Semester 2 Seminars

Our interdisciplinary seminar series continues in semester 2 and we have a dynamic program on offer designed to extend the discussions we have shared so far in Markers of Authenticity.

Have a look at the upcoming series and come join us for an afternoon of interdisciplinary conversation and refreshments. Also, if you are interested in attending the workshop on ‘Scripture, Reception, and Authenticity,’ held on the 9th of September, please get in contact with us.

All are welcome! We look forward to seeing you and hearing your thoughts once more!


Ethical Buying Checklist

The great team at the Antiquities Coalition have just released this helpful infographic, designed to guide casual buyers of cultural heritage (and perhaps the not-so-casual) into making ethical, responsible purchasing decisions.


Education is one of our greatest resources in the battle against antiquities looting and trafficking, so make sure to consult this checklist and the other informative tools provided by the AC!


– Lauren & Rachel

Lessons from the “Gospel of Jesus’ Wife” Affair

This post is not about the authenticity of the Gospel of Jesus Wife: it’s been fairly clear for some time, even leaving aside the multiple issues that have been raised about the GJW itself (especially, though not only, through Andrew Bernhard’s tireless efforts), that the accompanying Gospel of John fragment has multiple contraindications of authenticity; given that they appear to be in the same handwriting, it is extremely difficult (if not impossible) to construct a narrative in which the GJW is not also a modern forgery.

Rather, this post is about some the implications of the entire ‘Gospel of Jesus Wife affair’ which have become apparent since the public revelation that Walter Fritz was the owner of these papyri in the splendid piece by Ariel Sabar in the Atlantic.

Acquisition History, Provenance, and Ownership

This is something which Roberta Mazza has long been stressing, and which Carrie Schroeder highlighted immediately in the wake of the Atlantic article. This is a key lesson, but it’s important not to apply it only to papyri of disputed authenticity, but also to all papyri that do not have a clear archaeological provenance, especially those acquired after 1972 (the date of entry into force of the 1970 UNESCO Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property). There must be as full as possible transparency about how, and from where, papyri (and related textual artefacts) were acquired.

In her publication of the GJW in the Harvard Theological Review, Karen King provided far more information than most editors of papyri ever do: at most, editors have in the past usually only mentioned basic data, such as the date at which a papyrus entered the collection, and perhaps the dealer from whom it came. More frequently they have said nothing whatsoever about the artefact’s acquisition history. They have not usually included the text of relevant correspondence, or the descriptions of sale contracts; they certainly have not made such documents themselves available for public scrutiny. It is only in cases where the authenticity of a papyrus has been questioned, such as with the Artemidorus papyrus (which most scholars now think is genuine) that such details have been made available. In the case of the Gospel of Jesus’ Wife, there was consistent pressure for Karen King to release the scans of the accompanying documentation provided by Walter Fritz to authenticate the collection history of the Gospel of Jesus Wife: once they were available for checking, Ariel Sabar was able to show that, – as suspected by Christian Askeland and others – they actually raised further problems, as at least one of these documents appeared to be itself forged.

So, the lesson should be that all such material that establishes or speaks to provenance or acquisition history should be both detailed in editions, and made publicly available: maximum transparency is required. Yet not everyone is following this. The Museum of the Bible, for instance (which houses the ‘Green collection’ of textual artefacts), has consistently refused to release such documentation, claiming they are commercial-in-confidence, and that doing so would to damage their relationship with their sources. They are saying, in effect, “Trust us”: but many do not, and many will continue to not extend this trust while such information is not released. The Museum of the Bible is not alone in citing such considerations: The British Library once refused to show me an expenditures register that was over 100 years old, which showed not only the dates of acquisition (which are available in other registers on open shelves) but also the names and/or details of the sources of the papyri in it: this was withheld, I was told, because the Library does not say  how much it paid for items or to whom. Some collecting institutions now either make this information available, or provide it readily when asked: this should become standard practice.

