Just about everything in Bhutan still bears the imprint of past centuries, the times of splendid spiritual isolation, subsistent economic self-reliance and secluded political autarchy. Yet, unlike in the past, the Bhutanese horizons today end no more at the crest of the next mountain ridge. After all the centuries, Bhutan is finally out in the open, exposed, and the floodgates are cracking. The gush of ego is imminent. Can it be tamed or diverted? If so, then on whose terms?

For the moment, both luck and wisdom appear to be on the side of the Bhutanese state. The country has been spared the usual Third World condition of past colonial exploitation and subsequent social decomposition. The winds of change blew elsewhere. Because Bhutan does not command the best Himalayan passes, it was saved from having to play the role of pawn in the great games of the 19th and 20th centuries. Squeezed between two Asian behemoths, Bhutan mastered realpolitik in the most recent period to create and preserve its statehood.

The country climbed unto the bandwagon of internationalisation relatively late, and even then, timidly and judiciously. The result was remarkable: by virtue of "being different", Bhutan attracted a disproportionate share of international developmental assistance. Being different: with its dzongs and lamas, Bhutan is mystical; with its mountains and subsistence villages, it is picturesque; with its King and Dashos, it is reliable and quite predictable. Besides, with its resource utilisation, Bhutan is prudent. And so, apart from an occasional, zealous champion of human rights who arrives in Thimphu, Bhutan is successful in casting a spell over its flock of willing (and rather deep-pocketed) expatriate abettors.

But the spell will not hold forever. The plethora of questions Bhutan faces today is amazing. The country seems to be replicating the model of material and economic development followed by Western societies. However, while Western societies, themselves endogenously driven by their Christian-based materialism, needed two industrial centuries to arrive at their present state of material wealth, Buddhist Bhutan gambles with an exogenous and intrinsically alien economic path. It attempts to traverse the whole distance within two generations, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the inherent starting conditions are startlingly different from the West. Buddhism has so far adequately supported the egalitarian subsistence farming and pastoralism of the high Himalayan regions. Can it do the same with the competition- and information-based industrial market economy?

Vulnerable Buddhism

With its precept of "fill the earth and subdue it", Christianity developed an economic philosophy supporting individual ownership of the means of production, and surplus production. The highly resilient system of capitalist market economy evolved as the base of Western (Christian) civilisation and its individual-oriented values. Meanwhile, non-subduing Buddhism, with its tenet of noble material sufficiency, hardly ever felt a need to develop an economic theory on its own—beyond the economic axiom of egalitarian subsistence. In the world increasingly dominated by Western/Christian individualist consumerism, Buddhism stands vulnerable against the assertive, psychological challenge of material wealth beyond basic needs. So far, Buddhism in Bhutan or elsewhere has not been able to develop an effective response to this challenge.

History teaches us that, when economic practice and religion (embodied in its institutions) clash, economics may be expected to prevail. When this happens, folklore and superstition (besides the clerical institutions) tend to remain for some time as resilient leftovers of a religious system. The current state of Buddhism in Thailand is fairly representative of this trend. While Bhutanese Buddhism may not yet be in imminent danger, it certainly does not seem to be reading the signs of time. For, many indisputably erosive developments are irrevocably underway.

Both the traditional pattern of life and Bhutan’s religious backbone are coming under pressure as the country treads the economic path of the Occident. It seems clear that Bhutanese Buddhism will receive its share of struggle in due course, and there are several pointers that it may be caught by surprise.

The Western model of capitalist-growth and consumption-oriented development has not been without its glitches. Capitalism is intrinsically and dialectically frictional. It produces winners and losers. The technological advances and productivity explosion, resulting from the progressive division of labour, led to stratification and social fault lines quite unknown in subsistence societies. Yet, over time, Western societies developed institutions for the relatively successful management of these fault lines and frictions.

With Bhutan following the Western model over the last decades, the same ethnic, religious, class, and even aristocratic and plutocratic fault lines, are emerging. But the society’s institutional base to repair them is insufficient. Even though it is still deeply defined according to Buddhist values, Bhutan’s society is not immune from the tantalising accoutrements of Western advancement. Indeed, any existing immunity can easily (and subconsciously) be traded for a Toyota Hilux, the popular ‘off road vehicle’ of Bhutan. An aspiring middle class, demanding civil society, democratic institutions, and affluence, all of the Western kind, will slowly assert their own values and redesign Bhutan's social face.

