Starting in August 2010, a series of carefully planned and lightning-quick raids has resulted in the theft of priceless Chinese artworks from leading museums across Europe. No ransom notes were received. Almost nothing was recovered, and the whereabouts of the objects remain a mystery today.
Ralph Pezzullo builds a persuasive case in his book “The Great Chinese Art Heist: Imperialism, Organized Crime, and the Hidden Story of China’s Stolen Artistic Treasures” that the thefts may be part of a coordinated effort to steal back antiquities that were looted from China more than 150 years ago.
The raids were audacious in their planning and execution. In one case, the thieves rappelled down from a glass roof to reach their targets. In another, they chiseled through a 3-foot stone wall. During one incident, the perpetrators set several cars on fire to divert police attention.
Why We Wrote This
Museums in the West hold art treasures looted during conquests in Asia and Africa. For the countries seeking repatriation of their art, the process is long and complicated, and some may be tempted to circumvent official channels. In the case of China, issues of fairness and national pride are at stake. These conditions may have given rise to the retaking of art through theft.
The heists were carried out quickly – in 10 minutes or less. And the thieves seemed to know exactly what they wanted. They sometimes left equally valuable treasures undisturbed. In other cases, they were careless, and precious antiques were destroyed or damaged.
Thefts have taken place at the home of the Swedish royal family and the Château de Fontainebleau. Museums in England, Norway, Germany, Belgium, and the Netherlands have all been hit. Some have been attacked twice, even after security was enhanced.
The artifacts are so well-known and well-documented that they cannot be sold at auction. So the thefts must have been at the behest of individuals or groups who wanted them for their own pleasure; or perhaps, Pezzullo argues, the thefts are part of score-settling by elements within China, spurred by nationalism and dissatisfaction over the slow process of repatriation.
In the 2000s, “Chinese leaders made it clear that they wanted their looted treasures back,” Pezzullo writes. “But would they resort to hiring professional thieves to break into European museums and snatch the pieces they wanted? That idea seemed wildly farfetched.”
The opium trade and the balance of power
Pezzullo draws a link between the thefts in the 2000s and the looting and destruction of the Old Summer Palace in Peking (now Beijing) at the end of the Second Opium War in 1860.
As the British consumption of Indian tea soared in the 19th century, the British East India Co. (BEIC) found itself facing a serious trade deficit. With an eye to reducing the imbalance, the British coveted access to the Chinese market – it especially wanted to sell opium in China. But, under the Qing dynasty, the Chinese market was largely closed to foreigners. So the British used military forces to gain access and the two Opium wars were the result. The BEIC “became an international drug trafficker – a business strategy that proved phenomenally successful,” Pezzullo writes. Tens of millions of Chinese people became addicted to the drug.
Qing dynasty rulers had tried to halt the opium trade, but their efforts did not stop the BEIC, which had its own army and the support of the British military behind it. In 1860, French soldiers and British troops under the command of the 8th Earl of Elgin (whose father brought the Parthenon marbles to London) looted the Old Summer Palace, also known as Yuanmingyuan. Lord Elgin was so incensed by reports that prisoners of war had been tortured and executed by the Chinese, he ordered the palace’s complete destruction.
Pezzullo describes the splendor on display: “Much like Crystal Palace in London or the grounds of Versailles, the Yuanmingyuan in Beijing was an enormous complex roughly the size of New York City’s Central Park, which housed an array of foreign and native Chinese objects, artwork, pleasure gardens, and architecture. … It held over three thousand structures and served primarily as a summer resort for the Qianlong Emperor.” The site was so vast that it took more than 4,000 troops several days to burn it to the ground.
The Second Opium War marked the end of the Qing dynasty and the total subjugation of China by the West. The era that followed – from 1860 until the establishment of the People’s Republic of China in 1949 – is known in China as the “Century of Humiliation.” This history lesson, which to Chinese rulers demonstrates that a divided China is easy prey, is one factor that contributes to a strong sense of nationalism.
Repatriation issues at stake
The evidence to connect the thefts with an event that occurred more than 150 years ago is circumstantial, but Pezzullo’s arguments are plausible. He posits that local European gangs executed the heists at the behest of Chinese gangs that operate in Europe. Allegedly standing behind the Chinese gangs is the China Poly Group, a vast, state-owned business group active in international trade, real estate, and culture. And, among other things, it owns the world’s third-largest auction house.
Pezzullo discusses the problem of repatriating art that was seized by colonial powers and that remains in those countries’ museums. In the past 20 years, many of the world’s largest museums have established repatriation teams. Still, countries that wish to reclaim objects must build a strong, public case for their return. In some situations, such as with Nigeria’s Benin bronzes, this has been successful. And most art that is returned, like the bronzes, is placed on prominent display. But the Chinese antiquities stolen from European museums simply vanished.
Pezzullo doesn’t offer much by way of solutions. At one point, he calls on the West to apologize for imposing the Century of Humiliation on China. But that seems unlikely: Few Western politicians would want to apologize to the Chinese Communist Party for anything and, even if they did, it would not satisfy what Pezzullo shows is a powerful urge for the Chinese people to reclaim their past.
This is popular history, not an academic study. There are digressions that don’t add much, and given how much of the story remains unclear, the book cannot be regarded as definitive. But this is an engaging, thought-provoking, and fast-paced read.
