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Are our opinion writers being true to the big responsibility they hold? This is a tricky question for a columnist to broach. I now have the challenge to settle it without a hint of self-aggrandizing superiority. 

As a columnist, I like to believe that op-ed columns influence how readers think about the issues discussed. But there are people who question whether editorials, columns, and op-eds, the output of arm-chair thinking as they like to call it, really matter. Some argue that people are so deeply invested in political affiliations and affected by personal experiences, they rarely change their stance. And, further, the political insiders who wield a disproportionate influence on policy outcomes hardly get influenced by mere columnists like us. But still, I am using this column to talk about the state of our op-eds, which, to a large scale, represent the state of our intelligentsia.

A case in point is a recent upsurge in pro-monarchy protests all over the country. As far as I know, preparations for them got under way long time ago. Influencers sympathetic to Hinduism and monarchy were being contacted all over the country, asked to be prepared for a ‘big show' in near future, and a strong effort at channelizing the dissent was underway.

The incident of Dolakha Bhimeshwar Mahadev idol's 'perspiring' was utilized to rake up the protests. There is a strong belief in Nepal that sweat beads appearing on that idol is a sign of some great upheaval in the country’s politics. It's a rare phenomenon, happening only once in decades. In the past, whenever that happened, the King used to carry out a Kshama Puja, seeking forgiveness from the god to be saved from the fury.

This definitely was the best setting to launch a protest in favor of monarchy. And the first protest was launched around a month back, a day after the 'sweat beads' appeared.

People are frustrated with the present state of affairs in Nepal. And they trust very few politicians. But do people then really trust the ex-king? If yes, what has swayed the opinion in his favor, in the past 14 years, from the time he had to submit to the democratic parties?

Not only had Gyanendra become unpopular because of his authoritative moves, his son, Crown Prince Paras's reckless behavior had also turned public sentiment against the monarchy. As it is, there was a large section of people who believed that Gyanendra and his family was somehow linked to the massacre that killed late King Birendra’s family.

But there has been an upsurge of opinions in national newspapers recently in favor of the monarchy. The beauty of op-eds is that they take a clear stand. That, there are arguments in favor of or against a particular issue, whether politics or policy related. But most of the opinions in our newspapers seem to disregard that even opinions have to be fact-based. And to ensure that is the duty of our editors.

Let's discuss something that has a strong correlation to the pro-monarchy rallies. Dec 15 this year marked the 60^th anniversary of the coup by King Mahendra. On 15 Dec 1960, Mahendra had sacked Nepal's first parliament and democratically formed government, and jailed the towering leader, BP Koirala. Naturally, this season of the year is flooded with opinions about Mahendra, BP, Panchayat and the coup.

Let's now compare three pieces published recently in Nepali newspapers around this topic. An op-ed in Kantipur daily by Saurabh gave Koirala the title of ‘fifth Beatles’. A difficult read as always—given the writer’s penchant for splattering disjointed references threaded loosely to prove his point—the aim of this piece seems to be to dispute BP’s view as a ‘self-claimed towering figure’ in his autobiography, and to accuse the Congress of forever relying on the crutch of that biography. But Saurabh touches a low when he announces that Congress is a party born to be in the opposition as power is unlucky for it. 'Unlucky', that's right, you read it correct.

In the same daily, Shankar Tiwari wrote another op-ed which tried to establish that Mahendra was power hungry, struck with inferiority complex due to the ‘Super Human’ BP's personality and hence staged the coup. Better than Sourabh's astrological prowess, this article tried hard to re-establish the official line of Nepali Congress at a time support for monarchy has been rising from the ashes. But this piece also fails to quote credible sources for all the dramatic events from the bygone era that has been used to prove the points. The reader can either trust the writer blindly or assume the sources.

Another interesting take on the topic is by Raamesh Koirala, published in the Naya Patrika Nepali daily. In a long piece, written in a nonchalant tone, Koirala disregards the personality conflict theory, and tries to establish that the coup was a result of geopolitical compulsions. Having touched upon the matter-of-fact details of the era, he says BP couldn't prove himself to be a better choice than Mahendra for India and the US. But, in a zest to prove his point that nothing but Machiavellian calculations count in politics, he states that the Tribhuwan Highway was made more meandering and difficult as King Tribhuwan had sold out to India.

