We are at the Natural History Museum in Berlin, where thousands of visitors want to see one of the most famous exhibits: The Giraffatitan brancai It is one of the largest and tallest reconstructed dinosaur skeletons in the world. A breathtaking sight—but did you know that this dinosaur skeleton has deep colonial roots?
Beyond the sheer size of the skeleton, it serves as a testament to how scientific discoveries were closely linked to the colonial power structures of the early 20th century. Every phase of its history—from its discovery to its transport to Germany and its display in a museum—reflects global inequalities and the colonial appropriation of resources.
This 150-million-year-old dinosaur fossil was excavated between 1909 and 1913 at Mount Tendaguru in what is now Tanzania. At that time, Tanzania was under German colonial rule as part of German East Africa. The region was heavily militarized, and the German colonial administration exercised strict control over the land, resources, and population.
The discovery itself can be traced back to a report by a German engineer who came across enormous bones while conducting geological surveys in the region in 1906. This information soon spread to Berlin and led to the Museum für Naturkunde organizing a large-scale paleontological expedition.
This discovery came during a devastating period in Tanzanian history. In the years immediately preceding the excavations, the Maji-Maji Uprising (1905–1907)—a widespread armed resistance against the German colonial administration—had taken place. German troops had crushed the uprising with extreme brutality, which in many cases led to widespread violence, starvation, and death. Through the systematic suppression of these uprisings, the colonial authorities created an environment that they subsequently deemed „safe“ for scientific expeditions, while the affected local communities remained largely marginalized.
Between 1909 and 1913, the Berlin Museum of Natural History, under the direction of paleontologists Werner Janensch and Edwin Hennig, organized a major expedition to excavate fossils. Although the work was officially designated as scientific field research, it was deeply embedded in colonial power structures. While the expedition was funded and organized by Berlin-based institutions, the physical labor on site relied heavily on local workers, who were forced to work under extremely harsh conditions.
Since the region was affected by sleeping sickness, which is transmitted by the tsetse fly, pack animals such as mules and horses could hardly be used. Instead, it was primarily African workers—men, women, and often young people—who excavated the heavy fossil material and prepared it for transport. According to recent research, efforts are now even being made to record the names and contributions of these female workers in databases such as Wikidata in order to increase their historical visibility.
A total of approximately 225–230 metric tons of fossil material was transported from the Tendaguru region to Berlin. Several thousand individual bones were recovered, including numerous partial skeletons of the species Giraffatitan brancai, Dicraeosaurus hansemanni, Kentrosaurus aethiopicus, Elaphrosaurus bambergi, and Dysalotosaurus lettowvorbecki. The paleontological diversity of the finds makes the Tendaguru expedition one of the most significant in the history of dinosaur research.
The Tendaguru Formation, which is characteristic of the region, dates back to between approximately 157 and 145 million years ago and represents a Late Jurassic stratum that is among the richest dinosaur sites in the world. In addition to the largest sauropod fossils, it also yields a wealth of plant, vertebrate, and invertebrate remains, providing a comprehensive picture of the ecosystems of that time.
This was a milestone for scientific paleontology: The fossils provide insights into the morphology, lifestyle, growth, and environmental conditions of animals from the Jurassic period. Numerous scientific publications have resulted from these findings, and research on the collections continues to this day, in some cases using new methods such as CT scans and digital modeling.
After the fossils were excavated from the site, they first had to be roughly prepared, packed into special transport containers, and transported over long distances to the coast—a logistical challenge that had to be overcome, primarily due to the heavy weight of the material and the lack of infrastructure. From there, the packed finds were shipped to Europe, mostly via the Port of Hamburg.
Some of the original material remains unopened to this day in the museum's archives, including 40 bamboo corsets and several wooden crates containing untreated bones, which modern research techniques such as computed tomography have not yet been able to fully analyze.
During the GDR era, the fossil’s colonial origins were usually mentioned only in passing; exhibition panels often simply stated „German East Africa“as its origin. It was not until the 21st century that museums began to explicitly provide information about colonial contexts and conduct provenance research in order to shed light on historical connections.”.
Today’s dinosaur exhibition, for example, points out that the excavations would not have been possible without the work of hundreds of African laborers and the colonial context. This approach to education is intended to help visitors understand the global and historical connections between science, power, and empire.
