Why was the original base encased?
Many theories and conjectures have been put forwards. These can be summed up in two trends of thought, whether the base was covered for technical structural/architectural reasons, or for conceptual/religious reasons. The present author’s study has led her to a conjecture in favour of the religious reasons.
During the two restorations of the monument, in the 1970s and in the early 20th century, numerous unexpected technical and architectural features were brought to the light. These new data could only be explained by one hypothesis: the Borobudur as we see it today is not the monument that was originally planned. At some point during its construction, the original plans were changed: not only the base was hidden by a broad terrace, but balustrades were added and entrances were narrowed. These modifications, probably carried out by the command of a new architect, possibly reflect a change of the religious tendencies. Certain aspects of the reliefs of the hidden base would indeed not have been suitable for the Mahayana teachings as professed in 9th century Java.
Lots have been said about the religiously or conceptually ‘unsuitable’ features of this set of reliefs in relations to Buddhist thinking, as well as in the eyes of the later priestly architect of Borobudur, who must have been the one who gave order for the encasement of the old base. Stutterheim has put his fingers on the violent nature of the many hell scenes, with their many gruesome forms of severe punishment vividly and elaborately unfolded in front of the spectators’ eyes [ 1 ].
It is true that the quantity of such revelations of violence is in an even-handed ratio with happy scenes of good deeds and their rewards, thus forming a fair balance between the show of the negatives and the positives. And yet, we notice that the ‘positive’ scenes of rewards and of paradises are rather stereotypical and quite cursory unfolded, usually without any specification or distinguished detail, in contrast with depictions of the retributions in the hells. The Karmavibhanga itself actually gives only cursory references to the rebirth in hells, without further specifications. Vivid, variant descriptions of the many types of hells were obtained by the priest-designer from other sources (a.o. the Abhidharmakosa) [ 2 ]. The emphasis of his intent and his visual presentation did appear to lie heavily and more vividly on such violent ‘negative’ and gruesome scenes [ 3 ].
It is true that these scenes of torture and suffering also tell us of the facts of life from the true conviction of the Buddhists, hard and unpleasant facts which are inseparable from the immutable law of causes and results. And yet, we can reason that they pertain to the negative side of the ultimate truth - the unwholesome side that the practitioners should not concentrate on. It has always been a common practice among Buddhists and Hindus to constantly direct their thought and their mind to positive matters that will bring good results in terms of spiritual progress and final liberation. Hell scenes usually form part of visual depictions of Buddhist cosmology only when these explain the geography of the universe, but rarely or never are included in such sacred designs on which worshippers are meant to meditate on. Parallel examples of such diagrams for meditation and contemplation can be found almost everywhere, e.g. in the ritual art of Tibet, as well as in such designs, which we find engraved or painted on Southeast Asian depictions of the blessed foot symbols of the Buddha [ 4 ]. Examples of the Buddha foot-symbol from Thailand and Myanmar display in such sacred designs only auspicious and positive components of the universe, which are defined as mangala (auspicious features), and are believed to assemble on the foot-soles and in the person of the Buddha. Sculptured depictions of such foot-symbols are usually regarded as objects of worship, and can be found installed and venerated in a shrine of their own in Thai and Burmese temple complexes. In Myanmar, paintings of a pair of such sacred foot-marks often adorn the summit of the vault that expands over the worshipping hall, to symbolically shower down blessings upon the believers. In Thailand, we have inscriptions explaining the purpose of the making and dedication of such symbols ‘for the good progress and spiritual benefits of the venerable monks’ (an inscription from Sukhothai). On such visual depictions designed for the uplift and purification of the mind, only elements of the good worlds (sugati), namely the human world where we live, the six heavens of the Sphere of Desire (Kamadhatu), and the sixteen higher heavens of the Rupadhatu are depicted, and nothing at all from the darker, lower and unhappy worlds of the animals, of the hungry ghosts or the hells. A similar concept, based on the auspicious features (mangalas/sarvamangala) that will bring good tiding, prosperity and success, is also found visually depicted and elaborated many times in the reliefs on the 3rd and 4th galleries of Borobudur itself (reliefs nos. III, 51-77 and IV B 1-17). While the texts repeatedly refer to ‘all dominions of the universe’ where the grace and compassion of the Buddha and the redeeming force of Buddhahood pervade, no visual depictions of the unhappy worlds of hells are represented on the upper galleries of Borobudur.
