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When we think of a uni­versity, we imagine large infrastructures, numerous students, libraries, and research centers. But the prestigious Lumbini Buddhist University (LBU) was con­fined for a decade to a room in Kathmandu. Although the relevant law states that the central secretariat of the uni­versity would be in Lumbini, it was in Kathmandu until five years ago.

The tendency to appoint retired professors from the Tribhuvan University or other institutions restricted the growth of the LBU, just like it did with other universities, particularly those outside Kathmandu. The LBU made significant strides once local officials were appointed. After the appointment of Tilak Ram Acharya as the Registrar, uni­versity officials visited LBU for the first time. Because of their tendency to stay in Kathmandu, the university had long been unable to run classes. Professor Naresh Man Bajracharya, former Vice-Chancellor of LBU, had only spent only two months in a year in Lumbini.

The LBU, established in Jan­uary 2005 following a summit on Buddhism, is considered an educational institute with distinctive features. It cur­rently has about 1,000 stu­dents, and offers courses in Buddhist philosophy, art, reli­gion, culture, and archeology. It started with a PhD program, but has been offering a mas­ter’s degree for around half a decade. It has now also added a bachelor’s program and a year-long intermediate degree language training program. An affiliate college in Butwal offers bachelor’s degrees in Travel and Tourism and Law (BALLB). Seven colleges in Kathmandu are also affiliated to the LBU.

“Now that we have been building infrastructures and running classes in Lumbini, the university is gradually expanding its horizons,” says Registrar Acharya. But LBU is still short of infrastructures. Officials say lack of support from the government, which has provided only limited funds, has been an obstacle to building other Buddhism-re­lated infrastructures.

But the LBU has deployed its own resources to build hos­tels for students and quarters for officials and teachers. A research center (Rs 200 mil­lion) and a library (Rs 110 mil­lion) are also coming up.

Many universities teach Buddhist philosophy across the world. But for students of Buddhism, Lumbini holds a special place—which is why the LBU has the potential to be an education-tourism hub. But Registrar Acharya says more infrastructures are needed to realize the potential. As sev­eral archeological sites on the Buddhist circuit are yet to be studied, Acharya says the LBU will produce scholars able to do such research.

Devdaha in the district of Rupandehi is considered the home of Buddha’s mother. “We are in the process of acquiring land there and constructing infrastructures. Work will commence as soon as the council of ministers approves the acquisition,” says Acharya. The university also has plans to expand to Tilaurakot in Kapilvastu and Ramgram in Nawalparasi.

Most tourists to Lumbini pay a visit to the university, which has been drawing increasing attention since the construc­tion, at a cost of Rs 70 million, of a stupa on its premises. The stupa is special because it con­tains Buddha’s remains, which was transferred there with the help of Burmese monks.

 Is the Millennium Challenge Cooperation compact a part of the US Indo-Pacific Strategy? American officials say it certainly is. Our government says it definitely is not. One of them has to be wrong—and it is our government. The grant giver gets to decide how to classify its money. The taker then has the choice of either accepting or rejecting the offer. The Nepal government has adopted a strange position. It cannot say it will accept the MCC, despite it being a part of the IPS, as the electricity and road projects under it are vital for our development.

It is instead saying that the grant givers them­selves don’t know what they are talking about.It is also interesting how the MCC debate has been framed. Even the most ardent opponents of the MCC in the ruling party have no problem with the compact if the Americans clarify that it is not part of the IPS. What is wrong in this prin­cipled position? Isn’t it the Americans who have added to the confusion about the MCC by trying to retrospectively lump it under the IPS? The Nepal government says it will accept the MCC but not the IPS. But what if you can’t separate them?

Again, I am not qualified enough to work out the proj­ect’s economic benefits for Nepal. In fact, the cross-bor­der transmission lines the $500m grant will help build might be in Nepal’s inter­est. All I want is for our government to stop fooling us. The NCP leaders in the government must be under tremendous US pressure to ratify the compact. Those of them outside the government are under less pressure and can voice their concerns—as they rightly have.

The American ambassador says if Nepal rejects the grant, it will go to some other country, and Nepal will lose out. If so, why is the US so insistent that Nepal accept the grant? Why not give it to another needy country and teach Nepal a lesson? But, no, the Americans are putting all kinds of pressure on the government to accept it. This only adds to the suspicion that the MCC, just like the IPS, has an ulterior motive. Yes, there is no mention of any IPS stuff in the MCC documents. But what if the Americans argue tomorrow that the MCC was approved by the Nepali parliament after it was declared a part of the IPS, and hence Nepal ipso facto accepts the IPS?

Either our government is so naïve that it has started believ­ing in free lunches in international relations. Or it has been put under so much pressure it has become impossible to put off the MCC any longer. Whenever we get any assistance in cash or kind from abroad, be it from India, China, or the US, the first question to be asked is: Is it in our national interest? If the MCC is in our interest, why so blatantly lie to get it approved? If it is not, the near two-third Oli government, I am afraid, is a bit of a paper tiger unsuited to dealing with the new geopolitical challenges facing Nepal.

