“We love our King,” proclaims Kingal, a Bhutanese man I am chatting with. I have heard this sentiment throughout Bhutan. The people here keep pictures of him in their homes, in their businesses; they say prayers for him. It is as if he is a part of their lives, and “love” is not a casual, metaphorical term. It seems to accurately describe the emotion they have for him.
This year is momentous for this tiny Himalayan kingdom: they are celebrating 100 years of the Wangchuck dynasty, and the fifth King, Druk Gyalpo Jingme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck, was just coronated on November 6th — the date deemed auspicious by “three enlightened astrologers.” Thursday was the eighth day of the ninth month of the earth male rat year. But just as notably, Bhutan had its first election in March 2008. The Kings deemed it important that Bhutan transition to a parlimentary democracy, with the king in a background role, much like the royal family of England.
Still, many people here actually prefer monarchy. The King cares for them; he has brought them peace and stability. He is the officially the Protector Of The Nation’s Security, Guardian Of The Constitution, and Inspiration For Gross National Happiness. Some of the Bhutanese look around at democracies, especially struggling ones, and aren’t sure they like what they see. As the newspaper Bhutan Today reported, “For the Bhutanese, who have lived peaceful lives for a century under the benevolent monarchy, the new form of government brings some apprehension.”
What is it like to have a leader you can believe in? Given the upcoming regime change in Washington, and my American citizenship, I might be about to find out. The experience with the enthusiastic, adoring Bhutanese is leading me to question what kind of relationship a person should have with their head of state.
I was born during the Reagan reign, and for my entire life, I think my emotions toward the leader of my people only ranged from strong disdain to unadulterated hatred. During the U.S. presidential campaign, I kept my distance from the whole affair, like a shy girl who doesn’t dare to dream that the boy she likes would actually talk to her. I spent the primary campaign in Spain, where I studiously avoided all captions in El Pais that referred to Clinton or Obama, preferring to track the Spanish election instead. I took in fragments of the presidential debates — a piece of a satellite broadcast while crossing the Pacific, a snippet of CNN in the Tokyo airport departure lounge — because curiosity got the better of me.
I did manage to vote, thanks to an American activist I ran into on November 3rd. I was sitting on a stoop on Jalan Kajeng, my adopted Balinese street, sheltered from the downpour beneath an alcove, talking with some Balinese boys. A vivacious woman in her fifties came over to explain to them (in fluent Balinese) that their puppy may have distemper, and then she turned her attention to me. I gave the briefest rendition possible of my voting-paperwork troubles. “You can still vote!” she enthused. “I’ve gotten over 100 people to vote here in Bali.” She ushered me inside her home, poured me a mix of local arak and juice that she called “Obama Punch”, and printed off the requisite forms. Then she gave me an umbrella-sized straw hat so I could run down to the local music shop and use their fax machine to fax my ballot. Her energy was contagious, and for the first time, I had been infected with the hope meme. Was it possible that my country could actually choose a competent leader?
But Obama is smart — he reminded us in his address that he can’t fix everything. “Above all, I will ask you to join in the work of remaking this nation, the only way it’s been done for 221 years — block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand,” he explained in his address. Obama’s not trying to be a king, a patriarch with all the answers and solutions. Is that what the people of America want? Are they ready to embrace “a new spirit of service, a new spirit of sacrifice”?
I watched this address with an eighteen-year-old boy named Singye from his farmhouse in Bhutan. We sat on carpets in a bare room, and drank tea while we watched the blurry picture. I tried to explain what was going on.
“We have a new leader right now, too.”
“What’s his name?”
“Barack Obama.”
“Is he married?”
“Yes, with two children.”
We talked a little about race, about history, about the celebration shown on the streets of Chicago — a quarter of a million Americans (which is more than a third of Bhutan’s population) turned out to celebrate. In Bhutan’s capital, Thimphu, they will celebrate for three days: solemn ceremonies, concerts with traditional dance, archery. The streets are lined with Buddhist flags — red, yellow, blue, green, white — and at night, the trees and buildings is festooned with strings of rainbow light. Banners display poetic wishes like “May this supreme moment bring tones of peace and harmony.”
In honor of the coronation, all mobile phone communication are shut down during the day (I’d love to see how that would go over in America). There is even a carnival, complete with merry-go-rounds, a bouncy castle a dragon-boat that sways, all low-grade used equipment from India that wouldn’t have a chance passing Canadian safety standards. Still, Kingal, a grown man, has never seen anything like this in his life. Singye, like many of the people in more rural areas across Bhutan, probably still hasn’t seen a carnival: attractions like these are only found in the cosmopolitan city of Thimphu.
Singye and I don’t have a lot in common. He wears fashionable jeans, I lack modern fashion sense. He dreams of going to university in India to study engineering, so he doesn’t have to be a rice farmer like his mother. I’ve never had to farm for a full day in my life, and didn’t have to work at all to enter university. He eats rice that his family grew for breakfast, and drinks milk hot from their cow; I have Italian espresso and yogurt and Swiss museli, when I can choose. But we need the same things from a leader. His Majesty says that in this globalised world, we will face new challenges, “and we will have to find new ways of achieving our goal of Gross National Happiness, which is a goal that will never change.” Obama speaks also of the challenges that tomorrow will bring — “two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crises in a century.” These vastly different nations are both concerned with health care, education, peace, the economy, the environment.
Yet the approach is somewhat different. As His Majesty said when addressing a class of graduates, “We would be starting our career and ending it together. We will see each other grow old over time. But more importantly, we will see each other become wiser, more capable, more intelligent, and we will see each other serve our country well.” He sounds like a friend speaking to another friend. American politicians do try to be the friend, the guy next door, but it always seems absurdly put-on (although not to the red-state voters, I suppose). Canadian politicians are refreshingly professional in comparison; there is more of an employer/employee type of courtesy there. It’s hard to know what the most effective approach is: I can’t picture putting photos of Obama on my walls, or praying each day for him to make wise decisions (though the latter might not be a bad idea). Obama’s consciously avoiding the savior role, and he kind of plays to the guy-next-door crowd while respectfully maintaining some distance. I think my approach would be as a colleague: someone you are working on the same team with, to try to accomplish certain goals. It’s exciting to have a leader who you could even think of in that capacity. This is an auspicious time not just for Bhutan, but for the world.
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