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August 18, 2011
Happy Indian Independence Day!
Anyone who lives their research will tell you that it is very hard to make time to write a blog about it, to synthesize the experience into that which can be recounted in a manageable amount of words, in an acceptable, shareable form, and this entry especially, is a humble but inadequate endeavour to record my attempt to understand Bhutan's Gross National Happiness and what I have come to call "Exporting Eudaimonia". Enmeshed in this will be a narrative of my journey a it unfolds in breathtaking Druk Yul, the Land of the Thunder Dragon.
I landed into Paro International Airport on the 7th of August, 2011 and even that does not seem an adeuqate starting point so I do hope the reader forgives my patchwork narrative.
This is an excerpt from something I wrote on BlackBerry Memopad on my way to Bhutan.
'I was struck that every time I asked my friends in Bhutan what I should take them from India or the UK, their answer was a firm, "Absolutely nothing." The Bhutanese psyche seems such that diefies homo economicus and our material-guzzling, rabid consumerism. They appear to have the key to contentment, they simply do not desire much. I, on the other hand, travelled executive class laden with 30 kilograms of luggage, working out to a dramatic kilogram of material comforts a day, far more than I oculd use or require. Prior to this were my mother's phone calls to Benji, asking whether there were shampoos, conditioners, groceries and other small comforts, to which she too got the characteristic reply, "Don't worry, we have absolutely everything", this coming from someone from a place for which my Bhutanese boarding school mates described as having its shopping done at regular intervals in Bangkok as though Thailand was some downtown Marks and Spencer's! Everything took on a happier hue from the moment the strain associated with packing and travelling heavy was over.'
On Air India, Beleaguered but Beautiful Indian National Carrier
India has always enjoyed a special relationship with Bhutan. The Indian Army protects the State of Bhutan as interdependence is a big part of its Gross National Happiness-influenced Foreign Policy. On the flight I was priveleged to have met a colleague of my mother's called Nima Thapa who had been to Bhutan. Although declining a video recorded interview, Ms. Thapa confirmed that Bhutan was indeed a happy country with a lot of happiness to share in order to enrich the human experience. I was told a great many interesting things about her adventures in Bhutan as she spent a couple of months hiking around the countryside. Fishing is sustainably done, as is hunting, only during a few weeks of the year as Bhutan reveres nature and harmoniuos living in an age where we have all but forgotten in hubris our niche as a species within nature, though sometimes we live damagingly and self-sabotagingly, as though the cultural environment is separate from it. Nima told me of how her group was repremanded for camping on Royal Private Property and how their guide nearly lost his permit, suggesting everything and everyone has its order and place in Bhutan.
At the Indhira Airport in Delhi
After bidding my Air India Family adieu, I switched over to the terminal to catch my Druk Air Flight to Paro. I was stopped at the entrance by airport security along with an American Airlines pilot in uniform as the guards insisted it was not good enough to have an e-ticket number. However, being a girl and more importantly being extremely polite goes a long way in India. While the pilot had to have his agent frantically rush off to print his ticket, I managed to pursuade the guard to escort me to the Druk Air check-in point so that they could do the needful, which he did, insisting that it was a generational lapse and not his fault, which I agreed it was.
I met our family friend Dasho Peljor J Dorji, or Benji as we like to call him, and was immediately relieved that I was in safe hands with someone I have come to respect immensely not only because of his unassuming simplicity, but because he is indeed one of Bhutan's most formative architects as far as the environment, justice system and openness to the world goes, and God knows how much else because he does not talk about himself too much. We were upgraded to the First Class, an honour conferred due to no personal merit, but due to my association with him.
At the airport we met with the famous mountaineer who first scaled Mount Everist with Edmund Hillary Tenzing Norgay's son, his wife and his three young children, who were moving to Bhutan from Delhi so that their children could know their roots, an interesting fact considering his father was born in Kharta Valley in Tibet in 1914 before the unlawful Chinese Occupation of the country. This, and the many linguistic and cultural overlaps suggested that the Norgays were indeed going home as Tibet would have been very similar to Bhutan, had it not been occupied and systematically divested of its rich culture and pristine environment through rapid industrialization and the centrally coordinated Han influx. In many ways, having fought for Tibetan Independence, this was to be an extremely personal trip, one that tried to take with it a sense of this rare commonality shared between the two countries, but that which one was forcefully dissociated from, given the reports of cultural genocide in Tibet. I silently wished the Norgay children a rich and intimate orientation with a culture that many died to protect and conserve just accross the border.
Benji introduced me to Dr. Gepke Hingst, Bhutan's country representative from the United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF). We exchanged cards and promised to be in touch. Meeting the lovely lady reminded me that mine was indeed to be a rather privileged trip and that I would indeed be studying Gross National Happiness and Bhutan from a priveleged lens and that I should reflexively account for that in my research so as to mitigate for positional bias. Dr. Hingst herself seems passionate about Gross National Happiness, as I saw for myself when she attended the demanding three day conference on Happiness and Economic Development co-chaired by His Excellency the Prime Minister Lyonchen Jigme Thinley.
