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 The August 5 abduction and murder of 12-year-old Nishan Khadka followed by the August 6 ‘encounter killings’ of Khadka’s abductees, Ajay Tamang (24) and Gopal Tamang (23), has raised some troubling questions about Nepal Police. The police appear to be responsible, albeit indirectly, for the killing of the little boy and for what many see as cold blooded shooting of the two abductees.

It is hard to believe that our police is so incompe­tent that it has to send threatening SMS to the abduct­ees, making them panic and kill the boy under their control. Former police officials say that is exactly what the cops should not have done. The two abductees were later arrested and taken to a jungle in Surya Binayak on the outskirts of Kathmandu where they were apparently shot dead in cold blood.

Since the police has thus far put out only a weak defense of its action, these allegations seem to have at least some truth. If so, the implications are disturbing. One, it suggests our police force is incapable of handling even routine abduction cases. The little boy’s life in this case could conceivably have been saved had the police not resorted such crude and juvenile threats against the abductees.

Two, the new penchant in the police for encounter killings hints that the cops think they are a law onto themselves. In this particular case, the two abductees were most likely killed because the police wanted to appear as heroes who punished, in the most brazen way possible, the killers of a small kid. In fact, in recent times there have been some other instances of such ‘encounters’ whereby the police have found it more expedient to shoot to death notorious criminals than to take them into custody.

Home Minister Ram Bahadur Thapa, a former Maoist rebel, has apparently given the police a free hand to remove ‘rotten eggs’ of the society. The aim seems to be to strike terror in the hearts of criminals, make them so afraid they shudder even at the thought of committing a crime. He does not seem to care that giving the police such carte blanche makes police personnel liable to abuse their powers, to lead to grave human rights violations, and to promote a culture of impunity. The Nishan Khadka episode will hopefully serve as a cautionary tale. Justice dispended at the end of the barrel of a gun is no justice at all. Nor does trampling on due process make the police any more popular.

The worst part about the parliamentary hear­ing process of the proposed Chief Justice Deepak Raj Joshee was that it was never sup­posed to come that far. If Joshee was unfit to be chief justice, he was surely unfit to be a justice of the Supreme Court as well. With his questionable aca­demic credentials and a history of troubling decisions in lower courts, how did he get through the vetting processes of first the judiciary and then the parliament when he was first nominated for the apex court?

Not just in Joshee’s case but generally too there is a lot of politicking in the appointment of senior judges in Nepal. Not that other supposedly more mature democracies are free from this malaise. The American president invariably appoints Supreme Court judges along partisan lines and the Senate hearing committee is likewise divided along party lines. But where the American and Nepali systems dif­fers the most is that a controversial figure like Joshee, who apparently failed to clear his school leaving exams, would never have been considered for such an important role to start with. (Even Donald Trump’s Supreme Court nominees have impeccable academic and intellectual credentials.)

Another big difference is that while the Nepali par­liamentary hearings are considered no more than for­malities to rubberstamp the names proposed by the executive, similar hearings in more mature democra­cies involve rigorous vetting. This is because the con­cept of separation of powers is already institutional­ized there. On the other hand, the reason there was such skepticism about Joshee’s hearing was because hearing committee members were seen as taking cues from the executive.

On the positive side, the proposal of Joshee as chief justice again highlighted the vital role that the media plays in upholding democratic principles in Nepal. Were it not for front-page exposés of Joshee’s checkered past, the parliamentary hearing committee could have easily waved through his name. (Of course, if the ruling coalition wanted Joshee as chief justice, it was in a posi­tion to successfully push his name in the committee, never mind the vetting process.)

It is thus vital that we put in place a system that keeps bad eggs from contaminating an all-important institu­tion like the Supreme Court. Pluck them out early. The appointment of the head of the supreme law interpret­ing body of the land is not something to be taken lightly.

