CK Lal, in a recent column, writes about the authoritarian aesthetics of the middle class. He revisits an old adage, “Gods do not speak, kings do not listen.” The irony today is that leaders are elected, yet many prefer to communicate through (un)social media rather than engage in direct conversation.
Balen, standing today not as the mayor of a city but as the Prime Minister of Nepal, would face a very different political environment in which the stakes are higher, scrutiny sharper, and public expectations far greater. National leadership is not just about taking decisions or delivering visible results. It requires engaging the public directly, answering difficult questions, and showing through both words and actions that power remains answerable.
It’s easy to understand why people are drawn to this kind of leadership. It comes from frustration with traditional politics, a demand for transparency, and a desire for more direct authority. But those ideals only matter when they are tested under real pressure. A real test of any Prime Minister is whether they remain open and accountable when criticism intensifies.
Accountability is not about rhetoric. It shows in practice. It means speaking to the press, taking criticism seriously, and explaining decisions, even unpopular ones. A democratic government cannot depend on silence or tightly controlled communication. Once in power, leaders must accept that their decisions will be questioned.
Nepal’s recent history shows a familiar pattern. Leaders come to office promising change, but over time they pull back from scrutiny. Press conferences become rare, interviews controlled, and criticism deflected. This growing distance between the state and the public has eroded trust. If this pattern continues at the national level, it will deepen an already fragile sense of democratic confidence.
Nepal’s problems don’t exist in isolation. They feed into each other. Economic instability, unemployment, corruption, federal tensions, and weak governance cannot be addressed in isolation. They require consistent public engagement. Policies must be explained, problems acknowledged, and mistakes addressed openly. When decisions are made behind closed doors, public trust begins to erode.
There are also concerns about institutional freedoms. The use of police force against student unions raises questions about academic autonomy and the shrinking space for dissent. Strict border enforcement without viable economic alternatives has increased hardship in vulnerable communities. References to military monitoring of “anarchic activities” suggest an expanding role for security institutions in a democratic setting. At the same time, limited consultation and reliance on ordinances have drawn criticism for weakening decision-making.
Avoiding the media might help control the narrative in the short term, but it weakens leadership over time. It creates suspicion, invites speculation, and leaves others to shape the narrative. A Prime Minister who does not speak openly risks losing the trust that sustains authority.
Facing the public is not performance. It is part of the job. It means answering questions without evasion, engaging criticism without defensiveness, and allowing journalists to probe decisions and reasoning. In a democracy, this is not a burden on leadership but a core responsibility. Strength is shown not by avoiding scrutiny, but by handling it.
Nepal’s constitutional framework relies on checks and balances, with the media playing a crucial role. Open engagement strengthens democratic culture. Avoidance weakens it. Accountability operates both at the level of individuals and institutions.
At the same time, leadership today comes with constant pressure. Every decision is examined, every statement politicized, and every mistake amplified. The instinct to withdraw and rely on controlled communication is understandable. But that instinct must be resisted. Leadership is not about comfort. It is about taking responsibility in full public view.
In the end, authority comes not from controlling information but from explaining it clearly. Clarity will not eliminate disagreement, but it helps people understand decisions. Where there is understanding, trust can survive even in disagreement. Without it, even sound policies can seem arbitrary.
This matters especially in Nepal’s still evolving democracy. Citizens are more informed, more vocal, and less willing to accept one-way communication. They expect dialogue, accessibility, and responsiveness. Leaders who recognize this shift strengthen democratic practice. Those who resist it risk becoming disconnected from the public.
Criticism should not be seen as a threat. It is part of how democracy works. Journalists are not automatically adversaries, and public frustration does not always signal opposition. Both reflect a system still finding its footing. Engaging with them strengthens legitimacy.
A Prime Minister who holds regular press briefings, answers unscripted questions, and explains policies clearly would stand out in Nepal’s political landscape. Such an approach would not eliminate criticism, but it would build trust in how decisions are made and communicated.
We’ve seen the alternative before: limited access, controlled messaging, and a growing gap between the state and the public. Over time, that gap turns into a perception of detachment and opacity. Once that perception takes hold, it is difficult to reverse.
This isn’t about expecting perfection. No leader is without mistakes. What matters is how those mistakes are handled. Acknowledging errors, correcting courses, and doing so openly are signs of credible leadership.
To govern at the highest level in Nepal is not just to exercise authority, but to sustain public confidence in it. That confidence cannot be built through silence or selective disclosure. It requires consistency, openness and a willingness to remain answerable.
A Prime Minister does not stand apart from the public. They stand before it. These questions of leadership are shaped by a broader political environment where visibility and immediacy often take priority over long-term reform. As Chandrakishor argues in his column, “D for Dopamine Government” politics is drifting toward immediacy and spectacle, raising a deeper question: when visibility outweighs substance, can governance still remain accountable?
