Africa's looted art | DW Documentary

They burned down the city, they massacred a whole lot of people, and then they looted these artefacts. When you rob a people of its entire cultural heritage, then you steal their soul, and then you can enslave them. What happened hollowed out society, ripped out its heart. It was dramatic, and that wasn't even the worst that happened. You can't lock up the soul of a people. These ethnological museums are like prisons. They're prisons. It's crazy. The banks of the Wuri River, on the edge of the coastal city of Douala. Last minute preparations are underway. In a few days time, the most influential families in Douala will be competing in a canoe race. The contest is a traditional part of the annual Ngondo Water Festival. Valère Epée is the chairman of the festival's board of elders. He's checking up on progress. Only after the carved wooden figurehead known as the Tanguay is put in place, can the event begin. The Tanguay is only put in place on Saturday. It's the very last part of the preparations. It's not done at any old time. Traditionally, it's done on the eve of the event. And it's not done by any old person. And the Tanguay is not merely decorative. The Tanguay is a magical object. It decides the outcome of the canoe race. Victory or defeat depends on it. The Tanguay contains the forces of the river's depths. One of these ornate figureheads was looted by German colonial powers in the 19th century. Like Valère Epée, these regional elders have a deep respect for the cult of the Tanguay. The issues of colonial looting and the repatriation of African art is every bit as pressing a topic here as it is in Europe. I get the impression that our debate here tends to remain very Eurocentric. No one is talking to Africans and asking them what they envisage, what solutions they have in mind, and what sort of cooperation they would like to see. Is the repatriation of objects, some of which are over 100 years old, what matters most to them? Or might they have other priorities? We are not saying, or I am not saying that everything should be returned. But if there are works that were taken under very unsavoury conditions, I think they should be returned to their owners. There's no justification for the killings, for the massacre. And therefore there cannot be any justification for the continual retention of our artefacts. Key cultural heritage was stripped away in a brutal fashion. Nothing can fill the void that was left. That's why it's important that repatriation occurs. There's no doubt that it would help reconcile a violently fractured society. In the late 19th century, German and British colonialists were scrambling for influence on the coast of Cameroon. In 1884, the Douala kings signed a treaty of protection with German trade representatives. But Loc Priso opposed the treaty. Several months later, he felt the full force of Germany's military muscle when German warships reached Douala. On December 21st, 1884, his village was attacked and torched. At least 25 people lost their lives. The German consul, Max Buchner, wrote in his journal, The house of Loc Priso is being torn down. A stirring, striking image. We are setting everything on fire. As booty, Buchner took a wood carving from the house, a tangay, the feudal boat ornament belonging to Loc Priso. When Max Buchner returned to Munich a year later, he gave this tangay to the Royal Ethnographic Collection, today's Five Continents Museum. A gift drenched in blood. Today, over 100 years later, curator Stefan Eisenhofer is grappling with the question of this wrongfully obtained object's ownership. Since the late 1990s, Professor Prince Kumundumbe III has been demanding its return on the grounds that he is its rightful owner. This is a tangay that belonged to my grandfather. I am his successor. But the Germans say I must prove that I am my grandfather's rightful heir. Benin City in southern Nigeria. Sadly, in recent decades, its notoriety as a hub of human trafficking has eclipsed its centuries-old reputation as a center of arts and crafts, and specifically, bronze works. Not far from the royal palace of the Oba of Benin, Igun Street is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, home of the Guild of Benin Bronzecasters. Local artist Inutiye Ogbebor is visiting his friend Ewen Agbe in his bronze casting workshop. He uses the same method employed 700 years ago. With the lost wax process, molten metal is poured into a mold that has been created with a wax model. Once the mold is made, the wax model is melted and drained away. The process means that each work is unique, but these days, scrap metal is used as well as bronze. Yes, of course. 