To counter the rush to Westernisa-tion, Bhutan proffers the concept of Gross National Happiness, GNH. Is GNH something to reckon with? Yes and no. While Bhutan is chased, like all of us, along the common path of economic and ideological globalisation (and is actually doing quite well in meeting the challenge), GNH is a wonderfully fresh, yet familiar, paradigm, one which pro-actively deflects attention from the sinking paradigms of the past. Unfortunately, apart from proclaiming the GNH concept, Bhutan has done too little to fill it with flesh and bones. Its core remains elusive, as elusive as happiness itself. The paucity of real debate on a concept which is being raised to the level of a national doctrine, is surprising.

The GNH doctrine attempts to pursue its goal of human well-being though four policy platforms: economic development, environmental preservation, cultural promotion and good governance. These are all regular ingredients of developmental postmodernism. Moreover, these are predominantly secular platforms, which is again surprising for a country claiming such a spiritual pedigree. While its present level of elaboration may serve the purpose for the moment, the maturing of the GNH concept will have to engage theologians and economists, academia and research, scholars and students—if it is not to remain an exotic topic for academic tractate and ceremonial toasts at Thimphu’s exclusive parties. Even the best idea cannot live without its appropriate institutions.

Bhutan is a state. Is it also a nation? Can one even use the concept ‘Buddhist Bhutan’ which one has so injudiciously used thus far in this article? The fact is, presently a quarter to a third of Bhutan’s inhabitants relish Shiva and Vishnu more than Buddha. And they, as often perceived by their Buddha-worshipping brethren, seem to stand in the way of not only Bhutan as a nation-state, but of many other developments. The fate of around 100,000 refugee camp dwellers in eastern Nepal consumes nearly all the attention reserved for the Bhutanese ethnic debate. Yet, the plight of those who stayed back is not less debatable.

The civilisational differences between Bhutan’s northern Tibeto-Burmese and southern mostly Indo-Aryan population are indeed substantial. And whatever the Bhutanese state may do, and shall do, the ethnic mistrust appears here to stay. We may hope, and believe, that it will never explode to the tragic dimensions of the Serb-Kosovar Balkanic mode, the Hutu-Tutsi Rwandan type, or the Muslim-Christian Ambon kind. However, the way in which the Bhutanese state handles the issue now will set the switch for the society's future course. Unfortunately, the key to the future has not yet been found.

At the risk of sounding provocative, the issue of the refugee camps in Nepal does not hold the powder to tear Bhutan apart. The generosity of the international community’s spirit towards Bhutan and the remarkable skills and stamina of its polity shall eventually solve this particular problem, and the solution will not be too far removed from the current Bhutanese terms. The real danger for Bhutanese society, thus, lies in the volatile question of inter-ethnic relationship within the country and the issue of long-term ethnic coexistence absent the calamities of exodus.

The rules of the ethnic game, of course, continue to be set by the Buddhist majority. Representing this majority, the state moves between the somewhat crude attempts at ethnic assimilation and the more subtle discrimination evident in the access to public amenities and opportunities. There will be few Bhutanese holding Nepali names who will not be able to tell a story or two. To repeat just one: the existence of thousands of people who would, by average criteria of Western citizenship laws, i.e. by virtue of one Bhutanese parent or their own long residence, easily qualify for Bhutanese nationality. However, the state prefers to keep them indefinitely ‘in-between’. Exact figures are not available, but some estimates say that perhaps up to 30 percent of the Nepali-origin population in Bhutan is thus kept in suspense, with "special resident permits" substituting for their de facto statelessness.

The policy of resettlement of landless families from the mountainous north to the southern areas, for decades dominated by Nepali settlers, is well calculated—a real-politik-inspired policy if there was one. The state is indeed well advised to prepare for the potential return of selected camp dwellers from eastern Nepal, and assuredly some of them will have to be eventually accepted back. Diluting the Nepali ethnic concentration in their traditional southern strongholds would therefore be logical state policy. Judging by the representation in the Tshongdu (National Assembly), the plan is working well: even some of the members representing southern traditionally Nepali-dominated constituencies are now northern settlers. Moreover, there is always the chance that many refugees may voluntarily renounce the opportunity to return because of the complications of restoration deriving from the distribution of land to the northerners.

