THE PARTHENON SCULPTURES

MELINA'S SPEECH TO THE OXFORD UNIONby Melina Mercouri

The Oxford Union is a world-famous debating society which is often addressed by eminent people. In June 1986 the topic for debate was the return of the Parthenon Marbles to Greece. This is a long file and we recommend that you download it to your hard disk for reading offline. It is well worth the effort. We would like to thank the Melina Mercouri Foundation for providing the transcript of this speech.

Mr President, Honourable members, Ladies and Gentlemen. At once let me thank the Oxford Union for introducing this resolution for debate, and thanks for inviting me. I think that it is good, that this evening a Greek voice should be heard. Even a voice with my poor accent. I hear it and I wince. I am reminded of what Brendan Behan once said of a certain broadcaster: "He speaks as if he had the Elgin Marbles in his mouth".

There are other thanks I need to make; to the many British citizens who have defended my government's position, to the Honourable Members of both Houses who have manifested interest and sympathy for the return, to the participants in tonight's debate, and of course, for its efforts to bring the truth to the English people, my deepest gratitude to the British Committee for the Restitution of the Parthenon Marbles.

And the Parthenon Marbles they are. There are no such things as the Elgin Marbles.

There is a Michael Angelo David.

There is a Da Vinci Venus.

There is a Praxitelles Hermes.

There is a Turner "Fishermen at Sea".

There are no Elgin Marbles!

You know, it is said that we Greeks are a fervent and warm blooded breed. Well, let me tell you something - it is true. And I am not known for being an exception. Knowing what these sculptures mean to the Greek people, it is not easy to address their having been taken from Greece dispassionately, but I shall try. I promise.

I have been advised by one of your eminent professors that I must tell the history of how the Marbles were taken from Athens and brought to British shores. I protested that this was too well known but was told that even if there were a single person in this audience who might be vague about the facts, the story must be told. So, as briefly as I can, here goes.

We are at the end of the 19th Century. Napoleon is pondering the risk of invading England. He decides that it is not a very good idea. Instead he invades Egypt, wresting it from Turkish

authority. The Turks don't appreciate this at all. They break off diplomatic relations with France. They also declare war. Britain decides that this is a dandy time to appoint an Ambassador to Turkey.

Enter Lord Elgin. It is he who gets the job. He has just married pretty Mary Nisbett and is finishing his fine country house. Its architect tells him of the wonders of Greek architecture and sculptures, and suggests it would be a marvellous idea to make plaster casts of the actual objects in Athens. "Marvellous, indeed," says Elgin. He sets about organising a group of people who could make architectural drawings, headed by a worthy painter, who turns out to be Giovanni Lusieri, an Italian painter.

I can't resist stealing a moment for an anecdote. Elgin had previously approached Turner. Yes, the Turner. The young painter was interested. Lord Elgin sets down the conditions: every drawing and sketch that Turner made was to become his Lordship's possession. In his spare time he would give Lady Elgin drawing lessons. "Okay," says Turner "but then I would want £400 a year." No, no says Elgin, too much, much too much. So, no Turner. End of anecdote.

The Chaplain of Elgin's staff was the Reverend Philip Hunt. I shall not speak of him with much reverence. If I had to exclude Lord Elgin, the arch villain in the story, as I see it, was the Reverend Hunt. Of that a little later on. The Elgins are received with pomp in Constantinople. Lavish gifts are exchanged. The winds of war are favourable to the British and the Sultan is delighted. Now we shift to Greece, this Greece occupied for almost 400 years now by the Ottoman empire.

Elgin's staff of artists arrive in Athens. To control Athens the Turks have assigned two governors, one civil, the other military. Much has been said and continues to be said of what little concern the Turks had for the Acropolis treasures. Yet, it took six months for the Elgin staff to be allowed access. But they worked it out; five pounds a visit into the palm of the military governor. This inaugurated a procedure of bribery and corruption of officials that was not to stop until the marbles were packed and shipped to England.

Yet, when scaffolding was erected and moulds were ready to be made, suddenly came rumours of French preparation for military action. The Turkish governor ordered the Elgin staff down from the Acropolis. Five pounds a visit or not, access to the Acropolis was verboten . There was only one way to get back up there again; for Lord Elgin to use his influence with the Sultan in Constantinople, to obtain a document, called a firman , ordering the Athens authorities to permit the work to go on.

The Reverend Hunt goes to Constantinople to see Lord Elgin. He asks that the document state that the artists - please, note this, are in the service of the British Ambassador Extraordinary. Elgin goes to see the Sultan. Elgin gets the firman . The text of the firman is rather tortuously composed. Let me read the orders given by the Sultan which are pertinent to our discussion. I quote:

"That the artists meet no opposition in walking, viewing, contemplating the pictures and buildings they may wish to design or copy; or in fixing scaffolding around the ancient temple; or in modelling with chalk or gypsum the said ornaments and visible figures; or in excavating,

when they find it necessary, in search of inscriptions among the rubbish . Nor hinder them from taking away any pieces of stone with inscriptions and figures." (The Hunt translation later presented to the Select Committee reads - qualche pezzi di pietra - some pieces of stone).

These instructions are given to the governors -- and the point is made in the firman -- because of the excellent relations between the two countries, and I quote again:

"...particularly as there is no harm in the said buildings being thus viewed, contemplated and drawn".

No sooner was the firman delivered to Athens, than a feverish, terrifying assault is made upon an edifice that, until today, many consider the purest, the most beautiful of human creation.

When the Caryatid porch of the Erectheum was attacked, the fever mounted so high that the Reverend Hunt suggested that the entire building could be removed if only a large British Man of War could be dispatched for it. Lord Elgin was thrilled by the idea and asked for a ship to be sent. The request was not considered outrageous but at that moment no ship was available. (Imagine if it had been).

To relate all the horrors needs a great deal of time and a great deal of restraint. The words "pillage", "dilapidation", "wanton devastation", "lamentable overthrow and ruin" are not mine of the moment. They were spoken by Elgin's contemporaries. Horace Smith referred to Elgin as "the marble stealer". Lord Byron called him a plunderer. Thomas Hardy later on was to write of the marbles as "captives in exile".

My government has asked for the return of the Parthenon Marbles. We have been refused. Be it on record that we shall never abandon the request. Let me list the arguments that are perpetuated against the return and deal with them one by one.

First, the marbles were obtained by proper transaction. I ask if bribery and corruption of officials can be contradictory to "proper transaction". When the Select Committee appointed was studying the proposition of buying the marbles from his Lordship, Elgin submitted an itemised account of his expenditure for their obtainment. Citing, and I quote him "the obstacles, interruptions and discouragement created by the caprices and prejudices of the Turks", he lists an item of £21,902 for presents to the authorities in Athens. Well at least it's a proper sum . And, of course, it must be asked: is it proper to transact with the Turks for the most reassured of Greek possessions when Greece is under Turkish invasion and subjugation?

A second argument that is maintained despite its being angrily refuted by numerous British travellers in Greece at the time is that:

"...the ignorant, superstitious Greeks were indifferent to their art and their monuments." This, of course, implies that they were eyeless, conscienceless, and heartless. Who? These Greeks who, long after Pericles, created the miracles of Byzantine art? These Greeks who even under Turkish occupation created entire schools of arts and techniques? These Greeks who despite 400 years of Turkish rule grimly maintained their language and their religion? These

Greeks who in their struggle for independence sent the Turkish soldiers bullets to be used against themselves. Yes, against themselves .

The Turkish soldiers besieged on the Acropolis ran short of ammunition. They began to attack the great columns to extract lead to make bullets. The Greeks sent them ammunition with the message: "Here are bullets, don't touch the columns".

After independence was gained, one of the first Acts passed by the Greek government was for the protection and preservation of national monuments. Indifference? We consider this accusation monstrous. You have surely heard, but let me repeat, what a heartsick Greek man said to members of the Elgin staff, and reported by J.C. Hobhouse. "You have taken our treasures. Please give them good care. One day we shall ask for their return". Are we to believe that this man was speaking only for himself?

Of late, a new theory has been proposed, this one is a beauty. Mr Gavin Stamp, I shall have the honour of meeting him tonight, proposes the notion that modern Greeks are not descendants of Pericles. Wow! Our marbles have been taken. Who will lay claim to the bones of our ancestors?

As Minister of Culture, I hereby invite Mr Stamp to come to Athens. I will arrange prime time on television for him to tell Greek demographers and the Greek people who they are.

Argument number 3. If the marbles are returned, it will set a precedent that could lead to the emptying of museums. Forgive me but this is just plain blarney. Who is going to ask and who is going to permit the emptying of museums?

Let me state once more that we think museums everywhere are a vital social and cultural need and must be protected. I have repeated again and again that we are asking for the integral part of a structure that was mutilated. In the world over, the very name of our country is immediately associated with the Parthenon.

We are asking only for something unique, something matchless, something specific to our identity. And dear friends, if there were the shadow of a shadow of danger to museums, why would the International Council of Museums recommend the return, as they have done.

A rgument number 4. This one, of more recent vintage. Pollution! Pollution over the Acropolis. How much sense does this make? When London was dealing with the severe problem of pollution, were there cries of alarm for the marbles? Of course not. For the simple reason that they were housed inside the British Museum. Now we don't make pretence that the sculptures can be reset in the frieze. We think it cannot be done, but my government has gone on record that the day that Athens sees the return of the marbles, there will be, ready to receive them, adjacent to the Acropolis for relevant context, a beautiful museum with the most developed systems of security and preservation.

May I add that we are proud of the ongoing work at the Acropolis. The exposition of this work was unveiled to a congress of the World's leading archaeologists who were invited to Athens. Their praise was unanimous, enthusiastic and gratifying. Since then it has been exhibited in

major European cities. It was graciously received by the British Museum in London. The Financial Times wrote a report of the quality of this work and the exemplary skills of Greek restorers. I have asked that copies be made available here to those of you who might be interested.

The argument most perpetuated is that removing the marbles saved them from the barbarous Turks. To deny Turkish vandalism there would put me on weak ground. But the fact is that the Turks gave no permission to Elgin to remove sculptures from the works or the walls of the citadel, and with the blessing of the Reverend Hunt, barbarously they were removed. I quote from a letter from Lusieri to Elgin:

"I have, my Lord, the pleasure of announcing to you the possession of the eighth metope, that one where there is the centaur carrying off the woman. This piece has caused much trouble in all respects and I have been obliged to be a little barbarous ."

In another letter he hoped "...that the barbarisms that I have been obliged to commit in your service may be forgotten".

Edward Dodwell wrote: "I had the inexpressible mortification of being present, when the Parthenon was despoiled of its finest sculptures. I saw several metopes at the south east extremity of the temple taken down. They were fixed in between the triglyphs as in a groove; and in order to lift them up, it was necessary to throw to the ground the magnificent cornice by which they were covered. The south east angle of the pediment shared the same fate; and instead of the picturesque beauty and high preservation in which I first saw it, it is now completely reduced to a state of shattered desolation. We cannot but execrate the spirit of barbarism which prompted them to shatter and mutilate, to pillage and overturn the noble works which Pericles had ordered and the unrivalled genius of Pheidias and Iktinos had executed."

Another witness, Robert Smirke, writes: "It particularly affected me when I saw the destruction made to get down the basso-relievos on the walls of the frieze. Each stone as it fell shook the ground with its ponderous weight, with a deep hollow noise; it seemed like a convulsive groan of the injured spirit of the temple."

