Editors’ Page: How to Stop Looting

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You can read lots of stories about looting—how terrible it is—but seldom do the stories end with any practical solutions. This one will be different.

The place is in Jordan, on the southeastern shore of the Dead Sea. One would hardly expect to find major archaeological remains at the lowest spot on earth (nearly 1,300 feet below sea level) in as inhospitable a climate as one is likely to encounter—blazingly hot, practically waterless and frighteningly isolated. Contrary to what you might suppose, however, the area was quite heavily populated in several historical periods. We know this primarily because when people died they were buried, sometimes in huge cemeteries. Because of the climate, the bodies are often extraordinarily well preserved; hair, skin and even internal organs have survived.

These burials are from Early Bronze Age I (c. 3300–3000 B.C.), the Middle Bronze Age (c. 2300–1550 B.C.), the Roman period (37 B.C.–324 A.D.), the Byzantine period (fourth to seventh centuries A.D.) and the medieval period. (Recently, some tombstones in this region have been purchased by the collector Shlomo Moussaieff; see “Ransomed for Posterity,” Field Notes) All together there are tens of thousands of graves. In addition to grave goods such as pottery and jewelry, some architecture where the dead once lived is still in the ground.

This area of Jordan has been subject to “ruthless and systematic pillaging.”¹ In one cemetery the archaeologists counted over 3,500 plundered tombs. At another site in the area, the “illicit excavations … were reaching alarming proportions.”² This occurred despite “the efforts of the [Jordanian] Department of Antiquities to protect [the sites] and a public awareness campaign about the looting.”³ The looted material has been described as “some of the most important archaeological finds in Jordan and the southern Levant.”⁴ “History [is] being destroyed.”⁵

For years much of this area was closed as a military zone, especially after the Six-Day War in 1967. Ironically, this provided protection to the archaeological sites. When it was finally opened up, an impoverished population began moving back. In the 1980s the Jordanian government awarded contracts to an Italian construction company to build a modern irrigation system so that the devastated agricultural fields could once again be planted. This involved digging large canals and laying miles of underground water pipes. As described by British Museum archaeologist Konstantinos Politis, “Inevitably the employees of [the Italian construction company] came across ancient remains and began collecting them. It was not long before the poverty-stricken inhabitants of the village of Safi realised that they too could make a living from selling the antiquities which lay below the very ground they walked upon. So men, women and children took to robbing the earth of its hidden treasures and selling them for anything they could get instead of farming it.”⁶

According to “reliable reports,”⁷ inscribed blocks, column capitals and decorated stones “can now be found in and around Milan.” 056Other reports tell of Byzantine tombstones inscribed in Greek and Aramaic that have been purchased in Milan. It appears that the Italian construction workers—or their bosses—brought home some souvenirs.

Several years ago, this entire situation created an international furor. The Jordanians sent out the army to close off the area. Journalists and even archaeologists went to the area. Strangely enough, everyone seemed to have some sympathy for the looters! At one point, the “destitute tomb-robbers seemed actually to be protected by the army who sympathised with their plight. Indeed, both journalists and archaeologists also had difficulty in condemning the villagers … for robbing ancient sites in a desperate effort to feed their families.”⁸

When the archaeologists wanted to learn as much as possible about the looted sites, they wisely talked to the looters, which of course makes perfectly good sense, but could well be frowned upon by some purists.

The only solution to the looting that has been suggested in the literature is “by educating and informing local governments, as well as the impoverished villagers, that caring for and developing archaeological sites for tourism can mean a much greater financial profit in the long term.” In this way, it is said, “Much of this problem could be alleviated.”⁹

Does anyone really believe this? Such an effort will be about as effective as vilifying collectors and trying to put antiquities dealers out of business. As a matter of fact, in Jordan there are no legal antiquities dealers. Buying and selling antiquities is illegal. Nevertheless, “Wealthy Jordanians and business people collect them quite openly. There is hardly a stylish home in Amman that doesn’t have some ancient pot or stone decorating it.”¹⁰ Some of the loot also finds its way to Jerusalem tourist shops where it fetches higher prices.

Yet there is an obvious solution to the looting problem in Jordan: Send in some archaeologists to employ and pay the looters. We are told that “the unemployed local population has, over the years, taught itself the skill of tomb-robbing.”¹¹ Why not employ them to do the same thing they are doing, but under the supervision of archaeologists?

The obvious answer is that there is no money for this. If the government cared enough, there would be. But there is another source of money that makes even more sense: Sell the antiquities that the Department of Antiquities has no need of. As to most of the recovered artifacts, it is not simply that they are not needed: Worse, they cannot be stored; there is no longer any space in government and museum stores to house and conserve them in a way that would make them available to scholars. It would be better to enter appropriate records into a computer, to photograph the objects and then to sell them, with the first choice going to public institutions.

What much of the public doesn’t realize is that there are thousands and thousands of duplicate ancient artifacts and that no public institution is in a position to collect, store and conserve them, let alone make them available to researchers. No knowledgeable person that I have spoken to will dispute this.

A paradox: Ancient artifacts dug up by professional archaeologists are in one sense worthless—they produce no money. Excavated artifacts simply go into government storerooms or museum basements, often getting stolen or lost and eventually ending up on the antiquities market. When looters dig up these same artifacts, they produce money. That’s why they can continue to dig. The only way to stop looting is somehow to enable archaeologists to do what the looters are doing. For this to happen, money must also be produced as a result of the work of the archaeologists. They too must be paid, and so must their workers. Funds must also be available to study the finds and write reports.

The ideal solution might be to leave these thousands of duplicate artifacts in the ground. But it is time to give up the perfect in favor of the good. Or, if you like, it is time to explore the least bad solution that would put an end to the looting.

Today these matters can be barely be discussed publicly. I can get support for these ideas in private conversations with all kinds of people—government officials, museum curators, collectors, directors of departments of antiquities, even archaeologists. But most of these people are cowed by the prevailing, supposedly high-moral stance of the official archaeological community against unprovenanced artifacts: You simply take your professional life in your hands by supporting ideas like those expressed here.

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The people whose reluctance is easiest to understand are directors of departments of antiquities. They are generally people of comparatively little governmental power, already budget-starved, who cannot afford to take a chance of being accused of selling their countries’ patrimony. I can understand their reticence. In their position, I would be reluctant, too.

Most collectors and dealers find it preferable to live in relative obscurity than to face the barrage of criticism from the archaeological establishment. Museum directors, too, know the cost of speaking out on this subject when they must depend on public support from a public largely inured to the establishment position.

The people who could really reverse this atmosphere are the archaeologists themselves. Even now they vote with their publications, so to speak; that is, they publish unprovenanced artifacts. Or rather, senior scholars with tenure do publish unprovenanced artifacts, whereas younger scholars are fearful that publishing an unprovenanced artifact might cost them tenure. I don’t blame them, either. I too would be as cautious if I were in their position.

The key is the archaeological community. If they really oppose looting, they should be willing to talk about practical ways to stop it. The first step is a scholarly conference that would allow all sides to be heard.

You can read lots of stories about looting—how terrible it is—but seldom do the stories end with any practical solutions. This one will be different. The place is in Jordan, on the southeastern shore of the Dead Sea. One would hardly expect to find major archaeological remains at the lowest spot on earth (nearly 1,300 feet below sea level) in as inhospitable a climate as one is likely to encounter—blazingly hot, practically waterless and frighteningly isolated. Contrary to what you might suppose, however, the area was quite heavily populated in several historical periods. We know this primarily because when […]