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I stay in Waling, a mid-sized town in the mid hills of Nepal, in Syangja district. Apart from the stretch touched by the Siddharth Highway that runs within the municipality along the river Andhikhola for 12 kilometers, there are hardly other signs of urbanization. But it was given the status of a municipality 24 years ago, when the population was merely 20,000. Ten years ago, when a local cyber cafe had put a WiFi connection for the first time and my laptop at home could catch the signals, I was amazed with joy. In the 10 years that followed, my grandmother learnt to use Facebook and Viber, and talk to her family members spread all over the world.

The transitions we have gone through in such a short time as a society are amazing. But, apart from the changes that have been forced by the global technological flux, has there been an effort directed towards a transformation guided by clear vision of what we want to achieve as a society? There are no such signs.

I got engaged with the civil society, the local government and the youths in many different ways. Through an advisory role in our municipality following the 2017 local elections, I observed the functioning of our local government closely. The signs were disappointing: haphazard decision-making, mostly guided by personal gains and party politics, and no sense of accountability. Almost all the decisions were a bargain between the influential players, and there was hardly a drive to push for collective goals for the society’s long-term benefit.

Dejected at the state of affairs, I wanted to do things on my own. As I initiated some social projects, I got a first-hand feel of the mindset that has corrupted our society. To promote the town as a tourist destination of its own kind, we formed a non-government organization, and designed a mountain biking event, Waling 100: Ultimate MTB Challenge, surrounding the Andhikhola Valley. The idea was to create an audacious one-day marathon, designed and managed by a local Nepali team, which would be sought after by mountain bikers the world over. We generated funds through local fundraising and support of the municipality. Even though participation was encouraging, the real challenge was in creating a culture of professionalism in the managing team.

Similar challenges have hit the enterprises that I have initiated at the local level. At ‘Himali: Made by Mothers’, a company that I co-founded with some friends, we are working hard to create flexitime employment for women who cannot leave their village for work. The idea is simple: if they can't leave the villages for jobs, get the jobs to the villages. But, with an ecosystem that is not only unsupportive, but at times hostile to entrepreneurship, we have faced hurdles every step. Started last year, 21 women now work with Himali, and we want to expand it to 1,000 in next five years, but the challenges are humongous.

Every day, as I struggle with issues here in this town, and occasionally get a glimpse of how things are being run politically, I often feel that our society, our politics, and the governance structure has derailed from the ideals that were promised. It’s no secret that our politicians have become a bunch of senseless individuals who are justifiably a source of mockery from all. But a close observation leads one to conclude that there is also a lot to be demanded from the younger generations who have been privileged with an access to education.

“At the moment, Nepal is facing a strange kind of mismanagement of resources,” says Prashant Singh, founder chairperson of the Himalayan Climate Initiative, who has worked in developing sustainable solutions for Nepal for many years. “Most of the educated and skilled youths are in the urban areas and the resources they were rooted in are in the villages. As a result, the brains are not being applied to generate value using our naturally disposed resources.” As I roam the jungles that our agricultural lands have turned into in the hinterlands, Singh’s words strike deep. These terrace farms were made arable by our ancestors after hundreds of years of effort, and seeing the land abandoned is deeply painful.

But as I strived to initiate some agricultural projects like fruits farming, beekeeping and a center that can be used for experiential learning by individuals and teams, the gap between our needs and what our education is providing emerged strikingly. It has convinced me that our nation is being run by politicians without any vision for the kind of society they wish to construct, and they are in the game of politics merely to make money and push people around in order to do so.

Looking around desperately for some hope and optimism, across the nation, I don't find any meaningful discussions being carried out on how to organize and mobilize our resources to find new ways of nurturing the production systems that are necessary for social advance and prosperity. The Kathmandu-centric public discourse is dominated by youths who have survived on donor funding, and those who haven’t had to work a bit for their own sustenance. Such unjust dominance has led to an unhealthy ecosystem and the trickle-down effect of ideas, if any, is loaded with misplaced priorities.

The historic March 12 virtual summit between the leaders of the four QUAD members states—Australia, India, Japan, US—signals a decisive ramp-up in cooperation in a grouping mainly tasked with containing China’s spreading influence. The summit has widened collaboration within QUAD, for instance by adding a big economic component to it, and by committing to jointly work for the development and distribution of Covid-19 vaccines to low-income countries—the last step in direct challenge to China’s vaccine diplomacy. 

As the only country in the group that shares a land border with China and that is not a US alliance partner either, India occupies a unique position in the ‘Asian NATO’. India would not have agreed to add teeth to an overtly anti-China grouping had it been more assured of Beijing’s goodwill. The Chinese for their part are furious that India has agreed to ‘encircle’ China. Greater salience of QUAD, they warn, would hinder regional cooperation as it would undermine the more local groups like the BRICS and the SCO, both of which have India and China.

