By Sanjay Upadhya
February 3, 2006
A year after seizing full executive powers, King Gyanendra has baffled many in Nepal and abroad by essentially pledging to the stay the course. After a tumultuous year – a qualification opponents, supporters and those indifferent to the royal takeover would probably agree on – the punditocracy had expected the monarch either to begin a process of reconciliation with the mainstream opposition and Maoist rebels or to take a harder line against them.
In a nationally televised address on Feb. 1, marking the first anniversary of his takeover, the monarch insisted that Nepal's overall situation had improved. He vowed to hold next week's controversial municipal elections as scheduled, clearing the way for national elections next year. In content, tone and demeanor, the monarch appeared resolute. Widespread international condemnation and growing internal opposition do not seem to have distracted him terribly.
In the weeks and months since he dismissed Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba's multiparty government, King Gyanendra has made it amply clear that his roadmap for Nepal's renewal draws important coordinates from its partyless past.
The monarch was quick to appoint prominent members of the Panchayat system to his cabinet. Some senior bureaucrats of the time were brought back for public duty. Although politicians who broke away from the Nepali Congress and the Unified Marxist Leninists continue to serve in the royal cabinet, they don't seem to be setting the agenda.
Panchayat-era institutions like zonal administrators have been revived. The state media has been projecting the royal roadmap with Panchayat-era zeal. King Gyanendra himself has been regularly touring the countryside, mingling with ordinary people in a way befitting a politician running for office.
Despite this clarity, the royal government continues to face a serious credibility crisis. Palace advisers must have factored in the stridency of the criticism the takeover would trigger from Nepal's mainstream parties, civil society, the private-sector media and much of the international community. Barely months after the takeover, prominent royalists began voicing disenchantment with the palace's rule.
Haunted By The Past
Within the mainstream alliance, the loudest criticism of King Mahendra – the father of the present monarch who introduced the Panchayat system after ousting Nepal's first elected government in 1960 – resonates as the sturdiest confirmation of one's democratic credentials. The newly ascendant ex-panchas seem to be held back by a sense of collective shame. Clearly, the royal government's real crisis is one of conviction.
King Gyanendra has carefully avoided using the word "Panchayat" in his public pronouncements. His ministers have been speaking of their past cryptically, if at all. By no contemporary standard could the Panchayat regime be defined as democratic. In retrospect, the three-decade ban on political parties alone was enough to expose the emptiness of any such claim. But was the regime really the monster its critics continue to denounce it as?
No doubt, the Panchayat philosophy considered political opposition as an alien institution detrimental to Nepalese society. Countless politicians and activists were imprisoned for years purely for their political beliefs. Countless others lost their lives trying to restore democratic rule.
However, these facts do not tell the entire story. Political opposition existed in at least three forms since King Mahendra's takeover. At the first level were the banned Nepali Congress and communist parties, which sought to overthrow the royal regime by overt or covert means.
The second front consisted of smaller opposition parties that offered policy alternatives without directly challenging the royal regime. The third group consisted of legislators who sought to liberalize and democratize the partyless system from within.
By casting the Panchayat system as the product of an ambitious king's desire to monopolize power before elected politicians gained excessive control, critics have blocked a broader contextual inquiry. King Mahendra repeatedly characterized parties as corrupt, divisive and pawns of foreign powers. In fairness, his strong distrust of parties as agents of modernization partially rested on their performance during the 1950s.
Nepal, more importantly, was part of a wider group of newly emerging nations in Asia, Africa and Latin America that could not shield themselves from the emerging dynamics of the Cold War. The competing pressures exerted by the United States and the Soviet Union, in search of newer spheres of influence, were enough to turn many of these countries into non-party, one-party or military regimes. Nepal confronted added pressures from the growing tensions between its two giant neighbors, China and India.
Within its quadrangular confines, the Panchayat system's achievements in developing infrastructure, integrating the economy and heightening the kingdom's international profile stood out. Democratic leaders who praise King Birendra for his emphasis on peace and development are, in effect, lauding the role he played during the Panchayat years.
Through regular national and local elections, the partyless system contributed to raising the people's democratic awareness. There was no shortage of accusations of rigging and other electoral machinations. But, then, such complaints were no less clamorous during the parliamentary and local elections held after the restoration of multiparty democracy in 1990.
If the Panchayat system's achievements rested on the systematic repression of the people, as critics continue to claim, then Nepalis probably still have to unearth all those mass graves buried somewhere out there. If the monarchy is indeed responsible for the impoverishment of Nepal, then one must wonder why the Maoist rebellion did not break out during the Panchayat system, when the palace was at the zenith of its power. If the repressiveness of that regime foreclosed that possibility, then the openness of the last 15 years seems to have left much uncovered.
For their part, western governments warning King Gyanendra against a return to the past are being disingenuous. In a clear display of bipartisanship, the White House invited King Mahendra and King Birendra on state visits – the first under Democrat Lyndon B. Johnson and the second under Republican Ronald Reagan. President Reagan not only endorsed King Birendra's proposal to have Nepal declared a Zone of Peace, he recommended that other governments should do so. The White House's clear reference was to India, the principal critic, which saw the proposal as the king's effort to undermine New Delhi's influence in Nepal.