Considerable criticism was leveled at Karen King for declining to identify the owner of the Gospel of Jesus’ Wife: yet when Geoffrey Smith presented an unpublished papyrus of the Gospel of John at the 2015 SBL Annual meeting, while rightly presenting images of the documentation which established the collection history of the papyrus, he also granted the owner anonymity, as did Dirk Obbink to the owner of the Sappho papyrus he published in 2014. Either granting an owner anonymity is OK, or it isn’t: it’s not only OK when it suits someone to argue it is, and not in other cases.

Ideally, there would be no anonymous collectors: if a collector wishes to have a papyrus published, then s/he should be prepared to be identified as its owner. Ideally too, there should be full transparency of acquisition history, with all the relevant documents available to anyone who wishes to check them. If anyone wants to collect papyri, they should be prepared to say how they acquired them, and allow people to check supporting documentation. Commercial considerations cannot be an excuse for obfuscating or refusing to release such material. And crucially, these considerations relate to all papyri, not just those of disputed authenticity, and all collections, not just private collections.

Disputed provenance does not = forgery

While problems with provenance documentation are a strong indicator that something is amiss, such does not automatically indicate that the item itself is a forgery. Papyrology contains many cases in which the acquisition history of a papyrus, or even of a bigger assemblage, is unclear, where multiple versions of the story exist, or where it is suspected that the story offered is not the full or even real story. The Chester Beatty, the Manichaean papyri said to be from Medinet Madi, the ‘Dishna papers’ mostly in the Bibliotheque Bodmer, and the Nag Hammadi library, all have provenance stories which are unclear, disputed, or in some cases probably or demonstrably invented. Provenance stories were routinely fabricated by dealers, looters, or middle-men to protect their source, and forgery of provenance is increasingly common – much more common, perhaps, than forgery of antiquities itself. What it usually indicates is that the item is not in accordance in some way with the 1970 UNESCO Convention. This does not mean such information should not be investigated, or that it is not important: just that it does not automatically mean that the artefact the document describes is a forgery, still less that the authenticity of every item in the collection is thereby under suspicion: nearly every papyrus collection contains forgeries.

Further Research

While the unmasking of the fragment’s owner has been widely heralded as the ‘end of the story’, it is also just the start of several much more interesting stories. Roberta Mazza’s work on provenance and the trade in papyri has been touched on above; Carrie Schroeder has discussed what the affair means for biblical studies and related fields in a forthcoming treatment (which she has kindly allowed me to read[update: now available here]) in a volume from the 2015 York Christian Apocrypha Symposium also featuring reflections by Mark Goodacre, James McGrath, and Janet Spittler, which promises to be an important contribution to the debate. Liv Ingeborg Lied has already offered valuable reflections on how online discussion affects the way these debates play out, both online, and at a recent conference at the University of Agder in Kristiansand which I had the pleasure of attending. There are many other examples of such self-reflexive research in press and online, and most of it is very valuable.

Along with these necessary discussions about the implications of this affair for the future of scholarship, one of the chief lessons of the entire affair was the necessity for further research on papyrus forgeries. None of the initial discussions of the papyrus (and here I explicitly include my own) compared it in detail to known forgeries. In part this was because the most commonly known class of papyrus forgeries discussed in the few previous treatments of the subject are nearly all nonsense scribbles, not even in real scripts or languages. Few of these treatments even mention the largest collection of forged papyri, those created by Constantine Simonides in the mid 19th century (though he has been referenced extensively in the debate over the Artemidorus papyrus, as its alleged fabricator). Research on forged papyri (including on the Simonides papyri) is now underway in several places, including work by teams from Macquarie University and the University of Agder (along with other Norwegian institutions), as well as Gregg Schwendner, Tommy Wasserman, and others. This research will not only help us understand papyrus forgeries better, but draw research onto forged papyri into alignment with research on forgery and fakes in many other disciplines.

