Timesuck with Dan Cummins - Short Suck #55: Stolen History: The British Museum Debate

Episode Date: April 10, 2026

The British Museum is one of the world’s greatest treasure houses—home to over eight million artifacts spanning human history. But behind its incredible collection lies a complicated legacy of empire, conquest, and controversy that raises a difficult question: who should really own the past? For Merch and everything else Bad Magic related, head to: https://www.badmagicproductions.com Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

In Ryan Coogler's 2018 blockbuster hit film, Black Panther, the supervillain Eric Kilmonger goes to a fictional museum, clearly very closely based on a very real museum. The Museum of Great Britain, which is the British Museum. While there, he meets with curator of African art. Kilmonger challenges a curator on her introduction of one of the African objects, asserting that, quote, it was taken by British soldiers in Benin,

but it's from Oconda, a fiction. African nation in the film, and it's made of vibranium, a fictional metal. He further astonishes the curator when he casually says that he will take it off her hands. The curator declares, these items aren't for sale. Kilmonger then asks, how do you think your ancestors got these? You think they paid a fair price? Or did they take it like they took everything else? While superhero movies are known for pretty outlandish plot lines oftentimes,

in this case, not that far off at all. In the mid-19th century, the British really did loot hundreds of pieces of important cultural history from the Kingdom of Benin after a bloody siege. And those objects remain in the British Museum to this day. And they are far from the only ones. Currently, its permanent collection of more than 8 million works is the largest in the world. Since its foundation in 1753, the British Museum has sought to be something more than a collection of dusty books. and specimens where scholars might come to look something up, but where the average person would never go.

Thanks to donations from wealthy patrons, it was able to grow and grow and grow until it became one of the richest repositories of cultural and scientific knowledge in the world, featuring everything from natural specimens taken from far-off ecosystems to ancient sculptures. And that knowledge has been shared with many, many people. Just last year, in 2025, the museum received nearly six point

5 million visitors making it the second most visited attraction in the UK. And like all United Kingdom National Museums, it charges no admission fee except for loan exhibitions. Very, very cool. When I was a broke college student studying in London for a semester in the late 90s, I went there often and saw a lot of cool shit for free. But not as cool. The wealthy donors who built the museum didn't get everything I got to see in the most ethical of ways. As Britain's power grew, as it amassed more and more colonial possessions, its collections grew as well. Some as a direct result of bloodshed and as a result of a lot of people feeling like they were titled just to take whatever they felt like taken from the cultures they dominated

and or destroyed. In more recent years, the leaders of a lot of the cultures, former colonies and current countries where these artifacts were taken from have asked for those artifacts back, saying that they're important parts of their cultural history. Sometimes, even sacred to their religions. But the British Museum has turned down nearly every single request, alleging that they are the ones who should have the artifacts for a variety of reasons, including the overall safety and preservation of those artifacts and the fact that those artifacts due to how long many of them were taken, you know, long ago, that they're now a part of British history.

So what is the right thing to do now? Should the artifacts be returned? How do we deal with all the good shit we got as a result of bad shit we did now that we know it was bad shit? Do we do relatively nothing? Do we acknowledge that conquest is just a natural part of human life? Just let stuff stay wherever it is wind it up? Should the victors still get to keep all their spoils? Or should we evolve past that mentality and do what's quote unquote the right thing?

Words and ideas can change the world. I hated her, but I wanted to love my mother. I have a dream. I'll plead not guilty right now. Your only chance is to leave with us. So how exactly did the British Museum get all that stuff? How does any museum get its stuff? Currently, while each museum has its own procedures for accessioning, a fancy word for getting shit,

accessioning, accessioning. In most cases, it begins with either an offer for, from a donor to give an object to a museum or a recommendation from a curator to acquire an object through purchase or trade. But back in the day before, museums were widely able to trade things when information technology, not nearly as good as it is now, donations by rich people who knew that their deadbeat, dip shit, freeloading kids were going to appreciate what they work so hard to build, usually made up most of a museum's collection when they donated it. And one way to look at the gifting is that by donating their stuff, these rich people,

people were being very charitable. I mean, they could have just sold it all before they died. They could have willed it to a mistress. They could have burned it. They could have burned it because they knew that no one could stop them. And they just thought that would be funny. Maybe they could have just roasted some hot dogs or marshmallows on a fire being fueled with the only known musical instruments from Mesopotamia in existence.

Maybe make some smores from a fire being burned with Shakespeare's manuscripts. But instead of hoarding all that valuable stuff for their descendants or selling it to make themselves richer or having some kind of insane bonfires, they gave it to a trusted organization that could maintain it, study it, presented it to the public to people who wouldn't have had access to it otherwise. I'm sure we all have stories about a time we went to a museum, either as a kid or as an adult and saw something that truly felt life-changing, whether it was a famous work of art or a skeleton of a dinosaur.

I've had that experience, seeing Leonardo, and yes, I am, actually before I move on, Yes, I am hearing dinosaur bones. Where can you see? It's in my head right now. But I have had that experience. Seeing Leonardo DiCaprio or, oh my God, Leonardo DeCaprio. You know, I saw Leonardo DiCaprio. It changed my fucking life.

No, I saw Leonardo da Vinci's Virgin of the Rocks. This painting up close. And it made me realize for the first time how important art is. How can make you feel. But now I kind of wish my story did revolve around Leonardo DiCaprio. Many of us probably feel grateful to museums for showing stuff that we wouldn't have been able to see otherwise, like Leonardo DiCaprio, obviously. Because without museums, there simply might be no way to see it. Museums are great for this exact reason.

They democratize some of the most important relics of human history. But there's another way to look at all this, though. And that begins with the fun fact that people don't always acquire stuff in the most ethical of ways. How did they get Leonardo DiCaprio? Do they kidnap him? For real, though, especially back in the day before countries had regulations about who could dig up what and where, who could take things from place to place, if something inherently belonged to a country or people. One option for acquiring items was simply just to take that shit from wherever you found it. Another option was to buy it from a collector who had, well, probably taking it.

Third option was to offer some amount of money, probably a lot less than it was worth to any person who had, quote, found it. Oftentimes, someone who didn't know its exact value or needed the money at a desperation or hardship. someone who was, you know, wildly taken advantage of. And so a second way to view the phenomena of rich people donating to museums is that the museum benefits from these less than ethical buyers without having to have done any of the dirty work themselves. The British Museum, perhaps the most famous example of this in the world. And to reveal why, let's go back to its beginning.