Queen Elizabeth paid two state visits to Nepal, the first weeks after King Mahendra's takeover. King Birendra played host to European luminaries like French President Francois Mitterand and West German Chancellor Helmut Kohl. Indian presidents and prime ministers basked in royal hospitality while singing paeans to the monarchy's role in strengthening the traditional ties between the two nations. Could the partyless system have been sustained without the generous financial assistance provided by the international community?
In ignoring the broader context in which the palace-led partyless system existed for three decades, Nepal's post-1990 democratic leadership ended up unprepared for the post-9/11 shift in the dynamics of international relations.
Indeed, for the anti-palace alliance and Maoist rebels, the wholesale denunciation of the Panchayat regime, understandably, continues to be politically expedient. The palace had endured enough criticism for the partyless system's flaws to have started advancing its achievements.
King Gyanendra's cabinet includes diverse elements from the Panchayat past, beginning with Dr. Tulsi Giri, the man who broke with the Nepali Congress in 1960 to bolster the royal regime. Kirti Nidhi Bista, another politician with an early background in multiparty politics, remained a favorite with Kings Mahendra and Birendra. Tanka Dhakal, Kamal Thapa, Niranjan Thapa and Bhuban Pathak entered politics as pro-Panchayat student leaders, emerging as first-generation panchas.
Conventional wisdom dismisses these men as nothing more than Stalin's henchmen or Hitler's storm troopers. However, they could have begun to set the record straight by showing greater candor in addressing their partyless past in the wider canvas of that system's context, nature and role. Instead, they spent most the past year trying to flaunt the government's supposed democratic credentials.
After all, the Panchayat system, even during its most restrictive form between 1975 and 1980, was far more accountable to the people than the current regime is.
Through forthrightness, the palace could have entered more forcefully in a constructive debate about its future. The cost of failure is all too apparent. The royal regime's proposal to develop Nepal as a "transit corridor" between two Asian powerhouses has failed to generate the national discussion it deserves. The palace's effort to correct the distortions in Nepal's foreign policy, in keeping within its rights as a sovereign nation, continues to be brushed off as the brandishing of the "China card" by the Nepalese media. The Royal Nepal Army is subjected to the most stringent human rights standards, while the Maoist rebels can get away with blatant violations of commitments made to the international community.
Can the people really be blamed for failing to grasp, much less be galvanized, by a royal agenda so clear yet so lacking in conviction?
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Milosevic’s Defiance In Saddam’s Defense
By Sanjay Upadhya
March 20, 2006
It turns out that Slobodan Milosevic did much more than simply evade the clutches of justice. The former Yugoslav president set a precedent for peers facing charges of war crimes and crimes against humanity.
Through a mixture of crude theatrics, legal hair-splitting and utter insolence, the worst offenders could expect to diminish the prosecution’s case. In Saddam Hussein’s defiance from the witness stand in Baghdad this week, Milosevic’s spirit was alive.
Whether the former Yugoslav president’s death was self-inflicted, a case of murder or a result of natural causes will perhaps never be answered to everyone’s satisfaction. It may even be immaterial. The “Butcher of Belgrade” is likely to live on through the stinging epithet rather than his epitaph.
The Balkan wars unleashed on Milosevic’s watch have left a murderous legacy. The Croatian war claimed some 20,000 lives, the Bosnian war 100,000 and the Kosovo conflict 10,000. Millions of lives continue to be convulsed in different ways. The 66 charges he was facing in The Hague spoke enough of his record in office. His death was a setback for the evolving international justice system when it was so close to achieving the first conviction of a former head of state.
There are elements of the Milosevic story that defy easy characterizations. In a BBC interview the other day, Lord Owen described Milosevic as someone who honored his pledge. A genocidal maniac might exhibit bright moments of lucidity. Earning the compliment – even if unintended -- of an international statesman would have required greater sanity.
Milosevic was sane enough to act as his own defense attorney at The Hague. A particularly coherent moment arrived in late 2003, when he cross-examined retired U.S. Gen. Wesley Clark. Referring to Clark’s first meeting with Radko Mladic, Milosevic asked the former NATO supreme commander to describe his relations with the Bosnian Serb general.
Clark described Mladic as angry and belligerent. Milosevic, however, recalled otherwise. He said both Clark and Mladic had described the meeting to him as very cordial. “Mladic
praised you a great deal, that you had a lot of understanding, and then also you said to me all the best about Mladic. Isn't that right, General Clark?” Milosevic continued.
Clark said he did not remember making any complimentary remarks about Mladic, adding it was difficult to engage in a cordial conversation with him. Milosevic then pointed to front page photograph in the Belgrade weekly Nin in which Mladic and Clark were seen wearing each other’s caps.
