After Lain Singh Bangdel returned to his ancestral land in 1961, he quickly noticed the many empty pedestals and shrines around the Kathmandu Valley—the results of decades of looting and theft of Nepal’s cultural heritage. In the following decades, Bangdel became one of the most prominent preservationists and heritage activists in Nepal, next to his illustrious career as an artist and art historian. In the foreword to his pivotal book Stolen Images of Nepal, Bangdel explains the following:
As interest was growing in the art of Nepal, art objects of Kathmandu Valley began to disappear fast. From the late sixties, stone sculptures of great archaeological value were missing. At night, valuable images were stolen from temples, shrines, chaityas, stupas or niches where the image has been kept for centuries. In some cases, priceless images were mutilated or disfigured in attempts to remove them [Reference Bangdel1989:14].
The persistent nature of the problem was further highlighted by Schick’s (Reference Schick1998) publication, which provides additional records of stolen and looted cultural objects from the Kathmandu Valley, emphasizing the egregious scale of damage that the ongoing demand for Nepal’s cultural heritage has inflicted in both past and present. The market for these objects was already well known: as heritage activist and writer Kanak Mani Dixit (cited in Schick Reference Schick1998:67) stated, “A Nepalese who wants to perform his daily worship in front of the sacred images will have to make a pilgrimage to America in order to find them there in some museum.”
Although museum displays are increasingly evolving in an effort to “decolonize,” the knowledge production processes that underpin museums are much slower to shift. Historically, museums were given power, privilege, and authority because of their educational function in society, as an institution of the state. Yet they long produced and reproduced systems of bias, exploitation, oppression, and violence. As Tawadros (Reference Tawadros1990:30–31) notes, “The notion of western culture as inherently progressive, sophisticated and, above all, superior . . . remains firmly embedded in the cultural institutions of western Europe, not least in its museums.” In this way, “Museums have become dangerous places because they control the storytelling” (Jackson quoted in Cairns Reference Cairns2018). Recently, however, the need to redefine the museum’s social role and its potential to fulfill a social justice agenda has grown with the negotiations surrounding access to, agency over, and ownership of cultural objects. The push for repatriation and representation has placed everything about the museum into question, including the knowledge production processes it is based on (see Hooper-Greenhill Reference Hooper-Greenhill1992; Lewis Reference Lewis2024; Sleeper-Smith Reference Sleeper-Smith2009).
Drawing from a substantial body of self-scrutinizing anthropological literature that explores the interconnectedness of ethics, knowledge production, and positionality, museum anthropology and museum studies have generated substantial work on the complex social, political, and power relationships and politics of exchange that underlie scholarly research of collections, cultures, and objects (see, e.g., Hodge and Kreps Reference Hodge and Kreps2024). This has led to extensive efforts to reconceptualize the museum space, enabling it to actively engage with social processes and generate knowledge with and for diverse stakeholders. Recent years have also seen a significant increase in the application of decolonial and intersectional approaches within foundational fields such as archaeology and art history (see, e.g., Atalay Reference Atalay2006, Reference Atalay2012; Bruchac et al. Reference Margaret, Siobhan and Wobst2010; Carey Reference Carey2019; Flewellen et al. Reference Flewellen, Dunnavant, Odewale, Jones, Wolde-Michael, Crossland and Franklin2021; Odewale et al. Reference Odewale, Dunnavant, Flewellen and Jones2018). These efforts have gained traction as scholars seek to challenge the dominance of colonial, Eurocentric ideologies and to incorporate marginalized voices, histories, and knowledge systems. This shift has led to more inclusive and culturally sensitive practices in archaeological research and interpretation.
Our ethical principles and values that guide our moral decision-making are certainly not universal constants; rather, they are products of particular societal norms, philosophical traditions, and lived experiences that are deeply rooted in a given era and geographical location. Structural remedies to social injustice and epistemic exclusion therefore need to go hand in hand with individual efforts to evaluate behaviors, habits, perspectives, and values (Anderson Reference Anderson2012). This also means that decisions made by both individuals and institutions must regularly be (re)evaluated to be in keeping with ethical standards of the time and to the relevant culture(s)—in this case, deconstructing museums, universities, and other spaces of knowledge, as well as the people contributing to these spaces.
Building on the work of Neil Brodie (Reference Brodie and Deborah2008, Reference Brodie, Green and Mackenzie2009, Reference Brodie2011a, Reference Brodie, Manacorda and Chappell2011b, Reference Brodie, Almqvist and Belfrage2016, Reference Brodie2019, Reference Brodie, Oosterman and Yates2021), this article focuses on the potential criminogenic and harmful consequences of scholarly knowledge production as related to cultural objects. Although scholars are rarely involved directly in the illicit trade of cultural objects, this article outlines how some of them benefit from its existence and may actively or passively facilitate illicit trade. The article focuses on Emma Bunker and Mary Slusser, two scholars whose unethical and sometimes illegal actions have demonstrably impacted the composition and character of Asian art collections and exhibitions across the United States. Within this context, I extend the term “scholar” to anyone who generates and disseminates knowledge around cultural objects, which includes archaeologists, art historians, conservators, educators, museum curators, restorers, and others; in other words, extending it to those who have intellectual authority and control in relation to cultural objects (see Longair Reference Longair2015).
The following paragraphs first outline how scholars can be interlinked with the illicit trade in cultural objects and the harmful and criminogenic consequences of this mutually beneficial relationship. I then use the examples of Emma Bunker and Mary Slusser to examine the role that some scholars have played in facilitating the creation of taste and market demand for Asian cultural objects in the United States. Their purported “expertise” has—whether deliberately or inadvertently—resulted in the marginalization of alternative perspectives, knowledge, and practices. But scholars of the past should not be made saints in the present. I conclude that those with intellectual authority and control engaging with cultural objects should address the exploitative and colonial foundations of the knowledge they build on and actively avoid reproducing the criminogenic and harmful consequences of previous scholarship. The article ends with some recommendations on how to implement such practices.
