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Confronting Colonial Objects Histories Legalities and Access To Culture Carsten Stahn Full Chapter PDF
Confronting Colonial Objects Histories Legalities and Access To Culture Carsten Stahn Full Chapter PDF
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C U LT U R A L H E R I TAG E L AW A N D P O L IC Y
Series Editors
PROF ES S OR F R ANCES C O FR ANC ION I
Professor of International Law and Human Rights and Co-Director of the
Academy of Academic Law at the European University Institute, Florence
advisory board
James Nafziger
Kurt Siehr
Ben Boer
Roger O’Keefe
Marc-André Renold
Federico Lenzerini
Keun-Gwan Lee
Confronting Colonial
Objects
Histories, Legalities, and Access to Culture
C A R S T E N S TA H N
Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX2 6DP,
United Kingdom
Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford.
It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship,
and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of
Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries
© Carsten Stahn 2023
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
First Edition published in 2023
Some rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in
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Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press
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DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192868121.001.0001
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Preface and Acknowledgements
The taking and return of cultural artefacts is one of the most discussed topics in the
art world and international relations. It is present wherever we go, often on our own
doorsteps. Many Western museums are major tourist attractions. They host many
objects or human remains, whose colonial histories or ‘ghostly presences’ pose in-
triguing questions in relation to the past and present or raise painful memories in
the eyes of those affected. How should we confront these challenges? These ques-
tions are not only at the heart of expert discussions or curatorial policies but go to
the core of societal identities. The ethics, institutional practices, and public percep-
tions surrounding contested objects are shifting. The significance of the moment is
captured by the striking words of Bénédicte Savoy on the occasion of the historic
French return of twenty-six objects from Dahomey to modern-day Benin: ‘Just as
there was a before and after the fall of the Berlin Wall, there will be a before and
after the return to Benin of the works looted by the French army in 1892.’1 These re-
turns are the tip of the iceberg of a movement which has gained new traction after
many decades of struggle, silence, or delay.
Coloniality was mediated through material things. The life story and transform-
ation of objects provide ample evidence that cultural objects were not only sites
of colonial violence, domination, or commodification but also symbols of resist-
ance or agents in their own right, which transformed attitudes in Western soci-
eties. Human remains became the incarnation of the body politics of colonialism.
Although the debate on restitution and return of stolen or looted cultural objects is
as old as humanity, cultural takings in the colonial era have received limited struc-
tural attention. Colonial violence has remained in the shadow of the holocaust.
Amadou-Mahtar M’Bow, former Director-General of UNESCO, recalled in 1978
that the return of cultural assets to communities of origin ‘cannot be solved simply
by negotiated agreements and spontaneous acts’.2 However, in the process of UN
decolonization, the link between history, identity, and access to culture was mar-
ginalized, despite calls for restitution. For a long time, return was treated as an issue
of cultural diplomacy. Change was mainly driven by developments of indigenous
rights and the gradual humanization of cultural heritage law.
Over the past decade, the restitution movement has reached a tipping point. We
witness a growing consciousness of the ongoing remnants of colonial injustice,
1 Farah Nayeri and Norimitsu Onishi, ‘Looted Treasures Begin a Long Journey Home from France’
changing museum ethics, and professional practices, as well as new ways to con-
front issues of ownership or access to culture. Sustainable Development Goal 16
lists ‘recovery and return of stolen assets’ as an express target. Change is driven by
civil society pressure, return claims, professional networks, curators or individual
institutions, greater transparency, the establishment of new art institutions in the
Global South—often more modern than their Western counterparts, new forms of
collaboration between museums and communities in provenance research, gov-
ernance or display, and new prospects of sharing objects. They provide the building
blocks for a new era of engagement.
This book seeks to take stock of these developments and to contribute to the
emerging strand of literature on cultural colonial takings and their contemporary
significance. One challenge is positionality. Should this be done by a Western au-
thor if there is already a diversity gap in contemporary academic publishing? On the
one hand, this is an ethical dilemma which must be openly acknowledged. There is
a pressing need to diversify scholarship, foreground local knowledge systems, and/
or strengthen the voices of those who have advocated for change, but have received
less attention in discourse. On the other hand, it is important to stimulate crit-
ical inquiry and memory in Western societies who struggle to re-engage with their
own past. As Chimamanda Adichie said at the opening of the Humboldt Forum in
Berlin: ‘We cannot change the past but we can change our blindness to the past’.3
The study seeks to heed the call by Open Restitution Africa to ensure more inclu-
sive referencing and engagement with non-Western voices and perspectives.4
The work addresses colonial objects in the broad sense, i.e. colonized cultural
objects and bodies. It starts from the premise that the underlying challenges can
only be addressed through the interplay of different lenses: justice, ethics, and
human rights. It illustrates how colonial agents reinvented social and scientific
narratives to justify takings throughout different periods of colonial history and
shows synergies with contemporary arguments advanced in the discourse on res-
titution and return, including the re-construction of identities through restitution
processes. It explains the dual role of law, as imperial tool and language, and as
instrument of resistance and transformation. It points out blind spots in cultural
heritage law and new ways to deal with colonial heritage, drawing on collabora-
tive practices, experiences with successful returns, and synergies with transitional
justice concepts. It proposes a relational cultural justice approach to overcome im-
passes, which have created stalemate and impeded dialectical engagement. It does
not portray restitution or return as golden standard for all objects. It rather places
3 Humboldt Forum, Keynote speech by Chimamanda Adichie (22 September 2021) https://www.
humboldtforum.org/en/programm/digitales-angebot/digital-en/keynote-spreech-by-chimamanda-
adichie-32892/.
4 Molemo Moiloa, Reclaiming Restitution: Centering and Contextualizing the African Narrative
the emphasis on the need to search forms of consent in relation to ownership, pres-
entation, or conservation, based on the nature of objects, structural injustice, and
contemporary relations. The core idea of the relational model is to foster new col-
laborative relationships between holding institutions, countries, or communities
of origin and local stakeholders. It argues at the same time that contemporary en-
gagement should not be reduced to issues of return, but identifies strategies and
remedies beyond restitution.
A key part of the manuscript is devoted to micro-histories, biographies, or
‘necrographies’ of objects. They often speak for themselves. They illustrate the
narratives of takings, unexpected twists and turns in the lives of objects, different
ontologies, and forms of encounter. These stories do not only offer fascinating in-
sights about colonial politics, world history, or the branding of art forms, but also
offer new ways to understand the ways in which racial science and market forces
influenced the shaping of international law.
The study challenges the argument that all takings of cultural objects qualify as
looted art or theft. But it also questions the premise that colonial acquisitions were
lawful, simply because they involved some type of consent, exchange, or compen-
sation. It relies on the concept of entanglement to recognize these complexities.
It argues that legality should be regarded as a spectrum, with different degrees of
legality or illegality (‘entangled legalities’), and develops principles of relational
justice to disentangle these dichotomies. It illustrates some of the risks and blind
spots of current return practices, such as the dominant focus on spectacular ob-
jects or continuing double standards in relation to natural history objects.
Major parts of the text were written during the Covid-19 pandemic. They are
not only inspired by interdisciplinary scholarly perspectives, but by many virtual
seminars, podcasts (e.g. ‘Stuff the British Stole’), and news platforms, such as the
invaluable ‘Restitution Matters’ project, open access sources (e.g. Kwame Opoku’s
entries on Modern Ghana), and actual and virtual conversations with friends and
colleagues. It takes into account developments until March 2023.
I wish to thank Ingrid Samset from Leiden University College for her careful
reading and invaluable comments and Charlotte Perez for her critical editorial
reading. I also wish to express my gratitude to colleagues from the Leiden Cultural
Heritage Centre (Pieter ter Keurs, Evelien Campfens), the Grotius Centre for
International Legal Studies, and Queen’s University Belfast, and our students for
inspiring discussions and exchange of ideas. Particular thanks are also owed to
Francesco Francioni and Ana Filipa Vrdoljak for including this work in the Series
on Cultural Heritage Law and Policy, to Nicola Prior for her careful copy-editing,
and to colleagues at OUP (Merel Alstein, Robert Cavooris, and Lane Berger) for
making this book a reality.
