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Ethnographic collecting, colonialism, and exchange

Pieter ter Keurs

Résumés

La collecte d’objets ethnographique a une longue histoire. À partir des cabinets de curiosités des xvie et xviie siècles, elle s’est de plus en plus institutionnalisée. Les musées ethnographiques actuels sont cependant confrontés à des défis différents, principalement liés à un passé controversé. Cet article soutient que ce passé controversé, marqué par le colonialisme et la violence, n’est qu’une partie de l’histoire. Les collections ethnographiques pourraient également être interprétées en termes d’échanges, ce qui offre une vision plus nuancée de la constitution de ces collections et de leur utilisation actuelle.

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1Collecting ethnographic objects is as old as humanity. The moment people enter into contact with others, who are seen as strangers and who often live far away, there is an exchange of objects. Particularly when there is a language barrier, object exchange is a good means of avoiding violence and showing one’s good intentions. In the various histories of ethnographic collecting, many other aspects of collecting have been stressed. In the past, strong emphasis was laid on things as objects of wonder, as means to obtain knowledge and as expressions of colonial submission. Nowadays, it is seen as politically correct to concentrate on the colonial context of collecting. Other aspects of human-object entanglement have often been ignored or seen as devoid of any sense of reality.

  • 1 For example, T. Bennett (ed.), Collecting, Ordering, Governing. Anthropology, Museums, and Liberal (...)

2The literature about ethnographic collecting is vast and diverse.1 It is not my intention to summarize or criticize this large body of publications. Here, I will focus on ethnographic collecting as exchange, an issue that encompasses as well as overpasses the subject of colonial collecting and its ethical dimensions. It also allows us to address ethnographic collecting in more generalized terms and therefore opens up opportunities for more profound ways of analyzing and comprehending. I will, however, start with a brief history of ethnographic collecting, a subject that has attracted much scholarly attention and many critical reviews since the 1990s.

Sources of wonder and knowledge

3Collections of objects are tangible entities. Collections can be touched and thus allow us to feel a proximity that cannot be obtained merely by reading written sources. Objects are not only illustrations; they are sources of wonder and knowledge as well. The physical nearness of objects, of their materiality, has always attracted people. Museums are clear examples of the wish to see the material remains of an ancient culture or a “strange” culture, one historically distant from us, the other geographically far away. A visitor is usually not allowed to touch the object, but with only the glass of the showcase between the object and the subject, a museum creates a situation that is experienced as being “as close as you can get”. Ethnographic collections served this purpose in times when travel was not yet as common as nowadays.

4In European history, Cabinets of Rarities are often seen as precursors of ethnographic museums. In the 16th and 17th centuries, the element of wonder seems to be crucial here. Eyewitness accounts from visitors stress this way of appreciating the collections, but wonder was not the only incentive for collecting the rarities. Some owners of such cabinets are clearly also interested in using the collections as sources of knowledge in their attempts to understand the strange, largely unknown, world outside their own familiar environment. This important element of our interest in ethnographic collections has survived the many societal changes over the centuries, although at present it has sometimes become less visible due to the urge to decolonize and to diversify. I will address this issue in greater detail later in this contribution.

  • 2 P. Mauriès, Cabinets of Curiosities, London, Thames and Hudson Ltd, 2002, p. 17-19.

5A well-known early Cabinet of Rarities is the one created by Ferrante Imperato in Naples. He published a catalogue of his collection (Dell’historia naturale, 1599), which gives us a good impression of the predominance of natural history objects in his cabinet. This also seems to have been the case in other early examples of collections, but it is possible that ethnographic objects may also have been overlooked. It has been observed that the collection of Ole Worm (Museum Wormianum, 1655) consisted only of naturalia,2 but on the engraving published in Worm’s catalogue other types of objects can clearly be identified, such as paddles and spears.

Figure 1: The Cabinet of Rarities of Ole Worm, 1655.

  • 3 S. Quiccheberg, The First Treatise on Museums. Samuel Quiccheberg’s Inscriptions [1565], translatio (...)
  • 4 L. Kooijmans, Frederik Ruysch. Op het snijvlak van kunst en wetenschap, Amsterdam, Uitgeverij Lias, (...)
  • 5 J. J. Driessen-Van het Reve, De Kunstkamera van Peter de Grote. De Hollandse inbreng, gereconstruee (...)

6Other collectors, such as Samuel Quiccheberg, had a strong interest in technical – and, for their time, modern – developments.3 The Dutch collector Frederik Ruysch (1638-1731) concentrated on human anatomy in his cabinet.4 Tsar Peter the Great was so impressed by Ruysch’s collection that he then bought it for his Kunstkamera in St Petersburg,5 as he had already done with the collection of the Amsterdam pharmacist Albertus Seba (1665-1736). Seba obtained his large collection mainly by treating ailing sailors who returned from their voyages to Southeast Asia which were part of the trade activities of the Dutch East Indies Company (VOC). Seba was often paid with souvenirs taken from the east, both naturalia and rare, strange objects. His collection was famous at the time.

