Helena Smith writes in the Guardian about the Palace of Aigai, the largest surviving classical Greek building, after 16-year reconstruction completed.

For historians inside and outside Greece the new palace does something better still: refocus attention away from the classical age of Pericles in Athens to the Macedonian dynasty of northern Greece and achievements of Philip and Alexander.

“History is always about what we focus on,” said the British historian and broadcaster Michael Wood, speaking from London. “And this focuses our attention on the incredible events that began there. This small, provincial, militaristic kingdom would be the catalyst for the spread of Greek culture and Aigai the launch pad for Alexander the Great’s adventure in history, his expedition to Asia and conquest of half the known world.”

If the Parthenon represented the peak of the classical age, the royal metropolis conjured the beginning of the Hellenistic age, one that would last for hundreds of years and be felt as far as Afghanistan and India.

But there was something else, said Wood, who retraced the young warrior king’s epic journey through deserts, mountain ranges, rivers and plains from Greece to the north-west frontier of Pakistan and India in the 1990s.

The palace’s reconstruction had shown, yet again, that like the Parthenon marbles, great historical monuments have “an integrity” best seen unitedin their natural landscape. “The modern Greek state, as it should be, is proving to be a pre-eminent guardian of its ancient Greek culture,” said Wood. “What the palace also does is draw attention to the fact that the fifth-century sculptures should all be in the same place, back in Athens.”

Read Helena Smith's article in the Guardian, here.

16 October 2013, Room P4B001, European Parliament, Brussels, Belgium

Tom Flynn's presentation at yesterdays Round Table at the European Parliament in Brussels.

The round table was organised by The Swiss Committee for the Reunification of the Parthenon Marbles under the patronage of the Ministry of Culture of the Hellenic Republic and MEP Rodi Kratsa, Vice-President European Parliament 2007-2012.

 The Parthenon Marbles — A European Concern

Ladies and gentlemen, colleagues, distinguished members of the European Parliament. Let me begin by thanking Professor Sidjanskifor the kind invitation to contribute to today's Round Table. It is a pleasure and an honour to be with you in Brussels.

What can we say about the case for reunifying the Parthenon Marblesthat has not been said a thousand times before? What more can we add to the numerous persuasive argumentsalready made for reuniting the dismembered components of Phidias's finest achievement? How many more times must we convene to reiterate the importance of restoring coherence to a work of art whose desecration at the hands of Lord Elgindamaged one of Greece's greatest gifts to the world?

The answer to these questions is that there will always be more to say about the case for reunifying the Marbles. There will always be new and ever more compelling arguments for reuniting them in Athens. And until that happens our generation and future generations will continue to convene and will go on reminding the British Museumof its moral duty to restore to these objects the dignity that Lord Elgin so rudely snubbed.The story the Marbles tell, is of a cultural moment that is a precious and irreplaceable part of our birthright as Europeans and the bedrock of our democratic ideals. That story loses much of its narrative charge while its components remain dispersed across different locations.

The Parthenon Marbles are more than just a work of art. They are more than a mechanism through which to increase the footfall of cultural tourism. They are more than a means by which to impose some meaning on the randomly accumulated collections of an encyclopaedic museum.

The reason the Parthenon Marbles transcend conventional museum categorisation is that they have the potential to demonstrate that in a time of global economic turmoil and geopolitical unrest cultural objects can unite us across national boundaries and remind us of our shared humanity. I say 'potential' because there is an irrefutable logic to the proposition that a united,coherent sequence of objects that speaks with such clarity of our shared background is more likely to foster unity among nations than a fragmented series of objects that continues to symbolise disunion and cultural rupture. For this process to begin, however, the dialogue between Greece and London must rise to a higher level based on mutual trust and generosity of spirit.

The Parthenon Marbles are unquestionably important within the cultural landscape, but they have become renowned for all the wrong reasons. While they should be celebrated for representing the zenith of the Periclean building programme of fifth-century Athens, instead they are more widely recognised as the most controversial and divisive objects in world culture. They should be peacemakers but we are not allowing them to take up that peacekeeping role. Thus they have become emblematic of the wider disputes between western museums and developing nations that have become known as the 'culture wars'. While the Marbles remain immured within the Stygian gloom of the Duveen Galleries where their true significance to European art and culture is so wilfully misinterpreted and misunderstood — our attempts to build harmony in the realm of cultural heritage will be impaired. The international museum community — but more specifically the British Museum — has the power to repair that rupture. The symbolic resonance of a unifying gesture of this kind could be profound and long-lasting.

Allow me briefly to frame this within a broader context. The events that unfolded in Iraq and Afghanistan in recent years, and now in Syria, have brought unprecedented quantities of looted cultural objects onto the international art market. Many of these objects are removed from ancient sites under cover of darkness by local people seeking to scrape a meagre living for themselves and their families. Such subsistence looting destroys what archaeologists refer to as an object's 'provenience', that is the specific positional coordinates and context in which the object was located in the ground, tomb or temple site. Having been extracted, the objects and artefacts are moved up the art market food-chain, so to speak, before finally ending up in the home of wealthy collectors or museums.

Most museums now know better than to acquire objects of uncertain ownership history and the UNESCO guidelines have set down clear markers on acquisition. Moreover, thanks to the Internet and related communications technologies the world's encyclopaedic museums are now vigilantly monitored by well-informed individuals and interested parties for any hint of a problematic acquisition. The social network has become a critical filter surveying the movement of cultural heritage goods and no longer can museums acquire or display suspect objects without risking public exposure and widespread condemnation.