Commentaries in China’s state-controlled media express alarm at the QUAD’s consolidation. Addressing the virtual meet, US President Joe Biden reiterated his commitment to “free and open Indo-Pacific”, again highlighting the US goal of China’s containment. It’s easier said though. Unlike a united China, the QUAD comprises countries occupying four different parts of the globe, adding to the difficulty of collaboration. Plus, it isn’t clear QUAD member states are ready to compromise their important economic bilateral ties with China in order to pursue the grouping’s more strategic goals.

Yet the broader trend of bifurcation between the leaders of the ‘free world’ and China’s autocrats the QUAD’s consolidation signals is unmistakable. This will also have a direct impact on smaller countries near India and China. In the short term, it is hard to see how countries like Nepal, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, all of which have been gracious recipients of Chinese cash, can be persuaded to distance themselves from their chief benefactor. There is another calculus at play as well. As much as these small countries fear China, they fear a traditionally meddlesome India even more. Ruling elites there believe only China offers a credible hedge against India’s regional ‘expansionism’. 

The rise of Chinese mercantilism aside, perhaps most worrying for democrats in the region is the creeping authoritarianism in India, the South Asian giant. Smaller democracies here mirror the political trends in India. For instance, as Modi and the BJP consolidate power by fanning sectarianism in India, Sheikh Hasina government in Bangladesh, the Rajapakshas in Sri Lanka and, arguably, even KP Oli in Nepal have looked to employ similar tactics to cement their hold on power. Free speech is in assault everywhere in the region. Modi’s India is no beckon of democracy other democracies in the region can look up to.

Erosion of India’s democratic credentials plays directly into China’s hands as it continuously expands its presence in South Asia by emphasizing its ‘strictly economic’ model of cooperation. The US, though important, has been too far to matter much to these smaller countries. The QUAD’s consolidation could therefore be a game-changer. For instance, in not a distant future, they may have to choose between ‘democratic’ and ‘authoritarian’ vaccines. In a sign of things to come China has eased visa rules for foreigners who have gotten Chinese jabs. Nepalis who got jabbed with India-made Covax, including this writer, need not apply.  

Technology and time have modernized even the most sacred of rituals. For many Hindus, the electric crematorium has now replaced the traditional funeral pyre, offering a cleaner and more pleasant experience in the process.

In sharp contrast, another tradition remains resolutely untouched by technology and the passage of time. Located in the heart of Kathmandu, the manufacturing unit of Singha Durbar Vaidyakhana Vikas Samiti (SDVKVS), a government-owned entity, continues to bellow thick-black-pungent smoke as it produces ayurvedic and herbal formations.

Located in a dense urban locality beside Singha Durbar, Vaidyakhana’s manufacturing unit employs traditional mud-baked cook stoves fed by firewood. When Vaidyakhana states that “medical formulas at SDVKVS are an inherited legacy from the ancients who were pioneers of ayurvedic knowledge and practices,” maybe they misunderstood the traditional cook stoves as part of the inherited legacy. Vaidyakhana should be a modern-day museum, not a four-century-old production facility.

Vaidyakhana claims that its medicines and concoctions make people healthier. Maybe they do. But its production process is also slowly killing those that live around the facility.

Every year the kitchens of Vaidyakhana emit large volumes of smoke that is hazardous to inhabitants of the area, especially young children and the elderly. In the winter months, the soot hangs in the fog, turning the already bad air to almost toxic. The chimney (there are no smokestacks) are of short height, which conveniently hides the facility from public view but also dramatically concentrates pollution within a small radius.

How is it that a pungent smoke bellowing production facility still reliant on technology from four-centuries ago and directly impairing the health of those that live in the area is still allowed to operate in a dense urban locality? The story of the black smoke that spews from the chimneys of Vaidyakhana is a despairing tale of apathy, inequality, and vested interest.

For many years, residents around Vaidyakhana have filed complaints with local authorities, and Vaidyakhana’s management. These complaints have multiplied over the years, particularly as the density of people living in the area has increased. But these complaints have been met largely by disdain. How dare anyone complain against the “inherited legacy” of four centuries?

These complaints have also been easy to ignore because those most affected consist largely of poorer, lower middleclass or transitory residents (like students). They lack the ability to organize, mobilize or rope in other outside support. Most of their complaints have consisted of letters or brief meetings without the ability to follow up or draw attention to the issue.

