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Introduction
When, in March 1994, the central tower of Angkor
Wat was struck lightning, Cambodia's co-premier flew to the site
to preside over a religious ceremony. There had been little
physical damage to the 800-year-old temple, but the natural
phenomenon was taken as a bad omen, demanding propitiatory rites
if misfortune were to be averted.
Angkor is a symbol of power, of
greatness, of immortality. Angkor Wat and the other stone
temples of the ancient capital of the Khmer we built by
god-kings to link the human and the divine in life and to allow
the two to merge in death. As such, Angkor's monuments
legitimize sovereignty and served as palladia of the nation.
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The
symbolic essence of such power is as potent today as it was a
thousand years ago when the Khmer nation was founded, and the
passage of time through Angkor is marked as much by am
etaphorical continuity as by physical
change. It is no coincidence that during the civil war of the
1970s and '80s opposing factions chose Angkor Wat as the
central motif for their different national flags. More
recently, a 1993 UNESCO publication noted: "The importance
of the site makes its long-term preservation both a national
desire and a symbol of the reconciliation and rehabilitation of
Cambodian society."
Time has, however,
fostered myths, none more persistent than the belief that
Angkor was a mysterious lost city, hidden from the world
until stumbled upon in the mid-nineteenth century by Henri
Mouhot, the French explorer and naturalist. Mouhot did
visit Angkor in January 1860, and spent three weeks
studying the ruined temples he found there. It is also
true that his posthumously published diaries triggered
European interest in Cambodia's past. In that sense Mouhot
rediscovered Angkor for the Western world. Yet while the
ancient city may have been effectively isolated by jungle
and forests, it was never lost nor forgotten.
Located just north of the Tonle Sap (Great Lake), close to
the modern Cambodian town of Siem Reap, Angkor ceased to
be a living city in 1431 when the Khmer court retreated
southeast in the face of repeated Thai onslaughts. But as
historian David Chandler makes clear, that was not the end
of the story. "Although the city was abandoned
in the fifteenth century," Chandler writes in A
History of Cambodia, “it was restored as a royal city
briefly in the 1570s. More important, one of its major
temples, Angkor Wat, was probably never abandoned by the
Khmer, for it contains Buddhist statuary from every
century between the fifteenth and nineteenth .
"Angkor’s
origins have likewise assumed semi-mythic status, and the
precise date of AD 802 is commonly taken as the moment
when Khmer civilization burst forth, as if out of the
blue. The year is important and marks the start of the
reign of Jayavarman II, the Khmer kin who first
established a capital close to the Tonle Sap and thus
began the Khmer’s period of greatness. Khmer-speaking
people had, however, been living in the region long before
this. Moreover, other civilizations in southwestern
Indochina had preceded Angkor. By the dawn of the
Christian era the peoples of Southeast Asia, already
boasting cultures of some sophistication, began to be
exposed to the highly developed civilization of India.
Through a process historians have termed "Indianization",
cultural elements were disseminated through trade contacts
and indigenous populations gradually absorbed aspects of
Indian knowledge and thought. Included in what wa
effectively a sort of cultural osmosis were concepts of
royalty, derived from Hindu and Buddhist philosophies,
which aided the rise of local kingdoms.
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One of the
first beneficiaries of Indianization was the Kingdom of
Funan, Angkor's earliest forerunner. Centred on the Mekong
delta in what is now southernmost Vietnam and probably
inhabited mostly by people of the Mon-Khmer group, Funan
is thought to have been founded sometime during the first
century AD, though evidence is scant and the only
historical accounts are Chinese chronicles, the earliest
of which mentions Funan in the second century.
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The word
"Funan" is in fact the Chinese pronunciation, or
mispronunciation, of bnam (phnom in modern Khmer) meaning
"mountain". Funan was not the name of the
country, which is unknown, but rather the title taken by
its rulers, kurung bnam, "King of the Mountain".
This suggests associations with the Hindu god Siva and
clearly hints at Indian influence.
