According to new French legislation adopted on May 7, the conditions are now in place for the possible return to Athens of at least some of the Parthenon fragments housed in the Louvre, according to an article in the French newspaper Le Monde by lawyer and researcher at the French National Center for Scientific Research (CNRS), Katerina Titi.

In her article, Titi argues that although much attention has been given to President Macron’s 2017 pledge concerning the return of cultural heritage to sub-Saharan Africa, the issue of looted antiquities — whether Egyptian, Greek, Etruscan, or Roman — has long remained taboo in France. She describes the French Parliament’s final adoption of the new law on the restitution of cultural property as both historic and promising, while noting that it also introduces significant limitations.

First, the law sets 1815 as a cut-off date, meaning that only illegal acquisitions made after that year fall within its scope. Second, it creates exceptions, excluding archaeological objects acquired through agreements to share excavation finds or through exchanges conducted for scientific research purposes.

“In order to understand the true scope of the law, thorough research into the provenance of each archaeological object is required, a process often hindered by the lack of easily accessible information,” Titi writes, adding that the case of the Parthenon fragments in the Louvre offers a particularly revealing example.

The Louvre houses a large collection of Greek antiquities, including several Parthenon fragments — some definitively identified and others only presumed to originate from the monument. Two of these fragments were “discovered” in 1788 and 1789 by Louis-François-Sébastien Fauvel (1753–1838), a painter, diplomat, and archaeologist working for the French ambassador to the Ottoman Empire at the time.

According to the article, Fauvel had received explicit instructions from his employer, whose words became notorious: “Take everything you can; use every possible means, my dear fellow, to plunder in Athens and its territory everything that can be plundered (…). Spare neither the dead nor the living.”

Titi explains that when the first of the two fragments — a section of the Parthenon frieze known as the “Laborde Slab” — arrived in France, it was confiscated by revolutionaries in 1792. Since it entered the French public domain before 1815, it would not fall under the new law.

The second fragment, however — a metope depicting a centaur and a Lapith — was acquired by the Louvre at an auction in 1818. As a result, Titi argues, it could potentially fall within the scope of the legislation and therefore be eligible for restitution.

Other fragments believed to belong to the Parthenon entered the Louvre much later. One sculpted head from a metope was sold to the museum in 1880, another in 1927, while a third head, possibly from the frieze, was donated in 1916.

Titi notes that only one architectural fragment of the Parthenon was donated before 1815, suggesting that many of the remaining fragments could theoretically be covered by the restitution law.

She also raises a broader legal question: whether the legislation applies to objects that were looted or stolen before 1815 but entered public collections after that date. “The law does not define as illegal only the acquisition of an object through theft or plunder,” she writes, “but also acquisition from a person who had no legal right to dispose of it. Can the possessor of an illicit object legally transfer ownership? Presumably not. Therefore, the decisive date should be the moment the fragment entered the public domain.”

As for the Laborde Slab, whose restitution cannot be pursued under the new law because of the date it entered public ownership, Titi points out that restitution could still be achieved through special legislation adopted on a case-by-case basis.

She concludes by stressing that restitution under the new framework is not automatic. In the case of the Louvre and other national museums, institutional approval is still required before any object can leave public collections.

“In any case,” she writes, “a thorough and detailed investigation into the provenance of each of these Parthenon fragments is essential before any definitive judgment can be made regarding their possible return should Greece formally claim them.”

Despite the legal uncertainties, Titi argues that political attitudes are clearly evolving. She notes that the French legislation follows other recent European initiatives on cultural restitution, including a policy adopted by the Netherlands in 2020.

France, she adds, given its close diplomatic ties and longstanding friendship with Greece, could choose to proceed with returns even beyond the framework of the law, following the examples already set by the Vatican, Italy, and the University of Heidelberg, all of which have returned Parthenon fragments from their collections.

“In any case,” she concludes, “it is absolutely necessary to critically examine the provenance of works held in our public collections, whether colonial or archaeological in origin.”