The work is made available open access in order to enable broad engagement by
readers and audiences in all parts of the globe. It is not only geared towards experts,
but is meant to encourage discussion on the responsibilities and moral choices we
viii Preface and Acknowledgements
face in our daily actions when we encounter contested objects. I hope it will not be
the end or the beginning of the end, but rather the end of the beginning of a more
open, equal, and transparent discourse on ways to confront entangled objects, and
a means to translate new visions into action. It is dedicated to my mother, who ex-
plored the fascination of different heritage traditions in her travels and exposed me
to new worlds.
The Hague, March 2023
Preface to Carsten Stahn’s book
This book is a timely and important contribution to the current debate on the im-
pact of colonialism and of de-colonization on the legal status of cultural property
and on the difficult issue of reparation and restitution of objects obtained by war,
colonialism, and coercion from colonized peoples. In the past twenty years this
theme has attracted vast and increasing attention on the part of scholars, museums,
media, collectors, and experts in provenance research. Important museums of the
world have been facing increasing scrutiny from media, academics, and law en-
forcement officials over the extent to which their collection may include cultural
objects looted during the colonial period. This has produced unprecedented reac-
tions at the political level—such as the commitment undertaken in 2017 in a public
speech by the French President Macron to inaugurate a policy of gradual return to
African countries of cultural objects removed during the colonial period and now
part of the collections of national museums. As we know, this political pronounce-
ment has been followed by the influential Rapport Savoy/Sar sur la restitution du
patrimoine africaine. This move has been followed by the adoption by important
museums in Europe and the United States of plans intended to root out looted arte-
facts in their collections.
In this climate of changing cultural mores, this book addresses the topic through
the lens of three interrelated legal-theoretical contexts: justice, ethics, and human
rights. In this multidisciplinary perspective, the author raises the important ques-
tion of whether the Western legal and social construct that defines the concept of
cultural property and its relation to society may be shared, or may even be compat-
ible, with the cultural understandings and legal traditions of the colonized people.
The answer is, obviously, a negative one. Hence also a negative evaluation of the
role played by international law in legitimizing the mass appropriation of cultural
objects by the colonizing powers. But the most important question that remains to
be answered concerns the role that international law can play today in remedying
past injustices and ensuring the return of cultural objects wrongly removed from
colonial territories. Today, international law provides a framework of multilat-
eral instruments designed to facilitate the restitution or return of cultural objects
illegally removed from their country of origin. However, as we well know, these
instruments—such as the 1970 UNESCO Convention and the 1995 UNIDROIT
Convention—are not technically capable of addressing the restitution of colonial
x Preface to Carsten Stahn’s book
loot because they have no retroactive effect. However, this formal legal obstacle to
the application of the above instruments to colonial loot does not relieve us from
the duty to remedy past cultural injustices that continue to display their harmful
effects in present time. This is what the author of this book successfully attempts to
do through the lens of justice, ethics, and human rights.
Francesco Francioni and Ana Filipa Vrdoljak
Contents
1. C
onfronting Colonial Heritage: Introducing Entanglements,
Continuities, and Transformations 1
2. E
xpanding Empire: Curiosity, Power, and Prestige 61
3. C
ollecting Mania, Racial Science, and Cultural Conversion
through Forcible Expeditions 120
4. T
he Scramble for Cultural Colonial Objects: Other Types
of Acquisition 182
5. C
ollecting Humanity: Commodification, Trophy Hunting, and
Bio-colonialism 237
6. L
aw’s Complicity in Cultural Takings and Colonial Violence:
Double Standards, Discursive Silencing, and Social Transformation 286
7. C
olonial and Post-colonial Continuities in Culture Heritage
Protection: Narratives and Counter-narratives 345
8. A
cknowledging the Past, Righting the Future: Changing Ethical
and Legal Frames 414
9. B
eyond to Return or Not to Return: Towards Relational
Cultural Justice 478
Index 537
Table of Contents
Index 537
Table of Cases
NATIONAL CASES
Australia
High Court of Australia, Mabo and Others v Queensland (No. 2) [1992] HCA 23;
(1992) 175 CLR 1����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������293n.63, 293n.65
Canada
Federal Court (Canada) Hamlet of Baker Lake v Minister of Indian Affairs
and Northern Development, (1979) 107 DLR (3d), 513���������������������������������288–89n.21
Supreme Court, R. v Marshall; R. v Bernard, [2005] 2 S.C.R. 220, 2005 SCC 43������� 319n.245
Colombia
Republic of Colombia, Constitutional Court, Judgment SU-649/17,
19 October 2017������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 117n.328
France
High Court of Paris, Survival International V. Nret-Minet, Tessier & Sarrou,
RG No.: 13/52880, 12 April 2013, in (2013) 20 International Journal of
Cultural Property 460–465������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 402n.446
Germany
Constitutional Court for the State of Baden-Württemberg, Nama Traditional
Leaders Association, Order, 1 VB 14/19, 21 February 2019 ������������� 453n.323, 453n.328
Ireland
Supreme Court, Webb v Ireland, 1 January 1988, [1988] I.R. 353������������������������������� 458n.358
Italy
Council of State (Consiglio di Stato), Case No. 3154, Associazione nazionale
Italia Nostra Onlus c. Ministero per i beni e le attività culturali et al.,
23 June 2008 ������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 229n.312, 229n.314
Regional Administrative Tribunal of Lazio, Associazione Nazionale Italia Nostra
Onlus v Ministero per i Beni le Attività Culturali et al., No. 3518, 28 February
2007 in (2007) 17 Italian Yearbook of International Law 277–280.������������������� 374n.213
Namibia
High Court of Namibia, Bernadus Swartbooi v The Speaker of the National Assembly,
Case No. HC-MD-CIV-MOT-REV-2023/00023, Founding Affidavit,
20 January 2023 ������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 507n.197
xx Table of Cases
Netherlands
Hague Court of Appeal, Children of executed men in South-Sulawesi v
The Netherlands, Case No. 200.243.525/01, 1 October 2019������������������������������� 462n.386
Hague Court of Appeal, Heirs Java torture victim v The Netherlands,
Case No. 200.247.634/01, 1 October 2019������������������������������������������������������������� 462n.386
New Zealand
Privy Council, Nireaha Tamaki v Baker (1900–01) [1840–1932] NZPCC 371����������� 291n.41
Supreme Court, Wi Parata v Bishop of Wellington (1877) 3 NZ Jur. (NS) SC 72. ������� 290n.38
Waitangi Tribunal, ‘Turanga Tangata, Turanga Whenua: The Report on the
Turanganui a Kiwa Claims’, Vol. II, Chapter 10, ‘Te Hau ki Turanga’
(Wellington 2004) 587–607������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������184n.8
UK
British Court of Vice-Admiralty at Halifax, ‘The Marquis de Someruelos’,
21 April 1813, in James Stewart, Reports of Cases, Argued and Determined in
the Court of Vice-admiralty at Halifax in Nova-Scotia (London: Butterworth
and Son, 1814) 482–486������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 460n.377
High Court of Justice, Attorney General v Trustees of the British Museum,
[2005] EWHC 1089, 27 May 2005 ������������������������������������������������������������������������� 427n.101
Privy Council, Mohegan Indians v Connecticut, Proceedings Before
Commission of Review 1743 (1769) 191����������������������������������������������������������������� 292n.54
Privy Council, Report of the Committee for hearing of Appeals from the Plantations
touching ye Mohegan Indians Lands, 21 May 1706, Privy Council Records,
Public Records Office 2/81, 204–205����������������������������������������������������������������������� 292n.52
Privy Council, Re Southern Rhodesia, 26 July 1918 (1919) A.C. 211, 221 �������������288–89n.21
US
Commonwealth of Massachusetts Appeals Court, Lanier v President and
Fellows of Harvard College, Motion for Direct Appellate Review by
Supreme Judicial Court, No. 2021-P-0350, 12 May 2021������������������������������������ 506n.190
Commonwealth of Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court, No. SJC-13138,
Lanier v Harvard, Amicus Brief, Dan Hicks and David Mirzoeff,
11 October 2021������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 505n.184
