Birth Of A Republic: Stories Behind The Story

By Sanjay Upadhya

The idea that the deep unpopularity of Nepal’s last monarch became the greatest catalyst for republicanism has an alluring pithiness. But tight headlines and terse nut-graphs cannot tell what is, by any measure, a far more complex story. The Nepalese political discourse has been dominated by incessant criticism – justified as well as inflated – of the palace. This singular obsession with former king Gyanendra’s “excesses” and the monarchy’s inherently “anti-democratic” proclivities creates a warped picture of the past. More importantly, it obstructs the extrapolation of valuable pointers for an increasingly uncertain future.

Contrary to conventional wisdom, the monarchy was not always the preponderant national institution during its 240-year existence. The death of Prithvi Narayan Shah, seven years after the founding of the Nepalese state, led to a weakening of the monarchy. A succession of minor kings left rival royal factions competing for power. The loss of a third of the nation’s territory in a debilitating war with the British only fueled the feuds. From the bloodletting rose the Ranas, who oversaw the eclipse of the monarchy for over a century.

Nepal’s foray into modernity in the 1950s revealed the new contradictions the monarchy would reign atop. The overthrow of the Rana regime, hailed as the dawn of democracy, ended up consolidating the monarchy. The inauguration of Nepal’s first elected government precipitated a battle of wills in which the palace prevailed over the Nepali Congress. Royal preponderance reached its zenith during the three decades following King Mahendra’s dismissal of Prime Minister B.P. Koirala’s government and abolition of multiparty democracy.

The incongruity of an impoverished nation having to finance an expensive institution was ideologically anathema to the communists. Yet the communists, whom the palace considered a counterweight to the Nepali Congress, prospered the most during 30 years of palace-led nonparty rule. The Nepali Congress, for its part, saw a constitutional monarchy as a bulwark against a preponderance of the left. Yet it made attempts on the lives of two kings.

The restoration of multiparty democracy in 1990 was expected to put Nepal irrevocably on the path of democratic modernity. Barely six years later, an avowedly republican Maoist insurgency helped the palace to gradually consolidate its position. International and regional powers, mindful of such internal contradictions, considered the palace the fulcrum of stability. India and the United States – the world’s two most prominent democratic republics – joined communist China to support the monarchy.

That compact was shaken – more internally than internationally – by the June 2001 Narayanhity massacre. The carnage dealt a grievous blow to the monarchy from multiple directions. It ended any halo of divinity surrounding the monarchy. The notion that the king was the guardian of the nation exploded with the bursts of gunfire. Nepalis were reminded of the history of bloodshed and machinations associated with palace politics.

The shady reputations of the new monarch and the heir apparent, coupled with swirling suspicions of their role in the palace massacre, could hardly provide a promising beginning. Yet the political parties lay discredited by their own performance and the Maoists had little to offer politically. A wary political class as well as public watched King Gyanendra’s moves to strengthen the palace’s role. Still, the royal interventions of October 2002 and February 2005 failed to rouse the people into vigorous opposition. Within Nepal, the two events were considered part of a continuum. Geopolitically, they were different. The contrast revealed an essential truism of Nepalese politics. International and regional powers, with their competing interests in and expectations from Nepal, have precipitated political changes.

When King Gyanendra dismissed an elected prime minister in 2002 for failing to hold elections on schedule, India and the United States seemed generally content. China maintained its characteristic silence. Over the preceding years, Western governments and international donors had been growing increasingly critical of the infighting, corruption and mismanagement that had gripped the polity. Their representatives in Kathmandu had become increasingly explicit in voicing those concerns.

The 2005 royal takeover, on the other hand, instantly infuriated the Indians and Americans, while the Chinese, again, professed non-interference. Yet Beijing’s anxiety was clear. A series of palace-appointed premiers had failed to quell the Maoist insurgency, prompting greater Indian as well as American military involvement. New Delhi’s own discomfort with American activism was palpable. Allowing the Maoists to triumph over the state would have grave implications for India’s Maoist insurgency.

