On April 19, 2024, mournful Greece will commemorate the bicentennial of the death of her dazzling adopted son, George Gordon, 6th Baron Byron (1788-1824), whose personal involvement in the Greek War of Independence (1821-1829) turned European attention to the plight of Greece under Ottoman Turkish rule and resulted in the establishment of an independent Greek state for the first time since the Turkish conquest of 1453. Lord Byron died at the age of 36 of malaria complications in Missolonghi, in the land whose captive beauty he mourned in Canto II of his immensely popular “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage” (1812-1818), which made the author a European celebrity overnight. Byron’s fame extended worldwide in the 19th century, with several cities in the US named after him, including in Iowa and Illinois.

Byron’s literary alter ego, Childe Harold, sets forth on a secular pilgrimage Byron himself undertook in 1809 at the time of Napoleonic wars. In Canto I, the hero travels through the southern periphery of Europe, Portugal, and Spain, and laments the fate of Spain fighting for its independence from Napoleon at the height of the Peninsula War. In Canto II, Byron heads to Greece and writes of his first encounter with the land of Plato, Aristotle, Sophocles, Aristophanes, and Pheidias. Educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, Byron was well versed in Greek literature and philosophy, and it pained him to see this famed land languishing under Ottoman Turkish occupation. In Canto III of his massive 16,000-line epic poem “Don Juan” (1819-1824), Byron laments Greece’s lost glory:

“The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!

Where burning Sappho loved and sang,

Where grew the arts of war and peace,

Where Delos rose, and Phœbus sprung!

Eternal summer gilds them yet,

But all, except their sun, is set.”

After visiting Athens, Byron became a champion of the cause of the Elgin Marbles which remains unresolved today, with Greek and British prime ministers trading harsh words over their fate earlier this year. Removed from Athens by Lord Elgin between 1801 and 1812, half of the surviving Parthenon Marbles remain in the British Museum, a move Byron savaged in his 1811 poem “The Curse of Minerva.”

Last summer, I retraced Byron’s 1809 Greek and Albanian travels and visited the old Turkish fortress in Janina, which is today in northern Greece. Here Byron met Ali Pasha, the ruler of greater Albania, who invited the young poet to his palace in Tepelene, now in central Albania. I explored the ruins of this Albanian fortress as well and stood on the spot where Byron started composing “Childe Harold” − the edge of a cliff over a swift mountain steam rushing towards the horizon in the far distance. Sublime does not begin to describe the location that birthed the Byronic character, forever associated with his creator.

The alienated, cynical, brooding, and dejected hero he created and which to this day bears his name, Byronic, inspired countless literary characters from Rochester (“Jane Eyre”) and Heathcliff (“Wuthering Heights”) to Julien Sorel (“The Red and the Black”) and Edmond Dantès (“The Count of Monte Cristo”). In Alexander Pushkin’s 1825-1832 novel in verse “Eugene Onegin,” the main character, who is described as a “Moscovite in Harold's cloak,” is an avid reader of “Childe Harold” and tries to emulate the Byronic ideal in every possible way, to the bewilderment of his friends and foes. Needless to say, Pushkin wrote the novel under the watchful gaze of a Byron portrait above his desk - and a statue of Napoleon on the mantelpiece - the two quintessential sources of poetic inspiration of the 19th century!

Emerging out of the initial thrill of the French Revolution of 1789 and the eventual disillusionment with the direction of the revolutionary project and the meteoric rise and fall of Napoleon Bonaparte, the Byronic hero captured the Zeitgeist of the age and spoke to the alienation of an entire generation of European young men who became weary of unhindered idealism which invariably devolved into fratricidal slaughter. Anguished and cynical, the Byronic hero resurfaced in the 20th century in the characters portrayed by actors such as Marlon Brando, James Dean, and Heath Ledger, and still haunts the cinematic universes of Star Wars, James Bond, Indiana Jones, Twilight, and, of course, Batman.

“Childe Harold” catapulted Byron to international fame - and many shorter poetic works (The Giaour, The Bride of Abydos, The Corsair) were created at the peak of his literary stardom. As a hereditary member of the House of Lords, Byron delivered two notable speeches in Parliament, but his scandalous bisexual escapades did raise a few eyebrows in England - and he left for continental Europe once again in 1816 - never to return.

After visiting the battlefield of Waterloo (more in my May column), Byron traveled along the Rhine to Switzerland − where he hosted Percy Shelley and Mary Shelley - at the time when Mary was writing yet another masterpiece of the Romantic age, “Frankenstein.” Byron spent several years in Italy, whose fate he glorified and lamented in Canto IV of “Childe Harold.” And in 1823 he embarked from Genoa on his second and final trip to Greece. He offered the Greek independence cause financial assistance and trained troops who were fighting for their homeland in the aftermath of the Declaration of Independence proclaimed in 1821 on March 25 − still celebrated today as Greek Independence Day.

In 1824 Byron wrote: “I gave [Greece] my time, my health, my property, and now I give my life. What could I do more?”

After Byron’s death, the fate of ravished Greece was captured in all its agony by Eugène Delacroix in his 1826 painting “Greece on the Ruins of Missolonghi” and in his “Faust,” Johann von Goethe dedicated to Byron the tragic character of Euphorion, a youth who, like Icarus, flew too close to the sun and crashed to his death. Byron’s death stunned Europe; England, France and Russia, enemies from the Napoleonic wars, united their efforts in support of Greek independence - which was finally recognized in July of 1832 at the Treaty of Constantinople. Greece was the first Ottoman Empire subject to receive full independence and international recognition.

A poem from Byron

On Jan. 22, 1824, three months before his death, Byron wrote a poem that included the following lines:

“Awake (not Greece—she is awake!)

       Awake, my Spirit! Think through whom

Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake

                                    And then strike home!

...

Seek out—less often sought than found—

       A Soldier's Grave, for thee the best;

Then look around, and choose thy Ground,

                                    And take thy rest.”

RIP, Greece’s Euphorion, the inimitable champion of freedom, Lord Byron…

Anna Barker received her Ph. D. in Comparative Literature in 2002 with a dissertation in translation studies. At the University of Iowa she has taught courses in the English Department, in Comparative Literature, in Russian Literature, and in the Honours Programme.

This article was first published in the Iowa City Press Citizen, on 05 April 2024. 

A Modern Caryatid Pleads for her “Sister’s” Return

Walking down Euston Road on my way to the tube, I see the familiar sight of the St. Pancras Church caryatids looking down on me. These elegant, sculpted figures replace normal columns, supporting the building of which they are part. No one else seems to notice them or pay them much attention, but I stop to admire them, six ancient Greek women, standing tall, overlooking the London traffic; I feel proud looking up at them.

I know these girls well not only from the Acropolis, but from my own small village in Laconia, Karyai (Karyes), from where these maidens are said to come. The 2nd century AD travel writer Pausanias describes how they would have performed dances for Artemis of the Walnut-trees in her open air temple. There’s a replica of the caryatids in my village as well, which I remember climbing and clambering over since I was young. Standing at the top of a cliff overlooking the village’s entrance, our monument stands guard over the village of Karyai and establishes the caryatid’s Lakonian roots, which no one can claim from them.

To contrast this, in the Acropolis Museum, five of the originals from the Athenian Acropolis are joined by an empty space – an empty space waiting for the sixth caryatid, stolen by Lord Elgin in 1802, and today in the British Museum, to join her Athenian sisters.

As a PhD student in Classics (Classical Art and Archaeology) at the University of Cambridge, I place emphasis on the importance of unification. This is where the crux of the issue lies: the sculptures taken from the Athenian Acropolis are integral parts of monuments and Greece is their home. From the moment in which there is an ideal locale for their display, and here I refer to the New Acropolis Museum (built in 2009), whose galleries will enhance their impact and appreciation due to their visual and physical proximity to the Acropolis, there is no excuse for them not to be returned, to be appreciated as close as possible to their original context. The impact of a full Parthenon frieze and pediments would be nothing short of magnificent, giving for the first time in over 200 years a sense of the monument’s true grandeur.

The compromise to display treasures which have never before left Greece’s shores in the British Museum is more than fair, and in fact could be used as an opportunity to discuss also the impact of these objects on British antiquarians and intellectuals. Neo-classicism was a current so strong it prompted men like Lord Byron to die for a country that was not theirs by blood (although it certainly was by love, hence the term Philhellene) and this is something for which we Greeks are eternally grateful, as our bi-centennial celebrations this year demonstrated. I believe the display of other treasures would highlight this special 200-year relationship between Greece and the U.K. in a more equal and egalitarian way than stubbornly holding on to the Sculptures as if they are the singular prize. That would be true Philhellenism, of which Lord Byron himself would be proud.

The British Museum has the power to make the moral choice, the just choice, in the current negotiations. As an institution which is dedicated to preserving human history through its art and culture, I have no doubt the Museum and its Trustees will have also taken the time to understand history’s lessons. In this way, the six caryatids could finally be together again.

N.b. The caryatid in the British Museum, although an ‘Elgin’ marble, is not, in stricto sensu, one of the Parthenon sculptures.It is also not included in Greece's request for the reunification of the Parthenon Sculptures, currently displayed in the British Museum's Room 18.

Daphne D. Martin is PhD Candidate, Faculty of Classics, University of Cambridge

This article was also published in Ta Nea on 24 January 2022.

How the Much-Debated Elgin Marbles Ended Up in England
The author of a new book, Bruce Clarkand his latest article published 11 January 2022, in the Smithsonian Magazine.

When Thomas Bruce, Seventh Earl of Elgin, arrived in the city he knew as Constantinople—today’s Istanbul—in November 1799, he had every reason to hope that his mission as Britain’s ambassador to the Ottoman sultan would be a spectacular success.

A year earlier, Napoleon had invadedOttoman Egypt, and Britain hoped to become the sultan’s main ally in reversing the French conquest. The dispatch from London of a well-connected diplomat descended from the kings of Scotland was itself a gesture of friendship toward the Turks. Then 33 years old, Elgin was an experienced statesman who had previously served as a British envoy in Brussels and Berlin.