District Court for Columbia, Deadria Farmer-Paellmann and Restitution Study
Group v Smithsonian Institution, Emergency Motion for Temporary
Restraining Order and Preliminary Injunction, Civil Case No. 1:22-cv-3048,
7 October 2022��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 510n.224
Middlesex County Superior Court, Lanier v President and Fellows of Harvard
College, Civil Action No. 1981CV00784, 1 March 2021��������������������������������������� 506n.186
Supreme Court, Beecher v Wetherby, 95 U.S. 517 (1877)����������������������������������������������� 290n.33
Supreme Court, Lone Wolf v Hitchcock, 187 U.S. 553 (1903)����������������������������������������� 290n.32
Supreme Court, United States v Wheeler, 435 U.S. 313 (1978)��������������������������������������� 293n.60
Supreme Court, Worcester v Georgia 31 U.S. 515 (1832).��������������������������������290n.31, 293n.61
US Court of Appeals, Ninth Circuit, Bonnichsen v United States,
367 F.3d 864 (2004) ������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 380n.260
US Court of Appeals, United States v Kramer, 168 F.3d, 1196 (10th Cir., 1999)������� 408n.494
US Court of Claims, Zuni Tribe of N.M. v United States, 12 Cl. Ct. 607 (1987)������� 408n.498
Table of Cases xxi
INTERNATIONAL CASES
§ 1.4��������������������443n.237, 455n.345 UK
§ 2����������������������������������������� 455n.344 An Act to provide for the preservation
§ 4.2������������������������������������� 449n.287 of Ancient Monuments and
§ 4.3������������������������������������� 449n.288 objects of archaeological,
§ 4.4������������������������������������� 450n.301 historical, or artistic interest,
§ 5.4������������������������������������� 443n.238 Act No. VII of 1904,
18 March 1904������������������������ 333n.350
New Zealand Arts Council, Restitution and
Announcement of New Zealand’s Repatriation: A Practical
Support for the Declaration on Guide for Museums in England,
the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, August 2022���������������������������������36–37,
20 April 2010��������������������������� 394n.377 36n.213, 45–46, 57–58, 440n.209,
Petition of Natives at Turanga, 8 July 440n.216, 441, 444n.244, 447, 450,
1867, Appendices to the Journals 451, 455, 474n.467
of the House of Representatives, Board of Trustees of the Hunterian
1867, G–1, 2��������������������������������185n.11 Collection, ‘Statement on the
Protected Objects Act, 19 September skeleton of Charles Byrne from
1975��������������������������������� 396, 400n.436 the Board of Trustees of the
Hunterian Collection’,
11 January 2023 ��������������������� 272n.263
Nigeria
British Museum Act 1963,
Notice of Presidential Declaration on 30 September 1963�������������������36n.218,
the Recognition of Ownership 114–15, 516, 517n.261
and an Order Vesting Custody s 3(1)��������������������������������������������� 516n.257
and Management of Repatriated s 5(1)��������������������������������������������� 516n.258
Looted Benin Artefacts in the s 5(1)(c)��������������������������������������� 516n.259
Oba of Benin Kingdom, Federal British Museum policy, Deaccession
Republic of Nigeria Official of objects from the collection,
Gazette, Vol. 110, No. 57 (28 approved by the Trustees of the
March 2023) British Museum, 29 September 2018
Art. 8(b)������������������������������������������490n.74 § 2(1) ����������������������������������������������427n.98
Art. 8(e)������������������������������������������491n.76 § 3(2) ����������������������������������������������427n.99
Charities Act 2022,
Ottoman Empire 24 February 2022 �����������������������517–18
Decree Mehmet Ali Pasha, s 15����������������������������������������������� 517n.264
15 August 1935��������������������������������� 330 s 16����������������������������������������������� 517n.263
Deed of Gift and Declaration of Trust
South Africa on behalf of the University in
respect of the Anthropological
South Africa, Department of Collection offered to the
International Relations and University by Major-General
Cooperation, Thabo Mbeki, Augustus Henry Lane Fox
Speech 9 August 2002 ��������������������� 271 Pitt Rivers, Oxford University
Gazette, 13 May 1884����������������133n.81
Southern Rhodesia Despatch from Consul-General
Land Apportionment Act, 1930�������334–35 Moor to the Marquess of
Legislative Council of Southern Salisbury, Benin City,
Rhodesia, Ancient Monuments 24 February 1897 ������������������ 168n.295,
Protection Ordinance, 1902 ����������� 334 169n.300, 303n.125
Legislative Council of Southern Edmund Burke, Speech on The
Rhodesia, Bushmen Relics Impeachment of Warren
Protection Ordinance, 1911 ����������� 334 Hastings, February 1788����������������� 296
xxxii Table of Instruments
Tipu’s Tigers (London: V&A Publishing, 2009); Arthur W. J. G. Ord-Hume, ‘Tipu’s Tiger: Its History and
Description’ (1987) 3 Music and Automata 21–31, 64–80. On Tipu Sultan, see G. A. Henty, The Tiger of
Mysore: A Story of the War with Tippoo Saib (London: Blackie & Son, 2001, 1896).
2 Cultural objects are typically defined by their significance to states, individuals, non- state
entities, or groups. See Christa Roodt, ‘Restitution of Art and Cultural Objects and Its Limits’ (2013)
Confronting Colonial Objects. Carsten Stahn, Oxford University Press. © Carsten Stahn 2023.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192868121.003.0001
2 Confronting Colonial Objects
pose intriguing questions about the self-understanding of modern society, its rela-
tion towards the past and contemporary identity and the role of international law
itself in colonial encounters. The depiction of the object tells a more complex story
about the dynamics of local and colonial rule in South-east Asia, the diverse nature
of colonial violence, rivalry among colonial powers, and the transformation of the
meaning of cultural objects over time.
The artefact blurs boundaries between subject and object. It was originally com-
missioned in the 1790s by the Tipu Sultan, a Mysore ruler known for his attach-
ment to tigers.3 The object stood as a symbol of his own rule.4 The sultan allied with
France in order to counter expansion of the East India Company in the Anglo-
Mysore wars between 1769 and 1799.5 The tiger became a metaphor of the Sultan’s
46 Comparative and International Law Journal of Southern Africa 286–307, 287. See also Art. 2 of the
UNIDROIT Convention of 24 June 1995 on Stolen or Illegally Exported Cultural Objects (1995) 34 ILM
1332, which refers to objects ‘which, on religious or secular grounds, are of importance for archaeology,
prehistory, history, literature, art or science and belong to one of the categories listed in the Annex’ to
the Convention. On cultural colonial objects, see John Henry Merryman (ed.), Imperialism, Art and
Restitution (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006) Jeannette Greenfield, The Return of Cultural
Treasures (3rd edn, New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007); Ana Vrdoljak, International Law,
Museums and the Return of Cultural Objects (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006); James
A. R. Nafziger and Ann M. Nicgorski, Cultural Heritage Issues: The Legacy of Conquest, Colonization
and Commerce (Leiden: Brill, 2009); Dan Hicks, The Brutish Museums: The Benin Bronzes, Colonial
Violence and Cultural Restitution (London: Pluto Press, 2020); Bénédicte Savoy, Africa’s Struggle for Its
Art: History of a Postcolonial Defeat (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2022); Alexander Herman,
Restitution: The Return of Cultural Artefacts (London: Lund Humphries, 2022); Pierre Losson, The
Return of Cultural Heritage to Latin America (London: Routledge, 2022); Angelika Epple, Thomas
Sandkühler, and Jürgen Zimmerer (eds.), Geschichtskultur durch Restitution? Ein Kunst-Historikerstreit
(Köln: Böhlau Verlag, 2021); Jos van Beurden, Treasures in Trusted Hands (Leiden: Sidestone Press,
2017); Jos van Beurden, Inconvenient Heritage (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2022); Wazi
Apoh and Andreas Mehler, ‘Mainstreaming the Discourse on Restitution and Repatriation within
African History, Heritage Studies and Political Science’ (2020) 7 Contemporary Journal of African
Studies 1–16; Teresa McGuire, ‘African Antiquities Removed during Colonialism: Restoring a Stolen
Cultural Legacy’ (1990) 1990 Detroit College of Law Review 31–70; Evelien Campfens, ‘The Bangwa
Queen: Artifact or Heritage?’ (2019) 26 International Journal of Cultural Property 75–110; Sebastian
M. Spitra, ‘Civilisation, Protection, Restitution: A Critical History of International Cultural Heritage
Law in the 19th and 20th Century’ (2020) 22 Journal of the History of International Law 329–354. See
also generally Francesco Francioni and Ana Vrdoljak, The Oxford Handbook of International Cultural
Heritage Law (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2020).