Cautious China

Chinese apprehensions ran deeper. The Nepalese rebels’ wholesale discrediting of Mao Zedong’s reputation was intolerable enough, something Beijing expressed with great candor. It was not hard to fathom how a total Maoist triumph could energize restive populations in the Chinese hinterland deprived of a part of the post-Mao economic miracle. The prospect of Nepal’s inexorable drift toward the Indian-American camp carried grave implications for China’s soft underbelly, Tibet. On the eve of the 2005 royal takeover, Nepal shut down the local offices of the principal Tibet-related organizations. The event was thus cast as a pro-Chinese initiative.

Far from extending full support to the royal regime, however, the Chinese remained cautious. Prime Minister Wen Jiabao skipped Nepal during his South Asian tour, sending his foreign minister to Kathmandu instead. King Gyanendra’s anticipated visit to China to mark the 50th anniversary of bilateral ties did not materialize. The Indians succeeded in preventing the Americans from striking a separate deal with the palace. New Delhi, for its part, was negotiating with the king. It bailed out Nepal from massive censure at the UN Human Right Conference in Geneva and dangled the promise of a resumption of military – and perhaps even political –assistance.

A section of the Indian establishment always considered the monarchy the problem and found a conducive political alignment in New Delhi. The communist parties backing the ruling Indian coalition took the lead and moved swiftly to bring the Maoists and mainstream parties in an anti-palace alliance. The Indian army and internal security apparatus, insistent on helping the king and the Nepalese army, was not pleased, as a series of leaks in the Indian media showed. This conflict emboldened the royal government, which sought to internationalize its fight against the Maoists by linking it to the global war on terror. On the ground, it went after the mainstream parties without being able to dent the rebels. New Delhi checkmated the king by facilitating a ceasefire on the eve of his attempt to raise the insurgency at the United Nations General Assembly.

The monarch responded by spearheading a campaign to secure China’s position as an observer in South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation. The move came amid China’s drive to block India from regional initiatives in East Asia. In New Delhi, the palace’s brazen flaunting of the “China card” hardened critics and alienated the remaining supporters of the king. The Seven Party Alliance (SPA) and the Maoist rebels hurriedly signed the 12-point pact to bring down the royal regime.

The collaboration energized the Nepalese masses. The opportunity for peace and stability after years of bloodletting and instability was too enticing to squander. As anti-palace demonstrations picked up speed, India sent a royal relative, Karan Singh, as an emissary. The king’s invitation to the SPA to form the next government won instant praise from New Delhi, Washington and London. It failed to quell the protests. For the republican camp within Nepal and outside, the public defiance served to expose the depth of anti-monarchism.

The collapse of the royal regime led to a swift and systematic clipping of the palace’s powers. Still, a republican Nepal was not a done deal. The next phase – the suspension of the monarchy after the enactment of the interim constitution – morphed in line with a careful power play. A precipitous de-monarchization of the nation was precluded by the imponderables involved. The true nature of Nepalese public opinion vis-à-vis the monarchy, the loyalty of the army and the Maoists’ real commitment to the democratic process remained unknown. What was obvious was not inspiring: the mainstream parties’ poor record of governance.

Yet for India, mainstreaming the Maoists had become a matter of national security. The insurgency launched by Indian Maoists, or Naxalites, was spreading fast. The Naxalites were in no position to overwhelm the state, but they risked exacerbating India’s already grave internal security challenge. Engaging the Nepalese Maoists in the peace process through incremental carrots was tied to India’s plan to tame the Naxalites.

Faith-based Initiative?

For influential international quarters, King Gyanendra became too much of a liability. He continued to insist that he had seized power in good faith, adding that the effort failed because of “several factors”. The caveat could not have been lost on India. For the democratic West, the monarch’s overt tilt toward China was inexcusable enough. His espousal of the Hinduism mantle, with a fervor surpassing that of any of his predecessors, was tantamount to insolence. While Christian organizations had not listed Nepal high on the list of persecutor nations, many called it one of the most unreached nations for the Gospel. A Hindu monarch in a secular nation was far from tenable.

