The “orange-clad guardians of peace” are tackling youth unemployment, inspiring hope, and redefining happiness in the Himalayan kingdom.
Before I visited Bhutan, I joked that I was determined to find an unhappy Bhutanese. I’ve long been fascinated by the tiny Buddhist kingdom tucked between China and India. Since 2008, the country has officially tracked Gross National Happiness as its national metric, a kind of spiritual counterweight to capitalism. The spin made it sound like the population of Bhutan were a kind of East Asian von Trapps, prancing around the Himalayas while wrangling yaks.
Was this really possible? In a word: No.
And yes.
Bhutan’s status as one of the happiest places on earth has slowly deteriorated. In 2019, the last time Bhutan appeared in Oxford University’s World Happiness Report, it ranked 95 out of 156 countries, down from 84 five years earlier. (Finland has taken top honor for the last eight years.)
I didn’t realize that in the beautiful country of fluttering prayer flags and winding mountain roads, where stray dogs nap in the sun and maroon-clad monks scroll Instagram under Bodhi trees, there was so much despair.
Which brings me to Mani Raj Rai, my 31-year-old tour guide, who was among the dejected class. “We’re human,” he told me. “Of course we get unhappy.”
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I would never have known, at least not at first glance. Mani was one of the most joyful people I’ve ever met. Fluent in English, obsessed with John Denver, he spent our mountain hikes belting “Take Me Home, Country Roads” at high altitude. He spoke about gratitude and kindness, radiating an infectious energy. But it wasn’t always so.
Mani grew up in a village outside Paro, one of Bhutan’s two larger cities and home to the Taktsang Lhakhang monastery (also known as the Tiger’s Nest). He felt aimless and adrift. “I had no direction,” he said. “Life had no meaning.” He struggled with drugs, which are illegal in the country, and did a few stints in jail.
In 2016, Mani joined the De-Suung Integrated Training program, a kind of state-run volunteer corps created by the country’s king, Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck, in 2011.
“I saw them volunteering, which inspired me to join their ranks,” said Mani. “During wildfires, accidents, disasters, and spiritual or grand religious events, they were always there, offering their services. Witnessing their dedication and selflessness motivated me to become a DeSuup myself.”
DeSuup translates to “guardian of peace” in Donghka, Bhutan’s national language. In their orange uniforms, you might wonder why so many prison inmates roam so freely. But De-Suups are the antithesis of criminals.
“We’re human. Of course we get unhappy.”
Essentially, De-Suups are Bhutan’s version of civic superheroes—volunteers trained in basic military tactics and deployed to handle everything from natural disasters to COVID-19 checkpoints. Picture thousands of young people in bright orange uniforms, helping direct traffic, manage crowd control, dig irrigation canals, and fight forest fires. During the pandemic, nearly 18,000 De-Suups deployed to deliver food, administer vaccines, and help enforce rules. When Ed Sheeran played in the country this past January—the first time a Western artist had ever performed there—it was the De-Suups who provided security.
Mani’s eyes gleamed when he described his feelings the first time he put on the tangerine-colored get-up. Finally, he had a purpose. An identity. “It’s a lovely feeling being a De-Suup,” he said. “It’s so satisfying that you feel like you’re contributing and giving back to the community.”
Like other De-Suups, Mani took his job seriously. One afternoon, we drove around Paro and spotted smoke wafting overhead. Fire. Mani could barely wait to whip off his gho and slip on his De-Suup attire. Alas, by the time he arrived on the scene, the fire had already been contained.
“The other De-Suups already put it out,” he said, his face creased with disappointment. He wanted to feel useful. Instead, he was stuck with me.
1. Bhutan is a tiny, remote kingdom nestling in the Himalayas between its powerful neighbors, India and China. Almost completely cut off for centuries, Bhutan has tried to let in aspects of outside work while fiercely guarding its ancient tradition. It only began to open up to outsiders in the 1970s. Here, several young Bhutanese men gather near shops dressed in traditional “gho”, a knee-length robe tied at the waist by a cloth belt known as the kera.Deborah Leitner/iStock; 2. High up in the Himalayas, Bhutan is a breathtaking destination with its epic mountainside monasteries and palaces, streets, landscapes, landmarks and local cuisine. Pictured is Tiger’s Nest Monastery.Rajeev Rajagopalan/iStock
De-Suups 2.0
Despite the pride De-Suups feel with their responsibilities, Bhutan’s challenges remained, especially for young people. A 2020 report in The International Journal for the Advancement of Counselling found that young people and young adults comprised 69 percent of suicides in Bhutan. Something had to be done.
So about a year later, the King launched the DeSuung Skilling Programme (DSP), which provides young people with free training in 158 disciplines.
“Let us empower our people with skills, not just degrees,” he said in his public address when he launched DSP.
About 70 percent of the students are unemployed youth. Courses, which last four to 12 weeks, include everything from robotics to hairdressing, Korean cooking, cybersecurity, agriculture, making, and fashion design. Instructors come from around the world; the government covers their flights, visas, accommodation, and stipends.
“The idea is to spark discovery, sharpen focus, and provide Bhutanese youth with tangible pathways to meaningful, well-paying jobs,” said Carissa Nimah, chief marketing officer for Bhutan’s Department of Tourism. “It’s almost like an extended gap year, but they acquire skills to actually go into the workforce.” The King himself has visited the eight residential centers scattered throughout the country.
Exporting Hope
The DSP is designed to meet both regional and international accreditation, and graduates are connected to internships, business incubation support, and collateral-free startup loans. So far, more than 8,500 people of all ages have gone through the program.
Mani joined DSP in 2019 to learn woodworking, just a little something to augment his guiding gigs.
“My father worked with wood, and I always had this attachment,” he said. “I used to wonder, what kind of mind builds a table like this? Now I know. Now I can do it too.”
Of course, not everyone who completes the training gets a full-time gig. Bhutan’s economy is still small, and job creation is a long game. But the country seems to be doing something right. In December 2023, Bhutan graduated from the UN’s Least Developed Country list and officially became a Developing Country—only the seventh country to do so in fifty years. And as of the first quarter of 2025, the unemployment rate among 15 to 24-year-olds was just 17.1 percent, down from 20.6 percent in 2020.
Ultimately, Bhutan is hoping to franchise the DSP model so other countries can adopt it, positioning Bhutan as a global thought leader in civic engagement and youth empowerment.
“It’s not just about jobs,” said Nimah. “It’s about dignity and hope.”
And that translates into happiness.
Bhutan Wants You!
The De-Suung Skilling Programme (DSP) is seeking international trainers in a range of sectors: culinary arts, construction, hospitality, wellness, digital marketing, agriculture, and creative industries. Butchers and woodworking teachers are especially in demand. Applicants must be fluent in English.
Trainers receive round-trip airfare, free housing, visas, and small stipends. For more information, visit here.