The British Museum was founded in 1753 by Sir Brett Esch Museum. No, that's absurd and corny. No, an act of parliament. Created the world's first free national public museum that opened its doors to quote all studious and curious persons in 1759. Is that not the most old-school British phrasing ever? Who is this museum for? Why, it is for all the studious and curious persons said. Okay, easy, Pip.

How would you try that again but not sound like Batman's Butler? Though today the British Museum is a typical museum, primarily housing art objects, and antiques. Back then it was intended to be a, quote, universal museum, aka a place where anything neat and cool, whether man-made or natural, could wind up. This was due to the museum's first donor, naturalist, an Anglo-Irish physician, Hans Sloan, during the course of his lifetime, and particularly after he married the widow of a wealthy Jamaican planner and grabbed himself a big old pile of money that somebody else made. Sloan gathered a large collection of curiosities, and not wishing to see his collection broken up after his death,

he bequeathed it to King George II for the nation of England for the sum of 20,000 pounds. Inflation calculators will say that that amount is equivalent to about 4 million pounds today, but there's no way that's accurate. I bet it's more like the equivalent of five to 10 times that amount in terms of the current value of these curiosities. At the time, Sloan's collection consisted of around 71,000 objects of all kinds,

including some 40,000 printed books, 7,000 manuscripts, extensive natural history specimens, including 337 volumes of dried plants, prints, and drawings, and various artifacts from Sudan, Egypt, Greece, Rome, the ancient near and far east, and the Americas. Sloan died in 1753, and his donation created the need for a museum to showcase all that shit, which King George II gave his royal assent for on June 7th. 1753.

Ascent. I feel like that's a stuffy word in this context. Will you allow it, my lord? Yes, after careful consideration, I do assent, peasant. After King Georgie's assent, the body of trustees decided on a converted 17th century mansion, Montague house,

sounds like a good name for a mansion, as a location for the museum, which it bought from the Montague family, of course, for 20,000 pounds. The trustee's rejected Buckingham House, which later was converted into the present-day Buckingham Palace on the grounds of cost and the unsuitability of its location. With the acquisition of Montague House, the first exhibition galleries and reading room for scholars opened on January 15, 1759. Man, how cool for those scholars? Back in the days way before the Internet, or documentaries, or even magazines with photographs like National Geographic, you know, allowing you to preview curiosity. from all around the world.

Those scholars were now able to go see shit. They had truly not in literally any form ever seen before. At the same time, the largest parts of the collection were the library, or excuse me, at that time, the largest parts of the collection was a library, which took out the majority of the rooms on the ground floor and the natural history objects, which took up an entire wing on the first floor. And though it was a free and open to the public museum, the first museum of its kind in that way,

it actually wasn't really truly free and open to the public, not like it became later. For starters, the creators envisioned it as a sort of stopping point for visitors visiting foreign dignitaries or other important people, not as a resource for the general public.

Get out filthy peasants! You're tracking in dirt! You smell horrible! And, well, we just don't like being reminded of your existence. It's depressing. Initially, visitors had to apply for tickets to see the museum's collections during very limited visiting hours.

In effect, this meant entry was restricted to well-connected visitors, who were given personal tours of the collections by the museum's trustees and curators. Filthy, Oliver twist urchin types never seemed to get an invite. However, shortly after its inception, you could argue that there wasn't much to see to the uneducated eye anyway. After all, most working-class people were not likely to want to go in there and crack open a book

or look at a dusty specimen. They were too busy working, fucking. seven days a week or dying to syphilis and fucking dysentery and malnutrition or dumping their literal shit into Thames. The museum continued on like that for several years. During the first few years after its foundation, the museum received more donations, including the Thomason Collection of Civil War Tracks

and David Garrick's Library of a thousand printed plates, which the peasants probably also not really interested in. About half of the peasants literally couldn't even read at that time in London. So works like that would have been lost on them. But then the museum, would get a gift that would change its trajectory. And it would go from being a big, dusty library, to like a real museum. In 1772, the museum acquired its first significant antiquities,

Sir William Hamilton's initial collection of Greek vases. Greek vases. Beginning in the 1760s, Hamilton had been the envoy extraordinary to the kingdom of the two Siciles. That is quite a fucking title. Anvoy extraordinary to the kingdom of the two Sicily. He said, da-da-da-da-da-da. Basically, he was an ambassador to Italy, and his duties were simple.

Send reports back to the Secretary of State every 10 days or so, promote Britain's commercial interests in Naples, and, you know, keep an open house for English travelers to Naples. And that left him plenty of time to pursue his real passion, jerking off in the hills surrounding Florence, while peeping on young Italian couples making love. No, sorry, that was a throwback to an older episode. What I should have said was, collecting art and antiquities.

he would obtain Greek vases from dealers and by opening tombs himself. That does sound kind of fun to open up a tomb and see what's inside. What's behind door number one? In 1766 and 1767, he published a volume of engravings of his collection entitled Collection of Etruscan Greek and Roman Antiquities from the Cabinet of the Honorable William Hamilton,

his Britannic Majesty's Envoy Extraordinary at the Court of Naples. That is quite a title. Also, I don't like Envoy Extraordinary. Why is it extraordinary on this? Let's take it down a notch there. Bill, this pretentious motherfucker does look in paintings exactly as do she's I expected to. He arranged the sale of these vases to the British Museum in 1771

with the vases arriving in Britain in 1772. They didn't have FedEx overnight back then. After that, and after a display of objects from the South Seas, brought back by Captain James Cook that were going to be displayed in 1778, the trustees of the British Museum seemed to realize something. Most people didn't want to sit down and read, you know, anything, if they could read. Now, they wanted to see stuff.

