A teachable moment amid the basic ambiguity of the relationship
By Sanjay Upadhya
Three years after it jumpstarted a peace process predicated on the slow death of the monarchy, India has come full circle in Nepal. The motions have been an odd mixture of tentativeness, calibration, symbolism and intimidation. On the surface, New Delhi’s unease with the Maoists’ motives is palpable. But that anxiety merely covers its wider alarm over the departures from the script.
For many Nepalis, former king Gyanendra’s recent month-long visit to India epitomized the turnaround. The warm reception he received in powerful Indian quarters representing the two major political formations instantly sparked speculation on the possibility of a restoration of the monarchy. Regardless of the election outcome, New Delhi will most likely revise its Nepal policy in keeping with its broader national security imperatives.
The fact that the complexities surrounding an enthronement of a baby king – complexities undoubtedly crucial given Nepal’s own turbulent history of minor monarchs – have been largely ignored perhaps underscores the implausibility of an immediate reversion to royalism. Clearly, New Delhi’s immediate objective was to intimate Nepal’s political powers that it has permanent interests as well as the willingness to uphold them.
That, quite naturally, set off a chain of events. As the most aggrieved party, it was logical for the Maoists to play up the threat of “foreign interference”. Their initial ardor – rhetorical at best – for reinvestigating the royal palace massacre dissipated amid the shrugs from the ex-royals and the half-heartedness of the other political parties. The brinkmanship over the army might have acquired greater traction in the Maoists’ favor had the former rebels not been so perilously perched on the defensive on a host of issues. The active involvement of foreign ambassadors was perceived more as a response to the Maoists’ high-handedness.
The Maoists’ “China card” has stung India far deeper than any of the palace variants of the past. Ashok K. Mehta, a retired general of the Indian Army who does not represent his government’s official thinking but nevertheless retains the attention of audiences so attuned, conceded in a recent interview with BBC Nepali Service that no Nepali government had ever veered so close to China.
Could the “China card” have acquired such high stakes only at Nepal’s initiative? Beijing has provided a clear answer through the succession of political, military and a bevy of other delegations it has been dispatching to Nepal since the collapse of the royal regime. At times, this has led to some aberrant behavior, such as the Indian foreign secretary’s sudden arrival in Kathmandu earlier this year when his counterpart was in China for previously scheduled talks. Judging from its aftermath, the Chinese proposal for a new peace and friendship treaty with Nepal seems to have emerged outside of New Delhi’s much vaunted strategic dialogue with Beijing.
Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal’s decision to call off his visit to China may have slowed Nepal’s northward tilt. With coalition partners Unified Marxist-Leninists and the Madhesi Janadhikar Forum firmly within Beijing’s hospitality zone, matters have moved beyond the Maoists.
Not An Easy Question
The question of the monarchy was not an easy one for India. From the outset, republicanism has been a central element of India’s Nepal policy deliberations, gaining prominence during moments of bilateral strains. The precise geopolitical maneuverings surrounding King Gyanendra’s February 1, 2005 takeover and the nature of New Delhi’s deliberations with Kathmandu prior to his subsequent advocacy of China’s inclusion as an observer in the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation have not come to light. In that shadow, the configuration of the ruling United Progressive Alliance (UPA) in New Delhi made republicanism quite expedient. The communists supporting the UPA government ratcheted up the pressure on Prime Minister Manmohan Singh’s government, although New Delhi and Kathmandu were still exchanging ministerial visits.
Pakistan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka were equally energetic advocates of formalizing what had already become apparent for years: China’s growing presence in South Asia. Nepal alone was entirely vulnerable to Indian displeasure. Sitaram Yechuri, whom the Chinese could count on as an ally against the US-Indian nuclear deal, symbolized the opposition to the monarchy Beijing was supposedly supporting. Prime Minister Singh and his Congress party saw the imperative of mainstreaming the Nepali Maoists in an effort to weaken the Indian Naxalite movement. The resulting policy shift acquired a momentum of its own.
After the collapse of the royal regime amid massive protests and the onset of the peace process, the monarchy had been portrayed – and perceived – as so inherently anti-Indian that even the Bharatiya Janata Party could only muster enough courage to call for the restoration of a Hindu state.
New Delhi must have pondered the ramifications of a post-monarchical order. When they began their “People’s War”, the Maoists had ranked their anti-Indianism higher than their opposition to the monarchy. Once in the mainstream, the former rebels’ leadership could be coopted through blandishments and admonitions. But what about the rank and file energized by the 40-point charter? The sovereign Nepalese people would be worthy custodians of the new republic. Would that be reassurance enough?
The fact that India’s twin-pillar theory of stability had not lost its relevance was underscored by New Delhi’s zeal for the palace’s first announcement inviting the SPA to form a government. Foreign Secretary Shyam Saran’s subsequent pullback from that commitment mirrored New Delhi’s reading of the popular mood in Kathmandu. The capriciousness of public opinion as well as the institutional amnesia of political parties could one day nullify a long-retired bureaucrat’s disavowal.
