Bhutan’s reputation as the happiest country in the world is stained by its mistreatment and mass expulsion of the Lhotshampas — a sharp contrast to the jocund paradise it claims to be.

Bhutan, a tiny landlocked kingdom tucked in the mountainous regions of the Himalayas, has long been feted as a Buddhist Shangri-La in a region constantly plagued by conflict. Despite hosting the second-smallest population in South Asia, Bhutan has attracted laurels and praise from around the world — including from famous economists like Jeffrey Sachs and intergovernmental organizations such as the United Nations — for its willingness to mold a new, quantifiable metric of growth and development that is not fixated on the GDP growth rate. Plagued by religious and ethnic differences, Bhutan was initially built on the premise of granting citizenship to all those who lived within its legally defined borders. Now, Bhutan’s odyssey as a modern state is firmly rooted in territorial control and occupation.

In 1972, as an alternative development paradigm to economic growth, Bhutan’s King Jigme Singye Wangchuck proposed using Gross National Happiness (GNH). The subsequent pursuit of happiness by the Bhutanese government has been echoed and widely reported by mass media — informing policy-makers and social scientists alike — resulting in the passage of a United Nations (UN) resolution in 2011 that recognized happiness as a “fundamental human goal.” 

However, while large swathes of experts and pundits in the world of socio-economic development celebrate Bhutan’s progress in human development social indicators, not everyone testifies to the greatness of the modern-day Shangri-La. At the heart of the kingdom lies a dark underbelly drastically different from the reality portrayed by the Bhutanese government, which — in an attempt to create a homogenous national identity pinned on a uniform political-cultural matrix — contributed to the marginalization and expulsion of “the other”: Lhotshampas, or Bhutanese of Nepali descent. The journey of the Lhotshampas has been far from easy, as it has been marred by false notions of happiness perpetuated by international media and tales of inter-generational trauma meted out by actions by the Bhutanese government.

The Dragon’s Lair Is Shaken
The notion of Bhutan as a modern nation began with the unification of the country in 1907 and the passage of the Citizenship Act in late 1958. Both events demonstrated a desire and concentrated effort to unify the diverse ethnic groups that exist within the country — from the Ngalongs (or Ngalops) in the West, to the Sharchops in the East, and to the Lhotshampas (or 'Nepali Bhutanese') in the South — into one single “nation.” 

However, therein lies the problem. Each of these groups is not only ethnically and linguistically diverse, but they also have drastically different religious orientations. While Buddhism is actively practiced by both Ngalongs and Sharchops — though in varying degrees — the Lhotshampas follow Sanatan Hinduism, a prevalent religion in neighboring India and Nepal. The Lhotshampas are culturally different from those who reside in proximity to them in their own country, to the point where they have more in common with fellow Nepalis than they do with local neighboring groups, The Lhotshampas follow Hinduism and speak the Nepal language — two markers of identity similar in Nepal but different in Bhutan — and something that Bhutanese politicians argue adds to the Lhotshampas’ sense of “foreignness”. 

Following the violent events that unfolded in Bhutan as a result of the Chinese occupation of Tibet in 1959 and India’s annexation of Sikkim in 1975, Bhutan’s citizenship laws — which are inherently based on territorial policy — adopted a more restrictive, ethnocentric tone. By passing them, the new king — Jigme Singye Wangchuck — doubled the residency requirements for those working the land and tripled them for those serving in the Bhutanese government. The Citizenship Act further served as an exclusionary policy with its decision to deny citizenship to individuals related to any person involved in “anti-national” activities against Bhutan, its people, and its king, ultimately paving the way for the explicit marginalization of latter dissenting voices — the majority of whom were members of the Nepali-speaking minority. 

In addition to the entwinement of legal procedures with an exclusionary definition of what it meant to be “Bhutanese”, citizens were expected to have knowledge of Bhutanese history and the Dzongkha language — the mother tongue of the ruling Ngalop (Drukpa) elite. Initially a source of substantial political might for minority groups, the concept of Bhutanese citizenship underwent a slow process of reformation. 

Efforts to marginalize minority groups did not stop with the implementation of more stringent citizenship laws. Relatively soon after the passage of the Citizenship Act, the Bhutanese government proposed the Marriage Act of 1980, which discouraged weddings between Bhutanese nationals and foreigners. Not only did the Act explicitly target Nepali Bhutanese that the state viewed as “illegal immigrants”, but it included provisions that barred civil servants married to non-Bhutanese from receiving promotions. The Bhutanese Parliament also passed legislation that restricted access to land, agricultural inputs, education, and training for both Lhotshampas and interracial Bhutanese. The Citizenship Act of 1985 further restricted citizenship to those who spoke Dzongkha and could provide proof of residence dating back to 1958.

Several decades later, in 1989, the Bhutanese government adopted the “One Nation, One People” policy, leading to the compulsory imposition of the traditional Buddhist code of dress and etiquette. The decision to do so only further cemented religion’s role in Bhutan’s national polity as aspects of the Drukpa Kargupa sect of Buddhism were incorporated into the core of the country’s symbols, values, and national identity. 

A Nation in Turmoil
Since the 1980s, the Bhutanese government has argued that illegal immigration threatens to transform the ethnic Bhutanese into a minority group within their own country. A final nail in the coffin came with the power play of demographics in 1989 in which the national census indicated that the Lhotshampas would eventually comprise Bhutan’s majority population. The land of ‘perpetual happiness and joy’ was overshadowed by the darkness of xenophobic nationalism even as massive and methodical campaigns promoting “Gross National Happiness” as an alternative measure of growth continued domestically and abroad. 

No large-scale massacres or ethnic cleansing has taken place in Bhutan — only arbitrary arrests, violent interrogations, and instances of disappearances after security forces arrived in the South to stop what turned out to be vandalism and fiery protests by a disgruntled minority of Lhotshampas. To stop what it deems as illegal immigration, the Bhutanese government expelled the Lhotshampas in hopes of preserving the country’s unique national identity that centered around ethnic and religious lines — particularly one derived from marginalized and exclusionary policies. Following the declaration of approximately 100,000 Lhotshampas as “illegal immigrants” in the 1988 census, Bhutan is one of the world’s principal points of origin for refugees per capita.

The successful adoption of more exclusionary citizenship laws paved the way for Bhutan’s star appearance as one of South Asia’s most tragic examples of forced displacement, even as the Bhutanese government continues to advocate for the notion of national happiness both domestically and abroad.  A series of “Bhutanization” measures in line with Bhutan's “One Nation, One People” policy further exacerbated this state of fear and resentment by attempting to impose a distinct national identity, thereby rendering part of its own population stateless. 

In this case, reality differs from expectations. Despite efforts to capitalize on happiness as a measure of growth and development, Bhutan’s model of an alternate society — as it currently stands — fails due to its forced expulsion of one-sixth of the country’s population. As long as the question of ethnic cleansing goes unaddressed, the issue of GNH remains under consideration and stands to be discredited for failing to account for the ongoing mistreatment of the Lhotshampas.

By the summer of 1992, India expelled and later banished tens of thousands of Lhotshampas to the squalid camps in Nepal. As a result, an estimated 80,000-100,000 Lhotshampas were no longer welcome in a country that they had called home and have since then been perceived as illegal immigrants by Bhutan. In this regard, GNH has morphed into a majoritarian concept that primarily appeases Bhutan’s Buddhist elite — yet is itself a sham — as it violates one of the principal indicators of GNH, that being cultural vitality and diversity. As it stands, Bhutan is a living contradiction of a nation, as happiness residing within the confines of only one group bodes poorly for the country’s sociopolitical futures. 

In September 1991, at the request of the Nepali government, the UNHCR assumed responsibility for all rehabilitation and relief efforts aimed at reducing the swelling number of refugees. Constant donor fatigue felt by organizations involved in relief efforts — paired with a lack of employment opportunities and social mobility — resulted in massive bouts of financial anxiety that rippled through the refugee population, as many struggled to eke out an existence in the squalid camps. 

The quagmire of uncertainty that followed forced the refugee population into a standstill of sorts as reconciliation talks between Nepal and Bhutan failed to produce any significant progress towards repatriation. To this day, relations between the two countries remain strained as a minority of Lhotshampas still reside in the camps, with a greater bulk having migrated to the West. Repeated failures to diplomatically resolve the situation on both sides further illustrates the seemingly never-ending tide of injustice that seems to follow the Lhotshampas at every turn. 