Providing a Veneer of Legitimacy: Scholarly Facilitation of Illicit Trade of Cultural Objects
Most scholars involved in the study of and decision-making around cultural objects are law-abiding, ethical individuals who are dedicated to researching, preserving, and protecting cultural heritage to the best of their abilities. They are guided by disciplinary ethical frameworks as well as by personal values and commitments, which may evolve and shift over time. However, in recent years, some scholars have emerged as key nodes in the global network of illicit trade in cultural objects. Assessing their scholarship is important because of the continued weight that the expertise of these scholars carries in today’s teachings and practices surrounding cultural objects.
In 2011, renowned New York–based art dealer Subhash Kapoor was arrested in Germany on allegations of trafficking Indian cultural objects. He was extradited to India in 2012, where he faced charges related to the theft and smuggling of cultural objects (Selvaraj Reference Selvaraj2012). In 2022, Kapoor was convicted for receiving and dealing in stolen property and sentenced to a 10-year prison sentence and fine. However, Kapoor remains in custody in Tamil Nadu to date due to an extradition hold related to the civil forfeiture action that the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office brought against Kapoor in 2015 and the subsequent extradition request they filed in 2020 (Moynihan and Mashberg Reference Moynihan and Mashberg2022). Since his arrest, hundreds of objects in prominent collections such as the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Peabody Essex Museum, Honolulu Museum of Art, and Yale University Art Museum have been linked to Kapoor, with many investigations and repatriation claims still ongoing, although some objects have now been returned (Gay Reference Gay2015; Goldstein Reference Goldstein2022; Nath Reference Nath2023; Solomon Reference Solomon2022).
Interestingly, two restorers—New York–based Richard Salmon and London-based Neil Perry Smith—were also included in the Kapoor indictment for criminal theft, possession, and restoration of stolen cultural objects (Felony Arrest Warrant People of New York v. sokan, CR-022431-19NY; NY Crim.Ct. July 8, 2019). Manhattan district attorney Cyrus Vance Jr. stated that “the arraignment of Neil Perry Smith serves as a reminder that behind every antiquities trafficking ring preying upon cultural heritage for profit, there is someone reassembling and restoring these looted pieces to lend the criminal enterprise a veneer of legitimacy” (Pryor Reference Pryor2021). In other words, the networks that ensure that market demand for cultural objects is met and sustained rely on a wide range of individual and institutional stakeholders, many of whom occupy specialized roles within the market (Mackenzie and Yates Reference Mackenzie, Yates, Beckert and Dewey2017).
Some of the items that Kapoor smuggled into the United States were subsequently traded by Nancy Wiener, a prominent dealer of Asian art with an art gallery in Manhattan, New York. In 2016, Wiener was charged with criminal possession of stolen property (People of New York v. Nancy Wiener, No. SCI-05191-2016; NY Crim. Ct. filed Dec. 21, 2016). Wiener pleaded guilty to the charges, assisting the Manhattan district attorney’s investigation by providing documents and accounts as part of a plea deal. She confessed to being aware of the illegal origins of certain objects and subsequently providing them with false provenances, including inventing previous owners and fabricating paper trails, to facilitate their sale (Mashberg Reference Mashberg2021). During her sentencing in Manhattan’s Supreme Court, Wiener stated that “for decades I conducted business in a market where buying and selling antiquities with vague or even no provenance was the norm. Obfuscation and silence were accepted responses to questions concerning the source from which an object had been obtained. In short, it was a conspiracy of the willing” (People of New York v. Nancy Wiener, No. SCI-05191-2016; NY Crim. Ct. filed Dec. 21, 2016:16). Her statement confirms that although cultural objects are often legally protected in their countries of origin, the market easily sidesteps questions of legality and ethics by operating on the basis of opacity and a “don’t ask, don’t tell” premise, further facilitated by a wide network of those with a vested interest in this commercial enterprise.
The art market serves as a fertile ground for various illicit activities, particularly white-collar crimes such as forgery, money laundering, and tax fraud (Brodie Reference Brodie, Chappell and Hufnagel2014; Chappell and Polk Reference Chappell and Polk2009; Yates Reference Yates2015). In recent years, the activities of stakeholders at the market end of illicit trade in cultural objects—such as auction houses, museums, dealers, collectors—have been likened to those of (other) white-collar offenders (Brodie Reference Brodie, Chappell and Hufnagel2014; Mackenzie et al. Reference Mackenzie, Brodie, Yates and Tsirogiannis2019). There are many similarities: for example, both activities require specialist occupational knowledge and access to specific environments, both exploit the credibility of established institutions and industries, and both are motivated by professional advancement and economic gain. Moreover, there are significant challenges to addressing both practices effectively, and holding those responsible accountable is very difficult, particularly because actors operate in so called security bubbles, which rely on trust and secrecy (Oosterman et al. Reference Oosterman, Mackenzie and Yates2021).
Beyond the activities of market stakeholders that actively buy and sell looted and stolen cultural objects, there are some legitimate professionals that facilitate such illicit trade by providing cultural objects with the aforementioned veneer of legitimacy. Elia (Reference Elia1993) already called attention to the “seductive and troubling work” of scholars collaborating with collectors, because their scholarship might validate the market for cultural objects. Neil Brodie (e.g., Reference Brodie and Deborah2008, Reference Brodie, Green and Mackenzie2009, Reference Brodie2011a, Reference Brodie, Manacorda and Chappell2011b, Reference Brodie, Almqvist and Belfrage2016, Reference Brodie2019, Reference Brodie, Oosterman and Yates2021) has further paved the way for scholarship that draws attention to the ways in which restorers, authenticators, museum curators, conservators, and scholars can facilitate or benefit from illicit trade in cultural objects.