3 The scene has synergies with the death of the son of Sir Hector Munro, a British General who had
defeated Tipu’s father in the second Anglo-Mysore war (1780–1784). Munro’s son, himself a cadet of
the East India Company, was mauled by a Bengal tiger on Saugor Island near Calcutta in 1792. Colin
Munro, ‘Thus Were the British Defeated’ (2018) 40 London Review of Books 20–21.
4 Tipu allegedly claimed that he preferred to live ‘two days like a tiger’ than ‘two hundred years like
a sheep’. See Alexander Beatson, A View of the Origin and Conduct of the War with Tippoo Sultaun
(London: G. and W. Nicol, 1800) 153–154.
5 He even invited Napoleon Bonaparte to join the struggle against British rule.
Confronting Colonial Heritage 3
The invading army stormed through a breach in the ramparts and, in the ensuing
chaos, Tipu and a great many of his soldiers, generals and the citizens of the town
were killed. The victorious troops then rampaged through the city, looting valu-
ables from the palace and from private houses, until Colonel Arthur Wellesley
(later the Duke of Wellington) gave an order for hanging and flogging which
quickly restored order. The contents of the royal treasury were then valued and
divided between the men of the East India Company Army by the Prize Agents
over the next weeks, in accordance with the conventional practice of the period.
Some time later, the tiger was discovered in the music room of the palace and was
shipped to London, where it arrived in 1800. It was sent to East India House, the
headquarters of the East India Company which housed a library and new mu-
seum, and soon became one of the most popular exhibits.8
When Tipu’s tiger arrived in London, it sparked considerable attention. The tiger
quickly became a sensational object. Placed on British soil and displayed in the East
India House, it became a symbol of British victory over India and the vanquishing
of Britain’s rival France. The object was viewed as an illustration of the brutality of
Tipu’s own rule, rather than as symbol of resistance against colonial violence. This
reading of the image coincided with orientalist conceptions of Indian leaders as
cruel tyrants and a broader fascination in European society with exotic cultures,
warfare, and differences between East and West.
collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O61949/tippoos-tiger-mechanical-organ-unknown/.
4 Confronting Colonial Objects
The British Press presented the ‘musical tiger’ as an illustration of the ‘deep
hatred of Tippoo Saib towards the English nation’, who amused ‘himself with a
sight of this miserable emblematical triumph’.9 An entry of the Penny Magazine of
the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge from 1835 reflects the colonial
propaganda and orientalization of foreign rule, which served as justification for
colonial expansion:
Whether made for Tippoo himself or for some other Indian potentate a century
and a half earlier, it is difficult to convey a more lively impression of the mingled
ferocity and childish want of taste so characteristic of the majority of Asian princes
than will be communicated at once by this truly barbarous piece of music.10
The displacement, public display, and reception changed the status of the object.
Under Tipu’s rule, the tiger was a private possession of the sultan. The act of looting
converted it into a war trophy and public object. It developed into a cultural ref-
erence with historical and cultural significance to multiple audiences. For British
audiences, it marked a symbol of colonial power and victory, which became part of
national identity through reproduction in literary works11 or political cartoons.12
For Indians, it symbolized resistance towards colonial policies.
Nowadays, Tipu’s Tiger represents a cultural icon in its own right. It is a global
object, which is the subject of multiple poems,13 books,14 video clips, podcasts,15
and replica. It carries multiple, and partially, conflicting meanings. In post-colonial
Britain, it is no longer merely a symbol of the victory of colonial rule, but also a re-
minder of the violence of imperial expansion. In India, public opinion remains
divided. For some, Tipu is a powerful illustration of the struggle for independence
from British rule, for others, a reminder of a dark period in history which involved
9 St James’s Chronicle or the British Evening Post, ‘Musical Tyger’ Issue 6605 (17– 19 April
1800) https://www.khanacademy.org/humanities/art-asia/south-asia/x97ec695a:1500-1850-deccan-
south/a/tipus-tiger .
10 See Penny Magazine of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge (15 August
1835) (London: Charles Knight, 1835) 319–320. See also Amal Chatterjee, Representations of India,
1740–1840: The Creation of India in the Colonial Imagination (London: Macmillan, 1998) 174.
11 English Romantic poet John Keats included a reference to Tipu’s Tiger in his satirical poem
‘The Cap and Bells’, after visiting the London offices of the East India Company (‘That little buzzing
noise . . . comes from a plaything of the Emperor’s choice, from a Man-Tiger-Organ, prettiest of his
toys’).
12 Punch, a British weekly magazine, ran a cartoon on ‘The British Lion’s Vengeance on the Bengal
Tiger’ in 1857, which shows a lion attacking a tiger killing a European. It symbolized the defeat of the
Indian Rebellion of 1857 by the East India Company. See Punch, Vol. 33, (22 August 1857) 76–77 http://
www.victorianweb.org/periodicals/punch/53.html.
13 See e.g. Marianne Moore, ‘Tippoo’s Tiger (New York: Phoenix Book Shop, 1967).
14 See supra note 1; Kate Brittlebank, Tiger: The Life of Tipu Sultan (New Delhi: Juggernaut, 2016).
15 See Marc Fennell, Stuff the British Stole, Episode 1, ‘A Tiger and a Scream’ (22 November
2020) https://www.abc.net.au/radionational/programs/stuff-the-british-stole/a-tiger-and-a-scream/
12867626.
Confronting Colonial Heritage 5
repressive local rule, including destruction of temples and churches and killings
during Tipu’s reign as sultan.16
This story highlights the complex problems raised by the treatment of cultural
colonial objects which are treated in this book, i.e. material objects with a cultural
expression17 collected in colonial contexts, namely in externally18 or internally19
colonized societies from the early sixteenth to the twentieth centuries.20 As the
story of Tipu shows, cultures speak to us through their objects. Many cultural co-
lonial objects have a dual nature. They are part of material culture (‘cultural prop-
erty’) and become part of heritage, in the sense that they carry a historical and
symbolic meaning that transcends their origins and evolves over time. Their his-
tory is often connected to violence, domination, or conquest between civilizations,
nations, or communities.21 Cultural objects have been treated in similar narratives
as colonial subjects, such as the ‘exotic’ or the ‘other’. Colonial ideology was me-
diated through material things, including cultural takings. Collection became a
means to classify them. Cultural appropriation persists not only through owner-
ship in the physical sense, but also through control over the contemporary repre-
sentation, meaning or display of objects, or their commercial exploitation. They
are sometimes qualified as ‘orphans’ by curators since their provenance, authors, or
original meanings remain unknown.
16 NDTV, ‘Tipu Sultan Jayanti: Life of “Tiger of Mysore” and Controversy around Him (10 November
2018) https://www.ndtv.com/india-news/tipu-sultan-jayanti-life-of-tiger-of-mysore-and-controversy-
around-him-1945322.
17 Vrdoljak, International Law, Museums and the Return of Cultural Objects, 7, who refers to the
other inside the boundaries of the state which colonized it. It involves intra-state economic and social
domination or exploitation. See generally Robert J. Hind, ‘The Internal Colonial Concept’ (1984) 26
Comparative Studies in Society and History 553.