7It should be noted that the objects that reached the early European collections, mainly through Portuguese or Dutch trade activities, were often adapted to satisfy the market for rare objects. Objects were hybridized before they reached their final destination. Some early ivory statues from Central Africa, carved in a local style, are in fact salt containers intended for use by Europeans. Africans did not use salt containers, so these objects were especially made for the external market. There was a lively trade in this type of objects, brought to Europe by Portuguese traders and given to the King of Spain, the Habsburg courts in Vienna and Prague (Rudolf II) or sold at auctions in Amsterdam. The hybrid nature of the object was usually added to the original before it reached its final destination. Thus, Chinese paintings in European style were made in Shanghai, gold or silver decorations were added to nautilus shells in Macao or Hongkong. These hybrid objects are therefore not a good representation of the cultures they originated from. They are an illustration of the contact of Europeans with other cultures. We may wonder whether this can be identified in all ethnographic collections. I will address this issue again below.

8As mentioned, ethnographic collections were often part and parcel of the drive to collect in the 16th and 17th century. Unfortunately, most of these collections did not end up in a museum, since there were at that time no modern museums; many of them were dispersed after the original collector died.

Explorations

  • 6 J. Delbourgo, Collecting the World. The Life and Curiosity of Hans Sloane, London, Allen Lane, 2017
  • 7 I. Jenkins and K. Sloan, Vases and Volcanoes: Sir William Hamilton and His Collection, London, Brit (...)

9Some collections, or parts of them, were, however, destined to become part of a museum collection. Notable examples are that of Sir Hans Sloane,6 which became the founding collection of the British Museum and that of Sir William Hamilton,7 which partly arrived in London, although some of it was lost in a shipwreck. Sloane’s collection is a good example of the variety of objects that could be gathered. He was interested in natural history, antiquities, ethnography, pictures and drawings, seals, medals, coins, etc. The inventory made after his death shows that he had very broad interests. Among the ethnographic objects he owned are musical instruments belonging to enslaved people, although this counted as a contested collecting activity. Encouraging music and singing among slaves was seen as potentially dangerous since it could create a solidarity that endangered the white slave masters.

  • 8 B. Douglas, F. Wonu Veijs, B. Lythberg (ed.), Collecting in the South Sea. The Voyage of Bruni d’En (...)

10Both Sloane as well as Hamilton lived and collected abroad, Sloane in Jamaica and Hamilton in Naples. In the 18th century traveling became easier and faster and this period is often considered to be a great age of exploration, with well-known explorers such as James Cook (1728-1779) and Louis Antoine de Bougainville (1729-1811). The collections brought from places far away were often dispersed across several European countries, so they could be seen all over Europe and probably had a great impact on European views of “the other”. As an example of the spread of such collections, I mention the voyage of Bruni d’Entrecasteaux in 1791-1794 to Australia and the southwest Pacific. The objects collected during this journey can now be seen in Paris, Dunkirk, Bergen, Oslo, Leiden, Amsterdam, Middelburg, Cambridge MA, Lausanne, and probably more locations.8

11The objects also had a great effect on scholarly work. Although the documentation accompanying the objects was of limited value, the increasing flow of foreign objects into Europe demanded that scholars adopt a more systematic approach. The historian James Sheehan speaks of the 18th and 19th century as the epoch of classifications:

  • 9 J. Sheehan, “Culture”, in T.C.W. Blanning (ed.), The Nineteenth Century. Europe 1789-1914, Oxford, (...)

“Like the 18th century, the 19th was an age of collections, encyclopedias, and dictionaries, which sought to bring together and classify knowledge of all sorts… Museum directors wanted to display a representative work by every great artist, zookeepers hoped to have every animal no matter how exotic, botanists every plant.”9

12This urge to be complete and to classify had a great influence on European expansion in the 19th century and on the way Europeans saw and still see “the other”. Sometimes the categories created within the classifications, particularly in the humanities, distorted ethnographic reality. Stylistic analysis was often employed as the major research methodology, since the ethnographic information was limited and often unreliable; as a result, tribal groups were identified that did not actually exist. This became so influential and was so generally accepted, that these categories were even finally used by the local people themselves as well. Cultural names such as Dogon (Mali) or Minangkabau (Sumatra) are constructions produced by western scholars, not by the local people.

  • 10 M. Jasanoff, Edge of Empire. Conquest and Collecting in the East 1750-1850, London, Harper Perennia (...)

13Maya Jasanoff offered an intriguing account of two collectors in India, which during the 18th century was still an arena of competition between England and France.10 Born in Lyon, France in 1735, Claude Martin joined the Compagnie des Indes Orientales at the age of 16 to serve in the French army. Martin came from a lower middle-class background and a period of service in the “East” was seen as a chance to become richer, or at least to have more opportunities than would have been possible in Old Regime France. Martin made a career in the army but was confronted with a major problem around 1760. The French were losing the battle for power in South Asia. The British East India Company gained the upper hand, and the French army was in a depleted state, inciting many soldiers to desert. Martin decided to follow the deserters and rode away from the French camp to report to the British troops. Remarkably enough, even as a Frenchman he was soon accepted into the British-run Bengal army. Apparently, they saw no problem in accepting enemies who had escaped into their ranks. Claude Martin would subsequently rise to the rank of major general.

