A Game of Torn Thrones

Despite the fact that colonialism ended decades ago, colonial thinking remains strong in certain quarters. On November 12, the United Kingdom’s Art Ministry announced that a “temporary export bar” had been placed on a certain ornament held in Britain – a tiger head’s finial that had once adorned the throne of an 18th century Indian ruler, Tipu Sultan.

Since the announcement is secretive about ownership, one can infer that the owner is a private person (or institution) based in the U.K. What the ministry is clear about is that the item is now being auctioned and there is a preference for a U.K. buyer, hence the temporary export bar. The ministry says it upfront: “The export bar is to allow time for a UK gallery or institution to acquire the piece.” This also prevents, temporarily, external buyers from acquiring the finial.

It is an instance of blatant arrogance given that it is nearly certain that the item had come to the British isles as little more than loot from the subcontinent. The only option that the British government should be considering is how to return it to India, and yet that option does not even merit a mention from the Art Ministry.

A Game of Torn Thrones

Tipu Sultan was a ruler in the Sultanate of Mysore in south India, and his kingdom stood out in history for resisting British conquest much longer than others. Mysore inflicted substantially high casualties on the East India Company during the four wars they needed to bring down the sultanate. Finally, however, the state of Mysore fell, its ruler died in the final confrontation in 1799, and company soldiers plundered his palace in Seringapatam.

One of the objects torn asunder by the looting was Tipu Sultan’s throne. The Arts Council of England admits that “after […] throne’s dismemberment, the very large amount of gold with which it was covered, along with the canopy and other jewelled parts were divided,” a clear confirmation that the throne must have been richly adorned and unbelievably valuable. Our knowledge of what happened to most of the separated parts is very limited: We only know of the whereabouts of a few pieces, and rather unsurprisingly, all happen to be kept in Britain. Of these, the location of one of the throne’s finials is known (to the British government, but not to us).

The Arts Council of England describes the ornament as made from “gold on a resin core, and set with diamonds, rubies and emeralds” and “set on a black marble base, inscribed with Persian script.” The finial is said to have been placed on a “galleried edge of the throne” and shaped into a tiger’s head. The tiger symbol had been important for Mysore’s ruler – Tipu Sultan held tigers in his palace and even a kept an automaton showing a tiger killing an East India Company soldier (the device was looted as well and is kept in the Victoria and Albert Museum).

The Council does inform us that the item could have belonged to Thomas Wallace, who served as the Commissioner for the Affairs of India, and that after his death the finial was passed on as an inheritance – although this does not explain who holds it now and who plundered it originally (Wallace became commissioner in 1800, and the looting of palace took place in 1799). Most probably, therefore, the ornament had been kept in private British hands since the plunder.

No Way Home for Stolen Artifacts

Despite the above facts, the British art minister himself made it clear that he wants a buyer based in the United Kingdom to purchase the item so that it would remain in the country. A review committee (Reviewing Committee on the Export of Works of Art and Objects of Cultural Interest) offered a number of justifications for this, none of which even considers the option of returning the item to India, and many of which are either bizarre or brazen. These include: “Tipu’s defeat having great historical importance to Britain’s imperial past,” the item being “closely connected with our [British] history and national life,” as well as being “of outstanding significance for the study of royal propaganda.” If there is one point I agree with here it is the last one, although probably not in the way which the authors of the justifications intended.

That such plundered items should have been simply restored to the countries of their origin appears to me as an obvious – if futile – demand. I do not think there is a need to counter the above justifications, although what may be needed is to counter others (which I do below). While I am aware that this will not happen, the most fair course of action would be for a British government institution to purchase the finial during the current auction and then to gift it to India. The fact that the finial belongs to a private person – because of which the cost of acquisition will surely be tremendous and because of which some may claim that the British government bears no moral responsibility – is a weak counterpoint.

During the East Indian Company exploits, the public sphere mixed with the private, and the initiatives of the whole company were tangled with independent acts of its officials and commanders. These individuals would often make sure to steal for themselves while plundering in the name of the Company at the same time. One such man, the famed Robert Clive, robbed so much that today there is a whole Clive Museum, which houses the items he brought to Britain from India (and this is probably just a part). The most successful among these so-called “nabobs” would come back to Britain with great riches in their coffers, and some of them would then buy the votes of constituencies known as “rotten boroughs” to become members of Parliament. In other words, not only did the gains of the Company greatly strengthen the British economy, but the simultaneous looting of Indian treasures by British citizens affected the politics of the United Kingdom.

Other counterpoints to the general demand for returning stolen colonial goods – which the British Art Ministry does not even mention in its announcement, but which one may often encounter – may include: claiming that Western countries take care of the heritage better, claiming that all countries possess something plundered in their museums, and claiming that it is not always easy to identify the original owner. All of these are weak points.

The issue of problems with managing heritage are true but cannot serve as justification for anything. By this logic, a thief should be allowed to keep a stolen item if he is able to prove he could take care of it better. This, by and large, is the same point still being used to defend colonial rule as a whole: That it was justified because the Empire built railways in subjugated countries (which they did not do by themselves). At any rate, the point becomes absurd in this particular case as the maintenance of the throne was surely comparatively better before the coming of the British, given that the first thing that happened to Tipu Sultan’s throne when the British got ahold of it was its dismantlement.

Other instances may be more complex but still not that much in favor of apologists of colonialism. It must be pointed out that in the late colonial period, since the last decades of 19th century, British colonial rule did start to take greater care of India’s historical heritage. It was then that the Archeological Survey of India was established, and this institution protected such iconic Indian monuments as the Taj Mahal. But it was equally true that in the earlier, turbulent and chaotic period of British conquest, the soldiers of the East India Company would sometimes come to the unprotected Taj Mahal to steal some of its gems (soldiers of some of the local Indian states did this, too).

As for all (or nearly all) countries possessing goods stolen from elsewhere: First, in an ideal world, all of these items should have been returned. Yet, second, there is a tremendous imbalance in how much stolen goods are kept in museums or private collections of former colonial powers, such as the U.K., France, and Russia, and how much are to be found in most other states. The British Museum itself is said to hold over 10,000 items brought from elsewhere, according to one estimate. It is these nations that should show the way, and only then would it be fair to expect others to follow.

Finally, that the primary owner is sometimes unknown is not a justification for not returning the item. Many of the states that had been plundered by colonial powers do not exist anymore – and colonialism is often the primary reason for their demise. Yet, although this solution may sometimes appear challenging, an attempt should be made to return artifacts to the country that currently holds control of the territories from which the goods were looted, or is seen as the inheritor of the plundered groups and cultures – although in case there is a difference between territories and groups, or in case there are competing claims, this solution by itself would not be enough to solve the dispute.

However, the situation is clear in this case. The kingdom of Mysore does not exist anymore, but it was not destroyed by the British. Once Tipu Sultan fell in 1799, the East India Company took away a considerable part of his territories, but gave the rest to an earlier dynasty (the Wodeyars, whom Tipu Sultan’s father had deposed). In 1947, with the British leaving, the state of Mysore acceded to the nascent Republic of India. It is true that the new Indian government did not always play clean when convincing rulers to join its new republic. Still, neither the territories that constituted former Mysore nor the heritage of its former dynasties is now claimed by any other state, and hence they are not part of any dispute. It is clear that that whatever belonged to Tipu Sultan and had been taken out of South Asia should be given back to the government of India.