In his work, Brodie (Reference Brodie, Green and Mackenzie2009) argues for a critical reflection of the broader social context of academic research, and the commercial and criminal impact that such work may have. He outlines the “causative link between academic practice” and the market (Brodie Reference Brodie and Deborah2008:6). On the one hand, scholars identify, translate, categorize, label, contextualize, and further study cultural objects, and this information provides structure to the market in terms of the perimeters by which to judge quality, scarcity, and—ultimately—price. On the other hand, scholars are socially recognized as “experts,” allowing them to judge the identity and authenticity of cultural objects authoritatively, even when their ownership history is obfuscated (more on this below). This provides an academic pedigree to objects currently or previously on the market, which makes it easier to sell (and study) them in the future (Brodie Reference Brodie and Deborah2008:6). In effect, their scholarship launders the cultural object in question. Brodie (Reference Brodie, Green and Mackenzie2009, Reference Brodie2011a, Reference Brodie2019, Reference Brodie, Oosterman and Yates2021, Reference Brodie2023) provides numerous case studies to exemplify how such scholarly facilitation of illicit trade works in practice and how this compromises the study of manuscripts, cuneiform tablets, incantation bowls, and other antiquities in Iraq, Afghanistan, and beyond.
As a result of increasing attention to the role scholars play in illicit trade networks of cultural objects, efforts were initiated to limit such involvement. These include the establishment of codes of conduct for archaeologists (see, e.g., Wylie Reference Wylie1999) and the creation of journal guidelines for publication of unprovenanced cultural objects (including this journal)—such as cuneiform archives—or sacred and sensitive objects (Brodie Reference Brodie, Green and Mackenzie2009, Reference Brodie, Oosterman and Yates2021; Brodie and Kersel Reference Neil, Kersel, Matthew and Morag2014; Gerstenblith Reference Gerstenblith, Rutz and Kersel2014; Kersel Reference Kersel2023), although with limited effect (Brodie Reference Brodie, Oosterman and Yates2021). Some scholars oppose such restrictions, stating that the value of publishing unprovenanced antiquities or sacred and sensitive objects outweighs legal or moral concerns and that publication restrictions equal knowledge censorship (see, for example, Boardman Reference Boardman and Cuno2009; Owen Reference Owen and Cuno2009; Steponaitis Reference Steponaitis2023; Westenholz Reference Westenholz, Kleinerman and Sasson2010). Crucially, such arguments consider the pursuit of knowledge (by Western scholars) a self-evident “public good” requiring no further justification (Brodie Reference Brodie2011a:412). But scholarship or knowledge production is inherently nonobjective and nonneutral (Serunkuma Reference Serunkuma2024).
I call these (outdated) perspectives “Indiana Jones syndrome”—legal and ethical concerns, as well as Indigenous voices and narratives, are easily ignored in aid of personal publication, collection, and preservation preferences (see also Killgrove Reference Killgrove2021). Like Indiana Jones, some scholars prioritize the objectification of cultural objects, emphasizing their acquisition, display, and education over their contextual, cultural significance. Such an approach prioritizes the physical object over its cultural meaning, justifies its removal as serving educational purposes, and assumes that Western institutions are better suited to preserve and present these objects. Consequently, this perspective perpetuates a colonial mindset in academic and museum practices, reinforcing power imbalances in knowledge production and cultural representation.
A similar critical examination is currently underway regarding the study, acquisition, and conservation of natural resources, focusing on the colonial and exploitative foundations of this field. For example, Myanmar amber with fossil inclusions, originating from mines in conflict zones that use forced labor, is illegal to export, yet these origins are rarely acknowledged (Dunne et al. Reference Dunne, Raja, Stewens, Thein and Zaw2022; Gammon Reference Gammon2019; Ortega Reference Ortega2022; Sokol Reference Sokol2019). As a result, some journals and scientific societies have now developed best-practice policies for the publication and repatriation of fossils (de Araújo-Júnior et al. Reference de Araújo-Júnior, Ghilardi, Ribeiro, Ribeiro, de Souza Barbosa, Ricardo Negri and Marcelo Scheffler2024; Dunne et al. Reference Dunne, Raja, Stewens, Thein and Zaw2022). These are encouraging signs that scholarship is becoming more reflexive. However, Raja et alia (Reference Raja, Dunne, Matiwane, Ming Khan, Nätscher, Ghilardi and Chattopadhyay2022) found that extractive research practices, including scientific colonialism and parachute science, remain in paleontology: researchers in high- or upper-middle-income countries (primarily northern America and western Europe) hold a monopoly over paleontological knowledge production by contributing to 97% of fossil data, leading to sampling and perspective biases. In addition, most scholars do not consider the ethical implications of studying materials that were taken illegally or unethically (Raja et al. Reference Raja, Dunne, Matiwane, Ming Khan, Nätscher, Ghilardi and Chattopadhyay2022). We can imagine that these results can extend to many categories of scholarly interaction with cultural objects as well. Ethical policies are all self-policing, with no real enforcement mechanisms, and they seem restricted to certain disciplines and materials. In effect, the ways in which we can hold harmful scholarship accountable are therefore extremely limited.
Scholarship (in)advertently legitimizes the (illicit) trade in cultural objects while providing the scholar in question with professional gains and career advancement (Smith and Thompson Reference Emiline and Thompson2023; Yates and Smith Reference Yates, Smith and Stevenson2022). In return, their expert status continues to provide scholars with further access to resources and the platforms necessary to expedite their research and career opportunities, building on and perpetuating the harms and crimes that market demand for cultural objects causes. The following case studies intend to initiate a discussion on the knowledge production processes that surround cultural objects originating from Nepal and Cambodia.
