The Dawn of serenity: letter from Borobudur. (Indonesia)

by Eiji Hattori

UNESCO Courier

Pp.68-74

July-August 1994

COPYRIGHT UNESCO (France) 1994


            The Buddhist sanctuary of Borobudur (Indonesia) is one of the jewels 
            of the world cultural heritage. Eiji Hattori, a specialist in 
            Buddhist art and thought, has long been fascinated by this great 
            monument. Here he suggests a new interpretation of its symbolism. 
            DAWN. The endless forest of coconut trees is sleeping beneath white 
            mist, while to the east the elegant silhouette of Mount Merapi 
            stands out against a background of golden light. Smoke is rising 
            gently from the volcano. Here and there on the awakening plain below 
            a cock crows and breaks the silence. The lines of stupas stand like 
            silent shadows in the cool of the early morning. Among them I can 
            see the statue of a Buddha facing the rising sun; the new day's 
            light does not seem to disturb his meditation for an instant. 
            It is the dawn of serenity. 
            In the half light I can make out a man dressed in white sitting at 
            the foot of the central stupa. A strange vibration emanates from 
            him. I listen. He is murmuring a sutra. Perhaps one of Java's few 
            Buddhists,(1) his hands are joined as he calmly greets the sun that 
            by now is shining on Mount Merapi. Then he goes silently away. 
            This is not my first visit to Borobudur. The more I get to know this 
            monument, the more I am dazzled by its beauty. Some twenty years ago 
            UNESCO launched an appeal to the international community to save it. 
            Twenty-seven countries responded and worked with UNESCO and 
            Indonesian experts to move a million stones over a ten-year period 
            so that this chandi(2) could live again in its original form. 
            Borobudur is an exceptional place. It is not a temple--it has no 
            place for worship nor for making offerings--but a huge Buddhist 
            sanctuary that is both a stupa(3) and a mandala (a cosmic image). 
            In eighth-century Java the rulers of the prosperous Sailendra (saila 
            indra: king of the mountains) dynasty converted to Mahayana(4) 
            Buddhism, a form of Buddhism that came into being around the same 
            time as the beginning of the Christian era. Using the most advanced 
            techniques available, they built this brilliantly designed stone 
            mandala some time around the year 800. Thousands of labourers, 
            craftsmen and artists worked on it. But how brief was the life-span 
            of their masterpiece! Less than a century after its completion 
            Borobudur had disappeared into oblivion, rather like the earth 
            mandala in ancient India that returned to dust after seven days of 
            use. 
            Why did the dynasty, which had built other masterpieces in central 
            Java, abandon it in the tenth century and turn its attention to the 
            eastern pan of the island? Could it have been because of an eruption 
            of Mount Merapi and the violent earthquake that would have followed? 
            Like Pompeii beneath its shroud of ash, Borobudur fell into a 
            thousand-year sleep. It was not until 1814 that the legendary 
            chandi, buried deep in the jungle, was rediscovered by an agent sent 
            out by Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles, at that time the British 
            governor of Java. 
            The three spheres 
            Let us take a closer look at Borobudur. On the Kedu plain, formerly 
            known as the garden of Java, the sanctuary stands on the top of a 
            decapitated hill and is built of andesite, a bluish-grey volcanic 
            rock. It is a colossal pyramid of superimposed tiers that are 
            crowned by an enormous bell-shaped stupa. From a distance you can 
            tell that the whole construction is organized around this stupa. 
            At closer range you can see a heavy stone encasement around the base 
            that was probably built to shore up the monument during its 
            construction. It hides the real base or "hidden foot", which is 
            decorated with 160 reliefs, all of which were photographed shortly 
            after they were discovered in the late nineteenth century. 
            These "invisible" reliefs depict the Sphere of the Desires that the 
            human being is bound to, the kamadhatu. I do not agree with theories 
            that claim this part of the monument was deliberately covered up for 
            religious motives to prevent pilgrims from seeing it. On the one 
            hand, the "hidden foot" contains unfinished reliefs indicating that 
            work suddenly came to a halt due to some unexpected event. On the 
            other, as I shall explain later, such an error seems quite 
            inconceivable in such a carefully planned monument. This part of the 
            mandala symbolizes "extreme exteriority": each side has a stairway 
            in the middle, leading up to the monument's highest point. 
            The main structure of the sanctuary is composed of this foundation 
            and, standing on top of it, five square terraces. The superstructure 
            consists of three circular terraces. This is the basic shape of the 
            mandala: the square, a symbol of the earth, and the circle, 
            symbolizing the sky, combine to produce the number nine, the supreme 
            figure of Buddhism. 
            The galleries, which have to be visited clockwise to respect the 
            ritual circumambulation, begin on the second terrace. They are lined 
            with 1,300 wonderful bas-reliefs 2,500 metres long. This is 
            rupadhatu, the Sphere of Forms, in which the human being gives up 
            his thirst for desire but keeps his name and form. This immense 
            stone book relates Buddha's life as told in the sutras. Nooks 
            located on the outside of the balustrades that surround the 