No less than research on the palaeography, collection history, and the historiographical context of forged papyri, this case highlighted the necessity for further collaborative research with specialists in various analytical techniques, especially analysis of ink. One of the surprises for me was just how little we know about the composition of ancient ink: breezy statements such as ‘ink, the easiest thing to forge’, regularly made during discussion of these papyri, belie the fact there are significant gaps in our knowledge about how ancient inks were made. The holy grail is of course a way to date ink, but in advance of that, work from teams and scientists at Columbia University, Copenhagen, Berlin, and elsewhere, using various techniques (Ramen spectroscopy, XRF, SEM and others) promises to teach us much about a subject on which we know surprisingly less than we might have thought.


Finally, among the disquieting aspects of this affair was the tone evident in some of the discussion : language that was variously unfortunately chosen, polemical, hyperbolic, sexist, loaded, and sometimes wholly unnecessarily vicious was used on all sides of the debate. Not always, certainly, and assuredly not by everyone: but with noticeable frequency. The motives, backgrounds, affiliation (in academic, confessional, and socio-political terms) of some of the scholars involved in the debate was subject to imputation, implication, and worse. Carrie Schroder (in the in-press article I referred to above) and Eva Mroczek have highlighted some of these aspects of the debate, and the implications, but they bear further reflection. In part, this tone was a result of the debate playing out across the media and the internet, when anonymous commenting and the ability to say whatever comes into one’s head allow a far less regulated discussion (and here again the contributions of Liv Lied I mentioned above are important). Much of this democratisation of discussion is for the better; but this does not mean that the manner in which this debate was often conducted should model future such discussions.


Provenance and the papyri

At the 2015 Society of Biblical Literature Annual meeting in Atlanta, I took part in a panel entitled “Provenance in an eBay World: Does the Provenance of Ancient Artifacts Matter?”, organised by the SBL Student Advisory Board. The other panelists were Christine Thomas, Bob Kraft, and Sofia Torallos Tovar. The audience contained many people with different sorts of stakes in this debate, and there was an extremely interesting discussion after the four panelists had spoken. As I’m not going to publish my remarks on that day formally, I thought I’d put them here. I’ve edited the remarks below for style and clarity, in particular clarifying some aspects in response to questions and comments which made me realise I hadn’t been as clear as I might have been about what I believe, expanding a few points which I mentioned very briefly, and including some elements which I did not get the opportunity to address at all. But this is basically what I said:

As most people will know, I’ve worked on papyri with virtually every type of provenance: papyri excavated in archaeological context; in collections formed before and after 1972; and on papyri with disputed collection histories. So I think I have a broad range of perspectives to bring to bear on this discussion.

I am very pleased to see this forum at this meeting; I am pleased it is the student advisory board which is sponsoring it, which shows that the academy of the future is taking this issues seriously. I’ve noticed the same thing in the graduate Historiography seminar that I teach with Rachel Yuen-Collingridge at Macquarie, in which we teach a three week block on ethics, authenticity, archaeology, and the antiquities trade: students five years ago thought these issues were irrelevant; now they are taking them very seriously. You can also see the new prominence of the issue in abstracts and calls for papers for the annual meeting. In her remarks in this session, Christine Thomas stated that authenticity is the key issue, and I fully agree: the interrelated issues raised by questions of ethics and authenticity in the way we interact with antiquity, and the ancient material record are the key issues we have to deal with as scholars in the discipline.

The organisers of the Panel asked us: “Does provenance matter”? If this is reduced to a binary set of answers, then that answer must be yes. It always helps to know the precise context from which something comes; if things are to be taken from their original context it is always preferable by far that they be found in a controlled excavation rather than by looting or in an amateur treasure hunt. To turn that around, it is highly unsatisfactory to remove an item from its archaeological context in anything other than a proper excavation.