14In 1776, Martin accepted an appointment as Superintendent of the Arsenal under Asaf-ud-Daula, the ruler (Nawab) of the principality of Awadh, and moved to Lucknow, the bustling capital of this principality in northern India. He received only half his former salary from the East India Company, but he managed to earn some extra money by trading in whatever was profitable and by maintaining good relations with the ruler. He had already begun collecting before his arrival in Lucknow, and now his passion for collecting was given a considerable boost. He was close to the ruler, who was also a great collector, and he built up a network of like-minded Europeans in Lucknow, and of agents who searched here and there for interesting pieces for Martin. His collection grew to be one of the largest and most important in India. Decorated manuscripts, miniature paintings, medallions, coins, marble busts, mirrors, clocks, candlesticks and naturalia, everything was welcome in Martin’s collection. He not only collected oriental things, as did many of his friends but also got his hands on all sorts of European things that he came across. At his death, an inventory extending to some eighty pages was drawn up.

  • 11 R. Llewellyn Jones, A very ingenious man: Claude Martin in Early Colonial India, New Delhi, Oxford (...)

15Martin was criticized by fellow officers. There are reports that he stole manuscripts from temples and that his agents “ransacked the remotest tracts of Cashmere, Nepaul, Candahar, and other regions”.11 Apparently, he did not worry about ethical questions relating to collecting.

16One of Claude Martin’s best friends was Antoine Polier (1741-1795). He too had settled in Lucknow, after military service with the East India Company. Polier, who was a military engineer, became frustrated in the army since as a Swiss citizen (born in Lausanne) he could not advance beyond the rank of major. Entering a local ruler’s service could offer more career perspectives, because an engineer’s technical knowledge was interesting to the local élite. Many of the rulers saw that Western technology led to a dominant position for Europeans and they were eager to acquire the same knowledge in an attempt to modernize their kingdom or sultanate. They usually offered a higher salary than the East India Company. Polier also emerged as an important collector. He was well informed about the local culture and learned, among other things, Hindi, Persian and Urdu. In his collecting activities he concentrated on manuscripts that he bought from fellow collectors, via agents and on the market. The Lucknow bazaar was a lively place for trade in products from all over the world. Elaborately decorated manuscripts were to be found for sale simply at the market.

17There are several Indian miniatures depicting Polier. He was able to manoeuvre well in both the Indian, local cultures and the European colonial community. Polier therefore had at least two identities, the European and the Indian. Depending on the occasion, he appeared in European or local clothing. He had mastered very well the cultural hybridity of Lucknow.

Figure 2: Painting by Johann Zoffany, 1786. The third person on the left is Antoine Polier. Claude Martin is the third person on the right.

© Collection Victoria Museum, Calcutta/Kolkata

18In 1788, Antoine Polier decided to return to Europe. He left his two local wives and two of his three children behind in Lucknow. Claude Martin would henceforth take care of them. Polier returned to a Europe torn by revolution, but he was determined to enjoy his wealth. Although he came from Lausanne, for unknown reasons he bought an estate near Avignon. There he led a somewhat exuberant life with his new wife and a son. In revolutionary France, which was plagued by violence and terror, he ran great risks. In February 1795 he was attacked and murdered by a roving gang. His house was plundered. Only a few parts of his collection have been preserved. The Museum für Islamische Kunst in Berlin has a number of miniatures collected by him.

19The news of Polier’s death made Claude Martin decide to stay in India for good. However, little of his enormous wealth would survive the ravages of time. When he died in 1800, his collection was auctioned and divided among many private bidders. His most important tangible legacy is the gigantic palace or mausoleum that he had built and would not be finished until two years after his death: Constantia. Martin would be buried there, in a specially designed grave under the large entrance hall. The building now houses a school.

Expressions of colonial submission

  • 12 T. Blanning and H. Schulze (ed.), Unity and Diversity in European Culture c. 1800, London, British (...)

20As we saw in the examples of Martin and Polier the collections obtained were seen as private property, even if they had been acquired at least in part during the time that they were employed as officers in French and English East Indies armies. Around 1800 this starts to change. The historians Tim Blanning and Hagen Schulze summarize this period as a “transition from the cosmopolitan culture of the Enlightenment to the self-consciously national cultures of the nineteenth century…”12

21The French Revolution saw a pioneering initiative by the painter Alexandre Lenoir (1761-1839) to protect heritage that was threatened by revolutionary violence, resulting in the Musée des Monuments français. Here, it was the state authorities who took responsibility for collection care, not a king or other rich collectors. Over the course of the 19th century the nation state increasingly took the initiative in everything that was related to heritage and identity politics, since these were seen as a stabilizing and unifying means to strengthen the newly formed nations after the Napoleonic era. Collecting ethnographic objects was also seen as an important activity for the benefit of the state, in order to showcase new markets and the glory of the empire.

  • 13 T. Bennett, The Birth of the Public Museum. History, Theory, Politics, Oxon and New York, Routledge (...)

22Before 1800 some ethnographic collections, such as those in London, Dresden, Vienna, Copenhagen, were open to the public, often with limited opening hours or with all kinds of obstacles put in the path of those who wanted to get permission to enter, but during the 19th century many ethnographic museums were founded and accessible for visitors. This is in line with what Tony Bennett saw as the birth of the public museum, particularly in the 19th century.13 The rise of the nation state, the establishment of new ethnographic museums in many European countries and the intensification of colonialism are often seen as interrelated phenomena. This may be true, but the relationship between the three developments is more complex than usually admitted. I will mention three specific issues that illustrate the complexity of the growing influence of the state on museum policies and its consequences for collecting and display.

