Bhutan

An unwanted election in Bhutan

Democracy comes to the tiny Himalayan kingdom

STREAMING down mountain paths in their best national costume, thousands of Bhutanese turned out to vote in their country’s maiden election on Monday March 24th. Early estimates suggested that over 72% of some 320,000 registered voters had cast a ballot—a triumph for civic educators in the fastidiously-ministered Himalayan kingdom.

Of two political parties contesting the poll—both led by a former prime minister—the Druk Phuensum Tshogpa (DPT) won with a landslide. Voters may have approved of the many former ministers among its candidates: there being little else to choose between the DPT and its rival, the People’s Democratic Party (PDP).

In Bjeezam village, in central Bhutan, a queue of voters awaited the opening of a polling-station, a primary school in a paradisal wooded gorge, beside a crashing mountain stream. Many had travelled 200km from Thimpu, the capital, to vote in the place of their birth. As they passed through the school’s gates, local peasants and city-slickers turned a giant Buddhist prayer-wheel that stood there.

“Democracy can be a good thing—we hope,” said one metropolitan voter, Norbu Wangdi, putting a brave face on a political transition that has stirred more fear than joy in Bhutan.

Leaders of both the parties have said they would prefer to have remained under the former monarchic system. Many voters said they were casting a ballot—with a heavy heart—simply because this was the wish of their recently-abdicated ruler, King Jigme Singye Wangchuk.

Few elected governments could boast of the king’s record. Accelerating a reform process begun by his father, whom he succeeded in 1972, the king transformed Bhutan from one of the world’s most reclusive poor countries to one of its more enlightened.

Over the past 25 years its economy has grown at an average annualised rate of 7%, mainly on the back of sales of hydro-generated electricity to India. With massive investments in public health care, life expectancy has risen from 40 years at the time of the king’s succession to 66 years today. The school enrolment rate leapt by over 20% in the 1990s.

At the same time, the king maintained a strict control on the lives of his 700,000 subjects, especially through rules to preserve environmental resources and the Buddhist culture of the majority. In a society rich in sacred streams and memories of demons, this was, by and large, popular.

Yet a big minority of Nepali-speakers from the country’s south, including many Hindus, had more to complain of. Some among them became violent in 1990, to protest against their perceived marginalisation. In response, the government drove around 60,000 southerners—including, it said, many illegal immigrants—into Nepal. Most languish there still, in UN-run camps.

America recently offered sanctuary for as many as 60,000 of these refugees. But it will not resolve the worries of over 100,000 Nepali-speakers who remain in Bhutan. Thousands have been denied citizenship and voting rights because of their association with the lot sent into exile. For them, at least, democracy may offer a better future. Of 47 candidates, the DPT fielded nine Nepal-speakers; another six contested the election for the PDP. Officials in both parties said that resolving the southerners’ grievances would be a priority of their government.

More generally, candidates promised voters more of the sort of developments they had received at the former king’s favour—especially more electricity connections and rural roads. Both parties keenly expressed loyalty to the former king, and to his 28-year-old son and successor, King Jigme Khesar Namgyal Wangchuck. This was unsurprising. Besides its leader, Jigmi Thinley, the PDT boasted another former prime minister among its candidates and several former ministers. The DPD is led by a former prime minister, Sangay Ngedup, a brother of the former king’s four wives—who are also sisters.

Nonetheless, the election campaign saw an unexpectedly high degree of rancour between the rival candidates and their supporters. In Bjeezam, some voters said they feared this might lead to constant feuding between the two parties—or even civil war. Others said that they feared that, after India’s example, Bhutan will now see a surge in corruption. And so saying, they spun the prayer-wheel, and cast their vote.