As well as competing in geopolitics, the British were vying with the French for access to whatever remained of the great civilizations of antiquity. On this front, too, Elgin was confident of faring well. His marriage in March 1799 to a wealthy heiress, Mary Nisbet, had given him the financial means to sponsor ambitious cultural projects. While traveling through Europe en route to Constantinople, he recruited a team of mostly Italian artists led by the Neapolitan painter Giovanni-Battista Lusieri. Their initial task was to draw, document and mold antiquities in the Ottoman-controlled territory of Greece, thus preserving these ancient treasures on paper and canvas, in part for the edification of Elgin’s countrymen, most of whom would never otherwise see Athens’ statues, temples and friezes.

From the start, though, the artists’ mandate was shrouded in careful ambivalence. Elgin declaredthat simply capturing images of the treasures would be “beneficial to the progress of the fine arts” in his home country. But in more private moments, he didn’t conceal his determination to decorate his home in Scotland with artifacts extracted from Greece. “This … offers me the means of placing, in a useful, distinguished and agreeable way, the various things that you may perhaps be able to procure for me,” he wrote to Lusieri.

The initially cloudy mission of Elgin’s artistic team culminated in a massive campaign to dismantle artworks from the temples on the Acropolis and transport them to Britain. Elgin’s haul—representing more than half of the surviving sculptures on the Athenian citadel—included most of the art adorning the Parthenon, the greatest of the Acropolis temples, and one of the six robed maidens, or caryatids, that adorned the smaller Erechtheion temple. Large sections of the Parthenon frieze, an extraordinary series of relief sculptures depicting a mysterious procession of chariots, animals and people, numbered among the loot.

Among critics, the removal of the so-called Elgin Marbles has long been described as an egregious act of imperial plunder. Greeks find it especially galling that Elgin negotiated the removal of such treasures with the Ottoman Empire, a foreign power that cared little for Hellenic heritage. Calls to return the sculptures to Athens began in Elgin’s own day and continue now: While in London in November 2021, Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis stated plainly that Elgin “stole” the ancient artworks. (The British Museum, for its part, has always insisted that its mandate of displaying its collections for the purpose of public education does not allow it to simply give objects away.)

Does Elgin deserve his terrible reputation? He certainly derived little personal happiness from his antiquarian acquisitions. While making his way back to Britain in 1803, he was detained in France by the government. He returned to his native shores three years later, in 1806, only to find that many of the artifacts he had collected were still stuck in Greece. Getting them to England would take six more years: Beginning in 1807, the earl was involved in acrimonious divorce proceedings that left his finances in ruins, and he had to implore the state to buy the objects whose extraction he had financed. In the end, the government acquired the trove for £35,000—less than half of what Elgin claimed to have spent employing Lusieri and his team, arranging sea transport, and bribing Ottoman officials. He was denounced as a vandal in sonorous verses by the poet Lord Byron, a fellow member of the Anglo-Scottish aristocracy, and the broader British public alike. If Elgin deserved punishment, he got a good deal of it in his own lifetime. But in the eyes of posterity, he has fared still worse.

In blurring the line between documenting the antiquities of Greece and taking them away, Elgin was following a template created two decades earlier by the French. A promising French artist, Louis-Francois-Sebastian Fauvel, received an assignment in 1784 from his country’s ambassador to the Ottoman sultan to make exact drawings and casts of Greek antiquities. By 1788, the French envoy was urging his young protégé, then at work on the Acropolis, to go much further than drawing or molding: “Remove all that you can, do not neglect any means, my dear Fauvel, of plundering in Athens and its territory all that is to be plundered.” After his diplomatic boss fell out of grace amid the French Revolution, Fauvel became an antiquarian and energetic looter in his own right. When Elgin took up his post in Istanbul in 1799, he and his compatriots saw it as their patriotic duty to outdo the French in this race to grab history.

Also of note is the fact that Elgin was often surrounded by people whose zeal for the removal of Greek antiquities outpaced his own. These individuals included his ultra-wealthy parents-in-law, whose money ultimately made the operation possible, and the shrewd English clergyman Philip Hunt, who worked as Elgin’s personal assistant. When he learned of his appointment to Elgin’s staff, Hunt explained to his father that the job seemed a “brilliant opportunity of improving my mind and laying the foundation of a splendid fortune.”

In spring 1801, Hunt went to Athens to assess the progress being made by Lusieri and his artistic team. He realized that simply gaining access to the Acropolis, which also served as the Ottoman garrison, would require a burdensome series of presents and bribes to local officials. The only solution, he concluded, was to secure an all-purpose permit from some high-ranking person in the entourage of the sultan. By early July, Hunt had induced the deputy to the grand vizier to issue a paper that would allow Elgin’s team to work unimpeded on the Acropolis: to draw, excavate, erect scaffolding and “take away some pieces of stone with old figures or inscriptions,” as the permit put it.

Over the following month, the situation devolved rapidly. With Napoleon apparently on the verge of invading Greece, Hunt was sent back to Athens on a fresh mission: to reassure Ottoman officials of British support and ward off any temptation to collaborate with the French. Seeing how highly the Ottomans valued their alliance with the British, Hunt spotted an opportunity for a further, decisive extension of the Acropolis project. With a nod from the sultan’s representative in Athens—who at the time would have been scared to deny a Briton anything—Hunt set about removing the sculptures that still adorned the upper reaches of the Parthenon. This went much further than anyone had imagined possible a few weeks earlier. On July 31, the first of the high-standing sculptures was hauled down, inaugurating a program of systematic stripping, with scores of locals working under Lusieri’s enthusiastic supervision.

Whatever the roles of Hunt and Lusieri, Elgin himself cannot escape ultimate responsibility for the dismantling of the Acropolis. Hunt at one point suggested removing all six of the caryatid maidens if a ship could be found to take them away; Elgin duly tried find a vessel, but none were available.

Still, once back in England, Elgin adamantly claimed that he had merely been securing the survival of precious objects that would otherwise have disappeared. In evidence provided to a parliamentary committee, he insisted that “in amassing these remains of antiquity for the benefit of my country, and in rescuing them from imminent and unavoidable destruction with which they were threatened, … I have been actuated by no motives of private emolument.” Betraying the bigotries of the day, Elgin argued that if the sculptures had remained in Athens, they would have been “the prey of mischievous Turks who mutilated [them] for wanton amusement, or for the purpose of selling them to piecemeal to occasional travelers.” He outlined examples of numerous important Greek monuments that had disappeared or been damaged during the previous half-century. In offering these justifications, he was trying to persuade the committee that he had enlarged the scope of his antiquarian project—from merely drawing or molding ancient sculptures to taking them away—only when it became clear to him that the unique treasures were in danger.

There are plenty of reasons to be skeptical of these claims. Upon his arrival in Istanbul, the earl had declared an interest in decorating his own house with ancient treasures. But even if Elgin’s argument was dishonest, his point about the likely fate of the artifacts, given the geopolitical situation at the dawn of the 19th century, is a serious one. We can assess its merit in light of what actually happened to the sculptures that stayed on the Acropolis (because Elgin’s people didn’t quite manage to remove them all) versus those that were shipped to England.

Contrary to Elgin’s stated fears, the sculptures that remained in Athens did not vanish. After 1833, when the Ottomans left the Acropolis and handed it to the new nation of Greece, the great citadel and its monuments became a focus of national pride. Protecting, restoring and showcasing the legacy of the Athenian golden age has been the highest priority for every Greek government since then.

 Of course, the monuments and artifacts of the Holy Rock, as Greeks call it, have not entirely escaped damage. Scorch marks from a fire during the 1820s Greek War of Independence, during which the Acropolis changed hands several times, remain visible today. In recent years, the contours of some sculptures have been worn away by air pollution—a problem that was particularly acute in the 1980s. But Elgin’s people also caused damage, both to the sculptures they removed and to the underlying structure of the Parthenon. (“I have been obliged to be a little barbarous,” Lusieri once wrote to Elgin.) Then there were the marbles that sankon one of Elgin’s ships in 1802 and were only salvaged three years later. Even after they arrived at the British Museum, the sculptures received imperfect care. In 1938, for example, they were “cleaned” with an acid solution.

With the benefit of two centuries of hindsight, Elgin’s claim that his removal of treasures from the Acropolis was a noble act, in either its intention or its result, is dubious at best. Still, the earl’s professed concern for the preservation of the glories of ancient Athens raises an interesting line of thought. Suppose that among his mixture of motives—personal aggrandizement, rivalry with the French and so on—the welfare of the sculptures actually had been Elgin’s primary concern. How could that purpose best be served today? Perhaps by placing the Acropolis sculptures in a place where they would be extremely safe, extremely well conserved and superbly displayed for the enjoyment of all? The Acropolis Museum, which opened in 2009 at the foot of the Parthenon, is an ideal candidate; it was built with the goal of eventually housing all of the surviving elements of the Parthenon frieze.

Of the original 524-foot-long frieze, about half is now in London, while another third is in Athens. Much smaller fragments are scattered elsewhere around the globe. The Acropolis Museum’s magnificent glass gallery, bathed in Greek sunlight and offering a clear view of the Parthenon, would be a perfect place to reintegrate the frieze and allow visitors to ponder its meaning. After all, British scholars and cultural figures who advocate for the sculptures’ return to Athens are careful to frame their arguments in terms of “reunifying” a single work of art that should never have been broken up.

That, surely, is a vision that all manner of people can reasonably embrace, regardless of whether they see Elgin as a robber or give him some credit as a preservationist. If the earl really cared about the marbles, and if he were with us today, he would want to see them in Athens now.

Bruce Clark wrote this article for the Smithsonian Magazine and it was published online on 11 Janyary 2022.

The Times, 04 December 2021

The Parthenon Gallery in the Acropolis Musem, Athens, Greece.

 George Osborne wrote a Comment piece on page 29 of the Times on Saturday, it was entitled: "It's right to be proud of the British Museum". 

He goes on to ask: "Should we be ashamed of Britain’s past or should we celebrate it?"

