return of Cultural and Historical Treasures, 59 & 61. 42 Rijksoverheid, press release, Nederland geeft Dolk van Javaanse verzetsheld terug aan Indonesië, Den Haag, 1 March 2020, https://www.rijksoverheid.nl/actueel/ nieuws/2020/03/04/nederland-geeft-dolk-van-javaanse-verzetsheld-terug-aanindonesie (accessed 8 March 2020). 43 http://www.nationsencyclopedia.com/Asia-and-Oceania/IndonesiaFOREIGN-TRADE.html (accessed 25 Jan. 2018). 44 Information other than about cultural relations between the two countries is from https://www.government.nl/topics/international-relations/overviewcountries-and-regions/indonesia and http://www.indonesia.cz/general-info/ (accessed 20 Sept. 2017). 45 This information comes from http://www.ind45-50.org/en/ system/404?destination=/&_exception_statuscode=404 (accessed 14 Sept. 2017). 46 Loderichs, “The Prince on horseback.” 47 Archive of the Ministerie van Cultuur, Recreatie en Maatschappelijk Werk, Nederlandse Rijksmusea 1977, Deel XCIX: 300. 48 Stijn Schoonderwoerd (director of the National Museum of World Cultures), e-mail message to the author, 26 May 2017. 49 Letter of the initiators of a new Nusantara museum to the Delft municipal government, 15 Sept. 2016. 50 The United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (2007) is an example of this trend, see http://www.un.org/esa/socdev/unpfii/documents/ DRIPS_en.pdf (accessed 25 Jan. 2018). See also Beurden, Treasures in Trusted Hands, 105–10. 51 https://www.nrc.nl/nieuws/2017/09/22/schaamte-is-mijn-kompas-daar-vaarik-op-13117614-a1574533 (accessed 28 Sept. 2017). 38

References Archive of the Ministerie van Cultuur, Recreatie en Maatschappelijk Werk, Nederlandse Rijksmusea 1977, Deel XCIX. Beurden, Jos van. The Return of Cultural and Historical Treasures: The Case of the Netherlands. Amsterdam: KIT Publishers, 2012. Also: https://issuu.com/ kitpublishers/docs/the_return_of__cultural_lr. ___ . Treasures in Trusted Hands: Negotiating the Future of Colonial Cultural Objects. Leiden: Sidestone, 2017. Drieënhuizen, Caroline. “Koloniale collecties, Nederlands aanzien: De Europese elite van Nederlands Indië belicht door haar verzamelingen, 1811–1957.” Amsterdam: University of Amsterdam, 2012. Unpublished PhD dissertation. http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/New_York_Agreement. http://www.ind45-50.org/en/system/404?destination=/&_exception_ statuscode=404. http://www.indonesia.cz/general-info/. http://www.nationsencyclopedia.com/Asia-and-Oceania/Indonesia-FOREIGNTRADE.html. http://www.un.org/en/ga/search/view_doc.asp?symbol=S/RES/67(1949).

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http://www.un.org/esa/socdev/unpfii/documents/DRIPS_en.pdf. https://www.government.nl/topics/international-relations/overview-countries-andregions/indonesia. https://www.nrc.nl/nieuws/2017/09/22/schaamte-is-mijn-kompas-daar-vaar-ik-op13117614-a1574533https://nusantara-delft.weebly.com/geschiedenis.html. https://www.rijksoverheid.nl/actueel/nieuws/2020/03/04/nederland-geeft-dolk-van javaanse-verzetsheld-terug-aan-indonesie. https://www.vocsite.nl/geschiedenis/tijdbalk.html. Indriani and Genta Tenri Mawangi. “1,500 Indonesia’s artefacts repatriated from the Netherlands.” Antaranews.com, 2 January 2020. https://en.antaranews. com/news/139055/1500-indonesias-artefacts-repatriated-from-the-netherlan ds?fbclid=IwAR1m4FAgmHL1KjIxDbMXzvAHpbCaFjmiBiZk9m2Q Mx_vTHPGtn7AB87DUD4 (accessed 6 January 2020). Kalmeijer, Ans, “Verslag reis Indonesië 8 april - 6 mei 1978”, private archive (through Susan Legêne). Kartiwa, Suwati. “Pusaka and the Palaces of Java.” In Pusaka – Art of Indonesia, edited by Haryati Soebadio, 158–64. Jakarta: Archipelago Press with National Museum, 1992. Legêne, Susan and Els Postel-Coster. “Isn’t it all culture? Culture and Dutch development policy in the post-colonial period.” In Fifty Years of Dutch Development Cooperation 1949–1999, edited by J.A.M. Nekkers and P. Malcontent, 271–88. The Hague: Sdu Publishers, 2000. Leiden: Museum Volkenkunde, Archive of delegation-member P. Pott, Serie-archief NL-LdnRMV 360-1. Letter of the initiators of a new Nusantara museum to the Delft municipal government, 15 Sept. 2016. Loderichs, Mark. “The Prince on the horseback: The origins and history of Diponegoro’s saddle and reins.” Lecture at the seminar Objects, Museums, Histories. The Case of Prince Diponegoro. Jakarta: National Museum of Indonesia, 18 May 2016. Malcontent, P.A.M. “The shadow Minister of Foreign Affairs – Development aid as a political Instrument.” In Fifty Years of Dutch Development Cooperation 1949–1999, edited by J.A.M. Nekkers and P. Malcontent, 209–26. The Hague: Sdu Publishers, 2000. Memorandum Head of Culture and Public Education of the Foreign Affairs Ministry to Minister for Culture, Recreation and Social Affairs, 22 Oct. 1974, DCV/CS-243378-4084GS “Historische voorwerpen uit het voormalige Nederlands-Oost-Indië afkomstig”. Muryanto, Bambang. “Dutch Museum to return 14,000 artifacts to RI.” The Jakarta Post, 20 Oct. 2015. http://www.thejakartapost.com/ news/2015/10/20/dutch-museum-return-14000-artifacts-ri.html (accessed 20 Sept. 2016). National Museum van Wereldculturen. “Onderzoekverslag over de Keris van Diponegoro.” Leiden, 2020. Unpublished. Scott, Cynthia. “Negotiating the colonial past in the age of European decolonization: Cultural property return between the Netherlands and Indonesia.” Claremont: Claremont Graduate University, 2014. Unpublished PhD dissertation. Sudarmadi, Tular. “Between colonial legacies and grassroots movements: Exploring cultural heritage practice in the Ngadha and Manggarai Region of Flores.”

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Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, 2014. Unpublished PhD dissertation. The Hague: Archives Ministry of Foreign Affairs, DCV/CS-43609/979GS. The Hague: National Archive, Inv. No. 2.27.19 file 4193. The Hague: National Archive, Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1975–84, Inv. No. 10266. The Hague: National Archive, Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1975–84, Inv. No. 10267. Vlasblom, Dirk. Papoea - Een geschiedenis. Amsterdam: Mets & Schilt, 2004.

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PART III: MUSEUMS, RESTITUTION, AND CULTURAL IDENTITIES

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Chapter 9

THE RETURN OF CULTURAL PROPERTY AND NATIONAL IDENTITY IN POSTCOLONIAL INDONESIA Wieske Sapardan

INTRODUCTION Following the period of decolonisation, marked by the adoption of the United Nations General Assembly Declaration on the Granting of Independence to Colonial Countries and People (UNGA 1514 XV) in 1960,1 the 1970s witnessed many claims by former colonised countries for the return of cultural objects appropriated in the colonial context to their countries of origin. For example, the return of cultural property from the Netherlands to Indonesia2 and from Belgium to the Congo (then Zaire).3 The 1970s also marked an important milestone for international efforts to protect movable cultural property in its place of origin through the adoption of the UNESCO Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property in 1970. This convention deals not only with “cultural objects removed by theft, clandestine exaction and illegal export”, but also with cultural objects taken in colonial circumstances as well as cultural objects removed from indigenous communities.4 However, some countries faced difficulties in ratifying this international convention. This could be due to conflict with their national laws or politically sensitive issues. There are also cases where international legal frameworks were not sufficiently developed to cover specific issues. For example, the return of human remains or sacred objects taken from communities due to matters not directly related to colonialism but due to scientific purposes.5 Thus, hard laws to resolve disputes about cultural heritage objects might not always be the solution; in some cases, soft laws such as declarations and ethical guidelines could be used as reference.6 It is in this regard that the “Plea for the Return of Irreplaceable Cultural Heritage to Those Who Created it” by the

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Director-General of UNESCO, Mr Amadou-Mahtar M’Bow, on 7 June 1978 was made. The plea laid out a number of ethical bases for the return to the people of “at least the art treasures which best represent their culture, which they feel are the most vital and whose absence caused them the greatest anguish”.7 This plea also highlighted how the return shall “recover part of the memory and identity” of the people whose ancestors have created them. These cultural objects are considered to represent the group’s national identity and their significance increases since the control of these objects also carries substantial economic consequences, namely with regard to museums and tourism.8 Efforts have been made by international organisations, national governments, and scholars to formulate principles and procedures to guide the return of the material culture removed, misappropriated, or looted during wartime and peacetime through illicit export. For example, the inter-governmental committee of the UNESCO 1970 Convention created a Standard Form concerning Requests for Return or Restitution, the International Council of Museums (ICOM) adopted the ICOM Code of Ethics for Museums in 1986 which was later amended in 2001 and revised in 2004, and the International Law Association (ILA) adopted the ILA Principles for Cooperation in the Mutual Protection and Transfer of Cultural Material in 2006.9 Within the postcolonial context, the return of cultural objects is often linked to efforts to strengthen the cultural and national identity of the people of former colonised territories. It is in this context that I would like to discuss the return of objects from the Netherlands to Indonesia and the extent to which the returned cultural property contributes to building national identity. Focusing primarily on the life of an object, the Prajnaparamita statue, this chapter will also discuss how restitution contributes to the shifting values and meanings of cultural objects through an analysis of the different values attributed to cultural heritage10 and socio-political histories. Arjun Appadurai argues that “politics in the broad sense of relations, assumptions, and contests pertaining to power is what links value and exchange in the social life” of objects.11 Culturally constructed objects are “endowed with culturally specific meanings” and how they are put to use, defined and categorised into culturally established classifications throughout their social life is what makes their cultural biography.12 This chapter will start with an overview of the history of the collecting and representation of the Prajnaparamita statue in the colonial period. It will be followed by a review of how the statue has been presented after its return to Indonesia by the Netherlands in the 1970s, when discourses about cultural heritage restitution were at a peak; it will also discuss issues in the present day. The chapter concludes with an analysis of how the return of cultural property contributes not only to

The Return of Cultural Property and National Identity in Postcolonial Indonesia

strengthening national identity but also to promoting cultural diplomacy and international development cooperation. THE LIFE OF THE PRAJNAPARAMITA STATUE The statue of Prajnaparamita, currently kept at the National Museum of Indonesia, is depicted sitting in the lotus position on a round lotus cushion on a rectangular base. Her hands are raised in front of her chest in dharmacakra mudra position – the gesture symbolising the Turning of the Wheel of the Law.13 The intricate carving and serene appearance of this Buddhist statue of the goddess of transcendental wisdom have long captivated viewers,14 and it has been considered by many as the bestknown icon of Indonesian art.15 The exact date and provenance of the statue is uncertain. J.L.A. Brandes, in his description of Singasari, proposed that the statue of Prajnaparamita was found near the ruins of the 13th-century Singasari temple in East Java by D. Monnereau, a Dutch colonial officer, around 1818 during Dutch colonial rule of the Dutch East Indies (present-day Indonesia).16 Monnereau gave this statue to the Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences.17 Based on the instruction of C.G.C. Reinwardt, the statue – along with 29 other stone sculptures found in East Java – was then shipped to the Netherlands in 1822.18 In addition to his role as “Director of matters of Agriculture, Arts and Science on the island of Java and Dependencies” (1816–22),19 a role which entailed promoting scholarly research on natural science and culture, Reinwardt also received a special task from King Willem I of the Netherlands (1772–1843) to collect Javanese antiquities for the “mother country”.20 Interest in Javanese antiquities especially emerged when Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles published a two-volume book, The History of Java, in 1817. During the British interregnum on Java in 1811–16, Raffles was appointed as Lieutenant Governor and also accepted the Presidency of the Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences in 1813. He demonstrated a great interest in “anything related to knowledge and history of the islands in the East Indies”.21 His studies and documentation of agriculture, architecture, culture and ways of life of the people in Java were published in the aforementioned book, while many of the objects he collected and the drawings made by his team members are now part of the collections of the British Museum and the British Library.22 Europeans no doubt considered Javanese Buddhist and Hindu stone sculptures as “antiquities” since these statues exhibit the sacred past of the ancient civilisation and the people who produced them. By the time the Javanese stone sculptures were introduced to Europeans in the late 18th to mid-19th century, most residents of Java had converted to Islam. Given

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9.1

The Return of Cultural Property and National Identity in Postcolonial Indonesia

this, Europeans assumed that Javanese Buddhist and Hindu religions and ways of life belonged to the past. The arrival of the Reinwardt collection at the National Museum of Antiquities (Rijksmuseum van Oudheden) in Leiden in 1823 marked the establishment of the Indian Department at this museum.23 During the 19th century, the Prajnaparamita statue and other Javanese stone sculptures were displayed at the Museum of Antiquities along with other antiquities from Rome, Greece and Egypt. By means of displaying the exquisite sculptures together, it is clear that, at this time, the Javanese stone sculptures were considered to have the aesthetic and cultural value which met Western standards and taste for inclusion in the category of antiquities from the “civilised” world.24 In the early 20th century, there was a change in the position and relationship between archaeological and ethnographic museums in the Netherlands.25 In 1903 the Netherlands Museum Committee decided the following: “The antiquities of peoples of Northern Africa, Western Asia and Europe, whose civilisation should be regarded as a predecessor to ours, must find their place in the Museum of Antiquities; all the rest in the Museum of Ethnography.”26 Subsequently, the Prajnaparamita statue, together with 2,355 ancient Indonesian objects from the Rijksmuseum van Oudheden (RMO-National Museum of Antiquities), was transferred to the Rijksmuseum Volkenkunde (RMV-National Museum of Ethnology) in 1903.27 When the RMV re-opened in a new building in 1937, a large part of the ground floor was reserved for displaying the extensive collection from the Dutch East Indies. The display was geographically arranged and divided into the four major islands of the Dutch East Indies archipelago (Java, Sumatra, Borneo and Celebes) and a special room was dedicated to displaying the selected Javanese Buddhist and Hindu stone sculpture collection.28 It is possible that by juxtaposing the Javanese Buddhist and Hindu stone sculpture collection with ethnographic objects from other parts of the Dutch East Indies, the display arrangement was aimed at demonstrating the evolutionary scheme of the people from the Dutch East Indies colony. The ethnographic objects from other parts of the Dutch East Indies were showcased using dioramas in order to be represented as “primitive” cultures, while the Javanese stone sculptures were showcased on plinths as “signifiers of art” in order to be seen as symbols of “civilised” ancient cultures of the peoples in the colony.29 Sharon Macdonald points out that “collections allowed nation-states to show their possession and mastery of the world – something that colonial powers were especially well able to demonstrate through the accumulation of material culture from the countries that they colonised”.30 Louise Tythacott observes that “… evolutionary displays visualised unequal power relations between peoples and implied the need for progress from ‘primitive’ to ‘civilised’”.31

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Fig. 9.1 Prajnaparamita statue, the goddess of transcendental wisdom. Collection of the National Museum of Indonesia. Inventory Number 1403/1387.

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9.2

The Return of Cultural Property and National Identity in Postcolonial Indonesia

Returning to our earlier question of the value and meaning of the Prajnaparamita statue during the colonial period, it can be seen that the display in the Dutch East Indies gallery of the RMV conveyed the message of Dutch “total appropriation”32 of the civilisation of their colony. The objects from the Dutch East Indies contributed to fostering Dutch national identity and pride as the appropriation of the objects was orchestrated to increase understanding and control over the colonised peoples. After Indonesia proclaimed its independence in 1945, the tension between the newly independent state and its former colonising country continued. Useful accounts of the situation in both Indonesia and the Netherlands, as well as the dynamics of the bilateral negotiations of the two countries especially pertaining to transfer of cultural heritage objects between 1945 to 1979, are discussed in two publications: Treasures in Trusted Hands: Negotiating the Future of Colonial Cultural Objects (2017) by Jos van Beurden and Renewing the “Special Relationship” and Rethinking the Return of Cultural Property: the Netherlands and Indonesia, 1949–79 (2017) by Cynthia Scott. As a newly independent nation state, “Indonesia asked for the return of objects that were ‘unique’, a source of national pride” and “a fundamental contribution to the development of national consciousness of the very diverse population of the Indonesian archipelago”.33 Hence, the Prajnaparamita statue, which is considered one of the masterpieces from Indonesia, and four other statues originating from the Singasari temple, were on the list of objects requested by the Indonesian government. The long negotiation between these two countries begun in 1949 culminated in 1976 with the “Joint Recommendations by the Dutch and Indonesian Team of Experts Concerning Cultural Cooperation in the Field of Museums and Archives including Transfer of Objects” in which both countries agreed the transfer of objects from the Netherlands to Indonesia in several phases within a five-year period.34 The first phase which required immediate transfer included “state-owned objects linked directly with persons of major historical and cultural importance, or with crucial historical events in Indonesia”.35 Among these objects were the Prajnaparamita statue, the crown of Lombok, and other treasures from Lombok, which were kept in the Netherlands.36 On 27 April 1978, as a follow up to this Joint Recommendation, the formal transfer of the Prajnaparamita statue was made through the signatory of the Deed of Transfer by the Netherlands Ambassador for Indonesia and the Indonesian Minister of Education and Culture.37 It was only the Prajnaparamita statue which was transferred to Indonesia while the other four statues from Singasari were kept in the Netherlands. The handover ceremony was held in Jakarta on the occasion of the second centenary of the Batavian Society – presently National Museum of Indonesia – and garnered positive media coverage.38 Scott

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Fig. 9.2 The gallery of the Museum of Antiquities, Leiden, in Magasin pittoresque November: 377 (Anonymous, 1861). Leiden University Libraries.

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argued that the return of the statue might be perceived by Dutch officials as an acknowledgement of the role of the Dutch in the early establishment and operation of the Batavian Society during the colonial period which was later succeeded by its Indonesian counterpart and at the same time showcased a “gesture of goodwill” in response to the Indonesian request for the return of cultural heritage collected by and deposited in other countries.39 Scott also notes that the transfer might be considered “as an example of the mutually reinforcing nature of the cultural relations policy at that point”.40 Although there may not have been direct intervention from UNESCO in the Dutch-Indonesian negotiations concerning the claim and return of cultural property at that time, UNESCO considered the Dutch-Indonesian case as one of the positive examples of the return of cultural property in the postcolonial context and publicised this case in their museum journal in 1979.41 Scott further notes that the UNESCO publicity contributed to strengthening the image of the Dutch for their cooperation and goodwill, while, on the other hand, UNESCO also conveyed a message that “returns could help honour the achievements of the colonial past” and strengthen cultural cooperation between the former colonial power and the colony by highlighting DutchIndonesian bilateral negotiations.42 Since its repatriation to the National Museum of Indonesia, the Prajnaparamita statue has been considered by Indonesians as one of the nation’s most significant artworks. The discovery of the Prajnaparamita statue in the early 19th century led to scholarly discussion that the sculpture not only represents a Buddhist goddess, but also portrays a historical figure.43 Scholars have explored possible connections between the Prajnaparamita statue and Ken Dedes (the Queen of the 13th-century Singasari kingdom) and Rajapatni (the Queen of the 14th-century Majapahit empire). O’Brien points out that the role of royal females in classical Javanese kingship was important – regardless of religious preference.44 It is thus thought that by seeing this statue at the National Museum of Indonesia, national visitors are able to associate themselves with the history of the great ancient Hindu-Buddhist kingdoms of the Indonesian archipelago, and that this viewing experience eventually augments their pride and love of country in appreciation of their ancestors’ achievement. It seems right to suggest that the Prajnaparamita statue at the National Museum of Indonesia productively functions within the three pillars of Indonesian museum policy – the education of the nation, the building of Indonesian national identity and character, and the strengthening of the concept of national resilience across the entire Indonesian archipelago.45

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On another note, the National Museum of Indonesia’s vision statement declares that in addition to the education of the nation and fostering pride in the national culture, the museum should serve to strengthen unity and international cooperation. In 2003, a cooperative project entitled “Shared Cultural Heritage” was initiated by officials from respective museums in the Netherlands and the National Museum of Indonesia. This project was developed in order to respond to the request from the Indonesian government to showcase the Dutch objects collected during the colonial period and still kept in foreign countries.46 Scott points out that the Dutch

9.3

Fig. 9.3 Prajnaparamita statue in the Ancestors and Ritual exhibition, 2017 Europalia Arts Festival. The exhibition showcases how Indonesian art and identities were influenced by other cultures and religions. Photograph by Nusi Lisabilla Estudiantin.

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Government feared that this request might lead to claims for the return of cultural heritage, hence, rather than going through a long negotiation process – which is what happened between 1949 and 1979 – a cooperative project was established.47 The “Shared Cultural Heritage” programme promotes international cooperation and the exchange of knowledge. Within the framework of this project, the exhibition Indonesia: The Discovery of the Past, a result of collaboration between the National Museum of Indonesia and the Rijksmuseum voor Volkenkunde, was held at the National Museum of Indonesia in Jakarta from 15 August–13 November 2005 and in the Nieuwe Kerk Dam Square in Amsterdam from 17 December 2005 to 17 April 2006. The exhibition showcased Javanese Hindu-Buddhist statues collected in the 19th century, with the statues from the Singasari period both from Jakarta’s and Leiden’s collections, including the Prajnaparamita statue. Through her analysis of two publications resulting from this project – Indonesia: The Discovery of the Past (2006) edited by Endang Sri Herdiati and Pieter ter Keurs and Colonial Collections Revisited (2007) edited by Pieter ter Keurs – Scott argues that the “Shared Cultural Heritage” project demonstrates the efforts of European governments “to advance the idea of sharing the material heritage of the colonial past in ways that diminish diplomatic conflict and forestall the conflict of return”.48 This project has contributed to strengthening cooperation between the Netherlands and Indonesia by focusing on the common origins of the collection of both the National Museum of Indonesia and the Rijksmuseum voor Volkenkunde – two collections that were formed by the same collectors with materials from the same location – rather than focusing on the claim for the return of the objects.49 RESTITUTION AND THE SHIFTING VALUE OF THE OBJECT In analysing Appadurai’s “regimes of value”,50 I shall use the categorisation of different values of cultural heritage objects that the archaeologist Noel Fojut51 established, namely: • intrinsic (of value for itself and for the information it contains); • institutional (of value as a focus and catalyst for communal action which can strengthen bonds and lubricate wider social functions); • instrumental (of value as a contributor to some other social objective, for example as a means of conveying general education or developing particular skills); • economic (of value as an asset which, when used sustainably, can generate financial revenue for the benefit of governments, entrepreneurs and the general populace).

The Return of Cultural Property and National Identity in Postcolonial Indonesia

The intrinsic value of the Prajnaparamita statue remains the same during the colonial time and the present-day. It has always been described as the 13th-century Buddhist statue found near the ruins of the Singasari temple in East Java by D. Monnereau in the early 19th century. The institutional value of the statue could be seen from its display in museums in the Netherlands and the National Museum of Indonesia. In the Netherlands, the statue was displayed in a “universal museum” and, as Macdonald points out, objects in 19th-century universal art galleries were mostly presented as representatives of particular styles and classified by “both ‘period’ and ‘civilisation’ or ‘nationality’ and being spatially organised such that visitors could take an educational tour through the progress of art over time, crossing continents and experiencing characteristic differences”.52 Thus, the institutional value of the Prajnaparamita statue lay within the context of objects from other parts of the world from which the visitors could learn about the civilisation and esteemed art of others. To analyse the institutional value of the Prajnaparamita statue at the National Museum of Indonesia, we could refer to the hierarchical relations between collecting institutions, people who produced the objects and spectators.53 The objects at the National Museum of Indonesia are collected from different parts of the Indonesian archipelago and from different time periods. The history of collecting practices is inseparable from the establishment of the museum as the Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences in 1778. The collection – most of which was produced by the ancestors and people of the Indonesian archipelago – represents several categories such as prehistory, archaeology, history, ceramics, numismatics, anthropology/ethnography and geography.54 Taylor notes that the goals of most Indonesian museums always include representing “unity in diversity”55 in the archipelago.56 While most of the pre-Islamic statues and inscriptions are on display in the old building (Building A), the Prajnaparamita statue is on display in the Treasure Room on the fourth floor of the new building (Building B). The collection in the Treasure Room includes gold artefacts, heirloom regalia acquired from royal houses in the archipelago as well as objects transferred from the Netherlands, such as the Lombok gold and silver treasures, taken by Dutch soldiers in 1841 and transferred to the National Museum of Indonesia in 1977; the spear and saddle of Prince Diponegoro, captured and brought to the Netherlands as war trophies in 1829, and Diponegoro’s pilgrim’s staff, acquired and brought to the Netherlands by the Governor-General J.C. Baron Baud in 1834 and later returned by Baud’s descendants to Indonesia in 2015.57 The display of the Prajnaparamita statue at this location, together with other treasures including those transferred from the Netherlands, shows

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the institutional value of the statue as an “art treasure” of the people of Indonesia which is considered unique and to best represent their history. Turning now to the analysis of the instrumental value of the Prajnaparamita statue, during the colonial period, the competition among colonising countries such as Britain, France, Spain and the Netherlands contributed to how they perceived the value of cultural objects appropriated from their colonies. In the context of imperialism and colonialism, the sacred and refined Javanese Buddhist art was seen as part of Dutch possessions and the civilisation of “others” dominated by the Dutch colonial power. This civilisation was seen as “belonging to a single large human civilisation, of which the European cultures were also part”.58 The control of highly valued objects coming from the colonies contributed to strengthening Dutch national pride as a colonising country since it also reflected their control over civilisations in the colonies. Likewise, the return of the Prajnaparamita statue to Indonesia and its deposit at the National Museum of Indonesia contributes to strengthening Indonesian national pride and identity. Reichle points out that while Buddhist images were used to highlight the power and legitimacy of the regime in the 13th and 14th centuries, these images are still used to “create and reinforce a sense of national history and national pride” by the Indonesian state.59 The Prajnaparamita statue is often associated with the 13th-century Singasari Queen of Ken Dedes (the royal consort of Ken Arok – who died around 1227 – the founder of the Singasari kingdom [1222–92], and the ancestor of all Singasari and Majapahit rulers) and Rajapatni (the Queen of the 14th-century Majapahit empire [1293–1519] – who died around 1350).60 These queens are considered the women behind the “golden age” of the late Indonesian classical period.61 Ken Dedes, with her legendary flaming womb, is believed to bear the characteristics of an ardhanaresvari 62 and whoever marries a woman with this quality will become a cakravartin (the sovereign of the world). Thus, Ken Arok married Ken Dedes and became the founder of the Singasari kingdom. Upon the downfall of the Singasari kingdom, due to attack from the Kediri kingdom, the descendants of Ken Arok and Ken Dedes are said to have established the Majapahit empire.63 The historically documented Rajapatni, the supposed great granddaughter of Ken Arok and Ken Dedes and the daughter of the last king of Singasari, was married to King Sri Kertarajasa, the founder the Majapahit empire. Majapahit became a great empire during the reign of King Rajasanagara (1350–89) – the grandson of Rajapatni – and its area covered all of Java, Bali, parts of Sumatra, parts of Kalimantan, the Moluccas and West New Guinea (more or less the whole archipelago of the modern Republic of Indonesia).64

