Nepal: Lies, Damned Lies And Theatrics
By Krishna Singh Bam
In the intensifying struggle for supremacy in Nepal, there have been putrefying displays of passion. Few have been as
revolting as those related to the three-month truce announced by the Maoist rebels earlier this month.
A government professing an abiding commitment to peace stubbornly refuses to reciprocate the rebels' overtures. At least
it has the excuse of remaining unconvinced by their peace protestations.
The real stench comes from the seven-party mainstream alliance, which considers the royal regime illegal. Leaders and
supporters are risking their lives and limbs on the streets to end what they consider an abomination. But things go a
little too far when they start criticizing the royal regime for not declaring its own ceasefire. What is the point of
accusing as irresponsible a government you refuse to recognize?
The two main parties in the mainstream – the Nepali Congress and the Unified Marxist-Leninists – have made much about
their having abandoned their explicit support for the monarchy. This has brought them a significant step closer to the
Maoists' republican agenda. The opposition parties should have pressed ahead with substantive talks with the rebels on
remaking the Nepalese state.
But the Nepali Congress' new general secretary, Ram Chandra Poudel, insists that the revival of the House of
Representatives remains very much the centerpiece of the mainstream agenda. That stands in direct conflict with the
Maoist posture. So much for shared commitment.
That legislature -- dissolved amid much political rancor in 2002 – would long have completed its natural five-year life
even if Nepal's last elected prime minister, Sher Bahadur Deuba, had been more judicious in exercising his prerogative.
Mock sessions have been held in the name of reviving the real thing.
It took the palace's dismissal of Deuba a second time for the parties to stop asking the king to restore the body. Now
the Supreme Court is hearing petitions on the matter. Here, too, the opposition's sleight of mind is apparent.
The mainstream parties considered the appointment of the new chief justice, Dilip Kumar Poudel, just another link in the
palace's continuing chain of illegitimate actions. Since he announced he would revisit the petitions, however, Poudel
has won the adulation of many. How long such praise continues would depend on the nature of the court's verdict.
The Maoists, who are firmly against the restoration of a house they never recognized, seem to have sunk deeper into
their narcissism. After scuttling King Gyanendra's United Nations visit, they joined the mainstream in celebrating their
triumph. The royal snub now appears too stinging to bear.
King Gyanendra has laid down a challenge to the insurgents: prove your commitment to a durable peace. Not an
unreasonable demand, considering that the rebels broke off from two previous peace processes after using the hiatus to
rearm and regroup.
Rebel supremo Prachanda, who insisted that his latest truce was aimed at bolstering the mainstream parties campaigning
for full democracy, has his priorities wrong. He should have started confidence-building measures with opposition
leaders before going on a media offensive over the prospects of talks with the royal regime. Specifically, the
rebel-in-chief should have known the principal pitfall of a three-month truce: it allows the adversary to simply wait it
out.
You can argue endlessly over its wisdom, but King Gyanendra has made his vision for Nepal amply clear. Gone were the
days when the king could not see, hear and speak, he said after ascending the throne four years ago. Over the last three
years, he has proved just that. If the mainstream parties and the Maoists believe the monarchy is Nepal's real problem,
they should stop preaching to the choir and extend their gaze to the congregation.
The parties in the anti-palace alliance won 85 percent of the popular vote, on a turnout of 65 percent. This amounted to
some 7.25 million votes. Even if a tenth of those voters today were to reassert their decision then as eternal -- which
many leaders seem to imply -- that represent at least 725,000 men and women.
If a tenth of those were to come out in support of the democracy movement in Kathmandu each day, we would have had
crowds of 72,500 defying prohibitory orders. What we see are the same few thousand faces protesting alternately on
behalf of political parties and civil society. Clearly, it would take much more than empty posturing to force King
Gyanendra to abandon his understanding of Cicero's dictum that the safety of the people is the highest law.
Why is the monarch so convinced of his righteousness? Perhaps the palace has learned its lessons well between 1990 and
2002. A constitutional monarch that had stepped out of active politics should have ceased to be the subject of endless
calumny. But not so under Nepal's multiparty leaders.
The throne was either a symbol of stability or the source of instability, depending on which side of the issue you were
on. Those who spent most of the last 15 years glorifying the current constitution as a tripartite compromise failed to
take in the palace as a full partner.
Four years after his murder in a palace shootout, King Birendra continues to be cited by many as a model constitutional
monarch. Not entirely so when he was alive. A royal interview with a Kathmandu weekly on the circumstances leading to
the restoration of multiparty democracy following three decades of non-party rule would have been a crowning moment for
Nepal's emerging free press. But the leader of the 1990 democracy movement, Ganesh Man Singh, saw the king's comments as
a plot of undermine democracy.
The monarch then chose to leave politics to the professionals. He was accused of trying to subvert democracy through
crass indifference. When the Maoist insurgency began spreading, King Birendra started becoming more assertive in
grilling the government. The palace was once again accused of seeking to undermine democracy.
As King Birendra's last prime minister, Girija Prasad Koirala described growing public unrest on the streets of the
capital as a clear manifestation of popular ire against royal political ambitions.
Damned if you do and damned if you don't. Would today's critics have remained quiet if King Gyanendra had not dismissed
the Deuba government and assumed full executive powers on February 1?
ENDS