Looting
of Iraq's antiquities was planned in advance
Daily Telegraph (UK)
(Filed: 20/04/2003)
The plundering of Iraq's antiquities looked like an act of
random vengeance but a new and more sinister picture is emerging.
William Langley reveals that many of the 170,000 missing
artefacts are speeding through the underground art market into
the hands of foreign collectors
It's fast, easy and encouragingly cheap to enter the booming
market in Iraqi antiquities. How about an early Sumerian
glass-beaded necklace for only $24? A 2,000-year-old bronze
arrowhead for $14? Or an ancient cuneiform tablet, moulded from
Mesopotamian clay, and bearing the imprint of a barter deal for
sheep or wine, for $1.25? They can all be found within a few
seconds on ebay and other websites on the internet, and there's
plenty more on the way.
The sacking of Iraq's National Museum last week may at first
have looked like an act of random vengeance against a convenient
emblem of the state. Why else would a people loot their own
history? Especially a people so closely connected to a past of
incomparable richness.
The more the scale of the losses became apparent - at least
170,000 items are missing or destroyed - the less sense it seemed
to make. Who had done it? And what would the plunder be good for
in the slums of Saddam City? Impressing the neighbours?
But even as the world of antiquities reeled from a tragedy
that Paul Zimansky, the eminent American archaeologist, likened
to the burning of the library at Alexandria in classical times, a
new and more sinister picture of what happened in Baghdad was
emerging. It now appears that the looting of the museum was
neither spontaneous nor random. In all probability, it was
planned well in advance of the American-led invasion, and the
thieves almost certainly benefited from inside help.
Interpol and FBI agents who have been brought in to
investigate believe the most valuable pieces were stolen to
order, and are already on their way to Europe, America or Japan.
"The vaults where the best pieces are kept, were opened with
keys," says McGuire Gibson, the president of the American
Association for Research in Baghdad. "Looters coming in off the
streets, don't usually have keys, do they? It appears to have
been a deliberate, planned action. My feeling is that it was
organised abroad."
Witnesses have spoken of seeing well-dressed men with
walkie-talkies at the scene, and of artefacts being transported
away in orderly convoys of vans rather than over the heads of the
crowd. "We already have reports of exhibits being offered for
sale in Switzerland and Japan," says Karl-Heinz Kind, Interpol's
specialist officer for art and antiquity trafficking. "Even in a
war zone, even with the country practically sealed off, these
things can move with incredible speed."
Last night Jordanian custom officers reported that they had
confiscated some exhibits looted from the Iraqi National Museum,
the first stolen items to be recovered. But the rescued artefacts
were merely 41 photographs and four oil paintings of Saddam
Hussein.
To those familiar with the sophisticated international market
in stolen antiquities, the wholesale plundering and rapid
dispersal of a great museum's contents is all too credible.
"Archaeological and cultural organisations had been warning of
attacks like these for months," says Dr Neil Brodie, of the
Illicit Antiquities Research Centre in Cambridge. "But it seems
nobody was listening."
Long before the latest war began, millions of pounds worth of
Iraq's ancient treasures were quietly flooding each year into the
hands of Western and Far Eastern collectors. There is a sad irony
in this, for if Saddam Hussein could boast of one good thing in
the course of his 30-year dictatorship it was his vigorous early
programme to protect the nation's cultural heritage.
Soon after Saddam's Ba'athists came to power in 1967, harsh
laws were passed to prevent the export of antiquities. "And they
worked," says Richard Zetter, of the University of Pennsylvania,
a leading authority on Mesopotamian history. "Virtually nothing
was allowed out, money was put into museums, and we all applauded
and considered it a model for the region."
But after the first Gulf War in 1991, the weakening of
Saddam's grip on power - at least beyond his Baghdad and Tikrit
strongholds - and the dire economic circumstances in the country
began to render the laws far less effective. Regional museums and
important archaeological sites around the country became easy
prey for thieves, whose booty was spirited out of the country by
highly organised gangs, which developed around the trade. "After
the Gulf War," says Mr Zetter, "smuggling became a profession."
