Jeffrey W. Cody
WHEN PLANNING for effcctivc conservation of grotto sites, such as the Mogao grottoes at Dunhuang, China's regional authorities and the State Bureau of Cultural Relics might consider some of the site-management practices adopted by other countries to protect their historic grottoes. This article will outline four of those lessons: (1) exercise caution with regard to premature public access; (2) balance local site control with central government assistance; (3) monitor environmental conditions frequently; and (4) be cautious about any conservation intervention.
These lessons are suggested by the management of four widely dispersed grottoes. Nearest to China are the Buddhist sites of Bamian, an area of intense Mahayana monasticism from the third to the eighth century c. E. in northern Afghanistan; and Sigiriya, a Theravada site from the fifth century c. E. in central Sri Lanka. The planning associated with the Paleolithic cave of Lascaux near Montignac in southwestern France and Canyon de Chelly, a U. S. National Monument in Arizona, also has relevant implications. The underlying argument is that historic grotto sites require not only conventional site management but also more specialized monitoring because of their inherent physical conditions, their often remote geographic locations, and the intense tourist-economic implications associated with the uniqueness of grotto sites.
One area exemplifying this uniqueness and remoteness is Bamian (near Shahidan), Afghanistan, 130 km northwest of Kabul and 2,600 m above sea level in a narrow valley at the foot of the Hindu Kush Mountains. Chinese explorers Faxian in the fifth century c. E. and Xuanzang in the seventh century wrote about Bamian as both a commercial and religious center, a site that reflected Buddhism's expanding appeal throughout Central Asia, noted as early as the first century (Grousset 1971). By the seventh century, Bamian had ten Hinayana monasteries whose monks, since at least the third century, had excavated and painted scores of grottoes in the hillsides for monastic cells (Hackin and Carl 1933; Tarzi 1977). Most of these caves have been destroyed, some by Islamic marauders in the eighth century, others by Genghis Khan in the early thirteenth century, and still others by
Afghan rebels as recently as the early 1980s (“Vasari” Diary 1981:14). Before the more recent turmoil in Afghanistan, the most compelling monuments in the region for tourists were the two standing Buddhas, one 53 m and the other 37 m in height, carved into the valley's cliffs. Xuanzang related how impressive these were when they were gilded over a chalky plaster, a covering that has since entirely eroded (Grousset 1971:82).
Bamian's grottoes share a cultural affinity with the Mogao grottoes near Dunhuang. The two sites' similarity regarding tourism also merits consideration. The Royal Afghan Government constructed a small tourist center at Bamian in the mid-1970s after a team of conservators from India assisted in the site's consolidation (Sengupta 1971). The encouragement the Afghan government implicitly provided to tourists to visit Bamian at a time when tourism was at a peak in Afghanistan demonstrates a first site-management example: to be cautious about attracting tourists if the site will suffer because tourist visits are not supervised properly. In Bamian, the government accommodated tourists, on the one hand, by building a small visitor center and by permitting locals to open guest houses; while, on the other hand, it insufficiently protected the site from tourists, who were allowed for a fee to explore at will and, all too often in the 1970s, to hunt for souvenirs. Even before the civil strife that began in the 1980s, there was no on-site interpretation to help visitors truly understand the site they were experiencing.
Bamian also provides a second lesson: the need to facilitate communication between national and provincial decision makers (including military forces), all of whom ideally should collaborate regarding conservation policies and enforcement. From the late 1970s to the present, Bamian has suffered from military conflicts because the grottoes have been used as places of refuge and have been in the line of fire.1 Occupation of the Mogao grottoes by Russian soldiers early in the twentieth century is a reminder that, despite geographic isolation, historic grotto sites sometimes unpredictably fall prey to military use. Furthermore, the actions of those wielding power over cultural property at the local level, such as those granting building permits for Bamian guest houses in the mid-1970s, sometimes contradict the intentions of those making decisions at the national level, such as the officials who decided in Kabul in 1969 to cooperate with Indian conservation experts.