He adds: " humans are capable of acts of great kindness and appalling brutality towards one another. The artefacts in the British Museum, with their depictions of love and war, reflect that truth over the course of two million years. It is why they help us understand ourselves better. That was the founding purpose when it was established as the first national public museum of the world in 1753, and it remains the purpose today. It was a product less of the British Empire (which was largely created in the following century) and more of the European Enlightenment."

And he does conceed that much has changed in the last 260 years, praising the 'magnificent Norman Foster roof over the Great Court at the Millennium', which he feels helps the British Museum to confidently call itself “the museum of the world, for the world”.

Although he insists that the British Museum is also 'just a museum', and that it cannot resolve the contractions between the Enlightenment as a western construct and universal human rights, or support those that question the very existence of the British Museum.

"Of course, there are those who demand the return of objects they believe we have no right to hold. That is not new either. Lord Byron thought the Elgin marbles should be back at the Parthenon. Our response is not to be dismissive. We are open to lending our artefacts to anywhere and to who can take good care of them and ensure their safe return — which we do every year, including to Greece."

Sadly he suggests that museums of culture ought not shrink in the face of  'culture wars' - why wars and not cultural cooperation? And that the British Museum needs to tell the story of common humanity. Surely common humanity needs to uphold respect for all countries cultural heritage! 

To read the full article, follow the link to The Times.

UK Ambassador to Greece Matthew Lodge tweeted the link to George Osborne's article in the Times and John Tasioulas, Director, Institute for Ethics in AI, Faculty of Philosophy, University of Oxford and a member of BCRPM, quoted Ambassador Lodge's tweet:

TA NEA, Monday 06 December 2021

Yannis Andritsopulos, UK Correspondent for Ta Nea writes:

Suzman and Cartledge respond to Osborne

Reactions to the statements made by the new Chair of the British Museum on the reunification of the “Elgin Marbles” and their "loan" to Athens

The new Chair of the British Museum, George Osborne, was provocative and uncompromising on the question of the reunification of the Parthenon Sculptures.

A week after the 'Ta Nea' reported that in a conversation former British Minister, Dennis McShane had with George Osborne, the new Chair of the British Museum rejected any talk of a permanent return of the Sculptures, speaking with "contempt" on the subject. Osborne "struck out once more" on Saturday: in an article in  "The Times" where he calls the Parthenon Sculptures "Elgin Marbles" and suggests that Greece discuss the possibility of borrowing them on the condition that Greece could "take good care of them and ensure their return" to London!"

It should be noted that the term "Elgin Marbles" has been officially abandoned by the British Museum for many years. The Museum now uses the name "Parthenon Sculptures", both in the signage of the hall that houses them (closed for a whole year after a water leak from the roof) and on its website.

"Surely there are those who question our right to exist. They did it in 1753, they do it again in 2021. Of course there are those who demand the return of items that they believe we have no right to possess. This is nothing new either. Lord Byron believed that the Elgin Marbles should return to the Parthenon," George  Osborne wrote in the Times.

And attempting to appear "magnanimous," he adds: "Our response will not be dismissive. We are open to lending items in our collection to anyone who can take good care of them and ensures their safe return - something we do every year, including with Greece," he says, ostentatiously ignoring the request for permanent reunification of the sculptures.

In response to Osborne, the Chair of the British Committee for the Reunification of the Sculptures (BCRPM), Janet Suzmantells 'Ta Nea': "I will remind him that Lord Byron's reputation remains heroic, while that of Lord Elgin is ragged. He cannot present the error as correct in pretending that the return of the Sculptures is a trivial matter. Greece must take them back and place them where they belong: opposite the brightest building in the world from where they were snatched."

Speaking to 'Ta Nea', Cambridge Professor Paul Cartledge, Vice-Chair of the BCRPM noted: "An old joke says: Why is the museum called British, since very few of the 8 miilion objects held by the BM are actually British-made'. Are the exhibits actually British? Is the name, British Imperial War Museum more accurate? The time has come for the Sculptures to return permanently to their home."

This is not the first time that Britain has proposed to lend Greece the Parthenon Sculptures. In the exclusive interview with 'Ta Nea' in January 2019, the director of the British Museum, Hartwig Fischer, said that Greece could borrow the "Marbles" for a limited period of time ("there are no indefinite loans", he explained at that time), but if Greece accepts that they belong to the Britain ("we lend to those who recognize the ownershiop as belonging to the British Museum ").

Almost 15 years earlier, in April 2007, his predecessor Neil McGregor said that lending the "Marbles" "for three months, six months" would be possible if Greece recognized the British Museum as the legal owner.

Essentially, what they are asking of Greece is to give up its claim to the Sculptures, "renouncing" its long-standing position (recently reiterated by Kyriakos Mitsotakis and Lina Mendoni) that they are stolen.

The British Government is demanding the same. In August 2018, in a letter from Culture Minister Jeremy Wright to his Greek counterpart Myrsini Zorba, published by 'Ta Nea', the British minister made it clear that "the museum's commissioners will consider any request for lending and, subsequently, returning any part of the collection, provided that the institution requesting the loan recognises the British Museum as the owner".

As is well known, Greece cannot accept Britain's ownership of the Sculptures, and will not agree to a loan as long as this condition is set.

Osborne was elected Chair of the Museum in the summer and assumed the post in October. After his ministerial tenure (2010-2016) he assumed the duties of director of the newspaper "Evening Standard" and advisor to the capital management giant BlackRock and investment bank Robey Warshaw.

In his article titled "It is right to be proud of the British Museum", he writes that "we do not feel ashamed of the exhibits in our collection" (some of which were controversially acquired during the colonial period and claimed as stolen by various states), since, as he also states, "we remain one of the few places on Earth where you can admire under one roof, the great civilizations of the world."

To read the Ta Nea article online follow the link here. 

As Greece counts 200 years since the beginning of its war of independence in 1821, we can all celebrate the spirit of defiance against tyranny and a dedication to freedom, democracy and human rights. The Iliad-literate prime minister, Boris Johnson, has called Greece’s unique brand of meritocratic indignation the “hallmark of Greek genius”. But what made the Greek Revolution truly exceptional was that from the outset, it was never a matter for the Greeks alone.

The pan-European solidarity expressed at the time of the revolution marked the birth of a strong current of philhellenism that endures to this day. Few embody this better than Lord Byron, whose love letters to Greece paid stunning tribute to the place “where grew the arts of war and peace”. With words that speak down the ages, it is little wonder that he continues to be honoured in Greece, including today on Lord Byron Day.

The Prince of Walesrecently said that without Greece our laws, art and way of life would never have flourished. But without Britain, they would not have survived the test of time. I couldn’t agree more. From the Greek struggle for independence to the two world wars and recent Greek history, the relations between the United Kingdom and Greece are not simply ties between nation states but between people with a shared commitment to freedom, equality, democracy and respect for human dignity. My own personal ties to the UK date back to my student days at the London School of Economics and I have been an enthusiastic Anglophile ever since.

I am also a firm believer in keeping alive our common cultural heritage and educating the generations to come. This year the Benaki Museum in Athens has organised the most comprehensive exhibition of Modern Greek history ever seen. Among a thousand objects sits a portrait of Lord Byron by Thomas Phillips, on loan from the National Portrait Gallery in London. The loan of cultural objects is an important gesture from one country to another but this is also an opportunity to educate the public about the enduring bond between our two countries and to give Lord Byron his rightful place in the Greek story.

Cultural heritage teaches us where we come from, where we have been and helps us understand who we are today. Modern Greece has Lord Byron to thank for this. I also have no doubt this is why Lord Byron informed his mother from Prevesa that he would be returning to Athens, later prolonging his Hellenic journey indefinitely. Here was an English peer with an undeniable thirst to consume Greece in its entirety, from the ancient walls of the Parthenon to the modern Greek we speak today. If he believed that understanding Greece’s cultural heritage held the keys to modern society’s own existence, he would not have been the only one.

As the European Commission’s vice-president for promoting the European way of life, I can relate to Lord Byron’s commitment to the preservation and promotion of cultural heritage (unfortunately not to his poetic genius). It is why I will also be visiting the Benaki Museum’s exhibition at every chance I get, to see the portrait of Lord Byron and the many other pieces on loan from private collections and important museums across Europe.

The bicentenary of Lord Byron’s death at Missolonghi will fall on April 19 2024. What better a time for the United Kingdom and Greece to honour the friendship between the two nations and their people than by marking it with further cultural exchanges befitting of his memory. In these difficult times, cultural heritage should uplift humanity, not divide it.

Margaritis Schinas is vice-president of the European Commission, this article was first published in The Times

Boris Johnson has long hailed Pericles as his political hero. How does the British Prime Minister compare to the ancient Athenian statesman?

For Professor Paul Cartledge, it’s straightforward: “Johnson and Pericles? No comparison. Johnson v Pericles? No contest,” he says.

The Cambridge classicist has spent more than 50 years studying the history and civilization of ancient Greece. An eminent Hellenist, a prolific writer (he has written, edited or co-edited more than 30 books) and a long-standing philhellene (he has been visiting Greece since 1970 and he is a staunch supporter of the Parthenon Marbles’ reunification), Cartledge will on Monday be named Commander of the Order of Honour (Ταξιάρχης τοῦ Τάγματος τῆς Τιμῆς). It is one of the highest honours that the Greek state awards. The decision to bestow the title on Cartledge for his “contribution to enhancing Greece’s stature abroad” was taken by Greek President Katerina Sakellaropoulou.

Cartledge has contributed to several television and radio programmes and publications on issues related to ancient Greece.

The renowned academic is author of popular history books such as The Spartans: An Epic History, Thermopylae: The Battle that Changed the World, The Greeks: A Portrait of Self and Others, Alexander the Great: The Hunt for a New Past and Democracy: A Life. His latest book is Thebes: The forgotten city of Ancient Greece (Picador, 2020). In 1998 he was the joint winner of the Criticos (now London Hellenic) Prize for The Cambridge Illustrated History of Ancient Greece.

Cartledge, 74, is A.G. Leventis Professor of Greek Culture emeritus at the University of Cambridge, A.G. Leventis Senior Research Fellow at Clare College, University of Cambridge, and Member of the European Advisory Board of Princeton University Press.