Descent into the Himalayas
Into the very lines on Gaiah's palm
Where we trace our desirous destinies
All marching in rank and file
Each of us elevated nobodies
Walking carbon shadows
Illuminated to bias at best
By dancing beams through foliage
Textures of Green
Beyond our mean appraisal
We are the lie that crawl
While an infant God sucks at her bossom
The landing into Bhutan's Paro International Airport touched a nerve deep within me. Having travelled widely ever since I was six months old, I believed that I was well exposed, especially to nature, since I went to boarding school in the Palni Hills. I was struck by the beauty of the mountains and how in comparison our plane seemed to melt into obscurity in a land where men and monuments seem devoid of hubris and do not assume a stature unbefitting of them. Here, the cultural environment truly is part of the natural.
Everyone turns photographer in Druk Yul.
We are not truly acquainted with nature before we visit Bhutan.
Bhutan is a land that reveres its visionaries, the Kings of the 1907-elected Wangchuck Dynasty, who embody Plato's Philosopher Kings, having devolved power from an absolute monarchy and even unpopularly led the drive to democracy, despite their subjects' wishes. Every Druk Air plane arrives and departs under the watchful eyes of the five Dragon Kings or Druk Gyalpos, whose likenesses are superimposed on a billboard. They grace the wall above the duty free, overlooking immigrations, where friendly officers guard the kingdom's exclusive borders.
The Drive to Thimphu
Benji's son Tashi Namgyal picked us up from the airport. He is a 24 year old student of International Business in Bangkok who wants pursue photography after he graduates. Immediately, I was struck by his gentle, obedient manner with his Appa, characteristic of all the Bhutanese youth I have been fortunate to have known. Family values are of utmost importance in Bhutan and in many ways this cements social cohesion.
I found myself grinning like a fool during the entire journey, stopping to take pictures of old, majestic ruins that turned out to be traditional farms, streams snaking through ravines and suddenly, Bhutan seemed the richest country in the world and I wanted more than anything to be able to partake more permanently of the wholesome human experience that cities held no trace of with their manicured lawns and token trees. Suddenly, it wasn't a paradox that Bhutan, although so sparingly linked up with the world economy, had such a high standard of living.
On the way Benji regaled us with a rare string of stories about his role in shaping the country's macropolitical system.
He told me that his servants
Worked for honour and not wage
This feudal lord possessed of all:
Noblesse oblige and a noble calling
And that with the King he had been in disfavour
A year for convicting His in law
Benji displayed all the traits of a virtuous citizen and Rousseau's ideal legislator, upright and uncompromising, even to his short term disadvantage in a highly heirarchical setting.
I asked Benji about the refugees of Nepalese Bhutanese origin because I was asked to take part in Warwick's Writing Wrongs project. It was through his eyes that I saw a very different story to that propagated by the Western Media. Armed with ascertainable facts he told me of the naturalization of all nepalese immigrants, the illegal ethnic-exclusive settlements obtained through corrupt means and the colonially incited ambitions to take over Bhutan as the Raj attempted to divide and conquer which intigated their voluntary exile until such time they could take overm, despite the King's pleas. He spoke of the UN's illegal institution of a refugee camp on Bhutan's borders which was unprecedented as it did not come about through a resolution and the negligent allowance of influx from Nepal, the criteria being, anyone who claimed to be a refugee, whether or not they were from Bhutan, was admitted and could claim redressal. Benji told us a story of speaking with an old alleged refugee woman who was on her way to asylum overseas, who who asked him where he was from and could not recognize where his Gho was from, despite it being the national dress of Bhutan, worn compulsarly to work and for official purposes!
Tashi Namgyal, or Freddy as he is more commonly known, was kind enough to take me to an afterparty with his friends at Blue Haven. I was pleasantly surprised at how social and welcoming everyone was and how willing they were to partake of planning their country's future. People are comparatively less politically apathetic in Bhutan. It was a humbling experience to learn of the different, important roles that they played in Education, the Ministry of Economic Affairs, the Media and Social Services. They were unassuming but extremely erudite. It was heartening to see how very vibrant civil society was and its implications in making for a healthy, young democracy.
From Sonam Tshering Dorji, who works in the Ministry of Economic Affairs, I learned that all policies must be vetted in the light of Gross National Happiness and given a minimum scores based on various considerations, below which a policy may not be passed.
A girl working in Education remarked that young people sometimes tired of Gross National Happiness as it was too explicitly enforced, whereas it should be less overbearing and more implicit.
Everyone in Bhutan is an Artist.
There is something about Bhutan and its rich, mythopoeic culture and evirons that nurtures and refines people's artistic sensibilitis. I was fortunate to have spent the better part of my first night looking at Freddy's photography, and through it I spied an intimate, philosophical relationship with a culture from which happiness could be had. He showed me beautiful pictures of old people with faces with as much charater as the hills, robust, earthy and content, pictures of young monks, breathtaking landscapes, chortens (stupas) and even a picture of prayer sheets that were memorized and handed down through the generations. His vision was poetic, only a few words highlighted in a sea of memory, as though the entire practice of repitition and recitation was to instill few, profound lessons to live by.