  • 14 J. Godfried Herder, Ideen zur Philosophie zur Bildung der Menschheid [1784-1791], Wiesbaden, Fourie (...)
  • 15 R. Young, Colonial Desire. Hybridity in Theory, Culture and Race, Oxon and New York, Routledge, 199 (...)

23The early ethnographic museums, such as Leiden, Copenhagen, St. Petersburg, demonstrate a clear influence of 18th century rationalist humanism and ideas about universal history, and these ideas remained dominant through the first half of the 19th century. Founding statements and policy papers express a certain idealism and curiosity in humanity as a whole. At the same time, the cultural differences between people and cultures were considered to be an interesting field of study, not as a reason to oppress other people. In the Romantic period of the early 19th century, there was a strong interest in the “curiosities” of other people, for instance farmers who lived in the countryside and had a different value system and economic and social environment, compared to the people who live in towns. Farmers as well deserved to be treated as equal, not as inferior.14 It was only later in the 19th century that colonialism, combined with racism and strong feelings concerning the superiority of the European “race”, became dominant.15

  • 16 E. Hardiati and P. ter Keurs (eds.), The Discovery of the Past, Amsterdam, KIT Publishers, 2005; P. (...)

24Secondly, we can observe that the great influx of objects from non-European areas took place in the second half of the century, until some time around the 1920s. This indeed coincides with the main colonial wars in Africa and Asia, but it does not mean that every object was taken forcibly. Scientific expeditions were much more successful at the end of the century than at the beginning, because of improvements in medical care. In addition, colonial civil servants were better trained, had more language skills and could develop better relations with woodcarvers, weavers, basket makers, etc. Many objects obtained in the second half of the 19th century were newly made. The number of culturally important objects is much smaller than the total amount of objects brought into Europe would suggest.16

25And finally, the influence of national or provincial authorities on the collecting and presentation policies of museums often proved to be limited. In France, during the reign of Napoleon III (1852-1870) a dominant, hierarchical heritage policy was imposed, resulting in spectacular collecting activities as well as in the complete reconstruction of Paris. In many other countries, however, the situation was quite different. In the Netherlands there were hardly any investments in museums in the period 1830-1870. This was due to the independence of Belgium in 1830 (which was the industrialized part of the kingdom, with the northern Netherlands being mainly agricultural land), enduring economic crises and liberal governments without any interest in culture. During this period, the Dutch government hardly intervened in museum policies since it just did not interest them. In many German principalities there was also hardly any money available for museums and heritage in general. This situation would only change after German unification in the 1870s.

26World Exhibitions, in vogue since the Universal Exhibition of 1851 in London’s Crystal Palace, were large-scale and important expressions of both national identities as well as imperialist and colonial aspirations. These large, mostly open-air exhibitions attracted many more visitors than did the newly founded ethnographic museums. The Crystal Palace exhibition welcomed 7 million visitors and was the start of modern cultural tourism. The museums could not compete with such spectacular visitor figures.

  • 17 A. Geppert, Fleeting Cities. Imperial Expositions in Fin-de-Siècle Europe, New York, Palgrave Macmi (...)

27Ethnographic displays were always a feature of the World Exhibitions. The glory of the Empire was shown, and new markets were presented. The Berliner Gewerbeausstellung (1896) was clearly designed to showcase the new German empire, including the overseas regions in Africa and New Guinea. Apart from ethnographic displays, for example in Amsterdam (1883) where living Indonesian people featured, the large exhibitions always included a part that was dedicated to a country’s own past and, most important, a large section on technical innovations and industry, pointing towards a glorious future.17 Many objects at World Exhibitions were newly made, such as house and boat models which are now abundantly present in the collections of ethnographic museums. The items on show were often especially made for the exhibition. It is usually not known what the producers of these artefacts received in exchange for their work.

28Undoubtedly, the context for colonial collecting that is the most disputed is war, violence, and coercion. Although there was never, to my knowledge, a colonial military expedition organized with the explicit aim of obtaining ethnographic objects – museums do keep many objects that were acquired as a result of colonial conflict. Often, the treasures found during these conflicts were unexpected, and discussions followed on what exactly should be done with them. Some objects were taken by officers as personal booty, others were immediately traded as a way of making a quick financial profit and many were confiscated by the state. Well-known examples of such seizures occurred during the conquest of Benin in 1897 and the violent interventions on the Indonesian islands Lombok (1894) and Bali (1906-1908). In recent restitution debates colonial wars are in fact the easiest cases. When objects have clearly been looted, taken by force, the return of these objects to the country of origin is usually granted. The ethical considerations are clear in such cases and nowadays most people agree with the decision to return these objects. However, even this category of collecting during colonial wars has its complications. Usually, the looted objects are restituted to the nation state, for example Nigeria or Indonesia; but where does this leave the descendants of the original owners? In Nigeria it is now accepted that Benin bronzes looted by the British in 1897 should be returned to the Oba (king) of the old Benin kingdom. In Indonesia, the Lombok treasure is on display in the National Museum in Jakarta, not in Lombok. And Balinese objects taken in the war of 1906-1908 that have recently been returned also remain in the National Museum, until now at least.