There were scattered reports of contacts in Delhi between the Maoists and Christian groups – some suggesting financial transactions – but they mostly emanated from the Hindu nationalist spectrum of the Indian media. Given the Maoists’ record of successfully using secondary adversaries to accomplish their immediate ends, the convergence of interest was plausible.

Had Crown Prince Paras enjoyed a better public image, forcing King Gyanendra to abdicate in favor of his son might have been an option. Passing the crown to Paras’s son, Hridayendra, would have mollified royalists. For the country, it meant a return of regency. King Gyanendra, more than anyone else, understood what this would mean for the monarchy. He dismissed calls for abdication made by Prime Minister Girija Prasad Koirala and others.

Publicly, the international community shunned the monarch. Privately they maintained channels. One reason was China’s swift move to build ties with the Maoists. The arrival of a modern high-speed train to the Tibetan capital Lhasa had greatly improved China’s access to Nepal. Nepal’s open border to the south exposed the Indian heartland to what many analysts there considered an enhanced military threat from China. The Terai erupted in violence against centuries of injustices inflicted by the hillspeople. The specific assurances foreign governments sought from the palace in exchange for the retention of some form of monarch remains unknown.

Clearly, the second amendment to the interim constitution, which declared Nepal a republic subject to an elected assembly’s ratification, was intended as a carrot and a stick for the palace. The monarch found more time to reconsider his options. To pre-empt any royal assertiveness, the statute also provided for the removal of the monarchy by two-thirds majority of the interim parliament. This ultimatum failed to influence the king but vitiated the political climate for the palace.

Previously, the Maoists and the mainstream parties – for their own interests – had made a distinction between the institution of the monarchy and individual kings. If Mahendra and Gyanendra were denounced as autocrats, Birendra and Tribhuvan, in their estimation, fared better as liberals. But now statues of Prithvi Narayan Shah were being demolished. Paradoxically, those committed to preserving Nepal’s sovereignty and territorial integrity viewed the state as the culmination of unjust wars of aggressions. Supporters of some form of monarchy in the Nepali Congress attempted to frame the discussion in different ways. The fear of being perceived as royalists in a ruling alliance heavily dominated by republicans dissuaded them. Moreover, royalist parties like the Rastriya Prajatantra Party and the Rastriya Janashakti Party had become monarchy neutral.

Opinion polls up to the run-up to the elections showed that half the country wanted to retain some form of monarchy. A referendum would have put the issue to rest. Victory would have permitted King Gyanendra to recreate the monarchy in his own image. A defeat would have allowed him to depart as a democrat.

Many expected the king to resist the republic declaration. The inability of the ruling alliance to agree on the precise structure of the presidency as well as power sharing up to the first meeting of constituent assembly suggested as much. Whether royal defiance would have succeeded is a different thing altogether. Ultimately, the ex-king saw the overwhelming assembly vote in favor of a republic as the best expression of the popular will under the circumstances which he and his predecessors always invoked.

The monarchy had been central to the policies of the three major international stakeholders in Nepal. The Maoists took in royalists reportedly on the advice of the Chinese to bolster a nationalist front. A Maoist-UML alliance could go a far way toward mollifying Beijing. For New Delhi, the Nepali Congress and the three Madhesi parties could provide succor. Washington, which began its own rapprochement with the Maoists after their electoral success, perhaps sees the military as the backbone of a non-communist front.

The presence of the ex-monarch within the country would probably help stabilize politics in the same way the return of Zahir Shah, Afghanistan former king, helped the Hamid Karzai government find its footing. With the end of the monarchy, a new quest for internal and regional equilibrium has begun.

(A version of this article appeared in the August 2008 inaugural issue of Global Nepali)

Republicanism: How About A Real Public Debate?

