The Museum of West African Art (Mowaa) and the row over Nigeria’s Benin Bronzes

Nigeria’s stunning new Museum of West African Arts (Mowaa) found itself in the crosshairs of local power politics in the week it was supposed to open its doors to the public for the first time, but failed.

The six-hectare (15-acre) campus is located in the heart of Benin City, the capital of southern Edo State, and includes archaeological digs and buildings designed by prominent British-Ghanaian architect Sir David Adjaye, best known for the National Museum of African American History and Culture that opened in Washington in 2016.

The work has taken five years and is envisioned to celebrate both the past and present of creativity in the region famous for the Benin Bronzes, works of art looted from the city’s royal palace in the 19th century by British soldiers.

It’s impressive — and ahead of its planned opening, Mowa was buzzing with staff determined to prove it was a place that could rival the West’s established museums and galleries.

Conservators inside carefully unwrapped the artworks from their protective packaging, inspected each piece and took careful records before placing them on the walls and plinths.

Technicians adjusted the climate control systems. In the Materials Science Laboratory, officers calibrated equipment dedicated to preserving centuries-old artifacts.

The project was the brainchild of businessman Philip Iheanacho – now CEO of Mowaa.

“I want us to have a significant economic impact on the local communities here,” he told the BBC, adding that he hopes to make Benin City a “cultural destination.”

Mowa, a Nigerian non-profit, sees it creating more than 30,000 direct and indirect jobs and contributing more than $80 million (£60 million) annually to the regional creative economy through partnerships and programmes.

It took $25 million (£19 million) to get here, money raised from various donors, including the French and German governments, the British Museum, and the Edo State government.

But the local government has now pulled the rug out from under it and canceled the use of the land on which the museum was built.

An Edo State spokesperson told the BBC that this was because the state called itself the Edo Museum of West African Art in the original paperwork, and has since dropped the word “Edo” from its name.

The announcement came after protests on Sunday, when people stormed the campus demanding that it be named the Royal Museum of Benin.

A rowdy group insulted foreign guests at the museum before the opening, forcing them to quickly move away under police guard.

President Bola Tinubu even intervened to try to resolve the tensions, setting up a high-level committee to do some damage control.

But how did this matter become so politicized and such a public relations disaster?

Much of it is due to fierce rivalries at the local state level, where former Edo Governor Godwin Obaseki – whose term ended last year – was the museum’s main supporter.

It appears that the administration of the new ruler, a close ally of the local traditional ruler, known as the Oba, may want to take a larger stake in the project. For example, protesters on Sunday demanded that the museum be placed under the control of Oba Ewuare II.

This highlights the controversial issue surrounding the Benin Bronzes, one of Africa’s most famous cultural treasures.

Because even if the museum eventually opens, these bronzes will be conspicuously absent.

They are sculptures made of copper, ivory and wood that decorated the royal palace of the Kingdom of Benin before they were looted by British soldiers in 1897 during a punitive expedition.

Today, thousands remain scattered in museums in Europe and North America – including the British Museum, the Humboldt Forum in Berlin, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Their return has become one of the most controversial discussions in the international art world. About 150 of them have now returned home, with more set to follow.

When plans for a museum in Benin City were first announced in 2019, influencers in Nigeria’s art scene hoped it would become their natural home — a state-of-the-art complex to show the world.

But things got muddy two years ago after the federal government declared that the Oba would be the rightful owner and guardian of any bronzes returned — and pushed the palace to set up a museum under the direct control of the royal family, against the wishes of Obaseki, the former ruler.

This left Mowa in a delicate position: asserting a clear position on restitution while maintaining diplomacy on guardianship – and emphasizing her broader vision, resulting in the dropping of the word “Edo” from her name.

“One of the frustrations I always had was that we said from the beginning that we were going to focus on modern and contemporary,” Iheanacho said.

“But because of the Western story about the return of the Benin bronzes, everyone kept referring to us as the museum they were going to. The problem with that is that we are not the owners, and we have no legal right to the bronzes.”

Its goal is to build a haven for contemporary African creativity, including film, photography, music, dance and fashion – not just visual art.

“Yes, we want to focus on history, but the goal is to inspire the contemporary,” he said.

“What we have become is a museum that is about creating an ecosystem to support creative people in West Africa.”

From a young Nigerian artist who moved from the United States to work as a conservator, to a recent graduate undergoing a mandatory one-year National Youth Service programme, to a Ghanaian doctoral candidate conducting research, Mowa has already become a hub for regional cooperation.

Eweka Success, a 23-year-old sculpture graduate from the University of Benin who toured Mowa, welcomed the opportunity.

He noted that although many city residents “don’t care” about redemption conversations, the museum still offers something of value.

He told the BBC: “Many of us have never seen the originals before, but there we can study their design, technology and history more closely.”

Cultural specialist Oluwatoyin Sogbesan agrees that the conversation is becoming increasingly elitist.

She told the BBC: “Ordinary people care about earning a living, going to work, feeding their families. Many don’t even know about bronzes.”

For her, recovery must go beyond simply returning artifacts, to also include the recovery of memory and language.

“We need to decolonize the term ‘Benin Bronze’ itself,” she explained.

“Call them by their original name in Edo – “Emoen Are” [meaning ‘Cultural Things’] “What would the people who made it have called it?”

This is something that would fit in with the museum’s inaugural exhibition – Homecoming – should it open to the public.

It features works by renowned artists such as Yinka Shonibare, Toyin Ojih Odutola, Precious Okoyomon, and Tunji Adeniyi-Jones – many of whom live in the diaspora and rarely exhibit their work in Nigeria.

Of prestige is the Shonibare Monument for the Restoration of Mind and Spirit – a pyramid-shaped unit housing more than 150 clay replicas of Benin bronze statues.

“Creating a memorial like this is an acknowledgment of the trauma caused by the looting of these spiritual artefacts,” he told the BBC. “It’s a deep emotional engagement with the trauma of the invasion.”

He deliberately chose clay, as a metaphor for his connection to the land of Benin itself.

“In the modern world, we seem to have become increasingly distant from nature, whereas our ancestors had a deep connection to and respect for it.”

The pyramid evokes the wonders of ancient Africa while the replicas speak of absence and memory.

“The work is conceptual, and revolves around the meaning of absence and the spiritual meaning of bronze statues,” Shonibare explained. “In a way, the work is cathartic. It’s almost mourning.”

Also of interest is Ndidi Dike’s 2016 multimedia work “National Grid,” which reflects on power, both electrical and political.

Nigerians experience power outages so frequently that they have become an accepted part of daily life – a metaphor Dike uses to question the country’s broader failures in governance and infrastructure.

This is likely to resonate well with those working at Mowaa this week.

Although they may be encouraged by the words of the Minister of Culture, who heads the presidential committee that wants to resolve the conflict.

“Cultural institutions are pillars of our national identity and must be protected through collaborative approaches that respect traditional custodianship and modern institutional structures,” Hanatu Musua said.

There are fears that the dispute could harm ongoing efforts to recover stolen art in Africa, as Western museums feel justified in their concerns about preserving recovered works.

But many working within Mowa’s walls remain determined to show that their creativity can redefine what a modern African museum can be — with or without historical artifacts.