1897. The kingdom of Benin in today's Nigeria was rich in palm oil, rubber, and ivory. Trade with the Europeans was flourishing. But the king, the Oba, was a thorn in the side of the British who wanted greater influence in what was the last independent kingdom in the region. They sent a small expedition to Benin city. It was ambushed en route, leaving seven British officials dead. In response, the British launched a punitive expedition by a force of 1,200 soldiers of the Royal Navy. The troops burned down towns and villages, massacring local residents. Once they had captured the city, they began looting its monuments and the royal palace. Ivory, wood carvings, masks, bronze sculptures, and reliefs. Thousands of valuable artifacts were stolen, shipped to Europe, and distributed to its major museums. Berlin ended up with one of the largest collections. The Oba was sent into exile. To this day, there has been little repatriation of these looted artifacts. In 2000, Prince Edun Akinzua submitted a formal request to the British House of Commons for restitution of a number of items, in vain. I think we want outright return of those things here. They belong here. This is where they were made, and we know the purpose, the reason why we made them. It's our heritage, and every country who lost their heritage, they have nothing anymore. With these things looted, a vacuum has been left. The Benin National Museum showcases the history of the famous Benin bronzes. Museum director Feofilos Omogbai explains their significance. We have a bronze head here. We have some bronze plaques here, and they are usually used for decorating shrines and the palace of the Oba of Benin. Now, bronzes were made not just for aesthetics. It's not art for art's sake. Every motif you see on it tells a story. So the bronze castles were part of the chronicles of the history of Benin. The history of a state, immortalized in bronze. The newly renovated museum houses works made after the British conquest. The older works are in Europe and the U.S. The objects taken abroad help to tell our story, because prior to that time, they said we lived on trees, we were monkeys, we were this, we were that. We were without culture. We were brutish, savages, and so on and so forth. But when they saw the objects abroad, they changed their narrative about us. Germany's ethnological museums are brimming with artifacts amassed overseas, bought, traded, gifted, and looted. Well over 1.5 million of them. But only 5% have ever been put on display. In many instances, little is known about them beyond brief notes in the museum's inventories. To whom did they originally belong? What was their purpose? Provenance research can help shed light on their origins, but often entails laborious detective work. The Linden Museum Stuttgart is looking into the provenance of its Namibia collection, with the help of Steven Isak from the initiative Heritage Watch Namibia. For starters, we would not know what are in the stores of European museums. We would not have the full inventory. Basically, our museum storerooms are full. Some of the artifacts are increasingly in a state of disrepair, because museums are unable to restore them and properly look after them. Two objects have been exhibited in Stuttgart just twice in over 100 years. A Bible and a whip from Namibia. In 2013, the Namibian embassy formally requested their return. German Southwest Africa, 1893. Hendrik Witbooi lived in a village called Honkranz. He was the chief of a Nama clan and a devout Lutheran. Driven by his religious ideals, he rebelled against the cruelty of the colonial oppressors. That April, German colonial forces attacked and ransacked the village. 80 people were brutally murdered and the others taken by the soldiers, who also made off with Witbooi's Bible and cattle whip. After the massacre, Witbooi was forced to cooperate with the colonial authorities, but he later led another uprising before he was killed in action in 1905. In the subsequent genocide, over half the Nama population was wiped out by German forces. Witbooi's Bible and whip were donated to the Linden Museum in Germany. 117 years later, they're about to return to Namibia. Today is the last day that these items will be exhibited in the museum. Next week, they'll be packed up. We've had a special protective box made for them. I'll have it with me on the plane. February 2019. The delegation touches down in Windhoek early in the morning. Hendrik Witbooi's descendants are attending the reception. A debate about the repatriation of stolen art has been raging in Berlin for some time. The rebuilt Berlin City Palace will house the Humboldt Forum, which will serve as the new home of the Ethnological Museum. But how many of its treasures are colonial blood antiquities? The museum is the only one The Humboldt Forum has brought the issue of looted art center stage. It's not the first time that Berlin has been at the heart of a debate about imperialism. The African continent promised the colonial rulers wealth and power. Colonial expansion was in full flow when, in 1884, German Chancellor Otto von Bismarck invited European diplomats to Berlin for what would go down in history as the Congo Conference. There, they drew up a framework to regulate European colonization and trade