Surely, Milosevic must have prepared similar questions for British Prime Minster Tony Blair and former U.S. president Bill Clinton, whom he wanted to question at the trial. Milosevic’s failing health intervened; the world was deprived of what would have been groundbreaking exchanges.
To be sure, Milosevic could not have unleashed such devastation without willing partners. Lesser known players have been convicted; Bosnian Serb leaders like Radovan Karadzic and Mladic still remain at large. Since he towered above them all, Milosevic bore most responsibility.
No doubt, supporters will continue to rue how a nationalist was brought down as part of a “conspiracy” against Yugoslavia – Milosevic’s principal defense. For most, Milosevic, like Hitler, Stalin, Mao and Pol Pot before him, will stand convicted as charged in the public consciousness.
The architects of the international justice system must confront the lesson. As the wheels of the legal system inch forward, minutely and methodically adhering to its core principles, public memory will have been distracted. Future Milosevics will no doubt try to use each delay and distraction to plant enough skepticism to convey the impression of the triumph of victors’ justice.
Saddam Hussein may or may not have followed the twists and turns of Milosevic’s trial to emulate his defense. The former Iraqi strongman has clearly capitalized on his own people’s nostalgia for the safety, security and certainty of his regime. Amid daily losses of lives and limbs, as Milosevic might have ruminated, old mass graves lose their power to offend.
March 20, 2006
It turns out that Slobodan Milosevic did much more than simply evade the clutches of justice. The former Yugoslav president set a precedent for peers facing charges of war crimes and crimes against humanity.
Through a mixture of crude theatrics, legal hair-splitting and utter insolence, the worst offenders could expect to diminish the prosecution’s case. In Saddam Hussein’s defiance from the witness stand in Baghdad this week, Milosevic’s spirit was alive.
Whether the former Yugoslav president’s death was self-inflicted, a case of murder or a result of natural causes will perhaps never be answered to everyone’s satisfaction. It may even be immaterial. The “Butcher of Belgrade” is likely to live on through the stinging epithet rather than his epitaph.
The Balkan wars unleashed on Milosevic’s watch have left a murderous legacy. The Croatian war claimed some 20,000 lives, the Bosnian war 100,000 and the Kosovo conflict 10,000. Millions of lives continue to be convulsed in different ways. The 66 charges he was facing in The Hague spoke enough of his record in office. His death was a setback for the evolving international justice system when it was so close to achieving the first conviction of a former head of state.
There are elements of the Milosevic story that defy easy characterizations. In a BBC interview the other day, Lord Owen described Milosevic as someone who honored his pledge. A genocidal maniac might exhibit bright moments of lucidity. Earning the compliment – even if unintended -- of an international statesman would have required greater sanity.
Milosevic was sane enough to act as his own defense attorney at The Hague. A particularly coherent moment arrived in late 2003, when he cross-examined retired U.S. Gen. Wesley Clark. Referring to Clark’s first meeting with Radko Mladic, Milosevic asked the former NATO supreme commander to describe his relations with the Bosnian Serb general.
Clark described Mladic as angry and belligerent. Milosevic, however, recalled otherwise. He said both Clark and Mladic had described the meeting to him as very cordial. “Mladic
praised you a great deal, that you had a lot of understanding, and then also you said to me all the best about Mladic. Isn't that right, General Clark?” Milosevic continued.
Clark said he did not remember making any complimentary remarks about Mladic, adding it was difficult to engage in a cordial conversation with him. Milosevic then pointed to front page photograph in the Belgrade weekly Nin in which Mladic and Clark were seen wearing each other’s caps.
Surely, Milosevic must have prepared similar questions for British Prime Minster Tony Blair and former U.S. president Bill Clinton, whom he wanted to question at the trial. Milosevic’s failing health intervened; the world was deprived of what would have been groundbreaking exchanges.
To be sure, Milosevic could not have unleashed such devastation without willing partners. Lesser known players have been convicted; Bosnian Serb leaders like Radovan Karadzic and Mladic still remain at large. Since he towered above them all, Milosevic bore most responsibility.
No doubt, supporters will continue to rue how a nationalist was brought down as part of a “conspiracy” against Yugoslavia – Milosevic’s principal defense. For most, Milosevic, like Hitler, Stalin, Mao and Pol Pot before him, will stand convicted as charged in the public consciousness.
The architects of the international justice system must confront the lesson. As the wheels of the legal system inch forward, minutely and methodically adhering to its core principles, public memory will have been distracted. Future Milosevics will no doubt try to use each delay and distraction to plant enough skepticism to convey the impression of the triumph of victors’ justice.
Saddam Hussein may or may not have followed the twists and turns of Milosevic’s trial to emulate his defense. The former Iraqi strongman has clearly capitalized on his own people’s nostalgia for the safety, security and certainty of his regime. Amid daily losses of lives and limbs, as Milosevic might have ruminated, old mass graves lose their power to offend.