The extent
of Funan's power is unclear. Twentieth-century excavations
at 0-Keo (thought to be the kingdom's main port, located
on the Mekong delta's west coast) suggest a seafaring
people engaged in extensive trade. Moreover, the sites of
hundreds of Funanese settlements, along with traces of
ancient irrigation canals, were revealed by aerial
photographs taken in the 1930s.
From a
cultural and social perspective, Funan's particular
importance lay in its construction of an extensive
irrigation and drainage system which transformed much of
the Mekong delta from swamp into productive agricultural
land. It was an accomplishment of great ingenuity and
organization which would set an example for others to
follow.
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Funan
eventually lost its pre-eminence. How it came to
perish is uncertain, but its place in history is
assured. "As for Funan, which at times
played the role of a true empire," writes
historian Georges Coedes, "the civilization
that it developed in the valley of the Mekong
prepared the soil for the efflorescence of Khmer
civilization, one of the most beautiful flowers that
Indian influence has produced in India beyond the
Ganges."Angkor
was that "efflorescence of Khmer
civilization", but the culmination which has
been described elsewhere as "that final climax
at Angkor" was first heralded by the kingdom of
Chenla. Originally based on the Mekong near the
river's junction with the Mun tributary, Chenla was
probably initially a vassal of Funan. |
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It then steadily extended its sphere of influence until
finally achieving independence in the seventh century,
absorbing its predecessor and inheriting its Indianized
culture. Few facts are known about Chenla's history, but
eighth-century Chinese sources differentiate between
"Chenla of the Sea" and "Chenla of the
Land". The former occupied the old nucleus of
Funan along the coast and in the Mekong delta, while the
"Chenla of the Land" was located upriver with
its capital perhaps at Champasak in what is now southern
Laos, close to the border with Cambodia.
These were
turbulent times. Internal rifts weakened Chenla,
particularly "Chenla of the Sea", which towards
the end of the eighth century became a vassal of Java, an
island empire which had recently emerged as a major
regional power.
Java's
subjugation of the coastal area prompted a shift away from
sea trade, Funan's original source of wealth, and
triggered a fresh focus on agriculture and the
mobilization of manwer, the one dependent on the other.
Gradually the centre of the pre-Angkor Khmer world changed
and the location of artworks and architectural monuments
suggests an alignment and consolidation westward, finally
settling on the plain between the Tonle Sap and the
Dangrek mountains.
In the
forefront of this newly emerging power centre was the
Khmer king Jayavarman II who, as a prince, had probably
spent some time at the court of Java; certainly the
Javanese had some years earlier carried out a pre-emptive
strike against the Chenla dynasty. Towards the end of the
eighth century, however, Jayavarman II returned to his
native land and established a capital in the Kulen Hills,
north of what was to become the Angkor complex. Here, in
802, he was proclaimed a "universal monarch" in
a ritual which instituted the cult of the deva-raj, or
"god-king". This was originally an Indian
concept of divine kingship and was adopted by the Khmer
probably to justify their sovereignty and assert their
independence from Java. As a reflection of omnipotence,
the king's name took the suffix -varman, meaning
protection.
And so the
Angkorian empire was founded. For the next six centuries
Khmer civilization was to dominate mainland Southeast
Asia. Basing its highly developed institutions on advanced
Indian cultural concepts, Angkor evolved as a rich and
complex civilization, its art and architecture of an
accomplishment comparable to that of ancient Egypt and
Greece. At the greatest extent of its influence in the
twelfth century, Angkor's control extended south to the
Mekong delta in present-day Vietnam, north into Laos and
west over large tracts of what is now Thailand.
It is not
known exactly why Jayavarman II chose to move from the
coast or from the banks of the Mekong river, where Chenla
and Funan had their power centres, but it was probably for
strategic reasons. Java had attacked Chenla via the sea,
and the Mekong was obviously exposed to such danger.
Jayavarman II did not ignore the Mekong's importance as a
source of fish, means of irrigation and transport conduit.
On the contrary, he maximized the benefits of the river
system while at the same time minimizing its potential as
an invasion route.