in Africa, overriding most existing forms of African autonomy and self-governance. Britain, France, Portugal, Belgium and Germany all scrambled for their share. They carved up the continent between them, arbitrarily drawing up borders that partly exist to this day. Many former colonies are still struggling to gain economic independence, to resolve lingering conflicts over those arbitrarily drawn borders, and to overcome the sense of inferiority instilled in them by the colonial masters. There's a lot of colonial mentality amongst the people, thinking we have nothing, we are nothing, we were never anything, and so we must strive to be like the colonial masters in order to be regarded as human beings. But this narrative is completely false. Enuthie Ogbobor has opened his studio in Benin City to young artists. Many of them explore the trauma of colonial rule in their creative work. Osaru Ubaseki blends paint with sand from Igun Street, the historical home of the Benin bronze casters. When you are preparing the background, when you are scarifying the background, the main thing itself always has to be the focus. It's a little bit tricky because you have to go through books, because we don't have the physical objects here, so we can't really relate to these things one on one. So with the mask, you're telling the stories concerning the queen and her activities in the kingdom. Our young people can't see these excellent representations which are made by their ancestors. What's going to inspire them? Western art is made up of subjects and forms which are alien to us. So you can only be inspired only up to some level. But even if Picasso can be inspired by an African mask, you imagine how an African can be inspired by these same masks. But we don't have them to see. An estimated 95 percent of artifacts from Benin, currently housed in museums overseas, were looted during the punitive expedition. How are you going to make these things more legible? Benin has been calling for their return for more than a century, but with no result. The artifacts are scattered around the world. It's a logistical challenge. We want the artifacts back, by all means. But who do you speak to? Do you speak to the museum trustees? Do you speak to the government? Who do you speak to? These collections don't belong to the various museums. The museums can make recommendations for specific approaches or procedures. But ultimately it's a political decision, because the artifacts are public assets. Public museums in Europe are generally custodians and therefore not in a position to make autonomous decisions about repatriation. In 2010, museum director Barbara Plankensteiner co-founded the Benin Dialogue Group. Museum directors and delegates from Europe and Nigeria meet annually to discuss efforts to reunite the Benin works of art dispersed in collections around the world. When we started many years ago, we were thinking in terms of permanent loans, because museums would have been able to make such decisions themselves. What I would criticize about the Benin Dialogue Group is the lack of transparency and the fact they're still talking about permanent loans, even though our Nigerian colleagues see that as a continuation of colonialist privilege and power structures. Basically, the European museums are saying, well, if you don't agree to permanent loans, then you won't get the bronzes back. The Benin Dialogue Group has never said that, one, the objects belong to the museums where they are housed or the countries. No, no, no. We didn't say that. Neither did we say that the objects cannot come wholesale and be returned wholesale. But they are saying that, look, let's bring them in first. Let people view them. Let us enjoy it. I do not think it is what the Benin people want. They don't want a loan. They want outright return. In Benin City, there is also disagreement over the best course of action. Clearly, it will take more than initiatives like the Benin Dialogue Group to resolve the problem. A writer and professor of German language and literature, Prince Kuhmann Dumbed, III, has been calling for a return of his grandfather's tangay for over 20 years. When it was seized by Max Buchner in 1884, Loch Priso was head of the Belebele people. The Munich Museum, where it ended up, wants proof that the prince is his rightful heir. They say they want proof. In this book, I've gathered all the documents the Germans require, showing that I am Loch Priso's rightful heir. Here, for example, in 1994, the Belebele named me heir to the throne. The prince is an elite member of the Belebele chieftain. He's a member of the family, but he's not the king. The Ngondo Water Festival is getting started. All of Douala's incumbent kings have gathered. Poet Mbappe is here to represent the Belebele lineage. He has little interest in the tangay. Were the artifact to be returned to Cameroon, it would serve to strengthen his rival Kuhmann Dumbed's claim to the throne. Is the power struggle in the