Many
Questions, Few answers.
PERSPECTIVES 9 May, 2010 - In Laos
there is a saying that too much education makes you unhappy. This proverb is
contrary to everything you hear these days — namely that education is the key
to everything.
But this kind of folk proverb has a lot of wisdom, in part because we often
only identify issues as problems when we have knowledge and information about
them. So we don’t really know whether our peace and happiness are due simply to
ignorance or to our ability to make ourselves truly happy even when we have
knowledge.
But there is more wisdom in that Laotian proverb, because education
sometimes seems to make us so greedy and stressed. Many of my friends,
particularly in Asian countries like Singapore and Hong Kong, are pushed
relentlessly from a very young age to study so hard, get A’s, go to university,
be competitive, get bank jobs, work around the clock, and live totally
scheduled lives. They don’t have a life; they are stressed; and they aren’t
very happy.
By contrast, Laotians still manage to smile and be friendly despite having
been bombed more than any other country for a mistake they didn’t even make.
From my own experience there, I think it may have something to do with Laotians
being very laid back and seemingly not very ambitious or greedy.
Educating for GNH
S o what does Educating for Gross National Happiness mean? For Buddhists, I
don’t think GNH is anything new, and in fact was taught by the Buddha 2,500
years ago when he said that where there is greed, there is no happiness.
Thus, for a trained Buddhist ear, people’s lament about the recession last
year was simply their complaint that they could no longer satisfy their greed.
And globalization really means multiplying our individual greed globally.
Considering some statistics that show the average American presently
consumes 30 times the resources of one Indian, it is frightening to think what
will happen when the Indians and Chinese become as rich as they want, or even
to half the level of Americans – and (perhaps unfortunately) they are becoming
rich. For a start, there won’t be many trees left and we are already nervous
about the climate change impacts of growing energy use in India and China.
So if GNH means anything, and if it has to do with protecting the natural
world, then it must also be about not letting greed be the driver. But how do
we teach that, and how do we implement that in practice in Bhutan? These are
questions not just for the Royal Government of Bhutan, but for all Bhutanese.
Sovereignty and independence require that we don’t owe too much to others,
which in turn requires economic development so that we can achieve greater
self-reliance. But can we do that without encouraging greed?
Educating creatively
S o genuinely educating for GNH in Bhutan must somehow meet the challenge of
the modern world, including preserving and strengthening precious sovereignty
and developing economically and materially, while at the same time preserving
our most vital, core traditional values and not giving in to greed. I believe
that fine balance is the essence of the Fourth King’s great pronouncement that
GNH is more important than GNP.
That fine balance means not simply preserving – just for their own sake –
traditions that have become counter-productive but allowing them to evolve
creatively.
So educating genuinely for GNH will require greater clarity and
understanding and then some tough decisions made with real courage and honesty
to redefine our priorities and values, and to change deeply ingrained habits
that no longer work.
To find the right balance between tradition and innovation, we have to be
truly creative. Culture cannot be preserved genuinely and joyfully through
imposition or obligation. Rather we have to find ways to practice elements of
our ancient culture in ways that are relevant, vibrant, alive, dynamic,
inspiring, modern, and even ‘fashionable’. A good example is the current
popularity of “Zen simplicity” in clothing fashions and home decorations, so
that it is a compliment to call someone’s taste “so Zen!”
Meeting these challenges is urgent. Major social problems are beginning to
emerge – like drug abuse, youth unemployment, and alienation. These are growing
at least as fast if not much faster than our commitment to GNH, and will not be
solved simply by adhering rigidly or blindly to old habits and traditions.
Because the stakes are high, and because GNH – as our professed guide for
development and change – requires honest discourse, I will focus on some of our
most sacred cows in the examples that follow.
1. Rethinking jobs
S ome of the causes of drug abuse, youth problems and alienation are certainly
in the growing wealth, consumption, and affluence that young people now see and
take as their own goals, and in trends that come with urbanization.
But, given our traditional hierarchical society, some likely stem from
things like the status we still accord civil service positions compared with
other jobs. I remember when I was young how much pride our village families
took when a family member got even a low-level civil service job in the
capital. In a traditional society like Bhutan that values status highly, even
small symbols like having the white lagye (sleeve), were such a big deal.
Sadly, these outmoded values are still nurtured by the many perks and
privileges given to higher-level civil servants with desk jobs. They are
perceived to be the ones with titles, the biggest houses and cars, salary
raises, overseas study and travel opportunities, and special robes – still one
of our country’s biggest obsessions now joined by special number plates for
cars. And of course, they have the greatest job security and perhaps the
illusion of power.
Not surprisingly I hear of young people who won’t tell their parents they
work as restaurant waiters, and simply say they work “in Thimphu,” so that
rural relatives will believe they have some important job.