Figure 3: Amidst looted objects from the palace of the Oba of Benin, 1897.

  • 18 D. Miller, Material Culture and Mass Consumption, Cambridge, Basil Blackwell, 1987; V. Buchli (ed.) (...)

29Despite the contested origin of some collections, ethnographic objects contributed enormously to our “western” knowledge about other cultures. During the second half of the 19th century and the first half of the 20th century cultural anthropology developed mainly by means of studies of these collections. In the 1960s and 1970s, object studies were largely marginalized, since social and political issues became increasingly important. In the 1980s and 1990s, however, a “material turn” took place in anthropology and archaeology, later followed by at least some areas of art history.18

Expressions of exchange

  • 19 M. Mauss, « Essai sur le don. Forme et raison de l’échange dans les sociétés primitives », L’Année (...)
  • 20 B. Malinowksi, Argonauts of the Western Pacific. An Account of Native Enterprise and Adventure in t (...)

30To assess the present position of ethnographic collections and museums we need to consider the complex and partly contested history of these museums. As mentioned above, the history of ethnographic collecting and ethnographic museums is only partly about colonialism. It is also about curiosity and exploring, about trying to understand “the other”, and the main instrument for this is exchange between people and between objects and people. Marcel Mauss made it clear in his seminal Essai sur le don (1923-1924) that a gift obliges the receiver to give a return gift, because an exchange of objects is not just a material exchange.19 It is much more than that. It is a token of friendship, an invitation to deepen a relationship, and it implies that a part of one’s personality is at your disposal. It was the Polish anthropologist Bronislaw Malinowski who showed for the first time how objects function in trade networks and how they obtain added value by changing ownership.20

Figure 4: Trading wooden bowls, used during rituals to distribute food and as bride price payments, from the Siassi islands, Papua New Guinea.

© Photo: Pieter ter Keurs, December 1983

  • 21 J. Hoskins, Biographical Objects. How Things Tell the Stories of People’s Lives. New York and Londo (...)
  • 22 J. Platenkamp, “Cultural Appropriation. A Social-Anthropological Critique” in R. Hardenberg, J. Pla (...)

31Since the 1990s, particularly in anthropology, it has often been stressed that people and objects interact and that someone’s personality, one’s self, is shaped by this interaction.21 Therefore, exchange implies building and maintaining a relationship between (groups of) persons. This entanglement of people and things may be crucial for our understanding of collecting, since in the history of ethnographic collecting the person-thing entanglement has always been at the core of contact, exchange and understanding as well as misunderstanding. The collections of Cook and d’Entrecasteaux are foremost expressions of curiosity and of the wish to have contact with “the other”. And this was probably mutual. There are many examples of early, respectful contacts with and even appropriation of European customs and behaviour by the local population. On the Moluccan Islands, for example, the first Portuguese sailors were received with curiosity and immediately an exchange of objects was set up to illustrate the good will felt by both parties.22 Sometimes, the newcomers were seen as ancestors, coming back from the “world beyond” bearing the promise of an affluent future.

  • 23 S. Müller, Reizen en onderzoekingen in den Indischen archipel, gedaan op last van de Nederlandsch I (...)
  • 24 P. ter Keurs, “Theory and Practice of Colonial Collection”, in Pieter ter Keurs (ed.), Colonial Col (...)

32During the first Dutch scientific expeditions to the Lesser Sunda Islands (now Nusa Tenggara) East of Java, 1828-1836, similar situations occurred. The wish to exchange objects resulted in ethnographic collections now held in the museums of Jakarta and Leiden.23 The interesting thing, however, is that most of the artefacts collected were newly made. When the expedition approached an island, the local people were usually already informed about the arrival of the Dutch ship. The local trade network included a well-developed communication system. So, the people were prepared and had the time to make new objects that could then be sold to the expedition members. Studying the collections in Jakarta and Leiden, one can observe that most of the items collected during these expeditions have never been used. These articles were alienable, made to be traded and to establish contact; but the inalienable objects of ritual importance were not shown to the expedition members. This shows that the agency of the local people was much more active than we, western researchers, were willing to admit. The collecting activities were often not a one-way expression of power and prestige by European collectors. The local population, producers and/or owners of the desired objects, were often very active in determining what was offered in exchange for the goods brought by the westerners that they desired to acquire.24

Figure 5: A newly made coconut spoon, collected by Salomon Müller during expeditions to Nusa Tenggara, East Indonesia, 1828-1836.

33This is by no means an attempt to justify all forms of colonial collecting. Unfortunately, there were many situations in which the asymmetrical power relations between the one who owns an object and the one who desires it were to be the major determinant of the exchange; however, more equal, symmetrical exchanges in ethnographic collecting have been neglected in most recent discussions of colonialism in ethnographic museums. Over the last two decades, “decolonizing the museum” has determined and still determines to a large extent discussions about the ethical aspects of ethnographic collecting and museums, and sharing collections and knowledge has become a major issue in museum practices. Ethnographic collecting is, however, not only carried out in situations of dominance or violence. It goes far beyond this contested way of obtaining objects. Ethnographic collecting is also an expression of curiosity, of an interest in “the other”, in human beings who are different from us, but at the same time are just as human as we, mostly Europeans, are.