Scholarly Facilitation of Illicit Trade: The Cases of Emma Bunker and Mary Slusser
For centuries, Asian countries have suffered tremendous losses due to (colonial) looting and exploitation of their cultural heritage. This includes removal of cultural objects for the purposes of Western scholarship (Chao Reference Chao, Foster, Chao and Valmisa2024). As a result, many looted cultural objects have ended up in North American and European private and public collections (Hopkirk Reference Hopkirk2006; Kadetsky Reference Kadetsky2023; Meyer and Brysac Reference Meyer and Blair Brysac2015; Tythacott and Ardiyansyah Reference Tythacott and Ardiyansyah2021). Many Asian nations are now gaining momentum in reclaiming their illicitly taken cultural heritage, thereby forcing North American and European private and public collectors to address the problematic narratives and practices that surround their collections. Nepal, India, and Cambodia have arguably taken the lead in this, having been highly successful in bringing back looted cultural heritage (see, e.g., Ramadurai Reference Ramadurai2023; Small Reference Small2021; Socheat et al. Reference Socheat, Chanraksmey, Tythacott, Tythacott and Ardiyansyah2021).
A close examination of any of the most prominent museum collections of Himalayan art in the United States—such as the Rubin Museum of Art in New York, the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, and the Los Angeles County Museum of Art—will reveal some recurring characters in provenance and publication attributions. The frequent mentioning of these scholars, who were involved in the purchase, authentication, and publication of cultural objects, signifies the significant contribution they made to the American market for Himalayan cultural objects. For example, the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts currently owns more than 200 objects that were gifted or bequeathed by the estate of Mary Slusser, renowned art historian of Nepali art (Virginia Museum of Fine Arts 2024). And until recently, the name of Khmer-art scholar Emma Bunker was prominently displayed on the walls of the Denver Art Museum (Tabachnik Reference Tabachnik2023). As will be outlined below, Emma Bunker and Mary Slusser both exemplify the intimate and problematic connections that can exist between scholars and the illicit trade in cultural objects.
Emma Bunker
In a 2021 obituary published by The Denver Post, Emma C. Bunker was hailed as “a world-renowned research scholar, archaeologist, professor and author of Asian Art History, specializing in Eurasia, China and Cambodia” (Legacy 2021). Throughout her career, Bunker published widely on private and museum collections of Asian cultural objects (e.g., Bunker Reference Bunker1971/1972, Reference Bunker1993, Reference Bunker1997, Reference Bunker2002; Bunker and Brosseder Reference Bunker and Brosseder2022; So and Bunker Reference Jenny and Bunker1995). She was a visiting scholar at the Chinese University in Hong Kong (Chinese University of Hong Kong 2023). In addition, she spent 60 years as a board member and consultant for the Denver Art Museum (Tabachnik Reference Tabachnik2022a). However, it is now known that she used her connections with notorious collectors and dealers to expand the museum’s Asian art collection while building her reputation as an expert in the process (Tabachnik Reference Tabachnik2022a, Reference Tabachnik2022b).
One of Bunker’s closest friends was Douglas Latchford, a renowned dealer who was charged with trafficking looted Cambodian artifacts and depositing the profits in hidden offshore accounts before his death in 2020 (Whoriskey et al. Reference Whoriskey, Politzer, Reuter and Woodman2021). As stated in this 2019 indictment (USA v. Latchford a/k/a Pakpong Kriangsak. Indictment 19-CR-748; S.D.N.Y. Oct. 10, 2019), indictment dismissed (S.D.N.Y. Sept. 16, 2020), Latchford created false provenance documents (including a “False Collector”) and false invoices and shipping documents for the cultural objects he was selling. To accomplish this, Bunker and Latchford self-published several books and articles on Asian cultural objects together (e.g., Bunker and Latchford Reference Bunker and Latchford2004, Reference Bunker and Latchford2011; Latchford and Bunker Reference Douglas and Bunker2008). These publications provided these objects from the collection with a publication record, which gave them the aforementioned veneer of legitimacy while also facilitating the continuation of Latchford’s illicit trade by stimulating market demand. Although Bunker was never charged, she was identified as a “co-conspirator” together with Latchford in the complaint brought against Nancy Wiener (Blumenthal and Mashberg Reference Blumenthal and Mashberg2017). The following example highlights how she passively facilitated illicit trade with her scholarship.
In 2010, Sotheby’s auction house in New York was preparing the sale of a tenth-century statue of Duryodhana from a European private collection, which was to be sold on March 24, 2011. In preparation for the sale, Sotheby’s identified Douglas Latchford as the original seller of the statue in 1975. The auction house then “sought to retain someone to write the catalog entry for the Defendant in rem [the statue] and give a lecture about it. Based on the Collector’s [Douglas Latchford] recommendation, Sotheby’s selected a scholar of Khmer art [Emma Bunker] closely associated with the Collector (the “Scholar”)” (United States v. A 10th century Cambodian Sandstone Sculpture, 2 Civ. 2600 (GBD); S.D.N.Y. Mar. 28, 2013), Exhibit A :13). Initially, Bunker refused, stating that the statue was “definitely stolen from Prasat Chen at Koh Ker, as the feet are still in situ” (United States v. A 10th century Cambodian Sandstone Sculpture, 2 Civ. 2600 (GBD); S.D.N.Y. Mar. 28, 2013), Exhibit A :14). However, shortly after, Bunker visited Phnom Penh and changed her mind about the sale and the lecture: based on information obtained from what she calls her “culture spies,” she believed the sale could proceed. Cambodia, according to Bunker, was not planning on requesting the statue back: “I think that Sotheby can therefore go ahead and plan to sell the Koh Ker Guardian, but perhaps not good to show or mention the feet still in situ at Koh Ker in the catalogue. I would be happy to consider the lecture again under those circumstances” (United States v. A 10th century Cambodian Sandstone Sculpture, 2 Civ. 2600 (GBD); S.D.N.Y. Mar. 28, 2013), Exhibit A :16).
