Showing posts with label Reich. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reich. Show all posts

25 February 2017

Talking points

by Marc Masurovsky

From 1933 to 1945, millions of cultural and artistic objects changed hands illegally as a result of Nazi persecutions. Many objects were recycled on the international art market while others were sent to the Reich. After the defeat of the Axis Powers, looted art objects were found in organized and improvised depots scattered across Europe but mostly concentrated in Central Europe. They also ended up in the hands of private individuals, businesses and government institutions, in vacant dwellings, the cellars of apartment buildings, in other words they could be found everywhere. Axis plunder turned the European continent into a veritable cave of Ali Baba.

Armed with a host of international declarations and commitments to return, recover, and restitute looted objects, the victorious Allies worked hard to locate these objects so that their rightful owners could enjoy their possession once again.

Those were heady days indeed, they did not last long. The wear and tear of administering these restitution programs frayed the nerves of Allied military authorities and their civilian counterparts busy with the task of propping up and rebuilding the defeated Axis powers as the incipient Cold War settled in like a bad case of the flu. Yesterday’s ally, the Soviet Union, became the new old adversary.

So, why did restitution fail most victims of Axis persecution?

-Short filing deadlines to submit claims to governments;
-Shock and trauma from years of confinement and persecution;
-Inability to come up with documentation as a result of expropriations, evictions and physical destruction of their property;
-Lack of interest shown by officials involved in the location and recovery of looted cultural assets.

How does that work?


Personnel responsible for the recovery of looted cultural objects, were mostly drawn from cultural bureaucracies, museums, and art historical circles. They carefully examined the claims filed by victims or their next of kin, and decided which items were worth looking for and which ones not. In many cases, claimants were told that their collections did not contain objects that were culturally significant and did not contribute to the cultural heritage of the nation. Why? Because most liberated nations wanted to replenish their cultural heritage or patrimoine which, they argued, had been impoverished as a result of Axis policies.

The quality of the object became the most significant deciding factor as to whether recovery officials would invest their resources to locate it and effect its return to the claimant. Cultural significance played a key role in assessing claims. We can only infer that the art collected by most Jewish owners was culturally insignificant and did not contribute to the cultural heritage of the nations in which they lived.

Objects favored for recovery came from the Western canon of Classical culture, which most if not all cultural advisors to Allied forces responsible for locating these objects had internalized prior to their tour of duty in Europe. Their esthetic biases led them to favor objects viewed as “masterpieces”, “treasures”, “culturally significant”, objects whose absence impoverished the cultural heritage of formerly occupied nations. Who owned those objects? Members of the elite, the upper strata of society, the 1 percent. Restitution rates were much higher amongst the 1 per cent than the 99 per cent who more often than not were forced to seek compensation in lieu of restitution.

No systematic audit of cultural losses was performed in the years following the end of the war, something that was deplored by a number of our famous “Monuments Men” who moaned about the continued absence of a central list of cultural losses from which they could do their work and be more efficient. Formerly occupied nations did publish lists of looted objects based on claims that they processed, but again, when you compare the claims to the listed objects, the “registries” reflect a small percentage of the actual losses suffered by the victims. Hence, they are grossly incomplete.

How does that affect the claims process? 

The answer is obvious.

We are here today because of the built-in prejudices that shaped the postwar policies of recovery of looted cultural objects. The justice that eluded most of the victims of cultural thefts lay in the hands of art historians, museum officials, and civil servants who imposed an elitist conception of culture on the recovery politics of the postwar era.

5 countries have standing commissions dealing with art claims. The international community came together twice once in 1998 and again in 2009 to address among other things issues of cultural losses, in vain. On both occasions, public policy failed the claimants since the 49 countries that signed on to the Washington Principles and again to the Terezin Declaration failed to put into place adequate legal mechanisms that would assist the victims of cultural plunder. This absence of State support for dispensing with a modicum of justice to victims of cultural plunders produced a political and ethical abyss into which the private sector injected itself and countless lawyers were only too eager to represent those who had been denied justice…. For a fee. The failure of the international community to address the problem of cultural restitution produced the business of restitution, the commercialization of claims, and the search for profits through the recovery of looted art. Not just any looted art. Focus was placed again on high end items, so-called treasures and masterpieces where the margins were impressive if recovery was successful. There has been an unusual concentration of restitutions centered on art objects seized in Austria after 1938 which produced half a billion dollars’ worth of revenue in the last decade and, yes, the recovery of ‘masterpieces’ from the Austrian secession. The same emphasis again on ‘masterpieces.’ Can you imagine what provenance research would look like with even 1 per cent of that amount?