20 Jos van Beurden uses a narrower definition. He defines them as objects of ‘cultural or historical im-
portance’ that were ‘acquired without just compensation or was involuntarily lost during the European
colonial era’ in order to distinguish them from objects that were regularly purchased or goods which
were specifically produced for European visitors. See Van Beurden, Treasures in Trusted Hands, 39.
21 Margaret M. Miles, Art as Plunder: The Ancient Origins of Debate about Cultural Property
entanglement is not only reflected in colonial violence, but also in science (pale-
ontology, anthropology, archaeology), circulation and trade of cultural objects or
human remains, missionary activity, curatorial policies, knowledge production and
everyday practices (photography,23 imagery).24 The scramble for cultural objects and
human remains complemented the exploitation of primary resources. It was driven
by transnational networks and extended to countries that were not colonial powers
or colonized in the geographical sense.25 Cultural appropriation or exploitation was
not limited to extractive colonial contexts in the Global South, but also occurred in
the Global North (e.g. inuit culture in Greenland, Sámi culture, British–Irish rela-
tions26), albeit on a lesser scale.27 It covered multiple types of objects with cultural
significance: artefacts, human remains, or fossils.28 Many objects were hidden in mu-
seum storage throughout the twentieth century. These shadows of colonial history
affect not only ethnological museums, but all genres of museums and collections.
This book builds on the idea that humans and things constitute each other29 and
that materiality matters for identity. It is in line with the ‘material turn’ in law and
history,30 which seeks to understand human behaviour through the story of objects
Press, 2022).
24 Luis Eslava, Local Space, Global Life: The Everyday Operation of International Law and Development
and the Rise of Modernity: Small Time Agents in a Global Arena (New York: Springer, 2013); Raita
Merivirta, Leila Koivunen, and Timo Särkkä, ‘Finns in the Colonial World’ in Magdalena Naum
and others (eds.), Finnish Colonial Encounters: From Anti-Imperialism to Cultural Colonialism and
Complicity (New York: Springer, 2021) 1–38.
26 The debate on the repatriation of the remains of Irish giant Charles Byrne reflects the ongoing rem-
nants of colonial sensitivities in British-Irish relations. See Thomas L. Muinzer, ‘A Grave Situation: An
Examination of the Legal Issues Raised by the Life and Death of Charles Byrne, the “Irish Giant” ’ (2013)
International Journal of Cultural Property 23–48, 37, who argues that ‘Northern Irish identity within the
context of the United Kingdom’ is ‘robust enough’ to support claims for return based on a ‘community
of origin’ identification. See Chapter 5.
27 See Magdalena Naum and Jonas M. Nordin, ‘Situating Scandinavian Colonialism’ in
Magdalena Naum and Jonas M. Nordin (eds.), Scandinavian Colonialism and the Rise of Modernity
(New York: Springer, 2013) 3–16, 4–5.
28 Paul P. Stewens, Nussaïbah B. Raja, and Emma M. Dunne, ‘The Return of Fossils Removed under
Colonial Rule’ (2022) 8 Santander Art and Culture Law Review 69–94.
29 As Martin Skydstrup has argued, the idea that an ‘intrinsic identity’ is vested in an object, ‘being
forever attached to a social entity -be that a group, community, region or nation -is compromised by the
simple fact that the status of an object is constantly subject to ongoing processes of cultural redefinition’.
See Martin Skrydstrup, ‘Righting Wrongs? Three Rationales of Repatriation and What Anthropology
Might Have to Say About Them’ in Gabriel Mille and Jens Dahl (eds.), Utimut. Past Heritage: Future
Partnership. Discussions on Repatriation in the 21st Century (Copenhagen: Greenland National Museum
and Archives & International Work Group for Indigenous Affairs, 2008) 56–63, 58. On the agency of
objects, see Chris Gosden, ‘What Do Objects Want?’ (2005) 12 Journal of Archaeological Method and
Theory 193–211.
30 See e.g., Neil MacGregor, A History of the World in 100 Objects (New York: Penguin, 2013); Jessie
Hohmann and Daniel Joyce, International Law’s Objects (New York: Oxford University Press, 2018);
Daniel Ricardo Quiroga-Villamarín, ‘Beyond Texts? Towards a Material Turn in the Theory and History
of International Law’ (2021) 23 Journal of the History of International Law 466–500, Carl Landauer, ‘The
Stuff of International Law’ (2021) 31 EJIL 1049–1078. On the material turn in cultural heritage, see
Daniel Miller, Stuff (New York: Wiley, 2009.
Confronting Colonial Heritage 7
and the relations between persons and things. The stories of objects, and their
treatment in legal and institutional frames, serve as a site to understand broader
questions of justice, inequality, and power under international law. Cultural colo-
nial takings involved takings of histories, knowledge, ideas and beliefs through the
removal or conversion of physical things. The role of objects, and their changing
identities shaped not only Western colonial markets, artistic classifications, or the
transformation of institutions, but also the frames and gaps of cultural heritage
law or discourses around the justification of the colonial project itself. Many of the
takings reveal open scars and ongoing effects in contemporary relations.
The term cultural colonial object itself is reductionist. It often reflects a meaning
attached to things as a result of their dislocation or transformation in Western cul-
ture. It is understood in a broad way here, capturing colonized objects and bodies
and the fluidity between personhood and things.31 It includes ‘subject-objects’,32
i.e. objects of religious, cultural, spiritual, historical, or artistic significance which
are associated with subject qualities or human attributes by a nation, society, or
identifiable group. It takes into account that things which appear to be ‘mere’ ob-
jects from the perspective of the Western viewer may be associated with qualities
of personhood33 or spiritual power34 in societies or communities of origin, or be
regarded as subjects (e.g. ancestors or ‘citizens in exile’).35 The notion is at the same
time more flexible than the notion of cultural property’,36 which theorizes items
through the lens of property, possession or ownership relations, or the term ‘cul-
tural heritage’,37 which defines artefacts through their bond to history and identity
31 It is broader than the notion of objects mentioned in Article 1(a)– (k) of the 1970 UNESCO
Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of
Ownership of Cultural Property, 14 November 1970, 823 UNTS 231.
32 On the evolution of subject– object relationship in material culture, see also Friedemann Yi-
Neumann and others (eds.), Material Culture and (Forced) Migration: Materialising the Transient
(London: UCL Press, 2022) 8–11.
33 Many civilizations regard material objects not only as physical objects, but as an embodiment of
the spirit of ancestors and a means to connect to them, which needs to be protected for the benefit
of future generations. Objects may turn into animated subjects through rituals or engagement with
the spiritual power or energy that they embody. See Tular Sudarmadi, Between colonial legacies and
grassroots movements: exploring cultural heritage practice in the Ngadha and Manggarai Region of Flores
(PhD Dissertation, Amsterdam: 2014) 30 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42127428/compl
ete+dissertation.pdf.
34 Souleymane Bachir Diagne has argued that objects do not only present art, but constitute a lan-
Southern Africa’ (2015) 41 Journal of Southern African Studies 653–670, 653, 669.
36 Article 1 of the 1954 Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of
Armed Conflict defines cultural property within the meaning of the Convention as ‘movable or im-
movable property of great importance to the cultural heritage of every people’. It includes objects with
‘artistic, ethnographic, archaeological, or historical value’. See John Henry Merryman, ‘Two Ways of
Thinking about Cultural Property’ (1986) 80 AJIL 831–853, 831. On the diverse understandings, see
Lyndel Prott and Patrick J. O’Keefe, ‘ “Cultural heritage” or “cultural property”?’ (1992) 1 International
Journal of Cultural Property 307–320; Roger O’Keefe, ‘The Meaning of “Cultural Property” under the
1954 Hague Convention’ (1999) 46 Netherlands International Law Review 26–56.
37 The notion of cultural heritage is broader than culture property. Its preservation is linked to the
identity of communities or groups, and their link with the present and future, which is continuously
8 Confronting Colonial Objects
(re)created. The concept includes non-material cultural elements. It has been extended through dif-
ferent international conventions, such as the Convention Concerning the Protection of the World
Cultural and Natural Heritage, 16 November 1972, 1037 UNTS 151, the Convention on the Protection
of the Underwater Cultural Heritage, 2 November 2001, 2562 UNTS 3 or the Convention for the
Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage (17 October 2003) 2368 UNTS 1. See generally Janet
Blake, ‘On Defining the Cultural Heritage’ (2000) 49 International and Comparative Law Quarterly
61–85; Manlio Frigo, ‘Cultural Property v. Cultural Heritage: A “Battle of Concepts” in International
Law?’ (2004) 86 International Review of the Red Cross 367–378; Francesco Francioni, ‘Beyond State
Sovereignty: the Protection of Cultural Heritage as a Shared Interest of Humanity’ (2004) 25 Michigan
Journal of International Law 1209–1228; Craig Forrest, International Law and the Protection of Cultural
Heritage (London & New York: Routledge, 2010).
