In mid-2023, as a horrific and little-covered civil war began to convulse Sudan, soldiers made their way to a dun-colored modern building in the center of Khartoum. The National Museum of Sudan housed a stunning collection of antiquities dating back to the Paleolithic period—including a series of major works from ancient Egypt and the neighboring Nubian kingdoms.
So when the troops affiliated with the Rapid Support Forces—a paramilitary outfit that had just staged an assault against the government—began looting the museum’s displays, there was plenty to steal. They smashed cases and ripped open mummies’ coffins, focusing on lighter pieces like jewelry and gold. Others pried open storage rooms, searching for anything of value. The RSF retained control of the site until 2025; when they finally abandoned it, curators found that some 60 percent of the collection was gone. Among the missing items: a priceless gold collar dating to the fifth century BCE, found in the pyramid of a Nubian king.
The looting in Khartoum, which was repeated at a smaller scale in provincial museums across Sudan, was widely reported. It was hardly an isolated instance. In recent years, significant looting has been reported in Iraq, Syria, Afghanistan, Ukraine, and Ethiopia, all places where war and breakdowns in civil order have created opportunities for thieves.
But with opportunities come problems: how to dispose of the loot. The thieves, after all, can’t just show up at an auction house or a major dealer with pieces obviously taken from a war zone. But there appears to be a significant black market—and enough avenues to launder the provenance of stolen works—to make such a heist worthwhile.
