Stolen Once, Endangered Again: From Colonial Theft to Climate Change

I had the opportunity to sit down with Dr. Cresa Pugh, the Assistant Professor of Sociology at The New School for Social Research. She advocates for the restitution of stolen artifacts from periods of imperialism. Dr. Pugh focuses her work on postcolonial Africa and Southeast Asia, exploring the history and violence behind artifacts enclosed in museums. In this conversation with Dr. Pugh, we explore how objects from the past carry both violence and perseverance, while also preserving stories of survival and continuity.

While in the past, artifacts were lost to conquest and colonial extraction, today, rising seas, land subsidence, and extreme weather are placing artifacts at increasing risks. Protecting them is not only keeping the past alive, but choosing which stories we wish to hold on to.

Here’s an excerpt from the interview:

V: What sparked your interest in bringing awareness to artifacts

and objects stolen during times of imperialism?

Dr. Pugh: I was conducting research at the British Library on a topic entirely

unrelated to artifacts or imperialism as material culture. At the time, my work focused on

the long-term effects of imperialism on racism, xenophobia, and religious persecution.

Specifically, I was studying the Rohingya community, an ethnic minority in Myanmar,

and examining how imperialism had shaped racism in Myanmar.

So, while colonialism was very much on my mind, material culture was not.

However, during the summer I was in London conducting this research, a major public

debate emerged around an exhibition scheduled to open at the Victoria and Albert

Museum. That debate ultimately redirected my research focus.

Here’s more context: in 1868, British forces stormed the imperial palace in Ethiopia and

looted a significant number of sacred and royal objects. For more than 150 years, these

artifacts remained in possession of the Victoria and Albert Museum. Most

Ethiopians—both within Ethiopia and in the diaspora—were unaware of their location,

as the objects had largely been kept in storage and out of public view.

In 2018, exactly 150 years after the raid, the museum announced plans to exhibit these

artifacts. This decision provoked anger and grief within the Ethiopian community for two

primary reasons. First, many people were only just learning that these objects had been

in London all along—that for a century and a half, deeply significant cultural and

religious artifacts had been held without their knowledge. Second, the exhibition raised

an unavoidable question: if the museum possessed these objects, why had they never

been returned?

The artifacts in question included sacred items central to Ethiopian religious and

spiritual life, as well as royal objects of immense symbolic importance—among them a

chalice associated with the crown of the Ethiopian prince and a Bible that belonged to

his wife. These objects were taken during an episode of extreme violence. The prince,

facing imminent execution, took his own life; his wife was captured and held hostage.

The looting of these items was inseparable from that trauma.

As I followed these debates in London, the topic, quite literally, fell into my lap—at the

right time, in the right place—reshaping the direction of my research in ways I could not

have planned. I was already researching imperialism, but what I had not anticipated was

how directly these questions would converge around material culture.

V: You have written a lot of research papers and books. Can you share more about

your first book, “Guardians of beautiful things, the Politics of Post-Colonial Cultural

Heritage Theft, Refusal and Repair”?

Dr. Pugh: The book is an extension of my dissertation from graduate school. It

examines imperialism through the theft of artifacts, specifically, objects looted under

imperial rule.

Typically, when we think about imperialism and how it was manifested—the tactics,

methods, and technologies used to colonize countries—we think about political

imperialism, economic exploitation, diplomatic strategies, and military force. We also

think about how social structures were disrupted: family life, religion, and other cultural

Systems.

But we rarely think about how art and artifacts, and the theft of those objects, were

themselves part of the imperial project. What my work does is ask how the theft of

artifacts functioned as another form of imperialism.

At the same time, there has been a major debate over the last decade or so but

especially since 2018 about restitution and repatriation. In particular, the 2018 restitution

report by Bénédicte Savoy and Felwine Sarr was a major catalyst for renewed

conversations around the return of artifacts to their countries of origin, especially those

that were taken under imperial rule.

So, the book also asks the reverse question: if the theft of artifacts was central to

imperialism, then how do debates around returning artifacts help us think about

decolonialism? In other words, how does restitution function as an anti-imperial or

decolonial practice?

The book is organized into five chapters, each addressing a different dimension of

restitution debates. There’s a legal dimension, an economic dimension, a political

dimension, a cultural dimension, and an aesthetic dimension.

People often assume that returning objects should be simple. I’m often asked, “Why

don’t they just give them back? They were stolen, so isn’t it a no-brainer?” But what I

argue is that restitution is actually very complicated.

