I send Katherine an email. Would she leave her work and family, including her seven-year-old twins, to come to Bhutan to give some workshops, for no pay? Surprisingly, she says yes. Shangri-La appeals to just about everybody. Dolma prepares our spare bedroom for her arrival.
Katherine arrives with a suitcase full of marketing books, post-it notes and coloured textas. She hands them out in her first workshop then leads the advertising team through a series of questions, to build a profile and mental image of the Bhutan Observer reader.
How does he wake up? With the sun.
What does he do first? If he is religious, he will do his practice.
What would he have for breakfast? A big traditional breakfast. Very big.
Get dressed in …? His gho.
Anything else? Yes, a watch. But it wouldn’t be a Rolex because the Fifth King doesn’t have one of those. Diesel is a good brand. He would buy it in Bangkok. He would get into his car, a Prado, driven by his driver, to work, where he would have tea.
What would he take to a meeting? A briefcase? No, a Parker pen.
Lunch? He would go home for lunch with his wife or go out with other Dashos.
What is in his home? He would have a house full of electronics – big plasma television, a washing machine, air conditioning if he lived in Phuentsholing.
Where would he go if he left the country? He would take his family to Bangkok for holidays.
Katherine repeats it to me over lunch, saying she can see many potential advertising opportunities. I listen in during the afternoon session.
‘Where’s that place with Buddha? Where Buddha started?’ she asks the team.
‘Bodhgaya?’ they suggest, referring to the spot in India where Buddha sat under the Bodhi Tree and attained enlightenment.
‘Do Buddhists go there?’ she asks.
The advertising department tell stories of people saving for years to send their parents on a pilgrimage to this sacred spot before they die. Every December, Druk Air puts on direct flights to Bodhgaya to cater for groups of Bhutanese pilgrims.
Katherine is thrilled. ‘Okay, at the start of October we could do an advertising feature on Bodhgaya – where to stay, buses to get around … what else is on your Buddhist calendar?’
I marvel at how skilfully she applies her experience to the business at hand.
By the end of the week, post-it notes are plastered all over computers in the advertising department and the team is abuzz, their energy palpable. Katherine takes workshops each morning, and the rest of the time we utilise her vast experience in all areas of publishing.
I show her, with some pride, our media kit. She winces, saying she thinks we need something a bit sharper. The kit is filled with facts about the newspaper and the Bhutanese market, but Katherine explains that companies don’t care what is good about our business. We have to talk about their business. Tell them what we can do for them. It sounds so obvious when she says it. She develops with the team a slick, targeted PowerPoint presentation and gives workshops on presenting.
Katherine is an expert in digital media, so she sits in on a management meeting to discuss IT. It turns out to be agony for both of us. The meeting is painfully slow. Phuntsho talks about hiring someone full-time to run IT for the newspaper and host the website forum. We go around the circle, giving our thoughts. Then we sit. Minutes pass with no-one speaking. Needrup adds a comment but falls silent again. After a couple of minutes he adds a further comment. Then we sit again. Not a word. Everyone looks at their feet except Katherine, whose eyes dart anxiously from person to person. I can feel her tension. She is not used to meetings where nothing happens. I feel her eyes on me and I wish I could say something to help. I can imagine her thoughts. Have we finished? Is the meeting over? Baffled, she says ‘Right then,’ in a tone of finality and goes to stand up, but everyone else stays seated.
I see myself in her agitation. I realise that this was me when I came here all those months ago. A model of efficiency, always with an eye on the next task. But the Bhutanese do not function that way. A meeting is not over till it’s over. I realise how I have been tempered, diluted even. I can sit and wait now. Not doing anything. Just waiting till everyone has said what they would like to or Phuntsho feels the meeting is over, or we run out of tea. This glacial pace is probably the hardest thing for a Westerner to get used to. We don’t do well with silence or inertia. Not socially, not in the office and certainly not in a meeting. If someone doesn’t say something we tend to ignore them and move on. Busy, busy, busy.
In management meetings run by Phuntsho, if someone is quiet, she will gently draw them out. It is all about harmony, everyone having a say. Shared responsibility.
I feel like I am watching this from a great distance with recognition of both sides. I see the benefits and pitfalls of both. That efficiency, that drive for productivity, is often criticised for being stressful. Perhaps. But it also means things get done. Phuntsho could do with a bit more of it in her office.
But there is also something friendly and companionable about sitting in silence with work colleagues. No pressure to speak. No haste. Everything in good time. I have come to like it, a lot.
Phuntsho declares Katherine’s three-week visit a success. It has given her new ideas and long-term plans for her company. The advertising team are also grateful, and show their appreciation by taking Katherine for a traditional Bhutanese picnic. They hire a minibus to go to a neighbouring valley and all get roaring drunk on Bhutanese whisky, before dropping her home in the early hours of the morning, falling over each other as they deliver her to our front door, all promising lifelong friendship via Facebook.