The future of ethnographic collecting and museums: Beyond colonialism

34For some decades now it has often been said that ethnographic museums are in a state of crisis, because of their colonial past, firstly because most of the former colonies have now gained independence and more recently because of restitution issues. Museums are felt to have difficulties with their contested past and not to know how to react to the rapid changes occurring in the world. Decolonizing the museum has become a fashionable subject. The word ethnographic is contested, because of its connotations of western dominance over “the other” and many ethnographic museums have changed their name to Museum of World Cultures (for example the museums in Gothenborg, Leiden and Vienna, among others). Yet, this limits the ethnographic museum to an institution related to colonialism and disregards its history as a knowledge institute recording human diversity and as a potential guardian of the principle that all human beings are created equal. The focus on the contested past of ethnographic collecting and museums can also block us from exploring avenues for future developments, developments that can revitalize the museum as well as contribute considerably to our understanding of human cultures in all their expressions.

35So, what are the options for the future? I would like to suggest three avenues for future development:

36The ethnographic museum as a public place for encounters, with the collections as sources of knowledge as well as initiators of discussions.
Museums, and Cabinets of Rarities, always wanted to invite people to come and see the collections, to be astonished and to learn. Until the 19
th century the opportunities to enter a collection building were, however, often limited. Many collections were only accessible to scholars or diplomats. In its early years, the British Museum was officially open to members of the public who had an entrance ticket, but it was hard to get a ticket. Museums were also not always open. In the early 19th century in the Netherlands, museums were closed on a Sunday, which meant that the working class was never able to visit them, since Sunday was their only day off. Museum accessibility has of course improved considerably since the early days, but the challenge to attract a more diverse public and to stimulate discussion needs constant attention. In a rapidly changing world, museums should be dynamic institutions with active antennae for societal developments. For ethnographic museums there are further challenges here, not only in their contacts with the local population, including migrant communities. Ethnographic museums should also excel in their contacts with the regions from where the collections originate.

  • 25 L. Förster, “The Future of Ethnographic Collecting”, in P. Voogt (ed.), Can We Make a Difference? M (...)

37Value and activate indigenous voices in the museum.25
Loyal to the eighteenth-century roots of the early ethnographic museums, the humanization of “the other” should be a central point of attention in all museum activities. Prejudices about people who live far away and who are now also present in our own European society are still very strong. The only way to comprehend other cultures is to take them seriously, to value “the other”. This can only be done by developing more knowledge about “the other” and with respect for “the other”. It is precisely on this last point that so many mistakes were made during colonial times, because of a deep misunderstanding or an aggressive power politics. Using indigenous knowledge in museum practices, such as collecting, research, collection care, exhibitions, and public relations, should not only be seen as a moral obligation. It also contributes to cultivating understanding and mutual respect. The collections are ideal anchors for research and discussions with indigenous people; as sources of knowledge they can offer us insights into the ideas, values, and practices of “the other.” And that is not superfluous luxury.

  • 26 A. Muñoz, “When the ‘Other’ Became the Neighbor”, in P. Voogt, op. cit., p. 54-62.

38The differences between “us” and “the other” should not be ignored.
This brings me to a third and probably more fundamental point. Ethnographic museums operate in a complex field of tension between diversity and universalism. On the one hand, exhibitions stress the particularities of the cultures presented and the collections are catalogued and stored by ethnic names. This enhanced feelings of “otherness” and implicitly denies the dynamic nature of most cultures. Change is universal and a static view of cultures is therefore unrealistic. On the other hand, ethnographic museums strive to present a universalistic vision of humankind. Although “the other” may look different from “us” and may behave differently, they are still human beings, just as you and me. There are two ways to deal with this tension. One is to deny the differences between “us” and “the other” since we are all human beings and therefore potentially equal. This approach eventually erases the gaps between cultures and may look sympathetic, but it denies cultural realities. In fact, people, always and everywhere, distinguish themselves from “the other”, not only from people far-away, but also from their neighbours.
26 We all construct part of our identity by relating to others, because we want to be different from others. I would therefore advocate a more realistic approach for ethnographic museums. Use the collections to show the individuality and peculiarities of cultures and at the same time make clear how human, and recognizable, all this is. “The other” may look different or potentially dangerous, but it is the main task of ethnographic museums to show that “the other” is also like “us”, a human being with all its worries, anxieties, happiness and love.

  • 27 B. Malinowksi, op. cit.

39The constant changes and critical reviews of ethnographic collections and the occasionally tense relations with “the other” are not expressions of a crisis, but an essential part of ethnographic museums and of the use of ethnographic collections. Change creates uncertainty, but being aware of change creates opportunities. Ethnographic museums are not on the verge of dying out, they are working towards renewal with the collections as points of departure in close consultation with the descendants of the former owners. This creates relationships, not animosity. As in the kula trade network of the Trobriand islanders, described by Bronislaw Malinowski, exchanging objects creates added value to human relations.27 This is also a justification for the existence of ethnographic museums and for further, challenging developments in the future. Nicholas Thomas summarizes the need for ethnographic museums and their present and future importance as follows:

  • 28 N. Thomas, “Global Reach: Ethnographic Museums”, Apollo, April 2016, p. 34.

