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
(from : http://www.kuenselonline.com/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=15402,
Kuensel)