So, yes, provenance matters. However, there are some qualifications which should be made:

Firstly: what does “provenance” mean? In papyrology, the term commonly does not refer to where we know something was found, but where we think it must or might have been found, or where it might have been written. Content, prosopography, dialect, and collection history all provide clues which in many cases allow the assignment of secure, or relatively secure, provenance in papyrological terms. Many different sorts of examples could be provided of this: sometimes a term, name, or internal reference can show that a text must have been written in a certain location. Of course, they may not have been found there. At times, we can reasonably deduce where papyri were found, but some uncertainly remains: the fourth-century Melitian monastic archives of Paieous and Apa Nepheros were probably found in or near the monastery of Hathor, which the texts tell us was in the south of the Heracleopolite nome, near the village of Hipponon (modern Qarara); but the exact location of the monastery is unknown. Other archives were clearly found in certain locations, but they were not removed in controlled excavations: rather, they were found by locals, and sold on the antiquities market, such as the archives of Zenon (Philadelpheia / Gharabet el-Gerza), Heroninos (Theadelpheia / Batn el-Harit), Dioskoros (Aphrodito / Kom Ishgau). Some texts were found in what might be loosely called an “excavation”, but no records were kept of exactly where they were found: an example of this is the Coptic ostraca from the monastery of Phoibamon at Thebes (the so-called Deir el-Bahri, “northern monastery”, on the upper terraces of the mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut in the Theban necropolis) whose provenance was so poorly recorded (or, indeed, not recorded) by Edouard Naville that Crum, who first published many of them, had to deduce the fact that they came from there. In other cases, basic records were kept of the excavation of papyri, but no proper stratigraphy is known, such as with the Oxyrhynchus papyri, and relating papyri to each other in terms of exactly where they were found is very difficult.

So we can talk of these texts having a provenance in papyrological terms. But not in other terms, of course. What level of controlled excavation is necessary to talk about an artefact having “provenance”? I ask this genuinely.

Another qualification: Unprovenanced artefacts (in the “core” sense, that their find spot is not certainly known) can sometimes provide valuable information about the ancient world. The discourse that they tell us nothing, which has escaped from academic thought bubbles into popular culture, is both false and unfortunate. We know more about many sites in Egypt and the ancient near east from unprovenanced texts than we can ever know from archaeology, and it is faintly ridiculous to suggest otherwise.

There are some unfortunate consequences of the canonisation of the 1972 date of the entry into force of the 1970 UNESCO Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property. One is that the phrase “publishing unprovenanced artefacts” is now commonly taken to mean “publishing unprovenanced artefacts (which were acquired after 1972)”: objects acquired before 1972 are assumed to have a “provenance” for legal purposes. It is not uncommon to see phrases like “a secure pre-1972 provenance”, which can simply mean that the object was looted before 1972. Here there is more than the faint smell of the forgiveness of the terrible destruction and disruption of cultural heritage and traditions that colonialism engendered in many parts of the world. We are never well-served by white-washing the past, and with the best intentions in the world, this is what the fixation on 1972 as a border forms. Whatever one thinks about this larger issue (and in my own country at least there is a considerable body of public opinion which refuses to see any negative impact of colonialism), many artefacts acquired before 1972 have no sort of provenance at all, and thus the discourse which suggests they do merely helps to degrade a proper understanding of what “provenance” actually means.

There are thus two essential questions: what to do now, and what to do about the thousands (and probably hundreds of thousands) of unprovenanced post-1972 artefacts in public and private collections world wide. To take the second issue first: I support the upholding of the UNESCO convention, and the drawing of a line in the sand after which we should not acquire unprovenanced artefacts, or legitimate them by working on them. I do remain concerned that this consigns everything purchased by collecting institutions after 1972 to a limbo in which nothing is allowed to be published or discussed. This leaves these orphaned objects to languish in limbo: artefactual ghosts whose name dare not be spoken, acquired after a date which is arbitrary in that it does not relate to any event except the convention itself. In many senses, this line seems too distant, and the objects behind its curtain too many, to be profitable. But what is the alternative?

Within papyrology, this issue first came strongly to the fore in a special panel at the 2007 International congress of Papyrology at the University of Michigan Ann Arbor. Shortly thereafter the American Society of Papyrologists published a Resolution Concerning the Illicit Trade in Papyri, and the International association of Papyrologists formed a Working Party on the Commerce in Papyri which published recommendations. At Macquarie, we put an indefinite moratorium on the purchase of any papyri or related textual material. 2007 is probably too recent a line, is of course itself totally arbitrary, and can be easily suggested to be self-serving. But the point is that acquisitions of papyri over the past decade took place in a context in which these issues were well known in the field (unlike, say, in the 1970’s, when there was limited recognition of these issues with academia) and no one acquiring papyri at this time can claim otherwise. Nevertheless, there is no date beyond 1972 which makes any sense, and is any less arbitrary, than the date of the UN convention. We must have a date to enforce a system, and there is no other date which makes much if any sense.