The set up of Borobudur conforms to that of a diagram for contemplation and meditation, which should exclude ‘negative’ elements of evil thought and deeds, of mistakes and violence – the non-beneficial elements that would only gather like dusts of defilement to cloud and weigh down the mind on its upwards surge to purity and Salvation.
The second feature that could have made this set of reliefs ‘unsuitable’ and ‘unwholesome’ in the eyes of the new priest-architect of Borobudur is its opening scene [ 5 ]. Not only that there is no visual depiction of the usual conventionally auspicious opening, such as we usually find in sacred texts, to worship and invoke the blessing of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, this series of reliefs begins with an explosion of extremely violent deeds, of killing and taking lives of the innocence, accompanied by a joyful but completely misplaced celebration at that very place of killing. Such cannot be considered auspicious either to the founder or the users of the monument. Buddhists, Hindus and believers of other ancient belief systems attach much importance to auspicious beginning of any enterprise, considering it the first step to success and smooth prosperous undertaking. This violent opening scene may have shocked or at least disturbed the new priestly advisor of the Shailendras, who took charge of the final building phase of Borobudur.
Many theories and conjectures have been put forwards. These can be summed up in two trends of thought, whether the base was covered for technical structural/architectural reasons, or for conceptual/religious reasons. The present author’s study has led her to a conjecture in favour of the religious reasons.
During the two restorations of the monument, in the 1970s and in the early 20th century, numerous unexpected technical and architectural features were brought to the light. These new data could only be explained by one hypothesis: the Borobudur as we see it today is not the monument that was originally planned. At some point during its construction, the original plans were changed: not only the base was hidden by a broad terrace, but balustrades were added and entrances were narrowed. These modifications, probably carried out by the command of a new architect, possibly reflect a change of the religious tendencies. Certain aspects of the reliefs of the hidden base would indeed not have been suitable for the Mahayana teachings as professed in 9th century Java.
Lots have been said about the religiously or conceptually ‘unsuitable’ features of this set of reliefs in relations to Buddhist thinking, as well as in the eyes of the later priestly architect of Borobudur, who must have been the one who gave order for the encasement of the old base. Stutterheim has put his fingers on the violent nature of the many hell scenes, with their many gruesome forms of severe punishment vividly and elaborately unfolded in front of the spectators’ eyes [ 1 ].
![[ 1 ]](images/story7-1.jpg){kind=link}
It is true that the quantity of such revelations of violence is in an even-handed ratio with happy scenes of good deeds and their rewards, thus forming a fair balance between the show of the negatives and the positives. And yet, we notice that the ‘positive’ scenes of rewards and of paradises are rather stereotypical and quite cursory unfolded, usually without any specification or distinguished detail, in contrast with depictions of the retributions in the hells. The Karmavibhanga itself actually gives only cursory references to the rebirth in hells, without further specifications. Vivid, variant descriptions of the many types of hells were obtained by the priest-designer from other sources (a.o. the Abhidharmakosa) [ 2 ]. The emphasis of his intent and his visual presentation did appear to lie heavily and more vividly on such violent ‘negative’ and gruesome scenes [ 3 ].