Belebele family hampering the repatriation effort? It's a complex matter. In our opinion, there's insufficient evidence that Kuhmann Dumbe, the third, is Loch Priso's legitimate successor. We most certainly need further talks, including with the official head of the Belebele family, Paul Mbappe. If Germany insists on negotiating with a chieftain's authorized person, then that's me. The question of Loch Priso's succession is fraught with controversy in Douala. He had 32 sons, so a number of potential successors, including Paul Mbappe. He is most definitely not a descendant of Loch Priso. The Germans don't even realize he doesn't even belong to Loch Priso's family. It's very hard for us to get to the bottom of this conflict. But the question has to be resolved before we can return the artifact. It might not have a high profile in Europe, but Nigeria's contemporary art scene is one of the most vibrant in Africa. The Nika Art Gallery in Lagos opened in 2007 and has displayed work by more than 5,000 Nigerian artists. Nika Okundeya's collection is the largest in West Africa. She has her doubts about the return of the Benin bronzes. Are we ready to receive them? That is the question. Nika's husband, Osaruy Okundeya, has his own opinion. I respect your views, but that view is not what I think it should be. They are only just raising the argument, oh, we don't have a place to keep them. Who told them that? All what we need. If I want it back, I will build a place that is convenient. So I would love our government to build a very modern museum, but without that, they are not ready. You don't need a special place to keep a bronze. The Oba's Palace is there, very well secured. They should be returned to the palace where these things were stolen originally. Most places I went to in Europe, they would say to me, well, if let us say that these things were returned to you, how are we sure they will not come over to Europe again? They will be sold to Europe by some people. I bet if those walk in Nigeria, maybe by now we will not even see it again. If you look at the news, right, you realize that a lot of the European museums have been broken into and things have been stolen from there in the past. You realize that a lot of things have not even been well kept. But Nike Okundaye is well aware that Nigeria's art and culture institutions struggle with a lack of funding. Plans for a new Royal Museum in Benin City are progressing slowly due to limited financial resources. In 2007, a bronze head of an Oba looted from Benin City, sold for a record sum of 4.7 million US dollars at Sotheby's. Benin saw none of it. You've made money from these things over the years, over centuries that you have been keeping them. I know how much I pay to enter all the museums in Europe or in America and all of those things. Why don't you take some of that money and come and build a fortress? I don't believe that the museum profited, perhaps conceptually. The artifacts were exhibited, they were promoted and researched. But that benefited everyone. There's a bit of a misconception as to how public museums work. To collect, preserve, study, educate and exhibit. This is the mission of a public museum. But museum director Uta Werlich has had to confront the question, what are the ethics of exhibiting a sacred object, a looted object like the Tanguy? It's been on display here for over 40 years. We know that by today's standards, Munich came by the figurehead unethically. Last year we reached out and Kommandant Dungberg got in touch with us. Now the ball is in our court. These ethnological museums are like prisons. They're prisons. Our soul was stolen and locked up in them. We don't see these artifacts as our hostages or prisoners. They are objects that bring people together. These are ceremonial objects. They're not just ornamental. Merely looking at objects is a European cultural practice. But is a museum in Cameroon the right home for the Tanguy either? Marilyn Douala-Bell thinks not. The co-founder of the contemporary art center Doual Art, she believes art belongs among the people, in marketplaces, in villages. We need to reframe the museum question. We don't want to say, good, the objects have been repatriated, now we'll lock them up somewhere else. The objects belong in a museum, but copies should be made and displayed in communal spaces. So how do we accomplish this? How can we use these copies to awaken a new historical narrative? It's the day of the Ngondor festival's canoe race. The Tanguy was put in pride of place during the night, in a secret ritual. Today the public is out in full force to support their teams. Around 50 rowers fit in the canoes. Each boat has a name. The neighborhood of Daido is in the Ebele Oboso. The canoe with the green figurehead has won a number of races. The German delegation in Namibia is on its way to the desert town of Rhebeon. Hendrik Witboy's Bible and Whip are returning home with a military escort. The official handover is a state