In terms of the present and the future: What we certainly must do now as a guild is not trade in, publish, evaluate, or authenticate, antiquities which we suspect have come from source countries recently. So this directly effects scholarly participation in the antiquities trade, at any remove, be it working directly for a dealer to evaluate an artefact, or working on something a collector provides. In my view, the problem is not the trade of “post-1972 antiquities”: the problem is the antiquities trade. The dates of the various conventions have encouraged the proliferation of a flourishing industry forging pre-1972 provenance documents. Those who want the antiquities trade to continue must make positive arguments for its value to humanity, not just fall back either on its inevitability, or the attraction of owning antiquities; much less that it is a human right to possess them. Just because people like owning antiquities is no reason to continue the trade in them: people liked owning slaves, and ivory objects; at times in human history both seemed either inevitable consequences of the human condition or cherished rights, or indeed both. But both were swept away as humanity realised that neither were necessary, beneficial, or ethical. Please let no one make the simplistic reduction that I am comparing antiquities dealers or collectors to slave traders or ivory poachers: I am just pointing out that things can change, and inviting you to consider whether this one should too. It is all well and good to say that we need to train collectors to purchase only “provenanced” antiquities (which can mean as little as that they were looted before 1972) but so long as it is simple to forge a pre-1972 provenance, this does not seem a sustainable solution.

The ASOR  Policy on Professional conduct dispenses with a date with regard to one class of textual object, cuneiform tablets. The “cuneiform exception” is justified in the guidelines on three grounds.

  1. in zones of conflict since the early-1990s, most prominently in Iraq and Syria but also elsewhere, looting of cuneiform tablets has occurred on a truly massive scale;

  2. cuneiform texts may be authenticated more readily than other categories of epigraphic archaeological heritage;

  3. the content of a cuneiform text can provide information independent of archaeological provenience.

ASOR meetings and journals can consequently be the site of first publication of new cuneiform texts, subject to strict conditions, including that they be returned to their country of origin, if such is possible, after publication (the actual text is a good deal more complicated than that, as those who want to check the policy can see). If these guidelines were adopted by the SBL, could such a case be made for any other type of textual object. I guess the two main candidates would be papyri, parchment, and related material in Greek, Coptic, Hebrew and Aramaic from Egypt and the Dead Sea region, and inscriptions from the latter location. Inscriptions from Turkey and elsewhere might also be at issue. The third condition is fulfilled by virtually all textual artefacts, so is easily met. However, the fact that the authenticity of a considerable number of different types of text-bearing objects of different sorts in recent years strongly suggests that the authentication of these objects is not quite as straightforward as it is claimed to be in the case of cuneiform texts (I must admit I am not quite sure why this is a justification for the cuneiform exception, but to the extent that it prevents the publication of forgeries, it is a positive). And while there has been considerable unrest in Egypt, Israel, the occupied Palestinian territories, it cannot be realistically claimed to be on the scale and level as witnessed in Syria and Iraq. So, the cuneiform exception cannot provide a model for the publication of papyri from Egypt or parchment from the Dead Sea region.

In conduction with the antiquities trade, another issue readily presents itself for discussion: is it only the illegal antiquities trade which is fuelling looting? Or do the legal antiquities trade, museum exhibitions, and archaeology itself also contribute? I am not, naturally, putting all these issues on same moral level: I am merely asking if the sale of, say, a fragment of the New Testament on papyrus for a huge price from a “legal” collection acts as any less an incentive to a potential looter (or forger) than the sale of an unprovenanced piece? It is certainly true that discouraging the sale of unprovenanced antiquities makes it less attractive to loot artefacts by making it harder to sell them: but as long as there continues to be a thriving market in pieces from “old Swiss collections” (or similar), forging “pre-1972 provenances” remains relatively simple, strategies such as inserting more recently found texts in older collections remains possible, and there are scholars ready (and indeed eager) to legitimate this materials by working on it, then the incentive will remain. And there seems every likelihood that the current bibliomania for ancient books – especially Jewish and Christian scripture, where prices have reached previously unimaginable figures in the tens of millions – is driving not only looting, but also forgery.

