Over Christmas, I spent a lovely couple of hours with two old friends and their two toddlers - let’s call them Toddler A and Toddler B. 

As we all sat down over coffees, a chilled vibe prevailed with the grown-ups catching up and the little ones peacefully playing with the toys they had brought, Toddler A being particularly attached to a very sweet (if tatty-looking) stuffed rabbit that I learned had been a companion since birth. 

Halfway through our second coffee war broke out with Toddler B snatching the aforementioned rabbit and making for the door of the café with his loot.

Using the infamous ‘tantrum manoeuvre’, a counter-attack was attempted by Toddler A, which backfired and saw her mother’s coffee spill over me. This delayed apprehension of our mini-Warlord. Swinging the precious fluffy rabbit by its ear, Toddler A landed it out through the door and onto the pavement.

I am frequently in awe of the diplomacy and patience of parents, and what followed was no exception. Our peace talks involved the re-enforcement of principles of ownership, misappropriation and forgiveness.

The fluffy bunny (now missing an ear) was restored to its rightful owner. An offer of sewing the ear back on and dry cleaning my coat from the mother of Toddler A (neither of which was taken up) helped alleviate the obvious embarrassment of the mother of Toddler A.

I am sure this is just a normal day in the lives of many parents, and I didn’t give it further thought.

Until I read in the national news last week that a collection of gold items from the ancient Asante kingdom will come out of the collections of our national museums and returned to Ghana.

These items carry deep historical and spiritual significance for Ghanaians and are described as the "crown jewels" of the Asantehene, the Asante King. They were almost all removed from Ghana by British troops in the late 19th century.

They were the spoils of a war that was about greed for gold, and they were sold by their acquirers and found their way into the collections of the V&A and British Museum, among others. 

My ears pricked up to this story when it became clear that these items were not actually being given back but were being loaned back.

This is astounding to me, but it is, at present, the only legal route for the items to return to the country from which they were stolen. This is because UK law prevents national museums from ‘deaccessioning’ items from their collections, irrespective of their origin.

This area of UK law prevents the giving back of what was clearly stolen.  

So much of the narrative around this story, and similar ones around the Benin Bronzes and the Parthenon Sculptures, uses loaded and often complex terms like post-colonialism, repatriation and cultural misappropriation as smokescreens and gaslights.

The legacy of the UK’s colonial past is hugely complex, and few disagree that we have wrongs to put right. Cutting through that to the core of this issue, theft is wrong and giving back what you stole is right.

We have missed an enormous opportunity as a country here, and very sadly, it seems that our major cultural institutions are being forced to be the last bastions of imperialism. 

Tristram Hunt, the former Labour MP who is now director of the V&A, said in a TV interview that he didn’t feel a sense of shame having these items in his museum’s collection.

While I accept that a loan is a good start and a symbolic gesture, we should never stop feeling a sense of shame for the wrongs of the past or forget some fundamental human principles.

Reflecting back to my friends and their toddlers, I am trying to imagine a solution whereby Toddler B had been allowed to keep the stuffed toy, and Toddler A borrow it back for fixed periods of time.

It’s unthinkable.

Without wishing to be glib or reduce complex historical issues, let’s not lose sight of the lack of basic humanity here. What I heard a parent say to a child should ring in the ears of Museum Directors and lawmakers.

“Give. It. Back.”

Stephen Crocker is chief executive and creative director of Norwich Theatre