In
establishing a power base on the north shore of the Great
Lake, Jayavarman II had access to the outside world via
the Tonle Sap tributary and the Mekong. At the same time,
by being at the uppermost navigable point, he was
reasonably though not totally - secure from river-borne
attack. Moreover, the Great Lake and the phenomenon of its
annual floods were to become crucial to the material
development of Angkor and the Khmer Empire.
The name
"Angkor" is derived from the Sanskrit word
nagara, meaning "city" or "capital",
and from Jayavarman II onwards, Khmer kings, legitimized
and symbolized their power by building a temple-mountain
at the heart of their capital.
The
precise limits of that capital were changed under various
monarchs and the Angkor complex seen today comprises the
remains of several successive cities, while the very
earliest capitals stood a short distance away.
Towards
the end of his reign, Jayavarman II created a new city,
which he called Hariharalaya, at present-day Roluos, a
little way southeast of Siem Reap. The next two
kings, Jayavarman III (850-877) and Indravarman I
(877-889) remained at Roluos, but the fourth Angkorian
monarch, Yasovarman I (889-900) moved his capital a few
kilometres northwest and centred it on the hill of Bakheng
in the area of Angkor proper.
Yasovarman also dug a huge
reservoir - the now dry East Baray, measuring so seven by
two kilometres and thus commenced the complex and
sophisticated water system on which the future strength
and prosperity of Angkor would depend
Yasovarman's
capital was maintained by his two successors but, in 921,
Jayavarman IV abandoned the region and established his
power centre at Koh Ker, north of the Kulen Hills.
In a subsequent reign, however, Rajendravarman II
(944-9.68) returned the capital to Angkor where it
remained until it was finally deserted in 1431, following
repeated invasions by the Thai.
Over
nearly three centuries, from the reign of Rajendravarman
II up to that of the last great builder-king, Jayavarman
VII (1181-1219), Angkor grew as successive monarchs built
monuments to their lasting power and glory.
Rajendravarman himself was responsible for two notable
temples, the lovely pyramid temple of Eastern Mebon and
the brick-and-laterite Pre Rup. His son, Jayavarman V
(968-1001), built Ta Keo as well as the minute but
exquisite Banteay Srei, located some 25 kilometres from
Angkor's main temple complex. Udayadityavarman II
(1050-1066), the second monarch of a new dynasty founded
after a brief power struggle, was the builder of the
Baphuon, a once grand temple mountain but poorly
preserved, and the Western Baray, another enormous
reservoir which, unlike the Eastern Baray, is still in use
today.
In 1080 a
new dynasty was established which was to rule until the
fourteenth century. Third in line was Suryavarman II (c I
11 3-1150), one of the Khmer's greatest kings and the
builder of Angkor's largest, most magnificent temple,
Angkor Wat. The Khmer Empire was now at the height
of its power, and the initial impact of Angkor Wat is as a
symbolic expression of that power; almost incidentally it
is also the most perfect expression of the civilization's
aesthetic. The effect was noted by Somerset Maugham.
"It is an impressive rather than a beautiful
building," he wrote in 1930, "and it needs the
glow of sunset or the white brilliance of the moon to give
it a loveliness that touches the heart."
After
Suryavarman II, the Khmer faced in creasingly troubled
times. A succession of major and minor upsets culminated
with the defeat of Angkor in 1177 by the Khmer's
traditional enemies, the Cham, who won a decisive naval
battle on the Tonle Sap. Ironically, out of this
disaster was to rise Angkor's last great monarch,
Jayavarman VII (1181-1219). A man of remarkable ability,
he succeeded in expelling the Cham and not only
reconstructed Angkor, but also embarked on an empire-wide
construction programme far more ambitious than anything
undertaken by his predecessors. At Angkor, Jayavarman
created a new city, Angkor Thorn, centred on the Bayon, as
well as building numerous other temples, notably Preah
Kahn and Ta Prohm.
Although
Angkor remained the centre of a viable empire for another
two centuries, the death of Jayavarman VII was the
beginning of the end. There was no more major building (or
none that has survived) and in spite of continuing
prosperity, Angkor was effectively in decline.
Increasingly, the Khmer were threatened by the emergent
kingdom of the Thai to the west. Finally in 1431, the Thai
sacked Angkor, the Khmer retreated and the city was
abandoned.
The Khmer
court did re-establish itself on the banks of the Mekong,
some 240 kilometres southeast on the site of Cambodia's
present-day capital, Phnom Penh, but it never again
achieved the power and influence it had known at Angkor.
The memory
of past glory lived on, however. Towards the end of the
sixteenth century the Cambodian monarch King Satha
considered moving back to the fmer capital and even made a
short-lived attempt at restoring some buildings. When this
failed, Angkor was still not forgotten. Its temples
retained regional fame as places of pilgrimage, and were
known, albeit for the most part by vague reputation, to
European missionaries.
Angkor has
remained in the memory essentially because of its temples,
and it is these massive stone monuments that constitute
the civilization's greatest legacy. Lawrence Palmer
Briggs makes the point in his book The Ancient Khmer
Empire. "The Khmers," he wrote, "left the
world no systems of administration, education or ethics
like those of the Chinese; no literatures, religions or
systems of philosophy like those of India; but here
oriental architecture and decoration reached its
culminating point."
It would
require a much longer and more searching introduction than
this to describe fully the complex development and
characteristic periods of Khmer architecture. Essentially,
as the civilization reached its full flowering the temple
form evolved from a single tower to a multi-towered
structure. Moreover, while early shrines stood at ground
level, later temples were grandiosely raised on terraced
pyramids. Vaulted galleries were introduced to link
individual sanctuaries into a single, intricate temple
complex. Materials also evolved, from wood for the
earliest prototypes to brick, late rite and finally
sandstone, the last lending itself to the relief carving
which defines Angkor's finest temples almost as
distinctively as the architect itself. These and other
changes reached a climax Angkor Wat.
The Khmer
master builders clearly erected the most magnificent
structures Southeast Asia ever seen, but as remarkable as
the architect although less obvious, was Angkor's mastery
over water on which the strength of the civilization
ultimately rested. Developing hydraulic engineering
techniques inherited from the earlier kingdoms of Chenla
and Funan, the Khmer of Angkor constructed an extensive
and highly advanced system of irrigation canals and huge
reservoirs.
In so
mastering the annual cycle of floods and drought brought
about by the alternating m soon seasons, the ancient Khmer
were able to harvest two and even three rice crops a
year. From this rich agricultural base Angkor built
up its power. Bountiful crop production not only sustained
a huge population - perhaps as high as one million - it
also freed large numbers of peasants from agricultural
work. Manpower was thus available for extending and
securing the boundaries of the empire and for building the
massive stone temples of the god-kings.
The
architectural brilliance of Angkor was not divorced from
its engineering genius. As Coedes has commented, there is
a vital connection between the regal powÃŒer symbolized in
the temple-mountain and the practical mastery of
water. "The fact is well known," the
historian wrote in Angkor: An Introduction, "that a
rice-growing country is dependent upon a regulated system
of irrigation which in turn is dependent on a strong and
stable central authority. If the control breaks down, the
water ceases to work its benefits, and abundance gives way
to misery."
While
control and efficient use of water served as Angkor's
economic base, the Khmer's inherited Indian influence - in
religion, philosophy and political beliefs - provided a
cultural framework. The two combined to form the
foundations on which a vast empire - and what was
essentially a new civilization could be sustained.
Central to
the civilization was the belief in a god-king. With a
religious practice that was essentially Hindu,
particularly Siva worsh, although also bound up with
elements of animism and Buddhism, the ancient Khmer saw
religion as all embracing and as possessing a political
function. Accordingly, it was the manifestation and
endorsement of the idea of the god-king, effected
primarily through a detailed and highly complex
interpretation of Hindu religious symbolism, which gave
form to Angkor.
Whoever
ruled Angkor was a god on earth, the divine representative
of Indra, and the god's capital was to take the form of
the universe in miniature, with the cosmic mountain, Mount
Meru, at its centre. This cosmology was expressed in
Angkor's city planning which centred on the
temple-mountain, an architectural representation of the
universe which, on the death of the king, became his
funerary monument.
That is a
very bald description of the meaning behind Khmer temple
architecture, and the details are intricate in the
extreme. But, remembering the vast majority of the Khmer
population were peasants, Angkor's impact must have been
immediate and not dependent on intellectual appreciation.
To quote Coedes again: "Notwithstanding its
symbolism, the great success of Khmer architecture is its
appeal to the uninformed as well as to the initiated . . .
Although Khmer architecture is better understood by a
comprehension of its symbolism, no explanations are needed
to reveal its originality and power."
Of all the
Khmer architectural wonders the finest is Angkor Wat, the
world's largest religious building. Taking 37 years to
complete and involving the labour of an estimated 50,000
artisans, workers and slaves, the temple forms a
rectangular enclosure measuring 1,500 metres by 1,300
metres and surrounded by a moat 200 metres wide. Inside
the outer walls, the structure is built up over three
levels rising to a central core topped by five distinctive
towers, the tallest reaching 65 metres. The
proportions alone are dramatic, while the long galleries
feature walls decorated with low-relief scenes of epic
legends, war and courtly life. Virtually every surface in
a labyrinth of chambers and courtyards is richly decorated
and carvings of nearly 2,000 apsaras, or celestial
dancers, appear like a visual refrain of an exquisite
melody.
Angkor Wat
is but the most impressive and most perfectly constructed
of numerous temples whose extensive ruins survive to form
one of the world's largest historical sites. Spread over a
core area of some 200 square kilometres are more than 70
major archaeological monuments and numerous lesser
remains. Although Angkor Wat is the most famous of
the sites, it is not necessarily the most emotive.
More
startling, even haunting, is the Bayon, lying a short
distance to the north. An imposing stone pile of 54
towers, each carved with four enigmatic faces of the
Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara, the Bayon was built by
Jayavarman VII and although it is much smaller and more
crudely constructed than Angkor Wat, it has an equal if
not greater impact on the imagination.
Known best
for its mysterious faces, the Bayon does nonetheless
possess at least equal interest in the bas-reliefs which
cover its outer walls. The artistry is far less refined
than that seen in the reliefs at Angkor Wat, but the
depiction of historical events and cameos of daily life is
more lively and more vital than Angkor Wat's somewhat
static and formal renderings of classical legend.
The Bayon stands at the centre of Angkor Thom (literally
"Great City"), which forms the core of the
ancient site as it survives today. This inner city,
as it were, is surrounded by a moat and approached at the
four cardinal points via massive stone gates and causeways
flanked by statues of gods and giants. Encompassed
within this central area are a number of notable monuments
in addition to the Bayon. These include the Baphuon, a
pyramidal representation of Mount Meru constructed in the
eleventh century at what was then Angkor's centre - a fact
which may account for the building's look of extraordinary
self-assurance.
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Two of the most outstanding
monuments beyond Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom are Preah Kahn and
Ta Prohm. Lying to the north of Angkor Thom, Preah Kahn is an
intricate and well-preserved late twelfth-century temple
complex, built by Jayavarman VII in memory of his father. Although often unfairly
overlooked by visitors, the temple is completely absorbing
in its veritable labyrinth of pavilions, halls and
chapels.
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Ta Prohm
is located to the east of Angkor Thom. Quite apart from
any architectural interest, its fascination stems from the
ruins having been intentionally left just as they were
when first rediscovered. With massive tree roots reaching
out as tentacles, the temple is held like Laocöon in the
convoluted grip of monstrous nature. The effect is
almost surreal, the seemingly melting form of fallen and
distorted stonework a Dali-esque metaphor for the
persistence of memory.
All these
monuments lie comparatively close to each other. Standing
in splendid isolation some 25 kilometres from the main
complex is Banteay Srei, an architectural jewel of carved
red sandstone. Constructed in the tenth century, the
monument is characterized by the smallness of its
collective edifices, yet its perfection of design and
decorative detail create a stunning impression quite
disproportionate to its size.