And there were plenty of British people around the world who were happy to take that stuff back to give them. After the defeat of the French in the Battle of the Nile in 1801, the British Museum acquired more Egyptian sculptures. And in 1802, King Georgia 3rd presented the Rosetta Stone, key to the deciphering of hieroglyphs. hieroglyphs hieroglyphics

an extremely valuable artifact priceless really and one that Egypt has not, excuse me has wanted to have back for a long long time to put in their own one of their own museums

that they now have gifts and purchases from Henry Salt British Consul General in Egypt began in 1818 with a colossal bust of Ramsey's the second

third pharaoh of Egypt's Egypt's 19th dynasty laid the foundations for the collection of Egyptian monumental sculpture and now let's zoom in

on another person who would make a huge contribution to the British Museum so we can see exactly how these objects moved from their homelands over to Britain. Charles Townley was born in Lancashire in 1737, a distant descendant of the aristocratic Howard family. He was educated mostly in France, a common path for a well-born Catholic Englishman of his day. He was said to be elegant, he was intelligent, and as a young adult returned to England

and installed himself at the family of the family of his day. estate with his lavish inheritance. Oh, to have a lavish inheritance. It's one thing you have an inheritance. It's a whole other thing to have a lavish inheritance. What an interesting life you could lead. Or, you know, maybe lead a pretty short life. Me, if I had a lavish amount of money, my late teens, early 20s, well, I might have

fucking died pretty quick. It could have ended badly. Mr. Townley was more responsible than I probably would have been with his money before long instead of just lounging around being a regular, Lord Delos smoking so much fucking opium, he set off for Italy. And what would be the first of three visits? During those three visits, taken over a dozen years, Charles Townie would amass quite the collection. It was a good time for it.

Many Italian nobles were seeing their fortunes dwindle. They were eager to sell whatever they could for a good price or maybe even for a bad price. In Naples town, town he bought a Roman bust of a young woman with downcast eyes. The Nymph Clyte, from a local art dealer, one of his most prized possessions. It's incredible. from the first century CE, still an amazing condition. But Talney didn't only buy from art collectors who had pieces that had been in local family's hands for generations. He also bought fresh local excavations.

For example, excavations were underway at that time at Hadron's Villa, the retreat that the emperor had built outside of Rome, and art dealers were racing to buy whatever was emerging from the ground. Think a Wild West gold rush, but with artifacts instead of nuggets. And I got to say, as exciting as finding. finding gold in a gold rush sounds, finding cool Roman artifacts sounds even cooler. An elite dealer named Thomas Jenkins,

that was not the name I expected, following an elite dealer. Sold Townley, among other objects, a statue of a naked muscle discus thrower recovered from Hadron's villa, also in remarkable condition that came from the second century C.E.

From the 1780s onward, Townley showed off his collection in his London townhouse near St. James Park. And that is pretty fucking cool. A dude also lived with the age of 67 and never married. I'm guessing he had some pretty sick parties. You know, around his art collection, that he used that art from time to time as a lady or a dude magnet?

Guy had one hell of a bachelor pad. One library in his house featured literally dozens of old marble statues, including a seven-foot-tall Venus on a pedestal, burying her breasts and cabinets in the back. He stored smaller treasures, countless cameos, and intaglios. those are both terms for engraved semi-precious stones or objects cast from glass

cameos are carved and raised relief so carving away the negative space so the image stands out while intaglios are in negative relief carving the image into the material directly Roman emperors appear to have given cameos which were conveniently portable as tributes or you know gifts to secure

political alliances primarily as was customary for the time Talani also made some edits to what he collected, Clyte's bosom would be enhanced to give it a more erotic vibe. While the discus thrower, which had been unearthed without a head, was given a head from a different sculpture and a giant cock. No, he was given a different head, though. A dude was for sure using that art to get some action, I think.

In 1791, Townley was made a trustee of the British Museum. Then when he died in 1805, the museum acquired his sculptures for the then considerable sum of 20,000 pounds, and a gallery showcasing them opened three or three years. later. Apparently everything cost 20,000 pounds exactly back then. Talon this collection, which soon decisively was soon decisively eclipsed by 1810

aficionados of ancient sculptures had begun clamoring to see a different incredible cache of ancient marbles, which were being housed in a shed Mayfair. Quite the shed, apparently. These sculptures came not from Italy, but from Ottoman-occupied Athens, where they had been

pried from or otherwise collected around the ruins of the Parthenon, at the instruction of Thomas Bruce, the seventh Earl of Elgin, aka Lord Elgin. Crazy. That shit was just still fucking laying around in the late 18th century.

And before we talk more about Lord Elgin's collection, time for today's first to two mid-show sponsor breaks. If you don't want to hear these ads, please sign up to be a space sister on Patreon. Get the catalog ad-free. Get these episodes early and more. Thanks for listening to those ads.

And now let's learn more about Lord Elgin's collection. similar to William Hamilton, Lord Elgin had arrived in Constantinople as Britain's ambassador to the Ottoman Empire in 1799 when he was in his 30s. And like William Hamilton and Townley, he was a lover of antiques. The way he would tell it, he was concerned about damage being done in important temples in Greece, which was then controlled by the Ottoman Empire, especially if the Greeks were to try to go for independence, something they would indeed do in the 1830s. Because of that, Hamilton was convinced that leaving, the statues in Greece would be a death sentence for many of them.

And he might have been right to be worried. I mean, the Ottomans did use the fucking Parthenon for storing gunpowder and lots of it. Clearly they didn't really give a shit about preserving ancient ruins. On September 26, 1687, Venetian artillery fired a mortar shell that hit the building during a siege of Athens, causing the magazine to explode, killing roughly 300 people, and destroying the roof and center of the temple. What a damn shame, right? the Ottomans didn't of course fire the shot that destroyed a good portion of one of ancient Greece's most important structures but using it for storage like that more than a bit reckless Elgin asked permission of the sublime port the Ottoman seat of power to have artists measure, sketch and copy important pieces of sculptures and architectural details for posterity at length that request was granted along with the authority quote to take away any pieces of stone with old inscriptions or figures thereon

at least that is one version of the story. Another version of the story, more accepted by historians today, tells it this way. Lord Elgin became interested in the Parthenon sculptures before he ever saw them. He commissioned several artists, including an Italian painter.

Giovanni... Giovanni Battista Locivre? No, Giovanni Battista Locivre, to go to Athens to draw the marbles, hoping that such images might inspire new developments in the British arts. Then in 1801, the again, governing Turkish authority apparently informed an emissary of Elginz and Athens that fallen pieces of the temple could be excavated and removed.