38 Ruth Redmond- Cooper (ed.), Heritage, Ancestry and Law: Principles, Policies and Practices in
Dealing with Historical Human Remains (Builth Wells: Institute of Art and Law, 2015). On legal protec-
tion, see Ryan M. Seidemann, ‘Bones of Contention: A Comparative Examination of Law Governing
Human Remains from Archaeological Contexts in Formerly Colonial Countries’ (2004) 64 Louisiana
Law Review 545– 588; Jie Huang, ‘Protecting Non- Indigenous Human Remains under Cultural
Heritage Law’ (2015) 14 Chinese Journal of International Law 709–734. For a discussion of return, see
Steven Gallagher, ‘Museums and the Return of Human Remains: An Equitable Solution’ (2010) 17
International Journal of Cultural Property 65–86.
39 Article 12 of UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, GA Resolution 61/295 (13
September 2007) UN Doc A/RES/61/295 (UNDRIP) makes express mention of human remains and
distinguishes them from other cultural property. Under the 1970 UNESCO, human remains may be
covered under different notions: ‘property relating to history’, ‘products of archaeological excavations
or discoveries’, or ‘objects of ethnological interest’.
40 Ingrid Samset, ‘Towards Decolonial Justice’ (2020) 14 International Journal of Transitional Justice
596–607, 607.
41 Carol Ann Dixon, The ‘Othering’ of Africa and Its Diasporas in Western Museum Practices (PhD,
Sheffield: 2016).
Another random document with
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MVELI,
Chief.
SITSHITSHILI,
Chief.
SIBINDI,
Chief.
MANKULUMANA,
Dinuzulu's principal induna.
SIYEKIWE,
Bambata's chief wife.
To show the people that the Government was alive to the necessity of
preventing such crimes, the Police at Nkandhla magistracy
immediately set to work to try and discover the murderer. Everything
that skill or perseverance could accomplish was attempted. But these
exertions did not escape the attention of specially interested parties.
Sergeant Wilkinson, the officer who was in charge of the
investigations, retired to his room about midnight on the 8th of
September. Barely a minute after blowing out his light, two shots were
fired at him through a hole in a window-pane with a revolver. One
struck about eight inches above, and the other under, the bed. Being
very dark, no clue could be got of the would-be murderer, except that
the bullets closely resembled those fired at Sitshitshili. As, except in a
very limited degree, Natives are not allowed to possess firearms, and,
when permitted, almost invariably procure guns, the fact that a
revolver was used on Sitshitshili and Wilkinson at once attracted
general attention.
Orders were now issued by the Government for the country to be
thoroughly patrolled by a strong Natal Police Force, with the object of
restoring public confidence. Some such action was sadly needed,
but, in the opinion of Native loyalists, far wide of the mark. These and
many other people held but one opinion, namely, that Dinuzulu
himself was the fons et origo of all the mischief. If not he, then
puppets directly or indirectly instigated by him or his indunas.
The long dispensation or lease of immunity Dinuzulu had enjoyed
was, however, fast coming to a close. Oppressed with the feeling that
his misdeeds were gradually coming to light, in spite of all his
profound and subtle influence on Zulus in general, in spite, too, of the
terrorizing tactics above referred to or still to be described being
traceable to his kraal, if not to his personal attendants and himself, he
had done his best to enlist the Governor's sympathies on his own
behalf. Those of Sir Charles Saunders he felt he could still count on,
though he failed to give that officer credit for being able to see
through his prevarication, and affectedly innocent pose.
For some months past, rumours to the effect that Bambata's wife and
children were being deliberately harboured by him at his kraal had
come to the notice of the Government. As, however, it was extremely
difficult for any official Native messenger—a European one would
have been hopeless—to obtain information on such point by visiting
Usutu, all that could be done was to mark time and watch
developments.
The opportunity came shortly after the return from his visit to
Pietermaritzburg. He had been asked by Sir Henry McCallum to give
orders for the arrest of any rebels who might find their way to Usutu
and have them conveyed to the local Magistrate. On this Magistrate
subsequently sending a list of eight rebels who had been recently
seen in his ward, Dinuzulu caused five, and another not specially
asked for, to be delivered two weeks later—3rd July.
On the morning of the same day, however, Siyekiwe, the wife of the
notorious rebel Bambata, and two of his children, a girl (about 16)
and a boy (about 14), turned up suddenly at Mahlabatini magistracy,
having, as they declared, left Dinuzulu's kraal the evening before and
travelled through the night. They had deserted, owing to a threat by
Dinuzulu to remove them to a remote region in the north. As the Chief
had led the Government to believe there were no rebels at his kraal,
he determined to rid himself once for all of the woman and children.
They had at length become a nuisance, although he believed, or
professed to believe, his friend Bambata to be still alive. It was owing
to Dinuzulu's not informing Siyekiwe of Bambata's death that she did
not shave her head, as is universally customary among Zulus and
other Natal tribes. The failure to do this was of the greatest
importance in keeping alive the impression among Natives in general
that Bambata was not dead, but roaming about somewhere. If his
favourite wife, the one who had accompanied him in his flight to
Usutu, did not believe in his being dead, no one else would, as she
was not unnaturally looked on as the principal authority in such
matter. Who, they argued, can know better than a woman if her
husband be dead or not? Not the woman, but Dinuzulu appears to be
responsible for the false impression that was circulated far and wide.
When Dinuzulu went to Pietermaritzburg, he had temporarily secreted
the woman and children at a kraal a few miles off. That of a
thoroughly reliable adherent was selected. But as the woman, quite
young and rather good-looking, was not without male friends, she, on
being recalled to Usutu, heard of the scheme, whereupon she made
a plan and speedily got completely beyond Dinuzulu's reach. Then
was the fat in the fire!
The fugitives were passed by the Magistrate to Sir Charles Saunders
who, amazed to hear their numerous revelations, had them conveyed
to Pietermaritzburg, where the whole story was carefully reduced to
writing.
And what was the story? Briefly this. About a month before the attack
on the Police in Mpanza valley (4th April, 1906), and when the Police
were attempting to arrest Bambata for refusing to obey a summons
from the Government, a Native messenger arrived to say Dinuzulu
wished Bambata to come to him, the former having heard he was
unhappy through being harassed by the Government and Europeans
generally. After conferring with members of the tribe until lately
presided over by himself, he left for Usutu, taking with him the woman
and three children (by two other wives). Travelling on foot, the party
reached Usutu in a few days. Here Bambata had several interviews
with Dinuzulu and his indunas, Mankulumana and Mgwaqo. He was
treated with every consideration. Suitable accommodation and food
were found for him, his wife and children. Bambata informed his wife
that, at the interviews he had had with Mankulumana and others, he
had been reproved for showing cowardice on the occasion of the
Police entering his ward to arrest him. It was considered he should
have shown fight. Bambata queried how it was possible for him to go
to war with Europeans. "Have you no people?" they asked. "A few,"
he replied. "Few though they be, you ought to have come into conflict.
What do you suppose caused us to fight in 1879? Do you think we
did so by the aid of drugs?"