Six years after building a runway, an airplane carried out a test flight to the mountainous district of Manang on September 13. Summit Air, a private airline company, had conducted the test flight. Chief Minister of Gandaki Province, Prithvi Subba Gurung, and Provin­cial Minister for Industry, Tourism and Environment, Bikash Lamsal, both of whom were on the test flight, vowed regular flights would start on September 27.

“We looked at the sky all day long on September 27 awaiting an airplane, but none arrived,” says Chyungda Gurung from Humde in Manang. “We have been hear­ing for three months that there will be regular flights. Where are they?” she asks. The unfulfilled promise has left the locals like her bitterly disappointed.

Kanchha Ghale, chairper­son of Manang Ngisyang Rural Municipality, says this is not the first time the peo­ple of Manang have been duped. Earlier, too, they had been promised flights from Humde. Minister Lamsal had said regular flights, target­ing Domestic Tourism Year 2019 and Visit Nepal 2020, would soon be operated—tono avail.

Binod Gurung, President of Manang Tourism Manage­ment Committee, says tour­ists, including those without much time to spend here, have also been deprived of an opportunity to fly to Manang. Over 250 tourists visit Manang every day, most of them via Pokhara. “It would have been better if the authorities had said they could not do it,” adds Gurung.

Minister Lamsal claims efforts are still being made to start regular flights to Manang. “There were various reasons our efforts did not succeed. We are still discussing the plan,” he says. “We have held discussions with Summit Air and Nepal Airlines, the national flag carrier.”

In December 2013, the Civil Aviation Authority of Nepal had blacktopped the run­way at a cost of Rs 90 mil­lion. A 600-meter runway was extended to 900 meters. Following the blacktopping, several ministers and CAAN officials had flown to the Humde airport as part of an inspection visit. But the airport has remained closedsince 2013.

Two years after the runway was blacktopped, a Dornier aircraft of Tara Air conducted a test flight to Manang. But no subsequent flights have been seen. More recently, preparations for starting flights were made on Janu­ary 9 and July 5. But nothing came of them either. Before the runway was blacktopped, Nepal Airlines used to oper­ate regular flights to Manang, twice a week.

Flights to and from Humde started in July 1982. Back then, two regular flights used to be operated every week from Humde. Locals say that flights stopped when a road track to Manang opened.

A flight from Pokhara to Manang takes around 25 minutes. CAAN’s air traffic controller Surya Baha­dur Khatri says planes can­not fly to Manang in snowy or rainy weather.

DIPLOMATIC LICENSE
I may be wrong

When I broke the news about the impending arrival of Chinese President Xi Jinping a few months before his Kathmandu touchdown, the ‘revelation’ was mostly greeted with skepticism. Where were the preparations to welcome one of the world’s strongest leaders? How was it that only I knew? For me, it was a simple case of a trusted source in Beijing passing the information. But did I really ‘know’ Xi was coming? Of course not. There could have been legions of reasons why his trip would have been postponed or even cancelled—in which case, many would have greeted my prognosis with derision.

Then I wrote of how, if he could somehow excuse himself from Donald Trump’s impeachment inquiry, US Secretary of State Mike Pompeo could also come to Nepal. Of late the strategic salience of Nepal for the Americans has increased by leaps and bounds. Given how active the Chinese have been here, an acquaintance from foreign ministry recently quipped, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Trump himself makes the trip.” Then I said Narendra Modi could travel to Kath­mandu, hot on the heels of Xi, for predictable reasons. I could be wrong on both counts.

It’s hard to forecast how even your closest friend or family member will behave tomorrow. In international relations, we are talking about the behavior of entire states, if the concept of ‘state behavior’ makes sense at all. Francis Fukuyama famously predicted the ‘end of history’ and the global dom­ination of liberal democracies. Nearly three decades on, Fukuyama maintains he was not entirely wrong: it will just take a little longer for the total triumph of the liberal order to be apparent.

But in a recent Freakonomics podcast, he confessed to being wrong about something else: the Iraq war. Fukuyama had initially supported the 2003 invasion, but when no weap­ons of mass destruction turned up, and Fukuyama learned that the US had no exit plan, he withdrew his support. For admitting he was wrong, the ‘neo-conservative’ Fukuyama was lambasted by friends (who accused him of selling out to the left) and foes (who charged him with feigning repentance with blood on his hands) alike.

Again, it’s hard to predict or even make educated guesses about the future trajectory of a country, much less the world, as Fukuyama was trying with his ‘end of history’ thesis. With so many competing actors and interests involved, you won­der how anyone can ever get things right in diplomacy. Or if all those commentaries and essays and books on Interna­tional Relations are any worthy. Professor of political science and the foremost authority on forecasting, Philip Tetlock, famously found that in soft sciences like economics and political science, the prognostications of experts are as good as those of dart-throwing monkeys.

He advises humility and reliance on multiple, preferably contradictory, sources to improve the precision of your analysis. And, like Fukuyama, the readiness to admit you were wrong. Easier said in a world full of Facebook and Twitter silos