Meanwhile, the endeavour is on to create a unified nation-state, by fostering and imposing the paraphernalia of a single nationality upon its disparate subjects. But the fact is that a nation-state is not built on cloth, as the imposition of the national (northern) dress code would suggest. It is built on feelings, based on interrelationships between the state and its subjects, based on the merit of balanced distribution of opportunities among the people. The minds of most Bhutanese Nepali dwellers appear to be a priori with the Bhutanese state—since, rationally, the state can provide them with opportunities unparalleled in the South Asian context. Nevertheless, their feelings are on hold, with the push for an ethnically uniform nation-state requiring the renouncement of their ‘Nepali’ cultural identity. This push by the Bhutanese state is too crude to be efficient.

What is striking is that both the state’s discrimination against, and its attempts at assimilating the Nepali-speakers appear as if they are being carried out in good faith. The rather unsophisticated attempts at assimilation, based on black-white, good-bad paradigm of racial difference, could stem from the superiority complex developed by a population which mastered its destiny in splendid ethnocentric isolation. Indeed, it would be simplistic to blame the northern elite, or Ngalong, for implementing an policy of ethnic supremacy.

To look at history, there are few patterns of peaceful ethnic coexistence from which the northern Bhutanese could learn. From their point of view, with the Sikkim example ever-present, the policy of making generous investments in the southern areas has backfired. The fact that this whole corner of South Asia has seen strong migratory currents of Nepalis and other communities does not make the Bhutanese authorities breathe any easier. Nevertheless, when all is said and done, the Bhutanese state has failed to reach out to the hearts and minds of its Brahma-created subjects. Whether the Bhutanese state proves attractive and impartial enough for the Nepali-speakers remaining within the country to whole-heartedly become Bhutanese is something to be seen in the decade ahead. If this fails to happen, the very existence of Bhutan as a state might yet be gambled away.

Besides, even if the state has won the numbers game for the moment, it may not be able to do so forever. This is because the southern, mostly Hindu, population has a higher birth rate than the northern Buddhists. The time will come when the demographic balance will once again dip in favour of the southerners. If the resentments still persist, it is at that point that the powder will be potent enough to tear Bhutan apart. The model for ethnic coexistence will have to be developed long before that.

The winds of change also blow over the system of governance in Bhutan. With the inevitable process of political differentiation underway, the system does evolve. Indeed, the political reforms of recent years have been sweeping, and not only by contemplative Bhutanese standards. The general feeling among the small tribe of Bhutan-watchers is that the devolution of power from the absolute monarchy to the collective leadership based on indirect democracy, is genuine. Interestingly, voices asking for more cannot be overheard.

Indirect democracy as a means of choosing representatives to the National Assembly may well be reproachable by Western standards, and the Assembly sessions do appear every so often to be carefully crafted. But the indiscriminate imposition of the modern Western human rights concept and its instruments—such as pluralistic, direct parliamentary democracy—would lead to a socio-political polarisation endangering the very survival of the Bhutanese ‘non-nation’ state.

An Eastern society, exposed to an alien system of governance built upon legacies of Richelieu and
Bismarck, Rousseau, Adam Smith and Jefferson, would fault along different lines than societies of the West. Social polari-sation in the West develops between classes because of the capitalist, predominantly nation-state society. The pattern of polarisation in the developing world follows other fault lines such as ethnicity, colour, creed, clan or caste—for which successful institutional setups have yet to be developed. Bhutan is far from being a capitalist nation-state, and it will take some time. And if a benevolent and wisely evolving kingship stands as the only workable alternative to the institutional vacuum of a transient time—then those who call this system their own must be considered fortunate.

Bhutanese statehood is not only an internal Bhutanese affair—it is also a deeply Asian affair, largely determined by frictions and slides along the Sino-Indian fault. To spell it out more clearly, the future of Bhutanese statehood depends to a considerable extent on the evolution of bilateral relations between New Delhi and Beijing. India alone has been the single outstanding external determinant of Bhutanese affairs so far, and its influence does evolve: over time, the commercial interest has been added to the earlier geo-strategic considerations. The emphasis on the ‘suzerainty’ aspect of the relationship, typical for the imperious Gandhi/Con-gress era, has given way to a more hands-off policies. Not that the new Indian polity has lost its interest in Bhutan—surely New Delhi wants Thimphu still firmly placed in its orbit.

For India, Bhutan is useful as a reliable and predictable political ally. New Delhi has learnt its lesson from the Sikkim episode: a politically firm and economically viable ally is better left in its sovereign (or ‘suzerain’) status, especially if a good part of its exchequer is quite generously funded from the West. In the event of a Sikkimisation of Bhutan, India would have a
two-fold problem: apart from the bilateral scrap with China which would inevitably ensue, the cost of Bhutanese upkeep would fall entirely back upon New Delhi as the Western donors would have withdrawn.