The Unfolding ‘Great Game’ In South Asia
By Sanjay Upadhya
April 12, 2006
South Asia’s growing geo-strategic profile is being raised several notches by another global player. Japan plans to create a special South Asia department in its Foreign Ministry, designed to coordinate diplomacy with India and monitor China's regional influence, the Japanese daily Sankei Shimbun reported April 5. The new department will also be responsible for focusing greater attention on Pakistan and other South Asian nations, the newspaper said.
During the Cold War, ideological inhibitions and the insularity of South Asian economies had pushed the region to the margins of Japanese diplomacy. Although Tokyo saw South Asia as strategically important, especially in view of the sea-lanes vital to its oil imports from the Middle East, development cooperation with the region took precedence over everything else. As South Asian nations began liberalizing their economies and opening their doors to foreign investment in the early 1990s, Japan's economic involvement in the region grew substantially.
The timing of Japan’s latest effort to step up engagement with South Asia is significant; it comes weeks after the Bush administration merged the State Department’s South Asian and Central Asian bureaus into a single unit. Afghanistan, which is set to officially join the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC) as a full member later this year, is seen as the vital bridge between the two volatile regions of Asia. The United States and South Korea have applied for observer status at SAARC, a position China and Japan have been granted.
Geopolitical Shift
The geopolitical locus of South Asia underwent a dramatic shift last November when Nepal successfully tied Afghanistan’s SAARC membership to observer status for China. New Delhi’s strong initial opposition to the linkage crumbled as Pakistan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka backed Nepal.
Clearly, the simultaneous inclusion of Japan – a traditional rival of China to which India has been warming up in recent years -- was intended to mollify New Delhi. For Tokyo, a formal foothold in South Asia comes amid a resurgence of popular opinion in favor of a more vigorous international role.
A recent poll by the Yomiuri Shimbun found 71 percent of Japanese want the country's constitution to "clarify the existence of the Self-Defense Force." Fifty-six percent said the constitution should be modified to take the SDF into consideration. The poll also put the number of those who want the pacifist Article 9 of the constitution revised at 39 percent - the highest percent in five years.
Ever since coming to office in 2000, Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi has argued the need for Japan to come out of the humiliation of its defeat in the Second World War and consider itself as a regional, if not global, power. In Beijing’s view, Tokyo has already embarked on assertive internationalism, especially in view of its deployments in Iraq, joint development of anti-missile systems, in-air refueling capabilities and interoperability among the various branches of service. China, which opposes Japan’s and India’s bids to become permanent members of the United Nations Security Council, is anxious to offset a Tokyo-New Delhi alignment in South Asia.
Asian Giants’ Rivalry
To be sure, relations between India and China have come a long way since their brief but bitter border war in 1962. The upturn has been spurred in large part by the two Asian giants’ booming economic ties. China is set to replace the United States as India's leading trade partner in the near future. New Delhi and Beijing, which recently held their second "strategic dialogue," have declared 2006 as a friendship year. They have agreed to cooperate, rather than compete, for global energy resources vital to fueling their growing economies.
Overall relations, however, are still inherently fragile. Contrasting cultures, disparate international outlooks, divergent political systems, and competing geostrategic interests, among other things, have left India-China ties vulnerable to sudden deterioration.
The U.S.-India nuclear deal, which aims to recognize New Delhi as the sixth nuclear power as well as open up civilian nuclear supplies, despite India’s refusal sign the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, is only one of several contentious areas. Beijing believes the deal, signed during President George W. Bush’s visit to India early last month, would have a negative impact on the global nuclear order. The official Chinese media have been less reticent in voicing their concern; editorial writers and opinion columnists warn that if Washington made a nuclear exception for New Delhi, other powers could do the same with their allies.
Two other developments have forced Indians to sit up and ponder. Last November, New Delhi was taken aback by the emergence of a pro-China bloc comprising Pakistan, Nepal, and Bangladesh at the 13th SAARC summit in Dhaka. A month later, at the first East Asia Summit in Kuala Lumpur, China largely succeeded in confining India to the periphery of a future East Asia Community.
Chinese Strategic Contours
The strategic contours of China’s South Asia policy are becoming clearer. After Pakistan and Myanmar, Beijing is skillfully employing economic and military means to draw India’s other smaller neighbors into its own sphere of influence. The People’s Liberation Army’s recent incursions and road construction in Bhutanese territory are aimed at pressuring the tiny Himalayan kingdom to end its protectorate ties with India.
China has been steadily enhancing cooperation with Nepal, where King Gyanendra’s takeover of full executive powers last year prompted widespread international condemnation and arms embargos from traditional suppliers India, Britain and the United States. Spurning Indian pleas not to step into the vacuum, Beijing has supplied arms to King Gyanendra’s government, which – ironically enough -- is fighting a vicious Maoist insurgency.
Amid a downturn in India’s relations with Bangladesh, over such issues as illegal immigration, Islamist terrorism and trade, China has gained naval access to the Chittagong port. Through a road link with Bangladesh via Myanmar, China hopes to access Bangladesh’s vast natural gas reserves. China, the major arms supplier to Bangladesh, recently offered to provide Dhaka with nuclear reactor technology, heightening Indian anxieties.