            galleries each contain a stone Buddha seated cross-legged on a lotus 
            cushion. There are 432 in all. 
            Next we come to the foot of the upper part of the mandala. Here the 
            view to the outside, hitherto impeded by the balustrades, suddenly 
            opens up, so that one has a sense of spiritual breadth as one enters 
            the arupadhatu, the Sphere of Formlessness. 
            In Borobudur the transition from earth to sky, from form to 
            non-form, is made gently. The square form is not rigorously adhered 
            to: the edges around each square terrace jut out and break up the 
            hard right angles, perhaps in an attempt to use architecture to 
            relieve the monotony of the pilgrim's perambulation. Personally I 
            see an intentional transition to the circle. Aerial photos show that 
            the first two terraces are not exactly circular. A slight 
            deformation makes them more like squares! Only the topmost terrace 
            is a perfect circle. 
            Borobudur's three spheres mark the spiral stages of an ascension 
            that leads the pilgrim up to the stupa of ultimate truth. This 
            central stupa, whose walls are not perforated like those of the 
            others, contains nothing: the ultimate point is nothing but 
            emptiness (sunyata). Buddha himself is hidden. He is there yet not 
            there; he is being and non-being. Each of the seventy-two small 
            stupas with perforated walls that stand on the three terraces 
            contains a statue of the Buddha. His face can only be imperfectly 
            made out through the gaps in the stonework. These gaps are of 
            different shapes and become less numerous as one approaches the 
            central stupa, signifying the Buddha's increasing invisibility. All 
            these Buddhas have the same hand position (mudra): that of the 
            perpetually-moving wheel of the Law. 
            When we reach the summit, we suddenly share the cosmic vision of 
            Mahayana Buddhism. Here the supreme reality is unveiled, light is 
            born! Yes, Borobudur, which shimmers in a thousand colours from 
            morning to night, itself glistens like a huge beacon. The 
            sanctuary's 504 Buddhas face the four points of the compass and 
            embrace the world with merciful, shining eyes. Not only these 
            stupas, but the nooks in the wall-parapets, the little towers, the 
            smallest parts of the edifice all reach skywards as if to seize the 
            breath of passing clouds. 
            The mandala of mandalas 
            According to this interpretation, Borobudur is the lotus home of the 
            "Great Buddha of Light", who is depicted in a myriad of small, 
            finely carved Buddhas. Dust itself becomes light. As the doctrine of 
            Mahayana Buddhism has it. the one resides in the many, which is 
            itself the manifestation of the one. In the Gandhavyuha, the sacred 
            text of Mahayana Buddhism, light is not the enemy of shade: it is 
            the light of the original emptiness, which transcends the opposition 
            between being and nothingness. 
            Let us now look at the mandala--this esoteric image that aids active 
            meditation of the Buddhist cosmos--formed by Borobudur. Mandalas, 
            whether painted or sculpted, like the statues in the To-ji temple in 
            Kyoto, are always oriented in relation to a central point. 
            Borobudur, which looks out at the four points of the compass while 
            its "heart" is empty, is a perfect illustration of the mandala 
            concept. 
            In 1930 the French archaeologist and architect Henri Parmentier 
            suggested that Borobudur might have been originally conceived as an 
            immense stupa resting on square terraces but that problems of 
            stability forced the builders to rethink the plans for the upper 
            part. This theory was supported by several participants in the 
            international symposium on Borobudur held in Tokyo in 1980, but it 
            seems unacceptable to me. Even if Borobudur underwent minor changes 
            during its construction, the extreme rigour of its design rules out 
            the idea of any such architectural compromise. 
            A mysterious concordance 
            The mysterious concordance of the numbers one sees at Borobudur is 
            to my mind sufficient proof. As I have said, there are 432 Buddhas 
            on the square terraces and 72 others on the concentric terraces of 
            the upper part. These figures are not a mere coincidence. Since the 
            stairways divide each of these groups of statues by four, in each 
            case their total number (432 and 72) and the number of each group 
            thus obtained (108 and 18) can be divided by three and nine. In 
            other words, it is clear that the entire structure was conceived as 
            a function of the number three, which symbolizes unity and the 
            square of three, nine, a sacred number in Buddhism. 
            Another researcher, J. G. De Casparis, believed that the central 
            stupa crowning the structure was a tenth terrace, corresponding to 
            the ten stages passed through by the bodhisattva ("Buddha-to-be") 
            before reaching the state of Buddhahood. But when Borobudur was 
            built only six stages were practised in Java. Surely they are 
            represented in the six square terraces. But how can the transition 
            from the square to the circle be explained? 
            I had never been entirely happy with any of these interpretations. 
            Then one day I read the Juju shin ron (Treatise on the Ten Stages of 
            Thought) in which Kukai, the Japanese Buddhist Grand Master who 
            founded the esoteric Shingon sect at the beginning of the ninth 
            century, expounds his conception of the mandala. 
            In his eyes the "ascending transformation of the spirit", for which 
