El negre de Banyoles (1916-1997)
One of the more shocking moments in Planet of the Apes (1968) is when Taylor - attempting to escape from his simian captors - finds himself in the Natural Science Museum and encounters the stuffed corpse of his fellow astronaut, Dodge, mounted on public display.
But the question is: why was Dodge sent to the taxidermist and displayed in this manner? Why Dodge and not Landon?
The answer is given in the novelization of the sequel, Escape from the Planet of the Apes (1971), where it's revealed that the apes - having never seen a black man before - were intrigued by Dodge's skin colour. This adds an interesting further level of complexity and controversy to a franchise that is already often viewed in terms of racial politics.
I recalled this scene after recently reading about the Negro of Banyoles, a stuffed human figure which, for many years, was exhibited at the Darder Museum, Spain.
The striking and rather fearsome-looking piece was produced by the Verreaux brothers; famous 19th century French naturalists, collectors, and dealers of exotic specimens. It was acquired by the small museum in Catalonia in 1916 and soon widely became known as el negre de Banyoles - much loved by locals and tourists alike.
However, in October 1991, the mayor of Banyoles received a letter from Alphonse Arcelin demanding that the figure be permanently removed from display. Arcelin, a doctor, originally from Haiti, thought the figure an unacceptable relic from a colonial era steeped in racism and argued that its continued display was an affront to humanity (and particularly to persons of colour, such as himself).
Unfortunately for Snr. Arcelin, the mayor, the council, the museum staff, and the townspeople all disagreed with him and so he was forced to take things further. The subsequent hoo-ha attracted extensive media coverage and political reaction. Eventually, the UN Secretary General, Kofi Annan, became personally involved with the case and also wrote to the mayor of Banyoles to express his outrage and disappointment with the town's refusal to remove the figure.
Other African heads of state also contributed to the debate and pressed for the Negro to be allowed to return to his homeland where he might finally be allowed to rest in peace. The fact that no one really knew where this homeland was and that he was actually an it didn't seem to deter them.
Finally, in 1997, after six years of international pressure and wrangling, the figure was stripped of its loincloth and feathered headdress and sent to the National Museum of Anthropology in Madrid, where all artificial components were removed, including the wooden spine, glass eyes, artificial hair, and fake genitals. What remained - basically just dried skin and bone - was then placed in a coffin and shipped over to Botswana, for ceremonial burial in a national park.
Whether this constitutes a moral victory and a dignified end to the story of the Negro of Banyoles, is debatable. Obviously, like Dodge, the figure was displayed as an oddity and no one cared about the fact that it had once been a living man with a name. But then we don't care either about Egyptian mummies, or the bodies of saints preserved and displayed as religious relics ...
Ultimately, the question is whether corpses retain their human status and identities and should, therefore, share the same rights as the living. Personally, I don't quite see it. For whilst the living might be construed as very rare and unusual objects, it's a stretch to think of the dead as genuine subjects (particularly bodies that have been artificially preserved and turned into rather creepy exhibits).