Edward Daniel Clarke was among those witnessing the devastation. Clarke writes: "Looking up, we saw with regret the gap that had been made, which all the ambassadors of the earth, with all the sovereigns they represent, aided by every resource that wealth and talent can bestow, will never again repair".

So much for barbarism.

In the year 1816 a Select Committee is appointed to study a proposal made by Lord Elgin. The marbles had been exhibited in various places and sheds. Lord Elgin has fallen on hard times and offers to sell the marbles to the government. The committee has to decide:

By what authority the collection was acquired. Under what circumstances the authority was granted. The merit of the marbles as works of art. How much should be spent for an eventual purchase.

If you read the report you will see that the bulk of the testimony asked for, was how good were the marbles, and how much should be paid for them. But in order to recommend their purchase a

tricky corner had to be turned; that the circumstances of the transaction were proper and that the marbles were obtained by Elgin, the private citizen and not by his influence as the British Ambassador.

I read to you from the Select Committee report:

"The Earl of Aberdeen in answer to an inquiry, whether the authority and influence of a public situation was, in his opinion, necessary for accomplishing the removal of these marbles, answered that he did not think a private individual could have accomplished the removal of the remains that Lord Elgin obtained." (The Earl of Aberdeen, no mean treasure seeker himself, was in Greece at the time and in a position to know).

I read from the report:

"Doctor Hunt, who had better opportunities of information upon this point than any other person who had been examined, gave it as his decided opinion that a British subject not in the situation of Ambassador could not have been able to obtain from the Turkish government a firman of such extensive powers."

I read from the report: "The success of British arms in Egypt and the expected restitution of that province to the Porte wrought a wonderful and instantaneous change in the disposition of all ranks and descriptions of people toward our nation".

And yet, and yet, hear this from the Select Committee's conclusion: "It cannot be doubted that Lord Elgin looked upon himself as acting in a character entirely distinct from his official position. But whether the government from whom he obtained permission did, or could, consider him so, is a question which can be solved only by conjecture and reasoning, in the absence and deficiency of all positive testimony." (If this is not double speak, what is?)

Absence of positive testimony? Lord Elgin to the Committee:

"I had to transact with the highest personages in the state."

Could the committee really believe that a simple citizen could get to transact with the highest personages of the Turkish state?

Lord Elgin tells the Committee of his gratitude for having His Majesty's Ship to transport cases of the marbles. Could an ordinary citizen get a royal troopship at his service?

Question of the Committee to Reverend Hunt:

"Do you imagine that the firman gave a direct permission to remove figures and pieces of sculpture from the walls of the temples, or must that have been a matter of private arrangement with the local authorities?"

Hunt's answer: "That was the interpretation which the governor of Athens was induced to allow it to bear."

Induced by whom? A private citizen? Absence of positive testimony? A private citizen or to an Ambassador? Well then, to the firman itself. Permission was granted to Lord Elgin "...due to the friendship between the Sublime and Ever Durable Ottoman Court and that of England."

Mr President, Honourable Members, Ladies and Gentlemen, with all apology, if needed, I submit to you that the Committee's ruling that Lord Elgin acted as a private individual is either the height of ingeniousness or of doubtful faith.

But that was one hundred and seventy years ago. This is a different England. There are different concepts of Empire and conquest. A different ethic prevails. It would be interesting to know what a committee today would conclude if they reviewed the evidence of those called before the committee - and the judgements of those who were not called. I would make a small wager - even a large wager, that there would be a different outcome.

I have taken of your time and I know that the debate is the thing to catch consciences. I would hope that the debate evokes a few questions. I have a little list:

Were the marbles seized wrongly? And if they were wrongly seized, can it be right that they be kept?

If there was right in their being seized, is it wrong that they be returned? What value should be given to the argument that if Elgin hadn't taken the marbles, other

Englishmen or the French would have done so? Does it matter that 95% of the Greek people might never see the finest of Greek creation? Is it conceivable that a free Greece would have permitted the removal of the marbles?

England and Greece are friends. English blood was shed on Greek soil in the war against fascism, and Greeks gave their lives to protect English pilots. Read Churchill, he tells you how crucial was the Greek role in your decisive desert victory over Rommel.

Last year there was a celebration of Shakespeare in the Amphitheatre at the foot of the Acropolis. Your Covent Garden brought the Verdi Macbeth. Your National Theatre came with Coriolanus. They were unforgettable nights. Not only for the high standard of performance but also for an extraordinary communion between British artists and the Greek audience. Ian McKellen will forgive me if I speak of his tears of emotion and those of his fellow artists as the audience stood cheering them. Those tears had to do with a rapport between two peoples, with friendship, with Shakespeare played on that sacred spot. It was beautiful, memorable. It is in the spirit of this friendship that we say to you, there was an injustice that can now be corrected.

You must understand what the Parthenon Marbles mean to us. They are our pride. They are our sacrifices. They are our noblest symbol of excellence. They are a tribute to the democratic philosophy. They are our aspirations and our name . They are the essence of Greekness.

We are ready to say that we rule the entire Elgin enterprise as irrelevant to the present. We say to the British government: you have kept those sculptures for almost two centuries. You have cared for them as well as you could, for which we thank you. But now in the name of fairness and morality, please give them back. I sincerely believe that such a gesture from Great Britain would ever honour your name.

Thank you.

Greek Minister of Culture Evangelos Venizelos met the Director of the British Museum, Neil MacGregor on 12 November 2002 in London. This is the first time that a director of the British Museum has agreed to meet a member of the Greek government to hear the case for the return of the Parthenon Marbles. Shortly before meeting Mr Venizelos and hearing the Greek case, Mr MacGregor issued a statement declaring that the Marbles would remain in Britain. In his statement MacGregor said that the Parthenon Marbles were among a "select group of key objects which are indispensable to the museum's core function to tell the story of human civilisation, the sculptures cannot be lent to any museum, in Greece or elsewhere".

The Greek government has made major concessions in recent years to try and accommodate the concerns of the British Museum and the British government. They have made it clear for over two years now that ownership is not the key issue (see the policy statement from May 2000 below). However, the relocation of the Marbles to Athens is a key issue for the Greek government and this could be achieved without raising the issue of ownership if the Marbles were sent to Athens on a permanent loan from the British Museum. In return, the Greek government has offered to loan the best of Greek antiquity to the British Museum on a rotating loan basis so that the gallery where the Marbles are currently exhibited can still be dedicated to Greek culture. They have also proposed that the British Museum could operate a branch of the museum in Athens, presumably in the new Acropolis Museum (model pictured above), where the Parthenon Marbles would be exhibited once they were returned to Athens.

While the decision of the director of the British Museum to reject the Greek position before his meeting with Mr Venizelos was clearly not helpful, the Greek Culture Minister said that he remained realistic but optimistic and considered the fact that the British Museum has finally met a Greek delegation to be significant. He added that the Greek government would not hesitate to embarrass the British Museum and the British government in 2004 when Athens hosts the Olympic Games if the British side still insists on keeping the Parthenon Marbles in London. The new Acropolis Museum will be built to house all the Marbles and the Marbles still in Greece will be displayed in such a way that gaps will be left in the frieze and labelled to show visitors that the missing pieces are still being held in London.

Policy statement on the return of the Parthenon Sculptures

By Greek Minister of Culture Mr Theodoros Pangalos, May 2000

During his visit to London as a guest of the British Government for the inauguration of the new " Tate Modern' gallery, the Greek Minister of Culture Mr Theodoros Pangalos redefined Greece's policy goals with regard to the return of the Parthenon sculptures. Speaking in London to Greek journalists on 13 May 2000, he outlined a policy statement based on the following principles:

"The issue is not confined to the agenda between two governments. It is a matter between two peoples and their respective parliaments. The British Parliament, having entrusted the Parthenon sculptures to the British Museum, is the only authority that can change the situation. The British Government with its parliamentary majority can naturally bring this about speedily but we do not consider this simply as an issue between our two governments.

There need not be any winners and losers in the solution of this long-standing problem. There is no legal claim against anyone in this case and no adjudication is required.

The return of the Parthenon sculptures is simply a matter of co-operation between the Greek and the British peoples in the wider European context to which they both belong.

Who owns the sculptures is unimportant, irrelevant and immaterial. What matters is where they are and where they should be. On this point I believe that we have a very strong case, which is the continuity and the integrity of the unique monument known as the Parthenon. This monument, let me point out, was not built by Pericles as a storehouse for free-standing sculptures. The Parthenon sculptures were conceived and created as an integral part of the temple. Having kept them apart from the rest of the monument for nearly two centuries is long enough and should no longer be tolerated. The time has come for the re-unification of the monument on its original Acropolis site. Therefore, what we ask is for the sculptures to be returned so that they can be housed in a new state-of-the art Acropolis Museum that will be ready by 2004. The integrity of the monument will thus be restored on its original site with the sculptures displayed against the background of the Parthenon and in visual contact with the temple. In the meantime, we will continue to explain our position and press for the return of the Parthenon sculptures in due course.

Returning the sculptures to Greece need not, should not and will not diminish Greece's presence in the British Museum. Quite the contrary, in fact. For one thing, full use can be made of modern technology that can produce copies of the originals so perfect that these can be distinguished from the originals only through elaborate chemical analysis. There is also the possibility of holding periodic exhibitions of valuable, rare and stunning Greek antiquities in London on loan from Greek Museums. The great British Museum might even see its worldwide prestige and appeal enhanced if our proposal for a negotiated return of the Parthenon sculptures implemented.

Returning the Parthenon sculptures to Greece need not and should not create a precedent , leading to claims for the general restitution of cuItural property to the countries of origin and thus depleting the great museums of valuable exhibits. I wish to emphasize yet again that we request the return, of only those sculptures removed from the Parthenon by Lord Elgin and that we make no general claim for the restitution of any other artefacts. We simply want restore the unity of a unique monument which is the supreme symbol of the Greek cultural heritage and western civilization."

Launching the Anglo-Hellenic dialogue on the Parthenon Marbles

Abridged from Culture Watch, Press office, Greek Embassy, London.

A discussion on the Parthenon Marbles on Monday 5 June was organised by the 'Culture, Media and Sport Committee' in the context of its inquiry on 'Cultural Property: Return and Illicit Trade' at the House of Commons. Questions, some really hard-hitting, were asked by the members of the Committee and answers were given by Mr George Papandreou, Greek Foreign Minister and Mrs Lena Mendoni, General Secretary of the Ministry of Culture representing the Greek Government. Mr Jules Dassin, film director, head of the 'Melina Mercouri Foundation' contributed to the discussion by his crisp, short and witty remarks making full use of the greater freedom of expression that his non-official status afforded him.

Ownership of the Marbles irrelevant, location important As the Greek side presented their case in flawless English independent observers noted a change of emphasis in the Greek argument on two points: a) There was a certain 'dilution' of the

ownership issue leading to less recrimination and more stress on the 'partnership' approach; b) the formal undertaking that the new state-of-the-art Acropolis Museum will be ready to house the Marbles before the 'Athens 2004' Olympics, the implication being that until this happens the campaign for the return of the Marbles will focus on the issue of principle rather than on any immediate implementation.

