I didn’t expect to be so moved. I’d seen it of course. Many times. I’d also read the information – what there was of it. And after that, if I’m honest, I hadn’t given it much thought. Like thousands of other objects, in dozens of other museums, I took it for granted. It was there. It was ours. And that’s that.

And then I spoke, this week, to a group of people who’d come thousands of miles to see the object. They walked through the streets of Edinburgh and into the national museum and up to the gallery where the memorial pole now sits. It was the first time in living memory members of their community had seen it with their own eyes.

One of the delegation, Dr Amy Parent, told me what happened next. She and others from the Nisga’a people explained to the staff what the pole meant to them. They see it as a living being, she said, and sang to it so it would recognise them. “We could feel the breath of our ancestors,” she told me. It was profoundly affecting to hear Dr Parent explain how she felt.

Dr Parent also spelled out the demands of the Nisga’a. They want changes to the visitor information about the pole to properly reflect its history, but more than that: the pole was taken without permission in the 1920s and sold to the museum and they want it back. Immediately, and without conditions.

For the museum itself, there are historical nuances at work here – of course there are. If you haven’t seen it, I recommend the Legacies of Empire exhibition at the National War Museum, which points out that taking trophies was common – on all sides. But it was also clear when I spoke to the staff that they want to honestly tackle the controversial nature of some of the objects in their care and that’s a good place to start.

But we should, in the end, try to see it from the point of view of the Nisga’a. In some ways, Dr Parent told me, the museum keeping the pole would be like England keeping the Stone of Destiny. She also has a striking phrase for museums that display the spoils of domination and theft: “hoarding crime scenes”.

This was not easy to listen to, especially as I had to admit to Dr Parent that until recently I’d seen the pole and other objects without their controversial nature even crossing my mind. This is partly the fault of museums (and partly mine). But it’s also a reflection of how the discussion on objects such as the memorial pole is changing fast.

So how will the museum respond? I spoke to the director Chris Breward and when I asked him if he understood how the Nisga’a felt, he said he did, and would address their concerns about the visitor information. He and his colleagues will also be having more meetings with the Nisga’a this week before the delegation flies back to Canada on Friday. At the very least, it’s a good start.

But the main sticking points are clear. The Nisga’a say the pole was stolen and want it back – no strings. The museum on the other hand appear to be insisting that, if the pole is returned, it can only be to a national museum similar to Edinburgh’s. The Nisga’a are frustrated by this: who are the museum to dictate what happens to the pole, they say, it doesn’t belong to them.

The impression I get, however, is that the museum realise the ground is shifting. An increasing number of institutions are starting to return controversial objects and the ones that stick to a definite “no” are starting to look out of step. The question then for the national museum is how, not if, we do this, and that’s a sign of some significant, and swift, progress.

The problem for the Nisga’a, sadly, is that it’s nowhere near swift enough. But at least we can accept where we are now. At least we can admit the facts. One of the delegation said to me that truth was sitting at the doorstep of the Scottish people and the truth was that the pole belongs where it came from. And, really, who are we to disagree?

Our columns are a platform for writers to express their opinions. They do not necessarily represent the views of The Herald.