He is Vice-Chair of the British Committee for the Reunification of the Parthenon Marbles (BCRPM) and elected Vice-President of the International Association for the Reunification of the Parthenon Sculptures (IARPS). He is also President of The Hellenic Society, Chair of the London Hellenic Prize, member of the International Honorary Committee of the Thermopylae-Salamis 2500 Anniversary framework and Honorary Citizen of Sparta.

In an interview with Greek daily newspaper Ta Nea, Professor Paul Cartledge spoke about his relationship with Greece, ancient history (including its connection and relevance to our times), democracy (ancient and modern) and the Parthenon Marbles.

Q: Greek President Katerina Sakellaropoulou has named you Commander of the Order of Honour in recognition of your contribution in enhancing Greece's stature abroad. What does it mean to you to receive this award?

A: It means the world to me, since it's a public and visible confirmation that somehow both my academic research (and publications) and my attempted media interventions on cultural and other issues affecting modern as well as ancient Greece have been to a satisfactory degree successful. I see myself, perhaps rather grandiosely, as a 'public intellectual', and since around 1990 I have both tried to publish work that, though academically based and scrupulously researched, is also 'accessible' to a wider public than just my specialist university colleagues and students, and to intervene on major public cultural issues, such as the Reunification of the Parthenon Marbles, a cause very dear to my heart. I tried to sum up these points as part of my Inaugural Lecture as the founding A.G. Leventis Professor of Greek Culture in the University of Cambridge (delivered 2009, and published by the C.U.P., 2009): 'Forever Young: Why Cambridge has a Professorship of Greek Culture'.

Q: When did you first become interested in Greek history and culture? Why did you choose to study the Classics?

A: I can almost pinpoint the moment to a precise year: I was given for my 8th birthday (1955) a copy of a simplified, children's version of Homer's Odyssey. We all know the famous episode when Odysseus, after 20 years away, at last returns to his island-kingdom of Ithaca, only to find that his palace has been taken over and is being trashed by 108 'suitors' (of his faithful Spartan wife Penelope). Outside the palace back door, full of ticks and generally in a very bad way, lies amid the dirt and squalor a dog - Argos. Once he had been Odysseus' favourite hunting dog, but now he is abandoned and degraded. Odysseus comes upon him and, though he is in disguise as a poor beggar man, Argos recognises his master! But the effort is too much - Argos has a heart attack and dies. Odysseus secretly sheds a tear - I wept out loud for half an hour...

That's the symbolic moment of origin of my classical career. Just as crucial, obviously, was the fact that I attended private schools in which the teaching of Latin was begun at the very same age - 8, and of Greek at age 11. And the learning of Latin and Greek was privileged: if you were good at these languages, as I was, then you found yourself placed in the 'top' forms or sets. And so it went, as I progressed from Colet Court in London to the senior St Paul's School, a famous Classics school founded in 1509 by humanist John Colet, a friend of Erasmus. And from there on to New College Oxford, to read 'Mods' and 'Greats', i.e. Classics (1965-69). I graduated with a 'Double First' and, since by 1969 I'd decided I wanted as a career to teach ancient history at university, I embarked on a course of doctoral (DPhil) research into early Spartan history and archaeology under the supervision of John Boardman - then plain 'Mr Boardman', now 'Sir John'.

Q: When did you first visit Greece and what do you recall from your first visit to the country?

A: I am rather ashamed - retrospectively - that I did not visit Greece until 1970 - as part of my doctoral programme. My first serious venture on Greek soil was on Crete, to take part in (in fact oversee the pottery shed for) Hugh Sackett & Mervyn Popham's excavation for the BSA (British School at Athens) of the so-called Unexplored Mansion site at Knossos. Mainly Roman levels were what we were hitting in summer 1970 - but that's not all we British and American students were hitting, by any means. A couple of local mpouats (boîtes) engaged our interest of an evening, and at weekends we went on ekdhromes, expeditions, either solo (as I did once - and when I asked directions, a local farmer asked me very fiercely 'Germanos eisai?' 'Oxi, Anglos!', I replied. Huge smiles all round - this was only a generation after the Nazi occupation) or in a group.

Participation in that excavation gave me a series of lasting and deep friendships, some now interrupted by distance or death but others still alive and well. It was also my introduction to Greek politics - under the 'dictatorship' of 'the Colonels'. Members of the BSA were required - by the Greek state - to swear that they wouldn't get involved in any political activity. I duly signed, but did not abide by my oath, not on Crete (where I listened and learned to how the fiercely independent Cretans saw Athens, regardless of which regime held power there) so much as back in Athens.

I signed the oath at the British School under the watchful eye of the then Director, Mr PM Fraser (All Souls Oxford). That would have been in about June 1970, when I arrived in Greece for the very first time. On Crete (BSA dig at Knossos) in summer 1970 I talked a lot of politics - the Cretans I spoke with (workers on the dig) were openly contemptuous of the Colonels. (Except for the Dig Foreman, Andonis - who was a Colonels' supporter. He had gained the position because his brother, a communist, had been sacked from it...) We weren't supposed even to 'talk' politics. Back in Athens in 1971 I had friends who were part of the underground resistance. e.g. I attended with them a 'secret' talk given by Cambridge economics prof Joan Robinson and went around with them distributing resistance literature to private addresses in the city. (No mobile phones, no internet...). On one occasion I agreed to act as a courier - between the resistance and (Lady) Amalia Fleming, widow of Sir Alexander (discoverer of penicillin), who lived in London. I was given - I can't now remember by whom - a fairly large packet (no idea what it contained!) to take through customs at Athens airport and then on to London, where I mailed it to Lady Fleming through the normal post. I was very very nervous going through Athens airport security and customs - but my carry-on bag wasn't searched.

Q: In Greece we have debates from time to time about the usefulness of studying Ancient Greek. Do you think that there is value in learning this ancient language?

A: I could hardly say 'no', could I? Let me start from the fact - I believe it is one - that the Greek poetic tradition is the longest continuous poetic tradition in the world, barring only - possibly - the Chinese. From Homer to the present day. One easy way of assimilating this is through The Penguin Book of Greek Verse, expertly edited and translated in 1971 by Constantine Trypanis. There are other such compendiums, but that one has the original Greek versions as well as a serviceable English (prose) translation. Then there is the fact - of this I have no doubt - that ancient Greek is the richest member of the Indo-European language family, capable of expressing the minutest nuances of emotion and description, blessed with several voices and moods and declensions and conjugations... Then - and directly consequent upon that latter fact - it's a fact that, if you don't know Greek, you can't speak a whole slew of English: so many are the loan words or invented words taken from Greek into English - e.g. photography ('light-writing/drawing') or xenophobia ('fear of strangers/foreigners/outsiders'). But of course, the chief value of learning ancient Greek is to read ancient Greek texts in the original - Homer, the world's greatest epic poet, Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides, some of the world's greatest tragic dramatists, Hippocrates, father of Western medicine, Herodotus and Thucydides, founding fathers of my own discipline of History, Plato and Aristotle, twin founders of Western philosophy - need I continue??

Q: Britain has a rich tradition over many centuries in teaching and studying the Classics – from which you have benefited and to which you have contributed immensely. Why would someone study ancient history now? How is it relevant to us?

A: In my last answer I mentioned my intellectual roots in ancient Greece: the Histories of Herodotus of Halicarnassus (c. 484-425 BCE), the History of the Atheno-Peloponnesian war by Thucydides of Athens (c. 460-400). Most people who become professional classicists do not become as I did ancient historians; for them, the literature or the philosophy are what attract and engage them. But - like one of my own English history heroes, Edward Gibbon - I have known from the age of 8 or so that I wanted to be a historian, and, since I'm a Classicist, that means I'm an 'ancient' historian. But I insist: I am a historian who happens to specialise in ancient (Graeco-Roman, Mediterranean) history, not some peculiar species of historian. Like Herodotus what engages me above all are causality and causation - why did things happen, and happen the way they did, and in no other way? I mean really significant things such as the birth, development, spread and demise of (ancient, direct) democracy, the conquest of Greece by Republican Rome, the fall of the Roman Empire in the West and East. Like Thucydides, I'm particularly preoccupied with trying to understand and explain politics - the political process, the methods of politicians, the involvement of the masses in decision-making.

Q: Which ancient Greek figure stands out for you, and why?

A: May I choose two, please? One female, one male. My female choice is a Spartan, not just any Spartan female, I admit, but a princess of the blood (more precisely, of the Eurypontid blood). Sparta uniquely in the 5th and 4th centuries - still - had two royal houses, the senior males of which ruled as joint kings (basileis). Women in Sparta were unusually empowered, by contrast to the relatively lowly status of Greek women in others of the 1000 or so Greek cities. But even Sparta couldn't contemplate a ruling Queen. Nor - I am assuming - did wives choose the names of their daughters, so I am assuming that it was her father, King Archidamus II (r. c. 465-427), who chose the name of his daughter - my female choice - Kyniska. The name means 'little dog' or 'puppy', and it's the female equivalent of Kyniskos, a name attested elsewhere in the 5th-century Peloponnese. I infer that the name gives a nod to the fact that Spartans bred particularly excellent hunting dogs, especially females, which they used in pursuit of the greatest of all 'big game', the wild boar of the lower Taygetus mountain slopes. We don't know exactly when Kyniska was born - her full brother Agesilaus II saw the light of day in about 445, so I suppose that 440 or so would be a reasonable birthdate. In which case she was about 45 when she made the biggest possible splash in the world of sports normally restricted exclusively to Greek males: the equestrian competition at the Olympic Games. In 396 she won the top-notch 4-horse chariot race - and four years later repeated that amazing feat. And she was no shrinking violet. A statue base happens to have survived from Olympia on which Kyniska had engraved a boastful epigram, telling anyone who'd listen that she was 'the first woman in all Hellas (the Greek world) to have won this crown' - the victor's olive wreath. Of course, she hadn't actually driven the winning chariots, but she had reared and trained the horses in her own stables in Sparta, where there was a considerable number of successful (male) owners and trainers already. So just to ram the point home, she opened her epigram by stating her own aristocratic breeding pedigree and bloodline: 'kings are my father and brothers', that is, the aforementioned Archidamus II and Agesilaus II and her half-brother Agis II. By 396 both Archidamus and Agis were dead: how well did Kyniska's boast go down with her full brother, reigning co-king Agesilaus? Not well at all, I think. Agesilaus's encomiastic biographer, the Athenian Xenophon, took time out to insist that, although Kyniska had indeed won an Olympic victory, it was Agesilaus's idea in the first place that she compete at all, and anyway rearing race-horses was far less important than rearing war-horses!

