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 Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli returned home on June 16 from a nine-day visit to a number of European capitals. Both Oli and his office claimed the visit was a success. The PMO issued a long statement recounting his successful engage­ments, which looked more like a detailed itinerary. Surely the prime minister and his entou­rage had a busy schedule, yet the visit raised more questions than it answered.Let’s start with his trip to the United Kingdom. While one could argue about the wisdom of meet­ing outgoing Prime Minister The­resa May, what sticks out as a sore point is Oli’s failure to meet the British monarch. Our mandarins should have pressed their Brit­ish counterparts for a meeting with the Queen. The inability to ensure diplomatic reciprocity is a serious failure—particularly when even low-ranking British officials routinely meet our PM and the President.

Despite all the hype about marking 203 years of diplomatic relations, Oli had to settle for a meeting with Prince Harry, who is sixth in line to the British throne. By our prime minister’s own admission, the UK also cold-shoul­dered Nepal’s proposal to review the 1947 tripartite agreement gov­erning the recruitment of Nepalis into the British Army.

The interview with the BBC was ill-advised too. Why would Prime Minister Oli agree to an interview that focused on the issue of traffic jam on the Everest? It would have been more fitting for the Tourism Department’s spokesperson.

Oli’s trip to France was also anything but memorable. He did not meet French President Emmanuel Macron and failed to sign the two agreements his minister for Information and Communications had pushed for.

Lapses during the Europe vis­it are a result of poor planning, lack of accountability and par­ty functionaries prevailing over career officials. Overall, these are symptoms of a severe weakening of state capability and an absence of adequately-trained human resources in the public sector.

Post 1990 mess

There is a convergence of opin­ion on the erosion of the Nepali state’s capability post-1990. Anecdotal evidence suggests that seems to be the case in many areas. That process picked up pace in the post-2006 arrange­ment—as political accommoda­tion and expediency took priority over state principles, expertise and experience.

Many argue that despite its flaws, and the uneven play­ing-field the Panchayat regime created, it did promote a certain level of meritocracy. They point to high-profile diplomats and plan­ners the system nurtured; despite its authoritarian structure, it fos­tered a learning culture and even tolerated dissent within certain confines—while making long-term strategic investments that the regime considered important. I am no apologist for the Panchayat era, but there is no harm in pick­ing good lessons from the past.

Broadly speaking, a state’s capa­bility is its ability to govern inter­nally while projecting strength externally—reflected in the nature and level of engagements abroad. Internal governance encompasses the abilities to deliver results for citizens, bureaucratic processes, and maintenance of social cohe­sion, ideally through democratic processes.

While the government’s abili­ty to collect taxes and increase development spending in terms of sheer volume has increased since the 1990s, anecdotal evidence suggests a waning of state capa­bility to deliver. Having a bigger revenue base and the ability to earmark an increasing amount of money for different projects is not enough; being able to spend it meaningfully is a better indicator of state capacity.

Even though this government projects bold ambitions, it has not made steady efforts to build state capacity to deliver on its prom­ises. Again, some of us might be confused with the government trying to legislate on internal affairs better—as reflected in the rush to introduce different laws. But that’s not the same as having the capacity to turn those intents into reality.

Short-termism

The point being that there are inadequate human resources within the government system to follow through on the high-pitched rhetoric around pros­perity and good governance—and the government is doing little to generate skilled human resources. For instance, rail­way connectivity seems to be our national priority, yet what has the government done in the past year to create skilled human resources to maintain and run a railway network?

Bureaucratic processes are in a shambles with neither upward nor downward accountability. And a massive increase in the number of political appointees continues to promote ad-hocism and short-term thinking. This has been further aggravated by a constitutional restructuring of the state—without the de-facto devolution of power to the prov­inces and local bodies. The state restructuring should have been followed by an informed push toward revamping the structure, size and work culture of the civil service. Ideally, this should have started with an honest organiza­tion and management survey by an independent third party—nei­ther connected to the politicians nor to the civil service.