The Return of Cultural Property and National Identity in Postcolonial Indonesia

The Prajnaparamita statue and its association with the great female figures of the late Indonesian classical period signifies two things. First, it embodies the memory of the great kingdoms of ancient Java and the “golden age” of the ancient polity of which Indonesians are proud. Secondly, it can be seen as a symbol of identity that brings legitimacy to the nation state. The ardhanaresvari quality imbued in the statue might be seen as the source for accumulating power for the prosperity of the nation. This is what explains why the Prajnaparamita statue, together with the crown of Lombok, were among the objects requested by the Indonesian delegation in the first phase of transfers from the Netherlands. The two instrumental values of the Prajnaparamita statue, during the colonial period and in the postcolonial period, are comparable. However, the socio-political context in which this statue has been displayed and used determines the shifting value and meaning of the object. Whilst in the colonial context it was used to support colonial and “imperial propaganda”, in the postcolonial context it is used to “support an exclusive collective identity”65 and reinforce a sense of unity and national consciousness within diverse communities of people in the Indonesian archipelago. Having discussed the three categories of value, I will now address the economic value of the Prajnaparamita statue. Paul Basu and Wayne Modest note that “heritage, as a commoditised past, may be regarded as an important economic resource … the recognition of the economic potential of heritage is a major driver for many ‘culture for development’ initiatives”.66 Although we may not be able to have a fixed economic value for the Prajnaparamita statue, as it has never been sold or purchased since its discovery in the 19th century, we could relate its economic value to a greater agenda. In the colonial context, the primary interest of the colonising countries was the exploitation of colonies for profit.67 Thus, objects from the colonies helped the colonisers understand the way of life and the cultures of the people in colonised areas, which led to the control of people and resources of the colonised area for the economic benefit of the colonising state. In the postcolonial context, although we may still not be able to measure the fixed economic value of the Prajnaparamita statue, the object cannot be separated from the development agenda of a new nation state. In fact, Professor Mantra, leader of the Indonesian delegation in 1975 during the negotiations for the return of cultural properties from the Netherlands to Indonesia, clearly stated that the claim was made “in the context of cultural development, strengthening national identity and improving the overall economic, political and social condition of the country … which enables the Government of Indonesia to pay more attention to … cultural development”.68

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In considering the economic value of the Prajnaparamita statue for Indonesia in the present day, we should take into account the most recent exhibition in which it was displayed, Ancestors and Rituals, at the Palais des Beaux Arts, in Brussels, Belgium. This was one of the three main exhibitions held as part of the 2017 Europalia Arts Festival organised in seven European countries from 10 October 2017 to 21 January 2018. This biennial festival is one of the largest arts festivals in Europe, and Indonesia was the first ever Southeast Asian guest country at the festival, which has been held since 1969.69 The overall theme of the 2017 Europalia Arts Festival – Indonesia was “Heritage, Contemporary Art, Creation, and Exchange”. More than 240 cultural programmes were presented, including 20 exhibitions, 71 dance and theatre performances, 95 musical performances and 9 conferences and seminars. Indonesian Vice President, Jusuf Kalla, stated in his remarks that Indonesia’s participation in the festival would strengthen the image of Indonesia as a rich country in arts and culture with diverse language and traditions. “Europalia is a tool to strengthen socio-cultural relationships as well as people-to-people relationship.”70 He further emphasised the role of cultural diplomacy in strengthening not only socio-cultural cooperation but also business and economic cooperation between Indonesia and international partners.71 Prior to Indonesia’s participation in Europalia, in 2017, the Government of Indonesia issued the first ever Law on the Advancement of Culture which stipulates the use of objects to enhance Indonesia’s active role and influence in international relations through cultural diplomacy and increased international cooperation in the field of culture.72 This Law also outlines the objects of the advancement of culture, which include oral traditions, manuscripts, customs, rituals, traditional knowledge, traditional technology, arts, language, traditional games and sports. The issuance of this law, as well as Indonesia’s active participation in Europalia, demonstrates Indonesia’s desire to use cultural heritage as a “generator” of social and economic capital whilst strengthening national identity and promoting cultural diversity.73 CONCLUSION The return of cultural property to its country of origin might be seen as a means of promoting international cooperation. In the case of the Netherlands and Indonesia, the return of the Prajnaparamita statue to Indonesia has helped the reconciliation of the former colonising country and its colony in the postcolonial context. The long negotiation process concluded not only with the return of objects of national importance and identity but also strengthened cultural cooperation. The 1976 Joint Recommendations clearly stated the intentions of both countries in

The Return of Cultural Property and National Identity in Postcolonial Indonesia

“promoting mutual understanding and appreciation of each other’s cultural heritage and history” by making cultural property and archival materials available for further study and exhibition in the other country.74 This intention was followed by a number of initiatives such as cooperation programmes, joint exhibitions and research which further strengthened the Netherlands-Indonesia cultural relationship. The values of the Prajnaparamita statue have been enriched throughout its cultural biography. It represents the history of the people whose ancestors have created it, and has enriched Indonesia’s social life, from its “discovery” by foreigners and the representation of the statue in the Netherlands before its return to Indonesia. The cultural biography and history of the Prajnaparamita statue will always be linked to the Dutch, and this is clearly written on the object label at the National Museum of Indonesia: “The Prajnaparamita. Inv. No. 17774. Discovered by Monnereau in 1818 near the remains of the Wayang Temple in Singasari”. In addition to the Prajnaparamita, there are other statues which originated from Singasari and are still held in the Netherlands. These are Durga Slaying the Demon Mahisa, Shiva as Kala of Bhairava, Mahakala and Nandisvara as the Gate Keeper, Nandi and Ganesha. After 1978, there has been no further official request from the government of Indonesia for the return of these other statues. According to Law No. 11 Year 2010 concerning Cultural Heritage Property, official representatives of the Indonesian government abroad are responsible for nominating objects, which are found outside Indonesia, to the National Register of Cultural Heritage Properties. Efforts have yet to be made to nominate the Singasari statues still held in the Netherlands to the national register. It is of importance here that the Law also notes that the designation of cultural heritage property shall take into account the rarity of the type of cultural object, the uniqueness of design, and rarity in terms of numbers. This may mitigate against further requests being made for the return of the other Singasari statues insofar as the Prajnaparamita statue is seen to represent the finest of the collection. In this context it is in fact likely that the transfer of the Prajnaparamita statue by the Netherlands has effectively enabled the Museum Volkenkunde in Leiden to retain the other Singasari statues. Thus, by transferring the ownership of one treasure, the “remaining treasures would be ‘cleared’ and become undisputed”.75 The political dynamics between these two countries, and other factors including for example the evolving positive attitudes towards restitution harboured by younger Dutch generations, will determine whether or not future requests for the transfer will occur. It should also be said that the Prajnaparamita statue – as an example of cultural property returned to the country of its origin – continues to be

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enjoyed and seen by the general public not only in Indonesia but in other parts of the world. This is to say that the return has not hindered its “universal” value and global appreciation. For example, the statue was showcased in The Sculpture of Indonesia exhibition held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York in 1991 and also, as mentioned, in the Ancestors and Rituals exhibition in Brussels from 2017 to 2018. The international exhibitions provided opportunities for international audiences to learn about Indonesian history and culture, as the statue was presented in ways aimed to enable visitors from different cultural backgrounds to appreciate both its specific historical and cultural values and its status as a masterpiece.

Fig. 9.4 Prajnaparamita statue in the Ancestors and Ritual exhibition, 2017 Europalia Arts Festival. The statue was displayed on a plinth to enable visitors to appreciate its status as a masterpiece. Photograph by Daud Aris Tanudirjo.

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The Return of Cultural Property and National Identity in Postcolonial Indonesia

Notes Lyndel V. Prott, Strength and Weaknesses of the 1970 Convention: an Evaluation 40 Years after its Adoption, 20–21 June 2012 (Paris: UNESCO, 2012), 2. 2 See Ardiyansyah, chapter 7 and Beurden, chapter 8.  3 Lyndel V. Prott, “The Ethics and Law of Returns,” Museum International 241–2 (2009): 101–6. 4 Ibid., 104–5. 5 Ibid., 101–6. 6 Ibid. 7 Mounir Bouchenaki, “Return and Restitution of Cultural Property in the Wake of the 1970 Convention,” Museum International 241–2 (2009): 139–44. 8 Elazar Barkan, “Making Amends: A New International Morality?” in Witnesses to History: A Compendium of Documents and Writings of the Return of Cultural Objects, ed. Lyndel V Prott (Paris: UNESCO, 2009), 86. 9 Lyndel V. Prott, “The History and Development of Processes for the Recovery of Cultural Heritage,” in Witnesses to History: A Compendium of Documents and Writings of the Return of Cultural Objects, ed. Lyndel V. Prott (Paris: UNESCO, 2009), 2–18. 10 Noel Fojut, “The Philosophical, Political and Pragmatic Roots of the Convention,” in Heritage and Beyond (Strasbourg: Council of Europe, 2009), 17–8. 11 Arjun Appadurai, “Introduction: Commodities and the Politics of Value,” in The Social Life of Things: Commodities in Cultural Perspective, ed. Arjun Appadurai (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 57. 12 Igor Kopytoff, “The Cultural Biography of Things: Commoditization as Process,” in The Social Life of Things: Commodities in Cultural Perspective, ed. Arjun Appadurai (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 64–91. 13 Jan Fontein, Soekmono, and Edi Sedyawati, The Sculpture of Indonesia (Washington D.C., New York: National Gallery of Art, 1990), 160. 14 Natasha Reichle, Violence and Serenity: Late Buddhist Sculpture from Indonesia (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2007), 51. 15 Ann Kinney, Marijke J. Klokke, and Lydia Kieven, Worshipping Siva and Buddha: The Temple Art of East Java (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2003), 148. 16 J.L.A. Brandes: 1909 cited in Fontein, Soekmono, and Sedyawati, The Sculpture of Indonesia, 160; Reichle, Violence and Serenity, 53. 17 The Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences (present-day National Museum of Indonesia) was established in 1778 by the Dutch colonial government. It was an independent society aimed at providing expert scientific research and analysis relating to all economic and cultural aspects of the Dutch East Indies and its peoples. See Endang Sri Hardiati, “From Batavian Society to Indonesian National Museum,” in Indonesia: The Discovery of the Past, ed. Endang Sri Hardiati and Pieter ter Keurs (Amsterdam: Kit, 2006), 11 and Wardiman Djojonegoro, “The History of the National Museum,” in Indonesian Art: Treasures of the National Museum, Jakarta, ed. Tara Sosrowardoyo (Singapore: Periplus, 1998), 16. 18 Pauline Lunsingh Scheurleer, “Collecting Javanese Antiquities: The Appropriation of a Newly Discovered Hindu-Buddhist Civilization,” in Colonial Collections Revisited, ed. Pieter ter Keurs (Leiden: CNWS Publications, 2007), 87. 1

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Rudolf Antonius Hermanus Dominique Effert, Royal Cabinets and Auxiliary Branches: Origins of the National Museum of Ethnology, 1816–1883 (Leiden: CNWS Publications, 2008), 189. 20 In the colonial context, the colonising countries used to exploit their colonies’ territory and the indigenous population for the benefit of the so-called “mother country”. See Effert, Royal Cabinets and Auxiliary Branches, 189; Scheurleer, “Collecting Javanese Antiquities,” 87; Edi Sedyawati and Pieter ter Keurs, “Scholarship, Curiosity and Politics: Collecting in a Colonial Context,” in Indonesia: The Discovery of the Past, ed. Endang Sri Hardiati and Pieter ter Keurs (Amsterdam: Kit, 2006), 20–33. 21 Wardiman Djojonegoro, “The evolution of the National Museum,” in Icons of art: the collections of the National Museum Jakarta, ed. Retno Sulistianingsih Sitowati and John N. Miksic (Jakarta: BAB Publishing Indonesia, 2006), 47. 22 Scheurleer, Collecting Javanese Antiquities, 86, 102. 23 See Scheurleer, Collecting Javanese Antiquities, 87 and Effert, Royal Cabinets and Auxiliary Branches, 5. 24 Wieske Sapardan, “Ancient Indonesian Buddhist and Hindu stone sculptures at the Rijksmuseum Volkenkunde in Leiden: A history of collecting, representation and display” (London: SOAS University of London, 2015). Unpublished Master’s thesis. 25 Ger D. van Wengen, “Indonesian collections at the National Museum of Ethnology in Leiden,” in Treasure Hunting? Collectors and Collections of Indonesian Artefacts, ed. Reimar Schefold and Han F. Vermeulen (Leiden: CNWS, 2002), 87. 26 Committee Report: 1903 cited in Wengen, “Indonesian Collections at the National Museum of Ethnology in Leiden,” 87. 27 Wengen, “Indonesian Collections at the National Museum of Ethnology in Leiden,” 87. 28 Ger D. van Wengen, Wat is er te doen in Volkenkunde? De bewogen geschiedenis van het Rijksmuseum Volkenkunde in Leiden (Leiden: Rijksmuseum voor Volkenkunde, 2002), 83. 29 Sapardan, “Ancient Indonesian Buddhist and Hindu stone sculptures at the Rijksmuseum Volkenkunde in Leiden: A history of collecting, representation and display”. 30 Sharon Macdonald, “Collecting Practices,” in A Companion to Museum Studies, ed. Sharon Macdonald (Blackwell, 2006), 85. 31 Louise Tythacott, “The Politics of Representation in Museums,” in Encyclopedia of Library and Information Sciences, ed. M. Bates and M. Maack (Third Edition, 1: 1, London: CRC Press, Taylor & Francis Group, 2010), 4237. 32 Scheurleer, Collecting Javanese Antiquities, 98. 33 Opening address Prof. I.B. Mantra and Statement Indonesian Delegation on the Return of Indonesian Cultural Objects 1975: 4, in The Hague: National Archive, Archive Foreign Ministry 1975–84, Inv. No. 10266 cited in Jos van Beurden, Treasures in Trusted Hands: Negotiating the Future of Colonial Cultural Objects (Leiden: Sidestone Press, 2017), 137. 34 See Beurden, chapter 8. 35 Pott, Peter H. and M. Amir Sutaarga, “Arrangement Concluded or In Progress for the Return of Objects: the Netherlands – Indonesia,” Museum 39, no. 1 (1979): 41. 36 See Beurden, chapter 8. 37 Ibid. 19

The Return of Cultural Property and National Identity in Postcolonial Indonesia

Beurden, Treasures in Trusted Hands, 146; Cynthia Scott, “Renewing the ‘Special Relationship’ and Rethinking the Return of Cultural Property: The Netherlands and Indonesia, 1949–79,” Journal of Contemporary History 52, no. 3 (2017): 663. 39 Scott, “Renewing the ‘Special Relationship’ and Rethinking the Return of Cultural Property,” 664. 40 Ibid., 663. 41 Ibid., 666. 42 Ibid., 668. 43 Reichle, Violence and Serenity, 69. 44 Kathleen Patricia, O’Brien, “Means and Wisdom in Tantric Buddhist Rulers of the East Javanese Period” (Sydney: University of Sydney, 1993). Unpublished PhD dissertation, 172. 45 Aurora Tambunan, “Foreword,” in Practical Guide for Museum Revitalisation in Indonesia, ed. Robert Knox (Jakarta: UNESCO, 2011), 2. 46 Hardiati, “From Batavian Society to Indonesian National Museum,” 11–5. 47 Cynthia Scott, “Sharing the Divisions of the Colonial Past: an Assessment of the Netherlands-Indonesia Shared Cultural Heritage Project, 2003–2006,” International Journal of Heritage Studies 20, no. 2 (2014): 181. 48 Ibid., 182. 49 Ibid., 183. 50 Appadurai argues that the degree of value “may be highly variable from situation to situation, and from commodity to commodity”. See Appadurai, Introduction: Commodities and the Politics of Value, 15. 51 Fojut, “The Philosophical, Political and Pragmatic Roots of the Convention,” 17–8. 52 Macdonald, “Collecting Practices,” 87. 53 Paul Michael Taylor, “Collecting Icons of Power and Identity: Transformations of Indonesian Material Culture in the Museum Context,” Cultural Dynamics 7, no. 1 (1995): 101–24. 54 Trigangga, Peni Mudji Sukati, and Djunaidi Ismail, “Three Centuries of Collection,” in Icons of Art, ed. Retno Sulistianingsih Sitowati and John N. Miksic (Jakarta: BAB Publishing Indonesia, 2006), 72–89. 55 Bhinneka Tunggal Ika or “Unity in Diversity” is Indonesia’s national motto which refers to a sense of unity or oneness among the people of Indonesia despite their diverse cultural, religious, and ethnic backgrounds. 56 Taylor, “Collecting Icons of Power and Identity: Transformations of Indonesian Material Culture in the Museum Context,” 117. 57 On the history of Prince Diponegoro, see Ardiyansyah, chapter 7. 58 Marieke Bloembergen, Colonial Spectacles: The Netherlands and the Dutch East Indies at the World Exhibitions, 1880–1931 (Singapore: Singapore University Press, 2006), 217–9. 59 Reichle, Violence and Serenity, 4. 60 Fontein, Soekmono, and Sedyawati, The Sculpture of Indonesia, 54. 61 Klokke divides the Indonesian classical period (the era of Buddhist and Hindu kingdoms) into: 1. the Central Javanese period (eighth–tenth century); 2. the early East Javanese period (tenth–early 13th century); 3. the later East Javanese period which includes the period of Singasari and Majapahit kingdoms (early 13th–16th century). See Marijke J. Klokke, “The so-called portrait statue in East Javanese art,” in Ancient Indonesian Sculpture, ed. Marijke J. Klokke and Pauline L. Scheurleer (Leiden: KITLV Press, 1994), 178. 38

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Anderson defines the ardhanaresvari as a masculine and feminine conjuncture which represents an image of power. See Benedict Anderson, “The Idea of Power in Javanese Culture,” in Culture and Politics in Indonesia, ed. Claire Holt (Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1972), 29. 63 Kinney, Klokke, and Kieven, Worshipping Siva and Buddha, 157. 64 Ibid., 158. 65 Cornelius Holtorf argues that the role of cultural heritage in society was to support an exclusive collective identity for each nation, by providing it with a distinctive origin and evolution to the present day (Cornelius Holtorf, “The Changing Contribution of Cultural Heritage to Society,” Museum International 63, no. 1–2 [2011]: 249–50). 66 Paul Basu and Wayne Modest, “Museums, Heritage and International Development: A Critical Conversation,” in Museums, Heritage and International Development, ed. Paul Basu and Wayne Modest (New York and London: Routledge, 2015), 7. 67 Merle Calvin Ricklefs, A History of Modern Indonesia since c. 1200, 4th ed. (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008), 134. 68 Cited in Beurden, Treasures in Trusted Hands, 139. 69 https://europalia.eu/en/home/home_82.html (accessed 30 Nov. 2017). 70 KIP-Setwapres, “Europalia Perkuat Hubungan Sosial,” Wakil Presiden Republik Indonesia, www.wapresri.go.id/festipal-europalia-untuk-perkuat-kerjasamakebudayaan-indonesia-belgia/ (accessed 30 Nov. 2017). 71 Ibid. 72 Indonesian Law No. 5 Year 2017, Article 35. 73 Fojut points out that in recent years, political will impacts what culture or heritage can do for society, whether as catalyst, instrument or generator of social or economic capital (cited in Basu and Modest, “Museums, Heritage and International Development: A Critical Conversation,” 13). 74 Introduction of the 1976 Joint Recommendations by the Dutch and Indonesian Team of Experts Concerning Cultural Cooperation in the Fields of Museums and Archives including Transfer of Objects (cited in Beurden, Treasures in Trusted Hands, 142). 75 See Jos Van Beurden, “Treasures in Trusted Hand: Negotiating the Future of Colonial Cultural Objects” (Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit, 2016). Unpublished PhD dissertation, 200. 62

References Anderson, Benedict. “The Idea of Power in Javanese Culture.” In Culture and Politics in Indonesia, edited by Claire Holt, 17–77. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1972. Appadurai, Arjun. “Introduction: Commodities and the Politics of Value.” In The Social Life of Things: Commodities in Cultural Perspective, edited by Arjun Appadurai, 3–63. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986. Barkan, Elazar. “Making Amends: A New International Morality?” In Witnesses to history: A Compendium of Documents and Writings of the Return of Cultural Objects, edited by Lyndel V. Prott, 78–94. Paris: UNESCO, 2009. Basu, Paul and Wayne Modest. “Museums, Heritage and International Development: A Critical Conversation.” In Museums, Heritage and International Development, edited by Paul Basu and Wayne Modest, 1–32. New York and London: Routledge, 2015.

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Beurden, Jos van. “Treasures in Trusted Hand: Negotiating the Future of Colonial Cultural Objects.” Amsterdam: Vrije Universititet, 2016). Unpublished PhD dissertation. ___ . Treasures in Trusted Hands: Negotiating the Future of Colonial Cultural Objects. Leiden: Sidestone Press, 2017. Bloembergen, Marieke. Colonial Spectacles: The Netherlands and the Dutch East Indies at the World Exhibitions, 1880–1931. Singapore: Singapore University Press, 2006. Bouchenaki, Mounir. “Return and Restitution of Cultural Property in the Wake of the 1970 Convention.” Museum International 241–2 (2009): 139–44. Djojonegoro, Wardiman. “The evolution of the National Museum.” In Icons of art: the collections of the National Museum Jakarta, edited by Retno Sulistianingsih Sitowati and John N. Miksic, 34–71. Jakarta: BAB Publishing Indonesia, 2006. ___ . “The History of the National Museum.” In Indonesian Art: Treasures of the National Museum, Jakarta, edited by Tara Sosrowardoyo, 12–28. Singapore: Periplus, 1998. Dujardin, Laetitia and Christine Kirkham. Ethics and Trade: Photography and the Colonial Exhibitions in Amsterdam, Antwerp and Brussels. Amsterdam: Rijksmuseum: Nieuw Amsterdam, 2007. Effert, Rudolf Antonius Hermanus Dominique. Royal Cabinets and Auxiliary Branches: Origins of the National Museum of Ethnology, 1816–1883. Leiden: CNWS Publications, 2008. Fojut, Noel. “The philosophical, political and pragmatic roots of the convention.” In Heritage and beyond, 13–22. Strasbourg: Council of Europe, 2009. Fontein, Jan, Soekmono, and Edi Sedyawati. The Sculpture of Indonesia. Washington D.C., New York: National Gallery of Art, 1990. Hardiati, Endang Sri. “From Batavian Society to Indonesian National Museum.” In Indonesia: The Discovery of the Past, edited by Endang Sri Hardiati and Pieter ter Keurs, 11–5. Amsterdam: Kit, 2006. Holtorf, Cornelius. “The Changing Contribution of Cultural Heritage to Society.” Museum International 63, no. 1–2 (2011): 249–50. Keurs, Pieter ter. “Introduction: Theory and Practice of Colonial Collecting.” In Colonial Collections Revisited, edited by Pieter ter Keurs, 1–15. Leiden: CNWS, 2007. Kinney, Ann R., Marijke J. Klokke, and Lydia Kieven. Worshipping Siva and Buddha: The Temple Art of East Java. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2003. KIP-Setwapres. “Europalia Perkuat Hubungan Sosial.” Wakil Presiden Republik Indonesia. www.wapresri.go.id/festipal-europalia-untuk-perkuat-kerjasamakebudayaan-indonesia-belgia/ (accessed 30 Nov. 2017). Klokke, Marijke J. “The So-called Portrait Statue in East Javanese Art.” In Ancient Indonesian Sculpture, edited by Marijke J. Klokke and Pauline L. Scheurleer, 178–201. Leiden: KITLV Press, 1994. Kopytoff, Igor. “The Cultural Biography of Things: Commoditization as Process.” In The Social Life of Things. Commodities in Cultural Perspective, edited by Arjun Appadurai, 64–91. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986. Macdonald, Sharon. “Collecting Practices.” In A Companion to Museum Studies, edited by Sharon Macdonald, 81–97. Blackwell, 2006. Mohr, Sonja. Displaying the Colonial: The Exhibitions of the ‘Museum Nasional Indonesia’ and the ‘Tropenmuseum’. Berlin: Regiospectra, 2014.

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O’Brien, Kathleen Patricia. “Means and Wisdom in Tantric Buddhist Rulers of the East Javanese Period.” Sydney: University of Sydney, 1993. Unpublished PhD dissertation. Pott, Peter H. and M. Amir Sutaarga. “Arrangements Concluded or In Progress for the Return of Objects: the Netherlands – Indonesia.” Museum 39, no. 1 (1979): 38–42. Prott, Lyndel V. “The Ethics and Law of Returns.” Museum International 241–2 (2009): 101–6. ___ . “The History and Development of Processes for the Recovery of Cultural Heritage.” In Witnesses to History: A Compendium of Documents and Writings of the Return of Cultural Objects, edited Lyndel V. Prott, 2–18. Paris: UNESCO, 2009. ___ . Strength and Weaknesses of the 1970 Convention: an Evaluation 40 Years after its Adoption. Paris: UNESCO, 2012. Reichle, Natasha. Violence and Serenity: Late Buddhist Sculpture from Indonesia. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2007. Ricklefs, Merle Calvin. A History of Modern Indonesia since c. 1200, 4th ed. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008. Sapardan, Wieske. “Ancient Indonesian Buddhist and Hindu stone sculptures at the Rijksmuseum Volkenkunde in Leiden: A history of collecting, representation and display.” London: SOAS University of London, 2015. Unpublished Master’s thesis. Scheurleer, Pauline Lunsingh. “Collecting Javanese Antiquities: The Appropriation of a Newly Discovered Hindu-Buddhist Civilization.” In Colonial Collections Revisited, edited by Pieter ter Keurs, 71–114. Leiden: CNWS Publications, 2007. Scott, Cynthia. “Sharing the Divisions of the Colonial Past: an Assessment of the Netherlands-Indonesia Shared Cultural Heritage Project, 2003–2006.” International Journal of Heritage Studies 20, no. 2 (2014): 181–95. ___ . “Renewing the ‘Special Relationship’ and Rethinking the Return of Cultural Property: The Netherlands and Indonesia, 1949–79.” Journal of Contemporary History 52, no. 3 (2017): 646–68. Sedyawati, Endang and Pieter ter Keurs. “Scholarship, Curiosity and Politics: Collecting in a Colonial Context.” In Indonesia: The Discovery of the Past, edited by Endang Sri Hardiati, and Pieter ter Keurs, 20–33. Amsterdam: Kit, 2006. Tambunan, Aurora. “Foreword.” In Practical Guide for Museum Revitalisation in Indonesia, edited by Robert Knox, 2. Jakarta: UNESCO, 2011. Taylor, Paul Michael. “Collecting Icons of Power and Identity: Transformations of Indonesian Material Culture in the Museum Context.” Cultural Dynamics 7, no. 1 (1995): 101–24. Trigangga, Peni Mudji Sukati and Djunaidi Ismail. “Three Centuries of Collection.” In Icons of Art: National Museum Jakarta, edited by Retno Sulistianingsih Sitowati and John N. Miksic, 72–89. Jakarta: BAB Publishing Indonesia, 2006. Tythacott, Louise. “The Politics of Representation in Museums.” In Encyclopaedia of Library and Information Sciences, edited by M. Bates and M. Maack, 4230–41 (Third Edition, 1: 1). London: CRC Press, Taylor & Frances Group, 2010. Wengen, Ger D. van. “Indonesian Collections at the National Museum of Ethnology in Leiden.” In Treasure Hunting? Collectors and Collections of Indonesian Artefacts, edited by Reimar Schefold and Han F. Vermeulen, 81–108. Leiden: CNWS, 2002. ___ . Wat is er te doen in Volkenkunde? De bewogen geschiedenis van het Rijksmuseum Volkenkunde in Leiden. Leiden: Rijksmuseum voor Volkenkunde, 2002.

