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The United States has offered Nepal $500 million through its the Millennium Challenge Corporation (MCC) for the construction of power transmission lines and strategic roads. The Nepali parliament must approve the agreement before implementation. A pre-condition to the agreement is a cross-border transmission line that will connect Indian and Nepali power markets.

The debate on the MCC compact has ignored the impact cross-border transmission lines will have on the growth of hydropower in Nepal. Such cross-border lines will undermine the long-term prospects for new hydro plants in Nepal and make us entirely reliant on power imports from India.   

An internal task force of the ruling Nepal Communist Party (NCP) reportedly found that the MCC’s support is part of the US’s Indo-Pacific Strategy and would undermine Nepal’s sovereignty. The taskforce’s findings are as much a broader indictment of all aid in Nepal as it is about the MCC itself.

Aid always comes with conditions and influences. Take procurement rules. When aid money is used, Nepal is often required to adopt procurement rules of the donor agency. Nepalis cannot challenge those rules: our courts will say that is outside their jurisdiction; the government will say, “what can we do, it is their rules!”

Procurement is just an example. There are many other rules and conditions that donors impose when disbursing their aid. But donors also have a legitimate right to safeguard the interests of their sponsors.  

Most aid invariably involves loss of sovereignty in some form. If we are not ready for a broader rethink of how we use aid, why single out the MCC? Rather, we should seek to utilize aid more effectively. Deploy it in ways that directly advance our development so that one day we can break free of the need for aid.

Where the MCC fails

The MCC compact requires Nepal to build a transmission line connecting Butwal in Nepal with Gorakhpur in India. This is intended to enable export of Nepal’s power to India. Such cross-border transmission lines connect the two power markets. It opens electricity trade for both countries. While Nepal can access India’s power markets, India can also access Nepal’s.

Unless Nepal sells its electricity dirt cheap—practically free—there is no way Nepal’s power can compete on price against India’s. No matter whether it is the wet or dry season, Nepali power will almost always be more expensive than that in India.

Recognizing that cheaper Indian power will be available to Nepal, investors will pull back from investing in large hydropower plants in Nepal. Small hydro plants may still be built, mostly for localized domestic consumption. But the contention that Nepal can attract large investments and generate thousands of megawatts to sell to India is based on faulty assumptions.

Interconnected power markets will increase India’s hold over Nepal’s energy sector. Investments in new hydro plants in Nepal will then require the explicit approval of Indian power market authorities and the implicit approval of its government.

There are smarter ways for Nepal to tap into India’s power market. Dedicated transmission lines that connect hydro plants directly to the Indian market, rather than cross-border transmission lines which connect Indian and Nepali power grids, is one way out. Dedicated transmission lines protect Nepali power markets against cheaper Indian power, thus allowing for domestic growth, while also providing opportunities for power exports to India.

Ten years hence

“The MCC project focuses on constructing lines that will bring Nepal’s power to the consumers who will pay Nepal good money for it. It is a simple fact of geography and economics that means India,” US Ambassador to Nepal Randy Berry wrote in an op-ed [Republica, 3 Oct 2019].

Fast forward ten years. Nepal’s hydro capacity is hovering around 2,500 MW, well below the national goal of 15,000 MW. Meanwhile, electricity imports from India meet 70-80 percent of Nepal’s power demand.

At that point, we could remind ourselves about what the ambassador had said: “the simple fact of geography and economics” will mean that India would pay “good money” for Nepali power exports. And we could ponder: “So, where are all our hydropower dollars?”

But then it will be too late. Let’s request the Government of Nepal to conduct a credible and independent evaluation of the impacts that cross border transmission lines will have on the growth of Nepal’s power sector.

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There has been outrage in Kathmandu over the jingoistic and belittling tone of Indian media following Nepal’s publication of a new political map of the country including Kalapani, Lipulekh, and Limpiyadhura. Indian TV channels are now openly saying that Nepal did so at Beijing’s behest and the country has thus become a ‘puppet of China’. 

Indian TV news channels are notorious for exaggerating and sensationalizing issues. In the case of Nepal-India relations, they also seem poorly informed. And this is not the first time something like this has happened. 

For one, they seem short on hard facts about border issues between India and Nepal. This is perhaps because in normal times they rarely give much importance to Nepal-India relations. But when something significant happens, they rush to run news stories, host television shows, and publish commentaries. 

Says Tara Nath Dahal, chief executive of Kathmandu-based media think tank Freedom Forum: “They often lack background information on what is happening between the two countries. When something big happens, they manipulate it as they see fit.”

The way it is being portrayed, many Indian media houses seem unaware that Kalapani and Susta are two disputed territories that Nepal has for long been trying to resolve with India. Most reports say Nepal damaged the bilateral relation by issuing a new political map. But they fail to mention that India too had issued a controversial map in November without consulting Nepal, and that the Indian defense minister had recently inaugurated a road passing through disputed territories. 

