‘Stealing to Order’ Ravages Cambodia

Buying an ancient Cambodian masterwork can be almost as easy as ordering kitchenware through a mail-order catalog.

With the right connections, you can just go to an antiques dealer in Thailand, select a piece from a book of color photographs of Cambodian sites, and thieves armed with saws and chisels are dispatched to bring it back.

This “stealing to order” is but one way unscrupulous operators prey on Cambodia’s prized art works, including those from the legendary temples of Angkor, experts say.

Crooked officials and soldiers smuggle out art to cash in on the lucrative trade, and poor villagers sell off pieces to help scratch out meager livings.

The pillage is hardly new. Cambodia has been emptied of its cultural treasures since the 14th century, when Thai armies sacked the capital of the great Angkor empire, carting away statues, scholars and sensuous court dancers.

Today, the key culprits are corrupt Cambodian officials and soldiers, Thai antique dealers and rich Western collectors.

Despite this exodus of art, hope has been kindled recently by campaigns of international organizations and Cambodia that have resulted in a trickle of stolen objects making their way home.

Bruno Lefevre, who heads the U.N. Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization mission in Cambodia, said 15 valuable pieces were sent back last year. They included 13 from Thailand, one from France and an exquisite 11th century statue of the Hindu god Brahma that had been in a private British collection.

“Surprisingly, this idea of returning pieces has started to snowball. My intuition says that there will be more this year than last,” Lefevre said.

The first is due soon--a 10th century sandstone head stolen from an Angkor temple. Lefevre said it is coming from New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art, where an observant visitor recognized it as one of 100 vanished Cambodian artworks cataloged by the International Council of Museums.

The booklet, which was distributed to museums, law enforcement agencies and auction houses, is part of a global campaign launched in 1992 by UNESCO to stop the worldwide, billion-dollar-a-year illicit antiques trade.

Of course, not all the works put on the market are “genuine stolen” items. The creation of “instant antiques” is a major industry in Thailand, and many purchasers are fooled. But the destruction of Cambodia’s ancient heritage is real enough, experts lament.

An advertising blitz by the Hungary-based Royal Angkor Foundation points fingers at Thai dealers and pleads for a halt to the thievery. One ad, picturing a graceful but decapitated Angkorian figure, reads: “It survived a thousand monsoons, two invasions and the Khmer Rouge. Then it came under the hammer.”

Heightened awareness of such desecration, pressure from some governments and, in the case of Thailand, a desire for improving relations with its neighbor appear to have borne fruit.

“We are all victims together, Thailand, Cambodia and Laos,” said Michel Tranet, undersecretary of state in Cambodia’s Ministry of Culture. “The ultimate blame must be laid on collectors and museums in the United States, Europe and Japan.”

But he readily admitted that Cambodia must do its part to stem the outflow. Difficulties include rugged, remote border regions where Khmer Rouge guerrillas still operate and the involvement of powerful politicians and the military in art trafficking.

Villagers are often accomplices, ready to hack off a Buddha head for a pittance, Tranet said.

Given this, it is not surprising that antiquities stream out. Experts say most are smuggled west to Thailand, although some cross the eastern border into Vietnam.

At the River City shopping plaza in Thailand’s capital, Bangkok, a number of antique stores openly display statues of mythical creatures, deities and dancers, all purportedly from Cambodia.

Although this angers those out to stop the trade, proving they are stolen is difficult and the ability to take action is limited since Thailand has never signed the 1970 UNESCO convention against international art smuggling.

In Cambodia, Tranet said the deployment of special motorcycle-riding Heritage Police has all but stopped looting at the main Angkor temples, located near the northwestern town of Siem Reap.

But thefts continue at more remote shrines.

Even the Angkor Conservatory--probably the greatest repository of Cambodian art--must be protected by barbed wire and watchtowers.

It has been raided twice in recent years. In a 1993 attack, thieves believed to be soldiers machine-gunned their way into the compound, killed three civilians and made off with 11 valuable pieces.

In his office, Tranet picks up a beautifully preserved water jar dating back more than 700 years. Its spot on the floor is surrounded by the arm of a sandstone statue, a finely wrought torso and dozens of pieces of pottery, some even older than the polychrome jar.

Tranet said he “rescued” these artifacts by buying them from villagers who had dug them up for sale to foreigners.

“Education is the only way we can really stop this pillage,” he said. “We have to teach people the value of these objects. They are the soul and symbols of Cambodia. Without art, our very roots will be torn out.”