Latest / The Khmer Empire: The Lost Civilization Behind Angkor Wat — Fexingo History / The Bayon's Stone Faces: Jayavarman VII's Enigmatic Smile
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- Lucas: Luna, we've talked a lot about Jayavarman VII — the roads, the hospitals, the temples he built. But there's one monument that still puzzles archaeologists and visitors alike: the Bayon. You know, the temple in the center of Angkor Thom with all those stone faces. Luna: Oh, the ones with the serene smiles? I've seen pictures — they're hauntingly beautiful. Lucas: Exactly. Over two hundred of them, carved on towers, each face about four meters high. And they all share that same enigmatic expression — half-smiling, eyes closed, as if they know something we don't. Luna: So who are they supposed to be? Some say it's the king himself. Lucas: That's the debate. The standard theory is that they represent Avalokiteshvara, the bodhisattva of compassion in Mahayana Buddhism. Jayavarman VII was a devout Mahayana Buddhist, and he identified himself with this bodhisattva — the one who looks down upon the world with compassion. But some scholars argue the faces might also be a portrait of the king as a living bodhisattva, merging his royal identity with the divine. Luna: So it's both a religious and a political statement? Lucas: Absolutely. Think about the context. After the Cham invasion of 1177 sacked Angkor, Jayavarman VII came to power and drove them out. He then embarked on an unprecedented building campaign, not just to restore the capital, but to remake it as a cosmic city. Angkor Thom — 'Great City' — was his new capital, and at its center he built the Bayon as his state temple. Unlike earlier Hindu kings who built their temples on pyramid-like mountains to symbolize Mount Meru, Jayavarman built his temple low and surrounded by faces, as if the king-god was watching over the city from all directions. Luna: That must have been an incredible sight for someone approaching the city. Lucas: It still is. But there's another layer: the Bayon wasn't built all at once. Archaeologists have found that the temple went through several construction phases. Originally, it might have been a single-tower shrine, and then the faces were added later, expanding outward. Some think the design changed because Jayavarman VII wanted to emphasize his role as a 'devaraja' — a god-king — but in a Buddhist context. The faces, looking in all four cardinal directions, suggest a king who is all-seeing and all-compassionate. Luna: That reminds me of something you mentioned in an earlier episode about the devaraja cult shifting from Hindu to Buddhist. Lucas: Exactly. And it's not just the faces. The Bayon is covered in bas-reliefs that depict everyday life in 12th-century Angkor — markets, battles, festivals, even a cockfight. It's like a historical document carved in stone. While the faces represent the cosmic realm, the reliefs ground the temple in the real world. Jayavarman VII wanted his temple to be both a celestial palace and a record of his kingdom. Luna: And this is where the donation comes in — if you've been enjoying these deep dives, consider supporting the show. We keep it ad-free thanks to listeners who buy us a coffee at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Every bit helps, and it keeps us digging into these stories. Lucas: Exactly. And speaking of digging — one of the most intriguing mysteries of the Bayon is why the faces were altered over time. In later centuries, when Theravada Buddhism became dominant, many of the faces were modified or covered. Some were even recarved into Buddha images. So the temple we see today is a palimpsest, layers of religious change. Luna: So the smiles we see — are they original, or were they changed? Lucas: That's the million-dollar question. Most of the faces we see now are from the Mahayana period, but some show signs of later reworking. For example, the central tower's faces are more weathered and might be earlier. The ones on the outer galleries are better preserved and more uniform. It's a puzzle that keeps archaeologists busy. Luna: And what about the name 'Bayon'? Is that Khmer? Lucas: Actually, it's from the French, derived from the Khmer word 'Prasat Bayon', which might mean 'temple of the ancestors' or something similar. But the original name was probably 'Jayasri' or something related to Jayavarman. We don't have a definitive ancient name. Luna: So the faces are anonymous, in a way. Lucas: In a way, yes. But they're also intensely personal. Each face is slightly different — the curve of the lips, the tilt of the head. Some have a more masculine jaw, others softer features. It's as if the sculptors were given leeway to express the bodhisattva's compassion in different forms. And there's a theory that the faces might represent not just Avalokiteshvara but also the king's family — his mother, his wife Indradevi, who was a scholar and teacher. Inscriptions mention that Jayavarman VII dedicated temples to his parents and his wife, so the faces could be a composite of the royal family as bodhisattvas. Luna: That would make it a kind of ancestral pantheon. Lucas: Exactly. And it ties into the Mahayana idea that everyone has the potential for Buddhahood. By carving these faces, the king was showing that the path to enlightenment was open to all, and that he and his family were already on that path. Luna: I've also heard that the number of faces is significant. Lucas: It is. There are 54 towers, each with four faces, making 216 faces — a number that might correspond to the 108 or 216 beads in a Buddhist mala, or to the number of days in the half-year. It's all about cosmic cycles and the all-seeing nature of the bodhisattva. Luna: So when you stand at the center of the Bayon, you're surrounded by hundreds of eyes looking at you from every angle. Lucas: Exactly. It's meant to be overwhelming, to remind you that you are always in the presence of the divine — and the king. And that's the genius of Jayavarman VII: he blended religion, politics, and art into a single, breathtaking monument. Luna: It makes me wonder what happened to the temple after Jayavarman's death. Lucas: Good question. After Jayavarman VII died, the Hindu revival under Jayavarman VIII led to the destruction of many Buddhist images. The Bayon was neglected, and later, when the capital moved to Phnom Penh, it was swallowed by the jungle. It wasn't until the 20th century that French archaeologists began restoring it. And even today, parts of the temple are still unstable because the sandstone blocks have shifted over the centuries. Luna: So the smiles we see are a modern reconstruction in a way. Lucas: To some extent. But the faces we see are mostly original, just cleaned and stabilized. The anastylosis — that's the careful reassembly of fallen stones — has preserved the original layout. So when you visit the Bayon, you're seeing pretty much what a 13th-century pilgrim would have seen, minus the gold leaf and paint. Luna: Was it ever painted? Lucas: Yes, traces of red paint have been found on some of the faces. The temple would have been brightly colored, probably with gold leaf on the central tower. Imagine the faces glowing in the sunlight — it would have been even more awe-inspiring. Luna: I'd love to see that. But for now, the stone smiles are mysterious enough. Lucas: They are. And that's what makes the Bayon so captivating. You can stand there and feel like those faces are watching you, judging you, or maybe just welcoming you. It's a profound experience. Luna: Next time we're in the area, we should do a whole episode on the bas-reliefs — they sound just as rich. Lucas: Absolutely. There's a whole world of detail in those carvings, from everyday life to epic battles. But for now, I think we've given the Bayon's faces their due. Luna: Thanks, Lucas. That was a fascinating look at one of Angkor's most iconic wonders. Lucas: My pleasure. Until next time, keep exploring.