How many works by lesser known artists and craftsmen are making their way through auction houses, galleries, even hanging in museums, without our knowledge? Here ignorance is bliss. The less we know, the better off we are. There are no incentives for the private sector to become transparent about the objects that it brokers. Opacity continues to reign supreme even if small successes have been recorded in several leading auction houses and a nexus of galleries and museums.

How do we achieve justice?

There are those who argue that enough is enough, let’s end these claims. Get over it, move on. Enjoy art for what it is.

On the other side of the spectrum, people such as myself who enjoy art, consider genocide and the plunder that comes with it to be an abomination that make a Bosch painting look like a tea party. We want to make sure that justice is served even if it takes us another two or three generations to achieve it.

Is that realistic? I don’t know.

Is that reasonable? I don’t know.

Genocide does not take into account what is realistic and what is reasonable. It is a total extinction event that knows no borders, no boundaries, that feeds on blood and property.

And yet, there won’t be any survivors of the Holocaust left in the next ten years. Only their heirs, and their heirs’ children and grand children, and distant relatives far removed from the crime, who clamor for restitution. Should they?

Should restitution be viewed as an inalienable right? 
Part of me thinks so, part of me hesitates. Why?

One of the single tragedies of the restitution movement is the inability of institutions to mobilize their resources to educate the public about the crime of cultural plunder and its impact on society, the traumatic nature of the loss of the coveted, cherished possession. 

Art is about being human. 

Art is an extension of our souls, isn’t it? 

To remove it by force is to rend our spirit, to deprive us of something essential.

Some call it identity.

Research into the origins of art objects is a way of restoring to the object a life, a geist, a history, a story to share with all. Without provenance research, we are poor. The public and private sectors must mobilize the needed resources nationally and internationally to enhance research on objects in collections, make research results available to all. Museums should enshrine provenance research, due diligence practices into their daily rituals, free from the strictures imposed by their legal departments who live in fear of the dreaded claimant. Yes, provenance research should be as automatic as having breakfast in the morning.

Justice comes from being fair to all. True, we can’t ascribe blame all of the time to the current possessors. But neither can they hide behind their presumptive good faith. In theory, we are intelligent creatures and should be able to ask questions about the history of objects that we buy, borrow, display. Where contention develops over the ownership of a looted item, new mechanisms should be put into place on an international level that provide an impartial forum to the victims’ heirs and to the current possessors. These mechanisms should be linked to a systematic research effort into the histories of the objects. Such an institution should be impartial and answer to the highest standards of ethical and professional conduct. Dialogue amongst nations, institutions, and individuals, in my mind, is the only way to pave the way to a proper settlement of restitution claims anchored in a desire for justice.

The international community should elevate the crime of plunder to a crime against humanity at the same time as it reinforces the cultural rights of all peoples, especially indigenous peoples. Doing the former without the latter is absurd and hypocritical. How can you talk about plunder when you don’t discuss the fundamental cultural rights of people?

Failing the above, we are doomed to decades of bitter litigation and implementing every legal and political recourse possible, including outright seizures and confiscations of objects in order to bend the will of administrations into effecting the safe return of looted objects. Governments should stop invoking arcane, obsolete, arrogant, elitist notions of culture and patrimony to deny justice to the victims of cultural plunder, regardless of who you are and where you live, and which country you hail from. Nationalistic, chauvinistic approaches to cultural patrimony help no one except the bureaucrats who refuse to acknowledge that culture belongs to everyone and not just to the select few.

Thank you.

























18 January 2014

Where were you...?