The manifest lack of cooperation between the federal and provincial governments is a cause for concern for the future the nascent federal republic. The seven provincial gov­ernments think the center, which gets 71 percent of all revenues, is trying to deliberately weaken the prov­inces. In the absence of laws to properly divide taxing rights between the federal and provincial govern­ments, many provinces have imposed their own taxes to fund themselves.

The federal government says that such arbitrary taxing is ‘unconstitutional’. It has written to provincial governments to roll back new taxes. For instance it had to ask provinces 1, 3 and 4 to discontinue their ‘District Export Tax’ levied on movement of forest, agro and mine products. Province 5 has passed a mandate to impose a tax of between Rs 160 to Rs 320 on Indian vehicles, again by stepping on dicey legal grounds.

While the provinces have in some cases agreed not to impose these taxes, in other cases they have refused to back down. Province 2 Minister for Physical Infra­structure Jitendra Prasad Sonal recently accused the central government of trying to dismantle the federal setup by taking away all the important rights from the provinces. Taxes are in fact just a part of the broader dispute between the different tiers of government.

Province 2 Internal Affairs Minister Gyanendra Kumar Yadav has instructed the chief district offi­cers of the eight districts in the province to issue lin­eage-based citizenship certificates to those eligible under the Nepal Citizenship Act 2006. But the CDOs could not obey him as there are no requisite laws. No doubt these laws should have been drafted on time by the federal legislature. But it was also wrong of a pro­vincial minister to issue such a directive on citizenship, which falls under the ambit of the federal government.

The transfer of staff is another sticking point. Many civil servants used to serving in Kathmandu are reluc­tant to go work in provinces. Yet the provincial gov­ernments still complain that they cannot choose their own employees. Local governments, too, are forever complaining about lack of laws, manpower and money.

Whatever the filings of the local and provincial gov­ernments, the federal-level ministers and bureaucrats are clearly uncomfortable with the idea of decentral­ization of power and resources away from Kathman­du. This unitary mindset must change, and soon, if the federal formula in Nepal is to succeed.

The slapping of extra c on inter­net services, in addition to a two percent increase in taxes on voice calls, may at the outset seem justified. Way too many hours are wasted every day in useless chats over social media, and the cheaper it gets to call people, the greater the scope for abuse of telephones and mobile phones too. But that would be a myopic view.

In this country of under 29 million people there are over 37 million mobile phone subscriptions. Of course, many subscribe to more than one plan. Yet it is note­worthy that overall internet penetration in Nepal has crossed 61 percent, and at least half the population is believed to carry smartphones. These datasets suggest that people from all walks of life, and from all econom­ic backgrounds, are using internet and mobile phones.

Yes, there is some wastage of time online. But these amenities also create a wealth of opportunities for everyone. With the greater penetration of phones and internet, vegetable farmers in rural areas can now directly negotiate with the wholesalers, thereby cutting out the middlemen who typically pocket 15-20 percent of the sale value. Cheap calls and internet voice ser­vices allow the families to stay in regular touch with their sons and daughters toiling abroad; there can be no substitute for physical presence of your loved ones, but the voice and images transmitted over Skype is the next best thing. TED talks and education courses offered over YouTube make Nepalis more knowledge­able and better prepared for modern job market.

If fact, there are countless other productive and cre­ative uses of internet and phone services. Uganda ear­lier this year imposed a ‘social media tax’, as most of its citizens were using social media platforms to “spread gossip”. In the view of many Ugandans, the real reason for the tax is that the government of President Yoweri Museveni, who has been in office continuously for 32 years, wants to stifle dissent. Could the Nepali govern­ment, which is also increasingly accused of authori­tarian tendencies, also be up to no good? By increas­ing taxes the ruling communist party is in fact going against its own election manifesto.

Rather than luxuries, internet and phones have become modern-day necessities without which it is hard to function. Again, the rich folks will easily be able to afford the extra 13 percent tax. It is the less well-off, the proletariat whose cause the communist party champions, who will struggle to pay.