But it is after she has gone that the effects of her short visit are really noticeable. The advertising team is confident and enthused. I see them leaving the office looking polished in their ghos and kiras, each with an office laptop under their arm, ready to take their new slick PowerPoint presentation out into the Thimphu business world. Eat your heart out, Kuensel.
21
The Outside World
When you’re living in Bhutan, it can be easy to forget the rest of the world exists. But often the outside world comes to Thimphu. Celebrities visit to revel in the anonymity. And politicians come too, though their reasons for doing so are less clear. A month after John McCain’s loss to Barack Obama, he arrives in Bhutan with a 15-member delegation. His photograph with the Fifth King appears on the front page of Bhutan Observer. Representatives from governments in Kuwait, India, Denmark and Australia visit over a three-month period. On 18 May it is Israel’s turn.
Months after Operation Cast Lead, the horrific 22-day attack on Gaza, which ended in January 2009, Israeli diplomats launch a charm offensive across the world. Having been roundly criticised for the bloodbath that killed about 1,400 Palestinians and 13 Israelis, the country sets about reworking their image on the international stage. On the same day Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu meets with Barack Obama in the White House, his India-based representative arrives in Thimphu. Eli Belotsercovsky is Deputy Chief of Mission at the Israeli embassy in New Delhi. As part of a three-day goodwill visit, he has requested a meeting with Bhutan Observer.
Phuntsho, Tenzin, Needrup and I receive him in the boardroom. I know Phuntsho is impressed by the diplomatic status of our visitor because she has the office maid bring out the porcelain cups with lids for tea.
Eli is a tall, long-faced man in a dark grey suit, who reminds me faintly of an old boyfriend. Except Eli does not smile. At all. He asks polite questions that Phuntsho, Tenzin and Needrup answer as best they can. I guess from Eli’s face that he is having trouble processing their responses.
Israel has no diplomatic, historical or cultural ties with Bhutan and, as far as I can tell, the two countries have little in common. But Eli does not let that stand in the way of a new friendship. He is here to win over the newspaper and he throws himself
in. He says Israel is keen to strengthen relationships and wants to help Bhutan. He knows the two countries are very different and that his own country has ‘some troubles’ but he is here to offer help.
The Bhutanese are used to countries throwing money at them. The Japanese paid for garbage trucks; Australia sent firemen and sheep; Denmark funded a bodyguard business; Switzerland developed potato farming; Austria donated millions towards ‘good governance’; and so on. At one stage a consortium of European countries donated expensive mill machinery to enable the Bhutanese to earn an income from their forests. Some years later, Scandinavian countries donated millions to close down the business, compensate the workers and save the trees.
The Bhutanese accept such international generosity as their due. They believe the wisdom of their Kings has given the country good karma. The fact that Israel wants to help does not seem unusual. When Eli makes his offer, I can see Phuntsho’s mind working furiously. Where to start? There are so many areas where the newspaper needs help. Denmark funded Kuensel’s webpage, but Bhutan Observer already has one of those. She and Tenzin would like to build their own printing press, but they also need more office space, new computers, experienced staff … She starts with the staff.
Eli responds that in Israel they have many newspapers, so he is sure they can help train reporters, but then he edges the conversation back to Israel itself. He wants to understand the newspaper’s views on his country. He does not mention the 22-day conflict in Gaza, which was not covered by the Bhutanese media. I saw it on CNN, along with Netanyahu arriving at the White House, so I think I know what it is he is trying to say. But he speaks in such vague terms that the Bhutanese haven’t a clue. What do they think of his country? They look confused, so he changes tack. What international newspapers do they have a relationship with?
Most newspapers have publishing arrangements with foreign newspapers, giving them access to news from overseas without having to fund their own reporters on the ground. Once Eli knows which international newspapers Bhutan Observer buys stories from, he can get some idea of its political views and how it might be reporting Israel.
‘We sometimes send interns to India to do internships at the newspapers,’ Needrup responds helpfully.
I feel empathy for Eli, as I remember how I struggled to get my head around Phuntsho’s very specific vision for her newspaper. I try to help, and explain they don’t have relationships with anybody. Bhutan Observer doesn’t report international news. They don’t take news feeds from anywhere, including agencies such as Reuters or Associated Press. Eli looks at me in disbelief and it is all I can do not to laugh. I realise how I no longer find that odd. Sitting in this boardroom on the top of the world, with the sounds of discordant trumpets wafting in from a puja, it makes sense. I try to explain that some newspapers here reprint a couple of stories off the internet but Bhutan Observer decided not to. They believe that Bhutanese who are interested in the wider world can watch it on CNN and BBC.
‘What about news analysis? The global financial crisis?’ asks Eli.
Needrup explains that for something like the world recession they would invite their best Bhutanese scholars to comment.
Eli asks about science and technology. No one responds.
Eli continues: ‘The Times of India have a full page. I realise Bhutan Observer is not in that category yet but how do you report on science and technology?’
Needrup shakes his head and Phuntsho explains they don’t. This is a truly Bhutanese model for a newspaper, she declares. Her tone makes it clear that she is proud that Bhutanese people want to read about what happens inside the country. I watch as the realisation dawns on Eli’s face.
