Due to my work, I have had the great privilege of seeing two democratic transitions take place from relatively close quarters. These involved the transfer of power to elected representatives of the Tibetan exile government, as well as the democratic transfer in Bhutan. Both of these transitions involved small populations, and therefore, perhaps, they have not received the attention they deserve.
In 2011, a group of us who had been associated with the Tibetan exile government through personal attachment or through work, sat and talked with the Dalai Lama. He was exultant, and said that while he had often stated that the time of monks and kings ruling countries was over, he was glad to finally be able to act on that himself. As anybody who has conversed with the Dalai Lama will tell you, he blends a curious mixture of humour with seriousness in his speech. He referred to the Chinese government’s talk of him as a devil, and stuck his hands, with his index fingers pointing up on each side of his head, and said, chuckling, “Do you see my horns?”
He had a right to be delighted. The transition to democracy had been a very long project of his, begun even as he fled into exile in 1959. Dr Lobsang Sangay, who became the head of the elected exile government, was not the first elected head of cabinet. That designation belonged to Samdhong Rinpoche, often addressed as Professor Rinpoche, who was elected to that post in 2001, and then re-elected in 2006. It was only after this long testing of the waters, that the Dalai Lama devolved all power from his post, severing the link between his political and religious powers. He is supposed to be the 14th incarnation, and he told us, “Only after the Dalai Lama became political, in the time of the 5th Dalai Lama, was there controversy. Now, with no politics, I hope there is no controversy.” Smilingly, he added, “You do not have to believe in reincarnation, but I am the Dalai Lama, so I can surrender my power.”
Dr Sangay was given a newly created title, that of ‘Sikyong’ — or political leader. Prof Rinpoche had the first elected ‘Kalon Tripa’ — or Prime Minister. This month, Dr Sangay has been re-elected to his post, and will be taking up his duties soon, but the election was contentious, and reportedly the Dalai Lama was dismayed by the personalised and parochial nature of the campaigning. He is no longer the political leader, though, merely a spiritual one. He is the conscience-keeper of the nation.
In Bhutan, too, the issue of elections and opposition remains mired in complications. The Fourth King of Bhutan, Jigme Singye Wangchuck, had prepared the run-up to elections through a variety of ways. There had been public consultations on the Constitution before it was passed in July 2008. Before that, in 2007, there was a ‘mock election’ so that people could learn how to vote. No parties were represented, only four colours. People voted overwhelmingly for yellow, as that colour was the closest to the colour shawls that the monks and royals wear. Even before abdicating in favour of his son, in 2006, the Fourth King had made it a practice of allowing his ministers to act in a variety of posts, including as Prime Minister, and therefore it was no surprise that Jigme Y Thinley, who became the first democratically elected Prime Minister of Bhutan in April 2008, had served in the post before, twice.
Unlike Dr Sangay, Thinley lost his re-election bid in 2013, but that election too was marred by very personalised attacks. Although neither the new King, Jigme Khesar Wanghuck, nor the clergy, made public remarks, the people questioned the problems with democracy — this contentious procedure to elect their leader. In fact, while I was researching my book on Bhutan, I was intrigued to learn that there was no word for ‘Leader of the Opposition’ in Dzongkha, Bhutan’s state language, and a new word had to be coined — as all words with ‘opposition’ in it, had a negative connotation. In the current Bhutanese cabinet, no minister has served in such an exalted post before, not even the current Prime Minister, Tshering Tobgay.
I was in Bhutan earlier this month, and it became clear that in dealing with this problem — of the contention and discord that accompanies democracy — the Bhutanese did not look to India as an example. I do not believe the Tibetans do either.
The kind of democracy that is seen in the Indian Parliament is personalised, vicious, and often hypocritical. This saddened me. Sandwiched between India and China, both the Tibetans and Bhutanese have chosen democracy, but Indian democracy is so divisive, that they fear becoming like us.
Omair Ahmad is the Asia Editor for The Third Pole, reporting on water issues in the Himalayas