To save republic from bananas

The year 2082 ended with a rather tragic event unfolding on Friday, Chaitra 15 (March 28). Arson, looting and clashes with the police force marked the monarchist rally in Tinkune, leaving two dead.

The monarchists want to reinstate the long-gone monarchy—an idea that haunts some like a ghost and stirs nostalgia among others. But in essence, the idea of reinstating the crown today stands in defiance with the future—it is out of touch with times, disconnected with people’s aspirations, and lacks any statecraft to deliver meaningful governance or international standing. It offers no practical solutions to any complex challenges the country faces today.

Then there are social, political and economic costs to reverting and the question of succession—all of which are bound to set in motion another round of confusion and conflict. The idea of the crown goes against the imperative to be forward looking. 

Yet, those who want it back—want it back by hook or by crook—mostly under either the pretext or excuse of a dysfunctional republic.

Although minuscule yet deadly, the March 28 incident is a release of public frustration, penting up against the dysfunctional republic led and nurtured by the incompetent leadership of the Dahal-Deuba-Oli trio. The action itself is unjustified, but the premise is not without merit. This trio, by many accounts, have failed this nation profoundly.

In defence, republicans count only the system’s promises and achievements, basically free speech but a mouth needs more than freedom to speak and more than just rights on paper—in fact a platter of real opportunities, actual rule of law, effective governance and secured economic and social rights to live a dignified life.

Republicans also lack other broader contexts of public frustration and the failure of the system they believe to champion. It stems from an unresolved history of political violence, namely political movements—etched into public memory as unresolved chapters without any answers for victims and zero accountability for political perpetrators.

Eighteen years after the comprehensive peace agreement and almost two and a half decades after the war started, the truth and reconciliation process is still in limbo. The war has mainstreamed its key actors politically, but millions of Nepalis whose lives were upended are left without justice and closure.

Other political flashpoints that followed, like the Second Jana Aandolan (2006), the Lahan incident (2007), the Gaur massacre (2007), Madhes movements (2007, 2008 and 2015), and the Tikapur incident (2015) have turned similar.

Meanwhile, the country has encountered multiple high-profile political corruption scandals like PLA Cantonment, Omni, fake Bhutanese refugees, Baluwatar Land Grab, Bansbari Leather and Shoe Factory and Balmandir. All these scandals are not just about stealing public resources but occurred exploiting some of the gravest tragedies of our society. Yet they remain unresolved to claim rule of law in the country. They are instead left to fizzle out in time, without clarity, consequence or accountability.

Sixteen years since Gyanendra was officially dethroned, only for the public to see further erosion of institutions in exchange for personal gains for political leaders.

The rhetoric that any individual among the public can become the head of state is marred by the partyisation of the post. The president, symbol of the republican institution, has been reduced to a prize awarded to leaders who accommodate party interests well. Even after assuming office and renouncing party membership, presidents could not maintain the dignity of their role and are frequently embroiled in controversies for working on the whim of their parent party.

In 2023, President Ram Chandra Paudel pardoned Regal Dhakal, who was convicted of first-degree murder. Dhakal was once affiliated with the Nepali Congress, a key party in the then-ruling coalition. Before this, Bidya Devi Bhandari had held the citizenship bill that had been passed twice by the parliament. Now, signs are that she may return to active politics after assuming the presidency for almost eight years. Even the idea undermines the prominence and legacy of the President as the apex institution of the republic.

Other public institutions like the NRB, SEBON, NEPSE, CIAA and the NEA appear to be increasingly influenced by the political party-corporate nexus, raising concerns about their independence, merit-based functioning and commitment to the public good. The central bank is yet to get its new governor. The last time it was vacant, it remained unfilled for almost six months before Maha Prasad Adhikari’s appointment. These high-level positions have become factors behind shifts in the government coalition.

Another rhetoric that the republic would fairly redistribute resources and opportunities to its people has proven to be a sham. Nepotism among politicians remains widespread—Renu Dahal’s victory amid foul play in the 2017 local elections, where they compelled the Election Commission to bend, and the appointment of Ganga Dahal in Pushpa Kamal Dahal’s prime ministerial secretariat aren’t the only examples. 

In 2012, then Prime Minister Baburam Bhattarai pledged government aid of over USD 250,000 to a mountain expedition team led by Dahal’s son. Bhattarai—who recently founded a new socialist party—has since appointed his daughter as the party’s vice-chair. Similarly, President Paudel has appointed his daughter as his close aide, a position that should have been filled through a merit-based selection process. In addition to this pattern, the proportional representation system continues to be exploited to favour individuals close to power.