Nevertheless, so profound and widespread is the political turmoil ravaging the Middle East that the traffic in cultural objects is now arguably out of control. It is unlikely to improve until peace and economic stability return to the nations affected. Museums are implicated in this 'food-chain', partly as a consequence of their historical development as the repositories of cultural objects and partly because of their self-imposed obligation to continue collecting. In the last few months a major Australian museum was found to have acquired an important temple statue of Shiva that had been looted from a site in South Asia. It now seems likely that other museums were recipients of objects from the same supply chain. That said, on the other side of the equation, many museums have taken it upon themselves to return objects that have been recognised as being of specific sacred or ritual value to the source nations and communities from which they were originally expropriated during earlier times.

It is against the background of ongoing cultural upheaval that the British Museum now has an opportunity make an extraordinary gesture of reconciliation by reunifying the Parthenon Marbles. This would set an example to other museums around the world and would confirm that contrary to what many people have been led to believe, the British Museum DOES appreciate and respect the architectural significance of the Parthenon Marbles in relation to the Acropolis monument. It would be an acknowledgement that their very uniqueness justifies an amendment to the British Museum Act that has hitherto obstructed substantive progress on the issue. Our most eminent cultural heritage lawyer, Professor Norman Palmer of University College London, has pointed out that such an amendment would be perfectly achievable. This would clear the way for both parties to enter with open minds into a constructive mediation process. Instead of cleaving to an anachronistic legal instrument that will merely perpetuate the impasse, the British Museum now has an opportunity to demonstrate that Europe — and indeed the rest of the world — is unified by cultural objects, not divided by them.

Dr Tom Flynn FRICS

15 October 2013, Brussels

Cultural heritage and its symbols undoubtedly constitute the main capital of European peoples and the soul of the European Union. Respecting and restoring them is a European obligation and concern.

Rodi Kratsa MEP, European Parliament.

 http://www.opendemocracy.net/ourkingdom/henry-porter/parthenon-sculptures-its-about-liberty-too

Henry Porter : "One of the reasons I am here is the late Christopher Hitchens, a good friend with whom I worked and argued for twenty years. 

I disagreed with Christopher on practically everything - his belief in the innate corruption of Mother Teresa, for example, his enthusiasm for the Iraq invasion and for gun ownership in the United States.  

But on the return of the Parthenon Marbles to Athens, Christopher was right, and I want to take the opportunity to salute the work he did in pressing the case for restitution. To some extent my contribution today is in memory of his stimulating company and his ability to make us all think and argue better, however crazy some of his notions.  In his book, The Parthenon Marbles, he was at his most forensic, passionate and brilliantly polemical."

And indeed as Henry went onto say.... 'it's never too late'.

Coverage in the Telegraph:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/Greece

What do the Parthenon and a weird Brazilian dinosaur known as “Ubirajara jubatus”* have in common? Apparently, not much. Yet, they are both protagonists of international restitution claims. On one side, Greece’s claim for the return of the Parthenon sculptures held in the British Museum, which will soon become a bicentenary dispute. On the other, Brazil’s claim for the restitution of a fossil holotype previously held in the State Museum of Natural History in Karlsruhe and demanded since early 2021. While Brazilians got to see their fossil return home this month, Greece’s claim remains the longest-standing dispute in the field.

Despite the obviously distinct nature of both claims, they complete each other so as to form a perfect example of how relentlessly repetitive and fallacious the “arguments” presented by retentionists are. In my Master's Thesis (Munich, 2020) I analyzed Greece’s claim against the British Museum and the United Kingdom under the International Human Rights Law framework. For that, I had to deconstruct a recurrent argument for dismissing Greece’s stance: that Lord Elgin had the authorization to remove and export the sculptures.

The argument goes: Elgin obtained a written authorization (the famous “firman”) to remove and export the Parthenon Sculptures, issued in 1801 by the competent Ottoman authority, as Greece was under Ottoman rule. This claim is deeply flawed for a myriad of reasons I explored in the Thesis, but let us assume, for argument’s sake, that the surviving versions of the “firman” do reflect the content of a real document issued prior to the Parthenon’s dismemberment and the dispatch of the sculptures.

Under Ottoman Law in the early 1800s, the Sultan had absolute control over antiquities and only he could authorize such removal. Nonetheless, the document so often relied upon by the UK and the British Museum is signed by Caimacan Seged Abdullah, an acting Grand Vizier who, regardless of his high status in the Ottoman Government, had no authority to issue a firman – definitely not one concerning the export of antiquities.

Likewise, when arguing that the “Ubirajara” fossil was legally exported from Brazil, the authors that described the species claimed they had a written export authorization from an agent of the National Department for Mineral Production. The claim completely ignores that Brazilian Law forbids any export of holotypes (as the “Ubirajara”) and that, even if it were a regular fossil, the competent authority to issue such an authorization would be the National Council for Scientific and Technological Development (CNPq).

Back to the other side of the Atlantic, let us look at what this “firman” actually states. The supposed text of the 1801 Document (as the original has never been found) begins with a description of the activities Elgin wanted his workers to conduct – with no indication that he sought permission to remove any sculptures. The second part of the document expresses that it is the desire of the Ottoman Court to favor Elgin’s requests. The widespread argument that the “firman” authorized the removal of the Parthenon Sculptures relies on an extract from the last paragraph: “[no one should] hinder them from taking away any pieces of stone with inscriptions or figures”. The decontextualized interpretation of this quote ignores that, just above, the document presents an express condition to the authorization: “particularly as there is no harm in the said figures and edifices being thus viewed, contemplated, and designed”.

The sculptures were affixed to the Parthenon and were an integral part of the building. There is simply no good faith interpretation that could lead to the conclusion that the document allowed for the Parthenon’s dismantling. This quote, when properly contextualized, clearly refers to objects dug from the rubble of the Parthenon’s surroundings, which is compatible with what Elgin requested. Thus, even if we were to deem this document reliable, there is no way it authorized the export of the sculptures. What probably happened is that they left Greece in packages with misleading content descriptions (and under heavy bribes, but that's a story for another day...).