Once work began at that site, this permission was very liberally interpreted by both Elgin's representatives or Elgin's who started cutting sculptures off of the building and also by the Turkish authorities who appear to have been bribed to ignore such actions. So by the time Elgin first visited Athens in 1802, many of the Parthenon sculptures were already in packing cases. among these were freezes, pediment sculptures, fragmented statues from the interior chamber walls of the Parthenon, the northeast column, blocks a wall crown, i.e. crown molding, and more. A lot more. Also, even more still was taken from various sites, you know, in Athens, Attica, and elsewhere. A series of shipments took the treasures to England between 1902 and 1912, with only one mishap.

The HMS mentor sank in a storm off of the Greek Isle of Scythira, excuse me in 1804, but the entire cargo was recovered. Elgin left the embassy in 1803, arrived in England in 1806, and his collection remained private for the next 10 years. There was also some very public controversy around it. Various intellectuals, among them the poet Lord Byron, attacked Elgin's actions in print, accused him of vandalism and dishonesty,

bolstered by the fact that Elgin couldn't come up with the original documentation of his agreement with Turkish authorities. In 1810, Elgin published a defense of his actions that silenced most of his detractors, but some still thought he was a crook. Then after the final shipment of the Elgin marbles reached London in 1812, while Elgin had originally intended to install

all of it at Broomhall, his ancestral home, northwest of Edinburgh. He ran into financial difficulties, and in 1816, the Parthenon Marbles, plus dozens of other sculptures from the Acropolis, were acquired from Elgin by Parliament for the British Museum for the sum of not 20,000 pounds this time,

but 35,000 pounds. about half of Elgin's costs. These marbles would eventually be displayed in a custom-built gallery, and unlike Talney's marbles, they had not been edited. Their boobs had remained exactly the same size, for example, as the artist who made them intended. Toward the end of the 19th century, the Greek minister in London would unsuccessfully request

that a bunch of that should be returned. The first formal request by the Greek government for the return of the Elgin marble, specifically, would be made almost 100 years later in 1983. And it was rejected in 1984. Nope, sorry, don't want to. In 2009, Greece decided to ask for the marbles back in a different way. They built the Acropolis Museum, which I've actually been lucky enough to visit.

It's fucking awesome. It includes a top floor gallery showcasing the sculptures that Elgin left behind with plaster cast pointedly filling in the gaps. Backing up again to the early 19th century, when Elgin's artifacts and artworks ended up as part of the British Museum's collection, at that point, the museum's collection was still almost successful. exclusively, excuse me, the results of large donations like Townley's ineligence. But that was about to change.

See, as Britain's imperial ambitions grew, as its colonies began to span the globe and the sun never set on the British Empire, as the popular phrase went, the British Museum became a direct beneficiary of the conquest and occupation of those lands. Let's focus on how the British Museum would benefit and head to the mid-19th century. beginning in 1855, Abyssinia, now Ethiopia, was ruled by Emperor to Wodros the second, sometimes known as King Theodore,

a Coptic Christian. In his quest for power, he had defeated many of his rivals, but he still faced many threats. And because of that in 1862, he asked the British government for an alliance and assistance in acquiring

the latest weapons and tactical experts to help him defeat those threats. His appeal was religious as a Christian ruler. His wars were mostly with his Muslim neighbors. He hoped another Christian nation

would help him, but that request went unanswered. Enraged by the foreign office's failure to reply to him, he seized a number of European hostages in 1863. Among them was the British consul, Captain Charles Cameron,

who was then kept in chains for over two years. Right? Not great. Captain Cameron wrote to the British press describing his imprisonment, including the fact that women and children had also been taken hostage.

Poor bastards. Can you imagine not only being imprisoned, but being in prison with children? I mean, you're already trapped, which of course sucks. But now you're trapped with kids. You know, who won't shut up? They're always whining, they're crying about how they're starving. I'm starving.

I don't want to be beaten anymore. You know, it would just make it a lot harder. Anyway, public outcry in Sweden, Britain. And by June of 1867, in the face of mounting public indignation, the British concluded that military intervention was necessary. The task was given to the British Army in India, technically the Bombay Army.

The force consisted of 13,000 British and Indian soldiers, 26,000 camp followers and over 40,000 animals, including elephants, led by Lieutenant General Sir Robert Napier of the, or probably Napier, nah, maybe Napier, of the Royal Engineers. For months, the British pushed inland, finally confronted the emperor in his citadel. On April 13, 1868, the British attacked the capital fortress of Magdala. An artillery bombardment covered the advance of,

the narrow route to the entrance. Once there, the British rushed the outer and inner gates under fire. Once inside, they discovered that the emperor had already committed suicide rather than be captured. Soldiers then ransacked his treasury, later auctioned off their findings amongst their entourage to pay for the expedition. And if you're thinking, oh, well, you know, they had to intervene for the hostages, and then they probably didn't even think of lootin until they found that stuff. No, they had brought along an expert from the British Museum to bid for some of the choiciest items. looting was part of the plan the entire time. The most important items that would wind up for the British Museum were 11 wood and stone tablets or tabots

that represent the Ark of the Covenant. The age of these things, I can't figure out if it's publicly known. It's not from what I can tell. I cannot find any info online about its age. They have never been on public display. They are considered to be so sacred that even the institution's own curators and trustees are supposedly forbidden from examining them.

They're allegedly kept in a basement. storeroom where only authorized Ethiopian Orthodox clergy may sometimes do them. And Ethiopia has been trying to get those things back for well over a century, and so far, Britain has seemingly not expressed any real interest at all in doing so. Also, in 1868, a British warship would take a stone moai head from Easter Island, give it to Queen Victoria. A little gift for the Queen. Indigenous Islanders believed and still believe the head is the reincarnation.

of their relatives, their ancestors, making it, you know, pretty damn sacred. This type of thing became part of a repeating pattern for countries that found themselves in military engagements with Britain. They risked not only the citizens' lives or economic repercussions, but also having their most prized cultural possessions taken. By the late 19th century, the wealthy West African Kingdom of Benin, now part of Nigeria, was a target for the colonial efforts of the Royal Niger Company, the British Mercantile Company established in 1866 to trade, along the Niger and Benway rivers. The Oba, or King of Benin,

held enormous influence and prevented the company from forming a monopoly in the region. And the company, well, they didn't really like that. So in 1896, the company decided to mount an expedition to depose the king and replace him with a council appointed by British officials. Sounds like something like America would do. Our imperial apple didn't end up falling far from that tree.