So let us have these discussions: are we saving antiquities from terrorists, or enabling them by sending them money? Are we making sure antiquities end up in places where they will be cared for and cherished, or further swelling museum storerooms filled with hundreds or thousands of objects no one will ever see? Are we searching for material to better understand the antecedents of modern society, or destroying unique objects on the off-chance (which lies somewhere between minuscule and delusional) that fragments of Christian scripture will be found therein?

Provenance also matters in a wider sense: issues of how and where artefacts were found do not apply only to looting. This is not just a discussion about traded antiquities: archaeology itself it is not a separate issue. The provenance of something matters if it was excavated in occupied territory; if accommodations with dictatorial regimes were made to allow its excavation; if the manner in which its excavators conduct themselves serves to carry forward and reinforce colonial mentalities and power structures. We also need to recognise that archaeological work sometimes serves to tell the looters where to look. Most of these things do not apply to most archaeological missions; but when they do, we need to consider them as part of the discussion. Too often, the discussion is configured as one between archaeologists, nobly saving the past for the future, and those who study textual or other artefacts (but especially the former), who are at times depicted as enabling the evil of the antiquities trade. To be sure, one encounters with depressing frequency comments which indicate that preserving the text for the future is all that matters, with all other consideration secondary. And most archaeologists do not take an irksome self-righteous tone or perpetuate colonialism with their attitude to current inhabitants of he lands in which they dig. But this dichotomy lies underneath the surface, and is, to say the least, unhelpful.

Papyrology, and manuscript collection in general, has been one of the problem areas in this issue, with regular purchases of papyri on the antiquities market, right down to recently, and transparently continuing. Papyrology has many issues to deal with in this regard, and I will promise to work, along with others, on dealing with them, if those in other fields promise to encourage a more self-reflexive attitude among all their members, and address some of the ethical issues which seem apparent to those of us outside. It is a discussion I look forward to participating in.

Malcolm Choat

The “value” of authenticity in the antiquities market

Involving countless stakeholders from across the globe, the modern trade of antiquities is an international concern and is estimated to be worth billions of dollars. At the heart of this market are the objects that offer the contemporary world a tangible connection with their past, often inciting criminal activity in a desire to possess – or profit from – them. Antiquities and their perceived value drive the supply and demand relations of the modern antiquities market, therefore examining what factors create this “value” is crucial to the understanding of this trade.

It is, of course, implied by posting this reflection on a blog titled “Markers of Authenticity” that there is a relationship between value and authenticity in the antiquities market. However, the nature and extent of this relationship is worthy of examination, especially considering how perceptions of authenticity are undeniably the most powerful influence on perceptions of value. In the words of Dr. Donna Yates – Lecturer in Antiquities Trafficking and Art Crime – authenticity, or lack thereof, is the “dealbreaker” when trading any antiquities, especially those associated with the ancient world (Yates, 2015).

Fakes and forgeries circulate in the antiquities market, especially prolific amongst the trade of Asian artefacts. And unlike obvious fake iPhones or Louis Vuitton clutches, forged artefacts are often of such impressive quality and construction that they are capable of fooling experts. Famous forgeries earn their status through association with scholars, dealers and institutions who asserted their legitimacy, often to the detriment of their own reputations.

The ubiquity of these false antiquities casts serious doubts over the legitimacy of the antiquities market, and this doubt is now being utilised by law enforcement agencies seeking to intervene with illicit trafficking of antiquities. This policing strategy is one I wish to examine deeper in another post; however, it is worth mentioning briefly now in relation to the value of authenticity.