Chapter 10

PLAI BAT: RECLAIMING HERITAGE, SOCIAL MEDIA, AND MODERN NATIONALISM

Phacharaphorn Phanomvan

INTRODUCTION In 2016, a series of social media posts appeared online, matching several old photographs of Prakhon Chai Hoard Bronze and Korat Plateau antiques1 with photographs of artefacts from museums outside Thailand. Substantial debates on provenance and history soon followed, and Facebook became a forum for exchanging academic ideas and fostering heritage activism. More social media content subsequently surfaced, as netizens joined in on a hunt for more sculptures and antiquities in international museums and auction catalogues. It did not take long before a Sotheby’s auction lot featuring a photograph and description of a Prakhon Chai bronze sculpture went viral.2 The public cried out for repatriation. Social groups in Buriram Province organised activities in public spaces beyond social media platforms, like mass cycling excursions to raise awareness and call for repatriation, while activists created customised T-shirts with slogans demanding the return of Thai cultural property.3 A group of Thai students in New York wore these shirts in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. This was redolent of the public mobilisation which occurred in the 1980s over a lintel piece from Phanom Rung in Chicago,4 but with a different development path. The new movement is indicative of a broader grassroots change in attitudes, and the lowered cost of mobilising the public, which comes with social media technology. Unlike previous repatriation movements, it was not triggered by journalists nor the students in Bangkok, but by local academics and communities who consider themselves to have lost their cultural property to antiquities trafficking. While the government still controls the formal repatriation process, social media has shifted the informal processes and public narrative of repatriation and thus transformed the way governments operate. It allows activists and repatriation working group members to connect with the public during information gathering and

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waiting processes. Social media, as an information dispersal and discussion platform, becomes a tool to decentralise and declassify working repatriation processes. Yet, social media also facilitates misinformation. As a quick and accessible medium to disperse mass information, it can both support and challenge the way the government operates. The traditional repatriation process depends on a government’s control over information gathering, processing, and dispersal. While social media repatriation movements will eventually need to go through governments, information gathering and dispersal are conducted via multiple sources and targets. Running social activism through social media relies on generating opportunities for opinion “conversion”, for example by publishing clickbait content, consistent content updating, and often paying for visibility boosts. Content is not always source-checked and is directed to generate interest through sensationalising rather than informing. Social media has transformed access to the repatriation discussion, and widened the scope for heritage interaction among the public. While the result of using social media to push for repatriation is still unclear, the movement captures a change in public attitudes and control over cultural property ownership. In this chapter, I discuss the role of social media activism in mobilising a movement for the repatriation of artefacts and how this reflects a transformation in attitudes towards nationalism and local identity. The Web may have created an easy platform to mobilise and sway public opinion, but using those tools to maintain the consistency of a social movement and its momentum has been a difficult task. Repatriation demands compete with other social problems for mainstream media attention and coverage. When content becomes viral, it can easily escalate to a scale where the government needs to put it on their agenda. But public support throughout the process does not hold the physical scale, momentum, or consistency as seen in the demonstrations of the 1970s and 1980s. Viral content on the Prakhon Chai Hoard attracted the attention of professional and amateur historians, as well as cultural tourists visiting museums in Europe and the United States. These individuals established themselves as social media warriors or internet watchdogs to find stolen artefacts in different Western museums and auction houses. Debates around authenticity and history spread beyond journals and classrooms, and into the public domain. Keeping a clear focus while moving forward with repatriation became more complicated with public input, as the list of artefacts to covered expanded. The Thai public was thrust into a frenzy over the injustice served to Thai artefacts abroad. Local repatriation activists considered the artefacts as “orphans” stolen from Thailand by foreigners in the guise of modern colonialism.

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Activists could publish their views and access the public directly on social media. At the same time, official media outlets used extracts from social media to develop content. They often adopted the same rhetoric. They questioned how artefacts ended up in international collections and how Thai academics have worked with these foreign institutions. While the movement sparked public awareness of local heritage outside popular Thai historical narratives, it also affected the market for the bronze sculptures in auction houses, hugely increasing their prices. Prakhon Chai small sculpture prices escalated from an estimated US$40,000– US$60,000 in 2008 to US$250,000–US$350,000 in 2015.5 The Ministry of Culture is compiling a list of stolen artefacts while growing enthusiasm from the public supports the process.6 The process is largely dependent on old archaeological field survey reports and input by academics and local communities. Museums in Thailand are diversifying their exhibitions with more non-permanent galleries and outreach programmes. Despite growing demands for cultural property consumption, Thailand’s legal framework and enforcement mechanism leave heritage protection vulnerable. The 1961 Act on Ancient Monuments, Antiques, Objects of Art and National Museums, and its revised form in 1992, restrict the sales of antiquities of Thai origin but leave the market open to the trade and transport of “non-Thai” cultural property. Human resource and technical shortages make the Office for Controlling the Import and Export of Antiquities and Objects of Art – now abolished and replaced with an online system known as the National Single Window System for Import and Export of Antiquities and Objects of Art under the Office of the National Museum, Fine Arts Department – vulnerable to the growing Asian antiquities trade. Moreover, the rural-urban divide in heritage conservation often triggers miscommunication between villagers and the Fine Arts Department, which makes site preservation difficult. The legacy of legal problems in the 1990s, which led to arbitrary land seizures, left some rural communities with a suspicious attitude towards formal authority. Some communities, such as the Kubua Ancient City7 in Ratchaburi, openly antagonise archaeologists, particularly those affiliated to the state. These communities build their local museums and engage in amateur research programmes. Hobbyists and amulet collectors create their historical narratives based on folklore and their experiences collecting artefacts. These narratives run in parallel with research by academics but have a higher impact on trade than reviewed content. The lack of communication between villagers and authorities leads to ongoing looting problems. Misconception about heritage site ownership and land ownership is a common problem. Moreover, villagers who engage in trade at the lowest value level are left vulnerable due to the lack of expertise and awareness of state purchasing

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Fig. 10.1 Bronze head from Ban Tanot discovered in 1961, Bangkok National Museum. Photograph by Phacharaphorn Phanomvan, 2017.

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schemes for discovering antiquities. The asymmetry of information between village looters, academics, dealers, and buyers, has left the system susceptible to arbitrage and monopolies by large smuggling networks. On the other hand, the emergence of local history research trends and tourism has constructed new identities for communities based at heritage sites. This surging demand by the public suggests that Thailand has joined the heritage trend seen in many countries to develop local museums.8 Many local administrations are building their own tourist attractions without the usual initiatives by the Fine Arts Department, Ministry of Culture, such as the Chansen Museum in a local temple located inside an ancient moated city perimeter in Lopburi Province. Traditionally, museums were built under the Ministry of Culture and operated by various branches of the Office of National Museums. However, many local communities and private individuals have begun to establish their own museums: “more than 1,400 museums have proliferated across the country, most of them nongovernmental, run by volunteers, and privately funded”.9 Growing interest in heritage amongst rural communities establishes a premise for preserving larger sites viewed as undesirable in

10.1

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agriculturally intensive areas, but it also bolsters the hunt for trinkets and disperses the effects of looting. Scholars identify the Prakhon Chai Hoard as a group of sculptures with a unique art style related to a bronze producing group that developed on the Korat Plateau during the seventh to ninth centuries ce. The artefacts have been linked to the ancient Si Canasa culture.10 This unique art suggests a genesis somewhere between the Dvaravati form of the Lower Chao Phraya basin (fifth to ninth centuries ce) and pre-Angkorian (or pre-tenth century ce) identity. There are multiple accounts of the first discovery of the Prakhon Chai bronze hoard, but local narratives suggest that they occurred between 1961 and 1965 in Ban Tanot, a village north of the two Plai Bat temples. The bronze hoards are said to have been found by villagers purposely buried beneath the temple complexes; local scholars speculate that their worshippers buried them to avoid destruction during an Angkorian purge of Mahayana Buddhism. Looting activities by villagers and those seeking quick income was sparked by increasing demand for artefacts from antique middlemen and dealers between 1964 and 1965. During that time, a head of one of the sculptures was rescued from a looting attempt and was sent to France for repair by the Thai government. It subsequently toured the United States, where the art form immediately became a sensation among scholars and collectors.11 Many more sculptures were found buried inside multiple temple complexes in the larger area. Their dimensions ranged between 76 centimetres and 107 centimetres high with smaller versions around 45 centimetres high.12 After their discovery, the bronze sculptures were immediately smuggled out of Thailand through the Cambodian border, making the process of counting individual sculptures difficult.13 Some of these bronze sculptures were donated to private art museums in the United States, such as the Asian Art Museum in San Francisco, the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.14 Between 1971 and 1972, Emma Bunker received photographs of a temple complex from three art dealers, including Robert Ellsworth, Ben Heller, and Adrian Maynard. The photographs were allegedly linked to the bronze sculptures; on this basis she claimed to have tracked down the provenance of the bronze sculptures.15 Many still appear in high profile auction houses like Sotheby’s and Christie’s, and these captured the attention of activist groups. To date, many potentially genuine sculptures, as well as copies, are still emerging in auction houses. It is difficult to estimate the actual amount of sculptures looted since they entered the international art market immediately after their discovery. There is an ongoing investigation by both Thai and Western scholars, but a report in 1972 by Albert Le Bonheur after the purchase of one sculpture from Spink & Son (now Spink) in London by the Guimet Museum of Asian Art in Paris

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suggests that there were approximately 300 bronze sculptures on the international market.16 It is worth noting that investigators have stated that there could be more sculptures in the hands of private collectors in Thailand, which have not been documented. Social media has revolutionised mass communication and information access in art and archaeology. Archaeologists and museum professionals see the internet and social media as a democratising force. The internet has expanded information horizons, developed new research methods, and decentralised access to information. Curators and academics have used the internet as a tool for exchanging, pooling, and organising information. On the other hand, some professionals consider the overwhelmingly unregulated nature of the internet as threatening security and confidentiality. Open access to information does not only empower professionals working in archaeology, history, and the heritage sector, but also increases visibility for local historians, amateur archaeologists, and hobbyists. Inadvertently, antiquity and trade networks have benefitted extensively from social media and internet access. SAM-NUK SAM ROI ONG: A NEW FACE FOR THAI REPATRIATION MOVEMENT “Sam-Nuk Sam-Roi Ong” (SSO), which roughly translates as “reminiscing the 300 divinities”, takes its name from Le Bonheur’s estimation of the bronze sculptures circulating in the international market. The group is made up of independent academics, archaeologists, and local activists interested in heritage in the Korat Plateau. They run their own social media page to raise public awareness about heritage sites and artefacts in Northeastern Thailand. Their leader, Thanongsak Hanwong, an independent academic, and his colleagues, conduct fieldwork in Prakhon Chai District and sites nearby. Repatriation demands rose out of frequent interactions between Thanongsak and the local communities in Prakhon Chai and nearby Nhong Hong. Looters from the 1960s have changed their attitudes towards looting and regret selling artefacts to dealers. The villagers have transformed themselves into informants for the academics and media investigators. The group began by contacting the government with information about stolen cultural property. They were initially met with scepticism. It was not until after they took their content to social media with support from large television and news networks, including Matichon, Thairath, and international outlets such as the NHK, that the movement gained enough leverage to push the government into initiating a repatriation demand process. On 9 June 2017, Prime Minister Prayuth Chan-Ocha established a formal working committee for antiquities repatriation composed of 32

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individuals. The committee includes members of the Fine Arts Department and scholars from Silapakorn University. Initially, members of the SSO were not invited but would later receive invitations and have since been working with the committee. Since the government committee’s establishment, SSO has been monitoring its progress, which has resulted in tensions between the activist group and the government. Nevertheless, the use of social media in the repatriation process has significantly increased public awareness of heritage law, history, and art crime. The SSO’s activities reflect a new direction and challenge for repatriation processes. Greater capacities to lobby for change and conduct negotiations mean the repatriation process is exposed to the public. It is now possible for movements like SSO to use social media as a tool to denounce international museums for housing stolen artefacts. While SSO’s campaigns did not win the nationalist support seen during the lintel repatriation demands in the 1970s, they did trigger multiple demonstrations in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York and the US embassy in Bangkok. University students were wellrepresented. These demonstrations never reached the scale of student demonstrations in the 1970s, and are often restricted to small groups of individuals. Nevertheless, SSO continues to grow its agenda to restitute objects from foreign museums. Part of their campaign includes actively comparing Thailand’s repatriation demands to those of Cambodia, particularly the case of Angkorian gold jewellery pieces returned by a London-based Jonathan Tucker Antonia Tozer Asian Art dealership.17 Social media platforms bring repatriation planning and documentation out to the public. Web-connected independent academics contact officials in the US Department of Homeland Security and provide information about stolen cultural property. It has also raised new ethical questions among the Thai public about art-related crime, such as money laundering and tax evasion. On the other hand, the lack of disclosure in the movement has raised doubts among academics and complicated the repatriation process. “Prakhon Chai” sculptures circulating in the market are both genuine and forged. An anonymous source informed me during research that smugglers and retired individuals within the Fine Arts Department forged and exported the sculptures along with genuine antiquities. The sensation created by the repatriation movement has antagonised museums outside Thailand. While the committee debates the provenance of each sculpture in foreign museums and the media reports on the smuggling, intermediary agents such as professional looters and dealers operating in smaller auction houses and antique shops are ignored. Public sensation creates a unique opportunity for those outside the limelight to trade genuine and copied pieces at higher valuations. At the

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same time, it bolsters the fame of academics benefitting from their privileged access to a network of collectors and dealers. These academics work on the basis of rescuing knowledge from looters and dealers. Academic expertise is indispensable for the efficient functioning of the trade,18 particularly that research which can reinforce object provenance. Brew suggests that these academic works are mainly rescue narratives:19 that this rescue knowledge is “a narrative of conquest” and provides marginal benefits towards broader philosophical and sociological concerns. Published research that takes the antiquarian approach isolates objects from their historical contexts. Rescue narratives can be traced to older antiquarian approaches to Southeast Asian history, with studies focussing on individual relics rather than the wider social-economic life of the culture. Such narratives also orphan an individual object from its contextual life, particularly the landscape and site of origin. While we still need scholarship to categorise, describe, and analyse iconography; too much academic focus on non-contextual writing posits isolation between object and provenance. It becomes (allegedly) possible to study a culture just through isolated objects without more information on their origins and context. In such a case, an object’s intellectual value becomes tied to its status as an orphan, and so does its value in the art market. There is a juxtaposition between the way narratives surrounding antiquities develop. For example, local identity provides greater attachment to objects produced from particular craft schools rather than the architecture and landscape per se. Art history and craft school categories can disconnect objects from their contextual environment, and the significance of individual site of origin. Pre-Angkorian art is an excellent example of this; many vastly varying art forms have been categorised as Pre-Angkorian. The sites where objects manifest are not perceived as harbouring unique development trajectories but are part of a pre-determined picture of the past constrained by the narrative of the development of Angkor. Thus, increasing heritage interest does not always suggest greater awareness of site-specific historical context and preservation, but rather a need to establish a localised history of objects. Building local museums is at the top of tourism agendas for district and village administrations. Consequently, many archaeological sites in rural communities are reduced to serving as a material provider for local museums and agricultural land, rather than functional built environment which the public can use as a heritage space. Recent transformations in systems of operation and demand for local antiquities have triggered a shift in attitudes amongst looters. Economic development has diversified regional activities and boosted regional tourism. Social media phenomena, like SSO, reflect a time of change in local identity, lifestyle, and economic conditions. The sculptures and

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artefacts discussed within social media belong to the Korat plateau group, most of the artefacts thought to have originated from Buriram, Nakhon Ratchasima, and Chaiyaphum. These provinces were areas that, in the past, were poorly urbanised and developed. During the last two decades, Nakhon Ratchasima and Buriram have grown into large regional economic centres. Nakhon Ratchasima ranks 11th in the national average for Gross Provincial Product (GPP), and first within the North-Eastern Region. In 2014, Gross Provincial Product per capita was approximately 97,963 THB (about US$3,140).20 Domestic consumption for local heritage tourism increased along with traffic flows towards Phimai Historical Park in Nakhon Ratchasima and Prasat Muang Tam in Buriram. Greater tourism demands create a need to diversify and expand regional tourism destinations. Many local governments and village authorities are now seeking to build local museums and promote sites to attract domestic tourists. Regional urbanisation and income growth have changed the way local communities interact with heritage sites. Part of this transition comes with increasing identity and religious attachment to local relics. Many places have developed their own local identities and spiritual attachments to antiquities found in the locality. This mixture of economic and spiritual relationships creates a unique identity for people in the Korat Plateau, which is reinforced by the media and tourism promotional campaigns. Thanongsak stated that the community in Prakhon Chai wants the sculptures back in the village. Looters who sold the sculptures to foreign dealers in the 1970s are now helping Thanongsak and his team to gather information for repatriation demands. They are working closely with the SSO team, and have given multiple interviews to the media. These individuals have transformed themselves from looters to anti-antiquities trafficking advocates. The context is very different from the 1970s urbanrural divide in attitudes towards cultural property ownership. Archaeology and history are no longer subjects catering to the literate urban dwellers and the upper class in Bangkok. The rise in movements like SSO and communities in Prakhon Chai and Nhong Hong suggests that Thailand’s demand for heritage consumption is gaining more publicity. The collaborative efforts between local communities and academics seek to reclaim economic benefits and lifestyles associated with archaeological heritage.21 Local consumers are developing lifestyles and identities based around an increase in awareness of local heritage artefacts and sites. With social media as an empowering tool for repatriation demands, more movements like SSO will no doubt develop in the future. Thanongsak, an independent archaeology scholar in Khmer and pre-Khmer sites, began his investigation in Prakhon Chai district, Buriram province, in 2011 as part of his attempt to reconstruct an oral

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Fig. 10.2 One of the many Plai Bat sculptures outside Thailand, now identified by villagers as part of the group they looted and sold. Collection of the Metropolitan Museum of the Art, Rogers Fund 1969.

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history of Si Canasa sites. Oral history is popular among local archaeologists and academics attempting to reconstruct narratives of stolen or destroyed cultural property.22 Eyewitness accounts reveal that Plai Bat 2 Temple was a large complex with five temples surrounding the central temple, which is the only one left standing. A large Buddha sculpture presides within the central temple. Many villagers recollect looting incidents with accounts describing how “Many people were looting the sites, we do not know where they came from, some were villagers but there were many outsiders.”23 There are also reports of villagers being tricked into giving away sculptures without any compensation. Many residents have personal anecdotes about the lost cultural property and their interactions with the bronze sculptures. An interview with another village elder verifies Le Bonheur’s estimation that there were altogether approximately 300 sculptures from Plai Bat 2.24 Most of these sculptures were purchased in 1964 by five to ten foreign dealers at a price between 3,000 to 5,000 THB (approximately US$144 to US$240) for smaller sculptures. Larger sculptures sold at 100,000 THB (approximately US$4,800). These values are relatively small compared with auction prices, but they were enough to finance car purchases for many villagers. The objects were purportedly smuggled out through Cambodia and subsequently found their way into the hands of private collectors in the US, the UK, Europe and Japan. Less than 10 per cent of the stolen cultural property from Plai Bat has emerged in international museums or catalogue books. The process to reclaim cultural property and construct local history by archaeologists working with villagers also brings into question the issue of cultural heritage ownership in Thailand’s museums. The National Museums in Thailand adopted a management blueprint from the antiquarian approaches of global museums like the British Museum and the Louvre. While it was common for elites to collect old relics, the idea of collecting antiquities for display and study did not evolve until the 20th century with a private gallery established inside the Grand Palace in Bangkok. On 19 September 1874, the collection was moved from a private space to an accessible space for the public within the Grand Palace known as the Concordia Pavilion or Hatai Samagom Pavilion. The pavilion became the first public museum, subsequently known as The Concordia Pavilion Museum. The museum would remain within the Grand Palace walls until 13 years later, when Bangkok’s Boworn Sathorn Mongkhol Palace opened up after the abolishment of the wangna (vice king) system, and parts of the collections were transferred to the present-day halls inside the palace. It was not until 1926, during the reign of Prajadhipok (Rama VII), when the National Museum Act was adopted, that the place was renamed the Bangkok National Museum.

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Fig. 10.3 Stone sculpture of Buddha in meditation with seven-headed naga from Buriram, Bangkok National Museum. Photograph by Phacharaphorn Phanomvan, 2017.

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Building a museum was a matter of creating a public education and entertainment space. The museum represents the Thai elite’s attempt to construct Bangkok as a cosmopolitan city with political and cultural characteristics found in Europe. The museum serves as a storage space for displaying cultural property taken from different parts of Thailand, with foreign audiences and the elite intelligentsia in mind. However, they were designed to cater to only a literate fraction of Bangkok’s population, particularly the elite collectors, as well as students and academics in Silapakorn University. Between the 1960s and 1990s, growing urbanisation outside Bangkok and royal patronage towards history, art, and culture, led to the establishment of regional museums outside Bangkok.25 Currently, there are 43 different museums established across the country. However, these government-run museums do not interact with source communities. They operate as an extended arm of the National Museums Office in Bangkok under the Fine Arts Department. SSO’s unique, bottom-up approach to repatriation brings into question growing contestation over the ownership of cultural property within Thailand. Villagers are raising questions about a particular stone Buddha in meditation under a seven-headed naga at the Bangkok

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National Museum. They discovered the stone Buddha along with 32 small Avalokiteshvara sculptures, and either stone or iron casts for making smaller sculptures, northeast of the central temple within the Plai Bat 2 temple complex. Fortunately, the prefect of Lahan Sai district intercepted smugglers and confiscated the stone Buddha with many other artefacts. The Buddha figure subsequently ended up in the Bangkok National Museum, where it is currently on display labelled as a stone sculpture from Buriram Province (see Fig. 10.3). Thanongsak was able to identify the source of the sculpture by looking for a cut mark on the neck as described by the villagers from their account regarding a failed attempt to sever the head from the body.26 An eyewitness stated that while smuggling the Buddha at night, they were hit by a mysterious light. This caused them to flee and abandon the sculpture, but some looters went back and tried to sever the head unsuccessfully. The villagers never learned the fate of the sculpture until Thanongsak and his colleague showed them photographs from the Bangkok National Museum. Archival records state that the object was a donation from Somphorn Phongsawas, the prefect of Lahan Sai District, to the 6th Regional Office of the Fine Arts Department in Phimai.27 The donation by the prefect on 11 February 1966 was on behalf of Phong Yangmee and Kane Bungthorng, residents at Ban Yai Yam Village near Plai Bat 2 temple complex. Singh, a 74-year-old villager, who gave the sculpture to the prefect in 1966 when he was arrested for smuggling, stated that he wants the sculpture repatriated from the National Museum so that it could be stored in the village temple: I want them to return it to the local temple because it is the community heritage. I want the younger generations in the village and community around here to know more than stories about how this place used to have the kingdom’s treasure. Younger generations only hear stories.28

Former looters have had a change in attitude towards local heritage and are now working with SSO to push for the repatriation of Plai Bat heritage from both international and domestic museums. Looting behaviour in Thailand has shifted away from large-scale antiquities, such as lintel pieces and significant sculptures.29 Antitrafficking efforts by the Fine Arts Department and local authorities decreased the amount of trade in local large-scale artefacts. From my field survey of these sites in 2015, I have found that there is an increasing awareness of heritage protection laws among local communities. While looting is still a problem, it is not driven by the need for subsistence income. Looters are more interested in small-scale artefacts and in producing copies of materials, like beads, which are less regulated. Increasing trade activities online suggest that looting has shifted from

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Figs. 10.4a and 10.4b

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Present state of Plai Bat 2 Temple from the southern side. Looters used explosives to get access to the main temple, only the inner chamber remains. Photographs by Thanongsak Hanwong, 2015.

large-scale artefacts and small volume to a larger volume of small-scale loot by local hobbyist and subsidiary income earners. These hobby looters are found throughout different communities, not only within the Korat Plateau but they also establish themselves as local historians and amateur archaeologists. They follow academic content online and run their own social media groups and internet forums in order to discuss weekly findings. Some of these collectors have even published their studies on beads and small artefacts. While this is potentially more damaging towards archaeological sites given how it subjects sites to broader looting for smaller materials, it has built interest in regional archaeology among the local population. Many communities, like

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Prakhon Chai, have entirely shifted their interaction with sites from looting to preservation, while others are somewhere in between. Nevertheless, the idea of destroying or dismantling archaeological structures is no longer fashionable among villagers. ANTIQUITIES AND “THAI” NATIONALISM IN THE AGE OF SOCIAL MEDIA Nationalism in Thailand is a topic much discussed by political scientists and historians.30 On the one hand, nationalism is a perennial force constructed and manipulated by powerful institutions. This view deconstructs nationalism as a modern phenomenon. On the other hand, the centralised nature of nationalism and its modern construction is challenged by the view that linguistic, ethnic, and geographic ties create a more organic common identity and pre-modern nationalism. Anthony Smith argued that primordial nationalism develops before the advent of the modern state through kinship ties, common language and culture.31 This view perceives nationalism as a force that grows in a decentralised manner and encompasses social constructs which transcend formal institutions and their authority. Smith refers to this notion of premodern nationalism as ethnies. The rise of religious and cultural nationalism in Asia has coincided with growing economic wealth, and a nostalgic determinism to reclaim a glorious Asian past. As a result, an intricate relationship develops between the individual site as sacred space and modern political and social dynamism. Sites like Phimai and Plai Bat evoke local pride and religious sanctity. While the Fine Arts Department has constantly attempted to maintain dogmatic control over historical interpretation, archaeological sites have become heavily politicised as markers of regional identity. This is because of a growing demand for spiritual identity, but also due to that identity’s functional usage in regional politics.32 Spiritual associations with mobile and fixed heritage in a sacred space create a microcosm of identity. The rise of regional exceptionalism and stronger local identity does not necessarily conflict with state nationalism. Regional exceptionalism constructs its movement off national narratives. The Fine Arts Department and the Ministry of Education dominate the interpretation of Thai history and national identity, which was constructed based on Western inspirations. Subsequently, the management of heritage and where artefacts should be placed or put on display falls under the prerogative of the government. Wider access to history and the capacity to construct regional identity has led to a clientelist relationship between the central administration and local identity. While the locals set up their own museum, they also depend on the state and state-defined Thai-ness to

