In 2014, Prince William suggested that all ivory objects from Buckingham Palace be destroyed. His intent was to send a clear message against elephant poaching in Africa. Purposeful destruction of raw and worked ivory as a way to deter poachers has become a common tactic amongst nations; one of the largest instances of this was undertaken by Kenya where 231,000 lb. of ivory were incinerated in February 2016. While laws have further tightened around the sale and circulation of ivory and ivory objects in the United States, the United Kingdom, and parts of Asia since then, poaching of elephants and other animals continues predominantly for Asian markets.[1]
Prince William’s voice is but one of many that has called for the eradication of ivory from global museums. The argument rests on the conviction that ivory objects in museums may increase the interest and demand for ivory, weakening the case against poaching. As a response, Curator published a full issue in 2018 on the need to think critically about museum ivory. For the most part, contributors, who were largely curators or museum-related professionals, argued that ivory objects must be preserved and remain on display. Through public education and outreach, they argued that museums can bring visibility to ethical issues of museum practice and wildlife conservation and, concurrently, dissuade the demand for ivory.
Here, I join the chorus of museum curators, conservators, and other professionals who argue that–despite ivory’s fraught origins–hiding away or deaccessioning ivory objects within collections is not a viable solution.
Rather than focus only on the finished object, if art historians traced the raw material and the context of production and circulation of ivory it would force us to confront the ethics of the study of these objects. As a discipline, it would mean that we could consider the life cycles of objects as part of an ethical methodology and include this within art history education. All of this requires intensive engagement with ivory objects in museums.
There are significant reasons to support the above position. Ivory is a material deeply embedded within historical and contemporary issues of wildlife endangerment, climate change, (neo-) colonialism, and conspicuous consumption. Yet, ivory objects, especially those of non-Western origin, are also agents and markers of the cultures that produced them, and evidence of the colonial impetus to collect and display heritage of cultures affected by colonization. If we remove these objects, we eclipse histories of colonialism and imperialism, displacement, and violence in addition to making invisible the histories of lesser-known cultures and communities.
Another reason for museums to preserve and display ivory is that since working with ivory is legally banned across most countries, ivory carving is practically an extinct craft. Quite often, museum ivories are the only remaining traces of this technical knowledge. In the southern state of Kerala in India, ivory carving was a robust industry in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. But India banned the carving of ivory in the 1970s, and by the 1980s most ivory carvers had changed their occupation. Now, less than two dozen ivory objects from Kerala are recorded in museum collections globally.
One example of extant ivory, Queen Victoria’s chair of state, was made in the princely state of Travancore in 1849-50, and is now part of Royal Collection Trust UK. The ivory throne activated a pivotal moment in the political history of Travancore (the modern state of Kerala), where the throne was sent to England as an agent on behalf of the king of Travancore, a move that directly helped the Indian state retain its nominal independence.2 Although it arrived in England as a diplomatic gift, and therefore legal property of the Crown, the throne remains an important object for Travancore. The exquisitely carved and bejeweled throne captures the ingenuity of Kerala’s artisans. These ivory carvers were from lower-caste communities with little to no written histories prior to the twentieth century. The objects they made are, therefore, some of the few historical remnants of their craft and community. If Prince William had destroyed the palace ivories in 2014 as he proposed, this throne would have been one of the most artistically important ivories in that pyre. And its destruction would have erased one of only two objects in the world that have the name of the chief ivory carver of Travancore, Kochu Kunju Achari (or any artisan of his caste), attached.
Objects of ivory, such as the throne, are almost always transnational objects: the ivory throne is important to both Indian and British imperial histories. Its ivory, we know, is from elephant teeth likely sourced from Indian elephants (per analysis by the Royal Collection Trust), yet its carving style has similarities with other objects of the western Indian Ocean World.
For a holistic study of life cycles of art objects, art historians must work with other disciplines, especially with scientific disciplines such as forensic archaeology and material conservation, to understand endangered materials. An ethical study of ivory objects cannot be complete without understanding the raw material: is it elephant ivory? If it is, is it Africanus or Asiatic? Is it ivory from tusks or teeth? What was the age of the animal when the ivory was sourced? These questions can be scientifically answered through methods like DNA analyses and RAMAN spectroscopy.
In both historical and material ways, objects like the ivory throne are transnational, carrying within their physical selves multiple cultures and communities. So, while museums may be custodians of such objects, questions regarding their preservation must bring other stakeholders to the table. Art historians can be one of the key stakeholders in these discussions if we begin to consider the ethics of the study of art objects and thereby include in all our examinations processes of production. What are the raw materials? How were they sourced? What systems of trade enabled the circulation of materials, makers, and objects? Unearthing the life histories of museum objects (as much as it can be done) will further support the mission to educate the public about ivory and other endangered materials.
Deepthi Murali is Assistant Professor in the Department of History and Art History at George Mason University in Fairfax, VA.
[1] In the US circulation of ivory more than 100 years of age in any form is on a de facto ban since 2014. For more information on these laws, please visit CITES website.
Cite this note as: Deepthi Murali, “The Ethics of Study and Display of Ivory Objects” Journal18 (October 2024), https://www.journal18.org/7430.
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