Drancy Concentration Camp
Source: Wikipedia via Ghetto Fighters' House

Where were you when the trains left Drancy?  How do 45 trains carrying altogether more than 40,000 children, women, and men of all ages, classes, occupations, convictions, dispositions, and origins, leave the station in the northern suburbs of Paris without notice over the course of ten months in the year of 1942?  Sometimes one train left every day packed with more than 1000 people, 1000 future dead bodies.  A daily event.  The routine of death warmed over.  Where were you?  Did anyone notice?  If so, what did he do? What did she do?  What was going on that day when the train left the station?  What were people doing while Germans and Frenchmen were busy assisting nearly 1000 people into cattle cars, bound for “the east”—destination unknown?  What was going on in the world at that very moment? What happened that the names of these men, women, and children were inscribed on the scroll of death?  What were Parisians thinking at the time?  Where were they?  What did America do?  What were Americans doing in Paris? Watching the trains go by? Waving perhaps?  Another cattle train.  My, there is a lot of activity on those tracks.  What were Americans thinking when 12,000 Jews were rounded up in Paris on the 16th and 17th of July?  Were they even friends with those Jews?  The foreign Jews, that is, the ones that the French Jews didn’t really like.  The party spoilers.  Who among the Americans was strong enough to understand what was taking place in Paris at the time?  Was it even possible to understand what was taking place in Paris at the time?  Could one be a witness? An eyewitness? And if so, what was one to do? Except watch? Try not to think? Bury the head in the sand? Shrug the moment off as a bad dream, something inevitable. Blame fate. Blame the Jews, they brought in on themselves, blame the French, they’re such anti-Semites.  Why are you friends with them in that case? Yes,  you, Florence Gould. You, the managers of the Chase Bank, of the Morgan Bank, of the other banks, of the companies, and the galleries, and the businesses, you, the tourists, the writers, painters, sculptors, you the inventors, the secretaries, the students.  What were you doing on the day that they took these children away, and their mothers and their fathers and grandparents and uncles and aunts, their classmates, their teachers, their nurses, their bakers and tailors, and butchers?

What were you doing? I don’t know.  I can’t recall.  I can’t remember.  My mind is drawing a blank.  That’s strange.  It was.. was it a beautiful day? Was the sun shining? Was it hot and steamy or hot and dry?  I simply do not remember.  Where was I? did I have breakfast? Did I go to work? Did I read the newspaper?  What was I doing? What was I thinking? Was I with anyone? I don’t remember.  You say a train left Drancy and went east.  East to where? Nancy? Meaux? Where was it going? You say it rode through Paris?  Did I hear the rumble of the packed cattle cars on the tracks along the Seine and across the river? Did the train cross the river? Was that just my imagination?  Honey, do you know what this gentleman is talking about?  I frankly can’t remember anything.  How droll!

The apartments.  Did they take the apartments before they left or after they left? When did they meet with their lawyers?  What paintings did they prefer, place settings, rugs, furniture? Did they like the room with the view?  Did they buy the buildings after the owners fled or did they not hesitate to humiliate them into selling for less than their worth or their hide?

Do deportation trains whistle in the dark?  Or do they slumber along on the tracks sounding a somber cadence that puts me to sleep as I stare out the windows of my berth watching the cypresses in the distance serrating the crests of hills like bread knives, fields of wheat in the foreground announcing a bounty of a crop not for everyone, though.  I stare out the window, dreaming of a forlorn past, wishing that today had never happened.  Yes, today marks the anniversary, the numberless anniversary of the day that the train left for the east with more than one thousand children, women, and men.  I look for their ghosts in the midst of the white wisps of clouds high above the train that takes me to the mountains, to my seasonal enjoyment on the slopes of the Marmolada above Bergamo and below the Austrian frontier and the Tyrols, last holdouts of Nazi butchers, frosty escape routes for fleeing fugitives carrying inside their jackets a lifetime insurance of protection against capture, prosecution, imprisonment, and execution.  What sweet sinecure awaits these husky SD and SS operatives, these AMT sixers and AMT fours and AMT threes, these fake stalwarts, radio operators, smugglers, two-bit murderers and thieves, men who do not hesitate to dangle impaled babies on their bayonets outside Jewish cemeteries in the Ukraine.  Brave men of the reich, the crumbling reich, and here I am watching from a distance whence they came like cowards stealing through the starry nights the milky way’s hundred million stars oblivious to the agonies and shrieks that dotted the landscape of Europe for ten long, terrible, mind-bending, suffocating, inhuman, beastly years, thirty thousand days and nights of suffering.  How can anyone possibly survive these calamities brought upon by our fellow man, my dear fellow who sits across from me, dressed in green tweed, maroon corduroy, an academic no doubt, let’s see his shoes, earth shoes? What year is this anyway?