While these arguments seem plausible, and are a perfect pitch for a gossip conspiracy theory session, stating something without proof in a national newspaper, I believe, violates some sort of professional decency.

Why are we fretting over these details? After all, opinions are just opinions! This has been the attitude of our editors and writers alike, whenever I have tried to discuss these issues.

But democracy survives on informed decisions by the masses. And unless the opinion makers believe in the big onus that's on their shoulders, it will be near impossible to stop this downward spiral of decadence we face today.

As with most questions of human behavior, the evidence of opinion columns changing opinions is mixed. But there can be no doubt that ideas matter—that powerful messages conveyed in compelling ways can change the course of political debates, movements, and elections.

And of course op-eds matter. So much so that no newspaper is complete without them. But are our op-eds keeping up with the radical upsurge in the standards and expectations of our readers?

Back in 2006, it was a mesmerizing feeling. The euphoria was unbeatable. Just before the elections of the first Constituent Assembly, I had to leave for India. I was still in service then with the Indian Army, and was crossing the border from Bhairawaha. An elderly lady, most probably in her sixties, started interacting with me in the rickshaw we shared.

'Why are you leaving at this time? Why can't you wait for a few more days and go after the elections? This, after all, is not a small event.' She was clearly disappointed by my disregard of the most important political event in Nepal’s history, and she showed it.

The words, the passion, the emotion, the authority, the hope, and the power that she conveyed is etched in my memory as representation of the mindset that we, Nepali people, had at that stage. We were elated by the end of conflict—we were so happy that the war had ended that we almost believed in the utterly ridiculous promises that our politicians made.

Somehow, and rather sneakily, the monarchy was booted out. Personally, I considered this a progress, but the immorality of the process also bred grudges among its supporters.

This was followed by the Madhesh Andolan and the long running conflicts in the CA. In the process, while the CA was also doubling as the parliament, people began to realize that politics in Nepal is still a loathsome chaotic feudal power struggle that thrives in brinkmanship.

Slowly, dreams were shattered, and the intelligentsia, in their naivety, normalized the ugliness of the stupidity, treachery and immorality.

After eight long years, and after one more election, when the constitution was finally promulgated, a new era of hope emerged. And the local elections held almost after two decades had brought new optimism.

We were made to believe that the Singh Durbar had come to our villages, a metaphor used often by our intelligentsia and politicians alike to suggest the decentralization that has come about through state-restructuring.

After all this rollercoaster ride of history in the 21^st century, today, we are in the midst of a crisis yet again. At the center in Kathmandu, we have a government of the party that has a huge majority in the parliament, but infighting between its two chairmen has made it look like a circus. The power struggle has become so illogical and shameful that everything and anything that can be blamed on each other is being penned and named a political proposal for party unity. Ultimately, it has led to a public display of utter nonsense packaged under the name of the communist movement.

The provincial governments haven't been able to justify their existence in past three years, and the local governments, where the people are directly in touch with the state mechanism, have become a hotbed of malpractices.

At the present, our governments, at all levels, are facing a double whammy of incompetence and immorality. Wastage of resources from ill-conceived plans and projects are rampant. At the same time, local politicians are busy exploiting the state and natural resources for personal gains.

For example, many ward chairmen, in the rural municipalities, are owners of bulldozers. And no doubt they spend most of the money from government budget in these bulldozers.

Now, at the end of 2020, in the midst of a pandemic, I find the whole situation befuddling. How did we end up here? Where did we lose track? What's the way out of this vicious circle?

I have spent most of my youth writing optimistically about Nepal's politics. I have vouched for alternative politics in the hope that new and younger leaders would bring new changes in the ecosystem that will in turn nudge institutions involved in nation building.

I have also directly gotten involved with the local government at my hometown, as an advisor, with enthusiasm, in the hope that if we lay the foundation now, we will build a better future for generations to come.

But things obviously did not work as we had envisaged or were made to believe. And from personal experience, I can say that the politicians are not the only ones to be blamed.

Nepali society has a high level of tolerance for corruption, and no regard for efficiency and competence. This attitude dominates the way our institutions function, including our government and private agencies. Is there a way out? How do we challenge this?