At a time when the government can’t provide enough civil service positions
for our young, and promotes a policy to grow the private sector and encourage
young Bhutanese to stand on their own feet, we must have the courage to change
this old value system that no longer serves our country’s needs. That’s
difficult for strong traditional cultures like India and Bhutan, but we must do
it – in our educational system, in the media, through awards and recognition,
and in how we assign privilege, security and opportunity.
It’s not as if Bhutanese are not adaptable. I’ve seen even high-ranking
Bhutanese in Jackson Heights, New York, flip hamburgers, make sushi, and do all
kinds of so-called menial jobs, and they are proud to be able to send money to
their relatives back home.
Dignity of all labour seems to have a little more meaning there than in
Bhutan. We need to respect and value all kinds of work in Bhutan as well, not
just desk jobs in the civil service.
One example of how we could tackle these issues is to reduce our obsession
with traditional symbols that no longer serve us, including robes and scarves.
As we Bhutanese well know, symbols matter. We might say that sweeping the
office floor is an important and dignified job. But if the one working in the
office wears a special robe laden with meaning and the sweeper doesn’t, the
visible differences can undermine all talk of job dignity. Perhaps we could learn
from some of the world’s most powerful leaders, like the British Prime
Minister, whose dress is exactly like any other professional Englishman going
to work.
So if we are not yet quite ready to equalize some of the actual perks and
privileges that are now the almost exclusive domain of civil servants, we could
begin with symbols. One way or the other, we have to start respecting all kinds
of productive labour if we are to move ahead as a society.
This is even more important in our new and supposedly egalitarian democracy.
By contrast, our traditional dress codes are a residue of a very hierarchical
system that was a brilliantly appropriate method at the time the Zhabdrung, in
his wisdom, needed to overcome tribal divisions and unify the country. Equality
was not a core societal value at that time. But now, when our democracy values
equality, these hierarchical dress codes are a form of divisiveness, which is
actually contrary to the Zhabdrung’s unifying vision for Bhutan.
One person driving the latest Land Cruiser while another has to settle for a
Maruti and most cannot afford cars at all seems contrary to the “equitable”
economic development that is one of the key pillars of GNH. In any case, civil
servants generally have enough power through their positions that they do not
also need to flaunt decorations and visible symbols of elitism.
In all my remarks about the civil service, needless to say, I am not talking
about front-line workers like teachers, nurses, and police, who do some of the
hardest and most challenging work, often for very modest pay. Elsewhere in the
world, as well as here, these front-line workers need more, rather than less,
support and care.
2. Rethinking culture
O f course, one of the core pillars of GNH is culture, which is obviously very
important for the identity and sovereignty of a nation. But keeping a rich
tradition and culture vibrant and alive does not mean pushing people to do
exactly what their ancestors did 50 or 100 years ago. If we try to do that, we
will not only ruin the creativity and critical intellect of the young by
teaching them to mimic rather than create, but we won’t even keep our culture
alive or survive as a nation in the modern world.
Resisting change might serve a supposed purpose of GNH by encouraging people
to be happy with what they have. But unwisely insisting on the mimicking of old
habits also stifles avant-garde activity and innovation, fails to value
excellence, and ends up settling for mediocrity. And in the end, that approach
undermines rather than enhances GNH by making our culture static rather than
dynamic.
For example, the handicraft skills, about which we often brag, have become
stagnant, lack innovation, and in fact are fast eroding in Bhutan. It’s far
more expensive to make a traditional clay Buddha statue in Bhutan, even of
mediocre quality, than to buy a bronze one of much better quality in Kathmandu.
We are proud of our basket weaving, but the Indonesians put us to shame in
quality and innovation, let alone price. Our silver-smithing, wood-carving, and
thangka painting are generally mediocre at best, lacking in innovation, effort,
and attention to detail, and with poor workmanship and many imperfections.
And aside from the extremely expensive kiras and textiles that only the
richest Bhutanese can afford to wear, we have to admit that Lao, Cambodian, and
Thai weaving, textiles and arts are often far superior in quality to our own.
In fact, if the truth be told, there is very little hand-made coming out of
Bhutan that is exceptionally good in quality.
We just have to hope that tourists will still buy Bhutanese crafts just
because they are Bhutanese, and that Bhutanese will buy them out of patriotism!
But sooner or later people will find out that our handicrafts are mostly both
mediocre and expensive, and that really doesn’t work in this competitive age.
Of course, there are talented individual craftsmen working away quietly with
excellent motivation, who should really be helped and supported to create
first-rate products of which we can be truly proud. But sadly, our crafts
people rarely get to compare their own work or learn from other cultures,
because civil servants (not craftsmen) are the ones who take most of the funded
study tours to see industries in other countries.