Bunker did indeed write the auction catalog and delivered said lecture to potential buyers, thereby lending her expertise and scholarly cachet to a cultural object she knew was looted while also benefiting from it in terms of both finances and social capital. In the lecture, she stated that the statue was “first seen at Spink and Son by your speaker in the late 1960s while visiting London” (Brodie Reference Brodie2019). When Sotheby’s was unable to establish a clear provenance dating before the 1970 UNESCO Convention provenance (the ethical bright line for many market transactions and museum acquisitions; see Marlowe Reference Marlowe2016), Bunker volunteered via email: “If I can push the provenance back to 1970, then U.S. museums can participate in the auction without any hindrance” (Mashberg and Blumenthal Reference Mashberg and Blumenthal2012). Moreover, in the catalog entry, she quotes her own work (Bunker and Latchford Reference Bunker and Latchford2004), providing further scholarly legitimacy to the object and esteem for her own work. The book she mentions contains many unprovenanced cultural objects from anonymized private collections; as a result, Anne Lemaistre, director of UNESCO’s field office in Phnom Penh, labeled the volume “the inventory of the missing cultural patrimony of Cambodia,” particularly because the authors were not prepared to share whose collections the objects belonged to (Mashberg Reference Mashberg2012). This demonstrates the extent to which Bunker was willing to go to assist her associates—dealers, collectors, auction houses—in trading illicitly obtained cultural objects while benefiting from it in the process.
Mary Slusser
An anthropologist by training, Slusser had been working on different projects in Nepal since 1965. She is credited for being “the first” to provide a comprehensive account of Nepal’s history and culture by publishing her book Nepal Mandala (Slusser Reference Slusser1982), even though these accounts had previously been written by Nepali scholars in Nepali (reflecting wider issues of epistemic injustice in knowledge creation about Nepal; see Des Chene and Onta Reference Des Chene and Onta1999). Slusser was comfortable publishing cultural objects that were very probably looted, both for academic audiences and in trade journals such as Orientations and Arts of Asia (Smith and Thompson Reference Emiline and Thompson2023). The tight-knit relationship that can exist between scholars and the market can easily be observed in these trade journals. In one essay on the tension between restoration, beautification, and authenticity, Slusser calls for transparency: she states that “given what may be different goals of academics, curators, collectors and dealers—by no means mutually exclusive professions—it is manifestly difficult to satisfy us all. But at the very least, the extent of restoration must be openly acknowledged” (Slusser Reference Slusser2005:74). Yet she did not favor such transparency when writing about probably looted and stolen cultural objects, as will be demonstrated below.
Slusser’s archives at the Smithsonian Freer Gallery of Art and the Arthur M. Sackler Gallery (Mary Slusser Collection [MSC], Smithsonian Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery Archives, Washington DC, FSA.A2015.21) provide exceptional insights into the ways in which she passively (and actively) facilitated illicit trade (Smith and Thompson Reference Emiline and Thompson2023). For example, in emails to the then-editor of dealer magazine Orientations, Slusser initially argues for inclusion of an extra example in one of her essays for the magazine—namely, three Nepali paintings from the Buddhist Itumbaha monastery in Kathmandu, Nepal. However, Slusser knew that the paintings were stolen, given that she had taken prerestoration photographs at their origin site just before the paintings disappeared (MSC, email from Mary Slusser, July 14, 2004). She also knew that they were part of the collection of Navin Kumar (MSC, email from Mary Slusser, July 20, 2004), whose gallery of Indian and Himalayan art still exists today. One of the paintings was subsequently included in the 2003 Himalayas: An Aesthetic Adventure exhibition at the Art Institute of Chicago—curated by Pratapaditya Pal—and referenced in a publication of the same name (Pal Reference Pal2003:69). The included provenance only extends to “Private collection” (Slusser Reference Slusser2005:73).
Writing about the inclusion of the looted paintings in her article, Slusser states, “Well, we could still do it very simply without spelling out that the paintings were stolen or that repatriation efforts are in the works. . . . One could just sidestep the whole issue of how it got from Itum-bahal to where it is now. This way we’re not being quite so wimpish as not saying anything” (MSC, email from Mary Slusser, May 8, 2004). Writing to a colleague, Slusser explains that she herself “would take the risk but I think Orientations shouldn’t be put in the position of handling this too-hot potato” (MSC, email from Mary Slusser, undated in reply to email dated July 22, 2004). Interestingly, Slusser mentions “we refused to show the paintings here given their nasty history” (MSC, email from Mary Slusser, August 4, 2004), with “here” meaning the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, which displayed the 2003 exhibition after the Art Institute of Chicago. This indicates some awareness of the problematic ethics surrounding the display of cultural objects—but not their publication.
Moreover, the then-editor of Orientations states, “We already have to suffer the indignity of publishing problematic pieces in the advertising as a matter of survival but hoping that our readers are aware of our disclaimer on the contents page” (MSC, email to Mary Slusser, August 5, 2004). Said disclaimer states that “the descriptions and attributions of pieces advertised in Orientations are the responsibility of the individual advertisers. Opinions expressed in this magazine are those of the authors and not necessarily shared by the publisher or editors”—hardly a deterrent against the publication of unprovenanced or illicit material.