Now, it is time to zoom in on the authorization that supposedly allowed for the “Ubirajara” fossil to be exported from Brazil. As explained by Aline Ghilardi, a leading Brazilian paleontologist in the #UbirajaraBelongstoBR campaign, the “authorization” presented by the authors does not mention anything about definitively exporting the materials and does not specify the boxes’ content. In her words, “as it was written, the authors could continue to describe new species for the next 20 years alleging that all holotypes were inside of it”. In any event, the narrative by the authors was considered untrue by German authorities (but that’s another story for another day...).

Almost 200 years separate Greece's first claim over the Parthenon Sculptures and the #UbirajaraBelongstoBR campaign. Apparently, not enough to come up with better excuses for illegal and unethical behavior. Their arguments are old, weak, and honestly – and I say this as a Brazilian – offensive. We will continue to counter them all.

I end this brief commentary by drawing a last parallel between Greece and Brazil, Sculpture and Dinosaur. Two obvious statements that somehow still must be echoed:

#UbirajaraBelongstoBR

#ParthenonBelongstoGreece.

* In case you are wondering about the quotation marks, the article describing the species has since been retracted, which means that this name currently holds no taxonomic value.

Letícia Machado Haertel, Master of Laws (LMU), Specialist in Int. Cultural Heritage Law

BCRPM would like to thank Letícia  for this excellent article.

Editorial Footnote: on the pseudo-legality of Elgin’s in fact theft, see now, definitively, Catharine Titi The Parthenon Sculptures and International Law(Springer, 2023).

‘200 + 20 years in captivity. The Parthenon Sculptures from Elgin to Boris’

Paul Cartledge spoke at the Culture Through Politics online event on Sunday 11 April 17:00 BST. His talk followed on from Professor Pandermalis, President of the Acropolis Museum and was made alongside other distinguised speakers. 

‘Decolonising’ the Elgin-Parthenon Sculptures

First, may I begin with a huge vote of thanks: above all to the ‘Culture Through Politics’ group for organising this exceptionally important webinar, but also to my very distinguished fellow-invitees, for their important contributions.

Second, let me say a word about the title of our public webinar debate: it alludes of course to a very specific and very special anniversary, a famous bicentenary. And as a Greek historian colleague of mine has acutely observed, you tell me what anniversaries you want to celebrate/commemorate and I will tell you who you are. ‘1821’, in other words, is for Greece collectively and for Greeks individually a magical year – their ‘1789’, if you like. Or, in a way, our – English - ‘1066’! For it marks the beginning of a new Hellenic identity, but not only Hellenic: in retrospect, we can see that it was only the first step on the road to political freedom and ultimately to democratic self-determination throughout the continent of Europe.

To me, however, as a historian of ancient/Classical Greece/Hellas, 2021 has another signification as a major anniversary year: it is the 2500th anniversary of what the Western world’s first historian, Herodotus of Halikarnassos, called τα Μηδικα, what we ancient historians call the Graeco-Persian Wars. As in AD 1821, so in 480-479 BC, democracy as well as freedom was at stake – as I have tried to show in a number of lectures both in Athens and online. And at the beating heart of that ancient Greek – and more especially ancient Athenian – achievement of victory and liberation there lay and there still lies a building, a unique and quite extraordinary structure, one that we today – not quite accurately – refer to for short as ‘the Parthenon’.

What I want to do in my allotted 10 minutes is try briefly to con-textualise what (Lord) Elgin and his cohorts did TO – that is, against – that building and structure in and around 1801. I do so in the hope – probably a vain hope – of bringing the UK’s current, classically-educated Prime Minister to a proper appreciation both of the enormity of that long ago act of vandalism and of what now urgently needs to be done with and FOR those Parthenon Sculptures that are currently not in Athens. Which brings me to …

Thirdly, my own chosen title: “‘Decolonising’ the Elgin-Parthenon Sculptures”. If I may, I shall begin with a little autobiography. I was born in 1947, so that by my early teens I was well aware of the – literal – decolonisation, the shedding of imperial possessions, that Britain was – under its then also classically-educated PNM, Harold Macmillan – in the process of beginning. India had already ‘gone’, ‘been lost’, to the British Empire, so the focus in and around 1960 was on the continent of Africa, and I was at first puzzled to hear that the very word ‘empire’ had become – in some, enlightened quarters - a ‘dirty word’, something to be spoken of with distrust if not contempt. As I entered my late teens – and Oxford University (to read Classics, pretty much the same degree as Macmillan read before me and Johnson read after me) – I became even more acutely aware that there was something called ‘the Third World’, encompassing huge swathes of Asia, Latin America and – of course – Africa. It seemed obvious to me that the ‘Third World’ did not exist as if by nature, but was the direct product of self-interested intervention and depredation, mainly economic but also cultural, by the countries of the ‘First World’.

By the time Melina Mercouri ,in the early 1980s, launched her campaign for the repatriation and reunification of what were then usually called ‘the Elgin Marbles’ in the British Museum, it was becoming clear to me that the fact that the British Museum held the Marbles of the Parthenon (and other Athenian monuments) was part of a broader, imperial or imperial-colonial story.

I became a very early member of the British Committee for the Restitution (now Reunification) of the Parthenon Marbles [BCRPM], as it became ever clearer to me that the ‘British Museum’ should really be known as the ‘British Imperial War Museum’. As regards specifically the Parthenon Marbles in the BM, this was not only because those Marbles had been acquired – stolen – when the British Empire was at its height and as part of a very dirty deal between Britain’s imperial representative in Constantinople and the local Ottoman authorities but also because the attitude of the British Museum Trustees towards their possession of the Marbles was – still, in the 1980s - precisely imperialist or colonialist: not only – in their view – had the Marbles been legitimately (as well as legally) acquired but also they thought the BM deserved to continue to hold them because, under the stewardship of the Trustees and the relevant Keepers and other curatorial staff since 1817, the intrinsic aesthetic and cultural value of the Marbles – the Marbles in London only, that is – had been somehow enhanced. Somehow, their stay in London was represented as so much part of the overall ‘story’ of ‘the Marbles’ that reunification of the ‘Elgin Marbles’ to Athens would somehow diminish them, all of the Marbles.