The net result of all these are systematic weaknesses in the state’s delivery mechanism even when there is a strong govern­ment at the helm. To be fair, the government inherited much of the problem and should not be blamed for the accumulated mess. But the tragedy is that it is continuing down the same path of short-term thinking that the previous short-lived governments were driven by.

 Every year, the dry season brings with it forest fires, especially in Nepal’s lowlands. In 2016, a total of 5,630 wildfire incidents burned down 222,046 hectares of land and led to the death of 15 people and injured about 100. The past two years were relatively better due to greater rainfall. Sometimes forest fires occur natu­rally, for instance after lightning. But in Nepal, most of them are attribut­able to anthropogenic causes such as agricultural expansion, slash burn­ing, charcoal making, and traditional rituals. Forest fires in Nepal generally vary in extent, frequency and effect. This creates adverse impact on forest ecosystems, wildlife habitat, and local peoples’ livelihood.

Management of forest fires is challenging in Nepal because of the country’s diverse geographies, forest types and populations. Because of this, forest fire intensity and man­agement practices as well as sup­pression techniques are different in lowlands and in highlands. Man­agement of forest fires is especially problematic in highlands because of their difficult terrains.

There has been a long debate over the pros and cons of forest fires. Done under controlled conditions, they can be beneficial as the poten­tial fuel for big and unmanaged fires decreases. Fires can control insects and pests and remove non-native species which threaten native spe­cies. They add nutrients for trees and other vegetation by producing ash. Local herders in high mountains set fire to grasslands expecting new shoots that are highly nutritious for their livestock. But uncontrolled fires can lead to inconceivable calamities.

There are solid laws under the For­est Act (1993) on forest fires, which have provisions of fines of up to Rs 10,000 and/or imprisonment of up to a year. But very few cases have been filed. In addition, the gov­ernment has been implementing different activities in line with the Forest Fire Management Strategy (2010) and the Forest Sector Strategy (2015-2025). Various provisions such as research, institutional and tech­nological improvement, awareness, training, firefighting tools support are mentioned in these strategies, but few are actually being imple­mented. Provincial governments too have allocated funds for such activi­ties but, again, insufficiently.

Besides this, Nepal has various community-based forest manage­ment programs. Now local govern­ments have started collecting a 10 percent income tax from each com­munity forest. Despite this, most local governments have not incor­porated any forest management activity.

There are several techniques to minimize the risk of forest fires. Some developed countries have initiated real time forest heat and fuel index mapping as early warn­ing. In Nepal, the government, in close collaboration with the Inter­national Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD), started an SMS-based forest fire alert. But research shows that most stakeholders have little idea about this system.

Human activities are a major cause of forest fires. But at the same time, the efforts of local communities in fighting forest fires are equally admirable. To ensure meaningful participation of local communities in forest fire management, various motivational, technical and financial sources along with institutional and policy commitments are necessary.

The 2008 incident in Ramechhap district when 13 army officials were killed while trying to suppress a local fire was indicative of the high risks of fire management. It is imperative we have skilled human resources for such a sensitive job. Advanced firefighting training, sufficient tools, and insurance are important for those fighting deadly fires. Each of the three levels of government could take steps to mitigate damages from forest fires. With the new land use management plans, each govern­ment can identify forest fire risk areas under its jurisdiction.

Likewise, collecting data after fire incidents is vital for finding out their cause, extent and effect and to plan future activities to restore forest ecosystems. There isn’t one magic formula to control and manage for­est fires. Experiences from around the world show that only broadly collaborative and coordinated efforts are likely to work when it comes to managing as well as mitigating the damages from forest fires.

The author is a forest officer with the Ministry of Forests and Environment  

 The Indian military mission did not leave Nepal as easily as it had entered. During the 1962 Sino-Indian war, the Indian army occupied Kalapani without even offi­cially informing Nepal. The war had prompted India to adopt a hawk­ish defense policy. Although the establishment of Indian check-posts on our northern border did not go down well in Nepal, it could not get rid of them easily.