 By Sanjay Upadhya

Amid the flurry of political activity in Kathmandu and New Delhi in recent weeks, the myth surrounding the restoration of multiparty democracy in 1990 is being dispelled. From the outset, it was clear that the tripartite agreement among the royal palace, the Nepali Congress and a disparate alliance of communist factions was an uneasy one.

The main communist faction, the Marxist-Leninist, had officially expressed qualified support for the new constitution. The party’s objections primarily centered on the role and privileges of the monarchy. It was hardly a secret that the communist parties’ acceptance of constitutional monarchy was a tactical decision. The comrades, not too surprisingly, saw the palace as a useful counterweight to the Nepali Congress’ ambitions.

In the aftermath of King Gyanendra’s February 1 takeover of full executive powers, the Nepali Congress, too, has signaled that its support for constitutional monarchy is, at best, driven by expediency.

Ever since King Gyanendra dismissed the last elected government in October 2002 for failing to hold elections, Nepali Congress president Girija Prasad Koirala has been warning that the king’s political ambitions would compelled him to contemplate an alliance with the Maoist rebels to abolish the monarchy. This is surely a leap of faith for a man who headed the government that inaugurated the unleashing of state power against the rebels, who have been fighting since 1996 to establish a communist republic.

Now Koirala’s one-time deputy, Ram Chandra Poudel, has gone a step further by asserting that King Birendra was not satisfied with the powers granted him under the constitution. For a party that proclaimed that King Birendra was the paragon of virtue when it came to adherence to the constitution, Poudel’s disclosure was revealing departure. 

Moreover, Poudel must have had to summon much antipathy to speak in the way he did against the former monarch around the fourth anniversary of the palace massacre that wiped out most of the royal family.

The monarchy, to be sure, could not have been satisfied with the restricted political role the two major parties envisaged for him in the new constitution. What King Birendra announced on the night of April 8, 1990 was merely the lifting of the ban on political parties. The ensuing days witnessed a struggle for power on the streets and in the media. The scales were tipped against the palace, already weakened by a crippling trade and transit embargo imposed by India. Fifteen years later, the palace stepped in to claim a role it believed it never had relinquished under the tripartite agreement.

Among the leaders still detained by the royal government after the lifting the state of emergency on April 30 are leading proponents of a constituent assembly. This is a key demand of the Maoists, who expect the elected body to transform the kingdom into a republic. The detentions indicate that the palace is ready for a showdown regardless of the quarter it emanated from.

Koirala, the leader of the seven-party anti-palace alliance formed last month, is currently in India for medical treatment. He has been holding talks with sympathetic Indian leaders in an effort to consolidate the democracy movement in Nepal. Advocating a “fight to the finish for full democracy”, he may be contemplating some kind of alliance with the Maoists, who have acknowledged opening their own contacts with key Indian leaders. It remains unclear, though, whether the latest consultations would help clarify the republican agenda.

Indeed, precious little has been heard so far. Considering the Nepalese political parties’ propensity for polarization while in power – a trait preponderant during the two phases of multiparty democracy in 1951-1960 and 1990-2002 – the contours of a republican future need to be drawn clearly. The process needs to begin with a precise definition of the relationship between the head of state and head of government, including role, functions and powers.

To some extent, a United States-style presidential system might help avoid conflicts. Since such a model would be seen centralizing power in one branch, legislative and judicial checks and balances acquire special attention.

An Indian-style prime ministerial model would envisage a titular head of state. Since the president would be the supreme commander of the armed forces, the command-and-control conflicts the mainstream parties see under the monarchy would still exist. This issue acquires additional urgency in view of the heavy politicization of the police force and bureaucracy under successive elected governments.

Irrespective of the model, effective safeguards against potential conflicts between the executive and legislative branches must be put in place. Questions relating to the president’s tenure, including impeachment, must be addressed vigorously, considering the frequency with which no-confidence motions were introduced against the prime minister in the past.

The prime minister’s prerogative to dissolve parliament and call fresh elections, a subject of much divisiveness in the past, must be clearly addressed. There are legitimate issues concerning the judiciary, especially since each prime minister that dissolved the House of Representatives was eventually challenged in the Supreme Court.