My male choice is a different kettle of fish altogether: not a Spartan - nor an Athenian, nor a Syracusan, nor even a Macedonian but... a Theban. We don't know exactly when he was born, some time in the last quarter of the 5th century, nor do we know much about his family background or upbringing because - unlike that of his contemporary and sidekick Pelopidas - Epaminondas's biography by fellow-Boeotian Plutarch is lost. We assume he was high status and well educated, so his career and alleged espousal of Pythagoreanism would suggest. What we do know that, unlike Pelopidas again, who went into exile, Epameinondas remained in Thebes while it was under Spartan military occupation between 382 and 379 and did what he could to keep up Theban morale and resistance from the inside - until the daring stroke of Pelopidas and a small band of brothers effected Thebes's liberation in winter 379/8. Thereafter Epaminondas was in the frontline both physically and morally. On three fronts mainly: 1. the field of battle - he was a strategist and tactician of genius, winning for Thebes and its allies two major battles, Leuktra (371) and Mantineia (362); 2. federalism: Thebes was itself the chief city of a - moderately - democratic federal state, the Boeotians; in the 360s Epameinondas extended that principle to the Peloponnese with the foundation of Megalopolis as capital of the federal state of the Arcadians; and, not least, 3: liberation: in 369 Epameinondas was key to liberating the Helots of Messenia, Greeks who for centuries had been the unfree compulsory labour-force of the Spartans. Nor was he unconventional only in religion; so too in his private life. He never married, and he died (on the battlefield of Mantineia) and was buried side by side with his current male lover.

Q: In your recently released book Thebes: The Forgotten City of Ancient Greece you write that democracy in ancient Greece "was not just a matter of institutions but also a matter of deep culture". What do you mean by that and, given recent political developments in several parts of the world, is democracy still deeply ingrained in our culture?

A: I'm almost inclined to say that the difference between any ancient form of democracy and any modern version is like the difference between chalk and cheese, or apples and pears... All ancient versions of demokratia were direct - in antiquity 'we the people' (demos) did not merely choose others to rule for/instead of them but ruled directly themselves. That in itself gave ancient Greek democratic citizens - free, legitimate adult males only, of course - a participatory stake in governance that is not available to the vast majority of citizens in representative democratic systems like our own today. That participatory stake was not felt or exercised only occasionally but almost on an everyday basis: in the 4th century BCE the Athenian Assembly met every 9 days, yes, really, the decision-making organ of the Athenian democratic state made major decisions of religious and other political policy every 9 days. The 6000 citizens who put themselves forward to be enrolled, by lot, on the annual panel of jurors might sit on average every other day - for which they were paid a small fee out of state funds. Every year the Athenians staged two religious play-festivals, for which audience members who were too poor to afford the entrance fee to the Theatre of Dionysus were given a small subsidy. Decisions as to who were the winning playwrights and impresarios - the ancient Athenian Oscars - were made by democratic majority vote. All that implies that democracy was for them not just a matter of institutions but also a matter of deep culture. That implication was made manifest in the second half of the 4th century when a new goddess was added to the official Athenian democratic pantheon, the personification of none other than Demokratia, herself.

Q: The title of a BBC Radio 4 series you recently participated in was Could an ancient Athenian Fix Britain? What is the answer to that question? And, do you think an ancient Athenian could fix modern Greece as well?

A: There is no answer to that question! I mean, no answer to 'how could or should Britain be fixed?', if by that is meant - how do we overcome the utterly disgraceful and shameful class divide between rich and poor (which in Covid-ridden Britain equates pretty much to healthy and unhealthy Britain)? or between the well and the less well educated? or between the rich and poor regions of not just England but also Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland? or between those regions - in favour of the strengthening or shoring-up of our now very shaky Union? I could go on. The ancient Athenian polis and the modern British state are simply not commensurable. However, at another level, there are ways in which, it could be suggested, ancient Athenian practices - I mean democratic political practices - could and should be re-evaluated with a view to seeing whether and how they might improve our own. Take the present - unelected - House of Lords: scandalously un-democratic as such (and that's without mentioning the 80-plus 'hereditaries'!!). And what about having far more in the way of genuinely democratic input into legislation - via constitutional assemblies of bodies selected by lot to be genuinely representative of all relevant sections of society, who would then put forward measured recommendations to Parliament? What about genuinely democratic referendums or plebiscites - in which all parties to a debate have to put forward a manifesto for which, if they win, they will be held responsible and accountable, if necessary through the courts?

Q: Boris Johnson, the British Prime Minister, has made no secret of his classical education and love for Greece. He has also said that Pericles is his hero. Do you see any similarities between the two statesmen? What is your opinion of Mr Johnson?

A: I am an academic, not a politician, but I am also a committed citizen, and not a supporter of the Party that chose Mr Johnson as its leader and thereby - at a stroke - originally as our Prime Minister. Very undemocratic, that. The office of the UK Prime Minister has infinitely more discretionary powers than Pericles ever held. Pericles was regularly elected to the top executive Athenian office, but he was as such a member of a board of ten, and any moment almost of any day he might be impeached - as he in fact was in 429 (deposed and fined). For ancient Athenian democrats, all officials however selected had to be made constantly to realise they were accountable - to the People. Johnson and Pericles? No comparison. Johnson v Pericles? No contest.

Q: In his recent interview with Ta Nea, Johnson said that “the (Parthenon) Sculptures were legally acquired by Lord Elginand have been legally owned by the British Museum’s Trustees since their acquisition.” I know that you have been campaigning for decades for the Marbles’ reunification. What did you think when you read his comments? Why do you think that the Parthenon Marbles should return to Greece?

A: How would a French person feel if the Bayeux tapestry were cut in half, and half were to remain in Bayeux, while the other half was transported to Berlin? How would an Italian feel if the Mona Lisa were cut in half and one half was transported and permanently housed in Milan while the other half remained in Paris? How would one feel about either of those - as a cultured European, or as a citizen of the world? What the British Museum currently holds of the Parthenon Marbles were removed when Athens was part of the Ottoman Empire, a power whose local functionaries on the spot could not give a fig for what Britain's Ambassador to the Sublime Porte, Lord Elgin, did to or with the Parthenon Marbles. There is no evidence yet discovered to prove that what Elgin in fact did (sheer vandalism, according to Lord Byron and many of us since) was literally authorised by the Ottoman Sultan. But, even if there were, so what? What - moral - authority could possibly legitimise the removal of artefacts from a building under alien control to the jurisdiction of a foreign power which then claims them as spoils by a supposedly legal enactment? There is in Athens on the Acropolis the very substantial remnant of a once aesthetically magnificent temple, the shadow of which extends from antiquity to modernity. There is in Athens a simply amazing modern Museum with a dedicated gallery intervisible with the Acropolis in which what the Greeks hold of the Parthenon sculptures are properly - I mean scientifically, art-historically correctly - displayed. Reunification? Q.E.D.

Q: Greece is celebrating this year the bicentennial of its War of Independence, as well as the 2,500th anniversary of the Battle of Thermopylae and naval battle of Salamis. How do you evaluate the historic importance of the War of Independence and do you agree that Thermopylae and Salamis were of seminal importance for the course of Western Civilisation as we know it?

A: I am a historian of ancient Greece and Rome, not of early 19th-century Greece and Europe - and by extension the world. But I have of course read widely in the accessible literature and am aware that there has been a ton of new research issuing forth especially since the 150th anniversary, in 1971, and now at the bicentennial. As I understand it, that research tends to emphasise the singularity, the crucially influential singularity, of what Greeks both inside and outside the boundaries of the Ottoman empire achieved during the crucial first three decades of the 19th century (not coincidentally precisely the period of Lord Elgin's vandalism). In short, the Rising of 1821 saw the birth of modernity, political modernity, both in Greece and elsewhere.

As for the 2500th anniversary - or rather the anniversaries in 2021 of the two battles of 480 BCE and the anniversary in 2022 of the finally decisive battle of Plataea in 479 BCE - the issue hinges on a massive 'what if?' What if the invading Persians under Xerxes had won, rather than the 32 or 33 resisting Greek cities? (And what if at precisely the same moment, in 480 BCE, the Carthaginians of north Africa had defeated Greek Syracuse and taken over Greek Sicily?) There are many imponderables here, and as a historian I have to insist first that we must not talk of 'Greece' or 'Greeks' as if they were a unitary political force in the way that 'the Persians' were. Most Greeks of the Aegean area did NOT choose to resist the Persian invasion, and many of them fought for rather than against the Persians. Consider only Thebes: rather than join Sparta and Athens, the leading resisters, Thebes sided with almost all Greeks from Boeotia to the Hellespont and took the Persian side. And it would be hard to find two Greek cities more UNalike than Sparta and Athens in 480-479 BCE. No doubt all the resisters agreed equally that they were fighting for freedom FROM a potential Persian takeover; but within Sparta and Athens 'freedom' could have very different meanings for different sectors of the population - for male citizens as opposed to female; for all citizens as opposed to legally unfree Helots or chattel slaves. So, for me, the question of what difference did the loyalist Greeks' victory over the Persians make on a grand, world-historical/civilisational scale boils down to - would the Athenians' precious and still infant democracy have been allowed to survive, had the Persians won? To which my answer is: unquestionably not. And - therefore - but for the loyalist Greeks' victory, there would have been no "Persians" tragedy by Aeschylus (472 BCE), and indeed no flowering of the tragic and later comic drama that constitutes the very foundation of all Western drama. No democracy would have meant no free speech, no free exchange of scientific and philosophical and other ideas, ideas which sometimes challenged even the very basis of conventional norms not least in religion. But even so, it is not of course the ancient Greeks or Athenians themselves who directly ensured that their original creations should influence subsequent civilisations including our own today - for that, we have to thank the Romans, the Byzantine Greeks, the European Renaissance, the European and American Enlightenments... 'Legacy' or cultural inheritance is a dynamic, two-way, dialectical and constantly renegotiable process - currently being rather fiercely debated so far as 'Classics' is concerned, along the two axes of racism and sexism above all. Let a thousand flowers bloom...

