Thimphu: When Jigme Singye Wangchuk, the outgoing king of Bhutan, coined Gross Domestic Happiness as a development index some years ago, the world probably dismissed the idea as a monarch’s whimsy conjured on a spring morning in his idyllic kingdom. But in 2006 he got bolder. At the age of 51 he decided to abdicate in favour of his eldest son, the 26-year-old Jigme Khesar. And last year, he introduced sweeping political reforms by ordering the country’s first parliamentary election and curtailing the powers of the monarchy, including a compulsory retirement age for future kings at 65.
The dramatic transfer to a constitutional monarchy was followed by a terrific party. Festivities for the young king’s coronation last November lasted a week and neatly coincided with celebrations of a hundred years of Bhutan’s monarchy. The country is still recovering from the feasting and spectacle to which invitees flocked from round the world. None of these things took me there this week, however. I was on a four-day summer break and found Bhutan’s spring unfolding on many levels.
First, the breathtaking beauty of the country: unspoilt hillsides with thick tree cover of pine and fir, apple blossom lining fast-flowing rivers and banks of wild azalea, orchid, vivid rhododendron and hydrangea colouring the landscape. Rarely have I encountered a people as collectively devoted to gardening and preserving; they showed off prize specimens of plants as if they were rare treasures. The botanical interest of the Bhutanese is exceptional. Everywhere, man and beast appear to be in splendid harmony with nature.
Second, the sense of well-ordered calm and cleanliness. No litter, no clogged, open sewers, none of the piles of refuse that make most public spaces in India resemble an endless garbage dump. Outside Thimphu we passed two large manmade ponds. “City sewage tanks,” explained our driver helpfully.
Bhutan is a highly codified society, with rules based on the Buddhist ideal of the larger public good overriding personal interest. Tourism, the country’s second biggest revenue earner after hydro-electric power exports, is regulated on the principle of “high value low volume.” Unless on private invitation, visitors must book through one of 400 licensed agents and be prepared to pay $200-250 a day, of which $70 goes to the exchequer. As a result, some of the world’s most superior hotel groups have established resorts but they can’t do as they please. Strict municipal rules govern architectural style. No dwelling, from peasant’s hut to palace complex, can deviate from the traditional pattern of sloping roofs, window frames and elaborately painted eaves that decorate all buildings.
Dress codes similarly articulate a sense of identity and social station. Just as the colours of lamas’ robes denote their place in the religious hierarchy, so do men and women’s costume stand for self-worth and mutual respect. I asked our hostess if she would accompany us to Tashichhodzong, the magnificent 17th century fortress in Thimphu that is the country’s administrative, religious and royal seat. “In that case I will have to go home and change,” she said, referring to her casual wear of slacks and sweater.
A nascent democracy will challenge the old rules and make for a proper study in a country that only abolished serfdom in the 1960s but today shows some of the healthiest social indicators in the sub-continent. After she had quizzed me on the ongoing Indian election, I asked Sangay Zam, a former school principal who is the newly-elected MP from Thimphu, about the most pressing matter on her hands. She said she was defending 90 families facing eviction in a part of the city that had been declared forest land. A familiar problem for MPs anywhere; but it sparked off a major debate at the lunch table, with guests arguing over resettlement, fair compensation or subsidy for low-level, low-cost housing that would preserve the area’s character. Interesting seasons are certain to follow Bhutan’s political spring.