Paris is no stranger to hosting grand ceremonies and global gatherings, but this year’s UNESCO Africa Week came with a bold twist—one that wasn’t just about showcasing art, culture, or colorful dance performances. It was about unfinished business, long-standing demands, and a swelling chorus from African leaders: give it back. And by “it,” they mean the thousands of cultural artifacts and sacred objects that were looted, borrowed, or simply plundered during colonial rule and have since decorated the halls of European museums.
Held every May, Africa Week typically celebrates the continent’s diversity, resilience, and creativity. But in 2025, the theme was unmistakably political. From formal addresses to side events brimming with tension, the question of restitution hovered like a restless ghost. For too long, critics say, Europe has treated African heritage as trophies of conquest or curiosities of a bygone world. This year, African diplomats and cultural custodians were making it crystal clear: enough is enough.
Leading the charge was Benin’s delegation, still basking in the momentum of receiving 26 royal treasures from France in 2021. President Patrice Talon’s cultural envoy delivered a rousing speech that framed restitution not as a diplomatic favor, but as a moral imperative. “These are not objects,” she said. “They are pieces of our soul. Until they return, we are a people scattered.”
The applause was loud—but not unanimous. While some European institutions have warmed up to the idea of returning stolen heritage, others remain wrapped in legal red tape, insurance nightmares, and political paralysis. The British Museum, for example, is still in possession of the Benin Bronzes despite mounting pressure. Germany has made more decisive strides, repatriating hundreds of artifacts to Nigeria. France, though slow and selective, has at least acknowledged that many of its holdings were acquired under dubious circumstances.
That acknowledgement is more than symbolic. It’s the beginning of a tectonic shift in how the West relates to Africa—not just as a development project or a geopolitical chessboard, but as an equal partner with a rightful claim to its own past. The trouble is, some museums continue to drag their feet, hiding behind national legislation or mumbling about “universal heritage.” Critics call it heritage-washing: the art world’s version of greenwashing, where noble-sounding arguments mask a refusal to part with prized exhibits.
During the Africa Week panels, there was no shortage of fire. From Senegal’s Museum of Black Civilizations to Ethiopia’s National Museum, curators painted vivid pictures of what it means to reclaim history on your own soil. Nigerian speakers referenced the newly built Edo Museum of West African Art in Benin City, which is being designed specifically to house returned artifacts. Others pointed to grassroots movements, where local communities are building shrines and cultural centers to prepare for the day their ancestors’ belongings come home.
But restitution isn’t just about objects in glass cases. It’s about sovereignty, dignity, and the right to tell your own story. Scholars from the Congo and Mali highlighted how colonial theft extended beyond art to include religious relics, manuscripts, and even human remains. The debate, they argued, must go beyond aesthetics and into the spiritual and epistemological realms.
UNESCO, for its part, tried to strike a balancing tone. Director-General Audrey Azoulay acknowledged the pain of dispossession and reaffirmed the agency’s commitment to facilitating dialogue. Still, she stopped short of pushing for mandatory returns, choosing instead to highlight “constructive cooperation.” For some African participants, that sounded like an elegant euphemism for more delays. One delegate was overheard muttering, “We don’t need more roundtables. We need round-trip tickets—for our artifacts.”
Meanwhile, younger voices brought a different energy to the room. From Angolan fashion designers to Ghanaian poets, there was a sense that restitution wasn’t just about looking back, but about fueling the future. “Give us our past so we can design the future,” said a Cameroonian digital artist who’s been reconstructing looted artifacts using 3D models. It was a powerful reminder that Africa’s cultural revival is not a charity case—it’s an engine for innovation, pride, and economic development.
Some European attendees seemed genuinely moved. Others nodded politely. A few left early. But whether they liked it or not, Africa’s message was loud and clear: the age of polite requests is over. This is the era of cultural justice—and the invoice is decades overdue.
UNESCO Africa Week closed with music, laughter, and plenty of wine. But beneath the festivities lingered a quiet resolve. For African nations, the party only ends when the last mask, statue, and sacred drum finds its way home. And this time, they’re not just asking nicely. They’re demanding delivery.