That indeed remained the status quo down to 2009 – when the entire BM colonialist-imperialist ‘narrative’ was disrupted, rendered null and void, by the foundation of the (New) Acropolis Museum (NAM), under the genial Directorship of Professor Pandermalis. A new justificatory strategy was therefore required by the BM’s Trustees, and they fell back on a supposedly decisive, and incontestable, distinction of hierarchy between ‘universal’ museums such as the BM and supposedly inferior (merely) local or national museums such as the NAM. All the while, the colonialist-imperialist line remained intact for the Trustees, who even invoked the ultimate absurdity that the Parthenon Marbles that were in the BM were better understood IN the BM – better there than anywhere else indeed, because they could be seen and appreciated in the context of all other ‘world’ cultures represented artefactually in that same (8 million…) collection. What the BM Trustees could not, however, either see or anticipate was that a big anti-colonial head of steam was building up, focused especially though not of course uniquely on artefacts looted from Africa.

I know a good deal about that anti-colonial head of steam because it has come to affect not only the Marbles but even my own discipline and profession of Classics, especially since the beginning of this year but not only since then by any means. In the very same decade that the BCRPM was founded (in 1983) scholars who were not actually Classicists began to put it about that Classics as a discipline was fundamentally flawed at its very roots and conception: it was at best an ethnocentric, at worst a racist and sexist, project of Western and male and white supremacy, rooted in the study of societies that were themselves based on slavery and generally sexist too. So, why bother to study two main ancient civilisations – the Greek and the Roman - that had so little that was admirable let alone imitable to offer us?

Needless to say, there are defences – very good defences – available to those who believe (as I do) that Classics has a great deal that is positive still to offer us, and that a key part of that is a story about freedom and democracy, a story that has at - and as - its centre the Parthenon. In my ‘Salamis 2500’ lectures I always end with the Parthenon and its place within the entire Athenian Acropolis building programme of the second half of the 5th century BC. I do so because the Athenians decided democratically to have the Parthenon built, in a quite extraordinary way, as an overpowering symbol: both of what it meant to be Greek, as the Athenians of the 5th century BC understood that – free both personally (free from) and politically (free to), self-governing, and of what it meant to be democratic – that is, giving the lion’s share of the political power of self-determination to the demos of the Athenians, the poor majority of the empowered (free, adult, male) Athenian citizens.

Of course, we must not hide the many features of ancient Athenian democracy that we today would not choose to repeat – the exclusion of women, the exploitation of non-Greek slaves – but these must be understood within the context of those, very different times. The positives also need to be emphasised, unashamedly. Which is why it matters so much to me that ALL surviving sculptures from the Parthenon currently outside Athens – not only but especially those in the BM – should be returned and reunified in Athens. As regards the BM in particular, the case for reunification is not only scholarly, not only aesthetic, but also – and perhaps above all – ethical and moral. And in that regard it is above all anti-colonial: an attempt both to repair the damage both physical and metaphorical done by Britain’s colonial representative Elgin 200 years + 20 ago, and at the same time to make a progressive statement of anti-colonialism today. It is a unique case but also one that is completely in line with and in sympathy with other campaigns affecting other museums and other cultures for the repossession and reintegration of culturally identifying material artefacts.

Professor Paul Cartledge 

Taxiarches, Order of Honour, Greece

A.G. Leventis Senior Research Fellow, Clare College, Cambridge

A.G. Leventis Professor of Greek Culture emeritus, University of Cambridge

Sir, If the British Museum has thousands of uncatalogued items in store, it should have no higher priority than to catalogue them. But I cannot be persuaded that this has any bearing on the Marbles from the Parthenon. These belong together in Athens, irrespective of the competence of the British Museum’s curation. It is normal archaeological practice to unite broken fragments, just as it is normal curatorial practice to catalogue all holdings.

Professor Andrew Wallace-Hadrill
Faculty of Classics, Cambridge

08 March 2022 

Your Excellency, Mrs. President of the Hellenic Republic, Madam Vardinoyannis, Mr. President of the Acropolis Museum, honoured guests, women of the world.

Let me begin by thanking the Vardinoyannis Foundation and the Acropolis Museum for the very kind invitation to join with you all in Athens this evening. This is one of my favourite places in the world. I was here at the opening of the museum in 2009 and have been back on many occasions since. So it’s an enormous pleasure and honour to be amongst you and to see Professor Pandermalis again.

I found myself writing these words a week ago at a moment when for the first time in my life I sensed a genuine existential threat to the world order. That feeling of unease was amplified by the fact that my eldest son found himself stranded in Moscow where he has been teaching English for the past seven months to Russian schoolchildren. Restricted air travel into and out of Russia last week meant that he had to fly to Egypt in order to find a connecting flight back to London. But at least he got home safe. Not so, sadly, the numerous Ukrainian children trapped in their bombarded cities or trekking to safety in freezing temperatures under heavy artillery fire. I had hoped that by the time I delivered this talk the situation would have calmed down, but sadly the signs are ominous in the extreme. Encouragingly, however, the international community has shown rare solidarity in opposing the invasion of Ukraine.

So unity is one of the themes I’d like to explore this evening, to emphasise the importance of building and sustaining unity in Europe and where possible across the world. And culture can play a significant part in the process of unification. You can probably already see where I’m going with this, so let me turn to the main event. We are gathered here to celebrate International Women’s Day and I applaud the Foundation for linking the event to the topic of the Parthenon Marbles. At least I assume that is why I was invited? Because, yes, the Marbles are indeed a topic close to my heart, as close to my heart as are the women in my life for I am blessed with three sisters, which has given me invaluable insights into how feminine instinct is so often the right one and the masculine instinct frequently misguided.