This interview was written by  Ioannis Andritsopoulos, UK Correspondent for Greek daily newspaper Ta Nea and published on 17 April 2021

Professor Paul Cartledge received his Commander of the Order of Honour from H.E Ambassador Ioannis Raptakis in London on 22 April 2021, at the Ambassador's Residence . This  was organised on the occasion of Philhellenism and International Solidarity Day and Greece's 1821 Bicentennial. John Kittmer,  Kevin Featherstone, Stephen Fry and Robin Lane Fox  were awarded the Commander of the Order of Phoenix and Professor Paul Cartledge with the Commander of the Order of Honour . H. E Ambassador of Greece, Ioannis Raptakis, presented the medals on behalf of the President of the Hellenic Republic, Katerina Sakellaropoulou, recognising each distinguished philhellene for their contribution in enhancing knowledge about Greece in the UK and reinforcing the ties between the two countries.

H.E. Ambassador Raptakis with Professor Cartledge, awarded  the medal of Commander of the Order of Honour  and  second photo John Kitmer with Ambassador Raptakis and Professor Cartledge.

Stephen Fry with Ambassador Raptakis, second photo Ambassador Raptais with Kevin Featherstone and  last image is Lane Fox.

The 14 texts which follow, each reflecting the writer’s viewpoint, are so rich and comprehensive that it is impossible for an introduction to fully encompass their essence. In most cases, the beginning, middle and end of the text refers to the barbaric act committed by Elgin.

I have therefore chosen not to repeat those well-known, well-rehearsed and well-discussed issues. Instead, I chose to contribute certain new arguments to the cause of returning and reunifying the marbles or sculptures of the Parthenon in the Acropolis Museum, which is their newly designated place of protection and display, a place that stands in close dialogue with the very monument from which those severed members originally came.

As a rich body of international bibliography on the subject makes clear, it is now obvious to all that the so-called firman which Thomas Bruce, the Earl of Elgin and ambassador to the Ottoman Empire from 1799-1803, is supposed to have procured from the Supreme Porte, in other words from Sultan Selim III, does not exist. If such a document had existed, it would have been submitted to the examining committee of the British House of Commons in 1816 – and the whole question of legality, and restitution claims by the Greek state, would have taken a different turn.

According to Elgin’s testimony to the committee, the original document sent by the Turkish authorities to Athens was lost. The Reverend Philip Hunt, the ambassador’s assistant, offered in testimony what he could recollect, 14 years later, of a translation of a French version of the original firman into Italian and later rendered into English.

However:

ONE

Official firmans of the sultan were always made in two copies, of which one was kept in the official archives and the other was sent to the designated recipient. In the course ofall the investigations made hitherto, the original, archived version of the firman has never been found.

TWO
Genuine firmans were despatched through a special designated messenger or an authorized individual or delivered by captains of the Turkish navy. In this case the so-called firman was brought to Athens by Philip Hunt, Elgin’s assistant.

THREE
For the actions that Elgin was seeking to undertake on the Acropolis, formal permission was indeed necessary because according to an unwritten Ottoman law, marble in all its forms – works of art, ancient or otherwise, and the raw material itself – belonged to the sultan. All the more so if marbles were to be removed from such a well preserved surviving decoration of a monument that was well respected by Ottoman officials as a “temple of the idols” – namely the Parthenon.

Thanks to the authentic firmans that were issued over the years for various purposes, we can ascertain what a genuine sultan’s firman looked like, what formalities it observed, what turns of phrase and calligraphy were used, and all its other features. I will not enumerate the hundreds of examples that might be mentioned. I will focus instead on two sultan’s firmans which are of immediate relevance, because they concern two protagonists of our story – Lord Elgin and Lord Byron. They are also, of course, close chronologically. The first is dated 1802 and was brought to light by Dyfri Williams. It is the official passport-firman granted to Elgin which authorized his trip to Athens and the Aegean archipelago. The second was granted to Byron in 1810 and is presented here for the first time, thanks to the generosity of a particular individual. It is the official travel document which was issued to Byron: its interpretation and presentation are the work of Ilias Kolovos, a scholar of Ottoman history.

When one compares these two original passport-firmans, they turn out to be very much alike in format, despite the fact that Sultan Selim III died in 1808 and was replaced on the throne by Mustafa IV. If we then compare those two documents – the one issued to Elgin and the one granted to Byron, which is available to us in Turkish (in Roman script) as well as English translation – with the so-called firman granted to Elgin which supposedly allowed him to remove sculptures from the Parthenon – at least according to the Italian translation, and its later English rendering. It becomes clear – as was demonstrated by the Ottomanist scholar Vasilis Dimitriadis at a conference on the Parthenon and its sculptures – that Elgin’s so-called permit is anything but a genuine sultan’s firman. He would have needed to get the personal authorization of the sultan, instead of merely relying – as he did - on the deputy to the Grand Vizier, Sejid Abdullah. That deputy was standing in because the actual Grand Vizier – Kor Yusuf Ziyauddin Pasha, otherwise known as Djezzar, (the butcher) – was at the time in Egypt.

Given that the so-called permit for the removal of the sculptures was not a genuine sultan’s act, but merely a decision issued by the deputy to the Grand Vizier – assuming that the Italian translation is real and accurate –how can anyone justify the still-adamant denial by the British authorities and the British Museum that what took place was an act of vandalism – indeed, a plundering of sculptures that were integral to the monument, constituent parts of the Parthenon? Or justify their refusal to return and reunify the marbles in the Acropolis Museum?

To put it more bluntly, how is it that certain officials – in the British Museum and elsewhere in Britain – still regard as acceptable a flawed purchase in 1816, and an arbitrary decision by Parliament in 1963, insofar as these relate to the ongoing captivity of the Parthenon marbles?

This is not the place to delve deep into the reasons for that insistence. Let me focus instead on some initiatives aimed at resolving the issue, in accordance with the realities of the 21st century. In addition to the strong and respectable arguments laid out by many people over two centuries – especially by Melina Mercouri in 1982-83 – all the way up to 2021, a number of developments stand out.

ONE
In September 2021, UNESCO’s Intergovernmental Committee for Promoting the Return of Cultural Property (ICPRCP) adopted a decision which clearly recognizes Greece’s aspirations as rational, justified and ethical. It also affirmed the intergovernmental nature of the dispute and called for consultations between Britain and Greece.

TWO
A particular methodology was followed in the return and reintegration of the so-called Fagan fragment from Palermo. This was the first return which was treated as a matter from State to State. Initially, in January 2022, the return was presented as an unspecified “deposit” – and then, in June 2022, came the permanent reintegration of the fragment into the Parthenon frieze: an act that was underpinned not merely by legal norms and technicalities but also by the friendship between two nations - Greece on one hand, Italy and in particular Sicily on the other – who share common values.

THREE
In March 2023, Pope Francis returned three fragments of the Parthenon, as an expression of universal truth, for the definitive reunification of the monument’s scattered sculptures.
The British government and the British Museum would do well to ponder the significance all these developments, while also considering certain other factors such as:

ONE
The consistent majority of British public opinion [in favour of return]

TWO
The continued support expressed by the near-entirety of the British press

THREE
International public opinion, which favours the reunification of this world-renowned monument…so that it can be properly presented in all its integrity as a work of supreme architectural and sculptural beauty; and experienced as a symbol of democracy by people of allgenerations and national origins.

And in case those arguments fail to persuade doubters of the moral soundness of Greece’s case, I will add yet another one.

Over the past few decades, there have been some well-known cases of restitution of art works – for example to Italy or to Africa. Such returns have even been made by Britain. Let me specify one example.

On August 1, 2008, the upper section of a funerary monument was returned to Greece from New York.

It was made of Pentelic marble and it dates from the late fifth century – about 410 BCE, shortly after the completion of the Parthenon. Μy Professor George Despinis, as early as 1993, had proven that the piece came from a funerary monument whose lower half had been discovered in the soil of Attica – in Porto Rafti – and was then conserved in the Museum of Βrauron in Attica.

After some negotiations, the purchasers of the upper part – who were American citizens –gave that segment back to Greece, while Greece acknowledged that the purchase had been made in good faith. The matter was settled and the two parts of the funerary monument are reunited in a Greek museum.

I will now refer to a rather similar case, concerning the Parthenon. The lower part of segment number XXVII of the Parthenon frieze – showing a charioteer, part of a chariot and a stable lad –is in the Parthenon Gallery, while the upper part is in the Duveen Gallery of the British Museum.

Just about anybody will readily understand the similarity of the two stories. In particular, the morally equivalent fate of the piece of marble that was broken off and plundered by Elgin’s team and the severed upper part of the funerary monument – while in both cases, the lower sections remained in the place where the works had been fashioned.

So given that the principle of repatriation was applied in the case of the artefact in New York, exactly the same norm should apply in the case of the broken segment from the northern side of the Parthenon frieze.

One could of course take the argument further and note that in the case of the funerary monument, the buyer was in legal terms an individual rather than a state; and then observe that under international law, no state can retroactively justify illegal acts by one of its citizens on foreign soil - given that in such cases international law supersedes anything enacted by local or national legislatures.

In view of all that, how can it be that a state, in this instance the British state, vindicates the vandalism and plunder perpetrated by one of its subjects? Considering that Elgin, as a private individual, committed an act of vandalism, along with his associates, and broke off sculptures from the Parthenon - only to transport them to England in order to decorate his home, where they would have stayed if he had not gone bankrupt.

People who persist in justifying the purchase of 1816 must surely accept this: the mostone might say is that this decision amounted to a “receipt of stolen goods” in good faith – as was the case with the purchase of upper part of the funerary monument from Brauron.