“Certainly, ethnography was associated with the business of empire, both in practice and in theory. But it was also, from the start, distinguished by genuine efforts to document and celebrate cultures beyond Europe – efforts that are often considered important by the people concerned today. Ethnography collections need to be living collections, representative of cultural diversity in the present, as well as of traditions which suffered upheaval, the confrontation of empire, at the time of the museums’ formation. Renewed museums have the capacity to represent not only world cultures, but also the interconnectedness of the world, starting with the puzzling and sometimes problematic stories of how their collections reached Europe. Conceived ambitiously rather than apologetically, museums of ethnography and world culture now have more to offer than ever before.”28

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Notes

1 For example, T. Bennett (ed.), Collecting, Ordering, Governing. Anthropology, Museums, and Liberal Government, Durham and London, Duke University Press, 2017; R. Corbey, Tribal Art Traffic. A Chronicle of Taste, Trade and Desire in Colonial and Post-Colonial Times, Amsterdam, Royal Tropical Institute, 2000; C. Gosden and C. Knowles, Collecting Colonialism. Material Culture and Colonial Change, Oxford and New York, Berg, 2001; M. O’Hanlon and R. L. Welsh, Hunting the Gatherers. Ethnographic Collectors, Agents, and Agency in Melanesia 1870s-1930s, London, Berghahn Books, 2001; P. ter Keurs (ed.), Colonial Collections Revisited, Leiden, CNWS Publications, 2007; S. Pearce, On Collecting. An Investigation into Collecting in the European Tradition, 1995; R. Schefold and H. Vermeulen (ed.), Treasure Hunting? Collectors and Collections of Indonesian Artefacts, Leiden, CNWS Publications, 2002.

2 P. Mauriès, Cabinets of Curiosities, London, Thames and Hudson Ltd, 2002, p. 17-19.

3 S. Quiccheberg, The First Treatise on Museums. Samuel Quiccheberg’s Inscriptions [1565], translation by M.A. Meadow and B. Robertson. Introduction by M.A. Meadow, Los Angeles, Getty Publications, 2013.

4 L. Kooijmans, Frederik Ruysch. Op het snijvlak van kunst en wetenschap, Amsterdam, Uitgeverij Lias, 2018.

5 J. J. Driessen-Van het Reve, De Kunstkamera van Peter de Grote. De Hollandse inbreng, gereconstrueerd uit brieven van Albert Seba en Johann Daniel Schumacher uit de jaren 1711-1752, Hilversum, Uitgeverij Verloren, 2006, p. 138-146.

6 J. Delbourgo, Collecting the World. The Life and Curiosity of Hans Sloane, London, Allen Lane, 2017.

7 I. Jenkins and K. Sloan, Vases and Volcanoes: Sir William Hamilton and His Collection, London, British Museum Press, 1996.

8 B. Douglas, F. Wonu Veijs, B. Lythberg (ed.), Collecting in the South Sea. The Voyage of Bruni d’Entrecasteaux 1791-1794, Leiden, Sidestone Press, 2018.

9 J. Sheehan, “Culture”, in T.C.W. Blanning (ed.), The Nineteenth Century. Europe 1789-1914, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2000, p. 151.

10 M. Jasanoff, Edge of Empire. Conquest and Collecting in the East 1750-1850, London, Harper Perennial, 2006.

11 R. Llewellyn Jones, A very ingenious man: Claude Martin in Early Colonial India, New Delhi, Oxford University Press, 1992, p. 149-50.

12 T. Blanning and H. Schulze (ed.), Unity and Diversity in European Culture c. 1800, London, British Academy, Oxford University Press, 2006, p. 1.

13 T. Bennett, The Birth of the Public Museum. History, Theory, Politics, Oxon and New York, Routledge, 1995.

14 J. Godfried Herder, Ideen zur Philosophie zur Bildung der Menschheid [1784-1791], Wiesbaden, Fourier Verlag, 1985.

15 R. Young, Colonial Desire. Hybridity in Theory, Culture and Race, Oxon and New York, Routledge, 1995.

16 E. Hardiati and P. ter Keurs (eds.), The Discovery of the Past, Amsterdam, KIT Publishers, 2005; P. ter Keurs (ed.), Colonial Collections Revisited, Leiden, CNWS Publications, 2007.

17 A. Geppert, Fleeting Cities. Imperial Expositions in Fin-de-Siècle Europe, New York, Palgrave Macmillan, 2010.

18 D. Miller, Material Culture and Mass Consumption, Cambridge, Basil Blackwell, 1987; V. Buchli (ed.), The Material Culture Reader, Oxford, New York, Berg, 2002; D. Miller (ed.), Materiality, Durham and London, 2005; C. van Eck, Art, Agency and Living Presence. From the Animated Image to the Excessive Object, Boston, Berlin, Munich, Leiden, De Gruyter, Leiden University Press, 2015; I. Hodder, Entangled. A New Archaeology of the Relationships between Humans and Things, Oxford, Wiley-Blackwell, 2nd enlarged edition, 2023.