Slusser’s archives contain further correspondence that provides an in-depth insight into the close relationship that can exist between collectors, dealers, and scholarly facilitators. For example, interspersed among numerous messages concerning social events, Slusser often solicits information and photographs to support her scholarship, or she is asked to study privately owned objects by her market connections, demonstrating the mutually dependent relationship that can exist between scholars and the market. In one instance in 2006, she contacts a renowned private collector of Himalayan art to ask if she can include an object from his collection in her written study. He replies, “As you know there has been increasing pressure (primarily from China for now) on the issue of provenance and I hear rumblings about issues with some material that is in the West. My day job already provides me with a full compliment of problems to deal with and am not looking for more” (MSC, email to Mary Slusser, June 6, 2006).
Slusser appeases the private collector with this explanation:
The rumblings you spoke of concern three well-known paintings whose theft is documented so it is a special story. However, the last thing I would want to do is stir up difficulties for you, so ultimately you must decide whether you want to take the risk. If you don’t, then can you think of any way that I can refer to it without actually publishing it? [MSC, email from Mary Slusser, June 6, 2006].
At the same time, Slusser emails her friend, another renowned scholar of Asian art, with this message:
Yes, I know [collector name] is being skittish and I can’t blame him. But, you know, that sculpture is terribly important and could be published as just “Private collection.” People will think it belongs to me! And, of course, total silence re exact provenance. . . . Except for you (who did recognize it) and me (who didn’t), I don’t believe there’s a soul in the world, including all the living Itumbaha wallahs, who would recognize where it came from. . . . So I feel if no collector’s name, no exact provenance, there’s not much risk. But in the final analysis, it is clearly up to [collector name] [MSC, email from Mary Slusser, July 28, 2006].
The collector finally agrees to Slusser including the statue in her study. Slusser then checks how to attribute the sculpture:
With respect to publishing the image, I have thought of a possible danger if you publish as [collector name]. My study will surely find its way to Itumbaha, and by rights I should see that it does. If somebody there should recognize it don’t you think it would be safer to not have your name attached. Wouldn’t it be more prudent to publish simply as Private collection? I will do whatever you direct, but I don’t want you to suffer [MSC, email from Mary Slusser, November 28, 2006].
Indeed, the owner agrees that “private collection” would be a suitable attribution (MSC, email to Mary Slusser, August 15, 2007). Slusser then promises to send the same private collector the draft of her essay because she “owed you [the private collector] the courtesy of seeing it in case you wanted any changes” (MSC, email to Mary Slusser, June 9, 2007).
In her emails, Slusser displays a level of awareness of the unethical nature of scholarly publication of likely looted cultural objects. She clearly capitalizes on the specialized access that she enjoyed as part of her position to actively assist private collectors and dealers in publishing—that is, laundering—the cultural objects in their custodianship while benefiting her own scholarship and career. In contrast, origin communities will likely not be afforded the same privileges: given that the art market functions on a close-knit, opaque, and exclusive basis (Oosterman et al. Reference Oosterman, Mackenzie and Yates2021), access to related specialized knowledge and contacts is only reserved for insiders.
Both Bunker and Slusser were ardent advocates for private collecting and the (illicit) trade of cultural objects—and by extension, their own publication of related cultural objects, because they believed the West was the most suitable place for these items. For example, Bunker (Reference Bunker, Michael and Bruning2013:33) states that “passionate private collectors have served as custodians of artifacts and have furthered scholarly knowledge. They are not all greedy looters motivated by their social position or attempting to lessen their taxes through gifts to museums. Many museum donors live in countries where tax breaks are not available, and their donations are actually made for scholarly and related altruistic reasons.” Similarly, Slusser was convinced that her own efforts to preserve Nepal’s cultural heritage should surpass even Nepali legislation or local intangible heritage:
With respect to the question you asked about my preservation efforts, what can I say? In my view I did the right thing in taking Nepalese paintings out of a country where they were disintegrating from lack of care to a country where at great cost they would be restored professionally and housed in the protected environment of a US museum of art. . . . In the nationalistic view common to many countries, the Nepalese argue that better to let the paintings rot than to leave Nepalese soil. So the question is, which of us is right? As you well know, to protect objects abroad or leave them unprotected in their country of origin is an international issue that so far seems insoluble [Slusser Reference Slusser2017].
This trope of rescue (Brodie Reference Brodie, Green and Mackenzie2009)—either physically or academically—that both Slusser and Bunker use to legitimize their scholarship and support of the market does not seem to consider that the export and trade of Nepali and Cambodian cultural objects was and remains illegal. Instead, these scholars deem it appropriate to decide the fate of these cultural objects themselves, outside of any “nationalistic” legislation, and assist in their removal from communities of origin. As Nepali historian Mahesh Raj Pant (Reference Pant2024) summarizes, “The theft and sale of Nepal’s statues, books, and other antiquities are acts of greed; they have nothing to do with preservation. Therefore, whatever arguments scholars and intellectuals who engaged in such work made for their own justification, fundamentally, they acted out of greed. Hence, there is no point in trying to save Mary Schlusser in this regard.”
In Nepal, the facilitation of illicit trade by American academics has long been well known; so much so that a Tribhuvan University (Kathmandu, Nepal) professor stated the following in a 1984 letter:
I have a friend who is an archaeologist who has all but given up his profession, because according to him, every time there is an illustrated lecture on the art history of Nepal delivered by [names deleted] it is almost 100 percent sure that the art objects discussed have vanished from Kathmandu. The United States’ art historians have academically guided the art pillage of Kathmandu [Sassoon Reference Sassoon1991].