So allow me to briefly explain the genesis of my commitment to the Marbles issue. I wrote an article for The Spectator magazine some years ago on the topic of museum deaccessioning. One person who saw that article was Eleni Cubitt, a founder and for many years the driving force behind the British Committee for the Reunification of the Parthenon Marbles, and who I’m sure will be remembered fondly by many of you here this evening. Eleni contacted me shortly after the article appeared and invited me for lunch at her favourite Greek restaurant in Islington. It became the first of many lunches and afternoon teas at her cosy little house in Highbury where we exchanged ideas and books over apple pastries and discussed the ways in which we might persuade more people to the Marbles cause. Eleni was a dear friend and a huge inspiration to me and to everyone involved in the Reunification campaign and her death a few years ago left a big hole in our lives.

My friend the American sculptor Richard Rhodes gave a TedTalk in Seattle recently in which he quoted the writer David Brooks, who advised that one should always have a permanent commitment to tasks that cannot be completed in a single lifetime. This resonated with me, for it prompted me into asking myself whether I was committed to anything, the completion of which might not be achievable in my lifetime. I concluded that the reunification of the Parthenon Marbles represents an issue about which I care deeply but that I have frequently despaired of ever seeing come to fruition. And yet, seemingly insurmountable tasks occasionally have a tendency to loosen under pressure from other forces — social, economic, geopolitical — that suddenly offer a glimmer of light. Such, I believe is the case with the Parthenon Marbles.

I was in my late teens when I first visited Athens and since then I have returned to this beautiful place more often than to any other European city. And this is where the beautiful goddesses enter the picture. I wrote my doctoral thesis on the great chryselephantine statue of Athena erected in the cella of the Parthenon during what is often referred to as the Periclean Building Programme of the mid-fifth century BCE. It was not the statue of the goddess that interested me so much as the nineteenth-century British reactions to her physical composition. As you are aware, she was constructed out of gold and ivory — and here I acknowledge the work of my American colleague Kenneth Lapatin, who has written the definitive account of the chryselephantine technique in the ancient world, which remains an invaluable resource on the subject. While I too became fascinated by Pheidias’s great gold and ivory creations, how and why they were made, what they might have meant to Athenian citizenry and so on, my own research was concerned with the controversy that grew up among European artists, critics, and academics in the early nineteenth century.

Archaeological and philological speculations about the lost statue of Athena, and the Zeus at Olympia began to appear around the same time that the Parthenon Marbles arrived in London. One of the most significant of such studies was the Jupiter Olympien, a reconstruction of the ancient chryselephantine technique assembled by the French academic Quatremère de Quincy in 1805. These various researches divided the artistic community, separating those who saw the gold and ivory tradition as evidence of the widespread use of polychrome sculpture among the ancient Greeks — and therefore an acceptable practice to emulate — and those who viewed it as antithetical to the aesthetic of pure white marble, which became the idée fixe of the neoclassical imagination. That cleaving to the neoclassical aesthetic survived into the twentieth century when even the Parthenon Marbles in the British Museum were subjected to the abrasive obsession of Joseph Duveen whose workmen misguidedly sought to restore the Marbles’ “original” whiteness by scrubbing them. It reminded me of the words of Richard Payne Knight, who, when confronted with the first lawnmowers in the early 19th century, said of their inventors: — “To improve, adorn, and polish they profess, but shave the goddess whom they came to dress.”

Of course, it was the luxurious and extremely valuable materials from which the Athena Parthenos was made that eventually brought about her terminal dismemberment. The gold plates were designed to be removable so that they could be used in the event of war or external threat. She was, then, literally a store of wealth, a convertible asset. The detachable nature of the gold plates may also have contributed to her eventual destruction for it seems possible that the tyrannical dictator Lachares fearing capture, stole the gold plates from the statue before fleeing Athens in disguise in the third century BCE.

In the early nineteenth century any number of lofty arguments were deployed to dissuade contemporary artists from emulating the ancient mixed media creations. For some critics the ‘realism’ suggested by their contrasting materials and particularly the use of ivory, veered dangerously close to waxworks, then commonly used for medical anatomical models and in Madame Tussauds lurid displays. Sculpture, it was argued, had a duty to rise above such carnivalesque persuasions. The liberal use of gold and ivory in the statue also unsettled those who looked to medieval ideas of the dubious moral connotations of luxuria. The Athena Parthenos as she was handed down in ancient testimony seemed to be the very embodiment of conspicuous consumption, luxury run rampant.

And so for me, while researching these critical reactions, the Athena Parthenos became an object of fantasy, of dreams, what she had really looked like was now lost in the mists of time, surviving only in the later written testimony of travellers like Pausanias, in a few small material fragments, and in several intriguing, small-scale souvenirs in marble of questionable reliability. An example of that category is the Varvakeion statue in the National Archaeological Museum here in Athens, which is a Roman copy and an approximation of how the Athena Parthenos might have looked. For me, Athena endures as a Parthenos Imaginaire, a figment of my fevered curiosity. Was she beautiful? I sense that is unlikely. Was she awesome? Sublime? My guess is she was all of these, a dazzling symbol of Athenian power, a triumph of the creative imagination and a demonstration of the collaborative nature of cultural production. 

Now if the composite nature of the ancient chryselephantine statues was the source of their eventual demise, in time it also came to fuel the various controversies surrounding the animated academic debates about polychrome sculpture that continued throughout the nineteenth century. The nineteenth century did indeed see a kind of chryselephantine revival, one of the most notable being the encouragement provided by King Leopold II of the Belgians, who donated ivory from the Congo to Belgian artists in the hope of persuading the Belgian people of the benefits of his colonial adventure in Africa.