January 12th, 1897, Queen Victoria, wrote in her journal that she had gotten some news, quote. The, this has been a, there has been a terrible disaster on the Niger near a place called Benin. No details are yet known beyond the fact that a number of English officers and civilians, including doctors and company who went on a friendly mission, but imprudently not armed, were attacked and fired upon by the Oba of Benin. But that was bullshit.

The English she spoke of were neither unarmed nor civilians. They were British soldiers in disguise, accompanied by 250 African, and dressed as porters who concealed the firearms in their luggage. The Oba had been initially informed by the company that the mission was a peaceful one, but then they got tipped off about its true intent by a group of a security traitors, and in response, he sent forces to ambush the British at Ugatan. But Queen Victoria's version was the one the British public was fed, becoming the propaganda narrative of the Benin massacre,

the slaughter of innocent British people by violent savages prone to unprovoked attacks. Uh-huh. And that bullshit justified a larger invasion. And now a big expedition set off in late December, reaching Benin territory in early January of 1897. On January 4th, they were attacked by the forces of the Oba, and all but two Europeans were killed. In response to this ambush,

the government commissioned Sir Henry Rosson to lead a large expedition, estimated to have 1,400 soldiers and 2,500 carriers, along with NCP staff, medics and scouts, to capture the Oba and destroy the capital, Benin City. During a three-week campaign, the British machine gun bombarded and torched villages and towns and indiscriminately slaughtered countless Edo people. They destroyed buildings, homes and palaces, desecrated sacred sites, blew up a sacred tree, right? Women and children are massacred. But they wouldn't only destroy, they would also steal a vast array of objects known as

bronzes. They would end up stealing an estimated 10,000 objects made of copper alloy, plaques and other artworks carved and uncarved ivory, various works made a wood and coral, and human remains like skulls and teeth. A little bit creepy. One of the most well-known and circulated photographs on this expedition, you can see the enormous variety of looted objects. In the foreground, six men sit in front of a pile of elephant tusks, some of that uncarved ivory. There's a bowl, bells, statues of leopards, and people, other objects, likely a stool, some jugs or jars. The to the far right holds a statue of a head against his right leg. Behind the men is a large pile of loot,

a.k.a. numerous elephant tusks and what looks like debris from the destruction of the city. The background is blurry, but people can still be seen underneath the roof of a building. Slightly towards the right of the roof, a copper alloy casted snake appears to slither down. By far, the most important artifacts taken were the plaques. Originally, they'd been displayed in the audience courtyard of the Obis Palace. The plaques were commissioned and created during the reign of two kings. Oba Aseji and his son Oba Org Orogbua.

These plaques were a very important piece of Benin's history, kind of like if somebody invaded America, you know, kicked her ass a little bit, and then took the original signed declaration of independence and the original signed copy of the Constitution. I would guess that a lot of us might be a little salty about that, if that happened. Within months of the punitive expedition of Benin City,

as it would become known, In the fall of 1897, the British Museum displayed 304 Benin plaques on loan from the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs and subsequently petitioned successfully to receive 203 of these as a donation. Most of the remaining plaques were sold to UK and German museums and to private dealers, while a few were retained by the Foreign Office. Charles Hercules Reed and Ormond Maddict Dalton, the keeper and senior assistant in the British Museum's Department of Bruehl's, British and medieval antiquities and ethnography, respectively, praised the beauty and sophistication

of these plaques. They also asserted that rather than being made in the 19th century, which they were, they were made in the 19th century, they asserted they had to have made made in the middle of the 16th century, and why did they say that? They speculated that Portuguese must have helped the Edo create these works back then, because they couldn't accept that these barbarous Edo people, and that is how they were referred to, had made gorgeous works of art all by themselves. Nigeria has asked for the possession, you know, for these possessions, excuse me, many times, asked for these things to be returned many, many times. And before I share how those requests have gone, time for today's second and two mid-show sponsor breaks. Thanks for listening to those sponsors.

Now let's check back in with Nigeria. How has trying to get their shit back gone. No progress has been made in that regard. And why not? because according to the British Museum Act of 1963, the British Museum cannot de-ascension any objects that have, quote, become vested in the trustees by virtue of a gift or bequest, except under limited circumstances.

But there are workarounds. According to Alexander Herman of the Institute of Art and Law and Independent Education Organization, institutions such as the British Museum could push for a more generous interpretation of this law, which allows them to dispose of an item, if it is considered unfit for the collection. This wording was once said to be used to apply to forgeries, but according to Herman, it could also be applied to items such as those Ethiopian taboots,

which served no useful purpose to a museum. I mean, they're not even, you know, for viewing. But the British Museum's reasoning for not returning objects tends to go beyond the law. In terms of the Elgin marbles, for example, they have claimed that shipping the marbles back could damage them or cause them to be lost in transit, a risk that is just too big to take. So, you know, they gotta keep them.

Imagine applying that logic to a big flat screen TV that you stole from somebody. Right? A couple years later, they find out that you took it. And for some reason, in this hypothetical situation, you know, I guess the statute of limitations has passed and they can't go to the police

to get their stuff back. They just want you to do the right thing. There was like, you know, dude, can you just please give me back my fucking TV? And then you're like, I, I would love to give you your TV back. You know, I want to. I want to give it back.

I really do. I was thinking about it and like, what have you dropped it? What have somebody just dropped it on the way to your house? I mean, think about that. Now we've got a broken TV that no one can watch. No, I think it's best for me to just keep your TV in my house where it's safe. As an example of what the British Museum has done in this regard,

A wall text in the museum next to a cariaticid from the erection, a column from another temple on the Acropolis, sculpted in the form of a woman that was also brought to Britain by Elgin, notes that the five cariatids that remained in Athens and are now in the Acropolis Museum are, quote, much corroded after nearly two more centuries of weathering. Ooh, sassy. Look, Greeks, I got to be honest, you fucking sloppy olive oil drinking opal motherfuckers. don't take care of your shit very well. All right? You don't. You don't take care of it. You're lazy.

So we can't give you your columns back. We might as well get back to a fucking pack of monkeys to look after, all right? Or I guess to go back to that TV thing, you'd be like, look, I would love to give you your TV back. But I've been to your house, and I've seen another one of your TVs, and it's dusty as fuck. And look how nice I keep your TV. It's all fucking polished and shit over here. No way you're getting it back. To be fair, though, on the surface, I can see how an argument about safety could make a kind of sense

if they have been very safe with their stuff. Right after all in today's world, would-be thieves or pirates might be able to tell when objects are going to be in transit via hacking and, you know, attempt to heist. And at the British Museum, artifacts are stored in locked storage rooms with electronic sensors on entrances to such areas

and systems that can record staff movements via swipe cards, CCTV monitors, also monitor foot traffic and possible breaches. So everything at the British Museum is super safe and nothing ever gets taken. Right? No, wrong. Actually, wrong. In 1993, a group of bandits, a group of miscreants, a group of fucking pieces of shit.

