With its multiple floors and gigantic collection of some 8 million pieces (the largest in the world), the British Museum is an institution in London and has contributed to the creation of many’s concept of museum: a space where to jump back to the past, meet it and learn from it, over and over again.
Back in 1753, the museum foundation was triggered by good intentions, it was the first public institution of this kind and aimed to create a universal collection that could provide insights about the entire world to people who were rarely able to travel around it.
And yet, the reason why the United Kingdom was able to access artefacts, jewels, art pieces, manuscripts and all kinds of objects from all over the globe and secure some of the best representations of foreign cultures is that at the time the country was literally on a quest to conquer the world.
This is not the place to dive too deep into this or to debate the bad or good of what was done in the last century, but I think we can safely affirm colonialism is not in its golden era. Former oppressed now feel the need, urge and right to protest and reaffirm their sovereignty over their past, refusing to see their history turned into a spectacle, locked behind glass in a pompous palace on the other side of the planet. They claim their treasures back and often contest the arrogance of the oppressor, expressed in diverse forms.
And here we come to our point. Museums’ names are often of immediate comprehension and even when they are not they convey an identifiable message. In the case of the British Museum, this can be a problem.
These three words, The British Museum, lure the average user into believing what they are going to visit are rooms where the history of the UK is narrated, but once they are in what they see is the history of the world. It takes a very short while to understand that most of these invaluable treasures were obtained in a context when purchasing them was not always necessary — who could purchase them all?
It does not bother me much on a personal level, I don’t feel offended — but I can see why many are. If you call yourself British but what you display is a global collection, it is like saying out loud that you feel entitled to unify the world under your flag or at least that you think a collection that spans the entire history of the planet is what reflects your country the most.
Was this hegemony real one hundred-something years ago? Somehow close to reality, yes. Is it still true today? Hardly.
So what if the past you are showcasing is telling your story instead of presenting the truth of history? What if one of the most important national institutions in the United Kingdom calls itself British Museum but represents a relatively short (though important) chapter of its path as if it were the only one that counts?
The British Museum is certainly not the only cultural behemoth in the West to showcase artefacts from other continents — in Berlin, the Pergamonmuseum (now temporarily closed) is renowned and notorious for its Middle Eastern and Islamic art clusters, not to mention the archaeological section; the Parisian Musée du quai Branly is a non-Western indigenous ethnographic and art museum; the ultra-popular MET in New York comprises a collection of global scope. However, the BM stands out for the national pride it highlights, the extraordinary value of the pieces it holds (often the most valuable in the history of a foreign country), and its attitude, characterized by an unwillingness to face the reality of the time we are living in. And this is to mention some.
Every genuine step towards the other always shows reluctance or seems forced by external circumstances. Responses to new challenges have never taken the form of strong stances, as if time could be frozen, change stopped. Not surprisingly, protests and critics have outpoured the institution lately, aggravated by the recent scandal of the stolen artefacts and the substantial deal signed with BP.
But when change involves the core of our cultural heritage and roots, we can rest assured the consequences will be permanent. The British Museum seems not ready to face the reality.
The Londoner museum is an established institution, it is mostly free entry and some of the pieces it contains are one-in-a-lifetime sights; this together could let it float for years without drowning.
But can it save it forever?
If the issue is left untreated, at some point the BM might reach a point of no return, either for a hole in its reputation too big to be repaired or as a victim of a too drastic wind of change. And what will be of its collections then? Unsupervised and rushed, things may turn for the worst while they could have been managed wisely from the inside before the bomb detonates.
The importance of the British Museum and its role as a cultural institution are invaluable di per se. Its spaces and resources, together with the deep web of connections and community it has built over the centuries cannot be ignored. They could instead provide an unrepeatable occasion to foster innovation in the field and dialogue between nations and cultures. The means of the former oppressor and the knowledge and consciousness of the former oppressed could be blended to create a new chapter where all artefacts are properly preserved and safeguarded but their true origin is respected and recognized and decisions are taken together.
This process could and should begin from the British Museum, its identity and its name (after all, this would not even be the first case of this kind, it would not even set an example). Matter of fact, London has been a second home to the artefacts and this won’t be altered by any restitutions — however, being part of their future is not granted and the degree of inclusion may depend on the BM’s attitude.