If any single object came to embody the various debates about the mixed media of antiquity, it was surely the polychrome gilded bronze Minerva created by the French sculptor Pierre-Charles Simart for the Duc de Luynes, which was exhibited at the Exposition International in Paris in 1855. It survives today in its original location in the family château at Dampierre en Yvelines, outside Paris. On visiting the château I found myself pondering whether the Musée d’Orsay might be a better location for the Minerva where many more people would see her and learn of the archaeological research and fascinating currents of academic taste that surrounded her creation. Like the Parthenos, she was the product of diverse skills, crafts and materials – bronze, ivory, enamel, precious stones, silver and gold. But who am I to advise on where the Minerva ought to be displayed? Surely if I’m loyal to my Parthenon logic, the Minerva belongs in the place for which she was made, standing proudly in front of Ingres’ fresco L’Age D’Or,also commissioned by the Duke, and surrounded by the polychrome interior decorations of Félix Duban, a leading exponent of Beaux-Arts Néo-Grec architecture. Like the original Parthenon ensemble, the room in which the Minerva stands is a kind of Gesamtkunstwerk, a complete, total work of art in which all the individual elements are harmonically integrated into the whole. Remove one component and the magic evaporates.

So why am I rambling on about the chryselephantine statues when we’re really here to discuss the Parthenon Marbles. Well, here’s a thought experiment. Ancient testimony informs us that during the planning stages of the Parthenon building programme, Pheidias was for a time favouring constructing the statue of Athena out of marble. The demos objected, however, insisting on the use of precious materials. Had Pheidias prevailed, might we today have surviving fragments of a colossal acrolithic cult statue of Athena as we do for that of Constantine in Rome? And how might that have changed our knowledge of the temple and its purpose?        

Had such a thing survived, almost certainly Bernard Tschumi would have accommodated the ancient marble goddess as elegantly and sympathetically as he did with the surviving frieze and metopes upstairs. And here I will repeat another common criticism of the London display — the deliberate ‘inside out’ approach to their disposition. I’ll come back to this in a moment, but I think anyone who has visited this wonderful museum cannot fail to acknowledge the superior museology of the displays here in Athens.

I see this museum as unique among world museums in being an environment in which one can engage with the beauty and essential mystery of the ancient world in stunning proximity to the Parthenon itself, one of the greatest surviving monuments of the ancient world. It is not only a place to learn and dream. I see it as a kind of public studiolo, a place where the private imagination can enjoy free rein.

And here’s where I see another interesting parallel with the chryselephantine tradition. We know from the archaeological record that the Ergasterion, the workshop in which Pheidias constructed his chryselephantine Zeus at Olympia, stood alongside the site of the temple, and was orientated in such a way that its position mirrored that of the naos or cella of the temple for which the statue was destined. I meant to email Bernard Tschumi to ask whether this had been one of his reference points in deciding to position the Parthenon Galleries in relation to the temple itself — not that he needed any such pretext, for it is anyway a stroke of genius. In any event, I for one now see the orientation of the Parthenon Galleries as having an extra semantic charge, inviting me to ponder the creative practices of Pheidias and his contemporaries.

And this brings me to another point. When I was invited to speak to you this evening my first thought was: ‘What can be said about the Parthenon Marbles debate that has not been said already?” As the late great Sir Norman Palmer once quipped when getting up to speak last at a conference. ‘Everything has been said already, but not by everyone.’

I did not want to come here today to wheel out the now familiar arguments for reunification of the Parthenon Marbles. After all, I am in Athens with people far more knowledgeable about the issue than me. Over time, I have sought to focus my own contribution to the debate on the viability and sustainability of the concept of the Universal Museum, particularly as it is embodied in London. The ‘Universal’ component was eventually replaced by the notionally less controversial term, ‘Encyclopaedic Museum’, but the concept of universality has nevertheless become a fundamental tenet used by those seeking to retain the marbles in London. I don’t wish to rehearse my opposition to this concept here this evening as I vowed to try and adopt a positive outlook on this auspicious occasion. But I do want to draw attention to an aspect of the debate that is still not sufficiently explored. I refer to the continuing tendency of the British Museum to remove those specimens of the Marbles in London from their umbilical connection to the Parthenon. One former director of the museum went as far as to say, “The Elgin Marbles are no longer part of the story of the Parthenon. They are now part of another story.”

We may not understand the true meaning of the scenes enacted on the Parthenon Frieze, but we know that they are, and will remain, part of the story of the Parthenon. To suggest otherwise is akin to promulgating what recently became known as “alternative facts.” For it is arguably the very ‘story-based' nature of the Marbles that is their most notable feature. The frieze is among the earliest and most cohesive narrative projects in art history, a story of chthonic resonance to Athens and its citizenry. It is one thing to have wrenched half that story from the building itself, it is quite another to sever it altogether from its original meaning and context. Therein lies the pertinence of the concept of unification at this particular moment.

Today we are witnessing a hinge in history. A moment of potentially deep and lasting division in Europe. Countries from around the world and from all across the political spectrum have come together in unity to oppose a dangerous manifestation of fascism and a mortal threat to democracy. What is developing in Ukraine is, to borrow a phrase from Thomas Paine, “the most ridiculous and insolent of all tyrannies.”  

By now you might have guessed how I’m going to conclude this brief talk. The need for unity among nations is more urgent today than at any moment since the Second World War. Unity can be expressed as it has been of late, in diplomacy and in vocal opposition to the agents of oppression and division. Following the invasion of Ukraine unity has also manifested itself in the cultural sector, whereby international organisations whose activities normally bring the world together have elected almost unanimously to exclude Russia from major events. The Champions League Soccer Final has been moved from St Petersburg to Paris, the Russian Formula One Grand Prix has been cancelled, this year the Russia Pavilion will be excluded from the Venice Biennale and a season of performances by the Bolshoi Ballet at London’s Royal Opera House has been cancelled. And just this morning I heard that the director of the Bolshoi Ballet has resigned. And let’s not forget the Eurovision song contest, which has also decided to exclude Russia, although as a citizen of the United Kingdom I would perfectly understand if we too were banished from future Eurovisions, if only on account of the uniformly poor quality of our entries every year.