In the ebullience over the newness, the pivot of a tenuous peace process had to be addressed. Prime Minister Singh’s national security adviser openly voiced his country’s preference for the Nepali Congress in the run-up to the constituent assembly elections. Gen. Mehta, in his BBC interview, asserted far more candidly in impeccable Nepali New Delhi’s surprise at the Maoists’ success. In any case, New Delhi must have recognized that other newness of a new Nepal. Not only had too many external players entered the stage, India’s fragmented polity, with its disparate ideological and institutional interests and outlooks, had put New Delhi at some disadvantage.
Briefly, New Delhi’s public temptation to dismiss the Maoists’ “China card” as another desperate Nepalese ploy provided a cover to address its own struggles. Unlike during the monarchy, Beijing’s eggs are no longer in one basket. No one knows how many China has placed in each one. Nor do the Chinese seem inclined to reveal the extent of their ability or willingness to reallocate their eggs. And who can say for sure how many more baskets are likely to emerge.
Yet the central reality of Nepal-India relations persists. It is impossible for either country to envisage the relationship outside the framework of China. British India struggled with the dilemma before arriving at a tenuous arrangement with the Ranas. Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru supposedly overruled Sardar Ballabh Bhai Patel’s hawkish interpretation of Beijing’s long-term intentions and opted for a middle course on Nepal. But Nehru differed only in style. Former prime minister Matrika Prasad Koirala’s posthumous memoirs contain letters from Nehru that leave little doubt as to independent India’s image of democratic Nepal.
The next four decades were propitious for Nepal in terms of expanding its international identity and options. Contrary to conventional wisdom, King Mahendra’s policy of diversification contained skepticism of north and south, which impelled him to widen contacts with the Soviets and the Americans, overtures both superpowers more than reciprocated. By 1990, however, the international and regional situation had transformed so fundamentally that New Delhi could feel unrestrained in paying back for the accumulation of “snubs,” which were merely actions and approaches any sovereign and independent nation would take in normal course.
It took a while for the rest of the world to realize that the fall of the Berlin Wall precipitated premature celebrations of the “end of history”. In Nepal, the supposedly discredited monarchy became an anchor of stability for India, even in the midst of the palace massacre, until the turbulence of the morning of February 1, 2005.
Beijing’s own notion of the Sino-Nepali relationship has been guided by the quality and content of its ties with New Delhi. During moments of thaw between the two Asian giants, China tends to advise Nepal to build closer ties with India, even describing them as natural. But when tensions resurface, China characterizes the India-Nepal open border as a threat to its national security. Pushed to the brink , Beijing has tended to step back, as in 1989-1990 and 2005-2006. Whether such diffidence will persist is anybody’s guess.
A Teachable Moment
The post-monarchy dispensation has certainly been a teachable moment for India-Nepal bilateralism. A future-looking partnership cannot proceed outside – for lack of a better term – the “anti-Indianism” in Nepal. The phenomenon is for real and can no longer be called one organization’s or individual’s passport to power. No amount of Indian aid or concessions is likely to be accepted as a gesture of good faith as long as this perceptual dissonance dominates. Complementarities cannot be expected to amount to much as long as the basic nature of the relationship remains ambiguous.
Even the most hawkish Indians probably recognize that their ability to “Sikkimize” or “Bhutanize” Nepal in the traditional sense has been eroding over the last three years. Their commitment to a final solution may have not. Intervention by invoking the right to self-defense remains a growing possibility as Nepal plunges deeper into instability. Yet the costs of such a venture are mounting by the minute.
Deliberate or otherwise, Kathmandu may have widened its options through this accumulation of external interests, but it has not overcome its basic geographical constraint which leaves it susceptible to overwhelming Indian punitive pressure. Nepal’s prevailing political culture has certainly not helped fortify ourselves. As political forces take turns courting and castigating India, it has become far easier for New Delhi to undermine Nepal’s real grievances.
In the battle of perceptions, moreover, the Indians seem to be counting on Chinese overreach. For two generations of Nepalis, China has been perceived as a benign influence. What pressures Beijing may have exerted in private in the past is best known to the palace. Should China’s public affirmations to uphold Nepali sovereignty and independence become more commonplace, Nepalis may be goaded toward skepticism in the opposite direction. Admittedly, this will not be enough to counteract the far deeper distrust of the south. Growing acknowledgment of Nepal’s strategic vulnerability, however, might make Nepalis more understanding of their own interests. In this hazy zone, a new regional shadow play has begun.
A year after its abolition, the monarchy maintains some psychological presence in Nepal. A restoration of the institution would be something for the people to decide. Much would depend on republican leadership’s conduct. Should political skirmishing block a new constitution, an unpredictable range of options could begin emerging. For now, the Indians seem to have recognized the salutary effect of the ex-monarch’s presence in his former kingdom. As for recasting the bilateral relationship, there can be no roundabout way for either country.
(A version of this article appeared in the May/June 2009 issue of Global Nepali magazine)