In the case of direct elections to both offices, the issue of power-sharing by a president and prime minister representing rival parties becomes crucial. French-style “cohabitation” under which jurisdictions for foreign and domestic policies are clearly laid out, might provide some insights.

Awaiting greater clarification, though, is the precise mechanism of ushering in a republic. The current discussions on a constituent assembly remain superficial. Worse, they presume that the popular verdict is already known. Will voting be conducted along the present first-past-the-post system or proportional representation? How can traditionally underrepresented groups expect their voices and concerns to be heard? Would the people’s representatives elected on diverse platforms assemble to vote on a future model? Or would the issue be put directly to a referendum? 

Considering the deep divisions in the electorate, how would each of the alternative outcome scenarios be addressed? Who exactly will be drafting a new constitution? Discussions have focused too narrowly on how the palace might react to an adverse result. How would the mainstream parties and the Maoists respond to an outcome not to their liking?

In the case of a republican victory, how would the ambiguities contained in the Maoists’ commitment to their ultimate goal of establishing a communist republic be addressed? This question becomes all the more important in view of the growing interest and influence of external powers in Nepal.

For China, India, United States and Britain, among other countries, the monarchy has been the pivot of stability since the 1950s. Public support, tradition and continuity have conferred special legitimacy to the institution, which external powers have acknowledged and incorporated in their policies vis-à-vis the country.

A full Maoist takeover would hardly be acceptable to them, albeit for different reasons. The United States, which sees its victory over communism as a seminal event of the last century, would hardly countenance such a brazen reversal of that reality. Moreover, Washington has designated the rebels a terrorist group.

The Maoists, who have carefully calibrated their postures in keeping with the exigencies of the moment, may be ready to shed some of their doctrinaire policies and rhetoric in exchange for legitimacy.

However, it remains doubtful whether they would be ready to change the party name and flag in exchange for western support, especially when the far more moderate Unified Marxist Leninists have not been able to do so.

Despite misguided attempts to portray a Chinese hand behind the insurgency, it is clear that Beijing would hardly acquiesce in the emergence of a hard-line Maoist government in Nepal. The Nepalese Maoists continue to espouse aspects of the Cultural Revolution—including class conflicts and retribution – which modern-day Chinese communists would prefer to forget. Moreover, at a time when economic reforms have left a huge rural-urban income divide in China, the communist leadership in Beijing cannot be unaware of the destabilizing effects of a homegrown yet antiquated ideology in a volatile part of South Asia.

As for India, extreme left-wing insurgencies grip some 40 percent of the country’s 593 districts. A full-fledged Maoist takeover in Nepal would serve to energize these groups into forging their wider compact revolutionary zone in South Asia. Considering the long and porous border between the two countries and the peoples’ longstanding links, sections in the Indian establishment might be willing to contemplate a Maoist-dominated republican Nepal under the presidency of, say, the Nepali Congress.

Indeed, New Delhi’s recent decision to open direct channels of communication with the Nepalese Maoists, purportedly under the auspices of leftist supporters of the ruling coalition, could be aimed at facilitating such an alliance. Would the vociferous Hindutva element in India accede to the destruction of the world’s only Hindu kingdom?

Despite the much-hyped bonhomie between China and India, New Delhi’s enthusiasm in defining a new state structure in Nepal would clearly sensitize Beijing. Growing cooperation between the world’s two most populous nations cannot mask the reality that they are also competitors. The limits to conciliation have been on display for some time.

Despite India’s full recognition of Tibet as an integral part of China, Beijing has hardly shown unequivocal reciprocity on the issue of Sikkim, the Himalayan kingdom India annexed in 1974. China’s reticence on India’s candidacy for a permanent seat on the United Nations Security Council provides yet another illustration of this complex relationship.