In no way can they justify the illegal actions of a British subject, Lord Elgin – in view of the considerations I have laid out.

Nor, by the same token, should any government οr state wish to carry the moral burden that results from such tainted acts. I believe the moment has come for our British friends to take a noble decision and rid themselves of the moral burden which Elgin - rashly, and in pursuit of personal gain – laid on Britain, the British Museum and the people of Britain.

The above text was the lead article in a Kathimerini supplement published 17 March 2024, entitled:H AΡΠΑΓΗ, 'Tthe Grab, Elgin and the Parthenon Sculptures'

In the same supplement BCRPM member Bruce Clark's article 'Laws, democracy and hypocrisy' was also plublished.

Photo credit for the images of Professor Stampolidis: Paris Tavitian 

On the occasion of 200 years since Lord Byron’s death, the Acropolis Museum honours his memory with a small, symbolic exhibition related to Lord Elgin’s removal of the architectural sculptures of the Parthenon.

It is said that Byron’s last words before his death were about Greece: ‘I gave her my time, my health, my presence, and now I am giving her my life. What more could I have done?’

And yet, as one will notice in the small exhibition at the Acropolis Museum ground floor, Byron left us one more, unexpected gift, that contributes eloquently and powerfully to the arguments for returning and reuniting the architectural sculptures of the Parthenon. It is Byron’s passport, an authentic Sultanic firman, which allowed him to travel across the territory of the Ottoman Empire. The firman-Byron’s passport provides yet another opportunity to challenge the argument of the alleged existence of Elgin’s “firman” which ostensibly sanctioned the removal of the Parthenon sculptures. Other than the firman, Museum visitors will have the opportunity to see the “Exodus from Messolonghi” (1827) by Louis Joseph Toussaint Rossignon, one of many painters inspired by this subject.

The small exhibition and the publication accompanying it include three sections:

a) a selection of annotated traveler images from the Acropolis and the Parthenon (by Carrey, Dodwell, Fauvel, Pars, among others), from a time before Lord Byron and the plunder of the monument’s sculptures by Elgin up until the constitution of the modern Greek state and the founding of the archaeological site of the Acropolis in 1834, as seen in the exhibition video

b) a short biography and excerpts from Byron’s poems “The Curse of Minerva” and “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage”, which refer to the brutal detachment and destruction of the Parthenon’s architectural sculptures by Elgin and their subsequent underhanded seizure and removal

c) Byron’s original passport, a genuine, unexpected Sultanic firman [Islamic royal mandate or decree], exhibited for the first time in the Museum, and serving as an opportunity to reopen the discussion on the return and reunification of the Parthenon sculptures.

The exhibition “The Parthenon and Byron. On the occasion of 200 years anniversary since Byron’s death” will open to the public on Friday 26 April 2024 at the Museum’s ground floor. No ticket is required to visit this space. A bilingual publication (Greek-English) will be available in the Museum Shops from Monday 29 April 2024.   

‘Scaped from the ravage of the Turk and Goth,

Thy country sends a spoiler worse than both’

In 1809, the young Lord Byron, one of the prominent figures of the Romantic Movement and the most liberal voice of the time, during his first trip to Greece, visited the Parthenon. The mutilation of the monument by Lord Elgin was still fresh and the magnitude of the crime shocked the young philhellene. In the poem-complaint "The Curse of Minerva", which he wrote in Athens on March 17, 1811, he asks the goddess Athena (Minerva) to punish the perpetrator, who took advantage of his position against an enslaved people.

The vandalized Temple of the Athena Parthenos was rendered by foreign traveler painters, such as the Irish painter and antiquarian E. Dodwell, sparking an international outcry, along with the "Curse of Minerva" and the " Childe Harold's Pilgrimage " written by Lord Byron a year later.

On March 10, 1812, John Murrey, publisher and friend of Byron, published Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. In this long poem, the hero wanders in countries and places, records his impressions, making bitter thoughts about the looting of monuments by Elgin. Five hundred copies, priced at 30 shillings each, sold out in three days. Over the next two days, another 3,000 copies of a 12-pound version was released, causing Byron to exclaim, "I awoke one morning and found myself famous!"

The enormous success of Childe Harold's Songs, and its translations into European languages, meant that Byron's thoughts and references to Greece were read by more readers than all travel books combined.

From 1812 onwards, Greece entered the consciousness of Western Europeans and Americans as a place inhabited by modern people, whose political future began to be recognized as a problem that should be addressed, contributing to the strengthening of philhellenism.

Ironically, the depredations to the Acropolis of Athens by Elgin and the acquisition, in 1817, of the "Elgin Marbles" by the British Museum were a decisive factor in Britain in the ascendancy of classical Greece. (St Clair 1998; King 2006). In Germany, the process had begun earlier, around 1750, through the writings of the scholar art historian Johann Winckelmann, father of classical archeology and founder of the movement of neoclassicism.

The condemnation of Elgin's activities in his country by prominent personalities contributed to the Parthenon Sculptures being evidence of the living conscience of the Greeks, who, as descendants of the Ancients, acted as custodians of their ancestral heritage.

The presence of the Sculptures in London and the discussion they provoked significantly influenced the aesthetic perception in British society and beyond. At a time when classicism - still a dominant trend - was heavily attacked by proponents of Romanticism, the Sculptures helped to reshape artistic taste as they represented a model different from abstract Roman art, being the leading example of the new naturalistic Grecian Gusto (Y. Hamilakis, 1999).

The admiration of European travelers for classical Greece often led to attempts to appropriate it, with the formation of private collections and the sale of antiquities culminating in the 19th century. As early as the end of the 18th century, the territories of the Ottoman Empire and the Italian peninsula were part of the Grand Tour, a monthslong journey of spiritual and aesthetic culture made by European nobles after completing their studies.

The French philhellene writer, politician and traveler, viscount François-René de Chateaubriand, who had already visited Greece in 1806, took a leading role in the Philhellenic Committee of Paris, publishing in 1825 his “An appeal for the sacred cause of the Greeks” (  Appel en faveur de la cause sacrée des Grecs) and the "Note on Greece”.  Although in his Itinerary from Paris to Jerusalem, just three years after the looting of the monument, he comments caustically on the theft of the Sculptures by Elgin, he mentions:

Descending from the Acropolis, I took with me a piece of marble from the Parthenon, as I had collected a piece of stone from the tomb of Agamemnon. And since then, I remove something from the monuments I visit, as a souvenir. Of course, they are not as nice as the ones snatched by Mr. de Choiseul and Lord Elgin, but they are enough for me.

Meanwhile, radical changes are taking place in Greece. The emerging new social class with European education and links with the western elites, discovered the heritage of their ancestors, cultivating self-awareness and participating in the creation of the community of the Greek Nation, a process that took on the dimensions of national rebirth. The looting of antiquities contributed to the awareness of the historical past. The establishment of the Greek state led to the systematic care, collection and study of antiquities, since they represented the visible material  proof of the national continuity and were deeply integrated in the newly constructed national memory (Y. Hamilakis, 1999).

The Nobel Prize awarded poet George Seferis records it masterfully. The weight of the marbles hurts, but it is impossible to let it down:

I woke up with this marble head in my hands

that exhausts my elbows and I do not know where to put it down.

In his essay "A Greek - Makriyannis" (1981), G. Seferis highlights the famous saying of General Makriyannis in his Memoirs, which we often mention in public speech:

"I had two wonderful statues, a woman and a prince, intact - the veins were visible, they were so perfect. When they destroyed Poros, some soldiers had taken them, and in Argos they would sell it to some Europeans; they were looking for a thousand thalers... I gathered the soldiers, I told them: ‘Even if they give you ten thousand thalers, never accept for them to leave our homeland. That's what we fought for ".

"You understand, says Seferis. It’s not Lord Byron speaking, neither the most learned, nor the archaeologist; a son of a shepherd of Roumeli speaks with a body full of wounds. ‘That's what we fought for’. Fifteen gilded academies are not worth the value of this man’s words. Because only in such feelings can the education of the Nation take root and flourish. In real feelings and not in abstract notions about the beauty of our ancient ancestors or in dried hearts that have become obfuscated by the fear of the mass mob".

Panagiotis Kanellopoulos in the History of the European Spirit, points out that the Sicilian historian Xavier Scrofani, who visited Greece in 1794-95, fifteen years before Lord Byron, observed, like the latter, the continuity of the language with that of the ancients.

Reşid Pasha, also known as Kütahı, in 1826, besieged the Acropolis, where Greek fighters were holding cover. From his reference to the Sublime Porte, it is clear that he had realized the connection of Greek antiquities with the birth of national consciousness in the enslaved Greeks and their great contribution to the creation of the philhellenic movement in Europe, which will play such a decisive role in the course and final outcome of the Struggle for Independence (Th. Veremis, 2020).

The Bonapartist colonel, Olivier Voutier, narrates that in 1822, many fighters besieging the Acropolis of Athens chose to retreat, in order to stop the besieged Turks from demolishing the surviving parts of the walls and breaking the columns of the Parthenon to grab the lead of ancient binders, which was useful for casting bullets. With the mediation of Kyriakos Pittakis, later curator of Antiquities of the newly formed Greek state, Odysseas Androutsos stopped the destruction of the monument by supplying the Turks with bullets.

The first poetic response to the outbreak of the Greek Revolution did not come from Byron but from his younger contemporary and friend and one of the most important English romantic poets, Percy Bysshe Shelley. Shelley's enthusiasm for the flame of independence that prevailed in Greece prompted him to write in 1822, the lyrical drama Hellas, which he dedicated to Prince Mavrokordato. In the preface he states: "We are all Greeks. Our laws, our literature, our religion, our arts have their roots in Greece".

John Keats, one of the most beloved romantic poets, with a permanent presence in the British textbooks, a close friend of Byron and Shelley, inspired by the myths of classical antiquity in his widely read poem Ode on a Grecian Urn, written in 1819, reaffirms his belief in ancient Greek art as an autonomous body of humanitarian values, through an exemplary expression for the aesthetics of the 19th century.