            the mandala is the pictorial expression, is effected in nine 
            exoteric (apparent) stages, followed by a final, esoteric (secret) 
            stage. Could there be any better definition of Borobudur's 
            architectural significance? Starting from the sphere of animal 
            desire, the monk eventually reaches the "spirit laden with mystery" 
            (Himitsu-shogon-Shin), the culminating and hermetic point. The 
            awakening he experiences then transforms the world into light. Was 
            this not the secret that the immense mandala was whispering to us in 
            the early light of dawn? 
            So is Borobudur a monument of esoteric Mahayana Buddhism? I cannot 
            say so categorically, but I am profoundly convinced that it is. 
            Let there be no mistake. I am not claiming that Kukai influenced the 
            building of Borobudur. I am only saying that Borobudur and Kukai's 
            teachings share a common source. Kukai himself was initiated into 
            the esoteric doctrine of Shingon (True Word) in China and introduced 
            the first mandala to Japan. 
            In which year did he return to his country? In 806, at the very time 
            when the Sailendra were building Borobudur on the island of Java. 
            Let us not forget either that the Todaiji, the temple of the Great 
            Buddha in Nara (Japan), the conception of which was based on the 
            same Gandavyuha that is illustrated along most of Borobudur's square 
            terraces, was inaugurated in 751, the date when work on the 
            foundations of the Javanese sanctuary is thought to have begun. 
            The sea route to China 
            This apparent coincidence is not confined to Japan and Indonesia. In 
            Ceylon at the same time thousands of monks practised the same 
            doctrine of Mahayana Buddhism in the monastery of Abhayagiri, which 
            was in permanent contact with China. And to reach China the 
            Sinhalese monks did not cross mountains but the sea! 
            This is where the maritime Silk Road comes in. It played a decisive 
            role in the story of the meeting of civilizations. It was a speedy 
            route for the exchange of goods and culture between the East and 
            West, perhaps even before there was an overland Silk Road. It was 
            used by many different peoples: Indians, Chinese, Greeks, Romans and 
            Arabs, as well as Indonesians. Ceylon was a port of call for those 
            who crossed the Indian Ocean, and once across the Malacca Straits 
            they either made a detour around Singapore or sailed along the 
            coasts of Sumatra and Java before heading northwards for Canton in 
            southern China. The maritime Silk Road eventually stretched from 
            Italy (Rome) to Japan (Nara), uniting the Indian Ocean, the western 
            Pacific, the China Sea, the Red Sea and the Gulf. 
            Borobudur must be seen in the context of this network of extremely 
            rich and varied maritime exchanges. The seas of Southeast Asia 
            teemed with activity in the seventh and eighth centuries. And when 
            talking about Indo-Javanese civilization, especially a Buddhist 
            monument, we should not forget the part played by cultural 
            influences from nations other than India. 
            Look carefully at th:e meditating Buddhas of Borobudur. Their 
            expression differs from that of Indian or Thai statues, and has a 
            greater affinity with those of China and Japan. Did not the 
            Sailendra have a large fleet that travelled to China as well as to 
            India and Ceylon? Moreover the monks of Abhayagiri often stopped in 
            Java on their way to China. They were even reported to have founded 
            a community in the eighth century on a hill near Borobudur. 
            Could there be a link between the presence of this monastic 
            community and the building of Borobudur? There is no definite proof, 
            but the shape of the stupas in Borobudur is not unlike that of the 
            stupas in the lotus style of Anuradhapura, Ceylon's ancient capital. 
            I also remember being struck by the resemblance between two statues 
            of Buddha discovered in the ruins of Abhayagiri and the statues at 
            Borobudur. 
            It is of course impossible to understand the conception of Borobudur 
            without referring to the local culture. In Indonesia there was a 
            form of ancestor worship that venerated the ancestors' spirits by 
            building tiered pyramids in their honour. Could this great 
            pyramid-shaped mandala have been built without such a tradition? The 
            world owes this unique heritage to the Indonesian people. 
            The sun has risen over Borobudur. My thoughts turn to the 
            outward-looking spirit of the eighth century. There were no cultural 
            boundaries then. Peoples absorbed each other's cultures like 
            travellers slaking their thirst together. Have those far-off times 
            gone forever? I cannot believe that they have. Down in the water 
            lotuses communicate with one another through their roots. Dew drops 
            on petals reflect the same moon that shines down on white flowers 
            thousands of miles apart. And the sun that shines on Mount Merapi 
            now shone on pilgrims' faces at a time when beauty was the splendour 
            of truth. 
            1. The Javanese converted to Islam in the 15th century. 
            2. A name given to Indonesia's oldest monuments. 
            3. A reliquary or commemorative monument. 
            4. A sanskrit word meaning "a great means of progression" or "Great 
            Vehicle". 
            Borobudur: from rediscovery to World Heritage listing 
            The site: a vast Mahayana Buddhist monument in the form of a 
            pyramid-shaped mandala, built in the heart of Java around 800 A.D. 
            by the Sailendra dynasty and abandoned shortly after its completion. 
            