Actually, many so-called traditions are little more than habits that we have
no choice but to change for our own sakes, such as our health. After all, our
lifestyles have changed drastically. For example, even though we still eat the
same amount of rice, cheese, and fat as a hundred years ago, many of us now
drive and sit behind computers rather than walk and work manually. For health
reasons alone, we need to change our diets.
Of course, some traditional forms can serve us well in the modern world,
like the traditional rammed earth buildings that are not only economically
sound and aesthetically pleasing but also ecologically responsible. But even
here, it is embarrassing that it took a billion dollar modern corporate
hotelier like Aman to show us Bhutanese that rammed earth design can be
extremely elegant rather than low-class and backward. We should be taking the
lead in such innovations.
And while we are on architecture, there is nothing traditional about the
ugly corrugated tin roofs that now deprive Thimphu of architectural elegance.
Of course, traditional wooden shingles are both expensive and ecologically
unsound given our Constitution’s commitment to 60% forest cover. But a creative
and innovative solution would be to design the new roofs so that they at least look
a little more like the elegant traditional wooden roofs that are more
aesthetically pleasing. For example, even though slate is mined in Bhutan, the
technology has not been developed.
Such innovations would be much better investments, for example, than the
endless paintings and carvings that are overly elaborate, expensive, difficult
to maintain, and not particularly creative since they look like they are mostly
made in the same mould. My point here is simply that – as we talk about
preserving our culture and traditions – we need to be much more discriminating
and precise in our choices. In particular:
• What are the true core values and principles in our ancient traditions that
are timeless and genuinely contribute to our wellbeing?
• What forms, traditions, and practices do we cling to rigidly that no longer
serve us, and that can be easily discarded, adapted, or changed in ways that
are far more appropriate to our current needs? And which ones are truly
valuable, aesthetically pleasing, and relevant to the modern world?
• And when we adapt, we need to choose our models carefully and with
discrimination. For example, I’ve noticed a growing tendency for affluent
Bhutanese to send their children to study in Bangkok rather than in India. Yet
Thailand, while it has a reputation in other areas, is not particularly well
known for its educational excellence. In fact, some of what we learn from
Thailand may teach us what not to do here in Bhutan.
By contrast, India, which also provides 70% of our foreign aid, produces
some of the world’s most highly educated people and has some of the best
innovative educational models available. As well, Bhutan and India share
centuries of thought, philosophy, and understanding, particularly since
Bhutan’s two major religious traditions originate in India.
3. Rethinking language
I want to say a few words now about the most sacred cow of all – language.
Quite frankly, there is a problem in every discussion of Dzongkha being
regarded as so highly “sensitive”. Surely the issue of the national language is
no clandestine project and should be squarely in the public domain.
Despite all the government encouragement and enforcement, most Bhutanese
still don’t speak Dzongkha, and most of those who do, speak it poorly with even
poorer reading and writing skills. I hear it is many students’ least favourite
subject and that there are not enough fluent Dzongkha speaking teachers to
teach it well. And even if you are a Dzongkha master, there is hardly any
literature to read except newspapers that are easier to understand in English.
I have even heard complaints that use of Dzongkha in Parliament
disadvantages and disempowers MPs from other areas, and that native
Dzongkha-speaking MPs sometimes rely on their eloquence rather than on the content
of their arguments. And the many Bhutanese who still don’t understand Dzongkha,
despite all the government’s efforts, cannot even follow what is going on in
the very forum that supposedly represents them.
Dzongkha doesn’t even preserve our precious wisdom heritage, culture, and
buddhadharma, which has been carried through Choekey, not Dzongkha. In fact
Dzongkha doesn’t do much to preserve our history, prayers, poetry, dance,
songs, philosophy, and more, since there are so few Dzongkha books, and since our
ancient texts like the Kangyur and Tengyur aren’t in Dzongkha. The few Dzongkha
books in existence are mostly very recent, and generally do not represent our
ancient heritage.
Even our monks often don’t understand what they are chanting, since all the
prayers recited in Bhutan are in Choekey, not in Dzongkha, and Chokey is not
native to anyone in Bhutan. So the Buddhist liturgies are simply parroted
meaninglessly rather than understood.
In fact Bhutanese will soon have to learn English to study and practice the
dharma, since there is already more dharma translated into English than into
Dzongkha. I know these are extremely touchy subjects. But in the process of
building a nation, tough questions have to be asked, and indeed, our new
democracy requires us to have the courage to debate these issues openly and
without fear.