Mr Papandreou centred his argument on the need to reunify the Parthenon. He never once mentioned any rights of inheritance that modern Greeks might claim from Pericles. He was polite, firm and creative in his proposals. He floated in a tantalising way a number of original ideas excluding nothing and promising much. He insisted on the merits of a property structured dialogue that would provide solutions to all problems and sort out all the details to everybody's satisfaction.

Did the Greek Government - Mr Fearn wanted to know - base its claim for a return of the Marbles on the contention that Lord Elgin took them off the Parthenon wrongfully in the first place? Well, Mr Papandreou wasn't there to rake over events that happened two centuries ago. Better let the past take care of itself. Even what happened to the Marbles in the British Museum in the late 30s he considered a matter for scholars, not central to the case he was making today.

The chairman was more insistent. Since the Committee was looking at cases of illicit trade of works of art it was important to establish whether Lord Elgin had acquired these treasures illicitly or not. So could the Minister enlighten the Committee members on this issue? Yes indeed, this allegation has been part of the Greek argument until now but Greece does not intend to pursue it in the courts. Jules Dassin was more outspoken: Yes, Lord Elgin's title was dubious but this is all water under the bridge. The emphasis now is on reconciliation, in sweetness and light.

No legal claims, no court case, emphasis on partnership So who would own the Marbles in future? members wondered and wanted to know. Mr Papandreou sketched out a number of possibilities. There might be co-ownership with the British Museum, the Marbles might come under the custodianship of a new foundation under UNESCO, even the European Union's involvement might be the subject of a dialogue between the interested parties. Quoting Culture Minister Mr Pangalos (now replaced by Mr Evangelos Venizelos) the Foreign Minister repeated that 'the issue of ownership is immaterial and irrelevant. The question arising is where these Marbles are now and where they should be'.

Mr Fearn wanted to know whether he was right in thinking that there would never be a court case by Greece to get the Marbles back. Yes he was right in thinking that, came the unambiguous answer. Was Britain the only country holding bits of Parthenon? No, but she has 98% of all the Parthenon pieces held outside the country. Greece, the Foreign Minister said, is not claiming any other artefacts, she is simply trying to reassemble all the missing parts of a unique monument.

Reassemble them where exactly? Mr Wyatt wanted to know. Since they would not go back to the Parthenon itself, but just to another Museum how can one speak of 'reintegration'? Here the answer was more elaborate. Mr Papandreou pointed out that due to structural damage done to the Parthenon when the Marbles were removed and to the present fear of pollution, repositioning them is now well nigh impossible. On the other hand, placing them in the new Museum-to-be in visual contact with the Parthenon would allow scholars to study them in situ.

Britain to be a country privileged in exhibiting Greek art What could Greece do to make it easier for the British Museum to let the Marbles go? Well, a

great deal actually. Britain could become the only country in the world with a permanent rotating exhibition of ancient Greek art. There would thus be no gap, no empty rooms in the British Museum. At this point Jules Dassin added that there are extraordinary riches in the BM's storerooms that could be displayed for the world to enjoy. Asked by the chairman whether he meant that by taking back the Marbles, the Greeks would be thus doing a favour to the British Museum, Jules Dassin replied : 'We come with warm feelings. We love you'.

Mr Papandreou also mentioned the possibilities of making true copies of the Marbles for the British Museum as modern technology now allows. He said unequivocally that Greece would pay for them. Answering a remark by Mr Maxton that this could of course work the other way around as well, the Greek Minister pointed out that it would be logical for the originals to be with the originals and not the copies with the originals. Mr Maxton admitted that there was no answer to that. The hearing was concluded with Mr Papandreou emphasising that the Marbles have a past but also a future and that Greeks and Britons could shape that future together.

Why Athens and not London

1. Because the monument to which they belong, namely the Parthenon, is in Athens. 2. Because in Athens the Marbles will be exhibited close to the Parthenon and within sight

of it, and the visitor can form a complete picture of the temple in its entirety. 3. Because they form an inseparable part of the monument – the symbol of Greek Classical

civilisation at its apogee. The restitution of the Marbles will restore the unity of the decoration and the architectural cohesion of the monument.

4. Because the British have an obligation, not to Greece but to the cultural heritage of the whole world, to restore its symbol, the Parthenon, which is also the emblem of UNESCO.

The restoration of the Acropolis

The most ambitious restoration programme in Greece, and perhaps one of the most extensive and important in the world, is currently under way on the Acropolis.

Its execution is based on studies that were previously subjected to international scrutiny at scientific meetings and approved in accordance with the requirements of the law and strict scientific standards.

The work has already been completed on the Erechtheion, is presently continuing on the Parthenon and Propylaea and is scheduled to begin on the Temple of Athena Nike.

The restoration work on the Parthenon today is targeted primarily at

its structural preservation the conservation of its surfaces the maximum degree of protection for the sculptures correcting the positions of previously restored blocks

the supplementary restoration of certain sections, mainly using existing, fallen blocks belonging to the building.

The restoration programme, which is in the vanguard of comparable scientific research in this field, shows in the clearest fashion the consequences of the mutiliation of the Parthenon by Elgin and his assistants.

The Greek Ministry of Culture works very closely with the Melina Mercouri Foundation on the issue of the Parthenon Marbles. You can visit the Melina Mercouri Foundation web site, (it will open in a new window) where you can read more about the plans of the Greek government concerning the Acropolis, the New Acropolis Museum, the Parthenon and the Parthenon Marbles.

BRITISH OBJECTIONS ANSWERED

The British arguments against returning the Marbles are:

1. They were bought legitimately from the Turks on the basis of a legal document -- the Sultan's firman .

2. The object in taking them was to save them from total destruction.

3. The Greeks were indifferent to the fate of their ancient treasures at the time.

4. Air pollution levels in Athens would quickly damage the Marbles.

Let us answer these points one by one.

They were bought legitimately. This argument is invalid because any purchase from the conqueror in a conquered land is like buying stolen articles from a thief or robber. Anyway, there is no evidence that the Marbles were purchased legitimately. The various local Turkish officials were bribed by the British with luxurious presents.

They were taken to save them from destruction. Elgin not only did terrible damage to the Parthenon and the Erechtheum when he removed their sculptures, he also, in his effort to take as much as he could, sawed some of the sculptures in half to reduce their weight and make transporting them easier.

The Greeks were indifferent. There is little doubt that any Greek protests would have been quickly and brutally suppressed by the Turks. When the French consul in Athens protested at the removal of the Marbles he was imprisoned by the Turks.

Of course there were indications that the Greeks grieved for their looted treasures, including the myth that the Caryatids could be heard wailing at night for their missing sister, and the claims by porters carrying the statues who thought they could hear cries coming from the figures in the crates.

Edward Dodwell, writing in 1812, also mentions in his book that at the time of his travels in Greece the Athenians were lamenting the ruining of their antiquities and reviling the Turks for giving permission to foreigners to remove them.

Also in 1812, a group of distinguished Athenians, two of whom were members of the secret Philike Etairia (Friendly Society), founded the Philomusical Society (Society of the Friends of Music), whose members included Lord Guildford. One of the Society's aims was the protection of ancient monuments.

Finally Lusieri himself admitted to Elgin in a letter that "If I cannot remove the entire Pandrossium (the colonnade of the Caryatids) I do not despair about one of the Caryatids. But the Greeks are devoted to it." (i.e. the Pandrossium).

Air pollution would destroy the Marbles This argument is completely unacceptable because the Marbles suffered far more damage from their lengthy stay in the heavily polluted atmosphere of London than they would have done if they had stayed in Athens where pollution is only a very recent phenomenon.

Lord Elgin admitted to the House of Commons that London's dampness had caused decay to the sensitive Pentelic marble. This was in 1816.

But the fact remains that when an ancient work of art is removed from its original setting it loses most of its value and becomes merely an item of archaeological interest.

The British Museum, to this day, tries to present Elgin as a lover of antiquity who dedicated himself to rescuing Pheidias' sculptures from ultimate destruction. But the facts of the case present a very different picture. With the Sultan's firman in his hand, Elgin seemed to think he had been given the right to take away anything he could lay his hands on. His actions didn't pass unnoticed. A lot of Members of Parliament protested against Elgin's action in the House of Commons but over the course of time were forgotten.

There were also a lot of English writers, among them Lord Byron, who wrote that Elgin was a marble stealer and robber and his only interest was fame and glory from showing the Marbles.

THE NEW ACROPOLIS MUSEUM

New design accepted by Greek government

The results of the second competition to design the New Acropolis Museum have been announced by the Greek government. The competition was won by Bernard Tschumi, a Swiss-born architect now based in New York. His design includes a glass structure which will one day house the Parthenon Marbles when the British government is finally persuaded to return those in its possession to Greece.

The Greek Embassy in London said: "With this project, which does cost a lot of money, we're simply manifesting in a practical way our commitment to completing this project in the expectation that the Parthenon sculptures will grace the new rooms of the museum in Athens. This shows our determination to forge ahead."

The winning design was chosen from a shortlist of 12. Construction will begin next spring, and the architect says that he is confident of completing the museum in time for the 2004 Olympic Games which will be held in Athens.

The winning design for the museum, which will be located 300 yards from the Parthenon, includes a rectangular glass gallerythat will display the Parthenon Marbles with exactly the same dimensions they once occupied on the Parthenon.

Visitors to the museum will be able to see the Parthenon from the glass gallery. Moreover, the new design allows exhibits to be seen in natural light and incorporates a number of on-site excavations, including a large urban settlement dating from Archaic to Early Christian Athens, which forced the abandonment of the winning design of the original competition and the organising of a new competition for designs to take into account the changes necessary in view of developments on the site. The contrast with the present display of the Parthenon Marbles in London could hardly be greater.

The upper glass gallery will be called the Parthenon Hall and will remain empty until the section of the original frieze still in the possession of the British Museum has been returned to Greece.

When archaeologists began excavating the proposed site of the Museum they uncovered an early Christian town. This caused a dilemma. It is important to keep the museum as close to the Acropolis as possible, but any area near the Acropolis is almost certain to produce important archaeological finds when fully excavated.

Finally it was decided to leave the archaeological finds where they are, as exhibits, and to build the museum above them. This secured the site for the Archaeological Museum. The site is unique as the museum would be facing the Parthenon directly. At the same time it would be possible to preserve and display the great wealth of archaeological material from other periods.

Unfortunately there has been a lot of controversy over the decision to build the museum above the archaeological remains. For that reason we reprint below a press release from the Chairman of the British Committee for the Restitution of the Parthenon Marbles who recently visited the site.

THE NEW ACROPOLIS MUSEUM

Statement by Professor Snodgrass, Professor Emeritus of Classical Archaeology, University of Cambridge

" The new Acropolis Museum represents a notably fine and acclaimed design, destined to become world-famous on its completion in 2004. Furthermore, construction is being accompanied by an equally rare degree of sensitivity and respect for the ancient structures brought to light in the preparation of its site.

On 16th July, together with the Vice-Chairman (Mr. Christopher Price) and the Secretary (Mrs. Eleni Cubitt) of the British Committee for the Restitution of the Parthenon Marbles, and Executive Director (Mr. David Hill) I was given a conducted tour of the site of the new Museum by the Director of the project, Professor Dimitrios Pandermalis. The main focus of the visit was on the archaeological excavations which will underlie the new building.