They broke it in the museum through the roof, and they made out for the quarter of a million dollars worth of Roman coins and jewelry. 2002, some sneaky visitor lifted a 2,500-year-old Greek head from a closed gallery. That same year, the London Sunday Times sent an undercover journalist to the British Museum's Department of Greece and Rome to pose as a work trainee and the security was so relaxed that the reporter was able to easily smuggle an ancient Greek statue of a foot right on out of the gallery

just walked right past the guards without being caught. In 2004, 15 items of medieval Chinese jewelry were stolen but those were just a few random incidents, right? Maybe a combination of human error, right place, right time, not a bigger systemic problem with the museum itself. Well, that's what almost everybody thought.

until 2023. That year, it was revealed that literally hundreds and hundreds of objects, including cameos and intagios, once owned by Townley, which we talked about, were stolen,

some of them sold off over a period of many years. Shit has slipped out of the British Museum many, many, many, many times over the years. And how has that happened? Let's go back to 2010

to try and find out. The gems, a catch-all term for cameos and intaglios first started appearing on eBay around 2010. fucking put them on eBay. A Danish collector named

Itai Gradel bought about 300 of these from a seller named Paul Higgins. He assumed Paul was old and maybe a little bit to see now because Grado would buy the last of his gems supposedly the last of his gems only to then have the seller claim later

that oh gosh dang I found more in a drawer if you want them like literally make claims like that. What? Look at these. I opened another drawer and there were more gems. But after 2011 the supply began to seem to truly dwindle, but then Gradel was informed that Higgins had died. However, not long afterwards,

similar gems started to appear on eBay again. Gradle made inquiries about the origins of these new items. Sellers said that he had inherited them from his grandfather, Frank Nichols, an antique shop owner in York who died in 1953. But this seller's name was also Paul Higgins. Was that a coincidence? That would be like the coincidence of all.

coincidences if it was. Making this all stranger, the seller only wanted 50 or so pounds for gems that were worth much, much, much more than that. One day, Gradle got a cheap ring in the mail that he assumed was a reproduction because it was so cheap. Shocked to find out it actually had come from the 3rd century BC. After Gradle bought a cast glass gem from the same seller, he was delighted to discover that according to an 18th century catalog, it had once belonged to none other than Charles

Townley. Gradle was a bit surprised, having believed that all of Townley's gems had gone to the British Museum. But he figured that, you know, sometimes things get split up among families, wind up in odd places. But the seller, Paul Higgins too, simply kept quote unquote finding more and more gems. Gosh, dang, oh, what? I have so many drawers I forgot to look in earlier. And I just keep finding more old gems. Sometimes he would say that they were passed down.

Sometimes he would just say, you know, he got some more to junk shop. then in 2016 something even stranger still happened the seller posted again on eBay a fragment of an onyx cameo featuring a young woman in a profile alongside Priypus, the god of fertility Gradle recognized this fragment as one that had specifically been described in a 1926 British Museum catalog of engraved gems

this guy's fucking serious about his gems but since the cameo was not listed on the museum's website Gradle assumed I guess it must be legit and he continued to buy you from the seller until 2018. Two years after that, Gradle made a shocking discovery. He was on the British Museum's website

when he saw a photograph of the cameo fragment depicting the girl and priapus, meaning the fragment did belong to the museum. Gradle then went back to his records and discovered the name on his final PayPal receipt from 2018. The only one recent enough to remain accessible on his online account

was not from Paul Higgins, but from one Peter Higgs. He was talking over the weirdness with the friend, mentioned Peter Higgs, and the friend was like, you do realize, don't you? That the name of the curator at the British Museum is Peter Higgs. Ah, shit!

Should have worked on a better alias, Peter. Now alarmed, he alerts the museum that one of its cataloged objects had been offered on the open market. But it was the summer of 2020. During the pandemic, the museum's curators all working from home, and I guess just couldn't fucking be bothered to email him back.

No one gets back to him. Nothing happened when the museum reopened on a limited basis in August of 2020. So then Grado waited until early 2021, emailed again, emailed the museum's deputy director, Jonathan Williams. He shared what he knew about the gems that had popped up online, some of them making their way from Higgs through other collectors. He also expressed dismayed that the museum had not cataloged all of Townley's collection yet since they had had the last 200 fucking years to do so.

He wrote, the lack of registration would have been an open invitation to a thief since no one would then miss them and their presence in the collections could never be proven once they had left. Indeed, it would be revealed that the individual record for some 2.4 million items at the British Museum were reported as lacking, meaning they were either out of date, incomplete, or just did not exist.

You know what? They've been busy, okay? The snacks in the gift shop, they don't just show up on their own. and those heavy coffee table books that look so cool. They don't walk themselves up from storage. Oh, and don't get me started on the floors. There is so much floor to keep clean. And so many patrons to be shushed. Oh, the shushing alone takes three to four hours of every eight-hour shift.

Still, for the moment, nothing happened. Because by then the museum's director, Hartwick Fisher, was trying to oversee a renovation of the museum and its displays, included a new archaeological research facility in Reading, 40 miles outside of London, there was simply no way that Hartford could hop on the phone and talk for two minutes.

There's no way he could get back to an email. Impossible. With all his work in Reading, it's 40 miles outside of London. He doesn't have time with that commute. There were also new talks underway about repatriating the Parthenon Elgin sculptures,

right, and that takes a lot of time. And a representative of the museum reportedly met privately in London with the Greek prime minister, right? They had a lot of shit going going on. You know, I don't know how well the Greek prime minister spoke English. Maybe it was tough to understand him. In subsequent months, the museum and the Greek government

continued their unofficial conversation, eventually arriving at the idea that some of the sculptures currently in London might be brought to Athens. Reciprocally, the Greeks would lend some treasures from their museums. It was a tricky conversation because the Greeks wouldn't agree to anything that framed the move of the sculptures as a loan. In their view, they were the rightful owners. So all that's happening. Gradle still doesn't hear shit from anyone, which is fucking ridiculous. This dude was like,

uh, guys, a lot of your shit has been stolen. I have a lot of it. I promise you. I have it right now in my possession. Literally have it at my house. I would like to get it back to you,

ASAP, help you find out who stole it and more that has gone missing. And the museum was like, uh, yeah, we hear you. But like,

we have like a staff lunch in a few months from now. And we still haven't been able to, you know, come to consensus on a caterer to use, okay? So, gonna have to get back to yon dat. Grady was really starting to worry. Every day meant the possibility of more thefts. A few months later, he follows up yet again.