Or rather the Nepali rulers could not gather the courage to close them. Those who had been grate­ful for their establishment were no longer part of Nepal’s ruling circle. King Mahendra wanted the Indian army to leave, but he too had been unable to muster the requisite cour­age. Indira Gandhi had emerged as a powerful prime minister in India and she pretty much did what pleased her.

It would be 1969 before the then Prime Minister Kirti Nidhi Bista finally adopted the policy of remov­ing the Indian check-posts, and made a public statement to that effect in an interview with The Ris­ing Nepal.

Bista was close to both Mahen­dra and Birendra. He took the deci­sion without consulting with the Indians, who although unhappy with it, did not criticize or respond to it publicly. But India punished Nepal in an indirect manner. The 1969 Indian blockade was partly a response to the expulsion of its army from Nepal. Getting the Indian military mission to leave is con­sidered an important event of the Panchayat era.

I had had an extensive conversa­tion on politics and diplomacy with Bista on 18 August 2013. He told me he was able to convince King Mahen­dra that the political fallout of the decision to expel the Indian military mission could be resolved. “Getting rid of the Indian check-posts would enhance your glory. I can manage the Indian protests. In case it courts a lot of controversy and you face strong pressure, you can tell the Indians that I am to blame for the bad decision,” Bista recalled telling the monarch.

King Mahendra agreed. Later, Bista met Indian Prime Minister Gandhi, who asked him, “Why did you take the decision in such a hurry? We could have managed it through talks.” Bista told her that getting the Indian army to leave was necessary in order to win the hearts of the Nepali people, and that the decision was in the interest of both the countries.

As a result, Bista gained the image of being a ‘nationalist’ leader and was counted among those Nepali politicians India disliked. Attempts were also made to brand him ‘pro-Chinese’.

Besides its displeasure with the expelling of its military mission, there was otherwise no big reason for India to impose the blockade then. India resorts to blockading Nepal when it needs to apply strong pressure on Kathmandu or to get it to bow down. But because Nepal was not heavily dependent on India in 1969, the blockade fizzled out.

Before the 1950s, Nepal did not seek Indian assistance or con­sultation on its internal matters. Things changed when democracy dawned on Nepal on 18 February 1951, following the Delhi agree­ment. Gradually, the tradition of India mediating in Nepal’s domestic affairs—sometimes on Indian soil—was established.

Whenever Nepal took a big deci­sion without India’s involvement, the big neighbor tried to derail it or get us trapped in a crisis. India liked interfering in Nepal, either overtly or covertly. Nepali rulers, instead of solving the country’s problems, got accustomed to ‘understand­ing’ Indian sentiments. The Indian military mission stayed in Nepal for many years, even though that required issuing various threats.

The next column in the ‘Vault of history’ series will discuss the life and times of Matrika Prasad Koirala, the first post-Rana prime minister of Nepal.

 Thousands of Nepali students go to study abroad each year, in countries like the UK, Australia, the US, and others. These countries are known not just for their high living standards but also their perceived superiority in the sciences. Families sell their ancestral lands and homes in order to fund their children’s education because they believe what their children will learn abroad will be far superior to what they can learn in Nepal.

But is that necessarily true? In the past decade or two, the planet has warmed to unsustain­able levels due to the residues of Western scientific inventions, including fossil fuels and tox­ic emissions from incineration of plastics. Chemical fertilizers and insecticides have devastated large swathes of fertile agricul­tural land, leaving wastelands of monoculture that can be wiped out with a single insect attack. Antibiotics, a seemingly benign pharmacological invention, now runs off into rivers and water-bod­ies at such high levels that they are decimating aquatic life. They also kill the good bacteria in human guts, altering the microbiome and bringing about a host of unspec­ified diseases to the weakened human body.