The day before Bambata's departure for Natal, he was summoned to
where Dinuzulu, Mankulumana and others were. "The room I was
seated in," says Siyekiwe, "was close by where Dinuzulu was with the
men referred to, and I could hear distinctly what was said. I heard
Mankulumana say to Bambata 'There is nothing more that we have to
say to you to-day. To-day we give you this weapon, a Mauser rifle,
and we say: Go across into Natal and commence hostilities. We give
you Ngqengqengqe, whom we direct to go back with you, also
Cakijana.... After causing an outbreak of hostilities, you will remove
into the Nkandhla district. Do not be afraid through thinking that the
fighting is brought about by you. We, not you, are responsible for it....'
The words I have given were spoken by Makulumana in the presence
of Dinuzulu in an audible voice.... My husband said he hoped that
they would not deceive him, make a fool of him, and deny the fact
that they were the originators of what they wanted him to do. My
husband was also instructed thus: 'After you have started the fighting
and fled for refuge to the Nkandhla forest, we will meet you there.'"
The rifle, said to have been handed to Bambata by Mankulumana in
Dinuzulu's presence, with cartridges done up in a piece of white cloth,
were seen by the three. Bambata then left. Some time afterwards,
Dinuzulu informed the woman that a rebellion had broken out in
Mpanza valley, and that her husband had fled to Nkandhla forest.
When the Commissioner for Native Affairs made his visit to Usutu
early in April, 1906, the woman was there the whole time, carefully
concealed in the harem.[313]
There is no necessity to refer to other items in the story, such as the
visits and harbouring of various rebels, seeing they belong rather to
criminal proceedings than to a history. These proceedings, as well as
the foregoing crucial fact, will be briefly dealt with later. Suffice it to
say, the woman and children had been actually harboured by
Dinuzulu, fed, accommodated and medically treated at his own
expense for a period of over fifteen months. During that period, the
boy was appointed cleaner of the large number of guns possessed by
Dinuzulu, many of them illegally held. And yet the Chief had been
called on officially from time to time to produce all guns in his
possession for registration.
Not long after the woman and children had given their sensational
evidence, the one corroborating the other, they were permitted to
return to their relations at Mpanza.
The position now became clearer, though still complicated.
Sir Henry McCallum's object, when he had his interviews with
Dinuzulu, was so to rouse the Chief to a sense of his duty as to cause
him, on getting back to Usutu, forthwith to put his house in order and
discontinue his unsatisfactory behaviour. We have seen the way in
which he treated the Governor's suggestion about appearing before
the Commission, and what he did about handing over the rebels who
had taken refuge in his ward. Although called on later to deliver up
other rebels, declared by reliable informants to have been recently at
Usutu, he neglected to do so, on the plea that the men had not been
there. The Governor also advised that all firearms in his possession
should be given up. According to the evidence of Bambata's wife and
children, especially the boy, and to other testimony, Dinuzulu
possessed many more guns than had been registered, consequently
he had failed between the time of getting home and when the woman
and children deserted—a period of at least three weeks—to act on
the Governor's advice.[314] What was his object in not wishing to
disclose that he had these unregistered guns? He, moreover, had
held a hunt in August, extending over a fortnight, in the Black
Umfolozi valley, at which, as reliable information went to show, he
secretly inspected about 150 breech-loading rifles in possession of
his people, including his bodyguard, 'Nkomondala.' On the same
occasion, he is said to have told his most confidential advisers "that
he had experienced great difficulty in getting Mauser ammunition, but
that there was not the same difficulty with regard to the ordinary .303
ammunition, as he could get this from agents at Delagoa Bay ... and
was expecting 2,000 rounds from that source, which would be
conveyed to him in bundles of cat-skins, ostensibly brought up from
there by Portuguese Natives for sale amongst the Zulus."[315]
In reply to Dinuzulu's remark that he had not assumed the position of
Government Induna, that being one of the conditions under which he
was repatriated from St. Helena in 1898, the Governor had told him
he would at once be given that position, but such appointment would
necessitate his coming into closer touch with the Magistrate,
Nongoma, than was possible at Usutu. The suggestion that, in
assuming the position, he should move closer to the magistracy was,
however, apparently ignored.
In addition to these unsatisfactory features, was the far graver one of
the murders that had been and were still being committed. Apart from
those of the Magistrate of Mahlabatini, Tshikana, Mnqandi and
Gence, that of Sitshitshili had occurred in August, and the attempted
one of Sergt. Wilkinson early in September. The strongest
representations were made to the Commissioner by many loyal
Natives that "the failure to obtain a conviction against the murderers
of the Magistrate (Mr. Stainbank), or to bring to justice the murderers
of certain Natives, and the belief that these murders had been
instigated by Dinuzulu, were creating a doubt in the minds of loyal
Natives as to the power of the Government to redress such wrongs,
the fear that further murders would be perpetrated with impunity, and
that Dinuzulu, by a course of terrorism, would win over the allegiance
of heretofore loyal Natives, increase his power and independence,
and so bring on another rebellion."[316]
The Police sent to patrol Zululand after Sitshitshili's murder, visited
north-eastern and northern Zululand, and ended by passing by Usutu
on the 30th September. Everywhere the people were quiet and
orderly. The only uneasiness exhibited was when the force, under
Inspector O. Dimmick, got near Usutu. As it approached, many
Natives proceeded to the kraal. Halting some distance off, Dimmick
sent Inspector C.E. Fairlie and two troopers to see Dinuzulu. The
Natives, of whom less than 100 were then seen at the kraal (though
reliable evidence received later showed that many others were
concealed in a donga near by) became disturbed, wondering why an
armed force had come that way. After speaking to Dinuzulu, Fairlie
inspected the kraal. The Police then moved towards Nongoma.
Intelligence was, at the same time, received that Dinuzulu had, two or
three weeks previously, been "doctored for war by a Native doctor,
either from Pondoland or Basutoland," and that certain ceremonies
had been carried out similar to those in vogue in the days of Tshaka.
[317]
An old Boer farmer of Vryheid district, Mr. Conrad Meyer, long a friend
of Dinuzulu, paid the latter a visit in October, when, after several
interviews, he came to much the same opinion as to the Chief's
loyalty as Sir Charles Saunders had so consistently held during 1906.
Whilst the Government, with the foregoing and other facts before it,
was seriously considering what action should be taken, an attempt
was made (7th October) to murder Mapoyisa, principal son and heir
of the Chief Mbuzo, as well as another Native of the same tribe. The
evidence went to show that the two would-be murderers had come
from Usutu kraal. But people had hardly grasped the facts connected
with this attempt when another cold-blooded murder was committed,
this time on an elderly and respected Chief, Mpumela. The lives of
two other loyalists were attempted about the same time (November).
An attempt is also said to have been made on a storekeeper, George,
formerly in the Police. His store, about six miles from Usutu, was
destroyed by fire. It is, however, possible the latter occurrence was
due to lightning.
Information also came in that the ringleaders of the previous year's
rebellion, Mangati and Cakijana, had for long been harboured by
Dinuzulu, although well knowing that warrants were out for their
arrest. The former, captured in November in Vryheid district, stated on
oath that Dinuzulu had been and was still instigating the murders. He
(Dinuzulu), in short, seemed "determined," as the Administrator
pointed out to the Secretary of State in August, "on a course of self-
aggrandizement, of cool defiance or indifference to the wishes of the
Government, and of open hostility to those Natives who had been
loyal; and it was clear that his attitude and actions were becoming a
serious cause of unrest and apprehension amongst the loyal Natives,
and a menace to the peace of the country."
It was in view of all these and other circumstances, too numerous to
refer to, that the Government, supported by the Attorney-General,
ultimately decided to issue a warrant for Dinuzulu's arrest on a charge
of high treason,[318] and to mobilize a large portion of the Militia to
reinforce the Police when proceeding to execute the warrants.
For other reasons, Dinuzulu became very agitated about this time.