The history of natural history collections, such as that of Giraffatitan brancai, cannot be understood in isolation from the broader practice of colonial science in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. During this era, scientific expeditions and collections often served to reinforce the power and prestige of the colonial powers. European museums, including the Museum für Naturkunde in Berlin, systematically expanded their collections by bringing specimens from colonially conquered territories to Europe. This process was not only a scientific endeavor but also a political one: the documentation, classification, and exhibition of colonial nature were closely linked to the legal and military control of the respective regions. In many cases, collections were explored and systematized to better understand and exploit „resources“ of both a biological and cultural nature—a process that today’s researchers view as part of the historical „scientific colonialism“criticize because it largely concentrated knowledge about colonized regions in the metropolitan centers and marginalized local perspectives.”.
A recent example of this connection between science and colonial history is a project at the Museum für Naturkunde in Berlin that aims to make fossil and archival material from the Tendaguru Expedition accessible online. This project explicitly acknowledges the colonial contexts of the collection and seeks international collaborations with partners in the regions of origin—a sign of how museum institutions today are striving to critically reflect on the colonial legacy of their collections.
It is important to recognize that colonial-era collecting practices were not limited to the museum in Berlin, but were part of a global trend: Museums in London, Paris, and Vienna also collected objects from colonial contexts, described them through Eurocentric narratives, and presented them to the public as proof of the superiority of European science and civilization.
Paleontological activities on Tendaguru Hill took place during a period marked by profound political tensions in German East Africa. Just a few years before the dinosaur excavations began, the local African population had risen up en masse against German colonial rule. The Maji-Maji Uprising of 1905–1907 was one of the largest organized resistance movements in the colonial history of East Africa and united members of various ethnic groups in the south of what was then German East Africa.
The uprising was triggered by the repressive measures of the German administration, such as forced labor, high taxes, and the requirement to produce cotton for export. These measures destroyed traditional economic structures and led to widespread discontent with colonial rule. The movement took its name from the term „maji“ (water), which referred to a spiritual practice in which it was believed that a magical elixir mixed with water could protect the fighters against the weapons of the colonial troops.
Although the uprising was ultimately crushed by military force, using a scorched-earth strategy that destroyed villages and crops, it had a profound impact on local societies. Estimates suggest that between Between 200,000 and 300,000 people died, mainly from consequences such as starvation, when the German colonial forces restored control.
In this context, paleontological excavations began shortly after the end of the uprising, under conditions that—from today’s perspective—were heavily shaped by colonial infrastructure, power dynamics, and the oppression of local populations. In other words, scientific research in the field was not detached from these historical realities but took place in an environment shaped by displacement, violence, and the systematic marginalization of African voices.
In recent decades, international museum practice has increasingly begun to address the ethical issues arising from colonial acquisitions. While debates over restitution primarily concern works of art and human remains, questions are also increasingly being raised about how to handle scientific objects such as fossils. Fossils of great significance, such as those from the Tendaguru expedition, are at the center of a growing discourse on whether and to what extent such objects were collected under colonial conditions and taken abroad.
A central element of this debate is provenance research: that is, examining the legal, historical, and ethical circumstances under which collection items came into the possession of European institutions and how transparently these acquisition histories can be disclosed. At the Museum für Naturkunde Berlin, for example, efforts have been underway for several years to examine the colonial contexts in which natural history objects were acquired and to highlight them in exhibition designs. This work aims to help visitors gain a deeper understanding of the historical conditions under which the collections were formed.
In addition, there are wide-ranging international debates on the restitution and return of cultural property, which focus not only on art but also on natural history objects. The discussion regarding the return of objects from colonial contexts—for example, as part of UNESCO projects or through national government initiatives—shows that the approach to colonial heritage is evolving and raising new legal and moral questions.
Some argue that fossils, although often treated as scientific objects, are also subject to a form of „cultural belonging“ and should therefore be taken into account in discussions about restitution and cooperative partnerships. Others emphasize that technical accessibility, scientific use, and international research collaborations are also important aspects that must be taken into account in such debates. This complex interplay of legal, historical, and ethical dimensions make it clear that grappling with the colonial legacy in natural history collections is an ongoing process that goes far beyond simple questions of ownership.
