New York Times | - |
BAGHDAD - In those areas of Iraq and Syria
controlled by the Islamic State, residents are furtively recording on
their cellphones damage done to antiquities by the extremist group.
Race in Iraq and Syria to Record and Shield Art Falling to ISIS
BAGHDAD
— In those areas of Iraq and Syria controlled by the Islamic State,
residents are furtively recording on their cellphones damage done to antiquities by the extremist group. In northern Syria, museum curators have covered precious mosaics with sealant and sandbags.
And
at Baghdad’s recently reopened National Museum of Iraq, new iron bars
protect galleries of ancient artifacts from the worst-case scenario.
These
are just a few of the continuing efforts to guard the treasures of Iraq
and Syria, two countries rich with traces of the world’s earliest
civilizations.
Yet
only so much can be done under fire, and time is running out as Islamic
State militants speed ahead with the systematic looting and destruction
of antiquities.
In just a few days last week, officials said, the group, also known as ISIS or ISIL, destroyed parts of two of northern Iraq’s most prized ancient cities, Nimrud and Hatra. On Sunday, residents said militants destroyed parts of Dur Sharrukin, a 2,800-year-old Assyrian site near the village of Khorsabad.
Islamic
State militants have called ancient art idolatry that must be
destroyed. But they also loot antiquities on a large scale to raise
money, according to officials and experts who track the thefts through
local informants and satellite imagery.
“Everything
is dealt with for its value,” said Amr al-Azm, a former antiquities
official in Syria who now works with the Safeguarding the Heritage of
Syria and Iraq Project, an international consortium. “If it has
propaganda value they exploit it for propaganda. If they can sell it,
they sell it.”
Archaeologists
and preservationists, used to battling mundane enemies like weather and
development, lament that in areas held by the Islamic State there is
little they can do but document the destruction.
“A
fool criminal can come with one hit of a hammer and destroy all our
efforts, and we can do nothing,” said Qais Hussein Rashid, deputy
minister for tourism and antiquities. “It’s a great grief.”
Some
have even called for airstrikes, not the usual province of Iraq’s
cultural elite. Mr. Rashid and his boss, the minister, Adel Shirshab,
both called for American-led coalition warplanes to strike militants
approaching other historic sites.
On
Sunday, the officials took their latest step in seeking designation of
the ruins of ancient Babylon as a Unesco world heritage site, hoping for
a measure of protection by the United Nations.
Yet
the prospect feels like thin armor given the damage wrought to other
Unesco designated sites, like Hatra in Iraq, and, the Krak des
Chevaliers crusader castle and the Old City of Aleppo in Syria. Those
Syrian sites are victims not of the Islamic State, but of four years of
conflict between government and opposition forces, who shelled them and
used them for cover.
Now,
Iraq’s cultural institutions are “on the front lines against
terrorism,” Mr. Shirshab said, fighting a “barbarian invasion that is
targeting our heritage.”
But Iraq, he said, has survived “many invaders.”
He
was not referring only to Hulagu Khan, the Mongol conqueror who razed
the world’s greatest library and some of its finest buildings when he
sacked Baghdad in 1258. (At the time, Baghdad was the seat of the
Islamic caliphate, while today the Islamic State is merely a
self-declared caliphate.)
There
was also the United States invasion in 2003, when American troops stood
by as looters ransacked the Baghdad museum, a scenario that, Mr.
Shirshab suggested, is being repeated today. He spoke as Jeff Allen, a
program director at the World Monuments Fund, ceremonially handed over a thick set of plans, produced with Iraqi conservators, for the preservation of the Babylon site.
The
document addresses challenges that have long threatened Babylon: from
brick thieves to railroad and pipeline construction. The solutions are
mundane, like creating a single government agency authorized to protect
antiquities.
Invaders bent on wholesale destruction, Mr. Allen said dryly, were “beyond the scope of the plan.”
Luckily,
Babylon and other sites like the ziggurat of Ur are south of Baghdad,
where the national government is more firmly in control. Only the
military can keep those sites safe, said Hadi Moussa, an employee at the
Babylon site.
“This
is Hulagu,” he said comparing the modern invaders to an ancient one.
But he added that an inscription on Babylon’s gate dedicated to the
goddess Ishtar read: “Ishtar will defeat her enemies.”
The
Babylon preservation plan also includes new documentation of the site,
including brick-by- brick scale drawings of the ruins. In the event the
site is destroyed, Mr. Allen said, the drawings can be used to rebuild
it.
But
there are no equivalent drawings of Hatra and Nineveh. After years of
neglect and sanctions during Saddam Hussein’s dictatorship, and the
political chaos after his downfall, Iraq was behind international
standards in cataloging antiquities and archaeological sites, a process
that can help retrieve stolen objects or restore damaged ones.
The
American invasion alerted archaeologists to what needed protecting.
After damage and looting at many sites, documentation and preservation
accelerated. One result was that the Mosul Museum, attacked by the
Islamic State, had been digitally cataloged. Items not seen destroyed on
video were presumed looted, and a list has been passed to law
enforcement, said Katharyn Hanson, a University of Pennsylvania
archaeology fellow working with the consortium.
Around
2005 in Syria, Mr. Azm helped start similar projects amid fears that
country would face the next American invasion. But the work was never
finished, said Mr. Azm, who now opposes the Syrian government and
teaches at Shawnee University in Ohio.
He oversees an informal team of Syrians he has nicknamed the Monuments Men,
many of them his former students. They document damage and looting by
the Islamic State, pushing for crackdowns on the black market. Recently,
the United Nations banned all trade in Syrian artifacts.
Mr. Azm also worked with curators at the Ma’arra Mosaics Museum in Ma’arrat an Nu’manin the northern Syrian province of Idlib, who, in what so far is a rare success story, have safeguarded the mosaics there.
The
preservation consortium trained and financed the curators who sealed
the mosaics and barricaded them behind sandbags — not sturdy enough to
withstand a direct hit, but a measure of protection and a barrier to
thieves.
The
town is held by the Al Qaeda-affiliated Nusra Front. But a small local
insurgent group occupies it, cooperating with the curators, Mr. Azm
said.
Mr.
Azm said his former colleagues still working for the Syrian government
are doing their best. There have been reports that as the Islamic State
approached, museum officials spirited valuable artifacts out of Deir
al-Zour on a military plane along with the bodies of slain soldiers.
In Iraq, similar efforts have taken place. War interrupted courses
Professor Hanson helped teach at the Iraqi Institute for the
Conservation of Antiquities and Heritage in Erbil on how to document
museum collections and archaeological sites.
Now,
Iraqi colleagues teach conservators and concerned residents simple
techniques to use in areas controlled by the Islamic State, such as
turning on a cellphone’s GPS function when photographing objects, to
help trace damage or theft, or to add sites to the “no-strike” list for
warplanes.
Also in Erbil, the Rev. Nageeb Michael,
a Dominican priest and a scholar at the Digital Center for Eastern
Manuscripts, works to digitize historic Assyrian Christian manuscripts.
He had worked in Qaraqosh, an Assyrian Christian town in northern Iraq,
but fled when the Islamic State took over. Other scholars catalog
artifacts that displaced residents have managed to safeguard.
In another cultural salvo against the Islamic State, officials reopened the national museum last week after 12 years of repairs and ahead of schedule.
On
Sunday, Qais Abdelkareem, 26, a gardener from the impoverished Sadr
City district of Baghdad who helped plant petunias and pansies for the
museum’s opening, went inside for the first time. “This is Iraq’s
history,” he said, admiring stone tools made tens of thousands of years
ago. “You can say it’s the world’s history.”
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