Besides being impressively preserved, these remains have the added interest of belonging mainly to the later Roman Imperial and Early Christian eras which, in Greece as in many Mediterranean countries, have been less fully studied than their predecessors. This makes it particularly fortunate that they are to receive such special treatment. A small sector of the site, in accordance with standard archaeological practice with well-preserved but fragile architecture, will be back-filled with loose earth. Another sector will be open to the air, but covered by a projecting canopy which forms part of the design of the new building. But the largest sector of all will become one of the showpieces of the Museum itself, viewed from above through glass panels in the floor of the ramp by which visitors climb up to the galleries. Bernard Tschumi's winning design for the building places it on a series of upright supports, and these will be carefully located so as to avoid piercing ancient floors or walls.

Two days before our visit, a series of alarmist stories had begun to appear in the British press, to the effect that, by a piece of 'cultural vandalism', the remains underlying the Museum were being 'destroyed'; and that a different site should have been chosen for it all along.

Remarkably, it appears that the Athens correspondent of the Guardian, with whom the story seems to have originated, had not visited the site or even, checked the facts with the Director; nor, equally remarkably, had the Athens-based archaeologists who were the primary sources for the story. The correspondent preferred to rely instead on "video clips seen by the Guardian".

This is like sneaking into a hospital, catching a glimpse of a delicate surgical operation through the window of the operating theatre, and then accusing the surgeons of murder."

Note: The pictures on this page are from May 2002 and may not show the final design of the museum.

THE BRITISH COMMITTEE FOR THE RESTITUTION OF THE PARTHENON MARBLES

The British Committee was set up in 1983. This was in response to Melina Mercouri's initiative in calling for the return of the Parthenon sculptures to Greece at an international conference of Ministers of Culture in 1982. The Committee's objective is to bring together all the separated parts of the fabric of the Parthenon, so restoring the integrity of the monument.

At that time most Britons believed that the marbles had been purchased in order to preserve them from destruction, and that they were now housed where the civilised world could see them best.

The Committee has accumulated an impressive archive on the actual history of the removal. It has mobilised informed opinion. It has won the support of an ever-growing number of people, including academics, museologists, politicians, lawyers and an impressive number of personalities in the arts and media.

As a consequence, there has been a radical change in public opinion. More and more people accept the evidence that the sculptures were taken without the sanction of the Greek people and that their treatment in the care of the British Museum is open to question.

The British also realise that the best place in which to see the monuments is where they belong. They now begin to understand the importance to Greece -- and to the rest of the world -- of maintaining the integrity of a monument that is both a unique masterpiece and a symbol of Greek nationhood.

Among its many activities the committee has arranged debates and radio, television and newspaper polls. All have been conducted by recognised research institutes. All have heavily favoured restitution.

There yet remains one more campaign -- against establishment opinion. This does not countenance argument but employs every device of prejudice. But its weakness is that it no longer has any case to make. So long as we persevere, we shall win.

On this page we will keep visitors informed of the activities of the British Committee. Below we publish extracts from the January 1999 newsletter. Campaign news from the British Committee appears on the Campaign Update page.

If you wish to contact the British Committee for the Restitution of the Parthenon Marbles, please write to the secretary, Eleni Cubitt at 5, St Paul's Place, London N1 2QD, UK or visit their website at www.parthenonuk.com

Who owns what? The parts belong to the whole

by Graham Binns, chairperson, British Committee for the Restitution of the Parthenon Marbles

The Parthenon, a building significant to European civilisation, happens to be in Athens. It is best understood in the context of the monuments that surround it. A part of the building has, through the course of history, been detached from its structure. It would be sensible to exhibit these detached parts close to the building itself so that it can be studied as a whole. This is not so much a question of who owns these parts as a matter of recognising the best way of allowing us all to see and to understand the Parthenon.

As, with minor exceptions, all the detached parts that are not in Greece are in Britain, and as both countries respect the values that the building represents, it would be shameful if trivial prejudices were to obstruct the restitution of the "Elgin" Marbles --not to Greece, but to the Parthenon. This issue is not just a tussle between Greece and Britain. It is a matter of how best we can all enjoy our inheritance.

In an interview with Jeremy Paxman on 19 November 1998, Dr Anderson, the director of the British Museum, spoke of the museum's "legal title", at the same time acknowledging the historical circumstances that prevailed when the sculpted parts of the Parthenon's structure were acquired. The "legal title" is yet to be tested, but for Dr Anderson to rest his case upon it indicates a shockingly blinkered view. We are not stuck in a time warp. In 1770 Captain Cook hoisted English colours over New South Wales, but Dr Anderson would acknowledge that this historical circumstance has been overtaken. So it is with the Marbles. Times have changed. Questions of ownership can, with goodwill, be resolved. Professor Venizelos, the Greek Minister of Culture, has shown this goodwill in his approaches to our Mr Smith, but Mr Smith continues,

like the late Mr Molotov, to say Niet! Niet! Niet! all the time, while refusing to take part in any really constructive discussion of the issue. It is not beyond the wit and wisdom of governments to sort out some procedure, some quid pro quo that will satisfy British Elginian amour propre. That is the sort of thing politicians are for. So dear Mr Smith, the Greeks are waiting to talk, UNESCO is asking you to talk, and a great number of British people want you to talk --with an open mind and a willingness to seek agreement with friends. Why not?

When this campaign was renewed in the 1980s, the Parthenon sculptures were not a popular issue in Britain. Now, not only is there a wide awareness of the circumstances of the case but on every test the people and their elected representatives tend to favour restitution. That's progress! Now we want to urge a final surge forward so that by 2004, when the Olympic Games go to Athens, when the world is watching and the new museum at the foot of the Acropolis is opened, the Marbles will be there to grace it.

Clean, honest and truthful?

William St Clair's updated third edition of his Lord Elgin and the Marbles, published in June, disclosed an act of artistic vandalism that the Trustees of the British Museum had kept secret for 60 years. Many of the sculptures had been scrubbed and scraped in an attempt to whiten them by removing original paint and patina. Following an internal inquiry which examined only three of the damaged Marbles, the museum suppressed all information on the matter. Mr St Clair and other scholars repeatedly asked to see the relevant documents. The museum refused, claiming that further sensitive papers added to the file after 1939 gave it legal sanction to extend the 30-year rule of secrecy.

This cover-up has, if anything, extended the gravity of the original offence from 1939 up to the present day. The museum continues to be shifty. It has announced that it intends to hold an international conference in November 1999 (17 months after Mr St Clair's revelations) to report on its own findings and also to widen the discussion to include the condition and treatment of similar monuments elsewhere since the 1930s. The clear intention is to obfuscate the issue by attempting to identify scandalous mistreatment of artefacts elsewhere and so spread the odium over a wider area. It is a well known defensive tactic, deceives no one, and is surely unworthy of a great institution. The scandal that has at last been fully uncovered relates to the British Museum alone.

 

Why we should make a great gift to the Greeks

by Christopher Hitchens

When John Major restored the Stone of Scone to Edinburgh nobody said that if it went on like this there wouldn't be one stone to pile upon another in Westminster Abbey. When the British Museum returned a portion of the beard of the Sphinx to Egypt so that the fabulous couchant beast could be properly restored, nobody howled about the emptying of the world's galleries. When the Lane Collection was returned to Dublin, the sky remained in place.

But just you try mentioning the British Museum's Elgin collection on a radio show or in a pub or simply in conversation, and some saloon-bar philosopher is absolutely certain to strike up. Give

them back and where will it all end, the museum's of Europe the denuded, Bloomsbury a place of banging shutters and tumbleweed...

There are two reasons for this endless incantation, which is nearly as durable as the simple pun on "losing our marbles" which every saloon-bar savant believes he has coined for the first time. The first reason is the pricking of a poor conscience. Even people who claim that Lord Elgin rescued the Marbles from a worse fate -- an argument which does have some truth to it -- are dimly aware that by saving the property of a neighbour you do not become the sole owner of that property.

It's also quite well understood that Elgin negotiated the removal with the then Turkish occupiers, and that the Greeks were helpless to prevent their colonial bosses from disposing of treasures they did not especially rever. No great cause for British pride there.

The second reason has to do with a simple misunderstanding. No international law governs the allocation of sculptures, paintings, bronzes or any other artefact. And there is no international body, let alone an international authority, to which application can be made. The European Parliament can express an opinion, if it so desires, and so may UNESCO for all the good that may do. But what any nation "has", by way of museum objects, it is free to hold or to return.

The whole question of precedent, then, is a huge waste of breath. There are no precedents, only individual instances like the ones I mentioned above.

In the case of the Parthenon sculptures, to give them their proper name, the precedent argument is unusually silly. For one thing, the Greeks do not want anything else "back". They are rather pleased that samples of the heroic age are on display everywhere. But the sculpture that was cast under the direction of Phidias himself, to adorn the Temple of Athena, is as close as you can come to a unique case. In 500 or so feet of almost breathing stone, it tells a story. It was cast as a unity. It is an integral part of perhaps the most beautiful building that still survives from antiquity.

If the Marbles were a canvas, and that canvass had been arbitrarily cut or torn in two, and the two halves were in separate galleries they would have been reunited by now on aesthetic grounds alone. Short of moving the rest of the Parthenon to Great Russell Street, there is only one way that an intelligent visitor will ever be able to see the whole design, and that is by an act of generous restitution. To hear some people talk, you would think that such a restitution would cause the Marbles to disappear from view. But during the past few years the Greek authorities have been taking the matter very seriously. A new museum is in preparation, on the slopes of the Acropolis, in which it will be possible to house all the sculpture in one place, in controlled conditions which will prevent damage from pollution. This one place will be right next to the temple, so that a student can view the building and its decoration in the exact historical geographic and architectural context, all in one day. It is partly the fault of the Greeks that this was not possible before, so that the long-running argument over the sculpture, which began when Byron first lampooned Lord Elgin in Childe Harold's Pilgrimage in 1817, has always been a case of either/or. Should we give them back, or have we acquired nine points of the law by careful possession? Deadlock and constipation and amour-propre.

Now, a completely different proposition can be made. Would the British people, through their parliament, care to become co-sponsors of a restored Acropolis, complete with its Parthenon centrepiece? I do not think the handsomeness of this offer has begun to be appreciated. Picture the scene. The museum is opened in the shadow of the Acropolis. The Speaker of the House of

Commons, and the Prime Minister, perhaps, are honoured guests of the Greek parliament. They jointly announce that, for the first time in almost two hundred years, the caryatids, Lapiths, Centaurs, horses and chariots can be seen as they were intended to be seen, as an aesthetic unity. At least one of the ravages of time, war and chaos has been, as far as is humanely possible, undone.

In Greek and Cypriot tavernas all over the world, it is announced that on this day British guests eat and drink for nothing. A stone on the site records that, like Gladstone's return of the Ionian Islands, a great act of magnanimity and symmetry has been performed by the islanders of the North Sea.

Something like this was actually proposed by the Tory MP Thelma Cazalet in the Commons in 1944. The gesture then was intended to commemorate the moment when Britain and Greece had been sole partners in the fight against Nazi imperialism. That chance was missed, thanks to pettifogging in the Foreign Office, and the old, grudging repetitions were resumed.

But now there's no excuse. Nobody needs to give anything up. Everybody can be a winner. It would be a shame, I think, churlishly to decline such an offer. But no doubt there will be those who want to go to the last ditch, grumbling in their warm beer that the next thing you know we'll be appeasing the Babylonians.