China's growing regional assertiveness has had its impact on bilateral relations with India. During the last round of border talks in September, Indian analysts detected a hardening of Beijing stance on their long-running territorial dispute. Moreover, China,
which finally seemed to have come around to recognizing India’s 1975 annexation of the former Himalayan kingdom of Sikkim, now appears to be going slow on formalizing that position.
U.S. Written All Over
Beijing’s fears that Washington was using New Delhi and Tokyo as part of a broader campaign to contain China were further enflamed in February by the publication of the U.S. Department of Defense's Quadrennial Defense Review (QDR). The Chinese Foreign Ministry criticized Washington for attempting to play up a “non-existent Chinese military threat.”
Chinese analysts see the QDR’s designation of their country as a “strategic threat,” along with the U.S. focus on enhancing its Pacific military assets and increasing its long-range strike capability, as clear preparations for a future conflict. The full implications of a U.S.-led China-containment strategy in South Asia are yet to emerge. In an already volatile region, perceptions have a dangerous way of defining reality.
April 12, 2006
South Asia’s growing geo-strategic profile is being raised several notches by another global player. Japan plans to create a special South Asia department in its Foreign Ministry, designed to coordinate diplomacy with India and monitor China's regional influence, the Japanese daily Sankei Shimbun reported April 5. The new department will also be responsible for focusing greater attention on Pakistan and other South Asian nations, the newspaper said.
During the Cold War, ideological inhibitions and the insularity of South Asian economies had pushed the region to the margins of Japanese diplomacy. Although Tokyo saw South Asia as strategically important, especially in view of the sea-lanes vital to its oil imports from the Middle East, development cooperation with the region took precedence over everything else. As South Asian nations began liberalizing their economies and opening their doors to foreign investment in the early 1990s, Japan's economic involvement in the region grew substantially.
The timing of Japan’s latest effort to step up engagement with South Asia is significant; it comes weeks after the Bush administration merged the State Department’s South Asian and Central Asian bureaus into a single unit. Afghanistan, which is set to officially join the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC) as a full member later this year, is seen as the vital bridge between the two volatile regions of Asia. The United States and South Korea have applied for observer status at SAARC, a position China and Japan have been granted.
Geopolitical Shift
The geopolitical locus of South Asia underwent a dramatic shift last November when Nepal successfully tied Afghanistan’s SAARC membership to observer status for China. New Delhi’s strong initial opposition to the linkage crumbled as Pakistan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka backed Nepal.
Clearly, the simultaneous inclusion of Japan – a traditional rival of China to which India has been warming up in recent years -- was intended to mollify New Delhi. For Tokyo, a formal foothold in South Asia comes amid a resurgence of popular opinion in favor of a more vigorous international role.
A recent poll by the Yomiuri Shimbun found 71 percent of Japanese want the country's constitution to "clarify the existence of the Self-Defense Force." Fifty-six percent said the constitution should be modified to take the SDF into consideration. The poll also put the number of those who want the pacifist Article 9 of the constitution revised at 39 percent - the highest percent in five years.
Ever since coming to office in 2000, Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi has argued the need for Japan to come out of the humiliation of its defeat in the Second World War and consider itself as a regional, if not global, power. In Beijing’s view, Tokyo has already embarked on assertive internationalism, especially in view of its deployments in Iraq, joint development of anti-missile systems, in-air refueling capabilities and interoperability among the various branches of service. China, which opposes Japan’s and India’s bids to become permanent members of the United Nations Security Council, is anxious to offset a Tokyo-New Delhi alignment in South Asia.
Asian Giants’ Rivalry
To be sure, relations between India and China have come a long way since their brief but bitter border war in 1962. The upturn has been spurred in large part by the two Asian giants’ booming economic ties. China is set to replace the United States as India's leading trade partner in the near future. New Delhi and Beijing, which recently held their second "strategic dialogue," have declared 2006 as a friendship year. They have agreed to cooperate, rather than compete, for global energy resources vital to fueling their growing economies.
Overall relations, however, are still inherently fragile. Contrasting cultures, disparate international outlooks, divergent political systems, and competing geostrategic interests, among other things, have left India-China ties vulnerable to sudden deterioration.
The U.S.-India nuclear deal, which aims to recognize New Delhi as the sixth nuclear power as well as open up civilian nuclear supplies, despite India’s refusal sign the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, is only one of several contentious areas. Beijing believes the deal, signed during President George W. Bush’s visit to India early last month, would have a negative impact on the global nuclear order. The official Chinese media have been less reticent in voicing their concern; editorial writers and opinion columnists warn that if Washington made a nuclear exception for New Delhi, other powers could do the same with their allies.
Two other developments have forced Indians to sit up and ponder. Last November, New Delhi was taken aback by the emergence of a pro-China bloc comprising Pakistan, Nepal, and Bangladesh at the 13th SAARC summit in Dhaka. A month later, at the first East Asia Summit in Kuala Lumpur, China largely succeeded in confining India to the periphery of a future East Asia Community.