![[ 2 ]](images/story7-2.jpg){kind=link}
![[ 3 ]](images/story7-3.jpg){kind=link}
It is true that these scenes of torture and suffering also tell us of the facts of life from the true conviction of the Buddhists, hard and unpleasant facts which are inseparable from the immutable law of causes and results. And yet, we can reason that they pertain to the negative side of the ultimate truth - the unwholesome side that the practitioners should not concentrate on. It has always been a common practice among Buddhists and Hindus to constantly direct their thought and their mind to positive matters that will bring good results in terms of spiritual progress and final liberation. Hell scenes usually form part of visual depictions of Buddhist cosmology only when these explain the geography of the universe, but rarely or never are included in such sacred designs on which worshippers are meant to meditate on. Parallel examples of such diagrams for meditation and contemplation can be found almost everywhere, e.g. in the ritual art of Tibet, as well as in such designs, which we find engraved or painted on Southeast Asian depictions of the blessed foot symbols of the Buddha [ 4 ]. Examples of the Buddha foot-symbol from Thailand and Myanmar display in such sacred designs only auspicious and positive components of the universe, which are defined as mangala (auspicious features), and are believed to assemble on the foot-soles and in the person of the Buddha. Sculptured depictions of such foot-symbols are usually regarded as objects of worship, and can be found installed and venerated in a shrine of their own in Thai and Burmese temple complexes. In Myanmar, paintings of a pair of such sacred foot-marks often adorn the summit of the vault that expands over the worshipping hall, to symbolically shower down blessings upon the believers. In Thailand, we have inscriptions explaining the purpose of the making and dedication of such symbols ‘for the good progress and spiritual benefits of the venerable monks’ (an inscription from Sukhothai). On such visual depictions designed for the uplift and purification of the mind, only elements of the good worlds (sugati), namely the human world where we live, the six heavens of the Sphere of Desire (Kamadhatu), and the sixteen higher heavens of the Rupadhatu are depicted, and nothing at all from the darker, lower and unhappy worlds of the animals, of the hungry ghosts or the hells. A similar concept, based on the auspicious features (mangalas/sarvamangala) that will bring good tiding, prosperity and success, is also found visually depicted and elaborated many times in the reliefs on the 3rd and 4th galleries of Borobudur itself (reliefs nos. III, 51-77 and IV B 1-17). While the texts repeatedly refer to ‘all dominions of the universe’ where the grace and compassion of the Buddha and the redeeming force of Buddhahood pervade, no visual depictions of the unhappy worlds of hells are represented on the upper galleries of Borobudur.
![[ 4 ]](images/story7-4.jpg){kind=link}
The set up of Borobudur conforms to that of a diagram for contemplation and meditation, which should exclude ‘negative’ elements of evil thought and deeds, of mistakes and violence – the non-beneficial elements that would only gather like dusts of defilement to cloud and weigh down the mind on its upwards surge to purity and Salvation.
The second feature that could have made this set of reliefs ‘unsuitable’ and ‘unwholesome’ in the eyes of the new priest-architect of Borobudur is its opening scene [ 5 ]. Not only that there is no visual depiction of the usual conventionally auspicious opening, such as we usually find in sacred texts, to worship and invoke the blessing of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, this series of reliefs begins with an explosion of extremely violent deeds, of killing and taking lives of the innocence, accompanied by a joyful but completely misplaced celebration at that very place of killing. Such cannot be considered auspicious either to the founder or the users of the monument. Buddhists, Hindus and believers of other ancient belief systems attach much importance to auspicious beginning of any enterprise, considering it the first step to success and smooth prosperous undertaking. This violent opening scene may have shocked or at least disturbed the new priestly advisor of the Shailendras, who took charge of the final building phase of Borobudur.
![[ 5 ]](images/story7-5.jpg){kind=link}
Then the last feature that may have been considered ‘unsuitable’ by the new priest-designer of Borobudur. Both the sculptured panels and the major text that inspired them, the Karmavibhanga, breathe out an ancient Buddhist principle which is still strongly adhered to by the Hinayana Theravada Buddhists. In all the hell scenes of torment and suffering, the victims are entirely on their own, punished by their very own past deeds [ 6 ]. In the entire content of the Karmavibhanga, there are no references whatsoever to the tenet of Universal Love and Compassion, which is condensed and crystallized in Bodhisattva worship – the main characteristic of the Mahayana religion. The same conservative pattern of thought was faithfully followed in the sculptured reliefs. In all panels dealing with suffering and punishments in hell (reliefs nos. 86-91), and in the unhappy world of the hungry ghosts (relief no. 95) and the animals (relief no. 93), the victims are all on their own, entirely dependent on their own karmas. This paradigm of absolute self-reliance would have clashed uncomfortably with the spirit of the Mahayana, the religion of the Shailendras, which centred round the worship of the Bodhisattva Saviours and Tara Saviouresses, such as we know from their monuments and inscriptions, and as being unfolded repeatedly in the reliefs of the 3rd and 4th gallery of Borobudur itself. The usual Mahayana way of depicting such scenes of torment and suffering would have been to add an image of the Saviour, either in the form of a Buddha or a Bodhisattva, to tell the believers that the redeeming force of the good doctrine of the Buddha is everywhere, even in the darkest and the most miserable of all hells [ 7 ]. Some Hinayana Theravadas of the later times, also make certain exceptions to this severe law of self-help, by devising a legendary figure of an enlightened disciple of the Buddha called Maliyathera or Pra Malai, who is believed to have visited heavens and hells, to bring some relief and redeeming messages to the sufferers in the infernal worlds.
