MAY 19, 2000 VOL. 27 NO. 19 | SEARCH ASIAWEEK

Asiaweek Pictures A bronze tiger's head looted from an imperial palace in Beijing

A Cultural Revolution
The international debate over stolen relics shifts to Hong Kong
By YULANDA CHUNG Hong Kong

The evening news on China state television on the eve of Labor Day featured an unusual interview with the Hong Kong dissident April 5 Action Group. These fierce critics of the Chinese government, on matters ranging from labor policy to human rights, were in rare agreement with Beijing. Their common ground: anger over the sale in the SAR of looted Qing relics by the auction houses Christie's and Sotheby's. The controversial lots - three bronze animal heads and a famille rose vase - had been stolen when colonial powers ransacked the Old Summer Palace in Beijing about 140 years ago. Outrage and humiliation over that event continues to run deep in the Chinese psyche.

Despite written objections from the State Bureau of Cultural Relics, both auction houses insisted they had to honor commercial obligations. Hong Kong officials declined to intervene, noting the SAR had no provisions on the return of antiquities. So the bidding went ahead inside luxury hotel suites, accompanied by noisy protests and scuffles with squads of police officers just outside the closed doors. The Chinese, though, were determined to bring the relics home. And, as sometimes happens, two state enterprises stepped into the breech to fulfill their "patriotic duty."

The Beijing Cultural Relics Company won the hexagonal Qianlong vase with a $2.5 million bid. But it was a former commercial wing of the People's Liberation Army which dug deepest. The China Poly Group picked up the animal figures for $4 million: $2 million for Christie's busts of an ox and monkey and the remainder for the tiger's head from Sotheby's. The pieces will go to a museum the group opened in Beijing about a year ago. Headed by He Ping, a son-in-law of Deng Xiaoping, the institution has quietly built up an impressive collection of bronzes, mainly from dealers. Among the most prominent pieces are an eight-lobed bottle from the Tang period and a Western Han lamp supported by three warrior figures. The latest acquisitions, part of an elaborate water clock designed around the 12 signs of the Chinese zodiac, would fit right in.

All the same, the Chinese buyers' approach puzzles many observers. Their representatives signaled even before bidding started that they were set on acquiring the items "at any price." No surprise then that the gavel came down for sums considerably higher than the estimated value. Ma Baoping, curator of the Poly museum, insists the group had no choice. Likening the stolen animal figures to kidnap victims, he says: "If there are 12 hostages and you can only save three, would you do nothing? We must pay regardless of the cost." Not everyone thinks that was a smart move. The mainland representatives made "outrageously high" bids, says established antique dealer P. Chan. "The market for similar relics won't be topping that for a while." Curator Ma concedes that having taken this stance, the "ransom" for the remaining nine heads, wherever they may be, is bound to go up. But how do you put a price-tag on national dignity, he asks?

Red Guards may have smashed ancient statuary as symbols of feudal backwardness during the 1960s, but an ascendant China is now waging an aggressive campaign to retrieve its lost antiquities. Last month, Chinese archaeologists challenged the Miho Museum in Kyoto for showcasing a Buddhist carving said to be stolen from a collection in Shandong just six years ago. In March, Beijing persuaded U.S. Customs to impound a 10th-century marble panel from Christie's New York that was allegedly taken from an ancient tomb. But the open market looks to be as important an avenue for recovering cultural treasures. The Shanghai Library, for example, acquired an important collection of classical Chinese texts from a private collector for $4.5 million. "Thirty years ago, we wouldn't have been able to produce that sort of money," says Ma. "Economic reforms have now allowed us to do so."

Perhaps eager to bolster their patriotic credentials, several Hong Kong politicians have called for legislation to extend Chinese jurisdiction over stolen relics to the SAR. Such proposals are likely to be resisted by the Hong Kong government, which has assiduously maintained a non-committal position on the controversy. In the main, Hong Kongers regard the recent auctions with some ambivalence. Many are relieved that officials are defending the SAR's reputation as a free-trade center. Nonetheless, says political scientist Cheng Yu-shek, the recent auctions grate with wide sections of the community. "It's a fact that the items were looted from China," he adds. One academic went so far as to describe payments for the relics as "a second looting."

At the least, Sotheby's and Christie's decision to proceed with their Hong Kong sales has been insensitive. Leung Chun-ying, a senior SAR government adviser who is close to Beijing, calls the action "stupid." Will Chinese officials act on their warning that the two international auction houses would "pay for their ill-advised choice?" Antique dealer Henry Chong takes a sanguine view. "The auctioneers have to be accountable to their customers. They might suffer financially in the short term, but I don't think there will be any long-term damage to their business prospects in the mainland," he says. For now, the two houses probably won't want to venture into major deals in China to avoid further upsetting jangled nerves. However, Chong believes relations will improve as China gears up to join the World Trade Organization.

Maybe. Meanwhile, the controversial sales add fuel to a growing international debate over who owns stolen artifacts. Treaties such as the 1995 United Nations-sponsored Unidroit convention limit claims on cultural objects to within 50 years of the time of theft. Even so, the British Museum, for one, is under increasing pressure to return the Elgin marbles to Greece. The sculptures were snatched from the Parthenon to London during the early 19th century.

Dealers and auction houses frequently point out that they rarely deal in such national treasures. The ancient temple carvings from India and Cambodia that surface in galleries in New York and London are usually of dubious provenance. So for now, the market is still held to be sacrosanct. But the tide of opinion may be shifting. "If they were looted, we want them back," says Ma Lik, a Hong Kong representative to the Chinese legislature. "We don't care how long ago they were taken."

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