Not All that Glitters is Gold 
Currently, Amnesty International categorizes Bhutan’s refugee situation as “one of the most protracted and neglected refugee crises in the world.” As it stands, 6,470 refugees still reside in the camps in Nepal. In 2007, in an effort to make political headway, former U.S. Ambassador to Nepal James Moriarty brokered an agreement to resettle the Lhotshampas refugees in several Western countries, such as the United States and Canada. Since then, 85 percent of the refugees have resettled in the United States, where troubling statistics show that they suffer from higher suicide rates — 20.3 refugees per 100,000 people — than the national average of 12.4 for the country’s general population. For a country preaching the importance of attaining happiness on an aggregate level, the Lhotshampas refugee crisis is tragically ironic, as Bhutan’s diaspora bears the brunt of the trauma induced by the very government that robbed them of the one emotion it trumpets: happiness.

Despite comprising one-sixth of Bhutan’s population, the plight of the Lhotshampas garners minimal attention in the mainstream media. Branded by pundits and human rights organizations as “ethnic cleansing”, the expulsion of Lhotshampas still remains largely unreported and unaccounted for by the international community. On the other hand, relations between Nepal and Bhutan remain in a logjam as the Lhotshampas live in refugee camps waiting for a true reckoning of their country’s past. To date, the Bhutanese government still has not started a process to repatriate refugees who hold Bhutanese citizenship, leaving the issue both unaddressed and hardly recognized. 

The challenge now lies in Bhutan’s efforts to reconcile with its own history of exclusionary hegemony. To do just that, Bhutan must acknowledge and address the root causes of the issue at hand; in this case, the Bhutanese government can begin by offering a public apology to its own people and taking necessary steps to start a truth and reconciliation process that allows the Lhotshampas people to experience some sense of closure. The Bhutanese monarchy has a moral responsibility to confront the mistakes made in the name of nation-building — not only for their own peace of mind but for the sake of the Lhotshampas, who deserve a measured response to an injustice that has long stripped them of their nationality and basic civil rights. 

Rather than tying “Bhutanese” identity to one people or culture, Bhutan must also expand its definition of citizenship to become more inclusive, such as it was in 1958. If their status of nationality is not cemented in the country’s constitution, the Lhotshampas may become a permanent and forgotten pariah remnant with no guaranteed rights, thereby leaving them stateless in their own country.

The first step would be the peaceful repatriation of the refugees to their homes and the return of their properties. An accurate census arrangement is also in order; without one there can be no account for reparations or representation of the Lhotshampas in Bhutan, and no true reconciliation can take place. The Bhutanese government should amend the census, which it weaponized to the gradual expulsion of the Lhotshampas over decades, to account for all those residing in Bhutan. 

In the long run, the Lhotshampas must be given constitutional recognition and safeguards to not only ensure equal footing in shaping the future of Bhutan hereafter, but also to provide them with a chance to partake in the drafting of a new constitution that explicitly addresses the question of whether citizenship is a process of naturalization extending to all individuals born or living within the nation’s borders, regardless of their race or religion. Recognition through proper reparations and constitutional recognition is an important step in paving a unified future for the kingdom to move past this tragic episode of exclusion and exile.

Reverting to Bhutan’s initial 1958 Constitution is yet another viable option that provides stronger safeguards that protect the country’s various ethnic, religious, linguistic, and sexual minority groups. If the Bhutanese government does not resolve its glaring injustices, the question that remains is: How long can the paradise of Shangri-La last if it does not include all of its people?

One of the ways in which the Bhutanese government can redress this issue is by allowing refugees who wish to repatriate to do so under conditions that are compatible with human rights laws — particularly for those who have not opted for third-country resettlement and simply wish to live in Bhutan. The right to return is not a sufficient condition for ensuring the repatriation of the refugees, as safety and dignity must be guaranteed by the state itself to ensure that nothing of this scale recurs. To do so, the Bhutanese state must reevaluate the way in which it measures growth and development to ensure that happiness is not a monopoly of a select few, but rather a fundamental right of all those who profess their nationality. 

Since its inception, Gross National Happiness has provided only cover and justification for the inhumane acts inflicted on the Lhotshampas by the Bhutanese government. In any case, it is not too late for the Bhutanese government to act before the state narrative of purity and exclusion pulls the nation into another bout of crisis. In a volatile region like South Asia, it would behoove Bhutan to learn from its neighbors. Oppression meted out upon one group does not simply vanish when the deed is done, but rather is stained into the pages of history, haunting the collective memory of an entire country in the process.

Israr Hasan

Programme Assistant
South Asia Programme

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Edited by: Diana Roy, Cameron Vaské

All views expressed in this article are solely those of the author, and do not represent the views of The International Scholar or any other organization.

Photo Credits:

• Bhutan: festival, by Adam Singer, Flickr,
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