Repatriation or political theatre? How the return of stolen artefacts can distort history

In late July, during a visit to the National Gallery of Australia, three Buddhist bodhisattva statues caught my attention.

All three were created in the ancient Champa Kingdom that flourished from the 2nd to 19th centuries across present-day Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos. They were purchased by the National Gallery (NGA) in 2011, before being “repatriated” to the Kingdom of Cambodia in 2023 (and displayed in the NGA on loan).

But the Champa Kingdom bore little resemblance to Cambodia’s current borders. What does repatriation mean when the political geography of a place has entirely transformed?

As my research has shown, museums, schools and state institutions can help sanction certain versions of history, while marginalising others. The quiet presence of the bodhisattvas in a museum case embodies much larger questions about cultural heritage, political legitimacy, and who gets to define historical “truth”.

Decades of marginalisation

The decision to return the Cham artefacts to Cambodia, and to exclude Vietnam and Laos, highlights how contemporary politics shape our understanding of cultural heritage.

The Cham people are an ethnic minority in Cambodia, Vietnam, and Laos. In Cambodia, they have been marginalised by the ruling government’s Khmer ethno-nationalist vision of the country.

Although most Cham people today are Muslim, the statues were made between the 9th and 11th centuries during a pre-Islamic era. This period was marked by strong Hindu and Buddhist influence, and a lack of nation-state borders.

After receiving the repatriated statues in 2023, Cambodian Ambassador to Australia, Cheunboran Chanborey, said:

Indeed, putting looted artefacts to their countries of origin can have significant and positive impacts on local communities and their involvement in preserving their cultural heritage. It can foster a sense of pride, national identity and cultural continuity as artefacts hold immense value for the communities to which they belong.

But the very cultural tradition that created the bodhisattvas now finds itself sidelined in a modern nation-state claiming ownership of them.

Lootings by the Khmer Rouge

The historical context of how the Cham poeple’s artefacts were looted is crucial and disturbing.

Journalist Anne Davies’ account in the NGA’s documentation notes organised looting networks were “often headed by members of the military or the Khmer Rouge”. The Khmer Rouge was the political party that ruled Cambodia from 1975–79 under the notorious Pol Pot, carrying out a genocide of the Cham people (as well as other ethnic groups).

However, this looting actually took place in the 1990s, after the Khmer Rouge was overthrown by the precursors to the present-day Cambodian People’s Party.

In other words, the looting happened on the current government’s watch. Davies writes “members of the military” of the Royal Cambodian Armed Forces worked with former Khmer Rouge soldiers who continued to occupy parts of northern Cambodia, especially areas protected by thick forest.

Looted artefacts moved from the hands of former Khmer Rouge members to the Cambodian military, and eventually to international markets.

A revealing 2009 photograph shows Douglas Latchford, the antiquities dealer who sold the statues to the NGA, examining artefacts at the National Museum of Cambodia, alongside Sok An, the then-deputy prime minister of the Cambodian People’s Party. Latchford is wearing a medal signifying Cambodian knighthood, suggesting a collaborative relationship.

Parallels to other illegal trades

After retreating to border forests in 1979, the Khmer Rouge began systematic, illegal timber logging, selling the wood throughout Thailand and Cambodia. Global Witness has documented how the ruling elites in both countries have profited substantially from this trade.

The connections between logging and looting are striking: both involved illegal acts by former Khmer Rouge soldiers that ultimately enriched ruling parties.

When I saw photos of the Cambodian Ambassador to Australia formally receiving the repatriated statues in 2023, the irony was inescapable. His party, the Cambodian People’s Party, was likely complicit in the original theft.

Historical context transforms repatriation’s meaning. Rather than restoring cultural heritage to rightful guardians, these ceremonies may serve as elaborate exercises in political laundering, allowing those who profited from cultural destruction to rebrand themselves as cultural preservationists.

A new framework

The implications of this extend far beyond Cambodia. In a world where borders have been redrawn countless times, and where many cultural traditions transcend boundaries, we need new frameworks for thinking about cultural heritage.

The NGA says it followed the Protection of Movable Cultural Heritage Act 1986 in returning the bodhisattvas to Cambodia. But the wall text for the statues acknowledges their complexity:

While the works were almost certainly created in Vietnam […] the archaeological site where they were found is in Cambodia.

The statutes were found in a different country from where they were created because the borders of those territories shifted over time.

Borders in the Mekong region of Southeast Asia have long been porous. It was only in 2012 that the last border marker between Cambodia and Vietnam was agreed on. We have also seen recent fighting over the Cambodian–Thai border.

Contested sovereignty remains a live political issue affecting how we understand cultural heritage. Is country of “origin” determined by where objects were created, or where they were discovered?

Perhaps genuine cultural justice requires acknowledging complexity rather than seeking simple solutions. Instead of asking which modern nation-state deserves these artefacts, we might ask: how can cultural heritage serve all peoples who share connections to it?

The three bodhisattvas remind us repatriation is never simply about returning objects to their “rightful” place. It’s about who gets to define that place, whose version of history becomes officially sanctioned, and whether cultural justice might sometimes serve to obscure, rather than remedy, historical injustice.

This article is republished from The Conversation, a nonprofit, independent news organization bringing you facts and trustworthy analysis to help you make sense of our complex world. It was written by: Will Brehm, University of Canberra

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Will Brehm does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.