There are legal reasons that museums and governments cite, particularly in countries

like the UK and France, where laws restrict the ability of institutions to return objects.

There are also economic reasons, political and diplomatic considerations, aesthetic

arguments, and cultural and spiritual dimensions that shape these debates.

So, the book works through each of those areas to explain why restitution, despite

seeming obvious on a moral level, is far more complex in practice.

V: That’s actually very interesting. I’ve never thought about why it would be so hard to return stolen objects.

Dr. Pugh: Yes, it is actually very complicated, even though it seems obvious at

first. If a country believes that artifacts should be returned or wants them to be

repatriated—and if we are, in many ways, past the era of imperialism—many former

empires publicly acknowledged and apologized for the harm committed during colonial

rule. There is broad recognition that the violence and transgressions of imperialism

were wrong.

So, if we all recognize this, the question becomes: why don’t we return the objects?

Doing so wouldn’t undo the past, but it could at least address some of the harm. If there

is agreement on that point, why isn’t the process straightforward?

My book focuses on explaining why it is far more complicated than it appears. Requests

for the return of artifacts have been made for decades, if not centuries. Even during the

colonial period, countries were asking for these objects to be returned. While some

artifacts have been repatriated, very few have been returned relative to the scale of the

requests made by the countries from which they were taken.

V: Thanks for sharing. Based on your research, can you share examples of the lasting

impacts of imperialism on modern-day society?

Dr. Pugh: When I was at the British Library in 2018, I was researching what I

describe as a contemporary genocide affecting the Rohingya, a Muslim minority

community in Myanmar. They have experienced decades of persecution, both from the

Burmese government and from local communities. They have been victims of both

state-sponsored violence and communal violence.

This community has been experiencing a slow-moving genocide over many decades.

The research I was doing in 2018 argues that this violence is rooted in imperialism. In

the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, British imperial authorities constructed

categories of race, ethnicity, and religion, and forcibly shifted populations. People were

made to migrate from certain areas of British India to others, which created social

stratification that placed some communities above others. National borders were drawn

in ways that created conflict, and labor markets were segmented, with certain groups

placed in positions of authority.

All of these practices generated deep tensions within communities during the nineteenth

and twentieth centuries, and those categories, hierarchies, and competitions between

ethnic, racial, and religious groups have persisted, even as they have changed over

time. My argument is that the contemporary genocide is rooted in these imperial

structures and decisions that were made centuries ago. That is just one example.

There are many others. If we think about Haiti, for instance, it is one of the poorest

countries in the world. This is evident in everyday life: widespread economic struggle,

high levels of out-migration, difficulty recovering from natural disasters, and very low

indicators across quality-of-life measures—economic stability, health, and education.

So, the question is why. To understand that we have to look to the past.

Haiti’s economic disenfranchisement and political instability are largely explained by its

colonial history. France colonized Haiti, and Haiti was the first nation to gain

independence through a successful revolt. That is something to celebrate. However,

when France withdrew, it charged Haiti with reparations for independence. The French

government essentially demanded payment for what it defined as lost “property,” which

included enslaved people and natural resources.

As a result, Haiti was founded in deficit. It had little control over its own natural

resources, and much of the economic productivity generated from those resources was

exported to France. This severely limited Haiti’s ability to establish economic stability.

Although Haiti had once been economically productive, its resources and revenues

were systematically extracted, undermining its long-term development.

There are hundreds, if not thousands, of similar examples where countries have been

disenfranchised and where imperial legacies continue to shape present conditions. We

can also look closer to home. The United States is often not formally described as an

imperial power, but historically and in practice, it has acted as one. Territories such as

Hawaii, Guam, and Puerto Rico reflect this history, even if it is not labeled as

Imperialism.

Puerto Rico, for example, has long struggled to liberate itself from U.S. control. It has

significantly lower quality-of-life indicators compared to U.S. states, including economic,

health, and educational outcomes. These conditions are widely understood as the result

of long-term neglect and their treatment as a secondary territory rather than as a fully

incorporated part of the United States.

These examples —Myanmar, Haiti, and Puerto Rico—illustrate how imperial and

colonial structures have impoverished nations and created internal conflicts among

groups. The effects of those historic systems continue to shape modern societies in

very real ways.

V: Wow, it’s striking how the drive to expand territory, regions, and power has created

so many lasting impacts that were never intended.

Dr. Pugh: Exactly. Hundreds of years later, we’re still dealing with the

ramifications of those decisions and their consequences.