In recent years, the Indian media have been recalling their Kathmandu-based correspondents and closing down bureaus, indicating that Nepal no more falls under their radar in normal times. This has hampered the flow of information from Kathmandu to media operators in Delhi. 

“In the past, full-time correspondents and bureaus used to send authentic information from here, which helped Delhi understand Kathmandu better,” recalls Dahal. There are now very few journalists in New Delhi who exclusively cover comparably smaller countries like Nepal. Foreign correspondents are mostly occupied, and perhaps understandably, with big powers such as China and the United States.

Media expert and educator Kundan Aryal says Indian Hindi-language TV channels often run unconfirmed reports. Besides, the Indian society has no access to Nepali media products. Those interested may get information from a few of Nepal’s online English news portals. Yet they have almost no access to the vast Nepali language media. 

On the other hand, Indian online portals and television news channels are quite popular in Nepal. “If they cared about what the Nepali media is saying, they would have found a way to know. In that case, they could also better understand Nepal,” Dahal says. 

One problem with Indian media operators, according to Dahal, is that they often reflect Indian hegemonic attitude and don’t treat Nepal as a sovereign country.           

Meanwhile, Aryal reckons the content of Indian media is often doctored. “They run such content incessantly on TV, newspapers, and online portals. It has earned them an image of unreliability and jingoism,” he says.

Nepalis had a taste of how the Indian media worked when their TV crews arrived here in droves in the aftermath of 2015 earthquakes. According to Aryal, they started behaving like the public relations departments of the Indian Army and PM Modi right from the beginning. “They produced news as if Nepal had already collapsed and Modi, as the savior, had sent the Indian army to rescue the country.” 

An Indian TV reporter went so far as to direct the camera at somebody trapped inside the rubble and ask, “How are you feeling like that?” The visitors faced harsh criticism and public anger in Kathmandu. Nepali youths started a social media campaign with the hashtag #GoBackIndianMedia, which instantly trended. 

Indian media has earned infamy on other occasions also. “Indian TV channels have sensationalized issues during Indo-China border standoff of 2017, Indo-Pak tension about Kashmir of 2019, and during the current Nepal-India border dispute. They cook up conspiracy theories and baseless arguments,” says Bhanu Bhakta Acharya, a media researcher at Universality of Ottawa, Canada. Political talk shows run by Indian TVs undermine professional values of journalism such as accuracy, balance, credibility, decency, and fair play, he adds. 

“In principle, media talk shows should promote mutual understanding between or among the parties in discussion,” Acharya says. But Indian TV shows feature more sensational and angry exchanges. They create a toxic environment among debating parties and end any chance of reconciliation, according to Acharya. “The hosts of these Indian TV channels speak as if they are government spokespersons, they know everything, and there is no room for further discussion."

The judicial committees at local bodies that used to be bustling with cases of domestic violence don’t have any new case these days. Not that all domestic violence has stopped. The problem is that most of them are never reported due to the lockdown, municipal officials suspect. 

Deputy Chief of Kechana Kaval Rural Municipality Nimsari Rajvamshi says: “We don’t have any new complaint related to domestic violence. Perhaps people are unsure how to go to report it during the lockdown.” She adds that though the males can go out of the house under various pretexts, women can’t. “And we can’t even go from house to house asking what is happening inside,” Rajvamshi says.

The judicial committee of Mechinagar Municipality used to have about five daily cases of domestic violence, mostly related to foreign employment. There were more cases of domestic violence than neighborly disputes.  

Says Meena Upreti, deputy chief of the municipality, “Women used to come here with physical wounds. Some complained of not being given anything to eat for days.” Due to the lockdown, people don’t even go to the ward-level arbitration units, according to Upreti. They instead try to settle cases at home, and often neighbors get involved. “But neighbors often add fuel to the fire in cases of family quarrels, which makes women more vulnerable to violence,” she adds.

Deputy Chief of Bhadrapur Municipality, Chandramaya Shrestha, also thinks domestic violence has increased. “I am sure there are more incidents. But they can’t come to complain.” Sometimes victims call the judicial committee at the municipality. In such a case, they get help. “But as people can’t come to complain, they may even go into depression,” she adds. 

The municipality plans to conduct local arbitrations complying with safety measures such as social distancing. “We are preparing to hold some arbitrations involving one person from each side, the complainant and the defendant. We visit the victims’ houses along with the police and hold a local arbitration to settle the issue,” Shrestha adds. More than 200 complaints of domestic violence are pending at the municipality. 