The biggest concern about promoting Dzongkha actually has to do with time
management, since time is an increasingly rare resource in the modern world. If
you think of all our 178,000 Bhutanese students, then millions of hours are
spent each year studying Dzongkha. You cannot undertake any tertiary studies in
science, mathematics, philosophy, psychology or geography in Dzongkha, which
doesn’t even have the vocabulary really to discuss such disciplines properly.
And by the time any university text is translated into Dzongkha, it will likely
be outdated, or the Dzongkha will need to be updated.
Building a new national language is extremely difficult, and we have to ask
whether it is worth the huge effort required, and whether it’s the best use of
our very limited time and resources. I read that time and human resources are
the most precious resources we have in our modern economy. I would ask – if
only to provoke debate – that, if that is so, then aren’t we wasting a whole
generation’s precious time in forcing them to spend hours each week and year
learning a language they will hardly use – time that could be spent in much
more productive ways to build our nation?
I fully appreciate our leaders’ wish to have a unifying language as a symbol
of our sovereignty. But what is the experience of other nations in our region
in that regard? India is one of the most culturally rich countries in the
world, with hundreds of dialects and many major languages, each with its own
ancient literature. Attempts to promote Hindi as the national language have not
been successful, except in the popularity it enjoys in Bollywood, and English
still serves as a unifying language. At the same time India celebrates its
diversity by recognizing 18 official languages in its Constitution, and giving
citizens the right to communicate in the language of their own state and
choice. Similarly diversity could be a source of pride in Bhutan.
And if we do want to render our spoken languages into written form, then we
might learn from the Malays and Indonesians, who have adopted the Roman
alphabet for their own languages. Do we Bhutanese really want to expend so much
precious time and resources learning a written Dzongkha with its own distinct
script?
Of course, there is nothing wrong with teaching Dzongkha or Tshangla as
language studies, and even encouraging some translation to preserve certain
cultural traditions. It’s the balance between Dzongkha’s contribution to our
national identity and the huge expenditure of time and resources on cultivating
Dzongkha as the first national language that I am questioning.
And I am asking whether – given our very limited time and resources – strong
Dzongkha emphasis may actually undermine and diminish, rather than enhance, our
sovereignty and potential contribution to the world. Could we achieve those
goals more effectively, as India has done, by relying on English as our
unifying language without compromising (and indeed celebrating) our rich
linguistic and cultural diversity?
Seeking Answers
T o be loyal is not necessarily to be a sycophant. Often, saying what you think
can at least encourage some productive contemplation.
But I also know that we don’t have much time to find solutions to questions
like those above and that we need to act while parts of our ancient culture
remain resilient. For example, I am so moved that – in an era when the
entertainment industry is continuously seeking new and more dazzling ways to
satisfy the seemingly insatiable appetites of their television and other
audiences – Bhutanese continue to attend tshechus where each year’s offerings
are basically the same as the last. But will that commitment last?
I don’t know whether we can preserve our precious heritage in this
fast-changing and greedy materialist world. But I do know that if we are to
have any chance at all, we must at least have the courage to raise tough
questions, to abandon outworn practices, symbols, and traditions that no longer
serve us, to identify what is most genuine, wise, and lasting in our heritage,
and to adapt creatively and with integrity and innovation to this modern world.
Attaining that fine balance is the real challenge of a GNH-based education
system.
It is too idealistic to think that greed will disappear altogether. But in
some pockets of the world, like Bhutan, we might at least introduce a more
monitored and sober greed. After all, one great thing about the human mind is
that it can be influenced and that greed can therefore at least be ameliorated.
I am sure there will be a lot of interpretation of what I am saying here,
and I expect that. Some may accept it blindly just because a Rinpoche said it,
others might edit it in their minds or take it out of context, while still
others might get completely upset. But it’s not really my concern whether
people’s reactions are positive or negative. The questions I’ve raised are
simply ones I’d like to see discussed by all Bhutanese and to which I, for one,
am seeking answers.
In fact, no blame is intended in anything I’ve said. As I mentioned at the
start, responsibility does not rest with the Royal Government of Bhutan alone.
In a democracy, all Bhutanese are responsible for our country’s development,
for debating the tough issues, and for making choices.
I am not pretending either to know those answers or to imply that those of
us in the spiritual and monastic traditions are free of responsibility. On the
contrary, we too can no longer simply closet ourselves in monasteries, but need
to find new ways to contribute to the modern Bhutan. For example, I’d like to
see our monks help those schools that are now introducing meditation and
educate communities about preventing forest fires and alcohol abuse.
I could also be totally wrong even in the questions I am raising. But I
would rather say all this up front than just hear grumbling in the background.
After all, a new democracy requires that we identify the toughest challenges
and chew the most bitter truths if we really want to build a good nation in
this day and age.
By
Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse
