Bhutan's ethnic cleansing

Bill Frelick examines the plight of Bhutan's stateless ethnic Nepalese. Read also Michael Hutt's

Bhutan’s image as an otherworldly and harmonious kingdom was rocked on 20 January by coordinated bomb blasts in the capital, Thimpu, and three other locations. The bombs caused minimal damage but generated political shockwaves at a time when the Himalayan state is struggling to transform itself from an autocratic monarchy into a democracy. The second-round of Bhutan’s first-ever elections, scheduled for 24 March, will test whether its embrace of democracy will include its entire people. The answer may determine whether change ultimately will be ushered into Bhutan by the ballot or the bomb.

Although Bhutanese police initially listed Nepal-based exile groups as their top bombing suspects, their suspicions were based more on their knowledge of historical grievances than forensic evidence. A hitherto unknown group, the United Revolutionary Front of Bhutan, claimed responsibility, saying that Thimpu’s changes were cosmetic and would not benefit all Bhutanese. Though such bombings are never justified, the alarms they sound should not be ignored. This salvo should warn the government to be inclusive in its experiment with democratization. To start, it needs to address a blot on Bhutanese history that remains unresolved.

In the late 1980s Bhutanese elites regarded a growing ethnic Nepali population as a demographic and cultural threat. The government enacted discriminatory citizenship laws directed against ethnic Nepalis, that stripped about one-sixth of the population of their citizenship and paved the way for their expulsion.

After a campaign of harassment that escalated in the early 1990s, Bhutanese security forces began expelling people, first making them sign forms renouncing claims to their homes and homeland. “The army took all the people from their houses,” a young refugee told me. “As we left Bhutan, we were forced to sign the document. They snapped our photos. The man told me to smile, to show my teeth. He wanted to show that I was leaving my country willingly, happily, that I was not forced to leave.”

Today, about 108,000 of these stateless Bhutanese are living in seven refugee camps in Nepal. The Bhutanese authorities have not allowed a single refugee to return. In 2006, the US government, seeing an impasse, offered to resettle 60,000 of the Bhutanese refugees. Processing has been slow to start, and the first refugees are not likely to depart until March.

After 17 years of deadlock, the coincidental synchronization of elections in Bhutan and resettlement of Bhutanese refugees to the United States plays into the fears of some refugees, who believe the US is conspiring with Bhutan to keep ethnic Nepalis from repatriating and asserting their rights. These refugees insist that return to Bhutan is the only acceptable solution and they are increasingly intimidating refugees who want to accept the US offer - through beatings, burning huts, and death threats.

Even if the Bhutanese government were to respect their right to repatriate under international law, its treatment of the ethnic Nepalis who still live in Bhutan suggests that the basic rights of returnees cannot be guaranteed.

A Bhutanese government census in 2005 classified 13 percent of Bhutan’s current population as 'non-nationals', meaning that they are not only ineligible to vote, but are denied a wide range of other rights. An ethnic Nepali non-national living in Bhutan told Human Rights Watch, “they don’t ask me to leave, but they make me so miserable, I will be forced to leave. I have no identification, so I cannot do anything, go anywhere, get a job.”

The militants should not deny their fellow refugees the choice of going to the United States or remaining in Nepal. But a genuine choice between resettlement, integration in Nepal, or return to Bhutan can only happen if Bhutan allows refugees to return and restores their rights. Bhutan should make citizenship available to all people with legitimate claims, including the refugees who can trace their statelessness to the events of the early 1990s.

If Bhutan aspires to be truly democratic, it should choose a path of reconciliation with the disenfranchised ethnic Nepalese inside and outside its borders. If instead it deliberately excludes many of its people, it may strengthen the hand of the militants and discover that simply holding elections will bring neither real democracy nor peace.

Bill Frelick is Refugee Policy director at Human Rights Watch and researched and edited Last Hope: The Need for Durable Solutions for Bhutanese Refugees in Nepal and India.
Michael Frith for New Statesman.
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Kezia Dugdale on the decline of Scottish Labour: “Nobody knew what we were for”

The Lothian MSP has just taken on the toughest job in politics – leading Scottish Labour against the SNP.

