Radio Shangri-La_ What I Learned in Bhutan, the Happiest Kingdom on Earth - Lisa Napoli [79]
Carefully trained vines soften the concrete walls that separate the property from the noise and imposition of the busy, narrow street just outside. Apricot and apple trees dot the yard. Despite its name, Villa Italia’s exterior architecture is typically Bhutanese, trimmed with the colorfully painted, ornately stacked wooden edging that adorns every building across the land. The interior of this apartment building, though, lives up to its title; richly tiled bathrooms and terrazzo floors lend an air of understated European elegance. Modern Italian fixtures and appliances distinguish the villa from the handful of other fine homes in Thimphu that are also inhabited by VIPs.
The gathering I have decided to attend is on the topmost floor; during this trip, I was staying at a borrowed apartment on the ground level. About half the guests focused on the fact that 2008 was about to begin, their sights set on the clubs they’d visit after a fusion meal of breaded chicken cutlets and emadatse. The other half was more concerned with election coverage—including the host himself, for he was to be a candidate in the second, as-yet-unscheduled phase of the election.
Lyonpo Ugyen Tshering—lyonpo being the Dzongkha word for minister—had ably served Bhutan in a number of roles. He and seven other king-appointed ministers had resigned their posts earlier in the year in order to form a political party and run for office. Leaving one’s job was a prerequisite for tossing one’s hat in the ring, to avoid any conflicts of interest and allow the candidates to focus on this important election. This group dubbed their coalition Druk Phuensum Tshogpa, or DPT, which translates loosely to mean Party of Blissful Harmony. The campaign slogan they crafted wisely incorporated an important piece of Bhutan’s national identity: “In Pursuit of Gross National Happiness” proclaimed their campaign literature.
It almost didn’t matter that the rival People’s Democratic Party (PDP) had chosen as its theme a phrase that smacked of a high school campaign promise: “Service with Humility. Walk the Talk.” Their decided advantage was that the uncle of the king was at the helm. A citizenry that revered its monarch seemed quite likely to choose a person close to him for the crucial job of leading the first democratic government.
Each party published manifestos that promised lofty improvements for their countrymen: help for the poorest, installation of roads and electricity for the remote areas still unconnected, access to education for all, continued protection of natural resources. Each offered only vague suggestions about how these formidable goals would be accomplished. And each promised, first and foremost, to uphold and further promote the beloved monarchy, ignoring the reality that by their very existence, they would be undermining it. There weren’t any major philosophical differences between the two groups, and neither touched on any subject that could be construed as controversial, most notably the refugee camps over the Nepalese border, filled with a hundred thousand people with disputed Bhutanese citizenship. (The refugees claimed to have been tossed out because they weren’t ethnically pure; the Bhutanese government maintained they had illegally immigrated.) But issues weren’t really the point in this election. In the end, the deciding factor would be the popularity of each party’s members, and their tenacity in campaigning. Though the PDP had an edge because of its royal connection, no one presumed that meant they had a lock on a win.
For the DPT to boast important civil servants like Lyonpo Ugyen among its roster of stars was a tremendous asset. He was descendent of a family that had served the king honorably and he himself had given his career to his country, including nine years as Bhutan’s ambassador to the United Nations. Lyonpo Ugyen’s personality was as much an