Unsurpassed
beauty, grace and symmetry typify not just Angkor's
temples but the entire civilization. If contemporary
accounts are to be believed, the city was to some a
paradise on earth, and the sensual world of apsaras
existed in more than just stone. "Chinese
sailors coming to the country note with pleasure that it
is not necessary to wear clothes, and, since rice is
easily had, women easily persuaded, houses easily run,
furniture easily come by, and trade easily carried on, a
great many sailors desert to take up permanent
residence." So commented Chinese diplomat Chou Ta-kuan,
who wrote a detailed account of life at Angkor in the
thirteenth century.
Chou Ta-kuan
seems to have been a man of marked curiosity, and his
observations range widely from accounts of royal pageantry
to descriptions of childbirth. His record is important for
us today because, unlike the ruins, it serves as a vivid
reminder that not only was Angkor a living city, but its
daily life was not so far removed from that seen today.
As a
living city Angkor would have extended well beyond its
stone walls and would have included many wooden buildings,
both sumptuous dwellings for the social elite and lowly
peasants' huts. While these fragile structures have
long sin been destroyed by time, the little wood-and-that
houses of the villages which surround Angk today cannot be
that dissimilar from those of t farmers who worked the
land a thousand ye ago. Nor is village life all that
different. "Each v lage has its temple, or at
least a pagoda," wr Chou Ta-kuan. "No
matter how small the villa it has a mandarin. Market
is held every day fr six o'clock till noon. There
are no shops in whi the merchants live; instead, they
display th goods on a matting spread upon the
ground."
The Khmer
world today is much the sa both in life and, tragically,
in death. "Only rece ly, during the war with
Siam, wholvillages ha been laid waste," reported Chou
Ta-kuan. In m ern times the enemy has changed but
not the mise When Henri Mouhot "rediscovered"
Ang in the mid-nineteenth century he was both aw and
dismayed. Although he thought the ruins the ancient
Khmer capital to be "grander than a thing left by
Greece or Rome", he also noted t 4 4 unluckily the
scourge of war, aided by time, great destroyer, has fallen
heavily on the greater part of the monuments." Today,
decay continues in spite of considerable gains since
Mouhot's journals first I sparked European interest in
Angkor.
The best
preserved and now most famous temples - notably Angkor Wat
and the Bayon were first restored by the French, who
established an Angkor Conservancy in 1908. Archaeological
activities continued uninterrupted until 1972 when
escalating war in Cambodia forced out the last foreign
experts and brought a veritable army of archaeologists and
assistants to an abrupt halt.
Surprisingly,
while the people of Cambodia suffered terribly during the
tragic decades of their country's recent history, the
major monuments of Angkor were little damaged by war. When
armed conflict raged throughout the 1970s and '80s two
decades when the only halt in fighting came with the Khmer
Rouge reign of terror from 1975 to '79 - the temples
received amazingly few direct hits from bullets, shells or
mortars. Vibration from nearby heavy artillery, which
shook the foundations of some temples, was the only real
harm that can be attributed directly to war. But if war
itself has destroyed little at Angkor, man's preoccupation
with war has resulted in extreme neglect which has left
the ruins unprotected against the ravages of nature.
Particularly damaging are the effects of tree roots and
water, both of which can undermine foundations and
threaten the structural stability of the monuments.
Although
nature presents the greatest threat to Angkor's ancient
buildings as a whole, man's greed has led to the plunder
of statuary and decorative artworks. The problem is not
new - thieves were stealing gold leaf and jewels commonly
buried with holy relies virtually as soon as the temples
were completed. The difference today is wholesale
plundering, with thieves operating on an increasingly
ambitious scale. Now the very fabric of the monuments is
being attacked as carved stone heads and other statuary
are being systematically removed. In just one week of 1993
five stone heads vanished from one of the causeways to
Angkor Thorn. Artifacts have even been stolen from the
comparative security of the Angkor Conservation Office.
With Khmer
art currently fetching anywhere between US$30,000 and
US$300,000 a piece, theft has become big business and so
highly organized that even huge pieces of sculpture which
cannot be lifted by hand are disappearing. Villagers
describing one incident in the early 1990s told how four
or five thieves had come with a truck and set up camp for
a few days. They had even brought their own cook.