Coming in to Edinburgh on the airport shuttle bus, you pass the city’s zoo, festooned with ­posters for its star attractions, Tian Tian and Yang Guang. The old joke used to be that there were more pandas in Scotland than Tory MPs. Since the early hours of 8 May, however, that axiom applies to ­Labour and the Liberal Democrats, too.

How can Labour recover from the loss of 40 of its Scottish seats? The task falls to Kezia Dugdale, the 33-year-old elected on 15 August as the sixth leader of Scottish Labour in eight years. In May, she was at a TV studio when the general election exit poll was announced and neither she, the Scottish Tory leader Ruth Davidson, nor the Lib Dems’ Willie Rennie could believe it. But by the time she reached Labour’s headquarters on Bath Street in Glasgow, and watched a five-figure majority in Rutherglen and Hamilton West get swept away, she knew the party had suffered a wipeout. “I watched Jim Murphy lose his seat and he joined us not too long after that, and then Brian Roy [Scottish Labour’s general secretary], watched his dad lose his seat,” she tells me. “The atmosphere was just deathly quiet.”

Small wonder the scene was funereal. Labour once dominated Scottish politics effortlessly – in fact, the effortlessness may have been the problem, because the party became complacent and its electoral machine was rusty with underuse. Now, Labour gets kicking after kicking. On 14 August there were swings to the SNP of over 20 per cent in council by-elections in Falkirk and in Wishaw, Lanarkshire. Similar swings were recorded earlier in the month in Glasgow and last month in Aberdeen.

At this point, the drubbing Labour is receiving reminds me of that clip from The Simpsons where a child shouts: “Stop! Stop! He’s already dead!” The party has been routed at Westminster and it seems likely to lose all its constituency MSPs at next year’s Holyrood elections, too. Its survival there would then depend on the vagaries of the D’Hondt system, which will award Labour a few dozen list MSPs, based on its total vote share. (The SNP could do so well in some constituencies that it won’t get topped up with any list MSPs.)

What can Kezia Dugdale do to arrest the party’s decline? It feels as though everyone I speak to is more dejected than the last. “The crucial thing is to regain permission to be heard,” says David Torrance, the biographer of Alex Salmond and Nicola Sturgeon. “That was lost during the referendum debate and wasn’t regained during the election.” Stephen Daisley, STV’s digital political correspondent, adds: “Labour lacks a coherent narrative. A stray cat could tell you what the SNP stands for: protecting Scotland from wicked Westminster. Put two Labour supporters in a room – more and more of an ask in Scotland – and you’ll get three opinions on what the party’s message is.”

According to Dugdale, Willie Rennie often runs up Arthur’s Seat and back at lunchtime, such is the proximity of the old peak to the Scottish Parliament. Her own uphill struggle is no less daunting. When I ask her how far back Labour’s problems go, she laughs: “We’re only here for an hour!” She says that “2007 was the warning sign, because we shouldn’t have lost that . . . Some people might even say 2003 because we started to look like caretakers.”

She says the blame for the party’s present predicament should not fall on any individual or policy, but does criticise the 2015 manifesto. “There were 160 different policies in our manifesto in Scotland . . . 160 policies and nobody knew what we were for.” The road back to credibility lies in outlining the ethos behind Scottish Labour. As she puts it: “What we did was say, ‘This is what we’re going to do with policies . . .’ Barely if ever did we tell people why.”

Here, Dugdale faces a huge disadvantage against the SNP leadership, which has a simple answer to most questions: more powers for Scotland. “What is galling for Scottish Labour is that attempts to hold ministers to account are branded unpatriotic,” Daisley says. “‘Stop talking down Scotland’ is the nationalists’ favourite response. The challenge for Labour is that Scottish voters might now be voting on their national ambitions rather than policy. Scottish Labour is talking about service delivery. The SNP is waving a flag. Flags always win.”

The election of Jeremy Corbyn as Labour’s leader in Westminster may pose an intriguing problem for the SNP, which ran in May on an anti-austerity platform (although the IFS found its manifesto was more fiscally conservative than Labour’s). Many former Scottish Labour supporters say they now back the SNP because of that stance. But if Labour is also anti-austerity, will any of those voters come back? “The idea a Corbyn-led Labour Party can help it recover in Scotland is, I am afraid, for the birds,” the Spectator’s Alex Massie wrote on Twitter recently. Another centre-right commentator told me: “It’ll be like Canada, post-referendum. The SNP are like the Bloc Québécois; people will vote for them to represent Scotland’s interests at Westminster.”