ceremony attended by visitors from across the country and a host of high-ranking Namibian politicians. I'm deeply moved to see how much Hendrik Witboy's Bible and Whip mean to this country. And I'm a little ashamed knowing that these objects were safeguarded but more or less languishing in our collection for over 100 years. The moment arrives. The Bible and the Whip are back where they belong. We want those cultural objects back in our country so that our children can look, study and be inspired by them. Hendrik Witboy is a national hero in Namibia. Children are taught about the freedom fighter who rebelled against the German colonial occupation. His descendants sing the praises of his heroism. You must bring back everything which is not yours. In Germany, the acknowledgement of our difficult colonial past has taken far too long but it has begun. A taken for this is the return of the Witboy Bible and Whip after more than 100 years. Far too long. And I'm deeply sorry for that. The Bible and Whip is handed to the president of Namibia. But there is an irony to the fact that the first major artifact to be returned by Germany to Africa was a Bible brought by the German colonial masters to Namibia and then stolen by them. Is the repatriation of looted art merely so much empty symbolism? Is it perhaps not more urgent to ask how colonial thinking still shapes politics? What responsibility does Europe have to Africa? Will Germany ever atone for the Herero-Nama genocide? These are questions that politicians don't want to answer. They'd rather simply return individual items. And that worries me. We need a broader discussion about Europe's colonial legacy. The ultimate goal is not simply to return as much as possible. The goal is to systematically work through the issue, widen access, nurture dialogue, and work together as equal partners. Equal partners? We don't even let them in. How easy will it be, is it, for the African to get a visa to go to your country? But in a world riven by inequality and injustice, how much of a priority is the return of stolen art? Are there not more urgent problems that need solving? When Nigerian artist Victor Ehi-Kamenor visits Europe and the US, he makes a point of going to see the Benin Bronzes, his ancestors as he calls them. And he posts them on Instagram. Back then, it was the same way we are reflecting our society. You understand? It's new. This is the latest one that I just made. These are bronze that I, bronze statues that are cast from Benin. This is the head of Hanoba, and this is the crucifix, you know. So, yeah. Now that we are talking about African art, now we are talking about Benin bronze, I think they have done their work. They have done their job. They have shown the world. They have seen the world. The world has seen them. And I think they are kind of like thinking, OK, it's time for us to go back home. The objects that were stolen will never play the role in society they once played. Society has changed. The people who knew how to bring them to life and imbued them with energy are gone. The question of restitution has to be considered within the context of today's world so that the younger generations that will see them can develop their own emotional relationship with them. Canoes from across Douala are taking part in today's race. For the young people, the figureheads are an integral part of the boats. The boat, the tangay and the rowers are one. At the end of the race, the green tangay has won a narrow victory. The figurehead illustrates the complexity of restitution and the debate surrounding it. There aren't always straightforward solutions. And perhaps we need to accept the fact that in some cases we won't find a solution at all. I'm waiting. I've done what I can. They want our documents, I've sent them documents. Publicly. The talks between the museum in Munich and myself are no longer private. We can no longer act as though our collections came to us out of nowhere. We have to face up to our responsibility. Justice must be done for people whose soul was stolen from them. Once we have clarity, a way to reconciliation must be found. And reconciliation does not mean Africans have to go to the Humboldt Forum in Berlin to see their heritage. We don't just want to look at it. We want these objects to live here. History that lives and breathes. The way it does at the annual Igwe Festival in Benin City. The festival includes a procession to the royal palace to reaffirm loyalty to the Oba, the palace that was destroyed and plundered in the British conquest of Benin Kingdom over 120 years ago. Even today the scars have not healed. So if we don't launch processes that will free us of the burden of violence and pain we suffered in the past, we will get nowhere. What matters is that we flush out the poison of this era and reinvent our future. The easiest way is to return the artefacts. Say sorry, this was wrong, here. And then the healing can start. We are here, we are here, we are here.