The Egyptian Obelisk in New York (and London… and Paris): A Tale of Giant Pointy Rocks and Imperial One-Upmanship

There’s something inherently strange about stumbling across an ancient Egyptian obelisk in the middle of New York City. Or London. Or Paris. In between the skyscrapers, palaces, and Haussmannian boulevards stands a towering slab of inscribed granite, carved thousands of years ago to honour a long-dead pharaoh—and now entirely out of place in its chilly, rain-slicked, or smog-kissed new home.

Why are these millennia-old artefacts sitting in Western capitals? What imperial urge drove 19th-century powers to transport giant pointy rocks halfway across the world? And how did no one stop to ask, “Is this really a good idea?”

Welcome to the weird and wonderful history of Egypt’s most travelled monuments.

What Are These Obelisks?

Before we dive into imperial escapades and Victorian flexing, let’s get the basics straight. An obelisk is a tall, four-sided, tapering monument that ends in a pyramid-like tip. Ancient Egyptians built them as symbols of the sun god Ra and often placed them at temple entrances to signify power, continuity, and divine authority.

They were also feats of engineering. Many were carved from a single block of granite, some weighing upwards of 200 tonnes. In short: not something you casually pop in your luggage.

The Obelisks Abroad: Where Are They Now?

Today, three of Egypt’s most famous obelisks stand far from home:

• Paris: The Place de la Concorde
• London: The Embankment, near the Thames
• New York City: Central Park

All three are known—somewhat confusingly—as Cleopatra’s Needle (spoiler: Cleopatra had nothing to do with any of them). So how did these ancient monuments end up decorating the great capitals of Europe and America?

Paris: The First to Flex

When France Decided It Needed a Bit of Luxor

In 1833, France received the Luxor Obelisk as a gift from Egypt’s ruler, Muhammad Ali Pasha. The obelisk—originally erected at the Temple of Luxor in the 13th century BCE—was transported from Egypt to Paris over the course of several gruelling years, involving a custom-built ship and a great deal of national pride.

On 25 October 1836, it was ceremoniously installed in the Place de la Concorde, where it still stands today, looking just a little bemused to find itself surrounded by honking traffic and designer shops.

A Gift With Strings

Why give away a priceless monument? For Muhammad Ali, gifting an obelisk was a savvy diplomatic move. Egypt was playing all sides in the Great Power game, and offering up a bit of ancient prestige kept European allies close. (Also, he reportedly expected a working clock in return. He got one. It didn’t work.)

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London: A Bargain in Granite (and Misfortune)

Cleopatra’s Needle on the Thames

Not to be outdone, Britain acquired its own obelisk in 1819—also a gift from Muhammad Ali, this time to commemorate Nelson’s victory at the Battle of the Nile. But it wasn’t actually transported to London until 1877. Why the delay? Well, no one wanted to foot the bill.

Eventually, Sir William Wilson Hunter paid for it with private funds, and the 68-foot, 224-tonne obelisk was shipped from Alexandria in a custom iron cylinder, which promptly capsized in a storm off the coast of Spain. Miraculously, the obelisk survived, was salvaged, and finally raised beside the Thames in 1878.

Victorian Hubris Meets Ancient Stone

Britain’s obelisk is flanked by a pair of faux-Egyptian sphinxes and protected by lion’s feet at the base—because nothing says historical authenticity like mixing your civilisations. It’s also covered in commemorative plaques, including one for the men who died bringing it to the UK.

Because apparently, yes, people did die for the glory of owning a giant rock.

New York: America’s Turn to Show Off

The Last Needle

By the late 19th century, the United States was feeling a little left out of the imperial grandeur parade. So in 1881, Egypt offered a third obelisk—again branded “Cleopatra’s Needle”—to the Americans.

Transporting it to Central Park took an immense amount of effort. Engineers spent weeks dragging the 200-tonne stone across Manhattan using a system of cannonballs, ropes, and wooden rollers. Because, obviously, what Central Park was missing was a 3,000-year-old monument dedicated to Thutmose III.

A Monument to Ambition

It arrived with fanfare, newspaper headlines, and the breathless awe of a young republic finally joining the cultural big leagues. Never mind that most people had no idea what an obelisk was. It looked impressive—and that was enough.

So… Why Did Everyone Suddenly Want One?

Imperial One-Upmanship at Its Finest

The 19th century was a golden age of imperial collecting, and Egyptian artefacts were the crown jewels. Western powers were scrambling to outdo one another in exhibitions, museums, and monuments. Possessing an obelisk was a form of civilisational bragging rights—a way of saying, “Look how cultured and connected we are!”

It was also an attempt to draw a symbolic line from ancient empires to modern ones. France, Britain and the U.S. saw themselves as heirs to classical greatness. What better way to prove that than by relocating a 3,000-year-old monument to your city square?

Archaeology Meets Appropriation

Today, the ethics of such acquisitions are… complicated. While the obelisks were “gifts” on paper, they were also extracted in an era of uneven power dynamics, colonial influence and backroom diplomacy. The idea of returning them occasionally pops up, but none of the hosting countries has shown much interest in giving them back.

Do Egyptians Want Their Obelisks Returned?

While Egypt has pushed for the return of many artefacts—like the Rosetta Stone and Nefertiti’s bust—the obelisks have received comparatively little official attention. Possibly because they’re immense, difficult to move, and not exactly fragile.

Also, Egypt still has around thirty obelisks of its own, and they’re rather busy building new museums to show them off properly.

Visiting the Obelisks Today

Central Park’s Unexpected Centrepiece

In New York, Cleopatra’s Needle is quietly tucked behind the Metropolitan Museum of Art. If you’re not looking for it, you might miss it. But it’s well worth a visit, especially to read the hieroglyphs—and to marvel at the journey that got it there.

London’s Windy Riverside Treasure

London’s obelisk stands out more dramatically, thanks to its prime riverside location. The sphinxes are photogenic, if a little kitsch, and it’s a nice excuse for a walk along the Embankment.

Paris: Grand Setting, Bigger Questions

The Parisian obelisk arguably has the most dramatic placement, centred in the vast Place de la Concorde. It’s flanked by fountains and framed by neoclassical buildings—an Egyptian relic recontextualised as French imperial decor.

Big Rocks, Bigger Egos

There’s something delightfully absurd about the lengths to which 19th-century powers went to acquire ancient monuments. Moving hundreds of tonnes of stone across oceans and continents, all to prove cultural superiority and dress up the public square—it’s part Indiana Jones, part ego trip, part geopolitical theatre.

Today, these obelisks stand not just as relics of Ancient Egypt, but as reminders of the complex, often ironic legacies of imperial ambition.

And they still make for a cracking photo.