Chinese Strategic Contours
The strategic contours of China’s South Asia policy are becoming clearer. After Pakistan and Myanmar, Beijing is skillfully employing economic and military means to draw India’s other smaller neighbors into its own sphere of influence. The People’s Liberation Army’s recent incursions and road construction in Bhutanese territory are aimed at pressuring the tiny Himalayan kingdom to end its protectorate ties with India.
China has been steadily enhancing cooperation with Nepal, where King Gyanendra’s takeover of full executive powers last year prompted widespread international condemnation and arms embargos from traditional suppliers India, Britain and the United States. Spurning Indian pleas not to step into the vacuum, Beijing has supplied arms to King Gyanendra’s government, which – ironically enough -- is fighting a vicious Maoist insurgency.
Amid a downturn in India’s relations with Bangladesh, over such issues as illegal immigration, Islamist terrorism and trade, China has gained naval access to the Chittagong port. Through a road link with Bangladesh via Myanmar, China hopes to access Bangladesh’s vast natural gas reserves. China, the major arms supplier to Bangladesh, recently offered to provide Dhaka with nuclear reactor technology, heightening Indian anxieties.
China's growing regional assertiveness has had its impact on bilateral relations with India. During the last round of border talks in September, Indian analysts detected a hardening of Beijing stance on their long-running territorial dispute. Moreover, China,
which finally seemed to have come around to recognizing India’s 1975 annexation of the former Himalayan kingdom of Sikkim, now appears to be going slow on formalizing that position.
U.S. Written All Over
Beijing’s fears that Washington was using New Delhi and Tokyo as part of a broader campaign to contain China were further enflamed in February by the publication of the U.S. Department of Defense's Quadrennial Defense Review (QDR). The Chinese Foreign Ministry criticized Washington for attempting to play up a “non-existent Chinese military threat.”
Chinese analysts see the QDR’s designation of their country as a “strategic threat,” along with the U.S. focus on enhancing its Pacific military assets and increasing its long-range strike capability, as clear preparations for a future conflict. The full implications of a U.S.-led China-containment strategy in South Asia are yet to emerge. In an already volatile region, perceptions have a dangerous way of defining reality.
Nepal: Above The Din, King Reframes The Debate
By Sanjay Upadhya
April 24, 2006
King Gyanendra was probably the last person who expected the Seven-Party Alliance (SPA) to jump at his latest olive branch and call off the ever-surging street protests against his direct rule. For one thing, the SPA leaders could not afford to avoid a certain degree of posturing in the interest of self-preservation amid the increasingly strident anti-monarchy sloganeering.
For another, the mainstream political parties, much like the palace, would want to measure how much of the sentiments expressed on the streets could actually be extrapolated as the collective sentiment of the nation. Nepal’s experience with the people’s pulse is far from reassuring.
The People’s Movement of 1990 undoubtedly represented Nepalis’ aspirations for democracy and accountability. However, the riots sparked a decade later by Indian actor Hrithik Roshan’s alleged slander of Nepal and Nepalis did not reflect our overall view of Indian pop culture. Nor could the upheaval triggered in 2004 by Iraqi insurgents’ murder of 12 Nepalis be interpreted as an endorsement of U.S. President George W. Bush’s war against Islamic extremism.
The unpredictability and fickleness of mob psychology are not the only reasons behind the SPA’s belligerence. King Gyanendra’s speech on Friday assured a return to the pre-February 1, 2005 status, when political parties – barring those in power—were already agitating against the monarch’s dismissal of an elected government and his practice of hiring and firing premiers.
Then there is that other imponderable. Until the Royal Proclamation, the Maoists were surging ahead with the urban-uprising phase of their much-touted strategic offensive against the state. By reaching out to the palace at this stage, the SPA would have vindicated the Maoists’ contention that the political mainstream was congenitally predisposed to perilous compromises.
Instead, the rebels are now facing their moment of truth. Will they succeed in roping in the mainstream opposition – or at least a considerable section of the communist constituents—into an avowedly Maoist utopia? Or, grasping the content of the street protests, will the rebels become more energetic in espousing open and competitive democratic republicanism of republican democracy – whatever it is?
What Friday’s royal proclamation did was redraw the battle lines of the political conflict. By returning executive power to the people and urging the SPA to name a new premier, King Gyanendra appeared to have met a major demand of his principal foreign critics. The sense of relief expressed in New Delhi, Beijing, Washington and London was uniformly palpable.
Whether a new multiparty/interim government is formed under the controversial Article 127 or Article 128 or on any other basis may be a bone of contention for the principal domestic players. Those professing a huge stake in Nepal’s security and stability would see the greatest redeeming value in the shape and form reconciliation would assume.
For the palace, the restoration of the House of Representatives could finally emerge as an attractive proposition. The 1990 constitution, after all, envisages the crown as integral a part of parliament as the upper and lower houses. It is unclear whether that would be enough to appease the streets. At another level, it may be beside the point.