The smoke bellowing from the chimneys of Vaidyakhana is an illustration of the fact that localized pollution is disproportionately borne by the poorest without the means to build pressure for corrective action. If all the vehicles in Kathmandu were replaced with electric ones, would that be environmental justice for those living under Vaidyakhana’s toxic umbrella? 

The kitchen and manufacturing facilities are a picture of a stunning travel back in time. The factory lacks any mechanised equipment, health and safety records are extremely poor and the production processes still relies on traditional inefficient methods. Vaidyakhana is a classic government-owned enterprise that has outlived its utility. It is hard to imagine the institution ever being profitable. More importantly, it is ironic that with such poor health and safety standards, and a production process that is poisoning its neighbours, Vaidyakhana is producing concoctions that is aiming to enhance the health of its customers. Really, who are we fooling?

Vaidyakhana is an opaque institution. It offers very little information about itself or its products. Its website is barely functional and expresses an air of complete and thorough indifference. Why does such a relic, doing more disservice than good, continue to receive government patronage and pollute with impunity? Greed.

The term “inherited legacy” is nothing more than a euphuism for vested interest. The land where the manufacturing unit is located is several times more valuable than the factory. A complex set of long-held contracts for raw materials granted invariably to the same set of contractors drives the incentives. Judging from the smoke and soot that it emits, even the firewood that they use is third rate.

Toxic smoke cannot be the only exhibition of how we are utilizing “four centuries of experience in the science of ayurveda and herbal formation.” Nepal needs cleaner, safer, and modern facilities to take advantage of its “inherited legacy.”   

Views are personal. [email protected]

“Nothing is written”, concludes Fareed Zakaria’s new book ‘Ten Lessons for a Post-Pandemic World’. As the Covid-19 pandemic tightened its noose on the world over the past year or so, the countries, instead of pooling resources and collectively fighting it, became more divided. The Trump administration said the ‘China virus’ was nothing Americans needed to fear, even as it repeatedly insinuated that the Middle Kingdom deliberately spread the virus to weaken Western countries. China, meanwhile, saw this as a cynical attempt to deflect attention from the Americans’ woeful handling of the pandemic.

As the virus spread, borders were closed even among the single-visa Schengen countries, the most integrated region on the planet. Everywhere, the suspicion of ‘germ-carrying’ foreigners heightened. When the Covid-19 virus was first detected in Nepal in January 2020, among the first demands in the country was that the open border with India be shut. All domestic and international flights were suspended later. Free flow of goods and people, the epitome of globalization, screeched to a halt.

Yet Zakaria says it’s impossible to reverse globalization and free movements of goods, people and ideas. Americans may want more goods to be produced locally to reduce their reliance on the Chinese. But, then, argues Zakaria, the manufacturing will shift from China not to Indiana but to India, another low-cost manufacturing option. Moreover, it’s also not so much a case of the Chinese taking away millions of American jobs as automation rendering them useless.  

Zakaria also plays down the idea that autocracies are better at dealing with pandemics than democracies. If so, the likes of South Korea, Singapore and Taiwan would not have handled the Covid-19 pandemic better than China. It is not the ‘quality of the government’ that matters but its ‘quality’. Nepal’s own dreadful Covid-19 response owed largely to its dysfunctional government.

The other big lesson of the pandemic was that markets are not enough to solve our most pressing problems. Amid the pandemic, without government help, hundreds of millions of people would have been left to fend for themselves and inequality would have exploded. Again, we saw both incompetence and ill-will of the Nepali private sector that wanted to import PPEs into Nepal. Also, evidence suggests that had the government not made Covid jabs free, most Nepalis would have opted out of vaccination.

And oh, remember the daily Ministry of Health Covid-19 bulletins? A dour-faced person reading out hard numbers did not inspire much confidence in people. They were rather angry at the pedantic tone. This is why as important as it is for people to trust experts, if the message is to get through, it is also incumbent upon these experts not to treat non-experts with condensation.

The other great pandemic-time transformation in Nepal was the switch to the digital. During the pandemic even the middle-aged and elderly started using their mobiles to pay their phone and electricity bills. Without Covid-19, such digitization would have taken much longer. At the same time, the forced isolation and the anxiety and depression it induced made us realize our inherent social nature: connecting over Zoom, we discovered, pales in comparison to a face-to-face meeting.

Zakaria expects the liberal international order, which has “bettered the lives of more people than any previous system humans lived in”, to endure in the post-pandemic world. For there is no alternative. He thus ends on a positive note: “The soldiers who died during World War II gave up all a chance to build a better and more peaceful world. So, too, in our times, this ugly pandemic has created the possibility for change and reform”. Yes, nothing is written. If only we learn to heed sound advice.