This article is reproduced with kind permission of Christopher Hitchens and the Evening Standard, in which it appeared on 4 March 1998.

Time to make Greeks a gift of their Marbles

By Isabel Hilton

Back in the bright new dawn of the Labour government, when the nation was still creeping across the stage like the prisoners' chorus in Fidelio, blinking in the unaccustomed brightness of the day, a sudden, discordant note was struck. It wasn't very loud, but loud enough to jolt the harmony. It came from the freshly minted Minister of Culture: in Mr Smith's first policy disclosure, the Minister declared that, contrary to widespread expectation and in defiance of what appears to be the majority opinion of the British public, the so-called Elgin Marbles would not be returning to Athens. They were, he said, an integral part of the British museum's collection and it was not a "feasible or a sensible option" to send them back. It was a bit like saying that Hong Kong was an integral part of Britain's collection of colonies: true enough, in its way, but not, at this stage in history, quite the view you expect a Labour government to embrace.

The pronouncement caused consternation in Athens, but some dismay in this country, too. The rejoicing in Greece at the news of the Labour government's landslide was founded on a promise made by the former Labour leader Neil Kinnock, 12 years ago. The Parthenon without its marble frieze, Mr Kinnock had said, was like a smile without a tooth. The Marbles, he pledged, would be returned as soon as the Labour Party gained power.

What changed their minds? It can hardly have been the fear of a backlash. Last June, in the wake of a channel 4 poll which showed an overwhelming majority of the British people in favour of the return of the Marbles, more than 100 MPs signed an early day motion calling on the Conservative government to enter into immediate negotiations. In the European Parliament 250 MEPs, including more than 40 Labour members, supported a similar motion. If the polls are to

be believed, they could even have achieved that rare thing in politics -- doing well by doing good. No wonder the Greek Minister of Culture, Evangelos Venizelos, whose slightly precipitate enthusiasm had provoked Mr Smith's response, was stunned.

The arguments against return have grown steadily more threadbare over the years, though a number of myths have lodged themselves in the darker corners of the British consciousness. One is that the seventh Earl of Elgin somehow rescued the Marbles from the Parthenon, where passing Barbarians would undoubtedly have destroyed them. In fact, Lord Elgin, who at the time was British ambassador to Constantinople, was on a personal shopping expedition looking for useful bits of antiquity with which to decorate the country seat he was having built back home. His original intention was to copy them, but when that proved difficult and the opportunity arose to remove the originals he seized it.

The poor Greeks, who were part of the Ottoman empire at time, had no say in the matter and the Turks cared less about the fact that a frieze the Greeks placed at the centre of their identity and culture was being hacked off and carted away than they did about securing British support against Napoleon.

It was only later --in 1816 -- when his marriage had collapsed and he had lost both his diplomatic position and his seat in the Lords, that Lord Elgin sold them to the nation to recover some of his costs. Even at the time, some thought the whole episode a disgrace to a nation that prided itself on its lofty cultural values -- the most famous of them being Lord Byron.

The Marbles have now been demanded many times by successive, democratically elected governments of Greece, which is a fellow member of Nato, the European Union and the Council of Europe. The notion that they are safer in London no longer stands; the Barbarians are no more of a threat in Athens than in London and the Greek government, which has spent millions of pounds on the restoration and conservation of cultural objects, is currently building a special Museum at the foot of the Acropolis to house the models. There they would be protected from the air pollution that serves as another part of the British case for retention.

It's an old argument, but surely one that we should now settle. British museums are, course, stuffed with other nations' treasures, many acquired in circumstances that do not bear examination in the light of today's moral and cultural values. But the Elgin Marbles are unique not only in their ranking as one of the world's greatest cultural artefacts: they are at the heart of Greek cultural identity. As Professor John Boardman put it: 'the story of the Parthenon...embraces the beginnings of organised religious life in Greece...the physical, political, economic, social and military history of Athens itself."

For generations, cultured Britons have studied ancient Greece as a prime source of the cultural mix we define as British. Such studies were thought to enrich both the cultural and the moral understanding. Now that we have a proper Minister of Culture in a government that proclaims itself intent on joining the modern world, surely we can abandon the fustian pretence that the Parthenon Marbles play a more important cultural role in Bloomsbury than they did -- and would again -- in Greece.

A substantial part of the article time to make Greeks a gift of the Marbles has been reproduced here with kind permission of Isabel Hilton and the Guardian.

 

Numbers game

The Director of the British Museum observed in November that six million visitors see the Parthenon Marbles annually in his museum. It is as well that he has quoted a round figure as there is no system of counting visitors, either to the Museum as a whole or to the Duveen Gallery, where the Parthenon Marbles are displayed. Neither would anyone who has visited the Acropolis in Athens be willing to take a bet on the British Museum having the greater number of visitors. But a Times editorial still says "more people will be able to see the marbles in London" than in Athens. Better still, perhaps, ship them to Beijing; there are even more museum-visitors there.

NO PLACE LIKE HOME FOR ELGIN'S LOOTED TREASURES

By Neal Ascherson

It's time to start talking about the Elgin Marbles again. Or rather to start talking about the "Parthenon Sculptures", because the stones in the British Museum are only a part of a whole, and much of the rest is still in Athens. It is time that the sculptures in London went back to Greece.

This is an ancient argument. Ever since the British Museum acquired the marbles from Lord Elgin in 1816, there have been passionate British voices pleading that they should go back to Athens. But the argument seemed to be gradually working its way to a conclusion by early 1997.

The Greeks had met most of the traditional objections. A new modern Acropolis museum to house and protect them is being built, the British Museum would be provided with a full set of casts to replace the originals, and Britain would not be asked to pay for moving them. The museum still disagreed. But public opinion in this country seemed to be shifting decisively in favour of a return, and 109 MP's in the last Parliment-including 10 who are now ministers in Tony Blair's administration-signed and Early-Day motion for restitution.

Then, suddenly, the process jerked to a halt. Almost within hours of Labour's election victory, Chris Smith, the new minister of culture, told a questioner that the marbles were "an integral part" of the British Museum, and their return was not on the agenda. The Greeks were shocked; The British Committee for the Restitution of the Parthenon Marbles was appalled. And there, for the moment, things rest.

But they won't rest for long. A new edition of Christopher Hitchen's book The Elgin Marbles, revised and updated, will go on sale early in the new year. Reading its proofs-the most convincing case for return since Byron's furious protests-made me go back to the museum last week and have another look. To be honest, I have always respected the marbles but never loved them. Yes, it's a miracle that they survive at all, after 2,500 years. But the mutilation and the gaps, the handless arms and headless necks, fill me with horror. The Turks, Byzantine-Christian vandals, Lord Elgin's klutzy workmen and over two millennia of weather have all chewed and chipped and scraped away at the great friezes and the statuary of metopes and pediments until what remains feels as much an atrocity as a masterpiece. Complete, or even less damaged, those solemn processions of young menand girls, doomed oxen and raging horses would be one of the world's wonders. As it is, I get more out of the vulgar battle of the Titans on the Pergamon altar

in Berlin. At least they are mostly there, and you don't have to struggle with the "how it must once have looked" enigma.

When one nation appropriates the treasures of another into its own culture, you have to ask what the new owners get out of it. It's been the custom to scold the modern Greeks for their "irrational" wish to get the sculptures back. Sir David Wilson, then director of the British Musem, declared nine years ago on television that the Greek demand was "cultural fascism...it's nationalism, and it's cultural danger". Leaving fascism aside (not least because the Greeks have suffered a great deal more of it than the British), this implies that British possession of the Parthenon Marbles has been a matter of quiet, balanced appreciation. Not so!

The marbles were transfigured into supporters of British 19th-century imperial identity, They helped to confirm, for instance, the idea of Britain as the universal civilising force. The Victorians disliked comparisons with Imperial Rome-too much crude force and debauchery. Instead, they preferred to fancy some continuity with the world of classical Greece. They imagined this "Hellenic civilisation" as dominion founded on cultural and moral superiority rather than on crushing military strength and modern industrial technology. (That was a travesty of history; the power of Athens rested on victorious war and the export of high-quality manufactures, not on Socrates and democracy. But national and imperial myth is usually made of travesties.)

Then there was the style of the sculptures. The Victorians adored "naturalism". All other styles were seen as primitive; art had its own law of development which led upwards until it culminated in a photographic realism based on exact reproduction of the retina-image of human anatomy. After all, the art of the Empire's native subjects in benighted continents always "deformed" natural objects. The bronze-workers of Benin, the Canadian tribesmen fashioning totem poles, the Bushman cave painters or the Maori carvers were highly skilled in their own ways but apparently unable to produce an accurate figure drawing or still life. Early archaeology showed that pre-historic peoples in Europe had been inadequate in the same way.

Plainly, Victorian Britain concluded, "stylised" art was the expression of backward, incomplete minds. Only the classical Greeks, and by imitation the Romans, had previously achieved artistic mastery- exact reproduction. So naturalism seemed to be the art of imperial destiny, prefigured on the Parthenon.

And the bodies on the Parthenon Marbles-they were pulled into the Victorian myth as well. Those bodies were young, physically perfect, mostly naked and mostly male. The suited the late-Victorian imperial cult of (male) youth and strength and decency-mens sana in corpore sano. Again, the pagan and "native" cultures of the Empire almost all allowed for customs abhorrent and indecent to Victorian Christianity, and this moral backwardness was in turn associated with their inability to achieve realism in art.

In short, the Greek wish to have the sculptures back is not nearly as weird and mystical as the British passion to keep them has been. It's a bit like attitudes to the Stone of Destiny. The Scots wanted it back, on the rational grounds that it had been pinched from them in the past. But it was the English who turned out to have charged the Stone with magical powers in the Coronation ritual, and it was the Dean of Westminster-not the Scots-who protested that it had "religious significance".

But that passion for the marbles is ebbing. I think that it's no accident that public interest in them has declined steeply since the end of Britain's colonial empire. The British self-image has changed, and the marbles are no longer required to prop it up.

"Integral" to the British Museum? As Christopher Hitchens points out, it's a striking word. If the sculptures are integral to anything, it is to the Parthenon-and literally so, for many of the reliefs were carved into the building itself rather than clapped on as decoration. This means that the marbles are not isolated "art objects" on their own, but part of something else. And that, in turn, punctures the objection that their return would set a precendent for the restitution of every "foreign" vase or statuette in the world's museums.

The British Museum has cared well for the marbles, on the whole. It has allowed the British to draw from them a special sort of national inspiration. But that particular inspiration is no longer required. The museum's moral trusteeship for the Parthenon Marbles is over, and they should now go home.

Reprinted, with permission, from the Independent on Sunday .