The only way out of this dark tunnel is for Nepal's educated youths to take the onus. Things won’t change unless we demand respect for competence from ourselves, from the institutions we are involved in, and our society. Unless we stake claim in political and social leadership, unless we dirty our hands and step out of our comfort zone, we do not have the moral authority to expect as much from politicians. For unless we do away with this immorality and incompetence, we are doomed.

The indicators from the mass rallies in support of monarchy are not good. We definitely don't want to jump into the fire from the frying pan.

The post-1990 era in Nepal, following the first people’s movement, has seen a surge of ‘independent citizens’ voices’. Press freedom and liberalization were among the remarkable changes the new democratic government brought. Hopes were high, and dreams were soaring.

But looking back after three decades at the years that followed, we can easily see the great divide that this phase has reinforced. Absence of an active royal family and the Panchayat elites did not automatically make Nepal a democratic haven. Economic liberalization became an opportunity for the select few business families to multiply their wealth through monopoly trading without putting the wealth into production or job creation. As of 2020, only 15 percent people are employed in industries. From three percent in 1992, it went up to 10 percent in 2000, and the graph has since been almost flat. Liberalization was hijacked by the nexus of wealthy businessmen and politicians, and nothing was done to strengthen the fundamentals of the economy.

As a result, Nepal’s economic state remains precarious, and almost 40 percent of GDP is dependent on remittance sent by youth working overseas in dangerous conditions.

Another big promise of the early nineties was of the democratic changes Nepali Society was expected to accommodate. We had INGOs and foreign-aided Nepalis penetrating the countryside with a missionary zeal. The change that was supposed to come from the grassroots was rather managed by those centered in Kathmandu who hardly had any connections to the grassroots.

As a result, we had an era of lost opportunities, misplaced priorities, unnervingly foolish initiatives, ineffective and inefficient wastage of precious funds, and a pilferage in the name of the oppressed and the poor.

In the 21^st century, till now, Nepal has undergone major political shifts. The political revolution against the Kathmandu-centric power, leading to the removal of monarchy and heralding of a federal republic, brought yet another era of promise. But the reality bit back harder this time. And we are in the midst of an anarchy characterized by policy shortsightedness, cheap populism, and mediocre and uninspiring politicians.

As I write this column ruminating about the disappointing path of democracy in Nepal, votes are being counted in the US elections. America had elected Trump as its president four years back, and this time also, he is in a neck-and-neck struggle for the top post with Democrat Joe Biden. And, gauging by the social media, not surprisingly, the elections in the US have Nepali intelligentsia hooked.

This brings us to a major dichotomy that I believe Nepal is facing. Some months back, when Nabaraj BK, a boy from a so-called lower caste, was beaten to death by upper caste people in Rukum, it had taken more than a month for the Dalitlivesmatter hashtag to trend in social media. That too did not happen organically, but was inspired by George Floyd's murder in the US and the resultant protests the world over.

By the very nature of this era fueled by technology, it has become easier to get news from Florida and France than from your own village in rural Nepal. It has become easier to understand what the white male American is thinking than what goes on in a Dalit Nepali’s mind in Rukum. And because of this great divide, what runs in the people's minds is biased towards the big and the global.

Social media, media, and the intelligentsia are supposed to influence the polity for the society’s betterment. But till the time we have people with foreign degrees and no exposure to the harsh realities of hinterland Nepal as opinion builders and decision makers, this fundamental fault line in our democratic ecosystem cannot be wished away.

The politicians know they can take the media and the intelligentsia for a ride because the inputs of the intelligentsia aren't based on real insights from the ground but are rather pretentious preaching of self-righteous snobs or the ranting of the privileged ones. To strengthen democracy, we need to look for a way to bridge this divide. We have to find a way, through the education system, to build democracy for the bottom up. And this new silent revolution has to be led by the country’s youth.

“Why is the Nepal Army making the Indian Army Chief its honorary General?”

This was the question asked to me at a teashop in Waling, my hometown, recently. I was fumbling for an answer myself. Not the least because this strange puzzle called Indo-Nepal relations has been at the center-stage of my life so far.

Apart from my own experience with the Indian Army, the question is pertinent also because a lot has happened under the Oli government this year. We have had a dramatic turn of events in our relationship with India.

