Bali needs to protect architectural treasures

Bali needs to protect architectural treasures

By Jean Couteau

DENPASAR (JP): One of the most fascinating aspects of Bali, if
too often ignored by the tourism industry, is the extraordinary
order of its traditional human environment. Not only are rice
fields a wonderful display of a regular human hand in otherwise
tropical surrounds, but the island's architecture seems like a
gift of harmony addressed to the heavenly gods.

If, as the gods do, we look at Bali from high above the ground
-- from an helicopter -- one cannot fail to be impressed by the
regularity of houses, temples and villages. Houses are identical
and strikingly parallel in lay-out; with family temples, kitchens
and rooms occupying the same relative position in the walled
compound. Large temples, likewise, have all the same structure
with all their main shrines occupying the same kaja kangin (east
mountain-ward) corner. Villages all have the same banyan tree in
the vicinity of the similarly located princely mansion. More than
any of the so-called tourism "objects" vaunted by the tourism
industry, it is in this architecture and the way it integrates
with the surrounding nature that is the genuine charm of Bali.

The Balinese base their traditional architecture on the Hindu
theory of balance between Man, God and Nature. Man, seen as
Bhwana Alit (microcosm or Small World), is expected to insert
himself into his natural environment in a way which conforms with
the order of the Bhwana Agung (macrocosm or Larger World).

According to the Asta Kosala Kosali manuscripts, all
architectural structures should thus reproduce the tripartite
order of both the world and the human body. Every building and
compound should have a head, a body and a lower body (genitalia,
bowels and legs), corresponding to the gods, humans and demons.

In traditional village compounds, the family temple is the
head of the building while its body consists of the living
quarters and the kitchen and lavatory are its bowels and
genitalia. Respect for these principles has evolved the magical
harmony of Man and Nature that is at the root of the island's
fame.

But Bali is no longer an agrarian society. Tourism's brings in
twice as much as agriculture and the population is relocating to
the coastal areas and along the main roads, upsetting the old
agrarian patterns. Tourism itself is eating up ever larger chunks
of the island. The consequences can be easily guessed: land is
too scarce to allow for the preservation of the old harmony.

There have been attempts to answer the challenge. The
principle of cosmic harmony between Man, Nature and God has been
made the semi-official ideology of the island -- under the name
of Tri Hita Karana (the three causes of happiness). In regard to
its policy toward tourism development, the regional government
has tried with some success to enforce "design specifications"
reflecting the Balinese concept of architecture. The construction
permits of the hotels in the Nusa Dua Resort have thus all been
delivered under the scrutiny of a "design committee" and on the
condition that they display the tripartite structure. The result
is sometimes surprising. The discotheque in Club Med, an obvious
genitalia component, is located next to the kitchen, the resort's
bowels, and very far indeed from the shrine, its head, which is
located in the purest part of the compound.

Jokes apart, this Balinese concern with harmony has
undoubtedly contributed to the creation of a genuinely modern,
yet "indigenous" type of tourism architecture. Most of the hotels
of Nusa Dua will go down in history as landmarks of post-
traditional architecture.

It would be wrong, though, to think that all is fine in the
island of the gods. Much has been done in regard to the future,
but almost nothing has been done to preserve the architecture of
the past.

New buildings

The Balinese now have money and pull down old buildings to
replace them with new ones whenever they can. This is fast
transforming the human landscape. Instead of the airy traditional
compound with its central yard and open living quarters under
verandahs, more often than not there are now cramped rows of
buildings of an undefinable style. In Denpasar, with the
exception of tourist cottages, their aren't any examples of
Badung style houses with their white-painted brick walls.

Things are no better in Gianyar, where the construction frenzy
is quickly destroying the last original Gianyar-style Balinese
compounds. They are usually replaced by gaudy, over-decorated
modern buildings.

Things are still worse with large structures. When the
Balinese repair temples, gates and village halls, as they are now
doing all over the island, they often pull down invaluable
architectural treasures and replace them with similar concrete
structures. This is the betonisasi. The tripartite structure
might have been kept intact, and thus be in accordance with the
vaunted Tri Hita Karana, but the damage is done.

This is why in beautiful temples like Ulun Siwi in Jimbaran,
Batukaru in Tabanan, to quote only those which come to mind --
Balinese style concrete wantilan (open halls) stand in front of
otherwise beautiful shrines or buildings. They are waiting for
nothing less than the collapse of an architectural history, in
the midst of total indifference.

Many Balinese may disagree with this characterization. When
they pull down a shrine, don't they insist that it be rebuilt in
the Gianyar style? The hitch is that this new, highly
standardized style is the product of bureaucratic soul-searching
and lacks the natural beauty of the original. New buildings may
be constructed in this new style, but shouldn't the old ones be
preserved in their original state with their original materials?

Is it to late to save Balinese traditional architecture?

Perhaps. Here is an island with thousands of architectural
monuments, large and small, famous and forgotten, which anywhere
else in the world would be duly registered, protected and
restored as part of the national heritage. But this heritage is
only protected by the law of numbers in Bali. Soon it will be too
late.

The main obstacles to the conservation of the architectural
heritage are cultural. Not only does the Tri Hita Karana
"ideology" ignore conservation, but it tend to sooth the mind's
of the Balinese. Being repeatedly told, mantra-like, that their
culture is based on the principle of harmony, many Balinese
refuse to even consider that this harmony is threatened. Very few
are really aware of the need to preserve their architectural
heritage. Accustomed to seeing themselves through the eyes of
others -- the tourists -- they often insist on the conservation
of dance, which is going to change anyway, but pay little
attention to architecture, which normally has a much longer life-
span. Isn't it significant that Bali has a yearly Art Festival,
while next to nothing is done for its monuments?

Other obstacles to architectural conservation are social.
Houses are privately owned, and temples are owned and ruled
collectively by congregations whose members like the cheap
Gianyar style because it is official. Furthermore, they feel they
own their temples and that no one should interfere. Imposing on
these groups a conservation policy is risky business and requires
time. When, for example, the Indonesian government and UNESCO
tried two years ago to convert the "Mother Temple" of Besakih
into a "cultural park", most Balinese protested as they saw it as
a threat to their religious liberties. A good intention was
misunderstood, perhaps for lack of information.

Whatever the obstacles, there must be ways to protect Bali's
architectural treasures. The higher authorities of the island are
well aware of the problems mentioned above, but lack funds. So
isn't it time to set up a Heritage Foundation to work between the
people and the government? Such a foundation already exists in
Bandung so why not in Bali? This would help guarantee the future
of tourism.