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build an identity. SSO and Plai Bat communities co-opted state nationalism by building content that appeals to the middle-income Bangkok dwellers and media companies, who have been at the centre of providing the repatriation movement support. Media presentation over social network sites and the Web, including news outlets, are conveyed in the central Thai dialect and contain messages that appeal to Thai-ness and social morale to reclaim Thai artefacts. Michael Herzfeld labelled this as a strategy that “latches effortless[ly] onto the official ideology that motivates historic conservation”.33 Despite the Web’s capacity to decentralise and create regional diversity, it juxtaposes regional exceptionalism against the monocultural perception of Thai-ness, but at the same time focalises regional identity as part of modern Thai identity. The portrayal of a traditional Khmer ethnic identity of the inhabitants of the Korat Plateau slowly amalgamates into a more diversified national identity deserving equally of protection. The social media movement for heritage repatriation, like SSO, suggests that the power to define, control, and mobilise nationalism has been decentralised from central authority due to cheaper information and campaign costs. While outcomes may not be necessarily successful or actively enforced like state-led initiatives, the online social movement has made heritage repatriation initiatives a social movement accessible via computers (or other connectable devices). Individuals create their network of identity-based on their geographical origin, cultural affiliation, regional history, and spiritual attitudes towards sacred space in local communities. Looters in Prakhon Chai believe that their lives have been “cursed” by betraying local entities, and this belief is intricately related to their sense that artefacts are sacred to regional and national identity. Primary stress is placed on objects outside the country, rather than objects located in places like the Bangkok National Museum or Phimai National Museum.34 Objects are given attention based on their characteristics, whether it is the degree of association to cultures of the past or the colonial implications of objects’ positioning within international museums. From the initial repatriation movement to the present movement, the local media has continuously employed decolonising narratives regarding Thai cultural heritage ownership. Demanding repatriation is a way to rescue cultural and economic pride lost during the early economic modernisation that humiliated Asian self-determination, Thais included, since China was defeated by the British in the First Opium War in 1842. Catching up on global economic growth and reclaiming a global political presence has been at the heart of state-led modernisation policies in Asia. In assessing the stages of modern economic growth, countries are categorised into a linear scale of developed, developing, and underdeveloped. Thailand, like many late industrial nations, experienced rapid Western-style development

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up until the mid-1990s, when post-developmental theories and critiques began to replace conventional approaches.35 Decades of consequences from uneven and Eurocentric development policies gave rise to right-wing and inward-looking sentiments. Both the state and population use history as a source of power and pride amidst modernisation struggles. The Thai state treats heritage as an embodiment of a glorious past (adeet ti chareon rung-ruang). It becomes a tool against the injustice of Eurocentrism, and foreign possession of antiquities is seen mostly as negative: a consequence of local traitors (kai chat) and continuing foreign exploitation. Defending and sharing heritage content on social media becomes both a symbol of aspiration to social sophistication as well as an endeavour for international social justice. People feel empowered when they can have a hand in protecting national identity via social media, and causes such as restitution of cultural property have the necessary popular appeal to gain that online support. Social media is used as a tool of justice and access, publicly shaming those who fail to stage an ideal Thai identity to gaining academic credence through “like” counts on Facebook. History is used to display the virtues and diversity of Thai identity. Among it, Thailand and other mainland Southeast Asian countries often refer to lore of a deeper past as Suvarnabhumi, the land of gold, to evoke pride in geographic identity and heritage that represents economic and cultural wealth. Archaeological objects represent hope and nostalgia towards establishing the glorious past and a blessing for communities in the future. They serve as both historical and spiritual relics for the community. There is an ongoing conflict between the Fine Arts Department and wider communities on the usage of old religious, cultural property. Communities do not see artefacts merely as history but also objects for veneration and blessings. Practices surrounding object worship may not follow acceptable conservation practices. For looters, repatriating lost cultural property is a quest to redeem their spiritual identity and status. Returning cultural property is a way of restoring dignity and existence to a community that has constructed a modern lifestyle around deeper feelings of association with ancient relics. The repatriation movement in the 1970s symbolises the public critique of colonial and economic powers seen as exploitative. Repatriation embodies the sought-after justice to return Thailand’s glorious past, whether it be the Thai identity as Suvarnabhumi or the present Korat Plateau identification as the Si Canasa polity with great cities like Phimai, Si Thep, and Sema. The regional ethnic Khmer identity which has syncretised with larger national Thai identity joined forces with religious nationalist groups to push the political will to repatriate objects from foreign museums. Nevertheless, the SSO movement takes a different trajectory with a sense of heritage ownership dispersing to local

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communities rather than being Bangkok driven. Hence, the force democratising repatriation movements in Thailand is driven by a mixture of religious association with objects and popular nationalism. Thailand’s management of heritage is heavily centralised within a tightly knit kin-based system operating through relationships between individuals working within the heritage sector. Research is dominated by Silapakorn University and the Fine Arts Department, which is also staffed by graduates from this university. While this has enabled Thailand to build a comprehensive survey database of its archaeological sites, limited human and financial resources have led to a long-running neglect of individual sites and lack of research distribution. Since its establishment in 1955, the Faculty of Archaeology has dedicated most of its efforts toward Sukhothai (13th to 15th centuries) and Ayutthaya (14th to 18th centuries) history. During the 1970s, discoveries and foreign-led research at Ban Chiang (see Rod-ari, chapter 4) and Ban Don Tha Phet generated enthusiasm for prehistorical research. However, there was little engagement with the public even in the localities and in research findings. The disciplines of archaeology and history produced academic elites, who were disconnected from modern site inhabitants. While history and archaeology captured the imaginations of some of Bangkok’s intelligentsia, it also spawned an interest in collecting art among local elites as well as foreign collectors. Specific art and culture magazines accessible to the broader public became available in the 1970s, with Muang Boran releasing its first journal in 1974 and Silapawattanatham under the Matichon group following in 1979. This wider media coverage on art and culture propelled the public outcry for repatriating the Phanom Rung lintel at the Art Institute of Chicago.36 The events of the 1970s were driven by a one-off political trend to demand greater identity for Thai heritage. But by this decade, the widening of educational access, transforming economic conditions, and access to the Web all decentralised consumption for heritage from Bangkok to regional urban centres, and into small villages. This means that cultural heritage ownership as an idea is no longer exclusive to the centralised state, but has expanded its reaches into a more diverse public. In the past, history was an exclusive subject of study, and it was difficult for scholars to instil conservation attitudes among the modern communities who live on ancient archaeological sites. Modern communities in the Korat Plateau trace their heritage to waves of migration during the 19th and early 20th century from Cambodia. Tai-Lao Buddhist and animistic culture heavily influence oral history traditions. Most archaeological heritage sites on the Korat Plateau belong to the late prehistoric or pre-15th century ce. While communities acknowledged landscapes and archaeological sites as part of their heritage,

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there was still a sense of disassociation between living communities and archaeological materials. Also, archaeological heritage was unfavourably perceived by many villagers due to misunderstandings over land rights and heritage laws. Villagers feared that reporting archaeological sites or discoveries to authorities would lead to land confiscation by the state. As a result, communities saw archaeological sites as obstructions to their economic livelihood, and this led to the destruction of many sites between the 1960s and early 2000s. Over a hundred temple complexes were either dismantled by local inhabitants as a source for construction materials or to make way for agricultural fields.37 Temple decorations and sculptures were sold to antique dealers at low prices. The Plai Bat temples are some of the many casualties of rampant looting activities between the 1960s and 1970s. Looters blasted the temple complexes before proper archaeological records were taken; subsequently, it is currently impossible to conduct architectural and art historical analysis on temple construction. Fortunately, an inscription survived the blast and was donated to the Fine Arts Department by Poon Luei-khlang, a resident at a nearby village in Ban Yai Yam, in March 1970.38 These attitudes have been primarily transformed as communities experience more wealth and are seeking to establish their unique identities. An awakening of heritage ownership in local communities suggests that heritage significance has become more distributed. In the past, national or even regional history and heritage was only a matter of concern for the ruling elites and intelligentsia of Bangkok. History was one of the first foreign sciences introduced to Thailand as part of modernisation schemes during the early 19th century.39 European missionaries and educators transferred Victorian ideas of nationhood, along with its attitudes towards “oriental” civilisation, to local elites. History and archaeology became a tool “to propagate Siam’s international reputation as a progressive nation”.40 The Siam Society, an 18th-century European-inspired antiquarian society, was set up in 1904 by foreign educated Thais and expatriates living in Bangkok.41 Publications and activities served as an outlet for displaying cultural capital and historical roots that would have been considered refined and civilised. Thai elites, in particular members of the royal family, engaged in “expeditions” to investigate archaeological remains, and collected antiquities to display parami42 by exhibiting intellectual awareness. While the idea of amassing and displaying antiquities from the past was not foreign to local elites, a more Western approach became more common towards the end of the 19th century. After all, archaeological evidence suggests that pre-modern Southeast Asian elites collected antiquities and relics from foreign and earlier cultures. Relics from older cultures serve to enrich the sanctity of rituals and sacred spaces. Cultural property from

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Fig. 10.5 Standing Plai Bat Avalokiteshvara, Bangkok National Museum. Photograph by Phacharaphorn Phanomvan, 2017.

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neighbouring and tributary states were treated as symbols of political power and wealth. Fifteenth-century Ayutthaya temples were filled with relics and Buddhas from earlier art styles, such as Dvaravati relics and sculptures. The kris, or the Malay dagger, often contains fragments of the ancient preprocessed iron from prehistoric sources. These older materials sanctify and boost the status of newer objects and places. In the modern context, repatriating Prakhon Chai bronzes and stone sculpture would sanctify the communities as part of a religious tourism route, but also sanctify the identity of the inhabitants of the area. Prakhon Chai bronze represents a unique trajectory in local heritage ownership. Northeastern Thailand was considered a politically and economically peripheral region by the central administration. Income distribution and educational development programmes have altered the perception regional inhabitants have about themselves. There is a growing need to establish a regional history with school projects encouraging students to research and present local history and folklore. The outcomes from decentralisation and educational support have created a unique identity for Northeastern Thailand based on folk religion and culture, which is a blend between Khmer-Lao-Tai identity combined with a sacred landscape heavily littered with ancient settlements. Si Canasa is presented in popular history media and social media as an independent and highly advanced civilisation with a culture that breaks off from the Dvaravati of Central Thailand and the Khmers in Angkor. Tourists flock to Northeastern Thailand on spiritual and religious pilgrimages, while local communities develop their identities by combining folklore, Buddhist iconography, and sacred space. This image is supported by campaigns from the Tourism Authority of Thailand and the popular media. Films

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and television series about Northeastern Thailand often emphasise its status as a mystical region with historical fantasy themes. Series like Nakee in 2016 trigger large influxes of tourism to the region and bolster the revival and development of many semi-animistic and Buddhist traditions.43 Theme songs for the television series uploaded on YouTube in the northeastern dialect received over 147,369,640 views on YouTube during December 2017.44 A large veneration ceremony was organised by the local government to pay homage to the naga in both Nakhon Phanom and Udon Thani in 2018 after the series finale aired. Spiritual tourists flock to Northeastern Thailand to visit historical sites and locations affiliated to the naga, with locations such as Kam Chanod in Udon Thani drawing over 100,000 per day.45 Many other communities with the same socio-cultural structure and heritage are seeking to reclaim their cultural property and generate the same effect in their districts. These communities rely on open information and access to academic, personal social media accounts or Web forums to submit information about looting. SSO has risen to champion these communities in their quest to repatriate and construct local history. Thanongsak and his colleagues have been approached by multiple communities even from areas outside the Korat Plateau.46 SOCIAL MEDIA AND REPATRIATION MOVEMENTS IN THAILAND Over the past three decades, Thailand has evolved into an upper middleincome economy, with a significant part of its population belonging to the urban upper-middle-class. This new-found wealth has sparked rising interest in art, recreation, and heritage consumption. Thai tourists have benefitted from the effects of lower international travel costs to visit more diverse holiday destinations as well as international museums. Individuals carry with them the power to manipulate personal and extended networks via social media and internet access. Thailand ranks among the world’s top social media consumers, with Bangkok alone accounting for 27 million Facebook users. Social media platforms have transformed local political movements and mobility from rallying mass crowds to strengthening and popularising activism and alliances around social causes. Online outlets have boosted the strength of previously weak and niche social movements, like repatriation, by lowering the transaction cost of information transfer and mobility between the general population and intellectuals or activists. However, changes to the Facebook algorithm have increased the cost of social mobilisation for groups like SSO. Many group members have spent a considerable amount of money on the campaign, which seems to have been prolonged by governmental inefficiency.

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Political and social movements are traditionally expensive. Organising for a cause often takes time, risks, and usually involves non-predictable costs. Until the development of the Web, which lowered the costs associated with participation, organisers and participants had to bear the non-negligible costs in physically manifesting the movement. The development of the Web and social media platforms has substantially lowered the costs associated with participating in social movements and mobility.47 SSO emerges as a new type of activism amidst the older tradition of media companies like Matichon triggering mass social mobilisation, as they did with the lintel repatriation demands of the 1980s. In the past, news coverage would employ mobilising tactics by using keywords such as “the nation’s treasure” (sombat chat) in the hand of “foreigners” (tang chat), or “slap in the face for many Thais” (tob nah khon thai).48 Many news articles condemned the government officials and scholars working with foreign institutions harbouring antiquities from Thailand, as well as their failures to organise repatriation. Some articles even published lists of artefacts in foreign public and private ownership. Many repatriation attempts end up silent over time, though the list of artefacts keeps increasing. Repatriation talks on the Prakhon Chai Hoard have been in the news since 1990 with a first list compiled by Thailand’s patriarchal leader in art history and archaeology, Prince Subhasdis Diskul.49 Each time repatriation is brought to the table, even for registered artefacts protected by law, the issue of provenance develops into a debate that slows down and eventually engulfs the process. Part of the reason behind the delays is the accumulating list and the need for the government to show public support to build the political will to repatriate an ever-extending list of artefacts. Even for the current sensation over the Plai Bat Hoard and the Korat Plateau artefacts, the scale of public outcry for repatriation has never reached the level established in 1988 during the height of antiAmericanism and nationalism among Bangkok students and intelligentsia. Thus, Thanongsak and SSO can only rely on continuous pressure via social and mainstream media to keep repatriation afloat in the public interest. Social media empowers repatriation by distributing feelings of cultural property ownership and historical knowledge, but it is not necessarily a powerful nor efficient tool to drive real progress on repatriation. It sensationalises matters enough to initiate the work but fails to carry through without the overarching public mood to continuously support the process. SSO as a Facebook page has helped create an open-access platform to gather eyewitness accounts, which make building evidence against illegal acquisition easier. However,

Plai Bat

sensations surrounding SSO rarely escalate beyond audiences that can read Thai. International news outlets, such as the NHK, have covered the story of SSO repatriation demands, and the Bangkok Post has intermittently covered repatriation movements in English. However, it is still treated as repatriation by the state for centralised state display. Repatriation rarely gets depicted as a reflection of social and economic transformation, particularly for the source communities like those in Prakhon Chai district. The introduction of social media has democratised information control and simultaneously broadened the notion of cultural property ownership to directly include the interests of those previously unrepresented. Including the communities into repatriation helps ease the evidence gathering process, but also puts pressure on the state to share ownership of repatriated cultural property. The Web has become a leviathan unleashed upon the function of cultural property within the country as well as those involved in the international market and museum fields. CONCLUSION The counter on SSO Facebook page is still rising. Thanongsak is now part of the national repatriation committee, but he is also working with many other local communities who have heard of the SSO’s work in Prakhon Chai. Many communities are following the SSO model and adopting ways to collect anecdotes about stolen artefacts. While they wait for the government to pursue the return of cultural property situated in foreign museums, the Web has served as a tool to expand local understanding of regional and local history. The SSO case demonstrates that while the Web is useful in terms of its mobilising force, the pressurising power only extends to transparency checks on governmentled repatriations, such as disclosing provenance debates and raising concerns about repatriation process delays. At the end of the day, time and cost eventually become a large burden for activists. The “quick-toclick” aspect of social media also creates interpersonal tensions between government officials and activists, which creates bureaucratic tensions between individuals within the coalitions working for repatriation. Advancing a single agenda like previous repatriation processes, such as the Phanom Rung lintel, becomes sluggish since multiple parties fear disclosure of conflicting interests. It is worth questioning how social media will continue to play a part in future movements and how this will interact with the antiquities market. But at this stage, it is clear that Thailand has officially joined the global trend for repatriation, not just nationally, but also at a regional level.

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Notes 1

2 3

4

5

6

7

Prakhon Chai Hoard refers to a cache of Buddhist bronze images purportedly found in Prasat Plai Bat 2, Prakhon Chai District, Buriram Province, Thailand. The images are said to have been looted from the temple by villagers and organised looters in 1964. The Prakhon Chai Hoard features a unique art style found in Korat Plateau archaeological sites. While traditionally classed as Pre-Angkorian art, scholars such as Jean Boisselier, Emma C. Bunker, Nandana Chutiwong, and Patry Leidy view the sculptures as relics representing the junction between Dvaravati and ancient Khmer art. For further debates on the art history of Prakhon Chai Hoard see: Nandana Chutiwongs and Denise Patry Leidy, Buddha of the future: an early Maitreya from Thailand (New York: The Asia Society, 1994) and Emma C. Bunker, “Pre-Angkor Period Bronzes from Pra Kon Chai,” Archives of Asian Art 25 (1971): 67–76. http://www.jstor.org/ stable/20111032. Debates about the provenance of the Prakhon Chai Hoard were organised by the Fine Arts Department with a special committee assigned to investigate whether sculptures in foreign museums originated in Thailand. A consensus was arrived at to pursue repatriation from 7 August 2017. Matichon Daily, “Viral: Foreign Company Auctions Antique from Prakhon Chai Buriram” (in Thai), Matichon Online (Bangkok), 22 Feb. 2016, https:// www.matichon.co.th/education/news_46325 (accessed 3 Oct. 2017). Matichon Daily, “Supporters wore campaign T-Shirts and posted on Facebook. The public rally for repatriation funds” (in Thai), Matichon Online (Bangkok), 16 Mar. 2016, https://www.matichon.co.th/education/news_72753 (accessed 3 Oct. 2017). The Phanom Rung lintel depicting Narai (Vishnu) sleeping on Anantara Naga vanished from Phanom Rung temple complex in Nakhon Ratchasima during the early 1960s, and it resurfaced at the Art Institute of Chicago. Restoration works to turn Phanom Rung into a historical park between 1971 to 1988 triggered a Thai media investigation into the missing lintel. The Thai public rallied to demand for repatriation, a famous rock band Carabao wrote a song featuring lyrics saying, “Take back your Michael Jackson, and give us back our Phra Narai!”. The lintel returned to Thailand in December 1988 and now resides in the Phimai National Museum. Sotheby’s New York, Indian and Southeast Asian Works of Art, 19 Sept. 2008, 291; Christie’s New York, The Collection of Robert Hatfield Ellsworth Part I-Masterworks including Indian, Himalayan, and Southeast Asian Works of Art, Chinese and Japanese Artwork, 21 Mar. 2015, Lot 1067. Author’s correspondence with Office of National Museum and Thanongsak Hanwong; Matichon Daily, “Social Media backs movement for National Museum in Buriram to display Prakhon Chai Avalokiteshavara. Public pushes repatriation from the US,” Matichon Online (Bangkok), 8 Mar. 2016, https:// www.matichon.co.th/entertainment/news_63576 (accessed 13 June 2018). Kubua Ancient City in Ratchaburi is an ancient moated city associated with Dvaravati culture (fifth–tenth centuries ce). It was partially excavated between 1970 and the 1980s, and left under the care of the Fine Arts Department. Over time, the city became a known source for collecting ancient beads. From my correspondence with dealers and local villagers in Kubua in 2014, the price for genuine Kubua beads has become the highest among potash and sodium glass beads sold on the local market. Seven individual monuments at Kubua were registered and declared protected by the Director-General of the Fine Arts Department under the Act on Ancient Monuments, Antiques, Objects of Art

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8 9 10 11 12 13 14

15 16 17 18 19 20

21 22 23 24 25

and National Museums, 2 Aug. 2504 be or 1961 ce. The city area comes under the Fine Arts Department registry, which gives it a de jure protection status under the Act regardless of an official declaration by the Director-General. However, resource constraints have left the ancient city unsupervised, extensively looted, and destroyed to make way for agricultural industries and sand quarries. Magnus Fiskesjö, “Global Repatriation and ‘Universal’ Museums,” Anthropology News 51, no. 3 (2010): 10–2. Thanik Lertcharnrit, “Archaeological Heritage Management in Thailand,” American Anthropologist 119, (2017): 134–6. doi:10.1111/aman.12810. Jean Boisselier, “Notes sur l’Art du Bronze dans l’ancien Cambodge,” Artibus Asiae 29, no. 4 (1967): 275–334. Theodore Robert Bowie and Alexander B. Griswold, The sculpture of Thailand (Bangkok: Ayer Co Pub, 1976), 10a–10b. Thanongsak Hanwong, “Prakhon Chai Hoard” (in Thai). Unpublished. Dawn Rooney, “Angkor and the Khmer Civilization,” Asian Perspectives 44, no. 2 (2005): 400–3. Some of these collections are available online for viewing: “Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara, Norton Simon Museum,” Nortonsimon.org, 2018, https:// www.nortonsimon.org/art/detail/M.1980.14.S. (accessed 15 June 2018); Denver Museum, “Avalokiteshvara (Bodhisattva of Compassion) | Denver Art Museum,” Denver Art Museum, 2018, https://denverartmuseum.org/ object/1983.14. (accessed 28 June 2018). The availability of the images online has made it possible for SSO to track down their location and study them. Bunker, “Pre-Angkor Period Bronzes from Pra Kon Chai,” 67–76. Hiram Woodward, “Review of New Acquisitions of Three Bronzes from Buriram” (in Thai), by Fine Arts Department, Journal of the Siam Society 62, no. 2 (July 1974): 373. “Ancient Gold Angkorian Jewelry To Return To Cambodia From London,” VOA, 2017, https://www.voanews.com/a/ancient-gold-angkorian-jewelry-tocambodia-from-london/3831625.html. (accessed 15 June 2018). Neil Brodie, “Congenial bedfellows? The academy and the antiquities trade,” Journal of Contemporary Criminal Justice 27, no. 4 (2011): 408–37. Angela Brew, The nature of research: Inquiry in academic contexts (London: Routledge, 2002), 263–4. Nakhon Ratchasima Provincial Office, “Nakhon Ratchasima Economic Development Plan: 2018-2021,” Nakhon Ratchasima: Nakhon Ratchasima Provincial Office. http://www.oic.go.th/FILEWEB/CABINFOCENTER18/ DRAWER003/GENERAL/DATA0000/00000041.PDF. (accessed 7 Jan. 2018). Phone interview with Thanongsak Hanwong, 30 Mar. 2018. Thanongsak Hanwong, “Oral History of Prakhon Chai Bronze Hoard from Plai Bat 2 Temple Tambon Jarakaemak, Prakhon Chai District, Buriram Province” (in Thai). Unpublished. Thanongsak Hanwong, personal interview with Yen Polsomwang, 27 Nov. 2011. Albert Le Bonheur, “Un bronze d’époque préangkorienne representant Maitreya,” Arts Asiatiques 25 (1972): 129–54. Some of the regional museums established include: Nakhon Khiri National Museum (1975), Nakhon Si Thammarat National Museum (1974), Khon Kean National Museum (1972), Chiang Mai National Museum (1978), and Nan National Museum (1973).

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26

27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43

44 45

Matichon Editorial, “Tracing the Saw Marks on the Neck, ‘Phra Nak Prok’ Plai Bat Heritage” (in Thai), Matichon Online, 11 Mar. 2016, https://www. matichon.co.th/entertainment/arts-culture/news_67034. (accessed 5 Nov. 2017). Artifact registry, 10th Regional Office of the Fine Arts Department, Ministry of Culture, Thailand. Thairath Online, “Buddha at Prakhon Chai Looters want their Buddha returned” (in Thai), Thairath Online, 28 Feb. 2018, https://www.thairath.co. th/content/868602 (accessed 28 Feb. 2018). Phacharaphorn Phanomvan, “Discussing Looting from an Economic Perspective (Part 2): Micro Level” (in Thai), ThaiPublica, 29 Sept. 2017, https://thaipublica.org/2017/09/econoarchaeology4/. Nicholas Tarling, Nationalism in Southeast Asia: If the people are with us (New York: Routledge, 2004). Anthony D. Smith, The ethnic origins of nations (Oxford: Blackwell Publisher, 1986), 249–64. Coeli Barry, Rights to culture: Heritage, language and community in Thailand (Bangkok: Silkworm Books, 2013), 236–8. Michael Herzfeld, Siege of the spirits: Community and polity in Bangkok (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2016), 85–6. The Phimai National Museum is located in Nakhon Ratchasima, its collection covers objects from Phimai ancient city and surrounding areas in Nakhon Ratchasima, Buriram, Chaiyaphum, and Surin. Sally J. Matthews, “Postdevelopment Theory,” Oxford Research Encyclopedia of International Studies, 28 Aug. 2018, https://oxfordre.com/internationalstudies/ view/10.1093/acrefore/9780190846626.001.0001/acrefore9780190846626-e-39 (accessed 13 Jun. 2019). Alexandra Denes, “Mapping living heritage at the Phnom Rung Historical Park: identifying and safeguarding the local meanings of a national heritage site,” Journal of the Siam Society 100 (2012): 183–215. Fine Arts Department, “Archaeology Registry Survey Reports: 1954–2014” (Bangkok: Ministry of Culture). Unpublished. Amara Srisuchart, Map of Buriram Archaeology (Bangkok: Fine Arts Department, 1989), 108. Maurizio Peleggi, “From Buddhist icons to national antiquities: Cultural nationalism and colonial knowledge in the making of Thailand’s history of art,” Modern Asian Studies 47, no. 5 (2013): 1520–48. Ibid., 1522. Ibid., 1520–48. Parami is a Pali word suggesting the idea of Buddhist “completion” or “perfection”. Nakee is a Thai series that broadcast between 26 Sept. 2016 and 5 Dec. 2016. The 11-episode historical supernatural drama features an amalgamated plotline that includes nagas (mythical snake-like creatures) and ancient fallen cities in the Northeast of Thailand. It became a nationwide sensation with historically high ratings. Thairath, “Drama ends, but emotion continues. Looking at Nakee Social media sensation” (In Thai), Thairath Online, 8 Dec. 2016, https://www.thairath. co.th/content/804827 (accessed 3 Oct. 2017). Udon Post, “Nakee Shows Her Power: Over 100,000 tourists flock to Kam Chanod” (in Thai), Udon Post Online, 31 Jan. 2017, https://www.facebook. com/udonpost/posts/1464433556913643 (accessed 3 Oct. 2017).

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46 47

48 49

Personal correspondence with Thanongsak Hanwong on Khao Lon lintel in Sra Kaeo province. Jennifer Earl and Katrina Kimport, “Taking Action on the Cheap: Costs and Participation,” in Digitally Enabled Social Change: Activism in the Internet Age, ed. Jennifer Earl and Katrina Kimport (The MIT Press, 2011). doi: 10.7551/mitpress/9780262015103.003.0004. Post Today Editorial, “Scraping the Erosion off Society: Repatriating National Treasures” (in Thai), Post Today, 6 Mar. 2005. Matichon, “Fine Arts Department – Ministry of Foreign Affairs Repatriation Demands for 1,000-year old artefacts” (in Thai), Matichon, 6 June 1990, 22.