All of these Western scientific marvels are working in concert to bring about a genocidal end to all life on the planet. A recent report by IPBES has stated that one million species of insects, animals and birds are at risk of going extinct.

In the North and South poles, which store thousands of cubits of water in the form of Arctic and Antarctic ice, temperatures are soaring to such extremes (32 degree centigrade was recorded in 2017) that the poles are hotter than some European countries in peak summer. As the perma­frost melts, the rising waters are bringing about coastal flooding, hurricanes and cyclones on a scale not recorded before. Envi­ronmentalists warn that thou­sands of coastal cities are in dan­ger of being inundated and made uninhabitable.

Despite all these warnings, we continue with our daily life, as if nothing is at stake. In Kathmandu, we get in our cars and motor­bikes, fire up the ignition and expel some more toxic pollutants from petrol and diesel in the air. Despite hazardous levels of PM2 particles in the air, we assume this is a minor inconvenience, or an unavoidable hazard we have to endure in our drive for Western-style modernity. To walk would be embarrassing and show poverty, although Nepalis have always walked everywhere since they settled on this mountainous land.

When I asked the young women who help me with my housework to carry cotton bags when going shopping, they unanimously refuse. It’s embarrassing to carry a reusable bag, they say. Single-use plastic is smart and fashionable. They don’t want to look dumpy carrying a cotton bag to market. Even when I explain how plastic is entering every nook and cran­ny of our waterways, and how it never degrades but only gets smaller and smaller into particles known as microplastics which enter our bloodstream, they still refuse. To them, I am a quaint and impractical woman living a strange life, who mops her floors with soapnuts and orange peel instead of using the smart new gadgets which exude a stream of high quality cleaning chemi­cals, like in the homes of the peo­ple who they’ve worked for in the past.

In the vegetable market, I get into daily battles with vendors who want to be kind and hand me my dirty vegetables in clean plastic, and I have to insist that potatoes or tomatoes will do just fine in my cotton bag, and I don’t need the plastic, thank you.

Herein lies the crux of the mat­ter: everything Western Civiliza­tion told us was “dirty” is in fact ecologically clean, whereas every­thing they’ve told us is clean is in fact highly toxic. Take cowdung, used for millennia to clean floors. It provides a sparkling clean floor (for those who haven’t seen a cowdung and red earth paint­ed floor, I’d highly recommend checking out how beautiful it can be). Yet Western science insists it is dirty. Take cleaning chemicals invented in the laboratories of Western science, which are mar­keted as purveyors of cleanliness. New research now says this hys­terical push toward a sterile envi­ronment has caused an epidemic of allergies in Western societies, with people dying if they even so much as come into contact with something as ordinary as peanut or milk.If something as simple as what is clean and what is dirty has been inverted, does it mean that other things have been too? What about right and wrong? What about good and bad?

We can’t ask these questions, though, because the unstat­ed assumption is that Western civilization can never be ques­tioned. To use a recent analo­gy—like the jailing of comedian Pranesh Gautam for his critique of a bad film, anybody daring to critique the “bad film” of West­ern Civilization will end up in the punitive jail of ostracization, with jobs, contracts, grants, net­works being closed off with a clang. Since Western societies control all the sources of financial currency, without which human life cannot sustain, the critique of this system will never come out. It’s a water-tight system of self-regulating approval and self-evident truth.

Why doesn’t Western science ask this question before it starts creating a new invention: Will this new invention cause harm to any form of life? If so, should we cease and desist? If it had started from this ethical basis, the even more toxic pharmacological products and toxic chemicals which threaten to crash all of life would never have come into existence. But science nowadays is fueled by the need to make profit, and these questions are merely silly rhetorical questions asked only by philosophers of the Eastern kind. But perhaps the time has come for people from the periphery to start asking these questions. Is the self-per­ceived truth of Western science and its superiority over all other epistemological systems simply a sham?