Beleaguered Borobudur

Some have hailed it as the eighth wonder of the world, others as the rival to Angkor Wat. That may be slightly hyperbolic, but everyone who has made the pilgrimage to Indonesia's temple of Borobudur, just outside Jogjakarta, ranks the soaring pyramidal shrine as one of the world's most magnificent examples of Buddhist architecture. Virtually untouched by tourism, the massive monument rises symmetrically from the serene green plains of central Java.

Like most Buddhist shrines, Borobudur's architecture (see color opposite and overleaf) is symbolic. Rising in stepped terraces, signifying the ten stages of the Buddhist Way of Salvation, the temple is crowned by a bell-shaped stupa. Dozens of dagobas, or small stupas, dot the terraces, while the solid superstructure, measuring 400 ft. at the base and rising to a majestic 130 ft. in height, is laced with open galleries displaying statues and reliefs telling the story of Buddha's life.

Digging Out. No one knows for sure who ordered Borobudur to be built. Inscriptions on stones point to the Shailendra dynasty, which ruled Java in the 8th and 9th centuries. But there is little doubt that it required armies of laborers to lug its huge volcanic stones into place from nearby mountain slopes, and another army of artisans to carve out some three miles of bas-reliefs. What caused the massive temple to be abandoned is equally obscure, although evidence suggests it was caused by the volcanoes that form the spine of Java. For centuries, it lay buried under jungle rot and volcanic ash.

Not until the early 1800s did Dutch colonialists examine this strange mound and discover the temple. They did little except to add a teahouse to what appeared to be the main stupa of the complex. Then in 1907, a Dutch military engineer named T. Van Erp began digging out the ancient ruins. Van Erp laid bare the magnificent carvings and in four years reconstructed Borobudur in its entirety. Only the floors were new. The rest was all there to be put back into place, including some 3,000 pieces of statuary, 432 balustrade niches and 72 latticed stupas, each with its own Buddha image.

Falling Walls. Van Erp, alas, reconstructed the temple on filled land. Even before he was finished, walls began to tilt. Fungi, salt and moss set in, and in the 1950s archaeologists found that water seeping down through the temple was threatening its very foundation. Pleas for funds went out, but Borobudur once again fell victim, this time to political upheavals.

Finally, strapped by a hard-pressed economy, Indonesia has taken the plight of Borobudur to the United Nations, arguing that a "monument to all mankind" is at stake. After a searching survey, UNESCO's Bernard Groslier, conservator of Angkor Wat, and Dutch Hydrologist Caesar Voute have now agreed, and next month will recommend a $3,000,000, seven-year restoration program. Indonesians see prompt UNESCO aid as their only hope. "The balance now is precarious," warns one Indonesian archaeologist. "The walls of Borobudur could fall down today, and they could fall down in 20 years. We can't predict."

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