References “Ancient Gold Angkorian Jewelry to Return to Cambodia From London.” VOA, 2017. https://www.voanews.com/a/ancient-gold-angkorian-jewelry-tocambodia-from-london/3831625.html (accessed 15 June 2018). Barry, Coeli. Rights to culture: Heritage, language and community in Thailand. Bangkok: Silkworm Books, 2013. “Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara, Norton Simon Museum.” Nortonsimon.org, 2018. https://www.nortonsimon.org/art/detail/M.1980.14.S (accessed 15 June 2018). Boisselier, Jean. “Notes sur l’Art du Bronze dans l’ancien Cambodge.” Artibus Asiae 29, no. 4 (1967): 275–344. Bonheur, Albert Le. “Un bronze d’époque préangkorienne representant Maitreya.” Arts Asiatiques 25 (1972): 129–54. Bowie, Theodore Robert and Alexander B. Griswold. The sculpture of Thailand. New York: Ayer Co Pub, 1976. Brew, Angela. The nature of research: Inquiry in academic contexts. London: Routledge, 2002. Brodie, Neil. “Congenial bedfellows? The academy and the antiquities trade.” Journal of Contemporary Criminal Justice 27, no. 4 (2011): 408–37. Bunker, Emma C. “Pre-Angkor Period Bronzes from Pra Kon Chai.” Archives of Asian Art 25 (1971): 67–76. http://www.jstor.org/stable/20111032. Christie’s New York. The Collection of Robert Hatfield Ellsworth Part I-Masterworks including Indian Himalayan, and Southeast Asian Works of Art, Chinese and Japanese Artwork, 21 Mar. 2015. Chutiwongs, Nandana and Denise Patry Leidy. Buddha of the future: an early Maitreya from Thailand. New York: The Asia Society Galleries, 1994. Denes, Alexandra. “Mapping living heritage at the Phnom Rung Historical Park: identifying and safeguarding the local meanings of a national heritage site.” Journal of the Siam Society 100 (2012): 183–215. Denver Museum. “Avalokiteshvara (Bodhisattva of Compassion) | Denver Art Museum.” Denver Art Museum, 2018. https://denverartmuseum.org/ object/1983.14 (accessed 28 June 2018). Earl, Jennifer and Katrina Kimport. “Taking Action on the Cheap: Costs and Participation.” In Digitally Enabled Social Change: Activism in the Internet Age, edited by Jennifer Earl and Katrina Kimport. The MIT Press, 2011. doi: 10.7551/mitpress/9780262015103.003.0004. Fine Arts Department. “Archaeology Registry Survey Reports: 1954–2014.” Bangkok: Ministry of Culture. Unpublished.

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Tarling, Nicholas. Nationalism in Southeast Asia: If the people are with us. New York: Routledge, 2004. Thairath. “Drama ends, but emotion continues. Looking at Nakee Social media sensation” (in Thai). Thairath Online, 8 Dec. 2016. https://www.thairath.co.th/ content/804827 (accessed 3 Oct. 2017). Thairath Online. “Buddha at Prakhon Chai Looters want their Buddha returned” (in Thai). Thairath Online, 28 Feb. 2018. https://www.thairath.co.th/ content/868602 (accessed 28 Feb. 2018). Udon Post. “Nakee Shows Her Power: Over 100,000 tourists flock to Kam Chanod” (in Thai). Udon Post Online, 31 Jan. 2017. https://www.facebook.com/ udonpost/posts/1464433556913643 (accessed 3 Oct. 2017). Woodward, Hiram. “Review of New Acquisitions of Three Bronze from Buriram” (in Thai), by Fine Arts Department. Journal of the Siam Society 62, no. 2 (July 1974): 373.

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Chapter 11

MYANMAR, MUSEUMS, AND REPATRIATION OF CULTURAL HERITAGE

Charlotte Galloway

Myanmar has a rich cultural history extending back over 2,000 years.1 Sites of world significance, such the Pyu Ancient Cities, Bagan, Mrauk-U and the Shwedagon Pagoda, and innumerable splendid architectural edifices, are found throughout the country. All are complemented by artefacts of movable cultural heritage including sculptures of the Buddha, manuscripts, votive tablets, coins, jewellery and lacquer ware.2 Examples of these can be found in major museums worldwide, however, while the movement of Myanmar’s heritage has been covered by various laws since the colonial period, evidence of officially approved export of cultural objects is almost non-existent. Repatriation is a well-recognised process amongst the international museum community. For Myanmar, however, as the country emerges from a 50-year period of internal struggle and international isolation, engaging with repatriation in the current international framework is a new concept. It is unclear how Myanmar will approach repatriation as cultural traditions, colonial legacy, internal political struggles and problematic global relations offer an unusual set of foundational parameters. An appreciation of the history of Myanmar’s museum and cultural heritage sector viewed in parallel with socio-political events informs our understanding of these complexities. Myanmar’s cultural heritage is primarily associated with Buddhism. Buddhism in Myanmar is characterised by the practice of donation, dana, with the donor earning merit, kamma.3 Accumulating kamma is the path to attaining eventual nibbana, the final release from suffering and the goal of Buddhists. The focus on donation in support of the Three Jewels of the Buddha, the Dhamma (his teachings) and the Sangha (the monkhood) has resulted in a great wealth of cultural material tracing the history of the country since the beginning of the first millennium.4 For most of Myanmar's history there has been relatively little conflict or little prolonged conflict with outsiders and apart from natural disasters,

Myanmar, Museums, and Repatriation of Cultural Heritage

such as earthquakes and fire, its tangible cultural heritage remained relatively intact throughout the period of its own sovereignty. This rapidly changed in the 1800s, however, with the start of the First Anglo-Burmese War (1824–26). For around 1,000 years Myanmar culture had been structured around kings, courts and kingdoms. By the end of the Third Anglo-Burmese War in 1885 the Burmese found themselves with Queen Victoria as their new monarch and the court was that of imperial Britain. Then called British Burma, the country was governed by the British administration in India.5 Its history since this time has been characterised by upheaval and isolation. Colonial rule finally ceased in 1948 and independence brought promise of a prosperous Myanmar. The 1950s has been viewed as “a golden age for the Burmese middle classes”.6 The University of Yangon, founded in 1920, was considered one of the most prestigious in Asia, Yangon was a major regional port city, complete with an international airport.7 Myanmar was an active participant in the international arena and Myanmar national, U Thant, was elected DirectorGeneral of the United Nations in 1961. However, the coup of 1962 saw General Ne Win steer the country towards socialism which led to economic ruin. The end of U Thant’s term as UN Director-General in 1971 effectively severed any remaining ties with the international community. Myanmar became isolated from the outside world at the same time that most of Myanmar’s neighbours were engaging with developed nations to forge their own futures. In 1988 following student uprisings the ruling junta was replaced by the State Law and Order Council (SLORC) later becoming the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC). Since 2008 when the military government introduced a new constitution, Myanmar has been in transition, the next phase in the move towards democracy. At the 2012 by-elections Nobel Peace Laureate, Aung San Suu Kyi, was elected to Parliament. On re-election in 2015 when her party, the National League for Democracy (NLD), gained a majority, she created the role of State Councillor effectively giving her the authority to run the country. The task is herculean. After decades of neglect Myanmar is looking to modernise across all sectors. Reinvigorating Myanmar’s cultural institutions is just one part of the government’s plans and much has been achieved in recent years. The UNESCO Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property (Paris, 1970) was ratified by Myanmar in 2013 and the Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage (Paris, 2003) was ratified the following year. The National Museum Nay Pyi Taw opened in 2015 and the National Museum Yangon has undergone major refurbishment. In 2014 the first international exhibition of Myanmar art involving loans from the Myanmar government was staged at the

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Fig. 11.1 Exterior of the National Museum, Yangon. Photograph by Charlotte Galloway.

Charlotte Galloway

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. The exhibition, Lost Kingdoms: Hindu-Buddhist Sculpture of Early Southeast Asian, 5th to 8th century (14 April–27 July 2014), featured works that had never before left Myanmar.8 This exhibition was followed closely by the Asia Society in New York’s 2015 exhibition, Buddhist Art of Myanmar (10 February–10 May), the first dedicated to Myanmar’s cultural heritage that included loan objects from Myanmar.9 Myanmar was admitted as a member of ICOM in late 2016. Connecting with international museum professionals is facilitated by the government, and international aid has greatly enhanced Myanmar’s museum sector.10 The administration of Myanmar’s museums and collections is with the Department of Archaeology and National Museum (DOAM), within the Ministry of Religious Affairs and Culture.11 The DOAM also manages all UNESCOrelated activities. While some staff have travelled overseas and undertaken training in foreign museums, most employees in the DOAM have very little experience of international museum practices. This recent flurry of activity in the museum sector mirrors early moves in the post-independence period. The Ministry of Union Culture was instituted on 22 March 1952 with a brief “to centralize, co-ordinate and devote itself entirely to various works of culture in different aspects”.12 The Ministry established a National Museum, National Library, National Art Gallery, a State School of Fine Arts and a State School of Music and Drama. The Cultural Institute, comprising the National Museum, Library and Art Gallery opened on 1 June 1952. Its purpose was “to strengthen the national unity of Burma by raising the

11.1

Myanmar, Museums, and Repatriation of Cultural Heritage

cultural level of the people….  To bring history to life and to create an awareness of the cultural heritage of the past were motives which encouraged the moulding of the Institute”.13 While a dedicated building was being constructed, the Museum, Library and Art Gallery were located in the newly refurbished 1895 Jubilee Hall Building.14 The official rhetoric around the cultural institutions was one of grand plans. One specific goal was to “make the National Museum come up to international standards” and there was strong recognition of the need to undertake “careful preservation, upkeep and maintenance of these cultural heritage [sic] of mankind … according to modern methods to prevent any possible decay”.15 Plans were made to invite foreign experts to provide advice and training. The 1956 official report for the National Museum outlined its international aspirations: “Modern exhibition techniques have been adopted as far as possible…. In the preservation of the past the National Museum is concentrating on collections which will portray the evolution of culture”.16 The Protocol for the Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict (The Hague, 1954) and the Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict with Regulations for the Execution of the Convention (The Hague, 1954) were ratified in 1956. UNESCO was also supporting Myanmar’s museum development.17 Western principles of cultural heritage management were adopted. In 1957 the first Myanmar Antiquities Act was passed. The definition of antiquity was very broad, being defined as “any object of archaeological interest and includes any land on or in which any such object exists or is believed to exist”. An object of archaeological interest includes: (a) (b) (c) (d) (e) (f)

any fossil remains of man or of animal; any site, trace or ruin of an ancient den, habitation or working place, midden or sacred place; any cave or other natural shelter; any ancient structure, erection, causeway, bridge, cairn, shrine, grave, tumulus, place of interment, excavation, well, water tank, artificial pool, monolith, group of stones, earth work, gateway moat or fortification and any remains of such; any object or implement believed to have been used by early man or animal; any engraving, drawing, painting or inscription which is of ethnological or historical interest; any sculpture, carving, coin, amulet, epigraph, manuscript or any other article, object or thing of metal, stone, clay, wood, textile, leather, basket-ware or other material, which is illustrative of life in former times;

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(g) any other article, object or thing declared by the President by notification in the Gazette to be an antiquity for the purpose of this Act.18 The Act also allows the Director of Archaeology to remove any object from its original location if deemed to be at risk. It is probably this clause that enabled so many objects to be removed under the guise of safekeeping during the ensuing decades of military rule and to be traded to foreign markets, the main aim being to attain hard currency, particularly during the periods of international sanctions.19 These significant achievements in the museum and cultural sector after independence in Myanmar were initiated in a vacuum. There was no existing national museum, only small archaeological museums scattered across the country. Myanmar’s museum history is unusual for a British colony and highlights the newness of museum culture for the Burmese. The first museum in Myanmar was the Phayre Provincial Museum, named after Sir Arthur Phayre, British Chief Commissioner from 1862–67. Opened in Yangon in a colonial style building in 1867 within the grounds of the Horticultural Gardens, it housed objects from Phayre’s own personal collection. The objects came under the care of the Agrihorticultural Society.20 In 1892, F.O. Oertel, an engineer with the British Indian government, travelled to Myanmar to report on local architecture. He noted the limitation of the Phayre Museum building and remarked that “as the chief city of the only Indo-Chinese country under British rule Rangoon should have a particularly good museum”.21 By the early 1900s, the Phayre Museum was in a poor state and during the Second World War bombing destroyed what little was left. Why was there no major public museum in Yangon? The complexities of colonial rule answer this question in part. Myanmar was late to come under British control and was incorporated into British India as an annexe of India. When archaeological research in Myanmar commenced in the 1890s under the auspices of the Archaeological Survey of India, site museums were established at Bagan (1904) and Sri Ksetra (c. 1926), but these were little more than storage sheds.22 The British had established major museums throughout its regional dominions – in India, Sri Lanka, and modern-day Pakistan and Bangladesh. Myanmar’s cultural material was transferred to government agencies for storage, including the Department of Archaeology’s offices in Mandalay and Yangon and, later, the University of Yangon. Other objects were sent to India. In 1905 the Palace Museum Mandalay opened, and the Phayre collection was officially transferred to the Department of Archaeology.23 Without a single museum as a central repository for cultural heritage, it was difficult to control the export of Burmese art. As Oertel noted also in 1892, even then “many of

Myanmar, Museums, and Repatriation of Cultural Heritage

the most precious antiquities are fast being lost or removed from the country”.24 Colonial opinions of local artistic forms were not complementary and Burmese artefacts were placed low down in the Western art hierarchy compared to their Indian counterparts.25 This attitude was later highlighted in a speech by Finance Minister U Tin in 1953 who reportedly stated that, “although Burmese cultural arts had flourished under the patronage of Burmese kings, they received a serious setback when Burma lost her independence. Under bureaucratic rule … interest in Burmese cultural arts was lukewarm and progress therefore had not been very satisfactory.”26 The overthrow of King Thibaw in 1885 marked the end of the Burmese monarchy and coincided with the West’s second industrial revolution, a period of rapid technological change. Due to its relative isolation at this point, industrialisation was late to Myanmar and Yangon was not much more than a trading port. Yangon became a major mercantile centre and modernisation was rapid but Yangon never achieved the same social status as port cities like Kolkata and Mumbai, nor was the history of colonial power long enough to see a generational network of elite Westerners in Myanmar who would likely drive such projects. While development in Yangon was rapid, it was directly related to commercial interests.27 Institutions like the Irrawaddy Flotilla Company made its owners wealthy and the Rowe and Co. Emporium was known throughout the colonies as a premier department store of Southeast Asia in the early decades of the 20th century. There were many wealthy foreigners in Yangon but they were more engaged with commerce than culture. At the same time as Myanmar came under British administration, the British government was facing challenges on many fronts. There was unrest in other colonies and once absorbed into British India, Myanmar was seen primarily as a source of revenue through trade. There were few resources to invest in Myanmar, let alone provide for a major museum in Yangon. Myanmar’s Buddhist history may have adversely affected any local interest in building a museum to safeguard local cultural heritage. Underpinning Buddhist philosophy is the goal of Enlightenment, which will bring with it a release from suffering. One of the causes of suffering is attachment. This extends to all things, whether living or inanimate. It is readily seen how this foundational belief is at odds with placing nostalgic value on objects linked to the past. Buddhist cycles of rebirth encourage renewal. If we look to the Buddha’s own life stories, the jatakas, there is no continuity in familial line either. Rebirth could occur anywhere. Family heirlooms, often seen in Western culture as the link between past, present and future, do not have the same role in Myanmar culture. Yes, there are objects associated with ritual tradition, but the objects themselves are

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Fig. 11.2 The Lion Throne, in the National Museum Yangon, repatriated in 1948. Photograph by Charlotte Galloway.

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often subject to renewal. Merit is earned through donation, not maintenance. If an object is damaged, a new one will take its place.28 Another factor which colours Myanmar attitudes to objects is their association with particular events. Kammatic Buddhism melds with the local indigenous nat (spirit) worship. In this tradition spirits need to be appeased, as they can be malevolent. Unfortunate events are often associated with the actions of these many nats. Both Buddhist and nat traditions discourage an attachment to objects that are linked to misfortune. If bad luck befalls a family, others are unlikely to want to possess their property as it becomes tainted with this misfortune. This applies across all levels of society. For the Burmese monarchy this was

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evidenced in the frequent moving of palaces by successive kings, and the commissioning of new thrones. While some elements of royal regalia were handed down through generations, others were remade. Social upheaval and colonial and local attitudes to Myanmar’s tangible heritage did nothing to protect Myanmar’s cultural heritage during the colonial period. While the Indian Treasure Trove Act of 1878 applied to all areas under British Indian control, there was no evident enthusiasm for prosecuting known cases of theft. After deposing the monarchy, the removal of the “Mandalay Regalia” and other important items associated with Myanmar’s history was seen as a British right (see Clarke, chapter 5). If Myanmar’s citizens were concerned about the removal of their cultural heritage, their voices were not heard. In short, unlike the rest of British India, Myanmar’s colonial period saw no development in the museums and collections field. Significant cultural items were kept in small regional museums, sent to Indian collections or taken abroad by foreigners. It is against this background that the concept of repatriation was introduced to Myanmar. When Myanmar gained independence on 4 January 1948, an act of voluntary repatriation was authorised by the British Government. King Thibaw’s Lion Throne, taken from Mandalay Palace to the Indian Museum in Kolkata by the British in 1902, was returned in 1948 under the direction of Lord Louis Mountbatten in his role as Viceroy of India, and following Indian independence, as GovernorGeneral, and he presided over the ceremony in Yangon. This was the first official act of heritage repatriation.29 This symbolic act was a token reparation for years of colonial rule. Even though the monarchy would not be re-established, the Lion Throne was a powerful representation of Myanmar’s independent past and its return helped reinvigorate Myanmar’s cultural history, an official aim of the new government. Other acts of repatriation followed from within Myanmar and beyond. In 1956 the Treasure Chest of Queen Supayalat was returned from the UK, and an ivory chair from the Mandalay Palace was presented by Messrs J.R Ogden & Sons Ltd., Jewellers of Harrogate and London, received through the Burmese Embassy in London.30 The official report also includes illustrations of the pair of Lokapala nats that today flank the Lion Throne in the National Museum Yangon, and the glass mosaic screen from King Thibaw’s Palace in Mandalay. These are listed as gifts to the National Museum by Wing Commander Keith Marten, Queen’s Gate London. A gilded Buddha from the Palace at Ava was donated by Mrs J. Ryde, daughter of the late Captain F.M. Barwick of Folkestone, UK.31 The following year “A very old Mon bell was sent back from Calcutta, with valuable informative inscriptions”.32 It is not clear if these objects were targeted for return, or were voluntarily gifted.

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Fig. 11.3 One of a pair of Lokanat figures flanking the Lion Throne, repatriated to Myanmar in 1957. Photograph by Charlotte Galloway.

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By the 11th year after independence, the government took affirmative action in relation to repatriation. The 1959 Ministry of Culture report states that Prime Minister U Nu formally requested the return of historic Burmese weapons, then housed at Fort William, Kolkata, “which the British had taken from Burma at the end of the Third Anglo-Burmese War” and these were returned in July 1958.33 There are no details of the negotiations but the request would have gone to the Indian government which was also in the initial phase of postcolonial rule. The objects were placed on display in the National Museum. In the early years of Myanmar’s independence, there was interest within the Ministry of Culture to repatriate material that had been taken during the colonial period. Yet that focus was only directed towards Britain. As Clarke recounts in chapter 5, return of some of the “Mandalay Regalia” was negotiated and some items, which were in the Victoria and Albert Museum collection, were returned in 1964. However, many significant cultural objects were also removed by other Western nations. The best-known case concerns the frescos and tiles taken from Bagan’s temples by a German treasure hunter, Thomas Thomann, around 1899.34 Thomann had no authority to remove any

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artefacts, but by the time authorities were notified, some crates had already been sent to Germany. Thomann eventually sold his stolen works to the Hamburg Museum, and in 1923 published a book about Bagan, which includes illustrations of frescos removed from temple walls.35 Sadly, the disruption caused by military rule in 1962 would close all avenues to cultural repatriation. Moving forward to the post-2012 period the museum sector is advancing rapidly but repatriation is not a high priority. During informal discussions with people I met in Myanmar in 2018, I asked their opinions on this issue. All were well educated and had some engagement with cultural activities. In general the issue was not viewed as significant. When enquiring if they were aware of objects that had been returned some remembered a Bagan period Buddha image that was returned to the National Museum in Yangon in 2013, but none recalled the two cases of repatriation in 2017. The 2013 return of the Buddha image was covered in the local and international press and was Myanmar’s first “post-transition” repatriation case.36 The process started in 1988 when the upper twothirds of the statue was stolen from Bagan and advertised for sale at Sotheby’s in the USA in 1991. It was impounded as an illegal import – at the time sanctions were in place and any trade in Myanmar goods was illegal. The object languished, but after many years of persistent legal investigation and scholarly involvement by staff of the Burma Studies Center, Northern Illinois University in the US, it was returned and reunited with the lower third of the statue which was still in Myanmar. This sculpture is on public display at the National Museum Yangon along with a label outlining the event. In July 2017, there were two further cases of repatriation. The first involved a New Zealand family who decided to return a small group of objects taken by their ancestors, Major Donald George Angus Darroch and Ensign George Bodle, in 1852 from Shwemawdaw Pagoda, Bago.37 The provenance was well known to family members. The objects were looted during the sacking of the city by British troops in the Second Anglo-Burmese War (1852–53). The current custodians were not comfortable with the history of these objects, a situation prompted by changing attitudes towards the colonial periods and actions of the colonisers. With the assistance of the New Zealand Department of Foreign Affairs, arrangements were made to repatriate the artefacts, a move welcomed by the Department of Archaeology and Museums. For the family, it was about returning the objects to their rightful owners. In press interviews they positioned themselves as caretakers, acknowledging that, at the time, taking souvenirs from battle areas by conquering troops was not viewed as inappropriate behaviour. Returning the objects was seen as

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Fig. 11.4 Bagan-period Buddha, repatriated in 2013. Photograph by Charlotte Galloway.

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restorative justice. The same month, the Norwegian Government returned a 200-year-old Buddha image.38 The statue was seized by Customs officials in 2011. While details of the case are not known, it appears the statue was exported to Norway via Thailand. After collaboration with Thai and Burmese officials, UNESCO, and other experts it was determined the statue was illegally taken from Myanmar. The Buddha image was returned to Myanmar and handed over at a ceremony in the National Museum Nay Pyi Taw. This was a textbook case of international agencies working together utilising the legislative frameworks of international law and conventions.39 These cases highlight different circumstances that can lead to repatriation. In the first example, the Buddha statue was seized as an illegal import due to US sanctions. With poor political relations between the US and Myanmar there was no interest in pursuing repatriation at government level. It was only when political tensions eased that governmental and institutional frameworks facilitated the object’s return in support of the UNESCO 1970 Convention. With the Shwemawdaw objects, the owners were private citizens and there was no legal obligation for them to return the material, the objects having been removed from Myanmar in the absence of any cultural heritage laws. The owners’ actions were based on a moral judgment. The third example is an example of the possibilities of international law, with Norway and Myanmar being signatories to the UNESCO 1970 Convention. Once the object was identified as being stolen, appropriate actions were taken for its return. In each of these cases, the Myanmar government has been reactive, not proactive. There is no evidence at present to suggest proactive strategies are planned to initiate claims for the return of artefacts known to have left the country without proper authority. While there is some interest within the DOAM to become more engaged in repatriation, few resources are available to further this. To target objects for return, the DOAM needs knowledge of worldwide collections of Burmese material. This is difficult as staff are not familiar with international collections and online databases at many museums are often incomplete. There is little legal expertise in Myanmar to drive the formal processes regarding repatriation, and no funds earmarked to call in international experts. Apart from a lack of resources, the priorities of an already stretched Department is a major factor. World Heritage listing has consumed the DOAM’s activities over the last five years. On the positive side, preparing nomination dossiers requires the documentation of site-related cultural artefacts and existing collection material is now reasonably well documented. New excavation finds are securely stored and there is a genuine effort

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to engage local citizens in reporting found objects. This is an important step to safeguard cultural heritage. Repatriation is not just about resources, but is complicated by international laws and political interests. As noted earlier, when the US imposed sanctions on Myanmar, this stalled all collaborations regardless of international laws relating to cultural heritage repatriation. A scan of auctions across the globe, particularly in the UK and Europe, shows a steady stream of Burmese Buddha images and other Burmese antiquities coming on the market, particularly in the last five years. No known attempts have been made by the Burmese government to challenge the legal ownership of any pieces. Likewise, a tour of antique shops in neighbouring Bangkok reveals a seemingly endless supply of Burmese antiquities. That objects are still leaving the country is indicative of a widespread network of people involved in this illegal activity, and managing this corruption is yet one further challenge for the Myanmar government.40 Another factor that may unwittingly inhibit the return of cultural material to Myanmar is the passing of new Antiquities laws. On 22 July 2015, The Protection and Preservation of Antique Objects Law (The Pyidaungsu Hluttaw Law No. 43, 2015) was passed. Antique objects are defined as “objects which are used by human beings including fossils over one hundred years old in, above or under the ground or in, above or under the water”.41 This includes antique objects made by another country that are located in Myanmar. While it is positive to see this Law enacted, there are many aspects which are cause for concern. The Ministry has powers that can be interpreted as excessive. For example:

Section 6. The Ministry may carry out for the perpetuation of an antique object as follows: … (b) (c)

moving any antique object in order to renovate and keep it safely with the approval of the owner. protection and preservation of any antique object which has no owner or custodian by specifying it as state-owned property.42

The ministry’s determination is final. Given the lack of trust between government and the general population after generations of authoritarian rule, this law would be interpreted as giving the government power to take an object from a private citizen on spurious grounds with no recourse. To address the complex issue of antiquities that are in current worship, such as Buddhist objects, there is a separate clause that allows the owner to keep objects for this purpose, yet the mechanisms for determining if objects are under worship, or any

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monitoring system to see if they remain in active worship, are not clear. The Law may have unwittingly pushed antiquities underground. Clause 17 states: Whoever collects, keeps in possession, sells, or purchases an antique object with the intent to sell for commercial purposes shall, on conviction, be punished with imprisonment for a term from a minimum of two years to a maximum of five years or with a fine from a minimum of fifteen hundred thousand kyats to a maximum of three million kyats or with both. In addition the exhibit of the antique object involved in the offence shall be confiscated.43

This puts all antique dealers at risk. It discourages open sale of antiquities already in private hands, and there are innumerable objects in this category. There seems to be no reason to impose such strict regulation on objects that are going to remain in Myanmar. It is completely unrealistic for the government to be the custodians of all antiquities over a hundred years of age. The museums do not have the storage capacities and there are no resources to enforce the law. There is no reference to determining the significance of an object as a means of selecting or targeting objects that are worth preserving – age alone should not be a determining factor. The well-known collecting activities of some wealthy Myanmar nationals raises questions regarding the enforcement of this law. High profile businessman and keen collector of antiquities U Khin Shwe, Director of the Zaykabar group of companies, announced in 2016 his plans to build a private museum in Yangon. There is a Facebook page showcasing the extensive collection, news articles have been published, and all his collecting activities are apparently in accordance with the law.44 Perhaps this open and upfront approach by the owner, clearly stating intentions to make the collection accessible to the public, offers a pragmatic solution to Myanmar’s inadequate resourcing of the museum sector. In short, this law is simply confusing and will potentially result in a rise in black market trade. Concurrently there is anecdotal evidence that wealthy Burmese are purchasing ancient Burmese artefacts overseas and bringing them back to Myanmar. Under the new law, ownership should be reported and the antiquity may be removed from the owner if deemed to be of national cultural significance. Again, this is unworkable – why should a Myanmar citizen be in breach of the law for purchasing an object from a foreign country and returning it to Myanmar? The Law specifically addresses repatriation in Chapter IX. With reference to the UNESCO 1970 Convention on the Means of