Sigiriya, near the archaeological sites of Anuradhapura and Polonnaruwa in the so-called cultural triangle of north-central Sri Lanka, is a site that corroborates another of Bamian's site-management lessons: Be cautious about attracting too many tourists too soon. Rising 200 m above a lush plain, Sigiriya is a steep mound with a summit covering 1.6 ha, where King Kassapa constructed a fortress palace in 477 c. e., from which he ruled for seventeen years. During that period, the king ordered that Buddhist figures, or apsaras—some patterned after contemporary Gupta murals in Ajanta (India)—be painted in shallow niches created by overhangs below the summit (Paranavitana 1961). Of the several hundred apsaras that once filled these tempera paintings, only twenty-two survive.2 The apsaras are somewhat protected from atmospheric damage because of the overhangs
And from human contact because they are out of reach; the frescoes remain largely in the open air and thus are susceptible to damage from humidity and vandalism. The most significant act of vandalism occurred in mid-October 1967 (Udalagama 1970), when vandals climbed halfway up the rock, daubed green commercial paint on several of the wall paintings, scratched out portions of two figures, and stabbed a third panel with a pointed instrument.
At Sigiriya, although there is no tourist center and only a few interpretive signs, the central government has taken measures to bring tourists close to the monument. Furthermore, hundreds of local religious devotees visit the site regularly on certain days according to the lunar calendar. Brick steps have been constructed near massive sculptures of lions' feet at the base of the mound, stone steps have been created by chiseling into the mound, and metal walkways have been attached to ledges to allow for closer access to both the rock paintings and the summit. While these additions have facilitated visits for tourists (despite no guardrails at the summit), they have brought so many tourists so close that the site has suffered, as can be seen in weakened, rusting metal steps and railings.
If Sigiriya's lesson for Mogao is to be wary of too much tourism too soon, then the question raised by the experiences at both Sigiriya and Bamian is how one can shut off the tourist faucet once it has been turned on. The Mogao grottoes' administrators should not look to any one particular case for an answer to this question. However, what has occurred at two other sites provides some insight about how to consider the question. Although geographically removed from the Asian context, Lascaux and Canyon de Chelly yield lessons that resonate for Mogao because of their longer track records as grotto sites of international historic significance.
Discovered in 1940, the multichambered cave of Lascaux contains some of the most memorable examples of European Paleolithic art (10,000-20,000 B. P.). The site is one of approximately 140 such grottoes in France and one of 280 European prehistoric grottoes (Leroi-Gourhan 1979). Lascaux was open to the public until 1963, when deterioration was deemed so severe that the site was closed to tourists (Froidevaux 1955; [Daniel?] 1963). The French Ministry of Culture decided to stabilize the grotto's climate and then to continue to monitor that stability, and to restrict access to similarly threatened sites such as Les Eyzies-de-Tayac-Sireuil (Aquitaine).
To mitigate public outcry, the Ministry then decided to reproduce significant portions of the rock arts (Faux Lascaux 1972). The reproductions were housed nearby in a special center, affording visitors a vicarious pleasure in an appropriate context (Delluc and Delluc 1984). The success of this approach has led to similar ventures in Germany and Japan (Ministere de la Culture et Conseil General de la Dordogne 1990:41). In taking these measures, the French Ministry demonstrated a recognition that it had erred in allowing too much tourism too soon. To remedy this mistake, the national government allocated resources, communicated with provincial and local councils, and responded effectively to tourist needs. The rationale of the French Ministry to put a premium on site conserva-
Tion by climatic control at the expense of universal public access is a site-management lesson that Mogao administrators are heeding: the new tourist center at Mogao opened in 1994 and features reproductions of some of the Mogao grotto paintings. However, one of the ironies of Lascaux is that by protecting the site, the government has mummified it. This action, then, calls into question the logic of accepting Lascaux as the ideal model for grotto site management.