In Gauradaha Municipality, Deputy Chief Gita Bhetwal reckons the type of violence has changed. “Earlier, women used to come to us with physical wounds. Nowadays, they are holed up in their houses. Many are suffering from depression.” A couple of complaints the municipality got over the phone after the lockdown started were settled through family-level arbitration with police support. 

Meanwhile, Deputy Chief of Jhapa District Coordination Committee Meena Parajuli too thinks domestic violence has increased with the lockdown. Food stock has nearly run out. “In low-income families, competition for food can be a reason for violence.” 

The Constitution of Nepal provides for a judicial committee at each municipality and rural municipality. Article 217 of the constitution states: “There shall be a three-member judicial committee to be coordinated by its vice-chairperson in the case of a rural municipality and by its deputy mayor in the case of a municipality, in order to settle disputes under their respective jurisdictions in accordance with the law.” 

Besides the judicial committee, victims can always lodge a complaint with the police. But this provision too has come to a naught after the imposition of the lockdown. At Area Police Office Damak, on average, five complaints relating to husband-wife violence used to be lodged daily before the lockdown. Now, the daily reported cases have plummeted to zero

The workshop of Nitesh Mehta on the East-West Highway (Mahendra Highway) in Inaruwa, Sunsari, used to be packed with motorcycles. On a normal day, he would have no time to sit back and sip tea, his favorite drink. But these days, the workshop wears a deserted look, just like the abutting highway. He has all the leisure in the world but, alas, no business.

The tea stall of Gunjan Chaudhary, about 500 meters from Mehta’s workshop, is almost as deserted. In the few hours he opens in the morning and evening, he serves hardly 10 percent of the regular customers who used to throng his shop.

Other small roadside businesses have similar stories for the obvious reason: the prolonged lockdown.

Province 1, where Inaruwa is located, is relatively better off in terms of road network, with three north-south highways—Mechi, Koshi, Sagarmatha—intersecting the cross-country Mahendra Highway at different places. The province has a diverse terrain, ranging from Kechana Kalan, Nepal’s lowest point (70 meters above sea level) to Mt. Everest, the highest point on the planet (8,848 meters). It has long been Nepal’s political, academic, industrial, and commercial hub.

Due to high public mobility, small businesses along the highways and inner roads have always thrived in the province. But the situation now is bleak. A reliable figure on their total business, however, is unavailable as these small shops are outside Nepal’s formal economy.

Kishor Pyakurel, who owns Ujjwal Dairy and Coffee House in Itahari, another major business center of the province on the East-West Highway, claims that his business had been booming because of ‘competitive prices and services’ on offer—before the lockdown wrecked it.

“We sell mohi [buttermilk], coffee, green tea, and fruit salad. But due to the lockdown, we haven’t been able to sell anything. The coffee machine gets damaged if it is not used for long,” laments Pyakurel.

Pyakurel’s customers are diverse—bankers, government employees, teachers, police personnel, NGO workers, students, locals, and sometimes travelers from nearby places. Many of them hail from Inaruwa, Jhumka, and Dharan. They have stopped coming after the lockdown. “I used to import coffee from India. Now even if the lockdown is lifted, it will be hard to get,” he adds.

Rajesh KC, who runs a readymade store in Nepaltar, Ilam, also has been tallying significant losses of late, and is worried about its sustenance. Travelers passing on the Mechi Highway to visit Pathivara and Panchthar, as well as people from nearby areas travelling for trade, constituted half of his regular customers. They are not coming anymore, neither are local students who frequently bought from him.

“My summer stock of raincoats, shoes, gumboots, bags, and umbrellas has gone to waste. By next year, they will be damaged,” KC says. He used to make around 5,000-6,000 rupees a day from the store, and nearly all that income has now been lost.

Bipin Acharya, owner of Family Sekuwa Corner at Padajungi, Jhapa, has a similar story. He had started his eatery with bank loans on a rented piece of land. He has to pay the rent and give salary to helpers even when there is no business, and he fears the banks will start pressing him to repay as soon as the lockdown ends. “I had hoped to make some profit this year. But everything is uncertain now.”

Acharya’s customers include drivers and helpers of buses and trucks. The business was thriving. “I had started getting orders for parties and events from government and private offices. I used to pay back bank loans in daily instalments of Rs 2,100. And I earned well to look after the family. Now, it’s all gone,” he rues.

As the situation remains uncertain, Pyakurel, the coffee shop owner, is shifting to mushroom farming as an alternative income source. But KC, the readymade-store owner, and Acharya, who runs the sekewa corner, have not been able to try something new.

“Starting a new business during the lockdown is tough here. And you have to start from scratch. I am rather hoping the lockdown ends soon,” says KC. Likewise, for Acharya, taking up another business is not an option. “I have expertise in sekuwa. I don't think I can do anything else immediately.”