The arrival of the Police on the 30th September, and especially their
being stationed at Nongoma, twelve miles from his kraal, greatly
upset him. He contemplated leaving Usutu and establishing himself
on the Black Umfolozi, where the hunt had recently been held. He
dispatched earnest letters to the Governor, Prime Minister, and Under
Secretary for Native Affairs, asking for fair play, expressing
confidence in his rulers, etc.; he followed these up, on the day that
the troops reached Zululand (3rd December), with an urgent
message through the Magistrate, Nongoma, portions of which ran as
follows:
"I have heard that it is the intention of Government to send and take
me by surprise shortly after Christmas.... I do not understand this,
and want to know if there is any truth in it, as I know of no wrong that
I have done. If Government think I am in the wrong over anything,
why does it not place me on trial and punish me if found guilty? I am
also surprised to hear that the court-house at Nongoma has been
placed in a state of defence. Police are camped all round it.... Nothing
is wrong in this division, as far as I know. The only place where things
are wrong is Nkandhla division, and I am not responsible for what
happens there; and in my opinion, ... these murders are being
committed there on account of Government having given cattle which
belonged to rebels to different people in that division, and the original
owners of these cattle resent seeing their cattle in other people's
possession."
In the meantime, however, seeing that the several murders and other
crimes against public order recently committed in Zululand had
caused widespread unrest and fear of violence to law-abiding people,
and as, in order to restore order and confidence, it was imperative to
arrest all persons concerned in the crimes, a proclamation was
issued on the 30th November directing the strengthening of the
forces in Zululand to enable the arrests to be effected. Orders were,
at the same time, issued for the mobilization already referred to of the
greater portion of the Active Militia. The troops actually called out
were 188 officers and 1,928 of other ranks.
There was good reason to suppose that Dinuzulu's immediately
available impi was comparatively insignificant, notwithstanding his
hasty endeavours to augment it under the shallow pretext of the
young men being required to 'weed his gardens.' Such appeals had
been made to Chiefs living outside Zululand, viz. in Vryheid and
Ngotshe districts. Mr. Meyer had reported "one sees at a glance that
he (Dinuzulu) is a man of rank without followers." That the force
dispatched to deal with him was so overwhelmingly strong, was due
solely to the Government's wish to overawe armed rebels or others at
Usutu against all forms of resistance. It was recognized that an
outbreak at Usutu might be taken by the Zulus as the signal for a
general rising. Another reason was that Silwana, a powerful Chief of
Weenen, whose levy, it will be remembered, behaved unsatisfactorily
during the Rebellion, was said to be calling on his people to rebel.
Units mobilized with the same remarkable rapidity that had
characterized their movements in the preceding year, and were
ordered to proceed by rail direct to Gingindhlovu. This station, on the
Zululand coast and nearly twenty miles from Eshowe, was reached
on the evening of the 3rd December.[319] On the same day, martial
law was proclaimed, to operate, however, in Zululand only. Owing to
the sudden, and necessarily sudden, mobilization, no preparation
was made to fill up the places of those who had been called away.
The ex-Commandant (Colonel Bru-de-Wold) was hastily summoned
from Port Shepstone and asked to arrange for the defence of Natal in
the event of hostilities breaking out in Zululand. The necessary
organization was carried out in a thorough-going manner. The
Reserves in sixteen districts (vide Appendix VII.) were called out and
ordered to patrol their respective districts.
As soon as Dinuzulu's message was received, the Government,
although the troops were by then well on their way to Gingindhlovu,
thought it necessary to advise the Chief that there was no intention to
take him by surprise, and that the Chief Commissioner of Police was
being sent "to require him to surrender himself in order that charges
against him might be tried." He was, at the same time, directed to
proceed to Nongoma and there await the police officer.
A communication such as this could not, of course, do otherwise than
bring about confusion among the troops that were concentrating at
Gingindhlovu, through altering elaborate arrangements which had
already been made for their subsequent advance.
The position, from the Government's point of view, was a difficult one,
but with martial law proclaimed, and the troops actually in the field,
the stronger and better course, perhaps, would have been to have
referred Dinuzulu's communication to the O.C. Troops to deal with as
he might have considered necessary under the circumstances. As it
was, his hands were tied, and his plans considerably upset.
That the Ministry were not alone in their desire for settlement of a
trouble inherited to some extent from their predecessors, can be seen
from the following remarks by the Governor, Sir Matthew Nathan, to
the Secretary of State: "Though I am doubtful whether this situation
would have arisen if Ministers had at once, after the suppression of
last year's Rebellion, or even at a later date, adopted the policy of
amnesty and conciliation, and had thereby prevented Dinuzulu from
acquiring the power he has done by protecting outlaws and by reason
of the country remaining unsettled, yet I recognize that, under existing
conditions, with a growing tale of unpunished murders attributed
throughout the country to that Chief, it was not possible for the
Government to remain inactive."[320]
The previous Government had, however, been out of office for over a
year. During such time, the new Government had had, and had taken
advantage of, opportunities of ameliorating the conditions as far as
was possible. More was to follow as soon as time had been given to
introduce some of the legislation recommended by the Native Affairs
Commission. If the Government erred in not declaring an amnesty
sooner, or in not releasing prisoners in larger lots than it did, that
gave Dinuzulu no right to persist in disloyal and treasonable
behaviour. At no moment could a general amnesty have cured such
position as then existed. The fact that such policy had answered in
other parts of the world, or even in Zululand after the 1888
disturbances, cannot be taken as a formula to apply to circumstances
which happen to be similar in a few respects. Had a general amnesty
been attempted sooner than it was, it would have been a blunder and
enabled Dinuzulu, especially as rumours were current in Zululand at
the time that he was going to secure an amnesty, to pose as liberator-
general, although known to be actively and flagrantly disloyal. It
would have been to place a premium on still more serious rebellion in
the future. The only remedy was the one adopted, namely, to remove
the source of mischief once for all. That the Ministers were not
mistaken in the view they took, will be seen further on. As it was,
between July and the issue of the warrants for Dinuzulu's arrest,
some 500 to 600 prisoners had been released, whilst, as soon as the
arrest was made, Ministers decided to release the remainder at short
intervals, 300 at a time.
FOOTNOTES:
[310] Report. Native Affairs Commission, 25th July, 1907.
[311] Deposition by Mgunguluzo, 1st Feb. 1907.
[312] Cd. 3,888, p. 83.
[313] It will be remembered that Mr. Saunders, while at Usutu, got
a telegram saying Bambata had broken into rebellion, and that he
told Dinuzulu this, whereupon the latter and his indunas were,
says the Commissioner, "unanimous in their expressions of
indignation; their frank demeanour left no doubt in my mind that
these expressions were perfectly genuine and that Dinuzulu and
his people were not in any way associated with Bambata and his
doings."—Cd. 3,207, p. 31. And yet the wife and children of the
very man whose acts they had unanimously condemned to the
principal executive officer of the Government were not 100 yards
away as they were speaking!
[314] It was definitely proved later that Dinuzulu was in possession
of unregistered guns at the time of his arrest (December, 1907).
Hence his opportunity of conforming to the Governor's advice
extended over six months.
[315] Minute, C.N.A. to Prime Minister, 23rd Aug. 1907.
[316] Administrator (Mr. W.H. Beaumont) to Secretary of State,
29th Aug. 1907.
[317] Minute by Magistrate, Ndwandwe district, 29th Sept. 1907.
[318] There was also another warrant, charging him with being in
possession of unregistered firearms.
[319] Of the Carbineers, one of the newspapers reported: "They
were the first to get orders ... and in an incredibly short time were
on their way to Zululand. The regiment is to be congratulated on
being referred to in a despatch by the Prime Minister to the
Governor as having performed 'one of, if not the quickest
mobilizations on record.'" Receiving orders to mobilize on the 30th
November, the Headquarters squadrons entrained at 5.15 p.m. on
the 2nd, and reached Gingindhlovu at 5.35 a.m. on the 3rd
December.
[320] Cd. 3,888, p. 182.
XXI.
DINUZULU EXPEDITION.—SURRENDER OF DINUZULU.—
CALLING IN OF FIREARMS.—SEARCHING FOR
OUTSTANDING REBELS.