V: I wrote this question before I realized how difficult it actually is to return artifacts.

You advocate for the restitution of looted artifacts—what kinds of artifacts have you

helped return to their rightful owners?

Dr. Pugh: I want to be clear that I haven’t personally helped return any artifacts.

I study the process of restitution, but I haven’t been directly involved in any returns. I

wish I could say that I had, and maybe one day I’ll contribute indirectly, but my work

focuses on analyzing how difficult the process is rather than carrying it out myself.

V: That makes sense. How are you able to decipher the stories of both violence and

perseverance through artifacts?

Dr. Pugh: I think this is really the dichotomy of theft and restitution. The violence

is that imperial nations stole these artifacts. And in the process, it wasn’t just objects

that were taken—it was history and sacred meaning. These are historical artifacts in the

sense that they function as living archives. Many people also understand them as living,

breathing ancestors that have been reanimated as artifacts.

So in that sense, these ancestors have been stolen, the sacred meaning has been

stolen, the historical importance has been stolen, and of course, the physical objects

themselves have been stolen. That is violence: the theft, the removal. People

sometimes use the language of “enslavement”—they’ll say these artifacts, these

ancestors, have been enslaved in Western museums. That’s the violence of it: the

taking.

The perseverance is reflected in the attempts at restitution—the efforts by people in

source countries to get their artifacts back. People fight for years and decades to have

these objects returned. It doesn’t happen very often, but some have been returned. That

perseverance is people continuing to make the case that these objects are ultimately

theirs and should remain theirs, in an effort to restore dignity, history, and a sense of

spirituality and culture to nations that were robbed of these things under imperialism.

V: So much history has been destroyed due to imperialism. What action can an

everyday person take to help restore what was once lost?

Dr. Pugh: That’s a great question. I know your question is broader, but since

we’re talking about artifacts, I think the biggest action we can take is to raise

awareness. Raising awareness of the violence, the lasting effects of imperialism, and

the fact that many countries have still not received their artifacts back. Continuing to talk

about it and continuing to write about it.

There are community groups dedicated to this work. There are struggles in Puerto Rico

for independence. There are struggles in Haiti to get France to pay back the reparations

that were taken from them. Movements are working to correct the history of imperialism,

and I think we all need to get involved. The struggle of the Puerto Rican people is part

of the struggle of all Americans.

In terms of artifacts specifically, I wrote a piece in a journal called Europe Now. In it, I

argue that the diplomatic negotiations between imperial nations and the countries from

which artifacts were looted have gone on for many years. Governments have tried to

make moral and legal cases for why artifacts should be returned, but it’s very difficult.

There are many hurdles and reasons museums, and Western countries give for why

they can’t return them.

In that article, I discuss the argument that the only way to get them back is to “steal

them back.” That idea isn’t mine—it’s a concept I learned from a Congolese-Belgian

activist and performance artist named Mwazulu Diabanza. During the pandemic, around

2020 and 2021, he staged performances where he would go to museums in Paris and

Belgium, identify Congolese objects, take them from display, and attempt to walk out

with them while filming on Instagram Live and Facebook Live.

He sometimes got surprisingly far. He wasn’t trying to permanently steal the objects—it

was performance and protest. He was arrested multiple times and received minor fines,

but his point was that these conversations have been happening for decades and that

governments promise returns and do not follow through. In his view, symbolic returns

may happen, but not everything that is being asked for, and the only way to secure

these objects is to take them back. So, in response to your question about undoing the

harms of colonialism, that is the intervention he was making.

V: I’m definitely going to look him up.

Dr. Pugh: Yeah, he’s really interesting. Obviously, I wouldn’t advocate that

anyone actually do this, because you could get into serious trouble, but it’s a powerful

idea. He calls it “direct restitution.”

V: Do you think expressing hospitality and being welcoming to other cultures during

colonial times was seen as a weakness that was targeted by imperialists?

Dr. Pugh: I think there was some hospitality and welcoming behavior, but I

would say most of imperialism was violent. A lot of it began through trade, often framed

as more equal exchange, where it was, “You have natural resources; we’re interested in

them; we’ll come purchase them.” But the purchase turned into coercion and violence.

I think the initial opening may have been made in good faith, but ultimately that

welcoming attitude was exploited and then became violent. Narratives that portray

colonized nations as simply open, welcoming, and benevolent can make them seem

naïve or lacking agency, which takes power away from what actually happened. In

many cases, people were forcibly coerced. Colonial powers had weapons that the

nations they colonized did not, and colonization was achieved by force.