Finally, the management of the Canyon de Chelly National Monument in northeastern Arizona not only confirms the lessons indicated by the previous three cases but also underscores other lesson, particularly from a policy point of view. Canyon de Chelly National Monument, established in 1931 on the Navajo Reservation and Trust Lands, comprises three steep-walled sandstone canyons. More than one thousand rock art sites are included within the monument's boundaries, most of them from the Anasazi culture of 700-1300 c. e. (U. S. Department of the Interior 1989). The Navajo Nation practices traditional activities—such as grazing livestock, farming, and hunting within the monument area; access to the site for non-Navajos is normally limited to the White House Ruins trail. In the past decade, several unresolved issues have illustrated that despite more than sixty years of site “protection” site management at Canyon de Chelly is far from ideal. Four salient issues, as they relate to the Mogao grottoes, are the following:
First, how should the protection of the historical ruins be reconciled with the interpretation of the ways of life of the Navajo today? Resolution of this question would imply significant changes to the visitor center and relevant interpretive programs. Of relevance to Mogao might be first to consider how the Buddhist nature of the site relates to ethnic minorities living in Gansu Province today, and then to interpret those relationships for visitors with appropriate signage and written information in several languages.
A second significant issue at Canyon de Chelly is how to better define and enforce the vaguely articulated boundaries of the monument. To resolve this would imply the allocation of more government staff and resources in a time of budgetary reductions. In light of this problem, Mogao's managers today might well consider the issue of site boundary carefully because of what it implies for future managers who will inherit today's definitions.
Third, administrators at Canyon de Chelly are asking how to prevent damage to the site from heightened commercial and residential development. Despite the remoteness of the monument when it was established, only six decades later the area is coveted by private companies for its raw materials and by tourists for its pristine location. Mogao policy makers might heed this lesson as well, especially in the context of current provincial disputes about illegal dumping of toxic wastes (Yeung 1993).
Finally, Canyon de Chelly administrators are considering the question of how to avoid overlapping jurisdictions among the National Park Service, the Bureau of Indian Affairs, and the Navajo Nation. Too much inaction, duplication of effort, and misunderstanding have resulted from
Not knowing who should decide questions regarding land use, trespassing, vandalism, and site conservation. Although Mogao's administrators might be relieved to hear that the United States, too, has serious problems regarding one work unit's control over another unit's actions, the lesson is that the site ultimately suffers unless questions of jurisdiction are resolved early and, in an ideal sense, amicably and comprehensively
What, then, are the four crucial site-management lessons suggested by Bamian, Sigiriya, Lascaux, and Canyon de Chelly?
1. Don't be seduced by the economic benefits of tourism by allowing access too soon. All of the sites outlined above have had to modify their policies regarding human contact with their grotto sites. Careful planning now will save money, and better protect the site, for the future. Prepare for the unpredictable. Provide more interpretive material for tourists, rather than less, respecting their desire to understand the site even if they are not permitted universal access.
2. Balance local site control with central government assistance, specifically determining who will handle each issue. Bamian illustrates that the scale is tipping toward localism; Canyon de Chelly shows what can occur when too much jurisdiction is exercised by overlapping national agencies; Lascaux demonstrates an attempt at finding a middle ground.
3. Monitor the grottoes' physical condition as often as feasible, and correct problems as soon as possible. Today's solutions (allowing visitors in Lascaux, or constructing metal stairways in Sigiriya) might well become tomorrow's problems.
4. Because each grotto site is unique, each solution requires careful study before intervention. Because there is no single model to follow, there is a need to be flexible and vigilant. Based on the consideration of site-management lessons gleaned from four sites on three continents, Chinese administrators should strive for careful site management with distinctive Chinese characteristics. What are those characteristics? That is for the Chinese to decide.
Notes
In the fall of 1993, an unnamed cultural affairs officer at the Embassy of Afghanistan in Washington, D. C., verified that Bamian had suffered an unspecified amount of damage from military activities. Because of “more pressing social needs,” he said, no comprehensive survey of the damage has been conducted. For an earlier indication of damage to Afghan historic sites during the recent civil turmoil, see “The ‘Vasari' Diary” 1981:14.
As reported by Udalagama (1970), Khan Ullah, an Indian chemist, determined in the early 1950s that the tempera paintings had originally been applied to a trilayered surface consisting of (1) a plaster of liver-red alluvium, vegetable fiber, and rice husk on the rock surface; (2) a composition of sand, clay, lime, and vegetable fiber; and (3) a sand and lime mortar.
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