Over decades of party-based democracy, mainstream political parties have instead championed the idea of autocracy in their internal structures.

The list is never-ending. The new faces in politics neither show great signs.

The Rastriya Swatantra Party has lost their trajectory to provide an alternative. Party chief Rabi Lamichhane’s political base is grounded on a checkered past of populist journalism and financial scams. He is now running from jail to jail and court to court for fraud charges in cooperative deposit embezzlement, which victimised over 60,000 depositors and their families. Lamichhane has not given up the presidency. Instead, the party stands with him, who blabbered ‘Nilo Kranti’ (trans. Blue revolution) on the streets when their chief was arrested.

Similarly, Indira Rana Magar, the deputy speaker from the ‘alternative’ party, landed in a visa recommendation controversy, where five out-of-business individuals were in a bid to go to the US for a UN event. Ulterior motives or a blunder—it demanded resignation, but the party turned away, calling it a politically exploited matter.

Turns out, sycophancy and political compromises run just as freely and deeply in the veins of this new party.

Kathmandu Metropolitan City Mayor Balen Shah, whose political strategy often hinges on provocation, keeps calling out the trio’s incompetence, often using aggressive language on social media, enough to trigger minds for arson. His posts where he says he would light fire on Singha Durbar and bury leaders in Tukucha are still popular. But double standards unfolded when he wrote a post about the March 28 incident, saying what children would learn from the acts of arson.

In a true republic, the rule of law is its cornerstone, but grand old parties, alternative parties, and party-less representatives alike have all contributed to the erosion of the principle of justice.

A while ago, former Chief Justice Sushila Karki chose to make aggressive political remarks on Journalist Sudheer Sharma’s ‘Ani Aba’ YouTube show. In her rejection of the trio, though without naming them and admiration for new faces, she contradicted her professional line.

She applauded Balen’s “boldness” and said that his strong following could “drag [current leadership] to Tundikhel” in no time. She held a soft corner for Rabi, saying he was manipulated into the fraud charges by the old parties. But coming from the field of law and justice where she served for decades and rose to the highest position in justice delivery and upholding the rule of law, her views stood low challenging the very principles she served for.

It would be an extension of the cycle of impunity, incompetence and eroding principles if the recent March 28 incident goes unresolved yet again.

First, the state did not learn anything from the violent and deadly series of clashes in the past. There was one just a year ago.

In the EPS protests of December 2023, what began peacefully turned violent and deadly after the then-physical infrastructure and transport minister (Prakash Jwala) used the same route, ignoring the warning that his presence could fuel the tension. His official vehicle was vandalised and burnt by protestors, symbolising rage against the government, while police crackdown resulted in two Korean job aspirants succumbing to their injuries.

The government’s mishandling of the seemingly peaceful March 28 event turned protestors into violent mobs who vandalised public and private properties, including setting fire to a building where a journalist was burnt to death. A civilian was shot dead by the police, while another civilian has finally come out of danger after juggling between life and death.

On the evening of the incident, the Ministry of Home Affairs called out the method of the protest, saying, “this is not how political protests are done,” in a press brief. But the development of the story points the question back to the ministry — ‘is this how protests are handled?’

While the police earlier confirmed that 58 shells of bullets, two live pistol rounds, 746 rounds of tear gas—it is a huge number, 192 blank rounds, and 239 rounds of cartridges were fired, with 20 people sustaining bullet injuries, a new report and several unverified footage shows that the police not only used excessive force but could have also provoked the rally participants.

This demands investigation, and shouldn’t end as another chapter where no one is held responsible.

A mere ‘Police, My Friend’, a public relations slogan alone can bring no reputation to an institution with a repeated track record of power abuse. Their continued lack of accountability is a deep disrespect to those who truly serve the nation—standing at the frontlines during times of crisis and disaster despite limited resources. 

Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak must resign and allow for a judicial commission to investigate the role of the state and the police force in the incident. 

As far as Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli is concerned, for all his unseriousness and ‘trademark’ tongue-in-cheek statements when the pro-monarchy protests were announced, one can only hope he, along with the rest of the trio—whose sense of politics is replaced by the schadenfreude of breaking people’s trust and letting them suffer—is swept away in the next election. The man wants the entire nation to listen to him, but he cannot spare a moment to hear the public’s loud and growing discontent.

Ideally, the March 28 incident should be a stark reminder for politicians and parties to restructure themselves to adhere to public needs and the rule of law. But pragmatism says it is likely to linger in public conversation and media cycles for years to come, much like other episodes etched into the recent history of the nation’s young republic, unresolved and unredeemed, left suspended in ambiguity, and without shame. In truth, the greatest threat to the republic is the republicans themselves.