In the West, where Iraqi antiquities had a long-standing cachet,
a ready market was waiting.
There was more. Preoccupied by the business of staying in
power, Saddam lost interest in history - except for his own place
in it. Money for museums dried up, many of the archaeological
sites were effectively abandoned, and the scholars and curators
at the heart of the nation's conservation programme gave up the
struggle. "Their cars were commandeered," says Mr Zetter, "their
telephones didn't work, their salaries were frozen. People just
drifted away from antiquities."
To make limited resources stretch further, thousands of
antiquities were moved from small provincial museums to Baghdad
in the unfortunate belief that they would be safer.
In recent years Saddam's own officials appear to have given
the stamp of approval to the lucrative business of selling
antiquities abroad. Last year a large sculptural frieze,
originating from a 3,000-year-old Assyrian palace in north
eastern Iraq, weighing more than a tonne and measuring more than
six feet square turned up for sale on the British market. Art
experts believe it unlikely that such a major piece could have
been exported without the acquiescence of someone in
authority.
Julian Radcliffe, the chairman of the Art Loss Register, the
organisation which indentified the frieze, says: "There may have
been theft from Iraqi museums by their own government working
with the staff or by criminal elements working with the staff.
Curators have often been worried about keeping the roof on the
building of the museums they work in and desperately need the
money to pay for it."
It is hoped that the frieze will end up back in Iraq in due
course. In the meantime, a group of nine archaeologists from the
British Museum are being drafted in to help the salvage and
recovery operation at the Baghdad museum. "We are uniquely placed
to do something to help our Iraqi colleagues," says Neil
MacGregor, the British Museum's director. It is clear that a
catastrophe has befallen the cultural heritage of Iraq,"
And the devastation continues. The latest target of the looters
is the museum at Nebuchadnezzar's palace - home of the hanging
gardens of Babylon, one of the wonders of the ancient world.
Thieves smashed their way in through a brick wall, stealing
statues, vases, burial masks and relics of the ancient Babylonian
kings.
The galleries were completely stripped, and the floors left
littered with broken glass and debris. Ahmed Mansour, 37, who
lives nearby said: "This is one of the greatest archaeological
sites in the world. I cannot believe that people would want to
steal from it. They have no respect for our ancient culture and
they do not care about the future of Iraq."
Horrified by the scale of the plundering, many Iraqis are
blaming the US troops for not mounting an effective guard on the
museums - and they are not alone. Last week three advisers on
cultural affairs to President George W Bush resigned in protest
at the alleged failure of the US forces to protect Iraq's
treasures. "This tragedy was not prevented due to our nation's
inaction," wrote Martin Sullivan, the chairman of the White House
Cultural Property Advisory Committee, in a resignation
letter.
Others are less inclined to blame weary and wary young
Marines, freshly arrived in a conquered capital that they had
expected might lay on a bloodbath.
Behind the looting of the National Museum lies a triumph of
street smartness over military intelligence. The Pentagon may
have been unsure how the battle for Baghdad would play out, but
the local gangs, flush with orders from wealthy overseas
collectors, seem to have anticipated that the city's fall would
be swift and made their plans accordingly.
Certainly Koichiro Matsuura, the director general of Unesco,
the United Nations educational and cultural agency, knows whom to
blame. "It is those bandits who looted their own heritage," he
said, at a meeting of 30 Iraqi and world antiquities experts in
Paris. "These were conditions of confusion and turmoil, and they
took full advantage."
Even as he was speaking, the lost treasures of Iraq - a
5,000-year trove of learning and beauty - were speeding through
the channels of the underground art market into the hands of
foreign collectors. If the prices seem reasonable it's because
there is plenty to go around.
© Copyright of Telegraph Group Limited 2003.
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