CULTURAL TREASURES AND SLIPPERY SLOPES

By Richard JoyceUniversity of Sheffield / RSSS, Australian National University

1. Cultural Treasures

This paper addresses some of the moral issues surrounding the question of returning cultural treasures to their places of origin. It does not pretend to be a complete discussion, and has two points of focus. First, the main body of the paper is concerned with disarming an argument commonly deployed against the proposal that such items ought to be returned: the slippery slope argument. The suspicions that are raised about such arguments are intended to be quite general, and applicable to other moral debates. Second, this paper has an interest in utilizing these general results for a particular case—that of the reliefs and statuary from the Parthenon (the so-called "Elgin Marbles"), housed in the British Museum since the early nineteenth century. This example has been chosen not merely because it is the cause célèbre of such cases, but because it lacks attributes that might otherwise cloud discussion (e.g., the marbles were not, in any obvious way, stolen), and because in nearly all formal debates on the matter over the years (e.g., in the House of Lords), "fear of setting a precedent" has been raised as the major consideration against return. Besides, it is pleasing to take philosophical discussion and apply it directly not merely to a type of moral case, but to a particular problem.

These issues are not discussed here from a legal point of view, but from a moral point of view. Nor (perhaps surprisingly) is this paper concerned with the issue of ownership, since ownership is primarily a legal category. It seems, however, that in the popular rhetoric over cultural treasures there is often employed a vague notion of "moral ownership": that, irrespective of the legalities, certain countries or groups enjoy "rights of possession" over certain objects, in virtue,

presumably, of a lineage of transferal of rights. Perhaps a solid moral argument might be forged out of such ideas, but it is not attempted here. It is for this reason that this paper uses the term "cultural treasures", and eschews talk of "cultural property", the term favored by much of the debate on this issue. First, it will be established how one might create a moral presumption in favor of the return of a cultural treasure without recourse to an appeal to property rights. But the major part of the paper is devoted to the task of combating a common counter-argument that is raised even once such a presumption is granted—namely, that returning any such item will "open the flood-gates" to a disastrous result, and thus, irrespective of any prima facie case, no return should be countenanced.

In order to create the moral presumption, it is useful to think by analogy of items of sentimental value to individuals. Suppose that Jack buys a pocket watch from a used goods store. He buys it fair and square, under perfectly legitimate circumstances. Now suppose that he subsequently discovers that this very watch is of great sentimental value to some family. Nobody stole it from them—let's say that an irresponsible family member pawned the watch without the knowledge of the others. Finally, let's stipulate that the watch really is of immense significance to the family—perhaps it's the last tangible reminder of a deceased family member—and its absence is, quite reasonably, the object of significant emotional distress. What are the relevant moral features of such a situation?

The pocket watch is Jack's, not the family's, and they have no right to claim it. Legally, they don't have a leg to stand on, and it would seem that morally Jack is under no obligation to make them happy by returning it. Nevertheless, anyone who thought that there ends the moral issue would be misguided. Clearly, there are any number of terms of moral censure that could be legitimately applied to Jack if he keeps the watch, knowing of the suffering this causes: he is mean, hard-hearted, and unsympathetic. If he returns the watch to the family, on the other hand, he is kind, benevolent, and generous. One can be acting perfectly "within one's rights" while still being subject to reasonable moral criticism; it may be morally desirable for the watch to be returned without its being morally obligatory.

One obvious thing to note about objects of sentimental value (indeed, it's virtually what we mean by the term) is that they are irreplaceable: if someone loses her ordinary old watch, then she'll be just as happy with another; but if she loses her much-loved great grandfather's watch, then she'll be very upset, and no other watch will take its place. Another thing about such objects is that the value we gain from them comes largely from having them with us. It is quite nice for a person to know that her great grandfather's watch still exists—but it doesn't bring the personal value of having it in her possession. Exactly why we gain such value from items of sentimental worth is a question for psychologists. It is enough here to note that we do, and that although there is doubtlessly a vice of being overly-sentimental, or infusing trivial items with sentimental importance, there is nothing obviously unreasonable about this kind of valuing, and arguably much to be said in its favor.

Though the analogy is not perfect, it seems that there is a fruitful comparison to be made between things of personal sentimental value and the items we are calling "cultural treasures". Some objects are a focus of pride for a group or a nation—from them comes a sense of heritage and historical rootedness, which contributes to cultural identity and self-esteem. The Statue of Liberty, the Eiffel Tower, the Pyramids, the Great Wall of China, and so on, are the most obvious examples that come to mind (to say nothing of the biggest). They are objects "charged" with cultural significance. When such things are irretrievably lost, it is rightly perceived as a tragedy. Replacement with a convincing replica just won't suffice; like a great grandfather's watch, their value comes from being that very object. A cultural treasure is not merely an artifact

that has historical, archaeological, ethnographic or artistic significance, however great that significance may be; it is an item that plays a functional role for a certain group of persons. It acts rather like a figurehead (though "figurehead" sounds singular, and a culture may have many treasures).

Some will object that the notion of "cultural treasure" is so hopelessly vague as to be useless. It certainly is imprecise, but it doesn't follow that it is useless. Regardless of vagueness, there are going to be paradigms that are clear instances of cultural treasures. Some obvious and grand ones were just mentioned, but treasures can be considerably less impressive, for it is the role that they play that counts, and within a certain group that function might be filled by items of clothing, pieces of pottery, masks, etc. Additionally, there will be clear foils for the concept: a banana preserved since Tudor times in the mud of the Thames, a pair of trousers owned by Woodrow Wilson. These, though in their own way fascinating, are not cultural treasures. It is no challenge to find something for which one just isn't sure—the wreck of the Mary Rose, perhaps?—but the fact that one could not decide on the Mary Rose, and a thousand other instances, in no way undermines the truth that The Statue of Liberty is (and the banana is not) a cultural treasure.

The argument of this paper, then, is confined to the things that count as cultural treasures. On any reasonable specification, it is worth noting, the Elgin Marbles will count: the Parthenon is Greece's primary national monument, and the marbles are an integral part of that structure. It would not be too strong to say that if the marbles do not count as a Greek cultural treasure, then they have no cultural treasures at all. "Granted," one might object, "that there will be items that are clear cases of cultural treasures—but how are we going to decide on the myriad of uncertain cases?" The best answer is to point out that we do make decisions concerning the cultural importance of things all the time. We grant things the official status of "historic landmark", of "national heritage site", of "area of outstanding beauty", and so on. Sometimes these categories involve rankings, or subcategories (e.g., "area of beauty" vs. "area of outstanding beauty"). Moreover, they often involve a special treatment, such as preservation by law, and therefore a decision is made (if only by default) on every instance within the relevant domain. All such conferrals involve making decisions in a gray area. Sometimes it's not easy, sometimes it involves negotiation and argument—but that's a far cry from saying that such categories are so vague as to be impracticable and useless.

Although the preceding is brief, it satisfies the desire to create a presumption in favor of returning things that clearly count as cultural treasures—such as the Elgin Marbles—to the people who treasure them. The argument has nothing to do with ownership (except in so far as it might bear on the question of who should own the items), and doesn't pretend to deduce any moral obligations to return. Rather, we start with the assumption that the return has prima facie desirability, and from here examine whether there are obstructions to prevent this desirability becoming all-things-considered. It will be argued that one perceived obstacle (the slippery slope)—so often appealed to—carries no weight.

2. Slippery Slopes

Slippery slope arguments are deployed only when there is some admission that the action at the top of the slope, as it were, has some prima facie desirability. They are employed against actions that we are tempted to perform, that seem acceptable on the face of things. It has often been noted that there is not obviously a single slippery slope argument, but various arguments hiding, sometimes entwined, under that vague heading; therefore it is difficult to give an initial generic statement of the objection. Nevertheless, its expression is something we are familiar with: Sir Alexander Cadogan (Permanent Undersecretary of State of Britain), contemplating the return of

the Elgin Marbles in 1941, remarked "I don't know where this is all going to end", while another official in the foreign office had spoken previously of its setting "a dangerous precedent". The vague idea is that returning the marbles will lead to something obviously unacceptable—say, museums throughout the land stripped of everything but local artifacts.

In what follows it will be convenient if we formalize this. Treating A as may seem acceptable, or even desirable, but it will lead inevitably to treating B as , which is clearly unacceptable; therefore treating A as is, all-things-considered, not acceptable or desirable after all. The virtue of treating the argument in such terms is that it will be easier to see how it transfers to other debates. In the euthanasia debates, for example, it is often argued that although it might be seem permissible to refrain from preventing a terminally ill patient from committing suicide in certain extreme circumstances ("It seems acceptable to treat A as "), this would inevitably lead to less desirable actions, such as actively killing a terminally ill patient after receiving permission from his family ("It is unacceptable to treat B as "), and this is used as an argument against the first proposed action ("So it is not all-things-considered acceptable to treat A as "). And the slippery slope is well-known in the abortion debate as well: although it may be permissible, on the face of it, to terminate a pregnancy after one week, this just leads inexorably down through the months until one is accepting third trimester abortions (or even condoning infanticide); and since these latter actions are (the argument goes) clearly unacceptable, so too must be any abortion. However, despite the critique having general scope, it is beyond this paper (and would, besides, prove repetitive) explicitly to show the failings of the argument for these other debates.

This paper will offer four versions of the slippery slope argument presented in general terms, criticize each (often arguing by reductio), and also draw the moral for our test-case treasure, the Elgin Marbles. The argument as it appears in the abortion debate is a good example of the first kind of slippery slope to consider—revolving, it seems, around the question of "Where would one draw the line?" Hence we will call it (just for ease of reference) "the Continuum Argument".

2.1. The Continuum Argument:

You can't draw a principled line between things of type A and things of type B; there's just a continuum of cases between them, and any attempt to draw a border would be arbitrary. Therefore, if you're going to treat A as , you'll have to treat B as , too. Anything else would involve an arbitrary and subjective decision. But since treating B as is clearly undesirable, treating A as —despite initial appearances to the contrary—is also undesirable.

This argument is easily and justly parodied. Suppose a man wants to have his house painted yellow. He leaves the painters to the task, and returns later to find the house painted bright orange. Could the painters reasonably defend their choice by pointing out that yellow and orange merge imperceptibly into each other, challenging the man to draw a non-arbitrary line between the two? Of course not. It is simply absurd to claim that whenever the boundaries between two categories are imprecise, we are committed to treating instances of the two in the same way. Yellow and orange, despite fuzziness, are perfectly serviceable distinct concepts.

If forced, we often can draw boundaries between vague groups. As to the question of whether any such boundary is necessarily "arbitrary and subjective" the answer is "Not in any pernicious way". If one were to put the boundary between yellow and orange right up towards one end of the spectrum, then that is just wrong. It's as wrong as someone drawing a line between cats and dogs that includes small fluffy dogs in the cat category. The correct procedure is to get some sort of consensus on what counts as "the gray area" (or in this case "the yellowy-orange area") and draw a line roughly in the middle. There's a degree of arbitrariness involved. It's much the same

kind of arbitrariness that faces authorities when they have to decide on speed limits on roads—drawing a precise line between "too fast" and "not too fast". Perhaps putting the speed limit anywhere between 45 m.p.h. and 55 m.p.h. would be acceptable, in which case a precise speed of 50 m.p.h. is decided upon. Arbitrary? Somewhat—in the sense that there was a range of acceptable outcomes to the decision (i.e., a speed limit of 52 m.p.h. would not have been "wrong")—but, in so far as the law requires such precision, reasonably so.