So yes, there may have been a small role played by early expectations of exchange or

circulation of goods, but ultimately, the violence of colonialism prevailed.

V: Yes, because in school we learn about how Christopher Columbus invaded land,

and people were welcoming at first, and Europeans exploited that.

Dr. Pugh: Totally. That is often how it’s presented in the early stages, but what

enabled exploitation was also military force. And there were other forms of violence as

well, including disease, which we sometimes describe as biowarfare, such as smallpox

and other illnesses brought from Europe. Multiple kinds of violence contributed to

colonization.

V: This is all so intriguing and disturbing at the same time. For someone interested in

learning more about this topic, should they pursue anthropology?

Dr. Pugh: First, get a clear understanding of what anthropology is. A lot of

people confuse anthropology with archaeology and are disappointed when they realize

anthropology isn’t only about going on digs or being an “Indiana Jones.” Archaeology is

a subset of anthropology, but there are many branches: cultural and social

anthropology, medical anthropology, linguistic anthropology, archaeology, and forensic

anthropology.

So the first step is understanding the field—its subfields, methods, and areas of study. It

helps to ask what you’re curious about: a region, a community, a practice, or a method.

Anthropology often involves ethnography, spending a lot of time in a community, getting

to know people, learning language if relevant, interviewing, and living alongside people.

You should think about whether that kind of work appeals to you, versus other

approaches, like lab-based research. So, do your homework, understand the field and

its methods, and then see whether the schools you’re considering are a good fit. And if

you’re interested in something like forensic anthropology, look for programs that actually

have that focus, because not every school does.

V: Yeah—anthropology is so broad. I was first introduced to it by watching Bones with

my dad, but I don’t think I have the stomach for forensic anthropology.

Dr. Pugh: That’s completely valid. Watching shows and reading can be a good

introduction, even if it’s glamorized and fictionalized. It can help you learn enough to

decide what you’re interested in and what you’re not.

V: I’m interested in the impacts of climate change on ancient civilizations. You’re

teaching a course on climate colonialism this spring. Can you share more about the

connection between climate and colonialism?

Dr. Pugh: I’m thinking about two related things. One is how historical forms of

colonialism shaped the environmental conditions we see today. For example, in Haiti

there was mass deforestation and intensive plantation agriculture, over-harvesting to

the point that the country became far less productive in terms of natural resources,

because so much was stripped to supply resources to France. So, the question is how

did colonial agriculture and extraction undermine long-term ecological and agricultural

viability?

The second part is how contemporary forms of power can function in ways that

resemble colonialism, not necessarily one country formally conquering another, but

powerful people making decisions that subjugate those with less power, shaping

environmental outcomes.

For instance, consider why childhood asthma rates are significantly higher in the Bronx

compared to other parts of New York City. It’s tied to histories of segregation and

infrastructure decisions, like highways built through the Bronx, heavy traffic emissions,

and industrial siting that contributes to environmental contamination. These patterns

create conditions where poorer communities and often Black and Brown communities

bear disproportionate environmental burdens, which affects health outcomes.

V: There are so many dots that still need to be connected!

Dr. Pugh: Exactly. And you should ask me again after I teach the course. This is

my first time teaching it, so I’ll have more examples once I’ve developed it further.

V: For my last question, are you planning to write any additional books in the future?

Dr. Pugh: Yes, I have another project I’ve been working on, though I haven’t

made a lot of progress yet. It’s about the artist Fela Kuti. If you’re familiar with Afrobeat,

it originated in the 1960s and 1970s and has become popular again more recently. The

original Afrobeat was pioneered in Nigeria by Fela Kuti.

He was a singer and performer, but also an activist, very politically engaged, and he

frequently challenged the Nigerian government on corruption and what he saw as the

government depriving Nigerians of a quality of life. A lot of his activism came through his

music.

The book I’m considering would read Nigeria’s social and political history through Fela

Kuti’s work—not just his lyrics, but also his performances, activism, speeches,

interviews, and accounts from people who worked with him. It wouldn’t be a biography

so much as a way of analyzing broader postcolonial political and social struggles in

Nigeria at the time. But it will likely be a while before I’m able to write it.

V: That sounds really interesting. This has been a fascinating conversation. I learnt so

much. Thank you for your time, Dr. Pugh. Best of luck with your course this

spring, and with the book.