Sacre Bleu! What the Louvre robbery means for us, the museum, and the French tourism industry

It has become something of a cliche to say that the media is filled with nothing but bad news. Over the years there have been several explanations for this, ranging from analytics on what people are most likely to click on, to the fact that “everything is fine” isn’t really a news story. We could also look at the fact that things in general aren’t exactly in the best shape they’ve ever been, with every week bringing a new “unprecedented” development in the managed decline of the Western world. It’s exhausting to say the least. What a relief it has been, then, to have something grace our headlines that seems to harken back to simpler times when the information action ratio wasn’t plunging our society into a self-sustaining emotional crisis. It’s time to talk about whether the Louvre robbery was what we, and maybe the Louvre, needed after all. 

It is not nice to steal jewels, or anything for that matter. I don’t think that that’s a controversial statement, but I’m willing to debate anyone who thinks otherwise. All I’m saying is that out of all possible crimes it is A: the most cartoonish and B: the most impressive. Hear me out.

On the first point re: cartoonishness- what could capture the imagination more than a group of plucky outsiders taking on societal elites through deception, wit, and a hefty helping of luck? Seven of the thieves’ identities are known to police, with one reportedly still at large. The imagination runs wild. My theory is a jaded countess from a deposed noble family, growing tired of the tedium and humiliation of fading generational wealth, taking it upon herself to dive back into the belly of the beast for one last big score. Jacques, the disguise expert, lair filled with high-vis jackets and fake moustaches. Marcel with his forklift qualification and driving skills (he used to be the president’s chauffeur). The possibilities are endless. The very mention of jewel thievery is inseparable from catsuits, rooms filled with criss-crossed lasers, glasscutters, femmes fatales, and life-weary detectives gazing at rainsoaked monochrome streets through the slits in their blinds. Anything even approaching this realm of mystery and intrigue is simply fun to think about. 

Then we come to the known facts of the crime itself. The Louvre robbery on the 19th of October took approximately 8 minutes, with only four of them spent inside the museum itself. Marcel wouldn’t have had time to listen to “All Too Well (Taylor’s version)” before kicking into gear and tearing untraceably back through the city to his hideout in the Loire Valley. Or at least that’s what I imagine he did. Maybe he’s more of a Sabrina guy but that’s exactly my point- there is so much we don’t know. All we do know is that his scooter left the scene loaded with nine artifacts from the Louvre’s 16th-century Galerie d’Apollon, with one of them, the 1855 Crown of Empress Eugénie, rolling into the gutter before the escape. 

Discussion of any crime should of course focus more on the victim than the perpetrator, especially when it’s as high profile as this one. The Louvre is arguably the world’s most revered and respected museum, and that apparently came with a significant degree of complacence with regards to whether anyone would be able to just walk in and fill their boots with whatever they fancied. The French union group ‘Union syndicale Solidaires’ warned in the wake of the robbery that there had been a severe lack of security on duty at the building. This, in addition to long-standing concerns about the building itselfs porous security arrangements, suggests that there was a degree of negligence which made the theft so easy.

None of this is to say that the loss of such a priceless collection is the fault of the Louvre, and it was undoubtedly devastating to those with an interest in the late Ancien Regime and Napoleonic period of French history. However, there is historical precedent to spark cause for optimism. By far the most visited item in the Louvre’s collection is the Mona Lisa. Da Vinci’s masterpiece brings in, according to the museum, an estimated 7-8 million visitors annually. However, this was not always the case. Before 1911, the painting was mainly known only to experts, and was by no means viewed as a masterpiece in the same way as today. It was only in August that year, when former Louvre worker Vincenzo Peruggia walked out of the building with the painting slung after his arm, that it became so globally renowned. When it was finally recovered two years later, thousands queued to see the painting returned to its rightful place. 

Therefore, the Louvre doesn’t have as much to worry about as it may seem. It could very well be the case that they have inadvertently traded some of their less- famous items for an intrigue that will bring even more tourists flocking to their doors. The sharply dressed detectives, mysterious criminals, and speedy getaways make a far more compelling story for the items’ presence than their donation and inheritance. Perhaps there’s a lesson here for British institutions looking to increase visitor numbers, but then again their collections have all been stolen once already. 

Words by Will Garrood