The severe principle of self-help, underlined by this set of reliefs, would not have been found suitable for the Mahayana teachings as professed in 9th century Java. The Mahayana texts Gandavyuha and Bhadracari, visually unfolded on the 3rd and 4th galleries of Borobudur, consistently emphasise the concept of ‘the Buddhas of all Dominions’. Furthermore, Maitreya, the Future Buddha, set examples for all the Future Buddhas including Samantabhadra and Sudhana who play the principal roles in the Gandavyuha and Bhadracari scenes on these upper terraces, to preach and to save living beings of all kinds and in all forms, be they high or low, good or wicked, happy or miserable, in all the six dominions, the ten quarters and the three time spans of the universe (reliefs nos. III, 67-76 and IV, 2-72).
There seem to have been many ‘unsuitable’ aspects of this set of reliefs in the eyes of the new priest-designer of Borobudur. Certain changes in religious perception would have been expected to take place during the construction of Borobudur. The Shailendras’ inscriptions, dating from 778 CE to the first half of the 9th century, contain indications of new religious trends that entered their world during this period. One or more of the later gurus, acting as chief architect-designers of their sacred foundations, must have been responsible for the change of plan at Borobudur, and likewise to the encasement of its original base. The decision to remove this series had obviously been taken before the base was entirely finished, possibly simultaneously with the making of the new structural plan for the monument, which included a new design for all its terraces. This, according to Dumarçay would have taken place around 792 CE.
A support to our theory subscribing to religious motivations for the encasement of the original base can be found in the 1890/1891 photographs made of the now hidden base. Looking at the images preserved in these photographs, it occurs to us that there had been distinctively systematic and careful efforts to delete the sculptured reliefs, panel by panel at different sections. This is clearly seen in many of Cephas’ photographs [ 8 ]. The most heavily damaged panels are in the western section of the southern side (reliefs nos. 45, 46 and more) [ 9 ]. Most of the figures and other sculptured themes appear to have been deleted with much intention and care, not at all in consonance with hateful actions one would expect from fanatic iconoclasts. It is unlikely that such actions were due to vandalism, lashed out on these panels during the very short time when the base had been exposed. Old reports tell us that the reliefs had been uncovered section by section to be photographed, then covered up immediately again afterwards. There was no time nor opportunity for the panels to have been damaged during this extremely short interval of their exposition. Archaeological works were actively going on at that time at and around Borobudur, meaning that the monument would have been under the constant supervision of the Archaeological Service and their dedicated officers. This attempt to delete the scenes must have been made before the architect-designer decided to encase the entire lower base altogether within the new terrace that formed part of the new structural design of Borobudur.
The main purpose was obviously to blot out this ‘unsuitable’ series from the visions of the on-lookers. The destructive operation would have begun by having the components of the scenes chiselled away part by part. This rash and uncommon decision, actually and essentially involving a destruction, even partly, of a religious monument, was evidently terminated after sometime, to be replaced by a more proper method of renovation and remodelling sacred monuments, namely, to enclose the old structure within a new shell. This has been a common practice of the Buddhists since the ancient times, in India, Sri Lanka, Myanmar, Thailand and Indonesia itself.
The damaged panels and their photographic images from 1890-1891 thus tell their story, which is to be interpreted in favour of religious motivations to encase the original base including - or rather because of - its ‘unsuitable’ or ‘ unhappy’ sculptured components. There could have also been certain technical requirements in the course of the building operations, but such would not have been essential reasons for the base to be covered. If structural requirements had actually been the primary concern and a true necessity, there would have been no need to waste time nor labour to carefully scrape away the sculptured scenes first before eventually encasing them forever in a shell of stone.
