Angkor Imperiled

CAMBODIA

A rare bright spot in the Indochina war has been the seemingly charmed survival of Angkor Wat, the fabulous, vine-covered imperial ruins that are revered today as the centerpiece of ancient Cambodian culture. Even after a Viet Cong regiment and several Khmer Rouge (Cambodian Communist) battalions slipped into the undefended city 20 months ago, Angkor Wat seemed protected by a United Nations convention preserving national monuments from wartime damage. A French-sponsored team that had been meticulously restoring the city's 800-year-old bas-relief galleries, statues and fluted balustrades was permitted by the Communists to continue its work. The Cambodians decided not to try to drive the enemy out.

Last week that unspoken truce was broken as 4,000 Cambodian troops began encircling Angkor in an attempt to cut off the Communists' supply lines and starve them into submission. It was an uneven contest. The Communists could strike out at any point on the city's 60-mile perimeter, and had all the defensive advantages of an underground bunker complex. Government troops, meanwhile, were under strict orders not to direct artillery fire at the city and to use even their rifles sparingly.

Stray Rounds. The Communists, however, were on the losing side in another respect—a national furor over the desecration of the ruins. Last month the Communists abruptly expelled Bernard Groslier, the imperious, Cambodian-born Frenchman who had tried to carry on his restoration work under the occupation, and jailed some 40 local villagers who had been helping him. According to Viet Cong defectors—some of whom brought out snapshots of themselves taken in the temple area—several stray Communist and government mortar rounds had also fallen on historical buildings. A former V.C. captain, Tran Van Ky, has conceded that "we were given orders not to touch the statues and temples, but that order was often ignored."

By night, according to the defectors, the Communists stole pieces of ancient Khmer art to finance their occupation. Such art finds ready markets abroad. Complains one Cambodian cultural official: "In Thailand, dealers usually say the Angkor statues are 'from private collections'; in Hong Kong, merchants don't even bother to give an explanation. They just say take it or leave it."

Blowing Sand. Phony objects "from Angkor" are not unknown on the international art market, where almost any piece of ancient Cambodian art is peddled under that label. Moreover, none of the defectors claimed that they actually saw the Communists carry off Angkor's treasures. But experts familiar with the art of Angkor have seen apparently authentic pieces on sale in Bangkok. Recently, in the back room of a reputable Bangkok art store, the curator of Cambodia's National Museum was shown an exquisite, small Bakheng statue from the Angkor complex. Price: $2,000,000.

Whatever the facts, Angkor itself is the almost certain loser. "If the repairs are not completed immediately," a member of the restoration team told TIME'S David DeVoss, "all our efforts will be wasted. Most of the walls are supported only by wooden beams and sand. When the sand blows away and the rain rots the timber, Angkor Wat will be only a memory."