Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Appeasement, Either Way

Any successor government would find itself preoccupied with placating the Maoists

By Sanjay Upadhya
True to tradition, the political class has begun plotting an alternative to the Maoist-led government six months after it rose to power. As usual, the opposition – which, not so bizarrely, includes elements within the ruling coalition – claims the future of the country is at stake. As he has always done when not in the hot seat, Nepali Congress President Girija Prasad Koirala is leading the charge. Other leaders across the ideological spectrum are blowing hot and cold on the wisdom of dislodging the Maoists based on their own partisan – and factional – interests.
On the surface, the urgency to act is palpable. The Maoists have flouted the basic commitments they had signed on to as part of the peace process. Once their interpretation of the series of accords laying down the roadmap to a new Nepal stopped resembling the texts, the former rebels gleefully started calling for a renegotiation of the 12-point agreement. When admonition begets that kind of defiance, the conventional wisdom goes, an alliance of democrats becomes imperative. The head of the country’s largest democratic party, regardless of age or interest, could not have remained indifferent.
During his last stint as premier, Koirala was something of an anomaly. He bowed over backwards with the agility of a master contortionist to appease the Maoists every step of the way, alienating many in his own party. In the name of advancing the peace process, he was prepared to pay any price to keep the former rebels onboard. It looked like the longest serving premier of the 1990-2002 experiment was expiating for its collapse. During moments of detachment, the oxygen mask came in handy for Koirala. At other times, his cryptic comments on the nature – and future – of the monarchy eased the way.
It was not unnatural for Koirala, as interim head of state, to see himself as the first president of Nepal. The former rebels, for their part, lavished praise on him. Still, it is hard to believe that such a seasoned veteran could have been so oblivious to the true intentions of the Maoists. Wounded pride can be ruled out as the root cause of his current disenchantment. Of course, hatred of the monarchy may have temporarily blindsided Koirala. But an interim period of two years was more than sufficient for any primary member of the Nepali Congress to make an educated assessment of the party’s prospects in an environment where the Maoists owned the republican agenda.
It is tempting, therefore, to see in Koirala’s anti-Maoist rants self-indictment of his own performance as interim premier. Yet obsession with his flaws is something best left for more tranquil times. Koirala may not be a credible custodian of democracy, but he is its most credible campaigner. If someone who started out as an agitator against the Ranas continues to be Nepal’s last hope for freedom almost six decades later, it surely says more about the nation than the individual.

Villains Galore
In our eternal search for villains, the Maoists were always on the weakest ground. During the campaign to oust the royal regime, it was convenient for the agitating parties and people to praise the Maoists for having raised arms in support of the masses. The Maoists basked in the adulation but were careful not to be carried away. They knew their battles would not end with the fall of the monarchy. The gruesome record of violence was always going to be an albatross on the Maoists. Their best hope lay in eroding the credibility with which their tactical allies could turn against them. As the Maoists kept describing war and peace as interchangeable elements of the revolution, the faith of the followers mattered more than the sneers of the skeptics.
When they faced the first sustained challenge in the form of the Gaur carnage, the Maoists exercised remarkable restraint. Was this a sign of weakness or a profession of their commitment to peaceful change? As the question hung in the air, the former insurgents expanded their power of obfuscation. Months before the anti-Chinese protests began in Kathmandu last year, the Young Communist League (YCL) warned Tibetans against abusing Nepalese soil. Yet when the protests began, the Maoists virtually disappeared from the scene. By this time, persuading Washington to withdraw the terror tag had become more important and expedient, especially when the Nepali Congress and the UML were ready to clamp down on the protests.
During the election campaign, the Nepali Congress was gloating over its success in bringing the Maoists to the mainstream and calculating the extent of the impending electoral reward. The CPN-UML was busy mocking Maoist supremo Pushpa Kamal Dahal as a “wall” president. Where the Maoists really excelled was not in cultivating the royalist vote but in courting former U.S. president Jimmy Carter. Mindful of his stature as the world’s most prominent peacemaker, our ex-rebels watched how Carter had associated with far more unsavory organizations around the world. Before their rivals could challenge the Maoists’ triumph, Carter certified the election as free and fair. Not even the Nepali Congress dared contradict the chief international observer.

