The Medium Is the Message
Coming soon….
“If you read the same text from a book edition or from a palm leaf manuscript or a mulberry paper manuscript, it makes a difference because of the special aura of these manuscripts.” This reflection by Professor Volker Grabowsky, Chair of Thai Studies at the University of Hamburg, offers a glimpse into the fascinating topic of the variety of Buddhist manuscript forms found in Thai and Lao cultures. Along with his collaborator, Dr. Silpsupa Jaengsawang, a postdoctoral researcher at the same university, they discuss the cultural and spiritual feel and importance of the different types of handwritten texts, as well as their own scholarly and emotional relationship to them.
At the outset, they clarify an important distinction between studying literature and studying manuscripts. Dr. Jaengsawang explains that while manuscript and literature study both require attention to content, the former equally concerns a text’s material, format, and production method, which she describes as “the interaction between the text and the object.” For her, manuscript culture is a material practice—what is written, how it is written, and on what it is written, all conveying information about the socio-cultural, economic and spiritual context of that particular manuscript.
Grabowsky follows that explanation by describing how manuscripts are not just containers of text but are imbued with ritual value and social significance, especially in Theravāda Buddhist cultures. For example, palm leaf manuscripts are typically just used for the most sacred texts and have a particular “aura” in Buddhist contexts. In many temples, monks hold these manuscripts during sermons—not necessarily to read from them directly but to symbolize the transmission of the Buddha’s teachings. The manuscript, in this setting, is both a tool and a sacred object. Grabowsky also notes that donors are essential to manuscript production: they provide materials, commission scribes, and are often acknowledged in a colophon (a statement at the end of a manuscript giving information about its authorship and printing). Sponsoring a manuscript is believed to bring spiritual merit because the teachings of the Buddha are thought to be impermanent and thus in need of preservation.
Another topic explored in the conversation is the relationship between the oral and manuscript traditions. In many Theravāda communities, memorization remains vital. Monks often deliver sermons from memory, and as noted above, just holding a manuscript as a symbol rather than reading from it. However, written texts are essential for ensuring long-term transmission, especially in cases where oral traditions might fade. Jaengsawang adds that ritualized sermons—such as the Mahachat, a 13-chapter, performative retelling of the Vessantara Jataka (stories of the Buddha’s past life as Prince Vessantara)—are so well known that many monks can recite it from memory, yet communities still attend annual recitations because of the great merit believed to come from listening.
Manuscripts span a wide range of content besides religion: local histories, medical formulas, financial records, and even political commentary. Grabowsky recalls finding manuscripts in southwestern Yunnan produced after the Cultural Revolution, some of which contain critiques of Chinese cultural policies. In these contexts, manuscripts are not just religious artifacts but expressions of ethnic identity and cultural memory. This dual role—both cultural and political—is central to their contemporary relevance.
The speakers also emphasize the importance of para-textual elements like colophons and marginal notes. These features often provide the only biographical information about the scribe, donor, or purpose of the manuscript. Jaengsawang considers colophons invaluable for tracing the historical and social details of the work. In some cases, even subtle details like the shape of the paper or the style of handwriting can offer clues about the scribe’s education or regional background.
Manuscript preservation is always a major concern. Besides the deleterious effect of a tropical climate, natural disasters such as floods and earthquakes pose ongoing threats to fragile manuscripts. Grabowsky recounts a recent visit to a Lao monastery where the entire manuscript collection had been destroyed by flooding the previous year. Another concern regarding manuscripts are access barriers in traditional Southeast Asian Buddhist cultures, where gendered space and ritual purity norms often restrict female scholars from engaging directly with manuscript collections stored in monasteries. Jaengsawang shares that “because the manuscripts are considered rare objects or precious objects, they are always kept at a monk's abode… I am female, so if I want to get access to the manuscript, I need a local male person to let me in.”
Another barrier to access is often the script itself. The “Tham Script,” used for many religious manuscripts, is no longer widely taught or understood. Jaengsawang recalls her own challenges transitioning from reading printed textbooks to handwritten manuscripts. She describes a moment of realization—”a ping pong in my brain”—when her teacher reminded her that printed letters are not the same as handwritten ones. The act of deciphering a scribe’s handwriting, she adds, brings a sense of intimacy and connection to the person who produced the manuscript—a sentiment echoed by Grabowsky.