The police
are mostly powerless to handle the situation, lacking much
necessary legal authority, as well as being severely
out-gunned by the robbers. UNESCO, the international
organization which is a major player in moves to
coordinate the conservation of Angkor, has been able to
offer some assistance, helping formulate legislation
against the theft of artworks, and showing police how to
patrol monuments. Even so, perhaps as much as 40
percent of Angkor's finest artwork has been lost, whisked
out of Cambodia and into the private museums of vanity
collectors, or into bank vaults where it is used as
long-term collateral.
In terms
of restoratn, the only undertaking of any significance
since the Khmer Rouge upheaval has been a six-year
cleaning and partial restoration project at Angkor Wat,
undertaken in 1986 by an Indian archaeological team.
The work has, however, been criticized by some experts
being poorly executed. It is worth noting
nonetheless that when, in the midst of civil war in the
early 1980s, the then Phnom Penh government made an appeal
for Angkor, India was the only country prepared to answer
the call.
A decade
later there was a marked change. As Cambodia's storm
clouds receded in the 1990s and, following UN-sponsored
elections, the country became more politically acceptable
in the eyes of a fickle world community, governments a
NG0s of various ilks began vying with each other in
bidding for what have come to be seen as prestigious
restoration projects.
Such
rivalry is both encouraging and disconcerting. On the one
hand assistance is needed but it is a potential recipe for
archaeological disaster if donor countries are to dictate
what restoration is to be done to which monument This is
especially worrying when certain temple are popularly
viewed as being more prestigious and hence more likely to
attract restoration projects - than others, regardless of
the archaeological considerations.
Of course,
Cambodia holds sovereign jurisdiction over Angkor and is
ultimately responsible for its preservation. Although in
dire need of outside financial and technical assistance,
Cambodia has indicated high-level commitment to a
comprehensive programme for the restoration, conservation
and management of its greatest cultural asset. This
follows the acceptance in 1992 of Cambodia as a signatory
to the World Heritage Convention, the most widely
recognized international legal instrument for the
protection of sites and monuments of exceptional cultural
and historical significance.
Unquestionably,
Angkor requires protection if its immense cultural
significance is to be preserved, but the exact nature of
the threats to the monuments' immediate and long-term
security tends to be clouded by alarmist tales. Claims
that the magnificent temples are crumbling unless the
world - and a few million dollars - comes to their rescue
may make good newspaper headlines but they bear little
relation to the facts.
UNESCO
dismisses ideas of imminent loss. "With the
exception of one or two of the oldest brick monuments,
none of the temples are in danger of total collapse,"
commented one expert. "The ruins were very well
restored by the French and that restoration is
holding."
Recognizing
multiple dangers to Angkor's security, UNESCO argues that
only a comprehensive, coordinated approach and not
piecemeal restoration will ensure proper
preservation. Accordingly, the organization has
proposed a "Zoning and Environmental Management
Plan" which seeks to offer not only structural
protection for the major monuments within an Angkor
Archaeological Park, but also protection of the entire
site through the creation of a surrounding Angkor Culture
Reserve, covering some 5,000 square kilometres from the
Great Lake in the south to the Kulen Hills in the north.
As Mouhot
observed a century ago, time is the great destroyer and,
ironically, it is perhaps progress rather than theft or
the ravages of nature which threatens most.
"Possibly
the biggest danger to the preservation of Angkor is
unplanned, headlong development," remarked a UNESCO
spokesman in 1993.
"The
tourist industry, uncoordinated prestige restoration
projects, huge development of Siem Reap as a provincial
centre - all these things could, in a very short time,
become overwhelming and make restoration impossible.
Angkor is an enormous cultural landscape, not just
isolated monuments. Unless that whole landscape is
conserved in some suitable way we will end up with a few
monuments scattered through a tremendous urban
sprawl."
This is a
daunting yet refreshing view, one that encourages us today
to take a passage through Angkor, appreciating it in its
entirety, not as the scattered remains of a long dead city
but as a vital design in the cultural fabric of the Khmer
world.
Passage
Through Angkor
Mark
Standen
Introduction
by John Hoskin
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