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Lack of experience is one reason behind the failure of the Nepali Congress to play the role of an effective opposition. Nepali Con­gress leader Gagan Thapa admitted as much (See Interview). In fact, in over 28 years since the 1990 democratic change, the Congress has been in power for nearly 20, barring brief spells of active monarchy and short-lived CPN-UML-led governments.

Governments in Nepal changed after an average of nine months until the formation of the second Oli gov­ernment in February 2018. Congress or communists, the opposition is just not used to waiting patiently for the government to serve out its five-year term, which is primarily why no post-1990 government could survive for long. No surprise that Congress leaders are getting antsy after less than a year in the opposition’s bench; they have already had enough of the Oli government.

But they have no other option. Yes, they could align with the rightist forces campaigning for the restoration of the Hindu state and possibly even the monarchy, and there is growing pressure for them to do so from the grassroots. In the most unlikely scenario, with the help of these rightist forces, and possible support of one of our two big neighbors, they could conceivably engineer a divide in the ruling Nepal Communist Party. But such short-termism will backfire.

True, the government of KP Sharma Oli has failed to meet public expectation, and some of its actions have betrayed its ambivalence about democratic free­doms. But then, as Gagan Thapa suggested, the Con­gress should also learn to play the role of a responsi­ble opposition. In fact, all its moves appear reactive. After Dr Govinda KC sat down for yet another hunger strike, it wanted the government to fulfil his demands. But couldn’t it have raised a strong voice in the par­liament against tinkering with the Medical Education Bill before Dr KC started his 16th fast-unto-death? The same pattern—initial apathy followed by righ­teous anger—marked its handling of other high-profile national cases like Nirmala Pant and the grand corrup­tion in the national flag-carrier.

For the democratic system to work its major political actors have to be adept at playing the roles of both the government and the opposition. As interna­tional experience shows, if a government can serve out its full term, the one after it is also likely to. Meantime, why doesn’t the Nepali Congress work on strengthen­ing its organization and putting its leadership under greater scrutiny?

The crackdown on the ‘illegal’ operators of two ride-hailing apps, Tootle and Pathao, started only when local cabbies complained that they were seemingly being put out of business. Tootle has been in operation for two years. Pathao has been around for just four months. Between them, the two have around 30,000 registered ‘riders’, the owners of private two-wheelers who get paid for taking people around town. Strictly speaking, the two services are illegal. An old law bars private vehicles from doubling as taxies. It is disingenuous of Tootle and Pathao to try to escape oversight by claiming they are only app-developers.

But if there was ever a case of a baby being thrown out with the bathwater this had to be it. If these ride-hailing apps were operating in a grey zone, the focus should have been to better regulate them, and bring them under the proper tax net. They could have been given some time. But suddenly making thousands of vehicles that people relied on for daily transport out of their reach was, in effect, restricting their freedom to travel.

Following the ban, one line of argument was being repeated over and over on social media. The cabs are expensive partly because they seldom go by the meter. And many commuters don’t feel comfortable in the overcrowded public transport. The bike-hailing apps catered to this middle-range customers composed largely of women, mid-ranking professionals, students, and people with disabilities. And most were satisfied customers.

For their own good, Tootle and Pathao should stop pretending they are not into transport business and agree to be regulated. For instance, it is not clear how much tax they pay. Is each of their transaction taxed or do they only pay a nominal lump sum? But the cabbies are in no place to accuse Tootle and Pathao of taking away their bread and butter when they themselves are openly fleecing the people—and supposedly with the connivance of some in the government. Thankfully, Prime Minister KP Oli seemed to have enough sense to overturn the ban following immense public criti­cism. One good thing the row did was highlight the sorry state of public transport in Kathmandu. Banning innovation that enhances public mobility is no solu­tion. Following the overturn of the ban, the next line of action should be to make our public transport provid­ers more accountable, be they freewheeling ride-hail­ing companies or overcharging taxies.