Their scholarship was created for Western eyes only, yet continues to be celebrated today, even when riddled with mistakes (see, e.g., Kadetsky Reference Kadetsky2023; Smith and Thompson Reference Emiline and Thompson2023). They were—and, for some, are still—considered as experts in their field, so their voices contribute to the way in which we not only think about cultural objects but make decisions about their display, protection, and conservation. For example, Bunker was invited as speaker at a workshop at the Museum of Vietnamese History in Ho Chi Minh City, jointly organized by SOAS’s Southeast Asian Art Academic Program and the Freer Sackler Galleries, with the aim of preparing a catalog for the museum (SOAS Watch 2019). This should have been a controversial choice, considering that Bunker’s involvement in Douglas Latchford’s illicit trade network was already known (see, e.g., Blumenthal and Mashberg Reference Blumenthal and Mashberg2017). A quick internet search shows that both Bunker’s and Slusser’s works are included in syllabi on Asian art history and archaeology today. Additionally, in a 2023 publication by the Rubin Museum in New York titled Himalayan Art in 108 Objects (Debreczey and Pakhoutovha Reference Debreczey and Pakhoutovha2023), Slusser was frequently cited as an authority on Nepal’s art history in several of the 108 chapters. Interestingly, critical reflections around provenance and colonialism are absent from the volume (Thompson Reference Thompson2024), as are critical reflections on the positionality of the authors themselves. This in turn results in the even further marginalization of Indigenous perspectives: not only are they prevented from having agency over, access to, and ownership of their physical cultural objects but are also denied the knowledge that is created around these objects and the benefits that come with such knowledge production.
Knowing Better, Doing Better
The illicit trade in cultural objects persists (Brodie et al. Reference Brodie, Kersel, Mackenzie, Sabrine, Smith and Yates2022). Some scholars have been clear participants in such illicit trade. They have actively benefited from the “don’t ask, don’t tell” premise on which the art market is based (Mackenzie and Yates Reference Mackenzie, Yates, Beckert and Dewey2017; Yates and Smith Reference Yates, Smith and Stevenson2022). There are significant differences in ethical practices across various academic disciplines, and the segmented nature of the Western academic tradition inadvertently creates a shield for individual scholars to enable them to dissociate themselves from the potentially harmful and criminogenic consequences that their scholarship may contribute to. This article hopes to stimulate further reassessment of (archaeological) scholarship to determine whether Bunker and Slusser represent the exception or the norm when it comes to scholarly facilitation of illicit trade of cultural objects.
Collecting, displaying, handling, and retaining cultural objects removed due to (colonial) exploitation is a continuation of the perpetration of these injustices. This concerns both the physical and digital lives of objects. As Chao (Reference Chao, Foster, Chao and Valmisa2024:31) states, as scholars we are “inextricably bound up in the web of structures that make up the current system in which cultural heritage is being unethically exploited.” For those of us studying, handling, writing about, making decisions about, or benefiting from cultural objects in any way, we must ask ourselves the following: in what ways are we potential stakeholders in—or at least benefiting from—the global illicit trade in cultural objects and the broader colonial systems that are intricately connected to it?
Now is the time to dismantle the exploitative, harmful, and colonial knowledge systems that continue to reign and circulate today and on which so many academic disciplines are based. Now is the time to build equitable, sustainable knowledge production practices, instead of continuing epistemic injustice by excluding, silencing, and misrepresenting origin communities. Now is the time “to reverse the conditions under which art and art objects are perceived as separate from the active life of communities,” as Azoulay (Reference Azoulay2019:100) puts it, for which “decolonizing museums is essential to rewinding the imperial condition.” This includes the way scholars categorize, think about, publicize, display, handle, and interact with cultural objects. Instead of prioritizing scholarship built on privilege, violence, and exploitation, there is an opportunity here for self-reflection on the ways in which academics and museums may have abused their trusted position in society and how they can break this cycle and create change.
Reflexivity
There are several steps we can take immediately as a scholarly community to refrain from relying on past scholarship grounded in exploitation and avoid further academic involvement in illicit trade of cultural objects. First, it is essential that we are more self-reflective about the way we work and how we are using our spheres of influence. Questioning our positionality and privilege can be a painful endeavor. It can also be performative (see, e.g., Serunkuma Reference Serunkuma2024). But if we are truly committed to deconstructing the Eurocentric, colonial lens on which much scholarship and institutions are still based today, reflexivity is key. Unfortunately, such reflexivity is not yet commonplace in social sciences writing (Massoud Reference Massoud2022), including in my own previous work. This needs to change.
I am a full-time lecturer in criminology at the University of Glasgow, in Scotland, with a background in public archaeology. I acknowledge my privilege as a cisgender, white, middle-class woman in academia. The oppressive regimes of the patriarchal society I am a part of disempower me as a woman, but my economic status as a white middle-class woman and the political status of my Dutch passport empower me. I seek to use my privileges, including the platforms and spaces I have access to, to empower Indigenous epistemic inclusion and to create spaces for critical discourse and community building. My research takes place primarily in Asia; it focuses on the protection, trade, and repatriation of cultural and natural resources and associated questions of harm, crime, and justice. Such questions replicate wider discussions in criminology around the intersection of race, gender, class, and age. Working toward epistemic inclusion and social justice therefore means that I constantly ask myself when to speak up and when to stay silent; which narratives to be part of and when not to take up space; how to reframe my academic responsibilities so as not to perpetuate current systems of oppression but instead interrupt or disrupt current oppressive colonial systems; how to work toward having marginalized voices’ agency and knowledges recognized, respected, and valued in the academic domain; how to engage in critical reflexive praxis while interrogating what scholarly allyship and decolonization efforts look like in this space; and more. This article represents some of the ways I think we can facilitate unlearning and decentering of dominant academic knowledge systems while working toward inclusion of underrepresented voices and narratives, even in the face of the oppressive and colonial knowledge systems that academia constantly produces, reproduces, and protects.