            Size: the square base, with sides measuring some 120 metres, covers 
            an area of almost one and a half hectares; the central dome that 
            crowns the monument is almost 35 metres above the base. 
            1814: rediscovery of the monument by Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles, 
            who has the site cleared of rubble and vegetation. Specialists 
            compile documentation based on drawings. 
            1885: discovery of "the hidden foot"--the original base--and its 
            bas-reliefs concealed behind the retaining wall needed to keep the 
            structure from sliding. 
            1907-1911: Theodoor Van Erp carries out the first restoration work. 
            He dismantles and rebuilds the three circular terraces and the 
            stupas. 
            1955: Indonesia seeks UNESCO's advice on measures to prevent the 
            monument's dilapidation. 
            1972: UNESCO launches an international appeal to save Borobudur. 
            1975-1982: restoration work carried out. 
            23 February 1983: inaugural ceremony to mark the completion of 
            restoration work. Total cost: $20 million, two-thirds from the 
            Indonesian government, and $7 million from UNESCO's international 
            campaign, in which 27 countries took part. 
            1991: Borobudur included on UNESCO's World Heritage list. 
            EIJI HATTORI, of Japan, is currently an advisor for culture and 
            science to the Director-General of UNESCO. A UNESCO staff member for 
            many years, he initiated the Organization's Integral Study of the 
            Silk Roads project.