In keeping with its massive economic expansion, China has decided to deepen its strategic influence in the region, especially with Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal and Sri Lanka. According to a report published in April by Washington DC-based Jamestown Foundation, Nepal’s strategic location makes the kingdom an important part of South Asia. Nepal’s borders meet China’s restive western province of Tibet on the one hand, and Naxalite-dominated Indian states on the other.

China has traditionally viewed the monarchy as the cornerstone of its Nepal policy. Weeks after describing the royal takeover as an “internal matter,” China sent Foreign Minister Li Zhaoxing to Nepal in a clear gesture of support. Jia Qinglin, chairman of the National Committee of Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference, China’s top advisory body, reaffirmed his country’s support during a meeting with King Gyanendra in April on the sidelines of the Boao Forum for Asia conference in Hainan.

In return, the Jamestown report says, China wants the Nepalese government to stay clear of any foreign (Indian or the U.S.) influence that could make trouble in Tibet. To further the goal of status quo in Tibet, China is integrating Nepal into the Tibetan economy, and laying a highway that will connect the two. Chinese President Hu Jintao, who served as Communist Party secretary in Tibet from 1988 to 1992, perhaps best understands the importance of this integration.

The United States, which joined India and Britain in arming and training the Royal Nepalese Army in its fight against the Maoists, has embarked on a deft policy. While the other two countries responded to the royal takeover by announcing a suspension of military assistance, the United States adopted a watch-and-wait policy. Publicly, Washington continues to emphasize policy coordination with New Delhi and London. Behind the scenes, Washington has engaged with Beijing, already is a key intermediary in the North Korean nuclear crisis.

The Bush administration, aware of China’s recent moves to fill a vacuum in Asian leadership, has assigned Deputy Secretary of State Robert B. Zoellick to head a permanent U.S. delegation to talk with China one a variety of international issues, including Burma, Nepal and Sudan.

In a 2002 report, the U.S. research organization Stratfor wrote that Washington has relatively little interest in Nepal’s insurgency. However, it added, the Pentagon likely would not mind having another emergency air base or logistics center close to Pakistan and Central Asia. “In looking toward the longer term, the United States definitely wants as much of a presence on the border with China as possible,” the report said.

Beijing is well aware of Washington’s intentions and is no doubt concerned about the U.S. encirclement that is already taking place, Stratfor said. “The U.S. military has bases in Pakistan, throughout Central Asia, Japan, South Korea and the Philippines, and it has relations with Mongolia, Taiwan, Singapore and Thailand. Nepal is another link in the chain,” it added.

Referring to India’s strategic decision in the mid-1990s to move closer to the United States, Stratfor said New Delhi hoped to benefit from increased trade, eventual access to U.S. weapons systems and the formation of a strong alliance to counter China.

“However, American involvement with Nepal and Sri Lanka raises conflicting impulses. On one hand, New Delhi is glad to see Washington trying to clean up the insurgencies that have spilled over into its borders for years. On the other hand, there is a visceral reaction against foreign involvement in India’s backyard, especially when those foreigners maintain strong ties with Indian rival Pakistan.”

The report added: “Many in India’s foreign policy circles are concerned that Washington may replace India as the dominant power in South Asia, assuming that Nepal, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh and Bhutan prefer the freedom that comes with casting their allegiance with a distant giant rather than one close to home.” This, according to Stratfor, has dampened India’s hope of becoming the dominant power in the Indian Ocean and interacting with Washington as a near equal.

In an earlier report, Stratfor underscored Nepal’s strong geo-strategic value to world powers. “The power that stations its space-linked surveillance, intelligence and navigation systems on Nepal’s high mountains gets geo-strategic leverage over several Asian regions, from Central Asia to South-East Asia,” the report said.

Clearly, Nepal must brace for new domestic and international challenges. Proponents of a republican agenda need to persuade the people that the new model would be more effective than the monarchy in address these challenges. Rhetorical threats must not be allowed to take the place of substantive discussions. The accusation that King Gyanendra in this day and age is bent on reviving autocracy is an insult to the intelligence of the Nepalese people.

Originally posted on June 8, 2005