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Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property, the Law states that Myanmar will: 21. (a) transfer such objects in accord with the Law to any country, department, organisation or person requested with sufficient ground of ownership: (b) confiscate and manage such objects as may be necessary if any country, department, organisation or person does not request it: (c) request the antique objects of Myanmar origin which are in foreign countries.45 Myanmar is well placed to proceed with repatriation requests. While there may have been a valid argument in the past to query Myanmar’s ability to safeguard repatriated items, the DOAM’s membership of ICOM, engagement with UNESCO, and other improvements in the transparency of museum activities offer a reasonable degree of assurance that repatriated objects will be kept in reasonable safety. Many major international museums and galleries have undertaken extensive provenance research projects and some make publicly accessible the provenance histories surrounding objects in their collections. For example, the State Hermitage Museum in Saint Petersburg recently found in its collection four Burmese sculptures, including a long thought lost image of Vishnu on Garuda from the Nat-hlaung-kyaing temple, an 11th-century monument at Bagan. It is a fascinating story – the four sculptures were sent to Berlin’s Museum für Völkerkunde around 1895 by Friedrick Noetling, a German geologist who worked with the Geological Survey of India from 1897–1903 and later was disgraced for stealing and selling fossils from his various places of employ. In the aftermath of the Second World War, the sculptures were amongst many objects that ended up in Russian collections. As relationships between Russia and Germany became more open in the 1990s, collaboration between parties allowed for a steady review of collections from both sides, and it was during this process that the sculptures were brought to light. The rediscovery of these important sculptures was first made public at the European Association of Southeast Asian Archaeologists conference in 2012. The provenance history has been well researched and there is clear evidence suggesting the sculpture was removed illegally from Myanmar during the colonial period.46 As a signatory to the UNESCO 1970 Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property, Myanmar can expect to have an open dialogue will other signatory states. Yet action is also contingent on the

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significance of repatriation to Myanmar, and this is not so clear cut. While there is a general assumption that returning cultural heritage is a desirable thing, other cultural factors are at play. As noted, informal discussion with Myanmar nationals suggests repatriation is not uniformly seen as significant and this should be investigated further. Repatriation is often associated with the revival or renewal of cultural tradition and Myanmar is actively engaging with reinvigorating cultural traditions that were disrupted during colonial rule, and further diminished during military rule. This favours repatriation. In the case of the New Zealanders, returning objects taken by their ancestors was seen as restorative justice. However, in a discussion on the moral arguments for repatriation, philosopher Karin Björnberg argues that returning the physical object may not be the most appropriate means of compensation. This case is argued from both sides – should responsibility to right the injustice be passed down through generations, and does the object offer appropriate recompense to the descendants of the original owners? In returning the objects to Myanmar, how has this enhanced Myanmar’s cultural history?47 It is unlikely the objects will be returned to the Shwemawdaw Pagoda in Bago. Therefore, how does the return in any way right past wrongs? A financial donation to the pagoda for support of local charities or commissioning of new Buddha images for donation would likely have been a more popular action. In the case of religious manuscripts and official documents, virtual repatriation may be a more beneficial exercise. For objects with significant conservation issues, digitisation and public access is an option. This approach has been taken in circumstances where digitisation has been viewed as a way to democratise access to artefacts where local facilities cannot support high level collection preservation.48 Another complicating factor for repatriation within the Buddhist context is the concept of ownership. Lawyer Naazima Kamardeen, in an article addressing Sri Lanka and cultural heritage discusses the bronze image of the goddess Tara which is a major work in the British Museum collection.49 Kamardeen outlines key legal issues relating to ownership when Western law meets the East. She notes that under Buddhist tradition in Sri Lanka, while the king “owns” all in his kingdom, he is only a custodian or guardian. Gregory Schopen, an expert on Buddhist traditions, has addressed the role of “ownership” in Buddhism. Who does own the objects that are donated to temples and monasteries? Inscription stones used as examples refer to donations to the Buddha even though the Buddha was not physically present.50 The same applies in Myanmar where many inscription stones refer to donations made in honour of the Buddha or to a temple.51 In the end, who does own the cultural material? Is there a clear legal chain of ownership between objects gifted to the Buddha, who does not exist in a legal sense, and custodians of a temple where the

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objects reside? Under Myanmar law, objects within monastic centres do not fall within the boundaries of government influence and the DOAM has no rights to remove objects within monastic compounds or in monastic museums attached to temples. Indeed, during military rule important found cultural artefacts were often placed in the care of local monasteries by local people rather than given to the former Department of Archaeology where the artefact was considered likely to disappear.52 No case law has been established in this area. One factor that may prompt the government to engage in repatriation is its role in heritage diplomacy, a strategy that is increasingly recognised as part of the diplomatic repertoire. As cultural heritage expert Tim Winter writes in relation to built heritage, “restoration of built heritage has become a powerful symbol and metaphor for reconstruction and reconciliation in recent times”.53 With repatriation of cultural heritage the gestures may come at little real cost, but can deliver significant benefits in terms of inter-country relations. This is an area which could be exploited by both foreign countries and Myanmar. Superimposed on all of this is Myanmar’s very recent involvement with museums. Visiting museums and seeing them as repositories of collections that belong to the nation is a concept that is simply not embedded within Myanmar culture. Myanmar’s museum sector is still developing and familiarity with international best-practice is in its infancy. While repatriation of cultural heritage is now enshrined in law, it is not a high priority. Proactive responses from foreign entities and individuals who are voluntarily offering to return Burmese cultural material will likely be the most common form of repatriation. The Myanmar government needs to direct resources to a number of areas if it wishes to pursue repatriation proactively. This includes searching for artefacts in foreign collections, tracking public sales, and registering stolen objects with appropriate organisations such as Interpol. Specialist legal skills are also needed to navigate the complexities of international law and ownership issues which have specific relevance to Buddhist artefacts. Determining criteria for significance will allow for a targeted approach to repatriation. As well as these practical approaches, in the Myanmar Buddhist context and considering the current ability to conserve collections, an alternative to physical repatriation might be more appropriate. In keeping with Myanmar’s history, it is complicated.

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Notes 1

Myanmar is used throughout this chapter except where quotations or publications refer to the country as Burma. While the terms are used interchangeably within the country, Myanmar is formally recognised by the United Nations as the Republic of the Union of Myanmar, and is the name used in formal written publications. Contemporary place names are used in this chapter – such as Yangon instead of Rangoon – except when quoted. 2 The Pyu Ancient Cities is Myanmar’s first UNESCO listed World Heritage site, ratified in June 2014. Bagan’s nomination for UNESCO World Heritage listing is under assessment, and the World Heritage nomination dossier for Mrauk-U is in preparation. 3 Myanmar Buddhists follow Theravada Buddhism. Myanmar Buddhist practice has an intense focus on donation, now known as kammatic Buddhism. See Melford Spiro, Buddhism and Society: A great tradition and its Burmese Vicissitudes (New York: Harper and Row Publishers, 1970), 66–139. 4 Paying respect to the Three Jewels involves building monasteries, temples and stupas to honour the Buddha, meditation, and donations to monasteries of food, clothing and accoutrements of Buddhism such as manuscripts and ritual vessels. 5 For an account of this period of Myanmar’s history see Michael Aung-Thwin and Maitrii Aung-Thwin, A History of Myanmar Since Ancient Times (London: Reaktion Books, 2012), 174–224. 6 Thant Myint-U, The River of Lost Footsteps: A personal history of Burma (New York: Faber and Faber, 2007), 281. 7 See Donald M. Seekins, State and Society in Modern Rangoon (Abingdon: Routledge, 2011), 83. 8 https://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2014/lost-kingdoms (accessed 24 June 2018). 9 https://asiasociety.org/media/museum/asia-society-museum-present-firstexhibition-west-focused-loans-collections-myanmar (accessed 24 June 2018). See also Sylvia Fraser-Lu and Donald Stadtner, eds., Buddhist Art of Myanmar (New York: Asia Society and Yale University Press, 2015). 10 Prior to 2012 access to museum collections for foreign researchers was either impossible or extremely difficult. There was almost no engagement between Myanmar’s museum sector and foreign counterparts. Since then, foreign governments have provided support to develop displays at the National Museum Nay Pyi Taw and National Museum Yangon, staff have been sent overseas for training and many capacity building workshops have been held in Myanmar addressing all areas of museum management. 11 There have been many administrative changes in the last decade. The Department of Archaeology and Museum has at times included responsibility for the National Library. The name has changed from Department of Archaeology to Department of Archaeology, Museum and Library, and is currently the Department of Archaeology and Museum. The Ministry of Culture merged with the Ministry of Religious Affairs in 2016. 12 Director of Information Union of Burma, Burma 3, no. 3 (Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery, 1953), 33. 13 Director of Information Union of Burma, Burma. The Seventh Anniversary (Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery, 1955), 108. 14 Ibid.

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Director of Information Union of Burma, Burma. The Tenth Anniversary 8, no. 2 (Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery, 1958), 37. 16 Director of Information Union of Burma, Burma. The Eighth Anniversary 6, no. 2 (Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery, 1956), 148. 17 The 1957 report states the Deputy Curator of the National Museum, Daw Nyunt Han, went on a UNESCO fellowship, and the following year UNESCO had provided a Graflex camera, an epidiascope, a Nikon camera and two museum fellowships to support the Museum and its development. Director of Information Union of Burma, Burma. The Ninth Anniversary 7, no. 2 (Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery, 1957), 83 and Director of Information Union of Burma, Burma. The Tenth Anniversary 8, no. 2 (Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery, 1958), 37. 18 Union of Myanmar, The Antiquities Act 1957. Available at http://www.unesco. org/culture/natlaws/media/pdf/birmanie/birmanie_1957_engl_orof.pdf (accessed 3 July 2018). 19 The scale of illegal exportation of cultural objects from Myanmar is almost impossible to assess and information is anecdotal. For those with an interest in the field, we note the scale of Myanmar antiquities appearing for sale in Bangkok during the 1990s–2000s. I have personal experience of obtaining a licence in 1999 to export a small bronze image of the Buddha. I presented my documents and the object to customs officials at Yangon airport, and I was allowed to take it with me. In hindsight, how the antique dealer was able to obtain short notice approvals from the Department of Archaeology is clearly open to question. Likewise, on a visit to Bagan in the mid-2000s, I fell into conversation with two foreign tourists who told me they come on “buying trips”. They put in a wish list of objects and a local agent facilitated sourcing, payment and shipping. 20 Nu Mra Zan, “Museums in Myanmar. Brief History and Actual Perspectives,” in New Horizons for Asian Museums and Museology, ed. Naoko Sonoda (Singapore: Springer, 2016), 16–36. 21 F.O. Oertel, A Tour in Burma in March and April 1892 (Bangkok: White Orchid Press, 1995), 10. 22 Both buildings exist today. At Bagan, the site museum is located adjacent to the Ananda Temple; at Sri Ksetra, the store shed is within the Kyauk Kar Thein monastery compound. 23 Report on Archaeological Work in Burma For the Year 1904–05 (Rangoon: Office of the Superintendent, Government Printing, 1905), 1. 24 Oertel, A Tour in Burma, 10. 25 For example, John Clarke notes that British officials assessed the Burmese Royal Regalia as being “art historically and aesthetically inferior quality, compared with the Indian decorative arts” (chapter 5, p. 115). 26 Director of Information Union of Burma, Burma 3, no. 3 (Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery, 1953), 33. 27 Tilman Frasch, “Tracks in the City: Technology, mobility and society in colonial Rangoon and Singapore,” Modern Asian Studies 46, no. 1 (2012): 97–118. doi:10.1017/S0026749X11000588. 28 The conflict between Western and Buddhist attitudes to conservation and preservation are well known and have been researched in depth. This is often a major management issue at UNESCO World Heritage sites. See Gamini 15

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Wijesuriya and Sujeong Lee, eds., Asian Buddhist Heritage: Conserving the Sacred (Rome: ICCROM, 2017). 29 S.R. Ashton, “Mountbatten, the Royal Family, and British influence in post-independence India and Burma,” Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History 33, no. 1 (2005): 82 footnote 41. 30 Director of Information Union of Burma, Burma. The Ninth Anniversary 7, no. 2 (Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery, 1957), 83. 31 Ibid. 32 Ibid., 37. No mention is made of negotiations between the British, Indian and Myanmar governments, or if these objects were repatriated by individuals. 33 Director of Information Union of Burma, Burma. The Eleventh Anniversary 9, no. 2 (Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery, 1959), 29. 34 Hans-Bernd Zöllner, “Germans in Burma,” Journal of Burma Studies 7 (2002): 44–6. 35 Th.H. Thomann, Pagan Ein Jahrtausend buddhistischer Templekunst (Stuttgart und Heilbronn: Verlag Walter Seifert, 1923). 36 Local press articles did appear but are no longer on the internet. International articles include: NIU Today, “NIU Burma Studies directors rescue, return 1,000-year-old Buddha statue to Myanmar,” NIU Today, 21 Apr. 2013, https://www.niutoday.info/2013/04/01/niu-burma-studies-directors-rescuereturn-1000-year-old-buddha-statue-to-myanmar/ (accessed 30 June 2018) and Mike Ives, “Myanmar Buddha Sculpture Returns Home After Wild Ride,” Christian Science Monitor, 2 Nov. 2013, https://www.csmonitor.com/ World/Asia-Pacific/2013/1102/Myanmar-Buddha-sculpture-returns-homeafter-wild-ride (accessed 24 June 2018). 37 Kurt Bayer, “Family vows to return priceless artefacts taken from Burmese temple by conquering ancestors,” New Zealand Herald, 2 July 2017, https:// www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=11884067 (accessed 12 June 2018) and Jarad Downing, “Colonial conquest’s lost treasures return to Myanmar,” Frontier Myanmar, 8 Aug. 2017, https:// frontiermyanmar.net/en/colonial-conquests-lost-treasures-return-tomyanmar (accessed 24 June 2018). The objects were returned to the National Museum Nay Pyi Taw. They are not currently on display. 38 Mizzima, “Norway Returns Buddha Statue to Protect Myanmar’s National Cultural Heritage,” Mizzima, 6 July 2017, http://www.mizzima.com/ news-domestic/norway-returns-buddha-statue-protectmyanmar%E2%80%99s-national-cultural-heritage (accessed 30 June 2018). 39 This type of case, with vigilant customs officials flagging suspicious items for further assessment, is key for interrupting the illegal antiquities trade. For a similar example, see Charlotte Galloway, “Chinese Antiquities, Authentication and Law: the role of the Asian Art Historian,” TAASA Review 25, no. 2 (June 2016): 20–1. 40 As noted in this news article illegal trade in archaeological material continues, especially in conflict border areas where monitoring is virtually impossible. Phacharaphorn Phanomvan, “Cost of Trinkets: A Growing Archaeological Looting Network Between Thailand and Myanmar,” The Irrawaddy, 12 July 2017, https://www.irrawaddy.com/opinion/guest-column/cost-trinketsgrowing-archaeological-looting-network-thailand-myanmar.html (accessed 14 July 2018). See also Phanomvan, chapter 10.

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Pyidaungsu Hluttaw, The Protection and Preservation of Antique Objects Law (The Pyidaungsu Hluttaw Law No.43, 2015), (Nay Pyi Taw: Ministry of Culture, 2015). 42 Ibid. 43 Ibid. 44 In November 2016, U Khin Shwe publicly announced his plans to build a major private museum, due to open at the end of 2018. This has not yet happened. Kyaw Hsu Mon, “Zaykabar Group’s U Khin Shwe to Open Private Museum,” The Irrawaddy, 18 Nov. 2016, https://www.irrawaddy.com/news/burma/ zaykabar-groups-u-khin-shwe-to-open-private-museum.html (accessed 2 June 2019). 45 Ibid. 46 Olga Deshpande and Pamela Gutman, “The Visnu on Garuda from the Nat Hlaung Kyaung Temple, Bagan,” in Bagan and the World: Early Myanmar and Its Global Connections, ed. Goh Geok Yian, John Miksic, and Michael AungThwin (Singapore: ISEAS Publishing, 2017), 66–87. 47 See Karin Bjornberg, “Historic Injustices and the Moral Case for Cultural Repatriation,” Ethical Theory and Moral Practice 18, no. 3 (June 2015): 461–2, and Moira Simpson, “Museums and restorative justice: heritage, repatriation and cultural education,” Museum International 61, no. 1–2 (2009): 122. 48 Sabine Schmidtke, “The Zaydi Manuscript Tradition: Virtual Repatriation of Cultural Heritage,” International Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 50 (2018): 127. 49 Naazima Kamardeen, “The Protection of Cultural Property: Post-Colonial and Post-Conflict Perspectives from Sri Lanka,” International Journal of Cultural Property 24, no. 4 (2017): 430. Her article notes that in 1975 the then Director of the National Museum of Colombo prepared a publication of objects that had been removed from the country – it numbered over 15,000 items, most being taken during colonial rule when, like Myanmar, Sri Lanka’s cultural heritage was under British control. Tara is on the list and was simply removed from Sri Lanka by Governor Sir Robert Brownrigg in 1830. See also The British Museum, “Collection Online: figure,” http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/ collection_online/collection_object_details.aspx?objectId=251954&partId=1 (accessed 3 July 2018). 50 Gregory Schopen, “The Buddha as an owner of property and permanent resident in Medieval Indian monasteries,” Journal of Indian Philosophy 18, no. 3 (1990): 181–217. 51 The inscriptions usually state that donations are being made to a temple or monastery. Is there a legal entity that then owns the donation? It is unclear. 52 There are many Pagoda museums in Myanmar and in some cases local heritage groups are taking care of these collections. A well-known example is the Shwe Phone Pwint Library and Museum in Pyay. A number of the custodians are also founders of the Sri Ksetra Heritage Trust, which raises awareness of Sri Ksetra’s heritage significance. 53 Tim Winter, “Heritage Diplomacy. Entangled Materialities of International Relations,” Future Anterior: Journal of Historic Preservation History Theory & Criticism 13, no. 1 (2016): 22. This article includes discussion of Bagan’s temple restoration as an example of international heritage diplomacy in the context of China and India’s competitive interests in Myanmar. 41

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References Ashton, S.R. “Mountbatten, the Royal Family, and British influence in postindependence India and Burma.” Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History 33, no. 1 (2005): 73–92. doi: 10.1080/0308653042000329021. Asia Society. “Asia Society Museum to Present First Exhibition in the West Focussed on Loans from Collections in Myanmar,” Feb. 2015, https://asiasociety.org/ media/museum/asia-society-museum-present-first-exhibition-west-focusedloans-collections-myanmar (accessed 24 June 2018). Aung-Thwin, Michael and Maitrii Aung-Thwin. A History of Myanmar Since Ancient Times. London: Reaktion Books, 2012. Bayer, Kurt. “Family vows to return priceless artefacts taken from Burmese temple by conquering ancestors.” New Zealand Herald, 2 July 2017, https://www. nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=11884067 (accessed 12 June 2018). Björnberg, Karin. “Historic Injustices and the Moral Case for Cultural Repatriation.” Ethical Theory and Moral Practice 18, no. 3 (2015): 461–74. Deshpande, Olga, and Pamela Gutman. “The Visnu on Garuda from the Nat Hlaung Kyaung Temple, Bagan.” In Bagan and the World: Early Myanmar and Its Global Connections, edited by Goh Geok Yian, John Miksic, and Michael Aung-Thwin, 66–87. Singapore: ISEAS Publishing, 2017. Director of Information Union of Burma. Burma. 3, no. 3. Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery, 1953. Director of Information Union of Burma. Burma. The Seventh Anniversary. Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery, 1955. ___ . Burma. The Eighth Anniversary 6, no. 2. Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery, 1956. ___ . Burma. The Ninth Anniversary 7, no. 2. Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery, 1957. ___ . Burma. The Tenth Anniversary 8, no. 2. Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery, 1958. ___ . Burma. The Eleventh Anniversary 9, no. 2. Rangoon: Superintendent of Government Printing and Stationery, 1959. Downing, Jarad. “Colonial conquest’s lost treasures return to Myanmar.” Frontier Myanmar, 8 Aug. 2017. https://frontiermyanmar.net/en/colonial-conquestslost-treasures-return-to-myanmar (accessed 24 June 2018). Frasch, Tilman. “Tracks in the City: Technology, mobility and society in colonial Rangoon and Singapore.” Modern Asian Studies 46, no. 1 (2012): 97–118. doi:10.1017/S0026749X11000588. Fraser-Lu, Sylvia and Donald Stadtner. Buddhist Art of Myanmar. New York: Asia Society and Yale University Press, 2015. Galloway, Charlotte. “Chinese Antiquities, Authentication and Law: the role of the Asian Art Historian.” TAASA Review 25, no. 2 (June 2016): 20–1. Ives, Mike. “Myanmar Buddha Sculpture Returns Home After Wild Ride.” Christian Science Monitor, 2 Nov. 2013. https://www.csmonitor.com/World/AsiaPacific/2013/1102/Myanmar-Buddha-sculpture-returns-home-after-wild-ride (accessed 24 June 2018). Kamardeen, Naazima. “The Protection of Cultural Property: Post-Colonial and Post-Conflict Perspectives from Sri Lanka.” International Journal of Cultural Property 24, no. 4 (2017): 429–50. Kyaw Hsu Mon. “Zaykabar Group’s U Khin Shwe to Open Private Museum.” The Irrawaddy, 18 Nov. 2016. https://www.irrawaddy.com/news/burma/

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zaykabar-groups-u-khin-shwe-to-open-private-museum.html (accessed 2 June 2019). Mizzima. “Norway Returns Buddha Statue to Protect Myanmar’s National Cultural Heritage.” Mizzima, 6 July 2017. http://www.mizzima.com/news-domestic/ norway-returns-buddha-statue-protect-myanmar%E2%80%99s-nationalcultural-heritage (accessed 30 June 2018). NIU Today. “NIU Burma Studies directors rescue, return 1,000-year-old Buddha statue to Myanmar.” NIU Today, 21 Apr. 2013. https://www.niutoday. info/2013/04/01/niu-burma-studies-directors-rescue-return-1000-year-oldbuddha-statue-to-myanmar/ (accessed 30 June 2018). Nu Mra Zan. “Museums in Myanmar: Brief History and Actual Perspectives.” In New Horizons for Asian Museums and Museology, edited by Naoko Sonoda, 16–36. Singapore: Springer, 2016. Oertel, F.O. A Tour in Burma in March and April 1892. Bangkok: White Orchid Press, 1995. Phanomvan, Phacharaphorn. “Cost of Trinkets: A Growing Archaeological Looting Network Between Thailand and Myanmar.” The Irrawaddy, 12 July 2017. https://www.irrawaddy.com/opinion/guest-column/cost-trinkets-growingarchaeological-looting-network-thailand-myanmar.html (accessed 14 July 2018). Pyidaungsu Hluttaw. The Protection and Preservation of Antique Objects Law (The Pyidaungsu Hluttaw Law No. 43, 2015). Nay Pyi Taw: Ministry of Culture, 2015. Report on Archaeological Work in Burma For the Year 1904-05. Rangoon: Office of the Superintendent, Government Printing, 1905. Schmidtke, Sabine. “The Zaydi Manuscript Tradition: Virtual Repatriation of Cultural Heritage.” International Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 50 (2018): 124–8. Schopen, Gregory. “The Buddha as an Owner of Property and permanent Resident in Medieval Indian monasteries.” Journal of Indian Philosophy 18, no. 3 (1990): 181–217. Seekins, Donald M. State and Society in Modern Rangoon. Abingdon: Routledge, 2011. Simpson, Moira. “Museums and restorative justice: Heritage, repatriation and cultural education.” Museum International, 61, no. 1–2 (2009): 121–9. Spiro, Melford. Buddhism and Society: A great tradition and its Burmese Vicissitudes. New York: Harper and Row Publishers, 1970. Thant Myint-U. The River of Lost Footsteps: A personal history of Burma. New York: Faber and Faber, 2007. The British Museum. “Collection Online: figure.” http://www.britishmuseum.org/ research/collection_online/collection_object_details. aspx?objectId=251954&partId=1 (accessed 3 July 2018). The Met. “Exhibition Overview.” nd. https://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/ listings/2014/lost-kingdoms (accessed 24 June 2018). Thomann, Th.H. Pagan Ein Jahrtausend buddhistischer Templekunst. Stuttgart und Heilbronn: Verlag Walter Seifert, 1923. Union of Myanmar. “The Antiquities Act 1957.” http://www.unesco.org/culture/ natlaws/media/pdf/birmanie/birmanie_1957_engl_orof.pdf (accessed 3 July 2018). Wijesuriya, Gamini, and Sujeong Lee, eds. Asian Buddhist Heritage: Conserving the Sacred. Rome: ICCROM, 2017.

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Winter, Tim. “Heritage Diplomacy. Entangled Materialities of International Relations.” Future Anterior: Journal of Historic Preservation History Theory & Criticism 13, no. 1 (2016): 17–34. Zöllner, Hans-Bernd. “Germans in Burma.” Journal of Burma Studies 7 (2002): 29–69.

