Repatriation has become one of the defining conversations for the heritage sector in recent years. Across Europe, governments and museums are returning objects taken during colonial expansion to the countries and communities from which they came. The Netherlands’ decision earlier this year to return more than a hundred Benin Bronzes to Nigeria was a landmark moment. It followed similar commitments in Germany, Belgium and the UK, and reflects a growing sense that ethical custodianship is about more than preserving artefacts. It is about addressing the imbalance of power that shaped the collections in the first place.
The physical return of objects has clear symbolic and practical importance, but digital technology has introduced a new dimension to this debate. Museums are increasingly turning to digital surrogates such as high-resolution scans, 3D models and virtual exhibitions as a way to provide access to items that are difficult or impossible to move. This approach has its merits. Digitisation can widen access, allowing global audiences to view material that would once have been confined to a storeroom. It can support conservation by reducing handling and provide new opportunities for interpretation. Yet it also raises questions about ownership, control and intent. Does making a digital copy amount to restitution, or does it risk becoming a convenient substitute for genuine return?
This tension lies at the heart of a thought-provoking essay by Dr Sarah Bond, Digitization ≠ Repatriation, published in 2018 and still highly relevant today. Bond argues that while digital humanities projects can expand access, they should never be mistaken for acts of restitution. Making a scan or a 3D model does not alter the underlying relationship between the institution holding the artefact and the community from which it came. The physical object remains in the same hands and the power to decide how it is displayed or interpreted remains unchanged. Digital access, she writes, is not a form of justice; it is a tool that must be used within an ethical framework.
Recent discussions have continued this line of thought. In early-2025 Eyob Derillo and Alexander Herman posed a simple but important question: can sharing digital copies equate to restitution? Writing about objects taken from Ethiopia, they noted that while digital access can be valuable, it cannot replace the act of return. A digital copy is a representation, not the item itself. For many communities, the physical presence of an artefact carries spiritual, historical or cultural meaning that cannot be reproduced by pixels or scans. The emotional connection to an object and its role in local identity are bound up in its material reality.
Yet there is also recognition that digital tools have a legitimate and sometimes transformative role in the process of restitution. Derillo and Herman’s chapter in Mobile Heritage – Digital Mobilisation: A Just Restitution? – explores how technology can empower source communities to engage with and challenge traditional custodianship. Digital mobilisation enables communities to document their claims, build online archives and assert their right to cultural property in international forums. It is not restitution in itself, but it can be part of a process that restores agency to those whose heritage has been displaced. The digital environment becomes a space for negotiation and visibility, especially when physical repatriation is slow or challenging politically.
This idea of shared or distributed custodianship is gaining momentum. Museums are increasingly exploring ways to co-curate their digital collections with representatives from source communities. In some cases, digital platforms allow multiple voices to interpret an object, presenting alternative perspectives that might once have been excluded from the official record. This can help shift authority from the institution to a more collaborative model, even if the physical object remains where it is. Yet this approach demands sensitivity and sincerity. Token consultation or superficial partnerships risk repeating old patterns of control under the guise of digital inclusion.
The recent repatriations from the Netherlands illustrate both the opportunities and the limitations of digital methods. In returning more than a hundred Benin Bronzes to Nigeria, the Dutch authorities worked closely with Nigerian curators to establish terms for display and custodianship. Digital copies were created not as replacements but as records, ensuring ongoing access for researchers and the public. This balance between returning ownership and maintaining global visibility demonstrates how digital tools can complement ethical practice when used transparently and collaboratively.
At the same time, there are concerns about the potential misuse of digital substitutes. If a museum creates and retains digital versions of repatriated objects, who controls the use of those images? Can they be monetised through licensing or commercial exhibitions? What happens if the source community disagrees with how its heritage is represented online? Ethical custodianship must extend beyond the physical object to encompass the data that describes it too. Without clear agreements and shared governance, digital replication risks becoming another form of appropriation.
The broader issue is one of trust. For many institutions, digitisation projects are driven by a genuine desire to share and preserve culture. But for communities seeking restitution, the history of unequal power relations cannot be ignored. When museums offer digital access as a substitute for return, it can appear as if they are clinging on to control. Ethical custodianship, by contrast, recognises that sharing heritage means sharing authority. It involves listening to those for whom these objects are more than academic curiosities and ensuring that their voices shape how collections are managed, both online and in physical space.
Digital repatriation, if approached carefully and thoughtfully, can help build these relationships. It can connect institutions and communities across continents, create dialogue and prepare the ground for physical restitution. It can also help museums confront uncomfortable histories by exposing their collections to broader scrutiny. The key is honesty about what digital engagement can and cannot achieve. Technology can enhance access and collaboration, but it cannot be a substitute for justice or return. The future of ethical custodianship will not be determined by technology alone. It will depend on the willingness of institutions to share authority, to act transparently and to treat digital access as part of a broader commitment to restitution. When used responsibly, digitisation can illuminate histories and build connections. When used carelessly, it risks repeating the very inequalities it seeks to address. The challenge for museums is to ensure that their digital strategies serve the same moral purpose as their physical actions: to return heritage to its rightful context, and to the people who give it meaning.
Sources
Digitization ≠ Repatriation: When Digital Humanities Provides Access But Not Restitution (18-Jun-18)
The Netherlands returns 113 Benin (20-Feb-25)
https://www.theartnewspaper.com/2025/02/20/netherlands-return-benin-bronzes-nigeria
Nigeria’s museum agrees with royal ruler on custody of Benin Bronzes (26-Feb-25)
‘Digital mobilisation: A just restitution?’ from ‘Mobile Heritage : Practices, Interventions, Politics’ (22-Apr-25)
Art Fund to launch £5m project for UK museums to share their collections (07-May-25)
https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2025/may/07/art-fund-project-uk-museums-share-collections
Netherlands returns more than 100 Benin Bronzes to Nigeria (19-Jun-25)
Can sharing digital copies equate to restitution? (July 2025)
Social and Telepresence Robots for Accessibility and Inclusion in Small Museums (08-Aug-25)