Waling is the biggest town of Syangja-2 constituency of the federal House of Representatives, represented right now by Padma Aryal, the sitting minister for Land Management, Cooperatives and Poverty Alleviation. The minister was seen presenting framed map of Nepal, as a trophy, to the Who's Who of Nepali politics. This was after the government released a new map that includes the 300 square km land from the northwest end of the country that had gone missing suspiciously some decades ago.

In an interview that I took for a Live Talk Show, on the day the new emblem of Nepal government with the new map was approved by the lower house with a thumping majority, the minister had presented this cartographic development as her government's biggest political achievement. Was she too busy with the map, or had her ministry worked out a strategy to deal with Covid-related poverty and unemployment issues? She did not have a data-based answer, nor a promising plan.

Oli had taken his verbal bellicosity with India to a new low by appearing to mock the Indian national emblem. Although it created a puerile support in Nepal among the masses, for a more mature audience, it came out foolish.

I wasn't surprised by the way politicians behaved. But what General Narawane, the Chief of Army Staff of the Indian Army, did at this time was disappointing.

My father was a Nepali-origin Gorkha soldier and he took us along for education in various places in India. Dehradun and Darjeeling, places where I did my schooling, each has a sizable chunk of Nepali-speaking people. They are the Indian Gorkhas in military parlance now.

As a 'line boy'– the name given by the British to sons of the soldiers who grew up away from the rustic hardships of the rural countryside of Nepal, I understood the Gorkha Regiment from the inside.

I joined as an officer some years later. Although I had options to join any of the regiments in the Army, or even Navy or Air force, I preferred my father's regiment. I couldn't think of the Indian Army beyond the Gorkhas. After some years, not being able to justify to myself the rationale of serving in a foreign army, I refused to serve. As a Conscientious Objector, I was framed for desertion, and dismissed from service by a Court Martial.

Through this thick and thin, however, I have had very little to complain against the Officers of the Indian Army, my Brothers at Arms once. It's one of the most professional armies in the world, with amazing young leaders leading it from the front. Most importantly, there is a respect for the Gorkhas among the officer cadres that is unparalleled to any other creed of warriors. In the academy, newly commissioned officers compete ferociously to join one of the seven regiments of the Gorkhas.

This respect is hard earned by the Gorkhas, through commitment, loyalty and display of sheer mettle, grit and courage, for over two hundred years, all over the world. A Gorkha soldier is not a war-making machine, but he is the best a military leader can hope for to get the job done, with least of complaints.

What made Gen Manoj Naravane forget this sizable chunk of ferocious warriors who are part of the army that he commands? I couldn't arrive at a logical conclusion. The only plausible reason I could think of was that the Indian Army has now been heavily politicized, and the Generals have started becoming too ambitious for their boots. They are now keen to tow the lines of the politicians.

On the map issue, Gen Naravane had accused Nepal government of acting at behest of 'others', meaning China. In five months, it has come full circle and now he will be conferred the rank of an honorary General of the Nepal Army by the President of Nepal.

Has he, the Indian Army, or the Indian government issued an official apology? If not, why is the Nepal Government making him a General?

I had asked a young researcher studying BP Koirala for her Mphil an easy question: Did she find anything new about him that we haven’t yet been told? Her answer was naive for my taste: she said she found him ‘double-faced’.

I didn't mince words to say that she was being utterly naive. Humans are complex in all manners, more so in matters of morality in politics.

The foundation of Nepal's Grand Old Party was laid in India, inspired by the Indian National Congress. Established as an elite intellectual group in 1885, the INC slowly evolved into a political force, with years of rigorous deliberation. By the time the Koirala sons were growing up in exile, the Congress under Nehru-Gandhi was preparing for succession of power after the British. It was a movement that united India.

Young Nepali students studying in India started organizing themselves and finally, BP was able to unite three different parties—two in Varanasi and one in Kolkata to form the Nepali Congress.

From letters and diaries of that time of the legend himself and those of friends and relatives, the researcher had concluded that BP was double-faced. I laughed out loud. After research of many years, she had finally found out that BP the legend was also human.

I admire BP for the liberal-semi anarchist-renaissance man he was. King Mahendra punished a popularly elected government and established People's Panchayat—different name for Democracy by King's Grace, and put BP in jail. His prison years were well spent in creating some of the masterpieces of Nepali literature.