A handful of art-theft agencies or equivalents, including the French and Mexican authorities, have utilised this tactic that involves publicly announcing an investigation into the authenticity of objects placed at an upcoming public auction. In all cases so far, these allegations have managed to significantly lower the expected yield of the auctions, confirming the importance of the relationship between authenticity and value and illustrating how doubt can be used to shape the market.

In response to these doubts and concerns, there is a rhetoric of authenticity visible throughout the entire antiquities market, from the most established antiquarian institutions to the humblest eBay numismatics dealer. This rhetoric varies in sophistication, often associated with the perceived value of the artefact at hand: the more costly the artefact has the potential of being, the more money and time is invested in asserting the authenticity to positively influence the value of an artefact. For the most part, these authenticating strategies range from simple linguistic assertions of authenticity – e.g. “authentic” or “genuine” – to appeals to legitimacy involving the testimonials of “experts”: usually antiquarians, museum curators, scholars and scientists.

Assurance of authenticity is also somewhat attained by the inclusion of provenance, as it theoretically provides a chain of connoisseurship, implying that the more “experts” that handle an artefact, the greater chance a fake would be identified. Provenance and its relationship with authenticity, however, is an issue worthy of its own post due to the complex issues associated there. Briefly, provenance can be, and is often, forged, thus doing little to contribute to a sense of legitimacy and authenticity.

Finally, although less common in the “grey market” (Brodie, 2012), but still worthy of mentioning, is the practice of photographing artefacts in situ or in transit to confirm their authenticity (and criminal activity!). The use of “authenticity photos” can easily be demonstrated by high profile illicit antiquities cases, such as the archives of photos compiled by Italian art dealers Becchina and Medici which were used to prove their illegal activity in a court of law. But these are not isolated incidents and, despite the obvious risk involved, authenticity photos are often utilised to assert legitimacy and enhance the financial value of antiquities. This practice in particular reveals the dissonance that lies at the core of antiquities dealer practices– the risk to prove authenticity is worthwhile due to its exponential influence on the value of antiquities. Without authenticity, the artefact is without “value”.

Authenticity, however, is not the only factor that determines the perceived value of an object presented on the antiquities market and it is worthwhile considering these other factors, which are ultimately superseded by any doubts of authenticity. The antiquities market is also driven by concerns of beauty and function and – to a much lesser extent – legality.

Beauty is an obvious factor, considering the majority of artefacts are purchased with the intention of display and other visual purposes. Closely related is the potential sex appeal of an artefact, with a focus on anything “salacious and titillating” (Yates, 2015) and anything with emotional appeal, especially items of religious significance. Value is also attained through an object’s pop appeal, related to the fame of a collector or associated museum, or through association with any significant archaeological discoveries. Rarity is also an obvious factor in determining the value of an antiquity and to a lesser extent, so is its potential legality, depending on the motivations of the individual collectors. All of these qualities, however, are null and void without being able to accurately authenticate an antiquity. As previously stated, authenticity is the “dealbreaker” in the antiquities market.

But why so much emphasis on authenticity? Most collectors are motivated by a desire to possess a tangible connection to the past and this connection cannot be achieved if the object symbolising it is false. Modern interference, including restoration and forgery, substantially devalues and undermines the authenticity of ancient artefacts because they are perceived to be “less” ancient. In other words, authenticity is what legitimises this highly sought after connection more than an object’s beauty, emotional appeal or rarity.

This fixation on authenticity can sometimes be damaging to the resolution of the numerous ethical, legal and moral issues associated with the antiquities trade. For instance, there is an emerging trend to replace museum displays –especially those with contentious ownership – with replica artefacts, facilitated by new technologies such as of 3D-printing. Theoretically, these replicas could offer a solution to the ongoing debate over the ownership of cultural property, ultimately allowing those in the Universalism camp to fulfill their desire to make antiquities available to all people equally. However, in practice these replicas are deemed unworthy and are unable to attract the popularity, esteem and financial support that “real” antiquities do, and thus the pressure remains on museums and other institutions to acquire the most authentic and highest quality artefacts they are capable of sourcing.


