Between 1976 and 1991, central Beirut, repository of centuries of historic structures, was substantially destroyed by civil war. In 1994, a private company known by its French acronym Solidère was created by government decree and given the task of reconstructing the center of Beirut. Despite political problems, the Solidère project brought the hope of social recovery through economic renewal; yet progress should not come at the cost of memory.

How can Beirut, destroyed, be a site of both recovery and erasure? Even though traditional legal and political discourses acknowledge that cultural heritage holds a powerful position in reconstruction, there are few tools for capturing its functions. Using heuristics originally employed in archeology and art history, this article addresses psychological aspects of reconstruction by discussing contemporary Lebanese art. If culture is defined not only as what people do but how they make sense of what they have done, the enormity of the political problems of post–civil war reconstruction become clear. National governments hoping to consolidate authority would do well to consider how best to approach public places resonant with emotionally charged memories.

Policymakers should consider the complex benefits of negative heritage in drafting laws that will enable its protection. Legal reform carried out with the goal of balanced heritage policies that accommodate negative heritage is key for postconflict urban spaces. By acknowledging the weight of the past, such policies would also bolster confidence in the emergent government and the political process.

This article responds to John Merryman's article on cultural property internationalism in the last issue of the International Journal of Cultural Property (IJCP). It considers the increasing, although still limited, role that art historians working out of universities play in the debates around the ownership of cultural property. Although there are a number of principles embedded in cultural internationalism that are still widely supported, art historians seem to be moving away from cultural property internationalism. One reason for the increasing critique of cultural property internationalism is the rise of scholarship that questions traditional art history and its relationship to colonialism.

Responding to J. H. Merryman's discussion of cultural property internationalism in the preceding IJCP issue, this article examines the currency of the internationalist perspective within the museum community. Perhaps surprisingly, there is little evidence of adherence to an internationalist perspective, at least among the official policies and publications of museums and museum organizations. The article proposes that the current dissociation with cultural internationalism in the acquisitions arena signals an important shift, and bears significant long-term consequences for many museums.

The view that “cultural property internationalism” (Merryman) is represented by the Hague Convention 1954 and that it has been departed from in later UNESCO instruments can be challenged. Words which carry particular connotations can distort the argument—property is one of them, so cultural property is already a loaded term. The historical sources used to buttress the modern argument for more liberal trade in cultural objects bear other interpretations. Similarly, UNESCO's mandate has been narrowed in a way not justified by its constitution. UNESCO's later instruments, such as the 1970 Convention, do not represent an aversion to the art market, as is witnessed by its development on an international Code for Dealers. However, the art trade at present is based on the secrecy of transactions, and this has led to a number of scandals. Neither assessment of the interests at stake nor treaties on human rights or trade require tolerance of these practices.

On its surface, Bonnichsen v. United States is an administrative law case, reviewing a decision by the Secretary of the Interior regarding the appropriate reach of a specific set of legislative and regulatory rules. As such, Judge Gould, writing for a panel of the Ninth Circuit of the United States Court of Appeals (Ninth Circuit) decided that the secretary's office had overstepped its bounds; in short, its interpretation of the rules in question was not reasonable. But underneath the legal categories, Bonnichsen is a much more complicated and politically charged case. It is about competing conceptions of history and spirituality. It is about sovereignty (although that word is not uttered once in the decision, aside from reciting a definition of Native Hawaiians) and the clash of cultures. It is less about the standards for decision making and more about who the appropriate decision makers are. It is a case about a man who lived 9,000 years ago and about how today we should understand his cultural identity.

The most recent opinion in the so-called Kennewick Man or Ancient One (as many American Indians choose to call the skeleton) case by the United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit unfortunately resurrects some very old and contentious issues in America. Indians mostly view the opinion as one more echo of the same old story of Native American property issues raised in the courts, but they also understand that some implications may be broader. The most direct impact of the opinion is that the Umatilla people will not be allowed to return the Ancient One to the earth, but others could be portents of a larger resurgence of anti-Indian sentiment and scientific colonialism in America. Specifically, though not directly stated as such, the court's opinion supports a notion that archaeological materials are a public heritage, no matter their culture of origin. In addition, by affirming the plaintiffs' position, the court essentially declared archaeologists and associated scientists to be the primary stewards of that heritage, much to the chagrin of many American Indian people. Along the way, the court reinforced the idea that scientifically generated evidence has greater validity than oral tradition in court, outright denying oral tradition's validity and undercutting a major intention of the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA). Worse still, the court reflects—and by its decision supports—an idea that there may be a “white” or European history for the Americas that predates the arrival of Indians. The most damaging and long-term impact is that the decision reinforces fundamentally erroneous definitions and stereotypes about Indians as tribes, which has plagued Indian-white relations for generations.

The Bonnichsen decision has been heralded as a victory for anthropology, because it appears to vindicate the position of the plaintiffs who brought their suit in order to be allowed to conduct scientific research on a 9,000-year-old skeleton from North America. It appears to be a defeat for Native Americans, who view this skeleton as an ancestor and who would prefer to see the remains of this individual returned to the ground to continue the long journey back to the earth. In fact, this polarized view of the case returns the discourse surrounding repatriation to a previous level in which arguments were made over the question, “who owns the past?” While this may be a rhetorically satisfying problem to wrestle with, it does not capture the true nature of how archaeology can engage with Native people in the process of understanding ancient lives. It presumes that the past exists as a form of property. Under this simplistic construction, human remains can exist as property and can be owned by one group or another.

When I was asked by Dr. O'Keefe, Book Editor of the International Journal of Cultural Property, to review “War and Cultural Heritage” by Kevin Chamberlain I immediately agreed because I wished to see the first scholarly article-by-article commentary on the 1999 Second Protocol (“the Second Protocol”) to the 1954 Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict (“the Convention”) as well as another commentary on the Convention and the 1954 First Protocol.