He was learned, and had the gumption to take up challenges and live for those. But his charisma was more of a romantic sort. Some calculations went wrong, and many decisions backfired. His health too did not support him much, and the rest is history: he has become the most-hyped leader in Nepal with very less real impact and hardly a legacy to speak for him.

In politics, there isn't much that has come from BP after King Mahendra hijacked history, but the real question is: why could Mahendra himself not become the Lee Kuan Yew of Nepal?

Lee came to power in Singapore around the time of Mahendra's coup. And he was the prime minister for 31 years, till 1990, drawing strong parallels with the Panchayat rule of 30 years in Nepal.

What worked there and what did not here? This is an important question to be asked.

A simple explanation that has been tried is that Nepal is bigger and more complex. To some extent, this may be true. It may be unjust to draw parallels between city states like Singapore and a geographically difficult country like Nepal. Even the ethnic diversity is far more precarious in Nepal.

But blaming it all on the environment and structure is not the right approach. However difficult the task of sorting this mess, somebody has to get it done.

In the book Makers of Modern Asia published in 2014, Ramchandra Guha hasn't included BP among the 11 leaders profiled: Gandhi, Nehru and Indira Gandhi from India; Chiang Kai Shek, Mao, Zhou, and Deng from China; with Ho Chi Minh, Sukarno, Lee, and Bhutto closing the list.

Some intellectuals in Nepal were disgruntled that no Nepali was included in the list; they believed at least BP deserved a mention. But I thought his exclusion was justified.

The fact that in the 70-plus years of post Rana rule, we do not have a name that can be taken as the maker of an era speaks volumes about the lack of leadership Nepal has lived through. We have names that have been in power for a long time, like Mahendra, or leaders who have been able to keep politics centered on them for long, like Prachanda, but hardly anyone whose legacy will have an enduring impact.

In Nepal, there is a class of intellectuals whose main job has been to normalize all kinds of eccentricities that the political class has thrown at us. They are so tightly engaged with the ruling elite that knowingly or unknowingly, they are hardwired to take side of the status quo, and justify inefficiency, ineptitude, and lack of character among leaders.

This class of intellectuals has long been arguing that the hunger for a charismatic leader is misplaced, and development of healthy institutions is at the core of long-term progress. There are no fundamental flaws in this line of thinking, but it ignores one important factor: the context and the demographic window of opportunity. There can be no doubt that a charismatic leader with high integrity can make a real impact.

Politics and culture are not homogenous, and hence the mindset pushed by Western thinking ignores our context completely. The institutions of the West developed gradually while those of most new states were put into form immediately.  

In non-Western nations, institutions have been made strong only by extraordinary dedication of legendary personalities. Saying that Nepal's case will be an exception, is stretching the idea of institutions too far. The fact is that we need a Lee Kwan Yew to sort out the mess we are in, and however hard the punditry tries to make a case against it, without a transition to a presidential system of governance, we are doomed.

There has been a never-ending debate whether circumstance or personality shapes events. In case of Singapore, Lee settled the argument in his favor through sheer grit, and dedication. Singapore is a living statement now which the world can't disregard with any pile up of words or clever punditry.

Trump is an exception, not the norm. This is all I can say to the status quoists in Nepal who have made Trump a weapon against the idea of a change to a directly-elected presidential system. The day Trump got elected in 2016, the world was shocked. But America was fractured, probably, irreparably. America, the self-declared torchbearer of democracy, seems to have little idea of the damage the Trump phenomenon has done to the cause of democracy the world over. And it has definitely given fuel to the idea that democracy for the sake of democracy should not be made a holy cow. The fast progress of China, with a different but robust system, is adding fire to the fuel.

I am no admirer of the Chinese model, but I have my reasons for advocating directly-elected president for Nepal. I believe this will make Nepal more democratic, not less, fundamentally changing the nature of party politics in Nepal. And without uprooting the deep-rooted blind (almost religious) loyalty to political parties, we can’t hope for any progress towards a real democracy. The society is divided along party lines. Over the years, the fault-lines have been deeply engraved into our cultures, norms and rituals. Even in marriages and last rites affiliation to political parties take precedent.  