19 M. Mauss, « Essai sur le don. Forme et raison de l’échange dans les sociétés primitives », L’Année sociologique, 1923/1924, p. 30-186.

20 B. Malinowksi, Argonauts of the Western Pacific. An Account of Native Enterprise and Adventure in the Archipelagoes of Melanesian New Guinea, London and Henley, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1922.

21 J. Hoskins, Biographical Objects. How Things Tell the Stories of People’s Lives. New York and London, Routledge, 1998; Marilyn Strathern, Property, Substance and Effect. Anthropological Essays on Persons and Things, London & New Brunswick, NJ, The Athlone Press, 1999; R. Wagner, “The Fractal Person” in M. Godelier and M. Strathern (ed.), Big Men and Great Men. Personifications of Power in Melanesia, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1991, p. 159-173.

22 J. Platenkamp, “Cultural Appropriation. A Social-Anthropological Critique” in R. Hardenberg, J. Platenkamp, T. Widlok (ed.), Ethnologie als angewandte Wissenschaft. Das Zusammenspiel von Theorie und Praxis, Berlin, Reimer, 2022. p. 327-346.

23 S. Müller, Reizen en onderzoekingen in den Indischen archipel, gedaan op last van de Nederlandsch Indische regering tusschen de jaren 1828 en 1836, vol. I and II, Amsterdam, Frederik Muller, 1857.

24 P. ter Keurs, “Theory and Practice of Colonial Collection”, in Pieter ter Keurs (ed.), Colonial Collections Revisited, Leiden, CNWS Publications, 2007, p. 1-15.

25 L. Förster, “The Future of Ethnographic Collecting”, in P. Voogt (ed.), Can We Make a Difference? Museums, Society and Development in North and South, Amsterdam, Tropenmuseum, 2008, Bulletin 387, p. 18-28; N. Stanley, “Can Museums Help Sustain Indigenous Identity? Reflections from Melanesia”, Visual Anthropology, 2004, 17, p. 369-385; A.-C. Taylor, “On Decolonizing Anthropological Museums: Curators Need to Take ‘Indigenous’ Forms of Knowledge More Seriously. A Conversation with Anne-Christine Taylor”, in M. von Oswald and J. Tinius (ed.), Across Anthropology. Troubling Colonial Legacies, Museums, and the Curatorial, Leuven, Leuven University Press, 2020, p. 97-104.

26 A. Muñoz, “When the ‘Other’ Became the Neighbor”, in P. Voogt, op. cit., p. 54-62.

27 B. Malinowksi, op. cit.

28 N. Thomas, “Global Reach: Ethnographic Museums”, Apollo, April 2016, p. 34.

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Table des illustrations

Légende Figure 1: The Cabinet of Rarities of Ole Worm, 1655.
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Légende Figure 2: Painting by Johann Zoffany, 1786. The third person on the left is Antoine Polier. Claude Martin is the third person on the right.
Crédits © Collection Victoria Museum, Calcutta/Kolkata
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Légende Figure 3: Amidst looted objects from the palace of the Oba of Benin, 1897.
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Légende Figure 4: Trading wooden bowls, used during rituals to distribute food and as bride price payments, from the Siassi islands, Papua New Guinea.
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Légende Figure 5: A newly made coconut spoon, collected by Salomon Müller during expeditions to Nusa Tenggara, East Indonesia, 1828-1836.
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Pieter ter Keurs, « Ethnographic collecting, colonialism, and exchange »Les Cahiers de l’École du Louvre [En ligne], 24 | 2025, mis en ligne le 01 décembre 2025, consulté le 13 février 2026. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/cel/36070 ; DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/15bjr

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Auteur

Pieter ter Keurs

Pieter ter Keurs est anthropologue. Il a mené des recherches en Nouvelle Guinée ainsi qu’en Indonésie. Conservateur au Musée national d’ethnologie de Leyde (Pays-Bas), puis directeur des collections et de la recherche dans le musée national des antiquités de la même ville, il a également été professeur à l’université de Leyde, où il enseignait l’« anthropologie de la culture matérielle » ainsi que « musées, collections et société ».
Il est l’auteur de Condensed Reality. A Study of Material Culture (2006) et de Au nord de Sumatra. Les Batak (2008). Il a en outre codirigé The Language of Things (1990), Pacific Material Culture (1995) et Colonial Collections Revisited (2007). Ses travaux incluent de nombreux articles consacrés aux cultures matérielles de Nouvelle-Guinée et d’Indonésie.­

Pieter ter Keurs is an anthropologist. He has conducted research in New Guinea and Indonesia. Curator at the National Museum of Ethnology in Leiden (Netherlands), then director of collections and research at the National Museum of Antiquities in the same city, he has also been a professor at Leiden University, where he taught “anthropology of material culture” and “museums, collections and society”.
He is the author of Condensed Reality: A Study of Material Culture (2006) and North of Sumatra: The Batak (2008). He also co-edited The Language of Things (1990), Pacific Material Culture (1995) and Colonial Collections Revisited (2007). His work includes numerous articles on the material cultures of New Guinea and Indonesia.

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