From the WSJ Opinion Archives
LEISURE & ARTS
A Civilized Solution to Looted Art
Why throw museum curators in prison when there's a better way?
What does it mean that the Getty Museum's former antiquities curator, Marion True, might be sentenced to prison (albeit in Italy, and in absentia) for doing what most museums considered acceptable, even desirable, just two decades ago? It means, at the very least, that a time-honored cultural cycle has finally come to a close. It is surely no longer possible for museums, or anyone else in the enlightened world, publicly to collect antiquities that lack proper provenance without fear that punishment or dispossession will ensue sooner or later.
The carabinieri have indicted Ms. True, in essence, for knowingly looting their patrimony. The Greek government, in turn, has demanded the return of several priceless vases and golden wreaths. Other aggrieved parties, such as the Turks, might well enter the fray if the carabinieri choose to share with them the evidence they've amassed. As the Getty squirms in the public pillory, other American museums, not least New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art, know that they are already in the crosshairs. In fact, the Met's director, Phillipe de Montebello has already made one pilgrimage to Rome to assess and limit the damage. The impending donation to his museum of the Shelby White antiquities collection, one of the greatest in private hands, seems unlikely now. The carabinieri contend that the collection has numerous contraband objects from Italy. The morality around acquiring antiquities parallels that of hunting certain species--it was OK for millennia and suddenly isn't anymore.
Even in the ancient world, noble Roman households collected Greek artifacts as a measure of intellectual wealth. A fine line separates the looting of poorer or subject lands from the worthy impulse to preserve and display the riches of history. The real turnaround in attitudes began in the last century during the postimperial postwar years, as countries of origin awash with ancient sites joined with high-minded idealists from the first world to deplore "patrimony theft." The Unesco Draft Treaty rumbled through the 1970s enjoining signatory nations to return looted objects. Various archaeological and museum codes of ethics followed. But, in general, loopholes abounded and those codes were often honored in the breach. Without solid evidence showing that a disputed object came from a particular site on a particular day, and without a plaintiff country's determined pursuit, treasures seldom went back. Even today, Mr. De Montebello speaks rather defiantly of requiring "incontrovertible proof."
Unfortunately, that is precisely what the carabinieri possess. Back in 1995, European authorities raided premises belonging to veteran American dealer Robert Hecht. They came up with boxfuls of incriminating diaries, documents, Polaroids, receipts and the like. It has taken this long to tabulate the material, but the carabinieri appear to be in a formidable position and a truculent mood. For the Getty, the timing couldn't be worse--on the eve of the long-awaited reopening of its Roman Villa in Malibu, Calif. No doubt other American museum directors with classical collections will soon tread the path to Rome.
One can imagine all manner of people brimming with schadenfreude over the developments: patrimony activists, cultural nationalists, archaeological purists, intellectuals and idealists of various stripes. I should be among them perhaps, having written a series of investigative articles more than a dozen years ago that led to the repatriation of significant treasures: the Met's priceless Lydian Hoard of silver and gold artifacts dating from the times of Croesus and Midas; the huge intricately carved $11 million sarcophagus once on show at the Brooklyn Museum; and sundry other material. I spent four months in the hospital for injuries inflicted by a Mediterranean smuggling mafia that I was reporting on. I had seen ancient sites from my boyhood in Turkey destroyed, Hittite rock carvings dynamited and Lycian tombs bulldozed by gangs in search of treasure.
Yet it's hard to gloat over the current public humiliation of American museums. Could there be a worse time for the U.S. to be depicted as an imperial bullyboy looting the patrimony of poorer lands? In the current climate, that so many American institutions have done so much to preserve the world's heritage will be instantly eclipsed. But above all, the polarization between museums and aggrieved nations serves neither side's interests. The latter often don't have the resources to conserve or display returned treasures, let alone protect them in the ground. (The Lydian Hoard sits neglected and half-unpacked in a small museum in rural Turkey.) For their part, American museums will spend the next decades terrified about losing every object in their antiquities vitrines.
There is a civilized, even triumphant, solution for all concerned. American museums should not grudgingly cough up artifacts piece by piece, like thieves caught with swag. They should make a virtue out of adversity and offer to share their disputed antiquities en masse with plaintiff countries--this applies above all to the Getty, which can afford to lead the world by example and precedent.
The Getty should flaunt its courage with a grand public change of heart. It should offer to build Getty museums abroad in the Guggenheim Bilbao manner to house its antiquities in style and to create a system of permanently shared collections. It should fund Getty centers of training for local archaeologists and conservators, who can excavate and protect their own national patrimony and help circulate the exhibitions that the Getty will share with their countries. The Getty would fill its Malibu Villa with undreamed of counter-loans.
Host regions would surely benefit from the tremendous promotion and ensuing tourism as Bilbao has. And, as the Guggenheim has shown, local investors often back an American brand-name museum in unprecedented ways. It's a boon for all sides and above all for America's public diplomacy. If American museum directors wish to serve their own country first, this is precisely the way to do it.
Mr. Kaylan writes for The Wall Street Journal about culture.
