By Sanjay Upadhya
September 16, 2007
The Nepali Congress’ headlong plunge into republicanism has spawned some unruly ripples. Krishna Prasad Bhattarai emerged from seclusion to disapprove of the decision. He underscored his displeasure by visiting Crown Prince Paras in the hospital. This dismantling of the ruling alliance’s sustained boycott of the monarchy may have been symbolic, but it was no less significant.
Bhattarai’s stand was immediately ridiculed as a monumental irrelevance. One-time loyalists suddenly saw the sole surviving founding member of the Nepali Congress as a symbol of senility. They resurrected the dead, too. B.P. Koirala’s plea for reconciliation between democrats and the palace had lost its validity, the refrain went. Were B.P. alive, prominent Nepali Congress thinker Pradip Giri asserted, Nepal would have become a republic four years ago. What was more fascinating here was that so many quarters across the political spectrum spent so many sentences on exemplifying an irrelevance.
Whether Bhattarai’s view represented those of the more reticent Nepali Congress members in both factions is unclear. What it does show is that there are still those who see the party’s survival closely tethered to the monarchy’s.
Across the board, the euphoria did not last long among republicans. In retrospect, what the Nepali Congress leadership did was refer the republican agenda to its general convention. The impression is that the body would eventually rubber stamp the decision. Yet other parties do not seem so sanguine. Maoist chairman Prachanda, among others, has pondered in some detail over whether the Nepali Congress would go into the constituent assembly elections with a republican agenda and then vote for the retention of the monarchy.
So far, Prime Minister Koirala has adroitly played off the Maoists and monarchy against each other in an effort to maintain a tenuous peace. That strategy may be running its course. The Maoists have been able to push their 22 preconditions for the constituent assembly elections primarily on the strength of the second amendment to the interim statute.
The eight parties in power had empowered the interim legislature to abolish the monarchy if the palace were found to be obstructing the polls. The argument that the Maoists are somehow shifting the goalposts is, therefore, specious. The only way the other constituents in power can now rebut the ex-rebels is by certifying that the palace has done no such thing – something the maligned Bhattarai seemed to have grasped.
Koirala is keeping his principal card – if he has one, that is – close to his chest. Rooting for the monarchy may be the best route for daughter Sujata to win the succession struggle in the party and perpetuate the Koirala dynasty. The premier may have helped her by asserting that the country’s independence was at stake.
Having discharged the duties – spiritual as well as secular – of head of state over the months, Koirala may now covet the real job. But, surely, he knows that becoming the first president of Nepal would require much more than Prachanda’s consent. The ruling parties would need to persuade internal and external constituencies of their ability to sustain a republic. And reconciling India’s aspirations for a democratic Nepal with China’s desire for a stable one is the easy part.
The postponement of the constituent assembly elections was a thinly guised affirmation of Nepal’s failure to attain political equilibrium. If the elections are delayed once more, it will be because of this factor. It is hardly surprising, therefore, that the government’s agreements with the Madhesi Janadhikar Forum and Chure-Bhawar Ekta Samaj have been unable to lift the national mood.
No one – within the country or outside – wants to be blamed for derailing the tenuous peace process. Yet everyone is aware of another fragility: Koirala’s age and ailments. Deep inside, the premier probably considers himself no less vulnerable to the S slur than Bhattarai.