This is not to say that we need to draw lines between vague concepts—merely that sometimes circumstances might require us to make a decision one way or the other on every case. Consider a real-life case, already mentioned above: the conferral of the status of "National Heritage Site" on certain buildings. We start out with an indistinct notion that certain buildings are of cultural and historical value and others are clearly not. Nobody thinks that there is a natural crisp boundary between the two: the variables that determine this kind of value are many and nebulous. Then somebody comes along with the admirable idea that a certain status—one that involves legal protection and funding—should be conferred on the valuable buildings. There are going to be a lot of buildings that immediately get that status, being obviously on the right side of the line. But then there's the gray area. A decision has to be made on every building in the gray area—either it gets the funding or it does not—and so certain boundaries will need to be stipulated. Here there won't be a single continuum, but the complex decision might involve deliberations over a variety of continua: being sixteenth-century will count for more than being seventeenth, being visited by a number of tourists greater than n per year will count. And other, equally vague matters will be considered: whether someone famous ever owned it, whether it is particularly beautiful, etc. The point is not to discuss how such decisions may be made, but simply to observe that we frequently do make yes-or-no decisions concerning utterly imprecise matters, and the fact that these decisions are complex and difficult in no way commits us to sliding from treating things up one end of the continuum in a certain way to treating similarly the things at the other end. We don't end up conferring "National Heritage" status on apartment blocks of the 1970s.

The application of these considerations to the case of the Elgin Marbles should be obvious. The argument claimed that it is desirable for the marbles to be returned on the grounds of their status as "a cultural treasure"—a status that is to be distinguished from an item's being culturally significant, or an important historical document, or a work of art. It is has been admitted that this status is thoroughly imprecise, and if we decide to treat cultural treasures in a special way there will be cases lying within the gray area that will naturally be disputed. Perhaps there will be an item like a Japanese emperor's kimono regarding which we're simply unsure whether it has the status of "cultural treasure". But the fact that we may argue about the kimono in no way shows that we should refrain from treating the cases that are clearly cultural treasures in the desirable way, nor is it to say that the difficult cases could not be decided in due course. In any case, we would not be on a slope to returning to their original societies things that are clearly not cultural treasures.

2.2. The Principle Argument:

Although treating A as is prima facie morally desirable, you need to consider the principle justifying this treatment (call this principle "P"). P also justifies treating B as . But since treating B as is clearly undesirable, treating A as —despite initial appearances to the contrary—is all-things-considered undesirable.

It isn't obvious that this should really count as a "slippery slope" argument, but it's sufficiently in the ballpark to warrant examination. Up to a point the argument is perfectly acceptable, and

resembles a form of reasoning that philosophers rely on frequently. Suppose that one were to think that killing animals for food is permissible, and that the principle underlying this appears to be something like "Animals have no moral rights because they are not sufficiently rational". But then we subject this principle to scrutiny by imagining what results it would yield if followed generally. We might be struck by the thought that young children and mentally retarded adults are also "insufficiently rational", and yet the thought of killing them for food is obviously unacceptable, and so we are forced to revise our initial position.

The problem is that "revising our initial position" is ambiguous—the initial position consisted of two things: a judgment that eating animals is permissible, plus a principle justifying that judgment. Showing that that principle would also license actions that are clearly unacceptable casts the principle into doubt; it doesn't undermine the judgment that eating animals is permissible. If the principle in question were the only possible way of justifying meat-eating, then the permissibility of the action would also be discredited, but this is unlikely to be the case.

If we are initially inclined to consider one action acceptable and another unacceptable, then (unless we are simply being irrational) there must be a difference between the two actions that explains this difference in our attitudes. What we must therefore do is try to articulate a principle that accommodates the first action's acceptability and the second action's unacceptability. Therefore if there's some principle P that tells us that we should treat them both as , or neither of them as , we have a reason for rejecting that principle and looking for another, P*, that satisfies the intuitive differentiation. And we know (again, unless our difference in attitude is just irrational bias) that there is a P*, though it may be hard to find and articulate. This is the most important thing to remember about slippery slopes. The very fact that one thing (at the top of the slope) appears acceptable, and another thing (at the bottom of the slope) appears unacceptable suffices to show that there is probably a difference between the two cases to which we are sensitive. Bringing this difference out into the open is what should prevent us sliding down the slope.

Concerning the Elgin Marbles, we might start out thinking that they ought to be returned because artworks should be located in the place of their origin. But then we think this through, and realize that the implementation of this principle would lead to a MOMA with no Picassos, a National Gallery with no Raphaels, etc. The unacceptability of this does not force a revision of our attitude towards the marbles—we merely come to see that we were trying to justify it with a foolish principle. Given that we do think that returning all Picassos to Europe would be absurd, whereas returning the marbles to Athens would be desirable, what we should be doing is searching for the factor that underlies this difference in attitude, and a decision-guiding principle that captures this factor. Progress is made when we realize that it is not their being wonderful artworks, or historical documents, etc., that underlies our attitude towards returning the marbles—but their being of a more distinctive category: "a cultural treasure". We then may exchange our initial reason for a better one: "It is desirable to return them because cultural treasures generally ought to be housed with the culture that treasures them." This principle no longer justifies the return of all those Picassos, Raphaels, etc., because although such artworks are obviously in one sense of the word "treasures", they do not play the symbolic role of being a focal point of national identity that the term is intended to indicate. (Perhaps there are some exceptions, such as Guernica.)

But imagine that we do come up with an explanation of our differentiating attitude, but it turns out to be an unacceptably unprincipled one. Perhaps we want to return the marbles but not, say, a tribal mask from New Guinea, simply because we "like" Greece more than we do New Guinea—we read all their ancient playwrights, we study their philosophy, we relate to them more, we take

holidays there. In other words, we uncover not a principle but a bias (at worst, simple racism). The first thing to note is that to uncover a bias for, say, Greece over New Guinea would no more show that we were mistaken in finding desirable the return Greece's cultural treasures than it would show that we were mistaken in finding undesirable the return of New Guinea's cultural treasures. Discovering that a difference in attitude towards A and B is unprincipled bias, and attempting to formulate a policy of action that does not reflect that bias, could go either way: it might show that we ought to treat neither A nor B as , or it might show that we should treat them both as . What would adjudicate which way to go? Answer: the principles that underlie our unbiased attitudes. We have already seen an unbiased moral principle that justifies the return of cultural treasures (not showing their return to be obligatory, but at the very least desirable). If we find that there are items that count as cultural treasures that we don't want to return—say, the New Guinean mask—but we cannot find any grounds for distinguishing between the two cases, then the only conclusion to draw is that our resistance to returning the masks stems from an unprincipled (and therefore unjustifiable) emotive response.

2.3. The Collective Wrong Argument:

Although treating A as is prima facie morally desirable, you need to consider the principle justifying this treatment (call this principle "P"). P will also justify treating B as , C as , etc. Although any one of these actions, considered alone, seems unobjectionable, all these actions, considered collectively, would clearly be a terrible thing. Therefore treating A as —despite initial appearances to the contrary—is all-things-considered undesirable.

On the face of it, this is an odd argument. How could a number of actions—each morally correct by itself—add up to a morally undesirable state of affairs? If we interpret "correct" as a strong moral prescription, like obligation, then the answer is probably that they cannot. If action is morally obligatory, and so is , and , etc., then the conjunction of those actions is also morally obligatory. And if the conjunction of those obligatory actions seems intuitively unacceptable, but we are confident of each conjunct taken alone, then so much the worse for our former intuition.

However, if we interpret "correct" as something weaker, like moral desirability, then the Collective Wrong Argument gets a little further. It may be morally desirable for a particular person to give some money to the charity Save the Children. It is also, let's say, equally morally desirable for her to give some money to Greenpeace, and to Amnesty International, and to Save the Manatee, and to all those other charities. But it is not morally desirable that she gives money to all of them, for then she would be bankrupt, her family would suffer, etc. It is precisely because of this consequence that we generally resist claiming that it is morally obligatory for people to give money to any particular charity (though we may hold that it is obligatory for people to give some money to some charity or other). And so it is possible that some action might be morally desirable, and some action equally so (and , etc.), but the conjunction of these actions would be morally undesirable—it may even be morally prohibited.

The obvious thing to recognize is that from these observations the conclusion of the Collective Wrong Argument doesn't follow at all. From the fact that giving to every charity would be morally undesirable (perhaps even prohibited), the silliest thing to conclude would be that one shouldn't give to any charity. That would be like thinking that one shouldn't give birthday presents to anyone on the grounds that one cannot give birthday presents to everyone. So if we accept (for the sake of argument) that it would be quite unacceptable for the museums to be drastically depleted, and that there are a sufficient number of items in the museums—each of which it is morally desirable to return—such that if all such items were returned the museum would be drastically depleted—it by no means follows that none of these items should be

returned. Rather, the appropriate way to proceed would be to assess carefully which of the potential actions would be most morally desirable. In much the same way one distributes a limited amount of money among charities, all of which seem to a greater or lesser degree deserving: one gives it to the most deserving first.

The following question naturally arises. Suppose one returns the item for which there is the most compelling moral case, and then the item for which there is the second most compelling case, etc.—at what point does one stop? Aren't we on a slippery slope to an unacceptable state of affairs: barren museums? As usual, there is more rhetoric than genuine gradient to this slope. It is useful again to compare the case of giving to charity (not that returning cultural treasures falls into the category of charitable actions). The fact that it is highly desirable for someone to give some of her money to charity—let's say, 10%—in no way raises the possibility of her giving away all her money. But where to draw the line? Why 10% as opposed to 15%? And if 15%, why not 20%? It is true that it is a difficult decision to make, and perhaps it is too much to expect strict percentages. Still, in so far as one is able to judge that giving some money to charity would be good, but giving all one's money to charity would be a disaster, then one should be able to formulate some sort of policy for approximately how much to give. And even if one is not entirely confident that one has gotten it right, one might at least be certain that 10%, as a rule of thumb, is closer to "the right amount" than zero. Exactly the same thing goes regarding the return of items in museums: if one has a conception of how much depletion would count as "unacceptable", then one can afford to return treasures until one approaches that mark. The fact that a certain vagueness and complexity surrounds the assessment should no more hinder this decision than it should paralyze a person when deciding how much to spend on his mother-in-law's birthday present. Taking various factors into account, he might decide that $50 is about right. Of course, it's absurd to think that $50 is "just right" and a penny more would be unacceptable: if he sees something nice for $55 or $60, then maybe he'll stretch that far. But the fact that there's no exact line to be drawn hardly proves that he's on a well-oiled slope to spending thousands of dollars on her birthday present.

It should be stressed that to some degree the above discussion is incidental regarding the return of cultural treasures. This category of items is defined in such a way that in all probability in any given museum there are not a great number of objects satisfying the criteria. If we consider the British Museum, which is presumably an extreme case, the idea that the removal of its cultural treasures—the items that are of paramount significance to a living group—would in any serious way deplete the museum, is untrue. (It might be noted that the museum has so much material in its collection that much is in storage, never seen by the public.) And even if it were true that their removal would result in unacceptable depletion, that is no justification at all, this paper has argued, for refraining from returning those items for which there is the most pressing case, and merely ensuring that in this process one stops well short of approaching "unacceptable" limits.

2.4. The Hardened Heart Argument:

Although treating A as is prima facie morally desirable, doing so will alter our attitudes towards treating things as —pretty soon we'll come to think of treating B as as acceptable too; and if we decide to treat B as we will soon "harden our hearts" further, and we'll begin to think that treating C as is acceptable too (etc.). But treating C as is clearly unacceptable. Therefore treating A as —despite initial appearances to the contrary—is all-things-considered undesirable.

