Restitution of artifacts challenges colonial narratives, embraces cultural dialogue - Catholic news – La Croix International
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Restitution of artifacts challenges colonial narratives, embraces cultural dialogue
By Marianne Meunier - October 15th, 2024 at 05:00 am (Europe\Rome) - Updated October 15th, 2024 at 11:22 am (Europe\Rome)
La Croix: We are at the Louvre, where you are about to give five lectures on the museum's connection to the artworks from around the world exhibited here. Do you feel confronted with a colonial narrative that celebrates France as the center of the world, as some critics suggest?
Souleymane Bachir Diagne: I had that perception of the Louvre until the inauguration of the Pavilion of Sessions (dedicated to African, Asian, Oceanic, and American arts, Ed.) in 2000. From then on, I started reconsidering the idea of an overarching narrative wrapped in its universality. I began to think that, in some way, this Pavilion of Sessions was welcoming these objects as if they were at home.
How can some of these objects be “at home” here when they were taken during the colonial era?
Essentially, my position aligns with the late Senegalese Amadou Mahtar M'Bow, former Director-General of UNESCO. In the late 1970s, he made a powerful appeal for the return of heritage from former colonies, but at the same time, he acknowledged that this heritage had taken root on borrowed soil. Gradually, this idea became central to my thinking, and I began to see these objects not merely as exiles waiting to return but as having created something here.
My conviction grew stronger that by welcoming them, the Louvre was fulfilling its purpose: to decenter itself and open up to challenges to the idea of a purely European, self-contained universalism.
What have these objects created in Europe?
They contributed significantly to 20th-century contemporary art. Picasso is the best example. More broadly, they led to an "Africanization” of the world during the colonial period while a form of “Europeanization” occurred. Taken by force to Europe, they generated a dynamic that reflected their vitality. We can’t emphasize this enough. Their presence in a museum is not only explained by the hand that snatched them from their original land but also by the meaning they now give to the museum. These objects are not victims; they are agents.
How can this role be highlighted in the museum space?
Here at the Louvre, two projects are underway. First, the architectural opening of the Pavilion of Sessions which breaks its isolation. Currently, visitors only go there if they intend to. Renovations (scheduled until fall 2025, Ed.) aim to integrate it into the museum’s overall layout. Secondly, there's what I call “kinship,” thinking of objects together and making them speak to one another.
After the renovations, the "Blue Man" (an anthropomorphic sculpture from Vanuatu, Ed.) will be placed next to an ancient statue. For an object to "be at home" here means to converse with other objects. This will be the theme of one of my lectures: "When the Mona Lisa Smiles at the Dimpleless Masks."
Hearing you, it sounds like the ongoing restitution efforts are not necessary…
Many approaches are possible. The way Germany negotiated with Nigeria over the Benin Bronzes, which were clearly war spoils, is interesting. Some will return to Nigeria, while others will remain in Germany. To me, the violent, decolonial stance that says everything African must be returned is absurd. It erases the narrative of how these objects found their place elsewhere and nullifies the relationship that has been established.
“The violent, decolonial stance that says everything African must be returned is absurd. It erases the narrative of how these objects found their place elsewhere and nullifies the relationship that has been established.”
Restoring ownership of objects is important as an act of repair and recognition. However, this process is simpler for objects that are true war spoils than for others. Some were acquired through exchanges, as colonization was not only an arena of pure violence but also one of trade. The provenance of objects is crucial. It must be established, which takes time, and then displayed. This helps to understand the nature of these objects, which are to be shared.
This is also how we preserve the universal—a “lateral” universalism, one that steps outside itself and embraces the idea that cultures communicate. Even when they clash in violence, they eventually engage in dialogue and create a common language.
“We must not abandon the concept of the universal,” you write. Can you remind us of the importance of preserving it?
Destroying universalism means destroying the idea of humanity. This is the result when we believe cultures are separate humanities that should remain distinct. As I point out in my book, it’s no coincidence that a thinker from the far-right (Alain de Benoist, Ed.) believes there are only separate humanities and that “humanity” in the singular is, at best, a zoological notion.
“Destroying universalism means destroying the idea of humanity. This is the result when we believe cultures are separate humanities that should remain distinct.”
This is essentially the definition of apartheid: separate development based on the belief that human cultures are not meant to mix. But because a culture is human, it speaks to humanity. In other words, every culture signals to the whole of humanity. Nothing illustrates this better than artistic creations.
You mention “identity performances” that contribute to the fragmentation of cultures. Where do these occur?
Particularly in the idea that I can’t speak about a culture unless I belong to it. This extends to the novelist wondering if they have the right to give voice to a character who doesn’t share their identity. This obsessive policing of identities denies the old humanist saying, “I am human, and nothing human is alien to me.” The fragmentation of cultures contradicts the idea of the world’s pluralities converging toward a horizon of universality, as Jean Jaurès said. Humanity must be our compass. We need to build a politics of humanity that doesn’t deny the world’s pluralities. A museum like the Louvre can contribute to this.
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Fang Mask, 19th century, Gabon, from the Ngil secret society, made of wood, kaolin, and brass nails
“This mask illustrates the Africanization of modern art. It is known that African objects influenced Picasso’s creations. He discovered them through the painter André Derain, a collector who owned a Fang mask that deeply impressed him. It is also a good illustration of what Senghor wrote about the geometric significance of objects. Look at the play of convex and concave lines. They do not adhere to a concern for proportion but for the transposition of rhythm. They represent, in a way, a 'rhythmic series,' as Senghor would say. What is depicted here is not the thing itself, but the essence of the thing.”
Fon Sculpture, attributed to Akati Ekplékendo, before 1858, Benin, statue dedicated to Gou, the god of iron and war, made of iron and wood
“This 'god of iron,' which comes from Benin, brings to mind the issue of restitution. In Dahomey, Franco-Senegalese Mati Diope's film that won the Golden Bear at the Berlin International Film Festival this year, Beninese students lament its absence among the 26 objects France returned to their country. As for me, I can see it remaining here. This object is at home in the Louvre. Of course, we could imagine a loan or even a transfer of ownership to the state of Benin. However, ownership must be separated from location. The objects in the Louvre are meant to be nomadic. This 'god of iron' also shows the diversity of African art. It is not limited to masks and can incorporate European materials.”
Monumental Moai Head, made of basaltic tuff, Easter Island
“This object fascinates me. We don’t know much about the sculptures of Easter Island or its cosmology. It is believed that they represent protective deities. However, this head, carved from rock, with its monumental size and closed eyes, enthralls me. Like the 'god of iron' from Benin that I just mentioned, it points toward transcendence, but in a different way. It is, in a sense, the union of transcendence and absence. Since this object is not African, a relationship has been built between the two of us. This is clear evidence of its universal dimension. I tell myself that by taking up this position at the Louvre, I am placing myself under its protection.”