The Warka Vase with diagram of full piece. The Warka Vase or the Uruk Vase is a carved alabaster stone vessel found in the temple complex of the Sumerian goddess Inanna in the ruins of the ancient city of Uruk, located in the modern Al Muthanna Governorate, in southern Iraq. Like the Narmer Palette from Egypt, it is one of the earliest surviving works of narrative relief sculpture, dated to ca. 3,200–3,000 BCE. - Wikipedia
A Story of Alabaster
So much were our daily lives affected by the events of September 11, 2001 that we often do not even recognize how different our civilizations became. The destruction of the World Trade Center that morning changed humanity. It seems, when I think back upon my life, that day has become the nexus for all events prior and following. All of our history was destroyed in aeronautic pyrotechnics, broken forever, and we, the survivors, are left to put the pieces back together. We try desperately to restore what we lost, but realize that it will never be the same, the cracks still show, some pieces still missing. It is almost as if our planet itself, the Middle East in particular, was a fragile artifact smashed in a rage of looting and vandalism. Who even knows what the reasons were for all this chaos? We have the official explanation, but it does no good in revitalizing our psyche, we notice the flaws now prevalent in our world.
As a direct result of “9/11”, the United States, along with many other nations, invaded the country of Iraq. The motives were simple: eliminate a threat of weapons of mass destruction and take down Saddam Hussien, freeing the people of the country from a brutal dictatorship. “Shock and Awe” became the catch phrase of the month. Unfortunately, we were in haste, and that haste led to the country of Iraq devolving into a state of complete anarchy. In times of lawlessness and desperation, people will do just about anything. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, and taken part. One of these moments, the looting of the Iraq Museum in April of 2003, will most likely be remembered by many US soldiers as an unfortunate, though insignificant action by a country’s own people. They will most likely look back on the events and think about how stupid it was to guard some clay pots when the very people who they belonged to were the ones destroying and stealing them. As a veteran, I look back on my time in service, especially in Iraq, with reluctance. I understand the emotions behind the violence, but though I once reveled in the chaos, I feel a deep sadness when I think about how much was lost in all of it. One of the treasures looted from the Iraq Museum, the Warka Vase (or Uruk Vase), was fortunately recovered months later, though in pieces. Like the continuing effort to restore a broken country, its pieces were mended to try and make whole a shattered treasure, but it will never be like it once was.
This was not the first time the piece had seen conflict. Its rough alabaster surface could reveal to us the misguided ambitions of centuries of rulers, the hopes and fears of civilizations lost in sand and time. If only it could speak to us, to tell us of our continued human mistakes, the repetition of violence, and the division of peoples. It would talk of its birth, during fourth century BCE, in the kingdom of ancient Sumeria. How devout was its creator as he delicately chiseled and smoothed the stone in holy labor for the great goddess Innana. How proud he was when it was finally finished and presented to the king. As a noble smile spread across his patriarch’s face, he knew that he had done well. How amazing the detail in the reeds of the Euphrates and Tigris, the likeness of the profiles of sheep and oxen, the magnificence of the nude male worshippers and, finally, the glory of Innana herself, pleased with her offerings and bestowing grace upon all who accompanied this registered processional. No piece like it had ever been made.
Like most kingdoms of the time, however, the Sumerian one ended in violence. The temple complex which the vase called home was looted and destroyed, Innana defaced and the artifact smashed. There it lay until another ancient artist found it and repaired it. Once again, the vase could display its beauty, its teachings and history to those who were lucky enough to catch a glimpse. Unfortunately, once again the vase was the victim of another conflict. The new master’s reign came to an end, and again it was destroyed.
It laid in ruin until 1934, when German Assyriologists discovered it during an excavation near the modern day village of Warka, its new namesake. Never had an older piece of such refined narrative relief been found. It became a testament in time, a twin put on display in Berlin where once again mankind could gaze upon its brilliance, and the vase itself remaining in what would become Iraq.
In the Iraq Museum, the Warka Vase was collected with other great works of art. It’s voice combined with the rest of the artifacts to tell of the collected history of Mesopotamia. All the victories and defeats, the celebrations and the mourning, the records of godlike rulers and enchanting deities that blended together over millennia to create the Middle East we know today. That is, until April of the year 2003 CE. The people had still not learned from their mistakes. They were angry and confused, and in a day of rage they took out their frustrations on their own history. The doors to the museum were unprotected, and after being easily forced open the rioters then smashed display cases, knocked over pedestals, grabbed whatever they could lay their hands on to bring them fortune in their desperation. The Warka vase was ripped from its base. Knocked to the floor, it cried out in desperation as its kidnappers dragged it out of the museum and into the trunk of a red Toyota. In the aftermath of the looting, thousands of relics like the vase were found to be missing. The United States soldiers who were supposed to protect these objects did nothing. They stood by as a people destroyed and looted their very culture, but perhaps they had more of a part in this story than what would appear.
The soldiers were supposed to uphold a treaty that, perhaps, none of them knew anything about. As a soldier, I was never taught anything about the Hague Protocol, which states that:
Each High Contracting Party undertakes to prevent the exportation, from a territory occupied by it during an armed conflict, of cultural property as defined in Article 1 of the Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict, signed at The Hague on 14 May 1954.
These soldiers were bound by international law to protect the artifacts from being looted, yet did nothing to prevent it. In fact, some of the soldiers probably thought about going in and taking some booty for themselves.
Fortunately, the Warka Vase has a knack for returning to a place where it can tell its stories. In June of 2003, three men in a red Toyota drove to the Iraq Museum amnesty point. All looters were given a chance to return the objects stolen that day with no consequences. Wrapped in blankets in the back of the vehicle were the shattered pieces of the vase. It had once again returned to be mended and displayed. History had tried once again to silence it, but the Warka Vase, with its conceptual narrative design, had somehow found its way back to a place of honor where it belonged. The Hague Protocol, though a very poignant example of international cooperation, had failed to prevent the destruction and theft of the artifacts in the Iraq Museum. The Warka Vase was returned and restored. Many are still missing and still others are damaged beyond repair. Had the United States soldiers been properly briefed, or their commanders taken the initiative to act, then perhaps this tragedy could have been deterred.
The loss of cultural objects during times of conflict is perhaps an even greater travesty than war itself. The fallout of violence continues to replicate itself in societies because humanity never learns from previous mistakes. History becomes entangled in doctrine and fantasy, and we create new pasts that seem to suit our needs better than the realistic. I believe it is because of this fact that the Hague Protocol is so important, and can be carried out if leaders and their people have the patience and discipline to uphold its words. If we are like the people of the past, destroying and claiming societies as spoils of war, then what does that say about our advancement as humanity? Are we truly civilized, or are we just repeating the same patterns of downfall that the ancient kingdoms were doomed to? These are deep concerns that must not be ignored. Only in understanding the past can we know who we are, and what we might be destined to become should we not pay attention to the lessons of history. We must protect our collective human heritage, at all cost.
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