This and the Continuum Argument are, it seems, the most frequently employed slippery slopes, but this argument is no more compelling than the earlier one. The argument involves a projected chronology:

Time 1(us now) Returning A seems acceptable, but returning B or C seems unacceptable...Time 2... so we return A (but keep B and C).This brings about a change of attitude: Time 3 Now returning B seems acceptable, but returning C still seems unacceptable...Time 4... so we return B (but keep C).This brings about a change of attitude: Time 5 Now returning C seems acceptable...Time 6... so we return C.Result: Empty museums!

Here "A" might denote the Elgin Marbles, "B" a rather nice Mexican statuette, and "C" some pieces of unexceptional Egyptian pottery. (Three steps have been chosen for clarity, but obviously that's just for illustrative purposes.)

The argument seems to trade on a rather pessimistic view of human weakness: that we can somehow talk ourselves into judging as acceptable things that we now think of as morally unacceptable. Why, exactly, we would grow so feeble as to lose all capacity to distinguish the acceptable cases from the unacceptable, is far from obvious. After all, at time 1 we have a difference in attitude between treating A as and treating C as , and something must account for that differentiation. Unless we are being simply indefensibly biased at time 1, there must be some difference between A and C to which we are sensitive. The important question is why—as we proceed from time 1 through to time 2 and onwards—would that sensitivity be eroded? After we move past time 2 we will be treating A and C in a different manner—and surely that, if anything, is likely to reinforce a sensitivity to the difference between them. Treating them both the same, on the other hand—either treating them both as (as at time 1) or treating neither of them as (as at time 6)—is likely to dim our awareness of the difference between them.

Furthermore, with a view of human attitudes being so malleable in the face of precedent, the argument undermines itself. It accepts that we could get ourselves into a "hardened heart" situation (at time 5) where we judge that treating A, B and C as are all acceptable, even though we are quite wrong, but we are seemingly unable to recognize this fact (at time 5), having unwittingly corrupted ourselves. But if that could be true of time 5, how do we know it's not also true of our starting attitudes, at time 1? Perhaps the attitude we have at time 1, wherein treating C as is seen as unacceptable, is itself a product of having been influenced by earlier precedents, but we are unable now to see this. Somehow, we are supposed to be able to "tell" that the attitudes we have at time 1 are the correct ones, though the argument depends on the possibility of that we might get ourselves into a situation wherein we have the wrong set of attitudes but are oblivious of the fact. This is a troubling contradiction.

Two criticisms have been made of this argument. First and more importantly, why would our attitude change? If our initial differentiating attitude was based on some principle—some defensible difference between the marbles and (say) the unexceptional Egyptian pottery, such as the former but not the latter being a cultural treasure—then there's no reason at all to think that at any later date we'd "forget" about that principle. If someone were later to ask "Well, you returned those marbles, why not now return that pottery?" we'd have an answer to give: "Because the marbles play a crucial role in some culture's sense of national identity while the pottery does not". And if there were no such difference in principle that could be offered, then the attitudes that initially distinguished between the cases would be thrown into doubt (see discussion of the Principle Argument).

Second, suppose we were so malleable as to change our attitude towards the pottery at some time after returning the marbles—why would that be such a bad thing? The fact that now we see it as a bad thing (we're supposing) is no more significant than the fact that in that projected future (at time 5) we'd look back on how we had once been inclined to keep both the marbles and the pottery and think that that was a bad thing. It is not a defensible practice to privilege the attitudes we have now for no other reason than they are the ones we have now. It is no more acceptable than it is for me to privilege the moral attitudes of my culture for no other reason than their being the attitudes of my culture. Justifying a moral decision with "These are my attitudes that I have now" is no justification at all; to make a valuable moral decision involves looking beyond such contingencies, and examining the general principles that underlie one's attitudes. If we can't find such a justification, then our attitude is unjustified, and we certainly shouldn't be basing moral decisions upon it. But if we can find such a principle, then this makes a nonsense of the claim upon which the Hardened Heart Argument depends: that we might set off down a slope upon which we become increasingly unable to distinguish right from wrong, until finally at the bottom, with hearts having been hardened by our journey, we are willing to countenance all manner of callous and foolhardy actions.

3. Conclusion

Not only is the slippery slope argument a fallacious way of arguing, it is self-undermining. To base one's reasoning upon it is to admit that a certain action has prima facie desirability, and that another action, or set of actions, is undesirable. But to admit this is to acknowledge that there must be some difference between the two cases, accounting for these opposed attitudes. This, in turn, implies that there is a difference to be brought into the light and written into the decision-procedure, thus preventing one sliding. If, on the other hand, one denies that the first action is even prima facie desirable, then an appeal to the fear of slippery slopes is entirely superfluous, and one should instead be able to establish the undesirability of the proposed action on its own merits and without reference to the undesirability of other possible actions.

Disqualifying the slippery slope argument against some proposed action is not, of course, to show that action to be perfectly permissible; it is merely to turn aside one obstacle that might stand in the way of the prima facie desirability translating into an all-things-considered desirability. But it is noteworthy that considerations of "precedent" loom so large in all debates over the return of cultural treasures, the case of the Elgin Marbles being no exception. Such fears are based on fallacious reasoning and should be put aside, allowing us to judge the moral arguments in favor of and against returning each cultural treasure on a case-by-case basis. Issues of who legally owns the item in question will, naturally, be of great importance in any such debate. But, as was stressed at the outset, the moral argument does not end there. If you find in your possession an item of immense sentimental value to another person, and of comparably lesser value to you, then your refusal even to consider returning the item, or to openly discuss the possibility, certainly would reveal a serious moral flaw. How morally desirable (or otherwise) it is for you to return the item depends on the particulars of the matter. But it is certainly possible that even if you are judged "within your rights" to keep it, you might still be accused legitimately of a range of moral vices: of being mean, miserly, and heartless. The debate over who owns the Elgin Marbles is a worthwhile matter to pursue, but anyone who thinks that the question of ownership exhausts the ethical question is guilty of impoverished moral thinking: a peculiar modern impoverishment that recognizes only one type of ethical crime—the violation of a right—and forgets that one can morally err in many ways.

THE ADVANTAGES OF REUNITING THE LONDON AND ATHENS MARBLES

By Professor A.M. Snodgrass, Cambridge University

(This article was published as Appendix B in the British Committee's submission to the House of Commons Select Committee).

This argument is less often used than it might be because all parties have come to think of the Parthenon marbles as detached works of art, whose possession is at issue -- in the same way as if they were statues. In fact, every one of the sculptures was, to a greater or lesser degree, built into the monument. In the majority of cases - those of the ninety-two metopes and 111 slabs of the frieze - the marbles played a measurable part in actually holding up the ceilings and roof of the Parthenon. Only the thirty-seven pedimental figures in some degree resembled freestanding sculpture, and even they were firmly attached to the building.

Furthermore, this building, as any visitor to Athens can witness, is even today in a fair state of preservation. Until the explosion in the Turco-Venetian war of 1687, the Parthenon was, as well as being the finest, also the best preserved of all Greek temples. After this and other episodes of destruction, some 160 years of tireless and fairly continuous work by the Greek authorities, beginning in the 1830s, have achieved a substantial restoration of the beauty that the architecture of the Parthenon once possessed and that, even without most of its sculptural decoration, it again displays to a high degree.

Greek architecture has had a role fully comparable with that of Greek sculpture in the depth of its influence on modern design. Indeed, inasmuch as public architecture is automatically visible and, at least externally, accessible to the population as a whole, this influence could be regarded as the greater of the two: beginning from a later date, and undergoing many transformations, it is detectable to this day in a sense that is hardly any longer true of sculpture.

Lord Elgin's attitude to the architecture was, even by the lights of his time, exceptionally vandalistic. Half-a-century before him, his British predecessors, Stuart and Revett, had seen Greek architecture as something to be minutely studied and lovingly cherished. Yet Elgin was prepared to sacrifice architectural components, with no apparent hesitation, to sculptural ones. The detachment of the frieze-blocks and, especially of the metopes, was impossible without at least the temporary removal of the cornices and other architectural members, in many cases elaborately carved, which overlay them. Elgin's agents, from late in 1801, resorted to the widespread use of saws (with which Elgin himself had supplied them), mainly it seems to reduce the weight of the sculptured blocks, but also to ease the access to them. By good fortune, drawings of the south-east corner of the building survive from 1801 and from 1810: these express, better than any words, the magnitude of the damage done to this part of the Parthenon in Elgin's time, mainly in the cause of acquiring the last seven metopes on the south side.

Two of the implications of this destruction may be singled out for mention here. First, as is well known, even Lord Elgin was not able to carry through the removal of the sculptures in their entirety. Forty of the metopes on the northern, eastern, and western sides (those most exposed to the wind) were already so weathered by his time that they were not thought worth the trouble of removing. Much more notably, the frieze at the relatively well-preserved western end was too

difficult of access to be removable with the means at his disposal. The removal of the architectural setting of these pieces, while they remained on the building, greatly increased their exposure to the elements over the next two centuries - a fact entirely ignored in the familiar retaliatory arguments, used by the British Museum and its allies, to decry the fate of the sculptures in Greek hands.

The second implication has a wider significance, and can best be expressed in the form of a rhetorical question: what other possessions, of the British Museum or any other major collection, were torn from a living building which, after more than twenty-four centuries, is still partially standing today? The answer is, of course, very few. Their number falls even lower when one introduces the factor of the place of that building in the consciousness of the modern nation-state. This surely offers the key to a solution of the problem that, perhaps more than any other, exercises governmental and museum authorities: what may be called the fear of 'opening the floodgates'. No decision about the Parthenon marbles need have implications for more than a tiny range of museum acquisitions which have the same history of having been 'bought' at the price of architectural destruction.

No one now proposes that the sculptures can be restored to their place on the building, as the Greeks illustrated by their recent removal of the West Frieze to the Acropolis Museum for better preservation. In the ethical issue of the treatment of architecture, no direct restitution is now possible except in the minimal case. of the few architectural pieces that Elgin also abstracted: but this issue has an immediate bearing, seldom acknowledged, on the parallel ethical case of the sculptures.

Athens and London, between them, now possess more than 98 per cent of what survives of the Parthenon sculptures, in two roughly equal halves. It is true that other European countries are marginally involved in the ownership of those components of the building that are outside Greece: but among these pieces, the British Museum possesses fifty-five of the fifty-six frieze slabs, all twenty of, the pediment figures, 'and. fifteen of the sixteen metopes: again, nearly 98 per cent in total.

To re-unite the London and Athens marbles would thus achieve a multiple effect, First, it is the study of its original conception that has always been the main scholarly approach, for art historians and archaeologists alike. For this approach, factors such as the differential preservation of the sculptures are an irrelevance, and their differing

locations a major obstacle. If the aim is to investigate the meaning attached to the original design as a whole, it would be a huge gain to have virtually all the surviving material in one location. Secondly, there is the unity of the architecture and sculpture which we have been stressing. To have the marbles located in sight of the building to which they belong would be to give them back that which they have lacked for the past two centuries: a sense of their true purpose, which the ordinary viewer could instantly appreciate, instead of having to fall back on the two-dimensional reconstructions of scholars. The issue is a bigger one than that of scholarship, and at the same time more lasting than that of politics: it is one that lies at the heart of culture itself.