‘You report only on what happens inside Bhutan?’ He looks both incredulous and shocked. ‘You report no international news … at all?’
They nod proudly. Eli is at a loss for words. He opens his mouth and then closes it again. There really is nothing left to say, and he stands to leave.
His Bhutanese driver takes him off for the rest of his tour, including a visit to the Gross National Happiness Commission, which has the final say on all government policies – any policy that doesn’t make society a happier place, regardless of its economic benefits, will not be approved. I wish I could go with him. I cannot begin to imagine what that meeting will be like.
Eli’s visit is a reminder that outside the country the world is a troubled place, facing massive challenges. Mal and I keep up with international news on CNN, BBC and online news sites, and are well aware of the global financial crisis that has captured the world’s attention. But the crisis has mostly passed Bhutan by. The country is so cut off from the world economy that it will have little effect. The two Bhutanese banks are not part of the international banking system. Visa, MasterCard and American Express cannot be used here. The ngultrum is pegged to the Indian rupee but remains worthless outside the country. Even though the rupee is accepted in Bhutanese shops, banks on the Indian side of the border will not exchange ngultrum.
Bhutan exports agriculture, hydropower and cement to India, but most of the country’s income comes as an annual donation from India. Due to Bhutan’s strategic location – wedged between India and China – India considers supporting Bhutan an important part of their own national security and will continue to do so, regardless of the global financial crisis. It behaves in many ways like a protective big brother to Bhutan, training its army, providing the services of its own air force and maintaining an army presence within the country. Bhutan and India have a friendly arrangement where their citizens can work and travel in both countries without requiring a visa or passport. In matters of its own government and foreign relations, however, Bhutan maintains its independence.
As the leader of the world’s newest democracy, Prime Minister Thinley was invited to address the United Nations. He took the opportunity to suggest a Bhutanese approach to the financial crisis:
We need to wake up from our narcissistic slumber and self-indulgence, and realise that economic wellbeing is not human wellbeing. We must break away from the shackles of the powerful forces of the market. For that matter, could the unravelling of the market-based economy, as evident in the financial crisis, be a glimpse of the truth that mindless and irresponsible economic growth cannot go on. It is neither sustainable nor fair to future generations. Above all, we could be condemning our own selves to an old age of burdensome debt and regret?
This brings us to the question, are our fundamentals sound? Is the GDP-led growth that has served as our measure of progress good enough for the future? What are the foundations of our civilisation and the values that guide us? As we get richer and live by the terms that we have set for ourselves, are we truly becoming more civilised or is it a downward spiral of de-civilisation in which we are trapped? Does economic growth translate as human development? Are we mutating to become senseless robots programmed to be materially productive, to earn more, to want more, to consume more and more of what we do not need and will ultimately destroy us?
As human beings, should we not search for and be driven by higher values? Do we not have needs beyond the material, beyond that of the body alone? Can we conceptualise a holistic alternative paradigm for meaningful and sustainable development that places the wellbeing of the individual and community at the centre and gives cause for true happiness as opposed to fleeting pleasures?
This historic event was a moment of satisfaction and triumph for the Bhutanese, who are proud that their attitudes to money and economic growth differ from those of other countries. Bhutan Times reported the Prime Minister’s speech on its front page, praising his elegance and humility – ‘the small Bhutan flag pinned to his simple black gho’. Kuensel published an editorial six days later, describing the speech as offering a ‘Himalayan perspective’ on the Wall Street crisis.
The rest of the world press, however, ignored the speech – and advice – completely. Outside Bhutan it was
not reported. The Prime Minister’s voice was drowned out by the cacophony of the world media trying to understand how the global financial crisis happened and who was to blame.
Bhutan’s media also did not dwell on it for long. Very quickly, journalists moved back to more immediate concerns – the potato harvest, a lhakhang robbery, the Fifth King’s forthcoming visit to the east. The only references in newspapers to the global financial crisis are comments from the government that tourism may be down in the coming year. The crisis that sends shock waves around the world, directly affecting billions, and becoming one of the defining news stories of the decade, is just not of interest to the majority of Bhutanese.
22
Floods of Change
On the morning of 26 May 2009, Mal, Kathryn and I cross the little bridge from Tashi Pelkhil village and drive straight into Bhutan’s biggest traffic jam. We squeeze into a line of three rickety old buses, each overflowing with monks. The traffic is moving so slowly that boy monks get out and run back and forth between them. Their heads are freshly shaved and they are grinning. Robes flying, sandals flapping. Thousands of cheering well-wishers line the road, ignoring the drizzling rain. We wonder what we have missed – what’s the celebration? Did Bhutan win an archery tournament?
We have become used to not knowing what is going on around us. Public announcements about road closures and the like are often only in the Dzongkha edition of BBS evening news. Somehow word of mouth means every Bhutanese person keeps up, but no-one thinks to mention it to us chillips.
The Dragon's Voice Page 18