Eventually gets a brief dismissive message from deputy director Jonathan Williams in return. The museum William said had conducted a thorough investigation, quote, which found that the object concerned are all accounted for, with no suggestion of any wrongdoing on behalf of any. member of museum staff. What the fuck? That's crazy. This guy's like, bullshit.

I know. It's not all cataloged in your possession because I literally have it now. I can send you photos. I can send you videos. I can meet you at your office with the shit that should still be in your building, but is with me. And the guy's like, nah, nah, get out here. Go on get.

Gradle knew that this was all nonsense, right? He'd seen the museum's collection on eBay. He has a lot of these items. And now he starts to wonder because he's not a complete fucking idiot. Is Williams involved in some kind of cover-up? Seems so. The museum had started this investigation in August of 2021, with an audit of their Greece and Roman strong room,

just weeks after Gradle's follow-up to Williams. In April of 2022, staffers launched a more extensive audit of the department's holdings to discover that approximately 2,000 objects were missing or damaged, in particular, cameos and Italios. It appeared that the thief had even tried to cover his tracks by altering digital databases, In one case, they inserted a forged handwritten note, saying the artifact had been lost back in 1963.

Around the end of 2022, the police are finally brought in. And they have a primary suspect, Peter Higgs. Higgs had first been exposed to the wonders of the ancient world through a great uncle who owned a fish and chip shop in the north of England. The great uncle's garden featured a marble piece depicting the priest of Apollo and his two sons locked in a fight with flesh-eating snakes and Higgs loved it. And he would go on when he grew up. up to work for the British Museum for three decades.

In 2021, he was made acting keeper for the Greek and Roman collections, although he did not end up getting the job permanently, which is good. Finally, on August 16th, 2023, it was revealed to the public that the items had been stolen for the British Museum, British Museum. The media revealed days later that the museum had been warned about the thefts two years earlier and took zero action. And now, Director Hartwig Fisher, that fucking dingus, resigned. while deputy director Jonathan Williams step back, because he's a fucking moron too. In March of 2024, Nicholas Cullinan,

formerly head of the National Portrait Gallery, was appointed as the new director of the British Museum. And Peter Higgs, well, that motherfucker is currently being sued by the British Museum in a civil trial. The museum claims that Higgs, quote, abused his position of trust and covered his tracks by using false names like

Paul Higgins or Sultan 1966 online, creating false documentation and manipulate the museum's internal records. A separate criminal investigation by the Metropolitan Police is ongoing into him. However, he's not been arrested, not been criminally charged,

you know, as of recent reports. Higgs continued to deny the allegations publicly, and the police apparently just can't find enough evidence to get charges to stick. Seems like everybody thinks he's guilty as hell, though. And the new administration at the British Museum, well, they have not changed their tune on repatriation in spite of all this.

Let's start with the Elgin Marbles. We already talked about how in November of 2021, the Greek prime minister, whose name I thought about not saying earlier, thought about just calling him prime minister, but his name is the super easy to say, Kiracos Mitsotakis. I think I got it actually kind of close. Kiranatos Misattakis.

He visited London, met then prime minister Boris Johnson. They discussed the possibility of a temporary loan of items from the British Museum's collection in exchange for items currently held in Greek museums, The British Museum would agree to ship to Athens, potentially a third or more of the marbles for a set time period, such as 10 years. But the Greek government wouldn't agree to alone so easily because that would mean, at least in their view, acknowledging that Britain owns the Elgin Marbles. The British government, for their part, has rejected requests from the United Nations Educational Scientific and Cultural Organization, UNESCO, to reconsider its position regarding ownership. to reconsider his position regarding returning the sculptures to Greece.

During a visit to the United States in March of 2023, then Prime Minister Rishi Sunak said the Parthenon sculptures should remain in Britain in the British Museum. He said, quote, the UK has cared for the Elgin Marbles for generations. Our galleries and museums are funded by taxpayers because they are a huge asset to this country.

We share their treasures with the world, and the world comes to the UK to see them. The collection of the British Museum is protected by law, and we have no plans to change it. I hate it when they fall behind laws like that, especially when it's a politician. I don't know what we can do. We can't do anything.

It's the law. Motherfucker, you can change the law. Prime Minister, Mitsotakis, was not a fan of him saying this. In a visit to the UK, November of 2023, he described the Parthenon sculptures being held in the British Museum as, quote, like cutting Mona Lisa in half. fair point in December of

2024 it was reported that a new deal between the nations was close what members of the government's called a structural strategic partnership

but we'll see if that actually happens I mean that was almost a year and a half ago now and as far as I can tell nothing has changed it feels like in addition to being really good

at amassing a huge collection of the world's artifacts the bit of museum is also really good at blowing people off and shining them on and what about the Ethiopian tablets, the ones that literally nobody is seen, except for the Ethiopian priests that have to

travel to the UK from Ethiopia to see them, which is not totally convenient. Let me share a few more details on that and on a few other artifacts before wrapping this up. In 2001, one tablet was returned soon after it was discovered in a church covered in Edinburgh, leading to ecstatic celebrations in its home country. Following year, another former director of the British Museum, David Wilson, wrote, quote, one of the less glorious episodes in the history of the museum in today's terms

was the trustee's involvement in the punitive expedition to Absinia, which again is Ethiopia. In 2019, the country's culture minister on a visit to the museum requested that they be returned,

but the Ethiopian delegation was only allowed to take back one object. Not what they wanted, but two locks of the 19th century emperor king toodros's hair, which had been held by the national Army Museum. That's fucking creepy. Why did they take the dead king's hair

in the first place? The UK government will not return the body of Tuodros' son, Prince Alimeo, who died at the age of 18 after being brought to England and is buried at Windsor Castle. Also weird, why can't give that fucking body back? August of 20203

returning heritage and non-profit online resource that gathers information about contested cultural artifacts and restitution claims submitted a freedom of information request to the British Museum on behalf of Ethiopia. It asked to see records relating to internal meetings during which trustees disclosed or excuse me discussed the tablets in order to determine the institution's justifications for not repatriating the objects. Returning Heritage claimed that the materials

it received were incomplete and in places excessively redacted, just like the Epstein files, I guess. The organization then submitted a second request, but the British Museum upheld its initial report. Returning Heritage then submitted a complaint to the information commissioner's office to open an official investigation. In February of 2024, Westminster Abbey said it had agreed in principle that a single tablet that has been sealed inside a cathedral altar should be returned to Ethiopia. Wow. As for everything else, no plans to return them, it seems.