The SNP now also has the advantage of the staff and infrastructure that come with 56 Westminster MPs. “We’ve gone from 41 to one, against a juggernaut of 56 whose raison d’être is to get an independent Scotland,” says Labour’s only remaining MP in Scotland, Ian Murray. He feels the press is hostile, too, and argues that “some of the media in Scotland would rather continue to attack Labour than hold the SNP or Tory government to account”. He must surely be thinking of the National, a bruisingly partisan publication that specialises in grotesque photoshopped cover pictures. Recent highlights include Boris Johnson as the Joker and Tim Farron as Frankenstein.

I ask Dugdale how she plans to cope with abuse on social media. “I’ve never really let it affect me, because I just feel sorry for the people who live on the internet in the middle of the night,” she says. “The most powerful button in the world is the mute button.” It helps that her close friends work in politics. “I can’t just go home at 6pm and drink a bottle of wine. Sometimes I have to do things at the last minute. Sometimes, despite making plans, you have to cancel. Normal people don’t think that’s cool.”

She also gets occasional support from the other two main party leaders, Sturgeon of the SNP and the Tories’ Davidson. Having three women at the top of Scottish politics does not make things “less aggressive, just different. It’s undoubtedly different. There’s a degree of camaraderie between the three of us.” That said, she is unimpressed by the others’ criticisms of my New Statesman piece on childlessness in politics. “They saw the outrage and went with it. In my gut, I don’t think either of them had read the full article before they commented on the front cover . . . Ruth Davidson is not a feminist and Nicola Sturgeon is a late convert, in my view.”

Dugdale has been involved in politics for only a decade. She is not from a political family, though her father Jeff, once a Tory supporter, is now an SNP member who likes to wind his daughter up on Twitter. She joined Labour when, after graduating in law, she found herself unemployed and wondering what to do with her life. “I had no great drive to do law other than watching a lot of Ally McBeal,” she says now. “I thought that everyone who did law just had unisex loos, went to the piano bar at night and spent their entire life in the courtroom.”

Instead, she ended up, aged 23, “on the sofa in our pyjamas watching Trisha” with a flatmate who was a member of the Labour Party and encouraged her to get involved in politics. She found that she was a good election agent, and in 2011 she acted as a key seat organiser with a place on the regional list. “I was expecting to wake up the day after the 2011 election unemployed, with a pretty decent redundancy package and a summer to work out what I was going to do with the rest of my life. I woke up as an MSP.”

She knows that many observers believe there is no way back for Scottish Labour. Her hopes rest on a few calculations: the first is that the SNP leadership (with the exception of Salmond) doesn’t want to push for a second referendum too soon, yet its activists might try to get it into the 2016 manifesto. “It’s an incredibly difficult call for Nicola Sturgeon, because it’s what her 100,000 party members want but it’s not what the country wants,” Dugdale says. “We were told this was a once-in-a-lifetime, once-in-a-generation opportunity. I was 33 when they told me that, and I’m still 33 and they’re changing the rules.”

The second is that the SNP has now governed Scotland for eight years, four of those with a majority, and at some point Scottish voters might treat them as incumbents rather than insurgents. As Murray puts it: “What gives me a little bit of hope for the 2016 election is that they’re going to have to start answering for their own pretty abysmal record.” He thinks that grumbles about public services (the police, the NHS, the justice system) might finally boil over; Dugdale’s own focus will be on education. She says this policy area is “integral to battling poverty and inequality in all its forms”, and it can’t hurt that Scotland’s primary schools are full of children who have never known anything other than SNP rule.

Intelligent, funny, hard-working, well-liked and – well, normal (her trashy telly ­anecdotes were clearly real, rather than focus-grouped to make her sound “authentic”), Kezia Dugdale is an impressive politician. But she is under no illusions about how hard her job will be. As she puts it: “There were lots of people saying, ‘Don’t stand, because you’ll have a crap election in 2016, it’s inevitable, and then they’ll have your head and that’ll be you done.’”

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

This article first appeared in the 20 August 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Corbyn wars