Admittedly, the demonstrations Kathmandu Valley has seen over the last three weeks dwarf those of 1990. Moreover, the protests are more widely spread across the kingdom. These realities, however, must be juxtaposed with other principal differences. In 1990, there was a resurgence of democracy across the globe. Philosophically, too, the triumph of liberal democracy and free markets then connoted a sense of finality – the end of history in the memorable words of Francis Fukuyama.
Today, the grand enterprise of democracy building is rooted in the imperative of an enabling state as well as an acknowledgement of local realities. Fukuyama, for his part, has had no problem acknowledging that his exuberance was rather premature. Amid the continuing mass defiance of curfews, more and more people would be tempted to draw parallels between what is happening in Nepal and the French Revolution. King Gyanendra, no doubt, has an eye on that moment of human history. Looking past Louis XVI, his gaze – like that of much of the world—seems fixed on avoiding the fate Marat, Danton and Robespierre subsequently brought upon themselves and their nation.
Nepal: Clarity At Home, Cloudiness Abroad
By Sanjay Upadhya
May 8, 2006
Despite the discordant notes sounded here and there, Nepal’s normalization process has made an agreeable start. Since issues of constitutionalism will remain in the back-seat for a while, the tenure, remit and jurisdiction of the revived House of Representatives will be driven by political imperatives. By unanimously voting for elections to a constituent assembly, which would draft a new constitution, the legislature has broken the state’s stalemate with the Maoist rebels.
By annulling the municipal elections, compensating families of “martyrs” and setting up a judicial commission to probe the royal regime’s excesses, the government has satisfied the short-term circumstances needed to focus on the big picture. For all their bluster, the Maoists, too, seem ready to engage with Prime Minister Girija Prasad Koirala’s government. For each hard-line statement, ostensibly aimed at the more militant party cadres, Maoist supremo Prachanda has come out with soothing words of conciliation. Perhaps it won’t be too long before Prachanda sheds decades of obscurity to take command in full public view. With the mainstream parties and the Maoists warning the people against “royal conspiracies,” it’s clear the palace remains a player. Prime Minister Koirala intends to proceed toward constituent assembly polls after drawing the Maoists in an interim government. There can be no better way of ensuring the rebels’ commitment to the integrity of the process and sanctity of the outcome. The tasks of reaching out to the rebels and drawing up the modalities for the assembly can proceed on parallel tracks.
The discontent within the SPA over the allotment of ministerial portfolios and the speakership of the reinstated lower house cannot be dismissed as a reversion to the parties’ inherent weakness for power. Civil society is entitled to admonishing the political leadership every step of the way. Even the worst critics of the parties and politicians cannot, however, obscure the reality that without their leadership, the streets protests would not have acquired the political legitimacy to succeed.
With its principal objective achieved, the SPA will require a different kind of adhesive to remain relevant. Without proper distribution of responsibility, the constituents cannot be expected to unite behind a common endeavor. A more judicious distribution of ministerial portfolios is essential to maintaining the political balance needed to sustain the open and transparent system envisaged. With the Maoists on board, the challenge of reconciling ideological and procedural disagreements will become more daunting.
Given the politically charged atmosphere, the constituent assembly elections have been primarily linked to the future of the monarchy. In days and weeks ahead, the SPA and the Maoists will no doubt recognize the perils inherent in such a narrow frame of reference. During the drafting phase of the 1990 constitution, such issues as exclusion, oppression, distributive injustice were dismissed as distractions from the larger task of consolidating democracy. The country has paid a heavy price for that haughtiness. These issues hold the key to our collective salvation irrespective of whether Nepal becomes a ceremonial monarchy or a republic. More troubling, however, are the critical questions relating to the external dynamics of Nepal’s conflict. U.S. Assistant Secretary of State Richard Boucher, explaining why he did not meet with the king during his recent visit to Kathmandu, emphasized that the palace had ceased to be a political player. At the same time, Boucher defended his meeting with Royal Nepalese Army (RNA) chief Gen. Pyar Jung Thapa, saying the United States continued to view the military as an important player.
How much of Boucher’s stance on the monarchy stemmed from the political atmosphere prevailing on the streets? What kind of role does the United States envisage for the RNA? Washington elevation of the RNA in its calculations became when then-Secretary of State Colin Powell held talks with the top brass at Army HQ in the absence of a single representative of the elected government of the day. Boucher’s elevation of the military cannot be seen in isolation from domestic efforts to re-brand the institution. What kind of resistance could be expected from within the RNA to any reorganization effort? When the time comes for creating a national army, can the United States, so bitterly opposed to the Maoist political leadership, accept the integration of ideologically driven former guerillas? Persistent reports in the Indian media suggest New Delhi, too, desires to build on its traditional relations with the RNA. How “national” could the military be with Washington and New Delhi vying for influence?
Despite its principal role in defusing the immediate crisis, India has emerged bruised. If there is any consensus among Indians about their latest experience in Nepal, it is that New Delhi has managed to alienate the palace, parties and Maoists. India would certainly prefer a modicum of stability in Nepal in the run-up to the constituent assembly elections to craft a more coherent policy. Will the political and institutional schisms already evident in New Delhi permit one?
The Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) views the latest developments in Nepal as less a defeat for the world’s only Hindu monarch than a moment of glory for the Indian left. The Indian army and the internal security apparatus, for their part, will closely observe the Maoists’ transformation as part of their overall threat perception. New Delhi could find itself sharing Washington’s dilemma vis-à-vis the creation of a national army in Nepal. China, the most silent stakeholder in Nepalese stability, is unlikely to lose its faith in quiet diplomacy. Had the royal regime, behind the heat and dust of the democracy movement, reached any security-related accords with Beijing? If so, how far can the new government go toward revising or even annulling them without discomfiture in public?
This brings us to the crux of the crisis. For all the noise about autocracy, King Gyanendra’s takeover was in large part driven by the urgency of consolidating Nepal’s space between the two Asian giants. The king’s domestic and foreign adversaries succeeded in obscuring that compulsion with the democracy garb, aided in no small measure by the royal regime’s impaired articulation faculties. Whether Nepal retains the monarchy or becomes a republic, its geostrategic vulnerabilities will persist. The storm clouds on horizon threaten to offset the clarity at home.
Nepal: All Not Quiet On The Southern Front
By Sanjay Upadhya
May 29, 2006
A month after King Gyanendra bowed to mass protests and reinstated the House of Representatives (HoR), a constitutionally dead legislature has been exhibiting remarkable political life.
Considering that a government-opposition standoff prevented the winter session of parliament from holding a single session a couple of years ago, the current unanimity is encouraging. Those MPs who were more inclined to use their fists more than their fiery oratory inside the chamber today seem capable of keeping up civility. Perhaps King Gyanendra should be commended for his sustained shock therapy.
Palace-bashing is something the Seven Party Alliance (SPA) has spent little time on. This stands in sharp contrast to the aftermath of the 1990 political change. The reason could be less dignified than a shared commitment to look ahead. From the day he was enthroned, King Gyanendra has heard anything but criticism. The worst the SPA or the Maoist rebels can say now would merely be a tedious reiteration of familiar calumnies.
Furthermore, the SPA and the Maoists have largely desisted from exulting in an air of finality. Deep inside, each is not fully confident of the other’s motive. Publicly, though, each remains confident of molding the other in its spirit, if not in shape.
For all their posturing, the SPA and the Maoists recognize that the royal regime’s failure was not rooted in the palace’s lack of procedural content. The palace’s failure to articulate its convictions will remain a PR model any government would studiously avoid emulating. Clearly, the royal regime’s refusal to acknowledge any association with the Panchayat system was its principal flaw. The return of pre-1990 faces could still have been justified on account of their loyalty to the palace. If Narayanhity Palace was really embarrassed by that other P word, then the last thing it should have done was to revive the zonal administrators.
Contradictions abound under the SPA government, too. Since political expediency will continue taking precedence over constitutionalism in the near term, the HoR Proclamation will remain the locus. By obliterating the government’s royal prefix, taking from the king command of the army and the ability to name his own successor, eliminating royal perks and veto powers and imposing taxes on the king’s income and property, the SPA has succeeded in appeasing the streets in the run-up to the constituent assembly elections.
Predictably, the apparent open-ended tenure of the HoR has rankled the rebels. Despite their opposition, the Maoists will find engagement with the SPA their best route to reshaping the state. As long as his foot soldiers use their R&R to raise funds, Maoist chairman Prachanda can afford to lash out at the SPA’s superciliousness and also claim a stake in government. (According to one newspaper report, he appears to have lowered his sights to the deputy premier’s post.)
On the external front, India has emerged as the principal stakeholder, a status reinforced during Indian Foreign Secretary Shyam Saran’s recent visit to Washington. The State Department spokesman emphasized that Washington and New Delhi were virtually of one mind on Nepal. The National Security Strategy released by the White House earlier this year, after all, lists Nepal as a challenge requiring a regional approach, just like the Israeli-Palestinian issues and the conflicts in the Great Lakes region of Africa.
Since China is unlikely to reverse its full faith in quiet diplomacy, India will determine and drive the public manifestation of regionalism.
What is disturbing, however, is India’s own quandary. The anti-government sections of the political class and the media have been savaging Prime Minister Manmohan Singh’s virtual subcontracting of his government’s Nepal policy to the Communist Party of India (Marxist). The establishment of a secular Nepal has worried not only the Hindu nationalist Bharatiya Janata Party but also Congress leader Karan Singh, the foreign minister in waiting who New Delhi dispatched to Kathmandu when the royal regime was in its dying days.
For many Indians, it seems the world’s only Hindu republic had contemporary relevance. When you hear some newly empowered Nepalese complaining of India’s complicity in pro-Hindu-state demonstrations, you cannot avoid an eerie foreboding – one that transcends whether Nepal remains a ceremonial monarchy or becomes a republic.
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