Price of Power
Power, to be sure, has come at a heavy price for the Maoists. Dahal’s public acknowledgment of how different leading is from rebelling was only the beginning of a steep learning curve. Internally, malcontents of every stripe could enter the tent of the ideologically disgruntled to put pressure on the leadership. That mouthful of appellations called the People’s Federal Democratic National Republic was an outcome of internal appeasement. The compulsion of having to play to disparate constituencies has led Dahal to make outrageous statements. The ideological rigidity of the “people’s war” may have become untenable in the mainstream politics. But there is that hard strain of a hazy nationalism that allows people like Mohan Baidya and Chandra Prakash Gajurel to remind the faithful of the incompleteness of the revolution.
The Maoists would love to draw more people from the right and left to broaden a communist/nationalist front. The process, which seemed to have begun with the entry of some ex-royalists, progressed with the unification with the CPN-Unity Center. But lately the Unified Maoists have been hemorrhaging far worse, Matrika Yadav’s revolt being just an example.
With every new threat to their survival in power, the Maoists have become increasingly defiant. For quite some time, they have been claiming a veto on the new constitution. Their predilection for ruling through ordinances has confirmed the worst fears of their detractors. The ex-rebels continue to pack important state organizations with loyalists, while forming new ones in the non-government sector. Should pressures beyond his control become too burdensome, Prime Minister Dahal can always look the Nepalese people straight in the eye and resign, citing his refusal to make anti-national compromises. For a nation struggling for a collective identity, nationalism sure has a curious appeal.
What after Dahal’s ouster? It is tempting to believe that the Maoists have lost the initiative through their nonperformance. Their capitulation on the issue of the Pashupati bhattas and vacillation in the standoff with the Nepal Army are considered emblematic of their emaciation. Yet the Maoists are not the traditional adversary. Through the YCL and other avatars in the mainstream, the Maoists’ capacity to launch an urban revolt may not be so inconsistent with their bluster. Therein lies the supreme dilemma. Cornering the Maoists would merely hasten the state capture the opposition says it wants to forestall. Allowing them to retain power and dispense patronage, in a wider effort at moderation, smacks of appeasement. But the more important question is whether the other parties have the credibility and control to sustain a successor government.
The Maoists know how to have it both ways. They prospered on the perception that they were run by the palace. Yet without their participation, the monarchy would not have fallen. When the time came to lavish praise on Koirala, someone they had clubbed together with the former monarch in the aftermath of the Narayanhity massacre, they were more than generous. The Maoists started their rebellion on a charter that began with anti-Indian demands. Yet they took full advantage of Indian soil and perhaps official succor. They derided the Chinese leadership as deviants and endured Beijing’s wrath, but swiftly became its staunchest allies. After all, who can say for sure that Matrika Yadav’s revolt is not a carefully staged diversionary tactic? Or that the United Maoists lack the ability to profit from even the faintest of such perceptions?
For the former rebels, the ends have always justified the means. In full public glare, subterfuge is likely to acquire far greater flexibility and lethality. The Maoists have articulated their destination with chilling clarity even before laying the trajectory. The corollary can only mean an abundance of permutations and combinations. Their official stand still incorporates everything from supporting absolute monarchy (if the Nepalese people so desire) to fighting Indian troops in a final war of national liberation. When they bombard different people with different messages, the onus clearly falls on the listener.
Then there is that eternal truth of politics, which in Nepal’s case has had far greater relevance. Every government is perceived as being worse than the last. Juxtapose that with the perpetual effort any successor government would have to put in to placate the Maoists. No matter how you look at it, it is hard to avoid the sight of appeasement.

(A version of this article appeared in the March/April 2009 issue of Global Nepali magazine)