I am a full-time lecturer in criminology at the University of Glasgow, in Scotland, with a background in public archaeology. I acknowledge my privilege as a cisgender, white, middle-class woman in academia. The oppressive regimes of the patriarchal society I am a part of disempower me as a woman, but my economic status as a white middle-class woman and the political status of my Dutch passport empower me. I seek to use my privileges, including the platforms and spaces I have access to, to empower Indigenous epistemic inclusion and to create spaces for critical discourse and community building. My research takes place primarily in Asia; it focuses on the protection, trade, and repatriation of cultural and natural resources and associated questions of harm, crime, and justice. Such questions replicate wider discussions in criminology around the intersection of race, gender, class, and age. Working toward epistemic inclusion and social justice therefore means that I constantly ask myself when to speak up and when to stay silent; which narratives to be part of and when not to take up space; how to reframe my academic responsibilities so as not to perpetuate current systems of oppression, but instead interrupt and/or disrupt current oppressive colonial systems; how to work toward having marginalized voices’ agency and knowledges recognized, respected, and valued in the academic domain; how to engage in critical reflexive praxis while interrogating what scholarly allyship and/or decolonization efforts look like in this space; and more. This article represents some of the ways I think we can facilitate unlearning and decentering of dominant academic knowledge systems while working toward inclusion of underrepresented voices and narratives, even in the face of the oppressive and colonial knowledge systems that academia constantly produces, reproduces, and protects.
Critical Assessment of Scholarship
Second, it is essential that we critically assess what scholarship we build on today so as not to reproduce elitist, colonialist power hierarchies in knowledge production. In this, it is important not to reify the scholars that have come before us. The languages and images of the past that supported oppressive systems continue to haunt the present (cf. Saini Reference Saini2019). Many statues and monuments today are viewed as symbols of a country’s violent colonial past and ongoing inequalities (see, e.g., Sanni and Phiri Reference Sanni and Zililo Phiri2024). In some instances, the appropriate solution for this will be to remove a specific harmful statue (Mahali Reference Mahali, Nettleton and Fubah2020). However, in other cases, these statues offer a valuable opportunity to explore their controversial nature through thoughtful contextualization and sensitivity.
How should we address the legacies and reputations of problematic past scholarship and its authors? Like statues and monuments, problematic past scholarship presents an opportunity to historically contextualize the literature in question while pointing out its outdated, incorrect, and potentially offensive contents and encourage critical discussion. Past scholarship that emphasizes aestheticization, decontextualization, and commodification of cultural objects—such as the works of Bunker and Slusser—fundamentally undermines knowledge by neglecting the perspectives of the communities from which these objects originate. Such scholarship should not simply be banned or deleted; instead, it can be built on to avoid such exploitative practices. A good starting point would be to promote inclusive scholarship by integrating diverse perspectives and fostering transparent, equitable engagement with the communities affected.
Archaeology remains deeply entrenched in Western paradigms of producing and reproducing archaeological knowledge, from which only a small elite truly benefit (Atalay Reference Atalay, Habu, Fawcett and Matsunaga2008). To counter this, a rigorous reassessment of scholarship surrounding cultural objects is needed to work toward a decentralized form of accountability, agency, and authority in scholarship that prioritizes epistemic justice. Such decentering of academia in knowledge production is particularly important in interdisciplinary endeavors (Alonso-Yanez et al. Reference Alonso-Yanez, House-Peters, Garcia-Cartagena, Bonelli, Lorenzo-Arana and Ohira2019), such as the study of illicit trade in cultural objects. Scholarship is about exchanging and discussing ideas with others. Rather than venturing into the waters of cancel culture, of censorship without dialogue, and of identitarian activism, let us work together to dismantle enduring colonial and harmful knowledge systems. This recalibration toward Indigenous ways of knowing and doing—particularly the prioritization of multivocality (Atalay Reference Atalay, Habu, Fawcett and Matsunaga2008)—creates exciting opportunities for collaborations, methodologies, and outputs (see, e.g., Acabado and Martin Reference Acabado and Martin2020; Gegeo and Watson-Gegeo Reference Gegeo and Ann Watson-Gegeo2001; Sium and Ritskes Reference Sium and Ritskes2013). As Rusbridger (quoted in Cairns Reference Cairns2013) states, “It cannot be true that there are only a handful of people worth listening to in the world.”
Leveraging Privilege
Third, we can leverage our privilege to prioritize restoring access, agency, and ownership of both physical objects and the knowledge surrounding these objects to their origin communities, where they so desire. Looting and theft of cultural objects is fueled by market demand for such objects; scholars should not contribute to this market demand by authenticating and publishing unprovenanced, (probably) looted, or sensitive and sacred cultural objects. Instead, we should focus on more collaborations with nonacademic stakeholders, including the sharing of our platforms of privilege, such as archives, data, and intellectual property. In the absence of digital equity, it is important to share all knowledge systems, transferring ownership to the impacted community of origin and accepting that this may lead to inaccessibility of materials (see, for example, the work of Pavis and Wallace Reference Pavis and Wallace2019, Reference Pavis and Wallace2023; Wallace Reference Wallace2021). By acknowledging historical injustices, incorporating diverse perspectives, and fostering collaboration with affected communities to ensure that their stories and knowledge are respected and valued, we can create more inclusive and equitable scholarship.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank Erin Thompson for graciously sharing her resources for this article; and Sally Day, Morag Kersel, and Stefanie Lotter for their insightful comments on earlier drafts. No permits were required for this work.
Funding Statement
The fieldwork supporting this article was generously funded by the Swedish Riksbankens Jubileumsfonds as part of the Heritage as Placemaking: The Politics of Solidarity and Erasure in South Asia project (2022–2026).
Data Availability Statement
The Mary Slusser archives used in this article are open access. These archives are available via the Smithsonian Online Virtual Archives: https://sova.si.edu/record/fsa.a2015.21, accessed October 29, 2024.
Competing Interests
The author declares there are no competing interests.
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