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LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS Gabrielle Abbe is a specialist in the history of Cambodia during the colonial period, with a specific interest in heritage management issues and the work of George Groslier. She received her PhD in history of international relations from the University of Paris 1 Panthéon-Sorbonne in 2018. She is currently working as an assistant editor at the EFEO (French School of Asian Studies) and teaches Southeast Asian art history at the École du Louvre. She has published several articles about the work of George Groslier, the national museum of Cambodia and archaeology in the field of international relations. Panggah Ardiyansyah is an educator at Borobudur Conservation Office, Ministry of Education and Culture of the Republic of Indonesia. His main interest lies in the historiography of Javanese materials, by which he looks into the “afterlives” of those objects when they were taken from sites, distributed, collected, displayed, and subsequently projected as competing sites of identities. His current work involves curation of travelling exhibitions on Borobudur across Indonesia and he is currently installed as the member of editorial board for Borobudur, a biannual journal on the conservation of cultural heritage in Indonesia. Jos van Beurden is an affiliated researcher of the Vrije Universiteit, Amsterdam, who specialises in the protection of material cultural heritage and the return of colonial treasures. Among his books are Treasures in Trusted Hands – Negotiating the Future of Colonial Cultural Objects (Leiden, 2017; the book was nominated for the NWO Boekman Dissertation Award 2018) and The Return of Cultural and Historical Treasures – The Case of the Netherlands (Amsterdam, 2012). In 2018 he published “Decolonisation of Colonial Collections: An unresolved Conflict” (BMGN - Low Countries Historical Review Vol. 133/2: 66–78) and a Dutch-language report about the deaccessioning of the collection of Museum Nusantara in Delft (Research Center for Material Cultural Heritage, Leiden). Socheat Chea is a conservator at the National Museum Phnom Penh (NMPP) in Cambodia. He gained an undergraduate degree from the Royal University of Fine Arts (RUFA) in Cambodia in 2004, focussing on the study of the art and conservation of Koh Ker sculptures. He was appointed as a member of staff at NMPP in 2005, and completed his postgraduate degree at the Institute National of Education in Phnom Penh in 2008. He is one of the few national scholars to have conducted research on Khmer art, and is today a leading specialist at the NMPP on Cambodian art and conservation. John Clarke was curator of Himalayan and Southeast Asian Art at the Victoria & Albert Museum (V&A) in London. He specialised in the art and culture of the Himalayas and of Southeast Asia. He published widely on the arts of both regions authoring many articles and chapters in books. He was also the author of Tibet: Caught in Time (Garnet, 1997) and Himalayan Jewellery (V&A, 2004). He organised a symposium on Buddhist Sculpture at the V&A in 2010

List of Contributors

and was the lead curator for the Robert Robert H.N. Ho Family Foundation Galleries of Buddhist Art which opened at the V&A in June 2017. Charlotte Galloway is a senior lecturer in Art History and Curatorial Studies at the Australian National University. Specialising in the Buddhist art of Myanmar, she is involved in projects relating to Myanmar’s heritage and museums and capacity building in these sectors. In 2017, she was a UNESCO Expert assisting with the World Heritage nomination for Bagan, and has ongoing art historical research projects involving the Pyu Ancient Cities, Myanmar’s first world heritage listed site, and Bagan. Dr Galloway is a visiting lecturer at the Department of Archaeology, University of Yangon, in museology and research methods. Chanraksmey Muong is an advanced specialist member of staff at the National Museum of Cambodia. He has worked as an archaeologist at the APSARA Authority of Angkor International Research and Documentation in Cambodia. He graduated from the Royal University of Fine Art, Faculty of Archaeology in 2013, and participated with the Greater Angkor Project (GAP) of Robert Christy of Research Centre of Sydney, University of Australia and Honolulu University of Hawaii. In 2016, he received a scholarship from the Alphawood programme to study a postgraduate Diploma at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), University of London, and completed an MA in History of Art and Archaeology at SOAS in 2018. Duyên H.H. Nguyễn is a PhD candidate in the Department of History of Art and Archaeology at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), University of London. She studied Museology (New York University, 2012) and Art History and Archaeology of South and Southeast Asia (SOAS, 2015). Her research focuses on Champa sculpture and the curation of Cham art in Vietnam. She contributed essays to a catalogue, Vibrancy in Stone: Masterpieces of the Đà Nẵng Museum of Cham Sculpture, which was published in 2018. Phacharaphorn Phanomvan is an economic historian and archaeologist at the University of Oxford. She holds a first degree in economics, masters in Southeast Asian Studies from Chulalongkorn University and Global Economic History from the London School of Economics and Political Science. She is the advisor to Chao Sam Phaya National Museum, Thailand, and works on constructing macro data for first millennium heritage sites in mainland Southeast Asia. She is interested in the role of heritage in economic development. Melody Rod-ari is assistant professor of Art History at Loyola Marymount University in Los Angeles, California where she teaches courses related to the history of Asian Art and Museum Studies. In addition to teaching, she has curated permanent installations and exhibitions for the Norton Simon Museum and the University of Southern California, Pacific Asia Museum. Her research and publications are focused on the Buddhist art of the Rattanakosin period in Thailand as well as the history of collecting and display of South and Southeast Asian art in American and European museums.

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Wieske Octaviani Sapardan is an MA graduate from the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), University of London, majoring in the History of Art and Archaeology. She worked for UNESCO at the Jakarta cluster office for almost 10 years and was in charge of culture programmes. Wieske has curated a number of exhibitions including, the present display at the Karmawibhangga Gallery of the Borobudur Museum which reopened in June 2018. Louise Tythacott is the Woon Tai Jee Professor of Asian Art at Northumbria University and was previously Pratapaditya Pal Professor in Curating and Museology of Asian Art at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), University of London. Her books include, Surrealism and the Exotic (Routledge, 2003), The Lives of Chinese Objects: Buddhism, Imperialism and Display (Berghahn, 2011), Museums and Restitution: New Practices, New Approaches (edited with Arvanitis, Routledge, 2014) and Collecting and Displaying China’s “Summer Palace” in the West: The Yuanmingyuan in Britain and France (ed., Routledge, 2018).

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INDEX Illustration page numbers are in italics. Adie Pattij Tjakra Diningrat, Java ruler, 4 Adoration and Glory (Bunker and Latchford), 69, 70, 72, 73, 76, 77 adze, Ban Chiang, 87, 88 Angel, Philips, 174 Angkor, see Cambodia Anglo-Burmese Wars, 5, 23, 112–13, 265, 272, 273 Antiquities Act, Burma (Myanmar), 267–8, 276–7 APSARA Authority, Cambodia, looting of Koh Ker, 63, 68, 72 The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro, see Indonesia, Raden Saleh paintings, The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro Art Award Certificate (Piagam Anugerah Seni), Raden Saleh, 171 artistic value consideration, Mandalay regalia, 119–20, 121, 122 see also value auction houses, see Christie’s; Sotheby’s; Spink & Son Austria, World Museum, Vienna, Indonesian kris, 199 authorisation to sell, see Cambodia, selling of Khmer artefacts during colonial era, authorisation to sell Avalokiteshvara sculptures, Plai Bat, Prakhon Chai Hoard, 247, 254 Bagan, 268 Buddha, 273, 274, 275 Nat-hlaung-kyaing temple sculptures, 278 temple frescoes and tiles, 272–3 Balarama statue, Prasat Chen temple, 73 Bali and Sugrib statues, Prasat Chen temple, 66 Ban Chiang ownership, see Thailand (Siam), Ban Chiang ownership Ban Don Tha Phet, 252 Ban Tanot bronze head, 238, 239 Banteay Chhmar wall, 14, 14 Banteay Srei statues, 6, 64 Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences, 9, 18, 20–1, 188, 199 Prajnaparamita statue, 190, 215, 219, 220, 223 Battambang, 41, 43 Battambang Museums, 13, 17 Baud, Jean Chrétien, 9, 166, 174, 223 Belgium, Palais des Beaux Arts, Ancestors and Rituals exhibition, 226, 228, 228

Bhima statue Prasat Chen temple, 11, 64, 72, 73, 75 Prasat Kraham temple, 66 Bhumibol Adulyadej, King, 88, 92 Bintang Mahaputra Adipradana (Star for a Great Son) award, Raden Saleh, 172 bird-women, Prasat Chen temple, 68, 69, 77 Birdwood, George, 115, 116, 123 “blood antiquities”, Koh Ker, 20, 62 Bodawpaya, King, 13 Bodhisattva Tara/Laksmindra-Lokesvara statue, Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, 141, 142 Borobudur, 8, 11, 21 Boschbrand (“Forest Fire”) (Raden Saleh), 171, 178–9 Bourdonneau, Éric, 64–5, 66, 72, 73 Bowring, John, 10 Brahma head, Prasat Bantheay Pi Choan, 70–1, 77 Britain Brighton Museum & Art Gallery, Kachin textiles, 5 British Museum, Buddha statue and footprint (Marryat), 5 British Museum, Le May donations, 10–11 British Museum, Raffles’ donations, 9 Commonwealth Relations Office, 120–1, 122, 127 Essex Regiment museum, Burmese Buddha, 5 Foreign Office confidential briefing notes, Mandalay regalia, 126–8 frozen financial assets, and Mandalay regalia restitution, 119, 121, 127 Horniman Museum, Le May donations, 10–11 India Office Library, 120, 121, 127 Museum of Liverpool, Buddha statues, 5 Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford, Kachin textiles, 5 South Kensington (V&A), see Burma (Myanmar), Mandalay regalia, display at South Kensington (V&A) Britain-Burma Society, 117, 119, 123–4 Bronze Age evidence, Ban Chiang, 90, 101 Brown, Roxanna, 95–6 Brundage, Avery, 11, 18 Buddha Bagan, 273, 274, 275 Borobudur, 8 Gandhara, 6 Luang Poh Sila Buddha, Thung Sangiam temple, 19

292



Mahamuni Buddha, Arakan, 13 Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, 150–3, 151–2, 154 and seven-headed naga sculpture, Plai Bat, 246–7, 246 Buddhism, Vajrayana (Mahayana) Buddhism evidence, Đà Nẵng, 141, 145, 147 A Buffalo Hunt in Java (Raden Saleh), 171 Buginese kris return by the Netherlands, 187, 192–3, 193, 203 Bunker, Emma, Adoration and Glory, 69, 70, 72, 73, 76, 77 Burma (Myanmar) Anglo-Burmese Wars, 5, 23, 112–13, 265, 272, 273 Dawei beads, 16 Kachin textiles, 5 Khmer bronze statues to Mandalay from Cambodia, 12–13 Mahamuni Buddha, 13 Mandalay Palace, 124, 132 subsistence looting, 15 Tanintharyi beads, 16 upper-class tourism, 5 Burma (Myanmar), Mandalay regalia, 5, 18, 111–38 Government of India involvement, 114–16 Konbaung dynasty, 111–12, 123, 133 Lion Throne from the Hluttaw or High Court, 112 looting of jewellery by women of the palace, 114 Mandalay Palace, 112, 114 military Prize Committee involvement and regalia as war booty, 114, 115, 122 nine thrones, Mandalay Palace, 112 royal male headdress, 111, 113 and Saya San popular uprising (1930/31), 133–4 state occasions and displays, 111–12 Third Anglo-Burmese War and surrender of King Thibaw, 112–13 vessels, 111, 112 Burma (Myanmar), Mandalay regalia, display at South Kensington (V&A), 112–17, 112 Burmese Historical Commission visit, 117, 128–9 Burmese Section of the Indian Galleries display, 116 custodianship recommendation, 116, 119, 120, 121–2, 123, 124, 126, 127, 132–3 harp, bequeathed to V&A, 129–30, 129 hintha (sacred goose) retained as gift, 123, 125, 131 in-house conservation work, 124–5 Indian Court of the Colonial and Indian Exhibition, 115 informal request for return (1956), 116 other pieces of Burmese artefacts in V&A, concerns over, 128–32 removal as British right, 271 Second World War safe storage, 116, 123, 124, 125 Southeast Asian Gallery, 117

Index

valuation, 115 Burma (Myanmar), Mandalay regalia, restitution, events leading to, 117–32 artistic value consideration, 119–20, 121, 122 Britain-Burma Society, 117, 119, 123–4 Commonwealth Relations Office legal authority, 118 Commonwealth Relations Office objections, 120–1, 122 Commonwealth Relations Office objections and India Office Library, 120, 121, 127 “crown of Hailee Selassi” comparison, 117, 119 dagger and sheath (than lyet) symbolic handover, 123–4 Dalhousie sword confusion, 130, 131 Elgin Marbles, claims concerns, 117, 122 Foreign Office agreement that collection should be returned, 120 Foreign Office confidential briefing notes, 126–8 formal written request by Burmese Ambassador, 118–19, 120–1 and frozen British financial assets, consideration of, 119, 121, 127 harp, bequeathed to V&A, 129–30, 129 hintha (sacred goose) retained as gift, 123, 125, 131 historical and sentimental value consideration, 119–20, 121–2 in-house conservation work, 124–5 Independence Day celebrations (1965), 124 India Office involvement, 115, 118 legal considerations and Burma annexation, 118 one-woman campaign for the return of the regalia (Miss Quigly), 118 other pieces of Burmese artefacts in V&A, concerns over, 128–32 Queen’s headdress, V&A collection, 129–30, 130 relics of Buddha’s chief disciples returned to India, comparison with, 133 statement of intent to return, 123 undesirable precedent concerns, 117–18, 119, 120, 121, 122–3, 126, 127–8 value estimate, 125 Burma (Myanmar), museums and repatriation, 264–87 Antiquities Act, 267–8, 276–7 Antiquities laws, new, 276–8 Bagan Buddha, 273, 274, 275 Bagan’s temples, frescoes and tiles, 272–3 British colonialism effects, 265, 268–9, 271, 272, 273, 278, 279 Buddhism, 264, 269–70 Burmese weapons from Fort William, Kolkata, 272 collecting activities of wealthy Myanmar citizens, 277 heritage diplomacy, 280 illegal activities, 276–7 independence, 265

Index

Indian Treasure Trove Act, 271 industrialisation effects, 269 International Council of Museums (ICOM) membership, 266, 278 international exhibitions, 265–6 Mandalay Palace, 271 Mandalay Palace Museum, 268 Mandalay Regalia removal as British right, 271 museum sector development, 280 Nat-hlaung-kyaing temple sculptures, 278 National Museum Nay Pyi Taw, 265 National Museum Nay Pyi Taw, Buddha statue returned from Norway, 274 National Museum Yangon, 265, 266–7, 266, 272, 273 National Museum Yangon, Bagan Buddha, 273, 274, 275 National Museum Yangon, Lion Throne, 270, 271, 272 nomination dossiers, 274–6 objects, attitudes to, 269–71 ownership issues, 279–80 Phayre Provincial Museum, 268 political change, 265 post-independence acts of repatriation, 271–2 and provenance, 273, 278 Queen Supayalat Treasure Chest, 111, 271 repatriation process shortcomings, 274, 275, 276–7, 279–80 Shwemawdaw Pagoda, Bago, objects returned from New Zealand, 273–4, 279 U Khin Shwe private collection, 277 UNESCO Convention on Cultural Property, 265, 267, 274, 277–9 Western principles of cultural heritage management, 267–8 buyers, effects of pressure from, and selling of Khmer artefacts, 49–54, 51, 55 Cambodia Banteay Chhmar wall, 14, 14 Banteay Srei statues, 6, 64 Battambang Museums, 13, 17 Bilateral Agreement with Thailand, 17 Cambodian-Vietnamese War, 13 gold jewellery pieces, comparison with Thailand repatriation, 241 Harihara head return, 156 international trade effects, 13 Lower Mekong Archaeological Project, 15 smuggling of antiquities to Thailand, 13–15, 16, 66, 69, 70, 71 subsistence looting, 15 US-Cambodia Cultural Property Agreement, 17, 20

293

Cambodia, looting of Koh Ker, 13, 62–86 and Adoration and Glory (Bunker and Latchford), 69, 70, 72, 73, 76, 77 Angkor Conservation Office, 19, 44, 66 APSARA Authority, 63, 68, 72 “blood antiquities”, 20, 62 Cambodian Law on the Protection of Cultural Heritage, 17, 72 Cambodian Ministry of Culture and Fine Arts, 66 Chok Gargyar royal city, 63 civil war effects, 66–8, 71 destruction of statues, 69, 70, 71–2, 71 École française d’Extrême-Orient (EFEO) studies, 65, 66, 68 Koh Ker art significance, 63–5 Koh Ker location, 63–4, 65, 66 Mekong expedition, 65, 81 Musée Albert Sarraut (National Museum of Cambodia), 65–7 “narrative iconography”, 64 National Museum of Cambodia, 66, 67, 77, 80 Prasat Bak, Ganesha statue, 67, 69, 77 Prasat Bantheay Pi Choan, Brahma head, 70–1, 77 Prasat Chrab temple, Shiva torsos, 66 Prasat Krachap, Skanda sculpture, 68, 69, 77 Prasat Pram temple, Vishnu torso, 66 private collections, auctions and museums, 72 and provenance, 68, 72, 76 repatriation celebrations, 77–80, 78–9 restitution claims, 62, 64 Thailand, smuggling of artefacts to, 66, 69, 70, 71 three-dimensional sculptures, 64 UNESCO Convention, 17, 62, 72–3 UNESCO National Commission research, 68–9 and US-Cambodia Cultural Property Agreement, 17, 20, 62 World Heritage Committee Tentative List, 80 Cambodia, looting of Koh Ker, Prasat Chen temple Balarama statue, 73 Bali and Sugrib statues, 66 Banteay Srei comparison, 64 Bhima statue, 11, 64, 72, 73, 75 bird-women, 68, 69, 77 “Chinese warriors”, 69 Duryodhana statue, 64, 72–3, 74 Hanuman, 75–6, 76 Mahabharata and Ramayana narrative groupings, 64, 72 Pandava brothers (Sadeva and Nakula), 72, 73–5, 77 Rama torso, 76, 77, 78–80 Ramayana battle depiction, 75–6 returning sculptures, 72–7, 156, 163

294

Vishnu dedication, 64 Cambodia, looting of Koh Ker, Prasat Kraham temple Bhima statue, 66 central motifs of the lintels, 70 dancing Shiva heads, 66, 70 door guards, 70 Duryodhana statue, 66 Musée Albert Sarraut acquisitions, 66–7 Uma statue, Shaivite goddess, 65 Umamaheshvara statue, 70 Cambodia, looting of Koh Ker, Prasat Thom sanctuary Arjuna statue, 66 dedicated to Shiva, 63–4 devaraja cult, 64–5 Garuda statue, 66, 70 Jayavarman IV, seated statue, 65 Kalichamunda statue, 70 mythical lion sculpture, 66 Phnom Penh Museum transfers of sculptures, 69 Shiva head, 70 wrestlers, 70 Yama statue, 70 Cambodia, selling of Khmer artefacts during colonial era, 12–13, 41–61, 102, 148 Albert Sarraut Museum, 44, 47–8 antiquities commission, 43–4 Battambang, Siem Reap and Sisophon provinces regained from Siam, 43 Corporations cambodgiennes guild of craftsmen, 44 École française d’Extrême-Orient (EFEO) and heritage preservation, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47–8, 50, 54 economic investment and tourism development, 43 heritage perception and preservation, 54–6 heritage protection legislation, 43 Parc d’Angkor boundaries, 54 and provenance, 42, 47 School of Arts, 44 Service des Arts creation, 44 Société des Amis d’Angkor, 45 temples and dismantled blocks, re-use of, 46 Cambodia, selling of Khmer artefacts during colonial era, authorisation to sell, 44–54 contradictory arguments, 45 evolution of sales, 47–54 Hevajra bust, 52, 54, 55–6 “interesting piece” definition, 45–6, 55 international museums, liaison with, 54 international promotion argument, 50 object selection criteria, 47, 49–50, 54–5 object types, 46–7 pressure from buyers, effects of, 49–54, 51, 55 price estimation, 48–9, 50, 55

Index

sales at Albert Sarraut Museum, Phnom Penh, 47–8 sales officially ended, 54 selling of “debris”, 45, 46, 48 shortlisted pieces, 48–9, 49 temple maintenance and profits, 45 tourism encouragement, 55 triple validation requirements, 47 Carpeaux, Charles, 141 Cham sculpture, see Vietnam, Đồng Dương gallery, Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng Charoenwongsa, Piset, 89, 90 “Chinese warriors”, Prasat Chen temple, 69 Chok Gargyar royal city, 63 Christie’s, 62, 239 Balarama statue, Prasat Chen temple, 73 see also Sotheby’s; Spink & Son Chulalongkorn, King, 10 Chumbhot, Princess, 10, 89, 91–4 Citroën collection, 55 civil war effects, Cambodia, looting of Koh Ker, 66–8, 71 Coedès, George, 12, 50 conservation, in-house conservation work, Mandalay regalia, 124–5 copies and fakes Ban Chiang artefacts, 92, 97 Prakhon Chai Hoard, 241 Radya Pustaka Museum collection, Solo, 18 see also provenance custodianship recommendation, Mandalay regalia, display at South Kensington (V&A), 116, 119–27 passim, 132–3 Daendels, Herman Willem, see Indonesia, Raden Saleh paintings, The Portrait of Daendels dagger and sheath (than lyet) symbolic handover, Mandalay regalia, 123–4 Dalhousie sword confusion, Mandalay regalia, 130, 131 Damrong, Prince, 10, 12 Dawei beads, 16 debris, selling of, Cambodia, 45, 46, 48 Delaporte, Louis, 65 Deva statues, Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, 141, 142, 146, 147–50, 154–5 devaraja cult, Koh Ker, 64–5 Diponegoro, Prince The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro, see Indonesia, Raden Saleh paintings, The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro statue, Jakarta, 199, 200 Diponegoro, Prince, return of artefacts, 189, 198 horse reins, non-return, 202 kris, 199–200, 203 spear, saddle and pilgrim’s staff, 223

Index

Đồng Dương gallery, see Vietnam, Đồng Dương gallery, Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng door guards, Prasat Kraham temple, 70 Doudart de Lagrée, Ernest, 65 Durga Slaying the Demon Mahisa statue, 227 Duryodhana statue Prasat Chen temple, 64, 72–3, 74 Prasat Kraham temple, 66 Dutch East India Company, see under Netherlands, The EFEO (École française d’Extrême-Orient) and heritage preservation Đồng Dương gallery, Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, 150, 153, 155–6 Khmer artefacts during colonial era, 41–8 passim, 50, 54 and looting of Koh Ker, 65, 66, 68 Elgin Marbles, claims concerns, 117, 122 Engelhard, Nicolaus, 7, 9, 177 Europalia Arts Festival, 221, 226 fakes, see copies and fakes Farid, Hilmar, and rejection of repatriation offer, 191–2, 193, 202 Fight between an African Buffalo and Two Lions (Raden Saleh), 171 finger rings, Lombok treasure, 188–9 Finot, Louis, 45, 46 Louis Finot Museum, Hà Nội, 150–1 Fojut, Noel, 222–3, 232n73 forgeries, see copies and fakes France EFEO, see EFEO (École française d’Extrême-Orient) Guimet Museum of Asian Art, Paris, 239–40 Guimet Museum of Asian Art, Paris, Champa sculptures, 141, 147, 150, 151, 151, 154 Musée Indochinois du Trocadéro, Paris, 65 FSP (Fonds de Solidarité Prioritaire) project, Đồng Dương gallery, Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, 139, 142, 151 Gandhara Buddha, 6 Ganesha and Nandi statues, Singasari, 227 Ganesha statue, Prasat Bak, 67, 69, 77 Garuda statue, Prasat Thom, 66, 70 Germany Hamburg Museum, Myanmar artefacts, 272 Vietnam artefacts illegally exported to, 153–4 Völkerkunde Museum, Berlin, 150, 278

295

Glover, Ian C., 15 goose, hintha (sacred goose), Mandalay regalia, 123, 125, 131 Gorman, Chester, 89, 90, 92, 100 Great Post Road colonial project, Indonesia, 174, 177 Green, James Henry, 5 Griswold, Alexander B., 11 Groslier, George, 22, 44, 45, 46–7, 54, 65 guardianship concept, 21 Hague Conventions, 16, 114 Hailee Selassi crown, 117, 119 Hanuman, Prasat Chen temple, 75–6, 76 Hardjasoemantri, Koesnadi, 169–70 Harihara head, 156 harp, bequeathed to V&A, 129–30, 129 headdress Queen’s headdress, V&A collection, 129–30, 130 royal male headdress, Mandalay regalia, 111, 113 heritage diplomacy, Burma (Myanmar), museums and repatriation, 280 Hevajra bust, and selling of Khmer artefacts, 52, 54, 55–6 Hindu-Javanese palm-leaf manuscript Nagarakertagama, 20, 197 hintha (sacred goose), Mandalay regalia, 123, 125, 131 historical and sentimental value consideration, Mandalay regalia, 119–20, 121–2 see also value hobby looting, Plai Bat, 248–9 see also looting Hoeksema de Groot, General P.F., 4 Hong Kong, 16 Horniman, Frederick, 5 Hoyt, Thomas (Todd Swain as), 94–5 India Burmese weapons from Fort William, Kolkata, 272 Mandalay regalia and Government of India involvement, 114–16 relics of Buddha’s chief disciples returned to India, Mandalay regalia comparison, 133 India Office Library, 120, 121, 127 Indian Court of the Colonial and Indian Exhibition, South Kensington (V&A), 115 Indian Treasure Trove Act, 271 Indonesia, 4 Borobudur, 8, 11, 21 Borobudur Buddha head, 8 British colonialism, 7–9 Diponegoro statue, Jakarta, 199, 200

296



Dutch colonialism, 3–4, 7 Dutch East India Company governor-generals, paintings of, 174 Javanese antiquities, 7–9, 8 Law on the Advancement of Culture, 226, 227 legislation on protection of cultural property, 17–18 Nagarakertagama manuscript, Java, 20, 197 Netherlands (The) repatriation agreement, 20 Prambanan, 11, 12 Radya Pustaka Museum, Solo, 18 Trowulan, 16 Indonesia, postcolonial national identity, 213–34 and The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro (Raden Saleh), 168 Buddhist and Hindu religions as belonging to the past, 217 Diponegoro, Prince, spear, saddle and pilgrim’s staff, 223 Durga Slaying the Demon Mahisa statue, 227 and Dutch national identity and pride, 219, 224 Law on the Advancement of Culture, 226, 227 Lombok treasures, 20, 188–9, 189, 198, 219, 223, 225 Mahakala statue, 227 Nandi and Ganesha statues, 227 Nandisvara as the Gate Keeper statue, 227 “Shared Cultural Heritage” project, 221–2 Shiva as Kala of Bhairava statue, 227 UNESCO Convention on Cultural Property, 213–14, 220 values attributed to cultural heritage, 214 Indonesia, postcolonial national identity, Prajnaparamita statue, Singasari temple, 9, 12, 18, 20, 187, 190, 215–22, 216 Batavian Society, see Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences date and provenance, 215 economic value, 225–6 Europalia Arts Festival, 221, 226 handover ceremony, 219–20 institutional value, 223–4 intrinsic value, 223, 227 National Museum of Indonesia, 20–1, 215, 216, 219–20, 223 National Museum of Indonesia, Indonesia: The Discovery of the Past exhibition, 222 National Museum of Indonesia, Treasure Room collection, 223 National Museum of Indonesia vision statement, 221 Netherlands (The), sent to, 215–17 repatriation in 1970s, 198, 198, 202 restitution negotiations and Joint Recommendations, 219, 226–7 restitution and object value, 222–6 Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam display, 217–19

Index

and royal females, association with, 220, 224–5 as significant artwork, 220, 224 socio-political context and value, 225 “universal” value and global appreciation, 228 Indonesia, Raden Saleh paintings, 163–86 Bintang Mahaputra Adipradana (“Star for a Great Son”) award, 172 Boschbrand (“Forest Fire”), 171, 178–9 A Buffalo Hunt in Java, 171 Dutch royal patronage, and Indonesian patriotism issues, 170 Fight between an African Buffalo and Two Lions, 171 International Colonial and Export exhibition, Amsterdam, 167 “King’s Painter” award by King Willem III of the Netherlands, 166 La Casse au Taureau Sauvage, 173 Lion Hunt, 166 National Gallery exhibitions, 172–3 Netherlands (The) and return of cultural objects to Indonesia, 168–70, 171, 174, 176, 177–8, 179, 197 Piagam Anugerah Seni (“Art Award Certificate”), 171 Pieneman, Nicolaas, The Submission comparison, 169, 170, 173 as postal stamps, 171 Raden Saleh’s early life, 164–6 Raden Saleh’s grave, renovation of, 170–1 Raden Saleh’s patronage, 166 Raden Saleh’s portrait, 165 repatriated objects and heritage status, connection between, 164 Indonesia, Raden Saleh paintings, The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro, 166–70, 167, 172 Diponegoro statues, 168 former family residence as museum, 168 and Indonesian national identity, 168 Java War gallery display, 167–8, 171 and nationalist narrative, 172–3 and Pahlawan Nasional (National Heroes) list, 168 President Sukarno and Palace Collection, 171–2 repatriation (as Dutch royal gift), 171, 179 request for Dutch royal family to give up ownership, 169–70 Sudjojono, Sindudarsono, criticism by, 170 Indonesia, Raden Saleh paintings, The Portrait of Daendels, 174–8, 175 Daendels as governor-general, 176–7 and Great Post Road colonial project and negative images, 174, 177 and portrait gallery of VOC governor-generals, 174, 176, 177, 178 Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam collection, 174, 176, 177–8