Our socio-political ecosystem is murky. General public depend on party middlemen for all kinds of work. Starting from normal administrative paperwork like getting one’s citizenship card, to complex issues like getting grants for projects, political affiliations take center-stage. And the rudimentary web of traditional privileges and discriminations is superimposed on this political arrangement. The caste hierarchy plays out strong, too, within the political system thus practiced. In a nutshell, deep-rooted loyalty to political parties is leading to non-democratic power structure and a sense of impunity among the politicians.

Recent displays of disgusting power struggles within the ruling party, the bending of rules with utter disregard for the spirit of the constitution or will of the people, and insensitivity to criticism, all point to a failure of the present parliamentary system in Nepal. Years of political experimentation and compromises have made Nepal a patchwork without a clear vision. How will the directly-elected presidential system fundamentally change the nature of Nepali politics? 

The kind of political decay Nepal has been witnessing for many years has rendered our constitutional institutions weak, and political parties have subverted the spirit of democracy by buying off courts, media, private sector, and organized citizens through deep strategic and systematic investments. These bulwarks of democracy have been compromised. The result is this eerie silence and blind reverence we see today. 

No alarm bell goes off amid such a decay, as there is no single moment—for instance, a coup or a declaration of martial law—that can be understood as a step towards dictatorship. In Nepal, there has hardly ever been an independent civil society. And those few who oppose a different course are either labeled opportunists or dismissed as extremists who have no patience for the slow and steady democratic progress. Everything takes time is the repeated excuse of the status quoists in Nepal. But sadly, their own statement is a testimony to the fact that even an irreparable decay is gradual progress and raising alarm bells right at the beginning is a must. 

All in all, Nepal is on the highway to hell. The parliamentary system and deep-rooted nexus of political parties are the main culprits. In the absence of strong democratic norms, the idea that buying out a dozen MPs or so is enough to make or break a government, will keep fueling the idea of misadventure in top politicians and breed systemic instability. This, in turn, will make positional authority of some senior leaders so strong that they cannot be challenged by any force under the sun, and if they join hands, they gain powers almost heavenly in nature—they, in fact, come to be above the law of the land. 

A directly-elected presidential system, on the other hand, will lead to a more robust system of political parties that support performance and merit as the parties will be forced to nominate popular candidates as government head. Nepal will continue to add 10-15 percent new voters every time over the next few decades. And this number can sway any election. But under the present system, with the parties hijacking the nomination process, this people power becomes insignificant.

How do you assess a country’s political situation between elections? It’s probably through the media, the social media included. Nepal at this time is in the perfect in-between-the-elections phase to study politics outside the elections.

The last set of elections was held almost three years ago. The context was interesting.

Nepal entered the elections after more than a decade of transition politics marred by non-democratic politicking, power struggles, and brinkmanship.

The conflict and the transition era did two fundamental damages to Nepali politics. It normalized a state of non-performance for the polity in the name of the delicate situation. It even made acceptable what should have been considered a mockery of common sense—the voting for the post of prime minister was conducted inconclusively 17 times.

Such a ridiculous disregard for the imminent social and political problems was normalized, and almost established as the only thing that politics was supposed to be engaged in.

One other thing this transition politics did that is detrimental to the basic concept of constitutionalism and democracy, was the hijacking of authority by the top leaders in the name of High Level Political Mechanism. This became a means of consolidating power at the top, undemocratically, in all the parties. The fundamental feudal character of Nepali political parties became indomitable.

This kind of an ad-hoc arrangement stopped all avenues of growth for second-rung leaders in all major parties. As a result, the leaders of the next generation like Gagan Thapa and Yogesh Bhattarai, who should by now have been among the ones leading their parties, are still being treated like kids.

With a tedious decade-long limbo named transition politics over, Nepal had entered the elections with this permanent damage to democracy.

But Nepal’s public has been both wise and patient in treating the politicians. The armed struggle had scared the established urban elites enough without directly impacting their lives. In Kathmandu, it was considered like something happening not just in a remote area, but also in a remote era. The Kathmandu urban elite knows and believes that most of Nepal still lives two centuries behind, and it’s the main secret of their privileges. They get disproportionate access to resources meant for the whole country because of this.

The blockade happened in their living rooms, however. And it had a more lasting impact than the decade-long Maoist armed struggle or the political anarchy of more than a decade that followed.