And the Benin artifacts, the bronzes, well, the British Museum seems to be especially unwilling to let the 800 or so pieces in that collection go. other museums have done similar stuff like as far as letting things go they've tried to set a better example like the hornemann museum in south london they gave back six artifacts to nigeria's national commission for museums and monuments the smithsonian institution in the u.s also returned 29 benign bronzes to nigeria germany returned 22 that same year it was announced in february of 2025 that the netherlands will return 119 bane bronzes to nigeria nearly 130 years after the british sold them for to the Dutch. In additional six pieces will also be returned to Nigeria by the Dutch city of Rotterdam, according to the government of the Netherlands, a bell, three relief plaques, a coconut casing, and a staff. For their part, the British Museum website states that it received a written request for the return of its Benin collections from Nigeria's Federal Ministry of

Information and Culture in October 2021, but it hasn't returned shit. It acknowledged that the items were requested, but it's like, nah. according to its website, the British Museum, quote, remains open to discussion, though, with partners in Nigeria. Man, so much fucking shining on, so much lip service. So should the British Museum return them? What do you think? Should the British Museum return everything?

Would there be a British Museum after that? Where do you draw the line when something is acquired legally and not legally? How do you balance a desire to expose people to cultures they've never seen before with taking important objects from their homelands? in the you know is the history of humanity destined to be one of conquests and domination forever or could we change that be a little nicer uh and if we could change it where do we begin me personally i think that now with the information we have and the ability to track down where items have come from and how they were taken the british museum should absolutely 100% return those items and i didn't think i would initially feel that way going into this topic but then i thought about it this way imagine you had some artifact or artifacts that have been in your family for generations. Like in my family, we have these arrowheads found on my stepdad's property along this creek bed.

I remember him and a bunch of his friends, you know, sifting the dirt of this creek bed on his land where some tribe must have spent a lot of time hunting, making arrowheads, battling some combination of all those. We found spearheads as well. And it was fucking awesome. It was a really cool experience as a kid. You know, they're fun to look at, fun to think about who originally made them, how they may have used them.

But if somebody approached me and talked to me about how their ancestors used to live on my stepdad's land, land that was spiritually very important to them, and that a great battle had taken place there, culturally significant, that those arrowheads were part of that battle, and they showed me historical documentation to prove that what they were saying was true, and that the land was stolen from their tribe and some shady deal, would I then give back those arrowheads? Yes, without question. You know, just because we found them because we fucking took them from the ground, that doesn't mean that we truly own them,

that they're ours in a moral sense, not for me at least. And I would hope that if somebody had some artifact that was very important to my family, they would do the right thing and give it to me as well. But what if I had bought those arrowheads? And for some reason, they were an investment that was, you know, very important to my finances. Well, in that case, I would offer to sell them to them for whatever I paid for them. I am a realist, right? I do understand that sometimes you have to take finances into consideration, of course.

But the British Museum doesn't sound like they're doing any of that. They're not offering to give the artifacts back or sell them for what they got them for. Not that the British government needs to make more money on them. I'm guessing one, or make money on them. I'm guessing one reason they don't want to give anything back. Maybe the primary reason is they are worried about the precedent that would set. Right? What if doing that opens a door to other countries wanting their shit back to?

well, if that other stuff was originally taken nefariously, then they should give all of it back. Also, this stuff has been documented now. It's not like it was 100 years ago, right? Well, it should be documented. It's not like they've been pretty lazy. But we have technology now to thoroughly document stuff. You know, we could have high-res video, photos,

3D fucking imaging of these things. Exact replicas could be made. You know, I do understand that there's a risk that priceless irreplaceable artifacts could be lost forever, but as they're already spelled out, they can also apparently disappear from the British Museum at any time pretty easily. So that's not the best argument to not return them anymore. I just look at it like the British Museum, they had a great run.

But maybe that run should change now. Maybe they don't need over 8 million works anymore. Maybe they could get by with like 4 million. Right? Like what if they gave 4 million fucking items back? Which feels like a lot. I don't think people are asking for 4 million items. But if they did, they would still have plenty of items.

I'm curious what you think. do the victors just to get to just get to keep their spoils forever or you know even though they don't have to legally maybe give those spoils back should they do it? Is that the ethical, moral thing to do? Could they just be nice

and do what's morally right even if they don't technically have to? Wouldn't it be nice to not only go to a museum and see a bunch of cool shit but also not feel guilty about it? Also know that that shit wasn't stolen? Wouldn't it feel better to look at stuff from around the world that nations are happy to have you

checking out in that location. I mean, I wouldn't feel good about checking out a friend's coin collection if I knew that he had stolen all those coins from a neighbor, would you? And that's it for this edition of Time Sucks Short Sucks. That was a fun one. I like, I have one opinion going in. I'm like, oh, come on. We can't make everybody happy.

And then by the end, I'm like, no, no, those are good arguments, actually. I changed my mind. If you enjoyed this story, check out the rest of the bad magic catalog, beefier episodes at Time Suck every Monday at New Pacific Times. new episode to the now long running paranormal podcast, scared to death, Tuesdays at midnight. A couple episodes, nightmare fuel, some fictional horror thrown into the mix each month as well on some Fridays.

Thank you to Sophie Evans for finding this topic doing the initial research. At first, I was hesitant. I was like, hmm, it feels boring. Just being honest. Then I got into, I'm like, okay, okay, I get it now. Also, thanks to Logan Keith, polishing up the sound of today's episode and making the episode thumbnail artwork. please go to bad magic productions.com for all your bad magic needs.

Have yourself a great weekend. At Magic Productions.