![[ 6 ]](images/story7-6.jpg){kind=link}
![[ 7 ]](images/story7-7.jpg){kind=link}
The severe principle of self-help, underlined by this set of reliefs, would not have been found suitable for the Mahayana teachings as professed in 9th century Java. The Mahayana texts Gandavyuha and Bhadracari, visually unfolded on the 3rd and 4th galleries of Borobudur, consistently emphasise the concept of ‘the Buddhas of all Dominions’. Furthermore, Maitreya, the Future Buddha, set examples for all the Future Buddhas including Samantabhadra and Sudhana who play the principal roles in the Gandavyuha and Bhadracari scenes on these upper terraces, to preach and to save living beings of all kinds and in all forms, be they high or low, good or wicked, happy or miserable, in all the six dominions, the ten quarters and the three time spans of the universe (reliefs nos. III, 67-76 and IV, 2-72).
There seem to have been many ‘unsuitable’ aspects of this set of reliefs in the eyes of the new priest-designer of Borobudur. Certain changes in religious perception would have been expected to take place during the construction of Borobudur. The Shailendras’ inscriptions, dating from 778 CE to the first half of the 9th century, contain indications of new religious trends that entered their world during this period. One or more of the later gurus, acting as chief architect-designers of their sacred foundations, must have been responsible for the change of plan at Borobudur, and likewise to the encasement of its original base. The decision to remove this series had obviously been taken before the base was entirely finished, possibly simultaneously with the making of the new structural plan for the monument, which included a new design for all its terraces. This, according to Dumarçay would have taken place around 792 CE.
A support to our theory subscribing to religious motivations for the encasement of the original base can be found in the 1890/1891 photographs made of the now hidden base. Looking at the images preserved in these photographs, it occurs to us that there had been distinctively systematic and careful efforts to delete the sculptured reliefs, panel by panel at different sections. This is clearly seen in many of Cephas’ photographs [ 8 ]. The most heavily damaged panels are in the western section of the southern side (reliefs nos. 45, 46 and more) [ 9 ]. Most of the figures and other sculptured themes appear to have been deleted with much intention and care, not at all in consonance with hateful actions one would expect from fanatic iconoclasts. It is unlikely that such actions were due to vandalism, lashed out on these panels during the very short time when the base had been exposed. Old reports tell us that the reliefs had been uncovered section by section to be photographed, then covered up immediately again afterwards. There was no time nor opportunity for the panels to have been damaged during this extremely short interval of their exposition. Archaeological works were actively going on at that time at and around Borobudur, meaning that the monument would have been under the constant supervision of the Archaeological Service and their dedicated officers. This attempt to delete the scenes must have been made before the architect-designer decided to encase the entire lower base altogether within the new terrace that formed part of the new structural design of Borobudur.
![[ 8 ]](images/story7-8.jpg){kind=link}
![[ 9 ]](images/story7-9.jpg){kind=link}
The main purpose was obviously to blot out this ‘unsuitable’ series from the visions of the on-lookers. The destructive operation would have begun by having the components of the scenes chiselled away part by part. This rash and uncommon decision, actually and essentially involving a destruction, even partly, of a religious monument, was evidently terminated after sometime, to be replaced by a more proper method of renovation and remodelling sacred monuments, namely, to enclose the old structure within a new shell. This has been a common practice of the Buddhists since the ancient times, in India, Sri Lanka, Myanmar, Thailand and Indonesia itself.
The damaged panels and their photographic images from 1890-1891 thus tell their story, which is to be interpreted in favour of religious motivations to encase the original base including - or rather because of - its ‘unsuitable’ or ‘ unhappy’ sculptured components. There could have also been certain technical requirements in the course of the building operations, but such would not have been essential reasons for the base to be covered. If structural requirements had actually been the primary concern and a true necessity, there would have been no need to waste time nor labour to carefully scrape away the sculptured scenes first before eventually encasing them forever in a shell of stone.