The relationship between “value” and authenticity in the antiquities market is just one part of a multi-faceted and nebulous discussion that will be hosted on the Markers of Authenticity blog. Please join in on the discussion either by attending one of our upcoming seminars, or by starting a dialogue via this blog or my personal email:

– Lauren Dundler



Brodie, N. (2012), ‘Uncovering the antiquities market’, in R. Skeates, C. McDavid and J Carman (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Public Archaeology (Oxford: Oxford University Press), 230 – 252.

Brodie, N. (2014), ‘The antiquities market: it’s all in a price’, Heritage and Society 7(1): 32 – 46.

Yates, D. (2015), ‘Value and doubt’: the persuasive power of “authenticity” in the antiquities market’. PARSE 2: 71 – 84.



Welcome to ‘Markers of Authenticity’!

As an overarching set of interests and a research program, this grew out of a Historiography unit, which Rachel developed, Malcolm also taught in, and Lauren took, in the course of which we recognised our joint interests in the wider themes we’ll be pursuing here. One aspect of this was expressed in an application on forged papyri submitted to the Australian Research Council (on which we’ll say more in due course), but that forms only one aspect of a much larger question, which explicitly and designedly reaches out beyond our home disciplines of Ancient History, Papyrology, and Coptic Studies to see both what we can learn, and what we might offer.

We launched the research program at Macquarie last week with a seminar Rachel gave. In introducing the session, I reflected on the fact that in universities throughout the world, we are called to interdisciplinarity, transdisciplinarity, and cross-disciplinarity. We are told that this brings innovation. But less often are we told how or why this is so: we are asked to trust. And we do believe; indeed, we believed already. Yet even as we believe, we can question the directions we are recommended to follow. True interdisciplinarity does not arise from predetermined or pre-populated groups; it does not arise from being told there are particular ways it should be accomplished; it does not arise from pre-ordained issues. It arises from people with common interests meeting, and seeing where their discussions take them.

It needs a forum, and a core to form around.

We hope to provide two forums: one, this blog; the other, a seminar series hosted at Macquarie University in Sydney, the program of which may be found on this blog. And we hope to have identified a potential core.

Issues of authenticity, trust, veracity, accuracy, reliability, genuineness; these cut across the disciplines, expressing themselves in different ways, in different questions, from different perspectives. These ask us questions about how our various disciplines relate – within the Humanities, creative arts, and social sciences, and beyond. Most crucially, they ask us how the wider public, the world at large, engages with the issues that we muse, publish, and debate on. This latter issue is crucial, just as the Humanities must engage more directly with the public, so too must history: the distance from our sources cannot map onto a distance from those who fund and sustain us. If ‘impact’ is too blunt a term, the value and benefit of the humanities must be projected and explained better.

And we hope to think about ways in which we might do that as we examine issues of authenticity in this series. From the way we conceptualise authorship and performance, through the way we engage with issues of cultural heritage and assess the transmission of traditions, to the ways in which we present our visions of the past and our interpretations of the present to our peers and the public. From the realia of material objects, their provenance, looting, acquisition, collection, display, status, and connection to communities living and past; to more abstract – but no less important – reflections on the role of memory and the mind in mediating our view of the past, near or distant; from the application of such models in the present day, to the examination of copying practice and authorising strategies of long-dead scribes.

If this sounds like it’s about everything, that’s because it is meant to be so: an issue around which many people can come together, hear about each other’s interests, and have discussions about what it means for our research, for our disciplines, for the University sector, and for our relationship with the public. We need to provoke conversations within and beyond our home disciplines, and hope to do that by raising issues about authenticity, conceived from a diverse range of perspectives, and articulated via a range of different topics.

We could explain this all a lot better, but we’ll leave this first post here, and leave further explanations to future posts. On the ‘About’ page you’ll find a fuller discussion of our interests; and on the ‘Seminars’ page, a list of the seminars in the ‘Markers of Authenticity’ seminar series being held at Macquarie in the first half of the year. More posts to follow!


– Malcolm Choat