But now that we have this beautiful museum with its purpose-built Parthenon Galleries, there is surely no more appropriate moment at which to return the London specimens to Athens. What a deeply symbolic gesture it would be to unify a group of objects that until now have been a source of controversy and division. Would that gesture not resonate around the world?

Is there any prospect of that happening? Some have suggested that London could have replicas made to replace the current display. Technology now exists that would make it possible to create copies from marble that would be indistinguishable from the originals down to the minutest detail. The suggestion has already been rejected by the British Museum on the grounds that its visitors would need to wrestle with the idea of the copy rather than the authentic object. But how can we be sure that La Gioconda in the Louvre is the original Mona Lisa and not a replica exhibited in order to protect the original? It is conceivable that we are already at the beginning of an inevitable journey away from our Romantic obsession with originality and authenticity.

The Institute for Digital Archaeology, a joint project between Oxford University, Harvard University and the Museum of the Future in Dubai, a world leader in digital imaging techniques, claims to be able to produce convincing replicas of the Marbles in Pentelic marble. The Factum Arte company in Madrid, part of the Factum Foundation for Digital Technology in Conservation, are also among the leading practitioners in recreating the world’s cultural heritage through rigorous high-resolution recording and “re-materialisation” processes. Such techniques would be capable of creating replicas of the Parthenon Marbles down to the minutest degree such that the naked eye would be unable to tell the difference between the original and the copy. Now, I appreciate that the very idea of the British Museum displaying replica objects would likely be might be met with a raised eyebrow among curators. However, the two galleries adjoining the Marbles room at the British Museum already contain replicas of some Parthenon sculptures that are still in Greece. Technological replication may have the potential to resolve what often seems an unresolvable conundrum — providing each side with the “golden bridge” — an elegant face-saving compromise, but the idea is unlikely to succeed while we still cleave to the aura of the original. Meanwhile, the ethical arguments for full reunification and repatriation of all the surviving marbles to their home Athens remains the most forceful prospect for resolution. Few are aware that ethics were also at the very centre of the debate back in the 19th century.

I was looking again at the minutes of the debates in the House of Commons in 1816 which sought to answer the question of whether to purchase the Marbles from Lord Elgin and if so at what price. Some honourable members made clear their scepticism about the purchase, one person opining that “the mode in which the collection had been acquired partook of the nature of spoliation,” while another opposed the decision to buy the Marbles “on the grounds of the dishonesty of the transaction by which the collection was obtained.” Needless to say, I’m being selective here to make the point that despite the eventual decision to buy the sculptures, there was nevertheless moral and ethical opposition even then to the circumstances in which they were acquired by Lord Elgin. But another paragraph stands out. It was decided to pay Elgin £25,000 for the collection in order to — and I quote — “recover and keep it together for that government from which it has been improperly taken, and to which this committee is of the opinion that a communication would be immediately made stating that Great Britain holds these marbles only in trust till they are demanded by the present, or any future, possessors of the city of Athens, and upon such demand, engages, without question or negotiation, to restore them, as far as can be effected, to the places from whence they were taken and that they shall be in the meantime carefully preserved in the British Museum.”

Well, we know they failed on that final commitment, but we live in hope that one day the Marbles in London will be reunified with their brothers and sisters upstairs.     

Before closing I should mention that my connection to Athens was strengthened five years ago when my business partner Angelina and I founded our art provenance research agency. Angie is Greek and her family home is here in Athens. She was saddened to be unable to join us here this evening as she currently has her hands full with her lovely new baby boy. Needless to say, she is as passionate as I am about the cause of reunification. 

And it is on that note that I dedicate this talk to the women in Ukraine. I’m sure you all join with me in standing in support of their struggle for freedom and peace. They will prevail.  

Finally I have our beloved Mary Beard to thank for an amusing anecdote on which to end. In the frontispiece of her excellent book on the Parthenon she quotes from a moment when the American baseball star Shaquelle O’Neal visited Athens. On arriving home he was asked by a reporter:

“Did you visit the Parthenon during your time in Athens?” To which he replied,

“I don’t remember all the clubs we went to.”

So let me close by thanking you all for inviting me back to the most beautiful club in the world.

Efcharistó.

 Photo credit: Iason Athanasiadis                                                                                                               

It was a great honour and a wonderful experience to be asked by the New York Times to photograph the Parthenon. My image making process requires large boxes which I use as pinhole cameras. Each is outfitted with a single sheet of photographic paper, which, if all goes as planned, will yield one negative unique image. My effort is great, the images few. Because of my particular way of working and the enormous August heat in Athens, my days started early and went late. I received permission to arrive on the Acropolis before sunrise which meant my team and I, equipment shouldered, climbed the steep marble steps in pitch black night with Athens sleeping quietly to our feet. The tender warmth from the prior day still emitting from the old stones paired with the gentle order of cypress and pines. Wrapped in silence and warm scented air I arrived at the top facing the majestic Parthenon Temple. The ancient stones radiating silent authority will remain forever a lasting experience. Unforgettable to be there practically alone.

Just after sunrise, the security guards for the day had not yet arrived, a small unit of the Greek military marched in every morning. About 10 soldiers walking in a single file, the first carrying a folded Greek flag. As the sun rose over the horizon so did the flag on the eastern most side of the Acropolis, flag to sun. Once up the soldiers stood attention and sang the Greek anthem. We instinctively held still and watched in silence and respect. Not speaking Greek, I could not understand the words, but the ceremony was deeply moving regardless. Even my left leaning, liberally thinking Greek helper, held still watching his chest filled with pride. At sunset the same ritual repeated itself, no singing here, the flag once lowered, was taken off and folded to be carried away.