Given these challenges, both scholars highlight modern efforts to preserve and digitize manuscripts. The Digital Library of Endangered Manuscripts in Southeast Asia, with centers both in Hamburg and Jakarta, plays a pivotal role in preserving these cultural treasures. But they stress that physical and material preservation alone are not enough—use and engagement are essential. Grabowsky quotes the former director of the National Library of Laos as saying, “Keeping manuscripts without using them is tantamount of destroying them.” Therefore, his team works not only to digitize manuscripts, but to train local monks and laypeople to read the traditional scripts.
Both scholars share personal anecdotes that reinforce the emotional dimension of their work. Grabowsky recalls an interaction he had in the late 1990s with the son of a Lao scholar, who had recently passed. He learned that the father’s entire, extensive, manuscript collection had been burned along with his body, as the family believed the texts might serve him in the afterlife. While appreciating the personal and cultural nature of the decision, he couldn’t help but feel professionally rueful. For Jaengsawang, the most memorable experience came during a month-long field study in northern Thailand. Granted special access to a monastery’s manuscript library, she was later chastised by a local woman who said, “I am now 70 years old… but I have never had such the privilege to hold a key like you!” Both of these recollections crystallize the tension between scholarly research and local custodianship—highlighting that manuscripts are not just historical documents but living heritage, tightly bound to local identity and pride.
The speakers then turn their attention to the materials and tools used in traditional manuscript production, primarily done on either palm leaves or mulberry paper. Palm leaves were traditionally inscribed with a stylus, then blackened with soot to make the letters visible, while mulberry paper allows for more elaborate illustrations and ink-based writing. From the mid-20th century, typewriters were even adapted to type on palm leaves—a remarkable intersection of old media and new technology. Grabowsky and Jaengsawang are currently collaborating with natural scientists to document the full production process, from harvesting palm leaves to final inscription.
The interplay of modern and ancient technologies continues today. Grabowsky notes that some monks, even when printing with modern scripts, still prefer the traditional “Pothi” format, in which a stack of palm leaves are connected by woven thread through one or more holes poked in the leaves. This choice preserves the visual and symbolic continuity of the religious manuscript tradition, even if the underlying script or medium has changed. In other regions, like the Tai minority areas of southwestern China, manuscript copying continues as a means of cultural preservation in the face of state-sponsored modernization.
The varied forms that these modern practices take challenges the linear concept of media evolution: from oral to written, from written to printed, and from printed to digital. Instead, as Grabowsky emphasizes, these forms “coexist and interact with each other.” Oral traditions shape written texts; digital tools preserve palm leaf manuscripts; and printed books adopt formats that harken back to ancient traditions. What emerges is a complex ecology of media, shaped by memory, merit, ritual, and innovation.
Jaengsawang adds a final perspective on the tactile dimension of writing. For her, the act of handwriting activates a different kind of memory and emotional connection than typing. Moreover, she notes that in Buddhist tradition, merit accrues not just from the content of the manuscript but also from the labor invested in creating it. Handwriting demands time and devotion, reinforcing the manuscript’s spiritual significance.
The conversation ends on a reflective note, as both scholars contemplate the future of manuscripts amid political and cultural change. Jaengsawang gives the example of how Thai-language, block-printed manuscripts began to replace handwritten Lao manuscripts in the Luang Prabang province of north central Laos after Communist rule prompted many monks to study in Thailand. These shifts reveal how even sacred texts are caught up in political histories and national identities.
“We don’t have just a sequence of technologies, but in fact, we have the coexistence of all kinds of these media, from oral tradition to modern digital technologies and interacting with each other,” Grabowsky concludes. It is in this layered, interactive landscape—where monks hold typed manuscripts that mimic palm leaves, and researchers navigate gender norms and spiritual codes to unlock ancient texts—that manuscript cultures continue to thrive, adapt, and speak across generations.