Lawrence Rothfield is one very angry American academic with a mission to expose the incompetence, laziness, duplicity and sheer nastiness of the Bush-Rumsfeld war, which was alleged to bring "civilization" to Iraq.
Its reckless prosecution has resulted, entirely predictably, in the wholesale destruction of much of the archaeological evidence of the cradle of western civilization.
But there are heroes in this tale. One is Donny George Youkhanna, the former national director of museums in Iraq, who put his life on the line in his attempt to limit the destruction of Mesopotamian civilization.
The other is McGuire Gibson, the professor of Mesopotamian archaeology at the University of Chicago, who was tireless in his efforts to mobilise people, institutions and governments to avert the looting of sites and museums in Iraq as a result of the invasion.
Distinct threads emerge from the closely argued, evidence-based narrative. One concerns the steadfast refusal of the Pentagon to acknowledge the possibility of post-invasion looting.
Largely through Gibson's nagging, coordinates were given to the Pentagon for a "no-strike" list of culturally sensitive sites (including museums). But this was construed solely as protection from attack by coalition forces. Protecting sites from civilian looting was not on the agenda.
Britain, while not coming out of the story smelling of roses, tried to sound the alarm. Archaeologist and Conservative peer Colin Renfrew raised questions in the House of Lords, always to be fobbed off. Tony Blair gave bland reassurances about obligations under the Geneva Conventions, which do not address the threat of civilian looting.
Another telling thread in Rothfield's analysis is the pathological mistrust between the archaeological and museums communities in the US. Gibson was reluctant to recruit powerful museums such as the Metropolitan and the Getty to the cause of cultural protection in Iraq because he distrusted the motives of "the crowd of wealthy collectors, antiquities dealers, curators and lawyers" with whom they were connected.
He suspected that such people would become part of the problem of looting, because of their open opposition to national laws that prohibit the international market in antiquities.
The two opposed interest groups squandered energy and credibility in trading insults. The American Association of Museums went off in a huff, while the archaeologists bridled at the accusation of unpublished excavations being as good as plundered. The turf war between the State Department and the Defense Department made communicating the cultural alarm a nightmare.
Washington launched a PR campaign in 2008 claiming that looting was at an end. The British Museum, we are told, was unwittingly complicit when its team visited eight selected sites that were safeguarded, only because they were close to coalition force bases.
Elsewhere, Rothfield claims, 10,000 or so archaeological sites, unguarded or under the control of corrupt officials, are actively mined for artefacts. Looted antiquities will surface on the world market for many decades and fund insurgent terrorism. The closed National Museum is today reduced to a prison for artefacts.
General Colin Powell knew what was coming when he warned in 2002 that Washington would be held responsible for the damage that would result from a US-led invasion of Iraq. Prophetically, he referred to the "Pottery Barn rule: you break it, you own it".
The metaphor has a bitter irony for a country that has become a wasteland of cultural fragments. As Rothfield points out, "the loss is not just to Iraq but to us all - because, in a sense, Iraq's cultural patrimony is also the patrimony of humankind".
The appalling loss of life suffered by the Iraqi civilian population is mirrored in the destruction of their cultural heritage. The abject failure of military planners to safeguard either is morally indefensible and fatally undermined the coalition's war aims.
Tristram Besterman is an adviser and writer on museums and culture
Its reckless prosecution has resulted, entirely predictably, in the wholesale destruction of much of the archaeological evidence of the cradle of western civilization.
But there are heroes in this tale. One is Donny George Youkhanna, the former national director of museums in Iraq, who put his life on the line in his attempt to limit the destruction of Mesopotamian civilization.
The other is McGuire Gibson, the professor of Mesopotamian archaeology at the University of Chicago, who was tireless in his efforts to mobilise people, institutions and governments to avert the looting of sites and museums in Iraq as a result of the invasion.
Distinct threads emerge from the closely argued, evidence-based narrative. One concerns the steadfast refusal of the Pentagon to acknowledge the possibility of post-invasion looting.
Largely through Gibson's nagging, coordinates were given to the Pentagon for a "no-strike" list of culturally sensitive sites (including museums). But this was construed solely as protection from attack by coalition forces. Protecting sites from civilian looting was not on the agenda.
Britain, while not coming out of the story smelling of roses, tried to sound the alarm. Archaeologist and Conservative peer Colin Renfrew raised questions in the House of Lords, always to be fobbed off. Tony Blair gave bland reassurances about obligations under the Geneva Conventions, which do not address the threat of civilian looting.
Another telling thread in Rothfield's analysis is the pathological mistrust between the archaeological and museums communities in the US. Gibson was reluctant to recruit powerful museums such as the Metropolitan and the Getty to the cause of cultural protection in Iraq because he distrusted the motives of "the crowd of wealthy collectors, antiquities dealers, curators and lawyers" with whom they were connected.
He suspected that such people would become part of the problem of looting, because of their open opposition to national laws that prohibit the international market in antiquities.
The two opposed interest groups squandered energy and credibility in trading insults. The American Association of Museums went off in a huff, while the archaeologists bridled at the accusation of unpublished excavations being as good as plundered. The turf war between the State Department and the Defense Department made communicating the cultural alarm a nightmare.
Washington launched a PR campaign in 2008 claiming that looting was at an end. The British Museum, we are told, was unwittingly complicit when its team visited eight selected sites that were safeguarded, only because they were close to coalition force bases.
Elsewhere, Rothfield claims, 10,000 or so archaeological sites, unguarded or under the control of corrupt officials, are actively mined for artefacts. Looted antiquities will surface on the world market for many decades and fund insurgent terrorism. The closed National Museum is today reduced to a prison for artefacts.
General Colin Powell knew what was coming when he warned in 2002 that Washington would be held responsible for the damage that would result from a US-led invasion of Iraq. Prophetically, he referred to the "Pottery Barn rule: you break it, you own it".
The metaphor has a bitter irony for a country that has become a wasteland of cultural fragments. As Rothfield points out, "the loss is not just to Iraq but to us all - because, in a sense, Iraq's cultural patrimony is also the patrimony of humankind".
The appalling loss of life suffered by the Iraqi civilian population is mirrored in the destruction of their cultural heritage. The abject failure of military planners to safeguard either is morally indefensible and fatally undermined the coalition's war aims.
Tristram Besterman is an adviser and writer on museums and culture
By Lawrence Rothfield, £17.50
University of Chicago Press
ISBN 978-0-226-72945-9
University of Chicago Press
ISBN 978-0-226-72945-9
Links
Lost treasures, MJ May 2008, p22
Lost treasures, MJ May 2008, p22