My team and I often spoke of the Greek Marbles removed from the Parthenon and from Greece. We felt deprived of a wholesome experience not being able to see at once, on the same day, all that survived millennia, all that so authentically belongs to this magnificent place where the heart of ancient and modern Greece lies.

 Vera Lutter

veralutter.net

Temple of Athena, Acropolis: August 25, 2021, courtesy Vera Lutter

Martin Bailey wrote in The Art Newspaper on Wednesday, 10 May 2023, revealing declassified UK government documents showed the Foreign Office had been dismissive of the British Museum’s lobbying to retain the Parthenon Marbles in 1983. The year when a formal claim was first lodged, after Greece's then Greek culture minister, Melina Mercouri visited London and the British Museum. 

'The Foreign Office recorded that Mercouri argued that the Marbles “are an integral part of a monument that represents the national spirit of Greece”. Wilson responded that they are part of a museum which is a unique international institution that “should not be dismembered”. But the officials concluded that Mercouri “won the argument hands down”.'

Fast forward four decades, and the argument for the reunification of the Parthenon Marbles is as compeling today as it has been since the 19th century, and the first request made by Greece after gaining independence. 

Janet Suzman, BCRPM's Chair often speaks of what Melina was like when she first met her in London. "Melina was electric, she swept through Britain in the 80's and captured the hearts and minds of all those that understood the injustice of the removal of these sculptures, their sale to the government by Lord Elgin in 1816, plus their continued display in the British Museum as art pieces, not as a collection of peerless sculptures that will always be intrinsically connected to the Parthenon. A building, which after two and half millennia of history, wars and occupations, still stands proud on the Sacred Hill.

"We could be informed how exactly these stone figures came to be here in this cold gallery in London" suggests Janet Suzman. "Since no proof from the Ottoman Sultanate has yet been found permitting them to be taken from Greece, we could, at the very least, be told that fact. Otherwise we must assume the British Museum has a very tenuous hold on reality when it claims they were legitimately acquired."

"The BCRPM wants to see visitors to the British Museum enlightened, either by a leaflet made available in the Greek galleries, or cogent signage on the plinths themselves, with full information about their acquisition."

"The modern Hellenic Republic, free of the yoke of the Ottomans, desperately wants its cultural heritage - these perticular Parthenon scuptures - returned. For over two hundred years it has wanted them returned. The public deserves to know why; Lord Elgin chopped them off the Parthenon and stole them, silently and clandestinely, and they ought to be back in their own place, where the sun shines." Concludes Janet Suzman.

'In the name of fairness and morality' said Melina in 1986 'please give them back. Such a gesture from Great Britain would ever honour your name'.

Our recent trip to Athens after a 10 year hiatus, highlighted the favourable and unfavourable changes in this capital city. I travelled with my husband and daughter, and the main aim was to refresh our memories of the cultural magnificence we (as British born Greeks), take for granted.

Having worked in travel for 27 years, I have been lucky enough to travel to many parts of the world both near and far, and both positive and negative changes are inevitable, as was the case on this occasion, when visiting Athens.

The central areas of Athens known as Syntagma Square, Monastiraki and Plaka, somehow did not compare to previous years as I remember them, where the hustle and bustle was leisurely, and probably more traditionally Greek. This area of the city is busy with traditional buildings, luxury hotels, bars, restaurants, shops and crowds filling this space. Time doesn't stand still and Athens has expanded, its population now over 3 million. This central area in my view looked tired, and in need of revival. Perhaps, this was partly caused by the economic crisis of the last 10 years and more recently, Covid 19 and its aftermath.

I was keen for my daughter to experience the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, just off Syntagma Square, below the Hellenic Parliament; and also to visit the Acropolis and of course the main star attraction, the Parthenon.

Once we reached the top of  the Acropolis, Athens' iconic tourist attraction, we watched the Greek flag gently blowing in the wind against a blue cloudless sky, and soaked up the many years of ancient history. I was consumed by a sense of pride and honour of my Greek heritage.

Even in November, the citadel was buzzing with tourists from different parts of the world. The evening view of the Acropolis from Monastiraki was captivating in that one picture was just simply not enough!

We then made our way down to the newly built Acropolis Museum which focuses on the findings of the archaeological site of the Acropolis. The museum houses every artifact found on the rock and surrounding slopes dating back from the Greek Bronze age to Roman and Byzantine Greece. A plethora of artifacts with a wealth of information feeding the curious mind.

This modern museum, officially opened in June 2019, houses the original marble sculptures of the Parthenon, exhibited in the same way as they would have been on the monument. Sadly, it is obvious to also see, the missing sculptures, those so many refer to as the 'Elgin marbles', removed by Lord Elgin when Greece had no voice.

Lord Elgin was forced to sell what he had removed, to the British government in 1816, and in turn the government placed these treasures in trust with the British Museum.

The sculptures that are still in the British Museum's Room 18, have been replaced in the Acropolis Museum's Parthenon Gallery by contrasting, stark white plaster copies, further emphasising their harsh removal.

The importance of this collection of sculptures and why the calls for their return grows louder, and louder, is that these marbles deserve to be returned to their birthplace. They deserve to be housed in this amazing museum, to join their surviving halves, with direct views to the Parthenon. This would be the ultimate gesture of respect by the UK to Greece. The Parthenon Marbles were, and will always be referenced by the Parthenon, the jewel in the crown that is the Acropolis.

Athens will always hold a special place in my heart, and after this latest trip, in the hearts of my family too. Our short visit allowed us to re-engage with our Greek heritage but above all, enrich our minds with the profound cultural wealth present in this amazing ancient capital city.

We're looking forward to visiting again, this time, not leaving it so long.

Zoe Hawa