Dr Govinda KC had no option but to start yet another fast-onto-death, his 16th, this time from Ilam in the eastern hills. He had promised to do so if the federal par­liament’s Education and Health Committee did not endorse the version of the Medical Education Bill that was prepared in consultation with the crusading orthopedic surgeon. On Jan 9, the committee endorsed a different version of the bill, in which key points in the previous version were tweaked mendaciously. Ergo, Dr KC’s 16th hunger strike.

Among the major tweaks was an insertion of a pro­vision whereby both Tribhuvan University and Kath­mandu University will be able to grant affiliations to new medical colleges. Dr KC wanted to cap the number of medical colleges each could oversee at five. Short of both money and manpower, the two universities are struggling to effectively monitor even the operation­al medical colleges under their jurisdiction. Another tweak clears the way for the prospective medical col­leges that have already obtained a ‘letter of intent’ from the Ministry of Education to get new affiliations.

The bill the committee passed is also missing a firm commitment to establish at least one medical college in each of the seven provinces, which was another of Dr KC’s main demands. Clearly, the mighty ‘medical mafia’ that the doctor likes to rail against has once again prevailed. Senior ruling party leaders have invested in many of the proposed medical colleges and stand to personally benefit from the tweaks in the Medical Education Bill. In the parliamentary commit­tee that cleared it, 14 of the 18 members were from the Nepal Communist Party. Such conflict of interest has become a routine affair for the communist-controlled executive and legislative.

It is depressing to see people’s representatives serving themselves rather than their constituencies. This, again, is nothing new. But we expected better of the strongest government in Nepal’s democratic history, which came to power on the promise of ‘prosperity for all’. The first commitment of the avowed socialists should have been to ensure affordable healthcare and education for all Nepalis. Yet an ageing and frail doctor has had to repeatedly put his life on the line to remind the government of its basic duty. If the ruling party wants to retain public support, the full parliament should reject the bill and spare Dr KC yet another ordeal.

In some democracies, lying under oath is a jail-wor­thy offense. English novelist Jeffery Archer was imprisoned in 2010 for lying in a libel case. More recently, Michael Cohen, American President Donald Trump’s lawyer, was sentenced to three years in prison after he lied to the Senate. In other democ­racies, like Nepal, the offenders tend to get away with it, as Minister for Tourism, Culture and Civil Aviation Rabindra Adhikari will be hoping.

Adhikari tried to mislead the parliamentary sub-committee investigating the opaque transac­tions related to the purchase of two aircraft from Airbus. Asked by the sub-committee on why he had sanctioned payment on behalf of the national flag-carrier even though the procurement process was riddled with flaws, the minister replied that he was acting on the advice of Auditor General Tanka Mani Sharma. But Sharma, appearing later before the same sub-committee, said that he had offered Minis­ter Adhikari no such advice. As Adhikari has refused to comment on Sharma’s denial, there are grounds to assume his guilt.

We expect better of a public servant. We also expect accountability. Will the Public Accounts Committee (PAC), of which the sub-committee was a part, now seek punishment for the lying minister? And what will happen to others like the Nepal Airlines Gener­al Manager Sugat Ratna Kansakar and over 25 senior government officials who in this case have been found guilty of violating the Public Procurement Act? Senior PAC leaders have already distanced themselves from the probe, perhaps because investigating it could earn them the ire of their party leaders. There is thus con­siderable doubt that the PAC will act on the recom­mendations of the sub-committee.

The CIAA, the country’s chief anti-graft body, can launch an investigation only after the PAC’s go-ahead. It is vital to get to the root of this mammoth corruption case. The sub-committee concluded that over Rs 4 bil­lion was embezzled during the procurement of the two aircraft, with the involvement of everyone from sitting ministers to the chiefs of the Citizen Investment Trust and the Employees Provident Fund. But with friends in high places, will they be prosecuted?

Prime Minister KP Oli has repeatedly assured his fel­low citizens that no corrupt official will be spared and no one will be allowed to come in the way of his pet national prosperity agenda. He now has a chance to prove just that.