As an expression of cultural identity, The Benin Bronzes present a vital human voice. As an expression of coerced labor and cultural appropriation, they present a case study about how power imbalances can usurp artistic agency.
Except for those things done solo, creative enterprises are often condensations of oppression.
Think that’s nuts?
The Benin Bronzes exemplify a raging debate about worst parts of cultural appropriation. They’re housed in the British Museum as artifacts obtained by murderous plunder after a long history of colonial occupation. They should be returned to Nigeria, one argument goes, as a form of repatriation of cultural identity, stolen goods returned to their rightful owners. (The Bronzes come from The Kingdom of Benin, which is now part of Edo State in Nigeria.)
But who, really, are the owners? The ethically dubious government currently in charge of Edo State? The aging— and also corrupt—hegemonic leader of a Benin tribal group who claims royal family ownership of those artifacts? A regional museum in Benin that’s unlikely to preserve, let alone properly display these rare artifacts? A major new museum scheduled to open this fall that wants to be seen as the proper steward for these artifacts?
The Brits assert that under their care the Bronzes at least have a chance to be protected, displayed, appreciated by diverse audiences, and not disappear into private collections of shady repute. That’s not bad, but it’s still not adequate. The British Museum’s reasonable sounding justification cannot be a morality cloak for the history by which they acquired these pieces. Unfortunately the other options about a lasting home of these artifacts do not feel adequate either.
I’m digressing from my initial assertion, but not by much. The real problem here is that I have no idea how to resolve this ethical conundrum, or the many similar examples of improper cultural claims around the world.
Let’s go back and review the initial charge: creative enterprises are condensations of oppression. The Benin Bronzes aren’t actually bronze. Most of them are actually made of brass, created as an indirect product of malevolent behavior on the part of the royal families that enabled their creation. Benin royalty earned its wealth largely by selling its own people into slavery, essentially amplifying the already barbaric tendencies promulgated by European powers at the time to sell people at auction. Slavery makes money, however, and some of the resources that historically accrued to The Kingdom of Benin contributed to the creation of these pieces. They were commissioned as elements of decor, and in some cases family memorials for the ruling class. In short, there are no “good guys” in this tale, even as the artworks at the center of the story present an extraordinary record of culture, craftsmanship, and history: condensations of oppression.
But what of creative enterprises that don’t describe traditional “arts”? Consider modern products of industry. Nineteenth and early twentieth century railroads were built by underpaid workers, often in dangerous conditions, often without recourse for proper treatment. Same goes for the wage serfs in modern food manufacturing companies, or garment factories, or even a thick slice of contemporary cube-farm employees in air conditioned spaces. Sure, the relative comfort of working in downtown Indianapolis office space is profoundly better than a coal miner’s stooped and carbon-dusted existence, but the underlying paucity of worker agency remains a fundamental reality of capital influence. Ask any crew on a movie shoot to describe their working conditions. Even under the best production leadership it’s often a gladiator’s life. Wake, work like draft horses, wait, work some more, worry about getting the next gig, wait, then rush back to the arena before sunrise if fortunate enough to get a call. You can count on long hours and limited influence. You can count on endless tasks and sudden changes. You can count on not being able to predict your own schedule, which inevitably presents intense challenges for pursuing your own life goals. Yes, it beats indentured servitude, but the glamour of working in movies dissipates fast. Stars and producers get the lion’s share. If you work “below the line”, you’re a wage serf. The burden of employment becomes oppressive even as you clamor for the job.
There are other categories that hide in plain sight. Creative enterprises aimed at generating even the most compelling work can only emerge by co-opting other people who cannot marshal their own agency.
Don’t roll your eyes. I’m not immune to the immediate, rising din from readers who claim that work should be celebrated rather than excoriated when made possible by leaders brave enough to spearhead creative initiatives. The inevitable continuation of that thought is that teams of working people are not necessarily oppressed: they are employed.
Okay: true. To echo my lament about the Benin Bronzes, I don’t have a better framework to offer. To be transparent, at times I also willingly work for people on a range of creative enterprises, while at other times I employee people to help me achieve my own visions, such as they may be. But what I try never to forget in either scenario is that to do anything requiring more than my own two hands demands that other people subvert their own needs. Taken to an extreme —the creation of The Bronzes, for example—means that the efforts themselves inevitably discount the value of most of the participants. Payment for labor does not singularly exonerate the person who’s paying from treating workers well. It’s a start, but it’s hardly an end.
