By Inès Fabre
Eight minutes. That’s all it took, on October 19, 2025, to steal nine jewels from the Crown of France in the Galerie d’Apollon of the Louvre Palace. Between 9:30 and 9:38 a.m., thieves scaled the walls using a mechanical ladder, cut through the display cases, and vanished with loot estimated at €88 million. The only clue: a crown once belonging to Empress Eugénie, found near the museum. The audacity of the heist, carried out in one of the most heavily guarded places in the world, raises a nagging question: How could such a robbery have happened?
Since then, the investigation has mobilized hundreds of officers. Seven arrests have already been made, including three individuals suspected of being at the scene. But questions remain: Who are the masterminds? Where are the jewels? And above all, why this heist? Let’s delve into the shadowy underbelly of the black art market!
Museums around the world are regularly targeted by audacious thieves. Some, like the theft of the Mona Lisa in 1911 or the British Crown Jewels in 1671, have become legendary. Others, such as the theft of 13 masterpieces from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in 1990, remain unsolved mysteries. Each theft strikes at the soul of a nation, attacking its heritage, history, and collective memory.
Yet, before October 19, 2025, few people knew of the existence of the Crown Jewels at the Louvre. Partially sold in 1887 by the Republic, which deemed them unnecessary to keep in the national collections, they were only recently returned to the public collections. Today, thanks to media frenzy and social networks, their theft has sparked global outrage, blending mockery, ridicule — like Jimmy Fallon’s jokes on his talk show or Louvre thief costumes for Halloween — and scathing criticism of France.
The controversy extends beyond the cultural sphere and embraces political scandal and ideologization. Investigators are trying to determine the motive behind the theft. Was it for the love of art? Or part of a cultural goods trafficking operation? In museums, banks, and private homes, these thieves seek what can be sold expensively and easily: precious stones and gold.
Art thefts fuel a parallel market estimated at several billion dollars annually. According to the Global Art Market Report 2024, the legal art market was worth $65 billion in 2023. But this prosperity has a dark side: it attracts traffickers. Growing demand not only drives legal sales but also thefts, looting of archaeological sites, and destruction of monuments. Resale on the black market is often the first temptation for thieves: finding a fence willing to take the risk of buying such items. This risk comes at a cost: a discount of between 90% and 95% of the artwork’s value. In the case of the Louvre, this would still leave the thieves with around €4.4 million. However, there is a catch: such fences are few in number and often known to the police. It was by contacting one of them that the thieves who stole two Picassos in 2007 from the home of the artist’s granddaughter were tracked down and arrested.
This invisible empire, difficult to quantify, relies on organized, hierarchical networks skilled in modern techniques. The internet and online sales platforms facilitate the movement of goods, while technological advancements, such as underwater robots, enable illegal excavations in previously inaccessible areas. Police seizures, like Operation Medicus in Bulgaria, where 4,600 objects were recovered, reveal the scale of the phenomenon.
The question remains: what becomes of stolen artworks? Several scenarios emerge, depending on the nature of the theft. A solid gold crown can be melted down, but a painting cannot disappear without a trace. Works stolen from museums, listed in databases, known throughout the profession, and publicized, become unsellable on the official market. No one could buy Empress Marie-Louise’s emerald necklace without arousing suspicion.
Some suggest a private collector willing to pay to own unique pieces. But investigators consider this scenario unlikely, even fanciful. Others point to organized crime: the jewels could be melted down to sell the gold and precious stones or used as currency in illegal activities. In 2005, a Henry Moore sculpture worth £3 million was stolen, melted down, and sold as scrap for £1,500. The bronze was likely exported via Rotterdam to China, where it may have fed the growing demand for metal in the manufacture of electrical components.
Finally, there is the hypothesis of “artnapping“: thieves contact the museum or insurer to negotiate a ransom. Indeed, famous works, once stolen, lose all market value on the black market. The owner or insurer becomes the only profitable target. Thieves understand that the true value of a well-known work lies in the owner’s desire to recover it, hence the demand for ransoms. Several cases have been confirmed, such as the Tate Gallery in London, which paid £3.1 million to recover Turners.
The black market for art thrives with the complicity of key players: dealers, auctioneers, museum curators, and private buyers. Fake certificates of provenance and a lack of strict regulation facilitate the laundering of artworks. Despite UNESCO’s international conventions, sanctions remain rare and ineffective. Worse: when an object is discovered by chance, its owner often stands to gain more by selling it illegally than by declaring it. The legal market, too rigid, does not reward those who play by the rules enough.
Ultimately, the theft of the Crown Jewels is more than just a news story. It exposes the flaws of a system where art, a symbol of culture and history, falls prey to a parallel economy. Until states close legal loopholes and the international community mobilizes, the black market will continue to thrive. “Give back the Crown Jewels!”—this cry, launched by Pierre-Jean Chalençon after the Louvre heist, echoes as a call to protect the heritage. Because behind every theft, it is the soul of a nation that is under threat.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own, and may not reflect the opinions of The St Andrews Economist.
Image courtesy of Vaibhav Nagare via Unsplash.