So, when Nepal went into the elections, Modi was the villain, and Oli was the savior. But political stability was the driving force that consolidated people’s choice.

An overwhelming majority of almost two-thirds is wasted. There is almost no scope of a miraculous face saving now, with more than half the tenure of this government gone by in cruel skullduggery and careless comical theatrics.

The covid crisis has exposed to the general public that accepting non-democratic, incompetent manipulators as the country’s leaders costs us jobs, wealth, and lives too.

But what do representative voices in the social media indicate? People have no hope from our politicians. And the politicians do not shy from putting the blame back on the people.

Will there be a fundamental shift in the nature of our mainstream political parties in three years before the next elections? There is nothing to suggest such a miracle is coming.

People have been wise, in general, in the elections. They know they can’t trust politicians to be truly honest and non-corrupt, but in the larger scheme of things, they have been running the affairs of the state even amid this chaos.

But it’s probably time to read between the lines and question the fundamentals of the system that our politics has evolved into. The nexus of the feudal power structure within the parties and the country’s criminal gangs has been exposed beyond doubt in front of the people.

Should they not look for an alternative now?

The news of reappointment of Kul Man Ghising, the engineer who ended load-shedding, as the MD of the Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) for another tenure, spread like wildfire on social media, bringing a sigh of relief, if not some happiness, among the Kathmanduites. (The news, it turned out, was premature.)

I think this is the right time to tell you a story that begins with a suicide in Syangja district. You can probably classify it as a sociopolitical action thriller at local level, in Nepal.

Some months back, the head of the health department in Galyang municipality was found dead, hanging by a tree. The police concluded it was a suicide.

A news story appeared in an online newspaper, directly blaming the mayor for the suicide. The mayor is of the Nepal Communist Party and the reporter who wrote the report was, obviously, associated with the Nepali Congress.

All hell broke loose in Syangja then.

The gangs of reporters and supporters, from the two parties, declared war on each other.

Soon, the financial disclosure of a fundraising Mahayagya to build a temple, that had taken place ten years ago, was splashed all over the papers. The team that organized it was from the Congress party.

Then, a case of rape was registered against the one of the municipal NCP party chairs, and widely covered in media. It was later discovered that the FIR was registered by a relative, and the woman who was said to be raped wasn't available.

In the next incident, the mayor of the same municipality, who belongs to the Congress party, was in a garage at night, accompanied by some boys, getting his vehicle repaired. Someone appeared there and a brawl ensued. The newcomer was drunk and had attacked the mayor’s boys first.

And then the midnight breaking story appeared in many online papers, that the mayor had beaten a boy, the drunk newcomer, black and blue, which, of course, wasn’t true.

And the action thriller continues. This, I believe, isn’t limited to Syangja. Local politics all over Nepal is being done like this. There is no rule of law, and no independent journalism. Politics has criminalized everything in the society, and it’s now taken over completely by the criminals.

Federalism, what was presented as a promising panacea for most ills that ailed Nepal as a nation, has ended up being a joke. The local governments are clueless at best and being run as gang dens at worst, openly collaborating with criminals in plundering the natural resources and terrorizing people.

The provincial governments haven’t been able to even establish their own presence, forget making an impact. They have become an agency for recruitment of the political cadres at different levels.

And, what is worse, nowhere do we see anything meaningful being done to achieve the prosperity that this government at the center promised. Too busy to secure the government's own survival and manage the power struggle within the ruling party, the government with close to two-thirds majority has wasted a historic opportunity.

How did we end up here? Why is this unprecedented opportunity slipping away, teasing us point blank, and we are unable to respond? Why is this criminalization of politics, at every level, accepted as the new normal?

The answers probably lie deep in our society and recent history. But the socio-psychological analysis aside, we can safely lay the blame on the present day politicians.

The only way out of this dark phase is a citizen’s revolt.

If the government decides against retaining the ‘Cool Man’ who broke the criminal load-shedding business nexus at the NEA, Kathmanduites will probably awaken from the slumber and revolt.

In any case, there is no ‘Cool Man’ to break the politico-criminal nexus led cronyism that is pulling the country into a downward spiral.

Nepal has a unique political set up. The critical youth mass, which can drive change, is mostly away or concentrated in Kathmandu. And what we have left in the countryside is not enough to resist any mainstream decadence.