Writers or painters or textile artists working alone in their own private spaces present alternatives. We are inevitably moved by creative works of those who expertly ply their craft all by themselves. But if you want to build a bridge or run a restaurant or make a movie you need a crew, and that means you need a means of organization and control.
You’re still chafing about this. (I just know.) You’re reading and thinking, “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course a big project requires lots of people to get it done, and that doesn’t automatically make it oppressive!”
I think it does, but I’ll offer a subtle nuance to that charge. It doesn’t necessarily make YOU oppressive, at least in terms of your intentions. (Perhaps you ARE oppressive, but that’s another matter entirely.) But I don’t believe we should pretend. If the goal for a team of people is to create something, anything, with high standards, then there is automatically a savage intensity that accrues to the effort. It may be the best system we have—it may be the most efficient way to coordinate the requisite labor and skills to accomplish anything beyond the work of an individual alone—but just because there isn’t a better solution doesn’t mean there are no lessons to learn, or big thoughts to keep in mind.
Take it in steps: start with a job that only requires yourself. If you simply want to get a it done, you can choose to metaphorically phone it in or use some sort of pre-existing template. Of course, you can’t be surprised if nobody comes back to you for repeat business, or if your name and your work gets forgotten amid the swirling sands of time. Mediocrity rarely deserves much attention or memory.
But if you actually care about what you make, requirements rise quickly. You either fight like mad to bring your idea to glittering, glowing life, or you wind up settling for something less. Fighting like mad for your own highest standards does not guarantee success (not at all!), but success rarely comes from anything less than than enormous commitment.
Now, let’s add the necessity of other people working on your project. If your goals are high, and you determine to fight like mad, and you must employ others, you’re going to lean on them to give you as much as they’ll endure. Your carrot is their paycheck. Your stick is a constant reminder that there are plenty of other people salivating for their carrot.
The savage intensity required in the pursuit of excellence does not enable short-cuts or sub-standard results. Labor will be paid, but not if the work doesn’t meet your standards. That’s reasonable on its face, but again, it’s hardly sufficient. It’s always in the hands of employers to determine how labor will be treated. Expressions of humanity will always be asymmetrically skewed toward the creative leads. The higher the standards, the more likely that worker conditions will erode.
Along the way to getting a job past its checkered flag, many people settle for something less than creative apotheosis. That’s no crime. But if you aspire to make something beyond the ordinary, don’t fool yourself that mere adequacy will make your efforts eternal. The things history remembers are rare and precious and worthy of note precisely because someone cared to make them matter. “Savage” therefore connotes an imperative of action, a singularity of intention that is not easily governed or mitigated by intruding thoughts or strategies. “Savage” means capturing other people, either by chains, by salaries, or by charismatic force of will. Capture methods can be ethical, such as attracting people with decent wages and good health benefits and PTO, or capture can be oppressive and dehumanizing, like western companies and consumers look askance while Congolese workers dig up rare earth minerals in horrific conditions so that we can light up our fancy cell phones. The first version is, obviously, far better in terms of quality of life for those who receive dental benefits and fifteen paid days off. But taken to logical conclusions, people in power determine the rules, and workers delivering the labor must adapt to circumstances.
Let’s go back to The Benin Bronzes. These artifacts describe condensations of labor. They also describe usurpations of autonomy and ownership, and disingenuous declarations of cultural preservation on the part of those who initially ordered their creation, not to mention those who seek to retain them going forward. I’m glad they’re safe in the British Museum, and I’m sad they’re safe in the British Museum. Neither are good options, in similar ways that that wage servitude is simultaneously no way to live and also a legitimate, often honorable means for making a living.
For creators, the take-home message carries a charge of responsibility. We must be honest about all of this. We must be honest with ourselves, and we must commit to being fair and reasonable with those who work for us. At no point should any leader ask for less than excellence, presuming excellence happens to be the goal. (It generally is for me.) But the corrosive power inherent in marshaling others to do things we cannot do by ourselves always threatens to erode the bonds of civility and respect. Without a foreground dialogue about agency and ownership, the artifacts of culture will always carry the scent of sweat and tears, no matter how well they’re polished.