The British Hellenist Jennifer Wallace points out that two events at the beginning of 19th century heralded the institutionalisation of Hellenism in the British establishment and the supremacy of Greece over Rome as a cultural and aesthetic model. First, when between 1801 and 1806 Lord Elgin removed all the sculptures from the Parthenon and shipped them to England to improve British taste, and second, in 1807, when Oxford introduced classical degree examinations. Greece and its culture were now considered essential elements for the moral education of  the young and the touchstone for artists.

The reduction of classical antiquity as the cosmological cornerstone of Western European civilization had fundamental consequences in the recovery of national identity. The Sculptures of the Parthenon, being one of the most powerful landmarks of Hellenism, were to contribute decisively to the struggle of “paliggenesia” (regeneration).

Sophia Hiniadou Cambanis, is a lawyer specialized in public law and cultural management, Hellenic Parliament

* The text was based on the speech presented at the Conference "Political Patriotism and the Constitutions of the Greek Revolution", Theocharakis Foundation, 13-14.10.2021 and the article was also published in Ta Nea 15 November 2021. 

 Diary page of The Spectator, 11 March 2023, George Osborne wrotes: 

The Elgin Marbles have always been controversial. Some, like that great Romantic poet Lord Byron, thought they should never have left Greece; but at the British Museum they have been admired by tens of millions of people and I believe they play a vital role in telling the complete story of our common humanity. We trustees are exploring with the Greeks whether there’s a way to solve this 200-year-old dispute so that the sculptures can be seen both in London and Athens, while treasures currently in Greece could be seen by new audiences here. We may succeed, or we may not, but it’s worth trying. I read this week that that other great romantic, Boris Johnson, is worried about it. Surely that can’t be the same Boris who once wrote a column saying that ‘the reasons for taking the Marbles were good. The reasons for handing them back are better still. The Elgin Marbles should leave this northern whisky-drinking guilt culture, and be displayed where they belong: in a country of bright sunlight and the landscape of Achilles, “the shadowy mountains and the echoing sea”’? There must be two Borises.

Read this in The Spectator, 11 March 2023, Diary, page 9.

We would add, that tens of millions of visitors can also see the surviving Parthenon Marbles in the superlative Acropolis Museum, in Athens. A purpose-built state of the art museum which opened on 20 June 2009. The top floor, glass walled Parthenon Gallery, displays the surviving sculptures not removed by Lord Elgin's men at the start of the 19th century when Greece had no voice, and offers direct views to the Parthenon, which still stands.

The Parthenon Gallery in the Acropolis Museum is the one place on earth where it is possible to have a single and aesthetic experience simultaneously of the Parthenon and its sculptures.

Twelve British philhellenes share their thoughts on Greece ahead of 2023, writes Yannis Andritsopoulos, London Correspondent for the Greek daily newspaper Ta Nea. 

The 1821 Greek Revolution against the rule of the Ottoman Turks sparked a wave of sympathy and support in many parts of the world, which came to be known as the ‘Philhellenic movement’ or ‘Philhellenism’ (the love for Greek culture and the Greek people).

April 19, the date on which the poet and great philhellene Lord Byron died, has been declared by the Greek state as Philhellenism and International Solidarity Day.

Two hundred years on, many people around the world continue to love Greece and stand by it.

Twelve acclaimed contemporary British philhellenes send their wishes for the New Year to Greece and the Greek people in this article written exclusively for the Greek daily newspaper Ta Nea. Notably, most of them think that the reunification of the Parthenon Marbles is one of the highest priorities in Greek-British relations.

Sarah Baxter

Journalist, Director of the Marie Colvin Centre for International Reporting, former Deputy Editor of The Sunday Times, Member of the Parthenon Project's Advisory Board

Happy 2023! Here's to a year of friendship and harmony. I'm hoping we will see the Parthenon sculptures begin their permanent journey home, with some wonderful Greek treasures heading in the other direction to the British Museum on loan. We know a "win-win" deal is going to happen eventually. Let's get on with it!

Roderick Beaton

Emeritus Koraes Professor of Modern Greek & Byzantine History, Language & Literature at King’s College London, Chair of the Council of the British School at Athens

A wish that won't come true: for the UK to return to the place it left in the EU following Brexit. Not only would we, the friends of Greece, regain the right we lost to stay close to you without restrictions, but also the voice of a country that had so much to offer to everyone would be heard during the political developments and critical decisions that 2023 will inevitably bring. Just imagine how you Greeks managed your referendum more skilfully than we did!

Paul Cartledge

A.G. Leventis Professor of Greek Culture Emeritus at the University of Cambridge, President of The Hellenic Society, Vice-Chair of the British Committee for the Reunification of the Parthenon Marbles (BCRPM) and Vice-President of the International Association for the Reunification of the Parthenon Sculptures (IARPS)

Greece has become such a major world player in the past century, not to mention the past two centuries, that it's hard to select any contemporary or likely future issue where relations between Britain and Greece in 2024 are not of the utmost significance. In the sphere of international cultural relations and soft diplomacy, one issue stands out above all others for Greece and Britain mutually speaking: 'the Marbles'. A resolution sparked by British generosity is devoutly to be wished.

Bruce Clark

Author, journalist and lecturer, Online Religion Editor of The Economist, BCRPM member

In 2023 it will be 190 years since the Ottoman garrison left the Acropolis and the Holy Rock became an archaeological site which fascinated and dazzled the world. The arguments for reuniting the Parthenon sculptures, for the benefit of people in Greece, Britain and many other countries, become stronger with every passing year.

Alberto Costa MP

Conservative Member of Parliament for South Leicestershire and Chairman of the All-Party Parliamentary Group (APPG) for Greece

On behalf of the All-Parliamentary Group for Greece in the British Parliament, I would like to wish our friends in the Greek Parliament, and the Greek people, a very happy New Year. I am delighted that relations between our two countries are stronger than ever and that Greece and her people enjoy a huge amount of support in the British Parliament. We very much look forward to building upon on our relationship, and our shared values and commitments, next year and in further strengthening the historic bonds that our two countries share.

Armand D'Angour

Professor of Classical Languages and Literature at the University of Oxford, Fellow and Tutor in Classics at Jesus College, Oxford, BCRPM member

It is heartening to see that the partnership of the UK and Greece is closer than ever, and that the green light has now been given for the return of the Parthenon sculptures to their rightful home. In these politically fractious times, governments should recognise who their friends are and be generous with both moral and practical support. The return of the sculptures will be a long-awaited gesture of friendship as well as a great morale-booster for both countries.

Hugo Dixon

Journalist, Commentator-at-Large with Reuters

My 2023 wish is that Turkey chooses a new leader and the West finds a way to bring the country in from the cold. A new leader should realise that it is not in Turkey’s interests to play the West off against Russia – especially as Vladimir Putin is a loser. If Turkey comes back to the heart of NATO, Greece will be one of the biggest beneficiaries.

Kevin Featherstone

Director of the Hellenic Observatory at the LSE, Eleftherios Venizelos Professor in Contemporary Greek Studies and Professor in European Politics at the LSE’s European Institute

Dear Greece,

I hope we will agree to send the Marbles back in 2023. Our two countries have a long-term ‘love affair’ and it’s the least we could do after the folly of ‘BREXIT’ – pushing up university fees for Greek students. But we have a favour to ask, please. At present, our prime ministers don’t last as long as a lettuce, and they have much less brain power, so might you have a politician to spare? Not Dimitriadis or Kaili, though, or we’ll go ‘nuclear’ and send you Boris.

Judith Herrin

Archaeologist, byzantinist, historian, Professor Emerita of Late Antique and Byzantine Studies and Constantine Leventis Senior Research Fellow at King's College London, BCRPM member

Dear friends,
As 2022 comes to an end, I send my warmest greetings to Greece hoping for a healthier and more peaceful New Year.
The campaign for the return of the Parthenon Marbles to their rightful place in the new Acropolis Museum gathers momentum, reminding us of the powerful initiative of Melina Mercouriand Eleni Cubitt.
Let's hope for a breakthrough in 2023! Happy New Year!

Victoria Hislop

Author, BCRPM member

I wish all my friends in Greece a Happy New Year. We are living in uncertain times but there is one thing I am becoming more certain of - opinions are beginning to shift significantly on the Parthenon Sculptures and I think we are moving closer to the time when they will be returned to their rightful home in Athens. Many other museums in Britain are recognising that they have objects in their possession that were unlawfully acquired during our colonial past - and the return of Elgin’s “loot” is long overdue. This is my wish for 2023.

Denis MacShane

Former Minister of State for Europe in the Tony Blair government, former President of the National Union of Journalists (NUJ), author and commentator

2022 was the year Britain returned to Greece. Up to August 2022, 3 million visitors went from the UK to Greece – a three-fold increase on the previous year. The weak English pound devalued thanks to Brexit has not damaged the love affair of the English with Greece.

But love has its limits. Although Prime Minister Mitsotakis told a packed meeting at the London School of Economics that he hoped soon the looted Parthenon Marbles would rejoin the rest of the sculptures from the Parthenon in the Acropolis Museum, there was no indication from Britain’s Conservative ministers London was willing to move.

The pro-Turkish Boris Johnson was fired by Tory MPs from his post as Prime Minister. But while France’s President Macron has expressed support for Greece as Turkey’s President Erdogan, inspired by Vladimir Putin, steps up his bellicose language threatening Greece, Britain remained silent in 2022 on the need for Europe to stand with Greece against Erdogan’s threats and demagogy.

Dame Janet Suzman

Chair of the British Committee for the Reunification of the Parthenon Marbles (BCRPM), actor, Honorary Associate Artist at The Royal Shakespeare Company

In a world which seems unremittingly wicked we want tales of powerful gods presiding over squabbling mortals and blissful marriages with happy endings. That’s my dream for the Parthenon Marbles: the Prime Minister will charm the Chairman of the British Museum into a wedding ceremony in the Acropolis Museum, to witness the marriage of the two estranged halves of the glorious Parthenon pediment - accompanied by the cheers of the wedding guests galloping happily round the frieze, now returned home. If only…

This article was published in the Greek daily newspaper Ta Nea(www.tanea.gr) on 30 December 2022.