297

Index

Rijswijk Palace display, 176 Indonesia, returns by the Netherlands, 187–208 archaeological and ethnographic object collections, 189–90 attempted coup d’état, effects of, 195 Batavian Society, see Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences museum colonial object categories, 187–90 Diponegoro, Prince, artefacts, 189 Dutch East India Company (VOC) and war booty, 188, 194 gift-giving, 189 Indonesia independence proclamation and Cultural Agreement, 194–5, 196, 201 Lombok treasure, 20, 188–9, 189, 198, 219, 223, 225 missionary collections, 190 Museum Nusantara collection, Delft, 189, 190–1, 202 National Museum of Indonesia, 187, 191, 193, 199, 202, 203 National Museum of World Cultures, the Netherlands, 191, 203 private collections, 190 research project into colonial violence, 201 state-owned “Collection Netherlands”, 191 “tainted” objects, 188–90, 194, 196 war booty, 188–9, 194, 196 Indonesia, returns by the Netherlands, repatriation in 1970s, transfer of precious objects, 194–200, 202 Diponegoro horse reins, 202 Diponegoro kris, 199–200, 203 Diponegoro, Prince, pieces, 198 Hindu-Javanese palm-leaf manuscript Nagarakertagama, 20, 197 Joint Recommendations, 196–9 news agencies, use of, 195 non-state (Dutch) owners of Indonesian objects, 198–9, 202 Papua cultural objects, 195, 197 Prajnaparamita statue, 198, 198, 202 transfer in stages, 197–8 Indonesia, returns by the Netherlands, repatriation in 2010s, 190–4, 201 Buginese kris, 192–3, 193, 203 ethnological museums worldwide, objects to, 192–3 Farid, Hilmar, and rejection of repatriation offer, 191–2, 193, 202 project group, 191, 192, 193–4 provenance research, 191, 203 Indravarman II, Indrapura dynasty, 141 “interesting piece” definition, and selling of Khmer artefacts, 45–6, 55 International Council of Museums (ICOM), 214, 266, 278

International Law Association (ILA), Principles for Cooperation, 214 Internet and social media, see Thailand (Siam), Plai Bat and social media activism Irwin, John, 114, 115, 117, 119–24 passim, 126, 131–2, 135n14 jar with spirals, Ban Chiang, 93 Jayavarman IV, 13, 63, 65 Joko Widodo, President, 192, 193 Juliana, Queen, 20, 171 Kachin textiles, 5 Kalichamunda statue, Prasat Thom, 70 Ken Dedes, Queen, Singasari kingdom, 220, 224 Khao Sam Kaeo, 15 Khmer artefacts, see Cambodia, selling of Khmer artefacts during colonial era Koh Ker, see Cambodia, looting of Koh Ker Konbaung dynasty, 111–12, 123, 133 see also Burma (Myanmar), Mandalay regalia Korat Plateau heritage, and Sam-Nuk Sam-Roi Ong (SSO) group, 240–1, 243, 246–7, 251–2, 255, 256–7 Krabi, 15 kris Austria, World Museum, Vienna, 199 Buginese kris return by the Netherlands, 187, 192–3, 193, 203 Diponegoro, Prince, 199–200, 203 Kruseman, Cornelis, 166 Kubua Ancient City, Ratchaburi, 237, 258n7 La Casse au Taureau Sauvage (Raden Saleh), 173 labelling, Đồng Dương gallery, Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, 145–7, 150 Laksmindra-Lokesvara (Bodhisattva Tara) statue, Đồng Dương gallery, Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, 141, 142 land rights and heritage laws, effects of, Plai Bat, 253 Latchford, Douglas, Adoration and Glory, 69, 70, 72, 73, 76, 77 Le Bonheur, Albert, 239–40, 244 Le May, Reginald, 10–11 Lemire, Charles, 42 lintels Prasat Kraham temple, central motifs, 70 Prasat Phanom Rung sanctuary, Narai Lintel, 18–19, 19, 20, 99, 235, 252 Lion Hunt (Raden Saleh), 166

298

lion sculpture, Prasat Thom sanctuary, 66 Lion Throne Hluttaw or High Court, Mandalay regalia, 112 National Museum Yangon, 270, 271, 272 Saya San crowning, 134 local history research trends, Thailand, 238, 243, 244, 254–5 Lombok treasures, 20, 188–9, 189, 198, 219, 223, 225 looting, 12–16 Ban Chiang, 91–4, 99 hobby looting, Plai Bat, 248–9 jewellery by women of the palace, Mandalay regalia, 114 Koh Ker, see Cambodia, looting of Koh Ker Prakhon Chai Hoard, 239–40, 241, 242–3, 244, 246–9, 253 Prakhon Chai Hoard, anti-antiquities trafficking advocates, looters becoming, 243, 247, 248, 250 smuggling, 13–15 subsistence looting, 15, 91 see also provenance Lower Mekong Archaeological Project, Cambodia, 15 Luang Poh Sila Buddha, Thung Sangiam temple, 19 Lyons, Elizabeth, 89–90, 92–4 Mahabharata and Ramayana narrative groupings, Prasat Chen temple, 64, 72 Mahakala statue, Singasari, 227 Mahamuni Buddha, Arakan, 13 Malaysia, 3, 4 Bujang Valley, 11 Sarawak Museum, Kuching, 192–3 Malik, Adam, 169 Mallon, Paul, 148, 150 Malraux, André, 6, 6 Mandalay Palace, 124, 132 Lion Throne, 270, 271, 272 Mandalay regalia, see Burma (Myanmar), Mandalay regalia Palace Museum Mandalay, 268 Mangkunegara VI, 12 Marchal, Henri, 46, 47, 48, 54 Markell, Jonathan, 88, 94–6, 98, 103n3 Marryat, Frederick, 5 media involvement news agencies, use of, and Indonesia, returns by the Netherlands, 195 social media activism, see Thailand (Siam), Plai Bat and social media activism Mekong expedition, and looting of Koh Ker, 65, 81n19 military Prize Committee involvement, Mandalay regalia, 114, 115, 122 Mindon, King, 4, 128

Index

missionary collections, Indonesia, 190 “modernist display”, issues with, Đồng Dương gallery, Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, 143–4 Mongkut, King, 10 Monnereau, D., 9, 190, 215, 223, 227 Mountbatten, Lord Louis, 123, 271 “museum effect” and decontextualisation, Đồng Dương gallery, Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, 144–7 Myanmar, see Burma (Myanmar) Nagarakertagama, Hindu-Javanese palm-leaf manuscript, 20, 197 Nakee television series, 255 Nandi and Ganesha statues, Singasari, 227 Nandisvara as the Gate Keeper statue, 227 Nang Klao, King, 4 Napoleon III, 4 Narai lintel, Prasat Phanom Rung sanctuary, 18–19, 19, 20, 99, 235, 252 Nat-hlaung-kyaing temple sculptures, Bagan, 278 national identity, Indonesia, see Indonesia, postcolonial national identity Ne Win, General, 121, 122, 123–4, 131, 133, 134, 265 Netherlands, The The Arrest of Prince Diponegoro (Raden Saleh), repatriation, 169–70, 171, 179 Asian Art Society, 50 Batavian Society, see Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences Dutch East India Company (VOC), 3–4, 7, 9, 11, 12 Dutch East India Company (VOC), portrait gallery of governor-generals, 174, 176, 177, 178 Dutch East India Company (VOC) and war booty, 188, 194 Dutch national identity and pride, 219, 224 Indonesian artefacts, return of, see Indonesia, returns by the Netherlands International Colonial and Export exhibition, Amsterdam, 167 Museum Bronbeek, Arnhem, 199, 200, 202 Museum Nusantara collection, Delft, 189, 190–1, 202 Museum van Aziatische Kunst, 50 Museum Volkenkunde, Leiden (Museum of World Cultures), 191, 199, 200, 202, 203, 227 National Museum of Antiquities, Leiden, Reinwardt collection, 217, 218, 222 National Museum of Ethnology, Leiden, Prajnaparamita statue, 9 Nieuwe Kerk Dam Square, Amsterdam, Indonesia: The Discovery of the Past exhibition, 222 Prajnaparamita statue, 215–19

299

Index



and Raden Saleh paintings, 168–70, 171, 174, 176, 177–8, 179 Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, Borobudur Buddha head, 8 Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, Indonesian artefacts, 199–200, 203, 217 Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, The Portrait of Daendels (Raden Saleh), 174, 176, 177–8 Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, Prajnaparamita statue, 217–19 royal patronage, Raden Saleh paintings, 166, 170 state-owned “Collection Netherlands”, 191 New Zealand, Shwemawdaw Pagoda, Bago, objects returned to Myanmar, 273–4, 279 news agencies, use of, and Indonesia, returns by the Netherlands, 195 Nguyễn Dynasty, Queen Mother Từ Minh’s rickshaw, 153, 154 nine thrones, Mandalay Palace, 112 nomination dossiers, Burma (Myanmar), 274–6 Norway, Buddha statue returned to Myanmar, 274 object selection criteria, selling of Khmer artefacts, 47, 49–50, 54–5 objects, attitudes to, and Myanmar culture, 269–71 Oertel, F.O., 268–9 Olson, Robert E., 94–6, 98, 103n3 One hundred missing objects: Looting in Angkor, 17, 19 online marketing, see Thailand (Siam), Plai Bat and social media activism oral history, Prakhon Chai Hoard, 244, 252 Pagan, see Bagan Pandava brothers (Sadeva and Nakula) statues, Prasat Chen temple, 72, 73–5, 77 Papua cultural objects, returns by the Netherlands, 195, 197 Parc d’Angkor boundaries, 54 Paris, Camille, 42 Parmentier, Henri, 45, 48, 65, 67, 69, 140, 141, 148, 150, 158n27 Payen, Antoine August Joseph, 164, 167 Pearn, Professor B.R., 117–18 Phanom Rung, Narai Lintel, 18–19, 19, 20, 99, 235, 252 Phaya Tani cannon, Bangkok, 13 Phayre Provincial Museum, 268 Phimai, 15, 243, 247, 249, 250 Piagam Anugerah Seni (“Art Award Certificate”), Raden Saleh, 171 Pieneman, Nicolaas, The Submission, Raden Saleh comparison, 169, 170, 173

Plai Bat and social media activism, see Thailand (Siam), Plai Bat and social media activism postage stamps, Raden Saleh paintings as, 171 Pott, Pieter, 198, 200 Prajnaparamita statue, see Indonesia, postcolonial national identity, Prajnaparamita statue Prakhon Chai Hoard, see Thailand (Siam), Plai Bat and social media activism, Prakhon Chai Hoard Prambanan, 11, 12 Prang Ku Suan Taeng sanctuary, 18 Prasat Bak, Ganesha statue, 67, 69, 77 Prasat Bantheay Pi Choan, Brahma head, 70–1, 77 Prasat Chen temple, see Cambodia, looting of Koh Ker, Prasat Chen temple Prasat Chrab temple, Shiva torsos, 66 Prasat Hin Khao Plai Bat II, 99 Prasat Krachap, Skanda sculpture, 69, 77 Prasat Kraham temple, see Cambodia, looting of Koh Ker, Prasat Kraham temple Prasat Phanom Rung sanctuary, Narai Lintel, 18–19, 19, 20, 99, 235, 252 Prasat Pram temple, Vishnu torso, 66 Prasat Thom sanctuary, see Cambodia, looting of Koh Ker, Prasat Thom sanctuary precedent, undesirable concerns, and Mandalay regalia restitution, 117–18, 119, 120, 121, 122–3, 126, 127–8 Prendergast, Sir Harry, 112–14 preservation, site preservation problems, Plai Bat, 237–8, 239 pressure from buyers, effects of, selling of Khmer artefacts, 49–54, 51, 55 price estimation, selling of Khmer artefacts, 48–9, 50, 55 see also value Profumo, John, 117 provenance, 14–15, 16 Ban Chiang ownership, 95, 99 Burma (Myanmar), museums and repatriation, 273, 278 Netherlands (The), repatriation to Indonesia in 2010s, 191, 203 Plai Bat, 239, 241–2, 256, 257 Prajnaparamita statue, 215 selling of Khmer artefacts, 42, 47 see also copies and fakes; looting public awareness of local heritage, Plai Bat and social media activism, 235, 236, 237–9 Quaritch Wales, Horace Geoffrey, 11 Raden Saleh, see Indonesia, Raden Saleh paintings Radya Pustaka Museum collection, Solo, 18

300

Raffles, Sir Thomas Stamford, 7–9, 215 Rajapatni, Queen, 220, 224 Rama torso, Prasat Chen temple, 76, 77, 78–80 Rama V, 11–12 Ramayana battle depiction, Prasat Chen temple, 75–6 Ramayana and Mahabharata narrative groupings, Prasat Chen temple, 64, 72 Ramkhamhaeng, King, throne and stele, 10 regional exceptionalism, and local identity, Thailand, 249–50, 251–4 Reinwardt, C.G.C., 215, 217 religious fragments collection, Đồng Dương gallery, Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, 140–2 rickshaw, Từ Minh, Queen Mother, 153, 154 Rijswijk Palace display, The Portrait of Daendels (Raden Saleh), 176 Roper, Sir Harold, 117 royal headdress, see headdress rural-urban divide in heritage conservation, Plai Bat, 237–8, 239 Russia, State Hermitage Museum, Nat-hlaung-kyaing temple sculptures, 278 Rutte, Mark, 192, 193 Saleh, Raden, see Indonesia, Raden Saleh paintings Sam-Nuk Sam-Roi Ong (SSO) group and Korat Plateau heritage, 240–1, 243, 246–7, 251–2, 255, 256–7 Samnang Phin, 68 Sarraut, Albert, Albert Sarraut Museum, 44, 47–8, 65–7 Saya San uprising, 133–4 Schelfhout, Andreas, 166 selling of Khmer artefacts, see Cambodia, selling of Khmer artefacts during colonial era sentimental value, Mandalay regalia, 119–20, 121–2 see also value Shaivism and Vaishnavism traditions, evidence of, Đồng Dương gallery, Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, 141–2 “Shared Cultural Heritage” project, Indonesia, 221–2 Shinsawbu, Queen, relics, 129, 130, 131 Shiva dancing Shiva heads, Prasat Kraham temple, 66, 70 dedication, Prasat Thom sanctuary, 63–4 head, Prasat Thom sanctuary, 70 as Kala of Bhairava statue, 227 torsos, Prasat Chrab temple, 66 Shwemawdaw Pagoda, Bago, objects returned from New Zealand, 273–4, 279 Si Canasa culture, Plai Bat, 239, 244, 251, 254 Siam, see Thailand (Siam) Siem Reap, 19, 41, 43, 46, 48, 66, 69

Index

Silapakorn University involvement, Plai Bat, 241, 246, 252 Simon, Norton, Norton Simon Museum, Pasadena, 11, 72, 73, 239 Singapore, 3, 16 Boschbrand (“Forest Fire”) (Raden Saleh), Singapore acquisition, 178–9 Raffles Museum, 11 Singasari temple Ganesha and Nandi statues, 227 Mahakala statue, 227 and postcolonial national identity, 215, 219 Prajnaparamita statue, see Indonesia, postcolonial national identity, Prajnaparamita statue, Singasari temple Sisatchanalai kilns, 15 Sisophon, 41, 43 site preservation problems, Plai Bat, 237–8, 239 Skanda sculpture, Prasat Krachap, 68, 69, 77 social media activism, see Thailand (Siam), Plai Bat and social media activism Sotheby’s, 19, 62, 239 Bagan Buddha, 273 Duryodhana statue, 72–3, 74 Khmer antiquities, 15 Prakhon Chai bronze sculpture, 235 see also Christie’s; Spink & Son South Korea, Asia Cultural Centre, 193–4 Spink & Son, 73–4, 239–40 see also Christie’s; Sotheby’s spiritual and local identity and regional exceptionalism, Plai Bat, 249–50, 251–4 Sri Lanka, 133 Tara goddess statue, 279 stamps, Raden Saleh paintings as, 171 Suan Pakkard Museum, 89, 91, 92–4 subsistence looting, 15, 91 see also looting Sudjojono, Sindudarsono, criticism of Raden Saleh, 170 Sugrib and Bali statues, Prasat Chen temple, 66 Sukarno, President, 171–2, 178, 194, 195, 196 Supayalat, Queen, Treasure Chest, 111, 271 Swain, Todd (as Thomas Hoyt), 94–5 Switzerland Rietberg Museum, Zurich, Bodhisattva statue, 148–50 Rietberg Museum, Zurich, Deva statue, 147, 148, 154–5 “tainted” objects, Indonesia, 188–90, 194, 196 Tak-Omkoi burial sites, 15 Tanintharyi beads, 16 tax evasion and trafficking, Ban Chiang, 95–6 Thailand (Siam), 4, 10–11

Index



Ban Don Tha Phet, 252 Bilateral Agreement with Cambodia, 17 Cambodia, smuggling of antiquities from, 13–15, 16, 66, 69, 70, 71 Chansen Museum, 238 Khao Sam Kaeo, 15 Krabi, 15 Kubua Ancient City, Ratchaburi, 237, 258n7 National Museum, 12, 20, 97–8, 238, 244–7, 246 Phaya Tani cannon, Bangkok, 13 Phimai, 15, 243, 247, 249, 250 Prang Ku Suan Taeng sanctuary, 18 Prasat Hin Khao Plai Bat II, 99 Prasat Phanom Rung sanctuary, Narai Lintel, 18–19, 19, 20, 99, 235, 252 Sisatchanalai kilns, 15 subsistence looting, 15 Tak-Omkoi burial sites, 15 Thai regalia, 111 Thung Sangiam temple, Luang Poh Sila Buddha, 19 travelling museum exhibitions to US, 101 U-Thong, 15 Wat Phra Keo temple, 10, 12 Thailand (Siam), Ban Chiang ownership, 10, 13, 15, 19, 87–107, 252 adze, 87, 88 Ancient Monuments, Antiques, Objects of Art and National Museums Act, 88–9, 99, 237 artefacts treated as stolen property, 88–9 Ban Chiang National Museum, 91 Ban Chiang Project, 89 Ban Chiang significance, 90, 99–102 Bronze Age evidence, 90, 101 copies and fakes, 92, 97 discovery of Ban Chiang, 89–90 excavation site, 87, 88 future direction, 102 jar with spirals, 93 looting and collecting, 91–4, 99 National Museum, ceremony of repatriated materials, 97 National Museum, “Early Man of Our Land”, exhibition, 97–8 prohibition of sale, purchase or transport of artefacts, 92 provenance, 95, 99 Suan Pakkard Museum, 89, 91, 92–4 subsistence looting, 91 tax evasion and trafficking of illicit materials, 95–6 Thai Fine Arts Department, 89, 90, 92, 97, 99 thermoluminescence (TL) testing, 90, 91 travelling museum exhibitions to US, 101 University of Pennsylvania involvement, 90, 92 Vietnam War effect, 92–4

301

wet-rice cultivation evidence, 90 Thailand (Siam), Ban Chiang ownership, American (Southern California) museums, 13, 92–8 appraised value of artefacts, 95, 96 artefacts in, 92–4 partial returns, 96–8 partial returns, non-prosecution agreement, 97 raids on, 94–6 raids on, indictments, 96 storage, effects of, 98–9 Thailand (Siam), Plai Bat and social media activism, 15, 16, 235–63 Ancient Monuments, Antiques, Objects of Art and National Museums Act, 88–9, 99, 237 artefact prices, effects on, 237 Ban Tanot bronze head, 238, 239 Buddha with seven-headed naga sculpture, 246–7, 246 Cambodian Angkorian gold jewellery pieces comparison, 241, 242 Concordia Pavilion Museum, Bangkok, 244 cultural heritage ownership, management of, 244, 246–7 heritage protection vulnerability, 237 hobby looters and social media connections, 248–9 human and financial resources, limited, 252 Internet and open access to information, 240 local history research trends and heritage site tourism, 238, 243, 244, 254–5 museums, establishment of, 238–9, 242, 243, 246, 249–50 narratives surrounding antiquities, 242 National Museum, 244–7, 246 National Museum Fine Arts Department, 237, 238, 241, 246, 247, 249, 251, 252, 253 National Single Window System for Import and Export of Antiquities, 237 and official media outlets, 237 and provenance, 239, 241–2, 256, 257 public awareness of local heritage, 235, 236, 237–9 repatriation demand process, 240–1, 243 repatriation movements, 255–7 repatriation movements, organisational costs, 255–6 rural-urban divide in heritage conservation and site preservation problems, 237–8, 239 Sam-Nuk Sam-Roi Ong (SSO) group and Korat Plateau heritage, 240–1, 243, 246–7, 251–2, 255, 256–7 Si Canasa culture, 239, 244, 251, 255 Silapakorn University involvement, 241, 246, 252 Thailand (Siam), Plai Bat and social media activism, antiquities and Thai nationalism, 235–6, 249–55 land rights and heritage laws, effects of, 253 media and Internet presentations, influence of, 250, 252, 256–7

302

Nakee television series, 255 social media movement for heritage repatriation, 250–1, 256–7 spiritual and local identity and regional exceptionalism, 249–50, 251–4 state treatment of heritage as embodiment of a glorious past, 251 Thailand (Siam), Plai Bat and social media activism, Prakhon Chai Hoard, 19, 235, 236, 237, 239 academic access and reputation, 241–2 genuine and forged sculptures, 241 looters becoming anti-antiquities trafficking advocates, 243, 247, 248, 250 looting, 239–40, 241, 242–3, 244, 246–9, 253 oral history, 244, 252 Plai Bat 2 Temple, 244, 247, 248, 250, 253 Plai Bat 2 Temple, Avalokiteshvara sculptures, 247, 254 provenance questions, 256 Thammarit Jira, 10 than lyet (dagger and sheath) handover, Mandalay regalia, 123–4 Thanongsak Hanwong, 240, 243–4, 247, 255, 256, 257 thermoluminescence (TL) testing, Ban Chiang, 90, 91 Thibaw, King of Burma, 5, 111, 112–14, 269, 271 Thomann, Thomas, 272–3 three-dimensional iconographic programme, Koh Ker, 64 Thung Sangiam temple, Luang Poh Sila Buddha, 19 tourism and Khmer artefacts, 43, 55 local history research trends and heritage site tourism, Thailand, 238, 243, 244, 254–5 and Plai Bat and social media activism, 254–5 trafficking of illicit materials and tax evasion, Ban Chiang, 95–6 Trowulan, 16 Từ Minh, Queen Mother, rickshaw, 153, 154

U Ba Tint, 124–5 U Khin Shwe private collection, 277 U-Thong, 15 Uma statue, Prasat Kraham temple, 65 Umamaheshvara statue, Prasat Kraham temple, 70 undesirable precedent concerns, and Mandalay regalia restitution, 117–18, 119, 120, 121, 122–3, 126, 127–8 UNESCO Convention, 16–17, 62, 72–3, 153, 213–14, 220, 265, 267, 274, 277–9 UNESCO National Commission research, Koh Ker, 68–9 “universal” value and global appreciation, Prajnaparamita statue, 228 see also value

Index

US Archaeological Resources Protection Act, 88 Asian Art Museum, San Francisco, 11, 101, 239 Ban Chiang ownership see Thailand (Siam), Ban Chiang ownership, American (Southern California) museums Bowers Museum, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98–9, 102 Chicago Art Institute, 19, 99, 252 Cleveland Museum of Art, Deva statue, 147–8, 149, 154–5 Cleveland Museum of Art, Hanuman statue, 75–6, 76 Cornell University, New York, Griswold collection, 11 Denver Art Museum, torso of Rama, 76, 77 Leonard C. Hanna Jr. Fund, 75 Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA), 88, 93, 94, 95, 98 Mingei International Museum, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 102 National Stolen Property Act, 88 New York Asia Society, Buddhist Art of Myanmar exhibition, 266 Norton Simon Museum, Pasadena, 11, 72, 73, 239 University of California Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive (BAMPFA), 94, 95, 98 University of Pennsylvania involvement, Ban Chiang, 90, 92 University of Southern California, Pacific Asia Museum (USC PAM), 94, 95, 98 US-Cambodia Cultural Property Agreement, 17, 20, 62 Walters Art Museum, Baltimore, Griswold collection, 11 US, New York Metropolitan Museum of Art, 19, 62, 72, 101, 148, 150, 239, 241 Hevajra bust, 22, 52–3, 54, 55 Lost Kingdoms exhibition of Myanmar art, 265–6 Pandava brothers, 73–5, 77 Plai Bat sculpture, 245 The Sculpture of Indonesia exhibition, 228 Vaishnavism and Shaivism traditions, evidence of, Đồng Dương gallery, Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, 141–2 Vajrayana (Mahayana) Buddhism evidence, Đồng Dương gallery, Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, 141, 145, 147 value cultural heritage attribution, Indonesia, 214 Khmer artefacts, 48–9, 50, 55 Mandalay regalia, 115, 125 Mandalay regalia, artistic value consideration, 119–20, 121, 122 Mandalay regalia, sentimental value, 119–20, 121–2 Plai Bat and artefact prices, effects on value, 237

303

Index



Prajnaparamita statue, 222–6 Prajnaparamita statue, institutional value, 223–4 Prajnaparamita statue, intrinsic value, 223, 227 Prajnaparamita, “universal” value and global appreciation, 228 vessels, Mandalay regalia, 111, 112 Vietnam antiquities commissions, 43 Cambodia, Cambodian-Vietnamese War, 13 Cambodian-Vietnamese War, 13 Cham museum, Tourane, 42 French colonialism, 3, 4, 6–7 Germany, artefacts illegally exported to, 153–4 Nguyễn Dynasty, Queen Mother Từ Minh’s rickshaw, 153, 154 Vườn Chuối, 16 Vietnam, Đồng Dương gallery, Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, 7, 13, 42, 139–62 Bodhisattva Tara/Laksmindra-Lokesvara statue, 141, 142 Buddha head, 150–3, 151–2, 154 Champa art ownership question, 147–55 Deva statues, 141, 142, 146, 147–50, 154–5 EFEO collection, 150, 153, 155–6 enclosures of monastery site, 141, 142, 148 exhibition layout and grouping of objects, 140, 142–3, 143–6, 150 FSP (Fonds de Solidarité Prioritaire) project, 139, 142, 151 Indravarman II of Indrapura dynasty, 141 labelling, 145–7, 150 large-scale excavation of monastery site (1902), 141, 148 Louis Finot Museum, Hà Nội, 150–1 “modernist display” or “white cube”, issues with, 143–4 museological devices and original monastery layout, 142, 146 “museum effect” and decontextualisation, issues with, 144–7



National Museum of Vietnamese History, artefacts in, 141, 151 religious fragments collection, 140–2 restitution requests, 151–4 Shaivism and Vaishnavism traditions, evidence of, 141–2 tenth century destruction of monastery site, 141 UNESCO Convention adoption, 153 Vajrayana (Mahayana) Buddhism evidence, 141, 145, 147 Vietnamese law on cultural heritage, 153 Vietnam War, 13, 92–4, 140 Viphavadi Rangsit, Princess, 10 Vishnu dedication, Prasat Chen temple, 64 Vishnu torso, Prasat Pram temple, 66 Voronoff, Dr, 50, 51 Vườn Chuối, 16 Walston, Lord, 121, 122 Warner, Frederick Archibald, 120–1, 136n32 Warrack, Simon, 72, 73 Wat Phra Keo temple, 10, 12 Weiner, Doris, 76, 83n85 Western principles of cultural heritage management, 267–8 wet-rice cultivation evidence, Ban Chiang, 90 “white cube” issues, Đồng Dương gallery, Museum of Cham Sculpture, Đà Nẵng, 143–4 Wong, Deborah, 100–1 World Heritage Committee Tentative List, Koh Ker, 80 World War II safe storage, Mandalay regalia, 116, 123, 124, 125 wrestlers, Prasat Thom sanctuary, 70 Yama statue, Prasat Thom, 70 Young, Stephen, 89