Tuesday, September 15, 2009

National Notions

Can a national government really live up to its name?

By Sanjay Upadhya
After the perilous posturing precipitated by the fall of the Maoist-led government, there is a palpable acknowledgment of the urgency of rebuilding consensus. While this certainly bodes well for the beleaguered peace process, the recognition is more of a reaction to the growing international clamor for ending the dangerous drift than a direct response to the gravity of the situation.
The Indian government, as the prime facilitator of the peace, has become increasingly apprehensive in public over the fraying of consensus, a sentiment broadly shared by other key governments. The Carter Center, one of the international nongovernmental institutions with a longstanding role in the process, has echoed the anxiety of the wider global community. United Nations Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon has stepped forth with incredible frankness on the roadblocks that have emerged.
With less than a year remaining for the parties to draft and promulgate the new constitution – the culmination of a peace process inaugurated amid much optimism – the all-round apprehension is entirely reasonable. A popularly drafted constitution remains Nepal’s best hope of acquiring the political stability central to the sustenance of a ‘new’ Nepal. Having averaged one basic law per decade, Nepalis have paid a heavy cumulative price for political improvisation.
Previous calls for a broader democratic alliance or a united communist front to bolster the peace process resonated more as threats from competing ends of the ideological spectrum. The current predilection of the principal political parties for a national or consensus government represents a refreshing change in the tenor of the national conversation.

Flawed Process
Still, the unpleasantness of our reality must be confronted. While consensus and cooperation have become the operative word across the ideological spectrum, the key protagonists are digging in their heels deeper. Each instance of Maoist obstructionism has prompted a degree of disdain from the Nepali Congress and the Unified Marxist-Leninists (UML), which, in turn, has ratcheted up tensions. Every utterance in favor of amity is invariably accompanied by the word ‘accident’.
Part of the reason is that the peace process remains deeply flawed. After the collapse of royal rule, the Nepali Congress, and, specifically, then-prime minister Girija Prasad Koirala, made all-out efforts to accede to every demand the Maoists made. Since it was crucial to keep the Maoists tied deep into the process, ambiguities and outright prevarications underpinned what essentially became periodic adjustments of disagreements. The goal posts were shifted every step of the way, but the players ultimately were able to accept the rules.
Once the Maoists scored an upset electoral triumph, the peace process entered the next phase. With the monarchy out of the way, the political parties were generally expected to turn against one other. But the rivalries have turned far worse than repulsive. The Nepali Congress and the UML still seem incapable of confronting the central fact that the Maoists emerged as the largest party in largely free and fair elections. The Maoists, for their part, have been flaunting their striking albeit uncertain mandate as almost a divine right to rule.
The political class’s inability to figure out who nudged whom along the path toward a ‘new’ Nepal has been troubling enough. The geopolitical maneuverings precipitated by the vacuum left behind by the monarchy have exacerbated matters. The palace, for all the internal calumnies it drew, at least enjoyed enough confidence of the principal external stakeholders to guarantee stability on that vital front.
Once in power, the Maoists overplayed their hand by seeking to shift Nepal’s geopolitical locus northward to the point of utter defiance. Clearly, this, more than anything else, hastened their fall from power. If not the sacking and subsequent reinstatement of the chief of the army staff, then some other controversy would have exposed the impossible strains that government straddled.
The precise circumstances surrounding the resignation of prime minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal remain in the province of speculation. The hubbub over the fall of the mighty ex-rebels eclipsed another pernicious oddity: the preponderance of people defeated in the elections in the new cabinet in terms of stature and influence. The idea of fostering peace at all costs, regardless of its nobility, will exact its own price. Each blow the credibility of the political process receives will have consequences far beyond the vicinity of the protagonists.
The Maoists, once more, have been the first to detect room for maneuver here. There is little to suggest any popular nostalgia for the ex-rebels’ nine-month rule. They are thus relying on popular disenchantment with the current administration. Having failed in their crusade for “civilian supremacy”, the Maoists made a tactical shift in demanding a national government under their leadership. Appeasing the base through the revolt option contradicts the ex-rebels’ professed commitment to democracy. But, then, the Maoists have prospered on their longstanding ability to juggle such stark contradictions.
In the name of promoting nationalism, the Maoists have carefully positioned themselves for a place in the government. By relaxing their stalling tactics in the constituent assembly, they have exhibited some signs of flexibility. As the Nepali Congress and the UML rejoice in what they see as the Maoists’ capitulation after months of swagger, the ex-rebels insist on their right to lead the government. Their ability to do so would depend more on the internal dynamics of the current coalition partners. Should the Maoists achieve their objective, it would merely place them in a wider berth of parties. Logically, this would make consensus on any subject all that more difficult. How they would expect to fare any better than their last stint in power does not seem to have baffled them.
For now, the ex-rebels have zeroed in on their rivals. The Maoists are relishing the influx of cadres from the UML, almost oblivious to the reality that they themselves are hemorrhaging to rival factions. The deep rifts within the UML seem too delicious an opportunity for the Maoists to ignore. Prime Minister Madhav Kumar Nepal, for his part, has been more outspoken about the lack of cooperation from the UML than from the ex-rebels.
The Nepali Congress, too, is in a state of malaise. Koirala’s decision to send daughter Sujata as the leader of the party’s team in the cabinet and Ram Chandra Poudel’s defeat of Sher Bahadur Deuba in the parliamentary party elections, among other things, have set off a realignment process inherently different from the one that had characterized much of the post-1990 Nepali Congress. How events actually play out would become clearer after further spasms. The Maoists are no doubt keen to exploit rifts across the board. By accusing the Nepali Congress and the UML of having engineered the split in the Madhesi Janadhikar Forum (MJF), the ex-rebels have cleverly picked sides in an organization that did much to erode its base in the Terai.

Stark Truth
Amid all this gloom, the central truth of our political evolution has come out starker. Every political turn has been touted as a triumph but has left the country progressively weaker. The triumph of the people has been hailed, only to pave the way for recognition that change has been incomplete. Yet internally, in our effort to elaborate our group grievances, there is a real danger of unleashing a process of fragmentation in perpetuity. Whether a constellation of microstates can in any way sustain itself between our two giant neighbors is a concern that seems to have worried them more than us.
Our northern neighbor enjoys an ethnic homogeneity that allows for conformity on issues of national interest regardless of the polity in existence. To the south, a remarkably diverse array of states has been able to craft a union rooted in consensual national objectives and policies. The recent upsurge in the fiery rhetoric between the two confident giants can only bode ill for a country so precariously perched in the middle. The imponderables presented by farther flung powers – both in their official and non-government manifestations – has certainly complicated our internal dynamics.
As for the current flux, there is a clear divergence in the perceptions and expectation from peace process inside the country and outside. Even among external stakeholders, the struggle to carve spheres of influence is palpable. At this very crucial moment, unfortunately, our ability to articulate and safeguard our national interests is eroding the fastest.
In a moment of remarkable forthrightness, CPN-UML chairman Jhal Nath Khanal claimed the new constitution would be a “brochure of the agreements reached between the political parties, and thus incomplete.” Perhaps it might be prudent to wonder aloud whether we might have put the cart before the horse.
Nepaliness, regardless of its origin, growth and perceived as well as real iniquities, is a reality of our times. This recognition seems to have been able to sensitize Nepalis abroad more than those within the country. For a people caught between the desecration of the statues of Prithvi Narayan Shah and strident pledges of reclaiming territories lost in the Sugauli Treaty, reality has a particularly relative quality. A national government is undoubtedly appealing. But there is little to suggest it might really be able to live up to its name.

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