As of now, the overall terms of the Bhutan-India relationship have become more calculable and rational. Bhutan’s perimeter of action has increased, even though as a result, it has had to fend for itself more than earlier. Bhutanese diplomacy has been up to the task, skillfully negotiating the terrain and expanding Bhutan’s room for manoeuvre vis-a-vis India. An official visit by a Chinese high official, which happened in September 1999, would have been unthinkable back in the times of Indira or Rajiv Gandhi.

The matter of immediate concern to Bhutan’s leaders is the spillover of the ethnic and secessionist strife in the Indian Northeast, which has been spreading from Assam into the jungles of southern Bhutan over the past few years. These forested tracts have emerged as a natural safe-heaven for the Assamese secessionists and militants. The danger here goes beyond the obvious, for it may touch upon the little explored, and conceivably perilous ethnic imbalance, along Bhutan’s mountainous east-west axis.

The problem with the southern Nepali-speakers may blind us to the fact that the Bhutanese north does not stand together as firmly as it may appear. Although more than three centuries have passed, the fine ethnic and religious distinctions between the two main communities of Bhutan’s north have not disappeared. The original population, after all, were the Scharchop, who apparently came in from the east in early middle ages to settle in present-day Bhutan. The ‘newcomers’ from
Tibet, the Ngalong, arrived in the early 17th century, led down through the passes by the founder of modern Bhutan, Shabdrung Ngawang Namgyal.

The Scharchops still stick to the original Nyingmapa teachings of the Tibeto-Himalayan founder
of Buddhism, Guru Rinpoche. The Ngalongs follow the reformed Kargyupa teachings of the great lama and statesman, Shabdrung. In the remote southeastern areas of Bhutan, populated by Scharchops, Khyens and several other smaller tribes, the appeal of the escalating agitation by the Bodos and ULFA may be too good to resist. This, then, opens an additional front in the Bhutanese struggle for maintaining its space. A possible link of this type may not be as fanciful as it may at first seem.

Ironically, the extension of Assa-mese insurgency into Bhutan could be a kind of blessing-in-disguise for the somewhat frail creation that is the Druk nation-state. The presence of an external enemy is the best focus for rallying support at home and forging national unity around a common cause. The debates and motions during the just concluded Tshongdu session have already moved in this direction, and have ‘exploited’ this opportunity presented by the Bodos. Will the traditional astuteness of Bhutanese authorities, which moves to the fore when matters of national interest come up, succeed in turning this clear and present danger into a national advantage this time as well?

The presence of Western donor assistance in Bhutan has to also be seen in this light. Though substantial, the Western material support for the country’s development is not something Bhutan cannot not do without. Thimphu welcomes external funding even though the national financial institutions are awash with liquidity. Likewise, technical assistance and training abroad are welcome as a means to build the base to be part of the impending global economy. However, the usual donor leverage, as enjoyed in conventional recipient countries, is remarkably reduced in Bhutan. Because Bhutan’s economy retains its strong subsistence base, it can afford a slower pace of development if for some reason Western aid were to be withdrawn.

Few development workers seem to realise that the prevailing significance of Western aid for Bhutan is not its volume, but the aid agencies’ physical and political presence in Bhutan. This presence of Western donors and their coordination and liaison offices (mostly treated like small embassies) is regarded by the government and intelligentsia as a small but significant safeguard of Bhutan’s sovereignty. In the last resort, this presence could make the spoil sharing between the behemoth neighbours, should they ever think of it, more difficult.

Meanwhile, the objectivity of the Western donor representative in Thimphu is a good subject for discussion. Certainly, Thimphu is a good place to live and work in, for the few selected ones. The sense of being the chosen ones, having direct access to high places in Bhutanese society and polity—keep in mind a polity that takes very good care of its donors—may lead the occasional representative to succumb to the temptation of wallowing in self-importance and losing track of societal trends. The fact is, however, even if they weep rivers of tears when leaving the country, few donor representatives leave fully blinded by the country’s aura.

Indeed, there are representatives who voice critical opinions about Bhutanese affairs, and even take action. However, like so much having to do with Bhutan, these criticisms and actions are kept out of the public eye and remain a matter of bilateral dealings between the government
and the bilateral agency. This is not necessarily good, more ‘glasnost’ would help indicate what is going well and what is not. But who is going to pioneer and risk the cosy relationship which provides such self-importance and leverage?